“We missed our chance here. Keep following them and I will report to our master.”
“You always get the cushy jobs.”
“I’ve always been the clever one. It’s not my fault you’re bad at everything.”
“Say that again. If I weren’t tired from raising the dead I’d have run you through already.”
“But you are tired. While I am well-rested.”
“We both know I’d beat you in a fair fight,” the spy said. He adjusted his fox mask and glared at Dagonet, who laughed.
“My dear man,” Dagonet said, “when has the Elendil Order ever fought fair?”
* * *
“Thanks for snagging my arm back there,” Heronimo said.
“No problem,” Conrad said, and pulled his blanket closer.
Heronimo stretched his left arm. We’d bandaged it tightly but had otherwise done nothing except rinse the stumps and press them together. His healing factor was that good.
We’d caught up with our horses and mules after our undignified retreat, which told us we were fleeing in the right direction at least. After putting the boy on the spare horse, we didn’t stop until we had a wide river between the village and us. The horses were exhausted, but at least we could breathe easily.
We camped on the edge of Deepwood, just past the bridge, where we would see if anything tried to cross. I’d set a few magical traps and Minos had put down a sentry crystal that would wake us if anything approached.
We huddled around the fire and tried not to glance at the bridge.
“So my village was just bait?” Conrad asked. “And the real target was you?”
I couldn’t meet his eyes. “I’m sorry,” I said. “If we’d only known…”
“Goddammit to hell. Why did it have to be my village?” the boy said, finally bursting into tears. “We were nobody. We didn’t matter. WHY DID IT HAVE TO BE US?”
I reached out, but Heronimo scooped him into a hug. “I’m sorry. I know exactly how it feels.”
For long minutes the boy cried into Heronimo’s shoulder. No one spoke.
“Why can’t we defend ourselves?” Conrad said. “Everybody else has magic. You got your arm blown off and you’re all better. It’s not fair! It’s not fair.”
“What would you have me do?” Heronimo asked. “Will you trade your childhood for vengeance? Shall I train you twenty years in the ways of the sword?”
“Eh, that’s stupid. If I knew who did it, I’d just sneak up on them and drop a rock on their head.”
The look on Heronimo’s face was priceless. I covered my mouth. Minos coughed and took the pistols from his belt.
“Conrad, these are yours. Tomorrow I’ll teach you to shoot them. I can’t bring back your parents, but I can give you the means to defend yourself.”
Conrad sniffed. “How do they work?”
“That’s a dwarven secret. But basically they store magic and discharge it into the ammunition.” Minos showed us an example. “See the runes? This one propels the wooden bullet and that one makes it explode on impact.”
The bullets were beautifully carved and varnished. The spellguns themselves were ironwood and steel, with smaller parts in crystal and bronze. Each pistol made as well as any clock, and was about as ornate. Swirling patters were etched into the metal surfaces. Clearly aristocratic weapons.
Spellguns weren’t as good as fireballs—they weren’t even as accurate or long-ranged as bows and crossbows. They were a lot more expensive too. Nevertheless, they were a lot better than throwing rocks, and nearly as easy to figure out. I nodded in approval.
Minos leaned back and holstered the pistols. “I’ll teach you first thing in the morning. Try to get some rest in the meantime.”
We wolfed down a quick dinner and went to sleep.
Chapter 14
Middlegame
I was back in the cave. Cruix was there. We played chess on a stone table. I was steadily running out of pieces.
“Haven’t you wondered why I have not spoken?” he asked. “Surely you must have noticed my silence these past few weeks.”
“I have been curious, yes.”
The dragon smiled with his eyes. He moved another piece. His horns and ventral scales were golden in the light.
“I am content to wait. I have been stuck in a waking dream for centuries, so even a passive existence feels liberating. Oh yes, I remember being stone. Rocks can think, although not quickly.”
I frowned at the board. He had the white pieces and I had the black, but the table wasn’t your regular chessboard. His side was completely white, mine was completely black, and pieces could only move on squares of the same color. The pawns were an exception: They could move on any color and extend the player’s territory with every forward push.
Things were grim for my side. I’d lost my knights, my bishops, even my queen. My king was looking nervous, for a chess piece.
“Frankly, I still don’t have much control. Your subconscious has been fighting me every step of the way. Every neuron is a battleground, every synapse a skirmish. I always win, of course, but it’s slow.”
He moved another piece and I looked around. The cavern was bright thanks to all the candles. Severed hands lay everywhere, palms down, and the candles had been set in holes on the back of each hand.
“I could ask you to surrender. Your consciousness would merge with mine and we would become one.” He moved another piece. “But I see no profit there, and I don’t believe you’d agree to it either.”
“You know me well,” I said.
“I’ve been going through your memories. For example, do you recall how your father smelled?”
My father used to carry me on his shoulders. For a second I remembered the smell of his hair—and it was gone.
“Or what your mother sang to you when you were little?”
A woman, singing softly to herself and to her baby. The song was melancholy sweet. Father must have been gone by then, and Mother would have known she would shortly follow. Elves might not be too fertile, but they stay viable until the end. It rarely happens, but sometimes a couple will have a baby before they die.
A long childhood is one thing. A long childhood without parents is another. I didn’t have many memories of them. This one was almost real enough to—
“But enough of that. How about your first mango?”
Through a mouthful of sweet I said, “You son of a bitch.”
He laughed. “You mammals indulge your offspring, don’t you? Me, I never knew my sire, and good thing too.”
“He was probably your grandfather as well, you misbegotten son of a snake.”
The dragon hissed and the candles wavered. “I shall savor the moment your mind dies. I shall keep the memory, even as I do away with every iota of your being.”
Then he laughed his evil laugh.
HAHAHAHAHAHAHA
* * *
“Angrod, wake up!” Heronimo said, shaking me awake.
“Huh? What? Where?” I said. I sat up and looked around. It was dark and I could barely see. “Was I dreaming?”
“Yes, you were,” Minos said. “You woke us up with your laughter.”
“Huh,” I said.
“Angrod, I’ve got a question,” Conrad said. “Why did you cut our hands off?”
I saw them. Heronimo, Minos, and Conrad. They stumbled forward, reaching with their stumps, darkness oozing from eyes and mouths. “Whyy did you kkill usss?”
* * *
“Aauuggh!” I said. “Aaaugh!”
“You okay, Angrod?” Heronimo said. “You were having a nightmare.”
I reached over and pinched him.
“Ow! What was that for?”
“If this were a dream, I’d have felt that.”
“Fair enough.”
It was nearly light, so I fed the animals, made coffee, and waited for sunrise.
When it came, it played over the bridge and I leaned back to appreciate it properly. It was a living bridge. Th
e roots of four massive trees (two on each side) had been trained to grow across the river and take hold on the opposite bank. The roots had been interwoven and the cracks sealed with mud. They had thickened and strengthened. Stepping-stones had been laid along their length.
Such a bridge wasn’t just maintenance-free—it would also grow stronger over time. This particular one was easily two thousand years old.
We would be passing through Deepwood, the stronghold of the wood elves. They were friendly enough, if you weren’t running from the law. They would certainly detect us, so I rehearsed my bluff.
“Morning,” Heronimo said. He had a mug in his hand.
“Morning,” I said.
“Minos and the kid are still out. We ought to let them sleep. If I’m not mistaken, that was their first real battle.”
“Heh. That was my second real battle, and this time I wasn’t a dragon.”
Heronimo took a sip. “Can we rely on the Minos’s trinkets?”
“The dwarves are excellent artificers, but the spells built into their gear tend to be simple. They can be blocked or counteracted.” I sipped from my mug. “They’re also useless in a depleted magic field. Actually, even your healing factor would be. How’s the arm?”
My friend untied his splint and unwrapped the bandage. He flexed the arm and made a fist. “Just more scars.”
* * *
The afternoon was pleasant. Minos took Conrad to practice shooting, and Heronimo and I practiced our weaponry as shots echoed along the river.
“Remember, a dual wielder’s hands are independent,” I said, parrying with the stick, “The off hand will lean toward defense but both can strike or block.”
I menaced him with the stick and hammered at him with the mace. “Then again, if you’re fighting an elf you can expect magic half the time.”
I blinked behind him. He spun around, but I tapped him on the shoulder with the stick, then loosed a concussive blast that forced him to duck. I swung the mace underhanded, but he blocked it with the flat of his blade and went for a close-range stab, gripping the naked blade in one hand.
“Don’t you need a gauntlet?”
We stepped apart and he looked at his hand, which healed so fast the blood steamed.
“Not really.”
Not to be outdone, I teleported again. It was exhausting, but I managed to tag him with the mace. The electric shock made him jump. I blinked from side to side and fired steam into his face. Of course, I didn’t dare do more than harry him because Heronimo was a powerhouse. He could take or dodge most of my spells and I had no doubt he would kill me in a serious fight.
I lunged, mace cocked for an overhead blow, and Heronimo yelled so hard I forgot myself. This allowed him to parry my stick, wrench the mace from my hands, and kick my legs from under me.
I was flat on my back, staring straight up.
“Heronimo, did you by any chance train in a convent?”
* * *
“These are amazing trees,” Minos said. “I have heard of nothing like them.”
We rode down the narrow trail, sunlight filtering through the branches. The trees were all the same kind. Each was a leafy tower so wide you could fit a dance floor in one hollowed-out trunk. Only a little light made it through the forest canopy, and at ground level it was chilly and dark.
“The trail could be wider, though,” Minos said. “Surely this place has a tourist trade?”
Conrad shook his head. “An elf-witch lives in these woods. She discourages intruders.”
“How does she do this?” I asked.
“Does she enchant those who look upon her?” asked Heronimo.
“Does she whisper into their minds?” asked Minos.
He didn’t see the tripwire, but he did see the swinging log that hit him in the chest and knocked him off his horse.
“Minos!” Heronimo said. He swung off his horse and ran to our companion, but the ground opened under him and he fell into the pit.
I’d dismounted at the same time—something grabbed my leg and hoisted me into the air.
“She tends to booby-trap the forest,” Conrad said.
The blood was rushing to my head. “I could’ve used that information five seconds ago!”
He shrugged. “She doesn’t usually rig the trails. Anyway, they’re nonlethal.”
“Hah!” Heronimo said. “So these are nonlethal wooden stakes?”
“Can’t breathe.” Minos said.
“Man, you rang like a gong,” I said. I teleported out of the snare, but forgot to reorient myself and landed on my head. “Ow!”
Rich feminine laughter echoed through the trees.
“A little help?” Heronimo said. “Kind if pinned here.”
I was getting to my feet when I was surrounded by wood elves. They carried bows and boar spears and didn’t look friendly, despite all of them being women.
Heronimo pulled himself out of the hole. He was bleeding from a dozen punctures but he sounded more amazed than hurt. “Did I lose too much blood? We seem to have been ambushed by bikini elves.”
“I’m seeing it,” Minos said. “They should be ashamed!”
More feminine laughter—and then the Witch of Deepwood stepped out of hiding.
She was tall and red-haired. Her age was just starting to show but gravity had been kind. “Looks like we caught ourselves some big ‘uns,” she drawled. “We eat well tonight, girls!”
“Eep,” Minos said, and struggled to sit up.
“Who is your leader?” the Witch asked.
“That would be me,” I said.
“Tell me, dear boy, what are you doing in my land?”
The witch fixed her glittering green eyes on me. Suddenly I knew it wouldn’t be wise to lie to her. “I’m on the run because I turned into a dragon. My human friend is hunting for the elf that killed his parents and my dwarf friend is in it for the adventure. The kid’s with us because his entire village turned to zombies.”
“You didn’t tell me about the dragon!” Minos said.
“I’m sorry, buddy. But I had it under control, there was nothing you could do, and plausible deniability. Okay?!”
The Witch grabbed me by the face and looked deeply into my eyes.
“Hey, buy me a drink first!” I said. I felt every layer was peel away. The past few weeks flashed before my eyes. Then she let go and I felt like a finished book. There were tears in my eyes. “Goddammit, we just met!”
Seconded! Cruix said.
The wood elves tensed. Bows were drawn and spears readied. The Witch waved them down. “It’s okay, they’re fine.”
“Does this mean you’ll let us go?” I said.
“Sure,” she said. “Now, can you tell the boy to lower his weapons? They’re still pointed at me and my lieutenant.”
“Weapons?” Conrad said. He had his pistols out. Half a dozen arrows and spears were pointed at him, but the guns never wavered. “I don’t need no stinkin’ weapons!”
* * *
“Do you always wear so little?” Heronimo asked a wood elf.
“Actually, we only put these on when we’re expecting guests. Normally we just wear the bottoms.”
We rode down the trail, this time with wood elves jogging along.
I’m not referring to different species when I say wood elves and dark elves. Elves come in all colors (many not found in nature) but we’re all just one race. Dark elves are a minority who are born nocturnal, white-haired, and moody. Wood elves, meanwhile, are those individuals who have given up city life for the supposedly more natural lifestyle of our ancestors. This involves bows, spears, and hand-woven tops.
“So what do you all do in Deepwood?” I asked the Witch, who jogged (joggled) beside me.
“We hunt, fish, and forage,” she said, not breaking stride. “There are small clearings where we grow everything else. We have plenty of leisure, and we mostly just enjoy ourselves.”
“I see.”
“We do lots of socializing… if you kn
ow what I mean.” She looked up and winked. “We also protect the forest, the largest single organism in the world.”
“Didn’t see that one coming. Really?”
“Oh yes. All these trees share the same root system, which is massive. It’s why Deepwood hasn’t fallen into King’s Lake despite being mostly sand. The roots hold everything together.”
“And how does this organism repay you? Does it act as the repository for the memories of your people?”
“Ah, no. But we do turn its sap into booze.”
Chapter 15
The main settlement was treehouse heaven. Nothing happened at ground level but instead took place twenty, fifty, a hundred feet up. There were platforms, walkways, and apartments among the trees, all shaped out of living wood. As with the bridge, the wood elves had thrown around some serious magic.
Fire magic, oddly enough. The same element that allowed for so much destruction was also helpful in guiding plant growth. This was why nearly every red mage had a bonsai garden.
Going up, there were ladders and spiral staircases. Going down, there were ziplines and ropes. I remembered this was the second reason I’d always wanted to run away with the wood elves. The first reason, of course, was the topless babes.
“Scandalous,” Minos said. He practically hissed.
“What’s wrong?” I said. “Don’t dwarves believe in airing out their nipples? I know humans do.”
Heronimo nodded. “Yes, humans boob. I mean, humans do. It’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”
We passed a pair of identical blondes. They had pretty eyes and nice smiles, but that wasn’t what held our attention.
“Those two are going to have serious back problems in the future,” I said.
“H-how can this be?” Heronimo said. “How can slender elves be so well-endowed?”
“I can see their endowments from behind. They’re not even raising their arms!”
“You two are disgusting,” Minos said. “And those two are completely out of proportion.”
Just then I was reminded that wood elves were not a single-gender society.
“Oh my,” Minos said. “Oh, my.”
The male wood elves were huge—almost as muscular as humans. They lounged about in their g-strings and feathered capes. “Impressive,” Heronimo said. “And I thought all elves puny.”
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