by Shawn Keys
Leaving behind the Fist, Ajax crunched into the bushes. Scanning left and right, he followed his instincts. Opening the distance from the path, he shadowed them as they moved up into the hills, not about to lose track of them.
She was there. Between one breath and the next, she appeared in front of him.
Up this close, the forest was even more evocative. She smoldered with energy, boiling over with so many emotions that she should have exploded from the chaos within. Her eyes absorbed him like he was a walking elder god, ready for worship. But there was fear too. And the slightly ragged breathing that came from a hard run. No, a panicked run. “It’s you.”
“Aye, lass. If you know me, then you know me. I’m not often mistaken for another. Ajax is my name, though I don’t know y…” His words faded. “Though, I do, don’t I? Who are you, lass? And how do I know you?”
Her aura radiated affection for him. “You pried me from the darkness. You gave me back my life.” She held up a beaten, iron-forged key.
Memory surged back to him. “You! The forest elf from the dungeons under Lyvarress’s keep!”
She replied with a sharp nod. “Safaunya is my name, and you must listen! I’ve come to these strange shores stowed away upon the great wooden beast of Vhalevaris.”
The name scratched at fragile memories. Then the truth ignited in his mind like a beacon. “Admiral Vhalevaris of Lyvarress’s fleet?”
Relief spread over her face as he understood. “When I heard them putting to sea to hunt you, I stashed myself aboard until we came within sight of the coast.” She hissed, revealing a burning line where an arrow had marked her. “They fired at me as I dove into the water and swam for shore. But they didn’t stop to chase a stowaway. They were intent on off-loading their hunters to the shore. They entered the forest a half-day’s ride to the west of the port-city.”
Ajax’s blood froze. “Off-loaded? How many?”
She shrugged. “I had no chance to count. The whole time I was starving in the hold and dared not come out except to steal a few scraps where I could.” She raked her mind for a guess. “A hundred hunters, with more waiting by the shore and even more on the ship.”
Ajax gnashed his teeth. Damn that elfish swine of a king! Even as he cursed, he knew it could be worse. Far worse. The war galleon could hold a crew of five hundred and more, not to mention the room to hold two hundred soldiers is needed. Why so few?
The answer came to him easily enough. Cymarramathis. These are his lands. He would not allow an invasion. But he may allow Lyvarress to land some in the spirit of cooperation.
Fearing he already knew the answer, Ajax demanded, “When did you leave Cymarramathis’s shores? How long did it take you to cross?”
“Less than a score of days. I’m sorry. At times I didn’t see the sun for a cycle.”
“You’ve nothing to forgive, lass. You may have saved our lives. You’ve crossed half the world to do it, and there aren’t proper words to thank you.” He felt it in his gut. They had left the far shore a fortnight ago, probably on the same night he had walked into Cymarramathis’s court. “Did you see them use the magic of the wind?”
She was sure of that. “A gale was always blowing, driving us across the ocean faster than I have ever seen a ship sail. I heard the crew talking; a dozen wind mages were driven to exhaustion. Two almost to death.”
Not a trace of pity rose in his heart. “Who leads them? Did you hear a name?”
“A gendarme. Tall and powerful… well, tall for an elf. The admiral stayed at sea. The warrior came ashore.”
“Dassereen?”
Her smile fluttered briefly. “Yes!”
Ajax’s jaw clenched. He glared back toward the path and the procession even now drawing away from him. “May the Fury take them all as traitors.” His mind scrambled over what could be done. A hundred elfish hunters were out there with Dassereen at their head. His lovers and friends were trapped among the Fist of Cymarramathis, with a deadly gendarme of its own at its head. Not to mention the Prince, probably capable in his own deadly way. And the only thing that made sense is that they were not enemies; rather, they were cooperating.
He turned back to the beautiful forest elf. “This is much to ask. But can you fire a bow?”
“I didn’t come all this way to see you die, Ajax. The rumors back home said you used to be a knight. If so, then you know forest elves are born with bows in our hands. But I barely have this crude shirt on my back.”
Ajax had a plan. “Give me a few minutes. Linger behind us. I’ll see a bow and quiver dropped in the woods. Find it and be ready. You’ve saved us once, Safaunya. You’re already my goddess. Stay, and help me save my friends. Then I’ll owe you everything.” Perhaps too bold, but he crushed his arms around the frail elf. “There’ll be food and water with the weapons. Keep your strength. We’ll need it.”
She peered up at him. “I’ll be your spirit watching over you, Ajax. Don’t doubt my aim will be true.” She darted forward and crushed her lips to his.
The flash of passion was unexpected, but Ajax didn’t resist. He melted into her, his arms far more tender than before. Blended in a searing moment, their kiss lingered long past innocence.
Then, Safaunya shoved him gently away. “Go. Do as you must.” Her already deep skin darkened with an embarrassed flush.
But the desire in Ajax’s eyes soothed away her shame. “We will meet again, though the fury stands in the way.” If he stayed longer, he might not leave. And right then, they couldn’t spare the time. He charged through the underbrush, not slowing until he was close enough to hear the horses neighing softly in the late afternoon shade. Falling back into a plodding step, Ajax tried to slow his breathing. Stepping from the woods, he passed a grave nod to the knights nearby.
They raked him over, deciding if anything about him was worth concern. Then, they ignored him over and their normal conversations returned.
Exhaling carefully, he wandered to the pack horse that was stomping behind the last knight on a short lead. With careful hands, he eased an unstrung bow and a small pack of arrows from the lashings. He made a show of testing it, weighing it for its worth.
One of the mud-knights snorted at him. “A bit small for you, don’t you think?”
“Not sure.” He tested the bow a little, flexing it in a way that risked damaging it. With a hidden step, he put his weight on a hidden branch. A crack filled the air. “Oh, damn.”
The knight rolled his eyes. “The delicate hands of a bear! Fah! It’s ruined for sure.”
Ajax shrugged. “Not like we’re expecting battle. Doubt we’ll be needing the spares.” He tossed the ‘broken’ bow nonchalantly into the woods.
“A waste is a waste.” The mud-knight walked off in disgust.
As he turned, Ajax kicked the quiver away as well. No one was paying attention to him any longer. He didn’t risk food and water immediately. That would be easy enough in the coming few minutes. The weapons had been the hard part.
His deception complete, Ajax drifted toward his lovers. He dropped his voice. It was a risky move; elves could hear even whispers from a distance. But the horses were masking him, and he spoke so lowly that it was barely audible. “We’ve been betrayed.”
He had their instant attention. Fierce yet curious glances were traded all around.
He appreciated how they asked no questions. They gave only trust. Maybe they were waiting for this betrayal as much as he had been. He gave them the details he could. “Lyvarress’s pet gendarme crossed the ocean on the backs of wind worker magic. They’ve come ashore with a hundred hunters or more, though I don’t know if they be elf or man or other.”
“Did you see them?” Jyliansa dared to whisper.
Ajax shook his head. “I was warned. I’ll explain later, but a forest elf told me. If you see one flitting about, don’t kill her. She’s on our side. The timing allows for only one real possibility. They knew exactly where to come. They’ve been summoned by this snake of a King, Cymarra
mathis. Whatever deal they’ve struck, it will not include leaving us alive.”
Resolve formed on their faces, along with bleak realization about how unlikely it was they could survive the danger surrounding them.
Helleanna whispered, “What can we do?”
“Only one chance. We need to reach the minotaurs alive. They were created to stop conflict at the foot of the gate. We need to wait for our chance, then do what we can to set the two forces upon each other. When push comes to shove, they’ll both want Quala to themselves. I can feel it. And I intend to use their greed against them.”
Krizzilani smirked. “You should have been one of my kind.”
Ajax snorted. “If there is darkness in my veins, it was placed there by dealing with the venom of these serpents in the grass. Can you vanish? I would feel far better with you lurking in the dark beyond this ring of steel. Find Safaunya and talk. Be ready for what will come.”
The dark elf gave him a sly nod, then looked around for a moment. Selecting her target, she bounced over to a nearby moon elf squire loping along with easy strides. Krizzilani fell into step next to him. Ajax recognized him as well; he was a common face on the upper tiers of the Cymarramathis’s castle, one of the King’s most trusted moon elfish warriors. Undoubtedly, he has seen the dark elf in her wickedly see-through gown over the last few days.
Krizzilani matched his steps until he realized what she was doing. Then, she caught his eyes and flashed him a sensual smile accented by a light wink.
Irresistible, despite what she was. The moon elf’s face lost all of its gravity, and he smiled.
Krizzilani’s lips twisted from smile to snarl in the span of a finger-snap. Subtlety evaporated, and she spat into his face. Her ugly dagger crafted of black steel jutted up under his chin. If he tried to speak, he would spear himself on the tip. “How dare you say such things to me! Touch me with those fingers and I will sever them off and feed them to you!” Her boot snapped forward and ploughed into his balls, aiming for his throat.
Her dagger whipped away, and she left him to collapse amidst the gales of laughter from the other moon elfish warriors. Jeers rose, and they started to kick the collapsed squire as they walked past, telling him he deserved what he got for messing with the night’s flesh.
Stalking away in believable anger, Krizzilani stormed off into the woods.
She didn’t come back.
Jyliansa whistled. “I think she’s been wanting to do that for a while.”
Helleanna was glaring daggers at the Prince’s back. “Too bad it wasn’t a sun elf.”
Ajax laid a comforting hand on her shoulder. “His time’s coming. Hold it together, and if anything happens, get to Callistia. She’s the only one of us who doesn’t know what these two-faced bastards have done. Keep her safe, whatever else you do.”
Chapter 16
Ajax found it harder to contain his rage with every step they took. Like Helleanna, his eyes burned into the back of the Prince until he was astonished the elf hadn’t burst into real flames. But he needed the time. Somewhere out there, Dassereen was creeping closer. Somewhere ahead, the minotaurs and their secrets were drawing closer as well.
Suddenly, the last two weeks began to make more and more sense. He wondered if the minotaurs truly did only emerge once in the month. Was that merely good fortune for the King, or another lie Ajax had no way to confirm? Truth or lie, it had given the King and his court and his servants two weeks to pry Quala’s secrets from them. The Prince’s luring of Callistia. The efforts of the court to extend friendship whenever possible. The servants lingering in earshot. The stablehands tailing them on horseback.
Ajax had told the King that force wouldn’t work. And the King had believed him. He had watched as patiently as a spider, hoping for them to betray themselves. Had they been listening at every moment with their magic? That was almost worse than torture.
And worst of all, he knew it would be a spike right into Callistia’s heart.
For the pain they were going to cause her, he hated them most of all.
He had no idea what they were planning. He scoured the woods under hooded eyes, wondering when the two groups would spring their ambush. But he was playing one last gamble: There has to be another game to be played. Otherwise, they would never have brought us into the mountains. If they thought they had failed to get the secret, they could have killed us back in the castle. They have one more trick…they think they have one more chance to pry out the secrets of Quala before they take the artifact by force. He knew it was true, but he couldn’t guess what they had planned.
The path curved out of the forest, and for a moment his suspicions waylaid in the face of sheer awe.
They emerged into an open clearing at the base of a semi-circular shaped cliff. The concave area was large enough to fit two hundred horses comfortably inside. The forest was unable to grow into the space as the mountain rock formed an impenetrable floor within the clearing. It was like a massive cave with the roof blasted away to let the sky in.
Standing in the deepest part of the enclave, two massive doors were set imposingly into the cliff face. Fifty feet high if they were an inch, they reached almost to the top of the cliffs above. Made of burnished steel, every inch of them was covered with the eldritch runes that were hallmarks of elfish magic. They loomed over the group with majesty, heavy with history, a powerful reminder that not even warring elfish lords would be able to pierce this protection around the gates.
Ajax wanted to be fully enraptured by what it all meant. He wanted to feel the wonder of standing at the entrance to the gateways to a whole other world. But Safaunya’s revelations made that impossible. This is your legacy, Cymarramathis, and you aren’t worthy of it. He tore his eyes away from the beautifully crafted gates, not wanting to see the glorious work. At that moment, he wanted nothing in his heart but hatred.
The trio of sun elves had drawn up in front of the gate, paying homage to their ancestors. Callistia leaned in and whispered to the Prince. Riluranath responded with a peaceful nod. She must have reminded him of the reason why they were there, for the Prince turned and looked for Ajax and his friends.
Ajax had to admit he acted the role well. He didn’t give away anything. Is it possible the King didn’t tell him? No. Perhaps the moon elves and mud-knights are unaware of the deeper games being played, but Riluranath has to know. He’s the King’s son, and more, the King’s hand.
The Prince was waving Ajax forward, striking the perfect balance between pleasant invitation yet also the commanding expectation that a mere human would certainly listen to him.
Ajax shared a grave nod with his two lovers, then walked forward with Jyliansa and Helleanna framing him to either side. He positioned himself beside the sun elves on their horses, ensuring nothing stood between him and the ancient doors but open air.
The Prince was about to speak when his eyes narrowed in confusion. “What of the dark elf?”
Ajax almost snorted in his face. Even when it mattered this much, the arrogant sun elf barely bothered to notice them or what happened to them.
Fortunately, he didn’t need to answer. Any excuse he gave might be suspicious. But the dark elf’s earlier game paid off. One of the moon elf squires laughed and said, “Urilerilann tried to paw her. He’ll recover, but she’s still somewhere cooling off.”
The Prince frowned, his displeasure killing the moon elf’s humor. “We have arrived. Can you summon her?”
Ajax shrugged. “I am not her master. But she knows the importance of this, My Lord. Bring forth the minotaurs, if it please you. When the time has come to pass through, she’ll be here.” The Prince was not the only one that could stare the other down without flinching. He didn’t give away so much as a hint of his true intentions: that the dark elf wouldn’t appear until after the Prince played his hand. Frustratingly, Ajax couldn’t even see the jaws of the trap closing yet. Am I wrong?
Deciding not to argue, the Prince turned back to the doors. When he spoke,
his words were meant for only Callistia and Nahallanal, “Speak as one with me. As I taught you, let your purpose and power fill you.”
Together, the trio raised their voices into three synchronized calls that echoed about in the small canyon. Their harmony was chilling in its perfection, their tones as well matched as any choir with the two tenors complementing Callistia’s soaring soprano. Ajax spoke elfish, but he could not understand the dialect they used.
As they sung, the runes on the doors swelled to life with inner light. With the sun almost gone from the sky, the dozen torches lit by the Fist’s warriors was what they had for light. Soon, the light of the runes began to overpower them all. The longer the trio sang, the further up the door the light crept until the whole length was afire.
Unsure what to expect, Ajax was mildly surprised that the doors didn’t open. Instead, they turned into silvery ghosts. Only the fiery runes remained substantial.
From within the outline of those ghost doors, three mist-shrouded beings appeared. Each taller than Ajax, they were hulking beings covered in shaggy fur. Towering horns speared upward, more akin to crowns than anything. Their solid bodies had more in common with the mountain than flesh-and-blood beings. Each wore nothing but a loincloth to cover their modesty, but those coverings weren’t rags. They were clean, precisely folded, and made of smooth white linen. They walked with spears whose tips protruded higher than their own horns. Holding the weapons in hands large enough to crush a boulder, they used the spears as if they were walking staffs. Ajax had the distinct impression all three could turn them to violence quickly enough. If these were three members of a clan meant to hold warring elves at bay, then there must be far more to them. Ajax reminded himself not to underestimate them.
