by Isabo Kelly
“She won’t eat while working,” Einar said. “But make sure there’s water for her.”
Layla left to get the water. Nuala stared at Einar for several moments, knowing he was thinking the same thing she was—could she do what was necessary anymore? Could she work the spell, the special magic only she’d ever been able to wield, and turn these arrows into bombs?
Ulric clapped Einar on the back of the shoulder, breaking into their silence. “Come. We’ll leave my cousin to her work and you and I can discuss some security issues.”
Though he went reluctantly, Einar allowed Ulric to lead him out. A moment later, a pitcher of fresh water and a glass were delivered and left on the table. Then Nuala was alone.
Chapter Twelve
Nuala stared at the hollowed-out arrow shafts, and for the first time since discovering this spell, knew real trepidation. She settled herself on the bench, took up the first hollow shaft and dropped in some shrapnel, filling it completely from the closed base where it had already been properly fletched, all the way to the tip where she inserted the point.
As she wrapped securing leather around the arrowhead, she closed her eyes and began the spell, sending power through her body, molding it into the song of enchantment and death that was the weapon. A quiet, mumbling swing of words fell from her lips to swirl around the arrow, infusing and setting it.
But as she worked, the song felt…different. A word, here or there, came out wrong and yet fit perfectly into what she was singing. The tone of certain notes changed, by a flat or sharp, a whole octave deeper or higher. Yet the rhythm felt powerful, the pour of magic through her body flowed easily. It didn’t fight the changes in the spell. In fact, the new twists of magic she accessed grew stronger as she chanted, hinting at the final shape without revealing it, bringing a certainty of purpose and strength both different and familiar.
She could almost feel the influence of Einar’s magic mingling with her own, turning into its own creation. That it mixed so easily, so well, so perfectly was both surprising and somehow expected. Yet, even as she sang, as she formed the spell and poured power into it, she had no idea what she was really creating. Still a weapon. Maybe even more powerful than her previous spell. But with a difference she couldn’t understand. Something more…personal. Something more precise…
When her music faded and she returned from the sensory realms of working the magic back to a more physical state, she stared down at the finished arrow in her hands. A faint golden glow faded as she watched. And then the arrow looked like any other.
What had she done? What would this new creation do?
She set the enigma aside, selected a second arrow shaft and attempted to set it with the original spell. This time, her power flowed in the old ways, lacking the changeable influence of Einar’s magic. When she was done, she’d created one of the original weapons she was here to set. Again she went to the arrow shafts, again the magic bowed to the original intention of the spell. But after another five arrows, the magic bent again, and Nuala made another of the strange anomalous arrows.
Late into the night she worked, remembering to drink only when she felt faint. Her body faded away with each spell-casting, so that she only noticed discomfort for brief minutes between the magics. In those moments, she felt the growing exhaustion that would eventually force her to stop and sleep, but she ignored both the physical and magical depletion to continue working.
When she could no longer concentrate enough to properly form either of the spells, she took stock of her work.
To one side lay almost a hundred of the new type of arrows. To the other, three times that many of her originally spelled weapons. She let out a breath and selected one of the new, studying it, feeling the magic within. She closed her eyes and opened her sense, trying to discern how the new arrow might work, but the solution eluded her. With her original arrows, she’d known as she made them what they would become. This time, the outcome was a mystery.
How could she give these to the Sinnale when she didn’t even know what they did? Would they even fly with all the shrapnel inside them, given the changes in the spell? So many uncertainties. And no opportunity to test any possible theory. The human council expected what they’d ordered, what they’d fairly traded for.
Now what?
She set the arrow back in its pile and gulped down the remaining water, not surprised to find her throat so dry it had tightened up. She moved to the cot Layla had provided in one dark corner of the room, curled onto her side, and was asleep instantly.
Though there were windows in the room, she found it impossible to tell how long she’d slept after she returned to consciousness. It was still dark out, so she could have slept for a quarter hour, several hours, even a full day into the next night. Sitting up, she noticed a basin of clean washing water had been brought into the room. The water pitcher was filled again, and there was a small plate of cheese and nuts on the table beside the water.
The idea of food made her stomach roll in disgust, but the water sounded like joy. Once she’d sated her thirst, took care of bodily functions, and paced a few times around the room to loosen up muscles, she returned to setting arrows.
When exhaustion took her again, it was full sunlight, though she still wasn’t sure what time. No timer chimes sounded through the city. No time device of any kind was left in the large room. As she worked, time lost meaning anyway, and she stopped only long enough to nap again, then returned to the arrows.
The sun was down, the room shadowed in the corners where the light from the hanging gas lamp refused to go, by the time she’d worked her way through most of the empty arrow shafts.
Einar quietly entered the room sometime during her working. But he remained as unobtrusive and invisible as only a well-trained bodyguard could. Even Nuala only barely noted his presence, and she was overly aware of him.
She let the last song fade away and placed the arrow she’d been working on the pile with the new arrows. The two piles had remained a three-to-one ratio of traditional to new. And she still had no idea what the newest arrows did.
The rest of the water in the pitcher wetted her dry throat before she finally turned to face Einar.
He didn’t even have to question her aloud. She could see his concern and curiosity in the slight raise of his brows.
“These—” she pointed to the larger of the two piles, “—are the arrows I’m here to produce. These others are new.”
“What do the new ones do?”
“I have no idea,” she admitted. “They’re different, a product of our melding. But…I have no idea what they’re capable of.”
He stared at the smaller pile. “What will you tell Ulric, the human council?”
She stood and stretched, letting her spine pop as she worked out the kinks of sitting for so long. “Ulric…Ulric knows we’ve bonded. He can sense the change.”
Einar nodded.
“I’m hoping to persuade him to let me test one or two of these before allowing the humans to use any of them. I don’t want to be responsible for any Sinnale deaths because the weapon backfires.”
“Reasonable. And you’ve managed to produce the arrows they traded for—at least a good number of them came out correctly. That bodes well.”
“Maybe.” Though she wasn’t sure what to make of this mixing of abilities from one moment to the next. “I hope it will be enough to satisfy them until we can figure out what these others do.”
“Ulric will make sure it is. Now, you need food.”
She blinked. Her mind had been on the rhythm and words of the new spell as she tried to analyze them for a possible explanation. Einar’s reminder that she needed to eat made her stomach growl.
“I guess I do need food.” She chuckled and left the arrows to join him in his position next to the door. “How long have you been keeping vigil there?”
“Inside the room? Not long. I didn’t want to distract you.”
His expression remained neutral, but she didn’t miss his careful
phrasing. “Inside the room not long. How long did you watch over me from outside the room?”
“I’ve been here all along. I couldn’t leave you alone and vulnerable in a strange place. Even if we are surrounded by allies.”
He spoke as if she should have known better and her question baffled him. She should have known better. How else would Einar think?
“Come, Ulric has food prepared and waiting in a more comfortable setting.”
Without touching her, he led her back down the corridor. The lack of physical contact was exactly what she needed. After working so much magic, her skin was always overly sensitive, and a simple touch often hurt. Einar had always understood this, better than anyone else.
As she thought back on their years of friendship and loving, she realized he always did what was right and best for her—or at least what he thought was best.
The room he led her to was small but comfortably set with a long table and benches. The table itself was covered with more cheese, dried fruits and some fresh bread.
Layla looked up from setting out plates and greeted them with a smile. “I hope it will be enough. The war has been difficult on our food stores, but we’ve been doing better lately. We don’t have much fresh meat, but there is some dried meat available if you require it.”
Nuala waved that off. “I don’t need meat. Simple foods are best.”
They settled around the table and everyone quietly filled a plate. Einar watched her take her first few bites before taking any himself.
“I’m sorry there’s no wine,” Layla said into the silence. “There’s very little left in the city. It will be several years before we can start producing again.”
“Water is better for me now.” Nuala sighed. “But I will miss Sinnale wine. I have for the last few years. Your grapes always seem to produce more interesting flavors than ours.”
Layla smiled. “One of the things my parents got the best use out of when trading for weapons. Sinnale wine.”
She stared at Nuala for several moments and Nuala held her gaze, wondering at the considering look. She was used to a distant kind of reverence from her own people. In years past, humans had dealt with her with a kind of awe, but many humans approached the Glengowyn elves that way. She was one of many to them, not considered unique the way she was among her own people.
Now, though, Layla and a handful of other humans knew she was special. Different. She had a feeling she was about to find out how that knowledge would affect their attitudes toward her going forward.
Layla’s question, when she finally spoke, surprised Nuala, however.
“Why did you have to come here? That was never made clear in the negotiations with the queen. Despite being willing to trade your special arrows with us to help end the war, she was vague when it came to you.”
Nuala shrugged and swallowed her food. “The queen and king are both very protective of me.”
“Yes. Which is why I’m surprised they would send you into a war zone.”
“Oh, this isn’t the first time I’ve been in a war zone. I developed these arrows for the second goblin war.”
“They helped us end that war relatively quickly,” Ulric added.
“Not quickly enough,” she said, looking at her cousin.
He held her gaze, his expression full of understanding. No one who’d been part of those battles had escaped without scars.
“But to answer your question…” She faced Layla again. “I have to…set the arrows close to the point at which they’ll be used. They travel in quivers fine over short distances and so long as there aren’t too many in a single quiver. They can be packed with our other spelled arrows for even more secure travel—though I would recommend keeping the fire-tips and my arrows separate. But they can’t be stacked in large numbers and carted over long distances, already assembled and spelled. The movement, time and quantity together trigger the spell.”
“They explode without being fired,” Ulric said. “We learned that the hard way.”
Nuala glanced down at her plate. That was one of her scars from the war, a mistake that had cost several strong warrior elves their lives. Einar shifted minutely closer to her, still not touching—not enough time had elapsed for her skin and nerves to have settled—but enough to make his comforting presence felt. She released the tension with a breath and looked up.
“After the…accident. We knew the arrows had to be transported in individual parts, and I’d have to be camped near the battles to be able to set them.”
“So, you went into the war,” Layla said.
“I went into the war.” Nuala blinked back more memories. “After, the queen in particular but both the sovereigns knew that not only were these weapons something too dangerous to share with outsiders, they were too unstable to trade easily. They also never wanted to risk me being kidnapped or held captive by someone we traded with after I was sent in to set the arrows.”
“That’s why Nuala hasn’t come into Sinnale in a century,” Ulric said. “Their protectiveness of her has gotten worse over the years.”
Einar grunted, a surprising sound that drew all their gazes. He didn’t look up from his plate, just ignored their attention, so they returned to their conversation.
“So,” Layla said, “once the traitor elves defected and it became clear this war was coming to Glengowyn if they did nothing, like it or not, they decided to risk you by trading these arrows with us.”
“In their way.” She dipped her head toward Einar. “They sent me with their most feared personal bodyguard. They did try to minimize the risk.”
“The traitors knew who you were though. They guessed you’d come eventually.”
Einar grunted again. This time he did speak. “They were likely watching for her, keeping at least one or two of the traitors with each group of minions sent to attack the caravans.”
Nuala pursed her lips. “There was no way around my coming here. For your people to have these arrows, to end this war faster, it was necessary for me to come.”
“I’m glad they allowed it,” Layla said. “We’re stronger now, with the reintroduction of the elven weaponry. But the war is dragging on. The Sorcerers continue to capture our people and use them or turn them into minions. We need to drive them out.”
“The information Althir provides?”
“Very helpful. We’ve been able to engage them beyond their own border for the first time since the border was set. We know where their vulnerable spots are, even the location of their individual strongholds outside the main citadel, all the places we’ll have to destroy to drive them out. But we haven’t been able to break through their defenses thoroughly enough to move far enough into their territory to end things.”
Nuala caught Ulric’s gaze as she said, “Some of the arrows…didn’t turn out as they should have. It happens sometimes.” She lied and made sure Ulric knew it. “I’ll need to run a few tests on the different ones before they’re allowed into a battle. In the meantime, the ones provided combined with our ordinary arrows and the fire-tips should be sufficient to aid in an offensive.”
Ulric nodded in understanding, his gaze darting to Einar and then to Layla. Layla didn’t comment but her eyes narrowed.
She was smart, Ulric’s mate. She knew something wasn’t exactly right with what Nuala had said, but she kept that knowledge to herself and outwardly accepted the story.
“I’ll be sure the arms marshal knows which arrows are not ready to be used,” she said.
Nuala felt tension she’d only barely been aware of uncurl. Until she could figure out what the new arrows did, she did not want to risk another accident. She’d never forgive herself if some of the Sinnale were killed because of her, the way her own people had died before she knew more about her shrapnel arrows. She would not make that mistake again.
Chapter Thirteen
The Sinnale had already started planning another offensive before Nuala and her arrows entered the city, with the new weapons at the core of thei
r plans. Once Nuala and Einar had arrived, the human council finalized their strategy and began organizing their people.
Nuala spent the next day and a half in the armory. While trying to unravel the purpose of the new arrows, she also ensured they weren’t inadvertently added to the weaponry the humans planned to use for the coming battle. Unfortunately, the ultimate results of the spell continued to elude her.
“This has never happened before,” she complained to Einar after the first day. “How can I not know what magic I’ve wrought?”
“You’ve never dealt with blended magics before,” he assured her, remaining a calming presence beside her the entire time. “You’ll understand soon.”
But when another half day passed with her at a loss, Einar insisted she leave the armory to rest. “Ulric will make sure none of these make it into the battle preparations. You won’t find answers if you’re too exhausted to think.”
She didn’t want to stop but knew he was right. If she didn’t sleep properly, she might even miss the answer right in front of her.
They hadn’t had much time alone since she started her work in the armory. Between the exertions of her magic and the time spent trying to unravel the spell she’d placed on the new arrows, she’d never stopped to wonder how their bonding had affected his magic. Or him.
Without argument or even the need for words, he followed her into her room. As soon as she shut the door, he gathered her close and kissed her. The kiss was gentle, not demanding, but she felt his longing in the tightness of his muscles. She sighed into the sensations and gave herself over to his kiss, returning it with equal tenderness.
“I’ve missed this,” he murmured. “Only a few days, and I’ve missed kissing you. I won’t be able to go back to how things were between us.”
“Me neither.” She eased back enough to look at him directly. “I have no intention of going back, either. But…”
He stiffened. “But?”
“We haven’t stopped to consider how this has affected your magic. Until now, everyone’s been more concerned with what might happen to my skills. I haven’t stopped to think what this might have done to you.”