by Kay L. Ling
The morning air was cool and fresh. A light breeze stirred her chestnut waves, and she ran a hand over her head. Good thing no one could see her. First thing in the morning she always looked like the Medusa.
With her attention drawn to the wild and foreign landscape, she almost forgot she needed the outhouse. Knee-high field grasses covered rolling hills dotted with rocky outcroppings. The rocks were distinctive, with wide veins of green minerals. Clusters of white wild flowers grew between them in the crevices. A tall ornamental weed known as “strath” rose above the field grasses, and despite being a weed, it was fragrant and beautiful with sprays of greenish-yellow flowers drooping from its tips. She loved its spicy scent.
Folding her arms over her chest, she breathed deeply and smiled. Elias had laughed when she gathered a bouquet of strath, but its flowers reminded her that long ago all of Shadow had been green and healthy, and someday, plants and flowers would flourish everywhere again.
The call of nature finally became more urgent than her study of nature. She used the outhouse and then crawled up onto a large flat rock to daydream while she watched strath ripple in the wind.
The last few weeks had been frightening but amazing. Once she’d decided to help the gnomes, she’d found herself caught up in unbelievable adventures. Truly, things too incredible to believe could be real. Her gem powers had blossomed, she had helped Jules escape a century-long enchantment, and she had met her infamous great-great grandfather. Together they had defeated the Queen of Shadow. It sounded like a fairy tale, complete with a happy ending. But the ending was just the beginning.
Shadow faced so many problems, and the gnomes were counting on them to find solutions. Sheamathan had mistreated and enslaved the gnomes, forcing them into hiding, and they had lost touch with all but the nearest clans. S had created blights and droughts that had destroyed much of the gnomes’ woodland environment, and created unnatural predators that roamed the land. Now, the gnomes were free of her, but her monsters remained, and the breghlin, rather like monsters themselves, were still a threat. The gnomes needed to make peace with the breghlin, kill S’s monsters, and raise crops and animals on barren, infertile land. It all sounded so hopeless.
Raenihel’s clan didn’t know much about their world or their history. And now they were too busy dealing with their day-to-day needs to care about the past. But history was important. Especially now that they were free. It would be useful to know how their ancestors had lived before they went into hiding. What had gnome culture been like? What traditions had they observed?
Overhead, a bird screeched shrilly, pulling her from her thoughts. She arched her back and stretched, looking up at the sky. The bird looked like one from home, a crow or something similar. According to Elias, some species of plants and animals were identical to ones from home, and others were totally unique to Shadow.
She slid off the rock. Were the men up yet? She was ready for a cup of coffee. Elias had been almost giddy when she handed him a five-pound bag of beans. For ages, he’d had nothing but roasted raaka root, and while it wasn’t half-bad, it couldn’t compare to freshly ground coffee.
She found Elias by the fire, his back to her, humming cheerfully as he ground coffee beans with his hand-cranked mill. Jules lay on a pile of animal skins, a green woven cloth over him. He opened his eyes and started to stretch, then froze when he saw her. His eyes passed over her, taking in her tumbled waves, T-shirt, and bare legs, and even in the dim light, she could see the color rise to his face, but he didn’t look away. Women’s underwear in the 1800s covered a lot more than her T-shirt did, and for an instant she felt oddly self-conscious.
“Good morning,” she said quietly, and walked by him to get her hairbrush.
By the time she’d combed her hair and dressed, Jules had gone outside and Elias was brewing coffee. She helped Elias fix a quick breakfast of diced turnips and potatoes sautéed with mushrooms and local herbs. It smelled heavenly, and she realized how hungry she was when they all sat down around the fire and Elias began to serve them.
While they ate, Elias discussed their goals, mostly for her benefit since he and Jules had been through all of this during the week.
“We need to set up a gnome government with Shadowglade as its base,” Elias said, pouring himself a second cup of coffee from the tin pot. “If the gnomes organize, they can more effectively help one another and control the breghlin. Even before making a thorough search, we’ve found useful supplies in the castle. Preserved foods, beer, wine, and fialazza. Tools and farming equipment. We need to get these resources into the gnomes’ hands, but we’ll need their help to do it.” He seemed to be looking forward to giving away S’s supplies, and Lana couldn’t blame him. Elias blew on his coffee and took a sip. “Unfortunately, gnomes want nothing to do with a structured government. They’re content with a clan leader, and a couple emissaries to deal with neighboring clans.”
“They’re set in their ways,” Jules said to Lana.
Elias grimaced. “That’s putting it politely.”
“How many gnomes have you talked to?” Lana asked. They lived in hidden communities called Safe Havens, and even if Elias knew where the Safe Havens were, he might not be welcome. Most gnomes didn’t trust Elias, and with good reason. He had been a welcome guest at Shadowglade and had a reputation for using dark powers. And long ago, while studying Dark gems, he had used some of their ancestors as test subjects. After S’s defeat, their opinion of him had begun to change, but many were still wary of him.
Elias said defensively, “Some of the gnomes near Strathweed have always traded with me, and thanks to you, I’m now on speaking terms with most of Raenihel’s clan. I think the gnomes are starting to trust and respect me. I’ve been able to speak to quite a few.”
“Jules might have better luck getting through to them. After all, he used to be their legendary Challenger.”
Elias looked away. “It’s the message not the messenger that’s the problem.”
She hadn’t meant to hurt his feelings. But Jules had a couple things going for him, and one was, unlike Elias, he didn’t look like a breghlin. She decided to drop the subject before she offended him further. “I can’t imagine living like the gnomes—cooped up inside caves and trees. The ones I’ve seen have had decent clothes and looked well-fed, but where have they been getting things they need?”
“Gnomes have cottage industries, but living in hiding does make that difficult,” Elias told her. “Some things, like metalsmithing and pottery making, can’t be done inside trees. And if breghlin find outside structures, they steal the contents, tear down the structures, and carry off the lumber and stones.”
“If the breghlin tore down my building, they’d live to regret it,” Lana said darkly.
Jules said, “Same here. They’d be sorry if they touched anything of mine.”
It seemed cowardly to put up with it and rebuild elsewhere. “From what I’ve heard, the gnomes hardly ever fight back.”
“If they had a chance of winning, they’d fight,” Elias said, coming to their defense. “But until recently, they were at a great disadvantage. S supplied the breghlin with weapons, and sometimes she used gem powers to help them.”
Jules loaded more food onto his plate. “Good point. S had only to show up and paralyze the gnomes, and the battle would be over.”
“Well, now that S is gone, the balance of power has changed. The gnomes have a chance to win,” Lana said.
“We hope this will be a nonviolent revolution. The gnomes are more intelligent than the breghlin, and if they unite, they should be able to rule Shadow and make it a better place for both races.”
“The breghlin will back down and let them rule?”
“Not right away,” Jules said through a mouthful of potatoes. “They hate the gnomes and have terrorized them for generation, but we have gem powers and we’re supporting the gnomes, so that should help.”
“True, and breghlin are afraid of gem powers,” she said. “You could r
ound up misbehavers and make examples of them. The rest would think twice after that.”
Elias’s expression suggested he’d enjoy that.
She set down her mug. “The breghlin should have their own government. They need order and discipline, and that might help.”
Both men looked at her as if she’d lost her mind.
“A breghlin government,” Elias said. “You can’t be serious.”
“Sure, channel their violence into politics—let them fight each other. Hey, it works in our world.”
Jules laughed. “She has a point, Elias. With all the infighting, they’d be too busy to bother the gnomes.”
“If the gnomes, an intelligent race, want no part of an organized government, how do you propose to create a government run by savages?” Elias asked her.
“Breghlin are violent and totally unprincipled. I get that. The only reason they followed S’s orders was because they were afraid of her. So, yes, it would be hard to create laws they’d follow, and harder still to find responsible leaders, but we should try.”
“Leaders should discourage idleness and violence. Unfortunately, the breghlin admire those traits,” Elias said drily.
“We’d have our work cut out for us,” Lana agreed. She threw a scrap of burned potato onto the hot stones. “The breghlin have a messed-up value system and no sense of self-worth.”
“Since you’re their champion, we’ll put you in charge of the Ministry of Breghlin Affairs,” Elias said, winking at her.
Teasing her about the breghlin only made her all the more determined to help them. “Look, they’re not completely stupid. They have a third-grade vocabulary and they can’t read, but if you show them how to do things, they seem to catch on. You said S taught them to manufacture goods, and they’ve been doing all the upkeep on Shadowglade. I think they have untapped potential.”
Elias and Jules exchanged glances and Elias muttered, “Silk purse.”
Jules replied under his breath, “Sow’s ear.”
She folded her arms and glared at them. She might not be a literary genius but she knew that phrase. “You’re wrong. We can make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear. Wait and see.”
They didn’t answer, but it was clear they thought her confidence in the breghlin was misplaced.
She frowned. “All right, I’ll open the Ministry of Breghlin Affairs and prove it. All breghlin aren’t monsters. Actually, I have a few sow’s ears—I mean staff members—in mind.”
Elias gave Jules a what-have-we-done look. “I applaud your efforts, Lana. If you can tame the breghlin, the gnomes will benefit. And naturally, so would the breghlin.”
She fell silent, chasing bits of turnip around her plate. Elias wanted to throw around idioms like “can’t make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear.” Well, she had one for him: “the pot calling the kettle black.” When was the last time he looked in a mirror? His warty, toad-like skin and deformed features had developed by giving in to greed and selfishness and had gotten worse when he used dark gem powers. Another idiom came to mind: “You can’t tell a book by its cover.” Well, here in Shadow, you really could because your true nature eventually showed on the outside.
“Well,” Elias said at last, perhaps unnerved by her sullen silence, “I’ll finish putting away our new gems. I have secret caches where I keep the rare ones. Jules, perhaps you would like to help me.”
“Certainly.” Jules rose with amazing speed.
Cowards. They knew she was annoyed. “While you’re doing that, would you like me to do the dishes?”
“That would be very kind of you,” Elias said, his tone carefully polite. “I’m a dreadful housekeeper—or should I say cavekeeper.” He chuckled at his own wit. “In fact, I have many faults, but I’m sure you’ll reform me.”
She gave him a dubious look. “Sow’s ear,” she said, and tried not to smile at the startled look on his face.
Chapter 6
Lana set to work as soon as the men were gone. If they thought she’d do housework—er, cavework—routinely, they were mistaken, but right now it was a good way to let off steam.
Elias believed the breghlin were inherently savage and incapable of becoming more like gnomes. Yes, they were violent and cruel, but after speaking with a few in the dungeon and the mining camp, she understood why. They had been forced to serve S, and despite being rather dim-witted, they knew she despised them. She had given them demeaning one or two letter “names”—a step above calling them “you” or “breghlin,” and the only reason they had names at all was to identify which ones to punish. S berated them and used physical violence or dark gem powers to keep them in line. She tolerated, perhaps even encouraged, their violence, finding their cruelty entertaining. It was no wonder breghlin had no social codes or laws, and as far as Lana could tell, little conscience.
Lana finished washing the dishes, stacked them on the wheeled stand, and looked around for a broom. Finding one along the wall, she began to sweep with a little more force than necessary.
Long ago, the breghlin had been gnomes, but evil had physically altered them, and then Sheamathan had turned their deformities into genetic mutations. The breghlin were like malformed, dim-witted children, and Sheamathan was their abusive foster mother. Few people would see it that way, she supposed. She had always been sensitive to others’ feelings, even as a child. Jules said her depth of emotion amplified her gem powers. It seemed farfetched, but maybe he was right. She could be strong one moment and so emotional that she cried over things the next. She hated it, but that was just the way she was.
Elias and Jules entered and stopped short, probably intimidated by the broom in her hands and the fierce look on her face.
“What,” she said, stopping in mid-sweep.
“Nothing. Nothing at all,” Elias answered hastily. “Whenever you’re ready, we’ll take another look at the spell book.”
They had only seen a few pages in the throne room. Today they would go through the entire book. She set the broom aside. “I’m ready.”
The book had been silent all day. Last night, its threats, insults, and complaints had worn on their nerves, and Jules had threatened to throw it into the underground stream. She couldn’t blame him. One more complaint about its binding being ruined by the damp cave and she would have screamed.
Elias retrieved the book while Jules drew three chairs together. Lana felt a mixture of curiosity and dread. The ominous words echoed in her head: “ommort mirkstone activated.”
Elias sat down in the middle so they could both look on. Bypassing the first two pages, he went straight to the page that read: Ommort Mirkstone. The following pages were blank, as were the next . . . and the next. Muttering under his breath, Elias flipped through more blank pages before coming to one that showed a group of pythanium. More blank pages followed, and then a map, but it had no place names—no text at all.
“What is going on here?” Elias growled.
Lana wondered the same thing. Except for the words Ommort Mirkstone, they hadn’t found any printed words.
Jules said, “We should have left the book at Shadowglade. What good is a spell book without spells?”
“Could the ommort have done this?” Lana asked.
“I believe so,” Elias said, frowning. “As the pages were flipping, I think the text was disappearing.”
“Just so, you vile thieves! And it serves you right!” the book cried.
Lana gave a startled squeak. “I wish it would stop doing that!”
“You should have left me at Shadowglade. I am of no use to you.”
“You’d make wonderful kindling,” Jules said, and his fingers twitched as if anxious to yank out some pages.
The book let out a gloomy sigh. “Five centuries I have existed, and now you threaten me with such an inglorious end. If my mistress were here, she would—”
“Oh, shut up,” Jules snapped.
They all studied the map for a moment and Jules said, “We could ask the gnomes about this ma
p, but they don’t travel much, so I doubt they’d be much help.”
“Does anything look familiar?” Lana asked.
Elias shook his head. “This map shows many roads, and to the best of my knowledge, there are only a few these days, and they all lead to mines. And there are no sizeable towns and villages, much less lakes and mountains anywhere around here.”
“Have you traveled much over the years?” she asked.
Elias rubbed his face wearily. “When I first came to Shadow, the gnomes took me a few places to study gems, and we Walked With The Wind, as they call it, but since we needed to stay in the forest we couldn’t go far. Once my relationship with the gnomes deteriorated, I was limited to walking, and I didn’t want to venture too far alone. So, no, I haven’t traveled much at all.”
“Since your knowledge of Shadow is limited, there could be lakes and mountains. You just haven’t seen any.”
“Possibly,” Elias said with a shrug. “Franklin flew great distances when he was a bird, and he reported seeing forests and desert-like lands, breghlin communities, and a few mining operations, but he never mentioned lakes or mountains.”
“The lakes could have dried up since the map was drawn,” Lana suggested.
“Maybe so. It seldom rains here, and S used droughts and blights to systematically destroy tracts of forest so the gnomes would have to cross open land, risking capture, if they hoped to go very far. But if there are any mountains, they must be a long way from here.”
Jules looked up from the map. “So, either S drew the map herself, or gnomes made it a long time ago. How old is Sheamathan?”
“Close to three hundred years old. If one can believe anything she says.”
“If the book is as old as it claims,” Lana said slowly, “I wonder who owned it before her.”
“Let’s ask,” Jules said.
Lana doubted the book would cooperate, but it couldn’t hurt to try.
