Chapter 48
T oday was going to be the day her life would change forever.
And it started out so simple. They had breakfast with her parents and left for Alfheim together, taking the old road.
The morning was fresh and calm. The breeze was light through the trees, and the sky was blue in between patches of fluffy clouds.
They reached Alfheim late in the afternoon, a few hours before sundown.
She knelt with Fyn outside the city gates, open now because the sun was still out, and travelers and merchants came in from the road.
They hid on the outer border of Emerald Forest just before the trees transitioned to the high marble walls of the city and watched as the city guard inspected everyone before they entered.
The plan was for Aelrie to bring Fyn in as a prisoner. They had chains to lock him up with for the charade.
She turned to Fyn and gave him a look that said, “Ready to do this?”
He nodded without saying anything.
They’d begun to understand one another so well.
“That day in the forest,” she then said. “It seemed you called the wyrm to you. How did you do that? ”
“You’re asking me this now ?”
“I guess I’ve been wondering about it for a while.”
“It’s the blood of the great wyrm young. Once they smell it, even from miles away, they come to protect their young.”
“Oh.” Now that she knew what it was, it should’ve been obvious to her from the start.
“As would I,” he told her as he looked into her eyes and pushed a strand of errant light brown hair not in a ponytail behind her ear. “I’d go anywhere, do anything to find you, protect you. No matter what.”
Of all the things he’d said to her, why was this making her blush? “We should go; we’re losing daylight.”
Fyn concealed his blades behind his back, hiding them in his cloak, and took out the chains so she could clasp them around his wrists.
She led him out of the forest as if he were a pup on a leash.
“Pick up the pace,” she said and yanked the chain as two Light Elves walked past them on the road headed toward the gate.
The Light Elves took one look at them and scurried away as fast as they could to the gate.
“I’m starting to like this side of you,” Fyn mumbled underneath his hood.
“Quiet you,” she bit back, but a smile tugged at her lips.
There were two heavily armed guards at the gate, resplendent in shining silver armor and pale blue capes. She had to admit she was jealous of the city guard, if only for the outfit. In another life, that would’ve been her .
“Halt, kera ,” the guard on the right stopped her from entering. He peered behind her at Fyn with the hood pulled down over his drooping head. “Who is this you bring with you?” He looked Fyn over, and his body tensed.
“A prisoner,” she answered, stepping in front of Fyn to avoid further inspection from the guard. “He is the Dark Elf assassin who killed the high priestess of the Temple of the Starsun, and I have captured him to bring him to justice.”
The guard on the left exhaled a gasp. His hand went to draw his sword. She was quick to catch this and immediately glared at him. “Stand down, soldier.” Her voice was high and commanded authority. “It is not for you to dispense punishment. That is for the court to decide, by a fair trial.”
“A Dokkálfar like him doesn’t deserve fairness.” Hatred burned in the guard’s light blue-gray eyes. His hunger for the spilled blood of retribution, palpable.
“So, kill him where he stands without trial? Where is the justice in that? I thought the city guard knew of honor, but I guessed wrong.” Her voice was clear and strong, but her free hand, not holding the chain, shook.
She placed it behind her back to hide the shaking and to stand taller in front of the guards.
“Stand down.” The guard on the right ordered the one on the left. “This one is bound for the gallows, anyway. He will meet his justice soon enough, be it at the end of a noose or executioner’s axe.”
“And who are you? How did you apprehend this Dokkálfar?” That was the guard on the left. He seemed more on edge than the guard on the right, more likely to kill first and ask questions later.
She repositioned herself, making her shoulders straight, and faced the guard front and center. “I am the high priestess’s personal guard, Aelrie Everstar of the Temple of the Starsun. And I have captured her assassin to have him face justice. Who are you?”
That shut him up. But the guard on the right held his hand out. “Good work, soldier. But we can take it from here.”
She tightened her grip on the chain and moved it out of the guard’s grasp. “So you can take the glory all for yourself?” She had to make it sound like she was selfish. They would be suspicious of her intentions otherwise since she demanded on taking the prisoner herself. “I think not.”
The guards looked at each other for an agonizing moment. The one on the right relented, letting her through the gate. “Head straight to the captain of the guard, soldier. He’ll want to hear of this first. And good job on catching the fiend.”
Aelrie led Fyn through the gate and didn’t stop to look back at the guards. Keep steady, don’t act suspicious.
The captain of the guard’s quarters was in the tower, but they weren’t headed there.
She passed the tower with her heart pounding. No one stopped them. Only when they reached the market did she finally exhale.
This was where she came across Vainir Neverwinter, the councilor, Lindana’s lover, and the one who ordered her murder.
How obvious it should have been to her, meeting him outside the temple like that, as if he were only strolling through the markets, feigning surprise as if the assassin and the chaos were just passing distractions.
Unfortunately, the clarity of hindsight can never resolve the past, only sway one’s actions for the future.
Lindana and Vainir both thought her na?ve, compliant. She had to kill that part of herself.
Something she'd said earlier pricked at the back of her head. She stopped and spoke behind her back to Fyn. “I shouldn’t have done that,” she whispered.
“Done what?” he muttered back, nervously glancing around at all the Light Elves’ prying eyes. “Can it wait till later?”
She continued walking forward and led Fyn by chain through the market to avoid suspicion. “I told the guard my name. They will know I didn’t report to the captain and then … after the councilor is killed … I will be hunted.”
“I’ll go back and kill them. I can do it quickly. There were open spots in their shiny armor, a dagger could easily slip through.” His voice was like a hiss. This was the assassin Shikra talking, not Fyn. A shiver crawled up her spine.
That … that was the logical course of action …
but it went against her nature to act so bloodthirstily.
After the councilor, she never wanted to kill again unless she had to save her life or the lives of others.
That was what a soldier was supposed to do.
Even if she wasn’t a soldier anymore, she still upheld a soldier’s honor, or at least strived to.
She never wanted to be forced to kill or do so because of convenience.
She understood Fyn, but she was not like him.
“No,” she replied. “Sundown is upon us. We must hurry to the temple.”
To the Temple of the Eternal Truth, where Vainir Neverwinter would meet his fate.
As the temple came up on their left in all its glory with swirling arches and a high dome carved in pristine marble, she didn’t feel anything at all, not even her nerves.
It was a strange sort of feeling, facing one of your greatest challenges and feeling absolutely nothing about it.
It wasn’t that she was calm either; perhaps ambivalence was the best way to describe it.
She didn’t know what she should feel, so there was nothing there to feel.
Her choices had brought her here, and she wasn’t sure if she should mourn her old life or rejoice in her new one.
They were not to use the front steps to enter, but a back way, because what they were to do called for stealth and secrecy.
Nerilion was going to give them access to the temple.
Inside, Vainir would be waiting, and it was up to Aelrie to strike quickly, and then …
she and Fyn could start their lives together.
The door stood before her. She tried the knob, and it twisted open.
Nerilion left it unlocked just as he’d told Fyn he would.
There was a long corridor before them, lit in starlight magic trapped in lanterns along the walls.
There were no other doors, just a long corridor leading to what lay beyond … their destiny, come what may.
The calmly burning cerulean fires, the medium the seers used to see both future and past through, could be heard from the chambers above them, along with soft chanting. The time was right. They were told to come just before sundown.
Fyn held his hands out for her to unlock his chains, but she stood there staring at them and hesitated. A moment passed, and yet she still stared. She could feel his eyes desperately trying to meet hers.
“You know,” she said, slowly lifting her head up to his. “My 'grand' plan was to seduce you … get you to lower your guard and trust me, all so I could bring you back here to Alfheim to face justice. It was part of my ‘revenge.’”
Fyn’s eyes roamed hers, searching for a follow-up to this. His hands were still held out in front of him; he was expecting her to unlock his chains. His trust in her was implicit; he didn’t have to say it, and she didn’t have to prove it.
Fyn, the Dark Elf who once told her his secrets came with consequences as grave as death, learned to trust another, and it was the Light Elf with a vendetta against him.
She let out a little laugh. “I guess I succeeded in that.”
His lips parted, confusion written clearly across his face.
“But.” She paused. “I’m not the same Aelrie Everstar I was before … before I met you. You … showed me love, and I … love you in return.” She unlocked his chains, and tears rolled down her cheeks, yet they were not from sadness but from relief, freeing herself from her revenge.
“Shh, shh,” he hushed her, cupping her face. He kissed her on the forehead and rubbed away the tears with his thumbs, caressing her cheeks. “I love you more than you know. So, no tears.”
Whatever she was holding back before burst forth now. She couldn’t stop crying. His warm arms pulled her in, and she held him tight, wrapping her arms around his strong back.
“I’m not sad.” She sniffed. “I am mourning, not death, but the life I once had. But I am not afraid of this, for it is a rebirth. These tears I shed are ones of both grief and happiness. Can you understand that?”
“Yes, I can. The same goes for me.” He rocked her slightly in his arms. His voice was gentle, even. “This too is my rebirth.”
Why couldn’t she just stay like this forever, or skip the next step and go right into a peaceful life with Fyn? Neither of these things would happen, though, unless she finished the grim task that lay ahead of her.
She broke from the embrace. “Let’s go.”
When she turned to continue down the corridor, Fyn held her hand back, giving her a smile and then kissing it. She laughed to herself. A charmer. “Alright, alright. Let’s go.”
This time, there was no doubt in her heart. The girl she had been was gone. Only what came next remained.