Page 132 of The Daughter of the Scarred Elf

“Yes.” Kolfinna grimaced.

“What happened to everyone else?”

“I don’t know.”

“And Sijur?”

She absentmindedly rubbed her naked wrist; she had somehow gotten used to seeing it so often, that now that it was gone, it almost looked strange. Like a part of her uniform was stripped from her. And it probably was—because now she wasn’t a soldier anymore. She was a prisoner.

“Dead,” Kolfinna whispered.

Blár tried sitting up and instantly doubled over.

“Don’t move too much!” Kolfinna rested a hand on his shoulder to keep him down.

“No, we have to get out of here,” he gasped, blinking in the darkness. “Do you think you can open up the wall with your stone magic?”

“I can try.” She concentrated on her mana; it rushed to her fingertips in seconds, but when she placed a hand against the cool stone floor, her mana wouldn’t leave the pads of her fingers. She tried again, but once more, nothing happened. It was then that she noticed the golden runes on the walls.

Kolfinna cannot use magic. Kolfinna cannot escape.

She cursed softly, her hands curling into fists. If she couldn’t use her magic, then did that mean they were stuck here permanently?

“Well?” Blár asked quietly.

“I can’t use magic because of the runes, but they don’t mention you, so you should still be able to.”

He tried shimmying his wrists against the shadows binding him and let out a string of curses. “I can’t. I don’t know why.”

Kolfinna tried touching the shadows, but they seemed to roar to life, growing wilder like flames.

“Maybe …” She motioned to the shadows. “Those are stopping you?”

“Maybe.” He tried moving his hands, but a movement from his broken arm made him curse again and his face darkened in pain. “Damn it. Now what?”

Kolfinna folded her hands together on her lap. She didn’t know what to do anymore. Sit tight and be a prisoner for an ancient elf and fae army? And the half-elf had mentioned that he would use Blár as a mana slave. If she couldn’t save herself, she at least wanted to save him from that fate because if there was someone who could defeat the half-elf, it was Blár.

He just needed more practice. More experience against elves and fae alike.

Jumping to her feet, she rushed over to the window once more. They were on the second floor, and the drop below was the battlefield. There were a few fae flying about, picking up the bodies of their fallen comrades, and she noted that they ignored the human corpses altogether. Judging by how the darkening sky was slowly ripening, the sun would rise soon.

If they managed to break these bars, they could probably squeeze through and sneak off into the forested area beyond the battlefield. Especially if they slunk along the corpses and if Kolfinna created a camouflage of stones and rocks to protect them.

It was possible.

Kolfinna placed a hand on the runes circling the room. She closed her eyes to better focus. She tried not to listen to the moans and groans of the battlefield, to the flap of fae wings filling the sky, or Blár’s ragged breathing.

She imagined she was somewhere tranquil. In a forest, perhaps. With wild flowers around her, with a stream tricklingto her right, to birds chirping cheerily in the background. She channeled her mana into the runes and tried breaking them.

Nothing happened.

Kolfinna breathed out deeply and tried again.

Still nothing.

By the fifth time, she stopped altogether and slammed her fist against the golden runes. “Damn it!” she said, tears stinging her eyes. The runes were too strong, and no matter how much mana she flung at them, they refused to break for her.

“Use my mana,” Blár whispered weakly. “To break the runes.”

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