Elven Doom (Death Before Dragons Book 4)

by Lindsay Buroker

“Oh? Are they ignorant on extinct hippos too?”

  This time, Willard’s narrowed eyes were for me. “You know what I mean. They don’t know that much about our operation or what we’re investigating at any given time.”

  “So Freysha or Gondo could be a plant from the dark elves. Or there’s another possibility.” My phone buzzed, and I pulled it out, surprised a message had come through.

  “That they’re very close to enacting their plan and don’t care if we find out about them?” Willard asked.

  Amber’s name popped up on my phone. I started to answer before realizing it was a voice mail. The message had come in while I’d been fighting, or at some random point when there’d been enough reception for it to get through. I’d never heard it ring, so it had probably gone straight to voice mail.

  “Either that, or the scientists stumbled onto their lair and had to be taken care of,” I said.

  “That seems a grim thing to hope for, but it would mean we have more time. If they’re planning to mess with the volcano tonight… I’d hate it if the only thing we can do is start disaster mitigation procedures.” Willard clenched her fist. “I want to prevent the disaster. Before innocent civilians get hurt.”

  When I tried to access my voice mail, the reception flipped from one bar to no service. I hadn’t even moved.

  I hoped Amber had decided she was ready to talk, not that something more dire was happening. Unfortunately, I had no trouble imagining the dark elves, having learned of my daughter’s existence, sending some magical minion to kidnap her.

  “That had better not happen,” I growled.

  “I agree,” Willard said, though we were talking about two different things.

  21

  The injured Corporal Clarke had been picked up, the helicopter pilot promising to return in two hours, but as the clouds grew thicker, wreathing the peak of Rainier and detracting from visibility, I wondered if that would happen.

  My right hip and pelvic area throbbed with each step as I waited for the ibuprofen I’d taken to kick in. Hopefully, if we went into battle again, adrenaline would keep me from noticing the injury. All we were doing now was trekking across the glacier toward the crevasse we’d seen earlier, doing our best to keep from sweating and getting our clothes damp. The temperature had dropped noticeably with the sun blotted out.

  After poking around and agreeing that whatever cave system had existed had been too thoroughly collapsed to reopen, no matter how many explosives we used, Banderas had suggested going to the point where those tracks had disappeared and seeing if I could sense anything from the rim of the crevasse.

  It was the only other lead we had, so it made sense to follow it, but I didn’t like the idea of fighting six more enemies, enemies that could be nearly as large as that golem. They weren’t the ones threatening the people of Puget Sound. I wanted to find the dark elves, capture or kill the two scientists, and destroy whatever device they had concocted to make the volcano erupt.

  Willard, who was walking ahead of me, cleats digging into the ice with each step, kept eyeing those clouds. “The forecast was for clear skies this morning and partial cloud cover in the afternoon and tomorrow. Nothing about rain, snow, or fog that would make helicopter landings difficult.”

  “A weather report that wasn’t correct? In Seattle? How odd.”

  She glowered over her shoulder at me. “They can usually get the short-range forecast right.” She stopped, waiting for me to catch up, and lowered her voice. “Do you think dark elves can control weather?”

  “You know more about their abilities and lore than I do, I think.”

  “There’s not that much about them. Even the other magical species don’t know them that well, at least those I can count on as informants. Elves—surface elves—are intimately familiar with them, or were at one time.”

  “You should have asked Freysha for the scoop on them.”

  “You think I should have asked the person we were accusing of being a spy a half hour ago for mission-critical information?” Willard asked.

  “I haven’t accused her of being a spy. I could have asked her.”

  “Feel free to reach out telepathically.”

  “I haven’t learned how to do that yet, and I think she would be out of range anyway.” A raindrop splashed onto my cheek. “My guess would be a no on weather manipulation. Zav hasn’t mentioned dragons being able to do that—not that I’ve asked—and they’re more powerful than elves. Also, why would dark elves care about the weather if they live underground? Even if it could be manipulated, would they have bothered to learn how?”

  “A good point.”

  “I bet this is just bad luck. And it might clear up in an hour.”

  “True. I do wish I’d had the choppers take us to the crevasse, then go back for the dead, instead of volunteering to march over there on foot.”

  “I do too.” I kept myself from touching my injury, but since we were standing still, I did lean my weight onto the other side. “But Clarke needed medical attention.”

  “He would have been all right. I looked at his injury. That beam burned straight through, cauterizing as it went.”

  “He was writhing and complaining that he was too young to die, having only slept with—what was it?—sixty-eight people.”

  “Eighty-six,” Willard said dryly.

  “I knew it was a large and likely bullshit number.”

  “Yes. As if anything greater than, say, eleven isn’t ridiculous.”

  “I would have said twenty-five, but go on.”

  “Since these are politically correct times, I won’t insinuate that you’re a slut.”

  “Thank you. Can we insinuate that Clarke is?”

  “No, I don’t think that’s allowed either.”

  “The world has become a weird and unfamiliar place.”

  “Tell me about it.” Willard continued onward.

  At least we had come across one of the regularly maintained trails for climbers, so the walking wasn’t as onerous as it had been earlier. But dealing with the injury still had me sweating—and worried people would catch up with me. I hated being the weak link.

  When Banderas thumped me on the shoulder, I thought it would be to tell me I was going too slowly.

  “Good fighting back there, Thorvald,” he said instead. “How can I get one of those swords?”

  “I had to kill a zombie lord for mine.”

  “Where do you find one? A graveyard?”

  “Mine was in a church in Anacortes, munching on the congregation.”

  “So they like islands, do they?”

  “Who doesn’t? If you’re going to eat brains, you should do it with a view.”

  “How about the gun? Reminds me of an Uzi.”

  As we kept walking, I gave Banderas the details on Fezzik and told him about Nin and where he could find her in town. It amused but didn’t surprise me that talk of weapons had brought out the silent sergeant’s chatty side.

  The rain picked up, hammering down in time with the throbbing of my pelvis, so I let Banderas take over the talking. It kept me from glancing repeatedly at my phone, hoping the reception would improve long enough for me to check my voice mail. Banderas went on to explain that he had three kids he was raising on his own, so he didn’t have money to spend on personal weapons; he had to make do with what the army issued him.

  “Maybe after this, Willard will make sure everyone in the office has automatic weapons with magical bullets.”

  “I’d like that.”

  “Say, Banderas, Willard and I were discussing terminology. What would you call a guy who’d slept with eighty-six women?” I supposed some of them could have been men. Dimitri had suggested Clarke had leanings both ways, and he was more in tune with that stuff than I.

  “Lucky?” Banderas offered.

  “Hm, we had other words in mind.”

  A voice spoke into my mind, almost startling me into tripping.

  One of the dragons has returned. It was Liren
a.

  Where are you? I glanced around, half-expecting to see her standing off to the side of the glacier, but even if she had been, I wouldn’t have seen her. The visibility had dropped to half a mile, maybe less.

  Near your domicile in the city. Have you been practicing the patterns I showed you? Your telepathy range has improved.

  I think that’s your range that’s letting us talk. I shouldn’t have been surprised that she could send her thoughts a hundred miles. Zav had spoken to me from Seattle when I’d been in Idaho. Have you changed your mind about coming to help us battle dark elves?

  If she was here to observe me, shouldn’t she observe me battling enemies? Even if she didn’t join in, she could be useful up here. Did she have healing abilities? I drooled a little thinking of the time Zav had incinerated a bullet in my hip and healed me to a hundred percent in seconds.

  I cannot raise my hand against them without creating consequences for my people. They are the only species in your world powerful enough to open portals, portals that could take them to one of the elven homelands.

  She wouldn’t appreciate it if I followed up with, Better there than here. Instead, I asked, A dragon, you said? Is it Zav?

  The male who claimed you?

  Uh, yeah.

  I assume he forced you into that and his attentions are unwanted.

  His healing attentions weren’t unwanted. And… I could no longer say without lying that the rest of his attention was entirely displeasing. Something told me that Lirena, who’d made it clear that she didn’t like dragons, wouldn’t want to hear that.

  He didn’t ask me if I was willing, no. He assumed.

  As dragons do. They’re monsters. The female is the one I sense.

  I stifled a groan. I’d thought that if Zav left, Zondia would also stay off Earth. He had also believed that. And he’d promised to speak with her.

  Had she pretended to cooperate with him, but then come back here at the first opportunity? And if so, why? If Zav wasn’t here with me, what did it matter if I had some magical mark that let others believe I was his mate? It wasn’t as if I could open a portal and go complain to him if someone pestered me.

  The lilac dragon? I asked. Is she the only one here on Earth?

  Currently, yes.

  Is she in the city? Would Zondia have a reason to go bother Amber again? My fist clenched.

  She was. Now, she is flying southeast.

  Toward us? I didn’t manage to stifle the second groan.

  She may change course, but for now, she is flying toward the mountain you are on.

  I tried not to find it disconcerting that Lirena could tell exactly where I was. Are you sure you don’t want to come up here? There may be a dragon to fight, not only dark elves.

  I will consider it. Is there any more instruction I can offer to help prepare you for your battle?

  “We’re not far from the crevasse,” Willard called back.

  I don’t think I have time for instruction. Maybe we can set up a tutoring schedule when I get back. If I survived the mission. Wait, do you know anything about dwarven swords? Like common magical words that are used to activate their powers? I only know one for Chopper.

  Chopper is the name of your sword?

  It’s not the original name. I assume the dwarf master who made it—Dondethor, I was told—called it something else.

  Undoubtedly. The dwarven-made blade that King Eireth—your father—wields has a name that translates to Resplendent Alloy Crafted from the Fire of My Heart. The elven name for it is Moonbeam Gatherer.

  I’ll stick with Chopper.

  If Dondethor was truly the craftsman, try krundark for fire or heat. And keyk for ice. It likely has some specific greater power embedded deep within it, but less generic things are associated with longer and more descriptive terms.

  Like Resplendent Alloy Crafted from the Fire of My Heart? I imagined yelling all that out as I ran into battle.

  Along those lines, yes. Keyk may be particularly helpful if you’re battling a dragon.

  Can you repeat those? I dug out my phone and tapped in the words, spelling them with best guesses. From what I’d learned of activation words, the spelling didn’t matter, but you had to say them precisely, or nothing happened.

  Lirena repeated them, then added, Make sure to memorize keyk. Even though dragons are impervious to almost everything when they have their magical shields up, their scales are weak in general against ice. They are creatures of fire and magma, since volcanos erupt frequently in their native world. They do not like cold climates, and a cold blade will slide into their flesh more easily than one at normal temperature. Dwarves know that and most of the swords they make have an ability to become like ice.

  I wrote down both words to memorize—and try out ahead of time. Enemies rarely paused in battle for one to check one’s notes before attacking.

  Thank you, Lirena. I meant it.

  Certainly. I wish you to be victorious.

  Will I be more likely to be accepted and allowed to visit your world if I am? I had no intention of breaking my neck trying to prove myself to some father I’d never met nor a cousin who’d only recently appeared in my life, but I was curious.

  Our people do admire great warriors who are capable of protecting our citizens and our way of life.

  Think my sword has any special commands that would help against dark elves? I was concerned that Zav’s sister was heading in my direction, but unless she’d grown more hostile since our last meeting—which was possible—the dark elves were a bigger threat.

  It’s possible, but you would have to research that particular blade to find out.

  Where could I do that?

  Taron Morak, the dwarven home world.

  I suppose I can’t take an Uber there.

  What?

  Never mind.

  A hint of something magical brushed my awareness, and I lifted a hand to stop the column behind me. “Willard? Hold up.”

  I closed my eyes, stretching out as far as I could with my senses. Right now, that was farther than I could see with my eyes—the visibility continued to drop as thick clouds rolled in.

  The magic, a tiny hint of it, was under us.

  “You sense something?” Willard asked.

  I pointed downward.

  “A dark elf? A device?” Willard grimaced. “Another golem?”

  “An artifact of some kind, I think. It’s stationary and doesn’t have an aura like a living being. Let me get Sindari back.” I’d dismissed him, wanting to save him for when we truly needed him. This looked like the time.

  As I summoned him, Willard radioed one of the pilots, asking about weather conditions, how far out they were, and if they thought they’d be able to return for us tonight. We’d brought gear enough to spend a couple of nights up here, but the idea of camping out next to a bunch of dark elves who might get active once the sun went down was more chilling than the pervasive ice.

  I sense magic, Sindari reported as soon as he formed.

  Me too. Can you tell what it is? And where it is? I sense that it’s below us, but I’m not sure how far below.

  On the ground under the ice.

  And how thick is the ice? Thick, I feared, but I hoped his superior senses would have a less vague idea.

  Five hundred feet? Perhaps more.

  “Thorvald?” Willard had finished the radio call and was looking at me.

  “Are the glaciers five hundred feet thick here?” I asked, hoping that geologist she’d spoken to had told her differently.

  Standard climbing ropes were shy of two hundred feet. We could go down in stages, but I’d been envisioning an easy rappel to the bottom of that crevasse to see if there were any cave entrances. I don’t know why I’d been envisioning that. Nothing about this mission had been easy yet.

  “Here?” Willard pointed down. “I don’t know about this precise location, but Emmons Glacier is supposed to be close to a thousand feet thick near the White River Campground.” S
he waved, presumably toward wherever that campground was on the mountain.

  “Well, we sense magic, and Sindari thinks it’s under the ice, five hundred feet down.”

  Perhaps more, he corrected.

  “At least five hundred feet.”

  “Let’s take a look at this crevasse. We can rappel down five hundred feet if it goes all the way to the ground, but we’ll need to consider it carefully and the possibility of being attacked in the middle of a descent. We’ll also have to climb back up afterward.” Willard pulled out her phone to check the time. “It’s gotten dark with the clouds, but it’s still only one. Sunset isn’t until almost 8:30 today. Can we assume they won’t attack us before dark?”

  “If it’s dark down there, the sun won’t bother them. And even if they’re sleeping, we’ve already seen that their minions have no trouble operating in daylight.”

  It is possible that’s another golem, Sindari added, not yet activated and emitting its full magical signature.

  “Sindari thinks we might be sensing another golem.” I glanced back.

  The rest of the soldiers had caught up and were listening.

  “At least we know how to fight those now,” Willard said.

  “Yeah, point Thorvald and her sword at it,” Banderas said.

  Lucky me.

  While we were all together, I gave Willard and the others the information Lirena had shared—that Zondia was on her way. Willard swore, but then shook her head and said it wouldn’t change what we had to do. I hoped she was right and that Zondia didn’t intend to interfere.

  “Thorvald,” Lieutenant Sabo said, “if you have more of those grenades and want to distribute them equally among us, that could help.”

  “We’re not throwing grenades under a glacier,” someone else said. “Not if we’re all down under it too.”

  Willard lifted a hand. “Let’s scout the crevasse first. If we do send a team down, we’re not all going. Some of us have to stay back.”

  “To mount a rescue?” I worried that another golem was the least of the trouble we would face down there. “Or to point the helicopter crew toward where the next batch of bodies will be?”

  “To cover our backs and rescue us if needed, yes.” Willard didn’t mention bodies. Maybe mission commanders were required to employ positive thinking.