Episode 1: Reunion
Written by: Auraboo
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The sudden breeze made Luzem let out the most inelegant sneeze known to elvenkind.
It was not that he was unaccustomed to the cold. Winters had often been cold and humid where he’d spent his formative years and teenagehood, and the thin smattering of powdery snow on the ground was nothing to the snowbanks of his hometown during the darkest months. It was simply that he was not quite dressed for the sudden change in the weather: days on the road tended to blur one’s sense of time, and he’d been on his latest commission for a month too many.
He sheathed the brand-new shortsword, its weight a familiar comfort against his hip. The gold from the mission had been enough to leave him a little extra to survive on until he found the next gig, even after getting his banged up weapon replaced. It had taken nearly ten years of guard duties, mercenary gigs and border patrol missions of varying levels of danger until his old, chipped sword, some musty old memento from his mother’s side, had finally received one crack too many and died valiantly in service. There had not been an ounce of magic in the blade – too valuable to hand out willy-nilly for such mundane work, his mother had declared – nor in any other heirloom of hers that had ever passed his hands.
Luzem sighed and pulled the fur-trimmed cloak more firmly around himself, or tried to. He was rather taller than the locals, tall even for an elf, and the cloak’s previous owner had been decidedly mortal based on the proportions.
Daylight was waning fast, a sure sign that it was not long until winter truly settled in. It was a bad sign. It was too late in the year to make the trek to the next town over without anyone to watch his back, and not even an elf was foolish enough to travel cross-country alone with winter riding at his heels. The roads were safe, but inns were few and far between, and not all wildlife slumbered during the long dark months.
What he most needed, he decided, was a roof over his head, a bath and two warm meals a day. He made some calculations in his head, sighing again as the realities settled in. One of the cheaper inns at the edge of the town would have to do if he wanted his budget to last in the event of another delayed spring. He went over what remained of his shopping list and headed across a cozy little townsquare towards the illuminated windows of the merchants’ quarters. A proper wintercoat and a warm pair of boots, and he’d welcome the new season with slightly less apprehension.
When he left the cobbler’s an hour later his wallet a new pair of boots lighter, the goods themselves carefully wrapped in paper. In a sudden strike of mercy the fates had blessed him with a merchant used to dealing with taller folk and he had, for once, found a ready pair in the cobbler’s wares that had been a good enough fit for him.
He clutched the boots under his arm, thinking longingly of a warm room and a proper night’s sleep in proper sheets. The outdoors he liked; it was damp bedrolls and smoking campfires that he was growing rather sick off. He pushed into the thinning crowd headed towards the entrance of town, head bent in the biting wind.
There were people of all sizes and statures in the crowd, humans, dwarf-folk, halvlings and everything in-between, all with frost-bitten cheeks and bodies wrapped in thick cloaks against the evening chill. Luzem focused on keeping his satchel safe from sticky fingers, barely watching where he was going. He turned a corner, eyes streaming, and nearly lost his balance on the slippery cobblestones when someone collided with him.
They both let out a squeak, struggling to remain on their feet. The boots fell as Luzem grabbed the stranger’s arm, steadying them.
”Sorry! I should’ve paid more attention,” he hastened to say, then blinked, stunned into silence. He’d walked into another elf, another full-blooded one by the looks of it, her silvery hair shimmering like frost in the torchlight. Strange markings covered her Woodland-dark face. When she winced Luzem realised he was still gripping her arm. He let go and blurted out, ”sorry, I didn’t mean… Just, sorry. Are you all right?”
She stared at him, eyes widening and the crease between her brows disappearing. ”What?”
He was starting to feel like he knew the answer already, but repeated anyway, ”I asked, are you all right?”
”Sure.” She drew out the word with the air of someone who had not heard a word he’d just said, scanning his face with almost uncomfortable scrutiny.
Luzem scrambled to pick up his fallen boots and stuffed them back in their now damp wrappings. He tried for a smile as he straightened, which withered just as quickly. She was still staring him down, unblinking, and he suddenly felt the impulsive need to make a run for it. He stepped around her, not daring to turn his back to her, and said airily, ”well, don’t let me keep you, miss. Good evening.”
He’d not made it to the next corner before he heard someone running, rapid footsteps thundering down the street, and a voice screaming as it came closer, ”Luzem!”
Someone yanked at his sleeve none too gently. This time he did lose his balance as he wheeled around, landing painfully on his back. His belongings went flying. The same woman was clutching at his front, a rather wild look on her face.
”Luzem, it’s me!” she exclaimed so urgently that some passersby turned to look. Luzem tried to focus his gaze on her when she tugged at his coat again. ”You’re Luzem, aren’t you? You remember me, don’t you?”
He sat up rather labouriously, shaking snow off his hair. The impact had knocked the air straight out his lungs. She was still looking at him imploringly, almost expectantly.
”We… Do we know each other?” he managed, wheezing lightly as he got to his feet.
Her expression faltered as she took in his open-mouthed confusion, but only momentarily. ”Hang on,” she said, scooped snow between her cupped palms and washed her face with it, with utter disregard to the hundreds of pairs of feet that must have trod in it throughout the day. She dried her face with her sleeve, the painted markings gone; even in the twilight there was no mistaking the Woodland colouring.
There were not many Woodlanders he’d known in his life, none since… He shook his head, then did a double-take when she, too, got back up. The tawny face, the silver hair, the amber eyes, the unruly smattering of freckles across her cheeks. He saw a ghost of his own smile at the curve of her lips, so alike to his father’s, though he’d not seen either in decades. He’d always taken after mother, but they both had their father’s eyes.
It was then that he recognised the face paint, too: druidic symbols. She’s carried on in father’s footsteps.
Luzem’s tone betrayed a hint of disbelief when he said, ”sis? Tariya? That you?”
She grinned. It turned into a squeal when he pulled her into a bone-crushing bear-hug, easily lifting her off her feet. He spun her around once, laughing wildly.
”How in the name of… Gods, it’s good to see you!” he said, still laughing as he set her down. ”It’s been, Bear Father’s name, I don’t even know how many years!”
To her credit she didn’t look one bit unruffled. She now had to tilt back her head to look him in the eye; last time it had been the other way around.
”You got big,” Tariya noted, eyes moving up and down. Luzem smiled wider, practically glowing. He was all sun colours, honey-coloured skin and long ginger hair. It was strange that even now an echo of her memories lingered on his face, though the childish roundness was long gone. Her eyes paused on the sword at his hip. ”What do you do nowadays?”
”This and that. There always tends to be work somewhere for a ready sword-hand,” he admitted a tad sheepishly. It was a far cry from what mother had envisioned for him. ”I’m not too picky if it pays for a warm bunk and a roof over my head. What of you?”
”I get by,” she said, then asked, ”and mother?”
Luzem’s expression shuttered at once. His voice hitched slightly when he answered, ”gone.”
”Gone?”
”Not in the way you think. I… I don’t think she ever did feel at home in the west. Her family did not make either of us feel welcome – I suppose she wanted to believe otherwise, until faced with the truth.”
For an instant the air between them was heavy with unsaid things, with unpleasantries they’d grown up hearing their parents hurling at one another when they thought their children weren’t listening. One of the highborn eloping with a Woodlander, a druid, no less, into some faraway wilderness convent might have made for a good story among the woodwellers, but in the west it was a scandal.
”What happened?” Tariya asked finally.
”Made one bad deal too many. I left. When devils start dealing with the vengeful there’s no going back.” Luzem had lowered his voice on instinct, but he could still not help casting around a furtive glance to ensure no curious bystanders were listening. ”What about father? Is he all right?”
The grim look in her eyes was all the answer he needed. She said, ”there is a grave, in the grove. In case you want to visit one day.”
He did not find his voice immediately. ”Perhaps.”
They picked up his things in silence. More light, powdery snow had started to fall from the skies, turning the air icy. Luzem shuddered. The wind seemed to go straight through all the layers he was wearing.
”Are you not cold?” he asked Tariya, who shrugged. She was not even wearing gloves, and her clothes, while weather-appropriate, had clearly seen better days.
”I’m used to the outdoors. Where are you off to next?”
”I was looking for a place to stay when I ran into you, actually.” He rolled his shoulders, wincing when something popped unpleasantly. It had been a long day of a long week. ”Are you staying somewhere nearby?”
”The woods aren’t that far away. I’ll find a sheltered copse somewhere.”
Luzem stared at her. She stared right back. ”In this weather? You’re joking.”
”I know how to stay warm.”
”I’m not leaving you out to sleep in the cold. Come on, we’ll find a room somewhere together.”
”Towns are noisy. I only came in to—” Tariya paused, for Luzem sneezed loudly, twice, just then, and old instincts won over. She wound her arm around his, pulling him along, and said briskly, ”actually, a warm room sounds great. Just perfect. Where do we go?”
”Uh, well…” He found the wallet in his pocket. For all that Highlanders boasted about the safety of their wealthy cities, living in the west had instilled a fear of pickpockets in him. ”I was thinking something cheap on the outskirts of town. I’m sort of on a budget.” He coughed, feeling uncomfortable all of a sudden. ”If you’ve the money, I don’t mind splitting the cost for a night, though.”
The look she fixed him was as politely puzzled as a housecat’s. ”Money? What’s that?”
It was then that Luzem knew he was in for a very long evening.
Melting snow had left Luzem’s hair wet when he opened the door to his room in a cramped, but undeniably cosy little inn an hour later. The rat sitting on his shoulder shook herself vigorously as soon as he’d latched the door behind them; real familiars would have minded weather or temperature little, but she was no apparition, and the moisture in her silver fur was very real.
She squeaked, little beady eyes fixed at Luzem, and he held out his hand.
”You want down?” he asked. She squeaked again, scuttling down his arm towards the bed frame, fleshy little tail waggling. She climbed up, hopped once and landed on the made bed with a soft little thump.
Luzem groaned, setting down his overstuffed backpack on the only, and rather threadbare, armchair in the room. He heard the bedsprings creak suddenly, and once he glanced over his shoulder Tariya was sitting on the top bunk, exactly where the rat had been moments ago, her hair glistening with moisture.
”It’s been a while. I don’t take that form very often,” she said, stretching the worst stiffness off her arms.
”Why not?”
”Too many animals look at you and see an easy meal. It’s a lot of work to convince them to look for food elsewhere.” She accepted the slightly flattened bag Luzem dug out of his rucksack. She had few belongings, but a second bag would still have attracted too many questions at the front desk when reserving a single room for a traveller and his familiar.
There was no lower bunk, just open floorspace clearly meant for animals. Where the top bunk had an actual mattress, on the floor there was just a thin straw mattress with a blanket or two and some cushions thrown on. He pulled off his boots and tested the mattress gingerly with a foot, nodding his approval when nothing spilled out.
”I can sleep there,” Tariya offered, but Luzem shook his head.
”I’m too tall to fit up there,” he said, pointing at the edges of the bed. ”There’s more space to stretch my limbs on the floor.”
”You sure?”
”All I want is a heated room and easy access to warm meals. The rest is optional.”
Tariya got a fire going while Luzem spread his bedroll on the floor and set his damp things to dry. The room was just as cramped as the rest of the inn, with barely enough room for the two of them to turn around, but everything was spotlessly clean and there wasn’t a hint of the sort of unpleasant draftiness he’d often endured in cheaper, shabbier inns during his many years on the road. His stomach gurgled loudly as he set the sword to lean against the bed and thought longingly of supper.
”I’ll smuggle something up here for you to eat,” Luzem said, straightening. Eating together in the dining hall downstairs was out of the question if they wanted to keep Tariya’s existence a secret from the matron.
”No need,” Tariya replied. She tossed another log in the fireplace, looking satisfied as the flames claimed it within seconds.
”Did you bring something with you?”
”I prefer to travel light.” She pushed back the curtains and peered down on the courtyard. Snow flurries went fluttering past the windows, obscuring the silhouette of the town.
Luzem frowned. ”You need to eat. I promise I’ll be back soon, all right? Do you want the wild game stew or the oven roast?”
”I didn’t say I was planning to go hungry, Luz.” He blinked, not having heard the nickname in decades. To his astonishment Tariya unlatched the window, a calculating look on her face. Her nose twitched. ”Don’t close the window.”
”What are you—”
Before he’d finished the sentence she had screwed up her face in concentration, and as soon as he blinked she was gone. In her place stood a small white stoat. He watched, mouth agape, as she scuttled up on the sill, glanced down once and vanished in one flick on a tail. Luzem rushed to the window. The stoat climbed down the brickwall like a long, fluffy spider with too few legs without any visible effort and landed silently in the snow, disappearing from view.
”At least warn me first,” he muttered weakly and threw himself on the arm chair. ”This is the third floor.”
It took perhaps ten minutes until he was alerted by the sound of tiny nails scraping against the wall. A furry head popped into view, nostrils flaring as the stoat breathed heavily, a sack of something clutched in her mouth. She made a laboured huff and Luzem stood up, understanding. He took the sack from her and she climbed back in.
”I’m not going to ask how you managed that,” he said wearily. The sack was bigger than the stoat was; opening it revealed a loaf of bread, cold meats and a wedge of hard cheese.
Tariya was panting lightly as she shifted back, her hair plastered to her forehead with water. She pushed the window shut and latched it once more.
”Where did you even get all this? And without money?”
”They hadn’t cleaned all the market stalls,” Tariya supplied, as though explaining the obvious. She shook herself with all the mannerism of a wet dog, took the sack from him and sat down in front of the fire, looking very satisfied with herself. ”Weren’t you going to get supper?”
”I… Sure. Yes. Supper.” He gestured at her helplessly. ”You sure you don’t want me to bring you anything else?”
”I’m good, thanks. I have everything I need.”
She was already stuffing herself with obvious enjoyment. Luzem shook his head, took the room key and headed downstairs.
It was decidedly strange, Luzem concluded after they’d doused the lanterns, to lay in the dark and be able to hear the slow and steady breathing of another. It was not a luxury he’d enjoyed very often after leaving his mother and the western lands behind. He rarely worked alone, but true companionship, the kind that lasted once the job was done and the payment accounted for, was something he admitted to sorely missing since his boyhood years. Severing ties with family had meant leaving them behind, too.
In the upper bunk Tariya yawned. Sheets rustled as she shifted, seeking a more comfortable position.
”Hey, sis?”
More rustling. Her hair was hanging loose in messy waves as she glanced down at him over the edge of the bed, eyes elven-bright in the dim emberlight radiating from the fireplace. ”Yeah?”
”Is it weird? Not being in the grove anymore?”
She shrugged. ”Not really. I always felt like it wasn’t really all that, you know. Nature is out there, not within the safety or the boundaries of the grove.” Her words had grown firmer, more resolute the more she spoke, the roughness of disuse disappearing little by little. ”Do you remember any of it?”
”Yeah.” He stared unseeing at the bunk above. The dappled light filtering between the leaves, the wind rustling in the treetops, the hymns in the night, the scents of the earth and the rain, and the spring water against his skin. The pebbles underneath his bare feet as he waded in the river, someone’s bigger, firmer hands in his. ”The silence, mostly. It’s never properly quiet in a city, not the way it was in the grove.”
”It’s not supposed to be like that,” Tariya said, head resting against her crossed arms. ”The woods are never truly quiet, unless something’s badly amiss.”
Luzem found her eyes in the dark, so much like his own that he could almost fool himself into thinking the long years apart had never happened, that he was still six and running through the meadows after her. He felt a lump in his throat and said a tad hoarsely, ”I missed you, you know.”
She blinked. When she spoke again her voice was softer, quieter. ”Yeah. Me, too.”
There was a long silence. It wasn’t uncomfortable; there simply was no need to say anything more, for all that mattered was already out in the open.
”What are you going to do next?” he asked finally.
”I don’t know. You?”
”I could use a break. Work has been… Well, everything has been a lot. I’m tired.” Of people. Of blood and hurt and cold, uncaring strangers. ”I don’t really have a plan.”
Tariya hummed in contemplation, eyes on the dying embers. ”You could come with me.”
”Yeah?”
”Yeah.”
Their eyes met again and some part of the weight that had settled firmly on Luzem’s shoulders seemed just a touch lighter for it. He managed a smile. ”Yeah. I think I’d like that.”