In the Midst of Chaos

Chapter 3

Chapter 3

"Get up."

Melora opened her eyes and adjusted her vision to the white around her. Phyrgan stood in her line of vision, towering over her small frame, his hand outstretched and a forced smile pasted on his face.

"What's with the fake smile? You don't need to do that with me," she yawned, stretching and knocking her hands on the cliff she was sitting in.

After spilling the life stories to each other, Melora and Phyrgan had made their way to the hole in the cliff that Melora had found moments before their encounter. Although they barely fit, they spent the night there, hidden from Elavier and his men. Melora was huddled in the cliff space while Phyrgan's feet were planted in the snow beside it. He'd awoken before she had.

"What fake smile?" he said, playing oblivious although he knew exactly what she was talking about. She took his hand that was in her face and allowed him to pull her up so she was beside him. She brushed herself off.

"Don't play the part of a muttonhead, Phyrgan. You may be obnoxious, but you're not stupid. Now tell me, what's with the fake smile?" Melora placed her hands on her hips and stared directly into the eye of the man who was no longer a stranger, though might as well have been one. "And don't try to avoid the question; I will not let up until I have my answer."

"It doesn't matter," he mumbled, trying to avoid Melora's stare.

"Well, obviously, it matters, or it wouldn't be bothering you so. If you think you're going to fool me with an answer like that, you've got another thing coming for you."

Phyrgan was torn between telling her the truth or convincing her not to worry about it. Knowing she would worry anyway, he decided on telling her.

"They're coming for you, Melora. Elavier and his men, they're looking for you. I overheard some of them talking and apparently, you are a threat to his power, and you know something that no one else knows – something that may be his fall. Tell me Melora, what do you know about Elavier?" Phyrgan's forced smile dropped and was replaced with genuine concern.

"I'm not sure what I know and others don't. How much do you know about him?" she threw back.

He rolled his eyes and gave her a reprimanding glare. "Just answer the question, Melora."

"I don't want to put you in danger by telling you his secrets," she replied. "But I think you need to know. Elavier isn't just a killing machine. He is so much more than that and not in a good way. He can control ice. You know, make it shoot out of his hands, make it form from pretty much nothing."

Melora sighed. "And he's a shape-shifter. You never know what form he's going to be in, because he changes it so often. Though, when there are people around, he doesn't shift in front of them. I'm the only one who knows that. Elavier is not to be messed with. I've seen what happens when people cross his path in the wrong way – it's not pretty."

Phyrgan stood dead still, his eyes somewhat glazed over with a fine mist that seemed to spell out anger. "He what?"

"I said, he's an ice-controlling shape-shifter with a thirst for power. In not so many words." Melora pushed past the man to venture out into the ever-falling snow. Although it was not classed as a blizzard any longer, it was still fairly heavy.

A few seconds passed before Phyrgan realised she was leaving. "What forms has he come to you in then? You must have seen a lot, considering you were in there for fifteen years." He jogged to catch up to her.