Authors: Patrick Weekes
“Why are you here?” the ogre called up.
“I have been put in charge of you,” the noble called down, holding up a small crystal wand. It flared with sudden blue light, and the ogre, the bony woman, and the thing in the cloak all started, then nodded as though they had heard something Hendris had not.
“Understood,” said the bony woman. “We engaged ancillary targets last night, but they triggered the collapse and escaped.”
“Well done,” the noble called down, shaking his head. “I see I have my work cut out for me. Come on, then. Let me land this thing, and we’ll get you out of here and cleaned up.”
The bony woman gestured at the rockslide. “The trail—”
“Forget the trail,” the noble said, waving it away. “The trail tells you where they’ll be going, and you’ll spend the next several weeks chasing that broken-down airship they fled in. Maybe that lets you
feel
like you’re cleansing the sins of your evil blood, but, personally, I’d prefer you actually
accomplish
something.”
“You know where they go?” the ogre asked.
“Sometimes the estate gets rabbits,” the noble called back. “Damnable creatures, get into the food, and everyone hates to kill them because they look so cute. You chase them, you’ll be running all day. But eventually, they go to ground in their little burrow.” He smiled. “And then, all you have to do is start a fire where they live and let the smoke drive them to you.”
The noble looked at Hendris.
Hendris knew he’d heard too much. Nobody in fancy clothes said those kinds of things in front of anyone they didn’t know and planned to keep. “Sir,” he called up, “please, sir, I know these tunnels better than anyone. I’m a good miner.”
The noble pursed his lips. “What’s your name, son?”
Hendris was the same age as the noble, but he swallowed it and said, “Hendris, my lord.”
“Well, Hendris,” said the noble, nodding gravely, “the thing is, I don’t really
need
a good miner.”
He gestured, and the last thing Hendris felt was hot pain slashing across his throat.
Loch and the team spent the next several days recuperating on a small but very well-furnished treeship en route to the Elflands.
The last time Loch had been on a treeship, it had been a massive pleasure yacht, and she had bluffed her way aboard to steal an elven manuscript and stop a war. She’d failed to get the manuscript, succeeded in stopping the war, and had very little time to poke around the vessel itself.
This treeship was pretty, lean, and young, flush with bright-green leaves that caught the sunlight and pulled the craft through the air. Beams were grown, twining about one another rather than hammered into place, and the air near the leaf-sails smelled like freshly cut grass. The doors were wide slats of bark hinging on green stems in the wall, and the beds were lined with soft spongy moss that was warm to the touch. It was strange and elven and also much cleaner than an airship, and if you didn’t mind the smell of bark when you were using the bathroom, there wasn’t much to complain about.
She was leaning on the railing, watching the ground ease past far below, when Captain Thelenea stopped beside her.
“At least this time,” the captain said, “you boarded legally.” The elven woman’s olive-green skin was lined with age and care, and the crystals in her cheeks glittered like diamonds. Still, she was smiling.
“Glad to see you too, Captain.” Loch smiled without looking over. “You’ve changed ships.”
“The Dragon suggested that I might benefit from a ship that dealt with more important matters than pleasure cruises.” Thelenea settled at the railing.
“A promotion, then?”
“I was quite happy sailing around on pleasure cruises,” Thelenea said dryly, “but yes.”
“You were retired,” Loch guessed. “And I knocked you back into active service. My apologies.”
“Life knocked me back into active service. This is different enough from the trolls and dark fey I still remember on the darkest nights.”
Loch shook her head, and at Thelenea’s raised eyebrow, said, “My people are so busy fighting Imperials—and each other—that we forget that there’s a whole other world we know nothing about.”
“The Dragon helps keep us safe,” Thelenea said, “and you have returned his love, who was stolen from my ship. He and I are both in your debt.”
Loch grinned. “If you are willing to forgive me stealing aboard your last ship and my associates knocking a hole in the side of it, I will happily call any debt settled.”
Thelenea nodded, then turned as Kail approached. “We should be at the Dragon’s estate within the hour. If you will pardon me, I have docking preparations to make.”
“Morning, Captain,” Kail said to her as she passed, and then to Loch, “Captain.”
“How’s Desidora today?”
“Her aura isn’t turning all the plants into giant versions of those carnivorous things that eat flies anymore.” Kail smiled, then lowered his voice slightly. “Still pissed about Ghylspwr. Thinking she could’ve killed him if she’d done something different. The usual.”
“Fair. Dairy?”
“Moving great, considering he was briefly deceased. Diz and Hessler are still doing tests, but he seems the same as always. Nice, friendly, superstrong, immune to magic.”
Loch nodded. “We’ve still got that, at least. Ululenia?”
“Man, who even knows with Ululenia?” Kail shook his head. “And stop. We got Dairy out of there.”
“Didn’t stop the return of the ancients.”
“Which I was right about being magic weapons instead of people, by the way, if you’re going to beat yourself up for everything you’ve ever gotten wrong.”
Loch smiled. “Treasure the little victories, Kail.”
Kail drew a dagger from his belt and ran it nimbly through his fingers. “We went in next to blind, and we didn’t just get Dairy out of there. We got information that tells us what the ancients are and how to stop them.”
“And the enemy knows that we’ve been there,” Loch said, “which means that getting inside
again
is going to be even harder.”
“I’ve been holding Desidora for most of the day,” Kail said. “It’s apparently something we do now. Let me know if you need a hug.”
“I’m good, thanks.” Loch grinned.
“You’ll figure something out.” Kail balanced the dagger lengthwise across a finger, then flicked it into the air and caught it. “You usually do. We’ll get rid of the ancients, and you can go be a justicar with Pyvic or a baroness at Lochenville, or whatever it is you want to do.”
Loch looked away and laughed to herself. “I was a terrible justicar. I’d likely be a terrible baroness.”
“Good dodge on saying what you want to do, Captain.”
“If we can take out that golden hoop Desidora talked about, that should break the gateway,” Loch said, and looked over at Kail. “What do you think it is?”
“Me?”
“Hey, you were right about the ancients being magical weapons. Who am I to doubt your statistically inevitable blind luck?”
Kail grinned and tucked the dagger and the uncomfortable topics away. “Maybe Mister Dragon has something in that library Dairy talked about.”
The treeship slowed not long after, and Loch saw a fantastic palace—an estate of white marble and flowing pools and fountains that shone through the thick foliage of the Elflands like a diamond hidden in the grass. At first she thought the estate contained multiple buildings, as she saw golden spires rising up and glittering in the pale morning light. Then her eyes adjusted to the scope, and she realized how massive the spires actually were, even higher than the forest around them, with gigantic reinforced beams on their sides like the cross guards of swords. An even half-dozen spires soared over the rest of the palace, leaving a long, rolling field open, and Loch smiled as she finally figured out what the spires were.
Mister Dragon had built his estate with different places to land.
Squinting now, she saw little fairy creatures flying below, landing atop the palace walls and shimmering into human—or more likely elven—shapes. It was the same busy hum of activity Loch would have expected at any noble’s palace. Far below on the ground, an elf on a ladder poked at a great hanging pod that was hung like a glowlamp, while somewhere ahead wagons pulled by large horses carried dark soil toward an airfield where treeships dug in roots to regain their strength.
The treeship slowed and descended, and Loch headed for the gangplank.
Irrethelathlialann was already there. “I will go first. It’s possible he has guests, and they might not react well to strangers bearing crystal artifacts.”
Loch nodded, and when the treeship touched down, the elf vaulted over the railing before the gangplank even extended.
I had forgotten the beauty of the Elflands,
came a voice in Loch’s head, and she turned to see Ululenia coming out to stand by the gangplank as well. She was in her natural form, a horse with a horn that blazed with beautiful rainbow radiance. She was snowy white, save for the black marks at her flanks.
I could stay here, I think, and be happy
.
Perhaps the Dragon has a virgin on staff.
“I will make sure to ask,” Loch said.
He is
. . . Ululenia paused.
I should stay on the ship.
“Why?”
You are worried, all of you. I understand, and your fears are not groundless. As dark fey, I am different from what I was. I am still me, but
. . .
“I’ve known you since I was a child,” Loch said flatly. “You don’t have to tell me that you’re different.”
I’m sorry, Little One. I killed the chimera. That was my second taste of the blood of our people. Each time, it becomes harder to remember who I am. Each time, it makes me want more.
“Will it get better?” Loch asked.
In time. For now, as I said, perhaps I should wait on the ship.
Loch sighed. “Whatever you think best. Is there any way to—”
“Isafesira!” came the cry from the ground, and Loch looked over the railing to see Irrethelathlialann coming back to the ship. He was running with easy grace, and his rapier was drawn. “I need the unicorn and the priestess down here, now.”
“Dangerously close to giving orders,” Kail said as he came to the railing as well, “which I was given to understand elves don’t do.”
“Kail, get Desidora. Ululenia, we may have to rely upon your good memory of who we are.” She turned back to the railing. “What happened?”
“What happened,” Irrethelathlialann called up grimly, “is the Dragon is dead.”
Ten
A
S CRIME SCENES
go,” Desidora said while looking at the study from the hall, “I have more experience creating them than investigating.”
“Yes.” Ululenia was in human form, and her horn shone as a steady beacon. “I am no hunter, unless virgins are involved.”
“Well, let’s start with what we know,” Kail said, and stepped into the room. It was enormous and well lit with glass lamps that hung from the ceiling, and it was lined from floor to ceiling with bookshelves. Most were indeed filled with books, while a few had space taken up by small statues, old bones, and pieces of jewelry. There were several tables, a large stuffed couch, and a fireplace, with a drink tray next to the couch.
One chair lay on its side. The ground nearby was scorched.
Ululenia stepped into the room as well, wincing and shaking her head as she did. “What’s the magic look like?” Kail called to Desidora while walking slowly around the scorch mark.
The study was small enough for Desidora to get a decent look without stepping inside it herself, and some presence at the edge of the room pressed against her, urging her to stay outside. Desidora let the death aura take her, and the carpet shifted from a lovely burgundy-and-gold pattern into black and cold silver. At once, she felt a pressure across her brow, and she stumbled, then righted herself. “Wards. Strong ones.” She pulled the death inside her, keeping it there but contained, and the pressure lifted. “Very little magic, save that innate to fairy creatures, would function in this room. Some of the items in the room are magic as well. The wards keep them under control.”