Curiosity tugs at her shirt, endlessly calling her name. Her curiosity is worse than a child trying to gain its parent's attention. She wants to know what they were like growing up. Especially Fox. She imagines him as a little hellion, getting into all sorts of trouble with his best friend in tow.
Now why is she doing this to herself? She's supposed to be studiously ignoring those beautiful crystalline eyes, muscular abs, and gentlemanly-like behaviour, remember? Day bites her lip. Unfortunately for her, the Commander's mouth is in motion, but his words don't quite register in her busy mind. The sharp pressure brings her attention back to the here and now.
Chancen presents his spiel, oblivious to her inattention. "Are you ready, Day?"
"Huh... Ready for?"
An eyebrow arches upwards. "The incident from yesterday hasn't gone unnoticed. If we don't train your gift you may end up killing someone. Or yourself."
"My gift?" This is like being called upon by a teacher to answer questions on quantum mechanics when one signed up for English literature.
"Yes, your gift. It isn't a common ability. Only a dozen fairies in all of Greythorn have this particular magic, in varying forms of course. I'm here to train you on how to use it safely."
Oh, he's talking about the silver sword I almost decapitated someone with yesterday. "So, I almost kill someone and you call it a gift?"
Chancen's lip twitches, fighting a smile and completely ruining the seriousness of his tone. "Yes, it's an offensive gift, usually coupled with other sight."
Yep, clears everything right up. "But I almost killed someone."
"But you didn't. Skye prevented the tragedy from occurring. Would it comfort you if I recount how I first discovered my magic?" A flash of light follows his words. A long sword manifests in his grip. Its slim blade shines silver, the same ghostly color as the one she held yesterday. Chancen dispels the weapon after a moment.
He sits at the edge of the training ground and pats the earth beside him in invitation. Chacen's fingers absently brush through the short grass, his faraway gaze focusing on the events of the past.
"Fox and I trained under the previous General with a few other young soldiers specially selected for top ranking positions." Chancen breaks off a blade of grass and methodically tears it into tiny pieces. "We were working on multiple attackers, a three on one battle with me being the one. Not my strong suit. I managed to hold my own until a pair rushed at me simultaneously."
Day strains to listen to the haunted whispers.
"I blocked one sword, leaving myself wide open to the second attacker. The metal of his sword flashed in the sun as it headed for my unguarded ribs. I fervently wished for another weapon, something, anything, to defend myself with. My magic manifested in that moment, materializing as Fox stepped in. It pierced through his chainmail and into a lung."
Day gapes, watching events unfold in her imagination. Poor Fox! He sure gets a lot of shit thrown at him!
"I felt lower than dirt afterwards. The healer reached us in time and he survived, obviously. You see, Day, this ability never manifests in convenient ways. It's triggered by strong emotions, mainly stress or anger. And someone always gets hurt in the process."
Fox's eyes wide with the realization of what's happening, unable to do more than sink to the ground, blood seeping through the protective chainmail. He struggles to inhale, breath gurgling wetly, fluid filling the pierced lung.
YOU ARE READING
The Paths of GreythornFantasy
The dream paths, accessed by a chosen few, reveal the most likely future following any given choice. Unfortunately for the human dreamwalker Daystorm, the decisions made by the fairies of Greythorn make her long for the simpler days of sweat-induced...