Daughter of the Wind

20. The Recluse

Nineteenth of Harvest

Belkai was shocked at how strong the Blackwings truly were, despite their seemingly scrawny forms. They carried her through the air for a full half hour by her estimation before dropping her back to the ground. Her guess about their being led by instinct had been wrong – the Recluse must have directed their attack to capture her. Belkai cried out in pain as she hit the ground, then lifted her head as a half dozen elves surrounded her. They were her height, fair skinned and variously armed with bows and swords. They wore white armour that seemed like some sort of leather that she didn't recognise. So, not wiped out. But why do you serve the one who destroyed your home? She slowly rose to her feet, ignoring the blood leaking from the claw marks in her shoulders.

"You are the mage Mishtar seeks," one of the elves said, stepping forward and letting his sword hang by his side. "He bids you to join him."

"Who is Mishtar?" Belkai chose to feign ignorance. Perhaps she'd survive longer.

The elf's eyes narrowed. "The vile ones call him the Recluse. That name has no place here."

Belkai nodded wordlessly and didn't resist as another elf stepped forward to tie her hands in front of her with a solid rope. That done, he patted some sort of ointment onto her wounds. She bit her lip to keep from crying out as the deep cuts burned like fire. Her eyes stayed locked on the lead elf, who seemed to be bursting with hate.

"Do you have a name?" Belkai asked, fighting to keep her voice steady through the pain. The elf didn't answer, only gesturing for his comrades to move into the forest. The one who had put the ointment on her wounds shoved her forwards and she followed their trail. Not knowing their abilities, she held back from using her magic to study them. The less they understood her, the more surprise she could gain when the time came.

"How did you track Mishtar?" her captor asked quietly. In her mind, Belkai decided to call him Yola, after an elven villain from a childhood story. It was a rare moment of true hatred on her part.

"His trail is obvious to those with understanding," she replied, knowing that her quiet voice was easily heard by the whole group. "It didn't take much strength to follow it."

Yola didn't answer, but Belkai knew that he didn't believe her. It didn't matter. She had no intention of speaking to any but this Mishtar. He alone had the answers she needed.

After a few more long hours, their leader whispered an order. Yola grabbed Belkai by the arm and she froze in place. He had a finger over his lips, and pushed her down under a bush. The other elves had already melted away. After a few moments of confusion, Belkai heard something big crashing through the undergrowth. She closed her eyes and reached out, not thinking about hiding her abilities from her captors. Whatever was coming, it radiated contempt – not anger or hate, merely a disdain for anything in its way. The elves, at least, were concerned. That got Belkai's attention. Whatever was coming, it wasn't an ally, but perhaps she could put it to good use. She decided to try something new, and made her presence known to the creature. It was just a sensation it received, a hint that someone was nearby. She heard a distant grunt, then the crashing began to draw closer. Beside her, Yola silently drew a dagger and held it tight. He glanced over at her and grimaced. His racing heart told of the tension that he felt.

"Troll," he whispered. Belkai could see it now, or at least part of it. A head came into view not too far away, a scarred face whose grey, weathered skin reminded Belkai of a sundried tomato. Its massive shoulders bulged with muscle. No wonder the elves are nervous. This thing could take a beating and probably not even notice. She reached out again, this time giving the troll a new sensation, drawing it away. It hesitated, sniffing the air as it caught the elves' scent. Belkai strengthened the signal that she was sending, and the troll gave a loud grunt before stomping away.