Dragon's Egg (Dark Streets Book 2)
Page 3
Valinir rose to his feet. “You’re drunk, Garilmir. Go home and keep your filthy tongue to yourself.”
“So, you’ve fallen so low that you can’t find a decent woman?” Garilmir responded. “You should be ashamed to bring a halfling slut to mingle with decent people.”
I rose to my feet. The top of my head reached Garilmir’s nose. My height and my slit pupils gave the lie to him calling me a halfling. I looked him in the eyes and asked in High Elvish, “Do you wish to challenge me?” The formal tense I used implied a duel to the death.
His eyes widened. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out.
“I am sorry for your brother,” I said. “It appears that the brother with honor died and left you to wallow in guilt for abandoning him. But neither of us can change that, can we? Unless you wish to sorrow your mother a second time, I suggest you back off, go home, and sober up. You’re embarrassing yourself.”
He didn’t resist when his friends grabbed his arms and dragged him away. Other than the music coming from the musicians on the far side of the room, the area around us was silent.
I turned back to my companions and said, “I’m tired. I’d like to go back to my room now.”
As we walked back to The Household, Minirin said, “There were parts of the dossier we obtained from the Americans,” she hesitated. “Well, let’s just say that we had trouble making sense of them. A farm girl isn’t normally trained to do some of the things they documented about you.”
“Most farm girls’ fathers didn’t serve in the Guard at High Elhandirhin,” I said, without elaboration. There was no reason that anyone in Earth’s realm would need to know that my father was anything more than a farmer. His life before he met my mother and resettled to Midgard would mean nothing to a Human, and I never talked about my family. Yes, I grew up on a farm. And although most Elven women were trained in arms, few were trained from the time they could first walk by the former Master-at-Arms of the queen’s Palace Guard.
On my third day in Iceland, Valinir and I were flown back to the airport, and we boarded a plane for Ireland. The flight to Dublin Airport was uneventful, and Valinir wasn’t talkative.
My cousin Imora met us at the airport. She was a little older than I was and looked a lot like me, even to her green hair. We greeted each other in the normal reserved way Elves acted in the presence of strangers, but once Valinir and I had our luggage and she led us out of the terminal, she leaned close and hugged me.
“Welcome, cousin. It’s very good to meet you at last.”
“Yes,” I answered. “I’ve been very curious.”
She laughed. “I’m sure you have. Come, I have a car waiting.”
The car included a young Elf with bronze hair, barely past the age of maturity. “This is Davor,” Imora said, “my younger brother. He shall be our driver.”
I noted that the car was a luxury sedan, but considering our height, there were few economy cars that would accommodate us. Imora let Valinir take the front seat for the leg room, handed each of us a large bottle of fruit juice, and we took off.
It quickly became apparent that either I or Imora should have taken the front seat. Valinir flinched when Davor pulled out into traffic, and I saw him brace for catastrophe the first time the young man whipped left through a roundabout. I realized that for Valinir, Reykjavik was the big city with one hundred twenty-five thousand people, Dublin had over a million people and freeways. Imora also noticed Valinir’s discomfort.
“Some of our young people love Dublin,” Imora said, “but I prefer the country. It’s more like home, don’t you agree, Valinir?”
As we drove, Imora told us of the Irish Alfenholm, located southeast of Dublin between the western side of the Wicklow Mountains and a large reservoir on the River Liffey. With the arrogance of Elves, they had colonized the area without asking or taking into account any Humans living there. The Elves bought off the few Humans living there, and the Irish government made little protest. When the Elves sent a thousand warriors to Dublin to assist with an invasion of demons, and later helped to manage an infestation of Vampires in Cork, grudging acceptance by the Irish of the new immigrants turned to enthusiastic welcome.
“We paid the Humans for their farms and houses, of course,” Imora said. “The Irish government thought our presence would be good for tourism. They got rather upset when we blocked off the road around the eastern side of the lake, but we put a herd of unicorns to pasture up there.” She laughed. “The Humans built towers along that end of our holdings and charge tourists to see the unicorns.”
“You came here even before the Beltane rupture two years ago,” I prompted.
She sobered. “Yes. We were the first holding to come to Earth after the fall of Elhandirhin. When the usurper failed to conquer the High Elves and Wood Elves, he turned his sight to Midgard. A large army of Dark Elves, Dwarves, Trolls, and Goblins passed through the portals and attempted to bring Midgard under his control. Our holding was near a portal and one of the first targets. We fought our way through and escaped.”
Valinir had twisted in his seat so he could see Imora as she spoke. “The battle strength of this holding is probably equal to that of the other three holdings in this realm combined,” he told me. “Most of our warriors stayed in Alfheim to fight.”
“Yes,” Imora said. “We had no time to be dainty about our exit. Our concern was to save what we could and live to fight another day. Should the Dark King decide to invade Earth, we will be the first line of defense when he comes through the portal.”
Valinir nodded and said, “That is part of the reason we didn’t stay in Ireland when we came through. We have about as many people as Lady Darenda, but not the strength to hold off an assault. Our population has more old folks and children. Imora’s people will bear the brunt of any invasion.”
We drove through the green Irish countryside for an hour, then turned off on a road with stone towers on either side. A government sign at the crossroads read, “Tuatha de Danann”—People of the Mounds. Three Elves came out of the towers and removed a barricade across the road, so we could proceed.
The road wound along a deep lake on our right, with open pasture on our left, and beyond the mountains in the distance. Davor drove far more cautiously than he had on the public roads. When we came around a curve to find a herd of unicorns crossing the road, I knew why. Farther on, we twice came across herds of sheep on the road and once a single unicorn stallion standing in the road. He acted as though he had no intention of moving, but eventually he let us pass.
While the Elves allowed Humans to gawk at the unicorns, they obviously didn’t extend that privilege when it came to their own villages. The only way the living areas could be seen was from the air. Imora told us three distinct villages housed more than twenty thousand Elves. A fourth village in the mountains lay astride the road from the portal. The lower villages ringed a town with shops, factories, and merchant businesses. Outside the circle were greenhouses and gardens. Farther out, the community grew grains and raised livestock. Imora was a weaver and worked in one of the factories.
“We brought our herds,” Imora said. “Other than a very quick scouting expedition, we knew not what kind of world we were stepping into. We only knew that here we might stand a fighting chance.”
Valinir said, “The four holdings here on earth maintain a common garrison at the portal in the Wicklow Mountains.” He gestured to the mountains behind the holding. “One hundred battle mages at all times. I will be serving a tour there next year.”
Imora’s family—her father Legarnir, mother, grandmother, Davor and their younger sister—occupied a mound in one of the villages. I shared a room with Imora, while Valinir shared a room with Davor. When we first entered down a staircase into the ground and found ourselves in a room off the kitchen, I thought the accommodations would be rather cramped. I turned out to be wrong. The rooms were spacious, and one room was dedicated to a library with a table and comfortable chairs.
; “Davor attends Trinity College in Dublin,” Imora said. “He brings books whenever he comes home, and thus we fill our minds as well as our bellies in this new world.” I saw a full set of encyclopedias, newer than the one I had read from end to end when I first learned English. Books on farming, business, geography, science, and history.
“No fiction?” I asked.
Imora laughed. “It takes up too much room. For that we use electronic readers. But it is important.” She swept her hand at the bookshelves. “These tell us about this world. The fiction tells us how Humans think and feel. That is a very important thing.”
I agreed.
All of the lighting came from magelights, and a magestove in the kitchen cooked meals. Except for being underground, it could have been any home in the village where I grew up.
Dinner that evening was completely different than the formal gathering in Iceland. Freewheeling conversation, laughter and teasing, the family members cheering each other’s accomplishments of the day, and sympathizing with any obstacles encountered. Their family was close, and as a cousin, no matter how distant, they took me in without hesitation.
They wanted to know about America, of course, and I talked far more than I ate. They were polite but somewhat formal with Valinir, asking him about Iceland and his family, and answering his questions. I did notice Valinir and Imora eyeing each other when they thought the other wasn’t looking, and it made me smile.
As we prepared for sleep in Imora’s room, I asked, “How did you know I’m your cousin?”
“When Prietnar’s forces invaded Midgard, we were hemmed in on three sides by the enemy, with the sea to our backs. Lady Darenda decided we would run for the portal instead of surrendering. Some of us were dispatched to visit the villages and farmsteads between the holding and the sea. She swore that no one who wanted to go should be left behind.”
She walked over and sat on the bed next to me. “My father and his sister are your mother’s cousins. I went with my aunt and met your mother. She showed me your picture and said that if I ran into you out in the realms, to tell you that she loved you. Then I saw you on TV when the mages tried to take over the U.S. government.”
I remembered the last time I saw my mother. She told me I was making a mistake, and I would regret going with Alaric.
“My father? Did you see him?”
Imora shook her head. “No, Rogir had already gone through the portal to Alfheim. He planned to join the Crown’s forces at the Eyrie.”
“Why didn’t she come with you?”
“She said that she had to be there when Rogir and you came home. She said that if she wasn’t there, you wouldn’t know how to find her.”
That broke me. I hadn’t cried since I was seventeen years old. It hurt so damned bad, and the tears flooded down my cheeks. Imora gathered me in an embrace and held me until I cried myself to sleep.
Chapter 4
Samhain, the harvest festival, had become the holiday of Halloween on Earth, a party time for children. In Ireland, tradition held that it was the day when the veils between worlds were thinnest—a day to honor the ancestors. The condition of the veils was the one thing they got right. I thought it was rather funny how Humans had created myths to explain things they didn’t understand.
In the Elven communities on Earth, it remained a celebration of a successful harvest, a time to acknowledge the goddess Danu and her blessings, as well as a time to draw close and gird for battle. With the veils so fragile already, the Midgard Elves at Irish Alfenholm brought all their herds into the center of the settlement. Bonfires around the perimeter awaited the torch. Everyone over the age of fifteen carried their weapons everywhere they went.
My cousins’ household gathered with extended family under a canvas covering and threw a feast. Our family gathering was only one of the hundreds throughout the settlement. Musicians played, people danced, everyone ate and drank. The festivities began with the sun setting over the lake and lighting up the mountains to the east.
Valinir and I started out together, but Imora soon took his arm, and they drifted off. I wandered around, met people—everyone knew who I was—ate, drank, danced, and answered the same questions over and over. I hadn’t danced with other Elves in seventy years, and I danced until I could hardly walk. I couldn’t remember when last I had such a good time.
Near midnight, a middle-aged woman in a beautiful gown decorated with embroidered Dragons approached me. She nodded at the flagon of mead I carried.
“Are you enjoying the festivities?” she asked.
In spite of the years, I recognized her. We met briefly when I was a schoolgirl.
“I am, my lady. It’s been a long time since I celebrated Samhain with other Elves.”
“And your stay, I hope,” she continued. “What do you think of the new life we’ve made here?”
“Very impressive. You’ve accomplished a lot in only three years. It’s very comfortable.”
Lady Darenda nodded. “Are you interested in rejoining Elven society? If not here, then maybe at one of the other holdings?”
I had thought about that question a lot since arriving in Ireland. “Not at the present time,” I said. “Perhaps in the future. For now, I’m enjoying what I’ve built in Washington.”
“You’ve been here,” she paused and cocked her head, giving me a bit of a sideways look, “how long?”
“Seventy-two years, my lady.”
“And you’re not a realm walker.”
“No, I’m not. I’m not even a mage. I’m a simple alchemist, not even a very strong hedge witch.”
She laughed. “Sometime, I should like to hear the story of how you came here.”
I was bluntly honest. “I’ve never told that tale. I came here with a realm walker. It took us five years from Midgard.”
“And he left you here?” she asked with a frown.
“He died.”
“Well, let’s leave that tale for another time. Come see me after Samhain. We need to talk about eggs.”
As she strode away, plucking a flagon of mead from a table in passing, I noted her demeanor was quite different from Lady Erinir of Iceland. Both bore an unmistakable aura of power and command, but I noted that Darenda wore leggings under her gown, and had a sword strapped across her back. I would never expect that of the elegant and feminine Erinir.
I could easily envision Darenda mounting a unicorn and vowing to cut her way through her enemies to the portal and safety.
The first sign of trouble came just after midnight. The unicorns became restive, then some bugled out a challenge. Warriors broke and ran toward the outer edges of the settlement. I stood still, listening and watching. It appeared the problem lay to the east, in the direction of the mountains.
Women began rounding up the children and herding them into the hands of old men and women who funneled the kids into the nearest mounds. The operation was efficient and organized, as though such events were routine.
I checked my two paintball guns and loaded them with the potions I thought most likely to be of use.
Valinir appeared by my side as though by magic.
“You startled me,” I said. “Aren’t you going to rush off to battle?”
“My job is to protect you. This holding has plenty of warriors to deal with a bunch of wolves.”
“What about Imora?” I asked.
“She’s safe with the other women protecting the children.” He motioned to the paintball guns. “What is that?”
I grinned and held up one of the balls. “Potions. This one is wolfsbane, and the other gun is loaded with demonbane. If we have a rift, we may have more than a few Weres to deal with,” I said. “I figured I’d just stand here in the middle of things. Sort of a strategic reserve, if you know what I mean.”
He laughed. “That’s probably not a bad idea. There could be a breakthrough, or—”
A woman’s scream came from the direction of the lake. We both drew our swords and ran toward the sound.
The demon cast her body aside and lunged at me. I struck at his arm, leaving a long slice between his elbow and wrist. It was like swinging my sword at a tree trunk, and my arm went numb. He jerked his hand back and roared at me, then charged forward again.
I took him by surprise by diving toward him, passing under his grasping arms and between his legs. I extended my sword as I tucked and rolled under him. The sword cut deeply in a very tender place, and the demon screamed.
Valinir extended his hand, and a white ball of magic flew toward the demon, hit him, and expanded, enveloping him. That took the brute’s attention away from me. Pulling out the paintball gun loaded with demonbane, I fired three times as fast as I could pull the trigger. The last shot hit him in the back of the head. I saw the skin where the beet-red liquid touched begin to flake away and the wounds spread.
The demon didn’t seem to notice, being preoccupied with trying to pull the white foamy stuff from Valinir’s spell off his face. He staggered, reeling away from us in total silence.
I was so entranced by watching the wounded demon, that I almost failed to see the other one. Not nearly as large, but much faster, I barely dodged him when he tried to grab me. Valinir hit him with another of those magic white balls, and he seemed to forget about me. Aiming carefully, I fired a paintball and hit him in the head.
“What kind of spell was that?” I asked Valinir, then shouted, “Look out!” as a large wolf leaped out of the darkness behind him.
Valinir spun and ducked, throwing up an arm to protect himself. He struck the wolf, and it sailed past him, directly toward me. Too late, it saw my sword waiting for it. The wolf tried to twist in the air but hit the point of the sword with jarring force and slid half the sword’s length toward me.
A fireball flew from Valinir’s hand in the direction the wolf had come from, and in its light, we saw half a dozen wolves scatter.