Arrow on the String: Solomon Sorrows Book 1 by Dan Fish (no david read aloud TXT) 📕

“I must find a Seph, Julia,” he said. “When I do, I ask you to trust me. If the elves take you, you’ll never find peace. I’ve held you too long. You deserve better than this.”

She leaned closer. He imagined her breath on his skin. She said something, gave a sad smile. He nodded as though he understood.

“There’s more at stake,” he said. “I don’t understand what. I met a Seph claiming to know Ashra. She sent a warning, but it made no sense. I don’t know what it means, but it feels wrong. The Seph was in an orc. And I didn’t think that was possible. I think it caught the elves off guard, too. They’re skittish.”

Julia shimmered. Like the air around a flame. Subtle, brief, but unmistakable. She noticed it as well. She drew closer, grasped at his cloak, his chest, his arms. He lifted his hand to her face. She leaned against it, passed through it. They had little time left. He knew it. She knew it.

“They’re keeping secrets. They’re desperate. The Archmage was in the room. Asking questions. They wanted to know about the Seph and the dwarves, and they had at least twenty guards as backup. I’m good without a bow, but not that good. They were worried about more than me. Something bigger. They think I might be part of it.”

She had shimmered as he was speaking. She talked as he talked, their words colliding silently, her mouth moving faster and faster. She stepped closer, leaned in to kiss him. It always ended this way, with the illusion unraveling, and desire pushing aside reason. Her face came close, her lips passed through his. Then she was gone, and he was left standing on the battlement.

He should have been alone, was always alone in these moments after Julia had left. But a figure stood before him now, clear as glass, but given shape by the rain. Water splattered, beaded, trickled down its body. He could make out a head and arms and legs, but little else. No face, no clothes, no fingers upon its hands. It walked towards him with slow, steady steps.

“It is time to wake, Solomon,” said a familiar voice. “Julia has left. Come back to the tower.”

✽✽✽

ELDRAKE LOOMED OVER Sorrows, flanked on either side by a guard in black and gray. She stared at him, brow furrowed, hands clasped behind her back.

“What did you see?” he asked instinctively. A stupid question. One which could only be answered with a lie.

“Nothing,” Eldrake said. A lie.

“What do you want?”

“I wanted to speak with you alone.”

Eldrake made a gesture with her hand, and the two guards vanished. The room was empty. There had been no warping of light, no faded colors, no colors too bright. The guards had looked as real as she did. She was good. Better than good. She was the best Weaver he’d met. Which made her the best liar he’d met, though she would likely argue the point. She turned and stepped away from him, moved to the wall then returned, and gathered her thoughts as she paced.

“Did you know before the war, humans and elves often lived in the same cities?” she asked.

“I remember,” Sorrows said.

She nodded. “Yes, I suppose you would. The dwarves have always stuck to their mountains, and the Seph wander the planes between worlds. Goblins haunt the forests, centaurs the grasslands, orcs the swamps. The elves have scattered towers throughout, though we prefer to be near oceans. But the humans were different. Humans could adapt to any environment, so they sought the peoples they were most interested in. Most often they favored the elves. And, because we are a somewhat arrogant species, elves grew quite fond of humans.”

“You had an odd way of showing it. Where were the elves when the Seph declared war against us?”

“The Seph were never at war with humanity. Their true target was always the elves. They saw us as a threat. They exploited our relationship with humans and used your species as pawns against us.”

“So we were just mortal fodder caught between warring gods-born.”

“Something like that. Do you remember how the Seph used humans to attack the elves?”

“Yes.”

“Do you have any idea how hard it was for us to strike down the faces of people we had passed in the streets? Of friends? Do you know how many elves died by their own hesitation?”

Sorrows shook his head. “Do I have an idea? Gods, Eldrake, do you? We fought the Seph, as well. You battled friends. We battled family. Lovers, husbands, wives, children. You have no idea what we faced. And in the end, we still lost.”

Eldrake said nothing. She stared at Sorrows, hands clasped behind her back. He leaned away, rested against the chair, stared back at her.

“Why are you telling me all this?” he asked.

“To remind you of what the Seph were, and to warn you of what they could become again,” she said. “You saw the orc. The Seph have never possessed mortal races before.”

“They possessed humans.”

“Humans were different. You were gods-born at one time. But orcs?” Eldrake gave a laugh, short and bitter. “The Seph have learned a new magic, and that is nothing to take lightly.”

“I suppose not.”

“Be careful who you trust, Solomon. The Seph wear many faces, but never their own.”

Eldrake walked to the door, opened it, turned to face Sorrows.

“You’re free to leave, if you wish.”

Sorrows stood quickly, bow in hand.

“Just like that?”

“Just like that. For all the discourse on motive, means, and opportunity, we still lack evidence for now.”

“Then this was all about the Seph?”

“Not entirely. We wanted to take your measure. To see what you were capable of.”

“I didn’t kill those dwarves.”

Eldrake sighed and looked every minute of her age.

“I hope not, Solomon. I truly hope not.”

Chapter 7

THE STORM DIED as storms do, with a final gasp of wind and sputter of rain. An unnatural quiet followed, as the sounds of life sought shelter in any available