Page 22 of Dark Elves of Ardani

“The worship of dark gods and courting of demons is no small thing, I assure you.”

She gave another broken laugh. “So you will not allow me to worship my goddess?”

His expression was deadly serious. “No, I absolutely will not.”

She stared at him. For the first time since she’d met him, she was afraid something violent might happen if she said the wrong thing.

After a moment, his expression softened the tiniest bit, and he forced some of the tension out of his shoulders. “She is notyourgoddess, Zara. You’re human, though you seem to forget it sometimes.”

She tried to appeal to reason one last time. “I wanted to paint it on the front door of the inn. If the Varai see the symbol, they will understand that Ravi has protected this place. Perhaps it will keep the villagers safe from them.”

“No. Clean it off.” He looked around the room, spotted the other ones she’s already painted, and scowled. “Clean them all off.” He looked at her expectantly.

Zara slowly put down the bowl of paint, embarrassment and anger curling through her in hot waves. She hated that her instinct was to keep her head down and do as he said. She hated that she was afraid to do anything else.

Things were supposed to be better in Ardani. But she was back where she’d started, no better off than she’d been in Kuda Varai. She was still unable to stand up for herself. She was still under someone else’s control, at the mercy of someone stronger and braver than herself.

Theron arched an eyebrow, his expression dangerous. Unpleasant, vivid memories flashed through Zara’s mind—the sting of a hand striking her face, the fear brought on by a hand on her throat, the shame from being shouted at and degraded.

Furious and frightened and silent, she went to the kitchen and found a bucket and a rag before returning to the hearth. Theron was still there, watching as she began to remove her painting.

* * *

The Shield Mountainswere as beautiful as they were unwelcoming.

There was no snow this time of year, not yet. As far as the eye could see—which wasn’t far, because of the clouds of fog that rolled across these hills day and night, and because lines of sight were frequently interrupted by steep inclines and outcroppings of rock—the land was gray and dark green. Pine trees dotted slopes, clinging to patches of dirt and to cracks between rocks. The air was fresh and bracing, smelling of cold and solitude. The only sound was that of the occasional crack and crumble of rock on the gravel slope beside them.

It was a lonely place. Even the animals seemed to think so. There was no cheerful birdsong or chattering of squirrels. Zara got the feeling that not many creatures lived here. In a way, that made it more beautiful. If you had the appropriate survival knowledge, you could live here in the wilderness and rarely risk running across another person. It was safe in that way. There was a kind of security in knowing you were alone.

Beneath her ugly red cloak, Zara wore the black leather Varai armor she’d been wearing when she’d left Kuda Varai. It was comfortable and well crafted, and she didn’t think she’d be able to find another set of protective clothes that fit her in the village. Theron gave her an odd look when he saw it, but it didn’t have any “evil” symbols on it, so she guessed it was acceptable.

“There are some things we do know about them,” Theron was saying to her as they climbed a narrow path beside a cliff. “They like to stay near trees, of course. Night elves are naturally drawn to them. That’s one of the ways we’ve been able to locate them. There aren’t many forests here. It narrows it down a lot.”

Zara nodded absently, not sure how he expected her to respond, and not really wanting to.

He’d been talking to her in the same friendly way he always had, as if the previous night hadn’t happened. It was like the entire evening had barely made an impression on him. Zara had been deeply unsettled and humiliated by the encounter, and he seemed to hardly even remember it had happened. But that was always the way it was with men like this, wasn’t it?

“Did you find that to be the case during your time with them?” he prompted her.

“Yes,” she said, gazing out at the mountains, and at the forest in a distant valley. “They like trees.”

Zara walked slower until she was at the back of the group with Naika, as far as she could get from Theron. To Zara’s surprise, the woman didn’t protest or even acknowledge her presence when she began to walk beside her. Zara found her silent company oddly refreshing.

Zara had been curious to watch her work magic for something other than violence, but so far, she’d done no spellcasting. Perhaps she was ashamed to be seen using magic. She was a follower of Paladius, after all, and Paladius despised magic.

“Do you write?” Zara asked her when they stopped for lunch.

After ignoring her for the entire morning, Naika now looked up at her, looking bored as she chewed a bite of some Ardanian fruit Zara didn’t recognize. But then she pulled her sketchbook from her pack and raised a pencil to paper. Zara leaned forward to watch with interest.

She did not write, but began to draw again. Zara’s hopes fell as the sketch quickly came together—a knife dripping with gore.

Zara leaned back again, looking away. She understood the message perfectly well. Naika gave her a mean smile.

Another Paladin, who was sitting near them and had witnessed the exchange, laughed. “She was found orphaned on the streets of Valtos when she was a child. From what I hear, she was too proud and angry to be taught to read or write when the monks at the orphanage tried. She probably regrets being such an unruly child now.”

“That is terrible,” Zara said.

He shrugged. “She serves her purpose.”

---