by Eric Vall
Once I was settled between the women in the back, they slid their slender legs out to rest on my lap.
“Enjoying the ride?” I asked.
“I could get used to this,” Deya assured me as she twirled a soft pink tendril of hair around her finger with a book open in her lap. “I feel very wealthy all of a sudden, and I don’t know why. Maybe it’s the cushions … ”
I shook my head. “That tends to happen in a Mustang.”
“I’m already used to it,” Cayla added from my other side. The princess had her elbow propped on the side paneling, and her icy blue eyes looked almost indigo in the moonlight filtering through the glass at my back.
I grinned. “You wanna drive, too?”
“And spoil Aurora’s fun?” she asked as she raised her brows.
The half-elf shook her head from the front seat. “You can drive next time, it’s my turn now.”
Cayla smirked. “I’m too comfy anyways.”
“What have you ladies been up to back here?” I asked as I slid my palm up the princess’ leg to the crook of her hip.
“Deya’s reading,” she told me with a yawn.
“Trying to,” the elf said. “I wanted to read through this book of runes a bit, but it’s too dark.”
Aurora flicked her wrist, and a glowing orb of amber flame drifted back to us and hovered in front of the beautiful elf.
Deya smiled sweetly and sat up. “Thank you!” she called to the front.
Her hand shifted as she started to flip through the pages, and I caught sight of a silver glint in her clenched fist.
I gestured to her hand. “I have to ask, what’s the coin?”
“This?” Deya asked and held out her palm.
“That’s the one,” I said and eyed the sleek piece of silver. As the amber flames flickered across the surface, I noticed an etching at the center. “Dragir gave it to Ruela before we headed to House Kylen, and I’m guessing he gave it to you before you left with us. So … what does it do?”
Deya’s eyes glinted. “Do you have that dagger from the guard at House Pree?” she asked.
I nodded and pulled it from my belt.
“Stab me with it,” Deya commanded, and she lifted her leg a bit.
I snorted. “No fucking way.”
“Good answer,” Aurora chuckled.
Deya rolled her eyes. “Just do it, it’s fine.”
“No,” I told her once more. “I don’t care what it does, I’m not fucking stabbing you.”
The elf shrugged and went back to flipping through her book, and my curiosity only doubled.
So, I slipped the coin from Deya’s hand. “Here, I’ll be the test subject, alright?”
I handed the dagger to Deya and gestured toward my own thigh, but she didn’t seem so casual anymore. Her violet eyes flicked from the dagger to my leg, and she frowned.
“I can’t stab you,” she finally said.
“Just do it,” I pressed, “it’s fine. Right?”
Deya nodded, but her hand remained like a vice around the dagger’s hilt.
After nearly a full minute went by, she shook her head and let the dagger rest on the book in her lap. “I can’t do it,” she muttered. “How could I stab you? No.”
I rolled my eyes, and before she could react, I took the dagger from her lap and drove the Halcyan blade into my own thigh. A split second before I did, I realized it was the very same spot that still gave me trouble after the last time it had been impaled, but it was already too late.
The blade pierced my flesh and spliced straight through my tendons, but it missed my bone at least.
Deya screeched as she watched. “Don’t let go of the coin!” she ordered.
“Why?” I asked uneasily and tightened my fist another measure.
I’d felt the force of the blade and could tell it had done severe damage to my leg, but somehow, there wasn’t any pain involved. Only the extremely weird sensation of my flesh and tissues being separated.
Deya’s hands were on her cheeks as she stared with wide eyes. Then she quickly ripped the dagger out and let it fall to the floor.
“I can’t believe you just stabbed yourself,” she breathed and shook her head.
“You said it was fine,” I reminded her. “Is it actually fine?”
“It’s fine,” she assured me, but she was three shades paler. “It’s fine. I just…” The elf shivered, and Cayla chuckled from my other side.
“So, what does it do?” she asked curiously. The princess didn’t seem remotely fazed by the situation, and I sent her a smirk.
“Well, I don’t feel anything,” I said. “That’s pretty cool.”
Deya grazed her fingers along my thigh, and then she parted the tear in the fabric where the dagger had entered.
I looked down, and my jaw dropped.
“Holy shit … ” I gasped.
The skin was healing right in front of me, and there wasn’t a single drop of blood. After another moment, the faint scar from the last dagger wound even faded away, and my leg looked like nothing had ever happened.
Deya giggled at my expression. “It’s a family heirloom,” she explained and held out her hand for the coin.
I blankly dropped it into her palm. “Dragir made it?”
“No,” she said with a smirk. “Every Halcyan blade ever forged by my ancestors has a rune on it, but it is very temperamental. It’s only effective when inscribed by one of our bloodline. Somehow, though, this rune on the coin is altered.” Deya stooped to grab the dagger from the floor, and Cayla and I leaned in as she let the amber flames illuminate the base of the hilt.
The same crooked K symbol we’d seen on the dagger Aurora won from House Natyr was etched into this one as well.
Then Deya held the coin beside it, and I could vaguely make out the same symbol beneath the looping curls of something else.
“Who altered it?” I asked and studied the way the original rune was woven with the additional etchings.
“That’s what is so strange,” Deya said. “My mother made this coin. She gave it to Dragir, but he says she didn’t explain how she’d done it, or what it was for. So naturally, he tested it out and learned quickly that unless the coin is with you, the power will cease.”
I chuckled. “He let go of the coin?”
“He placed it down to get a closer look at the wound,” she explained, “but the moment he did, the pain began, and blood oozed out. Even after he grabbed the coin back, it didn’t stop. You must keep the coin with you, or the rune can’t help.”
“That’s kind of inconvenient,” I muttered. “What if you stumble or fall and drop the damn thing before you heal?”
“It doesn’t need to be in your hand,” Deya clarified. “Only connected to you. It could be in a pocket or within Ruela’s tethering, and the rune will be effective.”
I tried to wrap my head around this. “So … your mother altered a rune she didn’t possess the bloodline to influence, and this rune essentially makes you immortal?”
Deya looked unsure. “We don’t know about immortality … ” she admitted. “That isn’t a test Dragir was willing to do. But wounds heal themselves almost instantaneously. My mother is an amazing woman to be able to create something like this.” A proud glow came to the elf’s face. “Still, I can’t imagine how she managed it. Dragir has tried to replicate it, but it never works on anything else. He’s altered my grandfather’s Halcyan rune a few different ways, but this particular magic he has never accomplished.”
I furrowed my brow. “You said your House split from House Orrel during the great wars,” I recalled. “Were you talking about your father’s side?”
Deya nodded again.
“Which House did your mother’s family descend from?” I kept my voice casual as I asked, but Cayla leaned forward a little to watch the elf’s expression carefully.
“None of them,” Deya said lightly. “My mother’s family lived in the far south of Nalnora for longer than any of us know. They wer
e set apart from the troubles of the region and lived beside the ocean. My father says their abilities with rune magic would put the Elite to shame.”
I nodded once more but didn’t continue my inquiry. I cleared my throat and motioned to the dagger instead.
“What does your grandfather’s rune do?” I asked curiously. “I’ve seen the elves trying to get these from each other several times. They seem pretty sought after.”
“Yes, my brother doesn’t supply many Houses, so the blades that exist amongst them are mostly old and difficult to come by,” she explained. “Some have been destroyed or lost, but there are still many floating around that can be stolen or won in battle. They’re well crafted, but the rune is probably more effective for elves, I would think, because our bodies heal more quickly than a human’s. The unaltered rune is a relatively simple one. It doesn’t allow for bleeding while your hand is around the hilt. For an elf, this changes everything. If the wound doesn’t bleed out in battle, then the warrior is at a great advantage as long as he does not lose his blade before his body begins to heal.”
“Can you feel the pain of the injury?” I asked.
“You will feel the injury, and you can be inhibited by the damage,” Deya replied, “but you will not lose your blood. Depending on the wound, this will save your life.”
I considered this. “So, if you’re stabbed in the heart … ”
“The Halcyan blade cannot save you,” Deya finished for me, “but the coin might. We are not sure.”
I let out a low whistle. “That’s impressive.”
“I have one of your ancestor’s glaives,” Cayla told the elf. “It’s in the … trunk?” The princess glanced at me and cocked an eyebrow. “Is that what you say?”
I nodded.
“You might,” Deya allowed. “Only Dragir could tell you for sure.”
I cocked a brow. “What, are there fake Halcyan blades?”
“The blades are Halcyan of course, but when the hilts are damaged or disconnected, they must be remounted properly,” the pink-haired elf replied. “Dragir has come across many attempts to replicate his weapons, but as I said, the rune does not work unless we inscribe it. So, the weapon could have a Halcyan blade and my grandfather’s rune engraved in it, yet it will not stop the bleeding.”
Cayla looked amused. “That’s a fun trick,” she chuckled.
Deya grinned. “Dragir simply does not wish to forge weapons for all of Nalnora, otherwise he would do all of the repairs, as my grandfather did. Now, the Houses try to capture him every chance they get, but since none have succeeded, they think they can manage his work themselves. Let them die for their idiocy. I like to imagine them all bleeding to death and cursing Dragir all alone in the jungle. It serves them right.”
Deya wore a dreamy smile on her face when she finished, and I had to laugh.
“It’s a shame violence shocks you so much,” I mused. “You’d be kinda scary with the right weapon.”
Deya was about to respond when the car suddenly jolted, and Shoshanne shot up from her sleep to find Ruela flattened in her lap for dear life.
The road turned to head toward Rhoemir, and Aurora took us straight off the road toward House Quyn as needed.
I leaned forward and steadied myself on the back of the seat while the Mustang rocked dangerously far to one side.
“Okay, so this is rigged for off road driving, but you’re not gonna wanna do it at this speed,” I hollered over the ruckus we were causing.
Aurora was clearly enjoying the rough ride, and she giggled as she let the Mustang slow down. After a few more unnerving jolts, the tires found a proper footing again.
“You should be alright on this stuff for a while,” I decided once I’d gotten a better look at the terrain, “but watch out for boulders and please … don’t kill my car.”
I left a kiss on Shoshanne’s cheek before I sat back, and the healer chuckled sleepily as Aurora wove between two giant ferns and broke a partially decayed log into bits.
The rest of the ride was a bumpy one, but it was surprisingly comfortable with all of the work I’d done on the suspension. The motorcycle worked well for maneuvering, but the Mustang rolled through like it didn’t give a shit we were in the middle of a jungle.
Ferns whipped past the windows as we drove on, and the electric moths began to trail after the headlights. Eventually, I could see a small flock of them through the rear window, and as I watched them spark here and there, I decided I was actually happy to be in the southern jungles once more.
The air was heavy with fog, and the smell of sweet flowers and wet soil overran my senses. The plants continued to try and choke each other out all over the place, and although I knew some of them probably wanted to eat me, I didn’t even mind that at the moment. At least they weren’t condescending about it.
“Slow down,” Deya suddenly ordered. “Stop here.”
Aurora immediately obeyed, and the beautiful elf flipped to lean out the window.
I raised my brows and admired her bare backend with the sliver of white silk tucked between her thighs. “Everything alright?” I asked vaguely.
Then the elf whistled in a high, clear tone before she began a strange pattern. She repeated the same series of whistles twice more, and by the end of it, I heard several low snarls echo from the fog. The dogs of House Qyun stalked out of the ferns on all sides, and Ruela let a heavy growl bloom in her chest.
The pack responded to the sound by picking up a chorus or yips and howls, and Ruela leapt straight out through the window to fall in with the dozen or so dogs circling the Mustang. She snapped at every one that greeted her, and I grinned as they all bowed submissively to the wolfish beast.
I’d gotten used to her size since she’d joined us, but to see Ruela beside the others again reminded me how powerful her build really was. She was at least twice as big as the others, and her jaw could easily crush any of their own in one bite.
“They are already patrolling,” Deya said as she squinted through the fog. “Drive slowly ahead, the dogs will not attack us.”
Aurora nodded and continued through the jungle, and I watched the pack snarl and trot along. Soon, I noticed some of the shadows between the trees weren’t plants, and as they paced in their places, I realized they were the elves of House Quyn.
Deya leaned out the window again and giggled as a shadow turned and halted in its place. “There he is,” she said.
Aurora brought us to a stop, and as Dragir drew closer, I saw his eyes widen in the glow of the headlights.
“What is this?” he asked, and his tone gave away his amazement.
I grinned and leaned toward the window. “It’s a Mustang,” I told him.
Dragir nodded blankly, but when he noticed Deya’s new outfit, he rolled his eyes and was back to his old self again.
“You are trying to kill our father, then?” he asked his sister.
Deya smiled. “I am trying to be comfortable. I like it.”
“He will hate it,” Dragir assured her, and he motioned for the other elves to clear the way. “Leave this Mustang at the crystal bridge, and don’t wander through the woods.”
We nodded and continued forward, but I glanced back out of curiosity.
Dragir was still eyeing every inch of the Mustang, and I recognized a glint of jealousy in his serpentine eyes.
I chuckled. “Your brother likes my car,” I muttered to the beautiful elf.
Dragir immediately looked away, and Deya laughed. “Yes, he does.”
When we came to the base of the waterfall, we turned and parked a little ways from the bridge under the cover of a few large ferns. The minute the engine cut, the roar of the waterfall replaced it, and I smiled.
“It’s nice to be back,” I sighed as we all climbed out.
Cayla stretched her arms high above her head, and Shoshanne sauntered over to tuck herself in my arms. “I missed this waterfall,” she said sleepily.
I raised my brows and pulled the healer firml
y against me, but Dragir came through the trees before I’d made it to her lips.
“And what possessed you to bring my sister this far south when House Syru is set on killing us all?” he demanded. Dragir came to a stop directly at my side and leveled me with a very unfriendly look, but Deya responded before I could.
“How could I just sit in the north after I heard of this?” she asked. “The Elite are only wishing for our downfall. They hope to get you for themselves when it’s all done, I heard it for myself. We tried to speak with them, but they will do nothing to help us.”
“Of course they won’t,” he said. “Why would you think otherwise?”
Deya flinched lightly at his tone. “I only hoped their respect for myself and for our ancestors would--”
“That is not respect,” Dragir interrupted. “That is greed, Deya, know the difference. You will get yourself killed one day if you do not.”
I nodded. “He’s right.”
Dragir narrowed his eyes. “My father is inside,” he said curtly. Then he headed for the crystal bridge, and we all followed behind as Deya quickly grabbed her skirt from the backseat and tied it around her waist.
I jogged to catch up to Dragir. “What’s your plan of attack?” I asked him as we entered the cover of the willowish trees.
“House Syru’s army have returned to their fortress in the north, but House Kylen is still inhabited,” Dragir explained in a low voice. “We expect an attack from both sides. There are ten scouts in each direction, but when the time comes, we’ll have only sixty men against both their armies.”
I furrowed my brow. “How many do they have?”
“I am told House Kylen had forty last year when they fought against House Fehryn,” Dragir said as we wove through the sea of blue leaves leading to House Quyn. “I do not know how many remain now.”
“And House Syru?” I asked.
“No one knows.”
“Shit,” I muttered.
“Yes,” Dragir said wryly, and he held the door open for us to enter. The splintered planks had been replaced while we were away, but the house was just as silent and dim except for the glow of candlelight in the hall.