Ink Sisters

Chapter Twelve

The end of the man named Rene's sword jabs into Lorelle's back again as he strolls past her. A cry almost escapes from her lips, but she forces it back down, unwilling to show any sign of weakness. She catches the Seeker's eye, who holds his neck straight: a symbol to show he is not happy about this submission.

            "Gamir?" Lorelle whispers to him.

            "The keeper of the forest," he mumbles, rolling his eyes. "The time we've traveled back to is becoming unfortunately clear." His lips hardened into an unyielding line. Lorelle doubts he will speak more. She doesn't get the chance to prod.

            "Hey! No talking!" The Seeker is smacked roughly on the back of the head and shoved forward. Lorelle whimpers but holds her tongue. She is not feeling brave enough to channel Leandra's bluntness.

            The man who pushed the Seeker forward comes into her view behind him, he pulls his hood back to reveal a head full of bushy orange hair. The beard encompassing the bottom half of his face is the same tawny shade but unrulier, as if it is bent on taking over the rest of his skin. There is nothing notable about his features: thick jaw, squinty eyes so dark she cannot be sure of their color. Perhaps if he did not have the beard, she could see more of him.

            "Yes," the man calls, slapping the Seeker on the back, "we know who you are, but I've got say to," another loud smack on the back of his neck, "the wanted posters don't do you justice." He chuckles bawdily. The Seeker grits his teeth. "Eh? What do you think, Rene?"

            The young man from earlier, the one leading them further into the swaying, humming trees, glances over his shoulder. The Seeker's sword is now strapped to the black leather belt at his waist like some grand trophy.

The other three strangers have fanned out. One holds Jonas, his hands bound by constricted ropes. He hasn't spoken and only wears a knowing smile. It is quite chilling, and Lorelle can't look at him for more than a second. Maren is held in line behind her. The same ties that bind Lorelle are connected to Maren's wrists. A single man holds the other end, tugging them along in succession. Lorelle can tell that Maren takes this as a high insult, to be shackled together, not thought of as a threat. They had to pry the Seeker's sword from her fingers, and the action was not pleasant. Lorelle suspects some of her fingers are broken.

The third man walks beside Rene solemnly carrying a bow. His hood has fallen back as well to reveal a stark leather eyepatch covering his left eye. A tight black ponytail keeps his straight, shiny hair pulled back from his angular features. The severity steals any handsomeness his face might have claimed. A great longsword, larger than the Seeker's and cut in a blue hue is slung over his shoulder, his gloved hand still holding onto its hilt rather comfortably. Lorelle wonders what the men are wearing beneath the heavy cloaks. Are they dressed similarly to Rene? Because she has seen similar gloves before, on a man back at Drakkor's house...

"It was idiotic really," Rene replies coldly, "not to use the magic this land is gifted with to change your appearance."

"I don't command those charms connected with the Mirror Lands," the Seeker explains. "I am not of this world and have never claimed to be." He clears his throat, and the bearded man from earlier grabs him gruffly by the neck.

"Told you to be quiet," he hisses in his ear.

"Leave him be, Arnold," Rene says.

"I don't need your charity," the Seeker remarks dryly, and Rene chuckles. It is a startling revelation to find that it makes him sound and look younger. A boyish snicker, one that hones foreboding and promises mischief. The action seems familiar, but Lorelle has never been in the presence of others besides her sister and Syd. She decides that maybe this is a good sign.