Snow White and the Eighth Dwarf
By
Cheryl Sterling
Chapter One
LEX SANDS SWUNG THE AX with force and decapitated his victim. Blood spurted, and steam rose as it met the frozen winter air.
Such a savage beast I am. The Queen should be honored to have me in her army.
He looped twine around his victim’s feet and hoisted the body from a barn beam to let it bleed out.
A familiar tightness gripped his chest. He fell back against a wall, gasping, his lungs constricted at the slight exertion. Black and white dots speckled his vision.
Oh, so savage. I can’t even breathe on my own. How can I fight for the queen?
His illusions of grandeur evaporated as he fought against the pain. By the time he’d regained control of his breathing, reality crashed around him. The victim he’d killed swung from the beam, its feathers still wet from when he’d chased it around the hen house. He’d fought the battle in his mind, and the queen would laugh if she knew of his folly.
Another boring day in the life of Lex the dwarf. Except he wasn’t a dwarf. The seven dwarfs found him as an infant and fostered him for almost twenty-one years. At age thirteen, he’d surpassed them in height, and though he towered above them, he couldn’t work the mines because of his stupid, weak lungs.
Lex finished his routine chores then picked up the chicken carcass and walked toward the cottage. He might not have won on the battlefield, but he’d proved victorious in the barnyard.
Pale sunlight echoed off the path, highlighting footprints too small to belong to a dwarf. Who dared trespass? Treasure seekers? Strangers were rare this deep in the woods, but there’d been rumors of deserters from the queen’s army.
What interfered with the dwarfs’ magic wards, designed to repel intruders?
The cottage door stood open, snow whirling in glee as it slipped into the forbidden warmth. Lex dropped the chicken, and his hand slid to his waist to withdraw a knife from its scabbard. He pulled a hatchet free from wood stacked on the porch. Lex’s eyes gauged the lingering daylight. An hour remained before the dwarfs returned from the mine. He’d capture the thief and prove himself more than the boy who loved books. The dwarfs never appreciated him because he studied and insisted on working his mind, not his muscles.
I am a man. Lex’s grip tightened on the weapons. He’d leave for university in two weeks when he turned twenty-one.
They’ll remember me for this.
Lex paused at the doorway, his senses alert for the thief, but he saw nothing and heard only the creak of trees as they swayed in the increasing wind.
Melted snow inside the threshold marked where the thief stamped his feet. A wet trail scarred the rug. Lex stepped across the mess and scanned the main room for the intruder.
Discarded cushions from eight chairs showed the thief’s struggle to find a comfortable position. A book lay with pages upturned, and sheet music from the piano scattered across the floor. He’d banked the fire before he’d left, but the flames in the hearth burned bright.
Lex straightened a fireplace screen knocked askew. He swept up the sheet music before the wind blew it too near the flames and tucked the papers under an ore sample.
The thief disturbed nothing else. He’d either hurried or lacked burglary skills.
Not a good thief, a hungry thief, Lex thought as he entered the kitchen. Someone had moved the soup pot from the back of the cookstove to the counter. A dirty bowl and overturned spoon gave evidence of the burglar helping himself to a meal.
Cheeky bastard. Lex’s gaze rested on a particular flagstone, under which lay a secret room where they stored their gold. It had not been disturbed.
The burglar remained in the cottage. Lex returned to the great room and followed a trail of wet footprints up flagstone steps.
A long corridor split the upper floor; seven bedrooms and two bathrooms unevenly divided along its length. The growing storm rattled the shutters as his gaze swept the messy rooms, which showed no evidence of burglary. No stranger snored in the shortened beds, which meant only one thing—the burglar slept in his bed.
At the end of the corridor lay a tiny room that served as his since the dwarves found him in the woods as a baby.
He slipped the hatchet handle into his boot, the easier to grab if needed, and transferred the knife to his other hand. He tucked a length of twine into his pocket, ready and available to bind his victim after he’d subdued him.
Lex made no noise as he approached his room. He drew in a deep breath before his fingers tightened around the door handle and turned it. Weak sunlight from the lone window echoed off the wall and illuminated his prey.
A woman slept in his bed.
Chapter Two
“Excuse me.” Lex stepped back.
Wait a minute. Why should he let good manners take control? This woman with skin as white as snow and hair as black as coal, snuggled on his bed, the homemade quilt not hiding her curves. She’d broken into his cabin, sat in his chair and ate his soup. She deserved no courtesy.
“Excuse me,” he repeated louder with a hard edge sure to wake her and send her trembling into the storm. “You’re in my house. Get out.”
She didn’t tremble. Or flee. She didn’t move unless one counted the slightest pout of ruby red lips.
He didn’t. Count it, that is. He’d never fall for simple, womanly tricks.
“You’re in my house,” he said again, jostling the mattress. “Whoever you are, it’s time to leave.”
She sighed, a breath like the first sound of spring, and turned, pulling the quilt over her head. “Ten more minutes.”
How dare she? Ten minutes, indeed. She was careless, thoughtless and lazy, three traits he abhorred.
“Get up.” He sheathed his knife, grabbed the quilt’s hem and jerked it off the woman.
“Hey!” She sat up, the pout returned, and she stared at him with the brownest eyes he’d ever seen. They were like pools of chocolate, rich and warm and unfocused from sleep.
“Hey, yourself. Who are you, and what are you doing in my house?” He glanced out the tiny window to check the time, but the storm had erupted in the few minutes he’d been inside and obscured the last of the sun.
He’d bundle her out of here before his family returned. Maybe tie her up and throw her…Where? Not in the secret room with their gold. The barn? Even with the warmth of the animals, it might be too cold for her.
Why did he worry about her comfort? She was a thief and deserved to be tossed into the storm.
“Who are you?” he asked again.
She stretched. The red cloak she wore parted to reveal pale, bare arms, with delicate wrists and a dimple in her left elbow. She smiled, displaying dazzling white teeth.
“Why, I’m Snow.”
“Snow? What kind of name is Snow?”
“It’s my name. Snow White. Given by my poor, poor mother before her untimely death. But then, death is untimely, isn’t it?”
She stared at him as if expecting an answer. How could she appear grieved and as guileless as a newborn lamb at the same time?
It was a trick, it had to be.
“All right, Snow White, what are you doing in my house? How did you get here? We’re not on the main road.” The dwarfs built the cabin deep in the woods, near the mines.
“Is this your house? It’s a charming house.” She squinted at him. “Are you Prince Charming?”
He gestured to his rough clothes. “Do I look like a prince? I’m Lex Sands, and you didn’t answer my question.”
She laughed, a delightful ripple of mirth. “Sands meets Snow.”
“That’s not funny. Why are you here?” The woman was a feather wit. Empty-headed. Air-brained. A complete fool.
But damn fine on the eyes.
Snow White’s face screwed into a frown, attractive still, but not as much as her previous pouts. “That, Mr. Sands, is a very sad story.”
“Can you make it a short story?” She affected him in an irritating, what-am-I-going-to-do-with-her way. “And my name is Lex.”
“Mr. Lex. I’m here because Dave took pity on me.”
Not a short story. The urge to sit on the bed and wait until she reached a point overwhelmed him, but he fought the urge. It meant capitulation and loss of control. Sitting at her feet like a puppy waiting to have its stomach rubbed negated looking mean and intimidating.
“Who is Dave?” He bit his tongue before adding more. Compound questions confused her. He’d have to draw out the answers one at a time.
“Oh, he’s the woodsman. Have you met him?”
He made another note to himself about Snow White. She answered questions with more questions.
“No. Why did he pity you?”
“Oh, because of Sabine. Do you have anything to eat?”
My stew wasn’t enough? “No. Who is Sabine?” He wanted to swear in frustration.
She blinked. Twice. “Queen Sabine. Do you know her?”
Golden nuggets! Everyone knew the Evil Queen. Children quaked at her legendary anger. Brave men cowered in fright. How was Snow White connected to her and were the Queen’s guardsmen ready to barge in at any moment?
Snow rattled on as if unaware of the enormity of her words. “It’s not my fault the queen’s heart broke after her first husband died. Then she met my father, but he died, too. Grief and pain etched a wrinkle, or two, or three, on her face.”
Lex betrayed himself and sank onto the bed. “You’ve angered the queen?”
“Not intentionally. I never meant to, but she has this mirror, you see - Oh! That’s a joke. Mirror. See. I’m so clever.”
“I’m struggling to not laugh. What about her mirror?” The storm obliterated any whisper of day, and the time escaped him. Not true. Several centuries passed since he’d entered the room.
“Mirror is the sweetest ever, but honest, and when Sabine learned I’d surpassed her in beauty, well, the Queen was not amused.”
Lex jumped to his feet and pulled out his knife. “Wait. What? The Evil Queen is your mother?”
“Don’t do that, you’ll hurt someone.” She took the weapon from him and laid it on the bed. “She’s my step-mother, but I’ve known her since infancy, soon after my poor, poor mother-”
“Met her untimely death. I’ve got the picture. Mother dies, Father remarries, New Stepmother tolerates you until someone named Mirror tells her she’s looking her age. Then Presto! Chango!, you’re in the woods, about to meet your own untimely death when a soft-hearted woodsman takes pity on you and sends you away. Of all the cabins in the realm, you walk into mine. Did I miss anything?” He wanted to pull his hair out. He wanted to throw Snow White out the window, but her curves wouldn’t fit. Damn, distracting curves.
She clapped her hands. “You’re much cleverer than me.”
“Tell me something I don’t know.” He paced the tight confines of the room. “Look, Snow, I want to help, but I’m not a match against an armed squadron of the Queen’s soldiers. I suggest you head for the border. In two or three days you’ll reach the city of Alpert. I’ll point you in the right direction.”
She’d entered the cabin during the two hours he’d been in the barn doing his chores. If the queen asked Mirror about the fairest maiden in the land after Snow’s supposed death—Lex’s brain whirled with impossible calculations.
“What a sensible plan. I’m not sensible, you know. It’s from being a princess. Princesses don’t do anything, so why should they think? Can I take that wonderful stew with me? And bread? No doubt, I’ll get hungry on the trail.” She stood, the top of her head as high as his shoulder. Lex stepped back.
“Anything. Anything you want.” He stopped himself from grabbing her and rushing her out the door. Not grabbing her seemed a sensible plan.
“Maybe I could borrow your knife, in case I need to defend myself. Or hunt food. Is it hard to skin an animal?” Tears welled in her chocolate eyes.
“There’s a dead chicken on the porch. It’s yours, a going away present.” Would soldiers brave the storm? Queen Sabine’s would or risk a beheading on their return.
“You’re very kind. Perhaps your kindness might extend to loaning me warm clothes and boots? My feet are smaller than yours. I suppose if I’d known of my exile, I would have dressed better.” She smiled, a sad, watery thing, as if she’d practiced bravery in her own mirror for years.
“Fine. Just hurry.” He grabbed his spare shirt and threw it at her. She pulled it over her cloak and entangled her head and arms.
“Let me help.” He unfastened her cloak and touched her skin.
Dizziness overtook him. Lex checked to make sure an arrow hadn’t hit him in the heart.
“Try it this way.”
With the grace of a goddess, she wiggled and thrust her hips in one direction and her magnificent bosom in the other. In a trice, she donned his shirt and her cloak. Satisfied, she grinned at him.
He checked his back for a second arrow.
“Perfect.” His breath left. He’d heard tales of the queen’s magic. Did it involve invisible weapons?
He needed to think about visible soldiers driven by a vain queen’s wrath. Lex bolted for the door, his hand gripping Snow’s in case she thought of another delay.
“Wait.” She pulled against him. “What’s that noise?”
It soared above the clatter of the storm. He recognized the sound.
Doom.