Bloodfire Quest

They slowed as the man and woman saw them and drew to an uncertain halt. If anything, the pair seemed frightened of them, and Aphen, sensing this, gave a friendly wave of reassurance. The woman returned it. The man stood motionless, watching.

“Easy, now,” Cymrian told her.

Aphen nodded, at the same time sizing up the couple in front of them. Foragers or farmers, not Rovers or town people, she decided. They’d lived hard lives and had little to show for it, but their bluff faces did not suggest they were either bad-intentioned or dangerous.

“Have you seen a girl?” she asked at once. “Small, young. We left her lying on the ground in the woods more than a mile back. She was injured, and we—”

Before she could finish, the woman wheeled on the man and struck him as hard as she could. “I told you we should have waited! Look what you’ve done!”

The man seized her by the arms to keep her from hitting him again. “Aquinel, stop it! We don’t know anything yet.”

“You have the girl?” Aphen asked at once, unable to contain herself any longer. “She’s my sister. Her name is Arling. Is she in your cart? Is she all right?”

The man and woman exchanged a quick look. She could tell immediately by the looks on their faces that something was wrong. “What is it? What’s the matter?”

The woman shook her head. “We didn’t know you were coming for her. We thought she had been abandoned. Her clothes and all the blood, you see. So we took her with us to keep her safe. But then we saw the airship, and we thought …”

“They said they were friends, that they could take her with them, make sure she got the help she needed,” the man said, cutting her off.

“We didn’t know!” Aquinel wailed, and began to cry.

Aphen stared. “Are you saying you gave my sister to some men flying an airship? What did the airship look like? What flag did she fly?”

“She was a warship, I guess,” the man answered, not looking at her, trying to find a way to comfort the woman, who was having none of it. “She was a Federation ship, I think.”

Aphen went pale. Shades. The ones who were hunting us.

She didn’t need to speak the words. Cymrian would be thinking the same thing. Arling had been given over to their enemies, to the ones who had brought the assassin and the mutants.

“Have they lifted off yet?” Cymrian asked, moving a step closer. “Have they left?”

The man shrugged. “They were still on the ground when we started back. That was maybe ten, fifteen minutes ago.”

The Elven Hunter took Aphen’s arm and pulled her ahead. “Quickly, now. Maybe we can still reach her in time.”

They charged past the man and the woman and went down the trail in a rush. They did not look back.



Sora and Aquinel started walking again, neither looking at the other. The rains had diminished to a few scattered drops, and the windblown mists had begun to re-form and thicken once more.

“Elves,” Sora said after a time. “Dangerous look to them, too. Did you see their clothes? All torn up and bloodied. The man was hurt. You could tell by the way he was holding himself.”

He waited for Aquinel to say something, but she wouldn’t even look at him.

“I did what I thought was right,” he said again.

But he knew that wasn’t entirely so. He’d done what he hoped was right and what he knew would net him a profit. He’d been right about the men on the airship. They’d been quick to reward him for his efforts in retrieving the girl, and they hadn’t looked anywhere near as questionable as the Elves. Of course, the injured girl was an Elf, too, and she looked the same as these two. But who was to say what the real relationship was between them? Maybe the two women were sisters, but maybe not. How could anyone tell? Those Elves all looked the same to him, anyway.

Terry Brooks's books