Of Liars and Thieves

by Gabriela Lavarello

  “Ah, there she is.” Krete’s voice echoed through the air.

  “Who comes to my bridge?” a soft, sad voice inquired.

  Lorian turned his head blindly toward the familiar voice and took a step forward. The scrape of a sword being drawn from its sheath made him stop in his tracks and direct his hearing toward who had drawn their weapon. It had been Tedric, of course.

  “Do not draw your weapons at my bridge or I shall not let you pass,” the sorrowful voice echoed through the mist.

  “Guardian, we only wish for safe passage across your bridge. We don’t wish any harm upon you,” Krete assured.

  “Put your sword away,” Lorian told Tedric in a low voice, and after a short pause, the slide and click of Tedric’s sword being sheathed made Lorian release a small sigh of relief.

  With a deafening pop, the mist sucked toward the darkness and began to swirl and fold in upon itself. Lorian blinked rapidly to watch in renewed amazement as the mist congregated at the beginning of the chasm. It began to swirl quickly, colors of brown and milky white flashing through the mist. And with another loud popping sound, the mist disappeared and a thin girl stood in its place, along with a rickety bridge that lay across the darkness below.

  The girl looked young, perhaps only just past the age of what would be considered a child. Flame-colored hair lay in curls around her unnaturally pale face and traveled down to brush her waist. Her brown eyes were downcast as she scanned them with a sorrowful curiosity. A plain white dress hung over her skeletal frame, the frayed hem brushing against the snow-flecked ground. She looked as though the smallest gust of wind would be strong enough to knock her over and even the softest blow would have the power to kill her. But Lorian knew that she was already dead.

  “I know of your passing.” Her voice quailed. “I have seen it in the stars.”

  “Oh, no, not one of these prophesies again,” Tedric grumbled as he removed his hand from his sword hilt.

  “I am not one of the Sythril you met whilst traveling through Millris Forest. When you are someone like me, you have the power to ask the stars many questions.”

  Tedric’s brow raised as he looked the girl up and down. Her gaze slid over him, and she nodded as if reading his thoughts.

  “You are right, young commander. I am dead. I have been dead for more centuries than I could even try to remember.”

  “Why have you not traveled to the Nether yet?” Finriel’s question to the Guardian was hushed.

  The Guardian shrugged and looked behind to gaze almost lovingly at the aged bridge. “I will not travel until this bridge either collapses or is destroyed,” she replied sadly. “I am tethered to it for all eternity. But the matters of myself are not important. I have seen that you five and the mogwa wish to travel across to the dragon kingdom, is this true?”

  “I am afraid it is.” Krete took a step toward the Guardian. “We’re on a mission of utter importance that must be fulfilled.”

  The Guardian smiled, her troubled eyes looking down upon Krete with a twinkle in them. “The rules of this bridge have been the same since I was first placed as Guardian of it. You may not cross unless you pass the test.”

  It was Finriel’s turn to step forward. “What kind of test?”

  “It is very simple.” The Guardian shrugged. “You must solve the riddle I give you before the time of one hour has been spent.”

  Lorian shoved down a rare surge of nerves and took a step toward the ghost. “Go on, then, what is it?”

  The ghost swept her sorrowful gaze toward him, and Lorian wasn’t sure if it was out of true emotion or perhaps the poor soul was just experiencing a very solemn and lonely afterlife.

  “I remember you,” she said, and Lorian smiled.

  “You look just as lovely as before,” he replied with a small bow, and the Guardian gave him a tired smile.

  “Thank you,” was all she said before she closed her eyes and took a breath, as if reciting the correct words in her head before speaking.

  “There are four siblings in this world, all born together. The first runs and never wearies. The second eats and is never full. The third drinks and is always thirsty. The fourth sings a song forever.”

  Lorian opened his mouth, but then promptly closed it. He knew the riddle would not be easy to solve, even for his quick mind. Finriel bit her bottom lip in concentration as she mulled the riddle over, and Krete squinted as if the answer were somewhere in the horizon and all he had to do was spot it.

  “Do we get any hints?” Lorian asked the Guardian hopefully.

  She chuckled softly and floated closer. Nora sniffed suspiciously at the Guardian’s translucent dress and took a step back.

  “If you need one, I will allow a single hint.”

  “We will be able to solve it, thank you,” Finriel replied with a narrowed look at the girl.

  Tedric rolled his eyes and nodded to Lorian in a silent agreement for the hint. The Guardian seemed to notice Tedric’s confirmation and spoke.

  “Very well. The answer is close to your heart.”

  “That wasn’t very helpful at all, but thank you for trying,” Lorian replied with a tinge of frustration.

  The Guardian inclined her head with a smile. “You may take the hint or choose to cast it away. I am far too dead to take offense.”

  “We are more likely solve this in time if we work together,” Krete offered.

  Everyone nodded and Lorian followed Krete and the others toward a large outcrop of layered brown stone. Finriel paused and turned back toward the Guardian, who was patiently floating near the opening of the bridge.

  “What will happen if we don’t solve the riddle in time?”

  “I will disappear, as will the bridge. You will not be able or allowed to cross into Drolatis and will most likely be stuck on that ledge until you die of starvation.”

  Lorian turned to Krete and winked. “Or you can just use that little portal stone of yours to get us out of here.”

  Krete shook his head. “The stone needs to recharge. It could take a few weeks to be able to perform the way it did for us today.”

  Lorian’s spirits sank, and he turned back toward the group. “Let’s solve this riddle.”

  Krete moved to sit on a rock next to Nora, still squinting slightly. “Okay, so there are the four siblings, and each have problems in their lives that will never be solved.”

  “But it is not the problems that need to be solved. We know what the problems are,” Tedric answered.

  “What were the problems again? I’ve got too many of my own and seem to have forgotten,” Lorian drawled, hoping that his quip would lighten the mood. It did not.

  Aeden closed her eyes and took in a breath. She recited the section of the riddle to near perfection. “The first runs and never wearies. The second eats and is never full. The third drinks and is always thirsty. The fourth sings a song forever.”

  “There has to be a logical answer, especially if the answer is something close to our hearts,” Tedric said, and Aeden nodded in agreement, her eyes fluttering open.

  “I don’t know how it can be close to any of our hearts,” Lorian grunted. “Their problems sound terrible.”

  “The same way that listening to your ridiculous comments is terrible for the rest of us,” Finriel snapped, and Lorian looked away, slightly stung by her sudden severity. He could never tell if she was truly beginning to forgive him or if she was simply putting on an act to make him feel better. He supposed the wound between them was too deep to heal so quickly.

  Krete lifted his hands. “We’ll waste too much time if we argue with each other.”

  Tedric nodded. “He’s right. We need to use each of our skills together instead of against one another.”

  Finriel opened her mouth to respond but Aeden threw her a look that made her snap it closed. The company fell silent and Lorian muddled over the riddle in his mind. Something about the wording stuck with him, as though the people being spoken of truly were connected to one a
nother. It was the only thing that made sense, but he wasn’t sure how to put it together.

  “Could it have something to do with the quest?” Tedric offered, his face set in a concentrated scowl.

  “That would be too obvious, and besides, we’re capturing beasts, not humans,” Finriel replied in frustration.

  Long minutes went by in silence, and Lorian found himself growing more impatient and pessimistic about their chances of ever solving the riddle. Finriel began gnawing at her bottom lip, which Lorian knew was never a good sign. She was likely getting frustrated like the rest of the companions by the dead end they faced.

  “How much time has gone by?” Tedric asked the Guardian, who stared out toward the Steel Mountains, the pass through Drolatis they were to take. Only if we can solve this damned riddle.

  The Guardian turned to face Tedric and glided toward the companions. “You have only half of your hour remaining.”

  Tedric thanked her and turned away, raking his fingers through his dust coated hair with a low curse. Lorian’s spirits had sunk dramatically, and he found himself growing frustrated. How had he gone from being careless and arguably heartless to this worried shadow of a man? He sighed and crossed his arms, looking up at his companions. Then it struck him. It was because of them. He had never needed to worry about anyone other than himself, and at times didn’t really care for his own safety during missions. But now he had others he had to take into consideration, and he realized that he truly did care about them.

  Lorian shook the thoughts away and glanced toward Tedric, who was huddled close to Aeden and speaking in a low voice. A sense of unease washed over him at the sight of them together, especially now that he had realized their underlying attraction for each other. He could only guess what the outcome would be, but he wasn’t certain if they realized how dangerous their dance of hearts truly was.

  “Aeden, can you tell me the riddle one more time?” Krete asked, a sudden light in his eyes.

  Aeden recited it, and Lorian grunted, tired of the serious silence that held thick in the air. “Well hell, I’m nearly always thinking about a nice pint.”

  “Shut it,” Finriel snapped. “We’ll never solve this riddle with your mindless chatter.” The witch was obviously still angry with him, but Lorian was quickly losing his sense of caring over the matter.

  “No, he has a point,” Krete said, standing, his eyes widening. “Aeden, what is the one thing about being in Proveria that you miss the most?”

  Aeden considered for a moment and then smiled softly. “My wings, though they never truly came in.”

  Lorian glanced at Aeden, her expression something of mingled sorrow and reminiscence. He had heard of fairies never truly growing wings, and that the occurrence of a fairy obtaining full wings was something of an anomaly.

  “Do you know how many fairies with true wings are left in the realm?” Lorian asked, but Krete waved a dismissive hand in Lorian’s face.

  “No time for that,” Krete said, and then turned and nodded at Tedric.

  “I’m sorry, but I don’t understand how reflecting on our past is going to help us solve a riddle,” Finriel interrupted the gnome before he had a chance to speak.

  Krete opened his mouth to speak when the Guardian’s voice echoed softly around them.

  “You have less than half of your time left. Use it wisely.”

  “We need to actually think and not—”

  “Finriel, let me finish,” Krete snapped angrily. Finriel closed her mouth with a scowl and the gnome turned to Tedric. “Now, Tedric, where are you from?”

  Tedric snorted and shrugged. “Well, from Keadora, of course, you know that.”

  Krete turned toward Finriel and gave her an apologetic smile. “What form of magic comes easiest to you? Healing, tracking—”

  “Fire,” Finriel cut in automatically, glancing warily at the Guardian, though the ghost appeared not to hear.

  Krete nodded with satisfaction gleaming in his eyes, seeming to have already known the answer.

  “I myself was born out of the Mountains of Creonid, therefore I feel most at home when I am surrounded by thick stone.” He then looked between the four of his companions expectantly. “Do you now see what I am getting at?” He was met by four equally blank stares. Everyone stiffened at the sad voice telling them that they had mere minutes remaining.

  “Come on, think!” Krete said urgently. “Aeden, what do you like the most about even having the ghost of wings?”

  Aeden stuttered, “I— the way it feels when I’m in the air.”

  “Using my magic feels liberating,” Finriel offered, and Lorian watched her face change from one of confusion to one of realization. “Of course, I am an idiot.”

  “You have until the minute runs out,” the Guardian called, her voice slightly urgent now.

  “We are the four siblings,” Finriel declared, and Lorian suddenly realized what she was saying.

  “But there are five of us,” Tedric countered.

  “Doesn’t matter. You and I are one sibling. We are from the same kingdom,” Finriel replied with a wave of her hand.

  “I see, and I suppose that we just tell her our names then?” Lorian asked.

  Finriel shook her head and motioned for them to all come with her as she ran to the Guardian. The ghost and bridge were already beginning to shimmer away.

  “Wait!” Finriel called.

  The Guardian paused her departure and solidified once more. “Have you solved the riddle?”

  Finriel nodded. “The answer is all of us— well, not really.” She cursed under her breath and tried again. “It’s the four elements. Water, fire, earth, and air.”

  As if her words were a spell, a sucking noise ricocheted through the chasm and the bridge popped back into reality. Finriel let out a breath and allowed a smile onto her face. The Guardian smiled back at the five of them, including Nora, who was eying her suspiciously.

  “You have solved the riddle. You may pass,” the ghost said, the sorrow returning to her voice. It seemed that perhaps she would be sad to be left alone again.

  Lorian took a step onto the old bridge, and everyone began to follow suit.

  “Wait a moment,” the Guardian called. The companions paused and looked back at the lonely woman. “You are doing more harm to yourselves by keeping your creatures in those pages.”

  “I appreciate your care for our safety,” Aeden replied. “Unfortunately, it’s hard to believe that we would be doing ourselves any good by letting them out.”

  Lorian silently agreed. He didn’t want to get tossed against a tree again.

  The Guardian shrugged and sighed. “It is as you choose, but you would be wise to keep your pages very close. The creator of these beings passed by only a few days ago.”

  Lorian’s pulse stuttered at the news. Krete clutched at his vest pocket instinctively, even though they had not yet found the creature that belonged to his page.

  “Do you know in what direction he was headed?” Tedric asked, a nerve flickering in his jaw.

  The Guardian nodded. “He is expecting to meet all of you and told me to tell you all that he will meet you at a home underground.”

  Krete and Aeden exchanged a look and then turned back to the Guardian.

  “Thank you very much, Guardian.” Krete bowed. “It was good to see you again.”

  “Stay on your guard,” the Guardian answered, “and be careful of who you trust.”

  20

  Tedric

  Tedric cursed as he slipped yet again.

  The rough gorges and steep mountain slopes they scaled were much different than the soft ground in Keadora, and Tedric found himself endlessly slipping on loose stones as they made their way through the Steel Mountains. Small creatures with inky black fur and six legs darted across their path, some pausing to watch the companions make their slow descent down the mountainside, others squeaking with alarm and scrambling between stones to get to safety as Nora stalked behind them hungrily.


  Tedric’s breath came out in short gasps with each step that he took, the cold, thin mountain air slicing through his lungs. Each breath felt like he was taking in ice, even though the air had been surprisingly mild during the day once they trekked far enough away from the Guardian’s bridge, where the sky had opened up into a clear baby blue. A constant breeze rustled through the rocky, tree-barren land, sending his hair flying across his face, much to his agitation.

  The ground under their feet was riddled with small holes and sharp stones, and the air was filled with whispering curses as Tedric’s companions stepped carefully across the mountain pass. Tedric’s feet slipped from underneath him again as he stepped on another loose stone, and he yelled out as he began to fall. Delicate yet strong hands grabbed him at the shoulder and waist with surprising speed, and Aeden chuckled as he took another unsteady step.

  “How many times will I have to save your ass from dying or otherwise making a complete fool of yourself?” Her eyes twinkled with laughter, and her hands hesitated on Tedric’s body as their eyes met.

  “I wouldn’t care for anyone else to save my ass.” Tedric grinned back and brought his hand up, brushing a strand of violet hair from her face. She froze, and Tedric gave her a wink before turning and continuing to walk, this time watching his steps more carefully than before.

  Tedric wouldn’t admit that his body felt like hot embers where her hands had caught him, or that the insides of his stomach felt as if he had swallowed a live fish that was trying its hardest to leap out of his mouth. He couldn’t admit it even if he wanted to.

  “Stop,” Finriel shouted through the shrieking wind that whipped around them. She had the map out and was looking down upon it with a concerned expression.

  “What is it?” Lorian asked as he came up behind her to peer over her shoulder.

  Tedric blinked in surprise as Finriel didn’t shrink away from the thief, but instead brought the map further up so that it was easier for him to see. Astonished, he noticed the hint of what could only be a blush on her cheeks as Lorian leaned in and brushed against her shoulder. Perhaps those two were faring better than Tedric had realized.