The Wizard's Gambit

by Kylie Betzner

  “Shut it, Mongrel!” Littlehammer spat. “Th’ races daen’t belang together. An’ ye certainly daen’t belang wi’ us. Ye ne’er did. Noo gie ootta haur! Go oan. Gie!”

  She lunged toward him, dragging the elf behind her. Laerilas squalled like a helpless baby bird.

  That did it. Mongrel put away his bow and unsheathed his long sword.

  Littlehammer laughed. “Ur ye gonnae challenge me?”

  “No,” he said.

  “’En pit it awa’. A weapon isnae a play thing.”

  “Neither is a life,” he said and swung his sword right below Littlehammer’s hand, cutting Laerilas free of her grip. Only the strike fell lower than planned, giving Laerilas a close cut.

  The elf dropped to his knees, stunned. When the shock wore off, he ran his hands through the short uneven layers of hair Mongrel had left him. Finding the rest of his hair on the ground, he started to scream, louder and more pained than when Littlehammer had been pulling on it.

  This stopped the fight. In an instant, Gwyn and the others were at his side, eyes wide with disbelief and horror. No one cut an elf’s hair, not even the elf. One could tell their age by the length of their hair. According to Laerilas’ new length, he was less than two years old. Seven pairs of eyes fell upon Mongrel with intense hatred.

  Slowly, he backed away.

  “Come on, guys . . . I was only trying to—”

  Seven blades were drawn at once. There was no forgiveness in their eyes.

  Mongrel turned and fled.

  He tore through the brush, ignoring the branches that scratched his face and clawed at his hair. There were worse pains behind him. He did not stop until he was sure he’d lost them, and even then, he kept a low profile.

  His wolves were nowhere in sight. He thought to call to them but wanted to avoid giving off his position. There was nothing to do but lie low and wait.

  He could resume his search for the hidden item. But what would be the point? Finding the hidden item alone was not going to stop the fighting, of that he was sure. If only he knew what would.

  CHAPTER NINE

  “Those girls are talking about you,” flashed the pin. Against Margo’s dark robes, it looked like a firefly blinking on and off, yet it reminded her more of a fly buzzing in her ear. She only wished she could shoo it away, but it remained fastened to her robe. The only thing she could do was cover it with her hand as it tried to speak. “See, they’re doing it again—”

  “I don’t care,” Margo lowered her voice so only it could hear. No use. Eiko’s daughters continued to snicker.

  Margo slumped in her seat and let her hair cover her face. She sat in silence while Wizard White Beard narrated moment by moment every significant event that occurred within his gazing ball. He only did this because the others couldn’t see from where they sat. With so much space between them, they took up the entire length of the table. Margo thought it foolish, but she wouldn’t want them sitting next to her after so much killing had just happened. The sponsors of those slain competitors were outraged.

  Currently, it was King Lindolyn who raged the loudest. Margo could have sympathized for the fallen guardsmen, but she thought it silly he kept bringing up the one’s hair. Words like “maimed” and “defiled” flew off his tongue with such venom she almost thought something serious had occurred.

  She herself had not had a haircut since entering the university, but she couldn’t imagine she’d feel anything but relief to lose a few inches. Long hair was such an inconvenience and a literal pain in the neck.

  Still he went on with such fury she didn’t think Wizard White Beard would ever be able to calm him. His daughter hadn’t responded much better and had retired to her room, escorted there by her mother, the queen, after having fainted at the sight of so much hair loss.

  The only one who could compete with the elves noise-wise was Warhammer, whose grief echoed in the vast chamber. She would not tolerate so much moaning over hair loss when she’d lost a son. Margo feared she and the elf king would come to blows right there in the throne room.

  Meanwhile, the other leaders were begging for silence and a chance to see how their competitors were faring. Their pleas only added to the ruckus.

  Then there was the pin. Somehow, with all of this going on, it was worried about two girls whispering and looking her way. But who cared about them when Mongrel was in such peril? The pin did, apparently.

  “They’re making fun of you,” it continued.

  Margo peeked at them through her hair. They were pointing at her and laughing. She smirked. “They’re making fun of my pin, so technically they’re making fun of you.”

  “Are you just going to sit there and take it?” it asked her.

  “Shh.”

  “Why don’t you pull some of that magical mumbo-jumbo on them? Turn them into newts or whatever it is you wizards do.”

  “I’m not allowed,” Margo told it. “Besides, I don’t know how.”

  “Don’t be such a baby.”

  Eiko’s daughters stopped laughing.

  “What did you say?” They asked in unison.

  “I-I didn’t say anything.” Margo fled behind her hair.

  Eiko’s daughters exchanged knowing looks.

  “Coward,” said the one.

  “Too scared to repeat yourself,” finished the other.

  “No—”

  “Margo.” Wizard White Beard paused in his narration to correct his apprentice. “Behave yourself.”

  “But Wizard White Beard, I—”

  He shot her a warning glance.

  “Yes, Wizard White Beard.” She slumped even further down into her seat and pulled more hair in front of her face. She could not silence the pin’s protest, the sisters’ mocking laughter, or the uproar of the leaders. Finally, Margo had had enough.

  “Silence!” she demanded, rising from her chair and calling upon the will of magic to seal their mouths shut. “Silence, everyone!”

  An unnatural hush fell over the room as their mouths instantly and involuntarily sealed shut. They looked to Wizard White Beard for explanation.

  Margo shrunk under her mentor’s scrutiny. She could tell by the look on his face he wasn’t pleased, even if he was impressed.

  She gulped.

  “Undo the spell at once,” he told her, not with his mouth—because his lips, like everyone else’s, were sealed shut—but with his mind. Though the look on his face would have communicated the same message. It became even harsher when she failed to do as he’d asked.

  “I-I can’t.” She blushed, avoiding Eiko’s daughters, who were now mocking her with their eyes. At least they couldn’t snicker.

  With a quick wave of his hand, Wizard White Beard broke the invisible seal upon their lips. The leaders gasped and sighed in relief.

  “First rule of wizardry,” he told her, “never cast a spell you cannot break. If you’d read chapter one of The Complete Dullard’s Guide to Wizardry as you’d been instructed, you would’ve know that.”

  “Yes, Wizard White Beard,” she mumbled. She only wished she could recall the invisibility spell as Eiko’s daughters resumed their giggling.

  “Now, let’s move on,” he said, raising his hand against further argument. “I think someone wanted to see how the northern tribesmen were doing.” He treated Chulyin to a quick wink and waved his hand over the gazing ball. The static cleared and revealed a small group not far from where the dwarves and elves had fought. They were making slow progress since the leader of the group kept stopping to look for tracks—or to tie his boot laces. It was hard to tell with the image being so small and distorted.

  There were a dozen or more men in his group, including a little girl. Margo could not believe they were foolhardy enough to bring a child along. Was Chief Kavik really so confident in his abilities that he didn’t think harm could befall her? Margo rolled her eyes. Men were such bullheaded, shortsighted—wait, were those Mongrel’s wolves? She leaned forward and squinted at the gazing ball
. Sure enough, the one he had called Old Boy and the others whose names she couldn’t recall were joining Kavik’s ranks. Traitors, she thought. How could they betray Mongrel like that? She paused to consider if wolves could even swear fealty to a man. They were just animals after all. Still, it seemed a dirty deed switching sides like that. And here she had thought wolves only answered to one master. But these wolves had two: Mongrel and now this little northern girl, who, as far as Margo was concerned, had just as little business being out there as Mongrel did.

  Tikaani was frightened. Not that she’d let her brother know. When he was watching, she put on a brave face. When he asked her how she was faring, she told him she was bored and couldn’t wait for another fight. But when he wasn’t paying attention, she chewed her bottom lip and clutched her amulet until her knuckles turned white.

  She hadn’t meant to summon the wolves. Her only intent was to channel her spirit animal for strength and courage, just as Granny Chulyin had taught her. This was, in her opinion, a neglected practice among the other tribespeople who saw no other use in the amulets than luring animals for sport or game. They were spirit guides and soul companions, and in Tikaani’s case, her best friends. While the little boys had gone out in the wilderness with their new amulets to battle their spirit animals for sport, which angered Granny Chulyin, Tikaani had invited hers into her room to keep her company and stand guard beside her bed. Accusations of “child” and “weakling” from her older brother hadn’t stopped her from letting them in . . . only now they came in secret.

  But there was no hiding the pack of wolves that joined their group. When asked why she invited them over, she only shrugged and claimed it was an accident. Inwardly, she breathed easier just knowing they were there.

  Up ahead, her brother, Kavik, examined some tracks. He’d been following the same footprints all day. The lead wolf was helping him track, but Kavik, being as stubborn as he was, kept pushing it away. Kavik glowered at his sister over his shoulder.

  “You should not have summoned them,” he told her. “Spirit animals are not pets.”

  “They are not play things either,” she said, certain her brother was one of those boys who had fought his in the wilderness during his younger days. Considering his spirit animal was the wolverine, she imagined he saw many victories in those mini battles. The men of the village were ranked according to the strength of their spirit animal. It was safe to assume their positions in life were determined as soon as their coming-of-age ceremony when they received their amulet. A weak animal, like cousin Doy Doy’s fish, could mean a lifetime of humiliation and submission. Though she never understood why his was so easily dismissed when fish were so important to the tribe. Sure they couldn’t win a fight, but they were everyone’s favorite dish. Maybe Doy Doy should remind them all that, she thought.

  Kavik was frowning, a severe expression on his square face. He was not a forgiving man. Nor was he merciful. Everything he knew about leadership he’d learned from animals, large animals in particular. He’d learned that strength, brutality, and intimidation were prime traits for a leader to possess. Without those traits a leader couldn’t, well, lead, nor could he protect those he loved, though love and compassion were not necessary traits to being a good leader, he had said.

  She was sure he had no intentions of adding them now as he led his kin into dangerous territories against pointy-eared men who could down trees with the flick of a wrist, stout men atop armored beasts of burden, and men too sneaky to show their faces from behind body-sized masks. Just the thought caused her to shudder.

  “What did you find?” she asked him, running up behind him.

  “Tikaani, stay back.” He lifted his hand, stopping her in her tracks.

  “I came to help, Kavik,” she said, putting her hands on her hips. “If you didn’t want me to come along, you should’ve left me back at the village with the old women and children.”

  “Is that not what I suggested before we left?” Kavik grumbled. Indeed he had, but Tikaani wouldn’t have it. Now she wished she had stayed back in the village, but pride would not allow her to admit that. Instead, she locked eyes with her brother.

  “You don’t have to protect me,” she said, but inwardly she preferred that he did. He was big and strong and could crush a bear’s skull with one hand, and right now those were good traits to have in an older brother. She almost didn’t care if she got her way, if not for her pride.

  “You are my little sister. It’s my duty to protect you.” He dismissed her, returning his focus to the tracks. “Deniigi!” he called over his favorite cousin for a second opinion.

  “I’m twelve years old,” she reminded him as she did often since her coming-of-age ceremony. The amulet, which she wore so proudly, didn’t seem to be doing the job. All he ever said was that she should tuck it away or watch it get broken.

  His own was tucked safely under his jacket, which was too hot for this climate. Most of the group, including Tikaani, had already stripped down to their bottom layers of clothing, but Kavik was too stubborn to admit the heat was bothering him.

  “Kavik!” she stomped her foot.

  “Quiet,” he said, rising to his feet to peer though the foliage.

  That was another problem about the woods; it was too thick and crowded to navigate easily. Tikaani missed the open lands covered in snow. She doubted they’d encounter such familiar sites in these woods. So much unfamiliarity made her anxious. So did being ignored.

  She tapped her foot while her brother and cousin examined and reexamined the tracks. Their backs were to her, but she could hear their conversation clearly.

  “These are the tracks of one man, a barefoot man.” Kavik concluded. “Aside from the southern man, there was only one other competitor entered in this competition without footwear.”

  “The mongrel,” Deniigi agreed.

  “His name is Mequssuk,” Tikaani corrected them.

  Both men turned to acknowledge her. Finally.

  “His name doesn’t matter,” said Deniigi, casting her a mocking smile over his shoulder. “He is nothing but a stray dog.”

  “Then why does he have you all so worried?” she asked him, crossing her arms.

  “I am not worried,” Kavik told her. “Hunting him is good sport.”

  He and Deniigi shared a laugh.

  “How so?” Tikaani challenged him. “I took him for a weakling. A coward.”

  “Don’t be fooled,” Kavik said. “He is more dangerous than he lets on.”

  “No, you are the only one who is fooled. He is harmless. There are more dangerous things out here like elves and ogres. You should be hunting them, not—”

  “I am the chief, not you.” Kavik curled his lip like an angry wolf. “You are just a child, so keep quiet and do as you are told.”

  Tikaani pressed her lips together and nodded.

  Sensing her unease, the wolf returned to her side. She patted its head until it relaxed. Then its ears pricked, and it stared intently ahead. She knelt down beside it and wrapped her arms around its thick neck.

  “Kavik,” she whimpered at the sight of a dark figure coming their way.

  “Quiet, Tikaani.”

  “But Kavik—”

  “Quiet!”

  The wolf snarled. Such a brave creature to stand up to her brother.

  He spun around. “What is it, Tikaani?”

  She gulped. “Someone is coming.”

  Mongrel followed his wolves’ tracks, unbeknownst to the danger that lay ahead. Not that he didn’t suspect danger; after all, it was undoubtedly close behind him. But he never expected to be led to it. Of course, he hadn’t expected his affiliation with the dwarves or elves to lead him into danger either, but here he was fresh from a skirmish with blood on his hands and the beginnings of what he suspected was a stomach ulcer.

  He tried not to think about it. Instead, he focused on finding his wolves. Forget the hidden item. What good was a plastic ring when it didn’t have the power to bring back tho
se who had died or couldn’t magically make anyone get along? And why bother winning a competition that couldn't set things right? The more he thought about it, the more he realized he didn’t have the answers. The only thing he knew for certain was he couldn’t fix this problem on his own. At least if he could find his wolves, he wouldn’t be alone.

  Behind him, the snapping of branches, the crinkling of trodden leaves, and the soft thudding of many feet heading his way. He could tell by the cushioned footfalls and the swift speed of the runners, they were not his wolves.

  Mongrel heaved his axe over his shoulder and quickened his pace. He saw no point in running. Elves were fast runners and swift through heavy foliage. Light and nimble, they could swoop over and under branches with ease and finesse. Stumbling through the brush like a drunken moose, Mongrel didn’t stand a chance of outrunning them.

  Should he stand and face them? Maybe he could talk them down.

  A round of arrows in his direction told him to keep running.

  Now he really wished his wolves had not run off. He needed them now as the elves pursued him. But what would he have them do anyway? Attack them? No, he wouldn’t call for an attack, not when he was trying to avoid further conflict. So really it was better the wolves were not there.

  He’d no sooner had the thought when he stumbled upon Kavik’s men. Just great, he thought. There were angry elves behind him and armed northern men in front of him—worse yet, he had no idea how to prevent another fight. Then he spotted Old Boy standing protectively next to the young girl, Tikaani. If nothing else, at least he’d found his wolves.

  “Old Boy?” The red-haired man stared at her wolf. It growled as he reached his hand out to pat it. She stroked its head and offered the young man a victorious smile.

  “Don’t you know wolves have no use for human names?”

  “Never mind that,” he said, flustered. “You’ve all got to get out of here now.”