Dark Travelers Ch 07

Author's Note: Ugh. UGH. Don't even ask. I know it's been quite awhile and I do apologize. But, I ended up losing this whole damn chapter when my computer got infected with a virus. Yes, people. I lost it ALL and I had to re-write it ALL.

Ugh. -_-

BUT! Here it is, at last. I hope you enjoy it.

As always, comments and critiques are welcome and enjoyed in any capacity. Thank you for taking the time out to offer me your opinions. It means a lot to me.

On a final note - I did try the translations directly next to the text, but I found it very distracting. If this makes things a bit difficult, I am sorry. :( But, if the format is one of the only complaints I receive (and so far, it has been, yay me! :D ), then I consider it a win regardless.

Luv and thanks to you all,

Ginnnnnnnnnnnnnnna!

19.

After the wizard had poked and prodded at the witch for a bit, Horace plucked a hair from her head and muttered something under his breath. After another brief examination, he appeared satisfied and waved her off.

She'd endured it stoically enough, but Kirik could tell that she didn't like being touched in the least. He supposed he couldn't fault her on that though, as he glanced up at the staircase; he was none too fond of it, either.

Kirik continued to stare upwards, a frown creasing his forehead. Kael had been gone for quite some time and he briefly wondered if the boy had indeed run into some hidden trouble. He hadn't heard any disturbing sounds or cries for assistance, however, so he put it out of his mind for the time being and turned his attention on the woman sitting morosely on the couch.

"Seems you're on a path to self-discovery, aren't you? How does it feel to find out that you're a witch?"

Anya threw an irritated glance over at the Feylak and began to busy herself with going through her pack, not bothering to reply.

Kirik noted the lack of response but paid it no heed, "no opinion at all? Really? Seems to me that it's a rather tremendous revelation."

She shrugged and avoided looking at him, instead beginning to separate her and Andi's soiled clothing. After, she shouldered the bag, gathered up the assorted garments and stood.

"If you'll excuse me, I need to go wash these. They're quite dirty," she said, staunchly.

Kirik smirked and waved a hand, "by all means. Far be it from me to have the two of you reeking for the duration of our time together."

Anya tightened her mouth and headed back towards the washroom. She turned the faucet on and started the water running in the small basin. Shrugging the pack off, Anya dug through it until she found the soap and began to vigorously scrub one of Andi's sweaters. She was just starting to rinse it out when a voice behind her made her jump.

"You still haven't answered my question, witch."

She half-turned and stared. Kirik had followed her and was leaning casually against the door frame, arms folded across his chest. Anya had no idea of how long he'd been standing there, watching her. The small smile was still lingering on his lips and his eyes were dancing with poorly concealed mirth. It appeared he was in a rather playful mood.

"So I'm 'witch' now, am I? I believe I actually prefer 'woman'." She replied bluntly.

Kirik's amused expression deepened, "as you wish it then. Woman."

Anya shook her head slightly and went back to rinsing the soap from the sweater. There was a heavy silence for a time, and she wondered if he'd gone.

"Answer me, woman. Tell me how it feels to discover such a hidden talent after a lifetime of not knowing. I am very curious."

He shoulders drooped in defeat at the query, realizing that he was fixated on her again and would likely not leave her be unless she cooperated. "If you must know, I'd rather I'd never found out at all. I've no interest in the occult."

"You lie, woman. Just last night you were questioning me about magic. And your curiosity was not feigned."

Anya wrung out the sweater and laid it carefully over the edge of the tub before reaching for a pair of pants. She'd worked in the suds good and proper before replying, "aye, I was. But idle curiosity does not necessarily mean I wish to actually be involved with such things."

Kirik tilted his head and strolled into the small room. Anya managed to restrain a fearful shudder as he leaned against the wall next to her. In such close proximity, she could feel the warmth radiating off his body and the weight of his stare on her now. He watched her for a bit with that same little smile before speaking again.

"So, you're telling me that you've no interest in actually weaving spells. Odd. One would think that a being like yourself would embrace such a skill."

Anya stared down at the water swirling in the sink, hands paused. His comment had stung her for some reason. "What do you mean, 'a being like yourself'?"

Kirik's smirk grew, "I meant; one so helpless as you are. Why would you not jump at the chance to practice a craft that may one day help you with self-defense?"

Her cheeks grew a bit red, "before you and your brother came calling, I'd no need for it."

He scoffed. "Ridiculous. You two were at the mercy of whatever might have come along; not just me or Kael. Were you so foolish to assume that nothing unfortunate would ever happen to the two of you?"

Anya shot him a glare, "our society is a peaceful one. There was never a need to learn to fight."

"I disagree. If there was no need, you wouldn't be in the situation you are in now."

She huffed and didn't reply.

Kirik watched her for a while longer before continuing, "when we were observing you, there was no evidence of any other person living in your dwelling. You rarely even accepted visitors. Why would two lone females wish to live so far away from the protective walls of their city? Away from the safety of the herd?"

Anya shrugged and laid the pants over the tub next to the sweater, then automatically reached into the bag for the next item. "It was our parents' home. I was only a young woman when they died; more girl than woman, really. And I had Andi to look after. There was no time for me to find a new place to live when I had to make sure we would both survive after their passing. Furthermore, there was no reason to leave a perfectly good, furnished house behind. It would have been silly, honestly."

He nodded, "so why was there no man looking after the two of you?"

Anya swallowed and glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, "because I've no man to look after me, presently. Nor Andi."

"Why has no male claimed you?"

She stopped scrubbing and squeezed the bar of soap involuntarily, not especially liking the direction this conversation was taking. "I, ah... I'm not sure, really. We're both still a bit young; there wasn't any hurry."

He gave her an appraising look, "you seem to be a fully-mature female. I can see no obvious deformity or flaw. Do you have some sort of hidden imperfection?"

Anya shook her head, "Andi and I have developed normally, thank you. Your concern is not needed."

"Have you? So, is it that you are you considered ugly, then? Does no man want you?"

She stared at the basin and shrugged, "I-I don't know. It's not something I've ever really been concerned with."

"You are oddly colored, granted, but your body is nicely shaped and your features are rather pleasant. If I can see it, then others of your kind surely must."

Anya felt her cheeks grow warmer. She wasn't certain how to respond at first. Finally; "why are you interested at all? Surely we're of no consequence to a race such as yours, correct? And, excuse me, but I'M the oddly colored one? I've seen many people with my skin tone; yet you and your brother are the first violet-skinned beasts that I've ever encountered."

Kirik chuckled softly at her banter. "On the contrary, I am quite intrigued. One can never know enough. And anyhow, I answered many of YOUR questions about myself, did I not? Would you deny me the same courtesy?"

Anya had no argument for that.

"In my culture, it is odd for an attractive woman to not be mated, or at least in a harem," he went on after a bit.

"Well, in ours it is not."

He shook his head in derision, "idiotic custom. Human females obviously need protection; look at what happens if they do not have it."

Anya stared at him, clothing forgotten for the moment. Anger was rising in her chest. "If you had never come, this would not be happening. This is YOUR doing, remember."

He waved his hand, dismissing her comment. "That doesn't matter. Even if this had never occurred, the way you two live is still irresponsible. Or, are you also too foolish to realize that your comfortable little society could be dashed in an instant? Everything will always change and nothing is ever certain. Peace and safety least of all."

Kirik took in her stricken expression with obvious enjoyment. He leaned over to whisper in her ear, "I think now you know this, though."

Anya cringed back and shook her head. "Not so! And even if it was, the King has trained soldiers to protect the people if such a thing were to-"

He laughed. It was a harsh, flat sound; but a laugh nonetheless. "Oh! You mean that human male that so valiantly came to your aid when we first met? The one that my brother -my adolescent brother- so easily dispatched? Those are the warriors of your clan? I see. Perhaps my previous theory about the women of your species needing male protection was unfounded. Even if you had belonged to a man it probably wouldn't have mattered much."

"Our people do not belong to one another. A woman and a man may or may not live together because they do or do not wish to. But it is usually a mutual decision because they have fallen in love with one another."

Kirik appeared confused, "I am unfamiliar with that term."

Anya's expression revealed amused contempt and she shook her head. "That doesn't surprise me at all."

The Feylak smiled, enjoying himself immensely. Back home, there weren't any who dared to speak to him in such a fashion. Of course, Kael did. Frequently. But certainly no one else. Kirik was finding it just a tad bit entertaining to have someone to verbally spar with besides his sibling.

"You have hidden fire in you, woman."

"And you're clearly carved from ice," she replied, going back to her washing.

Kirik considered, "fitting enough, I suppose."

"Pardon?"

He straightened and stretched a bit, "I meant; being 'carved from ice' is a fitting enough description. Considering that there is an abundance of it where I am from."

Anya's curiosity was piqued once again. As far as she knew, there was only one unexplored place left on the map, and it was said to be frozen. She debated with herself briefly, and then decided to just ask. The worst he could do was not give her an answer. She hoped.

"Where are you from?"

He was silent for a moment, his features thoughtful. He saw no reason why she shouldn't know, since it was beginning to become more and more apparent that it was where she would most likely end up.

"I believe it is known to most as The Deadlands. It's proper name, though, is The Ice Flats."

She was shocked. She'd only heard of The Deadlands by story alone. It lay on the very outer edges of the realm. On the maps she'd seen, instead of the symbols and names of villages or cities that you would expect; that particular area was labeled with a large question mark and nothing else.

No one she'd heard of or knew had ever actually dared to breech the boundary. What had been told, however, was that it grew colder and bleaker and darker the closer you got to that invisible border; and all living things ceased to be. It had been assumed by most to be completely uninhabitable and therefore, deserted.

"Nothing can survive in that place. It's a frozen wasteland." She shook her head, "I don't believe you."

"It doesn't matter whether you believe me or not, the fact that remains is that is where I am from. And while it is frozen, it is not a wasteland. There are many creatures that have adapted and not only survive, but thrive there."

"Impossible. It is wholly unexplored. There is no documented evidence of-"

Kirik interrupted harshly, "unexplored by YOUR kind perhaps. You forget, Pretty, that there are other beings that share this world with humans. While it's true that no human has ever wandered into our territory, many other races have. Some have even been ...convinced... to stay and have evolved over the years."

Anya jutted her chin out stubbornly, "we'd have gotten wind of SOMEthing then. Someone would have-"

She broke off, suddenly remembering that evening so long ago. The one where the elf maiden, Miri, had given her that strange warning. The woman had been very vague about the trouble. But then again, Miri had always been a bit distant. Always courteous, but never overly friendly. Anya recalled how surprised she had been that the elf had actually offered such a favor.

Kirik watched her carefully, wondering what was working its way through her head. It was apparent that she was mulling something over.

"No, maybe not," she muttered to herself. "None of the Forest Folk ever really mingle with us. Why would we hear of their business?"

"Why indeed?"

She threw a startled look at him, almost as if she'd forgotten he was there. Something else dawned on her. "That is why you can stand the cold weather so well, then?"

Kirik nodded, "yes."

"And why you said your people are especially adept at magic that generates heat and light?"

Again, he nodded. "Also yes. Very good."

"So, does heat harm you?"

Kirik arched a brow and threw her a sardonic glance, "if it weakened us, why would we bother to conjure it?"

Anya shrugged, unaffected. "It was always my understanding that ice creatures are usually opposed to warmth."

"I'm actually quite fond of heat. We are all drawn to and enjoy warmth. It is somewhat of a rarity where I live, after all."

Anya remembered something else that she'd been puzzled about. "What about when you told me that you don't like it here because it's too open?"

She'd forgotten her chore completely now, utterly fascinated once again. Kirik examined her face as she gave him her rapt attention. Her eyes were wide, direct and sparkling with curiosity. He recognized that hungry look. It was the same need-to-know expression that crept over his own features when he was intent on figuring something out; be it from book or being.

"When you're very interested in something, your eyes burn. Did you know that, woman?"

Her blush deepened and she swallowed.

He slowly reached out and slid his palm over her reddening cheek. "And whenever I focus too closely on you, your skin burns as well."

Anya was taken aback for a moment, mesmerized by his warm touch. They stared at one another for what seemed like a long time before the spell was broken by someone clearing their throat at the doorway.

"As much as I'd hate to break up this charming little tête à tête, I've discovered something else and I need to borrow her again."

20.

Horace's face was grimly amused as he gazed upon the scene in his bathroom. When he'd spoken, the large Feylak had jerked his hand away from the woman's cheek quickly, as if he'd been burned.

Anya clutched the bar of soap in both hands and gave him an unhappy glance. She wasn't looking forward to whatever invasion of privacy would come next.

Becoming impatient, the wizard beckoned her. "Come on, come on! Don't just stand there looking daft. We've much to do!"

She glowered at him and turned the water off with a quick, impatient gesture. Wiping her hands dry on her thighs, she took her time in following Horace back to his book-laden desk. He gestured to an empty chair just opposite of his.

"Sit, sit."

Anya sat. She had just folded her hands in her lap and was waiting patiently when the wizard snatched her wrist and twisted it so her hand was palm facing up. Without so much as a word of warning he ran the point of a small dagger across her flesh, opening up a thin cut. Blood welled up along the edges of the broken skin and trickled slowly down her wrist. She gasped as pain struck her a moment later and she attempted to pull out of his grip.

"Tut, it's a small wound, nothing more," Horace snapped impatiently, holding on tightly. His feeble appearance belied his strength; Anya was unable to free herself.

Holding a small vial under the stream of blood, the wizard captured several drops and grunted in satisfaction. "Well, the first two ingredients have been collected. I don't particularly imagine that the others will be as easy to come by, though."

Kirik's expression sharpened, "what exactly do you mean, old man? What are these ingredients that you speak of?"

Horace turned an eye on the creature, humor twinkling in it momentarily, "do you suppose that I need only to wave my hands, chant a pretty poem and these words will just appear on her flesh, simple as that? Tsk, tsk, Feylak, this sort of magic does not work that way. I'll need to brew a potion. And what do potions usually require? Why, ingredients of course! Imagine that."

Anya sat there, clutching her injured hand. The wizard seemed to take notice of her again and appeared surprised about something. "Oh! Young lady, do forgive me. What an oaf I'm being."

With that said, he drew his golden wand and touched the tip of it to her palm. Her hand glowed a brief rose color and began to warm up. She watched in amazement as the pain faded and the wound slowly knitted together. After a short moment, no trace of the cut remained.

"There now, all healed. Shall I kiss it better for good measure?" Horace tipped her an amused wink.

She quickly stood and backed out of his reach, shaking her head. "Not necessary. Are we done, then?"

He nodded and waved her off once more, "we are. For now. Go continue with what you were doing."

Appearing rather upset, she nodded and quickly and scuttled off to the washroom to finish the laundry. Kirik remained behind, a speculative expression on his face.

"So you've found out the way to transfer the script?"

The wizard nodded, "obviously."

Kirik bristled visibly; this man irked him to no end. "Do tell."

Horace pressed a small cork into the opening of the little glass bottle. The woman's blood was safely encased inside. He put the vial in a small pouch which he in turn placed in a drawer of his desk. "This is going to be quite an adventure! I must say I'm excited."

"I do not understand."

"Of course you don't. If you did, I rather doubt you'd be here," the wizard replied.

"Damn you, old man! Can I not get a straight answer out of you?"

Horace appeared hurt, "you're entirely unpleasant, you know. You keep this up and you'll never win her affections."

Kirik stared, speechless.

The sorcerer laughed, genuinely amused. "Don't get yourself all worked up, I shall tell you. There is quite a list of ingredients to make this tonic. Some I have, can get, or know where to obtain them. Others, not so much; but, I have connections that might. The first two, as you've seen, were a bit of blood and hair from the witch herself."

The Feylak shifted, mulling it over. "So, you're coming with us."

"Of course I am. How else would you be able to perform the ritual? This shall be fun! I can hardly wait."

Kirik didn't appear as eager.

Horace wave a hand in dismissal, "Oh, pish. You're quite the stick-in-the-mud, aren't you?"

"I don't know what that means."

The wizard was about to reply when footsteps caught their attention. Kael had finally returned and was strolling down the steps with a pleased expression consuming his features.

"It's about time, youngling. I was about to go up to see if you'd gotten lost," Kirik snapped, annoyed.

Kael paused momentarily, brow arched, then began to saunter down the last few steps at an ever slower pace. "All is well, brother. No secret baddies present," he reported, smiling broadly.