A Life Less Ordinary (33 page)

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Authors: Christopher Nuttall

Tags: #FM Fantasy, #FIC009010 FICTION / Fantasy / Contemporary, #FIC009050 FICTION / Fantasy / Paranormal, #FIC002000 FICTION / Action & Adventure

BOOK: A Life Less Ordinary
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I plunged down a corridor and ran, knowing that he would be coming after me. I had to look like I was panicking – I was, a little – and I knew that he would enjoy it. The universe shifted around me again and I discovered that I was running right towards him. I almost fell over as I tried to slow down, only to find myself shrinking and flying through the air towards his mouth. I pulled magic out of my reserves and threw it at him. It didn’t hurt him – most human magic couldn’t hurt Elves – but it sent him tumbling backwards. I fell out of the air, suddenly restored to human form, and landed hard on my front. The impact knocked the wind out of me. Before I could recover, strong inhuman hands had rolled me over and I felt someone landing on top of me.

The Nameless Elf leered down at me. “I win,” he said, and giggled. He placed one hand on my chest and I felt his magic interacting with mine. “Your magic is mine and then...oh, there are
so
many things we could do together. We’re going to have so much fun.”

I shivered helplessly as I felt my magic begin to flow out of me. The Nameless Elf looked as if he was devouring it somehow, perhaps enjoying the flavour. He held me down effortlessly – physically, he was far stronger than any human – and just kept draining my magic. I braced myself. This wasn’t going to be pretty and it could go horrendously wrong. I’d never get a second chance either. He might kill me outright or simply transfigure me and leave me as an object forever.

There was a brilliant flash of blue light and the Nameless Elf began screaming in pain.

It had worked!

 

Chapter Twenty-Nine

The trick had been simple and, to be honest, I’d never expected to get away with it. There was only one thing that could harm the elves – and only outside their dimension – and that was Cold Iron. I’d considered bringing an iron sword from the market, but that would have been detected and the Nameless Elf would probably have killed me out of hand – or forced me into a position where I had to kill him, if he was truly as suicidal as Dervish and Cardonel had insisted. I’d had to smuggle it in somehow.

On the face of it, transfiguration could be used to produce all kinds of elements – gold, for example – that could be sold in the mundane world. In practice, the transfiguration spells simply didn’t last very long and when they expired, the gold returned to its original state. I’d taken iron dust and woven it into my clothing, before transfiguring it into something harmless. As long as I had my magic, it would
remain
harmless, but when the Nameless Elf had started to drain my power, he’d suddenly found himself surrounded by Cold Iron. The results had not been pretty.

I pulled myself to my feet and walked over to him. He was lying on the ground, twitching as if he were being assailed by a thousand invisible bugs. Elfish magic simply didn’t affect Cold Iron at all, which meant that if he tried to escape – perhaps by turning immaterial or resuming his magical form – the Cold Iron would enter his body and poison him. Death would be prolonged and agonising. His only hope was for someone – me, perhaps – to remove the iron before the poisoning advanced too far and his form came apart. The Nameless Elf, simply because he lacked a name, might be
more
vulnerable to such an attack than the average elf.

He no longer looked even remotely human. His fine clothing had vanished, leaving an oddly-shaped body that reminded me of Cardonel, one that seemed to be constantly on the verge of shifting into another form. I recoiled slightly as I caught a glimpse of the invisible other form, threatening to break loose and consume him. I wished, not for the first time, that I knew more about where the elves actually came from. Generations of human researchers had speculated wildly – from a prototype for the human race to the last survivors of a dying world – but the elves refused to answer any questions about themselves. They tended to do horrific things to anyone foolish enough to ask, so very few people dared.

“All right,” I said, carefully summoning my magic. Cold Iron didn’t just harm, poison and eventually kill the elves; it also neutralised their magic, at least as long as the iron was touching their skin. I reached down and opened his mouth, flinching at the feel of touching something alien. The teeth that stared up at me, locked in an expression of agony, reminded me of a shark. I wasn’t going to reach inside his maw with my bare hands. “Let’s talk, shall we?”

The Nameless Elf seemed to struggle to speak. “What...” He broke off, coughed, and tried again. “What have you done?”

I ignored the question. “You sound remarkably coherent now,” I observed. It was true. The pain seemed to be helping his mind to focus. “You’re not quite the madman you appear, are you?”

“I find that pain is a wonderful motivator,” the Nameless Elf gasped. I understood. His magic had been spinning out of control, burning through him, ever since he’d been stripped of his name. Now, in a rather amusing paradox, the Cold Iron was helping him to think clearly for the first time in years. “Take the remainder of the iron away from me and I will give you the world. I will make you the ruler of this world and set you on a throne above those of all the nations. I will grant you power and riches that will allow you to do whatever you want to do. I will make you a goddess.”

“I don’t want to be a goddess,” I said. It was true. I’d read up on the few gods and goddesses that still interacted with the human race and most of them were shaped by humanity in one way or another. Circe, the demigoddess I’d met, was bound to her role by human will. She might very well have no free will of her own. “I want you to answer my questions.” I hesitated. “I also want you to free your captives.”

The Nameless Elf turned to look into my eyes. “Do you know what the elves will do to you for what you have done today?”

I shrugged. “If they cared about you,” I said, “why did they throw you out in the first place.”

He managed to sneer. “You could not possibly understand,” he said. He gasped in pain and I realised that some of the Cold Iron was pushing through his skin and into his body. “You’re only human...how are you
doing
this to me?”

“I’m a genius,” I said. I wasn’t going to tell him what I’d done. If he didn’t figure it out for himself, I might want to use the method again. “Try me.”

The Nameless Elf snorted. “Could you explain democracy to a potted plant? Could you convince a bacterium to consider communism as a viable way of life? Could you define the existence and nature of the August Personage” – God, to the elves and other magical creatures – “to spiders and ants? There are concepts that your woefully imprecise language has no counterparts for, because you’re not clever enough to invent them.”

I smiled, although I never took my eyes off him. “Very well,” I said. I wasn’t going to risk allowing him to dictate terms to me. “You’re going to answer my questions and then release your captives. If you refuse, or I think you’re lying to me, I’m going to hurt you. If it gets pushed too far, you are going to die. Maybe your Queen will demand that I am punished, maybe she won’t...but you will still be dead.”

A thought occurred to me and I shivered. “I understand that your people have no souls,” I added. “If you die, you die permanently and no trace of you will remain. Do you want to risk it?”

The Nameless Elf stared up at me, testing the bonds. “Very well,” he growled. “Do I have your word that you will release me?”

I considered my words carefully. “Once you have answered all of my questions and released your captives, I will walk out of your...house and release you,” I said. I wasn’t stupid enough to release him while I was still in range. Truthfully, I had no idea how I was going to handle that, but I’d make it up when the time came. “Are those terms acceptable to you?”

There was a long pause. “Yes,” the Nameless Elf growled, finally. “And I will not seek to harm you or anyone else while you are in my house.”

I took that with a pinch of salt – after all, he could lie as much as he wanted – and refused to release him from the Cold Iron. He glared at me until he realised that I was not going to budge on that issue and then leaned backwards, trying to find a position that would allow him some comfort. It was not a pleasant sight. His form kept shifting, as if he had to devote more and more energy to remaining human – or at least humanoid. I had the eerie sense that if his physical form collapsed completely, the Cold Iron would pull him down and destroy him.

“Good,” I said. “Are you holding my master captive?”

“No,” the Nameless Elf said.

I stared at him. I’d been so convinced that Master Revels was his captive, even though I hadn’t seen him among the other prisoners. I wondered if he was lying, yet I couldn’t sense any attempt at deceit. It suggested that he was telling the truth, unless he was somehow hiding his feelings despite the Cold Iron. No one really understood how powerful and capable the elves truly were, yet...I could hurt him – torture him – or accept the answer.

“I will rephrase,” I said, carefully. The elf might well find a way to twist my words. “Are you holding Master Revels captive?”

“No,” the Nameless Elf repeated. I’d wondered if he might count someone else as my master, as unlikely as that seemed, but that was now proven false. “What is your next question?”

I gathered myself. “How many people are you holding captive within your home?”

“Two thousand, seven hundred and nine,” the Nameless Elf said. He leered at me, a touch of the old arrogance returning to his voice. “And all of them are improved on the original. I reached into their weak mortal bodies and rebuilt them at will.”

I stared at him, sickened. “Why?”

The Nameless Elf smiled. “Why not?”

Back in school, I hadn’t studied much history, but one area we had been allowed to study was the Nazi Holocaust, how the Third Reich had attempted to exterminate the Jews. Their doctors, unhampered by concerns about morality and human rights, had performed gruesome experiments on Jewish captives, for all kinds of reasons. They’d been the worst kind of humans, utterly unconcerned about other humans, yet...they’d had a motive, no matter how awful, for doing what they’d done. The Nameless Elf had done it because it was fun for him, if not for his victims. Drinking in their fear and shame had probably been part of the fun.

I fought to control my temper and the desire to just push the iron into him and watch him die. “Can they all be returned to normal?”

“They would not
want
to return to normal,” the Nameless Elf said. “They are vastly improved human beings.”

He seemed to be telling the truth, but then, the most effective way to lie was to tell what one thought was the truth. The Nameless Elf might sincerely believe that his victims were better off after he’d worked his will on them. I pushed that thought aside and scowled.

“Tell me,” I said. “Are you involved with the kidnapped or destroyed ghosts?”

The Nameless Elf shook his head. “No,” he said. “What could pathetic shadows of weak humanity have to teach me?”

I wondered if that were true. The elves might have been immortal, but they paid for it by being soulless, with no guarantee that they would be able to live on after death. I could see the elves being desperate to learn what made some humans ghosts, just so they could use it for themselves and perhaps survive on after their deaths. Or perhaps not; they certainly didn’t seem to think about the concept of dying very much, if at all.

It wasn’t my problem anyway. “Right,” I said, grimly. I bounced a few other questions off him, but they were all unimportant. “Do you happen to know anything useful at all?”

The Nameless Elf snickered at my frustration. “I know that sometimes what is hiding in plain sight can be the hardest thing to see,” he said. I realised that he was deliberately trying to annoy me. He’d decided that he didn’t know anything about what I was interested in and so he could bait me at will. “You really should question your assumptions.”

I stared at him. “Do you know who summoned the fire demon that destroyed the Rationalist Building?”

“A fire demon is easy to summon if you have the right tools,” the Nameless Elf said. That didn’t quite answer my question. “I have no idea who might have summoned it. Anyone can summon a demon with the right preparations and then lose control.”

“I already know that,” I growled. I shook my head. I’d risked my life and freedom...for nothing. The people who’d told me not to confront the Nameless Elf had been right, damn them. “How do I release your captives?”

The Nameless Elf refused to tell me at first, claiming that he had to release them personally, which meant that I would have to release him from the Cold Iron. I refused, naturally; he’d be able to kill me before I could react, even if it meant risking his own death. It took several minutes and threats of outright torture for him to tell me how to start releasing them myself, a task that meant giving me some control over the house. Even touching the magical field his gaolers had created gave me a headache. One by one, the captives were freed. A handful dropped dead the moment they were released from their bindings, while the others simply ran for it. I saw the two – I couldn’t imagine what someone called a person who was half male and half female – running for their lives, along with many others. They didn’t realise that the Nameless Elf was helpless.

I wondered, briefly, how the magical world would cope with the sudden influx of refugees. The Nameless Elf had been trapped for hundreds of years. He’d had plenty of time to lure them into his domain and then toy with them, before freezing them in time and suspending them from his wall. The human captives would be stepping back into a world that had moved on in their absence. I hoped that the Thirteen would take care of them, or perhaps they would have friends and family who had remained in the magical world.

“There have always been those who have come to me,” the Nameless Elf said, as the last of the captives made his escape. He didn’t seem too downhearted by the defeat, if defeat it was. It occurred to me that he was too happy for someone who had just lost some of his possessions. “The ones you freed will remain touched by my work, bearing testament to my handiwork. There will be others who will come into my domain and offer themselves to me, or offer others to me in exchange for favours or knowledge.”

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