What Do You Say to a Naked Elf?

by Cheryl Sterling

  Not that she’d been happier finding any answers to her past. It still hurt to look at Bryant and know his true identity. She didn’t doubt him, but her mother’s defection from her family, however unwilling, hurt Jane. The assault to her self-image confused her. Shouldn’t that be ’elf-image? she thought wryly.

  Pasha stumbled, and Jane snapped her attention back to the trail. They’d passed the highest elevation of their journey and now followed the Fendi River downstream. Unfortunately, this was the most dangerous part. Strung out like lumpy beads on a necklace, they descended a path along the canyon walls. The river twisted below them. Sheer rock rose above. One misstep and it’s curtains, Jane.

  An explosion ripped through the air, spewing rock and gravel in angry missiles. The sound cracked off the walls, howling down their length. Men and ponies screamed. The trail collapsed, cutting the band of travelers in half.

  Jane grabbed her saddle tightly as Pasha reared up. The pony tried to rush back the way they’d come. It skidded in the dirt and gravel. Jane pulled on the reins, fighting for control, trying not to think of the fifty-foot plunge to her left.

  “Get down,” Eagar shouted at her. Suddenly, he was at her side, one hand on the pony’s bridle. “Do you want to die?” he asked, his black eyes snapping. With his free hand, he reached up and jerked her from the saddle. She fell in an ungraceful heap on the path and scrambled to get out of the way of her mount’s hooves.

  Muttle pulled her back against the rock face.

  “What happened?” she asked, grabbing his shoulder for balance. She swiveled in the direction of all the noise and disturbance, forgetting about Eagar.

  The man ahead of her in line, a guard called Nare, lay dead ten feet away, his pony nowhere in sight. In front of him, a muffled shout carried to her.

  “Charlie!” she screamed, panicking. He’d been four ahead of her, Bryant and Hugh in the lead. She started forward, determined to find a way to him if she had to scale the cliffs to do so.

  Eagar pulled her back. “Don’t be a fool,” he hissed.

  “I don’t care. I have to get to Charlie.” Jane glanced at the steward. Behind him she saw Warren, the tracker, trying to quiet the horses. “Let go of me.”

  The pressure on her arm increased. “The explosion was set on purpose,” Eagar said, pulling her back to reality. “You’re in more danger than you realize.”

  She shook her head. “No. Who’d want to hurt—” She screamed as she saw the one responsible on the path behind them. “Capp’ear!”

  The sound of steel leaving a scabbard rang in the air. Eagar thrust Jane behind him, his sword drawn. Muttle joined him. Warren released the horses and took up a defensive position.

  Capp’ear dodged the animals as they swept past him. Jane saw dried blood on his tunic where he’d been stabbed by Charlie’s knife two weeks earlier. He was dressed in rags; dirt and mud clung to him from head to foot. She wouldn’t have known him except for the madness of his eyes.

  “Pretty lady,” he said, bowing to her.

  “Ye won’t have her,” Muttle yelled, launching himself into the air, his two knives brandished in a whirl of metal.

  All hell broke loose after that. Capp’ear and Muttle fenced up and down the narrow confines of the path, going at each other like a couple of demented Errol Flynns. Where had he gotten a sword? He’d been defenseless when he escaped.

  In the meantime, Eagar and Warren hacked at several creatures who’d slipped onto the path from the sheer ninety-degree-straight-down-to-the-river side of the cliff. Jane had seven-tenths of a second to realize they were sandobbles before two grabbed her from behind.

  “Charlie!” she screamed before they picked her up and handed her down the cliffside to another pair. Within a couple of minutes, she’d been bodysurfed to the river’s edge. They dumped her into a crude boat tied to an outcropping of rock. Clinging to the ledge like overgrown leeches, they snapped at her when she tried to disembark.

  Above, things looked grim for her rescuers. Warren was down, a host of sandobbles swarming over him. In moments, they covered him, cohering into a fluid unit, suffocating him.

  Muttle was nowhere in sight. Eagar had retreated, giving up the fight, allowing Capp’ear to be carried down to the boat by the sandobbles. Her nemesis freed the boat from its anchor and clambered aboard. The swift current pulled them away from the rocks.

  “Pretty lady,” he said, moving forward to touch her.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Charlie watched in horror as the nightmare unfolded before him. In the first confusing moments after the explosion, he fought through the debris and dust to make his way up the trail to Jane. But it wasn’t there. It was blown away, a ten-foot gap separating them. One man lay dead on the other side, two wounded on this side, a pony was missing and others were crying in pain.

  He heard Jane shout, then the sound of metal on metal. Fools! They’d strung themselves out too far, making such an attack possible. With their forces divided, she’d be easy prey.

  The dust cleared enough to show the sandobbles carrying Jane down the cliff. In moments, the fight had ended. With a dawning fear, Charlie knew he’d lost her. The little boat flowed into the current of the Fendi.

  He almost turned away, ready to meet with the others and plan her rescue, when he heard a victorious yell. Muttle, in a feat of remarkable acrobatics, threw himself across the distance to the boat, landing on Capp’ear’s back. Moments later, Eagar dove off the cliff. His timing was perfect, and he splashed into the water within reach of the others. He pulled himself aboard, and then he and Muttle fought Capp’ear. Jane threw herself into the fray as the boat rounded a bend and disappeared.

  “Hugh!” Charlie roared in the direction he’d last seen his brother. “Gather everyone together. We’re going after her.”

  “Oh, no you don’t!”

  Jane crouched lower in the boat and fumbled for the knife strapped to her leg. Capp’ear loomed over her, all but smacking his lips. She felt like a piece of French silk pie in the presence of a chocoholic.

  “Get back!” she yelled as she tried to figure out whether to continue struggling to free her knife or to try and knock him into the river. I should have cut the rope when I had the chance. But that would have taken me away from Charlie.

  Capp’ear squatted next to her, removing her advantage of leverage to tip him over the side. Jane scooted to the bow, ready to kick him where it would do the most harm.

  A shout from above caused her to look up. Muttle flew through the air and came down with a loud thump on Capp’ear’s back. He twisted in an effort to remove the Belwaith, but Muttle held on, lambasting the elf with a string of curses.

  Jane caught sight of another movement and heard a nearby splash. Eagar bobbed to the surface, emerging from the river’s depths. He swam over and grabbed the side of the flimsy boat. Boarding without looking at her, he joined the fight.

  Why should they have all the fun? Jane lunged at Capp’ear, whacking him on the head with the elbow of her good arm.

  The boat tilted, and they all shifted, losing their balance. The combatants collapsed like a house of cards, Jane landing on the bottom. Pain shot through her back and down her right leg. The struggle continued on top of her. Capp’ear’s clothes smashed against her nose, the stench making her ill.

  “Get him off me!” she yelled to her companions.

  A couple of sharp movements ground her farther into the boat, then a sudden stillness descended. Limbs untangled, and Capp’ear was rolled off her. Jane stared up at the black crispness of Eagar’s eyes.

  “Are you hurt?” he asked, slightly breathless.

  Since when do you care? She pushed away the ungrateful thought. After all, he’d jumped in after her.

  “Ask me again in an hour,” she said.

  He held out his hand to her. Gingerly, she took it, aware of his touch. Contrary to her expectations, her flesh didn’t shrivel, and nothing burst into flames. He felt cool and slightly damp from h
is dunking.

  Jane sat up and released his hand. She flexed her arms and legs, checking for injuries. Her shoulder twinged and her back ached, but it didn’t feel like anything serious.

  “Thank you,” she said, her gratitude to this man making her uncomfortable.

  He nodded, then glanced at the prone form of Capp’ear, slumped in an unconscious heap next to Muttle.

  “Give me your belt,” Eagar said to her.

  “It’s the only thing holding my pants up.” She’d abandoned her skirts in the first days of their journey.

  Jane fumbled with the pack around her waist, untying the strings. “Take my fanny pack,” she said, and held it out to him. She’d fashioned it out of a cloth pouch and strong cord.

  “Fanny pack?”

  Jane shook the bag in front of him.

  He took it and wrapped the cording tightly around Capp’ear’s wrists. Eagar moved to the bow of the small vessel. She scooted out of his way. He grabbed the rope that had anchored the boat to the cliff wall and held out his hand to Jane.

  “Give me your knife. I know you have one.”

  She hesitated. Relinquishing her weapon was tantamount to surrender. Eagar might have saved her, but he was hardly her friend. With Charlie lost, Muttle became her sole defender, and she didn’t think he was a match for the steward.

  “Don’t be a fool,” Eagar sneered. “It’s the only weapon we have. You’ll get it back.”

  Buried in my back or dragged across my throat? Jane pulled up her pant leg and drew the knife from its sheath. Reluctantly, she handed it over, alert to Eagar’s every movement.

  He cut the rope where it was attached to the bow and used it to bind the prisoner’s legs. Next, he tore a length from Capp’ear’s tunic and started to tie it around his mouth.

  “At least wash it first,” Jane exclaimed, revulsion filling her at the memory of its smell.

  Surprised, Eagar looked at her, one demonic eyebrow raised. He tossed the strip of cloth to her and waited while she dipped it into the river and rinsed away most of its filth.

  With Capp’ear safely trussed at her feet like a Thanksgiving turkey, Jane breathed her first sigh of relief.

  “What now?” she asked, looking from Muttle to Eagar. “Toss him in the river?”

  Eagar’s nostrils twitched. “He remains our prisoner until we join the others. Then he faces trial again.”

  A real stickler for protocol, aren’t you? “And throw him back in the Magwrosin?” Jane shook her head. “I don’t think so. I say we get rid of him now, before he calls his new friends, the sandobbles, and we’re all dead.”

  “He deserves a fair trial—”

  “And Nare and Warren deserved to live,” she shot back, angry. “Let’s not forget them.” She tried to push away the memory of their deaths, especially Warren’s, swallowed alive by the sandobbles. Who knew how Capp’ear communicated with them, or had enlisted their aid? Waking up, he might send out a telepathic distress call.

  “We’ll talk of this later,” Eagar said, his jaw firm.

  Jane bit her tongue. She’d save the argument for when she had more ammunition.

  “How do we land this thing and get back to the others?” She scanned the boat for a sail or oars. Neither was evident.

  Eagar looked at the sheer walls rising above. The Fendi poured between them like water in a tube.

  “I doubt if there’ll be a beach anytime soon. We’ll have to wait until we see one and hope the current slows enough that we can paddle over to it.” He squinted into the sky.

  Jane followed his gaze. The sun had already passed over the thin opening above the canyon. Shadows crept down the striated rock, signaling how close darkness lay.

  “Through the night?” Jane panicked. For the first time, she realized she was alone with a man who’d treated her almost as badly as Capp’ear. And her knife hadn’t been returned.

  Eagar shrugged and settled back against the side of the boat. “We have little choice. Make yourself comfortable. It’s going to be a long night.”

  “I don’t think so.” Jane spoke her thoughts out loud, hearing a sudden roaring. Her gaze swept the river ahead. “Eagar,” she said, wetting her suddenly dry lips. “There’s trouble ahead.”

  They survived the first waterfall. By sheer, dumb luck, they bobbed like a cork between rocks, scraping the hull in several places. White water foamed around them, pushing the small craft inexorably faster, hurrying it from one drop to the next. The chasm narrowed, pushing the crippled vessel around jagged boulders and plunging them six feet at a time to the next level. Finally, the river dumped them into a dark blue pool. The boat spun around before it resumed its journey downstream.

  Jane peeled her fingers off the wooden side. “That,” she said, trying to regain her breath, “was better than any ride at Cedar Point.” She’d never before considered a head-over-heels tumble along a river a good way to get down a mountain.

  Distaste marred Eagar’s features. Muttle, decidedly green around the gills, slumped against her. Capp’ear stared at her, his eyes wide with fear.

  “We could have been killed,” Eagar said, reproach in his voice. He made her feel like a muddy child.

  I bet you alphabetize the socks in your drawer. She’d never met a more Felix-Ungerish, rigid, anal man in her life. Charlie was regimented, but with a wild side just waiting to pop out. Unlike the steward. He probably schedules sex. The thought of Eagar in the throes of passion with anyone made her feel queasy. She shoved it away.

  “I laugh in the face of danger,” she scoffed. How long had she waited to use that corny phrase?

  “You’ll think different if we crash.”

  Jane shook her head. “Not going to happen. And if it does, I’ll survive. I’ve made it through fire and swamp, a stabbing and white water rapids. A little swim won’t be any problem.”

  “You think you’re invincible?” he asked with scorn.

  She nudged Capp’ear with her foot. He growled at her through his gag. “Our friend proved I’m not. But I’m destined for important things.”

  Eagar barked in laughter. “Conceited mortal. Do you think a great plan unfolds with you at the center?”

  Put that way, it did sound egotistical. “I think there is more to Lowth than meets the eye.” Understatement of the year, puffball.

  He swelled in anger. “I’ve given fifty years of service to this land. Do not speak lightly of it, Earthwoman.”

  Jane bristled. “Listen, Bluto, stop calling me that. My name is Jane.” It seemed as if she’d had this conversation once before. At least he didn’t call her Anjinaine. What would he say if he knew the truth?

  Muttle tugged on her arm, drawing her attention from the verbal sparring with Eagar.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  “Trouble.” He pointed to the bottom of the boat. A hole the size of a dime burbled, letting in a steady stream of water.

  Panic seized her. “Great, just great. I had to open my big mouth.” She turned to Eagar. “Cut off some more of Capp’ear’s shirt. I’m going to try to plug it. In the meantime, Muttle, start bailing.”

  “We don’t have anything to bail with,” Eagar said, unsteadiness in his voice.

  The man operates a castle, but he can’t handle an emergency.

  “Use your hands,” Jane yelled, scooping as fast as she could. She spotted another hole and swore. As she moved to the bow to plug it, her gaze caught an irregularity in the river ahead. She straightened and shielded her eyes from the contrast of the last light of the day and the darkened shadows.

  “Crap,” she said with vehemence. “Double, triple crap.”

  Eagar looked up. “Now what’s wrong?”

  She stared at the rise of rock rapidly bearing down on them. It neatly split the Fendi. “The proverbial fork in the road. Which way do we go?”

  Eagar sized up the situation. “To the right,” he said without hesitation. “Away from Malik.”

  “Away from Malik?” His decisio
n shocked her.

  He returned to bailing. “Unless you want to float into a goblin camp. The right fork loops back toward Isleighah.”

  Goblins or fairies? Not a tough choice. Leaving the other two to keep them afloat, Jane paddled.

  They swung around the curve, bumping against rock, grating the wood hull. Their vessel looked less a boat and more like Tom Hanks’s raft at the end of Castaway. Bouncing and bobbing in the swift current, Jane paddled and bailed and kept her eyes peeled for an opening in the canyon walls.

  “There. Head that way,” she shouted twenty minutes later, pointing to a small grove of trees in the distance. It offered the possibility of a landing.

  They abandoned their hopeless task of saving the boat and concentrated on heading it toward shore. The current pulled them to the river’s center. As they came within a hundred yards of their goal, Jane knew why. The sound of rushing water changed to a telltale roar. Looking ahead, she saw the river fall away into . . . nothing.

  “Another waterfall,” she cried in alarm. They wouldn’t survive this one; Niagara looked like a wave pool in comparison. “Get out!” She grabbed Muttle and threw herself overboard.

  Charlie swore. They’d made terrible progress since the explosion. Two of the guards, Enwl and Dimus, had been hurt, but were well enough to ride. Leaving them behind never entered Charlie’s thoughts, though worry about Jane’s safety ate at him.

  The men could do little to help the injured ponies. Bryant ordered their destruction. He and Hugh disposed of them as humanely as possible. Charlie shook his head at the waste of life Capp’ear and the sandobbles had caused.

  A saddened party of six continued the journey downstream, four horses between them. Bryant and Hugh were in the lead, then the two injured guards, Alfted from the village, and Charlie in the rear. They moved at a slow pace due to the dangerous narrowness of the trail and for the benefit of those who walked.

  Bryant called a halt as the shadows grew longer.

  “We’re endangering ourselves,” he said. “We must stop.”