The Chronicles Of The Council #1: The Sun's Tears

Chapter 43: Aebbé - Questions

“They always say that curiosity killed the cat, but I have never understood it. We have never had a cat, and if it died, why would I be sad? I do not like cats. I prefer dogs. And how can curiosity kill a cat? It is a concept, not a dangerous, murderous thing.” Not wanting to be left out, Desert nudges me with her neck. “But you are avoiding my questions.”

Caith laughs wholeheartedly. “I am not avoiding them. We just stumbled upon another interesting topic for discussion.” He gives another yawn. “I made a key of water that would fit into the lock. This will also be my main answer for most of your questions.”

“That you made a key out of water?”

“No, that I merely used water to do a lot of the things that you have thought were impossible up to now.”

Perhaps water can be used in a similar way that Lord Hoyt taught me to use fire. Maybe that key he had - the one that looked like it sucked the light from the air - was a key made of fire. If both water and fire could be utilised in previously unimaginable ways, does that mean that there are other types of magic too?

“Can you show me how to do it as well?”

He studies me intently. A frown forms on his forehead. “It is not my place to teach you things such as those.”

“It could annoy my brothers.”

He laughs. “You are correct. That would annoy them immensely.”

“When do we start?”

“I do not agree to impossible tasks. Teaching you would be futile. You don't have a drop of ArBrae blood. Water would never be your friend, especially with the fire in your veins.” A slow sigh escapes his pursed lips. “It is not as simple as just teaching you. You need a claim to nature magic - a claim mostly by blood. The only magic anyone can access without it being their inheritance, is that of Elne-Sitai, but the cost of ancient magic is too much to bear.”

“I've never heard of anything like that. Then, please tell me, what is your claim through blood? How do you, a human, rise to the top in the elves' order?”

Instead of the fuming I expect, he answers with calm resignation. “My claim is one that I can never deny, for it will haunt me to the end of days. Enough of dark magic and curses, I am exhausted from the fight and being up all night, as I am sure you are too. We will rest here for a few hours until noon, and then we will continue our journey to Raven's Peak. There is a loaf of bread in my saddlebag. Is there anything else you require urgently?"

“The answers to my questions.”

“This is apparently a duel I've already lost,” he says with a timid shake of his head. “Try to ask them one at a time, so as not to confuse me. As long as you refrain from questioning my parentage and ancient magic, I'll do my best to answer you truthfully.”

Seeing that my curiosity regarding the mysteries of Caith would not be satisfied today, I commence the interrogation. “How did you know where to find me?”

“I used water.”

When he doesn't elaborate, I prompt him. “That doesn't tell me anything.”

“I told you that would be the answer to most of your questions.” He combs his fingers through his horse's mane, before encountering a knot. His nimble fingers work to untangle it, giving me time to ask the next question.

“How did you get my horse?”

His answer confirms my suspicion. “They sent your horse to Raven's Peak with a letter demanding an impossible ransom.”

“How much was the ransom?” I was right, even though the insanity of them getting my horse to Raven's Peak in less than a day completely baffles me.

“Enough to cause a lot of families to starve for many years to come.”

“How did you get past the guards in the tunnel?” I am at a loss of theories on how he managed to achieve this feat.

“I came in from another entrance.”

Warning bells ring in my suspicious mind. “Why didn't we use that entrance to exit again?”

He rubs his left earlobe between his index finger and his thumb. “It is a very difficult way to use to enter and it is a one way entrance.”

I try to run through the questions in my brain, trying to figure out if I left any out. “Oh, the shackle! How did you break it? Is it a special sword?”

“Yes, it is made of water and gold and can cut through almost anything.”

“Neither water or gold can do that.”

“But it is the combination of the two elements, and how they were combined that gives them this characteristic. Speaking of, you still have the shackle on your ankle. Walk with me to the stream,” he beckons.

The sun has risen up higher, revealing a glint in the narrow silvery stream snaking through the barren land. The distance between the mountains and us is grwater than I had imagined it would be. Last night we made more progress than I would have anticipated. The mountains seem further than two days of riding, but I might be mistaken.

He bends down and scoops the water up into his hands, bringing his hands closer to the shackle without spilling a drop. When there is almost no space between his hands and the shackle, the water starts to move into the keyhole.

I almost jump back in astonishment, remembering almost too late that I should stand still.

When most of the water has flooded the keyhole, the remaining water forms a small handle. Lord Caith grabs this handle and turns. The shackle clicks open and then falls to the ground.

“I believe you about the water-part now, but that doesn't mean you've given me believable answers.”

He picks the shackle up and throws it into the distance. “Maybe.” Turning around, he walks to our horses.

“What about the men we killed with our arrows?”

“Their comrades will take care of them when they pass here.”

Apprehension clutches my throat. There will be more killing before I can be safe.

“Princess, we have to press on for a few more hours. We can rest around midday.”

“Isn't this too much for the horses?”

He shrugs. “They will be fine” '

He doesn't give me an explanation, and I am quite glad that he doesn't. I can only handle a certain amount of indigestible information at a time and I suspect that the horses not tiring have a very non-understandable explanation.

We ride for a few more hours before we halt again, this time at the base of a steep mountain. Caith dismounts and walks to a steep part of the mountain. He sits down with his back against it. With his one hand he pulls his cape out from underneath him and throws it over his head in one fluent movement, folding his arms over his chest. Within one minute I can hear his breath change to equal, deep breaths.

I am more tired than I thought. I take the dress that I wore earlier out of my saddle bag and fold it neatly into a pillow. I lie down on a smooth area of the ground, assuming that it is safe to do so, since Caith is sleeping.

Peaceful tranquility lulls me to sleep, finally allowing reminders of burning flesh and death to finally seep past my mental defenses - unfolding into a nightmare ridden with guilt.