by Steve McHugh
He shrugged. “Don’t know much else. I know my family have always been slaves to them. My father, his father, his father’s father . . . all of them. The elves need us. They don’t like to kill too many of us; we taste like those crystals, so they say. We’re as immune to magic as they are. Occasionally one of us is picked to work with the elves, either as an escort like me, or serving them. Mostly, the humans build, clean, and cultivate those crystals into something workable. The elves don’t like doing it. Kill me, don’t kill me, it doesn’t matter. If you don’t, the elves will for making a mistake. You need me, though. You can’t get under the archway without me.”
“Um . . . what?” Kasey asked.
I searched the memories of the blood elf. “There’s an archway about two miles to the north of here. We need to go through it, but it’s guarded by a cave troll. It’s blind, but it’ll let certain people through: elves, slaves, and the like. I don’t really know how it works; the elf certainly didn’t, nor did he care, but it’s the only way past the troll. The blood elves take prisoners that way, and the humans are left alone by the trolls so long as they’re with the elves.”
I punched William in the jaw so hard it lifted him from his feet and dumped him on the cold ground. He was unconscious, but hopefully not too injured.
“Why aren’t we killing him?” Mordred asked.
“I know where the dwarves are,” I told him. “I have a partial map of this place in my head. I know we have to get through elven territory to get there, and we have to go under that arch. It’s the quickest way from here to the elves. Everything else takes days. There are tens of thousands of elves between us and the dwarves. Find something to gag him with and tie his hands, because he’s going to help us whether he wants to or not.”
“And how is he going to help us stop the troll?” Mordred asked, sounding unconvinced.
I raised one of the sleeves on William’s arm, showing the scarred tissue where someone had carved a rune into his bicep. “His flesh has been marked with a rune. It’s a slave mark, like a cattle brand. It allowed him to walk around without being constantly attacked by elves who come across him, and it tells others who owns him. Besides, no matter how helpful the elf’s memory is, I’m going to guess that William knows all of the little shortcuts and ways to get around without being spotted. We might need him to get around the patrols and past the citadel.”
“The citadel?” Mordred asked. “Are you insane?”
“It’s the fastest way, and the longer we’re out here, the more chance we have of being caught by a patrol.”
“What’s the citadel?” Kasey asked.
“The place of absolute power in this city,” Mordred said. “It used to be the dwarven palace where the kings, queens, princes, and anyone with an ounce of importance lived. When these monsters took over, anyone left inside was killed. It’s probably the most dangerous place in this entire realm.”
“We’re not going in,” I assured them both. “We’re taking a detour around it. About half a mile away from it is a small collection of buildings; they’re abandoned, according to the memories in my brain. Dwarves used to regularly go there to hunt elves, and they used to set traps and ambushes, so the elves stopped sending patrols.”
“Why wouldn’t the elves just swamp the place and crush all opposition?” Kasey asked.
“The dwarves know this place better than anything else here, even after a thousand years, and they can make new tunnels in minutes or hours, where it would take the elves weeks, if not longer.
“Besides, capturing a dwarf isn’t easy. They’re trained to go down swinging. They literally won’t stop until you or they are incapable of fighting. Five elves will bring down a dwarf, but you’d better believe that those five elves are going to have their work cut out for them. And elves are in finite supply; they can’t just make more.”
“They’re sterile?”
I searched the memories again. “It looks that way, yes. There are untold numbers of them, but if the dwarves chip away a few every time they fight, that’s only helping the dwarves.”
“Anything else?” Mordred asked.
“The part of the city we’re going to has streets that aren’t wide enough for more than two at a time. The dwarves, or elves, would be destroyed before they could even get halfway through it, but the roads are windy and there are a lot of places to hide. They’ve essentially left it as a no man’s land because neither side could take it easily.”
“You want us to run into a dwarven ambush?” Mordred asked.
“Not quite. I’m hoping they’ll see we’re not elves, or insane, and let us talk.”
“And if they don’t?” Kasey asked as she used some rope she’d found on the dead blood elf to tie up William, gagging him with part of the blood elf’s clothing.
“Then we’ll have two groups who want to kill us. But let’s try to stay positive and just have the elves who want our heads on spikes.”
“Can we not draw the rune on ourselves?” Kasey asked.
“I don’t know how it works,” I explained. “You need to know the way in which the rune is drawn before you can use it. If you get it wrong, it might create an incredibly permanent solution to our problems. Besides, I don’t know if it needs to be carved into flesh, or just drawn on.”
“Let me guess: we get that wrong and it’s bad too,” Kasey said, rolling her eyes.
“The dwarven runes are complicated,” I explained. “Put one on the wrong way, or on the wrong species, and all of a sudden it has a completely different effect to what you wanted. And that’s not including the original, much more powerful runes, which this isn’t one of. Basically dwarven runes give me a headache, and I’d rather not take the risk of messing about with them.”
Mordred hoisted a semiconscious William to his feet. “Fine, but the second he betrays us and we no longer need him, I slit his throat.”
I stared at Mordred for a few seconds, but could think of no reason to argue against his statement. “Did you hear that, William?”
He tried to speak, realized his mouth was gagged with some of the bandages from the dead elf, and nodded slowly instead.
“Excellent,” Kasey said. “Mordred and Nate, you’re going to have to work together here. No little jabs, no biting comments; let’s just get through this. Agreed?”
Mordred and I told her we agreed, and he pushed William forward, with Kasey taking point, and me following behind. I watched Mordred as he shoved William ahead.
Since Mordred arrived to save me from the collapsing building, I hadn’t wanted to see that there was something different about him. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but over time there had been a growing certainty that the Mordred by my side was not the same person I’d been trying to kill for over a thousand years. Unfortunately, I couldn’t decide if that made him even more dangerous.
CHAPTER 17
I’m really not loving this,” Kasey whispered.
The four of us were crouched behind a low stone wall, directly above a blood-elf patrol who had paused to eat and drink their provisions. I’d hoped they’d move on after a few minutes, but they seemed to be taking forever. I wished I had the sun or moon to tell me the time.
Occasionally I looked up. Far above me, maybe even miles away, I could see a small twinkle. For a split-second, I thought that somehow the stars had found a way through. But I knew it could only be a light from a presumably massive crystal or jewel. There were probably millions of precious stones just a few miles above my head.
“Nate?” Mordred whispered. “I’m feeling less than thrilled about being this close to these monsters. And our gagged friend is getting anxious.”
I looked over at William, who was rubbing his feet in circles in the loose dirt. His face was sweaty, and he kept twitching and looking around as if expecting something to grab him at any moment.
I motioned for Kasey—pushing William ahead of her—and Mordred to follow me to a nearby building. William went in first and sat in the far
corner, his eyes closed and his head against the wall.
“We need to get out of here and find out what they gave to him,” I said, no longer needing to whisper.
“How do we get the elves out of the way?” Kasey asked.
“I know what they gave him,” Mordred said a second later. “They give their prisoners elven blood to drink. They do something to it before it’s mixed into the food. Makes you stronger, faster, heal quicker, and also more susceptible to their torture, to wanting to help them, to wanting to hurt people. It’s addictive, too. The more they give you, the more you want it, the easier it is for them to control you. A never-ending cycle.”
“He’s going through withdrawal?” Kasey asked.
Mordred nodded.
“What happens when you come off it?” It was my turn to ask questions.
“You’ll want to kill elves to get it. You’ll be pretty desperate.”
“They gave it to you.” I said, astounded by the knowledge of just how much Mordred had gone through during his time in blood elf hands. “How’d you get yourself off it?”
Mordred looked over at William. “I forced myself off it. Took two months before I was completely clean. And another three years before the cravings went away.”
“Three years?” Kasey asked.
“I was here for a long time, even after my escape from their dungeons,” was Mordred’s only answer. “He’s going to start gaining their attention soon. I’m hoping that archway is close by.”
I searched the memories of the blood elf. “It’s not far. Once past there, we’ll release William, or tie him up somewhere.”
“When he goes back to his masters, they will kill his parents,” Kasey pointed out.
“They were killed the second he was chosen,” I told her. “They’re just used as a threat to keep their slaves in line, but they’ve been dead a long time. The elf who was with him was his handler of sorts. It was his duty to train him, and kill all of those who would have been a link to his past. He has no one.”
William made a muffled noise and Mordred removed his gag after a warning to be quiet. I hadn’t seen him retrieve the elven dagger, but while I was loath to allow Mordred anything more than a letter opener, he didn’t have anything but his magic to rely on, and that was pretty much useless. He placed the dagger’s blade against the man’s neck, just to emphasize his point.
“It smells the blood,” William chuckled to himself, making my skin crawl. “The troll smells elf blood. And it’s not as strong inside of me as it should be. The smell of elven blood seems to subdue the troll. I really don’t know the ins and outs of it; it’s not really my problem. Your problem is getting me some elven blood.” He smiled, showing his blackened teeth. “I’ll get you past the troll, then I’m gone. I heard what you said about my parents. Those elves lied to me.”
“I get the feeling they do that a lot,” I told him. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
“I don’t know anything else. Why should I be sorry for my life?” He laughed slightly. “No one in your realm even knows we exist. I only hope that one day, the elves finally figure out how to use those tablets and flood the earth realm with death.”
“I think you’ll find that the earth realm is a little harder to take than you think,” Kasey said.
“Do you just drink the blood?” Mordred asked, taking the conversation back to more immediate matters.
William nodded.
“Nate and I will find you some.”
“I’ll wait right here. If you like, have the wolf-girl look after me.”
“I will tear your head clean off your shoulders,” Kasey said. “No exaggeration.”
William’s smile faltered, but his gaze didn’t leave Kasey.
“If he tries anything, kill him,” I said. “We’ll get past the troll.”
“Not without making a lot of noise and attracting a lot of attention you won’t,” William told us.
“Fine. If he tries anything, break all the bones in his arms. He doesn’t need those.”
William’s glare at me was one of pure, unadulterated hatred, and I suppressed the need to smile back at him.
Mordred took a step back from William and stared at me, before looking back at our captive. “We will get you your blood, but if you do anything to misplace our trust in you being here, or annoy Kasey in any way, I will personally feed you to that troll.”
William laughed, so Mordred bounced his head off the wall. “Nate and Kasey are good people—or at least that’s what others tell me. Ask Kasey if she’s heard tales of my deeds. Ask her if I’m a good person.”
William touched a small cut on his forehead.
“Mordred, enough,” I said. “Let’s get him the blood he needs.”
Mordred dragged William over to a nearby metal bar at the foot of a staircase and tied him to it. “Do. Not. Move.”
We left a few seconds later, keeping low and moving as quickly as we dared, until we reached the wall we’d been crouched behind earlier and peered through the broken stonework at three elves below.
“They appear to have disbanded,” Mordred said.
“Where are the others?” I looked around the rest of the ruins that had once been a residential area. Many of the buildings had long since been destroyed, although many more of the structures remained sound, and would be so for thousands of years. Dwarves didn’t build things that fell down easily.
“There,” Mordred said, pointing in front of him.
I stared through a crack in the wall and saw a small band of elves making their way toward one of the tunnels built into the rock. They were easy to spot, even from a distance.
“As soon as they go into that tunnel, we’ll attack the ones below,” Mordred said.
I nodded. We’d have to be fast. “No, wait,” I said, placing a hand on Mordred’s arm.
“Why?” Mordred asked through clenched teeth.
It was my turn to point.
Mordred looked through the crack in the wall at a creature the height of a single-decker bus, probably weighing as much as a car. Its gray-and-purple skin was covered in brightly shining armor, and the sword that hung from his back looked like something out of one of the fantasy Japanese video games that Kasey played. It didn’t even look possible to pick up, let alone swing with any degree of accuracy or speed.
“What in the name of shit is that?” Mordred asked, turning slowly to me. “I didn’t see any of those when I was last here.”
“One big elf,” I said.
“It’s a mountain more than an elf. He looks like a boss fight.”
I sighed. The weird tangent thing was going to drive me nuts.
The elves below us all stood to attention, looking more alert and just a tiny bit terrified as their new comrade joined them.
As the mountainous elf got closer, I saw that the armor was dwarven in design, with several marks that looked like finger-drawn lines of blood. Dozens of scars ran down each huge arm, and he had hair—dark and long—dropping over his shoulders. He was not something I wanted to fight, even with all of my magic working at full-power.
“What are they saying?” Mordred asked after listening to the group of elves talk for a few minutes. “I know you took that soul. I know you can understand them.”
“Then let me listen.”
Mordred shut up, and I paid attention to the conversation below.
“Where are those who fell into the water?” The giant elf asked.
“We were not given the search as an order, commander,” one of the elves said. “We were to secure this position and await further instructions.”
“On whose orders?”
“A high priest’s, commander,” a second elf told him.
“We were meant to subdue and capture all seven of the interlopers for questioning. Our failure in this will not shine a good light on us. Three of them went into the water, the rest escaped into the mountain. We have not found any of them. Do you think this is good enough?”
“Fo
rgive us, commander. Mythanus and two hundred elves were meant to bring the captured to the citadel. The interlopers were sent too far away from the city; it took them too long to get here. Mythanus had to disband the blood elves with him. They were anxious to feast. He didn’t want to start fights between groups.”
“Mythanus is dead,” the huge elf said. “Slain by one of those we seek. I will talk to your commander, and have you all placed somewhere more helpful. I think you have rested long enough.”
“Yes, commander,” the elves said in unison. “Thank you, commander.”
“One last thing,” the commander said just as he was about to turn away. “We have been informed that one of the sorcerers is Mordred. He is mine to kill, and mine alone. His escape from this place brought great displeasure to the Exalted One and I’ve waited a very long time to show Mordred the error of his ways.”
“He killed many in his escape,” one of the elves said. It quickly realized it was the wrong thing when a huge hand wrapped around his throat and lifted him up to the commander’s eye level, the elf struggling the whole time.
“He murdered a high priest. That is a stain our kind has never scrubbed free. Not even the dwarves have managed such an affront.”
I could tell that the commander was squeezing hard, and the elf began to stop struggling, but after another second, the commander released his grip and allowed the elf to fall to the ground.
“Do not make me return here. Find these escaped prisoners. Do it now.”
“Commander,” one of the elves asked, while his comrade was helped back to his feet. “Is it true that the wrong people were sent here?”
The commander didn’t look angry at the question, but he didn’t exactly look thrilled, either. “Our allies sent them. We have no control over their inept actions. We all serve the same masters. They will be punished for their mistake. The high priests are happy that we have the children of our enemies. That we have Mordred here in this realm. There is another though: Hellequin.”
The elves looked at one another.
“Yes, we have all heard the name. He is but a man, a man whose power is all but useless against us. He was meant to die in the earth realm, and instead he’ll die here, among his friends. And no one will ever know what happened.”