Page 22 of In Darkness Forged
“We will provide supplies and a vial for the venom.” The regent sounded as if he were granting some tremendous boon. “And perhaps a weapon for the human?”
Putting sharpened steel in the hands of the human seemed like a quick way to be rid of her, if Tal were any judge. But what did he care? He would be leaving her behind soon enough.
“Do as you will,” he replied, his eyes fastened on the hands that even now unlocked his chains.
Freedom. It was almost his. And once he was released, if he were truly as honorless as they implied, he could choose to forget what he’d promised, forget what he owed Lani, forget everything but laying waste to this convocation hall in payment for their cruelty.
Cruelty… or blind, willful ignorance. Much of the time, those seemed to amount to the same thing.
Finally—finally—the chains fell to the floor, and for the first few moments, Tal simply rubbed his wrists, noting the scars left by the manacles. Reminders, never to trust again.
Then he brought his hands up to his face, staring at his palms, at the lines of grime and filth and the cracked and broken nails. His fists clenched almost without thought, and the three night elves closest to him took a step back.
Tal smiled. “What are you waiting for?” he said in a soft, menacing tone. “My gear, and quickly.”
“We were unable to catch yourmount,” Vanadar said, with an expression of distaste. “But I’m sure your own feet will serve you just as well, considering that the human is… similarly afflicted.”
Now that the chains were gone, Tal found that such barbs seemed too small even to respond to. He was nearly free. The forest beckoned. He could ignore them for as long as it took.
From nearby, he caught brief snatches of a mocking conversation in elvish, calculating the odds of his success and deriding the pathetically weak figure of the human female. They might call him a wilding—devoid of loyalty, honor, and tradition—but at least he would never dream of such crass rudeness as insulting a guest in a language she could not understand. All night elves were fluent in the language of Abreian humans, so it wasn’t as if they had any excuse beyond their own cowardice.
With nothing better to do as he waited, Tal allowed his gaze to rest on the human for a moment. What could have driven her to come alone into the territory of a deadly and hostile people on the verge of war with her own?
He might have understood if she were a merchant or a mercenary. But her patched and tattered rags and lack of visible weaponry suggested she had come for some other purpose. Or perhaps it was the look in her eye—the look of one in whom desperation has finally outweighed fear. Something beyond these borders terrified her more than whatever might lurk in the forests of Dunmaren.
The thought curled his lip in a sudden surge of contempt. For all that they walked on two legs and laid claim to civilization, humans could be far more beastly than any forest creature. Someone had sent this soft and helpless child into a land of monsters…
Her gaze suddenly snapped to his and froze there, her thoughts written on her face as clearly as if penned in ink.
She knew him for the predator he was. Her entire body seemed poised for flight, though fear rooted her feet to the ground. But in her wide blue eyes, he read only the strength of her determination. Her pale skin—the color of an uncooked trout—was lightly flushed across her cheekbones, which in humans, indicated either embarrassment or exertion. But those cheeks were slightly sunken, and her form was slight, as if food were scarce wherever she came from…
But no. He did not care. Whatever had befallen the human was her own affair.
He could at least appreciate that she did not cower—she had that much pride, even if the state of her clothing clearly displayed her poverty. Her tremulous courage, along with that long thick braid of hair falling over her shoulder… It reminded him of Lani, even if the human’s hair was black instead of white.
The thought clenched around his heart, and Tal shoved it away, mentally rebuilding the icy walls that kept both rage and grief at bay. He would not think of his sister—not if he wanted to leave this place without losing control of his anger. There was now a chance to avenge her, and he intended to make the most of it.
Some nameless lackey entered the hall, arms full of a familiar jumble of items, and dropped the entire lot at Tal’s feet.
Despite their disdain, it appeared they had not thrown anything away. His elf-woven tunic, boots, traveling kit, and spelled steel blades—all of it was there. And most of it was far cleaner than he was.
But he would bathe later, Tal decided, hiding a wince as he donned the tunic over his filthy shirt. For now, he wanted nothing more than to be gone from this accursed place.
Gathering up the last of his gear, along with the pack he surmised held the promised supplies, Tal shot Vanadar one last contemptuous glance.
“Until I return, Regent. Perhaps you should grant Paendreth a warning. When my blade is at his throat, I would not have him whining that he is unprepared to die.”
Tal allowed his gaze to rake the hall, taking pleasure in every flinch, every eye that widened in momentary panic.
Then he turned on his heel and strode out. The night and the forest were calling. Almost as if they truly had a voice…
“…wait!”
No, that strident tone was actually the human. Chasing after him, like a yapping puppy after its mother.
Tal quickened his stride. In the space of only a few minutes, he would reach the outskirts of the settlement, and then he could simply outrun her. Her kind had no place in the night forests of Dunmaren. Even had the last of his patience not been burned to ash during the long months of his captivity, he refused to waste his time protecting yet another fragile creature that would only die the moment his back was turned. He’d spent years protecting Lani from the dangers of the world, and for what? If he’d allowed her to protect herself, perhaps her death would not now lie at his door.
Bursting through the doors of the convocation hall and into the night, he could have fallen to his knees and wept for the sweetness of it. Moonlight on his face, the breeze in his hair…