An unfriendly voice cut in, “Yes, and I’d think the clan chief, even our high king, might want to be to hear the answer to our most important question, don’t you agree?”
Lia spun around to see the clan sage behind them, his face twisted in malice.
“Schorl, just helping our fine friends understand a bit about the stones.” Laguz turned toward the clan sage and Lia shoved her crystal back into its pouch.
Schorl’s eyes moved from Wynn’s bright sword to the glowing shield, and then to the broken bench. “Been busy, I see. Perhaps you can tear yourselves away to meet with the chief?”
Lia’s stomach flipped in alarm. She hoped the chief didn’t hate humans as Schorl obviously did. Perhaps he was more like Gobann and Laguz, friendly and grudgeless.
“Schorl, sir, I know how you must feel,” she began. “Our ancestors were cruel for driving away the dwarf race, but some of us are different. Some of us still honor the workings of nature, of magic, and only wish for—”
Schorl let out a mirthless laugh, the braids of his beard jostling like snakes against his chin. “Foolish, foolish child. You know nothing of what I feel. How could you possibly, filthy human that you are?” He let out more haughty chuckles while he shook his head.
Wynn stepped forward with his blade in hand. “I don’t care who you are, clan sage or not, you’re nothing but a fat stump. Talk that way to my cousin again and I’ll split you in half like this bench.”
A flash of fear crossed Schorl’s face. His eyes held firm on the enchanted blade. One flick of it from Wynn, one moment’s intention, and the dwarf would be dead. Schorl screwed up his lips, struggling for words, but found none.
“Well now, looks like a simple misunderstanding, eh?” Laguz said. “We’re all here trying to help our own, and all have noble reasons. Don’t see why we can’t help each other peacefully. ’Sides, Wynn, you’ve never feasted at a dwarf’s supper. I say we all greet our chief and enjoy some grub. That all right with you, Schorl?”
The clan sage nodded, his face grown pallid.
Lia’s eyes flickered over Schorl. He displayed no wisdom, nor voice of reason for the greater good. The dwarf sage acted no different from the royal sages of Nemetona, and Lia feared his wrath against them would not assuage easily.
Three armored guards ambled forward then, heads down and grumbling until they spotted Wynn’s blade. They halted at once, nearly tripping over each other.
“Escort them to the dining hall,” Schorl uttered through his teeth.
The guards hesitated, and Laguz motioned for Wynn to sheath the sword. “Please, no need t’wield it; by my word they’ll not touch either of you.”
Lia and Wynn were led back into the tunnel. The two guards behind them kept a healthy distance. They wended through endless passages until Lia thought they might be heading into the very bowels of the earth. While her body trudged along, her mind spun with all that she’d learned. Her quartz talisman had revealed itself. And its revelations stunned her.
Rockberg’s crystals hold and keep the wall of fog. Like sentries at a castle’s gates, the stones were in charge of the misty barrier. Sentries! Of course. By the light of a sentry stone—another part of the elixir revealed.
She pulled her cloak tighter about her shoulders, wondering how anyone could live underground. She wiped at the dampness on her face. Then a sudden dread crept within her. The Luis tree wyrm had warned them, “The guardians are losing power. Darkness devours the veil.”
Lia shuddered at the memory of those ink black images, the horrid whispers, the laughter. Laguz was right to worry. The guardian stones were weakening, and giving way to the power of the shades.
The monotonous thumping of miners’ picks grew louder and Lia wondered how close they were to Duir’s Run. Destiny pushed them closer to the clan chief, and the urge to seek out the portal and flee gripped her insides.
She sucked in the damp air. Just a little longer, a little more time in these dark tunnels. The least we can do to repay Laguz’s help is to share supper with the chief and answer whatever questions we can.
“In here,” the lead guard said, waving them through a doorway tall enough for Wynn.
Lia entered and her eyes grew wide. An enormous cavern sprawled in front of her, fluttering with activity. A table of gigantic proportions sat in the center of the room, surrounded by at least thirty high-backed chairs. The head of the table boasted the largest chair—a throne cushioned in red velvet with arms carved into the shape of claws.
Lia smoothed her hand over the polished wood of the table. Da would appreciate the craftsmanship. Her chest tightened. Just a little longer, Da. Soon, you’ll be back in your woodshop creating another masterpiece.
She swallowed over the lump in her throat and lifted her eyes to the grand walls. Swords and battle-axes hung alongside tapestries embroidered in silk. Some of the tapestries depicted landscapes of snowy mountains, but the finest of them hung behind the chief’s throne. The same wingless dragon etched on the dwarfs’ armor embellished the heavy cloth.
Lia stepped closer to admire its detail. The dragon’s white scales shone in the torchlight, as did its blue eyes. It stood upon two enormous claws and a tail that stretched like a serpent behind it. Spines ran from snout to tail, rows of teeth lined its half-opened mouth, and a set of horns jutted skyward. Lia wondered if the Luis tree wyrm had any relation to the beast.
She recalled the only verse in the Grimoire that spoke of these creatures:
Wings or feet and colors of any,
The races of dragons are many;
Young or old they are all the same:
They all hoard treasure and guard it with flame.
She moved aside when a handful of dwarfs scurried to cover the table with platters. She’d never seen so much food all at once: roasted pheasant, fried trout, stewed venison, an entire boar covered with sliced apples, skewers of fired vegetables, sweetmeats, honey cakes, and pitchers of frothy ale to wash it down. Then her eye caught the sparkles. She peered at the dishes to find gemstones sprinkled like salt on all of them.
“Come, come, you will sit across from your kinsman. Guests sit near the head, but not directly at the chief’s side.” The hostess dwarf from ealier pushed Lia to a chair directly across the table from Wynn. The dwarf’s beard danced with pink and yellow stones as she moved to fill a mug and place it in front of Lia.
Lia peered at the ale, leery to drink it lest it contained more woozy brew.
“You’ve the honor of sitting next to the chief’s wife, Lady Othila,” the dwarf chirped at her, and then pointed at Wynn. “Lad, you’ll have Gobann on your right, since he brought you to us, and Laguz will sit to your left. Of course our clan sage and captain of the guard always sit directly on either side of the chief.”
Wynn eyed the dwarf as if she’d sprouted horns. Lia wished they didn’t have so much table between them, so they could talk without prying ears.
An entourage of dwarfs suddenly spilled into the room, filling the dining chairs with a furor. Every dwarf wore a beard ranging in various hues and all the women’s beards shone with gemstones. Lia winced at the rise of voices. She shifted in her seat as numerous faces turned toward her. Anger flashed across their eyes, and her gut twisted in warning.
Laguz will arrive soon, she told herself. Perhaps then, they’ll realize we aren’t all bad.
A dwarf with timeworn skin and thinning hair crept up to the chair on Lia’s left. He leaned his gnarled walking staff against the table and fixed his eyes on her. “Y’look like your kinswoman, hair like a drake’s fire, though she was much younger when we met. Name’s Haegl, and y’must be Lia, bearer of the quartz.”
“Haegl … oh yes! You’re the retired scout who met our grandma.” Lia glanced toward Wynn to get his attention, but Gobann was greeting him. The friendly dwarf patted him on the shoulder, though the gesture failed to ease Wynn’s iron posture.
Haegl eased his creaking body onto the chair and spoke to Lia in a low voi
ce, “Maze skipper, she was. I always wondered how she got through the fog’s labyrinth. When I asked her about it, she said her friends let her through. ‘What friends?’ I asked her, but she never answered. ’Tis a mystery perhaps y’can solve for me now, seeing as ye’ve followed in her footsteps.”
Lia’s stomach tightened. “Uh, well, we used her amber …” Her words trailed. She thought of the shades’ false friendship and grappled with how much of the truth she should reveal to Haegl before speaking further with Laguz.
“Ah, she showed me her resin stone,” he said, nodding. “Said it was all she had of her mother.”
Her mother? Lia swiveled her head around to meet Haegl’s deep-set eyes, banishing all other sounds from the room. “What else did she say?”
“Not what she said really, but more what she wore that confounded me.” He drank from his mug, coating his beard with froth. “Said that was all she had of her father—a fine mantle of the deepest blue. She had it on inside out, and when I asked her why, she screwed up her face and seemed to think hard about answering me. Then she tossed it off and put it right, and that’s when I saw it.”
“Saw what?” Lia pressed.
“The royal crest. A fine display of a long bow set with an arrow, entwined in ivy, and aimed toward the sky.”
“Her father’s mantle bore Nemetona’s crest?” Her voice carried across the table.
“Lee, what’s going on?” Wynn’s brow creased and all but Gobann and Haegl glared at her.
She started to reply, but clamped her mouth shut at the sight of Schorl and a dwarf with burly muscles tromping to their designated seats. Laguz hurried in, planting himself between Wynn and the scowling clan sage. The crystallographer looked as if he’d come out of a windstorm. His white hair stood on end and his spectacles hung askew. Lia tried to catch his attention, but he was too busy fidgeting with his chair to notice her.
The captain of the guard sat with a thunk to the left of the chief’s chair, leaving a single empty seat between himself and Lia. He gave her a single nod and she returned it with a nervous smile.
Just as Lia started to turn back to Haegl, the clan chief and his lady sauntered into the room. With a resounding grunt, the dwarfs bellowed a unified greeting for their ruler. Like a fiery mountain, the chief was rock-solid with red hair and a beard to match. Donned in a woolen robe the color of rubies, the chief paled everyone else in the room. He wore no crown, but instead thick golden chains wove around his neck and a huge emerald glimmered against his chest.
“My beautiful wife, Lady Othila,” he announced with a wink.
The dwarfs cheered as the yellow haired and bearded chief’s wife made her place between the captain and Lia. She took her seat and whispered to Lia, “You and I must speak alone after.”
Lia stilled. No greeting, no formalities, only a hushed request to speak in private. Her breath turned shallow. Her circumstances pressed against her: the dank caverns, the dwarfs’ anger, the insights about her quartz, Grandma’s mantle, and now the chief’s wife.
“Welcome, young guests. Not since your two elders have we seen your kind roaming our lands.” The chief’s booming voice echoed off the walls. The other dwarfs responded with nods and grunts. “Schorl tells me you harbor a bit of the ancient quartz, and Laguz says it responds to you. So tell me, Lia of the human lands, how did you come upon a piece from our unbreakable stones?”
Lia’s face burned under the chief’s eyes, his face a mix of merriment and supremacy. She rallied her courage. “With respect, I don’t know how the crystal broke free. I’ve never seen pieces cast off before.”
The room filled with whispers. She swallowed hard, her eyes darting between Wynn and the chief. “You see, my garden’s in the shape of a spiral with one of the quartz towers at its center. I thought the sun’s reflection off it might be good for the plants, those facets so brilliant in the light. My hound actually found the quartz piece. He brought it to me while I was harvesting sticklewort.”
The room went silent. Then the chief’s laughter roared across the table. His mouth gaped with cheer, but his eyes remained hard as granite.
“Well now, you make it sound like one of our sacred stones cast off a piece to some hairy mutt. Perhaps this beast of yours can tell us how he did it, eh?” Nervous laughter slipped from a few mouths and Lia noticed Schorl smirking at her. With a sinking feeling, Lia averted her eyes.
“More of this later, for now we feast.” The chief proceeded to stuff chunks of dripping meat into his mouth, each bite adorned with diamonds.
Lia’s stomach churned, though more from worry than the king’s diet. She picked at her plate to give the illusion of eating. Nerves gripped her body and her eyes fell on Wynn, her only comfort in the room. He matched her gaze with a tight jaw and lines etched in his forehead. She could hardly think, pinned on one side by the old scout whose words confused her and on the other side by Lady Othila eager for her ear. Schorl captured the chief’s attention. The clan sage was leaned over, whispering to his ruler.
“Excuse me, but I need to use the privy.” Lia rose from her chair. Wynn’s eyes followed her and she nodded in an effort to reassure him. She tried to avoid the looks of disdain shooting at her, but she couldn’t ignore the audible hiss, “Thief!” as she approached the door.
A guard promptly escorted Lia to a room at the end of a narrow hall. A torch burned within, its smoke curling like a snake up a ventilation shaft. In the far corner stretched a stone bench with a hole. Though the room was tiny and dank, she welcomed the solitude.
Wynn had been right from the start, she thought. Gobann meant well, and certainly Laguz, but there were many dwarfs within the chilly caves simmering in bitter memories. Her claim to a piece of their ancient quartz sparked fire on age-old tinder. If Haegl’s discoveries about Grandma were known, they’d believe she and Wynn had ties to Nemetona’s monarchy, adding to their scorn. Haegl’d been mistaken, of course. The design on Grandma’s mantle must’ve only resembled the true crest. Perhaps one of the old widows embroidered a fanciful emblem to please Grandma.
The low drone of hammers echoed through the thick stone. Lia supposed the majority of dwarfs were kind-hearted, tending to their crafts and family, uninterested in the workings of power. That seemed to be the way of it in most lands, a few power-mongers ruling over the populace.
Her leather pouch hung like a noose around her neck, the quartz weighing heavier by the minute. Yet the thought of losing it gripped her core. She grasped the pouch and the stone’s heat answered her touch, reminding her that it was her talisman. It was also a piece of home, of her garden, a reminder of Koun, and a powerful key to the old ways.
She tucked the pouch under her tunic, close to her heart, and returned to the dining room entrance only to be pushed back into the hall.
“M’Lady Othila wishes a word.” The guard grabbed Lia’s elbow and led her to an adjacent room.
Her pulse raced as the guard pushed her inside a chamber and closed the door. Lia blinked in the lavish room. A candelabrum hung from the ceiling, colored silks lined the walls, and a white fur adorned the floor. In the center, Othila sat on a plush bench sipping from a goblet. “Please sit; have some wine.”
Lia eased onto the opposite bench, ignoring the goblet of wine and platter of sweetmeats on the small table between them.
Othila peered at her for a moment, and then blurted, “I want to have a baby, and you shall help me.”
“Oh,” Lia stammered, “I, uh, don’t understand.”
“With the quartz, you can charm my womb.” An embittered smile crossed Othila’s face. “Dwarf women rarely bear younglings. We live hundreds of years, but only one in about fifty of our women ever bear offspring, and then never more than one. Perhaps it’s nature’s way of keeping us in balance. But if I don’t have the chief’s heir, he’ll be forced to take the next arranged wife. I’m his twelfth already. I’ll be reduced to answering to his new bride, no longer his mate, yet unable to marry again.”
/> Othila’s eyes welled up and sympathy replaced Lia’s fear. Arranged marriages, pressure to provide heirs, abandonment or worse if you didn’t birth sons, all typical injustices suffered by women of high titles. Lia would take peasantry and the freedom to choose her mate over all the pomp and finery in the world.
Kelven spilled into her thoughts and she warmed at the memory of his confession. He’d felt the same about her, had for years. Their moment of sweetness was over too fast, but soon, she hoped, they’d be together again.
Lia released the quartz from its pouch. “I shall try, though I can’t promise—”
“I know you can do it. Laguz says you are a wonder, power flowing through you akin to the highest sages. Rare are those who connect with such ease to the stones.” Tears glistened like dew on Othila’s face.
Lia flushed at such a comparison, unsure how to respond beyond a nod. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Devotion for her stone filled her. She sent her mind outward, just as Laguz had shown her, focusing her thoughts deep within the crystal.
She drew from her memory all the living creatures she had ever nurtured. She recalled tending to baby birds fallen from their nests, her countless honeybees, an injured fox, their horses, and of course her hound, Koun. Her love for all of them flowed within her, and she implored the quartz to help Othila.
The crystal’s heat grew, nearly scorching Lia’s palm, and she opened her eyes to the light expanding from it. Her heart raced. She was doing it, wielding the crystal all on her own. Her talisman was answering her call.
Holding onto to her connection, she rose from her bench and sat next to Othila. She placed her free palm down on Othila’s belly, feeling the woman twitch.
“Your hand,” Othila murmured, “so hot, and the light …”
After a few moments the flow of energy ebbed, the quartz grew cool, and Lia withdrew her hand and tucked the stone away. “That’s as much as I can do.”