Spellbound (11 page)

They didn’t stray far from the cave; just enough to gather wood to keep a fire burning low for the night. Elion was silent as he stacked his arms with sticks and twigs, his hood falling over his face, but doing little to keep him warm if his trembling arms were any indication. His bow would occasionally shift and cause Elion to cuss and shove it back. It suited him; the earthy leather armor that had obviously been created with him in mind. He had never considered if Elion could use a bow, but seeing him with it looked natural. Elion looked like he was in his innate setting, despite the snow. The tips of his ears were red and twitching against the cold when he pushed his hood back to keep it from his face. He scanned the wooded area, his almond shaped eyes narrowed slightly in concentration. Despite Stavros’ first impression of him, he would admit, Elion’s instincts were of a hunter. He walked with a grace that would give him an advantage over animal or criminal, a skill that couldn’t be taught. Stavros’ muscles tensed at the images of Elion hunting, silently stalking his prey, cycling through his mind.

He offered Stavros an uncoordinated half-smile as they made their way back. It was rare to see him that quiet without his eyes being lit up in thought. He looked worn, a bit beaten even. It didn’t suit him.

“There’s food in my pack if-” Stavros began only to startle back a step when he caught a flash of a spark from the corner of his eye. Elion was squatting next to the small ring he had formed from their gatherings, his open palm pressed forward and a few lingering embers flickered out against his flesh. The low fire danced and crackled strongly as Elion pulled his hand back and curled it into himself.

“What?” he asked sheepishly. Stavros cocked his head slightly and shrugged.

“Besides you are trying to attack me, I’ve never seen you use magic.”

“I didn’t try to attack you, Stavros,” Elion said pointedly, “I was defending myself, and I can’t do magic.”

“I’ve seen you do it twice.”

“Okay, I suck at it,” Elion snapped. Stavros didn’t push the topic, knowing all too well that some things are better left sleeping.

Neither spoke as the setting sun began to cast deep shadows into the cave and their weapons were laid at their sides. Two bedrolls were still waiting to be laid out when Elion tossed an apple core into the fire and tucked his hands under his arms.

“Are you still cold?” Stavros asked, wiping any remnants from his bottom lip.

“I’m fine.”

“I didn’t ask that. I asked if you were cold.”

“I’m not going to cry about it,” Elion huffed.

“Cocky little shit,” Stavros muttered as he shoved himself off the rock and dirt floor and moved towards their packs. He draped a thick fur around Elion’s shoulders before he crouched next to the fire and stoked it until the flames frenzied.

“Thank you,” Elion said, glancing up through his lashes for a split second before laughing lightly, a sad, weak sound. “We left Raylea in what was November of the human world. I didn’t know they actually had a winter like the stories my mother would tell me. Even though it was the west coast, I remember seeing these people in jeans and sweaters at most, and I was wearing all these layers of our native clothing and curled up between my parents shivering with the heaters cranked. I thought for sure I would be dead by spring.”

Stavros made an amused sound. “I traveled to Raylea once. Mikhail took me when I was a child. After living there I’m surprised you can survive anywhere under a hundred degrees. Why did you leave?” he asked as he waved his hands over the top of the flame mindlessly.

Elion studied Stavros’s face for a sign of reason for his sudden curiosity. He wasn’t prying, he was simply asking, as if he wanted to make conversation. Most wouldn’t read into such a gesture, but Stavros wasn’t exactly pooled in the general consensus. Elion sighed.

“War had been a possibility for years. My village prepared for it, but tried to stay neutral, until the possibility became more of a reality anyway. My parents didn’t want that for me.”

“They sound like good parents,” Stavros added casually. Elion nodded.

“They are. They had good lives there and gave it up for me. Why the longsword?” Elion asked in attempt to change the subject. Stavros hummed in thought and scratched at his chin.

“Felt right, I suppose. Why the bow? You have magic at your fingertips.”

Elion chuckled softly. “I’m good with one, and magic never came to me, not enough for me to follow the path of a mage or anything of the sort. Pathetic, right?”

“Why is that pathetic?”

“Seriously? I’m an elf. It’s supposed to be like, my thing.”

“That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard,” Stavros scowled. “I think it might be racist too.”

Elion burst into a hard laughter that made his cheeks ache. Stavros’ expression remained blank except for the twitch at the corner of his lips. “You did not just call me a racist.”

“No, I didn’t,” Stavros replied, possibly a little playfully, as he slumped back against the rock wall. “You should get some sleep.”

“You can sleep. What’s the worst to worry about here?”

“Most of the beasts will stay in shelter through this storm. Trolls will not. Bandits don’t care either way. Vampires have no feeding restrictions here. We’re a few days from the full moon. Not many lycans this far north anymore, but the ones that are more beast than man-”

“Alright,” Elion cut him off. “I think the novelty of this place has officially worn out. Wake me in a few hours, huh?” Stavros gave a lazy grunt before leaning his head back and folding his arms over his chest. Elion shifted inside his bedroll until he had gotten the most comfortable he was going to be able to in his current given situation.

The wind outside howled while he stared at the cobwebs and moss growing across the top of the small cave. Stavros was still to his left, his chest rising and falling slowly as he stared out into the darkness. It was a surreal few moments between reality and a half coherent lucidity. It should have worried him that he was drifting to sleep in a place where the elements or beasts could have at him, but it was the soft scratch of leather shifting against the stone that gave him the reassurance that let his lids settle closed.

~~

Deep gold rays were creeping through the cave opening when Elion sat up. His neck and back were knotted tightly and his fingers felt as though they would fall off. The rest of him, though, was suspiciously warm. He looked down to find that another bedroll had been spread over him. Stavros was still leaning against the jagged wall, his head resting awkwardly on his shoulder with a hand placed on his sword that was lying across his lap. The fire was still burning, low, but alive, telling him that Stavros couldn’t have gotten much sleep. Elion covered Stavros before turning to secure his bedroll to his pack and pull out rations for the both of them.

It wasn’t much longer before Stavros stirred. Elion glanced up and offered him a smile in greeting, but stayed quiet. Stavros wasn’t one for words in the morning, not that he ever truly was at any time of the day.

“Why didn’t you wake me?” Stavros grumbled as he threw the covers off.

“You needed rest.”

“We need to cover a lot of ground,” Stavros scolded.

“And we can’t do that if you’re exhausted. Eat something and then we can go.”

Stavros threw himself closer to the fire and angrily bit into an apple. Elion watched with disgust and a hint of amusement as the older man’s expressions changed from tired to annoyed and finally settled on his standard stoic self.

“Why didn’t you wake me so you could sleep?” Elion asked as Stavros finished his apple.

“You needed rest,” he shrugged, mimicking Elion’s answer. Elion rolled his eyes.

“You know, I get not wanting to fill me in on your top secret mission, but since I’m kind of stuck to you, don’t you think I’m going to- I don’t know, see where you’re going?”

“If you stay quiet until the sun is fully up, I’ll tell you whatever you want to know,” Stavros groaned. Elion’s smirk turned into a grin that made Stavros instantly regret the words that had slipped from his mouth. He damned the morning and his lack of ability to function during.

When they set out a short time later, Elion hadn’t made a sound. Not even the slightest of hums. Stavros groaned again, pulling his cowl tightly over his head and sliding the leather mouth cover into place. The skies were clear and the wind had died down. The snow accumulation wasn’t nearly as bad as he had seen it in the past. It would make the journey a bit more complicated, but he figured it would only slow them down slightly.

He came to an abrupt stop when something hard hit his back. He slowly turned to look over his shoulder only to catch a flash of white before it hit his chest and burst into dust. Elion’s eyes were wide, his bottom lip pulled tightly between his teeth as he slowly backed up as much as he could.

“Did you just throw a snowball at me?” Stavros asked slowly, carefully, as he pulled his face mask down. Elion made a strangled sound in the back of his throat that may have been an attempt at suppressing a laugh or it may have been pure madness.

“No,” Elion said, expression falling blank.

“Elion, we are literally the only ones out here,” Stavros said through clenched teeth.

“It’d never hold up at trial.” Elion shrugged.

“Unbelievable.” Stavros took a deep breath and shifted his pack before turning away. It was the best thing to do in the situation. He couldn’t very well throw Elion off a cliff side, not when they were bound to each other. Besides, Mikhail would know what he had done immediately and, despite being a nurturing father, he had one hell of a temper on him.

Stavros whipped around when there was another hit to his shoulder, giving Elion just enough time to toss another, this one hitting Stavros high in the chest and speckling his face with fluffy bits of snow. Stavros ground his teeth as his pack slipped from his shoulder and hit the snowy ground.

Elion had no regrets when the larger man began stalking towards him with fire burning in his eyes. He swallowed hard and awaited his fate, knowing that, sure, he could run in circles for hours, but eventually he would tire and Stavros would still get his way. It was better to take his death with dignity. He clamped his eyes shut and waited for the teeth or claws, maybe it would be death by feeding, and that was something he could get behind. He would have absolutely no problems being ravaged in the snow by Stavros. When the pain, or heart stopping pleasure, didn’t come, Elion hesitantly peeked. Stavros was only a fingers width from him, his eyes narrowed and dark.

“What are you-” Elion managed to get out before he was cut off by a wave of cold snow. It filled his nose and his mouth, possibly even his ears. He groaned and looked up, trying to figure out how he had landed on the ground without knowing he had been moving. Stavros was standing above him, a long leg on each side of Elion and he looked absolutely proud. Elion groaned and brought a hand to his rib, holding it firmly as he attempted to stand. A second low, pained groan had Stavros leaning down and frowning harshly.

“Where are you hurt-” Stavros managed before he was falling to the ground and rolled onto his back. Elion sat on his stomach with a cheeky grin and his hands loaded with snow.

“Come on, old man. You’re losing your touch,” Elion taunted before emptying his hands. Stavros roared a feral noise as his arms wrapped around Elion’s waist and tossed him into the snow drift next to them.

Elion sat up, his face burning from the cold, his stomach aching and eyes wet from the hard laughter that he was helpless to stop. Stavros stared at him blankly for a moment before shaking his head and extending a hand.

“I’ve never gotten to do that,” Elion said once he had caught his breath and a majority of the snow had been shaken off. “I have no regrets.”

“You’re such a child.”

“Yea, yea, whatever,” Elion laughed. “You have to tell me things now.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Yes, you do.”

“I’m going feed you to the next bear I see,” Stavros said sternly.

Elion huffed. “Hey, a deal is a deal. I kept my trap shut now you have to open yours.”

~~

By the time the sun was setting on the third day, they had covered more miles than Elion could count. They had rested in nefarious dens and eaten enough rabbit to make Elion never want to even look at one again. The words exchanged were barely enough for small talk, but it was talk and didn’t involve yelling or threats. Stavros was almost enjoyable to be around, despite the situation.

Elion was also learning things with little resistance from Stavros. He had learned that there was only one arrival zone for Asurian, though few to none could get in, and that was a protective measure after their last Great War. He learned about the divisions of Asurian and their different climates. He learned the truth about who really pulled off the legendary prank against the most hated academy trainer the year Stavros graduated, and swore across his heart he would never tell a soul. He learned that Stavros hated chocolate and that he had been with Mikhail since the age of seven. Elion devoured every piece of information, ignoring the heat that blossomed in his chest as Stavros spoke.

“We can camp here for the night or push another few miles to the inn,” Stavros said, bringing an abrupt end to the barrage of questions. Elion glanced over, shocked and slightly intrigued.