by Jim Galford
“Then you can go in with one of us ‘louts’,” Raeln told Nenophar gruffly. “Take me. I was taught to fight beside a wizard. Whether that wizard is Ilarra or you, I can help. We can’t wait around for her to recover. The undead are days away from the city, if that far.”
“They will take longer than that after recent setbacks,” Nenophar noted offhandedly. “I do agree they are too close, though. I believe someone pushed them back a good ways and bought us some time.”
“Something,” interjected Raeln. “Giant flying lizard nearly killed us when it attacked the undead. One more thing to worry about.”
Nenophar studied Raeln, looking to Ilarra as though he were debating whether the man was even worthy of consideration. Finally, he nodded and patted Ilarra’s shoulder. “I will see about getting them proper clothing for this region,” he said while looking at Raeln. “If you have no concerns, Ilarra, I will take your man into the keep and assess the situation. We will not engage Therec even if he does have the staff we need, but will come back and formulate a plan. Should he not have it, at least we have eliminated one critical location.”
“Are you okay shopping for wildlings?” Ilarra asked him, trying to imagine a dragon window-shopping for people he barely knew.
“That depends on the city. I have no currency from any lands still producing coin…will they take gold nuggets? Most human and elven lands seem to.”
Ilarra’s jaw dropped as Nenophar produced a palm-sized lump of gold from his pouch. With the pouch open, she could see three or four more where that had come from. “Nenophar,” she said softly, noticing that Greth had become abruptly interested in the conversation—almost dangerously so. “The common currency here is a small copper coin. Lands are bought and sold with bags of silver. What you are holding is enough to buy most of the lands surrounding Lantonne.”
The man gave her a confused look and placed the gold back in his pouch. “Why would the people of this city believe they can own land? Do they not follow the philosophy that what they have the ability to defend is theirs by right? I had believed that was why elves kept to such small houses.”
“I think you’re confusing them for my people,” Greth told Nenophar, though his eyes stayed on the pouch. “Elves and human buy and sell land the way most people pay another person for food. You’re lucky you don’t have to worry about elven ways…”
“How odd for them to act like that,” remarked Nenophar absently while Ilarra grabbed at his sleeve, trying to keep him from talking. “We elves, that is. Where I come from, they act different, I’m afraid.”
“And that’s where?” Greth pressed, his eyes darting over Nenophar’s clothing. Ilarra noticed his hand subtly move toward the weapon at his hip, and Raeln did the same, mirroring Greth. “Your accent is Lantonnian. Your clothing and hair are their style, too. One might think you’ve lived here a while. What I don’t recognize is your scent—you don’t have one. I’ve noticed Ilarra has that same problem.”
Stepping between Nenophar and the two wildlings, Ilarra raised her arms to stop them. “He’s a friend,” she reminded them. “I know what you’re thinking. He’s not a Turessian spy. I can promise you that. Please don’t ask for more than that, though.”
“Ilarra, have you seen the Turessians?” Greth demanded, though he did take his hand away from his weapon. “They don’t all have tattoos and dark clothing that screams ‘I’m a necromancer.’ Some of them look like people you know…and may well be people you’ve known. He could very well have been turned by them.”
“No, he couldn’t have,” she insisted. “You need to trust me. There are few people I can be sure of, but he’s one.”
Raeln finally relented and relaxed, then touched Greth’s shoulder to draw his attention. They stared at each other a moment, conversing without words, before Greth snarled and walked away.
To Ilarra, the exchanged looks reminded her of how her father and mother would silently argue with their eyes if they did not want her or Raeln to hear them bickering. That thought amused her even as she worried that, sooner or later, Greth might pick a fight with Nenophar…a fight she knew he would lose horribly. She had no desire to see him torn apart, and she knew that was likely how things would end if he did attack.
Nenophar finally broke the silence. “I will go and collect what we need. Your man and I will go into the keep tonight when the guard changes.”
“Be careful,” she warned, grabbing Nenophar’s hand. Tapping her temple with a finger, she added, “If anything happens to you…”
“I am always careful,” Nenophar told her, smiling. “Thank you for your concern. When we go tonight, I will bring him back safe, as well.”
Nenophar hurried from the room, and as Ilarra saw the heel of his boot disappear into the hallway, she noticed Raeln watching her. He gave her an amused smirk and clenched his jaw in a way she knew from their childhood—he dearly wanted to tease her about a boy. In this case, Nenophar, who Ilarra had absolutely no desire to bicker with Raeln about, especially now that Raeln was speaking. Looks were one thing, but having to listen to him suggesting she had an interest in Nenophar would be difficult at best and horrifying at worst with the knowledge of what he truly was.
From the moment Nenophar left to the time he returned, the three people left in the room said nothing. Greth seemed angry with Raeln over his decision to let Nenophar go—again reminding Ilarra of how her parents had bickered. Raeln, for his part, was lost in thoughts he did not seem willing to share. Ilarra was fine with that, letting her contemplate their strategy for finding the staff and escaping without interruption.
After the first hour of waiting, Raeln nodded to himself and stripped to his waist, taking his time picking at the burrs and knots in his fur with his claws. He continued until the fur lay smooth again, looking far more like a wildling from the city than the barbaric creature he had come to resemble. Once he appeared satisfied his fur had improved, Raeln wiped away all the loose fur pulled out by his brushing along with clumps of mud that had accumulated. A short time of grooming and he looked like an entirely new man.
Greth spent the whole time watching out the window for threats he likely could not name but feared anyway. Occasionally, he would glance over his shoulder at Raeln, but would always turn back to the window when he saw Ilarra watching.
For her own part, Ilarra’s time was passed watching the two men in the room with her. Having them back after so long was a small miracle she could never have believed possible. Greth she had assumed would stay in his homelands, no matter what might come. She had even assumed Raeln would find somewhere safer to stay after how upset he had begun to get over her treatment of him before he had left. Given Raeln’s reaction to her behavior upon returning, she wondered if he regretted not going elsewhere.
Ilarra reflected on those days and the early signs of the Turessian influence on her, dreading how much worse it could get. The attempt to harm the two wildlings when they had come back played over and over in her head, and despite knowing it was a vast overreaction on her part, she still felt the nagging need to kill them both, deep down in her mind.
When Ilarra thought on the desire to kill or even to hurt those she knew or loved, she “remembered” things she had done. The memories were not her own, but she saw them as clearly as anything done with her own hands. There were flashes of orcish villages being burned to the ground and survivors torn apart by undead. She saw small armies of the undead seeking out wildlings and orcs alike all over the lands of Eldvar, executing them all without hesitation. Thousands of lives passed before her mind’s eye, marred by blood and the screams of the dying. Despite all this, she still had no idea why the Turessians pushed so hard for her and the others to kill those races indiscriminately. She meant to ask Nenophar more about it, but always forgot.
She saw plenty of others die, but they were killed for specific reasons, such as to bolster the undead army, to prevent them from warning others of the Turessian approach, or in retaliation for resista
nce. There was no malice in those attacks, setting the deaths of the wildlings and orcs distinctly apart.
A singular thought came unbidden to the forefront, surprising Ilarra with its clarity. She saw an army of pale-skinned undead—ghouls—rushing into a city surrounded by sands. The city offered up little resistance as it was occupied. Dozens of other minds shouted elation at the victory somewhere in the recesses of her thoughts, letting her know this had just happened somewhere. The Turessians were actively conquering other lands. Lantonne might not be the last, but the number of holdouts was surely dwindling.
When Nenophar returned, it startled Ilarra, but the two wildlings did not even look up. They knew the man was coming before he arrived, likely due to their far better hearing.
“I have some basic attire for everyone,” Nenophar announced as he came in, offering Ilarra a folded dress and tall hunting boots. To Greth, he gave a simple pair of pants and shirt, as well as a belt, rolled-up cloak, and a hardened leather jacket. “For Raeln and I, more formal clothing was needed. I procured servants’ clothing from the keep that should let us get past some of those who are watching for us. I fear clothing will be far too little to fully hide us from them, though.”
Raeln took the offered pile of clothing and eyed it suspiciously. He sniffed at it, then asked, “Are the prior owners still alive?”
“If you are concerned about their remains being found, that is not a concern,” explained Nenophar off-handedly. “I was very discrete.”
“It would have been more discrete to steal from the keep’s laundry, rather than murder servants.”
Nenophar stopped where he was, his brows crinkling. “I agree in hindsight,” he noted, nodding at Raeln. “I’m afraid I’ve always taken the view that those in your way are disposable. Often, alternatives don’t cross my mind. You might well be an asset, thinking in such a way. Please, tell me when more practical approaches present themselves.”
“What will you have Greth and I do while you’re gone?” Ilarra asked, wanting to both know his thoughts on her role and also divert attention away from his awkward remarks.
Nenophar looked genuinely sad to answer. “You will need to stay here and hide. I know it’s not what you would want to do, but I’ve come to the belief that Dorralt has Turessian spies in the city already, looking for you and the staff. If they see you, they’ll know exactly who you are, as the woman near Altis did. The stronger ones may not even need to see you; they will feel your presence. The fact that you have not encountered any thus far tells me they may already be in the keep or are close to their target and do not wish to reveal themselves. This means we need to hurry and avoid the risk of discovery more than usual.”
Ilarra pouted and agreed, realizing he was right, even if it was discouraging. Offering herself up as a prize to the Turessians would not help anyone.
“Get going, already,” Greth told them as soon as Raeln and Nenophar had finished changing. Walking up to Raeln, he took the taller man’s hand. “Come back by tomorrow night or I’ll come in after you, even if it blows your cover. Understood?”
Raeln smiled uncomfortably, noticing Ilarra watching him, and pulled his hand away. “I’ll hurry,” he told Greth, raising his voice for Ilarra’s benefit. “I want you to keep Ilarra safe. Promise me, if things go badly, you’ll get her as far from Lantonne as possible.”
“You’re still an idiot, Raeln,” Greth replied, jabbing Raeln in the chest with a sharp claw. “If you die in there, there’s nothing I can do for the elf. Your stupid oath ties my hands. I’d love to make that promise, but there’s no point.”
Raeln closed his eyes and sighed. “Right. It’s been so long without worrying about it, I forgot…I never thought it would happen.”
Nenophar smoothed his servant’s garb and laughed softly to himself as he leaned against the wall. “If Raeln dies, I have died. With both of us dead, there is no hope for Ilarra to resist the Turessians and she will be lost to us. She will see to it the city falls, so you must believe I have a very strong commitment to keeping your Raeln alive.”
“My…” Greth sputtered and looked at Ilarra, masking his surprise with anger. “Your Raeln…just like I always said, he’s like a pet. Disgusting.”
Ilarra bit her lip to keep from saying anything she knew they were not ready to hear, which Raeln seemed to take as an acceptance to get underway. Coming over to her, he bent forward until his whiskers brushed her face, making her laugh.
“I promise I will be careful,” Raeln told her firmly. “Keep him safe, too. He’ll try very hard to get himself in trouble.”
“I’ll promise only if you agree to talk about the two of you when you get back.”
Raeln wrinkled his muzzle. “I’ll have to think how I can even answer that. I may need more time, but I will at some point, once I know myself. Is that fair?”
“Agreed. Now go and find us a way to save the city.”
Raeln stepped away from Ilarra, giving her a look that told her he feared it might be the last time he saw his adopted sister. He gave Greth a similar look, though it was far briefer and cut short by Greth rolling his eyes and turning to look out the window.
Without any further discussion, Raeln and Nenophar left the room and closed the door behind them. Soon, Greth’s casual attention at the window became more focused, likely as he saw the two on the sunlit street below.
“How would you like to pass the time?” Ilarra asked a few minutes later, though Greth continued to stare out the window. “We have hours to wait, and I’d rather we not pace anxiously. We have to believe he…they are coming back alive.”
“Oh, he will,” Greth told her without looking away from the cityscape. “He knows I’ll hurt him if he doesn’t. If you want to pass the time, you can start by telling me what the elf was talking about when he said you would be lost to the Turessians. How bad is this thing, and what do I need to know to keep us all safe?”
“You won’t like the answer.”
“I never do when furless have secrets.” His tail swished angrily, but he kept watching the streets outside. “I’m getting used to worrying about things the way Raeln does. Tell me everything. If you don’t want me to tell Raeln or the elf, I won’t. I need to understand, if I’m to keep Raeln safe.”
Ilarra frowned at that. “He’s dedicated his life to protecting others. I doubt he wants you watching over him like that.”
“He’s an adult, elf. Besides, how I dote on him is between him and I. You’re not stupid, and I saw the way you watched us. You know how I feel, so tell me what I need to know without making me justify the reason.”
“Why haven’t you told him?”
Greth glanced over his shoulder at her, baring his fangs for a second, and then turned back to the window. “We are surrounded by flesh-eating corpses formed into an army bent on wiping this city off of every map. Which is easier to cope with: the death of someone you love, or the death of someone who you hoped you might one day be able to admit to loving? I’m pretty sure it’s kinder to him to say nothing until we get out of here alive.”
“If that’s what you want.”
Ilarra began telling Greth everything Nenophar had told her about herself, including a few details of what she had learned on her own. She was cautious with what she said and avoided giving away anything about Nenophar, twisting the story to make him sound more like a scholar of odd things.
Greth did not question or object to any of it and just listened to her, staring out the window and twisting one of the pelts Ilarra was fairly certain Raeln had been wearing earlier in his hands nervously.
Once she had finished, Ilarra waited for Greth to say anything, but he remained silent. She took it as a sign that he wanted to contemplate the situation a while and let him be, instead looking over the items Nenophar had brought her.
The dress and boots were simple, a nice option if she had to be more subtle than the elegant attire she had given herself before losing her magic. When they fled the city, the new clothing
would be far more practical for travel. She did not even consider the odds that they might not actually leave the city if the staff was not found in time.
Looking through the various other items Nenophar had dropped at her feet, Ilarra found new belts, pouches to replace her worn ones, and even several swords and knives, likely intended for Raeln and Greth. These drew her eye, and she picked up one of the longer knives, drawing it to examine the edge. It was finely crafted, a type of steel she had seen or heard of in P’shaan to the far east. The idea that she had never been to those lands or known anyone who had never crossed her mind.
The knife caught the light on its blade, holding Ilarra spellbound. She touched the edge with her finger. It would cut through a foe easily.
A shout snapped Ilarra’s attention from the knife, and she realized she was no longer sitting to one side of the room. She sat atop Greth, the knife at his throat, pressed into his fur. He had both hands clamped on her wrist, trying to hold her back.
“What…what’s going on?” she asked, letting the knife drop.
Greth slapped it aside, sending it clattering under debris near the wall. “You grabbed me from behind,” Greth answered, touching his neck and pulling back his fingers with blood on them. “I couldn’t fight you—you were too strong. Before I could do anything, you had me down and that blade on me…”
“Greth,” Ilarra pleaded, tears coming to her eyes. “It’s not me…it’s…”
“I know, kid,” he replied, pulling her into a hug. “Those two will be back as fast as they can. Try not to go crazy on me just yet.”
Ilarra buried her face in his chest, crying uncontrollably as she thought about how close she had come to killing him. Raeln would never have forgiven her. Seeing his face when he returned to find his friend dead would have broken Ilarra—exactly what Dorralt wanted.