“Boult!” Harp said.
“And no one used the portal spell, Liel. I found it in the house.”
“Give it to me,” she ordered, glaring at the dwarf.
“Why don’t you use some magic and take it from me?” Boult taunted. He would have expected Harp to snap at that, but instead Harp seemed to taking a closer look at the slender elf sitting next to him, her body rigid with tension and her hands clenched into fists as they rested on her knees.
“Harp, she isn’t the Liel that you knew,” Boult said.
“And you’re going to listen to him, Amhar, the Killer of Children?” she said, turning her head sideways to address Harp. As her gaze drilled into him, he felt a chill go up his spine. She’d spoken in such a placid tone that it took a moment for the implication of her words to hit him. When it did, Harp leaped to his feet and backed away from her as if she’d spoken with the hiss of a forked tongue. Boult’s face darkened, and he looked at the elf with pure hatred.
“He’s been deceiving you all those years, Harp,” Liel continued in that flat voice. “If he’s innocent, why didn’t he tell you who he was? He’s in league with Queen Anais. They killed all those children to secure her power. There is no one to challenge her anymore. And once she gets her hands on the Torque, there will be no one to stop her.”
“I don’t even need to ask the question, but reassure me,” Boult asked. “Did you tell her about my past, Harp?”
“I did not,” Harp said quietly. He had felt beaten when he woke up that morning, but suddenly it felt like his body was being crushed under a heavy weight.
“Why the head games, Liel?” Boult demanded. “Why torture Harp with guilt?”
“You’ve kept your freedom so far, Amhar. But you’ll die a miserable death at the Vankila Slab, the way you already should have died.”
“If you know Vankila, then you knew where I was all along,” Harp said taking a ragged breath. “Did you know what they did to me at Vankila at the request of your husband? Did you know?”
Liel started to run, but Boult launched himself at her. He tackled her, knocking her off the log and onto the ground. He tried to pin her down with his body, but she slammed the palm of her hand into his face. He managed to turn his head just in time to avoid a broken nose, but when his weight shifted, she twisted out from under him. She tried to scramble to her feet, but Boult lunged at her again, pinning her down. Liel struggled ferociously, but the dwarf outweighed her, and he managed to catch her arms and hold them.
“Harp!” Boult said, straining with the effort of keeping Liel’s long limbs in check. “Grab her!”
Awoken by the sound of shouting, Kitto and Verran appeared on the porch, looking sleepy and confused. The boys stared wide-eyed when they saw Boult tussling with the elf while Harp looked on passively, as if he didn’t care about the scene that was playing out in front of him.
“Don’t leave the trees!” Boult yelled to the boys.
Before anyone could respond, there was a harsh, guttural noise from outside the compound and movement above the wall. Harp saw a silhouette framed against the blue sky as something leaped over the barrier and landed on the ground in front of the gate. The creature had a humanoid body covered in green and brown scales and the elongated head of a snake. Leather armor covered its muscled chest, and it held a jeweled sword in its clawed hand. A twist of gold shimmered around each of its ankles.
The yuan-ti-serpentfolk of Chult. A forked tongue flicked in and out of its wide mouth. The creature crouched down and swayed back and forth as it scoped the inside of the compound. With its red eyes focused on the cluster of people in front of the hut, it bared its long fangs and hissed loudly in an unfamiliar language. Liel and Boult were still wrestling on the ground, but Harp felt too exhausted by Liel’s treachery to move. It was as if he had grown roots, and even the imminent threat of an enemy attack couldn’t incite him to action.
“Help me,” Boult demanded angrily. Verran hurried down from the porch while Kitto dashed inside the hut to retrieve the sword that Harp had taken from the armory. Before Verran reached Boult, the compound’s gate began rattling as if it were being battered by a strong gale. The hinges creaked, and horizontal cracks branched across the door like lightning flashing across a stormy sky. The wood groaned. The planks snapped in half and fell to the mud.
When the dust cleared, more yuan-ti wearing leather armor and golden bands around their ankles stood in the wreckage. Behind them, three massive warriors crossed through the remains of the gate and entered the courtyard. Although they had human arms, these warriors were more snake than human and three times the size of a man. The warriors slithered on long, serpentine bodies around the wooden fragments of the door. Their dark scales glistened in the light, and their cloudy blue eyes protruded from their diamond-shaped skulls. Two carried long swords and wore plates of banded mail on their chests. The third gripped a jeweled metal staff and wore a row of glass vials and metal spikes looped across his chest.
“Take your sword!” Kitto urged, pushing the hilt into Harp’s hand. Harp took it, but he let it hang loosely in his hand, the tip dragging in the dirt.
“Why aren’t they attacking?” Verran cried. He tried to help Boult pin Liel’s arms, but she struggled with renewed energy. The yuan-ti stopped when they reached the edge of the grove, prowling just outside the trees and talking in a mixture of hissing and clicking sounds.
“Someone cast a ward of protection,” Boult said, shoving his knee into Liel’s stomach just below her rib cage. She coughed at the impact and stopped fighting as she gasped for breath. “Look at the marks on the trees.”
“Who did it?” Verran asked.
“It’s Dwarven. That’s all I know. But as long as we stay inside the circle of protection, they can’t come into the grove.”
“We’re just going to sit and wait?” Verran cried. “I don’t like that plan.”
“We sit here until Harp gets his head together,” Boult said. “Get your head together, Harp. Now!”
“Please, let me go,” Liel cried. She was shaking from exertion. “You don’t know what they’ll do.”
“They’re your friends,” Boult growled, pressing his knee harder into her chest until Liel gasped in pain. “You told them we were here.”
“No!” Liel protested, pushing ineffectually against the dwarf’s leg. Boult lifted the pressure slightly so she could talk. “I hate the yuan-ti. They’re monsters.”
“Who’s your patron?” Boult demanded. “And stop blaming the poor queen.”
The yuan-ti left the edge of the grove and turned their attention to the common building. One of the smaller creatures jumped onto the roof and tried to light the straw with his flint and steel. But the straw was wet from the rainstorm the night before, and the sparks didn’t catch right away. Another creature leaped up onto the house and dumped oil from a waterskin onto the roof.
“They’re going to burn us out,” Verran said. “Will that work?”
“How should I know?” Boult said crossly, yanking Liel to her feet. A small flame flickered on one side of the roof, but with the oil soaking into the straw, the entire roof would burn soon. While Boult was distracted by the yuan-ti, Liel jerked away from him. Harp saw her slip a dagger from a sheath under her arm and thrust it at Boult. Knowing the dwarf might kill Liel for such an assault, Harp tried stop her, but the dagger sliced into his forearm. The blade split his skin just below the wrist, and Harp felt the warm blood soak down the sleeve of his shirt to his elbow.
When he saw the dagger clutched in the elf’s hand and blood running down Harp’s arm, Boult lunged for Liel. Harp stepped between them and blocked the dwarf with his shoulder. The impact of the dwarf’s weight sent Harp sprawling backward into Liel, and the two of them tumbled down the embankment into the main grounds of the compound.