Page 18 of Aofie's Quest
Was it a challenge? I jutted my chin out. “Of course. I can take care of myself.”
The words came out more forceful than I intended and Romulus caught my eyes, his narrowing just the slightest as he examined me. “Well then, I should have let you cook,” he said wryly, taking a frog out of the net. Lifting his knife, he began to skin it, tossing strips of skin into the fire.
I was unsure whether he was teasing me or not, but he was right, we hadn’t had fresh meat the past seven days and had eaten from our packs. Who was I to turn up my nose at cooked meat, frog or not?
When Romulus finished skinning the frog, he skewered it on the stick, which he wedged against the stones so that the meat hung over the fire. “Frogs are handy when you travel near water, and these are some fat ones. The legs are best for meat. I don’t much care for the midsection; it often has undigested food and bile.”
I wondered if I should offer to help as he continued, but his fingers were nimble and soon all six frogs steamed in the fire. A gentle breeze blew up, sending the bulrushes dancing. The riverside was beautiful.
“Romulus.” I glanced at him again as he cleaned his knife. He appeared more relaxed than I’d seen him. “Where did the fairies come from?”
He raised his eyebrows. “Have you never seen fairies before? The fey folk are everywhere. Like humans, they live where their basic needs are met and they are known for being mischievous. Your encounter with them was normal. Usually they take to strangers and use them as an easy target for this mischief.”
A thought crossed my mind and I chewed my lower lip as I weighed whether it was wise. I tucked my hands farther into the fur of the cloak and eyed the steaming frogs. “I don’t like to leave disagreements unresolved. Is there a way you can make the fairies come back so I can talk to them?”
Romulus’s gray eyes widened. He stared openly at me and then glanced up at the clouds, where the fairies had disappeared. Finally, he returned his gaze to me, and his lips thinned. “Aofie. You are full of surprises. Unfortunately, I don’t speak the language of the fairies well enough to bid them to return. Perhaps you will have another encounter that will allow you to settle your differences with them. Do you do this with all creatures? It is your goal to be well liked?”
Disbelief dripped from his words, giving me pause. I recalled the words of Epona, spoken during a time when the frustration of being different had risen so high I lashed out. Epona helped me calm down and reminded me of one simple truth. “Aofie, you must remember that you were born for a reason, and you know that each of us were born for a very specific purpose. We are all unique in our own ways; even you have seen the balance our differences bring. Some of us cook, some of us hunt, some of us teach. We all have gifts but they are not the same, and that is intentional. You grow frustrated because you don’t have great hooves and cannot run as fast as a centaur. We are made strong and swift, the forest is our home, but you are human and belong in the kingdom of men. There is more to your life than the forest, and because of this truth you must seek to understand creatures, and acknowledge their differences. In doing so you will build alliances and strengthen the bond between the races and people you come across during your quest.”
The memory faded and I faced Romulus. “Nay. It is not a need to be well-liked, but a desire to understand. I travel with you because you know the way and are aware of the dangers we will face. I need your knowledge because it is something I do not have. My thinking is, the fairies also know something or have a useful skill that will benefit us. What is the harm in finding out what it is?”
Romulus cocked his head at me but said nothing. My words slipped away into silence, leaving only the babbling voice of the river to give music to the afternoon. The frogs sizzled and Romulus picked up one and blew on it. He poked at a leg. Pink flesh appeared and juice dripped out, burning his fingers. He shook them, mumbling incoherently under his breath. Turning it, he poked the other side and nodded, a slight smile coming to his face. “Eat up. We have three frogs each. I dare say we won’t get a fresher meal for a while.”
I frowned as I eyed the frogs. Pulling a stick out of the fire, I waved it back and forth to cool down the hot meat. I shivered, for the frog was whole and its sightless, bulging eyes glared at me, daring me to eat it. Somehow it appeared more alive than the floppy fish and graceful elk I was used to eating. Swallowing hard to overcome my trepidation, I reached for the frog and a vicious roar shook the air.
Chapter Sixteen
I jerkedand pivoted toward the scattering of trees behind me. While the trees weren’t thick, they ran on in various clumps and the ground rose and fell in uneven swells, making it impossible to see who or what was out there.
“Quick,” Romulus hissed, a finger to his lips as he dropped his half-eaten meal and drew his sword. “Get dressed. There may be trouble. I’ll scout ahead and see what’s wrong.”
Without another word, he bent low and ran into the trees. The shadows hid him and I was alone. Taking a deep breath to steady myself, I took in my surroundings. Was I truly alone? Another far-off roar ripped through the air, reminding me this wasn’t a time to be modest. Letting go of the cloak, I yanked on my shirt and wiggled into my skirt. The cloth was mostly dry but smelled like a mixture of bog water, smoke, and frog meat. I wrinkled my nose as I fastened my belt, pulled the knife free, and crept into the tall reeds, my eyes on the trees.
What was out there? A wild animal? Bears, wild cats, and other predators were frequently seen in the Beluar Woods, especially at night. I saw them when I hunted, yellow eyes glowing in the dusky light. A shiver went down my spine, but not one of fear. Usually, I had my bow and arrow, and a knife was inconvenient to fight with, but I was raised in the forest—I knew how to handle myself.
The roar came a third time, followed by a scream and the clang of steel. My fingers tightened around my knife and my mouth went dry. I weighed my choices: stay hidden in the reeds while Romulus fought whoever or whatever was out there alone, or creep up and join the scrimmage. I was a warrior, trained to fight, not hide, and so I did what I knew to be right. I crept silently toward the trees, scanning the area for signs of battle.
A cry rang out, and I sprang into a run, ducking behind trees as I moved closer to the source. The quick movements warmed up my legs, preparing me for battle, and I swung my arms, readying them for action. I burst out of a clump of trees and saw them.
Romulus fought four soldiers, using the trees as his cover. The soldiers were big men, taller than Romulus with broad shoulders, and covered head to toe in polished silver armor. Two of them carried shields and held wide blades so thick and shiny that reflections shone in them. The other two carried double-bladed axes and raised them above their heads as they charged Romulus. He leapt deftly out of their way, sending one soldier sprawling and slapping the other in the head with his sword. But they outnumbered him, and the swordsmen advanced, one on each side. Romulus was quick, but I knew he needed my help. It took a couple of seconds for me to study the soldiers, finding their weak spots, and I charged.
As I ran, a rope whistled through the air and looped around the neck of a swordsman. He lifted his hands, but he was too late; the rope dragged him backward through the shrubbery, tied high in a tree. It hauled the swordsman up, kicking and screaming, his legs jerking and his arms reaching for the rope. He dropped his broadsword and I saw my chance.
Changing direction, I dashed under the hanging guard—ignoring the horrific sight of his body twitching—and wrapped my fingers around the hilt of the broadsword. It was heavier than I expected and I had to sheath my knife so that I could use both hands to lift it. As I grew accustomed to the weight, a soldier wielding an ax charged. I slid one foot back as he moved toward me and prepared my mind for battle. It was better not to think but to act on swift instincts. The motions came back just as easily as if I were in training. I’d never fought an opponent who was out to kill me, but I’d carried through the motions all the same. I let my thoughts go as the ax swept toward me.
“Aofie, no!” Romulus shouted. “Get out of here!”
I thought I detected an edge of raw fear in his shout, but the blade came around. I ducked and brought the broadsword up as the ax swept over my head. The soldier grunted in surprise and I slashed at his feet. My blow was harmless but it was enough. The soldier danced out of the way, but the combined weight of his armor and ax threw him off balance. Without hesitation, I kicked my heel into his stomach. He fell on his back and I landed on top of him. Turning my head, I squeezed my eyes shut and stabbed the sword down hard. Something warm and wet splattered across my face. Leaving the sword where it was, buried in the man’s neck or face—I didn’t dare look lest I lose my nerve—I sprang up, snatched my knife out of my belt, and charged the last swordsman.
Romulus had dispatched one of the ax-wielding soldiers and fought a swordsman one-on-one. His blade moved in a whirl but I did not hesitate. I lifted my knife and flung it. It sank into the soldier’s back. He grunted and wavered for a moment. Romulus took advantage of the distraction and thrust his sword into the man’s underarms. The soldier went down on one knee, cursing, but still he lifted his sword. Romulus slapped it away and drove his sword into the soldier’s gut. His body waved back and forth for a second and then fell forward into a bush.
Romulus pulled his sword free, stepped over the body, and yanked out my dagger. Chest heaving, he lifted his arm to wipe sweat off his forehead. When his gray eyes met mine, they were full of questions and there was a darkness behind them. He strode toward me, jaw set, and held out my dagger, hilt first. My stomach soured at the sight of blood dripping off of it, but I ignored the reaction and held Romulus’s gaze.
“I did not know you could fight, and quite well.” His voice came out low and hoarse.
I took the dagger and quickly wiped it clean in the leaves, glad for a reason not to look at Romulus. What was he thinking? Was he pleased, angry, surprised? “I grew up with the centaurs. They trained me as soon as I could walk,” I murmured.
Romulus grunted in reply and then called out. “Takari. They are dead. You may come down now.”
