Chapter 25
S upper was large rat-looking creatures with black fur, red eyes, and sharp pointed teeth, which she did not complain about, even though the sight of them gave her the shivers, along with the fact that it was rodent meat.
They roasted the skinned creatures over an open fire, and the mercenaries sprinkled some malaas seasoning over them.
The meat didn’t have enough fat on it to be delicious, but the smell of the spices activated her taste buds.
She ate her supper without complaint, and it turned out to be quite acceptable despite her earlier reservation.
After, they sat by the fire and drank Dark Elf wine that tasted of elderberries. One of the mercenaries, Briza’s former benefactor, picked up a lute and plucked a tune. It was a tavern song that was hearty, fun, and good for getting feet to tap to the rhythm.
Briza stood up with gusto. “I want to dance.” She held a hand toward Aelrie and bowed. “Dance with me, fair lady.”
“No, no,” Aelrie said, shaking her head. “I can’t.”
A chorus of boos came from the mercenaries. “Come on,” Briza coaxed. “No one cares about formalities here. ”
Aelrie stared at Briza’s outstretched hand and smiled as a response. The wine was starting to get to her. She didn’t get to do much drinking as a temple guard. “One dance,” she answered.
“We’ll see about that.” Briza laughed as she took Aelrie’s hand.
They stood in front of each other. Briza started skipping and tapping her feet to the beat, and Aelrie followed.
Someone shouted and clapped.
“Look at you!” Briza exclaimed. “Can’t dance. Pshaw!”
Aelrie laughed, letting herself get lost in the music.
She passed a glance at Shikra and saw him laughing at something a mercenary told him.
He then caught her eye, and his smile faded.
She looked away, perturbed, but did not let it ruin her night.
It had been a long time since she was able to have this much fun, since last Midsummer’s Eve.
After more drinking and dancing, the mercenaries tucked into their tents for the night.
Shikra waited for her by their tents, placed outside the ring of tents belonging to the mercenaries.
He leaned against a rock wall as she approached him, casually flipping one of his blades around in one hand in an idle fashion.
He stopped and sheathed it once she was close enough to see the scowl on his face.
“These mercenaries ask too many questions,” he told her in a low voice as if chastising her and not them. “We could’ve been nearly to Myrkheim by now if you hadn’t run out and exposed yourself and your healing power to everyone. ”
“You need to get back to Myrkheim that badly.” She stretched her shoulders, straightening her back and puffing out her chest. “Why is that exactly? To report your murder of my high priestess to your master.”
Shikra narrowed his eyes at her but did not answer that question. “I told you not to get involved. And what do you immediately do after?”
“You forget,” she hissed, the wine making her head feel fuzzy. “I am not your slave. I do not act as commanded.” She enunciated every word. “These mercenaries, who were kind enough to share their camp with us, would be dead now if it weren’t for me. Would that make you happy?”
“If it wasn’t for me , you mean. I was the one who killed the spider.”
How arrogant. She started to see more of this Dark Elf nobility in him.
“That you said the other Dark Elf ‘sons of great Houses’ could take care of anyway because they’re the only ones who can use magic.” She put too much sarcasm into that, but she got the effect she desired. Riling him up.
“Do you even want to escape the Evergloom? You’ve certainly caught a lot of attention so far. Are you doing everything in your power to get trapped down here for good, or are you doing this just to annoy me? Either way, it’s working.”
She turned from him and stomped off to her tent, dragging it as far away from his tent as she could, to the outer edge of the camp.
“What are you doing?” he asked, bringing his arm out. “Don’t be ridiculous. ”
She turned to him, voice livid. “Going to bed. And don’t you dare try to worm your way into my tent tonight!” Turning up her nose and fumbling into her tent, she slammed the leather flap to close it, but it just flopped open again. Teeth grinding, she picked it back up slowly and closed it gently.
He didn’t deserve a second chance tonight, even though he probably thought her tantrum was the result of her being overly emotional.
Lying down on the fur mat was soft on her back, which relished the chance, not having to carry her burdens at least for a brief respite.
How could he not see that life had meaning?
He killed Lindana because she was his “mark.” Taking life was no different for him than taking a bath, something done without a second thought because it was second nature.
And he was willing to watch these mercenaries, who were the kindest Dark Elves she’d met in the Evergloom, die just so they wouldn’t have to get involved.
He was everything she wasn’t. It wasn’t even a matter of different perspectives, either. Taking life and not giving the life of others respect was wrong. And the only life he cared about was his own.
No.
Hers too. Why was that?
Why did she care so much about it? What was he to her? He was supposed to be a means to an end, her revenge. Why did it feel so much more than that now? Was it because of the intimacy they shared? Surely that was only lust .
Her mind flittered about as her body tossed and turned. The fur mat was comfortable even on the hard stone ground, but these questions plagued her, making it impossible for her to quiet her mind and find sleep.
Though mental exhaustion, much more taxing than physical, overtook her, and she fell into a fitful sleep. When she opened her eyes, there was a pink haze clouding her vision.
But it was not from the wine, nor from a dream …
There was also a feeling. A presence in her tent. It was then she saw a Dark Elf face loom over her, parting this fog in her mind.
It was a male. A face she hadn’t seen before.
She should panic, primal instinct demanded she do. But her body wouldn’t move, at least not when she willed it to. The last thought she had before she drifted off into a strange, dream-filled sleep was, “Where am I headed?”