by Robert Beers
Urbus slapped Adam on the back, nearly dislodging the bowl of stew from his hands. “Bless my beard. You make me think you may have some Dwarf in you. Labad chose well, by Bardoc, he did.”
He raised a goblet, and called out to the other Dwarves. “Drink their health, my Dwarves, they be worthy of the calling.”
The Dwarves joined in, and toasted the twins. Adam and Charity discovered that after the first few mouthfuls, the heat of the stew diminished, and it was actually quite flavorful. The bread was sweet with honey, and heavy with rye and molasses. It accented the spiciness of the stew perfectly.
Adam finished the last of his stew, and gave the bowl to the Dwarf who was cleaning up. He sipped some berry juice, and caught Urbus’ attention. “What did you mean by worthy of the calling?”
The background sounds of the camp stopped, as the other Dwarves ceased what they were doing to listen to Urbus’ answer. Adam feared he'd asked something wrong. He looked around to see if he and Charity were in trouble. A wave of relief flowed through him when all he saw were expectant faces. It seemed Dwarves loved stories even more than practical jokes.
Urbus cleared his throat. A sigh rippled through the Dwarves. “I was a young Dwarf when the call came. Labad, the Philosopher King, chose me to be the one to keep safe the legacy for those who would come. We Dwarves are a long-lived people. Not as long as Dragons, mind you.”
The others Dwarves grunted or muttered in agreement.
“But long-lived, nonetheless. So few of us live, now.” A shadow crossed his face. “The magik war killed so many, so many. Our mates bear few children these days, but the Dwarves remain faithful.”
The others muttered their assent.
“Labad's aide himself gave me the legacy with his own hands, and I honored the call.”
There was more muttering and grunting and nodding of heads.
“The Evil One sent his minions against me and my own as we bore the legacy back to Dwillkillion, but we prevailed. The mate who bore me four score children was taken by trolls attempting to steal the legacy. Many of my sons and daughters died in her defense,” He sighed. “...but we prevailed. The call has been honored, and now it has been passed on.” He leveled a rock-steady finger at the twins. “To you. You bear Labad's legacy, given to you by one of my own grandchildren, his courtesy, and,” he winked, “his taste for dwarfish cuisine.”
The Dwarves broke out in laughter again.
Adam held up a hand. “But, what is the call. What do we do with it?”
Urbus sat back and laid his forefinger alongside his nose. “Ah well, there lies the quandary. The call is what you make of it. Beyond the basics, the paths are too numerous to consider. I cannot carry your burden for you, young human, that is yours to do. Labad did give two legacies from one.” The Dwarves muttered in agreement. “It could be you both have a separate task to do.” He sighed heavily. “I understand the frustration. All I can say is, you will not have to find your destiny, it will find you. When you feel the need to do what feels right, do it.”
He sat there, silently regarding them. Charity felt a little uneasy under the scrutiny, like when Aunt would check to make sure she'd washed everywhere. “Do you mean like during the fight back at the Inn?”
That got the Dwarves attention. She heard the word fight bantered back and forth, and felt them move in close to hear the anticipated story. She looked around at the group, and swallowed. It was like being one of the storytellers that would come through the village now and then. “Well,” She began, “Adam and I were eating our dinner in Bustlebun's Inn when this huge fight started...” She told them as much as she could remember of that night from her viewpoint, finishing up with, “...and I didn't think about how to use the bow, I just knew. It was like I'd used it my whole life.” The Dwarves sighed in appreciation of a good tale. Urbus sat there, rubbing his chin through his beard, and nodding his head. He speared Adam with a glance, “Do you have a similar tale, lad?”
Adam told them his side of the fight story, including his instinctive use of the sword.
Urbus held out a hand. “Give me the sword for a moment.”
Adam looked at him, and nodded. “Yes, yes, of course. Here it is.” A collective gasp came from the Dwarves as Urbus held it up to the light of the cook fire. A fine tracery of heraldic figures worked into the metal of the blade wavered in the flickering light. Adam could hear murmurs of, “...Labad ... the sword itself ... so young to carry...”
Urbus held it to his eye, hilt first, gauging the blade. He gave it back to Adam. “I remember it well. Keep it in honor, young human, and it will keep you.”
He turned to Charity, and clasped his hands in his lap. “Soon to be a woman. I like your insight, young human female. Yes, the legacy is very much like your fight in the Inn. Your part of it, anyway. Labad's Bow, and the sword,” He nodded to Adam. “Are shaped to infuse their owner with all of the Philosopher King's ... the only word that describes what I want to say is in ancient Dwarfik. It is Shabasch. It means Spirit Power, literally, but it implies much more. The experiences contained within the wisdom of ages of use, of trial and error, completion of the task at hand, condensed and given to one worthy in a moment of time. That is what it means, and that is why you experienced what you did. The Spirit Shaping within the weapons transferred Labad's Shabasch to you, for the bow,” He pointed to Charity. “And for the sword.” He pointed to Adam.
He yawned. “The night is growing old, and so am I. Good journey, young humans. Labad chose well. In this Dwarf's opinion.”
Charity looked at Adam. She had a lot more questions for the old Dwarf, about the Dragons, for instance, but didn't want to offend him by being a pest. Adam looked back at her, and shrugged as if to say. What can I do?” She watched the Dwarves prepare their beds. They used no blanket or pillow, but simply laid themselves down into one of the trenches with their head resting on the rock at the stick end of the trench.
One of the Dwarves, Knurl, she thought, raised his head and said, “Sleep within our circle, you will be safe. Good journey.”
The other Dwarves chorused, “Good journey.”
The morning dawned with white puffs of cloud partly obscuring the sun. Adam woke to the smell of fresh baked biscuits and bacon. “Oh, that smells great. Thank you so...” The Dwarves were gone. Their sleeping trenches had been neatly filled in, and the ward sticks tossed into the brush. Charity lay curled up in her cloak, still sound asleep. The early risers in the bird kingdom were busy greeting the day, and a small creek added its silver song to that of the birds.
“Is that bacon I smell?” Charity raised her head, shielding her eyes from the sunbeam that played across where she lay.
“And biscuit,s too.” Adam handed her a biscuit with bacon sandwiched inside of it, along with a cup of hot tisane.
Charity looked around as she took the sandwich and the tisane. “Where are the Dwarves?”
“They're gone. They must have left some time before dawn, but they fixed us breakfast and more.” Adam pointed to the two sacks leaning against the log that Urbus had sat on with him and Charity.
The sacks contained more travel supplies in one, and the other held a pot and a tripod for camp cooking along with a flint, steel and tinder. “We don't have to have cold suppers when we're in the wild, at least.” Adam rummaged through the sacks while Charity munched another bacon sandwich.
“I wish there was some way to thank them.” Charity finished her second sandwich, and washed it down with more of the fragrant tisane. Adam retied the tops of the sacks. “I don't think they would want any. They were just helping us fulfill our part in the call.” He emphasized the last word.
“Damn.” Charity muttered the epithet under her breath.
“Pardon?” Adam looked up from gathering the last of the bacon onto a biscuit.
“Sorry. I wanted to ask Urbus some more questions about what he said last night. Other than that fight at the Inn, and what he said about that Shabasch thing, he really sai
d nothing.”
“I think if it doesn't have something directly to do with them, the Dwarves aren't interested in it.”
“Unless it's a joke.”
Adam swallowed a bite of bacon and biscuit and smiled. “True. I'd like to know more about this Labad, myself. Why us? That's another question. I think we were magiked here on purpose, and I think this Labad had more to do with it than this letter.” He patted his cloak where the parchments rested.
“Do you think what Urbus said about the bow and sword was true, then? That they magiked us, as well?” Charity stood and fingered her bow.
Adam rubbed biscuit crumbs off his hands. “Well, you saw what I did. I'd be dead now if it weren't true; sooner, where you and that bow are concerned. More evidence. That's all it is. More evidence.”
Charity stood there while Adam gathered his things. It had to be true, and that village they were trying to find would most likely not be the one they called home.
Adam slung the sacks the Dwarves left over his shoulder. “We may as well get going. Those song birds aren't going to answer any of our questions.”
The path curved to the Southwest and angled slightly downhill, moving towards a glen filled with small creeks and runnels. Patches of wetland appeared with cattails hosting Redwing Blackbirds that scolded the twins as they passed. The sounds of frogs took over the sounds of songbirds, and several splashes told on a pond dweller choosing discretion over valor.
The wetlands gave way to forest again as the path began to rise. A number of stone bridges spanned the creeks. Some held small sandstone plaques inset with the creek's name. Troll Creek, Helmson Creek and Mad Creek were a few of the names they saw. They spent two nights camping along the path. Adam practiced with the flint and steel, becoming a little better at starting a fire, though it still took a good long while for him to get a flame of any size going.
On the third morning since leaving the Dwarf camp, they came over a small wooded hill, and looked down on another creek spanned by a stone bridge. A young man stood on the bridge with a sack in his hand. He leaned over the railing, and dropped the sack into the water, then he turned toward them as they approached the bridge. “Well, well, well. What do we have here?” He looked Charity up and down, stopping to linger on the beginning swell of her breasts.
Adam stepped between the man and Charity. He smiled warmly in spite of the tightening in his gut. “We're trying to find a village at the edge of the forest. We were told this path would take us there. Do you live around here? Can you tell us how far we have to go?”
A sneer was his answer. The fellow placed a hand on Adam's chest, and pushed. Adam went sprawling onto his back. “I'm not interested in your questions, sprout. It's her I've a mind to give a try to.”
Charity screamed as he grabbed her about the waist, and forced his face against her. Adam surged to his feet, and jumped onto the bully's back. “Get away from her!”
The fellow released Charity, and flipped Adam over his shoulder. He laughed. “Sprout, you're no more trouble than that sack of kittens I just threw into the creek.” He wiped the back of his arm across his mouth, and advanced on Adam, who was on his hands and knees. “Once I finish with you, your sister will make a fine dessert.”
A roaring filled Adam's ears, and it seemed as if something other than him, was controlling his body. He spun over and drove his feet into the leering face as it bent over him and then Adam was smashing his fists into that face as he straddled its body. Punching again and again, wanting to see if he could make it completely flat. A voice was calling his name, and then hands were pulling him away from the enemy.
“Adam. Adam!” Charity pulled him away from the limp body of the bully. “You've beaten him. You can stop.”
Adam blinked his eyes, focusing on the face of his sister. Then he remembered the kittens the lout had mentioned and ran to the creek bank. He jumped into the creek, but had to come up for air a couple of times before finding the sack.
Charity took it from his outstretched hand as he staggered from the creek. Inside the sack they found eight sodden little bodies. They all appeared to be lifeless. Adam hoped the same held true for the cretin who dropped them into the water.
Charity was crying and gently shaking the kittens, trying to get them to wake up. Adam wiped the water away from his eyes, and sat down next to her. “It's too late, Charity. I didn't get there quick enough.” She continued to try.
Adam left her and walked over to where the bully lay. A bloody froth on his lips popped and fizzled as he breathed. He was considering making sure the fellow never woke up again when he heard Charity call out. “She's alive!”
One of the kittens had survived, a black female with the toes of her right front paw colored a milky white. Charity hugged the kitten to her breast, and cooed over it. Adam looked on, with tears running down his cheek, and a wide smile on his face. They left the bully where he lay.
The kitten took to Charity right away, treating her as if she were a mother figure. Charity reciprocated by carrying the little thing in a sling that she had contrived out of cloth she sliced away from a spare tunic. She crumbled cheese, and feed her charge pieces of it, which the kitten gobbled as quickly as they could be given.
Watching the two of them play together after settling down for the evening, Adam was struck again with the feeling of being pulled by destiny. Charity bonding with the kitten was supposed to happen. It was yet another piece of the puzzle.
The food Bustlebun and the Dwarves had given them was nearly gone by the seventh night on the path, and the number of springs and creeks less than before. They made sure that they kept the flasks that once held berry juice full of what water could be found, and they also kept a close eye out for any fruit or nut bearing tree that could add to their meager store of food.
Charity worried about the kitten. “What are we going to do? There's no dried meat or cheese left to feed her, and she's certainly not going to want any fruit or nuts.”
Adam reached out and rubbed the kitten's head. The little black female responded by pressing into his caress, and purring. Her front paw with the white toes stretched and contracted in pleasure. He looked at Charity. “You feel like hunting?”
Charity slapped her forehead. “Of course! With this magiked bow, I should be able to bring down anything I see.” She looked down at the kitten as it rode in its accustomed place in the sling. “Don't you worry, little one, dinner will be here soon.”
But dinner didn't come soon. A forest that had shown an abundance of game and other wildlife now seemed barren of anything except a few dragonflies and a wasp or two. Adam and Charity ranged further and further from the path, and still they found nothing in the way of game. Eventually it grew too dark to do anything else but bed down for the night.
Adam woke to the feel of something wet tickling the side of his face. He opened his eyes. “Bloody hell.” It was raining, one of those half-hearted rains that manage to get everything wet in spite of being unsure of the job.
He pulled his cloak tighter about himself, and wriggled over to where Charity and the kitten lay cocooned inside her cloak. He shook her by the shoulder gently. “Charity. Get up.”
She answered with an indefinable murmur followed with, “Go ‘way.”
He shook her again. “Come on, Charity. It's raining. We have to get under cover before we catch the chills.”
Charity poked her head out from under her cloak. “Wha...? Oh, it's raining. Adam, we have to get under cover. We could catch the chills.”
Adam bit back his reply, and waited while she gathered herself together. The kitten stuck her head out of the sling, and hissed at the rain. Adam agreed with her.
They trudged through the intermittent drizzle and rain, feeling totally miserable. The low clouds and mist increased the darkness of the forest, and caused them to trip and stub their toes several times. They attempted to shelter under the branches of trees a number of times, but the water dripping through the leaves was nearly as b
ad as being under no shelter at all.
They had reached the point of tears from frustration when Charity saw the light. “Adam. Look! Through the trees. No, over there to the left.”
“Where? Oh, I see it now. Let's go.”
Their spirits lifted, they picked up the pace, and soon found themselves before a cottage, but a cottage unlike any they'd seen in the village. The door had to be almost twice the height of a normal one. The thatched roof was near as tall as the steeple of the village church.
They made their way to the front door, being careful to mind the extra high steps leading to the porch. Adam knocked on the door, and stepped back. The knocking ring at the top of the door stood about three feet over Adam's head.
They waited, and when no one answered, he tried knocking again. After the second knock, a face filled the circular window in the top of the door. When it saw them, a smile lit up the broad face, and the door was pulled open.
A giantess filled the doorway. She had to be at least nine feet tall and half that wide. The twins had to crane their necks to see her face. She placed her hands on broad hips, and beamed down at the twins. “Why, it's a pair of sopping poppets at me doorway. Come in, come in, me poppets, and be warm and dry.”
Adam and Charity hesitated, and she threw back her head, and laughed. “Oh, come now, me dears. Big I may be, but I'll watch me step. You'll find food, bed an’ more besides, in here.” She bent down and winked at them out of a huge blue eye. “'Sides. It's better'n sleepin’ in the wet. Is that not so?”
Charity swallowed the lump in her throat. “Thank you.” The giantess reminded her of the miller's wife in their village back home, only more so, about four more so's. She found her words quite swept away by it all.
“Good, good.” The giantess gathered them into the cottage's light and warmth while pouring a flood of small talk into each and every second's breath.
She continued chattering at them nonstop while she helped them out of their wet clothes, and wrapped them in voluminous thick nightshirts that draped across the floor, and she continued the chatter while she placed two overwhelming platters of food before them.