Page 28 of Bite Sized Bride
“Fenris,” he says. He lowers the sharpened stake, though he doesn’t drop it. “Escaped from the neptherium mines on Tlouz. Been on the run for six months.”
He has a charismatic air about him, despite his wretched appearance. His eyes are a bright, intelligent blue, and his smile, when it comes, is a flash of white in his dirty face. It is the first genuine smile I have seen from another human in a decade. It is a dangerously seductive thing.
“You’re a long way from Tlouz,” I say, taking another cautious step closer.
“So are you,” he counters. “What’s a Lliandor house slave doing this deep in the Pref wilderness?”
“Looking for something,” I say vaguely. “A place. Have you ever heard of a… a Wildspont?”
Fenris’s eyebrows shoot up. He lets out a low whistle. “Heard of them? Girl, every slave in the mines whispers stories about the Wildsponts. Places of great power, they say. Places where a man can find a new beginning. Or a quick end.”
My heart leaps. He knows.
“Do you know where one is?” I ask, my voice tight with a hope so fierce it hurts.
He laughs, a short, humorless bark. “If I knew that, do you think I’d be sitting here roasting a Rodan? They’re legends. Ghosts. No one knows where they are for sure. You can only stumble on them and not find one.”
My hope plummets. Of course. It was too easy.
“But,” he says, his blue eyes twinkling, “I’ve heard things. Old stories from the shamans and the long-timers in the mines. They say the Wildsponts have a feel to them. They say the air gets thin, that the trees grow in strange ways. They say they’re often found in places where the rock itself is sick with magic.”
He gestures around us, at the ancient, gnarled trees, the moss-covered stones. “This whole forest feels sick with magic. You could wander for a lifetime and not find it.”
He is right. We are lost.
“What if you weren’t wandering alone?” I ask, the words tumbling out before I can stop them. “What if you had protection?”
Fenris’s eyes narrow, his gaze shifting to the dark trees behind me once more. He is no fool. He knows I am not alone.
A low growl, a sound like grinding stones, rumbles from the shadows. Kael is making his presence known. His warning is clear.Do not trust him.
Fenris’s face pales, but he holds his ground. “Protection from what?” he asks, his voice tight.
“From whatever hunts you,” I say. “From whatever huntsus.”
I am taking a terrible risk. This man could be a spy, a bandit, a killer. But he is also a human who has suffered at the hands of the dark elves. He is a man who understands desperation. And right now, he is the only chance we have.
“I have a protector,” I continue, my voice gaining strength. “He is strong. He can hunt. We can share our food. We can watch each other’s backs. Together, we might have a chance of finding this place.”
Fenris stares at me for a long, silent moment. I can see the calculations happening behind his bright blue eyes. He is weighing the risk of traveling with a stranger against the certainty of dying alone.
“And what’s in it for me?” he finally asks. “If we find this magic place of yours?”
“A new beginning,” I say, echoing his own words. “The same thing you’re looking for.”
He glances at the roasting Rodan on the fire, then at my own gaunt face. We are two starving dogs fighting over a bone.
“My daughter,” he says suddenly, his voice thick with an emotion that feels painfully real. “Her name is Elara. The elves… they still have her. They use her to make sure I don’t cause any trouble. If I could find a place of power, a way to get strong… maybe I could get her back.”
The story is a punch to the gut. It is so full of a desperate, parental love that it feels unimpeachable. It is the perfect lure for a fool like me who is starving for a reason to trust.
Against my better judgment, against the low, insistent growl that is still vibrating from the trees, I make a decision.
“We’ll help you,” I say. “We’ll find the Wildspont. Together.”
Fenris breaks into a wide, relieved grin. “All right then, Mikana,” he says, finally dropping the sharpened stake. “It seems we have a deal.”
He offers me a piece of the roasted Rodan. As I reach for it, Kael steps from the shadows.
