Elfhame (Skeleton Key) (11 page)

“I think so.” Despite her legs feeling like wilted stalks. “What’s going on? What do you mean by my ‘wellspring’? What—”

“I’ll tell you as we travel.”

His arm still about her, he turned them both. She took a step, and nearly fell. With an annoyed sound, Bran swept her up in his arms. It was becoming a habit of his, to cart her about like a sack of vegetables. Nevertheless, she did not have the strength to protest. This time.

“Lieth, my pack is at the edge of camp, there,” he said. “Be so kind as to fetch it.”

The other woman nodded and went to get Bran’s supplies.

He strode to where the horses were tied, and his tall black steed whickered at their arrival. Lieth stowed his pack in the saddlebags and bade them farewell. Soon enough they were mounted and on their way, Mara seated in front of Bran as before, his strong arm holding her in place. She tried to ignore the sharp claws at the ends of his fingers.

“Where are we going?” she asked. “Is it far?”

He did not answer immediately. She was coming to understand that he was comfortable with silence. Long silence. Still, she tried to curb her impatience and wait for his reply.

“We are going to the Hawthorne Court,” he finally said. “It is not too far a distance.”

“By court do you mean something like a castle, where your rulers dwell?” She must know, though she dreaded the answer.

“Yes. Something like.”

Why did he always answer quickly when the answer was unpleasant? She grimaced, glad he couldn’t see her face. It seemed she was to meet the Dark Elf nobility after all.

“Does the king live there?” she asked.

His chest vibrated with a short, mirthless laugh. “We have no king, not in the way of mortals. There are seven courts, each governed by a Lord or Lady. They meet in council when necessary, but mostly the courts are content to rule themselves without interference from their neighbors.”

It did not sound like an arrangement that would work in her world. “Do you not fight among yourselves?”

“No.” His arm around her tightened. “There are plenty of outside threats to occupy us.”

“Like those creatures.”

“The Void, yes. And other things.”

“Your world doesn’t seem particularly pleasant,” she said. “Does the sun ever shine here?”

“We do not have a fiery orb in the sky. The brightmoon casts plenty of light. And, in its defense, Elfhame currently is not at its best.” His voice had turned grim. “But once the Void is defeated, you’ll see how lovely your new homeland is.”

“What?” Panic swept through her. She turned to look at him and nearly fell off the horse, staying on only by grabbing his linen shirt. “My new
homeland
? Are you saying I’m trapped here?”

He pulled the horse to a stop, and cocked his head at her. “It is not so bad.”

“How would
you
like to be ripped away from your home and family, from everything you’ve ever known?” She let go of the silky fabric of his shirt, and pushed hard against his chest. “Put me down this instant.”

Still holding her, he slid off his mount, then set her gently on her feet. She took a step away from him and balled her hands into fists, wanting to strike him, wanting to strike the entire twilight world of Elfhame.

“I don’t belong here,” she said fiercely.

He folded his arms. “It is your fate.”

“It is no such thing.”

She wanted to go home, to a sunlit world filled with the scent of baking bread and the good-humored teasing of her siblings. The thought of being trapped in this shadowy place, menaced by horrible creatures for the rest of her life, was unbearable.

“Since the day I was born,” he said, “I’ve known that a mortal woman would come through the doorway into Elfhame. It is the prophecy.”

“That’s all very well for you,” She ground her boot heels into the soil. “I didn’t grow up surrounded by magical forces, and I don’t believe in your so-called prophecy. Can’t you send me home?”

“No.” His expression was hard.

“Then what good are those powers you like to fling about?”

“I remind you they’ve saved your life twice. And you have newly awakened magic of your own—magic that does not belong in the human world. Magic that can help us fight the Void and save Elfhame.”

“I don’t care.” She crossed her arms, mirroring his stance. “I won’t use it, not if it means I can’t ever go home.”

The wind brushed the tall grasses around them and sent silver shadows dancing through a nearby grove of trees.

“You have no choice.” He stepped forward and took her shoulders. “You cannot fight fate.”

His hands were warm, and he smelled faintly of some exotic spice—cloves, or sandalwood. But those things didn’t matter.

Mara narrowed her eyes. Her stubbornness was her most exasperating quality, according to her mother. Well, she had every intention of putting it to full use.

“If you can’t send me home, I’ll find someone at the Hawthorne Court who will.”

His lips flattened in disapproval. “I very much doubt that. I’m the strongest magic user in the land.”

“But you’ve never gone through the doorway between our worlds. I have.” A wild hope ran through her. “Take me there right now—the place where the door stands.”

He shook his head, one of his thin, dark braids brushing his angular cheek. “It’s too dangerous.”

She twisted her shoulders, and he dropped his hands, freeing her from the warmth of his grasp.

“You said you need my magic to help save Elfhame?” she asked.

He did not answer. Secrets swirled in his violet eyes.

“Well?” she demanded. “Isn’t that what your so-called prophecy says?”

“Something akin to it,” he said. “Your presence is essential to saving our world from the Void.”

“Then I’ll help you—but once the Void is defeated, you must promise to help me return home. To the mortal world.”

He turned the silver bracelet on his wrist back and forth, the harsh planes of his face unreadable. “I do not know what you’re accustomed to among humans, but in Elfhame we do not give promises lightly.”

“I’ll keep my word.” She lifted her chin, determined that he believe her. “If I tell you I’ll help, then I will. I’ll even learn to use whatever this new power is, if I have to.”

His lips twisted slightly, as though he tasted something sour. “It is not your side of the bargain I am concerned about.”

It took a moment for her to catch his meaning.

“So you
won’t
try to help me get me back home?” It felt like a betrayal, though she had no real reason to think of this forbidding warrior as her ally.

“It is not a matter of what I can and cannot do,” he said. “There are other elements in play.”

She folded her arms. “Then why should I help you?”

His eyes flared. “If you do not, you will perish along with Elfhame.”

His words rang with truth. The Dark Elves were hard-pressed, from what she had seen.

And she was somehow bound up in their future, whether she wanted to be or not. There was no winning this argument—and she was no closer to finding a way home. Defeat wrapped around her like a clammy cloak.

“Come,” he said. “When we reach the Hawthorne Court, matters will be made clear.”

B
ran mounted Fuin and settled Mara in front of him once more. She sat stiffly, and he could read her anger and unhappiness in the set of her shoulders.

He let out a soundless sigh. If only they had more time, so that he might ease her into his world and better prepare her for what was to come. But the Void was relentless, and the prophecy must be fulfilled.

Still, he had a little sympathy. He’d grown up with the prophecy woven into the fabric of his life. For her, the revelation of her unexpected magic—and her destiny—must be quite unsettling.

Perhaps that was why he hadn’t yet told her about the wedding.

Her magic had come as a surprise to him as well, but a welcome one. He had never tried to second-guess his fate, but he had sometimes wondered how a mortal woman could possibly be so important to the Dark Elves’ future. Now he knew.

And soon, Mara would too.

Once she accustomed herself to her role in Elfhame’s future, he had no doubt she would do what needed to be done. After all, she was the woman of the prophecy.

Fuin bore them through glades washed with the radiance of the brightmoon and past a silvery lake where glimglows danced with their reflections. The moon was sinking low in the sky when she finally spoke.

“What is this wellspring of magic that I supposedly have?”

He considered for a moment how best to explain it to her, relieved that she’d softened enough to lean against him. Or maybe she was simply too tired to care.

“Every Dark Elf has magic within them, in differing amounts,” he said. “Some can perform only basic tasks—creating light and illusions, moving small objects, and rudimentary forms of offensive and defensive magic.”

She let out a short, weary laugh. “That sounds impressive enough to me. But I’m not a Dark Elf. Why would I have any of your powers?”

Because it is your fate
, he almost said, then thought better of it.

“You know that our people intermingled freely, centuries ago?”

“So the legends say. I suppose it’s true. After all, there
is
a door between our worlds. Why did you leave and lock it behind you?”

“Dark Elves were no longer welcome among your kind,” he said. “It would have been foolish to stay and fight for a place—not when we had no great stake in the doings of mortals, and no real benefit to remaining in your world.”

“So you just took your magic and left.”

“Not all of it, clearly. Some humans carry the blood of my ancestors. Like yourself.”

“I’ve never done anything the least bit out of the ordinary back home,” she said. “And it’s not for lack of wanting.”

“Then you have a latent power that only awoke when you entered Elfhame.”

He did not mention that it was shockingly strong. Not as powerful as his own, but impressive for someone with so much mortal blood.

Of course, fate had arranged it so. Clearly her newfound powers were part of the key to saving his land. They must marry as soon as possible, then return to the front and defeat the Void once and for all.

“How do I learn to use this new magic of mine?” she asked. “And how long does it take to master?”

“I will teach you,” he said. “As to how long? Dark Elf children are tutored for at least three years as they develop their powers and hone their skills.”

“Three
years
?” She sounded aghast at the prospect. “That’s far too long.”

“I agree.” At best, they had only a handful of days. Her appearance in Elfhame heralded the beginning of the end. “We will begin your training now.”

“Now?” She twisted around and glanced up at him. “While riding?”

“I will not let you fall. Close your eyes and reach deep within yourself. Remember the feeling of your magic unlocking, and see if you can reach it again.”

With her pressed against him, he could sense the warm glow of her wellspring—but could she?

“Now,” he said, “lift your hand and imagine a small ball of light hovering above your palm.”

She dutifully raised her hand, palm open. Nothing happened.

“Feel your power, waiting for you to call upon it,” he said.

“I don’t feel anything,” she said, frustration clear in her voice.

“You must try.” It was essential she be able to harness her power before they returned to the battle.

She blew out a sharp breath and splayed her hand wide. No ball of foxfire materialized to dance above her palm.

“It’s not working,” she said.

Bran pushed away his disappointment. It was a temporary setback—but fate had brought her to Elfhame. Surely she would be able to access her powers with a little more training.

“We will try again later,” he said.

“I thought we didn’t have any time to waste.” She dropped her arm to her side.