Dragon Sacrifice (The First Realm Book 3) (21 page)

“Shit!” she said. “Fucking shit rifle!” She was reloading as she cursed. The wyvern rolled back to its feet and fixed its eyes on her.

“Back!” I said. I gathered fuel from the air and flung it in the wyvern’s face. The blast of flame drove it off, but only by a few feet. I swirled my arms, collecting more combustibles. Twigs and leaves added themselves to the fireball. I held it until Conrad dragged Sandy to safety. Then I released.

I had to shield myself from the explosion, which catapulted the wyvern into the trees. I’d hoped it would impale itself on something, but no such luck. It
had
broken a few bones, as my Sight confirmed. Magnus opened his glove and a bolt of power caught the creature in the chest. The trees burst into flame. The heat could melt tungsten but the creature hobbled out of the wreckage, smoking but unburned.

Arawn charged. The lance-tip exploded in the creature’s neck. No effect. Hafgan came in with another lance but this did nothing more than make the wyvern howl. Even its eyes were armoured, as Orvar found out. He and the other caprans showered it with arrows.

I gathered my will and pulled on the bedrock. Stone blades emerged from the earth, sharper than anything. Their edges were just molecules thick. They could slide through a man’s arm like it wasn’t there and sever the limb so cleanly that there would be no pain. The blades shattered on the wyvern’s belly.

“Sweet solstice,” Magnus said. “What is its skin made of?”

Dragonhide, I almost said. The unbreakable armour that some serpents had been born with. It made them all but invincible. Killing just one was the stuff of legend.

Still, our quarry was only a wyvern. It might have been a throwback, but it was not a monster from the elven dark age. We could kill it.

“If we can’t break its skin, we’ll have to break its bones!” I said.

“I can do that,” Meerwen said. She’d lost her cape and gained a black eye. She walking forward, wiping blood from her nose. The wyvern snapped at her and she punched it in the jaw.

Internalized magic isn’t flashy. It doesn’t lent itself to fireballs or force fields. But when you’re a master of it... The uppercut smashed the wyvern’s jaws together. Teeth went flying. The creature blinked and Meerwen hooked another punch into its nose.

Borlog laughed. “That’s how to do it!” He raised his club and smashed the wyvern’s good leg.

Elsa threw a massive rock at the beast’s back. Hertha picked up a small tree and swung at its wing.

“Harness,” Magnus said. His assistants removed his gauntlets and set to work assembling a frame around him.

Hafgan rode past the wyvern, beating its ribs with a warhammer. Meerwen poured blows on the creature’s face, breaking teeth and making its skull ring.

Magnus picked up a rock. It was huge, but the armature he wore gave him the strength to throw it. It bounced off the wyvern’s back and the creature screeched. Its tail skinned back to reveal a stinger. Wyverns don’t have stingers but this one did.

“Get down!” I said.

The wyvern hit Borlog in the chest. The spike came out his back and spurted yellow venom.

Borlog stiffened.

“Noooo!”

Cruix the dragon landed on the wyvern’s back, bit down on its neck, and broke it.

Chapter 19: Heronimo

I drew my sword. “Assassins!”

Cruix stumbled and I caught him. He blinked at the arrow-shaft in his shoulder. “What?”

“Later!” I said. I held my sword in front of us. Prince Ardel had his sword out as well.

“Behind me!” I said. An arrow thudded into the wall next to me. Another skittered on the cobblestones.

“This way!”

I turned to lead us back the way we had come, but hooded figures emerged from the crowd and drew wicked elven weapons.

“Elendil assassins!”

People scattered. I pulled Cruix into a dirty alley and the prince followed.

“Whur—where are we going?” Cruix asked.

“Somewhere we can make a stand,” I said. “Ardel, could this be a training exercise?” The

Elendil were known to attack settlements. I’d lost my parents in such an attack.

Ardel shook his head. “They’ve never hit a city before.”

“Then they must be after you.”

The alley led to a rusty gate. I cut the chain apart.

“Then—then why did they shoot me?” Cruix asked.

“Could they be after you?” I asked.

He laughed. “The last dragon in the world? But everyone likes me!”

He was having trouble staying upright. Slurring his words, too. The arrow was poisoned, of course, to shut down a human’s healing ability.

There were apartments above us, facing away from the street. The stairs were narrow and well-suited to a lone defender.

“Come on!” I said. We rushed up the stairs to the topmost apartment. “Open up!” I said.

“Who is it?”

“It is the prince!” I said. “He is chased by killers!”

The door cracked open. An old woman peered through. So did a cat. I could smell many other cats.

“Madame,” Ardel said. “I beg shelter for my friends. One of them is wounded.”

“Don’t mind me,” Cruix said. “I’m just going to lean here.” He slumped against the wall and slid to his knees.

The old lady started undoing the many door-chains. “Come in. Come in!”

It smelled even worse inside. There were cats and kittens everywhere with no litterbox in sight.

“Would you like some tea?” the woman asked.

“Thank you, no,” Ardel said. “Is there another way out?”

“Oho, no, dear me,” she said. She waved at the windows, which were all barred. “I live alone, you see.”

“Simplifies things,” I said. “How long until we are missed back at the palace?”

“An hour,” Ardel said. “Then they’ll send the garrison running.”

“So we just need to survive that long.”

There were people on the steps. They wore steel fox masks and carried elven blades.

“Cruix was right,” I said. “I do say stupid things.”

Angrod

“Did you have to wear that?” Meerwen asked.

“It’s guild formalwear,” I said. “I don’t see why not.”

She meant the flowing robe as well as the sleeveless jacket with its stiff, flaring shoulders. Above all she meant the tall sugarloaf hat.

“It looks like a penis,” she said.

I waggled my eyebrows. “Does that excite you?”

She shoved me. “You’re impossible.”

Meerwen herself wore a blue-green dress that showed off her softer side, among other things. It cupped her breasts, hugged her hips, showed off her legs.

“You look delicious, you know that?” I said.

“Someone has to represent.”

We rounded a corner and ran into Serrato Alva. He wore an identical dress.

“Congratulations, Prince Angrod. You are the hero of the day.”

“I didn’t kill the wyvern.”

“No, but your people did. You must learn to take the credit on their behalf. It takes an army to conquer a kingdom, but only one man can be king. Deal with it.”

He looked at Meerwen and sniffed. “I wear it better.”

And he pranced away on high heels.

“... huh,” I said.

A door opened and Heronimo peeked out of the main hall. “Hey everyone! Angrod’s here!”

Inside it was a blur of faces. Everyone wanted to shake my hand. Everyone wanted to clap me on the back. Serving girls kept offering me wine. I kept indulging them.

“Fine work, fine work,” Ardel said. He looked like he’d had more than a few drinks himself. “I look forward to our future dealings.”

“You aren’t mad that your brother didn’t win? Where is he, anyway?”

He rubbed his neck. “He is away. Please don’t take offence. He pushes himself so very hard.”

“Will he be all right?”

“Oh yes. What’s important is that people are safe.”

I nodded my agreement. A girl with a tray came by and I snagged another drink.

“Veneanar,” Magnus said. “That was man’s work you did.”

“Thank you.” I moved to shake his hand but he backed away.

“Forgive me, but I’d rather not touch that silver hand of yours. It is an Artefact. A dwarf died making it.”

“Is it dangerous?” I asked.

“It has a will of its own. Has it spoken to you?”

“N-not that I can remember. Tell me, why did you send me this arm? What was the thought behind this gift?”

“The master prosthetist left a note. He said that the king of the elves would need the arm on the exact day that you lost yours.”

He explained further. Sometimes, under intense pressure, dwarves would snap and create artefacts, magic items capable of almost anything. Dwarven masterworks, such as what Mina carried, were extremely powerful, but
artefacts
were of such quality that no sane craftsman could begin to duplicate them. They were priceless. And they were the stuff of legend.

“You know, when I have a nervous breakdown I crawl into the bottle,” I said. “You dwarves do something productive!”

He laughed without smiling. “It’s not all roses. Artefacts have been made out of leather and bone.
Fresh
leather and bone.”

Magnus cleared his throat. “Arawn and I have been discussing the matter of immigration. Our people would be most useful in developing your new holdings. Dwarven irrigation techniques, Capran livestock strains, so on.”

“I welcome settlers of all kinds. You’ll have to live under human law, but I consulted with a lawspeaker and he says there’s nothing barring your peoples, or indeed elves, from living in the Northlands. Just no wizards.”

“And the law that forbids dwarves from dwelling on the surface?”

“That law only applies in Brandish,” I said.

Shockingly, he grinned. “You’re all right, Veneanar. I expect we’ll have more business in the future.”

He went off to speak with Arawn, who waved at me. I raised my glass and noticed it was empty.

I looked around for a serving girl.

“Allow me,” Elsa said, handing me a new glass. “That’s a very provocative hat. ”

“Er,” I said.”

“You impressed me today.”

“Erm, I’m glad.” My right hand dipped into the new glass. “You impressed me, too. I’ve never seen anyone shapeshift so easily. ”

“It’s not as effortless as it looks. But you’d know that. You are the first shapeshifter in living memory.”

I coughed. It was true. Until the night I had turned into a dragon, no one had ever changed shape so drastically. “You were there?”

“Reports came to me. Once I knew it was possible, I could see what I needed to do. The breakthrough came soon after.”

“You must have taken conscious control of your healing factor and reconfigured your morphic field to allow for an animal-like form.”

She leaned forward. She seemed to be dressed in snowflakes and her breasts were only lightly dusted. “But this isn’t the time to talk shop, now is it?”

“Er, n-no.”

“Have you given any thought about who you want to represent you in the Northlands?”

I was considering Conrad, but I didn’t tell her that. “Do you have anyone in mind?”

She smiled. “I could be a great asset to you. As a sorceress I have high status here.”

“What happened to your arrangement with Orvar? What happened to your new nation?”

“It is regrettable that Orvar and I have parted ways. Call me an opportunist, but one must be pragmatic when deciding the fate of millions.”

“And if I grant equal rights to all races?”

She frowned for a second. “I would prefer to put my people first.”

“I will consider your application,” I said. I drained my glass and sighed. “Why does this keep happening?”

“What does?”

I looked around for another drink. “This. Nobody sees me. They just see my estates, my titles.

Women only want me for my huge... tract of land.”

She touched my shoulder. “You were very brave today.”

“A lot of people were.”

She bit her lip. “I wasn’t looking at them.”

“And what did I do to deserve that?”

“When you talked about pouring death into the wyvern’s lair like nothing could be simpler.” She shrugged. “Call me shallow, but I just love power. And baby, you’ve got lots of it.”

She whispered into my ear, “Tell me, how do they make love in your country? Is it very different?”

“I don’t know how they make love in your country.”

“Would you like to find out?”

Across the room, Meerwen was staring daggers. Tamril was passing by so I excused myself.

“I need to have a word with the ambassador,” I said.

The capran woman was, as usual, a walking scandal. Her dress was black, lacy, and mostly see-through. “Hello, lover,” she said. “Did you need me for something?”

Whoops. “If it’s all right with you, Tamril, I’ve had enough excitement today.”

“I saw the creature’s head. Quite a prize.”

I shrugged. “I hardly did anything.”

“Or so you think.”

Meerwen was talking with King Garvel and Jarl Nordensson. Talking and sketching figures on the table. Army talk, no doubt. Heronimo and Cruix stood by the fire with Ardel’s three companions. Ardel himself was in a corner with Serrato, who was giggling and looking over one bare shoulder. The pirate was flirting mightily. The prince was backing away slowly.

“You’ve rescued me from a tight, er, spot,” I said. “Let’s go and rescue someone else.”

With Tamril in hand I walked over to Ardel and Serrato. Serrato was leaning against a wall, high heel dangling from the toes of one foot.

“There you are, Angrod,” Ardel said. “Captain Alva was telling me how he’s able to stay at sea for such long periods.”

“Do tell,” I said. The prince shot me a grateful look.

As Serrato explained, it involved fresh fruit, frozen vegetables, and magically-filtered seawater.

All very interesting. I quietly excused myself from the discussion.

Arawn met me at the door. “Going somewhere, my friend?”

“Everyone wants a piece of me.”

He laughed. “I know the feeling. Here.” And he handed me a tobacco pouch.

“This was placed in my care, for delivery to you. Tell me, Angrod. While you were in my land, did you meet a man named Pan?”

“How is he?” I said.

The king of the caprans shook his head. “Pan is a myth. The first of my kind, aeons dead. You met a ghost.”

He held up half a coin. “If not for this, I would think someone were hoaxing us. But Pan left a dozen of these with the government. The halves he kept for himself, to prove his authority.”

I whistled. “That’s some expensive postage. And all to fill my pipe?”

“Pan was a seer. Who knows what he intends for you?”