Elixir Part 3
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A
Morning dawned clear and far too bright in Anora’s opinion as she burrowed herself deeper under her covers. The bedroll was not as luxurious as her bed had been the night before, but it still was far more plush than the straw pallet of the prison or even the bed she had in the manor.
The smell of food and the sound of eggs cracking drew her reluctantly out of her cocoon. She groaned. Everything ached, especially her legs. She gathered the limited activity during her imprisonment had atrophied her muscles and now they protested from such extensive use. She had barely managed to get herself upright when a plate of breakfast was placed in her lap. A tea cup was placed beside her.
“Sore muscles?” He asked, concerned. She nodded and he sprinkled a white powder into her tea. “That will help though it may taste bitter. I can add honey to help.” She lifted the cup, took a sip, and winced. Bitter, she realized, was an understatement. A chuckle informed her the wince had been noticed and soon he was back, golden honey in hand.
Breakfast eaten, they packed up their supplies. She was still achy, but the horrid powder had made it barely noticeable. She found herself wondering about Mal’s behavior last night, but from what she could tell he didn’t seem to remember it. It had been odd, seeing him staring, but she had to admit not unpleasant. She hadn’t meant to touch him initially, but he had seemed almost caught in a trance when she took his bowl. The whine he made at her stopping gave her tingles straight to her toes even just thinking about it now. It was so at odds with that demand to not be touched when they first met that she felt like they were two different people.
A second day of traveling behind her quiet companion began. She had much to think about after last night and did not mind the quiet. Her mind churned over every interaction, searching for what, she didn’t know. She was dimly aware of the tilt the land took as they began to climb. Rocky soil replaced all but the most stubborn tufts of grass and the air grew chill.
By the time they stopped for lunch, the air had grown cold enough that Anora’s breath was visible. She rubbed her arms as Mal dug in his pack. He pulled out a fur-lined cloak and handed it to her. She happily wrapped herself in it and lifted the hood. The reddish orange fur was soft and she was soon warm. She watched as Mal pulled out a second cloak, this one lined in silvery white fur. She could tell the cloaks were finely made and knew fox fur, especially the white variety, was prized by many nobles. The fact he seemed oblivious to the wealth made her curious.
“Won’t we stand out with these?” She asked as she took the sandwich he held out to her. She wasn’t surprised at his raised eyebrow response. “These are high quality, people will assume we are wealthy nobles in these.” She watched him mull over her words then chant a quick phrase in a language she’d never heard before. She looked down at the cloak, but it remained the same. When she looked back at his she noticed it had changed. The fur was sparse and black, the fabric no longer thick dark wool, but thin and drab gray.
“Yours is similarly drab now,” he assured her. “We will reach a hunters’ lodge tonight if my map is accurate.” She nodded, satisfied they would not attract the attention of thieves due to the cloaks. She finished her meal in silence and they headed on their way.
The way grew steeper as they headed north and with the elevation gain came more coughing fits. Anora’s worry grew with each one until Mal collapsed. She hurried to his side as he sat in a small pile of snow, his chest heaving.
M
He felt the cold, wet snow seep into his pants, but he could not stand. He could barely just breathe, the air thin and cold. He knew the illusion was likely making it worse, but Anora had been right to worry. He felt pathetic, worthless, like his father had often complained. He suddenly felt hands tugging him and realized Anora was trying to help him stand.
With her assistance he managed to regain his feet. Then, he shakily resumed the climb, leaning heavily on his staff with one arm and supported by Anora under the other. He was stunned by the steely determination she had and found it bolstered his own flagging strength.
It took what felt like hours and countless coughing fits before the lodge came into view, Anora supporting him the entire way. The sky was already deepening to twilight, the stars just beginning to make an appearance, as he reached for the door.
He pulled the door open and shuffled inside. The main hall was bustling with activity. Hunters ladened with pelts laughed and drank at the numerous round tables. A portly man came out from behind the bar to greet them.
“Welcome!” he called as he made his way over, “if yer hopin’ fer a room I’ve got jist da one left.” Mal watched him stroke his braided beard as he appraised them. “2 gold fer da room,” he decided finally, “5 copper fer a meal each.” A bit high, Mal thought, but seeing it was the only room left it seemed fair. He pulled out two coins and handed them over.
“We only have need of the room,” he told the man. “Though if you have mounts for sale we would be interested.” The man considered for a moment and nodded.
“I’ll see if I have a couple fer ye in da morn,” he said handing Mal a key, “up da stairs third on yer right.” Mal thanked the man and turned towards the stairs. Each one seemed an insurmountable climb in his current condition.
“I’ve got you,” a soft encouragement came from his left. He glanced at Anora and found a hidden reserve of strength in her eyes.
It was barely enough to get him to their room without collapsing. Once inside, he staggered to the bed and sat down heavily. He tried readying a meal for them, but he was trembling so much he couldn’t even remove his cloak. Warm hands pulled his away from the clasp and deftly unhooked it. He let go of the illusion and watched as she folded it carefully atop her own then began digging through the packs. He guided her on what each pouch contained since she would not understand the symbols.
They ate sitting side by side on the bed, Anora helping him as needed. He hated feeling so helpless, his frustration rising as he realized that if he had attempted this alone he would not have made it to the lodge. Dinner finished, he turned his attention to sleep. It would be a tight fit, he judged, but a bedroll on the floor would fit. He informed Anora of that and offered her the bed.
“You are in no condition to sleep on the floor,” she insisted, “you take the bed.” He didn’t have the energy to argue so he simply instructed her on which pouch the bedroll was in. He then turned his attention to the struggle to get himself ready for bed. Once more hands came to assist and he found himself almost nose to nose with Anora. He felt every inch of him warm at her closeness as he let her gently tuck him into bed. Her fingers lightly stroked his cheek and he felt a pleasant tingle dance down his spine.
A
Anora gently stroked his cheek as she watched Mal drift off to sleep. It had been a rough trek for him and she worried what the rest of the journey would require. She recognized the growing feelings she had for him and wondered if he felt the same. She knew she was hardly a beauty, her figure more boyish than desirable. She had been grateful for it at the manor. The two eldest sons of the lord would frequently chase and harry the other girls, the pretty ones. Some seemed to enjoy the rough and lewd attention, which confused her. She could not see Mal acting in such a way, though she did enjoy the way her body tingled when they were close.
She found the right pouch and pulled out the bedroll. It was a tight fit, as Mal predicted, but she was soon tucked in. Sleep was not as swift in coming however and she lay awake listening to Mal’s soft breathing. So close, she realized, not across a campfire, but easily within arm’s reach if she sat back up. She felt her nerves buzz at the proximity. A cough sounded above her and she heard him shift. An arm appeared, dangling limply off the edge of the bed, his long fingers now resting on her bedroll. Cautiously, she took the hand in hers, weaving her fingers with his. A contented sigh came in response and she smiled. Closing her eyes, sleep finally came, while her hand gently held his.
The next morning dawned bleak and gray out the tiny window of their room. Anora shifted to hide from the light only to find her hand trapped. Opening her eyes revealed that her hand was still entwined with Mal’s. She was about to release her hold when she noticed his thumb was moving in gentle repetitive strokes against her skin. Glancing up, she found him wide awake, leaning over the bed and gazing at her. This close she could see his eyes were a dark brown rather than black, flecks of amber catching the light like stars in a warm night sky. She felt her cheeks warm as she realized he had likely been watching her sleep. His thumb ceased its movement and she felt a soft squeeze as a soft smile tugged his lips upward. She found herself mirroring his smile and gave his hand an answering squeeze. She was falling hard for this quiet, beautiful boy she realized, but she wondered if she was headed for heartbreak or if somehow she was lucky enough to have the feelings returned.
M
Mal woke to the dreary gray morning feeling refreshed. As he tried to shift to begin his day however, he noticed his arm that hung over the side of the bed appeared to be stuck. The hidden hand was rather warm as well, he realized. Curious, he peered over the edge. Anora was still sound asleep, her hand had his in a firm yet gentle grip. He vaguely remembered struggling to sleep, his cough refusing to let him properly rest, until his arm slid off the bed. Warmth had bloomed through him shortly after, his body finally able to drift to sleep. Gazing down at her now, he found himself content for the first time since his mother had vanished.
He knew they should get going, but after such a grueling trek to the lodge his body was in no hurry to repeat the effort. His mind seemed equally reluctant, preferring instead to focus solely on the delicate beauty of his companion so he let himself drink in her features. The soft golden color of her hair with its riot of curls reminded him of early morning sunshine, those first rays dancing wildly across the hills. Her eyes, sadly hidden behind her eyelids for now, reminded him of the sky on a cloudless summer day, full of endless warmth. Her lips were the deep pink of sunset. Her sun-kissed skin dusted with freckles had him mesmerized like the night sky with its glittering stars often had as a child. A petite, delicate package that was far more beautiful than the ladies his father had insisted he mingle with.
Dressed in layers of finery, with their hair twisted up in complex designs and faces painted so much it was practically a mask, they had tittered and fawned at him. He had hated those hours of attention, their hands constantly touching him. His father had ignored his pleas to stay home, to be allowed a reprieve from feeling like a pet on display. An honor, his father had called it, yet it had only made his skin crawl.
Anora’s touch was different, a warm welcome connection between them. There was strength in that connection too, he realized, his mind returning to that final stretch to the lodge. She had shown such determination, encouraging him to push beyond what he had thought himself capable of, that he found himself awestruck. His thumb gently began stroking her hand as he wondered if perhaps she saw something in him, something worthy of her attention beyond the failure his father had seen.
Her shifting drew him from his thoughts and he watched her try to burrow into the bedroll away from the meager light coming in from the window. Adorable, he admitted to himself. He saw her realize her hand was occupied and debated on feigning sleep. He took a moment too long as her eyes opened, catching him watching her. He noticed there was no startled reaction nor any sign of discomfort, instead she seemed as content as he felt. He paused his thumb’s movement and gave her hand a light squeeze. The smile that formed on his lips came unbidden, surprising him, yet when she not only reciprocated the squeeze, but gifted him with her own smile he felt nearly giddy with happiness.
A loud hammering at the door shattered the peaceful moment and Mal groaned. At the door was the man from last night. Mal stepped out of the room and mostly closed the door to allow Anora to dress.
“Good morn te ye,” the man greeted him cheerfully, “ye were askin’ bout sum mounts last night. I’ve got two fer ye, hardy mountain stock.” Mal nodded and began haggling with the man.
A
Anora watched Mal step out then began getting dressed to resume their trek into the mountains. She was relieved Mal seemed in better shape this morning. She had been terrified last night though had done her best to hide it. She was hopeful the mounts would help ease some of the strain of this journey, though she had never heard of horses up here in the mountains. She had only ridden horseback once and it had not ended well. She’d brave it again, she knew, for Mal.
After a quick breakfast together, she bundled herself up and prepared to meet the challenge. The bearded man led two shaggy creatures over to them and she let out a relieved breath. They were not horses, but shaggy ponies. She caught Mal’s raised eyebrow, but focused on the approaching mounts.
As it would turn out, she didn’t have any difficulty with the riding, but Mal did. She found herself giggling as Mal huffed and complained, his long legs folded gracelessly on either side of the pony. For all his gripes though, he did not dismount and walk instead. The way up became treacherously steep though the ponies showed little issue with the climb.
As they stopped for lunch, the gray clouds in the sky seemed to grow closer, threatening rain. She wondered if this high up would mean snow instead even with spring having already arrived. A loud groan from Mal pulled her attention away from the steely sky and she watched as he stretched, his joints snapping and popping as he worked out the discomfort.
“The village we want is only another day’s travel if we take the pass,” Mal said as they ate, “It’s still thick with snow according to recent reports, but supposedly manageable without wagons.” Anora nodded. A question sat on her tongue, but she held it back, unwilling to hear the answer. She would have to face the answer eventually, she knew, but not yet.
Continue Reading: Part 4
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