A Thunder of War (The Avalon Chronicles Book 3) Page 3

  The elf’s expression brightened and he replied.

  “What did he say?” Layla asked.

  “What year is this?” Irkalla said. She turned to Mordred. “You understand this too?”

  Mordred nodded, before also speaking in ancient Mesopotamian.

  The elf looked confused.

  “I asked him why he was here,” Mordred said. “He doesn’t understand. I do have an idea though.” He spoke in a language that almost sounded like what the elf had said, but the elf shook his head.

  “Blood elf,” Mordred explained. “I spent enough time in their . . . company. I can speak the language. Apparently, it’s different enough from elven that he can’t understand it.”

  The elf took a step toward the group and pointed at each of them in turn before pointing to his head.

  “He wants to telepathically link with someone,” Irkalla said. “It’s how elves transferred information.”

  “That seems like an extraordinarily bad idea,” Remy cautioned.

  “Do you speak elven?” Irkalla asked. “Because either he learns our language, or we learn his. And apparently, his ancient Mesopotamian is a little rusty.”

  Irkalla said a few more words to the elf, but he looked confused for a moment as if trying to understand, and then shook his head.

  “Not Latin, not Egyptian, not Babylonian, and not ancient Greek,” Irkalla said. “He didn’t understand any of those languages. Not surprising, considering elves weren’t exactly friendly toward the Earth realm.”

  In the strangeness of seeing a member of a race long thought extinct, Layla had forgotten about Zamek’s presence until he started walking toward the shadow elf, who had remained at the top of the stairs.

  “Zamek, please don’t kill him,” Remy said as the team watched Zamek’s every move, while a low rumble left the throat of the giant.

  “Yes, let’s not piss off the giant,” Harry said.

  Zamek looked over at Remy, and then back to the elf. He spoke softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

  The elf smiled and replied, nodding his head. Tears fell from his eyes and he dropped to his knees.

  “What did you tell him?” Layla asked.

  “I just said hello in dwarven,” Zamek said. “He hasn’t seen another soul in a very long time. I told him he’s been here for thousands of years.”

  “How many thousands of years?” Layla asked. She looked at the rest of the group. “Do you all understand this?”

  Chloe nodded. “We spent some time in the dwarven realms, and while we were there we underwent a procedure to speak dwarven.”

  “At least four thousand,” Zamek said. “The rock doesn’t lie. His cell was closed that long ago and it has never opened until just now.”

  The shadow elf spoke to Zamek, who nodded.

  “He wants to telepathically link so he can learn your language, and see what happened to the world beyond,” Zamek said. “I think Layla should be the person to do it.”

  “Why?” Layla asked.

  “He can’t link with a human, so Harry is out,” Zamek started. “I don’t think Mordred is a very good idea, just in case the elf sees some unflattering things—no offense.”

  “None taken,” Mordred said.

  “Irkalla’s older than anyone here, but all of that knowledge at once might do something to his head. Remy is . . . just no one wants to get inside his head.”

  Remy laughed, and then looked serious for a second. “Hey.”

  “That leaves Chloe or Layla. Layla has been in our world the shortest time, so there will be less for him to have to digest. You’re the only one here who can’t speak dwarven, so at least you’ll get that knowledge. Also, if this goes wrong, the rest of you can tear the giant and elf into pieces.”

  Layla took a step forward, hoping there wasn’t about to be a fight if either side felt that the other was doing something they shouldn’t.

  Zamek said something to the shadow elf in dwarven.

  The elf got to his feet and held out his hands, which Layla took. The elf looked over at Zamek and said something.

  “He wants to know if you’re ready,” Zamek said.

  Layla nodded.

  The shadow elf placed his forehead against Layla’s and for a second she wondered if this was the stupidest thing she’d ever done. And then the world switched off.

  She watched the elf’s life through her own eyes. She saw his childhood, the bullying from the sun elves; they were impossibly beautiful creatures with skin the color of porcelain, but the mean eyes of a predator. She saw the shadow elf grow with his people, begin a close friendship with people in a human village in the Earth realm, only to have a group of sun elves kill everyone in the village just to teach the shadow elf a lesson. She saw the shadow elf demand justice from his council, saw them refuse. And then she saw the shadow elf hunt the sun elf and kill the murderer of the people he loved. Four sun elves died at the hands of the shadow elf, and still his rage and grief were not sated. To prevent a war they locked him away, and then he woke.

  Layla saw so much more; she saw realms she’d never visited, hundreds of years of life and friendships rolling over and over in her head until she understood their words, their customs, and their lives. And when it was done, and the shadow elf released her hands, she dropped to her knees, her head pounding from the overload of information.

  “Tarron Lycor,” Layla said softly. “That’s his name.”

  “Layla Cassidy,” Tarron said. “It’s a . . . pleasure to meet you. Your history is now in my head, although it will take time to unjumble. I have many questions.”

  “I know why you’re here,” Layla said. “I saw what you did. I felt their blood splatter against my skin.”

  Remy was the first to move, his sword drawn.

  “No,” Layla called out, stopping him. “Tarron killed the sun elf who murdered people he cared for.”

  Tarron nodded. “I saw you kill the man who betrayed you. His name was Jared.”

  Layla took Chloe’s offered hand and got to her feet, ignoring the comment.

  “What are blood elves?” Tarron asked. “What happened to my people?”

  3

  LAYLA CASSIDY

  The giant at the end of the room shouted, “Do you plan on making me able to understand?”

  Layla blinked. “I understand the giant.”

  Tarron nodded. “It will be easier if he can understand your language.” Tarron got to his feet unaided and walked over to the giant, performing the same power with him that he had with Layla.

  “Can we trust him?” Mordred asked.

  Layla nodded. “I think so. The sun elves had him imprisoned here because he murdered their prince—the man who killed Tarron’s friends. It was meant to stop the civil war. There’s still a lot of his memories that are jumbled up. I’m not sure how long it will take before everything stops feeling like my head is in a snow globe.”

  The giant let out a roar of pain, causing everyone to quickly turn toward him as he dropped to his knees and pounded his fists on the stone floor.

  Tarron was kneeling beside him, and placed a hand on the giant’s shoulder as if comforting the creature. “He did not deserve this,” Tarron said, his voice coarse and full of emotion.

  “I think some explanation is in order,” Mordred said. “A lot of explanation, to be honest.”

  “I am a criminal,” Tarron said as he walked over to the group. “The sun elves murdered the human village. They wiped them out because I spent time with them and was learning their ways. The sun elves felt it was beneath me to associate with them. They butchered my friends, and their families, just to make a point. When it became apparent that the shadow elf High Council was unwilling to do anything to jeopardize the peace that existed between the two elf people, I murdered everyone responsible. That included a sun elf prince.”

  “Sounds reasonable,” Mordred said.

  Tarron smiled. “I thought so at the time. The High Council did not. I was sent
enced to a thousand years imprisonment in this place. The prison that the elven races had created with the help of the dwarves. The giant over there is Dralas. He was to ensure no one woke us up, or tried to help us escape. Unfortunately, I was put in here at the same time as one of the devils.”

  “Mammon,” Irkalla said.

  “Yes,” Tarron confirmed. “And once he was in here, those who put him here didn’t want any chance that he might wake up. So they sealed the prison. With Dralas and me inside.”

  “I’m sorry,” Chloe said.

  “Me too,” Tarron replied.

  “Dralas is your jailer?” Layla asked. “But he’s more than that. He’s your friend. And your bodyguard.”

  Tarron nodded.

  “Who are you? A prince?”

  “I was the son of an elder. That brought certain . . . privilege.” Tarron sighed. “Essentially, I was a prince in all but title. The children of elders are expected to either follow in their parents’ footsteps, or dedicate themselves to a noble goal: science, art, music, that kind of thing.

  Bettering the species by bettering yourself. It was something my mother used to say. She was the elder in question.”

  “What about your dad?”

  “He was a guard. Parents weren’t required to stay together to raise the child. They would each take the child for an amount of time to teach them their ways, and when the child was old enough they chose which path to follow. It would probably be considered a fairly . . . hippy upbringing.”

  Layla smiled. “I did not expect that word to come out of the mouth of a several-thousand-year-old person.”

  “Your human words are confusing. Also, why do you have so many languages? Dwarven. Shadow elvish. Sun elvish. Done. So many languages is something I’m not sure I’ll get used to.”

  “It’s just one of the cool things about living in a world with so many different regions and societies, I guess. I never really thought about it before.”

  Tarron stared at Layla. “The blood elves. What are they? Like I said, your memories are jumbled, and I’m too impatient to wait.”

  “There was a civil war,” Layla said. “Between shadow and sun elves.”

  “Yes,” Tarron said with a sigh. “It happened after I was placed here. We lost.”

  “You did. And a large number of shadow elves were imprisoned by the Norse dwarves.” Layla remembered the rest as it had been explained to her, but trying to tell someone that his entire race of people had been mutated into murderous savages was not something she’d ever wanted to do. She found it hard to get the words out.

  Irkalla placed a hand on Layla’s shoulder. “Would you like someone else to continue?”

  Layla nodded. Her head was still a mass of information, like someone had taken a puzzle, jumbled all of the pieces up into a bag and then told someone to put it together without seeing what it was meant to look like.

  “When the shadow elves arrived at the dwarven kingdom of Nidavellir they were given the task of mining the pure magic crystals that were in the bottom of the mountain,” Zamek said from the top of the stairwell. “It took centuries, but eventually the magic tainted them, turning them into monsters. They attacked the city, murdering many, forcing most to escape. They’re called blood elves. They destroyed my people, and to this day they continue to murder my friends and loved ones. They are a blight on this and every world they touch. There’s nothing left of the shadow elves. You are the only shadow elf I’ve seen since the day they tore apart everything I cared for.”

  Tarron stared at Zamek for several seconds, his mouth agape. “I do not know what to say.”

  Zamek shook his head. “I know that some people in my position will look at you and see the monsters your people became, but I don’t. I don’t blame you. I blame the people who helped twist the shadow elves. I blame Abaddon, and Arthur, and Hera, and every single one of them who wanted a powerful soldier and cared little for who they killed to get it. The sun elves have vanished. I have no idea where, but my guess is they’re still arrogant, still impressed with their own intellect, and wherever they are, they can bloody well stay there.”

  Tarron walked over to Zamek and knelt before him. “I am sorry for what my people have done to yours.”

  Zamek smiled. “Get up, you fool. You’re no more to blame for what happened to my people than your giant friend over there is for us being trapped in here. You want to feel bad, feel bad later when we’ve managed to get the realm gate working and can get out of here.”

  Tarron got back to his feet. “There’s a realm gate in here?”

  “Dwarves made it,” Dralas boomed.

  “Do you know why?” Remy asked.

  “They are . . . odd.”

  “Well, I’m not disagreeing with him,” Remy said. “But they can’t have made a partial realm gate just to further their own weirdness.”

  Tarron looked to Zamek. “He insulted your people. Are you not angry?”

  “He’s Remy,” Zamek said. “He insults everyone. And if you’re going to get angry every time someone insults your people, you’re going to have a really hard time on the Earth realm.”

  “And the internet,” Mordred said. “Don’t go on there. Ever.”

  “Layla remembers the internet. It’s some sort of information center.”

  “Porn and trolls,” Remy said.

  Tarron looked confused.

  “I assume the information you took from my head will filter through,” Layla said.

  “It will take time but . . . ah, trolls. Now I understand.” He tapped the side of his head. “I remember all of you. Layla’s memories of you are mostly fond ones. Except for the pain, blood, fighting, and death.”

  “Yes, except those bits,” Layla said.

  “You are warriors of great power,” Tarron said. “You are on a quest to warn your friends.”

  “You don’t have to repeat everything you remember,” Mordred told him. “Trust me.”

  Tarron nodded thoughtfully. “I know realm gates. I know the dwarven language. Though I eventually became a teacher, I spent time with the dwarves while serving my time as an emissary for my people.”

  Everyone looked at Layla.

  “If you’re going to look for confirmation every time he says something, we’re going to be here a while,” Layla said as knowledge of Tarron’s past began firing in her head. “Yep. Teacher. You taught languages, culture, you tried to get the elves to embrace all other species. You spent time with various other species.”

  “The shadow elves were keen to integrate,” Tarron said. “The sun elves were not. They hated humans, thought they were beneath us. Didn’t have much fondness for witches, weres, vampires, or dwarves—not even sorcerers, which is odd considering how powerful elves can be with magic.”

  “Anyone not elven?” Chloe asked, interrupting him.

  “Oddly no,” Tarron said. “They liked elementals very much. I think that was because they could tap into something that the sun elves wished to control. The elves can use magic, but not the same magic that elementals use. I think a lot of sun elves were jealous of elementals. They saw it as some sort of affront to their own power. Magic has no effect on elves . . . although considering those magical crystals were responsible for my people becoming blood elves, apparently there is a limit to how long we can be exposed to it.”

  “So magic just doesn’t work on you at all?” Layla asked.

  Tarron shook his head.

  “Nor on blood elves for the most part,” Mordred said. “It’s what makes them such a pain in the arse to fight. Although some on the Earth realm seem to be more susceptible to its effects than those we met in Nidavellir. Oddly enough, blood elves can’t use magic.”

  Tarron sighed. “Another part of what we used to be is now nothing more than memories.”

  “I’m sorry,” Layla said.

  Tarron sighed again. “I have a lot to learn about my place in the world order that exists today, but right now we have more important problems to de
al with.”

  “I’ve killed blood elves with my umbra power,” Layla said almost to herself, before immediately wondering how Tarron was going to react to the idea that she’d killed people who used to be his kind.

  “What’s an umbra?” Tarron asked. “Oh, wait, I see now. You were fused with spirits and a drenik inside a spirit scroll. That was something being worked on when I was still free, but it was not something the majority of elves agreed with. A lot of sun elves were all for it, as they considered humans little more than something to experiment on, or to use for cheap slave labor.”

  “The more I hear about sun elves, the more they sound like the kind of people who deserve to be slapped,” Chloe said.

  “I won’t disagree with that,” Dralas said.

  “Zamek said you’ve been in here for over four thousand years,” Irkalla said.

  “Five thousand years,” Layla replied. “And I’m rounding down.”

  Tarron’s mouth dropped open, and he fell to his knees. “I need more information about what happened during my time here,” he said, almost pleading. “Layla isn’t old enough, doesn’t have enough first-hand knowledge.”

  “Not a chance in hell,” Irkalla said with a shake of her head.

  “You don’t want to be in here,” Mordred said, tapping the side of his skull with his finger. “Promise you that.”

  Tarron nodded. “We get out of here, I get to learn more, yes?”

  No one had a problem with that.

  “The realm gate is down below,” Zamek said.

  “I can see if I can help,” Tarron said. “I know something about realm gates. Maybe together we can get it to work.”

  Zamek shrugged. “It’s worth a shot.”

  Zamek and Tarron went down the stairs, with Remy, Harry, and Irkalla following. Layla wondered if the latter wanted to keep an eye on Tarron because they didn’t trust him, or Zamek because his calmness was something no one had expected. Either way, she was grateful that the dwarf and shadow elf would have other people in the room with them.

  “Tarron is a good elf,” Dralas said softly. “I volunteered for this duty to keep Tarron safe from retribution. Some sun elves were unhappy that Tarron was allowed to live.”