by Raven Bouray
“Killin’ it.”
“No. Why would you kill it?”
“This is a Dire Wolf. It is a beast o’ magic. It must be killed.”
“Can’t we just knock it out or put it to sleep or something?” Emmaline had no real idea why she was trying to defend a creature that just a few moments ago was trying to kill her. But she abhorred violence and killing so she felt compelled to do so.
“No. This will hunt us until we die. It only sees prey.”
“But--.”
“No. I will no’ hear more o’ it. It will bring more and it will kill us.” The harsh tone greeted her ears. “At times, there is no choice in it. Ye must kill or be killed.”
“There’s always a choice. You said that you wouldn’t kill a creature for just existing.”
“No’ today. This one will come back fer us. Take Arya back a ways if ye do no’ want ta see this,” he ordered, and she glared at him before turning from him and hopping back atop Arya to walk the horse back down the path. She left the snarling creature to its fate but still felt ill for doing so. She brought her hands up to cover her ears and closed her eyes and she had no idea how long she stayed like that until she felt a presence behind her.
She dropped her hands from her ears and opened her eyes to greet Kel who spoke no words but turned away and began to walk back down the path.
Emmaline sighed and glared at him before nudging Arya with her knees and coaxing her to follow. As they travelled and Emmaline was sure that they were indeed going the same way as before, she saw no signs of the viney cage, nor blood, nor corpse of wolf. But she was also unsure how long exactly she had been sitting and waiting. Perhaps long enough to dispose of corpse and cut away dry vines but she decided to not think too long of it.
She did, however, notice that the sun was brighter than usual here and despite the chill she felt the happiness that light could bring and in doing so came up with a mischievous plan.
While she watched him to determine the right time to spring her trap, she noticed that he seemed distracted. By what exactly she did not know, but even while hooded, she knew more of his moods than looking some others in the eye.
Edging her mount closer to his back, ever so carefully and gently, she swung her body forward and with a finesse built from hours with a needle and thread, plucked the hood back from his head and released it downward. The fabric bunched around the base of his skull, and she leaned backwards as if she had never moved at all.
His response was one of surprise as he whipped around to stare at her in shock. The effect on his angular face coupled with the vicious scar running down his neck tore a chuckle from her throat. She could swear for a moment, just one, that amusement flashed across dark green eyes, but too soon, he turned back around but did not try to replace the hood. Small victories.
With mood lightened, she decided to test the waters of conversation and bring up a subject that had taken them both sorely the other night. “So. Let us say I believe your outlandish tale about elves and that I am one of you. Why in Muliera’s name would you come all the way south, as far south as one can go before the dwarven mountains, to retrieve me? How would you even know where I was? And if you had known all this time why wait until now to fetch me? Would it not have been better when I was a child?”
“Tha’ is no’ an answer I can give ye. Ye will learn soon enough but know tha’ ye were no’ supposed ta be here at all. Things happened tha’ should no’ have and ye ended up where ye did.”
“That only serves to give me more questions. What happened? Don’t you people have enough women? What would one more make a difference to? If I am an elf, as you say, and I still think you are mad, would I change all at once like the shifters or the mages?”
His half turn and cocked brow of incredulity made her feel foolish. “No. It is much like human changes. Slow. It can take up ta five years or so ta change. Or as few as a month or so.”
“Oh.” She was about to say something more when something in the distance caught her eye. With the light shining down on them from a brighter sun and a lessening of the fog, she was able to make out some kind of structure made of wood with a large platform, which reminded her much of the rickety thing they had rode down here on. Three weeks in this dismal, dark, colorless place which held monsters and strange power and caused her skin to itch and tingle constantly and she was finally going to leave it. A squeal of delight echoed around her as she shifted on her mount, tapping heels to withers. Arya lunged forward, darting around Kelithor as he walked steadily and slowly forward and into a fast canter towards her goal. Upon reaching it, she noticed at once that it looked by far studier and more stable than its twin on the opposite shore. Arya danced and pawed at the ground, excited by Emmaline’s enthusiasm but despite this when she turned to look back at the path, she found Kelithor still walking too slowly. “Come along. You need to move faster.”
“Ye would do well ta learn patience, bídhara ceanni. Ye may no’ like what ye find if ye move with too much haste.”
“I think you are old and slow,” she taunted lightly but received only a snort in return and still he continued his slow pace until he reached the lift. When he stood next to her, she turned from him to examine the apparatus and gave a squeak and jerk in sharp pain as the meat of her thigh was pinched and released in short order. “Ouch,” she whined. “What was that for?”
“Stop actin’ a child, and I shall no’ have to punish ye as such. Now ye need to drop from Arya and aid me.”
“How?”
“It is easier with two to use this one. Now go there and keep this steady.” He gestured to right side of the platform and the strange pulley it carried.
Emmaline dismounted and lead Arya onto the platform before doing as he instructed.
Kelithor moved over to the opposite end where two levers stood and cranked the front lever a few times before the platform groaned and creaked with the gears giving a loud screech. A shudder accompanied the raising of wood from the ground, and Emmaline stood at the side using her own hand to steady the ropes that moved to raise them up from the depths of the underworld into the full light of day.
Chapter 32
Ascending from the ground beneath into bright midday sun brought forth a grimace and brief whine of pain as she covered her eyes with an elbow. The lift beneath her feet shuddered to a halt and swung lightly in the air as it settled against the cusp of the cliff. She tried to blink as bright spots danced in her vision both with eyes open and shut. She continued to fight with the brightness when a firm hand closed around her upper arm and lead her stumbling off of the platform onto solid ground. The wind blew across her body and face with welcoming coolness and freshness that she drew greedily into her lungs. Arya followed with steady hoofbeats behind her and a fresh nicker while his hand continued to rest lightly on her arm. “I can’t see. This is ridiculous.”
“Eyes be tender fro’ fog and lack o’ sun, as well as other thin’s. If ye are in need o’ a hood, then ye have one atop ye cloak.”
“I don’t have my cloak on me, as you can very well see.”
“Ah. True. Wait a moment,” he murmured to her, and she felt his grasp fall from her arm then heard him walk away and shift cloth and leather with buckles until the light weight of wool fell upon her shoulders . Emmaline reached back with eyes still shut for her hood and when her hand grasped it, she pulled it forward and shielded her face in welcoming darkness. Spots still danced when she opened her eyes, but the glare was less and she was at least able to see the ground, if not much else. “Better?”
“Much. Thank you.”
“Good.”
The ground was sparsely covered in rock and reedy brush, and the more she stared, the less her vision bothered her. Looking up from the ground, she turned to where Kelithor stood and found him similarly hooded but not as deeply as he once was. She could still see chin and cheek from beneath the wool and it gladened her for some reason. “Where are we?”
“I do no’ know f
or sure. South an’ east o’ the largest city.” He gestured in one direction, but even as she looked, she couldn’t see anything in the distance so she took his word as truth. They were still far from help and home.
“Will we go then as the crow flies?”
“More or less. It be a few days no matter how we go, but we will no’ go ‘round men or towns as before.We go toward north.” He paused and he looked to her. “Do ye need ta rest?”
“No.”
“Then mount an’ we shall go.”
She turned to Arya to do as he bid but stopped with question, “Could I walk rather than ride?”
His chin tilted further and one green eye pierced through with surprise. “If ye wish.” But he offered her no further words as he began walking forward.
Emmaline took up a few steps behind him and gestured for Arya to follow with a click of her tongue. The horse for the first time was without a rider in weeks but did not seem troubled or relieved by the turn of events and plodded along behind them. As they walked, she would occasionally nose Emmaline’s back playfully.
It was not until much later, as darkness neared, that she found out that walking over long distances was tiring and painful if one was not accustomed to it. Which may have been why he had her ride but that was of no consequence now. She had already made her choice and now with her feet aching and body tired, she continued on, but at least with the walk they had left the Barren Wilds far behind and entered into a grassy hillocks and fertile plain. When they stopped, she all but fell upon the ground in fatigue and brought feet up to remove her boots from them.
The rising moon covered them in faint light, and she took in what was found with a sigh. Red, swollen, and painful soles greeted her hands. If she were home, they would be put to a mineral bath as all her aching muscles used to be when she had them. As it stood now, there was no warm water or mineral salts to ease her but she knew that rubbing them may also achieve a similar relief.
And so small fingers set to work on the soles of one of her feet, digging and circling with intent. At first, it only increased the ache, but after a while, it began to feel better.
“Do ye need any aid?”
Her eyes lifted to find his angled, scarred face with a strange expression directed to her. One that she did not know the emotion for. “Rubbing my feet?” She could not help the incredulity that dripped from her tone as she looked him over. Although one should not look a gift horse in the mouth as the merchants would say. “I suppose so if you wish to.”
Kelithor sat down next to her and took off his cloak, resting it carefully onto the ground before taking her neglected foot in hand. Gloved fingers worked slowly and with surprising gentleness, considering the vigor and strength with which he handled his swords. Gentle, then firmer, they moved and pushed inward. His fingers were lean, and she relaxed into them with a soft sigh while she worked her other foot still. Though his touch was that of innocence, it began to spark something warm within her, travelling from foot to somewhere in her belly. It made her feel ever uncomfortable, and she shifted while her face heated. It felt good, but she did not wish to make a fool of herself and so she managed to get out a half whispered, but strained, “Thank you.” And extracted her foot from his grasp with a half smile.
He returned smile with his gaze and at last he seemed more content than guilty. “Feel better then?”
“Yes.” She nodded and stretched out her legs before she spoke again, “So you feel well without cloak and hood but do not remove your gloves? Why?”
And yet again somehow she chose exactly the wrong words to say as the good humor faded from his eyes and he dropped them to look down at his gloved hands, flexing and relaxing the leather. “My face is no’ the only place I have scars. My hands did no’ escape uninjured, nor did most of my body. I would rather ye not run screaming from me again. It becomes tiring ta have ta chase ye down and odd ta see ye gagged.”
“I did not run from your face when revealed to me. You are not as ugly as you seem to think yourself. As if you were forged in Nyxa’s underworld, a monster to be feared and reviled. Ugliness is not only skin deep. I know some whose souls are monstrous and faces shine with beauty. Those are the ones who frighten me, not you.”
“Wise words ye have.” He gave a small huff which could be mistaken for a sound of amusement.
“And I’ll ignore the surprise dripping from yours.” She sighed and stood, limping slightly as she walked to unlatch her blanket from across Arya’s back, giving the white mare a rub to the forehead. “How in the gods names do you walk so long?”
“Ye become used to it after a time.”
“Well how long does that take?” She turned from Arya back to face her companion and limped back over to lay her bedroll on the ground.
“Longer than a day.”
Her belly rumbled before she could give a reply and she placed a hand over it, “What I wouldn’t give for a strawberry creme treat right now.”
“No treats be in our supply righ’ now, but that be ligh’ as well.” He rummaged through his things and tossed her another vegetable, which she caught in both hands while sitting down. “Tomorrow we be in the woods, rid o’ these things.” He drew another out and bit into it while she ate her dinner in silence.
Emmaline smiled at the thought of fruit and nuts again before tilting her head back and staring up at the clear sky. She missed it. Along with the sounds of teeming rodents underfoot, birds flying and singing and even the bugs that also made a home here. But her thoughts turned inward, or rather to earlier in the day where her protector seemingly lost his nerve, or something of the like. “What happened to you earlier?”
“What do ye mean?”
“With the wolf. I’ve seen you move and fight multiple times now. You are unlike anything I’ve ever seen before. You should never have been in the position that you were in today.” Her eyes drifted from the heavens back down to earth.
“Do no’ worry about it. It will no’ happen again.” His jaw was set in stone, and she could almost see the clench of his teeth.
“How do you know that? Can you divine the future within the realm of the gods, shared between Nyxa and Sapenta? It was just last night that you were seized with a dream that was so real to you that it spelled you upon waking. I’ve seen the look of men standing in my father's guard, ones who have suffered at the whims and orders of another or of a task done that stained the soul. You were not yourself. I don’t care about your grandstanding, your pride, or your stubbornness. What I do care about, for some unfathomable reason, is you. I care about helping you. I’ve told you that before and I will keep telling you.”
“Help? Ye do no’ know o’ what ye speak, child.”
“Well then tell me if I do not understand.” She sought his gaze imploring him to just look at her for a moment.
“Why would I do such a thin’?” His dark eyes finally settled on hers and kept her from looking any other place as if by a spell.
“Because along with this strange care I have for you that I should not is that when I look at you, my heart hurts. I do not know why.” She tried to reach out for him, so very close he was to her right now, as he had not moved, but he caught her wrist and held it in a vice grip.
“No. It is no’ for ye. Never ye.” His eyes glimmer with a longing, one of affection, or concern perhaps, and he dropped her hand to stand, moving away from her and her words.
Emmaline watched him remove his own blanket from beneath his cloak and settle onto the grass. He was just so very strange, holding her back with one breath and bringing her closer with the next. But she would wear him down. Her father could attest to her determination. It was something that even the gods couldn’t compete with.
Chapter 33
Emmaline once again opened her eyes in the dark of dreams to find herself amongst plain stone halls in familiarity. A sigh escaped her lips at the sight. Now that they were out of that magically charged pit of darkness, she had hoped everything would go back to nor
mal and she would dream her usual dreams again.
The walls looked no different upon this visit than they did the last, and so like before, she did what she only could do. Walk.
This time was different. The air felt strangely heavy and thick, and her heart clenched hard in her chest. The reason for her apprehension soon revealed itself as her ears picked up sounds of pain far off in the distance. Moans and cries dancing with whispers along the walls of her current prison. Each step brought her closer to the noise and the sounds echoed louder mixing with others. The crack of a whip, rattle of chains, and a strange, wet sound that she could not place. Her steps faltered and stopped altogether, and she clutched at the front of her clothes. The dress she wore swirled around her feet and stilled with the absence of ambient air.
Her gaze landed squarely upon a door at the end of the hall. And she knew that the source of those horrid sounds lay beyond it. It grew and loomed ever larger as she stared at it and flinched with each new scream and whip sailing through the air to land on flesh. As if tugged by invisible force and against her will, she took one step after another to the door and each step and sound caused another flinch until she took her last step and came squarely in front of the door. Close enough that she could reach her hand out and touch it easily, and yet she could not bring herself to do so.