5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Elessan

T he sun had dropped two finger-widths in the sky as Elessan crouched on the edge of the roof, studying the sentry posted outside the storeroom door. A breeze ruffled his cloak, sending his scent directly toward the man.

But since the guard was a human, his nose was worthless.

Elessan relaxed and pushed a few wayward strands of hair from his face.

The lookout leaned against the support beam, chewing on a stalk of wheat.

Elessan narrowed his eyes and snorted in disgust. Humans were stupid to waste what grain they had in such a way, even if the crop was immature and covered in protein. The lookout was not very focused on his task, which only made Elessan's job easier.

But the man didn't look like a mage, either. It was possible his informant had gotten his information wrong, though the graffiti in town indicated the presence of a mage somewhere nearby.

So, what was the sentry? Magic user, or lazy soldier? He'd kill to have access to a magestone like Malkov's Arcane Inquisitor. The Mage Underground had been persecuted for so long, they'd become far too cautious for the elven royals to easily contact.

But the Mage Underground were crucial allies if the sun elves were going to be successful in removing the Cerel family from power. And he had no idea how numerous they actually were.

The wheat drooped lower in the human's mouth as his muscles relaxed.

Two figures approached, a muscular man dressed as a farmer and a petite girl with frizzy hair that her braid only just managed to control.

"Ahoy, Therolis!" The farmer extended a hand and waved at the sentry, who straightened and spit the stalk onto the ground.

"Shh! Keep it down, will yeh?" The guard gestured inside the stockroom. "Get in here, before someone sees you!"

Elessan nodded. "Yes, get off the street. And take the wheat-chewer with you," he mumbled. That way, he could get close enough to find the intel he needed.

If he waited up here much longer, his legs would fall asleep.

Infiltrations like this were better done at night, but his new travel companion complicated the situation. He fought back a smile as her eyes, crinkled with amusement, drifted through his mind. She was his primary mission at the moment, and he couldn't remember the last time he'd laughed.

The three humans below disappeared into the gloomy storeroom.

For this, late afternoon would have to do.

He vaulted across the alley and landed with the grace and silence of a cat, catching himself on the tiles above the stockroom awning.

He scrambled until he lay adjacent to the skylights. The roof creaked beneath his weight. He frowned. If only the windows were open to ventilate the heat of the day. Then he might be able to hear anything said inside.

He climbed up to examine the hinges. They were rusted. Best to not risk opening them.

Looking over his shoulder to confirm the angle of the sun wouldn't cast a shadow below as he peeked through, Elessan turned and squinted into the gloom.

The building was empty.

But that couldn't be right. This was a major military supply depot for the southern quarter of the realm.

He craned his neck, searching the vast area of the storeroom. There—in the corner.

Was that everything?

The single pallet of bales wouldn't support the village through the winter, much less the rest of the kingdom. Especially if it was in no better shape than the wheat stalk the sentry had been chewing.

If the elves could hold out until the first freeze, the human problem might just solve itself.

He reached into his pocket and removed the oil cloth he used on his swords. Perhaps he could work enough grease into these hinges that he could crack the windows open without anyone noticing.

When the area was as lubricated as possible, he popped the latch. The rusted metal snapped in his fingers, and the window fell inward with a crash.

Valek!

So much for the element of surprise.

He threw himself through the opening, falling to the ground in a shower of fractured glass. His knees bent, absorbing the impact. He reached for his swords and brandished them at the three humans.

Smirking, he imagined what sort of demon he must resemble among the shards and gloom. "Who's in charge?"

The two newcomers looked at the sentry. The lazy man stepped forward, attempting to shield the others with his body, and drew his sword. "I am. The name's Therolis. Who're you?"

Only by Abaddon would he be stupid enough to give them his name. "I'm looking for the Mage Underground. Where are they?"

Therolis' lips pressed into a thin line, and he jutted his chin out. "What's it to the elves?"

Elessan tilted his head. Therolis was braced to block a high lunge. If he needed to, slicing the arteries on his arms was an option, but the angle had to be just right. Inner thighs would be easier, but the man was more likely to bleed out.

Unless… He could play with the human a little, see if he called on magic.

It risked further alienating the Mage Underground, but Tsara was waiting, and the princess expected results. The consequences for failure were steep.

Elessan swung his first sword in a slow overhand attack, letting Therolis block it, and stepped back before his opponent could react. "We want the same thing…your king, dead. We should be working together."

The human jumped forward, swinging. "If we ally with you, you'll kidnap our women and enslave them."

Elessan ducked underneath, jabbing his spare dagger at Therolis' ankles. "What are you talking about?" What was it with everyone assuming the elves wanted to collect humans?

The man leapt over the thrust, and brought his blade down, seeking to pin Elessan's weapon in the dirt.

Elessan tumbled to his right, bouncing to his feet with his swords pointed at the other man's neck. This one was actually skilled with cold steel . "Personally, I'd love nothing more than to end this war and go home to my quiet hamlet to live a boring life."

Therolis stepped out of range. "Knife-ears aren't to be trusted."

A prickle of magic tickled the fine hairs on Elessan's arms. He smirked. Ah, hah. He took another step sideways as Therolis lunged.

The farmer took a couple steps left, trying to flank him while Elessan was distracted.

Elessan rolled his eyes as he jumped toward Therolis' unprotected side. "Our goals are the same. Listen to me." He counted the second human's footsteps as he countered his opponent's next attack.

Three… two… one… Now!

He spun, sending one sword end-over-end at the errant human. The farmer's eyes grew wide, and in his panic, he ducked in the wrong direction. The blade embedded halfway to its hilt in his chest.

Valek.

The girl with the frizzy hair screamed. "Derek!" She ran to his side and cradled his head in her lap.

Therolis froze.

Elessan ripped his opponent's weapon from his grip and slid the tip up the man's inner thigh to rest against his groin and growled, "Don't move. Unless you want your artery severed, or to become a new man."

The woman raised a tear-stained face and glared at Elessan. "You've killed him! Why? He did nothing to you!"

"I only meant to warn him off—he stepped right into it!" Elessan shook his head and turned his attention back to Therolis. "The Mage Underground. And the depot's latest orders. I won't ask again." He tilted his head.

"You want mages?" The girl spit at him. "You've got them!"

She leapt to her feet, spinning her hands in a complicated routine.

A globe of water appeared in front of her, and she shoved it toward him faster than he could track.

He raised his forearm to block, and the liquid encircled his bicep.

She screamed a word he'd never heard before.

The water froze.

It burned.

She bared her teeth in a vindictive grimace.

He flung his arm frantically, trying to shake the biting cuff of ice. It weighed more than he expected, throwing him off balance.

Therolis cried out.

His scream ripped Elessan's attention to the man.

Blood spurted from his inner thigh.

Valek.

Why couldn't his wrist have twitched the other way? The man would have survived a castration, at least, but the severing of a major artery?

"Don't die on me!" He still needed information.

Elessan brought the pommel of his last blade down on the frozen water encompassing his bicep, again and again. After several heartbeats, the ice shattered, and he threw himself to his knees beside the sentry. He pushed against the wound with all his strength.

"You, mage." He glared at the girl. "Use your magic, cauterize this before he bleeds out."

The color drained from her face. She shook her head. "I don't—I don't know how."

He growled, baring his fangs. "Then get over here and do that thing with the ice you just did to me!" Elessan looked at his bicep. His flesh where it had touched was almost white.

That couldn't be good.

It was a problem to deal with later.

The young woman—she couldn't be much older than Aliya—knelt on Therolis' other side. "How?"

He grabbed her hands, pushing them against the bleeding man's leg, until the blood stopped gushing and only trickled between her fingers. "Apply pressure here. Then, do whatever-it-is you do, and conjure ice, water, or whichever element you want, and cauterize the wound!"

He couldn't believe he was trying to save a human's life.

By Abaddon…

Elessan snatched Therolis' head and held it up to meet his eyes. "Where are the orders? The mage underground? Tell me!"

The man spit.

Elessan wiped the globule of saliva from his cheek.

Therolis relaxed with a sigh, and Elessan dropped his head to the ground.

Valek.

"You monster!"

The woman lunged at him, bloody hands curled like talons, aiming for his eyes. Her unexpected weight bowled him over, and they rolled across the floor.

She grabbed his hair and yanked, pulling his head to the side, exposing his neck.

Her nose cracked under his fist before she could shred his throat.

The girl backed off with a whimper as blood gushed down the lower half of her face. One cheek was already turning black.

Eyes wide, she turned and fled.

To follow her, or not? He poked the white ring of skin around his bicep. The tissue was hard, and cold. She was more dangerous than she seemed. If she ran to the mages, he'd know where they were, but may well end up over his head. An alliance with the sun elves was likely out of the picture, at least for now.

He'd see what he could find here, then.

If the girl decided to fetch the constable, he'd have no more than a few minutes.

Elessan eyed the wheat long enough to confirm that they were as protein-covered as his first impression. Twenty-six bales.

He spun around. Where would they keep important documents? There—by the exit. A cramped office he'd overlooked earlier. It was as promising as anything.

He ran across the room and threw the door open. A small desk with a dusty lantern occupied most of the compact space. Dust swirled at his passing, tickling his nose and making him sneeze.

Flicking the lamp's hammer back, he released it. The resultant spark lit the wick, casting a golden light through the room. He rifled through the papers piled on top of the table.

Nothing.

He dug through each drawer, not caring about the contents he upended onto the floor.

Any minute now, he'd hear the guards. But the only sound that reached his ears was the shuffling of parchments and slamming of cabinets.

The concealed handle on the inside stuck when he yanked on it. Bending down, he squinted. A lock. Perfect. Exactly what he was looking for.

Pulling two thin slivers of metal from inside his tunic, he bent down and got to work.

Too many heartbeats later, he spread the map across the desk. He traced along the major roadways with his fingers.

Should he try to memorize this, or bring it with him and hope he could stash it before Aliya saw?

He frowned. Memorize. He didn't want to have to kill her, too, if she discovered it in his possession.

Pausing, he listened for sounds outside. Still no alarm. Perhaps the girl hadn't alerted the city guard, after all. A lifetime of living in the shadows, fearing their discovery, seemed like it had taught her to be wary of law enforcement. He turned his focus back to the parchment.

Famine supply lines? He glanced over his shoulder at the small pile of wheat. According to this, they didn't run through Ithabasa, after all…which was unfortunate, as it was tantalizingly close to the elven border. But they did cut across Perdition Pass. Troop depots were stationed here and in Westcliff to the south, and Fisherman's Warf to the east. That must mean—he traced his finger to the top of the map—the northern depot was in Lion's Grove.

Elessan held the corner of the parchment to the lantern's flame until it caught. The flames licked the edges, creeping inward hungrily.

He bit the inside of his lip and glanced at the wheat. Should he burn it, too?

Tsara would order him to. She'd take any possible advantage to win this war, even if it meant starving widows and orphans.

What was here in the depot was no doubt destined for the army.

He straightened his back and marched over to the pallet, holding the burning map to the edge of the closest bale. The flames caught, eagerly licking up the side.

He studied the disheveled office once more before turning his back on it. In the middle of the room lay his oiling cloth, much dirtier for wear. He picked it up, brushed off the bits of glass and rust, and shoved it into his pocket.

His fingers stuck to the fabric. He looked down—they were covered in blood, as were his tunic and pants. He couldn't show up at the inn looking like this with Aliya there.

He poked his head out the front door. The streets were empty, and the last of the sunlight cast long shadows across the cobblestones.

The market was just to the south, and everyone was likely closing by now. It should be easy enough to find something in his size with the vendors gone. And Aliya needed a new cloak. Her coin was still in his pocket.

He shook his head and scoffed as he melted into the gloom, headed toward the bazaar. The na?ve fool had tried to give him five gold!

Why hadn't he taken it?

The scrying mirror felt heavy tied to his belt. Even now, Princess Tsara awaited his update. Unease twisted in his gut. It was his duty to report Aliya's presence. She was a magic user and may be useful in stopping Malkov Cerel's genocide against his people.

But a human who hadn't been in the real world long enough to learn basic survival skills would be unlikely to possess any vital information related to the Mage Underground. Especially judging from her confusion when she'd seen the graffiti.

Unless she was more shrewd than she let on… He replayed the scene from last night as he skulked toward the market.

No. She was an open book, and too na?ve to conceal something so important.