Chapter 36 #2
Rell stepped into the clearing with all the casual confidence of a man strolling into his own parlor. No stealth. No subtlety. He wanted them to see him coming.
"Evening, gentlemen," he called out, his voice carrying that familiar cocky edge. "Lovely night for a massacre, don't you think?"
The effect was immediate. All five Snatchers froze, their heads snapping toward him with expressions that shifted from confusion to recognition to something approaching terror. One of them actually took a step backward.
"The Reaper," one whispered, the words carrying through the camp like a curse.
Elora blinked in surprise. The Reaper? She'd known Rell hunted Snatchers, but she hadn't realized he'd earned himself a reputation.
"Oh, you've heard of me," Rell said, thumbs tucked under his belt. "How flattering."
Beneath the cockiness, Elora could sense the rage simmering just under his controlled surface, like magma waiting to erupt. He was enjoying this—the fear in their eyes, the way they scrambled for their weapons—but there was something darker driving him. Something that wanted to make them suffer.
The three Snatchers around the fire stood up slowly, hands moving to their weapons, but they stayed close together near the flames.
The fourth stayed near the horses, though his movements had become jerky and nervous.
The fifth—the one who'd been leering at the caged girl—began scanning the perimeter with sharp, suspicious eyes.
"Must be six of us to one of you," one of the men by the fire said, trying to inject confidence into his voice. "Not good odds for you, Reaper."
"Six?" Rell laughed, the sound cold and amused. "I count five. Unless you're including the girl in your numbers, which would be pathetic even for you bastards."
Elora crept around the edge of the camp, sticking to the tree’s shadows, positioning herself behind the fire. The three men were focused entirely on Rell, backs to her. She pulled out a combustion potion and hurled it into the flames.
The potion shattered against the burning logs with a soft pop. Then… explosion.
Flames roared upward, engulfing the three Snatchers in super-heated air. They screamed, staggered forward, clothes smoking, but they didn't fall. Their enchanted armor protected them from the worst of it.
Damn.
Rell's hand moved in a blur. His throwing knife sprouted from the nearest Snatcher's eye. The man dropped.
The other two charged with furious roars. Steel rang against steel as Rell met their attack.
"He's got help!" The guard by the cage was moving toward the trees, scanning the shadows. "Someone else threw that potion!"
Elora's heart hammered as he approached her position. When he was close enough to spot her, she hurled a decoy potion in the opposite direction.
Running footsteps echoed from the far side of camp. The Snatcher's head snapped toward the sound and he took off, shouting about flankers.
Elora sprinted for the cage, despite having to step into the glow of the fire. The girl inside was pressed against the corner, eyes wide with terror.
"It's going to be okay," Elora gasped, pulling out a corrosive potion. "I'm here to help."
She poured acid over the lock. It hissed and bubbled, eating through metal. Behind her was a clash of blades.
A pained shout made her whip around. Rell had shoved one man to the ground but couldn't finish him before the other was on him again, nearly slicing his throat. The downed Snatcher was scrambling to his feet.
Elora hurled her sticky potion. It burst against the man's chest, thick resin spreading across his armor and the ground beneath him. He struggled frantically but only sank deeper.
The lock crumbled. She yanked the cage door open and grabbed the girl's hand.
"Come on!"
The teenager took it with trembling fingers. Elora helped her down from the wagon, felt a rush of triumph—
Rell grunted in pain behind her.
Before she could turn, the girl shoved her hard and bolted for the horses.
Elora tripped on a protruding stone and hit the dirt. A shadow fell across her vision. She looked up to see a sixth Snatcher—one they'd missed—standing over her with a massive war hammer raised.
No, no, no!
She threw herself sideways as the hammer came down, crushing earth where her head had been. The man raised it again, hardly straining from the weight of it.
Desperate, Elora kicked his knee. He stumbled, balance wavering just long enough for her to smash a nature elemental potion against the ground.
The effect was immediate. She could suddenly feel the earth beneath her feet, sense the network of roots connecting every tree. Like having a hundred new limbs.
Roots, she commanded. Now.
The ground erupted around the Snatcher's feet. Thick roots burst up, wrapped around his legs like grasping fingers. He shouted, swinging his hammer wildly, but more roots emerged, climbing higher. Should have had a sword.
Pull him down.
The roots obeyed, dragging him toward the ground with inexorable strength.
Tighter. Around his neck.
Woody tendrils coiled around his throat. His eyes bulged, struggles growing weaker as she watched the life drain from his face.
She was killing him. Actually taking a life.
And she didn't know if she could—
A boot crunched down on the man's skull.
Rell stood over the body, swaying slightly. A dagger jutted from his side, blood soaking through his shirt.
Elora moved to his side, slipping her arm around his waist to steady him. "Come on. By the fire."
She guided him toward where the Snatchers had been sitting. The flames had died down to a controlled burn now, casting steady light and warmth across the clearing. Rell sank onto one of the logs they'd been using as seats, his breathing shallow.
Elora pulled a healing draught from her hip pouch, the liquid glowing faintly blue in the firelight. "Shirt off," she said, clinically, despite the way her heart was still racing.
Rell didn't argue. He ripped his shirt around the hilt and carefully removed the fabric over his head with a grimace. Blood had spread across his tan skin, dark and wet.
Elora grabbed a relatively clean piece of fabric from the scattered belongings of their enemies—probably part of a shirt or cloak that hadn't seen too much use. She poured the healing draught onto the cloth, letting it soak through the fibers.
"This is going to hurt," she warned, then gripped the dagger's hilt firmly.
Rell's jaw tightened, but he nodded.
She pulled the blade free in one smooth motion. Blood welled immediately from the wound, but she was ready, pressing the draught-soaked cloth against it before he could lose too much.
After a few minutes, the bleeding had stopped. Elora pulled out a small tin of healing salve and spread it carefully over the wound, her fingers gentle against his skin. Then came the numbing bandage, which she wrapped around his torso with efficient movements.
An intimate quiet settled between them. The only sounds were the crackling fire and Rell's controlled breathing as she worked. Elora had expected some of his usual dry humor, a quip about her bedside manner or a joke about the situation they'd found themselves in. Instead, he just watched her.
His gray eyes were intent, studying her face with an expression she couldn't quite read.
Like something about her in this moment had rendered him speechless.
She finished tying off the wound and let her hands linger for a second, fingers pressed to his bare skin.
The smell of blood and sweat, the heat of his body, the way he kept looking at her—all of it sent her pulse into a staccato, animal rhythm.
"Elora…" Rell said, voice hoarse.
She couldn't ignore the tight knot that formed in her stomach when Rell's fingers brushed her wrist, holding her hand against his side.
She had to look away, but the heat crawling up her neck reached her cheeks. Her eyes caught sight of another scar just a bit lower on his side. Similar placement, similar size, clearly from another blade.
"You've been stabbed here before," she observed, her fingertips brushing the old scar tissue.
Rell's expression darkened slightly. "Yeah. Also from Snatchers."
"What happened?"
He was quiet for a moment, staring into the fire. "Tried to save someone. Got a dagger in the side when I failed." His voice was matter-of-fact, but she could hear the old pain beneath it. "Nearly killed me. Somehow I lived."
Elora's hands stilled on the bandage. "Who were you trying to save?"
"Just... someone who needed saving." He met her eyes again, and she saw the weight of old failures there. "Someone I couldn't get to in time."
She understood then—the controlled fury she'd seen in him all day, the way he'd moved through the forest like a man possessed. This wasn't just about justice or revenge. It was about all the people he hadn't been able to save.
"Well," she said softly, "you saved someone tonight."
Rell's lips curved in a small, sad smile. "Did I? She ran off the moment you freed her."
"She's alive and free. That's what matters."
Rell pulled his shirt back on, and Elora was surprised by the sharp pang of disappointment she felt watching the fabric cover his chest and shoulders. She quickly pushed the feeling aside, focusing instead on packing away her remaining supplies.
Already she could see his strength returning, and with it came his typical way of burying pain beneath humor and action. He stood carefully, testing his balance, then began moving around the camp with purpose.
"Might as well see what these bastards were hoarding."
He rifled through their belongings. There was a tent pitched near the fire with a bedroll inside that looked relatively clean. Sacks of food were stacked nearby—dried meat, hard bread, and bottles of what smelled like cheap alcohol.
"Look at this," Rell called, gesturing toward where the horses had been tethered. One still remained, a sturdy-looking mare that eyed them warily but didn't bolt. "The detour was worth it just for this. We can ride the rest of the way instead of walking."
Elora shifted uncomfortably as she watched him settle into the camp like he was taking ownership of it. "Shouldn't we leave? What if more of them show up?"
Rell shook his head, uncorking one of the bottles and taking a cautious sniff. "I've never seen a group larger than ten, and we already killed their friends yesterday. Trust me, we got all of them."
Despite his confidence, Elora felt the familiar pull of her other form. She shocked herself by giving in to it, letting the change wash over her as her senses sharpened. Her hearing became acute, able to pick up sounds from much farther away. If anyone was approaching through the woods, she'd know.
She settled by the fire in her shifted form, golden-ringed eyes scanning the tree line. Rell glanced at her but didn't comment, instead rummaging through the food supplies.
"Here," he said, tossing her a piece of dried meat. "You must be hungry after all that."
Elora caught it. "Thanks."
Rell sat across from her, his own piece of meat in hand. "You were amazing back there, you know."
Heat rose to Elora's cheeks. "You're the one who actually killed them."
"Are you kidding?" Rell leaned forward, his gray eyes intense.
"I couldn't have done any of that without you.
That combustion potion bought me the opening I needed.
Your sticky trap kept me from getting overwhelmed.
And when that bastard with the hammer had you pinned.
.." He shook his head. "Watching you command those roots like that? It was incredible."
Elora's blush deepened. She wasn't used to praise for anything other than her alchemy skills in the traditional sense—healing potions and academic theory. Having someone recognize her power in combat felt strange and wonderful.
"You saved me multiple times tonight," Rell continued. "See, what did I say? You don't need to be shifted to be powerful. You don't need claws and fangs to protect yourself."
Elora looked down at her hands, bearing the subtle changes of her shifted form, but she could feel the truth in his words settling into her bones.
Tonight she'd fought with her mind, her knowledge, her creativity.
She'd turned her alchemy into weapons and shields, had bent nature itself to her will.
"Thank you," she said quietly, meeting his eyes. "For showing me that I could do more than just... this." She gestured to her shifted features.
Rell's expression softened. "You've always been more than that, Elora. You just needed to see it for yourself."