At Speculative Chic, we feature a lot of authors who share everything from their favorite things to the inspiration for their work. But why not also share their fiction? Welcome to Fiction Friday, where you’ll be able to sample the fiction of a variety of authors, including those who write at Speculative Chic! Today, we’re featuring Sherry Peters, whose name you may recognize from her monthly columns at Speculative Chic. What you may not know about Sherry is — in addition to be a writing coach — is the author of The Ballad of Mabel Goldenaxe series, starting with Mabel the Lovelorn Dwarf.
About the Book
Mabel the Lovelorn Dwarf (2014)
Written by: Sherry Peters
Genre: Fantasy
Pages: 368
Series: Book 1 of The Ballad of Mabel Goldenaxe
Publisher: Dwarvenamazon
Mabel Goldenaxe just doesn’t fit in with the other girl dwarves — and she likes it that way. To please her father, and encouraged by her older brothers, she goes to work in the emerald mines. Still, she dreams of a better life — and becoming Gilliam’s top axe-throwing champion just might be her ticket out. Mabel is torn between her love of the sport — and her love for the elf Aramis. But loving an elf is forbidden. Dealing with her overbearing family, jealous friends, and deep family secrets, Mabel will have to summon all her strength to conquer her fears and become her own dwarf — lovelorn or otherwise.
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Mabel the Lovelorn Dwarf Excerpt
Chapter 1
Cap on straight, beard brushed and worked into two thin braids, I bounded down the stairs. Da and my twelve brothers all grinned at me from the kitchen table, even the ones who were usually sleeping by now after working the night shift.
“Look at you,” Max said, pushing me down onto the bench between him and Bernie.
Kenneth reached over the table and tugged on the two braids in my beard. “Hoping to attract a mate on your first day?” he asked.
I smacked his hand away. My beard was still on the scraggly side and I couldn’t risk losing any of it if he accidentally pulled too hard.
“Taking her duty seriously,” Billy said. “That’s what I like to see. Well done, Sis.”
I beamed as I helped myself to a heaping plate of eggs, sausages, and toast.
“Mabel, we are so proud of you.” Da set a soft brown leather bag beside me. Inside were brand new pick-axes, hammers — everything I needed. “A little something in honor of your first day as a miner.”
Some might think that this wouldn’t be a big deal to me because I come from a family of miners. Certainly, as the youngest I’d seen enough of my brothers receive such a gift on their first day at the mines to know that this was standard. It was part of the rite of passage for those lucky enough to enter the mines and therefore not one to be taken lightly. Especially by me. Not too long ago, it had been a very real possibility that I might not be hired for the mines. As the only female in the family, it was my duty to carry the family name and reputation on my shoulders. The shame would have been unbearable if I hadn’t made it to this day.
I would never take being a miner for granted.
“Thank you so much. I can’t believe it. I just…thank you,” I said.
“You’re a Goldenaxe, Mabel,” Bernie smiled. “Believe it.” He kissed the top of my head and went upstairs.
Danny, Wilbur, Bobby and Billy all patted me on the back, grumbled congratulations, and retreated to their beds. Their staying up for me filled me with pride. They’d done this for each other on the first day at the mines. I would have thought they’d be tired of doing this by the time my turn came along.
I helped myself to a few extra pancakes, and passed a few to Ross and Max. I needed the fortification for strength, but also to make my belly stouter. Strength and stoutness were important for mining. They were also what would make me attractive to potential mates. A thicker beard and a lower voice would help with that too, but I couldn’t control those.
“My dearest Mabel,” Da said. Were those tears in the corners of his eyes, or was it moisture from the steam in the kitchen? “Your mam — ” He stopped himself. He hadn’t meant to mention her. I could tell by the way he pressed his lips together. He had relaxed too much, let some part of a secret slip and now he wished he could suck it back in.
I clutched my fork, every muscle in my body tense. Mam died when I was little more than an infant. I used to ask about her, but Da and my brothers would just scowl and change the subject. Eventually I gave up. So why would he mention her now? Unless there was something I needed to know about her before I started work, something that could affect my prospects at finding a mate. I knew the chief foreman had hesitated hiring me because my mam hadn’t been a miner. Would her career choice and early death mar my mating prospects? “What about her?”
“Nothing.” Da turned back to the griddle.
He had brought her up. I couldn’t let him change the subject now. Not if it would affect my future and that of my family. “No, really. What about her?”
He scraped the iron pan. He didn’t want to tell me, but he had to, and he knew it. “I’m sorry, pet.” He put the spatula down. “You look so much like she did on her first day at the mines. It reminded me of how she and I would hold you in our arms and dream of the future you would have, and here it is. She would have been as proud of you as we all are.”
Mam was a miner? But the chief foreman had no record of her. Why had Da lied to me about her? Why was he so dismissive of such big news? Something wasn’t right about any of this. I looked to my brothers for help, especially Max, who was closest to me in age, and just as curious about Mam. They all kept their heads down, shoveling food in their mouths, including Max.
“I’m sorry,” Da said and pointed to the braids in my beard. “This is your big day. You have more important things to worry about than your still-grieving da.”
The message was clear enough: The time had come for me to step up and find a mate to carry on the family line; the duty of female dwarves. And now that I was a miner, I could find a respectable mate; maybe even improve on the family name and reputation.
My oldest brother Frankie tapped me on the shoulder, “Let’s go.”
Go? In that moment, I forgot all about my conversation with Da. This was it. I was finally going to the mines. I rose slowly and picked up my bag of tools. It felt like sprite wings fluttered in my not-so-stout belly. What if I turned out to be a terrible miner?
Da hugged me. “Have a great first day.”
I slung the bag onto my back. The weight of the tools was comfortable, like they belonged with me. I straightened my cap and took a few deep breaths. This was really happening.
Frankie held the door open.
Our stone cottage sat in the thick forest surrounding the base of Gilliam Mountain. The city of Gilliam had outgrown the mountain several generations ago. Only the oldest and wealthiest mining families still had dwellings inside of it. I usually loathed walking through the forest, but today, either my dwarf-blood failed me, or my excitement was too strong.
Though the morning held a chill, a hint of warmth from the waning summer staved off the threatening cold. The wind tickled my cheeks. The scratching of the leaves in the breeze was music to my ears. The gold sunrise pierced the forest, deepening the browns and greens of the trees and bushes lining the path. Gilliam Mountain loomed majestic.
I was used to taking the path to the right, to the toy workshop where I’d worked the last few years training for life as a miner. This morning, we took the path to the left, toward the mines.
My mines.
Pale green and blue crystallized stalactites and stalagmites filled the damp entrance cavern. Frankie pointed out the cleansing pool, a spring burbling from the wall of the mountain into a pond filling the right half of the cavern.
“That’s where everyone washes their faces and beards at the end of each shift,” he said with a hint of awe at the beauty of it all.
Even after all these years, he still loved the mines. I hoped I would too.
Frankie allowed me to admire it all for a few minutes then pressed me onward. I could have stood there all day.
From his own bag, he took out a lantern, lit it, then led me out of the entrance cavern into one of the dozens of passages that branched off of it. We descended down a long, gentle staircase that took a wide turn to our left before leveling out into another, much smaller cavern with several crosscuts and diverging drifts. Frankie started into the crosscut closest to our right. “This one is yours.”
My crosscut.
I followed him through the narrow entrance. The crosscut widened into a stope fifty yards in where teams of miners had explored and excavated over the generations. Frankie lit the lanterns hanging along the wall, warming the ancient air and casting magnificent shadows against the beautiful, craggy stone.
“Before the others — ”
Something sparkled at the edge of a lantern beam. I took a step toward it.
Frankie grabbed my arm, holding me back. “Mabel, your attention for a few minutes.”
“Right. Sorry,” I said but looked for another moment before turning back to Frankie.
“I realize this is your first day and it can be a bit awe-inspiring, but I assure you, the beauty never fades. You have many, many wonderful years ahead in the mines.”
Overhead, a soft rumbling grew louder and closer. Within minutes the roar broke up into clusters of chatter then distinct voices.
Was I going to meet my mining partners today? I hoped they’d like me.
I heard a gasp and turned around to see Emma, my best friend. “Mabel! This is so perfect. I’d hoped you’d be our new partner.” She dropped her bag and hugged me. Thank the gods I was with Emma.
I faced the entrance, anxious to see who else I’d get to work with. I broke out in a huge grin when Phillip entered the crosscut. This day could not get any better. I got to mine with two of my best friends.
“Hey. Welcome,” Phillip said, all cool and casual.
Hands on my hips, I frowned at him until his demeanor broke and he hugged me too. “This is going to be fantastic working together,” he said.
Frankie interrupted us. “You’ll have plenty of time for talking later. Emma, Phillip, keep working where you left off yesterday. Mabel, bring your tools and come with me.”
He led me to a section of the crosscut a few feet from my friends.
“Don’t I get to work with them?”
“After I’ve trained you. Now, I want you to run your hand over this rock — carefully, slowly. Tell me what you feel.”
I did as instructed but wasn’t sure what he wanted to hear. It felt like stone should: hard. I looked at him, hoping for some kind of hint of what I should be feeling. He was smiling, not scowling. At least he wasn’t disappointed in me.
“Get up close, smell it, press on it,” he said.
I did, taking my time, pressing, tapping, sniffing. At first I didn’t understand what he expected. But then I pressed my ear to the stone as I tapped and pushed on it. “It’s firm, but almost spongy, like there are air bubbles beneath the surface, and a sulfur scent,” I said at last.
“Very good. Now take out your axes.”
Learning about the textured stone was fascinating. And my brother was pleased with me. I removed my tools from my bag and spread them out on the floor, out of the way of everyone. I looked at my three pick-axes.
“The harder the rock, the bigger the axe you want to use. This rock is fairly soft so you want the smallest one.”
Soft? I picked up the axe, hand close to the head.
“Who taught you to hold it like that?” Frankie asked.
“No one. Why? Is it wrong?”
“It’s perfect. Good natural instinct, Mabel. With gentle, small strokes, scratch at the wall.”
The rock fell away from the tip of my axe in a fine white dust that soon coated my beard. Now I knew why no one mined before their beards were thick enough. It wasn’t just an issue of attractiveness. The thicker the beard, the more it kept the dust from the face. My scraggly beard had been a concern during my interview. But I guess the chief foreman thought it was thick enough. Or my pleading had convinced him of it. The dust worked its way through my beard’s almost adequate protection and scratched my skin. I could do without this discomfort.
“Smaller strokes,” Frankie said. “Very good.”
Frankie’s instructions were slow and methodical. He was so patient and encouraging that even though I was scraping rock for hours, it was exhilarating.
The horn sounded, signaling the break for lunch much too soon. I felt like I’d only just started! Frankie gave me leave to join Phillip and Emma.
The cafeteria cavern could easily fit a thousand dwarves. Crystals lined the ceiling, and tables sat among pillars of stalactites and stalagmites. The wild boars roasting on open spits smelled more succulent than anything I’d ever tasted.
Phillip and Emma directed me to a corner of the dining cavern populated with others our age, most of whom we’d worked with or at least known in the toy workshop. Emma tugged at the braids in her beard, reminding me of my duty. Any time I wasn’t actually mining, I needed to look for a mate. For my first day, this was the perfect opportunity to see what my mating opportunities might be. We sat near our good friends Jimmy and Zach.
Jimmy put a hand on my back. “How are things going, Mabel?”
“Excellent.”
“I hear Frankie’s a great teacher.”
“The best.”
“You’ve got Frankie?” someone yelled from down the table.
“That’s Oliver,” Jimmy nodded.
Oliver’s skin had a touch too much color; not a nice gray, but he was a miner and had two braids in his beard signaling he was interested in finding a life mate. I supposed I should consider him as a possible mate.
“You’re so lucky,” Oliver sighed.
“He’s our coach and Mabel’s brother,” Phillip said.
“You’re a Goldenaxe?” Oliver stood, bumping the table in his hurry to get to me.
A bit clumsy. He grabbed my hand and shook it, his grip too firm. I might wait and see if any better options came along first.
“You must be the youngest. I’m such a fan of your family’s work.”
Well, that made him a more favorable possibility. And a strong grip probably meant he worked hard and had strong mining skills. “Ah, thank you.”
Jimmy elbowed Oliver out of the way. “A bunch of us are going to The Bearded Prospector Tavern after work. You’ll join us, won’t you?”
“Of course she will,” Phillip said.
“I guess I am,” I shrugged. “I’ll see you there.”
In the afternoon, Frankie had me feel more stone and smell it and asked me to point out the differences in the textures of the walls of the crosscut. I ended the day chipping at some solid rock with my biggest axe.
“Good first day,” Frankie said when the horn blew to end the shift.
“Thanks. Can you tell Da I’ll be home late? I’m going out with my friends to The Bearded Prospector.”
“Will do. Stout ale is the best tonic after a day in the mines. Have fun.”
“Thanks.”
Emma and I walked to the entrance cavern and joined the throngs gathering at the cleansing pool. I took off my cap and thrust my head into the water like everyone else. Glorious cool water rushed around my face and flowed through my hair washing away the dust. When I came up after half a minute, I wrung out the water from my beard. I ran my fingers through it to fluff it up.
Hundreds of us headed out of the mines, down the three-abreast path in the forest, around the base of the mountain, and finally to The Bearded Prospector, the preferred tavern of Gilliam miners. Dozens of dwarves were already drinking outside the Prospector, and there were ten times as many behind me. I didn’t see how the tavern could hold all of us if patrons already spilled out its doors. No one else seemed to take notice, so I went in with them.
The powerful yet refreshing scent of stout ale greeted us the moment we stepped through the door. A gray haze of pipe smoke hovered over the room, which was much larger than I had expected. Ancient mining axes hung on the walls, placed there by generations of miners upon their retirement.
We pushed our way through the crowd until we found an empty table in a back corner. Emma squeezed herself in between Zach and Jimmy. Phillip said he would get the first round.
Zach launched into the story of how he’d found his first emerald today. His find reassured me that this was all real, that it would happen for me, too.
I was the last of my friends to get hired on at the mines. I’d worried for so long, believing I wasn’t going to be good enough, that I’d never get here. But I’d finally made it. And today proved it had been worth the wait. I couldn’t stop grinning.
Phillip returned, arms laden with tankards. I helped distribute the ale. Before anyone could take a sip, Phillip raised his mug. “To Mabel, on her first day at the mines!” We knocked rims.
“And to Zach, on finding his first ever emerald,” Jimmy said.
I couldn’t wait to find my first emerald. I had so much to look forward to.
“I was thinking of going to the movie theater tomorrow after work,” Zach said. “Anyone want to join me? Sevrin’s in a movie playing there.”
The movie theater was a new arrival in town. I hadn’t heard many dwarves talking about it yet. I hoped that was because most dwarves didn’t know what to make of movies. We liked our mining and our ale. To do much else wasn’t considered respectable, though I didn’t see why. There were plays put on all the time and as I understood it, this was the same except the action was somehow captured in a wizard’s crystal and projected on a screen, and that I had to see.
#
Splitting off from the crowd to walk in the opposite direction from The Bearded Prospector felt wrong yet exciting. I’d only been working at the mines for two days and already I felt like I was breaking tradition.
Frankie had scowled when Emma, Phillip, and I talked about our plans today. Da and my brothers, especially the four oldest, Frankie, Patrick, Mikey, and Danny, had grumbled about the theater opening in town ever since it was announced. “No respectable Dwarf would be seen in one,” they’d said.
But we were with Ben and Zach, mountain dwellers from respectable families. And Sevrin was in the movie. There was no dwarf more revered than Sevrin.
Perhaps Da had a point though. We walked in the opposite direction of The Bearded Prospector, away from where most of the Gilliam miners lived. The forest trees crowded in on the path.
Emma walked with Zach and Ben, her arms hooked through theirs, but her attention was clearly on Zach. She was telling him about the time she’d gone to a movie in Mitchum. It looked to me like she was trying to impress him.
Phillip, Jimmy, and I followed. I smiled. The three of us were together again. We’d spent months on our masterworks together in the toy workshop. We were great friends before then, and now we were family. Every now and then, Zach glanced in our direction. He’d done a masterwork with us as well, though he’d left shortly after I was selected for the extra training. Still, there was a special bond between those of us who had been chosen to practice and demonstrate our skilled craftsmanship on a special project. I had the feeling that because of that bond, Zach would have preferred to walk with us.
“I’ve never been to a movie, have you?” Jimmy asked me.
“Are you kidding?” I scoffed. “My family has been too busy mining to go anywhere there might be a theater. They might have when Mikey was competing in axe throwing, but I was too young to remember. I know my family, though, and I’m quite confident in saying that they wouldn’t have gone to one then.”
“I don’t think movies were around back then,” Phillip said.
I had to think about that. He was right. Movies had only been around for a couple of dozen years.
Jimmy nudged me and pointed at Emma who had dropped Ben’s arm to walk closer to Zach.
“How long has she been flirting with him?” I asked.
“Since she arrived at the mines.” Jimmy said.
“He doesn’t seem too interested,” Phillip added. “Don’t blame him, though. Until you started working with us, she’d been constantly talking about how masterworks are for the slower dwarves, to give them more time to grow into their mining bodies.”
If she hadn’t said the same thing to me for months, while she’d gone from toy-making to mining, because she wasn’t chosen for the masterwork, I’d have been upset. I’d believed her for a long time, until my wonderful brothers set me straight. I shook my head. “She’ll have him interested in no time. And when he is, he’ll have long forgotten her ideas on masterworks.”
The horrid trees thinned and we came to a clearing bordering the neighborhoods of miners, hunters, and shop workers. I supposed it was a strategic location, to try and draw in the biggest crowds. I was just relieved the theater wasn’t any farther away from the mines.
I hesitated at the edge of the forest so I could take in the beauty before me.
I knew the theater was a new construction but I hadn’t expected this. To say it was made of stone just wouldn’t be adequate; pretty much every building in Gilliam was made of stone. The walls of the theater were large, rough, layered, and built to look like a mountain, with the front of the building looking like a cross-section cut into that mountain. “Wow. Who owns this?”
“Remember our vocational advisor from the toy workshop?” Phillip asked. “His son, Callum.”
Even though the vocational advisor generally spoke of mining as the only real true vocation for a dwarf, he must have thought owning a movie theater was a respectable enough vocation for his son to allow him to open and run one in Gilliam. If he didn’t, he was crazy, because by the looks of things, Callum must be doing pretty well with the theater business to be able to build something this spectacular.
Inside, the lobby was a smaller version of the entrance cavern of the mines. Callum was certainly doing his best to make mountain dwellers and miners comfortable. If only comfort and appearances were enough to earn the approval of even the most traditional dwarves like my da and brothers.
There were only a handful of other dwarves in the lobby. A lot of expense was put into this building. I hoped it gained more popularity soon. I’d hate to see it close before it really got going.
“Tonight’s on me,” Ben said.
“What?” Phillip asked.
“Mabel’s joined us at the mines, Zach’s first emerald yesterday, and my first emerald today. We have a lot to celebrate.”
“Congratulations, Ben,” I said. “This is very kind of you, but you don’t have to pay for all of us.”
“We all like to celebrate first emeralds in our own way,” Ben said. “Zach bought a few extra rounds of drinks yesterday. I’d like to buy the tickets tonight.”
“And a round of drinks tomorrow,” Zach said.
“You got it,” Ben said with a smile.
Ben bought our tickets and we walked through. On the way into the auditorium was a stand with a stack of movie programs.
“They even have magazines,” Emma said, picking up two and handing one of them to me. “Callum knows his business.”
The dim, flickering candlelight illuminated the smooth stone walls and the red velvet seats.
Emma marched us all to the third row from the front where we could get a whole row of seats to ourselves. I was happy to see several more dwarves enter behind us.
A theater usher blew out the candles around the room. I turned around and watched the projectionist set the wizard’s crystal between two fine metal tines of a fork and tap them. The tines vibrated against the crystal, releasing the images, projecting them onto the white screen.
I settled into my seat and stared at the screen and the images flashing on it. How were the movie makers able to capture the action like that, in a crystal? The images were so clear and the sound so perfect. At times, I managed to turn around to look at the crystal because it couldn’t be real, but seeing it certainly convinced me it was.
When Sevrin came on the screen, all of us in the theater cheered. I’d seen pictures of him, I’d heard the legends, but I’d never seen him like this, so real, so close. His voice rumbled and I swore I could feel it vibrate through me as he declared war against the elven army amassing on the other side of the mountains. His speech to the dwarven warriors, rallying them to his cause, it was like he spoke to me, stirring the passion in my heart. I was ready to join his cause. I think all of us in the theater were. We yelled the war cry with the warriors and cheered them as they charged into battle.
The scene changed.
I stopped cheering.
The room dimmed as his face filled the screen. I sat up straighter. My heart fluttered like a leaf in a light breeze. My insides felt like mush. I tucked my hair behind my ear and ran my fingers through my beard, tugging on the two braids. I was unable to look away from him: his long, straight blond hair, smooth chin. The spark of mischief in his piercing blue eyes jolted my heart. I licked my lips as I watched his lush mouth form the words, his gentle voice lulling me into a trance. I held my breath, mesmerized by his long, thin fingers, his slender yet powerful arms. Heat rose in my cheeks.
Aramis, leader of the elven army, stared out at me. I leaned forward, sinking into his splendor. He raised his bow, drew back the arrow, his arms sinuously powerful, preparing to release a hail of arrows at the dwarven army.
The dwarves outnumbered the elves. Aramis would be crushed. Sevrin had to let him live. They couldn’t harm Aramis. They just couldn’t. Yet there’s no way I could cheer for Aramis.
The war was devastating. The dwarven army lost more than half of its numbers. Sevrin survived, and so, much to my great relief, did Aramis.
I wanted to listen to Aramis speak forever, to revel in the beauty of his being. I wanted to touch him, hold him, kiss him. I wanted… him.
I was in love.
With an elf.
I sank into my seat. How could I be attracted to an elf? An elf, of all beings. A tree-loving, open-air, too-afraid-of-dirt-to-do-any-work, fine delicate-featured pretty-boy elf. Elves were a completely different species from dwarves. Love between us was impossible.
About the Author
Sherry Peters is a Certified Life Coach who works with writers at all stages of their writing career looking to increase their productivity through pushing past the self-doubt holding them back. Sherry graduated from the Odyssey Writing Workshop in 2005 and earned her M.A. in Writing Popular Fiction from Seton Hill University in 2009. Her debut novel Mabel the Lovelorn Dwarf placed 1st in the 2014 Writer’s Digest Self-Published e-Book Awards in the YA category. Mabel the Lovelorn Dwarf and its sequel Mabel the Mafioso Dwarf are both Prix Aurora Award nominees.
You can find her at www.sherrypeters.com.
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