by Casey Odell
A floor length white robe with voluminous sleeves had been tied loosely around her. She undid the sash to reveal a mound of bandages wrapped around her midriff. Her right arm had been wrapped too. Overall, she felt surprisingly good, although her body still seemed very weak. She swung her legs over the side of the bed and stretched them out in front of her to examine them. A string of bruises stretched up each leg and she was sure the rest of her body looked the same. She sighed. At least she was still alive.
She wriggled herself closer to the edge of the bed until her feet touched the cool wooden boards of the floor, curious about her new surroundings and the whereabouts of the elf. Was Aeron here as well?
Restlessness swelled up inside of her. She was sure she’d been cooped up in the room long enough. So she pushed off the bed, balancing herself with a hand on the bedside table. Her feet felt strange. She took a step forward, and then another, slowly as if she were just learning to walk again, until she reached the curtains and drew one aside. The window was closed and shuttered, much to her dismay. Perhaps they didn’t want her to escape-- although that seemed like a silly idea, considering the condition she was in. Old, frail Mrs. Wilfred that used to live down the street could have stopped and subdued her in her current state.
Disappointed, but not defeated, she made her way to the door and cracked it open to peek out. A dim hallway stretched to each side, lined with doors similar to hers.
She ran her fingers through her loose hair and tied the sash on her robe securely. Craning her neck out into the hallway, she looked in either direction, wishing silently for a coin. Both ways looked the same from her standpoint. She slipped out and decided to go left.
The hall was quiet; the only sound was of her bare feet as they padded softly on the floorboards. The corridor opened up to a small circular room with a tiny round table in the center covered in white flowers. The hall continued straight, and to the left were a set of doors, opened wide to let the cool night air drift in.
A blue glow far off in the dark caught her eye. Her curiosity piqued, she made her way out through the doors onto a terrace. A thin, delicate rail wound halfway around it before leading down a set of steps to her right. She hesitated for a moment. Stairs probably weren’t a good idea in her condition.
She looked back at the faint glow. Tiny pinpricks of light danced through the air above a round pond several paces away at the end of a winding, cobblestone path. Trees filled the surrounding area, shielding the ground from the moon’s silvery light.
The same feeling filled her, the one she felt back at the Haven of being drawn. Like a compulsion. A fascination. Was there magic here too?
She took a deep breath and mounted the top of the stairs. She couldn’t let them win, after all.
“Claire!”
She felt her shoulders being shaken as hands gripped the tops of her arms tightly. She opened her eyes and Farron’s face loomed close above hers.
“Are you alright? What are you doing here?” He began to look her over.
“I’m fine, Farron.” She leaned back against a tree stump, her body strewn out on the hard ground. “I just fell asleep is all.”
She had made it halfway down the path that led to the pond when fatigue struck. It had taken her awhile to safely descend the stairs. She had conquered them, but unfortunately the feat drained her energy. So she found a spot to lie, leaned against a nice tree trunk, and here she was.
He let out a heavy breath and the tension eased from his shoulders. His hands dropped from her arms as he knelt beside her.
A white shirt with long sleeves and dark slacks replaced his usual black outfit. It was a nice change.
“You should be resting.”
“I just did, thank you.” She sat up and began the process of raising herself to her feet again.
Farron stood and grabbed her gently by the arm to help her up. Then she began her journey once more. The tiny blue lights still flitted above the pond at the end of the path.
“Claire.” Farron’s stern voice stopped her in her tracks.
She’d only gotten a few steps away from him before she turned around to face him. His arms were folded in front of him and he wore a look of obvious disapproval.
“I’ve rested enough for now.” Defiance teemed inside of her. “Now, you can either help me get to my destination or leave. Either way, I’m not going back until I find out what those are.” She pointed behind her.
Farron sighed as he ran a hand over his head. Claire turned and continued slowly down the path. She’d just have to do it on her own then. Not even a moment later, she was swept off her feet and a sharp yelp escaped her throat. The elf carried her the remainder of the way, with a scowl on his face, and set her down near the pond.
Slightly flustered, she smoothed a hand over her robe to make sure everything was still in place and said, “Thank you.”
She turned to face the small pool and knelt down on her knees along the edge. The cobblestone path wound around the pond and a low stone railing encircled the area. She leaned out to inspect the flitting lights. A blue glow formed along the edges of tiny wings, like a butterfly or a moth. The rest was hard to make out in the dark.
“What are they?” She glanced back at the elf who sat down behind her and leaned back against the railing.
He looked at her, the scowl fading from his face. “Fijärilin,” he said a little reluctantly. “They’re the physical manifestation of the magic that still runs through the land…” He looked away from her.
“So, they’re not real?”
“No.”
She studied him closely, narrowing her eyes. Was he pulling her leg again? He ignored her and closed his eyes as he leaned his head back against the rail.
They sat quietly for a little while until finally she asked, “Where’s Aeron?”
“We split up back in Rodem to search for you.”
Regret stabbed through her chest as she remembered how she’d left. And she did so with such a cowardly man in the end. All the memories of what happened came flooding to her mind in a sudden rush. She had risked throwing away everything for that man, and in the end she had been just another pawn. Expendable. Treated like an object, all because of the damn mark on her arm.
Tears welled up in her eyes and her shoulders slumped forward. She buried her face in her hands and began to sob uncontrollably, her shoulders and breath trembling. She’d almost died. More times than she would like to count. Her body was sore, bruised and most likely scarred. On top of that, she still had no idea how she’d defeated that beast or how to use the magical powers that had finally decided to become useful. She’d lost everything and was still no closer to finding her mother or solving the mystery of the centaurs.
She felt a hand on her shoulder. “Come here, Claire,” Farron said softly from behind her.
His hand slid down to her arm and he began to pull gently from where he sat, but she resisted, turning her face further away from him. She began to wipe her tears away with her free hand in vain. It was embarrassing to lose herself this much in front of the elf. She didn’t want him to see the mess she’d become.
“Claire, come here.” His voice was more urgent.
Reluctantly, she let him draw her back against him. He leaned back against the railing and wrapped his arms tightly around her. Stunned, she tensed up, tears still streaming freely down her cheeks.
“I won’t tell anyone,” he whispered as he leaned his cheek on the top of her head.
Slowly, she relaxed and buried her face in his shirt, her hands balling up in the fabric at his sides. The sobbing resumed, her body trembling down to the tip of her toes. Somehow, all the emotional wounds seemed to hurt more than the physical ones. Funny how that worked.
Farron stroked the back of her head with his hand, combing his fingers through her hair. It felt odd being in his embrace, but it was always nice to have someone’s shoulder to cry on. She didn’t know how he really felt about her, but oddly enough, he was the one th
at was always there to help when she needed it. Even after all the unkind things she’d said and done to the elf, he still came for her. She knew she should thank him for all the other things he’s done for her, but she didn’t know where to start. Her heart was shattered and her mind was a mess among other things. Surely, he would understand, right?
She pushed the thoughts aside and let the tears carry away all her frustrations. After a while, the tears subsided and the trembling in her body calmed. Her eyes grew heavy again and she surrendered willingly to the darkness.
She awoke slowly, stretching her body as she shifted. Her hands clenched onto the soft fabric that rested underneath her cheek and she took a deep breath. A heartbeat filled her ears and the arm around her shoulders squeezed a little tighter.
“Look,” Farron said. His hand was held up in the air a few inches from her face. One of the glowing butterflies fluttered around it for a few seconds before landing on a finger.
Claire’s eyes squinted as she examined the strange creature. She raised her right hand up next to his, the tips of her fingers free from the tight cloth that wrapped around her entire forearm. Blue light radiated along the edges of round wings, the rest of its body was transparent, like a ghostly apparition. It fluttered up in the air and circled around her hand before it landed on one of her fingers. A cool feeling spread to her hand and up her wrist to her arm, followed by a sharp sting where her skin had been cut. She gasped and snatched her hand away to tuck it between her and the elf.
Farron’s laugh vibrated through his chest and Claire froze, suddenly aware of her situation. She tilted her head up to peer at him. The cloth of his shirt beneath her had been soaked with tears. She must have fallen asleep again. Confused, she pushed herself up away from him as heat rose to her cheeks, steadying herself with a hand on his chest as she sat up. Why didn’t she hate it as much as she thought she would?
He looked at her curiously as the laughter faded from his face.
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“I fell asleep again,” she paused and looked down at her hand still on his chest before she snatched it away, “and your shirt’s all wet. Why didn’t you wake me up?”
He shrugged. “I didn’t feel like it.”
“Aren’t you tired?”
“Aren’t you?” he asked, amused.
Claire turned away to let out a deep breath.
She stared at the bobbing blue butterflies, waiting for her embarrassment to subside. She was grateful that it was dark and hoped the elf couldn’t pick up on it. Although she had the suspicion he already did. He would certainly add this to his growing list.
“Oh, right,” Farron said. Claire glanced back at him as he leaned to one side to fish something out of his pocket. “I believe this belongs to you.” He took her left hand and slipped her mother’s bracelet onto her wrist.
She opened her mouth to thank him, but remembered just how exactly he’d acquired it in the first place. “I’m sorry,” she stopped for a moment as she searched for the right words, “for what I said that night. And for running away.”
“You don’t need to keep apologizing, Claire. We all do crazy things for love.” He flashed his famous grin. “Although, I think fighting a Roain and almost dying is going a little too far. That thing you fought, it was a beast of old. Most of them were sealed away with magic, but the seals must be wearing off.”
“It’s not like I had much of a choice.” She narrowed her eyes at him; his hand still gripped her left wrist. “Are you saying you wouldn’t fight a giant feline for the one you loved? And here I thought you were so tough.” She glanced away as a smile curled her lips.
“I believe you already beat me to it, my lady.”
Claire tensed, her eyebrows furrowed together. What was that supposed to mean? She snapped her attention back to the elf, suddenly remembering something. “Your hair!” Sitting up on her knees, she scooted closer to him and grabbed a handful of his silvery white hair on each side of his face. “It was black the other day, or whenever it was. Why? And for that fact, how long have I been out? Where are we?”
Farron’s hands gripped her wrists gently as he tried to pull her hands away from his hair. “Indeed it was. I needed to in order to get past the guard check on the other side of the rift, along with half of my remaining coin. We are currently in Derenan at a Haven. I used to frequent the place when I was younger and it’s the first place I could think of that could heal you. You’ve been in and out for two days now.”
Claire’s jaw dropped unintentionally. That was the most information she was ever able to get out of him at one time. “A Haven? They still exist?”
“A few, yes. Mostly in Derenan.”
“Does that mean you’re from here?” She released his hair from her grip.
“You could say that.”
She was stunned at his sudden divulgences and she quickly tried to think of other questions she’d wanted to ask him. With his hands still gripping her wrists, he pulled her towards him once again and she fell forward against his chest.
“Far--! Wait!” Claire gasped.
He put a hand on either side of her face and tilted her head up. “Now it’s my turn to ask questions.”
Heat flushed to her cheeks.
His face grew serious as he looked down at her. “Do I want to know what he did to you?”
Claire’s hands balled into the fabric of his shirt, well at least as much as she could with her right hand. Not able to turn away from his intense gaze, she closed her eyes as the memories touched dangerously along her consciousness.
“I’d rather not talk about it right now, if that’s alright with you.” Her voice was soft as she fought the urge to cry again. The memories were still too fresh.
“Of course.” His grip relaxed a little and his thumb brushed along her cheek lightly. “Why did you run away, Claire?”
She opened her eyes to look at him and was surprised by the hurt look displayed freely on his face. She didn’t know what to say. It wouldn’t do her any good if she told him he was part of the reason why. That they refused to help look for her mother anymore. So she settled for the one answer she did know at the moment.
“I’m starving.”
Farron tensed and his eyebrows shot up in surprise. His hands dropped to her shoulders and he sighed. A smile tugged at his mouth, though he didn’t seem too thrilled at her change of subject.
“I see.” He rose to his feet and helped her up. “I may be able to help there.”
He flashed a grin at her and she felt a twinge of fear all over again. He wasn’t thinking of cooking, was he?
“Honestly, Farron! I can do it myself.” She brushed his hands away as she walked toward the long table that filled most of the little square room. A chandelier with glass globed candles dangled low, illuminating a colorful flower arrangement, while a fireplace burned brightly on the opposite wall.
“That’s what you said about the stairs.” He pulled the heavy chair out at the end of the table. “And most of the walk here. I admire your tenacity, my lady, but not if it will take all night.”
Claire plopped down in the chair and leaned against the high back. The journey to the dining room was considerably taxing. A fact that she was still trying to adjust to. And battle. When had walking become so hard? She wished the healing process would speed up and she would be better already. Even now, fatigue pulled along the edge of her mind. The injuries along her side and right arm began to throb, but all that paled to the ache in her stomach. She couldn’t remember the last time she ate. Wasn’t eating vital to one’s health? What kind of place had he taken her to, anyway?
“Stay here,” Farron said before he disappeared through a door across the room with a porthole window in it.
As if she was going anywhere. She sighed and looked around the dim room. Like the rest of the building, the walls were a dark green color and the wood covered ceiling curved elegantly up to a point. The table was made of a thick
slab of oak-seemingly made from a whole tree, smooth with use and covered with nicks and gashes along the top. Although somewhat dreary, at least they stuck with a theme.
After a few minutes, Farron emerged from the door again with a steaming bowl in his hands. He set it down quickly in front of her and rubbed his hands on his shirt. Claire smiled. It was nice to know the elf wasn’t graceful at everything. She sat forward on the edge of the chair and peered into the bowl, filled with a golden liquid.
“Did you just cook this?” She glanced up at the elf inquiringly.
“No, it was simmering over the fire.”
“Well, that’s a relief.” She picked up the metal spoon and relaxed as she tasted the warm soup, grateful it wasn’t too overbearing. “Thanks for the soup, or at least for retrieving it for me. You’re being unusually nice this evening.” She took another bite. “Maybe I should get injured more often.”
Farron leaned back against the table and crossed his arms. “I don’t recall ever being mean to you, my lady.”
“I could argue that.” She took another bite.
“I wouldn’t tease you if it wasn’t so much fun, Claire.” He grinned, glancing sideways at her.
She was too tired to rise to the occasion. Whatever answer she gave him wouldn’t stop him from teasing her anymore. It looked like she would just have to live with it and pay him back for it later. After all, even with all the teasing, at least he never tortured her. Maybe he wasn’t so mean after all, although she was too stubborn to admit it. So, she did the next best thing and changed the subject.
“Does Aeron know that we’re here?”
“No.” The smile faded from his face as he looked down in front of him.
“He’s going to be looking for us then…”
“Yes,” he said softly.
She studied him for a moment and the situation dawned on her. “You don’t want us to be found, do you?”