Oracles of Ice

Oracles of Ice 3

The pine needles pricked Gaielle's feet as she tiptoed through the pine. Sweet berries had stained her fingers purple, but she didn't mind. Her escapades on the surface made her feel alive. She loved having legs, loved the feeling of being free and breathing in the air. The transition always hurt, feeling like her bones were breaking, but she always felt it was worth it. There was no place in all of Pelagius quite like the surface. She loved the way the breeze blew across her skin, the tastes of the berries and nuts she picked. And when she saw wildlife, she was always entranced.

She plucked a few more of the tart, dark purple berries and popped them in her mouth. The sweetness on her tongue made her hum with delight. She leaned against a tree and rested. A few cuts on her arms from the thorns on the berry bush dripped blood. It wasn't the first time she had been cut open by thorns or brambles. She wiped at the blood but only smeared it. Gaielle shrugged. The salty water would wash it all away as she returned to Berth.

After a handful more, she sat down and closed her eyes. A nap beneath the large tree she leaned against would feel wonderful. She was starting to nod off when she heard voices in the distance, the sound of a few men talking loudly. Gaielle stood to her feet and brushed the pine needles off her soft, creamy skin. She followed the sound of the voices until they were close enough to make out, but she remained hidden. Peering over a thicket, she saw them, three guards sitting in a small clearing, eating food Gaielle had never seen. She watched them as they talked, wondering what they were covered in. She had never seen an earther before.

The men laughed, one of them smacking another, who retaliated by throwing a bit of his food. She was mesmerized. She couldn't pull her eyes from the sight. When they calmed and started talking seriously, Gaielle listened in.

"Well, Elan, you saw what happened. The boy had no business being in a place of battle." The older-looking man shook his head as he spoke.

"Yes, I understand that, Malcom. But it wasn't supposed to be a place of battle. You heard King Graham say he only wanted to talk. The horse spooked and ran." Elan stuffed some food in his mouth and spoke while he chewed. "If he hadn't have shoved his brother, the horse wouldn't have spooked."
"Did either of you stop to think that Graham had no business coming to Warrick and telling him what to do? Brother or not, Graham is not our leader." The third man came in as a voice of reason. The other two quieted and munched on whatever it was they were eating.

Gaielle watched on, fascinated by them. She wondered if the strange things they had covering their bodies were to protect their skin. Looking down at her arms, she decided that was why they wore them, and she wondered if she could find some of those skin coverings for herself to wear.

"Still," Malcom continued. "To watch the boy be trampled, and then to see a sword driven into his body... As merciful as the act was, it should never have to be done."

"Listen, I don't care what you think. What was done had to be done. There was no other way. It wasn't his fault. It was Graham's fault." Elan tossed a cluster of berries to the ground and stood up. He brushed his hands on his legs before walking away.

Gaielle ducked down behind the bush afraid to be seen and wondered at the conversation. From what she could gather, a young boy had been trampled by a horse—she had only recently learned about them—and had been mercifully run through with a sword. Her insides shook with anger. If there was one thing she couldn't stand, it was seeing a small child be hurt—any child for that matter. She clenched her jaw and crawled away before she stormed out into the clearing and demanded to know who it was that murdered the poor baby. Falling to her knees, she ducked behind a bush to hide.