Ioflar Chapter 2
Maurice
“Oof!”
Maurice crumpled as the tree-dweller landed on top of him. He groaned, hearing the other person do the same.
Who were they? Were they one of those low-life pillagers? Had they seen the beacon as well? Perhaps his luck had turned around; he wouldn’t need to track the gang he had been trailing if they came to him instead. Quickly running an inventory of his gear, Maurice grimaced as he realized his sword was pinned behind his back. Must’ve twisted when he fell.
He would need to get creative.
Wrenching his body to the side, Maurice tried to dislodge his attacker. Most would have been thrown to the side, but this one just clung on all the more. He did manage to unsteady them, though, noticing as they teetered back and forth.
Using his momentum, Maurice kicked off the ground, rolling over his attacker. Their breath huffed out and Maurice felt their grip weaken. He pushed off them, clambering to his feet. Snatching up his sword, he took his first decent look at his attacker.
It was a woman, tangled up in a long, green coat. Leather armor and navy leggings peeked out from underneath. She blew a whisp of short, dark hair out of her eyes, glaring fiercely.
“I will fight to the death, if I must, before I go back to the Courts,” the woman spat.
Maurice paused. “Courts? What courts?”
He brought up his sword, narrowly parrying the woman’s glaive. As he had trailed them, neither the bandits nor anyone they pillaged mentioned courts of any kind. Was this woman some type of royalty?
She does not seem excited to return to these courts, whoever they are, Maurice thought dryly. The two of them danced across the clearing, weapons sparking. The woman made sure to keep Maurice out of arm’s reach.
“I think—” clang “—we’ve had a bit of—” twing “—a misunderstanding.” Maurice hooked his blade on the edge of hers, quickly twisting it towards the ground. As it slipped out of her hand, he placed a thick boot on its handle, trapping the woman in place. He looked up into her eyes—
—and huffed out a breath as her boot connected with his chest. He staggered, the wind knocked out of him.
“Misunderstanding? Oh, I think I understand perfectly,” the woman snapped. Maurice growled just as she ducked, sweeping Maurice’s legs out from under him. He landed hard on his back but rolled out of the way before she could try to pin him again. Leaping to his feet, he grabbed her fists before she could hit him. She struggled, nearly breaking out of his grip, but he held tight.
“Who are you? Why are you here?”
“Let go of me!”
“Not before you give me some answers,” Maurice growled. Giving a final, fruitless tug, the woman stilled. She curled a lip at Maurice.
“I’ve got time,” he said.
The woman stared at him for a while, then sighed. She nodded towards the area behind Maurice. “I’m here for the beacon.”
Maurice raised an eyebrow. So she could see it too.
“Now it’s my turn to ask some questions, Court scum,” she said. “How did you know I would be here?”
Maurice blinked. “I didn’t. And I’m not ‘court scum’. I don’t even know what that is.”
“Nice try. I know you’ve been searching for me.”
“Don’t flatter yourself. I wish I’d never met you, much less looked for you.”
The woman narrowed her eyes, twisting her head to the side. “You weren’t sent by the Queen?”
A Queen! She really is royalty! And one that seems to be in a load of trouble. Who was this woman? Maurice looked her up and down. Ragged rips were hastily sewn up with rough cords and prominent stains of mud and grime still poked through on her coat. She looked like she’d been on the road for a while now, and she was worse for wear because of it.
“…no?”
The woman’s expression shifted, becoming more somber. She looked past Maurice, staring off into space. Maurice chewed his lip. Now that she wasn’t actively trying to kill him, he felt a twinge of sympathy. She seemed to be in a similar place as him, not long ago.
His village had been destroyed by a group of pillaging bandits just over a year ago. Even though he was actively searching for those who destroyed his home, he could understand wanting to simply flee the danger. If this woman was fleeing her home, her Queen, and thought he was involved with them, of course she would fight. He would do the same.
“If I let go of you, will you not attack me?” he asked. The woman nodded, not looking at him.
Maurice eased his grip, holding his hands up in front of him and taking a couple steps back. When the woman didn’t react, he knelt and picked up her weapon, keeping his eyes on her the entire time. He also kept himself between the woman and the strange stone behind him. Even though she said she could see the beacon as well, he didn’t trust her or what she wanted with the stone. For some reason, he felt a need to protect it. Sheathing his own sword, he tucked her glaive behind his back.
That got her attention.
“Hey!”
“I’ll give it back once you start being a little nicer.”
The woman glowered, staring at her weapon. Keeping her in his periphery, Maurice crossed the clearing to the beacon. He picked up the stone, turning it in his hands. The woman peered at it as well.
At first glance, it seemed to be an unremarkable hunk of rock. It was lopsided, one half nearly twice the size of the other, with weird bumps like a half-formed, partially dried ball of clay. The exterior seemed to have chipped off in a couple places, causing the interior to reveal itself. The interior was clear and opalescent, contrasting starkly with the deep blue shades of the exterior. It was honestly difficult to look at, causing Maurice to squint.
“What is it?” the woman asked.
“That’s just what we were going to ask,” said another voice. Maurice and the woman whirled around. Two more figures stood just outside the beacon’s light.
