What Do You Say to a Naked Elf?

by Cheryl Sterling

  “I am your subject as well.”

  “What?” Of all the answers she’d expected, this one shocked her the most. “Wanna run that by me again?”

  He dipped his head in acquiescence. “You saved my life yesterday. For that I am in your debt.”

  Jane held out her hand to keep him at bay, then snatched it back, afraid he’d try to kiss it or something. “That . . . that’s okay. You’re welcome and all that. Why don’t we call it even and go our separate ways?”

  He looked crestfallen. “But I did great harm to you,” he said, moving closer to her. “Three times I tried to take your life, yet you had the compassion to save mine.”

  Jane stood up, angered. “You’d drowned, for God’s sake. I had to do something.”

  “Eagar said you gave me your own breath.”

  Ew, again. What goody-two-shoes motive had prompted her to do that?

  “I erred,” Capp’ear said, scrambling on his knees to bow before her. His voice was solemn. “The magic in you was hidden from me. I see now that you arrived for a purpose.”

  “I don’t want to be a queen!” Jane scuttled away from him. The sandobbles moved in.

  “My lady, you have no choice,” he said firmly.

  They stared at each other, a test of wills.

  We’ll see. If I can change a stubborn lawyer, I can change you. She’d have him thinking differently in no time.

  Later, settled in a bed of fragrant grass, she faced south. By the shadows against the sky from the waxing moons, she saw where the Andair Mountains lay. It comforted her to know that Charlie might be looking at the same sky. This was the longest she’d been separated from him since coming to Lowth. She ached to feel his arms around her again.

  Soon, she thought. I’m here, my love. Second star to the right, straight on ’til morning.

  At breakfast, she passed on the freeze dried precooked eggs with bacon, the thought of ingesting them turning her stomach. Instead, she grabbed a couple of granola bars. The coffee boiled over, but it was hot and strong, waking her up to prepare her for the day’s activity—stalling.

  Except that Lowth finally decided to get into the act and put a damper on Capp’ear’s plans. The rumble of thunder from the mountains reached her as she woke. Dark clouds gathered over their far-off peaks, and she saw flashes of lightning.

  They packed their meager possessions and Capp’ear extinguished the fire. Jane noticed with interest that the sandobbles stood back from the flames. Pottery in the making? She stored the information away for later.

  By midmorning, they reached the next stream to spill into the Ilian. It surged forward, swollen with rainwater, overflowing its banks. The sandobbles minced around it, retreating from the swift current.

  Jane stood with her hands on her hips, her gaze on the stationary storm over the mountains. Had she caused it, some latent backwash from yesterday? But no, Lowth had answered when she called, albeit weakly. Her still-damp shoes could testify to that. It must be operating on its own, delaying their passage north. Its actions verified her theory that Lowth was a living entity and knew of her presence. And had plans.

  I’ll play along. It felt creepy but comforting that she’d escaped serious injury so far because she had a benevolent planet watching out for her.

  “Are we crossing here?” she asked Capp’ear.

  He shook his head. “No, we must go upstream.” He looked resigned to the delay.

  They turned east. Within an hour, they met a smaller creek joining the first. They couldn’t ford it either and curved south. So lay their journey the rest of the day, spiraling east and south, as if Lowth had chosen this place to make a stand.

  Jane fell asleep the second night of her captivity within sight of the borders of Isleighah.

  “No!” Charlie cried, all other words stuck in his throat. He stumbled backward until his knees hit a bench. He sank onto it and looked from King Tuniesin to Rasleigh. “There must be some mistake. She couldn’t be my mother!”

  “The Elf in you is pure, descended from generations of Malinese royalty,” the king clarified.

  “No,” Charlie said again, shaking his head. “I do not accept it.”

  Rasleigh stood, his posture defensive, his hand on his knife hilt. “You question your monarch?”

  “No, no, I did not mean—My monarch?” Events moved too quickly to assimilate.

  “You are descended from generations of the Leander family.” Tuniesin said, an edge to his voice. “As such, you owe allegiance to me—though, in truth, we are equals.” He smiled to soften his words. When Charlie did not respond, he added, “One day, you will be king as well.”

  King! He hadn’t had time to think of the possibility.

  “If we had known that you remained unaware,” the king said, “we would have made contact earlier. As it was, we respected Largare’s wish to explain your existence. We did not know of his death until much later, after you had started to work for King Garmade and lived under his protection.”

  Charlie took a deep breath. “Parts of your story puzzle me.” He waited for the other man to nod before he continued. He did not want any more miscommunications. “Why didn’t King Garmade”—Grandfather, he thought in shock—“know of his daughter’s—my mother’s— presence here?”

  Tuniesin hesitated. He and Rasleigh exchanged a meaningful glance. The monarch nodded his head and turned back to Charlie.

  “When Largare rescued Elaine from the goblin prisons, she’d suffered much. They . . . broke her. She knew little but her first name. We did not connect her with the king’s daughter. We did not know of the princess Elaine’s disappearance. We are a reclusive community. Sometimes too reclusive.

  “Her health remained delicate. Largare stayed at her side constantly and, after a time, they married. It was as she expected you that her memory strengthened even as her physical health weakened. She made Largare promise to take you to Malin, to have you introduced to the court and officially named. I think she knew she would not survive your birth.”

  Charlie sighed. All his life he, as most Malinese, had heard stories of princess Elaine. He’d never connected her with his unknown mother. In some dusty corner of his mind he’d occasionally wondered if he’d ever meet the woman who’d given birth to him. Not to disrespect Claire Tanner, whom he loved, but a niggle of curiosity remained.

  “What of the servants?” he asked. “Largare did not travel all the way to Malin without at least a nurse.”

  “He had a nurse, and two other servants as well. They did not return after the journey ended. It was thought they stayed in Sylthia. We did not know their fate until later, when the nurse returned for a visit.

  “It seems a love triangle developed between the servants. One of the men killed the other and ran away with the nurse. Largare journeyed alone with you.

  “I apologize,” King Tuniesin said. “We do not travel often. The care of Isleighah and Kerreleigh take up our time and resources. The Dymynsh has crippled the planet. It’s all we can do to hold it back. However, that is no excuse. We should have paid more attention to our own. For that, we owe you much.”

  He rose, and to Charlie’s astonishment, closed the few steps between them and knelt at his feet. “Welcome home, Charles, Prince of Sylthia, Earl of Leander, heir to Malin, future ruler of the Elves.”

  “Do not call me so,” Charlie said. “I don’t feel comfortable with the titles. Or the honor.” He helped the other man to his feet. They stood face-to-face.

  “It will take some getting used to,” Tuniesin said, a smile on his lips. “I imagine you will want to tell your grandfather before it becomes common knowledge.” He glanced around at the others in the room. “I will swear to the discretion of those here. Because of the markings and color of your wings, you will be known only as a kinsman of the Leander family.”

  “Then, as a kinsman, I ask for your assistance.” Charlie hadn’t forgotten Jane and her plight.

  “Ah, yes. Bryant’s daughter and your . .
. ?” Tuniesin sat back in his chair.

  Charlie was not offended by his inquiry. “My love,” he answered. “I have never loved a woman thus, even though she causes trouble wherever she goes.”

  The king laughed, his teeth white and even. “The queen is much the same. If your Jane is anything like Wellonna, we will be needed to pick up the pieces of the sandobbles and this Capp’ear person.”

  Charlie nodded. “You hit closer to the mark than you might think, sire. I have a plan that will do almost exactly that.”

  Later, alone with Hugh, Charlie paced the floor of his room. After a promise of help from the king and an early morning start, the brothers had retired for the night.

  “Well, sire.” Hugh chuckled. “I did not expect such a story when I picked you out of the brambles so many years ago.”

  “Perhaps you would have picked a better name if you had,” Charlie scoffed. “King Charlie! Ha! A very unnoble name.”

  Hugh cocked his head. “It suits you. You will make a fine king. And what of me? Am I now your squire? How may I serve Your Majesty?” He lowered himself in an exaggerated bow.

  Charlie threw a pillow at him. “I did not ask for this and can hardly believe it is true. How would you react if you were told such news?”

  Hugh arrayed himself over a plush chair. “I would order up pretty girls by the dozen and ride fast horses.” He waggled his eyebrows. “Or perhaps the other way around.”

  A second pillow joined the first. “You are happily married now, and would not be unfaithful to Mara.”

  His brother nodded. “You know me well, Charles, future king of Malin. You will not change, either. Jane will love you in spite of your title.”

  Charlie spun around, anger in his voice. “Do not jest. I am worried for her. If she survives . . .” He stopped and drew a breath, pushing away the ugly images his mind had created in the past two days. He hadn’t had a chance to apologize to her after their fight. Guilt ate at him. “This will change what I have with Jane. I had little to offer her before. Now? A kingdom. She will run from the responsibility. I want to run from the responsibility.” He thrust his hand through his hair in agitation. “With Tivat alive, her sentence is void. She will want to return to Earth as soon as we can find the portal.” The news of Tivat and Marion arriving in Lowth at a spot other than near the Sentinel shocked him. “I cannot follow her and live on Earth.”

  Hugh rose and clapped a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “That is a discussion you will need to have with her, isn’t it? I do not see either of you shirking your duties. As for the portal, we elves can sense its fluctuations. We will find it for her to use, if she still wishes, which I doubt. In regard to her well-being, you still feel her, do you not?”

  Charlie bent his head. The admission came hard. “It grows weaker.” The vibrations in his wings that acted as a compass toward Jane lessened with each hour. What would he do without her? How could he let her go?

  “Ah, then let me tell you what I know,” Hugh began.

  A tap on the door interrupted him. Charlie crossed and opened it, letting in Bryant. Putting aside his problems, he asked, “How are the others?”

  “Fair,” the older man replied. He looked around the suite.

  Charlie remembered his manners. If either mother could see him, they’d have boxed his ears for rudeness. “Will you have a drink?” At the other’s nod, he crossed to the small bar and poured three glasses of vestale. They sat.

  “Tivat is the healthiest,” Bryant replied, swallowing the liquid as if a man parched. “He waits in self-imposed isolation until Eagar can convene a trial for his crimes. Eagar is weak, but awake. The doctors say he will recover with bed rest.”

  “And Muttle?” Charlie asked. The Belwaith’s injuries had shocked him the most.

  “Muttle drifts in and out of consciousness. When I visited, he said, ‘Sixth stream.’ I don’t know what it means.”

  Hugh shifted in his chair. “I might.”

  “Marion,” Bryant continued, then broke down, unable to hide his worry. “She is the worst. The doctors—”

  “Will do their best. Isleighah has magic. This is the best place for her,” Charlie reassured him. He placed a comforting hand on the hunter’s shoulder. He could see the man still cared deeply for the mortal.

  After a few moments, Bryant composed himself. “Yes, I know this is true. If we had stayed on the cliffs—”

  “You forced me to make the decision to come here.” Good or bad, Charlie knew he’d been unable to avoid his heritage.

  “We must hope for the best,” Bryant said. “However, I come tonight to offer my help in the morning. I’ve heard you ride out to save my daughter. I would like to accompany you.”

  Charlie hadn’t known how to ask the hunter to leave with them. He played a part in the plan, yet tearing him from Marion’s side might be difficult.

  “Good. We’ve great need of you.” Charlie turned to Hugh. “What did you mean, a few moments ago? What do you know?”

  “There is unusual weather to the west,” his brother replied. Briefly, he explained to Bryant his talent for forecasting the weather. “A storm rages in the mountains, but it doesn’t move. It’s associated with Jane. Either she controls it, or it’s done for her benefit. Muttle’s words of the sixth stream give more clues. The sixth stream that flows into the Ilian has many inlets. I believe she is near its banks. The storm is centered in an area that feeds its streams. It has flooded and the sandobbles cannot cross without washing away.” He sat back, his wide grin evidence of his satisfaction.

  Charlie stared at him in astonishment. He’d always taken Hugh’s predictions as truth but had never looked into their intricacies. “You can feel all this?” he asked.

  Hugh nodded. “Just as you will feel Jane’s presence as we draw nearer. Between the two of us, we’ll find her, wherever she’s hidden.”

  Charlie’s heart soared. He allowed hope to ignite in his breast. Tomorrow he would see her again.

  He spent another hour explaining the plan to Bryant and refining it. It neared midnight when the three men separated. Charlie was about to extinguish his light and try to sleep when another knock on his door announced King Tuniesin.

  “Only a moment of your time,” the monarch said, waving away the other’s bow. “I bring you a gift from the lady Wellonna. She is your kinswoman, by the way. She does not rise early, but wanted you to have this before we ride out.” He presented Charlie with a white box.

  Charlie took it to a nearby table and opened it. Inside, wrapped in muslin, lay a vestlike garment, lightweight, soft green in color. He lifted it by one corner.

  “My gratitude,” he said. “But what is it?”

  Tuniesin grinned. “It is the Leander crest and colors. She felt pleased to find it at such short notice.”

  Looking closer, Charlie noticed fine, darker lines that resembled the markings in his wings. The color matched as well.

  “What is this?” he asked again, noticing the two slits in the back. Trepidation made his voice deep.

  “It is called a jouroke, traditional garb for you to wear when you fly into battle tomorrow.”

  Fly?

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Clear-eyed, his jaw firm with determination, Charlie sat astride his mount the next morning. Sleep had eluded him. The dark hours magnified the sudden complexity of his life. Twin responsibilities jockeyed for prominence and decisions.

  In some ways, the alien concept of flying seemed the easiest choice. All he had to do was fall flat on his face, and no more pressure would be applied to try again. Running a kingdom, however, posed multiple problems, the least of which would be the reaction of Eagar and King Garmade.

  Charlie struggled with the questions in the blackest part of the night—of the king’s frail health and Eagar’s ambition. Dare he present himself to them, claiming to be a long-lost heir? Dare he not, and deny his heritage, however unwelcome?

  And Jane? I’ve not told her of my feelings. How can
I ask her to take on the responsibility of a kingdom? Yet I must. It would not feel right to delay telling her.

  He could no longer wish for days gone by, of routine and sameness. They’d disappeared weeks ago. A new path was being forged, and he had a role as a leader. How many times had Jane said she felt like a player in a game controlled by others, even by Lowth itself? The same fate carried him as well.

  Charlie rose from his bed that morning, all illusions and childish wishes swept away. He donned the gift of the jouroke, the lightness of its weave a heavy burden to wear.

  The sky changed from gray to pearl to rose. The men and women of Isleighah gathered in Kerreleigh’s outer courtyard. All wore jourokes of various colors indicating their family lines. Charlie watched with a new interest. A similar group waited in Malin for his eventual rule. Could he do it?

  It depends on Jane. Everything depends on Jane. Without her at his side, he didn’t want to exist, let alone rule a kingdom. Even as the thought formed, he knew he had no choice.

  A murmur washed over the crowd. They parted to clear a path for King Tuniesin, Lord Rasleigh and the small group of royalty accompanying the rescue party.

  King Tuniesin smiled as he approached, his green eyes snapping like the banners that hung from the boughs of Kerreleigh.

  “Well met, Charles Whelphite, kinsman of Queen Wellonna,” he said, his voice raised for the crowd’s benefit. He looked over them, satisfaction playing on his lips. “It is a good day to hunt sandobbles.”

  A roar of appreciation rose in the soft air. Even the leaves of Isleighah nodded in agreement.

  “Are you ready, kinsman?” Tuniesin asked.

  “I am, sire,” Charlie replied. “A great debt is owed to the citizens of Isleighah for the aid you give us this day.” Charlie turned in his seat and indicated his companions, travelers on a long road with him. “I bring my brother, Hugh Tanner of Malin, Alfted, a marksman of Sylthia, and the hunter Bryant of Malik, father to the captive.” A feeling of pride swelled in him. Their number might be small, but they’d survived many adventures together.