Frey (8 page)

“
I will ride with you as far
north as Naraguah and then make my way east to trade with the imps
at Bray,” Steed said to Chevelle.

I swung a shocked look at Chevelle, who
simply nodded to Steed in reply. My eyes followed the exchange and
I was staring, completely confused, at Steed. He saw my face and
gave an admonishing look to Chevelle as he clicked his heels and
his horse shot past us, its black tail whipping fiercely
behind.

“
North?” I asked.

Chevelle looked back at me, his calm a
complete contradiction to my response.

“
You aren’t taking me back?
You are going…
we
are going north?”

“
I’m sorry, Freya. I let you
down at the creek.” His gaze fell to my hands. I remembered my
burnt palms and instinctively closed them into fists. “I was
distracted. I should have been paying closer attention, I should
have prevented this.” Regret was thick in his voice. I stared at
him, confused. “It’s too late now. You’ll never rest until you’ve
followed the map.”

He was wrong; I’d completely forgotten my
plans, surrendered to my captor.

“
Yes,” I stated
boldly.
Yes
.

I smiled and clicked my heels hard. I gripped
the saddle with all my might as the horse ran forward. I’d never
actually ridden a horse; there weren’t any in the village and I’d
only seen them from the occasional visitor. Most elves didn’t need
horses; they could walk or run where they needed to go. He was huge
and I could feel how powerful he was as the ground rushed beneath
us. We were gaining on Steed as I glanced over my shoulder at
Chevelle, who was running, but not with the same determination I
had. I looked forward again, wind whipping hair in my face, and we
had caught Steed, who gave me a wide smile as we came up beside
him.

“
Enjoying the
beast?”

I smiled in return, but as
we started to pass him, I realized I didn’t know how to slow down.
I didn’t know how to stop.
For nuts’ sake,
I don’t know how to
ride. I stared back at
Steed, the exhilaration gone, and he recognized panic.

At once, my horse slowed and fell in beside
his, our legs almost touching as they ran in tandem. “Never
ridden?”

“
No.” My voice was
shaky.

“
We only train them with
commands for the imps, just use your magic.”

I thought of the horse bursting into flames.
“I haven’t learned animal magic.”

He looked at me as if I were
a talking elm. “Just
feel
it, Elfreda.” I ignored the slight annoyance that
Chevelle must have told him my name that way instead of Frey or
Freya.

“
I don’t understand,” I
complained.

“
You don’t
learn
magic, it’s part of
you. Feel it. Think about what you want the horse to do.” My
confusion must have still been evident. “It’s like a muscle. You
didn’t think about lifting your leg to get on the horse, you just
knew you wanted to climb on and your leg lifted.”

Chevelle had caught us now, riding up as
Steed was finishing his explanation. He was angry. “This isn’t the
time for a magic lesson.” Our horses slowed to a walk in tandem as
he shot Steed a serious glare.

As we slowed, I remembered the fire in the
clearing, my lessons with Chevelle. It had been so obvious with the
fire, I guessed because I had used it for so long. “What about your
hands?” I asked.

“
What do you mean?” Steed
answered, ignoring Chevelle’s warning glance.

“
Why do you use your hands,
if you just think it, I mean?”

He laughed. “That’s simply a
quirk, I guess; a funny habit. Like when you’re playing flip ball
and you want your piece to go in so bad you
lean
hard to ‘help’ it in.”

I remembered the game from when I’d first
come to the village. The children would be bound from magic and
have to use their physical skills to throw an odd-shaped piece into
the corresponding hole on a game board placed several yards away.
They would lean forward after they threw, sometimes bouncing and
chanting, “come on… come on”, sometimes tilting sideways at the
waist and twisting like somehow wishing would make the ball
respond. The game held no interest for me. I didn’t have to be
bound to not have magic, it wasn’t a novelty, it was everyday
life.

“
We should stop for
breakfast,” Chevelle stated firmly.

We hadn’t been riding more than a few minutes
but he was adamant. I didn’t really mind, I’d been eating berries
for too long and I wasn’t quite sure about riding yet.

“
I suppose you’re right…
might as well enjoy the journey.” Steed winked at me. We stopped
under the canopy of a large tree and Steed grabbed me as I slid
down off the horse. “You may ask him to kneel, Elfreda.” But he
didn’t seem to mind handling me about the waist to help me
down.

I brushed the hair back from my face. “Yes,
well, I guess I should start practicing.” I noticed the fire
Chevelle was building flare and then die down to the proper
size.

“
Sit, Elfreda,” Chevelle
commanded.

Steed followed me as I walked to a fallen
limb by the fire and sat. He sat as well, apparently not concerned
about who was finding us breakfast. Irritation rolled off Chevelle
as he concentrated before running into the tree line to the west.
In a moment he was back, carrying three large birds.

“
Where is your bow?” I
asked.

Steed laughed loudly. “She’s a hoot!”

Chevelle looked as though he could be in
danger of losing his temper. I didn’t get the joke.

“
You’re
serious
?” Steed wasn’t laughing now.
He gaped at Chevelle. “What, she’s a
bright
lighter
?”

Chevelle was across the gap
and in his face almost before Steed could stand. I started to
respond but a screeching siren pierced my ears and I doubled over,
boxing my hands to cover them. It was inside,
inside my ears
.

I tried to open my eyes,
hoping someone would be there to help me, but I could see through
the slits they were just standing face to face… arguing? Did they
not
see
me? I tried
to scream for help but couldn’t get the sound out. They were
leaning toward each other, oblivious to me. I closed my eyes and
curled into a ball as the seconds dragged on. Would I
die
?

And then, abruptly, it stopped.

I sucked in a ragged breath.
I
seemed
fine, a
little dizzy maybe. I risked unclenching my body to look around,
expecting someone to be leaning over me, trying to help. Nothing. I
straightened to a sitting position. Chevelle was at the fire,
roasting the birds. Steed was beside his horse, adjusting the
saddle. Both had their backs turned to me. Had they not
noticed
? A wave of vertigo
hit me and I leaned back against the tree limb to steady
myself.

I thought it was only for a moment, but when
I opened my eyes again the scene had changed.

Steed was reclined beside me, lazily winding
a feather in his hand. Chevelle was across the fire. He looked up
at me through his lashes, past furrowed brow. He brought me a piece
of meat.

It was cold.

I sat there stunned. Had they nothing to say?
Had they seriously not known? I started to speak but the words
wouldn't come out. I was too drained for explanations, and I was
scared. I didn't know what had happened, what was wrong with me.
And I didn't know if Chevelle would take me straight back to the
village if he knew.

We stayed there for some time, Chevelle and
Steed seemed in no hurry. Chevelle glanced at me occasionally but
kept himself busy around the fire.

Steed still played with his feather,
eventually entertaining me with it. It spun toward me, and turned
down, tickling my arm and then my nose. I giggled despite my
wariness, and reached up to rub my nose where the tickle had been.
I noticed the map on my palms. “What about spells?”

He eyed my hands. “Been working spells?”

“
Not on purpose.”

He smiled. “Yes, spells can be
dangerous.”

“
Yes,” I agreed, “but why do
you need words for spells and not magic?”

“
A spell can be left, set
with a trigger, or larger than your magic. They are complicated and
wicked things. And the ancient language is… tricky. Definitely
something you should stay away from. Years of learning and practice
and you can still wreck a spell pretty good.”

I thought about that for a moment and then,
suddenly, Steed jumped up.

“
What do you say we water
the horses?” He wore a wild smirk as he held out a hand for
me.

I didn’t have to ask my horse to kneel; Steed
just grabbed my waist and threw me up. He was mounted before I had
settled into the saddle and our horses took off, galloping north in
synchronization. I looked back for Chevelle. He was standing in his
saddle, leaning forward, as his stallion raced to catch us.

We were covering distance so
quickly I could barely take in the new surroundings. It wasn’t long
before we were coming up on a large creek. I assumed Steed had
control of my horse; I was simply concentrating on staying in the
saddle as we ran beside him. The horses edged closer to the creek,
splashing along the muddy bank and then the shallows of the water.
Silt and cold water sprayed my face as we ran. I wondered if this
was what it felt like to fly like the fairies. We followed the
creek until it turned west and we kept north, slowing to a walk. I
tried to catch my breath. Steed was watching me, smiling
appreciatively, and I realized I was wearing a huge grin.
And surely three pounds of mud
.

The slow pace gave me time
to look around. The ground had leveled off again, clearing to open
meadows of low grass and a few scattered trees. Large gray rocks
dotted the landscape. There was a haziness on the horizon but as we
kept riding I could start to see clearer. A mammoth lake lay ahead,
a hundred times bigger than the tiny forest ponds I was used to. It
was as smooth as glass and behind it the haze cleared just enough I
could see the outline of mountains.
Mountains
.

Chevelle rode up beside us. “The hills of
Camber.” I looked at him, he seemed peaceful now. We rode closer,
our horses in a quiet row.

When we reached the lake, the horses stopped
and I realized I had forgotten I was riding. The mountains and lake
were almost too much to take in; none of it seemed real. Chevelle
was next to me before Steed had the chance this time. As my horse
knelt, he held out his hand and I stepped down beside him. The
three stallions followed Steed to a nearby tree and I watched as he
fed them apples from its branches.

I looked back to Chevelle.
He was watching me. I wanted to ask him if this was where he was
from but he and the setting seemed so serene I was afraid to
disturb it. I looked again out over the lake to the mountains. If I
was incarcerated for a thousand years in the village, I would want
this memory. I breathed deep; the air was cool, moist, and smelled
so unlike the harsh floral scents that saturated every part of the
village. I could smell the deep green moss covering the rocks at my
feet, the fir trees that edged the east bank, even the soil smelled
richer. My eyes were closed as I took it in. I felt something brush
my cheek.
Chevelle
.
I opened my eyes and realized he had brushed debris from my face. I
wiped a hand across my forehead and felt the dried mud crumble
away. I looked down; it was caked on the fabric of my pants and
splattered about everywhere.

I walked to the edge of the
water and then in, clothes and all, until I was waist deep. I
relaxed and fell back, gliding under the dark cool water and
floating back to the surface. I marveled at the size of the
mountains as they seemed to dissolve into the blue haze of the
sky.
Would this ever seem real?

Eventually, I made my way
back. I was surprised to find a shelter had already been set up for
me.
Thank goodness
.
I hadn’t considered wet clothes and cool air as I floated in the
water. Chevelle nodded toward the hut as he prepared a fire. When I
entered I found my blankets were on a raised bed of birch branches
and a small flame lit the room. My pack lay on the bed, along with
a pile of material. I examined the material and was relieved to
discover it was a stack of dry clothes.

As I pulled on the gray
pants I wondered if Chevelle had made the first set, not Junnie as
I had assumed. Or maybe she had packed extra for me.
Why hadn’t I considered he’d still be following
me?
The shirt was fitted to my shape but of
a heavier fabric and a pair of boots was at the bottom of the
stack; it must be colder in the mountains. I remembered stepping
out of the cold wet gown on the bank of the creek and dressing in
the new clothes, finding the scroll, the map. Chevelle's words came
back to me
... I’m sorry, Freya… I let you
down at the creek… I was distracted… should have been paying closer
attention… should have prevented this… too late
now
.

The smell of cooked meat cut
through my thoughts. I ran a hand through my wet hair and walked
out to the fire. The scene wasn’t any less impressive this time. I
sat on a large rock facing the lake and Chevelle brought me a plate
of food and sat beside me. He’d apparently been gathering while I
bathed. We had a feast. Steed tore a piece of meat from the spit
and sat to my other side as we ate quietly looking out across the
lake…
to the mountains
.