I spoke to her in a quiet voice, attempting to rush through an explanation: “I wasn’t able to come to you. The helm has kept me from leaving the Citadel. I’ve been working to remove it, but the magic is stronger than I expected.”
Silver eyes gleaming, she touched my cheek. When she pulled open her cloak, I found that she was wearing a sheer silver dress that showed off every curve of her body—her delicate waist, perfect breasts. I slid my gaze down her form, my blood roaring in my ears.
Desire ignited. And yet … somehow, rational thought intruded. “How did you get here? The Citadel is full of guards. It’s not safe for you—”
“I’m a trained assassin,” she said with a smile.
“That’s not enough of an explanation.”
“The Lords sent me to you. They know you want to help us.” Gently, she pushed away from me, but she still let her cloak fall open, rendering me practically mute. “Tell me what Gorm’s weakness is. What can we use against him?”
I had to tear my eyes away from her just so I could concentrate. I looked out the window as I gathered my thoughts. “Have you been chosen for the Winnowing?” I asked, stealing another look at her.
She shrugged, her silver hair falling in her eyes. “Galin, please, I don’t have much time.”
“But are you getting enough to eat, Ali? I heard about the blight.”
“What’s his weakness?”
Vaguely, I wondered why she’d come here in that transparent dress if she wanted answers, because it was deeply distracting. All I could think of was lifting it up around her waist and wrapping her legs around me. The effects of the magic zapping my brain seemed to have put me in a haze, but Ali’s beauty wasn’t making it any easier to think.
With a great deal of effort, I said, “Gorm believes that a king must lead with fear and violence. He will always take the most vicious, most brutal approach to any problem.”
“And you can use that against him?”
“Just put him in a situation where his desire for blood is in opposition with his need for restraint. He’ll overextend every time.”
“Ah,” Ali breathed. “And what of your sister, Revna? Doesn’t she advise him now?”
“She does, but her desire for blood is even greater than my father’s. He’s the one with restraint, not her.”
“Why does Gorm hate the Night Elves so much?” she pressed.
I frowned as I thought over the thousand-plus years I’d known my father. “He’s always spoken of how he hates the Night Elves. Even when I was a boy, before Ragnarok, he talked constantly of killing them. I think he blamed them for any problems in Elfheim. They were always scapegoats.”
I turned to look at her again, my pulse racing. I didn’t want to talk any longer.
I stalked closer to her. She backed up against the wall, looking up at me, and I pressed my hands to the stone behind her head. As I leaned in, my eyes were on her lips.
She held her hand up, stopping me from kissing her.
I turned my face slightly. “Ali, how did you get here? And tell me if you are part of the Winnowing.”
“I am.”
A protective fire burned in me. I’d have to kill my own kind to keep her safe. “Ali, most who fight in a Winnowing die. “
“I’ll be fine.”
“When I see you on the battlefield,” I continued feverishly, “we must pretend to fight, or we will be killed by our own people. But I will use the fight as a chance to speak to you, to get up close.”
She gave a little shrug. “We might be busy killing others.”
I felt a distance between us, and it made my chest ache with the emptiness of a world without gods. “What happened after I last saw you?”
“After you sent me back to the Shadow Caverns, I went straight to the Shadow Lords. I told them everything that happened. How we travelled into the Well of Wyrd. How you killed the Emperor of the Vanir …”
Confusion stirred in my chest. “How I killed him? I helped, but you delivered the final blow.”
Ali shoved me with unexpected force, so hard it felt like she could have broken a rib. “What did you say?” Her expression was suddenly furious. “About the emperor?”
“That you stabbed him to death.”
“No.” Ali stepped back, her face now a mask of horror, “I must have forgotten.”
She stood in the center of my room, swaying slightly. I was starting to wonder if she’d lost her mind since I last saw her. My mind churned, thoughts frantic.
“What is going on?” I demanded. “What happened to you?”
She straightened suddenly. “I must go. My people need me.”
“How in the gods’ names will you get out of here? You need to stay with me, Ali.” I moved in front of the door. If the guards caught her, she would die a painful death.
“Get out of my way, Galin.” Her eyes blazed with intensity, madness.
“Have you lost your mind?”
Ali spun away from me, fast as the wind, and ran for the window. Flying over my desk, she smashed through the glass and leapt out into the night air, twenty stories above the earth.
I felt as if the world tilted beneath me, panic stealing my thoughts.
“Ali!” I shouted leaping onto the desk, leaning out over the broken glass. Terror clutched at my heart as I looked down. I expected to see her clinging to the side of the Citadel, or worse, smashed into the snow twenty stories below.
But what I saw felt worse. A few snowflakes glistened, the lights of Boston twinkled, but there was no sign of the Night Elf.
Ali had simply vanished. I wondered if she’d actually been here at all, or if my soul had yearned for her so much I’d simply imagined her.
Perhaps I was losing my mind.
Chapter 9
Ali
As I listened to the baby shark song on repeat, the warden led us straight to Sindri, the towering column of stone where the Shadow Lords lived. A guard stood at the entrance—the same one I’d spoken to when I’d last visited.
“Winnowing?” he asked the warden.
The warden glared. “Yes, I bring prisoners from the Audr Mines for the Winnowing. They have each drawn a marked lot.”
Instead of motioning us past, the guard dropped his halberd to block the entrance. “Only the marked may enter. You don’t have a lot. You stay here.”
“These elves are dangerous criminals—”
“Lord’s orders. Release them, and I will escort them inside. You may return to the mine.”
The warden grumbled under his breath, but stepped away anyway.
The guard motioned us forward. “This way.”
Quickly, we followed him up the winding entrance tunnel. When we reached the main hall, Bo and the other prisoners stared around, awestruck. I didn’t think any of them had ever been inside the Shadow Lords’ hall.
Just as they had the last time I’d visited, the three Lords sat on their stone thrones. Unlike last time, when I’d faced them alone, elves filled the hall. Young, old, male, and female, they milled around, looking mournful, emaciated.
As we moved further into the hall, Thyra raised her hand. “My warriors! The last of the marked have arrived. We are all assembled.”
The elves quieted, turning to face the Shadow Lords.
“I will be brief,” Thyra continued. “Each and every one of you have received marked lots. Three hundred have been chosen to represent our kind. Together, you represent the last hope of the Dokkalfar. A great plague has overrun our land. Our people are dying. We need to escape the confines of the Shadow Caverns once and for all.”
Her eyes gleamed, and a heavy silence fell over the hall.
“Let me tell you, briefly, what will happen next. Tonight, we follow the tunnels that lead to Galin’s wall. In the morning, the High Elves will let us pass into Midgard. We will travel to Boston, where we will fight at sundown. The first contest will be a melee. Three hundred of us versus three hundred of them. It is a fraction of our population to st
op the starvation, and I believe it is our last hope. During the first trial, the blood will flow until half remain. Then we will rest until the next contest, and on and on until only thirty elves remain. It is a sacrifice, yes, but without it we risk total annihilation. Most of you will not survive the next week. But do not fear for your souls. A death in battle is a glorious way to die. At the moment you draw your last breath, the valkyries will lift you up and you will live in eternal glory in Folkvangr or Valhalla.”
A hundred questions raced through my mind, but I couldn’t ask them now. My muscles were tense, and fear mingled with anticipation. This was my chance to kill my oldest enemy—and this was our chance to free the Night Elves. But it could end in disaster.
Thyra continued, “We are looking for advisors among you. Anyone who has been into Midgard and may have intelligence about weaponry, tactics. As we travel, I will be collecting any information I can.”
Around me, the crowd of elves began to murmur.
Thyra nodded. “We will leave at once. The way to the wall is long and arduous—”
“Wait!” shouted Bo suddenly.
The Shadow Lord glowered. “Who dares to interrupt me?”
“I just thought— Your Lordship.” Bo bowed his head slightly. “I think you should speak to Ali. Midgard has changed over the years, and I believe she knows the High Elves better than any of us.”
Thyra’s lips thinned. “Anyone but the traitor.”
“She has visited the Citadel, met King Gorm—she’s even traveled to realms beyond our own.”
“She committed high treason,” the Shadow Lord said coolly. “She fraternized with the enemy. She helped bring Galin back from the dead. She is the reason we are in this predicament.”
Bo was right, though. I had the means to help them—I just had to convince them to let me.
I stepped forward. “You never gave me a trial. You haven’t heard my story. But if you want someone who understands the High Elves and Midgard, I’m the closest you’ve got.”
Thyra looked to the other Shadow Lords. Almost imperceptibly, Lynheid inclined her head.
With a long-suffering sigh, Thyra turned back to glare at me. “We will speak later.”
We’d walked for hours, now, making our way through the narrow tunnels that led to the surface. We only stopped to make camp when we’d reached the impenetrable magical barrier that was Galin’s wall.
I crouched next to Thyra and Ilvis on a ledge just feet from the wall. As it shimmered darkly above us, I warmed my hands beside a small fire of smoldering coal. Soup bubbled in a cast iron pot above it. All around, the chosen were leaning against walls, resting and eating. Light from torches wavered around the tunnel.
“Hungry?” Thyra asked me quietly.
I nodded, and she ladled steaming soup into an earthenware mug, then handed the mug to me without speaking. I inhaled deeply. Bird’s nest with chunks of fried bat wing, my favorite. I took a long sip, then leaned against the wall of the cave and allowed the mug to warm my hands.
It was strange being this close to Thyra and Ilvis. Ilvis was silent, with a deeply wrinkled face he kept hidden under the hood of his cloak. Thyra, on the other hand, sat with her hood pulled back as she studied me with piercing gray eyes.
Up on her throne, she’d seemed distant and aloof, but now that I’d spent the day at her side, I’d learned she was more than that. Certainly, she was quiet, but she was also sharp—a fierce intelligence within a wizened frame.
“I didn’t know he was Galin,” I said. “I only knew he was a lich. You sent me on a mission into Midgard, and I was captured. The lich got me out. He looked nothing like Galin, and I knew he wasn’t a High Elf. I traveled with him because I thought we were retrieving the ring you wanted. I swear to you that I had no idea who he was. I always planned to destroy the wall, and I still do. It’s been my dream since I was a little girl. And since Galin sent you that letter, getting me thrown in prison—who do you think wants that High Elf fuck dead more than anyone?”
“Mmmm.” Thyra considered me. “Perhaps.”
“You will see. I will kill him,” I promised. “When do we cross into Midgard?”
“We cross the barrier in the morning,” she replied. “Galin’s wall will be temporarily lifted.”
“And then what?”
“The first contest of this Winnowing is to be held in Boston Common, at the corner of Beacon and Charles Street. We fight at dusk.”
“Until three hundred elves remain?”
“Yes.”
I rubbed a knot in my forehead. “I realize this is our only hope, but this is a bad deal.”
Thyra’s eyes narrowed. “We have Wyrd on our side.”
I groaned inwardly. Wyrd was starting to seem like bullshit to me. “That’s what the High Elves think, too, because everyone tells themselves that. It won’t be enough, not when their weaponry vastly outshines ours. We will need to be strategic.”
“How so?” Thyra leaned forward, studying me intently.
“Our people are armed with rusty swords and broken shields. The High Elves will be in full plate armor and wielding six-foot broadswords. As soon as the Winnowing starts, they’ll charge and cut down half of us before we can even touch one of them. We’re going to get slaughtered if we don’t have a brilliant plan.” I sighed, my mind racing as I tried to come up with a solution. “If I were in charge, I’d lay a trap. Having Wyrd on our side doesn’t mean we can’t also seize the initiative tomorrow.”
Thyra exchanged a look with Ilvis. “Can you be more specific?”
“What if we goad Gorm into attacking us? The High Elves will charge our position and we’ll counter-attack. We can use our vergr crystals to flank them.”
Thyra shook her head. “We can’t use crystals. The Winnowing rules strictly forbid the use of magic. Even scribing a simple rune is grounds for disqualification.”
I shrugged. “So a few of us are disqualified. It’s a tactical decision.”
“The rules state that for every disqualified elf, an additional two elves from their side must also die. I will not sacrifice the lives of our people in that way.”
Balls. “Okay. Forget that.” I closed my eyes, working through the possibilities. “What if we armed ourselves with spears?”
She frowned at me like I was a total idiot. “We don’t have any spears. There are no trees in the Shadow Caverns.”
My mind raced. “Are we allowed to used magic to help in our preparations?”
Thyra pulled a bundle of papers from her satchel. She licked the end of her forefinger, then began flipping through them, muttering under her breath.
“What’s that?”
“It’s the contract I signed with the High Elves. It contains the rules of the Winnowing.” She hummed low in her throat as she read it. Then, she looked up at me. “There’s nothing that says we can’t use magic in our preparations.”
“Did you bring any vergr crystals?”
Thyra nodded. “Yes, but we only have five.”
“Can I borrow them and four elves?” I pointed to the shimmering black magic that made up Galin’s wall. “What if I lead a small team across the barrier tonight? There are plenty of dead trees in the Common we can use to construct spears. We’ll hide them in the snow on the battlefield. Then, when the High Elves charge, we snatch them up and the High Elves impale themselves. I know the landscape. I’ve been there just recently, and no one else has. I can do this faster than anyone.”
Thyra’s eyes gleamed in the darkness of the cave. “That could work. However, I will instruct everyone around you to slaughter you if you make an attempt to flee or betray us again.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
“And so I’m clear on the plan,” said Thyra, “when you’re done, you’ll return to tell me exactly where the spears are hidden? Or you forfeit your life in an excruciating manner?”
“I will send an elf back to show you where to find the spears.”
“You won’t come
yourself?”
I bit my lip. “Do the rules say anything about when we can arrive at the battlefield?”
“They do not.”
“What if I and the other three of my team conceal ourselves in the snow? Once the battle is underway, we could attack from the rear.”
“Only four to attack from the rear?”
I leaned forward, speaking in a whisper. “More of an assassination, focused on Galin. He’s the biggest threat among them. His father had him locked up for a thousand years, like a weapon he was waiting to use, instead of killing him. He’s the Sword of the Gods. The prince is the real threat here. If we sneak up from behind when he’s not expecting us, it’s our best chance.”
Thyra continued to sip her soup as she mulled over my words. At last, she answered, “I will choose your team so that I can be certain they are watching you. They will report any deception back to me.”
“Deal.”
“And one more thing.” Thyra reached into her bag. “I believe this is yours.”
As she pulled her hand back out, I gasped, and a smile curled my lips. A blade glistened in her hand. Black as the darkest cavern, sharp enough to slice an elf’s throat to the bone.
This was my blade. My dearest friend. Skalei.
Thyra glared at me. “Now, hold out your forearms so that I may carve the binding runes again.”
Chapter 10
Galin
I stood on a small knoll overlooking Boston Common, the ancient park in the center of the city. In its earliest incarnation, the Common had been a burial ground for the Wampanoag people. In the Puritan era, it had been a cow pasture and site of the witch-hanging tree. Later, the British had used it as a camp for their soldiers during the American Revolution. It was only in the early years of the 19th century that the city had designated it a park.
Now, for the first time in its long history, it would be a battlefield.
I still wondered if I’d see Ali here, or if my visit from her had been a figment of my imagination.
Ruined King (Night Elves Trilogy Book 2) Page 5