Page 8 of The Oracle's Journey

“I’ve never seen anyone like you with my eyes before,” I said, the words tumbling out of my mouth like stones. “I like your tattoo.” He blinked, and I saw an image as the firelight continued to flicker across his face. I saw his hand rise to touch the pearly white tattoo that ran from his bottom lip and down into the collar of his leathers, but it was just in a single flicker of the flame.

That was all new.

“Fascinating,” I said, trying to look closer, waiting to see if anything else would reveal itself.

The elf leaned back, just a fraction and replied warily, “Thank you.”

“What’s your name?” I asked, “So I may address you properly?” I hadn’t meant it to come out as a question. I just couldn’t remember the phrases my comportment instructor tried to teach me.

He smirked and bowed a tiny bit from the waist, as if he didn’t have a tall, muscular woman on his shoulder. “I am Lhoris Virra.” He gestured to the armored, red-eyed elf with shoulder length hair and scars on his left jaw—the one that had reached through the carriage window. “This is my brother, Lobikno Virra.”

Lobikno frowned at us but remained silent.

“Thank you, Lhoris Virra. I am Emmelina Teague, princess of Kasta. Would you be so kind as to put down Ozanna?”

“Ozanna. Is that the name of your mercenary?” he asked, one corner of his mouth pulled up in a half grin. I had a moment of doubt, worried that giving away Ozanna’s name had gone against some scheme I wasn’t aware of.

“Yes, I’ve employed her as a guardian … a bodyguard, and demand she be treated as well as the rest of us.”

“Your employee is just a little too good at her job for us to grant her the same gentle care we extend to you,” Lhoris said, one eye twitching while Ozanna twisted on his shoulder. He had a peculiar accent I’d never heard before, and I’d heard them all living in the capital. The hard consonant sounds were just a little softer than usual.

Lhoris nodded to Lobikno and said something I couldn’t understand with my ears, but I read it on his lips in the firelight. Treat these three gently and get them something to eat. I have to finish disarming this thing.

Ozanna

A bounce on Lhoris’ toes forced another gasping “oof” from me. I stopped struggling, the breath knocked out of me, again. As it gradually returned, I started kicking, no longer worried about accidentally hitting my companions.

“Stop that,” Lhoris scolded and slapped me on the ass. It wasn’t terribly effective with the layers of skirts but enough to draw a startled, angry “Hey!” out of me.

“You’ll fall and crack your head on the ground if I drop you.” Lhoris carried me from the camp, into the dark of the forest.

I could barely see by the distant torch light. Away from the others, I worried about what he might do to me, alone and bound in the dark, not to mention that I wouldn’t be able to protect the others from whatever might happen in my absence.

“I’ll crack … your skull,” I threatened between gasps. His shoulder dug into my belly. I couldn’t support my weight with my arms behind me. Any time I straightened my back to pull myself up, he’d knock me back down with a bounce and shoulder to the belly, like a punch to the gut. I was desperate to take a deep breath, something I hadn’t been able to do since he snatched me up off the carriage bench. The ease with which he did it was startling. I’d never met someone stronger than me before. Elves were supposed to be stronger than humans, but it was entirely different to experience it from the weaker side. I was already so worn down that I didn’t have much fight left in me, but I still tried to take the pressure off my stomach by twisting onto my hip.

“Still feisty,” he grumbled through gritted teeth. He set me down and pinned my back against a tree by the shoulder with one of his large hands. I stumbled a little on the roots but managed to keep my feet. The distant firelight reflected in his pupils like many creatures suited for the night. His cold gaze caught mine—his voice abruptly serious. “I’ve already told you. I am going to disarm you. We can do this quickly and be done with it, or you can fight and force me to call some of my people. They will be decidedly less considerate than myself.” I spat on his leather clad chest, and he growled in my face. I could sense his frown more than see it.

“Fine.” He grabbed me by the shoulders and spun me around, pressing my face and collarbone into the rough tree bark.

Lhoris didn’t waste any time, starting by prodding my hair, digging his fingers under the large knotwork of braids, testing the pins that held it up. Then he worked over my body with what I felt was somewhat detached proficiency, calmly tossing anything he’d found hidden into the darkness. He didn’t linger, fondle, or grope anything inappropriate, which surprised me. I didn’t flinch until the weight of my skirts lifted. He paused but continued after a few tense heartbeats. His fingers brushed lightly over my thighs while he searched. I was mortified when my skin pebbled beneath his touch. It was embarrassingly unprofessional to get goosebumps. He started rifling through the fabric of my skirts and found the last blade.

Lhoris pulled me back upright by the shoulders and ordered, “Kick your boots off.”

“No,” I snapped, and stepped carefully away from him, aimed towards the firelight. “Don’t touch me!”

“The metal has to come out of your hair, too,” he said, following on my heels.

“Eat a slimy bag of cocks,” I shouted over my shoulder. As I stepped back into camp, Lhoris’ arm snaked around my waist, and he called to the nearest elf. My feet came up off the ground and I kicked at the newcomer while he tried, and succeeded, at pulling my boots off. He laughed and said something I couldn’t understand, then dumped all the things I had stored within them on the ground—all small items that fit neatly in the lining of the boots. A set of lock picks, needle, thread, pins, a few small knives; in other words, the essentials. Nothing of real value, though, aside from the ax trinket Doramdir had given me.

Lhoris looked down over my shoulder at the items and chuckled in my ear. “How do you even walk with so much in there?” I kicked a heel at his knees, which was largely ineffective when he broke my momentum. The other elf said something accompanied by an upward gesture of his fingers at my groin. I didn’t need a translation for that and scoffed at him. “Don’t even think about it.” I sneered.

“Afraid you’ll like it?” he lilted in a gravelly voice, his strange yellow eyes met mine. I’d have played the staring game, just to prove I wouldn’t back down, but Lhoris, whom I decided to call “Handsy-Elf,” tucked me under one arm and carried me toward the bonfire in the middle of camp.

I didn’t struggle this time because Emmelina, Eve, and Judith were by the fire. Safe. Relief washed over me.

Emmelina was on her feet, animatedly telling a story to the maids and bandits gathered around.

“All out of vinegar?” Handsy-Elf asked, but I didn’t answer. He plopped me on the ground and sat at my back, then started to pick the pins out of my hair. Heat crept up my neck and face when I realized which tale Emmelina was telling.

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