Fragility and vulnerability hit through the sound of his voice and pulled on Quinn’s heartstrings. She could not help but feel sorry for him. All he wanted to do was make things better for someone who was destined to die. He’d risk his own life to do so.
Quinn heaved a heavy and stubborn exhalation, rubbed the snot from her nose, and moved closer to her wilting friend. “Then we have to find a way to save him, for your sake. I suppose my own. I can barely live to hear you whine anymore.”
They both laughed innocently.
“I’m sorry,” he said wholeheartedly. “There’s no one to blame for what has happened. Not you and not your owl. At least I have you. That’s more than I would have if we did not meet. I’m thankful.”
Quinn nudged Abbott in the side. “Enough with the sweet talk.” But in truth, hearing him say it was warm like the midsummer sun in a snow storm. She released a giggle as a thank you. “ We have each other.”
Abbott embraced Quinn and felt his worries slay away from his mind.
But a clanking noise came from their cell door and interrupted the moment.
Eldritch entered unaccompanied.
Quinn rolled her eyes in disgust. “Not you again. Haven’t we done this enough times?”
His wicked little grin curled. “I was passing by and had a moment. Where were we? Oh yes, the eye.” He held his butterknife back in his baby little hands and approached Quinn taking no notice of Abbott, who sat next to her. “Did we decide on one or both?”
The knife grew closer and closer to her. She could, once again, feel his hot breath grope her face. They were only an arm’s length apart.
“Don’t you know about bad luck?” Abbott said in an effort to stall his discomforting efforts. “You never live a day in your life without having to watch over your shoulder. It’s maddening.”
“Quiet!” Eldritch barked. “You are ruining the moment. I’m going to get even with this little thief finally after all this time. And you’re not going to ruin it for me!”
“Bad luck will get even with you. More times than once. You’re going to wish you would have listened.”
Eldritch stopped and lowered his arm. “What do you mean?”
“Well, where I come from if you,” the words were coming straight from nowhere, “harm an innocent woman, you’ll be hunted down by bad luck, and it will remove your tongue and hands to prevent you from harming anyone else.”
Quinn snorted in amusement. “He’s right! Since, what I did to you, I’ve had to keep a watchful eye on things. I pay him to watch me while I sleep. I’m so scared all the time. Do you know what it’s like to have to pay someone to watch your back while you relieve yourself? Embarrassing!”
“Lies!” Eldritch yelled, his little arms wiggled in dismal. “This one lies well, and I do not doubt in my mind that you do too! She probably put you up to this, didn’t she? No matter, bad luck doesn’t seem so bad.”
“Suit yourself,” Abbott said, shrugging his shoulders. “At least I offered to save you. Hope someone pities the worthless man you’ll become.”
Eldritch inched closer to Quinn. “You some kind of spell dealing wisp?”
“You could say that.” Their faces were nose to nose. In an instance Abbott least expected, Quinn rocked her head back and slammed into Eldritch’s face sending blood everywhere. “Quick!” she said, looking at the ring around his leather belt.
“What have you done?” Abbott said astonished. “You broke his nose!”
Eldritch lay unconscious on the ground, crusted with blood flowing like a fountain from his nostrils.
“Nothing he didn’t already deserve. Let’s get out of here!” Quinn said, rushing for the lock.
“I’m assuming you’ve done this before?” asked Abbott as Quinn fumbled with the keyring to determine the correct key.
Quinn chuckled. “Yes. Expect, last time it wasn’t a broken nose.”
Abbott put two and two together, “You took the man’s eye out?”
“Hardly a man,” Quinn insisted. “Ah!” Finally, a key twisted the locking mechanism open.
“And you know the way out?”
“Like the back of my hand,” Quinn winked. “Let's leave this hell hole.”
Thus far, Abbott couldn’t land a finger on Quinn. She’d constantly puzzled him, whether it be from a good decision or not. There was a lot more to this red-headed warrior than his eyes had yet to reveal. She could conjure measly spells, had an owl companion, a wealth of knowledge about navigation, and a brute force hidden behind a large set of innocent green eyes. Quinn was not all she appeared to be. Buried deep beneath a rough exterior, was an interior crying to be revealed. He would hold his breath to see that inside.
"Are you coming?" she yanked his arm, and he followed her to his salvation.
Daybreak fell smooth over the dense canopy, shielding the ground below. Ara was under eternal darkness. It was a welcoming sensation. She could take leave the hunt, but upon arriving back with a field mouse clenched in her talons, the campsite was vacant.
“Quinn?” she called, her marble-like eyes surveyed the charred remains of a fire. They’ve left without me! “Quinn, can you hear me?”
The behavior was not out of the ordinary for Quinn. However, given the circumstances, Ara was not so sure this was ordinary behavior. Her feathery heart fluttered violently as she swept in circles overhead until she tired.
Hyperventilating, Ara continued to fly. She was Quinn’s watcher. They were bound together in a sacred bond. Martin made Ara swear an oath when Quinn was young, to protect her and keep her nose rightfully moral— which she’d little luck in doing thus far.
But Quinn was lost.
Her oath shattered.
Catching the quarreling winds to head east for Oak Hill was the only idea at this moment. There was a chance they would rendezvous there. At least, Ara yearned.
Over the intertwined sunshades, Ara whipped like a bolt in the free-flowing air. A plume of smoke rose high into the clouds on the distant horizon. Oak Hill. Half days flight from her judgment. Never mind the vexatious sun pestering her nocturnal vision, never mind birds of prey lurking. Never mind it all. Ara had sworn an oath, and it would be upheld.
Bushy caramel wings flapped through the vast skies for promising findings.
Quinn needed her.
Ara needed to find her.
22
The village of Lochwald had river elves.
River what? Billy speculated.
“Elves,” Rose mumbled.
“Do you they have pointed ears?”
“Yes, but don’t stare too intently,” she whispered, “they don’t like people who cast judgments on them, even with their eyes.”
When they arrived in Lochwald, a village less than half the territory of Woolbury, Billy could hardly classify the elves as a descendant from his ancestral tree. Their bodies were covered in straight hair, more than the average man. Their arrow-shaped ears broke through straight to the skies. Men and women alike, their appearances were not dissimilar, apart from the appropriate female curves and soft bone structures, they looked identical.
Lochwald was a fishing settlement posted on the banks of the Winding River. A collection of lanky multi-leveled houses called volitares floated like wooden vessels on the icy waters. Elvish men spent their days gathering and spinning fishing nets into its violent current. Whereas the women raised the families. A traditional way of living.
A group of little elvish children giggled and ran before Rose’s cart nearly spooking Lapis. They were playing a game. It reminded Billy of the games he played as a young boy, except this game looked like it involved throwing a small animal. At first glance, the game looked torturous, but laughter erupted from the beast in playful spirits.
Their game halted.
“Why are they staring at us?” Billy muttered, taking note of what Rose told him not to do.
“They don’t see many people come this way anymore.” Rose nodded her head in a friendly gestu
re at a group of elves, who were leaning on their iron fishing spears. “Just don’t do anything to cause suspicion. Once we get over their bridge, all will be well.”
An enormous bridge stretched over the river in Lochwald, built by the accumulation of seasonal driftwood. There, they would need to cross in order to maintain their path. Lochwald would be yet another passing sight if all went according to Rose's wishes.
Unwanted attention proceeded to settle on Billy as elvish fishermen and women alike paused what they were doing to watch with unblinking eyes as they rolled by. A little elvish girl ran over to the cart’s side and handed Billy a turquoise flower. Her little hairy fingers stretched out as Billy accepted. It reminded him of the granny’s bonnet growing in Ms. Menagerie’s garden at the estate; drape-like petals danced in the chilling winds with a scent your nose would never forget.
The girl grinned in embarrassment and ran back to fall in her mother’s arms. Billy twisted the green stem in his fingers, half blushing. The flower was mesmerizing. A beauty. “Thanks!” he cried out. The gifter waved back in delight. Billy tucked the flower’s long stem into his coat pocket and gave it a smell.
Bewilderment, Rose furrowed her brow. “Remember what I said? Be cautious,” she said through tight lips, attempting to maintain her composure.
“It was only a token of good faith,” Billy said, unable to take his eyes from the flower. “Nothing more. Just innocent.”
“Gestures are always repaid,” Rose replied, nodding her head at another group of fishing men. “Elves are always in need of help. We can’t have any—”
Thud! The cart’s wheel slammed into a pothole. The spokes snapped like twigs. And the entirety of the wheel bobbed off down the ditch.
“Darn!” Rose said, throwing her reins in frustration. “Just when everything was going right.”
“Looks like we’re the ones in need of help,” Billy said, judging by the unevenness on the coach seat.
“I can have it repaired by morning,” Rose sighed as others came to assist. “Thank you, thank you… you can leave it there,” she said to the elves. “No… no, it’s not necessary.”
“I’m going to have a look around,” Billy said. He jumped down from the box seat before Rose could say otherwise. He needed to stretch his cramped legs and something about Lochwald interested him. He couldn't tell if it was because of the floating houses or the eerie feeling that floated through the air. This place felt like it had things hidden, and he wanted to discover them.
Billy took into a deep breath of the river air and yawned. The volitares floating on the stream, those he wanted to have a closer look at. A peculiar arrangement. Billy raised an eye. The volitares were stacked three stories high. Surely a construction of no skilled craftsman, but a work of art. The roof trusses were uneven. The windows not perfectly square, and the walls were not fully airtight, judging by the holes. Nonetheless, he marveled in their presence while nets full of fish flopped onto the decked bottoms. An aroma of spiced herbs flowing from the third story windows lofted to rest on his palate.
“Oi!” groaned a fisherman with long unkempt brown hair resting over his face. It prohibited one from seeing its complete picture. “Reel em in!”
Billy watched. They retrieved their spun nets, grabbing the fish with their bare hands. It was something he had never seen before. The women and children worked side by side on the decks with knives, and all, processing what the fishermen threw at them. They gutted the silver trouts and wrapped them in segments of seaweed.
“Great day for fish,” Billy muttered to himself. He saw the same little girl who’d given him the flower. She was running down the floating docks towards, what he thought was her father. The river soaked elvish man leaned down and embraced her with a kiss on her forehead. He probably stank of fish. But they all did. And they were quite happy about it.
When the embrace was over, the girl snatched one of the fish from the nets and threw it back into the waters. An innocent sight, Billy thought looking at the flower on his coat pocket. Lochwald remedied the dark thoughts of his earlier conversation with Rose. The small town was proof good things can always endure in the face of great evil. Although he had not been here for long, Evinar was starting to feel like a place he could picture calling home. It had accepted him this far. What’s not to say he would, too.
“Reel em in!” the fisherman cried aloud once more. The elves heaved and tugged. And once their net broke the surface, it was revealed to be bountiful.
Billy slowly walked the length of the dock, itching to see the art of net fishing a tad bit closer, but there was a struggle. The collective strength of the four elves men was not enough. A tug of war was being won by the fins of the fish. “Mind giving us a hand?” the fisherman called, looking at Billy’s gingerly face.
Startled and caught off guard, Billy ran to join the contest.
It felt like hours until the net was on the deck, and all the fish were accounted for. Billy was dripping in sweat by then, uncomfortable. That was when the elves broke into a spoke of victory in a language unknown to his ears.
Once their hymn finished, the fisherman approached Billy.
“Thank ya kindly,” he said, fanning the hair from his face. He had dark narrow eyes weathered with distress. Deep lines ran over his forehead and under his eyes, his cheeks trickled with stray curled hairs. His tall-lengthy stature towered over Billy’s short British height. “Don’t think we could have held it alone. We are indebted to your kindness.”
“Oh,” Billy’s eyes fell to his boots. "It was nothing…glad to have helped.”
“Our families will have enough to eat through the harsh ice storms of winter. We are indebted to you. We elvish do not dismiss generosity so lightly.”
The system was impressive. The women had already started to wrap unmoving fish into seaweed and kelp. While the children stacked them as neatly as children had the patience for, in a smoking chamber. Another elvish woman was splitting some kindling for the smoldering fire.
“Faelar,” the fisherman said, “You can call me Faelar.”
“Faelar,” he said, pressing his lips together in a smirk. “You can call me Billy.”
“That over there is Darfin,” he was pointing to the flower girl's father. He nodded his head in acknowledgment. “And that’s Ralnor, Ellisar, and lastly, Katar.” Ralnor was Faelar’s eldest brother and a grouch at that. He looked Billy over with bothersome eyes and then vacated the deck. Ellisar was Faelar’s cousin from his mother’s side and half the age on his face than Faelar. And Katar, who was Faelar’s brother-in-law, appeared similar in age to Billy, or at least he thought. Katar bowed before Billy as if he was royalty. It sparked a kindly laugh.
“At last… man,” Katar chuckled with slimy hands. “Come to fill our lockers of fish and not for acts of deceit.” The sarcastic remarks had no relevance to Billy, but to Katar, they were a knife to be jabbed.
“I want to invite you to dine with us tonight as a guest to repay you,” Faelar said, wiping his filthy hands with a square of linen. Ellisar scoffed and walked away avoiding his eyes with Billy. “Excuse his rudeness. Ellisar holds a certain grudge for others, unlike our kind. A character flaw nonetheless, it’s not every day we see a man wander through our village. It’s been a long time.”
“I can tell,” Billy retorted as Ellisar trudged inside his dimly lit volitare. “I would be honored.”
“Until then… Lyra?” Faelar cried, his dark hair whipped around.
“Yes?” said one of the many wrapping fish in kelp.
“Give this here Billy a proper display of Lochwald… show him it all.”
“Even the ruins?” she squeaked.
“Especially the ruins. If you don’t mind. I’ll excuse myself. Lyra will keep you in good hands.” Faelar dismissed himself with a slight grin, and Lyra took Billy by the hand.
Lyra was the youngest daughter to Ralnor, the kind of being whose innocence had yet to wither away. She matched Billy in height but doubled him
in size. Lyra’s nose was pointed at the end, and her hair was braided resembling a fishtail. She wore lean scarps of tanned hides, and a single robe of fishing line was tied around her neck holding a bone.
“Try to keep up,” Lyra spatted.
Billy hurried away from her.
She skipped down the dock.
Lyra was an inquisitive elf. The intricate parts of Lochwald seen through her eyes were exactly what Billy required. He couldn’t help but think of the life she’d live. It’s was far more than his own. Apart from the volitares afloat on the river, Lochwald was a bridge and a few harvest patches of grain and other sorts of vegetables unknown to him. She’d taken the liberty of introducing him to a few of the other children, who seemed timid and not in the same fashion of hospitality as Lyra. Something about Billy’s hairless skin set him apart from the others and put fear into their eyes. He was determined to figure out why. Katar’s words were unkind for a reason.
“Famie Yeut,” she called out, each time her wide smile stretched to reveal a gap where her front teeth should have been. Lyra carried a small pouch with her that was tied with a bit of scrap rope from a fishing net. She stuffed all sorts of different colored flowers inside as they walked through a meadow eastward. “Famie Yeut,” she said again, lifting her furry finger to a cluster of jagged stones protruding from the soil.
Billy’s eyes traced the outlines of the uneven stones. Carved deep in the stone were depressions of decay. These were old, ancient stones from long ago. His fingertips brushed over, feeling the history hidden inside them.
“You must climb down to see the ruins,” her little voice said. Behind one of the stones was a small opening, perfect size to crawl in, like an ax wound in the grass. String similar to the type on her pouch draped inside the hole.
“Will it hold?” he asked, looking at the thin line and pulling on with all his strength.
“We elves know how to make a robe,” Lyra giggled. She motioned with her hand for him to descend. “Trust is the first step.”
The Shadow of Our Stars: The Tales of Evinar Page 16