The Woods Out Back (Spearwielder's Tale #1) 7

They traveled easily over the next couple of days, though Kelsey set a swift pace and only stopped for camp long after sunset, and had them on the trail again before the dawn. After the battle of Cowtangle Wood, Gary offered no arguments against the elf's haste; Mickey, of course, kept up his steady stream of under-the-breath remarks every step of the way.

The journey to the foothills crossed rolling but not broken land, and after the initial soreness of the unfamiliar armor had worn off, Gary found that he could get along quite well in the bulky suit.

Then they came to Dvergamal.

Sheer and jagged, bare and bony-hard, the mountains seemed a barrier that no man could hope to pass. Cliffs rose up a thousand feet; gullies beyond them dropped a thousand more than that, and all the way seemed a confusing crisscross of narrow and perilous trails. Kelsey seemed confident enough of his steps as he found a path and started up. Mickey, just a leprechaun's stride behind, never even took his eyes off The Hobbit.

Truly Gary felt embarrassed at his own fears, and that gave him the courage to fall in line. Each step out, crossing deep ravines, winding along the sides of mountains, did little to bolster his confidence, though, and he continually found himself wondering how much a suit of mail might cushion so long a fall.

Where Kelsey skipped, Mickey rambled absently and Gary crawled. Short climbs which the elf took with a single leap, grab, and twist, and Mickey by simply floating up, Gary had to be threatened, then hauled and levitated, just to get over.

And all the while for poor Gary loomed death-promising drops, drops that grew ever deeper as the small troupe wound its way ever higher into Dvergamal. Sometimes their trail was open to both sides, sheer drops, left and right. Other times they disappeared into impossibly narrow crevices, twenty feet deep and barely a few feet wide and bordered by high walls of sharp stone.

That first night in the mountains, they camped out in the open (for lack of choice), on the side of a mountain where the ledge was at its widest, and this being only about five feet. The stiff wind bit at them, foiled any fire-making attempts, and threatened to push them over the edge if they did not take care.

When the sky mercifully lightened and Kelsey led them off, Gary's eyes showed the dark rings of a sleepless night.

"Set the pace a might slower this day," Mickey bade Kelsey, seeing Gary's condition. "Weary's not the way for crossing Dvergamal."

Kelsey looked back at Gary and huffed loudly. "The journey is hard," the elf scolded sternly. "Why did you not sleep?"

A helpless expression crossed Gary's face.

"He's not used to such heights," the leprechaun answered for him. "Be easy on the lad; ye've asked a lot of him these past days, and he's answered ye with little complaint."

Kelsey huffed again and started off, but he did keep the pace easier.

The large raven spotted the troupe later that day and marked their surprising progress with some concern. Leshiye, Geldion, and Geek had all failed her, and now Ceridwen, in her black-feathered form, had to find another obstacle to throw in Kelsey's path. She knew Kelsey's destination, and her growing respect for the resourceful elf only heightened her fears that he might get past the next expected barriers - dwarf echoes, hurled boulders, and water slicks.

"But how far will you get if the buldrefolk know that you mean to steal Geno?" the raven cackled. "And where will Kelsey turn if Geno is no more?" Several devious options crossed Ceridwen's thoughts as she sped along the mountain updrafts and began her own search for the reclusive dwarfs.

"We'll have no talking from here on in," Mickey whispered to Gary as they crossed one high and sharp ridge. "The mountains have ears all about us, more foe than friend." The leprechaun put a stubby finger over his pursed lips, gave Gary a wink, and skittered up ahead, back in line between Gary and Kelsey.

Long shadows marked the jagged mountains as scattered dark clouds swept along on the wind overhead, or sometimes below. Peaks disappeared in a veil of gray. Crevices and jutting outcroppings cut sharply from every angle, and rivulets of water, from the morning rains and morning mists, slipped down every mountainside, some dark under ominous clouds, others glittering in sunlight, skipping easily across the stones.

Gary wondered what power had shaped this region, what force had so blasted and torn the earth. He had viewed this scene in his imagination, and in the illustrations of imaginative artists, before, while reading books of prehistory, of the violent upheaval that split the continents and raised the mountains. The preternatural edge of stone before the eons of wind and water beat it down and tamed it.

And that primordial, majestic scene spread out all about him, coupled with the interspersed sunlight and Mickey's warning, added greatly to the out-of-place human's trepidation. How insignificant he seemed beside the cliffs of Dvergamal! Gary bent low to the rock along the narrow trail, feeling a strength in the land itself that could blot him out in the blink of his eye.

What creatures might call this land home? he wondered, imagining beasts of incredible might crouched behind every stone, or watching from nearby ledges.

His fears slowed him, and by the time he bothered to notice, Mickey and Kelsey were far ahead, turning a bend that would put them out of sight.

"Wait up!" Gary called, forgetting the leprechaun's words.

"Wait up!" came a response from the side.

"Up," replied another distant stone. "Up... up... up... up... up?... up!"

Gary looked all about, startled and confused by the suddenness of the echoes and the changes in their inflection.

"I telled ye to hold yer words!" Mickey scolded, spinning about.

"Words... words... wo... wo... words... rds... rds," the echoes grumbled back, resonating through every valley.

Kelsey and Mickey scrambled back to join Gary. "What is it?" Gary whispered harshly, seeing from his companions' expressions that these were indeed more than ordinary echoes.

"It," the hidden voices replied. "It... itititit... it?"

"Dvergamal," Mickey said under his breath. "Voice o' the dwarfs. They're playing with us, as they do with all who speak in their mountains." His voice had risen as he talked and the echoes took up a responsive chant.

"Oh, shut yer mouths!" Mickey shouted.

"Shut yer mouths... yer mouths... shut them good!... yer mouths."

"Shut them good?" Gary asked incredulously.

"Dwarfs like to put their own thoughts in," Mickey explained dryly.

"Come along, then," Kelsey interjected. "And keep silent - or they will follow our every move."

"Yes, do come," answered the echoes that were not echoes. "And keep silent... silent... silent... ssssh!"

Gary's trepidations only increased, but this time he worked much harder to keep close behind Kelsey and Mickey.

Down a deep ravine, amidst a tumble of boulders, the dwarven mimickers congratulated themselves.

"A bit of fun, that," Dvalin, the chiseled dwarf with wild black hair atop his thick head, but not a bit of fuzz on his cheeks and chin, clucked to his brother Durin, an ancient specimen, gray-haired and with a beard long enough to tuck into his boots if he so chose. Both dwarfs were overjoyed to hear the passage of strangers in the mountains. It was their month to guard the passes, a normally tedious duty, and playing the echo game with a passing troupe came as a most welcomed diversion.

"If they keep to the high ridges, we will catch them again crossing the north side," Dvalin reasoned, rubbing his stony, stubby hands together (which produced a rocky, grating sound).

"And if they turn down low, their path will bring them right past us," added Durin, adjusting his wide belt to straighten his beard. "Perhaps we should gather some of the others..."

"Dogtail their every step!" Dvalin finished, thinking the idea positively grand. Dvalin turned to leave but stopped abruptly as a large raven flapped down to land on a rock only a foot from his prominent nose.

Both startled dwarfs hooted and rushed about, bumping into each other and into boulders - both types of collision making similar sounds - grabbing wildly for their belted weapons, mattock for Durin, axe for Dvalin.

"Boulders!" howled Durin a moment later, regaining his wits and adjusting his belt once more. "It is only a bird!"

"Only a bird indeed!" Ceridwen retorted sharply, sending the dwarfs into another bouncing dance.

"Brother," Dvalin began very slowly, fingering his small but wicked-looking axe, "did that bird speak to us?"

"You have never met a talking raven?" Ceridwen asked, cocking her little black head. "The memories of dwarfs are not so long as the tales tell!"

"Talking ravens!" the brothers howled at each other, and then the stones rumbled their cry again and again in a true echo.

"A thousand thousand pardons," Durin answered, dipping into a bow that dragged his long silver beard on the ground.

"None of your race has been seen in Dvergamal in a grandfather dwarf's memory," added Dvalin, similarly dipping impossibly low.

"Well, one has been seen now," Ceridwen said a bit more sharply than she intended. "One has come to tell you to ware the elf, the man, and the sprite you so gladly taunt. The elf most of all. His name is Kelsenellenelvial..."

"Elfs have such stupid names," Durin remarked dryly.

"And he has come in search of a smith," Ceridwen finished.

"No, no," replied Dvalin. "We cannot have that. Not for an elf; not at any price!"

"He does not mean to pay," Ceridwen explained. "He means to steal. And the smith he has in mind..."

"Geno!" the dwarfs hooted together, and they hopped about, rebounding around the boulder tumble until they finally popped free of it.

"We shall see!" insisted Dvalin.

"And thank you, O great speaking raven," added Durin, dipping another bow as he rolled away.

Ceridwen watched them disappear into the shadows, then flew off to further ensure her success.

Kelsey pulled up in a shallow cave a short while later, sheltered, he hoped, from the eyes and ears of the mountains.

"We are close," the elf announced when Mickey and Gary entered. "I have seen the dwarfsign."

"Dwarfsign?" Gary had to ask.

"Scrapings on the stone," Mickey explained. "I never did meet a dwarf who could pass a good piece o' stone without taking a taste of it."

This time, Gary kept his questions to himself.

"They know we are about," Kelsey went on, then he paused and looked at Gary as though he expected Gary to interrupt once again. "Since one of us chose to reveal our whereabouts," he finished a moment later, his golden eyes boring into the bumbling human. "But travelers are not uncommon in Dvergamal, and most go to all lengths to keep clear of the dwarfs."

"They'll not be expecting us," Mickey put in. "No wise folks'd go looking for them."

Kelsey's unrelenting glare settled on the leprechaun. He pulled a parchment, a map, from a pocket in his cloak and spread it on the floor. "We are here," he explained, pointing to one of many mountains on the scroll. They all seemed quite unremarkable to Gary, but he didn't question Kelsey's proclamation.

Kelsey moved his finger a short distance across the map. "Here lies the Firth of Buldre, the falls," he said. "And here, too, somewhere, we shall find Geno Hammerthrower."

"Somewhere?" Gary dared to ask. "How will you know for certain?"

Kelsey didn't blink for a long, long while. He replaced the map and headed toward the cave entrance. "Come," he bade his companions. "We must get to the smith and back out again before the shadows engulf the mountains. I do not wish to be in the region after sunset while holding a captive."

"What happens if we come across some dwarfs other than this Geno?" Gary asked Mickey before the leprechaun could scamper after Kelsey.

"I telled ye before," Mickey replied grimly, "elfs and dwarfs don't get on well."

The three had barely gotten back on the open trail when a growling rumble shook the mountainside. It came from within the stony ground, yet it rolled as loudly as a thunderstroke. Kelsey and Mickey exchanged concerned glances, but the elf pressed ahead, picking up the pace. They were terribly exposed now, transversing the top ridge of a double-peaked mountain.

A second trail broke off from the first, diving down between the twin peaks. Kelsey considered the course for just a moment, then plunged ahead, thinking the lower trails safer. He had only gone a dozen long strides, though, when the ground opened up suddenly before his lead foot. Like an animal maw, the earth snapped shut. Kelsey's uncanny agility saved him, for though he was startled by the sudden break, he managed to twist around to the side to stay his momentum.

The earthen mouth opened again and snapped shut, like some hungry child straining to reach a morsel that had dropped to his chin.

"Might that they know why we're here?" Mickey asked.

Kelsey didn't answer. He rushed around the snapping maw and down the path, drawing his sword and muttering with every step.

"Come along, lad," Mickey coaxed. "And don't ye get too close to the mouth!"

Gary watched the snapping earth for some time before he mustered the courage to continue. He couldn't imagine any power that could bring the ground to life like that, and he suspected the maw to be an illusion. His suspicions, however, did not give him the courage to march across the opening and prove his theory.

As they continued on, Gary tried his best to keep up, but in the heavy armor he was no match for Kelsey's frantic strides. Worse than his fears of separation, Gary now heard his clanking and thumping echoing back at him from every direction.

And he was certain that those echoes were not from any natural formations. He thought he heard giggling from one side, but all that he saw there was a broken cluster of fallen boulders. He shook his head, telling himself that it was just his imagination.

Then one of the boulders rose off the ground.

"Mickey!"

Gary's yell came just in time. The boulder went soaring through the air, and would surely have smashed in the back of Kelsey's head, but the leprechaun spun about and pointed a finger at the approaching rock, countering the magic and holding it still in midair.

"Run on!" Kelsey ordered, and he rushed away. More boulders shuddered, as if to life, then rose up, and the three companions scrambled furiously to find some cover or simply to get out of range.

Gary felt better this time when Mickey appeared perched on his shoulder.

"Keep going, lad," the leprechaun prodded, waving one finger about in the air. "I'll catch any that's coming from behind!"

To Gary's dismay, they were soon back on an exposed ledge, with a deep gorge to their left. The ground sloped more gradually to Gary's right, and he considered running down that way. But Mickey, apparently understanding Gary's thoughts, told him to keep in line behind Kelsey and trust in the elf's judgment.

Soon they heard a dull, continuous roar, and then the perpetual mist from the towering waterfalls, the Firth of Buldre, came into sight, not so far to the left of the fairly straight trail. Gary didn't dare look behind him; he could tell from Mickey's grumbling and wild, jerking movements that flying rocks were still in pursuit.

Up ahead, Kelsey stopped suddenly and whacked his fine sword against a boulder on the side of the trail. Gary didn't understand until he got up close enough to see that the rock had reached out an arm to grab at the passing elf!

"Dwarf magic," Mickey muttered, then he yelled, "Duck, lad!"

Gary lurched forward and stumbled, unable to break his weighted momentum.

The boulder shot by him, a near miss, then continued on to slam heavily into the rock holding Kelsey. Both stones split apart and the shocking jolt sent the elf sprawling to the ground.

Gary lumbered by, fighting for his balance, reaching for the downed elf. Another rock skipped alongside him, clipping his shin. The earth roared and trembled, and Mickey tumbled from Gary's shoulder.

"Kelsey!" Gary called, and he finally skidded to a halt on the edge of the trail. He turned about to regard his elven companion, then found his own troubles as the rocks broke away under his feet.

"Catch him!" he heard Kelsey yell to Mickey, but the leprechaun, already holding two large stones motionless in the air, had no magic left for Gary.

The air rushed past him; his shield twisted painfully behind him, holding hostage his strapped arm. He felt the fine mist as he descended below the level of the waterfalls, several streams of water eagerly rushing and diving over the ledge.

That horrible moment did not feel like any dream to Gary Leger. The blur, the rush of air, was too real; he knew that he would not awaken safely in his own bed. The continuous thunder of the Firth of Buldre drowned out his pitiful screams.

And then he hit, with force enough to rattle every bone in his body, in a pool protected from the tumult of the falls by a rock jetty. Everything seemed to move in slow motion as Gary floundered, not comprehending which way was up. His helmed head clunked against rocks; the current, the aches, and the weight of his armor fought against his every move. Then his foot hooked on a chunk of stone, and his momentum, as he rolled his body back over the leg, brought his head and shoulders clear of the cold water.

Gary gasped and sputtered as the water drained from his helmet. He kept enough wits about him to throw his shield arm over some nearby rocks, hooking the bulky item securely. He hung there for what seemed like many minutes, finally dragging himself half out of the pool, getting enough of his weight onto the rocks to keep him from sliding back in, at least.

He could hear nothing above the thunderous falls, could feel nothing beyond the hard stone and the chilling bite of the water, and his long wet hair hung in his eyes. Somehow he managed to get a numbed finger into the helmet's eye slit and brush the hair aside.

And then he glimpsed a wondrous sight indeed.

All about him, the water cascaded down the hundred-foot cliff face in dozens of separate falls, barely visible through the perpetual mist. Huge chunks of rock stuck up out of the basin pools, stubborn sentinels against the relentless onslaught, defying the pounding water. In this basin, many of the mountain streams created by the seasonal melt came together, collecting below the falls to form the birthplace of the River Oustle.

From the angle where he was lying, Gary could also see behind the largest of the falls. Instead of the expected stone wall, though, there loomed a cave, lighted within from the blazing fire of an open hearth. Gary struggled a bit to the side to get a better view. There was a table in the little room, with an empty platter and a large flagon atop it, and a bench filled with ironworking tools: tongs, hammers, and the like.

The single occupant, bandy-legged but broad-shouldered, stood before the hearth, swinging a huge hammer easily at the end of one of his lean, sinewy arms. His sandy-brown hair hung straight under a tall knitted cap and he continually flicked his head, as if to move some strands from in front of his face. The creature could not have been more than half Gary's height, half again taller than Mickey, but there was a solidness about this one, a powerful presence that Gary could sense clearly, even from this distance.

Gary knew it was a dwarf, though he couldn't be certain if it wasthe dwarf. But what if this was the famous Geno? Gary pondered. What might arrogant Kelsey say if Gary walked right in and captured the smithy? Gary realized then that he had lost his spear in the fall. He twisted about to look up the long cliff - was amazed that he had even survived such a dive - and realized, too, that he had lost all trace of his companions.

"He can't be that tough," Gary told himself, sluggishly dragging himself farther up onto the rocks. He meant to sneak in and make the capture bare-handed, but he stopped before he had even cleared the water, watching curiously as a large raven swooped in around the thunder of the waterfall and landed inside the little room, behind the oblivious dwarf.

Gary grew truly amazed as the raven shifted form, flattening out as it slipped down to the floor, transforming into a long black snake. It started for the dwarf, then seemed to change its mind and made for the table instead. It coiled and curled its way up the table's single central leg and slithered over the flat rim to the flagon.

"What the hell?" was all that the disbelieving Gary could mutter as the snake hooked its considerable fangs over the lip of the mug and began milking venom into the dwarf's drink.

Gary finally managed to get his legs under him. He tried to rise, but wound up crawling instead, knowing that he had to get behind the falls. He stumbled down with a loud clang and held very still. But neither the dwarf nor the snake apparently heard him - of course they didn't with the continual roar.

The snake had finished by then and it slithered back to the floor and across the room, disappearing into a crack in the wall.

The dwarf, too, had finished. He turned about - his face was clean-shaven and his eyes wide and blue-gray - and headed for the table.

Gary called out to him, but he didn't seem to notice.

"Can't let him drink that!" Gary growled at himself, and he picked up a stone and threw himself forward, scrambling and rolling the last few yards to the edge of the room, his fear for the dwarf overruling his sincere respect for the powerful falls.

The dwarf had hoisted the flagon by the time Gary got in range, but the man launched the large stone anyway, praying for luck. The missile bopped off the side of the dwarf's head, causing little damage, but it did manage to knock the poisoned flagon to the floor on the rebound.

"What?" the dwarf roared, and Gary, sheltered somewhat from the roar of the falls by the rim of the cave, heard him clearly. Gary got up to his feet, finally, and he fell back against the cave wall, bruised and exhausted, and knowing that he owed the diminutive smithy an explanation.

The dwarf, seeming not even dazed by the rock, turned on Gary and planted his stubby knuckles against his hips, against the leather sides of a wide and jeweled belt.

"Poisoned," Gary rasped helplessly against the growling echoes, and the steely-eyed creature didn't blink.

Gary started forward from the wall, figuring he couldn't be heard well enough to explain.

Then he learned how Geno Hammerthrower had earned his name.

"You spilled my mead!" the dwarf roared, and he launched the hammer so effortlessly that Gary didn't even realize it had been thrown - until it popped him square in the faceplate of his helm. He grunted and bounced back against the wall.

When his eyes stopped spinning, he saw a second hammer spinning end over end his way, and then a third and fourth, before the second even reached him.

"Wait!" Gary shrieked, trying futilely to get the heavy shield up to block. The hammers bonked in - one, two, three - again right between the eyes.

Waves of dizziness rolled over Gary, the clangs echoed over and over in his ears. Another hammer struck home, and then another - did this infernal dwarf have an endless supply?

Gary realized that he was sitting now. He looked out the helm's small slit - it wasn't running straight across anymore - and saw the diminutive dwarf hoisting an impossibly huge hammer. Even Cedric's magical helm wouldn't stop that one, Gary realized, but here was little the dazed man could do to stop the dwarf from finishing him off.

There came a splash from the side and Kelsey swung into the cave at the end of a rope. His momentum carried him right into the dwarf, sending both of them tumbling across the floor.

Mickey came into the room then, floating right through the falls at the end of an umbrella! The leprechaun landed easily, snapped his fingers to make the umbrella fold up again and disappear up his sleeve, and tossed Gary a casual wink.

Kelsey came up first, putting his sword in line with the dwarf's face. "I have you!" the elf declared. The dwarf, still kneeling, spat in Kelsey's eye. His gnarly hands seemed to actually grab hold of the floor and he jerked it as a maid might snap a carpet. The ground rolled under Kelsey, sending him head over heels backwards. He rolled right back to his feet, but without his precious sword, and then he crashed against a wall.

Gary felt a tug on his back. He watched curiously as a leather strap across his chest untied itself. The tug came again, and the case holding the spear of Cedric Donigarten slipped out from under him. Gary understood what was causing the strange events when he noticed Mickey holding his hand out towards the case, magically pulling it in.

Kelsey was still standing, leaning, against the wall, and Gary thought the stunned elf would surely be crushed as the wild dwarf dipped his rock-hard head and barreled in.

But Mickey was the next to strike. The spear case shot across the room, just a few inches from the floor, and cut in between the dwarf's pumping legs. The creature pitched in headlong, and Kelsey found a hold above his head and lifted his legs high and wide.

With a tremendouscrack! the beardless dwarf hit the wall face-first. He bounced back several feet, but somehow managed to hold his balance.

"I have you, Geno Hammerthrower!" Kelsey cried again, and he jumped out, pulling a chain, shackles at its ends, from under his green cape. The stunned dwarf still did not move as Kelsey looped the chain over him and snapped the shackles around his wrists.