Behind us I hear a lot of shouts and noise. I glance over my shoulder and see a few of the other merchants and travellers running toward us, but the moment we’re all across the mountain threshold, the hole in the wall begins to seal over. It is fascinating to watch; the stone appears from nowhere and there is no seam or pattern. It’s just perfect.

It’s not as dark as I thought inside. There is a very dim glow that I see comes from little bits of lichen on the walls. It’s enough for my troll vision but I can tell Marika and the others are blind. I reach out and take her hand gently and she immediately steadies herself.

“Thank you,” she whispers. She gives my fingers a good squeeze.

A dwarf appears. Or at least, that’s how it probably looked to Theo and the others. To my eyes he was there the whole time, holding a lantern that he only now ignites. It casts a beautiful blue light.

“I will not say welcome, outsiders, because you are not welcome. But your help is needed, and so we will tolerate you. What are your terms?”

Marika and Theo step up. “We want passage through the Undergallery to Montcalm in exchange for saving your king.”

“Agreed. Step forward and follow me. Speak to nobody but me. Touch nothing.” With that, he turns and starts walking, and we follow.

The humans are bunched up and staying close to the dwarf, who has the light. I don’t need it so I am more willing to look around. I expected a lot of statues and stuff but there is nothing like that. There’s just stone and more stone and then, when you least expect it, even more stone.

The tunnels are perfectly smooth, eerily smooth really. My feet don’t feel even a pebble under them. I wonder how they carved them out. Probably magic. Dwarf magic! I start imagining all kinds of things: magic pickaxes, magic shovels, magic drills. When my mind conjures up an image of a magic bulldozer I realize I have gone a little too deep in my imagination.

The dwarf leads us through a long series of tunnels, and after a few minutes we start seeing other dwarves. They look at us for just a moment and then return to what they were doing, which seems to be working on the tunnels. None of them seem curious at all, which is weird but refreshing for me. I expected a lot more staring.

We reach a dead end. No, not a dead end; another door. It’s just not visible until the dwarf taps it with his hand, and then the stone melts away, and I see what the dwarf meant when he said touch nothing.

The room we enter is filled with all kinds of beautiful things. Cups made of gold sit on tables made of smooth black glass. From the ceiling hang statues that move slowly through the air on cables that I can barely make out. They float in the air like angels. Very short, very squat angels, all with beards. The room itself is dimly lit like the tunnels, and I feel a little sorry for the humans because there’s no way they can see this amazing display above us.

Theo bumps into a table and the settings on it rattle a little. The dwarf turns to him and for the first time I see emotion. He looks enraged, but only until he determines that Theo didn’t touch anything on purpose. Then his face blanks and he continues on.

Mental note: dwarves take their private property seriously!

There are enough table settings here to seat a hundred people, but not a single one is occupied. I wonder why that is, but no explanation is forthcoming and I don’t want to ask. Soon we’re through that room and into another, which seems to be a servants entrance of some kind. There’s trolleys and serving dishes all bearing food, but the food…

“That smell,” says Marika, wrinkling her nose. “Some of the food is fresh but some of it is rotten!”

“No dwarf eats while the king cannot eat.”

“Then why make it? It’s a waste,” says Theo. I silently agree.

“Work must continue,” says the dwarf in a tone that sounds like he’s explaining to a child that the sun comes up in the morning no matter what.

Through more and more rooms new walk, and then the ceiling gets low. The dwarf apologizes. “These tunnels are not made for any but dwarves, and that is so that if we are attacked our defenders have the advantage. But you are not here to harm us, so you are permitted. Through this door is the king. Only the troll may touch him. If you harm him we will kill all of you and drop your remains outside.”

What a cheerful thought! He opens the door and we crouch to enter. The room has only one piece of furniture: a bed. It is stone and has no padding. Apparently dwarves like a firmer mattress than most people.

The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

On the bed is a dwarf, but he looks dead. His skin is grey and his flesh is wasted away. It takes all my focused senses to hear his breath. The sheet over his body is covered in dust; he has not moved or been moved in some time. There are patches of sweat on his face that glisten in the dim lichen light. His shoulder has a large bandage on it, which is soaked through with some dark fluid. It doesn’t smell like blood, but like something else. Something nasty.

I walk over while my friends hang back. My Eyes of Alchemy immediately light up and tell me that the dwarf is sweating an alchemical ingredient.

Poisoned Dwarf Sweat - Acid

Hmm. I don’t know if I can help the king. It seems he has been poisoned, if I’m reading the Eyes of Alchemy right. I have healing potions, but this isn’t an injury. I don’t have any ingredients to make an antidote potion. I’ve never seen an ingredient that says Antidote at all.

“What is his condition?” asks the dwarf. He glares at me like the world’s angriest garden gnome.

I shrug and look at Marika. She winces. “I am sorry but lady troll can’t speak. We communicate by yes or no questions.”

The dwarf lifts his head. “Ah.” He taps his foot on the floor and the door to the room opens. Another dwarf stands there and he says something that I don’t catch. When the guide dwarf turns back to us, he makes an offer.

“We will help you with your problem, but only while you are here. You will return it when your job is done. Do you agree?”

It takes a moment before I realize he’s talking to me. I nod. After a few minutes the dwarf returns and hands the guide dwarf a stone, which glows a low blue like the lichen. He hands it to me.

“Put that in your mouth.”

I look at it but my Eyes of Alchemy don’t tell me anything, so I pop the stone in my mouth. It finds a nice spot under my tongue and I almost immediately lose track of it.

“Now, troll alchemist, what is his condition?”

“He’s been poisoned,” I say. My words come out as a growl but Marika and Theo both gasp.

“Lady troll! I can read your words!” Marika points to my hips.

I look down. Something is glowing blue by my legs. Floating in midair are words written in a language I don’t know. However, I can understand them. Another ‘gift’ from Jinx, no doubt.

“Hmm. The words are low for humans to read. Troll, lift them up.” The dwarf mimes putting his hands under something and lifting. I do the same by putting my hands under where the words appear, and to my surprise they ascend. I stop them at about my belly button. Low enough for the dwarf to read and high enough that Marika and Theo and the others won’t have to walk around with their necks bent.

“My name’s Ellie,” I say. Marika smiles so hard she glows.

“I’m so glad to meet you finally,” she says. Theo nods too, smiling as well.

“You didn’t know your companion’s name?” asks the dwarf.

“Well, she couldn’t talk properly,” says Marika defensively.

“Still can’t, really,” says Theo. “But this is good.”

It is. I want to keep this thing. But the dwarves want it back. I put the idea out of my head for now. “Your king’s been poisoned. His sweat is an alchemy ingredient. Can I take some of it?”

“Why?” The dwarf is curt. He is looking at me intently.

Something strange happens. What I mean to say is ‘I might be able to figure out what poisoned him from it’. But what appears on the floating screen, as I’ve decided to call it, is different. The letters show up red, not blue, and they rat me out.

“I want it for my own use.”

The dwarf looks at the words and then up at me. “The transcriber knows the truth and shows it.” He doesn’t change his tone or expression, but I still feel chastised.

“Sorry. I thought if I told you I wanted it for my own use you’d be angry.”

The dwarf shakes his head. “No. It’s no use to us and has no value. Take all you want.”

“What’s your name, by the way?” I ask, and hear a sharp intake of breath.

“Sorry, dwarf. She doesn’t know better.” Theo and Marika are both scrambling to apologize. Did I put my foot in my mouth?

The dwarf looks angry and insulted. “Did you really not know?”

I shake my head. “No, sorry. Is that rude?”

He reads my words and visibly relaxes. “Truth. Don’t ask a dwarf his name. Exiles are different. They can do what they like until they die. But true dwarves, we keep to our own.”

Well that was a lot to unpack, but I decided to save it for later. More importantly I wipe down the dwarf king’s face with a handy piece of cloth and then use my Alchemist’s Pouch to store the resulting sweat. I got enough for a single potion, which was more than I expected.

“How long has he been ill?”

“Some time,” says the dwarf. “I can count the meals he’s missed if you need an exact measurement.”

“No, that’s ok. I’m just wondering why he’s… not dead.” I wince inside. Not very tactful, Ellie! “Can you tell me what happened to him, as best you know?”

“He came out of the royal tunnels—the tunnels of privilege. He was wounded and delirious, and his hammer and pick were missing. That and the fact he carried no ore with him told us he was in a bad way. His wound is small but deep, and it hasn’t healed at all. He only made it across the threshold of the tunnels before collapsing. Since then he has slept.”

“Sounds like he got poisoned by something that attacked him, then.”

“Dwarves resist poisons, like trolls do, but to a lesser degree. It is likely he only received a mild dose. Still, a dose strong enough to affect a dwarf would likely kill ten humans.” He puffs his chest out a little and I try not to giggle. “But our nature means that he will neither get better nor worse. Hmm.”

The dwarf sinks into thought and I take the time to look around. The room is plain but orderly. There’s nothing here to help me save the king as far as I can see.

I turn to ask the dwarf, but he speaks first. “You’ve seen the king. Now we will offer you hospitality. Tomorrow you will work on the cure.” With a gesture that unmistakably says ‘follow me’ he turns and leaves.

I look at Marika. “What if we can’t cure him?” She shrugs and I am not exactly filled with confidence.

I can smell worry on her, and a tiny little bit of fear. Something in me flares up defensively, as if my friend is being threatened. I can’t tell if it’s the human part of me or the troll. I promise myself I won’t let her down. Marika and the rest helped me so much! If not for her then I’d be eating dead deer guts in the forest right now.

I shudder at the thought and decide to look forward to a dwarf dinner. How bad can it be?