Chapter 22
Twenty-Two
Vaskel heard the elf encampment before the colorful tents behind the tavern came into view.
Lute music mixed with the warble of an ostrich and the gentle bubbling of voices overpowering the gurgle of the icy stream.
The sun dipped below the trees, casting a pink glow over the snow-encrusted branches and dappling light onto the peaked tents arranged around a central fire.
Glen’s head swung toward them as they trudged closer, his warble edging toward a screech. A tent flap adorned with gold tassels and elaborate embroidery fluttered open, and Erindil emerged in robes of thick white fur that made his silver blonde hair look even more ethereal.
“My dear niece! And the charming Vaskel!" His sharp features softened at the sight of them. "What a delightful surprise!"
He gestured grandly toward his tent. "You must join me inside. We can't have a proper conversation standing about in the cold."
Even though the camp wasn’t as cold as the rest of the village thanks to an elvish enchantment, Vaskel followed the regal elf and Lira into the tent.
The space was larger than it should have been, no doubt due to more elvish enchantment, and its opulence put any home in Wayside to shame.
Lush carpets in deep jewel tones overlapped on the floor, with gilded furniture perched on top.
Peacock feathers burst from vases like blooms, and Vaskel wouldn’t have been surprised to see attendants fanning them.
Erindil settled into a high-backed chair, its gold leaf catching the light from the crystal chandelier suspended from the center of the tent. He gestured to a velvet tufted settee across from him, and Vaskel and Lira both sank into the cushioning, their knees almost bumping their ears.
Vaskel tried to adjust himself so he didn’t tip over onto the carpets, but ended up settling on bracing himself with one arm with his tail curled around the furniture leg to catch him.
A few moments of silence passed before Erindil fastened his gaze on Vaskel and cleared his throat. "Dark magic again, is it?"
Vaskel shouldn’t have been startled. After all, elves were known for their highly attuned intuition. He also suspected that after observing people for thousands of years, you’d become an expert at reading them. Still, it was unsettling to think that the elf sensed a darkness on him.
"No," Lira answered for him. "It's a soul bind."
"Ah." Erindil nodded deliberately, the twitching of his fingers the only sign of piqued interest. "May I see?"
There was no point in hesitating. Vaskel pushed up his sleeve, revealing the marks that wound up his arm like malevolent vines.
Erindil leaned forward, studying the marks and humming, occasionally tilting his head to view them from different angles. His fingers hovered above the marks but never quite touched, as if he didn’t want to touch the enchantment.
"Fascinating," he murmured. "The binding work is quite sophisticated. Infernal power at its most intricate." Then he sat back, his fingers steepled under his chin. "I've seen this before."
Lira sagged with relief beside Vaskel, her shoulder bumping his. "You have?"
"Oh yes. Not often, mind you. Soul binds are old magic, the kind most modern hellkins have forgotten. But in my years..." He waved a hand vaguely, unwilling as always to specify exactly how many years those were. "Let's say I've encountered my share of ancient curses."
"Can you break it?" Vaskel asked, hope and desperation warring in his voice.
Erindil leaned back, curling his willowy fingers over the gold armrests of his chair. “It will not be easy to sever the bind, but..." He paused dramatically, because of course he did, “I might be able to do it."
Vaskel's heart lurched. “Might?”
Erindil drummed his fingers rhythmically.
“I’ve never done it before, of course. Should I remind you I’m no mage, and my powers don’t extend to infernal magic?
” His stern expression relaxed into a hint of a smile.
“Not that elvish enchantments are anything to sneeze at, and I’m more than willing to try.
I will need use of the dear apothecary's workshop.”
"Anything you need," Lira said immediately. "I know Iris would say the same. She's been working on this for days."
"Excellent." Erindil's attention returned to Vaskel, and something in his gaze sharpened. "But first, dear boy, I must know how you came to be bound. The nature of the binding, the circumstances, the one who holds the other end—these details matter immensely."
Vaskel sighed. He'd told this story to Iris and to Lira, but if confession was the price of freedom, he'd tell it a hundred times more. He opened his mouth to begin when an ostrich shriek split the air.
Vaskel and Lira wrestled with the settee and each other as they struggled to get to their feet. The last time they’d heard Glen screech like that, a dragon had been circling overhead.