Spellbound (14 page)

“This isn’t going to be easy,” Stavros said after a few hour trek to the base of the massive landform.

Elion swallowed the protest in his throat as he looked up at the mountain that stood taller than the clouds. Despite being at the bottom where it was warm and the flowers were in bloom, he swore he could already taste the bitter weather that made the mountain white and foggy.

“Nothing is easy with you,” Elion sighed playfully. Stavros scoffed, but made it a point to lightly shoulder Elion before he began walking.

The higher the path led them, the more barren the scenery got. The animals that had been almost abundant in sight were now becoming nonexistent. Even the birds seemed to avoid going any higher than they had reached by late afternoon. When they came to a plateau, Elion made the mistake of looking down.

“You’re afraid of heights?” Stavros asked as he capped the flask of water in his hand.

“I’m not afraid,” Elion defended, diverting his eyes from the ledge.

“You’re defensive.”

“I have to be with you,” Elion laughed dryly; a little too cranky to be speaking to anyone.

“Alright,” was all Stavros replied.

They hiked in silence until Elion’s legs began to protest violently and his fingers had long since lost feeling. The moon was high above them and its beams seemed to cast ice down on them.

“There’s a difference between perseverance and stupidity,” Stavros said suddenly. Elion forced his frozen eyelashes apart to look at his frowning partner. “There’s no shame in needing to rest.”

“I’m fine,” Elion rasped.

“You’re going to collapse.” Stavros began walking towards a small nook off the rugged mountain trail, if one could call it that. The space was nothing more than a small chunk missing from the side of the mountain, but it provided a ledge over their head and a drier place to sit. “We’ll rest here.”

“Stavros, I don’t need to-“

“Not even the most experienced of hunters dare to come this far up the mountain. The only thing that remains here is death. Don’t confuse pride with intelligence, Elion.” Stavros was on his knees digging deep into his pack and Elion remained silent. It wasn’t the first time he had been told that his stubborn pride would get him killed. His muscles groaned and throbbed with the slightest of movements and his eyelids felt like lead. He winced and let his body fall back against the cold, hard stone behind him. Stavros glanced up for a moment before he pulled the top off a tin and began to scatter dust at Elion’s feet.

“You brought flame dust?” Elion yawned. “You’re really prepared for anything, aren’t you?”

“Did you think I packed playing cards?”

Elion blushed and looked away from the older man’s pointed stare. Seconds later a flame burst to life and Elion moaned with the first lick of enhanced heat. He waved his hands over the small flickering fire and resisted the urge to grab a few of the glowing embers to drop into his icy boots.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized once he had a hint of feeling back in his hands.

“You have no need to be,” Stavros replied as he extended a long slice of cured meat to Elion. “That will burn for a few hours. I suggest that you use that time wisely and rest. We’ve been incredibly lucky to have had the weather we have so far.”

Elion tore into the meat and wiped his cold, runny nose with his leather covered arm. “You’ve done this alone before?” Stavros nodded and unrolled the fur wrapped around his pack. Elion’s cheeks warmed when it was draped around his shoulder and Stavros fell back with a tired exhale.

“Rest,” he ordered before leaning his head back against the stone.

Elion dozed lightly for a short time before he found himself silently sitting elbow to elbow with Stavros and staring up at the brilliant night sky. The stars were large and glistening and the darkness was like ebony velvet; so much different from the hazy periwinkle nights of Hesian. When the flames began to die Elion made the first move, hoping to show that he was grateful for the rest and able to continue, even if his body whined insistently.

By the time dawn had come and gone the winds had begun to quicken. By late afternoon it was clear that a storm was no longer a possibility of little concern, but was preparing to rear its ugly head any moment. Elion refused to let his footsteps falter as he marched up the slick, bitter mountain with Stavros at his side. The silence was no longer awkward, even though a word hadn’t been exchanged in hours. Stavros glanced up at the angry, thick clouds before turning to Elion without a pause in his step.

“You need to stay close.”

Elion snorted dryly, freezing, exhausted and irritated. “Because I have any other option.”

Within an hour, there were white out conditions. The snow simply dumped down on them, covering the trail in only minutes. Elion wanted to scream, but the cold sucked the air out of his lungs. His nostrils felt frozen shut, and he feared that if he blinked, he wouldn’t be able to part his lashes again. He was sure that his hands had fallen off a few miles back and it was possible that his teeth were going to crumble from the chattering.

“This really fucking sucks,” he managed to say while forcing his legs to continue moving.

“We made good time before the storm. We’ll find shelter for the night,” Stavros said over the growing windy whistle.

“Why do you do this?” Elion whined.

“It’s my job.”

“I don’t get you at all.”

“If you did, we wouldn’t be in this situation, would we?” Elion stopped walking then. His painfully numb hands balled at his sides as snow pelted down on them. “What now?”

“We wouldn’t be in this situation if you didn’t have to act like such a jerk all the time!” Elion snapped. “I’ve been nothing but nice to you. I work just as hard as you do and yet it’s never enough is it? I’m
trying
to understand you, but you make it pretty fucking hard!”

“Shut up,” Stavros ordered harshly. Elion’s mouth snapped shut as quickly as his eyes widened in disbelief. The bitter cold stung his eyes and burned his throat despite his blood boiling.

“I swear to the Goddess if you-”

“Shut up,” Stavros hissed this time, a large hand clamping over Elion’s mouth. Elion’s was ready to beat the arrogant, beautiful, broody bastard into the snow when a deep roar made him freeze. Stavros cussed under his breath and unsheathed the heavy sword at his back with a rough yank. Elion whipped around to find that he could see nothing but white. The next noise was an animalistic growl that was too close for comfort.

“What is that?” Elion asked over the wind, reaching for the long dagger sheathed inside his boot. He cringed and pulled his cowl tighter in hopes of getting some of his vision restored when he heard Stavros’ muffled response that sounded like,
troll
.

Elion had never encountered a troll, especially one indigenous to the snowy mountains. They were large, some as tall as nine feet, according to texts and personal accounts. Despite their size, they were fast, dangerously so. Their teeth were capable of shredding through flesh and crushing bone with ease and their nails were jagged razors that were meant to slice and tear. They weren’t picky eaters, meat was meat, and they had a large appetite. Elion had restrained his comments about how lucky they were to not have run into any real troubles so far into their travel. Of course, it would figure that their first real problem couldn’t come in the form of a simple bandit or two. Nothing would ever come that easily to them.

He gasped when he caught sight of the wall of dingy fur and teeth barreling towards them. Stavros took a defensive position in front of Elion, and if not for his inappropriately timed fascination at Stavros’ sudden want to keep Elion alive, Elion probably would have sooner noticed the second troll coming from their left.

Elion was aware of Stavros lunging forward and shoving him, just missing the claws that sliced through the air as he swung his sword. The sound of tearing flesh was audible and when Elion looked up, the dark blood pouring from the beast into the snow was like a beacon in the night. Elion pushed himself upright, gripping the long dagger tightly as he simultaneously tried to think back to what he had learned about the species.

When claws sank into his shoulder, he instinctively tried to struggle away. The pain intensified, darkening his vision as he ripped his arm free and drove his weapon through thick fur and flesh. It wasn’t enough to seriously injure the beast, but it distracted it long enough for Elion to keep it from focusing on Stavros. He backed up, dodging swipes from long, deadly claws while struggling against the snow burying his feet with every step.

He hadn’t realized he was staring at Stavros, every fiber of him pleading for Stavros to not die, until he was moving, feet unable to get purchase off the ground as he was dragged. Elion cussed and he roared with anger and frustration. His palms were burning before he realized he had managed to summon the energy and the shock of the fire leaving his body threw him back.

Elion glanced over his shoulder at the edge of a frozen water source he was now backed up against just as Stavros lunged forward and thrust his blade into the creature. The smell of burned flesh and fur was sickening, but it had slowed the beast long enough for Stavros to finish it. Stavros hadn’t been quick enough, though, as the enormous body fell forward, his claws still possibly still sunk into Elion. Elion gasped as he went back, the tips of his fingers only brushing the top of Stavros’ before he was being slammed through the ice, pain surging through his bones and the water beneath smacking loudly from the force of the impact.

Elion was almost positive that he heard Stavros yelling his name as his body thrashed into a spasm at the shock of the biting cold water. The weight that had broken him through the ice was now gone, the corpse sinking to the bottom of the large, dark pond, and it was relieving- or at least should have been. Elion realized he couldn’t rise back to the surface where the remaining light was guiding him. He couldn’t feel the wounds from jagged claws or the pain that had darkened his vision for a moment when his back hit the ice.

It sucked. It sucked a lot, and he was fully intent on letting Stavros know how much it sucked, because it was so on. He was going to rip the bastard a new one. There was going to be screaming and yelling and probably some crying. He was going to owe Elion so big because this was Stavros’ fault, somehow. Everything was always his fault. He had to distract that damned creature, because Stavros
couldn’t
be hurt, and using a bow in a storm unlike most would ever see, wasn’t a possibility. The dagger in his hand would have been suited for many things, attackers, hunting, maybe even a bear, but a troll- not so much. It had been a blow to his body, summoning that energy with nothing but cold desolation around him, and later he was going to brag himself hoarse; if he lived anyway. Because, he was starting to suspect that he wasn’t going to. The light was dimming, but he wasn’t sure if he was sinking further or if his eyes were closing.

The burning in his lungs was nearly gone and he could almost taste the crystal clean mountain water on his tongue when his body was surfacing again. He wanted to cry out when his lungs contracted, pushing out water in exchange for icy air. It burned in ways he had never known, but there was a voice talking to him, pulling him away from the blinding numbness.

“You’re such a brat,” Stavros panted from somewhere above him. “What were you thinking? I should tear your head off for this.”

Elion laughed; or thought he had. Then he was being twisted and pulled, the cold increasing until he
was
crying out. Stavros hushed him, wet hands touched his face, his arms and chest before they were gone and Elion was breathless once more.

“I need to start a fire, Elion,” Stavros said almost tenderly. Elion gave his best attempt at nodding as something weighted and soft was laid over him; their bedrolls, he figured. “Stay awake. Talk to me.”

“Now you wanna?” Elion slurred.

“Yea. Now I wanna. Tell me something I don’t know.”

“What?” Elion murmured as his heavy eyelids began to close. A harsh smash to his cheek startled him awake.

“Stay awake and ask me something. I’ll answer you.”

“Am I dying?” Elion asked weakly, unsure if he really wanted to hear the answer.

“No. You’re too stubborn. Ask me something, Elion. This is your chance to put your blabbering skills to use.”

Elion wanted to laugh, wanted to kick Stavros and call him a jerk, but found himself becoming far too aware that he was in pain, and that had to be a good sign- that he could feel something.

“Why a detective?” he finally asked, hoping it was loud enough for Stavros to hear.

“Thought maybe I could keep someone from getting hurt,” Stavros answered seriously. “Prove that I’m not a monster.”

“You’re not,” Elion sighed, blinking in an attempt to clear his foggy vision.

“Another,” Stavros ordered briskly. He was answered with silence and looked up to find Elion with his eyes closed and his blue lips parted. He cussed at the small flame sputtering to come to life through dry weeds and twigs in the wretched den he had found to top with his remaining dust.

“Elion, the one time I give you permission to run your mouth… come on.” Elion’s lips twitched slightly as if he was trying to smile. The smell of blood was thick and Stavros didn’t need to look to know that the gashes were bad, but could have been so much worse, and Stavros felt helpless, broken even.