A group of six female dancers put on a show. They skated across the sheer ice with bladed boots, leaping, spinning, and twirling. They used their powers to alter the ice sheets, bending them and turning them, creating a halfpipe that was opened to the companions so that they might see the daring tricks the skaters performed as they went up one side and twirled before coming back down again to shoot up the other side.
Gibrig was awed by the athletic display, and he watched dreamily, often glancing at Sir Eldrick with a dopey, watery-eyed grin. Sir Eldrick enjoyed the dinner and the show, but he yearned to be alone with his friends. There was still the problem of Drak’Noir, and he was eager to hear what their plan was. The companions, however, had other things to talk about. They had all gotten quite tipsy off iced wine and jabbered on into the long hours with the ice elves. Brannon even took up a flute and began playing a tune. And Murland, surely wanting to impress Princess Caressa, made up a song with Gibrig and sang boisterously, dancing on the table—to the amusement of the queen, the awe of the ice elf males, and the shock of the females. When Murland and Gibrig fell to the ground in a fit of laughter, Wendel leapt at the chance to grab the attention. He jumped up onto the table and began to sing in a deep baritone that seemed so out of place coming from his chittering jaw bone that the elves stared in wonder, imagining that he had been possessed by a god.
As “The Tragedy of Poor Wendel” echoed through the city, Sir Eldrick noted that his daughter drank her share of iced wine as well, but she seemed not to share his curse. He smiled to himself, and Akitla turned toward him, catching him once again staring at her.
“Thirsty?” she said, raising an ice goblet.
“None for me, I am afraid. I kind of have a problem with it.”
“Oh, right, sorry.”
“No worries.”
She scooted over on the long bench so that she might be more easily heard. The ice elves had begun to play along with Wendel, and he soaked up the moment like the ham he was, throwing off his robes and reaching his bony hand toward the sky, singing, “Father…why have you forsaken me?”
“Your friends are…weird,” said Akitla.
Sir Eldrick laughed. “Right you are. Once I thought that they were fools, one and all, but it turned out that I was the only fool among them. I see that clearly now. They are some of the bravest big-hearted people that I have ever met, and I find myself wishing that I could be like them.”
“But, you are brave. You have a big heart,” said Akitla.
“Thanks,” he told her, wanting to believe it.
“Northern lights, and I thought I was a brooder,” she said, rolling her eyes and standing. She offered her hand. “Come on, let’s dance. The skeleton is done shrieking.”
Sir Eldrick put down his cider and let his daughter lead him to the makeshift dance floor. “I have to warn you,” he said, striking a pose. “I’m a hell of a dancer.”
She struck the same pose, grinning. “Let’s see what you’ve got, old man.”
Just then there came an explosion from the tops of one of the neighboring ice buildings. Cherry red missiles shot into the air, and the music stopped as everyone held their breath in anticipation. Sir Eldrick had gone for his sword, but then watched like all the others, amazed at how high the streaking lights traveled. Suddenly they exploded into a shower of multi-colored sparks that bloomed like flowers before slowly fizzling back down to Earth like a waterfall of light.
“It’s Minstrel Freeze?” one of the males yelled, and even as he spoke, a voice boomed through the city, as though amplified by magic.
“Who’s ready to partayyyy!” came a female voice.
Akitla clapped and pointed at the building where the explosion had come from, and there, among foggy mist shone upon by blue light, stood a young tattooed and pierced ice elf female, presumably Minstrel Freeze. Upon the ice block in front of her were three glowing crystals, and when she waved her hand over one, a preternaturally loud drum beat started. Sir Eldrick recognized them as singing crystals. She moved her hand over another, and a melody began, sounding as though it came from some sort of piano.
Everyone clapped and cheered, and Akitla began a fast-paced, wild dance, the likes of which Sir Eldrick had never seen before. She laughed as he tried to mimic the barbaric dance, for he was used to refined balls with gatherings of gown-clad women and men sporting three-piece suits, hats, capes and decorative canes.
The other companions seemed to have no trouble dancing to the wild, too-loud and thumping music—Brannon especially. And while Gibrig’s dance was jittery and stiff, it was something. Even old Hagus, with his one good eye and pipe and heavy boots, cut chunks out of the ice with his fast-moving feet.
The music repeated itself maddeningly while at the same time getting higher and higher pitched. All the ice elves laughed and grinned at each other in anticipation, and finally, mercifully, the beat dropped with what sounded like an explosion, followed by a whirling, stuttering siren like the call of a mermaid.
Dingleberry in particular loved the thumping music and the wild ice elves, for if there was one thing that could make a great party even better, it was fust. The little sprite shook her wings out and collected a large pile, before cutting it into lines and yelling, “Who wants some toot-toot?”
Sir Eldrick let go of his ideas of respectable dance and gave himself to the music. Brannon cheered and grabbed Valkimir by the cheeks, who in turn dipped him and kissed him deeply. The companions cheered them on, and a flustered Brannon was swiftly taken up in Valkimir’s strong arms and ferried toward the palace.
It was a night that none of them would soon forget, but all of them would soon long for.
Chapter 9
Farewell to the City of Ice
Sir Eldrick was the first of the companions to wake. In truth, he had gotten little sleep—and not just because of the queen’s appetite. He had left her snoring shortly before dawn and dressed in fine new armor that she had given him the night before. He stood on the balcony of the queen’s quarters looking west, anxious to continue the quest. He felt like a new man standing there on the balcony in the frigid morning air. Something had happened out there in the northern cold. A part of him had died, he realized. He had ventured out looking for death, and he had found new life. For now, there were no lies, no deceptions. Everything was on the table, and the champions still loved him. He had finally met one of his children. And he realized that never having met one of them was something that up until now he hadn’t noticed—or wanted to admit—had bothered him. Now he wondered about all the other children that he was said to have sired, for he had received dozens of letters from as many women—and even a dwarf lass—who said that they had given birth to his child. Some of them wanted money, others wanted marriage, but he had never responded to any of them. Sir Eldrick had always hated fathers, and he had never wanted to be one. Indeed, what kind of father could a hero be? Sir Eldrick hated goodbyes, and any relationship he nurtured would inevitably be filled with farewells and lonesome times in between.
He determined then that if he lived through the impossible quest, he would search out his children, each and every one of them.
“Up so early?” Akitla called from a balcony far to the right.
“I have always been an early riser.”
“Come, breakfast is being prepared. We have much to discuss before heading out.”
“Go ahead, I’ll be there shortly. I want to wake my friends.”
She nodded and disappeared inside.
Sir Eldrick took one last look west and turned on his heel, heading for the companions’ quarters. The queen had given them all private lodging, which was just down the corridor from her quarters. They had all gotten to know the ice elves well the night before, but still, a regiment of guards stood outside their doors, females one and all, who held long spears with crystalline tips like icicles.
“Ladies,” said Sir Eldrick with a respectful, downward nod.
They parted for him, all but o
ne, who scowled at him and looked him up and down as though thoroughly unimpressed. “Akitla does not belong in the south,” she said, elven words laced with hatred.
“I believe that Akitla belongs wherever she thinks she does,” said Sir Eldrick.
“You dare speak back to a female?”
“I do. But alas, I want no fight with you, for I am having a marvelous morning, and I am in no mood for a pissing match.”
She tensed, and the other guards looked from their comrade to Sir Eldrick, waiting.
“What do you think you’re doing?” said Akitla, who had just turned the corner.
The females instantly backed down and hurried to formation.
Akitla walked purposefully toward them and stopped before the aggressor “I asked you a question, Keeko.”
“Nothing, Your Highness.”
“This is my father, and he is to be shown respect. Do you understand?”
“It was just a misunderstanding,” said Sir Eldrick. “I believe that Keeko is sad to see you go. And who can blame her?”
“Nin feren to latha gringo!” Keeko said angrily.
“I am not speaking for you,” Sir Eldrick told her, and Keeko looked surprised that he knew her words. “I just call it like I see it.”
“You are dismissed!” Akitla told the angry elf, and Keeko glowered at her. She looked to Sir Eldrick with eyes as cold as ice and thumbed her chin—which Sir Eldrick knew to be the equivalent of the human middle finger.
“All of you, go,” said Akitla.
The guards left them, and Akitla turned to her father. “I’m sorry about that. They are not used to being civil around men.”
“Who can blame them?” he said with a laugh.
He opened the door to the companions’ quarters and found everyone snoring the morning away. The room was dark, with the shades drawn tight and everyone huddled together beneath thick fur blankets. Sir Eldrick tiptoed through the room and threw open the shades. To his amusement, he found Wendel spooning Hagus, who in turn held the skeleton’s bony hand with two of his own.
“Good morning!” Sir Eldrick sang, and his jubilant greeting was met with groans and grumbles.
Hagus awoke sleepily, but then his eyes went wide. “Wendel, where be yer other hand?”
“Between two furs,” said the skeleton sleepily.
“Them ain’t furs!” said Hagus, and he shot to his feet doing a herky-jerky dance.
Wendel cackled and sniffed his bony hand.
“Ugh, that’s just wrong,” said Akitla.
“What time is it?” Murland asked, rubbing his eyes blearily.
“Time to rise and shine,” said Sir Eldrick. “Breakfast is served, and the road awaits.”
“Yes sir!” said a disheveled but happy Gibrig as he got to his feet and gave a stretch.
At the mention of breakfast, Willow leapt from beneath a pile of furs and staggered to the door, itching her backside.
The queen joined them shortly, and together they feasted on seaweed salad, shell fish, and whale blubber soup—which Willow found to be quite delectable. After the meal, Astrila asked for a few moments with her daughter before they all headed out. When Akitla returned, she looked to have been crying, but she wore a genuine smile.
“Take care of our daughter,” said the queen as the companions loaded onto the boat that would take them back to the Iron Fist.
“I will,” said Sir Eldrick.
The queen hugged Akitla, and Sir Eldrick heard her whisper, “And you take care of your father.”
Sir Eldrick offered the queen his hand, but she moved past it and hugged him instead. She kissed him deeply on the lips and gave a sigh. “Do come back and visit from time to time, both of you.”
“I imagine that the wind will blow us this way once more,” said Sir Eldrick, giving her backside a firm squeeze that left Akitla rolling her eyes and the female guards gasping.
The others said their goodbyes as well, and soon the boat began through the ice flows. Akitla stood at the stern, teary-eyed and waving at her mother, her home, and her people.
“You alright?” Sir Eldrick asked.
“I’m fine,” she assured him with a smile that contradicted her tears.
“Well, it’s about godsdamned time you showed up,” said McArgh from the deck of the Iron Fist. “I was about to launch a search party.”
“No need for that,” said Sir Eldrick as he grabbed ahold of the rope ladder that was tossed down the side of the ship.
McArgh looked past him and smiled when she saw Akitla. “Well, it looks like you’re plus one!” She ogled Akitla with a smirk.
The companions climbed up on deck and the captain got a better look at the exotic princess of Shivermoore.
“Well met,” said Sir Eldrick, offering McArgh his hand. She shook it and offered him a nod before her eyes darted back to Akitla. “This is my daughter, Akitla.”
“It is good to meet you,” said the princess with a small bow.
“And good to meet you as well. You are Sir Eldrick’s daughter, eh? I thought that you might have some human in you.” McArgh glanced at her ladies knowingly. “Got any pirate in you?”
“Don’t answer that,” said Sir Eldrick with a laugh.
But Akitla, not familiar with the joke and looking a bit confused, said, “No, I have no pirate in me.”
“Would you like some?” said McArgh, and the crew all laughed heartily.
“Never mind her,” said Princess Caressa. “She’s got a pirate’s mouth, and a pirate’s mind. But she really is just a big sweetheart.”
“Now don’t be spreading nasty rumors,” said McArgh, and everyone shared a laugh.
“You are half ice elf,” said Ravenwing, who seemed to have appeared from thin air, for none of the companions had noticed her among the gathered crew. “Do you possess their abilities?”
“Yes,” said Akitla, who seemed quite curious of the dark-haired sorceress.
“Good, then I will not waste my magic getting us out of here. I trust that you can clear the ice in front of the ship?”
“Of course. I would be glad to.”
“Excellent,” said McArgh. “Then let’s get the hells out of this frozen wonderland. My nipples have already cut through two blouses!”
Hagus gave a hearty “Bwahaha!” and Akitla looked to Caressa, wide-eyed.
“She’s kidding,” Caressa assured her.
McArgh started barking orders to her lady pirates, and slowly, the Iron Fist began out of the ice-filled harbor. Akitla took to the helm and, using her innate ability to control ice, mentally pushed the jutting clumps out of the way.
Sir Eldrick took the time to speak with the companions alone in their quarters, politely asking the others for some privacy. When they were finally alone, he gathered the companions around him.
“I didn’t have time to say it properly yesterday. And I wanted you all to know how sorry I am for my deception.”
“Ye ain’t got to—” Gibrig started.
“Please, let me say this. I am sorry. I owe each and every one of you my life. There are no excuses for what I did. It was wrong and I know that. Hells, I knew it then, but, well, I have never been a very good person. But I want to be. I want to be like you, for you are true champions, one and all. Thank you for taking me back.”
“You done, you silly nannywiggins?” said Willow, wiping her eyes and taking Sir Eldrick up in a big bear hug that left him unable to breath between her bosom.
“Willow,” he croaked.
“We forgive you, Eldrick.”
“Willow,” he said again, but she was squeezing him so tight that hardly a sound escaped his lips.
“You’re going to crush him,” said Brannon.
“Oh,” she said, sniffling, and let him down.
Brannon hugged him next and laid his head on the knight’s shoulder, weeping. “I was so worried about you, Sir Eldrick. Don’t ever do that again.”
Sir Eldrick wondered if the elf was still drunk, and hi
s face must have shown it.
“What?” said Brannon, releasing him.
“Nothing, it’s just, I love you guys. I hope you know that.”
“We be lovin’ ye too,” said Gibrig, whose tears flowed down his jolly face.
“It wasn’t the same without you, Eldrick,” said Murland.
“Gods! Enough of the waterworks,” said Wendel, and everyone turned to find him lying in a hammock, bony cheeks wet with tears. “I swear,” he said, sniffling. “You are all acting like a bunch of silly women.”
“Aw, shut—” Willow began, but then she looked to Gibrig and smiled kindly. “Get over here, you bag of bones.”
“You mean it?” he said, getting out of the hammock slowly. “Wendel gets a hug too?”
“Hurry up before I change my mind!”
Wendel wasted no time. He scampered across the room and dove into Willow’s arms.
Chapter 10
The Magic of Love
Murland held Caressa tight, though she was strapped to him, and he to Packy. The princess fought to catch her breath as they flew over the blue waters, and it was not the wind that took her breath away, but the exhilaration of flying so high up.
“This is amazing!” she said over her shoulder.
Murland smiled to himself and pulled the straps to let Packy know to dive. Caressa gave a cry that ended in giddy laughter as they leveled out over the water, low enough for her to run her hand across the surface, leaving a widening V behind them.
It had been a week since they left Shivermoore, and they had finally ventured out of the ice flows and into warmer weather. It had been terribly cold in Shivermoore—which turned out to be aptly named—and Murland didn’t even want to imagine how cold it got in winter.
He spotted a small chain of what looked to be uninhabited islands, and an idea—a brilliant, utterly romantic idea—struck him. He pulled his backpack’s straps to the left, which caused a squeak of excitement to issue from Caressa as Packy did a barrel roll. Murland couldn’t help but laugh hearing the princess carry on so. Her arms reached back around her body and his, and she firmly squeezed his buttocks for support. He didn’t think she realized it though, and it made him smile all the more.
The Legend of Drak'Noir: Humorous Fantasy (Epic Fallacy Book 3) Page 7