Yelora

“You two can go,” Ronith snarled, “but Gorlo stays here.”

Yelora squared her shoulders. “How dare you speak to me so, traitor?”

Gorlo whined, tugging at his leash trying to get to Ronith. Yelora yanked him back.

“I’m no traitor.” The Dark Elf’s amber eyes were pinned on the creature, and her jaw moved. “They tortured the information out of me.”

“Then you’re weak!” Yelora spat.

“Hey,” Kashur murmured, looking even sicker as he stood up with the portal compact in his hand. “Can we argue about this later. We’re on the same team now, remember?”

The flame of Yelora’s fury surged. Was he going to disrespect her, too? “Stay out of this, Summoner!”

“Why don’t we all go together? All four of us?” he suggested.

“She’s a traitor!” Yelora cried. “Who knows what she’ll do once she’s inside?”

“Yelora, I really need a healer.”

She felt his weight slump against her. He was definitely doing poorly. They didn’t have time for Ronith’s games.

“Turn that thing off,” she seethed through clenched teeth. “That’s an order. From your queen.”

Ronith curtsied. “Let Gorlo go, and I will do so with pleasure. My queen.”

If only she had Ronith’s skinny, traitorous neck in her hands, she would shake that smug look off the girl’s face! Grabbing the dagger she’d sheathed in her hip pouch, she pulled Gorlo in front of her, pressing the blade to his neck. “Turn it off,” she repeated.

Ronith’s lip jumped. “You won’t hurt him. You need him for something.”

“That’s right, I do,” Yelora agreed. “I need him to save our people. But I don’t need him with both eyes.” She moved the dagger. Gorlo flinched, but froze, whimpering, when he felt the blade against his eye socket.

“You’re a monster!” Ronith cried.

“You’re the monster!” Yelora shot back. “Turning against your own.” She considered abandoning Kashur and the creature and taking Ronith on in a hand-to-hand fight, but she wasn’t certain Kashur was strong enough to keep control of Gorlo. “Turn off that infernal machine now and I’ll speak on your behalf in the hopes that the Elven Faire won’t hang you for treason.”

“That won’t be a problem when the new queen learns how sick you’d become. How obsessed with your own desires that you abandoned the war effort to run around Terris with a Wizard and then died in a raid on their hideout.” Ronith’s mouth turned downward. “How sad.”

Yelora ground her teeth in rage. “You threaten me, Dark Elf? A foolish move. Until this point you could have argued for yourself. Now you’ll never be forgiven.”

“I never had a chance of forgiveness from you, Yelora! Not since the day I was born! But that’s over now.” Ronith lifted her staff and aimed it, the red gem glowing at its tip. “I’ll turn the machine off, but only long enough to cast my own spell.”

Yelora scooped Gorlo into her arms. He thrashed and mewled, but she pinned his arms and squeezed tight. “Go ahead, Dark Elf. Kill us both. Then you won’t have anyone... to love or to despise.”

A rattle sounded from behind Ronith. A Dwarven head popped up from the hatch leading belowdecks.

Yelora grinned. “You’re out of time.”

Ronith cursed, setting down the machine and spinning to deal with the battleaxe coming her way. Yelora slipped an arm around Kashur. The machine was still running and there was no time to disable it and portal away. More forces were spilling from the hatch with each second.

Clutching Gorlo under her arm, Yelora helped Kashur lope to the forwardmost edge of the deck, jutting out over an expanse of shallow, stagnant water. She hoped it wasn’t too shallow. She also hoped that, in their current weighted-down and injured state, they could clear the lowest deck.

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Over her shoulder, Ronith fought multiple assailants alone.

“We’re jumping now,” she told Kashur.

“What?”

“On two. One... two!” Yelora launched herself and felt him do the same beside her. It was a weak, short jump whose trajectory would only take them to the forward rail, not past it into the water. The deck below crashed towards them. But Kashur called out a spell, and just before they clipped the bow railing, a cushion of wind lifted them from below, buoying them over the railing and over the water.

It was a jerking, jolting ride, Yelora’s toes skimming the surface until the spell could hold no longer, and they plunged into the cold river. Kashur had managed to fly them past the stagnant shallows and into a strong current at the river’s edge, where the powerful waters yanked them apart. Yelora reeled Gorlo’s leash in. Could the creature even swim? Quickly she saw that he could. He’d been born of water, the same as she. But just ahead of her, Kashur floundered, weighted down by his heavy clothing and hindered by his shattered arm. His head bobbed below the water, rising just long enough to suck in a breath before he went under again.

Yelora fought to swim toward him, but she was at the mercy of the powerful river. Small explosions of water formed where arrows landed, too close.

Looping the end of Gorlo’s leash around her waist and tying it tightly, she dove underwater. Though the current was still strong, she felt more in control down here. She searched for Kashur’s struggling form in the dark, churning water.

Something thrashed nearby. She cut neatly toward it, blanching when she was greeted by two glaring amber eyes.

It was just the creature, Gorlo, on his long leash.

Where’s the Wizard? she signed to him underwater, the slimy river weeds caressing her as the current spirited them along. They’d been holding their breath awhile, and she knew she could hold hers for much longer. But Kashur couldn’t.

The creature just glared at her, so she gave up. Let him be dragged along as she swam if that’s what he preferred. She spotted something else tumbling along in the river’s fury and made for it. She seized a handful of Kashur’s cloak.

It was empty.

Her heart stuttered. Perhaps he’d shrugged free of it so he could swim more easily.

She jetted to the surface, broke through, and scanned the water. No sign of him. But the Dwarf and Imperial forces had launched rafts and were chasing after them. More arrows cut the water nearby. Gorlo surfaced, and Yelora signed to him—Go back down. Swim—then dove back underwater herself.

Where was the Summoner? Had they caught him already? Or had he drowned? He’d barely had the strength to stand, let alone swim.

A hand plunged into the water from above, seizing the cloak and hauling it up, and her with it. A sneering Imperial soldier kneeled over the edge of a raft. He grabbed Yelora by a hunk of wet hair, tossing the cloak aside to be lost to the current.

“Got her!” he cried, dragging her aboard the raft.

Yelora saw the metal box first. With a well-placed kick, she sent it over the side and into the rapids. Two enemy faces registered the same look of terror as their magic dampener sunk. Both turned to her in horror as she blossomed her hands and spoke the spell that paralyzed them. Her staff finished the job.

Gorlo clambered aboard as Yelora toppled the two bodies off the raft and into the current. She touched a crystal in her crown and spoke the shade spell that would make anyone who looked their way see nothing more than an abandoned Dwarven raft being carried along on the current. She scanned the river for Kashur, but there was no sign of him. By now he could be anywhere.

He was a powerful Wizard. He had to have survived. Hopefully, he hadn’t been captured.

Yelora plopped down on her bottom and surveyed Gorlo, who was sucking on his truncated finger. At least she’d managed to hold onto her prize, this damaged, horrible thing. But it was still an Elf, she reminded herself. The newest born Elf. And that was what would save her people.

“You bit me, you little rodent,” she said, finally taking a moment to assess the wound. It was a deep one. She hoped a petty healing spell would be enough to take care of it.

But what of Kashur’s arm? Wizards had exemplary healing skills, but Kashur had been in terrible shape.

He’s probably free of pain now. The thought came, intrusive and unbidden, to her mind. She fought it, but the wild waters around her shared its bleak conclusion. The Summoner was likely dead.

It was deep into night now. The river and its banks were black, with only a sliver here and there of moonlight to give them form. At one point Yelora thought she spotted a head bobbing in the water, but it must have been a trick of the moonlight. Besides, the face had been too smooth and childlike to be Kashur’s.

Exhaustion overcame her. She curled up on the raft, shivering as a cold night wind licked at her wet clothing. The creature lay down as well, naked except for his tattered breeches.

Sprites, let the Summoner be safe, she signed in prayer to the night sky, something she had not done since shortly after being sworn in as queen. Show me what to do next, she signed. And make it all worth it.

Beside her, Gorlo shivered as well. Yelora could conjure them warmth or stealth but not both. Eventually, when they were far enough away, she chose warmth, and the sweet relief of sleep overcame her.