by Kelly Napoli
CHAPTER 10
LESSON
The next two weeks passed without incident, as though peace had finally returned to the legendary forest. Kiethara was lying on her back in another one of her preferred spots of the forest, though one, she admitted, she did not visit often. It was a little off of the southeastern corner of her clearing. It wasn’t exactly a clearing itself, but here the trees were a bit thinner. Sunlight managed to make its way to the forest floor in beautiful stripes. The scattered trees provided small spots of shade that littered the sunlit grass. Each tree was young and plump, perfect for fruit. She ate here frequently, which was exactly what she was doing now.
She was also running the story of her great-grandmother over and over again in her head as she chewed slowly on a strawberry. It seemed more like a myth than a legend. Had Pracilzee really loathed what she had been born to do? It was hard to imagine. Yes, Kiethara found her…position rather tedious at times, but it still wouldn’t justify her to go to such extremes…
“Kiethara?”
Kiethara leapt to her feet instinctively, spinning on her heel in search of the one who had called her name.
Finally, she looked into magnificently green eyes.
“Navadar!” Kiethara cried with pleasure, and before she could think to stop herself, she hurled herself at him, throwing her arms around him.
Heat flooded her face as her sense caught up with her actions, and she quickly took a step back. Did she really have no control when it came to him? Couldn’t she ever maintain her dignity? Her pale cheeks burned as she locked her hands together behind her back. She was surprised she didn’t turn invisible again. Navadar laughed.
“The forest must be pretty humdrum if you’re that excited to see me,” he commented with a grin.
“You have no idea,” she replied, remembering the monotonous months that had been her life before the forest was visited. She expected him to laugh, but all she heard was a sharp intake of breath, while she saw his cheerful expression turn to one of horror.
“What?!” she gasped, spinning once again to scan the vicinity. Her shield flew up with a rush of fear. Would Sinsenta come back so fast? The thought tightened her throat, constricting her airways.
“Your arm,” Navadar choked out.
Kiethara turned back to him in surprise, her shield disappearing. It took her a second to realize that he was referring to the huge, dull pink line that ran down her right arm. Her gaze flickered down to the scar; she swallowed as her throat constricted her again. She quickly pulled the arm behind her.
“What happened?” he whispered, pulling her arm forward with his strong grip.
“Nothing,” Kiethara mumbled. “I’m fine.”
“Fine? Look how long it runs! It wasn’t shallow, either,” Navadar said, his gaze flickering up from her arm and into her navy blue eyes. “Are you all right?”
“Navadar,” she said in exasperation. She was surprised to see his expression was calculating.
“I saw you not too long ago. How…?” he trailed off.
“It’s a long story,” Kiethara sighed.
“Did Gandador do this to you?” Navadar asked in a fierce tone.
“No, not exactly,” she hedged.
“That’s not a very convincing no.” It was obvious he wasn’t going to relent.
“S-Sinsenta did this to me.”
“Who’s Sinsenta?” he asked. Interesting, she thought. He must not be as well known as Gandador.
“One of Gandador’s servants? I don’t know exactly how to explain him; he’s more of a faithful puppy dog.”
“Gandador has servants?” he asked, surprised.
“Apparently.”
“So how did this Sinsenta”—he spat the name with a disdain that surprised Kiethara—“do this to you?”
“Do we have to discuss this?” Kiethara asked, almost to the point of pleading.
“No, of course not,” Navadar said quickly, finally catching on to how uncomfortable she was. She smiled in relief.
“Sit,” she suggested. She laid herself in a nice patch of sun, on her stomach, crossing her ankles in the air and resting her chin in her hands. Navadar followed her suggestion, leaning against the tree with one knee bent and the other stretched out in the shade. Her patch of strawberries lay in the middle.
Kiethara looked up to catch Navadar’s eyes, which had been staring at her. It made her squirm; was the scar really that big of a deal? She lowered her gaze.
“I didn’t know strawberries were still in season,” Navadar commented, in attempt to make conversation.
“Season?” Kiethara asked, raising her eyebrows.
“When something is usually grown…the time of year it has the highest yield…You know, season,” Navadar tried to explain.
He had lost her.
Never in her life had she had a problem with growing food. When she had been younger and unskilled with her magic, she had simply found food in the trees. The fruits hadn’t been there at a certain time, or with certain…yields. Everything was there at every time of the year, lush and perfectly able to eat.
It seemed like nothing in her life worked the way his did.
“So, then, I bet you’re just dying to have a strawberry,” she said, desperately trying to lighten the suddenly tense moment. Thankfully, he smiled.
“You caught me.”
“Go ahead and have one,” Kiethara offered. Her crystals brightened slightly as, with a wave of her hands, more strawberries shot out of the ground.
Instead of reaching for one, as she thought he would, Navadar froze with encompassing eyes and a gaping mouth. He was staring at the patch of strawberries as though he had never seen anything like it in his life. She frowned. Every single move she made seemed to offset him in one way or another. Obviously, she needed to make a few lifestyle changes if she wanted to count on his return.
One, use as little magic as possible.
Kiethara, her eyes on Navadar’s expression, slowly brought her hand forward to pick a strawberry. As soon as her hand crossed his vision he came back to himself, his cheeks coloring slightly. He quickly took one for himself.
They ate in silence for a moment, listening to the rustling of the leaves and the occasional call of an animal. The succulent strawberry released fresh juice on her taste buds, and she could not help but praying that it tasted as good to Navadar as it did to her.
“Do you carry your weapon around with you all the time?” Kiethara asked, noticing the tip of it peeking over his back.
“Of course! Like you, although far less often, perhaps, I can get attacked at any time,” he reasoned. “I also need it to hunt.”
“Hunt?” she asked uncertainly, though she attempted to adopt a tone of polite, nonchalant interest.
“Deer, mostly. There are a few animals I’m accustomed to.”
“You hunt animals?! Why?!”
“For food, of course,” he said slowly, as though she were a fool.
“You…eat them?” Kiethara asked slowly, struggling to contain the alarm that threatened to explode out of her.
“What? You can’t tell me you have never eaten them before!” he exclaimed.
“Of course I’ve never eaten an animal!” she declared, outraged that he would accuse her of such blasphemy.
“I didn’t mean to offend you,” Navadar said quickly, a bit taken aback. “I’ve just never heard of someone who has never eaten meat before!”
“R-really?” she stammered.
“Yes.”
Kiethara wasn’t sure how she felt about that. She suddenly had the sensation of being helplessly, immensely alone here in the forest, as though the world he came from was an unconquerable distance away from her. Not only that, but these people from the distant world were aliens to her; she was lost to their customs that they were able to share with one another, discoveries that they had reached with the assistance of company.
“Anyway,” he said, pulling her out of her sinking sensation. “In my opinion, the b
ow is the best weapon. They’re easy to make, easy to handle, and they can be quite precise when you have the adequate skill to use one.”
“Sounds perfect to me,” she complimented.
“It is,” he agreed. Then his eyes lit up. “Would you like me to demonstrate?”
“You would do that?” she asked excitedly.
“I can even teach you how,” Navadar said, hopping to his feet. He walked the few feet that separated them and held out his hand to help her out. She took it greedily, her stomach flipping in an uneasy way that she had never experienced before, and her cheeks turned a soft shade of pink. He pulled her up with such easy that she left the ground for a moment.
“Sorry,” he chuckled, as he set her on her feet. “No wonder you’re so light, you don’t eat meat!”
Kiethara paused. “Is that a good thing or a bad thing…in your opinion?” she asked, biting her lip. Navadar laughed even harder.
“It seems I have a lot to teach you,” he amended.
“I am a tad bit out of touch,” she admitted with a tiny smile.
“I can tell,” he grinned.
“So are you really going to teach me how to use your bow?” Kiethara asked with an enthusiastic yet slightly impatient pitch.
“Yes, let’s get started,” Navadar said, clapping his hands together once and scanning their surroundings with a thoughtful expression. He took a couple steps back and to the right.
“Here will serve as a good spot,” he said, and beckoned her toward him.
She all but skipped to his side.
“All right, do you see that tree?” he asked, pointing to a tree that was a decent distance away. She nodded.
“Watch me, and it,” Navadar ordered as he reached for his weapon.
When he brought it around from his back, the details of it came into a better perspective. It was made with what seemed to be wood, but it was bended to form a smooth curve with such grace that it seemed impossible that something as crude as wood could be manipulated into such a form. Both ends were connected by a black string. Towards the highest point of the arc, it was encased in a few inches of a mysterious white material, appearing much stiffer than its fluid counterpart. This elegantly finished addition gave the weapon a very balanced look; clearly stating grace and nimbleness as well as power and strength.
“I made this myself,” Navadar said, noticing her awed gape. “It took an awful long time, I’ll tell you that.”
“It’s…beautiful,” she whispered, putting out a single finger and running it down the white matter in the middle. It was very cold to her touch. “What material is this?”
“Bone.”
“Bone?!” she gasped, removing her finger at once. He sighed.
Next from his back he removed a long, straight shaft, adorned with a pointed head. The shaft was made of the same deep, rich wood his bow consisted of, but the point was made from chiseled stone. On the opposite side, where the shaft widened, two white feathers festooned its tail. Kiethara could, at least, name this piece: an arrow.
“Now you nock the arrow here, on the bow,” Navadar explained as he loaded the dazzling yet dangerous piece of art. “Then you pull back, hold the tail here with your two knuckles, and…”
Navadar pulled back on the string, bringing the arrow back as well, and planted his feet. The muscles in his arm flexed as he lowered his head to level his line of sight with the shaft of the arrow. Closing one eye, with the twitch of his fingers, he released it.
Kiethara, who had had her eyes on Navadar, did not see the arrow zoom across the space between Navadar and the tree. She looked up just in time to see the stone point dig itself into the very center of the trunk of the tree. She gasped in amazement.
“My best arrow; I’ve never missed a shot with it!” he said proudly, grinning from ear to ear.
“That was astonishing,” she told him earnestly.
“Thank you. Here, you try,” he offered, holding out the bow. She just stared at it.
“You…you are kidding, are you not?” she asked blankly. How in the world was she supposed to copy Navadar’s enthralling performance?
“Not up for the challenge?” he teased.
“All right, then,” she said unsurely. Navadar handed her his weapon. She was surprised to feel how heavy it was. He then handed her an arrow, this one crafted with turquoise feathers. It was just as beautiful as the first.
“You might not want to give me such a good arrow, especially if you want it back,” she warned.
“Good point,” Navadar said, replacing it with a different one. The new arrow had no feathers, and instead of a head of stone, its tip was made of burnt wood.
“Aim for that tree,” he said, pointing towards a tree that was a little closer and wider. An easy target.
Kiethara looked down at the craftsmanship in her hand and tried to place the arrow just as Navadar had. She pulled back on the string, which was unyielding and stiff, making her job much more difficult. Before she could pull the string back even halfway, the arrow fell to the ground. Navadar laughed.
“That was pitiful,” Kiethara said, staring at the arrow lying in the grass with a shameful expression. She managed to smile along with him, but her cheeks were hot.
“Yes,” Navadar chortled. “But it was your first attempt. Here, let me help.”
Navadar picked up her arrow for her, allowing her to string it again. Before she could draw, however, his arms were suddenly around her. He took his large, warm hands and placed them on top of her small ones; his body encased hers and his warm breath tickled the back of her neck.
So, this was how he was going to help her.
Warmth spread from the top of her head to the bottom of her bare, dirt smudged feet. It wasn’t embarrassment. It was something more than that. Something she didn’t have a name for. It sent her stomach into a series of flips, twists, and turns—acrobats her insides had never performed before.
“Pull back a little more,” he murmured into her ear. His hands gripped hers tighter as he helped her pull back the arrow further. He paused for a second and then, together, they released the arrow.
It was not as perfect as his own shot, but it came much closer to the center of the trunk than she expected.
“Not a very good arrow. I was thinking about burning it,” Navadar admitted, stepping back.
Burning it. That gave her an idea.
Kiethara went and retrieved her arrow. She made her way back to the same spot, loaded the bow, and pointed the black tip at the same tree.
In that position, she drew forth the memory of Sinsenta. It took all her focus to recreate the same, powerful fury that had driven her power in the first place. She lost track of time as she let the emotion consume her.
“Kiethara?” Navadar asked uncertainly. The corners of her mouth twitched as her index finger burst into flames.
She quickly brought it to the arrow and, after a fraction of a second, released it. The arrow, now engulfed in flames, shot through the air, landing a bit off the center of the tree with a thud.
She let out a squeal of delight as she saw her success before looking over her shoulder at Navadar.
Navadar had staggered a few steps back, his relatively gorgeous face pale. His green eyes were wide with shock and fright as they locked onto the burning arrow implanted in the tree.
Alarmed at this reaction, Kiethara whipped around to look at the tree. She made a quick wind pick up to snuff out the flames, like whipping away a stain; the fire had not had a chance to harm the tree.
“Navadar?” Kiethara asked slowly, turning back to him. He still hadn’t moved, or gained much color to his skin.
“How did you do that?” Navadar breathed.
“Magic,” she replied blankly, blinking her eyes. What a foolish question. She looked at him quizzically and, when he did not immediately respond, she realized her mistake.
She wanted to kick herself, and hard. Had she forgotten the rule she had just laid down for herself that eas
ily? Using her magic in front of Navadar reciprocated no positive responses. He was…normal and she could do well with restraining from using any of her powers.
Unfortunately, that was equivalent to asking herself not to blink.
Meanwhile, Navadar seemed to come back to himself. He walked back over to her, slightly dazed, but steady in his stride.
“Well done,” he said in an even tone, holding his hand out for his bow. She relinquished it quickly.
“T-thank you.”
There was an awkward silence that lay rather thickly between them as Navadar replaced his bow to his back. It seemed there was no hope for Navadar to recover completely, nor for any atmosphere that contained even the smallest degree of comfort.
Then he looked up at the sky and sighed.
“Do you have to go?” she asked.
“Yes, my father…” Navadar didn’t finish the thought, but he didn’t need to.
“I understand. I’m grateful for your coming,” she said politely, trying to use manners as her a mask for disappointment.
“It was a pleasure,” he said. He suddenly looked down at her more intensely than ever before, a look of fierce concentration shadowing his handsome features, making a decision. He then reached for her hand and bowed low, kissing the back of it with tenderness that shook her from the inside. Her crystals glowed.
“Please, don’t hesitate to call upon the forest again,” she whispered, unable to regain more volume than that.
“Of course.” She couldn’t doubt the sincerity in his voice.
Navadar started towards the trees. Once again, as though it was an established ritual, he turned to give her one last glance over his shoulder. The emotions that lit his green eyes were too complicated and mixed for her to tell apart. Then, too soon, he turned and walked away.
Kiethara took a shaky breath to steady her before starting back towards her clearing. Navadar’s face was still vivid before her eyes, his alien scent still vivid in her nostrils, and his voice still ringing in her ears. He had a peculiar time in his visits; they always seemed to be after one of her perilous encounters, and his timing was getting closer and closer to the actual event.
The prospect of that was unacceptable.
