Dan the Warlord

by Hondo Jinx

  “You mean my crown,” Dan said, and rapped the heavy bronze band with a knuckle. “It’s melted down from the crown of the guy I killed to take this fortress. He made it from the crown of the red elves. And they melted it down from—”

  “I love this place,” Lily interrupted in an excited voice. She had shucked her cloak and looked gorgeous in tight green breeches, knee-high boots, and a loose cream-colored blouse. As usual, bits of twig and leaf were twisted into the long silver dreadlocks, token to her half-feral life. “The valley is beautiful, more beautiful even than I could have dreamed. Even from high above, I could feel it reaching out to me, welcoming me.”

  Briar rolled his eyes.

  “Don’t mind my brother,” Lily told Dan. “He didn’t want me to come. Neither did Father. But I told them both that they could kiss my—oh!”

  And then Lily was pushing frantically at her blouse, which had lifted up, exposing her tight abdomen and the lowermost curve of her breasts. Blushing, she covered herself with a laugh. “That breeze came out of nowhere.”

  Not nowhere, Dan thought. Zamora’s power was far weaker inside than outdoors, but the horny sylph retained enough strength to lift dresses and shirts and did her best to keep Dan in a constant state of arousal.

  And lo and behold, he thought, feeling himself growing rigid, this time her trick worked.

  “The castle is old and drafty,” he said, and a current of wind slid slowly between his legs, pressing against his swelling erection.

  “It’s amazing,” Lily said, her purple eyes sparkling. “So huge. So much to see and explore.” She reached out and gave Dan’s hand a squeeze. “Will you show me the great delving tree?”

  Dan nodded grimly. “I’ll show you the tree, but it’s dead, I’m afraid.”

  That news wiped the cocky smile off Briar’s face. “Take us there all the same, barbarian. But first, fetch our sister.”

  “Look,” Dan said, “you’re my brother-in-law, and you’re welcome to visit, but this isn’t the grove. This is my fortress. My valley. Treat me with respect or get the fuck out. Your choice.”

  Briar smiled, his purple eyes hard. “The crown has made you touchy, barbarian. Let’s go see Holly.”

  It wasn’t exactly a handshake, but Dan hadn’t missed Briar’s shift from order to suggestion.

  Badger appeared, surprising Dan, who hadn’t even noticed the wererat halfling in the room, and whispered something to Nadia, who said, “Holly has moved from the library to the keep.”

  “Thanks,” Dan said, impressed yet again by Nadia’s intelligence. She knew everything that happened in the fortress, thanks to her urchins and Freckles.

  Dan asked Thelia to entertain the grey elves.

  “Of course, husband,” she said with a little bow that accentuated her impressive red cleavage. “I live to serve you.”

  Zamora, with characteristically perfect timing, rushed invisibly across Dan’s groin again. Later, he would give the horny sylph exactly what she wanted. Thelia, too. All of them.

  But now, he glanced around the room, troubled by what he saw.

  The tension between the grey elves and red elves was palpable. Briar had brought with him a dozen-and-a-half hard asses. They smirked, examining the castle as if they were thinking how they might redecorate it.

  Parus eyed the haughty visitors with thinly veiled anger, clearly not appreciating their attitudes, and although the other red elves in the room didn’t look particularly deadly, looks could be deceiving. Very deceiving. Thelia could singlehandedly reduce their visitors to ash.

  If one side popped off—

  But Dan stopped that train of thought and dismissed the situation from his mind. One of the hurdles of leadership is learning how to quit worrying and trust your people.

  “Let’s go.” He led them out of the throne room, staying one step in front of Briar. Nadia and Lily followed, arm-in-arm, chatting happily, Lily gushing about how much she loved the place and Nadia promising to show her the castle’s secrets.

  “How did you know that we’d taken the castle?” Dan asked.

  “Oh, you’re quite famous back in the world, barbarian,” Briar said. “Or rather, infamous. We heard all about you killing and robbing the merchant and fleeing into the Wildervast.”

  “That’s not the whole story,” Dan said.

  “I’m well aware of that,” Briar said. “Do you really think that I wouldn’t investigate, given that my sister was at your side? Father’s delving isn’t terribly reliable or detailed within the Wildervast, but we’ve also employed a small army of informants, including a few within the ranks of the Duke of Harrisburg, who for one reason or another appears to very much wish you dead. Were you aware that he put a bounty on your head?”

  Dan nodded. “Roderick and Bannon were both on his payroll. The merchant, too.”

  “And you’re aware that he’s massing troops in Liberty?”

  “Yeah,” Dan said. “Ten thousand, I hear.”

  “Closer to fifteen thousand,” Briar said. “And the Duke of Pittsburgh is gathering troops to the West. The War of the Dukes is heating up, and the peasants couldn’t be happier. The prospect of war gives the fools something to talk about as they work their shitty jobs and drown their livers in piss beer. Their fascination boggles the mind. It’s as if they don’t understand that this spring, Pennsylvania will drown in blood—including their own. Whatever the case, you should know that the dukes appear determined to fight the biggest battle of the war here in your territory.”

  “I know,” Dan said, leading them down another stairwell. “This war isn’t just about war. It’s also about the Wildervast—and specifically Freedom Valley.”

  “You surprise me, barbarian,” Briar said. “I wouldn’t have expected you to understand those things—ah, but there I go again, letting my honesty get in the way of the respect that you now demand.”

  Dan didn’t rise to the bait. He’d already warned Briar. If he had to deal with the cocky asshole, he would deal with him, but he wasn’t going to start barking like a riled-up chihuahua.

  Besides, they had reached their destination.

  When they entered the keep, Briar grunted as if he’d been punched in the stomach. Lily stifled a whimper.

  The siblings stood just inside the door, staring up at the massive delving tree, which stretched hundreds of feet into the air. Not a single leaf hung from its ash-gray branches.

  “Est eel Est,” Lily cried. She untangled her arm from Nadia’s and stumbled over the dead moss to embrace one of the enormous roots.

  Briar frowned up at the great delving tree, his purple eyes wracked with pain. He cleared his throat. “Well then,” he said, and walked slowly forward. “Well then.”

  Briar laid a hand on Lily’s shoulder, which shook as she sobbed softly, whispering to the tree in a stream of Elvish.

  Dan kept his distance. He had never seen Lily like this. She was wild and irreverent and tough. Nor had he ever seen Briar comfort one of his siblings.

  Before he could think much on these surprises, a voice from above called, “Lily! Briar! What are you doing here?”

  Holly sat upon a huge branch seventy or eighty feet overhead. She had a sheet of bone-white parchment in one hand and was smiling like an escaped lunatic.

  “I’m going to make sure she doesn’t fall,” Nadia said, and started scaling the tree quick as a monkey.

  “Right behind you,” Lily said, and scrambled up nearly as quickly.

  “Um, babe?” Dan called to Holly. “What are you doing up there?”

  Holly gave the parchment a shake. “Healing Est eel Est!”

  4

  Whispers in the Dark

  Parus woke in the heart of the night. As always, he came awake all at once, without grogginess, just as abruptly as he fell asleep each night, like a man struck by a sledgehammer.

  He sat up and scanned the room. What had awakened him?

  He saw no heat, save for Lalleena asleep at his side and the small
form of his sleeping son across the room. Lalleena’s swollen belly glowed brightly with the heat signature of the room’s other occupant, their unborn child.

  Parus got out of bed silently, careful not to wake his family. Investigating their quarters, he saw nothing, heard nothing, smelled nothing.

  He crossed the main room, opened the door, and peered out into the hallway.

  Nothing.

  Perhaps a dream, then—and wouldn’t that be a novelty? He couldn’t remember having dreamed since childhood.

  Lalleena claimed that everyone dreamed, even if they didn’t remember. She theorized that Parus worked too hard and slept so deeply that he couldn’t recall the scenes of that other world, but he didn’t—

  “Parus,” a strange voice whispered from down the hall.

  A rush of half-memory flooded into his consciousness, things forgotten coming back to him now like an echo.

  That’s what had awakened him.

  Parus, the whispering voice had called, drawing him out of his death-slumber. Parus, Parus.

  “Who is it?” he called down the hall.

  There was no response.

  He called again.

  Nothing.

  If this had happened a few months ago, back in Fire Ridge before Dan arrived, Parus would have suspected a joke. He and his friends had drifted through life then, chasing girls and pranking each other like so many squirrels scampering carefree through the treetops.

  But he and his friends had changed when Dan showed up and rekindled the fire within them. Now they had a purpose. A friend pranking him now was about as likely as that same friend bringing a baby’s rattle to formation instead of a spear.

  So no. It wasn’t a prank.

  Could it be that cocky grey elf, Moro?

  Parus’s fists tightened at the thought. That would be all right.

  He would love to teach Moro a lesson.

  Even more, he would love to teach Briar a lesson, but Parus had no illusions there. Briar was a powerful warrior, the most fearsome fighter from his grove. Nonetheless, Parus would fight Briar without hesitation to defend the honor of Thelia or Dan, even if doing so would mean death.

  As he reentered his apartment, the voice called again, “Parus!” It was still a hissing whisper, but he didn’t miss the tone of increased urgency. It almost had the air of a command.

  Could it be Dan?

  Was something wrong?

  Were their grey elf visitors trying to usurp the castle? It didn’t seem likely, but as Dan’s second general, Parus had to investigate.

  Moving silently, he hurried back inside, pulled on a pair of pants, and retrieved his sword from the bedside. Not bothering with shoes or a shirt, he returned to the hallway and closed the door behind him.

  All was silent.

  “Hello?” he called.

  Nothing.

  He walked in the direction from which the mysterious voice had summoned him.

  As Parus rounded the corner, the voice echoed up out of the stairwell.

  This time, Parus didn’t even bother responding. He just hurried down the stairs, slowing only to balance speed and stealth.

  Reaching the bottom floor several flights of stairs later, he was puzzled. He had heard no steps retreating, no doors closing.

  He stood, straining his ears—and the voice called his name again from just beyond this very door.

  He pushed through the door and into an empty hallway. The voice had been close, but he saw no one.

  He thought of Dan’s wife, Zamora, who could turn invisible whenever she wanted. The voice clearly wasn’t hers—even as a whisper, it was deeply masculine—but the notion of invisibility stuck with him. The voice had sounded like it was just beyond the door.

  “Who are you?” he called.

  Everything was silent for several seconds—and then the voice called his name again, this time from an adjacent hallway.

  Parus followed, and so the pattern continued, Parus following the disembodied voice through the darkened castle, growing more suspicious with every step.

  The voice led him into another stairwell, and he descended into the earth past the dungeons all the way to the underground river. At last, he stood on the narrow walkway beside the river and listened.

  “Where are you?” he called. “I’ve followed you all this way. No more games. Show yourself.”

  “Parus!”

  He jumped, badly startled, and spun around, brandishing his sword defensively. The voice had been right behind him—but of course, that made no sense.

  He had been standing practically against the wall. Turning side to side, he saw no one.

  “Who are you?” Parus called. “What do you want from me?”

  “Great things,” the voice said, apparently coming out of thin air or perhaps emanating from the stones of the wall.

  And then, Parus heard another sound: the soft crackling of flames. The burning sound was faint, as if reaching him from across great distance—or perhaps vast oceans of time.

  “Glorious things,” the whisper said.

  “What things?” Parus said. His heart was pounding, and he felt an odd pressure in his skull. He felt strange, simultaneously drawn to and repelled by the whispering voice and its cryptic claims. “Who are you?”

  But then he heard loud clanking sounds approaching from the adjacent corridor. Seconds later, a trio of half-orc guards appeared, snapping him out of his weird state.

  “General Parus,” one of them said. “We heard movement and followed you here. Is everything all right?”

  Parus straightened. “Yes, all is well. Go back to your posts.”

  The guards looked at him uncertainly, then bowed and departed.

  Parus blinked after them.

  He had lied, of course. All was not well.

  Something strange was going on here. Something very strange indeed. The voice had awakened him and drawn him across the fortress, down into the bowels of Flame Valley. That was strange enough, but weirder still was the curious state he’d been slipping into.

  What the Hades?

  He shuddered and hurried after the half-orcs, wanting to get away from this place as quickly as he could. He had no idea what had just happened to him. He was a simple man, a warrior and now a leader of warriors, not a sorcerer or priest.

  He would ask Thelia on the morrow. She would know.

  For now, he needed to evacuate this place before something else happened.

  As he turned the corner, the voice called again, and once more he heard the crackling of distant flames. Only this time, he could also smell smoke and feel heat pressing into him from all directions, like a harem of hotblooded lovers.

  Pausing at the crossroads, he hesitated momentarily. That silent second had curious gravity. It felt as if the castle itself was holding its breath, awaiting his decision.

  Strangely, the image of his sleeping wife came to mind. He pictured Lalleena as she’d looked in the darkness, a bright silhouette of heat with a ball of hot fire burning inside her distended abdomen.

  Jarred by the thought of his family, he fled the corridor and ran upstairs. He didn’t stop running until he was in his room.

  He checked on his family, found his wife and son sleeping peacefully, barred the door, and returned to bed.

  What just happened? he wondered, but in the same instant, he rejected his own question. He didn’t know what had happened, couldn’t know. It was beyond his sphere of experience, so he sheared away that line of speculation like a gardener pruning a diseased limb.

  Then, as was his wont, Parus fell abruptly to sleep.

  And for the first time since childhood, he dreamed.

  He dreamed of flames.

  5

  More Whispers in the Dark

  While Parus writhed, trapped in a terrorshow of licking flames, Dan awoke in his bed. Like his red elf general, Dan returned to consciousness instantly and wholly.

  Unlike Parus, Dan could not see in the dark. But he could feel hi
s wives around him, could hear their breathing, and could even determine which wives were making which sounds.

  Holly’s exhalations were faint and rhythmic. Nadia’s breathing was shallow and rapid, like that of a dreaming dog. Thelia whined softly, as if suffering nightmares. As usual, Ula carved the darkness with a quiet snoring that Dan found incredibly cute.

  Zamora wasn’t here, of course. The wild sylph threw herself full force into each evening’s orgy but spent her nights out in the open air, riding the winds.

  Tonight, they had all enjoyed one hell of a tumble. At one point, Dan had stood with his legs spread wide, Holly lying across one of his arms, Thelia across the other. He’d held them there in midair, twisting his head back and forth, licking between their legs as Nadia and Ula knelt side-by-side to devour him, and Zamora swiveled between their bodies, servicing everyone.

  Yeah, Sexual Stamina III was pretty much the most awesome thing ever, but it did have one drawback.

  He frequently woke in the night, hard as a titanium lance. He didn’t mind waking early. Any more, he easily got by on very little sleep. What he minded was having a throbbing erection and no one to help him with it.

  But he wouldn’t wake his wives. They needed their sleep.

  Instead, we would go out onto the balcony and see if Zamora showed up. The wind nymph would be delighted by the prospect of a spontaneous midnight snack.

  Moonlight poured through the tall archways, illuminating the vaulted throne room. Dan strode across the tiles, considering the day ahead.

  Holly’s spells hadn’t worked. Both the great delving tree and its moss remained as dead as her ancient ancestors. But Holly was still optimistic.

  Dan, on the other hand, could generate zero optimism for the day he faced. In the morning, he would meet with more ambassadors, including a representative from the Duke of Harrisburg. If leadership had taught him one thing, it was that he hated politics. Meetings bored him, and he loathed the emissaries’ silver tongues.

  In the afternoon, he was going to help move the bulk of the red elves from gorge to temporary shelters surrounding the fortress. In time, they would improve their conditions. Hopefully before winter.