He looked at the elf seriously.
“If I fall, get your people out of there. I doubt if the dragon will follow them if they swim for it. At least not for too long anyway.”
The crowd of elves standing behind Ethmira murmured at Simon's words and she frowned.
“We do not desert our friends, Simon. Certainly not in the middle of battle.”
Simon looked past her at the elven archers. All of them were wearing the same mottled leather that Ethmira was, but they were hooded and they wore masks that covered all but their eyes. He couldn't tell which tall, slim figure was male or female.
“Folks, if I'm dead, you won't be deserting me. You'll be retreating to fight another day.”
He looked back at Ethmira.
“I need to know that you will save yourselves if things go bad. Please. It will make it easier for me if I have one less thing to worry about.”
He could tell that she was struggling with her own sense of right and wrong. Finally, reluctantly, she nodded.
“Very well. If it will ease your mind, we will do what you ask. But we'll try to save as many of your people as we can.”
The elves were silent. Simon felt some relief at the answer.
“Thank you. All of you. I appreciate your understanding. Now, can we get organized and get these rafts over to the island? Time is running.”
Ethmira nodded and turned to give orders to her people.
Simon and Clara walked back to the humans and he asked her to assign her archers to a raft. He felt that it would be better for the villagers to fight together rather than with the elves. They knew each other and how they fought. The elves would feel the same, he was sure.
As everyone got organized, Simon joined Eric and his three friends who'd been watching events with wonder.
“Wow. Real, actual elves!” Anna said excitedly. “I always thought that they only existed in fairy tales.”
“Anna, relax,” Gerard said with a wide grin. “I mean, you've met dwarves for goodness sake. Why should elves be that much more surprising?”
She poked him in the ribs.
“Because, genius, the dwarves are basically like us. They're not magical. They live deep underground, yeah, but they are just shorter, heavier people. But these guys...” She waved at the elves that were boarding the rafts. “I mean, look at them. They don't even move like us. They kind of, I don't know, flow instead of walk. Have you noticed?”
They all watched the elves and Simon could see what she meant. They had a grace that made the humans next to them look clumsy and stiff in comparison.
As he watched, the rafts full of elves, five on each one, launched. Two elves on each raft rowed fluidly toward the island.
The human archers split themselves into two groups. One launched while the last group looked over at Simon. Clara was standing beside the raft and gave him a questioning look.
“Are we taking a ride on the last raft? Or did you want us to swim?”
He had to laugh.
“Neither. You guys go ahead,” he told the archers. “I'll bring the rest over myself.”
They stared at him dubiously but Clara motioned for them to go ahead and then watched as they launched and began to row. She walked back to Simon and smiled at him and the others.
“Very well, wizard. How are we getting over there?”
She waved at the distant island.
“I'll Gate us there. Everyone, hold hands please. Aeris, Kronk, grab on the way you did earlier.”
They all held hands and watched Simon a little nervously. He took Clara's right hand in his left and waited for the two elementals to grab on to him. Then he raised the staff, felt the blood flow and cast the spell.
The transition was almost instantaneous over so short a distance and the six of them, plus the elementals, appeared several feet away from the lighthouse.
Several of them staggered and there were cries of disbelief as they realized where they were.
“Holy cow,” Anna said as she looked around with wide eyes. “That was amazing!” She looked at Simon with admiration. “I'm surprised you walk anywhere.”
He had to laugh.
“It takes a bit out of me, Anna. I actually like walking. Is everyone okay?”
They all nodded and then the group walked to the south shore and watched the rafts approaching.
Several of the elves cheered when they saw the humans standing on the island waiting for them. Anna and Virginia waved at them happily.
It's like they're on holiday, Simon thought. But there's a dragon ahead and those cheers could turn to screams in a heartbeat.
Still, he was pleased that they were in such good spirits. It boded well for the battle to come.
Ethmira anchored her raft directly south of the shore and then directed the remaining elves to spread out around the island. The two rafts with the human archers ended up about fifty feet on either side of the elven maiden's raft.
Once every group was in place, Simon took Aeris to one side and nodded toward the hills to the north.
“How long?” he asked.
Aeris checked the sky as he had earlier.
“Perhaps thirty minutes. It never returns before dusk and that is approaching quickly.”
The sun was indeed dipping steadily toward the horizon. As Simon watched its steady descent, several gulls flew by overhead, their lonely calls making his skin rise in goosebumps.
Clara joined him and they walked together over to the lighthouse.
“I wonder how long its been since this little guy was actually used,” she mused aloud as she looked up at the structure.
“Years,” Simon told her. “It was out of commission when I visited here twenty years ago.”
He rapped the side of the lighthouse with his knuckles and it echoed hollowly in response.
“It's as dry as tinder, so it should burn well.”
He looked out at the nearest raft. The elves stood steadily even though the current was making the raft bob and dip and he saw them scanning the skies to the north.
“I like your new accessory,” Clara said, breaking into his thoughts.
Simon looked at her in confusion and she nodded at the staff he was leaning on.
“Oh that. It was a gift from an old friend.”
“Really?”
She raised a hand toward the staff and then pulled it back with a gasp, as if she'd been burned.
“Power,” she whispered. “It has so much power coiled within it.”
She looked intently at Simon.
“Is it safe to use? I sense a darkness inside of the thing. A feeling of...hunger. Emptiness. It is a dangerous tool, Simon.”
He held it up and the bronze coating captured the last rays of the sun.
“I know. Believe me, I do. But I need every weapon I can use today. And I think I have it under control.” He smiled wryly. “I hope I do anyway.”
“Well, you know best. Just be careful with it.”
“We're watching him closely, lady,” a little voice said from down at Simon's knees.
Kronk was staring up at them and he pointed up at Aeris.
“Both of us are looking out for my master. That staff will not control him. You have my word on that.”
“Control you?” Clara seemed confused. “What does he mean by that?”
“Nothing, Clara.” Simon glared down at Kronk and the little guy just shrugged. “He's overstating things. I'm in charge of this staff, not the other way around.”
“If you say so,” she said dubiously.
What more she would have added was interrupted by a sudden lurch in the earth under their feet.
Simon staggered and then looked around wildly.
“What the hell?” he exclaimed. The lighthouse was rocking slightly as the shaking continued. “Earthquake? Here?”
Clara's expression caught his eye. Instead of looking surprised or worried, she was grinning.
“Ah, so our allies decided to join us after all. I was
n't sure that they would.”
“Allies? What are you talking about?”
Clara just pointed past Simon and he whirled around and stared as the earth in the center of the island began to rise as if pushed up from below. A mound formed and as he watched, a gleam of metal appeared in the fading light.
Some sort of machine was drilling out of the earth and Simon stared at it in disbelief.
Machines don't work anymore, he thought numbly. This isn't possible.
When about ten feet of the huge drill was sticking out of the sandy soil, the machine stopped. The ensuing silence was filled with the snap and pop of cooling metal.
There were cries from the rafts and the four Changlings hurried over to join Simon and Clara.
“They came! They really came!” Anna was hopping up and down on her toes with excitement.
“Who came?” Simon looked at them all and saw that the entire group was grinning. “Clara, what is going on?”
“Dwarves, Simon. We told the dwarves about our plan to confront the dragon and asked if they would like to join us.” She was watching the drill as she spoke. “They were amazed but noncommittal. So we left it at that. One thing I've learned is that dwarves are a stubborn lot. That's why I'm a bit surprised by their decision to help us.”
There was a loud clang of metal on metal, and a square door appeared on the side of the machine and swung open with an ear-splitting squeal.
“Blast it! Get someone to oil these damned hinges. They squeak like a mouse with a hernia.”
The deep, rough voice echoed out of the drill and Simon had to restrain a laugh.
As he watched, a large, armored head appeared from the depths of the drill and climbed out to stand next to it.
The dwarf was covered with thick, heavy armor, black and intricately inlaid with silvery designs. He carried a massive mace across his back and yet moved like the armor and weapon weighed nothing.
More dwarves climbed out and stood next to the first until there were a dozen short, wide figures standing there, looking around curiously.
“Well, where's the blasted dragon?” one of them barked. “If we made this trip for nothing, I'm going to bash in some heads.”
“Aye and I'll join you,” another added. “Twelves hours spent in that contraption with your stench has given me the urge to smash something.”
“Shut up, both of you,” the first dwarf to exit the machine said. He caught sight of Clara and stomped over to the group. He stopped and looked up at her, hands on his hips.
“Well, cleric, here we are. If you've already killed the wyrm, I warn you, my men won't be happy.”
Clara laughed at the dwarf. He was only about four feet tall but seemed almost as wide as he was high. Simon saw a twinkle in his eyes and realized that the dwarf was joking.
“And hello to you too, my friend. Don't worry, the dragon hasn't appeared yet. You'll have a chance to fight it along with the rest of us.”
She turned to Simon and her voice became quite formal.
“Simon O'Toole, allow me to introduce Shandon Ironhand. He is the son of the dwarven king. Shandon, this is Simon. Our wizard.”
The dwarf removed his helmet and bowed to Simon, who returned the bow awkwardly. Shandon's eyes were coal-black and his skin looked like it was carved from pebbly stone. He had a beard that was plaited and hung to his waist.
“Wizard, eh? Hmmf. Any good?”
“Um,” Simon hesitated, wondering what to say. The dwarf was looking him up and down with keen eyes.
“Of course he'd good, Shandon,” Clara said stoutly. “Considering that we're all new to this magic business. I daresay he's the best wizard in the entire country.”
“Only wizard is more closer to the truth, I'd guess.”
The dwarven leader blew out a loud breath and then nodded.
“Well, just do your best, lad. That's all we can ask.”
He turned around to look at the other dwarves. They were mumbling amongst themselves and several were pointing at the elves floating offshore. A few were laughing.
“Well, what are you all standing around for like a gaggle of gossiping old women?” Shandon bellowed. “Get that damned machine out of the hold and set it up!”
The dwarves jumped as one and almost fell over each other trying to get back into the drill.
“Oh my,” the dwarven leader sighed. “It's so hard to find good help. What did I do to deserve such a clumsy bunch of layabouts like that?”
Still shaking his head, Shandon went back to the drill and climbed inside.
Simon was still watching in disbelief, feeling like he'd been hit in the head with a bag of sand. He looked at Clara and she burst out laughing.
“Are they always like that?” he asked weakly.
“Yes, pretty much. Boisterous, argumentative, loud. All of that. But also intensely loyal. And I honestly think that they don't know what fear is. I think any one of them would attack a dragon single-handedly. That's how confident they are in their strength and toughness.”
She lowered her voice, although no one was nearby except Kronk and Aeris. The four Changlings had walked back toward the lighthouse, chatting lightly as if dwarves popping out of the ground was an everyday occurrence.
“Dwarves and elves don't really get along, Simon,” she confided to him. “It's just as well that the elves are on rafts instead of the island. I don't think Shandon and his people would be very happy if they had to fight side by side with them.”
“Really? Why not?”
She shrugged.
“Who knows? Some ancient disagreement, apparently. Dwarves will hold a grudge to the end of the world, it seems, and elves aren't much better.”
Simon looked out at the rafts and saw the elves talking and gesturing angrily. Apparently they weren't too pleased to see the dwarves.
“Hmm, I didn't know that. Well, whatever the disagreement, I'm glad they've chosen to join us.”
He stared at the drill and heard banging coming up from inside. He occasionally heard Shandon yelling orders and grinned in spite of the weirdness of the situation.
“Any idea how they can make machines work?” he asked the cleric. “With magic returned to the world, technology isn't supposed to function anymore.”
“It doesn't. Dwarves use magic to power all of their machinery. Like us, the Changlings I mean, they can use magic. Enchantments are cast on their armor, weapons, practicality everything they have. The elves on the other hand are magical creatures. They don't use magic, they are magic.”
“Yes. Ethmira said something similar to me the first time we met. Interesting distinction.”
Aeris floated over a few feet and hovered at Simon's shoulder.
“Excuse me for interrupting, but I'd like to head over to the north side of the river. Hopefully I can give you an early warning when I spot the dragon.”
“Good idea, Aeris. Thanks. But be careful. As soon as you spot the thing, get back here right away.”
Aeris nodded, shot upward and disappeared.
“Helpful little people, aren't they?” Clara commented.
“They are indeed. Without them both, I don't know where I'd be today. Not here, that's for sure.”
A loud clattering got Simon's attention and he looked over to see the dwarves piling out of the drill carrying long metal struts, pulleys and other assorted gear that he couldn't identify.
“Set it up near the water,” Shandon ordered and then walked over to stand next to the wizard and the cleric.
“So what is that, Shandon?” Clara asked as she watched the dwarves begin to build...something.
“That, my dear cleric, is an arbalest. A lovely weapon it is. We can loose two bolts a minute with that beauty.”
Two of the dwarves carried a bundle between them and when they dropped it and untied it, Simon saw a stack of steel projectiles at least six feet long. They glowed dimly in the growing dusk.
“The bolts are enchanted, of course,” Shandon continued. “We'v
e never used them on a dragon's hide before, but I wager they'll do some damage to the beastie.”
“Amazing,” Simon said and the dwarven leader smiled modestly.
“Oh, it's nothing. I don't think it will kill the thing, but it may give it pause. Between our weapon and those blasted elven bows, we'll keep the dragon busy.”
He looked closely at Simon, who shifted his feet nervously.
“And then it'll be your turn, wizard. I don't know what tricks you have up your magical sleeves, but I hope they're good ones. Or instead of a battle, the dragon will be having a barbecue.”
Shandon turned away and joined his men. He began directing the construction of the weapon and Simon leaned over to Clara and whispered in her ear.
“Barbecue? Dwarves barbecue?”
Clara put a hand over her mouth to suppress a giggle.
“No, Simon. We do. They've learned our language from us and, I suppose, picked up a few extra words and phrases that we didn't expect.”
She laughed then and Simon joined her. If the entire situation wasn't so dire, he'd be laughing constantly at the absurdity of the whole affair.
A tap on his shoulder made Simon turn around to find Eric standing behind him.
“Simon, Ethmira just called over to us. She wants to talk to you.”
“Thanks, Eric. I'll see you later,” he told Clara who nodded and went back to watching the dwarves.
Simon hurried over to the south side of the island and stood as close as he could to the raft. Ethmira was standing, surefooted, on the bobbing vessel watching him with her hands on her hips. She was frowning.
“You wanted to see me?” he called to her.
“I did. What, in the name of all of my ancestors, are those dwarves doing here? You never mentioned an alliance with those barbarians.”
She sounded outraged and Simon rubbed his face.
Just what I need today, he thought.
“That's because they aren't my allies, Ethmira. Clara and her people have been trading with them for some time now and she invited them to join in the battle, if they chose to. As you can see, they did.”
Simon couldn't see the faces of the elves that stood behind Ethmira, but their hands were clenched and their movements jerky. They were obviously upset and he realized that he had to say something quickly to defuse the situation.
Tales from the New Earth: Volume One Page 38
