Claire stood over the sink in her small kitchen. Warm light splashed across her body as she washed some plates in soapy water. She hummed the familiar tune Mother had taught her when she was a child. Tranquility settled in, something she hadn’t felt for weeks. No, not weeks. Just a night, a very un-restful night at that.
Just as she thought, it was all just a dream. No centaurs, no elves, no giant cats trying to eat her. The existence of any was questionable at best. Stockton was the same as she had left it the day before. The tavern still needed to be cleaned, chores needed to be done, supper to be cooked. Just another day in her exciting life.
She laid the dishes on a towel on the counter to dry. Mother would be back any minute to start the preparations for the night. She turned to survey the kitchen she had just cleaned and gave a satisfied sigh. Yup, exciting. But at least it was peaceful. Some would give up everything for a peaceful life. Someone had told that to her once, but she couldn’t quite remember who.
The light in the kitchen faded rapidly, too rapidly. She spun back to the window and craned her neck to look up. The moon shined bright and round in a star filled sky. That was odd.
Claire’s pulse began to quicken. Something was off.
The door to the alley burst open suddenly and a gust of cool air swept through the kitchen. Goosebumps crawled over her skin as a centaur entered, brandishing a spear in his right hand. The front side of his body dripped with something dark and wet. He spotted her and she froze, her hands gripping the counter behind her. She couldn’t move. Her mind begged her to, but her feet were too heavy. The beast’s deep laugh filled the room before he raised his weapon high in front of him and charged.
Claire’s eyes snapped open as she gasped violently. Cold air rushed down her throat like it was the first breath she’d ever taken. She was lying on her back, lumps from the hard ground digging into her, but at least her head was on something soft. Warm light flickered off a rocky ledge hanging high above her. She was alive, but where?
Fiery pain swarmed through her body in a sudden rush. A soft cry escaped her, her throat raw and dry, and she held her breath as she waited for it to subside a bit. It was a relief to know that she wasn’t dead, but at the moment, death didn’t seem all too bad.
She blinked a couple times, her eyes still a little blurry. She wasn’t in the cave room anymore. The air around her was cool and she could hear the faint crackle of a fire nearby. Had somebody really saved her? She froze for a moment. Could it have been Bren? Surely after her little display he would have found some use for her, or decided to share her new found talents with his king, the prince, or whoever he truly worked for.
She closed her eyes tight and forced herself to take deep breaths. In any event, she was in no shape to do anything about her situation. She was at the mercy of her savior. All she could hope for is that they were a kind one.
“How are you feeling, Claire?”
She knew that voice. Her eyes snapped open again.
Farron leaned over her with a worried look on his face. Relief filled her. So, the elf had come for her.
“Fantastic,” she squeezed out. It hurt to talk, she discovered.
“Well, that’s good.” He sighed. “But you probably should have stayed asleep a little bit longer.” He turned away from her and started to fiddle around with something.
“I would if I could,” she said through clenched teeth. Her hopes for a kind savior were dashed already.
He turned back to her, kneeling on one knee by her side. A thin blade glinted in his hand. Claire’s eyes grew wide. What was that for? He hadn’t turned against her too, had he?
“I’m sorry, Claire, but it has to come out.” He slid the blade under her shirt and began to cut the cloth.
Her hands moved for the first time as she grabbed for his. “Wait. What are—” She tried to stop him, but her body lacked the strength. The wound on her right hand had been bandaged already, wrapped tightly in a dark cloth.
The blade cut easily through her shirt, exposing her skin to the cool night air. His hand accidentally nudged the spine and it sent a sharp pain throughout her body that curled her toes and arched her back. She gasped as tears started to gather in her eyes. She’d forgotten about that.
He turned briefly before he returned with a damp cloth and started to wipe the blood and dirt away from the wound. Each time it touched her skin, another wave of agony shot through her. Sweat broke out across her body and she wished the night had been just a little bit colder.
“Fare, stop,” she whimpered. She didn’t know how much more she could handle.
“It has to come out.”
“No, it doesn’t.” She gave him the best smile she could muster with tears crawling down her cheeks. “I’m fine, really.” She wasn’t, but she knew she couldn’t handle something like that right now. Couldn’t he wait until she was unconscious again?
“It’s poisonous. I have no choice, Claire.” His face hardened into the emotionless mask she was so fond of. He set the cloth aside, positioned himself closer to her and laid a hand above the wound on her ribcage to hold her in place gently but firmly. He gripped the spine and she cried out. The previous pain was nothing compared to this one. Her back arched, but he pressed her back down to the ground, leaning his weight onto his hand to keep her from struggling.
“Wait!” She grabbed at his hands again. Her breath came in shallow bursts as she tried to plead with him. “Just wait. Please.”
Farron paused, his hand still on the spine. He looked down at her and the mask slowly crumbled away. His shoulders slumped a bit as he took his hand off, fear and worry clear and raw on his face. It wasn’t a good sign when the elf lost his composure.
He sat back onto the ground, crossed his legs and pulled her into his lap. She made a slight whimpering noise as the spine shifted in her side. Her head rested on his shoulder as his arm slipped across hers.
“It hurts,” she whispered.
“I know.” His hand slowly made its way back to the spine.
She grabbed his arm and started to push it away, but his strength easily overpowered hers in her current state. “Please don’t,” she begged softly. “Don’t.”
“It’ll be alright, Claire.” He rested his cheek just above her ear and began to whisper the same chant he’d used to calm her during their encounter with the centaurs.
The soft rolling words slithered in her ears and into her mind. She tried to focus on his voice, the solid warmth of his body. She felt his arm tense and the hand on her shoulder gripped tight as he jerked the spine from her side. She cried out and a moment later, he pressed a cloth against the wound.
He raised his head to look at it as his chant trailed off. “That wasn’t so bad now, was it?”
She thought of a dozen remarks she could have said at that moment. Her hands fell limply to her sides and she closed her eyes. His arm tightened around her shoulders as he cradled her closer to his body.
“Fare,” her voice was barely even a whisper, “if… if I don’t make it…”
“Don’t talk like that. You’ll be fine.”
She could hear the tiny thread of uncertainty in his voice. The cloth on her wound had soaked through and she doubted it was with water. The elf whispered a word under his breath before he pressed another cloth to her stomach. The word sounded pretty in his language, but she knew it wasn’t a good one.
“… please find…” She could feel her consciousness start to wane as the cold hands of darkness reached for her. “… tell her… I’m sorry…”
“No.”
“… please.”
“Stop it.” His voice faltered a little. “You’ll find her yourself. And you still have to beat me up, remember?”
The new cloth was saturated now. It felt like it was soaking up her life, taking the warmth from her body. The dark hands gripped onto her consciousness and started to pull. “… I’m so tired…”
He whispered another pretty word as he pressed another cloth to her
skin. “I’m sorry, Claire.”
She could barely hear his voice as she finally gave in to the hands and let them pull her down into the darkness. For some reason she felt like he was apologizing for more than pulling the spine out. His words seemed heavy and full of regret. But for what?
A bright light burned through her closed eyelids and she could feel her body swaying. An arm gripped around her back, one her legs. Slowly, she opened her eyes a crack to adjust to the light. Her head leaned against Farron’s shoulder as he carried her; his black hair was surprisingly silky underneath her cheek. A dark cloak was wrapped tightly around her.
Wait, his black hair? She raised her hand slowly and picked up a clump of his hair. Her eyes glanced up to make sure it was still the same elf.
“What happened to…” She trailed off, her eyelids started to feel heavy again as an overwhelming fatigue swept over her. Her hand dropped back to her stomach and she winced as it hit the wound on her side.
“Claire, look.” His hand tightened on her shoulder.
It took her eyes a moment to focus, to comprehend what she saw. A deep rift in the earth reached as far as the eye could see below them, all the way to the horizon. The walls of the earth dropped steeply on either side, rough and rocky, as if the ground had been split in half. Thick ropes wrapped around a wooden railing and led upwards to a web of chains and cables that supported the bridge underneath.
Her mouth fell open as she took in the sight. Faint voices and footsteps reached her ears. In the distance, a horse whinnied, followed by the sound of hooves on wood plank. The bridge was crowded; she could feel it, the energy of the people.
“We’re crossing the Rift of Illanor.” He kept his voice low. “He was the great General that led the humans to victory. The rift was created in the last great battle, right before the magic disappeared. It stretches far to the north, and south, all the way to the sea.”
Her head fell back against his shoulder. Excitement couldn’t even stave off the fatigue.
“You’re cruel,” she whispered.
“And why is that, my lady?”
“To show me things… I can’t fully appreciate…”
“I can bring you back once you recover, if that is what you wish.”
She slipped back into a deep sleep before she could answer.