Chapter 1: Captor
Khalvir walked at the head of his raiding band. He kept his eyes forward, fixed on the way ahead of him. The open plain stretched into the distance, leading on into the rolling hills under the deepening sky. He listened only to the crunch of the hard ground under his fur-wrapped feet, the breath as it passed through his lips. How long had he waited to breathe the fresh air, yearning to clear his senses of the cloying atmosphere of the forest? But now that he was free, the air tasted sour on his tongue.
He did not permit himself to turn and see his captives held in the grip of his men, nor hear the terrified hitching of their breath. For if he did, he wasn’t sure he could keep placing one foot in front of the other.
But he could feel her.
He could feel her eyes boring into his back. He could feel the hatred. Hatred where once there had only been the love and trust of a kindred spirit. A spirit he had shattered with the worst of betrayals.
Khalvir ground his teeth together. He had warned her. He had done all he could to make her see where her path would lead, but the fool had not listened. Now they were both doomed. Khalvir took another cutting breath.
He might have been her prisoner. She might have confined him to a dank and forsaken pit but he would trade this freedom, the clean air, the joy of open ground, he would trade it all to be back inside his prison and have her regard restored to him, whether it had been true or feigned. Khalvir gripped the arshu staff he carried in his right hand, letting the weapon ground him as his knees almost gave way. He was fighting the temptation to turn and throw himself down in front of her and beg for her forgiveness.
He would not get it. If he knew nothing else, Khalvir could be sure of that one thing. She saw him for what he was now, not what she wanted to see. The killer, the monster; the merciless, hard-bitten warrior serving a People who had all but wiped hers from existence. Khalvir kept his eyes on the hills ahead. He did not deserve her forgiveness.
“Khalvir.” Galahir moved up beside him.
He spared his old friend the barest of glances. “Yes.”
“Why did you order the food we captured to be left behind?” Galahir’s broad face was troubled. “You have already provoked the wrath of our Chief by not raiding the entire elven clan. Lorhir will not hesitate to divulge what you did back in the forest.”
Khalvir permitted himself a tight smile at the memory of Lorhir’s nose crunching under his fist. It was no less than the treacherous jackal had deserved. He had not become the leader of the raknari by permitting his orders to be questioned.
“Now you return with only two females and half our number wiped out by wolves,” Galahir continued. “He would have expected more from such a costly raid. We should have kept that food. It may have appeased him. Khalvir, you could—”
“Galahir,” Khalvir cut his friend off. He knew the consequences he could face, but it mattered little to him anymore. He had left his heart behind in that forest. There was no torture his Chief could conceive of that he would not gladly face if it could absolve him of the memory of her face when she had realised…
“Lorhir will make stories of how they put you under their spell,” Galahir continued in a low, urgent voice. “He’ll try to convince the Chief that your loyalty is divided, that your elven blood—”
Khalvir halted and leaned upon his staff.
Galahir paused for a long moment, as though he was debating whether it was wise to speak. “Is that what happened?” he asked in a hushed breath. “Did that girl put you under a spell? The way you look at her sometimes…”
Panic gripped Khalvir’s stomach as Galahir’s insinuation struck too close to the mark. He had not realised he had been so transparent. “Galahir!” he snapped. “I am under no spell. You know as well as anyone that such power is a child’s tale. The elves are good at tricks with animals, that is all. I had reason to leave the food. Think. When hunting, do we wipe out the entire herd in a flash of greed only to be left hungry later on? No. I left the food behind because without it, that tribe of Elves we have just found to our detriment would not last out the winter. By leaving the food, I have ensured there will be more elves for the Chief to hunt come the Thaw should these two survive.”
“Ah.” Galahir tossed his shaggy head, appeased. “I see.” His blue eyes strayed back to the two prisoners. “At least these two ought to satisfy him for now… I, for one, could easily be caught under her spell. She is very beautiful.”
A surge of jealousy took Khalvir by surprise. He rounded on his friend before he could control himself. “What?”
Galahir blinked, nonplussed. “The silver-haired elf. I have never seen anything like her.”
Khalvir allowed his attention to stray to the girl he knew to be called Kyaati. “Oh.”
“But her face… it’s more than being captured. She looks like she’d rather be dead.”
Khalvir kept his shrug casual. “I believe she lost a baby.”
Galahir’s face contorted. “Oh.”
“Don’t worry, Galahir,” Khalvir said, his own gnawing pain making him bitter. “It is more than likely that she will get her wish soon enough. You know as well as I that they never survive for long outside of their forests. A curse will take them sooner or later. Either that or they will take their own lives rather than live among us.”
Galahir flinched. “There’s no need to be so cold-hearted about it.”
Khalvir barked a humourless laugh. “It’s the truth. Why hide from it? They’re nothing but witches and evil sprites, after all. Go,” he waved a hand, “take Lorhir and a couple of others and try to find something to hunt. It is almost time to make camp and I’m tired of roots.”
“As you wish,” Galahir said coolly and dropped back to speak to the men.
Khalvir closed his eyes. Witches and evil sprites. His hate for the elves had hardened his heart to their suffering. In his eyes, it had been nothing less than they deserved. That was before she forced her way into his life.
He caught a flash of ebony hair and dark indigo eyes in his periphery and twisted his head away before he met the gaze he could feel waiting for him.
Khalvir thought of the dangerous path that lay ahead and how few men he now had at his back. These Plains were prime hunting grounds for spear-tooth prides. Rival clans edged the way. On the journey to the shin’ar forests, his men had picked up signs that the Eagle clan had passed through the area. Their totems marked kill sites. Khalvir hoped to Ea that they had moved on.
If Tamuk were to discover him at such a disadvantage… his old friend might have his long awaited revenge. Khalvir grimaced. He was in no mood for that confrontation.
And if they made it through without a fight, there was still Nekelmu’s territory to traverse. The odds were stacked high against his band’s survival.
A blind rage filled him, and his hardened heart cracked. Gripping his staff in both hands, Khalvir lashed out at a stray sapling and gave a howl of frustration. The sharpened stag antler strapped to the haft shattered the young tree. He felt the bewildered stares of his men behind him, but did not care what they made of his strange outburst.
He had brought Nyriaana into danger, and she would hate him for the rest of her life. And that may not be for long. Even if they made it back alive, his Chief would watch her. She was the very thing he had been waiting to find. He would have her in his grasp and Khalvir knew that was something he could not protect her from or bear to witness, not if he continued to allow himself to feel.
