MAP OF ISUTH

CHAPTER 1

OZANNA

My body rocked in time with a horse’s trotting gait ... but I couldn’t recall when I got on a horse. There was a warm, leather clad body behind me. “Lhoris?” Maybe he would know what was going on. But the slate hand resting on my belly didn’t have his long, elegant fingers, so, it wasn’t Lhoris. It couldn’t be Lobikno either—his hands were just like his brother’s. My vision blurred and I closed my eyes. Bile rose in my throat.

Something was very wrong!

A sudden jolt of fear broke a path through the confusion, and I started sorting through my jumbled memories. I remembered watching Lhoris and Lobikno retreat around the corner of the garden, towards the gates of the chateau, then putting on a kerchief to keep my hair clean and out of the way while I worked in the garden. I was reaching for the last few bean pods I could find in the fading light when a sharp burning sensation flared on the back of my arm. Thinking it was an insect, I swatted at the source, but found a feathered dart in my hand instead of a dead fly. Then nothing until I found myself riding.

No, not riding. I was being carried away on horseback. The arm around my waist did not belong to my mate or friend, but it was a dark elf.

I’d been kidnapped. Again. Fuck!

And for the second time in as many months!

If word ever got back to my Order, I’d never hear the end of it. It would serve me right for letting my guard down. For being too comfortable and too wound up in my worries to notice someone prowling nearby.

I moved to claw my kidnapper in the eyes, but found my hands were bound in front and secured to a ring on the saddle. Shit. So, I tried to jam my elbow into the rider’s belly, but the rope wouldn’t allow enough slack to do anything effective. Damn it.

There was another sting, and I was hurled back into oblivion.

And that was my existence for a long while. I’d wake up and struggle, then find myself stuck with another needle. Until one day I woke up in a cart, tied hand and foot. I was painfully hungry, and ached head to toe. There was no telling if the ache was from whatever poison they’d used to subdue me or being transported without the ability to mind myself. Or possibly, my body consuming itself to stay alive depending on how long I’d been without food. I was certain, however, that my head was sore from where it bounced along the bottom of the cart.

I rolled to my side and pushed myself up on one elbow to try and get a feel for the situation, but it took a few minutes, dizzy as I was. Mountains loomed all around me. “Shit.” It was safe to assume these were Dulanzo’s people, but it would take weeks to reach their territory. Had they kept me unconscious the entire time? My empty belly and aching body thought so. I also reeked of piss, which might explain why I was in a cart. I supposed I should be grateful they’d at least given me water.

The elves around me were very different from the ones in Lhoris’ crew of thieves. Many bore tattoos on their faces or had scars so symmetrical I could only assume they were made intentionally. But it was the look in their eyes and the way they carried themselves that differed the most. These elves had an intelligent, ruthless quality about them where the other crew had simply struck me as petulant and mean.

One of them brought their horse along the cart and laughed at my misery. “You know where you are, girl?”

“Vaguely.” I frowned, head pounding, and glared up at him. “I’m going to see Dulanzo, aren’t I?”

He drew back his lip in a sneer. “And he’s going to enjoy meeting you.”

I grunted and rolled my eyes. “I doubt it.”

“You and your mate killed many of my brothers.” His sneer turned into a sharp, cruel smile. “Even a half-elf can make replacements.”

Apparently racial purity wasn’t a factor in bolstering their expendable forces.

“Your brothers were idiots.” I scowled, trying to hide the flutter of fear rising in my belly with disgust. I really didn't want that life for any child, least of all my own.

Denied the satisfaction of frightening me, he spat in my hair, and pulled away. Maybe I could ride in peace for the rest of the trip. We would be close to our destination if they weren’t drugging me again.

The road finally came upon a broad, grassy clearing with many footpaths worn throughout. At the far side was the entrance to their fortress. It was covered by a typical portcullis and gatehouse in front of massive, heavy doors. The difference being they were built into the foot of a small squat mountain and surrounded by trees instead of a curtain wall. It surprised me—I had assumed they'd use magical means to hide it. Maybe they didn’t have enough power in the warband to conjure something like that or maintain it. Or more likely it was the first of many false fronts and traps.

My escort called to the elves manning the gate and the portcullis lifted with the rattle and clank of its winch. Then the great doors opened inwards to darkness.

“I hope you’re not afraid of the dark, little girl,” rumbled one of the other mounted elves as the tunnel swallowed the caravan. I peered over my shoulder, watching the narrowing strip of light between the doors shrink behind us. They shut with a final, echoing boom followed by the clatter of the falling portcullis. The cart lurched abruptly, as if the path took a sharp right turn away from the mountain. I toppled over gracelessly with a startled grunt. The elves around me laughed while I righted myself. My face heated in furious embarrassment. How could they even see me? How did their horses navigate in such darkness? This was beyond even the animals’ excellent night vision. Though I did occasionally see a flash of elven eyes, which struck me as odd. There wasn’t any light around to reflect in their pupils. Did that mean that the light came from within them?

At least it gave me something to think about while I scooted into a corner, bracing myself to prevent further tumbles. The cart shifted again as the path turned downward.

Without the sun there was no way to tell how long we rode down in complete darkness. The elves passed the time in quiet conversation with each other, naturally in their own language. The tunnel narrowed and closed in tight around the cart, if my ears could be trusted, and eventually opened into some sort of chamber. What seemed like hundreds of eye lights flicked over the caravan from all directions. New voices called and my kidnappers answered, then we were back in another close tunnel.

It might have been an hour, maybe two, before I could see the distant violet glow of light ahead of us. The narrow tunnel opened into a large, natural cave lit by the dimmest little blue and red fairy lights. I could just make out the shapes of small, finger-length stalactites hanging a few feet above the riders’ heads. Was that how their vision functioned best? If that were the case, I could only imagine how miserable the light flooded surface world was for Lhoris and Lobikno.

Sounds didn’t echo quite the way I expected in the cavern. Perhaps it was for the dozen or so small stone buildings scattered about. Their cobbled-together walls stretched from floor to ceiling and probably broke up the way sound carried. The distinct odor of soot and heated metal wafted from the nearest structure as we passed it by, no doubt a forge of some kind. These must be the equivalent of the outbuildings one might find in a castle courtyard, or perhaps the center of a town. Storage, barracks, perhaps a mill … I could smell the stables even if I couldn’t see them.