The Dwarven Wars

by Leah Cutter

  Kostya had said she was strong. And so had Brett. Mrs. Wentworth had never expressed an opinion, but then again, Mrs. Wentworth had come to warn Nora as part of a suicide mission. She hadn’t really lived very long.

  “Normally, Makers who don’t get taught when they’re younger don’t develop as much as you do,” Rainy said. “I wonder if your strength is in part due to how started, with that dwarf teaching you.”

  “Possibly,” Nora said. She’d been so frustrated all those years! She’d known a teacher was supposed to come. Still, she’d learned and practiced as much as she could. Teaching herself knots and weaving, learning how to knit circles of protection.

  None of it had been enough.

  Suddenly, the trap she wanted to make formed in her mind. It would look like a focusing device for someone who didn’t have much magical strength. The power of the web would travel from the outside in, each circle growing stronger.

  The very center would be hollow, as if she’d forgotten to close the middle of her web. It would stretch for a long distance, however, a tiny tunnel padded with sticky magic.

  It would trap Brett. She was absolutely certain it would work.

  Now, she just had to get rid of Rainy so she could build it!

  “I’d like to do some testing with you,” Rainy said. “To more accurately judge the power of your magic.”

  “Not now,” Nora said automatically.

  At Rainy’s puzzled look, Nora replied, “I’m too stressed right now. What with all that’s happening back at home. I just—I just don’t want add anything more. You know?”

  Rainy reached across the table and squeezed Nora’s hand. “Of course,” she said. “I understand. Still no word from them?”

  Nora fished out her phone. Still suspiciously empty of messages. She’d tried calling Mom but it had gone directly to voicemail, as if the phone was turned off. Or possibly no longer working as it had been blasted with fairy magic. She just didn’t know!

  Nora sighed. She smacked her phone down on the hard plastic table, wincing at the loud sound. She hadn’t cracked it. However, she was going to have to be more careful. “I don’t know what’s happening to them! Surely they should have called by now. What if that monster has them? What if they’ve been kidnapped by the fairies!”

  “I know. I’m sorry,” Rainy said. “I’m going to do some more research this weekend to see if there isn’t something more we can do for them, to protect them. Are you sure they won’t leave the monster’s territory?”

  “They might,” Nora said. “But not until the end of the semester. Maybe Dale can transfer his credits to another college…”

  She knew he didn’t want to leave, though. He had a girlfriend in Port City. A job. Hell, he might even be inheriting a garage.

  Bile filled her throat. She found herself sweating and shaking.

  Stupid Brett. Stupid boys.

  “Let’s get you back to your dorm so you can sleep,” Rainy said, standing.

  Nora stood. She swayed for a moment as her vision turned black around the edges.

  Rainy was suddenly by her side. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine,” Nora assured her teacher. She was just tired. Cranky. Stressed.

  It did not suddenly feel as though the web she built would trap her too.

  Nora knew better than that, despite how the ropes and circles appeared around the edges of her vision.

  Rainy’s warm touch on Nora’s arm brought her back to the present.

  “Okay, maybe I’m more tired than I realized,” Nora said, giving her teacher a smile. Or at least she tried to smile. She wasn’t sure what the expression actually looked like.

  Rainy peered up at Nora. “Sleep,” she insisted, “will be the best thing for you. Not practicing more spells. Or webs or traps. Come.”

  Rainy turned and walked out of the restaurant.

  Panic suffused Nora. Did Rainy know what Nora was up to? Did she suspect?

  Nora was going to have to finish this thing, this web, capture Brett, and kill him. Before her teachers forbade it.

  Dale had only been to two locations in the fairy kingdom: the palace and the warrior barracks. The first time he’d been to the kingdom, more than five years before, Queen Adele had enchanted everything Dale had seen, so it all looked amazingly pristine and magical. He hadn’t seen the decay.

  Coming down earlier that year to fix some of the clockwork imbedded in the warriors, he’d been shocked at how run down the kingdom appeared. The wooden walls of the barracks had dark spots of rot spreading across them. The paths looked little better than animal trails. Even the palace seemed on the verge of falling down, with actual holes in the stone walls.

  Rising up above the fairy kingdom gave him a better view of the entire place. It also showed him how the decay had spread. To the one side of the dome a large, dark spot spread, looking like the white ceiling had been scorched. Had there been a great fire there? The thatched roofs of the houses had black spots of rot along the edges directly below where he and Sebastian flew. Many of the streets seemed abandoned, with garbage piled up.

  Had it always been this bad? Probably. It couldn’t have fallen this far in just a few months.

  Dale shuddered when he realized dwarves ran through the street below them, chasing fairies. The fairies could turn and fight, but they had no weapons. Only the warriors were trained to fight with anything other than claws and teeth.

  Sebastian veered to the side, leading them away from the village. But not before Dale saw that a pitched battle had joined in one of the village squares. The roar rose up to them, guttural and hair-raising. The fairies attacked with whatever they had at hand: brooms broken off and used as pikes, kitchen knives, shovels, and even a farmer’s scythe.

  The dwarves were surrounded, fighting back to back, defending themselves as best they could in such tight quarters. They were so hemmed in it was difficult for them to swing their weapons.

  Dale twisted his head to see more of the battle before they flew away. He couldn’t help but wince and shudder as he saw both fairies and dwarves fall. Blood sprayed in a long arc as a dwarf made contact with his ax. The dwarf beside him folded in two as a pike rammed into his belly.

  It didn’t look like a Hollywood battle. It was too chaotic. Too loud. Too much happening at the same time. He didn’t know where to look, or how to stop looking.

  Finally, they flew far enough away that the rooftops hid the scene.

  Racanta asked, “Never seen a battle before?”

  Dale shook his head. “Never. Not like that.” He understood that some of the more recent movies had tried to give that chaotic feel, however, it wasn’t the same. And even the best sound effects didn’t have that hair-raising pitch, couldn’t include the smell of blood and gore.

  “Why did the dwarves come? Why are they battling?” Dale asked Racanta.

  The warrior shrugged. “They need no reason. Fairies and dwarves have always battled.”

  “Where did they come from?” Dale said. “They arrived in a boat.”

  Racanta nodded. “Probably from the old country. All the way across the ocean.” She paused, then added, “If you asked them, I would bet they would tell you that they are here to avenge their comrade’s death. Kostya.”

  “That would make sense. That Kostya knew they were coming, or had goaded them into coming,” Dale said. He quickly told Racanta of the traps set around his house.

  The warrior looked disturbed. “This was well planned, then. Not just a whim. I will have to tell the others.” She glanced curiously at Dale. “How did you see the boat? And the traps? They should be all well hidden with magic.”

  “The Old One,” Dale said. Then he bit his lips together, feeling like even more of a traitor. He’d been too curious when Brett had invited him to meet. He shouldn’t have gone, should have considered how Nora would take it.

  But then again, if Dale hadn’t gone to meet Brett, he and his mom would have been trapped by the dwarves when they came
and attacked.

  “You know that we fairies are leaving? The Old One hounds us and will not allow us to stay?” Racanta asked.

  “I know,” Dale said. “And I know it was because you helped us. Me and my sister.”

  Racanta shook her head. “He only suffered us to be here for a while. He would have driven us out eventually. That is the nature of his kind.”

  “Ah,” Dale said, though he didn’t understand. Why wouldn’t Brett allow anyone to stay in his territory?

  Then Dale had to push down the sudden wave of excitement as the thought occurred to him: Brett might drive out all the fairies, as well as all the dwarves. Then he and his mom could stay here in Port City safely.

  Well, as safe as they’d be in the monster’s territory.

  They really were going to have to leave. Unless Brett died soon…

  A sudden cry drew Dale’s attention.

  Sebastian and his mom started plummeting toward the ground.

  “What happened?” Dale asked as the pair of them slowed their descent but continued downward.

  “Sebastian was shot by a dwarf,” Racanta growled. They flew rapidly toward the other pair.

  Shouldn’t the fairy be able to take a single arrow shot? What was happening? Was he just too old?

  Only the priest knew about the bolt hole. How were they going to escape if he died?

  Ivan howled with joy when they finally, finally made it out of the palace.

  Not many of the remaining troop were behind him. Most of the groups of dwarves had taken different routes through the palace and out into the kingdom. He saw the evidence of their passing by the number of corpses piled up along the way.

  Too many dwarves lay among the fairies, however. His own original group of twelve men were down to just five. Were his men just getting sloppy? Or was something else afoot?

  The great dome above the kingdom showed the sun close to the “western” horizon. If Ivan had more time he might have considered admiring the fairy magic that produced such lights. As it was, it was well past time for them to be leaving.

  A scout stood by the front gate of the palace. Great claw marks marred his face, and blood coated his armor. The scout swayed on his feet but kept to his post, using his bow and arrows to pick off any encroaching fairies. He was a young dwarf, with round cheeks and a scraggly beard.

  “That way, Sir,” the scout said as soon as he saw Ivan, pointing off to the left.

  “Come with us,” Ivan told the scout as he raced forward.

  The scout shook his head. “Two more groups still unaccounted for,” he said stubbornly.

  “You are a brave and honorable warrior,” Ivan told him as he hurried past.

  “Thank you, Sir,” the scout said, making an effort to pull himself up straighter.

  Ivan knew that the scout was a dead man walking, even though his injuries didn’t seem that severe. He kept his post through sheer dwarven stubbornness.

  Ivan would trade in half his army for a dozen men like that.

  They raced up the plain dirt path. The ground felt soft under Ivan’s boots, and the trail had been prettied up with white stones laid out carefully along the edges.

  Who needed such foppish decorations? The fairies should have paid more attention to their defenses.

  A skirmish between dwarves and fairy warriors still carried on to the left of the path. Ivan didn’t stop to help. It was more important that the dwarves continue on through the kingdom. The dwarves appeared to be winning, anyway.

  In front of Ivan, past the plain wooden buildings, stood a long-disused fountain. The fairies built such pretty things, only to let them fall into decay.

  Just beyond the fountain stood an arched doorway. Ivan assumed it led up to the surface. It was wide enough and tall enough for more than one fairy to fly through at the same time.

  “To me!” Ivan called. “To me!”

  At the doorway, one of his warriors n paused, pulling out a short wooden whistle. He blew into it, three sharp short blasts, followed by a longer call, then three short calls again.

  Sharp, short whistling replies echoed through the fairy kingdom, followed by fainter and even fainter ones.

  The dwarves who remained had heard the call. It was time to retreat. They’d all be running for the exits now.

  Down on the beach, close to the entrance of one of Kostya’s tunnels, they’d regroup. Count their dead. And make plans for the next attack: to kill the human Tinker.

  Varlaam stood on the cold shore. The afternoon sun shone wanly through the high, sparse clouds. They’d landed just south of Ivan’s vessel, the next cove down. Scouts had already confirmed that Ivan had (foolishly) not left any dwarves on board to protect his boat.

  Varlaam considered burning it as a message.

  The air here smelled similar to the old world, full of sand, seaweed, and the salt of the ocean. There was more power here, as Kostya had promised. Varlaam had seen the sheets of energy floating above the cliffs, just waiting for anyone to take and use.

  However, his staff remained unresponsive. It was as if a barrier stood between his feet and the pools of magic lying deep underground. He’d never experienced such a thing before. Was it like this everywhere in the New World? Or was it just because he was so close to the ocean, the water that his staff hated so much?

  While the scouts searched through Kostya’s tunnels and looked for Ivan and his followers, the rest of Varlaam’s dwarves set up the camp. He hadn’t brought that many dwarves with him—less than two hundred—though he had brought mostly seasoned warriors. They were older, sure. The last of the great fairy battles had been about a century before. But these dwarves had all proven themselves in battle.

  They were far better warriors than the youngsters Varlaam had sent with Ivan.

  Where was that brother of his? The scouts had no idea. No dwarves had been left behind in the nearby tunnels.

  Had Ivan already started his attack on the fairies? Was there some great battle going on that Varlaam couldn’t find?

  It would make sense that Ivan would be so reckless. Varlaam wouldn’t have attacked until he had a better sense of the land.

  It didn’t really bother Varlaam, however. Let Ivan spend his troops on a foolishly planned fight. Varlaam and his men would be seen as even greater saviors afterward.

  A zinging sound drew Denise’s attention.

  Before she could ask what that had happened, she and Sebastian suddenly started falling toward the ground.

  Denise gasped when she realized that the sound had been the flight of the arrow now imbedded firmly in Sebastian’s chest.

  The old fairy grimaced. He clutched Denise’s hand hard. His wings strained to straighten them out.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, blinking. They stopped falling, but were no longer flying. Instead, they drifted toward the ground. A broad field lay beneath them, its crops harvested, just straw-colored dry stalks remaining.

  “What can I do to help?” Denise asked automatically. She couldn’t fly down to the ground on her own, and she suspected that she was draining the fairy’s power.

  Sebastian caught his breath, then shook his head. “You can’t help. You aren’t the problem.” He grunted.

  A golden light surrounded the fairy for a brief moment, then flared out. The hand Denise held grew burning hot for an instant as well. Then it grew frighteningly cold and clammy.

  “Something…something is trying to steal all the energy from me,” Sebastian gasped out. “I’m sorry,” he said again.

  The landing jarred Denise, her feet hitting the ground hard, making her head snap forward. She stumbled for a few steps, catching her balance, before turning back to the fairy.

  Sebastian lay on his back, his wings spread out on either side. The yellow of his robes had faded and the streamers attached to his wings no longer sparkled. The arrow stuck obscenely out of the middle of his stomach. Blood seeped around the wound, staining his robes red.

  “Should we pull out the a
rrow?” Denise said, kneeling beside Sebastian.

  He shook his head. “Won’t do any good.” He swallowed hard.

  Dale and Racanta came running up. “Did you…oh,” Dale said when he saw Sebastian.

  “Here,” Racanta said, already reaching for the arrow.

  “No,” Sebastian said firmly.

  Racanta stopped, puzzled. “What’s wrong?” she said, finally taking in how pale Sebastian had grown.

  “There’s other magic afoot,” Sebastian said. He put his hand on the arrow. “Not in the weapons. In the air. Through the earth. It steals life.” He coughed and groaned in pain.

  “Can’t we stop it?” Denise asked. “Can’t you?” she said, turning to Racanta.

  The warrior shook her head. “Don’t know how.” Then she cursed. “Damned dwarves.”

  “No,” Sebastian said softly. “Something else.”

  “The Old One,” Dale said flatly.

  Denise felt her eyes widen. Brett was doing this? Killing any fairy who was already injured? It would help drive them off his territory. She shook her head, disgusted.

  “You need…out,” Sebastian said. He’d started panting.

  “Where is the priest’s bolt hole?” Denise asked.

  Sebastian closed his eyes. He opened and closed his mouth a few times without making a sound. The blood seeped further out of the wound in his stomach, pooling like a lake.

  Denise grabbed Sebastian’s hand, squeezing it hard. “Where is the escape tunnel?” she asked.

  Heat flared against her palm. Sebastian opened his eyes. It looks as though blood had seeped into them as well, the whites now red and the golden pupils grown purple.

  “Temple. The murals, behind,” he said. His voice was a harsh whisper. “Talk to them. Tell them…Tinker. They know the way.”

  Sebastian went very still. His appearance changed, softened.

  Denise would have sworn that Sebastian was an old fairy, older than Cornelius with his gray hair.

  However, in death, Sebastian suddenly appeared much younger and more vulnerable. His eyes turned fully black and his mouth fell open, showing broken and pointy teeth.