The Weaver's Source

Chapter 40

My magic swirled in my chest with vigour as it kept track of the burnt fairy. It felt weird to me. The magic had never been this eager to find something before and the fairy felt like a strange impulse in my mind. I was compelled to run through specific halls and rooms, fuelled by my need to protect Grigore.

It wasn't as quick in its flight nor was it trying to confuse me with its laughter and song, showing the iron had done some damage to it already. The elf had always been swift to move without me seeing but each time I'd catch a glimpse of it down a hall or in a room before it vanished sluggishly, as if it was using all its strength to get away. But, as I ran through the strange crooked corridors, I grew a little uncertain. How was I going to slay it? Yes, the iron poker had done some damage but it wasn't going to let me get close enough to hurt it now. I had to figure something out.

I followed the fleeing elf, gripping the poker hard. While the magic was focused on guiding me, it also kept track of Grigore. I felt shivers of fear and panic rip from it, growing stronger with every second. Grigore was losing. I didn't understand why. He was an immortal, a mage, someone born to slay the most dreadful of monsters but he couldn't overpower a single man. Was Grigore weak for his kind? No, he wasn't. He took on a whole shoal of asrai by himself and survived. Arthur shouldn't be a threat to Grigore at all and yet he was.

My frantic worry for Grigore vanished when I bounded down the hall leading to the forge. I could feel the heat flowing from the room and into the hall alongside that swell of raw magic. The elf was in the room. I charged in.

It was fluttering at the centre, holding its arm at an awkward angle and its gentle blue glow dimming. Its tiny eyes scowled at me as clutched the poker and raised it as if it were a sword. I bit my lip hard. Even though it was something so small I was scared of it. It had magic in it and I had no clue about what it could do. But I had to destroy it if I wanted Arthur and Grigore to stop murdering each other.

I took a firm step forward and swung out hard. The elf vanished and a loud bang thundered in the room. I whirled around to see the door closed with the elf fluttering in front of it.

"Fair lady will remain here." It said. "Wait for the fair man to come to her."

"I'm not staying with Arthur. I'm leaving with Grigore!" I spat and swung at it again. It vanished and moved to the other side of the room.

"She does not see what is best for her. She needs guidance."

"Guidance? You're not guiding me! You're imprisoning me!"

"I am giving her the best life she could have. To follow the Weaver would kill her. Give her pain. It is a bad life." It hissed then turned to the door. "He comes."

The door clicked and in stepped Arthur. If I wasn't seeing him as an enemy, I would've run to him and offered my help. He was in such a state. Blood was thick in his hair and clothes and small wounds were littered over his arms and body. But I didn't trust him, so I hopped back a few steps defensively.

He gave me a small smile when he noticed me step away from him and continue to hold the poker in front of me.

"It's okay, Lyra. I've dealt with him." He said smoothly and a little shakily.

I shook my head numbly. Grigore was alive still. My magic was still attached to him, but he must be hurt bad enough for Arthur to think he was dead. That terrified me. Was he left barely alive, bleeding out his life? I had to get to him and help him but Arthur and the elf wouldn't let me. They barred my way.

Arthur looked at me with gentle loving eyes and took a slow step forward. I flinched and clenched my poker hard, but it didn't stop his approach. He held out a hand, as if he was trying to get close to a startled deer. It was horrible. He was being kind as he had always been. It was genuine, he truly cared about me, but his head was filled with lies and his eyes were black, blinded by a sense of justice. He felt he had to protect me from someone who was apparently hurting me. But Grigore was a good man. He would never hurt me.