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Chapter Fourteen

Killian led them away from the village, into the mountainous terrain of the island. The air was clearer but the sky was dark and foreboding. From the moment they stepped off the Jolly, they had seen no vegetation of any kind.

"Is this whole island a pile of pebbles and rocks?" asked Emma.

"Yes," was Killian's simple answer.

"No wonder people say it's cursed," mumbled Emma.

"Indeed," said Killian.

"Why is it cursed?" asked Henry.

"Allegedly cursed, Lad," corrected Killian. "Legends say a powerful race of dwarves lived here. They loved their riches and mineral ores. They did not take kindly to other races, mostly humans, coming to claim what they believed was theirs. Though no one has ever seen one, they supposedly still toil away deep in the ground."

Emma scowled as they slowly made their way up the cliffs. "Is the ground getting darker? It is, it's getting blacker. Why would anyone, dwarf or not, live here?"

"The ore is very valuable, Love. People are willing to carve out a rough existence for riches." He stopped, looking around. "It is a sad, desolate place. Nothing grows here, as you observed, Emma. That is why the stories exist."

"To explain why it's barren," said Henry. "Like myths."

"Yes, Lad." They all stood on a small ledge now.

"How much further?" asked Emma.

Killian grimaced. "Much, I'm afraid. Our quest lies close to the summit."

She sighed. "Yep, next Christmas, I select all the gifts," she told him, as she started climbing again.

"You know, you're a story," said Henry to Killian. "So are grandma and grandpa."

"Yes, Henry, but this is different," said Hook. "Of course a sword forged here, or anywhere for that matter, is going to cause a certain amount of bloodshed. The fault lies with the wielder, not the weapon, or the material from which it is made.."

Emma chuckled. "Ok, so maybe you're right and there is no curse."

"I am right," he said with a wink.

They picked along the ever growing cliffs. Higher and higher they climbed. The ground became pitch black.

Finally Killian stopped. "I think we're close."

Emma could barely breathe. "The air...it's so foul."

Henry had sagged to the ground, unable to go further.

"It's the curse," said a creaky, raspy, unkind voice. "Nothing here grows, nothing living prospers."

Henry looked up. At first he didn't see the dwarf. He was as black as his surroundings. It was only when he blinked, that Henry realized he was there.

He moved. Henry could then see him. He was about three feet tall. He had coal black hair and skin to match. Henry couldn't make out what he was wearing. He blended in perfectly. "It's...a dwarf...Killian...a dwarf."

"Easy lad, it doesn't," he said, through gasps of foul air, "mean anything."

"That's right," croaked the dwarf. "I'm a nothing."

Emma gasped. "Please...we don't...mean you harm."

The dwarf snorted. "You've come for the ore."

Killian nodded. "We have...but we...are prepared to pay, then...we'll leave you in...peace"

Again the dwarf snorted. It was a deep wheezing sound, like broken machinery. "Peace? Here? There is no peace and the curse cares not for money. The ore takes its price in other ways."

Henry began to feel faint. "Mom," he managed to get out before his head rolled back and he collapsed.

"Henry!" she cried. Instantly she and Killian forgot their fatigue and moved to the boy.

The dwarf watched them. "I told you. It's the stiff price the ore sets."

"Henry! Wake up!" Emma screamed.

"Come in, get the ore. You've earned it," he said.

Killian stared in disbelief. "The boy needs help!"

"I cannot help him. Besides, what do you care? Is not the ore all you crave?"

Killian shook his head. "We must take him down," he said, pulling the boy over his shoulder.

Emma nodded and they began to move down the cliff.

The dwarf watched their slow movement. "Wait." They looked up. "You would leave?" asked the dwarf. "You'd give up the ore for the boy?"

"He's my son!" she screamed.

"Come, Emma," said Killian, renewing his path downwards.

"Wait," said the dwarf again. "I lied. I can help you. Come in."

They hadn't got more than a few steps down the cliff, so it wasn't long before they were inside the dwarf's cave.

It was warm inside and honestly kind of cozy. The dwarf motioned to a faded, worn blanket beside a small fire in the middle of the stone floor. Dirt was everywhere, but the Dwarf had managed to keep the blanket clean.

They lay Henry on the blanket and the dwarf stoked the fire. Then he retrieved a small cup made out of some sort of metal. Inside was cool clear water. He gently dripped it into Henry's mouth.

"Thank you," Emma said.

The dwarf just grunted. He went over to a small workspace carved out of the cavern itself. One large, flat stone jutted out from the wall like a counter. Beside it were columns of small shelves. They were made of a black, shining stone like onyx. A small circular chunk of stone sat below the large stone counter. It wasn't until later when the dwarf sat on it that Emma realized it was a stool.

The dwarf took a crudely fashioned metal pot and an even cruder spoon. He put the pot on the fire then added water. "The boy needs sustenance. I wager you could all use some."

"You said nothing grows here," said Emma. "What do you eat?"

The dwarf got a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Oh, I do with what I have." He pulled a rock up, to reveal a bunch of crawling bugs.

Killian frowned.

"You are not feeding my boy bugs!"

The dwarf laughed. He dropped the rock. He then went back to the shelves. The top one was different. It had a rolling lid, that slid back as it opened. Inside were fresh carrots, potatoes, green leafy vegetables, even some very nice looking meat. He put it all in the pot.

"It comes to me," he said simply. "It's part of the curse. I cannot suffer if I die. It keeps me alive."

He stirred the stew. Then he pulled the stool over to the fire and sat. "I'm surprised you were going to give up the ore."

"I told you, he's my son. I love him."

The dwarf nodded. "That's why I'm helping you." He sighed. "The ore...it is cursed. Everything here is, the stones, the ground, me.""

Emma eyed Killian nervously.

"But the curse is not how people perceive," continued the dwarf. "It does not automatically cause death, destruction, and hardship. It only magnifies what you put into it."

"What do you mean?" asked Emma.

"Just what I said. It gives you what you crave, returns your intentions. How do you plan to use the ore? What will you fashion from it?" He looked hopefully at them. "A bowl perhaps? Maybe a nice serving tray?"

Emma would have thought that he was joking, but his tone was serious, even desperate.

Killian met the dwarf's prodding gaze. "A sword."

The dwarf grumbled. "A sword," he repeated with a heavy sigh. "I should have known. It's always some sort of weapon. Violence and power, they are what humans crave."

"No," said Killian. "The sword is not for that purpose. It will be a gift."

"For a great and noble king, I suppose," said the dwarf with a sneer.

"Actually, yes."

The dwarf laughed, cruelly.. "All kings are the same! Many have come to this forsaken place. The lucky ones die here, without getting what they seek. The unfortunate ones carry with them new, evil weapons fortified by the curse. They magnify their bloodlust! They embark on killing sprees, spreading ruin everywhere they go! The realms are cursed with the evil deeds of 'good and noble' kings!"

"The king I intend the sword for is a good man."

"He really is," said Emma. "He's my father."

The dwarf grunted.

"He has a kind, gentle nature. He is not like the tyrannical kings you and I have encountered," Killian told the dwarf. "I give the sword to him because," he looked at Emma. His face flushed. "I admire and care for him."

Emma gave him a soft, loving smile.

The dwarf watched them both. He said nothing more, just knelt down beside Henry. He gently felt the boy's head. "He does not have a fever. It must have been the foul air and exertion. Hopefully some food will give him back his strength." He then got up and tended the stew.

End of Chapter Fourteen