Chapter Two
Guilty and Unworthy
The glint of metal alerted her to an unwanted presence. As she lay on her back, Catriel noticed the knife hovering above her. The knife she pocketed from the dead man one night before. A dread fear bubbled up inside her stomach, knotting it tightly. It spread throughout her body as she searched for who it was that held the hunting knife.
The fear paralyzed her body, though. Only her eyeballs could move, yet that was no mercy for her eyelids would not shut. She desperately wanted to close her eyes when the hand gripping the knife came into view. Her eyeballs scanned to her left and she gulped down her fear. It was the man she killed.
Catriel's arrow protruded from his neck still. The wound underneath the arrow's tip bled slowly. As the man leaned over her, she felt the drops of blood fall onto her arm, strangely cold to her skin. She looked into his lifeless eyes. It was as if nobody had found his body after all. Nobody had sent him to the Beyond. And now he was haunting her.
Catriel could only watch in horror as he brought the knife to rest by the flat of the blade against her arm. It was even colder than the blood. She wanted to call out for help but couldn't find her voice.
I am elvhen, her mind screamed out. You must stop; you must let me go.
The blade ran across the length of her arm. It sent her into a shiver and grew goose bumps along her body. Her heart pounded painfully against her chest. Why couldn't she move? Why couldn't she speak? The fear had quickly turned to terror at the movement of the blade along her arm.
And then the blade of the knife pierced through her skin. She couldn't even cry out at the stinging pain. The man guided the knife under her skin, pushing it down along her arm, skinning her as if she were a deer. Yet she was alive. He didn't seem to know though. He continued the painful exercise with an expressionless face. She wished she would die the pain was so great. As she glimpsed the skin being pulled off her arm and the skeletal, meaty mess beneath she felt the tears trailing down her face and onto her neck.
"Please stop, please!" she cried out.
Amazed that she seemed to have finally found her voice, Catriel attempted to sit up. It worked, but suddenly everything was black. Her heart continued to pound, her breath came in great gasps and she was shaking. She realized that she was awake at that moment, though her eyes remained closed. Frightened to open her eyes, Catriel instead ran a hand along her arm to find it smooth. Her skin was still there. With a great exhalation she opened her eyes to the dimly lit cavern, the familiar sight of the baskets of herbs resting against the wall greeting her. Breathing in the air, the damp earthy smell of home wafted into her nostrils.
It had only been a night terror.
Catriel was glad that she was alone. She wouldn't have wanted to explain that to her mother or anybody else. Shoving the blankets off of herself, she stood up and stretched her arms. She grew annoyed when she found that her legs were still a bit shaky from the dream.
You are not a child anymore to be scared of dreams, she chided herself.
It didn't, however, make her feel any better. When she was a girl, she would run to her mother's arms after a bad dream. If her mother were home, she thought she just might have done so again, and then all her proving of herself would have gone to naught.
It was that which got you into this state in the first place.
The dream had felt so real. She stroked her arms, making sure again that her skin was still there. She examined her body for signs of his blood. Everything was as clean as it had been the day before, which wasn't all that sparkly truth be told. But there was no blood at least.
"Good morning," a voice boomed out from behind her. Startled, Catriel turned around quickly, still apprehensive from her dream.
"Fenarel," Catriel whispered. Her older friend strode toward her with a warm smile.
"You did not join in the celebration," Fenarel said as he halted before her.
She remembered lying alone in her blankets the night before, the cavern dark and damp. The echo of drums pounded through the tunnels from the largest cavern, a place of gathering. Catriel had listened to the hoots, to the loud voices, the songs of celebration with a sorrowful heart. All she wanted was to sleep, to forget about what had happened, but it had not come easily, and when it did it had been no balm.
And how could she have joined in the celebration? She felt guilty for what she had done. A man was dead because of her. Because she had insisted on proving herself as no simple girl child to everyone. And now she was having bad dreams, just as a child would. Yet, perhaps her dream was telling her something. Perhaps nobody had taken care of his body. Maybe he actually was haunting her. If that were the case, she'd have to make it right.
"Apologies… I…" Catriel's words trailed off into nothing. She couldn't stop her thoughts from racing. She would have to slip away sometime soon and go back to the place of the ambush. If the man was still there, like her dreams were telling her… she'd have to send him to the Beyond or else she'd never get any rest. The guilt in her heart might even ease off a bit…
"You were very brave yesterday," Fenarel said. His words broke her from her tortured reverie. "Even if I told you not to follow and would have liked nothing more than to twist your ears until you went home."
"I wouldn't blame you if you still felt that way." Catriel could not meet Fenarel's gaze. He was easy to look at, usually, with his strawberry blonde hair and warm brown eyes. But now, all she saw when she looked upon him was what happened the night before. She didn't want him to see her distress.
"And why should I? Your arrows were like sweet raindrops from the gods. Without them, we might not have succeeded in our humiliation of the Orlesian shems."
"Sweet raindrops from the gods?" Catriel asked in slight amusement. "You begin to sound like my mother."
Fenarel chuckled. "And I feel as proud as a mother… well, maybe more like a big brother."
Catriel's amusement faded away. "I killed somebody. One of us. I don't understand how you can be so ordinary, so proud of me. You act as if it is a common occurrence."
"It is a common occurrence," Fenarel said apologetically. "People, elvhen, die every day. Remember, the man came after you. You were defending yourself. Anyone would have done the same were they caught in the same situation."
Catriel thought of their disguises, the hood she wore to cover her identity. "But what if he had known I was elvhen?"
"He may have attacked you anyway. City elves – flat ears – have no loyalty like we do. They fight for themselves, think only of themselves." Fenarel's gaze narrowed in disgust. "They are pets of the shems."
"Mother says we need to win over our city kin if we are ever to reclaim the Dales. How can we do that when I killed one?"
"They may be our kin, but that doesn't mean I have to like them. Don't take this the wrong way, Cat, but your mother is much too kind. If it were me in charge, I wouldn't bother with the flat ears. Too much contact with the shems has corrupted them. And I grow impatient with this game of harassment we play month after month. I long for real battle, for real rebellion."
"But…" Catriel shifted on her feet nervously. She did not want to be hearing this about her mother. She looked away from Fenarel.
Fenarel sighed and then reached for Catriel's chin, turning her face towards his own. "Turn these thoughts from your mind and forget I ever said anything about your mother. She is a great leader. But you must not tell her what happened last night."
"You make it sound so easy. How can I not think of what I did?"
"You will learn in time. One can never forget what happens in battle, but you will learn to bear it."
Catriel batted Fenarel's hand away from her in frustration. He made it sound like she would never be free of this guilt inside of her. "How?" she asked.
"It is different for everyone."
He wouldn't tell her. It was not fair. He must know of a way. But perhaps she didn't need to hear it from him. Her dream had already told her what she needed to do. She began to think of how to do so. Her mother would be home very soon. She would have to evade her until she could send the spirit of the man she had killed to the Beyond.
Fenarel took her silence for something else and he reached for her hands. "You did nothing wrong. Remember that I killed him."
"It was my arrow…"
"And I finished it. Think of it no more, please."
"Fine," she lied. It was all she could think of. But if a lie would get Fenarel off of her back, then it was a noble one.
Satisfied, Fenarel let go of her hands. "I have something for you." He reached behind his back and brought forward a long, narrow, and wrapped bundle. She hadn't noticed him carrying it before then.
"What is it?" she asked. Her eyes opened wide in curiousity.
He put the bundle in her hands and nodded slightly. "Go ahead, open it."
Catriel opened the bundle slowly. By the shape of it, she expected it to be a sword, but somehow, when it came clearly into view, she remained surprised. It was an exquisite longsword. The blade was sharp and smooth, the hilt elegantly carved. She looked to Fenarel in shock.
"Part of the spoils," he explained. "You've earned it."
Catriel held the sword up to the light of the torch. Mesmerized, she could not look away. It was a chevalier's sword and it must look even more spectacular in daylight. At that thought, her senses seemed to come back to her.
"If my mother sees it, she'll know."
And Catriel didn't really think she earned it. But she didn't want to disappoint Fenarel. He was grinning so widely at her that she felt a blush spread over her cheeks. She hoped he wouldn't see.
"Hide it by the clearing where we spar. I'll teach you some new moves," he said.
Catriel increased the distance between her and Fenarel. She was touched that he would think to give this to her. Surely, somebody older and more skilled with a blade deserved it more than she did. Despite feeling unworthy of the blade, it was raising her spirits somewhat. She turned it in the torchlight and gazed at it wonderingly.
"I have been wanting a real blade for long now. I've grown weary of sparring with wood." Catriel took a practice swing at the air. She twirled around to face Fenarel once more. She found herself beaming at him.
"Take care of it, that's all I ask of you."
"Ma serannas, Fenarel. I will take very good care of it." Catriel set the sword down carefully onto her discarded blankets and then launched herself at her friend. She wrapped him into a hug he could not easily break free of.
"Don't worry about your mother. I won't tell her you followed us."
Catriel broke free and sent a worried glance at Fenarel. "You think she'll find out?"
"Doesn't she always?" Fenarel laughed. "I should go now."
Fenarel left as quietly as he had entered. Catriel bit her lip in thought. No, her mother was not stupid, she always found out everything. She would know the moment she set eyes on Catriel that something had changed. Catriel had to forget then, like Fenarel had said. Her mother would never forgive her if she knew Catriel had killed one of their own.
The plans she had begun to formulate in her mind during Fenarel's visit suddenly took on an urgency they hadn't owned before. If she were to forget, she had to go back. She had to send the spirit of the man to the Beyond.
And Catriel had to do it alone.
