by Isabo Kelly
Carefully, and sticking close to the buildings, they made their way through the deserted, ramshackle part of the city that was the buffer between the two warring parties. The occasional gas lamp provided small pools of light, but most of them were dark. The closer they got to the Sinnale border, the fewer patches of light there were.
Twice they ducked into dark recesses to avoid human patrols. Once they nearly walked out into the path of a minion group. And once they had to change direction to avoid another skirmish. First moon was high overhead by the time they found an empty building that Einar deemed a suitable hiding spot.
Inside, they quietly searched the three levels of the small building, checking for the presence of others likely to return. Every room and corridor was covered in dust that looked undisturbed for months, maybe years. Einar checked the roof as well, assessing possible escape routes. When he was satisfied they were as safe as they could be for the night, he motioned her back inside.
“I’ll call an owl. You’ll be more comfortable downstairs.”
“I won’t be comfortable until we make contact with someone who can help us,” she said.
“Still. It’s cold tonight. I don’t want you to take a chill.” He gestured to her torn riding robe. “You’ve been running and tense. When the sweat cools, you’ll notice the cold out here.”
“So will you,” she said. Then smiled. “And are you trying to tell me I stink of sweat?”
His mouth crooked up at one side, just barely. “You always smell lovely. Go inside. I’ll join you shortly.”
Giving in, she took the roof stairs to the third floor to scout a suitable room to rest in. They were fortunate that the windows in this building were mostly intact, at least on this floor. Several of the rooms had furniture, though most of it was too filthy to make for comfortable sitting. She found two rooms with beds and one of those beds appeared relatively clean, though it was bare. She studied that room and realized it wasn’t as dirty in general as the other rooms, the dust only just starting to accumulate again.
Someone had used that space, not long ago. But there were no signs of it being readied for a return visitor. When she checked the ceramic heater in the corner, there was no kindling or flint and steel to start a fire. Someone planning on using this room again would have left something behind to start a fire. Or left some clean linens for the bed. She opened the single oak trunk in the room, but it was empty. No, there didn’t seem to be signs that whoever had used this room might return. She and Einar should be safe enough here.
With a little sigh, she flipped the mattress over, exposing a dust-free side that was in decent shape, better than she’d expected. Then she sat and waited for Einar.
He didn’t leave her alone for long. He filled the doorway when he did join her, his large, muscled frame a paler darkness. Ambient light from both the waning moon and a single working gas lamp gave the room some illumination, but not enough to see his facial expression clearly as he hovered in the shadows.
“Did an owl come?”
He made a noise that sounded like a short, broken laugh. “Of course. They’re always happy to answer my requests.”
“How do you send messages without anything to write with?” She knew he could do this. He’d done it before. But she’d never asked how he managed. For every other elf, the owls would deliver written notes. Only Einar could deliver a verbal one.
He came into the room, hesitating a few feet from the bed. There was nowhere else to sit, and his hovering rubbed irritatingly against her nerves.
“Sit down, Einar. I won’t attack you. We can be in each other’s company for a few minutes without succumbing to the Shaerta.”
Still reluctant, he finally settled on the opposite end of the bed.
“Now. How do you send verbal messages with the owls? I’ve always wondered and been afraid to ask.”
He tilted his head to one side. “You afraid? I find that hard to believe.”
“You’re avoiding the question.”
“The owls can deliver my verbal messages to the king. He’s the only other elf who can understand, though he does so in a different manner than I do. He…sees the messages, almost like pictures, from the owl’s mind.”
“And you? Can you receive verbal messages?” Before he could answer, she let out a half laugh. “But of course you wouldn’t know, as the owls won’t carry verbal messages from other elves.”
“They bring me news that was spoken within their hearing.”
She focused on him more fully. “What?”
“While collecting written messages, if they glean information they feel I should know, they tell me. I understand their…language is the only way to describe it. When they speak, I know what they’re saying.”
“Unlike the king.”
“Different from the king.”
“What did you ask His Majesty to do?”
“To inform your cousin that we need safe passage from Noman’s Land. Once he has a safe way for us to enter Sinnale territory, he can relay that information through the king via the owls.”
She released a small breath and smiled. “Ulric. Very clever. Trusted by the humans now. And will recognize us both on sight.”
“He’ll arrange the proper security so the Sorcerers don’t try to infiltrate their territory by pretending to be you and me.”
“I hadn’t thought of that.” She straightened her shoulders. “A further complication to us just waltzing into Sinnale territory.”
“Yes.”
“Do they have something or someone who can see through illusion spells?”
“Likely Ulric will impose on the queen. She’s the only one of sufficient skill to ensure we’re who we say we are.”
“Won’t that be dangerous for her? If the Sorcerers came after me, surely they’ll want the queen when they get word of her coming into Sinnale.”
Though the king and queen had both entered the city on several occasions while the elves were technically neutral in the war, they had remained safe in Glengowyn once their support of the Sinnale was made official.
Since Einar was the bodyguard to the royal couple, she was certain he would find the plan too risky. He surprised her by smiling. A full-blown, all-out grin.
“Her Majesty has ways of getting around that most elves are unaware of. She’s very purposefully kept a few of her skills a secret. Getting in and out of Sinnale is not as difficult for her as it is for most.”
Nuala widened her eyes in surprise. The king and queen had reigned for centuries, so long she’d thought all their magics must have been revealed. Apparently, she was wrong.
“So. We’ll see the queen when we finally reach safety.”
“I would assume so.”
She took in the implications of that for a long moment.
“What are you thinking?” he asked, his voice quiet.
How to tell him? They’d been avoiding this for two hundred years.
Instead of a direct approach, she said, “Why do you think they risk…us on this mission? Together?”
“You’re highly valuable to Glengowyn. Who else would they trust with your safety?”
“Ulric.”
He dipped his head to the side, a half nod, half shrug. “He would have made an excellent guard. But he’s too well known among the Sorcerers now. It was felt his presence would call too much attention to your…importance.”
“Many of the traitor elves know you too. Even if they didn’t recognize me, seeing the Darkness of Glengowyn would reveal my importance.” She wanted to sneer the word but kept that reaction to herself. She accepted her position in Glengowyn society, but centuries of the overprotective efforts of the royal couple had left her weary.
She watched Einar carefully as he faced the wall. The soft rise and fall of his chest drew her gaze to the thick muscles. She remembered well how those muscles felt under her hands, pressing against her naked breasts. The weight of him as he covered her. His scent filled her. Mixed with dust and sweat was t
hat distinct spicy musk that was Einar’s alone. She’d never met elf or human whose scent called to her the way his did. Unable to resist, she took another deep breath.
Her movements attracted his gaze. Even with him sitting so close, she couldn’t read anything in his dark eyes. But she felt the Shaerta tickling her skin. His reaction or hers, she couldn’t tell. Maybe both. The fire was rising, though. Too much longer on this bed, in this quiet, isolated room, would leave her defenseless to him.
“No one knew I would join the group,” he said into the silence. “Only the king, queen and Ulric. The traitors wouldn’t have expected me to leave the sovereigns’ side. That gave us an advantage. And while many elves think they know what I look like, most have never looked close enough to recognize me out of context.”
She wondered if that was true. Byral hadn’t recognized him and Byral had been to Court at least a few times. Maybe fear of the Darkness really did keep the others from looking too closely. She couldn’t imagine not looking at Einar or knowing every detail of his face. The brush of short hair against his collar and the sharp points of his ears just peeking past the dark, thick waves, the ever-so-slight tilt of his eyes, the firm set of his mouth and solid angle of his jaw. Every detail etched into her heart for centuries.
She blinked and dragged her thoughts back to the conversation. “The traitors did expect me, though,” she said. “They knew I was there. They came for me specifically. It wouldn’t have mattered if Ulric was with me or not.”
“We know that now. They’ve probably been watching all the caravans, waiting for you to appear. When the plans were made, however, it was thought best to draw as little attention to you as possible while providing you with the highest level of security.”
“You.”
“Me.”
“Did they…” She swallowed as she found herself leaning toward him without meaning to. “Didn’t they worry about the Shaerta?”
He held perfectly still, not moving closer. Her own weakening will kept her edging across the bed, very slightly, toward him.
“They trusted you to uphold their decree.”
“Not you?” That surprised her. He’d been as disciplined at avoiding her as she’d been at avoiding him. Maybe more so. He’d never once shown signs of the weakness she often felt when it came to him.
He didn’t answer. Instead, he stood and paced to the opposite side of the room. Then he headed for the door. “I need to check on the skirmishes. I’ll be back soon.”
He left without a backward glance. Nuala sighed. She removed her bow and quiver and set them beside her on the bed, then leaned on the headboard. Again his willpower managed to stay strong where hers faltered.
What did she expect? They’d see the queen soon enough. Giving in to the Shaerta wasn’t an option. While they might be able to get away with a single encounter after all these years, she knew one night with Einar would never be enough. Succumbing to her desires once would make it impossible for her to deny them anymore. Making love to Einar again would ruin her.
Yet, somehow that ruin no longer seemed so bad.
With a groan, she stretched out on the bed to await his return, trying to remind herself why she’d heeded the queen and king’s edict in the first place. To ignore their order would lead to banishment for both her and Einar. After so long, that punishment didn’t scare her as much. But Einar… She couldn’t do that to him. She was sure he wouldn’t risk it. Why else had he left the room? He was right. She knew he was. Her value was significant. Banishment would be disastrous for everyone.
But oh how she wanted him to throw caution to the wind, stalk into the room, strip her naked and fuck her like nothing else in the world mattered.
A dream, she knew. But a pleasant one that carried her into a light doze as she waited.
Chapter Six
Einar woke her with a gentle touch on her shoulder. Dawn’s light peeked in through the single window, just enough to see his face clearly.
“Danger?” she asked, half sitting.
“No. We’re safe. The fighting moved through Noman’s Land most of the night, but the skirmishes shifted toward the Sorcerers’ territory and away from us.”
“How…?”
He lifted his lips, an almost smile. “The owls.”
“Ah. Of course. So…” She sat up completely and looked around the room. Einar straightened and took a few steps back from the bed. “So now what?” she asked. “We wait here?”
“We’ll need food and water soon. But for the day, this location should be safe enough.”
“I can go without food and water for a bit longer if necessary.”
His expression took on a faraway, thoughtful look. “I know. I remember.”
She remembered too. The last goblin war had been even harder on them all than the first. In the heat of battle, as she worked frantically to provide enough of her special arrows, she’d often gone for days with only a minimum of food and water. Usually what she got came from Einar’s own hands.
“We’ll be stronger for any fighting or fleeing if we eat,” he said finally.
“There won’t be much to find. Not here.”
“I’ve already taken care of it.”
“The owls again?”
“Yes.”
“Very handy, those birds. When they do as you ask.”
“It’s because I ask nicely.”
She snorted. “Of course.”
Stretching her arms forward, she loosened her back and shoulder muscles. Then she went to look out the window, carefully standing to one side so she couldn’t be spotted from the street.
“No patrols yet this morning?” She kept her face turned away from him as she studied the chunk of city she could see.
“No patrols. From either side. After the fighting, things will likely be quiet for a few hours, at least. Especially since the humans won.”
“Did they? I’m glad.”
“They drove the minions back behind their own lines. The minions weren’t prepared for a full battle.”
“The Sinnale are stronger now too. With our help.”
Nothing moved on the cobbles below. Not even bits of rubbish blew down the empty alleys and courtyards. The morning air was still and quiet, casting a pink glow that softened the battered buildings and hid the neglect and damage. In that light, she could almost see the city as it had been before the war, a century ago when she’d last been here.
“I’m sorry I can’t provide enough water for washing,” Einar murmured. “The owls couldn’t risk bringing in items too large. Or too many of them flying to the same place. That would give us away.”
“It’s not a problem. I realize I probably stink.” She grinned over her shoulder. “But I can stand it for another day if you can.”
The thought of the owls being tracked had her turning to face him fully. “Will they be able to get any supplies to us without attracting attention? Especially in the daytime when they shouldn’t really be about except for passing messages. Some lookout somewhere will spot them.”
“They can fly low when needs be, avoiding too much attention. But only if there are no more than two or three. More would attract notice.”
“Again, I can go without food or water. I wouldn’t want to see one of them hurt.”
He tilted his head to one side. “I wouldn’t risk them unnecessarily.”
“I know. I meant… Maybe my comfort isn’t necessary enough for their risk.”
“Your comfort isn’t my concern. Your strength and ability to escape danger is.”
How could she argue with that? She looked out the window again, not sure what else to say. Searching for a topic, she recalled one of the questions she’d never broached yesterday. “I forgot until now, but…the Sorcerer who was part of the caravan attack? You said he was never real. What did you mean? I could smell the death stench surrounding him. Even the horses reacted to him.”
“He was a…projection the king calls it. Difficult and draining magic when
so much detail is incorporated. But useful. They send their essence, their spirit, away from their bodies to whatever location they choose, but they aren’t there in a form that can be attacked or killed. Their bodies remain safe, probably inside the citadel or their own strongholds. Somewhere within range of the projection location. Ulric noticed them using this technique during the most recent battles with the Sinnale. The Sorcerers can direct efforts and watch the movements of the humans without having to endanger themselves by being physically present during the fight.”
“Can these projections cast spells?”
“No. They’re limited to observation. That’s how I knew the Sorcerer at the caravan attack wasn’t real.”
Ah. Now she understood. “He would have used magic to stop our escape if he’d been real.”
She glanced back at Einar in time to see him nod.
“You said the magic for projection was draining?”
“Very costly to their power stores.”
“Then they are weakening by using this spell?”
“Or using up more of their captives toward their magic.”
Her shoulders jerked in a shiver she couldn’t control. The poor humans. It was no wonder Ulric had been so vocal about bringing Glengowyn into this war. The woman he loved could have been taken and used that way. Nuala couldn’t imagine much worse than knowing Einar had been tortured and killed to feed the evil of death magic. Realizing that it could still happen if they didn’t reach Sinnale territory safely closed her throat.
She turned back to the window so he wouldn’t see her sudden jolt of fear.
As she studied the city and tried not to feel the pull toward Einar that was beyond her control, she began plucking pins from her hair. The tight, battle-ready bun at the base of her head had finally come loose, and the escaped tendrils were scratching her neck. She didn’t wear her hair this tightly bound often, so her scalp was sore. She set the pins on the windowsill and unwound the bun, leaving the golden-brown braid to fall down her back. She didn’t have a brush, and wouldn’t have water to rise out the sweat and dust, but even a finger comb would relieve some of the pressure on her scalp.