The Story of Sorrel

by Joseph R. Lallo

  “That’s what we’re here about!” Reyna said. “We need to find a way to deal with him.”

  “Boviss is power! Boviss is might given form! He cannot be dealt with. We can only hope that we can find a way to quell his rage.”

  Wren growled. “If you won’t come out, we are coming in.”

  “You cannot! This is our mightiest stronghold. If anything can protect us from Boviss’s rage, for even a day, it is this place. You will never—”

  Wren didn’t wait for him to finish. With a practiced motion, he hefted the pick from his shoulder. A single swing of the enchanted piece of dwarven workmanship punched neatly through the door. Voices shouted in fear and skittered away. A second blow shattered the door entirely. Its remnants crumbled into the hole.

  He shouldered the pick and made ready to drop down. Reyna motioned for him to step back. It was a wise precaution. Had he not retreated, the arrow that hissed out of the hole would have been buried in his chest.

  Hask emerged from the doorway, bow in hand. He spotted Wren first and took aim. Reyna acted quickly, swiping with her stolen sword. The single, inexpert slice with the unique weapon was enough to cut neatly through the bow.

  Before the adult malthrope could recover from the shock of what had occurred, the twins pounced. They each grasped an arm and hauled him out of the doorway. Wren wrestled him to the ground and put the tip of the pick to his throat. Reyna stood over him, sword held at the ready.

  “H-how?” Hask asked.

  “We’ve been through a lot, Hask,” Wren said.

  “We’ve been to Boviss’s lair and back,” Reyna said.

  “Impossible!” he said.

  Reyna turned to the doorway. The scampering of feet suggested reinforcements would be arriving soon. They were going to have to get a good deal more persuasive, and fast, because holding one of their villagers hostage wasn’t going to help with negotiations. A thought occurred to her.

  “This village needs gold, right?” she said. “You have all the food you need for Boviss, but you haven’t got a nugget of gold to give.”

  “The Fennecs have it all. We can’t get any,” Hask said.

  Reyna dug her paw into one of the many pockets in her layers of clothing. She threw down a handful of glittering gold and jewels stolen from Boviss’s hoard. The look in Hask’s eyes was that of someone who had finally found an oasis after weeks in the desert.

  “And there’s more where that came from,” Wren said, tossing a handful of his own gold. “But only if you listen.”

  Armed malthropes poured from the stronghold beneath the tree’s door, weapons drawn. Reyna held her weapon in one paw, her inexperience more than evident. In the other, she held a fistful of stolen precious gems. Wren kept the pick to Hask’s throat, but similarly fished out a nugget of gold the size of a goose egg.

  For a few tense moments, no one moved. No one spoke. Reyna broke the stalemate.

  “We can tell you where we got this gold, and these weapons. And we can tell you where to get enough for all of you. But only if you listen, and you don’t kill us.”

  Another few moments passed before anyone moved again. This time it was Hask. He nodded to the others. They backed away and lowered their weapons.

  Wren and Reyna each took a breath.

  “Now there is a lot to say,” Wren said, easing up on the pick.

  “And you have to listen to all of it,” Reyna said.

  “We can prove it all.”

  “But none of it will matter if you don’t listen to what we have to say about what comes next.”

  All in attendance nodded. Wren and Reyna nodded to each other as well. They each offered a paw to Hask and pulled him from the ground.

  “Now listen close,” Wren said.

  “We don’t have time to do this twice.”

  #

  Days later, a windstorm scoured the desert. It did not, however, scour Sorrel. When the wind reached her, it obligingly stopped and the wind-swept sand sprinkled harmlessly to the ground. The harsh wind and obscuring debris made for exceptional cover, however. As such, Sorrel was able to run without concern for the trail she’d leave behind. That was good, because with the weight of the stolen goods and the chain she still wore, it would have been a very long trip otherwise.

  “I am beginning to understand just how helpful you fairies are,” Sorrel remarked.

  “Mama owe Losh,” he replied.

  “I suppose I do,” she said, reluctantly.

  Sorrel stopped to catch her breath and survey her surroundings. The stretch of desert was beginning to look and smell quite familiar. On top of all the other valuable tricks he knew, Losh was a fine guide.

  She tugged at the chains and the shackle that held it to her neck. Though it meant hauling the heaps of enchanted metal much, much farther than either of the twins would have, she couldn’t bring herself to inflict the chain upon them. It had crossed her mind to try applying it to Losh to see if it would be reducible to a more manageable size, but the little creature already treated her in a rather surly manner. She didn’t want to risk him changing his mind about lending a hand.

  Her ears flicked. Somewhere beneath the wailing wind, she could hear the patter of cunning paws. She was slowly and steadily being surrounded. Any other time, she wouldn’t have allowed such a thing to happen. But her long journey had given her ample time to mull over what she wanted to do when she arrived, and how they were likely to treat her when they encountered her. If she was correct, it wouldn’t matter if they surrounded her. If she was incorrect, she would be captured, and one way or another, killed.

  She would thus take pains to ensure she was correct.

  Shadowy forms began to emerge from the storm, weapons held at the ready. Sorrel held her ground. Six of the Fennecs surrounded her. When they were satisfied she wasn’t going to attack, a seventh figure emerged. It was the chieftain.

  He looked up to her, eyes squinted against the lingering wind at the edge of Losh’s influence.

  “Do you remember me?” Sorrel asked, a dash of challenge in her voice.

  “I do.”

  “And do you remember what you did to me?”

  “I do. How is it that you returned?” the chieftain asked. “You were an offering. A sacrifice.”

  “I escaped.”

  “Impossible. Boviss is all powerful.”

  She crossed her arms. “I knew you wouldn’t believe my word, but surely you will believe your own senses. Am I not the same creature you captured? Am I not flesh and blood, standing before you?”

  “You are.”

  “Then either Boviss really is as powerful as you believe, and he chose to let me free; or he is as mortal and fallible as you and I, and I was able to escape him. That means you are risking his ire by threatening someone who travels with his blessing, or you are threatening the one creature in this world who can teach you how to defeat him. I do not think you can afford to threaten me any further in either case.”

  “We have seen Boviss soaring, searching. You will bring ruin upon us by coming here.”

  “Ruin is already upon you. I heard the demands of the dragon when you handed me over. You could not spare food enough for him before. And now he requires twice as much. Even if I’d not escaped, come the next full moon you would be offering more of your village to feed his hunger, or else watching your people starve as your food goes to him. But I have a plan to rid you of him forever.”

  “Rid us of him… He is our protector!”

  “A protector does not harvest those he protects. He is a tyrant. And the time has come for an uprising. If we defeat him, what right did he have to claim to be your protector? And if we fail? He would have killed us anyway.”

  “You would have us follow you? You who wears chains?”

  “You sent me in a cage. I returned in chains. Neither could keep me from my freedom.” She leaned down to him. “Imagine what I could have done if I’d not been imprisoned. Imagine what we could do if we worked together.
”

  “We would never reach him.”

  “I know the way to his lair. And I know a secret way inside.”

  “And how—”

  “I don’t think well with spears pointed at me. And I’ve dashed across the desert to reach you. Ask me inside. Offer me a drink.” She glanced aside. “And something for the fairy here. Maybe you’ll like what you hear.”

  The Fennecs considered her words.

  “My twins are up north, making the same offer to the Red malthropes as I am to you.” Sorrel dug a hand into a pocket and revealed a fistful of gems. “They have a heap of these. I know you don’t need them, but the Reds do. And if you don’t listen to me, and the Reds listen to them, then what do you think will happen to you?”

  After a tense silence, the Chieftain chattered to the others and they stepped aside.

  “You say what you want to say. But if we do not like it—”

  “You won’t like it,” Sorrel said. “It won’t be easy. But you’ll do it. Because you are malthropes. And malthropes aren’t fools. They know how to dig their way out of a bad situation. You just have to be willing to work. Now, let us talk.”

  #

  Reyna and Wren sat upon the great stone slab where not so long ago their mother had been offered. The random assemblage of stolen clothes, valuables, weapons, and armor were gone. Now they were dressed very much as the other Reds were. Leather armor joined the scattered pieces of stolen dwarf equipment, and deep green capes were layered over the top. Wren still carried his pick, and Reyna her sword, but the rest of their outfits made them look very much like a part of the entourage of six that had accompanied them. One was the village chieftain. The rest were her heavily armed guards. Three water fairies had also accompanied them, the better to hide their trails.

  “How much longer do you expect us to wait?” the Red chieftain asked.

  “Until they get here,” Wren said.

  “It won’t be long. Today is the day Mama said we should meet, so today is the day she will be here,” Reyna said.

  “It isn’t even night yet,” Wren said. “Give them time.”

  “He will not come,” the chieftain said. “The Fennecs are proud and strong-willed. They will not come here knowing they cannot succeed without our help.”

  “You came here knowing you’d need their help,” Reyna countered.

  “Mama survived in Boviss’s lair, and she escaped with our help,” Wren said. “She can persuade some malthropes to do the right thing. She can do anything.”

  “We have been rivals with the Fennecs for ages,” the chieftain said. “What makes you believe you and your mother can get us to set that rivalry aside?”

  “Because you’ve been playing the wrong game,” Reyna said. “And all you need to see is that there’s a better game to play.”

  Wren hopped up. “There! See?”

  The others turned. It was subtle, but a patch of the dry ground in the distance flickered with motion. Before long, four figures could be seen hurrying toward them. One was clearly Sorrel, standing a head and shoulders above the Fennecs. Another was the Fennec chieftain, and the remainder were guards. A familiar fairy joined them. As they approached, the armed members of both the forest and desert envoys became tense. Hands went to the grips of weapons. Postures stiffened. Teeth clenched.

  “Calm down!” Wren snapped.

  “We’re here to talk, not fight,” Reyna said.

  The twins hopped down and dashed to their mother. She crouched and pulled them into a hug.

  “We did it, Mama! We convinced them,” Reyna said.

  “We had to give them the gold and stuff. I hope that’s okay,” Wren said.

  “Whatever it takes, my little ones.” Sorrel raised her head and looked to the Red malthropes. “My children told you what we had to do?”

  “They did,” the Red chieftain said. “It is madness.”

  “Madness? Madness is fighting with your own kind to feed a dragon who doesn’t need the meal. Madness is paying a dragon who doesn’t need the gold. What I am offering you is freedom.” She jingled the chain she still wore wrapped around her body. “This? Your dragon put this on me not so long ago. I am already tired of it. You have been wearing your chains for far longer.”

  “You would have us kill our savior,” the forest Chieftain said.

  “What has he saved you from? Hmm? From the elves? Do you see any elves here? From the humans? The dwarves? Who is fighting you? Hmm? I saw other cages in the lair. How many of you have died because of him, and how many have been saved because of him? Starved because you needed the food to feed him? Killed by one another because you tried to steal what you needed? No more.”

  “Sorrel has spoken at length. Her plan will not be simple, but it has a chance,” the desert Elder said. “And having escaped him, she will have angered him. We will face Boviss’s ire whether we try the plan or not. And even if we do not, I do not suppose you have the gold to meet his requirements, and I know we do not have the flesh. We will lose people come the full moon regardless. The people of Burrow choose battle. What of you?”

  The forest Elder shifted her weight. “If we had time to see if this was true…”

  “There is not time,” Sorrel said. “We do this, all of us, at once, or it is not done.”

  The desert Elder stepped forward.

  “We have fought one another for too long.” He held out a hand. “The time has come to fight together.”

  His counterpart considered the offered hand for a moment, then reached out. “So be it.”

  Sorrel clapped. “Good! Then we start as soon as we can. We leave immediately. I will show you all where to go, where to hide. It will take every one of us, and all the time we have. Here is what we will need…”

  Chapter 14

  Boviss sat in the mouth of his lair, eyes on the mountains, waiting. Weeks had passed since he had lost Sorrel. He had been simmering with fury. She was with them. Most likely with the forest children. Creatures of a kind tended to seek one another out. They would have questions. Perhaps they would even have doubts. His lips curled a bit, revealing more of his terrible teeth. He would teach them not to question him, and never again to doubt him. As the moon revealed itself, he spread his wings.

  “They shall learn the price of disobedience.”

  He thrust himself from his perch. What had taken days for the fleeing malthrope to cover would take him little more than hours. He flew lazily, luxuriously. The price for this offering was double what it had been. Neither would be able to cover it. Even without the terrible plans he had in store for them to punish them for Sorrel’s actions, they would be trembling at the thought of his arrival. Better to let them suffer, let them see his shadow sweep the land. Let them boil in the anticipation.

  A leisurely flight eventually took him to the place of offering. His eyes set upon the twin slabs of stone below. They were empty.

  “What?” Boviss roared.

  He tucked his wings and plummeted. When he struck the ground, it was with force enough to shatter one of the slabs and heave the other from its mounting. Nothing. Not a scrap of food. Not a nugget of gold. And no malthrope from either the forest or the desert.

  “How dare they… How dare they?!”

  He leaped into the sky and headed north. As he flew, his mind roiled with anger. Worse, it simmered with uncertainty. What had happened? How could no one have arrived with an offering. Perhaps some disaster might have kept the forest children from attending, or perhaps the same for the desert children. But both? That both had abandoned their obligation stank of agreement. Agreement. After all these years of carefully playing them against each other, that they might have agreed to spit in the face of their benefactor was more than he could bear. If these ungrateful, pitiful, meaningless creatures believed they could work against him, he would show them what awaited those who trifled with him.

  Perhaps they were foolish enough to believe that he didn’t know where to find them if he wished to. The fore
st was enormous, and the piddling little nothings were quite good at hiding. Particularly with their precious fairies to stir the wind and foul their scent. But even the constant influence of the little things wouldn’t be enough to hide the scent of a whole village. And even if they could, he already knew where to find them. He’d always known.

  Mighty, majestic trees rose up beneath him. He watched them whisk by until he saw the one he was waiting for. Enormous, ancient. Of course they would have built their village around it. Perhaps the small-minded things even worshiped it, the deity he had come to replace. In a moment, it would no longer matter.

  Boviss opened his maw and belched forth a stout column of flame. The yellow-and-orange tongue of destruction washed through the trees like a wave. In the blink of an eye, the place that the malthropes had called home was entirely consumed in flame. He circled around and blasted another swath, carving a second line of flame across the heart of their village. A few more bursts of flame would be all it would take to completely eliminate the village and all its inhabitants. But that was not his aim. If he killed them all, there would be no one left to suffer, no one left to come to him seeking forgiveness. His toys would be lost. Better to give them this horrid scar to remind them, in the years it would take to rebuild, just how potent his wrath could be.

  It was a shame that the foliage was too dense for him to see their panic, their horror. But that was of little concern. He knew what was happening to them. That was enough. He could drink in the anguish of the desert creatures. He turned to the south and began the trek to the stretch of the desert they thought would keep them safe. After just a few hours more, he saw the rolling dunes and smelled the faint lingering scent of the Fennecs. They lacked a clear landmark like the tree for him to navigate by, and they were if anything even more skilled at concealing their home, but Boviss was a hunter above all else. He found his way first to where he believed the village to be, then put his senses to work finding precisely where they made their homes.

  A short search was all it took for him to come upon the carefully concealed mounds and burrows where the desert creatures lived. He could almost respect them. Buried in the ground as they were, most creatures couldn’t hope to threaten them. But he was no common beast. He drew in a breath and puffed his chest. Flames rolled from this nostrils and burst between his teeth. He blasted the ground and broiled the sand until it bubbled. His flames scoured half the village. Dunes started to slump down upon themselves as the burrows beneath collapsed. Any moment, like vermin, the other half of the village would scurry out of cover.