“Please, Arkin,” Sasha said.
Arkin reached over his shoulder and plucked an arrow out of his quiver and tossed it to Legon. It was odd-looking too. The arrow was amazingly light. It had a three-bladed head, but the blades weren’t metal. “Wood,” he said softly. There was more. He ran his fingers up the arrow that was covered in holes for about an inch and then more about seven inches up. Understanding took hold as Sasha spoke. “What are the holes for? Is that wood?”
“Why the holes, Legon?” Arkin asked as he stood over them. Kovos and Keither were now moving toward them.
“When something is shot with an arrow you start to bleed out, but the arrow plugs the wound. Once removed the wound bleeds a lot, so you have to wait until a healer is around to pull it. But not with this arrow. You see these holes at the front of it?” he said, placing it in Sasha’s hand and pointing out the holes.
“Yes.”
“And how light it is?”
“Yes.”
“Well, my guess is that the shaft is hollow and the holes in the head vent blood to the holes up farther, basically holding the wound open so you bleed out fast, and I mean real fast. Arkin, what is this? There is no way a wood arrow is that strong.”
“It is if it’s made by an Elf,” Arkin replied. Legon felt his stomach drop.
“I am an Elven agent, Legon. I have been the whole time I’ve been in Salmont. I knew your mother, and you have been my mission.”
Chapter Ten
The Compass of Time
“I remember the first time my eyes were opened. From that point on I’ve had a hard time taking things at face value. Most people and things are so much more than what they seem. The question is, do you want to see what they are, and how do you know you’re seeing the correct thing?”
- Conversations in the Garden
Legon couldn’t believe what he was hearing. There was no way that this was happening, no way that Arkin was telling the truth, but he knew he was.
“You’re an Elven agent and I am your mission?” he asked, just to confirm. Arkin looked put out. This probably wasn’t how he had planned on breaking the news to him.
“Yes, Legon, I am. You want to ask a lot of questions, but not now. Right now we need to move camp for the night. I promise you will have lots of time to ask questions. You have that right, and I won’t stop you.”
Time was not moving all that fast right now, and Legon’s brain was not working at the moment. It was done for the day and it wasn’t going to take anymore. He turned and looked at Sasha. She was still covered in blood, her face pale, mouth open. She looked at him, looked him right in the eyes. Never had she looked like that. She was defeated, hurt, humiliated, and her life was turned upside down. She hated violence, and yet all she’d gotten today was that and a lot of it. There was a pleading look in her eyes, and it was this that brought clarity.
His problems could wait. He’d been in the dark his whole life, but Sasha and Keither needed to get out of this place. He and Kovos probably did too, but they would have an easier time keeping it together. After all, they had been the ones to end the situation and in a way this gave them at least some closure. He didn’t want to sleep here in the blood and gore of the day, and the pressure of the situation was going to get to him eventually. He needed to move and sleep. Then, maybe, he would be fine.
“Ok, let’s finish up here and get moving. Let’s take their horses. We can sell them or use them for pack. I don’t think it would be good to let them wander off.” He let the pressure shape his thoughts, let it make the important decisions.
This was something that came naturally to him. Pressure focused him, made things clear, and presented the best and sometimes only options. Maybe that’s why he was a good fighter. Most people lost their heads in a fight, like the soldiers today, but you couldn’t do that, not if you wanted to win.
“I agree. We will be able to sell them easily and we can keep a couple for pack so we can move faster,” Arkin said, walking over to a tent and knocking it down. He began kicking it about, breaking random things.
Kovos was still gaping at Arkin. Legon jerked his head at Keither and Sasha, which brought Kovos back. Soon the campsite was trashed and the men robbed, so he didn’t think anyone could tell it was staged, maybe because they had actually robbed the men, but he wasn’t thinking about that right now.
He began moving toward the horses. The ones the queen’s men rode looked fine, a few with specks of blood on them but they hadn’t minded the violence. Their horses weren’t used to it, so they were jittery. Phantom was doing better than Murray but not by much. Both animals backed away from them. Kovos’ horse Calvin was fine; in fact, Legon wasn’t sure it had even known what was going on. The clanging of metal probably didn’t bother blacksmith’s horses, but Keither’s, well, Margaret’s their mothers, horse Pixy was freaking out. Pixy was young and Margaret hadn’t worked with her too much yet. She was a good horse and he thought that she would be good for Keither. Sasha was the one in the end that got them calmed down. She loved horses. She had trained both Phantom and Murray, and both were great. Calvin wasn’t too bad but she would have to help Keither with Pixy. “This was probably a good thing,” Legon thought—she needed something to take her mind off of what was going on.
Kovos collected the soldier’s horses and was tying their “earnings” to them. For some reason this made Legon feel self-conscious, like he had done something wrong, but he hadn’t. The men needed to look like they were robbed, but still he couldn’t help but think of himself as a thief. He turned to look at the devastated camp. Everything was still fresh, the blood still glistened off the leaves, the ground was still muddy, but that was starting to dry a bit. The sun was all but gone now. They needed to go, needed to set up a new camp, eat, and get some answers.
As he rode he looked at the arrow he’d taken back from Sasha. It still amazed him. He had loved archery for so long, and what if it was part of his ancestry? He should be mulling over what had happened, but he couldn’t help but feel a little excited. His people made this, and maybe someday he could do the same. Or, maybe he would never do it, maybe the human side would take over and he would be a butcher. This bothered him. He never thought of being anything other than a butcher, and even if he went to the Elves he might just be a butcher there.
Sasha was riding next to him, looking off in the distance, her eyes unfocused. He wondered what was going on in her head. He hoped that she was all right. The men hadn’t actually raped her, but the commander came close enough, and that was reason enough for her to have issues. She’d be fine in a few days. Sasha was tougher than she looked; at least he hoped she was. Arkin pulled off into a clearing to the left of the road, going down next to the stream.
“We’ll camp here for the night. Keither, find some wood for a fire. Sasha, please make something simple for us to eat. It can be bread for all I care, but we need to eat. Kovos, tend to the horses and help Legon set up the tents. I’m going to walk the perimeter of camp to make sure we’re safe,” Arkin said and then walked off in the woods.
There was still no talking as they set camp. When they were done, Sasha went into one of the tents and changed her clothes, coming out with the bloody ones in her hands. She walked to the fire and tossed them in. No one stopped her. In fact, watching them burn seemed to make them feel better about their current situation. By the time they were burned and gone, Arkin was back and Sasha seemed to be feeling much better. They all changed and it did seem to make them feel cleaner in some way, almost like by taking off the old clothes and putting on the new ones they were cleansing themselves in the process.
They sat around the fire eating bread, waiting for Arkin to start. This was his show; he had the answers, and they were willing to wait for them. Arkin looked like he was thinking hard about what to say.
“Twenty years ago, a woman I knew and was close to married an Elf. It was rare for this to happen, but what was rarer was that she got pregnant. The coupl
e knew it was a bad idea to raise the child where they lived.”
“Why?” asked Legon.
“In time you will find out, but not now.”
“It’s my past. Why not now?” he asked, his voice getting stern.
“Because I can’t tell you everything. I have taken many oaths, and no matter how much I may want to tell you everything, I can’t. Please trust me on this.” It was a question as well as a statement, and Legon knew that if he pushed his luck that Arkin wouldn’t tell him anything.
“They decided to move by Salmont, and that’s where they were going to raise you until they figured out if you were going to be Elf or human. After you were born, things were going fine. I was stationed in Salmont as protection.”
There was sadness in Arkin’s eyes and a helpless look. Never had Legon seen Arkin get emotional.
“It is my fault your mother was killed. If I had tried harder they would have never made it to her, they wouldn’t have…” he trailed off. At first when Arkin said that it was his fault that his mother was dead, Legon felt a twinge of anger, but that left as he watched him. Arkin had never half-hearted anything in Legon’s whole life, and he doubted that he had then either. In fact, he was sure that the man had been carrying this with him for years. Every time he saw Legon he had to be reminded.
“It’s fine Arkin. I’m sure you did your best.”
“My best was not good enough. They got to her before I could get there. I went out hunting, planning on leaving Brack and Edis to find her, but you know what happened after that…”
“Yeah, I do.” He was surprised at how he felt bad. After all, he never knew his birth parents and looked at Edis, Laura, as his parents and Sasha as his real sister. So why feel so bad about it? They knew the risks, didn’t they? Or was it because they put themselves in danger for his benefit, for his protection?
“Anyway, I got word that the Iumenta had found out what was going on when they killed your father. Apparently one of the men with him was a traitor. We never found out who. The whole party was killed, traitor and all. So after that my orders were to watch you and train you.”
“Train me, and what?”
“If you looked like you were going to turn Elf then I was to take you back to the Elves. If you went human then I was to let you lead a normal life, and if you began to turn Elf but leaned to the side of the Iumenta…”
“You were to kill me.” Legon finished.
Arkin flinched. “Yes. There has never been an Elven traitor, but there hasn’t been anyone in your position for hundreds of years.” This wasn’t a shock. It made logical sense to need to protect your country from attack, but still, to think of himself being viewed as a “possible threat” bothered him.
“Ok, ok that’s fine. Truth be told, if I turned out to be anything like one of the bastards we killed today I would hope you would kill me. So what now?”
Arkin looked almost proud of him and he seemed to have a more familiar look about him. “We go to Salez. Your lot needs to learn some new tricks.” As he spoke he took the two blades off his back still in the sheaths, handing them to Legon. “These were your father’s fenrra. They are yours. They have been in your house for over two thousand years.” Legon took hold of the fenrra, amazed by the lightness of them. The handles were one-handed and there was not much of a hilt. The sheath was a dark, deep purple, almost black. The grips were wrapped with something that felt like leather. The pommel was slanted with a tree inside a triangle surrounded by a circle. The whole thing looked like it was made of gold but was untarnished and unscratched, so it couldn’t have been. There was what looked like gold thread up the handles and the hilt was also gold with intricate leaves.
He stood and pulled on the handle of one of the fenrra. It came out without a sound, revealing a blade that looked like a mirror, the edge of which was visible and went up about a quarter of an inch along the forward edge and about a fourth of the way up along the back edge. He felt power gush through him. He held it up in the fire light, seeing himself more clearly than he ever had. The handle felt perfect in his hand, like it was made for him. He ran his finger along the edge. It was sharper than anything he’d ever seen. He handed the other one to Kovos, who pulled it out, marveling. Both men turned the fenrra over in their hands, feeling the balance and comfort. They just felt good, almost like an extension of his own body.
“They will almost never dull. Those have been sharpened only twice, once when they were made and then again about seven hundred years ago. They will also never break, or, if you do manage to break them, you will be one of only a few who’s managed it. That edge is sharper than anything you’ve seen and armor means little to them. Elves and Iumenta only wear light armor, more for humans and lesser objects. You see the thicker part of the blade?” Arkin said, pointing at the last half of the fenrra.
“Yes.”
“That part there is used to deflect arrows and anything else sent your way. You won’t be able to do it now, but if you turn into an Elf you’ll be fast enough.”
This should have floored him, but nothing was a surprise anymore.
Kovos handed him the other blade and he stood amazed. They felt so natural. He didn’t want to let them go. It made him feel like nothing could hurt him, like they somehow had abilities of their own.
“Now we need to sleep. Don’t worry about sleeping in tomorrow. We have all had a hard day. I know it’s early, but you need to rest,” Arkin said.
There was a part of Legon that wanted to stay up, the same part that made him fight with his parents when he was growing up and they wanted him to go to bed, but Arkin was right and they did have a long way to go. Sleeping now was good. He replaced the fenrra in their sheaths. “That sounds good. I am assuming you want Kovos and Keither to share a tent, and you and me to take one?”
Sasha spoke for the first time in a while. “Please. I don’t want to be alone tonight. Can I stay with you, Legon? I promise I won’t bother you.”
Of course she would want to stay with him. She was terrified. How could he make her be alone?
“Of course you can. I’m sorry, I should have said that. I’ll move your bedroll and bag to my tent.”
“Stay with Legon as long as you like, Sasha,” Arkin added.
* * * * *
Kovos couldn’t believe this. How did Arkin get those swords and how was he able to hide in town for so long? Did anyone know? Keither was looking better and he thought that the boy would be fine by the morning. In truth he was a little proud of how well Keither had done. He hadn’t complained and it looked like he was toughing it out. This was a good thing, and it would be helpful for their current situation. He suspected that there was going to be a lot of toughing it out to come, and if Keither could keep it together he may turn into a real person. “It is going to feel good to lie down and sleep,” Kovos thought as he parted the folds to the tent and entered. There was his bedroll waiting for him. He thought about stripping down to his undergarments, but decided against it. You never know when you might get attacked.
He couldn’t get the day off his mind, especially the fenrra. Now that was metalwork at its best. Sharpened twice in two thousand years, and they were so sharp. He didn’t even know metal could get that sharp. Maybe if he played his cards right he could learn how to do that.
He was also bothered by the fact that he wasn’t upset about killing people. He should be, he should feel bad… but nothing, nothing at all. He got mad when he thought about Keither and Sasha getting hurt, but doing the hurting… it didn’t bother him. In fact it felt… good. That bothered him. If killing felt good, then that meant that he was capable of doing awful things, things like what those men had done, and then what would Emma think of him? Emma. Why did he think of her now! It was dark in the tent and Keither had fallen asleep as soon as he was lying down, and Kovos would have too, but now he was thinking about her. “I wonder what she’s doing,” he thought. “No, don’t think about it.” But how could he not? Wha
t if it had been her on the ground having some sub-human on her?
He understood then why he didn’t feel bad for killing the men. He didn’t feel bad because it was justifiable to kill them in his mind. “But is it ok to kill people even if they deserve it?” came a voice in his head. Who was he to judge others, who was he to decide who lived and died? But at the same time, he knew these men killed and raped, and who knows what else, so maybe it was ok. Either way it didn’t matter. It was done and it wouldn’t do to dwell on it. They did what they had to do and that was that. At the same time he was surprised at how protective of Sasha he was. Sure, he’d beaten people up for giving her a hard time, but that was for his friend. Today he wasn’t killing entirely for protection. He wanted to punish them for what they were going to do to her and what they had done to probably many women. Sasha was a good person, and when he thought about it, how could demons posses her? Could a demon live in someone like that? Great, now he was never going to sleep. His mind was starting to run. Maybe he could get some air. That might help.
He got up and went outside. Arkin was at the fire poking it with a stick. He turned to look at him. “Is everything ok?” he said in a soft voice.
“Yeah I think so. I just can’t sleep, you?”
“I’m fine. I can stay up all night and be good to go tomorrow. You did well today. I mean that.”
“Thanks. You did well yourself. So what happens now? What do we become?”
Arkin gave a deep sigh. “That will be up to you, I think. Let’s not talk about that now. Let’s talk about something that will put you to sleep,” he said with a smile.
Kovos laughed. “Ok, why don’t you tell me about some table or something you’re making.”
“Low blow from someone that hits things with a hammer for a living,” Arkin retorted. He always enjoyed picking on the carpenter for his craft. He knew Arkin was good at what he did, but Arkin worked with wood and Kovos with metal, so there was a bit of a rivalry. They both liked to talk about what it was like making something with your hands, something that people could use for generations, like those swords. They talked for about an hour before Kovos got tired and went to bed.