13. Stories
Stories
F elix left the cabin not long after and hadn’t made it five steps before the boy from before – Leif – fell in step beside him. He turned slightly, narrowing his eyes.
“Where are you going?” Leif asked, a little too eagerly. He was younger, about eighteen maybe, with a face full of freckles, a mop of dark blond hair and an inquisitive expression that suggested he didn’t understand the concept of boundaries.
“For a walk,” Felix said flatly.
“You’re the Aelithar’s guard? What’s your name? How did you end up here?”
Felix glanced up at the sky and sighed. “Don’t you have something to do?”
“I’m doing it. My aunt told me to make your group feel welcome.” He grinned widely.
Felix snorted. Of course she did. “Right.” He proceeded to ignore the boy and walked to the pond at the edge of the village. Leif didn’t get the hint and followed. There was nobody else there, so Felix sat down on an abandoned stool and looked around for flat rocks.
“You didn’t tell me your name. ”
He sighed again. “It’s Felix.”
“Nice to meet you, Felix!” Leif said in a mockingly pleasant tone. “You’re not much of a talker, are you?”
Felix grunted in response and flicked a stone across the water. He’d only managed two skips when he heard the crunch of boots on the ground behind him. His hand drifted to his axe handle. He turned his head a fraction, casting a casual glance over his shoulder.
It was Beorn, the young blond warrior from the hall, standing a few paces away with a disarming grin. “It is a fine day today,” he said, his tone light, as if they were old friends.
Felix glanced sideways at him. “You came here to discuss the weather?”
Leif grinned, his head swivelling from side to side between the two men. Beorn chuckled awkwardly and looked down at his boots. “You’re not very friendly.”
“So I’ve been told.” Felix turned away to face the water, flicking another rock across its surface. Three skips. Progress.
“I was just saying the same thing,” Leif added helpfully.
Beorn was silent. When Felix glanced back, he found Beorn studying him, his pale blue eyes thoughtful.
“What do you want?”
Beorn smiled again, though there was something hesitant about it this time. “The Aelithar – Isolde – is much friendlier than you.”
That was true; she was. He smiled faintly at the memory of starlight and sparks of magic.
“She is your woman? You are… together? With her?”
“What?” Felix nearly dropped the rock in his hand. “No. I’m just her guard.” Leif raised an eyebrow and gave him a sideways glance.
“Oh,” Beorn said. The grin spreading across his face made Felix scoff.
“Don’t get your hopes up.”
“Why not?” Beorn replied with genuine surprise in his voice. “You said she’s not yours? Then she might as well enjoy herself, no? She’s a beautiful woman.”
Felix’s grip tightened on the rock in his hand. He got up and stalked over, eyes narrowed. Beorn tilted his head at him in confusion .
“And you think she’d enjoy herself with a moron like you? She’s not anyone’s property. Say that again and I’ll break your fucking jaw.”
Beorn’s grin faltered. His stance was loose, casual, off balance. Hands in pockets. Unarmed. Na?ve. Back in the pits in Azuill, Beorn would’ve lasted maybe five seconds. Three, if Felix was in a bad mood. He took another step closer. Beorn instinctively recoiled.
But… nobody was going to thank him for picking a fight in this village, Isolde least of all.
And he had no claim on her, regardless. Whether she wanted to entertain the advances of some utter idiot like this guy was her decision to make.
He stopped advancing, giving Beorn a long glare instead.
He wisely took the hint, stammered a vague goodbye to Leif and left.
Behind him, Leif whistled. “Do you threaten to hit people a lot, or only when they show interest in the pretty girls you are guarding?”
Felix whirled on him, hands clenched into fists. “You want to find out?”
“Woah, woah, easy,” Leif said, both palms in the air. “I’m nice! I promise. Don’t hurt me.”
A chuckle escaped Felix before he could help it. He shook his head and tossed the rock into the pond with a plunk, then turned to walk back into the village. Leif joined him once more and picked up the chatter without skipping a beat. “So, you’re from Azuill, right?”
“Yes.”
“Did you grow up there?”
“Yes.”
“What’s your family like?”
Felix snorted. “No idea.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means drop it.”
Leif raised his eyebrows in confusion and did not drop it. “Does it mean you have no family? I only have my sister and aunt here. Mum moved back to her home village when my father passed. Best hunter in the village, he was! Taught me everything I know.”
“Do you share your entire life story with every complete stranger who passes through here, or am I special?”
“You’re special,” Leif said with a wide grin. Felix shook his head.
When he reached the horse paddock, he gripped the wooden rail until his knuckles ached. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to find something to punch or laugh at the absurdity of it all. Leif casually leaned on the fence beside him.
“So, you and the Aelithar…?”
Felix didn’t look at him. “Mind your business.”
“Right then,” Leif said cheerfully, and started whistling.
Felix stared out over the paddock. Even though he had no claim on her, some swaggering fool thinking Isolde was fair game made his blood boil.
He had no right to feel this way, no right at all, but that didn’t seem to make any difference.
She wasn’t his, but hells take the next idiot who thought she was available.
***
When he got back to the cabin, Leif still on his heels like an overeager puppy, Felix nearly collided with Isolde.
“Sorry,” he muttered, glancing away.
“Oh, Felix…” she said, startled. “I was just going to see the elder. Hello, Leif.”
“Hi!” Leif chirped, apparently delighted to be acknowledged.
“Alone?” Felix asked, frowning. “I’ll come with you.”
She opened her mouth as if to argue, but nodded instead and swept past him. Felix turned and followed her to the large wooden hall. Of course, Leif fell into step beside them without waiting for an invitation.
Inside, the elder sat at a long table, her gnarled hands tying bundles of herbs together. Across from her, Leif’s sister Asara was sorting through a pile of dried leaves. The earthy aroma mingled with the faint scent of smoke from a small brazier nearby .
“Ah, here she is,” the old woman said. “Come, sit. Help me with these. We will need them for the gathering of the fires tonight.” She beckoned them over to the table and handed Isolde a bundle. “Tie them off with the string, like these others.”
Isolde took the herbs gingerly, setting to work. Felix hesitated, but sat down and picked up some of the plants as well. Asara caught his eye and smiled. Leif flopped into a seat next to them.
“You too, Leif,” Asara said, eyes narrowed. Leif sighed, then grabbed a few stray sprigs.
“The gathering of the fires?” Isolde asked, curiosity and hunger for knowledge plain on her face.
“It is a celebration of the end of summer,” the elder said. “A torch is brought from each of our homes, and we light a bonfire and tell stories. The herbs give off a pleasant smell. You have arrived at a very fortuitous time; it is lucky to have visitors at the gathering of the fires.”
“That sounds wonderful,” Isolde said with a sigh. “Will there be many stories?”
The elder smiled. “Oh yes. But there is one story, about one just like you, that I will share with you now. It was passed down from elder to elder for as long as memory recalls. It begins, as many stories do, with a mysterious guest.”
“Wait,” Leif interrupted, “aren’t you supposed to say ‘once, long ago, when the stars were young and the rivers sang’?”
The elder shook her head but smiled fondly. “Must you correct me every time I tell this tale?”
“It sets the mood!” Leif insisted.
“Fine,” she said, mock-weary. “Once, long ago, when the stars were young, and the rivers sang, a mysterious guest came to the city of Taerrok.”
Felix looked at Isolde. She was listening to the old woman with rapt attention, as if she hoped everything would be clear now. He felt a pang of sympathy for her, for her desperate desire for answers.
The elder wove her tale, speaking of the ancient Crovan city. “... until one day a terrible illness swept through, leaving many dead and more dying. Just as the people prepared to abandon the city, a man walked in – an Aelithar, flanked by his guardian. ”
“I always found it hard to believe they didn’t even ask his name or anything,” Leif whispered to Felix. “But I suppose it adds to the mystery.” Felix made a noncommittal noise.
The elder, unperturbed by the interruption, continued, speaking of the people’s hesitation and fear towards the Aelithar.
“He asked to see the sick. The people, afraid yet desperate, let him. He laid a hand on a dying child and brought him back from the brink. The Aelithar made his way through the city, healing as he went. When asked what he wanted in return, he only requested help to any who might come after him. So that is what our people swore.”
“That is a fascinating tale,” Isolde said, a note of uncertainty in her voice. “I don’t think I possess such extraordinary power…”
“My dear,” the elder said, “it is an ancient story. Who can say how much of it is true? But the oath remains, no matter what it was once based on. We are sworn to help you, so help you we will. You are welcome here for as long as you wish to stay, and our stores are open to you.”
“I… thank you,” Isolde said. “Is there any more to the story? Do you know anything about the Nexus?”
The elder’s gaze was distant. “Not much. The Aelithar came to us a few more times in the centuries that followed. But as the mage circles rose in power, the Aelithar disappeared. We know the people of the cities – wielders of magic – grew fearful of them. The lands around what you call the Nexus fell into ruin many generations ago, and our people travelled south because of it. We know the mage circles have any Aelithar they find killed.” At this, she looked pointedly at Isolde.
“You told me you are from Azuill. Their circle is powerful. How is it you yet live?”
Isolde’s gaze dropped to her hands, fidgeting with the herbs. “My father is powerful, too. The mages did not want to anger him, so they said I might be cured if I travel to the Nexus…” Her voice faltered, her brow furrowing. “But now… now that I think about it, that doesn’t make much sense.”
The old woman scoffed. “Pah! Cured! Your power is a gift. Why would this mage suggest such a thing?”
“I don’t know,” Isolde sighed. “I had hoped perhaps you did. ”
“I wish I did, too, my dear,” the elder said, patting Isolde’s hand.
After a pause she continued, “and your father sent you into the wilderness, just like that? With unstable new powers and a mere three companions? No caravan, no honour guard? And once you arrive at this Nexus, how is this cure supposed to take place? Did these mages tell you what to do?”
Felix raised his eyebrows; the old lady was a sharp one. He had never laid it all out like this, too preoccupied with the journey to think much about the goal. Across the table, Leif and Asara were looking on with rapt attention.
Isolde stared at the elder, her hands shaking. Blue light gathered around her, her markings glowing. “I… My father wouldn’t…”
“Isa,” Felix said, trying to keep his voice calm, “it’s alright. Take a breath.”
She spun to face him. “It is not alright! How could I be such a fool?!” She slammed her hand flat on the tabletop in frustration.
She did not mean to, Felix was sure, but a shockwave of power burst outward from the impact.
The herbs scattered all over the room. Felix grabbed onto the bench for support, as did Asara.
The elder fell backwards and collided heavily with another table. Isolde hurried over to her.
“Oh goodness, oh no, I am so sorry!” she cried, her hands hovering uselessly as Asara helped the old woman to her feet.
Leif peeked out from under the table, his eyes huge.
“Well,” the old woman said, flustered, “I do not believe I asked for a demonstration, but thank you all the same, my dear. No, no, it is quite alright,” she waved Isolde’s apologies away. “I know you did not intend to. We cannot always control our feelings. There is no harm done.”
Isolde stepped back, her fingers twisting together, her expression a mixture of guilt and worry.
“Let me take you to rest,” Asara said, with a disapproving glance at Isolde. “We can continue speaking with our guests later.”
The elder shook her head. “Don’t coddle me, Asara dear. Why don’t you and Leif take these baskets to the bonfires? And take this one – what was your name - Felix? – with you as well. ”
Asara and Felix both spoke up, protesting, but the elder held up a hand. “I assure you, we will be fine. Sometimes too many people in the room make it a little hard to breathe.”
Felix met Isolde’s eyes, and she gave him a small nod and a pleading look. Asara and Leif stood and waited for him, so he reluctantly followed them outside.
“That was magic!” Leif blurted out. “Real magic!”
“It sure was,” Felix answered, staring at the door Asara closed behind them.
“Come, Skraeling,” she said as she brushed past him. “Put those nice arms to use; there’s plenty of work to do.” She winked, then walked off. Leif mumbled something under his breath, then looked at Felix. “You coming?”