LibertyCon, and a sneak preview of an upcoming work!
So, time for my intermittent post- I’m working on getting better at it, but I’ve been getting online with a new job and various other real life things. You all know how that goes.
So, I’m finally making Libertycon this year! See me with the Cannon Publishing team and get some updates on the fun stuff we have coming out this year. In the meantime, here’s a chapter from my upcoming novel of the Fae Wars- Tentatively Entitled ‘Demon Core’. Enjoy!
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“The Quick and the Dead”
University of New Mexico
Maxwell Anthropology Building
Albuquerque, New Mexico
In the main hall of the museum, Maria, Eliria and Laura walked from display to display, looking for the telltale blue glow that told of enchanted items. Approaching a case full of what looked like rusted scraps, Maria pointed. “Those are kind of glowing.” She peered at the plaque. “Crossbow bolt heads.”
The elven woman approached and held her hands out over the case for a moment. Her hands glowed blue briefly, then faded. “They were enchanted but not well.” The elf peered at the bits of rusted metal. “It looks like they enchanted iron crossbow heads with a piercing enchantment. Designed to penetrate arcane shielding and the iron…” She shuddered. “Nasty weapon.” She looked up and her eyes caught a large display case. “What’s that?” She moved over to it and repeated the spell, then squealed in delight. “This is a cannon and it has enchantment remnants on it!” Pressing her face and hands against the glass like a child at a candy store, she chattered excitedly, “Do you realize what this means?”
“No.” Maria replied flatly. “Nor do I care. Is it the item of power?”
“Oh no.” Eliria replied dismissively, “Its power faded long ago. But don’t you see? It means that humans maintained the capability to enchant items with powerful arcane effects for at least fifteen hundred of your years after the First Era!” She moved around, angling for a better look, “This would be the first indigenous enchanted item that wasn’t directly connected to the great magi from before the Sundering!” She shook her head in wonder, “And you people just have it sitting here!”
With a frown, Laura replied, “Are you saying that the Spanish had magic users with them?”
“Maybe!” The elf replied excitedly. “If they didn’t, whoever made this certainly had access to an enchanter with training in the old arts.” She tapped the plaque. “This says it was cast in southern Spain, near Salamanca.” She shook her head and added wistfully, “Oh, I wish I could go there. There’s probably a ton of other evidence there!”
“If it’s not what we’re looking for, then forget it.” Maria pointed towards the next case. “There’s something really bright over here.”
Reluctantly, the elven woman followed, her eyes on the ancient cannon. In the next case, there was a strong blue glow around a slender, well preserved dagger. The blade was flat black, with sharp looking edges and the hilt looked to be of beaten gold. Maria squinted at the plaque. “Says here its a Spanish style dagger found in the seventeen hundreds and thought to be from the Coronado expedition, but later determined to be a well done forgery from some later time.” She looked at Eliria, who was staring at the dagger, her mouth hanging open. “Is it powerful?”
“Oh yes.” The elven scholar replied, her eyes locked on the dagger. “But it’s not Spanish and its certainly not from the past couple hundred years.” She concentrated, her hands glowing again. As she did, she spoke, “It’s an elven dagger but a really old design.” She frowned, “I can’t quite tell what the enchantment is.” She looked at Maria and added, “It’s really old.”
“You said that.” Maria retorted acidly. “Is it valuable?”
“No. No, I mean really old. Like ‘old’ as in elven old, not human old.” She peered at the dagger under the glass. “In human years…Maybe twenty thousand years?” She tilted her head and thought. “There’s stories of a series of five legendary daggers from the First Era that were made from the rains of fire during the Dark Ages, but…” Her voice trailed off.
“Rains of fire?” Laura asked, curiously, “Like actual fire or meteors?”
“Powerful and dangerous stones rained from the sky for a year, devastating cities, killing thousands and setting entire forests on fire. The ancient ones used them to make weapons and those weapons were used in the Kinslayer Wars.” The elf replied. “Or so the stories say.” She pointed at the dagger. “If this is what I think it is, there’s only three others remaining in existence. One is held by the Imperial family as part of the Imperial Regalia, the second is held by the Monks of the Moon in the Temple of Eoriun and the third is rumored to be in the familial vault of House Tavor.”
“So.” Maria stared down at the slender dagger in the case. “Rare, really old and powerful.”
“Yes.” Eliria admitted. “Powerful enough that my basic identification spell isn’t working on it.”
Maria looked at Laura. “Can you open that case?”
The woman frowned, “Maybe. They’re usually locked. We might have to find the key.” She peered at the case. “Let me look for a minute.” She looked up at Maria. “You’re going to take it?”
“Yes.” Maria replied promptly. “I will leave nothing of value to the elves and if it gives us an advantage, I’m all about that.”
“I guess.” The woman replied. She moved around the case for a moment, inspecting the case, then announced. “I’m not sure I can get into this without the keys. It’s a reinforced display case, with a double lock.”
“Can we smash the glass?”
With a frown, the archaeologist replied. “I don’t think so. It’s probably reinforced safety glass. It’s designed to be hammered on and not broken.” At Maria’s frown, she explained, “Museums have valuable stuff in them. The cases tend to be serious business.”
“Damn.” Maria muttered. “Oh well.”
Behind them, the double doors slammed open and Ben shouted, “Maria! We have to go!”
On the far side of the hall towards the stairs they had entered from the double doors slammed open and a half dozen dark clad shapes flowed in, rifles at the ready. Several more slim shapes in black followed, with brightly glowing wand tips. Someone shouted in elvish, then chaos erupted.
The rapid crack of several pistol shots from Ben sent Maria, Laura and Eliria diving to the floor. The ‘SNAP-CRACK’ of a firing wand could be heard, as well as several hard slaps as a suppressed rifle opened up.
“MARIA! MOVE!” Ben could be heard yelling hoarsely over the gunfire. Maria rolled over into her back and pulled her pistol, swearing. She worked her way to a sitting position against the case they had just been examining. The archeologist and the elven woman lay flat with their hands covering their heads. Taking several sharp breaths, Maria scrambled to her knees then popped up and aimed the pistol at the nearest figure, now just a dozen years away and squeezed the trigger several times. The figure grunted in surprise and its body armor flashed blue as the rounds impacted onto the enchanted equipment. The figure dropped out of sight, then popped back up with a wand glowing.
“Shit!” Maria exclaimed and fell flat. The bolt of energy hit the display case blasting a massive hole in the thick security glass. “SHIT!” Maria yelled again as a droplet of molten glass landed on her hand. Shaking her hand rapidly, she peered around the side of the case then threw herself backward as a dark figure nimbly rolled around the corner and fired the wand again. Thrusting her pistol forward, she squeezed the trigger again a half dozen times. The elven soldier yelped in pain and dove for cover. Maria scrambled backwards and ran into Laura, who was still facedown on the ground. “GO! GET TO THE BACK OF THE ROOM!” The woman nodded and rolled over, her eyes wide in terror. As she rose to her hands and knees, a silver bolt of energy hit her on the leg. She screamed and reached out for Maria, her eyes full of terror. The silver of the bolt spread from the point of impact, racing across her leg. Where it spread, her clothing and skin turned to firm, silvery metal. In a matter of a half second, where the archeologist had been was a lifelike metallic statue; the look of terror frozen on her face, her now metallic lips still pleading for help. Horrified, Maria scrambled backwards on her hands and feet. She started with a half scream when someone grabbed her arm.
The elven woman’s face was inches away, her eyes similarly wide in fear. She shouted, “She’s gone! Let’s go!” She tugged at Maria’s arm, pulling her towards the rear of the room. The crack of bullets, the smashing of glass and the hissing sizzle of arcane bolts flying across the room was overwhelming, a cacophony of violence that drowned everything else out.
Maria rolled onto her feet and took a fast look around the case towards where the figure had vanished. The two groups of men were trading wand bolts and gunfire across the museum, running, shouting and taking cover behind the display cases. Crouching back down, Maria’s eyes came level with the shattered case with the dagger. Seeing it right in front of her face, she impulsively reached out and grabbed it. At that moment, the elf lunged around the edge of the display case only feet away, bringing a wand to bear. Reflexively, Maria raised her pistol only to see the slide locked back. With a curse, she hurled the empty pistol at the elven soldier then raised the dagger and lunged at the figure with a scream of fury.
The two tumbled to the floor in a heap, with Maria on top of the armored figure. In the tussle, his mask slipped, revealing the delicate features of an elven soldier. He was clad in finely wrought black leather armor, and having dropped the wand in Maria’s initial charge, was trying to sit up and go for a long, thin dirk at his hip. With a snarl, Maria reached out with her left hand and leaned her body weight into him, driving him to the floor. With the other, she brought the ancient dagger around and slammed it into the elf’s chest, the blade sinking in as if the armor wasn’t there. As the blade went through the armor enchantment, there was a ‘snap-pop!’ and the elf jerked as if he’d been shocked. Maria hesitated a moment, then seeing the elf twitch, eyes senseless, jerked the dagger out and slammed it down again and again, hearing the snap and seeing his body jerk each time as she did.
A blur of motion out of the corner of her eye made her whip her head around just in time to see a shape lunge out of the darkness and tackle her, tumbling her forward from where she knelt atop of the now dead elven soldier and behind a display case. She screamed, more in surprise and rage than fear and struggled to get her assailant off of her back. A strong hand pinned her wrist with the knife in it to the ground. Seeing her empty pistol on the ground in front of her, she desperately grabbed at it as she tried to escape the weight pinning her to the ground.
A familiar voice hissed in her ear. “Maria! Stop! It’s me!” Maria froze, then twisted around and looked into the violet, fear filled eyes of Eliria. “Be quiet! I think there’s…”
There came the sudden, rapid barking of automatic weapon opening up, which was answered by a distant chant from the side of the room with the elven soldiers. Eliria’s eyes grew wider and she opened her mouth to say something. Before she could there was a burst of gunfire, the chant ended in a screaming gurgle and a bright orange bolt streaked for the glass ceiling some floors above. It detonated in a brilliant orange and red ball of fire, sending showers of glass and twisted metal falling towards the museum floor below. Eliria rolled off of Maria’s back and under a display case, covering her head with her hands. Maria, seeing an open double door a dozen feet in front of her, lunged desperately- hurling herself through the doors into the darkness beyond as a large chunk of red hot steel crashed down where she’d been laying a split second before. She fell into the darkness, tumbling down a set of stairs, striking her head on the floor as she came to a stop. Dazed, she shook her head. Still clutching the empty pistol and ancient dagger she looked up blearily at two massive armored figures in the familiar flat black armor of the Imperial Orcish Army, who regarded her curiously.
***
Bursting through the door, Ben shouted, “Maria! We have to go!” In the middle of the large room, he could see the three women jerk towards the sounds of his voice, startled. Across the room, the doors they had entered flew open, and figures started to move out, with the fluid, practiced movement of trained soldiers. Next to him with his pistol already out, Clayton dropped into a shooters stance and opened fire. Pulling the pistol from under his shirt, Ben yelled, “MARIA! MOVE!” and opened fire on the figures. A slim figure barely visible in the distance made the unmistakable slinging motion and a bolt of white energy scorned across the museum display floor. It hit a display case with a mannequin wearing the clothing of a Zuni warrior and blew it in half, setting the remnants on fire.
“Lad!” Denim shouted from behind him. Ben whipped his head around to find a suppressed rifle flying at him. The rifle struck his shoulder and bounced off. Ben scrambled to pick it up. Denin was reaching into a small bag the size of a lunch sack and pulling another rifle out and handing it to Clayton, who was swearing and reloading his pistol.
Seeing the rifle, he grinned broadly and snatched it. “Fuck, yes!” He looked at Ben and called, “I’ll suppress. Get the girls!” He popped over a display case and let loose a half dozen shots, then ducked as several magical bolts screamed past his head. “Shit!”
Seeing a nearby display case Ben paused, then charged; mentally whispering to himself the training mantra he’d been taught and taught thousands of times. ‘I’m up, he sees me- I’m down’. He dove onto his stomach just as a burst of bullets struck a display case over his head and a wand bolt blew a chunk out of the wall. He crawled into the cover of a display case and clambered to his knees.
“Oi!” Ben looked over at the dwarf, who had now produced a bandolier of ammunition and slid it across the floor. Ben snatched it and draped it around his neck. He waited until Clayton paused, then popped up and fired a half dozen shots and repeated his move between display cases towards the wall. There was a close burst of pistol shots, then a woman screaming in terror; then another scream- but this one of fury. From behind him came a blood curdling yell in the guttural Dwarvish language, then Denin opened up with a belt fed automatic weapon. The bullets stitched across the elven soldiers side of the room, causing them to dive for cover. One of the elves stood and began chanting, his hands glowing red. Denin yelled something to Clayton, who nodded and took careful aim and squeezed off several shots. The first few flashed off of the chanting elven mage’s armor, but the next hit and penetrated the armor’s arcane shield right as the elf wound up like a baseball pitcher, a bright red ball glowing in his hand. The round struck the mage in the throat and the melodic chanting ended in a gurgling scream. The ball of fire shot out of the stricken caster’s hand as he fell and struck the glass roof several stories above. The explosion rattled the room and flaming chunks of structural steel and shattered glass rained down. Ben flinched and turned his face as the wreckage came crashing down, then rushed forward again, his eyes searching the darkness. He trained his rifle on a figure scrambling on its hands and knees towards him then raised the muzzle as he recognized the wide eyed, terror stricken face of the elven arcanologist. The elven woman stopped under a display case a row away from him and gasped for breath.
“Where’s Maria?” He called.
Wordlessly, the woman shook her head. “Fuck.” Ben risked another look over the display cases. He saw another elf rise and begin chanting and dropped down again. Clayton opened fire again from the rear of the room but the bullets flashed harmlessly off of the elf’s shielding. Eliria cocked her head listening, then suddenly rolled out from under the display case and began chanting rapidly herself. Her hands and arms began to glow blue and arcane symbols danced and changed in the glow. She then lept to her feet, clapped her hands and thrust her straight out from her body and shouted the last syllable. The blue glow shot out of her hands onto the floor, creating two long, wide lines of frost on the floor. The lines raced out from the slender elven caster, reaching the walls and shooting up then meeting far overhead, jumping over the hole left by the fireball. The second the lines touched, a wall of ice began to grow. It grew up from the floor, out from the walls and down from the ceiling at a frightening pace, closing in on the center- the elven caster. Eliria paused, then dove forward landing on her face just as the ice rushed into where she’d been standing, sealing the hole. A moment later, several hard bursts of arcane energy hit right where she’d been standing and dissipated harmlessly on the massive, crystal clear wall of ice that now separated the room into two. Several bullets fired by Clayton chipped at the wall, then a deadly silence fell onto the room as the two sides ceased fire. Ben cautiously peered over the display case, then stood and regarded the elves and their human soldiers for a moment. There was no sound but that of the cracking of claims from the multiple small fires in the room.
Across the room, a figure was also standing. After a split second, it walked towards the wall of ice. Ben could see it was a male, dressed in finely wrought black leather armor. He was armed with a bow slung over his shoulder and held a wand in his, casually pointed at the ground. Fearlessly, the elf walked up to the wall of ice, then unexpectedly laughed with delight. He pointed playfully at Ben and called, “And here I thought this was going to be a boring assignment!” His voice was slightly muffled by the ice wall but clearly audible. “You are a slippery one, my friend.”
Almost unable to help himself, Ben stepped forward towards the ice wall and faced the elven soldier. The two regarded each other silently for a moment through the ice. He eyed Ben for a moment, then spoke thoughtfully. “You must be the insurgent the local humans are calling you ‘The Coyote’.” He tilted his head. “It is not an impressive animal, this coyote. I have seen them. Tell me, why do they call you this?”
“I don’t know.” Ben replied. He met the elf’s eyes steadily.
After a moment, the elf spoke, “Ah, but I forget my manners. I am Lord Glian Kearthy of House Tavor.” He bowed courteously, “I am…a specialist in matters of subterfuge and the like.” He fluttered a hand dismissivly and continued. “I have been tasked with stopping you.”
“I figured.” Ben replied. “How did you find us?”
“You know I can’t tell you that, my dear fellow.” The elf lord replied reproachfully. He reached out and tapped the ice. “This is really quite clever. I did not know you had a caster or I would have planned differently.” His friendly eyes hardened, showing a flash of menace. “You will not surprise me again.” His eyes flicked past Ben and his expression turned sad. “Oh, my. It looked like you have led an innocent to their death. Again. How tragic.” Ben turned and saw the lifelike silver statue of the archeologist. He turned back to the elf lord, his lips tight. “Oh yes, I know who you are, Benjamin Franklin Yazzie, United States Marine Corps- and I know all about you.” His eyes glinted again. “And I know your friend, too. The widow Maria Escobal Hernandez, formerly of the province of Phoenix.” Lord Glian raised his delicate eyebrows theatrically and added with a touch of a leer, “She has such a nice figure. I can see why you keep her around. Perhaps I won’t return her to Lord Aruen when I am finished with her.”
Ben listened to the elf lord’s taunts in silence, then turned and called to Clayton, “Time to go.”
“But we’ve only just begun our friendship!” The elven spymaster called from beyond the glass.
Ben stopped, then turned back around and came to face the elven lord again. He regarded him for a long moment then said in a matter of fact voice. “I’m going to kill you.” He then turned and walked away.
“Idle threats!” The elf lord called as he left, “I thought you were better than that, Mr. Yazzi! More refined!”
As Ben jogged back to the far side of the museum, he called to Eliria, “How long will that ice wall last?”
“A couple hours.” The elven woman replied, promptly. “And it should withstand anything that won’t bring down the building.”
“What about Maria?” Clayton demanded. “We can’t just leave her!”
From where Denin had set up his light machine gun, they could hear a delighted laugh, then the dwarf’s head popped up, “Lads, dinna worry about Maria. She’s out o’ the buildin’ already.” The dwarf held up the modified iphone. “She just entered the parkin’ lot.”
Ben pointed at Max. “Back way out?”
“Theres…uh…” The man replied, still in shock. He shook his head to clear it. “Stairs but it only goes to the second floor.”
“Good enough. Let’s go.” Ben reloaded his rifle and ordered, “Lead the way.” The stunned anthropologist nodded and obediently led the way into the dark museum.
***
Looking up at the massive orcish soldiers, Maria laid on the floor, breathing hard. The orcs traded a look, then one raised his crossbow. “Wait!” She blurted.
The orc lowered his crossbow and looked at his comrade. “Did she just say ‘wait’?”
“She sure did.” The second orc replied. He leaned over, his massive armored hands on his knees and inspected Maria. The black iron mask with the grotesque gargoyle-like faceguard inspected her for a moment, then he spoke. “Do you speak Uruk?”
“I…” Maria stopped, puzzled. She was hearing the orc speak in his native tongue, but she could understand him perfectly. “I didn’t think so but I can understand you.”
“Huh.” The orc responded. After a few seconds, he straightened up. “Well, that’s strange. Good job on learning our language, I guess.” He looked at the other orc. “Do it.”
The second orc raised his crossbow again. Maria held up the empty pistol and dagger. “Wait!”
With a pained sigh, the orc lowered the crossbow. “What now?”
“I uh…” Maria desperately searched for something to say when she saw the white slash painted on the orc on the left’s pauldron. “You’re a warmaster! Isn’t there something about not killing pregnant woman?”
The orcs traded a look again, then the one on the left laughed and shook a massive finger at her. “You’re a clever girl. Yes, I am a warmaster and yes there is but you aren’t pregnant.”
“How do you know?” Maria demanded, sitting up. “I’m very early on.”
“We can smell it.” The one with the crossbow replied. “Pregnant women of any species smell differently.” He tilted his head and leaned down. There was a snuffling, then he froze and took a step back and raised the crossbow. “Daron. That blade.”
The warmaster leaned forward again and inspected the ancient dagger, then sniffed. He stepped back and regarded her, his helmet impassive. After a second, his voice boomed. “That blade is wet with the blood of an El’dori.”
“Yeah.” Maria replied, dropping the facade. She dropped the empty pistol and struggled to her feet. “It is.” She stood defiantly facing the two orcs. “And it’s not the first elf I’ve killed either.”
The orcs were silent for a moment, then the one with the crossbow spoke carefully, “This little one may be dangerous, Daron. She is not afraid of us.”
The warmaster regarded Maria for a moment, then reached up and pried his helmet off. His face was scarred and grotesque, with his tusks gleaming in the poor light. He crouched, bringing his face close to Maria’s.
“Tell me, my ferocious little friend.” The orc’s clear gray eyes locked onto hers. “Where, pray tell, did you kill an elf?”
“In the woods outside of Payson.” Maria replied, flatly. “We had defeated her orcs and she tried to surrender.”
“Why did you kill a surrendered enemy?” The orc asked, his eyes boring into her. “It is not your way.”
“I did not accept her surrender.” Maria replied flatly. “She invaded my home. She killed my children and family. She burned everything I love to ash, so I cut her throat.”
“With that?” The orc indicated the ancient dagger.
“No. With a switchblade.” Maria steadily returned the orc’s gaze. “I watched her as her life drained into the dirt. I wasn’t sorry then and I’m not sorry now about your precious fucking elf lord.” She smiled grimly. “I’m only sorry I didn’t take more of them with me.”
The orc straightened up and glanced at his comrade, then back at Maria. His face was troubled. After a moment, he sighed and said, “I have a conundrum, little one.” He glanced up at the stairs, where the sounds of fighting had ceased. “I have been told to detain anyone exiting this stairwell with any amount of force I deemed necessary.” He looked back down at Maria. “Make no mistake, I bear no love for the elves but I am duty bound to follow my orders.” He hesitated, and eyed Maria standing defiantly in front of him, then added, “I also admire a woman who is not afraid to wet her blade, regardless of her species.” His eyes glinted. “I will not ask where you obtained that dagger.”
Suddenly Maria remembered the runestone that Ar’osh had given her. She reached into her pocket with her free hand and held the brilliantly polished onyx stone with the glowing red rune on it out. “Will this change anything?”
The two orcs stared silently at the runestone for a moment, then the one with the crossbow muttered, “It changes everything.”
The warmaster, his eyes locked on the runestone spoke, “I don’t know what you did to earn Warmaster Ar’osh Dragonslayer’s sigil but if he trusts you with it, we are no one to argue.” He turned to the other orc. “This group of humans came down in full force, overwhelming us. They hit you in the face with the butt of one of their scatter rifles and attacked me with an enchanted weapon. We returned fire but did not get any of them.”
“I obey.” The crossbow bearing orc fired his weapon at a wall, the bolt skittering and bouncing to the ground. He then rolled his shoulders, then nodded once. The warmaster slammed an armored fist into his helmet, sending him crashing against the wall, where he twitched once and lay still.
“Now slash me.” The big orc commanded. His lips twisted in a grotesque smile. “But gently please.”
“Thank you.” Maria breathed a sigh of relief. She raised the dagger.
“Wait.” The orc said. Maria lowered the dagger. He reached to his belt pouch and handed her a small bundle of what looked like matches. “Firesticks. Use them to cover your flight. Just strike and throw but throw them quickly because they get hot very fast.”
“I understand.” Maria raised the dagger again, then made a slash at the orc’s armored stomach. There was a ‘crack-pop’ and the orc sailed backwards and hit the wall of the stairwell. Where the dagger had struck the flat black armor, there was a deep, silvery scratch. The smell of ozone and hot metal stung her nostrils.
The orc was wheezing and whispered, “I did not expect the shock.” His eyes rolled back in his head and he slumped over, his breathing becoming deep and regular.
Maria stood still for a split second, then whispered, “Thank you, warriors.” She then snatched up her empty pistol and rushed down the stairs. Several floors down, she saw what she was looking for- a set of fire doors. Exiting the museum into the dark outside of the campus she found herself in a parking lot, empty save two black panel vans that sat with the doors open. She stared for a split second, then it clicked. She cautiously moved to the van and peered inside. Seeing no one, she put the pistol in her belt and carefully set the dagger down. She pulled the firesticks out of her pocket and stepped close to the van then struck one of the firesticks. It started with a flare like a normal match but in a matter of seconds grew hot and too big to hold. She yelped as the fire nipped at her fingers and flung the firestick inside the cab of the first van. She then turned and did the same to the second van. Turning and seeing the entire drivers compartment already ablaze on the first van, she gave a hard smile of satisfaction, tucked the ancient dagger into her coat and fled into the cold darkness of the night, leaving the smoking museum, blazing vans and the sounds of sirens wailing in the distance behind her.
***
Quickly walking through the parking lot, Ben led the small group. Reaching the sidewalk, he stopped and cocked his head. The wail of sirens was drawing closer, and coming from multiple directions. “We need to get off the streets.” He stated. “Maybe…” He stopped, looking at Denin.
The dwarf was crouching by a storm drain, staring intently into the dark area. He then leaned close and whistled into it, then cocked his head. He then straightened up and pointed at a nearby manhole. “There. Go!”
“That’s…” Clayton started.
“We don’t argue with dwarves about being underground and we have to hurry.” Eliria snapped. “Lead the way, Master Dwarf.”
Moving surprisingly fast for his stocky frame, the dwarf moved towards the manhole and pulled a stout iron bar from the seemingly bottomless pouch at his hip. “Need yer weight, lad.” He muttered to Clayton. Clayton obligingly threw his body weight onto the bar. A split second later, the manhole scraped open. Denin shoved the manhole aside, then stood on the edge of the dark hole for a moment then without a word, jumped in. Clayton hesitated. Elira impatiently shoved her way up, peered down for a moment, then muttered something in Elvish and jumped in, vanishing into the dark.
“Fuck!” Clayton swore. He looked up. “Doc, you’re next. There’s a ladder here. Go!”
With a terrified look on his face, the anthropologist clambered awkwardly onto the ladder and headed down, with Clayton right behind him. Ben crouched by the manhole, watching the street. As soon as Clayton was partway down, Ben followed, stopping as his head was level with the street. He turned and hauled the manhole cover over the opening, then froze. Across the sun baked asphalt, sitting in the shadow of a cresote bush barely visible in the moonlight, he could see the tan shape of a coyote, its yellow eyes locked onto his. Ben and the coyote stared at each other for a split second, then the screeching of tires drew his gaze. Down the street, he could see a black and white Albuquerque police car screaming around the corner with the lights flashing and the siren wailing. Glancing back at the shadows of the bush, the coyote was gone. Ben shook his head once and lowered the manhole closed, continued down the short ladder and stepped down into the pitch black storm drain as the police car shot past overhead.
Stopping for a moment, he called out softly. “Everyone ok?”
“Aye. We’re here, lad. Let me find a light fer ye.” The dwarf’s comforting brogue broke the darkness. There was a quiet chant, then a burst of blue-white light silently drifted out of Eliria’s hands and hovered just over her head. The dwarf gave the elf a surprised look. She shrugged wordlessly. “Aye. That’ll do.” He pointed off into the darkness. “That way.”
“I’m already turned around.” Clayton muttered. “How do you know?”
The dwarf cocked his head at the young man as Eliria laughed, her tone nervous and exhausted. “You don’t know much about the dwarves, do you?”
“Clearly.” Clayton replied, sarcastically.
“No one is more comfortable underground than the dwarves. This is their world; a world of darkness and stone. It is unheard of for one of the dwarfkin to get lost underground.” She gestured at the tunnel stretching into the darkness. “If he says to go, then we go.”
“Lead the way.” Ben ordered, brusquely. “We need to get back to the safehouse. Once we’re there, we can plan our next moves.”
“Wait. What about Maria?” Clayton asked, the tension still thick in his voice.
“Nothing we can do.” Ben’s tone was tight. “She either made it out or she didn’t. If she did, she’ll find us. She’s a smart lady.”
“And if not?”
“Then we’ll come up with a plan to get her back.” The Navajo replied tersely. “Because we’re not leaving one of our own to the elves. In the meantime, we need to get this stuff and ourselves out of here.”
Clayton was silent for a moment, then nodded reluctantly. “Okay.”
Ben turned to Denin. “Lead the way, and remind me to ask you about coyotes.” The dwarf nodded once and strode grimly off into the darkness of the storm drain. The small party followed in silence.
***
Several hundred yards away in the opposite direction, Maria stuffed her hands in her jacket pockets and forced herself to walk calmly down the sidewalk. Taking several deep, slow breaths of the cold desert air, she watched several police cars come rapidly around the corner with lights and sirens blaring. She watched them slide into the parking lot and the officers burst out and enter the smoking museum, drawing their weapons. She watched for a few more seconds, then turned and walked calmly into the night, her mind racing and her heart sick with worry for her friends.
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Coming Summer 2024!