Live Free

Editor: Dazmine

*

Saron's getting on my nerves again, spouting off about his own cruel misfortune. "This is garbage. They only send me away like this because I make'em nervous." I've been listening to him drone on for some days, a captive audience to his belly-aching. "You would think that the guys trained to track would do the tracking, not me. I'm trained for long marches yeah, but I'm no expert at findin' the assholes they love sendin' me to find."

"We're still hot on his trail, it's not like you need to be an expert to follow someone who camps next to a fire each night." Our quarry hasn't been keeping his camping sites too well hidden. He might not even be aware that there's someone who wants him dead. "The only real crime about sending us all the way out here, is that we aren't getting paid more than our standard wage for it."

Saron raises a brow at that, "Are you fer'real? I didn't even know that, thought we'd claim some bounty when we brought 'is head back!" It seems I've given him more to whinge about, lovely.

I decide to change the subject before he can sand down my composure any further. "How is it that you make the commander nervous?"

"It ain't 'im who's jimmies I rustle. It's the constable's. He's always worried when he knows I got coin to spend, jus' cause I sometimes have a little too much fun." He says with an imp's grin. "Him and the commander are buddies ya see, and he'll use whatever connections he's got to send me away for as long as he can." I can't say I blame him, he probably doesn't mind locking Saron up, not as much as he minds having to watch him.

I point westward, "Look, our boy's lit another fire and we're actually close enough to get to it before dark this time. You ready?"

Saron places a hand on the hilt of his straight-sword. "Killin' men is all I'm any good at. Pffft, you ready?" He says mockingly.

Endearing as ever. A silent fifteen minute walk and we find ourselves staring at a rough campsite from the treeline. The fire is low. Our mark is likely out collecting firewood, which is ideal for setting up our ambush. "I need you to set up by the pines closest to the fire pit. I'll try to reason with him when he returns, but if that falls through... I think you know that scenario pretty well."

"Scenario? That some foreign word? We ain't all know how to read, jackass." I just want to deal with this guy before dark.

"Gods. Kill him if he doesn't take to a peaceful surrender you buffoon." I have little patience left for Saron after the last few days spent with him. Once I see that Saron has moved to the position I indicated, I stride into the area surrounding the firepit, and take a seat. Several minutes go by, almost half an hour in fact before I spot my quarry walking out of the brush and towards the fire. Sticks under one arm, bag in the other. Darkness has overtaken the small clearing that we're in, and the only real light is coming from the very low fire.

He finally makes it to the other side of the fire pit, and begins to speak; "It's easy to kill a man while he sits."

Wow, right out of the gate with a threat, not to mention that there's something off about his voice. "I don't think you'd kill someone without talking to them first, especially if they're seated."

He nonchalantly begins stacking sticks on the fire before replying. "No, not while they're seated, you have a point." I haven't been able to get a clear look at his face. He's hooded and robed in a black-dyed cloak. If he hadn't walked into the light of the fire, it's likely that I would never have seen him, not to mention how deftly quiet his footsteps were. "Your friend wasn't seated, however. He was, in fact, standing upright with widened eyes when I freed his head from his torso." He tosses the bag towards me, and out rolls Saron, still looking surprised.

My plan is in shambles, much like Saron, and I struggle to figure out what I should say next. "Hm, you now hold advantage here, I'm no fighter."

He lets out a chuckle, "Clearly. You're trying the diplomatic approach, right, trying to see if I'll let you slap those manacles on me?" He pulls down his hood, revealing long red hair, and a young feminine face with a sadistic expression. "Thing is, you're going to put them on yourself."

I must look shocked, because she seems very amused by this situation. "I would rather keep my hands free, can I leave you be instead? It's not as if I can pursue you any further without him." I gesture to the head she'd lain before me.

"That's a weak attempt at deceit, there's no one who would keep a promise like that to a stranger." Her expression turns more serious as she draws a very well kept stiletto, "You can put those shackles on, or you can die sitting by a stranger's fire."

The choice is obvious. I think the time for talking has passed; this woman enjoys her torment. I don't need to give her reason to kill me, so I clamp the manacles into place on my wrists. "I suppose you'll want the key?"

That wicked smile returns to her lips, "Naturally. Not even trying to be defiant... you must be more of a scholar than a warrior." She approaches me and knocks me over with a swift kick to my side, "Just in case you had a plan for when I took the key off you." All of my things are taken, including the key. My ribs roar in pain as she walks back to the other side of the now blazing fire and takes a seat. It's a massive effort to sit upright again with my now bruised ribs.

"They told us you were a man, that you knew your way around a blade. At least the important part wasn't a lie. Could've made use of the part where you're also a trained tracker and killer." She looks over to me while she puts her hair into a ponytail, not giving anything away with her expression.

"You don't seem too broken up about your companion, not really a friend of yours?" She's sharp, but there's no real harm in making conversation. I'll probably be dead come morning.

"His name was Saron. He was an idiot and frankly, you did his superiors a favor. They sent him to find you as punishment, they won't mind if he never comes back." Saron was stupid, but he also had combat abilities which are vital when travelling on the road. He was useful at the very least. "Do you have a plan? Because I don't, despite your suspicions, and I would like to know if I should be having a mortal crisis right now."

She giggles at that, "I just met you. I don't know what kind of man you are, you seem different from most... educated at least. I don't like to kill people, except for when I'm actually doing the killing. I think it'd drive me crazy if I regretted every life I took." She's startlingly casual about her... philosophy.

"You seem relatively articulate yourself, where did you get your schooling?" I wonder if she attended the same college as me. Her accent is of this country, and there are only two literary colleges here.

I can tell that she hardly gets any decent conversation on the road by the degree of her excitement at discussing her studies, "It was a place by the eastern coast, something Rock I think. I learned to write there, though most of the people I'm forced to associate with can't really read." A degree of frustration is obvious within her admission, probably because she doesn't meet any decent scholars on the road.

"Well, I'm well-read, I could have a look at your writings, it's not as if I'm busy tonight." She looks up with some surprise in her eyes, but then looks back down as if she realised something dreadful.

"I would like someone to read my poems, but it's just about time to put the fire out, you should've said something sooner!" It's a joke of course. Though, more pressing is the question of how I'm not going to freeze to death in the night.

"If you intend to kill me, could you do it before you snuff the flame? I've seen the faces of dead men who were claimed by the cold, it always looks excruciating." An amused look takes over her features as she saunters over to me with a bed roll in hand.

"You are going in here." She points to the bed roll. "You'll be my fire tonight, but you'll also be unable to move. I'm sorry if I tie it a little tighter than you like." Her grin widens, I assume because of the look on my face. Though with her this close and the fire still going, I get a good look at the girl's face. She's pretty, and surprisingly clean for someone on the road. She has soft features and white teeth, a rarity out here. Not too mention that up close, her cloak can't hide her figure. Her curves are stunning, and her arms and legs are toned. The thought of her pressing herself against me all night, while I'm incapacitated, is actually infuriating. Even so, I slide myself into the bed roll and allow her to restrain me within it. She knocks out the fire moments later, so that only moonlight remains. She then rolls me onto my side and slides her body up against my own, I wish I hadn't seen how lovely her body was before I'd been restrained within this bedroll.

"You enjoy this, don't you? You know perfectly well what you do to men." She pulls me closer, rubbing herself along the length of my back.

I can almost feel her devilish expression as she moves her mouth up to my right ear. She whispers, "I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about. I'm just trying to stay warm. You should be thankful that I'm keeping you warm as well." She nips my ear before moving her head back from mine. I'm horrendously aroused, but I have no way of moving my hands, or even mercifully re-adjusting the position of my member. With no recourse, and with some difficulty, I fall asleep for the night.

My eyes open to an excited girl straddling me, with a small tome in hand. "Sun's up, time to read! Your thoughts on what you see in here will pay for the breakfast I'm about to hunt for us." She somehow managed to get the bedroll off me without jostling me awake, but she's bound my feet together with rope.

"I'll give it a look, despite last night's torture." I shoot her a glance containing my frustration.

She replies as she grabs her hunting supplies, "Oh please, you loved it. I could feel your manhood with my hands, even under the layers of fur."

My face scrunches up and I grind my teeth, she felt me while I was asleep?! "I'm going to criticize whatever's in this journal more harshly than anything I've ever read before. I'm going to eviscerate your writing when you come back!"

"Wait! I didn't mean it, don't be mean about that!" A tone with some genuine worry in it makes its way out of her. I didn't think she cared so much for her own writings. I begin to wonder if they're actually any good. With that, she strides off into the forest to catch a meal. I begin looking through her journal. It contains poetry, short stories, and some more personal entries as well. It's all adequately written, proper grammar and spelling, though none of it is particularly striking. With the exception of one poem seemingly about a former noblewoman. The passage is visceral and grounded, it seems to come from a place of deep regret, and it very well may. It could explain her education and expertise with the blade; all nobles are taught to duel after all.

I'm through nearly a quarter of the journal when she comes strutting out of the same pines that Saron once lurked in. "Two rabbits! But more importantly..." She rushes over to me, anticipation in her eyes. "What do you think?"

I decide to be honest. "The only passage that's stuck with me so far is the one titled: A Maiden Moved." She shrinks somewhat at the mention of the passage.

"Oh... what did you like about it?" It certainly has to do with her past.

"It seemed to come from somewhere inside, like it's close to the author... Like it's close to you. It has a level of detail and description that the other writings lack." She gently removes her journal from my grasp.

"Did... did she seem like a bad person?" Who's she talking about? "The noblewoman from the story, I mean." The story had an air of regret to it, it's no wonder her feelings are still mixed about it.

"She was justified I think, to have so much ability and promise... but be stifled by her own family. It's no wonder she left." Her grip on the journal tightens, but a small smile forms on her lips.

"Yeah." She undoes the rope around my ankles. "I'll skin and cook these, you just keep sitting there." As she skins and prepares her catch, she sneaks glances at me. "We're moving after breakfast, don't eat too much." I'm handed a spoon and steaming bowl of rabbit with wild onions. It's somehow delectable, even with the apparent absence of spices.

As I swallow the last of the serving she gave me, I look up to find her peering expectantly at me. "Yes?"

"You liked it? I've been the only critic of my cooking since I started travelling alone, I started out making food that was barely edible." Her expression has softened since last night, her guard has gone down. I begin to realise that she isn't the cold-blooded killer I once thought she was. In actuality she's a skilled fighter who lacks experience with the greater world. She doesn't know that she shouldn't form a connection with me, that she should have killed me last night. Now I know her, and she thinks that makes us friends, already forgetting that I was sent to take her, and kill her if she resisted. She reaches down while I'm lost in thought and frees me from my manacles. As they drop to the ground I look up. Her hand rests on her stiletto, what's she doing? "Get up, we're going. It would look strange for a woman to be in the company of a shackled man." It's an excuse, she already trusts me, or maybe she doesn't see me as a threat. The fool didn't even bother to check up my sleeves, she would have seen my thaumaturgist's brand if she had. She would know not to let my hands free. I'll wait in any case, it wouldn't be wise to try something this close.

"Makes sense to me, I assume that I'll be walking in front of you for the duration of our time on the road?" She gives me a sly look.

"You've got the best ideas, and yes you will." Some time passes as we amble through the woods towards the road. She's silent during the walk, likely because she has her face buried in a book seemingly about the native flora. No experience, no guard, and no restraints. Once we come upon something that's suitable as a place to hold her, I'll do what I have to.

"I think I went to the same school as you, you said it was 'something' Rock. Did you mean DaggerPoint Rock?" I am genuinely curious about her place of study, she may know some of my older instructors.

"Yeah, that was it!" She says closing the book and stowing it. "I studied alchemy pretty much exclusively while I went there. Didn't retain much, other than this book." She pats her satchel.

"Did you ever meet Corven? Old guy, knew all his original formulas by heart, even though hardly any of them were successful." Her eyes light up at the mention of his name. She begins to go on at length about how long and tedious the papers he wrote were. We've made it to the road and I spot what used to be a hut just about one league down, I'll walk with her up to there, then I'll end this farce.

"Did you know that he got married while I was studying under him? His lessons got way better after that, he seemed more upbeat in general." We're almost to the remnants of the hut when she says something that catches me off-guard. "Are there really people who get to marry out of something other than necessity?" I don't really consider the question, as I whirl around and bring both my hands into the necessary places. I create the symbol for dream with my left, and the symbol for acceleration with my right, and I station her in the space between them, from my perspective. By the time I've finished focusing my intent on the symbols, she's nearly to me, but it's already over. The stiletto falls from her grip as she slows to a walk, then lays down. She falls completely unconscious.

I drag her to the hut and seat her against the wall to the left of the doorless door frame. I slap the manacles on her hands, and bind her feet with the same rope that were used to bind my own. A part of me feels slimy for using that kind of spell on a woman, it's a common method used by older thaumaturgists to take women against their will. It's especially vile when used in that way, as the spell is powered by a female deity. Though I have no intention of harming this girl, I'm on the fence about taking her back to the commander. What do they want with her? Well, I can't ask her while she's asleep. I form the symbol for daybreak with both hands and make my area of influence the interior of the hut. She awakens.

Her glare is piercing. "That was dirty. Couldn't beat me in a fair fight?"

What a childish thing to say. "No, and I never intended to try, as you might recall. What's your house name?"

She turns away from the question. "Does it matter if I've renounced it?" She says with the energy of a viper.

I'm beginning to get a clearer picture of her. "No, it doesn't particularly matter. Only your father could have disowned you. Legally you can't renounce your own name." She scoffs at that, obviously not a fan of her own family. "Fine then, you get one chance to answer this question correctly." She looks up, confused, likely wondering why I'm giving her a chance at all. "What are you looking for?"

She opens her mouth, but nothing is said, she closes it again. She lets out a long breath "I... I don't know." I consider her response for a few seconds. I toss her the key and her sheathed stiletto.

"I was going to take you back if you said you were looking for love, or happiness, or wealth... anything really. Those things all lead to ruin for a girl your age. You deserve the chance to wander freely." I lean against the wall on the other side of the ruined hut. I start to think about what I'll tell the commander. A headache begins to form, so I close my eyes and pinch the bridge of my nose, exhaling. A pair of arms encircle my torso, and I open my eyes only to find her peering up at me, something undefinable in her eyes like blue fire.

"My name is Celia, and... I wish you had a name I could call you by." She says sweetly, still embracing me. It's interesting that she knows; a question for later.

"Ah, so you know the thaumaturgist's burden, there aren't many who do. It's true, we can't have names. They're among the things attributed to the cost of these abilities." She hugs me tighter. No one's ever felt pity for the things this power has cost me. It's usually disgust or mild intrigue. I wrap my arms around her, feeling the smoothness of her back, and those lovely curves I spotted last night. I lean down and bring my lips to hers; they're so soft. I come to my senses and push her back. "Let me think for a moment." I use the area of influence I've already established to remove us from the perception of any passersby. Is it wise to take this any further?

She still has her hands on my sides. "What do you need to think about? I want to be with you... here." Her cheeks turn red at the admission, it's enough to remove my remaining reservations.

I pull her back in and place a hand on her cheek. "You don't think of me as a demon? A man who sold his being for power?"

She puts her hand on mine and leans into my palm, closing her eyes. "I think that doesn't matter, if the man is still here, still this kind and caring." She's beautiful, and her presence settles my heart. "Besides, I think that I'm too close for you to cast your magic now!" She shoves me against the wall and moves to claim my mouth. Somehow she's bound both of my hands behind my back. Did she have the rope this whole time? She steps back from the embrace only to kick my legs out from under me, throwing me into a seated position against the wall. She unties her breeches to reveal her recently shaven core. She stands over me just long enough for me to realise what she's about to do, then she descends onto my face.