Of Dark Elves And Dragons

by Greg Curtis

  The pain, the inability to speak or move his arms, and his ever growing terror had all rendered Afri impotent. He couldn’t utter a spell to save his life which was what he would have desperately wanted to do. The demon was dead, or as close to it as his kind could be while still in the world, something that Alan would never have believed possible, and the only thing remaining was to free Han’gre. He sent his other diamonds in to finish the job, ripping the pegs out of the ground one by one with their enormous strength, until finally the great black dragon was able to shrug off the last of the bonds and rise to his feet.

  Han’gre roared his freedom, as only a dragon could, and the sound echoed up and down the forest like a thunderstorm. High in the skies above them more dragons roared their happiness for their friend, as they continued hunting the remaining vampires, and for a while nothing could be heard for leagues in any direction but the sound of the storm. The storm of dragons raging.

  “Little wizard, dragon friend, I will sing songs of this day and your courage for a thousand years. How may I reward you?” Han’gre was clearly happy to be free, and perhaps even a little relieved, though whether the vampires could have actually killed him, Alan had no idea. They’d hurt him, but how badly he didn’t know.

  “Your thanks are reward enough Great One. But your wisdom in judging these ones would be welcome.” Not that he’d had any choice in the matter. Trying to stop an angry dragon from having his justice was like trying to stop the sun from crossing the sky. It just wasn’t going to happen.

  Spreading his wings wide even in the forest, and then somehow half leaping half flying the short distance between them, Han’gre made his way to where the demon lay, still oozing and moaning, still with a trace of the unnatural life in him that would not die. In fact he was already healing, the ooze that had been coming out of his torn stumps, slowing to a mere trickle and patches of new pestilent skin forming over the stumps. In time he would have become a danger again, which was why he wasn’t going to be given it.

  “Unnatural one, your kind is not welcome in our world.” A blast of dragon fire as powerful as any blast that Alan had ever seen engulfed the demon, and mere heartbeats later all that remained was a scorched patch of bare earth and the echoes of its final scream. The demon was returned to whatever realm he had come from, and with his departure so too had his evil gone. Instantly the entire forest seemed somehow cleaner and fresher, while his vampires would already be weakening. Much of their strength had come from their link with the demon, and through him with the Everliving itself, and now that he was gone so was it. But that would not save them. They would not magically return to their normal life now that the demon was vanquished. They had still been transformed by it into his soul eating servants, and they would always hunger. Death was still their only release.

  Han’gre turned his attention to Afri, who would have screamed and run had he been able. Instead he just stood there, held firmly by his throat, choking and gagging, and discovered even more fear as the dragon’s huge black face stared at him from a distance of less than five feet, smoke gently wafting from his massive nostrils. He surely knew he was about to die. It was only a question of whether he would burn or be eaten.

  “Little evil wizard. It is hard to conceive of any mortal with a heart as twisted and pestilent as yours or a soul so withered. One who would betray his own people, feed them to the demonic ones, and even try to use his own mate as a bargaining tool in a battle. I am soiled just by seeing you. For all of these reasons your life too is forfeit.” A second blast of dragon fire filled the forest, and Afri had just time for a quick gurgling scream before he too became a pile of smouldering ashes in the middle of the great forest. The diamond elemental too suffered under the withering blast, and just as it began glowing orange in the heat, Alan made it drop Afri’s burning corpse and walk out of the fire before it melted. Diamonds were tough but dragon fire was more so and he didn’t want to lose a useful servant with the battle still raging.

  Then the dragon turned his attention to Ashiel, and Alan’s heart leapt to his throat. She was the only one of the three who deserved mercy, but she too had disobeyed the dragon’s laws. Then again had she had that much choice? Even as he looked at her from his distant perch, Alan could see the blood around her neck and more on her back and arms. She had fought her betrothed, fought her bonds, maybe even tried to stop Afri before this began. Alan didn’t know the customs of the Huron, least of all as regarded betrothals, and he had no idea whether she could have stopped her betrothed, but he knew that Han’gre could see deep into a person’s soul where even he couldn’t.

  “Speak.” The dragon’s voice was suddenly soft, the anger gone, and yet it still carried all the way to where Alan was perched as it was intended.

  “I have failed. Burn me. Burn my former companions, release them from their torment. But please save my kin from the other vampires, and let my family know that I thought of them at the end.” She was brave as he’d expected, and noble with it, all that her family were, and Alan could only hope that that weighed with Han’gre. If it didn’t he didn’t know what he could even try to do.

  “Do you accept my judgement?”

  “Without question Great One.” She bowed her head, a tragic figure bent low before the mighty form of the dragon towering over her.

  “Do you accept my queen’s ruling?”

  “Yes. Bind my powers. I have none left anyway. Afri stole them from me along with my honour.” If anything she looked to be withering before the dragon and yet Alan had the certain feeling it wasn’t Han’gre that caused her such suffering. It was her own guilt and shame. But how much did she have to feel guilty for? Ashamed of? Those were the important questions.

  “For that, and because you at least tried, I will spare your life. But only on the condition of service.”

  “I would prefer death.” Her words shocked Alan, nearly ripped his heart out of his chest with pain just as he’d been daring to hope, and yet there was still nothing he could do. She had been offered her life, something that was all but unimaginable considering her crime, and yet she refused it. He wanted to go to her, to tell her no, even to beg, and yet he couldn’t. Neither she nor Han’gre would have accepted his intrusion into the matter.

  “You will serve.”

  “I am sullied. I have given my betrothed what I should not have as I tried to turn him from his path of evil. I have failed to stop him from harming my friends and fellow Huron. I may be with child, a baby that must never be born for the evil of its creation as its father was already secretly consorting with demons. I even listened to his lies, for a while. For all of these reasons I ask for death.” In her heart she was already dead Alan realized with a sinking heart, and a part of him was dying too as he heard what she had done, and the consequences of it.

  To be with child, out of wedlock was bad enough. But for the father to have been so evil, the child conceived in sin and hatred, maybe even in the presence of a demon and by a father already poisoned by one. As a man, who as Afri had rightly pointed out had feelings for her, it was like a knife being twisted in his guts. Over and over again. The thought of her being with Afri at all was terrible, though until then he’d put it out of his mind knowing it was never his place to have such thoughts. The idea that she might be carrying Afri’s child was completely sickening, especially when he thought of what Afri had become. And the thought that it might even be a demon diseased creature within her, was still worse. No wonder she wanted to die. He would have wanted the same in her shoes. Still he didn’t want her to die, but no matter what he decided was right, it wasn’t his choice.

  “Are you deaf little one? You will serve. Did you think that I make suggestions! You have accepted my judgement, now you will obey.” Han’gre seemed upset by her refusal to obey him, and smoke was appearing in his nostrils, and yet Alan knew he wasn’t going to harm her, he wasn’t angry. His heart was as large as a wagon as befitted a creature of his size, and he wasn’t about to let her give
up on life. Yet it might not be his choice in the end. Ashiel did not want to live, and there was little anyone could do to change her mind. Still Alan was relieved. She could live, and hopefully she would. Time as they said was a great healer. But not if she carried demon spawn within her. That was something the dragons would have to deal with. He only hoped that they could.

  Alan sat there, feeling for the first time in more years than he could remember, powerless and ashamed of himself. He wanted to run to her, to comfort her, it was his duty as a knight to offer succour to the hurt, but he couldn’t, he didn’t know how, Ashiel wouldn’t have let him, and worse a dark part of him couldn’t have borne to have touched her right then. Not after learning what she had done with Afri. Not with what she might be carrying. Not when he had once been dreaming however inappropriately of being with her as a consort. And that he knew could never be.

  Purity and chastity. They were two of the most important of watch words for a knight, and he had always held to them. He had never lowered himself to be with a woman of the night. He had never demeaned a woman in any way. He had to be pure, and so too it was expected, would be his wife.

  What Ashiel had done, even though he understood the reason, went against every value a knight must hold true, and in his heart he was always a knight. He would not judge her, he would not call her a fallen woman as would many nobles in the court, but he could never court her either. His wife if he was ever so lucky as to wed, had to hold dear the same virtues as he did. It was more than expected, it was demanded.

  Yet it was more than that. The thought of her with Afri, especially Afri when he was under the spell of the demon, that was sickening. No matter how noble her reason for doing so, the very thought turned his stomach. It was wrong and primitive, and still he couldn’t have touched her.

  Instead of doing what was right and proper, instead of being the decent man his father had always expected him to become, he sat there, immobile with self-loathing, bitter tears slipping silently down his cheeks, and let Han’gre make the decisions for Ashiel’s future.

  But at least she had a future, whether she wanted it or not. He only hoped she had the strength left to embrace it. And that he had the strength and the decency to help her as she needed.

  Chapter Fourteen.

  Dava came to see him a week later, just as Alan was putting the finishing touches on his house. Or at least on its main structure. It would be a long time and a lot of work before things were right again with his home.

  He’d spent whole days simply cleaning out the burnt remnants of his furniture and possessions, salvaging what could be saved from what couldn’t, before turning his attention to cleaning the shell of what remained of his home, and starting the long slow process of rebuilding it. Piece by piece he had started restoring the timbers and other building materials, forming the broken boards back into the whole they had once been, seamlessly fusing the fragments of glass back into intact window panes where he could, rebuilding the broken oak frame of the house, and when he had found that too much of the timber was gone to re-clad the entire house, replacing the bottom few feet with dark clay bricks he was firing in a kiln in his front yard.

  The house was no longer the same as it had been, the bricks forming its base and outlining its door frames and windows had the effect of changing its entire character, and yet it was still his own home, slowly being returned to life, a phoenix rising from the ashes. In time he would have to go to Silver Falls and buy some provisions, more glass especially as he couldn’t make it for himself, but also furniture, food, cookware, provisions and clothing. With twenty whole coppers to his name that would not be easy, but he could also sell some silver he could mine out of his river bank, and even in Silver Falls where they had a dozen working mines, that had some value.

  Then would come the rest of the work, painting all the timber once more, rebuilding the flower pots and setting them up in front of the deck, fixing the broken slates on the roof, cleaning and painting the inside walls, staining and polishing floors and so forth. Once that was done he could begin work on the rest of it, the pergola and the ponds, the gardens, and his parents’ headstones. And finally, before he left again, he would enchant it with spells of concealment, to protect it from any more vandals. There was a lot of work to do, even for a wizard, but in time his house would be a home again. Not the same as it was, but still his home. And the work was good for him. Building, creating, repairing, crafting, all the things he had always loved about his magic.

  Despite the pain of knowing what had been done to his home, fixing it, feeling the value of his gifts as he put things back together, that was also good for him. That and returning to what he knew. For a while he had allowed himself to be caught up in a fantasy world, one of friends and acceptance among other elves or Huron as they actually were. Now that dream had gone, and he was once more universally despised, and yet that was something he understood. He had lived like that for more than a decade since the death of his family, never needing nor wanting the attention of others and he couldn’t understand why he had ever left that blessed state. For a while he had been consumed by some sort of madness. No longer. Sanity had returned and he was at peace once more.

  The last thing he wanted was an interruption. Least of all from one of those he had once wanted to believe his friend.

  “Greetings.”

  Alan returned his greeting with a nod, all that he was prepared to do right then. No doubt the Huron still felt that they had been hard done by him, believed they had cause to blame him for their woes. But they didn’t and he had no intention of accepting their accusations any longer. He felt sorry for them but it wasn’t his fault, it was theirs. He’d already spent an entire week and a half rebuilding his home, and he’d arrived at that conclusion more strongly with every day that passed. He had done all that he could for them.

  “I was told that your house had been attacked.” He surveyed the damaged gardens and the pile of half burnt timber and furniture still in the front yard with a somewhat surprised stare. But surprised that it was so badly damaged, or that it still stood at all? Alan didn’t ask. He didn’t want to find out.

  “Smashed and broken, burnt, looted, the remains defaced, defiled and all but destroyed, my parents graves desecrated. How can I help you?” Alan was in no mood for pleasantries and he was far more brusque with Dava than he should have been. And yet he didn’t care anymore. He was tired of the Hurons and had he never seen any of them again, that would have suited him fine. His elementals protected them, with or without his needing to command them, the dryads guided them, the dragons watched over them, he needed to do no more.

  “I came to thank you. For Ashiel. For saving her life. Maran, her mother bid me give you her thanks.” Her name was like an open wound as he heard it, reminding Alan that he wasn’t the only one who had suffered, and that he had a duty to her still. A duty of care that he had already failed, but one that he still had to carry out even if she would never thank him for it.

  “No thanks are owed. I did not save her, merely helped to stop an ancient enemy. Han’gre spared her for his own reasons, but it may not be enough. She does not want to live.” In fact she had become depressed, stopped eating, and even tried to kill herself from what Han’gre had told him. The shame and the guilt was still too much for her to bear, and yet the dragon had hope that she would recover in time and take up her duties as a servant to the Order with something akin to happiness. In time. Alan only hoped he was right. He hadn’t asked, and he dreaded finding out if she was with child, but in any case it was too soon to know.

  “Your pardon?” Dava was obviously caught by surprise by his words. But then he would be Alan realized, as Ashiel had also refused to speak with her family. As far as he knew she had just locked herself away in the new lair and refused to speak to anyone and he cringed when he thought of how much pain she must be in.

  “I am forbidden to speak of it. By both Han’gre and Ashiel herself as well as by common decency. But her
mother should know of her terrible pain and should speak to her.” That was something that he could imagine her doing soon. Whatever Alan’s feelings towards Dava, he was a good man and a concerned uncle. He also knew better than to ask questions Alan couldn’t answer. In even telling him as much as he had, Alan had gone beyond the bounds of propriety as well as obedience. Honour would not allow him to say any more, but mercy and a knight’s duty of care demanded it, and somehow he forced himself.

  “Her betrothed was a terrible man long before he consorted with the demons, and his actions towards her were dishonourable.” Dava stared at him, thoughtfully listening to his words, and perhaps guessing what it was that he could never say, but whether he did or he didn’t at least he knew enough not to ask any more.

  “The dragons told us what you did, and that you had saved us from our own kin. That you killed a demon and freed a dragon from its clutches. That you killed a nest of vampires Afri had brought forth of our own people. You are a hero and a debt is owed.” It must have been difficult for Dava to say that Alan knew, and yet he still felt no need to be conciliatory.

  “No debt is owed.” With four words he simply cut him off, leaving him nothing more to say and looking somewhat shocked by his bluntness. Almost as would an elf. But Dava wasn’t finished and he wasn’t an elf, and he quickly recovered his determination.