Ancientt (Elaine Waters)

Kryndor's Jewel part 4

Added 2025-05-06 02:15:19 +0000 UTC

Previously…

We are interrupted by galloping hooves. The lowdweller is charging at me.

The daring, unruly, suicidal girl!

ELIXA

One Week Ago…

The ride to the Wildlands has been uneventful, except for two rainstorms that made us hunker down for hours.

Ravore makes sure to remind me how much he despises my company. We hardly speak, and when we do, it's when I'm offering him extra food servings.

Life on the saddle has been rough. My thighs are painfully chafed after hours of riding. I can hardly feel my rear, and my skin itches everywhere, but I don't dare to complain. I'm already slowing Ravore down since I'm unable to gallop for prolonged periods like he can.

I don't wish to give him any more reason to berate me.

We trod onward through a lush forest, following a map that has not been updated in two decades and may very well lead us down a cliff. The further we trek from Kryndor, the quieter our surroundings seem. The isolation is swallowing us. It's unnerving not having the constant chattering of The Underhold that lulled me to sleep every night.

Birds sing, but we cannot spare the distraction. We listen for low growls instead of chirping. We look for fangs and claws instead of colorful feathers.

Ravore has cut down a handful of beasts, each more feral than the last.

Yesterday, I encountered an animal I'd never seen before. One I didn't know existed. A bird with black wings and intelligent eyes. It stalked us for miles as if waiting for something. Perhaps for us to fall prey to a beast so it could eat whatever remained of us.

I recognized that we were far too gone to turn back now. We are in Thallorin's underbelly. A land that is ensuring we know we're not native to.

A distant rumble makes me come to a halt. Ravore senses the tremble, too.

"A quake," he says.

"No…" I mutter.

I know quakes more personally than a topdweller like Ravore ever could. When The Underhold trembles, it's like a roaring beast. Its firm walls become paper-thin, trembles echoing through every crevice.

This is no quake.

"Let's move away from the trees," he commands.

"Don't move!" I order. "Silence."

His eyes narrow. "What are you going on about, woman?"

I give him a sharp look, hoping he shuts the vrell up before it's too late. Because beneath us are two enormous Xelathrums. Beasts that dig deep underground, frequently attacking The Underhold in search of lowdweller blood.

The earth stops moving, and I hold my breath.

And then it's trembling again as the Xelathrums change direction.

Only when they're far away enough do my shoulders relax.

"Why are Xelathrums so far out here?" I mutter.

Is this where they come from? The Wildlands?

"How did you know to distinguish a quake from a Xelathrum?" Asks Ravore.

I look at him and find something akin to surprise in his expression. This entire trip, I've done little to protect us. I've slayed no beasts and spotted few threats. He figured this was granted. That I would be of no use.

"Looks like The Underhold has a few things to teach you, after all," I reply, pushing my beast forward.

We don't speak again until later that day when we come across a lake. Its waters are eerily calm. It is so different from The Unsailable Ocean, which violent waves I've studied for hours.

I don't dare to swim in this lake's depths, but I wet a rag and clean myself up as adequately as possible.

Ravore doesn't have the same reservations. He undresses and dives into the lake. I would be a liar if I said I did not take a few peeks at his strong back. The bastard is vicious, but my eyes don't discriminate. Cruel or kind, there is no denying that Ravore is an attractive male.

"Stop staring and get in the water already, lowdweller," he huffs.

He has yet to use my name. It wouldn't surprise me if he didn't know what it was.

"If you ask nicely enough, I might let you taste me. I'm sure you've never had royal cock before."

I scowl at the audacious prince. "I'd sooner cut my tongue off."

"You're telling me you wouldn't have me? You would reject a man from House Arkon who could save you from your misery?"

"I am a scientist, sir. I long for the unknown, but there is no mystery to you. I can read your heart just as easily as numbers. There is not much to you other than anger. You are the least dynamic man I have ever met. So no, Ravore of House Arkon. I've no interest in you."

He is furious.

But that's nothing new.

***

Presently…

I charge forward, having heard enough from the bickering brothers.

Ravore is hurt, having been thrown off his spooked beast a few hours ago. His shoulder is dislocated. Other than a grunt when he was thrown off, he hasn't muttered any other complaints. But I've seen the bruising skin, and I know he's in pain.

Instead of asking for help, the man starts a cock-measuring-contest with his estranged brother.

I can see the family resemblance, given their arrogance.

The closer I get to Altreus, the more I reconsider my choice of approaching him.

The male becomes larger the closer I get. He is muscular and rugged. His clothes are nothing like the luxurious apparel the nobles at the palace wear. There is no flowing silk or flowing cotton.

This man wears heavy, thick grey furs like armor. They drape over his shoulder so naturally, as if he is a beast himself. I cannot fathom what animal the hide came from, but this horde king has proven himself to be the apex predator.

His hide pants are tight around his thighs, which look as thick as the tree trunks I had admired a few miles back. His pants are tucked into his bulky brown boots.

He wears no jewelry or makeup as some royals do, and I'm willing to bet he doesn't care for perfumes. He must smell like the wilderness around him, like his land, which I've just trespassed.

Of fresh mist, fallen leaves, and bark that's as hard and stiff as him.

His black hair might be his softest feature. Short and wavy, a few strands touching his forehead and flowing in the wind. His cheeks are stubbled. Rough.

I fist my hands when my fingertips tingle, curious about what touching his textured body would be like.

"Halt!" he growls at me. "How dare you approach? I have not summoned you, lowdweller."

"Elixa," I correct him.

My voice is even. Over the past two weeks, I got plenty of training on how to handle men of his temperament. Ravore gave me hell while we were on the road.

"My name is Elixa. You must be Altreus."

The man dismounts, falling with a loud thud. He stomps towards me. His teeth are gritted as he grabs my hips and yanks me down from the saddle.

I gasp, tossing my head back to stare at his leering expression.

"King. You may call me king. I have not given you the liberty of using my birth name, and I have not summoned you to my territory. You are out of your vrelling mind, and I am keen on helping you find it," he growls, giving me a firm shake.

I stand corrected. Brothers or not, this man is nothing like Ravore. At least Ravore had the principle not to touch me–a measure instilled in him by palace society.

There is nothing civil about this horde king. He might have been born in the palace, but the wilderness must've beaten the nobility out of him because he is manhandling me.

Behind me, I hear Ravore galloping toward us.

"King," I correct myself, gripping his wrists at my hips, surprised by their girth.

A shudder runs down my spine. This is my first time touching a topdweller male. A noble male.

"I mean no offense," I whisper, momentarily forgetting my resolve.

Clearing my throat, I say, "Ravore is injured. Would you deny him a healer?"

"Yes," he growls, looking over my shoulder as Ravore approaches. "I would."

Ravore dismounts. "Unhand her!" he shouts.

The situation that I tried to de-escalate is boiling.

I rip myself from Altreus' hold, not wanting Ravore to think I'm being held captive.

"What the vrell are you doing here, Ravore?" Altreus asks, ignoring Ravore's dislocated arm as if it's merely scratched.

"I came to search for Zirella. You must know that our sister was kidnapped by a horde."

Altreus lifts his head, crossing his arms over his chest. "Return to your palace. Zirella is safe."

"How could you possibly know that?"

"Because I am the one that rescued her!" Altreus growls back, his temper flaring like he's not used to being questioned.

"You rescued her? After proclaiming that your family is dead to you?"

"Zirella is defenseless. She is no warrior," Altreus replies. "Of course, I would defend her."

He turns away, and my panic surges.

We can't return to Kryndor. We made it through hell to reach Altreus, and my mission has yet to begin. How could I possibly extract information if I can't even enter his horde?

"We will turn away, but not before seeing a healer," declares Ravore.

Altreus scoffs. "Be a man and pull the bone back in place."

"The girl has not wronged you. She needs rest. Take her in and leave me here, if you must,” returns Ravore.

Altreus turns around. He scans me from head to toe, and it feels like my clothes catch fire.

"To enter a horde, one must offer something valuable. It is custom."

Why is he staring at me like that? Scalding eyes trying to see through me. Searching for my soul. Wondering what a lowdweller could possibly offer a horde king like him.

I swallow, entwining my fingers together.

The beasts toss their heads and shift their legs, seeming uncomfortable. They sense the tension in the air.

Something falls at my feet. Ravore has tossed his beloved, bejeweled sword.

"That should be enough for me and Elixa."

My back straightens. Ravore has finally used my name.

Altreus stares at the sword, unimpressed. "You cannot provide for the girl unless she is yours. And I highly doubt that."

"Why is that?" Ravore demands.

Altreus lifts his head. "Because you're a bigot, and you would never take a lowdweller as a wife or concubine. Go. Find a healer and be gone by sunset. The girl must stay here and await your return."

Ravore opens his mouth to protest, but I shake my head.

"I'll wait here. Go and get treatment," I tell him.

He looks between Altreus and me, seeming displeased.

After a few stressful moments, Ravore steps forward and walks away, following Altreus and leading his beast by the reins.

As I watch the men go, my eyes shift to the camp. It's enormous. There ought to be thousands of people residing here.

I'm running out of time. I need to find a way to enter this camp. I must offer it something valuable enough to be allowed in its ranks.

But what could I possibly have that would interest King Altreus?