Elfthade

By Genie Driscoll

In the land of Natal, in a place called Umhlanga, there lives the last human being on Earth. The last Guardian. His protectors are the Dragons of the Drakensburg and a few close Elvish friends. But there are those who covet what he has and will do anything to get it from him. A war is coming between the Dragons and the Elves.

This book was written for my son.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Genie Driscoll
• Release date: Jan 21, 2010
• ISBN: 9781452398167

Genie Driscoll

I have been writing fiction and Poetry for the past 18 years, as a hobby.I am a genre writer, and I write Romance, science Fiction, fantasy, thrillers, humor, crime, drama and poetry. I love writing original Science fiction and Thrillers the most. I hope you enjoy reading my books as much as I enjoyed writing them. I have a few novel series and 3 Anthologies. The Romance Anthologies include all my Romances except Rebel Princess and my Spy Anthology Tavonovich will include all current and coming individual novels. All Royalties go to my favorite charities "St Judes Children's Cancer Hospital". Paralyzed Veterans of America and the Central California Food Bank

Book preview

Elfthade

Genie Driscoll

Copyright © 21 Jan 2010 Genie Driscoll

All rights reserved. First Edition.

ISBN: 9781452398167

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Cover photo courtesy of Alaskan Dude on Flickr:

www.flickr.com/photos/72213316@N00/5268156840/

Books by Genie Driscoll

Stargate Aquarius: Starbase

Stargate Aquarius: The Dragon

Romance Anthology #1

Romance Anthology #2

Tavonovich ~ Spy Anthology

V~The Sirrians Return (Book 1)

V~Resistance (Book 2)

Earthdome Space Fleet

Poetic Passions

—oOo—

Chapter One ~ Sanesha’s News

The sky was the bright, fresh blue of a deep mountain lake. Huge grey clouds, their edges glowing in the sunlight, drifted across it, their dark shapes all looming and ominous and hanging overhead as if they were about to fall. Their shadows moved over the stone walls of a great city which had been built on a plain somewhere in the middle of the land called Elfthade. The city’s name was Umhlanga, and at its centre was the old castle, which was the seat of Elfthade’s government. Unlike a regular castle, this one was equipped with several very tall and extremely stout towers. Their tops were flat and wide, massively reinforced so that they could support hundreds of tons in weight. It was for a very good reason. Up on the top of one of these towers, a dragon was perched.

Her name was Sanesha. At five years old, she was the size of an elephant and powerfully built, with four short, thick legs and a pair of wide wings on her back. Her polished scales were jet black and looked like they’d been carved from obsidian, and her curved talons and the six long horns on her head were all ivory-white, as were the fangs that jutted from her top lip. The membranes of her wings were blood red, as were her eyes, and her long-muzzled face was angular and fierce-looking. All in all she was an intimidating sight, as she sat and rustled her wings restlessly, waiting. After a few minutes a trapdoor by her foreleg opened, and a man climbed through it. He looked about thirty, and was clad in a long black robe. The man dusted himself down rather fastidiously, and went to stand a short distance away from the end of Sanesha’s snout. She looked down at him, and then bowed her head, touching her nose to the stonework at his feet.

Father, she said.

The man put his hand on her forehead. Hello, Sanesha, he said. Sanesha raised her head and sat back on her haunches, curling her tail around her like a cat. She said nothing, and waited for the man to speak, which he did. What have you discovered? he asked. Do you know if it’s really true? It is, said Sanesha. She opened her left wing and showed him the flank beneath. It was marred by a row of deep, bloody gashes. It’s true, she said, lowering the wing again.

The man winced. Those look bad, he said. Here, let me heal them.

No, said Sanesha. Leave them. I’ll let them heal on their own.

Very well, said the man. Now tell me what you’ve found.

I met one of them, male, yellow, with an elf riding him.

So they attacked you? said the man.

No, said Sanesha. No, that was her.

Bernice, said the man.

Yes, said Sanesha. And he was with her. I identified myself to them, but they ignored me. They tried to kill me. I called up the storm and got away, then came straight back here to report.

Where was this? the man asked. And when?

In the Drakensburg Mountains, said Sanesha. Not far from Dragons Peak. Two days ago.

You got back here that fast? said the man.

Yes, said Sanesha.

The man’s chin was adorned by a pointed black beard. He stroked it with a thoughtful expression. If it’s true, he said. Then we can’t afford to waste any time. I’ll go there with Isis and see what I can find out. I want you to look for Peter and Doug, and Steve too if you can find him. Tell them to come back here. Pat will tell them what to do.

Yes, father, said Sanesha. She flew away without another word, and the man retreated back through the trapdoor. There was a short ladder underneath it, which led to the top of a staircase. The man made his way down these, deep in thought. His name was Scott, and he was probably the most loved man in Elfthade. He was also the king of Elfthade, and had been for a hundred years. It wasn’t a job he’d ever taken much pride in, but he did it competently enough. Since his crushing defeat of the rebel army called the Zulus he’d become more popular in some eyes, but the Empire, which he had built, was still far from safe, especially now.

Scott reached the foot of the stairs and began traversing a corridor. He was as fair in looks as he was in reputation – in other words, very. His hair was dark blonde and curly, and he wore it slightly long so that it flowed to his shoulder like a mane. The beard was a neat goatee and unaccompanied by a moustache, and he had eyes the same color as Sanesha’s scales, hazel and unreadable, glittering with fierce intelligence. His features were angular, and handsome, and he carried himself like a man who knew what he was doing. He did, too.

He made his way through the castle until he reached a door, which he opened. On the other side were his private chambers. Or, at least, they had been private until a few years ago. Now there was someone waiting for him inside.

She was sitting by the window, watching the clouds drift over the sky outside, the light making a halo over her hair. When Scott came in she turned around and smiled. Hello, she said. Scott went to sit next to her. She took his hand in hers. What’s the news? she asked. Did you see one of the hatchlings?

It’s been a while since they were hatchlings, Pat, said Scott. But yes, I did. Sanesha, she brought bad news for us.

The news riders really exist? asked Patsy. She was an elf, but very slightly odd in appearance. Her long hair was silver, and there was a silvery sheen to her skin. Her eyes were fiery gold, and when she smiled her teeth were revealed to be sharp and her canines long.

Yes, said Scott. Or, at least, one of them is. A yellow male, with an elf riding him.

Elves? Pat asked. Did she catch him?

Unfortunately, no, said Scott. She was attacked, by Bernice and Stephen. She’s all right, just a few scratches.

Patsy’s golden eyes narrowed. Where are they?

In the Drakensburg Mountains somewhere, said Scott. Dragons Peak. Isis and I are going to investigate. You’ll be in charge while I’m gone.

Pat squeezed his hand. Don’t go, she said. Send someone else, please.

Don’t worry, said Scott. Lloyd’s coming with me. I’m not making that mistake again.

Pat hesitated. Well, all right. But be careful. I don’t want to lose you again.

Don’t worry about me, said Scott. I’m tough to kill. And you be careful too, all right? Be on the alert. Keep a weapon to hand, make sure you’re always guarded; the usual. I’m sure you know what to do.

I can fight, said Pat, and growled mock-ferociously at him. Now and always. She touched her abdomen, which was swollen from her advanced pregnancy.

I know you can, said Scott, his eyes a little warmer than usual. He sighed. I’d better go and get ready. Will you come and see me off?

Pat stood up. Of course.

Scott smiled and left the room. He headed for the armory with quick, efficient steps. He was taking no chances on this trip; Stephen had caught him unprepared before, and it had cost him dearly. In the armory he put on his armor, which he had had made especially for him. A plain but well-forged breastplate made of black steel with his personal symbol etched into it, which he wore under his robe along with a matching back plate, a pair of thick leather braces and a helmet decorated with a snarling dragon with its wings spread. Clad in this, with the helmet under his arm, he collected a bag of supplies which he’d had packed for him by one of the servants, and climbed to the top of the Northernmost tower, where Isis was waiting for him, Pat by his side. Isis was a green dragon, much like her grandniece, Sanesha, but much larger and more heavily built. Her wing membranes were red, and unlike Sanesha her lower fangs protruded over his upper lip rather than the other way around. Pat was with him, busy strapping the saddle into place on the green dragon’s shoulders. Scott patted Isis’s neck. How are you, old friend?

Ready to go, said Isis. And happy to as well. I’ve been bored out of my mind, waiting around here.

Me too, said Scott. Are Thorn and Lloyd ready?

Yes, said Isis. They’re over there. He indicated one of the towers at the far side of the castle, where a large red dragon was indeed perched. There was a man seated on his back. Scott reached out to them with his mind. Are you ready to leave?

There was a brief pause, and then Lloyd’s mental voice said; Yes, my lord. We’ll follow you.

Scott nodded. Right, then that’s everything. He turned to Pat. We’ll only be gone a day or two at most. Take care of yourself. And don’t forget to have a word with Councilor Joshua about that irrigation scheme he’s been fussing over. And be sure to take your potion every morning, and-,

Calm down, Pat advised him. You’re fussing again.

Sorry, said Scott.

They embraced and kissed, and then Scott slung his bag on his back and climbed into Isis’s saddle, where he secured himself with the leg-straps built into it. Pat took shelter by the low stonewall at the edge of the roof, and Isis took off with a great flick of her red wings. She flew up and over the castle, and Thorn followed, and the two dragons soared off over the roofs of Umhlanga and away.

Left alone, Pat retreated indoors. There was a chilly wind beginning to blow in from the North. Back in the chambers she shared with Scott, she closed the window and put on a warm grey robe with fur trimming. So, Stephen was back. She hadn’t seen him in years, but she hadn’t forgotten him by any means. The boy had been leader of the Zulus, and was the only dragon-rider left who was not loyal to Scott. He and his blue dragon, Bernice, had both been determined to bring down the Empire at any cost, and the result had been a long and bloody war. It had come to a head when both Pat and Scott had been captured by the Zulus. Stephen, showing a brutality that none had previously believed him capable of, had had Scott mercilessly tortured and had tried to force him into handing over control of the Empire to him. However, Scott had refused to co-operate, and had come very close to dying for it. But luck had returned to him and Pat. They had been freed thanks to Pat’s father, Ellery, and the Imperial army, led by Lloyd, had wiped out the Zulus and captured most of its leaders. Stephen himself, however, had escaped along with Bernice and managed to evade all attempts to find him. Now, some years on, rumours had surfaced that there were other riders in Elfthade. Riders who wanted to bring down the Empire and murder Scott, although they called it liberating Elfthade and avenging the riders of old. The riders of old were the previous rulers of Elfthade, and had been wiped out by a rebellion led by Scott, who had built the Empire to replace them and made himself king of it. He had ruled Elfthade for over a century since then, and although it had been a time of peace and stability there were those who still hated him for his past crimes and wanted to remove him for it. Pat did not take this idealistic view. She had lived during the time of the old riders, and she did not remember it as a utopia. What she remembered was how the riders, supposedly so powerful, had been more or less controlled by the Elves. And under their narrow-minded and supremacist influence they had treated Elves as second-class citizens and slowly given more and more power to the Elves. Those whom the Elves disliked, such as the Humans, and the mysterious Elves – were made war on and driven out of their lands, which were taken from them along with their treasures and secrets. The Elves were wiped out altogether. All that remained of them was in one man, Scott. His father had been a dark elf, and he was the last man alive who knew the secrets of that lost people. Pat thought of the riders" fall as a good thing because she, too, had been persecuted by them. She had hated them and the Humans as well, for their cruelty and their prejudice. She had first fallen in love with Scott because he was the only one who saw the wrongness of what was happening, and who had the strength and the courage to try and put a stop to it. She remembered how passionate he’d been then; a mere boy, still weak and suffering from insanity and illness brought about by imprisonment and loss. But in spite of that there had been something in his spirit that had kept him alive against all the odds. It was an inner fire, which had led him to win what looked like a hopeless battle, and build an empire almost single-handedly.

And now Pat was helping him to make the empire a hundred times stronger than it had been before and was now. Before, he had ruled Elfthade by right of conquest, which was a strong enough right. The riders themselves had taken over by force. But according to the oldest laws of Elfthade that right only lasted until someone managed to kill him. The instant Scott died; whoever killed him would automatically take his place as ruler. But now Pat would change that. She knew the other law. The instant she bore him an heir, his right to rule would be automatically legitimized. Once the child was born, the death of Scott would only mean that the throne would pass to it. And the killer would have no claim at all. After a string of miscarriages they had managed to conceive a healthy child, and though Pat resented it she knew it was her duty now to stay in Umhlanga and keep safe. And take care of the empire.

She wasn’t afraid of the rebels. She would stand by her Pat’s side no matter what the cost, and she would fight for him and for their child. And if that meant going up against Stephen again, then so be it.

Chapter Two ~ Blood for an Empire

Isis flew steadily, his white wings held out stiffly from his sides to catch the wind. Thorn flew a short distance behind the black dragon, Lloyd dozing on his back. The two dragons had flown for an entire day out of Umhlanga, stopped for the night at the city of Furnost, and resumed their journey first thing in the morning. Now the Drakensburg Mountains were coming into view, and Scott estimated that they would reach them that evening or perhaps on the following morning. After that it would be a short journey to Dragons Peak. Dragons Peak was an old dwarf city carved into a mountain. He’d been there a few times, and remembered that it was an eerie place, with many hiding places in it. The war that destroyed the old riders had been fought in many places, and that had included Dragons Peak. Mostly Scott’s allies, the Forsworn, had fought on his behalf there, but he’d gone there personally at one point to deal with a particularly tough enemy who’d gone to hide there. It hadn’t been an easy fight. Dragons Peak was a good place for the brat and his rebels to lie low. The approach would be difficult. There were plenty of places for lookouts to hide, so approaching unseen would be nigh-on impossible.

However, Scott had ways of dealing with that.

Just as the sun was starting to dip below the horizon, they reached the mountains. You know what to do, he told Isis.

Isis knew. He glanced upward. There were a few pale clouds threading overhead, more than enough. The black dragon reached out with his mind. First he alerted Thorn to what he was doing, and then he set to work.

The clouds began to grow. And grow. They spread across the sky, melding into each other like patches in a quilt. The light dimmed and became dark blue-grey. Thunder rumbled, and white lightning snaked across the sky. The wind picked up. Thorn, his eyes wide with fear, took shelter by Isis’s side, flying as close to the other dragon as he dared. No dragon likes to fly in a storm. It is one of the few things that can make them panic. Isis focused his powers, and sent the storm on ahead of them into the mountains. Scott could feel the black dragon’s dark satisfaction at this. Any dragon hiding up ahead would be too frightened to take to the air… hence, no chance of getting back to Dragons Peak to alert Stephen to their presence. This was Isis’s secret weapon, and it had been an important factor in winning them the war. Now it would help them take Stephen by surprise… if he was in Dragons Peak at all. Scott considered that unlikely. In all probability the boy knew that Sanesha would have come straight to him with the news, and would have moved on. Still, no sense in taking pointless risks.

They entered the mountains without incident, with Isis’s storm going ahead of them, sending powerful winds and bolts of lightning into valleys and canyons. Anyone hiding there would be in trouble. But, so far, they saw no-one. The only living creatures in evidence were a few mountain goats. Nevertheless, they kept on toward Dragons Peak. Lloyd was first to spot the crumbling remains of the two watch-towers carved into the twin peaks they passed between. He pointed them out to Scott, who nodded. They were now in Dragons Peak. After a short flight through the deep gorge beyond the towers, they found themselves flying through a city. On all sides the rock was honeycombed with doors and windows – all now reduced to just empty holes where wooden shutters and doors had rotted away. The wind howled and whistled around them like angry ghosts, a desolate place, a dead place. But it had an uncomfortable feeling of, waiting, for something.

Isis and Thorn flew on toward the centre of Dragons Peak, on the lookout for any sign of movement. They reached the centre without seeing any, and landed on the roof of the large mountain-palace which stood there. Once a great dwarf queen had ruled there, but though her time was long gone the seat of her power still maintained some of its grandeur. Once Isis had landed, Scott pointed to a spot lower down, where a chunk of an ornamented lintel had been broken off and the stone was marred by a row of deep gashes. Remember when that happened? he asked mentally.

Oh yes, said Isis. My talons have grown a lot since then, haven’t they?

He dug them into the stone beneath him, making a series of cuts that were deep and wide enough for Scott to fit both his hands in.

Very impressive, master, Thorn’s mental voice intruded. But what about the task we’re supposed to be carrying out right now?

No need for sarcasm, Thorn, said Isis. He raised his head and sniffed. Can you see anything? he asked, appealing to all three of his companions.

Nothing, said Lloyd.

Nothing, said Thorn. Can’t see anything, can’t smell anything; then again, with this wind…

What do you think, Scott? asked Isis.

Scott scrutinized their surroundings. Nothing, he echoed. If there’s anyone here, they’re lying low.

Most likely they’ve moved on, said Isis.

Yes, said Scott. He sighed. I didn’t really expect them to linger. We’ll search the buildings and see if we can find anything. Afterwards we’ll make a search of the mountains nearby. Isis, keep the storm going. If we catch them, I want to catch them while they’re grounded.

As you wish, said Isis.

Thunder rumbled. And then light returned to the dead city; bright, golden sunlight. It shone through a hole that had appeared in the clouds, and blinded all four of them. While they were still blinking, it got brighter. The thunder died away, and the wind dropped. The clouds parted inexorably, showing blue sky beyond. The storm was clearing.

Isis! Scott shouted mentally. What are you doing?

It’s not me! said Isis. I’m trying, but,

There was a groan from Thorn. The red dragon shook his head dazedly, as if trying to shake off a fly. Then he slumped down onto his haunches, his sides heaving.

Thorn, what’s wrong? said Scott.

Thorn said nothing. His eyes had gone glazed. On his back, Lloyd drew his sword. Something’s coming, he said. I can; it’s in my head. Thorn?

Thorn remained silent. Isis nosed at him, but the younger dragon didn’t move. Scott looked around quickly. Still, there was no sign of anyone. But the storm was gone. Lloyd! he shouted out loud.

Lloyd’s eyes suddenly widened. She’s coming, he said. You must get out of here, my lord. I can’t… his voice died away. The look of fear on his face suddenly settled into one of blankness and placidity, and he lowered his sword.

Lloyd? said Scott. Lloyd, can you hear me?

There was no response. Isis gave up his attempts to wake Thorn from his trance, and turned to stare at the empty houses below them. Something bad is happening, he growled aloud. The storm won’t obey me.

The black dragon took to the air, the sunlight shining on his white wings. Sitting apprehensively on his back, all alert for some sign of movement, Scott saw it. Or, rather her.

She flew up from the depths of the city’s lower levels, and the air seemed to grow a little colder when she did. She was a dragon. Much larger than she’d been last time he’d seen her. Her scales were silver, but traced by a sickly web of vile black veins, as were her oversized, ragged wings. Her whole body was warped and twisted out of true, all jutting bones and grotesque angles. And her eyes were two black, dead pits in her face. Vervada.

Vervada, said Scott. Isis, get us out of here. Now.

Isis didn’t move. He stayed where he was, beating his wings occasionally to stay aloft but doing nothing else. Scott could feel the black dragon’s distress, and he knew all too well what was happening.

Vervada hovered in front of them, her face blank and empty of expression. He felt her mind touch his, and fended her off automatically, but her voice still sounded in his head. I cannot control you, it said. But you are in my way. And now you will die.

Scott moved fast. He held out his hand, palm-first, and shot a ball of black energy across the gap. Vervada spat silver flames, and they hit the oncoming magic and deflected it. Scott swore and struck again, faster this time. But his magic had no effect on the monster. He wasn’t put off yet, however. He unhooked his bow from its holder on Isis’s saddle, and fired an arrow, aiming for Vervada’s heart. It hit her, lodging itself between two scales, and black blood oozed from around it. Vervada hissed and snapped her teeth at the empty air, and Scott’s bow shattered, driving hundreds of wooden shards into his hands. He gasped at the sudden pain, but reached for his sword, ignoring the blood running down his fingers. His grip on the hilt was slippery, and he had trouble pulling it out of the sheath. And before he’d managed to do that he heard a blasting of air, and they rose into view.

Riders, thirteen of them. The dragons were of all different sizes, and at their head was a blue female, Bernice. And on her back was a young man who looked more elf than human, whose pale, handsome face wore an expression of Berniceble hatred. Stephen. Scott acted quickly. He pulled a dagger from inside his robe, and threw it as hard and fast as he could at Stephen’s face. Stephen threw up a magical shield, and the dagger bounced off it and fell into the canyon below. Scott gritted his teeth and sent his most powerful magic toward the other rider, one blast after another, as fast as he could… which was very fast. But Stephen blocked him every time, simultaneously shouting some command to his fellows. They struck as one.

They didn’t kill him. The magical blast washed over him and passed straight through his brain, cutting off his access to his powers and trapping inside his own head. It was a simple enough spell to cast on someone, but the backwash of so much magic sent a blast of pain rifling straight through him, as if his nerves were on fire. When he opened his eyes again, his blurred vision showed him Stephen.

Not so clever, are we? the young man sneered. This is the second time I’ve got the better of you, and this time I’m not going to leave you alive. My friends and I are ready to destroy the Empire. But you won’t live to see our triumph.

Scott coughed, and tasted blood in his mouth. He struggled to draw his sword, but his arms had gone numb and weak. And besides, what chance did he have to fight against so many, especially when Isis was out of commission?

Stephen unslung a bow from his shoulder, and notched an arrow onto the string. As he did so, Scott saw something move just over his shoulder. He glanced back at it, and saw Thorn coming toward them. For a moment, hope rose inside him. But the red dragon flew to Stephen, taking his place by Bernice’s side.

Now we’re complete, said Stephen. Fourteen of us; thirteen riders under one leader. He looked over at Lloyd, who nodded to him. Glad to join you, Stephen, he said.

Thirteen forsworn to destroy the riders, said Stephen. And now, thirteen warriors to bring them back. Is that not beautiful, traitor?

Lloyd! Scott shouted. How could you do this to me? I trusted you!

Lloyd looked at him, stone-faced. That’s because you’re a fool, he said. And now it all comes full circle… the betrayer has been betrayed.

Stephen nodded approvingly. Full circle, he agreed. He raised his bow. That creature that you fornicated with is dead, he added. We sent assassins into Umhlanga for her. The monstrous child you spawned died with her. I wanted you to know that before you died.

He loosed the arrow. It hit Scott in the arm. A second arrow got him in the chest, piercing his breastplate. Scott slumped in the saddle. The third arrow was aimed at Isis. It was well-aimed, and went straight through the black dragon’s scales and into his heart.

Isis let out a horrible howl of pain, and Scott too felt it tear into him. It was a pain far deeper than that caused by his injuries. It didn’t just strike into his heart. It was in his mind as well, and in his soul. Isis’s wings crumpled, and he plummeted from the sky. It was in that instant that Scott felt something that he had felt once before – something that had nearly destroyed him. He felt part of himself die. His mind shut down. He began to fumble with the straps holding his legs in place, aware of nothing but a desperate urge to get away from the hell he was suddenly in. The straps came loose, and Isis hit the canyon wall, flinging him out of his seat. Then he fell. And darkness swallowed him.

Evening, and Pat returned to her chambers. It had been a long day, and the silver elf was exhausted. She’d never known, before, that running an empire would be so much hard work, but it was. And it wasn’t glamorous either. She’d spent the morning attending to the accounts, spoken to twelve different officials about matters of state, which included repairs to the dam at Gil’ead, a problem with smugglers in Therinsford, a shortage of grain in Daret and the building of a new irrigation canal in Melian, and spoken to Sanesha and those of her siblings who had returned to Umhlanga in the evening. There’d barely been time for a quick lunch, and by dinner time she was too tired to eat much and went straight back to her room to rest. It was difficult to imagine that Scott had put up with this sort of thing day-in-day-out for a century. No wonder he’d been so keen to go off adventuring again. Pat just wished she could have gone with him.

She entered the room, locking the door behind her, and flopped gracelessly onto the bed. For a while she just lay there, enjoying the softness of the mattress, but she got up eventually and started preparing for bed, feeling thoroughly fed up.

While she was kneeling in front of the clothes chest, selecting a nightdress, someone grabbed her by the hair. A dagger flashed across her neck, and Pat fell backward, blood oozing from her neck.

But she wasn’t dead. She flipped herself over almost instantly, and scrambled backward away from her attacker, pulling herself upright with elfish grace. Standing by the wall, with her hand clasped to her injured throat, she found herself confronted by a black-clad human with a hood covering his face. There was a dagger in his hand, its blade stained with her blood. Only her quick reflexes had saved her; she had seen the dagger coming and had thrown herself onto the floor to avoid it.

Pat didn’t pause to think. She rushed at the assassin, taking him by surprise and bowling him over. He stabbed at her with the dagger, getting her in the shoulder, but she grabbed hold of his wrist and twisted the weapon out of his grasp. The assassin punched her in the face and wriggled out from under her. The instant he had the space to do so, he reached into his clothes and brought out a second dagger, rising to his feet and preparing to attack again. Pat got up, a guttural growl sounding in her chest – an unnatural noise which no elf could ever make. She bared her teeth, and the assassin faltered a little at the sight of them, which was just what she had been aiming for. She kicked him, hard, in the stomach, and followed it up by lashing out at him with her claws. The man threw himself at her, dagger first, and the two of them struggled together on the floor until Pat sank her teeth into the assassin’s hand and made him drop the dagger. She pinned him down, flipping him onto his stomach and twisting his arm behind his back, while outside her bodyguard broke down the door and came rushing in.

He and Pat dragged the assassin to his feet, and while the bodyguard held him still Pat said; Who sent you?

The assassin refused to answer. His hood had come off during the fight, and he was revealed as ordinary-looking but tough. The sort of man you wouldn’t look twice at in the street. He stared at Pat with hatred, and she snarled and thrust her claws into his chest, twisting them to cause him pain. The man cried out.

Answer me, Pat rasped, blood still running down her neck.

I’ll tell you nothing, the man spat back, wincing.

You’ll tell everything, said Pat. Maybe not to me, but you’ll tell it to the King.

The King is dead, said the assassin. He died at Dragons Peak today. He wrenched his arm free, and before anyone could react he had pulled a tiny glass capsule from his pocket and crushed it between his teeth. Instantly he went rigid, twitching horribly, and then sagged in the guard’s grip. He was dead.

Damn it! the guard swore. I’m sorry, my lady.

Take him away, said Pat.

Should I send a healer to you, my lady? the guard asked.

No, said Pat, turning away. I’ll be fine.

The guard left. Alone, Pat went to a shelf and opened a small box which sat on it. She took a length of bandage and some herbal ointments from it, and set about tending to her injuries, her motions automatic and emotionless. She could feel herself trembling slightly. The attack had been so sudden, so violent… and how had the assassin got into her room? Someone must have let him in. And that could only mean there were spies in the castle. The question was… who were they? Scott would know the best way of finding them. But the assassin had said he was dead. No, that couldn’t be true, never.

Pat finished bandaging her throat, and looked blankly at her hand. There was blood on it from where she had grabbed at the dagger blade. It would do. She cupped her hand, and let a little pool of blood gather there. Then she focused on it and said; Draumr kópa.

Light bloomed in the little red globule, white and shimmering. Pat, staring intently at it, focused on Scott. Show him to me. Show me Scott.

The magic responded. Its light wavered and opened up to show her where her Pat was now. But all she saw was darkness.

Chapter Three ~ Lost

Rain fell over the Drakensburg Mountains. It lashed at the peaks and poured into hollows and crevasses in waterfalls, like a miniature army trying to take the land for its own. If it was an army then its battle-cry was thunder, and its banners were the lightning. And its voice was the wind. The storm had returned, and it was back with a vengeance.

The sun had gone by now, and night claimed Elfthade once again, a night without stars. And still the rain fell.

It fell on the dead city of Dragons Peak. And it fell into the deep pit below the palace of the dwarfen queen, drenching what lay down there among the broken stone. A black dragon with white wings was by the base of the cliff, the arrow that had killed it still sticking out of its chest, and its limbs lying brokenly over the ground beneath it.

Not far away from the dragon was a man. He lay on his back, his left arm twisted underneath him, his long hair matted with blood.

The rain, drumming on his face, woke him up. He opened his eyes. But he saw nothing, only darkness. He blinked vacantly and tried to sit up, then slumped back. The motion disturbed his left arm, which burnt with horrible, white-hot pain. He let out a little cry and lay very still, frightened to move again. Eventually he tried moving his other arm. This one seemed to be uninjured, and he pushed on the ground with it, levering himself upright. Once he was sitting up, he rested his back against a rock and gingerly eased his left arm out from beneath him, gritting his teeth as he did so. Once it was lying uselessly across his lap, he felt it carefully. His fingers seemed to know what to do, and they located at least two broken bones. Without even thinking, he began checking the rest of his body. His right thighbone was completely shattered, with a piece of bone actually sticking through the skin. The other leg, however, appeared to be fine, though badly cut and bruised. He tried feeling for broken ribs, but his chest was strangely… hard. He undid his robe, and found a sheet of metal underneath, black steel. It was a breastplate, that was it. With an odd symbol on it that looked like a twisted flame.

There was a piece of broken wood sticking out of it, just above his heart. There was blood on it. When he touched it, it hurt.

Once again, his fingers knew what to do. They wrapped themselves around the piece of wood, and pulled, hard. It took several attempts to remove it, but he persevered. He paused, winced, and pulled again, and eventually it came out. It was much longer than he’d thought, tipped with metal and covered in gore. He examined it for a moment, and then threw it aside. There was a second piece of wood stuck in his good arm, but he had no way of removing it, so he left it alone. Once this was done, he sat back to rest and try and take stock. So, he was alone and hurt. Would someone come to help him?

No. The answer arrived in his head almost