He unleashed a series of techniques that drove Heronimo against the wall and left his flesh in strips. The elf flicked the blood from his swords and smiled.
“That bit where you spin around and pretend you’re a circular saw? Ridiculous. Doing that on the battlefield is asking to be stabbed in the back. Tell you the truth, dual-wielding isn’t suited for war, where a good shield is better than a secondary weapon. Only in the hands of a duelist or ambush predator do twin blades really shine.”
Heronimo went on the offensive but every attack was intercepted. Worse, each one was met with an attack of its own as Dinendal’s swords wove in and out of his guard. Heronimo would block a sword, only to have the other strike from nowhere. He used the longsword’s reach but Dinendal lunged from odd angles. The elf cut low and the human hobbled away.
“Did I get you in the knee?” Dinendal said, blades twirling. “Sorry. Guess you’re only good for the city guard now.”
Heronimo felt dizzy. His skin was flayed in places and blood pulsed from deep cuts. Still he fought, drawing upon a lifetime of rage. He roared and swung, trying to overpower the elf’s skill. “Just—shut—up—!”
“Uh oh, he’s getting his second wind,” Dinendal said. “As I was saying, while it’s impractical to defend with both weapons, it’s all right to attack with both weapons from two different angles. When you trap an opponent’s limb between two weapons, that’s called a scissor’s technique—”
His swords came together and cut off Heronimo’s left hand.
“—can you guess why? Gentlemen, give the man a hand! He’d join in the applause, but he can’t clap worth a damn!”
The assassin laughed. Bellowing, Heronimo tried to punch Dinendal with the stump, but the elf cartwheeled away, slashing twice. Heronimo’s other hand sailed off the battlements with his longsword.
Dinendal roared with laughter. “This is so much fun! I really must massacre more villages.”
Heronimo snarled. He raised the stumps to his face and tightened the tourniquets with his teeth. He growled, preparing to rush Dinendal. The elf took a step toward him—and the nearest assassin exploded in blood.
* * *
Try biting your wrist. Bite down hard enough to hurt. Bite down until you leave tooth marks in the skin, until you can’t stand the pain anymore.
Now imagine not stopping. Imagine tearing into a hunk of raw meat, the flesh bloody and tough. Imagine that it’s your flesh, that you can feel every one of your teeth as you tear chunks from yourself.
When you eat your own arm, expect pain.
Oh, gods the pain.
I gasped. Slobbered. Forced myself to swallow another mouthful. Fought to keep it down.
Come on, elf!
“I… can’t…”
Come on, ELF.
I fainted several times, but always woke up. Cruix brought me back. Inside my head I wept, but he goaded me on.
Come on, stupid, I’m in pain too but I’m still—nngh—here. KEEP EATING.
I ate the meat, and tore the gristle, and crunched the bones. I ate until I swore I would never eat again.
Naturally, my captors noticed this.
“Is it—it’s eating itself! Like a fox in a trap!”
“Ha! Nobody said dragons were too smart. Let the last of its kind die an animal!”
Nnn… no. I. Will. Not. Nngh.
I must have fainted again, because the next time I woke up the world was on fire.
* * *
Findecano Elanesse swooped out of the sky like a bat with a beard. Robes flapping, Dinendal’s former master brought death wherever he looked. He would glance at an assassin and detonate their heart. The blood flashed to steam and the ribcage exploded, throwing bone shards in all directions. Findecano landed and three assassins rushed him. He summoned wind and threw them at the gates. They hit so hard the inner gate blew outward. A well-placed fireball and the outer gates were down. Armed townspeople streamed in. Royal guardsmen teleported onto the battlements.
It was a good time to run, but Dinendal still had the human to finish off. He looked to where Heronimo had been, but saw only a blood trail.
“Hey, where’d you go? We aren’t done yet!”
He followed the trail. It disappeared up the stairs of the northwest tower.
“You think something there can save you? There’s nothing but catapults! And even if there were weapons, you couldn’t pick them up! Ha ha!”
He sheathed one blade and, sword in hand, began to climb the steps.
* * *
I awoke to a shower of scalding blood. What fresh sorcery was this?
Were my friends still alive?
Now or never. I closed my eyes and reaching inside.
Centuries from now, historians would still argue over this moment. Was this when the elven race began its decline? Was this when the world began to change… for the better?
If I had known what I was setting in motion, would I have continued?
Only hindsight is perfect. In the moment, you act on what you know. I drew upon myself, focusing my entire being on a single point. I called up power from deep beneath earth, where rivers of iron flowed like water. I dipped into the vast molten currents, trying to bend them to my will. I was a leaf daring to steer an ocean.
But I had mind. I had leverage. The air hardened with potential.
Keep going, Cruix said.
With my Sight I visualized my old body. Two arms, two legs, upright posture. Quite attractive to the ladies. I saw its beating heart, saw blood coursing through arteries and veins. I saw the heart resting in a cage of bone. I recalled every system and held it in my mind. I remembered how they worked together.
Keep going.
I looked closer, down to the cellular level. The molecular level. I beheld the basis of heredity and glimpsed the forces behind elven longevity. Elegant, really. Dragons and elves were not so different—and a way to reconcile the two was suddenly clear.
Almost there.
I began to see double. I had turned my Sight inward and built a working model of my own brain, memories and all. It grew in complexity until there were four minds in the same skull—two of me and two of Cruix. At the signal, we pinched off parts of ourselves until only one of each remained.
There. There!
I opened my mouth and vomited fire.
* * *
“Come out, come out, wherever you are,” Dinendal said. He paused. “I’ve always wanted to say that.”
He continued to climb. He did so leisurely, for the steps were uneven by design. Anyone who didn’t know the pattern would stumble if he ran. The staircase was narrow as well, with barely enough room to swing a sword, and only if you were a right-handed defender.
“I am not right-handed,” he said, holding the sword in his left hand. “If your plan was to handicap me that way, you’re shit out of luck. Are you waiting to jump as soon as I get close?”
“You’re close enough,” Heronimo said. There was a sound like thunder and a huge stone ball fell down the stairs.
* * *
I belched fire. It melted the nets and struck an invisible barrier. Pouring into the space, it grew feet, legs, and all the rest.
Plasma transmuted into bone. Burning bone sprouted fleshy worms. The worms twined and twisted, becoming nerves, muscles, organs. Intestines coiled out of ribbons of flame. The brain grew from a single spark. The skull was as transparent as glass.
It was beautiful. It was horrifying. The red-hot man raised his fists and screamed.
Skin appeared on his head, then flowed down the neck and shoulders like a sheet of milk. There was an explosion of steam, and then the body fell to the ground, coughing fire.
I gave a great shudder and felt myself shrink. The barbs popped out, the chains fell away, and my wounds healed over. There was an emptiness in my head—a silence not felt in weeks. I looked at Cruix and realized he was changing into a dragon. I decided I’d done enough and I blacked out.
* * *
Dinendal,
broken and bleeding, lay at the bottom of the stairs. He looked up.
Heronimo hugged a huge stone to his chest. His face was knotted with the strain.
Dinendal tried to move, but couldn’t. “Hey, wait a second,” he said. “You’re taking this kind of personal, aren’t you?”
Heronimo said nothing as he came down the stairs.
“Come on, man, you’re making me nervous. Come on, you can’t do this! Hey! Hey—”
Heronimo dropped the stone on the elf’s head, crushing it. Then, grunting with effort, he picked up the ball again and dropped it a second time. It made less of a crunch. Only when he kicked it aside and saw the pulpy mess beneath did he let himself sigh.
“You killed my mother. You killed my father. You killed my people. We’re through. Do you hear me, elf? I, Heronimo, have taken my vengeance. Our quarrel is done.”
Suddenly weary, he sat down next to the body. He could hear that the battle was over.
“I could use a drink. Can’t wait to raise a cold one with my friends.” He looked at his stumps. “Of course, I’ll need my hands first.”
* * *
“Angrod?” It was Mina’s voice.
“Go ‘way. Sleeping.”
“Master Angrod, seeing how you’ve won the battle, it might be good to get up and face the music.”
“What, are they drumming me out of Corinthe?”
“They want a parade, actually.”
I opened my eyes. Mina was bruised and bloody, but smiling. Meerwen looked happy enough, but she had her arms crossed. My uncle was beaming.
“I did just what you said, young master. I called for help and the Lord Governor teleported all the way from Drystone with a company of royal guard.”
“Damn,” I said. “That is major wizardry.” I looked at the women. “What happened to you two?”
“This skinny elf was stuck in a hole. I had to drag her out by the ankles.”
“It was a tunnel. The fools thought they could imprison an earth mage! I was escaping when this vulgar dwarf ruined it.”
“Hey, this vulgar dwarf saved your life!”
“Ladies, please,” I said. “Hello, Heronimo.”
“Hey, Angrod,” Heronimo said. “I’m getting out of the revenge business.”
“Satisfied your honor, did you?”
“At some cost,” he said, looking mournful. He raised his bandaged hands. “Just got them reattached. Can’t seem to move them. Will I ever hold a sword again?”
“Have I ever told you that your calves lack size and definition?”
“Hey, fuck you!” he said, and made a pair of rude gestures.
“Your middle fingers work, at least.”
“I—thanks.”
“You’ll never believe what I went through!” Mina said. Heronimo and I looked at each other.
“I just fought the greatest swordsman in Brandish. He cut off both my hands before I could kill him.”
“And I chewed off my own arm so I could regurgitate an entire dragon.”
I looked at my right arm, what was left of it. The stump ended just below the shoulder. “Looks like I won’t be getting it back, either. But anyway, you were saying, Mina?”
She stared. “I… you guys are horrible, you know that?”
“No, no, we’re totally interested in your story,” Heronimo said.
“That may have to wait.”
We turned and saw the Lord Governor of Drystone.
“Lord Elanesse,” I said. “Have you come to arrest me?”
Like his daughter, Findecano had his arms crossed. “I thought I was. Yet you rescued Meerwen and uncovered a dangerous conspiracy. What’s more, you don’t seem to be the dragon we’re looking for.”
Cruix stepped forward. He’d been sitting so quietly I hadn’t noticed, even though he was a full-grown dragon. “I take complete responsibility for any deaths I may have caused. I was disoriented after transforming for the first time, but that’s no excuse.” He bowed his great horned head. “I throw myself at the mercy of the court.”
Anything he threw himself at would be crushed, but never mind. It was time to do my part.
“Help me up, Heronimo,” I said, and climbed to my feet. “As bond-brother to the dragon Cruix, I hereby extend my protection and grant him full pardon.”
“A full pardon?” Findecano said. “On whose authority?”
“On my authority,” I said, raising my voice so it carried through the citadel. “I am the last living scion of House Lissesul. I am friend to dwarves and humans, and kin to dragons! I believe there was a prophecy?”
“Where are your manners?” Cruix bellowed. He reared and spread his wings, framing me with his wings. “You are in the presence of the crown prince—ANGROD VENEANAR!”
Five hundred elves were caught in the moment and crashed to their knees. Amid the sound, I turned to Cruix.
And winked.
Epilogue
I awakened slowly, luxuriating in the feather mattress. The light from the windows told me it was close to noon, which was fine. In the royal household, the day begins when I get up.
I slid out of the silk sheets and scratched. Stretched. I was yawning when someone behind me said, “Prince Angrod?”
“Yaaah!” I turned and channeled fire through my arm. Then I saw it was my personal assistant. “Dagonet, don’t do that!”
“Sorry, milord. I thought you’d be awake already.”
“How did you get in? Why didn’t I see you standing there?”
“It was quite a long yawn, milord. Tends to affect the hearing. And I see you’ll need another sleeve.”
I looked at Firescale, my silver arm. Modeled on my left arm, it felt the same and even weighed the same. Black cords of synthetic muscle tightened under the seams, everything working smoothly and soundlessly.
I flexed the fleshless fingers and grimaced. I still wasn’t used to it.
“Will you be wearing the blue sleeve or the green one?”
“You know what, let’s do without any sort of glove today. It’s strange enough having this thing without pretending it’s flesh and blood.”
The arm had been a gift from Mina’s father, the Chieftain of Ironore, partly for keeping his daughter safe and partly as a diplomatic gesture. I wasn’t king yet, but it looked to be in the making.
“Armor-grade silver alloy, runs off an internal crystal battery,” Mina had said, going over the manual. “Four-hundred-pound grip!”
“It’s not going to strangle me if I go against your father, will it?”
“Of course not! Daddy never delegates. If he wanted to strangle you he’d do it himself.”
Things had moved quickly from there. Valandil’s pro-royalist faction had offered their support and, in light of my bargain with Cruix, I had no choice but to accept. It had taken some legal footwork, but we both had our freedom.
Auntie Marilla bustled in with the brunch trolley. Heronimo followed close behind. He was bare-chest and had a towel over his shoulders.
“Good session?” I asked.
“Very good,” he said. “The fencing master says it’ll only take me fourteen years to become competent.”
“High praise,” I said. “He’s not still mad about the groin attack, is he?”
“He has forbidden it in sparring. Although I don’t see the problem. It’s a standard greeting among some of my people. The slower one buys the beer.”
Mina came in, and this time she wore a dress. “I’ve just been in a meeting with the Council of Governors. You were missed. When are you going to start getting up early?”
“Get off my case, woman,” I said, walking to the trolley. “It’s only been weeks since the Battle of the Citadel.”
“That doesn’t mean you can ignore your duties. After all, you claimed them only recently.”
I sighed. To keep Mina from having to return to her father I’d appointed her dwarven ambassador to my court, such as it was. She seemed to be taking it seriously.
�
�Here are my notes,” she said. “Catch up while you eat.”
I sat down on the bed and started on the bread. “I’m to officiate at a diplomatic summit, an arts festival, and a football game?”
“Several football games, actually.”
“What the hell is a constitutional monarchy?”
I thought back to my carefree days in Drystone, when all I had to worry about was ‘prentice work. I remembered Elrond and his fruit wines, the Merchant Quarter and its glittering nightlife. Corinthe was my home but it no longer felt like my playground.
And because everyone seemed to want to talk to me before I’d even washed my face, Cruix popped in. As an elf, he looked exactly like I did except for the hair. “Hey, bro!” he said.
“I’m not your bro. What do you want?”
“I have an excellent idea for a day trip!”
“Not now,” Mina said. “Angrod has things to attend to. He’s not going to have free time for a while.”
Dagonet leaned close. “Meerwen’s been calling. She has some things she wants to say to you.”
“You see, Cruix? It’s not like I don’t have options.”
“But this one is a group outing,” he said. “Fun for the whole party!”
Mina crossed her arms. “I don’t know which is more suspicious, the dragon’s invitation or the Elanesse’s. You can’t possibly think her father doesn’t know of this.”
“Nice-looking lady, though,” Heronimo said. “Probably fun in bed.”
“Did you say something, mister?” Mina said. “Are you unhappy with our current arrangement?”
“It was just an observation,” he said. “Nothing wrong with looking.”
“Ha! I saw the way you were looking—”
“A man’s got eyes—”
“It’d be good sport,” Cruix said, “and perfect for public relations—”
“Guys, SHUT UP!”
They looked at me. I sat on the bed, a bun half-buttered in my hand. “If you’re not going to let me have breakfast, at least have the decency to speak one at a time.”
I gestured at Cruix. “You first. The last time I went anywhere with you, I ended up without an arm. What could you possibly say to get me out of this castle?”
“Wyvern hunting.”
“I’ll get my stuff.”
Stone Dragon (The First Realm) Page 18