Iron Elves Onmibus by Chris Evans

Author:Chris Evans
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Fantasy, Epic, General, War & Military, Fiction
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Alwyn shifted on the pillows serving as his seat, but couldn’t get comfortable. His stomach rumbled. He had tried a bit of everything, including the roast lamb, but food had little appeal to him. It was as if his normal senses were no longer connected to his body. He scanned the room again. Any one of the patrons in the Blue Scorpion could be a spy for the Shadow Monarch, or even an assassin. He fidgeted some more and pulled his musket a little closer.

The sloshing of liquid made him turn. A waiter had quietly refilled his cup without Alwyn’s even hearing him approach. He vowed not to be surprised like that again even as he raised the cup to his lips and downed the liquid in one gulp. The rumbling in his stomach subsided and a warm wave moved through his muscles. He reached forward and grabbed one of the smoking tubes from the hookah and brought it to his lips, taking a long, slow puff. Water gurgled in the apparatus with a satisfying rumble. The smoke was cool and smooth in his throat, and when he blew it out several seconds later, he had stopped fidgeting.

“My leg doesn’t hurt,” he said to no one in particular. He patted the wood where his knee would be and said it again. “Can’t flee…feel, a thing.” The room was gently spinning. It was a strange effect. He wondered how they did it.

“Course you can’t feel it, it ain’t there,” Teeter said, ignoring the shared smoking device and drawing on his pipe. He pursed his lips and then blew a smoke ring across the room. An elderly man smoking a hookah had accepted the challenge and was blowing smoke rings back. Each time one got his ring to intersect the other’s, a few men clapped.

“S’not what I mean,” Alwyn said. “There’s no pain where they meet. It’s like the smoke just smoothes out the differences between the magics, you know?” He tried to show Teeter by moving his hands in the air, but his fingers just wiggled and soon he was transfixed by their movement.

“It ain’t regular tobacco, see,” Zwitty said, talking around a smoking tube in his mouth. Smoke curled up from his nostrils to wreathe his head in swirling gray, but what really gave him an eerie quality was the smile on his face. It looked real. “There’s a place in Celwyn where you can get this, but it ain’t cheap. Never knew where it came from. Might just have to see about taking some back when we ship out of here.”

This drew a loud laugh from Hrem and a snort from Yimt. Both raised themselves from the progressively reclined positions they had assumed as the evening went on. Zwitty’s smile disappeared, to be replaced with his more usual sneer.

“You’re a businessman now, are you?” Yimt asked. “Between the souvenirs you’ve been collecting on our island hops and now this, you’ll be able to buy a dukedom in what, another

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