The Royals

Chapter 20

Walther jumped at the voice, eerily reminiscent of a dying man.

'Well, yes, certainly,' Abadan answered. 'But perhaps he is able to intercept-'

'Please, old friend, don't try to convince me with your magical musings. I'm too tired to follow the logic. Perhaps another day.' He pushed his chair back from the table. I think I'll go rest a bit.' Instead of retiring to his chambers, he remained seated and closed his eyes.

Walther felt as old and lost as Maarcus looked. Whether or not the two elders debated, the dwarf's fate wafted between them with no more self-direction than the train behind a royal robe.

It was time Walther spoke up to reclaim his des tiny. While sifting through the ashes of his village, he had sworn to find those who'd done such evil and avenge the victims. He had begun that journey only to let subsequent events distract him. Now that he knew there might yet be survivors, he needed to resurrect his oath and take on a further purpose. We have to save them."

'Save who?' Abadan asked.

'My village.'

The magician stared at him as if he'd sprouted a new and absurd - vision. 'Walther, they're dead. It's dreadful, I know, but '

No, you don't know. I assumed they were all gone, but in the back of my thoughts I realized there weren't enough bodies on the pyre. Ceeley was right. The elfwitch is doing something with them. We must rescue them!' He slammed his fist on the table.

'You're right. She is doing something with them,' said Abadan softly. 'We have suspected as much for months.'

'I think Zera knew but couldn't bear to speak it aloud,' said Maarcus, suddenly awake. 'She's converting them one by one into her army.'

'Are you out of your mind?' Walther asked.

Maarcus turned to gaze at him with rheumy eyes. He considered the question. 'No, I don't believe I am. However, you are an ill-mannered young dwarf.'

'My apologies, Sir Maarcus.' Why am I arguing with this man? he thought. His mind has wandered into a forest so deep no one can follow his tracks. 'With all due respect, sir, it seemed a ridiculous notion to me.'

'When you are as old as I am, you will find very little is as preposterous as it might first appear."

'Nonetheless …'

'Nonetheless, nothing.' His voice held no rancor, only complete assurance of his position.

Desperate not to lose the substance of the conversation, Walther turned to the magician. 'Master Abadan, you can't believe such an absurd idea. My people would never execute such treachery.'

Under ordinary circumstances, that's true.' He looked serious as he added, 'Need I remind you the elfwitch is a good deal more than extraordinary?'

Walther felt the blood rush to his face. She could t*****e them all, Sisters forbid, and they would not join her.' '

't*****e is only part of it,' Abadan said. His mouth twisted as if he'd eaten foul meat. We believe…' He swallowed and licked his lips.

'Now who's stalling?' Maarcus asked him. The dwarf didn't understand the reference. In the phy sician's current state, it could have been something that happened this morning, last year, or a generation ago.

"We think the elfwitch is transforming her prisoners into trolls.' His voice rose above Walther's protests and echoed throughout the room. 'I do not make such state ments lightly. Never, never underestimate the elfwitch.'

Walther glanced at the physician, who was idly draw. ing patterns on the table with his fork. 'How can you sit there scribbling, Sir Maarcus? Aren't you terribly bothered by this?' It was a petty jab, he knew, but the enormity of the elfwitch's deeds had reduced him to less than a mere man.

'Being troubled robs me of what little I have left to fight her with.'

He seemed to be separating into two men. Where the first grew ever more unflinchingly clear-eyed and plain-spoken, the second meandered between whimsical notions and their fanciful explanations.

'If what you say is true, this does not change my intent. It only makes it all the more urgent that I rescue them before it's too late.'

Abadan reached out and put a hand on his shoulder. "Walther, if she has them, it is too late. Of this we are sure.'

'No.' The dwarf shook his head in vigorous denial. 'No, I won't accept that.' Maarcus

"There's nothing you can do to save them,' Maarcus sounded like catastrophe itself given voice. 'You can only fight to prevent it from happening to others.'

'I will not relegate them to such a walking death. They can be saved and I will find a way!'

'Perhaps you will, Walther. But it will cost you all you have and more.' Maarcus did not face the dwarf as he spoke but rather stared into a future only he could perceive.

'I will gladly offer up everything for them - just as they would for me.' Walther spoke boldly, but he was no fool. The Shortdwarfs had a talent for stumbling across prophecies as if they were so many stray boulders strewn about the Ash Kingdom. Like its brothers, this prediction might well change the dwarf's path, but it would not protect him from the deadly wound-snake hiding beneath the rock.

'Are you sure?'

'I have no doubts about myself.' That I am willing to speak aloud at any rate, he finished silently.

Sir Maarcus turned his watery eyes to Walther. 'Do not forget that any prisoners who still live do so because they have already yielded to Alvaria. There will be nothing left for them to give you, no way for them to aid their own release.'

Ceeley did her best to keep her spirits up. She noticed that Mama-Lyda and Papa-Wil didn't frown so much when she pretended to treat the long, hard trip like another grand adventure. When they were happy, she didn't have to think about the horror of her six-year birthday party.

She just wished her dreams would behave too.

Ceeley began to wonder about her choice of guardians once they got above the tree-line. Mama-Lyda seemed sad and confused. What if she couldn't shepherd their way across the mountain? They would all be lost. For ever.

She would never have a chance to make something beautiful to pass down to her children and her children's children. It would be as if she never lived, for a dwarf measures her life by what she can build out of Sister-given creation. Her dada told her so the day she turned six at their private family celebration before the big party. Before the witch ruined everything.

Curse that elfwitch, curse her! Ceeley thought. She didn't want to ruminate, but she couldn't help it. It was better to look in toward her memories than out toward the icy landscape. When she saw the snowy cold mountain tops, she couldn't stay cheerful - and Mama-Lyda needed her to try hard. She didn't say anything, but Ceeley could tell. Mama-Lyda's face was creased with lines that got deeper and deeper the farther they walked.

She snuck a peek at Papa-Willam. Something bothered him and that worried her. Sometimes he walked as if he'd been hurt and the pain never quite went away. She didn't think his body ached; she thought it was in his heart. Prob'ly something bad had happened to him.

She wasn't sure she wanted to know what it was.

Oh, she liked him fine and she trusted him all right. She knew what she was doing when she chose him to be her papa. But she couldn't bring herself to find out what was eating at him. She was too afraid it might be worse than what she'd already seen from the elfwitch, and then where would she be? Swimming in nightmares day and night. There's only so much a six-year-old can take, after all.

She felt like stamping her feet and having a tantrum. Her mama said she was too old for tantrums and maybe she was right. Mama never really understood, though.

Tantrums were just like thunderstorms. They built and built and then they broke. Later the air got clear and easier to breathe. Tantrums did the same thing. Afterwards her blood stopped pounding in her head and she could think again.

She supposed she wouldn't get to have tantrums when she grew up. It's very silly for big people to stamp their feet and scream. She imagined she'd miss them, though, and she wondered if she'd be able to think as well without a sporadic squall.

Right now wasn't the time for one anyhow. She was too tired. She was used to hiking on rounded, gentler hills. These were sharp and craggy. And the trees, she missed the trees. Green leaves in winter made her smile. There was always something to watch in a forest - a bird flitting from branch to branch, a squirrel nibbling on nuts. Chirps and barks filled the air and made a dwarf forget her troubles. Dada said that too.