What Do You Say to a Naked Elf?

by Cheryl Sterling

“No,” Charlie argued. “As long as there’s light out—”

  Hugh stepped in front of his brother. “He speaks the truth, Charlie. We can’t be stumbling around in the dark on these narrow ledges. Stopping is the sensible thing to do.”

  Charlie didn’t want to be sensible. He should have been the one to jump in the river after Jane. He should have rescued her from Capp’ear, as he’d done at the swamp.

  Bryant touched his arm, drawing his attention. Charlie saw pain and sorrow in his eyes.

  “I lost her mother. I’m not about to lose my daughter. Another trail splits off from this one a mile farther. It leads to the top of those other cliffs. We can camp there for the night.”

  Charlie looked at the swift current of the Fendi, willing it to dry up, stopping Jane’s progress. She must be miles downstream by now. Knowing he did the right thing, but not liking it, he nodded in acceptance.

  They set up camp, easing the injured men from their mounts and making them as comfortable as possible. Dinner was dried rations. As exposed as they were, they couldn’t afford a fire.

  Charlie took third watch. Rest’s new moon rose in the blackest part of the night. He remembered other moons, full and glowing, a lifetime ago on Midsummer’s Eve. That night he’d first made love to Jane.

  And only once since then. Would he have another chance? She’d been so sick, then so prickly. And angry, and now vanished. How could he not have told her how he felt? She was the moons to him, and the stars, and all the other worlds to which Lowth connected. He couldn’t deny he wanted her to stay when this ended. He’d chased after her for weeks now, though it seemed as if he’d fled her most of that time. No more. Once he had her safe again, he’d tell her he loved her. This journey had taught him that delays and postponements were mistakes when it came to reality. Tomorrow isn’t always a possibility.

  Hugh clamped his hand on Charlie’s shoulder, making him jump. “My watch,” he said, and sat down next to him. “Go rest. You’ll need your strength for when we find her.”

  Charlie nodded but did not move. “I love her,” he said into the darkness.

  “And no one knows this? Ah, perhaps the lady herself. You spar too much and love too little.”

  “I follow my older brother in that habit,” Charlie said, trying to see Hugh in Rest’s feeble light.

  “Mara and I are happy now, and you and Jane will be as well.”

  “As soon as I find her, set her on course for Malik, help her overcome Blacwin, end the Dymynsh, and send her home?” Charlie shook his head. “I don’t see happiness here.”

  Hugh chuckled. “Something will happen. It always does.”

  “That’s what frightens me. Too much has happened already.”

  Silence held between the brothers, broken only as Slumber appeared on the horizon.

  “Do you still feel her?” Hugh asked.

  The vibration in Charlie’s wings lessened with each passing hour. He feared it might disappear before he found her.

  “Yes,” he said to allay Hugh’s doubt. “I feel her. I’ll always feel her.”

  Jane gasped and pushed the remaining few inches up the riverbank. Mud sucked at her legs. With her last ounce of strength, she pulled free and collapsed, her breathing hard and irregular.

  She moaned as every ache and pain introduced itself. Like a wedding reception line—hi, I’m elbow, all scraped up. Hello, I’m knee, I used to work with femur.

  Muttle, glued to her since they’d jumped from the boat, disentangled himself. He made a squishy sound as he sat down.

  “Lady Jane?”

  “Hmmm?” Rolling to her back, she stared into the inky sky, hoping the unfamiliar stars would swallow her whole.

  “Ye be well?” Concern filled his voice.

  “Ducky, Muttle. Nothing a Valium and a fifth of whiskey couldn’t fix.”

  “Where be Eagar?” he asked, twisting his head to look out to the river.

  Over the edge? Jane pictured the steward flailing wildly as he tumbled into oblivion. A smile curved her lips. “Don’t know, don’t care,” she said. Her heart still pumped frantically from her exertions. It had been all she could do to save herself and Muttle. Capp’ear and Eagar ranked last in her worries. She wanted nothing more than to lie in the mud.

  Muttle straightened, his thin body alert. “He be alive.” He stood, shivering.

  Jane moaned and hauled herself into a sitting position. “Where?”

  The Belwaith pointed into the night. “There.”

  She saw exactly . . . nothing. With great effort, she rose to her feet and took a couple of stumbling steps. “Eagar?”

  “Jane? Help me.” The man’s weakened voice came from her left.

  Those are three words I never expected to hear. ‘]ane,’ not ‘Jane Drysdale of Earth,’ and ‘help me.’ Self-sufficient, always-in-control Eagar needs a hand.

  Her body protested, but she slogged through the water until she saw him. He swayed against the current, his arms barely holding the still-bound Capp’ear.

  “Is he alive?” she asked, rushing to the steward’s aid . Between the two of them, they moved Capp’ear onto the bank.

  “I don’t know.” Eagar’s hand trembled as he passed it over his bald head. “I grabbed him before he could go over. He was unconscious then.”

  Unconscious or dead? Jane clamped her ear down on his chest. She couldn’t tell over the sound of the rapids, but his heart had either stopped or was too weak to hear. He definitely was not breathing.

  “Right,” she said, grim determination taking over. “Untie him.” When Eagar did not move, she lashed out at him. “For God’s sake, he’s no threat the way he is now. At least take his gag off.”

  The older man produced the knife—her knife—and sliced through the gag and ropes.

  Jane bent over and stifled the revulsion welling in her. Ya gotta do what ya gotta do. Trying to think only of the mechanics involved, she started CPR.

  It seemed forever before Capp’ear jerked spasmodically and coughed up a good share of the river. Jane sat on her heels and watched in sick fascination as he came back to life.

  Auntie Em, some of it was horrid, and parts of it were beautiful, but the whole time I kept thinking, I want to go home.

  She closed her eyes, determined to sit all night, like some kind of mud-encrusted gargoyle. She didn’t have the strength to lie down.

  “Jane?” Eagar said softly. His hand touched her shoulder. She wanted to jerk away but couldn’t make herself move.

  “We must seek shelter.”

  Her head lolled back, tilting farther and farther as gravity took over. Her vision swept past his face until she looked at the stars again.

  “Must we?” The words dragged past her lips.

  “We’re in unfamiliar territory with little defense. Come, you can rest soon.” He helped her to her feet. Half-supporting her, with Muttle and a weakened Capp’ear following, he started back the way they’d come.

  With Muttle’s infrared-like vision guiding them, they found a cave. It was above flood level and a thick bush covered the opening. Jane collapsed on the cool floor, not moving once she was down.

  “There’s food in my fanny pack,” she whispered, hunger the last thing on her mind. Closing her eyes, she fell asleep.

  Morning brought the promise of a new beginning. Muttle caught some fish and Eagar smoked them in wet leaves over a small fire. Well-fed and rested, they started the steep climb to the top of the next cliff. From there, they could watch the river and keep an eye out for Charlie and the others. If all went well, they’d meet up before the day ended. She couldn’t wait to see him again. He deserved an apology for her surly mood. So what if he hadn’t told her about her ears?

  Capp’ear, unfettered, followed behind them. His demeanor had changed since they’d pulled him from the water. He said little and watched Jane constantly, but in a more puppy-dog than fringe-lunatic kind of way.

  They’d almost reached the summit when Muttle, ahead of Jan
e, stopped, his body at attention.

  Someone comes.

  Who? Her mind filled with images of Charlie, sandobbles and goblins. She thought to warn Eagar, but he and Capp’ear had fallen behind, around a bend in the trail.

  Two. One is elf. The other . . . Muttle broke off and stared at her, his eyes whirling green and orange.

  Jane glanced around, but there was no place to hide. Rock and gravel and an occasional straggly bush lay everywhere she looked. Except down. Down offered an eighty-foot drop.

  A voice boomed above them. “Hello! We mean no harm.”

  Isn’t that what the evil aliens always say? Jane took a step back, ready to flee. She looked up at the man who approached them. And saw an Adonis. A hunka-hunka burnin’ Elf. Tall and tanned. Buff. Long, flowing dark hair and emerald green eyes.

  Good grief, she thought. It’s a good thing I’m in love with Charlie.

  She held out her hand and stopped, a memory teasing her. The morning mist shimmered behind him. It shimmered again. For some reason, Jane thought of a rabbit. Her mouth went dry.

  “Tivat?”

  He smiled, his teeth dazzling white.

  The sound of loose gravel on the trail drew her eye upward. Her heart lurched at the sight of the woman scrambling down the trail.

  “Mom?”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Jane moaned and opened her eyes to bright daylight. She turned her head and realized she lay on the ground. Her mother knelt nearby, hands fluttering.

  Jane stared, believing her to be part of a horrifying dream. Or maybe Tivat’s presence had made her hallucinate—if this was Tivat. An unlikely event, as she’d killed him and had a murder conviction to prove it. She groaned and looked away, trying to make sense of this new wrinkle.

  “You’ll be fine, dear. You’ve had too much excitement,” Marion Drysdale said, smoothing her daughter’s brow.

  You don’t know the half of it, Jane propped herself on her elbows. She had to break this habit of passing out; it ruined her self-image of being the most unfaintiest person around.

  “Mom? What are you doing in Lowth?” She slowly sat up.

  “I could ask the same of you, but John and I figured you must have fallen into the portal after you hit him.”

  “John?”

  “John Tivat. I’m sure you’ve heard his name mentioned since you came to Lowth—”

  “Yeah, it’s come up once or twice,” Jane replied, her voice bitter. If she hadn’t killed him, why had it taken a month and a half for him to return?

  “Such a nice boy,” Marion said.

  Jane’s gaze strayed to where he stood in the near distance, arguing with Eagar in low, heated tones. Interesting. She tried to tune in her new ears to their conversation, but the pair spoke in a dialect she didn’t understand.

  Speaking of dialect, she realized she and her mother had been talking in English. “Where did you learn Elven?” she asked, yanking her sleeve up to display her tattoo.

  Marion blanched. She sat down hard, her face twisted with myriad emotions. “Oh, dear,” she said after a few moments.

  “Yeah, oh dear,” Jane lashed out. All of her hurt and betrayal rose to the surface. “Care to explain either of your trips to Lowth?”

  Marion’s eyes filled with sadness. She looked away from Jane, then back again. But instead of starting at the beginning, she took the coward’s way out.

  “When they told me of your accident,” she said, “I nearly went berserk. The next day, I drove to the spot where your car had been abandoned. Things didn’t feel right, and I started to look around for clues. Instead, I found John. Oh, not the way he is today, but in the form of a rabbit. A rabbit with green eyes. It’s a mighty strange sight on Earth, let me tell you. I knew right away it had to be connected to your disappearance, so I brought him home with me. He kept shapeshifting between bunny and man. Two weeks ago, he stabilized and told me his story. We started making plans to return to Lowth. I wasn’t going to leave my baby alone.”

  Jane narrowed her eyes. “You blackmailed him,” she said, knowing full well that her mother couldn’t pass through the portal without Tivat’s Elven companionship. She wondered why he hadn’t continued his flight.

  “I think I did mention gratitude and a mother’s concern, duty, honor and a few other choice synonyms,” Marion admitted, a sly grin on her face. “In the end, I persuaded him to come back and throw himself on the mercy of the court.”

  Jane glanced at the “court,” namely, Eagar. He was in a definite snit. His communication with Tivat had broken down. The two glared at each other, their looks and body language hostile. She’d give a million indrans to know what they’d said.

  “A pretty story, Mom, but it doesn’t explain why you’ve lied to me all my life.” She pushed back the curls from around her ears. “Or why I have Elf blood.”

  She couldn’t have planned better to get a reaction from Marion. Her mother’s hand fluttered to her heart, and a pinched look tightened her white face.

  “Oh, dear,” she said, her voice high. “When did this happen?”

  “About twenty-four years ago. It’s been latent until two or three weeks ago, when Charlie first noticed it—”

  “Charlie?” her mother asked, interrupting her tirade.

  “My lover,” Jane shot back, not caring to be polite or sweet or politically correct. “You should know about Elf lovers, Mom, as you took one while still married to Daddy.”

  Marion changed from white to gray. “How . . . how do you know this?”

  Jane flicked her right ear. “It’s evident, don’t you think? Besides, I heard it from Bryant’s own mouth.”

  “He’s alive?” The other woman pounced on her words. “Bryant’s alive? You’ve seen him?”

  “I talked to him yesterday.” Had it only been the day before? “We should meet him again today.” She didn’t want to go into the long story of the past six weeks.

  “I loved Bryant,” Marion said, her eyes alight. “It’s nothing I planned. When it looked as if I’d never return home, I made the best of the situation. An opportunity came to return home, and I did, however much it hurt. As for telling lies, Jane, would you have believed me? Can you believe it now that you’re here?”

  “We’ll talk about this later,” Jane said. It still chafed to know she’d been deceived. “It’s too much right now.” Despite her earlier feud with Charlie, she wanted to get back to him, to his common sense and logic. She wanted to crawl into his strong arms, warm herself in his embrace, and forget goblins and wizards and elves. Oh, my!

  The ramifications of Tivat’s return hit her like a freight train. Why would she continue on her trek to Malik if the reason for her punishment lived?

  Charlie spotted them as the sun reached its zenith. The sum of four ponies for six men and the worsening condition of the wounded slowed his progress. They had to walk the animals around fissures and cracks in the ground. The heat continued to rise, while the cool depths of the Fendi glided by far below.

  At noon, he caught sight of a clump of shadows bobbing in the distance. He looked to Hugh, who had better eyesight.

  His brother took his time answering, a frown on his face.

  “I think it is them,” he said. “But something is amiss. They are with two others, or it is a separate party of six.”

  Two others? What has she done now? Regardless, Charlie needed to see her.

  “Take my horse,” Hugh said, slipping from the animal. He handed over the reins. “I know you are anxious.”

  Charlie shot him a look of gratitude and mounted the beast. With a kick to its side, he galloped off.

  A shout rose from the other party as they spotted him. He was within a half mile when he saw movement to his left, on the edge of the cliff.

  Sandobbles!

  His heart in his throat, he watched them swarm up the side and close the short distance to the unsuspecting group.

  “Hey!” he called, knowing they couldn’t make out his words. H
e waved his hands over his head, his knees pushing the pony faster. “Danger! Attack!”

  Muttle! He tried to warn the Belwaith.

  A quarter mile separated them. He heard screams and saw Eagar shift to stand between Jane and the creatures.

  Charlie! Her cry echoed in his head.

  It was a reenactment of the debacle from yesterday. The quicksand beings surged over everyone standing and pulled them down. She and Capp’ear rode above them, mud hands holding them aloft. Charlie spurred his mount on, conscious of Bryant close behind.

  Capp’ear, no, don’t hurt my friends, Jane pleaded.

  The attacking sandobbles disengaged from their victims. Congealing into one liquid mass, they joined with those transporting Jane and Capp’ear. They flowed away with deceptive quickness, rolling across the landscape, already a quarter mile distant by the time Charlie passed the others. He goaded his poor pony forward, but his quarry had disappeared in the distance.

  “Halt! Charlie, stop!” Bryant shouted, grabbing his bridle and forcing his mount to a standstill.

  “No!” Charlie roared. “She won’t be taken away from me again.” Rage filled every inch of his being.

  “She already has,” the hunter pointed out. “Let us regroup, then we can follow.” He indicated an obvious trail: finger-sized lumps of mud dropped from the departed creatures.

  “We have to find her,” Charlie yelled, trying to regain control of his pony. He would not let Jane vanish from his life, not to rivers or crazed madmen or sandobbles.

  Bryant held the animal in check. His voice pounded like a hammer in Charlie’s head. “You’ll kill your mount, and yourself, galloping over this uneven ground. Listen to what I say! We have injured, weapons that won’t hurt the sandobbles, and Capp’ear is traveling too fast. We can’t fight this battle by ourselves.”

  “I can fight,” Charlie declared.

  “Not alone. Not for long. You saw what they did to Warren. Do you want to suffer the same fate?”

  “But Jane—”

  “Is my daughter. I’m not about to give her up.”

  Charlie hated listening to reason. Not pursuing Jane went against every instinct he possessed. But he had to acknowledge the other man’s wisdom. Again. They were in no condition to follow.