dropped to the fire. “Fine with me,” he muttered.
Douglon stood and approached Alaric. The dwarf extended his hand. “Your word that the treasure is ours unless we agree to sell it?”
Alaric didn’t need to own the Wellstone, just get his hands on it for a few minutes. He stood and shook the dwarf’s hand.
Hours later, the talk of treasure dwindled and all parties settled down to sleep. Alaric leaned against a tree at the edge of the firelight, surrounded by the lingering warmth of the day. The only sounds were the chirps of the forest bugs and the crackle of the fire.
It was odd that he had run into this group. More than odd. To find people searching for Kordan’s buried treasure? It was impossible to think that was coincidence. If it was something else, though, Alaric didn’t have any idea what it was.
“Are you going to try to influence me?” Ayda’s voice slipped out of the darkness next to Alaric’s ear, causing him to start.
“Of course not,” he answered. It wasn’t worth pretending he hadn’t used augmenta on Brandson. Ayda probably knew he had. “You seem to be an expert at influencing people. Even for an elf.”
Ayda laughed, stepping out of the darkness and settling herself beside him on the grass.
“Influencing is such a vague idea, isn’t it? It comes in all different forms. Am I still influencing people if they just like me?” She cocked her head to the side, looking at Alaric. “But I don’t know that I could affect you, at least not without some actual effort. That is unusual, you know.”
Alaric snorted. “You don’t actually believe that.”
He couldn’t quite pull his eyes away from her. There was something fascinating about Ayda. Something shimmery around the edges, something warm radiating out, something troubling tucked in the background. Elves had a sort of intensity about them that humans and dwarves lacked, but Alaric had never met one whose intensity was so… visible. So glittery.
“Why are you such a challenge, I wonder?” She rose up and walked to the fire.
He focused on the skin of her arm, trying to catch what sparkled.
She knelt and stretched her hand straight into the fire. Alaric gasped and started forward, but she pulled her hand back out, pinching off one small flickering flame between her unharmed fingers. There was no kindling or fuel, just a single flame. She gazed at it with a pleased expression while Alaric stared at her open-mouthed. Lifting it close to her mouth, she blew on it. Starting from the bottom, the flame grew still and hardened, forming a smooth crystal.
She walked back to Alaric, pulling up a piece of long grass on her way. Stretching it between her fingers, she set the end of it against the side of the crystal and pushed. The blade of grass pierced it, leaving the orange flame dangling like a gem on a chain.
“There you are,” she said. She knelt down next to him and tied the necklace around his neck.
Alaric sat, too stunned to move.
“You are better suited to fire than leaves,” she added, motioning to Douglon who still wore his chain of oak leaf stems.
Alaric reached up to touch the necklace. It felt like a piece of glass slightly warmed from the sun. The gem was the exact likeness of the flame.
It would have taken Alaric weeks to theorize a way to do that, and even then, he probably would have only ended up with burnt fingers. Elves’ magic was elemental, but this was different. They talked to trees and helped flowers grow, but he had never heard of an elf manipulating fire like that. Fire couldn’t be changed to stone. The two things were too different. What she had done should be impossible.
He raised his eyes to hers warily. She showed no sign of pain. It was as though she paid no price for the magic.
“Why are you such a challenge?” she repeated. Even though her smile remained pleasant, her gaze pierced into his mind.
He tried to wrench his gaze away, but he was pinned.
He couldn’t even blink.
She
Douglon stood and approached Alaric. The dwarf extended his hand. “Your word that the treasure is ours unless we agree to sell it?”
Alaric didn’t need to own the Wellstone, just get his hands on it for a few minutes. He stood and shook the dwarf’s hand.
Hours later, the talk of treasure dwindled and all parties settled down to sleep. Alaric leaned against a tree at the edge of the firelight, surrounded by the lingering warmth of the day. The only sounds were the chirps of the forest bugs and the crackle of the fire.
It was odd that he had run into this group. More than odd. To find people searching for Kordan’s buried treasure? It was impossible to think that was coincidence. If it was something else, though, Alaric didn’t have any idea what it was.
“Are you going to try to influence me?” Ayda’s voice slipped out of the darkness next to Alaric’s ear, causing him to start.
“Of course not,” he answered. It wasn’t worth pretending he hadn’t used augmenta on Brandson. Ayda probably knew he had. “You seem to be an expert at influencing people. Even for an elf.”
Ayda laughed, stepping out of the darkness and settling herself beside him on the grass.
“Influencing is such a vague idea, isn’t it? It comes in all different forms. Am I still influencing people if they just like me?” She cocked her head to the side, looking at Alaric. “But I don’t know that I could affect you, at least not without some actual effort. That is unusual, you know.”
Alaric snorted. “You don’t actually believe that.”
He couldn’t quite pull his eyes away from her. There was something fascinating about Ayda. Something shimmery around the edges, something warm radiating out, something troubling tucked in the background. Elves had a sort of intensity about them that humans and dwarves lacked, but Alaric had never met one whose intensity was so… visible. So glittery.
“Why are you such a challenge, I wonder?” She rose up and walked to the fire.
He focused on the skin of her arm, trying to catch what sparkled.
She knelt and stretched her hand straight into the fire. Alaric gasped and started forward, but she pulled her hand back out, pinching off one small flickering flame between her unharmed fingers. There was no kindling or fuel, just a single flame. She gazed at it with a pleased expression while Alaric stared at her open-mouthed. Lifting it close to her mouth, she blew on it. Starting from the bottom, the flame grew still and hardened, forming a smooth crystal.
She walked back to Alaric, pulling up a piece of long grass on her way. Stretching it between her fingers, she set the end of it against the side of the crystal and pushed. The blade of grass pierced it, leaving the orange flame dangling like a gem on a chain.
“There you are,” she said. She knelt down next to him and tied the necklace around his neck.
Alaric sat, too stunned to move.
“You are better suited to fire than leaves,” she added, motioning to Douglon who still wore his chain of oak leaf stems.
Alaric reached up to touch the necklace. It felt like a piece of glass slightly warmed from the sun. The gem was the exact likeness of the flame.
It would have taken Alaric weeks to theorize a way to do that, and even then, he probably would have only ended up with burnt fingers. Elves’ magic was elemental, but this was different. They talked to trees and helped flowers grow, but he had never heard of an elf manipulating fire like that. Fire couldn’t be changed to stone. The two things were too different. What she had done should be impossible.
He raised his eyes to hers warily. She showed no sign of pain. It was as though she paid no price for the magic.
“Why are you such a challenge?” she repeated. Even though her smile remained pleasant, her gaze pierced into his mind.
He tried to wrench his gaze away, but he was pinned.
He couldn’t even blink.
She
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