by Casey Odell
“It seems not all of your little friends have been dealt with,” he snarled down at her.
Claire shifted under his foot so she could glare up at him. His hand reached behind his back and half a moment later produced a dagger with black metal and sharp, jagged teeth. With no visible scabbard, she wondered where exactly he’d carried the thing, though he wasn’t the first elf she met that had a penchant for hiding blades on himself.
The elf scanned the forest, his body tensing, raising the dagger at the ready in front of him. Claire noted the dark spine still in his left hand. Slowly, carefully, she reached her right hand out next to his foot on the ground, then reached inside her for the magic. The necklace burst to life again, her arm tingled with power, building, and just when she clamped her hand around his ankle she felt the sharp sting of the second spine on her thigh. With a surge, she let her magic go, pushing everything she had into the elf. Blue sparks engulfed him, traveling up his leg to cover his body, stunning him in place. A moment later a dark flash rammed into the elf, tackling him to the ground.
As quick as she could, Claire sat up, her head reeling, grabbed the spine and pulled it out of her leg. The world grew dimmer around her and the nausea came back full force. Her breath quickened, growing shallow— whether from the poison or just fear, she wasn’t sure. She looked toward the commotion. Her magic attack had worn off and the elf fought with another dark clad figure. In the growing darkness, she saw a shock of white hair and relaxed ever so slightly. She may not have liked being in his debt, but having Farron around was proving to be quite handy.
The dark forms moved too quickly for her to follow as they sparred, not that she was usually able to keep up with him, poison or no poison.
A few minutes later Farron knelt in front of her, looking no worse for wear. That she could tell, anyway.
“Claire, are you alright?” he asked, barely winded.
She held the spine up between them. If she was never to wake up again, at least he should know what caused it. She swayed and he grabbed her shoulders to keep her upright. A smile crept to her lips. “Just like old times, huh?”
She had time to catch his scowling expression before the darkness swallowed her up completely. Apparently, he didn’t like to reminisce as much as she did.
It felt like she’d been floating in an abyss for years. The darkness around her was thick and absolute and seemed to stretch on forever. She didn’t dream, wasn’t even sure if she knew how to anymore. It was tranquil and terrifying at the same time.
Just when she thought she would never see light again, a bright pinprick floated above her. She moved towards it. The closer she got the bigger and brighter it became, until it was blinding and consumed her, swallowing her whole.
Claire woke with a start, taking in a sharp breath. She couldn’t see at first, everything was too bright and fuzzy. Wincing, she closed her eyes again, but even that was too bright at the moment. A dull ache started in her head and spread down to the rest of her body. So, she was alive and not in an eternal sleep after all. But where she was, she had no clue.
“Just like old times, indeed,” said a familiar voice.
It was then that the situation finally started to register. She could feel the sway of the horse beneath her, hear the clop of its hooves on stone. The saddle was hard underneath her, but she didn’t sit in it right. She leaned against something— no, someone— and she knew exactly who it was. It wasn’t a situation that she had planned to be in ever again. And she hated that she didn’t exactly dislike it either.
“Drink this,” Farron said as he adjusted his arm around her back.
Slowly, she eased her eyes open. The world was still bright, but at least it had color. That was a start, at least. She reached out and tentatively took the flask he offered, undid the cap, and brought it up to her mouth, but before she could drink, the smell hit her full force. She nearly jumped out of the saddle, her face twisted in disgust. Was he trying to poison her all over again?
“What is this?” At least now she was awake.
“Bilder Leaf tea,” he stated simply. “It’ll help with the poison.” He nudged the flask toward her. “Now drink.”
The finality in his tone told her he was not going to argue the drinking of the tea. She sniffed the sour, pungent odor once more. He was punishing her, she just knew it. She tipped the flask up and gulped the liquid down. The taste proved to be no better than the smell. However, it did help slake the thirst she had just noticed she had. How long had she been out?
When she had had as much of the tea that she could stand, she capped the flask and handed it back to Farron. She wiped her mouth on the sleeve of her jacket. Not very ladylike, but it wasn’t like she had to keep up any pretenses anymore.
“How long?” she asked.
“Three days,” he said, digging in a pack behind him. A moment later he held one of the dark spines up in front of her. “It was tipped with criox oil. There’s only one place to get these. It seems our friends at the Syndicate are even recruiting the Deserin tribe these days.”
“Have you ever used these before?”
“Perhaps. They are quite useful.” She could almost hear the smile in his voice.
She rolled her eyes. Of course, he would use them. “Did…” she cast a glance around at the other guards. None appeared to be too close. Never the less, she lowered her voice a little. “Did they see?”
“No,” he said, his voice quieter as well. “They were as lucky as you were, though they had the sense to only get pricked once.” He put the quill away again. “As far as they know, it was a group of thieves. But if this keeps up, they may have no choice but to find out what you are.”
Claire sighed. That may be true, but she would try and keep it from them as long as she could. The less they knew, the less danger they’d be in. Besides, knowing what she was wouldn’t change the nature of their mission. They were only there to protect her, and that they did. To a degree anyway.
“Didn’t you get poisoned?” she asked, the thought just occurring to her.
“You could say I have somewhat of an immunity to it. My late master thought it would be a good idea to build up my resistance to such things.”
She gulped at the implication of that. It seems his training had consisted of much more than she had thought.
“In any case, I don’t think he’ll be coming back anytime soon, now that he knows what you and I can do.”
That brought to mind something that the elf had said before he dragged her away. “Before, when he confronted me, he said that he was only supposed to watch.”
He grunted in agreement. “They’ve grown more cautious since our last encounter. Lianna must have scared them more than I thought.”
“I guess so.” The mention of her name from his lips stirred something deep inside her. Jealousy, perhaps— no, that was exactly what it was. And maybe a little bit of disappointment. Would she ever be able to live up to her? Maybe not, but if the memory of her could help keep the dogs at bay, then so be it. She would just have to deal with it. Though she hardly doubted she had seen the last of them. They’ll regroup and try again, and if that failed, they’d try again after that until they finally had her. They would never stop trying, she just wasn’t confident she had it in her to keep on fighting.
Claire snuggled up closer to the warmth of him. She struggled with herself, trying not to enjoy it, but she couldn’t help it. After all, she always did feel safest when she was with him. She would just chalk it up to the poison. It was as good an excuse as any.
“Well, it looks like I am at your mercy once again,” she said softly.
He laughed lightly and she could feel the vibration of it in her cheek. “I assure you, my lady, it was always I who was at your mercy.”
Heat rose to her cheeks and she was instantly glad that he wasn’t looking at her. She had never really thought about how much she had affected his life before. Even now— no, especially now— she still was. But she didn’t know
how to stop it, or even if she really wanted to.
It took her another three days and the rest of the awful tea to feel some semblance of normal again, during which she was thankfully able to sit atop her own horse. Already she could see the looks the soldiers were giving her and Farron. No doubt they were curious, if not suspicious, about their situation. At least on this adventure, she didn’t have to keep up any false pretenses. They could think whatever they wanted, for all she cared.
The scenery had slowly changed from forests to rolling plains as far as the eye could see, and then, to her excitement, back to forests again. And it was on the second day that they had passed through a small town, but very much to her dismay, they had not been able to stay the night. Her hopes for even a lumpy bed were dashed, and they only picked up the simplest of provisions.
But all of it, no matter how boring, was a distraction from the true mission at hand. One she hadn’t even thought about since the attack. How could she? It just seemed too monumental a task still. One step at a time, that was all she could manage at the moment.
It was the end of the third day when Farron finally talked to her again. He had been distant, probably giving her her space after she had so adamantly insisted that she ride her own horse, even if she didn’t exactly look up to the task. They had just stopped for the evening and the sun was beginning to set when he approached her, his face back to the careful mask she’d grown so fond of in the past. She was brushing her horse, a task she had gladly started to help with when the men had shown her how.
“How are you feeling?” he asked, his voice unemotional. Cold almost, as if he was still trying to keep his distance from her.
Either that or he was mad. Over what exactly, she wasn’t quite sure. “Better.” She gave him a meager smile to try and lighten his mood. But it didn’t work. It was like when she had first met him.
“Good,” he said, then grinned. But not the happy kind. It was the one he showed when he was up to something evil. “Now that you are feeling well, I am going to start training you tomorrow.”
She was taken aback at first, almost speechless. “But I thought—”
“I will not have another incident like the last one,” he interrupted.
She felt happy and terrified at the same time. Because for a split second she saw the crack in his mask, the worried look in his eye. And because she knew it was not going to be easy— physically or emotionally.
Terrified was the right feeling.
Farron stood before her the next afternoon in a small clearing not far from the camp, arms crossed, as cold and emotionless as ever. His daggers were missing, but she knew he was armed. He stared at her, his eyes narrowed, studying, calculating.
Claire gulped. She didn’t move. Wasn’t positive if she was allowed to. This was what she’d wanted, right? She had to keep reminding herself of that fact. Yes, she’d been trained before, by skilled men, but none of her previous teachers had frightened her as much as Farron did sometimes.
He walked towards her slowly and she grew tense. She knew she was being silly. He wasn’t going to hurt her. She was just nervous. Maybe just a little bit more than she should be.
“I’m not going to teach you how to fight like me,” he said.
Claire opened her mouth to protest, but he held a hand up to quiet her.
“What I mean,” he said, stopping in front of her, “is that I am going to teach you how to best protect yourself against people like me. Someone like you is not going to win with strength alone.”
She put her hands on her hips and was about to argue the point, but knew he was right. She had the experience to prove it. That was always one of the things that had frustrated her the most.
“Your biggest advantage, for now, is that people will underestimate you. You’re too small and innocent looking to be threatening. But that doesn’t mean you can’t use that as a weapon.” He bent and drew a small thin dagger from his boot, the blade more needle-like than flat. Like all his other weapons, it was simple, with silver finishes and black leather wrapped around the handle. He held it out to her. “Take this.”
Reluctantly, she did just that. More a knife than a dagger, really, it didn’t look all that threatening. Upon closer inspection, the blade was more unusual than she’d first thought. Almost as if it were made out of two different metals, waves formed along the blade, a dark gray metal melding with a pale silver. Rounded at the hilt, the blade flattened out toward the tip, ending in a sharp point. She raised her other hand to touch the strange metal.
“I wouldn’t,” Farron said abruptly, stopping her. “It’s old Elvish steel, forged with magic. They’re known for keeping their edge.” He smiled a little then, but it didn’t calm her in the least. “It doesn’t take much to pierce flesh.”
She gulped again, her eyes growing wide. She held the dagger more carefully away from herself. Just how many people had this thing killed?
“You’ll especially need to get over that.” He bent again and fished the sheath out of his boot and handed it to her. “Everything you learn will be useless if you can’t get used to the fact that you will have to hurt, and maybe even kill, someone someday to protect yourself. Or someone you care for.” His expression softened then. “It’s hard at first, to get over that fear. And it doesn’t get easy, just easier.”
Claire nodded. If it came down to it, she had to be strong enough to make that decision. It was either them or her. “Are you sure you want to trust me with one of your precious blades?” She raised her eyebrow at him. It was sort of an honor for him to give her another weapon, especially one of his own.
He didn’t take her joke as lightly as she thought he would. His eyebrows drew together as he seemed to consider it. “I hope to get it back in one piece someday.” He gave her a look that told her that was the only option he was giving her.
“Yes, sir,” she said, smiling up at him. And that was just what she was going to do. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know what his reaction would be if she didn’t.
“I’m going to show you how to use that, and maybe, if you want to,” his eyes drifted down to the blue pendant, “how to use that.”
That was right. She’d almost forgotten that he could use magic as well, with the help of the necklace Lianna had given him. Just like her own. She hadn’t thought to look for it until now, and it was only then that she noticed the glint of gold around his neck. So, she had given it back to him, and even worse, he had taken it. She knew she didn’t have the right to be upset, but she couldn’t help it. The familiar sting of jealousy stabbed through her chest and she tried her best to cover up her expression. In the end, it was probably for the best that he had it anyway. That was what she had to keep telling herself.
She hesitated in giving him her answer. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to learn, she was just scared of the possible side effects of trying to use her magic. She hadn’t felt any pain when she’d used it against the Syndicate member the other day, but it wasn’t that much. What if the pain came back when she tried using it more? What then?
“Only a little bit, for when you’d really need it,” he assured her. “After all, the magic in those aren’t infinite.” His careful mask slipped then and he turned quickly to hide it.
She knew what was happening to her bothered him much more than he had been showing lately. He had been trying his best to be his old aloof self, but he was starting to fail miserably. And that unnerved her more than anything, because she knew if the elf started to crumble, then it really was time to start panicking.
He turned back to her again, a flimsy façade in place, and said, “Let’s get started.”
Training with the elf was probably one of the most frustrating things she’d done in her life for two reasons.
First, because no matter how strict he had been in the past, that was nothing compared to how he acted as a teacher. When he’d joked about why he’d never offered to train her in the past, she hadn’t exactly believed him. Until now. He worked he
r to near exhaustion after full days of riding. Never giving her a break. Never letting her win. She yearned for the days when Aeron had trained her. At least then he had gone a bit easier on her, though she had to put up with the occasional advances. It was a sacrifice, she was finding more and more each passing day, that she was willing to make.
The second was because, no matter how frustrated she got, her attraction to him only grew. And although the initial awkwardness had somewhat faded, she still found it a struggle to be so close to him. His intense gazes, the way he smiled when his tough mask faltered occasionally, made her stomach flutter the way it used to. Even the slightest touch still set her skin aflame. She thought she was going mad at times, not knowing whether she wanted to hit him, or grab and kiss him.
The latter would do her no good in the long run. Not with her end goal in mind. So she channeled her frustration the best she could into anger. Into her training.
It was only after a few days that he had started to teach her how to use her magic. Hesitant at first, he seemed afraid that she would get hurt until she’d assured him that her not knowing how to use her powers would be far worse. They would practice further away from camp so the men wouldn’t find out. And it turned out she’d been on to something before the Syndicate man had attacked her. In her mind, she just had to channel her magic so that it came from the warmth of the pendant instead of from within herself. It had worked, the pain hadn’t returned, and with a little practice, she was becoming quicker and stronger. She could feel it. And all without having Farron enter her mind.
But still, he wouldn’t go easy on her. He’d drill her again and again, with and without magic, almost to her breaking point, until after a week she finally snapped. Her frustration getting the best of her, she quickly formed a small blue orb of energy and launched it at him. He dodged it easily and it hit the ground with a sizzle. He just looked at her, eyebrow raised, his eyes flashing with challenge.
“I’m trying!” she shouted in between huffs of breath. “The best I can, but it’s too much, Fare.”
