Chapter 29 #2
The boy had closed his eyes, his heaving chest calming at the same time as his magic.
The flames receded to a few sparks, and Alvara crawled toward him, whimpering through clenched teeth at every tug to the burnt skin of her leg.
She reached out and touched his arm, and he flinched.
His eyes snapped open, flames swallowing her magic once again, but the fear soon drained out of his face.
“It’s all right.” He wouldn’t understand her words, but hopefully her gentle tone would be enough. Tears gushed down the boy’s cheeks, sobs racking his body. Alvara sat with him and even ventured so far as to wrap her arm around his shoulder.
“He needs food to restore his energy,” she said to anyone who would listen. “They can burn themselves out on their magic. If you treat them with anger or fear, it will only make it worse. They need help. To know they’re safe and no one will hurt them because of what they are.”
A garbled conversation ensued until the guard finally spoke. “You may enter Gosibik and commit blood oath in temple of Kutamir. You help part-elves control magic, you stay.”
It was good, but it wasn’t enough. The white-hot pain radiating from her leg sawed at the rational side of her mind, so she spoke quickly. “We need shelter. Food. We will help as much as we can.”
The guard extended a hand and pulled her to her unsteady feet. “I am Sten. You stay in halls of Chief Frigar for now. We discuss permanent solutions later. Food is scarce this time of year, but we share what we have. Arrange more hunting and fishing parties.”
The skin on Alvara’s leg had blistered, red and angry where the magic had singed it. She forced herself to breathe through her nose to push down the nausea rising in her throat. “And healers?”
“We have no magic. But human healers do good work.”
She needed to sit down and tend to her burns, or she was going to collapse on top of the chief’s boots. “Bring me to Boden. Then we’ll do your blood oath and tell the others.”
Sten let her walk free of his grasp this time, though the extra support would have helped as she hobbled to keep the weight off her bad leg. Pure exhilaration bloomed in her gut, washing away the pain, at least momentarily, as they approached the gates.
Alvara had done it. It felt good—no, incredible, to know that she had convinced the humans to grant them a chance.
She had all but forgotten about her injuries until she saw Boden, who was giving the humans around him a look of boredom that begged them to realize tying his hands behind his back accomplished little to someone who could wield magic and shift into a bear.
Sten grunted something, and the other men released Boden, who rushed to Alvara. “Are you all right?”
“That hardly matters—”
“It does to me.” His gaze slid to her leg. He dropped to his knees, his hands hovering above her burns. “Who did this?”
The earth beneath them quaked, and the guards behind them started to murmur. He needed to calm down if they wanted to end the day alive.
“For Vitharen’s sake, Boden. It’s just a burn.”
His only response was a grunt as he pulled the material away from her blisters.
“It was a demi-elf. He was just scared. What’s more important is that we can now enter the town. As long as we help train them…and take a blood oath.”
“You agreed to a blood oath?” Boden dropped his head into his hands, while she coated her injuries in another layer of ice to alleviate the pain. “Are you going to tell me next that you’re marrying the chief?”
She had no idea what marry meant, so she ignored him. “I didn’t have another choice.” To be fair, Alvara hadn’t asked for another choice, but she hadn’t exactly forged many alliances before today.
Boden sighed and wrapped his arm around her waist, relieving the pressure on her leg as they headed back into Gosibik. “As soon as we’re finished, I’ll bring you to the healer I know, the best they have. She’s helped me more times than I can count.” His voice softened. “Thank you.”
Violence still simmered and sparked everywhere she looked, though guards had dispersed through the crowds in an attempt to instill order.
Boden’s grip tightened as they passed throngs of less than welcoming spectators, but he didn’t cower from their gaze.
Maybe they treated him just as terribly as the elves did.
They approached an impressive rectangular structure with a tall, layered roof and intricately carved woven knots and wriggling serpents on the exterior.
The chief and his guards led them inside in silence, where the stench of old blood weighed heavy in the air.
Alvara leaned into Boden’s touch as the culprit came into view—a stone altar stained a gruesome red, along with splatters of blood on every wall.
Three large wooden statues oversaw the altar: Kutamir, god of the moon, Luono, god of the forest, and Merikal, god of the sea.
Delmis and her cloak of goose feathers were nowhere to be found.
Hardly a surprise, since she had fractured into the five season goddesses when the humans were created.
They probably knew nothing of her existence.
Boden removed his arm bearing her weight and advanced toward the altar, but Chief Frigar shook his blond head and pointed to Alvara.
“Me?” Oh gods. She was the last person who should take a blood oath with these people. She couldn’t even speak a word of their language.
She couldn’t understand the next words out of Boden’s mouth, but from his aggressive tone, she could safely assume he was arguing with the chief on his decision. Boden tipped his head back toward the ceiling, his shoulders sagging with defeat.
“You made agreement. You take oath,” Sten said. He looked pointedly to the spot next to his ruler, and Alvara had no other option than to comply.
She hobbled forward and whispered to Boden under her breath, “I’ll be fine.” Confident words for someone who was approaching a piece of stone covered in blood from gods knew who.
Chief Frigar produced a plain and rather poorly forged dagger in one hand and placed the other on a large metal ring in the middle of the altar.
He spoke and Boden translated, though each word sounded as though it caused him pain.
“This oath symbolizes the alliance between our people. I, before Kutamir, swear that my people shall not draw first blood unprovoked from the elves and demi-elves that seek sanctuary in our lands. I forfeit our partnership and call upon the goddess Helvati to claim her retribution if this oath is broken.”
Alvara repeated the words in Elvish for her own people while touching the ring, though she wasn’t fond of the added notion of Helvati enacting revenge.
She couldn’t help but hiss as the chief dragged his blade across her hand before doing the same to his.
He pressed their seeping wounds together, and Alvara gagged and pulled her hand away as soon as she was able to.
“Healer,” she choked out as she wiped the mess on her pants, already riddled with holes from the flames the chief’s son had wielded. The very sight of her injury beckoned a new flood of pain, the scalding intensity only rising with each shallow breath.
Boden muttered to the chief, who placed his dagger in Boden’s hand. He hacked at the bottom of his tunic with the blade and tied the material around Alvara’s fresh cut before tugging his arm around her once more and leading her back into the town.
“How are you feeling?” His fingers tightened where they rested on her side.
“Not faded yet.” The words were weak, her voice a wobble as the throbbing in her leg deepened. The combination of the burns and stinging cut to her hand was enough to leave her dragging herself to the healer, who hopefully wasn’t far.
“Boden!” a young boy called out and ran up to them. He spoke excitedly, the human words swimming in Alvara’s head as Boden conversed with him, though his own tone held none of his friend’s joy.
“Who?” She could barely form words through the pain as they parted ways with the boy and headed down a narrow alley. Every step felt like someone had dumped a new pot of boiling water down her skin.
Boden pulled her snug into his side, his voice unusually strained. “One of the demi-elves we saved. He wanted to do what he could to help, so I sent him to speak with the guards about preparing the chief’s halls for sleeping.”
It only served as a sobering reminder of how much they needed to do. It felt insurmountable, a towering peak higher than any in Dalvi.