Of Liars and Thieves

by Gabriela Lavarello

  “You don’t need to apologize to me,” Finriel grumbled back.

  “You’re wrong,” he countered, and Finriel looked up at him again in surprise.

  “I’ve been a complete fool and I still blame myself every second of every day for leaving you there.”

  “Lorian, we were children—”

  Lorian shook his head as Finriel spoke and cut her off, his expression desperate. “It doesn’t matter. I see how much you hate me every time you look at me. I broke your trust because I was too much of a coward to face the boy myself.”

  Finriel’s heart clenched and she wiped her sweating hands upon her dirt-encrusted pants. “I don’t hate you,” she whispered. “I thought I did for a long time. I wanted to kill you the second I saw you again at the Crimson Castle. But I realize that maybe I need to try to push through that anger and pain. I’m not getting past anything by hating you.”

  Lorian’s face opened and the touch of a smile played at his lips. “Does this mean that you forgive me?” he asked tentatively, straightening.

  “No.”

  His face fell slightly. Finriel looked into his eyes and picked at a small fray on her cloak as she chose her next words carefully.

  “I don’t forgive you. I can’t forgive you that easily. I still have memories of what happened, and I can’t even touch cold water without getting a flashback or feeling like I am going to be sick, and in some corner of my mind I still blame you for all of it.”

  Lorian looked down at his hands. Silvery white scars lined against his fingers and palms, and Finriel found herself wanting to know how he had gotten each one of them.

  “But,” Finriel continued, “I can at least begin to try to forgive you.”

  He looked up and didn’t hold back his smile this time. Finriel’s entire chest constricted as his face lit up at her words. She had not expected that he was going to grow into such a beautiful man when they were children, but she supposed she had never thought about those sorts of things back then. She let herself linger on the curve of his lips before forcing her gaze back up to meet his bright eyes. Maybe she had been blushing, Nether damn her.

  “That’s all I needed to hear,” Lorian said with a grin, and Finriel let the corner of her mouth quirk up in a half-smile. He held Finriel’s gaze, and the world faded away from her slightly as she looked into his eyes. They had been her favorite part of him when she was younger, but now it was only one of the many parts of him she found alluring.

  Stop it. He’s still a terrible person if you haven’t forgotten, she reprimanded herself.

  The feeling of soft fur and the tickle of whiskers against Finriel’s cheek made her jump and bring up her hand instinctively to stroke Nora’s back as the mogwa sat next to her. Finriel’s heart pounded heavily in her chest and pulsed in her ears. It felt so loud that she was sure Nora would be able to hear it, maybe even the whole forest.

  “We spotted five elven scouts about two miles from here.” Aeden’s voice sounded from behind them. Finriel rose to her feet and turned to find Tedric, Aeden, and Krete approaching.

  “Are they coming toward us?” Finriel asked.

  “It’s hard to tell.” Tedric shook his head. “But they did appear to be on alert about something.”

  “Well, we weren’t very quiet trying to put the rakshasa back into the page,” Lorian snorted as he began to struggle to his feet.

  “Don’t,” Finriel said, throwing her hand out. “Aeden, do you think you can put an enchantment on him to help with the pain of his bruises?” she asked, and Aeden nodded, moving toward Lorian.

  The enchantment was quick work, and Aeden stepped back from the thief once it was over.

  He sighed in relief and rubbed his sides. “Thank the goddesses for that. Aeden, I could kiss you for what you just did.”

  Aeden grimaced and shook her head, and Finriel swore that she saw Tedric place a hand upon the hilt of his sword in response.

  Lorian smiled easily and got to his feet. “Some other time,” he said with a wink, and Aeden shook her head again.

  “All that matters is that the rakshasa is back in the page and we are all in one piece,” Finriel said, steering them away from the uncomfortable conversation.

  She couldn’t deny the pang of bitterness that dropped into her chest at Lorian’s proclamation, even if it was a joke. Besides, you don’t care about him in that way, she scolded herself.

  “None of it makes sense though, the way that the creatures seem to be expecting us when we get to them,” Krete pondered.

  “I agree. The only reason that this quest has been dangerous at all has been because of our own stupidity,” Tedric said, giving Lorian a lopsided grin. Lorian rolled his eyes in return and hobbled over so that he was standing at Finriel’s side. She forced her breath to come out in an even rhythm and focus on the conversation, even if her hands still burned with the memory of his skin.

  “Things simply don’t feel right,” Krete replied. “The fire in the village, the beasts’ behaviors, all of it.”

  “There seems to be something else going on, something bigger than what we know,” Aeden agreed with an odd tension in her voice, though her expression remained impassive.

  “Like what?” Finriel asked, idly scrubbing her hands against her pants.

  Lorian glanced sidelong at her strange behavior before shrugging. “There isn’t much we can do besides collect the other two beasts. We have no means of finding out if there’s something more to this quest than what we already know.”

  “There is a way,” Krete interjected. Finriel narrowed her eyes at him curiously, and he returned her glance with a kind smile and a shrug. “If we find the storyteller and ask him what he knows, we might gain some deeper understanding. I can try to contact the gnomes and find out if they have any knowledge of his whereabouts.”

  “Is this secretly a ploy to go back to Creonid?” Aeden asked cynically, and Krete shrugged again.

  “We could use the rest, and besides, we need to find the storyteller.”

  “That’s true.” Aeden nodded in agreement. “But for now, we need to think more about getting out of this kingdom and away from the scouts.”

  17

  Madness

  It was cold, so very cold. Pain lanced through his fingers, through his feet, all the way to his bones. Snow and wind lashed across his face, and he slipped with every other step he took. Hunger roiled inside his too thin body. It would be worth it, however. Only a few more days and he would be there. And he would be warm. They would welcome him. They were peaceful creatures, after all. They would not say no to a lonesome traveler who looked one breath away from crossing to the Nether. He had to admit that dying and going to the Nether sounded much better than this. At least then he could be welcomed by Nex instead of where he was headed to now.

  A laugh bubbled out of his throat, sending a puff of frozen breath from his mouth. It would be worth it, all of it. The plan had been set into motion, and it was only a matter of time. Yes, it was approaching swiftly. The dead one had been kind to him, and he knew that she would show the path. Blood was coming, and it was coming soon. At least then he would get what he wanted.

  18

  Lorian

  Many days passed in a slow blur of walking, avoiding the countless groups of elven scouts and skirting around towns and villages. Since overhearing the scouts’ opinions about their quest on their first day in Farrador, Lorian had suggested that it would be best to avoid making contact with any citizens of the kingdom. To his surprise, Finriel had agreed immediately and it took only a short while to convince the others. They stopped only for short rests of food and water, making camp amongst closely spaced trees in order to stay hidden from the elven scouts. They lit no fires for fear of being caught, which caused many damp and cold nights upon the hard earth.

  Finriel had ordered that Nora stay close to them during their trek through the elf kingdom, and the mogwa walked at her master’s side, her amber eyes hardened with frustration. The
y couldn’t risk any more unexpected run-ins with anyone, let alone the elves. It was known by everyone that they would most likely be brought before the elven queen and sentenced to the Nether before they could even open their mouths to explain.

  “We’re almost at the edge of the forest.” Aeden was the first one to break the silence in hours, causing Lorian to jump.

  He was walking at Finriel’s side, their shoulders bumping against each other occasionally, and he’d found her drawing closer to him since the rakshasa incident. They still never spoke of their childhood, however, and Lorian found himself growing more hesitant to talk about what had happened for fear of their fragile truce falling apart. He couldn’t help but remember the way that her tan cheeks had flushed when she touched him. It was likely silly to think that she was beginning to fully trust him again, but a fool could dream. He’d been careful and kind, and they spent most of their time in a comfortable silence, both trying to catch a word or two of Aeden and Tedric’s hushed conversations.

  Lorian was growing suspicious of the energy around the warrior and the fairy, a sense of unease washing over him about their connection. There was something strange and otherworldly about the spark between them whenever they were near each other. He had tried to speak to Krete about the matter, but the gnome had grown quiet and grumpy since their night on the tree, resigning himself to walk at the back of the group alongside Nora.

  “We must be careful about which direction we take when we exit the forest,” Tedric said. “We don’t want to end up—”

  “You do not need to think about in which direction you are going to exit this kingdom,” a rough and unfamiliar voice interjected.

  Lorian tensed, and the companions stopped in unison.

  “Who’s speaking?” Tedric demanded, drawing his sword in a fluid motion.

  The raspy voice chuckled, and a hooded figure emerged from thin air. A white fur-lined cloak covered the man’s face, but he did not need to show his identity for the company to know what he was. Lorian’s blood froze in his veins at the sight of the traveler standing before them.

  Travelers were the beings native to Naebatis, the coldest kingdom within Raymara. Lorian gulped and glanced around the surrounding bushes in search of his protector, the magical beings travelers could conjure whenever needed. He’d heard legends of travelers and the wrath they and their protectors caused during the War of Seven Kingdoms, and had prayed to never meet one as long as he lived. His singular meeting with a traveler on the outskirts of Naebatis when he was sixteen was proof enough that his prayers had never been answered.

  The man lifted the white hood of his robe to show a surprisingly young face for such a voice. His features were plain, his grey eyes too high upon his face and his nose too large. Thin lips were peeled back to show a yellow-toothed grin as he looked upon the six of them.

  “Traveler, you have no business in these woods,” Tedric growled as he raised his sword slightly higher in defense.

  The traveler’s steely gaze slid to Tedric, and he examined the commander contemplatively.

  “You are right, but none of you have any business in this forest either, especially not a human from Keadora. You could be sentenced to Queen Arbane’s dungeons if anyone saw you.”

  “Why are you here and what do you want from us?” Aeden demanded, and she too stepped forward.

  The traveler’s eyes raked the fairy up and down, and his grin widened evilly. Tedric stepped forward, his expression one that promised bloodshed. The traveler turned his gaze to Tedric, and an understanding seemed to flash across his eyes.

  “Ah, I see.” He chuckled. “You two will have a very hard time figuring that one out.”

  “Answer the question,” Finriel snapped.

  Lorian angled his head to watch as she drew her dagger in one swift motion. Nora’s grey fur rose and she bared her teeth at the stranger.

  “Oh, I cannot tell you, the matter is of complete confidentiality.” The traveler sighed. “Though it has to do with some little birds that informed me of a potential threat to the elves.”

  Lorian’s stomach gave a flop, and his mind went straight of the flock of fisherbirds they had seen on their first day in Farrador. He glanced at his companions to see if they had noticed the traveler’s words, but they seemed too on guard to realize what he had truly said.

  “You do not have to pledge allegiance to the elves,” Lorian replied, his tone sounding much calmer than he truly felt.

  “Oh, but we do,” the traveler replied with a cool smile. “Though I was still not very excited to have to meet with the stuffy elf queen, so I must admit that meeting you all has brightened my day dramatically.”

  “You will fail miserably if you try to even touch a single one of us,” Aeden snarled.

  Lorian groaned with growing fear. “You shouldn’t have said that,” he whispered to the fairy, who ignored him completely.

  “I am aware of that,” the traveler agreed. “That is why I am not going to touch you, my protector will do the dirty work. And he is not only going to touch you, but he is going to rip each one of you into ribbons. After his work is done, he will dissipate and I will remain free from the curse.” The traveler then began to shimmer away, becoming more and more translucent by the second. “Have a wonderful time dying. Send my regards to Nex when you reach the Nether. She was the one who created my kind, after all.” The raspy voice was the last thing that was left of the traveler, and then he was gone.

  Krete exhaled with relief and wiped a hand over his brow. “Thank the goddesses that is over.”

  Tedric shook his head and began to walk forward slowly with his sword still raised, and Finriel conjured large tendrils of flame to envelop her free hand.

  “It is not over yet, I am afraid,” Lorian whispered.

  The beast appeared out of nowhere and crashed toward them with a roar. Lorian’s mouth went dry as he watched the minotaur approaching at a surprising speed. The bull’s head was covered in wiry black hair, two yellowing horns protruding from the sides of its forehead and curving inwards like a twisted halo. A large axe was held in the beast’s human hands as it roared and raised the weapon above its head.

  “Run, I’ll hold him back!” Tedric yelled, and without a second glance, the companions shot in the opposite direction to the wild beast, which bounded through the bushes behind them with another ear-splitting roar.

  “Now would be a great time to use that portal stone of yours!” Lorian yelled to Krete, who was attempting to keep his pace ahead of Finriel.

  Branches sliced across Lorian’s face and cut into his arms as they ran headlong into an unexpected thicket of brambles. He kept his eyes fixed on the ground as he wildly fought forward. The thicket thinned out soon enough and they were within the branches of shorter trees with dark bark and sun-kissed leaves.

  “I’m working on it,” Krete panted, and Lorian barely caught the movement of the gnome withdrawing a small blue stone from his vest pocket.

  “Stop!” Aeden shrieked, shooting out her hand to hit against Lorian’s chest. He stumbled back a few steps. He raised his brows at her, surprised at how quickly she had reached him. But she didn’t turn to meet his gaze, instead, her eyes were trained on something before them. Lorian took another step back and looked down, his eyes widening at what she had just saved him from stepping upon.

  Sand.

  Dark grey sand.

  Lorian exhaled and looked out toward the large expanses of red and grey sand that opened up before them. Krete and Finriel had stopped and lined up on Aeden’s other side, gasping as their eyes met the shimmering wall of the new kingdom before them. They all squinted as hot wind blew against their faces, sending small grains of sand pelting into their eyes even through the shimmering border.

  “Crubia,” Lorian breathed, curiosity still flickering through the terror that stiffened his bones.

  The death kingdom was the most feared kingdom of all. No one spoke of it, as the name itself brought tears of fright to e
ven the bravest man’s eyes. Anyone who stepped upon the dark sand would never step into another kingdom again. Instead, they were locked within the barren desert forever with no food or water to keep them alive, and in time, madness took over until that poor creature died the most terrible death.

  “It is said that before the curse was cast this kingdom was the nicest one of all,” Krete offered quietly.

  “It’s also said that there is a secret colony that lives underground, and that people who are banished here don’t actually die, they are simply found and brought below ground to live in the colony,” Finriel replied, looking out upon the colored sand dunes with cautious interest.

  “We don’t have time for history lessons, we need to get out of here!” Tedric shouted from the tree line. “We have a minotaur on our heels and I refuse to just stand here and be killed simply because you’re all trying to be smart asses!”

  “There is no way in the Nether that I am taking one step into this kingdom.” Finriel shook her head. “I would rather face the minotaur than risk being locked in a desert forever.”

  An earth shattering roar and the clash of weapons seemed to answer her, and Lorian looked around wildly. There needed to be some other way out, some place that they could go without retracing their steps back to where Tedric and the beast fought.

  “Krete, the portal,” Lorian said through gritted teeth, glancing over to the gnome.

  “I know, I’ve got it,” he replied enthusiastically. “Get Tedric. I am going to use the portal stone to get us out of here.”

  Aeden nodded without a word and spun on her heel, disappearing back into the brambles toward Tedric and the minotaur. Finriel looked down at Krete with a confused frown as he leaned forward and began to trace his fingers upon the grassy ground of the clearing. Lorian moved to where Aeden had once been standing so that he could get a better look at Krete’s work.