Page 70 of Tristan
It’s the sword—it’s magic, the king had it made for me knowing I don’t have the powers of Elves, knowing I’d need them. I continue to slice through these Elves, confident in the powers of the sword in combination with my own fighting abilities.
Diekin is doing well—he looks like he’s having fun. I suppose he wants to amend for failing me earlier. I smile and keep slicing.
We do well and we’re left with a pile of Rogue Elf bodies twelve high.
“Tristan. You fought well.” He’s trying to hide his surprise.
“The king gave me this sword, it’s magic,” I explain, and I realize I’m feeling woozy.
“You don’t look so good. C’mon. We must get you back to Corrik. He’ll lose it when he finds out you’ve come down here.”
“King’s orders.”
“King’s orders?” he says behind him as we run. “Sassem Ylor, kiya! What’s happening up there leaving him with no choice but to send you off on your own?”
“A massacre,” I say as we run up to the second deck. We’re one floor from the top and from Corrik.
He skids to a halt. “Tristan, I have to get you out of here.”
“Out of here? How, exactly?”
“There are lifeboats—if we go back to the lower deck, we can access them.”
“No. We’re not abandoning everyone.”
“That’s it,” he says to himself. “That’s what the king wanted—why he sent you to me. He wants me to get you off the ship, I’m sure of it. You’re the most vulnerable.”
“Diekin, no. Running away is dishonorable.”
“Sack your Markaytian pride. You’re coming with me if I have to knock you out and drag you.”
“No,” says a deep voice from behind. “He is coming with me.”
I recognize Ando, immediately.
“Tristan,run.”
This time I don’t hesitate, I run remembering the trouble I got Diekin into for not listening to his orders. I hear them fighting, Diekin and the prince of the Rogue Elves, and the sounds fade into the background as I head down the hallway. This ship is way too bloody huge. I still don’t know its every turn, but I know I’m on the floor where Corrik’s and my bedchambers are.
Two Elves chase me down a hallway and I turn right then left, hoping to force them into splitting up once they realize that if they do, they could surround me. My plan works better than I hoped, and I lose them completely. It’s quiet and I don’t know where to go. Should I plan on meeting Diekin at the lifeboats? Or head up to Corrik and the others? What if Diekin is right? What if the king wanted me off the ship? I have no idea, so I decide I’ll stick with Diekin’s plan for now—where are the damn stairs?I make it down another hall and realize I’m near my and Corrik’s room. I duck inside. Perhaps there are some items Diekin, and I could use for our journey.
My pack is sitting as always on my side of the bed. I grab it and begin stuffing food inside. There is always a tray of fruit, dried meats and cheeses provided for me and Corrik. I dump as much as I can into my pack. There aren’t any other weapons around—except my dagger, I realize. I don’t know where Corrik hides it, and I don’t have a lot of time for looking so I quickly check through his bedside table. Nothing but too much lube, which I grab a bottle of, in the first drawer—who knows what I could use it for. In the second drawer, there’s no dagger, but there is Papa’s ring. I snatch it and stuff it into the front pocket. There’s little time, I must leave, but I can’t help feeling that dagger might be handy. I don’t know what lies ahead for Diekin and I. I open the armoire, and rifle through more of Corrik’s things. Nothing. I’m about to give up when I spy something glinting from beneath a pile of clothes.
“Gotcha,” I say as I unearth it—still in its sheath. I tie it to my leg.
Someone falls inside the door, loud and sloppy. “There you are.We must go.” Thank the Gods it’s Diekin, but he’s injured and bleeding worse than before. The surface wound across his chest has been slashed open; he’s losing a lot of blood. Medicine! I grab lube, but no medicine. I know Corrik keeps some items in our room that have healing qualities. I run to those cupboards.
“Come! We have little time.” His breath is labored.
I swing the pack over my back and give a last regret-filled look to the room and then turn to follow him.
That’s when I see something move behind Diekin.
“Diekin.”
The Rogue Elf prince is there and runs his sword straight through Diekin’s torso. Diekin falls unconscious, but I can see he is still breathing.
Andothair steps over his body like it’s nothing more than a log. “Shall we then?”
