Frey by Melissa Wright
Chapter Seven
Steed
The early morning sun streaked through every break in the makeshift door, lighting the entirety of the hollow. I considered covering my head with that damp dress and sleeping the rest of the day, but my stomach ached for food and Chevelle might not be far behind. I crawled out, rubbing and squinting my eyes, and was able to locate a few roots and greens. It would have to be enough to tide me over until I could figure out a way to hunt.
After knocking the brush away from my shelter, I slung the pack over my shoulder and trudged north once more. There was an abundance of streams running through the hills, and a few patches of fat, amethyst berries along the way, so I couldn’t complain. And the route was undemanding; the ground was smooth, nothing too overgrown to make passage difficult, none of those nasty snarls that could form from a maze of thorn trees or the network of vines that could tangle your legs. The grass was tall, but soft, so it rolled over, hiding no more than the occasional field mouse or vole. Sporadic wildflowers dotted the hills, small sprays of pinks or spiky yellowbird. The sky was cloudless and blue, the sun a constant companion as I carried on through the days and hills.
Each new day was something unexpected, and the trip became less daunting than it might have otherwise been. I was moving every moment of light, and so exhaustion pulled me into sleep every moment of darkness. I concentrated on each step, breathing in the new scents, counting trees, anything I could to keep myself on task and the past out of mind.
I was counting fallen catclaw seeds when I crested another hill and spotted a bridge in the valley. I hesitated, slowly making my way down. A bridge might mean a village was nearby, and a village meant elves. I didn’t want to get caught, not after all this, so I was fully prepared to run by the time I reached the crossing. Its stacked gray stones were bulkier than those that had been appearing more frequently on my path. Water flowed beneath, smoothing the stones at the base. They were so worn, it must have been in place for centuries.
The leather soles of my shoes skimmed over ancient stone, the bridge curving gently before flattening out into a worn dirt path on the other side. It was more traveled than I would have liked, so I swung wide, through the trees instead. The wind shifted and the scent of roasting meat assaulted me, dragging my attention, my feet, its way. Despite my concerns about other elves, my stomach tightened, my mouth watering as I followed it through the trees.
They broke into a small clearing, and there in the center stood a cloaked figure, kneeling down as he turned a meat-covered spit. Pressed tight behind an oak tree, I shuffled sideways to get a better view. I was sure it was an elf, male, from his size. The smell of real food was consuming, and I was watching the cooked meat roll over the flame as I moved again. A dry leaf crushed beneath my foot.
“Come then, there’s plenty for both of us,” the figure called.
I cursed. Caught, I walked cautiously out of the trees. He turned, tossing the cloak aside as he propped one leg onto a rock. I had the strangest notion he was posing. He scrutinized me, and I resisted the urge to straighten my hair and brush the dirt from my clothes.
“Don’t be shy.” The stranger beckoned, gesturing to an upturned log beside the fire. The meat sizzled and popped as I crossed to him and sat obediently. It was too late to hide; I might as well at least have something decent to eat.
Its smell was unfamiliar, but I didn’t care. It smelled like food. He reached down and tore a hunk from the spit, tossing it to me with a wink. When I blushed, he smiled a wicked smile. My mouth went dry. He was tall and broad with dark hair and eyes. Like Chevelle. Handsome too, I supposed, though I could tell even from these few gestures he was a bit cocky. He reminded me of Evelyn, always so proud of herself for finding me out.
The stranger watched me as I ate. When I devoured the first piece, he laughed and threw me another. I hoped I looked appropriately abashed. As I finished the second serving, he stepped closer to sit on the misshapen rock that rose through the earth beside me. He held his hand wide and a canteen flew up from a pile of things on the other side of the fire. He passed it to me, and I tilted it back, expecting cool water. I almost choked when warm wine hit my throat. He leaned forward to get a better look at me as I lowered the container.
He looked as if he thought I might spook, otherwise I guessed he had plenty to say hidden beneath that smirk. It didn’t stop him from moving uncomfortably close, though, or eyeing me with what I was certain was the same look I’d just given my meal. I cleared my throat, thinking I’d made my sense of discomfort clear when he started to move, but he only stood, which brought him even closer. Well, parts of him.
I turned toward the fire, tugging the pack tight against my shoulder as I prepared for a graceful exit. For departure from food and warmth.
I jumped a little when the first tree uprooted across the clearing. It was only a sapling, but the second and third tree followed.
“You look like you’ll need shelter, sunshine,” he explained.
I stared in disbelief as the trees split to form a low lean-to. He shot me another wink; I couldn’t be sure he was kidding. The tearing and popping noises ceased, and I examined his creation. Quite impressive really. He didn’t even seem to be watching, let alone concentrating. And no blessings on it, no thanks to Mother Earth. It seemed he was just enjoying himself, not being responsible to the magic.
Magic that I needed. That I wanted. He was good enough, there was no question of that. He’d definitely be able to teach me. I started to ask, but fell short. I had no idea who this was and I probably shouldn’t let on who I was.
He noticed my open mouth, blank expression, and sat again, eyeing me questioningly, all humor gone.
“You seem to be really good at magic,” I offered.
He chuckled. “Is that so?”
“Yes, well, I… I need to learn.”
“Learn?” The humor was gone again. “What do you mean learn?”
“I’ve never, well, except for fire, and I need someone to teach me… and you’re…” I waved a hand in his direction.
His brow rose. “I don’t understand,” he said, clearly concerned about my mental state. Maybe I was a few nuts short of a bushel.
“I’ve lost my mentor. Can you teach me magic? Help me, so I don’t do something out of order, hurt myself?”
His eyebrows drew down, coming together as he began his reply, but a fallen branch cracked at the edge of the clearing and his head snapped toward it. I sucked in a harsh breath as Chevelle strode toward us. The elf who had been sitting with me was now in a fiercely protective stance in front of me. I leaned around him to see, placing my hand on his leg as I angled my head past it. That broke his stare and he glanced down at me.
I watched Chevelle, still walking casually toward us, as if there weren’t two angry panthers preparing to pounce on him. But I must have appeared about as threatening as a kitten, because the leg I was gripping shook with laughter. My angry gaze turned on my new acquaintance and he raised his hands in surrender, still chuckling.
“I take it you know him?” he asked.
“He’s following me,” I announced, too loud.
His eyes were concerned, so I let down my guard, moving to stand behind him. Chevelle approached us, staring directly at me as if there were not the broad, tall form of the stranger between us. He let me see his irritation for one long moment before his features melted back into their standard sternness. For some reason, it infuriated me, and I nearly berated him right there. But I remembered I was on the run. I remembered this strange elf in front of me. I decided to keep my mouth shut before I dug a deeper hole.
An arm wrapped around my shoulder and drew me forward. “Introduce us, buttercup.” I grimaced. My companion was certainly enjoying himself.
Chevelle held his hand out in a formal greeting. “Chevelle Vattier.”
“Vattier, eh?” I thought I heard the stranger mutter under his breath, “Well, you can call me Bonnie Bell.” Chevelle waited unmove
They shot me a glare as my giggle slipped out.
Steed stared at me. He especially didn’t seem to think it was funny. “Our lineage is long and we breed the best stallions in the land.”
Chevelle spoke up. “Yes, I have heard much regarding the lines of Free Runner and Grand Spirit. Tell me, is that what brings you out this far?”
They carried on the exchange and Chevelle explained we’d be needing horses. I sat back down, defeated. This was it. He was here to drag me back to the village. For my sentence by council. I listened as plans were made for a trade, Steed agreeing to bring in the herd so Chevelle would be able to choose in the morning. They kept talking, settling into conversation. Steed offered Chevelle what was left of the roast and they sat, Chevelle beside me and Steed across from us.
I picked up the canteen and choked down more wine.
The evening carried on and though the conversation still held a formal tone, neither man talking of anything personal, they seemed to be getting along. I faded in and out of the various discussions, listening occasionally but never talking. Steed seemed very aware of me, watching me in a way no one ever had. It must have been obvious, because when he excused himself to check the herd, Chevelle studied me, sliding a strand of my now-black hair through his fingers. “It suits you.”
It was a familiar gesture and it should have made me flinch. Maybe it was the wine, but as I looked at him, my anger was fading. The way he’d reacted when Fannie had struck me, the caress against my cheek, those were not the actions of a council elder. As we sat so near, it was hard to believe the concern wasn’t real. His eyes burned with intensity; they seemed even darker now. Dark… like mine.
I looked away.
Steed broke in through the trees, gesturing toward the direction he’d come from. “They aren’t far. Ready and able for a morning adventure.” As he approached, he glanced at me and then Chevelle, still close beside me. “We can get an early start.” He lifted a pack from beside the fire and said, “Bluebell?”
I stood, following this stranger without question, not missing the irritation on Chevelle’s face. He unclasped the pack to roll the blankets out with a flip, smiling and nodding good evening before stepping away from my hastily constructed hut. I unlaced my vest and threw it down, kicked off my shoes and fell into the blankets, stretching happily to finally have something like an actual bed. The conversation outside quieted and I slipped off to sleep, trying not to think about my capture and coming return to the village.
“Freya.”
A low voice broke into my dreams of gently rolling hills and soft gray stone. I peered through slitted eyes to see Chevelle standing outside the entrance, back to me as he watched a dull red horizon. I sat up, lacing the vest over the thin material of my blouse, and slid on my shoes to join him.
“It’s dawn,” I complained.
“And good morning, sunshine,” Steed called from atop a large, black stallion. The beast’s nostrils flared, breath steaming in the cool morning air. Two more of the animals pawed in the distance behind him. Steed chirped a whistle and they walked forward, the slim, muscular one moving to stand beside Chevelle as a mammoth crossed in front of me and knelt. I drew in a startled breath at the sheer size and nearness of it.
Steed shot me a mischievous wink. “Well?”
I was speechless, mouth agape. The thing seemed as large and black as a starless night. Steed was pleased with my reaction, but Chevelle’s eyes rolled heavenward. He didn’t comment, though, simply holding out a hand to help me mount before swinging onto his own.
“I will ride with you as far north as Naraguah and then make my way east to trade with the imps at Bray,” Steed told Chevelle.
I swung a shocked look at my watcher, who simply nodded. Steed saw my confusion and gave a disapproving glance in Chevelle’s direction. He sat straighter, leaving me alone with Chevelle as rider and horse shot past us, a long black tail whipping in their wake.
I stared at Chevelle. “North?”
He looked back at me, his calm a contradiction to the thundering beat of my heart.
“You aren’t taking me back? You are going… we are going north?”
“I’m sorry, Freya,” he said. “I let you down at the creek.” His gaze fell to my hands, which closed instinctively into fists, protecting the newly-scarred palms. “I was distracted. I should have been paying closer attention. I should have prevented this.” Regret was thick in his voice. I could only stare at him, mystified. He explained, “It’s too late now. You’ll never rest until you’ve followed the map.”
He was wrong; I’d forgotten my plans, surrendered to my captor. I had thought it was over.
“Yes,” I answered boldly, the word echoing with the thrum of my pulse. It made no sense, but I didn’t take the time to think it through, didn’t give him a chance to change his mind. I smiled, kicking my heels hard into the horse’s sides.
The animal jolted forward. I gripped the saddle with all my might as its hooves cut the earth. I’d never ridden a horse. There weren’t any near the village and I’d only ever seen one from the occasional visitor. This beast was huge and I could feel his power as the ground rushed beneath us. We were gaining on Steed as I glanced over my shoulder to find Chevelle, his horse running, but not with the same determination as mine. Wind whipped my hair as we caught Steed, who gave me a wide smile and edged beside us.
“Enjoying the beast?”
I smiled in return, but as the horse kept up speed, we started to pass him, and I realized I didn’t know how to slow down. I didn’t know how to stop. For nuts’ sake, I didn’t know how to ride. My head jerked back to find Steed, the exhilaration replaced by fear.
Recognizing my panic, he let out a short, sharp whistle and the horse slowed at once, falling in beside his. Our legs almost touched as the animals loped in tandem. “Never ridden?”
“No.” My voice was shaky, along with my hands and legs.
“We only train them with commands for the imps. Just use your magic.”
I tamped down an image of the horse bursting into flames. “I haven’t learned animal magic.”
His lip pursed, one brow dropping low, the same strange look he’d given the first time I’d mentioned learning magic. “Just feel it, Elfreda.” I ignored the slight annoyance that Chevelle must have told him my full name.
“I don’t understand,” I told him.
“You don’t learn magic,” Steed said. “It’s a part of you. Feel it. Think about what you want the horse to do.” My confusion must have still been evident. He shook his head. “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 caught us then, riding up and cutting off Steed’s explanation with a clipped, “This isn’t the time for a magic lesson.”
All three horses slowed to a walk as Chevelle shot Steed a glance. I could only think of our lessons, of the fire in the clearing. It had been so obvious once Chevelle had urged me to control a stronger flame, I guessed because I had been using the power in small doses for so long. “What about your hands?” I asked.
“What do you mean?” Steed said, 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. Habit. Like when you’re playing flip ball and you want your piece to go in so bad you lean hard to ‘help’ it.”
I remembered the game from when I’d first come to the village. The children would be bound from magic and have to throw an odd-shaped piece into the corresponding hole on a game board across from them. They would lean forward after they threw, sometimes bouncing and chanting, “Come on, come on,” twisting like somehow wishing would make the ball respond. The game had held no interest for me. I didn’t have to be bound to not have magic. It wasn’t a novelty, it was everyday
“We should stop for breakfast,” Chevelle said.
We hadn’t been riding long, but it wasn’t a suggestion. I didn’t mind; I’d eaten mostly berries for days and I wasn’t quite sure about riding yet.
“I suppose you’re right. Might as well enjoy the journey,” Steed said, throwing me a private grin.
We stopped under the canopy of a red oak and Steed grabbed me as I slid awkwardly from the horse. “You may ask him to kneel, Elfreda.” Not that he appeared to mind handling me about the waist to help me down.
Looking up at him, I pushed the hair away from my face. “Yes, well, I guess I should start practicing.”
Heat brushed my skin as the fire Chevelle was building flared. It returned to its proper size and Chevelle commanded, “Sit, Elfreda.”
Steed followed as I walked to a fallen limb by the fire and settled atop the widest part, drawing my legs up from the ground. He sat as well, apparently not concerned about who was finding us breakfast.
Irritation rolled off Chevelle as he ran into the thick line of trees that bordered the clearing. In only a moment he was back, carrying three large, white birds.
“Where is your bow?” I asked.
Steed’s laugh was loud. “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 said, humor vanished as 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 jerked back in response, but a screeching siren pierced my ears and I doubled over, covering them. It was inside, a screaming, terrible howl coming from my ears.
I tried to force my eyes open, hoping someone would help me, but they were just standing there, chest to chest, arguing. Did they not see me? I ached to scream for help, but couldn’t get a sound out, couldn’t breathe. They leaned toward each other, oblivious to anything else. My eyes closed as I curled into a ball. The seconds dragged on and I began to wonder if I would die.
And then it stopped.
I sucked in a ragged breath, then another. I seemed fine, maybe a little dizzy, but otherwise it was gone. Unclenching my body, I looked around, expecting someone to be leaning over me, attempting to help. But nothing appeared out of place. I pushed up on shaky limbs. Chevelle was by the fire, preparing to roast the birds. Steed stood beside his horse, adjusting the saddle’s straps. Both had their backs turned to me as if they’d not even noticed.
A wave of vertigo hit when I tried to speak and I fell back against the tree limb to steady myself. It seemed only a moment, but when my eyes opened again the scene had changed.
Steed reclined beside me, elbow resting on a bent knee as he lazily wound a feather in his hand. Chevelle was across the fire. He looked up at me through his lashes, past his furrowed brow, and then brought me a piece of meat. It was cold.
I sat stunned. Had they nothing to say? Had they actually not known? I wanted to scream, but the words wouldn’t come. I was too drained. And I was scared. I didn’t know what had happened, what was wrong with me, but I was certain whatever it was, Chevelle would take me straight back to the village.
We stayed there for some time, a fact for which I was grateful. Even though whatever had happened seemed to have passed, neither man seemed in a hurry to go. 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 plume had brushed it. 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. Steed jumped up. He held out a hand to me. “What do you say we water the horses?”
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 leaning forward, legs nearly straight in the stirrups 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 came up on a wide 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 about three pounds of mud.
The slower pace gave me time to take everything in. 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 rode it began to clear, revealing a mammoth lake ahead. It was a hundred times bigger than the tiny forest ponds I was used to, as smooth as glass. Behind it the haze thinned just enough I could see the outline of mountains.
The image was like a punch in the chest. Chevelle rode up beside us. “The hills of Camber.”
I looked at him, my watcher, and thought his features were peaceful for the first time. Junnie had said he was from the North, and I wondered if this was his home. Maybe that was why he’d truly brought me here, a much-needed vacation from the duties of council, the task of being a watcher. They’d never know, as long as he got me back soon.
When we reached the lake, the horses stopped and in the quiet shadow of this dreamlike encounter, I forgot I was riding. The mountains and lake were almost too much to take in; none of it seemed real. This time, Chevelle was next to me before Steed had the chance. As my horse knelt, he held out his hand and I stepped down beside him. The three stallions followed Steed to a nearby tree where he fed them small green-skinned apples from its branches.
I glanced back to Chevelle. He was watching me. I wanted to ask if this was where he was from, but was afraid to set off any conversation that might end with me being hauled back to council that much quicker.
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 sense 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, and a soft touch brushed my cheek. Chevelle.
I opened my eyes and realized he had swept debris from my face. I wiped a hand across my forehead and dried mud crumbled away. I looked down; it was caked on the fabric of my pants and splattered nearly everywhere.
Moving to the edge of the bank to walk in, clothes and all, I waded out until I was waist deep and then relaxed, falling back and gliding under the dark water before it lifted me to float at the surface. The water covered my ears, lapping at my mouth and chin, and I stared upward, marveling at the size of the mountains as they seemed to dissolve into the blue haze of the sky. I wondered if it would ever seem real.
Eventually, I made my way back, wrapping my arms around myself to control the shivers. I was surprised and more than a little grateful to find a shelter had already been set up for me. The idea of being
As I tugged off my soaked pants to exchange them for the new ones, I wondered if Chevelle had brought both sets or if they’d been packed by Junnie in that small, strange village. I couldn’t fathom why I hadn’t considered he’d so easily be able to follow me when I’d run from there, how I’d been oblivious to the dangers of being caught.
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 much colder in the mountains. It reminded me of stepping out of the cold wet gown on the bank of the creek, finding the scroll, the map. Chevelle’s words echoed in my mind. 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, and I sat on one of the large, flat rocks facing the lake. Chevelle brought me a plate of food, settling in beside me. There were berries and roots, and a rich, savory meat that dripped onto my hands as I tore into it. It was a feast compared to what I’d been eating. And even though he was my watcher, my captor, I had to admit I felt less alone with Chevelle there.
Steed pulled his own ration from the spit and sat on my other side as we all watched the surface of the lake. And beyond it, mountains.
The mountains at dawn were so much more intimidating and I was hesitant to leave our camp. Everything had begun to seem real. I tried to distract myself as we rode east around the lake, attempting to name the species of plants as Junnie might have made me, but there were so many I had never seen that it started to remind me of the difference rather than distract me from it. So I bantered with Steed regarding horses and imps and everything I could come up with to keep him talking. Chevelle rode quietly behind us, scanning our surroundings. I wasn’t sure if he was enjoying the scenery or playing lookout.
We rode a few days into the base of the mountains. We had stopped to camp when, over dinner, Steed announced he would be leaving us the next morning, heading east. His easy humor had become a comfort to me during the long days, our quiet evenings a pattern I knew I would miss. The disappointment must have shown on my face.
He reached a hand up and brushed my hair behind an ear. “Don’t worry, sunshine, I will see you again.”
I smiled a little and he winked at me. Chevelle stiffened at my side as he often did when Steed touched me so casually, and I couldn’t help but think of being alone with him after tonight. My stomach tightened and suddenly in comparison the mountains didn’t seem like such a big deal.
The next morning Steed said goodbye privately to Chevelle and then came to where I stood with the horses, stroking one’s neck. “You’ll remember me, butterfly?”
I smiled in return. “Always.”
“Yes, well, at least as long as he’s yours.” He patted the horse.
“Mine?”
He smiled and swung onto his horse, nodding farewell as he spun and galloped east.
My horse knelt and Chevelle offered his hand to help me get seated. My grin widened as he mounted his horse and he looked back at me questioningly.
“I’ll name him Steed,” I announced proudly. Chevelle pressed his eyes closed, shaking his head as I patted the horse’s neck once more.