A Dance of Death (30 page)

“Where’s that?” he asked.

She gave him a look as if he were a simpleton.

“To their forest,” she said. “They’ll take her to Quellassar, and once there, not even the greatest army of man could save her from their blades.”

A
lyssa awoke in the middle of the act of vomiting, her stomach heaving while her abdomen tightly cramped. Vertigo came next, the ground seemingly above her. Closing her eyes, she realized she was slung over someone’s shoulder. Soft whispers in a language she assumed was elvish came from either side of her. Daring to open her eyes once more, she saw they were running. With strange glee she noticed she’d vomited on her elven captor’s boots.

When she tried to look up, she felt pressure on both her neck and her wrists. They were tied together, she realized, with an intricate knot. Testing, she tried pulling her wrists apart, only to choke off her next breath. Struggling would be useless. Trying to relax, she looked up as much as she could without strangling herself, in a vain hope she’d recognize her surroundings. But there were no nearby buildings, no distinguishable landmarks. Instead she saw hills, and grass, and the occasional cluster of trees.

Her heart sank. The elves had captured her from her prison, knocked her unconscious, and then smuggled her out of Angelport. Whatever safety she might have known in her cell, it was gone.

“Where are you taking me?” she asked.

The elf tensed, and the sickening motion of his running halted. The ground pitched before her, and then she hit, having been unceremoniously dumped to the grass. She rolled over, forced to sit on her hands since they were tied low and behind her back. Three camouflaged elves gathered about her, two men and one woman. Their faces were painted in various shades of blacks and grays, their clothing dark and loose. They’d pulled off their hoods, though, and there was no mistaking the point of their ears.

“You have no right to ask questions,” said the one that had carried her. He was the tallest of the three, with long golden hair stretching to his waist.

“Why not?” she asked, knowing she had to get them talking if she were to have any hope.

“Does the butcher tell the pig where it’s going on the way to the slaughter?” asked the female.

“I am no pig.”

“I know others that might disagree.”

The third elf snapped at them in elvish, and the two fell silent. He was shorter than the female, with emerald eyes that were mesmerizing to behold. Alyssa tensed as he knelt before her and grabbed her chin with his fingers, tilting her head so she would look directly into his eyes.

“You are to be granted an audience no human deserves,” he said. “We will let you kneel in the presence of our princess, and hear her pronounce judgment against you for your crimes. You sent your pet after her, but we are no fools. We know the evil that lurks in mankind’s heart. Others may be naive enough to seek peace, but we are not. You will die, Alyssa. Your corpse will be burned, so perhaps your ashes will foster life in our forest to atone for your betrayal.”

He leaned closer, as if he were about to kiss her.

“That is, if we do not send your head back to the lords of Angelport so they know Celestia’s children will no longer suffer their foolishness and greed.”

Alyssa swallowed, and every bit of contempt her position had fostered over her lifetime surfaced to protect her with a strong mask.

“If your princess would be so foolish as to execute me, then prepare to be the last of Celestia’s children. War will follow, and make no mistake, your race will not survive.”

He gently cupped her cheek in his palm and smiled.

“Strong words,” he said. “Strong, hollow words. Stand up.”

Slowly she obeyed, grimacing at the aches in her lower back and legs. Stealing a glance behind her, she saw the fading lights of Angelport at least a mile in the distance. She’d hoped to be closer, and tried not to let the disappointment show. Still, no matter the distance, there was Zusa and Haern. They would find out at some point, though she could only guess when. Once they learned, they would come for her…but would she still be alive by then?

The elf with emerald eyes slashed the rope that bound her ankles tightly together, but left the others.

“Run if you wish,” he told her. “I would gladly accept a reason to kill you.”

Instead Alyssa stood as straight as her bonds allowed, refusing to let them defeat her in any way.

“Lead on,” she said. “I do not fear your princess, nor any fate she decrees.”

The tall elf laughed, and the female grabbed the severed rope at her feet. She looped it about Alyssa’s neck, and then held the end.

“Come, dog,” she said. “Stand proud if you wish. You will still arrive on a leash.”

They led her further from Angelport, toward a copse of trees that appeared to be growing about a pond. Every noise made Alyssa tense. Every shadow she hoped was Zusa peering out from the darkness. The rustle of leaves and grass in the wind was the Watcher’s approach. Yet on and on they walked, and no one came. As they neared the copse, Alyssa realized the pond was nothing but an illusion, and with each step it faded away, revealing a large tent built behind a roaring bonfire.

Several elves stood around it, but one in particular caught her eye. It was Laryssa, sitting beside the fire in an elegant dress. In the yellow light, Alyssa could see the bruises fading from her face, as well as a bulge in the side of her slender dress, no doubt from her bandages. Her skin had faded, looking pale and sickly. Alyssa’s heart ached, despite the false blame put upon her. To see a beautiful woman of noble birth beaten and marred in such a way felt vile and against all proper order of things. She could understand their anger as they led her toward the fire, but that did not change her mood. Her life depended on maintaining her composure, and convincing them of her innocence.

“Greetings, Lady Laryssa Sinistel,” she called out as the light of the fire reached her skin. “I heard you’d returned to Quellassar. Consider me both surprised and pleased to be a guest in your presence, as you were once a guest in mine.”

By the way Laryssa’s face twitched, she could tell the comment stung. Alyssa knew much of mankind’s traditions in court and nobility were based on the elves’ own culture, and to appear inferior in any way insulted their sensibilities.

“Remove her bonds,” Laryssa ordered. “She poses no threat, and must still give her testimony before I pass judgment.”

Alyssa stared at her as the elves cut her free. Absently she rubbed her throat, which felt raw from contact with the rope. Glancing at herself, she saw her dirty, torn dress, the same she’d worn since being taken from the temple days ago. No doubt she looked the pauper amid the finely dressed elves. Even those that had captured her, in their leather armor, appeared more prepared for a pleasant evening than she did.

Laryssa asked one of elves something in her native tongue, and when given the answer, she frowned. Alyssa could only guess the reason.

“Do you know of a woman with dark skin?” Laryssa asked. “Her hair is black, cut short, her body wrapped in strange clothing. One of your servants, perhaps?”

Alyssa wondered why they’d ask, but knew she couldn’t risk lying. The elvenkind were known for their excellent skill at detecting lies, and beyond that, she had no idea what magic might be cast about the camp. Every lie she spoke might let out a great plume of smoke for all she knew.

“The woman you describe sounds like a companion of mine named Zusa,” she said. “Why do you ask?”

Again Laryssa spoke with the three who had brought her. Her frown deepened.

“Because she appears to have killed four of my warriors. Your crimes against me only grow, Alyssa.”

“No doubt she thought she was protecting me,” Alyssa said. “Indeed, what else might she have thought when elves come at night, break into a human prison, and drag me across the land for a secret trial? I have sworn no allegiance to you, Laryssa. Only to the king’s justice do I bow, and only he may administer it. You have no authority here, not in our lands, and not with one of the king’s citizens.”

This caused a stir among the elves, and more puzzling, she saw that it was not just anger at her words. A spark of hope burned in her chest. Could it be there were elves, even in this dark court, that actually agreed? Rarely were humans unified in thought when it came to anything. Surely it made sense elves were the same, even if to a lesser extent. More than anything, she wished she had learned their language. Her old advisor had suggested it many times, but she’d shrugged him off, not seeing the point. Listening to the fluid words all about her, she now saw otherwise. Too late, of course. That tended to be how those things went.

“We have tried finding justice in your courts,” Laryssa said, ending the argument. “Just as we have tried for peace. Ingram hanged men he claims killed Sildur, but I know he only guesses, only hopes we accept such a petty token. Angelport is sick with betrayal, rife with anger, and ruled by cowards and greedy men. No, out here, in the wild, we will pass our judgment, and have our justice. You may not accept any court other than your king’s, but your crimes have gone beyond the human realm, and into ours. As for your war…”

Laryssa stood, leaning heavily on her chair. Despite the shaking of her arm, she let it go, and stood to her full height without aid. Looking down at Alyssa, she shook her head.

“We do not fear the blades and fires of man. We are Celestia’s children. My father walked the land when your gods first breathed life into the dust, creating such imperfect servants. We saw you come from dust, and will still be here when you return to it, having learned nothing, accomplished nothing. Only destruction. It is all you humans know.”

All about her, the elves cheered, and whatever hope Alyssa had dwindled and died. She was not on trial, not anymore. There in the starlight, she stood representing the crimes of all her race. Her innocence didn’t matter. Her words of defense would not change anything. The elves wanted blood for Laryssa’s wounds, and for the others killed by the mobs. Random lowborn peasants hanging from ropes would not satisfy them. They wanted the highborn, the nobles. Someone whose death would matter. Someone like Alyssa.

She prayed her execution would be swift, and painless.

“Look at me,” Laryssa said, stirring Alyssa from her thoughts. “Tell me, why did you send your pet after me? Let me hear it with my own ears, the reason for your betrayal. Was your anger so great, all because we would not risk our lives for you? Is that it? I saw the eye drawn with my blood, and know it was left by the Watcher, who you brought with you from Veldaren.”

Alyssa stood tall, refusing to be humbled, regardless of her attire or the filth of the dungeon caked to her skin.

“When the mob attacked you, I was in hiding at a temple of Ashhur. I did not send the Watcher after you, nor my friend, Zusa. Even now, you are manipulated by the fools you so openly deride. Do you think you would have lived if I had sent the Watcher? Do you think he’d be so foolish as to leave his mark? You believe the lies you hear because you desire vengeance, and I fit every falsehood you put upon my kind. You want to believe us betrayers, murderers, a race without hope, without redemption. Even those who helped you might turn on you, that’s what you want to believe. You need it, all so you can justify the bloodshed you wish to create.”

She turned and spat, knowing full well how great an insult it would be doing so in front of their princess.

“I will have no part of it, and will accept no blame. I never betrayed you. It was you who betrayed me. I never struck against you. It was you who came after me, killing all in your way. I have tried to prevent warfare, yet you have courted it with every word you speak, and every arrow you fire. Execute me if you wish, but I die innocent, and the war you so desperately seek will destroy the last hope of peace between our kind. Go on, Laryssa. Kill me. Let me see the hatred, ignorance, and bloodlust in your eyes, so I may know elf and man are alike in every…single…way.”

The camp went silent. She could sense the mood about her, and it had turned decisively cold. A sarcastic smile tugged at her lips, and she truly could not care. For so long she had helped the elves, trying to find a compromise that would benefit the Trifect while minimizing the loss of life. If they wanted to kill her for it, then so be it. Her heart ached for Nathanial, and she wished to hold him in her arms and say goodbye, but the world was a cruel place. She’d learned that long ago, sitting in her own father’s dungeon, shivering in the cold.

“On your knees,” Laryssa said. When Alyssa refused, two elves approached, grabbed her shoulders and forced her to obey. One of them tugged her hair so she would lower her head respectfully.

“Alyssa Gemcroft, I find you guilty of your accused crimes. By your word, you struck against my kind, inspired mobs to riot, and nearly took my own life. You deserve a lengthy execution, but because of your rank, and your past cooperation, I will give you a painless death.”

The elf with the emerald eyes drew his sword, the blade sliding smoothly out of the oiled scabbard. Pulling back on her hair, he lifted her up, so she might face Laryssa. The keen edge of his sword pressed against her throat, and all around her, the elves held their collective breath.