9. Dianite
It took us five days to travel through the forest and find the general location that Turalyon had marked on the map. We each switched off coaxing along Turalyon’s old glacialmara, and it slowed our progression, but none of us would leave one of drathorinna’s spawn to the elements.
We’re still in the Northern Forest, just barely outside the borders of the Elvish capital, Shvathemar, but everything about this place feels crowded and ominous. We don’t soar or race here, we move slowly—cautiously.
The elvish lands are enchanted to be in a state of perpetual spring. Deep brown and golden trunks stretch up all around us, with luscious leaves in nearly every shade of green. Their tops press against each other, fighting to get enough light to keep surviving. The odd patch that leaves don’t obscure is filled with sprouted flowers in pastel hues.
Insects fly in a peculiar way—more hovering than soaring, unlike the birds. They dart back and forth before diving toward the ground at some unseen target.
One of the fowls I’d been watching earlier with iridescent red feathers lands on Niht’s shoulder. He coos to the creature, and it chirps back before flitting away.
When it returns, it brings friends. Some of them land on Ulla, who laughs in delight.
“No killing these little ones, either,” she tells Niht sternly.
He smiles. “Of course not. They wouldn’t give us anything other than a morsel of meat.”
Ra”Salore is peculiarly quiet as he studies the forest, only pausing to curse and swat at some bug.
There’s no sign of a sequestered rebellion led by women out here, no grand castle, not even a shack or the ruins of an old house.
I take a deep breath, drawing in the scent of moist ground and fresh trees to help steady myself.
“Are you sure this is the spot?” Niht asks, and I hear the rustle of a scroll as Ulla takes out the map.
Again.
Rahda seems to let out a long sigh as she twists her crystal head to look back at me. I stroke the smooth stone once more as we slow our pace and fall into place alongside Ulla.
My glasses are still resting on the crook of my nose, so I see the hand-drawn expanse that Turalyon left us. I study the trees around me, then return to the carefully measured marks and the artful illustration of Shvathemar.
There is no hum of the ground to guide our paths. I almost worry that we have been going in circles in these trees with nothing more than the rising and setting sun to guide us. But we haven’t strayed. A hill stretches up to the eastern side, just as it should. I remember crossing the river, deviating from the road leading to Arion’s territory. We had followed everything down to the carefully painted letter.
“Yes,” I say.
Niht makes a sound a few paces away. “I need to stop to take a piss.”
I look up and see his hair spilling out of his braid. He shifts his weight to his back leg, puts one hand on an armored hip, and raises the other to his shoulder, where a new bird is perched.
“Will you leave me in peace, little one?” he asks. The bird squeaks and flutters away. He smiles and disappears behind the tree.
Sighing, the rest of us dismount and our glacialmaras float together, curling in comforting motions and expressing their weariness.
I riffle through my pack, pulling out a spyglass. Switching the crystal in the lens to look for hidden magic, I study the landscape.
Nothing.
All of us are quiet, resigned.
“Maybe we missed a turn—” Niht starts upon returning.
“No,” Ra”Salore bites out. He crosses to Ulla, who is still reading over Turalyon’s notes. “I propose one final scan of the area. Perhaps there is some hole in the ground, covered by leaves.”
I look at the golden sunlight shining through the tightly packed leaves as the sun dips into the horizon.
“No more than an hour. We need to set up camp before dark.”
To be honest, I don’t know much about the monsters that lurk in these forests. It’s possible that the cold ones followed us to this point. There are also tales of large creatures lurking in Elvish lands: wolves the size of men covered in moss and thickets, and dryads who protect the land from those who would seek to destroy their sacred space.
As the others scour the region, I ensure the glacialmaras are tied up. Rahda’s twinkling chimes grow louder as I approach. She separates from the others, who appear to be playfully crashing against each other and tangling up their leads.
“Shh,” I murmur as I stroke my hand over her head. “You have flown so well during this trip. It would be foolish to be so loud that you give up our location.” My words are scolding, and I am unsure if she understands, but the tip of her long, jagged tail whips out behind her.
I sigh, leaving my friend, and walk deeper into the forest. The peculiar structure of the trees still disorients me—unlike the expanses of crystal that followed me everywhere in Enduvida.
One thing I know with my whole being: they are alive. But I do not hear their song, and they seem to have little concern about making their secrets known to me. They just watch. Study me and my every move. Neutral in this moment, but in the next? Would they be our enemies? They certainly hadn’t been my enemy in the past.
Their leaves are different from the elm trees in Zlosa. Normally, I try not to think about the giant capital, but being surrounded by a forest has made me pensive.
When I had first arrived on my mission, I wore my finest doublet and jewels. Walking up the marble steps was odd, as I knew the giants cared little for stones.
My father had spent years describing every inch of that place in excruciating detail.
It was almost as if his voice had been whispering in my ear, guiding me behind doors I was not shown. Mistrust was everywhere, even in my own heart, despite my relaxed smile. It wasn’t until I was escorted into the throne room that the first lick of fear chilled my innards.
The image of High King Erdaraj sitting on his great wooden throne and his wife, Queen Lijasa, seated on a smaller chair at his side still makes my stomach clench.
Lijasa’s room was on the top floor of the giant palace. It had massive windows that overlooked the capital city and the surrounding forests. After I finished servicing her, when she was sleeping, I would stand and watch their leafy tops sway in the wind.
Sometimes, their violent whipping felt like the pieces of my soul I’d given away to that cruel woman.
The flutter of wings to my left draws me back to these forests we are in now. Swallowing hard, I glance back up at the sky and see how far the sun has sunk. We aren’t searching for ghosts, we are searching for allies.
Though, perhaps they are ghosts because these allies apparently don’t exist.
Taking one last sweeping look around, I turn on my heel and head back to the clearing. Only Ra”Salore is there, and he is already undoing the pack on his glacialmara to set up camp.
I follow suit in silence. My head is full of monsters. His might be as well—as the tension between us never truly abates.
Ulla and Niht soon join us. Before the last rays of light fade into inky darkness, four leather tents and bedrolls are neatly arranged a safe distance from a modest fire. Ulla sets up a few crystals to mask the flames and smoke.
The truth hurts. There’s nothing to be found out here.
The warmth seeping into my hands, legs, and clothes helps keep away some of the chill of failure. One must celebrate the small things to bear the weight of the future.
A new idea has been percolating in the back of my mind. If there are no women to meet, we must be flexible in our strategy. We simply don’t have time to scour every inch of the forest when Estela is still with the giants.
A familiar panic claws up my throat, and I stroke the bond. When I do, that channel right below my heart stirs, and I gasp.
The sensation fades quickly. But feeling her, if it’s just her soul, is enough for me.
“Tomorrow, we will go to the Elvish capital, and we will request an audience with King Arion,” I say, trying not to sound like I am choking on the words despite them sticking to the back of my throat. It would be painfully humiliating to go back to him and ask for help after he is the reason my wife is gone in the first place.
“Teo, no,” Ulla says immediately, stopping her gentle singing and dropping the handle of the spoon she was using to tend to the dried meat softening in boiling water.
I meet her gaze. “We can’t go home empty-handed.”
She frowns, but Ra”Salore’s face has turned sour.
“Groveling at the feet of those who betrayed us is not something I can support.”
I watch him stand up and follow suit.
“What other choice do we have? We came this far because we need assistance to free my mate.”
He sneers. “Perhaps the humans are more trouble than they are worth. You only had her for a few short months. Just let things be—there are other matehoods. Soon, there will be children. As king, it is your duty to place the needs of the people above your own. Always.”
The air is electric, and Ulla’s face darkens. “King Teo has sacrificed?—”
“We have all sacrificed,” Ra”Salore practically shouts.
I’ve never seen him so angry, not even after his brother’s death.
“My brother was beheaded for the cause of the humans. I know that was his choice, but he and my mother were all the family I had left. My sisters were killed in the eruption. My father gave his life as a member of one of the king’s battalions. I have come here out of duty, but my family’s headcount has not been improved by the humans—not yet. I won’t die before I can carry on my line. Perhaps my loyalty to the crown has been misplaced.” The words are tumbling out of him, like years of unspoken confessions.
Each word lands its blow, and I feel a deep shame in the pit of my stomach.
Niht stands next to him and puts his hand on his shoulder.
“Ra”Salore,” he says as the other Enduar yanks his arm away.
“Do not try to placate me, old man. I’m going to sleep, and in the morning, I am going home. As I think all of you should,” he says.
The sound of laughter fills the air, causing everyone to freeze. It’s a jarring, foreign sound in the wake of our fight.
A second later, a form appears right next to Ulla. She gasps as arms wrap around her, pulling her close. A knife is pressed to her throat.
“Ulla,” I choke out as the figure is fully revealed.
A tall elf with short, well-combed white hair that sticks out around sun-tanned skin, pointed ears, and piercing green eyes stands in the middle of the camp. His garb is dark, nearly black.
I draw the knife tucked into my waistband, lamenting the armor and sword lying in my tent. Ra”Salore and Niht are more prepared. They point their blades at him, and he makes a tsking sound.
“Now, now, gentlemen. While you are a fearsome sight, with your heavy metal and azure skin, be careful where you stick those blades, or you’ll find your companion bleeding out on the ground faster than you can swipe me with one of your tails.”
“Are you one of Arion’s assassins?” I growl at him, and he turns his perfectly straight nose toward Ulla. Her eyes are wide, and she clutches the arm holding her immobile.
All of his attention fixes on Ulla. He is only slightly taller than her. If she were to turn and look at him, it would almost look like a warm embrace.
His expression hardens. Then he jostles her, eliciting a soft whimper, and gives me a simple “No.”
“Then who are you?” I demand.
“My apologies, my dear,” he says to her, ignoring me. “You have quite a lovely singing voice, so I sincerely hope your king doesn’t do something brash.” His eyes find mine once more and narrow. “Something that would compromise your lovely neck.”
“You’ve been watching us,” Niht spits at the elf.
The man smiles. It’s a charming, pointy curve of his mouth. “Yes. Though, you’re all rather boring if I’m being honest. And criminally uncreative.”
I take a step forward, which he doesn’t seem to react to, though Ulla flinches in his arms. If he were going to kill her, he would’ve by now. While I don’t see mercy flickering in his eyes, I think his capture of Ulla is more for show than anything else.
He wants us to be afraid, but he is also curious.
“Do you know anything about an enclave of elvish women?” I ask, trying to cut through the tension around the fire.
He looks bored. “You’re looking for elvish women in the woods? I didn’t realize how stupid you… Enduares could be. I haven’t seen a female elf outside of her humble dwelling since… never. Don’t you know that the pinnacle of feminine bliss is tending to a husband? They’re very well-domesticated,” he nearly purrs as Ulla gains her footing and starts to shift. “Perhaps this lovely lady could learn something from them.”
Ullas face turns purple with her flush, so I keep talking. If I can just distract him from Ulla, I could tackle them both and get that knife away.
“Then why are you here? I’ll ask you again: are you one of King Arion’s assassins?”
He actually laughs this time. “I’ll answer you the same: gods, no.”
I take the opportunity to take another step, feeling everyone’s eyes on me, and his laughter dies.
“If you want me to release your delicious friend, tell me what you want with the sisterhood.”
“My human mate was stolen by the giants. We have few options left for allies in this fight, so we’ve come here, hoping to speak with the sisterhood.”
The elf all but rolls his eyes. “Trolls seeking out the help of the elves to deal with the giants. A tale as old as time—and one that I’ve already grown benumbed to.”
I take a deep breath. “I’ve also come to offer my people’s services. If you aren’t with the king, you are against him. Once my wife is safely secured, I will ensure a new sovereign sits in Shvathemar.”
His eyebrows shoot up. “Friend, I’m not sure if this is the place for you to spout treason. Though, I am dying of curiosity. How did you hear of these… women?” the elf asks.
“After one of my councilors came to reopen communication with Arion before the festival. While he was here, he heard of a small rebellion of women brewing in the forests.”
If this man isn’t with the king, he might be with this rebellion despite being a man.
“We have brought gifts and an offer of help in any way we can. We also might have information about an artifact that my father stole.”
The elf watches me with a blank expression.
“You’re not lying,” he says after a second.
I shake my head. “No, I’m not.”
Slowly, he lowers his hands, and Ulla stumbles forward.
Niht crosses the fire to help her. The newcomer spares her one final apologetic glance, and it’s then that I see a familiar roundness to his features—particularly the ears.
One that speaks to a human background.
“You’re half-human,” I say boldly. My eyes grow wider. Of course, he would not be in Arion’s court. The elves were just as concerned with racial purity as my father.
The man frowns. “Thorne the Peredhel, not at your service,” he counters.
I recognize the parts of the word, practically a slur among elves as it translates to half-human. They are defined entirely by the undesirable half of their lineage.
He studies us for a second longer.
“If you aren’t liars, I suppose I will let her decide what other dark intentions you might have.”
I straighten my shoulders as my hope soars.
We’ve found them.
“Take us to the sisterhood, and I will heartily promise to help dethrone, kill, or otherwise imprison Lord Arion,” I say, hoping to solidify my stance further.
Thorne lets out another jarring laugh. “Very well, my friends. If you desire to inculpate your court to aid us, who am I to reject you?”
He raises his hand, and a small spark lights up the tip of his finger.
In a second, the forest around us begins to rustle and twist. Some of the trees themselves animate, and their long, fluffy branches sink down to become arms and hands. Eyes open on once unseeing bark, and their mossy green orbs study us with blank expressions.
Niht gasps, but one of the trees hones in on Ulla.
“My lady,” an ethereal voice slides through the air. “You may come first,” the dryad says.
Thorne gestures toward the trees, and Ulla casts him a sharp, mistrusting look, which he almost seems to smirk at.
She takes the branch’s hand, and Ra”Salore, Niht, and I start moving to join her.
Thorne raises his hand, and a billowing shadow hits each of us in the forehead.
Most of my strength blinks out like a light. Struggling to move, I look back at the glacialmaras, which are yanking at their tethers.
An awful, gurgling sound makes the earth beneath us shake and sink. One of the dryads picks up my limp form, and I see a face grow from the ground, like another tree. Large, glowing eyes blink open amidst leaves and branches. It opens its mouth and says something in old elvish. Something even I do not understand, though it sounds like a question.
Thorne steps forward, and the rest of my awareness fades.