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Chapter fifteen

Sifa

A Foolish, Foolish Elf

I knew I wouldn’t be able to sleep, much as I need to.

I can’t yet smell the Nest, but my thoughts keep dredging up the scents I lived with for weeks. Some were constant—the reek of the dung they threw into the prisons; the sulfur of the brackish water that had accrued over centuries; the tang of blood, as one prisoner or another was returned from the ever-present torture sessions; the shit and piss we all lived in. I dread the stench more than anything, I think.

Odors always trigger my memories, my emotions, faster than any other sense.

Twice I drift off, only to jerk awake in the midst of one terror or another.

And then I feel, rather than see, Tindera. She’d disappeared overnight, perhaps returning to the Nest so she wouldn’t be missed. Now she’s returned. She moves slowly, cautiously, as though she doesn’t want to alarm me. Despite her bulk, she manages to creep closer to me without disturbing anyone else, even Fhord’s light snores continuing to echo through the chamber. When she gets close enough, she lays her head next to mine, letting me decide whether to touch her or not. I shift just enough to place her long snout against my back. And sleep finally takes me.

I can feel Fhord’s stare when I wake up. His gaze stirs the hairs on the back of my neck, drawing me from my dream of him. When I open my eyes, he’s watching me, an arm’s length between us. He looks down quickly, as if he’s loath to be discovered.

“Why are you watching me, Fhord?”

Then his gaze is on me again, his teeth appearing ever so briefly as the edges of his lips lift. “You’ve stolen my dragon from me, rabbit.”

Tindera’s still next to me, her snout giving me the comfort I needed to sleep. I can feel the side of her mouth lift, as if she’s smiling at Fhord’s remark.

“I see she doesn’t mind,” he adds after a moment. “Are you okay?”

“I am,” I assure him. Sitting, I reach over to stroke Tindera’s snout. “I wasn’t sleeping well, and she helped me.”

“She’s a very good backrest when she wants to be,” Fhord responds with a smile. “She likes you.”

The comfort that blossoms within me at his words surprises me. Suddenly, I’m back in Midgard, riding Lia’s dragon, Zaria. I feel protected, safer than I thought would be possible this close to the Nest.

“She’s a remarkable dragon.” I drag my hands along her snout, standing to reach up and scratch behind her horn, wondering if she’ll respond as the dragons on Midgard did.

I can’t suppress the grin when she does. A loud purr rumbles from her chest, echoing through our chamber. The horses shuffle their feet for a few seconds then settle down. The only sound in the chamber is Tindera’s hum as she leans into my hands, letting my nails find their way beneath feathers to the sensitive skin below.

“By the gods, she’s yours now for sure,” Fhord says with another smile. “My nails can’t do what yours can.”

Tindera grunts, staring at Fhord. After a moment he returns the grunt, the tips of his lips dropping down as his eyes flare. “You should go,” he says abruptly. He turns to me, his words clipped. “Tindera shouldn’t have come back to us. She needs to return to the Nest before she’s missed. We can’t take a chance they’ll connect her to what we’re going to do.”

I nod as I watch him, wondering what words they exchanged. But it doesn’t matter. We both know this odd relationship will end when we’re done. The less I know about him and Tindera, the better.

Pulling back my hands, I rub her snout one more time, then step back while Fhord gives her a quick pat and sends her on her way. I turn to our packs to pull out food while Fhord stores our blankets. Within twenty minutes of waking, we’ve eaten and are following Tindera into the cavern.

Fhord’s torch brightens enough of the cave to dredge up memories of my last time here. My heart is skipping in my chest, beating faster the farther we go, and I have to struggle to keep down the cold breakfast I ate before we left. Each step takes me deeper into my thoughts, my senses responding by amplifying every sound, sight, and smell. When I hear the water rushing through a tunnel above us, I know we’re close. And I’m not sure if I’ll be able to do this.

When they held me here before, I spent weeks wriggling into the thoughts of one of my captors, finally persuading him to release me and then Toffer. He’d been one of our crueler guards, so I had little regret for the price he’d pay when they found him. I had no idea how we’d escape, but Toffer’s a troll and can sense changes in cave systems. I’d traveled through enough hidden doors in caves in my worlds to find an escape where Toffer told me to search.

Still, it was the most terrifying journey of my life. I’m still not sure how we got out alive.

And now I’m willingly entering these same caves.

I am a foolish, foolish elf. I’d laugh at myself if my stomach wasn’t so twisted in knots.

When we stop for lunch, Fhord sits close enough for me to feel the warmth of his skin. I hate that he can sense my emotions, knows how terrified I am. The last thing I want is for him to see me as weak.

“I’m frightened,” I tell him as we finish eating, my voice matter-of-fact. “This place has a bad reputation. But I’ll be fine. Stop worrying about me.”

The torch throws shadows across his face, hiding his eyes. Still, I can see the corners of his lips tick up.

“Does that make you happy?” I demand.

“No, rabbit,” he responds as he turns to catch my gaze. “I’m impressed. I can feel your fear. And yet you go on.”

“We have to do this,” I remind him, my voice still cold. “I won’t let any jitters interfere.”

“I know,” he tells me, letting the smile crease his cheeks. “I trust you.”

“Good. That’ll make this easier.” I watch him for a moment, willing my heart to slow even more. “What happens next?” I ask at last.

“We’ll be at the entrance soon. Tindera will be close enough to sense if anyone is nearby.”

“And if it’s clear?”

“The horses will wait here while we go into the prison alone.”

“And this is where I come in? I’m going to traipse in there, find and free Thyra, and leave?”

“That’s the plan.” Now Fhord’s smile is forced. I can sense his unease too. “Bevin sent you for a reason,” he reminds me. “He said we’re the perfect team for this.”

The torch flickers all around us, throwing dancing shadows on the cavern’s walls, drawing me back into the weeks I spent here. My breathing is accelerating, and I can’t do anything about it.

“I don’t want to just sit here,” I explain as I stand abruptly. “We need to go and get this over with.” I throw our things into a sack, tie it to Hilde, and then start to pace. Fhord still hasn’t stood up. “What?” My tone is anxious.

“Rabbit, look at me.” He’s much calmer than he should be as he rises and places his hands on my cheeks. “We can do this.”

“I know.” I pause, inhaling deeply twice, and then three times. “I know,” I say again, my words a bit more measured.

He drops his arms to his sides but doesn’t step back. “Tindera will be in the same realm. Between the two of us, we should be able to sense if any guards or dragons are nearby.”

Sucking in one more breath, I force myself to nod. “Once we’re inside, I’ll find someone who can help us,” I respond. “It may take a while. If she’s being held deep in the prison, where they keep their most important captives, we might not be able to do this today. Those guards are well-trained and not as easily controlled as some others.” I pause, realizing I’ve said more than I should. “At least, that’s what I’ve heard,” I add after a moment.

“She’s not a high-value prisoner. Bevin got her status from someone who should know.”

Taking in one more calming breath, I nod. “I’m ready.”

Fhord steps away, and I feel the loss of his presence. It’s strange how quickly we’ve grown connected. He centers me, helps me find my calm.

He grunts once and leads us toward the entrance to the prisons. Sooner than I’d wanted, he’s reaching out a hand to wriggle a thin knife into an opening I might have missed to our right. He pauses when it clicks then starts to pull it slowly, I assume searching for any nearby guards. When it’s open no more than a hand’s length, he stops and waits.

And then it really hits me. All the emotions weaving through these caverns crash into me—fear and fury and desperation, searching for some respite from the agony that beats on them every minute of every hour of every day. I scrabble through my fluttering thoughts for the blanket I’d erected when I lived among them, a barrier between my horror and theirs. I need to keep my senses open and alert without absorbing their pain.

Slowing my breaths, I center myself, drawing on the lessons that carried me through more challenges than I can recall. I let my eyes search the cave around me, focusing on details I would otherwise have ignored: the burgundy that weaves through the rock, like a glass of wine spilled, running in rivulets across its surface; the mild scent of decay hiding beneath the mildew and musk, evidence that something alive has been here before; the slight drip of water nearby, maybe a pool leaching into the cavern below it, one drop at a time.

I can do this.

I will do this.

Finally, I focus on my surroundings again. Fhord’s pulled the door closed, leaving the barest gap—just enough to throw light in a narrow line on the other side of the tunnel. We’re both still and silent as a guard passes near enough to trigger my senses.

After another minute or more, Fhord touches my arm, drawing me from my inspection of the ceiling far above us. “It’s time,” he mouths. Opening the door just wide enough to allow us through, he leads me into the prison.

The calm that always precedes a challenge washes over me, just as it did when I finally found my escape from this place. I count my steps, expanding my psyche as I notice everything around me without letting the despair weigh me down. Twice, we disappear in shadows just in time to miss an approaching guard. I calm down even more, trusting in Fhord’s senses to keep us hidden and letting fear hone my focus.

When my probing thoughts find the guard that might help us, I almost laugh. It’s the same male who freed me all those years ago. I was sure he’d be dead, but he survived somehow. I wonder if his mind is as weak now as I left it when I escaped. Or if his punishment led to walls I won’t be able to surmount.

Placing my hand on Fhord’s arm, I draw him to a stop and gesture for him to stay. He nods, his eyes as dark as the forest at dusk, and I turn to stride into the cavern. When I’m far enough away to hide how I plan to retrieve Thyra, I fully free my mind from the chains that hold it in place, letting it wriggle out and into my mark. I’ll know soon enough if he’ll do my bidding.

I hate what I find in this ugly, cruel man. He’s worse now than he was then, his entire personality a cauldron of aggrievement and anger. They’d punished him mercilessly, but he survived. And then he clawed his way back into the ranks of the guards, although never trusted as much as he was then. These days, other prisoners suffer at his hands for my escape all those years ago.

But his brain still gives way to my push, opening a path for me to enter. I can use him again. And this time, I won’t leave him alive.

My memories of this guard come rushing back in, allowing me to start now in the same place I left him. Slowly, carefully, I find images of his commander, a male he both despises and fears. My thrall has had any resistance beaten out of him. He’ll follow this order without question. Then I create the memory that will direct him to free Thyra and bring her to me, dropping it into his thoughts.

He responds exactly as I’d hoped. The frustration at the unexpected order washes over him first. His loathing for every superior who barks commands at him starts as a rumble in his ears that grows into a roar, drawing his teeth into a tight clench as his jaws grind together. If he could kill them all, he would, dancing through their blood as it splashes all around him, decorating the floors and walls with his vengeance.

His survival instinct, though, is stronger. The time isn’t right yet. For now, he’s their drudge. For now.

Spinning, the guard stalks toward the prisoner he’s been told to move. Soon, I lose my connection with him, forced to trust that the memory I constructed will continue to propel his steps. And I wait.

My sense of time in these caves is no better now than it was all those years ago. Although I try to measure it, my count keeps getting lost in my search for the guard’s return. After a half-dozen stops and starts, I give up. It doesn’t matter. He’ll return or he won’t. We’ll succeed or we’ll fail. Nothing I can do now will change that.

I almost breathe a sigh of relief when I feel him return, stopping myself just in time. He’s even more angry than he was before, rankled by the impertinence of the male who guarded this prisoner. They don’t know who he is. What he’s capable of. Someday soon, he’s thinking, he’ll show them all.

But he’s brought Thyra with him. This has been easier than I could have hoped.

Until it’s not.

I sense someone else approaching and shrink farther into the shadows, stilling my breaths. This male doesn’t notice me as he stalks past, his mind elsewhere.

“Where are you taking her?” His voice is angry, impatient.

“Ivar commanded me to bring her to him. Fuck if I know why.”

“Nobody told me. She’s mine. Ivar can’t have her.” The lust that trickles through his thoughts threatens to pull up memories of my own time here, but I shove them down. I will not let those males harm me any more than they did.

My drudge wavers in his resolve, and I realize how lucky we are that they encountered each other here, instead of closer to the cages. I carefully bolster him, drawing up memories of Ivar’s temper and cruelty when he’s disobeyed. The effect is immediate.

“Ivar can do anything he wants,” my mark reminds the other guard. “He’s your drott just as he is mine.” He pauses before his next words, which erupt in an angry warning. “He’ll punish you, not me, if you stop me from bringing this prisoner to him.”

And now it’s the other guard’s turn to waver. He fears Ivar too. “Fine,” he spits out. “But you will return her to me. She’s mine.”

“I’ll do as Ivar commands. If he wants her returned, she will be.”

Neither speaks again as footsteps carry the second guard away from me. Moments later, Thyra appears.

She’s stumbling in the chains that hobble her steps, her arms barely strong enough to hold up the cuffs around her wrists. The Valkyrie that disappeared is now a wretch, broken and barely alive. I search for a spark in her eyes but find none.

And again, I have to smother the memories that threaten to overwhelm me. I looked so much like this when the fates let me find my escape.

I survived. She can too.

My thoughts spear out for another search of the cavern. When I’m convinced nobody else is near enough to interfere, I step forward. I can’t suppress my smile when the guard sees me. His eyes find mine and glare in an anger that’s been building for the last decade.

He takes a step forward, too focused on me to recognize the danger he’s in. And then my blade is in his throat, severing his vocal chords before he can utter a sound. He’d abandoned any chance of warning others—maybe saving himself—in the drive for vengeance that consumed him when he saw me. Idiot.

Part of me wants him to die more slowly, blood dripping from every inch of skin. My fingers itch as they wrap around a knife at my belt. Almost of its own accord, my mind is feeding his thoughts with images of the death I’d give him if I let myself. His eyes grow wide as a wicked grin splits my cheeks. When the smell of his shit spills out around us and his pants grow dark at the crotch, I sneer, expanding on the vision that's driving his terror.

But this is how he needs to die. Quietly and quickly. Much as I want it, I can’t let my craving for revenge take over with this guard. I embrace the calm I need to let my knife finish its job alone, relaxing as a sense of serenity enters through the soles of my feet and whispers up and through me. By the time his eyes are permanently open, I’m ready to let go of him and my urge to shred his skin the way they shredded mine.

Exhaling one last time, I turn to Thyra. Her eyes shimmer as peace seems to wash over her too. And then she collapses into the dirt just as Fhord turns a corner, his gaze landing on the dead guard.

“I had to kill him.” My words are a whisper. Anything louder would shatter the stillness Thyra and I need.

Fhord dips his chin once and bends to start rustling through the guard’s clothes, searching for the key that will unlock Thyra’s cuffs. Within a minute, he’s tossing them away, freeing her arms and legs.

I pull Thyra into my arms, wrapping myself around her. This is what I’d craved, almost more than food or sunlight, when Toffer and I escaped. For months after, we spent every night holding each other. Even now, when nightmares find one of us, we’ll escape our terror in the other’s arms.

Thyra’s breathing grows steadier as I hold her, the rhythm slowing as she finds comfort she probably relinquished weeks ago. When her eyes open, I’m grateful Bevin sent me here with Fhord. I needed this as much as her.

Now we just have to escape.