Magic Astray (The Llandra Saga) (19 page)

"What?" he spat, spinning to face her and puffing out his chest.

"I am not your enemy, Randall," she reminded him gently. He took a step backwards and nodded sullenly, crossing his arms across his chest and looking away.

"We will not find our companions by staying here," she continued. "The best we can do is to continue our explorations and hope to run across them or the dwarves. If we find the dwarves first, they will know these tunnels. They can help us."

Randall blew out the air he had been holding, and his chest deflated. He met Nia's gaze, and his eyes shimmered with held back tears. "I just hope he's ok," he said.

"As do I," Nia replied. "Come, let us look for them together," she said, taking Randall's hand and leading him down the hallway.

Chapter 19

Without the sun overhead to mark the passage of time, it was hard to judge how long they searched the tunnels. Judging by how his stomach gnawed at his insides, he guessed they had finished the last of their food about two days ago. Whenever they grew tired, they simply stopped where they were, each taking a turn watching the tunnels while the other napped. Fortunately, they didn't spot any more of the giant centipede-looking creatures, but neither did they run into Berry or Hunter.

Randall was concerned for his little friend, but he was beginning to become more concerned about escaping the tunnels alive. It was impossible to retrace their steps, and if they didn't find the dwarves soon, they would certainly perish without access to food and fresh water.

He looked down at Nia's face as she slept. She hadn't complained once since escaping the insect horrors, but he knew that she was just as worried about their chances as he was. In slumber, she looked so sweet and innocent—a far cry from the hardened warrior that he had come to know her to be. Perhaps it was because she looked so much younger than she was.

He felt a wave of regret wash over him. If they were to die down here...if she were to die down here, it would be his fault. He had become so accustomed to doing things his own way, never once considering his actions would have any consequences for anyone else. Now, Berry and Hunter were lost, Eamon had been gravely wounded at Horsehead Tower, and he and Nia might die down in these gods forsaken tunnels. And it was all his fault.

He reached down and brushed a lock of hair away from her face from where it had gotten stuck to her chapped lips. Hungry as they were, they would die of thirst first, he mused, tears welling up at the corners of his eyes.

The motion caused her to stir and she groggily opened her eyes. "What is it?" she asked.

She searched his face carefully when he didn't speak, and her face softened in sympathy. "Do not worry so, Randall. We will find the dwarves, and your friend. Do not give up hope now."

Randall nodded, rubbing the moisture from his eyes with the sleeve of his tunic.

"I was dreaming," she continued. "We were back at Horsehead Tower, having dinner, but the blacksmith was in a corner of the room, hammering away at his anvil. So we left to go to the practice yard, but he was there too. No matter where we went, the blacksmith was there, and I was sneezing and sneezing, but we just couldn't get away."

Randall smiled a little at her description, but the humorous image did little to wipe away his melancholy.

"Dreams are funny things," she said. "I could smell the blacksmith's coal fires burning, even as I woke up."

She took a deep breath, and froze. Suddenly, she jumped up and sped down the hallway.

"Wait! Where are you going?" Randall called out, scrambling to his feet.

"Stay there. You're ripe, and I need some fresh air," she called back as she continued down the tunnel, taking their only light source with her.

"But...it's dark," he said lamely, more to himself than to her retreating back.

A few moments later she returned, buzzing with excitement. "I did smell a blacksmith!" she exclaimed. "Though I'm not sure how I smelled it over your stench. We could both use a bath," she concluded, eyeing their stained and grimy clothing.

"You smelled a blacksmith?" Randall asked. "Down here?"

"Yes, and that can only mean one thing," she said. "So, come on."

"Dwarves," Randall said, following Nia down the hallway. He wasn't entirely sure he believed her. He didn't smell anything. He wasn't sure what being down in the tunnels without food or water would do to an elf. Perhaps she was delirious. But since they had to press on anyway, there was no point in arguing about it.

After they had gone nearly a hundred yards, Randall smelled it too: the stench of coal and hot iron. The dwarves had to be near, and he found himself quickening his pace in his excitement. A hundred yards later, and they didn't seem to be any closer to the source of the odor.

Every time they came to a fork or side path, they would pick the one with the stronger smell, though they often had to backtrack and choose again whenever the odor seemed to be diminishing. Soon, Nia began sneezing, though she waved off any attempt at stopping and catching her breath. She was as desperate to find the dwarves as he was.

Eventually, they came to a side passage that had been bricked up with large slabs of granite. Hot air streamed out of a large, sooty crack in the mortar. Randall put his face near the crack and breathed in deeply, coughing as the scent of burning coal filled his lungs. Randall cursed and slammed the palm of his hand against the wall. They would have to find another way around.

Nia hit her hand against the wall, too, again and again. Randall tried to pull her away, but she snatched her arm back from him with a look of wild desperation on her face.

"They have to be just on the other side," she pleaded. "Help me get their attention."

Pulling out her sword, she began banging the pommel against the wall and shouting, stopping to cough and sneeze whenever a fresh gust of air would blow in from the crack. Randall joined in, banging his own dagger against the wall.

After a few minutes, Nia put her hand on Randall's arm, stopping his efforts. "Shhh," she said quietly.

Someone was banging on the other side of the wall. Randall broke into a huge grin, and swept Nia up in a tight hug before he realized what he was doing, and she hugged him back fiercely. After a moment, he started to take notice of her various...parts pressed firmly against him, and he stepped back, blushing furiously. She grinned at him mischievously when she noticed his discomfort.

After a moment the clamor on the other side of the wall ceased, and a voice called out "Hey, who's dat banging on my wall?" It sounded very far away.

"We're lost in the tunnels. Can you help us?" Randall yelled back.

"Oy, go get Tog and tell him to bring a couple of his masons with him to bust down this wall," the voice said, speaking to someone on the other side. "Keep yer pants on. It'll be a minute," the voice called back over.

"What's going on?" Nia asked, tugging at Randall's sleeve excitedly. "I don't speak Dwarvish."

"I don't either," Randall started to say before realizing that he and the unseen man on the other side of the wall had been doing exactly that. "Oh, uh, right. They're going to get some masons and break down the wall," he explained. "It may be a minute."

Nia squealed with delight at the news, and before Randall could react, she grabbed him by either side of the face and planted a large wet kiss on his lips.

"Randall Miller, you are amazing," she said.

"Well, I, uh, didn't really do anything," he protested as the blood rushed to his face.

"Nonsense," she said, sitting down to wait. "You've saved us," she proclaimed, as if he had anything to do with it.

Randall shook his head ruefully as she began humming and picking the dirt out from under her fingernails with the point of her sword. Shrugging, he sat down to join her. Now, all they could do was wait.

The tunnel began reverberating with the sounds of hammer-blows several long minutes later. Randall imagined there must be a team of dwarves armed with chisels digging their way through the wall. Eventually, another large crack appeared in the mortar, bringing even more of the smell of the forge into the space where Nia and Randall sat and causing the elf to break into a fresh round of sneezes.

It took the better part of an hour for the dwarves to weaken the wall enough to pull out one of the granite blocks. The large block finally cleared the wall and fell heavily on the other side with a loud thud. Light poured into the tunnel, causing Randall to shield his eyes with his hand as he peered into the hole. Facing him was a short, wrinkled man with wild red hair and a coal-smudged face.

"A man? And an elf?" he exclaimed incredulously. "I thought you were one of ours. What're you doin' skulkin' about in the old tunnels? Bah, no matter. Climb on through. There'll be plenty of time for questions later."

Thanking the dwarf profusely, Randall helped Nia through the hole before taking the dwarf's offered hand. She tried to say something as he squeezed himself through the hole, but was cut short by a coughing fit.

Randall slid out on the other side, and glanced around. The room had a large forge in one corner, with a big iron pipe leading up into the ceiling. A huge bellows was connected on one side, and he had a hard time imagining the short man working the contraption.

On the other side of the room, crowding the only visible exit, were a half-dozen armed dwarves in metal-plate armor. Broad-shouldered and stout-legged, they looked at the pair of travelers menacingly.

"Best come with us peacefully," the lead soldier ordered. "King Rodick will want a word with you."

Chapter 20

"Well, at least they gave us bread and water," Randall mused, washing down the dry meal with a large swallow from the metal cup they had been provided.

"Yes, but how long do you suppose they will hold us here?" Nia asked, tugging on the metal bars of their cell. "We have lost too much time already."

"You're right," he answered, dusting the crumbs off his pants legs and standing up. The meal had done wonders to restore his energy, and he eyed the bars purposefully.

"I don't really know any magic that will get us out. All my runes are useless. That is, unless you want me to make the bars stronger," Randall snorted ruefully.

"How about your Mage fire?" Nia asked hopefully. "I have seen you call forth flames from thin air."

"That spell only lasts for a moment," he explained. "I don't think I can hold it long enough to melt the bars, though I suppose it can't hurt to try."

Closing his eyes, he saw the bright pinpoint of light in his mind that was his connection to Llandra. As the power filled him, he breathed the spell that would call forth the flames, pushing the magic into it and willing the fire into a pencil-thin jet of white-hot fire. Opening his eyes, he held the diminutive flame in place as long as he could. Seconds later, the fire winked out of existence, leaving Randall panting and sweating.

"That's about all I have," he gasped.

Seconds later, the door to his cell burst open and a group of dwarves rushed into the chamber, manhandling Randall to the floor. They trussed him up quickly, forcing a rough woolen cloth into his mouth before securing it in place with another wrapped around his head.

"Make sure you have 'em well bound," one of the dwarves instructed. "Rodick would have my head if he knew I'd left a Mage down here unguarded. Tie up the elf while you're at it. Just in case."

Randall tried to struggle as the dwarves threw Nia to the ground and subjected her to the same rough treatment he had just experienced. But it was a futile effort; what the dwarves lacked in height, they more than made up for in strength. Back home in Geldorn, Bobby's family had owned a squat, wrinkled bulldog named Pup, and the little dog could nearly rip your arm out of its socket in a game of tug-of-war. Randall was reminded of the animal whenever he looked at the dwarves. They were just like Pup, only bulldogs didn't wear armor.

The guards hastily lifted them up and carried them through several halls and passageways before dumping them unceremoniously into a large room. All the guards withdrew, save one. He bowed deeply before speaking.

“The prisoners, as you requested, Your Majesty.”

While the elven chief’s home had been simple, the dwarven king’s chamber was extravagant. The walls, floor and ceiling were exquisitely decorated. Nearly every square inch of stone was engraved with delicate knot-work, and the stone chairs lining the sides of the great room were adorned with large gems of nearly every color imaginable.

King Rodick’s throne was perhaps the most opulent item in the room. It appeared to be carved from a single block of jade, inlaid with silver and gold filigree, and more gemstones than Randall could count. The stories his grandmother had told him described the dwarves as a simple, salt-of-the-earth people who valued hard work over fame and riches. Whoever had composed those stories had obviously never seen this chamber.

King Rodick was garbed in a rich brown and gold outfit, embroidered with ornate designs. He wore an elaborate gold crown, as bedecked with jewels as everything else in this room. Standing beside the throne was another dwarf, old and wizened. He was more simply dressed, though the rich purple robe he wore was adorned with silver embroidery.

The king leaned forward and gazed at the prisoners thoughtfully. “I am King Rodick,” he announced, though with a heavy dwarven accent. “To my right is Dask, the Court Mage. He will ensure that our dealings remain polite, and also free of the influence of your glamour,
skok-vana
.”

The last words were said with a sneer. Randall roughly translated them to mean “forest dweller”.

“Untie them,” Rodick ordered, leaning back in his throne.

The guard leaned down and hissed in Randall’s ear. “You will address King Rodick as ‘Your Majesty’ or ‘sire’, or I will split your gizzard where you stand. Do you understand?”

Randall nodded mutely, and the guard released him from his bonds and roughly pulled him to his feet. He repeated the same warning with Nia before untying her and pulling her upright.