Ronith

“Come on. I won’t hurt you. It’s food, see?”

Ronith held out a piece of fish cooked opaque over the fire in bits of apple from the Wizards’ orchard. The Imperial and Dwarf forces prowled the grounds day and night, but she had her ways of remaining unseen, at least enough to pilfer from the gardens.

The creature bared its sharp teeth at her but seemed slightly less menacing today. That was progress.

Ronith popped the fish into her mouth and made noises of gustatory bliss. She held out another. “Come on. You want some. You know you do.”

The creature sniffed the air and hopped toward her with a worried look.

“That’s it. Come on.”

Its leash was attached to an iron spike in the sand near the water, but Ronith had left plenty of purchase. She reached her arm out a little further, and it snatched the piece of fish out of her hand and shoved it into its mouth.

“Atta girl,” Ronith said. “Or boy. Or...” She honestly couldn’t tell what gender it was, or if it even had a gender. All Elves were female, but the creature was not exactly an Elf. The tattered garment it wore covered any evidence of genitalia, and it seemed disrespectful to ask for a glimpse. To Ronith, it seemed more male than female. She peeled another piece of cooked fish off the carcass in front of her. “Here’s another. Come on. Yes, it’s for you.”

The creature loped up to her and took it, this time more gently.

“Good,” she told it, making the matching Elf-sign.

It gobbled up the fish, then signed back good.

Ronith thrilled at that small sign of understanding. She hadn’t been sure if she was dealing with an animal until now. Perhaps the creature couldn’t talk, but if it could sign, that proved its intelligence.

“More?” She signed the word, then held out more fish.

The creature’s face was softer, more curious now. They were connecting!

“More?” She repeated the sign.

It signed back, more, then snatched the meat from her hand. Looking back over its shoulder as it ate, it signed good. Ronith practically whooped with joy.

It was intelligent. A person. And Yelora had wanted to kill it like a worthless beast. The fury rose inside Ronith, a trembling feeling like a volcano about to explode. Yelora despised both of them—Ronith, for the darkness inside her, and the creature for being a disappointment when Yelora and Fara had expected something perfect and pure. The Elemental had called the creature an abomination, but one fleck of darkness made the difference between Ronith and it, nothing more. Did that make Ronith an abomination, too?

“You need a name, Brother,” Ronith said, popping some fish into her own mouth. The word felt right... Brother. “How about Gorlo?”

Gorlo approached her even more slowly and took the proffered food from her hand even more gently. Its yellow eyes were bright, curious. It tugged at the leash around its neck and gave her a forlorn look.

Ronith frowned. If she unleashed it, it could run away, become lost or hurt. They lived in dangerous times. She could not let it loose, for its own safety.

The creature tugged again at the loop around its neck. Had Ronith tied it too tightly?

“Can I look?” she pointed to her own neck, then to the rope.

Gorlo watched her warily out of the corner of his eye. When she touched the rope, he twitched, but didn’t bite her this time.

“Good boy,” she said soothingly. She checked the rope. “It’s not too tight.”

He turned his wide, wet eyes to her. He signed the word no, then tugged at the rope.

Ronith froze. She hadn’t taught him that one. He’d picked it up on his own.

No, he signed again, yanking at the rope.

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It was the first time he’d initiated any kind of communication with her. “I can’t take the rope off,” she explained. “There are Imperials and Dwarves everywhere. They might catch you. Hurt you.” She signed the words as she said them. Imperials. Dwarves. Hurt.

Gorlo tugged on the rope and signed, hurt.

Ronith sighed. The skin did look inflamed where the rope rubbed against his neck. “If I take that off, you must stay near me at all times. Do you understand? Stay.” She signed the word.

Stay, Gorlo signed back.

Ronith blew out an even longer sigh as she set down the last of the fish and reached for the rope. It was a terrible idea, and she knew it, but Gorlo was a person, not a pet. If she wanted to have any kind of relationship with him, they needed to trust one another.

“I’m here to protect you, do you understand?” She signed protect with one hand as she loosened the knot with the other. “You’re safe with me.” She signed safe. “You need to stay with me.” Stay.

Stay, Gorlo signed. Safe.

Ronith slipped the loop over his neck and tossed it to the side. “Good.”

She smiled at Gorlo and he smiled back at her. Or he grimaced in a way that was almost like a smile. It was difficult to tell. Either way, Ronith liked it.

A crash in the bushes behind her made Ronith bounce to her feet, dagger at the ready. Had the Dwarves found them? The Imperials? Had her shade spell not held?

But it was just a rabbit. Ronith scanned her surroundings just to be safe. No sign of enemies.

“It’s all right, Gorlo. There’s nobody here.” But when she turned back, Gorlo was gone.

“Sprites alive!” she hissed, whirling on her toes. There was no sign of movement other than the bunny. She spotted Gorlo’s tracks on the sandy embankment, grabbed the leash, and launched in pursuit. He was heading in the direction of the Wizards’ Lair. The insolent imp was going to get captured by the Imperial and Dwarven forces camped there. “Gorlo!” she whispered. “Come back! You were supposed to stay with me, remember?”

He’d played her. Told her what she wanted to hear until she trusted him enough to release him. He’d never trusted her. And why should he? She’d kept him in a cage. Transported him from the lands of his birth to a foreign place to be hurt and almost killed. She’d been foolish to think she could win his trust so easily.

The moonlight gilded the grassy plains and sandy dunes. The celestial orb itself was slashed in half by the black silhouette of the Wizard Lair’s tallest spire. Gorlo’s tracks were quick and light, hard to follow. She picked up speed. Where did he think he was going?

Male voices sounded and Ronith froze. It was a scouting party. Two Imperial and two Dwarven soldiers stomped through the high grasses. Moonlight shone off their armor, crossbows, and battleaxes. Sprites, she had been so stupid to let Gorlo go! They walked right past her, her shade spell protecting her from sight. She opened her mouth, made her breaths shallow so they wouldn’t hear them.

“What was that?”

Ronith’s heart ticked up, but they weren’t looking in her direction. Grasses parted noisily as Gorlo ran through them. The scout party launched in pursuit.

Ronith followed in their wake, her boots light on the trampled grasses. It didn’t take the scout party long to overtake Gorlo. She stood back as they cornered him, weapons brandished as he snarled and cowered in a sandy clearing.

“What is that thing?”

“I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“It’s horrible. Shoot it.”

An Imperial raised his crossbow to his shoulder. The volcano inside Ronith surged. Before she could even think to utter a spell, she leapt at the soldier, her dagger sliding into the soft skin at his neck. The arrow went wild.

“Run, Gorlo!” she shouted, spinning the writhing soldier between her and the second Imperial’s ready crossbow. Ronith felt the dull thud off the arrow bouncing off his chest plate. But now one of the Dwarves was upon her, his axe raised.

“It’s an Elf, using a shade spell!”

Her noise and motion had rendered the spell useless. Never mind. Let them know she was here. Let them see her coming. The other Dwarf was gone, likely pursuing Gorlo. She had to hurry and end these three and get to Gorlo before the scout hurt him. The Imperial in her clutches slumped to the ground, finally dead from the wound in his neck. Ronith shoved him to the side and dove at the Dwarf with her dagger. He blocked her arm with the handle of his axe. Out of the corner of her eye, Ronith saw the Imperial raise his crossbow.

“Take her alive, for questioning!” the Dwarf gasped, holding off her encroaching arm, the dagger aimed at his eye.

Ronith felt strong arms seize her from behind, and she elbowed her attacker. The Dwarf took this opportunity to slam the blunt end of his axe into her gut. It hurt like the sprites and knocked the wind out of her. Still, Ronith managed to get a slash in. A thin red line bloomed across the Dwarf’s cheek. Meanwhile, the Imperial was still manhandling her from behind. With a grunt, she sunk her blade into his thigh, but his leather cuisse was too thick. Imperials relied heavily on their armor, weak as they were.

No matter. She would dispatch them with magic. It was an advantage she possessed that they didn’t, and she might as well use it.

Ronith formed the token with her hands and opened her mouth to summon the powers of nature—a swarm of bees, small tornado, a hungry colony of blood bats, whatever was close enough to hear her and heed her call. But as she tried to speak, the words caught in her throat. Ronith tried again, choking. Her panicked gaze found the Dwarf. He was pointing an odd square device at her, and Ronith felt the pulsing of the air from its barrel. She couldn’t speak. The more she tried to utter the words of the spell, the less she could breathe.

What kind of technology was this?

“There. She can’t utter spells with the disruptor on her. Go ahead and knock her out,” the Dwarf said, looking pleased with himself as Ronith continued to choke on her words.

Something struck the back of her head, and everything went dark.