Greenstone

by C E Johnson

  The captain of the elves saw the swords and yelled to his troops. “Watch out for the female vampire-witch. She has enchanted blades.”

  Maaca ignored the captain for the time being and engaged the first elf at the periphery of the fight. He had stumbled forward while attacking a were-creature, and she and her Black-blades rapidly cut him off, further isolating the unfortunate warrior. The were-creature that the elf was focused on exposed its fangs in a snarl. Its hackles were pointing to the sky like tiny swords, and it leapt forward in a mass of muscle and rage. The elf was dexterous, and he made quick work of the were-creature; it erupted in a cloud of death-smoke. Maaca signaled for two of her Black-blades to engage. The elf was fighting well initially, with deft feints and skillful parries, sweeping away the blades of her advancing warriors, but the sheer numbers against him were eventually going to be overwhelming.

  “It’s over for you,” she called to him, just loud enough to be heard.

  “Never!” He was defiant. Thrusting in a lightning maneuver, the elf impaled the nearest of her vampires. This was the proud vampire who had stood next to her before the battle began, the warrior who had been so confident of their victory. The vampire choked on his screams and disappeared in another rush of death-smoke, his warhorn clattering to the ground where his feet had once stood.

  “Elves will never succumb to half-dead scum,” the elf spat. But as he lurched valiantly toward another vampire to his right, Maaca darted toward him from the left. He grimaced and lost his footing as he tried to avoid her attack. Maaca didn’t falter, her sword connected with his helm and he reeled, barely retaining consciousness.

  “Wyvern poison is coursing through your veins.” Maaca spoke softly as she launched a furious attack, drawing blood with every thrust. The elf fell to one knee, dropping his weapon, too weak to even lift his arms. His rasping breath sounded like sharp steel scraping on stone and his skin was pale as new-fallen snow, slick with sweat. The Black-blades backed away awarding Maaca the final death-blow. She sheathed both of her swords and lifted the dazed face of the elf into her hands. Running the back of one hand along his forehead, she wiped away the sweat and blood, caressing him for a moment.

  “What’s the witch doing?” Captain Steele’s words were drenched with pure acid. His face was livid with anger and confusion, but he was engaged in a fight and couldn’t approach.

  Maaca looked into the eyes of the dying elf, feeling pity, knowing he was in agony. Blood poured from the multiple wounds, and she was certain the wyvern poison was causing simultaneous internal hemorrhage. He seemed to know Maaca was waiting for him. He leaned forward, whispering, “Take away the pain. I’m ready.” There was no anger in his voice, only a profound acceptance of what was to come. He exposed his neck for her.

  Maaca gave him a small kiss on the forehead before biting firmly into his neck with her sharpened teeth. Her canines punctured through skin and musculature, entering into his carotid artery, letting his magus fully explode into her mouth. Sweet, like sugar. She and many of the Black-blades in close proximity fell to their knees screaming in brief ecstasy. Maaca took the greatest amount of his essence, filing away the elf’s knowledge and memories. She would assimilate his wisdom of countless years at another time, but instantly she filtered through his surface thoughts, assessing his elven teams’ battle techniques, including the strengths and weaknesses of each remaining elf in the hunting team.

  Maaca stood. Even without the full assimilation, she felt different. The trees, the battlefield, death; everything was altering. I’m changing, she thought to herself, I’m becoming more like an elf, more one with nature. She stared at the remaining elves and unanticipatedly felt a growing sense of sympathy for their plight. There was budding empathy growing in the depths of her half-dead soul. She knew she had to follow the directives of her creator, but with every elf she killed, she was becoming a new being.

  Maaca glanced at her Black-blades. Fire flared brightly in their eyes. They appeared more alive than before after sucking their portion of the elf’s magus. They wanted more.

  “Where did you come from, demon-spawn?” Captain Steele began to spew forth a long list of curses at her.

  “Be careful of what you say to me,” she warned the captain. However, instead of feeling overcome with anger, elements of compassion continued to run in a rush through her brain. The sentiment confused her, and she swayed as the new emotions attempted to reconcile. “Soon a portion of your elven existence will be living in my mind. Don’t be afraid.” She cleaned her swords on the dead elf’s green cloak. “All of you will be with me wherever I go.” She and her group of Black-blades advanced toward the next elf at the farthest edge of the battle. Steele would be the last to go.

  C H A P T E R 2 1

  Captivity

  Hadrian and Dysis gazed through the narrow spaces between the bars in the depths of their cell on the Island of Bashan, not that there was much to see in the dungeon. The cold, hard, gray metal cast a colorful aura, fed by the magic of scores of magicians who rotated through on a steady, hourly basis, one of the only bursts of color in their drab surroundings. Samil’s magicians would feed a portion of their magic into the magus-cage while observing the two prisoners for any signs of escape attempts. The shield drank the magic like a thirsty beast, charging with an impressive level of energy that Hadrian’s magic couldn’t overcome, leaving him little hope of escape and preventing any attempts at a dream-link without Samil’s permission.

  Hadrian and Dysis had only been recently captured. They had spent the majority of their year on Acacia traveling, learning about Samil’s involvement in the events since Emily had left. “We need to continue to examine Samil’s forces” Hadrian put an arm around Dysis’ shoulders, hoping to warm her in their cold, dank world. Her spirits were good, but he wasn’t sure how long she would endure in captivity. He was using all his magical gifts to read their guards, attempting to find those most sympathetic to their cause, and engaging them in conversation.

  “I guess I should update my commander on my impressions.” Dysis gave Hadrian a weary wink. She pursed her soft rosebud lips. He knew she was trying to keep her mind active. She glanced at the magician near their position, infusing power into the shield, and began to speak in a low, hushed tone. “Samil’s continuing to grow his army of Mavet raa with the help of these magicians that are pledged to his cause.” She nodded toward the laboring magician whose pale face was covered with a thin sheen of sweat.

  “Our guards are very hard workers.” Hadrian spoke just loud enough so their sentry could hear him. “But they’re very poor in judging the character of their leader.”

  “Shut your mouth,” their guard grumbled. A rat bondsmate was perched on his shoulder, with soft black fur and wise dark eyes.

  Dysis snuggled her head near to Hadrian’s neck. She continued quietly, speaking directly into Hadrian’s ear, “The Mavet raa require small amounts of fresh meat to increase their energy, and therefore Samil needs supplies for his growing army which is housed both on Bashan and on the mainland. Consequently, food is his main limitation. Soldiers are constantly hunting through the forests and they are also pillaging the farms of Acaceans, causing many citizens to become disgruntled with him.”

  Hadrian stroked his chin. “I’m sure the irritated populace might flock to challenge Samil if they believe he could be defeated.”

  Dysis arched an eyebrow, appearing doubtful amidst her contemplation. “The fear he’s stimulating is fairly paralyzing. He imprisons any Acacean that offers him a challenge.”

  Hadrian sighed. “And the half-deads he creates only add to his campaign of horror as he sends out teams of these creatures to accomplish his missions.”

  “Didn’t we learn in college that no man should lead with fear as his main form of governance.” As she spoke, Hadrian could hear an edge to her voice, and he knew he needed to get her out of captivity soon.

  Dysis leaned further into Hadrian. Even though they were locked in a cage, she
somehow still managed to smell like jasmine. Hadrian was impressed by her talents. He gestured to the walls of their cage. “Magicians that refuse to offer Samil their dragon-oath are placed in pens, eventually fueling his half-dead battalions in a vicious cycle.”

  “I wish we had found the truth behind Blackbarb. Dysis stared at her hands. “We still don’t know exactly what Samil plans with his Earth project.” She balled her hands into fists. “We’re only learning fragments of his agenda and nothing more of the most clandestine of his operations.” Dysis kissed the crook of Hadrian’s arm, pressing her body against him for extra warmth. “We know he’s involved with the construction of a powerful weapon, but what is his grand design, and who is his ultimate target?”

  Hadrian liked the feel of Dysis against his chest and he was thankful they were imprisoned together. “Shall we wage our own war to keep our blood moving?” Besides staying mentally sharp by testing theories and attempting to decipher the clues in Samil’s wake, they were testing each other physically, using mock swords they had constructed out of items in their chamber. When other magicians were present, they concealed their heightened skills, but when they were alone, the gloves were off. The two stood and began stretching in preparation.

  Duke glared toward the magician who had finished charging the shield, and gave a low menacing growl. The mage-light reflected eerily in the Boxer’s eyes. “Keep your bondsmate in line,” the guard warned before stomping away toward the steps that ascended out of the dungeon, his rat swaying on his shoulder as he moved.

  Hadrian and Dysis finished their warmup and stood in the center of their pen. Hadrian attacked first, throwing a flurry of heightened punches, and they fought evenly for ten to fifteen minutes. As Hadrian tired, he attempted a low kick to trip Dysis, but she blocked him and launched a flying kick at his head. Hadrian dodged backwards, but she was too skilled, connecting with a glancing blow to his shoulder. Wincing in pain at the shock from the impact, Hadrian shook his head in amazement. “You usually win our battles on Earth, but I thought I’d be able to beat you on my home turf.” He sat down panting. “Even on Acacia, you’re talented.”

  “When do you think the war will start?” Dysis sat next to him and began to massage his aching shoulder.

  “Soon I would think. Perhaps in the next several months. The guards believe Samil plans a final land battle to sweep across the last remnants of Acacean resistance.”

  “What about Emily?” Dysis paused in her massage. “Do you think she’ll understand your message?”

  Hadrian gave her a small kiss on her cheek. “I don’t know. It was a chance I had to take.” Duke went to the water basin, drank, and then padded toward Hadrian. Muzzle dripping, he lay his great head on Hadrian’s leg. “I’m sure the reappearance of Emily is gnawing at Samil like an ulcer. Now that he knows she’s back on Acacia, he’ll probably unleash many resources to track her down. We must keep using our heightened hearing to listen to as many conversations as possible to learn about his plans in case we can help her at some point.”

  “Well, we’re really getting some nice togetherness time.” Dysis let her fingers trail lightly along his cheek.

  Hadrian smiled and gently pushed several strands of Dysis’ hair behind her ear. “All part of my master plan … this is my ultimate test for my girlfriends. If you can survive an imprisonment with me, maybe we should talk about a future together.”

  Dysis laughed. “I must say this is an interesting way to date.” She moved to face Hadrian, leaning in for a kiss. Her lips were silky soft. “How do you think I’m doing?”

  “So far so good,” Hadrian teased back. “I think I’ll test you a little longer in this cell, but at some point, we’re going to have to leave these luxury accommodations.”

  C H A P T E R 2 2

  Horses

  Horses and riders, Ammolite warned.

  Emily was amazed that Ammolite’s eyesight and hearing were so exceptional, even better than hers with the full heightening applied. They flew warily toward the riders and Emily waited until she could also view the group in the distance. Once she caught sight of an unmistakable blue aura-signature, she knew her friend Cameron was leading the squad. He rode on his stallion, Nox, looking like he was born in the saddle. Not only was he at ease, but he appeared fused with his horse, his mane of white hair streaming behind him.

  Should we practice our stealth-approach? Ammolite stretched her wings, gliding on the currents.

  Oh, yes, let’s show them a little of your magic. Emily was in awe of her bondsmate’s skills.

  Ammolite began to move her wings more rapidly, darting through the pale gray sky toward the horses. While in flight, she used her camouflage to allow herself and Emily to blend with the sky and clouds. The wind whispered over their bodies as they descended towards the warriors. In the midst of their descent, Emily gave Cameron a dream-link message. Coming in fast, tell your group not to attack.

  Emily could see Cameron’s confused expression as he swiftly scanned around his position, calling out, “A friend is approaching. Don’t draw your weapons or attack.” Touching down in an adjacent clearing, Ammolite shook the ground with the strength of her landing. She ended her camouflage just as she made contact with Acacean soil. Horses reared and rushed around the clearing while the men of the horse-clan gaped in amazement at Ammolite. Cameron’s chosen warriors were tall men with broad shoulders, strong arms, and long dark hair. Xena emerged from her leather cave and bounded forward to dance excitedly around Nox and Cameron.

  “Cameron!” Emily called to her friend while dismounting from her dragon with smooth dexterity and running into his arms. He held her tightly before letting go.

  “Impressive as always,” Cameron murmured softly. He wore gray chainmail, rough-spun pants, and worn brown boots under a black cloak. A longsword hung from a leather belt. His eyes had the same twinkle, but up close she could more fully assess the ravages of time on his body. His hair was now completely white, and age spots were scattered on his face. Even Nox, his horse, was streaked with patches of gray. “Who’s your new bondsmate?” He put his calloused hands on his hips and studied Ammolite.

  “This is Ammolite, daughter of Tiamat.” Emily gestured toward her dragon. Ammolite inclined her head, her eyes of liquid gold unblinking as they regarded the horse-clan warriors.

  Cameron bowed low, “I’m honored, your grace.” He then switched his gaze back to Emily. “Your youthful appearance does change aspects of my childhood crush.” He appeared thoughtful. “Maybe I can shape-change to my younger form for a few hours and ask you on a date.” He shook his head in mock disgust. “My adolescent dreams are having a tough time with this new reality.”

  Emily laughed, and hugged Cameron once again. This time she held to him with her eyes closed, remembering the way it had been between them before she left Acacia when he had tried to kiss her. His hand sought her hand and their fingers interlaced. She felt a faint tremble in his touch.

  He still has feelings for you, Xena whispered.

  Time cannot change certain forms of affection, Ammolite added.

  Emily felt flattered by the attention, but she had never truly had romantic feelings toward Cameron when they were young. “Time doesn’t progress the same in different areas of this universe, and my lands are quite far away.”

  “I can see that.” He kissed her hand.

  Emily stepped away and Cameron slowly released her hand. She reached out to Nox and stroked the horse’s neck while studying the other horses. I see traces of my old horse, Bronte, in his herd. “These are beautiful horses, Cameron.”

  “The best horses on this world.” There was a warmth in Cameron’s tone as he spoke of the great creatures. He ran his hand along the withers of a riderless beautiful black stallion.

  “You have six extra horses.” Emily gave Cameron a wry grin. “How did you know that I would need six horses?”

  “Your friends decided to stay?” Cameron gave her a measured look while flashing a smu
g smile. “I thought they would. In my opinion, there are very few friends of Emily Dalton who would leave her in her time of need.”

  Emily laughed, enjoying his compliments. “You’re right. They decided to stay and protect me.” Then she added with a teasing grin, “You know how helpless I am.” She darted to Ammolite using slightly heightened motions. Xena flashed like a black arrow to her leather cave. Ammolite took several steps before launching into the air with a graceful bound. “Meet me at the cave tomorrow morning,” she called over her shoulder.

  “Impressive,” Emily could hear Cameron’s final word dancing on the wind upon her departure. She smiled with pride.

  C H A P T E R 2 3

  Gifts

  The sun rose slowly from beneath the great mountain-tops, like a great spear-tip of shimmering steel emerging from the ground. The fiery star sent tendrils of heat through the pearly mist in warm rays. Trees were illuminated by the shafts of light, and they poked through the white haze, looking like islands of green floating in a pale cloudy sea. Emily stood in the dancing grass in the early morning dawn with Ammolite, Dr. D, and her Earth friends as they began performing their tai chi exercises. Xena and Dax were playing together in the grass.

  They approach, Ammolite informed Emily, sensing Cameron and his horse-clan warriors leading their mounts up a winding path that she had unblocked, just below her grassy plateau.