Honeyed Words (45 page)

I rolled with the blow, feeling my body giving up, betrayed by exhaustion and physical limitation.

Then Katie’s song changed. In a moment’s breath, she shifted from calm and succor to vengeance and rage. The song washed over me like a current. The runes on my leg burned white-hot, and I leapt upward, flying farther than I’d ever flown before. I swung Gram down with both hands, using every iota of energy I could summon. The blade connected with the side of Jean-Paul’s neck, sliced through the thickening scales and the flesh beneath.

I smashed into the ground, Gram falling from my grip with an echoing ring. For a moment, I lay there, breathing, gasping. Then the great beast shuddered and fell.

A cheer rose from the dwarves and elves alike. I had severed his great neck.

The biting head smashed to the ground, his long neck thrashing from side to side. Black, viscous ichor sprayed from his severed neck—an oily blood like what poured from the statue I’d defeated. The essence of those sacrificed to tie him to this world.

Katie was at my side in a moment. Her song an echo in my mind.

“You did it,” she said, pulling me into her lap. “You killed him.”

I smiled at her, forgetting all else for a moment. “It was you,” I said. “Your song, your love. That’s what gave me the strength.”

She cupped my face and cried, holding me to her as the dragon melted into the earth.

Sixty-two

The aftermath was worse than I thought—twenty-seven dwarves down, six elves. Gletts was not dead so much, but his spirit was broken somehow.

Katie helped the surviving dwarves tend to their wounded, and I took Gram into the hall to free the elves. Many were hurt from the battle, but, beyond that, the dwarves had only been holding them hostage, not torturing them or anything.

I limped down the hall, Gram in my hand, ready to cut the doors open, though the thought of smashing through dwarven-forged steel locks didn’t really appeal to me. I took a deep breath and raised the sword, but a cry from the hall stopped me.

One of the dwarves was running in my direction, jangling a large key ring. I lowered the sword. That would definitely make things a lot simpler. He apologized, said his name was Borimber, and bowed in my direction until I took the keys from his outstretched hand.

I opened the cages as fast as I could. It seems no one else was going to do it, not even the winded Borimber.

The elves were quiet, watching me open their doors, following me as I worked my way down the hall and back. An ancient old woman with a long gray braid down the length of her back and a demeanor that shouted wisdom and control stepped forward, holding her hand out to me. “My name is Unun,” she said, smiling at me. “I believe you know my granddaughter.”

I took her hand and bowed my head. “We have met,” I answered warily.

She laughed. “You are a mighty warrior,” she said. “But you wear your feelings on your shirt.”

I glanced down, but realized she didn’t mean it literally.

“Skella is a willful child, quick to action, slower to learn.”

What could I say? “Your grandson is wounded,” I said. “I cannot help him.”

Her face grew grave, and she waved at her people. They emerged from their cells, moving as one to the hall.

She went first, regal and stern. She would be a formidable friend … or enemy.

We spent the greater part of the night seeing to the wounded. A few of the elves had first-aid training, and they worked on the wounded.

Unun sat with her grandson’s head in her lap, stroking his forehead and chanting “Come home to me, little one. Let me light your way,” over and over.

The dwarves tended their own, separate from the elves, and I could see that some of them were shamed by the way they’d treated the elves.

Borimber brought us water but would not approach the elves.

Finally, one dwarf, a grizzled old man with a thinning beard and a broken arm, stepped to the elves. One of the elves, a large man by the name of Jara, stepped in front of him, his arms crossed over his chest, preventing the dwarf from reaching Unun.

The dwarf drew a long, thin sword. I sat up, ready to jump in, but the dwarf turned the blade around, offering the pommel to Jara. He went down on one knee, bowing his head, exposing his neck.

“I offer my life to you, Jara, in payment for the blood debt my clan owes yours.”

Jara took the blade and glanced back at Unun, who did not respond but continued to croon to Gletts. He turned back and raised the sword, and the dwarves bowed their heads or looked away. The blade whistled down, and I turned my head. There was a meaty thud, and the dwarf’s head hit the ground seconds before his body.

Katie cried out and looked away. These were not our people, not our ways, but I felt violated, confused. What kind of world was this?

“I declare blood truce,” Jara said, stepping away from the decapitated body. “Let Krevag’s sacrifice bind this peace.”

The elves murmured behind him but didn’t raise any objection. After a moment two younger dwarves came forward and dragged Krevag’s body back to where they were grouped. Jara waited as another dwarf approached, then he turned the blade around and handed it to the dwarf, pommel first.

“It is so,” the dwarf said. “My father’s blood will seal this bargain.” He bowed at Jara and stooped to pick up his father’s bloody head.

“Can we go home?” Katie asked.

“Sooner the better,” I said, watching them in horror. But I needed to check something first.

I approached Krevag’s son. “I need a word.”

He stopped. “I know of you,” he whispered. “You who killed the great beast, not once, but twice.”

“And I know of you,” I said, letting the anger bleed into my voice. “You kidnap kids and bleed them, using blood magic to make mead.”

His shoulders sagged. “It was not I, but Kraken and his brother, Bruden. They are the weavers of spells. I am a simple craftsman, no more.”

He looked at me, his father’s head dangling from his fist.

“I need to know it’s done, over.”

He pointed to two of the dwarven dead who had been separated from the others. “There lay your villains.”

The two that the T. rex had taken down. They were sprawled, untouched, in a pool of black blood.

It scared me, them soaking in the blood like that. I’d seen some pretty freaky stuff at Anezka’s with similar-looking muck.

“We will burn them,” he said. “Send their ashes to the great mother. Their spirits are shorn and cannot even beg to enter Hel.”

Harsh.

“So be it,” I said. “I want this to end.”

He glanced over his shoulder, his face wracked with pain. “You are rash to judge, young one. You do not fully appreciate our lives.”

“No, I don’t. But we are judged by how we act in bad times as well as good.”

He nodded. “Fair enough.”

I turned to go back to my friends, and he stopped me. “Smith,” he said quietly, “your name was brought to me by your friend, my brethren Rolph Brokkrson.”

I stopped midstep and turned. “Yeah?”

“He says you serve the blade.” It was definitely not a question.

I touched Gram in her sheath over my shoulder. “She is unsettled,” I said. “Things are changing.”

He smiled. “Life is change. I am sorry for our part in your pain,” he continued. “I owe you a debt.”

“Lot of debt around here,” I said. “I’ve seen how that works with you folks. I’d rather not,” I pointed to his father’s head, dripping blood on the stone floor.

He bowed.

I turned away again, and paused.

“There is one thing,” I said. “Who got the other samples of mead?”

Sixty-three

Turned out we were deep underneath a basketball stadium in the north end of Vancouver. The dwarves’ stronghold had been delved into the earth long before the stadium and the surrounding park had been built.

Once we were escorted out through a tunnel that led to a river, Katie and I went with the elves, while the dwarves went back inside to tend to their fallen.

Jara knew people and went to a bank of pay phones and made a call. Within thirty minutes a bus arrived, one of those private tour coaches. The guy who drove looked at Katie and me as we climbed aboard with our armor, my hammers, and, of course, Gram.

“You’re her,” he whispered as I stepped up the stairs.

“Yes,” Katie said, ushering me past the wide-eyed young man. “And she’s very tired.”

I almost laughed, letting her maneuver me to the back. They’d let us enter first, let us have our choice of seats.

Gletts they carried onboard, setting him in the back near us. The fallen elves they carried one at a time, laying them gently in the cargo area beneath the bus. A fine line separated the dead from the merely—I looked at Gletts—What was he? Lost? Wandering? Unun seemed convinced he would return somehow. I was waiting to be surprised.

The bus dropped us off inside Stanley Park.

I followed Unun and the elves as they carried their wounded and their dead into the forest. Dawn was just breaking over the horizon, but there was little joy in the returning light.

The fact that they lived in a heavily visited park and almost no one knew they were there would have surprised me a year ago. Now I just wondered at the magic used to conceal them.

Gletts and Skella lived with Unun; they had since their parents were killed by Jean-Paul’s minions a decade ago. They took Gletts to a central building along with the others to be tended to. If Gletts wasn’t exactly dead, maybe the rest of them were not beyond saving. All I knew was I was bone tired and could eat the bark off one of the surrounding trees.

Jara brought us food and water, settled us in a spare room in Unun’s house, and left us.

Katie and I talked quietly as we ate the food offered: nuts, berries, bread, and cheese. They brought us wine and water, both of which were heavenly.

“I have a list,” I told her as we ate.

“Of?”

“Where the potions went. They sent out four. Frederick got one, and Nidhogg. We know hers is in the house with Qindra.”

“And the others?”

“Just addresses,” I said, rubbing my forehead. “Memphis and Dublin.”

“More dragons?”

“Not sure,” I told her. “I would think so, but he was evasive.”

She leaned into me, putting her head on my shoulder. “I’m very tired.”

It must have been the exhaustion, but there was something different about Katie. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but she seemed larger somehow, more in the now, if that makes any kind of sense. We took turns cleaning our wounds and fell asleep in each other’s arms.

When I woke, it was nearly dark again. I was stiff and sore. I stretched, trying to work out the kinks. Katie still slept, but she’d been awake earlier in the day. She had changed clothes, bathed somewhere. A bath sounded heavenly.

Unun sat in the main room knitting when I came out.

“How’s Gletts?” I asked.

She didn’t pause in her knitting, but looked up at me with a smile. “He’s a strong boy. A good boy. He’ll find his way home eventually.”

I sat in a chair next to her, crossed my hands over my knees, and watched her work.

“Where’s Skella?”

She nodded. “She’s over with Gletts now. She looked in on you, but you were still sleeping. She and your Katie went down to the showers at the golf course. Katie said you would like to do the same when you woke.”

Golf course? Seemed inconvenient, but I guess they bathed on a different schedule than I was used to.

“We could draw you a bath,” she said, as if she knew what I was thinking, “but Katie said you’d balk at all the fuss.”

That was my Katie. “She knows me too well.”

“She loves you very much.”

I let that just settle over me, the glory of it. She loved me. What else could I ever need?

I sat there in silence, just soaking in the nothing. Peace ruled this house, quiet contemplation and … I looked around at all the pictures, the artwork and crafts that filled every corner. This house was full of love.

“We’ll need to get back, check on things. Let people know we are okay.”

Unun nodded. “Always in a rush, your kind. Burn the brighter for it.” She smiled, and I found no judgment there, no condemnation. Just a statement of fact.

She was right. I was itching to move, to get back home.

Katie woke soon after. She took me over to the meeting hall, where the fallen were laid out. Skella sat with Gletts, holding his hand and reading to him from a book of fairy tales.

She looked up as we approached and called one of the other women over to sit with Gletts. First she hugged me, crying. Then she escorted us over to the golf course. She hadn’t said anything to me, just sat and chatted with Katie quietly in the locker room while I showered.

The water was hot and all my cuts stung, but the heat helped ease some of the stiffness and aches. Katie whistled when I came out in a towel, smiling at me and smirking. Skella handed me a set of clothes folded neatly. I stepped behind a row of lockers and dropped the towel.