As hundreds of dwarves surrounded us, my first instinct was to tell Hen to hit the gas.
OK, that was my second instinct. But I wasn’t going to mention wetting my pants. The dwarves stomped their feet and began chanting something in unison. I couldn’t make out what they were saying, but it felt threatening.
“Are we really doing this?” James asked.
Hen looked at me. “Your call, Underboy.”
I rubbed my thighs. It had been easy to say, let’s go see the dwarves. But now that we were surrounded by throngs of bearded soldiers in metal armor, I was scared to death.
Finally, I bit my lip, unbuckled my seatbelt, opened the door, and stepped out. I held up my arms, torch in hand, trying to look both confident and nonthreatening.
Hen and James followed my lead, stepping out of the car, hands raised. Corbyn hung on Hen’s back.
The dwarves continued stomping and chanting.
“Do something!” James said to me. “Or are we watching this hoedown all night?”
I stepped forward. “Um, excuse me, dwarves.”
The dwarves ignored me.
“Santiago. This isn’t Great-Aunt Flora’s canasta club,” James said. He switched to his Gaston voice and yelled, “Could you all shut up?”
Again nothing.
“Very tactful,” I told him.
“Wassap everyone!” Hen shouted.
Once again, nothing changed. Then I had an idea.
“Do you have a lighter?” I asked Hen.
She poked her head into the car and a few seconds later was tossing one to me. With a couple flicks of my thumb, I set fire to the torch. My eyes widened when the flame turned blue. I looked at it then smiled at the dwarves as if I’d expected this to happen.
The dwarves abruptly stopped chanting and stomping.
I cleared my throat, hoping my voice didn’t sound as nervous as I felt.
“Uh hey, I’m Santiago,” I said, my eyebrows shooting up when the flame turned purple. “I wanted to bring you this gift and–”
“Then why don’t you?” a dwarf asked as the flame changed back to blue. Some of the dwarves guffawed.
“Huh?” I said.
“You say you wanted to bring a gift, so why didn’t you?”
The dwarves laughed again. I swallowed, flustered, and said. “Sorry, I do– I mean I did bring a gift—” I faltered as the flame flickered purple again—“and was hoping you could help me.”
“What’s it doing?” James hissed as it went blue.
“No clue,” I whispered. Another purple flicker. “Hen? Corbyn?”
Hen shrugged as Corbyn shook his head.
Someone shoved me and I stumbled forward toward the mountain entrance, barely keeping the flame from hitting a dwarf. More shoves followed and I saw that James and Hen were getting similar treatment. Hen was eating this up—she had to be nuts. Corbyn, was clinging to her back, ashen faced.
I gripped the torch tightly, trying to keep it from setting any beards on fire as we were unceremoniously pushed closer and closer to the large, open entrance to the dwarves’ mountain home. Dwarves of different shapes and sizes shouted and leered, apparently taking delight in our fear. One particularly obnoxious dwarf grabbed James’s arm and feigned eating it. James yanked his arm back and shot him one of his withering glares.
The noise got even louder once we passed the threshold into the mountain as the sound reverberated off the walls. The interior was cavernous with large, angular pillars striking up into the ceiling. Dozens of balconies protruded from the walls with stairwells and bridges leading up and down, this way and that in a complex network of intersecting stone paths.
We finally stopped moving forward although the dwarves didn’t stop pushing and shoving us randomly.
There was a commotion among the dwarves closest to us until finally a dwarf was thrust out of the crowd. His beard was quite a bit shorter than most of the other dwarves, only reaching down to the base of his neck. He wore glasses with circular lenses that seemed too small for his face. While most of the other dwarves had thick-looking armor, this dwarf wore a silky gold vest over a red collared shirt. If this were the Underland, I’d peg him for an accountant. The dwarf shouted for quiet but the noise only decreased somewhat. Finally, he gave up and turned to us.
“Where did you get the pretty trinket, humans?” he asked.
“From good ol’ Wasslehook,” Hen said.
The dwarf’s glare intensified. “Wasslehook the elf had this?”
“Yeah,” I said. “I don’t think he knew what it was though.”
“Elves think they’re so smart.”
I extended the torch to him, but he didn’t take it. He leaned in, his bespectacled eyes looking humongous as he inspected it. He blew gently on the metal. Whatever this did seemed to satisfy him.
“I’m Sant–”
“BROK!” he yelled.
Before I could ask what this meant, the dwarves near us started chanting, “BROK! BROK! BROK . . .”
The chant quickly picked up traction until it seemed all the dwarves were repeating it.
“Do you know what that means?” I asked Hen.
“Do I look like a fairy to you?” she retorted.
For his part, Corbyn looked too petrified to say anything.
I tried to get their attention again, but it was in vain. Soon, I noticed another disturbance in the crowd. It looked like a half dozen dwarves were approaching and, unlike earlier, the multitude parted for them. The chant grew louder as they approached.
“BROK! BROK! BROK! BROK!”
James looked nervous, Corbyn petrified. Hen, on the other hand, smirked. She caught my eye, leaned over, and said, “Be confident!”
“Does that help?” I asked.
“Faking confidence always works!”
I decided not to argue.
Soon, several dwarves with golden armor emerged, followed by two more dwarves with identical golden headpieces. These were also dressed in plated gold, but their armor was super ornate, etched with drawings. These two absolutely owned the room, the other dwarves dipping their heads reverentially as they passed.
Seemed like a safe bet these two were the dwarf king and queen.
The king’s dark skin was etched with lines, his beard was long, dark gray, and lavishly braided, reaching down to his knees. His coal eyes were deep set—intense but not unfriendly. The queen was light skinned with wild red hair and a disapproving look in her cutting emerald eyes, a couple scars on her face. They stared at us fiercely, evoking a wild sort of energy. I knew right away I didn’t want to cross these two.
The queen raised a fist and the entire group hushed quite suddenly. After being yelled at constantly since we’d arrived, the silence was unnerving.
I don’t think I’d ever seen a female dwarf in any movies, but looking around more closely, I realized that many of the dwarves I’d assumed were men, were actually women, many of them with long, curly hair tied under their chins like beards.
“Why have humans invaded our realm?” the dwarf king thundered.
“And interrupted our supper,” the queen added in a rich alto. “Were you hoping to stand in as replacements? You’re all a bit scrawny but I’m not a picky eater.” This was greeted by grunts of laughter.
I swallowed. “Hey there, your highnesses–”
“Lownesses!” Corbyn squeaked.
“Lownesses,” I corrected. “I’m um, happy to meet you.”
Next to me, James slapped his forehead as the torch flame flickered green momentarily.
“And I’d be happy to eat you,” the queen said.
The king grinned and elbowed her. “Come now, Nich, let the young morsel, I mean, the young man speak.”
“I hope you’re joking,” James said, voice high-pitched.
The royals smirked and I wasn’t sure if they were sharing a joke, or a mutual interest in dinner.
I hurried on. “I’m sorry for interrupting, but I was hoping to get some information from you in exchange for this torch of Puritans– I mean purity.”
The torch flickered purple again and I realized it was responding to what I was saying somehow. The dwarf king was eyeing the flame closely.
“You wish to exchange what is ours for what is also ours?” Queen Nich asked. “I can’t say I find this more tempting than dinner.”
“The torch . . . is already yours?”
“Are those human letters engraved on the side?” the king asked.
I looked at them and realized they were, indeed, very similar to the markings on the compass.
“Sorry, I didn’t realize–”
“You casually drop in on the monarchs of the dwarven realm with a stolen gift you know nothing about,” the queen said. “Did you even know our names before arriving?”
“You’ve both got . . . nice names,” the flame flickered green. I hurried on. “You’re Queen Nich, right? And King . . .” I could feel my whole face contort. “Brok?”
“You didn’t answer my question,” she said.
I sighed, suddenly sick of all the evading I’d done this past week. “You’re right, I didn’t. I barely know anything about you guys at all, but I’m out of time and options.”
“Do you know what you hold in your hands?” King Brok asked.
“The Torch of Purity?”
“Yes, but do you know what it does?” the queen pressed.
Her question was all it took for me to realize the answer—and it seemed laughably obvious. “I think it’s turning purple when I tell the truth and turning green when I lie.” It turned purple again. “Is it really yours?”
“Yes,” the king and queen answered together.
“Then here you go,” I said, offering it to them. “I swear I didn’t know it was stolen.”
The king and queen looked at each other, neither of them moving. “For now,” the king said. “We are content that you hold it. Who are you and what brings you to our realm?”
“I’m Santiago from the Underland. This is my stepbrother James, and our friends Corbyn and Hen from Flamingo Springs.” There were murmurs among the dwarves around us and I decided to go for broke. “Listen, I’m in way over my head and need help. Do you know anything about the Pearls of Prescott?”
Immediately, anger glinted in the eyes of the king and queen. “CLEAR THE GREAT HALL!” Queen Nich bellowed.
Immediately armor clinked and boots thundered on the rocky ground as hundreds of dwarves began disappearing into doors and up stairwells. The queen and king took several paces away from us, speaking urgently to each other as their guards encircled us, glaring.
“Hey, at least they stopped talking about eating us,” Hen said cheerily.
“I don’t think that’s off the table yet,” James said, then added, “Pun intended.”
The king and queen turned to us once again. The king made a gesture and the guards backed out of earshot.
“Tell me now why I should not throw you from our mountain right now,” the queen said angrily.
“Sorry?” I said, taking a step back.
“If we had the pearls in our possession, what would you do? Try to steal them?” she asked.
“N-no,” I said.
“Then why are you here, Santiago of the Underland?” the king pressed.
“The city council asked me to try to find them,” I stuttered.
“They asked a child?” the queen asked with a tone of incredulity.
“I’m the Seer of Flamingo Springs. I’m just not very good at it.” There was part of me hoping that the flame would turn green at this last part. But it stayed purple. Stupid flame.
“You’ve only been on the job for a week,” James said. “Give yourself a break.”
I took a deep breath, trying not to panic. “Bess, the old Seer—I mean, the former Seer—gave me the mantle. The city council didn’t like that I was an Underlander so they told me if I could find the Pearls, then I could stay Seer. They said that the Pearls would help the flyland prosper again. If I can’t find them, they’ll give the job to Misty and they’ll . . .” my voice caught. I massaged my thighs and continued. “They’ll wipe my memories.”
This all came tumbling out of my mouth. Lucky for me, the torch flame remained purple. Once again, the king and queen looked at each other, as though conversing with their eyes.
“Misty would probably do a much better job than me. I bet she’s supposed to be the real Seer,” I was surprised when I saw the flame turn green. What?! Of course Misty would make a better Seer than me. Right?
“I promise, I haven’t come here to steal anything,” I continued. “If you can help me find the necklace, I’d appreciate it. If I can return them, even better. But I promise I won’t try to steal anything from you.”
“What happens if you learn we have it but go back to your city council empty-handed?” the king asked.
“They’ll probably wipe my memory and send me back.”
The two dwarves were quiet again for a long moment. I noticed Hen’s smirk was finally gone. Corbyn was poking his head up over her shoulder.
Finally, King Brok murmured, “Trust the honest seeker.”
“But he’s being used and doesn’t even know it,” Queen Nich said.
“Used?” I repeated.
The king regarded them for a few moments before speaking. “Generations ago, my great great great grandmother, Queen Huk, received a set of pearls from Arnold the Adventurer. He told her that the world must be protected from the evil they represented. He warned us that if the Pearls of Prescott should fall into the hands of the power-hungry then captivity and bondage would result.”
Queen Nich continued the story. “From generation to generation, the dwarven royalty have personally safeguarded this secret.”
“So you have the Pearls of Prescott?” I asked.
The king and queen looked at each other again before the king continued. “Three weeks ago, someone broke into my private chambers and stole the necklace.”
“The Pearls of Prescott . . . were stolen?” James said.
“The necklace received by Brok’s great-great-great-grandmother was stolen,” the queen said.
“Do you know who did it?”
“A Sombra,” the Dwarf King said.
I exchanged looks with my friends. Corbyn looked, if possible, more nervous.
“Do you know what the Pearls actually do?” I asked.
“We already know that they can lead you to what you want the most,” James added.
“Don’t tell them,” Queen Nich said.
“I am the custodian. It’s my choice,” King Brok said quietly. Nich didn’t look happy about it, but didn’t argue. He turned to us. “You must swear never to divulge the information to anybody.”
“I promise I won’t let anyone know what they do,” I said as the flame turned purple once again.
“Do you two also swear it?” the queen asked the others. “If so, take the torch and tell me so.”
I passed the torch to James and then to Hen and Corbyn, who all agreed to the same terms before handing the torch back to me.
Brok looked at Nich, who nodded. “We are not certain how, but the Pearls force people to obey the wearer,” Brok said.
I felt my eyebrows shoot up.
“They control people?” Hen asked.
“Yes. That is why they cannot be allowed to fall into the wrong hands.”
This took a few moments to sink in before I nodded in agreement.
“It is time for you to go,” King Brok said.
“Before we change our mind about dinner,” Queen Nich said.
“Can I return this to you now?” I asked, holding out the torch.
The queen took it, looking at the markings with a curious expression.
“Wait,” James said. “When I asked if the pearls were stolen, you said that the necklace given to King Brok’s great-great-great-grandmother was stolen.”
“Yes, that is what I said,” the queen said as the flame turned purple.
James waited as though expecting more, but neither of them offered any further information. The king asked, “What is your other question?”
“Do you really eat people?” James asked.
The king and queen chortled.
“Go,” the king said with a hungry grin. “Or you’ll find out.”
The queen raised a hand and several guards advanced and started herding us back toward the entry. The king and queen stalked away at a brisk pace.
“Lovely meeting all of you!” Hen called back.