Whatever had been there lived a little like the imps. And there were imp tracks there, but it appeared only one. There were massive amounts of bowls and jars. I have no idea who would need so many containers. The fairies like containers but not of this crude sort, the craftsmanship was almost that of a troll. I tried to stay on the opposite side of the camp from my sister’s wrath but I found tracks and had to follow them near her, stirring up another fit of rage. The prints were shoed, about the size of elves, but the treads were irregular. Whatever stayed here, there were a lot of them.
Near the center of the camp the ground was beat down with tracks, circling a ring of stones. There were remnants inside and ashes, a crude fire pit. Around that, several feet out, were various logs, I assumed for sitting around the pit. There were a few huts built about the camp but their construction was unlike anything I’d seen before, very poorly built. I ducked inside one and was shocked to see it was full of the previous owner’s possessions. Clothing, bedding, so much stuff left behind. I had thought they’d left suddenly but I was confident then that it was not of their choosing.
I went back outside and examined the tracks again. I followed the imp’s this time and found my answer. Outside of the camp, I uncovered blood and drag marks. The imp had killed what appeared to be three of the camp’s inhabitants and dragged them off with it, likely by stringer and tow. Whatever was there had run away because of the attack, and recently.
I questioned my sister again (she’d had some time to cool down) but she was no help. I immediately knew she had not even considered that whatever she had been so interested in was still out here, probably close. I didn’t clue her in. After a little more time there, I acted as if I’d lost interest and headed home. Tomorrow, I will follow the tracks. I will find whoever was there and solve the mystery of their rudimentary tools and strange huts.
I yawned. After a quick glance around, I slid the book back into my pack. I rolled over and fell asleep listening to Ruby hum a soft tune.
The next morning, the group seemed in unusually high spirits. I had no idea why the mood had shifted, but I enjoyed the laughter and joking anyway.
We rode past a small waterfall and the crashing water made me curious. I figured Ruby was my best bet. Chevelle gave me no answers and though hers were sometimes cryptic, I knew she’d been reading books on magic. “Ruby, is there a way to harness the power of things… like that waterfall?”
Grey was riding beside us and I noticed him look at me like I was an idiot. I saw that look all the time, but I never really got used to it.
“Not that I know of,” she said. She got her mischievous grin then. “Though I did read once that there was a way to steal life force and use it for yourself.”
Chevelle shot her a stern rebuke from the front of the pack.
She continued as if excusing herself, “But it was merely a fairy’s tale and probably not entirely accurate.” Then, in a lower voice, “It is fun to speculate, though.”
I mirrored her low tone as I questioned her, “How would you steal life force?”
“Well, like I said, probably not accurate… but you would have to take the other's life in order to gain their power. Take it in a specific manner.” She noticed Chevelle glaring at her and overemphasized the act of clamping her mouth shut.
I waited until he turned back around before I whispered, “Ruby, did you bring the magic book with you?”
She smiled.
“Can I read it?”
She winked at me.
I started to smile back at her but before I could process the notion into action, Chevelle was in front of us, his horse blocking my way. I was almost thrown from my saddle when we stopped to avoid running into him. He was angry again. “Frey.”
“What?”
“Do you remember the last time you used a spell?”
I recalled the smell of burning flesh as the maps cut into my palms. “Yes,” I said, defeated.
He looked at Ruby and she understood his direction. There would be no magic study for me.
But I did know she had it. Maybe I’d be able to steal it…
As I wandered around my thoughts, I started to fall behind the group. The higher we rose up the mountain, the rockier it became, preventing me from seeing much of anything interesting ahead while a heavy mist kept me from looking down the mountain, which I’d found I didn’t like anyway - it was unsettling. So, I decided to practice as we rode. I closed my eyes and sank partially into my horse, keeping alert enough in my own mind to hear if anyone was speaking to me.
It was there, leading my horse and seeing through his eyes, that the pain struck. It came on instantaneously, hitting me like a blade, cutting, shearing. It was accompanied by sharpness of sound as well. My ears, not the horse's but my own, were in excruciating pain. Suddenly I felt the horse drop, its head smacked to the ground and I watched, even then, through his eyes as he hit. Its thoughts stilled, not panicked as my own. I didn’t understand what was happening, couldn’t quite form a thought.