Stone Dragon (The First Realm) (13 page)

I lunged, mace cocked for an overhead blow, and Heronimo yelled so hard I forgot myself. This allowed him to parry my stick, wrench the mace from my hands, and kick my legs from under me.

I was flat on my back, staring straight up.

“Heronimo, did you by any chance train in a convent?”

* * *

“These are amazing trees,” Minos said. “I have heard of nothing like them.”

We rode down the narrow trail, sunlight filtering through the branches. The trees were all the same kind. Each was a leafy tower so wide you could fit a dance floor in one hollowed-out trunk. Only a little light made it through the forest canopy, and at ground level it was chilly and dark.

“The trail could be wider, though,” Minos said. “Surely this place has a tourist trade?”

Conrad shook his head. “An elf-witch lives in these woods. She discourages intruders.”

“How does she do this?” I asked.

“Does she enchant those who look upon her?” asked Heronimo.

“Does she whisper into their minds?” asked Minos.

He didn’t see the tripwire, but he
did
see the swinging log that hit him in the chest and knocked him off his horse.

“Minos!” Heronimo said. He swung off his horse and ran to our companion, but the ground opened under him and he fell into the pit.

I’d dismounted at the same time—something grabbed my leg and hoisted me into the air.

“She tends to booby-trap the forest,” Conrad said.

The blood was rushing to my head. “I could’ve used that information five seconds ago!”

He shrugged. “She doesn’t usually rig the trails. Anyway, they’re nonlethal.”

“Hah!” Heronimo said. “So these are
nonlethal
wooden stakes?”

“Can’t breathe.” Minos said.

“Man, you rang like a gong,” I said. I teleported out of the snare, but forgot to reorient myself and landed on my head. “Ow!”

Rich feminine laughter echoed through the trees.

“A little help?” Heronimo said. “Kind if pinned here.”

I was getting to my feet when I was surrounded by wood elves. They carried bows and boar spears and didn’t look friendly, despite all of them being women.

Heronimo pulled himself out of the hole. He was bleeding from a dozen punctures but he sounded more amazed than hurt. “Did I lose too much blood? We seem to have been ambushed by bikini elves.”

“I’m seeing it,” Minos said. “They should be ashamed!”

More feminine laughter—and then the Witch of Deepwood stepped out of hiding.

She was tall and red-haired. Her age was just starting to show but gravity had been kind. “Looks like we caught ourselves some big ‘uns,” she drawled. “We eat well tonight, girls!”

“Eep,” Minos said, and struggled to sit up.

“Who is your leader?” the Witch asked.

“That would be me,” I said.

“Tell me, dear boy, what are you doing in my land?”

The witch fixed her glittering green eyes on me. Suddenly I knew it wouldn’t be wise to lie to her. “I’m on the run because I turned into a dragon. My human friend is hunting for the elf that killed his parents and my dwarf friend is in it for the adventure. The kid’s with us because his entire village turned to zombies.”

“You didn’t tell me about the dragon!” Minos said.

“I’m sorry, buddy. But I had it under control, there was nothing you could do, and
plausible deniability
. Okay?!”

The Witch grabbed me by the face and looked deeply into my eyes.

“Hey, buy me a drink first!” I said. I felt every layer was peel away. The past few weeks flashed before my eyes. Then she let go and I felt like a finished book. There were tears in my eyes. “Goddammit, we just met!”

Seconded!
Cruix said.

The wood elves tensed. Bows were drawn and spears readied. The Witch waved them down. “It’s okay, they’re fine.”

“Does this mean you’ll let us go?” I said.

“Sure,” she said. “Now, can you tell the boy to lower his weapons? They’re still pointed at me and my lieutenant.”

“Weapons?”
Conrad said. He had his pistols out. Half a dozen arrows and spears were pointed at him, but the guns never wavered. “I don’t
need
no stinkin’ weapons!”

* * *

“Do you always wear so little?” Heronimo asked a wood elf.

“Actually, we only put these on when we’re expecting guests. Normally we just wear the bottoms.”

We rode down the trail, this time with wood elves jogging along.

I’m not referring to different species when I say wood elves and dark elves. Elves come in all colors (many not found in nature) but we’re all just one race. Dark elves are a minority who are born nocturnal, white-haired, and moody. Wood elves, meanwhile, are those individuals who have given up city life for the supposedly more natural lifestyle of our ancestors. This involves bows, spears, and hand-woven tops.

“So what do you all do in Deepwood?” I asked the Witch, who jogged (
joggled
) beside me.

“We hunt, fish, and forage,” she said, not breaking stride. “There are small clearings where we grow everything else. We have plenty of leisure, and we mostly just enjoy ourselves.”

“I see.”

“We do lots of socializing… if you know what I mean.” She looked up and winked. “We also protect the forest, the largest single organism in the world.”

“Didn’t see that one coming. Really?”

“Oh yes. All these trees share the same root system, which is
massive
. It’s why Deepwood hasn’t fallen into King’s Lake despite being mostly sand. The roots hold everything together.”

“And how does this organism repay you? Does it act as the repository for the memories of your people?”

“Ah, no. But we
do
turn its sap into booze.”

Chapter 15

The main settlement was treehouse heaven. Nothing happened at ground level but instead took place twenty, fifty, a hundred feet up. There were platforms, walkways, and apartments among the trees, all shaped out of living wood. As with the bridge, the wood elves had thrown around some serious magic.

Fire magic, oddly enough. The same element that allowed for so much destruction was also helpful in guiding plant growth. This was why nearly every red mage had a bonsai garden.

Going up, there were ladders and spiral staircases. Going down, there were ziplines and ropes. I remembered this was the second reason I’d always wanted to run away with the wood elves. The first reason, of course, was the topless babes.

“Scandalous,” Minos said. He practically hissed.

“What’s wrong?” I said. “Don’t dwarves believe in airing out their nipples? I know humans do.”

Heronimo nodded. “Yes, humans boob. I mean, humans do. It’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”

We passed a pair of identical blondes. They had pretty eyes and nice smiles, but that wasn’t what held our attention.

“Those two are going to have
serious
back problems in the future,” I said.

“H-how can this be?” Heronimo said. “How can slender elves be so well-endowed?”

“I can see their endowments from behind. They’re not even raising their arms!”

“You two are disgusting,” Minos said. “And those two are
completely
out of proportion.”

Just then I was reminded that wood elves were
not
a single-gender society.

“Oh my,” Minos said. “Oh, my.”

The male wood elves were huge—almost as muscular as humans. They lounged about in their g-strings and feathered capes. “Impressive,” Heronimo said. “And I thought all elves puny.”

“I am not puny,” I said. “Give me some light and some posing oil and I’ll show you beefcake.”

“Angrod, any of these men could break you in half. And while they couldn’t do the same to
me
, I’ll admit they would be a challenge.”

“The men spend much of their time working on their abs,” said the Witch. “Come to think of it, so do the women. We cultivate our bodies, the better to dance and fight. We are not city elves but our lives are full of beauty.”

“Art is plumage, eh?” I said. “And here I thought you were just party animals.”

The Witch leered. “What better canvas, what better clay, than the artist’s own body?”

“No argument,” I said. “How about you, Heronimo?”

“Er—”

“We have an hour until dinner,” said the Witch, “so make yourselves at home.”

“—oh, good. I could use a chance to breast.
Rest
.”

* * *

“Before there was the moon, there was the earth. Still molten from the forge it was a naked, red, and lonely world. Nothing lived, for nothing made flesh could survive without oceans or clouds. It was a land populated only by impersonal forces. By gigantic elementals that dwarfed the gods. But there were no gods, back when things were new. It was an age of young planets and blind titans. They danced round the sun and flirted with one another.

“One such titan kissed the earth, shattering both worlds. So violent was the force of their coupling that both were shaken to pieces. Our planet survived, but the titan was destroyed. Had you stood on the earth’s surface you would have seen horizons meet. The slap would have thrown you into the air even as the ground split and the mountains leaped.

“The world spun like a kicked ball. It rained continents.

“Had you survived, you might have found yourself in the ring of wreckage circling the wounded world. Half the rubble gathered, and over several weeks rock fused with rock and our moon took shape. The other half smashed back to earth. This was iron from the titan’s heart. It sank to the planet’s center. This spinning core of molten iron is what throws up the energy that we use in our workings.

“This is the story of the birth of the moon and the origin of magic.”

The storyteller bowed. We all audience applauded. We were in the village square, a platform suspended from four massive trees. Everyone had given something to the buffet table.

“Have you tried these fritters?” Conrad asked. “They’re really good!”

“So is the sap-mead,” I said. I emptied my cup. “No wonder they protect the forest!”

“Where’s Heronimo?” Minos asked. “Wait, I see him… good lord he’s gone native.”

“Woo!” Heronimo said. He wore little more than tassels and face paint. “I am the ultimate warrior! Fear me, evildoers!”

He ran around the platform and balanced on the railings, pumping his fists and flexing his arms. None of the male wood elves could match him for size or definition.

“Everything about me is larger than life! Everything I have… is
big
.”

“Good lord,” Minos said, coloring visibly.

“Yeah, the mead sneaks up on you,” said the Witch.

Minos was now blushing deeply and I looked closely at the little dwarf. He had a beard, sure, but now that I thought about it—

“Why don’t we get out of here?” asked the Witch. “I’ve got something to show you.”

“I bet you do,” I said. She led me from the crowd and over to one of the trees, where two ropes awaited us. She handed me one and stepped onto the rail. “You sure you can handle this?”

“I’m an elf!” I said. “I get a dexterity bonus too.”

“Okay then,” she said, launching herself off the platform. I followed, realized what I’d done, and screamed.

“Relax!” she said. “Try not to hit anything!”

I screamed louder.

Fortunately the ropes were tied to branches, not tree trunks, so I started to slow halfway through the swing. The Witch reached the next tree, grabbed another rope, and pushed off. I followed with less grace.

“Who takes care of all these ropes?” I yelled.

“Trained monkeys!”

“… Seriously?”

Under the moonlight, we sailed from tree to tree. We swung over the forest floor, sometimes so low our toes brushed the ground. We stepped onto branches, hopped from limb to limb, and ran down bridges of fallen trees. We flew along ziplines, leaped across ravines, and always, sailed from tree to tree.

I don’t know how long we did that—moved effortlessly through the forest. I was lost in the moment, and the moment was movement. There was the moonlight, the forest, and the wind. At some point I found the Witch clinging to me (or was I clinging to her?) and we swung together in endless rhythm.

We took the longest possible route, I’m sure.

When we finally broke apart, we had landed in a tree overlooking a clearing. As we adjusted our clothes I couldn’t help it—I beat my chest and let loose the victory cry of the bull ape. It ululated across the wilderness and stirred up clouds of birds.

“Why do men always have to make a big deal out of it?” said the Witch, shaking her head.

I grinned and wiped sweat from my brow. “It was great. Did we have to go all this way for that?”

“Not really. I just wanted to make it up to you for the mind-reading trick.” She pulled a bow and quiver from a hidden cache.

“Whoa, whoa,” I said, stepping back. “I thought we had something special!”

She smiled. “Look to the clearing.”

There was a ring of standing stones. Sparks jumped from stone to stone.

“A fairy ring,” she said. “My ancestors discovered it. It’s a soft spot between realities—and we’re about to get a visitor.”

“How do you know?”

“I am the Witch of Deepwood. The forest tells me everything.”

“So does a tree make a sound when it falls? Does a bear shit in the woods?”

“Shush,” said the Witch. “Watch.”

The sparks multiplied, arcing among the monoliths like a thing alive. The air smelled of hot copper and my hair stood on end. Energy was building, humming, and I opened my senses to discover their source. Force lines sprang into my Sight and I saw a many-sided whirlpool inside the circle. The entire magic field was turning and churning, preparing for an awesome feat of magic.

Pop
.

A spherical area disappeared, instantly replaced by another section of air and dirt—and one more thing. There was a halfling inside the fairy ring. She slumped unconscious in a shiny metal chair.

“Pull her out, Angrod.”

“Why me?”

“Because I said so. Hurry or the ring will teleport you both to a dark place.”

“Are you sure it won’t just return her?”

“Of course. Now
go!
”

I ran inside the circle. The halfling’s chair had wheels and handles and I realized she was a
crippled
halfling. I grasped the handles and pushed her out of there.

Just in time too. We’d just cleared the stones when there was a
pop
and a sudden wind, like a reverse explosion. I shivered. We’d almost been teleported into a vacuum.

“Nice work,” the Witch said. “Now let’s take a look at our interdimensional refugee.”

* * *

The halfling girl was strange, to say the least.

There were synthetic materials in her clothes. Quite ordinary for an elf or dwarf, but halflings preferred homespun. Being nonmagical, they only used natural fabrics. These clothes were better than anything halflings could make, and yet they had seams and stitches. The manufacturers had access to artificial fabrics but knew nothing of tailoring spells that shaped material on a molecular level.

The wheeled chair was made of several parts, like a dwarven product, and it too demonstrated great manufacturing skill. It must have been expensive, though it was unnecessary in Brandish, where even the poorest halfling could afford elven healing. The girl was paralyzed, it was true, but repairing spinal cords was only a day’s work for a skilled water mage.