Iron Elf - A Race Reborn (Book 2)

by Klay Testamark

  I watched it shrink in the distance. You’d think the heir to the throne would live there, but Findecano had blocked me. He declared it had been the seat of government since the city’s founding. The government was now headed by a council of governors, and since that council had been using the palace for over a thousand years it had some tradition behind it. And my living there would have added a little more legitimacy to my status as crown prince. Bottom line, I wouldn’t be moving into the royal palace anytime soon. It was a town hall, not a town house, and Findecano wasn’t going to do me any favours.

  So instead we rented a small mansion at the outskirts of the palace quarter. The neighbourhood wasn’t quite as nice.

  “Remind me again why I can’t afford a better place?” I said as we climbed out.

  “You may be the heir apparent, but the government hasn’t given you a single coin. You’re entirely dependent on family holdings. And a mansion is a mansion.”

  “Pity. A better ocean view would’ve helped me with my princely duties.”

  The carriage porch kept us out of the rain while we waited for Heronimo and Cruix. Their ride pulled up.

  “How was the trip?” I asked as they climbed out.

  Cruix stretched. He ran his hands through his long white hair. “It was passable.”

  As always, it was weird to see the dragon wearing my face. His elf form was a side effect of our sharing the same body for several weeks. His mind had been threatening to take over and I’d barely managed to separate us, building him a new body in the process.

  The process had saved my life, but not without a price. My right arm was a prosthetic all the way to the shoulder.

  “I could use a shower,” Heronimo said. “Oh, hey, rain!”

  He walked into the open air, shedding his clothes as he went.

  I stared. “A barbarian is bathing in our front lawn. Mina, I thought he was housebroken.”

  She rolled her eyes. “He understands indoor plumbing. Doesn’t mean he likes it. At least he’s stopped peeing in the halls.”

  Splashing sounds. “Come on out, the water’s fine!”

  “Brrr. I’m getting frostbite just looking at him. I think I’ll head inside.”

  “Very good, sir.”

  “Yaa—” I jumped sideways and into the rain, shrieked, and jumped back under shelter. “Dagonet, don’t do that.”

  “Milord? I merely opened the door to take your bags. And to inform you that you have a visitor. The capran ambassador.”

  “What’s she doing here?” Mina wondered.

  “Have someone bring out soap and a towel,” I told my assistant. “I won’t have the Northlander air-drying all over my carpets. Excuse me, my rented carpets.”

  “It didn’t make sense to buy!” Mina said. “You know how elves hold onto real estate!”

  I headed to the parlour where the ambassador waited.

  It wasn’t enough to say she was beautiful. As an elf I was used to beauty—even the poorest of my kind has the symmetry of form and face so prized among other races. An elf girl is a lovely thing. An elf woman, with her youthful looks and centuries of experience, is very nearly the perfect lover.

  But few elves were as delicious as the capran woman before me.

  She stood up from the couch, back straight and knees together, and somehow that prim little movement flashed more skin than a dozen dancing girls. Her skin was a creamy gray and her eyes were liquid blue. “Prince Veneanar.” She curtsied. “I bring a message from my liege.”

  “Madam Ambassador.” I bowed. I took her hand and raised it to my lips, but she raised her hand so fast it smacked me in the nose. “Oh!” She giggled. “I beg your pardon. My people don’t practice that form of greeting.”

  I rubbed my nose. “It’s ngokay. How do your people greet each other?”

  “Like this!” She grabbed me by the shoulders and pulled me into a kiss. She was short but solid. Before I knew it she had wrapped her legs around me and we fell into the couch.

  “Oof!” I’d landed sitting down—she was straddling me and giggling. “Why, Prince Veneanar! I see somebody likes me!”

  I didn’t know what to do with my hands, so she took them and placed them on her butt.

  “Madam Ambassador!”

  “Call me Tamril, yes yes. French me like one of your drow girls.”

  Wriggling and giggling and writhing. She was strong, too strong to resist, although to be honest I wasn’t resisting much. She was a sweet little bundle, all firm curves and nervous energy. She smelled of lavender and musk and she covered my neck with sharp kisses. “Mmm. I’m thinking our two nations could work together, Angrod. May I call you Angrod?”

  “I—I—is this really how your people greet each other? You’re making it hard for me—to think. To think!”

  “No. But I like you. I really like you. We’ve met before, do you remember? It was the royal ball.”

  I hadn’t been to a royal ball since… oh gods. “You were there? The night I went dragon? How could I forget! That dress!”

  “Short in the front, long in the back. Business in the front, party in the front.” She kissed me. “Although come to think of it, darling, there’s a party in the rear too.”

  “That wasn’t a good night for me. Or for everyone else.”

  “I watched you transform, and let me tell you something—it was hot. Do you think you could do it again?” She slid lower. “Because I’ve never ridden a real live dragon before. Please? I’ll be good to you.” She slid even lower. Her knees were on the carpet.

  “What. Is. Going. On.”

  “Oh, hello there Mina. Eh heh heh. Just a little diplomacy.”

  “You decided on the direct approach, so you took the ambassador by the horns?”

  I looked at Tamril. I was holding her goat horns like they were handlebars. I let go in a hurry. “Eh heh heh.”

  “Whoah. I may have to take another cold shower.”

  Heronimo had walked into the parlour in nothing but a skimpy towel. Cruix followed and gave me a thumbs-up. “That’s the spirit, Angrod. Breed her! Breed her well!”

  “You might want to turn her around though. It’s a much quicker route to her womb.”

  They high-fived.

  Dagonet walked in. “Sir, you’ve got another visitor.” And of course it was Meerwen.

  “Uh…” I said.

  My sometime-girlfriend turned white, then red, then white again. Her eyebrows went to war against her lips. For a second they looked like they were trying for several expressions at once.

  Auntie Marilla walked in with a trolley. “I’ve made tea, dearies. Tea and hot chocolate. And cinnamon cookies to go with.” She saw Tamril and crinkled into a smile. “Aren’t we a nice girl? But I’ll have you know, we don’t normally do that till after the second date.”

  Then she patted Tamril on the head.

  “Tell me about this message,” I said.

  Tamril and I were in my study. After the chaos earlier (“Angrod, in the parlour, with the ambassador!”) I thought it was a good idea to move the meeting someplace quieter. There’s also the fact that I wanted a solid oak desk between me and the horny goat girl. She looked like she’d climbed over a desk before, but at least it would give me some warning.

  I dipped a finger in my hot chocolate, then took a sip. Tamril said, “Arawn is calling in your marker.”

  I choked. I’d promised a year of service to the capran king, payment for Heronimo’s life. My friend had been poisoned by a sea-wyvern and Arawn had called upon his sorceresses to heal him.

  They’d done quite a bit more than that, for which I was grateful. I hadn’t spoken with Arawn since then, but his nation had been one of the first to recognize my claim to the elven throne. That might have saved my life.

  “Now? He requires my services now? What is this is about?”

  “In three days. As to your mission…” she shook her head. “My liege entrusts me with a great deal, but in this case he has chosen to remain sil
ent.”

  “What can I pack? Did he say?”

  “He didn’t. Just that he needed to speak with you. Why would you need to pack?”

  “No reason.” She didn’t know about the year of service, then.

  “He did say this was a secret meeting. Don’t bring your entourage.”

  CHAPTER 3

  I walked Tamril to the door. I watched her go with some reluctance. She wore a long skirt, but a tight one, and I knew for a fact that she worked out.

  Mina stalked into the room. “Meerwen left. She was going to invite you to dinner, but you seemed to have your hands full.

  “Aw, man!”

  “What is it with you and her? She’s Elanesse—how can this end well?”

  “Says the girl dating out of her species.”

  “At least Heronimo and I aren’t political enemies.”

  “Arawn is calling in his marker. I’m going to be spending time away from home.”

  She stared, then sat heavily in the couch. “Well. Never a convenient time, is there?” She held her head. “You know Findecano’s gonna find some way to use this.”

  “He can do whatever he wants. We owe Arawn. Or have you forgotten?”

  “I haven’t. Okay, spin time. How can this make us look good? Can we say you’re on a diplomatic mission to the Silver World?”

  I shook my head. “Arawn wants this secret. I’ll be going alone in any case.”

  “I don’t think so, milord.”

  “Gah. Dagonet, how long have you been here?”

  “I came in with Mina, sir. You didn’t see me?”

  “I am getting you a bell,” Mina said. “A bell and some flashing lights.”

  “With all due respect, madam, you’re not my boss. Angrod is.”

  They looked at me.

  “What? I just live here.”

  “What I meant to say, sir, was that you shouldn’t go alone. I should accompany you in secret.”

  “How are you going to do that?”

  In response, Dagonet began to sweat. The sweat beaded on her skin. The droplets merged and became a clear film. It flowed over her clothes and began to bend the light. Dagonet disappeared. My pretty redhead assistant had turned invisible.

  “This explains a lot,” Mina said.

  “I rarely do this. I walk softly, speak little, and don’t fidget much. Most people aren’t too observant.”

  “So you’ve never used a veil in my presence?” I asked.

  Dagonet shook her head. The movement was barely visible. “As you can see, or not, I have some small skill at going undetected. I would like to go with you and continue serving as your aide.”

  “That would be useful,” Mina said. “And I’d feel better knowing Angrod was with someone competent.”

  I swallowed my pride and went on. “It’s never come up before, but I have to ask: Are you any good in a fight?”

  “Do I need to be?”

  I felt something cold on my neck. I saw that Dagonet was holding my own letter opener against my throat.

  “She’s good, isn’t she?” Mina said.

  “I am inclined to agree.”

  “Scared to shake your head?”

  “Yep.”

  CHAPTER 4: MEERWEN

  It was a dark and stormy night. The perfect night for evildoers.

  Perched on the spire of an ancient church, I surveyed the city below me. The rain fell in torrents. I shrugged it off. The water was freezing, but clean. That was something to be glad about when the streets overflowed with filth. The gutters and canals had scabbed over with ice and now they choked on snow and floodwater. It was waist-high in places, foaming with rat droppings and worse. The city wasn’t always a sewer, but when it was, all the vermin came out.

  A gust of wind kicked through the streets, rattling the street lamps and agitating their flames. The wind rushed over the rooftops and buffeted me where I crouched. My cape flung behind me. The wind did one more thing: It brought the sound of screaming.

  Time to move. I leaped. Landed on a rooftop and kept going, running toward the screams. They echoed from deep in the old quarter. I ran. Rolled. Leaped. Used magic to extend my jumps so I glided over alleyways and streets. There! I dove into space, somersaulted, and landed in the filthy alley. My cape fell around me and it flowed as I rose to my feet.

  “Oh shit, oh shit, it’s her!”

  I tossed back my sodden hair and took in the scene. Seven of my fellow elves had cornered a halfling woman. She cowered against the wall, thin arms covering her breasts. The tallest man clutched a piece of her dress.

  “Step away from that woman. You—all of you—are under arrest!”

  “Is that the vigilante bitch?” The tall elf was handsome, in a knifelike way.

  “That’s her, Rimethil,” said the youngest boy. They were kids. Well-dressed, therefore rich. Therefore spoiled. Drunk, and indulging their foul appetites in the poorest part of town.

  “What’s a matter, Rimethil?” I said. “Can’t get women on your own?’

  He scowled. His face was a little long, so he wore his blonde hair in a mane. “I won’t be insulted by some leathered-up whore. If you like, you can join this halfling bitch.”

  “I don’t think you understand. It is my duty to take you into custody.” I pulled out several teflar handcuffs and threw them at the ground. “I’d appreciate if you put these on. Come quietly or there will be trouble.”

  They laughed.

  “Let me tell you something, cunt. We’ve heard about you. We thought you might try to interrupt our fun.” Weapons appeared from belts and jacket pockets. A switchblade went snikt. A collapsible baton went clack. “We came prepared, see? Get her!”

  Five men charged. Time slowed.

  I leaped to the left, snapping out a side kick that caught one in the knee. He fell screaming. Amateurs. They should’ve tried to surround me first. Pampered princes taught to fight by private tutors. No idea how to move as a team.

  I showed them the error of their ways. The guy with the messed-up knee was getting up when I punched him in the jaw. I recovered and backhanded him with the same fist. He fell and I hooked a kick into the next guy’s ribs. I stepped in and got another guy in the low back—I caught him by the hair and kneed him twice in the face. The baton came in and got me behind the knee. I fell down and the last man picked me up and threw me into the wall.

  Fireworks in my head. Pain down my back, which I shrugged off like the rain. I caught myself before I folded completely and I looked at my opponent. The last elf was huge. Northlander-sized. He must’ve spent a lot of time in the gym because from neck down he was a slab of muscle. He raised his massive hands and came at me. I flicked my cape at his face. It stunned him—those were the lead weights sewn into the edge. I pushed off the wall and pistoned a kick at his midsection. He stumbled back and I whipped my cape at his eyes. It didn’t hit him, but it kept him from seeing the spinning back kick that caught him in the belt buckle and hurled him into the far wall.

  The one with the baton swung at my head. I raised my right and caught it on the bracer. He was fast—the steel came in again and again, flashing against the steel of my arm protectors. I lashed out, hammer blows, short but powerful. I grabbed his weapon arm and clubbed him in the forearm and bicep. I hit him in the collarbone and grabbed his shoulders. Butted him in the head.

  The big guy came at me. I took him by the hand and introduced him to the wall. He hit headfirst, all the force of his charge focused on a single point on his skull. The impact cracked the ultra-hard glass coating. It threw up dust and bits of concrete. The bruiser slumped to the ground, trailing bits of scalp on the wall. The baton hit me in the elbow. I lashed my hand out and grabbed the wielder by the wrist. I introduced him to my other elbow and broke his jaw. I had barely caught my breath when arms closed around my leg and someone punched me in the mouth.

  “Yeah! Yeah!” Rimethil said. “Do the bitch!”

  I shook my head. The guy whose knee I’d kicked was
holding onto my leg. I raised my other leg and stomped his head into the pavement. He screamed as he lost his front teeth. I reached down and tore off an ear. While he was screaming I threw him at the boxer.

  Someone grabbed my cape. Mistake. I fell to one knee and the safety clasps gave way. I spun around and saw it was the guy with the switchblade. “Hyah! Hyah!” He swung my own cape at me. I ducked and came in punching but he slashed and caught me in the ribs. Didn’t cut through the mail, but he did crack the breastplate.