Page 53 of Tattered Huntress
‘What are you doing?’ the Fachan’s voice floated over to me. He didn’t sound angry, merely curious.
I would have thought that was obvious. ‘I’m trying to escape,’ I muttered.
‘You cannot go yet,’ he said.
I continued my search, moving as fast as I could. ‘Because we’ve not battled yet?’ I asked, suddenly feeling very tired.
‘We will not battle now,’ the Fachan said gravely. ‘You are too pathetic to fight.’
I stopped and slowly turned towards the green light. The Fachan had returned and, from the way he was looking at me, he could see me clearly enough.
He sighed. ‘I hoped for so much more. There is neither joy nor honour in doing battle with weaklings. Come here, elf. I will show you how to leave.’
I squinted. Was he telling the truth?
‘Or,’ he said conversationally, ‘I could pick up my sword again and kill you instead.’
I threw up my hands in frustration. ‘Alright, alright!’ I grumbled, wondering if I was doing the right thing but not convinced I had any choice. I trudged towards him.
The weight of the darkness left me as soon as I stepped into the light again. I rubbed the back of my neck. ‘Like taking off a bra,’ I whispered.
The Fachan looked at me. ‘What?’
‘Nothing.’ I crossed my arms over my chest. ‘What are you planning to do?’
He reached behind his back then held out his hand to me. In it was a small, slightly curved blade, something between a dagger and a sword. ‘You have no sword,’ he said. ‘Therefore I shall give you this one.’
Nuh-uh. No way. As soon as my fingers touchedthat thing, he’d start the battle talk again. I wrapped my arms more tightly around my body.
‘Take her,’ he said with more than a little irritation. ‘She is a gift.’
I tensed my jaw. ‘I don’t know how to use a blade like that and I don’t want to fight.’
The Fachan sighed again. ‘Did I or did I not say that we would not do battle? You are not a warrior. You have disappointed me greatly. I give you this so that in time you may become a true fighter and perhaps one day will return to offer me a real challenge.’ I didn’t move an inch. ‘Take her!’ he roared.
I flinched and reached for the dagger-cum-sword thing. As soon as my right hand touched the hilt, I felt a strange warm buzz and I gasped.
The Fachan smiled. ‘She likes you. I knew she would.’
She? ‘She’ssentient?’
‘Are not all good blades?’
Not these days they weren’t. Momentarily forgetting my situation, I hefted the weapon from hand to hand. It seemed to be made of bronze because it was heavier than it looked, and it had an intricate emblem carved into its base. An anxious thought struck me. ‘Where did you get this from?’
‘She was wielded by the last high elf who challenged me, 467 years ago.’ He frowned. ‘No – 468 years ago. I haven’t been keeping track lately.’
My mouth dropped open. ‘That’s a very precise number.’
‘I am a very precise person.’
‘You, uh, beat them in battle? The high elf who owned … her?’
‘I did. He was a strong warrior and fought well, but in the end I killed him. He sought glory. He failed.’ The Fachan shrugged. ‘He was not the first and he will not bethe last.’
I couldn’t help asking. ‘Is this all you do? Wait here year after year until the next person shows up for a fight?’
He blinked his one eye very slowly. ‘No, that would be ridiculous. The battles are my hobby. I do not twiddle my thumbs and simply wait for challengers. I have plenty of other things to do.’
