Chapter 36
V oices came from a chamber. Falco was leading her there, still on a taut leash like an unruly pet. The corridor circling the chamber was dark, the crystals muted. More purple lights came from the circular chamber, coming through slivers in the wall, windows shaped like blades.
A female voice echoed through the windows as well. She sounded older but not elderly, and sultry, but with a note of feigned disinterest. “Kite told me the most interesting thing.”
“And what did she say this time?” That was Fyn’s voice. Her heart leapt at its sound.
“She found something.”
“Oh, and what’s that?”
Aelrie was pulled into the chamber.
Fyn had his back to her. He was looking at a female Dark Elf in front of him. She couldn’t see all of her from behind Fyn, just half, but there was a gleam in her red eyes as they caught sight of her.
“See for yourself,” the female said, and Fyn turned around .
Aelrie was thrown onto the floor. She landed on her knees, wincing hard, feeling wet blood. Her eyes then rose to meet Fyn’s.
He first took note of her face, then her bare chest, his own face unmoving. A muscle in his jaw then twitched, and his eyes moved to Aelrie’s torturer, who still held the leash.
Twisting over to Falco showed her that creepy grin of his again, and his gaze was locked on Fyn. But when she turned back to Fyn, he was gone.
The leash dropped, and a loud crack came from beside her. She jolted to the side but was unable to move that much with her hands bound.
Fyn’s knee had caught Falco’s nose, and blood spurted from it. The young elf coughed a dry laugh at the pain and licked the blood from his lips. “Let’s go,” he roared.
But another blow came to his face, and he was knocked back. He took his dagger out after that, crouching down, arms out. He swiped, but Fyn wasn’t there. “Shit!” Falco cried as a flash of black appeared, Fyn’s shadow magic.
“Stop!” A loud female voice rang out, commanding, dominating.
The shadows faded. Fyn stood there as if frozen.
His daggers were out and his arms parallel to the other—the one above was about to slit Falco’s throat, and the other underneath was about to go for his gut.
He’d been seconds away from slashing Falco’s throat and spilling his guts out on the floor simultaneously.
“Kneel.”
Fyn dropped to both knees. His daggers clanked to the floor .
The female Dark Elf walked forward. Aelrie saw all of her now.
She was beautiful and older, but did not show it.
Her long white hair was slick and silky down her back.
A dark circlet sat upon her brow, and she wore a form-fitting long dress with a low neckline showing off her smooth, even-toned pale gray skin, such a pale gray and almost white that she looked like a High Elf of old, the elves who lived on Yggdrasil before the Light Elves and Dark Elves.
The pale elf glanced casually behind her. “Kestrel.” Her gaze then fell back to Aelrie. “Take this one to the cells.”
Another female Dark Elf stepped forward from the shadows. She was dressed in black leathers like the other assassins, looked to be about Fyn’s age, and was tall and a little muscular for a female. She had light gray skin, and her white hair was chopped short to her chin.
“I’ll deal with this wayward child.” The older female’s hand lifted Fyn’s chin up to look at her.
“Yes, Mistress Valeria,” Kestrel said with a bow.
Kestrel took out a dagger as she leaned down, and Aelrie shook her head. But the assassin just cut her bonds with it.
A blanket was placed over her nakedness. She looked down and realized it was a cloak from Kestrel. The tall elf then picked her up with an ease that surprised her. Aelrie looked up at her, and Kestrel glanced down at her with something that warned her not to try anything.
Before they left the chamber, she stole one last look at Fyn. His back was to her, still on his knees, with Mistress Valeria still holding his chin up as she peered down at him. Her face was beautiful and resolute like a silent marble statue in a midnight garden.
There was nothing she could do to help him or herself at this point.
Kestrel carried Aelrie out of the chamber and walked back down the steps Falco had led her from, but they didn’t enter the cave; they took another entrance.
It was a small area with cells on either side carved out of the stone walls, little hovels hollowed out with metal bars across to act as a door.
One cell was already occupied. A Wood Elf got up from the ground to grab the metal bars. “What is this?” he demanded. “Who are you people? Kidnapping me in the middle of the night. When my master hears about this, he’ll…”
Kestrel gave the Wood Elf such an intense glare that it shut him up. He sat back down on the ground without saying a word.
The assassin opened a cell beside the Wood Elf. She then unceremoniously dumped Aelrie inside and walked off, but not before locking the door with a spell of locking.
Aelrie wrapped the cloak around her. It was damp, and the ground was hard rock with no mat or straw to cover it.
There was no furniture and nothing to sit on but the ground.
This was a dungeon, probably beneath the house itself, and the cells were just holes made into the stone, not meant to hold its prisoners for very long.
There were no crystals to give light. The only light came from candles on the floor and walls, whittling away the time. How long would the candles last? If anyone would even replace them … Or did they mean to trap them down here in complete and utter darkness and leave them to rot?
Why did she follow Shikra? Why couldn’t she leave well enough alone, go on with her life, and forget this revenge that had such a vice grip on her soul?
There was no escape, not only from this prison cell, which would probably become her tomb, but from the revenge that wouldn’t free her from its insidious clutches. Clawing at her mind, forcing her steps forward, not giving her rest or respite until it was finally over and done with.
“What’s a sweet Light Elf like you doing in a place like this?” The voice came from the Wood Elf in the cell beside her.
“I made a mistake. I did something I shouldn’t have, against my better judgment.”
“You too?” His voice was sad. Gone was the indignant elf from before who demanded to know where he was.
“Why are you here?” she asked in a low voice.
“The same as you. I made a mistake. I fell in love with my master’s daughter.
Outsiders like us don’t matter. We’re slaves, chattel to them.
But sweet Nymala was different. She loved me.
I had no idea my master knew of our affair, but I guess he found out.
It’s why I was thrown down here, I just know it. ”
“How long have you been down here? In the Evergloom, I mean,” she asked.
His story was sad, and one not destined to end well for him. They were in a house of assassins after all.
Would she hold the same fate as him in the end?
“Twenty years or so. ”
Twenty years of captivity without seeing the sunlight through the leaves or having the scent of the forest blow through his hair. No wonder he took solace in forbidden love.
“Do you miss it, the forest?”
“Every moment of every day.” His voice was soft, wistful. “I died the last time I saw her, when I felt the sun on my skin for the last time and not this damned darkness everywhere.”
Home tugged at her—predictable days, daily runs through Emerald Forest at the crack of dawn, and sword practice after, before her bath and breakfast, and daily greeting to Lindana after prayers. That was her favorite time of day, from early to mid-morning.
She missed this regularity now, even though the doldrums of an uneventful life made her grow complacent, stagnant.
The only changes she’d gone through before this were the subtle, steady improvements to her body from her training, but even then, it wasn’t much of an improvement and mostly just maintaining.
Growth does not come from maintenance, but she did not honestly consider the consequences back then because the life she had was safe.
She never could’ve imagined ending up here in this dungeon in the depths of the Evergloom, awaiting her death.
Never felt the need to grow or experience. Now that she had, she …
“Thinking about how you ended up here?” The Wood Elf’s voice brought her back.
“Yes.”
“Was it worth it? ”
She sighed deeply; memories of her time spent with Fyn sprang to mind. “I’m not sure.”
“Well, mine was worth it, if that’s worth anything now.
When I met Nymala, I was reborn. Her love was like the warmth of the sun.
If this is to be my end, then I go knowing I held her in my arms, and that every day with her was like I was back in the forest of my home, walking through the trees with the sun on my face. ”
“Then.” She swallowed. “You understand where we are?”
“They’re going to kill me.” His words were as resolute as his acceptance of that fact.
Tears streamed down her cheeks, but she had to hold them in.
“But you, you’re so young. You shouldn’t be here. You have to get out of here.” He accepted his fate, yet he worried about hers.
Steps came from down the corridor, growing closer. Kestrel appeared and opened the cell door, standing before her with a hint of threat carved on her stone face. “Follow me, and don’t try anything.”
They didn’t waste time figuring out what to do with her. Was this her end?
She got up and clutched the cloak about her chest to cover her nakedness, at least to give herself that dignity. Kestrel started walking, and Aelrie followed.
“What are you going to do with her?” The Wood Elf stood up, his hands back on the bars of his cage. “Let her go.”
“Silence!” Kestrel’s harsh voice was as sharp as a blade .
Aelrie gave him a glance before she left. “Run away,” he mouthed to her.
“Pick up the pace,” Kestrel’s command came from the entrance.
Aelrie didn’t run. The idea had crossed her mind, echoing the Wood Elf’s plea, but it was pointless. Even if she made it out of the house, she’d never reach the surface without help, without Fyn. Whether for his sake or her own, she stayed.
Better to find out what they wanted and decide how far she could play along.
Still, if this was her end, she wouldn’t go quietly. Kestrel no doubt had a dozen blades hidden beneath her leathers. If she could get close enough to find one and take it, maybe she could do something.
But not now. Not yet.
She said nothing and followed the assassin back into the house.
Dank stone walls were replaced by marble veined in gold.
They walked by a grand staircase of black marble and gray speckled polished granite.
Large vases made of pale green jade, almost white in color, held strange-looking plants.
Crystals of every color and shape, agate bowls, and precious gems glittered beneath the violet crystal chandelier.
Kestrel led her to another wing of the manor. They walked by a ballroom made for entertaining guests until they reached another staircase, though this one was simple and not grand like the one from the main wing of the manor.
At a hall of bedrooms on the second floor, Kestrel led her to a door at the end .
“This is your bedroom.” She pointed to the bed once they entered. “Your bed.” She pointed to the bathtub in the corner peeking out halfway through a room divider. “Your bath.” She placed her hand on black garments lying folded on top of a wardrobe. “Your clothes.”
The room was small but cozy, designed in the Dark Elf fashion in sleek black stone with purple accents from the magic crystals to the satin sheets on the bed.
But why bring her here?
“I will come back in one hour. Bathe and change before then. And don’t think about escaping. You couldn’t even get the front door open.”
Kestrel then left. The door locked behind her with a spell.
Aelrie touched the clothes on the dresser. Leather. The same as the assassins wore.
What were they planning with her? They weren’t going to kill her. They wouldn’t have brought her here, to their living quarters, if they were. Still, she didn’t like this.
After drawing a bath and trying her best to wash away the worries nagging her, she considered her position. This was an improvement from the dungeon. But it boded ill.
Did they expect her to become an assassin? She’d rather die or go out in a blaze of glory before that happened.
She healed her scrapes and cuts while in the bath.
After, she dried off carefully. The clothes were tight-fitting and made of leather, impossible to “slip” into with dampened skin.
They even left her with black satin undergarments.
The smooth, silky feeling was like a kiss of midnight against her skin.
Perched on the side of the bed, she laced the leather boots up in silence. She’d checked already, and there were no weapons in the room. She had her fists, but what good would that be against dagger-wielding trained assassins?
Kestrel opened the door, not giving her much time for respite. “Follow me,” she ordered, warning her dissent wasn’t an option.
Aelrie stood up, not backing down from the assassin’s gaze. “Where’s Shikra?” She knew his real name was a secret meant only for her.
Fyn was the main reason she stayed calm throughout this. There was a sliver of hope that cut through the abstract degradation of her will, knowing he was here, somewhere. So ardent was her trust in him that she feared nothing so long as he was around.
Kestrel’s eyebrows lifted. It was subtle but still a reaction nonetheless, especially on her otherwise stoic face. “If you wish to meet him, you shall soon enough, should you please Mistress Valeria.”
Kestrel led her through the manor and back down to the chamber where she last saw Fyn.
It was circular and had a domed ceiling, even though it was underneath the main house.
Crystals hung suspended in lanterns about the wall, but screens were placed over the lanterns, making this light muted, giving the chamber an even more gloomy, foreboding feeling, especially for Aelrie now as she approached the center.
Mistress Valeria was in front of her, toward the back. An altar stood beside her, which she had not noticed the first time she was here. Her hand was outstretched before Aelrie, beckoning her closer.
“Come to me, child. This is to be your rebirth.”