King of the Woodlands

Chapter 6

"Oh no, ye mustn't leave now!" said Glarfour Barrelbeard. He'd tied his beard in knots of three today. "We'll have the biggest celebration with flagons of ale and even more fresh berries and dozens of fresh cakes!"

It was the next morning, and the dwarves were eating breakfast before getting back to their labor. They belched and farted and put their fingers in their noses to do some unholy digging.

"I appreciate all you've done for me," Lilibeth said. And she meant it, she really did. "But I'm afraid I must be leaving soon."

Glarfour's ruddy smile dropped from his face, and he  nodded quickly, frenziedly. "Of course," he said. "We'll have to cut short the festivities. Forgive me, miss. I'm certain that ye can still have a wonderful time over a five-year period."

Five years trapped here.

She thought of poor Father waiting for her, an iron slaves' collar around his neck, waiting and waiting for a savior that would never come. The ache in her heart was too much for her to bear.

Lilibeth stomach lurched. She looked at the fat little dwarf, then to the stables where Aheiran was housed, to the great big mountains and the world that lay beyond it, and she began to panic.

Oh, she began to panic alright.

So she did the first thing she could think of.

She ran to the stables.

"Wait!" Glarfour Barrelbeard shouted, his beard twisting and waving like a banner. "Where ye going? We could celebrate forever and ever and—"

Lilibeth pushed past the sleeping stable hand dwarf and stumbled in, searching for a fat stallion with a dappled grey coat.

Sure enough, Aheiran was nestled in a bed of soft hay, lazily gnawing an apple between his teeth and looking infuriatingly relaxed.

"We don't have time for this, you," Lilibeth snapped. "Come on. We have to go."

He looked at her with irritated black eyes, but he stood and allowed her to mount.

She kicked him into a gallop, and they were off.

"Stop them!" the Dwarf Lord bellowed as they careened past the dining hall. He slammed down a flagon of ale and leapt to his stubby feet.

Hundreds of tiny dwarves were snapping at Aheiran's heels, waving iron pickaxes and shaking their beards back and forth. Their beady eyes were bright with fury at the sudden escape of their visitor, and they were quite scary when angry.

"Faster!" Lilibeth screeched. "We must go faster! Get through the mountain quickly!"

Aheiran went so fast the world became nothing more than a blur of color, a blur of angry dwarves and homespun overalls. Lilibeth gripped onto the reins as tightly as she could. She tried very hard not to focus on the fact that they might die, instead trying to focus on what would happen if they didn't die. They'd go and save Father and she could eat all the lemon cakes she wanted.

The horse plunged into a gaping black passageway, and the frigid blackness seeped into Lilibeth's skin. The passageway was quiet as the grave, which meant any small noise could alert the dwarves.

"Watch your step," Lilibeth hissed. "They lost us."

"I have the agility of a swan," Aheiran said loftily. "Just watch."

Much to her disappointment (and relief), that smug stallion was right. His steps were feather-light against the dark stone.

And then they were out.