While Miirik argued with the ballroom guards Jarik sprinted to the end of the hallway. Sera’s nose wrinkled as she watched the half-elf throw open a window at the end of the hall. She was the only one who watched him craw through the window and into the night.
Outside Jarik stood upon a ledge and fought the urge to look down at the long hard drop. With elvish grace he nearly danced along the ledge across the castle wall. At the massive ballroom windows he peered through the glass. Several elves were dispersed across the room and a handful of human guards stood at the doors.
Jarik tugged on the window, it didn’t open. The half-elf knocked soft, catching the attention of an elf sitting below the window.
“Why are you out there?” the elf raised an eyebrow.
“Let me in, I’m here to protect you.”
“You have a funny way of protecting those who are safe.” The elf pulled on the latch but magic held the metal bar tight. “The human magic is strong, I am unable to open this window.”
“Get someone who can. There isn’t a dance floor out here.”
The elf motioned for another to join at the window. An elf with long white hair came to the window and waved his hand. The latch popped off and the window swung open.
Jarik drew his rapier and approached the Catheldor guards at the door. “Those people outside need access to this room,”
“Who are you to give orders?” A lead guard said while the rest drew their swords and circled Jarik.
“My king would allow human blood to spill. Does your king allow the luxury of spilling elf blood?” A flick of Jarik’s wrist punctuated his words. Blood crept across the lead guard’s cheek where the rapier had traced a line.
The guard’s eyes shifted from the half-elf to the rest of the elves who stood and surround them to his own men. He shook his head and spoke a magical command. The doors opened just wide enough for the three outside to enter. As soon as they entered the guard uttered another command and the doors slammed shut.
The dark of night was shattered when a tower was bathed in light. The ballroom occupants were drawn to the windows like moths to flame. Through the tower windows they saw the shadows of a dwarf fending off several humans.
“Looks like Thothen found some trouble.” Jarik’s fingers clutched his weapon.
Miirik stood beside the half-elf. “That is the wizard’s tower. The Ildonians must have headed there.”
Jarik leapt to the window. “My blade has tasted blood and will not rest until the awoken thirst has been quenched. Which way to the tower?” Miirik barked directions and the half-elf disappeared into the night.