Secrets of the Sword 2 (Death Before Dragons Book 8)

by Lindsay Buroker

  “I’m hoping I can just find the right scroll, take photos of it, show Freysha, and she can translate its wisdom—and hopefully a long list of command words—for me.” I’d turned off my phone as soon as I’d arrived here, hoping to save the battery in case I needed it. With luck, there would be enough juice for a photo op with a scroll.

  Which scroll? Sindari tilted his head back to look at the rows and rows of circular slots in the wall. There must be thousands.

  “You don’t have to stay while I look.”

  I said I would guard you, and I will. He kept eyeing the rows and rows of scroll cases. Though searching them appears… boring.

  “Boring? I thought apex predators were known for their patience. Don’t you stand unmoving in a thicket for days, preparing to ambush whatever innocent antelope ambles through?”

  I have no wish to ambush scrolls.

  I didn’t want to either. Or look at hundreds of them. Especially since I didn’t read dwarven. How would I know when I found the right one?

  I am coming for you, my mate, Zav’s voice rang in my mind. The lich has been disposed of in such a way as to ensure she cannot be reanimated.

  Uh, good. Was that a possibility? I didn’t want to think about it. I need you.

  When I am once again in human form, I will also be filled with ardor for you. The battle was magnificent, and I know how crucial a role you played in helping us.

  I’m glad, but what I meant is that I need you to translate some dwarven scrolls and help me find one that pertains to Chopper.

  That thought does not fill me with ardor.

  Sorry.

  I am coming.

  “Zav isn’t excited about ambushing scrolls either,” I said, sensing him arriving in the tunnels.

  The other dragons were having a powwow on top of the mountain. Since Zondia hadn’t acknowledged me earlier, I felt no need to say hi to any of them. The idea of all of them showing up at my wedding was still moderately terrifying.

  “Hey, Chopper,” I whispered to the sword, assuming it would take Zav a while to make his way down here. “Any chance you can help me find your secrets? Is there anything in here that explains your history and… you?”

  You believe it will answer? Sindari asked, a polite way of suggesting I might be crazy for talking to my sword.

  “We have a developing relationship.”

  Chopper had responded to me, sort of, before, but other than its glowing interest in what might be fellow dragon blades, it didn’t point me toward a particular scroll.

  I closed my eyes, lifted the blade, envisioned it as a divining rod, and willed it to point me in the right direction. Was it nudging me ever so slightly to the right? Not sure if it was my imagination or not, I let my arms and the sword swing in that direction and walked slowly along the banks of scrolls.

  Direct me, Chopper, I said silently, not wanting more commentary from Sindari.

  But I couldn’t tell if it was directing me anywhere. I took a few more steps, tilting the tip upward at a row of scrolls, and—

  “What is she doing?” a gruff male voice asked in a language my still-active charm translated for me.

  “I do not know,” Zav replied. “She is a half-elf. That makes her quirky.”

  “Fortunately, dragons are into quirky,” I said instead of explaining myself.

  I lowered Chopper’s point to the ground and faced the entrance.

  Zav, back in his human form, had walked in with a red-bearded dwarf who could have been Gimli’s brother. He wore a mashup of chain mail and plate armor and carried a battle-ax on his back. All of his gear radiated magic. Maybe he’d been on the way to challenge the lich himself.

  “This is Lord Chasmmoor,” Zav said, “an enchanter and blacksmith descended from the great dwarven masters. He is also a representative sent by the dwarven king to come and speak with the dragons and express their gratitude toward our kind for vanquishing the loathed enemy that took over this world and had designs on the entire Cosmic Realms.”

  The dwarf looked frankly at him, not intimidated by his powerful dragon aura. “The king just told me to see if the lich is dead.”

  “Your gratitude is assumed.”

  The dwarf grunted and strode toward me, eyeing Chopper. I couldn’t hide a frown. What if he recognized the sword as belonging to his people and wanted me to leave it in the rack with the others when I left? Why had Zav brought him down here? If I’d found my scroll and taken a portal back to Earth without ever encountering a dwarf, I could have gone on pretending I was the rightful owner of Chopper—or at least one carrying it justly and deservingly, since the rightful owner was presumably long dead.

  Sindari, I may need you to gnaw off this guy’s foot if he tries to take Chopper.

  He’s wearing metal boots. That’s a deterrent to foot gnawing.

  Is it? Had I known, I would have gotten some steel-toed boots years ago.

  That would have protected only your toes.

  Modern Earth cobblers are short-sighted.

  Obviously.

  Zav must have sensed the artifact, for he turned toward the stove and scrutinized it. He lifted a hand, and power flowed from his fingers, wrapping around the stove. Orange light flared all around it, and I sensed the magic of the artifact inside fading and finally disappearing. Zav’s power continued to flow, and the walls of the stove melted inward as the orange light grew so bright I had to look away.

  Chasmmoor watched impassively. Apparently, the stove wasn’t some beloved and priceless artifact, for he didn’t object to its destruction.

  When the light diminished, nothing but a lump of melted metal remained.

  “That would be the more thorough way to stop an artifact,” I murmured.

  “Dragons are thorough,” Zav said, looking pleased with himself.

  Chasmmoor turned back to me, studying me almost as thoroughly as he had Chopper. “I have heard of you, Ruin Bringer. The dwarf traveler Belohk came here with stories of you a moon before the lich arrived and forced us underground.”

  “I’ve heard he’s been chatty about me. Not sure that’s a good thing. I may stick to rescuing taciturn dwarves in the future.”

  Chasmmoor didn’t exactly smile, but his eyes crinkled at the corners. “That describes most of my people. How did you come by that sword?”

  I told him about the battle with the zombie lord and that I had no idea how he’d gotten it.

  “It is one of Dondethor Orehammer’s ancient blades and was in use until a few generations ago, when its owner was slain and it disappeared.” How long were dwarven generations? He didn’t say. “It likely passed through a number of hands before ending up on one of the wild worlds. Your Earth. It may even have been taken there to hide it from our people, who would have looked for it. There are no direct descendants of the Orehammer remaining, so there is not a proper owner that it should fall to, but we as a people like to keep an eye on our historically significant works.”

  “By leaving them to collect dust in racks under mountains?” I waved to the others, prepared to argue that I should be allowed to keep Chopper.

  “It was at the behest of our dragon rulers—” Chasmmoor slanted Zav a long look, “—that we sealed the remaining dragon blades inside this mountain. As I recall, they wanted any weapons capable of piercing dragon scales to be destroyed. We refused to let these masterpieces be treated thus. This was a compromise. They were stored here, along with the information on their powers and history.” He looked toward the scrolls.

  “Any chance you want to let me borrow the one that explains Chopper’s powers?” I asked.

  Zav stood back, his arms folded over his chest.

  “Chopper?” Chasmmoor’s mouth drooped open. “That is what you have named this great blade?”

  “Yeah. The zombie lord neglected to tell me its real name. Or anything about it. I’ve learned a couple of command words, but some of my enemies have suggested it can do more than turning hot and cold.”

  It t
ook Chasmmoor several long seconds to remember to close his mouth. Had I stunned him?

  “You do not know the commands to activate its powers?” he asked.

  “Just keyk and krundark.” Chopper turned icy white and red hot in succession, hopefully not confused by me using them back to back. “Oh, and eravekt.” The blade flared brighter blue. “I had it for ten years before I learned those. Like I said, no instruction manual was included.”

  “And you have slain dragons?” Chasmmoor looked to Zav. For confirmation?

  “Not by myself and generally only after Zav sufficiently mangled them. I’m just your average half-elf.” Admittedly, I’d only met a handful of half-elves and never chatted long with them, so I didn’t know how average I was.

  “She is not average,” Zav stated. “She has slain dragons, even though this is not acceptable, and there are many who would like to see her punished and rehabilitated for such abhorrent behavior.”

  “Many dragons.” Chasmmoor’s tone suggested that no other species would find this behavior abhorrent.

  “Many dragons.” Zav’s tone suggested that no other species mattered, though at least he didn’t haughtily lift his chin and ooze arrogance. Maybe he was too tired after his battle to bother.

  The response didn’t faze Chasmmoor. He even looked amused. “The king is grateful that you’ve helped our people—we all are—so I am here to offer my services in helping your mate further learn the powers of the dragon blade. It is our wish that when she is dead, or no longer able to fight, she will have the blade returned to our people. But for now, we believe that it is proper that it rest in the hands of someone who is battling dragons who would prefer to enslave the other intelligent races rather than live in harmony in the realms with them.”

  I raised my eyebrows hopefully. They were going to let me keep Chopper? It sounded like I would have to stipulate in my will that Amber, or whoever survived me, take it back to the dwarves—maybe they would give me a portal generator to take home and keep in the closet for the trip—but I could live with that.

  “It is better to rule reasonably over races for their own good and the good of dragons and the realm,” Zav said.

  “Our own good, yes,” Chasmmoor said, proving that dwarves could be as dry and sarcastic as humans. But he didn’t object further.

  The dwarves, like most of the elves, probably saw the Stormforge Clan as the lesser of two evils, when it came to possible leaders. If they had to live under dragon rule, better Zav’s family than the Silverclaw Clan.

  “Politics,” I murmured.

  “The king informed me that you will return to Earth with us and instruct my mate in the ways of her blade,” Zav stated, and I realized he’d known the outcome before he’d walked in here with Chasmmoor.

  He could have mentioned it to me…

  “Yes.” Chasmmoor’s tone was dry again. “He informed me thus as well.”

  “She will make you smoked ribs, a human delicacy. She is an excellent cooker of meat.” Zav’s tone grew proud, or maybe sly. “I gave her a ring that enhances her talent in this area.”

  My mother wouldn’t believe it if she ever heard Zav praise my cooking abilities. When I’d been a kid, her attempts at teaching me to follow recipes and bake hadn’t gone well. Never mind that the tiny avocado-colored oven in Mom’s converted school bus hadn’t exactly been Food Network-approved.

  I held up my hand and wiggled my ring finger. “Accidentally, he says, but I have doubts.”

  “Dwarves enjoy smoked meat,” Chasmmoor said. “I must check in with my king and my family before returning with you, but I will find the scrolls related to the dragon blades, so that you can copy them and start your learning immediately.” He looked me up and down again. “Did you bring ink, a quill, and numerous blank parchments?”

  Oh, sure. I never went on adventures without a quill.

  “This should do the job.” I held up my phone.

  “Interesting,” Chasmmoor said. “I’d heard that humans have learned to create technological gewgaws with similar functions as magical artifacts.”

  “Necessity is the mother of invention, as we say.”

  “I will retrieve the scrolls.”

  Zav came to my side and wrapped his arm around my shoulders. Now you will know the true powers of your sword and have the confidence to vex our enemies even further.

  You know I don’t need to be confident to vex people. Vexations fall right off my tongue.

  Perhaps it is more accurate to say that you will soon be more able to defend yourself after you vex our enemies.

  That sounds good.

  The dwarf whistled as he selected scroll after scroll from the library. After he’d rested thirty or forty on the floor, I started to grow concerned.

  “Are all those related to Chopper?” I asked. “Or are you selecting some bathtub reading to bring with you to Earth?”

  “They are all related to Thrallendakh yen Hyrek de Horak.” Chasmmoor cocked a bushy red eyebrow at me. Was that the sword’s real name? My charm hadn’t translated it. “It means Lightning Harnessed from the Most Ferocious Storm.”

  “What does Hyrek mean?”

  “Storm.”

  “I might be able to remember that.”

  The dwarf’s other eyebrow rose, and he looked at Zav.

  “My mate has a tongue impediment and has difficulty with names,” he said.

  “My tongue isn’t impeded.” I swatted him in the chest, not wanting Chasmmoor to think I was too dull to learn Chopper’s powers. Hyrek’s powers. “It’s just saving itself for vexing enemies.”

  “And those with names of more than two syllables,” Zav said.

  “Are you teasing me?” I asked him.

  “Yes. You informed me that mates in your culture do this.”

  “I guess I did.” I couldn’t keep from smiling fondly at him. Later, when we were back home and had nothing more substantial to worry about than the wedding, I would show him just how unimpeded my tongue was.

  Chasmmoor’s gaze shifted from Zav to Sindari, and my tiger nodded.

  I squinted suspiciously at him. What was he telling the dwarf?

  Sindari gazed blandly over at me. I had a feeling I would never know.

  “Chasmmoor, would your people be able to arrange a funeral or whatever is appropriate for a fallen warrior?” I pointed in the direction of Li’s body. “I don’t know if she has any human family or how I would even arrange for the body to be taken back to them for a burial, but since she’s half-dwarf, maybe it would be appropriate for her to be buried here.” I glanced at the tombs. “Or whatever you do.”

  “She died bravely?” Chasmmoor asked.

  “Fighting the lich’s minions and buying me the time I needed, yes.” I almost shared the name of the dwarven father that Li had given me, the one supposedly descended from Chopper’s maker, but realized that must have also been a lie. Had any of that story been true? Had she ever met her dwarven father? I might never know.

  Chasmmoor nodded. “We can inter the body. Perhaps we can find out with blood magic who her ancestors among our kind were and where to situate the remains.”

  I nodded, relieved that he hadn’t said a mongrel couldn’t be buried among their kind. The elves seemed too uppity to consider that, but I didn’t plan to request that in my will.

  “Thanks.”

  It was possible Li hadn’t been lying about everything when she’d told me about her family, and I would try to find out more when I got home, but this was more practical than lugging the body back and foisting it on Willard to try to get through channels back to China. Given how little our governments cared for each other, that might not even be a possibility.

  Zav sighed and looked toward the tunnel. “Xilnethgarish comes with news.”

  “He couldn’t deliver his news from the mountaintop?” I touched my temple to indicate telepathy.

  “It is for you, and he wished to deliver it in person.” Zav’s eyes narrowed. “If he attempt
s to woo you, I will obliterate him.”

  I thought of all his talk about how it was forbidden to slay other dragons outside of duels and how criminals were always punished and rehabilitated. “That’s allowed?”

  “No. I will do it anyway.”

  “Don’t get arrested before our wedding. Having your spouse in jail puts a big damper on a marriage.”

  “Hm.”

  Xilneth strolled into the cavern in elven form, handsome, blond, and green-eyed. I could envision him carrying a surfboard on a California beach.

  He stopped in front of me, barely acknowledging the still squinting Zav, and bowed deeply. “The dragons have learned of the poison that was flowing into the air and might have slain us had you not stopped it. I cannot speak for the haughty Stormforge Clan, but the Starsinger Clan is deeply grateful for your assistance, Ruin Bringer.”

  “My clan is also grateful,” Zav said. “I will ensure they are.”

  I patted him on the stomach. “Thanks.” I added telepathically to Zav, Invite him to the wedding.

  I thought you would invite him, he responded without taking his glower from Xilneth.

  Dragons should invite other dragons. Don’t forget to extend the invitation to the rest of his clan. Thus to further the possibility of embarrassment at the wedding. That’s our plan to get your mother to come, remember?

  I have not forgotten. Funny how he could manage to growl his words telepathically. You’d think vocal cords would be required for that.

  “Xilnethgarish,” Zav said, “you are invited to our wedding.”

  “Excellent. I, and my entire clan, agree to come.” No hesitation there. Had he been planning to show up anyway? “We look forward to attending your union on Earth and to hunting the small but fleet creatures in the forests there. I intend to show my cousin Lynethdaron that shifting into this form and having sex with the natives is an enjoyable experience. He does not believe me!”

  So far, Zondia was the only shape-shifted dragon that I’d seen roll her eyes, but Zav came close whenever Xilneth was around.

  “Just not the natives at our wedding, please,” I said.

  “There will not be available females there?” Xilneth asked.