Chapter 14:

I think it all became clear to me with a punch. One single punch—a refreshing burst of pain.

Actually, there is no such thing as a refreshing burst of pain. Pain hurts like hell always. And because pain tends to be just a little distracting, it doesn’t usually bring clarity.

Well, I’m lying on that part. This particular punch brought a lot home to me.

The second one didn’t. And by the third, I was only partially conscious.

It was not the first beating I’d ever gotten, nor would it be the last. But for some reason, this one really sticks in my head. It wasn’t particularly hard, or particularly cruel. But it was the first beating I’d ever gotten at the hand of a friend. The first time that I didn’t fight back because I knew it wasn’t worth it, but because I really was too shocked to respond.

And when he left me behind in the dirt, spitting blood out between busted lips, I reflected that I really hated my older brother. It was all his fault. It always was. Every single damned thing in my life all originated with Prolance.

Tith stood behind me, watching silently, but not offering help. I knew why. Tith believed in hard lessons to learn, and to him, this was just another one of them. I had picked the fight, and I had lost. He knew I had to pick myself back up.

Well, fuck him too.

Sorry, kid.

When I was on my feet, I swayed slightly, and Tith stepped forward, his hand outstretched.

“Mal—”

I tore away from him, and without a word, turned and vaulted myself into the forest. My lip was still bleeding, and I felt sick.

It was all my fault. All my stupid fault. And I couldn’t do a thing about it.

It was a month ‘since I’d made my stupid deal with Prolance. At first, it hadn’t been that bad. He’d wandered into my hut from time to time—smaller than his, a fact he found amusing—and had taken a knife of a piece of furniture. I didn’t mind. If it was furniture I whittled myself a new piece. A weapon? Well, I didn’t use half the ones I had anyways. I was pretty pacifist for a Drow.

But then, Prolance started showing up at the bar. He started making friends with my friends, earning their respect by backing me at cards. I was in a constant state of poorness—I didn’t get a lot of pocket money from my parents, and was unable to hold a job for more than two days. Most of the time, I mooched off of people. I never could buy drinks, and often cheated in chards just to feed myself, even though they needed it as much as I did. But Prolance always had a ready supply as the town’s soon-to-be warrior. He was able to buy his share of drinks and never cheated his friends out of their money. My lone satisfaction was when I handed him the money he’d given me to play, doubled. I’d always been good at cards. I kept some for me, of course. I wasn’t completely stupid. But other than that, my pleasures were few. Gradually, my friends began to discard me as Prolance mumbled things to them.

“Malcom Gold-Eyes?” he’d say when they told him of my magical skills. “Ha! Malcom Elf-friend, more likely!”

All eyes flickered to Tith, sitting next to me at the opposite end of the bar from everyone else, but no one spoke. Prolance sensed a misstep and moved to correct it in that perfectly charming way of his.

“It is not that that’s bad,” he continued. “But it makes him…harmless. You know.” He winked and leaned in, and all the Drow moved in with him, as if drawn in by his easy smile. I didn’t hear his muttered comment, but my friends all started laughing and casting almost embarrassed looks at me. Not the best sign. I must’ve showed my tension, because Tith placed a reassuring—or restraining—hand on my shoulder.

“He’ll get bored quickly, Malcom,” he told me in a low voice. “Don’t worry.”

Easy for him to say. And, as it turned out, not true. Every night Prolance would come to the bar, and every night, I’d have to endure his big-brother act. I would have to sit there grinning or scowling as he toasted to my health, or watching as his muttered words made my friends stay farther and farther from me. I was tempted to strangle him, but this was our deal. This was our damned deal.

“Everything that’s yours,” he’d said. And I’d agreed. I just hadn’t thought it would go this far.

To be fair, Prolance was a superb teacher. He had a knack for languages, and I could begin to make full sentences, and actually sound okay. His punishments were harsh, but he knew exactly how to get you to say it right. He’s the only reason I ever learned the language at all—otherwise I would’ve given up from frustration.

But it didn’t make up for the fact that he was taking my friends from me, bit by bit. Only Tith remained. But Prolance had no interest in him. The other Drow were craftsmen, honorable in their own way, although not as impressive fighters, but Tith was a deserter. He had chosen not to fight. Prolance viewed him as bad as me, so no amount of spite or amusement could make him want to take Tith away from me. It was a small blessing.

So how did I end up fighting with a man I’d once gotten along with? Well. Prolance had gone a little farther than making my friends find me…weird. He’d also made sure that my friends valued him highly. One day he’d been out doing some errands for my father, and we’d been sitting around the card deck, joking with each other as we had before, although there was an underlying tension. In an attempt to break it, I had decided to make a joke about Prolance. It was tasteless, I admit—something about his inability to have children. But Drows have tempers, something I’d somehow forgotten, and soon enough, Kilsen, a woodsman, was lurching drunkenly to his feet, glaring at me with red eyes.

“Say it again,” he said softly.

“It was just a joke, Kilsen.” Tith had risen before I could even speak and stared down at the smaller Drow. His face was calm, and his palms open, the universal sign for “I’m not gonna fight you”. “Relax. He didn’t mean anything by it.”

“And what right have you to speak for Gold-Eyes, deserter?” Kilsen snapped. Tith stared at him, and the others looked down, embarrassed. But none of them said anything. Perhaps it wasn’t just me Prolance had been spreading poison about, and perhaps a lack of interest was not the only reason Tith was excluded from the group. I felt a bad taste in my mouth that had nothing to do with the alcohol I had drunk. I looked around the group. Well, if I had gotten myself and Tith into this…I’d at least get him out. Carefully, I set down the cards I was holding and pushed myself up to my feet.

“Leave Tith out of this, will you, Kil?” I managed a smile. It seemed strained even to me. “After all, I’m the one who’s made you mad.”

“Made ME mad?” Kilsen laughed, throwing his head back. It made him look like…what’s the word…a weasel. I don’t know why. Perhaps it was the smallish frame to his face, the beady eyes, and the scowl. “Me mad? You’ve made all of us ‘mad’, Malcom Gold-Eyes. Taking money we can’t afford to lose, thinking only of yourself, and always, always complaining about your circumstances. When have you done anything for any of us, hm? When have you done anything at all?” He shook his head. “You haven’t. You’ve just sat there, privileged because of your parents and your eyes, and granted with the rights that none of us have got. And now you joke about Prolance, your own brother!”

I said nothing. It was not because I didn’t have protests bubbling on my lips, because I did. It was not because I wanted to scream denial, because I did. It was because I knew nothing I said would make a difference, and because there was some sort of sinking in my stomach. I couldn’t describe the feeling, but now I think I know—guilt.

Kilsen had been a good man, once. He would’ve defended me—we’d been good friends. But I’d been good friends with all the people at the table. Had I changed all of them? Made them look strained, caused those lines around their mouths, caused them to look down while Kilsen hurled these accusations at me?

No. But I hadn’t helped.

“No,” Kilsen said, continuing. “I agree with what you said before, when you would tell us stories. Prolance is not a good man.”

I felt my body freeze. He was agreeing…?

“But he’s a damn sight better than you.”

In retrospect, kid, he was lucky. In those days my magic was not entirely connected to my temper. Now I would’ve blasted him through the wall. Then, I just attacked him. But once I had done it, I couldn’t go through with it. Kilsen was no fighter. I should not have gotten the beating I got. But I did. Why? I couldn’t fight him. It was Kilsen. Just Kilsen.

You know the rest.

I don’t even know where I was going. I just had to get out. I heard Tith shouting after me, but no one else. So I kept going. I wouldn’t be missed. That was a fact. It was better to go. Just…leave. Get my head screwed on right. I moved quickly, not thinking, and somehow found myself on the border of the plains. I was out of breath, and suddenly felt lost. What was I doing there? Why had I come here? Without knowing it, my eyes sought out Maria. The tall grasses were lit only by the stars, and even my keen eyes couldn’t find her. But I knew she wasn’t there. What had I expected, that she would be? And why?

Carefully, I knelt in the grass. It tickled my arms and sides, but I didn’t smile. Instead, I placed my palms flat on the ground and shut my eyes.

Could I just absorb all the strength from the ground into me? My hands curled into fists, bringing the dirt with them. Could it make me something I was not?

I didn’t think so. My eyes opened, and I released the dirt and got up, brushing my pants off.

“Stupid,” I muttered to myself. “Real stupid, Mal.”

“Malcom?”

I whipped around, and there she was. I blame being startled for my heart lodging in my throat and staying there. What other reason would there be? It wasn’t if she looked good. In fact, she looked like a woman who’d been working all day—her hair tied back in a messy bun, and her face slightly tired. She didn’t even look happy to see me.

But she looked concerned. Gods, kid, that meant a lot to me.

“Malcom?” she repeated, taking a step forward. “Are you all right?”

I blinked, unsure that I had understood. No, that wasn’t possible. She spoke Elvish, and I didn’t…

Oh. Whoops.

However, Maria didn’t know that, because understanding seemed to dawn on her face, and she nodded and stepped back.

“That’s right,” she muttered under her breath. “You can’t…”

“I can,” I blurted out. My accent was atrocious. I doubted she could understand me at all. And she was giving me a very blank look. “I mean, I…” I halted. Why was I so nervous? It was making something that was already tricky even more difficult. I had to focus.

“I learned some,” I continued, but more slowly, taking great care to form the words. I was rewarded with a look of comprehension.

“You learned Elvish.” Maria smiled, and her eyes seemed to light. I felt strangely relieved. The woman before had been restrained, calm, older. This was more like the Maria I knew.

“Um. Yes. My…brother taught.”

“He must have some skill.” She was carrying a basket, I noticed abruptly, and she carefully shifted it so it rested partially against her skip. But she never looked away.

I felt my lips thin. Prolance? Have skill? Yeah. A lot more than I did. And I had to give him credit for that, if nothing else.

“Why are you here?” she asked abruptly, turning to look at me. Her smile had vanished, and her head was tilted to the side, as if she could not quite figure me out. “You seem upset.”

How could I explain it to her? I couldn’t. Not really. I didn’t want to. Thankfully, I also didn’t have the vocab to.

“It is a long story,” I said carefully. “And…difficult.”

She nodded. “Later, you will have to tell me.”

I murmured my assent. Later? There would be a later?

Gods, what was wrong with me?

Carefully, Maria set the basket down, then settled down in the grass, not seeming to notice as the grass swayed around her. She beckoned me over with a hand and patted the ground next to her.

“It’s good that we can talk,” she told me, smiling. “I hoped to see you again. You’re very interesting.”

At least that’s what I think she said. The tone sounded right. So I just nodded and hoped I didn’t look like an idiot. She continued.

“Did the library help you any?”

I’d almost forgotten about that. I’d been too busy staring at her. Something WAS wrong with me. A combination of the ale that still churned low in my stomach, the wound that made my head ring—and that she clearly could not see, judging by how she still calmly regarded me—and heartache. I had the strangest urge to blurt something out. Anything. I couldn’t even think, and my eyes kept straying to her hair. It was very black, I thought distractedly. And it looked awfully soft.

“Malcom?” Her voice brought me back, and I stared her before realizing she wanted me to answer the question.

“Yes,” I said quickly. “Yes. It did.”

Actually, that ill-fated trip had pretty much led to my disastrous meeting with Prolance. But she didn’t know that. And she didn’t need to. In fact, Maria didn’t need to know about Prolance. At all. It was perfect.

But that did remind me of something…Carefully, I pulled the book that she’d given me, filled with Drow spells, out from my coin purse. It looked a little worse for wear, but other than that, in good shape. I’d paged through it endlessly, trying to figure out what I could from the text. I had learned a few spells, whatever good they did me, but nothing more. And I hadn’t gotten to reading yet.

“You should take back it,” I said, stumbling slightly over the words. “I can’t read it.”

She frowned at me and looked down at the book, then shook her head and pushed it back into my hands. “And I can’t use it. You’re better off with it, Malcom. Just make sure your teacher gives you instructions.”

Prolance? Give me instructions? I wished. No, actually. I didn’t wish. Especially not in this. Knowing Prolance, he’d slip up in a translation and make me blow myself up. The thought made me laugh bitterly and, before I knew it, my arms were wrapped around my legs, my face was pressed into my knees, and I was sobbing into the fabric of my pants. I don’t know how it happened. I just wound up there.

I’d lived for fifty years. Had I really screwed my life up so much that I’d come to this—terrified of a brother only a few years my senior? God. How was it fair? I felt a catch in my throat, but stopped it before it could become a full-fledged sob and just sat there, my trousers getting damp, and not caring.

And then a hand rested on my back. It was smooth and small, and it carefully rubbed across my shoulders, soothing, comforting. I heard a rustling as Maria moved closer.

“It’s all right,” she murmured. “You can tell me.”

I shook my head, inhaling to force myself to calm down. What was I doing, crying like a girl? Honestly. I was a Drow, not some sort of—

Her arm settled across my back, and her hand gently squeezed my shoulder.

“Please,” she said softly.

It all came tumbling out. I don’t know why, but it did. In my slow, halting speech I told her of my birthday—of Narok, my father, Prolance, Tith, and Kilsen. I skirted around the deal but told her of the problems, mentioning no names, speaking only in general terms. But she seemed to understand me. I never looked up, but I could imagine her staring at me with those silver eyes of hers, her light-skinned elvish face understanding and gentle. And when I did get the courage to lift my gaze, that was exactly what I saw. She smiled at me, then leaned in and pressed her lips to my forehead. She murmured something as she pulled back, but I hadn’t paid an ounce of attention. I still felt her lips on my…

Wow. Just…wow.

I can’t honestly remember the rest of the night. She told me comforting things, said things would get better, then sent me home to get some rest. I went obediently, feeling to be in sort of a daze. I was smiling.

She’d kissed me! It had been on the forehead, but she’d kissed me!

Why did I care?

But she’d kissed me!

Only on the forehead.

But still. It was a KISS. Lips and all.

This dizzying, weird, bubbly sensation was strange for me. There weren’t a lot of Drow girls I’d been interested in. There’d been one woman by the name of Yersi, but she hadn’t liked me much, and being the kind who doesn’t waste time on a lost cause, I’d quickly given it up. And then there had been Hali, who had followed me around as a boy back when I was still Malcom Gold-Eyes, the invincible. I’d liked Hali. She’d looked at me with the proper wide eyes, simpered and, as my magic never showed, vanished.

But this was different. I felt…light. All my life I’d been dragged down by something or another. She made me feel giddy. Happy.

For once in my life, things were looking up.

That’s enough for now, Mr. Keller. I don’t think I can keep going. Thank you.

Hello everyone! I'm back. 'Cause guess what? I just found out you can get scholarships for finished, unpublished books.:D No, I've been writing this chapter for three months, and I just managed to get the finishing touches on it. I would like to say it was worth it but, to be honest, it wasn't.*Sigh* It's an okay chapter, I guess.

Anyways! Thanks Michelle, my loyal reviewer.^^ Would you mind editing the story when I am done? Eventually, in the distant/not distant future?

By the way, we're heading toward the end. 11 more, action-packed chapters! Yay!

No, seriously.

Next one should be up soon! Take care!