Allies & Enemies Read online

  Jadeth stiffened at the mention of the redheaded woman. She opened her mouth to question the stranger, but Jaeger beat her to it.

  “Who is she?” Jaeger asked. “I’ve not heard of any other gods, Elf.”

  “I am Gabaran,” he didn’t open his eyes. He knew the Earthlander male was glaring at him.

  “I am Jaeger, brother of—”

  “Brother of the hotheaded one? Yes, I figured that out,” Gabaran chuckled. “His anger is unfounded, his reaction foolish. Rare that brothers would be called.”

  “It was not our choice, Elf,” Jaeger frowned. “I would rather see my wife and daughter alive instead, but you are not the one to give out that fate, and it is I who regret.”

  Starlit eyes slit open.

  “Not even I can say that, Earthlander,” Gabaran muttered. A silent unease strained the air in the room.

  Jaeger studied the reclining Elf at that statement and the truth hit him like a punch in the gut.

  “You are Mortal,” he said. “As Mortal as Elfkind can be, admittedly, as your lifetimes are many that of Earthlanders.”

  “Mortal?” Jadeth asked, her gaze wide in the gloom.

  “Aye, the gods don’t suffer the Exiled, I’m afraid. Only one of my people has ever been chosen, and it was her choices that led us into Exile and toward a destiny none could name.”

  Emaranthe perked up, her eyes blazing gold. Anger tightened her lips, but Gabaran spoke before she could retort.

  “Hold, Little Sister,” he closed his eyes again. “Exiles we may be, but godless we are not. We seek the one who holds fate in her hands. As I said, many names she has, but we call her Light far up in the Snow Heights of Tevu-Anat. She will show us our way in the world.”

  “I’ve seen her,” Emaranthe whispered to the room at large. “She appeared in the distance, but as a young child with red hair and an impossible gaze.”

  “Then she has honored you, Little Sister,” Gabaran mused. His ears flicked.

  “Why the name Light?” Jaeger asked.

  “What is the opposite of dark, shadow, and evil?” Gabaran asked the Immortal Earthlander.

  “Light, goodness?” Jaeger said. He frowned, not satisfied with his definition.

  “Inadequate words in the Common Arali tongue?” Gabaran asked. “Elfkin too cannot define such great concepts.”

  “Even in my native tongue, Sarhiran,” Jaeger shrugged in frustration. “There are no words to encompass all that is...good.”

  “So you see why we seek her,” Gabaran added. “We seek the giver of hope, the decider of fates.”

  “Your quest has been long, Big Brother,” Emaranthe spoke up, the fire in her unusual eyes dimmed. “Have you had luck?”

  The large Elf shifted against the uncomfortable metal wall and sighed.

  “I did find her,” he said. “Once. And I knew it was her.”

  “How?” she asked, her eyebrows knit.

  “She is the one who led me to you,” he answered. “And she will be the one to lead me to my fate once again. I fear it will be a sorry one, Little Sister, for the plans of gods are not to be comprehended by Mortals such as I.”

  “Never a sorry fate, Big Brother,” Emaranthe swallowed, unable to keep the sting of tears from reddening her fiery gaze. “Not that, in any lifetime of mine. You will find your god again and her care will give you the answers you seek.”

  “Gabaran, you call her Little Sister. That is a powerful title,” Jadeth interrupted, her gaze swinging between the tiny Mage and giant Elf. “Not many are given one among my people of the forests. Why?”

  “I don’t get it. What does calling her ‘Little Sister’ mean?” Jaeger asked. His frown was so similar to Ivo’s that Jadeth nearly choked.

  “It’s an honorary title to show that a person of the opposite gender is unable to be considered as a mate, ever,” Emaranthe whispered. “I am Little Sister to him and the Tevu-Anat. He is Big Brother to me.”

  “But how?” Jadeth shook her head. Her scarlet braids bounced. “How did you come to know the Lost Tribe? You’ve never spoken of them to us before now.”

  Emaranthe looked away, unable to meet anyone’s gaze from beneath the tangled strands of hair. A shudder shook her whole body.

  “Because they saved me,” she looked up at last. Huge and haunted, her gaze shifted between her friends. “Gabaran was the one who saved me.”

  “It was Light, Little Sister,” Gabaran dragged a large hand over his wizened face. His age sat heavily upon the grooves there, his face drawn at the memory. “She did not speak of us before because to do so is treason among my tribe unless within the company of an Exile, as she is now.”

  Jaeger glanced down at the blonde woman with puzzled respect. “We all have parts of our pasts left unsaid. Sometimes it is better that way. I choose to speak of my dead wife and child to prove to myself that I have not, nor will not, ever forget them.”

  Emaranthe whispered. “And I have none to remember.”

  “Your name…” Ivo’s voice broke over them, thin and strained, from the shadows by the stairwell. They jumped, startled, and turned to peer into the gloom. “Your name is neither Common Arali, Sarhiran, nor Iadma-ni.”

  Emaranthe turned to face the darkness, her gaze hopeful. “No. I am named by my Big Brother. I am Emaranthe which means—”

  “Child of Fire in Elfkin,” Gabaran rumbled, eyeing the warrior hidden in the shadows. “And Big Brother I am in truth, Warrior.”

  Chapter Three

  Ivo melted out of the shadows, his shoulders stiff, unyielding.

  “I am Ivo, Elf,” he said. His eyebrows knit. “Forgive my overreaction.”

  “Fair enough, Warrior,” Gabaran chuckled grimly. “Join us on this lovely floor so we may speak as friends.”

  “Fair enough, Elf,” Ivo said. He sat between Emaranthe and Jaeger, his gear clanking on the floor. As soon as he’d settled, a slight weight leaned into his right arm. Fair hair billowed over it and tangled in the straps and seams. He should untangle Emaranthe’s hair, move aside, put some distance between them; but her face, hidden beneath the blonde strands, was pale, strained. His heart raced at the sight.

  “Emaranthe?”

  “Yes,” she whispered against the metal of his upper arm, her breath fogging the battered armor.

  “I would never hurt you.”

  Her lips curved into a sad smile. “I know.”

  Three pairs of curious eyes watched the exchange from the shifting shadows. The floating flame drifted into the center of their circle, dragging long shadows across weary faces.

  Jaeger interrupted his brother with a pointed cough. “We should take the time to plan our route south, Ivo,” he said.

  Ivo glanced up at his brother. “Truth, brother. Three days south the note said.”

  “Note?” Gabaran asked, drawing all gazes to him. He studied their small group with narrowed eyes. “Does this have to do with the traitor I followed yesterday?”

  “Traitor? Dehil?” Jadeth’s spine stiffened. “It was your arrow that pinned his note to the tent?”

  “Mmm,” Gabaran grunted. “He has led me on a not so merry chase, but I have not used his hide for target practice. Yet.”

  “You are hunting him?” Ivo asked. His frown deepened when Jadeth hissed in response.

  “He and I go way back,” the giant Elf grunted and shot Jadeth a silvery glare. “But perhaps not quite as intimately as you do, She-Elf?”

  “Jadeth! For the love of The Four call me Jadeth!” she snapped and gained her feet before anyone could speak. She paced in and out of the tossing lamplight. “And that traitor is all yours!”

  “Your bitterness is not becoming,” Gabaran grunted, turning away to ignore the feisty female.

  “Your arrogance even less!” she snapped.

  “Wait; what in the name of The Four did he do to you both?” Jaeger interrupted. His gaze travelled between the pair of huffy Elves, confusion and annoyance turning them a frosty blue. Ivo’s eyebro
ws shot up, but he waited for a civil answer.

  “He failed to warn our tribe of an attack. He abandoned us to save his own skin!” Jadeth snapped. Her eyes narrowed on the giant Elf male as if daring him to give an even more sinister response. “Our tribe was wiped out that day!”

  “Your young lover,” Gabaran started, but toned it down with a poorly concealed smirk when her eyes blazed in warning. “Stole all my belongings, including my bow.”

  “Hardly an equal insult!”

  “I did not refute your tale, She-Elf.”

  “Bow? Then it was not your arrow buried in the side of the tent?” Ivo asked, suddenly eager to keep the bristling Elves apart. The thought of the damage the two of them could do was unnerving.

  “The arrow was mine, but what you failed to surmise was that I was not the one who put it there, Earthlander.”

  “So,” Emaranthe mused aloud. “So Jadeth’s friend tricked us into thinking we were being hunted? What would the point be?”

  “None,” Jaeger frowned. “Especially if it was he the hunter was after, not us. So why give us a fake warning?”

  “Or did it contain a different meaning entirely?” Gabaran asked the group at large when all fell silent. Gazes studied each other, the various odd shades clashing with uncertainty.

  “But what did he have to gain, or lose, by tricking us?” Jadeth whispered. She sank back down to the floor, her gaze downcast and ears twitching.

  “I’m not sure it was a trick,” Ivo said. He pulled the scrap of paper from the lining of his gauntlet. He unfolded it and sent a quick draft across the room to push the still hovering flame closer. The shadows stretched and danced over them. “Here, look at it again.”

  “I see it!” Emaranthe said. “Look!”

  “The hole the arrow made is just over the word allies. It is no coincidence, but deliberate. Dehil had been telling us that the man who was hunting him was an ally,” Ivo said. The brittle paper crumpled in his large fingers. He forced himself to relax and not ruin it.

  “Is that possible?” Jadeth asked. Frustrated tears clung to dark eyelashes. “Can he have the foresight to know we should trust an Exile?”

  “I don’t know,” Gabaran frowned, ignoring the pointed remark. “I’ve known him for several years now. Had always thought him a friend until the day he vanished with my gear. Traitor he may be, but liar he is not.”

  “No, he did not lie. Gabaran is as true an ally as we have ever known,” Emaranthe spoke up quickly, her gaze finding and judging their faces in the flickering light. None doubted, and her heart lifted. “But the question begs; why?”

  Ivo glanced down at her. “Why?”

  “Why steal Gabaran’s gear and lead him to us?” she asked with a shrug. The floating fire surged as the draft stirred the dank air once more. “I do not doubt that was his plan all along.”

  “You are right, Little Sister,” Gabaran exhaled and stood with the ease of a man having been in the same body for thousands, of years. “And he led me not astray.”

  “So, you mean to say that Gabaran,” Jaeger muttered, “Is meant to join our quest?”

  “So it seems, but for a purpose only Dehil knows,” Jadeth whispered. “He warns us of allies and enemies. His warning stinks of treachery, but not of his.”

  “I see this as well, She-Elf,” Gabaran said. He ignored her pointed glare. “This warning is not without merit, so we must be watchful.”

  “Aye,” Ivo agreed. He eyed the giant Elf from across the circle. A violent blast of wind shook the rickety tower. “We need to figure out how to get south with no horses and little in the way of supplies.” Ivo ran a large hand down his face, smearing dust and sweat the length of his jaw. Shaded by stubble and grime, his sun darkened skin blended into the shadows. Only his eyes stood out, weary and reddened. Unlike Emaranthe and Jaeger, however, no unnatural power shone from their depths.

  “There has to be some sort of storeroom here at Shed-Akr,” he said. “We will search as soon as this infernal sandstorm lets up. We might as well get some rest now.”

  “I’m not so sure I can sleep with the sound of rocks scraping on metal,” Jadeth grumbled. “The sound wears on my hearing and bites at my mind.”

  “Well, you can always tell us a story and bore us to sleep,” Gabaran snorted. He drew his heavy black cloak over his massive frame and vanished beneath its folds, oblivious to the caustic glare skewering him.

  Jadeth sniffed and shifted her own meager gear into a lumpy pallet. Laying on something was better than the cold metal floor. Used to such grim arrangements, the brothers did likewise without comment, leaving Emaranthe the only one still sitting in contemplative silence. The floating flame shivered, its light twisting their shadows into the darkness behind them.

  “Emaranthe?”

  She glanced up at Ivo, startled. “Hmm?”

  “What is it?”

  “I was just remembering how we first met,” she said. She winced at the piercing screech of sand on metal and looked away. “That was a fateful day.”

  “It was,” he said. “It’s funny how fate works, isn’t it?”

  Dark blue eyes gleamed from beneath the bundle of cloth, lighted pinpricks of curiosity. And annoyance.

  “Well, either tell the tale or shut up,” Gabaran grumbled. He shifted against the cold metal wall and glared at her from the darkness.

  Emaranthe laughed at the Elf and turned to find Ivo studying her, his gaze solemn. Her smile faded as memories of that day surfaced. She swallowed.

  “I can’t believe no one had told me after all these years!” Jadeth pouted. She twisted the tail of a scarlet braid in her fingers and studied her blonde friend. The Mage was pale, her eyes huge in the shadowed room. “Why didn’t you?”

  Jaeger shot Jadeth a pointed frown and she huffed. She rolled over and closed her eyes, but she still waited, breath held, for the tale. She wasn’t upset or even jealous, she had her own secrets, her own dark days that she wished to forget. Trouble was, being an Elf going on three thousand years old… That was a lot of days not counting the ones after she’d been immortalized four hundred years ago. Or the other lives she remembered, the details now dim and full of regret. She swallowed and hid the sting at the corners of her eyes with an arm. Her ears pricked with interest when Ivo broke the silence.

  He chuckled grimly. “It all began with a bet…”

  Old Wood, three hundred four years ago

  “Here, let’s get out of the rain, brother,” Jaeger called over his shoulder. He ducked through the small door into the main room of what appeared to be a tavern.

  Smoky and dimly lit, a steady din of conversation filled the ears. Both men hid sharp coughs when the eye-watering stench of unwashed bodies, booze, and stale food hit them. Tired blue eyes scanned the packed room, noting the few empty seats available. A sole pair in the far corner beside giant wine barrels shared a table with a bundle of dark cloth that was hunched over, unmoving.

  “What is this place?” Ivo asked. He glanced up at the clapboard sign swinging wildly in the driving rain before the wind could slam the door shut. “The Broken Bow Pub?”

  “Come on. I need a drink,” Jaeger muttered. He shoved past a handful of loiterers and wound his way through the raucous crowd to the two remaining seats. The wobbly chair scraped on the rank wood floor and he dropped into it. Ivo sagged into the other seat beside the unmoving bundle of cloth after sparing it a dismissive glance.

  “I’ll get us some ale,” Jaeger hailed a passing servant and waited for her to wind through the crowded room to their table. As she approached, he studied her coarse features out of habit; but her face was square and her hair a graying black, not wavy brown. Bitter disappointment bubbled in his chest as the serving woman stopped beside him.

  “Welcome to the Broken Bow Pub,” The woman stopped her monotonous rambling at the pained look that tightened his face. “What do you want?”

  “Ales… two.”

  “Three,” a soft voice spoke from the
bundle of cloth. The shape moved and a pair of vibrant gold eyes glittered in the shadowed depths of the worn indigo hood.

  “I…uh…” Jaeger stammered for a long moment and glanced at his brother. Ivo stared, bemused, at the huddled figure, his eyes narrowed and searching.

  “Hey, kid, Gadrun told you to get out!” the servant turned her bitter scowl on the strange kid and her voice carried over the din of the crowd, silencing them. “Go on, brat, beat it!”

  “What’s going on, Hania? You’re disturbing—oh, not you again!” Gadrun pushed past the servant and stood, hands on ample hips, glaring at the mound of robes until the bulky shape shrank away in defeat. Middle aged, middle sized, and not quite bright, Gadrun was smart enough to recognize the kid he had shooed from his doorstep several times.

  Ivo frowned when the barkeep’s voice hardened into a furious snarl.

  “Hey, leave the kid alone; he’s just sitting here,” he said.

  “Yeah and he’s not been a paying customer. This isn’t no Inn and I won’t have beggars scaring away paying customers.” Gadrun sneered. He reached across the plank table and grabbed a wad of cloth in his ham-sized fist.

  The unusual eyes darkened perceptibly within the shadows of the hood. For a brief moment, their gazes locked and Ivo inhaled as he glimpsed something he figured few others had.

  Fear… pain… loneliness…

  Ivo stood, knocking the chair to the floor behind him with a loud clatter. His hand moved to the hilt of the sword that had shifted out of nothingness as soon as he moved.

  “Let him go,” he ordered. His voice rumbled a warning, low and deadly, and the room itself froze in shock.

  Gadrun hauled the bundle of cloth across the table with a sneer. He didn’t see the axe gleaming in the scant firelight behind him; but he froze with a quick breath when a smooth, icy blade pressed to the side of his neck.

  The whole room did inhale then as frosty blue eyes leveled on the barkeep.