Emony

By the sides of the dirt road that was their path, three days’ walk from Coldbarrow, two beanpoles were driven into the ground. Each held a sign pointing in a separate direction – one, depicting a crudely drawn picture of a bird, pointed directly along the road they were already following, apparently to Gull’s Landing. The other pointed towards a path that wasn’t there, in a direction where no carriage had left its mark on the frosty dirt. A snowflake drawn in red was on that sign.

They chose to follow the road.

“So that’s the way out of Evaria,” said Aylard, leaning out of his saddle and glancing in the direction of the mountain range. “Doesn’t seem like there’s much of a world out there. The commander told me about a settlement out in those hills, but I forget the name.”

Emony shrugged his shoulders and kept walking. “I’m sure they’re civilized folk.”

“Ha! Far from it! I used to hear stories as a child, actually, of barbarians raiding in the night, burning down villages for the fun of it. Not that I take them at face value now, but no food can grow out of the permafrost, so I suppose stealing must be the only viable way of life up there.”

“Or hunting,” said Tiphaine, slithering a little too close to the horse and madly scaring it with her hair. Immediately, the beast tried to throw Aylard off of itself.

“Divines! Calm down, Starling!” the human shouted at the animal carrying both him and all their supplies, holding the reigns with all his might. Tiphaine winced and moved further away from them.

Emony, looking over her for a moment, tossed her his coat. She was cold-blooded, after all. Startled, she didn’t manage to catch it, but she did put it on after lifting her mask over her lips and mouthing a silent “thank you” with a smile. Emony noticed she was still wearing that dead man’s silver ring.

Sentimental idiot, he thought, returning the smile.

“So, what are we looking for in Gull’s Landing? Cod?” asked Aylard.

“A woman named Lenah. If we’re unlucky, she might just be an insufferable, immortal old witch with hair Tiphaine is jealous of. We need her alive.”

“Hey! That’s not true! I love my hair-vipers.”

She really did. She’d once told him they reminded her of home. Of her mom.

Her mom, huh… Emony looked ahead uneasily.

The human next to him, Aylard, expressed confusion. “Well, I don’t see why we would go all this way to kill her. What do you mean, “immortal”? In any case, she’s not the girl from the rebellion?”

“No.”

“You’re not going to tell me anything? I only mean to help,” he said.

“You’re being very helpful,” Tiphaine called, keeping her distance from him and the horse.

Emony, wondering again if he was being too paranoid before making a decision, made a mental note to really become a mermaid once during the trip so he could ask Aylard if he was a duplicitous fraud. Better to do it sooner rather than later. And he’d been so happy to keep his legs and sane mind for a whole day.

“Perhaps we could ask those people if they know her? They seem to be coming from Gull’s Landing,” Aylard asked, pointing at a group of travelers moving along the road in their direction.

Emony stopped for a moment, considering it. What if they were his friends and coconspirators? No, that was ridiculous, he was just being paranoid. Aylard had done them no harm.

Yet, he thought, remembering the source of his paranoia.

“Go, then,” he said, though distrust was still filling his mind. “Remember, Lenah of Gull’s Landing. And if they ask, it’s Garrick, a merchant from Coldbarrow, that’s asking.”

“Right.” Aylard pressed his heels against the horse’s chest and galloped ahead of them. Emony, an uneasy expression on his face, went and joined Tiphaine.

“It must be annoying, trying to ask the locals for anything with me around,” she said. “I wonder if that is the appropriate reaction to my kind – to keep your distance, and cower in fear.”

He shrugged, eyeing the hissing snakes on her head. He had long ago stopped fearing them in the slightest. Currently, they had gotten all tangled up and were fighting each other to find out who could stand tallest above her. He wondered if they could recognize him after seeing him so many times.

“Sure, it is,” he replied. “For years, I’ve been soiling myself every time I look at you, Tiphaine, if I’m going to be honest. It’s been terribly difficult trying to hide it.”

She chuckled. He looked back towards the humans ahead of them.

“But if you’d like, I’ll slaughter every one of those cowards over there for making you feel this way. My broken arm is no obstacle at all.”

“Emony…”

“Don’t worry, I’m just joking. Actually, I’m not. Just say the word. Hm? What is that idiot doing? … Ah. I thought knights were supposed to know how to ride horses.”

“Aylard’s not a knight, he’s a commoner.”

“Whatever you say. I can’t be bothered to learn the difference. You’ve been talking to him a lot these past few days.”

“Shouldn’t I have? Are you getting jealous?”

“I wonder… Maybe I am. Do you have a problem with that?”

“Nope. Not at all – but I can tell that’s not what’s really troubling you. Emony, I know something’s up, what is it?”

“My paranoia is acting up again,” he lied, skillfully, by revealing a lesser truth.

“I noticed,” Tiphaine sighed. “But it wasn’t Aylard back then, all those years ago. You know that, don’t you? It wasn’t any of the humans we’ve met here.”

“That’s the thing – I don’t know that. Not for sure. I can’t remember the faces from back then. I don’t even know how many humans there were. It would have had to have been a lot, to best two purebred werewolves…”

He glanced over in the direction of where Palehome must have been for a few moments before returning his gaze to her.

“But I trust you. If you say it wasn’t this one specific commoner, I’ll believe you.”

“It wasn’t. I promise he had nothing to do with it.”

“You have no way at all of knowing that, but okay. Fine, I’ll try to play nice.”

“Great. Now, then, if you wouldn’t mind, I’m freezing. Furs and coats can only help the cold-blooded so much. Give me a hug, doggy?”

Emony smiled and gently pulled off her cold metal mask, before reaching under her furs and coats and wrapping both arms, broken and not, around her.

“Don’t think I don’t know you’re playing me,” he said. “You can’t win – you know how much I hate the sound of your laugh. It’s always accompanied by misfortune for me.”

“Not every time,” Tiphaine murmured into his ear, leaning her head on his shoulder. She really was cold.

“Really? Do you remember that time – urgh, never mind. He’s coming back. Close your eyes.”

Far too soon for Emony’s liking, Aylard came riding back towards them. As he came close, Emony noticed the discomfort on his face.

“What is it?” he asked, not letting go of Tiphaine. “Is she dead?”

The human shook his head. “No, but she really is a witch. A sorceress.”

“Damn. What a pain, it really is her. Poor Garrick – horrible taste in women.”

“She’s your friend, Emony,” Tiphaine said.

“Absolutely. My best friend – and matchmaker.”

Tiphaine giggled by the side of his head.

“Actually, speaking of matchmaking,” Aylard continued, “these merchants I just talked to said the witch has a great deal of suiters. The men seem to love her. This despite her being – entirely in the open – as a witch.”

“She must be giving them that love potion,” Tiphaine laughed.

Terrible memories surfaced in Emony’s mind.

Aylard continued: “They say she’s staying with an envoy from Terrena, the very man sent from the capital to deal with her. They have a cottage on the outskirts of town.”

“Surely, she couldn’t have poisoned the whole town? Tiphaine would kill her out of jealousy if she were that popular.”

At that, a mass of hair-vipers began coiling in front of his face, angrily hissing at him. He couldn’t even swat them away; he was too busy sharing his body heat.

“Well, now that you mention it, they only mentioned the men liking her. And I know from experience that the women of Gull’s Landing are the jealous type. Perhaps we should hurry, before they kill her.”

Emony smiled. “Don’t you try to help them, Tiphaine. You said it yourself; she is our friend.”

In response to his taunt, her vipers messed up his hair as she threateningly ran the edge of a poisonous fang along his shoulder. But there was still a day’s worth of walking ahead, and she needed warmth. He won.