“Anyone want a waffle cone?” I asked. “I could go for a waffle cone.”
Meerwen caught me by the collar. Ardel had returned.
“I have news, friends. My brother will be participating in the hunt.”
“But what does he bring to the table?” Magnus frowned. “You wouldn’t have called us if humans were enough. ”
He waved a hand over us. “Capran alchemy. Elven trickery. Even I have a few surprises of my own. ”
Ardel put a hand over his mouth. “Elsa, the blonde, is a practitioner of seidr, woman’s magic. It is not the sort of thing we like to talk about.”
“What is woman’s magic?” I asked.
The prince pursed his lips. “Sex magic, mostly.”
“Do go on.”
“Don’t drool, Angrod,” Meerwen said.
“They’re shapeshifters as well,” Mina said. “Elsa is some kind of therianthrope.”
“Oh, I don’t hate men,” Elsa said.
I jumped. “What is wrong with me? It’s like everyone and his brother can sneak up on me today.”
“Hello!” Orvar said, right in my ear. “My, aren’t we tense.”
Cruix coughed. “You might have heard them if you weren’t so intent on learning about sex magic.”
“You’re curious about seidr?” Elsa said. “I could be persuaded to talk theory. That is, if you’re friendly.” She caressed my hair, just in case I wasn’t clear what she meant.
Meerwen stepped forward, but it was Tamril who said, “Back off, lady. He’s mine.”
“Excuse me,” Meerwen said. “I don’t know you.”
Tamril smiled. “But I know Angrod.”
“Popular fellow, isn’t he?” Magnus asked Heronimo.
Heronimo nodded wisely. “He’s a grower, not a shower.”
Meanwhile, my girlfriend was getting increasingly territorial. She tends to speak with her fists, so I got between her and the other women.
“I say, Angrod, are you going to let this continue?” Meerwen asked. “Defend me!”
“Er, I’m with her,” I said.
“Not always.” Tamril grinned. “He has been known to entertain other parties.”
“Perhaps we should let him decide who he’s entertaining tonight,” Elsa said.
All three looked at me. Two brunettes and a blonde.
“I’ve heard this story before,” I said. “The poor guy ended up starting a war.”
“Well, I guess that’s everyone,” Ardel said. “All that’s left is to win the prize.”
“How did the land come to be available?” Magnus asked. “The Northlands is huge, but this much prime real estate never goes unclaimed.”
Ardel scratched his chin. “It was Jarl Vidar’s hold until he fell in single combat. Normally the loser’s possessions go to the winner, but Vidar’s opponent was an outlaw. By definition, outlaws cannot fight duels or own property.”
“That is a real handicap, believe me,” Conrad said.
The bartender was standing in our midst. Only he wasn’t the bartender anymore. He stood taller, with his head high. He was unmistakably the same halfling boy we’d rescued all those years ago.
But he was a man now.
A waiter put his tray down and joined Conrad. He threw off his coat to show off the blue lines on his shoulders and arms. A waitress put down a vase and revealed herself to be an elf, as well as a man. The halfling girl with the ice cream cart opened a side panel and a dwarf climbed out, shivering.
“You!” Jarl Nordensson said. “You are under arrest!”
“Your majesty!” Conrad said. “I only want to speak with you. We are unarmed, as you see.”
King Garvel strode forward. “You are an outlaw. Any man may kill you. Is obligated to, even, considering your many crimes.”
“I free slaves,” Conrad said. “My people.”
“You’re a brave man, I’ll give you that,” Nordensson said. “Guards, take him away.”
“I can help,” Conrad said. “It’s why I’m here.”
“You risked your life, and that of your people, to come here?” the king said.
“I couldn’t keep them away.”
The guards moved to surround Conrad, but King Garvel raised his hand. “Now, now. That is no way to treat guests.”
At the word guests we all relaxed. Conrad and his men were now protected, and bound, by the laws of hospitality. They could not be harmed. Neither could they harm anyone.
Hospitality is serious business, especially in the Northlands where inns aren’t common. When you can’t travel without relying on strangers for shelter it is important that guests and hosts know what’s expected of them.
“You mean to win Vidar’s hold,” King Garvel said.
“I think I already have some claim to it,” Conrad said.
“Vidar was one of the best swordsmen in the land,” Nordensson said. “How did you defeat him?”
“With difficulty. He was, as you say, one of the best, and we fought in his own castle. It was chancy. But then, my luck has always been good at games of chance.”
The king laughed. “A risk-taker. Good! You’ll be the first halfling jarl, if you win.”
“And I will be the first dwarven jarl, if I win,” Magnus said. “And Angus here will be the first elven jarl if he does.”
“Angrod,” I said. “That’s my name.”
“Right, Angus,” Magnus said. “Will there be any problem with any of those outcomes?”
“It’s not what I would have chosen,” King Garvel said. “But I am prepared to welcome any of you to my court.”
He fixed us with a look. “The question is, are you gentlemen prepared to do what’s necess’ry? To fight, bleed, even die?”
Chapter 18: Heronimo
“Wake up,” Cruix said.
“I’m awake,” I said.
“Took you long enough. I’ve been trying to wake you for five minutes.”
“What time is it?”
“Almost dawn. Ardel wants to see us. You know, you normally wake up instantly.”
I shifted. One of my bed-warmers had fallen asleep on top of me. I eased her off and tried to climb out of bed, but another girl had snuggled up to my legs. Clearly they were as tired as I was.
“This is the life, is it not?”
Cruix snorted. “For you, maybe. Not for the women.”
I untangled myself and reached for my clothes. Cruix was already dressed.
“You weren’t at the afterparty,” I said.
“You’ll forgive me if I didn’t want to have drinks over the body of my fallen cousin,” Cruix said.
“Neither did I feel like feasting on its soft parts.”
“Fresh wyvern tongue is a delicacy!”
We met Ardel outside the longhouse. Like us, he was dressed plainly, with none of the jewelry that would mark him as a noble.
“I’ve been a bad host,” he said. “I have concealed from you the truth about my city. Not my plan, but I went along with it.”
“The prince has graciously offered to give us a tour,” Cruix said. “Behind the whitewash this time.”
Ardel winced. Then he nodded. “I’ll have my men lower a rope from the battlements. We won’t be noticed.”
Half an hour later we were striding briskly through a lightening Heorot. The moon provided more than enough light for human night vision. Cruix made do with his elven Sight.
There were already crowds of people on the streets. They were karls, not thralls, but I had to check for collars to be sure. The men barely came up to my shoulders. The women were too thin or too fat to be beautiful. Nobody wore any jewelry. They stared hungrily as we passed.
“Are these free men?” I asked. “They live no better than slaves.”
“They have their freedom but little else,” Ardel said. “When they came to the city they left behind their land and their peasant trades. ”
“No property. No livelihood.” I looked away, but the hovels were everywhere. “What i
s a man without either of those things?”
“Pretty fucking useless, apparently,” Cruix said. A woman emptied a chamber pot out the window and he jumped. “How do people live like this?”
A line of halfling slaves marched past. There were a dozen of them, chained together at the neck.
The last was a little boy who scampered to keep up.
“Always someone who has it worse,” I said.
“You men love to make chattels of yourselves,” Cruix said. “Such a peculiar institution.”
“We’ve always had slaves,” Ardel said.
“Dragons never have.”
“Dragons never had fields that needed tilling or ditches that needed digging.”
“Do you even economy?” I said.
Cruix opened his mouth, but before he could answer an arrow went thunk into his shoulder.
Angrod
Tracking the creature to its lair was easy enough. But then, I’m sure King Garvel’s warriors had no trouble finding the beast. Surviving it seemed to be the challenge.
It didn’t take a master tracker. The monster had attacked several villages before venturing into Heorot. We rode to the first village and spiralled out, looking for tracks.
Wyverns on the ground aren’t much for stealth and this one was no different. Magnus spotted the tracks from the air. He had a mechanical hawk, a clever device that relayed what it saw through an eyepiece.
“What’s it like?” I asked, riding alongside.
“Like reading the most detailed map in the world. Beautiful, but infuriating.”
Soon enough we could follow the trail on our own. The tracks led to a mountain, to a yawning gash in the side it.
“What’s our first move?” I asked.
Everyone stared back at me. Even the other teams.
Magnus cleared his throat. “Shouldn’t you be the one to tell us?”
“You are the authority on wyvern hunting,” Elsa said.
They had me there.
“Well, my first thought is to put up a wall of stakes, then pour death into the cave. A big enough fireball will kill anything, if not from the pressure and heat, then from the lack of air.”
“Lack of air?” Elsa said.
“That’s right. If we burn all the breathable air, the cave’s inhabitant will suffocate.”
She shivered. Magnus smiled grimly. “I have something that could also do that trick,” he said.
“So do we,” Arawn said.
“Then we are agreed?” I said.
“Hold it,” Orvar said. “My people have no such means at our disposal.”
“It’s the safest way,” I said.
“But we won’t get a chance at the prize.”
Cruix smirked. “Why don’t you folks charge in, then we pour death into the cave?”
“There’s another thing,” Orvar said. “If you all attack at once, how would you tell who killed the beast? Will the creature even be identifiable?”
Arawn nodded. “We need its head, and intact too.”
I looked at Conrad’s group. Sandy, the halfling girl, was checking her weapon, a monstrous rifle.
The cartridges in her bandoleer were as big as tent pegs.
“Like what you see?” she said. “My new baby. She’ll punch a hole through half an inch of steel, then detonate on the other side.”
“Impressive,” I said. “Dwarven-made?”
Conrad nodded. “And damn expensive, even without the fancywork.” He named a sum and I whistled. Even for me, that wasn’t cheap. The bullets might as well be solid silver.
“But this puts us in the game,” he said. “With this, we quite literally have a shot.”
“What do you call this wondrous weapon?” Cruix asked.
“The dwarves called it a drag—wyvern gun.”
“Really.” Cruix crossed his arms. “I’ve never heard of a dragwyvern. It must be a dangerous beast.”
“You don’t know half of it,” Sandy said, still tinkering with her rifle. “The catalogue had all manner of specialty ammunition. Shock rounds, freeze rounds, inferno rounds...”
Cruix would have said something, but I had dragged him behind a tree.
“Now, look here,” I said.
“No, you listen,” he said. “Someone is selling weapons designed to kill me. How should I feel?”
“It can’t be that bad,” I said. “Magnus, do you make weapons designed to kill elves?”
“As far as I’m concerned, we don’t make enough!”
“There, you—what?”
“I said we don’t sell enough weapons to elves!”
“That’s not what you... oh, nevermind.”
The others had decided. They would smoke the beast out.
Arawn and Hafgan remounted. Laraib, Herkus, and Sham were already in the saddle. The king and his best soldier wore plate armour, while the other three were garbed in silk and leather. My sparring buddies held lances but they’d probably be using the sheathed bows hanging from their saddles.
Sandy dropped to one knee and took aim. Conrad half-drew his sword, then returned it to its scabbard. The rest of his crew did similar things. I’d only just met them, but they looked capable. Yang the half-elf had his shepherd’s axe in hand. There were a pulse as he gathered energy for a spell. A hedge wizard. Zukaldi the dwarf took a swing with his hammer. The hammer glowed brightly in my Sight. An enchanted weapon, then. And Borlog the human limbered his war club.
A believer in big sticks.
Magnus had four assistants. I didn’t know their names. They wore goggles and leather masks but carried no weapons. Magnus, meanwhile, was clad from head to toe in reactive mail.
“Gloves,” he said. His assistants fitted vambraces to his forearms and slipped his hands into oversized gauntlets. He made a fist and sparks jumped from finger to finger. He raised his other hand. There was a hum. A ball of light grew in its palm.
Elsa looked at Orvar, who nodded.
“It is time,” Elsa said. “Hertha! Marko! Audun! Show them your true faces.”
The hulking woman shrugged out of her cloak. Her skin was very tan. She crouched and flexed her biceps and her skin grew furry. The shorter man fell to his hands and knees. His neck bulged out and grew long. His face extended as well. The taller man had already sprouted fangs and a tail. They grunted and snarled. It must have been painful as their bones stretched, as their muscles swelled, as their skin tore and healed over. Horns pushed out of the woman’s skull and grey fur rippled down the men’s backs.
Dragon Sacrifice (The First Realm Book 3) Page 15
