Page 13 of Revenge of the Elf Lord

Tarran stood. “Yes, I have not visited with Nala in a few weeks, so I’d best come with you. She has a wicked temper if she doesn’t like you.”

“Tarran! That’s my wife you’re talking about.”

The village leader chuckled, throwing a dark green cloak over his shoulders. “And she’s my sister. I can say whatever I like, if it’s the truth. You did not grow up under her temper.” He laid his hands on both boys’ shoulders. “Stay here and mind the house. Keep watch. I will give Aunt Nala your love and will return soon.”

No sooner had the three men left the house than three more villagers stopped them, asking for the healer to visit their sick. By the time they reached Elreth’s tiny hut, they had been stopped no less than twenty times.

In case Elreth was contagious, Cyran laid his hand on Tarran’s shoulder, feeling the rough material of his cloak as he whispered the protection spell. Once the spell was secure over them, he pulled back his hand and gave the men a curt wave to lead the way. “Let’s go in and see what ails your sister, shall we?”

After a quick examination, Cyran motioned for the two men to follow him back outside. He noticed the slight flushing of Elreth’s skin and the layer of sweat beading across his forehead. “Elreth, you need to go inside and stay with your wife. Better yet, crawl into the bed with her because I think you, too, have what she has. I’m going to go see the other sick to make sure this is all the same thing before I make any diagnoses.”

One of the men who had already asked about having the healer visit his home returned, his expression more distressed. “Tarran, I must speak with you.”

The older dwarf nodded. “I know you are worried about your children, Lyari, but Cyran will stop at your hut as soon as possible.”

Lyari shook his head, dropping his chin as he glanced around them, ensuring no one could overhear. “It is not about my children, although I am worried. I was sent a missive from our liaison at the palace. The king has brought in creatures. They are moving from village to village. Those who fight back, they kill. The ones who surrender are taken to the dungeon. Who knows what happens to them once there? I thought you should know—to prepare.”

Tarran scrubbed his face. “Thank you, Lyari. Go home and be with your sweetlings. They are going to need your protection.”

After visiting with all the sick, they returned to the first house to tell Elreth that everyone who was ill seemed to have the same symptoms. Cyran followed Tarran back to his home with a weary tilt of his head.

Only when the door closed and the lock clicked shut behind them did Cyran meet the leader’s bleak gaze. “As many sick people as you have in this village, my gut is screaming at me that we are going to be in over our heads with whatever this is. Neither elves nor dwarves get sick, and I have never seen a disease like this. I also need to get to the mountain.”

Tarran nodded. “We will leave for the palace tonight and hope our arrival tomorrow is not too late.”

5

Shalendra hid in the far corner of the cell, her hand wrapped around Castien’s. The rioting inside the prison’s walls had been going on for two days, at least by her estimation. How is time relevant when darkness reigned over the days and nights?

A loud bang sounded down the hall, followed by someone running as heavy boots clomped against the stone floor. Thankfully, they were moving in the opposite direction. From the horrid sounds and heart-stopping screams coming from the surrounding cells, she and Castien had been forgotten. She wanted to remain that way.

“What do you think is happening, Castien? Has Ashia found out anything?”

“Only what we already know. The mountain is under siege, and several packs of werewolves have shown up, a good number fighting on both sides.”

Her eyebrows rose. “Werewolves? Do you think my father is here?”

“Truthfully, my friend, I have no idea. She says one group is all black and fighting for the king. The other group has mixed colors with an all-white werewolf in charge. They are with the dwarves, so your father could be among them.”

“No, my father would be leading them. He told me about an all-white werewolf who has sworn allegiance to Raisa. He saved her life during the war on Midgard, and then she turned around and saved him.”

“How romantic.”

“Umm, no. It wasn’t like that at all. His name is Kazimir Fedorov, and he is her sworn protector. Raisa married Ailuin Vakas.”

“The Elven co-regent in Alfheimr?”

She nodded, then realized he couldn’t see her without Ashia’s blue light. “Yes, the same.”

“Hmmm, I wonder, since we’re sort of cousins and all, if the co-regents would outlaw being gay like the dwarf king has here?”

“Well, we will just have to ask them. I will vouch for you if that helps. You’re a good person and an even better friend. If they have any reservations, though, you could move to France and live with me. You would like it there. Time is faster in our realms, by quite a few centuries, but we can study Freyja’s God’s Glass to figure out the best time for you to live on Midgard.”

She thought a moment. “During World War II, late 1930s to 1945, you would have been sent to one of the Nazi concentration camps. Maybe attitudes change by 2020 or thereabout, but we will research first. You may have to go to 2030, just to be certain you’re safe.”

“Thank you, Shalendra.” He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and pulled her over in a hug, kissing her cheek. “You are an extraordinary person, you know that? No one has ever accepted me for who I am and not who they think I should be, so that means everything.”

She patted his warm hand, liking the shared heat. She loved that she didn’t have to worry about giving him the wrong idea and that she, too, could be herself without worrying about how he would take it. It was refreshing. “I’m just me—” Another loud crash cut her off, and her body jerked. Listening to the stealthy noise as it crept down the hall, fear churned inside her. Something moved closer to their cell.

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