Iron Elf - A Race Reborn (Book 2) (17 page)

I had four sparring partners from among the royal guard. Lister was the most aggressive. He fought in a frenzy. Laraib was the fastest. Not the most skilful, but his raw speed made him agile in attack and slippery in defence. Herkus was the strongest and the toughest, preferring to take a blow on the horns rather than wear a helmet. Finally, Sham was the tallest. His height and long arms gave him as much reach as Hafgan had. I never sparred with all of them at once (“We’re training you to fight a single man, not a group!”) but they did work as a team, switching in and out of the ring while I went without a break.

Lister usually went first, and no matter how fresh I was he was always fresher. He charged into battle with a shout and a grin. He liked to get close and used his fist as readily as his sword. We fought at full speed, our blunt weapons the only concession to safety. “Hah!” he said. “I’ll murder you, I’ll murder you!” Steel rang as we got our swords into a bind. The metal rasped as we struggled for advantage. I levered his sword up and kicked him away.

They sent in Laraib after I’d been softened up, but while I still had some surprises. The man could shift from attack to defence in a single strike: “You’re a little slow today, Your Majesty, how’s the arm? It was pretty beat up the last time we did this, hope you put something on it like I told you. Saaay is this a new technique I must say it’s pretty slick. Watch me I’m gonna cut low whoop you didn’t watch me…”

Next was Herkus. He would lumber into the ring, arm swinging. My own sword arm was usually tired so it was tough keeping my guard up. He battered away, giggling all the while. “Hee hee!”

I desperately missed my magic. Were I allowed, I could wipe the grin off his face with a fireball. I could give myself strength and speed enough to outfight them all. In fact, I could bring the entire training hall down on their heads, that’s how much firepower a grey mage had. Sadly, that would be cheating. So I endured long enough for Sham to take his turn. They were good swordsmen, all of them, but Sham had reach and a half. I was generally too tired for fancy footwork so he only needed to keep his distance. I knew then what besieged castles felt like.

“Get over here!” I grabbed his sword in a mailed fist. He twisted it out of my hands and I had to parry. I lunged and cut low, but he stood with his legs together and reached forward—my helmet rang. “Dammit!”

Was I getting better? Slowly, yes. If they switched the order to play to my strengths (Sham or Laraib while I was still agile, Herkus or Lister while I was still strong) then I gave as good as I got. I did even better in one-on-one matches where neither opponent got a break.

“Don’t get cocky,” Vitus said. “You’re still nowhere near Hafgan’s level. Whatever he hits, he destroys.”

It wasn’t entirely a grind. As Vitus pointed out, that would be counterproductive. Motivating me would get harder and harder and the risk of injury would increase. Capran medicine was about as capable as elven medicine, but nowhere as gentle. Think of their hangover cure, but worse. They had a potion that could knit bones overnight, something the finest water mages couldn’t do, but it wasn’t the fun kind of potion. Side effects included stabbing pains.

A lot of workouts were just to keep me training despite my aches and pains. If I was limping we’d do some archery and if I was sore we’d swing around some weighted clubs. My meals were filling and my sleep was deep. There were other compensations.

“Is the sauna broken?” I asked Vitus. The door was locked.

He harrumphed. “Why don’t you go to your room and lie down?”

I wondered about that. I walked into my apartments and found Tamril there. “Darling!” She bounced. “You’re just in time!”

“Just in time for what?” I stepped back when I saw her in a bikini, but then I saw the massage table. “You’re a masseuse?”

“I’m good with my hands and like to oil down my men. Sure. Don’t be scared. They say you’ve been working hard. You’re feeling it, aren’t you?”

I was in pain. I’d been punching with hand weights and my shoulder blades glowed. “No bad touching, okay?”

“Honey, I never touched a man wrong.”

It was nice. The thing about exercise is, it feels so good when you stop. You sweat, your muscles burn, and you feel you’ve accomplished something. When you’re pleasantly tired it seems perfectly fine to lie back and let the heat out of your pores. No wonder so many elves became addicted! It’s even better when there’s a woman waiting to make you feel better. Damn, this must be what it’s like to be married.

“How was your day, dear?” Tamril had warm hands and a grip like steel. The knots in my back melted away.

“Mmm. The usual. Go to the gym, get my head bashed in. How was your day?”

“Tiring. I spent all day drafting a declaration of war. For if you lose.” She found another sore spot and kneaded it away. “I couldn’t bear to lose you, but I’d still have a duty. And it’s invade or die, my husband. You know this. Our race has no future in the Silver World.”

“Why not emigrate? All I’m saying is—”

“The elves would never allow it. They pushed the dragons to extinction. They drove the dwarves underground. They eat halflings.”

“Just on special occas—” I stopped. Only the most debauched of elves did that, but I couldn’t defend it. It’s not like we cared. It wasn’t even illegal.

“You’re tensing up,” she said. “Easy. It’s us or them, baby. But maybe it won’t come to that. Maybe they’ll surrender. You say they don’t give up easily, but something made them abandon their colonies.”

I sank down and let her work. Her hands and elbows were gentle but insistent. Soon I was as soft as cookie dough. “You’re good at this. Remind me why you didn’t get into massage therapy instead of diplomacy.”

“I’ve always had a weakness for foreign affairs.” She giggled. “And I only like two kinds of men: domestic and imported. I must confess a soft spot for the elven crown prince.”

“Angrod? That fine young man?”

“Tell me about it,” she purred. “With your permission, I’d like to hump his bones. Turn over, you’re done on this side.”

I tried to adjust the towel around my waist but she snatched it away. “Why bother? We’re man and wife!”

She’d discarded the bikini and stood before me, solidly nude. Her bush was black to match her head hair. So was the fur on her lower legs. She did a slow turn, showing me every single curve she had. She bent forward and looked back at me. Her little tail wagged. “Like what you see, lover?” She finished the turn and straightened, opening her legs as she did so. She looked even more scandalous from the front.

I wanted to lock myself in the bathroom. But I was so damn relaxed it sounded like too much work. I could only watch as she rubbed lavender oil all over herself, starting with her small, perfect breasts, her arms, then her generous hips. She didn’t stop till she was slick all over.

“Shouldn’t you be oiling me up?” I asked.

“I’m warming it up for you.” She climbed onto the far end of the table and worked her way up, and soon I felt her breath on my cheek. She nipped my ear and wet my neck with kisses. She panted. We clasped both hands and she raised herself. “Oh, my king, my brave, beautiful king, I’ve waited so long. How I wish I could give you a happy ending.”

I groaned. “Wait a bit.”

CHAPTER 15:
MEERWEN

“Lamemheth,” I said. “You will never find a more wretched hive. If there’s a bright centre of Brandish, you’re in the city it’s furthest from.”

“Doesn’t look so wretched to me,” Mina said. “Doesn’t look too dark either.”

Actually, Lamemheth was well-lit, even extravagantly so. The crystal dome hid the sun and stars. However, it was an excellent mirror for the gaslights that blazed on every street. The brass street lamps were more than bright enough but each establishment had ornate lanterns and glowing signs. A golden city indeed. It was gaudier than I was used to but most people didn’t mind. They all seemed to be having a good time.

“Thank you.” Mina accepted a flyer from a halfling girl. The girl was underdressed for winter, but under the dome it was surprisingly warm.

“This is certainly an improvement over the cold outside,” Mina said. “Why do you have a low opinion of Lamemheth? Hey, there’s Goldore Gil!” She pointed at a sign shaped like a dwarven miner, who waved at pedestrians with a mechanical arm. “I always wanted to see him. Do you think we have time for a little gambling?”

“Have you forgotten our mission? People could be dying as we speak!”

She accepted another flyer. “Maybe on the way back? It’s my first time to the entertainment capital.”

“It gets old after a while.”

“How could you get tired of this?”

Humans swaggered in their varied costumes, which owed more to personal taste than practical need. They wore leather and fur but showed as much skin as they pleased. It was illegal in the city for civilians to wear heavy armour or weapons but plenty of Northlanders looked like they’d stepped off the battlefield. On the other hand, just as many pushed the limits of public decency. There was a woman who wore furry boots, a furry hat, and three bits of fur in between.

“Do you ever wish you could walk around like that?” Mina asked. “I don’t have the legs for it.”

“And I don’t have the brazenness. Why do people dress like that?”