The Obsidian Arrow

by Craig A. Price Jr.

  Suddenly she stopped, shrinking back into her chair. He tried to follow, but she pushed him away. Her heart thudded with deep beats with more intensity than she had ever known. It felt as if her heart would pound out of her chest. Almost like her body couldn’t contain it anymore and it wanted to leap into him where it felt like it belonged. She felt like she belonged in his arms, like a baby being rocked in the arms of its mother. Shivers ran through her body as her thoughts revolved around him, but she pushed them away. It was one of the hardest things she’d ever had to do, to bring sense back into her mind, instead of her passion. Oh how she wished she could live off of passion alone. If that were the case, she didn’t know if there would be a single moment where she wouldn’t be kissing him. She shook her head as her thoughts of kissing him overpowered her mind once again.

  Clearing her throat, she spoke at last. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be.”

  She eyed him. “I’m sorry because I’m misleading you.”

  His eyebrow rose. “If that’s how you mislead someone, please, feel free to mislead me anytime.”

  Despite herself, she smiled. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath, knowing it was time for her to tell him her story. He spent time letting her know about him, until she felt she understood most of who he was. It would only be right for her to do the same. Flashbacks swarmed through her mind with faces of her fellow wood kheshlars. They were the same nightmares that tormented her each time she fell asleep at night. Nothing happened in order but seemed to come at her in flashes of scenes. Kheshlars were screaming and running about gathering weapons. Creatures like dragons, but smaller and on two legs, rushed out of the wilderness to attack them. She fought back with her bow and arrows, killing dozens of them, but someone important to her fell and she rushed to her. When she reached the woman, she was dying with several slashes across her body. The woman’s face had many traits that resembled hers, and even though Anaela couldn’t remember who it was, she knew she was her kin.

  “The only thing I remember of my past is my name, Anaela. There are some flashbacks of people calling my name. A voice in my head often whispers my name. I think it is the voice that haunts my nightmares—the last wood kheshlar I saw alive as I clutched her in my arms before all I saw was blackness. She told me I was her sister.”

  Searon shifted, looking intensely at her, although her eyes were fixed on her hands resting on her knees. She wore a long green silk dress falling well beyond her thighs. It was brighter than the forest green she would normally wear, but it was given to her by the faeries as a gift. As she stared at her hands for a long moment. Searon tightened his hands on hers. They held hers gently but firmly, giving her comfort. It was enough comfort to help her thoughts clear.

  “I don’t have many memories of what happened, other than an attack. I do not remember who I was with other than my sister. Her face is burned into my memories … and my nightmares.”

  Searon’s grip on her hands tightened. She smiled at him, grateful for his comfort.

  “Starlyn found me; apparently she stumbled upon us after everyone was dead … everyone except me. I was knocked unconscious, but they did not kill me. I do not know if it was because they thought I was dead or if it was a warning to the rest. A dead witness is no witness. However, with how hard I was hit, I do not remember anything of my past. I do not know where the wood kheshlar cities or villages are. I do not know who I am, besides my name. I do not know who I truly am. All I have is my name, my bow, and a quiver of obsidian arrows.

  “That is why I continue to make obsidian arrows along with all the steel,” she confessed. “It is not because I prefer them, although I have found they are effective for shattering into the flesh of these creatures. The reason I continue to make these obsidian arrows is because it was what I did before I lost my memories. These arrows are the only thing I know of that I used to do. Perhaps I loved their beauty as I do now. None of the other wood kheshlar bodies were seen with such arrows. After Starlyn nursed me back to health, she helped me bury the bodies. She was curious about the wood kheshlars, but I didn’t know what to tell her. Many others didn’t believe that I had lost my memories. They think I don’t wish to reveal where the wood kheshlars are hiding. Yet, if I knew, I would have gone home long ago to find out who I truly am.”

  Searon stroked her hair until she gazed into his eyes. “I know who you are, Anaela, and right now, that is all that matters. Do you wish for me to tell you?”

  She swallowed hard and nodded, never glancing away from his eyes.

  “You are the kindest, sweetest, most gentle, and most beautiful woman I have ever had the chance of meeting. You put everyone’s feelings before yours and ask for nothing in return. Despite the way the high kheshlars treat you, you still strive to save them no matter what the cost. In my eyes, you are perfect in every way.”

  His words caught the breath in her throat. She wasn’t able to speak. She felt her cheeks heat, and by his smile, she could tell he could see it. The embarrassment was unnerving, but she had nowhere to hide. Slowly, she scooted away from him before glancing away.

  “It is late now, and you should get some rest. Both of us need our sleep if we are to meet with the council in the morning.”

  He got to his feet and stretched. She glanced at his rippling stomach muscles that were exposed underneath his shirt as he stretched. A sly smile came to her face, warming her cheeks even more. He held his hand out for her, and she gratefully accepted.

  He led her to the bed. Her nervousness returned. He leaned in, kissing her forehead gently and innocently, but her heart began to race nonetheless. She glanced from him to the bed with a worried expression on her face. He only smiled at her, squeezing her hands tightly before stepping away to lie on the floor.

  Her heart melted as she watched him. She was eager to have him in her arms and wanted nothing more than to be in his all night. To be held by him all night would be beyond perfection, but she knew it would be misleading. She was a kheshlar, and he a human. It should not be. It could not be. When she finally closed her eyes, the nightmares didn’t come; instead, her head became filled with memories of Searon and the kiss they shared that night.

  Chapter 41

  Starlyn exhaled deeply as she pressed the door closed, nearly stumbling in the hall as her head spun. She had never been so nauseous in her life, and the feeling became near unbearable. Her mother experienced the same thing just before she died. Starlyn didn’t know how she could walk when her mother had been bedridden, though perhaps she expected the pain and therefore was better able to deal with it than her mother. She wasn’t ready to give up yet; beyond anything else, she wanted to know what caused her mother’s demise, and now hers. It felt like she would never know, and that thought scared her more than the death she knew approached.

  She made her way down the stairs, one step at a time, while holding onto the rail, appearing strong, and yet all around her spun, making everything appear a twisted maze. Lights appeared to flicker in various bright colors around her; she tried to pay them no attention, instead focusing in front of her on her next step.

  Once she was at the bottom, it became easier to walk, though she still stumbled. Hands reached around her wrist and waist to catch her and gently brought her to a stool at the bar of the pub. Her eyes focused on a muscular man: tan, with bulging biceps, a wicked grin showing crooked yellow teeth, and black hair tied in a ponytail. He rubbed at his thick beard with worry plain on his face as he steadied her on the stool.

  “Are ye all right, milady?” he asked.

  She heard the words, but could not concentrate on them. Everything around her spun out of control. A smell lingered in the air, filling her nostrils, making her mouth water. For the past week, every smell she’d encountered made her nauseous, even the scents of things she used to enjoy, like peaches and strawberries. The scent was different, and the most pleasant mix of vegetables she’d ever smelled, with some
thing else that she couldn’t quite place.

  “What is that wonderful smell?” she asked.

  The man laughed, the shaking gesture causing his round belly to jiggle. His laugh sounded gentle and warmhearted. He set a copper on the counter.

  “Get this lovely lady some soup. She be famished.”

  As soon as she blinked, a large bowl of steaming soup appeared under her nose. The heat warmed her face and the smell had her mouth watering as it hadn’t for months. She still couldn’t see clearly, and most of the substance blurred together to make the broth a light brown, but she could distinguish large chunks of cabbage, potatoes, and carrots.

  Without giving it a second thought, she caved into temptation and scarfed the entire bowl down, including sipping as much of the broth as she could. When she finished, her stomach felt satisfied, but not quite full. Her vision cleared, and she could see everything, and everyone surrounding her. Barmaids and men alike stared at her with curiosity, but she paid them no attention. She no longer felt dizzy, and her strength began to return. She wasn’t as strong as before she had gotten sick, but the improvement was drastic. She felt better than she had the entire journey. Her thoughts came to her clearer now. She remembered what she had left the room to do. She needed to find a home for young Charlotte. With the new strength she had, it wouldn’t be difficult to at least make it to her most important destination, alone.

  The man who sat next to her had bulging eyes. “Another, Barkeep.”

  She paused as she glanced at the second bowl. The smell lingered, intoxicating to her nostrils. She finished its contents swiftly before pushing the bowl away and burping, covering her mouth.

  Something didn’t feel right as she licked her lips to taste the salty broth. She wasn’t completely healthy, but she imagined she felt like a human would. Not the full strength of a kheshlar, but she felt strong enough in mind and body to be around the humans. She wondered what made the soup so different from everything else she’d tried to eat along the journey, and her mind wandered to all the possibilities. Her eyes grew wide.

  “What was in that soup?” she asked.

  The man next to her studied her calmly, appearing to wonder why it mattered so much if she’d already eaten all of it. He shrugged, sighing, before pushing loose strands of hair behind his head. “Let’s see, from what I could tell before ye devoured it, it were the pub’s famous Exotic Beast Stew.”

  “What was in it?”

  “Potatoes, cabbage, carrots, onion, lamb, and bison. Amongst other vegetables I’m sure.”

  Starlyn felt sick to her stomach. She dashed to the privy, which she could clearly see now that her vision showed clear once more. When she arrived at the stall, all she wanted to do was vomit it all out, but nothing came. She sat there, tears streaming along her face at the lives lost at her hand. The poor animals she had consumed without knowledge until it was too late. Yet, that wasn’t the worst part of it; she had enjoyed the taste, more than anything else she had ever eaten. Something had to be wrong with her for the flesh of an animal to taste good to her, a kheshlar, and one who wasn’t supposed to consume flesh of any type. It scared her to discover that once she consumed the flesh, her body grew stronger. It made her sick. Kheshlars were supposed to have strength enough for what they were. They didn’t need the high protein of meat to satisfy their appetite for strength. Was she no longer a kheshlar? What was happening to her?

  Tears continued to fall from her eyes as she thought of her mother and how much she missed her. More than ever the past few months, she had been having reoccurring dreams of her mother, and sometimes she would awake covered in sweat and tears. She cast it aside as fever sweats from the illness, but she knew the truth behind it. Starlyn missed her mother terribly. She shook, whimpering on the floor, strength returned, but at such a cost. Starlyn didn’t know if she could live with herself.

  “Is everything all right in there, milady?” a soft but strong voice called.

  Starlyn stood, wiping the tears from her eyes, staring at herself in the cracked mirror. Her health appeared significantly better than it had only days before, but the thought of her eating an animal still brought shivers to her mind. Starlyn needed to use the strength she had acquired. She could not let it go to waste; no animal should go to waste. Her decision became clear: she would leave at once.

  “Yes, I’m fine,” she said, stepping out of the privy and into the common room, where everyone stared at her.

  Many of them turned back to their drinks or the juggler in the corner as she glared at each and every one of them.

  “Milady, will you be all right? I do not wish to leave ye if ye is not feeling well. The patrons of this inn aren’t respectful to women to say the least, but I must get back to me wife.”

  “Your wife?” Starlyn paused. “What is your name?”

  “Yes … uhmm, Drenneyr, milady.”

  “Tell me, Drenneyr, do you and your wife have children?”

  “No. We have tried, milady. We have yet to be successful.”

  She smiled. “Do you believe in fate, Sir Drenneyr?”

  “I do not know, milady. I be a simple man.”

  “Please sit. I have a request I would like to ask of you.”

  Chapter 42

  An unsettling chill breeze brushed across Searon’s warm face, awakening him in the morning. Small rays of sunlight beamed through the windows of the bright blue-and-green room. The brightness nearly blinded him. He turned away, rubbing his eyes. He noticed a heavy bright green wool blanket draped over most of his body. After stretching, he got to his feet to gently fold the blanket, setting it on the table. He wasn’t aware of grabbing a blanket during the night, but it was still too early for his thoughts to process.

  The smell of fresh bread and porridge filled the air with a pleasant aroma, causing Searon’s mouth to water. His vision was still blurry. He rubbed his eyes again and noticed Anaela in the kitchen, pulling out a small loaf of fresh bread from a large rectangular box. She slowly cut the bread into slices before rubbing what appeared to be fresh mashed apricots onto them with the knife. After blinking his eyes a few more times, he walked over to the table to sit next to a full breakfast prepared for the two of them.

  Fresh bread sat on a plate in the center, a few slices covered with fruit. Cold glasses of milk in thin, tall steel containers stood at each side. In front of him, a large bowl of creamy white porridge rested, nearly making him drool. At the side of the bowl he saw a saucer with honey and a spoon. He took a few spoonfuls of honey to mix in his porridge. After stirring it thoroughly, he watched Anaela.

  She kept busy tidying the small kitchen, putting containers away before she sat. When she finally sat, she looked back at him, smiling innocently. Her smile sank into his heart; he remembered why he liked it so much. His heart seemed to melt each time he saw her smile, and his control over himself seemed to vanish because he couldn’t help but smile back.

  “What is this for?” he asked.

  “I assumed you would be hungry.”

  “I am, but you have never made me anything before.”

  She gazed at him as if she were at a loss for words. It appeared as if she was nervous about his question, shrugging it off, which made him want the answer even more. He knew she was kind and courteous, but making him breakfast when she appeared to want to keep him at bay didn’t make sense.

  “It is to thank you for listening to me yesterday. I have never been able to open up to another honestly like that. Even Starlyn doesn’t know as much as I’ve confessed to you.” Her cheeks reddened as she glanced away.

  “You are more than welcome to tell me anything you want.”

  “I know,” she whispered.

  Searon nodded approvingly before dipping into his porridge. The taste overwhelmed him. It was possibly the best porridge he had ever tasted. Fresh cut strawberries and peaches hid inside the porridge, along with the few spoonfuls of honey. The fresh bread tasted just as delicious, with sweetness to it he had never
experienced before.

  “Thank you for taking the floor,” Anaela said after her first bite of porridge.

  Searon swallowed his mouthful of porridge before fixating on her eyes: the eyes that seemed to be entrapping his very soul into her gaze. He saw the respect for him lingering deep within her flickering green eyes. Her expression appeared so innocent, and at the same time, so stunningly beautiful. Searon felt at a loss for words. He felt a mere pebble in the presence of an angel. He had a hard time speaking to such perfection.

  “I am perfectly comfortable on the floor. There was no need to concern yourself over it.”

  Anaela nodded, looking doubtfully at him, as if she knew he was uncomfortable on the floor. Truth be told, he seldom felt comfortable anywhere anymore, but he had spent a long time without the luxury of a comfortable bed. Hundreds of nights after he had left his home had been spent on the uncomfortable ground outside while clad in armor. The floor of the faerie room was decently comfortable for him compared to the ground.

  They finished breakfast in silence before heading outside to watch the beautiful sunrise. The door of their room hid in the side of a hill covered in grass, hidden from the rest of the world. It wasn’t rectangular or square like most human and kheshlarn doors, but rounded instead, and it matched the shade of the ground. Faeries littered the skies as they flew with various shaped wings to and fro in the sky. All of them had transparent wings glittering with speckles of pink and purple if they were female, or blues and greens if male.

  Searon only glanced at them before ambling toward the large river half a dozen paces in front of him. If he were his normal size, this gigantic river would seem little more than a stream, but as he looked at it, it seemed to stretch on for miles. He sat at the bank without his shoes, feeling the cool water mist against his dry feet.