The eastern gate of the elven city opened with a groan of ancient wood and metal. Two guards stood at attention, eyeing me with suspicion as I passed. I couldn't blame them. A human in elven leather armor carrying an enchanted sword—I'd have been suspicious, too.

  The world outside the city walls was beautiful in a way that reminded me of Earth. I could have been home, like this was some parallel reality. The air smelled fresher than anything I'd experienced before, like springtime, but with hints of spices I couldn't identify.

  I followed the river as Rowin had instructed. It flowed east from the city, a clear ribbon of water that sparkled in the morning light. The path alongside it was well-worn, suggesting frequent travel. According to the map Rowin had given me, Elindra's cottage was about an hour's walk from the city.

  As I walked, I tried to make sense of my situation. Less than forty-eight hours ago, I'd been an astronaut testing an experimental rocket. Now, I was an elf-blessed warrior on a quest to rescue a missing princess. If I ever made it back to Earth, this would make one hell of a story—one that would probably land me in a padded room.

  The path curved with the river, leading into a small wooded area. The trees here grew closer together, their branches forming a canopy that dappled the sunlight. It was cooler in the shade, a welcome relief from the morning heat.

  Something rustled in the underbrush to my left. I froze, my hand moving to the hilt of my sword. The Blade Rune's power had enhanced my reflexes, but I was still getting used to them. Everything felt faster, more immediate.

  "Probably just a rabbit," I said to myself, continuing forward.

  The attack came from above.

  A figure dropped from the trees, landing in my path. Blond hair, blue eyes, and a face contorted with rage—Torven. He had his sword drawn before his feet touched the ground.

  "I knew you couldn't be trusted," he snarled. "What have you done with her?"

  I barely had time to draw my weapon before he lunged at me. His blade whistled through the air, missing my throat by inches as I stumbled backward.

  "Are you insane?" I shouted. "The elders sent me to find her!"

  "Lies!" Torven spat, advancing with his sword held high. "I saw how she looked at you. You bewitched her somehow, and now she's gone."

  He attacked again in a flurry of strikes that forced me to retreat further. The elf moved with incredible speed and precision, each blow aimed at a vital area. If not for the Blade Rune's enhancement of my reflexes, I'd have been dead in seconds.

  "I'm trying to help!" I insisted, parrying a thrust that would have skewered my heart. "Rowin gave me this sword, this armor. Why would he do that if I was the enemy?"

  "Rowin is blinded by desperation," Torven said, momentarily pausing his assault. "But I see clearly. You arrived, and Lyrielle disappeared. That is no coincidence."

  He attacked again, forcing me back against a tree. Our swords locked, his face inches from mine. I could see the hatred in his eyes, but also something else—fear. He was afraid for Lyrielle.

  "I didn't take her," I said through gritted teeth. "I was locked in your prison when she vanished, remember?"

  Doubt flickered across his face. "You could have accomplices. The Mountain Clan would pay handsomely for a Rune Bearer."

  With a grunt, I shoved him back, creating space between us. The Blade Rune's power surged through me, and suddenly, I wasn't just defending anymore. My body seemed to know what to do without conscious thought.

  I advanced, my sword becoming a blur as I pressed the attack. Torven's eyes widened in surprise as he was forced to give ground. For all his skill and experience, he hadn't expected this level of proficiency from me.

  “I don’t want any harm to come to Lyrielle," I said between strikes. “You have to believe me.”

  Torven didn't answer, too focused on defending against my onslaught. He was good, but the Rune's power gave me an edge he couldn't match. Still, his experience showed. He anticipated my attacks, countering with techniques I'd never seen before.

  Our swords clashed again and again, the sound echoing through the woods. Sweat poured down my face, and my arms began to burn with exertion. Enhanced or not, I was still human, and Torven had been training with a sword his entire life.

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  Then he made a mistake. Frustrated by his inability to overcome me, he overextended on a thrust. I sidestepped, letting his momentum carry him forward, and struck his sword arm with the flat of my blade. He grunted in pain but didn't drop his weapon.

  Torven spun, his blade slicing across my side before I could fully evade. Pain flared as the edge cut through the leather armor and into my flesh. It wasn't deep, but it stung like hell, and I could feel warm blood beginning to soak my tunic.

  "First blood to me," Torven said with grim satisfaction.

  The pain focused me. The Blade Rune's power surged again, and time seemed to slow. I could see Torven's next move before he made it—a diagonal slash aimed at my shoulder. I parried it, then countered with a strike of my own, which he managed to block.

  "I'm not your enemy, Torven," I said, pressing my advantage. "We both want the same thing.”

  "A human could never understand what she means to us," he said, “to me."

  Ah. So that was it. Not just a duty but something more personal. "You love her," I said.

  His face contorted with rage and pain. "She is my princess!"

  "And more than that to you," I said. "Does she know?"

  "Silence!" he roared, attacking with renewed fury.

  His emotions made him sloppy. I deflected his wild swing and stepped inside his guard. Our bodies collided, and I used the momentum to throw him off balance. As he stumbled, I brought the pommel of my sword down hard on the back of his head.

  Torven collapsed to the ground, unconscious but breathing.

  I stood over him, breathing heavily. The cut in my side throbbed, and my blood soaked through my tunic and armor. I needed to bind the wound before continuing, but I couldn't leave Torven lying here unconscious. Despite his attack, he only tried to protect someone he cared about. I could understand that.

  I dragged him to the base of a tree and propped him up against the trunk. He'd have one hell of a headache when he woke up, but he'd live. I considered taking his sword but decided against it. The action would only antagonize him further, and I had a feeling I hadn't seen the last of Torven.

  Using strips torn from the bottom of my tunic, I bound my wound as best I could. The bleeding had slowed, but the makeshift bandage was already soaking through. I needed proper medical attention, but that would have to wait. Finding Elindra was my priority now.

  I continued along the river path, moving more slowly due to my injury. The pain was manageable, but the blood loss was concerning. If I didn't get the wound treated soon, I'd be in trouble.

  After another twenty minutes of walking, the trees thinned, and I spotted a small cottage nestled in a clearing near the river fork. Smoke rose from its chimney, and a small garden of herbs and vegetables grew alongside it. This had to be Elindra's place.

  I approached, one hand pressed against my wounded side. As I neared the cottage, the door opened, and a young elven woman stepped out. She was shorter than Lyrielle, with honey-blonde hair and large, expressive eyes. She wore a simple dress of green and brown, with an apron tied around her waist. She was beautiful in your girl-next-door kind of way.

  Her eyes widened when she saw me, taking in my human features, elven armor, and the blood seeping between my fingers.

  "By the Runes," she gasped. "You're hurt!"

  "Are you Elindra?" I asked, my voice sounding strained.

  She nodded, rushing forward to support me as I swayed. "You're the human everyone's talking about. The one Lyrielle blessed."

  "John Robinson at your service,” I said. "The elders sent me to find Lyrielle. They said you might know where she went."

  Elindra's face clouded with worry. "Inside, quickly. That wound needs tending, and we shouldn't talk out here in the open."

  She helped me into the cottage, which was small but neat and comfortable. Herbs hung from the ceiling beams, filling the air with a pleasant, medicinal scent. A fire burned in the hearth, and a pot of something that smelled delicious simmered above it.

  Elindra guided me to a chair at a small wooden table. "Sit. Let me see that wound."

  I eased myself down, wincing as the movement pulled at the cut. "It's not deep, but it's bleeding a lot."

  "Torven's work, I'd wager," she said, her tone disapproving as she gathered supplies from a nearby shelf. "He always was too quick to draw his sword."

  "You know him well?" I asked, surprised.

  "Everyone knows the captain of the guard," she said, returning with a bowl of water, clean cloths, and various jars. "And everyone knows he's been in love with Lyrielle since they were children. Not that it matters with her betrothal to Eodurn."

  She helped me remove the upper portion of my armor and tunic, exposing the wound. It was a clean slice about four inches long across my ribs, not deep enough to be life-threatening but certainly painful.

  "This will sting," Elindra warned, dipping a cloth in the water and adding something from one of the jars.

  That was an understatement. When she pressed the cloth to my wound, it felt like she'd applied liquid fire. I hissed through clenched teeth, gripping the edge of the table so hard my knuckles turned white.

  "Moonflower extract," she explained, continuing to clean the wound despite my reaction. "It burns, but it prevents infection and speeds healing."

  "Seems like moonflowers are good for everything around here," I muttered, remembering the vial Rowin had given me.

  Elindra smiled slightly. "They're rare and powerful. They only bloom when both moons are full, which happens once a season."

  As she worked, I studied her face. She was pretty in a gentle way, with none of Lyrielle's regal bearing but a quiet confidence of her own. Her hands were skilled and sure, suggesting she'd done this many times before.

  "You're a healer," I said, observing her.

  "Among other things," she said, applying a paste from another jar to my now-clean wound. "I serve Lyrielle as handmaiden."

  The paste numbed the pain, replacing the burning sensation with blessed relief. Elindra then began wrapping clean bandages around my torso with practiced efficiency.

  "There," she said, securing the bandage. "That should hold for now. The paste will help it heal faster than you'd expect, but you'll need to keep it clean and change the dressing daily."

  "Thank you," I said sincerely. "Now, about Lyrielle—"

  Elindra's expression grew serious. “Yes, but you’re going to need to rest for awhile to let your wound mend. Even with the moonflower extract, you’ll need to wait an hour.”

  “But every hour I wait is an hour I’ll be behind on her trail,” I said.

  “You have me to help you now,” Elindra said with a soft smile. “And I want you to take me with you.