Alkara approaches the glade with quick strides. Guen keeps up easily enough. A field of blue-petaled flowers reach toward the sun. Moss-covered stones dot the perimeter. Butterflies flit from bud to bud while birds chirp in the background. Early morning light licks at blades of grass.
The meeting isn’t till midday, but Alkara arrives early. She surveys the glade at a glance before settling against the solitary tree-trunk in the middle of the glade and twiddling her thumbs. Gnarled claw-like limbs curl down from the tree’s branches. The petrified treant’s face still twists in agony. Alkara sits on the opposite side.
Minutes crawl by. She entertains Guen with a small recoil ball. Its whir scares away the nearby critters as it spins with an awkward path through the air. But no more than Guen does as she crashes through the flowers and patches of grass trying to snatch it from the sky.
The panther plucks it from the air with one mighty leap. She carries it back to Alkara and drops it onto the dirt, looking up expectantly. Alkara smiles, “In a bit. Time to rest.”
Guen yowls in a tired manner. She flops onto the ground and paws at the ball. The recoil ball spins away and then hops into the air before turning back toward Guen’s waiting paw.
Alkara watches the butterflies alight on different petals, feeling like her stomach must be full to the brim with blooming flowers itself. She bides time snacking on chunks of dried meat.
Shadows shorten with the rising sun, drawing the meeting ever closer. Her thoughts return time and again to Tharan’s eventual appearance. Every rustle, twig snap, and bird flight draws her attention. With each her lifebeat quickens.
Alkara closes her eyes and lays down in the grass, soaking in the warmth. Guen’s wet nose brings her back as the cat nuzzles her hand. Alkara smirks at the panther and tosses a chunk of meat to her.
Guen wolfs the morsel down and Alkara strokes the cat’s coat. Focusing on her companion slows her lifebeat and helps keep the distractions at bay.
Any minute now…
More minutes drift past, stretching into hours in Alkara’s mind. A flight of birds Sozzleward take flight. More than coincidence. She sits up and scans the treeline. A clink of metal greets her ears.
Those paladins aren’t exactly quiet are they?
Alkara quirks her mouth until it’s a full frown. They’re not going to come into the glade with Tharan, are they?
Kav I hope not.
Alkara’s chest tightens. Gooseflesh prickles across the back of her hands and neck. She swallows and sits up, tidying her hair. She plucks blades of grass from the braid and then straightens her clothes. But then she freezes, catching herself, and furiously runs her hands through her hair and clothes trying to mess everything back up again. Fire floods into her cheeks and ears.
Tharan steps into the glade. Alone. Alkara tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and drops her hands. Tharan’s liesured pace provides ample time for Alkara to reconsider her request.
I should leave. Now. He can’t catch me. No. I should never have even sent the dumb letter! Maybe if I sic Guen on him–
A solitary figure stands behind Tharan, watching in gleaming mail. Tears well up in her eyes. She takes a deep breath and lets it out in a slow, steady stream. How does she normally sit? Should she lay down? Should she stand? What should she do with her hands? She wipes her hands on her breeches and titters.
What is the matter with me?
Tharan’s soft smile meets her awkward grin. He steps under the treant’s bough and nods to Guen before stepping closer. “May I join you?”
Alkara drops her gaze down and pats the grass next to her. Her stomach lurches. Maybe the meat was a bad idea. Fortunately the panther does the heavy lifting for Alkara and rubs against Tharan’s leg.
Alkara chuckles with a quaver in her voice. The Forge Master crouches and hugs Guen. Alkara bites the inside of her cheek as something in her gut aches.
How can I be jealous of a panther?
Still the feeling subsides into a light, warm tingling through her body. That spike of envy burns away under the joy of seeing the two greet each other.
Alkara shakes her head on Guen’s return. The panther pads over and plops onto Alkara’s legs. The cat looks up at her and after a moment winks. Alkara tilts her head at the panther and creases her brow.
The bands around Alkara’s chest seem to tighten further. What if Uncle Iro is wrong? What if Tharan isn’t here to confess some hidden attraction? It’s a ridiculous idea anyway. Alkara draws her brow together and frowns. She concentrates on petting Guen.
Who in their right mind would fall in love with me anyway? Ven only said it to trick me… but Tharan wouldn’t do that. I think. But that doesn’t mean he loves me.
Just get it over with.
Tharan sets down a basket and nestles into a nook next to Alkara’s. “Are you familiar with the glade’s–”
“Is it true?” The words spill out from Alkara in a tumble. Her throat dries up and she pushes herself into the tree’s trunk.
Tharan raises his eyebrows but otherwise expresses nothing but calm. “Is what true?”
Alkara meets Tharan’s eye for a moment and looks away.
I can’t do this. He’ll laugh at me. This is ridiculous.
She takes one unsteady breath.
But Uncle Iro…
“Uncle Iro says you’re in love with me.” Alkara vomits the words out. Her stare bores holes into the soft grasses while she braces herself for the denial. Or worse: the look of pity.
Anticipatory silence falls over them like that little moment before thunder booms. But no blast comes. Alkara tenses. Any moment and the quiet would be shattered. She spies Tharan from the corner of her eye then twists her head to look. Her skin tingles and that ticklish butterfly feeling flutters in her stomach.
Purple stains Tharan’s cheeks, a red flush mixing with the blue-hued skin. He stares at his legs as though only just now realizing he has them. His lips part a moment before he furrows his brow and closes his mouth. And just as Alkara had gawked at the grass just moments before, Tharan ogles the tree-line. Even his ears flare purple! Alkara can’t look away. Each moment she discovers some new feature in his expression.
Tharan’s chin dips down and his stare snaps off from the tree-line. He looks to the side before bringing his eyes up to meet Alkara’s. He hesitates a moment before saying, “Alkara, I…”
It’s as though someone placed a burning brand on Alkara’s neck. She looks away. Struggling to accept the softness around his eyes, Alkara casts about for something to say.
This is crazy. Uncle Iro was right! How did he do that?!
Tharan sighs. His clothes rustle on the grass as he shifts position. “Forgive my silence, Alkara. I am at a loss. Unusual for me but true all the same. I am not one who struggles to find words. Except when it comes to you. When I need them most.” He clears his throat. “These emotions are new. In what must seem an impossibly long life to you I have never felt this way. About anyone. Not even…” He shakes his head and sighs. “I am given to understand that yes, this is love.”
Breath wooshes out of Alkara. She hadn’t even realized she’d been holding it. She blinks and shakes her head. “Are you crazy?” Her cheeks tighten. Her voice raises in both speed and pitch. “I’m… no one. A nobody. Some random mercenary. Not even an elf!”
Tharan holds up a hand. After Alkara stops he splays his fingers and points to the first. “Not random. Not even a nobody, if that held any bearing. You hunted and killed a Gadäich Rachinn after it murdered your brother. This despite the sabotage of your initial plan.” He points to the next finger, “You are involved in guild work but disrupt the political machinations.” Third finger. “You are the only one who sees me as another person and not a superior. No one else treats me as an equal.” Tharan chuckles and says, “Aside from your uncle.” He indicates the last finger. “And… the only person to whose tales I could listen… all night…” His voice softens. “You are, in a word… remarkable.”
Alkara searches for a reply. Nothing comes. She wants to say something. But her chin quivers as her mind blanks, forgetting every word she’s ever uttered.
Tharan swallows and continues, each word feels like its being dragged out of him. “If… if you do not return these affections–”
Alkara shakes her head. “It’s not that…” She stares at her feet. “Uncle Iro… seems to think I am…” Alkara stumbles with her thoughts, speaking whichever words jump up from her mind. “I mean, that I do… I mean he… says I do return the affection.” An ache grips her chest. Alkara frowns but quickly smiles through the pain at Tharan’s reaction. “But he said to be sure that it… that you… were worth it.” She fidgets with Guen’s ribbon collar. “Your clan will… be angry and… try to separate us… try to convince us that this…” She gestures between the two of them. “That we… are a bad idea.” Alkara looks at Tharan, unsure what expression she hopes to see.
Now sitting straight, Tharan sets his mouth in a grim line. “Iroshi is correct. Our courtship will upset many of my clansmen. Doësin in high positions and so-called ‘commoners’ alike.” He closes his fist and brings it to his chin, resting his head against it as he furrows his brow. “If you were to conclude that you would like to be with me, the furor will be extraordinary.” He falters, “If… if you… decide that.”
Alkara smiles a little at the lame finish. She smacks his shoulder with a grin. “You know, you’re kind of adorable when you can’t talk.”
Tharan looks at her anew, flinching from the compliment before raising his eyebrows. His smile stiffens until a laugh cracks the expression. That purplish flush returns to his cheeks.
Alkara grins. She basks in his expression, soaking it in. Every gradient of blue-purple in his skin opens to her. This close to him, it’s as though she’d never really seen him, but now she explores the contours of his face without pause.
Tharan’s laughter subsides. Alkara returns to her thoughts and her smile fades a little. “I don’t want to play their games.”
Tharan shakes his head. “Then don’t.” His brow hardens. “You may be confronted with the opportunity, but I do not and would not ask you to engage. Instead…” Tharan contemplates the twisted, leafy branches of their shade. His brow furrows and he quirks the corner of his mouth. “I want you by my side, Alkara. That is… all I ask.” He chuckles, bringing his gaze back to her. “As though it were not a tremendous request.”
Tharan snuggles into the nook, bringing his arm in contact with Alkara’s. Guen stretches and stands before padding away with one look back.
Alkara’s face crumples under the honesty. The sincerity. Something in that purity flutters in her chest which builds into a pounding of her lifebeat. She lifts a hand, hesitates, but then caresses his cheek. “Tharan… Are you sure?” Her voice quiets. The question so small and fragile it begs to be answered. “Our time together will be so short for you. I–”
“I am.” Tharan’s hand comes up and rests on hers. His eyes glisten. “I have had months to deliberate.” He stares into Alkara’s eyes, smiling. “I know what I am asking and what it means Alkara, please.”
Alkara chuffs. She smirks and twitches an eyebrow up. “Months is not that long for an elf. Even if they were your months.”
Tharan reaches to caress Alkara’s cheek, and she nestles into that touch. He tilts his head to bring his forehead to hers. “Either. Both. Time tormented me as I ruminated on the possibility. Each meeting lifted my spirits before the inevitable coldness of your absence.” He swallows, blinks once, and looks down. “Whatever treasure you gift me. Be it this meeting. A decade. Five. Or the rest of your life. I will cherish as an undeserved prize.”
Alkara’s breath catches. An ache tugs at her heart as tears well in her eyes. She blinks them away and opens her eyes wide.
Am I going to cry?
Alkara had always heard of people crying with joy. She’d just never thought she’d experience it herself. She places her other hand over Tharan’s at her cheek. For a time, they hold each other, forehead to forehead, in silence. A few tears fall, but Alkara isn’t sure if they’re hers or Tharan’s. Or both.
Guen whines from around the trunk and reality crashes down around her. She sighs, and slumps, gripping his hands with hers. The details of her next mission rush back to the forefront of her thoughts.
Tharan must have noticed the change, his silver eyebrows knit together. “Alkara? What’s wrong?”
Alkara averts her gaze. She hungers for the moment to stretch into the future, but her duty calls. If she doesn’t address the monster, someone less able might. Alkara closes her eyes and leans into the comfort of Tharan’s touch, bringing her head down to rest on his shoulder. A pit in her stomach forms, as though someone had tied up her insides.
Too soon she pulls her hands away, dropping them into her lap. “If we… do this.” Alkara fidgets with the hem of her tunic. “Then you need to know what you’re getting into as well.” She opens her eyes and pulls away.
Tharan wrinkles his brow, but his eyes soften. He slides his hands down to Alkara’s elbows. With stiff neck, he nods once.
Alkara huffs. “I’m a hunter, Tharan. The arrow nocked in the bow. I was hired to hunt and slay another aberrant right before I left Three Rivers. I… almost didn’t get to come.” Her stomach churns, what if Tharan doesn’t want to involve himself with that side of life? “The creature was spotted close to the city. A few days Trueward and Urbound. They want me to deal with it before it causes any trouble.”
Tharan shifts in the nook. The stiffness in his neck radiates down into his body. “When do you leave?” He swallows. “Are you going alone again?”
Alkara closes her eyes, certain that she won’t be able to deal with the look on Tharan’s face. “Thanks to the additional travel time… Tonight. And… yes.” Heavy weight fills the air. Alkara slowly opens her eyes.
“But why?” Tharan swallows and winces, as though it were painful. He searches Alkara’s eyes. “A team and escort would benefit you. As in the Depths.”
Alkara sets her jaw. “I know.” Her lifebeat quickens. “But I can’t risk anyone else against those monsters. It’s too dangerous.”
Tharan struggles for a moment, his eyes searching the grassy canvas they rest upon. His voice comes out in a near whisper. “Your life matters too, Alkara. Are you so enamored with danger that you would disregard Urdima’s gift?”
Alkara’s head snaps up. She opens her mouth but the softness in his eyes restrains whatever words might have spilled out. Her skin tingles under his scrutiny.
Tharan presses on with an even tone, pleading with his eyes. “Please, Alkara. I have no desire for you to withdraw from the Retrievers. But please, take competent fellows to assist you.” He raises his eyebrows. “Train those that need it and engage with the aberrant as a team. Or at least take Iroshi–”
“Uncle Iro’s not here,” Alkara says while shaking her head. “He’s not due back for at least a week. Maybe longer.”
Tharan nods once, keeping his eyes fixed on hers. “Dreonna and Chiron then. They are both skilled and have fought with you before.” He pulls away, removing his hands from her elbows and settling into an upright posture. “They will be angry when they learn that you hunted another aberrant without them.”
Alkara leaps to her feet. Tears prick at her eyes but heat flushes through her. She raises her voice, “You don’t understand.” She breathes hard, nostrils flaring. “You’ve never seen what those things do. One of them sliced open my brother’s head. I watched the monster steal his brain.” Alkara points an accusatory finger at Tharan. “Do you have any idea what that’s like?”
Tharan rises, holding his hands palms out and fingers splayed. Still he refuses to break eye contact. “And if you never return?” He steps into her space and with a gentle hand pushes Alkara’s hand down. “What then? Your family will hunt the creature that kills you. Sengmar’s death was terrible. The creature that killed him worse. But you are still stronger together, Alkara. You must trust your family.” He looks down, shoulders slumping. “If not for your sake. Or mine.” A hint of a smile appears and vanishes. “Then for theirs.”
Alkara sinks to her knees, head in her hands, breath fast and shallow. Black spots darken her vision. Her limbs numb and her head droops. She stares unseeing at the ground.
The phantom of Sengmar’s death screams at Alkara. His terror grimace. The curdling scream. The blood running in rivulets down his face. His final ‘Run’ echoes out from the depths of her memory.
Strong arms enfold her and pull her in. She stiffens, resisting at first but with enough awareness to discount the idea that it’s the brain thief. After several long moments, Alkara leans into the embrace, muscles tight and tense. Several long moments pass before she relaxes into Tharan’s arms. She squeezes her eyes shut against the visions.
But it doesn’t help.
Tharan’s slow, steady breaths soothe her instead. His warm chest expands and contracts in a slow, steady rhythm. Alkara concentrates on his breathing, trying to force hers to match.
Minutes pass. How many, Alkara isn’t sure. Eventually the twinge in her heart subsides. Alkara takes one shuddering breath and wipes the tears from her face and the snot from her nose. “I’m sorry.” Her voice sounds small and childlike.
Pathetic.
Tharan squeezes Alkara. “For what?” His tone warm with a smile.
“We’re not courting yet and you’ve already had to deal with a melt down.”
Tharan chuckles. “Alkara.” His voice no longer holds the smile, now a grave tone sets in. “You are a remarkably capable hunter. Your skill, reputation, and renown will continue to grow.” Tharan strokes Alkara’s arms. “As you grow toward your potential, the aberrants you face will likewise grow in danger and difficulty to subdue. I would advise you to find and maintain support. To trust your family.” He takes a deep breath and a light, airy tone enters his voice, “Part of which, I someday hope to be included.”
Alkara swallows and swipes again at her nose with the back of her hand. “Well… at least you’re not usually on the battlefield.”
His soft chuckle breaks over her like a wave. “Usually not, no.” Tharan rests his cheek against the crown of Alkara’s head. “Words quell violence and hostility better than any hammer I wield.”
Alkara snorts. Her muscles weak, drowsiness settles over her like a warm blanket. She opens her eyes and blinks away the sleep. “Tharan,” She says with an air of false complaint, “If you don’t let me go I’m pretty sure I’ll fall asleep right here.” Alkara frowns, betrayed by her own sensibility. “And I have a long day ahead.”
Tharan squeezes her before letting go. They pull apart, filling the gulf between them with longing. Tharan stands and offers Alkara a hand to help her up. She stares for the briefest moment before taking it with a smile.
They brush the grasses and dirt from their clothes. Tharan looks at her with a faltering smile. “I have a favor to ask of you Alkara.”
She puts her hands on her hips and cocks an eyebrow at him.
“Please come to Afanen with me.” He gestures to her quiver laying against the treant trunk. “I would craft more arrows for you. And another bell for Guenwyvar.” Tharan shakes his head at Alkara’s attempt to protest. “No, this one ought not chime early.” Tharan tightens his mouth with a tight, knitted brow. “I will not stop you if you insist on going alone, but I request the opportunity to afford you protection to my best ability.”
Alkara shakes her head. Her knees spasm, threatening to give out. The offer overwhelms her. Those arrows had cost her a cute coronal last time! Her scant supply might not be sufficient.
Four left. With the right placements it may– wait.
“Tharan, I can’t.” She waves absently Trueward. “It took days to craft everything last time.”
Tharan holds up a hand. “I shall not delay you more than a day.”
Alkara huffs, shaking her head. “That’s one day in Afanen. Plus the two days to get there and two more coming back.”
A smile slowly grows on his face like a panther at the cream bowl. “No, I think not. I shall instead, whisk you to the edge of Deadwood by the time you would need to have left Three Rivers.”
Alkara frowns. “What? How?”
Tharan’s eyes sparkle with mischief, but he says nothing.
Alkara rolls her eyes, then presses her lips together. “What about Chiron and Dre? They’ll expect me back soon.”
“We will send a messenger.” Tharan gestures toward the tree line and the paladin standing sentry. “There is a courier in my escort.”
Alkara straddles the line between the two ideas in her mind. Her objections stymied, she looks Urbound toward Three Rivers and then Edgebound toward Afanen. She holds her tongue, waffling a moment.
Alkara shakes her head, defeated. “So they’ll know I’m not returning to Three Rivers.” She narrows her eyes with a smirk. “Will Dorië be able to send a new meeting place to them?”
Any tightness remaining in Tharan’s expression slackens to allow a wide grin. He breathes out one long breath and nods. “His displeasure notwithstanding, he will see it done.” He turns toward Afanen and looks back. “Shall we?”
At the smile, Alkara’s chest seems fill with a warm… gooey sensation.
Oof. Gooey? I really am falling for this guy.
Alkara calls to Guen and strolls toward the Doësin capital, Tharan at her side. They walk near halfway across the glade in comfortable silence. Alkara tilts her head toward Tharan. “So… did I tell you about the Slivered Bear-Weasel and the dryad?”