Freedom Bound

Blade of Mercy

Ava did not see Fenris again for months. She lost track of how many, but the rainy seasons was ebbing slowly to a close by the time Danarius had recovered himself enough to venture a journey to find his lost slave. Yes. Lost, not dead. Ava clung to those words every day. Her friend was out there, and he was free. Many times she thought of his escape plan. Of trying to implement it herself. She secreted a knife into a special pocket she had sewn on the inside of her dress, but she knew she could never slay a guard with it. She needed Fenris's blade.

He would never be coming back. If he had any sense he would have fled far and hidden well. Even with his distinctive markings he should be able to keep a low profile. Couldn't he? She had only known Fenris as a fellow slave. What was he like as a free elf? What was she?

As she continued the daily drudge of caring for her mistress Ava kept her ears open at all times. Apparently Danarius had been seriously injured by creatures called 'Fog Warriors' when he had visited an island. What was it, Seheron? He had fled, leaving Fenris behind. Every day, it seemed, he railed against this decisions. Fenris was his pride, his power, an example of what he had that no other could possess. Ava wondered how many magisters had tried the lyrium ritual on their own slaves and failed. How many lyrium scarred bodies were tossed into the gutter.

"You should have let me go with you," Hardriana insisted after another of Daraius's rants. "If there had been two of us those Fog Warriors would not have stood a chance.

"I hardly got out of there myself," Danarius grumbled. "The ship we fled on was crowded, if I had to leave Fenris, I would have had to leave you too."

"You would have...?" Hadriana looked aghast, stepping back slightly from her teacher.

"Fenris is my greatest creation. You are my best student. Don't you think I would have kept him or you if I was able? There was no time."

This seemed to settle Hadriana slightly, though her face was still bitter, her eyes still narrowed. Ava stood in the corner, awaiting orders. To be sent for tea or food. She kept her head down, her hands clasped demurely before her. She was certain that the humans had forgotten she was there. She was furniture. A fixture, not a person. This served her just fine. She might have smiled when she heard Danrius shift in his chair, trying to get comfortable, "never fear, Hadriana. When I go back to reclaim my lost wolf, I shall bring you along as well."

"Ah," the apprentice did not sound as excited as she had before. Ava suspected it was far easier to claim bravery over a situation that had long since resolved. "Very well," the woman agreed. The pair settled back in to their conversation and Ava zoned out of it. If her mistress sailed to Seheron she would certainly bring at least one slave. Ava chewed her lip. If Fenris had gotten free, perhaps she could as well. She thought of the others. Of little Ben. Of intelligent Sol. There was no way they would be allowed to come along. It hurt her to think of it, but a different part of her soared. Her soul had been given wings that rainy day in the courtyard, and it hadn't stopped flapping since.

Being on a ship was nothing like being in a carriage. Everything was always moving, but not with little bumps and jostles. Instead it was a constant sway, the smell of dead fish and live humans intermingling, it was almost too much for Ava. She had to keep herself together, however, because she was there to serve her mistress. Hadriana was a demanding woman indeed. Her water had to be fresh. If it had sat for more than a few hours it was to be thrown away. Ava usually just drank it herself, because she had once splashed a full cup over the side and received such glares from the sailors that she did not do so again. Fresh water was precious aboard.

Ava was interested to see that the ship was often hurried along its path by weather mages. This might have given her pause, but the mages here did not behave as magisters. They wore ordinary clothes and their staves were plain with simple crystals set in their tops. The mages didn't put on airs or belittle their fellows. Instead they worked at their craft with a kind of dignity Ava was not accustomed to. She could have watched them for hours. Some of them were even elves, and they mingled with their human counterparts easily.