Firebrand

“You do not understand,” the other said. “You exist at my sufferance, as my slave only. You will die here, sooner or later. Meanwhile, I will enjoy making all that is yours mine.”

There was another frigid breeze, and the other was gone. Zachary raised himself to a sitting position, grimacing at the pain in his ribs. So, the aureas slee could change its appearance. The Eletians had not mentioned this fact.

The two women emerged from hiding and approached him tentatively.

“That changeling creature,” he said, “that was the aureas slee.”

“Yes,” the Eletian replied, and the one called Magged nodded behind her. “Slee is our master.”

“It is not mine.”

“Perhaps not, but Slee will see it differently, and accepting that will make it less difficult for you.”

He nearly started to argue, but realized the futility of it, and the absurdity, for he still wore nothing but his own skin. He was starting to shiver from cold, and probably shock. The Eletian woman removed her shawl and draped it around his shoulders.

“Thank you,” he said.

“Come with us where it is warmer.”

Zachary followed behind the two, pressing his hand against his ribs and wincing. Cracked and bruised, he thought, not broken. They led him behind a dripstone curtain formation and down steps carved into stone. The natural glow of the rock became more spotty, more like veins of some mineral in the limestone. Magged shyly glanced over her shoulder at him as they went. Soon they emerged into another large chamber. Little of the glow was in the walls and the air felt dryer. There were almost no formations. Glowing stalagmites that looked like they’d been broken off from elsewhere, however, provided light in strategic places around the chamber. He seized upon the idea of how useful a glowing mineral could be to light homes and streets, how it could be mined and brought to Sacor City, how there could be trade in—

He stopped himself. He had no idea where this cave was located, and if it would even be feasible to get miners and equipment wherever this was. Not to mention he was a captive and needed to find a way to escape before he could even think of bringing miners to the site.

A slab of rock rested in the center of the room and appeared to make a natural table. There were hides and wool blankets in nooks for sleeping that must have been painstakingly chipped out over a long period of time. Rough-hewn chairs provided seating, and someone had fashioned shelves upon which sat fine silver and gold cups and platters, and eating utensils. He ran his fingers across the nearest wall, which was incised with words and drawings.

“This is our house,” Magged said proudly. “How do you like it?”

“You live here? In this cave?”

“It is our prison,” the Eletian said, “but it is home. Come, we will see what we can find for you to wear.”

She led him across the chamber to a chest. It must have once looked magnificent, ornately carved and inlaid with ivory, but the carvings were blurred with mold, the ivory yellowed and cracked, and the hinges rusty. She lifted the lid and inside there was cloth. She started pulling out pieces of clothing—gowns and cloaks, and breeches and shirts, and, most disturbingly, the garb of children and infants.

“Where has this all come from?” he asked.

“Slee brings those it desires here,” the Eletian said, “in whatever they are wearing. Eventually the mortals die and leave behind their belongings. We weave some of our own cloth, of course.” She plucked at her homespun shift. “Slee will occasionally bring us a komara beast for the wool and meat.”

The komara, Zachary knew, roamed the arctic wastes. “Are there others here, besides you and Magged?”

“No. Slee has not collected anyone new since before Magged passed adolescence, a young boy, but he was sickly and did not last long.”

He frowned, and cast an eye toward Magged, who held a fancy gown of silk and brocade, at least two centuries out of date, up to her shoulders. Most of the items looked to be from previous eras.

The Eletian found him a linen shirt, yellowed from age, patched and mended, a velvet double-breasted waistcoat that may have once been green but had faded to grayish brown, and loose trousers and a belt that had not moldered too much. Rough woven socks and a sturdy pair of boots rounded out the ensemble.

“Let me look at your ribs,” the Eletian said, “before you are all dressed.”

He pulled on the trousers, and then let her probe his ribs. He flinched as she pressed.

“Cracked, it would seem,” she murmured. “You will be sore for a time, but not much to be done for it. At least they are not broken. We’ve a hot spring you can soak in down below to ease the pain.”

Zachary nodded his thanks and drew the shirt over his head. “What are you called?” he asked. There was great depth and age, he thought, in her stormy blue eyes. He’d seen the ocean that color off the coast of Hillander.

“Nari,” she replied. “And should I call you ‘Your Majesty’? Slee made you sound a king.”

“My name is Zachary.” Titles, he thought, were irrelevant here.

“Magged is what she called herself when she came here,” Nari said. “I am not certain if that’s what her parents called her, for she was but a toddler when Slee brought her.”

Zachary glanced at the woman, who was now whirling and dancing with the gown in her arms.

“Slee doted on her at first, but then grew tired of her, as Slee does of all those it collects.”