Page 59 of Aofie's Quest
Now, it was that much harder to say no, to walk away, when I’d spent months in Anon Loam, hoping for a kiss, an embrace, something to take me beyond the naivety of not knowing what it felt like to experience physical affection. Desire moved through me like magic, stronger than any spell. And as it did, Romulus’s warning rang back, strong and clear.Mark my words, he helped you so you would feel sorry for him and he could have a power over you—perhaps not now, but later, when it benefits him.
But no, Romulus was wrong. Adomos was different. He was part angel, not a demon. “Is that why you came out of hiding?” The words came out in a rush.
“It is. You spoke of revenge, I spoke of forgiveness, but you are right. The gods and goddesses have lost hope for Labraid. The land is wild, dangerous, and it is better for me to do something and die than to hide in misery the rest of my life.”
“Will you help me?” I asked. “Should my meeting with the defenders go wrong, will you help me get to Dun’Gilly?”
“Interesting, that you wish to go there,” he mused. “I am bound to you in a way. If you wish it, we will go there, after we find Jezebel.”
“There’s something you need to know.” I held up the sword, still wrapped in fabric. “When I left the elven, I stole a magical weapon that answered to my call. I’d like to ask you what you know of it.”
He waited while I undid the fabric. My fingers shook and a wave of dizziness passed over me. The hum was stronger, much stronger as I unveiled the sword. Adomos’s eyes widened as he stared at it and backed away. The red hue shone on his face, turning his eyes red, evil, and for the first time fear twisted through me.
“Where did you get that?” His voice was low, hoarse, strangled.
A strange hue emanated from the sword. On the blade, I made out faint words written in spidery handwriting, perhaps in an ancient language. The blade was wide with a slanted end, and I assumed the magic within made it feel lighter than it actually was. My fingers closed around the hilt, which burned into the palm of my hand as I stared into the abyss of its beauty. Dimly the voice called out to me, somber, demanding, asking me to do its will. The voice was both inside me and outside of me, and a sudden craving made my stomach twist. A powerful thirst, a longing, a vicious need. My body trembled with the want of it, to heed the fall, to follow, to be fulfilled as soon as I obeyed the sacred duty it called me to.
“Aofie! Cover it!”
Adomos’s urgent demand sliced through my vision, drawing me back into the dark wood with him. I blinked, glimpsing his face, twisted and contorted. Quickly I wrapped the sword back in the fabric, kneeling to place it on the ground. I bowed my head so he wouldn’t see how close I’d come to losing control. It took all of my strength not to unfold the fabric and stare at the sword again. When I’d mastered my breathing, I rose and faced him.
“I took the sword from the elven, because it belongs to me. My mother wanted me to use it to save the kingdom of men from the angel of death, but I was warned against it. Do you know why?”
Adomos’s expression went flat. “To wield the red sword is to become the master of death. I’ve heard of this sword, but only in legend. It is the only blade that fights both for its master and against it, seeking its own freedom. It is a slayer sword, drawn to death and bloodshed and mayhem. Those who have carried it have brought chaos and destruction to Labraid. There was a reason it was hidden, passed out of legend, impossible to destroy. If you wish to carry such a weapon, you must not let it control you. You said you learned magic.”
I nodded.
“Then use it, and only use the sword when you are in dire need.”
I nodded again, wondering what the legends were, wondering who else had taken up the sword and been seduced by its voice. I wondered if I’d made a mistake in taking it, instead of listening to Takari’s warning. In doing so, I’d alienated the elven, destroyed a potential home, and yet I couldn’t forget that Romulus, furious as he was, had been encouraged when he saw the sword. Why? What reason did he have for me to carry it?
“Do you think I shouldn’t use it?” I asked Adomos, unable to stomach the idea that my actions displeased him.
“Hm.” He grunted and stroked his chin. “I recommend that you practice resisting the sword, but it is fortunate you brought it here. When the blade is revealed, other beings with magic will be aware of its presence and drawn to it. Many have sought the sword, but hidden behind the magic of the elven, they have been unable to find it. Now it will attract the one we seek. Jezebel.”
I gasped and lifted the sword again. “You think she will come here because she senses magic?”
He nodded his agreement.
He did not mince words and rarely spoke unless something needed to be said. When he did, he said what was needed and moved on, leaving me to infer the rest.
“Do you believe we are ready to face her? Now?”
“Not yet. We need a better location that gives us higher ground, a place where we can hide and surprise her. The element of surprise is what will allow us to defeat her.”
Hope swelled in my chest, mixed with the fear of seeing my old enemy again and fighting alongside Adomos.
“You should return to your friends. I want to hunt, track. I’ll rejoin you before dawn.”
“Promise you won’t leave me,” I said, holding his gaze.
He placed his hand on his heart. “I promise.”
Chapter Forty-Nine
Adomos was both thereand not there as we traveled deeper into the wood, into the Crystal Forest. During the evenings, he claimed to hunt and scout ahead, but he did not walk with us during daylight, perhaps out of respect for the horses and the feelings of my companions. Takari flinched at each sound while Romulus rode ahead, bow in hand, a fierce scowl often darkening his face. Adomos was right. Despite my sense of wanting to do the right thing, I could not figure out the words to say to make amends. I struggled with wanting them to travel with me and yet wishing Adomos would show his face more often. I wanted more than just the reassurances when we made camp that he hadn’t left me behind, although I thought it might be much easier if he did.
On the morning of the fourth day since meeting Adomos, a tinkling sound awoke me. At first it sounded like I was back in Anon Loam, feasting in the Hall of the Queen, goblets clinking together as the elves feasted. But nay, I was in the Crystal Forest, where slender white trees rose, their buds appearing like translucent glass while the ground seemed to pebble with crushed jewels.
