by Casey Odell
She turned around to begin the search for her blade. “I can’t just rely on other people anymore.” She picked up the dagger buried beneath some leaves and walked back to Aeron. “Besides, you two aren’t going to be around for the rest of my life.”
“Fine.” Aeron sighed heavily. “First of all we need to work on your footing, and your stance is all wrong.” He walked around her, like a butcher examining a cow. “You are too tense and your grip is weak. You cannot hesitate or be afraid to hurt your opponent. And you are not intimidating at all.” He stopped in front of her, arms crossed over his chest. “It will take a lot of work, but I think I can teach you some basics.”
Claire sheathed her dagger and bowed to him playfully. “I’ll try my best, master.” She glanced up at Aeron just in time to catch a flush of red on his face.
He ran his hands through his long hair. “Let us get going,” he said before he turned and started to walk ahead. The teaser had become the teased it seemed.
Claire collapsed in front of the warm fire. Sweat dripped down her skin as she took deep breaths and leaned back against an old tree stump; its earthy smell filled her lungs. She stripped off her over-shirt down to the black shirt underneath, the thin straps leaving her shoulders bare.
Aeron had kept his word and worked her like a slave.
After walking all day, they set up camp and her training began. His demeanor changed from his usual easygoing self into the serious King’s Guard that he was. His training was brutal and wore her out to near exhaustion. But, she wouldn’t give in now. She had asked for it after all.
The sun had sunk low on the horizon and cast deep shadows throughout the forest, giving them a much-needed break from its harsh rays.
Aeron plopped down next to her. He was calm and cool, barely even breaking a sweat during the whole thing. He began to carve a long stick he had found out in the woods with a small knife.
“What are you making?” she asked.
“After I build up your strength and stamina we will start practicing with these.” He held the stick up in front of him like a sword. Twigs still sprouted out from it, ruining the effect.
“With that?” She was unimpressed.
“Well, you cannot start practicing with the real thing just yet. You will get yourself killed, or worse, a limb cut off.” He smiled and returned to his carving.
This whole training thing was going to take longer than she’d thought. It just better be worth it. She glanced around the fire.
“Where’s Farron?”
“He is probably off sulking.”
“Really?” She hadn’t known he was that unhappy about the mission. Perhaps that was why he hadn’t spoken much since they left. Or since they’d met, as a matter of fact.
Aeron smirked. “You are too easy, mon lainí.”
She sighed and rolled her eyes. Perhaps she was.
“He actually volunteered for this mission, you know.”
“Why?”
“Who knows?” Aeron shrugged. “No one really knows much about him. He is not exactly forthcoming about himself, as you can tell. He came to the forest a couple years ago seeking shelter, joined the guard and worked his way up the ranks. He is on the night patrol and mostly keeps to himself.”
“So, you’re his superior then?” She was shocked. That explained some of the friction between the two.
“Of course I am.” He looked offended. “Although he is the better archer-- the best shot in the forest, in fact.”
“And what about you?”
“The most charming, of course.” A devious grin spread across his lips.
Claire got up and stretched, rolling her eyes again. She should thank the other elf properly for everything he had done for her. Also, she was curious why he’d volunteered for the mission. Why would he volunteer but then seem so unhappy about it? She picked a direction at random and headed towards the trees.
“He is to the north.” Aeron called after her. “Tell him to stop sulking and cheer up.”
She paused and turned right. That Aeron just didn’t know when to give up.
She tried to think of how to start a conversation with the aloof elf while she trudged through the trees. She couldn’t just start out with a ‘thank you’. Where would it go from there? It would end before it even started. That would be awkward, but it was really all she had at the moment.
Farron stood in a small clearing. His daggers and equipment lay in the grass along the edge of the tree line. She watched quietly as he drew an arrow and aimed at an unseen target. His movements were slow and precise, almost ritualistic.
“Would you like to try?” He released the arrow and it flew through the trees. A moment later he lowered the bow and looked over his shoulder at her.
She hesitated at the edge of the trees, surprised he had heard her approach.
“Sure,” she said as she stepped into the clearing. He held the black bow out to her and she grasped the soft leather grip that spoke of countless firings. Geometric designs crawled up the sides, carved into the wood with great care. Nothing but the best for the elves, she guessed. “What am I aiming for?”
“You can try to beat my best score.”
She came closer and followed his gaze. Several arrows protruded out of a tree deep into the forest.
“That!” she cried. “You really are a good shot.” She turned back to him and pointed at the target. “There’s no way I can hit that.”
“You’re not even going to try?” He raised an eyebrow. “And here I thought you wanted to learn to defend yourself.”
Claire’s face flushed. What was with that? “Fine,” she said as she thrust out her hand.
She’d show him she could do it. He handed her an arrow and she drew the string as far back as she could, aiming for the tree. She had never shot an arrow, but had watched the town’s Defense Squad practice a few times before. The string slapped her wrist after she released it, stinging the skin. The arrow flew high through the air but buried itself in the dirt just short of the line of trees.
Her mouth dropped open in disbelief. They made it look so easy.
Farron chuckled behind her. “That was terrible.”
She turned and glared at him. He did that on purpose, making her feel like a fool. Were all elves so sly? She rubbed her wrist; the welt from the bowstring was beginning to swell. It was the first time she had seen him laugh however. Maybe he wasn’t the cold distant elf she had assumed him to be.
He offered her another arrow and she snatched it from his hand.
“Here.” He put his hands on her shoulders and turned her around.
She could feel a slight flush rise to her cheeks at his closeness. He was tall. Real tall. The top of her head just barely reached his shoulder. But then again, she always was a little challenged in the height realm. And strong. Though more svelte than bulky. And striking, too. She couldn’t deny that he was attractive, though his newly revealing attitude might make her do just that.
“Keep your feet shoulder width apart, back straight. When you draw, push with your bow hand as well as pull.” He demonstrated the motion. “Remember to roll your bow arm in a little to avoid injuries. You want to keep your hand close to your chin to help you aim better, and then just release your fingers.” He let go of the imaginary bow’s string and looked down at her, waiting for her to try.
She drew the arrow and aimed at the tree, and he adjusted her hands and arms a bit. After a deep breath, she let the string go. The arrow flew into the trees, but her excitement dissipated as the arrow dug into the ground halfway to the target tree. Her arms fell limply to her side. It was better than the last one, at least.
She handed the bow back to Farron. “I don’t think archery suits me well.”
There was a slight uplifting at the corners of his mouth. He went to where his daggers lay in the grass, knelt down and started to dig around in his pack.
“Anyway,” she said, “I came here to thank you.”
He continued to d
ig through his pack, ignoring her words. She put her hands on her hips as she waited for a reply. Any reply.
He got up and walked back to her with a tiny vial in his hands. Claire’s eyes grew wide. She remembered the last time an elf had a container with liquid. The results were not pleasant. He grabbed her left hand, turned it palm up and gently rubbed a light green liquid over the welt on her wrist. The liquid was cool and tingled where the skin was red and beginning to swell.
“You have already thanked me,” he said. “You don’t need to thank me every time I save your life. Besides, you’re helping us; it’s only fair.”
“I thought I had no choice to come.”
A smirk flashed on his lips as he turned away to put the vial back in his pack. He sat down on the grass and dug a cloth out of his bag. The elf then picked up one of his blades and started to wipe it down. The long curved sheaths were wrapped in black leather, the ends capped with a dull silver metal.
He wasn’t going to make this easy.
Claire knelt before him and picked up the twin dagger. Black leather wrapped around the grip, topped off with a round pommel and guard.
“May I?” she asked.
“Be my guest.”
The blade glimmered as she carefully drew it from the sheath. Sharp on only one side, the blade was thin and curved up into a point at the end. She held the weapon up in one hand, the sheath in the other. Simple and elegant, it was as long as her forearm. It was lighter than she expected, but still had a solid feel to it.
“Why did you save me that night?” She examined the dagger, testing the weight. The question had burned at the back of her mind ever since she’d woken up in the Elvin city. She sheathed the blade and laid it down between them in the grass.
“It’s not every day you see a glowing tattoo.”
“Do you know what this is?” She held her arm out in front of her.
Farron ignored her, his gaze fixed on his dagger as he cleaned it.
“Is this the reason why you saved me that night? You know something about it, don’t you?”
He remained silent.
Irritated by his inattention, she grabbed the blade from him. “It’s rude not to look at the person talking to you.” She scrambled to her feet with the dagger clutched tight in her hands.
Farron rose to his feet slowly. His eyes pierced hers. He didn’t seem amused. Claire took a few steps back. She wasn’t so sure she wanted his attention now.
“That’s what we want to find out.” He held his hand out.
She clutched the weapon closer to her body and took another step back. He wasn’t getting it back until she got some answers.
A cocky grin flashed across his lips. “You won’t win.” He took a step towards her.
“I think I have the right to know.”
“I think you’re right.”
“Then why won’t you tell me?”
He glanced at the mark on her hand. “There’s really not much to tell.”
There was something in that look. Back in the throne room he had had the same expression in his eyes when he had seen the mark. A flash of sadness or regret. It was hard to tell since he hid his emotions well.
“You’re lying.”
Anger flashed across his face. “I was ordered not to disclose the details of the mission.”
“You’ve disobeyed orders before.”
He just smiled. She clearly wasn’t getting anywhere the way things were going.
“A challenge then.” She held the dagger out before her. “If you catch me before I reach the tree with the arrows in it, you can have your precious weapon back. If I win, you tell me the big secret.”
He took a step towards her. “You might as well just hand it over now.”
Annoyance started to bubble up underneath her skin. Perhaps it was better if the elf was quiet. This new side of him was rather surprising. Dark, brooding, even sulky she expected, but never arrogance. It didn’t suite his ethereal looks one bit.
Her rising irritation gave her a boost of confidence. She glanced towards the line of trees to the target. “Deal?”
“Fine.” He shrugged and let out a long breath.
Claire sprang for the forest. Her feet moved at a furious pace as she weaved in and out of the trees. If she ran in a zigzag pattern, she might be able to win. Resorting to games seemed rather childish, but she had to know.
About halfway to the tree, she glanced behind her. The elf was nowhere to be found, but she wasn’t sure if that was a good sign or bad. She turned at the last moment before she slammed into the elf in question. He grabbed the dagger and her hands slipped from the sheath as she lost her balance and fell back onto the ground.
“I told you, you wouldn’t win.” He leaned above her with a pleased look.
He offered her his hand, but she glared up at him instead.
“Why are you mad at me?” he asked. “You’re the thief.”
How did he get in front of her so fast? She got up and brushed the leaves and dirt from her clothes. Embarrassment swirled inside of her. He didn’t have to mock her.
She turned and started to walk back towards the clearing, suddenly ashamed by her childish antics. Mother would surely have scolded her if she were around. Unfortunately, she had never learned how to use her feminine wiles, although she had observed it nightly in the tavern. She’d just have to get her answers somewhere else then. Aeron might cave if she asked enough.
The sting of tears started in her eyes and she struggled to hold them back. She wasn’t going to cry. Not over this. She’d been through enough these past few days; she didn’t need this now. She wanted answers, progress, hope-- not mocking comments or secrets. He’d been nice before- even earlier. It was like a different side of him just suddenly appeared out of nowhere, like some sort of defense. It was hard to figure out.
She reached the clearing and started to head in the direction of the campfire.
“Wait.” Farron grabbed her arm, but he hesitated when he saw the tears running down her cheeks.
Claire yanked her arm out of his grasp. And then she was annoyed all over again. Annoyed that she couldn’t control her feelings better.
“Just leave me alone.” She wiped the tears from her cheeks with the palm of her hand. “You can do whatever you want with me-- it’s not like I have anywhere else to go anyway.”
Aeron sat in front of the campfire, still carving, still smiling. The bark was shaved off halfway down the stick and the twigs were missing, making it look a bit more like the fake sword it was supposed to be.
Claire sat down in front of the fire in silence. She had wiped away the tears before she reached camp. Aeron didn’t need to know she was upset. He’d probably be overbearing if he did.
She stared into the fire. The warm glow was inviting and somewhat soothing. She drew her knees up and wrapped her arms around them.
“I see you have discovered his charming personality,” Aeron said.
“Who said I had to be charming?” Farron sat down on a rock across the fire from Claire. He set his weapons down by his feet, avoiding her gaze.
“It is not nice to make girls cry, you know.”
“I didn’t mean to.”
Her efforts to hide her tears were in vain. She didn’t want to even look at Farron at the moment. Why did he have such a bad attitude? No one had forced him to come along on this mission.
“You have been so quiet lately, I was starting to worry,” Aeron said.
“I didn’t want to miss all your exciting stories.”
Aeron laughed. “Oh, Farron, you always have been my favorite.”
Claire stretched out onto her side, and turned her back to the warm flames and the elves. She fell asleep in a sour mood that night.
6
Tension hung stagnant in the air.
Claire had been in a bad mood since the night before and her eyes were puffy once again. Crying and no sleep took their toll on her body. She felt tired and ragged.
The
sun was low in the sky. They had walked all day through the seemingly endless forest. She hoped for a change in scenery. Instead, all she got were the same old trees.
Aeron tried to lighten the mood by telling some more of his stories. This time they focused on his adventures in the forest patrol. Claire half listened and nodded along dutifully to the tales. Farron remained several steps ahead of them as usual, quiet as ever.
She wondered when they would reach Lendon. A bath would be nice, a soft bed glorious. Although not a princess, she’d grown tired of sleeping on the hard ground. It made the bones ache and the joints stiff. She felt older than frail Mrs. Wilfred, her neighbor who was still alive and kicking after seventy five years. If there was ever proof that magic still existed, then she was it. That is, if she’d gotten away that night.
The soil turned thin and rocky. Gray boulders sprang up from the earth between the trees.
Farron stopped up ahead and waited for them to catch up. The forest ended abruptly just before a sheer drop. He stood at the edge of the cliff as he gazed out across an expansive valley.
Claire gaped as she stepped out from the forest. Now this was more like it.
The sky burned with shades of orange and red. Clouds spread through the sky, ablaze with the vibrant hues of the setting sun. The valley below was golden. The fields of tall grass and crops swayed in in waves, starting at one end and sweeping down to the other in a mesmerizing pattern. Mountains stood across from them, their imposing stature silhouetted against the colorful sky.
It looked like a painting. She’d never seen anything like it before. She stood well back from the edge of the cliff as she took it all in.
Farron pointed down into the valley. “There’s Lendon.”
She stepped slowly towards the edge and craned her neck to look where he pointed. Tiny dots of light glimmered deep down in the valley, behind immense walls of dark grey stone. The sprawling city already looked inviting. And a little bit intimidating.
“We will camp here for tonight,” Aeron pronounced.
Disappointment dulled her excitement. They were so close. “Why stop here?”