Fire & Shadow - Forbidden Love

A River

Faster than she could blink, the sword-tip was at her throat. Zhira tilted her head back with a snap. She shut her eyes. Breathe, she thought desperately, breathe, breathe, breathe. I can escape this. Zhira sucked in a breath and forced herself to open her eyes again.

The sword didn’t move so much as a hair. The stranger’s eyes were the pale frozen blue of a snowy sky. Zhira clenched her fists to hide the fire pooling into her palms. Her knees felt like lead and she worried that they’d drop her back into the river. She stretched her neck, afraid to break the cool gaze now she’d found it. A small thrill of excitement tickled her as she realised the tips of the woman’s ears were extended into elegant points. She’d never seen an elf before.

‘On your knees,’ the elf ordered. The words came out heavily accented, as though they didn’t fit her mouth. Zhira swallowed. How could she disobey? She stilled, and the sword nicked her throat. This elf was certainly real. She felt warm liquid sliding down her skin and on to her collarbone. The cut stung. All too real.

‘On your knees!’ The words were a growl and Zhira found her legs starting to bend on their own. She wobbled, arms outstretched. Spirits, she prayed, please don’t let me stumble. First herright, then her left knee pressed against the icy boulder she’d been standing on. Her feet dangled over the edge of the bank as the water coursed beneath her toes. The flames curved over her head and she felt cold soaking through her skirts. She cursed herself. She’d thought she was so clever and brave this morning!

‘Why are you doing this?’ Zhira asked quietly, her breath fogging on the steel of the sword. She felt taut with the effort of staying calm and each muscle strained as with care she reached up and pressed a finger to the blade. The elf’s gaze dropped to her hand, but she didn’t move and nor did the sword. She looked up again. Zhira pressed another finger to the weapon, keeping her gaze focused on the frigid blue eyes. Terror sank into her body and she pressed a palm flat against the blade.

‘You ask many questions.’ The elf seemed to be searching for the words to answer her with. A flash of what Zhira hoped was pity crossed her face. ‘Answers will not save you. Nor give peace.’

Zhira nodded slowly, and feeling the power building in her core. She lowered her gaze a moment. Then she looked up, grabbed the sword in both hands and forced into it every ounce of heat and fear she had. Streaks of it rushed up the weapon. This is either very foolish, she thought recklessly, or I am cleverer than I knew! Blistering energy raced through the steel. It shone incandescent blue. Her focused fear blasted into the hilt and the elf’s hands.

Both of them were thrown backwards by the energy. Zhira watched with grim fascination as the elf was tossed into the willow tree like a doll made of twigs. She dimly realised that she too was falling, down into the deadly water. She flailed in the air, grabbing desperately for anything to hold, but smacked into the river. She felt as though she’d landed on hard ice, all the air forced from her.

Chains of water splashed over her and pulled her down. Sinking fast to the bottom she felt as though she was turning into a stone, a statue dropping to the bottom of an abyss. She kicked hard against the water’s pull. Her foot struck a rock. Frantic, she clawed her way back to the surface. Pale, thin gold fronds danced overhead in a bright sky. She snatched and clung to them, her fingers curled into the leaves. The current wrapped around her skirts and hauled her down again. The willow twigs snapped and dropped her. Her lungs burned. No, she choked. No!

She forced heat into her petrified limbs and for a moment felt herself restored. She kicked again. Once more her feet braced on boulders and she leaped from them, pushing up with all that she had. Breaking through the river crest, she grabbed at the willow tree again. One handful of the slender vines, then a second. Her descent slowed. She made a final desperate lunge for a thicker bundle of branches. The tree groaned, creaking with the sudden weight as she swung back towards the hard and rocky bank. Zhira wouldn’t let go. The heat from her body was being washed away moment by moment. She looped her arm through one of the thicker roots and wedged herself, one arm on the shore, the other stiffened, wrapped in willow branches and leaves. The tree waved gently overhead. It could hold her, but it couldn’t help her up again.

Her skirts dragged at her and her arms shook. Looking up, through the branches, she realised that she couldn’t let go even if she wanted to. She was a statue frozen in place by glacial waters. I might want to let go, she thought. I could just drift down the river and back to the sea.She felt warm again, as though she was sprawled on grass on a summer’s day, or on sunbaked rocks. She leaned back and felt the cool water running through her hair, over her ears. Funny, she thought, the river is washing all the brown out of it. She giggled and coughed.

Tendrils of red flattened against her neck. Maybe it’s not my hair. She shut her eyes a moment. It was more likely to be blood. Whose blood? She wondered about that for a moment before pushing the thought away. Too many thoughts, too many other people’s voices. She was at peace. The sky was such a beautiful azure, with the golden leaves dancing in front of it

like jewels on a necklace.

Suddenly her view was blocked by darkness. Annoyance pinched at her. A man leaned over her. The expression on his face was panicked. She tilted her head to one side and smiled. Rhyode. He was lying with his chest on the chilled rocks and reaching down towards her. The willow branches were in his hair. He must be cold, she thought, lying on those rocks.

‘Give me your hand!’ he commanded, and she scowled at him. He was trying to order her around. He looked worried, so she couldn’t help but reach up a hand to him, bringing with it all the vines she’d wrapped it in. He grasped her fingers despite all the sodden leaves, and the heat in his skin shocked her. It burned. She felt as though she was falling again. Black spots danced rapidly in front of her. The river spun in her thoughts. I’m frozen. The thought blasted her.

It was then that she saw the elf slowly stand up behind Rhyode. The woman wavered a moment before vanishing. Rhyode hadn’t noticed. He wrapped his arms around Zhira’s and tried to pull her out of the water. Relief washed over her before she realised with horror that the elf had only bent to pick up her sword. Rhyode managed to haul her halfway up onto the bank. She was choking, coughing, and desperately trying to warn him, but her mouth wouldn’t work and her body would not respond. She gasped for air as the elf drew back her weapon ready to strike a death blow.

‘Watch out!’