Chapter 26 Svenn #2
Commander Eidith steps forward, hand on her sword. "He'll take you into fae territory and hand you over to Eirik Bloodhound. This is obviously a trap."
"I'm willing to take that risk."
"We are not!" Another lord shouts. "The security of Aelfheim—"
"My wife is dying!" The roar tears from my throat, my control finally snapping. Shadows writhe around me and the nobles step back. "None of you can save her. Your healers have failed. Your magic has failed. Everything you've tried has failed!"
I start walking, Hrolf beside me. The path ahead is blocked by armed knights.
"Step aside," I say quietly.
The commanders move to block us more firmly. "You can't just—"
I feel the darkness rising in me, the monsters stirring beneath my skin. The knights must see it in my eyes, see death looking back at them. Several hands move to sword hilts.
I'll kill them all if I have to. Every single one standing between me and saving her.
"I'll go with them."
Eyepatch's voice cuts through the tension. He steps forward from the crowd. "I'll accompany them. Make sure the dwarf doesn't try anything."
"As will I." Red moves to stand beside him. "If the dwarf tries to escape or lead us into danger, we'll kill him ourselves. You have our word."
Despite the assurance from Rhianelle's two most loyal knights, the nobles remain stubborn. They cluster together, whispering, blocking the path.
Cut through them. The beasts inside me suggest. Paint the walls with their blood. Show them what happens when they stand between you and her salvation.
"I have a decree."
Shade's voice cuts through the chaos like a blade. The Grimsbane moves through the crowd, passing something to Lord Ctibor. A sealed letter. I glimpse the Wiolant crest in silver wax.
"This is Lord Rainer Wiolant's order," Shade says. "Signed and sealed by your custodian. Let them go. Give them whatever they need."
Lord Ctibor breaks the seal and reads. His face goes through several emotions before settling on grim acceptance. "Very well. By order of Lord Rainer Wiolant, acting regent of Volundr in the queen's incapacity... they are permitted to leave. May the seventy-seven gods go with you."
The nobles and Aldarelfs reluctantly part, though their disapproval hangs heavy in the air.
"Let me come with you," Shade says to me.
A low whine rises from the black wolf. He presses against my leg, hackles lifting as his gaze fixes on Red. A warning rumble builds in his chest. He means to follow. I forgot that this is one of Rhianelle's strays. He means to guard and help us.
"Your dog will slow us down," Hrolf says bluntly. Before Shade can argue, he adds, "Besides, more people would attract attention. The fae are skittish during war. A large group would send them deeper into hiding."
Shade looks like he wants to protest. But he nods. "You need to save her."
"We will," Aelfric says firmly. "We'll find this healer and he'll cure her."
He has to. Because the alternative is unthinkable.
"We'll meet you at the south gate," Garrett adds, already turning toward the courtyard. "Give us an hour to gather supplies."
I incline my head. "One hour."
Mortals need food and water for long journeys. I can't have my guide dying of thirst or hunger before we reach our destination.
I use the time to return to the healing house to say goodbye to Rhianelle.
Rhianelle is asleep when I enter her room. Rainer has left, finally convinced to rest by the healers. She's alone except for the single healer monitoring her condition.
"Give us a moment," I say to the healer.
She nods and slips out quietly.
"Rhianelle," I whisper, moving to her bedside.
I reach for her hand. It's warm but the heat isn't from her. It's from the warm blanket the healers change every hour to keep her body temperature stable. I press her hand to my lips anyway.
She doesn't stir. Her breathing remains shallow and labored.
But she's still here. It means she hasn't given up.
"I have to leave for a while," I tell her, even though she can't hear me. "Hrolf knows someone who might be able to help. A healer in Avalon. I'm going to find him and bring him back. You just have to hold on a little longer. Can you do that for me?"
No response. Just the steady, too-slow beat of her heart.
Coinneach materializes from my shadow.
"Stay with her," I tell him.
I will keep her safe, my familiar promises.
"If anything changes—"
I will take you back in an instant, he assures me. Now go. Save our little fawn.
The shadow thins, retreating to the far corner of the room.
I press one more kiss to Rhianelle's hand. Her skin is cool beneath my lips. Then I make myself step away. If I linger, I will not leave.
Within the hour, we're ready to depart. Eyepatch and Red have gathered supplies for the journey. Dried rations, water skins, and weapons. Hrolf has been given similar gear, though he insisted on keeping his own boots.
We take Noctrals as far as they'll go. They carry us swiftly through the elven territories, their hooves barely touching the ground. Hrolf sits his mount with surprising ease for someone who spent months in a cell.
The landscape changes as we travel south and west. The neat farmlands around Volundr give way to wilder country. Forests grow denser and the hills become steeper. The very air takes on a different quality, thick with old magic.
Shadows stretch and deepen the farther we go. Even the wind sounds different here, carrying whispers in strange languages.
We cross into Avalon as the sun reaches its zenith.
The change is immediate and unmistakable. The trees do not grow straight. Their trunks coil slowly around themselves, bark gleaming with a wet emerald sheen. A stream cuts across the path ahead, but the water runs uphill, slipping over stone in defiance of gravity.
Fae land is where all rules end.
"We walk from here," Hrolf says as we reach the edge of mapped territories. "Where we're going, not even the Noctrals can follow. The paths wind through spaces they can't navigate."
"How far?" Eyepatch demands, already dismounting.
"Four days if we're careful. Three if we push hard."
"We don't have three days," Red says quietly. "She doesn't have three days."
"Then we'd better move fast." Hrolf shoulders his pack. "This way. And stay close. The paths like to shift when you're not looking."
I feel the weight of every step as we begin walking. Each one takes us deeper into the unknown. The dwarf could be leading us to salvation or to our doom.
But I don't care anymore. I'd follow this path to the very edges of the world if it meant saving her.
We walk single file through terrain that makes no sense. Hrolf leads, navigating by landmarks only he can see. Eyepatch follows close behind with one hand always near his sword. Red brings up the rear, his eyes flicking to every shadow and every movement.
It hasn't rained but the air clings damp against our skin. The ground beneath our feet changes from dirt to moss. The trees watch us pass with eyes hidden in their bark.
Hrolf leads us through dead thickets that reach for us with brittle branches. He mutters dwarven curses under his breath every time his boots sink into mud that tries to hold him. He moves with surprising agility for someone weakened by imprisonment and blood loss.
"How do you know these trails?" Eyepatch demands after we crest a ravine that shouldn't exist according to any map. "These paths aren't on any charts I've seen."
"Smuggling routes," Hrolf replies simply, not breaking stride. "During the rebellion days. I've walked these paths in my mind a thousand times, planning supply lines, escape routes."
A faint, humorless smile touches his mouth. "Planning how to bring your kingdom to its knees."
His honesty lands hard.
The knights say nothing, but their hands hover closer to their weapons as we press deeper into the ravine. Wind howls up from below, carrying the distant roar of water. The path deteriorates as we climb, the ground becoming loose shale that shifts underfoot without warning.
Eyepatch is two steps ahead of me when the ledge gives way beneath his boot. He pitches forward toward the ravine. Shadow lashes from my hand, snapping around his wrist and hauling him backward. Pebbles rain into the abyss below.
"Careful, Aelfric," I say absently.
He pauses.
Eyepatch—Aelfric inhales sharply, then nods once. "Appreciated."
"Stay close to the wall," Hrolf says from ahead, not looking back.
The shale cliff narrows to nothing and then simply ends, crumbling into a jagged slope that spills into shadow. Beyond it, a denser forest begins. The trees rise close together, trunks twisted and thick with moss. Their branches knit overhead until daylight thins to a greenish gloom.
I look at the three of them. At Aelfric shaking dirt from his gauntlet, at Garrett adjusting his shield, at Hrolf already scanning the path ahead.
They follow without hesitation.
For her.
"Aelfric. Garrett. Hrolf." I clear my throat. "You didn't have to do this. I won't forget that."
They stop.
All three stare at me as though I've spoken in another language.
Garrett is the first to recover, a crooked smirk tugging at his mouth. "You can still call me Red, you know."
"Let's keep moving," the other knight adds lightly. "Before you promote us any further."
We camp that first night in the ruins of what was once a trading post. The walls are scorched black, the roof long since collapsed. Dark stains mark the ground where blood once pooled. Whether elven or dwarven or fae, I can't tell.
Night in the fae-wilds doesn't sleep. Even in the quiet, everything stirs. Mist rolls slowly between the trees, moving with purpose. Branches whisper without breeze and things move just beyond the firelight, never close enough to see clearly.
"Wake me in three hours," Garrett mutters with exhaustion.
Hrolf settles opposite me, hat pulled low over his eyes. Within minutes, his breathing evens out into sleep.
Every moment we rest is a moment Rhianelle slips further away. But Hrolf insisted we couldn't navigate the paths safely in darkness. The fae-wilds are dangerous enough in daylight.
Hold on, I whisper to Rhianelle silently.
Dawn comes reluctantly in Avalon, the light arriving gray through the canopy. We break camp quickly and march hard. Hrolf sets a punishing pace and neither knight complains. We're all thinking the same thing.
She is running out of time.