The Crafter's Darkness: A Dungeon Core Novel (Dungeon Crafting Book 4) by Jonathan Brooks (ebook reader with android os TXT) 📗

just like her own people.  Just because she was taller, faster, and better able to outwardly manipulate her elemental energies (which was, honestly, amateurish in comparison to Elven Elites) in relation to the other races, that didn’t mean they were any less capable of defending themselves.  For instance, she had been frankly awed by the War Machine that Violet and Felbar had managed to create with Sandra’s help, and that was just a taste of the power that enchantments – which her own people didn’t employ – could wield.

The Dwarves were equally powerful in their own right, with their specially crafted armor and weapons that utilized their energy to make them deadlier.  In a straight-up fight between an average Elite Elf and an average Shieldman, she would put even odds on the match; while Dwarven armor appeared to be able to withstand even elemental attacks used against them, if something were to slip through the cracks in their protection, they wouldn’t likely last long.  On the other side, if the Dwarf charged ahead through the various attacks thrown their way, the Elite wouldn’t last long in a battle up-close.  Even those trained in using melee weaponry would have a hard time even hurting a Dwarf protected by their armor.

Orcs…well, Orcs were something else altogether, and they probably wouldn’t last long one-on-one.  The problem with them, or so she’d heard, was that they were rarely ever alone; they worked best in their warbands, which could have dozens or more members involved.  They had numbers on their side, though they had stupendously inferior weaponry and armor.  Their height, size, appearance, and sheer ferocity were enough to intimidate most opponents; she would imagine, though dungeon monsters didn’t really care about things like that.

Echo was glad that Kelerim didn’t really share any of those traits.  In her opinion, he had gained the best of both his parentages, at least as far as temperament and looks went. He was shorter than an Orc, shorter even than herself, and had a complexion only marred by lines of past hardship and two little bumps near his mouth where Orcish-like tusks would normally appear but never fully emerged.  He was also a bit thin and unkempt-looking…which was probably why she felt herself attracted to him.

Growing up and living with others of her race, sometimes she felt that they all looked the same; long, silky flowing hair in a variety of colors, unblemished faces only occasionally broken up by a scar here-and-there, and lithe, athletic figures that showcased their naturally fit bodies.  There was very little variety, very little uniqueness to any of them; before she had met and started to interact with the other races, that seemed…normal.  Now, though, while Kelerim certainly looked much different from any other Elf, his differences made him appear exotic to her eyes.  It didn’t make much sense – Echo had to honestly admit to herself – but the attraction was real enough on her end.

Kelerim, however, seemed entirely oblivious.  In fact, even as his arms were around her waist holding on tightly as they flew on the back of Starlight 3 on their way to her village of Avensglen, he didn’t seem overly cognizant of the fact that they were so close together.  Instead, he was holding on to her so tightly that it was beginning to hurt.

“Can you loosen your arms a little?” she asked as politely as she could.  “It’s getting hard to breathe with you holding onto me so tightly.”  She tapped his arms around her waist with her free hand, indicating what she meant.  Soon after they left, they had both realized that Sandra had turned her attention elsewhere and wasn’t automatically translating their words anymore; their little jaunt to visit her people was going to be a bit more of a challenge now, but hopefully nothing would come up that would require him to be understood and understand in return.

The tap on his arms seemed to do the trick, as he mumbled something she probably wouldn’t have been able to understand even if she spoke his language and his strangling hold on her loosened significantly.  She never understood some people’s fear of heights, because back in the capital, many of their most important residences were built high up in the treetops of the ancient trees located there.  Just walking over the bridges hundreds of feet above the ground was exhilarating, and she missed them; she hadn’t been back there in at least 2 decades, and she was both looking forward to seeing them and trepidatious over the reason for her visit.

It didn’t take long for them to arrive by Pegasus-back, though longer than if she were to run herself there using her Air elemental energy.  Even though it only took about 15 minutes to go a few miles to her village, she now completely understood why Sandra said the Pegasi weren’t the best choice to fly all the way to the capital; based on the massive Roc the Dungeon Core had created – which Echo couldn’t wait to ride on in the near future – she knew that the giant bird could fly much, much faster and get her there a lot sooner without any stops or worry about her falling asleep in the middle of the air.

When they touched down just outside the village, many of the Rangers were still in attendance; the hour, while an hour past dawn, was still early enough that the culling of the nearby forests hadn’t quite begun yet.  That was as she had hoped, because it was going to be better if she could let them all know the news firsthand, instead of being told later.

With bows drawn initially, the Rangers rushed out of Avensglen at the first sight of the Pegasus, though Echo could see and hear the moment when they recognized her.

“Weapons down; it’s Echo and—” Elder Herrlot said from behind the Rangers before she hesitated.