Jenna Helland - The Fanged Crown

“I agree,” Harp said. “What do you think, Kitto?”

“I think we’re in trouble,” Kitto said, pointing to a nifern that was standing at the top of the causeway.

“Nah,” Boult said. “They’re like dumplings with legs. I killed the other one with one blow.”

Before Boult had finished his sentence, several other niferns appeared. They milled around at the top of the causeway, raising and lowering their heads as if they were sniffing the foul-smelling air.

“Huh,” Harp said as the pack continued to amass on the road ahead of them. “I don’t think they liked you calling them dumplings.”

“Your mother was a dumpling,” Boult said.

“My mother was a saint.”

“Your mother was a whore who left you in an alley for the rats.”

“Your mother was a rat who left you in the alley for the whores,” Harp retorted.

“Shut up!” Verran snapped. “Can’t you be serious for once?”

“It gets them worked up to kill something,” Kitto said. “You should try it.”

“I don’t think so,” Verran said. “And I don’t see you making a fool of yourself every time you open your mouth, Kitto.”

“My house is in order,” Kitto said. “I’m not scared to die.”

“You don’t have a house, kiddo,” Harp said, smiling faintly.

“That’s why it’s so easy to keep it clean,” Kitto replied.

“Well, that water’s not clean,” Harp said. The niferns had grown to a dozen, trapping them against the palace door. “I’m guessing fighting for the causeway is our best option.”

“What are they waiting for?” Boult asked.

“Probably just sizing us up,” Verran prattled nervously. “There’s a type of wolf that hunts like that. They’ll surround you and just watch. They won’t let you leave, but it’s like they want to see what you’ll do. I don’t know. Maybe they’re not really that smart. There’s also a kind of beast—”

“It’s all right, Verran,” Harp said gently. “We’ll get through this. It might be a good time to try one of your spells.”

“I don’t think I can,” Verran said worriedly. “I feel something strange. It’s affecting my magic. If I do a spell, something awful might happen.”

“Or you might melt some of those doggies,” Boult said. “That spell you did on Bootman would be useful right now.”

“Or it might melt you,” Kitto reminded Boult.

“Fine, Master Thief,” Boult said. “You have a better plan?”

“No,” Kitto said honestly.

“Captain Harp?” Boult asked. “How about some orders?”

“Unfurl the sails?” Harp suggested. “Tack to starboard. Hold that wheel steady, boys.”

“You are so useless,” Boult growled. “Me and Harp in front. Kitto and Verran get behind us.”

Harp knew the maneuver that Boult was suggesting, but usually it was done with a larger number of soldiers. The ones in front would brace themselves behind the shields, while the ones in back used long weapons to stab the oncoming enemies. Following Boult’s orders, they grouped themselves into a defensive box to await the onslaught of the scaly dogs. Harp immediately noticed a flaw in the plan.

“Um, Boult?” he said, keeping an eye on the niferns still milling at the top of the causeway. “You do realize that we’re holding the dwarven equivalent of frying pans and steak knives.”

“Only if your hands are freakishly large.”

“It’s stupid,” Harp said, standing up. “The boys are more likely to stab me in the back of the head than anything.”

“What do you suggest?” Boult said.

“No time,” Kitto yelled as the animals rushed down the road in unison. Kitto sheathed his sword, pulled his crossbow off his shoulder, and loaded one of the small bolts.

“What the hell are you doing?” Harp asked, waving his dagger-sized blade at Kitto. “Get your sword out!”

But Kitto leaped onto one of the pillars, curled an arm around it, and momentarily braced his feet against the square base. He jumped from the pillar onto the back of one of the niferns. Firing the crossbow directly into the back of the creature’s skull, he killed it instantly. As the body of the nifern slumped on the ground, the rest of the hissing niferns surrounded them like a flood. Harp kicked one in the head, sending it reeling. Dazed briefly, the animal scurried back into the fray. As Boult stabbed one in the throat, another swung its tail and forced Boult to drop to the ground to avoid the stinger. Three niferns leaped onto his back, biting into him while Harp and Kitto rushed to pull Boult back to his feet.

“Verran, do something!” Harp called as he kicked another one in the jaw. Kitto sliced one across the back with his blade, but it rushed at him as if it didn’t notice the wound. Kitto nearly lost his balance as he scrambled backward, but Harp bent low and brought his sword up under the creature’s belly, slitting it open. He jumped back as the blood sloshed across the glass shards strewn across the ground.

“I can try, but it might just make them enormous and invulnerable,” Verran shouted.

“Try something!” Boult demanded.

Harp and the others flanked Verran to keep the niferns away from the boy as he pressed his palms to his forehead, chanting under his breath. The niferns formed a tight circle around them, ready to rip the men to shreds as soon as they ran out of fight. Verran dropped his hands, and a yellowish haze began rising from the ground.

“Verran!” Harp exclaimed, looking at the mist around his boots. “What is that?”

“I don’t know! It wasn’t what I was thinking about at all!”

The haze drifted across the ground and pooled around the niferns’ paws. As if the yellow clouds distracted them, the niferns stopped their assault and snapped at the wisps of yellow air. When the haze reached the height of the niferns’ faces, the animals began to wheeze. One by one they dropped to the ground as their sides labored up and down with shallow breaths. They shuddered and were still.

“It’s poison,” Verran said. “Fast poison. That’s good!”

“Except it’s not,” Kitto said, pointing to the crest of the causeway where more niferns were stalking back and forth aggressively, safely out of range of the low-lying poisoned air.

“If we run, we’ll get eaten by the reinforcements,” Harp said.

“And if we stay, we’ll choke on our own vomit,” Boult said, looking down at the haze that had reached his thighs.

“Up the pillars,” Kitto urged, climbing up to the top of the square base while the others followed. It got them off the ground, but the haze was still rising quickly.

“I told you it could go bad,” Verran said.

“It could be worse,” Harp said.

“At least we’ll be unconscious when they eat our bodies,” Boult said.

“Harp! Do you hear something?” Kitto asked, twisting his body around to look at the front of the palace. “What?” Harp asked.

“I hear mewling, like a kitten,” Harp said.

“I don’t hear anything,” Boult said. “Except the sound of my upcoming death.”

Harp jumped off the pillar and waded through the haze to the palace door.

“What are you doing?” Boult shouted.

“Liel!” Harp yelled. “Liel, where are you!”

“Harp, there’s no one there,” Boult said.

“Liel!” Harp shouted again. Above him on the balcony, a cat with cream-colored fur and dark brown spots had appeared on the top of the stone railing. “It’s Harp! And Kitto!”

The cat jumped off the railing and disappeared from sight. Kitto jumped down and hurried through the haze after Harp.

“Are they both insane?” Boult asked Verran.

But then a figure appeared on the balcony above them. When she leaned out over the railing to look down at the crewmates, her coppery hair glinted in the sunlight, and her face was familiar to them all.