But then how would they fight these bandits? All Edwyr knew was how to kill, and he had no non-lethal weapons. But just as they approached the small forest again, Arbane shared an idea that left Edwyr completely shocked.
“You could pretend you have magic.”
Edwyr stared at him with wide eyes, wondering how it was possible he hadn’t thought of that. A bandit wouldn’t be able to tell if Edwyr was lying or not. The elf could simply pretend that he would put them under some vague curse if they didn’t give Feyrith over. There was a very high chance this would work. But there was a problem.
“But you couldn’t go with me, then.” Before either Lanna or Arbane could ask what he’d meant by that, Edwyr continued. “Elves don’t travel with humans. That is a fairly widespread fact. It would create unnecessary risk and questions.” Edwyr waved his hand, hoping that it would make it seem as though he wasn’t at all nervous about this and entirely confident it would work. “Besides, if they believe the lie, no matter how many there are, I doubt they will risk attacking me.”
“And if they do attack?” Lanna looked worried, though she seemed to be doing her best not to show it.
“Then I suppose you will have to rescue two elves instead of one.”
10
Feyrith was trying to stay hopeful, but it was hard to think positively when he was trapped in a situation he had no way to get out of. His previous attempts at escaping had left his wrists cut up and sore, and the cuffs binding his wrists now reminded him of his wounds every time he moved. But when he didn’t, there was still an ever-present, dull ache in his wrists simply from the metal touching them, which he couldn’t avoid because, for his ‘difficult attitude’, the man imprisoning him had decided to chain his hands up above his head, forcing Feyrith to stand.
In a way, he appreciated that he wasn’t being actively tortured, but after several hours, his legs ached more than they ever had in his life. He almost felt ungrateful for not appreciating that he’d been sitting before, which was absolutely ridiculous. But the worst part about this was that if he didn’t manage to escape soon, he would give in and help these bandits.
That was about the most humiliating thing he could think of, but unfortunately, it might well be his reality soon. Feyrith squeezed his eyes closed, taking in a deep breath through his nose to calm down and keep his stoic composure, but it wasn’t helping much. At least no one was in the room with him.
But just as he thought that the sound of footsteps reached his ears, the door swinging open soon after. Surprisingly, however, it wasn’t the man he had been expecting, but rather the younger one. Was he the man’s nephew? Feyrith almost shook his head then, feeling exasperated with himself for caring about this. These people were holding him prisoner—there was no space for trying to be respectful.
“Look,” the man said, running his hand through his neck-length brown hair as he walked up to Feyrith. He seemed a little uncomfortable with the situation, but Feyrith was going to assume it was nothing but an act and a change of tactics. “I like this situation about as much as you do.”
Feyrith stared at him blankly, almost overwhelmed with the very human urge to roll his eyes. He’d never wanted to do that before, but he was too exhausted to feel worried about it.
“Uncle says he knows exactly what he is doing, but….” He paused and then continued with a lowered voice. “I doubt it.”
Feyrith narrowed his eyes. He already had a good idea of where this was going to go, but he obviously couldn’t say anything to stop the man, so all he could do was stand there and listen.
“I would free you, assuming you won’t tell your fellow elves to come and kill us for this,” the man said, sighing. “But I can’t. Not without you doing what Uncle wants.”
Feyrith looked to the side, avoiding the man’s gaze. He had no interest in this conversation. The only thing he could add was that the elves would never come here for revenge. They would see this as Feyrith’s failing, not the bandits’.
The man sighed again, walking off to the corner. “All right. Then you force my hand.”
Despite his better judgment, Feyrith looked up at him, only for his heart to seize when he saw the man pick up his staff. He swallowed thickly, watching him studying it, unable to even blink.
“I will break this in two if you don’t do what we want.”
Feyrith had suspected that would be the case already, but somehow hearing it said out loud was so much worse. This entire ordeal might send Feyrith back to the Second Circle. Having his staff broken would lead to something much worse. He wouldn’t get banished, but a harsh punishment would definitely follow—there was no doubt about it. Any damage to the staves was akin to treason. The wood was incredibly durable and strong, but it could be broken if one set their mind to it, and Feyrith didn’t doubt this man could do it.
But using Goddess’ gifts to profit these humans was grounds for being severely punished as well. What was he supposed to do? This human didn’t know how much that staff meant to an elf, but Feyrith wasn’t in a position to explain it. Feyrith couldn’t give in, but that was the only thing he could do at this point that would save him from an even worse fate.
Before either of them could do anything, though, the muffled sound of voices came from somewhere behind the door. And it was two male voices, which meant there was someone new. Feyrith’s eyes flicked back to the nephew, seeing that he looked just as surprised as Feyrith felt. And perhaps also more than a little concerned.
Feyrith wasn’t sure what to think at that moment, but he did let out a relieved breath when the man put the staff back into the corner. Still, it was only a matter of time before he was in this exact situation again, and it wouldn’t take long before—
“Oh, so you are telling me you haven’t come across another elf?” a very familiar voice said, taking Feyrith out of his panicked thoughts. Even with the door blocking the voices off somewhat, he could easily understand the conversation now, so they must have gotten closer. But that voice…. He was sure he’d heard it before. And had the man said another elf? As in, the person talking was an elf himself?
“I don’t know what you’ve heard, but I assure you, we are honest people. We’d never hurt anyone, let alone an elf,” another voice said, definitely belonging to the older man who had locked Feyrith up here. The elf gritted his teeth, glaring at the door. He hated how easily he would have believed that if a human had told him that. Which was the whole reason he had been captured in the first place.
He knew he shouldn’t feel hatred towards anyone, especially not towards humans, but just then, he couldn’t help himself.
“Prove it, then,” the elf behind the door said, making it sound like a threat. Out of the corner of his eye, Feyrith could see the nephew moving, but the elf couldn’t look away from the door. “Open the door, or I swear to the Goddess I will turn you into a rat.”
Feyrith stood there with bated breath, watching the door and flinching as it suddenly swung open hard, slamming into the stone wall next to it with a loud crash. And to his absolute shock, Edwyr was standing there, looking furious. And all Feyrith could do was stare at him. What was he doing here? He hadn’t even been willing to hear Feyrith out in Sunwood, and he’d come all the way out here and somehow found him?
“Honest people, indeed,” Edwyr said, scoffing as he looked directly into Feyrith’s eyes. Feyrith couldn’t exactly figure out what the emotion in the other elf’s eyes was, but he could tell it wasn’t friendly. His eyes widened further when he suddenly noticed movement behind Edwyr. All he could manage was a muffled yell before the older man was swinging something at Edwyr’s head.
However, that seemed to be enough to show that something was wrong because right at the last moment Edwyr turned around, just in time to grab the man’s wrist and push him against the wall. But that only lasted for a moment before the man slammed his head in Edwyr’s, forcing him to stumble back.
The older man was now brandishing a knife, which wouldn’t be
a threat to a normal elf, but Edwyr was Cursed. Still, the human didn’t know that, yet.
“You have no magic, do you?”
Or maybe he did.
Somehow even more dread spread through Feyrith’s heart as he watched the scene with horror. Feyrith’s eyes flicked over to the man’s nephew again, who had now taken his place next to his uncle, a dagger drawn at Edwyr. He looked nervous, but not nearly as much now that he suspected Edwyr couldn’t easily defeat them.
But how could this man possibly know about the Curse? While some humans knew elves with no magical ability existed, they didn’t know much beyond that.
There was a tense silence for a moment, with the two humans pointing weapons at Edwyr, and the elf standing there with his fists raised.
“No, I don’t,” Edwyr admitted, surprising Feyrith yet again. Despite everything he’d been taught, Feyrith would have lied in this situation. Or at least stayed silent. But he wouldn’t have been this calm either. “But I don’t need magic to win a fight against the two of you.”
And before anyone could react to that, Edwyr was swinging his fist right in the older man’s stomach before the human could react, forcing him to stumble back but not drop his knife. Edwyr quickly moved into the room, to get more space, as the nephew took a swing with his knife at him. Edwyr managed to dodge it, pulling his dagger out of the scabbard hanging from his belt.
Feyrith pulled on his cuffs as he helplessly watched the fight escalate in a desperate need to do something. But unsurprisingly all it did was make his wrists burn. Could Edwyr really win against them? He was faster, and clearly physically stronger than Feyrith, but that didn’t necessarily mean he could handle both of the humans at once.
Feyrith kept tugging at the cuffs, no matter how much it hurt, as Edwyr fought the two, holding his own surprisingly well as he blocked the humans’ blades. But just as Feyrith could start to feel hope replace his fear and despair, the nephew turned his attention to him.
He moved fast—shockingly fast for a human—and before Feyrith knew it, there was a blade against his neck. Feyrith flinched, wincing as the cold blade dug into his skin. The human didn’t seem to be trying to cut him, but Feyrith was scared of even breathing at that moment.
“Stop, or I kill him!” the human yelled at Edwyr, forcing him and the older man to stop their fight, their blades still crossed. Feyrith tried to move away from the dagger with the little space he had to work with, but the man just grabbed his hair and pulled him back against the blade.
Feyrith squeezed his eyes shut, desperately trying to pretend he wasn’t in this situation. But the silence wasn’t helping with that. All he could focus on was his heart hammering in his ears and the steel pressing against his neck.
“You wouldn’t dare,” he heard Edwyr say, sounding very sure of it. Unlike Feyrith, who was expecting the dagger to cut through his skin and end him at any second.
“Try me.”
Feyrith was still keeping his eyes closed, but even like this he could feel the tension in the room somehow getting even worse. He could barely take a single breath, let alone move. Seconds suddenly felt like hours, the silence stretching on unbearably as the blade only pressed against his skin harder.
Was he going to die like this? Failing to even complete his first mission?
But then, the impossible happened. He heard a distant caw. His eyes snapped open, staring past Edwyr and his captor, just in time to see a mass of black feathers and dark, furious eyes running down the corridor. The quasir!
The beast sprinted into the room, slamming its head into the older man, throwing him away and against a wall. It cawed loudly in victory, scratching its claws against the stone floor and huffing, ready to charge at the other human. However, before it could, the man took the blade away from Feyrith’s neck, backing off with the quasir watching his every move.
Edwyr let out a loud breath, shaking his head. The quasir had meanwhile closed the distance between Feyrith and it and was now sniffing him, and his shackles. Feyrith could barely stand on his two feet at this point, feeling all the tension, fear, and anxiousness drain out of him along with his remaining strength. For the first time he was glad for the chains because if someone freed him right now, he wasn’t sure he wouldn’t simply fall to the ground.
The sound of footsteps thundering down the corridor filled the air, making Feyrith tense up again, but he relaxed when he saw the two humans he’d talked to back in Sunwood. And he was more confused than ever, even though he wasn’t sure how that was possible. But mostly he just wanted to get out of here too much to worry about anything else right now.
“Everything okay? We just saw the squawker run past us.” the woman exclaimed, her eyes wide as she ran to Edwyr, staring first at him, and then at Feyrith. The quasir let out a sound of displeasure, drawing itself to its full height in front of Feyrith as if to protect him from the humans. Feyrith wished he could tell it to stand down, but he wasn’t sure it would listen anyway.
“Yes. It is all fine now.” Edwyr shot a dirty look at the two bandits, the younger checking on his uncle, who seemed to be unconscious now. “Give me the keys.”
There was a moment of tense silence before the bandit took the keyring off his uncle’s belt and threw it at Edwyr, who effortlessly caught it. His stern expression didn’t change even as he unceremoniously unlocked Feyrith’s cuffs, finally letting him put his arms down. He scrambled to get the gag out of his mouth, taking a deep breath through his mouth when he did. A wave of relief crashed over him, even greater than the one he’d felt when the quasir had ended the fight.
He bowed his head, thanking the three, despite being more than a little embarrassed at being saved by a Cursed elf. As if this situation could get any more shameful. Edwyr only gave him a look of distaste before heading back into the corridor.
Feyrith didn’t care, though, because all he wanted was to be outside again, and so he muttered a quick spell to make his staff fly out of the corner and into his hand before following after Edwyr and the two humans who had also started walking out as well. Feyrith kept his free hand on the side of the quasir, leaning on it for balance as subtly as he could manage, trying his best not to rub at his sore wrists. He didn’t need any of them to see how tired he was after all of this.
He knew that all that happened was the Goddess’ will, and therefore praying to her was pointless, but he still sent her a small, mental thank you for being rescued before he could be forced into doing something so wrong with her gifts.
Feyrith closed his eyes for a moment as his face was hit with the warm, fresh air outside, taking a quick moment to appreciate the sun on his face before carefully tucking all of his emotions away. Both humans accompanying Edwyr had given Feyrith concerned looks already, and he couldn’t make them think elves were in any way weak or vulnerable.
He swallowed as he realized his hair was still very much unbraided and improper, but he didn’t trust himself to fix that right now, with how numb his fingers felt. He would probably only manage to make it look worse.
He followed behind the three into the crack in the mountain wall, letting them put some distance between them and him. He wasn’t sure what to think now. He was of course incredibly relieved that the only thing lost in this ordeal was his dignity and possibly his rank, although maybe that could be salvaged yet if he managed to complete his mission well. But Feyrith wasn’t certain if he should be expecting Edwyr to help him on the rest of his journey or not.
He’d been so adamantly opposed to even listening to Feyrith in Sunwood. The fact that he’d gone here and helped Feyrith was completely mindboggling to him. He supposed he would have to ask about it, but he was a little hesitant to do so with how Edwyr had treated him the last time. Feyrith was certain that a part of why Edwyr had been in such a bad mood was because he’d walked into Edwyr’s house without permission, but that had definitely not been all of it.
As he finally reached the end of the dark tunnel, he realized that he was still shaking
. He couldn’t seem to stop it, so he could only hope that it wouldn’t be apparent to anyone. And that his voice would be steadier than his body. He needed to project grace and strength, not weakness and vulnerability, and the fewer signs he gave off that he wasn’t feeling all that strong and graceful, the better.
As he slung the staff onto his back and mounted the quasir, he noticed that its reins were broken in two. Feyrith didn’t let that stop him, though, and quickly fixed it with a spell. He quickly steered the quasir the way he’d gotten here in the first place, his heart doing painful twists as he remembered he’d left his satchel here. His communication stone…. If he’d lost that, he would have a lot to answer for—that kind of enchantment wasn’t easily created.
“Hey, where are you going, Feyrith?” he heard one of the humans call after him, prompting him to automatically stop the quasir and turn around. Both of the humans were looking back at him while Edwyr stood a little farther, partially hidden by the trees, though even then Feyrith could tell he wasn’t looking his way.
Feyrith straightened his back, trying to look as proper as he should at the moment. “I left my belongings over there.” He pointed towards the trees he’d set up his very modest camp at. The campfire had long since gone out, or perhaps the woman who had lured him into the bandit’s hideout in the first place had put it out, but he could still see it.
“Right, okay, we’ll wait here.”
Oh, so they were planning to accompany him on at least part of his journey. In fact, the two humans looked much more enthusiastic at coming with him than Edwyr. Interesting. Especially since they were humans, and the world outside the walls of the towns and cities was so dangerous to them.
The Circles of Magic Page 10