The Destroyer Book 2

by Michael-Scott Earle

  "Thank you for your help," Runir said with undisguised relief. The woman looked from me to him

  "I would escort you myself, Jervin." His name rolled off her tongue like she was tasting wine. "But I have someone else to attend to. Be careful. Not everyone in this castle likes humans as much as I do." She laughed lightly and walked past us.

  We didn’t move for a few seconds. The woman with the gold hair strolled in between the guards and into Kaiyer's old room without looking back at us. The door slammed shut behind her and caused me to startle.

  "Let's go my lady." Runir touched my arm and I wrapped my grip around his bicep. I felt him shaking, or perhaps I was shaking so badly that I thought it was him.

  The sentries made no expression as we hobbled past them. Even with their plain lack of attention it still seemed to take forever to make our way to the next turn and down the stairs to the base of the East Wing.

  It wasn't until I had gotten back to my room, stripped off my corset, ripped off the gray wig, washed the stink of fear from my body, and examined my notes that I felt more relaxed.

  "Mission accomplished," Runir toasted me across the dining room with a half-full bottle of wine as I pored over my writings. "That bitch let us get out of there easily. For a second there, I was worried." He took another deep swig. I could tell he was getting a little tipsy but I didn't care. The official functions started two days from now and the other guards would handle Runir's duties for a night.

  "You had me fooled. I didn't think you were afraid at all. I thought you would pull your sword out and kill her." He snorted at my words.

  "Naw. I feel way more confident about the next step in your plan."

  I nodded and looked back down at my books. Then I picked up my dream log and turned to a random page. The Ancient we encountered outside of Kaiyer's room was terrifying, but not nearly as horrible as the one in my dreams. Except that the one with the red hair couldn't hurt me.

  "Do you think she is staying in Kaiyer's room?" Runir brought my attention back to him with the mention of Kaiyer.

  "I don't know. It seems odd to have the door guarded unless their leader is there." I closed the book again and took a deep breath. It would take many hours to forget the constricting feeling of the corset around my lungs.

  "I hope we don't see her again during this trip. Once was enough."

  I nodded at Runir again and evaluated our plans for the next few days. I didn't tell him that I was confident the Elven had recognized me. It would only cause him stress and make him want to give up on our plan. That was not an option. At this point I realized two certainties. One was that the woman knew I was Nadea. The second was that she had done nothing about it.

  The most obvious question was: Why hadn’t she done anything? But the more important question was: Will she do anything?

  That question kept me awake most of the night.

  Chapter 22-The O’Baarni

  I saw them coming over the small hill that blocked the view of our stables and house from the rest of the Elven's estate. Iolarathe's copper-red hair blew back from her beautiful face like a burning flame in a gentle breeze. She laughed at one of her companion's comments; her voice was music across the tall green grass that separated us.

  There were ten of them. Three stayed on the crest of the hill while seven, led by Iolarathe, made their way toward the stable where my brother worked on the horse. The trio of male Elvens at the top of the grassy slope seemed older than the rest. I had never considered who they were, but it suddenly occurred to me that one of them may have been her father. They glanced in my direction and yelled something to the Elvens walking to the stables.

  "Father, give me your hammer," I said without looking back. The Elvens strolling down the hill turned to look at me. Iolarathe's eyes widened in what I believed was panic.

  "What?" Kai asked from behind me. He stopped pounding on the piece of iron he was working.

  "Your hammer." I held my hand out and felt the leather grip make contact with my palm. "Stay inside the smithy," I commanded him before I stepped from the shadow of the doorway and into the full sun. I began walking toward Iolarathe and my mind felt completely at ease.

  The Elvens seemed surprised, and they should have been, for they had never seen a human like me. They would never expect that I used the Elements with the precision of their best mages and elders. When the Fire came to my body, they didn't even draw their swords. I harnessed it to the Wind and unleashed it at the three men on the hill. They smiled at what they thought would be an easy kill and too late they realized their fate.

  The magic left my hand in a stream of hate. It burned the ground to blackened ash on its path toward them. They screamed in panic as it ripped the meat from their bones and erupted into a small sun that forced the other Elvens to shut their eyes. Now they knew fear.

  Now they knew death.

  Iolarathe didn't draw her sword, but the other six men did. Three approached me with practiced grace but little thought of group tactics. The Elvens really didn't know how to fight. Even Iolarathe's tribe, one of the most powerful in the land, got their strength through politics, bullying, and clever use of human slaves. To the Elvens, combat was a game they played for land and mating rights, defending tribal honor, or for exercise. It wouldn't be until twenty years later, after the O'Baarni had annihilated almost half of their population, that they would start to take our threat seriously and study any martial arts.

  By then it was too late.

  The closest of Iolarathe's lackeys made a vertical cut with his long sword. He was slow and clumsy; the blow came from his arms instead of his hips and legs. It was like dodging a slap from a child. I stepped back a few inches while winding up my right arm with the hammer. After the blade had cleared, I unleashed the backhanded blow like a coiled snake. The hammer felt only a slight resistance as the Elven's head disappeared into a spray of tiny bone shards, brain matter, and bloody mist. My left foot kicked up quickly and slapped into the side of the blade. This caused his dead fingers to release the weapon as his headless corpse toppled over like a tree. The sword sprang into my left hand with a poetic ease I had gained from countless hours of practice.

  The left was my good hand.

  I cut through the arms and skull of one of the Elvens with three quick cuts. Then I cleaved the torso of the third into four pieces as smoothly as paint moves across clean canvas. Their screams sounded the same as the thousands of other Elvens I had slain: pain mixed with equal parts of fear, disbelief, and hate. They were so arrogant that they never believed they could be killed by a mere human. When I took their lives, they spent their last seconds wondering why their superiority had failed them.

  Two of the Elvens were guarding Iolarathe, the third had advanced toward me but hesitated long enough to see me butcher his companions. They were all males. Were these her suitors?

  He feinted a thrust, but it was a practiced move. I didn't even bring my sword or hammer up to block before he finished the feint and made a smooth transition into a sidestep and overhead swing. He was on my right, so I flipped my hammer to counter his clumsy attack. My parry smashed his hands into the grip and the man screamed when the pain shot up his arm and the sword slipped out of his broken fingers. I hit him with my shoulder and then tripped his right foot as he backpedaled. When he collapsed to the ground I stepped on his groin before driving my blade through his throat and neck. His last breath was a painfully liquid sounding gurgle that was almost as pleasant to my ears as her laughter across the meadow.

  I threw my father's hammer at the Elven to the right of Iolarathe. The tool weighed around four pounds and was built for pounding iron flat, not flying through the air, but I'd spent thousands of hours throwing rocks, swords, daggers, spears, axes, and anything else I could use for practice. My makeshift weapon flew true and smashed the face of the man into a pleasant bowl shape.

  The last Elven male had rolled to the ground, not realizing that I was flinging the hammer at his companion and no
t him. He didn't come up quick enough, so my sword found his skull and carved a canyon into it. I wrenched the blade free of his brain matter before I slammed it down into the empty air. The blood flew off of the edge and coated the grass in a line of red. It was the finishing stroke of my paintbrush.

  Iolarathe stood a few feet from me. Our eyes met, but I couldn't read any emotion in her silvery orbs. Her skin was as perfect as I remembered, impossibly smooth alabaster that highlighted the full redness of her lips and long reddish eyelashes. Her eyes seemed to glow in the sunlight and I felt like my mind would spin forever while I stared into the silver swirls there. Finally, she gave me her wicked smile and opened her mouth to say my name.

  "Kaiyer." I woke to Shlara's whisper by my ear. "Wake up, Kaiyer. I brought you some lunch."

  I exhaled deeply and crashed back into reality. It was a dream, of course it was a dream. Iolarathe had murdered my brother and her men killed my father. I had been sentenced to live the rest of my life as one of their experimental human warriors. I didn't know how to fight or how to use the Elements before that time. There was no way I could have defended my family.

  "I have bread, meat, cheese, peppers, and apples," Shlara continued to talk after she woke me. I was lying on a grassy slope next to the river where the army camped. It was late spring and the heat of the day brought out plenty of flowers, insects, birds, and people, all taking advantage of the cold water coming down from the mountains.

  "Here." Shlara handed me a sandwich wrapped in parchment. She was wearing a simple gray tunic and pants. Her hair was braided back behind her head but had purple flowers woven through the knots. The purple brought out the color of her green eyes and tanned skin. It was unusual for her to put any decorations on her body.

  Our eyes made contact briefly, but she glanced away and prepared her own food. Once she finished, she sat on the slope beside me and looked out onto the clear water of the river. There were about thirty men and women bathing, splashing, and frolicking in the current. They must have had leave for part of the day. We were only a week's march from the main force of the Elvens, and I couldn't imagine taking time to bathe unless I had completed my duties.

  We were a week's journey from victory.

  "Thank you," I said without looking at her. I raised the food in my right hand and took a small bite.

  "It is a peace offering. Do you accept?" I heard the laughter in her voice. It made me chuckle before answering.

  "Yes. I accept that you are a pain in my ass." I looked over at her and smiled.

  "Not fair. You just don't see my perspective." She stuck her tongue out at me.

  "I see your perspective. It is terrible. That is why we are arguing. That was also why I called a break in our meetings, walked a mile from my tent, and took a nap in a deserted field. So I wouldn't have to think about your perspective anymore." I frowned at her.

  "Fine. Want me to leave?"

  "No. Stay. Let's speak about something else. I am tired of arguing with the five of you about the tactics for this battle." I sighed and ate another bite of the sandwich before I washed it down with a drink of wine.

  "You are only really arguing with Malek and I. Gorbanni, Thayer, and Alexia are indifferent." I shot her a glare and she smiled charmingly.

  "Thayer agrees with me. He just doesn't want to risk your displeasure," I said with a chuckle. "You run this army with more of an iron fist than I ever did." She took a small bite of an apple before she turned her attention back to the men and women in the distant water.

  We ate in silence for a few more minutes. A few of the troops in the river glanced over in our direction every so often. They must have recognized Shlara; they were probably her troops since her camp was closest to my tent. The other armies were half a day's run away, near other water sources and hunting grounds. The full army of the O'Baarni had swollen to such a huge number that we could no longer have all our warriors occupying the same five square miles of land. That was where part of our argument began. My friends all wanted to be involved in the final battle with the Elvens, but some would have to be reinforcements, unless we could find a larger battlefield.

  "Why did you bring the swords?" I asked.

  "I figured you might want some exercise. Also, last time I sparred with the great Kaiyer, I got my arm broken in five places and was completely humiliated." She leaned up on one of her elbows and swept back the dark brown locks of hair that had strayed from her braid and fallen over her gorgeous face.

  "That was almost thirty years ago," I said. Shlara had somehow convinced Malek that she was in need of a greater challenge than what he offered as her trainer. He had always been wrapped around her finger and agreed to her demands. He came to me and requested that I begin working with her because of her prowess.

  "It wasn't really a fair fight. You said I wouldn't be a challenge alone, so you told me I had to fight you with my own squad," she said through a smirk.

  "I remember. I also remember how much that angered you." The chuckle came to my throat easily.

  "You had me all figured out." Shlara laughed and rolled over to lounge on top of me. Her braid spun down and tickled the side of my face. "I was so mad. I felt like you had insulted me."

  "I did!" The laughter felt wonderful and I realized I was more than a bit stressed about the final battle.

  "Aye. You had me beaten before I even grabbed my weapons. I couldn't even see straight when we got into the dirt to fight you. I didn't even give any orders to the squad. You went through us like a scythe." She smiled and propped herself up on her elbows. Her fingers traced along my jawline.

  "I've learned much since then." Her voice became huskier and I felt her body press into mine. "You'll lose to me now. Care to see?" Her mouth dropped closer to mine and her eyes closed expectantly.

  "Shlara," I said in protest as her lips almost touched mine. She stopped her kiss and moaned in frustration. Then she rolled her body away and crossed her arms.

  "Making love to you would have been my preferred form of exercise, but I knew that you wouldn't have gone for that, hence the swords. Don't deny me that at least." She spat out the words in a huff.

  I didn't reply. I just sat up and gave her an apologetic look before I grabbed the bottle of wine and took a swallow to clear my throat. After the drink I gazed at the river again, smelled the sweet air, and wondered what the mountains in the distance thought of our relationship.

  "Kaiyer." I looked back to her. "You will keep your promise?" Her eyes betrayed her fear.

  "Is that what this is about?"

  "Yes." She nodded. "It is what this has always been about. You've put me off long enough. Within two weeks, we will crush those fuckers. I've waited because of what you promised. I haven't pressured you. I agreed to let you be."

  "Haven’t pressured me? We have spoken about this so many times, and you have always pressured me. Admittedly in a very pleasurable way," I replied with a sigh as I stood.

  "And you've promised many times. I want to hear it again." Her eyes pleaded.

  "I promised. Once this war is over we will be lovers. I stand by it," I said it with as much conviction as I could muster. Did promising something make it true?

  After this last battle, my family would be avenged. Iolarathe had probably died years ago in some random scuffle, killed by an O'Baarni warrior who knew nothing of her crimes. After this, I could be sure of her demise. I would have closure. I would move on with my life. Shlara was one of my best friends and without question my most talented general. Building a life with her would be a fitting legacy. My father and brother would have been proud to know that I had chosen her as a mate. She was the woman I should be with.

  "I will give you children. As many as you want. They will be as beautiful as you." Shlara's smile couldn't get any bigger. Her eyes glazed over as she imagined our offspring. "This will be the beginning though. Your people will need you to lead them, probably even more than during the war. We will have to rebuild our civilization. I don't know
how we will do it, but you and I will figure out a way. We can do anything together. We will have peace and prosperity for ages. Our descendants will bless us and give thanks for the hardships we went through for their freedom."

  As she lay in the tall grass and spoke of the dreams I had given her I was taken by her beauty. The grass provided a pillow for her perfectly built body. The simple clothes she wore couldn't hide the curves of her long muscular legs, taut stomach, and full breasts. Her eyebrows rose as she saw me examining her.

  "Do you like what you see?" She bit her bottom lip in excitement.

  "Of course." I smiled.

  "You don't have to wait. You can have me now." She beckoned me with her finger and the movement reminded me of Iolarathe. I shouldn't be comparing the two women, but it was suddenly her in the hay of the loft of the stable instead of Shlara in the long grass. My mouth went dry and I looked over at the swords.

  "Let's spar instead." I tried to conjure up a smile as my vision shifted back to see the brunette woman nod in excitement and spring up from the ground. I must be going insane. At least I would only have to deal with thoughts of Iolarathe for another week. Then I would wash the memory of her from my mind and focus on what was important. Shlara needed my attention and love. She didn't deserve to have my brain occupied with thoughts of the Elven woman who had murdered my family.

  The Elven woman who had been my only lover.

  My friend was loosening her joints with the routine we had developed over our decades of practice. I mirrored her movements to warm up my own muscles. It was a possibility that there were better warriors in our armies than Shlara, but I did not know of any. She had bested Thayer several times in the last five years and he refused to practice against her now. It was a fact that Shlara's army was held in high esteem, and they reminded the other armies of it often.