Of Liars and Thieves

by Gabriela Lavarello

  “Finriel, I must say …” Finriel swirled around as Tedric’s slurred words continued from behind. “I never thought of you to wear your hair green.”

  Finriel grabbed her braid and furrowed her brow. It was the same chocolate brown as it had been since the day she was born. She stared at the commander in confusion, then found that both he and Lorian were swaying slightly and their eyes were glazed over as they regarded their surroundings in awe.

  “My hair is not green,” Finriel shot back. She wasn’t sure why that remark bothered her. Perhaps it was the strange, sickly sweet mist that now enveloped them.

  “You look like you need a hug.”

  Lorian lurched forward with his arms outstretched, and Finriel leaped back in alarm, barely avoiding the brush of his fingertips. Lorian stumbled and tripped, giggling as he collided upon the mossy ground and pressed up on his hands and knees. Tedric began to laugh alongside Lorian, and he too bent over to place his hands on the ground and flop over onto his back. The blue mist swirled and thickened, settling around them and obscuring Finriel’s vision of anything but Nora and her companions.

  “What’s wrong with you two?” Finriel snapped, annoyance beginning to ebb at the ever-present hole inside her chest.

  Lorian gazed up at Finriel from his seat on the ground and smiled softly. She pressed her lips together and fought against the lurch in her stomach that occurred every time their eyes met.

  He left you to die. He doesn’t care about you. He never cared about you and never will. Finriel forced herself to look away and watch Tedric as he rolled over and stretched out halfway over Lorian, who now appeared to be falling asleep.

  “Get up!” Finriel hissed, glancing around in frustration. “You two are acting like idiots.”

  “They can’t hear you. The mist has already overtaken their senses,” said a silky and almost snakelike voice.

  She whirled around to find who had spoken. Her pulse quickened in alarm as her eyes landed on the person, or rather the thing, that spoke. The creature was tall and willowy, its milky white skin shining unnaturally from an unknown light. Soft white hair sprouted from the creature’s head and fell around two very long pointed ears. Finriel knew what it was. It was a shapeshifter.

  “You silly girl,” the shapeshifter crooned in a mocking tone that dripped with venom.

  Nora growled at Finriel’s side, the thick fur of her hackles rising in alarm. Finriel took a step back and placed a comforting hand on Nora’s back, glancing quickly to where Tedric and Lorian were now facing each other, sitting cross-legged and giggling silently.

  Something deep within Finriel’s gut clenched, and her skin felt hot with charged magic, the chill fall air of the forest fading from her awareness. She silently brought up her energetic shields and drew her dagger, praying to the goddesses that the shapeshifter hadn’t noticed her magic. The shapeshifter laughed, tossing its head back to reveal three rows of razor sharp teeth glinting in its mouth.

  “Please, there is no point in trying to hide your powers from me, witch.”

  Finriel gulped and gripped her dagger tightly as she continued to draw up her magical shields. Nora began to circle Lorian and Tedric, her amber gaze set intently upon the shapeshifter.

  “How do you know what I am?” Finriel asked, forcing her voice to come out evenly. She cursed when her voice cracked, and the shapeshifter laughed again. Finriel’s stomach gave an uneasy flop at the black forked tongue that flicked out of the shapeshifter’s mouth.

  “There are a few key points that gave the fact that you are a witch away. Would you like me to name them?”

  Finriel didn’t answer, but kept her gaze steady, forcing the rising panic in her chest to fade into an emotionless haze.

  “No answer? Well, I will tell you anyway. For one …” It took a step forward and Finriel took a step back, her breath catching as razor sharp claws sprouted from the shapeshifter’s delicate fingers. “My mist only works on those of powerless blood, since any amount of magic blocks my drug from entering one’s bloodstream. You are not affected by the mist, whilst your two tasty-looking friends were knocked senseless the moment I freed it into the forest.”

  It took another step, and Finriel took another step back, careful not to tread over her drugged companions.

  “Second, I feel your magic oozing from you as if you were a freshly killed beast still bleeding from its wound.”

  Finriel let the emotionless haze go and replaced it with the familiar, comforting blanket of anger. Her anger was her safe place, her armor. She supposed she could thank the now useless thief grabbing at her ankles for that. Finriel forced a wicked smile to her lips and she glared straight into the shapeshifter’s pearly eyes.

  “If you like my magic so much, then why don’t you come and get it?” Finriel dared, tightening her grip on her dagger.

  “Careful now, or you might be cursed for breaking the peace law,” the shapeshifter crooned.

  A harsh bark of laughter escaped from Finriel’s mouth. “I have never felt peace, nor has anything I have ever done brought me satisfaction or happiness. I could be cursed already for all that matters.”

  The shapeshifter’s colorless eyes widened and its black tongue slithered hungrily across its lower lip once more.

  “So be it. You’ve chosen to become my little snack.”

  The creature took another step forward, its claws reaching for Finriel’s face. Nora growled and began to leave her station by Tedric and Lorian to stand at Finriel’s side.

  “It’s okay,” Finriel whispered. “I have it under control.”

  Another growl emanated from Nora’s large body as she ignored her master’s words and stepped closer. Finriel cursed under her breath and shot the mogwa a look that promised consequences if she didn’t listen. The mogwa growled again and returned to her post by the two men, and Finriel nodded in approval.

  “Now, what are you waiting for?” Finriel snapped at the shapeshifter. “Just kill me if you’re so keen.”

  The shapeshifter retracted its tongue from its lips and smiled. “With pleasure.”

  The shapeshifter lunged forward with unnatural speed, and Finriel barely had time to scream before it was upon her, a razor sharp claw raking against the bust of her armor. A pained gasp tore from Finriel’s throat as she lowered her head to find a faint trickle of blood dripping from the wound, but there was no time to feel pain. She staggered backwards and heard a grunt as her foot collided with one of her companion’s appendages.

  “Men are so useless,” she hissed under her breath, allowing the anger to rise in her chest, and her magic along with it. Quick as an arrow, Finriel raised her hand and threw the weapon, not even bothering to hide her quick words that magically bound the blade to find its target. She knew that the blow would not kill the shapeshifter, only slow it down. She had no intention of killing the shapeshifter, for the thought of being cursed for the rest of her life was more frightening than the now hissing creature before her.

  A sickening thunk reverberated through the cold air as the worn dagger sunk deep into the shapeshifter’s abdomen, a sharp hiss escaping from its lips.

  “You stupid bitch.”

  The shapeshifter wrenched the dagger from its stomach, inky black blood oozing steadily out of the wound. The dagger fell to the mossy forest floor, and Finriel stood in silent shock as a smile returned to the creature’s lips. The shapeshifter quickly began to transform, and Finriel watched in horrified fascination as the luminous white skin on the creature’s body began to simply fall off. She grimaced in disgust as the skin fell onto the mossy ground with soft thuds. What was once a terrifyingly beautiful being was now something out of Finriel’s nightmares. Muscle and flesh held together by nothing but a slimy black-boned skeleton hovered in the mist. In another split second, a new body began to form and the skeleton dissipated into the same dark blue mist that bathed the forest.

  A pop rang through the air and the mist disappeared. Finriel’s mouth fell open and she had t
o look down at her own hands to make sure she was still there before she looked back up. Her exact mirror image stood a few feet away, smiling evilly at her. Yet instead of Finriel’s own exotic eyes, this Finriel’s eyes were the same dead pearly white color as the body the shapeshifter had been moments ago. The shapeshifter wearing Finriel’s skin smiled broader and gave a spin, its dark brown hair swinging lazily behind what looked like her own back as it did so.

  “Now you can have a fair fight, you filthy witch.”

  Finriel clenched her fists and glanced at her dagger, wishing that she knew a spell that could force it back into her grasp. A sudden wave of dizziness swept over her and Finriel shook her head, her vision coming in and out of focus. She took a step forward and growled, forcing down a wave of magic that swept through her body. She could not use it, not after suppressing the wild beast within that craved to be free for so long. Finriel blinked her vision into focus and glared at the grinning shapeshifter that wore her face.

  “Give me your worst,” Finriel spat.

  Razor sharp claws protruded from Finriel’s—no—the shapeshifter’s hands and it widened its stance. Before Finriel could move, a blur of grey fur and a scream echoed through the forest. Nora bounded away from the shapeshifter, revealing a deep crimson gash along the mirror image of Finriel’s own smooth neck. Tan skin fell from the shapeshifter’s body, and the blackened skeleton dissipated into dark blue mist once more. Finriel gasped in shock. At once, her vision began to fade and she blinked quickly in an attempt to focus on the blurry figure of a girl and a small man who now stood in place of the shapeshifter.

  “Have you been hurt?” the melodic voice sounded from the girl, and Finriel blinked again, still trying to focus her blurred vision.

  Long violet hair was draped across her shoulder, Finriel was sure of that. Dark leather armor clung to her delicate form, accentuating the girl’s athletic figure. A plain black cloak was secured at her throat, and Finriel could barely make out the hilt of a thin sword hanging at her belt. She opened her mouth to speak, but it seemed as if her tongue had lost the ability to form words.

  Red hot pain stabbed through Finriel’s lungs and she looked down at her chest again. She felt something hot and sticky under her fingers as she touched her wound. She gasped as she brought her hand up to find it coated in crimson, and quickly brought it down again, pressing harder against the wound. Suddenly, colorful splotches darted across her vision and her knees buckled, though Finriel didn’t feel a thing as her body hit the mossy ground and her mind swirled into darkness.

  5

  Lorian

  Lorian opened his eyes to the sensation of something wet pressing against his forehead. He jerked back with a start, eyes focusing upon Nora, who was seated by his side, a loud meow reverberating through her body as she retracted her nose from his face. Lorian coughed and sputtered, glancing away from Nora to find himself lying upon the ground, engaged with Tedric in a tight embrace.

  “What in the goddesses—” Lorian faltered and quickly untangled himself from the warrior before he scrambled to his feet.

  The world spun slightly as he straightened, and he took a bracing step forward to find his balance. His head felt surprisingly clear, though he knew that the mist had been the culprit for his strange nap with Tedric. The blue mist was gone and Millris Forest was alight with birdsong and animal chatter once more. The sweet scent of flowers had returned, and Lorian found that he did not mind it as much now. His ears prickled at the sound of the nearby stream and wildlife around him, and he heaved a sigh of relief. Yet the relief was washed away when he looked down to find black and red blood spattered across the mossy floor, as well as a crumpled body feet away.

  “Finriel.”

  Lorian ran to the witch and crouched by her fallen form. Nora’s light footsteps approached and she stopped by Finriel’s head, meowing loudly in Lorian’s ear before she placed a large paw on Finriel’s side and gently rolled the witch onto her back. Lorian sucked in a breath at the torn flesh that marred her chest. Nora meowed again and began to pace a small circle around her unconscious master.

  “Don’t worry, I’ve given her a healing draught. She’ll live.”

  Lorian jumped at the unfamiliar female voice and spun around to find a complete stranger crouched next to Tedric’s slumbering form, her fingers pressed against his neck to check his pulse. Nora growled and prowled at the girl, and Lorian lurched forward to grab her by the scruff. The mogwa hissed and shot him an amber glare, but he didn’t let go. Finally, she let out another dejected meow and turned back toward her master, obeying Lorian’s silent command to stand down.

  The girl’s pale hand was stark against Tedric’s slightly tanned skin, and her delicate features appeared almost unearthly as she turned to meet Lorian’s stare. Her green almond-shaped eyes bore into his, her long dark lashes curling upward, giving her a sultry stare. Her full lips were curled slightly downward into a scowl as she turned her attention back to Tedric. Strands of dark violet hair escaped from the single long braid draped around her shoulder and swayed at her side as she exchanged her weight from one foot to the other. Lorian placed a protective hand on Finriel’s still body as he spotted long pointed ears peaking from under the strange young woman’s hair.

  “You’re a fairy,” Lorian blurted.

  “I appreciate your observation, but I already know what I am, thank you.”

  Lorian turned back to Finriel and brushed her cheek with a shaking hand. Her skin was cold, but a faint warmth was slowly returning. Her dark hair was matted against her forehead with sweat, and her eyelids fluttered as she fought against the pain.

  “It was the poison in the shapeshifter’s claws. It makes one lose consciousness and eventually fade to the Nether if the correct healing draught is not administered in time. It’s their way of killing without breaking the peace law.”

  “And you carry this healing draught with you at all times just waiting for a rogue shapeshifter to slash open your chest?” Lorian asked quizzically.

  The girl smirked. “Shapeshifters breed like rabbits in this region of Proveria, so I’ve learned to always be prepared.”

  Lorian studied the fairy girl, fear and worry rising in his chest. She stepped back as Tedric groaned and blinked his eyes open, groggily surveying the forest around him before he squinted up at her in confusion. His eyes widened and he moved to stand, but the girl quickly placed a hand on his shoulder to keep him down.

  “You’ll be okay, you’re just recovering from the effects of the mist.”

  “Who are you?” Tedric demanded, his low voice slightly raspy from misuse.

  Lorian glanced between Tedric and the fairy, and raised a brow as they merely stared at each other. The girl shook her head slightly, her pale skin flushing.

  “Really? One of you tells me what I am, and the other asks.” She quickly regained her haughty composure and turned to face Lorian. “Why don’t you tell your friend, since you seem to know so well?”

  Lorian pressed his lips together and raised his arms to show he was not a willing contender in the conversation. The girl sighed in annoyance and brought her attention back to Tedric, who was now examining her with an expression of both lust and apprehension. It was a combination of emotions that Lorian would not have guessed suited each other, but his new companion seem utterly unaware of his enraptured state.

  “I’m—”

  “I’ve got it!” a high-pitched male voice called from a tight group of bushes a few meters away.

  The bushes rustled and a small man emerged from them at full speed, a clump of what appeared to be moldy fruit clutched in his childlike hands. The man stopped as he noticed Tedric and Lorian both staring at him and gave a weak smile. His excited expression quickly molded into one of severe neutrality as the gnome strode toward them.

  His short legs were clad in bright red pants, and his loose fitting brown tunic was covered partly by a worn leather vest decorated with dozens of pockets varying in size. A small gre
y hat was perched atop his head, and shaggy mouse brown hair hung around the tops of his shoulders, framing his round face and storm grey eyes.

  “I see that you are all mostly awake,” the gnome observed, and inclined his head in greeting to Lorian, who nodded back to the little man.

  The gnome walked the last steps toward them and stopped next to the girl and Tedric. He offered her the odd plant and she took it with a slight grimace. She ripped off a small piece, a terrible squelching noise echoing through the air as it was torn apart. Her nose wrinkled as she handed a chunk of the plant to Lorian and nodded at Finriel.

  “Chew it up and spread it over your friend’s wound. It will extract the poison from her blood and heal the cut.”

  Lorian reluctantly took the fuzzy green plant and dropped his gaze to Finriel. She was deathly pale and shivering, beads of sweat streaming down her face. Lorian forced down the tightness in his chest and crouched at her side.

  “If only you could be conscious to see the things I’m still willing to do for you,” he whispered. With a final displeasing lurch of his stomach, Lorian shoved the plant into his mouth and began to chew. An explosion of rot and sourness filled his mouth and Lorian forced back a gag. He shoved the disgusting plant into the corner of his mouth and spat sickly green liquid to the mossy ground.

  “What in Nex’s name is this shit?”

  An excited smile bloomed on the gnome’s face at Lorian’s question and he stepped forward.

  “Well, it’s actually quite an interesting fable. Legends say that the goddess Noctiluca created this root to aid the fairies’ healing during the War of Seven Kingdoms. It can heal nearly any wound in half the time—”