Ronith

Ronith woke to the harsh flicker of fire. She was upright, but her arms and legs were splayed, her back pressed up against a stiff wooden board, horseshoes pinning her wrists and ankles in place. A thick chain crisscrossing her body pinned the bulk of her weight in place. All around her were monstrous, grinning faces, made even more sinister by the torchlight. Behind them were red and white painted circles propped against a wall made of towering stalks of reedwood lashed together. This was a training ground. And they’d fastened her to a target.

Ronith struggled, but as long as her hands were pinned, she could not make the token for a spell. The dark box with a barrel like a cannon was pointed at her as well. The disruptor. That’s what he’d called it.

“Ah, yer finally awake,” the Dwarf said. He’d taken off his armor and let his long black locks fall free.

She pressed her lips together.

“Ye can speak normally, ye just can’t speak magic.”

Her wrists hurt where they held her weight. She wrenched her neck around, but there was no sign of Gorlo. Hopefully he’d gotten away.

“Looking for your little pet?” a female Imperial soldier chided, her hair greasy, her face darkened with soot to hide her in the night. “We cooked him up for supper!”

The crowd of soldiers laughed at her, men and women, Imperial and Dwarf. Some of the soldiers were gnawing on roasted meat, and Ronith’s stomach lurched before she realized the bones were far too small to be Gorlo’s. Others were sharpening their blades or lubricating their crossbows. It felt like a celebration inside the training ground walls. The moon overhead was a cold, uncaring eye.

“I’m not your enemy,” she said.

“Glad to hear that.” The Dwarf showed a mouthful of teeth. “Then you’ll help us find the crash site where your queen is hoarding this new magic.”

Ronith winced against the pinch of the horseshoes on her wrists. “I do not know. I’ve been here since the crash.”

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The Dwarf exchanged a knowing look with the female Imperial. “Maybe this’ll change your mind,” the Imperial said. She snatched a sword from a comrade who was sharpening it and lobbed it at Ronith. Ronith winced as it lodged in the wood beside her cheek.

Ronith sucked in a breath through her teeth and spat. “I don’t know where the crash site is, but I can take a guess. Why don’t you check the spot where there’s a line of burnt up trees and a huge, smoking meteorite?”

Some of the soldiers chuckled, but the female Imperial scowled. The Dwarf hefted his battleaxe with both hands and sent it flying toward Ronith. This time she felt a thud just beside her thigh. She cringed, waiting for the pain, but it didn’t come. It had missed. Just.

“We’re not idiots! We know the general area, but by now your queen will have created a stronghold and secured it with magic. We can’t find it! Our troops keep marching in circles.”

For a second Ronith felt a stab of pride, but it quickly faded. Yelora would not have felt pride toward her. “Of course she would hide it from you. What do you expect?”

“How many Elves are in there?” The Dwarf changed tactics.

“I told you, I’ve been here the whole time.”

“Have ye allied with the Wizards?”

“I don’t know that either.”

The Imperial soldier stalked toward Ronith, her face so close Ronith could smell the meat on her breath. “What do you plan to do with this new magic?”

Ronith’s nostrils flared. She pressed her lips together. She knew the answer to that question. Yelora would be searching for a cure for the Elves’ infertility. She’d be doing everything possible to make sure Creation Falls produced no more Gorlos. No more Roniths either. Only pure, fresh, perfect Elves.

But she couldn’t tell them that. She might be despised by the Elven Queen, but they were still her people. Ronith would not share their weakness with the enemy.

“We have our own problems,” she said, the closest to the truth she was willing to come. “They have nothing to do with you. This war is pointless!”

“Mis-speaker!” The Imperial grasped a handle on the target and shoved downward, sending Ronith’s world spinning. As the sky and ground changed places over and over again, Ronith heard the thunks of knives embedding themselves in the wood as soldiers aimed for the spinning target. A sharp pain ripped through her groin, and she cried out.

“I reckon I know what’ll make ye talk,” the Dwarf gloated as Ronith sucked spit through her teeth. The pain was great and she could not utter a spell to alleviate it. “Bring it out!” the Dwarf cried.

From the shadows, another red and white target was rolled out. Something was nailed to it —something squat and dark and squirming.

Gorlo.