“I am not puny,” I said. “Give me some light and some posing oil and I’ll show you beefcake.”
“Angrod, any of these men could break you in half. And while they couldn’t do the same to me, I’ll admit they would be a challenge.”
“The men spend much of their time working on their abs,” said the Witch. “Come to think of it, so do the women. We cultivate our bodies, the better to dance and fight. We are not city elves but our lives are full of beauty.”
“Art is plumage, eh?” I said. “And here I thought you were just party animals.”
The Witch leered. “What better canvas, what better clay, than the artist’s own body?”
“No argument,” I said. “How about you, Heronimo?”
“Er—”
“We have an hour until dinner,” said the Witch, “so make yourselves at home.”
“—oh, good. I could use a chance to breast. Rest.”
* * *
“Before there was the moon, there was the earth. Still molten from the forge it was a naked, red, and lonely world. Nothing lived, for nothing made flesh could survive without oceans or clouds. It was a land populated only by impersonal forces. By gigantic elementals that dwarfed the gods. But there were no gods, back when things were new. It was an age of young planets and blind titans. They danced round the sun and flirted with one another.
“One such titan kissed the earth, shattering both worlds. So violent was the force of their coupling that both were shaken to pieces. Our planet survived, but the titan was destroyed. Had you stood on the earth’s surface you would have seen horizons meet. The slap would have thrown you into the air even as the ground split and the mountains leaped.
“The world spun like a kicked ball. It rained continents.
“Had you survived, you might have found yourself in the ring of wreckage circling the wounded world. Half the rubble gathered, and over several weeks rock fused with rock and our moon took shape. The other half smashed back to earth. This was iron from the titan’s heart. It sank to the planet’s center. This spinning core of molten iron is what throws up the energy that we use in our workings.
“This is the story of the birth of the moon and the origin of magic.”
The storyteller bowed. We all audience applauded. We were in the village square, a platform suspended from four massive trees. Everyone had given something to the buffet table.
“Have you tried these fritters?” Conrad asked. “They’re really good!”
“So is the sap-mead,” I said. I emptied my cup. “No wonder they protect the forest!”
“Where’s Heronimo?” Minos asked. “Wait, I see him… good lord he’s gone native.”
“Woo!” Heronimo said. He wore little more than tassels and face paint. “I am the ultimate warrior! Fear me, evildoers!”
He ran around the platform and balanced on the railings, pumping his fists and flexing his arms. None of the male wood elves could match him for size or definition.
“Everything about me is larger than life! Everything I have… is big.”
“Good lord,” Minos said, coloring visibly.
“Yeah, the mead sneaks up on you,” said the Witch.
Minos was now blushing deeply and I looked closely at the little dwarf. He had a beard, sure, but now that I thought about it—
“Why don’t we get out of here?” asked the Witch. “I’ve got something to show you.”
“I bet you do,” I said. She led me from the crowd and over to one of the trees, where two ropes awaited us. She handed me one and stepped onto the rail. “You sure you can handle this?”
“I’m an elf!” I said. “I get a dexterity bonus too.”
“Okay then,” she said, launching herself off the platform. I followed, realized what I’d done, and screamed.
“Relax!” she said. “Try not to hit anything!”
I screamed louder.
Fortunately the ropes were tied to branches, not tree trunks, so I started to slow halfway through the swing. The Witch reached the next tree, grabbed another rope, and pushed off. I followed with less grace.
“Who takes care of all these ropes?” I yelled.
“Trained monkeys!”
“… Seriously?”
Under the moonlight, we sailed from tree to tree. We swung over the forest floor, sometimes so low our toes brushed the ground. We stepped onto branches, hopped from limb to limb, and ran down bridges of fallen trees. We flew along ziplines, leaped across ravines, and always, sailed from tree to tree.
I don’t know how long we did that—moved effortlessly through the forest. I was lost in the moment, and the moment was movement. There was the moonlight, the forest, and the wind. At some point I found the Witch clinging to me (or was I clinging to her?) and we swung together in endless rhythm.
We took the longest possible route, I’m sure.
When we finally broke apart, we had landed in a tree overlooking a clearing. As we adjusted our clothes I couldn’t help it—I beat my chest and let loose the victory cry of the bull ape. It ululated across the wilderness and stirred up clouds of birds.
“Why do men always have to make a big deal out of it?” said the Witch, shaking her head.
I grinned and wiped sweat from my brow. “It was great. Did we have to go all this way for that?”
“Not really. I just wanted to make it up to you for the mind-reading trick.” She pulled a bow and quiver from a hidden cache.
“Whoa, whoa,” I said, stepping back. “I thought we had something special!”
She smiled. “Look to the clearing.”
There was a ring of standing stones. Sparks jumped from stone to stone.
“A fairy ring,” she said. “My ancestors discovered it. It’s a soft spot between realities—and we’re about to get a visitor.”
“How do you know?”
“I am the Witch of Deepwood. The forest tells me everything.”
“So does a tree make a sound when it falls? Does a bear shit in the woods?”
“Shush,” said the Witch. “Watch.”
The sparks multiplied, arcing among the monoliths like a thing alive. The air smelled of hot copper and my hair stood on end. Energy was building, humming, and I opened my senses to discover their source. Force lines sprang into my Sight and I saw a many-sided whirlpool inside the circle. The entire magic field was turning and churning, preparing for an awesome feat of magic.
Pop.
A spherical area disappeared, instantly replaced by another section of air and dirt—and one more thing. There was a halfling inside the fairy ring. She slumped unconscious in a shiny metal chair.
“Pull her out, Angrod.”
“Why me?”
“Because I said so. Hurry or the ring will teleport you both to a dark place.”
“Are you sure it won’t just return her?”
“Of course. Now go!”
I ran inside the circle. The halfling’s chair had wheels and handles and I realized she was a crippled halfling. I grasped the handles and pushed her out of there.
Just in time too. We’d just cleared the stones when there was a pop and a sudden wind, like a reverse explosion. I shivered. We’d almost been teleported into a vacuum.
“Nice work,” the Witch said. “Now let’s take a look at our interdimensional refugee.”
* * *
The halfling girl was strange, to say the least.
There were synthetic materials in her clothes. Quite ordinary for an elf or dwarf, but halflings preferred homespun. Being nonmagical, they only used natural fabrics. These clothes were better than anything halflings could make, and yet they had seams and stitches. The manufacturers had access to artificial fabrics but knew nothing of tailoring spells that shaped material on a molecular level.
The wheeled chair was made of several parts, like a dwarven product, and it too demonstrated great manufacturing skill. It must have been expensive, though it was unnecessary in Brandish, where even the poorest halfling
could afford elven healing. The girl was paralyzed, it was true, but repairing spinal cords was only a day’s work for a skilled water mage.
Going through her pockets, the Witch found coins and banknotes. I had just begun to examine the foreign money when the girl woke up. She screamed when she saw us. I do not think she had seen an elf before.
The Witch grabbed the girl’s head in both hands. She stared deeply into the halfling’s eyes, which fluttered as the spell took effect.
“Pleasant dreams,” she said, as the girl fell into a deep sleep.
* * *
“Tell me about these fairy rings,” I said to the Witch.
She sat cross-legged in the grass with the girl on her lap. With my Sight I saw the active spell glyphs. She was writing information directly into the girl’s brain, a delicate bit of work, but the elven woman hadn’t even broken a sweat. Somehow she drew strength from the forest. Cruix had said that stone could think. Apparently, so could wood.
“This is the only ring left in Brandish. There are others, but they’re in the barbarian lands. The teleportation happens every few weeks. Usually it’s just a few insects, maybe a bird or field mouse, but sometimes we get a halfling.”
“Just halflings?”
“Don’t you know? Elves, dwarves, and humans are unique to our world. We evolved from a common ancestor, and our common ancestor came from somewhere else. Halflings come from that place.”
“A world of halflings?” I said in disbelief.
“A world without magic. With them as the dominant species.”
I sat down. “That… would make sense.”
In fact, it confirmed my theories about the origins of humanoid life. We did come from elsewhere. The fairy rings were the way. Unfortunately, according to the Witch it was a one-way trip.
The girl shifted in her sleep, then settled down. When she woke she’d speak a little Elvish—about as much as a tourist. She’d also have an abridged guide to Brandish, mostly about things that could kill her if she weren’t careful.
“You must get many of these visitors,” I told the Witch.
“Every few years. The ring was due for it, which is why I brought you. These people arrive confused and scared. We shelter them a few days and then send them on their way.”
“Where do they go?” I wondered. “And what can I do?”
“Most adjust to their new lives and settle down somewhere. Many make their way to the cities, where they try to have normal lives. A few get it in their heads that they’re adventurers and get eaten by wyverns.”
“They never find each other and band together?”
“It’s a big world. Angrod, I’m showing you this because you need to know. I see great things in your future. You will make decisions that will affect not just our people, but also the entire world.”
I scratched my head. “People keep telling me that, but as far as I know I’m still going to die in a few weeks. Can we dispense with the riddles? Just give me the plain truth.”
The Witch smiled. “Once you can see the source of magic, all will be revealed.”
* * *
“Where am I?”
It was dawn. We had allowed the girl to awaken.
“You are in Deepwood Forest. I am the mistress of this place, and this is Angrod Veneanar, gentleman adventurer.”
“How can I… understand? How can I… speak? Oh, right—magic.”
“We will bring you to my village. You can rest there you’re ready to move on. If you’ll step this way?”
“Step…?”
“Take my hand.”
The girl took the Witch’s hand and the elf pulled her to her feet. She gasped, but then her legs steadied. She took a few shaky steps from the wheelchair.
“I… can… walk!” she said, her face lighting up. She took several more steps and grew more confident. “I walk—again!”
She let go of the Witch to walk even further. For a few minutes she enjoyed the use of her legs. Then she frowned. “I’m never… seeing my family again, will I?”
“I’m sorry.”
“I’m… grateful. But… shouldn’t I… sadder?”
“I dampened your emotions, for a time. The grief will come, but gradually.”
“I want to… cry… if you don’t mind.”
“It’s all right,” the Witch said, and hugged her.
I looked away as the halfling had a good cry. They did that a lot, but they were stronger than they looked.
Chapter 16
“Why can’t I go with you?” Conrad asked.
He watched as we loaded supplies into the little sailboat. He’d wanted to help, but I told him to stay close to Sandy, the halfling from another world.
“I can ride, I can shoot, I won’t be a burden at all,” he insisted.
“That’s true,” I said, “but I’ve already got two sidekicks.”
“Hey!” Minos said.
“I thought we were friends,” the boy said, his voice breaking. I sighed and turned to him.
“Conrad, little buddy, this is a life-and-death mission. Once we get on that boat we’re going to be risking our lives again. You’re a tough guy, but it’s too dangerous for you. I will not allow it.”
“But—”
“Not even if you grow a mustache right this moment.”
“A good leader never asks for something he can’t do himself,” Heronimo said. He had a sack over each shoulder but he set them down to clap the boy on the back. “It’s been good to know you, kid, but your mission is to reconnect with your people. You’ve got that girl to take care of.”
“Hmph,” Conrad said. “She’s useless. Can’t ride, can’t fight, can’t even track.”
“She’s an orphan just like you.”
Minos came over and handed Conrad a small purse. From the way it clinked it carried more than a few gold pieces.
“Traveling money,” the little dwarf said. “It’s half my stash, so it ought to last you a while. I also give to you our horses and mules—may they serve you well!”
“Thank you, Minos.”
The dwarf flushed and turned to Heronimo and me. “Well, and where are all the supplies? Come on, we haven’t all day.”
* * *
Meerwen stood in the middle of the ruined halfling village. Her face grim, she scanned the bodies for clues.
Feanaro, her second-in-command, offered his opinion: “Looks like Angrod picked up a pair of killers.”
She looked around to see that no one else was near, then leaned close. “Don’t be a fool, Fen. These halflings may have put up a fight, but from the look of their wounds they were already dead.”
“Forbidden magic?”
“Forbidden water magic. And Angrod only scored average in that area.”
She walked around, tracing the action by the arrangement of the bodies. “It started in this cottage. The human was over six feet tall and massive. He also drew first blood, and the battle spilled onto the street. A savage and undisciplined fighter—the dwarf—killed many here, then dueled the blacksmith. This knot of headless chickens must be where the human was distracted. And these corpses with their heads blown off or caved in, that must have been Angrod.”
“So they were ambushed. Who else is hunting the dragon?”
“I don’t know.” Meerwen frowned. She thought of her father. “But I wonder.”
* * *
The task force tracked Angrod until they reached the bridge to Deepwood.
“Looks all right,” said Feanaro. “Is that a woman?”
Meerwen rode up to the woman, who sat beside the bridge. As the elf drew closer she saw that the woman was crying.
“Good woman, why do you weep? Did you come from the village behind me?”
“I did,” the woman said. “My son and I, we survived the massacre. M-my husband died letting us escape.” She started weeping again.
“I’m sorry,” Meerwen said. She dismounted and offered her handkerchief. “Where is your son now?”
“They took him! An elf, a human, and a d-dirty dwarf! Said they needed someone to look after their mules.”
“Those fiends,” Feanaro said.
“This makes no sense,” Meerwen said, but her lieutenant continued:
“We shall not rest, madam, until we have rescued your baby and brought his kidnappers to justice!” And he galloped down the bridge.
“She didn’t say he was a baby—aw hell.”
They watched the royal knight thunder down the living bridge. Moments later he was pounding back, eyes wide. “How’d you get here so fast?”
“We never left, dumbass.”
“But I just—” and he turned and rode back across the bridge, reappearing minutes later. “Is someone messing with my mind?”
“It wouldn’t take much,” Meerwen said. She picked up a stick and drew a line in the dirt, then bent the line back until it merged with itself. “They cut off the bridge from the other side, doubled it back, and cast an illusion. We’re not getting across that way.”
* * *
We cast off from Deepwood’s western shore and sailed toward the Southern Sea. The plan was to hug the coast, head north, and round the cape at Bone Valley. Ultimately we would make landfall in Corinthe Bay.
The Witch had been prepared to help us on our way, but she hadn’t planned to give us her people’s best boat. That was where Minos came in. Thanks to his purse we were once again well-equipped, and as Heronimo was a skilled sailor the trip went smoothly.
I’d been lucky with my companions. I wouldn’t have gotten as far without the human’s skill or the dwarf’s generosity. Though this adventure would almost certainly end badly for me, it was an adventure nevertheless.
The trip downstream was uneventful, which was a nice change. If we had traveled overland, we probably would have gotten into all sorts of side missions. The only problem was that the way was boring. There wasn’t much to do except drink and play cards.
“Wish we had some women,” Heronimo said. “Hit me.”
I dealt him another card. “Why would you want that?”
“This boat’s a real sausage fest, haven’t you noticed?”
“Can’t say I have. We’re on a quest, not a pleasure cruise.”
Stone Dragon (The First Realm) Page 11