Page 56 of Light and Shadow
I step into his path. “Whatever the magic was, it saved us from having to slaughter them all. There’s nothing we can do for the rest of them now.” Looking into the dawn, I make out a few retreating figures running northeast. “I think they may be heading to the sacred forest.”
Fancor pats Harper on the back and gives her a sympathetic look, as if he were her uncle. “They won’t last long in there. They say the sacred forest never gives back anyone or anything that stumbles inside.”
Jax snorts. “Fables and folklore. It’s just a forest. If they’re smart, they’ll stay within and remember how to feed themselves on the berries, rabbits, and fish. If not, they barely had enough on their bones to last the week.”
My spell has dissipated and Jax’s is only a moment behind. Now, with the illusion of an army gone, we are just a ragtag group, looking little better than the Aracan.
I turn toward the ship namedGaithgaisce. “Bert, can you have a look and see if she’s seaworthy?”
He nods and points to the name. “What does it mean, Nainsi?”
Nainsi lets out a long breath. “Windfoe, or fighter of wind.”
“We’ll have to hope she won’t fight too hard.” He calls the four elves with sailing experience to go with him, including Beran.
They board with Jax and two more armed men to secure the boat and discover whether or not we can sail it across a very unforgiving sea.
My charges bring our meager food to the port’s edge.
Dorian shakes his head. “I’ll take two hunters with me, and we’ll see if we can find something more. This won’t last two days.”
“How long will we be at sea?” Harper’s cheeks are already turning green, and we haven’t set foot on the ship yet.
“At least five days,mo chroi. It’s a wide sea, and we can’t sail through the forbidden waters. It would be more direct, but too dangerous. We have to go southwest to the islands, cut through, then sail north along the coast to the north port.” I wish there was another way.
“All of this because I went into the woods for some peace during a party.” She sits on an old stack of pallets.
Cara sits beside her and pats her knee.
Dorian strings his bow and leans down to kiss his wife’s cheek. “We would still be slaves had you not come to Tobhtá. Everything for a reason, my friend.” With a squeeze of Cara’s hand, he and two others go hunting south of the port.
I call to them. “See if you can find any berries or vegetables. Fish should be available, but we’ll need to ration water and the rest.”
Dorian waves in acknowledgment but doesn’t turn back.
“Aaran,” Bert calls from the railing. “You’d better get up here.”
There’s no fear or signs of danger, so when Harper walks with me, I don’t try to dissuade her. Not that it would matter. I’m beginning to realize that trying to protect her is fruitless. She’s in danger, and she will continue to be until we defeat the witch queen. Maybe I can teach her to control her magic rather than use it only when desperately wishing.
We walk up the ramp and find the deck clean and clear. “They have been doing some upkeep.”
Bert nods. He points to the second ship. “No hope for that poor girl.” The smaller ship is listing badly and will soon sink or break apart.
“Does that mean she can’t get her army across the sea if she has more Aracan elves and we take this ship?” Harper runs her hand along the rail and jerks as a splinter pierces the pad of her finger. Using her teeth, she pulls it out and wipes the dot of blood on her pants.
Continuing aft, Bert disappears down a steep stair that leads to the hold.
Expecting to find some horror, I follow, keeping my hand on my sword hilt.
Weeping, quiet and childish, reaches me before my eyes adjust. In the hold, lit only by a few portholes and the growing dawn, it’s difficult to see.
Jax and Nainsi stare down at seven small children huddled on some blankets. A girl of perhaps twelve or thirteen with arms crossed stands, guarding the crying little ones. Her hair is light brown dreads, and a streak of dirt marks the left side of her tanned face. She’s wearing leggings that may have once been blue but have faded to gray with sun and dirt. They’re too short for her long legs. She hisses at me.
“She either can’t or won’t speak.” Nainsi shrugs.
Taking my hand from my sword, I kneel. “Do you know the common language?” I ask in both common and old elven.
“I know.” Her voice is rough and cracked, as if speaking at all doesn’t come easily.
