by Isabo Kelly
So he decided to go with absolute honesty. “I have to finish what I started.”
Samuel’s eyes narrowed. “You delivered the List. That was the only thing you were supposed to do.”
“Arguing with me is wasting time. Do you want the vessel opened or not?”
To Althir’s annoyance, Samuel continued to stare at him for another few moments. What did the man want him to say? He sure as hell wasn’t going to admit the full story, even if he had given Samuel the complete truth. He’d started all this, from the very beginning, to stop a war from coming to his city. He’d see it through, even if no one but Mina knew everything.
Then, if he survived, he’d be able to live with himself.
Finally, Samuel straightened his broad shoulders and said, “Do you need anything else? Another elf to help? Assistants?”
“No. The fewer witnesses the better. In fact, I’d prefer only one member of the council be present, to collect the List once the vessel is open. Have a medic stand by but somewhere outside my work area.”
“Do you want Ulric to attend you?”
Althir scowled. “Absolutely not.” He softened his expression. “And ensure Mina stays away too. She doesn’t need to see this.”
Samuel blinked at the second request but said, “I’ll see to it.” He went to the cage door. “I’ll have everything prepared and be back for you within the hour.”
“Good.” When Samuel turned to close the cage door, Althir said, “Thank you.”
Samuel’s head tilted as he considered Althir. “Thank you,” he murmured.
An hour later, true to his word, Samuel returned. He escorted Althir to the second floor of the meeting hall. Few people were around, giving the large building a deserted feel.
“Have you emptied the hall?” he asked Samuel.
“Not completely. But the battle continues so there are fewer people here anyway.”
“If this fails…” Althir flexed his fingers. “If I can’t get the vessel open, the king and queen should be able to make it happen. Don’t try to do it yourselves. No human will survive the bleeding.”
“I understand,” Samuel said without glancing at him. Quieter, he said, “I would prefer if you didn’t fail.”
Althir snorted. “Me too.”
This earned him a half smile from the councilman.
Samuel led him to a large, empty room with heavy curtains covering the windows, leaving the area dark and quiet. In the center of the scuffed wooden floor sat the List vessel, a pitcher of water, a small bowl of purple salt, and one of Mina’s short swords.
“Mina’s sword?” Althir faced Samuel.
Samuel shrugged. “She insisted. She said the weapon was very old and would bring you luck.”
Althir’s pulse kicked. Thinking of Mina was a distraction. But her gesture touched him deeply. He wanted to smile at the fact that she’d managed to be here without breaking her promise to him. Clever woman.
“She also made a point of saying this isn’t the one she used in the List chamber.” Samuel frowned. “Do you understand that?”
He nodded. “She killed a Sorcerer with one of her swords.”
“Mina killed a Sorcerer?” Samuel’s deep voice rose.
“She didn’t tell you?”
“She hasn’t given us a full report of the mission yet.”
“Well, she ensured you have one less Sorcerer to worry about.”
“Would it have affected opening the vessel, using a weapon that’s touched Sorcerer blood?”
“If any of the blood was still on the sword, it could mix with mine and trigger the part of the spell that would spread that Sorcerer’s real name to the others. It doesn’t matter now, as she’s dead. But Mina was probably worried it would complicate the opening. A good precaution.”
As Althir considered the point, he realized there might be other spells on the vessel he didn’t know about, nasty little tricks that would be activated by Sorcerer blood and do more than just release the real names. It was possible there were spells that lashed out at the one opening the vessel. By sending the sword that didn’t kill the Sorcerer, Mina made sure he didn’t inadvertently trigger something that might kill him. Ah, his woman was smart.
His woman.
Because he was standing next to Layla’s father, Althir thought of his brother and his mate. Ulric risked Layla’s sanity being with her. Yet they were still together. How could Ulric do that to Layla? How could he take such a chance? Was it possible for Althir and Mina to do the same? Could he take that chance with her? Did he dare?
There were songs written about the few great loves that had stood the test of time, relationships between elves and humans that had actually lasted. Sweeping romances from long ago. Althir had never believed those stories. Most elves didn’t. They were simply ballads to make young elves swoon. Althir hadn’t even believed in love until Mina. To consider he might experience such a powerful bond had been unthinkable. That true love between a human and elf was even possible seemed ridiculous.
Now…
Althir stared at the vessel. Considering any kind of future just then would only keep him from focusing on what he had to do. First, release the List. If he survived this, he could consider everything else.
If he survived this…
Althir nodded to one wall. “Stand over there, Samuel. And don’t interfere, no matter what happens. I will pass out at the end. Do not do anything until the lid comes off the vase.”
“If it doesn’t?”
“Then I’ve failed. Go to the king and queen.”
“Just let you die?”
“If the lid doesn’t come off before I die, you won’t be able to prevent me from dying.”
Althir pointed toward the wall again, without actually looking at Samuel, then crossed to the vessel. Slowly he paced around the simple brown vase, opening himself to the magics coating the ceramic like water flowing endlessly over the surface. He let his eyes unfocus so he could give himself over to his other senses.
Once he felt centered and in complete touch with the vessel, he picked up the pitcher of water and poured it in a slow drizzle as he went back to walking his circuit. After the outer ring was complete, he did the same thing with the salt, sprinkling it in a steady stream just inside the water’s line. He felt the circle close with a solid snap when the last grains of salt hit the wooden floor.
Mixing elf magic with this kind of ceremonial magic was always a tricky thing, but Althir had studied the Sorcerers’ process—as much as he was able, given their secretive, guarded attitude about their powers. He could feel the ebbs and flows of the spell that had gone into sealing the vessel. It rubbed against his skin like a brush of lightning. A deeper part of his consciousness detected the low hum of warning. Not actual words and not something he could entirely explain, but the hairs on his nape rose as tendrils of death and pain reached out to tap his soul.
He allowed himself a brief memory of Mina, of her beautiful face and intelligent eyes. Her determination and sorrow.
For her.
He settled on his knees before the vessel, picked up the sword and sliced open one of his forearms from inner elbow to wrist, letting the initial drips of blood roll onto the copper lid. Swallowing down a hiss of pain, he switched hands and sliced a line down his other forearm. More blood splattered onto the copper. The blood soaked into the lid the instant it touched the metal.
Setting the sword gently aside, he pressed his forearms alongside the lid, so his wounds were in direct contact with it. A jolt of pain shot through him, and his entire body stiffened. He clenched his jaw as a basic, instinctive part of him wanted to pull away, but he forced down the need and kept his arms against the vessel. Blood flowed into the lid faster and faster, and a sick, sucking noise filled the air.
Althir started to tremble as his blood rushed out of his body, quicker than the wounds would have allowed naturally, so much blood the vessel couldn’t drink it in fast enough. It dripped red over the copper and cera
mic, puddled under the base only to be absorbed into the porous pot. Blackness filled the edges of Althir’s vision, but he kept his concentration on the vessel, his full focus on the magic he was attempting to break.
In his mind, something unnatural screeched and screamed. The power whipped around him like stinging sand. The spell began to snap, cracking and breaking apart with such ferocity, Althir felt like his very soul was being ripped open.
He put all his focus into the single thought that this vessel would open. When he felt resistance in the magic, he growled the words aloud, in his own language. “You will open. You will open.” He repeated the phrase until he could no longer speak and then he continued the litany in his head. Everything in him centered on that single purpose.
More blood than he thought he had in his entire body poured out, and the brown ceramic and red copper started to glow white.
The glow was the last thing he saw before blackness closed in on his vision, leaving him blind and close to unconsciousness. He held on to his concentration, his sense of his surroundings, and the vessel for as long as he could. His body felt cold, distant, like it wasn’t his anymore, and he couldn’t have lifted his arms now if he’d wanted to.
More layers of magic rose up to replace the ones he broke through, resisting, rebelling against his efforts. But the more blood he lost, the more the spell shattered into sharp, cutting pieces.
Numbness closed around him. His sense of himself, his knowledge and focus slipped.
Then he felt one last roar of denial from the vessel.
An earthquake rumbled through Althir’s bones. He smiled to himself and forced through that last barrier with what was left of his strength. Inside the darkness of his own mind, splinters of light and screams of agony pierced him.
Finally, he let go. As he slipped away, his last thought was a vision of his beautiful Mina.
Mina stood at the door to Althir’s sickroom, staring at his unconscious form. Oh gods, he was so pale, so still. His bandaged arms lay atop the white blanket tucked around his motionless body. She swallowed hard and forced herself close to him.
His handsome face looked ravaged, his cheeks sunken, deep circles under his closed eyes, his lips dry and cracked. His chest barely moved and she had to touch him to assure herself he was really breathing.
A nurse sat quietly in one corner of the room, working on a small swatch of needlepoint as she kept watch over Althir.
“He’s really going to survive?” Mina asked the woman. Again.
“Yes, dear. Believe it or not, he looked worse just a few hours ago. Already seeing improvement. Damned elves have some recovery ability. Don’t know what he did to himself, but he was nearly bone dry of blood when they brought him here.”
Mina let out a very quiet moan. “How can he recover from that?”
“Not sure he’d have been able to, but his brother gave him a transfusion.”
Startled by the news, Mina finally looked from Althir to the nurse. “What?”
“Ulric was here right after they brought Althir up. Though maybe I shouldn’t have said. Ulric swore me to secrecy, but he was only specific about Althir finding out. Don’t tell Althir, dear. I don’t want to upset Ulric. He was very insistent his brother not know he was even here.”
“Ulric? Ulric helped Althir? They hate each other.” But a part of Mina wasn’t as surprised by Ulric’s behavior as she suspected Althir would be. Or probably Ulric was himself. It had never mattered how angry she was with her brother, she would have done anything to keep him alive if she’d had a choice. Maybe there was hope for the brothers after all.
She almost smiled. Althir would really hate that.
She stood by his bed for more than two hours, watching him breathe, holding his wrist so she could feel his slow, steady pulse. The nurse gave her an occasional speculative glance, but didn’t pry into Mina’s reasons for being here, for which Mina was grateful. She didn’t want to discuss her feelings for Althir with a stranger.
She loved him, more than she’d ever loved a man before. And she couldn’t have him.
If she knew them better, she was tempted to ask Layla and Ulric how they managed to sustain a relationship. Was there something different about Ulric, something that allowed him to be with a human where most elves couldn’t?
Althir had never even hinted that a future between them was possible. He hadn’t tried to delude her with pointless hope. She appreciated that. But it would be hard to see Ulric and Layla, happy and together, knowing she wouldn’t be free to love Althir in the same way.
Her hand tightened on his. At least he was alive. They couldn’t be together, but she wouldn’t have to watch another love die.
The nurse cleared her throat and stood. “Change of shift,” she said to Mina’s raised brows. The woman glanced at Althir. “Funny, all this care for a traitor elf. Wonder what he did to deserve it?”
Mina bit the inside of her cheek to keep from yelling at the woman and telling her exactly what Althir had done. No one was supposed to know, outside of a very select few. She was too conscious of secrets to risk revealing this one.
But that didn’t mean she couldn’t do something to help improve her people’s opinion of Althir. She considered everyone she knew in the meeting hall, and then went to find the two or three people who liked to…“chat”, as Althir would say.
She had a rumor to start.
Chapter Twenty
Three days after handing the List vessel over to the council and then nearly bleeding himself dry to open it, Althir made his way to the room Ulric kept at the Sinnale council’s meeting hall. He hadn’t spoken to his brother since he officially gave himself over to the Sinnale. But now he had a question for him, and it wasn’t something that could wait.
Since Ulric wasn’t in his room when Althir arrived, he made himself comfortable in one of the chairs set up near the ceramic heater in the corner and propped his feet up on the small table nearby. He stared out the third-story window at the surrounding buildings, sunlight sharpening the bricks and angles, and waited with forced patience. Only the fact that he still felt a little weak kept him from pacing around the small room.
When Ulric entered, he stopped short and stared. Althir stared back, amused by his brother’s surprise. Ulric wiped the expression from his face quickly and stalked into the room, dropping a small handful of letters onto his bed—the only large thing in the room.
“You shouldn’t be out of bed yet,” he said without looking at Althir. “Even you can’t recover that quickly.”
“I have a question for you.”
Ulric raised his brows. “The king and queen have lifted your banishment. You can return to Glengowyn anytime.”
Althir nodded. “Ah. Good to know. But that’s not what I came here to ask.”
“The label of traitor has been lifted.”
With a snort, Althir said, “You know I’ll always be looked at as a traitor. No matter what the king and queen say. Our people have long memories.”
Frowning, his brother faced him with his arms crossed over his chest. “Why did you do it, Althir? And don’t tell me it was for the power again. I never bought that story. You’ve never gone looking for magic beyond your own charm.”
He shrugged. “It doesn’t matter now.”
“It matters to me. I’d like to know why my brother turned against his people.”
“Of course you would.” He rolled his eyes. “That’s not what I came here to discuss.”
“You want your question answered, answer mine.”
“Ulric, there’s no point. It’s over.” Mostly to himself, he muttered, “And what I’d been trying to do worked out in the end anyway.”
Ulric’s gaze sharpened, so Althir hurried on. He did not want to discuss his reasons for turning “traitor” with Ulric, of all people. “Will you answer my question now?”
“You haven’t answered mine.”
“Is it worth it?” he asked before Ulric could attempt more interrogatio
n. “With Layla. Is it worth the risk? To her.”
The change of subjects visibly surprised his brother, leaving him silent and blinking for a few moments. Althir would have been amused if the answer to his question didn’t matter so much.
“Well?” He waved a hand to get Ulric focused. “Is it?”
“Why are you asking?”
“Ulric, stop being an ass and answer my question.”
“Yes, it’s worth the risk. But I’m in love with Layla, and she loves me.”
Althir huffed out a half laugh. “I should hope so since you nearly slit my throat for her.”
He turned back to the window and considered his brother’s answer. Ulric was counting on his and Layla’s love being that kind of love, the kind that would survive through time, the kind those romantic ballads celebrated. Ulric was gambling on the fact that he and Layla loved each other enough. He was betting on them having a true love.
A risk Althir had never even considered taking with Mina. Yet…
“Is there someone?” Ulric asked into the quiet. “A human woman?”
Althir didn’t respond.
“Mina,” Ulric said with a note of understanding and a hint of satisfaction at having guessed the answer.
Althir twisted his lips in disgust but kept his attention on the sunlit day beyond the glass pane.
“Do you love her?” Ulric pressed.
“Yes.”
Silence. Then, “You didn’t even hesitate.”
“I didn’t need to.”
“Does she know?”
“I haven’t told her yet.”
“Will you tell her?”
“I don’t know.”
“Does she love you?”
He did pause a moment before answering that question. “I don’t know,” he repeated. One of his greatest fears was that she didn’t.
“If she’s not in love with you, if you don’t truly love her, an affair will end badly. For her. You know that.”
He hissed over his shoulder at Ulric and finally stood to pace. “Of course I fucking know. Why the hell do you think I’m here asking you about this?”