“A warning would have been nice,” I grumbled, letting go and backing up.
“It is a great honor for a lesser being to fly with a dragon. It is typical for them to be grateful and effusive afterward.”
I caught myself before I could make another comment about ass-kissing—he would probably think I was obsessed with his butt—and limited myself to saying, “I’m atypical.”
“Yes.”
Grumbling further, I straightened my duster, checked to make sure Fezzik was still secured in my thigh holster, and touched Chopper’s hilt to reassure myself of the weapon’s presence on my back. The orcs were trading whispers. So were the dwarves. A dragon had landed in their midst, and everyone was glaring at me. How was this fair?
Zav strode off without acknowledging anybody, heading toward the alcove at the back of the valley where I’d spoken to Greemaw before. Not trusting a dragon’s presence to keep me safe, I gripped the cat figurine and summoned Sindari.
Only after he materialized did I walk in the direction Zav had gone, my hand resting on Fezzik’s grip. I didn’t want to pick a fight here, but I would defend myself.
We’ve returned to the sanctuary valley, Sindari observed, striding at my side. To do battle?
I hope not. I replied silently since there were so many ears and eyes pointed this way.
Lord Zavryd is here.
Yeah, we came together. We made a deal this morning. I’m helping him with his problem, and afterward, he’s agreed to help me with mine.
Sindari gazed up at me with his green eyes, as if he wasn’t quite sure I was his regular handler. Maybe he thought a lookalike had replaced me. How long has it been since you last summoned me?
We fought the panther shifters and visited Zoltan yesterday. It seemed like it had been much longer ago than that. This weekend had been eventful. If I’d had the opportunity, I would have summoned you to help me with some angry orcs a couple of hours ago, but there wasn’t time.
How long does it take you to touch my charm and call my name?
More time than I had. Keep an eye on those orcs, will you? And everyone with a weapon who’s glaring at me.
So everyone except for those three small children over there. Sindari’s gaze shifted toward a trio of green-skinned goblins with white hair.
One of them has a slingshot.
Ah, yes. So only the toddlers fighting over that orange foam tube are safe.
It’s a pool noodle, and yes. The last time I’d been here, I’d seen a few pool toys and an inner tube in a pond in the tunnel leading in. They weren’t the only things here that looked to have been salvaged after floating away from their owners on the Deschutes River.
Imagine my embarrassment at not knowing the correct terminology.
Do tigers actually get embarrassed?
I do if I fail to perform adequately or fall and don’t land on my feet.
We followed a bend in the only real road through the valley, leaving the last of the dwellings and market stalls lining it, and Greemaw’s alcove came into view. The moss-haired, gray-skinned lava golem sat on her conference-table-sized bench and towered over Zav, who stood in front of her, already speaking. He seemed almost puny next to her mass, but I sensed their auras, the potential for power that each carried, and it was easy to tell that Zav was far stronger than anyone here.
That was why these detours were worth it; he could probably walk into the Pardus brothers’ house, tell them to knock it off, and they would. Whereas I’d have trouble achieving that without starting a war. That made me bitter, but if Zav was willing to help, I would bury my resentment. Whatever it took to keep Nin safe was what I would do.
An elf approaches, Sindari informed me.
I turned, hand tightening on Fezzik’s grip as I followed his gaze. Sindari’s tone hadn’t warned me if he was only making an observation or if the elf represented trouble.
The tall, lean, and powerful elf glided across the packed earth toward me, a bow and quiver on his back and a short sword belted at his waist. If he were human, he would have been roughly forty, but purebred elves reputedly lived centuries, so maybe he’d been alive during the Crusades. A torc of gilded woven twigs wreathed his neck and emanated power, but the rest of his brown and beige clothing was ripped and stained, as if he’d been on the road for a long time. I remembered seeing an elf when I’d been here with my mother weeks earlier, but I hadn’t gotten a good look at his face and wasn’t sure if this was the same person.
He lifted a hand to stop me.
I glanced at Zav and Greemaw to make sure they weren’t looking back expectantly and waiting for me. Neither of them was looking in my direction at all.
“Glad I made the trip,” I muttered.
The elf stopped a few feet away and bowed to me.
I had zero bowing experience so I lifted a hand and said, “What’s up, Legolas?”
He straightened and regarded me curiously.
“I guess you haven’t been on Earth long enough to get signed up for Netflix,” I said.
“I have recently arrived on this world. I chose to help some refugees escape the wrath of the Silverclaw Clan, and now, I am waiting and hoping to chance across someone who can create a portal so that I may return.” His gaze shifted toward Zav, then back to me. He touched his chest. “I am Syran Moonleaf.”
“That sounds about right.” I held back a quip about the probability that an internet fantasy-name generator would spit that out within the first five tries. He wasn’t holding any weapons or glaring at me like he wanted to drive a sword through my gut. I could be polite. “I’m Val Thorvald.”
“Thorvald… That is your mother’s name?”
“Good guess.” With the certainty of a fist connecting with my nose, I realized this guy knew who my father was. He hadn’t said that, and I couldn’t imagine how he would know—especially if he’d just come to Earth and hadn’t heard anything about my reputation—but that question… What else could it mean?
Moonleaf was studying me with more than his eyes, I sensed, as a hint of magic brushed my awareness.
All the curiosity I thought I’d long ago given up bubbled to the surface, and I wanted to know everything he knew about my father. “It’s Norse. It means Thor’s ruler. My first name is even better. Valmeyjar. It means Battle Maiden or Corpse Maiden. My mom named me that and then was surprised when I became an assassin for the army. Weird, huh? Did you know my father?”
Moonleaf blinked. The color of his silver-green eyes reminded me of the lavender leaves on the plants potted at the front doors of my apartment building.
“I traveled with him once long ago when we were diplomats and explorers, serving the three kings.” Moonleaf smiled wistfully. “That was before our fates veered onto different paths.”
“Is he still alive? What’s his name?” I knew the name my mother had given me and figured it would mean something if this elf gave me the same one. If not, Moonleaf could have mistaken me for someone else. How could he tell from looking at me who my father was?
“Oh, he is most certainly still alive. I would tell you to visit him, but I fear there are few here who know how to make portals to the Cosmic Realms. I was warned about that ahead of time, but I didn’t quite realize how barren of magic this world would be.”
And here I’d been thinking about how many more magical beings were in it lately.
“I am debating what I could offer a dragon to send me home.” Moonleaf looked at Zav again. “But one does not presume to ask favors of dragons.”
“No. I assume you’re probably in trouble if you owe a dragon a favor too.”
“It depends on the dragon. The Stormforge family has always been fair.” Moonleaf waved at Zav, his fingers long and elegant, exactly what one would expect from an elf. “It is unfortunate that their hold over the Dragon Justice Court is not what it once was and that so many crueler and more insular dragons are working against them to steal their positions. That is why so many refugees have been forced to flee to this world. It is—it was—a place that nobody believed dragons would come.”
“Not anymore.”
“So I’ve heard,” Moonleaf said grimly.
“Val,” Zav called, power in his voice as he looked over—as he summoned me.
It was the first time I remembered him using my name, and I had the urge to trot over obediently. Which I refused to do. I planted my feet in stubborn rebellion, held a finger up to him, and finished my conversation with Moonleaf. “Would a half-human be welcome in… the place where my father lives, if she were to show up?”
Not that I had plans to leave Earth any time soon, even if it somehow became a possibility. It wasn’t as if I could hunt down a portal charm. At least, I assumed not. But I was curious and wanted to know.
“Few humans have ever been taken from this—pardon me, but this is how the rest of the sentient species feel about it—savage world and into the Cosmic Realms, so I could not say for certain.” Moonleaf glanced at Zav, lifting a hand in a fingers-down gesture that seemed like an apology. He was speaking quickly. “But humans as a whole have not traditionally treated the other races well when they’ve visited this world.”
“So there may be grudges.”
“Yes.”
“And such a trip would be dangerous.”
“Probably so, but if you ever get the chance…” His blond brows rose as some new thought occurred to him. “Does he know you exist? Your father?”
“I don’t know.” My mother had told me that he and his kind had left before she’d known she was pregnant with me. She’d never allowed me to voice anything negative about him—using the phrase deadbeat dad when I’d been about ten had gotten me slapped, the only time I could remember her hitting me. She had never agreed with me that it had been an asshole thing to choose to leave Earth with his people instead of staying with the woman he had supposedly loved. “Probably not,” I added.
“Ah. That is interesting.” Moonleaf sent Zav another nervous glance—Zav had his arms folded over his chest, that haughty expression tinged with impatience. “I must not keep you from your meeting. I’m pleased to have made your acquaintance.”