Weaver: A Silver Crown

Chapter 3

“I’m pretty sure she’s dead Tay,” A tight, high pitched feminine voice spoke through the fog. “She’s as pale as anything.” I heard movement on grass and felt a warm breath stroke my face, the shadow hovering above me. Soft, icy fingers caressed my neck where my pulse would be. If I could’ve moved my body, I would’ve flinched… and cut her hand off for touching me. A deep, almost guttural snort sounded from behind. The woman let out a breath in awe. “Well I’ll be damned, Tay, she’s alive – barely – but, alive.” Why are you so shocked? I wanted to say, to swipe the grin I could hear in her silly, girl voice.

“Nothing gets past this nose, Flit,” His light hearted tone contradicted the cool, smug confidence that seethed from him. Even I could smell it. If only I could just move! My body was on some kind of lock down, fighting against the throbbing torment seeping up from my leg. “Not even death himself.” He continued, moving to crouch by ‘Flit’s’ side. Peculiar name. She snorted at him – I would’ve too.

“Shall we move her then?” Flit asked with impatience.

“Why should we?” Was the blunt reply. I wanted to snarl with rage. Because–

“Because she will die if she’s here any longer! We can’t just leave her. That’s no way to die.” I was beginning to like this girl a bit more.

“A girl foolish enough to get herself shot in the leg and run into a Weaver forest with next to no herbs? Sounds like she deserves it to me.” He grunted slightly and stood up and moved away slightly. I heard the clanging of metals and the brush of leather before the smell of a horse hit me. How had I not detected its trampling hooves before now?

“Tay…” She pleaded, the playful edge to her voice suddenly gone, replaced by a deeper meaning. Tay sighed exasperatedly, like he knew what she meant.

“Fine, but we’ll have to make camp and search for some herbs to help clot and heal that wound,” he paused in thought, coming over to kneel beside me. He began prodding at my leg, the pain as agonizing as ever, but my body did nothing; I did nothing. I wanted to screech. “We’ll have to cauterise that. Doesn't look like it's broken a bone or punctured anything serious. Lucky lady. Shame it'll scar.” He sighed sadly. I didn't care for scars. They were deemed as medals where I'd grown up. “If Mira were here, she’d know what to do, but the village is a two day ride, Flit.” He stood up again and Flit stood with him. “Willing to keep her alive until then?”

“We’ll do our best.” She stated stubbornly, defiance sharpening her tone. Tay chuckled and walked back to tend the horses, mumbling something about ‘we’. Flit leaned over me, her breath warm on my head as she placed her wrists under my armpits and heaved me upright. I felt my head flop backwards and my limp arms dangle as dead weight as she dragged me closer across the grass, closer to the horses. She huffed and placed me down. “She’s lighter than she looks; you’ll pick her up easy. Put her on your horse, he’s stronger than mine.” She ordered, trudging off to her own beast.

“Yes your Majesty.” Tay drawled, sarcasm dripping from his words. Flit huffed.

“Let’s go!” She snapped. Tay came towards me, placing one arm under my shoulders and another beneath the crease of my knees, careful of my wound. My father would’ve scolded me with sweet fury for ever letting another male getting so close, unless in battle of course. But my body was aching and limp, and he wasn’t here. I wish I could’ve laughed at the thought. He lifted me with ease and placed me over the back end of the horse before swinging on himself. He clicked his tongue and it set into a swift trot.

“We’ll travel back northwards to avoid the pathway to the Silver Forest. We don’t want any Weaver’s on our tails with this one’s blood leaving a trail. Then we’ll detour east back to the village.” He called behind him to Flit, who grunted her agreement. I didn’t let the meaning of his words sink into me or let my addled brain process the thoughts. Weavers, village, pathways, forest… There were people outside of the ward – on our land – and we had been told there were not. What did I expect from a court of liars?

~

We rode in silence for what felt like a long time. I occasionally drifted in and out of some kind of consciousness, hearing fragments of conversation and unusual sounds – whether that was my imagination or not, I did not know. I had no sense of time or how long it had been since I’d broken free, but I’d assumed it had been no more than a day because I’d surely be dead if it had.

Eventually, Tay bought his horse to a stop, complaining of hunger and fatigue but having finally found a good spot far enough from the pathway to set up camp. He lifted me off the horse, murmuring about how light and small I was, but he certainly wouldn’t think that while I was slitting his throat with my Sivilkan dagger. If I could’ve grinned I would.

“I’m going to tie up the horses. They can graze for a bit. We need to make a fire to help with that wound. Find some decent wood will you?” Flit asked, her voice already fading as she walked away. Tay didn’t respond, he simply set about the area, as if finding its perimeter. I already felt the tang of magic in the air before the ward charm engulfed the camp, muffling the sound of birds humming. I felt myself take a deep, relaxed breath – and then I drifted off.

~

“You blasted halfwit!” Flit exclaimed as pain erupted up and down my leg making me jolt awake with a cry. Flit gasped, moving to hold me down, her dark hair hanging and caressing my face. “She’s awake now, you asshat. Better make this quick.” She snapped over her shoulder before looking back down to my wide eyed face with a bright smile.

“Hi!” She chirped, contradicting the current situation. “Sorry about this!” My breathing came in quick as I knew what was about to happen. Tay grumbled at her in annoyance, bracing his hand on the arrow. I could feel it all – I bit my lip and stared into Flits dark brown eyes and pale face. Be distracted, Anera. And then he grabbed my ankle, raised my leg and pulled it out by the arrow point – and the world reeled, my head pounding and my stomach churning. Flit’s face dropped as she realised. “She’s going to be sick, Tay!” She yelped, sitting me up and tugging me over enough for me to spill my guts on the ground. There was hardly anything to vomit. When the f**k did he break the arrow? I gulped down air.

“I’m not done; give her something to bite.” Tay commanded, grabbing a thin metal blade from the fire. Oh Gods, oh Gods, oh Gods. Before I could protest, a thick piece of cloth was shoved into my mouth and the blade was already on my wound. Then I was quickly flipped over, the hot metal scorching the underside. I shrieked and cried and squirmed, squeezing Flit’s hand I hadn’t even realised I’d been holding. Tears flowed freely down my face but I didn’t have the energy to wipe or hide them – no one had ever seen me cry before. I rarely did.

Tay began briskly chewing on what smelt like oregano, then turned me back over and began rubbing it on my leg before tightly wrapping it in cloths – much like my undergarments. “You’re strong to have not passed out.” Flit said softly to me, moving me to lie back down, my head landed on my cloak, rolled up. My breathing slowed down and the adrenaline washed out of me, leaving me drained and exhausted.

“Anera.” I breathed, flicking my eyes to her pretty, young face. No one had ever touched me so gently, let alone helped save my life. I owed them my name.

“What?” Tay asked while standing to grab some water from his belongings on the other side of the fire and handing it to Flit.

“My name.” I rasped out, my throat dry from being so parched. “My name is Anera.”

“Well, Anera, I’m Fli–“

“Flit.” I finished for her. “I know, I heard.”

“–teen. Fliteen Diya.” She continued anyway, giving me a small smile. “This here’s Talo Diya, my brother.” She said cheerfully, pointing her thumb in his direction. Talo rubbed his face. She moved towards me, urging me to drink the water as she helped lift my head. It felt like liquid gold as it travelled down my throat. My cheeks burned from feeling like an fool in need of help, but the water was too damn good for me to give a s**t.

“Don’t go giving our family name so freely, or our information. She could be anyone.” He eyed me suspiciously, his dark eyes glowing in the fire light. I stared at him back, before grinning wide enough to show teeth – my elongated fangs. He flinched at the sight of them, before grabbing his sister’s arm and yanking her away. “She’s a god damn Weaver!” He cried, moving the both of them away from me. He should be scared, but not for that simple reason.

“What?” I asked, feeling the crease in my brow form in confusion. “Is that… bad?” I went to sit up, to get a better look at them, but my arms betrayed me. Fliteen moved to help, but Talo held her back.

“Don’t.” He commanded.

“Tay, it’s okay.” She soothed, facing him. His chest was heaving and his nostrils flaring when he let himself look away from me. “Look at her.” She ordered, grabbing his chin hard with her fingers and forcing him to look at me. “She won’t hurt us. She needs help. She gave us her name. You know what that means to them.” Them, like they weren’t part of us, living on Weaver lands. I sniffed then, trying to scent them. They were mixed, their blood familiar with the Weaver tang, but significantly normal, like servants I had scented. “And… She’s not in the Silver Forest, or Threaded City right now. She’s here, half dead.” She finished, abruptly letting go of his chin. Talo looked away in thought.

“If it’s any consolation, I am grateful you saved my life.” I offered with a gentler, small smile. His face was hard and cold when he looked at me.

“It’s not, Weaver.” He spat the last word with as much venom as an actual full-fledged Weaver, but I chose to let it slide. I smiled at him coolly, hoping we could come to a healthy truce, if only because he seemed my best bet at getting out of this forest. He rolled his eyes and looked to the fire. “You’re welcome.” A muscle flickered in his jaw as he set it strongly. How very defiant, I clicked my tongue. Guess that was that then. Awkward silence met us.

“Soooo… Anera, tell me, how did you get here? Why did you have an arrow in you? Who shot it? Are you really a Weaver? Is it cool being able to turn into a spider?”

“Don’t mind Flit, she talks a lot. In fact, she doesn’t shut up.” Talo obviously baited, waiting for Fliteen to bite. She simply crossed her arms, rolled her eyes and poked her tongue out at him – a somewhat charming, young gesture. How old is she anyway? I eyed her curiously, my head tilting slightly to the right. She halted her rude gesture at her brother to look at me helplessly. My mind sparked with mirth.

“Do Weaver’s always look at everyone as though they’re a cat watching its prey?” She asked – yet another question – jokingly.

“Yes.” I grinned fiendishly, showing teeth. She grinned back. “How old are you, Fliteen?”

“17.” She replied, shuffling closer to my side. Brave, brave girl, I thought, coming this close to a fully conscious Weaver. I clicked my tongue at her and pursed my lips in thought.

“You give your age so freely, girl.” I chided and paused, taking a sniff of her.” You’re the youngest in your family?” I managed to sit up on my elbows, ignoring my muscles’ roar of defiance and raised an eyebrow at her. She looked at Talo, who was sitting solemnly by the fire, as if for confirmation to answer. I felt my eyes brighten with amusement. “You are indeed.” I crooned. “And Talo is the middle brother, the man of the family.” I stated, shaking my curling hair out of my face. Talo looked up at me then, his eyes dark.

“And what would a Weaver know of family?” He spat at me. Oh, I angered him so; I shouldn’t have been toying with him really, but I could smell their family bond and blood from a mile off, and I could definitely smell his hatred towards me. They smelt… strange; not quite a Weaver and not quite anything in particular really. My long, pointed ears twitched inquisitively.

“Indeed.” I mused.

“What?” Fliteen looked on at us both in confusion. “How did she know that, Tay?”

“She probably knows of us– “

“I can smell it.” I clarified for them, sighing that they had so rapidly ruined the fun. “I can smell and sense things like that. It is what we are trained for in the Threaded City. You learn it in the Pits.” The Pits; the words clanged through me like arrows bouncing off trees. A foolish slip of the tongue – it shouldn't have been so difficult to keep my face cool.

“So you are from the Threaded City then?” Talo frowned, concern flickering across his eyes. They hardened when they met my gaze. “How are you here then?”

“Tell me,” I said, avoiding the question, “Where are we?” I looked around, taking in the make shift camp and the trees surrounding it.

“The Forgotten Forest.” Fliteen answered. I frowned, having never heard the name. I’d seen our realms map plenty of times, knew each name of all the courts and cities, but had never dreamed we had anyone living in our court lands but us. Talo’s eyes instantly moved to my leg and I saw his throat bob.

“What’s your name?” He ordered.

“I already–“

“What is your full name?” His face turned even stormier than before, contradicting his handsome, dark look. I gulped, truly reluctant to reveal that. My entire body screamed not to. “Tell me! What is your name?” He yelled, Fliteen flinching towards me, like I needed protecting from his wrath. The seconds ticked by of us staring each other down, willing the other to back off first. And then his patience wore thin.

Talo surged towards me and I pushed Fliteen away and instantly slumped back down, my arms ready to fend him off and my hands poised to whip out my blades. Flit stumbled away from me, concern smothering her face, and then he was upon me, faster than I ever thought he would be with that little bit of Weaver blood; his thighs squeezed against my hips hard and my leg barked in protest. We fumbled momentarily, him trying to grab my arms, me squirming and batting him away before I landed a clean punch on his eye – when I had aimed for his nose, but I'm not one to dwell – and Fliteen yelped and moved to help him. Something pinged through me at the sound of her cry, a sense of nostalgia I didn't want to remember.

“No, don't get involved!” I panted, easing up and letting his hands grip my wrists harshly and pin me down. He eyed me for a moment before leaning up and punching me back. I spat in his face before his large hands could pin me again. Talo bought his face down close to mine, switching his hands to pin both my wrists with just one and grabbing my jaw with the other, forcing me to hold is eye. I smiled wickedly at him, wanting nothing more than to slit his throat – and to not let him know how much his closeness unsettled me. His nose almost touching mine and his breath mingling with my own ragged gulps, he smiled back nastily – if he were to have a smile, I supposed it being nasty wasn't so surprising.

“Flit, leave.” He commanded, never breaking my eye. “Me and Anera here are going to have a chat.” He spat.

“But Tay–“ She took a breath and paused. “just, let her go, I'll talk to her.” I admired her for trying. Talo faced her then.

“Do you know exactly what Weaver's are? What they do?” She avoided his eye. “Look at me Flit! You don't know the things I do and you've not seen the same things. They” He jolted my arms for extra measure. “Don't feel anything. If she's a noble, I need to know. I need to know what we're bringing into the village.” He paused, searching her face that had gone into a neutral mask of nothingness. Before he could say another word, she turned and walked away. I breath I hadn't realised I'd been holding escaped me. If this was going to be a torture, I didn't wish for her to see it.

~~~

Flit walked out of ear shot and Talo put his attention back to me. I smiled at him with sweet venom, hiding my relief over the fact he had finally leaned up slightly and was no longer so close. He eyed me suspiciously, his grip on my wrists tightening, causing them to ache before he smiled at me back. I tried not to stare too deeply into his dark eyes that I could feel boring into my soul; tried not to ponder too hard on what was to come. Not that I couldn't handle it. I had endured physical torture before.

“I may not be a full-fledged Weaver, but I will tell you I have impeccable hearing.” He said quietly, leaning back down and pressing his body closer to mine. I set my face into a neutral mask, attempting to calm my breathing, not giving myself an inch to squirm. He leaned his face down closer, his nose grazing my jaw and his lips touching my neck. I scrunched my eyes shut but couldn't help a gasp when the hand not on my pinned wrists found itself gently brushing under and up my shirt. I bit my tongue until I tasted the tang of blood. “But I can certainly hear your heart when I get too close.” He whispered, his teeth scratching at the skin of my neck. A bead of sweat lined my forehead and began to trickle down as his hand slid past and over my hip and down to grip my uninjured thigh. My heart raged faster as I gulped down on the bile bubbling in my throat, the sickness churning in my stomach. I moved against him when his hand found my bottom, urging him to get away, wanting whimper over the fact he had found a weakness.

“Stop!” I breathed. “Stop this.” His hand moved up, caressing the the area where my stomach ended and something else began, threatening to slide his hand beneath my undergarments. I shivered, my whole body sagging, the fight leaving me.

“I can taste your fear, Anera.” He bought his face up then, looking me in the eye. His eyes looked conflicted and his scent was full of musk, yet he couldn't hide the smugness radiating from him over the fact he had won. He removed his hand from my wrists and put them both either side of my head. I didn't have the energy to fight. Talo frowned at me, clearly expecting a different reaction. “Have you never been touched by a man before?” He asked quietly.

I sighed and looked him in the eye, not caring that this bastard was touching me and had done this to me, that he had scented me; that he knew how to get under my skin. “The problem doesn't lie with the fact that I haven't been touched,” I rasped, the memory fluttering across my mind. “It lies with the fact that I have.”

He pushed back from me like he'd been punched in the gut, the breath whooshing out of him. Scrambling off, he moved to the other side of camp, as if he were ashamed. I wanted to snort at the sight, the fact I'd bought a man down simply through a little confession. He cleared his throat.

“I apologise.” He managed to get out. The air shifted between us and an awkward silence met me. I sat up and shifted, scrubbing my dirty hands down my face. I sighed.

“I'll tell you my name.” I told him. He looked up with surprise. As if on queue, Flit reappeared, like she'd been listening the whole time, her face cautious. I took a deep breath.

“Querisha. Anera Querisha.”