“Son of a bitch!” I said. “Do you know how much boiled leather costs?”
I caught my cape and threw it over his head. I leaped, bringing my elbow straight down. I smashed it into his skull and his knife clattered to the ground. His head was a different shape when I let him fall. Now it was me and the boxer.
He wasn’t the tallest or the biggest, but he looked plenty strong. His stance told me he was a veteran fighter. His leather gloves told me he meant business. They had a padded look around the knuckles.
“Sap gloves?” I asked.
“Yep.”
Damn. You could punch through a wall with gloves like that. The lead powder protected his fists and added weight to his blows. Mine were lined with reactive mail but his were almost as good. He jabbed—fast—and I barely dodged. He came in with a looping right cross and I moved to duck.
Something exploded in my midsection. He’d feinted and landed an uppercut that nearly lifted me off my feet. He grabbed me and went for a knee in the crotch but I twisted and took it on the thigh. I had to get out of this. He went for another uppercut and I took it on the arm. I grabbed his collar and head-butted him in the chest. Not the best target, but he backed off.
“You’re pretty good,” he said.
“You’re not.” I burst out of a crouch and nailed him in the stomach. Knocked the wind out of him. He lashed out and got some distance between us. “Nice gloves,” he said. “But I have something you don’t.”
“What’s that?” I asked, and something bit my ankle.
“Friends in low places.”
I looked down and it was the one-eared guy. He was still in the fight! I shook free, but it was enough for the boxer to hit me in the temple. The lights exploded and almost blacked out. I fought to keep from losing consciousness. I’d wake up in a bad place—if I ever woke up at all. I got my arms up in time to catch most of the blows. I deflected them as best I could but still took a pounding around my shoulders. I kept going. I fell to one knee and tackled him around the leg. There was a snap as the leg bent backward.
“Aaah! Aaaugh!”
“You’re young. You’ll walk again.”
The one-eared guy crawled toward me, spitting curses and teeth. He grabbed for my leg but I bent down and caught him by the mouth. My fingers dug into the bed of his tongue. I looked him in the eye—I had his attention.
“You’re brave. But it won’t take much to rip off your jaw. You’re also on the ground, and I am wearing steel-toed boots. Do you understand me?”
He nodded as best he could.
“Good boy. Stay down.”
I retrieved my cape. It was more red than green but I put it on. I turned to face Rimethil. He held a stiletto to the girl’s throat. She was shivering.
“Back up!” he said. “Back up or I kill her!”
I held up my hands. “Easy.”
“Not one step closer!”
I kept my hands up, palms showing. “Rimethil, I know this looks bad, but it wasn’t entirely your fault… things can happen in a panic situation, but you’ve done a good job of minimizing the damage. Nobody else needs to get hurt, okay?”
“Don’t give me that headology bullcrap. Back up. I mean it!” The knife drew blood. The girl sobbed.
The younger elf screamed. “He’s gonna kill her! He—he’s gonna kill her!”
There were half a dozen things I could do from where I was standing. Three would disarm. Three would kill. None had a good chance of leaving the girl alive. I lowered my hands. “I believe you.”
“Then get out of here, cunt!” Rimethil said. “Yeah, get out of here!”
I walked backward slowly. When I was far enough I turned and looked.
“Go on, get out of here!”
I turned a corner and disappeared.
“Heh. Ah-heh. We showed her.”
“I don’t want any part of this, Rimethil. We should let the girl go.”
Rimethil pointed the knife at the other elf. “Shut up, man. I came here for pussy and by the gods I’m getting it.” He licked the girl’s cheek. She whimpered.
“Is it true what they say about halfling girls? That you’re all sooo tight?”
“Let her go or—or you’re on your own!”
“Shut up, Berothien, or you’re next!” He pointed the knife at him again. That’s when I punched through the wall and grabbed him by his hair. I knocked him against the wall and he let go the girl.
“You like tight holes?” I asked. “Tell me, pretty boy, do you remember being born?”
He screamed. I pulled him through the hole in the wall. He wasn’t very pretty after that.
I kicked the hole wider and stepped through. Something squished under my boot. I ignored it. I took out a tube and pulled the pin. The flare hung in the sky.
The girl ran into my arms. “Oh gods! Thank you. Oh, thank you.”
I held her. “Miss, you’ve suffered an emotional shock. Do you have any family in the city?”
“N-no. I just got here.”
“There’s a homeless shelter not far from here. It has doctors and healers. I’ll take you there once the watch arrives.”
“Thank you, oh, thank you.” She started crying. I wrapped her in my cape.
“Do—do I have to be here?”
I looked at the boy. “Berothien, wasn’t it? House Larenn?”
“Yes. Oh, gods, don’t tell my parents.”
“That’s the least of your worries. You’ll be lucky if you don’t go to prison for this.”
“I didn’t know! I’ve never done anything like this! We were looking for hookers.”
“You thought this girl, all bundled up in homespun, was a lady of the night?”
“Rimethil saw her! They chased her in here. I just followed.”
The girl was still shaking, but hadn’t denied any of it.
“You have poor taste in friends, but I don’t think you’re guilty of anything else. Get out of here.”
“Thank you. Thank you!”
I silenced him with a look. “I’ll remember this, Berothien Larenn. House Elanesse has ears everywhere.” I lifted my boot and peeled off his friend’s ear. “See? So, if I learn you’ve tried it again, you’re gonna find out what else I can tear off. Now go home to your mother!”
It was near dawn when I returned to my father’s house. I made my way to my apartments and ordered breakfast through the speaking tube. The kitchen staff would be doing the morning bake but I deserved a fry-up.
“We’ll have it up there in thirty minutes.”
“Thanks, Joyce. Appreciate it.”
I went to the mirror to take stock. I removed the bracers and slipped off the gloves, then sat down to deal with the greaves and boots. The shoes came off with the help of a boot jack but I had to pull off the socks by hand. Straightening up, I unbuckled the harness of belts, straps, and pouches. I stripped off my kneepads. The leather wasn’t cracked, thankfully. I also inspected the pieces from my shoulders and elbows—they needed cleaning.
I unstrapped the leather cuirass and frowned. The punk’s knife had damaged the outer leather. Enchanted mail glittered through the cracks. It would have to be repaired, which meant a visit to the shop. I had spares though, so it could wait. Unzipping my jumpsuit, I peeled off the last of my armour. I was left wearing the same bodystocking that royal guardsmen wore. I stepped out of the bodystocking and tossed the protective cup to the carpet.
Looking into the mirror, I saw a young elf-woman in her underwear. She was perhaps a little taller and more muscular than was fashionable. If the underwear wasn’t as flattering as it could be, that was because they were meant to be practical, not pretty. They might be drab, but they were comfortable.
There was some bruising around the ribs and upper arms. I also had a split lip and a black eye. None of it worth a doctor’s visit, so I undressed completely and stepped into the shower. The hot water was plentiful and I allowed myself fifteen minutes of steamy, soapy luxury.
I was in
my dressing gown when someone knocked. I said come in and the breakfast trolley entered.
Followed by my father.
CHAPTER 5: MEERWEN
“Room service!” he said. “Tip generously—I’m working my way through mage school.”
“Daddy!” I hugged him. He hugged back and I gasped.
He let go instantly. “Ribs bothering you?” He gently tilted my face up. I pursed my lips, but there was no hiding my injuries. He looked at them for a long moment, then sighed.
“Sometimes I wish you were like other girls. If a boyfriend had done this to you, I would have known what to do.”
“I can take care of myself.”
“Ah, the glamorous life of a vigilante. I would say more, but this splendid meal grows colder as we speak. Coffee?”
I shook my head. “I’m going to bed afterward.”
We pulled the trolley to the breakfast nook and sat down to eat. I loaded my plate with bacon, ham, and sausages, everything greasy and crisp. I attacked them with a fork. The side dish was yesterday’s rice, fried with peppers and topped with egg. I demolished that with the spoon. There were fried tomatoes, fried potatoes, and triangles of golden fried bread. There was coffee, chocolate, and watered wine.
It was many long minutes before I looked up at Father. He was sipping coffee and munching a dry waffle. “It’s been four hundred years since I had an appetite like yours. A pity. Joyce is an excellent cook, as halflings usually are.” He looked out the window. “Are we ready to continue our discussion?”
I drizzled a waffle in cheese and birch syrup. “Not a vigilante,” I said.
“Excuse me?”
“You called me a vigilante, but royal guardsmen are authorized to make arrests.”
“But they usually leave that to the Watch, which is drawn from the city guard. They certainly don’t lurk in alleyways looking for hoodlums to beat up.”
“I do not lurk. I patrol.”
He rolled his eyes. “If you put half as much effort into your love life… I’m simply looking out for you. Your mother and I were expecting you at the opera.”
“Heh. I told you I’d be there, didn’t I? It’s not like you’re having Angrod followed.”
He said nothing, only steepled his fingers.
“You are having him followed, aren’t you?”
“I am aware of him, shall we say. It’s nothing personal—Angrod is a nice enough boy. It’s what he represents that’s dangerous.”
“A nice enough boy?”
“He’s a decent boss and a brave man in an emergency. He also has a hard time taking his duties seriously. I disapprove of his taking the throne, to say nothing of dating you.”
“You don’t think he’ll make a good king?”
“I have no idea. The point is, the realm has plenty of good leaders and decent men. Some of them are even in government. Meanwhile, apart from Angrod’s questionable ancestry, there’s nothing special about him. Somehow, he deserves to run a kingdom?”
“You’re just worried that you might have to answer to him.”
“No one man should have all that power, least of all someone who hasn’t earned it. That’s why I have contingency plans. For instance, if you marry Angrod that’ll give me some influence over him.”
I stood up. “So that’s the plan? Either make him a son-in-law or—or a corpse? And you’d use me as bait either way?”
He looked pained. “I couldn’t ever hurt you. Corinthe was the work of a rogue agent. Angrod’s friend took care of him, and the rest were killed or otherwise dealt with. I made sure.”
“And you’ll never try to have Angrod killed?”
He took my hands. “As long as you have affection for him, I will not harm him.”
I hated this. Too much was left unsaid. Was I talking to Findecano the father, or Findecano the politician? “Can we change the subject? I’m sure there are lots of other things we can talk about. Those rings, for instance.”
“Oh, you noticed?”
“Daddy, you haven’t changed your hairstyle in a hundred years. Of course I noticed! Also, they’re kind of chunky.”
“They are, aren’t they?” He raised his hand. The ring was on his middle finger. “Nevertheless, I like them. I think they go with my eyes.”
“Aren’t you too old for a midlife crisis?”
“Never.”
Sixteen years ago:
In the forest of Corinthe we rode in darkness and in silence. No one spoke. We had miles to go and nobody had slept. Tired as we were, the end of our journey drew near. My men and I had ridden across the realm and encountered danger and death. Barbarians had attacked and we had lost three men. But now our quarry’s home city was days away.
We were the task force charged with the capture of Angrod Veneanar—pretender to the throne, were-dragon, and murderer. He had escaped me once. I promised myself he would not do so again.
Someone coughed. Someone muttered. No one likes a forced march, especially on the darkest night of the year. There was no moon and little starlight. All of us were using our elven Sight just to follow the narrow trail.
I looked around. The woods looked lonely in my enhanced vision. I saw snowflakes gently drifting. Feanaro sidled up. “What are you thinking, lieutenant?”
My Sight made his blue skin look like milk, his eyes like pools of tar. I controlled my breathing and adjusted my Sight. His skin turned transparent and his bones started glowing. That was a little better.
“I’m thinking I’d rather be alone,” I told the elven skeleton. I was used to this vision mode, but something was off. I hadn’t trust my second-in-command since he’d propositioned me. He had been the perfect gentleman ever since, but it still made me uneasy. “And shouldn’t you be on point?”
“There’s nothing ahead for miles,” he said. “The woods are lovely, are they not?”
I grunted. “They are remote. Not a single farmhouse for hours. You ask me, this would be the perfect place for an ambush…” I stopped and turned in the saddle. “Everyone, count off!”
The shouts went down the line. Eleven men plus myself made twelve. “Lyrion. Where’s Lyrion?”
“He was bringing up the rear!”
“Well, fetch him!” Feanaro said.
“Wait—” I said. Three men cantered off.
“Goddammit, Feanaro, they could be heading into a trap!”
“Don’t be ridiculous. They’ll be back in a few minutes.”
Five minutes passed.
Ten minutes.
“Dammit, dammit. Everyone, we’re turning around!”
BOOM
The explosion tore through our column, scattering men and pieces of men. Suddenly I was covered in blood. I lifted an arm and barely deflected an arrow. “Attaaack!” I screamed.
Our mages cast fireballs in all directions, saturating the area. Trees shattered. Snow turned to steam. The air thundered with sorcerous energies. We put spurs to our horses and went back the way we came. Unfortunately, the ambushers had closed the trap.
A pit opened up on the trail. We leaped over sharpened stakes.
“Aaaugh—ughk!”
Marcanon wasn’t so lucky. I hope he died quickly.
We tried to watch the ground but arrows kept coming and we were going too fast. Igwazhen didn’t see the wire until too late. It was at neck-height for a mounted man, and as a mage he wore no armour.
“Come on! Come on!” I said. “Airadan, where’s Feanaro? Airadan? Why are you slowing down?”
He looked at me. Blood spilled from the wound in his armpit. “Fen’s not… can’t trust…” He slumped onto his horse and slid out of the saddle. I reined in my mount to pick him up, but hooded figures burst from the trees. They carried long stakes that they butted into the ground so the points faced me. My horse reared. Cursing, I balanced in the saddle and fought for control. I saw one of the killers raise a hammer over Airadan.
“Meerwen, help!” Then his skull was crushed in its helmet.
Almost weeping, I turned and galloped down a side path. But they’d planned for that too. I leaped the pit, ducked the wire, and crashed into the fallen tree. I was thrown forward. I landed rolling. My horse—her front legs were broken. She screamed and thrashed. The woods were alive. I could hear taunting laughter. I didn’t have much time.
“I’m sorry.” I drew my knife and did what was necessary. Then I ran.
I wasn’t thinking clearly. The explosion, the deaths of my entire command. Also, it seemed that the Elendil Order was after me.
Iron Elf - A Race Reborn (Book 2) Page 3
