Dash laughed at Marthen’s way of telling him she was none of his business. Fine, he’d respect the wizard’s privacy.
And as he started to change the subject, the woods around them lit up as if they were on fire. Yet they weren’t burning. Only fey light shined brightly like this. And usually only when an elfin army was on the march.
Dash immediately turned into his unicorn form and suited up in full battle armor, ready to fight whatever was coming for him.
Marthen cursed.
Obviously, the elves had learned he was here. The question was, which clan? The Drakalf, Myrkalf, or Nagalf?
Drakalfs were the most barbaric of the three. Cannibal elves, they had once hunted their brethren for food, believing that if they consumed their enemies, they would inherit their powers and wisdom. As a rule, they tended to be a bit shorter and much leaner than the Myrkalfs or Nagalfs.
Even though they had stopped preying on other elves as their primary food source, their brethren still didn’t trust them. And Dash couldn’t blame them for it. He wouldn’t want to sit down at dinner with someone who might be serving him up elf stew, either.
Rumors still abounded that some of them continued the rituals of their ancestors. He knew from experience that old habits were a little hard to break.
The Myrkalfs were farmers and tricksters. They were the ones who liked to make deals with humans and other species that usually backfired on the ones dumb enough to barter with them. They also traded out their errant children with well-behaving youngsters of other species so that they could use them for farm work or experiment on them.
They were never to be trusted.
Nagalfs were the aristocrats who ruled over all the clans. Warriors, nobles, diplomats and priests, they were sadly the ones he’d pissed off the most in the past.
He really hoped the Nagalfs weren’t the ones approaching as they were less likely to be friendly with his intrusion into their territory. Indeed, they’d happily hand him over to Meara and were probably one of the seven kingdoms willing to pay the bounty for his head.
As the small army came closer and he was able to identify them, he cursed.
They had representatives from all three groups. Each one wore the distinct armor and styles that designated their individual clans.
Beautiful. They meant business and he was sure that they were out to skin a unicorn.
He glanced to Marthen. “You awake yet?”
“Thinking I should sleep this one out.”
Fine time for the wizard to turn craven. “Thanks.”
“Any time, my king.”
Dressed in green armor that glimmered in the dawning sun, the king of the Nagalfs approached Marthen with a look of censure. “He’s not your king, Marthen. I am.”
“Not true, Lord Baldur. He’severyone’sking.”
The sneer on Baldur’s handsome face let Dash know he didn’t appreciate the reminder or being referred to as a mere lord. Though Baldur wasn’t as tall as Dash was in human form, he was still no slacker in height.
His paleblond hair that he wore braided down his back made him appear almost ghostly. But not nearly as much as those sharp, angular features. Baldur glanced around at the others, then gave Dash a dry, meaningful stare.“I see you’re not bearing any gifts for me this time. Guess I should count my blessings you didn’t swing by the sacred grove on your way in.”
Dash was really grateful he’d switched forms. Otherwise, he’d be hard-pressed to counsel his facial expression. Or keep from smiling snidely. “Should I conjure an olive branch?” He sprouted one from his horn.
Unamused, Baldur blinked slowly.
Marthen, on the other hand, laughed out loud.
“Oh, lighten up, Baldur, that’s funny.” Hinrik, the leader of the Myrkalfs, slapped Baldur on the back, then stepped around him to approach Dash. His armor was brown, like his hair and darker features. A few inches shorter than Baldur, Hinrik was known for being a tad light-hearted for most things.
The Drakalf leader, Tova, ignored Baldur and followed Hinrik as he approached Dash. She carried her engraved bronzeaxe over her shoulder which made Dash a bit nervous, especially given the way she eyed him.
Until she stopped in front of him and smiled brightly.
Her brown hair was worn in intricate braids to show off her ornate, pointed ear covers. She’d laced her red leather armor tight to accentuate her curves and was famous for the spiked heels of her boots that she was known for driving into the eyes of her enemies before she killed them.
