Bard: Chapter 2

Liam trudged along a few paces behind Trista with Laura leading the way. Yawning, he rubbed the back of his hand over his eyes and tried to stretch the tension out of his shoulders. Neither he nor his sister had slept much the night before. Laura had insisted at least one of them keep watch in case Trista tried to do something nefarious. Liam was fairly certain Trista would do nothing of the sort, but Laura was adamant.

The look of desperate, clinging terror on Trista’s face when they’d realized who she was running from, and why, was all too familiar to him. Slavery had been outlawed for decades, but it was still practiced by those rich or powerful enough to get away with it. Liam had seen others trying to get away, dangling in that moment when you might succeed or be dragged back the way you came. He’d been there himself. No matter what Trista might be, if he could make the scales tip one way or the other, he would tip them towards escape for her.

Trista walked with her head hanging low and her shoulders hunched. She was sure-footed, despite the uneven, and often broken, roadway. Several times she took a step into a pothole, or clipped a jutted stone in a way that should have made her stumble, but she kept her feet. Liam noticed that the back of her cloak stood out away from her a bit, too. Once or twice, he would have sworn he saw it shift in a way that didn’t match her gait.

“Are you hiding a tail?” he asked, not realizing until the words had left him exactly how ludicrous it sounded.

Trista glanced back over her shoulder, looking abashed.

“Yes,” she replied sheepishly.

“Why?” Liam asked. “We know what you are, there’s no point in hiding much else.”

Laura glanced back, her lip curling. “And you can keep the hood down,” she added. “That mask makes you look like a liar.”

“Someone might see me,” Trista protested.

“Not many people out here, if you hadn’t noticed,” Laura quipped. Trista considered for a few more steps.

“But there are people,” Trista said, pointing into the woods to the west of them, “nearly a dozen.”

Liam put his hands on his swords, but left them sheathed for the moment. If there were more travelers on the road, it wouldn’t serve to be mistaken for a bandit himself.

“How do you know?” Laura asked, stopping to squint into the trees.

“I can…um…hear them?” Trista offered, though she didn’t sound at all certain of her answer.

“More travelers?” Liam ventured.

“I don’t know,” Trista said. “I can’t tell their intent.”

“Hopefully we won’t see them at al—” something hit Liam in the side, knocking him off his feet and pinning his arms to his sides painfully. Trista cried out and Laura swore loudly as bolas caught them around their torsos as well, taking both to the ground. Liam shifted, trying to free his hands, but the weights had knotted over his wrists.

Hooves pounded towards them on the road and several men on horseback skidded to a halt in front of them. Men hopped down, and still more emerged from the brush along the roadside.

A particularly large man in a dark shirt and rough leather vest gestured to the three on the ground.

“Search them,” he said gruffly.

Two of the men grabbed Laura, who shrieked and kicked at them, only to be slapped across the face.

“Hey!” Liam shouted, but another bandit kicked him hard in the stomach and he doubled over himself on the ground. A blow to the head sent darkness and flashes of light across his vision. Someone tugged his sword belt loose, pushing him on his side as his vision gradually cleared.

“Fancy with the swords are we?” the bandit jeered, then leaned down to yank the boots off Liam’s feet.

“Looks to be about my size,” he said smugly, peeling off his own split and broken shoes and replacing them with Liam’s.

“This one jingles!” another bandit exclaimed as he pulled Trista from the ground. He groped around her waist and pulled the coin purse free, grinning widely, another pulled her pack free and began digging around inside. “It’s our lucky day!”

“Toss her on the horse,” the big one instructed. “We can sell the girls. Kill the boy.”

The one who had taken Liam’s boots rolled him onto his stomach, put a knee in his back, and pulled his head back by the hair. Liam felt the cold kiss of a knife at his throat, had just enough time to feel a jolt of terror, to hear Laura scream, and then—

“Stop,” the quiet word reverberated through the air, and all the bandits seemed to freeze in place. Trista pulled free of the man who held her, breathing heavily, her head hanging. “Leave us, and go,” she commanded. Her voice was level and low, but there was a substance to her words that Liam could feel in his chest, in his bones.

The bandits couldn’t get away fast enough. The man holding Laura tossed her aside, and the bandit who had been kneeling on Liam’s back, ready to slit his throat an instant before, bounded to a horse and took off as if late for a meeting. The rest followed suit. Trista fell to her knees, retching, and Laura flew to Liam, one of her own knives already in her hands.

“Gods,” she breathed as she cut him loose. Then, throwing her arms around him, “that was close.”

“Let’s not get that close again,” he agreed, returning her embrace. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” she assured him. With a final squeeze, she released him, wiping the back of her hand over her eyes and turning to where Trista now lay on the ground, curled tightly with her knees drawn up to her chest. “What did she do?”

“I don’t know, but I’m glad for it,” Liam said, crawling over to Trista.

“Trista?” Liam asked, tapping her shoulder. When she didn’t respond he pushed her hood back, and she opened her eyes. They weren’t purple and slitted anymore, but black. The pupil, the iris, and the whites were a pool of inky darkness that sent a shiver down his spine. Trista shuddered and looked away from him.

“I need a moment,” she rasped out.

“I’ll get you untied,” he said, then set to work untangling the cords from around her body. By the time he was done she was breathing normally again, and met his eyes with her own serpentine purple ones.

“Thank you,” she said, rubbing her arms.

“Don’t mention it,” Liam replied.

“We should leave the road,” Laura said. “I’d rather not run into anyone else today.”

“Right,” Liam nodded, rubbing at the back of his head where the bandit had struck him. It was sore to the touch, and he could feel the ache right through to his nose, already blooming into a throbbing headache. He helped Trista to her feet and trudged over to where the bandit had dropped his old, broken shoes, already missing his boots. While Liam pulled on the shoddy shoes and Laura searched the brush for anything else the thieves had left behind, Trista stood with her arms wrapped around her stomach, hood down and tail uncoiled behind her.

He had expected something like a donkey’s tail, the type that devils and imps had in the engravings temples kept, but her tail was strong—the width of a leg—and covered in the same ridged purple scales that adorned the sides of her face. She caught him looking and tucked it back up under her dress.

“You don’t have to hide it,” he said. “I expect no one else is around just now.”

“Still…” Trista murmured, hunching up her shoulders and raising her hood again.

“If you hear anyone else, let us know right off so we can all hide,” Laura said, giving up her search and leading them off the road. “Let’s get going. We still have some ground to cover before it gets dark.”

They trudged through the brush beneath the trees, giving the road a wide berth but still following its general direction. It was much slower going, but there were no signs that other humans had passed by where they walked. Liam spotted deer and rabbits, and Laura asked Trista if she heard other people frequently, but they encountered no one else.

When it got too dark to see well, they found a relatively clear area and began the debate of whether to have a fire.

“It’s freezing,” Liam pointed out, “and it will help keep animals away.”

“It will draw the attention of people,” Laura countered, “and I don’t want to have a repeat of this morning.”

“I can keep the people away,” Trista said quietly, “once they’re within earshot.”

Liam exchanged looks with Laura.

“You can’t be up all night,” Laura said.

“I can,” Trista said.

“Are you nocturnal normally?” Liam asked.

“No,” she replied, looking at the ground. “I just don’t really need to sleep tonight.”

Laura stared at her, hard, and Liam could see exhaustion and worry warring in her. After the last sleepless night, she was ready to drop.

“We can still split the watch,” he offered, rubbing his temples. “I’ll stay up with Trista for a while, then we can switch.”

Laura shivered. “Fine,” she said. “Let’s find some firewood.”

They gathered what they could before the darkness nearly blinded them, and cleared a patch of ground. Laura cursed.

“They took my pack,” she grumbled. “We don’t have flints.”

Without a word, Trista reached her hand in amongst their spindly firewood and flames flickered to life. The heat was immediate and welcome, far more intense than the tiny campfire should have produced.

Liam looked up at Trista hopefully, “Can you magic us food?” he asked. She shook her head. “Damn.”

“Sorry.”

“Just being hopeful,” Liam said. “Never really been around magic before. I don’t know how it works.”

They huddled around the fire long enough to warm up, then Laura reluctantly lay down with her back to the light to take the first turn sleeping. Liam and Trista sat, back to back, on the other side of the fire from her. Liam was surprised, and grateful, to find Trista nearly as warm as the fire. He wouldn’t be cold, at least, but his head continued to throb.

“You’re not a healer, by chance, are you?” Liam asked, rubbing his forehead to no avail.

“Not—or—I ‘ve never tried healing before,” Trista replied. “Are you hurt very badly?”

“This headache won’t stop,” he explained. Trista turned so she could see him better, hesitated, then reached out her hands towards his head.

“I can try,” she offered, and Liam nodded, leaning into her as she took him gently on either side of his head, her fingers probing the sore spot. She closed her eyes, her brow furrowing and head cocking to the side as if listening for something very quiet. Liam thought he felt something run through the throbbing in his head. It wasn’t soothing, but it didn’t make it worse either. After a few moments, Trista released him, shaking her head. “I’m sorry. I don’t know how to do it.”

“Thanks for trying at least.”

Trista shrugged regretfully and put her back to him again. Liam leaned into her, appreciating the heat she seemed to radiate. Trista settled against him as well.

“Why are you going to Everly?” he asked.

“There’s a college there that teaches music,” she replied softly. Liam snorted.

“You going to be a bard?”

“Are they the ones who play music?”

“Yes.”

“Then yes, I’m going to be a bard.”

“What do you play?” Liam asked.

“Nothing yet,” Trista replied. “I want to learn violin.”

“Violin?”

“Yes. I heard it played once, and it—it—” Trista’s voice shook and she paused before continuing, “It was very beautiful.”

Liam was curious about that, but didn’t want to press any further. He had already asked her more questions than he’d ever asked a stranger he wasn’t interrogating, and she sounded near the edge of what she would tolerate. She didn’t offer any more, and he didn’t ask.

“Can we make it to Ford tomorrow?” she asked after a while.

“Yes, by evening if we make good time.”

Trista’s shoulders shifted against his.

“Good,” she said softly.