Chapter 4: A strange night

When she came again to her senses the queasiness in her stomach was gone. For a minute or two Lainné stared at the ceiling of the cave, trying hard to understand where she was and how she had gotten there. The events of the night suddenly rushed into her awareness like images flashing across a mirror. She shut them off. Maybe it was better to start easy.

She lay on her back, nestled in a soft blanket and covered to her chin with a dark woolen cloak. There was a particular scent to it, something she thought she should remember.

“So you’ve finally woken up”…

She pulled herself upright and took in her surroundings in one hurried glance. A cave, deep enough that the star-streaked sky looked far away at the entrance. Fire burnt in the middle of the confined space with a kettle over it. She could hear the bubbling of boiling water. And on the other side of the fire, the man that had brought her there sat comfortably on the ground, cradling his knees with both arms and studying her intently.

Even in that position, she could tell he was tall and slender – to the point he could use some good meals for a while. In the flickering firelight Lainné distinguished a face with fine elven features – but pale and drawn. Dark hair carelessly cut hang loosely to his shoulders. There was nothing else careless about that man though; despite his relaxed posture she could sense an alertness about him, as if he were ready to be back on his feet in a second. And the eyes. Lainné swallowed convulsively. So green and so deep. Elves were usually handsome but he must have been something to turn your head after even among his kin…Now he seemed worn, as if there was something sucking the life out of him. Shadow magic did that, Lainné thought bitterly. She had never met a warlock in the bloom of health…most of them looked as if they had been freshly dug from a grave. Light, but those green eyes were cold. She shivered. Like death itself and worse. What unspeakable horrors could make someone have eyes so cold?

“I was starting to worry”, he continued quietly. Fresh scent of tea wafted in the air reminding her that she hadn’t eaten much during the day. “You slept for too long…”

Lainné pushed aside the cloak and the blankets that lay over her and stood. She stretched a bit, before returning her attention to the man sitting by the fire.

“Does it hurt anymore?” He sounded almost preoccupied with her welfare.
No, she reminded herself. The man was elf – and a warlock. The question she should really be asking was why he hadn’t killed her so far.

“No”, she said curtly. “Not that it were a concern for you anyway.”

“Sit down”, he cut her off. Lainné’s eyes blazed but her knees found worst possible moment to give up. She folded down feeling like a sack of oats thrown down from a barn’s roof.

“I’m not usually stabbing people from behind”, the man continued evenly (did he stress usually or it was just her imagination?) “ I sensed someone stalking me…the curse was off before I could even see who.”

“You want me to belive you would have spared me otherwise? ”

The words left her lips without thinking. They stood there, glaring at each other for a few seconds, then he laughed. A strange sound that, not merry at all. And a grin that only touched his lips briefly.

“MAY BE”, he said in the same level tone as before. “I’m still considering it as a matter of fact.”
If the voice was cool the eyes were distilled ice – enough to congeal the blood in the veins of a mighty hero. There was an edge to his words, Lainné noticed. A dangerous man – with a precarious hold over his temper. He might decide to kill her just as easy as he had resolved to carry her out of Stromgarde.

Lainné sniffed – there was something odd – and wrong in the air at the same time. Pursing her mouth she gave up thinking how uncomfortable it was to sit so close to a warlock and decided instead to look around.

The cave was quite small, filled with the sound of waves crushing against the shore. Close to the sea and probably close to Stormgarde too, Lainné thought. Obviously, he couldn’t have hauled her too far, lithe as she were. The land was rugged and a horse could not scramble on the rocky outcrops.

“What do you intend with me?” she asked quietly.

“Well, nothing.” Again that brief smile that brought no warmth into his eyes. “I do not have a wish to kill you…if that’s of any concern, yet as well I cannot let you run to Refuge Pointe and bring them all on my head.”

A right assessment, Lainné noticed. She couldn’t stop the surge of relief that seemed to melt her bones. Not that she had been afraid. Not truly. Just a little. She was no mighty hero.

“Want some tea?”

Her jaw nearly dropped. The question had a much too …friendly ring to it. She couldn’t refrain from nodding yes. He rummaged into a bag by his side and produced tin cups, a piece of cheese and a handful of manna biscuits. Not the most filling meal one could wish for but definitely handy if starving. He filled the cups to the brim, then divided the meager dinner in two.

“Here”, he said, leaning over the fire to calmly hand her the cup and the food. Lainné hesitated.

“I really don’t need…”

“You need to eat” he stated firmly. “At least to recover the strength you lost…I’d be dead hungry in your place.”

She was, Lainné realized. And since she hadn’t bothered herself with supplies of her own she could as well accept his offer. She took the food even if reluctantly. The man eased himself against the stone wall of the cave and sipped his tea.

"So, what's your name?" he softly asked after some while. Lainné gave a start and looked at him guiltily, licking the last crumbs of cheese from her fingers. She had been very hungry.

"Lucienne. Lucienne Neve Mayhrin.”
She forced as mild a tone as she was able to. Being civil would definitely not hurt considering the circumstances. He raised a brow – again with that odd half –smile. It was not a true smile - more of a twitch she thought… exactly what made it so frightening.

“That who walks in the Light… Your parents thought well. ” he commented between two sips of hot tea. “…fitting indeed.”

“Apparently my parents were strong in their faith.” Lainné said distinctly. “Too bad it didn’t serve them much when the orcs burned our farm and killed them.”

“…weird thoughts for a servant of the Light”, he commented. There was a bitter note in his tone and Lainné couldn’t miss the way in which his eyes had darkened. Suddenly she knew what felt so wrong about the man – beyond the subtle scent of shadow magic of course. What she perceived about him was an empty shell, devoid of all emotion, caring and sense of purpose.

“I didn’t mean to bring out bad memories”, the man continued with a sigh. “I’m Eireannan Sarálondë.”

She gulped down the tea nodding briefly. It was still warm and had a very strong , refreshing fragrance.

“Obviously this is not the time neither the place to discuss the ways of light - and I don’t suppose you’ll be telling me what you were doing in Stromgarde…”

He let it trail. Lainné shifted out of her thoughts, aware that Erieannan watched her intently, while she kept avoiding his gaze. Their eyes met, if only briefly before he shrugged.

"Time to sleep ", he said without any further conversational purpose. He gestured towards the improvised bed at the back of the cave: a blanket and his cloak. “You must be tired, no doubt."

Lainné opened her mouth to protest, but he shushed her with a gesture. She clamped her jaw shut and glared at him silently. Ordering her around as if she were a ten years old child, really!

"What about you?" It dawned to her that he had nothing else to cover himself with. And it was cold. She rubbed her forearms to prevent from shivering. The robe in which she had been baking at noon provided now only a very scant protection against the chilly gusts of wind seeping into their shelter. “You’ll freeze to death if you don’t take that blanket…"

“It’s because of the curse", Erieannan said indifferently. “It seems much colder to you than it really is. Now get there and sleep.” The rest trailed into a barely intelligible mutter as he turned his back on Lainné and busied himself with the fire. “I’m always cold besides…One more night won't make any difference.”
With another angry sniff, Lainné headed to the back of the cave and lay down, snuggling under his cloak. Warmth started to return to her limbs and she breathed in his scent – oddly enough she found it comforting.

She was tired and weak as a kitten. If she were to recover any of her strength, she could as well take his advice and have a good night’s rest. Thinking of that, Lainné entrusted her immortal soul to the Light, her passing body to the mercy of Erieannan Sarálondë - and fell soundly asleep.