Dwarves, Elves, and Consultants

Urban Fantasy, Magic, Satire

Kalm looked at the two-headed axe lying in front of him on the boardroom table and wished that he hadn’t left his shield at his desk. Armor was out of the question—his helm and chainmail sat useless in the trunk of his car in the darkest depths of parking level thirty-three, section D.

“…but who is saying that we need to hire consultants?” The vice-queen’s voice cut through him like a dragon’s fang, shedding any further thoughts of his forgotten armaments. Her shrill warble would always herald the change—her mock-charm slithered away to reveal a more suitable growl that lurked underneath.

An idiot coin counter from Treasury made the mistake of opening his trap. “You did, ma’am, at the general meeting you stated—”

“I said nothing regarding consultants. We don’t have the budget for that.”

Her displeasure crept across her features until it corrupted her serene but completely insincere countenance. The thin lacquered lips of her smile disappeared and folded in on themselves until only a thin line of blood red marked the place where she devoured the souls of her staff. Or so the rumors around the keg proclaimed.

“I would never have agreed to consultants.”

Kalm kept his mouth shut but glanced sideways at his manager, Heckler, the only other dwarf in the room. They were both in the meeting where she agreed to hire consultants, and it was indeed her bloody idea.

Heckler hadn’t brought a shield either, but a stout war hammer etched with dwarven rune work leaned against the arm of his chair. “You’re correct, it’s not in the budget, and consultants aren’t required,” he said to placate her.

Kalm hated watching a dwarf capitulate to an elf, but being a dwarf with the company wasn’t easy. Elves did not care for anyone shorter than themselves, and all of her subjects were shorter as far as the vice-queen was concerned.

“Good. No one should be looking outside the organization without my consent.”

Her gaze slid to Heckler as she turned her full attention to the dwarves. For a moment, Kalm didn’t envy his manager at all. Three full stacks of coin could not be worth the dread of reporting directly to the demon-elf.

“The Rune department was commanded to have the new office up and running by month’s end. My people can’t get their work done if you don’t have the runes completed. Why is it not up?” She said.

Heckler glanced at Kalm and smiled before throwing him under the cart. “Kalm, maybe you could outline where we are with this project?” The bastard deflected well, even without a shield.

Kalm straightened the silk tie around his beard and prepared to enter the melee. “We are currently—”

“I don’t care where we are. I want to know where we aren’t,” she spat.

The dwarf leaned with his elbows on the table and looked the point-eared witch directly in the eyes. “We’ve finished rolling out the basic rune structure, and we are waiting for—”

“But why aren’t you done?” she demanded.

“For proper construction and alignment of the runes, we need a lead time of thirty days. The enchantment group came to us with only two weeks’ notice, at that point—”

“And why do you need thirty days?”

“That’s the protocol for requests involving—”

“Who says that’s the protocol?”

“You did!” Kalm’s deteriorating patience began to crack in earnest.

“I think I would know if I’d made that decision.”

His lip curled beneath his mustache, and for a moment, he was glad his axe was on the table and not in his hand.

“You still haven’t explained why you require thirty days.” She was not going to let it go.

Heckler joined the battle again. “Thirty days has always been the lead time for a project of this magnitude.”

“It doesn’t matter if it’s thirty days or a hundred days. We can’t communicate with the other offices if you haven’t done your jobs!” The she-elf glared at the dwarves and waited for an answer.

The dwarves glared in return and waited for a question.

“Well?” she asked.

“Well, what?” Heckler said.

“When will you have the runes ready?”

“Two—more—weeks.” Heckler’s beard puffed out as he spoke each word.

“Two more weeks! But why?” Kalm’s stomach knotted as her voice rose into a familiar angry whine.

“Because it takes thirty days to roll out a new office!” Heckler shouted.

“But why?”

“What do you mean ‘but why’?”

“Why do you need two more weeks?” she asked again.

“Because we are already two weeks into the project, and it will take two more! Heckler turned red under his beard. “That’s a total of thirty bloody days, which is the policy that you set!”

“I don’t care. I want it up by the end of this week!”

“You can’t be serious,” Heckler said.

“Of course I’m serious.”

“It can’t be done without bringing in—”

“No consultants!” Her chair slammed into the wall behind her as she stood.

Heckler hurled his own chair and bared his teeth at the elf. His war hammer began to fall to the floor, and he reached out and caught it by the haft before the weapon could drop.

The room froze. The thin red line, the place where the vice-queen drank happiness, blossomed back into a grin as she stared at the hammer in the dwarf’s hand.

“Are you challenging me, Rune Manager Heckler?”

The seconds uncoiled and stretched until they seemed like minutes. Heckler stood with his fist wrapped around the war hammer, caught in the elf’s web like a fly waiting to be devoured. The only choice left was to yield or to struggle. It wasn’t a hard decision for a dwarf.

Heckler feinted with the hammer and then slammed his empty shield hand into her gut. He laughed as she folded in two and careened into the wall beside her chair.

“Still want it done in a week, witch?” He roared.

The vice-queen stood and smoothed her robes. “Dwarves; all muscle, no brains.” Her hand flicked, and flames rushed towards him.

The dwarf slammed the butt of the weapon down, and the runes etched into the head crackled to life. The fire licked around him with no more heat than a smithy’s forge. “Vice-king Heckler has a nice ring to it, don’t you think, elf?”

“You had one ale too many at lunch if you think that will ever happen, Shorty. I’d sooner bow to a gnome.”

“I don’t care if you’re bent or broken, elf. Do you know what my first decree will be?” Heckler spun the hammer above his head in a great arc and sent it swinging towards the vice-queen’s head.

She smiled as the weapon crashed against the air in front of her as though it had kissed an anvil. “Oh, please tell me, Vice-Gnome Heckler, what will you do?”

The dwarf brought the ancient maul down repeatedly until the vice-queen’s shield shattered. He held the hammer up to her nose. “I will replace your entire bloody department with consultants!”

She grabbed the hammer’s face in her hand and, with a word of power, wrenched it from Heckler’s grasp. “I thought I had made myself very clear about the use of consultants.” The hammer sailed from her hand on a gust of wind and smashed into the dwarf’s chest.

Heckler fell to the floor along with the remains of his career. The vice-queen stood over him like a spider inspecting the small thing that had tried to escape her web. “The only thing you’ll be doing is filling out your workers’ comp forms.”

Kalm slid from the chair. His battle rage simmered, fueled by the grunting and wheezing coming from the floor. The runes on his axe glowed faintly on the table; it beckoned to him, promising to unleash its power if only he would call it to war.

The elf turned to him, unconcerned that he was on his feet. “Now, Kalm, I believe you are the next senior member of the rune department?” Her eyes flashed cold for a moment before her soul drinking, happiness swallowing, red line of a mouth crawled back across her face to twist itself into a mockery of a smile. “Perhaps you could oversee the project while Heckler is on leave?”

Kalm sized up the elf, wondering if she was spent, if a swift fell of his blade would finish what the other dwarf had started. He walked to the table and picked up his two-headed axe in one hand, and when she didn’t flinch, he gave her a curt nod barely noticeable beneath his beard.

“And when will the runes be ready?” she asked, reapplying her charm.

The acting manager of the rune department stared back at the vice-queen and straightened the silk tie around his beard with one hand, and with the other, cleaved the axe into the boardroom table. He smiled when the idiot coin counter jumped and let out a yelp.

“Two—more—weeks.”

“Fine,” the elf said. “But no consultants.”