She turned the surface into a mirror. “I’m going to show you a selection of memories. I think you’ll find them interesting.”
This was high-level magic. The only other practitioner I’d met was the Witch of Deepwood, who’d used it on a halfling girl. This girl had come from another world and knew nothing of Brandish, not even its language. The spell had given her a basic elvish vocabulary and a dash of local lore. According to the Witch, some of the refugees thought that standing still would make them invisible to a wyvern. The giant reptiles didn’t exist in their homeworld, but they believed these apex predators didn’t have good senses when of course they did. These halflings usually didn’t last long.
“Do we have to do this?” I asked. “I don’t mind oral summaries and, frankly, this will probably give me a headache.”
“It’s not the easiest thing for me, either. But it would take too long to describe what I saw, and I don’t have the military training to interpret everything. And you have to see Hafgan. I cannot tell you just how formidable he is—you have to see it for yourself.”
The silvery water flowed up my shoulders and neck. It was cold and I told her so.
“I’m interfacing with your nervous system,” she said. “There may be side effects.”
“My mind to your mind, your fluids to my fluids?” The water crept into my ears and I was suddenly dizzy.
I was breathing hard. I couldn’t move. The water covered my eyes and down the rabbit hole I fell.
I walked up the cliff and looked down at the valley, where the dust of battle swirled.
This is the main invasion force, judging from the presence of Hafgan, the Field Marshal, and other high-ranking officers.
I knew caprans favoured mounted combat. This confirmed it. There wasn’t a single foot soldier. Instead there were several kinds of cavalry. Mobs of horse archers chased one another. Arrows sprang like water birds. The mobs would wheel and shoot in reply. They weren’t mobs, but loose and superbly trained formations. With magically-enhanced eyesight I saw lancers chase a group of bow cavalry, who drew maces and engaged in a running melee. Horse archers dismounting to shoot, the solid footing allowed them to fire faster and more accurately.
How would an elven army fare against this? What about our combat mages?
“Badly,” I said. “We can’t match this level of coordination. It looks a mess, but see how they communicate by drum and flag? They react quickly and that counters our ability to teleport around the battlefield. As for our combat mages, I don’t know.” My voice sounded funny. “A capran sorcerer might match them in terms of raw firepower. Can we get closer?”
Walking away from the cliff, I noticed my balance was different. I looked down. “Whoah, I have cleavage.”
MY cleavage. This is my memory, after all.
I couldn’t stop looking. I’d never seen a woman’s chest from this perspective and Dagonet had an impressive bust, for an elf. She was normally buttoned up, but I saw her bosom was dusted with freckles. Bosom. “Heh heh. Bosom.”
Stop that! You want to break synchronization?
“Okay, okay.” Clearly this wasn’t an exact reconstruction of her memory. She hadn’t talked to herself, or admired herself. She definitely didn’t cup her own butt to see how it felt.
Stop. That.
“Sorry!”
The battle shifted. Across the valley two ranks of cavalry faced each other. They charged.
“That’s crazy,” I said. “They’re not wearing armour. They’re not even carrying shields. They’ll skewer each other!”
Watch.
The horsemen pounded toward each other, their lines ruler-straight, their lances never wavering. The distance between them shrank and they began to glow. Bits of steel appeared out of hammerspace. Thousands of them swarmed like metal bees. The riders passed through clouds of them and emerged in full armour.
“That’s dwarven gear!”
The caprans were clad from head to toe. Even their horses were protected. They were heavy cavalry now and when they met the valley rang. Lances splintered. Armour shattered. Horses screamed and tumbled in the dirt. Bits of armour flew in all directions.
Notice how the armour breaks on impact?
“Those bits launched themselves to lessen the impact. They break so the man doesn’t have to. Ha ha! They’re reforming!”
The two ranks pulled apart, a little less solid. The loose links and plates followed, once again covering each knight in scalework. A few of them discarded the armour and took up their bows.
So. Capran cavalry could go from light to heavy in moments. They could serve as archers, lancers, or mounted infantry. The invasion force was an extremely versatile army. “We are so dead.”
The scene shifted. I was in the capran camp, under a cloak of invisibility. Everything looked dim, like I was wearing sunglasses indoors.
I walked slowly, staying out of the main pathways. I kept track of every pair of eyes, adjusting my camouflage to match. It was an intricate bit of magic and I was impressed at Dagonet’s skill. Not only did the water veil conceal her from sight, it also muffled her steps and contained her scent. Every exhaled breath and drop of sweat was shunted into hammerspace.
The sound of single combat drew us to where Hafgan trained. I wasn’t disappointed. He stood in a circle, bare to the waist but armoured in muscle. His pecs were wide and thick he could probably balance a glass on them. The rest of him was equally massive. And these weren’t vanity muscles—not from the way he moved. A soldier stepped forward and cut low. Hafgan stomped on the blade and clipped the man on the shoulder. The medics pulled the man out of the ring and another man stepped forward. This one parried with his mace and slashed with his knife. Hafgan kicked him out of the ring. The medics got him, too. They had a system going—they collected the wounded as quickly as they were made.
Around the ring, a circle of men. They beat their shields and chanted, cheering when a man tried his luck. These were hard, scarred men, career soldiers, utterly competent at the business of war. Hafgan dealt with them like a scythe to wheat, cutting them down and leaving them for others to gather. He was faster than Laraib, stronger than Herkus, simply better than Lister or Sham.
Hafgan’s face was expressionless, like he was playing Sparrow. He wasted no effort when he fought. He mowed down one hundred opponents without pause. Any of those men would have given me trouble. Some would have given Heronimo trouble. But Hafgan was equal to all. Few lasted more than a minute.
One did manage to cut his shoulder. It bled a bit. Hafgan threw the man out of the ring. Another poked him in the ribs with a sword, but this was a scratch. A two-handed mace swing had chipped a horn.
One hundred men. Hafgan was barely breathing hard. If I were still a dragon, I could’ve taken him. As a puny elf? Might as well write my will. (Heronimo would get the castle, but he’d share the gatehouse with Aunt Marilla and Uncle Erumaren. Mina would get the larger share of my income, to give her independence from her father. Meerwen would get my wine cellar.)
The rest of the invasion force was still practicing manoeuvres. There was an explosion, then a tremor that swept through the valley. The invisibility cloak fell off my back.
The cloak fell away, forming a puddle at my feet. Suddenly I was visible to the entire invasion force. This was only Dagonet’s memory, but I felt a chill when Hafgan turned.
Do you realize what this means? They can create null-magic fields!
“There goes another advantage,” I said.
“A spy! An elven spy! Get him!”
I was aware of the dozen or so weapons I was carrying, from the push dagger up my sleeve to the stiletto in my left boot. Dagonet was an expert in all of them. A rider was almost on top of me. I grabbed his lance and stuck it in the ground, throwing him over my head. I kept the lance and flourished it in two hands. I screamed to Dagonet, “If you kill anyone that would be war!”
Relax.
I broke the lance on my knee and broke a soldier’s
jaw with the blunt end. I rammed the staff into the next man and parried a sabre. Wham. Broke his wrist. I twirled the staff and cocked it behind me. Flourished the other hand and posed like a badass. “Oh yeah.”
Then I threw myself into the hurly-burly. Right and left I struck, cracking arms and collarbones. They came at me from the front and I swept them off their feet. Came at me from behind and I threw them over my shoulders. Swords and shattered horns flew.
Then Hafgan jumped in. With one stroke he cut my stick in two. I backpedalled. “Raaugh!” he said. “Come at me, foe!”
“I’d rather not.” I reached for my belt. He swung again and nearly got me in the neck. I checked the wind and let him have the chilli powder. “In. Your. Face!”
A rider reached down with his sword. I threw him out of the saddle. Plucked smoke bombs from my belt and hurled them into the crowd. “Yeeee-hah! Yeeee-a-hee-ahee ha-heee!” I said. “What the hell? Yiff yiff yee-haa! Yee-aay-eee! Dagonet!”
I got excited!
The warbling yells echoed over the plain, getting louder every time. I rode through the haze, the magic multiplying my howls and hoofbeats. I sounded like an army. “Wa-woo-woohoo! Wa-woo woohoo! Wa-hoooo! A-OO-OO-OO-OOO!” I shivered at that eerie sound.
The whoops and ululations had done their job. The enemy was thoroughly confused and my escape almost certain. I turned and galloped from the valley.
CHAPTER 18: MEERWEN
With dire threats, I got the men moving. We pushed through the dancing girls and into the hall, stumbling past a dozen more girls. They wore nothing but silver collars and bright silver cowbells.
“What was that about?” Mina asked.
“This way!” I led us down a side corridor. “There’s an unguarded tower here.”
“Wait, wait,” Conrad said. “Let us clear our heads.” He stopped at a fountain to splash water in his face. The fountain swelled and reached toward him.
“Conrad! Get up!” Borlog said.
“Whuh? Lemme alone.” He saw the tentacle and reaching for weapons that weren’t there. “Shit!”
The pseudopod made a face—Conrad’s face—and mimed the exact expression. Shit!
“It’s trying to communicate!” Mina said.
I stepped forward. It turned to me, its face changing to mine.
“It’s you!”
I stuck out my tongue and the face did so as well. The rest of its body took shape. It formed a head, a neck, then arms and a torso. What stepped out of the fountain was a naked version of me, sculpted out of water.
“Bitch,” I said. “My nipples aren’t that big.”
It grinned and walked away, hips swaying fluidly. We stared.
“What was that?” I said.
“Some watery tart,” Conrad said. “Raise your hand if you think that was fucking weird.”
The observation tower had a good view of Golden Lake and the Goldore Mountains. It stood apart from the rest of the palace, connected by a narrow bridge.
“This place is closest to the forest,” I said. “We don’t have to climb the tower—I can fly us off the bridge.”
There was a steel gate, but it was no match for Borlog’s strength or my own augmented muscles. We forced it back into place behind us, warping the hinges as we did so.
“Nobody’s getting through that,” I said. “Okay, who’s first?”
“That won’t be necessary,” Conrad said. “Yang, are you there? Can you throw us a line?”
“Right here, boss.” The voice seemed to come from nowhere but I turned on my Sight and saw a tunnel of focused air. “Took a while to find you. Throwing a line.”
Something landed on the bridge. The seed sprouted leaves, then vines. The plant took root upon the bridge and begin twisting around the guardrail. The last member of Conrad’s team had to be a hedge wizard, an unschooled but talented magic user. The vines had reached to the ground. They twisted among themselves, forming a sturdy line.
“Okay.” Yang sounded a bit breathless. “One at a time, guys. Borlog goes last, so if the vine breaks we only lose a fat man.”
“Why I…” Borlog said.
“Stop!”
Apollonia ran toward us. The gate was between us. The girl in the golden catsuit dived at the gate—and appeared on the other side. She landed rolling and came up in a fighting stance.
“Go,” I said. “Everybody, go!”
“Look who’s with them,” Apollonia said. “The Queen Bitch of the Universe.”
I held my hands loose at my sides. “What is your problem?”
“You broke his heart. And where’s my dress?”
“It’s rags. Tell you what, I’ll buy you a new dress.”
“It was a gift.” Her first punch was a right jab. I slapped it away. Her second punch was a left hook—I tapped her on the bicep. She tried to kick at my ribs and I blocked with an elbow. Backhanded her cheek. “Slut!” she said. The bridge was narrow. We couldn’t circle. Instead we drifted from side to side. She snapped a punch at my jaw and I slipped it, tagged her in the side. She followed with an uppercut. Trapped it and punched the same spot. She stumbled away, cradling her ribs.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” I said. “Why don’t you do something useful and untie your boss?”
“He’s more than my boss,” she spat. “We’re lovers.”
I laughed. “So you’re the rebound girl? That explains the catsuit. And the haircut. Which was my haircut years ago.”
“I chose to look like this!”
“Did you decide all at once, or did he mould you into that? Face it, girl, I’m the original and you’re the knockoff.”
“I’ll knock your head off!” She launched herself at me. She was feral but experienced, a natural fighter who’d received training only after learning in the streets. She punched and snarled, cursing all the way. “Bitch bitch bitch!”
I ducked and parried. She was strong, as strong as I was, and fast. My advantage was her rage. She landed a punch and I kicked her stomach. She flew back and grabbed the rails. I glanced back to check on my comrades—they were gone. I was about to follow when Apollonia launched herself. I got my guard up but she leaped and teleported behind me, landing a kick on my lower back. “Ah!” I whirled.
“Can you do that, bitch?” she asked, and did it again.
She’d been testing me like I’d been testing her. Now she showed me how she really fought. She blinked away from my attacks and through my guard, landing blows no matter how I covered up. I put everything into defence but she did the opposite, her feet and fists landing like sledgehammers. She’d leap into the air and reappear behind me—or above me. She stomped on my head or punched my kidneys. I was drowning under her attacks. She would wear me down unless I did something smart.
She tended to hit three times, then teleport. She punched, punched, kicked, and blinked. Came at me from the other side and kicked, punched, and kicked. Teleported again. She had to leave the ground when she did that. I kicked low, hoping to trip her. She came in high with a flying heel kick to the side of my head. The world exploded and came back upside-down. I grabbed the bridge to keep from falling. I felt like vomiting but I’d seen it. She always looked where she was about to teleport.
That was enough. She jabbed, kicked, and kicked. Leaped. I waited till she was in the air, then pistoned a foot where she was going to be. She reappeared in time to catch it in the stomach. That sent her to the rail. I came in hard, punching to keep her off balance. She tried to jump but I brought a heel down into her shoulder like an axe. She blinked again. I let her. I grabbed her arm, then brought my other arm down on it. Crack! “Aaaugh!”
“There are two hundred and six bones in your body,” I said. “That’s one.”
“I’ll kill you, you bitch!” She grabbed a knife from nowhere and slashed at my face. I threw her off the bridge.
It was only a two-storey drop. She landed on grass and started moaning in pain. There was the sound of boots coming our way. The palace guard was
coming. I launched myself into the wind and flew away.
We pulled out of the fog. Snow Mountain seemed to float between sea and sky. I jumped out of the boat and waded to shore. “I have returned.”
Mina leaped into deeper water. “Ackpth!”
I pulled her out. “Are you wearing waterproof underwear too? Why’d you do that?”
We beached the boat and built a fire. The mountain was almost a perfect cone. The temple buildings spiralled around its summit. Mina pulled her blanket closer and looked at it. “Funny-looking mountain.”
Zukaldi nodded. “Looks out of place.”
“What are you talking about?” Conrad asked. “It’s a bloody big rock. Which we have to climb.”
Iron Elf - A Race Reborn (Book 2) Page 12
