New Dawn

Chapter 12

I must admit, Lady Galadriel had voiced her worry about the persisting rumors, but I ignored her. You must forgive me again, hiril vuin. And for my next sin as well...
I met the true enemy... or at least I believe I did.

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L U M O R N E L

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Dever came out of seemingly nowhere. And saved my life.

Jeanna's short bow skidded away, the arrow that was aimed for my heart clattered feet away from me. Dever, as the guard punched the air wildly, unsheathed a dagger and went to strike Jeanna with the pommel.

But he froze mid-swing.

What is he doing?

Dever lowered his hand as Jeanna struggled under him and waved his hand hesitantly above her face. She didn't react.

He stood, brows creased and Jeanna scrambled away until she hit the bars of a cell. Lantern light flicked across her face, gleaming over wide, wide eyes. She yanked out a knife, standing in a slight crouch, and held the weapon out before her wardingly.

Dever silently stood before her, slowly reaching out a hand. Jeanna's eyes didn't follow it, whereas moments before she'd been tracking my every move.

She's blind.

"Valar," I breathed. I did that. I did that—

Jeanna, at the sound of my voice, raised her hand to throw the dagger. Dever caught her wrist, unarmed her, and used its pommel to send her into blissful oblivion. But as her head lulled to the side, a tear rolled down her cheek.

I looked away.

Dever's boots clomped on the floor.

The cell door squeaked open, Dever holding it open, Jeanna's keys dangling in one hand.

"Come on," he said, motioning towards the exit with his head. "Let's go."

"What—I—" Emotion welled up in my throat, making it unbearably hard to swallow. Diran lay burned and in pain. Jeanna blind.

"If we do not leave now we will be caught." He paused, but I continued gazing at the destruction and pain I wrought in a cloudy haze.

"You will learn to control it in time. You did once, you can do it again."

I gulped, nodding, and tucked the pain down deep, instead letting my physical injuries take over. The agony hit me like a blow, smarting and twisting, but I managed to stumble out of the cell room and into the jail's torch-lit front room, sheathing my knife. But... should I follow him?

He did save me... and...

"Where are my things?" I asked Dever as he returned the keys to the clerk's desk, said clerk unconscious just inside the cell-room. "I won't leave without them."

Did they already sell my bow?

"They're hidden in the forest—we'll gather them as we're leaving."

He stole a sheet of parchment from a drawer, dipped a discarded quill in ink, and scribbled a note. Finished, he returned the quill, shaking the paper dry and then he folded it into his tunic.

He didn't seem to carry the weight of fear—only a sense of urgency. Strong, resilient; I sensed many bitter winters were tucked under his belt, making his face unreadable and emotions rare to appear. As I watched, he unsheathed a knife and met my vivid green eyes with his own, taking in my appearance in one sweep.