Dragon's Egg (Dark Streets Book 2) Read online

  “I’m not a mage, my lady, only a witch. An alchemist by training, but with no special abilities that other Elves do not have.”

  She regarded me, then said, “So you aren’t able to tell that Altinir is a weather mage?”

  “But he’s not. He’s a battle mage and a portal mage. You’re the weather mage.”

  “And Lady Minirin?”

  “She’s a healer, and also a diviner.” I shook my head. “I don’t understand. Such things are plain for anyone to see.”

  Minirin held out her hand, holding a polished and carved stick about two feet long. “And what is this?”

  “A vincintor. For use on plants, not for people or animals.” Vincintors were magical devices used to diagnose illnesses. Such artifacts were created by alchemists, and I had manufactured my share. I had never seen the need for those that were used on plants. Surely anyone could tell why a plant was sick.

  “And this?” Erinir asked, holding up a round red crystal the size of a golf ball.

  “I believe that is a ruby,” I said, trying to keep my eyes from popping out of my head. I had never seen a gemstone that large in my life. It had to be worth at least two fortunes.

  “Yes, but what kind of magic does it hold?” she asked.

  “None,” I answered.

  She held up her other hand with what looked like a twin to the first ruby. “And this one?”

  I stared in astonishment, and my mouth went dry. “Danu merde. That holds enough energy to blow this house to the moon.”

  The three of them exchanged looks.

  “Despite what you may think,” Altinir said, “Not a one of us at this table can do what you’ve just done. Nor have I ever met anyone who could. Not here, not in Alfheim. Most mages would need to cast a spell to divine the nature of these objects. You have a very special gift.”

  “And that is why we have asked you to come,” Erinir said. “We received reports of your abilities in tracking down a statue, and we need to find an object.”

  “What kind of object?”

  “Someone has brought a Dragon’s egg to Earth.”

  Chapter 2

  The living arrangements in Alfenholm were probably rustic in comparison with the grand castles of the nobility in Alfheim, but the room I was given far outstripped anything a farm girl from Midgard had ever experienced. The bed of goose down was so soft and warm that I had trouble sleeping. Or maybe I couldn’t sleep because I was bothered by the thought of a Dragon on Earth. The Gods and Archdemons occupied the two upper realms—balancing Order and Chaos. Dragons, along with Elves, Angels, and Aesir, were the pinnacle of sentient life in the three hundred sixty lower realms. The predators at the top of the food chain, so to speak. Humans, the wolf and cat shifters of Were, the demons and Devils of Hel and some other realms, and the Vampires formed the next tier on the evolutionary ladder.

  Whereas Humans, Elves, Angels, and Aesir followed the Gods, Dragons—along with Devils, the various forms of demons, and Vampires—paid homage to the Archdemons. An individual Dragon was far and away the strongest of any of the races, both physically and magically.

  Young Dragons, for their first hundred years, were mindless carnivores, driven solely by instinct. Even their parents feared them, and as they grew older, they became almost indestructible. In their realm, immature Dragons were kept far from civilization, confined to valleys in mountains so tall that they reached past the breathable atmosphere. When their brains finally matured, they were brought out of the mountains and allowed to take their place in society.

  In the realms near their own, Dragons were feared far more than demons. They usually hunted elsewhere, but occasionally came to Midgard and Alfheim. I saw one when I was young. It terrorized the eastern coastal plains where I grew up for over a decade and defeated every mage who engaged it. Finally, a circle of thirteen mages overwhelmed it and killed it.

  A Dragon, especially an immature Dragon, on Earth would be a disaster.

  Every time I fell asleep that night I dreamed of the Dragon I saw as a young girl. By the time the magelights brightened, signaling daybreak, I was tired of that Dragon and ready to get up.

  Breakfast consisted of buckwheat with nuts and fruit, salted fish, yogurt, and strong black tea. My hosts had many questions as to what foods I had found to substitute for the ones they were familiar with in Alfheim. They were very friendly and offered to share seeds they had brought with them to Earth. I relaxed. Having a friendly conversation in my own language in what felt like familiar surroundings seemed to peel away the stress of the past summer in Washington.

  We moved to a cozy parlor deeper in the barrow with tea and little Elven fruit cookies that I hadn’t eaten since leaving Midgard.

  “How did you hear about me?” I asked.

  Altinir said, “We have inserted our people at the highest levels of most of the major governments. It wasn’t difficult, and since there are so few of us in this realm, we felt the need to understand the environment we are living in. The FBI has compiled a rather large amount of information on you. Just as we crave information about this Human realm, so the Humans are obsessed with trying to understand those they call paranormals. They have an enormous team assigned to the Alfenholm in Colorado.”

  The people they had ‘inserted’ had to be powerful mages, able to hold a glamour without effort. Any kind of simple measures couldn’t disguise a seven-foot Elf with pointed ears and funny-colored hair.

  I swept my arm in a wide circle. “It appears as though you plan to stay here for a while.”

  “We have to eat,” Minirin said. “This is far more comfortable than a crowded, stinky place such as London.”

  “The situation in Alfheim is dire,” Erinir said. “My husband was killed in the war, and the enemy captured our lands. Elhandirhin has fallen, and the High Elves have withdrawn to the mountains. Prietnar attempted one assault on the Eyrie, and his forces were crushed, so he withdrew to the plains.” She took a sip of her tea. “He sent one expedition against the Wood Elves, which floundered. So, things have settled into a stalemate, and we have no idea how long the current situation will last. We made the decision to leave, as did many other clans. Some went to other realms. We came here, and some of us will probably never leave. Personally, I rather like it here.”

  I knew that the queen in Alfheim ruled over the High Elves in Midgard and a dozen other realms. Trade and travel through the great portals kept the realms close, much as the airplane had done for the continents on Earth.

  Prietnar was king of the Dralf, the Elves who lived beneath Alfheim’s southern mountains. A king was a foreign concept to my people, and he was widely known to practice the blackest of magic. An uneasy peace had reigned throughout my lifetime, but several years before the Beltane disaster, his army had invaded his neighbors. Betrayal and death had led to the fall of High Elhandirhin, glowing city of the Elves, the most beautiful city in all the realms. From what I had heard, the war spread to Midgard and the other realms where Elves had settled.

  Midgard was the closest realm to Alfheim, populated by Elves, Dralf, Dwarves, Goblins, and Trolls, but also by Humans, who comprised a third of the total population. With the realms being next to each other, realm walkers easily slipped between the two realms, and regular commerce between the realms was carried on through the great portals. But I had never been to Alfheim. It was an almost mythical place to the common people of Midgard.

  Of all the sentient species, Humans had spread the farthest and lived in more realms, which was odd as there had never been a documented Human realm walker. Through the ages, many had been taken to other realms as slaves—for labor, food, and the gods only know what else. In many realms, they lived free. In Midgard, for instance, slavery was outlawed thousands of years before. I thought it was interesting that Elves were now migrating to Human realms.

  “Tell me about this Dragon egg,” I said.

  “Many of our young folk have enrolled in Human universities,” Altinir said. “Most here i
n Iceland, but a fair number in Ireland and England. Two weeks ago, a young man who is a student in Dublin saw a Dragon’s egg for sale in a market there. He contacted us, and I flew there immediately. Unfortunately, the egg was gone, as was the merchant selling it.”

  “We need to find it,” Erinir said. “If anyone manages to hatch it, the devastation would be incredible.”

  “And considering what has happened in China,” Altinir said, “one can only imagine what these idiot Humans might do.”

  Normally, the three hundred sixty realms, or dimensions, were separated from each other, but some magics could open a way between them. Mages called that ‘parting the veils’. At certain times, most notably at Beltane and Samhain, the veils thinned, and how much was somewhat influenced by celestial alignments. Two years before, the veils had thinned so much that they ruptured.

  When that happened, the Chinese used nuclear weapons against an invasion of demons. That shredded the veils, causing disruption across all the realms. Chaos had become the norm. Even non-walkers from other realms sometimes just appeared in Washington, confused and completely disoriented. I had learned to watch carefully for unexpected shimmers in the air that might signal a sudden rift in the veils. People walked into such shimmers and never reappeared on Earth.

  “So, what do you want me to do?” I asked.

  “I don’t know what you planned after your trip to Ireland, but we are hoping you can track the egg down,” Erinir said. “We are willing to pay for your travels, and your time.”

  “I usually shut down my business in the winter and travel. After Samhain, I planned to travel in England and then cross over to the European mainland.” I shrugged. “I like to go shopping, looking for items and ingredients to use in my alchemy.”

  They all beamed at me. When Elves smile like that, the poor creature they’re smiling at often becomes dinner, so it was a bit disconcerting.

  “Good,” Erinir said, with the finality of a hammer striking a nail. “Valinir will accompany you. And now, I have things to attend to. I’ll send him to give you a tour of our holding.”

  And with that, she stood and swept out of the room. The other two followed her. I was left with my mouth hanging open, staring after them. Valinir? The tall, handsome young battle mage? And what in the hell was I supposed to do with him?

  I changed into some warmer clothes. Being able to withstand cold, wet weather didn’t mean I enjoyed it. I grew up in a warmer place than Lady Erinir’s clan holdings. Sure, I could survive outside in a zero-degree blizzard, but it was far more pleasant to do so wearing snow boots and a heavy parka.

  Valinir showed up at my room also dressed for the weather, and before we went outside, he handed me an overshell of oiled canvas. The storm of the day before had returned.

  He took me around and showed me the sheep and cattle herds, the new birch forests they had planted, and the greenhouses. That was the part that interested me the most. That and the schools. It had been a very long time since I saw or heard an Elven child.

  Valinir was a perfect tour guide and a perfect gentleman. All Elves were polite, but his manners seemed more refined than the commoners I grew up with. Maybe it was the formality, something in which farmers and fishermen were unschooled. I caught him watching me several times, and he attempted some light flirting, something that both amused me and strangely warmed me.

  We also stopped by the lake, and Valinir picked up a sack of fresh fish from the fishermen for our evening meal. He let drop that Erinir’s entire household—not including the servants, of course—would be at dinner. Evidently a wild Elf with a long tenure in Earth’s realm was an attraction everyone was anxious to meet.

  As far as I knew, my cousin in Ireland was a commoner, so I assumed I would not be sitting at table with lords and ladies when I visited there. Therefore, I found myself looking forward to my first, and possibly only, formal dinner with Elven nobility. Then I had a minor panic attack, thinking of the one nice dress in my luggage. I had made it, as I did almost all of my clothes, expecting to wear it for Samhain. But compared to the spidersilk shawl Minirin had given me as a welcome gift, it was quite plain. Thinking of Erinir’s and Minirin’s gowns at dinner the previous evening, and the elegant embroidery of Altinir’s tunic, I succumbed to a moment of despair.

  It didn’t last long. I was a successful merchant in my own right, and proud of what I had accomplished since coming to Earth. The years I spent working in restaurants, cleaning hotel rooms, and digging ditches were nothing to be ashamed of. I reached my station in life through honest work, not theft or an accident of birth. Screw the nobility if they didn’t like my wool gown embroidered by my own hand.

  Lady Erinir awaited me in my room when Valinir and I got back to what the local people called The Household.

  “I don’t know if Valinir told you, but we will be dining formally this evening,” she said. “I hope you aren’t offended by my presumption, but I didn’t know if you brought clothes for such an occasion.” She chuckled. “I know that when I travel, I’m more concerned with comfort than style.”

  With that, she gestured to a gown hanging off the front of the wardrobe. Dark green and shimmery, with gold-and-silver-colored embroidery on the bodice and a gold-colored belt.

  Embarrassed, I said, “I have a gown I brought to wear at Samhain.”

  Erinir laughed. “And if it’s anything like what I plan to wear for Samhain, it’s wool, and warm, and practical, for all its style.” She stepped closer and smiled. “Take the dress. I know that you feel yourself the equal of anyone, and I think you are. Don’t give some old busybodies an excuse to treat you as less.”

  I bit my lip, then said, “Are you a mind reader?”

  “A mother. You’re about the same age as my daughter. She stayed behind, joining the forces defending the Eyrie. A more independent and stubborn daughter than any mother was ever afflicted with. Except perhaps yours. Take the dress because it will make me happy.”

  She leaned forward and kissed me on the cheek, then turned and left the room, pulling the door closed behind her.

  Chapter 3

  Holding my skirts up to keep them from brushing the floor, I climbed the steps to the great hall. I felt like a queen as I emerged from the stairwell and gazed on the festive scene in front of me. The silk-satin gown caressed my skin and heightened my senses to a battle pitch. I wore the only jewelry I owned—a moonstone pendant that was my father’s present.

  Women in a rainbow of beautiful gowns and men in fine embroidered tunics milled about, sipping wine from fine crystal glasses. It wasn’t the palace at Elhandirhin, but it was as grand as I’d ever imagined such an occasion would be. I hadn’t expected to see so many people, but the table had been extended to hold them all.

  Minirin walked up to me with a smile and handed me a glass. “Welcome to Alfenholm on Earth,” she said. “Come, let me introduce you.” Under her breath, she muttered, “Be strong and trust in the Goddess. No one ever died of boredom at one of these affairs, but many have thought they might.”

  Many in the crowd were older—Altinir’s generation—and more were of Erinir’s age. Those close in age to me, among them Minirin and Valinir, were definitely in the minority. A couple of comments I overheard led me to believe that most of my generation had stayed in Alfheim, either fighting in the war or dead.

  Even with my memory, I was challenged to remember the names of all the people I was being introduced to, and I was grateful when we were called to dinner.

  Lady Erinir honored me by seating me at her left. Altinir sat at her right, where her husband would have sat had he lived. Actually, the Elven word she had used didn’t exactly translate to husband, more like consort, though even that didn’t capture the Elven concept. When people lived a thousand years, relationships tended to be both more complex and also simpler than those between Humans.

  The word she had used meant ‘father of one of my children’—with an inflection that meant the woman was fond of the man and stil
l in a relationship with him. Erinir hadn’t used the word indicating that they were hand-fasted, so they hadn’t made the relationship permanent.

  Servants in constant attendance served a feast such as I had never seen. Fish, beef, lamb, and fowl, root vegetables, cabbage, various kinds of breads, fruits, and oceans of wine. I tried my best to answer questions and engage in conversation, but by the time our meal was cleared and fruit custard was served with agavirna, I was as exhausted as I had ever been fighting a demon.

  As the gathering broke up, Minirin and Valinir rescued me, handing me a heavy woolen cloak and spiriting me out a side door. We walked along a stone path to another mound, where they ushered me into a dark doorway. It opened into a dimly-lit public room, filled with young people, ale, and lively music. After the suffocating formality of the dinner, it felt as though I had emerged from prison into sunshine.

  Most of the people were well-dressed and spoke High Elvish. I was sure there were other pubs in the city where I would have felt more comfortable, but I still enjoyed it. Unfortunately, I had drank a fair amount, and my Midgardian accent unconsciously came out, along with a few phrases in Low Elvish. Of course, everyone understood both dialects, but a noble would never fall into the common language unless he or she was a soldier.

  A man sitting at the table next to us was wildly drunk, singing off-key, and generally being loud and obnoxious. His companions started trying to roust him into going home, but he wasn’t having any of it. Finally, he let them pull him upright and try to steer him toward the door.

  “Yes, let’s get out of here,” he practically shouted. “I’m getting sick of breathing the same air as that Midgardian mongrel.”

  Pulling away from his friends, he stumbled toward us, looming over me. “We would have held the field, but for the halflings, who broke and ran. My brother died covering your retreat.”