“This way, idiot,” Quibell said, his voice harsh. Astrid rested her hands on her blades, weary of what lay on the other side of the doorway.
“Please,” she said, “ugliness before stupidity.”
The goblin grunted and shot into the shadowy room. “I’ve brought the girl, my Lord.”
“Yes, of course,” said Fryx. He sat with his short legs kicked up at a dark wooden desk. A wide candle burned deep inside cream-colored wax on the desk, casting long shadows on the wall. A familiar goblin sat beside the desk, his eyes squinted into an icy glare. “Come in, Astrid. Have a seat. We have much to discuss.”
Astrid slipped onto a nearby stool, her hands never leaving her blades.
“Lyell here has come on behalf of the governor of Limra requesting our assistance,” said Fryx, stroking his beard. “The storm outside seems to have something sinister controlling it. This presence has asked for an ambassador from Limra to discuss conditions of surrender.”
“That’s where you two come in,” said Lyell, his shriveled mouth twisting into a grin.
Fryx rolled his eyes and sighed. “Yes, I’m afraid we have no choice in the matter.”
“No choice?” Astrid shot up from her seat, sending it skittering across the cool sandstone. “This is really none of my business. I’m no diplomat. And I’m certainly no pawn.”
Fryx raised his gaze to meet Astrid’s. “I’m not giving you a choice. From what I hear, you’re in my debt. Or do you care to pay for the loss of my Phooka,” he said, wrath edging into his voice. “No? The decision has been made. Luka has agreed to accompany us—”
“—he what? That steaming pile of troll—”
“—I suggest you prepare for our departure in the morning,” Fryx said, cutting off Astrid’s tirade. “I have appropriate clothes and weapons waiting for you. Quibell will show you to your room.” The dwarve snapped his stubby fingers. Astrid found herself being swept away from the room by a snickering goblin.
“Idiot girl,” he said, dragging her down the hall. He threw open a door and shoved her inside into a group of bickering goblinesses.
“Ack! Look at this hair!”
“So full of mud! Even her eyes are made of mud!”
“These damned nomads! Such foul creatures—”
“—Quick! To the tub before she gets free!”
Astrid was submerged into a bubbling Hell. Suds rushed up her nose and stung in her lungs. She gargled curses at the cluster of wiry blue arms that tore at her clothes and hair. Hard bristles scraped her naked skin and water poured in from all directions.
She saw a gap in their assault and dove for the door. The goblinesses shrieked as they snapped at her heels, shaking brushes and cakes of soap above their heads.
Astrid grabbed a sapphire-encrusted triton from the wall and barred the door. The goblinesses pounded on the delicate wood. It was only a matter of moments before they clawed their way through.
Frantic, she ripped a red satin table cloth from a nearby table and tied it around her naked body. There has to be somewhere to hide, anywhere. She went from door to door, but was met with the resistance of a sturdy lock. After trying many, finally one gave way. She pushed her way through the door and shut it tight.
Astrid sat crouched on the other side of the door with her ear to the wood, waiting for the approaching mob of angry goblinesses. Her hand reached out behind her, searching for a weapon. If she couldn’t outrun them maybe she could subdue them.
“You seem to be missing some clothes.”
She whirled around to see Luka smirking over her. “You really don’t need to repay me like this,” he said, pulling up the table cloth to her neck. “I’m not that kind of elf.”
“You don’t think I’m here for—really? You are dense,” said Astrid, pressing her ear back against the door.
Luka yanked her from the door’s surface. “Why else would you be here? Like that? Makes sense to me…”
“Do I look like a common whore to you?”
Luka opened his mouth to respond.
“Don’t answer that—” Astrid slapped a hand over his mouth and listened hard. She could hear the goblinesses growling right outside the door. A sharp knock jarred her head from the door. Her felt the blood draining from her face as she scanned the room for a place to hide.
Luka rolled his eyes and pushed her aside. He reached for the door’s handle and pulled it open. “May I help you?”
“Yes, my Lord, I was wondering if perchance you had seen Miss Astrid. She seems to have disappeared and we were terribly worried, sir, we were.”
Luka stifled a laugh with a stern face. “I’m sure she’ll turn up eventually. I’ll keep my eyes open for her, though.”
“Many thanks, my Lord.”
Luka softly closed the door. Astrid could hear the wrathful growling of the goblinesses through the wood as they continued their search. Mutters of “mangy elf” and “damn mud-witch” echoed into the darkened room.
Astrid looked up at Luka, clutching the red silk tight around her shoulders. “Well I suppose I’m stuck here. You happen to have any food on you?”
Luka threw his feathered head back and laughed. “I may have something somewhere hidden in my trousers. Maybe a bit of bread or some cheese. You’re welcome to look. I may even have some coin for you. Tell me, how much do common whores charge these days?”
Astrid felt her gaze harden. “I’m sure you’d love that, wouldn’t you?” She snatched an empty candlestick from an ornately carved tabletop and extended it like a sword. “You’ll pay for that remark.”
“Please do, I’d love see what passes for Warrior these days,” he said through bouts of laughter.
Astrid cut his mirth short with a blow to the belly. She could hear the rush of air burst from his lungs. She ducked beneath his outstretched wing and snuffed the dancing candles, plunging them into darkness. She slid onto the heavy canopy of the bed and waited for him to regain his breath.
“Whew! So you want to play dirty, eh?” A red glow filled the room. She felt the bed heave upward as he lifted it to look underneath. The ceiling thudded against her skull, sending her head spinning. The candlestick was knocked from her grasp and came crashing to the ground.
“Ah, I see you,” he said, ripping through the canopy.
Astrid spun out of his grasp and swung to the floor. Once on the ground, she swung a kick beneath Luka’s feet and sent him toppling into the loose canopy. She sprung upon him, her fist upraised and a knee at his throat.
“Do you surrender yet?” She pressed harder on his throat when he didn’t respond.
“Yes, yes, now get off!”
Astrid laughed with glee as she bounced onto the bed. Luka untangled himself from the tattered canopy and relit the candles. His face was clouded and grim.
“Really, now. Don’t take it so hard. I’m sure you can heal yourself,” said Astrid, sitting upright and propping herself against an overstuffed pillow.
“It’s not that…” he said, pausing to think before continuing. “I hadn’t realized how much I missed being around people. Or the last time I’ve laughed this much.” He picked up a half-eaten loaf of bread from a nearby platter and tossed it toward her.
She caught it and tore into its fluffy interior, chewing it slowly. “Do you still plan on going back?” Her words were mangled by the mouthful of bread.
Luka smirked and shook his head. “I’m not so sure now. The longer I’m away, the more I never want to go back.” He strode to the bed and sat beside her, stretching out his wings behind him.
Astrid gulped down the hunk of bread. “Then don’t,” she said, wiping the crumbs from her face. “Sorry, I don’t mean to be so disgusting. I don’t remember the last time I’ve eaten.” She felt her face redden from his gaze.
“You’re far from disgusting. I think you’re beautiful,” he said, his mouth a jumble of words. He reached out and brushed her damp hair from her face. His hands were warm and inviting against her skin. She slid clo
ser to that warmth, holding his gaze in her sight. She hovered above his lips, unsure of the path laid out before her.
“What happened to you?” She breathed the words onto his skin.
“Many dark and horrible things. And one bright, beautiful thing. It’s difficult to explain, I doubt anyone could understand,” he said, wrapping his great arms around her.
“Try me,” she said. She felt herself sinking further into his warmth.
“My mother was murdered,” he said, his voice a soft rumble, “by what our people—your people—claim to be sacred. I was only a child… but the rage that burned inside me demanded vengeance. I murdered the Phoenix and in her dying breath she cursed me. As long as the clan shall live, so shall you. I was cast out of the village. Abandoned by my people and by my own father. It was a dark and horrible time…”
Astrid heard his voice catch in his throat. He turned his gaze away from her, trying to hide the tempest dwelling within his eyes.
“I’m so sorry,” she said, brushing his face with her fingers. “No one deserves such cruelty. You were only a child…” She was dumbstruck that her people were capable of such evil. The thought of being cast out into the desert to be forgotten filled her with icy dread. She knew she had felt that sense of cold isolation before. The day I was found wandering alone in the desert…
“You aren’t the one who did this. There would have been nothing you could have done,” he said as he flashed Astrid a forced smile.
“I hadn’t been found yet,” she said without thinking. Luka’s eyes shot her a curious glance. “I was found wandering the desert, maybe ten years ago… has it really been that long? Ethen was found around the same time. Victims of the same sandstorm I suppose,” she said. She forced a laugh but it faded into the painful silence. “Ilsie took us in shortly afterward and we’ve been in her care ever since.”
“Ilsie?” Luka propped himself up on his elbow, his feathered eyebrow arched. “Healer Isilda?”
Astrid nodded, unsure of his sudden interest.
“She finally got her wish then,” he said, a grin spreading across her face.
“Her wish for what?”
“Ilsie had always wanted children. She had tried for years until her husband never returned from a voyage at sea. Everyone thought her barren—”
“—Do not speak ill of Ilsie.” The words had escaped Astrid in an instant. Luka’s eyes widened, surprised by her venom.
“Ilsie is my family. My aunt,” Luka said as he smiled, trying to contain his laughter.
“Oh,” said Astrid. She could feel the heat of her face reddening. “I’m sorry. Ilsie’s the closest thing I’ve had to a mother and I’ve heard far too many people speak horribly about her.”
Luka nodded. “Nice to know the tribe has not changed much.”
Astrid narrowed her eyes. “So if Ilsie is your aunt, then Merrick—”
“Please don’t say his name.”
“I’m sorry,” she said. Luka turned his face away again. She could feel him pulling away. “Please, I didn’t mean to bring up those memories again.”
“It’s not your fault. You have nothing to apologize for… you’re the only good memory I have,” he said, drawing her closer to him. “I saw you dying that day. I heard what you said to Ethen. Seeing you willing to sacrifice yourself for him—I knew then that there was still good in the world.”
Astrid felt torn. “No, you’re wrong,” she said. “I’m just as selfish as the rest of the world. I may have done good things but did it really help? Or did it just cause more harm in the end.” Thoughts of the small, dirty child in her arms crept into her mind.
“There is light in you,” he said as he brushed her hair from her brow. “A light I can’t help but be drawn to.”
His face brushed against her lips. She pulled him in closer, kissing him hard. They let the world slip away, casting the constant pounding of thunder from their minds.
***
Ilsie paced around her rattling hut, debating on whether venturing into the storm to find her children was really a good idea or not. The violent storm outside tormented her with each passing minute. She had heard rumors that Ethen had been seen only hours ago but no trace of him had remained afterward.
Ilsie threw her hands up to her face. She could no longer take the mindless pacing. She tore through the hut, grabbing everything of importance and shoved it deep into the pockets of her thigh-length jacket. Healing herbs, food, bandages— her mind was frantic with worry that she may forget something that could mean the difference between life and death.
As she fastened a thick belt around the laden jacket, a heavy knock pounded on the flimsy door, buckling it beneath a weighty fist. Ilsie looked up at the door, fearful of what news awaited her on the other side.
“Ilsie! Open the door!”
Ilsie rushed to the door and undid the rusted latch. “Have you heard from the children?”
Vintas shook the water from his body, letting it pool up at his feet. “You need to come with me. The Grand Sage wants to see you,” he said, avoiding her gaze.
Ilsie’s hands shot to her mouth. She spoke between gasps. “Are… are they dead?”
“No, not to my knowledge, Ilsie,” he said. His voice rumbled as deeply as the thunder shaking the world outside. “I’m sure they’re fine, wherever they are—damn it, they’re not children anymore.”
His words stung at her heart. Having no other family left of her own, Ethen and Astrid had become her world. Vintas, always the Warrior, shied away from such notions.
“Come,” he said, “we must go. The Grand Sage demands it.” He placed a firm, muscular hand on her shoulder and guided her out of the hut and into the pelting rain.
Though it was a short walk to the Grand Sage’s home, the raging wind and torrents of rain made the journey drag on for what seemed like hours. She tried opening her mouth to protest this ridiculous venture but nearly drowned in the process.
Vintas shoved her into the spacious hut. She coughed up the rain from her lungs, gagging on the grit mingling in the sweet water. “This better be important,” she said, temper flaring.
“I assure you, sister, it is—” The familiar voice crept out from the darkness and sent chills down Ilsie’s spine. Merrick stepped into the faint candle light, his pale blue eyes electrified by the small flickering fire. He looked as if he had not aged since the last time Ilsie saw him. It had been a brief moment when both the children were still small. He had come and gone as quickly as the desert breeze. His face was still smooth with the exception of a narrow, pale scar on his cheek.
“I thought you were dead,” she said, reaching out to touch his face. He shrank away, his gaze hard. Ilsie retracted her hand, shocked by his icy presence. “What happened to you? Where have you been all this time?”
“That’s not why I’m here,” said Merrick, his gaze lingering on the smoking candles. “It seems there are some things the Grand Sage requires me to fix.”
Ilsie ran her fingers through her damp sandy curls. “Luka—Merrick, you can’t, he’s your son!”
“He’s an abomination!” The Grand Sage stepped into the light from behind Merrick’s shadow. She cast her hard gaze over all present, sending their stares crashing to the dusty ground. “How dare you defend the beast that slaughtered our Phoenix! You should be ashamed of your family and willing to atone for all their wicked deeds,” she said, her voice venomous and chill with hatred. “Merrick has agreed to set right all of his sins, not just his monster son.”
“I don’t understand,” Ilsie said, her voice quivering. “Merrick, please, what’s happening?” She reached out for him again and grabbed his hand. It was shaky in her grasp.
“Ilsie, if I don’t kill them, the council will kill you, me, Ethen—everyone we love. We have no choice—”
“—them?” Ilsie gazed back into his icy blue eyes. “This isn’t just about Luka, is it?” She dropped his hand and punched him hard in the chest. “Damn it, Merrick! Tell me the
truth!”
“Astrid…” he said, his words failing him. He looked away again, his mask of contempt cracking under the weight of Ilsie’s cries. She pounded on his chest, wanting to hurt him as much as he had hurt her.
“Ilsie, she has to die. They both do,” said Vintas. It was the softest she had ever heard his gruff voice. He reached out to touch her shoulder. She jerked away and sobbed in Merrick’s embrace.
“Please, Merrick! Please…” her words faded as Merrick lifted her chin in his hands.
“It will be easier for them with your help,” he said, wiping the tears from her face. “They would never have to be in pain. They would just… slip away.”
Ilsie pushed herself away, disgusted by her brother’s request. “You wish for me to poison them? You want me to kill our children?”
“You have no choice,” said the Grand Sage. “I will not risk the lives of my people for the sake of your wicked family!” The old crone rushed Ilsie, her gnarled hand latching onto Ilsie’s wrist. Her touch burned, sending howls pouring from Ilsie’s lips. The pain drove her to her knees. The room spun around her as the Grand Sage’s words seeped into her mind. “You will do this or you will suffer a much more terrible punishment than death. I have survived far too long to be ruined by your ignorance.”
Jagged scales stabbed through the blistering skin of Ilsie’s arm. With large, terrified eyes, Ilsie nodded, her sobs pleading. “Yes, I’ll do it—just please stop!”
Ilsie looked up at the Grand Sage, a wicked smile etched in her ancient face. “Hurry, child,” she said, releasing Ilsie’s mangled arm, “before they get away!”
Chapter Six
Wilhelmina smirked as she traced her scythe across the Anvalin’s surface. A swirl of inky black jettisoned across the blue stone, tormenting the souls held inside. She smiled, reveling in their shrieks.
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