Sighing louder than needed, she shifted to look at Errance who leaned against the tree and gazed out into the forest like a perfect statue. After a minute, he shifted and withdrew the sword Coren gave him, running his hand down the blade again and again. Over the past few days, Tellie often saw him do this and each time she watched as closely as she dared. The blade truly did shine with some inner light, but she hadn’t found courage yet to ask why. Trying to awaken Errance’s nostalgia never really worked, but she hoped he found it himself in the perfect curve of metal and the designs etched therein.
She could hear his hand smoothing down the blade. It took her a moment to realize why this was odd. She heard the sound because there was nothing else to hear. The silence of the forest went beyond the mere stilling of their company—there were no sounds of birds or insects.
The silence was dead.
“Errance.” Scalp suddenly tingling, she began to inch up from the log.
Too slow. Too late.
She did not see, only sensed the shadow dropping down towards her from the branches above, but all she had time to do was huddle and cover her head.
But Errance had already reached her, yanking her forward and away even as he thrust himself upon that which pounced. She tumbled into the ground and moss, thrashing in panic to find footing. By the time she scrambled up and turned around, Errance and their assailant struggled upon the ground in locked battle.
It was the shard, Daran’s shard. She had no way to be sure it was the same one, but it was only one she had ever seen.
She screamed in terror, shock, anger, alarm. Only a second after did she fear the sound would draw any other of Daran’s men nearer, but surely if the shard was here, the others were not far behind. Swinging about, she looked for a tree limb, anything she might use in combat, but before anything could be reached, a terrible shriek sounded just behind.
She spun and saw the two wrenching apart, the shard scrambling along the ground, and Errance thrusting himself up on one knee. Blood ran in rivulets down the prince’s face and neck, but his grip on the elven sword adjusted and found control. He swung the blade high above his head and it blazed in a shooting star as it arced down.
Tellie forgot to close her eyes. She flinched instead as the sword drove into the shard’s chest and into the ground beneath. But there wasn’t any blood. The ghostly flicker in the monster’s eyes winked out, and wisps of darkness curled out of its shadowed sockets and sagging maw.
Errance staggered up, swiping his shaking hand across his brow, which only smeared the scarlet across his too pale face. He lurched toward her and seized her shoulders. “You listen to me,” he snarled. “You are going to run until you out of this forest and in the open where The Daisha can see you. She’s our only chance.”
“Shouldn’t we hide?” she whimpered. “The Daisha can’t carry all four of us, can she?”
“She will have to. Now run and do not stop. Do you hear me?” He gave her a hard, short shake. “Don’t. Stop.”
Birds exploded out of a nearby bush, squawking in dismay. A dark figure rose behind the brush. Another of Daran’s men. He didn’t leap to attack, but stepped forward to test whether they’d run or fight.
Pivoting with deadly grace, Errance faced the awaiting foe, holding the blade loose at his thigh. “Go,” he said with the authority of a commander, a king.
Tellie stared at their enemy, head spinning. The shard was dead, here was one man, but where were the others? Why weren’t they attacking all at once? “You…you will be coming after me?”
“I said, GO!”
Her trance of fear shattered into splinters of glass. She leapt into flight, racing away from the clearing, setting all her will on escaping the forest. She forced herself to ignore the ring of steel clashing behind her. Find The Daisha. Find The Daisha. Find The Daisha. The trees and ground blurred out of focus. When she tripped on a root or rock, she simply got up again and kept running. Branches tore, stone crumbled. She scrambled down ditches and up cliffs.
Then another man leapt out in front of her. With a scream, Tellie dashed to the side, falling into a gully. Rocks scattering before her feet, she slid down and jumped for the opposite side. A heavy figure landed right beneath her and grabbed her ankle. Twisting, she jabbed her other foot at the attacker’s face, and his hand swiped to grab it as well.
A dark blur caught the upper rim of her eye, and she looked up in a wrench of fear, but it was Errance. Her attacker, perhaps glimpsing the sudden relief upon her face, let go and spun to face the elf. Tellie seized the moment and kicked the back of his head. It was not much of a kick, but enough to send him a surprised step forward and out of control.
Errance leapt, knee thudding into the man’s upper chest, knocking them both against the gully’s side. His elbow smacked aside a grasp at his neck, and then the blade of Aselvia sliced deep and true.
Tellie sank against the bank, chest burning for breath, but Errance hauled her up again.
“Keep moving,” he said, his own breath unsteady, and she feared that he might be wounded, but a quick glance did not tell nor could she look any further. Keep running. The end of the forest could not be far now. Out on the hills, they would be visible and surely they would see The Daisha up in the clear sky. Perhaps their friends were already alert to the danger and coming as fast as possible.
Three men were accounted for, Tellie realized in a distant corner of her mind. That left Daran and one other. Why had they spread out? Why were they attacking her when they wanted Errance?
If she’d stopped to consider this, she might have come up with the answer and insisted on staying by Errance’s side instead of taking a longer lead.
If she had stopped, she wouldn’t have turned around the large boulder barring the way and run straight into the arms of one of the hunters. Before she could scream, before she could wrench away, a hand clamped over her mouth and an arm pinned her own to her sides. She stiffened, disbelief jarring every sense within her.
“Finally,” Daran’s voice muttered from somewhere nearby. The man holding her jerked off her feet and carried her several yards back from the rock. The arm around her body released for one brief moment, but only to draw a knife and hold it against her throat.
No. No, no, no.
Errance came around the corner. And saw her. Saw them. He skidded to a halt, eyes flaring.
“That’s right,” Daran said, saturated in smugness. He left his sword hanging by his side, standing with supreme confidence. “Don’t take a step closer or she’s dead.”
Errance’s eyes narrowed to slits, snapping back and forth to Daran and to the man holding Tellie captive. The hand gripping his sword tightened till the knuckles turned pure white and every vein stretched against skin.
“You ran her right into our little trap,” Daran taunted. “How noble of you. I hope you’re decent enough to let her live. Put down your weapon, and we’ll spare her.”
Errance took one small step forward, and the man holding Tellie dragged her several steps back. And then he at last looked at her.
Their eyes locked, and she shuddered to see that not a single veil concealed his spirit. The pain and sorrow in those eyes was raw, swiftly turning red. She realized then that she had never known for certain if he cared for her even really liked her. But now she knew. She knew that love was his deepest core, that it had driven him to refuse freedom for years. And with that same love he would give up that freedom to see her live.
NO! Fury roared to life inside her veins. She threw herself back, then forwards against her captor’s grip. She felt the knife blade nick her throat, but she knew that only came from the struggle. The hunters wouldn’t dare kill her if they didn’t want Errance upon them. She needed to scream for The Daisha, praying she was near enough to hear. She bit the hand over her mouth. She knew that if she could break free, Errance would spring and save her. Savagely, she gave another twist and felt her captor’s hold slacken.
Something hard slammed into th
e side of her head, and lights exploded in front of her vision. Perhaps Ayeshune has come to save us, she briefly hoped.
Instead, darkness fell.
For a terrible moment, Daran watched all his ambition teeter on the point of a knife. He knew that if the girl broke free, the elf would be upon them and chances of outmatching him were slim. Yet he could not take a step to help his man restrain the wench because that too would expose them to attack. So he stood tense and watched, sweat beading on his brow.
The knife knocked against the girl’s temple, and her eyes crossed and then fluttered shut. Her body went limp as a broken dove.
The thrill of success returned in a heady wash. Daran exhaled with a muttered curse and set all his focus on the elf. He’d heard the surest way to capture the Prisoner was by threat of other life and so far it proved true. “Drop that sword,” he snarled, “and get over here.”
The sword fell with a light thump upon the earth. The elf’s steps to him were slow but steady. The instant Daran touched him, the thrill of success traded place with terror of failure. He jerked the elf to him, whipping corded rope around his wrists with shaking hands. Finishing, he breathed again and turned his head toward the forest.
“Kilkus! Narg! Hurry it up, Blath, we caught the vermin,” he hollered.
Nothing but the rustle of leaves answered.
“They’re dead.”
Daran’s hand tightened on the elf’s arm, and he stepped to the side to get a better look at his prisoner’s vacant face. “What?” he demanded, skin crawling at the north cold chill in the prisoner’s tone.
“I killed them,” the Prisoner said.
Whirling around, Daran looked at the elf’s sword that he had thrown aside. Blood and dark shadow stained its blade. Kilkus—the monster, the chema, the friend—gone for good. Narg and Blath had been a dependable sort, good in a pinch or for a pint. And here stood this pointy-eared beast announcing their deaths as he might have mentioned the time of day. Daran’s shock erupted into fury.
“You ghoul!” he snarled. He drove his fist into the prisoner’s stomach, and as the elf doubled over, he slammed an elbow down between his shoulder blades, dropping him the ground. “I was required to bring you back alive—nothing more!” He drew back his foot to kick, but he paused, because the prisoner’s shoulders were shaking, and a strange noise rattled in his throat.
“Are you crying?” Daran asked in disbelief. So much for the unbroken legend.
The elf turned his head so that his cheek rested against the dirt. He was laughing. “Pain,” he gasped. “How I’ve missed it.” He collapsed into another breathy spurt of laughter.
Cold, clammy fingers touched Daran’s spine. Was the elf mad? Surely so, but he had never expected the madness to manifest in such a strange and…terrifying way. Terror. No. No. The tickle of cold quickened, turning into a tongue of fire. The fire burst into rage, white-hot hatred. He would not be intimidated by his own prisoner! This was his moment of triumph, of truth, and for once he would show he was master!
He delivered the kick with savage force.
Errance struck.
The elf prince rolled to the side with the speed of a snake and the strength of a lion, knocking Daran’s feet out from under him. He kept rolling till he reached the sword and then looped his wrists around the blade and severed the bonds with a jerk. Launching up, sword in hand, he whirled back to where Daran attempted to stand and threw himself on the man’s back. His knees pinned the man’s arms to the ground, and he slid the sword under Daran’s neck.
Grunting for air, Daran began to struggle, but he froze when the blade bit keenly into skin. Panic numbed his limbs. It could not end like this. Not after everything.
The other hunter had taken several paces back, dragging Tellie’s body with him, his knife still at her neck. His eyes were wide in his pale face, but his body was coiled to strike. “You kill Daran and she’s dead!”
“Kill her and you are both dead,” Errance snarled.
Silent, they eyed another, weighing their own threats. The man pulled Tellie tighter and Errance ground Daran deeper into the dirt.
Flecks of earth caught in Daran’s eye, and he wrenched his head about till he could lay it sideways. Every dreadful oath he willed upon the entire race of elves. “You can’t win this one, boy,” he spat. “We may not be able to kill the girl if we want to live, but we can maim her until you submit. Lorm, take her eyes if he doesn’t drop this sword in ten.”
The sword bit harder to his throat, the hand holding it trembling. “Anything you do to her will be done to you tenfold!”
The truth of the threat turned Daran’s bones cold, and his heart faltered. Had he not heard the legends of his prisoner, how he could kill even with both hands chained above his head? Was there any method of torture the elf did not intimately know? But no, Daran would not be threatened by his own prey.
“Do it,” he growled, teeth baring. “But vengeance isn’t going to heal that girl. You want to be responsible for her blindness…the scars across her fresh little face…”
It was a gamble. A dreadful gamble playing on a heart this prisoner should not even have.
And it worked.
With a gasped curse, Errance dropped the sword. He rocked off Daran’s back and bowed over his knee, hands digging into the dirt.
Daran pushed upright and found the rope again. But he had not taken so much as a step toward the elf, when Errance said, “You have the girl. That’s enough of a chain.”
No, it wasn’t. It was a chain as long they didn’t let their guard down for even a second. Daran knew the risk was high and so did this elf. Yet this was not the time to argue. There was no telling when that strange flying creature would return.
Grinding his teeth, he tucked the rope away. “You realize if you try to escape the girl is of no use to us.”
Errance swallowed. “Yes.”
Nervously glancing at his accomplice, Daran sidled to the elf’s side. He took his arm again and pulled him up, shoving in the direction of the deeper forest.
For a moment, Errance did not respond. His eyes flickered to Tellie one last time and then the blue sky peeking between the boughs. And then his shoulders sagged, and he walked where his captors willed.
oOo
As the sun began to set and shadows blanketed the forest floor, The Daisha soared back into the clearing with much groaning and griping.
“It wasn’t that bad, was it?” Kelm said with a laugh. His skin still shone several shades paler than normal and his hands shook, but the grin would not leave his face. Flying. Incredible—more incredible than he could have ever dreamed.
“My wings are wilting!” The Daisha snapped. “When I die of exhaustion, I hope you’re satisfied!”
“Oh, enough of your griping,” Tryss said, swatting her playfully. “You enjoyed every minute of it or else you wouldn’t have given us so much time.” She slipped to the ground as soon as they landed and swept towards the glade where they had left the others, calling, “Sorry we took so long!”
“I sure hope they’ve got a fire going,” Kelm said, shivering.
“No smoke scent. They must want me to freeze to death,” The Daisha complained, extending neck high into the air and drawing a long sniff. Her nostrils flared and her body went rigid. “Tryss,” she said voice low and alarmed. “Tryss, come back—”
There was a sharp cry, muffled, horrified.
Gasping, Kelm rushed after Tryss, The Daisha overtaking him with a single bound. But Tryss was already racing back towards them, eyes wild. “They’re not there,” she panted. “They’re not there, and that creature is!”
“What creature?” Kelm and The Daisha demanded at once, shoving forward.
“No, Kelm, don’t look,” Tryss exclaimed, grabbing him. But it was too late. He stared down at a stiff, grey body scantily clad in dark armor, fingers tipped with claws, and hideous face contorted so that the fangs were clenched in a leer. It had no eyes anymore. Just empty sockets.
“Is that…isn’t that that thing?” Kelm whispered. He tried to bend in for a better look, but Tryss pulled him away.
“A shard.” The Daisha poked the body in disgust.
“It’s not just any shard,” Tryss whispered. “That is the one from the band pursuing us. Daran found us. Tellie and Errance must be hiding.”
“Or they got caught,” Kelm said shakily.
“Don’t! They have to be nearby. The Daisha, what can you smell?”
“Dead blood,” The Daisha said, moving over into the brush and pawing a body free of brambles. “Another of your enemies, I take it. My elf kills cleanly.”
She sniffed again, and after a few tense moments, her eyes flew wide. “Both of you, quick, onto my back!” As soon as they leapt on, she bolted from the ground with speed unlike any yet experienced. Her body sped like an arrow over the forest top, wings slashing the air. When she dove back to the ground, they were nearly unseated at the hard landing.
“Sorcery!” The Daisha cried. “The foulest stench of all!”
Kelm stared at the circle burnt black into the earth’s surface a little distance from them, smoke still rising from its lines. “What is it?” he whispered. But he already knew. He’d been blindfolded the last time he’d been near such a mark and so of course had never seen it. But the tremor in the air shook his bones in the exact same way.
“A Nyght portal,” The Daisha growled. “They have been taken back into Darkness.”
29
oOo
Wind sings a sad and cold lullaby. The sound of it shivers the soul and awakens the senses.
As the song grew louder in Tellie’s ears, her consciousness uncurled and began to reach out in the darkness. Her body ached from lying in an arched position over a hard ridge that swayed and jerked. By instinct she began to struggle, but a dart of pain stabbed through her head, and she stopped in bewilderment. Something had happened, something terrible, but it was hard to think through the pain splintering her brain. Holding her breath, she opened her eyes. All she saw was the ground passing underneath her. She was being carried on someone’s shoulders like a sack of feed. How humiliating! Once again, she started to squirm.
Moonscript (Kings of Aselvia Book 1) Page 35