13. Darak
13
DARAK
T he oil lamps of Kestral cast weak circles of light through the darkness, barely illuminating the cobblestone streets. Lirien stumbles beside me, her footsteps growing heavier with each passing moment.
"We need to find somewhere to rest," I say, watching her sway slightly, her silver hair catching the dim lamplight as she stumbles. The night's events have clearly taken their toll.
"I'm fine." Her words slur together, her usually sharp tongue dulled by fatigue. "We should keep moving."
"You can barely walk straight." I keep my voice low, though there's no one else on these darkened streets to hear us.
"I said I'm?—"
She trips over an uneven stone, and I catch her elbow, my leather-clad fingers wrapping firmly around her arm. A small victory blooms in my chest at her exhaustion-induced compliance. After weeks of her relentless resistance, seeing the proud witch finally yield to necessity brings a grim satisfaction.
"Look at that, for once you're not arguing with me." I can't help the smirk that tugs at my lips, even as I maintain my steadying grip on her arm.
"Shut up." But there's no bite to her words, her usual venom replaced by weary resignation. "Let's just find an inn." Her glowing eyes have dimmed to barely a flicker, another tell of her depleted state.
The sound of boots scraping stone catches my attention. My hand moves to my sword hilt as five figures materialize from the shadows between buildings. Their ash-gray skin marks them as my kin, but the gleam in their eyes speaks of desperation rather than nobility.
"Well, what do we have here?" The leader steps forward, twirling a dagger. "A Miou and his little human pet?"
"Walk away," I warn, pushing Lirien behind me. "You're outmatched."
Another thief circles to our left. "Five against two? I like those odds."
"Your math skills need work." I draw my blade. "It's five against one Miou warrior. The human is just here to watch."
Lirien's fingers dig into my arm. "I can still fight."
"You can barely stand."
The thieves charge before she can argue further, their blades glinting in the lamplight. Dfam caste, by their untrained movements - the lowest of our kind, scraping by on petty crime and violence. Still dangerous in numbers, but nothing compared to battlefield combat. Their stance betrays their lack of formal training, the way they grip their weapons like common thugs rather than warriors.
I parry the first attacker's blade with practiced ease, the familiar ring of steel against steel echoing through the alley as I drive him back with a swift counter. His eyes widen with the realization that he's facing a true Miou warrior. Behind me, Lirien's magic sputters and fades like a dying candle, her exhaustion evident in her trembling hands. The usual ethereal glow of her spells flickers weakly, barely illuminating her pale features.
"Use the bond," I command, ducking under a wild swing that whistles past my ear. The fool overextended himself, leaving his flank exposed. "Draw from my strength."
"I-I can't focus—" Lirien's voice cracks with strain, her usual confidence shattered.
"Yes, you can. Take what you need." I feel the familiar tug of our connection, like an invisible thread pulled taut between us. As a Miou warrior, sharing power isn't natural to me, but I've learned to suppress my instinctive resistance to her magic.
The connection between us blazes to life for the first time since the ritual. Power surges through my veins as Lirien's consciousness brushes against mine. Her magic flows through me, amplified by my own vitality, creating something entirely new.
My blade moves faster, stronger. Each strike carries the weight of both our abilities. Two of the thieves fall, their weapons clattering against stone.
Lirien's magic erupts behind me, no longer weak or uncontrolled. Green light pulses through the street as she pins one attacker to a wall. The air crackles with energy that tastes like lightning and feels like victory.
"On your left!" she calls.
I spin, catching the fourth thief's blade inches from my throat. The bond thrums between us, and I can feel Lirien's presence directing my movements. We move as one entity, her magic extending my reach while my strength steadies her casting.
One of them breaks and runs. The remaining thief follows, leaving their unconscious companions behind.
My blood sings with borrowed power. Every sensation intensifies—the cool night air, the rough grip of my sword, the steady beat of Lirien's heart through our connection. The rush is intoxicating.
"That was..." Lirien sways, but her eyes are bright with wonder.
I catch her elbow again, steadying her. "Incredible."
The bond is alive, reinvigorated from the strengthened connection finally seeming to take place.
"We should find that inn," Lirien murmurs, but she doesn't pull away from my touch.
The bond is lightened with an unfamiliar warmth, and my chest tightens as I watch Lirien steady herself against a wall. Her silver hair catches the lamplight, and something shifts inside me – a protective instinct that goes beyond our magical connection.
"You're right about finding that inn," I say, but hold up a hand. "Wait here a moment."
I kneel beside the thieves, methodically checking their pockets. My fingers brush against leather pouches heavy with coin – enough to afford us decent lodging for once.
A glint of metal catches my eye. I extract a silver ring from the leader's vest, turning it over in my palm. Delicate vines wrap around the band, meeting at a small green stone that reminds me of Lirien's eyes. The craftsmanship is too fine for common thieves – likely stolen from some merchant's daughter.
Standing, I turn to face Lirien. The ring looks even more striking held up between us, the stone catching the weak lamplight. "Here."
Her eyes widen as I offer it to her. "Seriously?"
"Would you prefer I leave it with the thieves?"
"I'd prefer you not loot unconscious bodies like a common criminal."
"They attacked us first." I step closer, still holding out the ring. "Besides, I've seen you eyeing that twisted copper band you wear. This is better crafted."
She crosses her arms. "And that makes stealing it right?"
"Consider it payment for services rendered. Your magic did half the work tonight."
"Our magic," she corrects, but her fingers twitch toward the ring. "The bond made it stronger."
"Then take it as a symbol of that." The words slip out before I can stop them, heavy with meaning I'm not ready to examine.
I take her delicate hand in mine, ignoring her protests as I slide the ring onto her middle finger. The green stone catches the lamplight, matching the spark of irritation in her eyes. My thumb brushes across her knuckles as I turn her hand, admiring how the silver vines wrap around her finger like they were crafted for her.
"Perfect fit." The words are carrying an undercurrent of emotions I can't quite decipher.
Lirien yanks her hand back, tucking a wayward strand of silver hair behind her ear. The motion draws attention to the scar on her cheek – the one I gave her. Strange how that mark now fills me with regret rather than satisfaction.
"Come on," she says, swaying slightly. "I really am tired, you know."
A smirk tugs at my lips. The exhaustion in her voice brings out my teasing nature. "Want me to carry you?"
She scoffs, the sound carrying more amusement than annoyance. "In your dreams, Elf boy."
I watch Lirien walk away, the supply bag swinging at her side. The silver ring catches a glimmer of lamplight, and something warm stirs in my chest. "Every night," I mutter, shaking my head at our familiar pattern of bickering.
The words echo in my mind, and I freeze. Every night. The phrase sits heavy in my stomach as realization dawns. I've fallen into a routine with her – these little moments, the teasing, the way she pretends to be annoyed while fighting back a smile.
The strengthened bond wavers between us, and I can feel her exhaustion mingling with my own thoughts. This connection... it's more intimate than I expected. More dangerous.
My fingers brush the hilt of my sword – a warrior's comfort gesture. What have I done? A Miou warrior, bound to a human witch, and now I'm giving her jewelry like some lovesick merchant's son. The bond was meant to be tactical, nothing more.
But I can feel her presence in my mind, warm and familiar. Like coming home after battle. The thought sends a chill down my spine.
"Are you coming?" Lirien calls over her shoulder, stumbling slightly. "Or are you planning to stand there all night?"
I quicken my pace to catch up, wondering if this really is the tactical decision that I said it was.