Rising Ch. 07

Things did not look good. The storm had seemed massive when he'd spotted it heading across the sky toward them, and he didn't think it would end for a very, very long time. And even when it was over, he dreaded having to dig their way out of the snow that would accumulate outside the cave. Even after that it would impede their further progress along the trail. Their food supply, though he'd just gone hunting, would dwindle rapidly. He did not see it lasting out the storm, nor the difficult days thereafter when hunting was likely to be slim.

He turned back toward the small fire to find Ahma still sleeping. She had curled into a ball and hugged one of the blankets to her chest. He sat down and watched her sleep for a time. He knew he should tell her about the direness of the situation, but somehow he couldn't. She'd already been strained badly enough by the harsh traveling through the deadly pass. Though they'd managed well enough thus far, there'd already been several close calls. He couldn't bring himself to crush the little hope she had remaining.

He shook his negative thoughts off and his eyes returned to focus upon her sleeping face.

She was beautiful, he thought. She lay on her side, her slender form curled tightly. The blanket had fallen away from one wing and he watched the intricate feathers layered down their length, fine and delicate. They were smudged ever so slightly with dirt, something he knew she badly disliked but could do nothing about. Her face, too, was smudged from their long days away from civilization, though she had apparently cleaned it a few days ago while he'd been away from the cave. Even with the smudging of dirt, however, he snow white face was perfection.

Methaniel realized he was staring as her eyes fluttered open, and quickly looked away. She stretched, then smiled up at him as he sat down beside her. "Good morning, Master Merie," she greeted.

"Good morning, Ahma," Methaniel smiled. "You look like you've had a nice rest."

"Yes," Ahma nodded as she sat up more fully. "Better than I've had in a while, at least."

They ate some dried meat together for breakfast. Methaniel grabbed their water skins and rose, walking to the snow packing into the cave mouth and stuffed some into both the skins. It was the best they could do for now.

"What shall we do today, hmm?" Methaniel said with a touch of dry humor.

"I could clean the cave," Ahma giggled softly.

Methaniel smirked and sat down again beside her.

Ahma's smiled faded to be replaced with a more serious look. "I think we've gotten the last bit of activity we're going to get for now."

"So it would seem. My blade is going to rust if this goes on much longer," Methaniel grumbled.

"Master Merie?"

The nobleman turned his gaze to her. "Yes?"

Ahma glanced away for a moment before turning worried eyes up to meet his. "Whatdidhappen exactly? Who attacked you...attacked us?"

Methaniel let out a soft sigh and looked away. For a long moment he didn't reply, simply staring across the cave instead, as if studying the rocky patterns on the cave wall.

"I do not know," he said at last. "There are many questions I have, a lot of things I don't understand about that night. Someone wanted me dead, and wanted me dead badly enough to burn my entire house down and slaughter my servants to ensure I died. I don't know who is responsible, or who would even want me dead...Perhaps it was someone in league with, or even from, the Naemer nations. Perhaps they thought to gain some kind of military advantage if I were dead. But...I do not think so.

"In either case, whoever it was had to have had some kind of influence or hold over the City Guard. None were to be seen at all that night, and they should have been about. Likely they were manipulated into staying out of the picture, somehow."

"How is that possible?" Ahma asked, her eyes wide as she watched his face. "Aren't the guardsmen more reliable than that?"

"Who knows what kind of spy or manipulator has gotten to them" Methaniel shrugged. "I can only think that this enemy I have made is very powerful...three times they have tried to assassinate me. First, at the battle field, by firing an arrow at me. Everyone assumed it was simply an arrow shot by the Naemer, but I do not believe so...the Naemer have proud, skilled archers, and they use very unique and specific arrows. None of them would have touched the one fired at me. And then assassins attempt to kill me in front of my own home, hoping to catch me off guard and relaxed. And then...that night."

Methaniel shook his head as one of his hands closed into a fist of frustration. "They attacked boldly indeed, burning my house down. And on top of that, I cannot help but think that perhaps this group that so seeks my death was responsible for the slaughter of my unit...how they would do this, I do not know...but it fits, I think."

Ahma swallowed heavily and began to tremble. Methaniel put an arm around her and she sank gratefully against him. "Why? Why you? Why my brothers...?"

Methaniel squeezed her shoulder, trying to comfort her. "I do not know, Ahma, but I can promise you this. I will find out. Iwillknow why these things happened, and who these men are. And I will bring vengeance upon them. I will avenge those we have lost. The innocents. Your brothers."

Ahma still didn't really understand what had happened, but she took comfort from his assurance. She knew he was a just and honorable man. He would find a way to make things right, she was certain.

"What are you going to do with me?" she asked after sitting with him for awhile longer.

Methaniel watched her. She was unusually curious today, he thought.

"I want you to be safe. If I am able to find you someplace to continue your life unthreatened and without the kind of risks we're facing right now, then I will help you settle and establish yourself. Then I will continue on to do what I must to bring those who seek us to justice."

"And if you can't find a place like that...somewhere I can live peacefully?" Ahma ventured.

Methaniel smiled comfortingly and gave her shoulder another squeeze. "Then I'll keep you with me and protect you. I'll watch out for you and be sure you aren't harmed."

As he gazed down at her, she knew he spoke true.

His eyes traced the shape of her flawless, beautiful face, the smooth skin and her big, chocolate eyes, her stunning, gorgeous smile. Her face was innocent. And suddenly Methaniel realized that his need to protect her and keep her close stemmed from more than a sense of guilt or responsibility toward her.

He returned her smile and tried to shake the sudden thoughts and feelings he hadn't expected to experience.

"Servant work is all I really know to do," she said worriedly. "I suppose a noble somewhere could use my help..."

The thought of serving a new family made Ahma uneasy. She had no idea how servants were treated in other lands. And they could sell her before Methaniel returned to find her.

If he returned to find her.

And if he didn't return, or she was sold, he would return to his normal life without her. The idea scared her, almost as much as the idea of him riding into danger without her did.

Methaniel noticed the far away expression on Ahma's face. "Are you okay?"

"Yes, I'm fine," she replied. "I'm sure I'll find work...somewhere. I can read and write, so that should make me useful."

His eyebrows raised in surprise. "You can read?"

"Yes," Ahma smiled softly. "Your Father taught me to."

"How very unusual," Methaniel mused.

"He told me there should be at least one servant in his household that could read, so that they could keep the library organized. He used to have an old Half-Elven man who could read too, but he died when I was 13."

Methaniel arched a brow. "He must have been very old. Half-Elves inherit many years from their Elven parent."

"He died of a wasting disease," Ahma explained.

"Ah," Methaniel nodded, then frowned slightly. "I knew nothing of this practice of my Fathers, of his teaching servants to read and write. I suppose he intended to tell me, but I was never away from training or the front long enough for us to discuss household business beyond the basics."

"I can't read as well as some nobles," Ahma confessed. "He taught me, but some words and symbols are still strange to me."

"Between you and I," Methaniel smirked, "Many noble-bred don't even know their letters. Many think reading is below them and is more of a task or chore than a privilege."

"Foolish," Ahma giggled. "I've always been very proud of my ability to read."

"As you should be," Methaniel nodded.

"Well. That was my job, I suppose; the Master was very serious about his books and his library, and he wanted them to be well cared for. I took care of them and organized them for him. It was a slow job, and organizing took very little time as no one but your Father used the library."

Ahma kicked herself inside. She knew this conversation was dull and empty, but she couldn't think of anything else to say. There was little she felt she was truly knowledgeable about; servant work and Wingling practices and ceremonies, mostly. And somehow, more and more she felt as if she were tongue tied and couldn't find the proper words when she spoke with him.

Methaniel saved her the trouble and changed the subject. "I could teach you to do more than just servant work, you know."

Ahma looked up at him to find a playful gleam in his eyes.

"I don't know what will lie before us. But there is a very good chance we will be involved in violence before I'm able to get you to proper safety. We will come out of the mountains into Rojinla lands. They are a loosely aligned bunch of towns and cities overseen by a council of representatives by each settlement. The council does a poor job of enforcing any kind of real law between the villages. Each village follows their own ways. It isn't the best way of keeping order. Generally, they're largely lawless and dangerous places. Durinum has been attempting to entice the people into the war, but they've had no luck so far. They have something of a presence there, but it's flimsy at best. It won't be very safe for us. This is why I would like you to be prepared, in case things turn for the worse."

Ahma blinked at him. "You mean..."

Methaniel nodded, a smile spreading across his face. "If you would like, I can teach you how to handle yourself as a warrior does."

"But I'm a woman," Ahma pointed out needlessly.

Methaniel chuckled lightly. "Anyone who says women cannot rage war has never seen one do so. I have. A warrior is not determined by sex, but by skill and discipline."

Ahma hesitated a moment. "Won't weapons skills make me less desirable as a servant?"

"We won't mention that," Methaniel grinned.

End Ch. 7

Chapter 8 coming soon. All comments questions or critiques should be sent through the link below.