Frey (6 page)

I laid the soiled documents
on my lap and unbound the laces. I couldn't believe what I was
reading was true, but there it was, the ancient parchment against
the smudged white fabric of my skirt, letters on the page as real
and words as patent as could be. Details of a trial, and not
only
a trial, a punishment
assigned as a result. The punishment of Francine Katteryn Glaforia,
found guilty of practicing dark magic.

Her sentence included some
sort of service to her community and a spell binding her from using
magic of any kind except practical. I was dumbfounded. I had never
considered it before but as I thought about it, searching for proof
the documents were wrong, I realized Aunt Fannie had never used
magic for anything but service. It hadn’t seemed unusual to me, it
was just the way it had always been and I could barely do anything
besides light a candle. Was this why council was so quick to accuse
me of practicing dark magic? It was rarely even discussed and never
tolerated.
What had Fannie done?

I kept flipping through the pages and then I
realized something was out of place. It didn't make sense official
documents about Fannie would be among those relating the apparent
extinction of the northern clans. And why had all the documents I’d
found about the tragedy been separated, mixed up, and missing
pages? I tried to sort it out and found there were other council
documents there too.

I kept reading, quickly
scanning the pages for something of interest. My eyes caught it a
second before my brain; I recognized a name… Chevelle Vattier. I
backed up and read. Shock and disbelief turned to fury before I
could even finish the page. Chevelle Vattier had been a volunteer
watcher. He had volunteered to watch…
me?

Anger flooded through me and
the pages I held burst into flames. The brush around me caught and
burned away as I stood and pushed out of the blazing patch of
briars. They had set a watcher on me. Why? Because Fannie had
practiced dark magic? Were they afraid she’d teach me? I’d
show
them
dark
magic… I’d learn and go back… how? How could I learn without a
teacher?

Chevelle… the fire suddenly
died as I thought of the concern he’d shown me in the clearing, the
tender moment we’d shared.
Watcher
. The flames caught again,
burning with a vengeance through the field. None of it had been
real. He was a watcher, he’d
volunteered
to watch me, to keep me in
line.

I’d teach myself, take the risk and learn the
magic without guidance. What did I have to lose? The plan was
formed now, I’d practice until I was strong enough to return to the
village. Wasting no time, I spotted a small toad and concentrated
on it, willing it to turn to a moth. It started to swell like a
tiny green balloon and then burst, spewing entrails that reached
the hem of my dress.

Ugh
.

It took a while, but the
anger eventually faded enough I realized I’d need a new plan. I
regretted the flames had consumed the documents that had caused all
this to begin with. I should have fully read them
first
.

I heard a noise across the
clearing. My fire had burned out now but the ashes were plenty
evidence I’d been here. I ducked under the cover of a large spruce
and watched in the direction the noise had come from. Chevelle
walked through the tree line.
Grrr
... He was alone.. He kept walking
as he looked my direction; he was surveying the damage from the
fire. I was sure he’d know it was me but he didn’t stop or even
slow. I wondered why he didn’t, was he not looking for
me?

I knew Chevelle was my
watcher and now I was missing. So where would he be going? I
remembered that before I torched his paperwork I had seen Junnie
noted as his contact. Would he be going to her, to get her help in
finding me? He was my watcher, I’d be his responsibility, and she
was the only one who knew me besides Fannie. He was a good fifty
yards farther as I considered. I started to follow him. How far
should I go? What if he wasn’t going to Junnie?
What else do you have to do, sit here and blow up
frogs?
Right. I slinked out from the
branches of the spruce and crept low along the trees and brush as I
followed him north.

Chapter Six

Trails

Chevelle kept a quick pace
and I found myself struggling to keep up. Although he didn’t have
to dodge between rocks and trees, bent over while watching the
ground to keep from breaking twigs and watching ahead to keep from
being spotted.
Ugh, when would it ever
end?
I cursed the formal dress I’d been
dragging. I considered dumping it but didn’t think it was the best
idea to be sneaking around the forest naked. I thought about
ripping the excess material off but Chevelle’s movement wasn’t
leaving me time for that.

Just before nightfall, he approached a small
village. It didn’t look like more than half a dozen structures
scattered against the base of a large hill. He dropped the simple
pack he’d been carrying beside a tree and hunched down as he slowed
his pace. I wasn’t sure what he was doing until I recognized the
stance. It mirrored mine. He was sneaking.

I couldn’t figure why he
would be stealing into the village as I watched him creep around
the back of a small hut, but I knew if
he
was hiding, I definitely didn’t
want to get caught. He leapt into a rear window and I followed as
low and slow as I could. When I reached the last tree I could use
for cover, I darted up against the hut and tried to peer through a
gap in the twigs. I heard whispers…

“…
you mustn’t let them find
you… shouldn’t have come…” It was dim inside, but I caught a
glimpse of a figure through the wall.
Junnie
.

Chevelle was whispering to her. I couldn’t
quite hear him but he must have given her a short account of the
morning’s events. I moved closer to the window and found a larger
gap there.

“
Were you able to track
her?” Junnie asked in a low voice.

“
Not exactly,” he replied
smoothly. She looked at him questioningly as he glanced around the
room. “She’s following me.”

Heat flooded my face. I couldn’t believe he’d
fooled me again. I didn’t care what else they had to say, I stood
and marched away. I didn’t make it far, I found an old oak tree and
slid down its massive trunk. I was tired, my legs ached from the
trek and my head throbbed from the gnarl of thoughts. But I didn’t
rest. I sat, leaned against the tree, probably looking like a bored
child. I held my hand up and flipped a flame, tossing it up and
down, turning it above my palm. And I was hungry, but I didn’t eat.
Too stubborn and angry to find food, too resentful I didn’t have
the magic to bring it to me. Yes, like a child.

Bright sun and chirping
birds tore into my finally still senses. I squinted my eyes open
and resisted the urge to stop the birds. It was the first time I’d
slept away from my bed; disoriented, I glanced around. It didn’t
help. I’d never been far from home and the new landscape was
unsettling. I looked away. Beside me lay a neatly stacked pile of
fabric topped with a small loaf of bread.
Grrr... stupid watchers
.

A large part of me wanted to burn the pile
right there but my stomach overruled that thought and I reached out
and grabbed the bread. Then, since I had already eaten the bread, I
figured I might as well accept the other gifts and get out of this
ridiculous dress. I listened hard and located the trickling sound
of water. I picked up the pile and followed the sound to a small
creek just a short distance away. I walked down to a little area
where the water had pooled and knelt, leaning over to splash my
face.

Panic shot through me as I saw someone
looking back at me. I started to bolt upright, planning to flee,
but caught myself. The woman in the reflection was me, that was my
dark hair and flushed skin. I cautiously leaned back over the pool.
The water was dark and so I assumed it made the image more
frightening than it was. My eyes couldn’t have been that dark, my
hair almost black. I straightened and held a piece of my hair
forward to examine. It shimmered in the bright sunlight, glossy
black. I dropped my hand away from my hair in distress. Maybe it
was wrong; maybe I could wash it out. I stepped into the pool and
sank down under the water. Maybe I’d just stay under…

The cold water didn’t bring back reason. I
did want to breathe, however, so I stood and walked out. I was
drenched and the water had made the long gown heavy and even more
uncomfortable. I loosened the corset and dropped the dress to my
feet, stepping out of it and onto a rock. I grabbed a shirt from
the pile and slid it over my head. As I pulled on the pants, I
noticed how nice the fabric felt, how good the cut. I laced the
leather vest over the shirt. It seemed they were tailored for me;
I’d never had such luck making my own clothes. These were trim and
fit, much better for traveling. But where was I going? I slid my
shoes on and saw there was a pack in the pile as well. I picked up
the dress, trying to decide what to do with it, and the pouch I had
hidden before the trial lay on the ground.

I tossed the dress over a branch and sat down
on the rock, picking up the small bag. I’d carried it for days now
and I still didn’t know what was inside. I pulled the binding loose
and dumped the contents into my hand. A small dark ruby, a silver
medallion, and a tiny scroll lay in my palm. I held the stone up to
the light. Aside from the depth of color, it didn’t seem
extraordinary. I examined the medallion, but didn’t recognize the
emblems. I dropped them back into the pouch and opened the scroll.
I tried to read the first line of the tiny script, “Fellon Strago
Dreg.”

Electricity shot through my
hands and I dropped the scroll like it was an angry snake. I held
my hands up to inspect, they felt like they had been scorched. I
smelled the unmistakable stench of charred flesh as I turned my
palms inward. There were curving lines and symbols covering them.
No,
burned
into
them. I gasped. I’d been around fire magic for as long as I could
remember. It had never burnt me or any other elf as far as I knew;
it would only burn what it was meant to burn.

I looked back down at the
scroll. I had read the words aloud, the fire magic
was
meant to burn. I
carefully picked it up and rolled it back in place. I would not be
reading from
that
again… I returned it to the pocket and bound the pouch as I
had found it.
Wow
.
I looked back down at my hands, trying to decipher the lines, and I
realized I was looking at a map. Yes, it was burned into my palms,
but it was a map. I wondered why anyone would have a ridiculous
spell like that and then it hit me, I had taken it from the family
vault.

I grabbed the dress off the
tree branch and threw it and the pouch into the pack. Swinging it
around onto my back, I started to run. I didn’t know where I was or
where the map would take me but I knew one thing. There were
mountains burned into my palms and I only knew of one place to find
mountains.
North
.

I couldn’t remember much of life before going
to live with my aunt Fannie. The village and surrounding meadows
and forests were the only home I’d had, the only place I’d actually
known. It wasn’t exactly a comforting place, but there was
something to be said for knowing where you were, where to find
food, shelter, and water. I'd been filled with determination when
I’d started running, concentrating on north and nothing else. But
as I made my way, I realized what a small little terrarium I’d been
living in. The land here had started to roll gently, the trees were
a deeper green and smaller – most wouldn’t have even been suitable
for a single inhabitant, let alone a family. I didn’t think I’d
gone that far, half a day following Chevelle and now today on my
own. I was anxious to see the North.

I glanced down at my palm, reviewing the
symbols again. I thought I had figured out most of the lines,
creeks curving through the landscape. And the mountains were
obvious, but there were still a lot of things I was unsure about,
nervous about. I squeezed my hand closed into a fist and kept
moving.

I tried not to think about
all that had happened, tried not to think about Fannie, not the
trial, not Junnie, and especially not Chevelle.
Not the watcher
. I just kept putting
one foot in front of the other. I couldn’t even imagine what lay in
the mountains where I was heading.

I wasn’t tired today, not as
I had been almost every day lately.
Since
I’d been using magic?
I shook my thoughts
away again, counting steps… I was miles from home. A home I might
never return to.

I forced myself forward
through the day, only stopping momentarily at a patch of berries
and twice to drink. The berries were much less palatable without
the guiding hand of an elf but the stream water was cool and
refreshing. As evening approached I began to get uncomfortable
about the coming darkness, aloneness. Not that I hadn’t spent my
share of time alone at home, just not alone in the middle of a
strange forest, outside,
really
alone. I considered running through the night and
sleeping during the day, but eventually decided to find
shelter
before
nightfall. I slowed my pace and gave my surroundings a little
more attention.