by K. C. M.
Her first instinct was to defend herself or to cast the blame on Connor. Instead, the thought of Connor caused her to take a deep breath and calm herself. Her spine straightened. “It was a werebeast.” She replied coolly. “Can you help or not?”
The girl’s features blurred for a moment and suddenly she was so close to Holly that Holly started and took a step back. “Do you really want help?”
Something about the question made Holly pause.
“You must be sure if you want help before asking for it.”
The girl’s eyes glittered even though they stood within the dapples shade of the wispy trees overhead.
“Do you know why the gnome didn’t attack you before?”
The sudden switch in topics gave Holly a start. “What?”
A soft tinkling laugh and suddenly the girl’s image blurred, before settling. Holly had the oddest sense, as if she were gazing at the girl through disturbed waters. “The gnome tracker, silly. He could have killed you, but he stopped. Do you know why?”
The memory felt distant. The past few weeks had been so fraught with danger and surprise, that her first few days in the magic woods were little more than a blurred memory. “How do you know a gnome tried to kill me?”
“Humans are forgetful creatures,” The girl’s face was at once mournful and playful.
The déjà vu returned in full force. Or perhaps it wasn’t déjà vu so much as memory. “You were there that day.” Holly said slowly.
The girl’s eyes slitted and the air shimmered for a moment.
“The stone circle,” Holly surmised. “It’s magic.”
“My kind like circles,” The girl’s jovial, but mischievous expression returned.
Then Holly remembered. It was an old game that the village children would play when their parents weren’t looking. They’d join hands and dance around in a circle, all the while singing:
If you see a fairy ring in a field of grass, very lightly step around, tiptoe as you pass;
Fairies danced there seasons past, movements light and fair, nothing gold can ever last
They’ve now gone farwhere
If you see a tiny fey, offering you food, quickly close your eyes and run, they can do no good.
Fairies long to steal your soul, they’ll take you to their lair, til you are their captive thrall
Belonging now in farwhere
“You’re a fairy.”
The girl raised a brow and the mocking movement reminded Holly of Connor. “Are you always so slow?”
Holly ignored that. She could flee the circle or she could stay and try to strike a deal with the fey girl. “If I ask for your help, what will it cost me?”
The fairy’s eyes sharpened and every feature of her form became sharp and distinct. “Now you are asking a good question. I’m glad that you can be taught.”
Teeth grinding, Holly replied. “My friend is dying. Will you tell me the cost or not?”
The fairy reached out and drew a symbol in the air. “What price are you willing to pay?”
Holly swallowed. Her hesitation gave her away.
The fairy smiled a knowing smile. “I see you are willing to pay a very high price. I won’t ask for that price. All I ask is for an envoy I can trust in this world.”
“What do you mean?”
Fairy and girl stared into each other’s eyes. The mocking pretense fell away from the young fey girl. “There is darkness coming to this world. If it’s not stopped, it will combine with the darkness in my own world. They will rise together to destroy everything that we have known and loved. Circles and rings in your world bind me. I need you to be my unbound self.”
The children’s song came back to Holly. “You want me to be your slave.”
The fey girl raised her brows. “I think we both know that it is you who wants to be mine.”
For a long moment, Holly stared into the fairy’s eyes. She’d spent the last few weeks running, not sure why she had entered this magical world, and feeling more like an outsider than a part of the world. Something, some instinct or bond that Holly didn’t understand, told her that the fey girl knew and understood her feelings. Something like kinship echoed between the two.
“I’ll do it, if you save my friend.”
The fairy’s face split into a genuine smile. She reached out and briefly circled Holly’s wrist with her slender fingers. Even when she let go, the warmth remained. Holly glanced down and saw that a gold chain now circled her wrist.
“Bring me your friend.”
Connor struggled through a sea of darkness. There was a time in his life where he would have been content to drift and bide his time, but then he’d woken to the horror of the world around him. Now his mind and body fought, viciously forcing a way through the darkness…seeking…he was seeking something…
We are death’s hands…
Connor shuddered at the old whisper. He hadn’t heard the voice of his teacher for several days now. Probably because Holly talked enough to drive the voice away, Connor thought with wry humor.
His conscience slipped further.
Everyone living is already dead. It’s just a matter of death finding them.
The cold voice was accompanied by a blurry memory amidst the dark.
Connor had felt cold that long ago day, but he had dressed for it, knowing he’d be waiting outside for a long time. The priestesses kept a roaring fire going inside the small temple and the window’s glass was foggy. He’d crouched outside in the snow for hours, waiting…waiting for the right moment.
When he’d finally crept up to the window under cover of darkness, he’d felt fear stab through him for the first time.
A woman stood staring out the window.
She was small and somewhat stout in the way of dwarves. Her features were normal, nothing about her called his attention. Except, perhaps, the scar on her forehead, near her hairline. It was from a long ago failed assassination attempt.
Needless to say, it wasn’t the woman’s appearance that caused him to fear.
It was the single word she’d written in the fog on the window.
Sight
He’d been trained to focus on one thing, on completing the mission.
His current conscience tried to stop his memory self, but there was no stopping, no redirecting of the past. In slowed time, he watched as he broke the glass. The seer stood so close, he didn’t even have to throw the sharp shard in his hand. Just one quick movement.
He should have fled then.
But she’d stared at him the entire time.
She’d known he would come.
The first vision a seer sees is of their own death.
He hadn’t learned that until after he’d killed her.
It was strange to think that the entire time, she’d known he was coming.
Instead of fighting or screaming out, though, she’d reached for him, clasped his arm, and spoken, choking and hardly able to breathe.
And all the while, she’d stared at him with eyes that were leached of almost all their color.
Haunted eyes, haunted by what she’d seen, drained by the strain of her burden, eyes that were ready to finally close for the last time.
Ready if she could just get out her last words. She’d struggled to stay alive long enough to whisper to him, to give her last prophecy, her last command.
You will find the fey ringed girl. Help her stop them from coming.
That was it. With the last word, she’d shuddered and died.
He had stayed for a moment, just staring. He was afraid for the first time and confused, confused to the point where he wasn’t sure what to do. He’d wanted time…time to get away…time to forget the seer and her colorless, all seeing eyes.
Eyes…he’d never felt so…haunted.
Eyes…something about eyes…ringed with green.
Holly.
Connor struggled.
Holly was in danger. The werebeast would never stop hunting.
He fo
ught against the waves of darkness and the memories, even though he knew it was useless. No one had healed from a werebeast bite since before the fairies had left.
He was dragged further and further under, tides sweeping over him.
He pictured Holly, remembered the determination and stubborn fire as she forced herself to do things that were beyond her.
He could do this.
He was doing it.
The waves were receding.
The darkness dissipating.
Light.
His head throbbed as he cracked open his eyelids.
Drat, it was so bright.
A sudden, horrible urge took him.
He convulsed, coughing violently.
“Oh, thank goodness.” Someone whispered right above him.
Then she was hugging him, her arms wrapped tightly around his shoulders and neck.
It took him a few seconds to recover from coughing and to reorient himself.
Then he let out a long breath.
There was only one person who had ever hugged him.
His body shook, but he managed to wrap an arm weakly around her in return.
Holly was shaking, too. Her breathing warmed his neck in uneven puffs. She was crying.
His heart panged.
No one ever cried for him.
He held her for a moment longer and then whispered hoarsely, “Holly.”
“What? What is it?”
Now that his mind was rewiring itself, he could think. “How am I still here?”
She drew back enough to see his face.
Her words were lost on him, his attention diverted.
Her eyes were typical brown…but the green ring in them had grown stronger, the color so distinct it was clearly unnatural.
With something akin to horror, he whispered hoarsely, “It was you.”
11 The One that Got Away
“Are you sure you don’t want me to carry this?” Holly held up the pack.
Connor shot her a look as he took the pack. He slung it over his shoulders with a soft grunt. She eyed him with some concern. She wasn’t entirely positive what the fairy had done besides cover his wound with a glowing hand. The wound was still there, but the poison had gone. After he’d instructed her on how to bind the wound, he’d refused to rest. Instead he insisted they keep moving.
“It’s just that I didn’t just get bitten by a mysterious, terrifying beast and then collapse.” Holly met his look with a frown.
He shifted the pack on his shoulders, resettling it. Then he reached out and rested a hand on her shoulder. Her eyebrows shot up, but he ignored her surprise. “Thank you.”
With that, he turned away and started off.
She stayed there a moment longer, feeling a flush steal over her cheeks.
He glanced back and saw, which made her flush deepen. He turned away quickly, but she caught a glimpse of his smirk.
She hurried after him. “I did save your life, you know.”
“Hence the gratitude.”
“Now, you can’t tease me and tell me I’m useless.”
“I’ve never said you were useless.” He stepped over a tree and then reached out, catching her elbow and helping her over.
The unexpected kindness caused her to stare at him. “Still, you can’t tease me anymore.”
“I thought teasing gave my character a nice edge,” He replied drily.
Her lips twitched. “You already have too many edges.”
“How would you know?” He scoffed. “You know practically nothing about me.”
“That’s because you won’t answer my questions!” She protested.
Connor stopped. He glanced around, his gaze drawn upward toward the leafy roof of the little forest. “Alright. What do you want to know?”
Holly sensed the change in the conversation. He grew serious and she studied him. There was an openness in his expression she had never seen there before. “Who are you?”
His lips curled. “I’m an assassin called Connor.”
She pressed her lips together to keep from smiling. “I meant, who are you really? You told me once that humans call you Connor and when…” She paused and took a breath, before plunging on. “When you were dying, you said I should go to a village and say that Caranthir sent me. Is that your real name?”
“I suppose it’s as close to a name as any.” He said slowly. “Names mean something different for…my kind.”
Feeling bold because he had answered, Holly stepped close and reached out, touching his arm. “Please tell me.”
His head bent forward, dark hair falling across his forehead to hide his eyes. Finally, he said, “I’ll explain it, but we have to keep moving.”
“Is something still tracking us?”
He nodded.
“Someone sent the werebeast, didn’t they?” She surmised.
He glanced at her in surprise. “Yes.”
“Then explain that, too, please.”
He laughed softly, a quick sound. She glanced at him, feeling a surge of pleasure that she’d won a laugh from him. As they walked, he tried to explain. “Even before the War, the elves were always fighting. The differences between the four elfish races became so…strong, that each race couldn’t stand to be in the presence of the others. The worst of these prejudices, was the Light and Dark Elves. The Light Elves believe my kind are all that is evil and bad in the world. The Dark Elves have always seen the Light as a nuisance. Light cannot go where Dark has not been, or so we are taught. Much like the War of the Races, it all comes back to power and distrust. Eventually, the antagonism grew so strong, that the Light Elves swore they would completely destroy the Dark.
“My people have never gotten along well with others. We are a lonely race and have little trust in the ability and strengths of others. The Light Elves took advantage of this. They convinced the Iron and Forest Elves to put aside their differences long enough to join in a massive war. Thousands died on both sides. The very land suffered and even today, there are still places that are scarred from the battles that were fought.
“Eventually, so many of the Dark Elves were killed that most of the other elves thought they had won. The Iron and Forest Elves went back to their own war. The Light Elves couldn’t accept or believe that the Dark Elves were all dead and they separated themselves, only returning when they are hunting my kind.”
Connor fell silent for a long moment, lost in his thoughts. Holly, who was hanging impatiently onto his every word, waited a full three seconds before asking, “You’re obviously here, so what happened? How did the Dark Elves survive?”
“We went underground. Literally.” His face transformed into a dark, tense expression.
Sensing the change, Holly sobered. “That can’t have been a great environment to grow up in.”
“It wasn’t,” He replied drily. “Though the Den is safer than being up here.”
“Were there many of you in…the Den?”
He glanced at her, but his eyes were far away. “Enough.” He fell silent again and this time she waited, sensing he wasn’t ready to talk. After a long time, he finally said softly, “It’s not a time I look back on with fondness.”
She nearly said he didn’t have to keep telling her, but he had been right. She knew practically nothing about him and every tiny morsel of information unlocked giant doors into understanding him.
They reached the edge of the forest and he motioned for her to wait. She watched as he quickly climbed the hill and scouted the area. When he returned for her, he continued talking. “We aren’t raised the way other races are. It’s a community. Children are all raised together. There’s no time for fun and games. Right from the start it is all lessons and training.”
“Training to be an assassin?”
His voice became cold, inflectionless. “We are death’s shadows, the ones who reap the weak.”
An eerie silence followed his words. A dark cloud had passed over his face, over his countenance, and Holly sudde
nly wanted it gone. “If you’re trying to give yourself more scary, sharp edges, you’re succeeding.” She teased.