Born Human - Part 4 (Habel Trollblood)

by Viola Grace

  Settling into her role as the elder’s assistant, she loses track of time. Sorrow, joy, hope, and the future loom ahead.

  Habel gets into the swing of her life as the elder’s assistant and is ready to play host to any of the magical races who arrive at the tower. When the fifty-year union of the races takes place, she heads down to fetch the latest delegation only to find her family waiting.

  It only takes her a few minutes to realize that they don’t recognize her until the elder calls her name. No one is born an elf. Their reunion can only last the day, but she makes it memorable.

  A romantic link that was inevitable was struck, with an unlikely partner. She knew who he was at his touch, but she wasn’t supposed to know. So, what does she do now when she hovers between duty and desire? Decisions, decisions.

  The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Born Human Part 4

  Copyright © 2020 by Viola Grace

  ISBN: 978-1-989892-53-4

  ©Cover art by Angela Waters

  All rights reserved. With the exception of review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the express permission of the publisher.

  Published by Viola Grace

  Look for me online at violagrace.com.

  Born Human Part 4

  Habel Trollblood Book 1

  By

  Viola Grace

  Part Four: Tempus Fugit

  Habel glared at her closet. “I am not wearing that.” The gauzy wrap on the screen was not going to stay in place as she moved around.

  “It is a request from the engineer Khyran.” Camder’s tone was reasonable.

  “If he wants it, he can wear it.” She snorted. “You check my schedule and see if any of my activities suit that selection.”

  Camder sighed, which was funny for an AI. “Very well. Consider this an alternative.”

  He showed her a two-piece combination of a silky skirt in black and a silky top in white.

  “No. Cover everything. I am fencing with Nerion in twenty minutes.”

  He sighed again, and her previously worn costumes came out for her to put on. It was strange that he tried to dress her up each and every day, but he did. This discussion was commonplace now.

  She was already wearing her boots, so she yanked the dress on over her head, closed the front over her left breast, and put a belt around her waist that the skirt was tucked up through to make it easier for her to run around. Her hair was already tied, and she was ready to chase Nerion around with blades.

  “Right, have a nice day, Camder. Do whatever it is you do.”

  “Enjoy your day, Novice Habel.”

  Habel curtseyed and ran for the door, sprinting to the lift and moving with more energy than any of the elves around her, even after being in the tower for years.

  Time blurred in the tower. The same people were in the building, there was always something new to experience, and with her days filled, the exact amount of time that Habel had been in the domain of the elves was a little fuzzy.

  She was almost to her training site, and her bracelet chimed. “Yes?”

  “Elder Monathian would like you to meet him at the platform. There is an incoming party that requires your services.”

  She turned on her heel and headed for the elder’s lift. “Any idea what exactly is needed?”

  “No further information is available.”

  “Can you contact Nerion and inform him that I won’t be kicking his ass today?”

  Camber chuckled. “Done.”

  “Thank you.”

  As she trotted past the elves who were leisurely enjoying their mornings, she waved a greeting and got smiles in response. Sometime after her first anniversary at the tower, she realized that she had met everyone, even if she didn’t know their names.

  She got into the private lift and scanned her palm to get her down to the platform. She wasn’t really dressed for a formal meeting, but her clothing was still finer than most of the races who visited. They were certainly sturdier.

  She got to the platform and stood at the edge, waiting for the train. She could hear it but not see it yet.

  Her bracelet chimed, and the elder’s voice instructed her, “Take the delegates and their escort and bring them right up to the boardroom.”

  “Yes, Elder.”

  He sighed and disconnected the call.

  She waited, and when the dark train chugged into her line of sight with its gleaming brass accessories, she smiled. She could see the cloaked figure at the controls, and he brought the train in, settling it neatly at the edge of the platform with plenty of room for the delegates.

  Khyran stepped out and flipped his cloak hood back. “Novice Habel, it is good to see you again.”

  “Khyran. It seems that you still choose to move through the darkness.” She smiled.

  “Novice, it seems you are still doing the elder’s bidding.”

  She snorted. “It hasn’t been that long.”

  “It has been twenty years. I have seen you a handful of times since then, and it has always been at Monathian’s side.”

  Habel grinned. “I don’t think he trusts you.”

  He snorted and walked to the car that held his guests. He opened the door brusquely, and when four figures stepped out, she paused. She wanted to run and hug them, but she couldn’t. They didn’t know her. She had kept evolving after she left them. They weren’t her family anymore.

  To her surprise, Miiba was there, wearing the chief’s jewellery. The cuffs, the torque, and the bands around her lower tusks were all indicators that she had stepped up. Vanel was with their mother, and Haladen was looking around her with a nostalgic smile.

  “Novice, will you take them to the council?”

  Habel glared at Khyran and nodded. “Please, come this way.”

  Miiba looked a little nervous, but she covered it with bluster. “What is this place?”

  “This is where all night-world species can come in safety so that the blazing light in the skies above won’t injure them.”

  Haladen sniffed the air. “It smells familiar.”

  They got in the lift, and Miiba made a show of not liking the confinement.

  Habel snorted. “It is no different than the mine rigging. Less chance of a dirt slide.”

  Vanel looked at her. “How do you know about the mines?”

  “No one is born an elf.” She smiled as she fought the urge to hug her mother, Vanel, and even Miiba and what seemed to be her new husband.

  The lift brought them up to the council chamber, or boardroom, level. She led them to the room and showed them to their seating area before bowing and turning to go to the elder.

  He saw her and called her over. “Habel, come over here and meet the centaur leader.”

  She froze and turned to see all of the trolls staring at her. Her mother looked at her with hopeful eyes. “Habel? Is that you?”

  She walked to her mother and grabbed her braids, rocking her head as she used to. “Hi, Mom.”

  The bone-crushing hug lasted for quite a while. Vanel took his turn next, and even Miiba clasped arms with her in friendship.

  “Well, you always did stand out, but I never thought you would be so shiny.”

  Habel chuckled. “It happened over a few days. But, I proved you wrong.”

  Miiba blinked. “What?”

  “I actually can blast light out of my ass. I practiced my whole second year here.”

  Miiba paused and then laughed.
The whole family laughed.

  Habel murmured to Vanel. “Where is Dad?”

  “Holding down the settlement. Someone has to deal with the new babies and trade disputes while we are away.”

  She looked at him and saw the ear bands that indicated that he was a husband and father. “You have little ones?”

  “Three. Two girls and a boy.” He sighed. “He’s the youngest, and they are always braiding his hair. Miiba has four. Two sets of twins. Both sets are mixed sexes.”

  Habel smiled, but she felt the pang in her heart. “Kids. Nieces and nephews. I wonder what they would make of me.”

  “They are very proud of you, and they don’t fear their changing day. None of our bloodline fears it, and after seeing you again, I know that they will wait for whatever comes with a welcome heart and no fear.”

  Habel hugged him, and he hugged her back. Her mother chuckled. “Habel, people are staring.”

  Habel released her brother and clung to her mother. “I don’t care. They can stare. Trust me, I get stared at a lot.” She straightened. “Pardon me. I have to go and work.”

  She smoothed her skirt and hair, winked at her sister, and walked over to Monathian. “Pardon my distraction, Lord Fengar. I was reacquainting myself.”

  The centaur took her hands and smiled with a raised brow. “With trolls?”

  She smiled brightly. “No one is born an elf.”

  Lord Fengar widened his dark brown eyes. “Just so. Nerion was going to become one of our great leaders until his change. I had not thought of what it would be like for one like you who was new to the tower. Your relatives still live.”

  “They do, and I have just learned that my family’s line has grown and looks like it will stretch into the future.”

  Monathian sighed. “Lord Fengar, this is Novice Habel, our brightest new addition.”

  Habel smiled. “Only new addition. I am eager for someone to kick me off my weird little throne.”

  The elder spoke through gritted teeth. “Greet our guests. We are about to begin.”

  Lord Fengar smiled. “It is good to see you so animated, Monathian. You have been slipping into polite repose for far too long.”

  Habel left them and fought the urge to pat the long glossy hide of the leader of the plains centaurs. His skin was only a few shades lighter than the rich mahogany of his hide, and the cascade of black and crystal white hair was particularly stunning.

  She stopped and greeted the sirens, the goblins, the forest fey, pixies, and several other species. She eased them toward their labelled seats and finally turned to stare at the collection of men with leathery wings.

  She walked over with a polite smile. “Greetings, Khyran. Are you staying for the conference?”

  He inclined his head. “We are. We are the dragons, after all.”

  “Oh. Right. Twenty years, still no real proof. You can read; please get to your section.”

  She turned and was going to walk away, but a hand gripped her wrist. She turned, identified the blond dragon known as Khyhal. She pulled, pushed, and flipped him, so he thudded to his back. He blinked up at her in shock, and the room went silent.

  Khyran put his hands on her biceps and eased her away from the prone dragon. “Easy, killer. He is young and wanted to tell you that he finds your colouring fascinating.”

  She inclined her head as two of the others helped him to his feet. “If that was your intention, thank you, but don’t grab a lady until you learn if she works out.”

  He nodded and muttered, “I will keep that in mind.”

  “Welcome to the tower, Khyhal.” She turned to look at Khyran. “Why are you laughing? I have flipped you a few times.”

  He grinned. “Because it is nice to see that the treatment wasn’t personal but reflex.”

  “Aw. Trust me, with you, it was personal, now, dragons, please take your seats.”

  The men were chuckling, and they headed to one of the seats closest to Monathian’s podium. The elder nodded, and she left to prepare dinner and entertainment. This was a very big deal—it was twice a century, and it needed to be spectacular.

  The united races could discuss things amongst themselves. She had a buffet to wrangle.

  Six hours later, the tired, parched, and hungry delegates emerged and were led into the entertainment centre. Musicians begin gentle music as the representatives of the magical races walked around, took part in their meals, and settled at tables or on couches.

  When the meal was underway, the musicians switched, and the performances began.

  Habel waited for her cue, gripped the banners that hung from a corner of the stage, and took a few steps before she was launched up and over the crowd in an aerial display that had several of the different delegations gasping. Part of her routine was the panels, but most of it was the controlled platform moving the banners high in the shadows of the ceiling.

  She flew over them twice and then stilled the silk, sliding down and wrapping herself as she moved up toward the ceiling. When the music reached its peak, she let the silk unwrap and focused on catching herself before she struck the stage. She spun, twisted wrapped, and unwrapped herself in the silk until finally, the music wound to a conclusion. She slid to the stage and stood with her hands folded in front of her, her performance trousers flowing around her legs.

  There was no response from the viewers, so she nodded and left the stage. She shrugged into a long-sleeved robe and tied it over her breastband so that she could have a controlled cooldown.

  Sorata smiled. “That was amazing.”

  There was murmuring from the audience, and Habel smiled. “I am glad you thought so. I am hoping that the dancers do better.”

  “Oh, they are always silent for the acrobats. They don’t want to scare them.”

  Habel blinked. “Oh. Nice. Okay, start the first round of dancers. I have to get changed for a fight demo with Nerion.”

  “We haven’t had a fight demonstration before.”

  She grinned. “I know. There is a first time for everything.”

  Sorata’s eyes widened. “Oh, speaking of, when is your first time scheduled?”

  Habel winced. “Next week. Monathian says he is still getting applications. I should have taken you up on your offer.”

  Sorata laughed. “It isn’t too late, but if it isn’t your inclination, I can accept that. Barely.”

  Sorata ran off and got the dancers into position while Habel went to get changed. Time to kick Nerion’s butt in public... again.

  When she stepped onto the stage, a roar came from the crowd. She kept herself focused and looked at Nerion. He nodded, and they walked to the centre of the stage. Music sparked up, they bowed, and then they engaged in an honest fight.

  She bent and charged him, aiming for the midriff. He grunted, and she stood up, but he gripped her arm and flipped her across the stage. They got to their feet, and the fight was on. They went from grappling to one song, to fencing to another. This event, the audience was cheering. She felt a sear of the blade across her abdomen and another to her arm. There was a gasp from the audience, and she felt a trickle of rage through her. She looked at Nerion and attacked. She slashed and struck at him, drawing blood, and he stepped back at her attack. When she used the guard of one of her sabres to knock him out, he hit the floor with a satisfying thud.

  She panted and looked at the crowd watching her. The trolls jumped to their feet and cheered—the rest of the more warlike species following suit. Medics came to assist them, and they made their way off the stage—time for more dancing.

  Monathian was in the wings of the stage, and he held his hand over her arm, coursing light through her. She looked at him. “So, it is common knowledge that you are choosing someone for my first.”

  The assisting medic inhaled in shock.

  Monathian chuckled. “With you not caring about who is listening, I am not surprised. Yes, I know. I am still getting applications.”

  “Do they have to fill out a skill-testing que
stion?”

  Monathian grinned. “There is an idea. No, they need to demonstrate that they have an interest in you furthering yourself with the community, not with them. Basically, if I think they are going to tell you who they are, they are out.”

  She peeked out through the curtains.

  “Why are you so interested in it? I thought you didn’t particularly care as long as they had the regulation number of limbs and good oral hygiene.”

  She watched Khyran as he sat with his people. “It has to be an elf, right?”

  Monathian moved and followed her eye line. “Yes, it has to be an elf. Have you been practicing the ceremony?”

  “You mean, can I pour a cup of tea blindfolded? Yes.”

  He sighed. “There is more to it than that.”

  She grimaced. “Not much more. Not on my end.”

  “It is one night.”

  She nodded, and he finished healing her. She could do it herself, but she had to get ready for the final performance. She thankfully wasn’t in it.

  She wandered out in a silky, comfortable outfit that counted as formal and mingled with the folk who were alternately watching the entertainment and conversing.

  Nerion was standing near Khyran and speaking quietly.

  She stopped by and asked Nerion, “How is your face?”

  He grinned. “Healed. Nice shot.”

  Khyran scowled. “You were injured yourself.”

  “I heal fast, and Monathian helped. Did I interrupt something?”

  Nerion grinned. “I was just telling Khyran that your first is scheduled for next week. It is a long list of candidates.”

  She blushed. “Ah. Right. That. Well, have a nice evening.”

  Khyran touched her arm lightly. “The topic upsets you?”

  She looked at his dark eyes with the molten gold in their depths. “I don’t get to choose, but I am not considered a citizen in the eyes of society, so I will do it. It’s just an activity like fighting with Nerion in the morning. Maybe less sweating and cursing.”