Wyvern Tails and Phoenix Feathers

The Unspeakable Words, Chapter 3 - Eloise

Eloise was able to bathe once at the inn in Piara's Den before returning to the road the following morning. The soil of The Centre Woods was at least less marshy than the swamplands of the south. It would take several days to travel to Three Stones even by straying from the winding carriage path. At night, Eloise continued to struggle to achieve any quality sleep. Even as her eyelids fell heavy, begging to be closed, her mind would race with troubling thoughts. She relived Oran's death in her arms, she saw the face of the young assassin she drowned in the river, she felt the absence of Revelyn and wondered if she would ever feel his embrace again.

On the third night beyond Piara's Den, her sleeplessness was interrupted by the heavy breathing and stirring of Bryn Golsane. She turned in her bedroll and watched him sit up abruptly, panting. He was dewy with sweat. His eyes were wide as he touched his face. The recognition of his surroundings returned and his breathing slowed.

"Hey," Eloise whispered to him.

Bryn flinched. He looked at her, still startled. At times she forgot how young he was. Granted, he was older than she was when she first traveled with The Archmage. But in the moonlight, shaking from a night terror, he was especially baby-faced.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

He nodded. " Just a nightmare. I- I had no face. It sounds so silly now, but it all felt so real."

"Don't worry," she assured him. "You still have a face."

"That's what everyone told me in the dream too," he said. "It was like they were all trying to convince me. But I knew it wasn't there. Or if they did see a face, that it wasn't really mine. I looked in a mirror and I could see through the mask and there was nothing there, just black storm clouds. I didn't exist. Is that weird?"

Not if one considered Bryn's origins, Eloise reasoned. Her attention drifted beyond him to the man in the third bedroll. Cirrus's eyes were open, catching the glow of the moon. She could feel him warning her to be careful with her words.

"Yes. It's weird Bryn," she said. "But dreams are weird."

Bryn nodded again to himself and lay back down, obscuring Eloise's view of Cirrus. She wished she could simply tell the poor boy the truth, that he was a byproduct of the Archmage's ill-conceived plan. But where would she even start? And if she did, what would Cirrus do to stop her?

"You were awake already?" Bryn asked her.

"Yes."

"Did you have a nightmare too?"

"Yes," she said. "I just haven't woken up from mine yet."

He rolled onto his shoulder to face her. "I've been thinking about what Effrae said to you, about being alone. If you need anything from me, just say the word. I hope you can come to rely on me as a friend."

Eloise smiled only slightly at Bryn. He was sweet, but trust for her would have to be earned in time. Bryn had already supplanted Oran in Cirrus's pecking order. It felt sort of wrong for him to become her replacement friend as well.

Bryn shuffled in his bedroll and closed his eyes again. Eloise and, she presumed, Cirrus were left to lie awake with their thoughts.

Two days later, the pine trees thinned as they reached the southeastern gate of Three Stones. The frame of the gate was painted turquoise and a line of colorful sun-bleached flags hung across the top. The gate workers were casually dressed, appearing less militant than other guards across Einalia. They accepted the forged documents without any problem, even with what Eloise felt were terrible fake names. Cirrus was artisan chef Urien Klaebourne, Bryn was his son Andyrs, and Eloise was their hired sword, Mitsy Ressel. Never, thought Eloise, would anyone believe she looked like a Mitsy.