Night Elves of Ardani: Book One: Captive

by Nina K. Westra

  He paused in the middle of packing up the campsite. He looked at her like she was a piece of meat that he was thinking of cutting up into bloody pieces and then devouring. It probably wasn’t far from the truth. She’d heard stories of night elves doing similar things to her people.

  Her fingers tightened into useless fists. Her heart crept into her throat. Where was the other one? Had he left to let them return to the outpost alone?

  She could have sworn on the goodness of the Five that the smiling one had been about to approach her, when the other one returned, walking in from the trees beyond the cave, and then the tension in the air faded.

  She watched them douse the coals of the fire and pack their things. It didn’t take long. They traveled light.

  By then, she badly needed to answer the call of nature, and dreaded broaching the subject. Finally, Smiler left to venture into the woods for something. Novikke quickly took the opportunity to approach Serious.

  He looked up at her with annoyance when he noticed her coming closer. Leaving the bag he’d been fiddling with, he stood up straight and rested a hand on the hilt of his sword in a warning gesture.

  Novikke gave a derisive snort. “What do you think I’m going to do?” she said, motioning with her tied hands.

  He just looked at her, waiting.

  “I have to…” she began. He couldn’t understand her. If only one of them had had a translation enchantment. She hesitated, then made a very vague gesture that she hoped would communicate her desire.

  Unsurprisingly, he did not understand that, either. He raised an eyebrow at her.

  Novikke sighed. She made a less vague, more embarrassing gesture. This time, he understood. He considered her, then motioned for her to follow him.

  He took her a dozen paces into the forest—not as far as she would have liked—and stopped. Novikke went a few steps farther and hid behind a tree that was also not as broad as she would have liked. She hesitated, looking pointedly at the elf, who was still watching her suspiciously. He rolled his eyes and turned halfway away from her.

  When she’d finished, they started back toward the cave. Beyond the trees, Smiler had returned and was waiting for them by the camp. She felt a sudden surge of urgency to make use of this brief moment of time she had alone with the less awful of her captors.

  “My name is Novikke,” she said in a rush.

  He turned to give her a blank look.

  She pressed her hands to her chest. “Novikke.”

  He frowned a little. She knew he’d heard the desperation in her voice and seen it in her face. She couldn’t tell if it had made him feel sympathy or if he just found it pathetic.

  He put a hand lightly to his chest. “Aruna,” he said. As an afterthought, he waved toward the other one. “Zaiur.”

  She had expected him to ignore her. Grateful for the simple gesture, she nodded, and that was the extent of the exchange.

  ◆◆◆

  Around midnight, they stopped to rest in a clearing by a river. The elves refilled their canteens and quietly ate preserved food from their packs.

  Novikke sat in a patch of black grass and violet moss, as far away as she could get without them ordering her to stay closer. Her stomach twisted with hunger and her eyes kept trying to close of their own accord.

  She gave in and closed her eyes, and listened to the soft gurgling of the river. She picked at the rope around her wrists. It was rubbing her skin raw.

  She sensed someone approaching, and her eyes snapped open. It took a moment to make out his face in the dim. Aruna.

  He handed her a small bundle of cloth. She took it uncertainly, and looked inside. There was some kind of grayish bread. She frowned up at him.

  “Why bother with this if you’re going to kill me anyway?”

  His eyes shone with that eerie catlike glow in the darkness, and his face was more shadow than anything else. Novikke felt suddenly uneasy.

  Sometimes they seemed almost human, and sometimes she had a difficult time seeing them as anything other than night-dwelling monsters. The kind of creatures that children feared were lurking under their beds.

  She turned her attention to the food. Even if she was going to die, there was no point in starving herself beforehand.

  To her surprise, Aruna sat down near her and waited. When she’d finished, he offered her a canteen. Novikke hesitated. She’d seen them fill the canteens from the river. Maybe their constitutions were strong enough for such things, but she preferred to avoid drinking water from strange sources. The last thing she wanted to do was drink some bad water and start vomiting. She was sure they’d just kill her if she became too much of a burden.

  When she didn’t take it, he pointed to a marking on the side of the canteen—a small rune that glowed faintly. A purification enchantment, she guessed. Clever.

  She took the canteen from him and drained the rest of its contents before handing it back.

  They followed the river for a short while before turning toward a gentle incline that led them to a cliff overlooking a deep canyon. The sky brightened with the coming morning, and in the light, Novikke realized that there was a structure ahead of them. An ancient-looking bridge spanned the canyon. She was surprised when they came to a stop in front of it.

  To even call it a bridge at this point was generous. It was wood with metal supports, and both materials were in equal states of decay. Moss and grass had eaten into the wood, and the metal was rusting and thin in places. Most alarming was the fact that halfway across the bridge, the entire left side had collapsed, leaving only the railing and enough space for a foothold just below it. They would have to cling to the railing and edge their way across.

  “We’re not really going across that?” Novikke said, too shocked to remember not to speak. It didn’t look like it would hold their weight.

  “Can you fly, instead?” Zaiur said. “I could give you a push, and we can find out.”

  But there seemed to be a disagreement between the elves about how they should proceed. They studied the bridge, the tones in their voices varying from concerned to annoyed. The discussion quickly devolved into bickering, which ended in Zaiur abruptly turning and approaching Novikke.

  She flinched away. He grabbed her hands and, with a jerk, untied the knot and unraveled the rope. She stared as he looped the rope into his belt and then went to the bridge.

  Aruna was beside her and holding her wrist before she could think to do anything with her momentary freedom.

  At the edge of the bridge, Zaiur glanced back at Aruna to say something, which Aruna replied to tersely. He waited until after Zaiur had turned away before he rolled his eyes.

  As Zaiur crossed the bridge, Novikke glanced sideways at Aruna, wondering how good her chances would be in a struggle with him. Varai warriors were dangerous in many ways, but they were not known for their brawn. Zaiur was her height, and Aruna was only a little taller. But both of them looked strong. And they were armed. And gods knew it hadn’t gone well the last time she’d tried to fight them.

  Aruna’s eyes slid sideways to meet hers, as if he’d guessed exactly what she was thinking. Novikke cleared her throat. Nerves stomped out any notion she’d had of fighting or running.

  Zaiur had walked to the middle of the bridge, where the floor disappeared. He turned sideways, held onto the railing with both hands, and began creeping across. Novikke waited for him to slip and fall into the canyon, but after an uneventful journey he stepped safely out onto the other side of the canyon.

  Novikke didn’t bother to suppress a disappointed sigh. She heard Aruna exhale sharply, and glanced up at him in time to see his smirk before it disappeared.

  He let go of her arm and nodded toward the bridge. Seeing no better option, she started across.

  The timber that made up the floor sagged under her feet. She quickly edged to the side, holding onto the railing for support. Zaiur watched her from the other side, arms crossed.

  At the halfway point, the floor ended, having
long ago rotted away. Looking down, she could still see the remains of the timbers sitting on the banks of the river that rushed far below.

  It occurred to her that she could jump.

  She looked down, down, down. The height made her dizzy. The fall would kill her, almost definitely. She held a little tighter to the slippery railing.

  They were going to kill her. They would probably torture her, if they thought she was a spy. This would be quicker, and it would be on her terms. She wouldn’t be giving people like Zaiur the satisfaction of taking her life.

  She looked down at the river for a long time.

  “Hurry up,” Zaiur grunted.

  Novikke shot him an angry glance, then carefully crept the rest of the way across.

  As soon as she stepped off the bridge, Zaiur grabbed her and started tying her hands again. Novikke stood still and let him. She was watching Aruna pad over the sodden slats on the far side of the bridge.

  He made it to the halfway point without incident and then started across the narrower section. There was no worry on his face. Novikke got the sense that they’d come this way before. It came as a surprise to all of them when, as he was nearing safety, the joint in the wood beneath his feet fell apart.

  Novikke gaped. Zaiur muttered a curse. Aruna scrambled and caught himself on the next section of the railing’s supports. He gave a wordless shout, and Novikke couldn’t tell if it was from surprise or pain. He dangled over the canyon. Novikke saw a flash of the unmistakable bright sanguine of blood. Zaiur dropped the rope he’d been tying her with and started toward the bridge.

  Her heart raced. She didn’t wait to see what happened. She turned and ran, throwing the rope aside.

  She’d gone four steps before a hand yanked on her jacket and stopped her short. She thrashed, and Zaiur grunted as her elbow and then her foot both hit soft flesh.

  But then a hand closed around her wrist and managed to twist her arm behind her back, pushing it at an angle it should never be pushed into. Novikke cried out in pain and went limp. She thought he would stop there. Instead, he pushed harder. Novikke felt something in her shoulder snap. She screamed.

  The pain was overwhelming. She was only vaguely aware of him letting go of her. Without him supporting her, she crumpled to the ground, cradling her arm.

  For a few seconds, the world disappeared into pain, and when it returned, it was blurry with tears. From the ground where she lay, she looked toward the bridge. Aruna had managed to climb up and was stepping out onto the ground. Novikke squinted at him.

  His left arm was covered in blood, which was gushing from a slash on his wrist and dripping to the grass below. He must have cut it on a bit of metal on the bridge. He’d clasped a hand around his upper forearm to stem the blood flow. His jaw was set tightly.

  It was not a superficial wound. He could die if they didn’t stop the bleeding soon.

  Zaiur dug in a pocket, produced a roll of gauze, and quickly pressed a bundle of it against the cut. The blood soaked through it almost immediately. Evidently, neither of them knew any healing magic.

  They’d been speaking in quiet, worried tones. Now their voices grew louder and more sharp as they argued. Novikke watched them dully. Neither of them looked at her. At last Aruna shouted something that made Zaiur stop talking. They both stared at the blood seeping through the gauze, as if at a loss.

  Novikke reached into a pocket, wincing as pain lanced through her limp arm. Her fingers closed around a tiny bottle. A part of her still wanted to save it for herself. It could be lifesaving at the right moment. But if Aruna didn’t survive, she might not live long enough for it to matter.

  “I have something,” she said softly. They looked up at her. She held out the bottle.

  “What is that?” Zaiur said, looking unimpressed and oozing suspicion.

  “Wound sealer.” It was not quite an alchemist’s panacea. Those were far beyond what someone with a courier’s salary could afford. Instead, she carried a lesser version of them—a solution that could help close cuts with enchantments for purification and blood clotting. “I would use it quickly,” she said when neither of them came to take it.

  Finally, Aruna came to her. He uncorked the bottle and sniffed it. He glanced down at Novikke, suspicious. His face was hard and studiously devoid of feeling, hiding fear. Novikke gave him a small, encouraging nod.

  His hand shook as he dumped the contents of the bottle over the heavily bleeding gash. It came out dark and slow, like molasses. He dropped the bottle and watched.

  After a long few seconds, the dripping of blood stopped. Then the raw red and white inside the wound slowly darkened with clotted blood, then with new flesh. After a minute, all that remained was a half-healed line, fully sealed over.

  Aruna watched it until the healing stopped. He exhaled softly and looked over at Novikke, his expression unreadable. Having averted that crisis, Novikke took a shuddering breath and bent over, shutting her eyes against pain in her arm and shoulder.

  ◆◆◆

  Hours later, the sun rose. The elves shaded their eyes against the glare. Novikke, who had been shivering, was glad for the heat of it on her skin. She zigged toward shafts of sunlight while the elves zagged to avoid them.

  Soon they stopped at an abandoned stone tower built into the side of a hill, which was the first building Novikke had seen since they’d entered the forest. It sent a fresh wave of fear through her. They must have been getting closer to civilization if they were coming upon buildings.

  They went inside and into a freezing, dark, stone room inside the hill. They pulled shutters over the windows, blocking out all but the smallest hint of light. It felt, to Novikke, like a tomb.

  Zaiur and Aruna bickered quietly again as they set up camp. It seemed to be their default method of communication. She wondered, as she watched them, what they’d been doing out by the road and why they’d ended up traveling together. They certainly didn’t seem to like each other much.

  Novikke sat against a wall near the window, where a hint of light came in through a crack. Cold wind also came in, which she tried to ignore.

  She was careful not to move her injured arm. Aruna had pushed it back into its socket, which had been excruciating for a second and only dully painful afterward, but now it still ached, like she’d torn something.

  She stretched out on her uninjured side, with her back along the wall. The change in sleeping schedule was getting to her. She was exhausted all the time.

  She wondered if anyone missed her. There was Lexas at the bar in Livaki, who she was friendly with. And there was Dion in Valtos, and the group at Fort Varian. They would probably wonder where she’d gone, after a while. And a while after that, they’d forget about her.

  Her brow twitched down in a flash of anger that she had no right to feel. There was no one left who cared about her. That wasn’t anyone else’s fault, though. She couldn’t be angry at anyone for not being there to worry for her.

  And she couldn’t blame the army for not coming to her rescue. Plenty of more important people than herself had been captured or killed in battle. That was the way things went, wasn’t it?

  The only person who could help her now was herself. And that was no different from how things had always been.

  At some point, she drifted off.

  She awoke some time later, in darkness and silence except for the wind whistling through the shutters. The cold had awakened her. There was no sun on this side of the hill, she realized. Nothing to warm the stone, even during the day. Her fingers and toes were icy. A shudder ran through her, and she curled herself into a tight ball. It didn’t help much.

  There was a rustling nearby. She went still, listening. More rustling, and then soft footsteps coming toward her.

  She didn’t open her eyes. She wouldn’t have been able to see, anyway. She pretended to be asleep, which she was not sure would do her any good.

  The footsteps stopped beside her head. There was a long pause. She realized she was holding
her breath. She kept holding it.

  Then something settled on top of her. She flinched, and then she realized what it was. A blanket.

  The footsteps padded away.

  After a moment, she reached up to pull it closer around her.

  Chapter 3

  In the morning—evening, that is—when she awoke, she was alone. The shutters were open, casting dim light across the room. Novikke looked around the space in puzzlement. There was only one pack and bedroll in the room now. The other had disappeared without a trace.

  Meaning that one of the elves had left, and one had not.