Change is often for the better,
an opportunity, a natural state of the world;
but that does not necessarily mean it will come easily.
She gave the battlefield a glum look, then reluctantly picked up her king and handed it to him.
"You win."
With a slight bow of his head he accepted the carved piece of alabaster from her hand, his smile as smug as a cat's. Delicately placing it on the table before him like a priceless trophy he looked up.
"About time, too. I thought I'd never beat you."
She couldn't help but smiling slightly. He could play the part of a polite gentleman to perfection, yet there was that impish glint in his eye.
As she looked up from the cold pattern of the chessboard she realized quite some time had passed; the pale golden light of afternoon had been replaced with the dark grayish blue of evening. Almost reluctantly she left the easy world of the game to once again play the far more complicated game of reality. As she grabbed the sword and stood her eyes met his for a moment, and she realized with a strange twitch of nervousness that for a fraction of a second they had actually understood each other. That thought was frightening, wrong, and she quickly turned away. Without meeting his eyes she gestured at the chess set at the table.
"Could you please put this back in the bookshelf, and put some more firewood on the fire? I'll start dinner."
Without a word he stood and began collecting the pieces in slender pale hands. As he left the kitchen she felt somehow relieved. Understanding could prove to be the most dangerous feeling of them all. She didn't want it, didn't want to risk getting too used to him. She wanted to hate him; that was the only right way.
Why did it all have to be so difficult?
Darkness had fallen by the time they sat down to eat. The cat had returned from whatever elsewhere it had retreated to earlier, and lay in one of the spare chairs, studying the two humans and their strange behavior with feline amusement.
It's amazing, Sylphiel thought to herself, how many kinds of silence there are. Dangerous tense silence, the concentrated silence of quiet competition, and then there is sad, gloomy silence. Or just solemn, thoughtful silence, like now. The silence between them was emphasized even further by the fading away of the storm, its constant wail having finally died out.
She looked calm and pensive where she sat, staring into empty air, her hand holding forgotten a glass of water. Not a sound was heard, save from the muffled crackling of the fire in the living room. The crying of the storm had finally died out, leaving only a forlorn echo in their ears. This might well be the last time he sat by this table. There was no telling what would happen come morning, and that thought made him edgy.
He took a sip of water from his own glass and kept studying her, looking for an answer in her absentminded eyes. Perhaps he ought to try to kill her after all, he mused. If he took her by enough surprise she wouldn't have enough time to grab the sword on the chair beside hers; he should be able to snap her neck before she had the time to react at all. He pondered that, irritably trying to figure out why the thought made him so uneasy. He had never hesitated to kill before.
It would be the safest way, no doubt. If she was dead she couldn't use the sword or her magic to harm him. But if she had truly wanted to hurt him she could have done so already; she wouldn't even have had to bring him with her home in the first place. Perhaps he ought to at least wait, he decided. Wait to see what would happen. He owed her that, at least, for the kindness she had shown him.
She looked up to find him studying her and frowned somewhat; he gave her a quick, amiable smile before looking away. He had learned early on in his short life how to hide his thoughts and emotions.
Suddenly the cat stirred and jumped down from its chair. It walked over to the doorway, then stood still as a statue and stared with unnerving intensity into the living room. A low growl rumbled deep down in the little creature's chest and its tail twitched. Sylphiel gave it a questioning look.
"What's wrong, Poohti-chan?"
He turned to study the cat; it seemed its superior senses had detected something it didn't like at all. He closed his eyes, reaching out with his senses. Sure enough, something wasn't right.
"There is something out there."
Sylphiel looked from his face to the agitated cat, then back.
"What is it?"
He opened his eyes again and shook his head.
"I don't know."
She frowned and stood.
"I hope it's not a fox who's after my chickens again."
"You have chickens?"
She nodded, and headed for the doorway.
"Yes, a few. I left them plenty of food before I left for Sairaag, since I didn't know if... when I'd come back. They should be fine until after the storm, but if there's a hungry fox or wolf out there..."
He followed her through the living room, then hesitated in the doorway to the back door. It wasn't blowing very hard anymore, but the night was still cold. Lonely wisps of swirled up snowflakes danced like ghosts over the white ground. After the constant howling of the blizzard the night seemed unnaturally quiet. Still heavy clouds billowed across the sky, shutting out the starlight and leaving the night pitch black. The girl's glowing spell spread a faint light over the glittering snow around her. She stopped after a few steps and looked down, a worried expression on her face. Bracing himself for the cold he took a few steps onto the snow to see what she was looking at. As he came closer he made out large tracks marring the smooth snow surface. She had a grim look in her eyes as she searched the dark night.
"A troll. They usually don't come this close to human homes. It must have lost its way in the storm."
She shook her head and started walking again towards a little hovel a few yards away, tucked in between the skeletal ghosts of trees. A lazy clucking could be heard from inside. She studied the ground closely for more tracks. Then, apparently satisfied with the result, she turned to walk back.
With a sudden pang of alarm he saw a huge shadow free itself from the trees behind her, clawed hands raised. All thoughts from before were suddenly completely overruled, forgotten as something deep inside him suddenly seemed to awaken, a crystal clear knowledge not fully his own surging through him.
The girl must not be harmed!
His hand moved instinctively; drawing raw power from the very earth beneath him he used magic he had never known before, to launch an attack as powerful as the one that had destroyed all of Sairaag.
Satisfied that the troll tracks led back into the trees they had come from, and that none were visible around the hen-house Sylphiel turned to walk back towards the house. The purple-haired man stood a few steps away from the door, waiting for her, his face hidden in shadows. As she watched he suddenly raised his hand, a sharp light of magic making it glow like a beacon in the night. A stab of fear shot through her; she should not have let her guard down! Before she had any chance to answer the attack with either defense or counterattack he released the spell. Light so blinding it hurt her eyes, fast, tight and powerful as a bolt of lightning sped towards her, past her. The air itself exploded outwards from it, the shockwave sending her staggering as the spell hit something behind her. She turned in time to spot the troll standing behind her with its claws stretched out, then it became engulfed in the blinding light. As fast as it had appeared, the light died away; where the beast had stood only a small fading cloud of cinders remained. Her heart beat so fast and hard it hurt. She turned back towards her unexpected savior in time to see him slump to his knees. As if the fierce attack had drained him of every last drop of strength he crouched on the ground, trying to get his breath back. She hurried over to him, then hesitated, unsure of what to do. In a perfect circle around him the snow had melted away and the barren, cold earth beneath had sprouted green grass.
He clenched his teeth and concentrated on breathing. Whatever incredible power it was he instinctively had just used to cast the spell, it didn't feel like anything he had known before. The ache and numbness slowly faded away, leaving only a persistent itching tingle in his hand. He heard the creaking sound of steps approaching him across the snow and looked up as the blue-haired girl stopped in front of him. He took a deep breath and stood, shaking his hand to make the numbness go away. The expression on her face was hard to interpret, she just silently looked up at him with several different emotions flashing by in her eyes.
"I thought your powers were gone," she finally stated.
He nodded and looked down at the stiffly crooked fingers of his left hand.
"So did I."
Another long moment of silence passed and the cold of the night started to make itself felt again. Finally she broke the eye contact and slowly made her way back towards the house. Without a word he followed her. Once inside she paused by the fireplace for a moment, then turned towards him. Her voice was quiet and hesitant, as if she found it difficult to believe what she was saying.
"You saved my life."
He remained silent for a while, clenched and unclenched his hand to make the last tingle of numbness go away, then looked up to meet her eyes.
"Yes."
"Why?"
How to explain that? The notion she mustn't be hurt had just suddenly been there, as if it had been a knowledge part of his inner being. He didn't know why himself. He shrugged as if it wasn't important.
"I had to."
She bit her lip and frowned slightly as if that was not the answer she had expected. Then she turned away to put a few more logs of firewood on the fire; he could see her hands were trembling. So quietly he barely could hear her she muttered a 'thank you' under her breath. Uncertain of how to answer he just nodded and gestured slightly with his hand, a non-verbal 'you're welcome'.
She stared into the flames that danced before her eyes, her entire body trembling from the delayed shock. Remembering her thoughts from the game, she let out a shaky sigh.
It would seem fate had just decided to turn the board over.
The quotes are from Oshiro-sama's Letters to a Red Priest (in other words, I made 'em up) and can't be used without my permission. If you ask nicely and give me credit you'll most likely get my permission, but anyways...
Who to thank this time..? Oh! I know! All the people actually taking a minute or two to write me emails about this story. Write me, and you'll be included in that category, too! Isn't that nice?
17 | Story Index | Fanfiction