Servant of the Serpent (Serpent's War Book 1)

by Jason Halstead

  Gildor looked at the tube and frowned. “What’s that?”

  “That’s what started this for me,” the elf said. “I was headed to Fylandria to see if I could make a name for myself. I—”

  Gildor snorted. “For being as old as you say you are, I’d think you'd know better than to do a fool thing like that.”

  Corian shrugged. “My sister has been shunned by my people since before we came to seek your father’s aid so long ago. I hoped to do something to offset that shame. Become a royal guard or undertake a quest of importance.”

  Gildor tossed aside the elf’s foolish plans and focused on the heart of his problem. “What’d she do?”

  Corian pressed his lips together and stared into the fire. He remained silent as the flames crackled. Gildor turned away to a dented pot he’d gotten from his saddlebag and added lake water to. He set it on the fire to heat and boil, and fetched some hardtack from another saddlebag to add to the water.

  “She fell in love with a human,” Corian mumbled at last. “Planned to run away with him, too.”

  “I remember her being pregnant,” Gildor said. “I was young, but I thought she was pretty. Strange, but pretty.”

  Corian stared at him and smiled. “You’re kind to say such things.”

  “I was a kid. I didn’t know any better.”

  Corian tilted his head until he saw the twinkle in Gildor’s eye. “I thought your daughter was a river nymph when I first saw her. I thought I’d drowned or been beaten senseless against the rocks of the river. She appeared as if I dreamt about her. Next I knew, she and your father were dragging me across the countryside.”

  “She’s no nymph, but she’s been special enough to make my life mean something,” Gildor admitted. He paused and nodded at the case in Corian’s hands. “So what’s that? Message? Map? Something else?”

  Corian stared down at it and frowned. “I don’t know. I found it on a messenger who had been killed by splisskin. I killed them and was going to deliver it. It was bound for Glennduril, my home. But the town had been burned. Not as bad as yours, but many buildings were set on fire and my sister was taken. I followed them until I lost them at the Sarana River.”

  “But you kept the message?”

  “I thought it must be important, if she was killed for it.”

  “She?”

  “The messenger,” Corian explained.

  Gildor added the hardtack to the bubbling water on the fire and used a dagger to stir it around. “Going to read it?”

  Corian frowned. “It’s not meant for me.”

  “Are you sure? Awful lot of coincidences lately.”

  Corian’s lips opened and shut a few times. He grunted and looked up at the human. “You think I should?”

  “At worst, I don’t see it causing any harm.”

  Corian nodded and reached down to take hold of the cap in one hand and the tube in his other. He twisted it, breaking the seal and causing pieces of it to flake away. He pulled the cap off and upended the case. A small scroll of parchment slid out into his lap.

  Gildor watched while absent-mindedly stirring the trail soup. He didn’t have any salted pork to add to it or he would have. If he had the time, he could have dug up some crabs or caught a few fish to bolster the meal, but time was something he felt slipping away from him.

  Corian glanced at Gildor a final time before he unrolled the scroll and looked at it. The elvish script flowed across the page, showing that it was addressed to Prince Thesperus. He winced; reading a missive meant for the prince was certain to be an offense that would earn him a noose around his neck. But, since it was already open and he’d read that much, he read on.

  “What’s it say?” Gildor asked.

  Corian licked his lips. “It’s meant for Prince Thesperus. It says—oh saints!”

  Gildor leaned forward and narrowed his eyes. “What? What is it?”

  “Our spies have heard rumors of a search for those of impure blood. Trusted elven sages have confirmed that there is a prophecy that speaks of a half-blood being the undoing of dark forces that would seek to bring havoc among our people.”

  “Whose undoing?” Gildor asked.

  Corian lowered the scroll to look at him. He shook his head and then read the rest. “Guard close any you suspect to have relation with any half-breeds until we know more. Jillystria Floatingleaf is one known relation to a half-elf.”

  “Your sister,” Gildor said. “And the woman my father helped so long ago.”

  Corian nodded.

  “And you led them to us,” Gildor added.

  “No!” Corian breathed. He shook his head and went on. “That couldn’t be the same group of splisskin. There were too many. Four boats full? I only had a half dozen, maybe eight, left when I was forced into the river.”

  “You think they were looking for my grandfather then? Because he helped? How would they know?”

  Corian shook his head. “Magic? I don’t know, other than that. It’s not spoken of among elves. Bearing a child with a human is a thing of shame among my kind.”

  Gildor raised his eyebrow but kept his thoughts to himself. His experience with elves was limited. He’d spent more time with Corian than any other, and he had more important things to worry about than getting to know the man.

  He wrapped the handle of the pot in cloth and moved it from the fire to the sand to cool. Corian read the message again, mumbling the elvish words to himself the second and third time. Gildor let him, unperturbed by the strange language.

  “Who do you think these dark forces are?” Corian asked.

  “Splisskin,” Gildor answered after sipping the soup off his spoon. “At least, they’re the ones causing us all this hassle.”

  “They’ve never bothered us before,” Corian said. “At least never like this. Some fighting over land at our borders, but always limited and never with the splisskin having more than a single tribe to fight with. They never come together like this.”

  “Maybe they’re tired of being pushed around. Maybe they want to unite and have a nation of their own?” Gildor reasoned.

  “You sound as though you understand them.”

  The pathfinder shook his head. “I can appreciate wanting something like that, but I don’t care. That don’t give them the right to butcher my people or yours, and it don’t mean they can steal our families. Understanding isn’t the same as accepting or forgiving. I’ll get her back or kill every last one of them.”

  Corian nodded. “I’ll help you.”

  Gildor finished eating half the soup and passed the pot to the elf. “Eat up. We’ve got to get to Easton and get a boat.”

  Corian tried the soup and grimaced. “Do they sell long bows there?”

  Gildor nodded. “Just about anything.”

  “I’ll settle for a bow and arrows,” he said. “Then I can be of real help.”

  Gildor rose to his feet and began to take care of things from the camp. Corian forced the bland soup down and walked to the lake to rinse out the pot. He returned to the fire and kicked the coarse sand on top of it, banking the flames and leaving it simmering. He dumped the water in the pot on top of the mound, earning a muffled hissing and small puffs of steam and smoke that rose through the sand.

  “Hand me the pot,” Gildor said and reached out with his arm.

  Corian handed it over and turned to where Brownie was munching on some of the tall grasses at the edge of the beach. He checked to make sure he had his daggers and grabbed up his scroll and tube.

  “I’m ready.”

  Gildor looked to the west. The swamp was a couple of miles away, close enough he could see the silver flashes as the sun’s late morning rays shone down on it. He turned away, barely glancing to the south. The island with Shathas on it was too far to see even had the perpetual mists not floated above the unusually warm waters of the lake.

  “Then let’s go. We’ll be there by mid-afternoon. With any luck, we can find a boat and some gear by sunset.”

 
“You want to leave yet tonight?”

  “Every minute we wait is a minute she suffers.”

  Corian nodded and added, “They suffer. My sister is there, too; I’m sure of it.”

  “Then we’ll tear the place down one stone at a time until we get them back.”

  Corian met his gaze with a light in his eyes that Gildor hadn’t seen before. He returned a nod from the elf and felt certain that, even if the odds were impossible, he’d found someone who would fight to his last breath beside him.

  Chapter 18

  Allie jerked out of her half sleep as the door opened. Torchlight streamed in, forcing her to blink from the sudden brightness. The light was shielded as a body was thrust through the door. The woman hit the floor with a grunt and lay still until the door slammed shut behind her.

  Allie watched, blinking to help her eyes readjust to the darkness. With her vision impaired, her other senses magnified, helping to compensate. She heard the elf’s ragged breathing and soon picked out a catch every time she inhaled. Allie bit her lip and moved, rolling away from the corner she’d claimed as her own and crawling on her hands and knees the few feet to where Jillystria lay.

  “Did they hurt you?” Allie whispered.

  The elf picked her face up and looked at her. Even in the darkness, Allie could make out the tears on her cheeks. “Yes,” she admitted. “But I’m fine.”

  “Fine?” Allie asked. “I’m a girl, too. I know fine means everything but fine.”

  Jilly started to smile until it stretched her lips and reopened a split in the bottom one. “I meant I’m okay.”

  “You’re bleeding and you can’t take a full breath. Don’t try to protect me.”

  “I thought you hated me?”

  Allie took in a breath and let it out in a sigh. “I’m sorry. That was dumb. Me being dumb, I mean. It was so long ago—it’s not your fault.”

  Jillystria offered a shadow of a smile and nodded. “I am fine,” she said, re-answering Allie’s earlier question. “There’s nothing they can do to me that can hurt me more than I’ve hurt myself.”

  Allie nodded. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be,” Jilly said. “This is my pain to hold, not yours.”

  Allie looked up at the door. She bit her lip to try to stop her chin from trembling and admitted, “I’m scared.”

  The elf tried to move and ended up letting out a hiss of pain. “Help me up,” she said.

  Allie scrambled to slip her arms under the elf’s and lift her up to a sitting position. From there, they managed to get her to her feet, but Allie had to support her on her way to the back wall. Allie lowered her to the ground and started to turn away when she found Jillystria holding her hand.

  “Sit with me,” she said.

  Allie lowered herself to the floor and let Jillystria pull her over until she was leaning against her. The elf wrapped her arms around her and forced her cuddle against her. “What are you doing?” Allie asked.

  “I can’t stop them,” Jillystria said. “Some time, maybe today or maybe not until another day, they will come for you. I don’t know what they’ll ask or what they’ll do to you.”

  “You’re not helping,” Allie shared.

  She could feel the elf’s lips press against her head. It had to hurt her, what with the tears and swelling, but the older woman didn’t complain. “You never had a mother and you needed one. I had a daughter, but never had her.”

  “I’m not your daughter,” Allie said.

  “I know,” Jillystria said. Allie felt wetness on her head and knew the elf was crying. “But they can’t take this from us. They can beat me but they can’t break what’s already broken. Let me comfort you.”

  Allie started to turn her head and then decided against it. Jillystria was frail but warm. She had an inner strength Allie could feel. She liked being held; it made her feel like someone cared. She knew her dad did, but he wasn’t there. She didn’t even know where there was. Her dad could be outside of a thousand miles away.

  “Thank you,” Jillystria said.

  Allie smiled and put her hand on the elf’s arm and gave it a gentle squeeze.

  Several moments passed in the dark with nothing but the sound of their breathing. The elf broke the silence without warning. “I think you should tell them everything you can. Anything that will stop them from hurting you.”

  Allie frowned. “Is that what you do?”

  “No,” Jillystria said. “I tell them nothing. I won’t tell them anything.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s all I have left. Denying them a tiny bit of knowledge.”

  “But you want me to tell them? You told me your secrets.”

  “I know. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have.”

  “No! I mean, yes, you should. I won’t break your trust, I promise.”

  She felt Jillystria shake her head. “You can’t let them hurt you. Not like they can. They can do cruel things like nothing you can imagine.”

  “I grew up on a farm and my dad has taught me more than how to protect myself; he’s told me why I need to and what some men might try to do. Trust me, Jilly, I can imagine a lot.”

  “I believe you, but they have healers and wizards too.”

  “So?”

  “I’ve been hurt much worse than this,” Jilly said. “I would have died a few times, but their filthy magic brought me back from my release. It feels horrible, Allie. Like oil and snakes slithering under your skin and through your body.”

  Allie shivered at the thought. Jillystria’s arms tightened around her and Allie found herself burrowing into the protective elf’s embrace. “I won’t tell.”

  “Allie, it’s been forty years. She’s gone. Maybe even dead. You can’t hurt her, only yourself.”

  “What about you?”

  “Me?” Jillystria asked and then gasped. “Of course! Those—those bastards!”

  Allie pulled away enough to twist and look at the elf’s openmouthed expression of rage and anguish. “What?”

  “They’d use you against me,” she whispered. “They put us together, hoping we might grow close. Then they’ll use us against the other.”

  “How?” Allie asked. “I won’t hurt you.”

  “No, they will. They’ll hurt you until I tell them everything.”

  “No!” Allie gasped. “Don’t do it. Let them. I can take it. I’m strong. Stronger than anyone knows!”

  Jillystria shook her head. “It’s not worth it. Whoever she is—wherever she is, they can’t find her with what I know. They can’t hurt her; they can only hurt us. Slowing them down will only hurt us.”

  Allie frowned. She snuggled back into the elf’s embrace. “It’s not fair.”

  “No,” Jillystria agreed. “Life seldom treats us fairly.”

  They lapsed into a comfortable silence and shared their warmth with each other. Allie began to doze again when the door to their cell opened. A single figure stood, outlined by the flickering light in the hallway sconces. The man spoke without the hiss of a splisskin. “Your turn, little girl.”

  Allie heard her gasp echoed by Jillystria.

  “Keep your filthy hands off her,” the elf growled.

  He laughed. “We only want to ask a few questions. Or would you rather start early? I can come in there.”

  Allie whimpered and felt the elf’s arms hold her tightly. “Don’t go!” Jillystria hissed.

  Allie squeezed her eyes shut and forced a shuddering breath past the lump in her throat. She heard a boot scuff against stone and blinked her eyes open. The man was coming for her. Jilly moved her hands to get a better grip on her. Allie blinked fresh tears away and held tight to the elf’s arm.

  The man growled and reached down for her. She moved, shifting out of his reach. “Damn it!” he snarled and reached again. His fingers wrapped in her hair and earned a yelp of pain from her lips. Her yelp was followed by his as Jillystria’s teeth found his wrist.

  Allie went flying and heard a feminine grunt from
behind her. She twisted and saw Jillystria on the floor and cradling the side of her face where she’d been hit. The human man drew his foot back to kick her but Allie shouted and reached for him.

  He lowered his foot and looked at her, the feral grin on his face made all the more wicked by the flickering light from the hallway. “We’ve had enough of her; maybe I’ll just kill her now so we stop wasting our time.”

  “No!” Allie whimpered. “I’ll go. Just—please! Don’t hurt her.”

  “Get your arse up. Now!”

  Allie scrambled to her feet. She turned when he gestured at the door and started towards it. Jillystria sobbed her name, causing her to turn and glance over her shoulder. The elf’s hand was stretched out for her.

  Two splisskin waited out in the hallway and walked ahead of her. The cell door was pulled shut and locked before she heard the man’s footsteps behind her. She was led down the hall to some stairs but not up them. Instead, they turned in to a door and through a small room with a table and some chairs. Crates lined one wall and another held some pegs on a wall. The opposite wall held another heavy wooden door they took her through.

  Allie gasped when she saw the chains and manacles hanging from walls and tables, and devices she couldn’t begin to guess the purpose of. Sheets of metal with spikes emerging from them looked designed to crush the life from a person. Old stains on the floor gave proof that people had been tortured and killed here. She wondered if any of the blood was Jilly’s.

  “I don’t know anything,” Allie whimpered.

  The man turned to one of the two splisskin and said, “Fetch a healer.”

  The snake man nodded and slipped out through the door. The human shut the door behind him and turned to her. “I didn’t ask you what you knew.”

  “Then what—”

  He drew a dagger with a serpentine blade from his belt. He grabbed her chin in his hand and squeezed hard, preventing her from moving. “This is for trying to escape,” he said and dragged his knife along her cheek.