Of Liars and Thieves

by Gabriela Lavarello

  She surveyed her companions, the sight of them helping the dream fade slightly from her racing mind. Jealousy tickled at her stomach as she looked down at Nora. The mogwa was curled around Krete, the gnome’s hat-covered head resting atop her paws. Finriel didn’t understand why Nora had taken such a liking to him, as she was notorious for hating everyone, much like her master.

  Finriel glanced down at Lorian, who had taken up a position near the edge of the group, as far away from her as he could be, she noticed. His dark wavy hair brushed over his closed eyes and his thick lashes fluttered as he took in a deep breath. Finriel quickly turned away and got to her feet, her steps forming a tight circle where she had slept. She shook away the flash of her dream from her mind, her teeth grinding together almost painfully. She couldn’t shake the hands from her throat, nor the water and stones slicing her face. For it hadn’t been a dream; it had happened ten years ago. Finriel had been inches from death before Nora had come and gravely injured the elf boy who had tormented and hurt her beyond reckoning. It had been terrifying indeed, though it hadn’t been the only thing that caused Finriel countless sleepless nights. Of course, it kept her from being able to bathe for more than a few minutes before her throat began to clench, but it wasn’t the thing that caused her countless sleepless nights. It had been the dark-haired boy with striking blue eyes, Finriel’s best friend. It was the fact that he had simply left that made her insides churn. She was expendable to him, nothing more than someone whose life meant less than his.

  Ten years had passed where Finriel was convinced that she would never see her best friend, or the person Finriel had believed to be her best friend, ever again. Until two days ago, when she had been taken from her quiet cottage in the city and sent to the Crimson Castle and given this quest. And now he was lying not even two yards away from her, black hair shrouded over his painfully beautiful face, sleeping peacefully as if nothing had ever happened. As if he didn’t care about what he’d done to her.

  Finriel couldn’t breathe. She needed to get out and walk somewhere, anywhere. She turned and swooped down to grab the cloak she had used as a blanket during the night, clasping it around her shoulders as she squeezed out of the thick bushes that had sheltered them.

  The air exploded with sounds of life as Finriel emerged from the enclosure of bushes, and the muscles in her shoulders loosened slightly. The furry rodents were out once more, along with the colorful birds that called to each other in an exotic song. She closed her eyes, taking in a deep breath of the sweet forest air. Right as she began to step forward, a soft male voice spoke behind her and made her spine go rigid.

  “Finriel.”

  It was Lorian.

  Finriel ignored him and began to walk away, not caring where she was going. She had the map, she could find her way back to camp. Lorian cursed and his footsteps grew louder. Maybe she would be able to lead him into whatever cave or nest the chimera was making its home.

  “Finriel, we need to talk,” Lorian called behind her.

  Finriel tensed as a warm hand encapsulated her wrist to slow her down. She inhaled sharply and stopped, spinning and wrenching her wrist from his grip as she faced him.

  “Talk about what exactly?” Finriel snapped.

  She wasn’t going to make it easy for him. His eyes pierced into hers, and she held back a shiver as they locked into a silent battle. After what felt like forever and yet no time at all, he looked away and took a step away from her.

  “I’m sorry,” he mumbled.

  Finriel barked a laugh. “You’re sorry? After ten years’ worth of time to think of an apology, that was the best you could do?”

  Lorian’s expression suddenly changed from one of discomfort to frustration. He took a step forward and Finriel quickly stepped back.

  “Okay, I know that wasn’t a good way to start,” he replied with an edge in his voice.

  “I got used to what you did eventually.” Finriel placed her hands on her hips. “I thought you would come back and explain why you ran like a coward. But you didn’t, and I satisfied myself by thinking you were dead.”

  “Please, just let me explain,” Lorian insisted, returning her glare with a pleading stare.

  The desire to say no was almost overwhelming. She wanted nothing more than to slap that look off his face and feed him to the dragon they would eventually have to face.

  “I don’t think there is much to explain,” she replied simply. “Leaving your best friend to be drowned at only ten years old is quite clear to me.”

  Lorian winced, but she found that she didn’t care about the blow she had dealt.

  “That’s not what happened,” he insisted.

  Finriel raised her brows and crossed her arms over her chest, anger rolling in fiery waves within her core. “Then what exactly happened for you to just leave me at the moment that I needed you more than anything?”

  “I left because I was trying to find help,” Lorian insisted. “You remember what Barrin said. If I tried to stop him, he would have let you drown before killing me afterwards. I couldn’t take the chance.”

  Finriel winced as Lorian spoke the name of the elf boy she had desperately tried to forget. “I could have died while you were gone and you would have only found out after you returned. Barrin wouldn’t have been able to kill me, even by accident, if you had stopped him.”

  “I know, and I feel all the more a fool for it.” He sighed. “But when I went to get help, I was—”

  “Lovebirds, it’s time to go,” Tedric’s deep voice called from the bushes behind them.

  Finriel inhaled sharply and clenched her fists, glancing over Lorian’s shoulder to find Tedric’s head sticking out of the greenery. Finriel waved at him in acknowledgement and the warrior’s head disappeared. Lorian took another step toward her, his eyes shrouded by guilt.

  “This isn’t over,” he said softly.

  Finriel ignored the squeeze in her chest and moved past him without a word of reply. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to say anything, because she did. Yet Finriel knew better than to let her tongue slice through cords that were already frayed. The sounds of wildlife around her molded into one buzzing sound as she fumbled through the thick brush and into the clearing. Aeden and Krete’s backs were turned to her as they spoke in hushed tones, and a flutter of wariness went through her stomach.

  “I’m here,” Finriel huffed, and looked to Tedric, who was watching her, a strange expression skewing his slightly plain yet handsome features. “What?” she snapped, and Tedric shrugged.

  Lorian slipped into the clearing moments later, his expression set into one of cool and stony indifference. Finriel glanced at Tedric again to find the commander’s brown eyes dancing between her and Lorian with slight concern. He paused as their eyes met, and he gave a nod of feigned casualness.

  After a few minutes of shuffling around and gathering their belongings, the companions scrambled out of the safe enclosure and headed out in the direction of the chimera, according to Finriel’s map. Finriel still held the map between her hands, staring down at it in concentration. Hours had passed and she hadn’t spoken to anyone since her conversation with Lorian, and she still felt no desire to speak at all. She glanced back at the thief, who was walking a few paces behind her, to find him looking straight ahead over her shoulder. She whirled back toward the map, her cheeks and temper burning.

  The things he had told her didn’t make the burning hatred she felt toward him lessen, in fact, they made things worse. She didn’t know what to think, and her mind whirled as she tried to guess what he was about to say before Tedric had cut him off. No matter how much she tried to deny it, there had to be something more to the story. Perhaps he wasn’t lying and truly was unable to come back to rescue her after he supposedly went to find help. But why hadn’t anyone come to her aid aside from Nora? She winced as her jaw popped, and she realized she was grinding her teeth together in thought.

  8

  Tedric

  Silence enveloped
the companions as they made their way through dense thickets of emerald brush and clearings of soft grass and wildflowers. Their surroundings felt blurred, and Tedric was beginning to think that Millris Forest was simply one large dream.

  Tedric walked by Lorian’s side, the thief’s face molded into a mask of nonchalance, though Tedric could sense the tension radiating from him. Tedric glanced up at Finriel, who walked in front of him once again, and watched her usually fluid movements now jerky and stiff. She was clearly in a bad mood, and curiosity prickled at Tedric’s insides. He couldn’t seem to figure out what had happened between them, but it was now clear that they had past business that hadn’t been resolved. He sighed and looked away from Finriel, forcing his mind back to the present moment. It was not his place to pry into their business, and he would not speak of their relationship unless one of them brought it up first. He was the Commander of the Ten, not a gossip.

  “What made you decide to become a warrior?” Aeden asked from Tedric’s side, making him jump.

  He hadn’t heard her approach, and he met a beautiful smile that nearly shocked him as much as her silent arrival at his side. Her green eyes flashed as he attempted a half-smile in return, and he quickly looked forward again, his insides feeling oddly tight.

  “I grew up in a very poor sector of Crimson City, and my father has been a raging drunk since I can remember. I worked as a stable hand in the main city and soon became the one providing for both me and my father. I was eleven years old when I discovered the training grounds of the Ten and began watching their sessions whenever I had a free moment. After a few months, the previous commander of the Ten took notice of me and I became his student. I trained and fought with them for four years before they accepted me into their ranks at fifteen, and the Ten briefly turned into the Eleven. When Commander Eldron died, the Red King appointed me as the new commander of the Ten, and I have tried to fill that role ever since.”

  Aeden remained silent through Tedric’s story, and he felt her eyes on him again when he stopped.

  “And what of your mother?”

  Tedric shrugged. “My memory of her is faint. She died when I was four, which likely is the reason why my father turned to the bottle.”

  Aeden inclined her head. “My mother died when I was young as well, though part of me wishes that I had known her only briefly, as you knew yours.”

  “Why is that?” Tedric asked.

  “Her death was an atrocious thing, and it changed my relationship with my father in an unfortunate way. He’s become a terrible man.”

  Tedric raised his brows and looked at Aeden, her gentle face screwed up in anger.

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” he offered. “Loss can change one in strange ways.”

  Aeden chuckled and shook her head. “My father has done things that would make even the most evil man question his methods. Yet, I believe that he’s always been this way and my mother’s death only helped him realize it.”

  Tedric didn’t know why, but he found himself placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. Aeden’s eyes widened and she opened her mouth, yet no words were spoken. The tightness in Tedric’s chest squeezed, and he withdrew his hand. He didn’t understand it, but he felt like he knew her. He’d never felt so comfortable telling his story to anyone, let alone a stranger.

  Lorian cursed and Tedric whipped his head around to find the thief behind a tree not more than five paces away. Lorian motioned for Tedric to stop, and Finriel pressed herself against a tree. Krete was at Aeden’s other side in the blink of an eye, his expression filled with concern.

  “What are you all afraid of?” Tedric asked in confusion.

  Krete pointed directly ahead, and Tedric searched the thick trees for what his companions had seen. His mouth opened in awe as his eyes landed on the sight ahead. He wasn’t sure how he hadn’t noticed the four fairies dancing and chanting, their melodic voices now carrying through the still air.

  “That’s not good,” Aeden hissed under her breath.

  “Who are they?” Tedric asked, keeping his voice in a low whisper.

  “They’re Sythril. They have the ability to see into the future, as well as learn prophecies from the four goddesses. The dance they are doing is one of the methods they use to tap into their abilities. It is a morning ritual that allows them to see how future events will unfold.”

  “That’s a good thing, isn’t it?” Lorian whispered, and Aeden shot him a look.

  “How could it be a good thing? Sythril aren’t only fortune tellers, but also tricksters. They tell the future in riddles and puzzles, and it can be enough to send a man into madness trying to unravel what’s been said.”

  “Sounds like company I would enjoy to be in,” Lorian replied, slightly more relaxed. “Those sorts of people are useful in my line of work.”

  Aeden froze, and Tedric brought his attention back to the Sythril, who had now stopped their dance and odd chanting. Tedric’s mouth went dry as they simultaneously turned their heads toward the companions.

  “This is not going to end well,” Krete whispered under his breath.

  “What can we do?” Finriel asked urgently, coming from behind the tree with Nora to join Krete’s side.

  The Sythril were almost upon the companions now, and Tedric’s hand drifted instinctively to the hilt of his longsword.

  “Don’t,” Aeden hissed, her eyes sliding to Tedric’s hand with a sharp shake of her head. She lifted her eyes to meet his questioning gaze and whispered, “Sythril hate all violence, even the kind that is caused in order to create peace. If they see that you are threatening them in any way, they will magic our brains into pudding before we take our next breath.”

  Frustration coiled around Tedric’s stomach, but he dropped his hand as the fairies finally reached them. The Sythril were beautiful, even the single male fairy standing among them was unnervingly good looking. Their features were round and soft, unlike Aeden’s sharp angles. Their long thick lashes exaggerated identical almond-shaped eyes. They looked like perfect images of each other, all save the female fairy who stood at the front.

  Her long, snow white tresses that tumbled in waves around her slim figure gave her a serene and godly glow. Tedric nearly reached for his sword again when he looked into her unnatural eyes. One was soft red, glowing as if from a fire within. The other, however, was a stark black, as if the pupil had swallowed up the rest of her iris. Tedric noticed that she was also the tallest of the group, and seemed to tower over even his tall frame.

  The lead Sythril considered the five companions, examining each of them until her gaze fell upon Aeden. Her head tilted to the side as she noticed who, or rather what, Aeden was.

  “A fairy within the company of a witch, a gnome, a human, and a halfbreed. What a very odd sight indeed,” the Sythril began. Her voice was soft and melodic as she continued, “If I had not already seen this would come to pass, I would have been shocked, alarmed even, at this sight.”

  The three Sythril behind her nodded in agreement and Tedric bristled, attempting to ignore the strange shiver that ran down his spine at the sudden cold breeze that enveloped them.

  “What do you mean?” Tedric ordered. “We don’t have a halfbreed in our company.”

  The lead Sythril tilted her head back and laughed, the sound similar to wind chimes. Tedric did not laugh, and he did not understand either.

  “Halfbreeds are incredibly rare,” Tedric reasoned, attempting to keep his voice even. “Magic-bearing creatures like witches, fairies, and elves mixed with human blood is a terrible idea. Halfbreeds are typically half mad by the time they’re full grown, and if they don’t end their lives, they typically become—” he broke off, realization suddenly dawning upon him. He turned to look at Lorian, who was staring at his worn boots as if they held the secret to how they would capture the beasts.

  The lead Sythril smiled and inclined her head with another sweet laugh.

  “It is common for your kind to trust and be completely ignorant of the
details of important people in your company,” the Sythril said, “but since the topic has only now been breached, I will let the future weave its own path.”

  “You may find what I’m about to say as odd, but our business is none of your concern and we must be on our way,” Aeden said with a hint of urgency in her voice.

  “We know of your business,” the Sythril replied, her expression turning solemn. “I am afraid that your quest is one of great peril.”

  Tedric stepped forward. “What do you mean?”

  The four Sythril turned to him and, as one, closed their eyes. Tedric tensed as they took in a breath in unison and an explosion of small lights cascaded into the air as they exhaled. The small twinkling lights stilled in the air as Tedric watched, and the fairies began to speak as one body.

  “Blood is coming. The age of peace has come to an end and the time of war has returned. A game has begun, and the lives of many are now held in the balance.”

  Tedric stood paralyzed as he listened to the fairies’ words and watched, enraptured, as the lights began to swirl and move around them, pulsing and brushing across their faces, clothing, and hair as they went. The lights pulsed brighter, and Tedric suddenly realized that they were stars. Nora lifted her head toward the stars and sneezed as her large nose came into contact with one of the small glittering orbs.

  “Some players of this game are not who they seem, and you will all feel the sharp pain of betrayal when the serpent is revealed.” The Sythrils’ voices died down into a whisper. “One of the key’s deaths will be foretold by the Youl. This death will be made and unmade by the one who spun it to be true.”

  Lorian snorted and turned away. “This is ridiculous, we should go.”

  “Wait,” Finriel hissed, grabbing his arm tightly. Her eyes were transfixed by the fairies and swirling stars, and Tedric watched Lorian’s face pale as he looked upon her hand clasped around his arm.

  “This is probably exactly what they want, Finriel,” Lorian replied coolly. “They want to stall us so that the chimera can sneak up on us and rip us to shreds.”