I lost track of what was happening with the dwarves because Uncle Finneus grabbed my arm and dragged me out of my hiding place. A second later, I was racing across the clearing toward the Troll King. The monster stood up from his throne, and I saw how much bigger he was than the rest of the trolls. The creature stood at least a head taller than anything in the vicinity. It began moving towards the dwarves.

“Bartholomew, gain the king’s attention,” shouted Uncle Finneus.

Thanks to my uncle’s earlier guidance, I already had a spell prepared in my mind. I stretched out my left hand and sent a golden raven of fire to attack the troll king’s head. It landed, and the king roared in anger, turning to find the offender.

It saw us and roared again. I stumbled while Uncle Finneus picked up speed. I stopped when I was within fifteen yards of the creature and sent three fireballs at it. My aim was true, and they exploded on impact, making the king waved his hand in front of his face before he glared hate-filled eyes at me. I swallowed and tried to calm my breathing.

Uncle Finneus was not far behind. Without pausing for a second, he went from a full-out sprint into his sword dance, twirling around the creature as he attacked the Achilles tendon and the back of the knee. An hour ago, he had been able to cut through the femoral artery of a regular troll with a single slash. Against the troll king, Uncle Finneus made only shallow cuts. In pain, the troll king turned his attention to Uncle Finneus, swinging closed fists at the much smaller elf. Uncle Finneus bobbed and weaved, dodging every attack but unable to repost with the monster’s full attention upon him.

I was not biding my time with this happening. Drawing in a deep breath, I raised both of my hands and sent a stream of fire to the upper torso of the king. Focusing on my energy, I asked the fire to burn hotter. I grinned when the stream of fire turned from orange to gold. I screamed my defiance with the fire. The troll king screamed back in reply. My spell came to an end, and I looked to see what had happened. The troll king’s green skin had turned dark brown, and Uncle Finneus was lying on the floor.

“Crap,” I yelled and began racing towards the two, hoping I hadn’t just killed my own uncle.

As I ran, the King opened his eyes and growled at me. He began moving towards me. The earth shook under the weight of his charge. I stopped running and once again called out to the fire. The fire came, but along with it came a searing pain underneath my right collarbone. I fell to my knees from the torture, tears falling from my eyes.

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There was a cry of pain, and when I looked up, the troll king was on his knees. As I watched, a terrifying creature of black and shadow carrying Uncle Finneus’s sword, leaped and drove his sword into the troll king’s brain. The cry stopped, and a strange silence overtook the battlefield. There was a moment of clarity as I realized we had won, then everything faded into black.

When I awoke, I was lying on the red velvet cushions of a train. I sat up, looking out the window to see the forest speeding past. A small sprite made eye contact with me out the window. I smiled at the little creature, who bared its teeth at me and threw itself at the train. The train rocked gently back and forth, and I laughed at the little creature's efforts.

“Did you never read ‘Hadrian’s Gate’ as a child, Bartholomew? Taunting them like that will only lead to trouble,” said my uncle from the seat across from me.

I looked over and saw Uncle Finneus relaxing against the back cushions of his couch, reading a book. I cocked an eyebrow, “Aren’t those stories just children’s tales to scare us?”

“Every story has a hint of truth, child. Hadrian’s Gate just has more literal truth than others. I knew the author, and she would swear upon every god known, that she had been hunted down by sprites for eighteen years after she made the mistake you are making. Nothing too dangerous, but trinkets would move from where they were placed, or go missing. Sometimes food will be stolen. It would get annoying very quickly, and I’d have to kick you out, so be nice to the little cretin.”

“Oh,” I said.

I offered my sincerest smile to the small creature, then closed the blinds. “What happened anyway, Uncle Finneus?”

“I’ll need you to be more specific, Bartholomew,” said Uncle Finneus in a dry tone.

“What happened with the Troll King and the dwarves?” I asked. “Are we done with the case?”

Uncle Finneus nodded his head and turned a page in his book. “Quite right, we’re finished. There are no answers unsolved, and the dwarves will not be disappearing again. There was nothing else left to do, so we are on our way back to Glueburn now.”

I frowned. “Just like that?”

Uncle Finneus nodded, “Just like that.”

I shook my head. “But like, Trolls using stealth magic? Surely there’s more to the story than just that?”

Uncle Finneus looked up from his book. “There is, but it’s not quite the time to discuss it. More evidence needs to be gathered.”

I blinked. “Then why are we leaving?”

My uncle turned back to his book. “Why, Bartholomew, the evidence will be found in Glueburn, not here.”

The conversation lulled as the train continued its steady pace. I stared out of the window, lost in thought about the recent events. The image of the troll king falling to Uncle Finneus's sword played over in my mind. It was both terrifying and exhilarating. I had never been part of something so dangerous, so real.

The rest of the journey passed in quiet contemplation. As we neared Glueburn, the familiar sights and sounds of the city began to filter in through the open window. The adventure had come to an end, but I knew it was just the beginning of my journey into a world far bigger than I had ever imagined.

“Uncle Finneus,” I said as we gathered our belongings.

He looked over. “Yes, Bartholomew?”

“Thank you for saving my life”

He gave a rare, genuine smile. “You’re welcome, nephew. Remember, the world is full of mysteries waiting to be solved. Keep your eyes open and your mind sharp.”

With those parting words, we stepped off the train and into the bustling streets of Glueburn with all its horrible smell. The city was alive, a massive machine of chaos and joy. As I followed Uncle Finneus through the crowded streets, I couldn’t help but feel that every face in the crowd told a story, every shadow a secret.

The End