Taboo Online

Caelir turned toward the inner village before Luke could ask another question. He managed two hurried steps before his injured leg folded, and Luke caught him under the arm before he hit the bridge.

"I can walk," Caelir said through clenched teeth.

"You almost proved otherwise."

"The Queen needs to know the lower route is open."

"She’ll hear it faster if you reach her alive."

Caelir stared toward the center of Lethariel, where the silver Heartroot rose through fire and smoke. After a moment, he allowed Luke to take some of his weight.

Lauren moved to his other side. "Show us the safest path."

"There are no safe paths left."

"Then choose the one with the fewest enemies."

Caelir glanced at the violet symbols moving across her blindfold. "Can you see them?"

"Some of them."

"That is more than most of us can manage."

He guided them away from the ruined watchtower and onto a walkway curving around the nearest trunk. Luke expected the pale wood to creak beneath their combined weight, but living roots had woven themselves through the underside and held the path firmly in place.

Beyond the reinforced walkway, Lethariel was coming apart. Smoke filled the spaces between the trees, homes burned inside hollow trunks, and the remains of broken bridges dangled from thick vines above the lower terraces. Elves moved toward the center in scattered groups, carrying wounded relatives or whatever possessions they had managed to save.

Several elves stopped when they saw Luke. The unease on their faces turned to open fear once they realized he was human. A man carrying a young girl pulled her closer and moved toward the far edge of the walkway, while two injured defenders raised their weapons despite the blood running across their armor.

Caelir forced his voice above the fighting. "They came through the lower Heartroot passage. They are not with the invaders."

No one lowered a weapon.

Luke could hardly blame them. The humans tearing apart their home had come from Earth, and he had arrived carrying a spear while dressed much like them. Lauren’s pointed ears remained hidden beneath her hair, leaving only the green light beneath her skin to suggest she had any connection to the elves.

A heavy impact shook the bridge. Somewhere above them, part of another walkway broke free and crashed through the lower branches.

"Keep moving," Caelir said.

The route narrowed around the side of another trunk, forcing them into a single line. Luke stayed behind Caelir with one hand near the warden’s back in case his leg failed again, while Lauren followed close enough that her fingers occasionally brushed Luke’s arm.

A broken support beam blocked the walkway ahead. Two elves were trapped beneath it. One had already gone still, but the other struggled with both hands pressed against the white wood while blood soaked his legs below the knees.

Several defenders had gathered around him and were trying to lift the beam, but a twisted root held one end against the walkway.

Caelir slowed. "The inner gate is close. Others will come for them."

The trapped elf cried out when the beam shifted across his legs.

Luke released Caelir and moved toward him.

"Luke," Lauren called.

"I’m not leaving him under that."

Caelir looked toward the smoke behind them. "The creatures from the lower bridge may recover once the corruption finds new anchors."

"Then help me make this quick."

Luke wedged the metal end of his spear beneath the beam and pushed down on the opposite side of the shaft. His mana was nearly gone, but the leverage lifted one edge several inches.

The nearby defenders understood immediately. Two grabbed the trapped elf beneath his arms while another took hold of his belt. Lauren pressed one hand against the root pinning the far side of the beam, and green light spread through the bark beneath her palm.

The Heartroot could not remove the damaged support without bringing part of the walkway down, but a thinner root rose beneath Luke’s spear and added its strength to his. Together, they lifted the beam another inch.

"Now!" Luke shouted.

The defenders dragged the elf free. Luke released his spear, and the beam slammed back onto the bridge, sending pain through his bruised shoulders. The roots beneath the walkway absorbed most of the impact, but his arms still shook when he pulled the weapon free.

One of the elves knelt beside the wounded man and pressed a strip of cloth against the torn flesh across his legs.

"He needs a Thornmender."

"The nearest one is at the inner circle," Caelir said. "Carry him with us."

The defenders lifted their companion between them. Caelir kept watching Luke when he returned.

"What?" Luke asked.

"You stopped."

"He was trapped."

"The inner gate may fall because we delayed."

Luke looked toward the rescued elf. His face had gone pale, but he was still breathing.

"Then we should walk faster."

Caelir gave a short nod and continued forward.

The path descended into a wide hollow inside the next tree. The chamber had once been a market, with empty stalls curving around the inner wall and flower-shaped lanterns hanging from branches overhead. Now the floor served as a field hospital, and the hollow smelled of crushed herbs, blood, and the sharp sweetness of leaking sap.

Wounded elves lay across blankets and strips of torn cloth. Some had suffered burns, while others carried black stains where the Rain had reached their skin. Healers moved among them with bowls of glowing water, bundles of herbs, and long silver-green thorns.

An older healer hurried toward Caelir the moment she recognized him. Her gray hair had been woven into a thick braid, and narrow scars crossed both of her hands.

"You should have returned half an hour ago."

"The lower terrace was sealed."

"And that prevented you from bleeding?"

Caelir tried to move past her. "The Queen first."

"The Queen already has enough dying wardens to command."

The Thornmender took his arm and guided him toward a low bench. He started to object, but his injured leg shook as soon as he put weight on it, and Luke helped him sit before the protest went any further.

The defenders carrying the elf from the bridge placed their companion on the next blanket. Another healer moved toward him while the older Thornmender cut open the side of Caelir’s damaged armor, revealing a wound deeper than Luke had realized. Black corruption had gathered around the edges and followed the veins beneath his skin.

When the Thornmender selected one of the long living thorns, Luke tightened his grip on his spear.

"What are you doing?"

She looked at him for the first time. "Keeping him alive."

"That thing is sharp."

"So is the object in your hands."

Before Luke could respond, she pushed the thorn into Caelir’s wound. His body went rigid as green light traveled down the living wood and spread beneath his skin. The black veins around the injury pulled inward, gathering around the point buried inside him.

Luke watched the corruption climb along the thorn while the wood drew it out. When the healer slowly withdrew it, clean green mana followed behind and closed the damaged tissue from inside the wound.

The injury did not disappear completely, but the bleeding stopped and the darkness beneath Caelir’s skin faded.

Luke stared at the narrow puncture left behind. "You stabbed him."

Caelir exhaled through his teeth. "An excellent observation."

The Thornmender wiped black residue from the thorn. "Healing the surface would have sealed the corruption inside him. The spell needed a path into the damaged channels."

"And putting that in him gave it one?"

"Yes."

Luke studied the living thorn again. The method still felt backward. Every skill he possessed used a sharp weapon to damage whatever stood in front of him, so the idea that piercing someone could help them made little sense. Even so, Caelir’s breathing had already steadied.

The Thornmender noticed his interest. "Have humans forgotten how healing works?"

"Most of our healers don’t stab the patient first."

"Then they lack imagination."