The Wizard's Gambit

by Kylie Betzner

  “The birds flew away,” he answered. “I liked the birds.”

  “I think we have bigger problems,” said Ajani. “Look.”

  The trees were moving. Before anyone could respond, the trees reached down with long green vines, wrapped themselves around their arms and legs, and pulled them all into the air. Mongrel was turned upside down as a vine took him by the ankle. He pulled out his sword and cut the vine, freeing himself, only to land on his head. When the world stopped spinning, he jumped to his feet and cut down his companions. The trees recoiled as though in pain, but they were moving closer, boxing them in.

  Grrargh pushed against them, but they were rooted to the ground and pushing back. Before long, there wasn’t even a gap wide enough for Tikaani to squeeze through.

  “We’re trapped!” she cried.

  “If only Bat’laxe waur haur,” Littlehammer moaned. “He’d be able tae gie us oot ay thes, easy.”

  “How so?” Ajani asked while trying to wedge the tip of her spear into the thin crack between the tree trunks. She achieved nothing more than getting her weapon stuck.

  “Ye daen’t knoo much abit dwarves, dae ye?” Littlehammer guessed.

  “If I did, I wouldn’t have to ask.” Ajani pried her spear out and turned to Mongrel. “What’s happening?”

  “Elves,” he hissed. “They’ve been hunting us.”

  “Why you specifically?”

  “I kind of, sort of, might have maimed their leader,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

  Ajani snorted. “Doesn’t sound very peaceable.”

  “Neither is this.” Mongrel sheathed his sword in exchange for his axe. “Everybody stand back.”

  “Sae yoo’re finally standin’ yer grund, eh?” Littlehammer smiled approvingly. “Guid fer ye, laddie. An’ Ah commend ye oan yer weapon ay choice.” She winked.

  “Don’t get too excited,” he told her, adjusting his grip on the handle. “I’m cutting us a path so we can escape.”

  He swung the axe into one of the trees, again and again until it teetered.

  “Grrargh, if you’d please.” Mongrel stepped aside, giving the ogre the necessary space to finish the job.

  With one hard push, Grrargh brought the tree down, creating a bridge for them to cross.

  “Come on,” Mongrel threw his axe over his shoulder and led his group over the fallen tree trunk and out of the trap. But Gwyn and his men were waiting for them just on the other side. Mongrel stopped barely a hair’s inch from the tip of an arrow. He followed the arrow to the bowman. He almost didn’t recognize him with the short hair, but there was no mistaking that sneer and those steely eyes, bright with detestation.

  “Laerilas,” he gasped.

  “No sudden moves, stray, or I end this now,” he warned. By the tone of his voice, Mongrel didn’t doubt he was anything but serious.

  “Come on, Laeri. You don’t have to do this.”

  “I said don’t move.” He pressed the tip of the arrow into Mongrel’s chest until the point pierced the fabric and poked into his skin. He gave Mongrel a cold, contemptuous glance. “This time I’ll do it. There’s no one to save you.”

  “So you do remember how we first met.” Mongrel forced a smile, but it went unreturned. Behind him, Ajani leveled her spear.

  “Give the command, and we fight our way out,” she said in a low voice. Littlehammer and Tikaani were also posed to strike. Grrargh popped his knuckles and balled his hands into fists. Mongrel shook his head. “We’re not fighting them.”

  “We have no other choice,” Ajani hissed between her teeth.

  “There is always another choice,” he said, though his certainty wavered as Gwyn stepped out from the shadows to join his men. The fury in his eyes was blazing, and his lips were turned downward into a hard frown. Mongrel knew he’d be hard-pressed to convince him to accept a peace treaty. But he had to try.

  “Well, I see the mutt has picked up a few more strays.” Gwyn smirked. “In case you forgot, forming allegiances is against the rules.”

  “You’re one to talk,” Mongrel replied, his voice sounding less confident than he liked. But confidence was hard to find at the pointy end of an arrow.

  “Yes, but I never planned on following that wizard’s silly rules,” Gwyn said. He pushed Laerilas aside and faced Mongrel directly. His blade touched the skin of Mongrel’s throat. “If I recall, a certain mongrel claimed he was going to keep things ‘friendly.’” He directed Mongrel’s gaze to his stump and said, “Certainly, you don’t find maiming another man friendly?”

  “You gave me little choice,” Mongrel said. “But you’re right. Violence only begets more violence. It doesn’t solve anything. This needs to stop. Let’s call a truce.”

  He offered Gwyn his hand.

  Gwyn stared at it and furrowed his brow.

  “In case you forgot, elves don’t shake hands,” he snarled. “And even if we did, I couldn’t. Nor would I ever return the gesture. You are nothing to me. Just a mongrel that’s strayed into a place he doesn’t belong. You should have fled when you had the chance. And now I’ve got you at last. But how should I do it? So many ways to skin a cat, they say, but what about a mongrel?” He turned to the woman behind him. “Tell me, Aerin, how would you kill this miserable human?”

  “There are no words to describe the pain and suffering I would inflict upon this pitiful creature,” she said, smiling.

  “That’s a good start,” Gwyn agreed. “Go on.”

  Mongrel shuddered as she continued.

  “First, I would take an arrow and jab out, not one, but both of his eyes. Then I would cut out his tongue and break all of his teeth. I’d prick him all over like a pincushion, but not enough to kill him, just enough to make him bleed. Then I’d slowly skin him alive. If he’s still breathing after that, I’d choke him to death using his own hand.”

  “That is gruesome,” said Gwyn after some pause. “There is a reason you’re still single, Aerin, my sweet.”

  “One more thing,” she added, staring hard at Mongrel. “Before the life leaves his body, I would jab my hand into his chest and squeeze the last beat out of his heart.”

  “Impressive,” said Gwyn. “We’ll do it your way. Tell me again where to start. I believe it was his eyes.”

  “Yes, my prince.” She reached for an arrow.

  “No, Aerin.” Gwyn stopped her, to Mongrel’s relief. “We’ll do it your way, but you’re not going to be the one to do it.”

  “What?”

  “You there.” He turned to Laerilas, who flinched in response. “Here’s your chance to redeem yourself. Take it.”

  “M-me?” he stuttered. “But I think Aerin could do it better.”

  “I know what Aerin is capable of,” Gwyn told him. “I want to see what you can do. Kill that human. Put an end to this farce and wipe clean your reputation once and for all.”

  “Yes, Gwyndor.” He stepped back into position and readied his aim. He paused a moment before pulling the bowstring back. Mongrel watched him closely. His expression was flat. There was not even a bead of sweat on his face. He was not at all conflicted by the task assigned to him. Mongrel searched his eyes for sympathy, for conflict, but found none.

  “Mongrel!” Littlehammer bellowed. Two elves held her back. Two more kept Ajani and Tikaani from coming to his aid. Grrargh was momentarily distracted by a bird’s nest. Otherwise, he’d be more than capable of taking down this group, but what did it matter? Mongrel saw no hope of peace when his own family was willing to put him down. He braced himself for the shot.

  “Hurry up, Laerilas,” Gwyn barked when he did not release the arrow. “Quit stalling and shoot him already.”

  “Yeah, just get it over with . . . if you’re going to do it.” Mongrel stared him down.

  Laerilas grunted as his arms strained against the tension of the bowstring. But he would not let go.

  “Do it now, or your place among the king’s guard will be forfeited,” Gwyn spoke into his ea
r. “And you can consider your engagement to my sister off.”

  Laerilas swallowed. Now Mongrel saw the tightness in his jaw.

  “Put the bow down. Let’s talk,” Mongrel said. “There can still be peace. It’s not too late.”

  “Silence, mutt,” Gwyn snapped at him and turned back to Laerilas. “Shoot him now, or I’ll let Aerin do it her way. Your choice.”

  Face bright with hungry anticipation, Aerin drew her blades.

  Laerilas inhaled slowly.

  Mongrel closed his eyes.

  “Fire now!”

  The arrow shot out with a zipping sound and the snap of the bowstring. Mongrel flinched but didn’t fall. He didn’t even feel it. A woman’s screams snapped him back to reality. He opened his eyes to find Aerin on the ground, an arrow protruding from her thigh. The elves all stared in stunned silence at Laerilas, who had finally released his arrow.

  Gwyn smirked. “Either that was the lousiest shot I’ve ever seen, or you are the greatest traitor our city has ever known. So which is it?”

  Laerilas didn’t answer, at least not with words; instead, he selected another arrow and shot it into Gwyn’s shoulder. The mighty elf prince fell to his knees, howling like a wounded animal.

  Mongrel looked from the arrow to the archer, too stunned for words. Before he could get the words out, Laerilas was preparing his next shot.

  “Run, Mongrel!” he said. “Get out of here!”

  “But Laerilas—”

  “Don’t worry about me. Just go!”

  “All these years, I never thought you—”

  “Now’s really not the time,” he said. “Go!”

  Without another word, Mongrel gathered his group, including Littlehammer, who was reluctant to flee a fight, and led them off. As promised, Laerilas covered their retreat. Littlehammer, all the while, argued that they should go back and fight. Mongrel, too, wanted to turn back, but not for the same reason.

  “What is it?” Ajani asked him when he stopped in his tracks half a mile away.

  “Laerilas is all alone back there,” he said.

  “So what?” Ajani asked him. “You can’t go back there; you’ll get yourself killed.”

  “If I don’t go back, they’ll kill him,” Mongrel replied, turning around. “Wait here. I’ll be just a moment. If I don’t return in ten minutes, go on without me.”

  “Mequssuk, no!” Tikaani threw her arms around his waist, anchoring him in place. She sobbed into his shirt. “Please don’t go. If you don’t come back, who’ll look after me?”

  “You’ll be all right,” Mongrel told her, prying her off. “But someone has to go back for Laerilas.”

  Littlehammer snorted. “It’s jist an elf.”

  “He’s my friend, no less than the rest of you,” he said, staring her down. “So I’m going back. Give me ten minutes. Ajani”—he clasped her shoulder—“look after them while I’m gone.”

  “Very well,” she said, shrugging him off. “In ten minutes, if you don’t come back, I take control of the group. You all heard him.”

  “Wait a second,” Littlehammer interjected. “How come she gits tae lead th’ group?”

  Mongrel shook his head. “I really don’t have time for this. I have to save Laerilas.” And without another word, Mongrel headed back toward the fight, with the sounds of his groups’ discontent chasing after. He only hoped he wasn’t too late.

  “Have you gone mad?” Gwyn watched in disbelief as Laerilas spent the last of his arrows covering Mongrel’s retreat. Laerilas ignored him, exchanging his bow for his blades as his fellow guardsmen drew theirs. He only yielded when he realized how sorely outnumbered he was.

  “Well, that was quite the show.” Gwyn’s voice was laced with acrimony as he stepped inside the circle to confront Laerilas. To the others, he said, “Stand back. Leave the traitor to me.”

  They stepped back and in two fluid motions, Gwyn had Laerilas disarmed and on his knees. His blade bit into his throat, so close a simple hiccup would be fatal. Laerilas shivered as Gywn spoke. “And here I thought you wanted to make something of yourself. You were so close to achieving the status a peasant like yourself can only dream of. You fool. What you’ve done is unforgiveable. Even I cannot pardon you, nor would I if I could. You will be properly punished.”

  Laerilas eyed the sword in his hand and gulped.

  “So, Laerilis, any final thoughts before we enact your punishment?”

  “Well . . .”

  Gwyn sighed. “Thought not.”

  Mongrel didn’t make it back until after the elves had left. He expected to find a dead body, but instead he found Laerilas still alive and in one piece. Without care for how the elf would respond, Mongrel closed in the distance between them and trapped him in a rib-shattering embrace. Laerilas accepted it stiffly though he did not return it. Hugging wasn’t a gesture his kind practiced. But even if they did, Laerilas would never have been much of a hugger. At the moment, Mongrel didn’t care.

  “What are you doing, you idiot?” Laerilas snarled, unpleasant as always. Thankfully for him, Mongrel was too relieved to be angry with him.

  “It’s called a hug,” he said.

  “No, you fool.” Laerilas broke away. “I mean what are you doing here?” I told you to run. Why did you come back? Are you that stupid?”

  “I came to save you. You’re welcome.”

  “Save me?” Laerilas lowered his gaze. “Why? I’ve never once counted you among my friends or even spared you a kind word. Why would you risk your life for me?”

  “Because like it or not, we’re family.” Mongrel placed his hand on Laerilas’ shoulder. “And that’s what family does for one another.”

  Laerilas looked up at Mongrel, his face blank. Slowly, he took on an expression Mongrel had never seen before. It was a smile, albeit a small one. And Mongrel was right: Laerilas was lovelier when he smiled.

  “You’re a fool, Mongrel,” he said, still smiling. “And for that I am grateful.”

  “I love you, too, Laeri.” Mongrel laughed and pulled him into another hug. This time Laerilas returned it half-heartedly, patting Mongrel lightly on the back before pulling away to brush out the wrinkles on his shirt.

  “So how are you still alive?” Mongrel asked him, glancing around. The others were gone, leaving behind two bodies, Laerilas’ arrows sticking out from both of them. Mongrel frowned. Two more deaths on his account. This had to end.

  “If only they had killed me.” Laerilas drooped. “Gwyndor’s enacted the worst punishment known to elf kind.”

  Mongrel looked him over. There wasn’t a cut, bruise, scrape, or burn on the man’s surface. What punishment could possibly be worse than death or painful disfigurement?

  “Pain of guilt?” Mongrel asked him.

  “No, you idiot! Banishment.”

  “Oh, I see.” Mongrel nodded. He knew all too well the pain of homelessness. He placed a hand on Laerilas’ shoulder. “It’s all right, my friend. You’ll always have a place with me.”

  That should have cheered him up, yet it caused the smile to drop from his face.

  “I don’t want your pitiful consolation; I want to go home,” he said. “And I would be able to if you hadn’t shown up here and put me in this predicament to start with.”

  “Me?” Mongrel stared at him in disbelief. “I didn’t ask you to go rogue on your team. You made that decision, not me. And if you had listened to your grandfather’s advice and just stayed clear of the royals in the first place, you never would have been in this predicament to start. So don’t blame me.”

  Laerilas was taken aback. Combined, neither of them could remember a time when Mongrel had spoken so boldly. Usually, he kept his mouth shut and just stayed out of Laerilas’ way.

  Mongrel only wished he’d spoken up sooner, because Laerilas conceded. “You’re right,” he said. “The choice was mine, and the consequences are mine to face. I could have avoided this whole mess if I’d just listened to reason. I had no business out here, an
d neither did you.” Now he offered Mongrel a sympathetic smile. “Poor Mongrel. You’ve never been where you were meant to be, and now I think I finally understand how you feel. Oh, but I do feel pathetic.”

  “Come on, Laeri. It’s not so bad.” Mongrel draped his arm around his shoulder and led him away. “At least now you’re free to do anything you want.”

  “I want to go home.”

  “Anything but that,” Mongrel corrected himself. “At least you won’t have to go through with the marriage. Don’t tell me you actually wanted to join the royal family?”

  “Not entirely,” he admitted. “There were perks, but I don’t suppose they were worth it to be a part of that household.”

  “There you go.” Mongrel nudged him playfully and kept walking.

  “So, now what do I do?” Laerilas asked him. “Where do I go from here?”

  “My offer still stands. You can always join my group.”

  “Might as well,” said Laerilas, not particularly enthused. “That is, if your companions won’t mind.”

  “Are you kidding? They’ll be more than pleased to welcome you aboard.”

  “Nae anither step closer!” Littlehammer warned. Poised with her hammer in hand, she was ready to strike. If that elf so much as tripped forward, she’d smash in his skull. Wouldn’t be so pretty, then would he? “Ah’m warnin’ ye!”

  The elf scowled at her. “I’ll take it that’s the standard dwarvish greeting. It’s no wonder your kind isn’t known for their manners.”

  Why that little—“Hoo daur ye insult me! Ah’ll—”

  “That’s enough introductions for now.” Mongrel steered the newcomer over to the campfire and pushed him into a seated position. There the elf sat staring morosely into the flames.

  Littlehammer bristled. He shouldn’t be here, not after what happened to Pickaxe. How could Mongrel cast such a blind eye on him when it was practically his fault? If that darn elf had just held still and let her kill him, Mongrel wouldn’t have had anything to fight her for, and therefore, Pick wouldn’t have gotten involved, so it was plain to see the elf was to blame.

  “Is he going to kill us in our sleep?” Tikaani scooted away from the campsite, as far as she could without sliding out of the firelight. She eyed the elf warily. Her hand reached for her amulet. Mongrel gave her a warning glance, and her hand dropped to her lap.