Dryad Eyes, part 21
1,958.
First post of the New Year, yo! WOOO! Hope everyone had a great one.
Somehow, knowing that the door was locked made the room she had been given even more lonely and barren than before. Lithia sighed and shifted her eyes away from the door to the open window, through which sunlight spilled in and across her bed. She had left her people behind to escape a different kind of prison, in the form of a life of servitude and slavery. When she was first informed of what had happened between Charis and Bea the Apothercary, and that she would be confined to her room until the matter was resolved to Geran's satisfaction, Lithia had thought that she could tolerate this imprisonment. She had told herself that she could last at least until her name was cleared. More and more, however, she found herself gazing longingly at that patch of blue sky that she could see through her window.
Hope flared in her young chest when she heard a key in the lock, and she nearly came to her feet. It was not Geran, however, that entered her room. It was the other man, with the blonde hair, the vest, and the swords. He called himself Kurik. Her magic, tuned to his beating heart and flowing blood, suggested that he was lying, or perhaps not telling the whole truth.
"How are you?" The swordsman asked casually, taking a seat in the little wooden chair that had been placed beside the bed on which she sat. Lithia ignored the question, watching the man's face. In spite of his apparent dishonesty concerning his name, she quite liked him. He was a man that was at peace, except when he was not, and while he did not present to her the beautiful harmony of mind and body that Geran did, this made him comfortable company.
"Has everyone been treating you well? Meals arriving on time?"
Again, she ignored the question, and his frustration was a tangible thing to her. "Listen, girl. You need to talk to us. If we can't communicate, we can't build trust, and if we can't build trust between us, you will probably never get out of here."
"I will not be here forever."
"Clearly, you don't know Geran very well."
"He is kind. I know this."
"He is also the Battle King, a warrior, and more stubborn than any man ever was. If you plan on waiting for him to waver and relent, then you had best be planning on outliving him."
Kurik's concern for her touched her, but his words frightened her. What if he was right and Geran would never let her go without her giving him information that she did not have? Sure, she could tell him a little more about the package she had carried and delivered to the apothecary. There had been life within it. Like a dying heart, it fluttered softly against the extra senses her magic lent her, and that was why she had been hired to carry it. Her job had been to keep it steady, calm, and going when it tried to slow to a halt. What if that was not enough to satisfy the King, however? Would Geran really keep her here for all time?
"I could have left already, you know." Lithia said, slipping off the bed and standing before the swordsman. Her immodest outfit, and her age, made him uncomfortable, and she knew that he feared she was coming onto him.
"And how's that?"
"Like this."
Kurik seemed puzzled for a moment. She was doing nothing, simply standing before him and staring, hard, at his face. What was this about, then? He had a feeling, deep in his gut, that his first impression had been wrong. She was not attracted to him, nor was she trying to use her body in order to acquire her freedom. That simply did not fit. Then, as he thought on this, a strange new sensation took hold within him. His chest felt tight, and it became hard to breath. Panic took hold within him as he felt his heart slow, and come to a halt.
"Oh Gods... no." He whispered, and fell sideways out of his chair.
--------------
Confused and flustered herself, now, Lithia peeked around a third corner and spied yet another guardsman. A moment later, he too was clutching his chest and sagging to the floor. Like Kurik, and the other two she had encountered since, he would wake up in a few hours sore and tired.
Though the Keep had indeed seemed huge from a distance and bigger still when she had been brought into it, she felt that she had not truly appreciated its size until she had become lost within it. She had been careful, when they had brought her here, to count the turns and passages that would have lead her back to her freedom, but the count was high and somewhere along the way, she had missed something. Fortunately, however, things were finally beginning to look familiar again. Unfortunately, it was not because she was nearing the exit, but because she was certain that she was nearing the rooms of the girl whose life she had helped save but four days before.
Sprinting down the hallway, mindful of any sound of pursuit from behind her, Lithia came to yet another corner and peaked around. A frown creased her brow. There, in the middle of this next hallway, lay a fourth unconscious guardsman. Was she running in circles? No, she thought; as she stepped around the corner and felt icy fingers of dread creeping into her heart. Blood was pooled about the man before her, and she had been so, so careful to not truly harm the men she had taken down.
From within the room to the right, there came a heavy thud and a muffled cry. "No!"
Surprising herself, Lithia did not hesitate. She skipped over the dead man in the hallway, and reached for the door. A voice from behind her commanded her to stop, and was followed by the heavy footfalls of somebody rushing toward her. Spinning back on her heel, the young redheaded woman sighted two men and held up a hand for each of them. Choking, they went down. One of them landed face-first on the dead guardsman. There had been no time to be as delicate as she had been with the other men she had dealt with that day, and she prayed silently that they would survive. Killing was not something that she enjoyed.
Turning away from them, she grabbed the door handle and yanked it open. There were two people inside the room from which the cry had originated. One of them, looking pale and weak and presently struggling to keep the knife the other held from her throat, was the girl that Lithia had helped save a few days before. The other, a man who glanced toward her with cold, blue eyes, was yet another familiar face.
"You!" Erek the mercenary snapped. "What are you doing here?"
"Stopping this." Lithia said in what she hoped was an authorative voice. Holding up a hand, she reached for his heart with the same intent that had felled the two men in the hallway. Immediately, she knew that something was wrong. He shoved himself away from the girl in the bed, staggered for a moment, then reached into his shirt. The item he withdrew hung from a chord about his neck, was round, and glowed a bright red. A moment later, searing pain unlike anything she had ever experienced ripped into her body and she screamed as she went down.
"So you're like them, then." Erek was saying as he approached. "Your magic is in your blood."
The last thing she saw as she blacked out was a pale, slender figure leaping on Erek's back from behind. He tossed the woman that had been his original target forward, against the wall, and struck her once, hard, across the face. She slid down to the floor beside the door.
Gods, Lithia thought. We're both going to die.
--------------
She was dreaming of her mother when a strange, disorienting, back-and-forth motion roused her. As her senses began to make sense of her surroundings, she realized that the wall she was leaning against was a man's chest, and that she was being carried. Oh Gods, she thought again. Had she been taken captive? What had become of the sick girl that Erek had been trying to kill? Before she could formulate the words to ask the questions, or even fully open her eyes, she was falling. Landing upon the hard, cold, stone floor brought her fully awake and she looked up to see a very angry seeming Kurik standing over her.
So she was not a captive of Erek's. Lithia was relieved. But what about the other girl? "The girl... is she... ?"
"Treyp? She is alive. No thanks to you."
"What...?"
"You know," the swordsman spoke in angry tones that came only rarely to his voice. "I honestly believed that you were an innocent that was caught up in somebody else's web. I was trying to help you. Then you go and use your magic against me, and try to kill one of my friends."
"I didn't...!"
"If you would try it again, be warned. Ganatal warded this room personally, at Geran's request. Should my heart so much as skip a beat, you will burn in agony unlike anything you have ever experienced."
"No!" Lithia cried, remembering the searing pain from the stone Erek had held. Would it be like that, or worse? It was not an experience she looked forward to repeating. "Listen, it was not me. Bring Geran. I will stay here, but bring Geran, he's got to... "
"I rather doubt that you have anything to say that he wishes to hear, at this point."
"Okay. I understand. You will, too." Lithia pushed herself into a seated position, staring up at her captor. "What of the other one? The dark skinned man who cares for Treyp? The one with the knives?"
"You mean Matthew?"
"Is that his name?"
"Be wary." Kurik warned. "I think you should hope that his gaze does not fall upon you again."
"No, please, I need to talk to him!"
"After what you tried to do, he'll probably just kill you and be done with it."
"Then let him!" Lithia shouted. "Let him kill me, and perhaps you will all be lucky enough to catch Treyp's true attacker by accident! Or you can bring him, or Geran, to speak with me so that they can learn what I have seen."
"Why don't you tell me, then?"
"You have already demonstrated your inability to listen. I do not deal with fools."
The swordsman went red in the face. He was so very angry in that moment. Lithia could feel it. She wondered if he might resort to violence, though he had truly not seemed the sort. He did not. Finally, after working his jaw for nearly a full minute, he turned away and walked from the cell.
"I will bring Matthew." He said as he kicked the door shut. "It's your funeral."
He left, taking the light of the torch with him. Alone, and in the dark, Lithia wrapped her arms around her knees and rested her chin on her arms. She was frightened. For the very first time, she wondered if she had made a mistake in leaving her people. Perhaps the life she had sought to avoid was preferable to being murdered for a crime she did not commit. Shifting her head downward, she pressed her forehead against her arms instead and, for the first time in a very long time, began to cry.
First post of the New Year, yo! WOOO! Hope everyone had a great one.
Somehow, knowing that the door was locked made the room she had been given even more lonely and barren than before. Lithia sighed and shifted her eyes away from the door to the open window, through which sunlight spilled in and across her bed. She had left her people behind to escape a different kind of prison, in the form of a life of servitude and slavery. When she was first informed of what had happened between Charis and Bea the Apothercary, and that she would be confined to her room until the matter was resolved to Geran's satisfaction, Lithia had thought that she could tolerate this imprisonment. She had told herself that she could last at least until her name was cleared. More and more, however, she found herself gazing longingly at that patch of blue sky that she could see through her window.
Hope flared in her young chest when she heard a key in the lock, and she nearly came to her feet. It was not Geran, however, that entered her room. It was the other man, with the blonde hair, the vest, and the swords. He called himself Kurik. Her magic, tuned to his beating heart and flowing blood, suggested that he was lying, or perhaps not telling the whole truth.
"How are you?" The swordsman asked casually, taking a seat in the little wooden chair that had been placed beside the bed on which she sat. Lithia ignored the question, watching the man's face. In spite of his apparent dishonesty concerning his name, she quite liked him. He was a man that was at peace, except when he was not, and while he did not present to her the beautiful harmony of mind and body that Geran did, this made him comfortable company.
"Has everyone been treating you well? Meals arriving on time?"
Again, she ignored the question, and his frustration was a tangible thing to her. "Listen, girl. You need to talk to us. If we can't communicate, we can't build trust, and if we can't build trust between us, you will probably never get out of here."
"I will not be here forever."
"Clearly, you don't know Geran very well."
"He is kind. I know this."
"He is also the Battle King, a warrior, and more stubborn than any man ever was. If you plan on waiting for him to waver and relent, then you had best be planning on outliving him."
Kurik's concern for her touched her, but his words frightened her. What if he was right and Geran would never let her go without her giving him information that she did not have? Sure, she could tell him a little more about the package she had carried and delivered to the apothecary. There had been life within it. Like a dying heart, it fluttered softly against the extra senses her magic lent her, and that was why she had been hired to carry it. Her job had been to keep it steady, calm, and going when it tried to slow to a halt. What if that was not enough to satisfy the King, however? Would Geran really keep her here for all time?
"I could have left already, you know." Lithia said, slipping off the bed and standing before the swordsman. Her immodest outfit, and her age, made him uncomfortable, and she knew that he feared she was coming onto him.
"And how's that?"
"Like this."
Kurik seemed puzzled for a moment. She was doing nothing, simply standing before him and staring, hard, at his face. What was this about, then? He had a feeling, deep in his gut, that his first impression had been wrong. She was not attracted to him, nor was she trying to use her body in order to acquire her freedom. That simply did not fit. Then, as he thought on this, a strange new sensation took hold within him. His chest felt tight, and it became hard to breath. Panic took hold within him as he felt his heart slow, and come to a halt.
"Oh Gods... no." He whispered, and fell sideways out of his chair.
--------------
Confused and flustered herself, now, Lithia peeked around a third corner and spied yet another guardsman. A moment later, he too was clutching his chest and sagging to the floor. Like Kurik, and the other two she had encountered since, he would wake up in a few hours sore and tired.
Though the Keep had indeed seemed huge from a distance and bigger still when she had been brought into it, she felt that she had not truly appreciated its size until she had become lost within it. She had been careful, when they had brought her here, to count the turns and passages that would have lead her back to her freedom, but the count was high and somewhere along the way, she had missed something. Fortunately, however, things were finally beginning to look familiar again. Unfortunately, it was not because she was nearing the exit, but because she was certain that she was nearing the rooms of the girl whose life she had helped save but four days before.
Sprinting down the hallway, mindful of any sound of pursuit from behind her, Lithia came to yet another corner and peaked around. A frown creased her brow. There, in the middle of this next hallway, lay a fourth unconscious guardsman. Was she running in circles? No, she thought; as she stepped around the corner and felt icy fingers of dread creeping into her heart. Blood was pooled about the man before her, and she had been so, so careful to not truly harm the men she had taken down.
From within the room to the right, there came a heavy thud and a muffled cry. "No!"
Surprising herself, Lithia did not hesitate. She skipped over the dead man in the hallway, and reached for the door. A voice from behind her commanded her to stop, and was followed by the heavy footfalls of somebody rushing toward her. Spinning back on her heel, the young redheaded woman sighted two men and held up a hand for each of them. Choking, they went down. One of them landed face-first on the dead guardsman. There had been no time to be as delicate as she had been with the other men she had dealt with that day, and she prayed silently that they would survive. Killing was not something that she enjoyed.
Turning away from them, she grabbed the door handle and yanked it open. There were two people inside the room from which the cry had originated. One of them, looking pale and weak and presently struggling to keep the knife the other held from her throat, was the girl that Lithia had helped save a few days before. The other, a man who glanced toward her with cold, blue eyes, was yet another familiar face.
"You!" Erek the mercenary snapped. "What are you doing here?"
"Stopping this." Lithia said in what she hoped was an authorative voice. Holding up a hand, she reached for his heart with the same intent that had felled the two men in the hallway. Immediately, she knew that something was wrong. He shoved himself away from the girl in the bed, staggered for a moment, then reached into his shirt. The item he withdrew hung from a chord about his neck, was round, and glowed a bright red. A moment later, searing pain unlike anything she had ever experienced ripped into her body and she screamed as she went down.
"So you're like them, then." Erek was saying as he approached. "Your magic is in your blood."
The last thing she saw as she blacked out was a pale, slender figure leaping on Erek's back from behind. He tossed the woman that had been his original target forward, against the wall, and struck her once, hard, across the face. She slid down to the floor beside the door.
Gods, Lithia thought. We're both going to die.
--------------
She was dreaming of her mother when a strange, disorienting, back-and-forth motion roused her. As her senses began to make sense of her surroundings, she realized that the wall she was leaning against was a man's chest, and that she was being carried. Oh Gods, she thought again. Had she been taken captive? What had become of the sick girl that Erek had been trying to kill? Before she could formulate the words to ask the questions, or even fully open her eyes, she was falling. Landing upon the hard, cold, stone floor brought her fully awake and she looked up to see a very angry seeming Kurik standing over her.
So she was not a captive of Erek's. Lithia was relieved. But what about the other girl? "The girl... is she... ?"
"Treyp? She is alive. No thanks to you."
"What...?"
"You know," the swordsman spoke in angry tones that came only rarely to his voice. "I honestly believed that you were an innocent that was caught up in somebody else's web. I was trying to help you. Then you go and use your magic against me, and try to kill one of my friends."
"I didn't...!"
"If you would try it again, be warned. Ganatal warded this room personally, at Geran's request. Should my heart so much as skip a beat, you will burn in agony unlike anything you have ever experienced."
"No!" Lithia cried, remembering the searing pain from the stone Erek had held. Would it be like that, or worse? It was not an experience she looked forward to repeating. "Listen, it was not me. Bring Geran. I will stay here, but bring Geran, he's got to... "
"I rather doubt that you have anything to say that he wishes to hear, at this point."
"Okay. I understand. You will, too." Lithia pushed herself into a seated position, staring up at her captor. "What of the other one? The dark skinned man who cares for Treyp? The one with the knives?"
"You mean Matthew?"
"Is that his name?"
"Be wary." Kurik warned. "I think you should hope that his gaze does not fall upon you again."
"No, please, I need to talk to him!"
"After what you tried to do, he'll probably just kill you and be done with it."
"Then let him!" Lithia shouted. "Let him kill me, and perhaps you will all be lucky enough to catch Treyp's true attacker by accident! Or you can bring him, or Geran, to speak with me so that they can learn what I have seen."
"Why don't you tell me, then?"
"You have already demonstrated your inability to listen. I do not deal with fools."
The swordsman went red in the face. He was so very angry in that moment. Lithia could feel it. She wondered if he might resort to violence, though he had truly not seemed the sort. He did not. Finally, after working his jaw for nearly a full minute, he turned away and walked from the cell.
"I will bring Matthew." He said as he kicked the door shut. "It's your funeral."
He left, taking the light of the torch with him. Alone, and in the dark, Lithia wrapped her arms around her knees and rested her chin on her arms. She was frightened. For the very first time, she wondered if she had made a mistake in leaving her people. Perhaps the life she had sought to avoid was preferable to being murdered for a crime she did not commit. Shifting her head downward, she pressed her forehead against her arms instead and, for the first time in a very long time, began to cry.