The elven slaver known as Kreios was in the foulest of foul moods. He had just left a slave auction in Ketra where the profits had been much lower than expected and still a quarter of his product remained in his possession. Now the axle of one of his supply wagons had just broken causing the cart to topple and spill its contents into the mud. The slaves who had been tied to it fell and tripped over each other as they were dragged down along with it.
It all made the man scream with rage and kick the nearest elf in the head. Blood spurted from the now broken nose as the male moaned and curled in further around himself, praying that would be the end of the assault. It turned out that it was as the man rounded on a tall blonde woman who stepped around from the other side, awaiting orders.
"I told you to check the wheels before we left! Now we've lost everything," he hissed. "You're useless!" He spat at her before latching onto her hair and dragging her to her knees. Navarre looked up at her master, eyes large with fear and guilt. It did not matter that she had checked the axles, seen them to be weakened, and reported it. Kreios did not care about anything except blaming someone for his problems.
He shook her roughly, bringing tears to her eyes that only served to further enrage. "Don't you give me those false tears. They don't work on me, pet. This entire mess is your fault. You brought me this worthless crop. Now what am I supposed to do with them? Without buyers they are wasteful mouths to feed. And you, you've been feeding them extra. Don't lie to me I saw you!"
With a forceful shove he threw her to the ground. "We make camp here! And you, you're going in the box tonight."
"Master!"
"Be silent!"
Navarre cowered back down, waiting for Kreios to move back to his own horse before turning towards the slaves sitting up from their fallen positions and attempting to check for injuries. "This is your doing, filth," she growled at them, revealing her own hatred. "He'll kill you for this." The elf smiled cruelly as she informed them of their painful fate. "He'll make you suffer and wish you had been bought like all the rest and then, he'll let me hunt you. Then your heads will roll one by one." She giggled at the idea, taking pleasure in the fear reflected within their dull cow-eyes. "Then you'll die."
The only filth that he could readily see was residing beneath the thick branches and overgrown leaves that had yet to fall in the seasonal shift. In the thickest parts of the Draconi Forest, the wilds were overgrown, and even the roads were dark with shadow and brush and uneven at the smoothest point. He had been tracking this caravan and wagon in particular for the longest time, miles had passed under him, and he was simply waiting for the longest moment.
Theiryk was alone in his hunt, as he always was in times like these, for even he hadn't exactly come up with a direct plan of action. That and the fact that others had planned to stay behind with the clan. His mind lingered elsewhere, than just those that resided below. While he hung in the branches nonchalantly, he wasn't worried of being exposed. He was one with the trees, and blended in as if nothing more than a part of its bark, its branches, its yellowed and orange leaves.
He wasn't exactly on good terms with Veris. He was sickened with a mysterious disease, but despite his condition, he did not want to see Theiryk, even after all that happened. The home had once known was all in shambles, the people he loved he did not recognize them. His brother...Trevan. He'd grown strong, wise, but was stoic to Theiryk, knowing he would carry on the spear left behind by their father. And what was left for Theiryk, the lone Wild Elf? He was nothing more than a shadow to them. And they to he.
Theiryk's hand gripped the bow he had in hand and in his fury, he twitched until the leaves rustled around him. Eyes looked up, but he'd retreated back just in time. When the noises below grew strenuous, he leaned over the side, hearing their voices carried up on the wind.
The older man was angry, frustrated that their carriage had broken down and rolled his stock of slaves down onto the side. He reprimanded the blonde one, her yellowed hair veiling momentary pain. Pain that quickly turned to hatred.
His eyes widened. And he felt a cold hand seep into the pit of his stomach as he watched and waited, eying the slaves below as Kreios cracked a whip and there were a few screams that echoed up to him. His stomach turned again, he felt like retching. But all he could do for now was watch and wait.
Navarre went about her tasks in apathetic silence. Some of the slaves were forced into assisting with righting the broken wagon, Kreios' whip cracking mercilessly across their backs and whistling dangerously close to the blonde's pointed ear. She did not cry out but worked harder at pushing, her booted feet sliding in the mud just as much as the scantily men beside her.
Kreios continued to take his anger out on everything and everyone. His men for the most part kept to themselves, setting up the camp in the same silence as Navarre for fear of drawing attention to themselves.
Supplies were recovered and assessed for damage. Slaves were regathered and bonds were transferred to metal spikes set deep within the earth to prevent escape into the threes. Kreios was paranoid man and did not trust allowing elves to be so close to the trees. He believed the devils could commune with nature to free themselves and had drunkenly claimed to any that would listen how he had seen such things in his youth.
A snap of the master's fingers, had Navarre kneeling beside Kreios' chair in a matter of seconds. Her eyes were downcast, face impassive, and back ramrod straight as she waited for further orders. The man placed a hand on her head and soothingly combed his fingers through her hair, causing her to instinctively lean into his gentle touch, her eyes drooping in pleasure.
"Such trouble you are my pet. What am I to do with you? Returning to me with impure product, disobeying orders, betraying me by helping slaves, bewitching my men. Ragioh told me he saw what an abomination you are." His hand formed a brutal grip on the roots of her hair, dragging her head to the side at an extremely painful angle.
"You know better than that. I did not nurture you, slave to become a whore. This is how you repay me? Nothing to say for yourself?" Kreios did not even give her the chance to speak as he dragged her like a ragdoll up to a standing position with him.
Ragioh and another man by the name of Agiov came forward with a heavy trunk which they placed before master and slave. The first man leered openly at the woman's fate, enjoying how the lies he had been spreading out of spite now caused her to quake in terror, the whites of her eyes revealed on all sides like a frightened mare. The other slaves equally watched with various states of satisfaction. Every last one of them had answered the cries of a frantic woman and found a band of men eager to beat them into submission waiting for them as she watched on passively.
Agiov took advantage of his employer's distraction to eye up the remaining slaves. Forcefully kicking a younger one aside he snatched up one of the only females of the group, working on untying her even as the other closer males, made to attach him for daring. A few swift and well-aimed kicks left them stunned as he dragged the whimpering girl away and into the treeline.
Normally he would never think to pounce on so many slaves at once, with no one at his back. Not that he had anyone at his back right now. The Master it seemed, a lethargic elf that had taken to grabbing the smaller woman by the hair and holding here there, was in charge of at least seven or eight other men that helped keep his valuable stock in line. He favored the blonde, and his attention made Theiryk's eyes narrow. His hearing was no less sharp, despite the mangled appearance of his ears as he listened to them from overhead.
Yes, she would certainly be nothing more than in the way, if perhaps he acted too soon. The Master seemed content to punish her, for whatever pleasure that would give him, and in her distress, Theiryk knew he wouldn't have to worry about her for too much longer. The Wild Elf watched a stray slaver snatching up one of the females and dragging her off.
Oh the opportunity couldn't have been more perfect. Theiryk leapt from his place on his branch and sped lightly on the wind, moving from tree top to treetop until Agiov was some distance away, dragging his quarry with him. She fought as aggressively as she could despite the bonds he had left around her wrists, holding them up over her head. She was no match for him, when he slammed her on the ground and rolled her over.
Theiryk scowled from his hiding place, and retrieved an arrow from is waist-side quiver, stretching it slowly in the recurve bow he clutched in his left hand. He pulled it taut, holding his breath, waiting for the perfect second until the man was in no position to alert the others, or defend himself. He watched it fly. In a blinding second the arrow sunk home into Agiov's throat, just as he toppled over the female slave. She ceased her cries for that second, as she was covered in a wave of hot blood that splashed over her. Theiryk moved from the shadow, watching her eyes dart up and all around them, a scream boiling over into her throat, her hand struggling to cover herself at the revelation of a stranger.
But the elf put a finger to his lips, shushing softly in a gesture he knew she could understand. Yet it was too late, and her scream ripped from her throat. Thankfully, Theiryk thought she might do just that and before her scream could fall completely from her lips, it was carried off on the wind, and the air through the leaves and the sounds of animals were drawing closer to the camp. The woman was struck for the briefest moment before suddenly running in her fear, haphazardly away from the camp.
Meanwhile, back within its confines, slop was being served to the slaves, poor stock of little more than lukewarm broth and bread. Ragioh scowled at his doings, but voiced no complaint. Navarre would get her come-uppance soon enough. Among other things, though, where was that bastard Agiov! How dare he let him have to serve these elven scum all by himself, while the others could have their own meal and a pint of what beer was pulled from the wagon. Even that bastard Kreios was knocking back a bottle. Likely something stronger than beer.
Ragioh moved toward the outskirts of the camp, after dropping the woman's bowl on the ground, now realizing she was gone. Agiov always did have an appetite he found difficult sate, even more so on long journeys like this. But he shouldn't've been gone for more than ten minutes at most. It was already going on fifteen. And just as he looked out into the inky night, an arrowhead zipped through the darkness at lightning speed, sinking into his chest and killing him instantly.
While her master's faithful dogs disappeared to complete other tasks, Navarre was forced into her own prison, the lid falling shut with a slam overhead as she laid curled up in an unmoving ball within the suffocating darkness. Her heart hammered even harder within her chest to hear the key turn within the lock followed by retreating footsteps. Her master had left her locked within her prison. It took all of her effort to keep her breathing slow and calm even as her hands felt along the front side of the box as if the act of touching it would make it melt away.
She could not tell how long, if it had been seconds or hours later that she heard the shouts of the men who worked for Kreios. Sounds of hurried footsteps vibrated the box and pounded in her ears as she strained to hear what was going on. It was no use though. One of the curses of the box was being made of thick wood that hampered even her good hearing. Her master liked to keep her feeling as helpless and vulnerable as possible when she was being punished.
Outside the box that had become Navarre's pressing world, Ragioh's death had been noticed by Toow who sounded the alarm when he had seen the body of his cousin drop. The remaining men rallied together, forming a protective circle about the merchandise as they looked about warily for the next arrow to fly. Kreios himself retreated to the shadows of his wagon placing him out of sight of where the arrow had flown from.
There was dead silence following the attack that had killed Ragioh. And the wind began to pick up around them. It quickly started to howl, picking up leaves and swirling violently in some places. The man who noticed the body cried out to rally his men, but the rest of them were quickly growing in unrest when suddenly Theiryk moved through the canopy of trees at a lightning pace, his feet running over the branches with deft footing, passing above them in little more than blinking shadows.
The wind rustled clumps of leaves to form shapes, of other beings in the trees, to make it seem as if they were surrounded on all sides. Theiryk paused momentarily in their confusion, firing an arrow into one man's throat, leaping into another tree and firing another, shooting him in the leg and downing him. "Get that bastard!" Simeon, the lead guard, shouted over the howling winds.
The Wild Elf flew off from the branches and smashed the ground in a roll, pulling another arrow from his quiver, leaning back on a knee, with one leg extended, shooting the leg-wounded guard in the chest, making him squeal as his life faded from him.
Kreios banged on the wagon, rousing men that had been resting within and called them out to fight. Some died before their feet touched the ground while others flooded out into the clearing to rally with their brothers.
From inside her box Navarre howled and banged her fists against the side of it, wishing to be free. This was her fight as much as any other man's. She had her master to defend and their property. It was simply not right nor fair that her punishment extended to listening to her people die at the hands of some unseen monster.
Suddenly the lock clicked and she was bursting out of the box in seconds. The man who had freed her pressed her sword into her hand before turning and attempting to flee. Navarre killed him where he stood for daring abandon her master in his time of need.
While men gathered in the center, doing their best to shield themselves as sitting ducks, the Avariel slowly approached her blade singing as she cut down any wayward arrows or disloyal men who dared attempt to flee. Some men began to cut the slaves free only to use them as living shields. Those faces she remembered to inform her master later. They would be forced to pay for the stock they wasted. The crop was to be protected not decimated.
She was just in time to catch a glimpse of the creature that dared accost them. In a fury the woman raced towards him, eager to cut him down and earn back her master's trust for completing the deed. This would be over soon in her mind.
Soon began the chaos that Theiryk had been hoping for. The more men that joined the fray, the more of them grew prey to their terror, to their desperation, and their hope for survival quickly diminished. Some tried to run, some tried to use their environment to their advantage, some simply charged at the Wild Elf in their fury.
But Theiryk was ready for them. And the instant they were close enough to make contact, Theiryk exchanged his bow for the double-bladed staff that clung to his back. It was curved like a stretched out S with the blades coming out in opposing directions, and at the center was the grip with a break in the center where he could easily unhook them together and turn them into two separate swords, in a flash of steal.
He had trained enough with staves to get the basic principles of one, and applied the same ones toward fighting with the double-lbladed staff. It was perhaps the only good thing his former Master had ever given him. Men were felled, or had their limbs severed in dexterous grace. Theiryk ducked, leapt, stepped back, parried and twisted his cruel weapon to sweep out the legs of one opponent, before swinging it around him to sever his head.
It rolled on the ground.
Where he'd originally counted 8 men on patrol, it seemed many more resided on the wagon, and had quickly tried to swell around him. But the tide had given and those that had not been killed (a few slaves in the process) had run away. A few stragglers were struggling to get their bearings around them. Theiryk turned and saw the only one left standing in his way was a woman barreling toward him like a bat out of hell. Theiryk dropped low to the ground, giving him a low center of gravity and threw himself on his back when she was in range. His legs shot out, sticking into her stomach and throwing her over his head like a catapult, using her own momentum against her.
"Get the hell out of here," Theiryk growled at her, spinning the weapon before him after rolling back to his feet. "Run for your life while you still can!"
She grunted as she was thrown forward and rolled midair to land on her feet facing the being that had tossed her like a ragdoll. Navarre bared her teeth in warning even as she braced herself in a crouch with one hand on the ground.
For a moment, the elf evaluated the creature before her, judging the best course of action even as she called back to him. "My orders are your head. There is no way forward and I cannot go back. This is the only way! Now hold still!" Once more she lunged towards the man, furious at having been knocked aside so easily, her blade once more swinging for his head. Moments before she reached him though, she drove her foot into the dirt sideways so that it kicked mud up at him in an attempt to distract him from her oncoming attack.
Theiryk steeled his nerves and kept his stance at the ready, to spring into her or over her should the need arise. When she came barrelling towards him again, he was about to swing upward when the dirt came flying toward his eyes. He closed them in enough time to stagger backwards while still bringing up his sword, clanging her out of the way.
He jumped back, giving ground, swinging the staff down toward her legs and summoning the wind to dance in her hair, entangling it around her face before spinning on his hee, dropping his other leg out in a crouch and aiming to trip her instead
The shock of his blade against hers reverberated down through her arm causing her to rebound back in time to avoid the staff only to have her hair whip into her face and blind her vision. In an attempt to regain her bearings, Navarre moved to back away only to trip on an outstretched leg and crash onto her behind.
A cry of surprise more than pain sounded from her sweet lips as she swung her sword up over her head to protect herself from an incoming blows. "Please," the elf begged, her eyes filling with tears. "He won't let me escape. Please you must help me! If I run he'll only find me again. I've tried before," she whimpered to him, letting her voice fill with the same tears that had led many before him to their serfdom.
Theiryk had never thought to give pause to his savagery and waited the moment she took to plead with him. But he stood over her and held his sword at the ready. "What the hell are you going on about? Likely lies uttered by a witch woman on her last legs! Like I'd fall for that!"
There was a sudden scurrying sound from behind the wagon and Theiryk looked up in time to watch the man that he had seen to be the Master running away from them, vanishing into the brush. "Looks like your master left you to die." he scowled at her.
Navarre looked off in the direction of her fleeing master and felt her chest lock up in despair causing her to gasp for air. Her head shook from side to side as her body shook violently. "No, no he'll be back. This has happened before. He always comes back. It does not matter. He always finds me. Please! I'm begging you, you must help me! He will hunt me down. He never gives up. Please you're my only hope."
Tears streamed down face while the elf rocked back in forth in place, her arms wrapped around her as she cried. Over and over she begged him to help her, her voice rising and following as she hyperventilated, struggling to breathe through her sobbing.
Theiryk was taken aback by the sheer desperation in her eyes. She no longer proved a present threat at the moment and so he stepped away from her and back to the slaves that still remained in binds. He observed them all... "Elves," he murmured. Some of them younger then ten years of age. He bit back his rage long enough to let the rest of the slaves go. Many of them ran off by sheer insinct, some needed coaxing by those that were too in shock of what happened to realize they were free.
Theiryk turned back to the convulsing woman and narrowed his eyes at her. "Well you're free then!" he shouted several yards away. "Go! Run! What are you waiting for!?"
She watched with veiled disgust as he set the other slaves free and sent them on their way. All of her hard work collecting them was for naught. Navarre did not doubt she would have to double her efforts once she was back with her master again. He would not be pleased at their doubled losses and would likely blame her entirely for it all.
"Where do I go?" she sobbed back, keeping up her act. "He'll just come back. Always...I don't want to die. I don't want to die sir, please. Don't let him kill me. I beg, I'll do anything. Anything you ask if you'll protect me. Please!"
"Drop the act," Theiryk growled with dead eyes and he stepped forward and pressed the tip of a blade of his staff along her throat. "I saw you whipping those slaves! You might be the most pathetic, sniveling servant I have ever seen, but you're in league with him. Don't think you can trick me for a single second, you blithering sow!"
"Sow?" she repeated coldly, her eyes becoming like stone in her anger as the tears ceased instantly. "You dare insult me in such a way cretin? Slave I may be, but worth I still have. What are you even good for?" Her words came out in an ugly hiss.
Navarre was unafraid of the blade at her throat, confident that she would get out of her situation relatively unscathed. She always had in the past, there was no reason to believe now would be any different.
Theiryk's eyes flashed in a vision of red as he suddenly lunged forward and snatched her up by her neck. "You're not slave. And if you are, you're better treated than you deserve. I'm good enough to kill all your men, scare your master off like some worthless pissant and free your quarry that you whipped and beat!" He gave her throat a savage squeeze before throwing her back on the ground.
"Get away from me! And get out of these woods. If I ever find you again, I'll turn you into a belt!"
She land on her hip, coughing and sputtering for air even as her eyes shot daggers at him. "You do not frighten me human. I have but one master whom I obey and you are not him!" Her last words were screamed angrily moments before Navarre dove for her sword in attempt to use it against the man once again.
Theiryk was swift on the wind, his body and the air becoming one as he flashed across the distance between them. In the blink of an eye he was near her and tried to slash for the hand that reached for her sword.
Navarre cursed as her hand was nearly severed by his quick movements. She had but a second to roll out of the way and forsake her sword for her limb. "You tell me to leave and force me to say. Can you not make up your mind or is too small to remember beyond the time it takes you to blink?"
"Fine. You want to fight. We'll have a fight," he growled and used his foot to kick her sword up, and caught it by the blunt edge of the blade, tossing it back to her. "Let's go!" And held his staff at the ready.
The blade landed heavily in her hands but it was a weight she was familiar with. As a slave lure, Navarre was more accustomed to cajoling kind-hearted elves with her tears and pretty face than by force. However, she was still a deadly foe with a blade in her hand.
Her naivety though had made it so she still did not recognize that the man she believed to be human controlled the winds that often fought against her instead of with her. It was quite likely she would lose this fight simply by being uninformed and unprepared.
Determined to end this quickly so that the woman could race back "home" to her master's arms, the elf angrily launched herself towards him first, initiating the fight.
Theiryk had his heels dug into the ground and he leapt backwards when her sword lunged at him. He grit his teeth, spinning on his heels to turn around and slash his blade across her from behind. He turned again and dug the bottom blade into the ground, using it as a pole vault to kick his leg out at her.
Navarre screamed her rage and pain as a blade sliced her cutting just below where her wing bones attached to her frame. It was by luck alone though that she escaped being kicked in the head as he leaped overhead.
Furious at being thwarted, she altered her tactics so that instead of attempting to fruitlessly swing her blade at his neck she aimed for his weapon still embedded in the earth. If she could cleave it in two Navarre knew she had a chance at besting the man before she tired herself out.
The blade had been cleaved in two, but the force of the blow was enough to dislodge it from the earth and the force knocked him to the ground. Theiryk lost his breath and his head for a mere second, and he rolled off to the side, giving ground and gauging her once again with narrow eyes.
While he waited for her move, Navarre continued with rushing him. Her impatience stemmed from a need to please and might get her killed but the Alvariel was never one to play with the prey and draw things out. The sooner this was over with the sooner she could return to her master and regain his favor. He was himself not a patient man and already she knew she may face more time in her tiny prison for taking so long.
That thought alone caused her to roar in anger as she swung out wildly, her arms screaming with the efforts to strike.
Theiryk gave ground once more, but it left him little time to prepare for her rushing assault. He blocked one oncoming strike, but when she was left open, he swooped in and whirled around her, and he tried to restrain her in his arms, using the handle of his staff to keep her arms down. "Surrender!" he growled.
She grunted and struggled uselessly against his strong grip. Navarre was not strong enough to escape though and she screamed in his face out of rage. She gritted her teeth in rage and frustration. How dare he order her to surrender. He was not her master. He had no right.
But, when she found that she could not escape, she finally spoke. "What are you going to do with me if I do? Going to become my master? Bend me to your will?"
"I'll tell you what I do if you don't. I'll separate your head from your body and send it to your Master as a remnant of your precious service," Theiryk said, squeezing her tighter too him. His arms could snap her in two if he wanted, or snap her spine against the grip of his staff. But he would vastly prefer if he didn't have to.
Her breath whistled through her nose as she breathed quickly, eyes ever defiant in the face of her captor. She hurt under his touch but recognized by the tension of his arms he was holding back. She could die in his hands and that was not something Navarre was looking to do yet.
"You wouldn't find him anyway," she spat back though, raising her chin confidently to meet his eyes coolly.
"No matter," Theiryk replied just as calmly. "Then I'll throw your sorry ass into the river." He grinned wickedly. "I bet he wouldn't even shed a tear. He was probably considering it anyway after locking you in that box." And he laughed loudly into her face.
Mention of the box made her face go ashen as her body convulsed within his hands. "He wouldn't," she whispered, her words shuddering fearfully past her lips. "My Master is good and kind. My Master loves me."
His grin only grew more sinister at the look on her face. "Then tell me...why did he run away?"
"He didn't run away. He left because he trusted me to finish the job," Navarre growled back venomously. "Why would my Master stay when he knows I am strong enough to obey? You are weak. You could never understand!"
"Maybe it's a good thing he didn't stck around. It'd be humiliating for him to watch you die," Theiryk growled. "But you're too much of a fool to see that. I don't have a Master. I obey no one!"
She fought him again, desperate to be free and disgusted by her own inability to escape. "I'm not going to die," Navarre told him confidently. "Nor am I fool. You wait, you'll regret doing this to me! When he comes back, he'll make you the slave. He'll break you like all the rest and you'll beg him in the end. They always do."
Theiryk stared at her wide eyed for the longest time. "You know nothing... You don't know know what suffering is! I'll show you suffering! I'll break you!" He let her go at last and moved quickly toward a whip he saw thrown across the ground. Snatching it up, he abruptly turned and lashed it out at her with no mercy.
Navarre scoffed as she was released, believing him done with her and his threats to be empty lies until the bite of a whip cracked against her hide. The leather curled around her shoulder to her back as it tore across not only her delicate skin but the wound she had already received by his doing.
The pain brought her to her knees and forced a blood-curdling scream from her pale throat, making her sound like a harpy giving its shrill death cry. Panting through the pain, she forced her gaze to raise to his own in unmitigated defiance. "You cannot break me," the Avariel hissed, "I will not let you."
"You don't know what it means to be a slave, to know the pain of imprisonment!" Theiryk howled again as he whiled around, the whip cracking in his hand with another lash. He cracked it once more across her back until it sang out. "I'll break you all right. I'll make you MY slave!"
A second scream followed on the heels of the lash. Navarre dug her hands into the earth, clawing at the ground as she writhed in pain. "No," came her broken howl, her head shaking violently from side to side. "You're not my Master! Not Master!"
Her body rocked back and forward as she tried to deal with the pain and clear her mind. Her entire back had begun to burn. Her top had torn under attack revealing the now abused flesh beneath it along with hints of scarred flesh. The tiny wing bones near her shoulders raised beneath the fabric, stretching it tightly up at a strange angle. Had she still had her wings they would have moved to try and protect her as a shield. Without them the bones still reacted as they should have without the rest of the appendages. "Never be my master," she cried.
Theiryk was about to lash her for a third time when the cloth on her back fell away and the appendages there struck him as odd. And then he saw the scars. He made a noise then of the grotesque cuts and remnants that scarred over. They were perhaps as bad as his had been. Even now he still flinched to the touch if someone made contact with his scarred flesh.
"Gods," he murmured, hald breathless. "Why would you let him do this to you?" His anger and hate and disgust were boiling over, leaving him trembling and gripping the whip handle hard.
"He saved me. Master made me beautiful," Navarre whimpered quietly. Her eyes closed while she spoke in a soft teary whisper. "Elves are a disgusting race of inbred animals," she recited with enough venom and contempt so as to sound as if she believed it, which coincidentally, she did.
Once started though she did not fear stopping. It was as if she had forgotten her captor was even there as the words just kept tumbling out, her words becoming stronger and more emotional as she spoke.
"Avariels are the worst alive. Murderers! Thieves! Liars! Master was good to me. Master saved me. Master took care of me, protected me, taught me. Master loves me! Master loves me!" she screamed, trying to throw herself at him to tear his eyes out.
He couldn't believe what he was hearing, the kind of nonsense that passed her lips. His eyes widened in both disbelief and disgust just as she got on her roll. "Are you insane!? Do you even hear yourself?" he cried out. But before he knew it, she lunged at him and he reacted instinctively.
He lashed the whip out again and struck her legs to keep her at bay. "He's a crack-up! He lied to you!" he shouted sharply. "Unless...you actually believe everything he told you... By the Gods...you do!"
She yelped in pain, quickly dropping back to the ground again. "No you're the liar! Elf-sympathizer! How could you as one of the superior race side with them? How do you not see them for what they are, creatures that require constant vigilance and discipline that are unable to see to their own basic needs? My Master was selfless in his desire to safe me. There are many who cannot say the same. Why do you seek to hinder that?"
"For more reasons that you could know or understand!" Theiryk suddenly replied in a low dangerous voice. It eas his turn to lunge at her, blinded by anger as he struck at her hard with the butt of the whip handle to knock her out.
His voice sent shivers down her spine for it warned her of the imminent danger that she was in. She did not understand the line that she had crossed. Navarre had known no other life than that of her master's pet and even then she was filled to the brim with his poisonous lies.
There was no time for her to react more than raise her hands defensively before he was moving to strike her. Blooming pain cracked across her temple followed by numbing blackness that stole her senses. Navarre dropped unconscious to her side like a discarded sack. A small trickle of blood trailed down her pale face from the point of impact. Whenever she woke, if she woke, Navarre was going to have one hell of a headache.
When she awoke, she would find herself bound at her wrists and ankles and hoisted over a makeshift sled that Theiryk had fashioned from the remains of the carriage. He had rummaged through what was left, carried the gold on his belt and took what supplies could be found, things for market or could be fashioned for general use, tools, weapons, skivs and arrowheads.
Her....now. He hadn't quite decided what it was he was going to do with her just yet. But...for some reason he couldn't just have her running around like a mad woman, or risk going back to her "Master" to possibly hire a passel of men to after him. For now...for now she was to be tied until further notice.
Navarre returned to the world of the living very slowly. A fierce throbbing made her head spin and she reached to touch it only to find she that she could not move her hands. Pain forgotten she was instantly awake and fighting. She tugged relentlessly on her bonds yet neither those about her hands nor her feet would come loose.
Finally forced to give up, she grunted in displeasure and tried to look around. The thoughts that flooded her mind were conflicting. There was relief at not being returned to her box, distress at being held captive, hope that her master would be coming for her soon, and fear that the horrible man may have been right. That last idea was quickly suppressed before it could cause her any further panic.
"Good to see you settled back there," Theiryk called back when he heard her rummaging. "There's a village not too far up ahead who would love to treat a no good slaver to a pinch of bite and bump. Or if you're lucky your precious master will come gallantly riding to your rescue. This ought be a true test of his loyalty."
She squirmed about to try and catch a glimpse at him, glaring in his direction as she did. "Not a slaver," she growled back at him. "I'm a lure. Master is the slaver and I am but his instrument. My service is the least I can do for the man who raised and nurtured me, not that a fiend like you would understand!"
Navarre huffed and wiggled about some more having found that being bound was not a comfortable state of being at all. She ignored his talk of testing her master's loyalty for if anyone needed testing she believed it was herself. "He hates horses," came a muttered response not meant to be heard by her unwholesome incarcerator.
"Then I'm sure you'll lure a few of those men into having a heart attack when they see the likes of you. You talk of liars, thieves, and dastardly creatures. I'm sure you'll love a visit to Banridge Hollow." Theiryk did not frequent the establish much himself, but he knew it was very much a more localized form of the infamous Zantaric that was prevalent to the south of the continent.
It was a haven for thieves and bandits and rogues, and those of the criminal elite, though little more than a festering wound in the eyes of the local Magistrates and nobleman. Measures to have Banridge Hollow removed from the Draconi Forest were often met with extreme force or cleaned up their operations to make it seem as if the settlement was little more than a regular, tax paying village.
But Theiryk knew the place was dangerous enough for the people who lived there than those that simply passed through. It wasn't uncommon for a 'snitch' to go missing, and suddenly wind up down river. Which was one reason Theiryk never got closer than he had to. Sell off a few stolen goods, make a bit of gold, and get out as fast as he could. Now another thing the residence of Banridge didn't take too kindly too were slavers, or those that captured prisoners and sold them into slavery as punishment. And it was inadvisable for anyone present in the area that traded in the business, to say so openly.
As they loomed closer and closer to the settlement, cleverly hidden beneath the tops of the trees, Theiryk's eyes grew darker and darker. Sure, he knew he was taking the woman to be served as live bait to a bunch of slaver-hating criminals that likely all would want to get a piece of her - some a bit more literally than others - but she deserved it... She would only lure more slaves...more of his kind, even if they were not kin, to their doom, their death, their suffering.
"Won't be long now," he said with a small smirk. "Banridge Hollow. Nice place to live."
Banridge Hollow, a place Kreios had told her never to go without ever an explanation why. The very name of it made Navarre feel cold and hollow if only because she knew it would incite his wrath should he find out she had disobeyed him. It was not clear to her what the man meant when he said the things he did or why the inhabitants of the village would be interested in her but she did not like it one bit.
"Is that where you live then, among those of like-mindedness? Liar and thief that you are the only thing missing is being anything other than human. But then again perhaps having another man's living property that is cursed with being far from human makes up for that. Lucky you," she hissed sarcastically. "You know you never answered what you would do with me. Or rather what you're going to try to do."
She still didn't get did she? That was a shame. Theiryk sniffed and turned back to look at her with quirked brow. "You really can't figure it out? I'm taking you to a place where slavers and slave 'lure' are the lowest of the low. The kinds of people that live in Banridge Hollow despise you and all your kind with a simmering passion. In effect, darling, I'm throwing you out as a lamp to the wolves."
"And one more thing...stop calling me human," he growled, trudging along once more.
"Why? It's what you are," Navarre scoffed, rolling her pretty little eyes in disbelief. "Wouldn't they hate you master for forcing me into enslavement and on top of that daring to bring me into the center of their home. You said yourself they don't like slavers. Makes you a bit of a hypocrite now doesn't it."
She yanked viciously against her bonds, grunting against the pain but knowing it would leave its mark. "They'll tear you apart just as easily as me."
At her tone, he laughed and shook his head. "Foolish little, imp," he scoffed at her. "I wouldn't exactly call it hypocrisy. For one, there's a few things wrong with your theory. You see, they know me better than they know you. I've done quite a bit of business with the brigands of Banridge. And they know what my sentiments are about slavers. You...you on the other hand..."
He laughed again and shook his head. "And I'm not a human. I'm an elf. Much like those slaves you were carting across the forest. Goes to show what you know, considering you're an elf too. Imp."
She eyed him in confusion, unable to tell if he was mocking her or speaking the truth. "You do not look like an elf," she protested, her brows knitting together in bewilderment as her voice became defense. "What is that even supposed to mean anyway? I know my place as an Avariel," the word came out as a spitting hiss, "I have come to accept it. You do not need to drive salt further into old wounds. I know that being born as such gave me no right to life yet you are one to talk. You hide what you were so that the masters of this world will except you. At least I know my place! Can you say the same?!"
"Oh yes, I know my place. I know where I belong. And that's to stop bastards and whores like you from stealing away a person's right to live!" Theiryk growled. "I do not hide what I am! But someone thought it fitting to snatch tear that part from me!" He stopped abruptly and crawled over the sled and knelt beside her, parting his hair and showing the disfigured ears that had been slashed and ripped apart. "What do you make of that?"
Navarre flinched as he suddenly close to her. Yet, the moment her eyes caught sight of his disfigurement her fingers were flexing as if to reach out and touch it despite their inability to do so thanks to her bonds. She was quiet for several heartbeats as she took it all in and what the implications of it were. Of course due to her upbringing, her mind put quite a twist to it.
"Someone must have cared for you very much to try and protect you as Master did me. Is that why you're so bitter? Did someone steal you from your master?"
Anger boiled underneath and he had to do everything to resist slapping her hard across the face in that moment. In fact, his hand and raised and flew and nearly met her cheek when he stopped short of it. He grit his teeth and shook his head. "Don't you get it? My 'benevolent and beloved Master' did this to me... Tch, just when I thought you couldn't get any stupider," he shook his head and stepped off from her, resuming the pull from the sled.
"But I guess I should look on the bright side," he added. "At least I didn't have to get locked in a box.'
A cry of fright escaped her as Navarre tensed, expecting to be struck only to find he had changed his mind at the last moment. 'Isn't that what I said? His master tried to protect him just as mine did me. He tried to make him look human so that he could not be forever looked down upon. How is that wrong? Why is he so stubborn so as to not see the truth?'
The elf gasped and convulsed at the mention of the box. Her greatest fear was her most common form of punishment, to be locked within that tiny dark box where even the air seemed to press in on her from all sides, crushing her with it's weight.
"Then you were a better slave than I," she whimpered. "Master says I'm wicked. I make so many mistakes. He is so forgiving and tries so hard to teach me. I never learn," Navarre said, her voice cracking. Hot tears began to trail down the sides of her face, falling into the collar of her top uncomfortably. "Maybe I am stupid."
She wouldn't understand. It took everything in him not to lunge at her, not to beat her senseless until she knew the fallacy of her words. Theiryk knew the pain of enslavement. His master had never been so kind as to consider him a treasured object. In fact quite the opposite. He was a commodity because he was a rare elf, largely unseen in the rest of the world. But the extent of his value was little more than that.
Especially when he realized just how defiant he proved to be. He should have known better than to try and tame a Wild Elf. But the effort in trying had done more than their fair share in damage...
Theiryk chewed on his lip as he pulled the sled along, down the overgrown path that led toward the western edge of Banridge. His head turned, watching her eyes glisten and tears sprouting from the edge. He sneered at her and furrowed his brows. "You really don't. But as far as I can see, he really only keeps you around for one reason, you look good on his arm. And likely on his lap." Theiryk cackled. "But you're too stupid to realize that you're disposable. There are a thousand more like you. Perhaps even a few with brains. Whatever you think you are to him, whatever you think he thinks you are, one fact remains: You're value is less than you could possibly believe... Why would he waste his energy on trying to be kind? Because he loves you? When you run out of your uses, he won't love you anymore. In fact, I'm sure he doesn't even now. Just as long as he can keep making you believe it; that's all he needs."
"Master isn't like that! He does love me! Why would you say such horrible things about him? I know how worthless I am. Master taught me that. He also made sure I understood how grateful I should be to him for saving my life and putting so much personal effort into my care. I know that. I respect that and I am grateful. Honest I am!"
More tears fell out of frustration as she once more resumed her struggles. "Why are you such a liar and a thief? Your behavior is a perfect example of what he taught me! Elves just take what they want without regards to others and then throw away what they don't want like wasteful, uncaring monsters!"
"I tire of arguing with you, imp," he growled. "Besides you just spew out the same nonsense over and over again, and it gets more and more pathetic each time you say it." Theiryk did his best not to succumb to his anger, to his emotions, to the roiling bubble of sickness that coiled in his gut and threatened to burst. She was blind, too blind for him to want to convince her of the truth.
It would only come back into splatter in his face.
"Well, here we are," he said at last, forcing a grin as they ended up within the first few buildings of Banridge. "I'm sure the locals will make you feel more than at home." He smirked a little and left the sled beside the closes building and reached for her, removing the bonds around her ankles and yanking her too her feet, but keeping her hands tied, dragging her along with him toward the nearest tavern.
You could tell from the smell that it had seen better days, but when Theiryk pushed open the door, once the men on the other side of the door recognized him, they whooped and hollered and one large brute stood up from a chair, kicking it under the table and folding his arms across his chest. "Well, well, if it isn't Theiryk the Hunted. I should skin you for showing your face here in Banridge. What the hell are you doing here?"
"I brought a peace offering. A slaver," he said with a sneer and threw Navarre into his chest. The man caught her and sniffed her. Then he smiled a grin of rotten teeth and felt her arm in his iron grip.
"A slaver eh? She certainly smells pretty enough. And an elf no less!"
She fought him for all that she was worth as he dragged her inside yet it was all for naught. The other elf was too strong and seemed to not even notice as they entered the establishment to be greeted with hoots and hollers.
Her situation was only made worse as she was shoved forcefully into another disgusting creature's arms. It made her sick to her stomach the way he put his hands all over, testing her worth as if she was a prized cow headed for slaughter.
Chest heaving in fury, Navarre turned enough in the man's grip to view her now named captor. "I will not forget your name so easily Theiryk. When my Master comes for me I will be sure to tell him who it was that stole me and beat me, you insolent cur! You cannot treat me like this, I have done nothing wrong!"
"I'm sure your Master will want to turn me into a cloak, to be sure. But he'll have to get in line with the rest of them. They don't call me Theiryk the Hunted for nothing," he said with a laugh and left the man to deal with her as he pleased. "Brosrin, show the little imp around! Introduce her to the other men!" Theiryk smirked and moved toward the bar and the man there served him a tall cold pint.
Theiryk only drank when the mood suited him. And he could use a good drink after all the blabbering done by that awful woman.
"Don't need to be telling me twice!" Brosrin declared with glee as he bodily moved Navarre's fighting form from where she stood to the gathering circle of men. His voice booming with laughter, he shoved her into the throng who proceeded to jeer and toss her about from person to person. They pinched her, slapped her, pulled her hair, and tore at her clothes as they jeered and cheered.
"Not so high and mighty now are you slaver?" a short, stocky man with only a handful of teeth taunted. With her in his grasp he licked her from collarbone to temple, bruising her arms with his bony fingers. Navarre growled in disgust, trying futilely to pull her head away. She did not remain with him for long before another was pulling her towards himself.
"Pretty little thing. What shall we do with her boys? How best to give her a taste of her own medicine? Beat her? Burn her? Whip her hide until she coughs on her own blood? Or I know," the third man said, turning with her in his arms to face Theiryk. "Perhaps we give her a taste of your own treatment, elf. What do you think? Cut off her pretty little ears?"
The talk of torture made Navarre pale whiter than a sheet and the white soft her eyes were clearly visible. It was a struggle to control her breathing as she looked at Theiryk with pained yet defiant eyes. Her skin was already beginning to show lasting impressions of the men's "kindness" through the tattered remains of her blouse. She was frightened but there was still an unwavering belief that Kreios would still come for her before the end.
Theiryk watched with no small amount of pleasure at her man-handling. The men of Banridge were fierce and rough and spared no kindness toward their treatment of Navarre. But at the mention of severing her eyes, Theiryk suddenly straightened and he slammed his glass on the counter. "You'll leave her ears intact, I think. In fact, if you really want to have some fun, break those binds and show her what it's like to be chased like the dog she is."
She did not know what that meant but she certainly did not like the sound of it, especially not when the men cheered, spilling their drinks over her. "Care to join us Theiryk?" Brosrin called out, already beginning to cut her ties. "We'll let you cast the first stone if you wish."
Theiryk shook his head and propped himself up on the counter, grinning. "Nah," he smirked at Navarre. "But I do think I'll take just as much pleasure in having a front row seat!"
The men laughed as they cleared some space, moving chairs and tables out of the way before forming a large perimeter about the room. Navarre was thrown into the middle of the area even as several of the men licked their lips lasciviously.
"Now the rules are simple to understand whore, even for you. If you can break the circle and escape, you are free to go. If you are caught you will pay the price of trying at the hands of whatever man claims you. Now dance for us pretty!"
A crack of whip against her shoulder sent her scuttling forward and right into the hands of man eager to manhandle her further. Navarre screamed and cursed as she was smacked around before being released and sent in a new direction. Repeatedly she was caught and abused before being sent off another way. No matter how hard she tried she could not escape. When she refused to move from the center or moved too slow for them, they threw things at her or cracked the whip across her hide. Navarre screamed herself hoarse in no time. Yet, as tired as she became whenever her eyes looked out towards Theiryk a renewed anger boiled forth and she would fight anew for however short a time her body could withstand her efforts.
Theiryk laughed, cackling and slapping his leg as she was thrown around from man to man. But it wasn't long before his laughter turned to a mere grin. He drank a pint or two, but no more than that, watching the men have their fun. There was more they could do to her of course, it was just a matter of time - and how many drinks they had in their gullets - before this kind of fun just wasn't enough.
When she looked at him with that rage, between her screams, a small grin of satisfaction appeared at the corner of his lips but soon they became less and less. Fifteen minutes in, where most of her clothes were ruined anyway, Theiryk suddenly leapt from the counter and parted through the crowd. "All right, I think she's had enough anyway. There's only so much you can do to a bitch like her before she bleeds too much. Her Master won't be happy about what you've done to her face," he said, sneering at her, but then it simply turned into a burning glare.
"Master!? You said she was a slaver, Theiryk," he growled. "You sayin' you brought us a slave?"
"She's a slaver, just a different breed of one. She's lure, of course. That would explain why she's so pretty, and her haughty attitude, she's obviously treated well. Perhaps not better than she deserves. Her master likely trained her to catch slaves, and drags them all across Adela to see where he can sell his stock. She may be a slave, but she's a slaver all the same. She ain't any better than he is," Theiryk said testily.
Brosrin scowled as looked from Navarre to Theiryk in disgust. "A slave is a slave," he spat. "You deceived us!"
"It is all speculation!" another cried out, moving to stand behind the shaking woman. He pulled her flush against his chest with a snarl. "For all we know it is all conjecture brought on by your own self-hatred!"
The first man stepped forward to get in the elf's face as the others moved to close in around the pair. "The only slaver I see here is one who has long since outstayed his welcome, traitor! You bloodied our hands with an innocent!"
From where she stood, Navarre watched with calculating eyes. One man was far easier to overpower than the many. If the men broke out into a fist-fight, she believed that she could easily slip away to meet her master. Surely Kreios was out there looking for her. He would be livid to hear that she had disobeyed him and entered Banridge Hollow. That was sure to warrant an extended boxing on top of her interrupted punishment.
Theiryk stared at the lot of them with narrow, stony eyes. He stiffened and gripped hard on his quarry, who was suddenly pulled into another man. Honestly! Of all people he expected these fools to believe him over that whore!. His eyes shot around the room at the tossed accusations, and he'd yet to raise a word in his own defense.
When Brosrin came to stare him down face to face, Theiryk straightened and raised his nose to his challenger, and his jaw clenched. His grip on Navarre had slipped, when she was pulled from him, but his eyes never faltered from looking at the larger man. Brosrin was a hulking mass, at least a head larger than Theiryk himself and built like a stone wall. But Theiryk didn't fear him.
"I wouldn't exactly call her innocent blood, Brosrin," he said lowly, in that same chilling voice. "You didn't see what I saw. She is a pawn in her Master's hands, to beat and cower real slaves in their clutches. She's as bad as he is, perhaps worse because she's too blind to see how wrong she is."
The men were divided. Some called out to break her further for her past deeds while others demanded she be left alone; they had wronged her enough. Brosrin himself looked just as conflicted. He growled angrily, placing himself toe to toe with Theiryk.
"What will you do to her? Perhaps you are right. We can teach her better than you, surely that is why you dragged her here in the first place. She is a woman after all. She still has uses we can put her to."
At the threat to "put her to more uses" made Theiryk's eyes suddenly widen and it was appartent even to Brosrin. His grin spread his nasty mouth open and he smiled sinisterly at the ripped-eared elf. "Oh, grown sensitive have you, Theiryk? What do you care? You brought her to us for punishment, so let us finish the job."
"No!" Theiryk growled. "You've had your fun. That's enough!"
Brosrin suddenly grabbed him by the fur lining of his cuirass and he grabbed him up. But Theiryk shot his hand out and jabbed it into Brosrin's eye and the man howled at the sudden explosion to his vision. Theiryk had yanked out his eye, holding the bloody ball in one hand and had but a brief second to escape retaliation from the rest of the men.
Theiryk turned and grabbed Navarre, pulling her after him, "Let's go!"
Using the men's distraction and focus on Theiryk and Brosrin, Navarre viciously slammed her elbow back into her captor's belly before bursting forward straight into the elf's grasp. She did not resist as he yanked her along, instead hurrying to keep up as they raced away from the angry mob of men.
Better to stay with the enemy you knew than the enemy you did not. She recognized well enough that Theiryk had spoken to protect her even if he had fed her to the wolves. Navarre also reasoned that it would be easier to overcome one man than many. Her master would be proud of her quick thinking, she was sure of it.
Yet, even as she ran beside him, Navarre still fought to be released of his hold. Behind her she could hear the anger of the crowd as they spread out and tried to box them both in or corral them towards a deadend. All she wanted though was to be free and back under her master's care and she did not care if that meant leaving Theiryk behind or not.
As the men made sense of what was happening, it wasn't long before they started to close in on Theiryk and the 'slaver' elf within his hard grasp. He had no intention of letting her go so easily now, and he had no intention of letting her be ripped apart by these men, as he was sure was their true intention toward her, even if they said otherwise.
There was no law in a place like Banridge, no measure of mercy levied onto those that were truly innocent. Even in their kindness resided a bloody cruelty that would spare no one in sight, not even supposed allies. And Theiryk had known the risk he was taking in dragging the woman in a place like this. Come to think of it, he expected them to take the revelation of her servitude much better than this. This wasn't going exactly as he had planned.
But that was the whole point of being flexible, wasn't it!?
Theiryk took Navarre up into his arms, throwing her legs over one arm before he jumped up the wall at the bare side of the tavern and leapt up into the rafters. Men scrambled to get to the second floor before they made it, and Theiryk leapt for the open smoke pit window, rolling out to the hay of the roof. He set her down then and dragged her with him to the other end, as men scrambled outside and began to arm bows and crossbows and fired them up at the two elves running along the roof.
Navarre squawked the moment that she was scooped up into the elf's arms and bounced around like a sack of potatoes. She kicked her legs about but was otherwise helpless to squirm free of his grip. Her slight frame put her at a serious disadvantage.
She was no sooner on her feet again than she was being dragged off, hay now tangled in her hair and clothes. Arrows began to whiz past them, striking the roofing at their feet or flying through the air by their ears. Navarre even felt one breeze right past the tip of her nose as her feet faltered in their steps.
A glance ahead noted that they were nearing the edge of the roof. She moved to try and run beside Theiryk instead of behind him when the slight glint of metal caught her eye from across the ridge ahead. Acting on instinct alone, Navarre had but a moment to yank with all of her weight on his arm before the intended ambushing arrow grazed them both. Had she not, the Avariel would have been caught in the grasp of a dead elf. It had been perfectly aimed to cut clean through his throat.
Not a single word left her mouth as Navarre pursed her lips together, offering Theiryk a very pointed look of disapproval.
His heart was beating wildly in his chest, Theiryk couldn't focus on everything that was happening at once. Some men had managed to make it out to the roof, following their path from the rafters, while others were focusing their shots on aiming arrows. The whizz, zip, and soft sigh of flying arrowheads and shafts only made the Wild Elf even more anxious as he leapt for the end of the roof.
But alas, he felt something suddenly yank him backwards, his head having fallen into the path of a deadly iron tip. He nearly fell on her, but his hips twisted to where he stumbled on his knees and looked up at her with wide, incredulous eyes. But there was no time to question her as he got to his feet again and pulled her to the opposite end of the roof and suddenly summoned the wind to whirl around them.
It was an invisible gust until Theiryk pulled her off the tall roof and the wind moved under their feet and tossed them other roof, promptly dissipating behind them.
The feeling of being catapulted through the air took her breath away, stopping her from letting loose the scream she so desperately wanted to release. In a flash though they were off again, this time with Navarre keeping astride with him. She had just as much reason to flee as him. She decided she would work out escaping him at a later point in time. For now they at least shared the same goal.
The arrows continued to fly from behind them as the men shouted, coming at them from below as well as directly behind. While the human residents of Banridge Hollow were slower they made up for it with their sheer determination and enthusiasm for the hunt. Brosrin's howl never seemed too far behind them.
"Where are you taking us?" Navarre shouted.
"The only safe place for any elf. To the trees! I hope you liked that last time!" He said in a short moment of warning and suddenly the wind whirled around them again. This time the gap was larger as they reached the edge of town and suddenly the air took them off from the roof and Theiryk's grip held onto her tightly, pulling them both up into the air.
They became one with the wind, in Theiryk's shared power, their forms blurring, whirling almost as if they simply vanished from sight. But this time the distance was greater and the rush toward the tops of the trees, exhilarated the Wild Elf to yell out a brilliant Whoop of excitement. The distance was at least a mile and a half away from Banridge and if the criminals were dogged enough to keep their pursuit, they had an advantage of distance.
Theiryk landed just on a massive branch, their forms materializing once more, and he pulled her up onto the branch beside him, helping her keep her balance. He couldn't help himself. He was grinning ear to ear at her for a few seconds before it promptly vanished and he cleared his throat, resuming his stern look.
"Wha-AAAA!" This time she did scream as they hurtled into the air, no close building to jump to in sight. Navarre had absolutely no interest in trying to escape him like this and clung to him desperately with the arm he did not have a hold of. She even went so far as to bury her face in his neck, terrified to see what was going on.
The moment her feet touched solid ground, she allowed her eyes to take a peek open before Navarre squeaked in horror and slammed them shut again. She refused to relinquish her hold around his neck, molding herself against him as she shook like a leaf in the wind.
"Don't you dare drop me," the Avariel whispered hoarsely, terrified he would do that very thing.
"We're safe in a goddamn tree,' he growled and wrenched her grip from his neck, and hoping she'd fall onto the branch beside him. He gave her a dangerous look, knowing she'd try just about anything to escape and then observed the wounds she had suffered at the hands of the men.
"Geeze, you bruise like a peach," he commented idly, poking her cheek."
Her arms pinwheeled in response to him throwing her away and only stopped once she was able to cling to a branch that was level with her shoulder. His touch caused Navarre to flinch and hiss in pain.
She was scared and he was only making things worse. Navarre had never been in a tree before nor had she ever been away from her master for such a long period of time nor had she been beaten so badly in as long as she could remember. Her eyes reflected her fear and her sense of betrayal. This elf had made her another man's amusement before "rescuing" her from it.
It was not something she understood and the confusion only made her more upset. "If you don't like to see it then maybe you shouldn't have let them beat me so, or perhaps you only regret not being the one to leave your own marks. Is that why you whisked me away, so you can begin round two?"
Theiryk first gave her a look of indignation, but soon his eyes took on a cold glaze that were directed at her. "No," he said sharply. But was unwilling to add anymore to it. He knew he had fed her to the wolves, perhaps as a means of taking her down a notch. After she had been sufficiently thrashed, there was no need for further retribution, even if she hadn't truly seen the error of her ways. He measured the chances of her mind being set on revenge sometime between now and later. But it was coming either way.
Theiryk licked his lips for a moment and shook his head. "No. Let's get you farther up. Don't be afraid of the tree. It's not going to kill you. Unless you harm it first. Let me look at your wounds," he said after a decisive once over and gestured her to start walking along the branch.
She did not trust and she feared him. While Navarre heard his words, she did not necessarily belief them. So when he gestured her forward she went backwards. Still clinging to the branch overhead her feet backpedaled until she felt the bough dip with her weight. Another step further and it would dump her.
Over and over she shook her head, refusing to budge forward. "You'll only hurt me," she whispered fervently. "Master was right, elves are heartless. You wanted them to kill me, didn't you?"
"If it happened, I would not have shed any tears," Theiryk said honestly. "But no. I did not intend for them to kill you. They would have done much worse than death if I had not intervened. Now you are going to fall if you don't let go of that branch. The bark is good to tread on, and you will not fall if you don't trust the bough to carry you."
"I'll fall if I do let go!" she protested, clinging to it tighter. "Why did you put me in this stupid tree to begin with? Feet belong on the ground not high above it! Why are you so insistent on torturing me like this? What did I ever do to you?"
Theiryk was getting irritated and may as well have pushed her out of that tree, but instead he shook his head roughly and proceeded to walk past her, nearly nudging her off.
She squealed as she teetered where she stood before her arms once more came to encircle Theiryk this time around his chest from behind. Navarre pressed her face against his back and clung tightly. "Fine you win! Now stop this please!"
"Hold yourself together dammit!" he growled as she clung to him. He bristled at her touch and nearly stumbled forward on the branch, but he held himself on a vine that hung above his head. "Hey! Let go o' me! There isn't anything to be scared of!"
Navarre shook her head fiercely. "There is everything to be afraid of!" She let out a pitiful whimper as she tried to keep steady. "If I fall it's a long way down. Master would be so angry if he knew. Not allowed in trees or Banridge Hollow or..." She shuddered and did not finish her sentence.
It was with great reluctance that Theiryk resisted the urge to peel her from his back and throw her to the ground several feet below. Thankfully he didn't and he shook his head. "It won't seem long if I throw you down and break that delicate neck of yours," he grumbled. "Hold on then. And don't make me trip or I will do it!"
She made no sound as her head nodded against his back and her grip loosened enough to allow him to move. Navarre kept her gaze trained downward to watch where he placed his feet so thought she could copy in his footsteps. Her heart pounded within her chest and every creak or sway of the branches around them made her tense and freeze with fright.
Theiryk was quiet as he trekked across the top of the branch, painfully slow compared how he usually could traverse the treetops so easily. He paused for a moment before grabbing her hands and peeling them from his chest and settling them around her waist like a belt and continued to walk along the branch. "You are afraid only of what you think think will happen," he siid. "But release your fear because nothing will happen."
Navarre allowed her arms to be readjusted even as she fought to remain calm. There was no way for her to know whether he would suddenly yank her off the branch to throw her to her death or not. It was driving her insane with worry.
"You don't know that," she whispered. "I don't know that. Master will put me in the box when he finds out." That statement caused her to shudder and gulp before she was able to steel herself to continue following instep with him. "You've given me no reason to trust you or to stop fearing."
"Good," Theiryk said plainly. "You don't need to trust me. Just know that I could have dropped you when we walked on the wind. Or left you to die at the hands of those ruffians. But I didn't now walk with me and relax. Goddammit!" He growled and grit his teeth. "As for your master...I won't tell him you've been tree climbing if you don't."
His statement caused her to look up at the back of his head curiously. Taking a deep breath, she did allow her grip to loosen further despite her desire to cling to him and never let go. "Master will know," Navarre told him with certainty. "A good slave does not tell lies or make trouble," she recited, looking straight ahead. "He will ask and I will tell. It is how it is done."
"Then it sounds like you WANT to be put in the box," Theiryk smirked at her punishment. "If you tell him, surely that is your fate."
She shook her head violently. "I cannot lie to Master he always knows and he always asks. Better to tell than to be punished for more indiscretions. I have already caused him enough pain and trouble with my absence now. I deserve whatever punishment he finds fitting to ensure I learn. Master is too kind and forgiving when it comes to his slaves. I must not take advantage of my Master's goodwill."
"Then he must have the nose of a hound if he can smell leaves on you. As pathetic as you are, I guess I shouldn't have expected you to be clever or smart enough to avoid retaliation altogether." Theiryk glare up ahead of him until the branches soared upward in a twining web of leaves, vines and branches. From the smell there were no rival clans in this area so it was safe to linger in for the moment.
Navarre growled angrily, dropping her arms from around his waist and gave him a small shove in the back. "Don't talk of my master that way! What do you know? Just because no one has loved or cared for you the way he has me, doesn't mean you get to be so cruel. I don't care what you say about me but leave him out of this!"
Theiryk stepped back after she pushed him. He said nothing back thought his eyes narrowed at her and instead he gave her a smile. "But you're the one that let go..." He gestured his head to the emptiness below her and beamed wickedly at her having nothing to hold onto.
She scowled at him wanting to slap that smug grin off his face but too far away to do so. Her nostrils flared with her anger and increased breathing as Navarre took one tentative step forward. That step led to another then another as she discovered her balance.
"And your point is?" Her arms still occasionally jerked up to catch herself but, Navarre was starting to find the tree at least for the moment was not quite as scary as she thought it would be, especially if it meant she could get close enough to Theiryk to give him hell for his comments concerning Kreios.
"At least I don't have to hold your hand anymore," he sneered at her, snickering as well. In an about-face and started to walk away from her, running up a vertical branch that was at least seven feet higher up and he motioned her to follow him.
"Weren't holding my hand to begin with," she snapped back. It took her a bit longer but she was soon following him to the best of her ability. Her anger dimmed some as curiosity took rise. As Navarre attempted to copy Theiryk's exact moves and steps, her mind raced with questions.
"How did you learn to climb trees? Did your master teach you?"
He was sick of the references to his "Master". "NO!' he snapped. "My father taught me. It is in my blood. I am a Wild Elf. My master only taught me that misery loves company."
Navarre gasped, taking several fearful steps backwards and nearly knocking herself off the branch in her haste to get away from him. Krieos had drilled into her mind that her kind was the lowest of the low. The only breed of elf worse than an Avariel was a Wild Elf and he had assured her that none of their kind existed anymore outside of legend.
"You're lying!" she shouted fearfully, her eyes darting to and fro. "You can't be one of them. They're nothing but fairytales and nightmares!"
"Right, I'm just an orc with a rare skin disease that turned me pale instead of black and green," he murmured with a roll of his eyes and made sure she saw the gesture. He laughed and climbed up onto the high branch until he sat at the crest, climbing up into a netting of vines and smaller branches that looked as if they were weaved together.
"Come here!" he barked at her. "We've gotta dress those wounds before they infect."
"No! You'll poison me!" She remained frozen where she stood wishing desperately she knew a way to climb down. Navarre stared hopeless towards the forest floor, feeling dizzy at such a height. "I trust you even less than before! If you are what you say you are then I know what you'll try to do to me! It's why you sent me to those men, isn't it? Have them break my spirit so you wouldn't have to, so I'd be your perfect little pet! I won't let you!
"I have someone I belong to," she spat angrily like a wildcat. "And it's not you!"
"I think I'd prefer to see you turn blue from having my hands around your throat than for me to poison you," Theiryk muttered with a grim smile. But it soon faded and he emerged from the nest of vines to walk down to her. "Come here. Now." He extended a hand to her. "I'm not going to poison you. I promise."
His threat and grin made her even more wary of his presence. As he approached she took equal steps backwards until her back was flush against the trunk of the tree leaving her nowhere else to go. "No! It's a trick. If not poison then you'll do something else. You only promised one thing. Fool you may think me but I know what tricksters your kind were er are."
"I'm not going to hurt you," Theiryk sighed, with no small amount of exasperation. "Give me you're hand. I'm going to help you. That was my offer and it remains still. You'll fall if you don't. There's nowhere else to go."
Very slowly Navarre reached out her hand placing it gently in his. Her eyes looked so conflicted as she looked up at him, waiting for him to suddenly strike her or shove her to her death. 'It was what anyone else would have done,' she reasoned. His interest in her made no sense otherwise. She was sport for him, or so she believed.
"When can I go home?" she asked abruptly, her eyes nearly filling with tears.
Theiryk took her hand in a firm grip, a little stronger than wrap might have been necessary, but he yanked her along with him all the same, pulling her up the branch and into the net of vines. He instructed her to lay across them.
Around him was the semblance of a temprary home, so to speak. There were many items of interest, collected jewels and necklaces and pelts and small articles of clothing, and decanters and bottles off to the side. "Home?" he asked idly, narrowing his eyes at her as he fashioned bandages from strips of cloth.
"Where I belong?" She obediently laid back albeit very nervously, half-expecting the vines to give out and send her to her death. When that did not happen though, Navarre relaxed enough to look around warily, taking interest in the various trinkets around her.
She did not understand what she was seeing and asked him about it. "What is this place?"
Theiryk ignored her question about going home. He didn't have any answer for her and soon he was dabbling a bit of a reddish serum over the cloth of a bandage. "It is a sanctuary of sorts. Tenporary of course. I never stay in one place for long. You should turn around, remove your shirt please."
Navarre pulled her knees up to her chest as she watched him work. "But, then you'd see. No one should see...There is nothing that needs treatment there," she said changing from uncertain to determined in the blink of an eye. "If you're insistent on fixing what you caused then go ahead but I'm not removing my clothes for you."
A hand pressed over her chest, pressing the tattered fabric closer around herself. She feared his reaction to her damaged back. For though he had already seen it, it had been just a glance. Navarre had been told she was a hideous monster and that her deformity should be kept hidden always. She believed that if Theiryk saw it again he would fly into a rage and break his promise to her.
She was testing his patience, she truly was. It was apparent in his face as Theirk sat across from her. "How do you expect me to dress your wounds if you will not strip. Please. I said I would not harm you and I won't. But you're walking on eggshells, Elf Girl. The sooner I clean them the better. You want to look good for your Master don't you?"
She hissed at being called an elf but mention of her master instantly stilled her. Navarre was divided. Either she disobeyed her master and let Theiryk see and help her or she risked infection from improper care. With mention of that one name, he had won though. The Avariel would do anything for her master, including risk punishment in order to not cause him the loss of his property.
Wordlessly, she turned where she sat, letting the garment fall away from her back and shoulders. Her back was a patchwork of overlying cuts and bruises. Crusted blood from the gash he had given her had caught in her long hair, causing some of the blond strands to stick to her back. She left her hair hanging down her back though, unwillingly to reveal her disfigurements which fluttered nervously above the deep, wide, shiny pink furrows that marred her skin from her shoulder blades to her waist.
Theiryk wordlessly took the cloth he had prepared and set it aside. First things first, he took a small sponge, a bowl and filled it from a a waterskin, dabbling her back gently, even parting her hair from her skin. Theiryk observed the longer cuts along her back and he frowned a little. A finger lightly traced along one of pink furrows.
"A gift from your master?" he asked tentatively.
Navarre shivered under shook a gentle touch. Her head cocked to the side slightly as her eyes peeked over her shoulder and through her hair at him. She faced forward once more, fidgeting under his scrutiny, causing more flutterings.
"My second gift," she informed him softly. "The first being taking me away from everything."
"How fitting," Theirk commented idly, wiping the rest of the blood away. "It would make it easier to manipulate you without any outside influence. To make you whatever he wanted you to be." He kept cleaning her back, but he wasn't about to let her move now that he had her right where he needed her to be. He rubbed some salve into her wounds now, the gashes opening a little bit on top.
"Easy now. I've got to look at the ones on you face too."
A sharp inhale was his only response for a while after he began using the salve. But then she started to speak in a voice completely devoid of emotion. "My breeders left me for dead. Master and Little Miss are the only family I've ever known. She's dead too. Killed by the same monsters that abandoned me." She watched him work with dispassionate eyes, feeling only numbness within her.
"You don't like Master," Navarre commented. "Why make me pretty for him again? Or did you mean it when you said you would be my new master? You can try. He won't let you though. He does not let go. Or forget. Or forgive."
"Why would I want to be your master?" he asked dryly. Theiryk's hands worked gently and with expertness as he saw to the gashes on her back and the wounds along her ribs. The scars told a deeper story and his eyes traced them as did his hands.
"I said that because it was the only way to get you in here to let me see to your wounds," he said. "You wouldn't listen to me otherwise."
"You said you would be, before you took me to the men." A hiss escaped her as he brushed across a tender bruise along her ribs, but other than a minor flinch she remained relatively still. Once she had control over herself again, Navarre apologized softly, expecting to be struck for not keeping still.
She could not even bring herself to be angry about his deceiving her though. It was to be expected in her mind. He was only proving himself to be what she had always been taught he was, a liar and a trickster to the core.
"I don't think I'd have any use for a slave. At least not one of the likes of you," he said grimly and gently massaged the skin around her bruise before putting a cooling hand atop it. He held it firmly before patching it with a salve of the same cooling sensation and wrapped it around her ribs. His work had drawn him much closer to her and he nearly wrapped his arms around her at one point. But Theiryk pulled back and patted her shoulder to show her he was done.
"Now your face."
His gentle touches felt good against her abused skin. Against her better judgement, Navarre was finding she felt safe in his care. It was soothing and reminded her of nights spent by a warm fire with her head resting against her master's knee after a good hunt. Her eyes had closed some point as she let him treat her so that when he spoke, she startled.
Obediently, the elf turned to face him, uncaring about her state of dress. Her gaze focused blankly over his shoulder in preparation for the initial stings she expected to feel. Without looking at him she questioned him softly, curiosity bleeding heavily into her voice as she did. "Are you really a Wild Elf?"
Theiryk blinked at her skeptically for a time before setting his mouth in a tight line and a forced smile. Well, it was half forced because really, despite their circumstances, the question was rather harmless. "Yes, I am," he murmured. "Are you still afraid of me?"
"Yes," Navarre stated plainly, her eyes momentarily sliding over to meet his before returning to stare into the distance. "And no. Could all be a trick. Could be genuine. In the end does it matter? You don't seem like one to care if people are afraid of you or not, or about anything really." She shrugged, wincing slightly at how her muscles pulled on her healing back.
"You're right for the most part," he admitted plainly, gently dabbing her face with the clean sponge and fresh bowl of water. "Here, drink this it will relax you." He presented her with a flask of a tea-colored liquid but did not contain the smell of alcohol. "It's not liquor, but it will help you wind down a bit. It is a concoction my father used to make when I had night terrors. It calmed me and I hope it helps you too."
He took some of the salve and gently wiped it across a cut on her cheek.
She took the flask from him slowly, sniffing at it anyway and finding he was correct. Part of her mused how it was a similar ploy she would use if she wanted to drug someone so that they would not give her master trouble. Yet, another part remarked on how Thieryk had proven he had displayed several other ways of subduing her without such underhanded subtlety.
Navarre was about to take a tentative sip of the concoction when she suddenly lowered the flask and looked at the elf before her. "What was he like? Your father? You said he taught you about trees. Did he teach you other things?"
Theiryk gauged her with curious eyes, tilting his head a little. "He taught me many things. Everything I needed to know about how to walk with the trees. He taught me how to shoot an arrow. He taught me how to string a bow, where to step so the leaves cover your footsteps, he taught me how to make that drink. And he taught me the value of loyalty..." He left out the part regarding the cold isolation his father had left him, wishing him to depart from the tribe.
"Besides hating your own kind, what did your master teach you?"
Listening to him talk set a longing in her heart that Navarre had not realized she had been missing. She did not know any of the things he spoke of but they all sounded like things she would love to learn. 'Perhaps he can teach me. Wouldn't Master be pleased to know how I used my knowledge for his benefit?'
"Everything," she said candidly, a smile touching her lips. "I was a babe when he found me, not old enough to walk. Everything I know was taught to me by Master. He taught me to be useful and to be quick." Her fingers played with her pendant as she talked, twisting the chain around her finger over and over before letting it unravel again.
Her face brightening with memory she told him her favorite teaching. "He taught me to use a sword, to move like water and burn like fire. My third gift from Master was my sword." Navarre smiled reaching down to place a hand at her hip where her sword should have been. To find it missing caused her to straighten suddenly, eyes wide. "My sword!"
Fearful eyes flashed to her captor's. "Where is my sword Theiryk? What did you do with it? Is it here? Did you leave it where you ambushed Master? I need my sword, Theiryk," she told him anxiously, voice full of worry and apprehension that was clearly reflected on her face.
Theiryk went through a plethora of emotions at the mention of all her Master had taught her. How he had made her useful and able, but to his own end only. His stomach twisted in a strange sense, disgusted in part by her confidence in such teachings, and even hearing her say his own name made his expression sour further.
"Don't call me Theiryk. You have not earned the right to use my name," he said lowly, furrowing his brows at her. "As for what your master taught you, what good is it if you're stuck over here and he left you to rot? He obviously didn't teach you to keep track of your own belongings." He deliberately avoided the last part of her question, honestly not knowing, and it was certainly the furthest thing from his mind in that moment.
"Besides, I don't even know your name."
"It's hard to keep track of possessions when someone bashes your head in and drags you away from them," she spat, wounded by his cruel jibes. She had been starting to feel comfortable with him and then he had to go and be cruel. Navarre tried to remind herself that it was to be expected yet it did not stop the hurt inside coupled with the fear of having lost her most prized possession.
Silently she moved to hand him back the flask untouched. "You never bothered to ask my name and you have yet to tell me what to address you as. You threaten to become my master then tell me you aren't. The men called you that name so I did the same. Would you rather I hurl insults instead? I'm sure I can muster a few just for your sake!"
"Oh trust me, I'm all ears!" Theiryk growled and moved his grayed ashen hair from the side of his face and revealed his cut ears once more, pulling on it with an irritated hand. "You have not earned the right to address me by my name. You may call me whatever you wish, but you will not call me Theiryk, is that understood? I might tell you if you tell me what you wish to be called yourself, imp."
"Well I would hate to deprive you of your favored nickname for me! Surely imp is a far better than name than many if the others I have suffered. Call me what you will troll, but the name Master has always called me is Navarre not that that means anything to you. Are you done with me now? Or do you have another horror to inflict upon my person?"
"Ah, there now we're getting somewhere," Theiryk murmured with a widened grin. "Well, Navarre, it seems like you're cuts and bruises will heal up nicely. But afraid that will take some time, a few days at most if the salve is to work properly. Which likely means you won't be seeing your master for at least that time. I mean if you want to look real nice for him."
Her eyes narrowed to angry slits. "I'm not falling for that twice. Master would not take kindly to my keeping away from him when I am healthy enough to return. Superficial injuries are not something he will like but are no excuse for failing to obey his orders. Are you finished with me?" she asked, adopting a bored tone as she dropped the flask onto the vine bed she sat in, before trying to move to rise.
Theiryk's arms were quick to stop her however and shoved her back down, snatching the flask from the vine bed. "You will stay there until I otherwise figure out what to do with you. I don't understand what your eagerness to go back to a man that hurts you, who whips you and shoves you into a dark box as punishment for things he perceived as wrong. That's horrible! What is the matter with you!?"
Navarre fought is grip angrily, digging her nails into his skin as she struggled to pry his arms from around her. "I deserve it! Master punishes me to teach me! He does it out of love, how is that horrible? Now let me go!"
Theiryk kneeled beside her, holding her as hard as he could. "How can someone love you and willingly cause you pain?" he growled. "Don't you understand the very stupidity in that statement? You don't deserve it! You deserve better!"
She cried out in frustration at being pinned so perfectly. "An undisciplined child is rude and unruly! How hard is it to understand that he does it to teach me? My Master loves me! He is only trying to protect me! Let me go let me go let me GO!" Navarre screamed again, straining for all she was worth until she tired herself out.
Theiryk loosened his hold on her, but only just so she could wiggle. "He's only trying to protect you from realizing the truth of his actions. To keep you under his control... He doesn't..." Theiryk's lip suddenly curled into his teeth and he chewed on it for a moment and let her go. "What use is it? You're so blind, you'll never see what he's really doing. And I don't think you could ever understand." He pulled the flask back into his grip and tied the clasp back to the tip of it, putting the rest of his things away.
"It is you who does not understand," she panted quietly while resting on her side. "Master has always been there for me. He kept me alive when I should have died. He treated me differently than the others. I am privileged. If that means that when I make mistakes I spend my time in a warm and dry box instead of beaten almost to death before being forced to walk on an empty stomach for hours, then I do not see the problem. He does this because he loves me whether you believe it or not. I won't hear otherwise so you can stop spewing your venomous lies at me. I won't listen to it anymore, no matter what you do to me."
Theiryk shot a wide-eyed gaze at her. His teeth were clenched, his fists shook with his biting rage that threatened to lash out at her at any moment. It was a shame he didn't have that whip with him, or her sword, lest he beat her over the head with it. Instead he took another swig of the flask and gave a shuddering sigh.
"You don't have to believe it, I suppose. You were long ago resigned to your fate. What reason do you have to listen to me? I beat you, I let you be abused by men, and then I rescued you and tended to your wounds, some of them I caused. I don't blame you for your distrust of me. I wouldn't feel any different if our situations were reversed. But you will live out the rest of your existence living on, never knowing what it's like to really be free. Come to think of it...you will outlive your master. What will you do then?"
Navarre nodded her head, glad to hear he finally seemed to be understanding if only a little bit. Though she did correct him on one point. "I am not resigned to this fate as you call it. I find nothing unpleasant with it. As for the rest.."
She fell silent, eyes looking anywhere but at him. "I do not wish to see that day come. It would sadden me to lose my Master for I love him dearly. But, I would follow in his footsteps as he has trained me to do. He has no child of his own to take up his mantle, my pathetic existence will have to do."
"Those are big boots to fill," Theiryk said, gauging her.
"How care you be so sure you're ready for that kind of responsibility? You couldn't even defeat me when your master charged you to do so. Here you stay, in a net of vines in the safety of a tree where your master instructed you to never dare to venture. You flew on the wind when your master told you to fear it," he murmured.
"Then I guess it's a good thing my Master is not about to leave me any time soon," she snapped testily. "He lives another day to correct my wrongs. One day I will be ready though and when that day comes, I will do my Master proud because I will have earned it."
Navarre curled up smaller where she was, letting her hair fall across her face. She pretended his words did not affect her but in truth she felt incredibly vulnerable. He had struck on so many points that she knew Kreios would be furious to find out about. The box was sure to be her longtime companion for several days upon her return. She only hoped he would feel merciful enough to feed her during her punishment.
It was the end of that conversation. Theiryk turned from her for the moment and leaned back against his side of the vine-nest and rummaged through a bag of other supplies before moving over to sit beside her again. "Here," he offered. He reached out and held out a few pieces of dried jerky in addition to round ripe red fruit that looked similar to a nectarine. "Something to eat. And there is water here for you to drink as well."
Her stomach rumbled at the sight of the food and while she sat up to take it, Navarre simply sat it gently in her lap. A deep sigh heaved from her chest as she shook her head sadly. "You confuse me to the point of making my head spin. I don't understand you or your motives. Do you even have any?"
Theiryk glared at her with a greay deal of skepticism, wondering if she was going to eat the food or simply throw it to the bottom. Theiryk shrugged at his spot and played with the fruit in his hands before ripping jerky between his teeth. "I don't know," he answered honestly. "I don't know why I don't simply kill you and be done with it. One thing remains I know if I let you live, the first thinhh you will do will be finding your Master again and likely go about hunting me and that I cannot have. But it's just as easily maybe you're right and I'm wrong and should I kill you, your Master would hunt me all the same for killing his Prized slave.
"It's all the same to me. Like I said before, he'll have to wait in line. But in the meantime, the least I could do after what I did was tend to your wounds and offer you food and drink. I can't have someone bleeding all over the place if I intend to drag them around for a while. It would slow me down. And that I cannot have."
As she listened, the elf nibbled tentatively at the piece of fruit, sucking on the juicy flesh before chewing it slowly. "Master might not kill you, you know," she commented conversationally. "I'm sure there are many other uses for you. You certainly are knowledgeable enough and have been a slave before. Trained slaves are rather hard to come by. Then there are those you say already wish you dead. Bounties bring in quite a bit of coin. For the right price he could easily recover our loses and then some thanks to you. This is all if you keep me alive of course."
Theiryk looked at her with halff-lidded eyes. "Is that so?" His grin turned grim and he actually laughed. "My you are a funny on. Not just funny looking either. Tsttttt, why would I ever want to enter into the service of another Master? I'd welcome your reasoning on this."
Navarre glared slightly at the comment about her appearance before straightening to answer. "You desire order and guidance in your life. You have gone without. Perhaps you even believe you are doing better now than when you had the fatherly hand of your master. But you would come to see it is better this way. It is better to have the love and protection of a master than to go without in a world such as this. It is why I have lived so long. I would not have survived a day without Master. He has taught me many things. But, I have many things yet to learn. That is why I must stay with him. It is unsafe for me otherwise."
"And how does your master express his love for you? Does he bend you over his knee?" Theiryk murmured. "Lay you across his bed and stake his claim on you? Do you enjoy it?"
She ignored him, choosing instead to eat in silence. The questions he asked concerned Kreios' privacy and therefore was none of his business. When the fruit was finished the pit was placed daintily back down on her knee. Navarre worried her lip between her teeth though as she stared down at the jerky, not really knowing how to tackle eating it.
"Such an interest you have in my Master's doings. Are these the things you would want him to do to you?" she asked wickedly. "Or is it perhaps the things your Master did for you, I wonder?"
Theiryk laughed as if their discussion was little more than the weather. But his eyes held a fire in them that bored into her. "Oh that ought to be a treat compared to what entertained my Old Master's favor. In fact I would have jumped at the chance of being locked in a crate compared to being tethered to a post and bit at by his hunting hounds. But we weren't talking about my Old Master, but yours. I'm just curious as to why you speak so highly of him? You really do love him don't you? You couldn't even fathom the thought of ever living without him."
"I would take the hounds to the box any day," she told him with conviction. "Pain is only in the mind but when you're trapped in the box there is no pain. You become the box, trapped within your own mind, cut off from everything with no..." Hope was the word she looked for though it was not one she understood or knew for the feeling she wished to express.
Instead Navarre turned somewhat watery eyes to look at Theiryk sadly. "Of course I love him, he's my Master! He raised me almost as if I were his own. No one else would have done that for me, not with what I am."
"Of course they would have!" Theiryk shot back, the fire in his eyes blazing. "What do you think you are? You're not some wicked hideous creature. You're not something that should be abhorred. You're not ugly. You're not evil. You are cruel...but that is a consequence of your upbringing not because of what you are!"
His face grew hot with rage and he drank heartily from the flask though it seemed to do not good. "Anyone who had enough sense to see the beauty in what you are would have taken care of you as anyone deserves! You are something beautiful, even if you cannot possibly fathom that yourself. Maybe someday you will see it."
Navarre clapped her hands over her ears and shook her head vehemently. She could not drown out his words though despite her quiet moaning. "What am I?" she howled looking at him with eyes of a cornered animal.
"I am an Avariel! I am a slave! Have you not taken enough away from me already? Must you take away my beliefs as well? You have stolen me from my home, lost my sole possession and only gift I've ever been granted, sent me off to be beaten, forced me to break my Master's rules, manipulated me, tricked me, and now this? Is there no end to your cruelty? Just kill me! Take my life and be done with it already!"
She screamed shrilly, shaking with her fury. Everything he had said contradicted Kreios' teachings. Avariels were monsters, she was a monster. She was hideous. The remnants of her wings served as a constant reminder as to how ugly she was to behold. She would never be free of her cursed existence. She was her master's dog and the way Theiryk talked made her wish he would just put her down like one so that she would not have to suffer the poison he seemed so intent on spouting.
But Theiryk would have none of it and he lunged forward suddenly, grabbing her wrists and shaking her, keeping her from covering her ears. "You're not a monster. You're not. You're beautiful and something to be cherished. Say you are beautiful! Say it!"
She did not even have the time to recoil as he was suddenly there and screaming in her face. His words made her cry and continue to shake her head in defiance. Feeling utterly defeated and hopeless, Navarre fell forward against Theiryk, sobbing out her pain.
"What's beautiful about being deformed?" she cried out brokenly. "I am nothing without my Master. Admit it, you wouldn't have taken me if you had found me then. You would have left me like all the rest."
"I cannot say what I would have done," he said steadily, feeling his skin crawl at her sudden fall against him. But he remained like a wall, stony and let her cry her tears of shame and self-hatred. "But you are wrong. You're not ugly, you're not horrid to behold. You're not something to be ashamed of. And you should never be ashamed of yourself."
"How can I not be?" she wailed, struggling to release her wrists from his grasp. Anger coursed through her just as strongly as the pain and confusion. Both Theiryk and Kreios could not be right with their contradicting opinions and yet Navarre wondered which of them truly was. She could not lie to herself and say that the elf had not been good to her. Kreios had certainly never touched her with as gentle and as caring a hand no matter how well she had pleased him.
"If I am so beautiful why did they leave me for dead? Why was I left with such scars in the name of beauty? I am nothing but a creature caught between. I will never be what I was and I can never be free of it. You're the only one that believes there is beauty in..."
Theiryk's grip considerably lessened his grip on her wrists and let her go at last. "Because it is likely your master made it so that it was easier to manipulate you, to trick you into the believe the lie he has fed you for the entire length of your enslavement. He knows that if you ever realized the truth, he would lose you. He's a coward and you know it, deep down you know he is which is why he sends you to fight for him instead of him fighting for himself. And when you're caught, he runs and leaves you behind, and if he's even considered looking for you, he's going to take his time about it."
Navarre scowled before swinging a fist that resulted in a weak punch to Theiryk's shoulder. "He didn't leave me behind! You stole me from him! You can't blame him for your part in this! Why must you say all these horrible things all the time? Have you no other way to release your anger than to spew such poison into my ears? To think I almost believed you! He's coming now I assure you! Don't doubt my Master's love for me for a second. Wait and see, you'll be wishing you'd listened sooner, mark my words."
The punch only made him jerk and his jaw muscles clenched in anger of his own. But his eyes held the evidence of his rage, but it was rage not directed at her. "I only speak of what I know... From what I've learned in my own lifetime." He swallowed hard on a dry throat and released his clenched fists. "Perhaps I am wrong. Maybe your master is different and he actually cares about you..." Though he didn't believe it for a second. "And he'll come rescue soon enough. I'm sure you won't both your head about anything I've said. Your mind is your Master's, and it seems to be made up."
His admission allowed to relax enough to pull away from him and still her crying. "Thank you. It is as it should be." She nodded her head as if to confirm her statement yet, Navarre could not say if the gesture was meant more for him or herself not that it mattered to her. Her thoughts were solely focused on Kreios and how angry he would be with her for everything that had led up to this point in time.
"I still wish you had not been so careless as to lose my sword though," she sighed sadly. "Figures the only thing I've ever been able to call my own, a troll loses not long after."
"You're swords means quite a lot to you doesn't it? I'm afraid it's a tragedy you will likely mourn for, for the rest of your days," Theiryk commented dryly and sat back in the netting. He brushed back his wintry hair, the stringiness of gray coming into his eyes. "But there will be other swords that I'm sure you'll come to know. If you're in your master's favor as you claim to be."
"That sword belonged to my father." Navarre looked at him over her shoulder before moving to pull the tattered remains of her top once more over her heavily bandaged frame. "It is not something that can be easily replaced, though I don't expect you to understand that. You seem hellbent on your way of thinking."
"And that's the pot calling the kettle black," Theiryk forced a laugh, barking like a hound and snickering at her. But then he quickly sobered. "A gift from your father, you say? Then perhaps it would be wise to climb out of this tree and go and retrieve it yourself. I mean unless you're scared..."
Navarre snorted and shook her head in disgust. "How can I when both times I have tried to leave you've forced me back down. What game are you playing at? Do you like pushing women around? Does it make you feel strong? Because I would like nothing more than to reclaim what's mine. If you're so intent on keeping me here you could just as easily get it yourself. Probably would be no hassle for you either with your wind-walking."
"Yeah it wouldn't," he muttered, eating her discarded jerky and ignoring her comment about women. "I think really, I'd just like to see how you fare climbing down the tree all you yourself. In fact...maybe keeping you here really isn't as good an option as I imagined it was. In fact...you can leave now if you like. Go on then. It was a pleasure talking to you."
"Fine then! I will!" she shouted, jumping to her feet. For a brief moment her eyes widened in shock as she wobbled on the springy vinebed before she was able to catch herself and storm back the way they had come.
Navarre quickly found that walking along branches was easy enough once you knew what you were doing. Climbing down from them proved to be much more difficult than climbing up though. She would get to the place where she would need to switch and be forced to sit down on the branch, which was already an extremely difficult task given the need to balance on something that bent and swayed beneath her, and then scoot herself off it until she was hanging from it so that she could drop to a hopefully accessible lower branch. In no time at all she found herself curled up against the trunk of the tree only a few branches down from where she had started. Navarre had all but given up.
Oh he simply had to see this. Even if it was only a short laugh, it was still better than sitting around and moping, so Theiryk watched her leave and he smiled, shooting out from the netting of vine and moved like a cat-like grace as he leapt from branch to branch above her head, smiling as she wandered down toward the lower levels of the great tree he danced upon.
Soon he fell just above her head, perched against the trunk with a sly look to him. "Need any help?" he murmured, pointing to the ground. "It's a long way down."
She huffed, glaringly angrily up at him. "Why," she snapped, her voice dripping with attitude. "Planning on giving me a bit of a shove? Rather not break all my bones in one go if you don't mind."
Theiryk snarled at her. "You are insufferable!" he growled. "No wonder your master left you to rot!" Theiryk shot down to her branch and it wobbled mercilessly underneath his added weight. "Give me your hand. You're not going to get down easily by making yourself stiffer than the tree. Come, I will show you how to move with it. Then we will get your sword, so you can go away and leave me the hell alone!"
"Oh I'm the insufferable one because it's all my fault I'm in a damn tree to begin with! You have absolutely no blame in this at all!" came her sarcastic growl. Begrudgingly she was on her feet again though and placing her hand in his, the scowl never leaving her face.
There was no end to the amusement in Theiryk's expression, especially when she rested her hand in his at last. He gripped it tight and yanked her from the branch, dancing backwards and suddenly pulling her with him in another direction, leaping six feet across toward another branch on the side. "You've got to learn to move with the tree if you hope to get down. Don't balance as if you're on the ground, dance with it, listen to the music in the wind. OH, and it helps to watch your footing." Theiryk laughed, his voice seemingly lighter now, almost boyish as he pulled her along running along one branch before leaping to another and letting his feet step lightly on the bark, moving one with the wind.
"C'mon, you can smile. I know you want to."
She bit back the scream she wanted to let loose as they raced through the treetops. Once she got over her fright though she found it really was exhilarating. It was like finding a part of her she had been missing all her life without realizing it. Yet as she examined that feeling, Navarre noted that missing part was not complete. It was close to what some unconscious part of her desired but it was not right. She could not say what was though and she dared not try and find out.
Letting herself relax, Navarre quickly joined him. At first she cringed to be staring at the ground and realize how easy it would be for her to get hurt. It all faded though as her natural grace and Theiryk's exuberance kept her steady. Slowly she gained confidence and was squeezing his hand less and less as she nimbly navigated in his footsteps.
His statement though had the opposite of the intended affect. The slave had forgotten herself and at the realization of what Kreios would think, Navarre faltered, her foot missing the intended target and stepping out onto empty air instead. She was horrified at finding true, unadulterated enjoyment in something she had been blatantly taught to keep away from. She softly apologized to Theiryk for her mistake, now much more subdued in her formerly bouncing steps.
"Don't apologize," Theiryk said with a surprising softness as he reached for her other hand, switching grips and jumping up higher into the taller branches. They were considerably thinner than the boughs at the center and Theiryk stood precariously at the edge. "You have to relax," he muttered. "Or else your balance will falter. Take a breath."
The Avariel closed her eyes and took several deep calming breaths, trying to be obedient. The scare had left her more shaken than she was willing to admit. Yet as she relaxed, Navarre was able to take note of the sound of the wind in the trees.
Unbeknownst to her a faint smile began to appear, growing larger as she tilted her head this way and that to listen. She could hear the direction it came from and something within her begged to leap off the bough not to her death but to her delight. Navarre who had never known what it was to fly wanted to soar.
"It's beautiful," she whispered reverently.
"We have to ride the wind to that tree over there," Theiryk said, gesturing to the larger oak across the branches. "Ready? One, two..." Before three he yanked her along and summoned the wind to carry them and they almost flew much like a bird.
"Cheat!" she cried out as they were suddenly airborne. This time though there was no fear and any screams that escaped her were crows of joy. She longed to do this forever but knew as the next tree approached it had to end.
Forgetting her fear and her anger she turned to Theiryk with childlike wonder dancing in her eyes. "How do you do that? Was it something else your father taught you? Could you teach me?" Navarre was practically begging, her mouth split in a grin that lit up her entire face with hope and anticipation.
Theiryk was taken aback at the request. He never anticipated such a thing before, despite himself and he only frowned. "My father taught me yes, as all Wild Elf children are taught by their elders. He taught me to listen to the trees, for theirs were words of wisdom... But I don't know if I could teach you. You are a not a Wild Elf. And you abhor my kind." His tone surprisingly was not malicious, but he did not let go of her hand. He looked at her and his eyes were filled with a solemn pity, one that conveyed a sorrow at the thought that she would never know the teachings of her race, the beauty that lay in it, trapped as she was inside the prison of her mind.
That reminder was a door slamming in her face. Yet, hope remained. For despite her sorrowful expression and heavy sigh, Navarre did not retreat to her arsenal of poisonous vitriol. Her head lowered in regret and shame as she shook her head at having to be reminded.
"Right." Gone was her short-lived joy in the face of the truth. She was a slave and she had a master to return to. "I believe I know enough to get down now. Perhaps we should be on our way so that I can cause you no more trouble. I will not ask anything more of you."
He could not teach her even if he wanted to. She was not born of the wind like all Wild Elves. He did not know what she was, save she was an elf, and her markings were strange and foreign even to him. His frown remained inset and at last he let go of her hand before moving toward the base of the tree and dropping down to the ground below.
"Fall, I will catch you. We'll get your sword back," he said simply, knowing parting was for the best.
Eager to be on her way, she obeyed without question. Her eyes squeezed shut as Navarre allowed herself to fall backwards off the branch, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. She only prayed it was not another trick and she was about to at best suffer a very bruised behind and at worst, her own death.
Theiryk was tempted true, to step back and simply let the woman fall to her death. She could have broken her neck, been another body buried beneath the underbrush on the forest floor and within a few months, would have been nothing more than detritus. But she had fallen too fast and heavily for him to withdraw now as he caught her just before impact and settled her onto her feet. He felt heavy in that moment, unlike the wind that so easily carried him, as he turned his back and began to walk back in the direction of Banridge Hollow, where no doubt battalions of bloodthirsty rogues awaited them.
"Thank you," she murmured to his back. Navarre fell easily into step behind him, practically becoming one with his shadow as they moved. She observed his gait and attempted her best to try and copy it. The Avariel had been greatly impressed by his speed and stealth when they had fought against each other and she hoped to glean something from him by mimicking his actions. Navarre was so focused on the ground that she did not even see her surroundings or notice a pair of eyes that watched the pair from the shadows.
Theiryk was deep in thought, somber. His feet pressed likely on the leaves and soil and grass and left no sign of his passing. It was the way all Wild Elves moved, even in the trees - especially in the trees - to become nothing more than a blur to the eye. Theiryk remembered the days when his father scolded him for wandering on the ground, where no Wild Elf belonged, and he almost smirked at the memory. Well, life certainly went about ingraining that lesson into him didn't it? Not like he would ever make that mistake again.
But life moved on, and left Theiryk behind as it always did, and he went where he pleased, whether it his higher in the treetops or down onto the sunken soil, the movement easier now than it had been in boyhood. And all the same, he too was unaware of the eyes that lingered on them. The hackles on his neck were raised, but he blamed that for Navarre's unwanted presence.
The soft coo of a mourning dove gave her pause though for while it was a native bird of the area it struck a chord deep inside her. Navarre knew it to be her master's call and while a perfect imitation she had always out of all the others been able to recognize it as something more. Had she grown up among her own people she would have learned it was due to her ability to speak the languages of the birds but her slavery and collar had ensured otherwise.
She stopped paying attention to Theiryk's steps and instead tripped over a tree root, falling into him. An angry cry of frustration sounded from her lips as she attempted to straighten herself and shove him away all in the same moment. If her Master was close by then that meant he could see her and she still had a duty to fulfill. Kreios did not need to know the pair had been getting along relatively well over the past few hours.
"Filth!" she hissed.
The soft sound of a bird struck his ears. it sounded peculiar then most of the sounds of birds and other raptors he was accustomed to hearing. Theiryk thought nothing more of it until Navarre suddenly fell onto him. And she struggled, wildly, for no reason he could have foreseen and suddenly he rose up on a knees and grabbed her by the shoulders.
"Calm down!" he said. "What's the matter with you!?"
The Avariel fought against him with flailing limbs as she tried to flee. She even went so far as to try and take a swing at him when he refused to let go of her. "Don't touch me!" Navarre screeched.
Desperate to get away from him and to her Master's side, she did the only thing she thought would gain her her complete freedom. Navarre lunged for his weapon, intent on using it to defend herself against any possible advances.
Something snapped within her and Theiryk realized now she was more than mad. She was positively noodles! And when she reached for his weapon, a sudden wave of panic swept through him like a gale force wind. His eyes flashed wide and a soft gasping breath escaped him; his hands grabbed at hers and tried to push her down restrain her.
"We were getting along fine!" he protested, turning his body away from her grasp to keep her hands off his staff.
She thumped her small fists against his sides and back as she continued to scramble for the double-headed staff. "You call throwing me to wolves to be beaten almost to death getting along?! You call stealing me away from my home, getting along? Or what about losing the only possession I've ever called my own? Sure! We're getting along great," Navarre hissed.
"I'm not going to let you leave me with them again to be killed for good this time!"
"What the hell are you talking about!?" Theiryk growled. If he intended to do any of those things surely he wouldn't have told her about it, nor would he have rescued her from the clutches of those brigands and rogues. Theiryk's grip turned iron as he tried to force her down. "If you don't settle down I'll be forced to thrash you!"
"Oh yes because that's going to make me settle," she spat, struggling harder against him. "Go ahead and beat me," Navarre continued to taunt, "not much more you can do to me after letting them break me in for you."
He soon overpowered her though, forcing her to still under his bruising grip. Navarre continued to glare angrily up at him as she shouted and called him names, cursing him for thinking he could try and betray her or lead her astray from her Master.
Theiryk growled down at her, ignoring her spits her curses until he took the dagger from the sheathe on his shoulder and smacked the butt of it against her temple, as hard as he could without - hopefully - effectively killing her.
The blow to the head did not knock her out this time but it did severely stun her. Navarre grunted at the impact as her vision blurred and she went limp in Theiryk's arms. She saw stars and her head swayed as she tried to blink away both the pain and her clouded sight.
"Bastard," she slurred over her bitten tongue, suffered during the surprise of the hit.
"It's for your own good, trust me," Theiryk grumbled as he got off her and used her momentary stun to summon vines from the trees. They lent themselves to him and he trained them in his hands , pulling them taut before cutting strips loose. He turned Navarre over on her belly and tied her hands behind her back, the vines hardened around her wrists, flexing to the commands Theiryk murmured, and soon he tied another set around her ankles. "You wait here," he murmured. "I'll get your sword back. I promise. Don't go anywhere."
"No!" Navarre futilely struggled as he trussed her up like a prized pig for the slaughter. She was even able muster up a few tears as she alternated between curing him and begging him to set her free. "You'll damage it it sell it! I can't trust you and where the hell do you think I'm going like this you vile serpent?!"
She let out an aggravated howl from her place on her stomach. There she sobbed and cursed regardless if he stayed or left, determined to do so until he was far past her own range of hearing. Kreios would not wait forever and she could only imagine how furious he was already with her failing to kill Theiryk in the first place.
Whatever fury Theiryk had, he released it with a sigh and shook his head at Navarre. She was pathetic. Not that he would make any better claim for himself, but he aad no idea how to help her. He knew not even if he really wanted to. Yes, it was best for them to part ways and be done with it. The sooner she had her sword, and was long gone from him, the better. One could help others who did not want to be helped. She was content with her lie, and in some small part of him, so was he.
Theiryk simply shook his head at her, looking grave before he turned around and proceeded down the path toward Banridge hollow. He knew the risk he was taking after coming here and letting them chase him away. But he was an elf of his word and would get her blade back if it was the last thing he did.
And it just might be.
Navarre at last fell silent as footsteps approached her. Suddenly she was yanked to a kneeling position, her head thrust back at an awkward angle so that she was staring up into the eyes of her beloved Master.
"Well, well, well if it isn't my wayward little bird caught at last. Find yourself in a spot of trouble did we pet?" Kreios cooed and smiled softly before cruelly yanking her head some more and pulling on her hair, making the elf whimper.
"I left you to kill him and this is how you repay me? Frolicking with him and becoming his friend? Do you think I did not see you before your little mock fight, witch? How foolish do you find me filth?"
She shook her head as best as she could against his hand violently protesting in stuttered words that he had it all wrong that she had not been doing such things but that only served to enrage the slaver further. He threw her body down in disgust as he roared. "You dare insinuate that I am wrong, slave? You disgust me! You're lucky you still have use to me yet or I would cast you in the bottom of the river and be done with you! You deserve far worse and are quite fortunate to have such a benevolent master, aren't you pet?"
"Yes Master!" she readily replied, looking up at him with extreme gratitude.
The sight made the man smile darkly as he crouched down beside his little Avariel. "My boys and I are going to set up a little trap for your new friend Navarre. You will once more act as my little lure dear and when the moment comes you better do your job or it will be the last thing you ever do! Am I understood?" He did not wait for an answer as he beckoned other men to join him. From around them five or six males approached the pair with lecherous smiles on their faces.
"Remember to scream pretty for me dear," Kreios called giddily as he walked away from the men closing in around Navarre. He hurried to begin work on setting up a trap for Theiryk, leaving the Avariel to be kicked and beaten by the men who took full advantage of the restrained elf to have all the fun they desired with her. True to her orders and without much effort, Navarre let her pain be known as she screamed in true pain and grief, sobbing and begging for them to stop and someone to help her.
Getting the sword back had been easier than Theiryk had actually expected. Granted the rogues of Banridge Hollow were on special high alert after Theiryk had taken Navarre here. He honestly had expected a different reaction out of them, but they had quickly sided with her and he grit his teeth at the wagon of good he had left at the center of the town square where men sat around a fire, drinking, patrolling, and throwing bottles and even sampling what goods were in that cart.
He had crept around them and when there was a sufficient space, he used the wind to carry him to the nearest roof, and a few men looked up at the trees at the rustling. Theiryk had managed to distract them long enough with a few poorly done bird calls that projected out in another direction before he was able to snatch up the blade and a few sacks of coin for good measure, and even a bottle of mead as a parting gift for the foolish elf he'd left tied along the woodland path.
All right, so it was a bad place to leave her, and there was always the chance someone could have stumbled upon her. Theiryk had weighed the possible outcomes, but there was little choice in the matter and letting her go definitely was not an option. Granted, should someone find her, they could just as easily let her go, and she'd run away or whatever, and he'd find himself with a fancy new blade.
Theiryk froze suddenly and he felt a chill go down his back. "Damn..." he breathed when he heard the streams and like the wind he ran in Navarre's direction. His bow sprung from his back and with it flew arrows that came as fast as lightning strikes, two easily flying into the necks of two of the men that were immediately assaulting her on the ground.
"Get him! Get that son of a bitch!" one of the men cried out as the other three charged after him.
The men attacked Theiryk warily. That is not to say they did not put forth a grand effort to ensure they themselves would not be lost in the process but they in turn had been given strict orders not to damage the merchandise severely as it was acquired.
One of the men that the elf had shot down had dropped his dagger beside her and she quickly used it to free herself of her bonds both hand and foot. This precious weapon was scooped up awkwardly in her left hand as her right was clutched closely to her breast as her body seemed to slack on the right, too pained to keep straight.
She was about to join the fray when she let loose a shrill scream. "Behind you!" Navarre tried to warn Theiryk as three more men tried to rush him from behind. All around them men came from the trees to form a loose circle about them. Only a small fraction of them interfered though as others simply stood watch.
How predictable! It was a shame they all didn't just attack him at once instead of giving Theiryk the opportunity to pick them off one by one. He had pulled his double-balded staff from his back with savage dexterity after putting his bow away. A man came at him from the left and with a swift swipe, he howled in pain as his hand came off. Blood fountained from the end of that appendage and the other two beside him came at him at once. Theiryk swung the staff low, slipping below his calf, severing the tendon to the ankle, the honed edge easily shredding the leather of his boot. The move knocked him to the ground and the other man had his head moved from his shoulders.
Two came at him from behind, knocking Theiryk to the ground with a dizzying blow to the head. The Wild Elf was momentarily stunned and the men saw their opportunity to subdue him. But the wind around him suddenly spun up and around him in a torrent and picked up the swarm from their feet, allowing him to get to his feet. "Get that sonuvabitch!" he heard someone yell as the men suddenly rushed him all at once. Somewhere in the tumult, he'd lost his staff and his fists collided with jaws and skulls. Theiryk's own face was bruised and his lip was cut when the pommel of a sword connected to his face. But his body moved faster, stronger with savagery hard won by his will to survive. And when it was over, the last man fell when Theiryk's hands wrapped around his neck and crushed his throat, leaving the Wilf Elf to roll off to the side in an exhasuted heap.
Navarre crawled over to Theiryk, her hand still cradled close to her body as she finally came to a stop beside him. "Are you alright?" the woman queried worriedly, the fingers of her uninjured hand moving to trace his jawline. "They could have killed you. They could have killed me! And you left me to them!"
Just as quickly as she got angry, the Avariel looked repentant and on the verge of tears. "I was so worried about you. They were after you. They wanted to use me to get to you," she cried. "They hurt me for you and I didn't tell them anything, I swear! Not a word, not a word," she breathed.
She was mad. She was absolutely, peeled-banana, nutcracker mad! Theiryk didn't know what more to think of it other than that one solid conclusion. But even so, she still seemed quite distressed and that much, he knew was real. Or as real as it could be. He reached up for her hand and clasped it in his own. "It's all right. I'm sorry for...tying you up," he panted lightly, regaining some of his energy. "You did good. You're safe now. It's all right. Now let's get going before they come back." He grunted with some effort to come to his feet, soon staggering into her, clinging to her shoulder.
She nodded her head quickly before moving to her feet in time wrap an arm about his shoulder's as he leaned into her. A flick of her wrist and the dagger that had been it nicked the back of his neck and shoulder as she wobbled seemingly under his sudden attachment to her. In truth though it was a very precise maneuver as upon her confiscated dagger was a quick-acting paralytic meant to incapacitate Theiryk for her master's perusal.
'Here's hoping Wild Elves aren't immune to this. It's never failed Master before though.'
"Are you sure you're alright? You can rest a bit."
He felt it, for his skin was particularly sensitive, like most elves and some humans that trained themselves as such. It felt no more than a prick, a light sting that made him quiver as a hand came up to cling to the back of his neck, a sharp sting and nothing more. He felt blood though and his eyes looked at her widely, haggardly as he fell to one knee.
"What did you -?" he coughed and tried to fight the sudden tightening of his muscles. But it seemed the more he fought the tighter they became and soon he fell to his side. "What...What have you done!?" he managed to spit out. "I was...only trying to....protect you." And all went black.
As he collapsed before her all concern was wiped from her features. Navarre stared down at the Wild Elf apathetically, the poisoned dagger held loosely in one hand and her posture no longer slumped to one side as if in pain.
A heavy hand clapped around the back of her neck giving it a warning squeeze before her Master's voice flooded her ears. "Well done my pet, well done indeed. I trust you have not fallen prey to his lies? After all, what man that claims to protect would leave a pretty little thing like you all tied up for any man to partake of? Certainly not one that cares." Kreios punctuated his point by kicking the elf in the ribs while he was unconscious.
"Bind him up boys and let's get back to camp before he wakes. He's caused enough trouble that I want to make sure he's firmly secured lest he wake. Now move it!" Upon his order, the men raced forward being none too gentle as they heavily bond Theiryk in manacles and chains from neck to ankle for the journey back to their camp where they would at last dump in still bound in a tiny cage too small to even sit up in or straighten.
The blackness parted like a windswept veil. Theiryk was lost in an ether dream, that shaded, faded place halfway between darkness and light, between day and night. His ribs hurt, that much he could tell immediately, but everything else just felt ethereal and he was weightless, as if carried on the wind. The Wild Elf knew this could not be so, through. His body felt hot, his head started to throb and he could see people around him...well, not see, so much as hear anyway. His wrists began to sting as if something hard rubbed against them.
He could not speak, couldn't scream even if he wanted to. He only could listen to the men as they laughed and jibed at the elf in shackles. "What does the boss intend to do with him?" one of them asked and Theiryk heard only laughter in response. With him? With HIM! He was the elf in shackles. And the pain of being pretzeled for so long was starting to get to him. But still he could not cry out.
At the back of the cage, out of Theiryk's sight, Kreios walked slowly, surveying his recent prize. In one hand he held a riding crop which he ran along the bars of the cage to hear them sing while the other loosely clutched a thick chain connected to a leather collar about Navarre's throat.
"Quite the catch you managed to ensnare for me pet. I might even be persuaded to forget all your discretions since last I saw you. But only if you're a good little slave," he continued as he finally came to stand in front of the Wild Elf.
"Comfy? I hope it's not too spacious for you in there. We had hoped to find you a smaller cage but I couldn't be giving up my sweet's private box. She would be quite cross with me, now wouldn't you be my dear?" Kreios stroked Navarre's cheek and like a cat she leaned into his touch as her eyes fluttered closed.
Theiryk's feeling swarmed in like buzzing bees and so did the pain that inevitably came with it. His legs were bound, as well as his arms, behind his back and both tied together so as to make any kind of comfortable positioning practically impossible. And when at last he saw Kreios in the front of his cage, his eyes instantly recognized him.
"Oh yes, thank you kind master," Theiryk replied, like a good dutiful slave, his tone ripe with sarcasm. "I am terribly grateful for your generosity thus far. Except that your good bitch has mentioned how she misses her box so. She mentioned being more than willing eager to prove her love for you by being placed within it once again."
And a large wad of saliva found it's target against Kreios' cheek.
Kreios sneered even as Navarre wiped away the spittle upon his face. "She would. I trained herself after all. Avariel are such a malleable race. Destroy their will early and take away their greatest joy before they've experienced it and they're your loyal bootlicker until the end of time. Look how she preens under any sort if attention. She's just a stupid animal, not unlike you actually. But I'll have you heeling in no time. I guarantee it," he affirmed with a tight toothy grin.
"You'll break. They all do if given enough time. But what to do with you first? Leave you in the cage? Run you? What do you think pet? What is most fitting for our prized scum?"
Eyes opened slowly as the Avariel tilted her head in a rather avian fashion as she passively observed the caged Wild Elf. "Whatever Master thinks best of course," came her soft reply, believing it was what the human wanted to hear. She was wrong.
In the blink of an eye the slave trader was slamming her face into the bars of Theiryk's cage before letting her sink boneless let to the muddy ground. Blood spilled from her re-split lip as she whimpered and covered her equally bleeding nose.
"Worthless tramp," Kreios yelled, spit flying at both elves in his fury. "If I wanted my thoughts parroted back at me I wouldn't need you!"
Theiryk bit his tongue. It wasn't easy of course, and it was the last thing he wanted to do. But what good would it do when he was the one in the cage and the man clearly had the upper hand. He was cramped and strained and everything hurt all over, especially his back and neck, holding up like he was. Still, he would not show a sign of weakness. Not to this pig.
Then there was blood. Theiryk jumped, he blinked, and his eyes widened when one moment Kreios was calm and the next, blood was seeping from Navarre's face. He stared at her, holding his breath, and feeling his gut burn with disgust and anger and pity all at the same time. How could she let him do that to her, to just spill her blood when he pleased? How could she not see the horror she lived in?
Theiryk would have reached forward if he could. Instead he peered at her and softened his expression, saying nothing. "You're a coward," he growled, his voice clearly addressing Kreios, then his gaze turned to him. "You bark and bite the one that will do nothing against you, and cackle at me, who you've bound in chains, thinking yourself big and powerful, huh? Take my chains off, and put it to the test. Ha! I bet you don't even have the balls for that. Sun-dried raisins more like." And Theiryk barked a laugh.
From her place on the ground, Navarre listened with bowed head, her hair a curtain about her bleeding face as she attempted to staunch the blood. Her ears were pricked though for the listening. The things Theiryk had said when it had been just the two of them still rang within her mind, not quite buried deep under her Master's heavy hand and it made her wonder just ever so slightly which of the men was right.
Kreios on the other hand was livid. He bared his crooked teeth nastily even as he reached in to grab the Wild Elf's collar and give it a mighty pull. "Better raisins then nothing at all pretty-boy. But you'll know that soon enough. You're not going to be sold as a breeding slave after all. Far too much spirit in you for that. We'd lose a whole crop if I let you. But then again perhaps if you're good I might let you play with Navarre. Not like she would bring anything useful into this world anyway. But you'd have to behave mutt. Don't see that happening anytime soon."
That being said, the large man opened Theiryk's cage quickly, keeping a firm hand on collar and chain so as to prevent the elf from breaking free even as he dragged the male's body free, uncaring if he was banged about as his muscles most likely protested their movement from being cramped so long.
Theiryk gave an unceremonious yelp when he was dragged out of the cage, his body protesting as he felt the tensions in his body come apart in a great deal of insurtmountable soreness and he growled in anger and anguish. But he made no more of a protest and instead glared up at Kreios with burning hate.
Shortly before he mustered a smile and laughed. "Is that all you got?"
Navarre peaked up through her long locks of golden hair to watch the battle of wills between master and slave though she found it far easier to watch Theiryk than Kreios as the first was nearly eye-level with her and the other would surely beat her if he knew she was watching either. Her bleeding lip had slowed though a swipe of her tongue made it sting enough to wince blessedly out of sight of the one who had caused it. She dared not moved from her abandoned place much like a ragdoll she awaited attention that would drag her from her spot to be played with once more before she was unceremoniously tossed elsewhere to wait on her Master's whims.
"Oh pet, that's not even the beginning," Kreios crowed cheerfully, prior to yanking the elf along while refusing to make him stand or get his bearings. The man was intent on ensuring the elf knew his place as a dog and treated him as such. "You see," he commented conversationally, giving one of the many chains a firm yank, "some of my boys here are a bit cross with you for harming their brothers and I thinks it only fair they repays you the favor. I know you won't mind. Do enjoy, I know they will," he leered as others came forward to kick the beast while he was down without fear of retribution.
Theiryk was greeted by kicks and blows to the head as he was tossed to the wolves. He was beaten savagely and it was hardly over even after he passed out on the ground. Blood seeped from his lips and nose when he was bruising and lacerated. Even so his will was not dominated, it would not be broken. Not when he was first enslaved, not now not ever! He would even the score. He would kill them all.
The rabble continued for so many hours that Navarre was not completely sure that the Wild Elf was still alive by the time her presence was remembered and she was sentenced to tend to the worst "and only the worst off the mutt's wounds." Her own body ached from kneeling in the sludge and her nose felt stuffy as she dragged a heavy bucket of brown water and a dirty cloth over to his tightly bound form. She ignored the taunts as a handful of men left to watch the male shoved her around and taunted her for her bloodied and bruised face. She had far more important things to be doing than paying them mind.
Navarre knelt beside Theiryk, afraid to find out whether he was awake or not and therefore kept her gaze lowered to his battered flesh. Her hands moved quickly but as gently as she could, her own bottom lip worried between her teeth as she winced on his behalf. She had seen many beatings though none as fierce as this elf's and part of her wondered if it would be better that he just die so as to not endure the many more she was sure were to come. There was no ounce of guilt that she felt though the first shards of doubt still swirled within the murky depths of her mind reminding her of the few blades of grass that danced within her bloodying bucket. She mused it was this reason that she lingered longer than she normally would have, even cleaning out wounds that would have done him no harm so as to stay near him longer.
He'd been through worse, he was sure of it. This kind of beating, he received on a daily basis from his former master, sometimes twice a day just for 'good measure' as the old fuck would put it. Usually in the morning to get the blood flowing, to see if he was willing to bend in the slightest...but he wasn't. There were times, of course, when he felt himself slipping, like it would be far easier to just give in. The beatings would stop, for just a moment, his head would stop spinning, that he might be able to come up for some air. There was a small part of his mind, however, that simply couldn't, wouldn't, never give in. The voice of the wind called to him, saying his name, echoing in the night.
The touch of something cold on his skin made him wince and he jerked his eyes open, one not quite opening all the way for the black bruise forming around it. He gasped and groaned, his body throbbing and peered up at Navarre with his right eye, blinking gently. "What are...what are you doing?" he murmured, voice barely above a whisper. "Why are you helping me?"
Hurriedly she pressed a long finger upon his lips, careful to avoid the deeply swollen areas as she shook her head the slightest bit. Then, in a voice soft as the wind that only Theiryk would have been able to hear she whispered to him, her lips parted yet unmoving as she worked.
"If they know you have the strength to speak they will beat you more. You mustn't let them or they'll kill you. They always do," she told him without remorse as it was just a fact of life for her. Her rag was once more dunked in her pail then wrung out before being reapplied to the tender and bruising skin of his face.
She sighed softly, shaking her head a bit so that her hair brushed back off her shoulders so she could see better, not even thinking about how awful her face probably looked to match his own. "Master told me to do this so hold still," Navarre said sternly as one of his guards stomped by before she lowered her voice once more for only his ears. "And you helped me when no one else ever did."
Navarre could not look at him after admitting aloud to such a statement as it created a hollowness within her gut that she had always buried away. It was not something she wished to explore further in fact feared as much as her Master abandoning her forever. It was just not meant for her to consider. Yet, a niggling worm of thought ate away at her whispering darkly that perhaps it was.
Theiryk's eyes moved tothe watching shadows in his peripherals when she warned him and he breathed gently though it hurt to do so. What the hell was wrong with this girl? First she betrayed him and now she tended his wounds. Couldn't she just set her mind on one kind of crazy, so he could at least keep track of it and be better prepared. He was still staring at her as she spoke, pressing the cloth to his body and he tensed despite his wounds.
"Why?" he asked again, sharply but quietly. "You betrayed me. You sold me out. What's your game?"
"No game," she said with a shrug. "Master said to tend to you." It was answer enough for her so she assumed it was answer enough for him. "Could have been worse for you. You should thank me for that. Master taught me worse ways to acquire his trade for him."
A shadow fell over Navarre's face for a moment before she let her hair fall forwards again. "Or not. The rest all hated me too." She did not know why but that thought made her incredibly sad. In the past she had been able to brush it away with the knowledge that her Master cared and that was all that mattered. Now though with his simple act of tending to her own wounds, Navarre began to doubt more and more, scaring herself with the thought that she was not cared for by anyone after all.
Theiryk's eye was speculative, squinting, but not damning. "Can you blame them?" he asked softly, his voice a whisper. "Being captured against their will...and you help do it. How can your master know what they want? He doesn't even know what HE wants. He praises you then beats you. He can't seem to make up his mind."
He was met with another one armed shrugged. "Master says elves are born to serve and they are without wants only needs that he supplies. Besides in the end the only one who ever cares is Master...and you," Navarre added even quieter not knowing if she thought it or said it aloud. "I am never seen as something in need, only something to be used. But Master is different. He needs me. The others..."
The Avariel shuddered, her hands faltering slightly in her ministrations. "I am be the most disgusting of all creatures, second only to you. But even as an animal my base nature does not run as deep as those I help enslave or those that enslave them in turn. Even among animals there are things we do not do. Many I lead down my path are not as clean as you would believe slave."
"No not address me as such. I am no slave!" he hissed, eyes growing hot. "I have a name. It's Theiryk." He turned his head away, though the vice around his neck strained him and he coughed softly, trying to not to draw anymore attention in his direction.
"A name you forbade me from using," she reminded him evenly, unphased by his actions as they were nothing new to her. Thankfully not much attention had been drawn to them and she shifted so as to sit on his other side and begin working studiously there.
"Call me nothing else then," he nearly spat. "I am a Wild Elf. I am not an animal... And you shouldn't think of yourself as such either. But...tch, what do you care what I think?" He looked away and sighed, licking his dry lips.
Navarre closed her eyes briefly as she blindly ran the cloth up and down his arm. In a soft voice that nearly shook she protested. "But I am an animal. If I wasn't then I would be...," she paused and wondered then where she would be if she was free. "Not here," she concluded weakly. "But I am here," came her stronger declaration, "and so are you for that matter."
"Oy! Don't talk to it just clean it you idiot!" One of the guards shouted before hurling a rock at the pair. It hit her in the chin before falling dully on Theiryk's chest. Though it did not remain there long before Navarre was removing it with a sigh.
Going against all of her training, the Avariel rebelled slightly by leaning lower so as to whisper more without being noticed. Something in her desired to answer his question even if did not expect it or wish it. "Because you cared even after knowing..."
Theiryk frowned, wishing all the more that he could move somehow in a more comfortable position. That he might at least climb to his feet and run away. He turned away from her, unwilling to look at her, for fear of his anger getting the better of him. Whatever her cause, she was still blinded by her captivity and speaking of it anymore was an argument in futility.
"Could you at least push my shoulder back into my joint? It doesn't feel right," he said instead.
She did not speak as she glanced up through her lashes to see if anyone was watching before bidding slightly. "It'll hurt," Navarre warned quietly even as she took hi wrist in her hand and placed the other one over his shoulder. "It'll be better for you if you pretend it's still wrong or they'll make it worse. Master doesn't like it when his masterpieces fix themselves," her words were bitter as she reflected on some memory only she knew.
Taking a deep breath before bracing herself, the Avariel motioned she was going to do it. Then with a quick sharp yank down and out to the side on his wrist and push on his shoulder joint she felt a grind then a sickening poo as it slid back into place. Navarre hovered over Theiryk without looking at him waiting tensely for a reprimand or beating for what she had done.
Well he did get red in the face and he felt like his eyeballs wanted to pop out. He did not scream however, as much as he wanted to. The action brought tears to his eyes and he found their wetness unusual and stinging his bruised left eye. After a few silent whimpers, he relaxed and nodded to her. "Thank you," he whispered. After a while, "Will I ever be allowed to stand? I mean, to be free of these bonds even for a few minutes?"
Navarre was startled by the sound of his voice, forgetting for a moment that he was there as she had been too busy waiting tensely for a beating that did not come. "I doubt it," she informed him quietly "Master will not let you until he knows you will not leave...or me. But then you'll never submit so never I suppose. It would be better for you if you did," she added in a reluctant whisper even as she finished tending him.
At that revelation - one he had considered but did not want to admit - Theiryk whirled his good eye back to her and stared. There was pain in his gaze, though it was obvious he did not want to show it. And anger, too, boiled there with horror and anguish. "I guess that's the best advice you're fit to give," he coughed softly. "Thank you. For the, er, clean up."
"I wish you meant it," she told him sadly while dragging away her tools and informing her Master she was done. Kreios managed to find fault with her work, claimg she had done too much when in truth she probably had. Navarre accepted her punishment without complaint even as some of the other slavers taunted and hit her while the head slaver was otherwise occupied surveying his newest prize.
"Comfortable dog? You won't always be so lucky to have my disobedient pet to care for you. Next time I might just leave you to rot in your own filth. What do you have to say about that?"
Theiryk peered up at Kreios, still seeing nothing more than a little man, and managed to bite back his laughter. "You're a very generous master, indeed, I did not see it before. I know when to count my blessings. I apologize for my behavior." If it worked, it's at least buy him some time to formulate a better plan.
Kreios smirked as he stared down with crossed arms at the slave. "It's a start but don't think you're getting free any time soon. For your obedience though you may have some water. If you can reach it," he chuckled as he motioned the guards to loosen some of the tension in his chains before placing a bucket just out of reach. "Any other requests, slave? I'm sure my pet would be obliged to appease you with her wiles. She's quite good at it," his lecherous expression said far more than his words as he he cast his eyes briefly away from Theiryk to gleefully watch his pet endure her tormentor's torture.
Theiryk watched the bucket drop with an unceremonious plop beside him, teasingly close and he did his best to keep his anger to himself. Instead he simply turned to Kreios and bowed his head. "I am content," he said,. "Thank you again."
He did his best to drown out the whimpers in the background, sitting up in his manacles and chains in futile attempts to reach the water bucket. He knew Kreios would like a show at least for his own amusement.
"But of course," the slave master sarcastically replied with a mock bow. "Anything to appease our esteemed guest of honor. Isn't that right boys?" The men made sounds of agreement among their cruel laughter. With an unspoken command, Navarre was called back and made to kneel before the struggling slave though her eyes never once moved towards his own.
"Why don't you give the poor guest a helping hand, pet. He seems to be all tired out from his journeying," Kreios ordered, giving her such a shove that she nearly spilled the entire bucket as her chest collided with it. Hurrying to comply and not even considering whether Theiryk would resist her or not, the Avariel dipped her hands into the water and then lifted them together to offer them as a leaking cup to the Wild Elf's lips. "Honored guest," she murmured, her eyes locked with the squashed blades of grass beneath her knees.
Theiryk knew the insult intended behind the charade. It was obvious even to a blind and deaf person that this was only the beginning of the manipulation and humiliation. He considered influencing the water to come to him, to find a crack in the pail it was contained in and leak out onto the ground, but he didn't dare consider that in front of this bastard. So he kept up his struggle, reaching for the water when Navarre collided with it. The water splashed a little onto the grass and he flinched, much to Kreios' delight.
He could feel his satisfaction and it made Theiryk cringe and boil with anger. His face burned in shame and rage, heat permeating his vision as he saw Navarre cupping some water. He shifted forward, hesitantly at first before reaching with his manacled hands and held the bottom of her hands before leaning in to take a drink of what water was left.
Navarre startled ever so slightly to feel hands gently cupping her own but was otherwise relieved to see Theiryk at least not outwardly treating her with open disdain. She could not understand why that thought bothered her so, but it did and no amount of trying to drown it in other thoughts was going to change it.
Her lips quirked unknowingly in the barest hint of a smile as she once more dipped her hands in the bucket and this time hurried to get them towards his mouth and his own set of hands. "Is it not to your level of standards, honored guest?" Kreios spat, his words instantly wiping away any joy she had been feeling.
"I don't hear a thank you, slave," the man continued, reaching forwards to try and yank the Avariel back by her hair if Theiryk did not act fast enough to his liking.
Theiryk drank again and glared up at Kreios. He felt his anger rise up in him and this time he couldn't suppress it. Perhaps he couldn't use his hands to defend himself, but that wasn't all at his disposal. As he saw him reaching for Navarre's hair, Theiryk congealed the air around him, and suddenly a force as hard as a brick wall slammed into him, knocking him ten feet across the ground.
And Theiryk burst out laughing just shortly before aheavy boot collided with his gut, making the Wild Elf keel over.
Kreios hit the ground hard, the wind knocked out of him, preventing him from giving any order. Yet, he was able to observe as his men attempted to descend upon the slave, one even managing a rather vicious kick before his little pet was standing tall and fierce over the Wild Elf.
A snap of Navarre's fingers had the chains pulled painfully tight again to force Theiryk back down on his back. Her eyes though were on the one who had dared to strike the slave. "Did Master give you permission to damage his property? Well?! I didn't think so," she spat. "Don't just stand there, go help him," came her commanding bark.
As the men rushed off to obey, she finally allowed her gaze to drop to the creature at her feet. "That was not wise," she informed him. In a fluid movement, Navarre dropped down to crouch beside him, her hand resting on his injured belly to lift his shirt and examine the damage. Her eyes still focused on the bruising flesh the Avariel added in a whisper as soft as the wind, "but thank you."
He grit his teeth, the tightening of the chains around his body becoming almost too much to bear and he felt his back ache in protest again. He coughed and hacked, peering at her with a pale face. "Yeah well, he'll get enough outta me. No need for him to make you bleed to," he wheezed. Suddenly there was a rise in his belly and he leaned forward and retched. "Ugh. Sorry."
The fair-haired shrugged her shoulders without looking at the male beneath her. "It is my place as much as it is now yours. Nothing new to me," she muttered moments before he retched all over himself.
A roll of her eyes and a heavy sigh were the only indications of her displeasure before she was ordering an adjustment of the chains and rolling him onto his side so he would not choke. His shirt was cut from his body and used as a rag to clean him off even as she apologized regretfully for having to destroy it.
Navarre was just about to offer him some more water to rinse the taste from his mouth as the slave master finally regained himself and came flying over, whip in hand. One crack sent the Avariel scuttling away, the pail of water spilling as she fled from the pain that seared through her shoulder.
"Got a bit of a fighter don't we boys? Thinks himself something for striking his master and taking for granted his master's hospitality. Seems we'll be fitting you slave with a similar albeit less fashionable collar as my little pet. Can't have you doing that again now can we?" Raising the whip up in warning he added, "try that again and I'll shred you to the bone. Understood whelp?"
Theiryk smiled through bloodied teeth. "Yessir, very good sir. Will keep it in mind serrah," he cackled. "It was fun while it lasted. But ah, looks like you got a little something on your trousers. I don't think that's mud." And he cackled again. "Horse poodoo. Musta landed in it when you fell on your ass."
And there was hesitant but obvious laughter from the men around him.
It was Navarre who interceded and kept Theiryk from suffering more than two blows from the butt of Kreios' cruel whip. The man had fire in his eyes and the Avariel just could not let him destroy the one creature who had so much to answer for to her. She had too many questions that needed answering and the Wild Elf needed to live long enough to do so. At the rate he was mouthing off though it was not likely for that to happen.
She practically flung herself at the furious man, pressing herself close while placing soothing hands on his chest and arm. "Please Master," she begged. "Don't concern yourself with such filth. Let the others handle him for you. You should not sully yourself with such a lowly creature. Come Master, let me soothe away your woes," she continued imploringly, her hands gently tugging him back with her towards Kreios' personal wagon.
For several heart-pounding moments, she was sure he would ignore her in favor of destroying the Wild Elf and his big mouth that never seemed to know when to stop. But, at last the man relented, storming off and leaving Navarre to clean up his mess. Harshly she ordered Theiryk to be bound securely and the special collar found and placed upon him.
As the men busied themselves she glared angrily down at him. "Learn to curb your tongue slave," she spat causing snickers and smirks to appear on the other men. "He will kill you! He has before and in his eyes you are coming close to not worth the aggravation. Do you understand?" Her breath hissed from her lungs as she looked about nervously to see if she had been heard. Navarre's words may have been somewhat harsh but her eyes said something different. Her eyes pleaded with Theiryk to settle.
'How can I help you if you do not let me?'
Theiryk felt his hatred welling up again, his disgust, his anger and it burned at the back of his throat like rising bile. He didn't understand this woman-creature. He was sure she'd let her master's wrath descend upon him after all he'd done to her. Why risk herself? What was there to achieve in such an action? And then next moment she was tightening his binds.
He stared at her in the eyes, his own boiling and he trembled in it's containment. "Yes," he hissed through clenched teeth. He promptly turned his eyes away and stared at the ground. "I understand perfectly. You're nuts."
An avain tilt of her head had Navarre eying Theiryk passively before a slow smirk tugged at the corner of her lips. "Among other things," her soft voice murmured. "Remember this kindness slave for none of it was offered to me, nor I believe shall you experience much of it again with your defiance. We all have our place in this world.
"You throw it all out of balance," the Avariel spoke, not realizing she had let her final thought slip out even as she distantly listened to the men argue over where the requested collar had been last placed.
At her words, he felt cold within, empty and hopeless. Like a man judged with a death sentence and the bars slammed suddenly in his face. His vision grew distant and his tongue was vacant. Talk about being in the wrong place at the wrong time and the resulting foolishness therein. He still hated her, for what little compassion she was capable of and he turned his eyes to her slowly.
For what it was worth, if anything at all, if he was to die here, it was the least he could say. "I'm sorry," he whispered, shrugging.
She too shrugged in turn. "You put me into a position to be harmed and in the end removed me from it. Consider my debt repaid." A harsh shout of her name caused her to flinch, looking nervously towards where Kreios had disappeared to. "I have done all I can," Navarre told Theiryk sadly, fear and pain reflected in her eyes as she fought the command for a moment.
It was a moment too long though as her name was howled once more and she shuddered before taking off. She knew she was in for a night of pain from that tone. Her defiance and interference had pushed her master too far and he was going to make her hide bleed for it. She only hoped that as she left the Wild Elf in the care of the other slavers that he would not do something stupid and make her sacrifice and an act done in vain.
Thankfully by then exhaustion set in and when he saw her disappear, he closed his eyes. He must have passed out, because somewhere between a beating and hollering he found himself in an iron cage, slightly bigger than the one he first woke up in and his other binds had been removed, save for a pair around his ankles.
Theiryk awoke to the darkness of early dawn, blinking and watching the sun slowly coming up overhead. His stomach grumbled but he tried to suppress it and instead looked around for watchful eyes. The only other guards were dreadfully trying to stay awake and were paying little attention to him. Beside the cage was a bucket of water just out of reach and he leaned across the side to reach for it. He couldn't as to be expected and cursed silently, sitting up and rubbing his head.
Mornings were always a lax time around the slave camp. Men who were not on duty tended to stay up drinking or sampling the wares. As such it was also a time when Kreios was at his cruelest albeit slowest. The fact that he had indeed tortured Navarre long into the night only meant his temper was more volatile than ever.
Storming out of his makeshift room with men scurrying to get out of his way and stand at attention, the slave master made his way over to his newest acquisition's cage. "And how is our little birdy in his cage today? Shall we take you out little slave and run you, let you burn off that morning energy until you have none left? Or should I let the boys have you again? I'm sure they'd love to test their metal against your bones. What say you?"
Theiryk eyed Kreios with dulled boredom. "I think I'd like a drink of water, good Master," he said in the most respectful tone he could muster. "I have learned my lesson. I'm grateful just to have been able to sleep at night. For that I thank you."
"Have you now?" the large man queried with a scowl. An obedient slave was less fun than a repentant one. "Well it's a pity then as my little pet still hasn't woken from our fun last night." His lecherous smile returned even as he recalled the previous night's happenings. "She is far too indisposed as it were to assist you."
Clumsily his fingers worked to unlock Theiryk's cage but only after dropping the key twice. "Out ya come then," he growled, reaching in and yanking the elf forward by the back of his neck and depositing him in front of the water bucket. "No funny business now or I'll kill you as soon as look at you. Me boys and I don't like trouble now you hear?"
He obeyed. With every sickened turn of his stomach, he mustered the courage to obey without rebellion. Theiryk would waste that energy on him, this bastard still wobbly off his evening stupor. He'd reserve that energy instead for formulating a proper plan to escape.
He said nothing was Kreios dragged him out of there and shuffled to the bucket and knelt before it, cupping water and dunking it onto his head and sipping generously from it. "Thank you," he said quietly, standing once again when he had his fill.
Kreios sneered, giving Theiryk a weak shove. "Thank you, what? I'm your master you will refer to me as such, slave. Now then I believe I've put off surveying the complete package quite long enough. Strip and stand at attention elf. You won't like it if I do it," he warned, though his expression said he most certainly would. It was almost as if he was daring the Wild Elf to defy him just so he could blow off some steam.
Theiryk stumbled just a bit from the shove and quickly amended his statement. "My apologies...master," he said and stood when directed. He forced himself to be cold, to drive out his anger, or at least to suppress it long enough to obey without ripping the man's face off. He was without his binds, save for the shackles on his feet and it would not be a difficult facet to achieve. He let himself be satisfied with that thought as he met the man with dull eyes.
He stripped, pulling the rag that served as a shirt over his head and dropped the torn, ripped trousers, letting them hang around his ankles.
No time was wasted as the Slave Master instantly started looking over his prize like he was nothing more than cattle. Theiryk was pinched and prodded as Kreios assessed him, muttering notes to himself. "Strong but not a workhorse."
Noting his back and later his ears, the human grumbled in irritation. "Damaged goods. Had yourself a former master did you slave? What he do, make you a gladiator? You're certainly nothing much to look at so hardly a lady's pet I'd imagine."
With a dismissive wave of his hand, Kreios signaled that the other male could cover himself again. "Guess that means you'll be slaving away to fix the mess you made of our equipment. Lucky you! There's supplies to be moved, carriages to be fixed, and a whole manner of other delightful tasks ahead of you slave. Drink up because you're going to be needing every ounce of your strength for what I have planned for you. Understood?"
Theiryk hardened his jaw and he held his breath, keeping his emotions in check as best he could. He remembered being prodded like this before, like he was some sort of cattle and he was thankful Kreios didn't make too much of a fuss over everything before he was allowed to dress again.
"Yes," he muttered. "Master. I am capable of using tools. Handy is what your people would call it. Master." He straightened again, and nodded. "I understand. Master." That word was more and more difficult to cough up.
"Perfect," the slave master nearly purred, relaxing considerably. "Well come along now and see the specifics. No need for you to be loitering about all day, you're strong enough to stand you're strong enough to work. Keep your nose to the grindstone and your trap shut and I might even be generous enough to treat you with a bite to eat. Now get a move on," Kreios urged stomping ahead while beckoning Theiryk to follow him towards a wagon of supplies on the farside of camp whose supplies needed to be transferred to another wagon on the other side. The broken axel of the first wagon was also pointed out to the slave though no tools were provided for fixing it.
"Get a move on! I ain't got all day now."
Theiryk growled internally, wishing he really was dead instead of enduring this humilation of his spirit. Was it better to be alive and in servitude or was it preferable to have maintained one's freedom until the life faded from them? Theiryk said nothing when Kreios left him to his work and the morning burned hotly on his back as the Wild Elf labored in his task. He carried the supplies he needed back and forth in a shackled walk, using the supplies provided to him to fix the wheel.
By the time afternoon was ending, Theiryk worked still, but his hunger was now eating away at him. At least now he was on the final wagon that needed fixing.
While the Wild Elf slaved away, the humans played at their card games in the shade. Most left Theiryk alone though the occasional one would "survey" his work, giving him either a jibe or a shove before returning back to their own business. Kreios was close to even forgetting about his newest slave as he drowned himself in drink and gambling.
It was only the remembrance that his precious pet was nowhere to be seen that drew him into summoning Theiryk to his side with a shout and a wave of his hand. "You done yet boy? Taken you all damn day to do such easy jobs. You'd think I asked you to bring me the shah's crowned jewel all the way in Essyrn what with the pace you're moving at!"
Theiryk frowned in his own musing silence, nearly finished in his task when Kreios came barking again. He turned to him, bowing his head and slamming the final nail into place. "Finished, sir. Yes, sir," he said quickly, standing and bowing. "Did you need me to do anything else? Er, sir."
"Attend to me and me men," he ordered gesturing towards a pitcher of ale on their makeshift table as well as the empty tankards. "And make sure you don't go spillin' none. I don't need an oaf serving me drinks because my USELESS PET can't be bothered to show its WORTHLESS FACE," the slave master howled, turning to face his personal carriage where Navarre still had failed to exit. "Careful you don't end up like that fool. You'd suffer more of your pretty cage after a beating such as hers if you do."
Theiryk peered at Kreios quizically. He initially would have questioned Navarre's absence but reconsidered it as he did as was bid of him. His stomach growled slightly as he poured the ale into proper mugs and set them before each of the guests, suppressing the urge to throw the drinks in their faces. He stood at attention, and slowly turned his head toward the carriage Navarre resided in.
"Master," he said, clearing his throat gently. "Perhaps it would be prudent to have someone attend to your slave to see her condition? It would serve you better in the long run to preserve her now would it not, rather than letting her rot?"
Kreios cursed then spat upon the ground. "That witch can rot for all I care. Her disobedience is disgraceful after all the time I put into her. Though perhaps you are into something slave. Go, go see what fate awaits you should you return to your path of obstinate anger. Tend to what you feel is life threatening and only that slave. My pet has more pain yet to come.
"Go, you're dismissed," the slave master ordered as he waved Theiryk back towards his personal compartments. His focus once more returned to his drinking and gambling as the slave was quickly forgotten.
"Yes. Master," Theiryk said quickly before stepping away quietly. He released the softest breath as he approached the door to the personal carriage and was tempted to knock softly, but thought better of it. With a click it opened and Theiryk's eyes adjusted to the bitter dark that was left within. He stepped softly, the floor lightly creaking under his weight but not by much.
"Navarre?" he murmured, gently closing the door in his wake. "Are you all right? Are you alive?"
A pained moan sounded from a bench bed where Navarre lay sprawled out on her stomach. A tattered and darkly stained sheet rested about her hips, though it did not do much to hide her form. Her bare back was a massive patchwork of scars, cuts, and welts from past and recent beatings. One arm hung limply off the bed though it twitched some as she attempted to lift herself enough to look towards the one who had called out to her.
"Yessss," her croaked answer hissed past dried and cracked lips. "Why are you here? Massster doesssn't like intrudersss. You ssshould go," Navarre groaned, moving to point back at the door and nearly falling off her perch in the process as her body protested the strain of holding her up.
"Spirits!" Theiryk stepped quickly to her side, hesitant for the moment to touch her before he grabbed her by the arms, supporting her and pulling her up against him. "You got the hell beat outta you. Your Master sent me to check on you. Gods...all this blood."
She stifled a scream as moved her and hot fire raced through her body once more, making her relive Kreios' whip. Her whole body shook with pain, tension, and overall weakness. Navarre leaned limply into Theiryk, praying he would not try and move her again.
"Masster ssent you?" came her slurred voice again. "Massster wass worried?"
"Well, to be frank, no. He didn't sound like he really gave a damn. He only allowed me because I insisted on seeing if you were okay," Theiryk said, throat heavy with worry. "Look, I can help patch up the bleeding and keep you from being in too much pain. Does Kreios keep any kind of herbs or plants around here? And a mixing bowl would help too."
"Oh." If it was possible, Navarre became even more of a deadweight in despair at her master's disinterest in her. In her mind she was a complete and utter disappointment to him. "Master wouldn't like," she informed him slowly, starting to get a bit more control over her speech. "Bowl under bed," the elf instructed as she pointed to her own filthy wooden bowl where flies gathered at the edge of the bed.
She blinked sluggishly in thought before pointing to the other end of the carriage room. "Greens in locked cabinet. Keysies umm...." another pause was necessary for her to focus. Leaning back too far from Theiryk, Navarre wobbled as she attempted to direct him to where a ring of keys hung on a hook near the ceiling out of her reach.
"Keysies open everything!" the injured woman declared with a pained grimace meant to be a smile. "Master doesn't like it when slaves look at them though. Too many ideas, Master says."
Theiryk continued to hold her, hoping he could turn her upright, at least supported by the wall. He flew to the keyrack, back to the cabinet and testing each key until he found the right one. "Well, your master seems to have an intense lack of common sense, among other things," Theiryk said as he rummaged through the herbs and took out what was needed. For that moment he didn't even think about the keys, not right away at least.
With the bowl in hand, rinsed and cleaned, Theiryk set to work, spitting into the batch of rosum blossom, ginseng, and flachard leaves. It turned purple from the blueberries he also dropped in there and whispered something to the ingedients within, something that almost seemed like a prayer.
"Okay I apply this, it might sting a bit, but it's good for you. If you need to, you can hold my hand. Whisper this with me as I apply it. It's an old Sage-whisper, passed from my father's father, and so on," he said. "Jot-ka, ab-ma vendu vinadi."
Theiryk held his breath as he repeated the whisper and took a handful of the poultice and smeared it on her back, pressing it deep into the lash wounds.
Navarre closed her eyes while Theiryk busied himself rushing about as he made her feel sick and dizzy with the way he was spinning, or perhaps that was her vision acting up. She startled slightly when he was back beside her and her hand latched onto his forearm as best as she could though her grip was akin to that of a weak babe's as her fingers struggled to cling on.
It was a struggle to remember and recite what the Wild Elf had told her and part of her wondered if she said it wrong she would turn into a toad or something. But all thoughts of such were tossed out the window the moment he was pressing the concoction he had made into her back. Her voice crescendoed as her head fell back in pain and she attempted to squirm away from the fiery pain that laced her spine.
"Recite the words," he said calmly. "Focus on my voice. Just recite the words." He repeated them again for her to hear and changed his arm for his hand, intertwining fingers together as he continued to smear the rest of the poultice along the rest of her wounds.
She tried her hardest to follow his instructions. Tears slid down her cheeks even as she forced the words out from between clenched jaws. Slowly though the words and her breathing became easier. Her body began to relax again though her hand continued to squeeze his tightly as she endured the pain. "Jot-ka, ab-ma vendu vinadi. What does it mean Thei-sla-....?"
"It means 'To the Wild, we belong. To the earth we are one. In beginning and end.' Loosely translated, of course," he whispered to her, squeezing her hand and finishing the final wound. "Keep laying on your belly. The salve needs to set. It will take a few hours for the salve to absorb into your skin. You skin will start to feel cool soon."
Navarre hummed softly in response, letting herself relax into it some. "I'm sorry you have to see something so hideous," she quietly apologized, imagining the look of disgust on his face at seeing the bony protrusions of destroyed wings. "Thank you for helping me. I know I don't deserve it."
"Oh quiet now with that nonsense. You're beautiful and you should know it," Theiryk said, though he did frown at her scars. His hand lightly traced around them and he squeezed her hand again.
"...You're not hideous. Wounds will heal with time."
Her tears fell harder and there was nothing she could do to stop them. "Nothing is beautiful about grotesque growths sticking out of your back for the world to see the hideousness of your insides pushing their way outwards. Wounds heal but not the sickness of inside."
Navarre let out a strangled sob before rushing to continue speaking. "I don't understand you. I don't understand why you make me hurt inside. You say such awful things and then you're kind. Why do you hate me? Why help me?"
Theiryk turned to her and frowned deeply. He knew he had been hard on her, but he had been prisoner to his anger, disgusted by her lack of understanding, by the lack of empathy for the slaves she had stolen, people who had lives all their own and deserved better. But had she deserved her punishment? What made him any better than her to treat her of such little worth?
"I hurt you...because I was hurt in turn," Theiryk said softly. "Because I was a slave for many years. My master was a monster...And I wanted nothing more than my freedom. I wanted to make you see...I wanted to make you understand." He grew silent for a moment and turned to look at her. "But that makes me no better than Kreios. What is a man if he becomes his enemy...? I am sorry."
"I'm sorry too," she whispered back sadly. "Since meeting you sometimes....sometimes I was as pretty as you on the inside. Maybe then Master would be happier with me and I wouldn't be so dumb. I don't know what to think anymore. You've got me so confused. I feel so...lost," Navarre told him weakly. "I don't know what to feel or do anymore."
Theiryk patted her hand and soon released it. "Then do what you want to do," he said. "Why...why do you let him hurt you? You could run away from here! Never look back and yet you continue to kneel and bow to him like some dog. Are you in love with him?"
She turned her head slightly to see him better. "I have nowhere else to go. Master's always taken care of me and loved me. I can't leave. I won't survive. With Master I know what to expect, what to strive for. Out there..." Navarre paused and shook her head, groaning slightly as her muscles protested the tense movement.
"You taught me how cruel men can be firsthand. What chance do I have out there? It's better this way. Master isn't always like this."
"And there won't be 'not always like this' when he kills you... Men are cruel, yes. But like you say about him...not all of them are. There are different men. Better men than that son of a bitch," he hissed. "I was scared too. I was terrified. I was sure my family thought I was dead... Irony of that, huh." He paused, changing his train of thought.
"This...this isn't love. You've never really known it so you have no basis for comparison. But this isn't love. Not how it should be."
"Then what is love? Because all I've ever known is a family that threw me away and Master who saved me and tried to turn me into a better person, less of a monster. You lecture me of how I'm wrong but what is the difference? You're like Master. You hurt and you heal. You yell and you soothe. You're no different than the man you tell me I can do better, but I still have nowhere to go. This isn't a world for creatures like me. If it was then wouldn't someone come looking for me? Wouldn't someone care enough to take me away? The only one that ever showed me kindness before you is the one you're intent on painting as the villain. But, isn't every villain somebody else's hero?"
Theiryk sniffed indignantly, shameful of his actions, knowing he had done little to sway himself in the positive light. He instead turned back to her and peered directly into her eyes. "Except I came in for you. He told me he thought you better off dead. Perhaps we both are just at an impasse. That I can understand. But you're...attachment to him, I cannot. All I know is that were I you, I would have run far away from him, not waited for someone to rescue me. Sometimes you must simply save yourself."
Navarre stared back for several moments, just focusing on her breathing and the cooling numbness of her once inflamed back. She heard his words and it felt like for the first time they were reaching deep within her to a place she had always locked away, a place she did not even remember having within herself. She could not say she was surprised to hear that Kreios thought her better off dead. It was not the first time he had uttered such things but in turn she had seen it as a challenge to do better in order to get his affections.
Now, staring up at a man that thought and felt so differently made her wonder and reflect. What she found deep down inside herself though made her feel so entirely small and worthless that if she could have she would have sobbed at the feeling. All her tears were spent though and she was grateful for it as she hardly wanted to humiliate herself further in front of Theiryk especially when she still had something important to say to him.
"Theiryk," she began, forgetting he had admonished her before for calling him by name, "I am so afraid. I know what happens to those that run. He never fails in finding them. He never stops. I'll never be able to be like you and run. I'm...pathetic and weak and so, so afraid. Running only ensures death doesn't it?"
Theiryk dropped his head solemnly for a moment. He did not feel the need to reprimand her for the usage of his name. It was his name and after all they were not so very different from each other, and yet it seemed they were complete opposites.
"I know," he said and reached for her hand, holding it between his palms, warming it between them. "I was scared too. Sometimes the fear is still there. But I'm still alive aren't I? I don't plan to die here and I wouldn't wish that fate on anyone. Well, except Kreios himself."
His touch caused her to shiver and close her eyes as warmth spread through her hand and up her arm. She prayed he would not scream at her or hurt her even as she winced and words came tumbling out of her mouth.
"But you're a slave again. You ran but you're back to where you started. Master won't die. He'll kill me instead for running. I don't want to die," Navarre told him with tears in her eyes. "I don't!"
Theiryk stiffened at the words that just blurted out of her mouth, flinching and he sighed. "I don't plan on staying a slave. Nor dying as one." He stared at her with intensity. "And neither should you."
He didn't know what else to say, what he could do to comfort her. He peered down at the keys he'd laid on the table and gently took them in hand. "What if I told you to help me escape? To come with me?"
"There is no escaping. Master won't undo your chains," she told him forgetting about the keys she had deliriously pointed out to him earlier. "Master always finds the ones he takes. Master uses tracking spells I know nothing about. You'd never be free and I'd be dead."
Navarre sighed and propped her chin on her crossed arms. "It's a nice dream. But Master always wins," the woman told him in a whisper as she fingered her cross necklace. "Always."
Theiryk squeezed her hand. "You don't understand... If we reach the trees...he could never find us, not unless we wanted to be found," he whispered. "He is not of the Wild. He would die trying."
Navarre pressed her face into Theiryk's hand, seeking comfort from his gentle touch. "You don't know Master," she informed him fearfully. "Master always finds the elves who run, especially...my kind. Master hates creatures like us. Maybe you're special. Maybe you can escape but I'll only get you in trouble. I don't know how Master does it but he always finds me. How do you think you were caught?"
She looked up at him with increasingly sad eyes. "I told you then, Master always finds me. I meant it. Doesn't matter what I want, it never has. It never will," the elf whimpered, trying to curl in on herself before groaning in pain as she disturbed her wounds. "Nothing matters."
Theiryk suddenly gripped her hand tightly. "Stop it," he hissed. "Stop thinking like that. You believe your Master all knowing and invincible. Well, he isn't. He's a man like any other, magic or not. He's never hunted Wild Elves. We aren't like other kinds. If you help me escape, I can help you stay hidden. We will never be found."
"Could you really?" the Avariel asked with wide almost hopeful eyes. "Would you...really?" Struggling to sit up though her body protested loudly, crackling and popping from being still so long. "You're not going to..." Navarre's speech trailed off as she reached for Theiryk to steady herself.
"How can I trust you?"
Theiryk peered at her in silence, studying her face, her eyes in particular and then looked away. She questioned her trust for him, and yet she was the one that betrayed him first. Was this a mistake? He likely shouldn't be telling her his plans in the first place, but the words had just come out of him. Had he jeopardized his only chance at escape? His heart caught in his throat at the despair that very thought caused him.
Theiryk put a hand over his mouth, gripping his own jaw and mulling the answer over and over in his thoughts before peering back at her. "How is it that I can trust you?" he asked softly.
She stared up at him quietly before letting her eyelids slid shut and a gentle smile tug at the corners of her lips. "You can't," the elf told him calmly. "But then that makes us even now doesn't it?"
Her eyes opened once more to watch his face for any hints of deceit. It was not him that she feared though but her Master who even now drank and gambled himself into a frenzy that later would be taken out on her hide if she remained. If she did not then when he found her again, if he found her she would feel his wrath tenfold. If Theiryk could keep good on his promise, if she could trust him then she would never have to worry again about if Kreios ever found her. She wondered if she really could trust him and something inside her, the same something that kept niggling at her more and more since she met this Wild Elf told her she could.
She was right in a way. They were on even ground. Theiryk peered at her back, studying the lashings the scars and the strange 'knobs' on her back before his eyes trailed back to hers. He studied her expression, how wide-eyed she was, how foolish, and yet hesitant all the same. He remembered that look, like a caged animal, fearful and hopeful in conflicting waves that turned this way and that.
"I promise to uphold my end, if you uphold yours," he found himself saying at last.
"And I promise the same," Navarre replied immediately without hesitation. She sighed deeply, not realizing until she felt relief in her chest that she had been holding her breath. Laying back down and resting her head upon her hands she began to think strategically.
"How long before I will be well enough to move do you think? How fast does this stuff work? I assume of course you would want to venture out as soon as possible yes?"
"I can wait long enough for you to heal properly. It would be unwise for you to travel into the wilds wounded. The serum will work in three days time. One application is all you need, but...but you must not let Kreios make your wounds any worse," Theiryk replied and squeezed her arm.
"He will kill you if he beats you anymore. You may not think it because of the strong feelings you have for him, because you trust him. But all wounds will eventually take their toll. I would know." And with that he lifted the back of his shirt and pulled it partway over his head, revealing the scars all along his back.
She snorted quietly while muttering under her breath, "just you try and stop him then." Her words caught in her throat though at the sight of his scars. Navarre had seen glimpses of them before but not like this. She had grown up seeing scars her whole life as slaves came and went. The Avariel had even delivered a few of her own, so seeing his back was nothing new to her.
Yet, for reasons unknown to her she felt compelled to reach out to him. The back of one hand gently brushed against his patchwork of scars. As she got bolder, Navarre shifted to be on her side and allow her fingertips and palm to trace as many of them as she could reach. The texture fascinated her however it was more than that to her. Behind each mark the Avariel could imagine the pain that came from their creation and for the first time in her entire life, she found herself sympathizing with another slave.
At last her hand dropped away and moved to pull the threadbare sheet up over to provide her with a bit of modesty. "Just be sure it's not you he ends up killing. When Master is drunk it doesn't matter who he hits as long as he's the one who hits the hardest. You, me, one of the boys...don't go and die on me after getting me into this mess, okay?" Her words were brusque but her eyes spoke of her fear and concern. There was not a thing Navarre could do to stop Kreios from coming in and beating either of them. She only prayed it would not be Theiryk as she could not trust him to not retaliate. He reminded her of a wild horse seconds away from throwing the reigns and kicking.
Theiryk involuntarily flinched and whimpered when she caressed his back with her fingertips. He felt them trail along his spine and the hackles on the back of his neck started to rise as he held his breath. The whole moment was uncomfortably intimate and Theiryk couldn't help feeling vulnerable, in a way that even being inspected by Kreios did nothing to provoke. Pain was temporary, true. But the scars would never vanish and neither would the memories.
When she was finished, Theiryk hardly realized it then he hesitantly pulled the rag over his head. "Okay," he said laconically with a small nod. "First let's get you back in a more comfortable position. Don't upset your wounds."
With his help, Navarre settled back down into a more comfortable position for her healing back and she was once more partially covered up to keep from getting a chill. Afraid he would leave her to suffer the dark alone now that he was done she hurried to engage him in a conversation that had been preying in her mind since he had entered the carriage in search of her.
"If Master didn't send you then why did you go looking for me? I thought you'd be happy to see me missing from your sight and beaten bad enough to stay that way. Why do you care when he doesn't?" Her voice choked on the last question as the elf was overwhelmed by the slow shattering of all her beliefs catching up to her as tattered lies.
It was not an easy question to answer. He wondered at it himself and couldn't easily ascertain the reason he'd insisted on checking up on Navarre when her own master had abandoned her. She was of no real concern of his, and he found her greatly irksome in most respects, truth be told.
"Part of it," he began, "was to get away from Kreios and being ordered around like some house slave. And because...I didn't see anyone else coming to check on you. I'm sure if you were dead, the least he'd notice would be a strange smell and he'd have me to clean it up. So best to bite the blade ahead of time, right?" Theiryk smiled sheepishly and shrugged. "At least you're tended to now."
"That I am," she concurred. There was a brief pause before she added, "thank you. I mean it. Do you have other duties to preform? I would..." Navarre found herself biting her own tongue as she mentally kicked herself for the thought she wanted to finish but found herself struggling with. She could get them both in trouble by asking him to stay. But, after spending an entire day wishing for death, the darkness seemed far too terrifying to battle alone.
A shake of her golden head quickly ended it though. "Nevermind."
Theiryk paused and shrugged amidst her dismissal. It was just as well that he ought not to overstay his leave of absense. Likely Kreios would wonder what was taking so long. Theiryk gestured for her to wait a moment before he suddenly stood and wandered toward the iron oven built into the carriage wall and made a small fire, heating some hot water and brewing some tea. He shut the grate and even put out the fire when the tea was done and served it on the cleanest dishes he could find. "Here," he said. "Be careful, it's hot."
Navarre accepted the cup though she just held it for the time being allow the warmth of it to seep into her hands. "Three days?" Her question slipped out though she did not realize she had spoken aloud.
Three days until freedom. Three days until Kreios tried looking for her. Three days to be patient. Three days to endure her master's drunken tempers. Three days to decide whether or not she should trust Theiryk and run with him or betray him and hand him over to Kreios. Three days seemed like an eternity to her and the seconds before her death sentence all in one.
She wondered how the elf beside her felt about it all. Surely he was ready to be done with it all, he had made his displeasure well known. But would he really wait three days for her to heal? Or would he leave her behind to bear the beatings meant for him? Navarre did not think the latter would be the case given the time he had just spent on healing her. But then nothing ever seemed logical to her having grown up under the care of a madman.
Theiryk carefully sipped his cup of tea with care and sat in silence for several minutes. Her question interrupted his thoughts and he gazed at her again. "Three days, yes. Perhaps we might be able to move sooner, by the end of the second day. However, I...I would be willing to wait the third day if it increases our chances of escape. If you are wounded and cannot travel, or take sick, then we will surely be caught. Our best chances of survival reside in our bodies, and the steeling of our minds. Do you understand this?"
"I understand," Navarre solemnly replied. "I...have concerns though. From what I heard off and on today you pleased Master and worked hard. He may very well deem you ready for market within that time. You should be prepared, if this is really something you want to do. No, the more pressing problem though is how are you going to get those," she nodded pointedly at the keys he still had, "again? He's not likely to let you back in here and I can't reach them even if I was alone here. There's nothing portable I could stand on and it's not exactly like I could just suddenly sprout wings and fly you know."
"Maybe I'll make him mad enough to decide he has to whip me into shape before he can sell me. Or maybe I prove to him well enough that I can be trusted and that he takes this godforsaken collar off. Maybe I get injured on the job and I cannot be tended to unless I am free of my shackles," Theiryk furrowed his brows as he thought. "Bathing. I have not had a proper bath in a while. But would he care enough to allow a new prospect go to market all filthy?"
The Avariel sighed angrily and shook her head sharply in response. "No, no, no! You defy him and he'll kill you. If you injure yourself that badly then you're no use to either of us for what you want to do and a bath?" Navarre sneered. "You had one the first morning you were here. Or don't you remember your refreshing bucket of ice water?"
She groaned as she dug the heel of one hand into her forehead. "Obey him and keep your mouth shut. I'll..." An icy hand seemed to grip her insides, forcing her to hesitate. If she spoke the words aloud then it would be real. What they were talking about was a very serious matter. It could mean life or death for them both depending on whether or not they were found out.
"I'll see what I can do about the collar. Perhaps if you're good he'd allow you to be tethered instead. You may be forced into improvising though. Just don't do anything stupid. My life is as important to me as yours is to you. I'm sure you wouldn't risk yourself getting killed to save me," she said with a shrug.
Theiryk blinked at her fury and frowned. "Well what do you suggest then?" he asked in a harsh whisper. "I'd like to know your idea, to know we at least have a solid plan more or less. With Kreios being how he is, I don't think we'll have more opportunities to talk like this."
"You're the one that wanted this in the first place," she hissed frustratedly. "I told you though I'll see what I can do to get him to loosen your bonds. You have to be obedient though. A toe out of line and you can forget it. Do you even understand how difficult this is for me? Master finds out and I'll be in a box for the rest of my life! And you, you he'll whip to the bone and then feed to the dogs! You're right we have to plan now but we have to have good ones. Otherwise there is no point and we might as well go tell Master now because the end will be the same if we fail."
Her own tone made Theiryk boil to the core, but he otherwise contained himself and just reached out and flicked at her head. "Okay," he said. "You do that when it's time to go. Just flick my forehead." He leaned back and gauged her for a second. "Okay," he repeated. "I'll do as you say for now. I think Kreios may be wondering what's taking me so long. I should get back."
She flinched and blinked in surprise at the flick before nodding her head stiffly. "Fine, whatever. He's probably forgotten about you anyway. If he was drinking out of the green bottle than he's not going to remember much of anything come morning. It's the blue one that's not good."
Another shake of her head ceased her running at the mouth though her eyes soon widened as she remembered something. "Aye wait!" Navarre motioned him close and then signaled with an "unlocking" action of her hands for him to hand over the keys.
"He can search you and not find them but he won't think to look to me. He knows I can't get to them. Just in case," she told him pointedly.
Theiryk nodded to her and handed over the keys. He didn't remember which bottle Kreios was drinking out of, but he still thought it better to play it safe than to not show up at all. Navarre could get it worse and then where would their plan be. Theiryk paused before he went out the door and looked at her. "Thank you," he whispered before he went back outside.
His thanks startled her more than even the flick to the head. Navarre almost asked him why he was thanking her but he was already out the door by the time she had control of her tongue again. Instead of dwelling on it she pushed herself to rest herself physically while concocting her first real step towards defying Kreios and being free of him altogether. The very notion of it terrified her. But, she was not about to back down now. The fire Theiryk had lit within her still burned bright. At the moment she felt like she could challenge the world if given the chance.
Outside, Kreios was in a good albeit drunken mood. He was on a winning streak at that particular moment and had drunken nearly as much alcohol as he had sloshed all over his person. None of the men even noticed the elf's return from the carriage as they continued to shout and throw cards about in frustration.
The night was a long one of getting drinks and cleaning up the mess left over by the men after they retired. Kreios had left Theiryk largely alone and did not ask about Navarre's status. It was just as well, he would find out for himself as he retired to his carriage with some assistance.
Having heard Kreios' approach, Navarre hurried to vacate the sole bed moments before the drunk man toppled upon it in a dead sleep. For several moments she stood fearfully in the dark, her heart pounding against her ribcage as if the man would suddenly awaken and beat her for her thoughts but when nothing happened she allowed herself to relax enough to grab a light robe and carefully wrap herself up in it.
She quietly exited the carriage, waving back men who hovered to their respective tasks as she resumed her own duties as an overseer of the camp. Navarre had decided that the first task she must undertake in order for them to be free was to make her presence once more known. If she was back to barking orders, no one would think twice to her changing things about Theiryk's containment.
Halfway across the camp though she was beginning to regret her choice as her knees shook stubbornly beneath her. Pulling her robe closer about her front, the elf allowed herself a moment of rest before inquiring from the other men after their newest slave.
"Don't tell me you fools forgot him! Master will have your heads if he isn't taken care of properly. Slave" she called curtly. "Come here so I can inspect you. I don't trust these idiots to do it properly when they're not sober."
Old habits died hard. Really they did. So when she barked for the 'slave' to draw near, his old anger boiled up again. At that realization, Theiryk knew then that those three days were going to be the longest in captivity. He didn't know how he was going to stay subservient for that sustained period of time.
But...if it meant his freedom, he would swallow his pride, his rage, his suffering. If meant he could feel the wind at his back once more.
He approached Navarre, back hunched, shoulder sulking, clearly irritated, but listening all the same. "You called?" he growled lightly.
"Watch your tone," she chided him. "If it was the Master instead of me I'd tan your hide for such tongue. You're lucky I'm feeling generous. Now, tell me Slave did they remember to feed you?"
Actually it was only then that he remembered that he hadn't had a meal all day. The hot tea had soothed him some, made him feel at ease for that fraction of a moment. He blinked at her and shook his head, clenching his jaw irritably.
"No. Er. Madam," he said, speaking softly.
Her lips pursed tightly and she frowned fiercely. "Fools!" Navarre ordered him to sit, pointing to a dry patch of ground even as she got back to her feet and moved to gather some grain and water to cook over the fire.
Once it was started, she returned to sitting beside him, allowing the dancing flames to warm her in the night air. "Tell me Slave," she began quietly, "what did you do today? Perhaps if you're good I'll let you sleep under the stars instead of in your cage."
He couldn't tell whether she was putting on a front or simply falling back into her own routine. Theiryk would follow along with it for now and he blinked at her tentatively. "I fixed the wagon axles and wheels... I tended to the Master with Food and drink. That is all."
"Good Slave," Navarre commended quietly. "If you continue with such behavior then you can expect good things. Master is only hard because he has to be, because you make him be. Hard-work gets you much further in life than resistance," she continued to say while slopping gruel into two wooden bowls.
A careful glance about, allowed her to note that no one was observing them so she hurried to add some dried fruit and nuts to the bowl she would then hand to Theiryk. None were added to her own though as she feared stealing more than a handful at a time or else face discovery. "Try not to eat like a pig. It really does throw off my appetite and you're not the only hungry one."
Theiryk was even more afraid of what she might have put in his food. From what he observed it was little more than a handful of nuts and berries mixed into the tasteless slop inside the bowl.
Theiryk held it hesitantly before peering up at Navarre. "What...is the matter with you?" he whispered in the softest breath he could. "You gone crazy or something?"
A brow rose, unbidden at his whisper before she too replied, her lips barely moving as she did. "Hardly. You need your strength and you won't keep it with this gloop. Some nutrition is better than none. It's the best I can do." Her head dipped low guilty. "Sorry."
Theiryk nodded gravely at first, as if she reprimanded him and he soon ate the slop with some feigned reluctance. "It really does taste awful," he griped in a sharp whisper. He slurped it down and chewed on the berries and nuts like there was no tomorrow.
"You're telling me," she muttered while drinking down her own unappetizing bowl of gruel. "Do you have to make such noise?!" Navarre griped louder as one of the men patrolling came closer. "Disgusting maggot. Don't make me take my generosity back for your insolence."
He heard the crunching of boots and instinctively shrunk back, flinching at her tone. Theiryk paled and hunched down like a good dutiful, fearful slave ought to be. "That was good," he whispered and he slurped the rest more quietly now. "What did Kreios do when he got in there?"
She gulped down the rest if her meal, wincing at the sensation of it sliding down her throat. "He passed out on the bed seconds after I vacated it. If I hadn't have moved so quick I'd probably still be stuck there," Navarre whispered conspiratorially. "Thank you for ensuring I could."
Theiryk almost ghosted a smile and gave her a nod. "So what now? Do you whip me into shape? Or do we sit in relative silence?"
Navarre yawned loudly and shook her head. "I'd really rather not beat you if it's all the same to you Slave. I'm far too tired so if you could just behave yourself for the rest if the night I'll let your little slurping incident slide. Oh and clean the pot and these bowls. Master will want breakfast come morning and he certainly won't take to eating your pig slop. Then when you're done that you can stoke this fire and attend to me since there are no other slaves to do so."
Theiryk spat into his bowl, the taste bitter as he took her tone as almost enjoying it. Well she better enjoy it while it lasted, even if it was only for a moment. "Yes, Madam," he said, and did as he was told, sloping the dishes into the dirty water and scrubbing it all clean.
Theiryk dried the dishes and set them aside and returned to Navarre with his hands behind his back. "What now? Madam."
"Fix the fire," she reminded him while sliding off her perch to sit on the ground in front of the crates. "Then come sit behind me. There is much to talk about still and Master always leaves such things to me. Saves him the aggravation he says."
Theiryk felt the hackles rise on the back of his neck. He stabbed the fire with ferocity, little pieces of kindling flying up into the air and settle softly on the ground. He stirred the ashes and put extra logs on the fire.
Sitting beside her, Theiryk fought hard to hold his tongue. He had to practically bite down on it to keep it still. Inside he was fuming, but he did his best to look meek and he peered up at Navarre. "What do you wish to speak of?" he asked.
She leaned against him slightly, her eyes falling closed in contentment. For a few minutes she continued to rest that way in silence as if she had forgotten Theiryk's presence. It was only after a group of guard retired I. Their bedrolls that she began to speak quietly to him.
"It is true I often talk to the slaves but as far as the men know I am only asking about your former master and duties. What I want you-no let me rephrase that. What I would like you to tell me about is what it's like out there." Navarre nodded blindly towards the trees. "What's so special about it?"
It was an uncomfortable fifteen minutes, waiting for the guards to go to sleep and Theiryk fought the urge to shrink away as she leaned against him. Boy she was a strange one, even moreso than he first thought. Theiryk waited until she spoke before turning to look at her again.
"Out there? The trees?" he asked with a furrowed brow. "That...is not easy to explain. Out there, to be free. There's no other feeling like it. It's thrilling, and exhilarating, and exciting, and terrifying all at the same time. Remember when we first went flying. How you get that urge to look at the ground, but at the same time, your body's moved at the speed and height at which the wind takes you. That's what it's like out there, most days. The wind speaks to me and I listen. I think anyone can hear it if you know how to listen."
"And what does it tell you?" Navarre smiled a gentle almost childlike smile as she tried to imagine what it would be like to leave out there with him. She did remember the feeling of flying on the winds with him and she knew that first taste would not be enough for her. She had loved it and wanted to do it again again. It was something she was sorrowful to have learned she would never be able to do herself. At the time something inside her had awoken and not deep in her heart remembering made her feel empty at the loss.
Theiryk frowned, eyes somber, He missed it already. "It whispers many things. But often those things are confusing and indiscernable. Yet when you listen really carefully you can almost hear it call your name. It tells you to run, be free, come home."
Navarre pressed closer against Theiryk's side, feeling tired from her painful day and his quiet voice. "Sounds beautiful," she told him though. "And where is home? Wherever? Or is there one place where your heart is most at peace?"
"Home is a long long way from here," Theiryk mused, staring into the fire. "Home is the Wild. But the place I was born, that is far from here. I was raised under the care of my father's hand. I am not welcome there any more. At least, I wouldn't be without open hostility."
Her eyes snapped open to look up at him in shock. "Why?" she found herself asking without thinking of the consequences. "Did they abandon you too because you weren't good enough?"
Theiryk dropped his head slightly, shaking it. "Not quite. I had done things that were not in accordance with our ways. His ways. But that is a very long story." He sighed and chewed on his lip for a moment. "I chose to leave. And I stay away most of the time. I am without a clan among my kind. That makes me fair game to rival clans. But I learned to fight and survive well."
"That must be so lonely. I can't imagine being on my own like that. I've always had Master to take care of me after my parents threw me away. How old were you when you left? Do you miss it?" Navarre tried to imagine what it was like for Theiryk but she had no basis for comparison. He seemed to remember or at the very least know who his family was while she had none. She did not even have more than distant memories of what they could have been like while he had made an actual choice to leave.
Theiryk was silent for a time as he mulled over what he'd said. He didn't know what she'd do with the information, if anyrhing. He almost regretted telling her.
"It was not long ago, though I am an elf, I am not very old. Most of life was spent in captivity. But yes, sometimes I miss it. Especially the Night of the Sprits," he said simply. "What about you?" he asked. "Why would your parents throw you away?"
Navarre inhaled sharply, not expecting him to turn the question back on her. She paled and shuddered with contained fury before she was able to contain herself enough to answer. "I was ugly and deformed at birth. They must have wanted something pretty and perfect and I wasn't it. I would have died if it wasn't for Master. I wasn't even old enough to do more than roll let alone crawl."
She sighed and shook her head sadly. "Sometimes I wonder what it would have been like...most days I just wonder what I did wrong. Doesn't matter though. I grew up without them and...well every little bird leaves the nest right?"
"Yeah I suppose," he murmured, staring at her for a moment. "But...you don't ever think of what it might've been like if you went out on your own instead of staying with your Master? I know you said he saved you...but, have you ever once questioned what he told you before I came along?"
"No and....no," she whispered softly. "I've been raised not to question. What reason did I even have to question when I have only ever lived this life. I still don't know if...would be better. Here I have love and safety and purpose. Out there...out there I will be further subject to disgust and ridicule and rejection. You alone proved that when you handed me to those men. No one likes an Avariel. No one likes deformity and anything less that perfect."
"You really don't understand do you?" Theiryk muttered, rearing back. "Those men didn't tear at you because you're an elf. They did so because you are a slaver. And many of them were slaves, criminals in shackles. They cared not of what race you were. It was only when they found out you were also a slave did they turn on me. I guess that's a mistake I won't make twice."
Theiryk sighed and folded his hands together. "And nobody's perfect. Despite everything you're master told you."
She shrugged her shoulders, unwilling to argue with him right then. "Not even you," Navarre piped up instead in response to him telling her no one was perfect. "I'd swear with the way you act you think you are sometimes."
"Especially not me," Theiryk said, turning to her, speaking softly for once. "I know I must sound high and mighty to you...but...I know what it's like to be trampled on, to be considered less than dirt! Even lesser than you! Maybe I just refuse to be trampled on again. But I am not perfect. I just know what I believe. And everyone should have the right to choose their own way."
"Lesser than me?" she responded, quirking a brow meaningfully. "You make my head spin. I don't know what to think anymore and it's...well it certainly doesn't feel good I can say that much. What if I'm wrong, if I've always been wrong? Worse, what if I'm right? I'll never be able to go back. Either way...I'm going to be alone aren't I?" Navarre asked sadly. "Leaving means forever being alone."
"Maybe," Theiryk said. "There's always the uncertainty; you never know what the future holds. You don't know if you'll die from a wild animal attack one day, or be killed by headhunters the next. You never know if you'll go hungry, or if you get stung by a poison rosenark and die a swollen death. But you alone should decide your fate. Not anyone else. Not because you're too scared to even want to try, not because you must live by another's whim. Whether you're alone or find your purpose resting with someone who doesn't treat you like dirt, anything is better than dying a slave. I doubt Kreios would even give you the courtesy of putting your body to proper rest. He'd leave you in the bushes no doubt, to rot. Without a prayer, without a thank you. You're just fertilizer."
Theiryk was somber and wondered if Navarre would be too scared to go through with their plan. He hoped she would find the strength, the gumption.
Navarre shivered and tensed against Theiryk. Her eyes darted about quickly in thought before she suddenly withdrew from the warmth of his side and moved to stand stiffly on her feet. "Come along slave, time to put you away now," she ordered impassively. Whatever thoughts she held remained her own as her face reflected none of the inner tumult that she felt.
Theiryk stayed silent but did as he was told. He felt strained around her and confused, unsure how to act, or how to speak. "No chains," he said gently, once they reached the cage he was going to reside in. "Please."
The Avariel reached out and gave his wrist a quick squeeze before opening the door of his cage and reaching in to pull out the longest chain. "You served Master well today so I see no reason for you to be all trussed up like a goose tonight. You've earned yourself that at least. Well done! But Master still won't be pleased if you decide to change your mind and make a break for it, so chained you still must be. You should be plenty comfortable though...I think.
"Aaaaand, here you go," Navarre softly declared while working the complicated locks on the collar to link it to the chain. A gentle tug informed them both that it was now secure. "It's not something you'll be able to escape yourself, so don't bother trying. Only way you can escape this is if someone unlocks you or, and mind you this won't ever happen," she told him with a look he should understand, "if someone fails to lock you in properly which of course I haven't done tonight."
With a shooing motion towards the open door as she stepped back, Navarre urged him towards the cage. "In you go now. No trouble."
She spoke so strangely, so soft spoken and yet, he realized then, a quiet mania that seemed the result of years of abuse. Animals locked in cages and poked and prodded could lash out unpredictably. He knew that better than most.
And he did the unthinkable. In fact he wasn't thinking, but he only realized what happened after the fact. Theiryk gently leaned in and kissed her, softly on the corner of her mouth and quickly pulled away. He moved fast enough the movement was nearly imperceptible. He blinked at her for a second before slipping into the cage.
The act was completely foreign to Navarre. For several long moments she stood completely frozen where he had left her, her eyes wide and unblinking in complete fear and incomprehension. She had been too young when she had been torn from her family to remember what a kiss was and it certainly was not something she had experienced since her own captivity.
When Theiryk had leaned in towards her, she had thought it would be to tell her something or even to spit at her or bite her. The tender touch though was neither of those and she simply did not know how to react to it.
With a heavy clang the cage door swung shut and more out of reflex than actual intention she continued with ensuring it was locked. A few more owlish blinks and she was suddenly scampering away like a kicked puppy, disappearing into the night as fast as her weary feet could carry her.
Theiryk jumped when she slammed the gate shut. He hadn't even paid attention to the lock when she stormed away and he simply watched her go. He swallowed dryly, waiting in silence, then sat back. What was that!? What was HE thinking? He couldn't say and by the time he might have gotten any notion of the answer, sleep overcame him and the next morning he was awoke to a silent early morning.
He was just thankful, Kreios was too drunk from last night to give him trouble so early on.
For what part of the night that Navarre had remained awake was spent trying to analyze and understand what had happened between her and Theiryk but it was something impossible for her to wrap her head around. Come morning's light she was as bamboozled as the night before and by the time she found herself standing before the elf's cage, she still did not know what she thought of it all.
Therefore, as she began unlocking his cage and beckoning him out with her hand to get washed up, she refrained from uttering a single word. The only sign that she had not forgotten the previous night's event was the wary manner by which she kept her distance from Theiryk as if afraid he would try and swoop in and place his lips upon her again in his strange fashion.
He was surprised she came back after what she did. "Oh," he said, and gave a sheepish grin. "It's you." He followed her motion, but didn't know what to make of her silence. It was all too confusing for him as well. He couldn't fathom why he did what he did. But it happened and he couldn't just take it back. It was best, he thought, to not think about it at all.
"Are you all right?" he asked, undressing to clean himself easier. A bucket of soap and another of water would make short work of any grime that remained on him.
Navarre flinched and jumped when he spoke, forgetting that just because she was silent did not mean that he was going to be. "Wash up," she ordered tensely while staring at him out of the corner of her eye and ignoring his question. Unconsciously her hand reached up to touch the place where his lips had come in contact with hers.
"What did you do to me?" finally burst from her lips, the words sounding breathless and fearful as if he had cast some evil spell upon her.
Theiryk froze as if caught in a hunter's snare and he stared at Navarre amidst washing his chest. He sat crouched on the ground, thinking over a proper response when at last the words came to him. "I-I....I'm sorry. I did not mean to startle you. I cannot say what came over me. I shouldn't have, it was an invasion of your space. It...it won't happen again."
"But," she protested, going so far as to place a hand on his shoulder and grip it somewhat desperately. "But, what was it? What you did...what...?" Her face showed all her conflicted and fearful emotions.
A shaky breath was inhaled as she allowed her hand to fall back away. "Is there anything else you can do to make me feel..." Navarre shook her head in frustration at realizing she did not know a single word to describe what she was feeling.
Theiryk's eyes searched hers, trying to understand her distress. "It was..." he began with hesitation. "Called a kiss. When lips meet, even for a brief moment, it's a kiss. It can mean...many things... I'm not certain what I meant when I did it. I don't know what it is you are feeling I'm afraid. Besides your despair that is."
Her lips pursed tightly as she struggled to comprehend without mentally falling to pieces under the stress of everything that was going on for her. She wanted to scream and kick his wash buckets away from in frustration or run and hide like a frightened child. The strain of past events combined with their plans for the future and a glimmer of hope for a new life was taking its toll upon her fiercely and heavily.
Navarre was stopped from doing either though by the stumbling and hung-over arrival of Kreios. The man's movements while slow were incredibly loud, giving the Avariel enough time to compose herself. His presence though was a soothing balm to her jangled nerves. Kreios gently albeit placed a hand on her shoulder, smiling as she softly mewled and leaned her cheek into him as her eyes fluttered shut in bliss.
"Good pet," he crooned. "Already starting your chores I see." In a fatherly fashion, he fondly pet her hair, further soothing her. "Run along and bring me some tonic, pet. I'll finish your chores this time," he bade her softly, prompting Navarre to skip off to his personal cabin on wheels in a show of obedience.
With his hands behind his back, Kreios surveyed the slave with a toothy smile that lit up his entire face. "She's rather sweet, ain't she? Such an eager little bird ready to please. Goes to show what one can do when they are given the opportunity to mold and reshape a fledgling, doesn't it, Slave?"
Theiryk had hoped Kreios was drunk enough from last night to give him a few hours reprieve. But his stomach sank low when alas that was not to be. And when he saw her expression at his presence, his gut sank even lower. It was typical. The pet would run at every behest of the Master; how could she not? She'd never known a life without him...
Theiryk wanted to spit, wondering if she wouldn't just fess up to their conspiracy at any moment and his gut twisted around as he peered up at Kreios. "What's the matter, Slave? Cat got your tongue?"
Theiryk shook his head fiercely. "No. Master," the words were painfully wrenched from him and he felt like he wanted to puke. "What does Master need this morning, Master?"
Kreios ignored the question as he continued to look over his newest acquisition. Perhaps it was being hung-over or maybe he was still a bit drunk but he was certainly in the talking mood. So while Navarre was still away searching for tonic in his cluttered room on wheels, the master of the caravan began to try and goad Theiryk but continually talking poorly of his pet.
"You know sometimes I wonder how she would like if I hadn't have clipped her wings, my little bird. She certainly looks like a freak and I couldna had her flappin' about as she pleased but, I'm sure there are some who would pay dearly for a nigh' with som'tin' like 'er. Can you imagine it slave, our pretty little birdy all grown up? You know she has no idea. Not a clue," the man boasted, reaching for a discarded bottle from the night before and taking a swig of it before belching.
The remark was quite unexpected and Theiryk blinked at Kreios with an unusual curiosity. Those marks then, on her back, were exactly what he thought they were. Theiryk looked at him then off in the direction Navarre went. Peering back at Kreios, Theiryk wanted to be angry. But now was not the time.
"Why didn't you tell her?" he asked. "I'm sure I understand."
The slaver barked with laughter. "Good one," he commented even has he fought to compose himself. "Tell 'er? Seriously? She's easier to control with what she doesn't know, what she ain't understood. Som'tin' natural to 'er makes 'er a freak. Neat ain't it? Keeps 'er at me side no matter what. She'll ne'er leave me. Never," Kreios repeated pointedly as he glared down at Theiryk.
A nasty shiver flowed down his back, and Theiryk stared back at Kreios. There was no point in arguing with a foolish man, especially as hung-over as he was. There was still a decent chance that he was still drunk from last night. The revelation however, startled the Wild Elf. And to think that Navarre had no idea...
Theiryk did not pursue any further conversation with the "Master" and instead went about preparing chores when the drunk man waved him off. Navarre was due back any moment with that tonic to help Kreios. While the Master wasn't looking, Theiryk scampered off to the wagon and appeared in the door way.
"It's a sign of affection," he said, peering through. "That's what a kiss means. Or, in our, case, perhaps understanding."
Navarre startled as she bobbled the remedies in her hands that she had had to make from scratch for Kreios. Seeing Theiryk there had been the last thing she had been expecting. Her eyes only widened further with what he said, confusion clearly etched into her features.
"Affection," she whispered back softly under her breath as if struggling to understand the meaning of the word. "Understanding...I...see." Navarre pursed her lips and shook her head with a heavy sigh. "We have chores to finish. We should not be missed...not yet," the Avariel added pointedly, silently assuring him she would still follow him away from everything that she could ever remember knowing.
Theiryk nodded to her and watched her go ahead of him, out of the wagon. He paused for a moment, looking around first and eying all of the bottles that lined the odd shelves. Though he'd been in here before he'd never had the opportunity to look around. He couldn't dally, and so he rushed to the shelves and quickly peeked and sniffed as many bottles as he could.
He found one that stung his nostrils and made him want to retch. Thankfully he didn't, but when he returned to his own two feet, it slipped from his hands and spilled a small droplet onto a piece of paper. The paper immediately began to burn a hole in it's middle, the acid eating through it. He scrunched up the paper and disposed of it, sealing the bottle and ensuring it was secure before concealing it in his trousers.
The day would pass into night without an event, one Theiryk was thankful for. It was not in him to show subservience, and it killed him every time he made himself obey an order. They wanted an excuse to beat him, to break him, to burn him. But he would give them no such pleasure.
He sat crouching in front of the fire, scraping the residue off the dishes and one of Kreios' men walked by, kicking a can beside him and it ricocheted and hit him in the face. "Whoops," the man said, snickering. "Looks like I've got to watch where I'm going."
The Avariel hissed from where she had been standing not too far away. In two steps she was at Theiryk's side and used her hand to lift his chin gently. Her thumb soothed part of his cheek that was already beginning to burn red even as she quietly fumed.
"Master will not be pleased to see his prized slave become marred. If you cannot aim better then do not play your games so close to that which does not belong to you," Navarre chided the slaver, even as her gaze continued to remain on the elf beside her.
At last though she released her hold on him and let her attention move elsewhere even as the other man muttered about informing Kreios of her talking back. She knew she was right and if there were consequences she was forced to pay they would be slight. What worried her though was that it was not out of concern for her master's property that had forced her into action but worry over the elf himself. Navarre found she did not like seeing him hurt and while it was a slight injury compared to what she had done in the past, the fact that she even cared at all disturbed her greatly.
The coddling was odd. Theiryk was extremely unaccustomed to being handled with care, like he was a scuffed boot, or a chipped piece of glass. And doing so made his skin tingle. It wasn't entirely unpleasant and he was quiet as he looked up at Navarre when she examined his face. A soft sigh from his nostrils allowed him to visibly relax.
Theiryk resumed his duties, looking at the fire as he worked and didn't want to seem too obvious. "Tonight. Tonight we leave, when everyone is asleep," he whispered. "I cannot stand another day of this. I would rather die."
Her breath halted, frozen in her chest at his words, but Navarre gave no other outward sign that she was disturbed by the news lest she cause a commotion that would draw the others to them. Fear once more raised its ugly head within her, whispering poison in her ears of their failure and the futility of it all. With a blink of an eye though she attempted to cast her doubt aside.
"You may die yet" the Avariel murmured sadly before decisively reaching over to yank him to his feet. "If this is how you will abuse the freedoms we have granted you with then perhaps you should remember your place slave," came her barking growl moments later while she made a show of dragging him towards his cage to throw him in unchained.
At her sudden, quite unexpected, anger, Theiryk yelped falling backwards in her grasp and nearly toppling her over. His lack of food had left him largely deprived of energy. But Theiryk suddenly grew red-faced with anger and pulled back on her, scrambling to his feet and tackling her to the ground. "I'll show you you're place!" he spat, forgetting momentarily their show of discord. He nearly slammed a fist into her face were it not for shin that impacted his ribs that left him winded.
Theiryk rolled off of Navarre and the man that struck him earlier with the can, and before he could put his arms up, the other man was upon him, beating him furiously with blinding strikes. Theiryk's nose and lips grew bloodied. "You rotten piece of worthless shit!" he growled at him and put hands around Theiryk's neck, squeezing hard.
Navarre hissed in surprise at being knocked to the ground. Instinctively she struck out at Theiryk with the same fury she would any other disobedient slave but her blow fell short as she was suddenly left without a target to strike. That did not stop her from rolling to her knees and lunging forward in hopes of intervening in the fight.
"He's mine," she growled possessively while trying to knock the other slaver back, her own back to the elf as she leaned over him and between them.
Theiryk's eyes felt just about ready to pop from his head as the pressure increased around his neck. His strength waned more and more until Navarre knocked the other man off him. He gasped desperately, vision having nearly gone black.
"He's swine! And a waste of space as far as I'm concerned," he spat to the Boss' pet. He hated that favoritism. "Too much effort to keep that bastard down! Kill him and sell him for parts!"
Theiryk was still in a daze on the ground, but was quickly gaining his senses. He looked up at the man that tried to kill him and remembered the vial of acid in the hem of his trousers.
"Some buyers favor the wild spirit!" Navarre shot back in Theiryk's defense as she tried to move further between the two until she was right in the other slaver's face. "It is not your choice to decide his fate! Only Master can decide! Unless you want to pay the cost of his hide then I suggest you find a way to hide the damage you've already inflicted Rogns," the Avariel hissed venomously, even as she watched the other man's eyes flash moments before he moved to swing at her.
Theiryk always fought like an animal, such was the way of the wild. To see the two slaves fight set off something primal in Theiryk, especially when the other man she had called Rogns took a swing at her. His blood was set aflame and he burst to his feet. He screamed as he rushed at the man and tackled him to the ground and proceeded to smash his fists into his face with animal savagery. Rogns had little time to cry out in the speed of the assault.
"You hit her and I'll kill you!" Theiryk cried out. And took the bottle of acid from his belt and splashed some of it onto his face. Rogns screamed then, but by then Theiryk was off him and snatched Navarre by the arm. "Now!"
'Now?' Navarre's slow mind tried to comprehend as it recovered from the shock of seeing Theiryk fight so savagely in her defense. No one had ever fought for her, only ever against her. It was disembodying experience to say the least to be on the outside of it for once.
But, it was the elf's incessant tugging that was dragging her away from the familiarity of "home" that finally brought her back to her senses. She moved to follow readily when the barking voice of her master had her faltering slightly mid-step.
With her arm still clutched within Theiryk's grip, the Avariel cast tortured look back over her shoulder at the man who had been both captor and father to her in a cruelly inhuman way. However, despite the words he shot in their direction and the look of pure hatred and loathing he wore, Navarre found herself no longer willing to be quelled by it.
A new burst of speed sent her racing ahead with the other slave as she fled. Her heart raced with fear, fear of being caught, fear of not being caught. The unknown scared her far more than her known fate at Kreios' hands yet the fires she had seen in Theiryk's eyes and the confusion he constantly instilled within her was enough to drive her onwards away from the foolish humans who dared ensnare innocents to sake twisted greed.
Theiryk pulled her along, yet she moved as if from a dream world. But their work was not done yet. He could not leave without his weapon, his gear and went to where he saw it stored away, where Kreios had held his treasures. He could not waste time equipping them and simply grabbed onto Navarre once more and flew for the trees.
Navarre growled as Theiryk dallied in her eyes and used the returning grip upon her to yank him further ahead towards the fast-approaching treeline. Fear-fueled adrenaline was quickly melting into anger as they ran. She was angry that he did not have the patience to wait, to follow through with what they had planned, for having forced her hand and made her openly run and defy Kreios in such a way that would ensure she could never return, and worst of all for forcing her to leave behind the most precious gift she had ever earned, her sword.
Once they broke through the treeline though and were deep enough that they could not been from the campsite though, she gave a yank on Theiryk's arm in an attempt to pull him behind a tree so the foolish humans could pass them by thinking they had continued running ahead. "They will not think to look so close to home," she hissed in his ear barely above a butterfly's whisper. "Run if you be so foolish but remember who knows them best," Navarre added as a hasty reminder.
Theiryk had been foolish, and he had no mind in that moment to consider how foolish he had been. He didn't have to time to think, he would have died being kept trapped a slave. At the time, it was now or never! He hadn't considered the consequencesfor her, or what that spelled for himself. For all he knew at the time, it appeared he kidnapped Kreios' prized slave and he would not relent until they were captured and Theiryk skinned and turned into boots.
"What!?" he hissed back. Oh he heard her, but the throbbing in his ears made little sense of it. "Right. Sorry.. Oh..gods. What have I done...? Gods..." He had to catch his breath, leaning tiredly against the tree. "To the boughs," he whispered. "We'll be safe up there."
The Avariel growled and rolled her eyes in displeasure before allowing them to dart about to ensure no one was close by. "Keep quiet and get climbing," she hissed once more in his ear before shoving him aside.
She still had no love of trees with her limited experience in them. A few lessons from Theiryk were hardly enough to instill deep confidence in them. Nevertheless she too hurried to swing herself up into the branches even if she did cling a little too tightly and tensely to them and stayed a bit too firmly glued to the trunk along the way up. In her mind though she cursed the elf who may or may not have been following her. His ideas of escape might have once sounded so convincing but now she wanted nothing more than to throttle him.
Whether Navarre knew it or not, Theiryk was being quiet and her slow climbing wasn't helping matters. But he couldn't afford to make any further noise, and so he waited for her to scale the tree. After several heartbeats - rushed heartbeats at that - he reached the top and gestured to her to keep climbing.
They could still meander through the forest through the tree tops, where branches intersected one another, and allowed passage into another.
She froze as she looked up at him in a mixture of distress and dissatisfaction. Navarre wanted absolutely nothing to do with moving further away from her most prized possession and recognized that the further they moved from harm the more likely they were to get caught. Staying close to home would be the last place they would be expected to remain. The Avariel shook her head vehemently from side to side, her expression fierce as she denied Theiryk what he desired of her.
Theiryk glared at her wide-eyed and motioned to the tree again as if wondering just what the hell it was she was waiting for.
Navarre shook her head again more firmly with an even darker expression of displeasure. To prove her point she sat down the branch where she was perched, effectively wrapping her legs and arms around it to secure herself in place. "We stay," she silently mouthed to him, trying to further get her point across. In her mind she could not understand what part of staying close he could not comprehend.
Theiryk knew she was right. And that made him hate her all the more for it. She had her point and with the silence beneath them surmounting, it was either safe to move or their pursuers were lying in wait, searching for any sign of them. They would not expect them to remain within close proximity. Theiryk waited where he sat by the bough and leaned his head back against the tree.
He said nothing, only that his anxiety did not let him sleep. However, days of restlessness and lack of any nourishing food had left his body feeling empty and drained. He could not stay awake for long, and soon his eyelids slooped closed and he fell into a light sleep.
She waited quietly, counting her breaths until Theiryk finally fell asleep. Even after he had she continued to keep still and silent in hopes that he would fall into a deeper sleep before she could enact her plan.
With a deep breath to steady herself, Navarre allowed herself to slide off the branch she had been resting on and quietly swing from branch to branch down the tree to the ground. Darting eyes scanned the darkness to ensure that no humans were lurking about before she took off at a dead-run back towards camp. She was going to get her sword if it killed her and nothing and no one was going to stop her. The Avariel only hoped she could manage to make it back before Theiryk realized she had even left.
Theiryk heard a creak in the wood of the tree. And he jerked awake. Holding his breath, Theiryk opened his eyes to the darkness. "Navarre. It is time to move," he whispered. But he heard no response and through the dark he saw that he was alone. "...Navarre..." He mouthed the word then and felt the hackles on the back of his neck grow.
He gripped the branch tightly. He knew it! He knew that's why she wanted to stay close by! He growled angrily at his foolishness, at his stupidity and stripped himself of that slave's gear, and put on his own familiar attire, and re-equipped his weapons. He was not going to wait for her to come back with a group to pull him down and take him once more. He'd rather die.
Navarre ran as fast as she could, faster than she had ever run before until she was sure she was all but flying. It would have even been a thrilling feeling if she was not in such a rush to get back to Theiryk. She had managed to reacquire her sword without getting caught in the act but her flight from the camp a second time had been noted by the last person she wanted seeing her, Kreios.
The evil man had remained behind while he had sent the rest of his men out to find the errant pair. Kreios had managed to hit her hard enough to draw blood and make her head spin in surprise before she had been able to flee and the cruel laughter she had heard behind her only made her that much more sure that he was still slowly stalking her in the night.
She was frightened and hurting, having tripped on roots and branches in the dark in her reckless flight. Navarre had enough mind to loop in a way that would keep her from getting caught before she climbed a new tree, something her master did not yet know she was capable of, before she was slowly and nervously making her way back to Theiryk through the upper branches of the trees. The Avariel prayed she would get to him before he woke. He needed the sleep and she could do without another argument. Her head was pulsing with the pain of being struck and she wanted nothing more than to sleep.
When she returned, Theiryk was lying against the bow still, as if asleep when he felt that stirring in the wind. The eye opposite her peeked open and peered in her direction, view blocked by the bridge of his nose. She was careful in her approach, and he could tell she had learned something from his gait.
He kept still when she was finally level with him. He remained as if dead until she was close enough to him. "Where were you?" he whispered lightly, so that the words remained in her ear only and did not carry on the wind.
Reflexively her blade was brought up between them as if expecting him to strike her at moment given she had thought him asleep when she had approached. The gesture however served as an unspoken statement of what she had done in her absence. "Mine," she informed him just as quietly as her eyes scanned the ground below for any signs of the humans that still sought them. She feared being found especially after having seen the expression on Kreios' face as she fled as well as his haunting laughter ringing in her ears.
It was a pointed motion and Theiryk set his eyes like daggers on her. He gave a small grunt and shoved the blade away from him and looked at the ground below, seeing Kreios wandering around the tree beneath them. He shot Navarre another glare.
"Traitor..." he breathed.
Navarre looked at him as if his accusation had been a direct slap to the face. Her eyes stared at him in shock and pain as blood trickled down her face still from the blow and her frantic falls in the dark. Even as her blade remained limply lowered in her hand, she shook her head in saddened negation.
"Navaaaaareeeeeeee," Kreios' voice all but sang on the wind, forcing bile into her throat and her eyes to slam fearfully shut. "I know you can hear me!" he sing-songed further. "Come out, come out, wherever you are my little songbird. You have been very naughty."
At the sing-song voice Kreios, Theiryk lunged forward and covered Navarre's mouth with an angry hand. "Not. A. Word," he mouthed and turned his head so that he could look down at the man below. He narrowed his eyes. Theiryk inhaled slowly and when he opened his mouth and projected his voice outward, mimicking a startled sound that might com from Navarre and echoed onto the ground below.
Kreios turned his head toward where he heard the noise. "Navarre!" And bolted off in that direction. "You can't hide from me! You're mine!"
Theiryk waited until he disappeared before pulling the Avariel by the arm and leaping by wind to the next tree.
She flinched, inhaling sharply in fright at his sudden approach but remained otherwise still or silent. Her eyes only widened however at hearing her own voice as if it were stolen by the wind. Even when Kreios fled in the opposite direction and Theiryk was dragging her about her free hand clutched her throat in shock as if expecting her voice to be gone forever. Navarre looked to the elf with her with accusing eyes while rushing through the trees, a bit unsteady but as close to keeping up with him as she could. They could have their arguments later but for now they needed to get as far away from a group she had called home as they could.
There was no stopping for as long as Theiryk could climbe. He did not risk riding the wind, not so close in proximity to Kreios' camp. When a few miles were put between them, Theiryk stopped in the branches of a great oak, pulling himself up to the top boigh to get a better view.
He could see the dim light of morning gloom, but it was still hours before dawn. Theiryk looked down toward Navarre, blood still burning and he looked at her weapon. Dropping down to her again, he gazed at her grimly. "You are a fool," he hissed.
His words were like salt in her wounds. She found her hand dropping away from her throat as she stood, balancing precariously to growl back at him, surprised when her own voice echoed from her throat.
"As if you are any better! Or have you forgotten we had an agreement? It is all fine and well when you take your things before dashing carelessly off but the one thing I may call my own that has both use and value I must abandon because patience escapes you! You forced my hand into giving up everything I am, I will not let you take this from me too elf," Navarre spat back at him.
"You could have been killed!" he hissed back, the change in his tone audible, something that showed concern. He swallowed hard on a dry throat. "He would've hurt you..bad, had you been caught. And he may find us still! Maybe I could not wait any longer, but you....you betrayed me before. You would do it again, would you not?"
Theiryk looked at her sword and then back to her. "Why is that so precious to you?"
Navarre found herself shrugging one shoulder as her head looked off to the side. She was too shocked by his words and tone to wish to answer. It boggled her that he would feel any form of concern for her. She had faced worse anger from Kreios. If she died it should make no difference to the elf; Theiryk was free.
It angered her and cut her in ways she did not understand that he did not trust her. Navarre could not understand why she even cared and was filled with such guilt and shame but he had managed to reduce her into those feelings quite easily with so few words. He demanded her complete trust and yet placed none in her.
Mention of her sword though had her hand twitching slightly. While the blade remained lowered it bounced up slightly as if to defend her before she relaxed once more. She did not know how to express all the things it represented to her. It was pride and joy and sorrow and pain. It was earned and it was a birthright. While Navarre did not know it was a blade of her people. To her though it was a gift from her master for doing well. Though she had abandoned Kreios his gift was hers and could never be taken from her.
"Mas-" she halted in her speech, swallowing the title as if it were sand and shook her head. "It was a gift."
"And you treasure it," he said plainly. Yet there was no biting tone in his voice or so he hoped. He nodded to her in understanding, though he might've never received anything good from his own master at the time. "It is a good blade. Very strong. Sturdy."
He nodded again. It was as close as he could muster to an apology and he met her eyes slowly, uncertain what more to say.
She nodded back in return before relaxing her stance enough to lower herself into a sitting position on the branch, her blade replaced at her side once more. "Will he find us?" Navarre asked at last, breaking the silence with a voice that sounded far younger than she had intended. She still could not look at Theiryk but at least she was willing to speak to him.
Theiryk met her face, or tried to and he sighed gently out of his nostrils. "I hope not," he said with a nod. "But we have to keep moving. The trees will protect us. Wild Elves are not easily seen unless they want to be. How...how do you feel about all this?"
Again she shrugged, moving once more towards him to signal her readiness. "We should move again then," Navarre said, refusing to answer his question. "He may not realize I can climb but eventually he will remember you can."
"Let's go," Theiryk nodded to her and held his hand out. "We can ride the wind if you want."
Navarre took his hand with more confidence than she had in the past. "If it is your wish," she replied softly feeling confusion and loss deep within her breast. She felt as if there was nowhere left in this world where she could run. Without a home she was nothing. There was nothing for her to hold onto in the end it seemed. The memory of all but flying through the air did not even peak her interest as it should have. What good was the idea of freedom to her when all she felt was even more caged in than before.
They moved with the gusts and the wind swirled beneath their feet, carrying them ever onward, further away from the life that Navarre knew. For Theiryk, he didn't know what he was looking for, what he should be running toward. Without destination, hewas as aimless as the wind they rode. And it would only increase the chances of being found. They needed a haven, a place of respite.
Theiryk noticed the change in Navarre's demeanor and when at last he stopped, in a tree that he'd stores some supplies in, he turned to her. He searched her face for a long moment and could only guess what was on her mind. He moved slowly, cautiously and was quite wary of her sword. But before long, he slipped her into an embrace and murmured. "I...am sorry."
The flight did her some good though it was a bittersweet happiness for the moment they stopped, she was overwhelmed with by her own emotions worse than before they had left. She was lost in her own thoughts though that she did not even notice the looks she was given nor his approach until suddenly Navarre found herself wrapped close within his embrace.
At first she froze, terrified of pain or worse, having no memory of ever being held in such a way. It felt like another cage to her, another dark box to lose herself in, cramped in the dark. The Avariel tore herself away from him, her breath coming quietly but fast as she fought to keep control of herself.
"What have I done to earn such a punishment?" she queried him quietly, her features reflecting her guarded pain as if fearing him to exact further punishment upon her. "That you would apologize for it even as you administer it?"
Theiryk stood straight, gazing in bewilderment at her response. It was quite unexpected, but really it should have been. She wasn't used to this sort of thing, this idea and be should have known that. "No, that was not meant as punishment," he said gently, wringing his hands in thought.
He tried to find the right words and looked up at her with softened eyes.
"It was an embrace. The physical action is often meant to comfort another, or as a gesture of understanding. I did not mean it as punishment. Though to you, it seemed to be just that. I meant it as a means to solidify my apology at my harsh words to you earlier."
She cocked her head at him in a characteristic bird-like fashion as if viewing him from the side would make her understand him better. Unfortunately it did not. "Another of your gestures of understanding," Navarre commented with a frown.
It made her wonder how being caged could bring someone comfort yet she did not voice her opinion, already imaging how he would throw the words back in her face. After all she too had been a slave even if she was more pampered pet than anything else. Navarre had taken great comfort in the gilded cage Kreios had kept her in, she supposed the same could be said for others.
"Your...apology is unnecessary," she told him at last, not knowing what else to say. No one had ever apologized to her before either. She did not feel worthy of it. Whatever had been given to her had always been what she deserved or so she had been told and led to believe. Apologies were a luxury she had never been granted.
"Oh but it is. How can you ever consider yourself a person if no one treats you as such?" Theiryk stepped in closer to her. "Some people find comfort in the proximity of another body. The feel of someone carrying them, when they're feel they don't have the strength to carry themselves."
"And are you such a person?" she countered instead. Navarre did not believe for a moment that he was. How could he be when Theiryk had always appeared to be completely self-sufficient and closed off from the world in the little time she knew him. But then again perhaps she did not truly know him after all. It had only be a few days.
She shook her head. "I have not needed it before why would I now? Am I not strong enough for you because of my years living at another's beck and call has weakened me in your eyes? I am strong, Theiryk. Do not let yourself believe I am anything but just because I do not know the world as you know it," she hissed defensively.
Theiryk frowned, knowing this was quickly going nowhere. "Right. Foolish of me to think of such a thing," he nodded and pursing his lips in thought. He wasn't going to argue the mattet to her. He was sleepy and exhausted from everything. And he wondered if somewhere in the trees his father ever thought of him, if his clan still remained.
He climbed high onto a bough and sat against the trunk, looking up to the stars above.
She stared after him in confusion. "What are you doing now? You're not leaving are you?" Worry tainted her tone more than she had meant to before she saw him seat himself. "Are we not continuing onward? I thought you wanted us to...to keep running."
Theiryk peered down at her from the bough. "I am...tired," he said gently. "I just want to rest."
Her head lowered in shame at her own stupidity as she murmured a soft "oh." She wrapped her arms about herself feeling utterly lost once more. "Should I...should I keep watch?"
'Is there something useful I can do,' Navarre wished to ask instead, but her pride would not allow her such a luxury.
"You may do as you wish," he replied despondently. He gazed down at her and watched her for a moment, studying how she moved.
Navarre firmly nodded her head, determined to be useful and prove she was not weak. Carefully she lowered herself down to balance on the branch she had been standing on and set her eyes towards the ground and into the distance. She was oblivious to her companion's perusal of her person as she struggled to keep distracting thoughts from her mind and instead focus on the task she had set to herself.
There was tension now, where there once had been camaraderie - or even understanding and Theiryk was beginning to doubt further dragging her along in this endeavor. Where would she go? She did not trust him, and he doubted his own trust in her. What had he done? Did he really sincerely believe that he'd done the right thing? Hadn't it all been for his own selfish reasons.
He wanted to be free. He'd rather die than be a slave. And yet this existence yielded little. It was the choice, he knew, the choice that kept him going. He had the choice out here to do as he pleased, without regard to another, without having to ask permission to eat, to breath, to urinate. And he had plucked Navarre from the only life she knew.
He had convinced her that it was wrong... And it was...but for all her own understanding? Was this kind of life any better? Did she even fathom the differences between the liberty of choice and living at the whim of another? Had he done her nothing more than an injustice? Theiryk did not ponder these things for long. He soon fell asleep.
Unbeknownst to them both, Navarre's thoughts followed a similar line as she wondered on how quickly her life was changing for a frightening unknown. Whether she wished to admit it or not, Theiryk was her only hope, her only lifeline in the chaos her life had begun and she was even more afraid of losing him than she was of leaving Kreios.
If she lost Theiryk, if he abandoned her she would not survive and she knew it. She was raised a pampered slave, she only knew how to serve and not how to fend for herself. It was true she knew how to wield a blade, how to lie, to cheat, to trick others into believing what she wanted but she did not know how to live. According to the elf she did not even know right from wrong. She was a babe in a woman's body and completely lost in a world not of her making.
As determined she had been to keep awake through the night though she eventually nodded off herself, joining Theiryk in the world of dreams without her even realizing it.
Theiryk awoke with the sound of a crunching leaves below and turned to look down. He saw a mother bear and her cubs, two in tow, sniffing around.
He glanced over to see Navarre, who had fallen asleep. So much for keeping watch. He actually sniffed a soft laugh and climbed down to her level. He poked her shoulder and pointed to the foraging family below. "Look," he murmured. "Been a long time since I've seen bears around these parts."
Navarre flinched violently at the touch that awoke her and was already in motion to slap her assailant when she realized that it was Theiryk. She flushed in embarrassment but kept her face otherwise neutral as he pointed out something of interest below.
"Their fur makes for good blankets," she commented blandly. "Master Kreios had many of them in his bed for the winter. They were soft." Navarre shrugged not understanding things from the elf's point of view. Below she saw a resource she had often used. She did not see the beauty of an animal she had once hunted herself. It was yet another thing Theiryk would have to try and teach her if he could.
"No, no," Theiryk whispered again, smiling at the bears. "Perhaps in winter when the pelts are needed, but you don't destroy a family like this. In a way those cubs make me think of you. Bold and yet everything is new as you venture into it. They're young and have much to learn. But if there's anything one learns in life it's that you never stop learning. Your discoveries will be infinite, at times frightening, and you quickly realized how much smaller you are in comparison to the world you thought you knew so well."
"You really think that of me?" she asked in poorly-concealed awe. Her eyes gazed intensely at his face as if to detect a lie that she would not find. "That I'm a helpless little cub?" Navarre shook her head and sighed while turning back to look at the bears even as the young ones attempted to climb the nearby trees.
"Did you know that the mothers abandon their young, chase them up a tree and leave them to live or die without care?" She paused to take a breath before harshly continuing. "My parents did it, abandoned me. Eventually he may as well. And you...will you cast me aside too when you bore of me, when I am no longer a project of redemption or a tool of escape?"
"No, no," Theiryk muttered. "Not helpless. And certainly not little. I've seen you in action." He chuckled and looked at her more seriously. "I have taken you from the only life you know. I...apologize. It was a rash action. I considered only my own feelings and well-being at the time. I haven't traveled with another in such a long time. I am just used to being alone."
Theiryk in truth, didn't know what he was going to do with her. He had no plans either which way.
"How about this? You...travel with me as long as you wish, until you decide you wish to go."
She let out a snort and a shrug that spoke volumes. She was not nearly as nonchalant about his offer as she tried to let on. Navarre cared and for the moment at least his words eased some of the ache within her chest. It was not enough, she did not even know if it ever would be. But for now his assurance was enough to ease her worried mind.
"We should go," she finally declared. "Wouldn't want them thinking you're dinner after all."
"Oh, they're not even paying attention to us," Theiryk said with a small smile. He held out his hand to Navarre, palm open. "So what do you say? Companions then? This would be called a handshake. It involves touching."
Navarre offered him an apathetic look even as she easily put forth her own hand and gave his a firm shake before letting go. "I do happen to know what a handshake is. I am not completely incompetent despite whatever you may think of me. I think the better question now that we will be traveling together is where will we be going? We cannot stay living in a tree forever I assume." She cocked her head to the side slightly as she asked her question, one brow tilting up slightly as she awaited his reply.
Theiryk laughed. "Well, I can. I don't know how comfortable you would be though. I think you more accustomed to life below. I was born in the trees. Here, this is my home." He gestured all around him. "But I guess I don't really have a home anymore."
He left it at that and gestured her to move along then. He didn't know where they were going to go just yet. He wondered if his father would evem care about him. If he ever wondered what became of his son. "We just move on. When I sense the territory right, we might able to find the rest of the tribe."
"Tribe? Your people? Are they close?" Her mind was already spinning with thoughts of the same mentality she had been raised under. Theiryk was a wild elf, one of the rarest races in existence. If his people were close and her master was equally close then there was the potential for things to go very badly for one of the two groups.
"Would we even be welcome there?" Navarre crossed her arms over her chest defensively as if she felt bored with the conversation when in truth she was just trying to hold herself together in the face of a possible rejection. 'Would I?'
"Close? No. Many winds away. Many moons," Theiryk spoke as he concentrated, leaping to the next tree over from the lower branches. He waited her to make the jump.
"I didn't say my tribe. I said the tribe. Whichever one that happens to be at the time. And as for being welcome, no probably not. In either case."
With only a minor bit of hesitation, she made the jump, feeling her own heart skip a beat as first she flew then she fell. Her landing was not nearly as graceful as his but she made it nonetheless. "Then why go? Why would strangers even bother to help? If they have no compassion for their own kind and would so readily abandon them then what makes you believe elves would take us in? Not even humans would accept us." She cast a knowing look his way before looking away. "We're too broken."
Theiryk reached out to steady her as she made the landing, holding his arms out. "Because where else can we go? I honestly can't say if we'll be welcome. I have...been away a long time. But it's a risk I'm willing to take. We're not so very broken. Just...tarnished I think."
He gave a smirk and started to move again. This time more quickly. They would be heading deep into rival territory. And a Wild Elf never made themselves seen unless they wanted to. Better to stay on the move.
"Tarnished?" she repeated, feeling a bit better for his jest and perhaps even somewhat cocky. "Maybe you old man. How old are you anyway? A thousand?" Laughter danced in her tone and her eyes as she hurried to try and keep step with him, her eyes glued to the branches as she contemplated her next steps with care. The ability to move through the trees became easier as she went but it would still be some time before she could move as freely as her companion did.
Theiryk laughed. She wasn't completely wrong about that aspect. Many always suspected elves to be old simply because they were elves. And most of them were, to keep to the stereotype true. Theiryk glanced behind him but a moment. "Thirty-four," he answered. "How bout yourself?"
Navarre's brows tried to catch her hairline in her surprise. "So young and yet you still managed to be so slow. It is a wonder you were not caught sooner," she declared partially in jest. "I myself, am twenty-nine springs. Does it surprise you?"
"You speak of slow, yet you are the one behind me!" he barked back and cackled as he moved through the trees with ease. He barely even touched them it seemed as he flowed along each branch. "Twenty nine and a tree frog has more agility than you."
"I was under the impression that you were leading. Forgive my mistake, it shall happen again," she quipped back with a roll of her eyes that caused her balance to waver slightly before she was able to attempt to pick up her speed in order to not fall behind. "Besides since when do frogs climb tries? How childish do you really think me?"
That's when Theiryk stopped and peered up at her. He just smiled. "That just goes to show what you know," he laughed suddenly when a loud ribbit would erupt in Navarres ear as a tree frog landed on her head.
Navarre twitched, her eyes widening for a moment before she gently plucked the frog from her head and glared at the elf across from her. "You did that on purpose, admit it! Why would frogs honestly live in trees? It's like asking a bird to give up its wings to pretend to be human. You're awful teasing me so."
She sighed and shook her head trying to move on ahead. However she only made it three steps further before her arms pinwheeled and she was latching onto a trunk to steady herself. Navarre could already imagine the laughter Theiryk was surely having at her expense.
Theiryk shifted forward to help steady her, holding her arm and kneeling beside her. "You okay?" He was smiling, but his enjoyment wouldn't really last if she fell out of a large tree and broke her neck. He instead just leaned in and kissed her cheek. "No, I just wanted a giggle. And you need a little teasing. But I don't want you to die."
She nodded curtly, her lips pressed into a fine line even as her cheeks flushed. Navarre could not say however if it was from her embarrassment at nearly slipping out of the tree or from the fact that Theiryk had once again given her a kiss. It surprised her that he seemed to want to offer her comfort all the time with his embraces and kisses. Part of her even wondered if it was normal or just because he pity her, the poor little broken Avariel.
"Trees are not an Avariel's friend I can tell you that much," she muttered under her breath. "What are we going to do about food and supplies?" her voice sounded louder now as Navarre straightened and once more attempted to navigate the bouncing boughs.
Theiryk looked around. She was right. They had nothing to consider as supplies. And they couldn't simply live on air. Well, he could. She'd probably complain. He glanced back, offering a grin before turning back around and sitting on a bough, folding his legs underneath him. He pointed out to the tree across.
"There. Fresh fruit. If you sniff really deep, you can smell those fresh nectarines. But we've gotta be careful. Rival clans."
Navarre eyed him skeptically while taking a deep inhale. She did smell the syrupy sweetness of the fruit but the idea of traveling into claimed territory left her feeling anxious. Theiryk had already shown her once what it was like to be found out as as a slaver. She did not relish relieving the experience, especially given her new adversaries would not be humans. After all if her companion was anything to go by, elves were particularly vindictive towards those that followed her way of living.
"Should we really be doing this though," she found herself whispering a bit more apprehensively than she had meant to.
Perhaps it was not an ideal path, but it was the closest path to where they needed to go. And if they were careful, could be one made with ease.
"Doing what? Going through rival territory? Should you have captured and decided the fate of many slaves?" he asked pointedly. "Probably not, but that was all you knew then, and this is the quickest route to where we need to go. Going around would add many more days with your master in pursuit of us. I think this is best. You don't feel the same?"
"Those are our only options?" she asked skeptically. "He'll pursue us either way. You're not even concerned about them though? They're much keener than him and his. I'd think they're the bigger threat, especially since we're on their lands, making it their advantage."
Navarre shook her head, breathing sharply through her nostrils. "This is not my element. You may have taught me in a day but I'm still not-" she pursed her lips, cutting herself off. She would not admit to weakness. "You are not alone. I would prefer not to be seen as an expendable addition."
With her tone Theiryk knew they weren't much of a pair of options. But with the other clans in this section of forest, he at least knew what he was getting into. If they moved swiftly enough, they might even get through undetected. And if not, Theiryk was certain they could outrun them. He hoped.
At her last words, they struck a chord within him and he turned to Navarre, putting a hand on her shoulder. "You're not expendable. We're in this together remember?" he said. He gave her a firm nod, squeezing her shoulder a moment before motioning her to move on with them.
"Stay with me. Don't be afraid of the trees. Trust them and they will carry you. You are not Wild Elf, but it doesn't matter. Stay with me, keep moving, and you will not fall." He paused only long enough to look back at her, making sure she understood before moving swifter through the boughs. He took a running leap across from one tree to another. It was a long jump, and he landed with ease, and he listened long enough to hear if she landed.
Navarre snorted lightly, rolling her eyes at him, though her heart uncharacteristically skipped a beat at his gentle touch. Her shoulder felt his absence greatly as if his touch had poured molten fire upon her and then left her out to cool. 'Trust the tress, aye stupidity that will surely get me killed! What am I getting myself into?'
She followed after him a few heartbeats later, hesitating only slightly before terrifyingly making the leap that caused her heart to plummet to her stomach and her eyes to shutter closed in anticipation of a bone-shattering fall to the ground below. Instead much to her surprise, her feet alighted on a branch not far from Theiryk. Her eyes snapped open even as she momentarily struggled to keep her balance before hurrying to keep up with him. Her learning was slow but she was starting to get the hang of things even if her heart threatened to give out with each move she made.
There was a disturbance on the wind, one that made one of Theiryk's tattered ears flick in anticipation. His stomach chilled and he jerked just enough see something move in the trees aside from them. "Navarre," he whispered. "Run. RUN!" And with that he took off into leaps and bounds, rolling over one branch, landing onto another and vaulting off of it in one fell motion.
He could only strain to hear if the Avariel was keeping up with him, and hope that she was. She would have to learn to move quickly with the necessity of survival. There was a whopping cry that pierced the air, it momentarily shattering the silence. Theiryk knew they had been spotted by a patrol, and could only hope their feet could carry them faster than their predators.
Used to orders in such an authoritative tone from working under her Master's command all her life, Navarre immediately flowed into movement before she had even mentally processed what was going on. Her feet flew as best as they could over the branches. She was not nearly as fast as her companion but she made up for the stumbles and slips with grappling hands and stumbling rolls.
It was not long though before she heard a familiar whistling pass by her ear before making a solid thud in the path in front of her. Navarre was past the object before she could see for herself what it was yet it was only the first in many that started to now fly towards them.
She put on more speed while trying to ignore the burn beginning to already claim her weary muscles. There was so much for her to try and concentrate on between watching where she was running and dodging the arrows coming from both behind them and beside them. Theiryk was getting ahead of her but was still within her sightline, so she dared not call out to him for fear that he would falter and be injured, leaving her alone in a situation she very much could have done without.
Her slips, stumbles, and lack of speed could very well be the death of them both. Despite all they'd been through, Theiryk had every reason to leave her behind, to let her fall and carry on with his own life. And he would likely have been inclined to do so had he not promised to help her find her way. And that included, sadly, in keeping her alive.
Theiryk paused in only for a moment, turning abruptly to see her progress. As she kept her eyes ahead, there was another pursuing close behind her. "Navarre!" he cried out, as the Wild Elf swung across from branches above, leading with a knee as if to pounce on her.
Theiryk pulled the bow from his back, knocked an arrow and when he was within range, let it fly. He held his breath, hoping he struck true. A hope that was short lived when an enemy arrow flew with rage, striking him deep beneath his right arm, gouged into his ribs.
She did her best not to falter, to put on more speed even at his harsh shout of her name. Navarre could only speculate how close her pursuer was there but she had no doubt that he was there and most likely closing in on her fast. This was not her territory or her element. Trees were no place for a grounded Avariel, especially not one who had been raised so far away from her people.
Ahead of her several events happened one right after the other in rapid succession. Theiryk notched his bow, letting the air fly. Navarre could feel it zing past her, making a heavy thud as it made impact with flesh. A piercing scream sounded behind her even as she watched another arrow strike true, landing solidly in her Elven companion's side.
She threw herself the distance, leaping over several branches to try and reach him as a fierce warrior cry burst forth from her lips. It was then that she noticed just how close to surrounded they were. All around them in the boughs above and below, notched arrows met her gaze, poised to fire or in the process of firing towards the trespassing pair.
"Can you move?" she fervently asked, already making haste to loop one of his arms over her shoulders to assist him. "We'll remove it later, there's no time. Can you use the wind, Theiryk?"
The pain had not arrived right away. But the mere shock of being struck had startled Theiryk enough to scream. He had faltered and lost his balance and when Navarre arrived in time to help him, he hadn't the will to stand. He was brimming with a primal fear, the kind that cornered animals felt. Were it not for her voice, he might have panicked and struck out at her. But seeing her gave him a small hope, a candleflame will to live.
Theiryk staggered to his feet, gripping her in desperation for the arrow was deep and he wanted to stand. He forced himself up onto powerful legs. "I can," he hissed, holding back the pain that was not approaching. The arrow was likely laced with something. Rival clans such as these would hold no bar as to the means in which they would protect their territory. But escape was their only option. He nodded to her, but his head was heavy. "They can use the wind too. Counter me."
He kept moving, as more arrows flew in their wake, and he proceeded to leap from the base of a branch, swirling the wind beneath his feet, carrying both he and Navarre to the next one over, even farther away. But the gust wavered, and instead a wall of air slammed hard against the pair, knocking them against the trunk of the tree and staggering Theiryk at the center of the branches.
He blinked, dazed now. And a shadow stood before him, another Wild Elf, painted in shaman's paint, feathers braided into his hair. He took the staff from his hands and slammed it into Theiryk's head, blacking his vision.
Navarre did her best to support his weight, her eyes continually darting about in hopes of keeping enough awareness of the trouble they were in so as to protect them both. It was for naught though as an invisible force slammed into them, forcing them painfully into the rough bark of a tree trunk. Her head collided with stunning thud that made her briefly see stars.
She fumbled uselessly to pull Theiryk back towards herself so that she could shield him. However, by the time she reached him one of the enemy had already knocked him across the head causing the wild elf to crumple limply like a leaf in the wind. The Avariel hissed angrily, placing herself in a crouch between Theiryk and the elf who had struck him even as she attempted to keep her companion from plummeting to his death by wrapping her arms around him and pulling him close to her chest.
How she hated trees. In that moment Navarre vowed that if she ever made it out of the situation alive she would never climb another tree so long as she lived. She glared up at the elf but made no move to attack. They were surrounded and if she made any move she was more likely to send both Theiryk and herself to their deaths. She highly doubted he would forgive her for that.
Any decision on her part was stolen from her hands though as the feathered and painted elf before her ordered others to seize both of the intruders. Theiryk was yanked away from Navarre and not even her wild flailing was enough to unbalance her captor. She was bound, gagged, and blindfolded in a matter of seconds, her sword removed far from her person just in case she miraculously managed to free herself. From there she was blindly marched, dragged, and whisked off deeper into the woods with no idea if they took Theiryk with them or if the wild elf was even still alive.
Theiryk had been strapped to a long staff, legs bound up, and arms wrapped around it so that he was slung up on it as a sloth might hang from a tree branch. Both were as they were taken across the branches, up into the greater boughs. Theiryk bled from the wound on his head, the red staining the gray of his hair, and when they were delivered to their destination, Theiryk was dropped unceremoniously onto the broad base at the center of branches in a Great Talcatta tree, that wound it's way like a spiral staircase up through the canopies.
It was a tree larger than all the rest, where the hub of branches was only the beginning and up and around them were houses made of palms, nests corralled by branches that were coaxed into growing that way, leaves hiding away the others among them.
Theiryk opened his eyes, blinking only a little to see the stain of red where his head had been, and he sucked in a deep breath. The staff was removed from his bindings, although the ones around his arms remained. And the avariel was plopped hard right beside him.
She was proud to not have cried out like a weak human when she was cruelly tossed to the unforgiving ground but Navarre could not completely hide the whoosh of hair that left her lungs with the sudden jarring. Her bindings had remained through it all as she had fought them far too much in transit to be trusted even surrounded by so many. It was for this reason that she could only glare daggers of hatred at her captors when they at last saw fit to remove her blindfold. The gag had remained in place though as the first attempt to remove it had nearly resulted in one of them losing a finger to her gnashing teeth.
They were both left relatively alone after that though, or rather as alone as a pair of watched captives could be. Navarre still looked Theiryk over with concern and was grateful to note his open eyes clear of fog. The blood from the wound to his head while having appeared to slowed or even stopped still was not a pleasant sight to behold and caused her to wince in sympathy. Gently she pressed her shoulder against him in a gesture of solidarity and assurance. Who that last was really for though, she could not say.
Theiryk watched the shaman walk away with his guard, likely only a momentary interlude for what would inevitably be their deaths. Theiryk felt the pit of his stomach grow cold at the thought. He sucked in a sharp breath when the Avariel graced his shoulder with her head. He jumped, although not because of her, only because of contact alone.
"Are you...okay?" he managed to choke out. "Are you hurt?" He could feel himself bleeding on the side of his head, but he tried desperately not to focus on it.
Navarre nodded slightly, her eyes still darting about in hopes of finding some way to escape. She scooted herself closer though so that their sides pressed close together. When she found there truly was no way out for her, she slumped slightly in defeat and allowed her gaze to rest worriedly on Theiryk.
Seeing the blood seep down his face concerned her and she found herself wishing she could reach out and help him. With a great deal of struggling and wiggling she managed to grab hold of part of her tunic and slowly tear a strip of cloth from it. Then, doing her best to ball it up with her wrists bound in front of her, Navarre shifted to press it firmly yet gently against his head.
Again she looked at him with worry in her eyes as she tried to meet his gaze. 'Are you alright?' she tried to ask with her eyes as they flickered from where her hands were to his face and back again.
He hadn't realized the cloth she was dabbing on his head before the pain became a throbbing reality. It was one he was accustomed to, in a manner of speaking. It wasn't easy, however, to hold onto his pride. It took everything to keep from falling apart, with his bindings the only thing keeping him together. Theiryk looked at her slowly, and suddenly felt a pang that hurt his chest.
At no other time in his life had anyone been there to help him... He hadn't wanted it, but even he couldn't deny how much he needed it. Tears wanted to fall then, but he blinked them away. He nodded in response to her question. Theiryk leaned into her touch, and turned his head just enough to kiss at the corner of her mouth.
It was very brief, but pride swelled his tongue, and he didn't want to break the silence. Not for now anyway. They were still alive and he supposed that was enough.
Startled by his kiss, Navarre pulled back sharply but said nothing. Her expression was not one of disgust but stoic surprise. For several breaths the wingless elf simply stared at her bound companion, silently assessing and evaluating him as if it was possible to see into his very soul and find the answers she was so desperately searching for.
Then in a blink she was in motion again, treating his head and searching for any other injuries. Have they hurt you elsewhere," she murmured softly, doing her best to ignore the whispers and insults of their captors around them.
"My sides...hurt," Theiryk breathed. "I think my ribs might be broken." He smiled and leaned in to her attention. Even with their circumstances he would allow himself the comfort of her touch for now. He couldn't say what this tribe had in store for them, but it likely wasn't pleasant. Whimpering a little from the radiating pain, he tilted his head at her.
"What about you? Are you hurt?" he whispered. "Maybe they won't kill us if we look too pathetic, huh?"
"Your sides," she repeated, glancing first at his face and then down to his torso where she dropped her hand to press against his sides, searching for the possible broken ribs. Navarre did her best to remain cold and unfeeling like how her former master trained her to be but she found it difficult when all she could feel was Theiryk's warm flesh beneath her fingertips and his breath puffing against her face.
The elf waved off his questions as if they were nothing more than the annoying buzzing of flies. "I'm fine," Navarre whispered hoarsely, refusing to be selfish and focus on herself. She had had to brush aside pain before. What she felt now was nothing. "They're not going to kill us. They wouldn't dare."
Waving him off like they were flies, huh? He supposed there wasn't much he could do to protest that. Even his normal fiery self was abated at the contact of her cool hands. They already warmed by the time they touched him and he could feel the tender right side of him react to the contact. He whimpered and leaned in against her. He couldn't help himself, unable to resist his patheticness.
Theiryk wiggled against his bindings and gestured for her to take them off. "There isn't anywhere we can go anyway," he breathed and looked at the guards around them. Clearly they knew what they were up to, but being outnumbered didn't seem promising.
"You," one said as he approached the pair. "You have names. Tell them to me now," he said.
She stopped her prodding at his sounds of great discomfort and instead moved to wrap them around him so that she could hug him close against her. Navarre continued to hold him even as her captors barked orders at them and she stared back at them watery eyes. "Give me your name first. I would know the names of the monsters that would harm a man and his pregnant wife who have done nothing to deserve such cruel and vile treatment." She sniffles for good measure and buried her face into Theiryk's shoulder.
What was she doing!? What was she saying!
Somewhere within the blind throbbing of his pain he stirred at the lie she so blatantly told. And the look on the other elf's face when examining the pair was rather wild-eyed. Theiryk kept silent, feeling his mouth curl in on itself as he laid his head over her shoulder in some sense of mock comfort. Except it really was comforting and he was more in need of it than he would admit.
Theiryk turned his head to kiss her lightly against the temple.
"Jirou," the elf said firmly and gestured to Theiryk. "You. Name."
He held his tongue. They would know him by the traces he left in the wind, even without the need for his name. "Don't speak so harshly! It's bad enough you almost killed us."
"NAME!" Jirou said firmly and advanced upon Theiryk with a dagger drawn. "Or your wife and child will be flung from these trees!" He was about to reach for Navarre when Theiryk moved a hand out.
"No... Theiryk... My name is Theiryk."
"And your wife? Who is she?"
Navarre cried out, forcing tears into her eyes as she clung tighter to Theiryk, putting on a grand show of fear. "Navarre!" she rushed to answer in a shaking, whimpering voice. "Please don't hurt us. Please I beg you. The slavers have already done enough to us," the elf full-on sobbed, burying her face against her companion's chest between gasping breaths. "Not again, please, please, please," came her continued murmuring as she rocked and shook with one hand clutching her belly.
Theiryk could get the gist of it. Playing games might not have been his strong suit, but he could adapt well enough to survive. When Navarre's arms tightened around him, he resisted whimpering and instead wrapped arms around her, kissing her face with restless affection, pressing cool lips to hers in soft coos.
Jirou just grunted with dissatisfaction. "Control your woman Theiryk, there is no place for weakness here. Zin jaaba, foroto Kahan," he muttered. That last part made Theiryk look grimly up at him.
"That can't be good.... He's going to report our names to his Chief. Our ruse can only go so far." The guard was gone by then, but he was wary nevertheless.
The lies, the fake tears, the epic sob story were all tricks of Navarre's trade. She excelled in it after years of practice and implementation for her master's sport. Humans were easily lured creatures but elves, especially Avariels were a different sort. They were skittish and wary, far more perceptive than the duller creatures that would later ensnare them.
All the same she toned down on some of her theatrics to the point where she was only sniffling and draped against Theiryk as if she did not have the strength left in er to keep herself upright anymore. "His chief won't know us, Teiryk. We won't be captives long enough for them to know better either. What did he say exactly? I," Navarre sighed, feeling a bit of true embarrassment, "I don't speak elvish."
Theiryk sighed and grunted to right himself. Those tears were awfully realistic. But he didn't bother commenting on it. After all she'd fooled even him before. "He spoke the old tongue of Wild Elves. Tiagan, as it's known in some other elven circles," he explained and looked down at her.
"I'm not as unknown as you might think. These clans war often amongst each other and they know the leaders and children of their rivals... I used to be the son of a rather prominent one... They will know me. Even if I hadn't told them my name."
"You didn't tell me that," she replied softly with a tinge of disapproval. "What do they do to each other? What will they do to us?" Navarre pulled away enough to look at him with wide, red-rimmed eyes still wet with tears. Her gaze shifted across his face back and forth as if searching for an unspoken answer that he had yet to give.
What would they do with them? There were quite a few things they could do. Torture just being one of them. But there was little they could gain from torturing a fake pregnant woman. In their situation, a might make a decent pair of servants.
"Between each other, clans quarrel for territory and resources, trade at times of peace, and kidnap or murder anyone in the way. As for us, there might be something to gain, bargaining tools against my father and anything he might have of theirs."
Navarre remained still and quiet for a moment as she considered what he had just told her. "So as long as they consider us to have value we will remain alive. Does your father have anything of value to return, Theiryk?" After a pause she added, "they wouldn't murder a pregnant woman, would they?"
"It's likely. But I haven't had contact with him for a number of years. The feeling is mutual I'm certain. You have to understand, clan law here is just as dangerous as the ground below. Truth be told, I don't know if they'll kill you. They're still weighing what we are worth," he said.
"If they were going to kill us, they would have done so already."
By then another guard came back, clearly not Jirou and instructed them to stand. "You must be cleaned and bandaged. Then the elder will see you."
She had but a moment to huff at him and glare before the new guard came to give them orders. In a blink she was once more in the role of a frightened, pregnant wife as she clung to Theiryk and helped him to his feet. "Thank you, sir," Navarre stated meekly, daring to peek up at the new elf with a concerned smile. "May I know your name?"
This elf didn't seem to be buying her semantics. Instead he grabbed Theiryk by the other arm to escort them properly. Theiryk didn't have the energy to fend off the unwanted contact.
"No," the elf answered firmly after a while. "You will both be cared for. Do not ask too many questions. The Nani will not answer them."
Theiryk was taken into a large hut, woven easily with twigs, branches and leaves to insulate and block out the sun. A pair awaited them, a woman that carefully gestured for Theiryk to sit and a male to inspect Navarre of any wounds.
Navarre took it all in stride, not once complaining or fighting their relocation as she genuinely assisted Theiryk and remained glued to his side. In fact it was only after she had assisted Theiryk in sitting for the other female that she realised who was left to treat her and froze. Her fingers tightened on his shoulder as her body began to shake and tears once more formed in her eyes.
As she was motioned forward she found her tongue lame as she could only shake her head vehemently in rejection of the command. "Theiryk," Navarre was finally able to croak out. "I can't. Not after Master," she clarified as she all but spit out the last word. She hoped that her companion would understand. Being touched was already something that the former salve struggled with but contact from a male especially one that could heal just as easily as harm her truly frightened her. Navarre's reactions were no longer meant for show but real. So as the male healer moved to take her by the hand she found herself backing up and tripping over Theiryk to fall just behind him. "Don't hurt me!"
Theiryk watched with shock as Navarre backpedaled hard into him, nearly toppling him over. Shit! She was going to get them killed. The male elf stopped his advance toward her and looked to the other Wild Elf.
"Let me talk to her," Theiryk said and turned to Navarre to lean in close. "Try to remain calm. Would it be acceptable if I underwent it first? You can just watch me. These are healers. They are meant to mend not break. Would that be acceptable to you?"
She took his hand within her own smaller one and gripped it fiercely as if afraid that he would suddenly disappear if she did not do so. "Promise?" Navarre asked, her voice shaking and child-like. "You won't leave me, Theiryk? They won't hurt me like," her hand balled up into white-knuckled fist at the unspoken name. "Please," she breathed, resting her head against his leg, her eyes pinched closed in fear.
He never saw her in such a state. Although Theiryk wasn't fond of coddling, he wasn't in any mood to worry about how that might affect her. She needed him and instead gripped her hand rather than rejecting her. "I promise. If you need, I can inspect you myself."
Theiryk nodded to the healers and after he allowed himself to under go their attention. He kept his whimpers to a minimum as they bound his ribs and rubbed salve on the bruising along his side. They cleaned him down with cloths and oils and stepped back expectantly.
Theiryk cut eyes to Navarre. "See it's not so bad."
Taking a deep breath, Navarre attempted to let go of some of her fear. A bit still remained but it was enough that she could use it as a weapon to continue her little act of a scared and worried pregnant woman. She pet Theiryk's hair in a soothing gesture before leaning down and placing a kiss on his brow. "Thank you.
"The baby will be alright?" she questioned the healers, her hand placed over her belly as if to protect her unborn 'child' as she stood and turned to face them. At their encouraging nods, she allowed herself to be examined though her eyes immediately closed again and her hand remained firmly attached to Theiryk's as her sole lifeline during the entire albeit very quick ordeal.
Theiryk couldn't really go anyway until the healers were finished with their inspection of Navarre. He forced a smile, but he remained kind to her and never once let go of her hand. His side was much alleviated, and he leaned down to kiss her cheek softly when it was over.
"How far along are you?" The male asked.
"Only just," Theiryk answered. "It's been a long and trying road."
Navarre squeezed her eyes shut as tightly as she squeezed Theiryk's hand. Blessedly it was nowhere near as bad as she feared and she was treated with gentle hands in no time at all. Her wounds were cleaned and treated with such care that she did not even realize that it was all over until Theiryk was placing another one of his kisses to her cheek.
She blinked her eyes open while loosening her grip upon his hand and nodding once to him in thanks for his kindness. Their moment was not to last though as they were quickly ushered away again, this time to the so-called leader of their clan.
He'd been doing a lot of that lately. That simple pressure of lips to her cheek. And for what? What did that even mean? After what she did to him, he should have left her here with these Wildlings and their tentative attachments to their primitive traditions. He swore to leave that world behind, there had been nothing here to hold him.
And yet here he was watching over this strange elven woman that had betrayed him then betrayed her master for him, and nearly broke in the stress of receiving healing. Theiryk shook internally, remembering himself. And where they were being dragged off to.
The Chieftain and his council...
They were thrust into the hut none too gently either. There the shaman that captured them stood before the pair and beside him were four others. His tribunal, Theiryk thought, and watched them back, unable to control the disdain that was broiling in his eyes. He remembered Navarre was beside him. She'd be a prize no less, but then again so was he, son of a rival clan.
"Kneel," the shaman instructed and he stood from the briar throne on which he saw, intertwined wood and vine that carried him and his constituents. "Please. Theiryk Val'keirith and Navarre." He paused a moment. "Or should I call you Theiryk the Hunted."
Theiryk was quiet, dropping his head.
"Speak!"
He raised his head and looked to the warrior shaman. "And say what? Beg for my life?"
"You are Val'keirith's son, aren't you?" he asked levelly. "Maybe you don't remember me? Shirak. It was long ago when you found a place in my camp. Our clans were at war then, and you were spirited away. And now here you are again, in rival territory.... And you don't remember, do you?"
"Can't say that I do. It is a backwards way of life, but life is savagery. You simply learn to survive."
"At least that we can agree on," he said. "You are at a disadvantage, however, Theiryk. Your wife is pregnant, and you are here, a slave yet again. Both of you would fetch quite a price. But you're more valuable than you think..." At this point, Shirak's expression turned grim and he grew angry. "Two moons ago your clan sacked the eastern region of my territory, killed my warriors...and took my child as tribute. And now here you are...not solely by providence."
"That is no longer my clan! And I had nothing to do with your child being taken. I'm sorry for your loss, but I will not be party to it."
"That is not your choice. You're a captive here in my camp. And so is your wife, and if given time, your child." Shirak stepped around the table and knelt beside Navarre. "She is an interesting specimen. And so will your progeny. Perhaps we shall cut her open to find out."
Navarre stood defiantly, her back straight and shoulders back in the face of a chieftain that was not her own and therefore in her mind had yet to earn her respect. She remained silent though and simply listened, not liking a single word that dripped from the poisonous snake's mouth. Theiryk's arguments certainly were not helping matters either. The mention of making her a slave again and even harming her and her "unborn child" was what finally sent her over the proverbial edge.
The she-elf laughed, first a low chuckle that just grew and grew into a loud, dark laughter. She met the eyes of the Chieftain, unafraid of punishment for her actions. "Shall I do it for you then? Cut the babe from my own flesh? Would that please you? You wouldn't even need dirty your own precious hands with such lowly blood as mine. How lucky for you that your slave is so accommodating."
She laughed again bitterly while shaking her head. In her agitation her "wings" twitched and spasmed moving across her back as a bird would stretch and flap their wings in warning. "Threaten me, elf. My life means nothing. Threaten him, it means little more. But my child, do you think it funny? Do you think it is meaningless? You who have lost a child would dare take another innocent's life? You're a fool!"
Shirak could take her defiance, even her laughter. Her wit certainly brought promise of entertainment if he decided to go back on his plan and keep the pair instead... Theiryk, however, was useless. He had a point in the fact that he had nothing to do with the outcome of that raid. Rumors of his presence in the trees had been spread on the wind.
This female however, his mate... She had promise.
Shirak remained quiet until she mentioned his child and then his hand flew hard across her face. His expression was stern and the action alone made Theiryk stand up as if about to lunge for the warrior shaman. "You sorry fuck!" Theiryk spat, hawking mucus down at his feet.
Guards came to hold Theiryk back and hold Navarre firmly.
Shirak maneuvered around the glob and gently pat the Avariel's cheek. "Maybe I'll take you up on that offer. You would certainly have value to Theiryk's clan, even if he would not. If you carry his child, then you have a Wild Elf growing inside of you. And that has value. Jirou....send a bird to Clan Vanadu. And Trazir take our guests to their accommodations."
Theiryk watched with wide-eyes as they were dragged away, feeling his stomach twist and sicken inside of him. His father, what was his father going to say? What was he going to do!? He was sure his father was going to kill him the moment he returned back home.
Home, was that even what it was anymore? He landed with a yelp when he was throw into the briar hut and the door promptly shut behind them. The briary woven around them glittered in the faint fire of wax candles. The greenery here was treated and proofed against fire, and the light shone the small leather and fur bedrolls out along the sides, as well as the food that had been set out for them.
He supposed even prisoners were due some semblance of hospitality.
Her head wiped to the side as she was nearly knocked right off her feet. While Theiryk raced to her defense, Navarre simply straightened and smiled, completely undeterred by the violence, after all it was a language she knew intimately. "You need only say so," she replied, her head cocking slightly in amused defiance as she continued to chuckle aloud.
She was soon dragged off with Theiryk, though she felt none of the fear nor concern that seemed to be plaguing him so fiercely. Instead she watched the route they were taken on, assessing her surroundings for any potential venues for escape. Sadly she found known and their so-called lodging were even less promising. Only once they were locked within and left relatively alone did she reach up to touch her injured cheek and feel the heat radiating off of it.
"Are you hurt?"
Theiryk was quiet and shifted toward one of the bedrolls, plopping down none too gently and crossing his legs, one over the other. He looked thoroughly unhappy with what just happened, even with Navarre's cool exterior. It did nothing to assuage the sickness inside. The Wild Elf frowned deeply and when his eyes locked with hers, he shook his head.
"You had to say you that, didn't you? That we were having a child?!" he hissed, bitter and feeling the sickness grow. If there was any of that food in his belly he might have retched then and there.
"Gods, this is a mess, Navarre. This isn't good."
She was unfazed by his outburst and simply moved to stand over him. "And what would you have me say? Would you rather be dead? There are few who are keen on killing an unborn child. I didn't exactly see you being very upfront and problem-solving so do not criticize my help when you were as useful as a broken axel in mud."
Navarre thumped him on the back of the head before crouching down in front of him. "Now answer the damn question. Are you hurt? Theiryk?" She looked at his face and the worry displayed upon her own was genuine. She was worried, but she was sure that they could get out of this.
Her stern words were perfect justified, but it did nothing to quell his feeling, the growing gnawing ache that surely now his fate has been sealed. She didn't understand what she had done here, and the extent of the consequences of how it would affect them. This whole fabrication had saved them, only briefly because it was completely feasible that the pregnancy was too early to show at this time.
Even healers could only extend so much in their ability.
Theiryk kept his mouth shut however and shook his head. "No, I'm not injured. Not more than before anyway. The healers do their job well, that's why they are absolutely respected. And why your fear of them was not completely understood," he said gently, sighing as if to push away the weight that seemed to drag down his shoulders.
"I'm sorry Navarre," he found himself saying, feeling odd for apologizing to anyone let alone her. "But, this is going to get out of hand. Very quickly, I just have a bad feeling about it all. My father will kill me. And if he discovers you're lying, will kill you as well."
Navarre pursed her lips and grunted, both pleased with his response that the was well while equally displeased at his bringing up her rather shameful display in front of the healers. She turned and flopped down to sit beside him rather than crouch before him. "If you had been touched by the kinds of healers I have known then perhaps you would forgive my distrust of them," she growled softly, spitting on the ground at the end at the reminder of wicked hands and lecherous eyes.
She shook her head though at his apologies and his fears. They were ridiculous in her mind and she was not above saying so. "He can try, Theiryk. Perhaps he'll even succeed. What does it matter though? Perhaps the stress of my treatment at the hands of my former master and then the elves killed the child. What then, Theiryk? If he wants proof then I can bleed. It would not be the first time. Try not to despair every time at the first spot of trouble. It is a very human thing to do and does not become a so-called Wild Elf."
At any other time, he would have suspected that she was goading him. Theiryk grew quiet at her chiding, speaking to him as if he had thrown nothing more than a childish tantrum. He at first glowered at her, wanting to rebel. To throw her off this fucking tree and have her splatter to the ground so that gravity might reinforce her lack of understanding, but his gaze softened at once when he realized she was right.
Fuck if she wasn't right.
Theiryk sighed and laid back, forcing himself to ease into the comfort of the bedroll. "Then all we can do is go through the motions then. I hope you had no other plans. If you're having a baby, my father will perform the ceremony himself." He shrugged and turned onto his side, examining her with softer eyes.
"You're remarkably resourceful. I respect that. And I don't respect much of anything."
"Ceremony?" she questioned with a raised brow and wary tension in her voice. "I am not sleeping with him if that is what you Wild Elves do. I'm not into your weird sex rituals." Navarre snorted and shook her head, drawing her knees in tight under her chin. "I'll take your respect though. There isn't much I'm good at. But surviving is one of those things that I am good at and I'm not about to give up on that yet. Not for one moment am I going to, nor am I going to let you. So do me a favor and stop being such a whiny elfling. It doesn't suit you."
"All right. I'll stop whining," Theiryk grumbled to himself as he moved to sit up and glared at her from the side of his vision. Yeah, she was right thought. Not that he'd ever admit it. He gave a grunt and nudged her shoulder with his arm. "Get on the other cot. This one's mine. And this food is mine too."
He stuck his tongue out at her and took the plate that had been placed in the center, taking a peach and taking a succulent bite. "Oh and it's a marriage ceremony. With me. Not sex. That comes before. Also with me."
Navarre rolled her eyes but made no move to vacate her spot. If he had a problem with it then he could get up and use the other cot. "Keep the food," she answered tersely. "I'm not hungry. It's probably poisoned anyway to make you sick for days." She chuckled darkly at the thought.
"Does the sex come first or the marriage ceremony because you're not making much sense."
Theiryk had been chuckling playfully and pulled the plate into his lap. He but into a piece of fruit and he gave a soft moan at it's taste. Mostly because he hadn't had anything so good in days, maybe even months. He'd lost track ages ago.
"It would be a waste to poison us," Theiryk shrugged. He ate quietly for a time and scooted himself closer to her.
"The sex comes before the marriage part. To test chemistry between potential mates. If both enjoy it, and achieve climax, then it will be a fruitful bonding between the two. Does that make more sense to you?" And another bite of that succulent peach.
"Sex first?" she squeaked in shock before rushing to straight her posture and compose herself. "How odd," Navarre continued in a more level voice. "I suppose then we needn't worry about your father being horrified by our little bundle of joy on the way." She placed a mocking hand to her belly as if resting it over their imaginary child.
"Wait, you mean to tell me that women are expected to enjoy it too?" the elf asked after a small pause. The concept was foreign to her as she had always been made to understand that sex was solely for men and procreation. "How barbaric."
The note in her voice made him tilt his head suspiciously at her. Theiryk paused his eating and slurped up the juices leaking from the fruit before he licked his lips. Blinking owlishly at her he nodded. "Yeah, of course. Why shouldn't she? If she doesn't enjoy it then her partner isn't doing a very good job now is she?" He took a piece of fruit from the basket and offered it to her.
He didn't for a minute think that such a concept might be foreign to her. He didn't exactly know the specific details of her captivity, only what little he saw and what little she shared.
Theiryk put the fruit down, cleaning his hands on a piece of cloth. "Her partner is not expected to get her pregnant. They each take a special herb called Saitha to temporarily negate the...erm potency of fertilization. It is perfectly safe in small doses. And makes it so the seed will not take. If climax is not achieved, then they are clearly not meant to bond. The process takes at least three days, for which they can experiment, to see what they like and dislike. Only one bud of Saitha is needed."
Navarre furrowed her brows in deep thought, trying to reconcile what Theiryk was saying with what she knew to be true. "Women don't climax, only men do because that's how the woman becomes pregnant. I assume if the man gets her pregnant then he's done his job and if he enjoys it then she's done hers. Why do you have to make it more complicated than it is?"
She shifted back away from him as he finished fruit and cleaned himself up. "So you're saying then your father will be upset that I'm "pregnant" since you were supposed to ensure that was avoided, right?"
"Yes. I thought that's what I was saying," Theiryk said. He threw his hands up in the air as if warding away some unseen force. He settled with his arms on his knees, hunched over and soon clasped his forearms together. "And you just say that because you probably have never had one."
Oh, that was a shitty thing to say. Theiryk meant it only as matter of factly and he turned to Navarre. "You've...never had an orgasm before? Ever? Because I assure you...a woman can have them. A lot. And anyone saying that it's impossible probably has never had one, or given one to another before. Wild Elves bond for more than progeny. They must be in sync in more than one aspect. You can tell a lot about a person from sex. To carry a child is merely rudimentary. We bond on the inside as well as the outside."
"Maybe it's just a Wild Elf thing then," she said with a snort and shrug of her shoulder. "Could always tell your father it was a forced situation. You were a slave...even temporarily. That's how Master always did things anyway. And the women never enjoyed it, since you seem so obsessed with that idea." Navarre snorted again and shook her head. "He can't fault you for everything you know," she murmured, hoping that he would let his focus on her lack of previous pleasure in sex go.
Maybe it was a Wild Elf thing. Maybe it was why his people were dying out and his father was so angry at him. Theiryk had grown accustomed to being blamed. Coming home was always a mistake after all.
"I just know my father. He's...overall unpleasant," he sighed, tiring of the topic. Thinking of the old chieftain always gave Theiryk conniptions. He wondered often if age would soften his disdain, if it would ease the ache he sometimes had regarding him. If only wishing and hoping would somehow change the fact that this was no longer his home.
Such things were futile.
He lingered a while on her choice of words, forgetting that he was talking about sex and Saitha and marriage. "Did your master force you to have sex with others? Were you forced into having sex with him?"
Navarre stared forward, listening more to the wind in the trees than to his ramblings. His roundabout cycling of bemoaning his father was becoming a bore to her. If he wasn't going to listen then she had better things to focus her attention on, like how to survive this newest predicament.
When the topic changed back to her though, her eyes slid to the side to look at him before settling forward again. The elf was still as she answered, face impassive and voice emotionless as if the answer was obvious and as normal as discussing a favorite food. "When it was my purpose to, yes."