Iron Elf - A Race Reborn (Book 2) (6 page)

“You’re just worried that you might have to answer to him.”

“No one man should have all that power, least of all someone who hasn’t earned it. That’s why I have contingency plans. For instance, if you marry Angrod that’ll give me some influence over him.”

I stood up. “So that’s the plan? Either make him a son-in-law or—or a corpse? And you’d use me as bait either way?”

He looked pained. “I couldn’t ever hurt you. Corinthe was the work of a rogue agent. Angrod’s friend took care of him, and the rest were killed or otherwise dealt with. I made sure.”

“And you’ll never try to have Angrod killed?”

He took my hands. “As long as you have affection for him, I will not harm him.”

I hated this. Too much was left unsaid. Was I talking to Findecano the father, or Findecano the politician? “Can we change the subject? I’m sure there are lots of other things we can talk about. Those rings, for instance.”

“Oh, you noticed?”

“Daddy, you haven’t changed your hairstyle in a hundred years. Of course I noticed! Also, they’re kind of chunky.”

“They are, aren’t they?” He raised his hand. The ring was on his middle finger. “Nevertheless, I like them. I think they go with my eyes.”

“Aren’t you too old for a midlife crisis?”

“Never.”

Sixteen years ago:

In the forest of Corinthe we rode in darkness and in silence. No one spoke. We had miles to go and nobody had slept. Tired as we were, the end of our journey drew near. My men and I had ridden across the realm and encountered danger and death. Barbarians had attacked and we had lost three men. But now our quarry’s home city was days away.

We were the task force charged with the capture of Angrod Veneanar—pretender to the throne, were-dragon, and murderer. He had escaped me once. I promised myself he would not do so again.

Someone coughed. Someone muttered. No one likes a forced march, especially on the darkest night of the year. There was no moon and little starlight. All of us were using our elven Sight just to follow the narrow trail.

I looked around. The woods looked lonely in my enhanced vision. I saw snowflakes gently drifting. Feanaro sidled up. “What are you thinking, lieutenant?”

My Sight made his blue skin look like milk, his eyes like pools of tar. I controlled my breathing and adjusted my Sight. His skin turned transparent and his bones started glowing. That was a little better.

“I’m thinking I’d rather be alone,” I told the elven skeleton. I was used to this vision mode, but something was off. I hadn’t trust my second-in-command since he’d propositioned me. He had been the perfect gentleman ever since, but it still made me uneasy. “And shouldn’t you be on point?”

“There’s nothing ahead for miles,” he said. “The woods are lovely, are they not?”

I grunted. “They are remote. Not a single farmhouse for hours. You ask me, this would be the perfect place for an ambush…” I stopped and turned in the saddle. “Everyone, count off!”

The shouts went down the line. Eleven men plus myself made twelve. “Lyrion. Where’s Lyrion?”

“He was bringing up the rear!”

“Well, fetch him!” Feanaro said.

“Wait—” I said. Three men cantered off.

“Goddammit, Feanaro, they could be heading into a trap!”

“Don’t be ridiculous. They’ll be back in a few minutes.”

Five minutes passed.

Ten minutes.

“Dammit, dammit. Everyone, we’re turning around!”

BOOM

The explosion tore through our column, scattering men and pieces of men. Suddenly I was covered in blood. I lifted an arm and barely deflected an arrow. “Attaaack!” I screamed.

Our mages cast fireballs in all directions, saturating the area. Trees shattered. Snow turned to steam. The air thundered with sorcerous energies. We put spurs to our horses and went back the way we came. Unfortunately, the ambushers had closed the trap.

A pit opened up on the trail. We leaped over sharpened stakes.

“Aaaugh—ughk!”

Marcanon wasn’t so lucky. I hope he died quickly.

We tried to watch the ground but arrows kept coming and we were going too fast. Igwazhen didn’t see the wire until too late. It was at neck-height for a mounted man, and as a mage he wore no armour.

“Come on! Come on!” I said. “Airadan, where’s Feanaro? Airadan? Why are you slowing down?”

He looked at me. Blood spilled from the wound in his armpit. “Fen’s not… can’t trust…” He slumped onto his horse and slid out of the saddle. I reined in my mount to pick him up, but hooded figures burst from the trees. They carried long stakes that they butted into the ground so the points faced me. My horse reared. Cursing, I balanced in the saddle and fought for control. I saw one of the killers raise a hammer over Airadan.

“Meerwen, help!” Then his skull was crushed in its helmet.

Almost weeping, I turned and galloped down a side path. But they’d planned for that too. I leaped the pit, ducked the wire, and crashed into the fallen tree. I was thrown forward. I landed rolling. My horse—her front legs were broken. She screamed and thrashed. The woods were alive. I could hear taunting laughter. I didn’t have much time.

“I’m sorry.” I drew my knife and did what was necessary. Then I ran.

I wasn’t thinking clearly. The explosion, the deaths of my entire command. Also, it seemed that the Elendil Order was after me.

My father told me about them. They had always been enemies of the aristocracy. They had hunted dragons and rogue wizards when both were common. Father had told me not to worry, but never said why. I always figured we had been ennobled too recently to be targets. Seems I was wrong.

I was running downhill. I tripped on a rock and tumbled into fresh powder. My pursuers whooped. I kept sliding. I didn’t stop till I skidded onto a frozen lake.

I pushed myself up and panted, the fog from my breath blowing over my hands. There were shapes in the distance. They were transparent, but snow kept settling on their shoulders. The invisibility cloaks flickered. They were liquid water, after all, and this was winter.

The Elendil assassins dropped their cloaks, which fell off them as ice. They threw back their hoods to show their painted metal masks. They wore leather armour and tactical harnesses like I did, except they also carried swords. I got to my feet, or tried to. It was hard to move. I was getting dizzy. The assassins glided onto the ice and started dancing.

I stared. I distinctly heard one say, “Aaand one. Aaand two!” They shuffled toward me, moving to a silent beat. Their masks seemed to leer as they swung their hips and waved their arms. Their hands, I saw, held weapons. I tried to get up but it was hard to breathe. My head seemed too large for my neck. My armour felt too warm and tight.

They swept their blades high and then low. They pointed left and stepped to the right, pointed right and stepped to the left. They spun in place and lunged forward, then leaned back and looked to the sky. I could almost hear the music.

Several flourishes later they came to a stop in front of me. With an effort I tried to stand—and sank lower. The lead dancer took off his mask. It was Feanaro. But then his blue skin turned pale and his silver hair turned gold. His features turned hard and sharp.

“Greetings, fair noble. I’m Dinendal, and I’ll be your captor this evening.”

“What happened to my second-in-command?”

“You will find him in a shallow grave outside the town where you tried to leave me.” His face stayed the same, but his voice became that of a woman. “Remember me, Meerwen?”

“Grimalda. I knew it!”

She’d been a halfling woman we’d picked up. Claiming that Angrod had taken her son prisoner, she’d ridden with us a good part of the way. I had become suspicious. For a small-town girl she was too good at cross-country riding, and she’d joined in when we had to fight off the human bandits. She’d killed quite a few brigands.

“You suspected I was dangerous, but it never occurred to you that I might be a major threat.”

“How was I to know the Elendil Order would involve itself?”

“The first dragon and heir-apparent to be seen in centuries, together in one body? Of course we would be all over that!”

I panted. The air was too heavy and my lungs had shrunk. “Why kill my men?”

“I need you as bait. I was worried about going against your team, but they proved no great challenge. Did you like our victory dance?”

“Seems… premature.” With the greatest effort I hauled myself to my feet. I lifted my leaden arms and forced boneless hands into fists. “You… cornered me, not… captured me,” I slurred. “I’m… undefeated.”

“My dear, I defeated you ten minutes ago.”

I fell and he caught me. I tried to punch him but he lowered me to the ground and plucked the dart from my neck. There had been a sharp pain from the explosion—I had mistaken it for shrapnel. I tried to swallow but couldn’t. I was choking on my own spit. I looked up at Dinendal and wished I could tear his head off.

He laughed. “Rest easy, princess. Nothing you can do.”

CHAPTER 6: MEERWEN

“No!”

I sat up in bed, heart pounding. I was in my own bedroom, in my father’s house. The sun on the wall told me it was close to noon. I decided I’d had enough sleep.