Alkara stares into the fire, holding a glass of wine. She feels warm. Too warm. Might be the wine. And the fire. She’s pretty close to it.
“What happened next?” A familiar voice asks behind her.
She turns to Tharan, sitting back in his chair. His eyes twinkle with a true smile on his face, despite the twisted reflection in his swirling wine.
Alkara flashes a smile back, but then furrows her brow. Had she been telling a story? She must have been. She’s been telling stories all night. But… which one is she telling? “What happened… what happened next?”
Tharan cocks his head, elegant eyebrows wrinkling with concern. True concern. Not the saccharin show of concern she’d so often seen in Afanen. That’s odd. “Yes. After Sengmar used the string soaked in one of Dreonna’s concoctions to cast his spell…” Tharan’s brow furrows farther, “Miss Alkara, are you alright?”
Alkara tries to smile again but sways a bit, “How many times do I have to tell you? It’s just Alkara.” She says, suddenly feeling breathless. “And I’m fine… I think. Maybe too much wine. Now where was I…”
Tharan watches her warily as she begins to cross the room to one of the couches. “You have only had the one glass. Perhaps something in the food?”
Alkara scoffs as she tries to dismiss the notion but then stumbles, her glass smashing to the ground. She gasps and flinches away as his arms wrap around her, but he holds her firmly. He calls for Dre.
“Dre? Dre’s not… here.” Alkara mumbles, confused, now feeling feverish.
“I’m here, Alkara.” Dre says. “Please don’t smash this one. I need you to drink it. Please. It’s my last one.”
Alkara struggles as Dre puts a cup to her lips. “No.” She tries to break free from Tharan’s grasp. “What the…? Let go of me! Who do you think you are?”
But the arms hold her in place. “Please, Alkara. You must calm down.” She hears him begin chanting and she feels her limbs grow heavy.
“Dre!” Another voice, Chiron’s voice. “She’s stopped moving.”
“Shit. Quickly then. See if you can get this down her throat.”
The cold liquid that burns its way down her throat is unlike anything Alkara has ever had to drink. She chokes and sputters, but still can’t move. After a while a blissful darkness takes her and she knows no more.
Someone knocks. Chiron answers the door.
“For Iroshi.” A familiar male voice says. Musty damp dirt filters in with the patter of rain.
A pause.
Alkara blinks against the grey light from outside. How much time had passed? Chiron takes a sack with a jangle. Chiron’s hard stare hangs on the visitor. He purses his lips. With a curt nod he closes the door.
“Who was that?” Alkara mumbles, a line of saliva streams from her lip to her covers.
Chiron glances at Alkara. He furrows his brow and clenches his jaw. He shrugs with a shake of his head, “Just Vayni. He brought some money,” Chiron lifts the sack. It bulges with coin. “Probably just some money he owes Uncle Iro. I’ll stash it.” He turns toward the back room but pauses before entering. “Go back to sleep.”
Alkara raises a hand to shield her eyes from the light steaming in from the windows. The sides of her head pound. She hadn’t had much wine… or ale? Whatever it was. Not for it to hurt this bad into the afternoon. Eryl’s face swims up to her consciousness… and then. Alkara groans and rolls over.
Chiron’s right.
Alkara squeezes her eyes shut, willing the throbbing in her head to subside. Pinpricks of light dot the insides of her eyelids. She pulls her covers over her head and drifts into darkness.
****
Eryl.
Alkara sighs hard. She pushes her back further into the grass of their favorite spot near the Retreivers’ Guild Hall. The mid-day sun beats down on her, Chiron, and Dre, only halted by the leaves and small budding clusters of apples above them.
The small field’s wall stands with patches around the field. Farms lay beyond, but here is a greensward standing between it and the ugly patchwork city of Three Rivers. A few berries cling to the bushes dotting the field, likely soured beyond use or nibbled on by foxes or skunks. Fishflies buzz through the air, alighting on flowers or blades of grass.
No. Not Eryl. Ven. Whoever that is. Looking for… what?
No. Not whatever. He had responded to Ven and whoever that is was looking for… what? Alkara grimaces and steals a sidelong glance at Chiron and Dre. They must think she’s weak, being brought home on death’s door. Naked. In some stranger’s arms.
Alkara turns to her side and pulls her knees to her chest, putting her back to the duo. A tremble surges through her torso and lodges in her throat. She forces down a mouthful of spit that had soused her mouth.
Flashes of that night throw themselves at her randomly. And every time— She should have been careful. Attentive. Eryl wasn’t what she thought. She should have known. He’d said he loved her. And she’d fallen for it.
Stupid. Why would anyone say they loved her? Of course he was lying.
Her mood sinks further.
She should be dead. Why hadn’t he killed her? Or had one of those men do it?
Her throat constricts. Or worse. Men like that get… ideas about what they can do besides their orders. Especially alone at night with a woman. And if they hadn’t wanted that, what could they have wanted?
Alkara puts her face into the seam of her knees. Her pink, scrubbed hands complain. She brushes the sensation aside. Her hands feel wrong. Dirty like her legs and chest. Even her hair. Thoughts of shaving her scalp balloon inside her. She needs to bathe again. This would be the second time today, and at least a score over the last fortnight.
She squeezes her eyes tight and a tiny tear drips onto her nose. It wouldn’t matter. With all the scrubbing and washing and even one of Dre’s oils that burns more than the hot water, she never feels clean. Or safe. Alkara snaps her eyes open and finds Guen lazing in the sun nearby. She looks over her shoulder to Dre and Chiron.
What is wrong with me? They’re all here. I’m safe here. With them.
Right?
But though her breathing slows, she still can’t shake this feeling that they’re in danger. Ven is out there. And whatever else that might come for her.
The only time she feels secure is when she meditates on and connects with Urdima. Which is why she insists on coming here, even though it’s a little out of the way It’s closer to Urdima and the best place without leaving Three Rivers entirely.
One day she’ll learn to connect as Uncle Iro does. The city doesn’t bother him. For Alkara, the city clouds and distorts her connection. It acts as a barrier, keeping her from fully appreciating all Urdima gives and offers.
Alkara takes a deep breath as she sits up, preparing to commune. But Chiron’s hair catches her attention. “Hey Chiron, why’d you start wearing your hair all fuzzy again?” She gestures to Chiron’s head, “Aren’t the braids more practical? Less to grab on to or yank?”
Chiron shoves the last piece of chicken into his mouth and grins, “A pretty lady said she liked it better this way.” He sucks the chicken grease from his fingers and shrugs, “And if that’s what the ladies like…” He trails off, still smiling.
Alkara snorts, “Chiron, you’ve never once looked at pretty ladies like that. Not once.” She accents the statement with a single finger pointed skyward. She huffs, “I wondered if they were even your preference.”
Chiron laughs, spraying bits of chicken into the air. He starts to speak but stops as a muscular elven woman approaches from the greensward’s hillock.
The woman’s bronze skin and red hair mark her as Miësin, one of the taller elven races. “Waste Walkers! It’s been too long.” She grins to each in turn.
Alkara shrinks from the elf’s approach, squinting at the newcomer’s face. Her voice sounds familiar, but the sunlight dazzles Alkara’s ability to discern the woman’s face until she’s under the apple tree’s shade.
“Oonagh!” Alkara’s shoulders loosen. One of Uncle Iro’s friends, a fierce defender of the Miësin clan. She breathes out a held breath. “What are you doing here?”
“Iroshi sent me with a message.” Her eyes flicker past Alkara’s shoulder. She frowns and refocuses on Alkara.
Alkara’s skin tingles. Something’s wrong. She hops to her feet, “What is it?” She spares a glance at Dre and Chiron, but they seem more curious than anything. “Is Uncle Iro okay? Is he hurt?” Alkara’s brow creases and her eyes plead with the Miësin.
Oonagh smirks, “He’s fine.” She tilts her head, gives Alkara and incredulous look, and shakes her head a little, “Here.” The Miësin holds out a rolled parchment.
Alkara snatches it up. The parchment’s canvas lay barren save for a few short sentences:
Still on the trail. Hit a snag. Seven dark elves. Likely a mage. Should be fine. Don’t come after me. That means you Alkara.
The parchment trembles, shaken by her hands.
Dark elves… but there aren’t any in Westbriar. Alkara sucks in a breath. Her eyes widen. He isn’t in—
“There’s a PTO. What does it say?” Chiron points at the back of the parchement.
A quick turn and Alkara reads the message, “I’m serious Alkara. Stay away.”
Chiron snorts. “Taking seven dark elves, one a mage, without his rapier? I’d like to see–“
“Without his WHAT?!” Alkara whirls on Chiron. Her breath comes ragged, shallow.
Chiron takes a step back, holding his hands up. “Uncle Iro’s rapier is uh…” he glances at Oonagh. “It’s at home. Hidden.”
Alkara grinds her teeth, “And you didn’t think to say anything?!”
Dre puts a hand on Alkara’s arm, “Alkara, calm down.”
Alkara jerks away. “Don’t tell me to–” Her face blanks with realization. “The posters. The posters have all come down.” She looks at Chiron accusingly. “How much money was in that bag from Uncle Iro’s friend?”
Chiron holds her gaze steadily, “I didn’t count it. Maybe a few hundred gold crowns judging by the weight. It could have been anyth-“
“You knew,” Alkara spits bitterly. “You’ve known all this time. It’s been two weeks!” Alkara whirls on Oonagh, “Take me to him.”
“No!” A quiet, masculine cry breaks the tension. The man is elven with blue-hued skin. His cheekbones are soft, not the usual sharp, highboned features of the elves.
Oonagh draws a dagger and steps forward. “Good. We can do this now instead of later.”
Alkara looks between Oonagh and the plainly dressed Doesin man with confusion. “What?”
“He’s been listening in. You’re not very observant.” Oonagh growls.
Alkara whips her face toward the man to glare at him. “What do you want?”
He holds his hands up, “I bear you no ill will. Only another message.” His Pretton is heavily accented.
“From who?” Oonagh barks.
The man shakes his head, “I cannot say.”
Alkara steps forward menacingly, drawing her own dagger. “What message?”
The man grows a little more pale. “Please. I am unarmed–“
“Spit it out!” Alkara yells in his face.
“You must not pursue Iroshi.” The man speaks quickly. “It is a trap.” He looks up tentatively. “That is all.”
Oonagh purses her lips, sheathes her dagger, then crosses her arms. “There you have it. Must be why he said not to come after him.”
Alkara crumples the paper in her hands and glares between Oonagh and the Doesin man. “I’m not leaving my Uncle alone and unarmed to face a squad of dark elves all by himself. I will find him, with or without your help.”
Oonagh sighs tiredly, “Then it’ll be without. Trust your Uncle, Alkara. He knows what he’s doing.”
“She’s right, Alkara.” Chiron says gently. “Seven dark elves probably means he’s in the Depths. He knows it way better than we do. Going down there would probably just make things worse. Especially if it’s a trap. And he probably has his own plan.”
Alkara stares at the three of them, mouth agape. “I can’t believe I’m hearing this.” She shakes her head, her breath short and shallow, “Uncle Iro has been captured and taken to the Depths because of me and you expect me to just sit around and wait??”
Chiron’s face hardens and he crosses his arms, “I expect you to use your head. And trust him. Like Oonagh said.”
Alkara stares at Chiron, her lips pressed into a thin line. “Come on Guen!” She gestures and stalks off toward the house.
Looks like I’m on my own. Again.
She clenches her jaw. Furious at the tears pricking her eyes and the feeling of betrayal slicing through her chest. It’s better this way. She’s done it before. Less to worry about. The supplies she used to hunt down the brain thief should work well enough. And maybe she can squeeze some information out of… out of… oh hell. She’ll find someone!
She looks behind her to see if she’s being followed. Her chest tightens and the knife digs deeper. No sign of Chiron or Dre.
Whatever.
They can do what they’re told. Leave Uncle Iro to die. But Alkara has to help. She can’t just leave him down there. Not when she can do something. If she can do something to help then she should. Right?
She sighs, the boiling in her chest settling into something heavier. At least she doesn’t have to worry about keeping Chiron and Dre safe.
Alkara throws open the front door to their home and stalks inside. She heads straight for Uncle Iro’s room to find his rapier. It doesn’t take long. He hadn’t even bothered to hide it well. The belt stretches as Alkara tries to buckle it around her waist. She loosens the loops. A lot. And is finally able to secure it.
And now for the supplies. Ropes, torches, rations, water, and anything else she can think of makes its way into a small pile. Alkara grabs a few and turns to go into the living room.
She jumps when she sees Chiron standing there, leaning on the doorframe, frowning at her.
Alkara looks at Chiron’s chest. “Get out of my way, Chiron.”
Chiron doesn’t move. He doesn’t say anything. He just stares.
Tears prick Alkara’s eyes. “I said get out of my way.” She sniffs, “I can’t just sit around and do nothing. You said you wanted to have some fun.” Her voice rises with each word, “You should be helping me! Well here’s your chance. Take it or leave it.”
Still nothing.
Alkara swipes at the tears falling down her cheeks. She scrunches her face up, “Fine.” She lowers her shoulder to push past Chiron. She doesn’t bother putting much strength into the gesture. If Chiron wants to stop her, she can’t do anything about it. She tightens, ready to hit the wall that Chiron could be.
And steps through him. She stumbles but catches herself before falling to the ground. The Chiron in the doorway hasn’t moved. He’s still staring into the room, leaning against the doorway.
“Tch tch. When will you learn?” Chiron calls from his cot.
Alkara whirls and glares at him. She looks around, finds a book, and tosses it at him. It, too, seems to pass right through him. The Chiron on the cot grins. “Better.”
Alkara scowls. “I don’t have time for this. I’m leaving.” She turns and runs face first into Chiron. What must be the real Chiron, since she doesn’t just pass through him. She growls, “Damn you Chiron, get out of my way!”
“Got them!” Dre says, suddenly bursting through the doorway. She looks past Chiron at Alkara with relief. “Good. You’re still here. I needed to stop by Ileta’s for some ingredients. Did you grab Uncle’s tent?”
Alkara blinks at Dre in surprise, then blinks at Chiron. “I… yes.”
Dre nods, “Good. We’ll need it. Chiron is that you?” She says as she pokes Chiron in the back. “Yes. Were you able to talk to Sage?”
Chiron snorts, “No one talks to Sage. But maybe one of her lieutenants knows what happened. Mom said to come back before we left.”
Alkara tries to blink back the tears of relief. “You’re… you’re coming with me?”
“Told you didn’t I?” Chiron says as he claps her on the shoulder. “You keep hogging all the fun. But if you ruin Uncle Iro’s plan, the pig stays in your room.”
Alkara blinks in surprise and bursts into laughter. As it subsides she finally nods. “Deal.”