Who Let the Dogma Out (The Elven Prophecy Book 1)

by Theophilus Monroe

  I shrugged. “He’s traumatized every time we get in the car. At least he was before we met you and you held him in the passenger seat.”

  “What can I say?” Layla asked. “I’ve got the touch.”

  “You can say that again,” I quipped.

  Layla flashed me a semi-devious grin. She was recalling the night before, re-envisioning all the fun we’d had, even as I was. “Remember, just play it cool.”

  “Do you have it with you?” Hector asked.

  “I do,” Layla said. “Shitty move, by the way. I thought we were getting along fine. We could have talked about it, you know. No need to kidnap the cat.”

  “Your father said you were opposed to his plans,” Hector said. “He wanted me to be sure you’d give it up.”

  “Well, we’re here,” Layla said. “We have the Blade. Now give Caspar his cat back.”

  “Yeah,” Agnus interjected. “Give me back, you pointy-eared freak!”

  “Gladly!” Hector shouted. “This animal tested my patience. Human, you need to teach your animal some manners.”

  “Are you going to come down from that boat?” Layla asked.

  “Why don’t you come up here?” Hector asked.

  Layla and I exchanged glances. The boat was going to make B’iff coming on him suddenly a bit more difficult. Presuming, of course, that B’iff was out there. He said he would be, and we were trusting that this wasn’t the sort of meeting he’d forget to attend.

  We climbed into the boat.

  “So, you changed your mind?” Hector asked.

  Layla shrugged. “I guess I came around. The only way to get peace is to win the war. I mean, if we just recharged the ley lines like I hoped, the war would keep going on, as you said. And besides, we can always come back now that we have the Blade and charge it again to recharge our ley lines after we win the war.”

  Hector cocked his head. “Layla, I know you. There’s something you aren’t telling me.”

  “We slept together,” I blurted. It was the first thing I could think to say. I mean, I knew he wouldn’t like it, but it would change the subject.

  Hector shook his head. “I still love you, Layla. And I hope to show you in time that I’m the real chosen one.”

  Layla nodded. “Perhaps you’re right. I’m sorry, Caspar. This was a mistake, but I appreciate your help.”

  I sighed. Yeah, I knew she was bullshitting me for Hector’s sake, but I had to put on enough of an act to demonstrate my disappointment. “I mean, I suppose it wouldn’t ever work between a human and an elf anyway.”

  “Finally,” Hector said. “The human gets some sense. Now, how about the Blade, and we can let the human and his cat be on their way.”

  Layla pulled out the Blade, unwrapped it carefully, and extended it toward Hector.

  He dropped Agnus on the rust-covered deck as he took the Blade in his hand.

  Agnus jumped into my arms.

  Then we heard B’iff roaring some kind of orcish war cry as he leaped onto the side of the boat and pulled himself into it, forcing the whole boat to shake as he landed on his feet.

  But Hector didn’t dive into the water, and he didn’t make a run for the gate. Instead, he plunged the fake Blade into his own gut.

  “Now you’ll see that I’m the true chosen one.”

  Chapter Forty

  Hector doubled over.

  “Hector, what the hell!” Layla shouted.

  B’iff took two steps back.

  “Orc, what are you looking at?” Hector asked.

  B’iff was speechless.

  I was too.

  “Layla,” Hector said. “I can feel the magic coursing through me, but I can’t heal my wound.”

  “Hector,” Layla said. She looked at me, wide-eyed and shocked. We hadn’t expected this. Sure, I knew Hector had believed at one point he was destined to be the chosen one. I figured he was still in love with Layla. But she didn’t love him. He knew it, too. Would he risk his life to prove he was the chosen one? He knew I’d fulfilled all the other marks. If he’d been in contact with the elves in New Albion, if he’d spoken to them and their seal on the next prophecy had broken, he knew that the chosen one would destroy the Blade of Echoes.

  Of course, he didn’t know we knew that.

  “Don’t trust him,” Agnus piped up.

  Before he could finish his thought, Layla was coursing golden magic into his wound.

  Hector coughed, then stood up.

  “I still live!” Hector said. “The proof now stands before your eyes. I am the chosen one!”

  Layla and I exchanged glances.

  “What?” Hector asked. “Why doubt it? I survived a wound by the Blade of Echoes, did I not? And unlike this impostor, I’m an elf!”

  B’iff still stood there in silence.

  “Why is it no one is reacting to the fact that there’s a fucking orc standing right here in the boat?”

  Layla said, “Hector…”

  “Unless this piece of trash isn’t the Blade of Echoes. Unless you were all working together to try to trick me.” Hector twirled the imitation Blade in his hand.

  “Hector, we can’t let you have it.”

  Hector tossed the fake Blade into the air, caught its handle, and spun it in his hand a few times. “I have to hand it to Fred. He did quite a fine job on this one.”

  “I knew I shouldn’t have trusted him,” Layla muttered under her breath.

  “Oh, it wasn’t Fred who told me. That piece of human garbage has been looking for a way to undermine your father’s plans from Day One. I made him the leader of the Cult of the Elven Gate so he’d remain in public view. So those lesser cultists loyal to me could keep an eye on him.”

  “The boy,” I asked. “The one we met at the fair.”

  “Yes,” Hector said. “The one with the awful accent. He’s quite eager. He believes if he gives me the information I require that I’ll teach him magic. Foolish human.”

  “Finally, someone who understands!” Agnus piped up, pacing around my feet. “Stupid, stupid humans.”

  Hector seized Layla and placed the fake Blade on her neck. “Give me the real Blade, human, or Layla gets it.”

  “Don’t listen to him, Caspar. If you give it to him, we all die anyway.”

  I said, “Layla, I can’t lose you. Not like this.”

  “That’s right, human. Hand it over.”

  I reached into my pocket and felt the Blade of Echoes tingle in my grip. Then I focused.

  Hector had given me the answer when he told me B’iff had the Blade back at the springs. Layla had said as much, too. If B’iff was able to draw on the magic within the Blade of Echoes, he could do incredible things.

  I closed my eyes.

  “Don’t think about it, human.”

  “Just let me say a quick prayer,” I retorted.

  Hector sighed. “Humans and their religion.”

  But I was visualizing the magic in the Blade, I felt it, and I envisioned it coursing into the fake Blade.

  The Blade we’d made couldn’t hold as much magic as the original. B’iff had said that any enchantable item, if overwhelmed by magic from a more powerful source, might be destroyed. That was why the Blade of Echoes could only be destroyed at the Earth’s magical core. Forcing magic from the Blade of Echoes into the replica was my best shot.

  I visualized all the magic I could feel flowing from the Blade of Echoes into the replica in Hector’s hand.

  “I told you!” Hector said. “Don’t try anything, or she’s dead!”

  But just as Hector was about to slice her throat, the Blade dissolved in his hand, and Hector started to choke. He released Layla.

  “What have you done?”

  “You sacrificed yourself, Hector, for the sake of calling out our ruse. Your sacrifice attuned your soul to the false Blade.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “The Blade has been destroyed. I’m sorry, Layla, it was the only thing I could think of to do.”
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br />   Layla nodded, then grabbed Hector by the scruff of his neck as he gasped for air. Just as she was about to heave him off the boat into the river, his body dissolved into a cloud of golden dust.

  Layla shed a tear.

  “That son of a bitch,” she said.

  “I know you were close. I’m sorry,” I said.

  Layla shook her head. “No, he was a dick. But I did once believe I’d marry him. It was a long time ago. It’s just a shame it had to come to this.”

  B’iff coughed into his hand. “I hate to interrupt this moment, but I think someone’s coming.”

  “Coming?” I asked.

  B’iff looked down at the water. “Through the portal. It’s open from the other side.”

  Three shadowy figures, riding some kind of creatures I’d never seen. They looked like eels, slithering through the water.

  “What the hell is that?” I asked.

  “It’s my father,” Layla said.

  “And he has reinforcements,” B’iff added.

  The three shadows materialized. As they appeared, the gateway flickered. Layla had said the gate could only handle a few people over the course of a full moon. The king wouldn’t have come with reinforcements if he’d felt there was any other option.

  An older man with a long black beard and beady eyes, wearing a long red cloak, was riding one of the eel-like creatures. It slithered through the water toward our position with him on its back.

  The other two elves—knights, I supposed—flanked him.

  “We’re screwed,” Agnus said. “Thanks for saving me, just in time to see you get your ass handed to you by the elf king.”

  “Shut up,” I snapped.

  “Stand back,” B’iff said, putting his hand on my chest.

  “He’s right,” Layla said. “This is between my dad and me. Let me handle it.”

  Chapter Forty-One

  The two knights who followed Layla’s father out of the portal went after B’iff. He evaded their attempt to seize him by leaping off the boat onto the bluffs and taking off through the woods. I could only hope he’d manage to escape, but they had their eels or whatever the hell they were, and they could move fast. I didn’t particularly like B’iff’s chances.

  The king approached us, his face beet-red. He dismounted from his eel and stood in front of us. He didn’t acknowledge my presence.

  “Insolent daughter!” King Brightborn snapped, his brow furrowed and his lip curled.

  “Daddy,” Layla was clenching her fists, and tears poured out of her eyes. “Why did you lie to me? Why did you lead me to believe that all this time, I was coming here to see if humanity would welcome us if we weren’t able to save our home when you never wanted to save New Albion? You wanted to use the Blade of Echoes to open a permanent gate.”

  King Brightborn narrowed his eyes. “Matters of state are not for little girls to know.”

  “Matters of state?” Layla asked. “Hector knew. Hell, there’s a whole cult of humans here who know what you’d planned. But not your daughter?”

  “Tell me, Layla. If I had told you what my plans were, would you have reacted any differently than you are now?”

  Something yanked me from behind. The next thing I knew, I was bound by some kind of rope. One of the king’s knights, one of the two I thought had gone after B’iff, had circled back around.

  “Let him go!” Layla shouted. “You don’t know what you’re doing!”

  “We’re seizing the impostor. The one you seem so convinced is the chosen one.”

  I struggled against the rope. There was still plenty of magic in the Blade of Echoes. They didn’t know it was in my pocket, but I had to be smart. I didn’t know what I was doing when it came to magic, and if I gave away the fact that I was using it as a source since I still struggled to draw magic directly from the Earth, they’d surely take the Blade. After all, it was what they were after.

  “Some chosen one,” King Brightborn said as he stepped toward me. “Such an ordinary man! Simple-minded and weak of frame.”

  “He’s fulfilled the first four marks of the prophecy,” Layla said.

  “Coincidence,” King Brightborn said. “And probably a little luck. Humans are curious creatures. They live on this planet with more magic than they realize coursing through nature, all around them. But instead of magic, they turn to inventions, to their machines, and dishonor their world.”

  I stared. “It’s more honorable to use magic to wage perpetual wars?”

  “Silence, human!” the king shouted. “You will not speak unless you’re spoken to. Not if you hope to survive the night.”

  I tried to look around. Where the hell was Agnus? He’d left. What about B’iff? Did he make it? Since one elven knight who went after him hadn’t returned, I could only assume he’d so far managed to evade capture.

  “What should we do with the human?” the knight asked.

  “He killed one of our own. There is only one thing we can do.”

  “Daddy, no!” Layla said. “My soul is attuned to him. You can’t.”

  King Brightborn raised his hand as his knight was preparing to draw his blade, presumably to separate my head from my shoulders.

  “Your soul is attuned to his? To a human’s?” The king was clenching his fist.

  Layla nodded. “When I helped heal him after he was struck by the Blade of Echoes.”

  King Brightborn snorted and paced in the small space that was available on the rusted-out boat. “Your actions, daughter, have been treasonous. There is only one punishment dictated by elven dogma for treason.”

  “You wouldn’t!” I shouted. “She’s your daughter!”

  “Am I not entitled to a trial, Father?” Layla cried.

  The king shook his head. “A fair trial is only guaranteed to those whose crimes are committed on New Albion.”

  “That’s bullshit!” I yelled.

  “Silence, human!”

  “And even more, our laws do not protect humans from acts of war. If we execute the human, your death will be circumstantial. No one ever needs to learn of your treacheries.”

  “No, Daddy! You don’t understand. He is the chosen one.”

  King Brightborn winced. “This is for the sake of your memory, daughter. If this ends today, the rest of our kingdom will never have to learn of your disgusting affair with the human or your treason.”

  “This isn’t about my reputation, Father. It’s about yours!”

  The king placed his hand on Layla’s shoulder. “Do you think I never loved you, daughter? I’ve always loved you, but I wanted more for you than this.”

  I spotted movement out of the corner of my eye.

  Agnus was sneaking around the side of the bluff, where a series of cords were fastened to concrete blocks, presumably responsible for keeping the old boat suspended above the river.

  What was he doing? There was no way a simple house cat could gnaw through those. They weren’t ropes. These were metal cables.

  But maybe that was not what he was going to do? I mean, how much did these elves know about what a cat might be capable of?

  Agnus whistled. “Hey, shitheads!”

  I have no idea how he made that whistling sound, given that he doesn’t have lips. But somehow, he pulled it off.

  The king and the knight looked at Agnus, who was going to town as if trying to chew through the cable.

  “Take care of that cat,” the king said to the knight who had nearly drawn his sword.

  “Caspar, now!” Agnus shouted.

  I didn’t know for sure what my cat was planning, but he’d provided a distraction—enough of one that I might be able to charge the king.

  What the hell, I thought. Here goes nothing.

  My arms were still constrained by the rope, but my legs were free. I charged the king in a fury.

  As my body collided with his, we tumbled over the edge of the boat.

  “Caspar!” Layla shouted.

  It only took a split second. The fall fr
om the boat to the water felt like forever.

  I tried to clear my mind. If I could fly, I could escape, but the water hit my face before I could get my mind around it. I held my breath, struggling against my bindings.

  I’d seen a few escape artists pull off stuff like this in the past, but I didn’t have that skill.

  I tried to visualize the cords around my body breaking. Nothing happened.

  I tried to imagine myself flying out of the water. I was in too much of a panic, my mind racing with fear. Of all the ways to die, drowning was among those I feared the most.

  And if I die, Layla will, too. I had to calm my mind. For her sake, I had to focus.

  I couldn’t take a breath. I’d done that before when meditating. Inhaling and exhaling. Allowing nothing but my breath to arrest my attention. I heard my heartbeat racing. From fear? From lack of oxygen? I wasn’t sure.

  The Blade of Echoes was still in my pocket. Maybe I could still use its magic. When I touched the Blade before, I felt its tingle. But now I had to use my mind. I had to draw the power from the Earth itself.

  Release. I said in my mind, visualizing the ropes around my body breaking into a million pieces. I moved my arms, and they were free. I opened my eyes.

  It wasn’t my magic. It was B’iff! He’d untied me. He gestured toward my pocket.

  I was sure he wasn’t propositioning me. He was telling me to use the Blade.

  At least, I hoped that’s what he was trying to say. He wasn’t my type.

  I reached into my pocket, touched the Blade, and felt its magic flow into my body.

  B’iff gestured toward a blinding golden glow. The light radiated through the water. Even the muddy Mississippi couldn’t dull its brightness. I squinted my eyes—the gate between the worlds.

  As I drew on the magic, my urge to breathe went away. He had taught me to do that when he showed me how to travel the ley lines.

  Then, B’iff guided his finger away from the gate to New Albion along a faint line—the ley line.

  We could travel it to Meramec Springs. He wanted me to do it—take the Blade back to Meramec Springs and destroy it.

  I kicked my way to the bottom. I couldn’t fight the Mississippi’s current, but I wasn’t heading for the gate. I was going for the ley line that ran the length of the Mississippi and the length of the Meramec.