by Linn Tesli
Too tired to respond, Everine slumped to the ground, still cradling Ayva in her arms. Birken untied the various supplies from his body, dumping it all at his feet. He picked up a small knife and turned his head back for a quick glance before he disappeared into the trees.
His voice reached her from out of sight, “Be back in a hammer’s beat!”
He reappeared a few minutes later with a couple of dead hares in his hands, along with a collection of various greenery.
Everine sifted through Birken’s findings while he played with Ayva’s nose.
“You do know most of these greens are inedible?” Everine shook her head before discovering a plant that stood out from the others. She brightened. “Ah, now this I can use.”
“Told you I was no cook,” Birken mumbled from behind his hands, which were folded over his face. “Boo! Here I am, Ayva. Had a hard time finding me now, didn’t you?” He was making funny faces and playing peekaboo with the newborn.
Ayva giggled with excitement to Everine’s amazement. She had already developed so much. Ayva was certainly nothing like any other child.
The game continued until Everine had finished preparing their meal. She was proud of the accomplishment as she served what she thought was a meal fit for noble folk. She had skinned the hares and cooked them to perfection. Then, she had roasted the nuts and seasoned everything with the one usable herb Birken had found, as well as a couple of others she had bought in Arvaex
Ayva fell asleep instantly as Birken laid her down on a bed of moss he had created. “She truly is something else, isn’t she?” He marveled at her.
“In truth, I don’t know what she is.” Everine sighed and leaned back, resting her body on a nearby linden trunk. “Have you travelled a lot in Aradria, Birk?”
“Yes, I certainly have. Not many places I haven’t seen.” He pulled out his pipe and lit it.
Everine bit her lip before asking her next question. “Still, you have never seen anything like her anywhere, have you?”
He shook his head. “On my travels? Can’t say I have, though she does remind me of something from the stories of old. But those are children’s stories.”
Everine was somewhat disappointed with his reply. It would have been a comfort to learn more about what Ayva was, but she found she rather enjoyed the Earthling’s companionship nonetheless.
“You read children’s stories?” Everine grinned.
“Every now and then, yes.” Birken narrowed his eyes. “Lately, not so much.”
She laid herself down beside the tree trunk. “Tell me one, please, Birk?”
Birken studied the carvings on his pipe for a while, and then closed his eyes. He started with a story about the Earthlings’ betrayal of the Elemental Rule during the time of the Fall and their futile search for redemption. Everine pulled the buckskin over her tired body and listened to the sound of Birken’s voice until her eyelids dropped.
3
Yirin’s Glade
- Everine –
They were already back on the path, hiking deeper into Elfen Lyconis, as the sun rose. Birken wished to reach their next stop before midday. The Caradrean borders were still days ahead of them, however.
By the time the sun filled the sky, the forest had opened up to reveal a spacious glade. Dense tree trunks encircled the area, and the thick crowns of the trees extended to touch each other.
Birken inhaled sharply, flaring his nostrils. “We’re here.”
Straight ahead, in the middle of the glade, stood a small, wooden cottage. Everine was primarily interested, however, in the rows of well-maintained stables that lay next to it. It was a relief to think she might get to rest her feet for the remainder of their journey. Ayva was small, but it was still a strain on Everine to constantly carry her while walking.
As they approached the cottage, Birken halted and eyed Everine seriously. “Now, I need you to be…not you, alright? I mean, let me speak and make yourself as invisible as you possibly can.” He smiled and added, “Though, I realize that will be hard.”
Everine’s exhaustion left her glad to slip into the background, but she couldn’t help huffing a little and pursing her lips in annoyance. A rumble of amusement issued from Birken’s chest. He quickly recovered his composure, however, and knocked on the arched wooden door.
A husky voice bid them to enter.
The door opened into a circular space with an immense central hearth. The faint smell of resin and spruce wafted through the air. A round table and a few wooden chairs stood in front of the fire. A wild elven woman sat upon one of these. Everine’s heart leaped as she beheld the strange sight.
The Elf was tall, her body athletic, and her skin carried an oily, olive sheen. She wore only a small scrap of a top, which appeared more like a brassiere, along with a pair of fitted trousers.
Her attire was constructed entirely of moss, twigs, leaves, and twisted vines. The vines in her top travelled up behind her neck where they were woven into her long, raven-black hair. They snaked out around her head to form an elegant headpiece.
She stood and gestured for them to come closer. “Birken, dear. Back so soon?”
“Yirin.” Birken smiled generously. “You look well. It really has been a long while since last I saw you.”
“Seems like the blink of an eye to me.” Yirin extended her arm as they approached her. Her nose was slightly aquiline, and her eyes were a soft cinnamon-brown.
Birken bent to kiss the proferred hand in much the same manner as he had with Everine when they first met. Everine didn’t appreciate how he kissed Yirin one bit, though she thought it was probably some kind of custom he followed. Neither did she like the way the Earthling and the Elf had kept her completely out of the exchange of proper greetings thus far.
“We’re going to need a couple of your strongest steeds, my beaut,” Birken said.
“Flattery will only get you across the doorstep.” Yirin tilted her head, her eyes sweeping up and down Birken’s body, inspecting the various belongings strapped to him. “What have you got for me in return?”
“I found something interesting while visiting the towers of Njordhall.” He searched through one of the satchels he was wearing. “I figured it must be of interest to you. Ah, there it is.” Birken pulled his hand out of the satchel and presented a giant seashell. Curious, Everine peeked past his arm.
The shell was the size of his hand, and its marbled surface shone in a range of purples and pinks. Yirin accepted it and carefully opened the shell to uncover the largest coral-pink pearl Everine had ever seen resting in its nucleus. Pale light emanated from the pearl, casting watery shadows to dance along the walls of the room.
“For this,” said Yirin, “I will throw in some arms as well. You look like you have only packed the very essentials for you and your…” The Elf nodded in Everine’s direction, finally acknowledging her presence. Everine instinctively wrapped her arms across her chest where Ayva slumbered out of sight.
Birken shrugged. “Her? Not worth your time. Just a swindler from Caradrea. Thought she could make some coin hustling men in Lycobris. I am taking her back where she belongs.”
Everine clenched her fists until her fingernails dug into her skin. Yirin squinted at her. In the end, her nostrils blew out and her thin lips parted into a frown before she dismissed Everine once more.
Clearly, the wild elven woman cared nothing for those who hustled their way through life. Yirin gestured for Birken to follow her outside as she walked toward the door. Everine sighed and fell into step with Birken.
“You may choose what weapons you need from the armory.” Yirin shifted her shoulders to indicate the direction in which the armory lay. “Once you are decided on your arms, you may leave with any two of the yellow, black, or silver mares or stallions from the furthest stable.” Yirin stroked Birken’s chest lightly with the flat of her hand as she spoke.
He smirked. “I appreciate it. We’ll be out of your vines in no time.”
“Always
a pleasure, Earthling. If there is nothing more I can do for you today, I bid you farewell.” She winked and stretched herself luxuriously on the balls of her feet with her arms raised above her head, after which she strutted over to a nearby bench.
To Everine’s surprise, Yirin picked up a long-handled pipe, similar to Birken’s own, from the seat and lit it. Birken chuckled as he took Everine’s arm and led her to the back of the stables.
The armory was hardly modest. It was bigger than Everine’s house in Beregend had been. The wooden beams were carved to perfection with intricate patterns, crafted with Elven skills. The symbols sculpted into the wood featured a variety of animals, from bobcats, to gryphons, and foxes, and paid special tribute to the elements of fire and air. Rows of weapons racks of different sizes stood evenly placed throughout the space.
Everine didn’t know the first thing about choosing weapons for combat, but she had used a bow to hunt for food in the past, and her aim was fairly good.
Ayva stirred, and Everine loosened her garments to allow the baby a look at the armory. Her small head turned this way and that before looking back at Everine. The tips of her tiny fingers landed on Everine’s cheek, and Ayva beamed. Images of Everine and Aurora stringing their bows together appeared within Ayva’s irises, and Everine’s own eyes filled with tears.
She remembered well the lessons of the hunt, which she and Aurora had been taught by their father when they were young. Everine shut out the memories and selected a bow and a matching quiver filled with arrows that had caught her eye. She also helped herself to a dagger and a one-handed sword in its sheath.
Birken took a couple of daggers, an axe, and a two-handed great sword and a matching sheath that he fastened on his belt. The great sword would have been completely unmanageable for anyone of ordinary size. In his grip, however, it looked exactly right. Weighing the sword in his hands, he gave it a swing and sheathed it.
“Now, let’s decide who our new traveling companions will be,” he said, seeing that Everine was finished. Eyes glimmering with excitement, he hurried her out of the door toward the furthest stables.
Everine had not been prepared for what faced her inside. The sweet smell of lime and honey overshadowed the scent of fresh cut hay. The stable featured two rows of spacious stalls and the high ceiling displayed a series of arched windows, which allowed the sunlight to illuminate the room of red timber.
The stalls had been built with great care. Each was delicately hand-decorated with crisp carvings that echoed those in the armory. And within each stall stood a magical creature of old. Everine’s eyes widened at the sight, and her lips spread out into a smile.
At first they looked merely like extraordinarily big horses, but the horns on their foreheads betrayed them for what they were. As long as Everine’s arm and glowing gently, the horns shimmered with all the colors of the rainbow.
“Unicorns!” Everine whispered.
“Incredible, aren’t they? When you pick yours, you’ll need to look for one with a spirit like your own, else there’s no way it’ll allow you on its back.”
“How am I supposed to do that?” Everine muttered to herself.
Ayva made little sounds of discomfort, and Everine unbound her to allow her meet the unicorns. Birken moved down the row of stalls.
Everine lifted Ayva close to the nearest unicorn so they could both get a proper look at the magnificent creature. Ayva’s eyes shone.
The silver unicorn in front of them tossed his chalk-white mane and snorted with annoyance. He turned his rump to them and flapped his tail in their faces. Ayva grunted and stretched her arms towards another stall.
They went over to greet a yellow unicorn three stalls down with a golden mane and syrup-brown eyes. Ayva leaned close to touch this one as well. The mare looked friendly enough. The scarlet horn protruding from its forehead immediately started glowing as Ayva placed her hand on its muzzle. The mare whinnied with delight, and Everine couldn’t deny a distinct feeling of familiarity.
“Birken,” she called. “Ayva found our unicorn.”
“Good. I just met mine.” He stood on the opposite side of the aisle, further down the row of stalls, petting a black stallion. Everything he had carried lay in a heap on the ground at his feet. He returned to the back wall of the stall to collect the stallion’s saddle.
Everine wrapped Ayva against her chest once more, and began readying her unicorn for travel. She had finished strapping on the last of the saddlebags when a bevy of heavy footsteps sounded from outside the stable. Loud voices issued from somewhere near the cottage.
Yirin’s angered voice pierced through the clamor. Everine heard her command the newcomers to leave her horses alone.
Fear ensnared Everine.
Birken held one finger to his lips and signaled her to stay put. Folding her arms over Ayva, Everine hunched down in the far corner beside her mare.
The doors of the stable flew open.
A rough voice filled the building. “Creos, I struck gold.”
Everine crouched down further and watched as two pairs of silver-colored feet joined one another at the stable doors. Silverlings! The worst possible Devlings she could have encountered in all of Aradria.
“Only got horses, eh? Hiding unicorns from the king is a punishable offense. I’ll make sure the Elf knows. Round them up, Kiros. About time we returned home.” Creos’s voice thundered between the stalls. “I would say we ought to be well-rewarded for our efforts, brother.”
Cruel laughter sent chills running through Everine’s body. Creos went back outside, and two others joined Kiros.
Everine turned to search for Birken. Her heart sank at the sight of the empty space five stalls down where his unicorn had been. Her mind raced, and Everine tried to steady herself with her breathing. Ayva snorted and raised her eyes to Everine’s. Everine shook her head and shushed Ayva, strapping her cloak tighter around her chest, covering the baby completely.
When she looked up again, a Silverling glared at Everine from the aisle. He dropped his shining, white helmet to the ground and licked his sapphire-blue lips. He didn’t bother calling for the others as he entered the stall.
“Shh—stay still, and it will be over before you know it.” His devious demeanor and the coldness in his voice raised the hairs on her skin. Everine was trapped.
Like the rest of his kin, his body was hairless and silver-colored. Symbols, once burned into his flesh, had left ivory scars covering his scalp, arms, and legs. Shiny, white armor revealed him as one of the Zila’r-nath—a member of the Silverling army, the king’s very own league of mercenaries.
He was almost the height of Birken, though their features differed greatly. The Silverling’s broad shoulders portrayed strength, despite his slender figure. Everine pressed herself against the wall.
The Silverling appraised her with cruel, purple eyes. Moving with quick strides, he reached out toward Everine. As he bent forward, however, the mare neighed, turned, and kicked the Silverling straight in the head with her back feet. He was hurled toward the wall before he slid to the floor next to Everine.
His face was crushed. Nausea surged up in Everine, but she swallowed back her repulsion. She stroked one shaking hand over her cloak where Ayva was hidden. She had to keep a clear head if she was going to be able to protect the baby. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply before she retrieved the dagger from her boot.
Quick footsteps pounded the ground before another Silverling appeared outside the stall. His purple eyes stared blankly at his fallen companion.
“Milos is dead,” he called. “The unicorn did him in.” Displaying a row of gleaming white teeth, he raised his voice again. “There is a woman in here.”
“Deal with it,” someone replied icily from out of sight.
The Silverling shrugged, reached within his chest armor and pulled out a dagger. He was lighter on his feet than the other had been. The mare tried to kick him, but he avoided her with ease.
Latching on to Everine’
s wrist, he pulled her to him and kept her in front of him as a shield as he dragged her out of the stall. Everine kicked and squirmed to no avail.
Still gripping her wrist, the Silverling pushed Everine against the outside of the stall by her throat.
He glared at her, bits of spittle foaming at the corners of his mouth. “Such a pretty thing.” A purple tongue reached out to lick Everine’s neck as he pressed himself against her.
He put his own blade in between his teeth. Everine clutched at her dagger and raised it, but the Silverling caught her wrist as she attempted to stab his side.
Pain shot up her arm as he struck her hand hard against the wall. Everine could hear her bones snap, and the dagger fell to the ground from her limp hand.
“Fiery too.” He tightened his hold on her. “I am going to enjoy this.” Shoving his body heavily against hers, he undid his trousers with a free hand so that they fell to his knees.
His ice-cold fingers released her wrist and slipped between Everine’s thighs, lifting her skirts. The other hand moved from her neck and reached for her breasts.
Ayva cried, catching the Silverling off-guard. His eyes widened, before his head was cast backward. A set of strong, familiar hands folded around the Silverling’s head and twisted it sharply.
A loud snap sounded in Everine’s ears, and the Silverling collapsed to the ground at her feet. Birken approached her, frantically looking her up and down. His face was bruised.
“You okay, Ev? Please be okay. I’m so sorry. I got held up.”
Heat burning her cheeks, Everine patted down her skirt. She refused to cry. “Just…a minor fracture in my wrist, I think.” She feigned confidence. “Hardly worth getting your—”
Light shimmered on the edge of a knife. A Silverling ran at them, the knife pointed toward Birken’s back.
Everine wrapped one arm around Birken’s neck and pulled him into an embrace, allowing them to slide sideways. She released him before she picked up the dagger by her side with her uninjured hand, jumped to her feet, and plunged it straight between the attacker’s eyes.