We're Going on an Elf Hunt (Book 3 of The Guardian League)

Prologue

High Lord Slooti Falinus Halabrinner, Banishment Ceremony for Galadrindor Arafaemiel Terebra’an

I took no pleasure in Banishing Galad. His parents had been old-fashioned, but they’d been as close as family once, eons in the wind. And I’d raised Galad like one of my own children. Still, Galad had wrapped himself up in the mess with the trolls, sealing his fate. Things had gotten out of control ever since he’d disappeared a century before. As the most powerful Empath alive, his own pathetic debauchery had cast a pall on generations of elves. He’d made it easy for me to rule. Since he’d disappeared, all the unrest in the outlier worlds had begun to simmer on El’daShar. I needed to rein them all in, for their own good.

No attempt to break Galad out of prison had materialized, despite Paragondriel’s report that a dwarf intended to do just that. Said dwarf may have recovered the Amp from the troll’s treasury, though more likely the Infected had killed the dwarf back in the AllForest. We would go back after the Banishment and look. I might have to use Gavriel for that… Paragondriel claimed the ‘Port location to be overrun by the Infected, but Gavriel would chance it. For me.

We’d maintained a tight guard on Galad and the troll, thwarting any thought of rescue. And the Banishment Chamber sat ready. We were crossing Avalark’s Bridge, and I sighted the end of the problem called Galad. The Banishment Stone, Hughelas’s gift. I chuckled at my joke, then scowled when Tarandrigal glanced my way. The Stone, a yellow gem—moving specks of darkness would be visible within were I closer—sat atop a small stone dais grown from the cave floor. A ring of rock poked up from the floor, its breadth several strides long, marked the floor where the field would appear that whisked away those who needed to go. Only one elf knew how it worked. Well, one elf that I hadn’t Banished. And I’d held that elf under lock and key for centuries. Possibly millennia. My, how time flies.

A sudden movement and a blow like thunder rang out in the bore, startling me out of my reverie, unbalancing me when the bridge beneath me shuddered. A squat but hulking form had jumped out of nowhere and pounded the bridge with a war hammer. The dwarf? I stood stunned—not by the fact that he struck the bridge, endangering us all, but by the sight of the hammer itself. How could a dwarf wield that hammer? I cast a spell of levitation on myself. Tarandrigal, the AirWorker, shoved the dwarf back before he inflicted a second blow and sent us plummeting. Not that I would have fallen, but it would be a chore to regrow the bridge.

“Activate the Stone!” I shouted to Paragondriel. “Get the prisoners inside its field!” Once we caged the prisoners, there would be no getting them out. And then we would focus on the dwarf and whoever he had brought with him.

But no other antagonists joined the fray, and though he fought like a madman, there was only one of him. We had him outnumbered and outmatched. Still, if his antics somehow freed the prisoners, they would be difficult to recapture—I could not use the trick that had captured them in the first place. Not with so many elves around. But while the dwarf engaged my warriors, Paragondriel activated the Stone, and the prisoners, still bound and Compelled through their enchanted shackles, marched inside the translucent field. Done.

The dwarf backed toward the field, hemmed in by my people. He must know he has lost. Why does he look triumphant? He secured his weapon and pulled out… Mother of Trees, he had the Amp! The dwarf’s eyes locked with mine—they held no sign of fear or resignation. Once in the field, the prisoners could not be retrieved. If he didn’t know that—if he didn’t realize his actions were futile—it made him all the more dangerous. He began a spell, and I dropped to the ground, throwing a magical shield over me for protection, not knowing what to expect.

Nothing happened.

I pulled my eyes up from the dirt—the dwarf’s eyes laughed at me. He wasn’t a mage. I’d kill him for that bit of trickery.

“You don’t know how to use that,” I barked, reining in my rage. “Get that jewel from him,” I commanded my people.

“Here,” the mongrel said. “It’s yours.” The smirking, muscle-bound oaf threw the Amp high in the air in my direction. The Amp, one of the most powerful artifacts of magic yet encountered—all that I needed to complete my plans—flew to the top of the large cavern and arced back down. I dropped my shield, diving to catch it, but Tarandrigal also attempted to snag it using a cushion of air. The combination resulted in the Amp hitting my head, then colliding with a stalagmite and shattering.

No!

But then it struck me that the Amp wouldn’t have shattered. Couldn’t have shattered. I needn’t even have tried to catch it. It had been forged by a world whose natural pressures were too much for an elf to survive for even a minute—it would not break so easily. I’d been duped. Again. I would kill that dwarf twice over.

Burning with anger, I prepared to lance him with a bolt of fire that would separate his cocky head from his troublesome body. But I found he’d joined Galad in the field. He sat upon a trunk that I hadn’t even seen… more trickery… holding… Feathered Demons, he had the Amp! I shouted for Paragondriel to stop the device, but I knew halting the Stone was impossible. And a moment later, they vanished.

Mother of Trees with the Feathered Rutting Demons!

I took a few breaths.

“Get a StoneWorker to mend the bridge,” I said, as the elves around me tried to avoid my attention. Giving orders helped me to focus. “Paragondriel, take me back to my chambers, please.”

Elves hustled to follow my commands. Paragondriel ‘Ported me back to my chambers, and I sent him away. He left eagerly enough, not wanting to chance my anger. And he chose well. I burned. But I also had something I wanted to do that I didn’t want Paragondriel to see.

Once I was alone, I brought out a glass globe that fit in the palm of my hand, filled with a white coruscating liquid we had picked up from troll-mining. The last troll-mining we would be able to do. I couldn’t find another Amp… not with the trolls all gone. My plans were coming undone. Were there other creatures who could survive those harsh climates besides the trolls? There had to be. But how would I find them, with the clock ticking? How would I save my people? How would I save myself?

The flashes of light from the white liquid drew me out of my mental death-spiral and back to the task at hand. Like the Amp, the fluid was imbued with a Gift, enabling manipulation of the underpinnings of magic. I’d put some in a tiny glass affixed to the clasp of Galad’s shackles. It was just a little test. An experiment.

I cast a spell, not my Talent, but one I’d mastered to such an extent that it might as well have been. A Vision spell, one which enabled me to see around corners, through walls—which had been foundational in becoming the High Lord—and I’d practiced it a great deal. I sent it into the liquid. As before, it tried to show me many things… too many things. Lightning storms wreaking hell upon the world where we had found it; a vision of me, peering into a globe of coruscating white liquid; my own bed-chamber, where I’d left another globe after first stumbling upon the liquid’s quirky twist on magic. But I pushed that all away, concentrating on the tiniest speck. I latched on to the vision of that horrible dwarf, working the shackles loose from Galad, having already freed the troll. Light shined forth from the hammer—further proof of the hammer’s identity.

He snapped the shackles off with a chisel, and they dropped to the ground. My view changed, looking up at everyone. They armed themselves with equipment from the trunk. Damn that dwarf! That chest… I’d encountered it before and hadn’t realized its enchantment. Damn him! I’d been so close! Damn them all! Once they had what they wanted, the troll picked up the chest, with the ease of an elf picking up a small end-table, and they left me in the dark.

Other duties demanded my attention, but one thing I’d learned repeatedly: chance favors the attentive. I’d learned to feed the liquid, make it grow, and I’d begun to fashion more. All the while I Watched through it, and the act of peering into the darkness, waiting, kept me afloat in the sea of wretched elvish discord that continued to boil. I lost track of the days, one of our worlds after another declaring their independence, and then worlds disappearing, one after another. It serves them right! But my vigilance paid off; at first I thought I dreamed it when the vision shifted from darkness to light. But if I had been asleep, the adrenaline jolt would have shot me out of bed. The light grew, and I twitched with impatience as someone entered the chamber. Chance favors the attentive: she came in.

My heart stopped when I saw her. After so long. Hughelas, you naughty, conniving elf, I will have to change your guard. Elliahspane Baelsbreath... Elliahsaire daShari Fortiza… Elliah… ‘Leah. She’d aged, which I had never seen in an elf, but after fifteen millennia on a planet with a dead sun, that price she’d paid was cheap. She took up the discarded shackles, and like the witch she was, looked right at me. With the blink of an eye, the spell died. But I’d seen enough.

If she had survived that long on a planet with a dead sun, then I had a chance. A new plan took root in my mind.

Chapter 1

Galad

“So, can we go back now?” I asked. It wasn’t a need to get off the planet—if anything, I’d come to like Earth. No, I wanted to get back to what I’d left behind. Yes, it also moved us closer to saving her world, getting the Mana’Thiandriel we needed to protect it. I could use that. No one would question that motive.

Mort chuckled. “In a moment,” he answered, ogling the retreating form of the red-haired young woman covered in blood and ichor. She had dropped behind the others when she’d slipped on a bit of goo that had dropped from her rifle. “Hair the color of flames is not something I have seen before.”

“We’re saving a world, and you’re delaying it to look at someone’s hair?” I said, my disbelief sounding thin in my own ears. Who was I to say that, given my own motive for leaving?

“It’s not her hair I’m looking at,” he answered.

“And your big hurry,” Hirashi said to me with a mischievous grin, “is all about saving the world?”

Fair enough. I wanted Red to know we had convinced Hirashi to part with Mana’thiandriel. I wanted to see her reaction, wrap my arms around her… okay, he could have his moment to stare.

“Humans don’t live very long,” Elliah commented, “and yet they so often let opportunities pass. I’ve always found it a little sad.”

Mort’s eyes got big, and he disappeared, reappearing down the hall in the path of the red-haired soldier.

“That’s better,” Elliah smiled, then twitched in that queer fashion of hers. It wasn’t as extreme as it used to be—she was getting better. Healthier.

“Indeed,” Hirashi echoed, a sad smile playing across her face. I had no difficulty believing that the young leader had let some opportunities pass her by—leadership had a price.

“Why is that better?” I asked, irritated at the delay despite my understanding. Hirashi and Elliah shared a look.

“If ever I needed proof that you are an Empath that stays out of people’s minds,” Hirashi stated, “this is it.”

Women. Who wants in their minds anyway?

Rocks maneuvered toward us, skirting outside the train of people heading through the tunnels to the stairs. Medics had carted Staci, a mage rendered unconscious in the battle, to the elevator atop a gurney, and the doors had swallowed her up. The medics would find no physical wound—she’d drained herself of mana. She needed rest.

Rocks inched forward, placing his artificial leg with precision, in order to navigate the grime that had dropped from those who had ‘Ported back from the fight. His jubilant expression contrasted his cautious movements. “We did it, Galad!” he cheered, as he grew near, holding up his hands in a gesture I recognized from my time spent with Red’s psyche stuck in my head. He meant for me to slap hands with him, but I stood, frozen, recognizing the gesture too late.

He corrected and put his hands on my shoulders, patting them.

“You all did it!” he said, turning to include our whole group. Hirashi and Elliah smiled at him, but their enthusiasm burned less brightly than his, and his smile dimmed. “What?”

“I’m burdened by knowledge, and frightful of what has become of the elves,” Elliah said. Elliah looked different... younger than I remembered. Her skin was smoother. She caught me looking but said nothing.

“And I am still frightened for my people,” Hirashi echoed. “You may be able to fight the Infected, but neither is this world a safe haven. Also, if the Infected adapted to track the elves…”

“They can adapt to this world,” Rocks concluded, his enthusiasm dampened. “Damn.”

Rocks looked down at his feet—the one real and the other artificial. I stayed out of his head, but I didn’t need magic to see how our words wearied him. He closed his eyes, took a breath, then eased them open, plastering on an encouraging smile.

“Well,” he said, rallying, “we saved El Paso from getting nuked, so that will play well on the news.”

“Harry is going to be so angry that he wasn’t there,” I thought out loud, buying me several strange looks. I shrugged. Nothing for it.

Mort popped back into our group, smiling mischievously.

“Can we go back now?” I asked again, ready to get back and share the news with Red.

“As I recall,” Hirashi said, “you were going to show us around this world some.”

I sighed. That had been the plan. “I thought, with that battle, we’d convinced you.”

“I am convinced that you can fight the Infected on your world, but I’d still like to see something that convinces me you have the population you mentioned. Are all of the battles like that one?”

“No,” Elliah said, “that one was rough. Usually we deal with but a handful. We’ve only had one other battle like that one, and the results were much less favorable—the entire city and its surroundings were destroyed.”

“What stopped them that time?” Hirashi asked.

“I did,” Elliah answered. “With a weapon that kills entire cities in one blow. It was… terrible. And necessary.”

After a somber moment, I helped Rocks enjoy his victory. “But this time,” I said, “we stopped them. And we will get the Mana'thiandriel and stop them again. Let’s do a tour of the world we’ll be saving.”

Chapter 2

Staci

I opened my eyes in a hospital room, confused. I wiggled my fingers and my toes. My blood coursed through me as it should, the liquid kissing my magic. Hospital equipment stood at the ready, but none forced their unwanted attention upon me. Other sources of water called out in greeting—a sink in the room and pipes in the walls, an adjoining bathroom, a bottle of water, and another person.

“You’re awake.” Phillip peered at me over his laptop, the tip of an AirPod protruding from his ear. He faced me from a short couch set up for visitors. The laptop brightened the dark room, outshining both the dim glow coming from night-lighting over the bed and the New York City glimmers illuminating the window.

He set his laptop to his side and rose, the constrained light from the screen brightening the back of the couch and casting the doorway into shadow.

“Am I okay?” I asked.

“Galad says you are. You just needed rest.”

“Then why the hospital?”

Phillip shrugged. “They were just being cautious. They cleaned you up, double checked for wounds…” He shrugged again. “Now, they’re keeping an eye on you,” he said, pointing up at a tiny red LED.

“And you?” I asked. “Why are you here?”

“The same. Just wanted to make sure you were okay. That was quite a fight.”

Fight.

Memories swirled. Blood, darkness, bodies all around me. I couldn’t make sense of it, and my panic spiked. My breath wouldn’t come.

“Whoa, whoa, it’s okay,” Phillip said.

But it wasn’t okay! I couldn't remember why, but it wasn’t okay. Something had me trapped! Pinned down!

Phillip reached out and I swatted him away, not even able to shout “Get off!” over my labored breathing.

“What the hell!” he shouted, but he wasn’t looking at me. I followed his eyes to find an Infected stepping out of the shadows of the doorway, stalking toward my bed.

The window shattered, glass flying in and slicing into the Infected. Wind and shrapnel pushed the monster back toward the door, which rattled in its frame from the force of the rushing air. My head throbbed with the increased pressure as the gale circled the outside of the room, moving the couch and bed in a swirl as it searched for an escape.