Page 50 of The Last Valkyrie

The camp was just over the next hill, so we shut up to get to work.

Creeping over the incline, crouched, I Shaped runes around me. Corym had his elven blade drawn, close to his side. Our eyesmoved on a swivel. So far, no sign of any dark elves protecting the portal.

We stopped at the summit and went to our bellies to survey the scene. Heads low, we searched, and Corym nodded to me silently, jutting his chin at a specific point in the razed camp.

Though there was no immediate sign of anyone here, I noted the fresh tracks of boots embedded in the grass where he pointed with his chin. Morning dew had traced around the footsteps, where they would have been covered at any other time.

Nodding, I took a dagger from my belt and nicked my arm. I dragged the blade over two previous scars, wincing at the fresh cut that drew blood. I used my Shaped runes from the base of the hill to draw figures around us, and they began to form.

It was a clear morning, with no mist to help us traverse our mad rush. The cabin holding the portal was about fifty yards away, at the end of the camp.

My hands moved to silently craft the runes, and before long the shadows around us swelled and multiplied. Next, I drew another Shape, using a new directive with the source of my power, the blood dripping down my forearm burning and sizzling to create a fresh scar.

What would have been a few measly shadow-figures from a regular runeshaper became nearly a dozen with my added bloodrending. Their frames took on humanoid shapes and features, including cloudy eyes and smoky hair tendrils. They circled us underneath the hill, out of sight, unmoving because they’d been given no direction.

With my new Shape and directive chosen, I started flinging the shadows downhill, into the fray of the village. They quickly dissipated and emerged elsewhere—to the west, our left, among the trees at the edge of Delaveer. East, in the empty glades and meadows.

Then I cast my third and final rune, and the shapes began to move among the brush, foliage, and trees.

Shouting abruptly spread throughout the camp, and what had seemed like a peaceful, serene morning scene became chaos.

Dark faces appeared from pockets of trees and plains where they’d been hiding, crouched and waiting in ambush. Yet these weren’t the dark faces of my shadow-images, because my shadows could not speak.

Dark elves swarmed the camp. A crowd of three headed left toward the trees where my shadows acted like decoys. Another group of three headed east toward that section.

The Dokkalfar thought they were being ambushed.

Well that explains where the dark elves have gone!

Corym and I were up immediately from our bellies, dashing down the hill as the route emptied for us like parting seas.

We sprinted full-bore. My thighs ached as we reached the bottom of the hill, the portal cabin closing in fast.

Hope filled my chest, my mind whirling.

A figure stepped around from the side of the cabin, black blade drawn.

It was the leader of the dark elves with the white bun atop his head, a cruel grin on his face. His free hand gestured freely.

“Mind the gap!” Corym shouted.

All around us, the other dark elves were speaking their harsh tongue to regroup, realizing they’d been duped and distracted. They closed in on us from the sides.

I calculated Corym’s words, then understood their meaning a second later as a pit-trap of blackness opened in front of me—the same kind this elf had cast the first time that nearly got me and Kelvar killed.

This time, I was ready for it, and I hopped over the yawning hole while drawing my steel.

Corym cast elven magic, green energy coalescing around him. “Gresh’kellen!” he shouted, and I wondered if he knew this dark elf by his name. They had fought before, outside Elayina’s tree-cave, and I knew their skills were nearly equal.

“Go!” Corym yelled as he dispelled a black tendril of magic from Gresh’kellen with a spell of blinding sunlight.

Their blades met with a mighty clang—black and silver energy colliding.

I streamed past the dark elf leader and pulled up short just outside the portal, worry wracking my features as I spun around.

The six dark elves from the fringes closed in fast, their hands waving in madness, a blight of power rising up from their gestures.

Corym would die if he stayed to fight and defend my retreat.

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