A Touch of Death

Chapter 4

He was tall.

That was her first thought upon seeing the Grand Enchanter looming over her. And he did loom— there was no mistaking that. All red cloak and dark shadows under the hood, holding a large wooden staff that made him seem even more imposing, he really did seem like a reaper coming to take her away.

Pale skin streaked by jagged lines of a silvery Mark peeked out from under the hood, just enough to let her see a little of his jaw, a glimpse of his lips. The Mark almost like veins, or maybe branches, but there was too little visible to really tell. Something went fuzzy in her head for a moment, but it was gone before she could latch onto it, overtaken by the desire to flinch away from him, by the fear of what might happen to her.

And then he did something very unexpected.

He extended the end of his staff towards her.

Aoife stared. It felt like she was looking down on the scene from somewhere else, somewhere far away. What was he going to do? Hit her? Magic her? She looked from what she could see of his face to the end of the staff, and then back again.

He didn't move.

"Get up," he said, shaking the staff a little.

Oh. He meant for her to grab it.

She reached out and grabbed the end, managing to extricate herself from the thorny disaster without too much extra trouble. He pulled her up like she weighed absolutely nothing, drawing her out of the tangle like the thorns clinging onto her clothes weren't even there.

The sight of the dried and decaying bushes in the middle of a garden of flowers made her want to vomit. The whole row was dead, not just the area where she fell. Aoife vaguely remembered reading something about interconnecting root systems, but it was overshadowed by a wash of utter numbness in the wake of the destruction.

There was a slight tickling at the corner of her jaw, and when she touched it her glove came away bloody. Her cheek was scratched, then. Her blouse had several rips, tears, and slashes in the sleeves, almost as if the roses had attempted to fight back against their demise. Judging by the stinging in her calves, they had given a good fight.

Aoife started to open her mouth, started to take a step back, but she didn't have a chance. A guard came running over from another area of the garden,

"Sir, what—"cutting off abruptly as he looked back and forth between the dead bushes, the Enchanter, and Aoife. Her heartbeat sped up, sending the blood rushing back to her head. Before she could think about it consciously, before she could think to stay calm or to plead her case, panic won out.

Aoife ran.

Again.

"Wait!" the Grand Enchanter called, but Aoife was already gone, back down the path that brought her here. They were no doubt chasing after her, but the Grand Enchanter's long robes and the armor of the guards might give her enough of an advantage in speed to outrun them. Her feet pounded against the stones as the gate came into view in front of her. If she could make it there, she might be able to lose them in the streets. Aoife skidded to a near stop at the edge of the path, turning a hard left out of the garden gates and—

Ran straight into the large chest of Erik Henning.

It took her a moment to process what was happening, and it was a moment too long. She'd lost her chance for escape even as she tried to pull away.

"You are coming with me," he said firmly, grabbing her wrist. "No little girl gets to publicly insult me."

Aoife struggled against the hold, but she wasn't strong enough to break awa.