Of Liars and Thieves

by Gabriela Lavarello

  And with that, they were off again. Krete looked around the strange forest and found that his conversation and new understanding of Finriel had helped raise his mood, if ever so slightly.

  15

  Aeden

  “I can’t find the beast on the map,” Finriel grumbled at Aeden’s side.

  Aeden nodded, her distracted brain not quite registering that Finriel’s statement was not a very good one. Her mind was elsewhere, as it had been for the past few days. The forest had briefly opened into a large expanse of dried grass and rocky gorges in the early afternoon of that day, a sure sign that they were indeed getting farther north. Though now that they were back in a shroud of enormous gnarled trees and silence, Aeden found that her thoughts strayed back to the issue at hand.

  Tedric.

  Her heart stuttered at the thought of the commander, and she dared not glance behind her shoulder to where he walked with Lorian and Krete. Her hands felt clammy in an instant, and Aeden fought the urge to wipe them upon her pants. She didn’t know how it had happened, yet a small corner of her heart had opened to the man. Yes, he was selfish and she hadn’t even the slightest idea as to how he had become a successful commander, but she liked him all the same. And yes, she was sure that his good looks had helped in the matter of her feelings, but Lorian was not terrible on the eyes either and the thought of him in any other sense than a friend made Aeden feel sick.

  Aeden huffed, and the tense conversation around her was muffled by her roaring pulse. She could not disclose how she felt to Tedric, not ever. Her father would truly kill her, she knew that. Anger surged through her veins at the thought of her father, and a distant memory flashed before her eyes. The boy she had loved, falling dead before her feet, his blood coating her hands. Aeden hated her father, and she hated all the terrible things he had done. She prayed that the plan would work, and that by the end of this quest, she would finally get the revenge she deserved.

  A loud crack rang through the trees, making Aeden pause and scan their surroundings. She tensed and allowed for her senses to reach out toward what, or who, had caused the noise. To Aeden’s surprise, she heard only the footfalls of a human, not a beast, and then a girl appeared from behind a gnarled tree. She was beautiful, her dark bronze skin soft and smooth, her deep brown eyes wide with innocent surprise as she looked at the five companions. Her flushed pink gown draped around her in intricate folds, her right arm exposed and bearing flourishes of red inked designs.

  “Who are you?” Finriel demanded at once, eyeing the girl with the same look of mistrust Aeden was sure mirrored on her own face. The girl was clearly not an elf, but she did not seem to be a witch or fairy either. Perhaps she was a human. The girl licked her lips nervously and took a tentative step forward, her bare feet hardly making a sound on the soft earth.

  “I am Rey,” the girl began in a fluttery foreign lilt. “I was gathering herbs for my father, who is injured, but I appear to have gotten lost.”

  “What kind of creature are you?” Aeden asked.

  Cold mistrust seeped through Aeden’s bones, and her fingers twitched at her side. There was something not right about the girl, but she simply couldn’t place what exactly.

  Lorian sauntered forward with a lopsided grin and bowed low. The girl turned her attention toward the thief, allowing a shy smile as she examined his features. Aeden took a step back, not quite liking the tactic that the thief was using with the girl.

  “Ignore my friends,” Lorian said, his voice dripping with honey-coated seduction. “What they mean is, how can we help a lovely woman such as yourself?”

  Aeden glanced over to find Finriel bristling slightly, her hands clenched into tight fists. The memory of flame erupting from those hands not so long ago sent another cold chill through her bones. Finriel met her gaze and rolled her eyes, and Aeden bit her tongue as she brought her attention back toward the scene unfolding before them. The girl smiled sweetly and took a small step toward Lorian. At this movement, Aeden felt herself stiffen. She angled her head slightly toward Tedric, who had moved to stand at her side, his sword drawn and held casually in his hand.

  “Do not trust what she says,” Aeden whispered. Tedric met her gaze with a soft frown, his lips opening as he started to speak, but Aeden simply shook her head. She quickly turned back to the girl before the knot in her chest at the sight of his parted lips caused her heart to burst.

  “Why not? She’s just a girl,” Tedric whispered back, ignoring Aeden’s silent effort to keep him from speaking.

  She forced a deep breath through her lungs and shook her head again, narrowing her eyes toward the girl. “She’s not just a girl, I can feel it.”

  Finriel had now stepped forward to stand next to Lorian. “Where is your father now?” she asked. “I have magic. I could heal him much faster than any of the herbs that you don’t have.”

  The girl took a step back, her eyes widening in fear. “I swear, I’m only passing through.”

  “In which kingdom were you born?” Finriel asked, and took another step forward, her hand drifting to her dagger.

  “Farrador, of course,” the girl squeaked, and Finriel shook her head with a humorless smile.

  “I don’t believe you.”

  The girl’s expression of innocent confusion fell away and was swiftly replaced with an evil grin. She took a step toward Finriel and opened her arms wide, as if welcoming her in for an embrace.

  “You are smart, witch. I am glad that our paths have finally intertwined.”

  Finriel stood her ground and glared at Rey, who was now mere inches from her. Lorian frowned as he glanced between the two women and took a step toward the strange girl.

  “Rey—”

  “Lorian, don’t,” Finriel interrupted, but Lorian shook his head with a gaze of molten ice.

  “I won’t leave your side when it matters, not anymore,” he vowed, and Aeden glanced at the girl who watched them with fury in her eyes.

  Finriel opened and closed her mouth, clearly unsure how to respond. Lorian gave her a small smile and turned back to Rey, who transferred her glare onto him. Lorian stepped in front of Finriel and faced the girl, bringing the easy smile back to his lips and reaching out a hand.

  “You must be tired from searching for herbs for such a long while, why don’t you—”

  “Lorian, stop!” It happened all too quick, and Aeden’s call of warning was too late. The dark-skinned girl grabbed Lorian by his hand and yanked, sending the thief crashing against a nearby tree.

  “Do not touch me,” Rey hissed, and her beautiful features began melting away. Bronzed skin and soft black hair began to shed, dissipating into the air as the transformation took place.

  The creature that stood before them now was something out of Aeden’s darkest nightmares. What used to be the girl had now grown four feet into the air, towering even over Tedric’s head. The creature’s scaly skin was a deep maroon and large yellowing tusks protruded from the sides of her wide mouth. Her eyes were no longer deep brown, but now bright yellow with thin catlike pupils. Long pointed claws had replaced the girl’s fingers and her feet were now giant feline paws. The horrific creature cocked its head to the side and smiled, showing dirty teeth that pointed into razor sharp tips.

  “What is it, never seen a rakshasa before?”

  Aeden gaped as the rakshasa spoke, its voice still sugary sweet like the young woman that it had been only moments before. The creature laughed and sighed, shrugging in an unnaturally human way.

  “I knew it,” Aeden whispered, and Tedric stood frozen at her side.

  The demon suddenly turned toward Lorian, who was still lying at the base of the tree. The thief wheezed, lines of agony stretched across his features as he tried to take a breath.

  “You,” the rakshasa spat as she prowled to him. Lorian groaned and scrambled into a half-sitting position, though the movement seemed to cause him enough pain to utter a gasping curse and double over.

  “Open the map,” Aeden hisse
d the order to Finriel, but she wasn’t listening.

  Krete darted from behind a tree and reached into Finriel’s cloak pocket, retrieving the map. Finriel cursed and whirled toward Krete, but when she saw what was in his hand she simply growled and turned back toward the demon.

  “The storyteller has a truly sick mind,” Krete panted, unrolling the parchment and angling it toward Aeden and Tedric. They looked down at the map, and indeed, their location was supposedly right on the spot of the rakshasa. Aeden huffed and cursed under her breath.

  “Rakshasas aren’t described like this in legends,” Tedric mumbled. “They’re typically less … leathery.”

  “Well, it’s not a real rakshasa, is it?” Aeden snapped back. Krete and Tedric both tilted their heads in question, and Aeden clarified, “Do you really think that the three of us would be allowed to simply stand on the sidelines and watch this?” When the two of them looked at her blankly, she sighed. “Rakshasa demons, especially female ones, would have killed us all instantly. Besides, she was angry when Lorian tried to move in front of Finriel, and we’ve been discovering that each creature is partial to one of us.”

  “So, you’re saying that the storyteller created them specifically for us?” Tedric asked.

  Krete shook his head. “There is something far deeper to these beasts than we know. I have a feeling that neither King Sorren nor the Red King told us everything that we needed to know.”

  Aeden’s stomach dropped, and she snapped, “Don’t be rash, Krete. It’s clearly—”

  A sickening crack echoed through the forest, cutting Aeden short. She, Krete, and Tedric looked up and gaped at the sight before them.

  “Drop him,” Finriel ordered with clenched teeth, an orb of dark blue fire dancing across her fingers as she glared at the rakshasa.

  Aeden’s stomach dropped at the fire swirling around Finriel’s hand, but the witch seemed to pay no mind to the blatant battle magic she was using. Aeden had overheard her quiet conversation with Krete, but was still unsure if she would ever get used to the sight of fire sprouting from Finriel’s fingertips. Aeden shifted her gaze to the rakshasa to find that the terrifying creature was holding Lorian at eye level by an ankle, inspecting him with narrowed eyes.

  “You have hurt her,” the rakshasa snarled.

  Lorian frowned, his face quickly reddening from his upturned position. “I never even touched her.”

  “Not all injuries are physical, you fool.”

  Lorian fell silent and shut his mouth at the demon’s words, apparently understanding what she had meant.

  “I said, drop him,” Finriel demanded, her voice louder and angrier than before.

  The rakshasa glanced down at her with what seemed like concern, and then back at the thief, who was turning an even darker shade of red.

  “The page, Finriel,” Tedric called, his voice wavering in what sounded like an attempt to keep his tone soft.

  Aeden groaned as the rakshasa flicked her attention to the three of them, noticing their existence for the first time since her transformation.

  “That was incredibly stupid,” Aeden huffed.

  “You!” the rakshasa shrieked and took a step toward them. “You all must die.”

  “Finriel!” Aeden called, but the witch seemed to get the message and was scrambling to unroll the blank page.

  “Rey,” Finriel ordered the rakshasa to look at her. The creature’s feline eyes widened with fear as they landed on the page held in Finriel’s hand. “If you don’t let go of my friend, I will force you into this damn page.”

  “But the boy hurt you.”

  Finriel’s eyes darted to Lorian, who stared at her with urgent, bloodshot eyes. Her furious expression softened slightly, and she looked back up at the rakshasa. “I know, but it doesn’t change the fact that he is my friend, and I need you to let him go.”

  The rakshasa sighed and shrugged, then raised Lorian so that he was eye level with her grotesque face again. “If I ever find out that you have hurt her again, you will be killed.”

  “I will protect her with my life,” Lorian wheezed, and the rakshasa curled her mouth into a grin.

  “Good,” the rakshasa spat, and flung Lorian behind her carelessly. He grunted as his midsection collided with the tree once again, and he fell to the ground in a heap.

  “Thank you.” Finriel inclined her head. “Now I need you to get back into this page.”

  The rakshasa placed a clawed hand upon her hip and cocked her head. “And why is that? I am a lot more useful to you right here than I would ever be in there.”

  Aeden’s chest clenched at the scene unfolding before her. There was something not right about these creatures. They were too kind and too smart to simply have been created to cause trouble.

  “What do you need from me in order to return to the page?” Finriel asked, and Aeden could tell that the witch’s temper was beginning to fray.

  The rakshasa shrugged again and picked at a sharp talon. “Only your promise to let me out again.”

  Aeden watched Finriel mull the idea over, a bad feeling crawling over her skin as resolution set on the witch’s face.

  “Fine.”

  “Fine?” Aeden blurted, unable to help herself.

  Finriel shot her a look. “Do you want to get out of here or not?”

  Aeden opened her mouth to argue, but a hand made contact with her shoulder and she jumped at the electric shock, instantly knowing who it was.

  “Just let her do it,” Tedric murmured. “She must have thought of something.”

  With a demonic sigh, the rakshasa walked leisurely toward the page and shimmered away, as if walking through the door of her home.

  “Why did you promise to release her from the page?” Aeden demanded, the terrible sense of wrongness now clawing at her stomach.

  Finriel rolled her eyes and made her way toward Lorian, who was still clutching at his abdomen and gasping for air.

  “Promises can always be broken.”

  16

  Finriel

  Finriel tensed at Lorian’s low groan of pain as he clutched at his midsection. His ribs were clearly bruised, if not broken, by the sound of the muffled curses he flung into the air.

  Finriel looked down upon the parchment in her hand, a perfect illustration of the rakshasa now covering the once blank page. Finriel quickly rolled it up and shoved it back into her cloak. She turned to Krete, and found that he was already holding the rolled up map out to her.

  “Thank you,” she said curtly, and Krete gave her a smile, his grey eyes tired.

  “We should go look around the perimeter to make sure no elven scouts are coming in this direction,” Tedric suggested, and Finriel glanced toward her other companions

  “Good idea,” Aeden agreed. “We can try to find Nora in the meantime and make sure she hasn’t accidentally walked into the city.”

  “Force her to come back with you even if she refuses,” Finriel replied, and Aeden and Tedric turned away. Aeden waved a hand behind her shoulder to show that she had heard, and Krete jogged to catch up with them.

  Finriel moved back toward Lorian, who was now lying on his back with his hands clutched around his sides, his pained gaze focused on her.

  “You and Tedric need to stop playing the hero,” Finriel grumbled, moving to kneel at his side. “Aeden and I are perfectly capable of handling ourselves.”

  Lorian didn’t respond to her flippant comment, neither did he argue when she reached out and pulled his hands from his sides. Finriel cursed silently at her shaking fingers as she tentatively placed a hand over his shirt. You don’t really have to help him, she thought as she gently felt around his midsection. He had left her to die so many years ago, and yet Finriel still couldn’t leave him, no matter how tempting it may have been when they had first been reunited. It was different now. She didn’t know how quite yet, but Finriel felt herself wanting to know what had happened to make him unable to come back for her. She wanted to know if what he had said to her
all those weeks ago had been true.

  “I’m going to have to touch your skin in order to feel for any proper damage,” Finriel said, and Lorian nodded.

  She forced her breath to remain even as she tentatively lifted his tunic and slid a hand over his already bruised ribs. Lorian sucked in a breath as she traced his side, his soft skin warm to the touch. Finriel dared not look into his eyes as she brushed her fingers over the swollen skin and reached out with her magic to confirm her suspicions of a cracked rib.

  “You were an idiot protecting me like that,” Finriel said, though her soft tone was not quite convincing.

  Lorian simply watched as she continued to press gently against his ribs, likely in too much pain to give one of his insufferable responses. He had regained his health since the beginning of their journey, Finriel noticed, the skin under her fingers rippling with muscle instead of bone. She attempted to keep her hands steady, ignoring her racing heart. Part of her wanted to retract and move away from him, yet another part wanted to explore the planes of muscle on his stomach and chest. She growled and bit the inside of her cheek, snapping herself back to reality. Lorian looked at her with a raised brow, and she returned his stare with a glare.

  “You’re blushing,” Lorian stated, and Finriel narrowed her eyes.

  “I am not,” she snapped, and in the blink of an eye, willed the cracked bone to mend, making Lorian double over with a pained gasp.

  Finriel quickly retracted her hands from his sides, her fingers tingling from both her magic and his lingering warmth.

  “You could have given me a warning,” Lorian wheezed, slowly lying down again.

  “You should be happy that I helped you at all,” Finriel retorted, quickly looking down at the ground and sending a prayer to the goddesses that he would not say another word about her blushing. She had not been blushing.

  “I am sorry.” Lorian grimaced, forcing himself into a seated position. He groaned and leaned heavily against the tree, giving Finriel enough time to gather her spinning thoughts.