Stone Dragon (The First Realm) (9 page)

Too bad about Valandil. The old fool had been a hero at the end, but it was probably for the best. If his apprentice hadn’t killed him, Findecano’s man would have. The Lord Governor reflected on the turn of events, trusting on instinct to show him the way.

A healer approached. “Help you with that burn, milord? You shouldn’t even be on your feet.”

He waved her away. “I’ll be fine. Take care of the others. Is my wife going to be all right?”

“They’ve finished setting her arm. I think that’s her walking toward us.”

Tari had her arm in a sling. Findecano embraced her, gently. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

“A clean break and the healer didn’t see any other problems. It’s a good thing you were on top of me.”

He grinned. “I’ve heard that before.”

She punched him with her other arm. “And what about your burn, my husband? That looks bad.”

Findecano’s right leg was a big mottled burn. It was red, black, and thoroughly seared. The woolen hose was completely gone.

He gritted his teeth. “I’m warding off the pain with air magic. It’s not helping it heal, but it’ll do until the emergency passes.”

The healer had gone. Tari waved her hand and enveloped them in a bubble of quiet. “And how does this affect us?” she said, moving her lips as little as possible.

“It seems I’ll have to kill Angrod after all. I was going to have his claim thrown out of court—it was a joke after all—but
this
has forced my hand.”

“I’ll wager your agent is pleased with this development.”

“Oh, I’m sure. Aren’t you, my dear agent?”

“Son of a bitch,” said a disembodied voice.

“May I assume that was a general and rhetorical
son of a bitch?
Or were you referring to me?”

The spy fidgeted. “Uh, of course it wasn’t you, milord. It’s just that I was trying so hard.”

Findecano nodded. “Reinforcing the floor under you was a step in the right direction, but you were still a drain on the local magic field. Is there something you wanted to tell me?”

“Just got a message from the Grand Master. He says reports of the dragons’ extinction were exaggerated and wishes to tell you he’s sending a team to deal with this last one.”

“Who told him about it?”

“Uh, I did, milord. But you didn’t order me not to.”

Findecano frowned. “We’re going to talk about your loyalties. In the meantime, tell the head of your order that he may hunt this dragon so long as he doesn’t hamper my own efforts. No doubt the public will want the dragon’s head.”

“He seemed to know all this already. He probably has other assets in the city.”

“We’ll talk about this later. My dear? Please drop the screen. I must coordinate the cleanup.”

Tari dispelled the working and the sounds of the hall rushed in. To Findecano, the many subdued conversations sounded like a military camp after a battle. The spy bowed, invisible to everyone else, and left.

“That man concerns me,” Tari said.

“A nice enough boy, for an assassin.”

Her eyes widened. “Surely you’re not going to introduce her to Meerwen?”

He scratched his chin. “There’s an idea. At least he won’t transform into a dragon.”

They walked over to the mage who’d lost his head. He lay in a body bag. The plastic was too flat above the shoulders.

“Did you know him?” Tari asked.

“Feniel Tarhassdorien. I handled his exit interview. I’m going to have to call his mother.”

She reached over and squeezed his arm. “These things happen.”

He shook his head. “I thought our generation was the last to deal with dragons. They’re damn hard to kill. I would’ve stopped Meerwen, but she ran out so quickly. Now she’s—”

“Mother! Father!”

Meerwen hobbled in, supported by a pair of royal guardsmen. She shook free and moved to hug her parents. “I’m so glad to see you both!”

“Why are you all muddy?” her mother asked. “You’ve ruined that dress!”

Meerwen grinned. “I did the old bullet drop, punched a hole in the dragon. Splashed into a lake, had to pull myself out of the lake bottom.”

“Did you kill it?” her father asked.

She shook her head. “It flew on. We haven’t found its body.”

“Milord,” said Findecano’s secretary. “I’m swamped with messages from the city council. They demand action against this rogue wizard or dragon, whatever Angrod Veneanar has become.”

“I’m already making a list of the mages and knights that will be on the task force.”

Meerwen saluted, thumping her chest with her fist. “My Lord Governor, I formally request to lead that force.”

“You, my daughter?”

“I
am
an officer of the royal guard, and as a mage and knight I’m qualified to lead both warriors and wizards.”

Findecano scratched his chin. On one hand, this was a chance to gain more glory for House Elanesse. On the other hand, this was his baby girl.

“Sire, this dragon
must
be hunted down,” she said.

“The dragon has a name, remember?” Tari said. “Have you forgotten that he’s the reason you’re wearing a low-cut gown?”

Findecano coughed. “Is there anything else?” he asked his secretary.

The blonde elf glanced at her notes. “You’re under considerable pressure from various special interest groups, all of them demanding action. One such group, BADD, is baying for the dragon’s blood.”

“BADD?” Meerwen asked.

“Bothered About Dangerous Dragons.”

* * *

I woke naked and in a hole.

It says something about an elf’s drinking habits that I didn’t see anything wrong with either of that. I ached all over, and I needed to use magic to soothe my joints and muscles. Again, that was to be expected.

I was in a forest, but for some reason the earth was torn up to one side. As if something had crashed, skipped, and crashed again, plowing up the ground as it went. Trees had been knocked down, and the ones bordering the clearing were branchless and splintered.

I’d forgotten something. I looked down at the hole. It was shaped vaguely like… what…?

Oh, hell.

I’d done that! I’d turned into a dragon and
murdered
my master. I’d also fought several combat mages and killed a few. I was perversely proud of that, but then I despaired. Valandil, a man I’d known twenty years, was dead by my hand. So were others.

If that weren’t bad enough, there was an alien mind in my head and it would extinguish me in less than three months. To say I was in big trouble would be the understatement of the century. I was twice damned, twice condemned.

On the bright side, they probably didn’t want me as king anymore.

It took two hours to find a road. I was somewhere on the Green Plains, roughly between Drystone and the southernmost city of Vergath. I’d flown farther than I thought.

Thankfully, I was no longer naked. Say what you will about our drinking habits, but elves come prepared. I’d tucked a set of clothes into hammerspace. Granted, the thin shirt and boat shoes weren’t the best for a midnight hike, but I’d packed them against waking up in a strange bedroom. Who knew I’d be leaving the city via dragon? It certainly wasn’t in my horoscope.

Leo: Forces internal and external have put you in a dangerous spot. Maintain control over yourself or risk causing a scene. Now is not the time to debut an outrageous new look.

It was a clear night, with a full moon, and to make sure I didn’t trip on anything I had my Sight working. Everything was sparkly, but there wasn’t a farmhouse in sight.

There wasn’t any sign of pursuit, but that made sense. Flying is tremendously draining if you don’t have wings. Also, this far from a city there were no patrols. I was counting my other blessings when—

“Stand and deliver!” a man boomed.

Shit.

The man stepped onto the path. From his voice, size, and manner of dress he was obviously human.

Humans. There was no mistaking them. Six feet tall, heavily muscled, and armed to the teeth. And that was just the women. This character towered a full head and shoulders over me. He was broad, massive, and decked in fur and leather.

“Hand over the valuables!” he said, slapping his side so I could see the longsword on his hip. “Come on, be quick about it!”

“Have you taken a look at me? I’ve only got the clothes on my back.”

“I’ll have none of that! I know you elves—you all carry pots of gold and cookies.”

Let’s kill him
, Cruix said.

“Shut up, you bloodthirsty animal!” I said.

“Hey!” The man looked hurt. “This is a legitimate economic transaction. Just cough up some coins and you’ll be on your way.”

Regular or extra-crispy?

I gritted my teeth. “I’ve had a really bad day. Please step aside.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Fine.” I reached behind me and pulled out my sticks.

The man drew his sword, but hesitated. “Is that all you’ve got?”

I twirled them, but he didn’t seem impressed. “I have spent twenty years mastering the sword,” he said. “It would be dishonorable to use that skill on an unarmed man.”

“Hey, I
am
armed!”

He shook his shaggy head. “That won’t do.”

“Another time, then?” I tried to slip past him but he blocked me with the outstretched blade.

Why don’t we
— I silenced Cruix with an effort of will. It was easier now that I was an elf again.

“If you give me your word not to run away, I shall make the fight more equal,” said the highwayman. Since the alternative was to kill him, I nodded.

He went to a nearby tree, where he selected a straight branch and hacked it free. Trimming off the twigs, he fashioned a staff as long as his sword.

“Now we are ready to fight,” he said, holding the staff in a low guard.

The moon was high and bright, but I asked whether he would need additional light.

“That will not be necessary,” he said, and I saw his own eyes flash. Oh, right. Humans have catlike night vision.

We attacked at the same time, our weapons splitting the air. Stick met staff met stick. We parried and swung. Our weapons clacked—they clattered and cracked. He had a double reach advantage (longer arms and longer weapon) but I was dual-wielding. And the first rule when fighting a dual wielder is
Watch both hands
.

He parried my strike, went for a rib shot. I batted it aside and snapped a cut at his head. He grunted. He jabbed with the staff and I twisted aside and let it pass. Then I drummed on his chest. Bam-bam-bam.

He rallied and swung the staff down, nearly knocking the stick from my hand. The hand went numb. Damn, he was strong! I peeked at his aura looking for magical enhancement, but he was just naturally powerful. He swept low and I blocked just in time—the staff cracked against my knee and I howled and hopped away.

“Do you yield?” he asked.

“Like hell!”

I came in high, smashing his guard down and jabbing into his chest. It was like poking a tree. He grunted, but whirled the staff one-handed. I ducked the long-range attack. He went on the offensive and the staff seemed to twist and bend. He jabbed and caught me in the gut, knocking the wind out of me. He was
good
. I threw a stick. He ducked, but it gave me time to get inside his swing. He brought up the staff but it thumped against my upper arm. I grabbed one of his wrists and used my other stick to beat him around the head.

He snorted like a bull and butted me in the chest, then surged forward, hitting me with his shoulder and sending me flying. I’d opened a few cuts in his head but he was very much in the fight. Skilled
and
tough.

Time to cheat. I pointed the stick at his face and triggered a concussive blast. The gust of wind hit like a punch and was my favorite sparring trick.

The runes on my stick flared red and what hit the man’s face was a blast of
fire
. “Aaargh!” he said, and dropped his staff.

“Damn! I didn’t mean to do that!” I dropped my stick and rushed to his aid, only to get a haymaker to the jaw.

Things went black for a second. I don’t remember hitting the ground, but the next thing I knew I was trying to sit up.

“Ugh,” I said, turned my head, and threw up. I wondered what I was vomiting when I’d emptied my guts at the royal palace. I decided not to think about it.

“I can still hear you,” the man said. “You still want to fight?”

I shook my head, which only made me dizzier. “You won this one, champ.”

“You blinded me,” he said. “That’s no victory.”

Slowly I got to my feet. “How about a draw?”

He faced me, then sighed. “I guess that’s as good as it gets.”

“Did I really blind you?”

“I will heal, in time. Meanwhile I shall be helpless. I won’t be waylaying anybody.”

“Let me take a look. I know some healing magic and I can have you back on the highway in no time.”

He was quiet for a second. “You are a wizard, sir?”

“Journeyman mage.”

“So you could have ended this fight before it even started?”

“Uh, yes,” I said. Also, I could’ve just teleported past him. I was in unfamiliar ground, but I could probably have blinked ahead and gotten a head start. Why didn’t I think of that?

Heh.

Goddamn dragon. I turned my attention to the human, who now sat with his sword in his hands. “I’m not meant be a thief, am I?”

“Not in Brandish,” I said. “Look, I’m sorry about the flame attack. I honestly just meant to knock you out. I can fix it. Call it my one good deed for the day.”

“I am called Heronimo, stranger, and I am in your debt.”

Chapter 11

Elves base their magic on the elements of Earth, Air, Fire, and Water, even though those things don’t have any scientific basis. When an earth mage imagines they’re drawing power from the earth, they’re accessing the same energy field as the air mage who’s supposedly drawing power from the air. A fire mage doesn’t really need a hair-trigger temper, either, and a water mage doesn’t need a tub of water, but it helps to associate magic with
something
. An invisible energy field is, by definition, hard to visualize. It may surround and penetrate every living thing but it’s nothing on which to build a belief system.