Exile of the Clave

Exile of the Clave - Chapter 12

Sera wiggled her toes uncomfortably in Helen's old, cracked-leather boots, the brown hide faded and creased from where they had been flopped over in the cramped closet that she shared with Aline. She was pretty sure that her feet were a size bigger than Helen's, but she hadn't wanted to offend her hostess' kind offer to replace the shredded disaster of her own favourite boots. They had also managed to turn up a wrinkled, black Clave cloak that had belonged to Aline once Sera had asked for anything that might resemble the right shape. While the others had watched in confusion, Sera had unscrewed the handle from a broom and then nodded in satisfaction as she looped a cord around it.

Her Portal had opened just next to the graffitied concrete wall that marked the entrance to Otherios' home. Steadying herself against it, she shook her head. Need to take it easy for a bit, she thought to herself, knowing even as she did that it might prove to be a tall order. She took a few deep breaths of the cool night air and waited for the dizziness to pass, taking stock of herself.

A few throwing knives remained strapped to her thigh above where she had tucked her ragged pant leg into the borrowed boot, and she still had her crossbow hanging down her back with two nearly-full tubes of bolts. The pilfered broomstick handle was slung over one shoulder on an improvised cord, and the cloak was bundled into the crook of her left arm. Blood had crusted in her tangle of gold and platinum waves, but she could care less what she looked like now. In fact, it might even be help her case with the fat little troll. What she didn't have right now was a fat sack of cash.

Her alarm rune flared to life under her hand, and then she leaned back to wait for him to emerge. Idly, she examined her nails, and was surprised to find that her hands were shaking. She clenched her hands into fists. Keep it together.

A concrete slab grated across the gravel near the water and Otherios' trademark stink wafted up nauseatingly. The troll squirmed upward through the opening. For one terrifying second, his horribly unrecognizable towel caught on the edge and Sera was certain she was going to be sick if it fell away, but he heaved his gut over and hauled the dirtied cloth back into place.

The scowl on his heavy face slipped slightly when he saw her and his mouth sagged open, putting the ground-down stumps of his yellowing teeth on full display. Whatever grumpy greeting he had been cooking up for her died on his bloated lips. He stared.

Sera shifted under his silent gaze. "Otherios... I'm sorry for coming back so soon..." The troll remained silent, and Sera turned her eyes down to avoid what she saw in his face. "I need your help again."

Even though the troll barely stood higher than her waist, she felt small standing there. Asking for help had never been her thing. She had always been able to work or pay for everything she had, and her life had taught her to rely only on herself. But the walls that she had put up had started crumbling the moment she had decided to free Rayce at any cost. She wasn't used to being so vulnerable.

"Girl..." the troll started, still absorbing her battered appearance.

"I don't have any money this time," Sear warned, gold eyes raking him from under her eyelashes, and her hand hovered unconsciously over her remaining throwing knives.

Genuine hurt filled his eyes when he saw the motion, his usual disgruntled act discarded, and he shook his head sadly. His gravelly voice was uncharacteristically quiet when he asked, "What kind of help?"

Sera sighed with relief. "I need you to take me in. All the way." She expected a barrage of complaints from the little Faerie, protests about how it would be impossible to take a human into the Seelie Court, but again, he surprised her. His lumpy head nodded slowly and he hiked up his loincloth again.