Stone Dragon (The First Realm) (12 page)

“Who’s a dwarf and a half!
I’m
a dwarf and a half!” Minos said, hacking in all directions. He fought without technique, without skill, but he was strong and fast. He ripped through the zombies and stomped them into mush. “There’s nothing my axe can’t fix!”

A zombie thrust with a long shovel, but Minos’s chain mail turned hard as plate. It lunged and tried to bite him, but he blocked with his buckler and slashed it in the throat. A well-aimed boot forced it back.

The village blacksmith lumbered in, a hammer in either hand.

“You are huge!” Minos said. “That means you have huge guts!” The little dwarf threw himself at the giant.

Something knocked me to the ground—it was a zombie dog. Even the
animals
were coming back to life. “Aaaugh get it off get it off!”

“I’ll save you!” Heronimo said, but was swarmed by undead chickens.

The blacksmith swung his meaty arms, hammers weaving a wall of hurt. Minos backed away, then drew a spellgun and shot the zombie in the face. The heavy wooden bullet blew out the back of its head and the zombie tumbled backward.

“Grooveh!” Minos said.

I remembered I was an elf and teleported out of there. I reappeared six feet up and landed on the dog. I rolled off and kicked it in the ribs, then smashed its skull with the mace. I looked to Heronimo. He was walking out of a cloud of feathers.

“Let’s not ever talk about this,” he said.

The boy whooped and threw more rocks. “Yes! Yes! So much violence!”

“Weren’t these your friends and neighbors?”

“That was yesterday!”

Fighting for real, Heronimo was a wonder. In his hands the longsword was lightning quick. He swept his blade and decapitated three at once, then chopped a zombie from neck to crotch. A cut, a parry, and he did the same thing to another zombie, only from crotch to neck. It took a step before falling in two pieces.

Another wave fell on us, but we broke their numbers through sheer ferocity. I turned on my Sight and confirmed that Minos was using magic. His gear blazed with runes. There was a speed spell in his boots and a bloodlust buff in his axe. With so many enchanted items even the boy would be a tough opponent.

Not being a melee specialist, I stayed on the edges, throwing fire where needed. The upgraded spell used only a fraction of the focus needed for a fireball. Instead of gathering water vapor and setting it on fire, it set the
air
on fire. I blasted the zombies from medium range and bashed the ones who got too close.

It was over in minutes. The doubly dead covered the ground. There was no blood, but the sticky black stuff more than made up for it. Everything stank.

“Ugh,” I said, and wished for an air-purification spell.

“Urgh,” Minos said, and the young dwarf bent over and vomited through his beard.

Heronimo wiped his blade on a corpse’s shirt. He glanced at the smoldering remains of the cottage and frowned. “The boy said this village was attacked yesterday. Why was that still burning?”

We all stared at each other.

“It’s a trap!”

A fireball came out of nowhere and blew off Heronimo’s left arm. “Aagh!”

More fireballs exploded around us, but we were moving too fast. “Run away, run away!” Minos said. We fled the village.

* * *

The two assassins on the roof watched them go. They dropped their veils and stretched their legs.

“Told you it wasn’t going to work.”

“Shut up, Dagonet.”

“Working for the Lord Governor has made you soft. And you put
so much effort
into slaughtering this village.”

“How was I to know he’d have bodyguards?” the spy said. “A barbarian and a dwarf. Angrod alone would have fallen to the zombies.”

“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. The 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.