~
Today was brilliant. I left a sleeping Rune just in time to find my sister sneaking from the castle. I followed her all the way to her secret spot. It took us half the day to get there, but it was worth it. It’s so far away from any kind of traffic, I have no idea how she even discovered it.
Nestled in a patch of trees outside the forest was some sort of camp. I watched her at first. She scoured the area searching through the things she found there. But I couldn’t observe for long. I revealed myself and inquired about her previous finds and all the questions that were plaguing me. She was furious! She screamed and cursed and fumed. She was no help with my queries so I was forced to look around myself.
Whatever had been there lived a little like the imps. And there were imp tracks there, but it appeared only one. A massive numbers of bowls and jars littered the camp. I have no idea who would need so many. The fairies like containers, but not of this crude sort—the craftsmanship was almost that of a troll. I tried to stay on the opposite side of the camp from my sister’s wrath, but I found tracks and had to follow them near her, stirring up another fit of rage. The prints were shoed, about the size of elves, but the treads were irregular. Whatever stayed here, there were a lot of them.
Near the center of the camp the ground was beat down with tracks, circling a ring of stones. I found remnants inside, and ashes. A crude fire pit. Around that, several feet out, were various logs, I assumed for sitting around the pit for warmth. A few huts were situated about the camp but their construction was unlike anything I’d seen before, very poorly built. I ducked inside one and was shocked to see it was full of possessions. Clothing, bedding, so much left behind. I had thought they’d departed suddenly, but I was confident then that it was not of their choosing.
I went back outside and examined the tracks again. I followed the imp’s this time and found my answer. Outside of the camp, I uncovered blood and drag marks. The imp had killed what appeared to be three of the camp’s inhabitants and dragged them off, likely by stringer and tow. Whatever was there had run away because of the attack, and recently.
I questioned my sister again—she’d had some time to cool down—but she was no help. I immediately knew she had not even considered that whatever she had been so interested in was still out here, probably close. I didn’t clue her in. After a little more time there, I acted as if I’d lost interest and headed home.
Tomorrow, I will follow the tracks. I will find whoever was there and solve the mystery of their rudimentary tools and strange huts.
I yawned. After a quick glance around, I slid the book back into my pack. I rolled over and fell asleep listening to Ruby’s quiet tune.
The next morning, the group seemed in unusually high spirits. I had no idea why the mood had shifted, but I enjoyed the laughter and joking anyway.
We rode past a waterfall, the roar of water making me curious. I figured Ruby was my best bet. Chevelle gave me no answers and though hers were sometimes cryptic, I knew she’d been reading books on magic. “Ruby, is there a way to harness the power of things… like that waterfall?”
Grey glanced at me. The look of concern for my intelligence was not exactly uncommon, but it was something I could never quite get used to.
“Not that I know of,” she said. She got her mischievous grin then. “Though I did read once that there was a way to steal life force and use it for yourself.”
Chevelle shot her a stern rebuke from the front of the pack.
She continued as if excusing herself, “But it was merely a fairy’s tale and probably not entirely accurate.” Then, in a lower voice, “It is fun to speculate, though.”
I wiped at my cheek to clear the dampness from the mist, mirroring her low tone as I questioned her. “How would you steal life force?”
“Well, like I said, probably not accurate… but you would have to take the other’s life in order to gain their power. Take it in a specific manner.” She noticed Chevelle glaring at her and clamped her mouth shut.
I waited until he turned back around before I whispered, “Ruby, did you bring the magic book with you?”
She smiled.
“Can I read it?”
She winked at me.
I started to share her grin, but before I could, Chevelle was in front of us, his horse blocking my way. I was almost thrown from my saddle when we stopped to avoid running into him. He was angry again. “Frey.”
“What?”
“Do you remember the last time you used a spell?”
I recalled the smell of burning flesh as the maps cut into my palms. “Yes,” I muttered, defeated.
The look he gave Ruby was clear. There would be no magic study for me.
But I did know she had it. Maybe I’ll be able to steal it…
Lost in thought, I began to fall behind the group. The higher we rose up the mountain, the more treacherous the jagged rock became. I felt every step, holding tight as the horse’s hooves slipped and jumped. The haze thickened, keeping the view both ahead and behind close. It gathered in my hair, leaving it a matted mess with the single braid—Ruby’s handiwork—dripping condensation over the shoulder of my cloak.
I decided to practice as we rode, closing my eyes to sink partially into my horse, still alert to my own self and the outside world.
It was there, leading my horse and seeing through his eyes, that the pain struck. It came on instantaneously, hitting me like a blade, cutting, shearing. It was accompanied by sharpness of sound as well. My ears were in excruciating pain. The horse dropped, his head smacked to the ground and I watched through his eyes as he hit. The animal’s senses stilled, not panicked as my own. I didn’t understand what was happening, couldn’t quite form a thought.
I yearned to retreat into the horse, run from the agony, but the severity of it tore me back and kept me there in my own head. It felt and sounded like metal bands inside my mind, inside my ears, screeching. I hadn’t opened my eyes again and now I couldn’t. I couldn’t find my body; I wanted to bring my hands to my head, cover my ears. But I couldn’t feel anything aside from the pain in my mind.
I focused all of my energy on finding some feeling somewhere and finally, though the terror was unrelenting, I felt my body again, knew it was there. It still didn’t respond, but I knew I hadn’t fallen with the horse. Something had caught me. Not the ground, not a rock. Someone was carrying me. The horror must have stretched time, making the few seconds seem like minutes.
I struggled to bring myself back. I could hear nothing but a piercing squall. I willed my eyes open, though only a fraction. I was looking at the back of a horse from my position slung over someone’s shoulder. My eyes closed once more as the pain doubled and I lost my body for a moment. I concentrated until I got it back and then realized I was bouncing. I worked my eyes again, using every ounce of control I had left. I was on a horse, running. Not my own. Chevelle was holding me in front of him, my body limp and useless. I fought to focus on more but was overtaken by pain. We were running away?
I could control nothing but my mind, and that just barely. As my eyes closed again, I reached out and found my horse as he lay motionless on the ground, my Steed. He wasn’t dead. I asked him to stand and tried to impress upon him to follow. I hoped it had worked as I faded into blackness.
Frey Page 19
