Captive

by Lori Holmes

  He straightened his back, distancing her and his voice. When he answered, it was in a sharper tone than he intended. “What do you think? You don’t expect me to just sit here placidly, do you, waiting for you to come back?”

  “You tried to climb out?” she asked incredulously. “You can’t climb out of this Pit. It’s sheer rock.”

  He tried to ignore the flash of hurt and betrayal that tightened her eyes. It was no less than what she had done to him over the past days.

  “So I found,” he muttered. He lapsed into silence, awaiting an explanation for her absence. He felt he was owed one, though he could not guess why. Her business was none of his.

  She shifted where she crouched. “I’m sorry I did not come yesterday,” she offered in apology but no further explanation of her absence was forthcoming.

  Huh. He tried not to feel concerned for the worry that did not leave her eyes. Something had happened. He could feel it.

  “Here,” she offered him the smallest piece of root.

  He frowned as his stomach rumbled. Two days of not eating and this was all she could bring? He chose not to say anything. “Thank you, she-elf.”

  “Nyriaana,” she tried. “It’s Nyri. Can’t you remember, Juaan?”

  He knew what she was called but he shuddered away from the sound of it. “Khalvir,” he reminded her sternly. “And of course I don’t.”

  He had to get her off this subject. He bit into her offering. The bitter tang, same as those foul roots he had expelled from the pit, seeped onto his tongue. He resisted the urge to spit. He forced the bite down his throat without really chewing. “This is awful! What is this?”

  His discomfort was almost worth the bitterness when his reaction drew a smile from her, the expression of dread on her face dispelling for a brief moment. “Gora root.” She explained as her lips twisted in amusement. “It’s very good for you. Makes you big and strong.”

  “Whoever told you that complete and total-?”

  “Never mind.” She cut him off with a shake of her head. “It’s a private joke. Just eat.”

  He had faced worse hardships. He ate the vile root.

  By and by he realised she was staring at him again in that way she had of making him feel very self-conscious. “What?”

  She reached a hand towards his face in an unconscious motion. Part of him wanted to let her touch him, to feel her warm skin on his again. The other half of him knew that was why he had to resist. He shied away. Her lips pulled down as she dropped her rejected hand. Instead, she touched her fingers to her own chin. “You have hair here.”

  “Yes…,” he said slowly, raising an eyebrow at her query.

  She shook her head in wonder. “It’s… strange. I’ve never seen anything like it before.”

  Surprise flickered through him. “Your people don’t grow beards?” He sifted through his memories of every elf male he had ever seen. He realised none had ever had a beard.

  “Beards?” she tested the word on her lips.

  The look of puzzlement on her face was so endearing, so innocent, he found he could not be annoyed by her continued scrutiny. “You are very strange, elf,” he said, amused.

  Her embarrassment was clear and he saw the defensiveness deepen the frown sitting between her brows. “What is this ‘elf’?”

  “That’s what you are, aren’t you?” he provoked her with her own previous words to him. “It’s what we call you.”

  Her reaction was better than he expected. Her chin lifted fiercely. “I am not an elf. My people are the Ninkuraaja, created by the holy Ninmah.”

  She had to know how pompous that sounded.

  “Oh really.” He raised his eyebrows. He was enjoying this more than he cared to admit. His heart thrilled at the sight of the vital reactions in her eyes. He had thought to never see them again and he drank everything in.

  “So what do Woves call themselves?” she huffed.

  Her words punctured his enjoyment and his face fell, realising he had been letting himself go too far. “We have clan names.” He looked down at the remaining gora root in his hand searching for a way to change the subject. “Is this all you can bring to eat?”

  This reaction, he did not expect. Fury blazed in her eyes. Before he could blink, she was on her feet, leaning over him, shaking with anger. “Yes, as a matter of fact it is!” she spat. “Thanks to your ‘clan’ we now no longer have enough food to get us through the Fury. You took most everything. You are lucky to get that, believe me, Forbidden.”

  It was the first time she had looked at him in such a way, like he truly was her enemy. He was amazed at how much that wounded him. He mulled over her words. Only now did he realise that her face was very different from the first time he had seen her. She was half the weight she had been; her cheekbones stood out too clearly.

  Who knew what she had to go through to bring him this food, the bare remains of what his raiding party had left them with. The hardship of the elves would once have meant little, faceless enemies that he cared nothing about. Now the suffering he had caused was plain to see. She was starving on her feet.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, meaning for so much more than his careless words. “That was wrong of me.”

  “Huh,” she grunted. “Small comfort that is to the old and the young who will die this Fury from starvation.” She stopped as her voice cracked upon the last.

  It tore at his heart. “I’m sorry.”

  He knew his words would never be enough but her anger burned out. She sank back to the ground, spent, looking far older than her years. “No, I’m sorry,” she sighed, staring at the ground. “You don’t need to hear.”

  He shifted uncomfortably. He had nothing to offer her to make up for his crimes, except- “Are you hungry?” he asked gently.

  She shook her head. “No.”

  He almost laughed at the role reversal. Well, two could play at this game.

  “Here.” He moved to break off a piece of the root for her. He had forgotten about his broken fingers. Pain sliced up his arm as he tried to use his hand. He could not control his reaction as his features twisted.

  She did not miss it. “Let me heal that.” She offered her hand.

  Instinctive fear seized him and he drew away. She was seeking to use her power on him, his all but forgotten resentment rose once more.

  “Please,” she appealed. “I don’t like to see you in pain.”

  He looked at her hand, then his own and back again, torn.

  “Please. Please trust me.” She stretched her hand out further, so fragile, so vulnerable. His hand was reaching for her fingers before he could think to stop himself. Confusion swamped him at this uncontrollable need to protect her. Her eyes pleaded with him, begging him to understand something beyond his reach.

  His resistance crumbled. “I’ll let you heal me but only if you eat something. You look like the wind could blow you away.” And he placed his hand in hers, feeling an instant relief as he did so, as if an incomplete part of his soul was now whole and healed by her very presence.

  Joy filled her eyes.

  He held very still as she worked. He could feel the whisperings of energy against his latent senses. Senses he usually ignored and pushed deep down. He had always refused to acknowledge any part of him that was elven. He held his breath expecting pain or at least discomfort but there was nothing. Only an easing of the agony like cool water washing over his hand. The bones in his fingers tingled pleasantly as she finished.

  He took his hand back and stared at what she had done. When she had healed his leg, he had not been conscious, now that he had witnessed her power at work, how easily she had mended shattered bones, anger and resentment flooded through him. It brought home to him how easily that elf could’ve-

  He couldn’t even let himself think of it. He felt hot tears start to prick in the corners of his eyes. That day had convinced him above all others that the elves were a despicable race that held no true power and his chief’s beliefs were no mo
re than madness.

  Now he knew how easily that elf could have done something and his hatred for the race found new depths. He was almost glad now of what he had done. He screwed his eyes shut so she wouldn’t have to see. Despite the rage coursing through him, none of it could be directed at her. This elf at least had a heart. Maybe she would have helped the child had she been there. “If only,” the murmur came unbidden.

  She caught his unguarded moment. “If only what?”

  He could not speak of it. He forced his grief and bitterness back into the darkest recesses of his heart and smoothed his expression. “You elves have a great power.”

  “Ninkuraaja.”

  “Yes.” He smiled. “That’s a bit of a mouthful.”

  She grinned. “It took you a long time to teach me how to say it properly.” She shook her head at his reproachful frown. “Never mind.”

  “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” She smiled at his heart-felt thanks.

  He dropped his eyes as his bruised heart squeezed at the sight of her smile. It only increased her beauty. He continued studying his hand instead. She was a powerful and skilled healer. Here he was, sitting with everything his chief hoped to possess.

  Unbidden, the thought of this girl in his chief’s grasp flitted through his mind and he was filled with a sudden despair that sucked his breath away. He could never allow it. He thought of the returning whistle he had detected on the barest edges of his awareness two nights before and regretted for the first time that his men were searching for him.

  “Thank me for that by not trying to escape again.” Her voice broke into his brooding.

  He raised his eyebrows at her. He should try to escape. He should get as far away from here as possible. If they found her with him-

  “I mean it.” Her lips twitched at his expression. “Please, promise me you’ll stay here and keep quiet. I wasn’t lying when I said the Elders had posted extra watch. They may patrol around close by. You cannot do anything to attract their attention. Please, for me, stay quiet and wait for my return. I will not leave you to die. Trust me.”

  And he did. He did not know when it had happened but that secret part of himself that he did not want to acknowledge had finally won out. He would trust this girl with his life. The thought of leaving her now, despite the danger being with him put her in, was unbearable.

  “What is it about you, elf?” he murmured. He wasn’t in control of himself anymore. He could no longer fight and, though his higher self screamed at the wrongness of it, he gave her his word. “I promise.”

  “Thank you.” She looked relieved. “They will kill you if they find you and I could not bear it if they did.” Her small hand came towards him again. The expression in her eyes made his heart pound. He found himself leaning away, frightened by what he felt. She ignored his resistance and placed her fingertips against his cheek.

  He was not prepared for what happened next. He gasped as his skin tingled under her touch and the intensity of his feelings increased twofold; her emotions were now his. He could feel her there inside his heart, blazing like fire. He could feel everything. Never before had he experienced anything like this and it left him breathless. She loved him with an intensity that hurt. Her words floated down to him as though from a great distance. “I can’t lose you again. Ever. You mean too much to me.”

  He pulled back, breaking the connection. He was aware of the wide-eyed surprise that was frozen upon his face but he was quite unable to do anything about it. He could not speak.

  Embarrassment coloured her expression at his lack of response. She dropped her eyes and left without a backwards glance, leaving him staring at the space she had occupied bewildered and confused.

  That night when a querying whistle came floating through the blackness, he did not raise his head to respond.

  * * *

  10

  Deception

  “Khalvir is alive.” Galahir faced the rest of the men.

  “You can’t know that.”

  “I heard him,” Galahir insisted. “Banak called and he answered.”

  All eyes turned to Banak. The other man shrugged. “We heard what we thought was a whistle but it was very faint. We might have been mistaken.”

  “I know it was him.” Galahir insisted. He refused to let the doubt that had crept into the minds of the rest of the men, sink into his own. Khalvir was trapped in the forest somewhere, awaiting rescue.

  “Why have we not heard anything since, then?”

  “I don’t know.” Galahir blew out a breath.

  Galahir had made sure he had been a part of the nightly hunting pair every time they mounted a search. He had not trusted the others to conduct their missions as wholeheartedly as he would. Even he had to admit, since that first tenuous contact, they had heard no further response from their missing leader. It was getting harder to convince the others that these forays were worth risking elven territory for.

  “Perhaps he cannot respond. Perhaps the elves are close and he cannot draw attention to himself. There could be countless reasons for him to remain silent.”

  He could see the skepticism on their faces.

  “They watch us every time we breach their borders. They are planning something, Galahir. We have been pushing our fortune. We need to stop now and wait until Lorhir returns with the Chief’s orders.”

  “It could be too late by then.”

  “Then what do you propose we do?”

  Galahir had been thinking long and hard about the issue. The previous nights’ forays had at least achieved the result of eliminating a lot of territory from their search. They were getting closer and Galahir was getting to know the forest now. Just a few more nights… but he could not search as he wanted with the elves peering over his shoulder. He needed to think of a way to throw their scent somehow.

  “We need to re-find the settlement, that is the most likely place that they are holding him, but we cannot do that with them watching us, it would provoke an attack for sure. The elves have got used to us sending in only one search party at a time,” Galahir voiced his idea slowly. “If we sent in one search party to draw their sentries away, they might not be expecting a second to follow.”

  “That’s a big leap, Galahir.”

  He shrugged. “It’s worth a try. We’ll put it to the test tonight.”

  There were murmurs of discontent. Galahir looked hopefully around the group but all avoided his gaze.

  “We’re not going back in there without reinforcements, Galahir.” Ranab spoke for them all.

  Galahir raised his chin, feeling his cheeks flush. “Then I will go back alone.”

  “Trying to shame us with your idiotic courage as usual, Galahir?” Banak said. Galahir opened his mouth but the other man cut him off before he could formulate a response. “Oh very well, I’ll help you this one last time, Galahir. Just tell me what you want to do.”

  * * *

  11

  Shadows

  The prevailing days were awkward. Neither could look the other in the eye following the outpouring of emotion that had taken place after she had healed his fingers. When she was not with him, Khalvir paced the pit restlessly. He was falling. He was falling for her.

  All his resistance had come to nothing. He had been lying to himself in thinking he ever had a chance. She had possessed him utterly from the first moment he had laid eyes on her. Never had he allowed such feelings. Never since- He banished the terrible memory.

  He knew there were women in his clan who wanted him. He was not oblivious to their admiring stares, the desire reserved for only the strongest of men. There were those who wanted him to Challenge for them, who wanted to be claimed as his mate. He knew he should. The clan needed to grow, to become ever stronger. But he resisted, paying their advances little mind, no matter how persistent; his lips twisted. He could not do it. The scars of what his chief had once made him do still haunted him too badly. He remembered too well how that had ended.

&
nbsp; Khalvir came up against a wall and pounded his fist against the rock in frustration. Every hardship that had befallen him had been because of his elven blood. How he wished he could be rid of it. And here he was falling for an elven girl as she tore down all of his defences.

  He resumed pacing. His fear of her falling into the possession of his chief was increasing by the day. He knew what he should do. He should drive her away, he should make her leave him. But his heart screamed at the thought, imagining the pain he would have to cause her. But if it saved her…

  Khalvir closed his eyes. He could not face the choice now. Leaves rustled above. She had returned.

  They chewed on the food she had brought in the silence that had become almost customary. He was not sure how to break it. He could not think of what to say to her.

  There was more colour in her cheeks today and she looked stronger than she had in a long time. He had been starting to fear that she would fade away right in front of him. In the last days, she had looked barely capable of standing; the rations she brought barely enough to keep a child alive. He had said nothing though. He had not wanted to upset her.

  Today he was pleased to see she had brought more, she had handed him two whole fruits. Her features, however, were no less drawn, there was an aura of guilt hanging over her as she gifted the food. He felt a shiver of concern. What had these extra rations cost her?

  “I have to leave now,” she finally broke the silence and Khalvir realised their time was already up. “I’m not sure when I can return. Things are about to get a little complicated.”

  He wondered how much more complicated things could get. “Why?” Disappointment thudded through him. Her visits were the only thing that got him through each long, mindlessly boring day.

  Her face twisted. “My… kinswoman,” she explained reluctantly, “lost her baby on the night your clan came-”

  Khalvir’s mind flashed back to that fateful night, to the very first time he had seen her. He would never forget her brandishing a stick at him as she stood in front of the pregnant girl crumpled upon the forest floor. “The girl who fell from the tree?” he clarified.