“Yes.”
“For how long?”
He groans from, obscured behind a tree. Then his head pops back out, his eyes shining through the thin lace of grey mist.
“As long as it takes me to find something useful.”
I sigh, crossing my arms and shifting my weight from one foot to another. The air around the tree is too silent. I can hear my thoughts stretch on, broken only by the rustling of leaves and the occasional creak of a tree’s massive branch.
When I think I can’t stand the stillness any longer, a figure emerges from the shadows of the forest.
At first, I gasp, cowering at the larger-than-life image. But then the feminine form steps out of the mist, returning to a more normal size, and I instantly recognize her.
“Glyni,” Vann says, his voice low and tense.
This is one of the elves that lived under the mountain in Enduvida for several months. She’s a decent hand taller than me, with a cascade of auburn strands, braided and twined with tiny glowing flowers, and fierce amber eyes.
She is one of Leader Mrath’s archers, but that never stopped herfrom showing a kind smile to any enduar. She shared a flask of mead with me on more than one occasion.
Rumor has it, she also had a decent series of romps with one of the enduar men, Niht. She knows Enduvida’s culture well—but I feel uneasy out here.
Seeing her here in the forest makes her look different than how she did in the under mountain.
The elf who approaches is almost otherworldly. Her skin is the pale, cool color of a maple tree. It’s unblemished and even.
When she moves closer, her amber eyes sparkle with amusement. She looks between us, her lips curving into a sharp, knowing smile.
“Arlet,” she says, her voice smooth and lilting. Then she turns to my companion. “And Lord Vann! I didn’t think I’d see you again. We’ve been expecting just this lovely human.”
She jerks her head toward me.
“Expecting her?” he replies, his tone clipped.
She laughs, a low, melodic sound that sends a shiver down my spine. “Oh yes. We received a message from Emissary Thorne that Arlet has a problem, Mrath might be able to solve.” She purses her lips and shrugs one shoulder. “Mrath does tend to clean up a lot of your people’s messes.”
Her gaze shifts to me, and I feel pinned under her scrutiny, despite how she reaches for my hand. “So, my dear, what ails you?”
I open my mouth, then close it. Visions of Diego. Blood. So much blood. Ropes. The voices.My stomach roils and the hand she holds turns clammy.
“She’s cursed,” Vann interjects unceremoniously. “It’s dark magic, likely from one of the human witches.”
She frowns and drops my hand. “Abhartach, then?”
Vann nods. “Likely.”
When Glyni looks at me again, her face is full of pity. “We cannot fix that.”
“No, but you can help us find someone who can,” Vann counters.
She smiles. “Well, let’s get you inside to see what we can do.”
As she steps forward, the ground rumbles. Leaves part, revealing a gnarled wooden face emerging from the soil, its massive form embedded in the forest floor. Large, glowing green eyes blink open amidst the branches, and its wooden mouth creaks open to speak in old Elvish.
Glyni bows before the door and murmurs,“Oscailte.”
“Bím i gcónaí ar fáil duitse,”the door responds in a low, lilting accent.
I glance at Vann, catching the way his shoulders stiffen and his jaw tightens. His usual stoicism falters for a moment, and I see something sharp flicker in his eyes.