Wrought of Iron and Silk, Book One [2014 Watty Award Winner]

Chapter 19 - The Runes

Chapter 19 – The Runes

Thor made his way through the forest with the Elves as fast as he could. Even with the weight of the dead, they moved quickly through the thick brush. Though they did not see it, the elf commander, who they called Asher, said they were on trails that would lead them back to their camp. The Light Elves had a keen sense and were skilled in navigating forests. Cecilia was already lost and was sure that both Tin and Thor were as well.

Surprisingly, Tin made friends quickly among the Elves. His jests brought smiles from them all and they answered back with jokes of their own. Cecilia was quite comfortable as well. Her ever-curious mind sought answers to questions about the druids and the others that lived in the forests of the Alfheim. She was cautious not to pry too far, though. The Elves were very careful to keep their ways a secret.

The night came on and they set up a small camp in a clearing. The Elves could have traveled throughout the night, but Tin and Cecilia needed the rest. The troll was tied up and placed near a tree where Thor stood over him with his hammer at the ready. Cecilia knew it was an empty threat, for they needed to extract information about the trellqueen from the creature. Thor said he could stop the troll without violence if it tried to escape, but they all knew the creature would stay where it was.

As they prepared to rest for the night, Cecilia noticed the Elves did not lie down as humans did. They sat, cross-legged and placed their hands on their knees before closing their eyes. It looked more like a meditative trance than sleep.

Cecilia, herself, slept fitfully. Her injured leg – which she had kept tightly bandaged with strips of cloth ripped from her tunic – had been throbbing all throughout the night. She got up from her blanket in the clearing and found solace beside a small campfire, where she would begin the daunting task of undressing her much neglected leg wound.

She carefully peeled part of the giant mass of bandages back from the wound, seeing only dried blood and the edge of her discolored and torn skin. It made her feel light-headed to look at the wound, so she pushed the bandages back into place. Several moments passed between her dizziness and swaying. She splashed cold water onto her face from the pouch she kept laced on her belt. The cool water felt lovely on her warm skin.

It wasn't long before she realized she was not alone. With inordinate care, Asher had followed her up the slope and sat down across from her.

Without his dark helmet, Cecilia could see his radiantly handsome features – high cheekbones, straight nose, and strong chin – except for one thing: his face was lined by a patchwork of scars that cut down his cheek and jaw. He glanced up at her, and she quickly returned her eyes back to her injuries, embarrassed she'd been caught staring. The others must stare at him frequently for carrying such an unabashedly handsome face beneath the cobweb of scars. He wore the look of someone who had questions.

Cecilia spoke first. "I want to thank you again for your help. You put on an impressive display of strength and courage. You really are a Lios-Alf, aren't you?"

The elf simply nodded and looked into the fire. He placed his hands closer to the flames to warm them. The night had become increasingly colder. It would only be a few more days before the snow started to fall.

Resigning herself to his silence, Cecilia frowned for a moment as she peeled the last bandage off carefully. As she had feared, the wound was still bleeding. She fought against the nausea that rose in her and applied some pressure with her fingers, but a thick warm pulse spread across her thigh.

Concern flashed across Asher's face. "You're bleeding."

"I assure you, it must look worse than it is," she answered, but to Asher, her voice sounded weak.