by Raven Bouray
“Well.” Kelithor took out a wooden box from inside his pack. It was big enough that he needed another hand to hold it more securely but small enough that it wouldn’t have very much in it. He walked over to her and held out the box.
Emmaline reached out and grasped it with a dirty, pale hand and placed it down on the ground before removing the lid.
Her gasp was involuntary as she stared at the contents with unbelieving eyes. It was the soap and creams that she had seen at the store in the Emerald Doom. The small glass and metal containers each held a wonder to her gaze. Emmaline looked up at Kelithor and couldn’t stop the brilliant smile which had bloomed at his gift. “Thank you,” she breathed out and was overcome with the urge to hug him.
He turned away from her quickly and retreated, causing a small pang of disappointment but nonetheless it did not dampen her mood. “Ye should bathe. I will be lookin’ ahead for a while.” He gestured to one of the three paths out of this paradise. “Take as long as ye need. I will no’ spy on ye.”
“I was there at the store the whole time. How did you buy these without my knowing?” The glass bottle of soap drew her attention first, and she lifted it out of the box to remove the lid and smell the contents.
“It was nothing.” He brushed her off.
“And you won’t look at me like some sort of lecher, will you?” She knew he had said as much but she had been fawning over her gift.
“No. I am no’ lech.” He seemed offended by the idea.
And she believed him, so when he retreated from the greenery and left down one of the paths she practically ripped her clothing off to leap into the water. Expecting it to be cold, she was given quite the pleasant surprise when it was warm, as if drawn by Ryna at home. A gratified moan was all she could articulate as she sat along the edge of the water just soaking. A cloud of brown surrounded her within the first couple of minutes and she hadn’t even started to scrub yet. Disgusting.
The color of the water prompted her to move and reach for a clean cloth and the soap that smelled of fresh blueberries and cream and she scrubbed every inch of her body with vigor. The slightly roughened texture was unpleasant but at least it would get her clean again.
She looked down at her body and nothing had changed at all from when she was home. Not a thing. Except for that odd birthmark at her left side. It had grown bolder for some reason. Looking more like a tree now, still pale but defined against her skin.
Emmaline made her way to the waterfall to wash off the soap and wet her rat’s nest of hair. By the time she was done washing, her hair had been cleaned twice and the cream that made it soft had been applied twice as well with a patient and careful combing in between to remove the tangles without taking too much of her prized locks.
The water had cleared remarkably quickly for how dirty she had been and now she was resting on the side of the pool once more admiring her now pink but clean hands and fingernails.
She sighed in contentment and looked up at the sky. The sun had been at high noon when she had started and now it was most of the way across the sky. Nearly two or three hours had been spent with her washing and grooming. And her stomach took that moment to remind her that she had not eaten since the morning. It was tempting to ignore it, but she knew that Kelithor had to come back at some point and she needed to be dressed when he did.
So with a heavy heart she stepped out of the wonderful spring into the air. He had even taken out a drying cloth next to his bag. She used it liberally and opened up the skin cream in a small tin and applied it to her still slightly damp skin and twice over the scar on her leg. It had been aching and pulling more recently and now that she had the cream that would hopefully cease.
She put on a fresh breast band, even though she did not need it, and a new lavender colored shirt that actually fit her better than the one she had on before. New underclothes and breeches were followed by her boots. Everything felt so nice on her skin now that it was fresh.
The next item on the agenda was her hair, and now that it had been untangled and cleaned and conditioned, all that was left was to comb it once more and braid it up properly out of her way.
Practiced hands began the task of over, under, over all the way from the top of her head down to her back, and finally it was secured with a strip of leather that she had found in her pack.
Emmaline looked over the side of the spring at her reflection. She was back and she refused to ever be that filthy again. Ever.
She had just settled down to eat when her companion returned. He stopped abruptly when she turned to look at him. “Welcome back.”
He continued to stare at her for a few moments longer. “Did ya bathe well? Any more to whine abou’?” His tone was rougher than usual, but as the days went by, his articulation was getting better.
“Nothing at the moment, but I’ll think of something soon enough. Will you be bathing now? I promise I won’t look either.”
She heard his faint chuckle. “When ye sleep, I may.”
“Ah well, we mustn’t ruin the mystery, shall we?” She bit into more of her late lunch and turned from him to watch the water run down the rocks. “Still. Now that I’m clean, you smell terrible. If you have to wait for sleep, then that is fine, but you have to do something.”
“Yes, yes. Do ye wish to spar now that we are above ground?”
“No. I’m clean now. There is no chance that is going to change right now.” She took the last bite of her meal and turned to look at him again. “I feel much more like myself. More so than I have in a rather long while.” Arya whinnied from a very green patch of grass, munching happily on what would be a tasty treat for a horse. “You know, I don’t understand the hood. I know I fainted the first time it was taken off of you, but it must be uncomfortable under that heavy cloak all the time. You can’t possibly look that terrible.”
“Ye may be shocked.”
“Now statements like that only serve to feed my curiosity, and it is a rather insatiable beast, if you could not already tell.”
“It should no’,” he replied gruffly. “Rest up. We will be here for one more day.”
Emmaline nodded and watched as Arya left her tasty treat to wade into the water slowly. Once she was sufficiently deep enough her knees dropped from under her and she rolled through the water, splashing and snorting. Emmaline laughed at her friend’s antics as she continued to both scratch and clean her white coat, washing the dirt from her and revealing the glistening brightness underneath.
This was a good place, and Emmaline would actually be sad to leave it. She spent the rest of the day walking around and touching almost everything while Kelithor watched and waited. There was a change in the air sometime during the evening. But it was not until much later in the night when she woke from a deep sleep to find Kelithor awake and staring at the waterfall that she figured out why.
Emmaline sat up and looked over at him. “Did you hear something?”
“It was a Scyrn cat. It hunts in two or three. But it is no’ close.” He twirled something that Emmaline could not identify in the darkness from finger to finger. “Have ye always hearin’ things far from ye?”
“Yes. For as long as I can remember. Things used to keep me awake at night. Talking from a different part of the castle. The whispers of the servants. I can hear things in a busy room from across it. I’ve learned how to block it out.”
“Have ye felt odd, no’ like anyone else? Slower in though’ or in growing? Or good with plants? Faster or better agile than others?”
Emmaline merely stared at him, feeling this odd chill up her spine. “Why do you ask?”
“An’ ye are seventeen then, far pas’ the human change? An no’ a curve or spot o’ bleedin’ ta be seen, yes?”
Aside from the twinge of embarrassment at his candor when speaking of her bodily functions, the strange chill spilled over her body now. Her heart was beginning to beat all the faster. “Why--?”
“Have your ears burned o’ late? Or fel’ strange
?”
“How do you know all of that?” Her reply was breathless, and she knew her expression was one of shock and a little fear. She had always had a green thumb, able to bring plants back from a brink of death after tending, and her ears had still tingled on and off since she had been here.
“Do no’ fear. Let me tell ye. When we elves are born, we look much like human children. Roun’ ears, plump faces, short in height. One would no’ be able ta tell an elf from a human when they are young. It would be verra easy ta mix an elf an a human ‘round.”
Emmaline narrowed her eyes at him as she caught onto what he was trying to tell her, “What does that mean? That you think just because I am a little different means that I’m not human? That humans can’t have a little more than what is usual?”
He was about to reply when she cut him off with more vigor than necessary.
“That all this time, this entire time I’ve been with you, that you think I’m an elf? Is that the reason that you’ve kidnapped me from my home? Taken me on dangerous terrain, nearly starved, and so dirty that I couldn’t even see what my skin even looked like? Am I some sort of traitor or a brood mare then? Bring back the elf girl to make more elves? That is ridiculous. You must be jesting. I’m human. Fully human. I was born to Gregor and Malina D’Terin. Why would they take me from the elves? How would they even have done so? The elves’ home is magically warded. No outsiders are allowed in. Even I know that. My parents would never tell a lie to me like that. Never. And how dare you infer otherwise?”
He tried to speak again.
“No. I do not want to hear you anymore.” She turned away from him and laid back down on her blankets. Equal parts rage and confusion warred inside her. Is that why she was taken? Mistaken identity? The madness of a crazed elf? Did elves just come and kidnap girls, tell them stories and they are never heard from again? All the tales of the fae? He was mad, completely mad.
Her ever so acute hearing picked up on his soft footfalls as he walked away from her. A string of his language poured from his lips from what she assumed were curses which were most likely directed at her. Well she had a few choice and very unladylike words for him as well.
So she focused on her tree again. And let the rage seep from her body into the ground below. Anger was useless right now. She needed to sleep and forget her captor’s insane ramblings of mistaken races and lies. The sound of the water thundering onto the rocks below lulled her emotions down, and as she was just starting to relax, the tips of her ears burned, as if to taunt her.
She turned from her side to her back and stared up at the stars. Their second moon was just starting to become visible in the sky with the changing seasons. Autumn signaled its appearance in the sky, and at the start of spring, it would vanish again. Half the year, the second golden moon shone brightly in the sky, but now it was merely a shadow of it’s normal glory. She continued to stare at it until her eyes grew heavy and closed on their own.
Chapter 30
At least with the setting and rising of the sun, she knew exactly how many days had passed. It was two. Two more days yet with neither of them talking to the other at the edge of the wondrous spring. Emmaline noticed the cycle they seemed to be running in. They would be angry at each other, slowly rid themselves of it, then actually get along for a while before starting all over again. She was tired of it but couldn’t abide by his ridiculous fantasy. “Why do you think I am an elf? Me, of all people?”
“Ye do no’ believe me. So it does no’ matter.”
“Well what do you expect when you tell someone that their whole entire life is some sort of elaborate lie? You, a stranger who refuses to show me his face. I’m not stupid. And not only tell me that my life is a lie but expect me to just believe you with no proof. None.”
“Ye have a scar on your righ’ leg. A deep gash runnin’ slanted down the outside o’ it.”
“I told you about that,” she accused but paused. Had she?
“Ye did no’. But I still ken it be there.”
Emmaline’s cheeks color with sudden mortification. “You watched me bathe. You liar and letcher.” Her high pitched voice carried in the canyon, and she attempted to kick him. Unsuccessfully, damn him.
“Do no’ call me tha,” he growled back at her and stopped to turn toward her. His hood lifted in a resemblance of eye contact. “Ye also ‘ave a mark on ye tha’ may be faded. Tha’ o’ a tree, white and dead. Thin’s happen around ye to those who may have angered ye. Clothin’ trapped ‘round feet causing a fall, or a tree root jus’ high enough to trip o’er. A dead or dyin’ plant growing again after ye tend it. Any o’ tha’ sound known?”
Emmaline could only stare at him slack jawed. All of it was familiar to her. And that only caused more confusion. How could he be right about all the rest of it? Jacen Calgen had been tripped by a stray tree root that had not been there when she had run past it while escaping his hair pulling and teasing. A particularly rude girl had tripped over her own gown despite it being well out of the way of her feet. Each event was cataloged at the back of her mind. Coincidences. Blind luck. But the way he said it implied it was somehow because of her. “How--?”
“Ye sound a bit less doubtin’ now, yes? But when we stop for the nigh’, we talk.”
Emmaline was never very skilled at waiting. Patience had not been in her skill set previously, but now there was an energy that had not been there before. It tingled through her body just under her skin in a way that amplified the sensation that was already present.
When darkness descended and he stopped them for the night, it took everything she had not to jump on him for his promised answers. Instead she watched him with a faint air of surprise while he collected odd sticks from the roots that grew along the canyon edges and moss from the walls, things that were needed to build a fire. She sat down and watched as he worked, stroking Arya absentmindedly while he struck flint and stone to spark up a small ember into a sizable small fire. After the fire was strong and bright, he picked up stones to arrange around it. There were small pillars that looked like they were designed to hold something upon them. He placed a small pot perfectly atop the structure. It was then that he motioned her over. “Water,” he requested.
She uncorked the lid to her waterskin, and fresh water flowed in a steady stream into the metal pot and did so until he told her to stop with yet another hand motion. She put the cork back on and carried the still full skin back to her knapsack. He pulled items out of his sack and cut each with skill and precision, placing them in the water along with powders and herbs. He was making a stew, or maybe a soup. Emmaline watched him with interest, as she did not have much experience with the making of food, merely the consumption of it. Even her interest did little to soothe her nervous demeanor.
The scent of warm food wafted around them, and her stomach rumbled loudly. She silenced the errant organ with a firm hand pressed into it and a blush. As the evening transformed to night, he brought out two bowls and spoons and poured the soup into each. While he was cooking, she had moved closer to the fire, and he handed her the wooden bowl then took a seat across from her and the fire.
Not a word passed between them until after the soup cooled and was consumed. Emmaline hummed at the vivid but delicate flavor of the vegetable soup on her palate as starved as it had been. Her belly rumbled lightly, just to let her know that it had to have more of the delicious food that she had fed to it. Instead of asking for more right away, she decided to wait.
Her eyes snapped to him when he took a deep breath. “My name is Kelithor Thallenon. I was birthed in the city o’ Faralie, jus’ o’erlookin’ the sea. My mother and father did no’ have riches, but we had more than some. They were potters and dishmakers. I was likely going ta follow. But I did no’. I was given a different life. Twas one that brough’ up my family name, chosen fer a good purpose. One with honor and such power and ‘cause o’ it, my mother and father had more respect, status an’ in a way more freedom. E’erythin’ I did was for them. It
was only a few years after tha’ things changed again. But it was no’ for the better. No’ in the leas’ bit. Now I can fix things after breakin’ them and failin’.”
Emmaline was watching him intently, picking up the slight hitch of his breath when he mentioned his parents and the remorse when he spoke of fixing things.
“Ye are no’ wha’ I expected when I first saw ye. I hoped ye would remember the longer we stayed wit’ each other. I never told quite how it works. Do ye remember when they too’ my hood off?”
Emmaline nodded.
“Tha’ I did no’ expect.Ye collapsed and again in the tavern, ye almost did again. But I want ta try again now. Ye are right. Why should ye believe a man who will no’ show ye his eyes so ye can see a lie if one is ta’ be told?” He lifted a gloved hand to the side of his hood and grasped it tightly.
Emmaline could not help but lean forward slightly while almost trembling with newfound anticipation. But as he pulled, her vision started to dim and she tried to shake it off. She would not faint again. No. He stopped his reveal short of his visage and started to pull it forward again. “No. Keep going,” she whispered determinedly.