Elfshot

by M. H. Bonham

  The dragon, himself, was about sixty feet long by my estimate. He lay on a well-worn rock floor, which looked as if he had carved gouges out of the rock with his talons. Black and shiny like obsidian, he was typical for European dragons with four legs. His two bat-like wings folded back, but hung loosely as if someone had pinioned him. If they had, he would never fly again. Still, a dragon his size with his fire could easily destroy an army, let alone the little band of Elves I was with.

  He looked uncomfortable, and as I gazed at his front legs, I could see why. Someone had chained him to the ground and used magic to do it. Runes covered the fetters, chains, spike, and the floor where the spike had been driven into. A dragon this big would be able to break chains even this formidable, but with magic bindings, he appeared powerless.

  He opened his eyes and met my gaze. His red eyes had slitted pupils like those of a cat or a lizard. He snuffed the air once. Little mage, you are not what you appear. Nor are your Elven warriors behind you.

  So much for the Ignore Me spell. I thought it would work on dragons, but apparently not. I was tempted to lie to the dragon and deny we were anything but Drow, but I suspected he had no love for his captors. “Why are you chained down here?”

  The dragon turned his head and gnawed on the fetters. His skin was raw from his chewing and his foreleg looked inflamed from chaffing. I am their next armor harvest.

  I stared. “That’s barbaric to use a sentient being like cattle.”

  To them, I am cattle. I will be sacrificed in a fortnight and provide meat for the Drow.

  “Are there other dragons?”

  No, they captured an egg nest and I am the last of my siblings.

  Garik and the others came out of the tunnel. Garik shook his head. “I heard your conversation. Don’t be so horrified; the Dark Elves have been killing dragons for armor for millennia.”

  I pointed to my armor. “How did we get this?”

  “The dragonscale? Spoils of war. We keep an armory with their weapons and armor so we can infiltrate them.”

  Silvar shook his head. “The only worthwhile Drow is a dead Drow.” He glanced at me. “Present company excepted, of course.”

  “I’m not a Drow.” I glared at the Light Elf. “I just happen to have unfortunate ancestry.”

  “Fortunate enough for us.” Garik glanced at the dragon. “What do you want to do?”

  I turned to the dragon. “What’s your name?”

  Firedrake-Black-215, the dragon intoned.

  My heart lurched. “They didn’t even name you?”

  Food is not given a name.

  I closed my eyes as I thought about what I knew about dragons. Most dragons had two names, even my close dragon friend, Smog. Dragons on Earth received their true names from the Immortal Sky Dragon when they first flew; their parents gave them their common names.

  Smog’s parents didn’t like him that much, so they gave him the name Smog. Smog told me the Immortal Sky Dragon had given him a glorious name because his parents were so mean, but since it was private, he wouldn’t tell anyone. That name could be used in summonings, curses, and other forms of magic, which made it dangerous for a dragon to give out his true name.

  I wondered if this dragon even had a true name since he couldn’t fly. And if he could’ve flown when he was younger, would the Immortal Sky Dragon even be here in this world of collided universes?

  “I’m going to free him,” I announced.

  “Are you crazy?” Silvar asked. “He’s feral and raised like cattle. He’ll kill you if you even approach. He looks like he hasn’t eaten for days.”

  “He’ll tear us apart if he gets loose.” Another member of the team, Palan, spoke up. The other Elves agreed with him.

  Lastly, Garik raised his hand to quell the objections. He turned to me. “Why do you think this dragon would spare us if you freed him?”

  “He hasn’t killed us yet.” I looked over the dragon. Despite his impressive size, I could see ribs through his scales. Apparently, the Dark Elves didn’t feed him well. Whether it was insane cruelty or whether they didn’t have the means to feed something this big, it didn’t matter. Here was a sentient being that needed help.

  Garik looked askance at me. “They’ll bring the whole army down here to combat it.”

  “That’s a fortunate by-product, yes.”

  “I see.” Garik nodded. “You’re hoping to keep the Drow busy while we destroy everything in the lab.”

  “Exactly, and as an added bonus, our friend here will go free.” I paused and looked at him. “I think a dragon in the Drow tunnels would be a lot like a bull in a china shop.” I turned to the dragon. “We need to find the lab where they create the diseases. If I let you go, can you create a big diversion to keep them busy?”

  The dragon nodded. I am quite hungry—I smell food in the upper caverns.

  “Good.” I walked over to the fetters that bound him. He watched closely as I studied the cuff on his leg. I thought I’d have to nullify the ward runes that strengthened the fetters, but on reading the runes, I realized the bindings were made to strengthen the metal and chain to prevent something as big as a dragon tear it apart. It didn’t change the release mechanism.

  Even though I had a spell for picking locks—something I learned that I thought would come in handy since I hated busting down peoples’ doors as a cop—I was relieved to see it was a simple pin that ran through the cuff, attaching it to the chain. “Aperta!” I focused on the pin.

  The pin slid out and the cuff popped open. It fell with a rattle onto the ground. For several long moments, the dragon examined his leg and tested it by putting weight on it. He turned to look at me. Thank you. Do you have a name for me, wizard?

  I stared. “You want me to name you?”

  Yes, unless you feel I am unworthy.

  I studied the black dragon; he was a total mess. He had scales missing along his legs, he was bony from no food, and although he was an impressive size, he probably couldn’t defeat another dragon half his size due to his poor care. It was now obvious he could not fly. A pile of dung lay not far from him and it looked like he had gotten a fair amount on him, despite his attempt at being fastidious. The Drow rats, on seeing the dragon away from the shit, scurried over and started in on what had to be a mega-feast for them. Even with all the issues, I could see the dragon had extraordinary potential. I felt a surge of magic pulse through my veins and for a moment, everything other than the dragon disappeared. I name you Darkfire. I surprised myself by speaking in mindspeak instead of out loud.

  The dragon nodded. Darkfire. It is a noble name. With that, he turned and limped into a large hallway that led upward to the Dark Elves’ underground city. I watched Darkfire leave and turned to Garik. “Do we have any ideas where the laboratory might be?”

  Garik nodded. “We managed to capture one of Vindar’s officers in a raid. He was able to tell us where the lab was and the less guarded entrances. Our interrogation got us this far, though he failed to tell us about the dragon.”

  “Drow are crafty, even under spells and torture,” Silvar remarked.

  “Wait a second—torture?” I rounded on Garik. “Your people tortured the Drow?”

  Garik looked uncomfortable. “It’s not something we’re proud of, but it’s the only way to ensure we have good information. What we do is nowhere near as vicious as what the Dark Elves would do to us if the roles were reversed.”

  “And they have been reversed on several occasions,” Silvar remarked. “You lose a fair amount of compassion for them when they strike you with pain sticks.”

  Garik winced and turned away. I looked into each warrior’s face and their stoic expressions. I turned back to Garik. “You’ve been a Drow prisoner?”

  Garik said nothing.

  Silvar tapped me on the shoulder. “We’ve all been.”

  I blinked. “What happened?”

  “Don’t ask,” Silvar said.

  Garik said nothing as he led us through the dra
gon den and into one of the smaller tunnels. It wasn’t long before we heard Darkfire’s roar echo through the tunnels as well as what sounded like screaming. “Come on—we don’t know how long he’ll be able to keep them entertained.”

  Despite the oppressive heat, we ran down the tunnel, hoping we’d be able to find the lab before the Dark Elves figured out it was a distraction.

  Chapter Twelve

  Garik led the way through the entire tunnel complex. I couldn’t figure out how he could find his way through what felt more like a maze than an actual underground residence. Surprisingly we attracted no attention with our running. That was probably because Darkfire had raised an alarm and we passed many Drow soldiers who were also running, both toward the dragon and away from it.

  As we ran, I noted the people who lurked in the shadows. Children wearing little more than rags played in little cubbyholes, their bodies emaciated and filthy. Women who watched us as we passed looked starved as well, with hopeless expressions on their faces. I saw several women, but one woman in particular stuck in my mind, who looked old and haggard. The woman I remembered clearly had her face creased with wrinkles and her dark hair had grayed to the point where it looked white. Her dark eyes met mine for an instant and spoke of so much sadness and pain, I stopped. The Light Elves faltered, on seeing me stop, but I ignored them. I heard her words in my head.

  Help us. We were once a great people, but no longer.

  “Come on.” Garik touched my shoulder. “We’ve got to go.”

  I glanced at my cohorts. I wondered if they had heard her too or if she had only directed it to me. I grimaced, gave her a curt nod that could’ve meant anything, and followed the Light Elves.

  Eventually, we had to slow down. I’m in pretty decent shape, fitness-wise, but compared to the Elves, I was a slacker. Garik slowed the team down so the weakest link of the group could catch his breath. “How in the hell could Vindar and the others allow this to happen?” I said as we walked.

  “Vindar is a warlord,” Garik said. “He does not rule over the Drow.”

  “Who does?” I asked. “Maybe we can talk some sense into them.”

  “Nobody rules the Drow,” Silvar said. “They have scattered chieftains, but nobody speaks for the Dark Elves. That’s why they’re a little more than animals. Present company…”

  “Shut up, Silvar.” Garik halted and turned around, his fists on his hips. “Ironspell isn’t to blame for his ancestors.”

  Silvar glanced at me. “He’s Drow if he has Drow ancestry.”

  “I also have Light Elf ancestry.” I glared at Silvar. “Does that make me a Light Elf, too?”

  Silvar raised an eyebrow. “Eir said nothing about that.”

  “Maybe she was too embarrassed to tell you. I’m not particularly proud of it, given the way your people hate your cousins.”

  “They’re not my cousins.” He bristled and his hand strayed toward his sword’s hilt.

  “Really? Because I don’t see much difference, other than skin and hair color.”

  “Why you!” Silvar leapt at me, sword drawn.

  “Stay back!” Garik shouted to the other Elves, who already had their hands on their hilts.

  I drew my Glock and pointed it at Silvar’s face. “Don’t bring a knife to a gunfight. Ever watch Indiana Jones?”

  Silvar glared. “We aren’t the same as Drow.”

  “That’s not what it looks like over here. Prove I’m wrong.”

  Silence ensued. Seconds ticked by into minutes. I kept my weapon aimed at his face. Silvar sheathed his sword.

  I lowered the Glock. “That’s better.” I met Garik’s gaze. “Let’s get this thing done.”

  ~ * ~

  The tunnels eventually twisted upward and we made our way toward what looked like a newer section of the tunnels. Here, we passed by more Drow guards than I ever wanted to see. The ragged noncombatants didn’t occupy the tunnels we now walked through. Whether it was because it was Vindar’s domain, or whether it was because some other awful danger lurked here, I didn’t know. I kept switching from my normal sight to my magical sight because something felt wrong here. Well, more wrong than walking in a hot underground tunnel near magma on a planet that had crashed into another planet, disguised as an enemy, and in a tunnel full of enemy soldiers. Yeah, more wrong than that.

  I guess wrongness is subjective.

  I glanced at Silvar and the other Light Elves. I could see hatred in their eyes, but they did their best to not challenge me or stare me directly. To them, I was the enemy. Even though I was human, it didn’t matter. I had the genetics of a Dark Elf lurking in my DNA, which meant to them I was a Drow and screw all the human DNA which made me…well, human. Sure, I had some DNA from a distant Drow ancestor—enough to fool the spells, but not enough to give me pointed ears, gray skin, or a lifespan that was, in essence, immortal. And right now with the prospect of getting killed, I guessed that the Elves here were as long lived as I was, if we didn’t make it out alive.

  Odd that the only Elf who didn’t seem to consider me an enemy was Garik. Maybe because he was in charge and more disciplined, or maybe because he actually liked me. I doubted it was the second because old hatreds seldom die. You figure if Elryn killed Drow in cold blood after we incapacitated them, it was unlikely Garik or any other Light Elf here would behave differently. After all, the Drow had tortured them. Right now, Garik looked agitated, most likely due to Silvar’s confrontation. But surely he expected that? Light Elves hated all things Drow.

  My mind went back to Elryn. I wondered if she was even alive now since she most likely refused the genetic modifications. How many Light Elves would die from refusing treatment? Assuming the treatment even worked.

  I glanced at Garik’s aura again. To my surprise, the dark spots had spread across the edges of his aura and dripped down through the dark green. Something was wrong. Very wrong.

  Garik pulled us over when we came to a crossroad in the tunnels. “Listen,” he said. “The laboratory where they make the Elfshot is down that tunnel. We can get in there are destroy it before more of Vindar’s troops show up and use it against us.”

  “What’s the plan?” I asked. I invoked a light orb and flipped open the grimoire in the hopes I might see something that would give me an edge.

  “As I said, we go in, destroy the plague they’ve concocted, and then go find Vindar.” Garik drew his sword. “Let’s get going.”

  “That’s it?” I grumbled under my breath. “Not much of a plan.” I refreshed the Ignore Me spell on everyone and then quietly muttered another spell from the grimoire as our group followed Garik. Something felt definitely wrong, but I had no allies here other than Garik. And Garik still looked agitated as though something gnawed on his mind. I didn’t say anything, just continued to keep up, and kept looking around. To my surprise, the spell was good—really good—but I had to keep moving to be sure I didn’t get out of range.

  We hadn’t gone 50 yards when we came to a door. Garik turned to me. “Can you open it?”

  I closed my eyes and focused on the door. Sweat beaded along my hairline and rolled down my face with the effort it took to hold four spells active. The Air Conditioner spell started waning and the Ignore Me spell felt in tatters as I focused on keeping the third spell active and cast the open spell. “Aperta ergo ianua clausa.”

  “Are you okay?” Garik asked.

  “Yeah,” I said, still sweating like an Orc running a marathon. Actually, I wasn’t okay, but if he caught on, it would blow my cover. “Just takes a lot to keep us climate controlled and keep people looking away from us.”

  Actually that was a lie. The Ignore Me spell and the Air Conditioning spell were easy, even together. It was the grimoire spell that took quite a bit of energy.

  Four spells running at the same time was a record for me.

  The door swung open and we all walked in.

  Blinding light lit up the chamber where we stood. As my eyes adjusted, I saw Drow soldiers surroundi
ng us. They aimed their arrows and spears at our faces.

  Vindar swaggered out from behind his men. “Good job, Garik. I’m glad you’re back.”

  “What? Garik?” Silvar turned to their leader.

  Garik struggled but something held him fast. I glanced at his aura, finding it a roiling mass of black and green. Garik’s face was a mask of pain as he struggled against invisible bonds. “I…I could…couldn’t stop.”

  Vindar took a spear from one of his men and casually walked up to Garik. “We missed you, Garik. I’m glad our little spell brought you home.”

  “Asshole.” Garik spat.

  “Now, now, don’t get tetchy. You know you’re just as much a Dark Elf as we are. Or, as you call us, Drow.” He made a face as though the word was a slur.

  “I…am…not Drow.” Garik gritted the words through his teeth.

  “No, not completely, or we never would’ve had such a perfect operative.” Vindar smiled wolfishly as he pointed his spear at me. “And you, Ironspell. Who would’ve known you had Dark Elf blood? I’m truly surprised that your Dark Elf ancestor went slumming.”

  “Apparently trying to improve the gene pool,” I remarked. I noticed that none of the Light Elves had moved, meaning that Drow magic had anchored them to the ground. I dropped the Ignore Me and Air Conditioning spells and stretched out my senses. Tiny tendrils wrapped around my body trying to keep it anchored. I snorted at the audacity in trying to chain a magic user. Maybe I wasn’t a wizard yet, but damn it, I was an Ironspell and a Cabas. Their attempts at tying me down were pathetic.

  “Really?” Vindar said, thinking I snorted at my own statement. “You think that breeding with a lesser creature like a primate would be a step up for us? How long do they live? Fifty? One hundred years? The amount is pathetic.”

  “Wizards live around three hundred or more years. Unless they do something heroic, like my dad did before I was born. You know, I could see why he banished all Dark Elves from Colorado. You guys are total pricks.”