Of Liars and Thieves

by Gabriela Lavarello

  “Not now, Krete,” the fairy girl snapped.

  The gnome closed his mouth after shooting a glare at the girl and she sighed.

  “It’s veloria root. It grows in the most fertile areas of Proveria, so, surprisingly, you would be correct that it is mostly shit,” she answered, and began to help a still confused Tedric into a sitting position.

  The warrior leaned away from her warily, and he jerked his head back when the fairy reached a hand out toward a gash on his forehead, the green poultice thick on her finger.

  The girl rolled her eyes. “Do you want me to help you or not? I am glad to let that cut open even more and drip blood into your eyes.”

  Tedric curled his lip in contained frustration and slowly leaned his head toward the girl, but only enough for her to reach out her hand and place the poultice against the gash.

  Lorian raised his brows at Tedric’s silence and began to chew again, making sure to keep his tongue from touching the foul-tasting root as much as possible. Moments later, when he was at the point of gagging yet again, Lorian spat into his hand. He pressed the mushed root delicately against the long angry gash that sliced across Finriel’s chest. Lorian glanced over to the fairy and the gnome now standing a few feet away, arguing in hushed voices. The events had happened too quickly for him to think. Why had they helped? And why had he placed the root on Finriel so hastily? It could be a deadly poison for all he knew, not a plant of healing. At least he had caught the gnome’s name, Krete. To a thief, even the smallest amount of information was as valuable as a crown jewel.

  The gnome turned his head to find Lorian watching them, and he started toward him. Nora gazed at the gnome, her fuzzy ears pricking forward as she walked up to greet him. The sight was almost comical as the large cat looked like a sufficient size for the small man to ride. The gnome reached out a tentative hand for Nora to sniff, her large muzzle nearly swallowing his hand as she bent down to inspect it. A loud purr emanated from her body and her eyes closed lazily as she leaned into Krete’s touch. Lorian widened his eyes in surprise at the sight. Nora didn’t truly like anyone besides Finriel. Well, and Lorian on rare occasions.

  “Who are you two?” Tedric asked abruptly as he struggled to his feet.

  He wiped hastily at the now dried root on his forehead before looking between Krete and the fairy. His eyes lingered on the girl for a second longer than Lorian thought necessary as he waited for an answer. He thought that the commander hated fairies and anything that had to do with them, but now he looked like he was already captivated by this strange creature.

  “I’m afraid we can’t say,” the fairy girl answered, her face hardening as she stared back at Tedric.

  “And why is that?” Lorian interjected, the stare between the two of them making him far more uneasy than even he understood. There was something about the girl that set him on edge.

  The gnome appeared to have the same notion as Lorian, and he cleared his throat.

  “Because our mission is one of direst importance and we cannot tell anyone where we are going or why,” he answered, still scratching behind Nora’s ear.

  “My question is,” the fairy girl started, her gaze now directed toward Lorian, “what are a thief, a royal warrior, a mogwa, and a witch doing in Proveria?”

  “I’m afraid we can’t tell you why or where we are going either,” Tedric retorted in a testing tone. “However, if you tell us, perhaps we’ll tell you.”

  Finriel gasped, and Lorian jumped, looking down at her as her eyes fluttered open. She jerked into a sitting position, then winced and inhaled sharply as she looked down at the messily placed poultice on her chest. Lorian sighed in relief and leaned back on his heels, smiling as she looked around in confusion.

  “The shapeshifter did this to me,” Finriel groaned. “What happened—”

  “The shapeshifter is dead,” the fairy girl answered with a bland smile. “Your mogwa killed it.”

  “How is that possible?” Tedric asked, and Finriel shrugged.

  “Mogwas were born from an already cursed kingdom. Killing has never seemed to affect Nora.”

  “Animals and beasts are not affected by the curse as we are,” Krete replied with a knowledgeable gleam in his eyes. “They must hunt and kill in order to live. How could they be cursed for doing something that is in their nature?”

  Finriel looked between the fairy and Krete with a scowl and then turned her face up toward Lorian. For a split second her face was soft and questioning, and Lorian’s shoulders relaxed. As if remembering that she hated him, her expression quickly hardened and she looked away, Lorian’s spirits dropping once more.

  “This smells terrible,” Finriel grumbled, placing a finger over her chest. She began to wipe the poultice away and it shed off into a powder, giving her leather armor light green speckles. Lorian took in a breath of surprise at the sight of healthy olive skin showing through the torn leather, not a large bloody gash. A faint scar appeared on her skin, but only just.

  “Would you stop gawking at my breasts?” Finriel snapped.

  Lorian blinked. He quickly masked his surprise with a lopsided grin and a wink. “Oh, you wish I was gawking at your breasts.”

  Finriel huffed and rolled her eyes, then proceeded to press her hand against the ripped fabric of her armor. She closed her eyes and slowly exhaled. A strange pulling and scratching sounded from under her hand, and the torn leather plating slowly began to stitch itself back together. Finriel took her hand away moments later with a tired gasp and leaned her head back. Her armor was completely intact once more, looking new as ever. Finriel glanced between the fairy and Krete, to find them both staring at her in shock at what she had just done.

  “You have quite a gift with magic,” Krete said. “I’ve only known a few very old witches with those sorts of powers.”

  “Stop petting my mogwa,” Finriel snapped in reply, and braced her hands on the ground before struggling to her feet.

  Lorian jumped toward her and offered a hand as she swayed, but her glare made him lower his hand without a word. Krete lowered his hand from Nora’s ear, who in turn meowed loudly and shot Finriel a dejected look.

  “What do you want with us?” Finriel asked the fairy none too warmly.

  The fairy and Krete exchanged the same strange look once more before the fairy sighed and rolled her eyes.

  “We’ve been sent on a mission by Sorren, King of Proveria, and we are here because we are meant to steal the pages you possess and wipe your memories.”

  Tedric and Finriel bristled at her words, Tedric’s hand drifting casually toward the hilt of his sword.

  “Sounds just like something that your king would order,” Tedric spat, and the girl stiffened.

  “How do you know of the pages?” Lorian asked, trying to keep his voice as neutral as possible. He gave both Finriel and Tedric a warning look to hold back, and they choked back the insults no doubt ready to fly out of their open mouths.

  “The first attack occurred in Proveria. Besides, the whole realm likely knows of the drawings and pages by now, the grand council held a meeting about it four days ago,” Krete replied with a shrug.

  “Which is why we must take the pages that you possess and be on our way to recover the beasts,” the fairy girl continued.

  “Why, so that the fairies can take all of the glory of saving the realm for themselves? I don’t think that’s very fair.” Lorian shook his head.

  “That is not the reason we were sent,” Krete said quickly, and Lorian raised his brows.

  “Please do explain.”

  “We don’t have time for this,” Tedric interrupted, and set his angry glare on the fairy. “I have met enough of your kind to know who you are. Your king is selfish and has constantly attempted to undermine the Red King.”

  The fairy girl clenched her fists. “It might surprise you to know that I do not find my king to be a good ruler, but duty comes first, even if he is a tyrant.”

  Tedric opened his mouth and closed it
again, apparently as surprised as Lorian about what the girl had said.

  “We were going to offer that you come with us. If we join together, the mission could be completed quicker,” Krete said, breaking the silence.

  Lorian exchanged glances with Finriel and Tedric and lifted a hand to stop them from speaking again. “You would come with us to recover all three beasts?”

  The girl raised her left arm and patted the outside of a pocket in her long black cloak. “All five beasts.”

  “What do you mean?” Finriel challenged, and the fairy girl smiled.

  Krete replied, “A villager who survived the dragon attack came to King Sorren with two pages he found in the storyteller’s room. The man was half mad but he was very clear that the pages had been used to create the beasts. I passed him upon my arrival at the castle, which aided in my decision to help with the retrieval of these beasts.”

  “It seems that a common villager did a better job of learning about the storyteller’s actions than your precious Red King,” the fairy girl jeered, and even Lorian tensed as he glanced at the cloaked girl.

  Tedric bristled at this and wrapped his hand around the hilt of his longsword.

  “I wouldn’t be so quick to draw your weapon, soldier,” the fairy chided with a confident smile. “Don’t you want to at least listen to what we have to offer before you decide to run from us?”

  “What exactly do you have to offer?” Finriel hissed, and bent down to retrieve a blood-encrusted dagger from the ground.

  Lorian recognized it as Finriel’s dagger and raised his brows in surprise. He knew that she could take care of herself, but he wasn’t aware that the shapeshifter’s dried black blood upon the ground had been her doing.

  “We want to offer a traveling pact,” Krete said simply, his eyes wide and trained on her dagger.

  “A traveling pact?” Tedric echoed suspiciously.

  Krete nodded. “We travel together and aid one another in the recovery of the beasts, or drawings, well, whatever they may be. Once they are all safely in our respective possessions, we take our two pages back to King Sorren, and you take yours back to the Red King. We can simply pretend that we never met each other.”

  The offer made no sense. Lorian exchanged glances with his companions, each wearing the same blank expression that he was sure was on his own face.

  “Didn’t you say that you wanted to wipe our memories merely a few minutes ago?” Lorian asked with raised brows, wrapping his cloak tighter around himself with a shiver as a cold breeze filtered through the air.

  “And how did you know of our mission in the first place?” Finriel asked venomously.

  Lorian ached to walk to her and place a reassuring hand on her shoulder to help the anger ease, but he knew he couldn’t.

  “King Sorren and the Red King had a meeting about the pages right after the first attack. He learned that the Red King was planning to send out a few brave souls to find the beasts from the pages that had been discarded at Keadora’s border. King Sorren sent out spies, waiting for the arrival of you three. We were promptly sent to dispatch of you and continue the mission ourselves as soon as you entered the kingdom.”

  “So then why haven’t you dispatched of us?” Tedric snarled, the words sliding from his tongue in a venomous warning.

  “We believe that the safety of Raymara and maintaining the thousand-year peace is more important than the pride of any king,” the fairy girl answered. “Besides, if we did what we were told, it would surely create more tension between the fairies and witches than there already is.”

  Lorian turned to find that the dappled light of the sun was setting to the east, bathing the forest in a soft orange glow. The birdsong had faded and the activities of the small animals and other creatures had also ceased. They needed to continue. They were wasting time engaging in idle chit-chat.

  “How can we know for sure if you are telling the truth or if you just want to take our mission as your own so that you can get all of the glory?” Tedric shot with a new severity in the tone of his voice.

  The fairy scoffed and tossed her long violet hair behind her shoulder. Her green eyes returned Tedric’s glare, and Lorian could almost see the tense energy between them as they stared each other down.

  “Of course you would only think of bringing glory to your kingdom, soldier,” she retorted, smiling sourly as Tedric’s brow furrowed.

  “I’m not a soldier, I’m a—”

  “Yes, the Commander of the Ten and one of the Red King’s best warriors, I know.”

  “But how—”

  “Oh please, a mealworm would be able to sense the insufferable amount of arrogance and self-entitlement radiating off you. There’s no doubt that you are a member of the Ten,” the girl interrupted once more, her grin widening as Tedric’s scowl deepened.

  “Aeden, we need to find shelter soon,” Krete said in a hushed tone.

  “Aeden, is it?” Tedric interjected, taking a step forward. “Not a very common name, yet it sounds oddly familiar.”

  A harsh bark of laughter escaped from Aeden’s mouth and her smile turned into a steely gaze. “Please, don’t flatter yourself,” she retorted, a slight pink flush growing on her cheeks. “I am nothing, and I come from nothing.”

  “I am Krete of Creonid Mountain, if anyone cares,” Krete offered.

  “No, not particularly, but thank you for the introduction,” Finriel retorted coolly.

  “We don’t have time for introductions,” Lorian interjected, breaking off Tedric before he could speak. “Krete is right. It’s getting dark and we need to find a place to camp for the night.”

  “Thank you.” Krete smiled and gave Lorian a nod.

  Aeden glared narrowly at Lorian, who shrugged in return. “Are you saying that you’re agreeing to let us accompany you on your mission?” she asked dubiously.

  “Absolutely not,” Finriel interjected, and at that moment, Lorian had two fiery women glaring at him.

  He turned to Tedric for assistance, but the commander was staring at Aeden, his hands clenching and unclenching. It seemed that Lorian had to fend for himself this time.

  “I say that more company is better than the amount we currently have. Besides, I’ll have more people to talk to than a paranoid soldier and a witch who would rather see me burn in a fiery abyss than be part of this mission with her.”

  Tedric turned to Lorian in surprise, and Finriel opened her mouth to say something that surely would’ve sent Lorian to the Nether, but was cut off short.

  “So, it’s decided then,” Krete said in a bright voice, clapping his hands together and rubbing them as if about to eat a scrumptious meal.

  Finriel gave Lorian one last sharp look before sighing and throwing her hands up in defeat. The company of three had expanded to five.

  6

  Tedric

  Discomfort coursed through every fiber of Tedric’s body, and he took in a deep breath in attempts to calm himself. The presence of the fairy girl, Aeden, as she had called herself, was agonizing against his right shoulder as they walked side by side through the darkening forest. She was taller and thinner boned than Finriel, though that was likely due to her ethereal blood. All fairies he’d encountered were thin boned.

  They walked in a tense silence, and Tedric could not say that he was pleased by the sudden change of events that as good as ruined his entire image of how the mission would unfold. He glanced at Lorian and the gnome, who walked at his other side, and feigned a growl of annoyance at Lorian’s jovial smile. Finriel led the group with a stiff back, Nora slinking by her master’s side. She had returned to her angry silence when they began their trek through the forest once more, though Tedric still had questions about her fight with the shapeshifter.

  “How did such a small man like you come into the company of fairies?” Lorian tilted his head toward the gnome, breaking up the strangulating silence.

  Krete jumped in surprise and smiled at the thief, completely nonplussed by the subtle insult
Lorian had thrown at him.

  “I am a messenger of the royal household of Creonid, you see,” he began. “I had just arrived in Proveria to transmit a message about a black dragon causing terrible fires and annoyance across Drolatis and the border of Creonid.”

  “Haven’t black dragons been extinct since the war?” Lorian asked.

  Krete nodded. “Yes, which is why you would understand that this caused some confusion and disturbance across the twin kingdoms.”

  “Yes, I would say that was a logical reaction,” Lorian agreed, and Tedric glowered at the thief’s good mood.

  Krete shrugged and continued, “When I arrived in Proveria, King Sorren informed me that the dragon was not real, but a storyteller’s creation, so I insisted on helping to recover it.”

  “And why exactly is that?” Lorian asked with a tone of mild interest.

  Krete broke from Lorian’s gaze and began to wring his hands with either concern or nerves, Tedric didn’t know.

  “Well, to start, the dragon’s presence in Drolatis has caused a great many fires to spread over the dragon kingdom border and into Creonid. I felt like if I had the opportunity to end the threat to our kingdom, then I would do everything in my power to do so. And besides, I have known Aeden since she was just a young girl and felt that it was my duty to aid and protect her on her mission.”

  “That’s a very kind thing for you to do.” Lorian smiled. “I don’t think that I would want to risk my neck if it weren’t for a large sum of gold in my pockets and the bounty on my head being released.”

  “Perhaps the Red King should have left you in the dungeons,” Tedric grumbled, and Lorian glanced at him curiously.

  “Has someone pissed in your ale or were you just in an abnormally good mood before?”

  Anger roiled in Tedric’s stomach. Never in his many years of serving his king had he been insulted so profusely by one man, let alone in such a short period of time.