The Seeker's Apprentice (Chapter 4): Haunted
"Everything we hear is an opinion, not a fact. Everything we see is a perspective, not the truth." - Marcus Aurelius
Previously on The Seeker's Apprentice:
Nadira and Jorund have a long journey ahead, making their way to the training center where Nadira will finally see what it's like to live as a Ekzeteo, a monster seeker. Though she never imagined it would mean training with an elf or riding a dragon.
As they continue on, however, she's bothered by an awkward feeling that Jorund refuses to discuss. After all, it is his words that sit heavy in her mind. “There is no room for love.” Still, she can’t shake it.
Chapter 4: Haunted
Atop Virelt’s scarlet hide, her scales rippling gracefully as she tore through the sky, the air thinned, cold.
Yet, with his leather jacket still wrapped around her, her arms holding tight to him, Nadira felt little of the chill that now surrounded them. He radiated heat like there was pure fire running through his veins. She had heard of elven magic, but nothing like this.
The atmosphere was more clouded today, something that seemed to delight Virelt most heartily, swooping through their misty masses like a dolphin among the ocean waves. Of course that meant now they were all just about soaked through. Nadira kept her head tucked behind Jorund's broad shoulder trying to stop the water from getting in her eyes. If it bothered him, he didn't say anything about it. In fact, they had hardly said a word to each other since they left. And that was hours ago now.
When they finally stopped mid day for a short rest, Nadira could sense something was different, though he tried hard to hide it. This time, when she came off the dragon's back, though he still held a hand out to help her, he didn't linger, merely moving on to his sack to fetch her something to eat. When he handed her an apple, he barely looked at her. Not as though he were avoiding her, just…distant. And then there was that pull. That unspoken space that seemed to be growing between them. It was beginning to get under her skin. She needed a distraction.
“You said you were half elf.”
“Aye, my mother,” he replied, adjusting the utility belt on Virelt's side.
“And what of your father? I assume he isn't human.”
He paused, his expression growing dim, “You're right. He wasn't.”
This made her even more curious. She came closer, leaning against Virelt's side. “So, what then?”
He sighed. “An elemental.”
“An elemental? I thought those were just stories. You're saying they're real?”
“I wouldn’t be here if they weren’t.” He stiffened, walking around her to give Virelt a pat. Obviously a touchy subject. But Nadira wasn’t one to back down easily.
“So,” she began, filling her mouth with a chunk of the apple he gave her, “what happened?”
He scoffed. “Do you always ask this many questions?”
“Are you always this defensive?” She took another bite and gave him a look.
“You don’t give up, do you?”
“Oh I’m not above giving up. Though usually it’s only after I get what I want.”
“Figures.”
She stared at him, smirking around each chew, her eyes narrowing.
“What?”
“I’m just trying to picture it— I mean, how would they even— you know. I always thought of elementals as spiritual creatures more than physical beings—“
“They can take human form if they wish.”
“I see. Now that is interesting. And what element did he embody, exactly?”
“Can’t you guess?”
She thought for a moment, remembering how warm he felt pressed against her, how his crimson eyes seemed to flicker with flame. “So that's where it comes from. I knew that wasn't elven magic. So, does that mean you can—“
“Turn myself into a roaring flame? No. I’m only half, remember? But, I do harbor a much warmer body temperature, and I can wield the fire to do my bidding.”
“Then why not use it all the time? Why even bother with the sword?”
“Using my fire magic is tricky. It takes much concentration and energy. There isn't always the luxury during a fight. My sword, however, will never grow weary.”
He moved around her again, returning his attention to the belt once more.
“Jorund,” she began, picking at a rock with her toe, “where are they now? Your parents?”
His face went dark again, “I don’t like speaking of my childhood.”
“Why not?”
“Because it wasn’t a pleasant one, Nadira.”
“Oh and mine was?”
“I'm not going to do this with you.”
“Why? Why won't you tell me what happened?”
“Why do you wish to know so badly?”
“What happened, Jorund?”
“I told you, I don’t wish to speak of it.” There was a new edge to his tone, a deep rooted anger that seemed to be seeping out under his careful control. And though she could sense it, the rise in him, she wanted to press him further.
The rain was beginning to pelt down harder, pouring water over them, the sky growing darker, echoing the harsh temperament.
“Why?” She asked again.
Without warning, he shoved her back against a tree, pinning her there, hands at her wrists. “Because they’re dead. Satisfied?” And there it was. Stark. Cold. Harsh.
His eyes blazed with fury. A fury she had never seen from him before. His palms flared, searing her skin. And all at once she felt it, that relentless murmuring that would not leave. Even though he was angry, even though he looked as mad as a dragon, she felt his heart, saw the pain in his eyes. He was close, gods he was close.
And he hesitated. The anger swelled but it was something else that held him there. Something else that pulled him closer.
With an exasperated grunt, he let her go, pushing off and plopping down on a large rock, running a hand through his wet hair.
She was stunned. So much pain. Not all too different from how she felt. Rubbing her wrists where they ached, a pang of sorrow and guilt rolled through her as she took a spot next to him. “I'm sorry, Jorund.”
He still wouldn't look at her. “Yes, well, it was a very long time ago.”
She nudged him playfully with her shoulder, echoing his words, “I thought you had no ills.”
He chuckled, rolling his eyes. And it was in that look, when his gaze met hers, water dripping down his hair, the warmth finally returned, and a certain understanding was silently given. Looking down at her wrists, he saw the marks he had left. “If I hurt you–”
“It's fine. I shouldn't have pushed so hard. It really is none of my business.”
“Let me at least heal you.”
“You don’t need to do that. Really, it’s my fault.”
“Nadira, give me your wrists.” He gave her a look, stern but still warm.
She relented with a sigh, unfolding her hands out. Gently, he held the back of her hands in his grasp, closing his eyes and uttering some unintelligible incantation. This time, what flowed out wasn’t red or purple, but all shades of green. It took but a brief moment and when he opened his eyes again, nothing. No marks, no indication he had even touched her at all.
“I asked you to trust me. How could I ask that of you and not show some trust in return? I am sorry.” He let out a heavy breath. “Come on. We still have a long way to go. We have to leave now if we wish to make it there by nightfall. Believe me, you do not want to be stuck outside those gates after it gets dark.” He stood, holding a hand out for her.
This time, she took it. And they were off again, racing the daylight.
As the sky began to color, all the hues of orange and red seeping through the veins of cloud, they crested the edge of a large mountain ridge, the shadows of dusk already drenching the basin behind it. Nestled there amongst the trees, sat a castle, tall and foreboding, the top of the highest tower nearly reaching up half the mountainside. The castle torches were already alight, dotting various points with little puddles of flame, marking the outer edges of its borders.
It was larger than she expected, taking up almost a quarter of the basin itself, nearly dwarfing the nearby lake. When Virelt came to a rest in a clearing next to the outer wall, Jorund was quick about dismounting, turning to help Nadira once again. But this time, when she came down, feeling the scales rippling underneath her, his hands went straight to her waist, catching her before her feet even touched the ground. He still didn't linger, yet she found the gesture odd. He seemed to do it without thinking, as though he had done it a thousand times before. A strange muscle memory. She thought about saying something but, for once, held her tongue, too tired to even think straight, much less try and form complicated words for things she didn't fully understand.
Removing Virelt's utility belt, he gave her a good pat and she was off, gliding back up into the clouds.
“Come. This way. Quickly.”
Nadira followed him as he strode at a rather fast pace toward a large iron gate. She could sense his tension, hear it in his voice, like the string on a bow kept taut. The air was quiet. But not the nighttime hush you would expect. Eerily quiet, as though even the wind herself held her breath. No sound of summer insects, nor the owls that inhabit the trees. Even the rustling leaves held steady. There was fear here. Great fear.
As if the night heard her thoughts, a chorus of screeches and yells erupted, echoing through the woods and round the basin. Not that of a wolf or any animal she knew of. This was sharp, almost piercing to her ears.
Jorund grabbed her hand, pulling her along with him. “We need to get inside. Now.”
The story continues…
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