ETCH, page 4
Chapter 8
Vali held up a hand, off in the distance, about a three hour walk now, was Mila. The broken city rose up off the land hauntingly. Nothing else was visible upon the flat wasteland of dry cracking earth. Ilva stared at their destination with a breath of relief. It had been almost two full days since the dragon. It would be night time in a couple of hours. They both concluded they should camp for the night.
They had to traverse the dry rocky mountainsides, and set up camp along the foothills the two nights before. Vali lost a whole day of travelling caring for Ilva after the dragon incident and the guilt nagged at Ilva.
Vali felt her own guilt, about bringing Ilva along to this awful place. Ilva may have felt unwanted but, ironically, Vali wanted Ilva with her very much. She never wanted to come back here alone, and now she wouldn’t have to. It felt selfish, wanting Ilva to follow her, for the company and comfort. Vali began digging up rocks to make a fire pit.
Ilva thought about why Vali always started to set up camp so early. Was it her eyesight? Ilva knew she could see a little, maybe she was more uneasy of the dark because of the loss of more of her vision? Ilva thought about Vali’s eyes. Then her own. How would she feel if she could no longer see? The view from the top of that mountain pass, or the sunlight streaming through the trees in her forest. She loved seeing the world. She loved colour, light, and shape. Her favourite things in life were what she saw. What an extraordinary reality, to not be able to take in sights. She instantly felt a stronger sense of interest growing.
Does she feel sadness over the loss of her sight? There were so many things Ilva wanted to ask. She turned and looked into Vali’s eyes, allured by their appearance. Ilva stared for a long time, until Vali said, “Paint a portrait, it will last longer,” not in a biting tone, more a joking one. It still caught Ilva off-guard, and she felt ashamed at her rude behaviour. “If you are curious about my eyes, you can ask me about them.”
The words shook Ilva’s curiosity around inside of her. She did want to ask, the question was what did she want to ask? How did it happen? Does it hurt? Do you hate it? She settled on one she thought was not too invasive, but would still satisfy her meddlesome mind. “How long?”
Vali took a deep breath. “It has been just over eighty years.”
Ilva took this in. Then it hit her; that is the exact time that Mila fell. Was Vali part of the War? Was that the reason for her journey to the ruined city now?
After a few minutes Ilva was spouting out questions faster than Vali could answer them. She was worried she might be annoying her. If she was, her companion did not say, or show signs of irritation. So, she continued her stream of interest, and the conversation grew to be effortless between them.
She asked her if it hurt, Vali said no.
She asked if it stayed the same or got worse, Vali said it depended.
Some questions got a straight yes or no, while others, like this last one, just created more questions. Ilva was dying for more explanation at times. To prevent more questions from arising she attempted easier queries. Ilva felt full of puzzles. She had never met anyone without sight.
“How did it happen?” Ilva finally asked.
Vali sagged her shoulders a bit when she let out a breath, as though she knew this question was coming, as if it was the one question she hoped to avoid. She took one more breath, sat on a boulder, and motioned for Ilva to sit too.
Ilva pulled out the sack of nuts from her pack. She ate a handful, crunching them casually between her teeth, appearing calm and collected, maintaining the aura of comfortable confidant.
Vali half whispered, “Magic did this to me.”
Chapter 9
“Magic?” Ilva queried.
“Yes. Magic. The thing that divides us, causes imbalances in our world, and ruined my life. The thing we would all be better off without. Meddlesome nefarious magic,” Vali vented.
Ilva didn’t really want to go down this road in their conversation. Things had been going well. Ilva let her history with communication haunt her as she assumed responsibility for Vali’s sudden shift in mood. “I’m sorry, forgive my intrusive questions,” Ilva offered abjectly.
“Quite alright,” Vali returned. “I do not enjoy talking about what happened, but I want to. It is just a bit of a long story, and a rather traumatic tale, I would not want to make you uncomfortable.”
Ilva wished to comfort Vali, “I understand, thank you for indulging my curiosity, you only need talk if you want to. No pressure.”
Vali was grateful for the position Ilva awarded her, the choice to share information. No one was ordering her to provide detail. No pressure. She soothed to herself. “Did you know silver elves create ornate weaponry from our element?” Vali shared, as she handed her bow to Ilva.
It was exquisite! This is made of silver magic? It was smooth, long, and the points where silver met string curved a fraction. There were leaves and vines detailing the entire piece, the string glittered as if it too was silver, most noticeably though was how heavy it was. Ilva could barely hold it up.
Vali took it back when Ilva had finished gawking. Then she added, “It took me a while to build up enough muscle to shoot it properly.”
“Were you afraid when you fought the Dragon?” Ilva thought this was a safer question. Avoiding topics that have to do with the past might be easier.
“Yes. Fear is a necessary part of fighting. It tells you when danger is present.” Vali reasoned.
Ilva thought on this, and found it to be sensible, despite the debilitating effects fear had on her. “How do you fight when you are afraid? How do you prevent freezing up, or running?”
“Sometimes I run and sometimes I freeze. If you face enough of your fears you start to overcome those urges though. You can learn in time how to fight your fear and your opponent at the same time,” Vali admitted.
Ilva was content with the conversation once again. “I hope I can learn to fight someday,” Ilva conceded.
“It is definitely a valuable skill, self-defence. However, learning to fight the way I did, with the intention of killing in battle, is less appealing.” Vali, it seemed, had returned to the past.
Ilva wondered if she should say anything, or give her a moment. She decided on silence, turning her body towards Vali to let her know she was still listening, and waited for the conversation to direct itself.
Vali began to profess, “My father was going to war, and I was afraid for him. I knew the elves of Mila hated us, I knew that our dungeons had some held prisoners of the war too, though I never knew why. I was young and naïve. The details of the conflict were kept between a select few high ranked officials of each faction. No one told me, or civilians, why there was such hostility between cities. I wanted to know what all this fighting was really about. So, the day he was to set out, I grabbed my bow and quiver, and followed him. It's been a long time since I've made this journey.”
Ilva shuddered. She was unsure of whether she wanted to know any more. This story must be hard to talk about.
Vali shifted her legs up higher on the rock, pulling one ankle up underneath of her.
Has she ever spoken of this to anyone else? Ilva thought about her role in the conversation. If she was the first, she felt honoured at Vali’s trust in her. She wanted to be the best listener she could. The listener she herself had longed for. That’s what she could be for Vali.
Vali continued, “It was several days before they made it to the place we are now. Many soldiers together move slowly. I was staying several hours behind the band of my father’s company, sleeping among boulders and foothills as the nights came on. The morning of battle, when I went to spy on the company, they were gone. All of them. As I approached Mila, I noticed the quiet. There were no shouts or screams. It was completely silent. There were no elves in sight as I entered the city.” Vali stopped. Her face contorted with pain.
Ilva wanted to reach out to her. But, how?
Vali squirmed a bit, making it apparent how tense she was. Her stance was rigid and she gripped the leather belt around her hips. Ilva didn’t notice her squeezing and releasing the leather over and over. A secret trick Vali used to calm herself and avoid panic attacks. She wanted to end the conversation quickly now. Why did I even start talking about all this? She went on, “I never found out what I wanted to know and my father died in battle that day. I lost my sight when I fought with, something. I don’t know what it was. A shadow. A darkness. There was an arcane artifact in Mila, we fought over it, that’s how I was blinded. I had it in my hands, and I lost it. It must still be out here. I haven’t had the courage to come back. Until now.”
Once again, Ilva was frozen, fear of failure to communicate dominating her subconscious. Deciding upon the correct response was almost as terrifying as the dragon encounter. Almost.
Chapter 10
Ilva gulped. How could she ever comfort someone who had survived so much strife? She is probably so tough she doesn’t even need any comforts from me. It sure puts my situation into a new perspective, she thought. With no idea what to say, and the feeling that she had to say something, she shyly stated “I’m so sorry,”
Vali heaved a deep sigh. “No one believed me when I went back. My grandmother told me there was no shadow, that going blind had played tricks on me, and that if I kept talking about shadows she would have no choice but to declare me mad and lock me away for my own protection. I have not spoken of it in nearly half a century, but I know it happened. I felt the bruises of the battle. I can still smell the smouldering charcoal scent of that bird. I remember using magic.” She made a mocking snort sound before adding. “The event was traumatic and I have no idea why I'm opening up like this. You make me feel comfortable I suppose. I appreciate your curiosity.”
The compliment took Ilva by surprise.
Vali added, “Swallowing my truth was the only way to ensure I would be able to find acceptance at home. This, talking about it, is most comforting.” The conversation still hung over them, Vali sought the comfort of closure, “Thank you for listening to me. It means a lot to me.” Her sightless eyes moved in Ilva’s direction, as she said in a softer tone, “Let's get some sleep. We have a long day ahead.”
Ilva blushed so brightly her cheeks felt hot, and stung a bit as if someone had pinched them. The softness and emotion in Vali’s eyes had caught Ilva off guard. She bit at her lip and struggled to find something to say. Ilva was so uncomfortable she shifted in her seat and let out the most awkward, “I am out of practice with communicating, I can listen all you like though. Talk any time you feel the need my friend.” That sounded good, right? Ilva thought.
Vali let out an exhausted grunt and appeared ready to pass out. The time had passed considerably as they had talked, the sky was shades of amber and amethyst. Sunset. As the last golden line left the horizon, navy began spilling down from above the clouds, slowly filling the sky with deep-sea hues. Though it did not feel like a waste of time to Ilva, to Vali that is exactly what it felt like. She cursed herself for wasting time talking about unchangeable history. She never even finished setting up camp. So, she jumped off the rock, began hastily unrolling their beds and grabbed her flint for the fire.
As soon as Vali had stood, Ilva was eager to give her a hand. This comforted Vali more than any words would have. She wasn’t used to having physical help.
It was much colder on this dry open land at night. Though they spoke no more, Vali sat close to Ilva upon her fur, and wrapped hers around the two of them, claiming it was the easiest way to stay warm. They sat by the fire, shoulder to shoulder, feeling the flames and eating the dried meat Vali seemed to have unlimited stock of.
Ilva fell asleep like that, lolling her head until it dropped onto the silver elf’s shoulder. She drooled a bit, and Vali smiled. Maybe this is what it feels like to trust someone, Vali sighed to herself. She liked the hopeful thought of a new friend in her life. The idea of trust. It also frightened her.
Chapter 11
When they awoke the next day, they were both still next to one another. Ilva was pretty much blanketing Vali with her left leg and arm. Their curves rested against each other comfortably. Upon waking, they both startled at the position they were in. They sat up, shifted a fraction apart, and tried to act as if there was nothing odd about how they slept. Other elves do it all the time. Why did she feel so shameful? It was not as if they did anything. The things that didn’t happen flashed through her mind. Ilva, absorbed in her wildest imaginations, a nude version of Vali next to her, their curves meeting, almost didn’t hear Vali say, “Let us pack up.”
Ilva blushed so hard she thought Vali, even with her fogged vision, might see the flush in her face; bright as the crimson sun rising with them.
Vali stood up first, and began packing up camp, moving swiftly.
Ilva watched her and noticed it then; Vali was blushing too.
When they had packed up the last of their gear, and buried the pit of coals, they marched around to face Mila. Today, maybe they would find what Vali sought. Ilva was still following along with no idea what they were after. Vali seemed like a decent elf. Ilva thought they had a lot of things in common. Then the story came back to her. Maybe not that much, she thought, she is braver than I could ever hope to be.
“Ilva,” Vali spoke.
The sound of her own name had never been so pleasing to hear. She loved the way her name sounded in Vali’s soft sing-song voice, as if she had never before been called by it properly. She turned to face her. She was sure that Vali could still sense the movement, and appreciated the gesture. “I told you my story yesterday. I still do not know yours, however. Forgive my curiosity, but would you tell me something of yourself? Just to pass time on our walk.”
Ilva was so taken aback she almost tripped over her own foot, but she managed to right herself before feeling too foolish. “I am not as interesting as you are. I do not wish to bore you with my rather uneventful life.”
Vali smiled and giggled, “You find me interesting, do you?”
Once again Ilva’s face was on fire.
“Oh, well…yes. Your story yesterday was fascinating, and so are you.” Ilva shook all over, she sounded only a little awkward when she spoke. It took all her strength to maintain her composure.
Vali suddenly burst out laughing. Then Ilva joined. Unable to hold back, her face became sore from the strain on her cheeks and her stomach felt like she had never used her abs before. Who knew laughter could be such a laborious thing? Her lungs trembling under the short inhales she managed to take. The two of them laughed harder and harder. As one would stop the other would start again. After a couple good minutes, they had become raspy and had to stop. Deep breathing ensued, and the two of them chuckled down as smiles were still spread upon their faces, they walked on.
After another few minutes Vali spoke up again. “I did not mean to jest you. I had no idea the request would make you feel so pressured to respond. I am glad you find me fascinating. I also find you most interesting, and though I do long to know about you, mysterious Ilva, I would not press for it. No pressure, right?”
Ilva considered her words carefully. She wants to know about me, and she finds me interesting too? I do want to talk about what happened to someone too. I can trust her, if she can trust me. Ilva began “Well, I was never inducted. Never learned magic. My mother tried to force her traditions on me. I was a bit of a disappointment I am rather a childish girl I suppose. I am not well behaved, and as a result not well liked. So, I sort of, ran away from my life, like a coward.
“Not much else to tell really. That's my whole story. A spoiled rich little elf with controlling parents. I stayed in the forest for a long time. All alone. You were the first elf I had spoken to, in eighty years.” The reality sunk in, and as Ilva opened up this part of herself she felt the hurt all over again. She had forgotten a lot of her pain and loneliness, focusing only on where she went and not where she had been. Is that really how cowardly I am? Ilva thought. She looked to see if she could gauge how Vali must see her now.
Vali’s face was painted with an expression of soft sympathy.
Ilva felt surprised at this and found comfort in it. She spoke again, “I feel at ease speaking with you too. Even if I have not conversed in years. You don't judge the things I say, or berate them, or lecture me. You are not demanding, or pushy, or mean. You have my thanks for wandering into my forest, and leading me out. I did not even know I felt alone, until you walked away.”
“Well,” Vali soothed, “neither of us is alone now. I consider you the only true friend I have ever had. I do not care that we met only a few suns ago. You are my friend, and I hope we shall always be friends. I wish to laugh like that more,” she ended with a light chuckle.
They reached the ruined place by mid-morning, and it was a frightful sight. Buildings were tumbling down, and dusty sand covered every inch of the city. Vali stiffened as they approached the large pillars that rose on either side. The first step into the city was daunting. Vali did not need to say anything for Ilva to know her reservations. She turned to her new friend, and grasped her hand. It was an unusual sensation. Touching the hand of another. She had not done this since she was small. She could feel, through the griping of her fingers, the relief it brought Vali, as her hand softened its grip. They took the first step into the city. Together.
Chapter 12
Walking through this abandoned place was frightening. Ilva was glad to give Vali support. She wished someone had given her a hand to hold many times while she was alone. Holding Vali’s made her feel she had something to give. That she was needed. It was a good feeling.
As they passed home after home, the desertion was clear. No one else was here. There was no livestock, no farmable land, and no water. It was a formidable wasteland, and this town was part of the landscape now. The dust had battered the wooden doors down to soft shapes resembling driftwood. Ilva thought it was fascinating that sand could have the same effect on things as water.
