Page 42 of The Tree of Spirits
And with that dramatic line delivered, Raytan walked out of the room, leaving me with four smirking Metamorphs.
“Hey,” I said, backing up. “He told younotto eat me.”
“Hardly worth the effort anyway,” one Metamorph commented, looking me up and down.
The guy sitting next to him nodded. “She’s way too small and scrawny.”
“Don’t listen to them. They just get a kick out of scaring people,” the third Metamorph told me. “What did you want to ask us?”
“Raytan thinks the Elves are behind the theft of his trucks,” I said. “And the explosion that wounded all of you.”
“Because they totally are!”
“We’re at war!”
It turned out these Metamorphs weren’t just being melodramatic. Their clan and one of the Elven clans were literally on opposing sides of an inter-realm war. Apparently, not everything in the Many Realms was so shiny and perfect, despite what Prince Fenris would have people believe.
“The Elves obviously stole our trucks to bait us,” said one of the Metamorphs. “And then they tried to kill us.”
“Na, the Elves here on Gaia are too soft. They’re not warriors,” said another. “You could see that from the explosion. The timing. The way it went off, too far away to do us any lastingharm. They weren’t trying to kill us. They just wanted to sideline us for a few weeks.”
“Because?” I asked.
“Because the Elves want to rob our clan of the best fighters in the Many Realms, of course! They must have discovered that the four of us are all shipping off to the war next week. Or at least wewereshipping off.” The Metamorph scowled. “Stupid Elves, ruining everything. We were sooo going to kick some Elf ass. And now we have to wait until the next rotation. And with our luck, the war will be over by then!”
One could only hope.
“You’re a fool.”
Everyone looked at the Metamorph who had his arm in a sling. This was the first time he’d spoken since I’d set foot in the room.
“The Elves wouldn’t go through all this effort to wound four random nobodies just so we can’t join the war. That’s plain nonsense,” he said. “We aren’t the best fighters in the Many Realms. And we won’t make any difference in the war. There’s nothing special about us.”
“Speak for yourself, Xael!” shot back one of the others. “I, for one, am very special.”
“You’respecial, all right. A real special kind of idiot if you truly believe any of that nonsense you just spewed,” replied Xael.
The other three Metamorphs scowled at him.
I positioned myself between Xael and his friends before they put his other arm in a sling too. “Ok, so who doyouthink is behind all of this?” I asked him.
“Intelli-move.”
“Intelli-what?”
“Intelli-move,” Xael repeated. “They’re a hauling business, just like us. In fact, they are our number one competitor.” He looked at the other wounded Metamorphs. “This isn’t aboutpolitics, boys. It’s about profits. And our business has put a big dent in theirs.”
CHAPTER 6
INTELLI-MOVE
Istared at the engraved panel of smooth wood that hung in the shop window, which read:Intelli-move: The intelligent way to move!
Ok, maybe the sign was classy, but the tagline was really cheesy.
The waiting room was classy too, a perfect blend of gorgeous hardwood floors and peaceful pastoral paintings on the walls. And the furniture didn’t look like it had spent ten years lying in some abandoned corner of the Wilderness before the Scavengers had found it and hauled it back to town. The cream-white sofa was spotless and the plump seat cushions comfortable—way more comfortable than my bed.
Like Raytan’s Removals, Intelli-move was a family business. And its leading lady was Isidora, a pretty Elf with a smart bun and a long, swanlike neck.
