Wraith King 3

by Jack Porter

  She cast me a sideways glance. “What is yours, human?”

  “Jon.”

  “My name is Willow. It is the name my lord gave to me.”

  I studied her briefly, noting that she was indeed slim and willowy, and I thought the name apt. However, I kept this thought to myself, and instead asked another question. “Does your lord have a name?”

  “He does, but I will not tell it. If he chooses to share that with you, then that is his business.”

  I’d never met a male elf in charge and was interested to see what he was like. The wood elves were proving to be as different from the dark elves as the dark elves were from humans. Or so I thought. Willow walked in apparent ease, but she maintained that watchful eye.

  “Two of your horses are elven,” she said.

  “Yes,” I said, deciding not to try to hide the truth. “My mare and Ilana’s were given to us by the Dark Elves of Blackhold.”

  If this information surprised Willow, she didn’t let it show.

  We walked in silence for some time, and I noticed that the trees had become denser and darker. But the path remained free from things that would try to trip us up. Indeed, it seemed we were on some kind of trail. After an hour of walking, the trees grew taller, their golden branches spreading higher overhead, leaving the ground below shadowy but with a warmer light than I was used to in Hell.

  We entered a shaded glen that was dotted with wooden huts in a half circle. In the center was a small community fire where several dogs and pigs wandered freely.

  But that’s as far as my observation went, because all I saw after that was naked flesh. Every female elf in the village was naked, and I counted about twenty of them at first glance. Their hair was almost always long and smooth, but of varying shades of gray, purple, brown, and even dark red. Their bodies ranged from pale to olive-skinned to dark.

  It was like a nudist colony of elves.

  There were few males around, most of them young elflings. All of them wore a loincloth or some form of leggings. The few adult males seemed to stay on the fringes, while the females gathered to see the newcomers.

  At once, three young female elves, barely adults, approached and offered to take our horses. I hesitated and looked at Willow.

  “Do not worry,” she said, “they will care for your horses with sweet grasses, a rub down, and freshly sanctified water. We revere horses here, but do not keep many of them, for obvious reasons.”

  I nodded, and the elves led our horses away. Ilana and Wren came to stand next to me.

  “Where is my friend?” I asked.

  “She will be in one of the huts.”

  “I hope your lord has the good sense not to harm her,” I said, allowing the threat to show in my voice.

  Willow shook her head. “He will not. At least, not until he has made a decision about you. He will appear shortly.”

  Soon enough, a male emerged from behind the huts. He was big, powerful-looking, and had a full beard.

  And he was most noticeably not an elf.

  He was a man.

  He gestured for us to be brought closer, and when we reached the fire, he spread his arms out to us. “Welcome, strangers.”

  I nodded but didn’t let my eyes show any emotion. “I’m not sure we feel so welcome,” I said, “after having been brought here at the point of some well-aimed arrows.”

  He laughed and nodded. “You are correct. My apologies, but these good elves only do as I ask, and we do not easily allow strangers to enter our forest. It needs to be protected, as I’m sure you can understand.”

  “I do. Tell me, where is my friend?”

  “Ah, you are a jealous man, are you? I don’t blame you, although it is unusual to see a human man traveling with a harem made up of such... interesting... races. A succubus, a half-elf, and the human we found first.”

  “You’re a bit unusual, yourself,” I said, and he was. He moved with the natural grace and power of a predator, and even seated at the fire as he now was, something about him suggested he could be dangerous in a fight. I couldn’t help but think of the warlord we were looking for. If this man had been leading armed rogues rather than a group of peaceful-looking elves, he would have looked the part. “Are these female elves your harem?” I asked him.

  The man smiled. “They are.” I could see him sizing me up just as I was doing with him, and wondered what he saw. A mirror of himself, in a way? In any event, he seemed to come to a decision. “I apologize for keeping your redheaded friend from you. She is free to join you.”

  True to his word, Sarina was brought out from one of the huts. She was still wearing her armor, but her sword had been taken from her. I wondered what it had taken for the elves to overpower her and remove it. Probably they had dropped from the trees just like Willow and her band. But Sarina was not easily surprised, and I was mildly impressed by them.

  She moved swiftly around the harem of naked elves and came to stand by my side.

  “Are you alright?” I asked.

  “Yes,” she said, although somewhat bitterly. “I am sorry.”

  “No need.” I looked at her, and she did seem well, if not exactly happy that she had been kept prisoner, even if it was only a couple of hours. I wasn’t pleased about it, either. I wanted to reserve judgment until I knew more about this man.

  “Well,” he said, “now that you are reunited, we are good, yes? So, sit. Stay and eat with us.”

  I glanced at my girls, and none of them looked upset by his offer, except perhaps Wren, who seemed a bit defiant. She watched the little elflings and half-elflings running about, and I figured she must have been wondering about their fates.

  “We will stay,” I said. “Thank you. And, if you don’t mind, would you return my friend’s sword to her?”

  The man nodded, and one of the naked elves left and returned with the sword. Sarina nodded curtly to her, buckled the sword around her waist, and then sat with the rest of us.

  “What is your name?” I asked the man, but then I was distracted.

  One of the harem brought out skins of water and poured it over my hands to wash them. Then she dried my hands with a cloth, and I struggled not to look at her swinging breasts as she bent toward me. Ilana, Sarina, and Wren were all treated the same way, and soon we were washed and ready to eat.

  The man gestured, and an elf passed him a broad leaf filled to almost overflowing with some kind of cooked and juicy meat. It smelled delicious, and I had to admit that the idea of a real meal appealed to me.

  With his fingers, he dipped some of the meat onto another leaf provided to him, and then gestured that the big leaf be passed to us. We were provided with smaller leaves of our own, and each of us took a portion. Another broad leaf was brought out, this time with something that looked like a hot mash with maybe corn or something like it. It was steaming and almost burned my fingers when I removed some for myself. If I hadn’t been protected by the wyrm’s blood, I imagined that I would have had blisters.

  A similar meal was passed around to all the elves, and everyone settled in. Once the circle was quiet, the man nodded to me, dipped his fingers into his own food, and scooped it into his mouth. As he chewed, he said, “This is so you know that we would not poison you. In fact, it is a great sin to harm our guests.”

  I looked at Ilana and Sarina, who were always better at detecting poisons than I seemed to be, and both of them began to eat. Wren, did, too, and so I dipped out some of it and took a bite. It was hot and surprisingly spicy, but not unpleasant. And I found that I was incredibly hungry. So I ate everything on my leaf, and when I was done, the same elf brought more water for me to wash myself with, and again a cloth for drying. Only this time, she dried my hands for me, taking her time to get between my fingers.

  Aware that the man was watching, I kept my gaze firmly on her face. She looked up at me once and smiled. Then, she finished cleaning my hands and moved on.

  “My name,” the man said, “is Maelon. I am the lord of this glen an
d of all the woods within ten leagues of here. However, I only protect them, as these woods are not for any person to own.”

  “My name is Jon,” I said, “and I am here on a quest of sorts.”

  “Oh?” Maelon asked with a raised eyebrow. He patted the ground next to him, and one of the elves—Willow, who was now naked—went to sit beside him. He put a protective arm around her and she smiled. I wondered how much of this was an act, and how much was genuine. It was hard to tell because the elves were always so good at hiding their emotions unless they wanted you to know how they felt. “Are you able to tell me what is this quest?” Maelon asked.

  I nodded. Once more I sized the man up, wondering if he could be who I was after. But again, this was not a war band. It couldn’t be. I had no doubt that the elves could defend themselves if need be, but this was no more than a family, the type of thing I might one day seek to have.

  “There is a warlord somewhere in this region,” I said finally. “I have heard tales of him and am seeking to find out what he knows about groups of raiders slaughtering people in the Slavers’ Bowl.” I looked at Maelon meaningfully, watching him for any sign of recognition.

  Maelon returned my gaze without any indication he knew what I was talking about. He frowned. “Raiders, you say?”

  I nodded.

  “I don’t know anything about raiders.”

  “But you do know what goes on in this forest, correct?” I pressed. “It took only a few minutes for your elves to find us, and it’s not like anyone to get the jump on me.”

  “Feeling put out about that still, after I fed you?” he said it with a half smile, as if he was a father scolding his child.

  And I didn’t like it. “Just pointing out facts. And that if you know what goes on in this forest, then if there is some sort of rogue warlord in here, there’s a good chance you know about him.”

  Maelon laughed. “I don’t like the accusation in your tone, but I’ll put your mind at ease anyway.” He spread his hands wide again. “I’m just a man who has found happiness in the forest with his harem of elves. The twelve of them are my everything. My life. I would not endanger them by fraternizing with raiders or rogues of any sort. In fact, in case you haven’t noticed, we don’t much like strangers here.” He scowled. “Especially ones who accuse me of being some sort of villain after I’ve fed them my best food.”

  I bent my head in apology. “I do not mean to offend, but the matter is very important, and my boldness in asking is only out of a willingness to protect the people for whom I’ve been fighting for many months.”

  He raised an eyebrow at this. “What people?”

  “The people of the Slavers’ Bowl. There is war brewing outside this forest.”

  “And you dare to bring it here? To my forest and my elves and to me?” he said.

  “No, I only seek answers,” I said. I decided I didn’t trust this man, not exactly, but I couldn’t put my finger on any particular reason. So I said, “I’m also looking for a seer. Are there any of those in the forest?”

  “No,” Maelon said at once. “Not that I know of. Although my Brightlight sees visions from time to time.” He gestured to a very beautiful elf sitting nearby. She had dark black hair that shifted color as she moved. “Go ahead, ask her,” the man said.

  “Have you any knowledge of this seer?”

  The beautiful elf shook her head. “I do not, but I have heard a rumor of a seer deeper within in the woods, in the thrall of the wood elves.”

  “Do the wood elves keep slaves, then?” I asked, and I couldn’t help but glance around at the harem. Were they slaves themselves? They didn’t wear collars, but that didn’t mean they weren’t being held against their will.

  “I know what you’re thinking,” the man said, drawing my gaze back to him. “How does a son of a whore like me keep so many beautiful elves happy?”

  “Something like that,” I said.

  “I could ask the same thing of you,” he said shrewdly. “But they are all here of their own free will. They can come and go as they please, although it rarely happens that one wants to leave me. But if they do, I send them with as much food and drink as they can carry, and make sure they have a safe guide out of the forest or wherever they are going.”

  The elves all nodded, and Willow, who was seated next to Maelon, ran her hand down his arm and onto his leg. He looked into her eyes, smiled, and kissed her deeply on the lips.

  “So the wood elves in this forest keep a seer?” Ilana said, speaking for the first time since we’d sat down to eat. “What is her purpose?”

  The man turned his attention to Ilana. “Does this man, Jon, make you happy?”

  Ilana nodded. “Very much so.”

  “Pity,” Maelon said. But he didn’t elaborate, although I had no trouble imagining what he had in mind as he looked at Ilana. Still, his gaze finally traveled to Sarina, who he nodded to, and then to Wren. His eyes rested on her for a moment longer before moving back to me. “You are a harem of outcasts, I believe.”

  I frowned. Yes, I’d thought of us that way but didn’t like him pointing it out. “We are a band of like-minded individuals,” I said, trying to remain diplomatic, and then added, “Warriors.”

  He nodded and then clapped his hands together. “I have a place for you tonight, if you are willing. You may stay in one of the huts. I’m afraid it is small, but then,” he said with a grin, “I imagine you don’t mind sleeping close together, do you?”

  18

  Willow led us past the grouping of huts. They were made of twigs, black leaves, and brown moss, but they looked secure. One hut in the center though, was larger and made of stone.

  “That is Maelon’s main dwelling,” the elf said. “We often eat in there when the air is not good, and many of us sleep in there, as well.”

  “And the others sleep in the twig huts?” Sarina asked.

  The elf nodded. “When we feel that we need some privacy, yes. Also, the elflings sleep in them, too, and there are always a couple of us wives on hand to watch over them at night.”

  I was about to ask how many elflings there were when something else caught my eye.

  An enormous, black, hairy beast. With tusks protruding up from its lower jaw, the snout of a pig, and a ridge of bristly hair on its back. The creature was bigger than my horse, and probably outweighed it by two times. It could have been a wild boar, but it was bigger than any I’d ever heard of.

  It stood next to the stone hut, and I swear it growled at me when its gleaming eyes fell on our little group. The creature was currently munching on something that looked like bones.

  “What the Hell is that?” I asked.

  Our elf guide nodded. “A Hellpig. He is Maelon’s companion.”

  “Companion…” I repeated, slightly aghast. “What, like a pet?”

  The elf shook her head. “No, Bonecrusher is no simple pet. He chooses to live here, just like the rest of us.”

  “Okay,” I said, because I had plenty of questions, but none of them would have been polite to ask.

  My first question was what the fuck was that Hellpig eating? And how the fuck did it get so large? And what would happen if the animal decided to chomp on one of us? It didn’t exactly look gentle. One stomp from its hoof alone would have crushed a skull.

  I’d seen many terrifying things since arriving in Hell, and for some reason, none of them were as unsettling as this abomination. And I was again grateful that I could rely on magic if the brute attacked.

  When it looked at Sarina, it gave a short bellow that echoed through the trees, and grunted for a few moments until we passed. I wondered if it could sense that she was a Hellhound shifter, and it made me even more uneasy.

  At the end of the grouping of huts, the elf gestured for us to enter one that looked like all the rest. Inside was dry, just like everywhere else in Hell, and Sarina and I had to stoop low to get under the doorway, but it was free from the smoke that even beneath the canopy of the forest made my throat
and nose scratchy.

  “You will understand if we ask that you remain here until morning,” Willow said. “We will not restrain you, of course, but if you were to startle any of the children, Bonecrusher would respond in anger before we could stop him. He is a protector of sorts, because he respects Maelon that much.”

  I wanted to ask if the Hellpig was eating the children, because he looked more like that’s what he wanted to do instead of protecting them. Again, I kept my mouth shut for the time being, and we settled ourselves down on a large pallet of grass, straw, twigs, feathers, and scraps of cloth. It was surprisingly comfortable, and I sank down with a weariness I hadn’t expected.

  The girls sat down in a circle, but all of them angled toward the door so we could see if anyone approached.

  “What do you think, Jon?” Sarina asked quietly.

  “I was going to ask you the same thing.”

  “Maelon—he is like you. Full of unexpected strengths, and perhaps dangerous. My instincts tell me there’s more to see here than we have been shown, but I don’t know what it is.”

  “What about that Hellpig? Have you ever seen one before?”

  “Not one that large,” Ilana said, “but I have heard rumors about them in battles long ago.”

  Wren shifted on her section of mat and pulled out a twig that had been sticking to her thigh. “There are plenty of them in the Sacred Forest, I believe, but they are usually wild. And no, not typically that big. I remember running away from one when I was an abandoned elfling. It almost got me, and I climbed a tree to get away. It waited for me for three days before moving on. And by then, I could barely climb down from the tree.”

  I found myself thinking about the trials the half-elf had endured, so many of them at such a young age.

  “Wren, does this place look familiar?” Ilana asked.

  The half-elf shook her head. “I don’t think so. And if you’re wondering if Maelon is my father, he doesn’t seem the type to leave the elflings out in the woods on their own, does he? I have seen many ages here.”