Legacy of Magic: Books 1-3 by Buroker Lindsay

Author:Buroker, Lindsay
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Lindsay Buroker
Published: 2023-11-03T00:00:00+00:00

17

I made it through most of my dinner, though the dubious—and intensely fibrous—elven vegetables ended up in the trash bin, before the noise from the bedroom grew too much to bear. Either the walls and doors of elven homes weren’t that insulated, or the females were extremely enthused. I wouldn’t put it past Slehvyra to make more noise than necessary to irritate me. Though given how many women sought out Sarrlevi, maybe he was simply that amazing.

I snorted with skepticism, especially since he hadn’t appeared interested in having sex with them. Maybe that had been an act, but it was hard to imagine him feigning irritation with them for my sake.

“Should have asked him to make a portal and send me home,” I muttered, taking a sip of the wine. It was good but not nearly sufficient to dull my senses—my hearing.

If my grandfather came in the morning, being here and enduring this would be worth it, but if the elves had been lying to Sarrlevi and hadn’t arranged a meeting…

“Yes, my magnificent warrior!” came a cry through the walls.

Groaning, I turned off the translation charm—I should have done that earlier—and grabbed my hammer and headed for the front door.

Sarrlevi’s words about how dangerous this world was came to mind, but I would rather fight for my life than listen to more of the bedroom antics. Besides, hadn’t he said his house was protected by wards and various defenses? Maybe they extended a ways around the property, and I would be safe sitting under a tree somewhere.

Outside, soft lights glowed green, highlighting the covered front porch and a walkway. It wound away between trees and alien bushes with trumpet-shaped flower heads, blue and purple berries, and something akin to fat blue pine cones. Fronds were more common than leaves, and the night air was warm and fragrant with unfamiliar scents.

Creatures squawked, hooted, and howled in the distance, their cries far less obnoxious than those of the elves.

As I headed down the lit path, I hoped for a bench or chair I could sit on until they were done, though I might have to go a ways to be out of earshot. As I recalled, Sarrlevi’s windows didn’t have glass. Too bad. His bedroom, at least, needed triple-pane insulation.

Rustling came from the undergrowth to the sides of the path. It sounded like nothing worse than small creatures scurrying about, but I walked with both hands on my hammer.

At an intersection, one path led farther away from the house, toward a flat, rocky plateau outlined against the stars. It looked like a landing pad for dragons. Or maybe the open area was where visitors formed portals when they arrived. The protections around Sarrlevi’s home presumably kept strangers from popping up in his bedroom.

I opted for the other path, one that curved around to hug the forested ground nearer the house. Lights continued in that direction and not the other, a further reason to choose it.

As I rounded a bend, the walkway taking me down a slope and around the house in the direction of the ravine, I slowed down.

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