“
Again,” Chevelle
warned.
The rock was coming for me a second time. I
tried to duck out of the way but the wall was there once more,
blocking me from moving. I cursed as the stone struck the side of
my face.
“
This isn’t fair,” I
complained. It seemed he was holding me in place just to strike
me.
“
It’s the only way, Freya.
This is for your protection.”
“
I highly doubt they will
pummel my face with rocks,” I spat out.
“
No,” he said calmly, “they
will bind you and burn you alive.”
I shivered. A vision of the Grand Council
cloaks circling around me was convincing enough but he
continued.
“
You will not know their
thoughts; you must be ready for any attack.”
I nodded in understanding
but not necessarily in agreement.
There
must be a less painful way
.
The rock was coming at me
again.
Smack!
My
cheek this time. It was like getting slapped repeatedly. The
irritation at it had me itching to burn something. As the volley
continued, I was sure that whenever my anger showed, the rock came
harder, faster, so I tried to control the emotion, or at least hide
it. Eventually, I found the easiest defense was to stop the stone
by blocking it with another object. His magic was more powerful
than mine so I couldn’t counter it and he’d prevented me from
ducking away.
When I was blocking about half the attacks
successfully, he pocketed the stone and progressed with sticks,
water, fire, anything he found on the trail. We were still riding
too fast and I was exhausted from the mental and physical exertion
when he switched to full body attacks. By nightfall I wasn’t able
to fend off anything that came at me and he mercifully stopped the
horses beneath another hollow in the mountain. I was asleep
practically before I slid off my horse.
The next morning I woke to
the sound of rock against rock. I looked around and didn’t see
Chevelle or his horse.
He left me?
I sat up, rubbing my sore legs and all of a sudden
the rock wall of the hollow struck me in the face.
“
Damn it!” I screamed, my
voice a little hoarse from just waking. The wall was coming at me
again.
Smack!
“Okay, okay! Let me up.”
Chevelle’s camouflage dissipated and he stood
looking at me, disappointed.
“
Where’s your horse?” I
smirked, trying to buy some time.
He smiled slyly as I was attacked from
behind, his horse nipping the back of my head and yanking my
hair.
Ugh
.
I swatted it away and then ran my hand over my face, sure it looked
like a rotted pear, mottled with bruising and scratch
marks.
“
Drink this.” Chevelle
offered me a hide flagon and I took it, swallowing a mouthful
before the taste hit me.
“
Gah, that tastes like cat
pee smells.”
He smiled. “It will help with the
healing.”
Why bother?
I wondered. I was sure it would be another day of
bombardment with mountain fixtures… maybe whole trees this
time.
Grrr
… I
thought I saw him trying to hold back a smile as the irritation
flooded my face. He threw me a piece of dried meat and jumped on
his horse.
“
You’d better get started,”
he said, “it’s going to be a long walk.”
As he kicked his heels, I
spun toward the corner where my horse had been. Yes,
had
been. He was galloping
up the mountain now, just over a hundred yards away. I tried to
think quick, keep the anger from slowing me. I pulled Chevelle’s
horse by the tail with my magic, planning to stop or slow him
enough to jump on. A tree branch came from no where and smacked me
flat across the face. His horse whinnied as they rode
away.
“
Why always the face?” I
yelled at his back.
Thwack!
A second branch, this one more like a whip, struck me from
behind. A fierce growl escaped me and I took off, running at full
speed in the direction my horse had gone.
By midday, I was completely spent. I had
caught my horse but the training hadn’t let up. I was too tired to
have any anger left, but I had a sneaking suspicion Chevelle was
enjoying my “lessons.” He stopped by a patch of snow that had
gathered in a rock basin, warming it to water for the horses. He
jumped down from his horse as I melted off the side of mine and
onto a rock, my limbs like molasses. He came to sit across from me
and I flinched, expecting another attack. He smiled.
“
Well, at least you’re
anticipating assault.”
I didn’t have the energy for casual
banter.
He indicated northeast as he spoke. “The
village is a few hours’ ride from here.” He retrieved a pile of
material, more clothes, from his pack and handed it across to me.
“I’ll be back in a few moments.”
I tried to pull myself together as he strode
away. I stood, easing my clothes off, soiled and tattered from the
days of battery. The damage on my bare skin was minimal, I had
imagined much worse as I failed to block so many of the strikes. I
satisfied my ego by giving the cat pee-smelling elixir more credit
than was probably due. I put the new shirt on, soft black leather
and fitted, corseted tight around my waist. Slim, dark wool pants
and tall boots went on next and I wondered at the village we’d be
entering where black was appropriate. I could think of no one at
home who had worn black; I envisioned the dainty blond elves
dancing around in black leather and giggled.
I glanced up and Chevelle
was there, wearing an unfathomable expression. I hurried to finish
lacing my boots and threw the cloak around my shoulders as he
placed my food on the rocks and went to ready the horses. I sat to
eat and he disappeared again. When he returned a moment later, he
took my breath. He had exchanged his worn traveling clothes for
dark gray and black, the laces at his chest loose, a long dark
cloak around his shoulders. I struggled to gather my composure
before he noticed me gaping.
He despises
you
. I worked to unknot my stomach as we
mounted the horses and headed north again.
By late afternoon, our path opened up and we
were looking down on the village, nestled in the rocks of a small
valley. Chevelle stopped on a ridge and I rode up beside him to get
a better view. I would have never called what I was seeing a
village, I couldn’t count the structures from our vantage point but
it must have been ten times the size of home. The buildings were
the gray stone of the mountain, none were trees; there was really
no vegetation at all, no greens, no browns. The entire layout was
dark, gray stones and aged wood that seemed to melt right in to the
blue gray of the mountain. The cloudy mist kept the sun filtered
nicely. I decided it was beautiful.
“
Where are we?” I asked. He
nodded toward my hands as he started down the path. I glanced at my
palms but the map was gone. I was dumbfounded. My skin had returned
to its previous state, no indication whatsoever it had ever been
burned.
Was this our destination?
My gaze shot automatically up to find the village
once more and then I hastily clicked my heels when I realized I was
being left behind.
As we advanced, I could see movement amongst
the elves. There was much activity but it was nothing like home. No
flags of quilts and rugs blowing in the breeze, no bright sunlight
on a rainbow of colors, no dancing. A raucous sound traveled up to
us and Chevelle turned to me and waved a hand, his magic bringing
the hood of my cloak up to cover my head and then his own. At once,
my stomach was a knot again.
We rode into town at a walk; Chevelle was
sitting straight and tall in his saddle but his arm hung casually,
hand resting on his leg. I was more comfortable watching him,
looking for a reaction, than the passing elves. Two men were
walking by in the opposite direction, staring at us. The length of
my cape blew back, exposing the shape of my leg, and they hissed
indecent comments. I gasped, shocked at their lewdness, and my
horse picked up its pace to ride beside Chevelle. Chevelle held up
the first two fingers of his left hand slightly, to still me I
presumed. I guessed we hadn’t ridden more than a quarter of the way
into town before he turned the horses to a medium-sized structure
and stopped before a water and feed trough. He dismounted
effortlessly and pulled me from my horse and into the building in a
few quick steps, closing the door behind us.
It was dark but he waved a hand and several
lanterns around the main room lit, giving it a soft glow. He
indicated the right door on the rear wall. “Your room.”
I dropped my hood and nodded.
“
I have some business to
take care of before we move on.”
Move on? So this wasn’t our destination? Or
he means back to the village…
He continued, apparently not noticing my
perplexed expression as my mind ran through a list of possible
scenarios. “The pouch from the vault, there was a stone in it?”
He wasn’t asking whether
there was a stone but rather asking me to give it to him. I wasn’t
sure if that was what I wanted to do but could come up with no
reason not to. At this point, everything was fog, I was being
tracked by Grand Council, I was completely ignorant of where I was,
and I had apparently lost part of my memories and magic because I
had been bound.
Or was still bound?
I realized he was watching me, waiting for the
stone. I removed the pouch from my pack and untied the
lacing.
As I reached inside, I felt the scroll and
wondered what else was written in the ancient language. I handed
the dark red stone to him. He nodded as he took it from me, not
examining it before slipping it into a pocket. There was a sound at
the door and he placed a hand at my lower back, spinning me and
urging me into my room. I as entered, my door closed just as I
caught a glimpse of deep red coming through the main door.
I tried not to huff at being closed in a
room. I could barely hear Chevelle speaking to his visitor in a
formal tone. “Ruby.”
Ruby?
Before I could stop myself, I was at the door and then the
wall, searching for a way to see in the main room. I found a tiny
crack that allowed me enough of a view to see most of Chevelle’s
back and all of his guest.
Ruby
. She looked to be a little
shorter than me, a little smaller, but seemed larger somehow. I
thought I knew why. Around her petite face, somehow wicked and
shameless while still sweet and adorable, was a mane of deep
crimson hair flowing in curls.
How horrible
a joke, her parents naming her Ruby
.
I stopped myself from
feeling sorry for her as she reached out a hand toward Chevelle.
There was something sinful about her, her hand turned seductively
in the simple task of retrieving the stone from him.
Wait, my stone?
I couldn’t fathom why he
would be giving my family heirloom to this woman. The anger was
threatening to take me. I thought of the ruby again, the pouch from
the vault, and then the map on my palms. The map was gone now, had
disappeared upon reaching this village. And Chevelle was giving
this Ruby
my
ruby.
I shook my head, sure the fog must have been preventing me from
thinking clearly.
She pulled a package from her cape and handed
it to Chevelle, smiling a temptress’ smile. It was about two hands
in size, wrapped in a light brown cloth. He slid it under his cloak
and it disappeared from my view. I couldn’t imagine what she had
given him, but it must have been a trade for my stone. As I peered
fiercely through the gap in the wall, her eyes flicked to me and I
was sure she somehow saw me. I held my breath and jerked around,
away from the hole. I didn’t hear her expose me and my pulse began
to slow.
I wasn’t brave enough to look again and I
couldn’t hear them well enough to gain anything from eavesdropping
so I started to look around my room. It was relatively large and
ornate compared to my old bedroom. There was a bed wide enough for
two, stone framed with dark olive bedding. A side table held a few
trinkets and a decanter set. There was a small wardrobe in the
corner and the east wall held a full length mirror.
I took a few steps forward
to see myself in the mirror. The woman looking back at me was
astounded. I stared in disbelief at my own image. I had seen the
reflection in the water, I had known my hair was dark now, but as I
gazed at the woman in the reflection, clear and undeniable, I could
barely believe my own eyes. The dark black silhouette, her figure
emphasized by fitted clothes, dark cape draped behind her, this
woman, she was breathtaking. I examined her closer, stepping
forward. Her hair was gloss black, slightly windblown. Her
eyes,
my eyes
, were
dark. Still green but gone was the muddy mix. Under my now black
lashes were deep emerald jewels, flecked with the darkest brown.
Chevelle had been right, this did suit me. The image in the mirror
was stunning.
I flushed, embarrassed at
marveling so over my own reflection. As the color flooded my
cheeks, I couldn’t pretend I didn’t like the way it looked, but the
changes were still unnerving. I tried to remember what I looked
like in my oldest memories, to see
before
, attempted to recall my
mother's face.