by Sam Ferguson
“Why do the doors open inward?” Kyra asked. “Shouldn’t they open outward to offer more protection against battering rams?”
Berklin laughed and thumbed at Kyra. “See, if only the powers that make the decisions had as much sense as your lady friend, Kathair, then we would be in fine shape.”
Kyra smiled at the compliment and then followed Kathair through the portal.
She could smell the ox dung as they passed through, but the odor quickly gave way to the smells of dust and roasting meat.
They walked for several minutes down an old, dusty road dimly lit by candles housed in glass cases atop wooden poles just a bit taller than Kathair. They soon turned down a path that was narrower than the main road and was flanked by short, brown wooden buildings. The doors were simple and there were usually one or two windows facing the street, but occasionally there were buildings without windows. All of the buildings were scrunched up against each other, some taller and some shorter, but none with an inch of space between them. Most had candles that could be seen through the windows, but some were entirely dark inside.
A short, fat woman came out into the street from one of the buildings on the right. She shot Kyra a sour look and then tossed a dead rat into the street. Kyra paused momentarily as a couple of stray cats seemed to materialize from the shadows and rushed in to fight over the prize.
“Disgusting,” Kyra said as they continued walking.
“Afraid of rats?” Kathair teased.
Kyra shook her head. “No, I simply find them revolting.”
They came to a road of cobblestones that crossed the dirt path they were on. Kathair pointed to the left and then motioned for Kyra to keep up.
Kyra saw several signs. Some were ornate with fresh paint or elaborate engravings. Each sign was cut in a different shape and hung above the front door of an inn. There was the Rosewood, the Midnight Traveler, The Spotted Owl Inn, and then there was one plain sign that simply had the word “Inn” etched lightly into its side. All but the last one had their doors cast wide open. Kyra could hear the many different songs emanating from the buildings and out to mix in the street. A bard played a lyre in the Midnight Traveler. A small band of fiddlers created a lively tune in the Rosewood, and someone was singing and playing a piano in the Spotted Owl Inn. Kyra smiled then. A flood of memories came to her mind. The music brought memories of dancing with her mother at the mid-summer festival each year for as long back as she could remember. She closed her eyes and, for a moment, could see herself dancing with her mother again.
Her mother’s hair spun out behind her in a wide flare. The two of them laughed and held each other’s hands as they began to spin faster and faster, their feet struggling to keep pace with the fiddlers. Then they fell to the side, crashing into a soft pile of hay and laughed aloud.
Kyra opened her eyes and the memory was gone.
She reached up to wipe a tear and then blushed when she noticed that Kathair was watching her.
“You all right?” he asked.
She nodded.
“Thinking of your mother?”
Kyra smiled. “She loved to dance,” she explained.
Kathair stopped and held out his hand. Kyra looked at it and arched a brow.
“Come, I’m not much of a dancer, but I can show you something fun,” Kathair said.
Kyra was about to protest, but Kathair reached forward and took her hands in his. “Hold on,” he said as he stepped in close. “I used to do this back in Tualdern, it drove the elders mad because it always disrupted the dances the others were doing.”
“What do I do?” Kyra asked.
“Lean back, and try to keep up,” Kathair said.
Kyra found her heart racing with joy and heavy with sorrow all at the same time as Kathair smiled and then let out a laugh as he leaned back to his arms’ full length. The two began to spin. It was the same as when she used to do this with her mother once they had tired of dancing, but it was also different. Kathair’s hands were warm and strong, holding Kyra locked in the spin, whereas Kyra’s mother had always had soft hands. After only a moment, Kyra was laughing as well and the two spun and spun until their feet tripped upon themselves and they tumbled down to the ground.
It was not the soft landing that Kyra had always been used to, but it didn’t seem to matter. Kathair had done something that Kyra could not do for herself. He chased the grief away from the memory, and gave Kyra the chance to enjoy thinking about her mother without feeling overwhelmed with loss.
She turned her head and looked at him, his chest and stomach heaving as he laughed wildly, lying upon his back in the middle of the road. He struggled to sit up and put a hand to the side of his head.
“It’s been a long time since I have done that!” Kathair exclaimed. “I don’t remember the ground being so hard before.”
Kyra nodded as she rose to her feet. Everything around her was still spinning slightly, but she closed her eyes and counted to ten, and then focused on a single spot in front of her. The only thing was, when she opened her eyes to focus on something, she found her gaze locked with Kathair’s blue eyes. For the first time, she noticed how deeply blue they were. She was beginning to realize that there was much more to this young man than a sword. She smiled and turned away almost at the same moment that he averted his eyes.
“Come on,” Kathair said. “We should keep moving so we get back on time.”
The two walked to the inn with the plain sign and then Kathair motioned for her to follow him through a small alleyway to the back. The two of them had to turn sideways as the space between the inn and the building next door was very narrow. As they came around the back of the inn Kathair pointed to a blacksmith shop that was joined to the back of the inn. “That’s where we’re going.”
Kyra could see the orange and yellow glow from the forge. Smoke rose up high over the chimney, somehow darker than the night sky itself. “Your friend is here?” she asked. “And you are sure he will have a dwarven charm I can use?”
Kathair smiled. “I think you are going to enjoy this,” he said with a wink. He reached back and seized her hand, pulling her behind him as he walked into an open area where the coal for the furnace was piled higher than either of them were tall. Kyra could feel the heat coming from the open door of the shop, but what surprised her was that she could smell the heat. The only other time she had ever smelled heat was when Leatherback used his fire breath. In such a confined space, the odor made the air inside the forge heavy and somewhat difficult to breathe, but it had an alluring quality to it as well. She followed Kathair, allowing him to pull her by her hand until they found someone standing near a work table.
“What are you doing out of bed at this hour?” the blacksmith asked as he turned around.
Kyra eyed the blacksmith with wonder. There before her stood not a human, but a dwarf! He was only a little over three feet tall, with a red beard that swept the tops of his boots as he walked. His long, red hair was pulled into a single plait in the back. He wore a black apron and held his massive hammer in his left hand.
“You’re a dwarf,” Kyra said without thinking. She turned to look at Kathair’s beaming smile and told him, “Your friend’s a dwarf!”
“I might have guessed a girl was involved,” the dwarf said as he shook his head. “Kathair, you can’t just use your connection with me to impress all of your lady friends.”
Kyra looked back to the blacksmith. “All of his lady friends?” she echoed.
The blacksmith nodded and turned to set his hammer down on the work table with a thunk! “Oh yeah, once or twice a week he brings a new little lass around to impress them.”
“Stop it, Al,” Kathair said sternly. “You know that isn’t true.”
“Aye, but she doesn’t,” the dwarf said with a wink at Kyra.
Kyra then noticed the dwarf’s eyes land upon her hand, which was still gripped inside Kathair’s. The dwarf then winked again and wiped his hands on his apron. The young sorceress pul
led her hand away and moved it up to brush her hair back.
“Al, allow me to introduce Kyra Dimwater,” Kathair said as he held a hand out to indicate toward her.
“Enchanted,” the dwarf said with a bow. He then stepped in close and stuck out his meaty hand. “My friends call me Al,” the dwarf said. “I am the finest blacksmith in Buktah, and probably the entire Middle Kingdom.”
“Humble too,” Kathair put in.
Al shrugged. “There might be someone better than me inside Roegudok Hall, but in terms of blacksmiths that live above ground, I’m the best there is.”
“That doesn’t sound like a dwarf name,” Kyra noted as she shook Al’s hand.
“Well, that’s the thing about tall folk. In the three hundred years since I have been above ground, I haven’t found a single person who can say my name correctly. I guess your tongues don’t work well enough to pronounce it. So, I shortened it.”
“What’s your full name?” Kyra asked.
“Aldehenkaru’hktanah Sit’marihu,” he said with a wide smile. “Would you like to try to say it?”
Kyra gasped slightly and put a hand to her mouth. “Are you a prince?” she asked.
Al balked and glanced to Kathair.
Kathair shrugged and stared at Kyra blankly.
“No, I know that name,” Kyra insisted. “That is the royal family’s name, isn’t it? That is the line of the kings of Roegudok Hall.”
“And what would you know about the dwarves of Roegudok Hall? You can’t be more than fourteen, scarcely eligible to begin your time in the scholar’s school at Kuldiga Academy.”
“I’m nearly fifteen, I belong to the sorcery school, and I know plenty about Roegudok Hall.” Kyra began hotly, “I’ve read several books over the last year about the dwarves of the middle kingdom, including the story of how your people were first made from the Black Mountain by Hiasyntar Kulai, the great golden dragon, and your first king, Persais, was chosen for his valor in rescuing the crowned egg. I’ve even translated the first of the Chronicles of Kendualdern from the original Peish, which is how I know that the runes on the hammer you carry there say that you are the crowned prince.”
For a moment, Al stood flabbergasted, then he turned his gaze to his hammer and ran his fingers across the runes. “This was a title meant for me in another life. Standing at the forge is where I belong, not buried away in a throne room, bound by ceremony and convention. You’ll find me burdened under a crown and stuffed in ceremonial armor when the Wealth of King’s is found.” He finished with a hint of sarcasm.
“I thought that was lost ages ago?” Kyra questioned.
Al wrinkled his nose and tugged on his beard. “I like her, Lepkin, she’s smart. You better make sure you hold onto her.”
“Hold…” Kathair said slowly as he drew his brow together. Sudden realization must have dawned on him, for his brows shot up and he opened his mouth to speak, but Kyra beat him to it.
“No, Al, we are just friends, that’s all,” she said quickly.
Al looked them up and down and sniggered. “Right,” he said as he turned around and moved back toward the table.
Kathair and Kyra shared a glance before the young man spoke up.
“We are looking for a dwarven charm,” he said.
“What for?” Al asked as he retrieved his hammer, slid it into a special holster hanging from his belt, and then moved around the table to pull up a short sword.
“I am going to hunt a shade,” Kyra said bluntly.
Kathair shot her an angry look and shook his head.
Al looked up and set the blade on the table. “I’m sorry, dear, I think I misheard you. What did you say?”
“I need protection from a shade,” she repeated.
Al’s eyes shot open as wide as saucer plates. He looked to Kathair and shook his head. “Never mind, Lepkin, she may not be that smart after all.”
“It killed my mother,” Kyra said fiercely. “It now hunts me.”
Al screwed up his face and tugged on his beard. “It hunts you?”
Kathair stepped into the conversation then. “She’s already fought it once,” he said.
“And lived?!” Al cried out. He shook his head in disbelief. “Stonebubbles, what does it want with you?”
Kathair answered before Kyra could get a word in edgewise. “We don’t know. It seeks something. The masters at Kuldiga Academy are doing their best to help her, but it isn’t enough.”
Al took in a deep breath and then finally nodded. “I have something that will work. I made it myself, so I know the runes are done right. It doesn’t just protect from shades, but from all manner of dark creatures.” He turned around and started shuffling toward a door. “Wait there a moment.”
He returned after a couple of minutes with a silver amulet resting upon a strong chain. It seemed to glow in the firelight as the rectangular amulet twirled this way and that. Al held it up for them to see and then he offered it to Kyra.
“How much?” Kathair asked.
Al shook his head. “This one’s on me,” the dwarf replied solemnly.
Kyra smiled and reached out to take it. She grasped the chains with both hands and then slipped it over her head. She opened her mouth to thank Al, but as the amulet touched her breastbone, she felt a strange, tingling sensation run through her body. Her legs grew weak and her knees gave out.
Kathair was only barely able to catch her and help her back up to her feet. “Are you all right?”
Kyra couldn’t think straight. Her mind went foggy and her strength seemed to evaporate away as if she had none at all. The runes on the amulet glowed brightly.
Suddenly, something tugged at the back of her neck. She felt a sharp, momentary pain, and then the clouds seemed to dissipate from her mind and she breathed in short, quick breaths as her strength returned to her legs.
“Oh, deary, you should have told me about that,” Al said. He turned and put the amulet on the work table.
“Should have told you what?” Kathair asked.
“I’m afraid you can’t use this amulet,” Al said pointedly to Kyra.
“Why not? Tell me what happened!” Kathair shouted.
“Because,” Kyra began softly as she pushed Kathair away, “I am born of a vampire.”
Al nodded grimly. “As I said, any charm that works upon shades, works upon other creatures imbued with dark magic.” Al shook his head and sighed. “This charm works against shades, vampires, shadowfiends, and some demons. If you are even partly of vampire lineage, there is no way you can wear this.”
Kyra nodded and reached her hand up to touch her skin just below the neck where the collarbones meet. The area was sore and stung fiercely as she lightly brushed the pad of her finger against it.
“Let me see something,” Al said. He slipped the amulet around his neck and tied the now broken chain behind his head. “Go ahead and try to hit me with a spell.”
Kyra nodded, blinking her eyes and rubbing her left temple to massage away a headache. She extended her right hand and tried to send a small bolt of lightning from her finger. The spell leapt from her and darted out, but then fizzled to nothing in the air several feet away from the dwarf.
“Now try him,” Al instructed, pointing to Kathair.
“I’m not wearing an amulet,” Kathair pointed out.
Al nodded. “Keep it to a small jolt, don’t want to fry your friend,” Al said.
Kyra turned to Kathair and pointed her hand at him. The small tendril of blue electricity snaked out and bit into Kathair’s shoulder. The young man jumped and grabbed his shoulder.
“Ouch!” he cried out. He rubbed his arm and then pointed to Al. “Al, stand next to me,” Kathair said.
The dwarf shot him a curious look.
“Please,” Kathair pleaded.
Al shuffled over and stood next to Kathair.
“All right, Kyra, fire again,” Kathair said.
Kyra reluctantly took aim and fired. As it had when she cast the spel
l at Al before, the lightning lost its power a couple of feet before it struck Kathair.
“There, see?” Kathair said. “If I go with you, then I can wear the amulet. I will accompany you into the shade’s lair. We can defeat it together.”
Al shook his head. “Not so fast, Lepkin,” he said. Al moved across to stand beside Kyra. “Try it again,” he said.
“What?” Kathair shouted. “We already know she can hit me if you aren’t close to me.”
Al lifted a finger to his mouth and shushed Kathair.
Kyra cast the spell again, but this time nothing happened at all.
“As I thought,” Al said. “If the amulet is even close to you, it will prevent you from using magic.”
“Then I cannot use the amulet at all,” Kyra said somberly. She stepped away from Al, though whether she could actually feel the amulet’s power or was just afraid of it, she wasn’t sure.
“Then let me go,” Kathair said quickly.” We have the garunda blood. Give me the charm, and I will slay the shade.”
Kyra shook her head. “No, you will never survive,” she said. “It’s too powerful.”
“But if the charm prevents it from using magic, then I just have to stab it with some garunda blood on my sword. I can do it.”
Kyra shouted, “No!” She looked to Al for help. “I have seen the shade,” she told the dwarf. “It’s too fast for him.”
Al’s brows shot up. “Too fast for Lepkin?” he questioned. “That is something,” he said. “But, I don’t doubt it, shades are very dangerous creatures.”
“So what do we do now?” Kyra asked.
Al held up a finger and then hurried through the door once more. He came back less than a minute later with a wicked-looking crossbow in his hands. “This is an experimental weapon,” he said as he turned it to the side and presented it to Kyra. “It has three slots for the bolts. Each one has its own separate arms, string, and trigger.” Al held it up higher so Kyra could see it. It looked almost as if someone had sandwiched three crossbows together, and then set the three triggers in a row. “Behind the stock you pull on this metal handle to cock it. The downside is, you have to load three bolts at a time, because all three arms move with the single handle. However, you can fire the bolts separately, or together. Watch.”
