Secrets of the Sword 2 (Death Before Dragons Book 8)

by Lindsay Buroker

  “No,” Willard said, even as I thought a sword-shaped bouquet would be cool. I wondered if it was possible.

  “I don’t know if you can do that with flowers,” I said, “but I bet we could get a sword-shaped cake. There’ll be a dessert, right, Willard?”

  She lifted the remote and fast-forwarded to dessert being brought out on small plates. “My niece had individual tiramisu cups served to all of her guests.”

  Judging by Zav’s expression, he was even less impressed by the delicacies than I was.

  “Dragons will not eat sweets,” he said.

  “More for the rest of us,” Willard said.

  Zav gripped his chin and contemplated me. “We could shape one of your meat cubes in the likeness of a sword.”

  “That is technically true,” I said. “As long as they fit in the smoker.”

  “Meat cubes?” Willard touched a hand to her chest. So that was what the word aghast looked like on a person.

  “Meat loaf,” I explained. “Without bread crumbs. He keeps forgetting what they’re called.”

  “Why don’t you just leave the planning to me? Here, I’ll leave the video for you. Maybe you two can watch it together and see what weddings are supposed to look like. Good luck on your trip.” Willard grabbed her exercise jacket and headed for the door. “Don’t piss off a dwarf king and get humans blacklisted from visiting their world.”

  She paused to send a worried frown in my direction, and I could tell that she’d gone from joking to worrying that such an outcome was possible.

  “I’ll be circumspect and polite,” I promised.

  “You know how to do that?”

  “Sure. My mom taught me when I was sitting on the naughty step.”

  Willard’s you-are-extremely-strange expression was different from Amber’s but equally interpretable.

  “A dwarf king should be honored to serve the mate of a dragon,” Zav said. “I will ensure it.”

  “Don’t let him get us blacklisted either.” Willard pointed at Zav, then walked out.

  “It is unlikely that humans will be invited to Dun Kroth under any circumstances,” Zav informed me.

  “We’re already blacklisted, huh?” I checked my phone to make sure nobody important had messaged me and was putting it back in my pocket when it buzzed, not a text but a call. “Hey, Mom,” I answered, worry dropping into my gut like a rock.

  I remembered how the elven assassin had made a point to let me know with his coin placement that he knew where my mother lived. What if this half-dwarven thief had also learned where she lived and threatened her in some way?

  “Val,” Mom said, sounding a touch shaken. “You didn’t tell me the elves would be at your wedding. You didn’t tell me he was coming.”

  “King Eireth? How’d you find out? Did he come to see you?” I grimaced, imagining how hard it would be for her to see Eireth looking exactly the same as he had when they’d been lovers, while she’d aged more than forty years.

  “One of his scouts came to question me. He just left.”

  I hadn’t expected that. Now I felt bad that I hadn’t warned her, but how could I have known Eireth would send a scout? And why now? The wedding was months away.

  “What did he want?” I asked.

  “To ask me questions. I… got the feeling he was doing a preliminary security check. To make sure it would be safe for Eireth to come to Earth.”

  “And he checked you? Mom, half the ogres and trolls from the coffee shop are threatening to come, not to mention Zav’s family, if he can get them to. What does he think a barefoot woman in her seventies is going to do?”

  “I just turned seventy, Val,” she said tartly.

  “Doesn’t that make you in your seventies?”

  “No. In your seventies refers to someone of seventy-five or six. Much older than me.”

  “My apologies, Mother. You are clearly still middle-aged.” I nobly resisted adding the line for a tree. “Did you pass the interview? Did he say if he would be interviewing the ogres at the coffee shop that Zav invited?”

  “Why would your dragon invite ogres?”

  “He’s inviting everyone. He seems quite pleased to let the world know that we’re getting married in the human way.”

  Zav lifted his chin. “Yes. Your employer also informed me that it is typical for guests to bring wedding presents.”

  I stared at him. “Is that why you’re inviting everyone? What kinds of presents could you possibly want? You’re an all-powerful dragon who can use his magic to poof things into existence.”

  “The ogres may bring interesting prey to hunt. The goblins may build a bubbling hot-water box for our domicile—you have not acquired one for us on your own yet. One of the trolls is a cobbler and has noticed my interest in human footwear. He may know how to satisfy a dragon’s preferences more than a human shoe peddler.”

  I made a mental note to go hot-tub shopping before Zav could ask any goblins to make one for us. I’d already seen what their handiwork created. I refused to sit in water heated by open flames.

  “Val,” Mom said quietly, the tartness replaced by something less certain. “Do you truly think Eireth will come? I… know he is married now and there won’t be anything between us, but… I don’t know. I would like to see him, but I’m also apprehensive about seeing him. Does that make sense?”

  “Yes. I think he’ll come. Once, he offered to wed Zav and me in the elven way. It’s too bad he can’t do it in the human way. I’d rather have him than Willard’s priest who officiates over quirky weddings. I have no idea what that means, but he can’t possibly have experience with dragons, ogres, and trolls.”

  Eireth wouldn’t bat an eye at ogre or troll guests; I was positive.

  “You wish your father to wed us?” Zav asked.

  “I don’t think that would work. It might be legitimate in the eyes of other elves, but here on Earth, you have to have be ordained.”

  “How does one become ordained?”

  “Uhm, good question. Probably by being a citizen of Earth first.” I ran an internet search while Mom murmured worried sentences about how disappointed Eireth would be to see how old she’d gotten, and what if his wife was snooty and rude to her? Maybe she shouldn’t come at all.

  The mutterings were more to herself than to me, but I tried to be encouraging. “He’s a king, Mom. He’ll be diplomatic and friendly and give you a big hug. I’m sure of it.” I decided not to mention that the wife was snooty and rude, or had been when she’d considered me a suspect in the poisoning of Eireth. With luck, she wouldn’t come.

  “I hope so,” she said. “I do want to see him. I think.”

  “He’ll want to see you.”

  “Oh, I don’t know about that.”

  “Trust me. He likes you a lot more than me. I’m mouthy and weird. Just ask Amber.”

  “She’s already informed me of that.”

  “Imagine that. Bye, Mom. Let me know if anyone else shows up to pester you in your cabin in the woods.”

  After she hung up, I read the search results. “In Washington, any ordained or licensed clergyman or justice of the peace may officiate a wedding.”

  “A clergyman is a religious leader?” Zav asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “King Eireth is a religious leader among the elven people.”

  “There’s not going to be a checkbox for the elven religion. I suppose we could just fill out a marriage application online ahead of time and then it wouldn’t matter who officiated. I haven’t quite figured out how we’re going to explain your… nationality.” I studied his face. “Can you make yourself a fake ID?”

  He tilted his head.

  “Never mind.” I put my phone away and patted him on the chest. “Let’s go find some dwarves. The sooner we find Chopper’s secrets, the sooner I can come back and figure out how to make you a sword-shaped meat loaf.”

  His face brightened. “Excellent.”

  11

  A smoky brimstone sc
ent taunted my nostrils, and I started sneezing as soon as we passed through the portal into Dun Kroth. Not a good sign. I’d packed my inhaler and a first-aid kit—this time, I’d also remembered a winter coat, since legions of fantasy novels had educated me on the fact that dwarves lived in the mountains—but if I had an asthma attack, I was a long way from a hospital. Zav would take care of me to the best of his abilities, but dragons seemed better at healing punctures and gashes than ongoing medical issues.

  You didn’t accidentally bring us to a volcano world, did you? I asked silently as Zav flapped his wings, the portal fading behind us.

  He banked, giving me an alarming view of craggy peaks, tree-filled canyons, and a tiny river far, far below. I gripped his scales as tightly as I could from the broad expanse of his back. He’d warned me that we would arrive in the air, but I hadn’t imagined it being quite so high in the air. Or that one of the nearby peaks would be emitting plumes of smoke.

  I did not, but the mountain ranges that run across great swaths of Dun Kroth contain many active volcanos. The intermittent foulness of the air is one of the reasons that the dwarves burrowed tunnels, using magic to filter out the gases and protect their lungs as they built their cities underground. We are fortunate to come during an epoch when the air is much improved.

  If you say so. I bet elves don’t visit a lot.

  This is true. Dragons are sturdy and do not mind a little ash and brimstone in the air. We find it invigorating.

  And yet my air fresheners for the Jeep turn you green.

  They are repugnant.

  Zav flew down the back side of a mountain and into a canyon. The trees were a normal shade of green, unlike the oddly colored ones on the elven world, but they were short and squat. I didn’t see anything like the towering pines or firs of Washington.

  We soared low over a stream trickling between the trees and past a clearing dotted with stone houses that looked like something Fred Flintstone would have built. Tangles of briars and brush hugged their walls and overran the paths in a way that would have made me suspect the place was abandoned even if my senses hadn’t told me that nobody magical was around.

  Zav flapped his wings to take us out of the canyon and flew across a scree-covered slope at the base of a mountain. A beautiful road built with stone blocks wound toward an archway in the side of the cliff.

  “Tolkien must have spent a couple of summers here,” I murmured.

  Definitely not the winters. Even with a white-yellow sun shining through the hazy smoke from the volcanos, there was little warmth. Frost glinted in the shadows.

  Stone doors sealed the archway, and tufts of broad-leafed grass stuck up between the pavers here and there. As with the village, it seemed like the dwarves had abandoned this place months, if not years, ago.

  I can sense the dwarves deep within this mountain. Zav landed on the road, facing the double doors. I have informed them that the great Lord Zavryd’nokquetal is here and requires they send an enchanter to speak with us.

  “Requires it, huh?” I patted his scales and slid off his back, landing harder than I expected. “That’s sure to work.”

  Unfortunately, my own senses didn’t extend far enough for me to detect anyone inside the mountain. I’d seen a few small animals skittering through the leaf litter under the trees, but so far, this entire world seemed abandoned to me. Abandoned and strange. Aside from the pervading brimstone odor, the air was thick and heavy.

  No, I realized, jumping a couple of times and coming down hard. Not the air—the gravity.

  On the elven home world, it had been close enough to Earth’s gravity that I hadn’t noticed it. This was a different story, and I made a mental note that my arms might grow fatigued quickly in a sword fight. Would I be able to swing Chopper as fast as usual? I dredged through my memories of heavy gravity explained in science-fiction novels, but the authors had rarely brought up sword fights.

  Do you have an alternative plan? Zav asked.

  I walked up and knocked on the door.

  I tried that already.

  “Yes, but you’re a fearsome dragon. They would be foolish to answer the door for you. I’m a charming half-elf.”

  You are more likely to vex them than charm them.

  “Only if they prove themselves our enemies. Or say something that requires ridicule.”

  They have not responded to me at all.

  I rested my hand on the cool stone and gripped my lock-picking charm with my other hand, willing the magic to open the doors. I didn’t expect it to work—Zav’s magic was far more powerful than any of my charms, and he’d surely tried this—but it would tickle me if it did.

  I already tried that, Zav informed me dryly. Ancient dwarven masters enchanted the doors long ago, perhaps the very ones who worked with smiths to make the dragon blades.

  “I’d like to talk to them then.” The doors didn’t budge—I didn’t see hinges and wasn’t even convinced that they were legitimate doors instead of slabs of granite placed to permanently bar the way.

  Zav let out a long breath, the dragon equivalent of a sigh. That would be ideal. I do not know why they have ensconced themselves in their mountains and will not answer the summons of even a Stormforge dragon. My kin and I are known to be reasonable.

  For dragons, I thought but didn’t share. “The fae queen said Mount Crenel is where my sword might have been forged and that there are caves and temples inside that might hold information. Can you take me to that mountain?”

  I have heard of Mount Crenel, and that there are tombs among the temples and also that there is a repository of knowledge, so that is a logical place to check, but I am not certain which mountain it is. The name is from dwarven lore, not dragon lore.

  I took that to mean that one dwarven mountain looked like another to a dragon.

  I have flown over the various mountain ranges of this world a few times, and I can make some guesses, Zav added.

  As I returned to his side to climb on his back again, he spun around, almost whacking me with his tail. His back stiffened as he peered toward another mountaintop, his nostrils quivering.

  “Problem?” I stayed crouched low in case the tail whipped around again.

  Whatever he saw or sensed, he was on full alert.

  I sense powerful creatures flying this way.

  “Flying? Like dragons?” I drew Chopper.

  They are not dragons. They are not… Climb on my back.

  “No offense, Zav, but I’d be more comfortable fighting from the ground.”

  There are many of them. We will need to find a defensible place to face them. Climb on now.

  He levitated me in the air before I could say anything else. It was just as well. I didn’t want to argue further, not when he was worried about whatever it was. I couldn’t remember ever seeing him worried about anything. Dragons were the supreme predators in the Cosmic Realms.

  Weren’t they?

  Zav sprang into the air and, instead of flying in the opposite direction of the approaching threat, flew toward it. He didn’t soar straight toward the mountaintop but stayed low and headed for that canyon we’d passed. As he tilted his snout downward to fly into it, I sensed the creatures for the first time.

  A creepy graveyard chill came over me, reminding me of the touch of the invisible fingers in the artifacts room. But this couldn’t be related to that, could it? We weren’t even on the same planet anymore. Or had the thief followed us here and was sending this attack?

  If so, she had access to even more powerful magic than I’d suspected. These beings had extremely strong auras.

  As we dipped into the canyon, eight winged creatures came into view, flying out from behind the distant mountain. They traveled in a V formation, like ducks, but that was their only resemblance to something natural. Huge and made from yellow bones, they reminded me of skeletons of pterodactyls in museums, but even from a distance, I could tell they were much larger than pterodactyls had been.

  We descended before I
got a better look, and I wondered if my eyes were playing tricks on me. They weren’t really skeletons, were they? Maybe they were relatives of wyverns or something of that ilk with a pale-yellow coloring. After all, the air was hazy. Maybe I hadn’t seen through their rib cages.

  What are those things, Zav?

  Whatever living creatures they once were, they are that no longer. Now, they are only someone’s undead minions. He flew over the trees in the canyon and back to the abandoned settlement of stone dwellings.

  Undead minions? I had a vampire for a roommate and had battled a few zombies in my life, so the concept wasn’t unfamiliar, but I didn’t run into many such beings on Earth and had been told they were even rarer on other worlds. Dwarves, elves, trolls, and many other races stamped them out when they sprouted up through someone’s deal with the underworld. The undead were dangerous and had a tendency toward proliferation. Those who wanted to remain under the radar didn’t make pests of themselves by raising armies.

  Yes. They were altered with the powerful death magic of the underworld. Do not let them touch you or break your scales. Your skin.

  That might be easier said than done. Any idea why they’re after us?

  The creatures flew into view again, a couple miles up the canyon from us. Their yellow skeletal frames and pale leathery wings stood out against the hazy blue-gray sky as they soared in our direction.

  And would it make sense for you to make a portal and for us to leave instead of fighting them? I added.

  The no-breaking-the-skin rule might be hard to obey, and I worried about what would happen, especially since Zav hadn’t gone into detail. My mind filled in dreadful possibilities.

  I am considering that in order to send you back, but their presence here is alarming. I should investigate.

  Hey, if you’re staying, I’m staying. But tell me why you need to be the one to investigate.

  Neither today nor the last time I came to this world, looking for information on your blade, was I able to make contact with Braytokinor, the dragon who rules Dun Kroth. It is not uncommon for dragons to leave for a time, but had he known about these creatures, he should have done something. If necessary, he should have come to the Ruling Council and gotten help to deal with them.