The Darkness of Glengowyn

by Isabo Kelly

  Long-festering pain lanced her, her chest tightening under the weight of it. Even as the Shaerta rose between them, the longing and need for him so strong she could barely keep from moving into his arms, the hurt of their break brought tears to her eyes.

  Appalled by the fact that he probably saw the shimmering wetness, she turned away. She tossed her remaining strips of material toward the couch. “Bind your leg. Bleeding to weakness out of stubbornness won’t help either one of us.”

  She left the sitting room to pace in the large foyer, carefully avoiding looking back at Einar.

  Chapter Four

  As Nuala waited on Einar, she checked her own body for injuries she might not have noticed. Her arm ached a little and a large bruise covered her upper biceps and shoulder, but otherwise, no cuts or broken bones.

  Her stomach growled as she returned to pacing.

  “You’re hungry,” Einar said.

  Surprised by his voice, she spun to face him. He was fully dressed again, his sword strapped back into place. Through the tear in his trousers she could see some of the green-blue silk of a bandage.

  “A little,” she answered. “What supplies I had fled with my mare.”

  “I’ve nothing either, I’m afraid.” He glanced at the front door, his scowl forming deep creases in his forehead. “I should have grabbed my saddle pack before we made for the city.”

  “We didn’t know how much time we had or who might be nearby.” She might not be able to deal with him on an emotional level. But he was the fiercest warrior in Glengowyn. And he’d helped save her life. She wouldn’t allow him to berate his actions in the heat of battle.

  She’d never allowed that.

  His lips lifted, as if he was remembering the same fact.

  Again, Nuala found herself short of breath. Einar was gorgeous when serious, but his smile, rare as it was, left her helpless against his male beauty.

  His expression remained soft, the bare smile not faltering as they stared at each other.

  Then her stomach growled again. The sound was loud in the quiet foyer and without meaning to, Nuala laughed. Surprised by her own outburst, she covered her mouth. “Sorry,” she mumbled around her hand. “I know we need to be quiet.”

  “In that case, we should feed you or the whole of Sinnale will hear your hunger.”

  She snorted again into her hand, trying to stifle her amusement. He smiled a little more at her reaction.

  In an attempt to return to the seriousness of the situation, she said, “I can do without for a while. We won’t be hiding for long. Besides, where would we find food in Noman’s Land?”

  “Some humans continue to squat in the buildings closer to Sinnale territory,” he said.

  But he frowned and she knew he’d considered the same thing she had.

  “We won’t be any more welcome by them than the border guards because we’re unknown elves.”

  He nodded. “I can go out and scavenge.”

  “No.” Fear tightened her throat. “I don’t think we should separate.” Though being around Einar was a kind of torture, letting him go into danger on his own was unacceptable. She didn’t care if he was the great and terrible Darkness of Glengowyn. If he got hurt, or worse killed, trying to find her food, she’d never survive it.

  He was silent for a long moment. Then, “When I call an owl, I’ll see if he might bring us some food.”

  “So long as it’s not a dead rodent.” She shivered, only half teasing.

  “As you wish,” he said so seriously, she burbled out another repressed laugh.

  “Until then,” he said, glancing at the front door, “rest. Take the sitting room. Try to sleep if you can. It will be a long night.”

  “And you?”

  “I’ll wake you in a few hours. You can watch while I rest.”

  She was afraid he wouldn’t sleep, that he wouldn’t bother to wake her. He’d been known to remain awake for days in battle and he would consider this a similar enough situation. “Promise me you’ll try to sleep, not just rest,” she said, even though she knew it was futile.

  “I would never promise you anything I might not be able to deliver.” His voice dropped to a quiet, deep octave.

  The sound sent tremors of tingling sensation through her stomach and down to her core. Again, she wanted to step into him, forgo her duty to Glengowyn, risk her magic, risk everything she was to have him. To lay him on the couch and fuck him until the world ended around them.

  Instead, she disappeared into the sitting room. She doubted she’d be able to sleep, but being near him eroded her will, and their situation was too precarious to risk giving in to the Shaerta. Or her years of yearning and love.

  To Nuala’s surprise, she did nap for a bit, blissfully without dreams. When Einar woke her, it was twilight dark. “You let me sleep too long,” she accused.

  “We can’t leave until it’s full dark. I’ll have time to rest.”

  She sat up on the couch, a move that brought her level with his groin. Still half asleep, she allowed herself to stare as memories of his thick, perfect cock tormented her. Oh the pleasures they could give each other.

  His growl startled her out of her erotic thoughts.

  “Don’t promise what you have no intention of seeing through,” he muttered.

  “Don’t I?” She was asking herself as much as him. They’d managed to avoid each other’s company for two centuries, despite living in the same city. She’d only glimpsed him on the rare occasions she was called to Court, and then there were so many others around, they were safe from this attraction between them.

  Now, with no buffers, no royal leaders watching their every move, she was no longer sure she wanted to resist him. Denying herself his love all these years had slowly killed something in her. That something seemed to be stirring back to life, and she wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to sacrifice that part of herself again.

  Why had the queen and king sent him to guard her? They must have known. Did they really think the centuries would dim her desire for Einar? Why did they tempt them this way if they valued her magic as it was?

  She rose. “I’m sorry. That wasn’t kind of me. With you…” She waved a hand vaguely in the air, not sure how to explain.

  “It’s the same for me. With you.”

  None of the exhaustion he must feel showed in his face, but knowledge that he had to be tired after the fight and the injuries forced her away from their personal desires.

  “I’ll keep watch. Try to sleep.” She gave him a level look, which brought out his slight smile, and she gave up. Shaking her head, she picked up her quiver and bow from beside the couch and draped them over her head to rest along her back, then headed toward the doorway and the window at the front door where she could keep an eye on the street.

  Before she left the sitting room, though, Einar called her back. “Take my knife. Just in case. Though if you see anyone, let me know immediately.”

  “I will.” She stared down at the knife, thoughts of the elf she’d actually killed rising up.

  “I…didn’t realize you’d learned to throw knives,” he said into the silence.

  “I’m not as good as I should be.” She shrugged. “Ulric insisted I learn. My talent with bow and arrow notwithstanding, he said I needed a second way to defend myself. Just in case.”

  “Your cousin is a good man. I’m glad he was able to teach you.”

  She slipped the borrowed weapon into her belt sheath. “I’ll wake you once it’s been full dark for a bit. Thank you for the knife.”

  She was at the doorway when his voice made her pause again.

  “He deserved to die, Nuala. Don’t regret killing the traitor.”

  Without turning, she said, “I don’t. But the fact that I could, that I had to, makes me…sad.”

  She left without saying more. This was not the time to discuss her regrets. There were too many anyway.

  Nuala caught sight of the small group of minions while they were a block away
. Torn between watching their progress and waking Einar, she decided she had time to wake him.

  Slipping on silent feet into the small sitting room, she knelt beside Einar and would have smiled if not for the approaching enemy. He was asleep.

  With a soft touch on his shoulder and a finger over his mouth, she murmured his name.

  He opened his eyes instantly, coming to full wakefulness without any of the lag time she usually required. Moving her finger from his mouth, she whispered, “Minions approaching from the southeast.”

  He flowed to his feet, grabbing his sword from where it lay on the floor beneath the couch. Nuala stepped back to give him room then followed him to the windows. The room didn’t have any curtains, but it was completely dark inside now. Still, he kept to the wall, deep in the shadows. She used his larger body to conceal herself.

  “There,” she said when she spotted an individual minion coming into view. They were only a few doors away, but it was obvious they were searching the buildings.

  “How did they find us?” she asked.

  “How large was the party?”

  She shrugged. “There were five when I first saw them.”

  “Small groups, then. The Sorcerers have probably sent an army of minions into Noman’s Land looking for us. Small groups can cover a lot of territory.”

  “What about the humans patrolling the area?”

  “As dangerous to us as the minions right now.”

  “Won’t they…complicate the search?”

  Her heart pounding, she watched as two minions entered the building across the street and two doors away.

  “Maybe,” Einar answered, his voice barely audible he spoke so quietly, “but that won’t help us now. We need to get to the roof.”

  “Is there time?”

  He held still for one more heartbeat, then grabbed her hand and tugged, moving swiftly and silently back through the room to the entryway. Without pause, he led her up the stairs, circling around and climbing until they reached the top floor. Once there, they had to search for some way they might access the roof.

  Cursing silently, Nuala studied the ceiling down one length of the hall while Einar searched the opposite side of the corridor. When she heard the front door open, she spun to face Einar. He was already moving toward her, faster than most elves could move. He swept an arm around her waist and hurried her to the window at the end of the hall.

  He studied it a moment, then opened it as quietly as he could but some noise squeaked out. They froze. The shuffle of feet in the foyer thudded to the stairs.

  “Fateesh,” he cursed and threw the window open, sticking his head out to study their surroundings.

  She watched the stairway, his knife in her hand, her entire body tense.

  “Onto my back,” he ordered in that barely audible whisper.

  “What…?”

  But he didn’t give her time to question his plan. He grabbed her arm just above her elbow and swung her around to his back with a strength that surprised even her. She clung to his neck with one arm, careful not to choke him, slid his knife into one of the scabbards on her belt, then circled her other arm around his chest. She tried wrapping her legs around him high enough to avoid the sword at his side, but the position meant he wouldn’t be able to reach his weapon.

  In his ear, she said, “Now what?”

  He didn’t answer. He just climbed into the window frame, crouched so neither of them would bump their heads. Before she could guess at his intention, he leapt, his powerful thighs pushing them off the window ledge and out into the empty air.

  Chapter Five

  Nuala’s stomach dropped and it took all her will not to squeal in alarm. She clenched Einar tighter, reflexively, her face pressed into his shoulder as terror slammed through her. The jolt of landing nearly forced her hold to relax. His arm came up and braced her lower back, keeping her from falling.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  She looked around. They’d landed on the roof of a neighboring building, one story below the window they’d jumped from, but far enough away she wouldn’t have thought the leap possible. “How?”

  “Killing isn’t my only skill. You know that.”

  She unfolded her legs and slid to the ground, stepping away from him before she noticed the contact too much. “Now where?”

  He took her hand again and pulled her to the opposite side of the flat rooftop, ducking behind a tall brick chimney just before she heard voices from the window they’d leapt from.

  “Anything?”

  “No elves. Could they make that jump?”

  Silence. Then, “Doubt it. Too far even for an elf.”

  “The others should go into that building anyway.”

  “I’ll tell them.”

  “I’ll finish here.”

  Nuala waited in silence for at least ten heartbeats after the voices disappeared, then she raised her brows. Einar nodded. They faced the next neighboring building.

  “Me first,” he said. “You can make this?”

  “Yes.” She’d cliff-jumped as a youth, just like the other elves. This distance was at the farthest reach of her abilities but she’d done it before. She held her breath as he made the leap, landing easily and gracefully on the next roof. Then she backed up two steps and threw herself into the jump. When she landed beside him, she laughed, muffling the sound with her hand, but completely unable to contain her reaction to the thrill of making that distance.

  He frowned at her. She grinned and shrugged.

  “I haven’t done that in a while. I forgot how much fun it is.”

  His frown remained in place but his expression seemed to ease a little. Or at least she thought it did. With the only illumination coming from the two-thirds first moon, it was hard to tell.

  Without a word, he led her across the roof to yet another building. After studying the street below, he nodded and they jumped again. She stumbled a little on this landing, her muscles shivering from the adrenaline of their escape. The next building down the street was three stories higher than the one they were on, so they turned to the back of the roof and crossed a foot-wide gap to yet another building.

  “We’ll have to go back to the street,” Einar said, searching the surrounding buildings. Two were too high, the other was on the opposite side of the street and still too high for them to jump.

  Her stomach danced with fear now that the excitement of building jumping was over.

  This roof had an obvious door leading back inside, but Einar paused to study the streets below first. After several tense moments, he joined her at the door, leading her down the stairwell to the ground floor. Nuala barely noticed the building around them. She had a vague impression of square galleries and a multitude of doors, but her full focus was on trailing Einar down the dark stairs, afraid she’d miss her footing if she didn’t pay attention.

  At the front entrance, Einar paused again, studying the street through the windows beside the door. She had to force air in and out of her lungs. Finally, he eased open the door, which moved on surprisingly silent hinges, and they slipped into the street, sticking close to the building walls.

  Sounds from in front of them, the direction they wanted to go, forced them to back-peddle into the alley next to the building, opposite their planned escape route. Einar blocked her view, putting his large frame in front of hers as they pressed close to the alley wall and listened.

  The heavy fall of booted feet clicked across the cobbled streets. Listening carefully, she thought she heard two, maybe three different individuals. But since they didn’t speak, she couldn’t be sure. She and Einar waited for a long while, listening to those boot steps. The sounds faded in and out but there was always at least one person on the road at any given time, making it impossible for her and Einar to go that direction.

  She studied the opposite end of the alleyway in frustration. It was a dead end, and at any rate, led them back toward the original group of minions they’d just escaped.

&n
bsp; The feel of Einar’s breath at her ear made her jump.

  “More minions,” he said. “Heading away. When I move, don’t hesitate.”

  She squeezed his arm in understanding and turned her focus on his shoulder, braced to run when he did.

  As she waited, a sound carried to her across the wind and Einar’s back stiffened. She strained to catch more of the noise. Shouts. The clashing of metal. The sharp swack of a bowstring releasing. Her heartbeat accelerated.

  “A fight, only a street or two over,” she murmured. “Sinnale soldiers must have found one of the minion groups.”

  He nodded in agreement, though he never took his attention from the minions in the street ahead of them. He raised a hand, a silent warning to prepare, and then sprinted across the road. She followed, racing a step behind him. When they made the next alley, he paused and lifted his head, listening.

  She could hear it too, more joining the fight. A full-blown skirmish was underway.

  “The others are joining the fight,” Einar said. “More minions will make their way toward it.”

  “What do we do? Should we help? Or…”

  He shook his head before she could finish. “Sinnale will assume we’re traitor elves. Minions will try to kill or capture us. We need to avoid the fight, find another hiding spot.”

  “The minions will just continue searching. Where can we be safe?”

  As he considered their options, they watched another small group of minions race by, heading toward the growing conflict.

  “Opposite the fight and toward Sinnale territory,” Einar finally said. “As we originally planned. This skirmish is deep in Noman’s Land. The Sinnale soldiers are probably all over the area hunting the minions. Neither side will have time to look for two missing elves for hours, maybe not for the rest of the night if the Sinnale win these fights and drive the minions back to Sorcerer territory.”

  “We’ll have to avoid human patrols too,” she pointed out.

  “They aren’t looking for us. We can hide from them. We just need an empty building, no human squatters.”