He lunged upward, surprising them, and rammed a fist into one’s stomach. The elf grunted and doubled over. Jev shoved him toward his comrade.
They might have recovered and put their superior agility to use, but Tames pursued the tactic Jev had rejected. He lunged past Lornysh, almost knocking him over, and flung himself into the ambassador. On the stairs, even the agile elf couldn’t evade him. He stumbled back into the other two elves who were trying to capture Jev.
Jev blocked a grasp and landed another punch, silently thanking Tames for jostling them and distracting them. Fortunately, they did not appear to be some of the Taziir’s elite fighters, and they must have had orders not to pull bladed weapons on zyndar intruders. Thank the founders for that. Jev held his own with them, even connecting solidly with an uppercut that knocked one to his ass.
Instead of pressing the advantage, he whirled and sprinted down the stairs, his original mission in mind. He feared it was too late, that Yilnesh had been given far more time than he needed to escape the compound. And Jev hadn’t the foggiest idea where he would go once he left.
Running so fast he tripped twice, Jev made it to the bottom floor. As he sprinted for the door, the air in front of it flashed with dozens of tiny yellow motes. Jev lunged for it, but he crashed into some invisible barrier.
He cursed and yelled, “Lornysh!”
A cry of pain and rage came from above. The motes disappeared.
Jev yanked the door open and sprang out into air choked with smoke. Flames from a dozen fires lit the night, and wood snapped and crackled, half of the garden on fire. The realization that he would get in trouble for laying waste to the politically designated sanctuary of another race passed through his mind. None of this would be worth it if he couldn’t catch the elf and save Targyon.
“I’ll get you, you bastard,” Jev growled and sprinted down the path.
The open gate came into sight. Had the elf already exited it?
A huge dark figure leaped out of the trees and onto the path ahead of Jev. The creature.
21
Zenia, Rhi, and Garlok rode up to the walled compound, flames visible in the canopies of the trees and shouts echoing through the open gate. Garlok sprang from his horse’s back, not pausing to tie the animal anywhere, and ran through the gate. Zenia, not certain if a full-blown battle was underway inside, stopped several yards away and gripped her dragon tear. It was the closest thing to a weapon she had with her, but more than that, she hoped it would tell her if their enemy was inside.
She was aware of Rhi sliding off behind her, bo in hand, and jogging to the gate, but Zenia focused on the gem while picturing the spiky-haired elf in her mind.
“Where is he?” she murmured.
The dragon tear vibrated against her palm and drew her awareness away from the gate and toward a portion of the wall closer to the intersection they had just passed. The fires burning in the garden provided more light than normal, and Zenia gasped when she spotted a hooded figure crouching atop the wall. It—he sprang down to the street.
“Stop!” Zenia cried as the elf turned to run up an alley. She drew upon the dragon tear, just as she would have done with her old gem, adding its power to her voice.
The elf halted so abruptly, he almost pitched to the cobblestones.
Zenia wheeled her horse about and raced toward him, afraid the magic would wear off quickly, that his innate elven powers would allow him to overcome it.
The elf recovered and spun to face her. His hood had fallen to his shoulders, revealing his spiky brown hair and pale, icy eyes that bored into her with hatred.
He lifted an arm and threw something at her.
Anticipating some vial of acid, Zenia willed the dragon tear to protect her.
The vial flashed and exploded in the air several yards away, a boom ringing out as smoke flooded the street. Her horse shrieked in alarm and reared onto its hind legs. Zenia pitched backward before she could tighten her grip on the reins.
As she tumbled off the horse, she tried to twist in the air to land on her feet. But the ground came too quickly. She cringed, expecting to strike shoulder-first. Something cushioned her, and her shoulder stopped a foot from the cobblestones. For a second, she hung sideways in the air above the street.
A surge of indignation flared in her chest—no, that came from the dragon tear. The elf was getting away—and the gem didn’t like that.
Zenia scrambled to her feet, and they touched down on the cobblestones. But only for an instant. Something propelled her from behind, and she found herself running through the smoke at three times her normal speed.
She came out of the haze in time to see the elf darting into an alley. She raced after him, wildly out of control, fearing she would carom off the whitewashed walls.
“Stop!” she yelled again.
The elf had been about to race out of the alley on the far side, but once again, he lurched, frozen for a second. It was enough for Zenia to catch up to him. And barrel into him. She couldn’t stop herself in time, and they crashed to the hard cobblestones together.
Her enhanced speed startled the elf, but he recovered immediately, rising to one knee and twisting toward her. He punched her in the face, and she gasped as pain exploded in her cheek. The dragon tear might have shielded her as she fell from the horse, but she’d let her concentration lapse. She tried to channel it once again, not just to defend herself this time, but to attack. She couldn’t let the bastard escape into the city, or Targyon might be lost to them forever.
Zenia tucked her chin to protect her throat as the elf reached for it, and she pummeled him with punches. It had been months since she’d grappled with Rhi on the practice mat, but she tried to pretend she faced no more dangerous a foe than a sparring partner in the temple.
The agile elf should have had the advantage and should have flung her away—or knocked her out with a well-placed blow—but energy from the dragon tear flowed into her limbs. Zenia attacked with punches far faster and more powerful than usual. Soon, the elf jerked his arms up, protecting his head. She rained blows onto his abdomen and sides.
“I surrender!” the elf cried in accented Korvish.
The dragon tear exuded glee as well as energy, some strange satisfaction at pummeling an elf, and Zenia struggled to gain control, struggled to stop hitting her foe. Fear coursed through her as her fists continued to land against her wishes. Her knuckles ached, bruises blossoming, and the elf did his best to curl into a ball and ward her off.
Stop, she silently ordered the gem, throwing all of her will into the command.
She sensed a reluctance from the dragon tear, but her fists slowed, and she regained control of her body. She knelt back from the elf, her breaths ragged. Blood smeared her throbbing knuckles. His or hers? Both?
The elf didn’t move. He emitted faint whimpers.
Zenia swallowed and rose to her feet, her legs shaky. The dragon tear had slipped free from her dress, and it glowed blue on her chest.
Prisoner.
Zenia didn’t know if the thought was hers or came from the gem, but she nodded and grabbed the elf’s arm. “Get up.”
She hadn’t intended to put magic behind the command this time, but blue light flowed from the gem and wrapped around her prisoner in concentric tendrils. The elf rose to his feet. Under his own power? She didn’t think so. His eyes were glazed, and he barely appeared conscious.
Zenia looked down at her chest. “You’re a lot more powerful than my old dragon tear,” she murmured.
More than that, it seemed capable of far more than she’d ever heard of dragon tears doing. Targyon ought to have claimed it for himself and learned how to use it instead of giving it to her. She wasn’t…
No, she decided. She was worthy. She would learn to master it, and she would use it well.
A scream came from the direction of the tower. A man’s scream? Jev?
“Let’s go,” she said, trying for a brusque tone and not to let any worry show, not to her pri
soner.
Though she wanted to leave him there and sprint for the front gate to check on Jev, Zenia gripped the elf’s arm firmly and marched him toward the tower.
The creature reared up on its back legs, raising its hairy arms high, claws gleaming in the light of the fires dancing in the trees. One huge paw swiped toward Jev’s head.
He flung himself backward, rolled, and came up on one knee, facing the creature. As it sprang after him, he fired his pistol straight at its black barrel chest.
It did not slow down. Its yellow eyes did not even show pain. They seemed to glow with some unearthly, otherworldly hunger.
Jev scrambled off the path and behind a tree. As it lunged after him, he fired at one of those yellow eyes, hoping they would be a more vulnerable target. But the creature dipped its head as it charged at him, and the bullet struck it in the skull. Again, not hurting it.
The creature slammed into Jev’s tree with a massive shoulder. Jev leaped back into thick brush, and leaves and twigs rained down on him.
“There it is!” someone cried.
People with torches and clubs ran into view on the path, some shouting and waving uselessly, a few braver ones jumping in to strike the creature. Their efforts were equally useless.
Jev backed farther into the brush. He held his pistol ready to fire but waited, wanting a clear view of the creature’s eyes. It shoved over a sapling, tearing the thing from its roots as it pushed closer to Jev. He darted behind two thick trees, hoping his monstrous foe wouldn’t be able to knock them over easily.
Something brushed Jev’s shoulder. He gasped and jerked to the side, envisioning some other creature poised to attack him.
But Lornysh stepped up beside him, his bow in hand. “Greetings, Jev.”
“Greetings. Did you finish your meeting with the ambassador?”
“We were at an impasse.” Lornysh fired an arrow.
It pierced the creature’s hairy black throat, and finally, it reared back and yowled in pain.
“Your arrows work better than my bullets?” Jev complained. “How is that possible?”
As the creature landed, its head swung toward them, its eyes blazing with fury. For a split second, its head was still, those eyes a perfect target. Jev fired. This time, his bullet successfully slammed into one of those yellow orbs.
The creature screamed.
Finally.
“No,” Lornysh said, “but the throat of the zarl has thinner skin than elsewhere on its body.”
The creature roared and clawed at its face, ignoring the people jumping in to thump its legs with their makeshift clubs. Founders, that man from the tavern still had a broken piece of chair leg.
The creature must have had enough because it sprang into the brush on the far side of the path. Howling and rattling the trees, it left a trail of broken foliage as it disappeared into the undergrowth.
“Let it go,” Jev yelled when a few of his enthusiastic recruits turned to follow it.
“Get off elven land,” came a booming cry from the direction of the front door.
“Care to resume your chat with the ambassador?” Jev whispered to Lornysh, then pointed to his right, in the direction of the front gate. He still needed to try and catch the renegade elf. By now, he feared it would be too late.
“Go,” Lornysh said. “I’ll do my best to distract him again.”
Jev pushed through the brush, angling to come out near the gate. But going through the undergrowth was harder than walking along the path, and when he came out of the trees near the gate, he groaned. The ambassador stood in front of him, glowering straight at him. The gate was open, but he blocked it.
Jev glanced over his shoulder. Lornysh stood behind him on the path, the two elven guards to either side of him. One had taken his bow. Or perhaps Lornysh had let them take his bow. Jev knew he didn’t want to fight these people.
But Jev had no choice. He bit his lip and considered running straight at the ambassador. He couldn’t let the damn assassin elf get away.
“Jev?” came a familiar voice from behind the ambassador.
“Zenia!”
When had she gotten here?
The ambassador turned, looked through the gate for several long seconds, then sighed and stepped to the side. Zenia walked through the gate while gripping the arm of a prisoner, a spiky-haired elven prisoner with split lips and contusions all over his face.
“Damn,” Jev said, “did Rhi do that?”
“Not me,” Rhi said from the brush. She walked out with her bo, a contusion of her own swelling at her temple. She must have encountered the creature as well. And was that Zyndar Garlok coming out behind her?
“It was… the dragon tear,” Zenia said quietly. She looked warily at the ambassador.
Shoyalusa gazed at his fellow elf, but Zenia’s new prisoner appeared too dazed to realize he was there.
“The dragon tear beat someone up?” Rhi asked.
“It’s a long story,” Zenia said.
“It can’t be that long. It’s only been three minutes since we parted ways.”
Zenia managed a faint smile, though she looked a little dazed too. “At least six.”
“Is that the rat that poisoned the princes?” Zyndar Garlok thrust a finger at Zenia’s prisoner. His other hand curled into a fist.
“Yilnesh,” the ambassador said, sighing again. “My understanding is that it wasn’t a poison, but you’ll have to get the details from him. He’s been evasive, even with me.”
“Yet you protected him,” Jev said, wondering if the ambassador might try exactly that again.
“He is an elf,” Shoyalusa said, as if that explained everything.
“A criminal elf. Why protect him? Don’t your people—the majority of them—want Targyon on the throne? A king that has nothing against your kind and will likely do his best to keep Kor from jumping into any new wars?”
“It is early to judge what he will or will not do,” the ambassador said. “As for the rest, I do not turn on my own kind. Any elf who needs my help may find refuge and safety here.” He looked at Lornysh, his lips thinning. “That is the way of the embassy, the way of our people.”
Jev shook his head but dismissed the ambassador for now. “Zenia, can you question Yilnesh?” He pointed at the dazed elf. “We need a cure for Targyon.”
“I know, and I think so. Will you…?” She nudged the elf toward him.
Jev jogged up and grabbed Yilnesh, turning him so he faced Zenia. He didn’t think he was overly rough, but the elf gasped in pain, and his knees buckled. Jev had to hold him up to keep him from toppling to the ground. Later, he would ask Zenia if an elephant had fallen on him. He couldn’t see how a dragon tear could have pummeled someone.
“What do you intend to do?” the ambassador asked.
Zenia lifted her chin. “Question him.”
“You’ve brought him back onto embassy soil. Where you are trespassing without permission. I forbid you to interrogate an elf here.”
Mumbles came from the growing crowd, Jev’s club-wielding recruits from the tavern. They eyed the ambassador and also Lornysh and the two elven guards while fingering their makeshift weapons.
Jev strode toward the gate, pushing his prisoner ahead of him. The ambassador’s eyes narrowed, but he did not try to stop him. Was he giving up? Or did he have another chip to play?
As soon as Jev passed through the gate, he turned the prisoner to face Zenia again.
“Go ahead,” he told her. “I’ll make sure you’re not interrupted.”
Zenia took a deep breath, glanced at the ambassador, but then focused on her prisoner.
“Be quick,” he added quietly. “If you can.” He thought of the sweat glistening on Targyon’s forehead. “We may not have much time.”
22
Zenia gazed at their elven prisoner and brought her fingers to her dragon tear. After the way it had taken over during the skirmish, she was apprehensive about drawing upon its power again, and she wished she had
more time to familiarize herself with it in a calm setting. But she didn’t.
The elf—Yilnesh, she reminded herself—glowered back at her. He radiated pain and discomfort as he stood, Jev locking his arms behind his back, but he had recovered enough to appear coherent. Zenia feared he would fight her, but she believed she, with the dragon tear’s help, was his match. She just hoped the gem didn’t try to take over again. Already, she worried about explaining how the elf had come to be so battered. What would Jev think? That Cutter had been right?
“Where did you get the lake water that you used to poison the princes?” Usually, Zenia would have started with more basic information that the prisoner wouldn’t object to answering, such as his name and where he’d been born, but Jev’s words rang in her mind, the reminder that they might not have much time.
The elf sneered.
“Where?” Zenia demanded, drawing upon the dragon tear’s power.
It flowed into her without a hitch, more than she would have called for.
“Lake Eskalade on your southern border,” Yilnesh blurted, gripping his chest and almost pitching forward.
The ambassador stirred, frowning darkly at her.
Easy, she silently told the dragon tear. Easy.
“A long way from your home up north,” Zenia said.
“I have no home anymore. They cast me out because I was sympathetic to the Xilarshyar, agreed with their concerns. But I knew my people would thank me when—” The elf choked off his words in mid-sentence.
Zenia frowned, thinking he was fighting her, but then she sensed an outside influence. The ambassador. To anyone else, he would merely appear to be standing there with his hands clasped behind his back, but she sensed him interfering, trying to wall off Yilnesh’s mind from her.
“Lornysh,” she said without taking her gaze from Yilnesh, afraid she would lose her touch on him if she broke eye contact. “Would you invite the ambassador to go back inside with you, please?”