The Destroyer Book 3 (35 page)

She wore a hooded cloak that hid most of her features. Her fingertips lightly stroked my face and I was reminded of the countless times she touched me while we made love. This touch was different. It was exploratory and diagnostic, not affectionate.

"No. I am not Iolarathe." She pulled off her hood and my vision cleared. She was Elven, with pale smooth skin and hair that was as white as fresh snow. I recognized her, but could not recall why. All of them seemed to look the same to me. All of them except for Iolarathe. "Can you stand?" she asked.

I sat up carefully. My broken arm had healed and I stared at the offered hand for a few seconds before accepting it and her help getting to my feet. On the ground, the corpses of Thayer’s three warriors had bathed the salty streets in red. The Elven woman had decapitated them, preventing them from healing. She still held her long sword, but when she saw I was coherent she sheathed it in a smooth, elegant motion.

"Come with me, Kaiyer." She pulled on my hand and led me through the alleys. I heard people screaming about the fires, the death, and the chaos I had caused in the city. I ran after the woman and tried to remember how I knew her.

I followed her north through the streets. She knew them well and ducked between buildings to avoid the throngs of people who took to the muddy roads to gawk at the destruction I had wrought. After a few miles, we reached the cliffs above the town.

The homes here were finely made. They were large and built with expertly cut and finished stone and had yards with small gardens. She stopped running at the largest of the homes, and we jumped the ten-foot brick wall that enclosed the perimeter of the property. She opened the thick wood door closest to the garden. The garden was fresh with the scent of tomatoes, onions, thyme, rosemary, and dill. I inhaled deeply and the scent brought back memories of long nights spent by a fire with Entas during the inception of our army.

The door I walked through led to one of the nicest kitchens I had ever seen. It was thirty feet wide and forty feet long. The floor was smooth green stone and the counters, shelves, and cabinets were constructed of dark cherry wood. On the north side of the room a massive brick oven squatted next to an iron stove. Various pots of liquid bubbled on top of the stove. Strong scents of tomato, basil, garlic, and cream kissed my nose. My stomach grumbled, though I had eaten the fish stew earlier.

A thin human male stood at a wood counter in the center of the room, chopping a mountain of vegetables with almost military precision. An Elven male, his long bronze hair tied up in an elaborate netting, stirred the cooking pots of liquid and checked the contents of the oven. They both turned to look when we entered, but neither seemed surprised.

"Wipe your feet!" my rescuer commanded. There was a low shelf by the door holding several pairs of shoes, boots, and sandals. The white-haired Elven picked up a brush that hung from a hook on the wall, scraped the salt from her boots, and then took them off to expose gray specked wool socks. I followed her example with a spare brush hanging from the other wall and removed my shoes. Then she led me through the kitchen into what had once been a large dining room but now looked like a cartographer's fantasy.

Maps covered almost every inch of the wall and the half dozen tables set up in the room. A stone fireplace produced a small flame that served as warmth and light for the two Elven women and old human male who studied the maps and loose papers intently. As we entered the room the three glanced up in surprise and hastily sat up straight in their chairs. The women were probably only girls in the Elven sense and they looked almost identical. Long white hair and dark eyes, just like the woman who had saved me.

"Leave us," my rescuer commanded. The girls dashed from the table so quickly that the scraps of paper fell onto the floor and scattered like a flock of doves. A few wooden easels were turned away from me, but the Elven children's mad scramble out of the room toppled two of them over and spilled their canvas panels to the ground. The old human chuckled and got out of his chair with a slow stutter of thin bones and brittle tendons. There was a cane by his side that he leaned on heavily when he shifted across the jade-colored stone after the girls. As he walked past me he smiled and nodded in respect. Something about the movement and the sincerity behind his expression made me instantly like him.

"Sit." She pointed to a set of chairs at the table farthest from the kitchen. I nodded and made my way to it, choosing the chair that put my back at the wall. She sat opposite me and casually shifted the maps into a pile that she deposited on another table. Before she could scoop all of them up I realized that they were logistical locations of what I assumed to be Elven forces.

"Planning a counterattack?" She smirked and leaned back in her chair to study me. I saw my reflection in the black depths of her eyes.

"You are still intimidating. Even without your armor.”

"You were at the battle." She was one of Iolarathe's generals. She had been on the horse behind her when they asked to meet with me. I remembered that she had worn a mask with a black tree on one side and a red star on the other.

"Yes," she said softly and her face contorted into pain. I knew the look from all the Elvens I had injured before killing them. The door behind her opened and the Elven cook entered carrying a massive tray on his thin shoulders. He laid the platter down on the table between us. There were four covered bowls along with a tan loaf of tangy sourdough bread and a dish of orange honey. A large decanter of white wine accompanied two slender glasses. Without prompting, the Elven poured the liquid into each glass.

"Thank you," my hostess said to the man. He bowed to her and then me before leaving.

"Why are you here?" she asked once the man exited. He could still hear us, in fact, every Elven in this house could hear us. I could easily hear footfalls from the other rooms, hushed whispers about me, and random pangs of kitchen work.

"I could ask you the same question." I raised the glass of wine to my lips and was surprised at its peach sweetness.

"We are surviving." She gestured to the bowl in front of me and opened her own to reveal the tomato soup that had been cooking over the fire. She picked up a spoon and sipped the soup. Her eyes stayed on me the whole time. "Why are you here?"

I sighed and uncovered my soup. I grabbed the spoon and took a careful smell before sipping it. The stew I ate at the Lizard Breath's Inn had been delicious, but this was almost unbelievable. Hidden in the tomato soup were lumps of potato and cuts of bacon that helped offset the sweetness that the red fruit gave to the broth. There was a hint of sourness to the flavor that I guessed came with a gentle mixture of goat's cream. The earlier meal of stew had not really satisfied me, but I predicted that the soup and bread would be satiating.

Her teeth ground together and I tore my attention away from the meal to look back at the white-haired Elven.

"I am trying to find her," I said with a shrug.

"Why?" She stirred her soup but didn't break eye contact with me.

"She ran," I paused and set down the spoon. Then I took a sip of wine to clean my throat before continuing. "I told her I would follow her to the base of the Northern Mountains. I was delayed by a few months and when I finally got there she was long gone."

The woman nodded and reached for her spoon. She took her eyes off me and concentrated on eating for a few minutes. I finished the tomato-potato soup and cleaned the bowl with a chunk of the bread. It tasted as tart as it looked and smelled. The second bowl was peppered grilled fish over a green, moss-like vegetable. A first bite confirmed my suspicions, it tasted as good as the soup.

"Thank you for the food." It had been a long time since I thanked an Elven for anything. I remembered that Thayer and our group of human soldiers had been required to thank the asshole that trained and tortured us.

The woman grunted and downed the rest of her wine in a long gulp.

"Why did you save me?" I glanced at the maps on the closest table. It was of the entire continent. Red circles looked to be troop placement and there were a few score of marks by what I knew were now major settlements for humans. I also saw half a dozen green circles in parts of the wilderness that I knew were far from any civilization.

"She thinks you are dead."

"What?"

"My sister. She thinks you were killed by your people. She knows someone is following her and she believes it is a hunting squad from Shlara or Alexia's army."

"Your sister?" Both pieces of information surprised me. I hadn't guessed that Iolarathe thought I was dead and I never knew she had a sibling. I thought she was the only child of the chieftain, which was why she held so much power in the tribe.

"Yes." Her gaze was emotionless but my mind continued to spin.

"I never saw you in her stables. I never heard of you. What is your name?"

"Nyarathe is my name. We shared mothers but not fathers. I am junior to Iolarathe and our mother was the chieftain of the Jientalist tribe." I nodded as the pieces fell into place in my mind. Alexia had handled most of the interrogations of Elven prisoners and I had heard the name Nyarathe several times. Her forces were the Elven's equivalent of Alexia's troops: light infantry and scouts. The Jientalist tribe was much larger than the Laxile tribe and their lands sat a few months’ ride away.

"It wasn't common knowledge amongst the Laxile tribe," she continued as I nodded to her statements. Their skin was the same shade of alabaster and I noticed other resemblances now that I knew. Their ears had the same shape, as did her eyes and mouth. I found myself staring at her lips and I had to tear myself away and focus on the remaining part of the meal.

"Where is she?" I finally asked.

"Not here." Nyarathe almost sneered but seemed to hold back her bubbling emotion. For a half second I thought about reaching across the table, grabbing onto her slender throat or long white hair, and then smashing her face against the wooden floor of the room until she gave me the answer. I would kill her afterward, and then destroy every other Elven in this house before I left.

I sighed and dropped my fork into the bowl of half-eaten salad. Then I leaned back and rubbed my eyes in an effort to push away the hate, the pain, the frustration. The Elven who sat across the table from me was sister to the woman I loved. She had just saved my life.

I had done enough to the Elvens. I had avenged my father and brother's deaths. Then I had freed my kind. Nyarathe's people were nothing but mice scurrying around the cellar in fear of the O'Baarni. There was no reason for me to continue with my eradication. I just wanted to find Iolarathe and live the rest of my life with her.

"Can you tell me where I can find her, please?" Nyarathe had saved me for a reason. She had to have enormous hatred and fear of me, yet she had brought me back to her home, endangering herself and her children.

"Perhaps." Nyarathe smiled and took another small spoonful of her soup. It was the first glimpse of emotion I had seen from her.

"I get the feeling you didn't save me for your sister's sake."

"Correct." I heard movement upstairs. A few footfalls and then a short hissing whisper that sounded like it could be one of the girls. I focused on listening for a few seconds and found the quick heartbeats of the two girls, the slow beat of the old man, the human and Elven in the kitchen, and then another five Elvens in various rooms. The thought of so many of them around me made me uneasy.

"What do you want?" I finished the rest of my fish and pushed away the bowl.

"A favor for a favor." The white-haired woman smirked for a second and the expression reminded me too much of her sister. "You know of Jespuier?" I nodded. It was a land to the northwest, some four thousand miles away. "There is a settlement of our kind west of there, nestled between the Two Forked River and the Moon Mountain range. It will be easy for you to find once you know where to look."

"Why?" I asked, unable to hide the annoyance from my voice. If I could fly as a crow it would take me months to get there. But I would have to hunt, evade detection, and cross half a dozen mountain ranges. It would be a tough journey that would take time away from my main objective for at least half a year.

"I need you to take them written orders and supplies. Once you complete the task, they will tell you where Iolarathe is."

"Was she not just here?" I thought I was on her tail. Maybe a few weeks behind her. I felt frustration rising in my stomach and my head started to hurt.

"It is a fair trade, no?" Nyarathe sat back and folded her arms.

"Answer my question!" I hissed through my teeth.

"She is en route to them now. Perhaps you can catch her if you move quickly enough." She smiled and I couldn't tell if she was lying. It was easy with humans, our pulse or breathing changed. Elven hearts had a different cadence than ours and the beats never seemed to reveal anything. I felt my mood swing past the point of no return and I stopped thinking clearly.

"Was she not just here?" I slammed my fist on the table and the legs shattered into dozens of pieces. The thick piece of wood buckled and crashed to the floor. The papers, flatware, glasses, and the remains of our meal scattered on the floor in a symphonic dissonance of surprise.

"You fucking idiot. It will take us a day to sort through this now before you can--" I cut off her voice abruptly with my right hand. It hooked around her throat, cradled her chin, and then supported her body when I slammed it into the wooden wall by the stairs. Nyarathe had been so calm throughout this whole conversation, but I knew the look of terror in their eyes. She now remembered who she had invited into her home.