Fugitive (sequel to Becoming Atlantian)

Fugitive - Chapter 13

Two weeks had passed in quick succession. However, to Aubrey, the days almost felt unending. Merlin was relentless with his training and his sharp tongue. Her body and her ego had taken a lashing each and every day. No matter what she achieved, in his eyes, it was never good enough. It was demoralising. Aubrey knew his actions were born from the need and desire to go home but it didn't make it hurt any less. She was trying, trying too hard. She was pushing herself harder than she ever had before and she was starting to feel the strain.

"Can we please rest now?" Aubrey begged, pushing herself up from the damp earth.

Her entire body ached. Over and over again she has been tossed and thrown about by pure energy. Each time had resulted with a hard smack on to the unyielding floor. Aubrey knew if she were to look beneath her clothes, her entire body would be covered in bruises. Even Atlantian healing could only do so much and it would take time for them to heal away.

Merlin snorted and shook his head. For a moment, Aubrey was sure the man was going to say something scathing. Yet, it didn't come. Instead he abruptly turned his head up to the sky, his eyes closing as he did so. His hands, which had been hanging limply at his sides, turned so that his palms were also facing upwards. His fingers moved ever so slowly as if feeling the currents moving through the air. A frown formed between his brows.

Aubrey drew in a deep breath and allowed her heart to slow. As they had practiced over the weeks, she sought the energy outside of herself in an attempt to see what Merlin was seeing. There was something there – a tremor in the energy around them. Before Aubrey could latch on to it Merlin clapped his hands together. The abrupt sound cut through her concentration and the wisp vanished from her grasp.

"It's time for us to move on." Merlin announced dismissively.

The red head blinked up at her mentor. Maybe she had just hit her head a little bit too hard? Every request to get off the god forsaken field had been met with denials. And now he suddenly wanted to vacate?

When his expression did not change, she closed her mouth. "Why the sudden change of heart?"

"No questions. Get packed up, we need to leave." Merlin barked at her. When she didn't immediately spring into action, he flicked his hand in her direction. A second later she felt a sting in her left buttock. "That means now."

Rubbing at her behind, Aubrey scowled at him before striding off. The man certainly wasn't afraid to cause a little bit of pain to get his way. The red head couldn't help but wonder how far he would go. Everything seemed secondary to Merlin's desire to get home. Yet he was Merlin. He was a legend. There was no way he would go too far in his pursuit to get home. He would never stoop to the levels that the Matriarch has liked to employ – would he?

Aubrey didn't like the way that doubt flooded through her mind.

She hated to admit it – even to herself - but there was something that just didn't sit right. Maybe it was just his attitude. Aubrey would keep her guard up. Tiberius was relying on her to get him out. She wouldn't let him suffer any more than he already had due to her failures. He had risked himself for her and she would never forget that.

There wasn't much to pack at the campsite. The fire was put out and the shelter was dismantled but as it was naturally sourced, it was easy enough to scatter the remnants. Once they were done, the only sign they had been there was the scorched earth from the heat of the fire, and the uneven patch of dirt on the edge of the far off treeline. Aubrey's stomach knotted. She could still the moment the man's life had been extinguished. It replayed over and over again in her head. It would never matter that he had been a bad man. His death had been murder. There was no fight. Merlin had taken his life without even a flinch. It haunted her dreams and she hadn't even been the one to make the killing blow.