Wings of Destruction and Duty

16.1 || Orion

Romril's face darkened, he sighed and grabbed Orion's arm to pull him to one side. "Sit."

They had stopped beneath a large overhanging rock to let the worst of the weather blow away. Orion perched on a rock, delighted that was finally giving his feet some time to recoup before they continued on their endless journey towards Alstras.

"You're the prize she's been searching for." He leaned in, his voice a low hiss within the splattering of falling raindrops. "And you might not believe this, but you got away easy when she crushed your eye."

Orion snorted. "Why would I believe that?"

"She could have easily killed you right there and then. The fact that you're here —" Romril waved a hand over Orion's festering eye patch. "Is a testament to the threads of goodwill that run through our queen."

"Oh really?" Orion leaned back onto his heels and glared. "Your queen ripped my eye out. What type of goodwill are you thinking of?"

"Are you forgetting that you're alive?"

Laurel shifted awkwardly behind them. She had taken to hovering just where the rain failed to touch. Her eyes glossed over, deep in thought, and her fingers fiddled with the embroidery on her jacket.

"I'd rather be alive with both of my eyes intact." Orion ignored Laurel's growing discomfort and rounded on Romril with a snarl. But the Dilid's serene visage didn't crack. Instead, the elf smirked and clicked his tongue.

"And now we arrive at the root of the problem." Romril crossed his arms and gestured at Orion flippantly. Laurel ignored him and turned to look out into the thick trees. "The boy child is ungrateful for what he has. That in itself is the reason why you humans are incapable of advancing past the primitive measures you call a society."

"That's not true!" Orion stood and advanced towards the man with a scowl. His heart thrummed with a beat he'd long forgotten about, and while his hands trembled, he relished in the clarity that his anger brought forth. "I've heard stories about the Dilid's refusal to leave their birthplace. If anything, you're exactly like me, clueless and untrained for what the world has to offer."

Romril laughed, then bared his teeth and snarled. There was a crack, and a sharp splintering pain raced up Orion's leg. The boy retched and doubled over in shock.

"How dare you sprout such drivel. The Dilid are leaps and bounds ahead of the festering fools you call you kin." Romril yanked Orion back onto his feet. And his eyes gleamed with a special cruelty when he sensed the fear coursing through Orion's body. "Our queen is gracious, not only are you alive, but she has given you a golden opportunity to contribute to our glory. You better take it."

"Romril, back off. You know we're not supposed to hurt him." Laurel's hand appeared from behind them and pulled the two young men apart. She hissed something in the Dilid tongue, chasing away the residual throbbing left by Romril's temper.

Orion watched as Romril's features sharpened and rippled beneath the dim light. Then he straightened up and dusted off his jacket. "Mind your own business healer."

Laurel stumbled as the man shoved past her with a snarl. She stood dejected, then took a deep breath. Orion was surprised to see that all signs of her previously sunny temperament had vanished. "Bad tempers make for deadly situations. And, I'm a healer, not a necromancer. So for the glory of Vulmar try to get along."

Vulmar? That was a name that failed to stir any memories within Orion's head.

The tiny healer glared at Romril, and Orion smiled to see the once ill mannered man shrank away from her gaze. Then it was his turn to cower when she turned and gently prodded him with her foot. "Romril has a point. Our queen has been strangely lenient with you. Your room might have protected you from curious prodding, but I can assure you that rumours were flying. Especially about your eyes."