The Dragon's War (18 page)

Raine took Talan’s hand. “Skye helped, she paved my way. Then Fenrir came to save me.”

“I’m not sure he so much as saved you as expedited the process. I’m pretty sure you would have killed everything around you,” Drakar said, “it just would have taken all day.”

Talan’s attention had turned to Raine and she examined the Scinterian with intense focus: bruised and battered, muscles bulging, covered in the blood of her enemies, her eyes a perfect shade of violet.

“You’re going to go rape her somewhere, aren’t you?” Idonea said.

“Of course I am,” the dragon replied.

Chapter 11

T
he wood elves met the entourage at the edge of the Deep Woods. Word had spread of the epic battle taking place on the plains of the Empty Land, and they were dismayed that they were not in time to assist. But they were glad to tend the wounded. Despite the pitched battle, the Ha’kan Queen sent word to her daughter that they would continue their journey. They still had time to reach Mount Alfheim prior to the Ceremony of Assumption. It was decided that the wounded Ha’kan would stay with the wood elves until they were fit to travel. Although the imperials could have returned to their garrisons for treatment, a curious camaraderie had grown between them and their Ha’kan sisters, and they did not wish to leave them, so they, too, remained with the wood elves.

So after a day’s rest, the entourage started out once more. Raine rejoined them and it was a content group that left the Deep Woods, not as lightly celebratory as before, but with a deeper sense of satisfaction, one that came with a hard-fought victory. They had lost few, and those were mourned deeply. But they had beaten an army of monstrosities against impossible odds. Dagna was already hard at work immortalizing the deed, entertaining the troops around her by tossing out lines of the poem she was writing in her head.

Word continued to spread, and the Alfar contingency that was to meet them at the border did not stop there, but rode into imperial lands to join them. Raine pulled up as the impressive group of elves, all wearing green and yellow armor, barreled down upon them. They were led by a handsome, fair-haired elf and surprisingly, a dwarf.

Raine dismounted in tandem with the lead elf. He approached Raine, gave her the traditional formal greeting of his people, then embraced her. He put his hands on her shoulders and held her at arm’s length.

“You do not appear any worse for the wear,” Feyden said.

“Did you expect anything else?”

“Of course not.”

The dwarf approached and his greeting was far less restrained. He struck Raine a blow on her shoulder that should have broken her collarbone.

“How could you?” he said. “How could you go into battle without me?”

“I apologize for such egregious conduct,” Raine said. “It will never happen again.”

“It had better not, lass.” And then Lorifal could contain himself no longer and hugged Raine so tightly the Ha’kan winced. “And you two,” he said, turning to Elyara and Idonea. “A canyon and a wave of sand? Are the stories true?”

“They are,” Dagna said proudly, “and I’m recording them all.”

“By my ancestors,” Lorifal said, “Dagna, too. If only I could have been there!”

“Feyden,” Raine said, “you remember Queen Halla?”

Feyden bowed low. “Of course, your Majesty. I was going to welcome you to the land of the Alfar, but we are not quite there yet.”

“Thank you, Feyden. It is good to see you again.”

“And the empire has sent us an escort as well, you remember the Knight Commander?”

“Yes,” Feyden said smoothly, wondering if he would be chastised for crossing over into imperial territory. Nerthus did no such thing.

“Bristol sends his regards and his congratulations to your sister. He wanted to come, but his words were ‘someone has to stay and run the country.’”

Feyden bowed at the unexpected diplomacy from the Knight Commander. Idonea continued to work her magic on that one.

“Shall we get going?” Raine said, putting her arms around the shoulders of the dwarf and elf. “We’re cutting our arrival much closer than we intended.”

The capital city of the Alfar Republic was extraordinary. Where imperial architecture was designed to project power, size, and force, and Ha’kan to project strength, elegance and beauty, the Alfar were unique in projecting a sense of both history and innovation. The infrastructure was ancient but timeless, meticulously maintained, full of gorgeous detail. The entourage moved slowly through the streets, enthralled with the golden spires that rose into the sky, the intricately carved stone structures that sat perched on the steep cliffs, the towers and walkways that crisscrossed the city. It was a sight that very few non-Alfar had ever seen.

And many of the Alfar came out to greet the visitors. Some were curious about the Ha’kan, and the procession of fearsome, beautiful women did not disappoint. Some wanted to see the Tavinter Rangers, because Alfar scholars speculated that the nomadic people had elven blood somewhere in their bloodline. Although this speculation had been greeted with contempt by many, now, on further review, it seemed possible and even desirable that the Alfar could claim some kinship with these woodland warriors. And the imperials, largely despised by the Alfar, were welcomed because these outmatched soldiers had just fought and destroyed the Hyr’rok’kin in a heroic battle. The Baroness of Fireside garnered particular attention because all wanted to see the raven-haired mage who was rumored to have drowned an army with a wave of sand. And Elyara of the Halvor was greeted with more respect than the Alfar had ever bestowed on any wood elf.

The throngs of elves were slightly disappointed, however, because Talan’alaith’illaria, Queen of all Dragons, and her lover, the Scinterian-Arlanian warrior were not present. Out of the illustrious guests, these two went beyond celebrated: they were legends. The soon-to-be Directorate, Maeva, owed some of her political pull to her claimed ties with them, and it was believed that her brother was good friends with the Scinterian. But they were nowhere to be seen, so the crowds had to content themselves with the current spectacle.

The structure housing the High Council was a castle, although with distinctly elven architecture. The gleaming gold turrets grew out of the mountainside, and the structure itself gave the impression of solidity while perched precariously on the sheer cliffs. The procession stopped at the bottom of an immense staircase. Queen Halla dismounted and began to flow gracefully up the stairs, her staff one step behind. To the wonder of those standing on the upper terrace, the soon-to-be Directorate started to flow down the stairs toward her. The Emperor had received no such honor; Maeva had made him climb the entire staircase. But she clearly considered the Ha’kan more favorably, for she met the Queen on the middle terrace, a point of etiquette not lost on her people.

“Your Majesty,” Maeva said, bowing low to the Ha’kan Queen.

“Madame Directorate,” Halla said, giving the deep curtsy of one sovereign to another. Maeva was greatly pleased with the grace and respect of the Ha’kan. Civility, tradition, and ceremony ruled the Alfar, and the Ha’kan appeared kindred souls on these matters. She nodded a greeting to her brother, then addressed the Queen again.

“I understand you had a little skirmish on the way here,” Maeva said, her tone signifying she knew the skirmish had been anything but.

“A bit of a diversion,” the Queen said, and Maeva appreciated the tact and steel of the response.

Maeva extended her arm to Halla. “I must hear every detail,” she said. “But let us finish our ascent to I can greet the rest of your entourage properly.”

And then the throngs received a rare treat, for the cold, arrogant aristocrat walked up the staircase arm-in-arm with the gorgeous Queen of the Ha’kan, when on most occasions she would not deign to touch another. At the top of the staircase, Melwen, Maeva’s Chief Assistant, bowed low as his liege passed. The First General, taller than all present, nodded in recognition as she moved by him. A minor council member leaned in to whisper to him.

“I did not imagine that the Ha’kan were so large.”

“I told you they were big,” Melwen whispered back.

They entered into a grand foyer, and there were throngs of spectators here, as well. Maeva now turned to the Ha’kan Royal Staff.

“High Priestess, welcome to Mount Alfheim. I am certain you will be inundated with ill-mannered questions, so please let me know if anyone becomes too boorish.”

“Alfar courtesy is well-known,” Astrid said, “and I am used to curious questions about my people.”

Maeva moved to Gimle. “First Scholar, you already have many claims on your time. My scholars wish to discuss history with you, Kiren wants to talk linguistics, and your skill with wards has now drawn the attention of my mages. Do not let them exhaust you.”

“It will be my pleasure to discuss all these things. I look forward to it.”

Maeva moved to Senta, then just stood in front of her looking her up and down. “And First General, please don’t intimidate my soldiers too much.”

Senta grinned. “I think there’s little danger in that. I saw the Alfar on display in Haldis. Your military excellence is well-known, Madame Directorate.”

Maeva turned to Skye, who was standing slightly behind the First General.

“And this is now your First Ranger,” Maeva said, and Senta took note that the Alfar spy network was as proficient as always.

Skye bowed in the Tavinter custom, showing far more poise than Maeva had seen from the girl in the past, although a blush colored her cheeks and made her lovelier than ever.

“Madame Directorate.”

Maeva would be kind for once and not toy with her, although there would be time enough for that, later. She moved on to the ravishing woman next to her whose plunging bodice captured the attention of even the most reserved of the Alfar.

“Ah, Baroness,” Maeva said sardonically. The title was something of a joke between them. Maeva knew that Raine had bestowed it upon Idonea simply to get out of a tedious imperial function. Upon Idonea’s dramatic entrance, Maeva had been the first to buy in on the ruse, solidifying Idonea’s place in the imperial court. The mage’s laughing dark eyes communicated the inside joke.

“Madame Directorate, it is a pleasure to see you again. May I present my brother, Drakar.”

Maeva turned to the rakishly handsome young man, pleased with this unexpected guest. Dark hair, dark eyes, a faint physical resemblance to his sister and a very strong non-physical one. They shared the same sexual energy, full of magic and irreverence, and an impudence that was irresistible.

“Ah yes, the black dragon I saw in the Ha’kan capital. Are you going to rape and pillage your way through Alfar society?”

Drakar bowed exaggeratedly low in self-mocking. “Not without your permission, Madame Directorate.”

Idonea slapped him on the arm, and Maeva noted the same, intriguing sexual tension between the two. The gossips in court were going to have a field day. “And you remember the Knight Commander Nerthus?” Idonea continued.

“Yes,” Maeva said, pulling the identity from the endless catalogue her network provided. Apparently Idonea led this one around on a leash. “Welcome to Mount Alfheim, Knight Commander. I understand your troops fought bravely.”

“Thank you, Madame Directorate,” Nerthus said, lacking the charm of all those before her, but responding with a frank honesty that slightly elevated her in Maeva’s eyes. What elevated Nerthus the most, however, was that the Knight Commander routinely bedded the hellcat standing next to her, a deed provoking inestimable admiration.

“And the Imperial Bard,” Maeva said to Dagna, “present in yet another epic adventure. Will you immortalize this one as well?”

“I have already begun, Madame Directorate,” Dagna said proudly.

“Excellent, we look forward to its completion. And Elyara,” Maeva said, greeting the slender wood elf by name. “Thank you for coming. I regret that Y’arren could not attend, but I understand.”

“Thank you, Madame Directorate. Y’arren has sent a blessing to be bestowed upon you during your Ceremony.”

“I am honored to accept such a gift,” Maeva said. “And we welcome you not simply as Y’arren’s substitute, but in your own right as well. I understand you played a pivotal role in this latest victory. And I think Kiren has anticipated your arrival more than any other, with the possible exception of Raine.”

“Speaking of which,” Maeva said, glancing about, “where is Raine? And your mother?” She said to Idonea.

“They did not wish to pull attention away from the matter-at-hand,” Idonea said, “Although they have promised to be here for the Reception and Ceremony.”

Maeva leaned close. “They’re off fucking somewhere, aren’t they?”

“No doubt,” Idonea said.

“Assuredly,” Drakar agreed.

Chapter 12

M
ount Alfheim was already in a state of celebration, and with the arrival of the newcomers, the merriment only increased. The Ha’kan attracted non-stop attention, and there was a mutual fascination between the High Elves and the all-female race. Several elven women in the nobility sought to try their hand with the Royal Guard and found the Ha’kan surprisingly willing, not having completely grasped that sex was yet another form of diplomacy for the Ha’kan. The First General had cautioned the Guard on the differences between their cultures, but then told them to use their best judgment and discretion. They did so with remarkable success, furthering the goodwill between their peoples and giving the elven women a night they would carry to their grave.

Queen Halla met with the Emperor, who thanked her for defending imperial territory against the Hyr’rok’kin assault. The imperials who had accompanied the Emperor were in awe of their comrades who had fought in the Empty Land. They expressed disappointment that they had missed the fight. The fidelity of the veterans of that battle toward the Ha’kan impressed itself upon the soldiers not present in the battle, and soon they were all drinking and telling tales together. The contingency of dwarves that accompanied Lorifal were also deeply depressed they had missed the battle, and joined in with the Ha’kan for both the drinking and the storytelling.