Stone Dragon (The First Realm) by Klay Testamark

the gates. “Did you bring me anything from your trip?”
    “What? No, I hurried home as soon as I could.”
    He watched as she went into the storeroom. It happened that Grimalda was the village brewer, and famous for her meads and ice beers. She emerged with a keg of honeyjack.
    “That’s your best stuff! Are you just going to give it for free?”
    She smiled. “It’s a party. I’m going to give everyone a cup.”
    “What, even the slaves?”
    He watched his mother distribute the distilled mead. She made sure to give everyone, including the children, but Heronimo stayed away. Something was wrong.
    The people danced and laughed and, more often than not, swilled honeyjack. In the mead hall his father did backflips over the table, the chief and his warriors exchanged poetic insults, and the bard sang outrageous lies.
    People began dropping.
    Still singing, the bard stumbled into the fireplace and didn’t get up. Women screamed, staggered, and slumped. Children curled up where they fell.
    The chief drew his sword and called to arms, but a fireball came from nowhere and blew his head off.
    The warriors grabbed and spears and tried to get into formation but the fireballs kept coming. They shot from the rooftops, they shot from the windows, they shot from the rafters and shadows. Those who hadn’t fallen to poison died by fire. When only a handful of men remained standing, something hit the floorboards and began shredding them.
    Heronimo was under a table. His father had his sword out. He reeled from the honeyjack but was still in the fight. He charged at the thing but it avoided him. It seemed to be made of blades. His comrades fell and still it eluded him.
    “Face me, damn you!”
    The thing beheaded a warrior. The blood sprayed. Now a red shape danced among the humans, twin blades slashing and killing.
    “Face meee!” Hrascar roared.
    Then it was just him and the monster. Heronimo’s father brought up his sword. “I am Hrascar and you shall die for this!”
    The monster giggled. The sound gave Hrascar pause.
    The monster let the curtain slide away. The bloody water, now useless as an invisibility cloak, flowed down its legs. It wore a steel fox mask and Grimalda’s dress.
    “What?” Hrascar said. He lowered his sword as the monster sauntered closer. It made one shark-toothed saber disappear. It reached up and removed its mask—it was Heronimo’s mother.
    “Hi honey, I’m home!” she said. She closed the distance and opened his throat with a sawing motion, cutting deeply into his neck.
    Heronimo’s father died silently, shocked speechless. The monster watched him bleed and chuckled to herself. “Muscle-bound idiot,” she said.
    Grimalda wiped her sword on Hrascar’s shirt. Her features softened, melted, and became someone else’s. It was an elf. A male elf, as far as Heronimo could tell.
    “Very good, apprentice.” Another cloak dropped. Another masked elf stood in the great hall. “Cute dress, though.”
    “Whatever. Do I pass?”
    “Certainly. You got all the warriors. Nice touch, poisoning all the villagers. But are you sure you got everyone?”
    Heronimo couldn’t breathe.
    “Quite sure,” the apprentice said, but he didn’t sound like it.
    “Then what is this? ” Something grabbed Heronimo and threw him between the two. Another cloak dropped and there were three elves in the room.
    “What did I tell you about situational awareness?” said the elder elf.
    “Failed a spot check,” added the third elf.
    “Give me a second and I’ll take care of this loose end.”
    The elder elf shook his head. “I’m going to let him go as a lesson to you. Our order demands absolute thoroughness. If you set out to murder an entire village, you better not leave survivors! You show much talent, my apprentice, but also much arrogance. Let this be a lesson in humility.”
    “Maybe this kid will grow up into a hero,” said the third elf. “Then he’s going to find you and kick your