The Adamantine Heist

“ ‘There weren’t always dragons in the Valley,’ Mika bellowed at the top of his lungs! Oh, Kiv, you should have heard him,” Jayne Fairleaf burbled. “The walls of the tavern practically shook. And everyone laughed, which made all the veins stand out in his neck. His face flushed dark red as he shook his fist at the room. ‘But there sure as hell are dragons there now!’ he roared. And then he stormed out, slamming the tavern door behind him. The moment he was gone, everyone laughed again.”

Somewhere above Kivel Thanechild’s head, Jayne’s boots thudded across the raised wooden platform as her friend paced the circumference of the mineral bath Kivel was repairing. “I wish you’d been there to hear him,” Jayne continued. “He sounded so certain, but I also heard panic in his voice. He seemed scared to me. I don’t know what to think.”

A pause came, followed by a twisting sound of a bootheel scraping against wood. “Kiv?” she called. “Are you listening under there?”

Kivel rolled the mechanic’s cart out between the gap in the wooden boards that normally concealed the underside of the giant copper soaking tub. She pushed the face shield up on her welding helmet. “I heard you. Mika ‘Wrongsight’ thinks there are dragons in Adamantine Valley for the first time in over a century, despite the peace accords banning their presence here upon pain of literal death.”

Jayne balled her manicured hands into delicate fists and planted them on her hips, frowning down at Kivel. “Don’t call Mika that,” she said in a reproving voice. “It’s mean.”

“It’s true,” Kivel countered, pulling off her work gloves and tucking them into the pockets of her grease-stained coverall. Jayne made a huffing sound. “Fine, fine, Mika Longsight as you please.” Kivel didn’t roll her eyes. Fools like the brewmaster weren’t worthy of her scorn. “He claims to see giants in the mountain passes during spring runoff and leviathans hunting in the westerly waves each fall. You could set a clock to his nonsense.”

“I suppose,” Jayne acknowledged as Kivel got off the cart and began putting her welding torch and wrenches back into her tool case. “But you weren’t there.” She shuddered. “He scared me.”

Kivel shrugged. It doesn’t take much to scare you, she thought but didn’t say.

Tall and gentle as a maple sapling, Jayne had never worked a shift in the mines. Few humans did. Instead, her parents, wealthy gem merchants, took her south after grammar school to see the empire’s sprawling mercantile cities. She’d seized on the idea of opening a Shartastian mineral bath and returned to Adamantine Valley brimming with plans and excitement.

Half the town had laughed at her. The other half thought her enthusiasm woefully misguided.

Kivel thought the idea was genius. And she understood exactly why her dwarven kin didn’t see it.

To them, the Dragon Wars had been a vicious, millennia-spanning conflict that raged across the empire’s southern and western continents for as long as Thanes had ruled under the mountain. War had even claimed the life of Emerin Thane, Kivel’s grandmother, and indelibly shaped her childhood. But the wars had been over for over a century, and the rebel dragon prince and his court followers were dead or exiled. With them gone, the Shartastian Empire had entered a new age of commerce, powered by the steam inventions in which Kivel’s clan specialized.

Inventions exactly like the baths Kivel had decided to build for Jayne.

The valley’s older dwarves, who made up most of the townspeople, thought her mad. They couldn’t appreciate that for young humans like her friend, the wars were not a living memory but ancient history. What sense was there in holding onto the past?

In truth, the only flaw in Jayne’s success was that all the increased guest traffic meant the older baths Kivel had built first with salvaged, antiquated parts had seen far more use than she’d ever anticipated. Which meant Jayne frequently had to send runners to fetch Kivel from the mountain whenever the baths broke and needed fixing.

“I thought you’d be down in the depths today,” Jayne said, leaning against the empty tub. “I was half expecting you to send someone else.”

I almost did, Kivel thought. Her father, Narren Thane, had banned the sale of adamantine to outsiders following his mother’s death by dragon fire, but that didn’t mean the clan had stopped mining it. Nor did being the thane's daughter exclude Kivel from the labour lottery. Her last pull had been an eighteen-hour double shift in the darkness of the mountain’s most treacherous eastern shafts, which was the only place where adamantine could still be found.

The metal was the secret to her clan’s ingenuity. Its alchemical properties powered their inventions as beautifully as it had once augmented the weapons used by both sides in the Dragon Wars. But such secrets weren’t spoken about to outsiders, even to friends as trusted as Jayne.

Aloud, she merely said, “I needed a break. Traded some shifts.”

Folding her arms, Jayne crouched down to peer into the gap under the bath, the largest of the three hot pools. “Do you have much more to do?”

“Nah,” Kivel told her, tucking the cart into its place under the bath to await her next visit. “But that main pipe needs to be replaced soon.” She hefted the first wooden board and slid it and its companions back into their grooved slots. “I’ll put the order in with the shop this week. That way, we’ll be ready to do the work during your downturn after the fall equinox.”

Jayne squealed in delight, throwing an arm around Kivel’s shoulders. “You’re the best,” she said, planting a kiss on her temple. “What would I do without you?”

“Lose your business to a flood after a burst pipe,” Kivel answered matter-of-factly, squirming out of Jayne’s grasp. Wordlessly, she gestured at the gauzy emerald and gold shawl Jayne was wearing and then at her grimy coverall. “I need to clean up.”

Jayne nodded, still beaming. “Do you want to use the showers? Or do you have time to surf?”

“Surf,” Kivel answered automatically. Not even a resurrected dragon would stop her from going below again without experiencing the waves beneath her board and the feel of wind on her face. “I’ll shower all this and the salt off later.”

Making their way to the locker at the back of the bath complex took forever. By the time Jayne had exchanged pleasantries with the guests wandering the grounds and issued last-minute orders to the staff currently on duty, the sun was sliding toward the horizon.

They changed into oiled wetsuits and grabbed their boards. As Kivel followed Jayne down the switch-back staircases that led from the back of the baths down the cliffs to the sea, the burnished light caught the golden highlights in her friend’s spiral curls. Jayne’s hair was currently the shining green of midsummer, though it would brighten to autumn gold and then darken to a rich auburn in the fall. In winter, it would turn the brownish black of leaf-bare branches before fading to the bone white of snow. When spring came, it would assume the fresh glow of pale green buds.

Jayne pretended that her shifting hair colour came out of a box. Hiring aestheticians for the baths had been part of her cover story. In the post-war empire, claiming anything other than full human or dwarven status meant heavy taxes. The two groups comprised the bulk of the Shartastian population and wanted no foreign conflicts to erupt again within their lands.

Kivel was one of the few in the valley who knew the truth about Jayne’s family. Her great-great grandmother had babysat Kivel when she was a wee dwarf in the mountain’s nursery, just learning the feel of a hammer in her palm. She didn’t remember much about the woman, but she did remember her long curling hair that changed colours with the seasons. As she liked to tell Jayne whenever occasion demanded, ‘That woman was a full dryad or I’m a goat.’

“Kiv!” Jayne called, already knee-deep in surf. “Stop woolgathering! Hurry up!”

“Coming,” Kivel shouted back, barreling into the ocean as quickly as her shorter legs would carry her.

She paddled out through the waves behind Jayne, past the edge of the reef where the deeper swells formed. Once there, Kivel thought of nothing but timing her jump up onto the next perfect crest.

* * *

At twilight, Kivel happily slogged back to shore with Jayne, exhausted but happy. A dozen bonfire pits maintained by the town dotted the beach. The nearest one was ringed with people in wetsuits, bathing suits, and a range of other beach attire. Kivel even spotted a few dark green heads in the crowd. We haven’t had a grove of dryads come through in ages, she thought. Maybe they’ll stay for the rest of surf season.

She turned to point them out to Jayne, but her friend was already bartering with the bonfire’s host, prettily offering to pay for their share of the food being roasted. As always, her cash was waived away. No surfer wanted to alienate the mistress of the baths with the autumn surf season—and its more challenging, treacherous waves—still to come.

It’s more than that, Kivel reflected as she chewed a piece of game hen, licking the savoury juice that trickled from the plump meat down to her wrist. Jayne was popular in a way that Kivel could never be. She puts people at ease.

“Ooooooh, look, there’s Mika come back for more!” a surfer on Kivel’s left crowed, pointing with his stick across the fire. Kivel didn’t recognize the speaker or the style of his wetsuit. Maybe he came into town with the visiting dryads, she mused as she leaned to the right for a better view. Through the twisting heads of the crowd, she caught a glimpse of the bald brewmaster walking up the beach with his surfboard tucked under one thickly muscled arm.

“Leave that fool alone, Bennis,” another surfer muttered. “He’s leaving.”

“Hey, Wrongsight!” Bennis shouted, undeterred. He flicked his hair, a sun-bleached pale green, off his face with an arrogant tilt of his head and grinned. “Spot any dragons in the sea tonight?”

Mika’s back stiffened before he glanced back at the bonfire. As Kivel studied his posture in the reflected firelight, she frowned. He does look scared, she thought as raucous laughter erupted around her. Why?

“Stop it,” Jayne scolded the group in an undertone. “Don’t be cruel.”

“Come off it, Jayne. You were in the tavern last night, weren’t you?” put in Arik StoneForge, one of the older miners whom Kivel didn’t know well. He snorted and spat in the fire. “Never heard such foolishness in all my days.” Around him, the group chorused agreement.

Unsettled, Kivel rose from her place, continuing to follow Mika with her eyes as he departed along one of the paved walkways that lead from the beach back to the main valley road.

What did he see? Kivel wondered, struck by the defeated hunch of his shoulders. Why is he so certain?

She wasn’t the only one to watch the brewmaster with curiosity. On the fire’s other side, one of the green-haired newcomers had also risen. His wetsuit was open to his waist, revealing a strong chest covered in the same dark green hair. Normally, Kivel would have enjoyed the view, but there was an alertness in the way the stranger watched Mika climb the path through cool, narrowed eyes that set her teeth on edge.

Between them, the fire popped, drawing the surfer’s attention back to the group. He seemed to notice Kivel watching and hastily sat down, avoiding her gaze.

Something’s off, Kivel decided. And if there’s trouble in the valley, the clan must know.

Throwing her stick and paper napkin into the flames, she stepped around the circle of bodies to crouch by Jayne. “I’ve got to go,” she whispered into her friend’s ear. “Charm someone into helping you carry my board up the hill, hey?”

“I’ll come with you,” Jayne began.

Kivel laid a strong hand on her narrow wrist. If there was trouble, the last thing she wanted was Jayne underfoot. “Stay. I’ll come back in the morning and check on that bath for you.”

Sighing, Jayne sat back on her hands in the sand. “I wish you weren’t so stubborn.”

“It’s my only charm,” Kivel grinned. “See you tomorrow.”

As she walked away over the sand, a haughty voice called out, “Don’t trouble yourself with Mika, princess. He’s not worth your time.”

Kivel froze. Princess, she thought, seething. Monarchy was a holdover draconic concept.

Slowly, she turned. To her surprise, the speaker wasn’t Bennis, but the green-haired surfer. Idiot tree man. Go back where you came from. He met her angry gaze steadily, seemingly amused by her fury.

“How about you look after your business, friend,” she shouted back, flexing her strong fingers to make her knuckles crack. “And leave me to mine.”

Turning her back, Kivel headed after Mika, trying to ignore the sound of Jayne’s voice as she did her best to smooth over Kivel’s gaffe. And that is exactly why I’m not popular.

* * *

Kivel took pains to give Mika a long lead as she followed him into and through the streets of Adamantine Valley’s town. She trailed him past the mineral baths and the tavern, past inns, shops, and residences, and into the edges of the lush redwood forest that covered the valley below the mountain’s slopes.

The path was thick with tall ferns. Kivel moved silently through them, letting the soft earth muffle the sound of her bare feet. Unlike humans, dwarves had hard soles that rarely needed to be shod outside the mines, and she was glad of it as she trailed Mika deeper into the forest.

Night fell and the moon rose as Mika led her across three wide glades and over two streams before he stopped beside an outcropping of rock. “I know you’re there, Thanechild,” he called in a soft voice. “Why have you come?”

Stooping to pick up a thick stick, Kivel advanced. “To see what you saw.”

He nodded as she approached. “In my experience, dwarves are wise and cautious people.”

“And we don’t put in much for flattery,” she said crisply. “What did you see and where?”

“Hush,” he said, pointing down the path. In a whisper, he continued, “Three sets of silver scales coiled in one of the deep coombes, just ahead. I’ll take you.”

Impossible, Kivel thought. He’s lying. He must be. But she forced herself to nod. “Let’s see then. If you’re right, you’ll be handsomely rewarded. You have my word.”

He looked pained. “I don’t want your money. If dragons have returned to the valley—” he swallowed hard. “Well, there’ll be no end of trouble for us all. Come.”

Quiet as a soundtapper testing a mine shaft for signs of a collapse, Mika led her onward. The meandering path they followed took them within feet of the ocean cliffs, and Kivel could hear the waves booming against the rocks below. She was grateful for the sound, figuring it would cover the noise of Mika’s panting. He was sweating more than either the hike or the night warranted, too. The longer they walked, the more uneasy she felt.

I shouldn’t have come alone, she thought as her stomach slowly twisted itself into a knot. I should have sent word to the mountain for help.

Don’t be stupid, she told herself. Mika would have vanished if you’d waited and then you wouldn’t have found anything out here. Jayne will raise the alarm if you don’t come back.

“There,” Mika breathed as he crouched by the trunk of an enormous tree. The hand he pointed over the ferns shook as Kivel followed the line of his finger. “See?”

For a moment, she saw nothing but moonlight dappling the leaves. A few moments later, however, her dark vision blinked into place. Kivel bit back a gasp.

Coiled around the trees were three massive, scaled bodies, emitting enough heat that staring at them tinted her vision red. “Dragons,” she breathed as the world seemed to lurch around her. “By the forges, what are they doing here?”

“We’ve come for your adamantine, naturally,” said a clear voice from behind them.

Kivel spun on her heel, the cudgel in her hands automatically coming up in a posture of defense until she saw who stood behind them on the path.

Jayne, her eyes wide with fear above the scarf tied around her mouth. On her right was Bennis with a grin on his lips.

And on her friend’s left was the green-haired surfer. One of his long, elegant hands was raised to her throat. And at the ends of his fingers were five sharp claws instead of nails, each pressed into Jayne’s tanned skin.

“Dragon fae!” Kivel blurted. No dryad she’d ever seen had claws like that. And only dragons born to the ancient royal bloodlines could take human form. “Which makes you . . .”

“Sorentethorath, Prince of the Fallen West. You may address me as Soren.”

Dear gods below. Kivel took a step back. “You’re supposed to be dead.”

“So the empire decreed,” Prince Soren agreed, his melodic voice pleasing to her ear. Kivel longed to club that sardonic smile clean off his handsome face. She might have tried it, but his draconic companions chose that moment to slide out of the darkness, their massive heads looming above the path. She dared one glance up and saw three pairs of slit-pupiled eyes studying her as Soren tightened his grip on Jayne’s neck. “We disagreed.”

“Kivvvvvvv,” Jayne murmured around her gag, the whites of her eyes glowing in the moonlight as she trembled in Soren’s grasp.

“We’re going to be okay, Jayne,” Kivel promised through gritted teeth, completely unable to see any way that this horrendous situation could possibly be okay. She glanced at Mika Longsight, hoping to find an ally, and saw guilt written in every line of his treacherous face.

Trap, she thought bitterly.

Aloud, she said in the calmest voice she could muster, “I’m getting us out of this mess.”

“Indeed,” Prince Soren told her in that maddening voice. “We’ll release your friend after you help us enter the mountain and take the adamantine your father denied me, Kivel Thanechild.”

It was death to bring outsiders into the mine. Every Thanechild carried a cyanide capsule secreted away in a back molar to prevent exactly this type of breach in their security. But suicide would not save Jayne. And she didn’t know what Mika had already told them.

Kivel stood to her full five feet. “And if I refuse?”

Moonlight flashed on Prince Soren’s claws as he shifted his hand on Jayne’s neck, so his fingers were hovering right over her jugular vein. “I’ll rip her lovely throat out while you watch,” he said in that same easy voice. “Then, my friends and I will take a swim in the sea and flood your prosperous little town. After that, we’ll coat your mine’s ventilation shafts in fire. And yes, thanks to Mika here, I know exactly where they are.”

Blood surged hot in Kivel’s veins. But clubbing Mika to death or puncturing the tooth would not save Jayne or her people.

Think, fool, she told herself. They’re cocky. Play for time. “I suppose I have no choice.”

“Wise decision, princess,” Soren said, and smiled as she bristled.

Turning to Bennis, the prince pointed his chin at Kivel, never relinquishing his hold on Jayne. “Bind her wrists and blindfold our guests for the march to camp. We must be swift.”

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Thanks so much for reading! I really enjoyed writing this challenge. If you think I should continue, hit the like button or drop a comment. It'll help me know if there's an audience for this kind of story.

If you'd like to more on how I came up with this premise, check out my blog at emwilliams.ca.

I'm also the author of Chaos Calling: Book I of The Xenthian Cycle, an action fantasy novel set in contemporary Toronto with a diverse and global cast. It's available now on Amazon as an ebook and for Kindle Unlimited. Paperback's coming later in June 2022!

Happy reading!

emw