Iron Elf - A Race Reborn (Book 2) (9 page)

“How the hell can a fist be gentle?”

Meerwen was having a spirited discussion with the abbess. Lots of gesticulating, lots of shouting that carried over the ice. We were too far to make sense of it but clearly they weren’t exchanging soup recipes. Of Dagonet there was no sign. Damn, she was good. Not only did she have to keep track of Meerwen and the nun, but she also had to keep track of everyone nearby. She was generating dozens of false images at once, one for every pair of eyes.

“I think the discussion’s coming to an end,” Mina said, and indeed my girlfriend had calmed down. She was nodding. Something had been decided. The sending withdrew. Only, instead of falling back into the river it drained of colour. What remained was a hollow shell—an exquisite ice statue.

Mina walked away. The city guard checked if the hole had frozen enough. Halflings approached in ones and twos. Someone set up an easel and began offering his services. “Sketches! Sketches next to the Ice Queen! Guaran-teed a good likeness! Skee-etches!”

“Pikcher frames! Pikcher frames to go with! All colours! Piiiii-kacherframes!”

Halflings don’t miss a trick.

I met up with Meerwen. “What happened? Can I help?”

“It turns out I have to leave town too.” She shot me a look. “Don’t worry, I can take care of myself. Go take care of your precious honour.”

CHAPTER 8: MEERWEN

“What did the abbess say?” asked Father.

“She told me the temple was under attack. She wouldn’t say how. Just told me to hurry over to Snow Mountain with as many soldiers as I could trust.”

“Why you, specifically?”

“She trusts me in a fight, she knows I have military connections, and she respects my skills with earth magic. She told me the realm would be in danger if the temple fell. I’m leaving on the next yacht. I’d appreciate if you could send troops.”

“That will take some time. Will you be okay till then? What about your boyfriend?”

“He’s busy. He’ll be gone a year. I’m doing this alone.”

Father’s face darkened. “That little punk. He and I are going to have words.”

Mother walked in. “What’s all this?”

“Your daughter is going on a dangerous mission without backup.”

“Why is she always my daughter at times like this?”

“My family wasn’t known for recklessness until she came along.”

“You did not just say that, mister. Didn’t you teleport all the way to Corinthe on the word of a Veneanar retainer?

“And didn’t you recommend that Meerwen train with the Fighting Nuns? Her boyfriend isn’t going to lift a finger to help her. In fact, he’s going to be away for an entire year!”

“Maybe he has good reasons, we don’t know.”

“I’ve got to go,” I said. “People could be dying as we speak.”

“Aren’t you going to pack?” Mother asked.

I was already wearing my armour, so I opened the closet and took one of the backpacks. “Okay, I’m ready.”

“You had that ready?”

“This one’s for cold weather.”

Father shook his head. “My little girl grew up into a crazy survivalist. At least say goodbye properly.”

I hugged them. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

Mother said, “Be safe, my baby.” Father patted my back. “I’ll assemble a task force. I’ll be there before you know it.”

This far into winter, the only transport fast enough were the ice yachts. One tall sail and three metal runners, with precious little space in between. I was not looking forward to the trip.

Mina met me at the docks. She was dressed for travelling. “I know about your mission. I’m here to help.”

“Did Angrod make you do this?”

“He told me to hire reinforcements, but I’m here on my own behalf. Brandish is my home too. And I wasn’t looking forward to facing the chroniclers when they notice the crown prince has gone missing.”

“Where are the hired men? Where are your friends the dragon and the barbarian?”

“We’ll meet the team in Lamemheth.” Mina pursed her lips. “And as you might have heard, we sent Cruix and Heronimo on an impromptu diplomatic mission.” She slung her duffel bag. “Now get aboard before I change my mind.”

“Well, short help is better than no help at all.”

CHAPTER 9: ANGROD

I rode through the moorlands, down the lonely country road. It was a dark night, and a cold one. Every gust of wind threw snow in my face.

It could’ve been worse. The old royal road was slush-free and plainly visible, drawing on stored energy to heat and even light its surface. It wasn’t very bright, but a dim glow went a long way on nights like this.

Elves didn’t make roads like these anymore, even though we still could. There were only a few remnants of what had been a continent-spanning system and most of these surviving examples didn’t go anywhere interesting. Wear and tear on the important bits had seen to that.

This was why Meerwen and Mina headed to another city by glorified sled while I headed to the middle of nowhere in relative comfort. I rode that glowing ribbon up to the old abandoned inn. My horse’s hooves clattered on the cobblestones of the innyard. All was quiet within. The windows were shuttered and dark. Nobody was home, so it seemed.

I gave a low whistle and Tamril said, “Don’t move.”

“Will something bad happen?”

“If you call an arrow in the back bad, sure.”

She stepped out of the doorway and lit a flare. “Stand down, guys. It’s him.” To turned to me. “Go right in. He’s waiting.”

Arawn, king of the caprans, was in the dining lounge. He looked more bandit than king, with the sort of good looks that weren’t spoiled by facial scars or a broken nose. He also had a silver hoop earring, an abundance of body hair, and muscles to rival a Northlander. He grinned. “We meet again! Please sit down. Drink with me!”

There was a wine bottle and a gas lantern on the table. He filled two glasses and allowed me to choose, then raised the other glass. “To life.”

“To life,” I took a sip. “It’s good. No doubt you’ve heard about my sweet tooth.”

“I get reports. It’s made on my own estate, out of raisins. Like your ice wine, except the grapes are dried instead of frozen. How have you been?”

I summarized the past few years. I didn’t seem to have done much in all that time.

“But that’s not true,” he said. “You have become a skilled combat mage and wyvern hunter. What’s more, you are now the famous crown prince.”

“Some prince. I don’t make policy, I just make appearances. I cut ribbons and give speeches. I even do weddings.”

He smiled. “How many schools and hospitals have opened in the past sixteen years, compared to the sixteen years before that? I think you’ll find that the various city governments have been more civic-minded since you began representing them.”

“On one hand they don’t want to be embarrassed, and on the other it’s nice when a royal shows up at your event. Is this what being king is about? Stand around and look good?”

“You don’t need to be special to run a kingdom. But to represent its people takes courage and strength. Your subjects—your entire race—will be judged by your conduct.”

“Gah. Really? I thought it was all palaces and harems.”

“Royalty is responsibility. You carry the crown—it does not carry you.” He took a drink. “Although harems aren’t out of the question. Would you like a few concubines?”

I took a long drink. “I’ll think about it. How are things in your kingdom?”

“Peaceful, although there are those who will rattle their sabres and complain their horses lack exercise. The crown is not too heavy, but it has begun to chafe. Your mission, should you accept it, is to rule in my stead for a year.”

“What?” I had leaped to my feet.

“I wish you to replace me for one year, during which I shall tour Brandish anonymously. I get a nice vacation, you get to practice being king, and no one shall ever know.”

“In case you haven’t noticed, I was somewhere else when they were handing out horns and hooves.”

“That’s why I brought this.” He offered me a ring box.

“Why, Arawn, this is so sudden.”

“These are magic rings. They will allow us to masquerade as one another.”

I looked at the rings with my elven senses. Light pulsed across the burnished steel, forming swirls and spirals.

“I’ve seen something like this, once. An amulet that changed your apparent gender. Dwarven made?”

He nodded. “These are more complex. The rings are twins—the wearers can exchange likenesses indefinitely. The catch is they can’t use magic.”

“If I were posing as a capran, I could hardly be slinging elven spells.” I picked up a ring. “What would happen if I choose not to do this?”

He frowned. “Ask rather what would cease to happen. If you refuse, we could no longer be friends. I could extend you no further favours.”

Arawn’s favours were not to be taken lightly. He had been a good friend and valuable ally. If all I needed to do was give him a vacation, why not? “I would regret losing our friendship,” I said. “More, I would regret going back on my promise.” I put the ring on. “The things we do for honour and friendship.”

“Now we have to touch rings and recite the magic words.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Nope, it’s all in the manual. Okay, fist bump. Repeat after me: In brightest day, in brightest night, these rings shall make us seem alike.”

“In brightest day, in brightest night, these rings shall make us seem alike.”

“Let those who do not trust their sight, be made to think that all is right.”

I repeated the words. There was a slight electric shock. “Did it work?”

Arawn had become my double. “What do you think?”

“You even sound like me. And I… sound… so irritating. Do we trade places now? Where will you go?”

“Here’s my cloak. You’re taking a carriage to the Silver World tonight. As for me, I’ve always wanted to spend time with the Wood Elves. I’ve heard they’re real swingers.”

Dagonet perched on the roof. There were a dozen caprans on the ground, as alert as any warriors she had encountered. Clearly they were elite bodyguards—it had taken all her training to reach this vantage point.

She didn’t dare reveal herself. She might be one of the best assassins in the Elendil Order, but she couldn’t overcome so many. Sure, she could drop down and take out one, maybe two, but then she’d be surrounded by heavily armed men. Assassins did not grandstand. They did not engage in pitched battles where their concealable weaponry would be pitted against full-sized swords and axes. Assassins who did that might as well run around in plain sight.

The door opened. Angrod and a capran came out. Something was different about the boss. Her mind kept slipping off the idea. She shook her head. Focus, she thought. What was wrong?

The capran—Arawn, she assumed—motioned with his hand. He repeated it, and she recognized the signal they’d rehearsed for such an occasion. Disguise rings, of course. A carriage drove up, and one of the warriors brought Angrod’s horse. She’d ridden double with him to get there but it seemed she’d have to follow on foot.

The snow fell harder. I drew my borrowed cloak around me and shivered. I missed my magic already.

“Is that the horse I gave you?” Arawn asked. “She got fat! What have you been feeding her?”

“Kate is not fat! She is my fastest steed.”

The bodyguards had mounted up. All of them were sticking to the carriage.

“You aren’t taking any men?” I asked. “Will you be all right?”

“I’ll take off this ring soon. Anonymity shall be my shield. Farewell, my friend!” He vaulted into the saddle. “Pony! We must ride like thunder!” He galloped into the night.

“Spirited man, that Angrod,” Tamril said. “Shall we go, milord?”

“Yes. Yes of course.” I climbed into the carriage and she closed the door behind us.

“I’m so glad we got out of the cold. Don’t you think so, milord?”

It was a small carriage, with just one bench. We sat very close. She snuggled closer. “What’s the matter, my husband?”

Oh gods.

“Just, ah—”

“Do you want to take me now, here?” She snuggled even closer. “You’re so romantic!”

Please take care of my people, Arawn had told me. Leave the kingdom the way you found it. Fool that I was, I hadn’t asked if he had a family.

Tamril started kissing my neck. “Perhaps some oral relief?”

Damn that man!

The Silver World is a lot like the First Realm. I don’t know if they’re parallel worlds, but the landscapes are almost identical. The vegetation’s a bit different and the seasons aren’t in sync (it was spring here) but otherwise I knew my way around.

It was a secret mission, so once through the portal we travelled at night, spending each day in some secluded clearing. We couldn’t use the inns, but Arawn’s personal guard were good at making camp. There lay the problem. How could I refuse Tamril her wifely dues when our tent was so cosy and private?

“What’s the matter, my husband?” She cuddled up beside me. “Why won’t you kiss me?”

Arawn is a big scary guy. He moves like a master swordsman. And then there’s the fact that he’s a king, with an entire nation at his command. His retinue alone can shoot and dress game on the gallop. You do not antagonize people like that.