Page 118 of Blood of Ancients

At some point, a rustling sound caught my attention, snapping me from my dead sleep. My eyes flicked open, finding Grim, Sven, and Corym standing at the front of our group. Magnus was shielding Kelvar the Whisperer toward the back, with the Hersir looking like he actually had some color in his cheeks again.

I hurried to my hands and knees, then my feet. Arne was quickly rising next to me.

Branches and bushes were pushed aside.

Jhaeros, Hunter-Chief of the Northern Kirr wood elves, had returned. He wasn’t alone, this time his entourage numbered more than before. It seemed he had brought his whole Skogalfar tribe to the elfstones to inspect the disturbance in the blood-spirits from our arrival.

For some reason, my heart lifted when I saw him. Even though he had threatened us with death, I was relieved he was here. Because what was the alternative?What if the dark elves are waiting at the portal in Midgard to kill us the moment we return? We can’t go back yet—not so soon.

We had expected Jhaeros at some point, though no one had said anything. We weren’t exactly trying to hide.

“Took you long enough,” I muttered to myself, earning a snort from Sven beside me.

Corym spoke in his regal tongue to Jhaeros.

The bronze-hued warrior flared his nostrils, pointing his spear and waving it around behind him, evidently angry atsomething. Though I couldn’t understand his guttural words, his body language was clear enough.

He was not a happy camper.

Corym said, “He’s not overjoyed we’ve returned.”

“I could guess,” I said. “Is he going to kill us, or what? I thought you were a prince. Can’t you use your, uh, princeliness, to help us?”

He laughed softly. “If only it were so easy,lunis’ai. I’ve told him Dokkalfar have invaded your shores.”

“Shores? They’ve invaded Midgard’sheartland!”

“Right. Well. ‘Shores’ has a better ring to it for elves. We’re born from the shore and when we die we go back to the shore. We’re big on shores.”

I smiled, feeling refreshed from my short rest and because we finally had numbers on our side.As long as those numbers don’t turn against us and kill us all.Corym was starting to sound more humanlike the longer he spent with me, finding humor in even the gloomiest of moments.

“I’m assuming they won’t help us eradicate the Dokkalfar,” I said.

“Absolutely not. Skogalfar have no love for Midgard.”

Yeah, I’d imagined. King Dannon had really fucked us over by staining our name all across the nine realms.

Corym and Jhaeros kept arguing. Arms gesticulated.

Then a throat cleared.

Sven, Grim, and I parted . . . as Elayina waddled through the walkway we’d created, looking like a moss-covered Yoda.

Jhaeros’ words stopped short on a sharp inhale. There was sudden wonder in his eyes. Murmurs spread across his group of thirty hunters, low and eerie.

Elayina, hardly more than four feet in height, squared her bony shoulders and said a few words in Elvish. Her words had a lilting, almost mythical quality to them.

The Skogalfar chieftain went to one knee, bowing his head like a knight to his queen.

“Anvari,” he said in a respectful, hallowed tone.

Even I knew the translation for that, because Corym had told me months back, after calling Elayina by the same title.

Ancient One.

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