The Wizard's Gambit

by Kylie Betzner

  “He’s not here to kill us. He saved us, remember?” Mongrel searched the faces of his group members. “He’s one of us now, so give him a chance.”

  “I don’t know about this.” Ajani shook her head. “Don’t you think it’s suspicious? Him turning on his group and being left alive. I’m thinking this could be a trap.”

  “There’s no trap,” Mongrel said. “Laerilas is our ally.”

  “Hi, pretty girl.” Grrargh reached across the campfire to poke their new companion. Laerilas glowered at him.

  “I’m not a girl,” he said. “Why does everyone think I am?”

  Ajani snorted. “Because you all look the same.”

  “So do ogres, but no one confuses Blargh for a girl.”

  “It’s Grrargh,” Mongrel corrected him.

  “Nuance,” said Laerilas hurriedly before he continued. “And what about dwarves? They all look the same: nasty, hairy, braided, stinky . . .” He narrowed his eyes at Littlehammer. A spark of recognition lit up his silver eyes. “I know your face.”

  “Which disproves your point,” Mongrel cut in. “If they all looked the same—”

  “Not now, Mongrel.” Laerilas stood and confronted Littlehammer. “You were the one who tried to kill me that day Mongrel cut my hair.” His eyes filled with hate. They reminded her of hot silver. “You horrid creature. If I had known you were a part of this group, I would have hunted you down sooner.”

  That cocky little—Littlehammer drew herself to her full height and challenged him. “Weel, haur Ah am. Noo’s yer chance if ye want revenge fer yer . . . er . . . whatever it was.”

  “Hair.”

  “Hair.” She stared at him, mouth agape. “Ye cost me a brother, an’ ye want tae hassle me ower hair?”

  “My hair.”

  “Hair grows back, but nae manner ay magic can brin’ mah brother back!”

  She lunged for him, but Mongrel caught her by the shoulders and slowed her down. Laerilas reached for his blades, but Ajani shoved him back down with one hand.

  “Grrargh,” Mongrel called to the ogre. “A little help.”

  The ogre nodded and lifted Littlehammer off the ground with one hand. He held her while she kicked and screamed in the air.

  “Pit me doon, ye big stupid ogre!” She swung her hammer at him, only to miss. “Ah won’t be manhandled by th’ likes ay ye. Mongrel, ye hae heem pit me doon, ye hear!”

  “Only if you promise to behave yourself. No arguing. No fighting. The same goes for you, Laeri.” He gave the elf a warning glance, but not as harsh as the one he’d given Littlehammer. Blatant favoritism, she scoffed, and here she’d thought she and Mongrel were so close.

  With Mongrel’s consent, Grrargh set her down. She stalked away to the edge of the campsite to nurse her pride in peace.

  “You know what this group would benefit from?” Mongrel asked.

  “A timeout chair.” Ajani smirked.

  “That’s a great idea, but no,” Mongrel said. “I’m thinking it’s time to do some trust exercises.”

  “What?” they all asked in unison.

  “See, we’re already off to a good start.” Mongrel smiled. “Come on, everyone. Gather around the fire. Come on. Closer. Closer. That’s right, Tikaani, just have a seat by Grrargh there.” The girl quivered with fright. Mongrel didn’t seem to notice. “You, too, Littlehammer. Join the group. Why don’t you have a seat between Grrargh and Laerilas? Seems you could afford to know both of them a little better.”

  “Hoo abit Ah stay reit haur.”

  “Come here and have a seat by me,” he said, patting a blank spot of earth.

  “Laerilas, Grrargh, if you two could scoot in.”

  Begrudgingly, the elf slid over a few inches. Littlehammer smiled to see him so uncomfortable next to the smelly ogre.

  “Okay, let’s start with something simple,” Mongrel began. “I want everyone to introduce themselves and share one secret you’ve never told anyone before. I’ll start. My name’s Mongrel, and I’m embarrassed to say I can no longer hold my liquor. See, not so hard. Littlehammer, why don’t you go next?”

  “Whit dae ye mean ye can’t hauld yer liquor. Ye waur bottle-fed dwarvish ale.” She shook her head. “Th’ elves made ye weak.”

  Laerilas scoffed. “Well, you made him stupid.”

  “Wait your turn,” Mongrel told the elf and then turned back to Littlehammer. “Go on, you’re next.”

  “Ach, aw reit,” she muttered. “Th’ name’s Lil’ammer, efter mah weapon ay choice. Ah’m th’ only daughter ay three children born tae Queen Warhammer. Mah father—”

  “That’s enough,” Mongrel interrupted her. “What’s your secret?”

  “Ah daen’t hae one Ah caur tae shaur.”

  “Come on, Littlehammer.”

  “An’ air mah weaknesses tae these tall folk? Ah hink nae.” She crossed her arms and turned away.

  “We’ll come back to you. Ajani.”

  “I don’t know,” she said. “The dwarf brings up a good point. I’m not sure I trust the others with my secrets yet.” She eyed the elf suspiciously. More and more Littlehammer thought she liked Ajani, but then again she had no quip with her kind. Ajani grimaced. “I’m not so sure I trust everyone with weapons.”

  Never mind. She was a bad as the rest of them.

  “You’re going to have to,” Mongrel told her.

  “Then I pass.”

  “Tikaani. How about you share with us one of your fears? I know you’ve got several.”

  “Thanks, Mequssuk.” The girl grumbled and shrank into a tiny ball.

  “Grrargh?”

  “Huh?” He’d been watching the birds again.

  “Never mind.”

  Gwyndor led his men to the river. There they took their rest while he and Aerin tended to their wounds, a challenging task without their talented healer. A final healing would have been well within his range of demands. So much for hindsight. For now, he did his best to clean the wound and bind it himself without the use of magic. More interested in weapons and warfare, Gwyn never had shown much interest in healing. Now, as he clumsily unbuttoned his shirt to access the damage, he wished he had. With the help of two men, he removed the arrow, but the wound bled mightily.

  “How could you leave him alive?” Aerin limped over to him. The arrow had been removed, but the wound had been hurriedly bandaged.

  “He is banished from the kingdom. Is that not enough?” Gwyn asked her. “I cannot kill him. He is our kind. To do so would go against my idiom.”

  Aerin paled for a moment then continued with defiance, “He’s a traitor. He killed two of our own.”

  “I’m leader of the king’s guard, not you.” He stood so that their noses were nearly touching. “The decisions I make are just and final. Do you have a problem with my leadership?” He stared into her eyes, daring her to defy him again.

  Her gaze flittered down for a moment, long enough to see the blood running down his chest. She raised her brow. “You’re bleeding.”

  “Wounds tend to do that.”

  “Let me assist you,” she said, placing her hand atop the wound, but he didn’t feel her healing powers going into it. Instead, he felt himself growing weaker by the second. At first he chalked it up to blood loss, but the rapid speed at which he was losing energy told him something else was draining him. He sensed magic, dark magic.

  He grabbed her wrist but lacked the strength to pull her hand away. All the while, she continued to absorb his life force. Slowly, she eased him to a seated position and then laid him on his back.

  “Been practicing forbidden magic on your downtime, have you?” He smiled weakly. “Whatever inspired you to do such a thing?”

  “You never should have demoted me.” Her voice sounded as though it were far away. Her face blurred in his vision, but he could see the color return to her cheeks as his energy fed her. “It takes more than birthright to be a good leader,” she told him. “You’re a skilled fighter with notable pedigree, but y
ou lack one necessary trait.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Ambition.”

  “Maybe so,” he said between labored breaths. “But you lack something far more important.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Honor.” With that, he breathed his last and slipped into darkness.

  Aerin watched the light fade from his eyes and then rose to confront the remaining members of the king’s guard. The trio exchanged nervous glances but fell into order. This was not the first time they’d experienced a hostile overthrow, and it would not be the last.

  She took in her small group and sighed. “When we get back to the city, we need to hold auditions for new members. But first, we’re going after the traitor and his beloved pet.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Well-known fact about dwarves: they don’t swim—this, Mongrel already knew. They don’t fly either. Mongrel discovered this while watching Littlehammer fall backwards out of a tree. She hit the ground with a hard thud, but her armor protected her from any real physical injury. Still, she was hotter than heated metal when she staggered to her feet and whirled on the ogre.

  “Ye didn’t catch me, ye idiot! Ah ooght tae . . . ur ye listenin’ tae me?”

  Up in a nearby tree, two robins took flight. Grrargh watched them disappear into the sky and then turned to the one who had scared them off. He frowned. “I was watching the birds.”

  “Ye waur supposed tae be catchin’ me!”

  “I like the birds.”

  “Weel, Ah like baith mah feit oan solid grund.” Now she spun on Mongrel. “Ah tauld ye thes was a bad idea, an’ haur ye convinced me—a dwarf—tae gie up in a tree. Nae again, ye hear me?”

  “You’re right, Littlehammer. We should start our trust falls closer to the ground.” He hoped his compromise would help. “Come here, Laeri.”

  “Why?”

  “Just come here.”

  Sighing, Laerilas came to stand beside Mongrel.

  “All right, so you stand behind Littlehammer and hold your arms out . . . lower . . . lower . . . bend over, maybe. There. And, Littlehammer, feel free to fall back into his arms whenever you’re ready.”

  Stubborn as always, Littlehammer crossed her arms and stood rigid. “Thaur’s nae way Ah’m trustin’ Longbow haur tae catch me.”

  “It’s all right. He’s low enough to catch you,” Mongrel assured her. Sure enough, the elf was squatting near the ground. His bent legs trembled with the effort of holding such an awkward position.

  “Hurry up, dwarf,” he said between clenched teeth.

  Littlehammer shook her head. “It’s nae th’ heecht Ah daen’t troost.”

  “I need you to trust me—no—trust Laerilas not to let you fall.”

  “Weel, Ah daen’t.”

  “Which is exactly why we’re doing this exercise—so you’ll develop trust. Now fall back. Go on. Put your safety in Laerilas’ hands.”

  Littlehammer stood firm.

  “Don’t make me push you.”

  She looked him in the eye, daring him to.

  “You asked for it.”

  He gave her a shove. Littlehammer fell back, not into the elf’s arms, but onto the ground. Instead of catching her, Laerilas straightened himself and folded his arms across his chest. He towered over the dwarf with smug satisfaction.

  Mongrel shot him a stern look before offering Littlehammer his hand. She slapped it away and pushed herself off the ground.

  “Rotten elf,” she cursed under her breath. “Can’t troost his kin’ as far as ye can throw them.”

  “That’s a great idea,” said Mongrel, desperate to avoid another fight. “Grrargh, pick up that rock.” He did, and Mongrel turned to Tikaani next. “Stay where you are.” To both of them, he said, “Here’s how this is going to work. Grrargh has two decisions: throw the rock at Tikaani or put it down. Tikaani will stand in place, trusting that Grrargh won’t throw the rock.”

  “I don’t know about this,” Ajani spoke up from her place by the campfire.

  “It’ll be fine,” said Mongrel, forcing a smile before turning back to the ogre. “Now, Grrargh, I’ll give you to the count of three. Ready?”

  “I’m not!” Tikaani cried.

  “You’ll be fine. One . . .”

  Grrargh hefted the rock.

  “Two . . .”

  Grrargh smelled the rock.

  “Three . . .”

  Tikaani jumped for cover as Grrargh stuck the rock into his mouth and chewed.

  Mongrel’s cheeks burned hot as Littlehammer broke into laughter.

  “Lit me hae a go,” said the dwarf, holding out her hand.

  Begrudgingly, Grrargh handed her the rock.

  “Ewww.” Littlehammer wiped it off on her leather skirt before giving it a toss at Laerilas. “Troost toss!”

  Laerilas leaned back just a hair’s width from being struck in the face. He turned on Littlehammer with anger in his eyes. Before Mongrel could reach him, he’d taken out his bow and fired three shots at the dwarf. She deflected them with her metal wrist guards before picking up another rock and chucking it at his head. Laerilas ducked, and the rock sailed on, landing in a nearby bush.

  “Hauld still!” Littlehammer picked up another, hefting it a few times before throwing it at him. Laerilas stepped aside as the rock whizzed past. “Daen’t ye troost me?” She laughed as she threw another.

  “I trust you as much as you trust me.” He readied his next shot.

  “Stop it!” Mongrel dove between them just before they let loose. “The point of the exercise is to build trust, not test it. “Let’s try something else. I know—” He hurred to a nearby tree, cut down a vine, and tossed one end to Ajani. “Here. Tie this around your waist.”

  “What for?”

  “You’ll see.”

  Frowning, she made a slipknot on her end and looped it around her waist. “We’re not doing more trust falls, are we?”

  “No, this activity is called ‘leading the blind,’” he said.

  Littlehammer laughed. “Sae we’re gonnae leid her aff a cliff? Guid thinkin’, Mongrel.”

  “Just listen,” Mongrel said and turned back to Ajani. “I need you to close your eyes.”

  “Why?”

  “Just close them,” he said. “Keep them closed and let me lead you.” He picked up the other end of the vine and gave it a gentle tug. Ajani didn’t budge.

  “How does this improve trust?”

  “By keeping your eyes closed, you are trusting me to lead you without injury. Trust is broken if you open your eyes.”

  “I’m not sure I trust you.”

  “Come on, Ajani.” He gave the vine another tug, but she stood firm.

  “No,” she said, crossing her arms. Her feet remained planted.

  “Tell you what. Let’s forget the rope,” he said, releasing the rope. Ajani slid out of the noose and waited for Mongrel’s next suggestion. “You’ll need to keep your eyes closed for this one.”

  “Why?”

  Mongrel felt the anger rising within him. He fought it down. “This is another trust exercise. While your eyes are closed, I’m going to help you get safely from point A to point B while avoiding trees, bushes, falls, etc. Let’s begin.”

  “I don’t know about this,” said Ajani, shaking her head; but at last, she did close her eyes.

  “All right, start by turning left and taking three steps in that direction,” he said.

  She did, cautiously.

  “Good,” Mongrel said and, after some thought, continued. “Now turn right and take one big step.”

  She turned, paused, and then took a step.

  “Okay, take two more little steps. That’s it. Move your foot. Just slide it forward. Now the other. Good. Okay, two more steps. You got it. Now slide to the right.”

  She hesitated.

  “Trust me, Ajani. I’m not going to run you into anything,” he said. “Now continue straight for six steps.”

  She did so, slowly. />
  “Good.” Mongrel then noted a puddle in her path. “Now, I need for you to jump forward about one and a half feet.”

  There, she stopped.

  “Go on, jump,” Mongrel urged her.

  Littlehammer was hugging her sides with laugher. “Daen’t listen tae heem. Thaur’s a cliff!”

  “Quiet, Littlehammer.” Mongrel glared at her over his shoulder and then turned back to Ajani. “I would never steer you wrong. Trust me.”

  Ajani opened her eyes. She looked down at the puddle and frowned.

  “You opened your eyes. You broke the trust.”

  She stared him hard in the eyes. “There is no trust.”

  Mongrel swallowed down his hurt, anger, and disappointment, as well as a few choice words. That statement pretty much summarized the problem with his group. But if he couldn’t teach them to trust one another, how would they ever make it through the end of the competition?

  Night fell upon the forest, cold and dark. Margo shivered in her thin cloak, not from the chill, but from fear. She pulled up her hood to hide her identity, although she doubted it mattered. Anyone caught wandering these woods was fair game. She half-expected an arrow or a spear to fly out of the darkness and into her body at any second. Every snapped twig, every crackle of leaves alerted her to all of the potential dangers that could be lurking in the shadows. Whimpering, she forced herself to keep walking.

  Crack.

  Margo spun around.

  “What was that?” the pin flashed.

  Snap.

  Quickly, she covered it with her hand, but the light seeped between her fingers.

  “Is someone coming?” it asked, sounding oddly concerned for an inanimate object

  “Quiet,” she said, and it dimmed.

  Crunch.

  Margo searched for a place to hide, a difficult task in the dark.

  “Look there,” piped the pin. “To your left. Hurry!”

  Margo spotted a fallen tree. She dove behind it and balled herself up tight.

  Out of the shadows came a deer, and not even a male deer with great antlers, but a doe. Margo sighed and crawled out of hiding.