The Legend Of Eli Monpress

by Rachel Aaron

  Taking another deep breath in an attempt to clear his foggy mind, Josef began the serious business of finding his sword. He unclenched his aching hands and began to feel along the bed frame, careful not to make a sound.

  “It’s on top of you,” said a familiar voice.

  Josef’s head shot up, sending waves of pain down his back, and he cursed loudly as Eli’s smug face appeared in the air above him.

  “Good morning, sunshine,” Eli said. “Glad to see you up.”

  Josef glared murder at the thief and moved his hands to his chest. Sure enough, the Heart was resting directly on top of him. At least that explained the feeling of having a boulder on his ribs. He relaxed down into the bed with a long breath. “How long have I been out?”

  “About three days,” Eli answered, pulling his chair closer to the bed. “And I’ve got the crick in my neck to prove it. You’ve been hogging the only bed. I’ve had to make do with a spare cushion on the floor.”

  Josef was not sympathetic. “What about Nico? Where is she?”

  “Who knows,” Eli said. “Out.”

  Josef was startled by the hostility in his voice. “What happened?”

  Eli shrugged. “The usual. You went down, Nico went crazy, I got us out. We thought you were going to die on us for a while, but the Heart did an excellent job patching you up. You look like you usually do after one of your fights now, which is miles better than the bloody mess you were when we laid you down.”

  “And what about Nico?”

  “Powers, Josef!” Eli cried. “Can you think about something besides the girl for two seconds? I go out on a limb, not even a limb, a twig, to save your hide, and when you wake up all I hear is Nico this, Nico that. I don’t even get a thank-you.”

  “Thank you,” Josef said. “Don’t get angry about it. You can take care of yourself, but Nico has a hard time with that right now. So when you say she’s ‘out,’ like you don’t even care—”

  “Maybe I don’t,” Eli snapped. “Maybe you shouldn’t either.”

  Josef stared at his friend. In the four years he’d known Eli, he’d never seen the thief this upset.

  Eli looked away and took a deep breath. “Josef,” he said, more quietly. “When you found Nico, did you ever wonder why she was out there naked on the mountain?”

  “Of course,” Josef answered. “But I figured she would tell me when I needed to know. I’m not concerned with people’s pasts, Eli.”

  “Maybe you should be,” Eli said, running his hands through his dark hair, which was getting long and scruffy. “You know how oddly she’s been acting, right?”

  Josef nodded.

  “When I was in the mountain, I heard things,” Eli said. “I’m not someone to trust everything I hear, but this made too much sense to ignore. You’ve heard of the Daughter of the Dead Mountain?”

  “I’ve seen the posters.”

  “Who hasn’t?” Eli said with a shrug. “Two hundred thousand gold standards, the second-highest bounty ever posted. It’s twice as high as mine.” Eli scowled. “I think that’s what bothers me most. All this time, and she didn’t even have the courtesy to—”

  “Stop,” Josef said. “Just stop. I know where you’re going. Nico is the Daughter of the Dead Mountain. So what? The Lord of Storms told me as much, but you can’t hold it against her. She lost her memory, remember? Maybe she didn’t even know.”

  Eli rolled his eyes. “Come on, Josef. You’re stubborn, not stupid. Do you really believe all that garbage? Memory loss,” Eli said and snorted. “She remembered well enough how to get back to the mountain.”

  “Yes,” Josef said. “To help us.”

  “She lied to us.”

  “She kept a secret,” Josef corrected. “You’re hardly in a position to blame others for keeping secrets, Monpress.”

  Eli said sullenly, “This is too big. She should have told us.”

  “And what would you have done?” Josef said.

  “Not what I did,” Eli said. “She lied to us, Josef. We let her take off her manacles. I took her to Slorn’s house, to Nivel. Do you know what she could have done ?”

  “I never heard of her doing anything,” Josef said. “And I never heard her lie. I never heard her say anything about the Daughter of the Dead Mountain, that is, when she could say anything at all without you taking up all the breathable air.” He glared at Eli. “Whoever she is, whatever name you give her, it doesn’t change the last year. She’s still the same Nico who put her life on the line dozens of times for your stupid thefts, who risked exposing her past to help you find your bear-headed friend, which was more than you did, I could add. So if you have something to say about that Nico, unless it’s how you’re going to go find her and tell her I’m all right, then I don’t want to hear it.”

  Eli looked away. “It’s not like that,” he grumbled.

  “Then don’t make it like that,” Josef snapped back. “I don’t ask about your past, I don’t ask about Nico’s, and I haven’t told you about mine because the past doesn’t matter, Eli. What we did and who we were are just dregs compared to who we are now and how we act when the sword is coming down. Think about that while you go out to find Nico.”

  Eli started to say something, but then he snapped his mouth shut and stood up, sweeping the chair back with a clatter. He grabbed his blue coat from the peg on the wall and stomped out the door, letting it slam shut behind him. Josef listened until the thief’s angry footsteps faded into the forest, then lay back with a long sigh.

  “He’s gone,” he said. “You can come in now.”

  Something rustled below the window, and Nico quietly climbed into the cabin. Her hood was down, but it did little to hide her puffy eyes and wet cheeks. Josef held out his arm and she ran to him, burying her face in his hand.

  “He hates me now.” Josef felt the words more than heard them.

  “He may,” Josef said. “Eli doesn’t like surprises, but he’ll get over this. He can be a selfish idiot on occasion, but he’s rarely deliberately unfair. He’ll come around soon enough and things will move on. We’re all survivors. We’ll be all right.”

  Nico didn’t move, but her breathing was slowing. Josef cupped her cheek gently. They sat like that for a while, Nico on her knees beside the bed, her head in Josef’s hand. Then, without warning, Josef went stiff.

  Nico looked up immediately, but Josef put his finger to his lips, listening. Gently but firmly, he pushed her aside and sat up. Pain shot through him, but Josef stayed silent. The Heart was ready when he reached for it, the hilt almost jumping into his hand. With another burst of pain, he stood, and after a few wobbly moments, found his feet again. When he was sure he would not fall down, he crept toward the cabin door and pressed his eye against the crack.

  “Oh, no,” he groaned. “Not again.”

  “Liechten!” A horribly familiar voice cut through the thin cabin walls. “Master of the Heart of War! Come and fight!”

  Josef steeled his shoulders and opened the door, leaning on the frame for support as he stared at the crowd waiting in the little clearing around the cabin. They were bandits, that much was obvious. A bit better equipped than what he was used to, but Josef dismissed them as soon as he noted their sloppy stances and turned his attention to the real threat, the enormous man standing at the head of the group.

  Josef heaved an enormous sigh. “Hello, Sted.”

  Eli tromped through the woods, kicking the leaves and fallen sticks and whatever else got in his way. This caused the trees around him to rustle uncomfortably, but for once Eli didn’t care. He should have known better than to bring this up with Josef. They’d been together on and off almost since the beginning, back when his bounty didn’t even warrant its own poster, and though their arrangement had always been one of mutual benefit—he got a swordsman and Josef got to fight as much as he pleased— he’d thought they were friends.

  Eli gave the rotten stump in front of him a particularly hard kick. Even he knew that was unfair. Josef ha
d stayed with him even when there were no good fights to be had. He might be a stubborn idiot sometimes, but he was a loyal one. But why did the swordsman always have to take Nico’s side?

  He didn’t understand, Eli decided. He wasn’t a wizard, he didn’t talk to spirits, he didn’t really know how horrible demons could be. Of course, Eli thought with a sigh, he was just as bad, letting himself get caught up in Nico’s power, forgetting what she really was. Well, the monster on the mountain had cured him of that delusion. The demon had made it very clear that the Nico they knew, the Nico Josef defended, she was just a shell. A cracking one, he realized with a shudder. It wasn’t a question of whether she would change, but when. When she’d been a normal seed, it had been easy to sweep that little unpleasantness under the table. Now that he knew what she really was, the stakes were different, and the game was getting too rich for his blood.

  Eli stared at the woods in front of him, the rolling hills of dappled shade and fragrant evergreens. Thinking about it rationally, he should keep walking. He’d been a thief long enough to know when it was time to cut your losses and get out, but …

  Eli stopped in his tracks. First rule of thievery, the actual first rule the old Monpress had drilled into him, was never risk what you couldn’t afford to lose. He couldn’t lose his team, not if he wanted to get his bounty to one million. Over the last year, he’d pushed higher and further than ever, and Nico had been a part of that as much as Josef. Even knowing what he was messing with, he couldn’t give that up. Not yet.

  He was still standing there, sucking his lip as his better judgment warred with his ambition, when a loud noise, a whistle followed by a thunk, sounded right beside his ear. Eli jumped on instinct, throwing himself sideways into the leaves. He rolled into a crouch, then stopped and looked up. An arrow was quivering in the trunk of the tree he’d been standing beside. Eli stared at it dumbly for a second and then craned his neck, frantically looking for the bowman.

  Another arrow slammed into the ground beside him before he even got his head up. Realizing he was still an open target, Eli scrambled to the other side of the tree, madly beating on the trunk as he went.

  The tree rustled grumpily. “What do you want?”

  “I need to know where that came from,” Eli whispered, pointing at the arrow.

  “What are you talking about?” the tree said. “I don’t feel …” It stopped. “Why is there an arrow in me?”

  “That’s what I’m asking,” Eli said.

  “How should I know?” The tree was starting to panic.

  “Ask the arrow,” Eli said, giving the bark a push. “Quickly, please, if you don’t mind.”

  “Good idea,” the tree said, and lapsed into mad rustling.

  Eli kept as close to the tree as he could, trying to look everywhere at once. He would have asked the arrow himself, but the tree could get it to talk faster than even he could, short of opening his spirit. But as the seconds stretched on and on, the tree just kept rustling until its leaves were raining down.

  “Well?” Eli said.

  “Nothing,” it answered. “That arrow’s dead asleep.”

  “So wake it up.”

  “What do you think I was trying to do?” The tree snapped its branches. “Someone put it to sleep.”

  Eli cursed his luck. “Well, can you see anyone who might have shot it? Another human?”

  “I don’t see anything that’s not always here,” the tree said, more confused than ever. “Other than you and the arrow.”

  Eli was about to offer to pull the arrow out and have a go at it himself when he heard the telltale whistle of fletching, this time from his right. He ducked just in time as another arrow landed in the tree and the wood cried out in surprise and pain.

  “Did you see that one?” Eli said, scrambling to get to the other side.

  “No!” the tree shouted. “I don’t see anything!”

  Another whistle screamed through the forest as an arrow struck the ground right beside Eli’s foot. This was when he decided to forget finding the archer and just run.

  He sprang forward, dashing through the trees. Arrows whistled behind him, each bolt striking his footprint a second after his boot made it. He ran as fast as he could, lungs slamming for air while his brain spun even faster, trying to come up with a plan. The trees were sparse and open, offering little cover. He saw a rocky defile to his left and tried to turn, but the arrows struck the ground in front of him, landing deep in the soil where he would have been if he’d moved a second faster. With an undignified squeak, Eli turned on his heel and kept running, trying the turn again a few dozen feet later only to have the arrows cut him off again. The third time it happened, Eli knew he was being driven. Every time he tried to dodge left or right, the arrows pushed him straight again, forcing him east down a slope toward a wide mountain stream.

  It was a trap for sure, Eli realized grimly, but he couldn’t stop. Already his feet were sliding on the slippery leaves, forcing him to run even faster or risk going down the hill on his back. He skidded down the bank and landed in the creek with a splash. The mossy rocks slipped under his boots, sending him sprawling face-first into the icy water. He was up instantly, sputtering as he scrambled back to his feet only to slip again. He fell cursing back into the water, flailing around to make himself a harder target. But as he scrambled to get his legs back under him, he realized that the arrows had stopped. He paused, listening, but the forest was silent except for the soft trickle of the water.

  Carefully this time, Eli stood up. Maybe he’d gotten out of range of the archer? If that was the case, whoever it was would be coming down after him. He looked over his shoulder, eyeing places on the opposite bank where he could hide and see who had been shooting at him. He spotted a good vantage point and began to quickly, but carefully, pick his way across the slick rocks. He’d made it halfway across the streambed when the water suddenly stopped.

  Eli tripped and pitched forward, arms flying out to catch himself, but there was no need. The water, which had been running against his legs, was now hard as baked clay, and he was baked in as well, trapped from the knees down in crystal clear, freezing cold, perfectly still water.

  After several moments of desperate tugging proved this wasn’t something he could just yank his legs out of, Eli calmed down and took stock of the situation. The water had stopped moving for as far as he could see up and down the creek. Except for the wind overhead, the stream valley was perfectly silent. Experimentally, he tried to wiggle his toes, but even they were trapped, entombed in the water that had flowed into his boots before the freeze. No, freeze was the wrong idea. The water wasn’t ice. It was just stopped. Stopped and not talking about it, which meant there was a wizard around.

  The moment that realization crossed his mind, he knew who it was. He turned slowly, and there was no shock on his face when he saw a woman with red hair stepping out from behind a tree with an enormous grin on her face.

  “Miranda Lyonette,” Eli said. “A pleasure, as always.”

  If possible, the Spiritualist’s grin grew even wider. “For once, we agree.”

  There was a rustle of branches from across the valley, and Eli turned to see her dog loping down the far bank with a grin that matched his mistress’s.

  “You’ve outdone yourself,” Eli said as Gin joined her. “Caught me flat-footed and unprepared. The arrows were especially nice. Brava, my dear. So what now? Is there a contingent of Spiritualists coming to clap me in irons?”

  Miranda shook her head. “No. You showed me how effective irons were back in Gaol. This time I’m using something you can’t wiggle out of.”

  Eli smiled politely. “Which is?”

  Miranda stepped into the stream, and Eli swallowed when he saw the still water slide back to make a dry path for her. She walked forward over dry stones, stopping just out of Eli’s reach, her smile wider than ever.

  “Eli Monpress,” she said, her voice deep and joyful, “you are under arrest for crimes against the S
pirit Court and the Council of Thrones.”

  “That’s a pretty broad accusation,” Eli said. “Can’t you be more specific? This is my arrest. It would be a shame to gloss over my impressive record.”

  “Oh, don’t worry,” Miranda said. “I’m certain they’ll read the whole list at your trial.” She leaned forward and, to Eli’s enormous surprise, gave him a long, slow wink. “See you on the other side, Eli Monpress.”

  As she spoke, the stopped water started moving again, but not down the creekbed. It flowed up Eli’s body, covering his chest, his shoulders, and finally his head. He struggled and thrashed, but the water simply pushed back, rendering his blows meaningless. He took a deep breath just before the water went over his head, and the last thing he saw was Miranda’s face grinning triumphantly before everything went black.

  Miranda was almost giggling as she watched Mellinor swallow Eli’s head. A trickle of icy water rushed over her feet as Mellinor released control of the creek back to the local spirit, but she wouldn’t have cared if she’d been on fire at this point. She’d done it. She’d actually caught Eli Monpress.

  “Don’t smile too hard,” Gin said, splashing through the water to join her. “He’s not in Zarin yet. I won’t feel safe until he’s sitting in Banage’s office.”

  “Even Eli Monpress will have a hard time escaping if he’s unconscious,” Miranda said. “How’s he doing?”

  “Out cold,” Mellinor answered. The pillar of water was floating completely separate from the creek now, with Eli’s slumped body cocooned at its center.

  Miranda sighed happily. “It’s a beautiful sight. How long can you keep him like that?”

  “Long enough,” Mellinor answered. “Just keep me near a source of water and I should be able to hold him like this all the way to Zarin.”

  Miranda motioned Gin over. The dog came sullenly, wincing as Mellinor slumped the water-bound thief across his back.

  “He’s cold,” he grumbled, ears back. “And wet.”

  “It’s just for a little bit,” Miranda said, adjusting Eli to lie across Gin’s haunches. “Buck up.”