Luthandra must flee Westridge! To be sentenced to wed a man with a severe lack of hygiene is to be sentenced to a life of misery! Her elf companion returns and offers a way out, but little does she know that she is walking into a trap.
Part I: Luthandra Raikin
Part II: Dráiden Kaldor
III. Elven Tidings
Wind whipped the pine trees overhead, making their black silhouettes look like seething dragons with outstretched claws. Luthandra struggled to keep from nodding off. She dug her fingers into the handle on the saddle in an effort to force herself to be alert.
He had returned. He had come back for her. The mysterious elf from Adaina Pass had rescued her.
“I know of an elf lord, my lady,” he had said. “I’ve sent word to my people, and he’s agreed to offer his hand! I know I am but a lowly sword-smith, but he…a powerful elf lord with blonde hair. His blade is unmatched! Some say he’s even more skilled than Avanduil.”
Between the sobs and the lingering odor in her mouth from Lord Kaldor’s slimy, grotesque tongue, Luthandra felt she had no other choice. A shudder ran through her when she thought about that wretched kiss. The elf tightened his grip on her torso, mistaking the movement for clumsiness.
“I’m okay,” she cried. I can’t let him think I’m weak. I’m just tired and…She winced. Kaldor was a monster! Oh, the dreadful way he had embraced her! The putrid stench that nearly made her retch right then and there! Then there was the matter of his sadistic sentencing. She couldn’t get the image out of her mind…The blood…the fear in the criminal’s eyes as Kaldor sliced his left cheek….because beheading him wasn’t enough…
“Hang in there!” the elf called. “We’re almost there!” Half the night had gone by, and Luthandra supposed she only had a few hours left until Braynia would wake up to find her mistress gone.
The foliage grew thicker the farther they traveled; the trees seemingly banded together like some sort of dark, twisted symphony of the night. She caught the elf occasionally whispering in some unknown, ancient tongue. They were now in The Wunderlands, she knew, the long stretch of forest between Westridge and the elven kingdom of Álainn.
No one entered The Wunderlands unless the elves summoned you, and they never summoned you, or so Braynia would say in her stories. The horse slowed to a trot, and she sucked in a deep breath. Finally. Luthandra was sick to death of traveling! She wanted nothing more than to fall into her future husband’s arms and bury her face into his beautiful, elven hair.
Shadows drifted between the trees as three tiny blue lights flickered into existence. Another elf appeared with two dark figures flanking him. He was adorned in leather and chain-mail so fine that she couldn’t distinguish the different links in it. These don’t look like regular patrol wardens…Why wear such fancy armor? Is my new husband eager to meet me? She smiled at that.
She didn’t wait to be helped off the horse. Luthandra swung her legs over and landed on her feet in the cool forest bed.
“Celmyra’s Gift, Wench,” said the elf with the glimmering chain-mail. Her gem began to glow. Metal slid against leather, and she counted three swords being unsheathed as the two shadows stepped into the clearing to join their leader.
“I-” she paused, bringing a hand up to her jewel. She covered it. “I’m sorry?” Perhaps wench meant something else in their tongue.
“You heard me loud and clear. Hand it over, or we rip it from that unworthy neck of yours.”
Her companion slid down from his horse, and she heard him unsheathe his sword. Its pointy tip pressed against the small of her back.
“But…I…am…to be married to an elven lord with long blonde hair. We are to have children, and-“
The leader laughed, a sneer marring his pale face. “You had your chance.” He pressed closer. She covered the amulet with both hands. The elves proved stronger, for she was just a maid of eighteen years. They gripped her wrists and tore her hands from her neck while her companion sliced the chain that held her family’s heirloom in place.
“How dare you!” she shrieked. “My father will hear-”
Her companion backhanded her and grabbed the front of her dress. Luthandra winced. Tears came bursting forth, and she found she had no control over herself. Heat seared from her forehead as her blood boiled beneath her skin. She screamed a series of words she did not know and had no business coming from the mouth of a high born maid.
His hands tore the thick fabric of her blue traveling gown. Its sleeves fell down her arms as the thing coiled at her feet. Stars studded her vision, but it was no deed of the elves which blinded her fury so.
“I AM LUTHANDRA RAIKIN! I AM GOING TO BE LADY OF WESTRIDGE!”
“Glory and riches wants she, the Maiden Vain,” they laughed. The leader swept his torso into a mocking bow as his fellows continued chanting their impromptu song.
“How can you be Lady of Westridge if you run away from your betrothed?” he sneered. “Leave her with just her chemise,” he barked. The others dropped their haughty grins. “Let her wander The Wunderlands in her own misguided blindness.” There was a hiss, and the elves were gone.
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