The other two elves cried out in anger and rushed toward her with swords held over their heads. She kept funneling her energy into the trees, siphoning it from the stone and earth surrounding them in that dungeon. It was slow going, the siphoning, because cut stone was practically inert and the dirt below and behind the cut stones wasn't healthy, but every little bit helped.
The two elves were right in front of her, charging. Six feet. Four feet.
The cell doors' magical hardening only made them require more pressure before breaking. When they finally broke, that pressure was released all at once and the doors exploded outward, flying across the room like missiles. The elf closest to her didn't even have time to cry out before a door struck him, not slowing down until it buried itself into a wall. What happened to the elf it had blown away with it was pretty gruesome.
The second elf stopped in his tracks, mouth open in a horrified "O" shape. He glanced at Bells, then at the tree with its impaled elf ornament—and turned to run.
As he turned around, Jaekob leaped forward, landing behind the elf with his claws extended through his fingers. It must have been agony for Jaekob, as always, but not as much agony as it was for the elf when he ran into those claws belly first.
Jaekob grinned savagely and tore his claws out in an arc. The elf collapsed, sliding down the dragon prince to the floor, where he lay motionless.
Bells let out a deep breath, then ran toward the air chute. It was time to go. But go where? She struggled to think clearly through the images of those elves dying.
One problem at a time, she reminded herself.
Jaekob
Jaekob squatted with his fingers interlaced in front of him, helping Dawning get into the chute by letting the fae step on his hands and lifting. The vines growing up the chute, thanks to Bells, made the climb possible and soon Dawning was out of sight.
Bells said, "Your turn."
"Not a chance. You can argue here or go first so we get out of here." He grinned, eyes locked with hers. He hadn't noticed before, but her eyes were a mix of blue-green and hazel, wide set, something between almond-shaped and round. High cheekbones drew the gaze toward her eyes. They were stunning.
"What?" Bells looked back at him, cheeks reddening. She wore a quirky half-smile, one side rising up slightly on her mouth, which was a touch too small for her face, but it worked for her somehow. The fullness of her lips not only compensated for it but made her smile even prettier.
"Just waiting for you, little fae." He hoped she hurried and they got out of there before some trolls came by.
Thankfully, she only paused a second before stepping onto his hands and scurrying up the chute. He watched her climb—she was nimble, that one. With the vines to help, she was out of view disappointingly fast.
Last of them, Jaekob jumped up, channeling energy into his legs to get high enough, and grabbed the vines at the bottom of the chute. Legs dangling, hand over hand he climbed until he got his feet in the chute, too. From there, he used feet and hands alike to press himself against the chute walls and scurry up, neatly avoiding Bells' worry about whether the vines would hold him.
A few seconds later, Dawning and Bells helped him through the opening and into the outside world again. Hawking was there, too, surprisingly. But where to go? Anywhere Jaekob knew to go, the White King probably had people watching. Bells was an outsider and didn't know the city. He looked at Dawning and Hawking and raised an eyebrow.
Hawking straightened his half-tucked shirt and ran fingers through his short hair. "I suspect we need a place to hide, and fast. I have a place, but you can never speak of it to anyone. Only I know where it is."
"Deal." Jaekob moved his hand in a circle, like pedaling a bike. Hurry it up, mister.
Dawning shook his head. "Not me. I have to go. The Society must be warned, our people activated."
Bells started to object, but Hawking stepped up and gripped the other fae's arm. "I know, friend. Be safe, and Creation guide you."
"You as well." Dawning fled north, vanishing at the first shadow he reached.
Hawking's voice grabbed Jaekob back into the moment. "Very well," he said. "Follow me."
Hawking led them south to the tree line, then deeper into the greenbelt growing outside the makeshift prison. When Jaekob could no longer see through the trees to the prison and the field outside it, Hawking stopped and faced two trees growing about six feet apart.
"You have a hidden entrance or something?" Bells asked, looking around. Jaekob wondered at that, too, but kept silent as he stood by, alert for anyone following them.
"You'll see." Hawking held out his hands and grabbed a white ring on his right ring finger, rotating it so the polished wooden centerpiece faced down instead of up.
Then he moved his hands in intricate patterns. Light trailed his hands. As he repeated the pattern three times, the trail grew brighter and more complete. When he finished the third repetition, a glowing red glyph hung in the air between the trees. The symbol seemed to explode, but in silent slow motion, and a dark spot formed where the symbol had been. As the explosion's edges expanded, so did the dark spot. After a moment, it stretched from tree to tree, a swirling, ominous-looking black and purple vortex as flat as a mirror.
"Follow," he said and walked into the vortex, vanishing.
Bells followed next without a word and, Jaekob noticed, without hesitating. A brave one, that girl. Well, if she could do it, he could. He held his breath as he stepped through—
—and found himself somewhere else. Bells and Hawking were there, too. Jaekob looked around and saw they were in an ordinary house. There were no windows, though it was well lit. The walls themselves seemed to be glowing.
"Where are we?" Jaekob asked.
"In my bolt hole, where I can bolt if I have to go on the lam."
"On the lamb?" Bells said. "What lamb?"
"No, 'lam.' I read it in an old human book. It means to be on the run. Like now. In my line of work, you never know when a competing merchant or Crown of Pures goons will come to take everything I worked for."
Jaekob frowned. That was practically treasonous. "The Crown of Pures doesn't take from Pures without a reason, Hawking. What are you trading?"
"Actually, my friend, they do—if someone pays them a big enough bribe. I've seen it happen to others. I've paid them, too. Paying them off so they don't do that to me is simply part of doing business in Philadelphia, but you never know when a competitor might pay a high enough price. Or if you just irritate some low-level officer and he destroys you with one report."
No way. That couldn't be. No doubt the merchant was trading in something illegal or helping the poor humans. There was no other reason to fear the Crown, not unless one was deep in politics—as the First Councilor and his heir were. Still, the fae had opened up his hideout to them, and that was kind.
"Well, thank you for taking us here. I will say nothing to anyone, as I promised, but I'll hear no more treason."
Hawking nodded and shrugged. "I will speak no more truth on the matter, then."
Bells interrupted hastily, probably to defuse the situation. "Well, I'm exhausted. Can I sit down?"
Hawking shrugged. "Sure, wherever you like. My house is yours, for now."
She gave him a grateful nod and sat on the couch. Hawking then sat on a love seat—sitting right in the middle—and smiled.
Could he have been more obvious? Jaekob sat beside Bells and let out a satisfied groan. It really felt good to be off his feet and sitting on something more comfortable than a stone prison floor.
He was suddenly very aware of Bells, beside him. Where her leg brushed against his, it was like electricity flowing into him, making his skin tingle. Although her leg was a lot shorter than his long, muscular one, he could see how toned she was even through her jeans, which hugged every curve...
He shook his head to clear the thoughts and looked at the ceiling. What was wrong with him? Then the thought struck him—what was wrong with him not to hav
e seen her before? Really seen her. Not only was she beautiful—she always had been, but a lot of people were—she was also braver than a fae had any right to be, given what he'd seen of how her people were treated. He believed her now about that, and frowned. He'd refused to help the fae, before, and what kind of leader did that make him? Yet she'd still helped him, despite himself. It was irritating that he couldn't stop thinking about her. Irritating, and rather pleasant.
"Jaekob." Bells' voice cut through as she shook his shoulder, snapping him back to reality.
"What? Sorry." He saw that Hawking was standing on the other side of the room, hands held up with palms out, fingers curled into claws. His whole body was so rigid that he was shaking a little bit.
"Someone is trying to come through the door,” she explained. “Hawking says he can't hold them out much longer."
"I didn't hear him say that. There's a door?"
"Yes, for Creation's sake, listen. Get ready." Bells stood and walked to face where Hawking was facing but off to one side, and slid her hand into her seed pouch.
Jaekob hopped up and landed in a crouch, claws out. He ignored the pain of dragon claws growing through his finger bones and skin.
Hawking groaned and sank to his knees. He was drained, and nothing stood between them and whoever was outside. Jaekob slid his feet until he stood between Hawking and the wall he'd been facing.
The wall slid open and a dragon stood in the doorway, a tunnel behind her, and Jaekob began to leap—until he saw the woman wore the colors of Mikah's household. Catching himself made him stagger.
"Who are you and why are you here?" he commanded.
The dragon woman knelt and brought her fist to her forehead. "My Prince, I am here because your father, Mikah, sent me to warn you—"
"Warn me about what? If this is a ploy, I promise, you'll wish you hadn't come here."
She stood, putting her hands by her side. "I already wish I hadn't, but it is my duty. I'd rather be out there with the First Councilor, Rising at his side."
Rising? Mikah? Jaekob felt a tingle run from his scalp to his calves, the hair rising on his arms. What had he missed? "It seems I've been out of the loop. I don't know what you mean. What Rising?"
Hawking rose to his feet, unsteady, and said, "How did you find this place? I'm the only one still alive who knows of it." He looked at Jaekob and added, "Don't trust her. The First Councilor would have no cause to even look for this place, and no one strong enough to find it."
The messenger snorted. "I didn't find your hideout, fae. I found Jaekob. His bandoleer has a hair of his mother woven into it, and it was this that we were able to trace using a rejoining spell and another of her hairs."
Jaekob looked down at his bandoleer. Of course. His father had a way to track him this entire time if the need were urgent enough. Apparently, it wasn't urgent enough when he'd been captured, nor when he'd been outside the Wards and at risk from the infection. What could be more urgent than that? "What's the message?" he asked, more than curious.
The messenger sneered at Bells for a moment before looking back, and her face became expressionless again. Jaekob felt a puff of smoke from his nose rolling up the sides of his face before being whisked away in the air.
"My Prince, I do have a message for you from your father. The dragons are indeed finally Rising. He is leading them. But before they can strike out at the White King and the Black Court and their allies, you are ordered to find Shmsharatsh, the Sword of Fire. Only after you have either retrieved it or destroyed it can the dragons fly to war. Getting it back is preferred, of course, and will be a mark in your favor. Destroy it only as a last resort."
Jaekob almost took a step back in surprise. His lips curled into a snarl on their own and the room took on a red glare as his eyes lit up. He had to keep his hands curled into fists to avoid summoning his claws. "Ordered to? Listen, I don't have any intention of flying to war with him. I wanted war against the elves when it was the right thing to do, and he said no. Now he wants to fight both elven people? Why we fight matters. What cause could he have now that he didn't have already?"
The messenger didn't flinch or look away. "You misunderstand. You aren't going to fly to war with your father. Once you have the sword, you are to deliver it to him, and he won't need you to risk going into battle with him."
"There won't be a battle if I destroy it." Jaekob felt a little satisfaction when the messenger's lips drew thin, pressed together.
"You will return to the manor when you are done with your mission. He values your safety, for some reason. And he is the First Councilor—it isn't required that you agree with his war, only that you follow orders."
Jaekob wanted to rip the woman's throat out for her arrogant tone, as though she were ordering Jaekob and not his father. It must be one of Darren's sympathizers, because no one else would dare talk to him like that.
That would mean the messenger was a spy, and that Darren had a plan to get the sword before Jaekob could deliver it. He'd have to be wary, if he even retrieved the sword at all. He replied, "Very well, I will find the sword and make sure the elves don't use it against us. I could never allow elves to enslave my people. Tell me, though, did Mikah say anything about why he allowed the leader of the opposition party to take me prisoner? Does he know what they intended to do to me? And last I heard, Darren was moving against him. What has he done about this? Where do the people stand now that we're finally on the brink of war?"
Jaekob had forced himself to appear calm as he watched the messenger like a hawk, trying to catch any reaction to his comments about Darren—any clue as to the messenger's real loyalties.
The messenger pursed her lips and pressed her ears back a fraction of an inch. Jaekob heard the woman's heart skip a beat before she replied, "The First Councilor didn't allow it, not by choice. You had already escaped by the time he could do anything about it."
"And my other question?"
"The opposition party leader and your father have set aside their differences for the good of the dragon people. You should do the same if you truly intend to put your people ahead of yourself, as any good leader must. Certainly Darren has. Will you?"
Someday, Jaekob decided, when this was all over, he was going to bust this messenger down to cleaning toilets or worse. "Very well. You have delivered your message, and I commend you on a job well done. You may tell my father that I will obey his instructions, of course." He waved his hand dismissively.
The messenger inclined her head, performed a military about-face, and marched out the way she had come in.
Bells rushed to Jaekob, stopping a couple of feet away. She reached out to touch his arm, but then pulled her hand back hesitantly. "Are you okay? Can you tell me what that was about?"
He felt like he was about to burst, ready to tear the hideout apart brick by brick, but that wouldn't help the situation. It probably wouldn't even make him feel any better. He shook his head and walked stiffly to the couch, where he sat ramrod straight, feet together, hands on his knees, and closed his eyes. He needed a minute.
It was hard to believe his father was sending him on a mission like that with no support. He had planned to go with Bells to the manor and gather some of the elite dragon scouts to go with them to hunt for the sword, but now that plan was gone. He would have to go alone.
No, not alone. He would have to bring Bells, because only together would the sword do them any good. And yet, it seemed to be doing just fine for whoever had it. Perhaps they had a dragon and a fae working for them, as hard as it was to believe.
He kept his eyes closed, resisting the urge to look at Bells. She was beautiful, that much was true, but even more than that, she was beautiful on the inside. He hadn't quite noticed it before—not really—but now that he had, the last thing he wanted to do was to take her with him on a dangerous mission into enemy territory to face someone with a sword that could control their minds.
If he was honest with himself, he was convinced this would be a suic
ide mission. His father was throwing him away, supposedly for the good of the people but definitely not for Jaekob's good. In the best-case scenario, he would return the sword to his father and be forced to sit out the war. A war with no certain goal, making enemies of just about everyone. Would Mikah truly be one who would use the Sword of Fire to control the world?
Jaekob knew the answer. Of course Mikah would. He would do anything to restore order to the world, and if he controlled them all, he could get every representative on the Crown of Pures to agree to open the Veil again. Mikah would rule both worlds for the "good of the people." But wasn't Jaekob one of those people?
Worse yet, Mikah may have made peace with Darren, but that snake in the grass had certainly not made peace with him. No, Darren was just biding his time. If that ambitious, heartless monster got his hands on the Sword of Fire, the end result of the war would look very, very different than if Mikah or Jaekob did.
The reality seemed to be that he and Bells wouldn't make it through this mission alive, not without help and support. He had just truly seen Bells for the first time, hadn't even begun to explore his feelings for her, and now he never could. The only thing he knew for sure was that the way he felt about her was nothing like how he had felt about Jewels. With Jewels, she had ruled his thoughts and he would happily have thrown his life away to become the son-in-law of a blacksmith.
With Bells, it was different. She would never have allowed him to avoid his duty, but would instead have supported him as prince and then as First Councilor with all her ability. It was the kind of person she was.
Maybe he did deserve the fate that seemed likely coming for him, but Bells didn't. He smiled at the thought of calling her his "little fae" again.
He let out a deep breath and opened his eyes, finding her standing a few feet away, looking at him with a concerned expression. Well, at least if they were likely to die soon, they would be doing it together. He'd save her if he could find a way, however.
He forced a smile and hoped she wasn't reading his aura. "I guess we should get started."
Embers of Darkness (Through the Ashes Book 2) Page 9