Gadlin

Gadlin And The Kid

by Bob Liddil

Gadlin the dwarf snoozed in the afternoon sun, his chair leaned back against the wall outside the Black Boar Inn. His too short legs dangled far above the wooden walkway. His snoring could be heard all the way across the street. No matter. No one in his right mind would a sleeping dwarf.

Around a corner and into the alley that ran between the inn and the mapmaker’s shop, five figures hugged a wall and inched their way toward the street. They moved and breathed as one, closing a trap that had taken them hours to prepare. As soon as the one in the lead reached the corner, he signaled for the others to halt. Then he peeked around for a better view, most of which was taken up by a very soundly sleeping dwarf.

Ambush! The sudden burst of high-pitched blood curdling screams brought Gadlin from deep sleep to full awake in half a second. His chair clattered onto the walkway. His sword was drawn and he had in his eye the killer look that bade his enemies beware.

But the ambush wasn’t for the dwarf. Five boys of various ages and sizes had burst out of the alley and piled onto a sixth, kicking, punching, and screaming at the top of their lungs. Gadlin laughed, sheathed his weapon and waded to the rescue. Five on one was bad odds and the diminutive fighter had been on the bottom of more of these kinds of pile-ups than he would ever care to count.

Picking each attacker up in turn by his handiest appendage, Gadlin tossed the entire group like small potato bags in various directions until he finally uncovered the victim. Two of the five were bold enough to try for last hits and were met with hard kicks on the rear for their effort.

"You boys get out of here," snapped Gadlin, " before I get mad."

"You’re going to pay for this, dwarf!" The leader of the group spat his wrath with venom in his voice.

Gadlin bent over and picked up a smooth stone from off the dirt street. He winged it in the direction of the now retreating gang, causing the leader to have to dance out of the way. If looks could kill, Gadlin would have been a dead dwarf. They retreated further, out of stone’s throwing distance, finally disappearing down a side alley.

The rescued boy was a mess. What looked to have been clean clothes were now both dirty and torn. One eye was puffed up, his nose was bleeding One of his front teeth seemed to have assumed a new angle. Plus, he was angry, hiccupping and crying, all three at once.

"I could’ve taken them," he managed to get out. His voice was high and squeaky. He was young - very young, probably not much more than eleven and small, not much taller than Gadlin, who was very short indeed.

"You’re welcome, I’m sure." Gadlin retorted, gruffly, but not unkindly, "Now go on home, before they come back." Without waiting to see if he would be obeyed, the dwarf wheeled and strode under the swinging doors into the tavern in pursuit of a cold beer.

Later that afternoon, his thirst slaked, the dwarf took once again to his chair, determined to resume his nap. He had already forgotten about the incident with the boy. Settled comfortably in the sun, he was just about asleep again when a shadow fell across him. Before he could react, a blacksnake whip whistled through the air and cracked within an inch of his ear. The explosion of sound jolted action through his body like a bolt of lightning.

Gadlin rolled to his right, away from the whip, and down onto the boardwalk, then up onto his feet in an instant. Dagger in one hand, sword in the other, he faced his enemy, ready to kill anyone who moved. But instead of an assassin, or some deadly fighter armed to the teeth for war, he found himself facing a young wrangler, not even bearded yet, armed only with a hand staff and a horse whip.

"Flames in the netherhells!" Gadlin swore, "Are you insane??"

It was a perfectly logical question. Everyone living in the village that surrounded the Black Boar Inn was more than well acquainted with Gadlin the dwarf, having either witnessed or heard first hand reports of his fighting prowess. This new enemy was, to Gadlin, either a stranger or an idiot.

The youth at the other end of the whip, although having second thoughts, was nonetheless brave. That has to be given. He brought back his left hand and snapped the blacksnake again, this time landing a hit on Gadlin (albeit absorbed by the dwarf’s leather shirt). Then, he followed with the staff, driving a solid clout right down on the top of the astonished dwarf’s head.

A wave of red fury washed over Gadlin. He pressed into his attacker with both sword and dagger blurred in their motion. The sword cleaved his opponent’s staff an inch above a grasping hand, snapping it like a dried twig. The dagger sliced through the whip an inch above the handle. Gadlin's boot landed an unbelievably hard blow on the lad’s ankle and he toppling him like a tree. Seconds later, dagger and sword points were touching an unprotected chest.

"Yield or die!" commanded the dwarf.

"I yield." sputtered the attacker, "I yield, don’t kill me."

"Get up," the dwarf ordered, "you have some explaining to do." Now the heat of combat was spent and he could see that his adversary was barely more than a child.

The youth fished into a pocket and brought forth a single silver coin. "I was given this," came the explanation. "All I was supposed to do was scare you."

Gadlin studied his adversary intently. Fear danced in the attacker’s eyes and Gadlin could see that, as well as the obvious fact that this youth was unseasoned.

"Let me give you a little piece of advice, boy." Gadlin said quietly, "Never take a job until you know everything about what you’re going to be doing. And never..." He paused and sheathed his weapons. "Never judge an enemy by his size or how helpless he seems to be."

Out of the corner of his eye, Gadlin could see among the crowd gathering, the leader and several of the gang from earlier in the afternoon.

"Go inside," Gadlin gestured toward the swinging doors, "and tell the barkeep that your pint is on Gadlin the dwarf. Ask him to explain to you just how close to death you came just now." Then as an afterthought, he added, "And don’t give back that silver. You earned it. I’m awake now."

The youth gathered the pieces of his weapons and scurried into the Black Boar Inn. The crowd that had gathered dispersed, except for the gang of five, who had quietly hung back. The leader stepped boldly forward - but not too close - a defiant expression on his face.

"This isn’t over yet, dwarf," he said. "We’re going to get you."

Gadlin growled and took a start toward them. They scattered like tumbleweeds, disappearing in all directions.

Once again, Gadlin resumed his chair, this time muttering to himself about what a crazy place the world is becoming. “ Boys hiring amateur assassins,” he growled inaudibly, “to harass innocent dwarves.” He shook his head in disbelief and closed his eyes.

“All I want is a nap.” Gadlin mumbled. “Is that too much to ask?” It did not seem so to the many pedestrians who were giving him a wide berth.

The rest of the afternoon was uneventful. But the dwarf still kept a wary eye cast about him as he sat out balance of the day. As night fell over the low desert, the sky turned a dozen shades of red, tinted at the edges with silver. Then, with a single flash of blue, the sunset began to fade.

"They say it brings good luck, you know." The voice was that of the lad Gadlin had rescued earlier in the day.

"What brings good luck?" Gadlin asked pleasantly. The youngster was cleaned up now, not bloody any more and much easier to understand now that his hiccups were gone. He seemed different, older, perhaps, without tears streaming down his face.

"The blue flash at sunset." The boy answered, "It means the gods have gone to bed early and can’t make mischief among men."

Gadlin laughed. "The gods always make mischief, " he retorted, "They made men. Men are nothing if not mischief."

The boy laughed as well. "I wanted to thank you for helping me today," he said finally.

Gadlin wrinkled his nose and shrugged in acceptance. The boy understood. He said nothing more and just drifted away, off down the darkening street.

"Well," said Gadlin to nobody in particular after he’d gone. "So much for resting on my day of rest." Soon after, he abandoned the outside chair, in the chilling evening air, for one at his usual table inside the Black Boar Inn.

Later that night, long after Gadlin had forsaken the tavern for the bed in his room at the Black Boar Inn, five shadows skulked through the moonlit alley that separated the inn from the mapmaker’s shop. In single file order they moved, silent as ghosts, to the outside stairway that led upward to the second floor of the inn. Each was armed with dagger or other hand weapon and each wore a determined expression on his face.

They were light of foot - not a single board creaked as they climbed, not a single sound did they make. Reaching the platform at the top, they paused to breathe for a moment. Then the leader reached for the door handle and slowly began to twist.

Below, across the alley and deep enough in shadow to be invisible, a whispered incantation followed a gesture. A wisp of red magic sparkled for an instant and then sped to its destination.

The fingers on the door handle now gripped heat. They sizzled as the handle glowed red and the hand jerked away.

"Yaaaagghh!" The gang leader let out a cry of pain and jerked backward, bouncing off the railing that had been added to protect drunken inn-dwellers from falling into the alley below.

The handle’s red glow faded again, but by now there could be heard the stirring of feet from inside the corridor. The five scrambled back down the stairs, sprinted the length of the alley and scattered uttering curses as they fled. Above, someone came out onto the platform with a candle and peered downward to see what all the fuss was about. Seeing nothing, he muttered something unintelligible and went back inside.

Only after a few more moments of no further activity from up the stairs or in the alley did the very small figure, dressed all in black, emerge from his hiding place. He pondered his handiwork for a second or two more, and then said aloud to no one in particular in a high, soft squeaky voice, "Well what do you know? The spell works." The sorcerer's youngest apprentice then made a clean getaway into the darkness.

Gadlin, of course, slept through the whole night undisturbed.