36. Harper
36
Harper spun around, almost falling on the uneven rocks. She glared up at the bluff, squinting into the sun. Two silhouettes leapt down with inhuman agility. She gasped when they left the sun’s piercing corona. Elves. Both armed and dressed in slim-fitting dark clothes that camouflaged them amongst the foliage. Braids contained their long, mahogany hair and their golden eyes were narrow and hostile—yet they hung back with an edge of wariness whilst they took her in, as though they expected her to be trouble.
“Where is it?” the taller, female elf snarled. She stalked closer, a long, slim blade pointed directly toward Harper. Harper inched back, bumping into the rock where her cloak lay. With her hand behind her back, she fumbled for the knife. The elf’s male companion, armed with a bow—which was drawn, an arrow nocked and pointed toward her heart—circled away from them both to cut her off from running.
“Where’s what?” Harper asked, turning slightly to try and keep an eye on both of them at once. Every nerve in her was alight, and her body trembling on the edge of bolting, because there was no way she would be able to match them in combat.
“You know what,” the male elf answered. “We’ve tracked you this far. We know you to be with the thief and his pack. Where is the aleilah?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Harper said guardedly, but her heart thundered and her nerves shot with lightning. Do they mean the Dragonheart? “I’m an innocent traveller.”
“Ha!” the female elf scoffed. “No one who runs with the Thief of Pelenor is innocent, but I shall give you a choice. Where is the elf, or the aleilah?” she said, leaping across the stream to land feet away from Harper.
Harper backed against the cliff, cursing silently that she had run out of options. There was nowhere to go. She rolled the knife around in her palm. It was utterly inadequate. “Look, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I was travelling with them. I take no part in their affairs.”
“Was?” the male cocked his head.
His sister scowled. “She lies. You’re still with them. Their trail does not leave this area. I know they’re close—I can taste it. I will not be denied him now. I owe him thanks for the merry little chase he’s led us on, and for the damage he caused our beloved Tir-na-Alathea.”
With an icy rush, Harper realised who they were from the snippets Aedon had shared. These are the elves who held the antidote. The ones Aedon stole from.
“If you won’t tell me voluntarily, I’ll draw it from you!” The female elf thrust a clawed hand toward Harper. An invisible force ripped Brand’s knife from her hands. It spun through the air and landed far from her reach with a clang upon the pebbles. Before she could react, the elf’s attention returned to her, and pain shot through her like lightning.
Harper screamed, unable to hold it in. It was like nothing she had felt before. An unbearable burn that seared through her. A moment later, it passed. She slumped to the ground as all strength in her body left with it.
“Tell us where the thief is.” The she-elf advanced.
Harper bared her teeth. If they thought she would tell them before, that was no way to persuade her. “Go to hell!” As the next wave of pain hit her, she tensed, screeching through gritted teeth as it wracked her body with great shudders, the power making her limbs involuntarily dance. It sent her crumbling to her knees.
“Tell me!” the she-elf screeched.
Her companion took over. Using invisible hands of magic, he lifted Harper from the ground and slammed her against the wall of rock. Its rough grit dug through the thin overshirt. All the air was knocked from her body and she gasped for breath. Her chest burned as she slid down. He loomed over her, casting his bow aside. One strong hand hauled her up by the neck with ease and shoved her against the rock, whilst the other pressed the gleaming, sharp point of an arrow into her throat.
“I suggest you tell my sister what she wishes to know,” he said in a low, even voice. His eyes ensnared her. They were liquid amber, but cold and entirely devoid of emotion. “It will not go well for you if you resist.”
Harper spat into his face. He quickly masked the flicker of anger, but she had seen it. Despite her pain, a smugness rose. “I can’t tell you what I don’t know,” she said, enunciating every word with the small amount of breath she had.
“Enough! Get out of the way!” His sister bodily pushed him aside and stood before Harper, her blade raised. Suddenly, her eyes widened. “Unh!” she grunted in surprise, looking down at the arrowhead protruding from her collarbone.
Her companion whirled around. As Harper slumped to the ground, fading in and out of consciousness, familiar silhouettes loomed on the other side of the stream. Relief flooded her.
A roar she barely recognised, far fiercer than any she had ever heard emanate from him, washed over her as Brand’s huge form launched across the stream. He crashed into the she-elf, who went down screeching. Aedon, Ragnar, and Erika targeted her companion. Aedon shot a hail of arrows at the elf, who leapt out of the way. Not fast enough to avoid Erika— she barrelled into him and sent him crashing into the cliff face.
Ragnar rushed to Harper’s aid. With surprising strength, he hauled her to her feet and dragged her away, supporting her body with his. Behind them, the screams of the she-elf receded as she dashed into the forest with rivulets of blood pouring from her whilst Erika gave furious chase. The male elf was lost in a clash of metal as he engaged with Brand, and she presumed Aedon. Ragnar rushed her back to camp, setting her down by the fire.
“Harper, can you hear me?” His voice faded in and out. “Harper?”
It hurt too much. Harper’s eyes closed as she sighed, and everything faded into blackness.