It took only a few moments of hard riding before they spotted the cloaked figure running away from them. Dorian leaned forward in the saddle, urging his horse to an even more hair-raising speed, then, with a neck-breaking stunt, leapt from the galloping animal and landed on the ground a few metres in front of the fleeing human. To his surprise, the figure did not even attempt to stop, but crashed straight into him and went sprawling.
He might even have felt a flicker of pity—if he hadn't been thinking about how this child-sized human might have overheard them earlier. He took a step closer and loomed over the prone figure.
"And where do you think you're going?" he asked.
By then Marcus had caught up too and pulled a face as he looked down at the one on the ground. Leonie lay frozen, motionless, only the rapid rise and fall of her chest and her wide, terrified gaze darting between the strangers giving away that she was still alive. As much as panic threatened to swallow her whole, she pressed her lips together and didn't utter a sound. Whether she did it out of defiance or simply to stop herself from screaming was another question.
"Who sent you after us? Who are you?" the blond man continued in a hard voice, taking another menacing step towards Leonie. With a rough motion, he yanked back her hood to see her face better.
"It's a girl!" Marcus exclaimed in astonishment, pointing at her.
"Yes, I can see that," Dorian sighed, shaking his head. He couldn't very well kill a woman who couldn't help having the misfortune to cross their path. But was it really an accident she was here? What if she had been sent to spy on them? Teaching the Baron a lesson might be useful—showing him clearly where the limits lay.
"Quite a pretty one, too, I'm sure—" Marcus began, but didn't get to finish the sentence. Leonie suddenly pushed herself up and, with no better idea, clenched her fist and punched Dorian in the face with all her strength.
A loud crack followed the blow, and pain shot through Leonie's hand. It didn't even cross her mind that this was the same hand that had been broken not long ago, but she had no time to worry about a wrist that was now most likely fractured again. While Dorian stared at her in shock, she scrambled to her feet and ran as fast as her legs would carry her, with no idea where she was headed—only that she needed to get as far away from these two damned men as possible. She was too frightened to think clearly, but one thing she was certain of: if they caught her, they would kill her.
"Damn, Dorian, she gave you a good one," Marcus said, sounding far too amused by the situation. Dorian quickly waved him off and rubbed his face. The punch had barely hurt; it was more like being brushed by a butterfly's wing. But still, it would not do to let some human girl land a hit on him in the middle of a forest. Her bravery deserved a certain respect—but it was also a foolish thing to anger someone so much stronger than herself. And she'd had the misfortune of picking an elf.
He pushed himself to his feet and, with a sigh and a raised eyebrow, glanced at his friend.
"Ahh, I love a good game of tag," Marcus said with a grin, rubbing his palms together. In the same heartbeat, both of them shot off after Leonie.
The girl clearly had no idea that an elf's speed far surpassed that of a human, so her attempts at escape were completely hopeless. She had almost started to believe she'd shaken off her pursuers when she heard them again behind her. They moved surprisingly quietly through the undergrowth. Panic rose in her, the world blurring before her eyes. She was panting as if someone had forced her to run up the highest mountain, while the two men closed the distance at impossible speed.
In her helplessness she let out a scream, feeling the panic thunder in her ears and smother her senses. In the next few seconds, the sound of pounding footsteps behind her suddenly stopped, replaced by curses. She faltered for a moment, shook her head to clear her vision, then, without so much as a glance back, changed direction and sprinted toward the castle and the tunnel she'd used to escape, her only thought to reach her room.
And what had caused the swearing? The instant her scream rang out, a thick tangle of roots burst from the ground at the elves' feet. They lost their footing and went sprawling, tangled up in the woody mass.
"What the hell?" Dorian growled, struggling as he tried to free his legs. The more he fought against the roots, the more stubbornly they clung to him. His companion was having just as much trouble beside him.
"How did this get here? What the—? You see this too, right? It's wrapped itself round my ankle!" Marcus stared in disbelief as he began methodically snapping the roots away from his legs. By the time he had freed himself and helped Dorian back up, the girl was long gone.
Dorian looked around, but he knew they would not catch their watcher now.
"Well, this is an interesting start," he said at last.
"Who do you think she was?" Marcus asked, turning towards him.
Dorian shrugged, whistled once, and both horses emerged from between the trees. He caught his stallion's mane and swung himself onto the jet-black back in one fluid motion.
"Let's move on. We shouldn't keep our host waiting," he said with a hint of mockery in his voice. "Maybe this meeting will be more exciting than we thought," he added, thoughtful now.
Since the great slaughter he hadn't heard of humans using forbidden magic. So how was what had just happened possible? Perhaps they were closer to what they were searching for than he had believed. Maybe, if he managed to reach an agreement today, he would gain what he had come for far sooner than expected. Maybe his father had been right after all, and humans had not forgotten magic. And if that was true, the Book might be closer than they had ever imagined.
Could it be?
And who was that girl?
He called up the image of her face, which he had had the chance to study up close: pale green eyes, skin as white as snow, freckles sprinkled over her nose and cheeks. She had seemed terrified; it was hard to imagine she had been sent as a spy. She had been as fragile as a frightened little bird. The Baron surely had more sense than to send such a creature after them. She was probably just a girl from the town. Yes, most likely.
They rode the rest of the way in silence until they reached the gates. As they approached, the guards swung them open at once, and the elves did not hesitate to enter the human town. Their expressions showed careless indifference as they rode up towards the keep.
Dorian surveyed the collection of houses—which barely deserved to be called a town—with a touch of disgust. The place stank and was filthy. He immediately drew the conclusion that anyone who kept his people in such poverty must be rotten to the core. The Baron was surely a greedy man, and a fearful one too, judging by the sight of the castle that rose above them.
Castle—though it was far more like a fortress. Thick walls surrounded it, seemingly impenetrable, guarded by a great many soldiers. Or had so many men been brought out just in their honor? Either way, the mistrust on every face was plain to see. That at least proved they were not complete fools. Even so, not even fifty such men could stand against a single elf.
At the foot of the castle steps they drew their horses to a halt and dismounted with fluid elegance. Stable boys hurried up at once, bowing as they reached for the reins.
"Careful with them, they're real beasts. Wouldn't want them biting your fingers off," Marcus said gravely. The stable lads cast nervous glances at the animals. Dorian rolled his eyes and added:
"Give them the best feed you have."
Then he turned—and saw a round little figure waddling towards them, already bowing theatrically after just a few steps. Given the man's enormous belly, that was quite an achievement.
"Welcome to the Baron's estate," the man said in a wheedling voice. "We are honored by your visit." His beady eyes gleamed slyly up at them.
"Obviously," Marcus snorted.
Their host immediately straightened up, cleared his throat and clapped his hands together.
"You must have travelled a long way. You have arrived just in time, dinner will be served shortly. We will show you to your chambers so that you may refresh yourselves. However, I must ask you to leave your weapons out here. My master does not like it when—"
"No," Dorian said, his voice cold as ice.
Every guard nearby instantly laid a hand on his sword. Marcus looked positively delighted, eyeing the closest soldier as if calculating how many seconds it would take to cut him down.
"Er… I beg your pardon, I meant no offence, but I must insist—" their host began again, clearing his throat nervously.
"We are not leaving our weapons," Dorian cut him off once more. "Besides, it wouldn't matter—we could slaughter you all with our bare hands. But we did not come here to fight. Show us to our rooms." From the blond elf's mouth, it sounded far more like a command than a request.
To underline his point, he simply strode past the man and into the castle as if the whole place belonged to him. Marcus followed with his hands in his pockets and a cheerful air about him.
For a few seconds, the Baron's man just stared after them, his face twisted into an unpleasant mixture of anger and fear. Then he snapped out of it and hurried after them, leading them up to their rooms. The chambers were very similar to one another and lay directly opposite, each furnished with extravagant luxury: a huge bed in the centre, armchairs grouped around a fireplace, and a private bathing room opening off to the side. Everything was gilded and draped with the most expensive fabrics—so much so that the effect was more gaudy than tasteful.
"With your permission, dinner will begin in half an hour. I will come and fetch you before then," the man said, bowed and closed the door behind them.
Marcus immediately turned to Dorian. "Repulsive fellow, isn't he? And this place…"
Dorian nodded in agreement. He knew exactly what his friend meant. Inside this castle everything screamed excess, while their people, judging by the state of the houses outside, scraped by from day to day. Had this plague spread through the entire kingdom? Did it come from the king himself? Or was it only the Baron who was this vile?
"We'll find out soon enough what we're dealing with. I fear it won't be easy not to kill this man," Dorian sighed. "And Marcus, keep your comments to yourself this once. We didn't come here to stir up conflict." He sank down into one of the armchairs by the fire and looked at his friend, worry etched into his features.
"Much as I don't care if my father flies into a rage, he's right about one thing. This is our best chance of getting closer to a solution without starting a war. We have to convince them it's time to mend the bond between our peoples."
"And you really think that if they knew where the Book is, they'd just tell us? I say your father's wrong," Marcus said, dropping into the opposite chair and folding his arms. "Up until now they've believed the elves to be dead and gone, and if the Book is here, we're only putting ourselves in danger by walking into their den."
"I agree with that much," Dorian replied, "but if they had the Book, they wouldn't have looked so surprised to see us. One thing is clear: they haven't forgotten magic. You saw what the girl did. I felt her energy. The knowledge they gained from the Book obviously hasn't been lost, even after all this time. Perhaps it isn't in the king's hands either. Perhaps he's searching for it as well."
"I still say it would be better to raze this place to the ground. Then we wouldn't have to negotiate with anyone. We'd just take the Book, whoever has it, and finally free ourselves from this curse," Marcus tried again. "You know you could just make the rules yourself. You don't have to follow whatever your father says…"
Dorian regarded his friend thoughtfully. In that, Marcus was entirely right. His own word could be final as well.
"There are a great many innocent people living here. Would you kill them too?" he asked at last.
Marcus glanced out the window and pulled a face. "Obviously not."
This time he wisely held his tongue.