The Destroyer Book 3 (54 page)

Where the fuck was I?

Where was Iolarathe?

We had a daughter. The Elven elder was correct. Thousands of questions filled my mind and I tried to remember if I had ever gotten any answers from Iolarathe. But my memory was failing me again and I didn't even know if I had ever met our child. Did she look like me? The elder said she had my eyes. Did she have Iolarathe's hair? For a while I sat on my knees and thought about what had been; what could have been, and what I had probably never known.

A crow landed on my shoulder and startled me from my memories. How long had I been sitting here? I looked around and noticed that the sun had set and the sky was in the later stages of a dark purple dusk. More of the black birds had gathered on the bodies. Rocks and logs circled a fire pit with a lidded pot placed on the ashes. I breathed deeply and mixed the scent of death with the ashes of the fire and the algae from the pond nearby. I shivered and pulled more Earth into me.

The six bodies appeared to be a few days into decomposition. They were riddled with dozens of holes, a few had black fletched arrows sticking out where the bolts struck bone, but most looked to have passed through the bodies. What were they doing here and why did I wake up next to them?

A brave crow landed next to me and pecked at the face of one of the corpses as I crouched down to study the tattoos on their skin. My hand lashed out and crushed the creature's neck and half the bones in its body. The other birds circling the sky cried out in fear and then flew away into the night air, leaving me with the sounds of crickets and frogs that lingered in the dark pond. I looked at the body the now dead crow had tried to feast upon and recognized the man.

"Iarin," I said his name aloud as if I could somehow bring him back to life. It looked like a single arrow took the tall woodsman in the forehead and passed out the other side of his skull. His jaw was still frozen in a gasp of surprise but his eyes were closed. I sat again on the log and covered my face with my hands. The other bodies had tattoos of bears on their skin and carried an abundance of muscle. Iarin was no warrior, what was he doing in their company and who had killed them?

Had I killed them?

I leaned back on the log and scanned the campsite for a bow. I was a skilled archer, not as good as Alexia, but with the right weapon I could place an arrow into the eye of a deer or boar at three hundred yards. A quick count of the holes and arrows revealed math that didn't add up to my skill level. There was no way I could have put over seventy arrows into the group of six people while they sat so close together. It was obvious that they were caught by surprise and the attack came instantly, or someone would have run.

I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, and tried to think of my last current memory. My mind kept dancing back to Iolarathe's rescue and the plight of our daughter. I remembered Nia's camp in Fisherman's Gorge, and the walk and brief lunch I shared with Danor. Afterward, I spoke to Nadea and she attempted to talk me out of leaving.

Then my recollection stopped.

I sighed and lay on the log next to the bodies. Closing my eyes for that brief period of time caused me to feel tired. My back bumped against something and I realized I was wearing a backpack that I had not even felt because of its exceptionally comfortable leather straps.

I shrugged the pack off of my shoulders and pulled open the brass buckle, inside was a pile of soft sheepskin cloth wrapped around a globe. I pulled out the Ovule and wasn't surprised when the sphere glowed. It looked like thousands of yellow spider webs were trapped inside and the effort of their escape from the prison made each strand pulse as a firefly.

Like a punch to the stomach, I suddenly remembered the last few weeks.

I recalled leaving Nadea's camp as a prisoner of Isslata, the time I spent at the Elven camp outside the walls of Nia, the talks with Vernine, the meetings with the empress and her generals, the fight with Yillomar, and the negotiations I made with Telaxthe for her daughter's identity.

My eyes studied the bodies again and I remembered what caused their deaths. I couldn't risk going back with these O'Baarni to whatever ridiculous trial their Council required. I needed to be on this world working to rid it of Telaxthe and her brood. So the empress agreed to send Fehalda and some of her assassins after Kannath and me, as long as I agreed to tell her more of her daughter when I returned. Of course, my plan had been to look for an opportunity for Beltor and Jessmei to escape Fehalda's escort back to Nia. Then we would meet up with Nadea's army and flee Nia. In less than a year I could create a whole new army of my kind with Nadea's soldiers, and we would then be able to re-take Nia and end the Elven existence once and for all.

End the Elven existence.

The words echoed in my head. Did I even want that anymore? I thought about what Nadea had spoken of in her camp. She dreamed of governing a great and prosperous nation, of spending days with her people and nights in discussion with her father and me. How closely her dreams might have matched Shlara's: with our people prospering after the war. From my last memories, it seemed like they had created cities and some form of government. She would have wanted that.

Then I thought of Jessmei. The beautiful blonde princess had spoken to me about staying in Merrium, building a ranch and farm in the small village. Raising a family, growing old and more in love with each other as the days passed. Her dreams also closely matched Shlara's. My friend wanted a family with me and would be a wonderful wife and mother.

Did I really care about Elvens anymore?

I put the backpack on and searched the corpses as I debated. Perhaps the deeper question I should ask myself was if I ever cared in the first place, or if the goal of destroying the Elvens was just driven by Iolarathe killing my brother and father. If they had not died, would I have joined in a resistance movement or would I have happily lived my life out taking care of horses for the Elvens and making love to Iolarathe in the hay loft?

I didn't know the answer. Or perhaps I was afraid of the truth.

I knew that I loved Iolarathe, as sick as it was; I felt something for her the moment I first saw her. If I had forgiven her for killing my brother and father, I should also be able to forgive the Elven race for atrocities that had been committed lifetimes ago. But forgiveness did not mean they were entitled to come to this world, kill humans and take their homes. There must be a place they could inhabit peacefully. I had to convince them to go there, or raise an army and complete the task I had set out to do many years ago.

I did find a bow behind a traveling pack I recognized as Iarin's. The pull on the weapon was much too light, but it would work. His bag contained a few traveling provisions, such as spices, small game traps, and dried fruit. I took the food and a light blanket I found and placed them into the pack that had been on my back before searching the rest of the campsite. Kannath carried a mean looking axe made of grayish metal with engravings of bears on the bare steel. It was a one-headed variety with a wide blade extending out of the haft about a foot. The opposing side of the head ended in a straight point that would easily pierce armor and destroy bone. The handle was two-and-a-half feet long and wrapped in thick black leather. Its length would allow me to wield the axe with one or two hands. It had a simple leather harness that let the weapon loosely hang over my back alongside the pack opposite of Iarin's quiver full of arrows. The other warriors carried broad-bladed swords and curved antler handled daggers. I took two of the best balanced daggers and the shortest sword I could find. Then I tied the sheaths to Kannath's thick leather belt and wrapped the girdle around my thin waist.

We had traveled northwest of the capital, and Nadea's army was heading from the south since they had been turned away from Brilla. I didn't know how long I slept here at the campsite, but I guessed I would probably be able to catch up to Fehalda and her assassins before they reached the castle with Beltor and Jessmei.

I filled up a few water skins at the pond while I tried to recall the exact roads we took to get here. Then I washed my mouth out with the algae flavored water and spit out the taste of blood. My mouth felt a bit cleaner, but I couldn't shake the scent of my blood from my nose. I didn't feel injured, so I guessed that the scent would fade in a few minutes. Once finished, I stood up from the edge of the water and stared toward the southward road.

I was somewhat familiar with the land of Nia, having looked over maps with Paug and running northward after Jessmei. But when I chased Jessmei's kidnappers, we had traveled northeast. I knew there was a main road that traveled north out of the capital. Kannath and his now dead friends had taken me on it for a few short miles and then turned east to be closer to the coast. I imagined that if I just headed south as quick as I could I would catch up to Fehalda.

Fehalda.

I remembered her standing in front of me at the campsite. Was that last night? She was angry at me, but I didn't remember why. Her white skin had flared red and she drew her sword. I had looked into her eyes. They were black pools that seemed to pull me into their depths. My head started to hurt as I tried to remember what she said to me. Her arm pulled back. The swing had been good, she used her hips and just the right amount of arm, but no real speed was behind the attack. I attempted to move, but though her attack was slow, I couldn't seem to find the energy to dodge.

Had she knocked me unconscious? No. I would have overcome a concussion quickly and woken up in a few seconds. My kind healed so fast that even cutting off an arm or a leg wouldn't do more than hurt like hell. We could attach the old limb and it would start to work after a few seconds; if the limb was lost, a new one would grow back in less than half a day. We could only be killed by a severe brain injury or a beheading. If Fehalda had cut my head off, I wouldn't be standing here right now wondering what the fuck happened. I would be feeding the crows just like Kannath, Iarin, and the rest of their clansmen.

I took another deep breath and tried to ignore the scent of my blood. Then I began to jog past the pond up the crest of the hill to the main road. The dirt path was wide enough for two wagons and ran southeast toward the coast. I recalled sitting with Paug one dreary day in Castle Nia pouring over the maps in the library. If my memory was accurate, this was referred to as the Bay Crest Trail and was the quickest way to transport goods from the major port cities on the north side of Nia west without running through the capital.

My feet pounded into the dirt like a torrent of rain and I soon ran faster than a galloping horse. The weight of the axe threw me off a bit and I was experiencing a strong headwind that made my eyes water. The road seemed to stretch on for as far as I could see, across endless sloping hills of sagebrush and scattered oak trees. I closed my eyes and increased my running pace. The speed forced me to bend almost horizontal against the path so that the axe, quiver, and pack lay upon the middle of my back and I cut through the air easier. I knew the direction I ran and the sounds of my sandaled feet dancing across the dirt road bounced off of the ground, returning to my ears like a bat's screech.

If someone makes eye contact with me, I can prevent them from moving for a few seconds.

Fehalda's words pried into my brain and I saw her pull back her sword arm. I opened my eyes again and focused on the road, banishing the image of her from my mind. She must have hit me really fucking hard in the head to knock my memories from my conscious mind. I debated killing her with the axe, burning her with magic, shooting her with arrows, or even just bashing her beautiful white face in with my fists until there was nothing left but a red puddle. Then I remembered Nyarathe. Iolarathe's sister once saved my life and it was apparent that Fehalda shared a bloodline with the pale Elven. They practically looked like the same person. Fehalda hadn't killed me, so I didn't need to kill her.

Unless there was no other way to free Jessmei and Beltor.

I was moving as fast as I comfortably could now. My heart beat just below a full exertion and my legs had gained that warm comfortable sensation that slowly inched through my hips, stomach, and into my chest. The road blurred beneath me but I could keep the pace up all day as long as the road ran wide, straight, and even. From my memories, it was rare that we ever got to run like this. Sure, running was a large part of our training, but we did our sprints in forests, canyons, and hidden valleys far from Elven eyes. It was too dangerous for us to run as I did now, in open terrain, it would lead to capture or attack.

I laughed to myself and realized that the situation was still the same, if not riskier. I ran alone now, on a world with thousands of Elvens that would love to kill me. Perhaps I should be more cautious. Then again, if I didn't get to Jessmei before Fehalda returned her to Nia's capital I would have to deal with all of those thousands of Elvens instead of a few dozen. I gritted my teeth and pushed my run at a pace I could only keep for a few hours.

He won’t die. This is impossible. What do we do?

Gorbanni's voice repeated the question I had heard many months ago in the bowels of the caverns under Nia's dungeon. My stomach clenched and I felt the familiar nausea follow. I couldn't remember when he said that to me. Was it before I killed Shlara? Who was he speaking of? I saw Fehalda arch her arm back, but it wasn't her, it was Malek. Half his wolf shaped helm had been torn off and tears made clear trails down his dusty face. Most of his armor was smashed, dented, and covered with blood. He pulled back his sword arm and I could not move.