Starling's Flight

Part One: Unfinished, Free-write

The last embers of sunset burned on the horizon, settled above a line of craggy, black hills. A lone swords-woman practiced her techniques in an opened hallway lined in thick stone pillars. She was on the third floor of the massive castle she'd recently taken residence in. It had been a sweltering day and she was sweating, despite her exposure to the night air, which held a cool breeze. White-blond strands lingered around her face, some sticking to her forehead or jawline. She sheathed her sword, taking a moment to redo her ponytail--

When a crash emerged from behind.

Starling whirled to face her oppressor, withdrawing her sword in the same moment, but her alarm served no purpose.

"Ah, quite the welcoming!" the jovial voice of her longest, oldest friend exclaimed.

"Bathor," she sighed, a small smile lingering at the edges of her mouth as she sheathed her sword. "You should know better than to surprise me. Next time I might just have your head."

"Well, as long as it serves some purpose, I suppose," Bathor beamed. "But ... Starling, you will never believe what has happened to me! Go on and guess! You won't be able to!"

Starling smirked. "Then why must I guess at all? Won't you just tell me?"

Bathor rolled his head in exasperation, laughing all the while. Something most definitely had happened, for he was a jovial man, but not to this extent. Eventually, he told her. "I've been accepted into the school of esoteric studies! They actually read my papers and were impressed. I'm leaving right away!"

"Right away?" Starling frowned, a little disappointed despite the good news. Bathor had been studying and applying to every magic school known to man, and finally, it seemed, someone had responded, responded and accepted him! She wanted to be happy for him, but she felt sad that he was leaving so soon. She hadn't prepared for it. She assumed he hadn't, either. It was rather strange to leave right away when night had just fallen.

"Come with me, Starling. You don't have to stay, but you could come along, couldn't you? And protect me from bandits and beasties on the way?" He grinned.

"Well," Starling considered, "If you're leaving right away, there will definitely be beasties. Not sure about bandits. But a man can be impaled as any rat or wolf." She returned his grin. "Why not? I'd like to see this school, anyway." She didn't want to say it out loud, but she felt apprehensive about it. What if Bathor was being taken advantage of?

"Wonderful!" Bathor exclaimed. "I'll light the way." Ripples of magic caught light around him, burning a bright blue. He was like a living lantern as they wandered down the old dirt path out of town. Wild things shrieked and chattered and howled in the distance, and Starling heard branches break and leaves shake, but nothing actually came charging out of the shadows at them. They didn't even see any animals out on the road. Neither Bathor nor Starling had a horse, or access to a wagon. But Bathor had magic and she, her sword and practiced techniques. Of course, Bathor didn't know any offensive spells, and the spells he did know were hardly practical, save for the light, but nobody had to know that. They could just assume he was this powerful, dangerous sorcerer. After all, next to Starling's sword-mastery ... it would be believable that he could perform these incredible offensive spells. And if someone wanted to call their bluff--

Well, then they could eat Starling's sword.

She wouldn't tolerate anyone harassing her dearest friend.

"We've been walking a while," she suddenly said. "Shall we make camp?"

"You want to toss a bedroll here?" Bathor asked, looking at the scrawl of tree-branch shadows cast on the ground. "I thought we'd at least make it out of the forest."