Page 15

The wind whipped around us, bitterly cold, as we made our way down the mountain trail the next morning. Tarrak was again taking the lead, and he had the sword packed away on his mount, while I had the battle-axe actually slung across my shoulders by means of a strap Tarrak had attached to it. It would better distribute the weight our stags had to carry if I took one of the weapons, and since I had no pack to put it in, wearing it was a better option. It was surprisingly lightweight, and it felt almost comforting to have it lying across my back. We were still deep in Dark Elf territory after all.

We came off the mountain trail and before I had enough time to draw a relieved breath, the air suddenly resounded with shouts. Soldiers streamed in a long column from the tree line and at their head was a tall, dark-haired Elf wearing a golden band around his forehead. It had to be the Dokkalfar king, looking angry and determined. He stopped within shouting distance of us and called out to Tarrak.

“Surrender yourselves, and we may give you an easy death.”

Tarrak put a hand on Violet’s head to stop him and keep me behind him. He barked out a laugh, his eyes wild and blazing. I’d seen this kind of reckless, bloodstained fury in the Elves before when they were spoiling for a fight, and I needed to stop this before it went any further.

“Is this how visitors to the Dokkalfar kingdom are greeted?” Tarrak called to the Dark king. “Your reputation as savage bastards precedes you correctly, then.”

The young king of the Dark Elves, whose surpassing beauty was plainly visible even at this distance, sneered at us.

“Visitors? More like desecrators. Grave robbers.”

“Watch your tongue, Dokkalfar, or I’ll cut it out.” Behind him, the king’s men shifted restlessly, wanting to attack but waiting for their king’s signal.

Instead, King Stefan laughed contemptuously. “I call that bold talk for a man in your position. Perhaps I’ll kill you slowly and cut your own smart tongue from your mouth and make you eat it.”

“You can try,” Tarrak said, sounding dangerous even though he hadn’t raised his voice. King Stefan’s face flushed with rage, on the verge of an attack, so I quickly threw off Tarrak’s hand and urged Violet to come alongside him.

“King Stefan, wait. Please. We aren’t grave robbers and haven’t touched any grave except for old King Gratin’s. We’re not thieves. I bargained with King Gratin himself for his Sword of Light and his Battle-Axe of Lebor.”

“You bargained with him? Ignorant human fool, Gratin has been dead for centuries.”

“I conjured up his spirit and he made this bargain. Freely made and freely accepted. The sword and the battle-axe are mine. I simply came to retrieve them.”

Stefan hesitated, looking me up and down in horror. “You conjured him. But you’re a human. I don’t believe you,” he finally said.

I pulled the gleaming battle-axe off my back and showed it to him. “It’s true, nonetheless.”

He glanced back and forth between me and Tarrak. “Are you both demons then? You conjured up the soul of King Gratin by Infernal means and forced him to tell you?”

“No. I made a bargain with him. That’s all! One he tried to cheat on by giving me a riddle to solve, but I did manage to solve it, and we found the weapons. They belong to me.”

The king raised up in his saddle and gestured to someone behind him. Tarrak and I both watched as Glorfindel rode slowly up to the front of the column to take his place beside King Stefan.

“I believe you’re acquainted with Prince Glorfindel.”

“Oh yes,” Tarrak said, “my treacherous intended consort. How are you today, Glorfindel?

“I’m fine,” he said, glaring at me, his eyes cold and full of contempt. “Though I can’t say the same for you. I can’t believe you actually found anything. Did you find the Sword of Light too?”

“As a matter of fact,” Tarrak said, drawing its gleaming length from the scabbard at his side, “I did.”

“I-I thought you put the sword in your packs,” I stammered. “I thought that was your own sword in the scabbard.”

He glanced over at me. “A sword this fine needs to be used.” Tarrak shifted his gaze to Stefan. “For its intended purpose.”

Stefan gazed back at him. “Is this the so-called invincible sword? Shall we put that to a test?”

Tarrak gave him a barbaric smile. “Why not? You should know my name before we fight though. I’m Tarrak, king of the Quendi Elves.” He jumped down from his stag and strode a few steps into the clearing and swept an exaggerated bow. “At your service.”

King Stefan glanced sharply over at Glorfindel, who did his best to ignore him. He looked surprised.

“The Quendi king?” Stefan said.

“As you see.”

I jumped off Violet’s back to take my place beside him, but he half-turned and held out his hand to stop me. “No, Sergey. Stay back. If I’m killed, take out as many of them as you can.” He glanced back at Glorfindel. “Use the magical battle-axe. Start with him.”

He looked up at Stefan and gestured toward me. “This is my Necromancer, Sergey. It was his brother that taught your uncle how to dance. He may do the same for you, if you ask him nicely.”

Stefan made a sound of rage and gave a sign to his soldiers. Two of them jumped from the backs of their mounts and charged Tarrak, but the fight was over so quickly I could scarcely believe it. Tarrak surged toward them, his sword arm lifted, and the Sword of Light’s golden blade flashed in the sun. The sword tip sank deep in the first man to reach Tarrak, and Tarrak hauled back, whirling to be ready for his next victim. His sword arm descended again, and another man fell to the ground. It had only been seconds since the attack began. Tarrak stepped back and turned, snarling, to face the Dark Elf king.

“And you? Will you face me next, or do you yield?”

The king’s mount shifted its feet, nervous at the smell of blood. It rolled its eyes and tried to shy away but King Stefan easily controlled it. He slid off the stag’s back, lifting a hand to pat its side before he came toward Tarrak with purpose, looking as unconcerned as if he were out for a Sunday stroll. He was brave—I had to give him that much, though I was still terrified for Tarrak. He was invincible, it seemed, yes. But if he killed this king here in front of this many of his soldiers? It would be suicide and there would be little chance of survival. I ran over to stand beside him, not caring if it made him angry. If he died, then I would too. It was as simple as that.

I raised my hand in the air as I ran, thinking of a spell I could cast to stop this, but King Stefan shot Glorfindel a sharp look. Glorfindel shouted, “ Lár! Pusta!” and I was suddenly frozen in mid-air, just like that stag had been the first time I met Glorfindel. Tarrak looked horrified and raised his weapon over his head, pointing it toward Glorfindel.

“Release him! Now!”

Glorfindel gave him a mean look and then raised his hand toward Tarrak and repeated his words, “ Lár! Pusta!”

But incredibly, this time nothing happened. The Sword of Light had kept Tarrak safe. Tarrak cried out, “You deceitful bastard,” and he raised his arm and leaped toward him, but Stefan made it to Glorfindel first, tackling him to the ground hard enough that he lay limp and white and still beneath the king, obviously knocked unconscious. Stefan stood then, glancing nervously at me—with Tarrak now back beside me, holding me in his arms—before shifting his gaze to Tarrak.

“I’ve seen him use that phrase often and it always works. Except it didn’t work on you. I believe you truly must be invincible with that sword in your hand.” He gave Tarrak an abbreviated bow. “I yield, sir. I may be many things, but I’m no fool. The sword belongs to you and your Necromancer. I grant you safe passage to our border.”

“But what has that bastard Fairy done to Sergey? Wake the Fairy up, and I’ll make him undo this before I kill him.”

“I’ve seen this before, as I said, and it will wear off in a few minutes. As for the Fairy...” He glanced back at Tarrak. “Leave him to me. I promise you he won’t bother you again. You have my word on that.”

Tarrak hesitated a long moment before he finally nodded. He took my face between his hands. “Sergey. Da’len , can you hear me?”

I was able to move my head very slightly, but it was enough to give him a nod, the least shifting of my head up and down. Reassured, he sighed and clasped me to him. “I told you to stay back,” he whispered in my ear. “What am I going to do with you?”

He stood then, sheathed his sword, and picked me up effortlessly in his arms. “We’ll take our leave.” He glanced back at the soldiers he’d just dispatched, but Stefan shook his head. “This is Glorfindel’s doing. He obviously knew it was you when we rode up, but he kept that information to himself. I’ll see you again, King Tarrak. Under better circumstances next time, I hope.”

He picked up Glorfindel’s body and threw it over the neck of his stag, swinging up in the saddle behind him. He inclined his head to Tarrak once again, and then he turned his mount and his men followed him back into the forest.