Page 9 of Revenge of the Elf Lord

“I know that place…” Cyran muttered and turned to Lamruil. “Why do I know this place?” He pivoted and walked around the room, his thoughts going back through time as he shuffled through memory after memory. A face appeared, leaning over him. It was a stern face. A familiar face. His father screamed at him for embarrassing him in front of the king.

“We were standing in a tunnel...” He searched his memory, trying to remember events from his childhood—events he never wanted to remember.

“What tunnel?” Lamruil asked.

Cyran scrubbed his face. “It was so long ago—when I was maybe ten or eleven. I was with Haman. He was furious with me.”

Lamruil scoffed. “He was always furious with you.”

Cyran waved his hand in the air, dismissing his friend’s words. “Yes, yes. This time, though, he was angrier than I’ve ever seen him. Livid. He accused me of embarrassing him in front of the king.” He faced Lamruil and Idunn. “What king?”

“I am not the most educated person, but isn’t it obvious?” Idunn's gaze moved from him to Lamruil and back, shaking her head in disgust. “Seriously? You call yourselves leaders? Aren’t leaders trained in observation and strategy?” The two males glanced at each other, their expressions blank, as they returned her stare. She threw her arms up in disgust. “While I may be wrong, it seems this has to be the mountain palace of the dwarf king.”

Lamruil’s brows rose. “The dwarves have a king? Since when—and doesn’t that make it treason since they are under the Elven family? My brother and I should be their kings.”

Idunn’s pink lips thinned as she flared her nostrils. “You know my stance on slavery, Lamruil. Even though they are genetically elves and your cousins, the dwarves took their futures into their own hands after the war and created their own realm instead of remaining in a place where they weren’t welcome. Why would they want to swear allegiance to the very people who enslaved them?”

She shook her head in obvious frustration. “Your father was a fair man until the dwarves were mentioned, and then he became a closed-off ass. Nothing Freyja said made a difference in getting him to see reason and release them from servitude. Free them and let them work like regular people, making good wages and affording their own homes. Let themlive, Lamruil. As you and your brother do—as all other elves do. Slavery is wrong. No one should own another person.”

“Ailuin and I don’t like it any more than you or Freyja. We have discussed how to free them without creating a vacuum in the workforce, thereby causing the ultimate failure of our world before it even begins. I know my father was torn about the same thing, no matter what you say. Yes, he could be an ass, but there were outside influences. When he was with certain people, it was as if he had a change of heart and hated the dwarves. Later, when he was with my brother and me, he would say he wished he could free them.”

Lamruil shook his head. “The conundrum is that there is no food if no one is working in the gardens or kitchens. If no one is constructing buildings or repairing the infrastructure, we will not have functioning homes, and the list goes on. There are too few Elfkind remaining to fill all those jobs.”

Idunn stared at the map, deep in thought. After a few more minutes of silence, her gaze rose to meet his. “While I don’t profess to know a lot regarding the intricacies of bureaucracy, why not do what your forefathers did? You can give everyone a day of rest and call a town meeting where you can propose a solid plan that would allow all elves to decide on the next step. Maybe offer the dwarves their regular jobs but with good pay and benefits, giving them a chance at better lives and prosperity. Let them know you want to rectify the wrongs from the past and create unity among all elves—including them. Racism and bullying will not be tolerated, and those who act out will be punished.”

“That is brilliant, Idunn.” Lamruil smiled. “More importantly, it just might work as well.” Turning, his blue gaze met Cyran’s. “What do you think?”

He shrugged. “It’s not up to me. I’m just a lowly interim healer while you’re the co-regent. You should be asking your brother.”

Lamruil scowled. “Do you always have to be a pain?”

Cyran nodded with a smug smile. “It’s what I’m best at.”

“Just answer the question.”

“You already know my answer. I never agreed with the slavery law against the dwarves, and knowing Haman was leading the charge makes me ill. It wouldn’t surprise me if he were the reason your father waffled back and forth. I will do whatever you need to stop slavery and reunite our people. I just hope our people want to be reunited. Dwarves, like their Elven cousins, can have a nasty temper and long memories. They aren’t going to easily forgive either, I’m afraid.”

“No,” Idunn agreed. “They won’t, but you must try. They deserve so much better than what they have been given. I know many who are wonderful beings with loving families and adorable children, and they all dream of a better future. Please don’t give up on them before you even try, Lamruil. These people wereDökkálfar,dark elves, andSvartálfar,black elves,before they were dwarves.”

“You speak Elven with a beautiful lilt, and I won’t give up on them, nor will I be able to forget them or what they’ve been through.” Lamruil scrubbed his face, then dropped his hands to his sides, looking wan and tired. “Ailiun and I have been talking about our next move. I will tell him what you said. Itisa good plan.”

Idunn’s cheeks flushed a becoming shade of pink as she bit back a sweet smile. “Thank you. I believe that’s the first time anyone has liked one of my ideas. I guess most people think I’m not interested in anything but gardening and baking, but I keep my eyes and ears open to things happening in the other worlds around us. Now, what are we going to do about Shalendra and Soliana? They must be found before Hel blasts Svartálfheimr out of existence.”

“That would be terrible and counterproductive to what we’re trying to do. They mine some of the best gemstones in the multiverse. To lose those would be a travesty. Many professions, both magical and nonmagical, use them,” Cyran pulled one of the chairs closer to the table and sat, his gaze glued to the picture of the mountain.

“Cyran, I need you to go to Svartálfheimr and find the two women before Hel and Émilien start a war to get their daughter back. Once you have found them, return here, and I will contact Shalendra’s parents.”

“You make it sound like I can just saunter in, locate them, and leave without problems. It won’t be that easy. The dwarves will want to know why I’m there.”

Lamruil stared at the bookcase, a slow smile spreading over his face. “Tell them you wish to restart the liaison between Alfheimr and Svartálfheimr. In the past, a healer for all elves traveled between realms and offered his services to those in need. Tell them the co-regents sent you as a gift to the dwarves of Svartálfheimr.”

Cyran rolled his eyes. “Great, I’ve been relegated to being a pawn in your political games. You know I cheat.”

Lamruil’s grin widened. “Yes, I do, and that is why you are the perfect person for this job. Find the girls, but also investigate what the dwarf king is up to. While I had no idea there was an actual king, we have received a few reports about strange happenings going on in a few of the villages. Tales of ghostly beings have been reported, people are getting sick, and Shalendra and Soliana are not the only ones who have disappeared in the last few months.”

“Fine. Find the women, spy on the king, and debunk a ghost. Sounds like my kind of mission,” Cyran joked. His gaze dropped back to the mountain as the image of the darkened tunnel reappeared in his mind’s eye. A chill settled over him as something nagged at the back of his mind. He couldn't be sure whether it was a memory or a foreboding, but for some reason, he was reluctant to go there.

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