A couple of days dribbled by as Mirthal and Sakshi waited. Every few hours, Mirthal considered asking for his wagon back and leaving—Sakshi no longer considered him a threat as an elf, so he would have been able to leave at any time. But he was loath to return to solitude. Spending time with someone who might be crazy, but wasn't a threat to him, was better than being by himself.
Sakshi only returned to the village for meals and a bed. The two of them ended up spending a lot of time in each other's company, but Sakshi didn't speak much unless it had something to do with her research, her time as a Royal Scholar, or about the terrible the man who took her position. These topics didn't hold Mirthal's interest for long.
She was no Tracou, that was certain.
A man that short was unheard of in the Elven Kingdom. Even women were taller than he was! As if his height wasn't enough, his features were just as strange. His hair was a shock of white, but most important were his eyes—only rarely could you see beyond his irises. The way his pupils expanded and contracted was fascinating. Sometimes when Tracou looked at him his pupils would be round, but when he was actually angry, they turned into slits. He was just... interesting. Fun, too.
But Sakshi was okay. Aside from her weird intensity about stupid things and her bias against elves, she didn't seem like a bad person. She brought him food.
Still, her behavior made it obvious to him why her position had been wrenched from her and given to someone else.
On the third day, an earth shattering whump woke Mirthal. His eyes shot open only to see Sakshi's bag hardly a hair's breadth away from his face.
"Honestly, it's midday. Why are you always sleeping when I first get here?" Sakshi asked.
Mirthal blinked up at her. She stood above him, hands on her hips, the sun trying and failing to make itself known from behind her head. It took a few moments for his mind to catch up with his body and for him to remember her and where he was.
"I was tired," he mumbled.
"Now get up! Let's see what happened to the spade."
With the kind of annoyed and helpless sigh only someone freshly torn from dreamland could make, Mirthal heaved himself upright. The last thing he cared about was a stupid, tiny digging tool. They had done this for the past few days and Mirthal was certain nothing had changed or would ever change. At least when Tracou woke him up, he wasn't trying to prove that cats were secretly made of jade or something equally inane.
Nearly vibrating with excitement, Sakshi led Mirthal over to the yellow splash against the mountain she had created a few nights ago. Mirthal faced it and was technically looking at it, but he didn't absorb any information at all. Beside him, Sakshi went stock still.
"What happened?" she whispered.
"Hm?" Mirthal shook his head and tried again to focus. The spade stood in the same place it had for the past few days, but something was off. There was a convex bump where the spade should have been concave.
In one motion, Mirthal got onto the ground to get a closer look. He grabbed the handle of the spade to pick it up, but it didn't budge even after multiple attempts. Black rock had forced itself through the center of the rusted metal. But there was no hole.
The spade had somehow become part of the mountain.
He didn't know how to react to this information. It seemed unlikely that Sakshi had done this, especially without him noticing. How could this happen?
It was far too early in the day to be thinking about things like this.
Easing downward, Sakshi appeared to be about to sit down next to Mirthal, but she changed her mind at the last second. She wobbled, threatening to topple over. Ultimately, she managed to settle into a squat.
"Do you realize what this means, Mirthal?"
"No."
"Not only are the black peaks moving, but they absorb things as well."
Mirthal placed his elbow on his knee and rested his chin in his palm. Grunting, he shook his head.
"Maybe the mountain didn't move, but the spade went towards the rock?"
Without any hesitation, Sakshi smacked Mirthal on the arm. He flinched and leaned away from her, eyes wide.
"Why did you—?" he tried to ask, but Sakshi cut him off.
"Quiet. Look, you wrote those... Elvish words, didn't you? At the top there was a minuscule amount of space between the letters and the edge of the rock, but now it's gone."
She was right. Mirthal frowned, entirely displeased to find that the red of the first few Elvish characters was against the mountain.
"But! The spade! I thought that the mountain would push it. This is more serious than I thought..." Sakshi paused, rubbing her hands on her knees. "What shall we call it?! I was thinking of calling it terra shift, but this isn't that simple anymore! Maybe... terra absorption? Ah! Or terrassimilation?"
Ignoring Sakshi's increasingly loud ramblings, Mirthal gazed up the side of the massive black stone in front of him again. Maybe it really had moved. Somehow it had inched forward and started to swallow that spade. But what did that mean? Was it isolated to this particular mountain or was it happening throughout Winlea? Could it happen in the Elven Kingdom?
Taking a deep breath, Mirthal ran his fingers through his hair. This silent, lifeless place must be doing more damage to him than he had thought if he was believing something so ludicrous so easily. There had to be another explanation for this. Right? Right.
"Mirthal! Are you listening?!"
He turned to Sakshi and shook his head.
"This has to be happening because of the dezmek. You're a non-human—do you know anything about them?"
The term 'non-human' made Mirthal click his tongue. Elves were certain that they were the people who mattered most, so hearing a human consider elves as simply not human was bizarre. If anything, humans and dezmek were non-elves.
"Don't call me that. But I know a little about them. I met one in Shalen, you see."
"And?"
"He was tiny!"
Sakshi huffed. "And?"
"Hm... He was nice to me. I didn't have any Aodehsh money, so he helped me, even letting me stay in his bed at the inn with him. And he got angry easily, but not like you, he was much cu—"
"Oh!" Sakshi shouted, interrupting him. "Easily angered, hm? That makes sense! One little foray into the greater ocean and they were furious. Perhaps that led them to this mountain scheme..."
"I don't think so. My experience with dezmek has been a lot better than with humans," Mirthal said with a hard edge to his tone.
Sakshi waved her hand dismissively. "You've only met one."
"You haven't met any."
"I don't need to!"
"Why ask me, then?!"
Mirthal stood up, gritting his teeth, and took a few steps away from Sakshi.
Staying in this place was exhausting. The first day had been the most physically miserable day of his entire life. The next two had been okay, particularly since Sakshi hadn't argued with him. But she had started up again and it was not Mirthal's idea of a good time. Elves didn't go up against him like this.
"Listen," she began as she stood up, her knees popping. "We have to go to the capital to report our findings."
"We?"
"Yes, we! You're a witness! The king is going to be sorry he booted me when I return..."
The idea of telling someone important about what they saw was less than appealing. But... it would mean leaving. The capital of Winlea had to be better than that awful village. Maybe people would be friendly instead of attacking him for no reason!
Smiling, Mirthal felt himself relax. Ever since the incident in the village, he had been holding tension in his shoulders without realizing, but now he could let it go.
"So we'll go together?"
"Yes, obviously."
"Okay. Can we go now?"
"No."
Taken aback, Mirthal said nothing.
"We have to clean up, first." She gestured to the odds and ends she had left all over the ground. "And I have to make arrangements with the villagers."
"So... Tomorrow?"
"Yes. Bring my bag over here and we can get started."
Mirthal dutifully did as he was told. The bag was heavier than it looked, somehow, so it took a few tries for him to get it off of the ground. How did Sakshi carry it?
They spent the rest of the day tidying up, which took a lot more time than it should have due to Sakshi's need to completely unpack her bag before packing it up with all of the extra items. Watching her do this was more baffling than frustrating. She refused to let him help her pack, so at least he wasn't participating.
That night Mirthal sat, wrapped in the fur coats he and Tracou had bought in Shalen, and stared at the fire he had made. The days were chilly, but the nights were steadily becoming intolerable. The moon was taking its monthly break, so he was especially dependent on the light from his fire.
This wasn't how he had imagined his grand adventure. Before he left, he had pictured something more exciting, more glamorous. That's how stories normally went. He should have met up with a group of misfits, joined them, saved a maiden or two, defeated some evil-doers... those sorts of things. There didn't seem to be any outright villains around, but he could have at least gathered some friends by now. Sakshi wasn't exactly his friend. A spade embedded into some rock wasn't a foe to defeat, either.
Maybe he had missed his chance. He let Tracou go off by himself and with him went his chances at having an adventure.
Mirthal rubbed his face with his hands. Luckily, he would leave in the morning. Anywhere had to be better than here. Then, after that, he could go to Dezmer and find Tracou.
That soothing thought in his mind, Mirthal stood up to get to bed. He then froze.
Five horses ambled along in the distance. Men spoke to each other in hushed tones. One of them sounded like the bearded man who had launched himself at Mirthal a few days ago—the sound of his voice made Mirthal's stomach clench.
Mirthal kicked dirt onto the fire until it went out. It was late; there was no good reason why there should be so many men riding at night, especially this close to the black peaks. If they weren't looking for him, then they would pass by with no problems. If they were looking for him, he didn't want to make it easy for them. Standing around would draw attention, of course, so he got down on the ground between the horses, covering himself head to toe with the furs.
There was a pause in the horses' movements when they spotted white fur of his horses. Heart racing, Mirthal moved his hand to that his palm was flat against the fur coat he held around him. If he had to, he could at least make a shield.
The group approached slowly. Mirthal stayed as still as he possibly could, even holding his breath.
What was going on? They had to be here to attack him—there was no other reason they would be here. What could he do if they just descended on him? Just being on the ground was a disadvantage.
The men dismounted. They were chatting lightly, as though they were out on a morning stroll. It didn't sound like they had spotted him.
They came closer. One of them started to untie Mirthal's horses' bridles from the low branch he had tied them to. That was not something Mirthal could abide. If they took his horses he would be back to walking.
Mirthal channeled some magic into the fur he had on top of him, solidifying it as much as he could. This type of magic, just enhancing an object's attributes, was the easiest.
He took his chance, leaping up so quickly that he startled the men. There were, indeed, five of them. One of them was the bearded man, but the others were new to him. He hadn't seen them in the village, but he hadn't gotten a good look at many of the humans there. They were strapping men, likely farmers.
Before he could do anything other than gawk at the men in front of him, they moved, seeking to trap Mirthal between them, the horses, and the tree. The horses, spooked by the sudden surge in aggression, heaved themselves onto their legs and tried to get away. But they were still tied to the tree and only added to the chaos, their frenzied whinnies mixing with the human's shouting.
In the confusion, the bearded man tried to hit Mirthal, but he hit the fur instead.
Which cracked.
Ice sloshed in Mirthal's veins. He'd made the fur too hard; it was brittle. A brittle shield was of no use to him. Another impact would make it shatter.
Before he could think better of it, Mirthal braced himself behind his cracked shield and charged into the man. He managed to knock the man back into one of his friends and they both fell onto the ground. The fur crumbled.
The other men rushed to those that had fallen, hoisting them up with concerned faces. They spoke heated words to each other. Mirthal inched backward towards his horses, so he could untie them and... and what? He couldn't ride them. But he couldn't leave them here, either.
The men had recovered. Most of them stood back, but the bearded man approached Mirthal. His body was relaxed, as though he was going to greet a friend.
Maybe he was going to apologize. Maybe they had realized he wasn't a threat, somehow, and were going to apologize for scaring him in the night.
Now in front of him, the bearded man grinned and pulled his fist back. Mirthal watched this, not quite understanding what was happening until that fist collided with his jaw. He staggered backwards, putting a hand to his jaw. This human had just punched him in the face!
Standing proudly, the bearded man cracked his knuckles. His friends were talking to him, speaking rapidly. None of them would be satisfied by one measly punch.
Mirthal's heart was racing. A fight. But it was only one man. Multiple men could destroy Mirthal easily. One might be possible to win against.
The bearded man smirked at him. He shifted his weight onto his left foot which was the only warning Mirthal got before he struck again. This time, Mirthal held his arms up and managed to block the hit. It still hurt, but it was much better than getting hit in the face.
Mirthal tried to punch the man, but had timed it poorly and the man dodged it.
The adrenaline coursing through him dulled the pain in his jaw. He mimicked the stance of the man, holding both of his arms up with his fists around chin level. Instead of facing him normally, he stood with his feet apart, one foot in front of the other.
Again, the man's fist darted towards his face, but Mirthal blocked it and immediately went after the bearded man. He smashed his fist into the side of the bearded man's nose, making him cry out and reel in pain.
Mirthal had hit him! He couldn't keep his satisfaction out of his face as he watched the bearded man recover, holding his nose.
Then he saw the blood dripping down the bearded man's upper lip.
A beat went by as everyone, Mirthal included, took in the bearded man's broken nose.
Then the other men launched themselves at him—one assigned to each limb. They weren't trying to hit him, Mirthal realized with shock. They were trying to restrain him. Mirthal struggled to free his arms from their grip, but he couldn't.
Elves didn't have the same kind of strength that humans did.
Slowly, the bearded man stood. He glowered at Mirthal, hatred in his eyes, blood covering his mouth and soaking into his beard. A glint near his right hand drew Mirthal's gaze to it.
A knife.
Mirthal thrashed wildly. A fight with fists was one thing, one thing that might not kill him. A knife meant death. He kicked anyone who came close enough, but the men restraining him endured it and others joined to make sure he couldn't move.
The knife and the man carrying it moved behind Mirthal.
He was going to die. A blade was going to pierce his skin and he was going to bleed to death. The current dynasty would end with him dying out in the middle of Winlea. Why hadn't he gone with Tracou? Even returning home with Pendaer was better than this.
But Mirthal didn't feel the sting of the knife. Instead, the man grabbed his hair, yanking his head back. Mirthal inhaled sharply through his teeth.
No, the man had no intention of killing Mirthal. He sawed through his hair with the knife, making Mirthal squirm and wince.
It felt like hours had passed before it was finished. The men let go of him all at once, making Mirthal stumble from suddenly having to support himself. Now finished, most of the men walked over to their horses, snickering. Only the bearded man remained. Sneering at Mirthal, his nose bent the wrong way, he held Mirthal's hair up so he could see it. Mirthal's hand went to the back of his neck, shuddering when he found it bare. His hair only went down to his chin, now.
The man said something to him, but Mirthal couldn't understand it. His hair. They had cut off so much of his hair.
Both sides did nothing for a time, but the man's friends called to him. In one last act of defiance, the man spat at Mirthal's feet and went to join the other men. He never let go of the hair.
Mirthal shakily sat down in the dirt, still feeling at the back of his head. Without his hair, he felt almost naked.
What would happen when he went back home with hair this short? It would take so long to grow back. He must look hideous—what kind of elf had short hair? Pointed ears and height were elf traits that they couldn't control, but keeping their hair long was something they could.
That man might not have wounded him, but it would be a long time before Mirthal could forget what he had done to him. Tears pricked at the edges of his eyes.
He didn't go back to sleep that night.
The next morning, Sakshi found him still sitting there. He flinched when he saw her. A significant part of him wanted to hide from her and everyone else so no one could see what had happened. It wasn't like he could hide for a while and have his hair grow back, though, so ultimately he didn't move.
She took one look at him and set her bag down, rummaging through it.
"The man who did this to you is bragging about it in the village. He's convinced that an elf's hair is the source of their power. Is it?"
Mirthal scoffed. "That's ridiculous."
Nodding, Sakshi produced some shears from her bag. "It's uneven. Want me to straighten it for you?"
"No. Do you have a mirror in that bloated bag of yours?"
"I do," she chirped, pulling a small mirror from the bag.
Taking the mirror from her, Mirthal looked at himself. His face fell. Before, his hair had gone down to his thighs. Seeing it so short was painful and Mirthal couldn't look at it for long. Only children had hair like this. It had been cut roughly, too, making one side longer than the other. Hideous.
When he returned to the Elven Kingdom, he was going to have to explain what happened to his hair. It would take years to get it to the length it had been. If the cut hadn't made his ears even more prominent than before, Mirthal could have passed for an abnormally tall human.
His hair had already been cut. A trim wouldn't hurt, now. He shouldn't let what that man did show to the point that Mirthal left his hair looking ragged.
"Actually, please make it straight."
"Leave it to me."
After Sakshi finished fussing over his hair, they left. Sakshi sat at the front of the wagon, silently directing the horses, while Mirthal lied on his stomach in the back, his head buried in his arms.
Anything would be better than staying by the mountains. Just knowing that his hair was somewhere in the village, being used for who knew what, made his stomach churn.