Frey

by Melissa Wright

Chapter Twelve

  Unexpected Company

  My dreams were wicked that night, all venom and wolves, snakes and beasts, death and fire. I woke in my bed, light filtering in through the window. The door was open a crack and I could see Chevelle sitting in the front room. I was hesitant to face him.

  I lay there, running back through the events of the night, the stories. Embarrassment flooded me again and I turned my head to bury it in the blankets, but something strange on the side table caught my attention. I picked it up to examine. A small bird, carved of stone. A hawk. Of onyx.

  I knew at once it was what Chevelle had been working on, carving. And then I recognized the stone, the large black stone that had pummeled my face for days, and I couldn’t help but snicker. I remembered the tiny hawk he had made with magic and my disappointment when it had turned back to the dull gray rock. He had carved me this symbol with his own hands.

  Now I was completely ashamed of my actions the previous night.

  I closed my hand around it and noticed the painting on my wrist. A hawk. I knew I had to face him. This might be a peace offering. It might be my last chance. I stood and walked into the main room, clutching the figure in my fist for courage.

  Chevelle was not alone.

  A statuesque elf with pitch-black hair and eyes rose as I came into view. Not in the respectful ‘a lady entered the room’ way, but in a way that led me to believe he wasn’t happy to have me, or anyone, find him there. He held a long staff, gripped so tightly his knuckles whitened, and he was dressed in casual traveling clothes that didn’t seem to fit his posture.

  I found myself questioning whether it were a disguise, and then I chastised myself for wandering around in ridiculous thoughts so often. They were watching me. Cursed brain fog.

  I stood there for a moment, unsure if I should leave the room after I had so obviously interrupted or pretend I had a mission and make my way to Ruby’s room. I clearly wasn’t welcome there. Neither spoke, so I lowered my gaze to the floor, taking the shortest route to Ruby’s door and closing it hastily behind me.

  Chevelle spoke to his guest and I groaned internally, wishing I’d heard their low voices earlier. Asher, as Chevelle had called the man, was apparently leaving. It sounded as if Chevelle was trying to persuade him in some way, but the man was short and cold in his responses. Quiet, too. I imagined he didn’t want me to hear them. Paranoia, my mind accused.

  I heard the front door close as I flopped onto the bed, only to jolt upright when Ruby’s door opened a few seconds later. It was Chevelle.

  My courage was gone again. He seemed to be waiting for me to speak. I tried, “I’m sorry I interrupted…”

  He nodded, but I didn’t know if he was acknowledging my interruption or pardoning it.

  He walked slowly toward the bed, glancing at Ruby’s things on the shelves and walls, and then sat on the bed beside me. I forced myself to continue breathing and kept my gaze down, knowing a flush was coming.

  He reached out and placed a hand under my chin, bringing my face up to meet his. The flush that followed was not from embarrassment. Heat flooded my neck, and I felt it might engulf me as he spoke my name. “Frey.”

  “Yes.” It was all I could manage.

  His eyes held mine and I could swear he was searching for something. He opened his mouth to speak, but the door of the wardrobe flew open.

  “Oh.” Ruby giggled the tiniest bit. “Excuse me. I didn’t mean to interrupt.” She seemed pleased she had.

  Chevelle’s hand dropped and I could see out of the corner of my eye his face was hard.

  Ruby continued, “Steed said you had a guest so I just used the back…” She trailed off when his stare didn’t soften, but she smiled. “You know, you do have your own room.”

  He stiffened and stood, not at all amused by her implication.

  Ruby began gathering things as she spoke, pretending she hadn’t noticed his attitude. “So how did it go?”

  He relaxed a little but his mood didn’t rise in the least. “We shall see.”

  “Indeed,” she purred. “Indeed.”

  He didn’t look back at me as he left the room, simply directing Ruby to take me with her when she’d finished. She seemed more than happy to comply and I was in no doubt we would be training again. I slid the hawk sculpture into my pocket.

  She hummed as she gathered, throwing a cloak at me in the process. I tied it on and drew the hood up. “Want me to carry anything?”

  She eyed me as if I was entirely absurd. “Well, if you would like to, I can find something for you.” I glared at her back and she turned to grab my arm beneath the cloak, yanking me behind her as we left the house through her closet. She replaced the cover that hid the entrance and snatched a quiver of arrows from the ground before pulling me forward again.

  “What are those for?” I asked, indicating the arrows, afraid they would somehow be used in my training.

  “They are arrows, Frey.” She was really on a roll today, a delightful mood. I shook my head, certain that didn’t bode well for me, and she laughed. “We are leaving them for Rhys and Rider to find.”

  “Are they poisoned?”

  “Yes.”

  I considered that. “Did they use all the ones you prepared last night?”

  “You’re silly, Freya. It’s fun.” The way she pronounced my name, like it was dear to her, made it harder to be angry with her. But I made the effort.

  “It’s not entirely my fault,” I huffed. And then I was sorry I’d said anything. I didn’t need to defend myself to her.

  “I know,” she said, “but it’s still fun.” I wondered if she did know. Like everyone before. I pushed the thought from my head.

  “I thought the dogs were their weapons of choice,” I said, cringing a bit as I remembered their demonstration.

  “Wolves, Frey. And they aren’t weapons.”

  “They don’t use them to attack?”

  She spoke like she was explaining to a child. “Yes, the wolves attack. But not as weapons. Not by command of the elves. The wolves attack who they want. Protect who they want.”

  “They don’t control them?”

  “No, silly. No one can control animals.” She cocked an eyebrow at me speculatively.

  “But—”

  “Okay, well, sure, you can lead an animal. You can turn your horse and guide him on the path, but that is simply pushing their heads and encouraging them with the click of your heels. You can’t make them choose to take you; it just doesn’t work that way. You can’t get into an animal’s mind and make them behave the way you want them to.”

  “But the dogs… wolves… follow them. They had them do a demonstration and—”

  “No, Frey. The wolves do not follow the elves. The wolves protect them by choice.”

  “By choice?”

  “Yes. And I have seen them tear an elf apart as quickly as defend them.” I shivered. “Rhys and Rider were saved by the wolves once. They think the animals understand. They follow the wolves, you see. That is why they are here.” We topped the ridge, jagged rock and loose dirt shifting beneath our feet, and Ruby dropped the quiver by the edge before climbing down with a deftness I had yet to master.

  Steed, Anvil, and Grey greeted us before we resumed training. I tried to keep my mind off the wolves, off the reason we were training, off the encounter with Chevelle, off all of the terrible things it kept returning to, and I was grateful for the fog that clouded my thoughts.

  Though I wasn’t exactly winning matches, I was getting better. The battering continued, and long days of constant fighting were making me tired. We took a break and I leaned back on a rock, staring at the sky as I rested.

  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. 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 fe
el of it.

  He pushed me with full force. 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. The group stared at me.

  “Frey?” Ruby asked.

  I grappled for breath. “Just a dream.” A few chuckles moved through the crowd.

  Ruby was more interested. “What about?”

  I glanced at Chevelle, a few paces away. He had the same concerned expression as they waited for my answer. I only shook my head.

  My chest still ached from panic. I sat up and took a drink from the flagon. Wine. Didn’t anyone drink water anymore?

  When Grey sat beside me, I tried to mask my surprise.

  “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 gazed at her when he spoke left no doubt.

  She noticed us watching her. “Ready to get back to it, then?”

  I grimaced, struggling to my feet. “Ruby, how long will the effects of the dust last?”

  “Depends.”

  It was the same answer she’d given me before. 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. “Want to try a weapon?”

  I was pretty sure I didn’t, give 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?”

  Her smile widened. Her hand stretched out to the side and a long, silver sword came from the pile of gear to land in her palm. She righted it, twisting the blade for me to see.

  My stomach dropped.

  “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 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, don’t cut yourself. These things are sharp.”

  She moved to toss the sword to me but 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, slashing wide arcs though the chill air. It was pleasant, nicely balanced in my hand. That didn’t mean 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.

  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 as he approached. He raised it, expertly gripping the hilt with both hands. My mouth went dry, a vague part of my brain only managing a weak, Uh-oh.

  Fear rushed through me and I wrapped my fists around the hilt of my own sword, praying I could protect myself. A smile was the only warning Chevelle gave before his blade cut the air. Instinct took over and I flung my arms up to block his swing with my own. The metal clashed and I felt the shock vibrate through me even as the peal pulsed in my ears. He struck again and I pulled the sword back, twisting to block another shot. I straightened and raised it back, surprised at how powerful I felt the moment before releasing my blow. I smiled as I swung at him, sure he would stop me but reveling in being attacker instead of victim.

  He wound his blade around mine, a metallic screech filling my ears as he knocked my strike aside before coming 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 more than I probably should have. I concentrated hard and began throwing a few good 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. Our audience commented on the show, and I glanced around to see it was evening already, the sun beginning to set. How long have 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. I realized we were still being watched and 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 and he added, “You seem to be a natural.”

  I snorted.

  Across the fire, Grey leaned over to speak in Ruby’s ear. Steed noticed me scrutinize them, so I asked, “Are they… together?” I was confident in Grey’s affection, but they didn’t act like a traditional pair.

  Steed sighed 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 when he spoke. “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.”

  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. “After my mother died. Sometimes I’m grateful for the fire witch’s seduction. He was grieving so hard…” His expression lost all trace of its usual cockiness as he brought back the memory. “Her enchantments numbed him. Then, when he woke from them, the tragedy gave him purpose.” A shadow of his smile returned 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. Chevelle pulle
d me away from Steed.

  “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 was 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 again and again. Ruby’s hummed tune was sad, the sound drifting through the walls between us as I fell into an easy 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 grinned at me. “Just planning for the trip.”

  “Trip?”

  “Yes, you know, to the peak.” She was scheming.

  “Oh.” I decided I’d let them work it out, heading instead to 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. I swore. “Fine, I’m getting dressed.” I dried off, gathering clothes from a pile I assumed was for me, too large for Ruby’s petite frame.

  I opened the door and 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.” Oh, perfect. 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 isn’t true, is it? I couldn’t really remember anything from before the village. Anything except the dreams.

  “And I’m sure you want to be unbound?”

  Why is that a question? “Of course.”

  He nodded as if he were going down a checklist. “We know council has bound you.” I waited for the next detail, my fingers curling into my palms. “And we know they must be the one or ones to unbind you.” Some part of me realized the seriousness of the conversation, but all I could do was listen. “They are, obviously… unwilling.” The breath I drew was too sharp. “I know some about the binding. I’ve studied it.”

  When he stopped, I said, “All right.” 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. “So we go back to the village and…”

  They shared an uncomfortable glance, and then, “Not High Council, Freya. Grand Council.”

  Oh, right. The ones who were trying to capture me. The ones who want to burn me. Their cautious demeanor made more sense now. 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, getting 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; Ruby shifted her jaw.

  “No.” I held up a 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. In fact, I was fairly certain Ruby and Chevelle were avoiding me. I waited through the morning and finally—around midday—I gave up and relaxed onto the ground, staring up at the sky. The earth beneath me was warm, the sun shining bright. I watched as a bird flew high overhead. It was gliding, slow and steady on the wind.

  As I shielded my eyes with a hand, 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 flying. I breathed deep and conjured the image it would see, looking down on us.

  The picture was sharp, even at this 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. Hardwood bows rested high on their backs. The wolves were mostly concealed on the ground, vigilant. One glanced up at me, at the bird. Someone approaching, robe and tassels blowing in the cool breeze. The second wolf looked forward. He saw it, too, and abruptly pointed, calling out.

  But the howl echoed in my own ears, not my imagination, and 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 the councilman 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 bewilderment. It was only a few stuttered heartbeats before recognition came.

  “Stop!” I hissed. All eyes turned to me, but I glared at Chevelle. “Stop,” I repeated.

  He understood. My ears ceased ringing, my hearing cleared. I stepped forward, the rage still fuming. I felt like a fool for not realizing before. He had been the cause of my hearing issues, and he was the one holding the tracker there. Chevelle had bound the man 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 defiance. The sword sat in my newly acquired sheath and I drew it out, taking a peculiar sort of delight in the ssshk that sounded when the steel passed through. The others watched me, silent and wary, but the tracker smirked. He wasn’t afraid of a sword. The last tracker hadn’t given at broken bones, not even before the threat of certain death. I’d need something dreadful, a new tactic to convince him.

  A tiny snake sunning on a nearby rock caught my eye and I smiled. Some part of me knew what had happened before, had felt it. 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 bare skin. Drawing the snake close with magic, I took it in my hand, its thin green body writhing over my left palm, the sword grasped in my right. The prisoner watched me, almos
t smug.

  It was a small snake, its white belly confirming it was nonvenomous, its frame no thicker than my pinkie, but it would do. I slid the tip of the sword across the skin above the man’s knee, making a narrow incision. His expression did change then, giving way to uncertainty. I smiled at him as the sword tip rested against his leg. In measured movements, I placed the snake on the base of the blade, letting it slide toward its mark. I closed my eyes to relax, settle into the snake as I had the bird.

  My knees buckled as I released too much and I had to back off, giving myself just enough to control it. As it entered the wound, the tracker gasped and my smile stretched wickedly. I wormed my way blindly up his leg, intent on getting the information I needed.

  They’re getting closer. They’ve found us a third time now. They’ll kill us. I wanted to free my mind, free my bonds. They won’t take me.

  Something about that last thought didn’t seem right, like it wasn’t mine, but I couldn’t follow it. The tracker screamed; it had reached his thigh. My eyes flicked open. The body of the snake made a lump under the skin of the tracker’s leg. His face was contorted in agony, but that wasn’t what had done it. It was the fear. He had cracked. Chevelle released the tracker’s hand long enough for the man 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. It jerked and coiled free of the wound, flicking blood over the tracker’s pristine white robe. Behind me, a low voice ordered, “Kill him.”

  I glanced down at the sword, still in my hand. The sword I was supposed to take 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.

  I looked away.

  The others stared at me. I couldn’t blame them.

  Steed’s voice was low, wary. “He didn’t mean you, Frey.”

  I turned, unable to stand the bloody vision in my peripheral. The tracker’s words waited in Chevelle’s hand. “Okay,” I said, feeling slightly detached from myself. “Let’s try it.”

  Chevelle’s disbelief was more than evident as he shot back, “No.”

  Ruby spoke up. “It could be a trick. He’ll need to try it on someone else first.” Someone else? Who else was bound? She could see I was prepared to argue. “It isn’t safe.”

  “And if it doesn’t work?”

  She didn’t answer. I remembered the story of her father then, how he’d been released after the fairy’s death.

  I faced Chevelle. “If the council member who bound me dies, then will I be released?”

  He plainly regretted what he’d divulged that morning, but something else rested just below his reluctance. Something hopeful. Something that burned beneath my skin. He answered, “Yes.”

  “Then we kill them.” And if we don’t know which ones? “We kill them all.” I glanced around the clearing as the others watched me. The atmosphere had changed, and I realized only then the uncertainty I’d grown to expect. This was different. This was reverence.

  Anvil smiled.

  A movement at the tree line caught everyone’s attention, and I turned to find Chevelle’s onetime guest, Asher. He stood in the shadows, staff in hand, as if allowing us to see. The air was still as he inclined his head toward Chevelle and then turned, a long, dark braid whipping behind him as he disappeared into the brush. This seemed to mean something to the group, something like relief.

  I stared after him, but Anvil stepped forward, thumping his balled fist against his chest in a gesture I didn’t understand. Grey followed, repeating the action and adding a single nod, and Ruby clasped her hands, bouncing excitedly from heel to toe. I felt myself drawing back together, tied by the knots in my stomach and mind. A tandem wolf howl sounded in the distance.

  My stomach swam in unease.