Elfling (U.S. Edition)

by Corinna Turner

  That done, I went out for an early, goodbye-breakfast. Even fort guardians did not—if they had a choice—travel at first light, but rather at safe light, which was not until the sun’s demon-scattering rays actually peeped over the horizon.

  There was a terrible lump in my throat afterwards, when it was time to say goodbye to the motherly she-elf. She’d made me so welcome. “Thank you for everything,” I told her, as she hugged me tight and I hugged her back. “I’ll never forget you.”

  “Be safe, child,” she said softly, kissing the top of my head. “Be safe.” Turning, she held Ystevan close in turn. “Be careful,” she whispered, “please be careful...”

  “I will, I promise,” Ystevan whispered back—but he hugged her long and hard.

  Clearly dark elfin hunting was not the safest of tasks. How had his father died? I’d never quite liked to ask, but I knew he’d been a guardian too. For the first time I found myself viewing Ystevan’s journey to London with something other than selfish delight. Almost wishing, in fact, that he didn’t have to go at all.

  When they finally broke apart, Haliath placed a hand on his shoulder and gave him a long, penetrating, look, her anxiety changed to deepest sorrow and sympathy. Ystevan just ducked his head, bending to pick up both sets of saddlebags, and hurried towards the door.

  No, killing someone was never a pleasant thing to have to do—especially in cold blood. Let alone a relative. No wonder Haliath felt for him.

  ~+~

  Another damp and uncomfortable afternoon in a prickly hedge gained me nothing but a slobbery lick from a curious cow.

  Concluding that if the cow could find me so easily the Elfin surely could too, I departed and spent a couple of hours behind the hedge that ran alongside the main road, near the turning, since that was where I’d had my previous success. But nothing elfin-like happened by. In fact, nothing of any note happened whatsoever, apart from Hellion succeeding in sidling up to me and decorating my elbow with tooth-shaped bruises. So I turned Hellion towards home in reasonable time, eager to spend more time with my father.

  When I hastened to my father’s room, I found him propped up against the pillows but not alone. Father Francis sat beside the bed, his face such a shade of white that I immediately knew that my father had finally made a completely full confession. The old priest held my father’s hands clasped in his, though, and both seemed deep in prayer.

  Something seemed to snap inside me. “What are you doing here?” I screamed at the old priest. “We don’t need you, we don’t, go away, get out!”

  They looked up at me with compassionate, pitying looks, and I turned and fled. I slammed my room door behind me and my wardrobe door too, curling up in the darkness with dresses and cloaks brushing my head.

  I thought I’d understood before, thought I’d been afraid before, but it was nothing compared to the terror and absolute certainty that had gripped me as I looked at my father and the priest together. Finally, after holding it back for all these years from even that dearest and most trusted confidante, my father had confessed his gravest and most terrible sin…

  At some point, probably in the next day or two, he truly was going to die.

  ~+~

  CHAPTER 41

  LORD VANDALIS

  I thrust my own barely tasted cup of chocolate into Susie’s hand the moment Ystevan arrived and dragged him into the garden without giving him time to get a cup of his own. I hustled him through the gate and with scant ceremony, appealed, “Please heal my father, please! He’s so ill!”

  “We’ve been through this,” he retorted irritably and strode off through the park.

  After a night of sleepless anguish, having to talk to his back simply infuriated me. I put a spurt on and caught up with him, seizing his arm and swinging him around to face me. “Don’t just walk away from me!” I snapped furiously. “What happened to explaining your reasons!”

  “I have explained them. Thoroughly,” he retorted, his voice low and beginning to approach a snarl. “I have a higher regard for your intelligence than to suppose that you have not understood me! I have been patient, but this is growing ridiculous. There is nothing left to explain!”

  “Nothing left!” I cried. “No, it is I that will have nothing left! Explain to me why you would leave me without a father? If he dies, it will be your fault!”

  “It will be his own cursed fault,” snapped the guardian, clearly beyond restraint. “He is a sorcerer, and the sooner he dies, the better!”

  I choked, and half blind with gathering tears, lashed out at him with my palm. His spectacles went flying but my wrist slammed into the circle of his fingers before my hand could strike his face, and they closed like a vice. His eyes had bled to pure gold. I’d finally made him truly angry.

  “Don’t do that,” he told me in a near-whisper. “It is considered very bad manners for a she-elf to hit a he-elf.” And he gave my arm a little shake as if to drive the point home.

  I wrenched slightly, but to no avail. I could feel that he could crush every bone in my wrist without exerting himself. But I did not fear him. That choking lump in my throat seemed to be growing bigger, pure panic; what if he wouldn’t, what if he really wouldn’t do it? I tried to push it down, but just then, it was no good, and it rose up, and the tears overflowed my eyes, and I buried my face against his chest and wept.

  He released my wrist and put his arms around me comfortingly, holding me close, stroking back and hair. “It’s all right, little one, it’s all right,” he soothed me, but I just sobbed, “It’s not, it’s not!” and hit his chest with my feeble fist, but he made no effort to stop me and I hurt my hand on his jeweled collar. So I put it around his neck instead, retaining just enough sense to avoid further injury on his crest. But his concern brought another memory rushing back to me.

  “Serapia? Serapia? Are you alright? Wake up!” Someone was knocking on the door...

  I opened my eyes, breathing hard, my nightgown clinging to my sweaty body, and stared around in the dim moonlight coming through the inn’s grubby window. Not another nightmare! I was on my way back! And for an unexpected bonus, time-wise, Ystevan’s own mission turned out to be of an urgent nature. With my heavier human self mounted on post horses, and the elfin-light guardian riding Hellion—who hardly seemed to notice he was up there—we were making speedy progress. But we still had to stop to sleep occasionally.

  “Serapia? Are you alright?”

  Oh, I hadn’t answered yet. “I’m fine. Just a nightmare.” Though I’d wager he knew the latter, or he wouldn’t merely be tapping politely on my door. Then my eyes went back to the moonlight streaming through the window. “Thank you for waking me, but you get back inside your...your room!” I couldn’t shout about wards in the night-quiet.

  It hadn’t really occurred to me until we set off that an elfin away from the fort gained not the slightest protection simply from being within a human dwelling. Although we stopped at inns at nightfall, he sat alertly as we ate our meal, his eyes shifting warily, and only relaxed when he was in his allotted room and had set out his seven egg-sized rocks in a circle and gone within it.

  These stones clearly provided a temporary ward powerful enough to withstand demonic assault for an entire night without maintenance—necessary, or guardians would never have been able to get any sleep when away from the fort. Normally he dragged the bed into the centre of the room to get it within the circle. If the bed happened to be built into the wall, he would sleep on the floor instead.

  “As you wish, my lady...” His voice came teasingly through the door, but I couldn’t hear his light footsteps as he padded away. Barefoot, no doubt.

  I settled down in my bed again and watched the clouds disturbing the play of the moonlight on the floor. In two more days, we would be in London. Ystevan was still refusing to aid me, but I had a plan. What I needed to do, what I really needed to do, to break this impasse, to change his mind, was to actually bring him face to face with my father. Surely, once he actually
met him properly, he would sense what I had sensed the first time I met my father—that he was a good man. And the guardian’s stony, duty-bound heart would be softened.

  I knew how to achieve it, as well. This journey provided the perfect opportunity. When we reached Albany House, I would invite him in for refreshments. If he resisted the idea—which he probably would—I would make much of human propriety. I would explain that to refuse hospitality after so long a journey was offensive in the extreme, tantamount to a declaration of hostility, that such behavior was unthinkable...

  If all my eloquence failed, I would cry. Surely that would work.

  And if it didn’t? Well, I would jolly well swoon right there on the verge. Then he could either leave me lying there in the grass—not likely—or he’d have to pick me up and take me to the house.

  Yes, if I could just bring this off, all might still be well.

  My mind returned to the park. Ystevan went on shushing me soothingly until my tears died down, but I was still suffering from a minor case of the disconsolate sniffs when I felt his body tense. “Serapia,” he murmured in my ear. “Friends of yours?”

  I opened my eyes and peeped over his shoulder. Quite a few people were now loitering in what had been a quiet park. I stiffened as I focused on the closest one.

  The feral youth, the late Master Simmons’ bodyguard…and that one, that was the older man with the cruel eyes, who’d also worked for Master Simmons.

  “I’m guessing they’re after me?” added Ystevan, very softly.

  “Actually, two of them…could just possibly be after me…” I muttered back. “If they know my urchin identity, that is…” But then my eyes travelled on to a third man, and I tried not to frown. Ralph Fletcher, surely? All right, so ratting on your boss to save your neck might be looked upon with somewhat more sympathy than simply ratting on your boss for coin, but there was still no way these two would have left him alive unless…unless…unless they were all working for the same new employer, and a powerful one. “No, if this lot are working together, I think they’re after you.”

  “What a surprise,” breathed Ystevan. “All right, stick close to me. They won’t care if you get hurt.”

  Quickly, I touched Raven through my bodice. “Stay in there, Raven,” I whispered. “Understand?” I felt her little head nod against me as I slipped my hand through the slit in my skirt to ease out my dagger. The hilt was warm in my palm.

  “Are you sure that safyr is reliable?” asked Ystevan, as I released him. He scooped up his spectacles, and we turned to stroll on along the path, back towards the chocolate house, still pretending we saw nothing suspicious about the men who…yes, there were four or five loiterers in this direction as well. Someone had amassed quite a force.

  “I’ve no idea what it would make of you,” I retorted. “But I’d trust it with my life. Frequently have.”

  To my surprise a faint smile flicked across Ystevan’s face. “Fair enough,” he conceded. “All right, watch out…” The men were converging on us, would-be casually, and he sounded tense.

  I glanced at him… Oh no, he couldn’t use his bow, could he? He wasn’t allowed to reveal his elfin powers in front of humans under any circumstance, that’s what he’d said. So he’d a dagger and his stick…would it be enough?

  I’d like to have thought that he had me too, but since I wouldn’t actually be much use at close quarters, I knew in reality he was going to have to protect me as well as himself.

  The men suddenly abandoned their pretence and rushed us in a surprisingly disciplined silence. Ystevan moved so fast I could hardly follow him. His first three encounters left one man bent double, clutching a broken wrist, a second unconscious on the ground, and a third on his knees, hugging his rib cage. Ystevan wasn’t even using his blade, he was just using his hands and his feet, and it was clear he could’ve left all three men dead if he’d chosen to.

  It was plain from the way the other men’s advance checked momentarily, that they could see it too… But they pressed on, closing in around us. Someone had put the fear into them all right. And they all held knives.

  I tried to stay close to Ystevan, as he’d said, but he had to keep springing from side to side, like a whirlwind, tackling one assailant after another.

  Ralph Fletcher made a dash for Ystevan’s back, so I concentrated hard and hurled my dagger, sprinting after it to yank it out of his shoulder even as he slumped down to his knees, mouth open in shock. As he crawled away, I tried to return to Ystevan, but the feral youth was there, eyeing me with a disturbingly intent look, and a moment later the cruel-eyed man was beside him. I saw the glance that passed between them.

  “Fancy bladework for a lil’lady like yourself…” said the man. “Do we know yer, eh?”

  I backed away as they advanced, horribly conscious that I had only one blade and two targets—and much shorter legs than either of them, so running wasn’t a good plan… Which one to go for? The older one would be slower, so…the feral one it was. Unless… I’d never tried something this big before.

  They rushed me, knives raised. I gripped the dagger as tightly as I could.

  Unseen…unseen…unseen…

  They blinked, rapidly, as though they were struggling to focus on me…not good enough.

  UNSEEN!

  The dagger pulsed in my hand, burning hot. The older man slowed down, looking confused, but the feral youth gave a berserk howl and charged at the spot where he’d last seen me. I almost dodged but he clipped my shoulder, carrying me to the ground. I was trying to roll clear when he grabbed hold of me, raising his knife.

  I drove my dagger up into his chest, whacking his blade away with my other hand. He gasped, snarled like a wounded dog…then collapsed on top of me. Frantically I tried to wriggle out from underneath and yank my dagger free, all at once. Too late, the cruel-eyed man was looming overhead.

  “You little witch!” He kicked me in the side, hard, jerking a cry of pain from me, then kicked me again, before bending over me—I could feel Raven scrabbling to get out of my dress and attack him, but his knife was almost at my throat... “This’ll teach you, you!” A look of pained shock crossed his face, then all expression left it and he toppled across the feral youth… Ouf!

  Ystevan stood there, his dagger in his hand. “Will that teach you not to attack females?” he demanded of the dead man. Bending, he seized a collar with each hand, dragging the corpses off me. “Serapia, are you hurt?” Kneeling, he gathered me up with gentle arms, carrying me quickly away from the scene of the fight.

  Raven had missed being squashed by the falling man, thankfully, but I pushed her back gently so no one would see her. “Good girl,” I whispered. “Everything’s all right now.”

  Over Ystevan’s shoulder, I could see that most of the men were writhing or kneeling on the grass in positions of varying discomfort. A few seemed to be missing all together, they must have fled. He’d dealt with all the others whilst I was scuffling with just two of them… As I watched, some of the men started grabbing one another for support and stumbling away.

  “Aren’t you going to…turn them over to Sir Allen, or something?” I wheezed, clutching my own ribcage in serious discomfort of my own.

  Ystevan made a dismissive noise. “Far better to leave them alive, and loose. One or another will surely lead me to someone of importance, maybe even Arathain himself.”

  He must have made sure he could track them in some way. But being so close to him, his face near mine, a memory was stirring, one it almost felt like I’d been unconsciously trying to hold back, to keep forgotten...

  “Well, here we are,” said Ystevan, as we drew rein outside the massive gateposts of Albany House. “We’ve made good time.”

  “Yes,” I agreed, my heart pounding now that the moment had arrived—with fear, but mostly with intense hope. If I could only get him inside.

  I’d just drawn breath to speak when his hand came to rest gently on my shoulder—he’d pressed Hellion close alongside my
mount. I looked up at him, meeting his green-gold eyes—he’d removed his spectacles and tucked them in a pocket. The look of naked sorrow on his face startled me.

  “Serapia...I really am more sorry than...than I can ever express...about this.”

  This? Since when had he cared... “About my father?”

  He gave a tiny, sad, smile. “That, too.”

  The corners of his eyes were full of water. Tears? What...?

  His hand slid along my shoulder, his fingertips touched the nape of my neck, and his wonderful eyes expanded and swallowed me up...

  I toppled from my saddle, and the last thing I felt was his strong arms catching me...

  Ystevan was carrying me...yes, we were in the park...the men had attacked us...attacked him. I felt disorientated by this last memory, far more so than by any of the others. My chest...ached. Not just from my assailant’s violent kicks. Even the memory of Ystevan’s tears couldn’t relieve the pain. Because he’d still done it.

  It was his duty...

  It was a total betrayal...

  My mind and my heart did not agree at all on this one. But I’d known how it ended. Ever since meeting him again in London, I’d known. Why was I so upset?

  But come to think of it, where were the two gifts he and Haliath had given me whilst I stayed with them? He’d stolen those too, hadn’t he?

  Ystevan set me down on the grass at last, just outside the chocolate house’s gate, and placed his hands on my sides. Mercifully, the physical pain eased and breathing became much more pleasant again. The other ache didn’t go away, though.

  All the same... “Thank you!” I said, with feeling. “I’m sorry I wasn’t much use.”

  He gave me an incredulous look. “You dealt with three of them, I could hardly ask for more!”