by L. P. Dover
Chevelle walked me to the edge of a tall peak. The rock mountain ended in a sheer cliff, straight down into haze. He looked into my eyes like he saw something there, like he really knew me, and we gazed out over the cliff, at the horizon … endless. I felt his hand on my back and closed my eyes, relaxing into the comfortable, familiar feel of it. And then he pushed with full force and I opened my eyes as I flew off the cliff, falling straight down. I stared back at him as he stood, watching me fall, nothing but open sky above and below. I couldn’t imagine why he’d throw me from the cliff, couldn’t think of the magic to stop myself, couldn’t see when I would crash into the base, the rocks below.
My arms flailed as I jerked awake. They were all staring at me.
“Frey?” Ruby asked.
I grappled for breath. “Just a dream.” They laughed.
“What about?” Ruby was more interested.
I glanced at Chevelle, a few paces away, the same concerned expression as they waited for my answer. I only shook my head, not able to confess it while my chest still ached from the panic.
I sat up, taking a drink from the flagon. Wine. Didn’t anyone drink water anymore?
When Grey sat beside me, I tried not to appear shocked.
“Ruby a little hard on you?” he teased. I smiled. “She’s only trying to help, you know.” He spoke with tenderness and I recalled their touch nights ago.
I made an effort not to be too obvious about my real curiosity. “You’ve known her long?”
“Forever.”
The way he was gazing at her when he spoke left no doubt.
She noticed us watching her. “Ready to get back to it, then?” she asked.
I groaned, struggling to my feet. “Ruby, how long do the effects of the dust last?”
“Depends.”
I couldn’t decide if I was truly that out of it or if everyone thought it was funny to make me drag answers from them. “On?"
She laughed. “Don’t worry. The dreams will get better.”
“They will get better or they will go away?”
She laughed again. “Depends.”
We were facing each other once more, ready to begin another round, when she asked, “Want to try a weapon?”
I was pretty sure I didn’t, given how much the weaponless training hurt. I procrastinated. “Why use arrows if you have magic?”
She had that ‘Frey, you’re an idiot’ look again. “Magic uses more energy the farther away you try to focus it. And it is less accurate. And you are more visible. And—”
I held up a hand. “All right, I have it.”
She smiled. “Any more questions or can we begin?”
“Fine. What sort of weapon did you have in mind?”
That was another question and her smile widened. Her hand stretched out to the side and a long, silver sword landed in her palm. She righted it, twisting the blade for me to see. Hot apple pie, this was going to hurt.
“There are a few things you need to remember when using a blade,” she instructed. “First of all, always go for the fatal attack. If you merely wound someone, well, someone with magic, they will use the last of their power to stop you. Cut off their head or puncture the lung and heart. Never mess around.”
I imagined myself decapitating someone. I laughed as I realized my mind placed Fannie there.
Ruby didn’t look like she could think of anything funny about what she’d said, but she continued. “Secondly,” she smiled, “don’t cut yourself. These things are sharp.”
She started to toss the sword to me, but then reconsidered and handed it over, making sure I had a good grip. There were intricate designs carved on the handle and runes etched in the blade. It wasn’t as heavy as it appeared. I moved it around a bit; it seemed to be weighted, balancing nicely in my hand. It was a pleasant feeling, and I swung it tip first in a figure eight, slashing at the air. I didn’t know if I could actually cut through someone’s neck, though. “Ruby, how do you intend to teach me with this? I mean, if there’s no messing around, just lop your head off and all?”
She laughed. “Don’t worry, Frey. I think I can handle you.”
“I’ll do it.” Chevelle’s voice startled me. I’d been absorbed in our conversation, unaware anyone was listening. I glanced around and realized everyone had been listening.
And then it dawned on me what Chevelle had said as they all circled around to watch. Ruby smiled at him, making me instantly suspicious she had set this up. A long sword was already in his hand. He approached and raised it, expertly gripping the handle with both hands. Uh oh.
Fear rushed through me and I wrapped my fists around the handle, praying I could protect myself. A smile was the only warning Chevelle gave me before his blade was cutting through the air. Instinct took over and I flung my arms up to block his swing with my own. The metal clashed, sending a shock of vibration through me even as the peal pulsed in my ears. I pulled the sword back just as he was striking again, and I twisted to block another shot. I straightened and raised it back, and it felt powerful to hold it, incredible to know what I was about to release. I smiled as I swung at him, sure he would stop me but still reveling in being the attacker instead of victim.
He twisted his blade around mine; a metallic screech filled my ears as he knocked my strike aside before he came back at me. We continued, blow after blow, the repetitive clank forming a pattern in my head. Chevelle seemed to be enjoying himself as the exercise increased in intensity. I found I was as well, I’d taken no direct beatings like my other training and I wasn’t getting as tired. No magic. I could see why they used weapons.
Chevelle pushed harder, assaulting me with faster and stronger swings. I was able to defend myself if I focused. Murmurs of approval floated in from our audience. I enjoyed that. I concentrated hard and began throwing a few hits of my own in with the blocks. Our swords clashed repeatedly, neither of us hitting the mark. I was certain he could have, but confident I was blocking well.
We continued until I became winded, then Chevelle lowered his blade, smiling with approval. I heard our audience commenting on the show and glanced around to see it was evening already, the sun was setting. How long had we sparred? I could feel the ache in my arms now. The sword hung limp at my side.
Ruby took it from my hand. “We’ll get you fitted with a sheath.”
I stood there, facing Chevelle, breathless but grinning. He was smiling appreciatively back at me, but when I realized we were still being watched, I sheepishly turned from him to join the group as they prepared a fire for dinner. The evening was filled with stories and laughter. Chevelle's eyes fell on me often; he seemed in better spirits in general, which made me wonder again about his morning guest.
Rhys and Rider approached and most of the group went over to meet them. Steed moved to sit beside me. “Very nice today, Frey,” he observed. I smiled. “You seem to be a natural.” I snorted.
Across the fire, Grey leaned over to speak in Ruby’s ear, and Steed noticed me scrutinizing them. “Are they … together?” I asked. I was confident in Grey's affection, but they didn’t act like a traditional pair.
He sighed quietly as we watched them. “No.”
There seemed to be more to his answer. “But, he …” I wasn’t sure how to phrase it.
“Yes.” Steed glanced back at me. “But you can’t always have the one you want, Frey.” His voice was soft, yearning.
I could never tell if he was teasing.
“I heard once you could die from grief,” I said.
He smiled at my subject change. “It’s true. I’ve seen it myself.”
“Tell me about it.”
“No, too sad.” He was thoughtful for a moment. “I worried … about my father.” His eyes returned to me as he confessed. “After my mother died. Sometimes I’m grateful for the fire witch’s seduction. He was grieving so hard …” His face relaxed out of its usual cocky smile as he brought back the memory. “Her enchantments numbed him. Then, when he woke from them, the
tragedy gave him purpose.” He smiled a little as he looked away. “The irony is her tragedy gave root to the idea—”
“Frey.” Chevelle was suddenly standing between us. I gaped up at him, the trance of Steed’s words broken.
“Huh?”
“Time to go.” There was anger in his voice. I didn’t know what I had done, but I stood obediently and he pulled me away from Steed, who had replaced his miserable expression to smile gingerly for me.
“I’ll take her,” Ruby offered.
“No. I’ll do it myself.” A lot of anger.
“We’ll both go,” she pushed, forcing a polite tone. The rest of the group was quiet, watching us, and Ruby eyed Steed as we turned and headed toward the house.
As soon as we were out of earshot, though I was still being dragged by the arm, I asked Chevelle, “Did something happen with the twins?”
Ruby laughed. We both stared at her. “Twins,” she scoffed.
“Right, well, you know what I mean,” I said, embarrassed.
Chevelle’s tone softened. “No. Everything is fine.”
Ruby chimed in, “It is fine,” and I knew it was intended for him. He relaxed his grip on my arm and slowed our pace as he directed an almost imperceptible nod at Ruby. I relaxed, too; fine being better than anything I’d thought in a long while.
Chevelle stayed in the front room that night, watching through the small windows. When I closed my eyes, I could see the glint of swords, making patterns as they crossed. Ruby hummed a sad tune, the sound drifting through the walls between us as I fell into a peaceful sleep.
Chevelle and Ruby’s voices, low and confrontational, woke me. I rubbed my tired arms as I rose to join them in the front room.
“What’s going on?” I asked, though I could tell by their exchange they’d been arguing.
Ruby smiled at me. “Just planning … for the trip.”
“Trip?”
“Yes, you know, to the peak.” She was scheming.
“Oh.” I’d decided I’d let them work it out, heading instead for Ruby’s room. “I’m going to take a bath.”
As I closed the door, Ruby said, “It’s time to tell her.” I didn’t hear a response. I was soaking in hot water, my eyes closed, not even considering getting out, when she knocked on the door.
“What, Ruby?”
She giggled. “How did you know it was me?” No one else is that annoying. “Can I come in?”
“No.”
The water streamed from the tub and out the back window and I groaned. “Fine, I’m getting dressed.” I dried, putting on clothes from a pile I assumed was for me since they looked too large for Ruby’s petite frame.
When I opened the door, I knew right away I would regret whatever they were about to tell me. Ruby commanded me to sit.
Chevelle straightened, clearing his throat. “Frey, we need to talk with you about something.” Great. I waited, and he proceeded carefully, “You know you are bound.”
“Yes,” I agreed, even though I wasn’t clear how I was partially bound. I could use some magic, I had lost some memories. No, that wasn’t true, was it? I couldn’t really remember anything from before the village. Anything but the dreams.
“And I’m sure you want to be unbound?” Why was that a question?
“Of course.”
He nodded as if he were going down a checklist. “We know council has bound you. And we know they must be the one or ones to unbind you.” I was starting to realize the seriousness of this conversation. “They are, obviously … unwilling.” I took a deep breath, waiting. “I know some … about the binding. I’ve … studied it.”
When he stopped, I said, “All right,” because I didn’t know what he was getting at.
“The problem is … meddling with the bindings, meddling with your mind is … well, it’s dangerous.”
And there it was.
“Dangerous,” I repeated.
They let me consider that for a moment. They were being careful with me, didn't want to upset me. I tried to ease them. No big deal, just dangerous mind meddling. “So we go back to the village and …” And what?
They glanced at each other before looking back to me. “Not High Council, Freya. Grand Council.”
Oh, right. The ones that were trying to capture me. The ones that wanted to burn me. Their cautious demeanor made more sense now. I nodded, letting them know I understood. The council had sent trackers. The pair Chevelle had choked and released. And the other. The broken, limp corpse in the clearing by the ridge. We had killed him. And they were worried about my stupid binding? The circling cloaks from my dreams were back, filling my head. My thoughts were twisting, spinning out of control. They’d be hunting us all down now. They would kill us. That was why I needed training. To protect myself. Because they intended to kill me, not capture. They intended to kill us all. And without magic, bound as I was, I didn’t stand a chance.
My anxiety must have shown, and it apparently made Ruby uncomfortable. She shifted her jaw.
“No.” I held my hand up to stop her. “No more dust.” I stood. “Let’s just get back. Back to training.” They didn’t argue, though they were plainly concerned.
We went to the ridge with the others, but we didn’t train. Ruby and Chevelle were avoiding me, I was fairly certain. I waited through the morning, and finally—around midday—I gave up on them and relaxed back onto the ground, staring up at the sky. It was warm, the sun shining bright, and a bird flew high overhead. I watched it gliding, slowly.
As I shielded my eyes with a hand to better see, I noticed the ink on my wrist and smiled. I suddenly knew the soaring creature above was a hawk. I closed my eyes and relaxed my arm at my side, imagining what it would be like to fly. I breathed deep, conjuring the image it would see, looking down on us. The picture was sharp, even at the distance, but the colors weren’t as clear, and the outlying shapes not as defined. I laughed at myself for adding that detail to my daydream, imagining a bird seeing differently.
My vision sailed over us, past the ridge, south. I imagined seeing the twins, perched in two trees, watching. They wore bows on their backs. The dogs were mostly concealed, but on the ground, vigilant. One glanced up at me … at the bird. I saw someone approaching, robe and tassels blowing in the cool breeze. The second wolf looked forward; he saw it, too, and abruptly pointed, calling out.
As I realized the howl was in my ears, not in my imagination, I jolted upright. The field was in motion, rushing in response to the warning. In seconds, they were set again, the same protective positions they had taken the last time. The last time a tracker had found us.
It was all I could do to steady myself as he was brought forward, because he was the same one from my vision. I was in shock as he knelt, not under his own power, and was frozen there before us. How could I have seen him?
Chevelle mumbled something and my ears began to ring, distracting me from my bewilderment. It was only a few seconds before recognition came.
“Stop!” I hissed, my voice seething fury. All eyes turned to me, but I stared only at Chevelle. “Stop,” I repeated.
When he understood, my ears ceased ringing, my hearing cleared. I stepped forward, the rage still burning through me. Chevelle had been the cause of my hearing issues before, and he had to be the one holding the tracker there. He bound him from magic for questioning, he had studied it, said he knew something about it.
I was furious, so much so that I forgot my own situation. I approached the kneeling tracker, daring anyone to stop me. “Tell me what you know about binding.”
He didn’t answer, his jaw tight in resistance. The sword sat in my newly acquired sheath and I pulled it out, reveling in the ssshk sound of the steel as it passed. The tracker smirked, defiant. He wasn’t afraid of a sword. The other didn’t crack at broken bones, didn’t give even before death. I’d need something dreadful to convince him, a new tactic.
A tiny snake sunning on a nearby rock caught my eye and I smiled. I knew what had happened
, I’d felt it. And I could do it again.
I slipped the tip of the sword down to the tracker’s leg, just above where his knee met the ground, and sliced his trousers up to the thigh to reveal his leg. I drew the snake to us with magic and grabbed it with my left hand, the sword in my right. The prisoner watched me, almost smug.
It was a tiny snake, no thicker than my pinkie, but it would do. I slid the tip of the sword across the skin above his knee to make a small incision; his face did change then, to puzzlement, uncertainty. I smiled at him wordlessly in response. I left the sword tip there and placed the snake on the handle, letting it slide down the blade toward my mark. I closed my eyes to relax, settle into the snake as I had the bird.
My knees buckled as I released too much so I backed off, giving myself just enough to control it. As it entered the wound, I heard the tracker gasp. I let my smile stretch wickedly as I wormed my way up his leg, intent on getting the information I needed. They were getting closer. They had found us a third time now. They would kill us. I wanted to free my mind, free my bonds. They would not take me.
His screams broke as the serpent reached his thigh. I opened my eyes. The body of the snake made a defined lump, curving long and thin under the skin of his leg. His face was twisted in agony and fear. He cracked. Chevelle released his hand long enough to scribble a few words of a spell, not allowing him to speak or cast magic.
He slumped after his surrender, confident the worst was over. I reached the sword tip back to his leg and made another incision to release the snake.
I heard a low voice say, “Kill him.” I glanced down at the sword, still in my hand. The sword I was supposed to slice someone’s head off with. I didn’t know who the order had been intended for, but it wasn’t me. This man was going to die. I knew he didn’t have more than a moment before their magic broke him. They would take his life, because he was after us. After me. I didn’t hesitate, just pulled my arm up and swung hard, backhand. The blade cut clean and his head rolled backward, hitting the ground with a sickening thud.
