Page 49 of The Elven Healer's Apprentice

The female shook her head. “Human or not, it is a poor excuse to execute such a small human. It’s so puny I’m half inclined to throw it back.”

“Don’t you dare.” Murk growled and spat. “I caught her fair and square. Risked encountering the king of Eldarlan’s royal healer. If he had seen me, it would’ve been the end of me.”

“Really?” A folded space spell flared to life at the woman’s fingertips, and the packed camping gear disappeared inside the spell. “Let’s move. I don’t like the feel of this mission. Something is wrong with stealing innocents for monsters such as Hectorius.”

Murk snorted again. “Fine, but you carry her this time. She’s too bony.”

“Whine, whine,” the female mocked, but she complied anyway, hefting me up so I rested stomach-down over her formidable shoulder.

Hours of gut-bruising travel later, I heard the familiar sounds of human habitation. Wagon wheels creaking, children playing, adults squabbling and gossiping. By my limited observations, I guessed we walked through the center of the village outside the fortress. The female that carried me elicited plenty of whispers and speculation, but the changeling got nary a comment.

Finally, we came to a halt before a familiar gate. The changeling announced their purpose, and the guard came around behind to grab my head and lift it, twisting my neck harshly to get a good look.

“Yes, it’s the traitor,” he announced loudly. “Let them through.”

Once inside the gates, I was thrown in the dirt again, landing heavily and wrenching my shoulder. I blinked back tears from the pain as a guard hauled me to my feet by my forearm on that side. I cried out despite my efforts to remain soundless.

“Silence.” Something hit my head. I lost my balance and fell hard.

“Don’t kill her,” a male voice ordered. “The warlord wants the pleasure. And you know what he does to those who hinder his pleasure.”

I was grabbed once again, forced to my feet, and practically carried inside. Between pain and the sensation of the world turning in a tipsy whirl, I lost track of the turns. But when they drew me up short before a heavy wooden door, I knew instantly where we were, my old chamber.

Within moments, the lock had been undone, and the door yanked open.

“In you get. Best make your peace with your Maker,” the guard advised before shoving me hard between the shoulders. I stumbled on the uneven pavers, fell hard, hit my head, and knew no more.

∞∞∞

Merlon

“When?” I demanded in a hissed whisper of the shadow elf next to me.

My companion, Vicre, rolled his eyes. “As soon as I receive the signal. Not before.”

I grimaced. In all the years between my childhood and now, I had forgotten there were worse experiences than walking through the shadow lands: standing in them.

This waiting for a signal was taking far too long. What did it take to be let through the gates of a warlord’s fortress?

“This human, how fragile is she?” Vicre asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Humans range from easily breakable to hardy. Where does she land?”

“Why?”

Vicre tensed in irritation. “Will you just answer the question?”

“She tends to be above average. Now tell me why you asked.” Tempted to strike the elf, I reminded myself the action would be counterproductive. He was my only way into and out of Adela’s prison. I needed him. Besides, I was sure Illeron would not take it lightly if I assaulted one of his underlings.

“Word is they stowed her in her old chamber. They probably roughed her up first.”

Worry and anger warred within me. I let the concern win and reached into my folded storage to sort through my elixirs. I would need one for mending bones, one for general malaise, and—

“This human is important to you, isn’t she?”

I glanced at Vicre through the constant gloom of the shadow lands. His expression leaned more toward curiosity than hostility.

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