Chapter 8 #2
“You’ll need weapons out here and only magic can fight magic.
If we run into anyone who has a seidr blade, you’ll need something that can stand against one.
When we reach Ricaboro you can buy more steel weapons, but for now, take this.
” He brushed past her like what he’d given her had been a generous gift.
Orelia studied the hideous blade in her hand.
He’d pulled it on her when they’d first met, and she must have been in too much shock then to notice it was seidr-made.
Though she knew she’d never spill blood with it, Orelia placed it next to her small knife on her belt.
After taking a few moments to compose herself, she realized what he’d said.
“Wait—Ricaboro? I thought we were going to Dallton?”
“We were, but I got another name just before we got here, so we’re making a detour. Dallton has a fair selection of supplies, but you’re going to need a few more things if we’re going to make it all the way to Dorsey, so we’re stopping in Ricaboro. Two dragons, one stone.”
Vultures had begun to circle, dark spots in the sky against a bright afternoon sun. Vade returned to his whistling, a jarring sound to accompany the senseless massacre that had just occurred.
She couldn’t fathom having to watch him do this for the duration of their time together. He didn’t just kill people revealed on the stone, he killed anyone who was a slight annoyance or an unfortunate inconvenience.
Though the blood was on his hands, her heart was the one left stained. She could have saved the Arbor if Vade hadn’t gotten in her way. It was her job to help others. She knew she wouldn’t have had enough time to heal all three, but she could have helped one.
One was still an important number. One mattered. One person could make a difference in the world.
Orelia gave one last teary-eyed look at the lifeless bodies and the vultures picking at their bloody flesh, wondering if the sight would haunt her nightmares, or if the real nightmare was the man walking away from her.
A few marks later, they stopped for lunch.
Orelia’s stomach had settled enough to enjoy a crisp apple.
In the shadow of a tree, the fruit gleamed a pure white, but when the branches went with the wind and the sun caught the apple, it turned holographic.
The sight had never stopped being mesmerizing as Orelia turned the apple over, admiring the rainbow of colors.
She bit into her second one, revealing a ripe, dark purple interior dripping with sweet juices.
They’d stumbled upon a small orchard of the only trees to produce in spring, and it seemed as good a place as any to stop for lunch.
She hadn’t wanted to speak to Vade since the incident with the Arbors, and he’d been content to eat his dried venison in peace.
They were just about to head out when a strained croak came from the tree next to her.
In a tuft of grass, barely the size of her pinky finger, sat a red frog with blue legs. Its right hind leg was extended further than the others, and when she reached for it, the frog dragged its lengthened leg as it tried to crawl away from her.
“Oh no, little guy, you’re hurt. Here. Let me get something for you.”
She dug through her pack and pulled out an empty jar that normally held flour back home. “Vade said I wouldn’t need this, but we’ll show him.”
The fae was too busy counting the money from the purses he’d taken off the Arbors to hear her.
Orelia gathered moss, grass, a few rocks, and a stick to make a home for the frog. Keeping the jar horizontal, she arranged the items inside, putting a thick pile of moss near the back for the frog to hide in. After poking a few holes in the leather cap with her knife, Orelia searched for the frog.
The tiny splotch of red had only made it two feet. She gently scooped him up, making a cage of her hands, careful not to squish its injured leg.
Orelia gently set the frog inside the jar as Vade approached.
“What in the hells do you think you’re doing?” he asked.
She screwed on the lid as the frog burrowed in the moss. “He has a hurt leg, so I’m putting him in here.”
Vade raked a hand through his hair, disrupting the loose knot. “Oh, fuck.”
“What?”
“That frog is poisonous. Don’t touch anything.” He rifled through his pack, pulling out cookware, the bag of dried venison, his whetstone, and other items.
Orelia chuckled. For once, she knew something he didn’t.
“Why are you laughing? You just touched a poisonous frog!” Vade’s brows were up to his forehead.
She was thoroughly enjoying the sight of him scrambling as he pulled out a leather pouch.
“I have a vial of something in my medicine bag that should get your hands clean.” He dumped out the contents—multiple vials of sana, bandages, needles and thread, a few vials of clear liquid of some sort, and more bandages.
“Vade.”
“It’s in here somewhere . . .”
“Vade.”
His eyes snapped to hers. “What?”
“This frog isn’t poisonous. It doesn’t have the black dots on its back.” She held up the jar. “See.”
He peered into the glass, and the frog poked its head out of the moss like it was trying to prove her point.
He frowned. “That’s a strabbe. It has the same coloring on its legs and body.”
“This is a berr frog. Easily confused with the strabbe, but the ones that don’t have the black spots are okay to touch. See? I’m all right.” She turned her hands over, showing him both sides.
Vade grunted, which she’d come to learn either meant fine or fuck off in his grumpy fae language. “Why are you putting it in a jar?” he asked as he put the medicines back in the pouch.
“Bute.”
“What?”
“I’ve decided to name him Bute. So, the better question is, ‘Why are you putting Bute in a jar?’” She grinned. Proud of herself for outsmarting him.
Vade looked at her like she was insane. “What in the hells kind of name is Bute? And why are you even bothering to name it?”
“It’s a cute name. And his leg is hurt, so I’m going to keep him until he heals.” Unfortunately, only druids could heal animals, the only downside to her personal healing abilities.
Vade barked a laugh. “You’re not serious.”
“He’s injured and he’ll get eaten if I don’t help him, so I’m bringing him with us.”
He sighed while fixing the mess he’d made of his hair in his panic. “Of course you are.”
When everything was back in his pack, Vade slung it over his shoulder and trekked into the woods. She pulled out her chipped and faded dragon daydial and looked to where the line of shadow fell. Two marks ’til.
She donned her pack and trailed after Vade, carrying the jar as steadily as she could. At least now she had a cute frog for company and not just the fae currently grumbling complaints to himself.
“Don’t worry, little guy,” Orelia said, smiling.
Bute peered up at her, blinking his big black eyes.
“I’ll take care of you and make you whole again.”