by E. A. Copen
“What is it?” I asked.
Dex pointed off to the right. The wagon was there, hidden under a pile of branches.
I squatted beside him. “Okay, so what’s the plan?”
“These are elven lands.” He spoke in a reverent whisper. “We shouldn’t be here.”
I gave the place a second glace. It didn’t look like any elves had been there in a long time. Then again, I had no idea what an elvish settlement would look like. Like most humans, I had never seen an elf. Many believed they were just a myth made up to scare people away from deep forests, but I’d always thought there were too many stories for them to be completely false.
I leaned around the statues for a better look. “We don’t really have much of a choice. If the heretics are here, then that’s where we go.”
“We’re going to have to get closer to see.”
I nodded.
We crept forward, keeping as low to the ground as possible. I put my hand on my sword. As we closed on the broken wall, Dex carefully slid on his gloves.
A loud voice boomed out of the destroyed building. “… For the covenant demands we drink of the blood and eat of the flesh of the gods so that, one day, his prophet will rise. And the non-believers will cower in his presence, crying out in awe at his wondrous works.”
We reached the building and crowded a small crack in the wall to see through. Zia was there, chained to an old iron cross. Heretics had gathered around her on their knees with their hands folded as if in prayer before her. And not just the ones who’d attacked us earlier in the day. There were women and children among them, all of them deformed by the crystals growing in their blood.
A man walked down the line of gathered heretics with a silver chalice. Actually, he might’ve been more magicite than man. An enormous lump of green crystal protruded from his left shoulder, making him walk lopsided. Another group of crystals grew out of his eye sockets, leaving him blind. Yet he didn’t seem to have any trouble finding his way. Scraps of white clothing hung from his body, which was covered in knotted, scarred skin. He offered the cup to each of the heretics, who took a sip before handing it back. Armed guards lined the walls, looking on.
Zia struggled against her chains.
“What are we going to do?” I asked Dex in the quietest whisper.
There was no way we’d be able to take on everyone in there, but we had to get to Zia before they did anything to her.
The heretic priest limped from the line of worshippers to where Zia stood, strapped to the cross. “I say to you, any woman who drinks the blood will be purified. Through death or transformation, I say this is the day you will meet your maker.” He shoved the cup at her face.
She turned her head away, refusing. A guard stepped away from the wall, grabbed her head, pinched her nose, and forced her jaw open. The priest poured a glowing crimson liquid into Zia’s mouth while the guard held it closed.
The moment the guard let go of her jaw, Zia spat the tainted liquid back at the priest. “Fuck you.”
One worshipper rose to offer the priest a dirty scrap of cloth to clean his face.
He took it, mopping up the liquid. “You reject salvation?”
“I’d rather die than drink your disgusting blood,” Zia snarled, and fought against her imprisonment.
“Then you are not yet penitent. And yet the gods speak to me. You have been chosen. One doesn’t have to be willing to bear the fruit of the gods.” The priest gestured to the guards who came forward and lifted the entire cross out of the pedestal on the ground. And Zia with it. “Take her.”
Zia fought, screamed, and cursed as they carried her away.
While the deformed priest turned back to his congregation, I crept around the side of the broken church, clinging to the shadows. A pair of massive wooden doors swung open, and the guards carried Zia out. I pressed my back firmly against the stone wall and held my breath, watching. Think invisible thoughts.
They carried her down a small hill and into another dilapidated building leaning to one side. I exchanged a look with Dex. We could take out two guards easily enough. Then we just had to free Zia, grab the wagon, and ride back. We could meet up with the main group by sunrise.
Dex nodded and removed his sunglasses, clipping them to his shirt.
We crept along the hill, watching the broken church and the dilapidated building both, but no one came out of either. The building where they’d taken Zia was a long, shotgun-style house that had once been two stories high. The top floor seemed to have been ripped off and tossed carelessly into a shallow lake nearby, leaving the upper floors exposed. The elements had rotted all the exposed carpeting and what few bits of furniture remained. Wind blew through the open stairway, almost sounding like a scream.
One guard stood just inside the front entrance, but I couldn’t see the other. Charging them from the front porch would be stupid, especially since we didn’t know where the other guard was. He could run off and sound the alarm and we’d have the entire camp on us.
Carefully, we changed positions so that we could see if there was a way in through the back. There was a door and two windows, but all three appeared boarded shut.
Dex and I sank into the shadows behind a large boulder.
“Okay,” he said, “I think the best way in is going to be through the second story.”
“I don’t see anywhere to climb up except the old drain pipe, and that’ll be too noisy.”
“There are plenty of places. Just follow me and stay quiet.”
I tried to tell him to wait, that we needed more of a plan than how to get into the house, but Dex pushed himself out from behind the rock and tiptoed to the nearest side of the house.
The old vinyl siding had mostly fallen off, and most of the silver insulation was gone. They had put a few boards up to keep out the worst of the weather. Dex grabbed some invisible handhold and hauled himself up with ease. I tried to mimic his movements and use the same handholds, but I was much slower. Dex pulled himself through a hole in the wall and stood on the second floor while I was still only about halfway up.
“Uh… Hey, Ember?” he called down.
“Just a sec. Almost there.” I grunted and pulled myself up. No sooner had I stood up than I found a blade at my neck.
The second heretic guard, along with another we hadn’t even known was there, were waiting for us.
I raised my hands in surrender, scowling at Dex. “Brilliant plan, Dex.”
Something hard struck the back of my head, and everything was suddenly black.
***
I woke to drumming and a rhythmic throbbing in my skull. Every mallet strike echoed inside my head, a ripple of pain. I winced and opened my eyes. Flame danced in my vision and strange, crystalline people danced around the fire, spinning and singing in deep, throaty voices.
“What the hell?” I blinked, trying to make sense of what I was seeing.
“Oh, you’re awake, are you?”
I turned my head at the sound of Dex’s voice next to me. “Dex? What happened?” I tried to lift my hand to my head, but found it tied behind my back. When I found out I was tied up, I turned my head to Dex for an explanation, but my words caught in my throat. It was the first time I had ever seen him without that stupid cowboy hat on. At first, the pointed ears sticking up out of his shaggy hair seemed fake, but why would he have fake ears? “Dex, your ears.”
“What? You didn’t think I wore a hat for the fashion?” He shrugged.
“You idiots are the worst rescuers ever,” Zia said on the other side of me. Her hair was disheveled and there was a line of dried blood on her forehead, but she otherwise looked okay.
“I find that hard to believe,” quipped Dex. “Technically, this is no longer a rescue mission. The only question left is how we’re going to die.”
“Does it matter?” Zia growled.
“Actually, yes. If they toss us in the fire, it’ll be unfortunate for the two of you, but I stand a chance. Of course, that depends on
how hot it is and if I can still work magic through the pain of being burned alive.”
“Silence!” The heretic priest waved a feathered staff in front of our faces. Tiny misshapen skulls rattled on the end, hidden inside the feathers. The drumming stopped suddenly as the priest turned his back to us and lifted his staff. “We have gathered here tonight to witness the purification and transfiguration of these blasphemers, that they may be remade in the image of our lord.”
A cheer went up from the crowd.
I exchanged a worried look with Dex.
He winced and tried to twist his hands free to no avail. “This doesn’t sound good.”
The priest held up his staff again, and the crowd fell silent. “Blessed is he who bows before the ashen throne!”
“May the prophet show us the way,” the crowd responded in a monotone.
“Blessed is he who looks upon the Black City! Tremble before its power. We are but ants before him. It is our honor to be called into service that we may convert the non-believers, turning them to his loving embrace.” The priest lifted the same chalice he’d used earlier, placed it upon a flat rock, and held his hand over it. A curved black blade shimmered in the firelight as he drew it over his palm. Blood flowed from his fist into the chalice, tainted blood to which he added a pinch of ground magicite, just to be sure.
One drop of the tainted blood and Dex or Zia would be just as infected as me. I, however, would be immune, at least to the effects of the magicite. Who knew what other diseases the priest’s blood might carry? The idea of swallowing it made my stomach churn.
The priest lifted the chalice and approached me, the crystals in his eye sockets shimmering. “Will you accept salvation, sister?”
“Get away from me!”
“Hold her.”
Heavy hands gripped my jaw and pinched my nose. Rough, calloused fingers wrenched my jaw open and held it. The priest lifted the chalice to my mouth. I gagged on the putrid smell of blood and magic as he tilted the chalice up.
A flaming arrow suddenly sailed out of the shadows and pierced the priest in the neck. He opened his mouth, spitting blood onto my face, before tumbling to one side and lying still in a spreading puddle of his own blood.
The heretics drew their weapons and turned to face the new threat, but they were met with a hail of flaming arrows. They lit up the sky like angry stars for a moment before falling, each one finding a mark.
I flinched away from one that pierced the corpse at my feet. Miraculously, none of the arrows struck us.
Those heretics who survived the initial attack rose with torches and blades to rush whatever lie in wait for them at the edge of camp. I squinted into the darkness, trying to see, but the shadows were too deep. The only thing to come out of the shadows were the pained screams of the dying heretics as whatever was out there tore them apart. If I strained, I could pick out the flash of something silver, the spray of blood as it sliced a heretic from stomach to chin in one move.
Genuine terror churned in the pit of my stomach. “What are they?”
“Elves,” Dex breathed.
“I thought elves were supposed to be beautiful and graceful,” Zia whispered.
“The same is true of venomous spiders and snakes.” Dex struggled against the ropes that held him. “We need to get out of here. Now.” He closed his eyes and let out a breath. A long tendril of flame shot out of the fire before us, curling around to set his ropes aflame. With a grunt, he pulled his hands free of the burning rope. As soon as he untied me, a blade lowered against his throat.
I felt the same bite of steel pressed against my neck and chanced a look at the creature holding the delicate sword to my throat. He stood taller than the tallest man I had ever seen, his face hidden behind a helm of the same gleaming blue steel as my sword. Glowing, ice-blue eyes stared at me, as immovable as a mountain.
Dex slowly raised his hands in surrender. “We’re unarmed.”
“You’ve still got both your arms as far as I can see.” Another elf strode out of the darkness. He removed his helmet and handed it to the slightly shorter elf at his side. In the right light, he might’ve been mistaken for a human, but only if one didn’t look closely. While the elf’s features resembled a human’s, they were slightly off in every way. His cheek bones were sharper, more pronounced, and his eyes an unnatural shade of purple made brighter by the dark war paint streaked over his face. Sharp ears, pointed like a lynx’s, rose through platinum hair. Bloodstains colored his white armor. He gripped a sword with a pearl hilt.
Dex seemed to relax a little, letting his hands fall slightly. “Savidad, Laseran.”
The elf seemed unimpressed. “Your Elvish is almost as bad as your stench, pherlon.”
Dex’s hands shot back up as the sword to his throat shifted. “Come on, Laseran. You’re not going to kill us.”
“I could. You are trespassing, after all. The Telmara made it very clear that you were not welcome.” The elf looked us over, his eyes hard and sharp. They seemed to peer beneath my skin, leaving me chilled under his gaze.
“I didn’t come here on purpose,” Dex ground out, leaning away from the blade.
“We only came to retrieve our friend, who the heretics kidnapped,” I nodded to Zia. “Let us go and we’ll be on our way.”
Laseran narrowed his eyes at me, scrutinizing. After a long moment, he gestured to another elf, who cut Zia free.
The ropes holding me in place tightened before releasing. I stepped away from the tree they had tied me to, rubbing the rope burn on my wrists and eying the elf behind me as he put his knife away.
Zia stumbled forward a few steps before falling to her knees. She looked up at me, her eyes unfocused, and wrapped her arms around her stomach before vomiting loudly.
The elves near her took a step back.
Laseran frowned. “It seems your friend is unwell. She drank from the chalice?”
“They made me,” Zia managed, and spat. She turned around and blinked. Tears of blood flowed from the corners of her eyes. She gasped once before she fell over, convulsing.
Dex shifted as if he would go to her side, but the blade kept him in place. “She doesn’t deserve this! Help her!”
“Why?” Leseran lifted his chin. “I’ve saved your worthless life and set you free. The only reason I did that much was because I was eager to see the heretic stain removed from this place. Consider yourself lucky to be leaving with your life. Be gone from this forest before dawn or I may change my mind.” He turned his back on us.
The sword moved away from Dex’s neck, and he went immediately to Zia’s side, touching her forehead with the back of his hand. “She has a fever. They’ve infected her. Leseran, I know it’s in your power to help! Don’t make me beg.”
The elf paused before slowly turning around, a dark smile touching his thin lips. “Actually, that might be quite convincing. Would you be willing to fall on your knees before me and beg for the life of your comrade? I might be swayed if your plea is moving enough.”
Dex ground his teeth. He stood, clenching his fists.
I put a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t play his game.”
He shrugged my hand off. “I have to. She’s innocent and doesn’t deserve to die because he wants to lord over me.” Dex walked over to stand in front of Leseran before dropping to his knees. “Please, Leseran, I beg you… Save Zia’s life.”
Leseran smirked. “Your elven blood must be more diluted than I thought. A son of the Telmara would never kneel to save a dhalethein.”
I suddenly spied my sword sitting in a pile of all our gear just a short distance away. I lunged for it, prompting the nearby elves to ready their blades. I brought my sword up and slid closer to Zia. “If you’re not going to help her, then back away!”
Leseran’s eyes widened. His nostrils flared. “That sword… It is an elven blade. Where did you get it?”
I gave Dex a worried glance, but he seemed just as confused as me. I shifted my grip on the sword and swallowed,
trying to project more confidence than I had. “Help her and I’ll tell you whatever it is you want to know about it.”
Leseran stepped forward. The blade of my sword made a small sound as it struck his breastplate. His eyebrow twitched. It was all the movement I saw before I was on the ground next to Dex, cradling my sore wrist. My sword was in the elf’s hand. Leseran had disarmed me so fast I didn’t even see him move.
He held the sword up into the night and watched the reflection of the heretic’s fire burn in the blade. “There is nothing you can tell me about this blade that I have not already heard. But what is a dhalethein doing with it? That story, I would very much like to hear.”
I swallowed. “I bought it from a dwarven blacksmith in Atlanta.” The blacksmith’s apprentice had told me it was cursed, and clearly Leseran knew more about it than I did, though he didn’t fear it like the dwarves.
“You purchased it?” He spat, eyes blazing. “Has our history become so forgotten that we trade it for mere coin?”
“Well, I didn’t exactly buy it. But I didn’t steal it either.”
Leseran lowered the sword, almost smirking at me. “Perhaps there’s more to you than meets the eye, dhalethein.” He nodded to his people. “Take the girl. Blindfold the others. The last thing we need is them leading more of their kind into our land.”
Chapter Twelve
The elves blindfolded us, put us on a horse, and led us into the night.
“Don’t get any ideas,” I said to Dex as his front leaned against my back.
He let out a huff of breath that tickled the back of my neck. “Who, me? Never.”
“Quiet,” Leseran spat. “The forest has well-trained ears, and you two are already loud enough as it is.” He clicked his tongue, and the horse started forward at a quick, but manageable pace.
I spent the first few minutes trying to discern our direction. We’d gone east from the convoy to find the heretic camp, and it seemed to me that Leseran’s people were headed north, almost parallel to our convoy, but I couldn’t be sure. Then the horse looped around a few times, and I lost my bearings completely.