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Words were getting in the way again.
“Going to have a slumber party. Chat the night away.” Mirana muttered as Marci unloaded their gear from Sagan. Marci let out a slow breath. It was going to be a long night. Together but separately, they built a camp and fire. Marci and Mirana left the camp to hunt which gave Mirana a reprieve from the Coedwig girl and Marci a reprieve from all the bickering. That’s all they’d done since they set out from the broken peaks, bicker, bicker, bicker with Marci watching helplessly from the back.
This was the first moment of silence Marci could remember, and it was only because hunting rabbits required silence and listening: two traits no one in this party was very good at. If she could, Mirana would be complaining or muttering right now, but words would only cost them their dinner. Even though Mirana didn’t speak, Marci was aware of her frustration by her heavy breathing and rapid movements, but once she focused on their task and the Coedwig girl was out of mind and view, she began to calm down. Observing this, Marci pressed her lips in thought. It would benefit them all if they traveled with this sort of silence. If they couldn’t speak, they would be forced to focus on the purpose of their journey. They’d be forced to think, to consider, and in silent contemplation, they might even come to an understanding. Of course, this would only happen if they were absolutely incapable of speaking, so the bickering would continue, along with the careless words, the empty threats, and the thoughtless jibes.
Marci wondered if she had not lost her voice, would she be so careless with her own words? What would she say if she could? There were many times she’d wanted to tell Mirana her thoughts, to counter her, give her perspective, or simply just point out Davion’s amazing biceps. She did manage to reply to communicate in her own way, but every eyebrow gesture and quirk, every facial cue was crafted from careful thought, something words didn’t need. This had made her a good listener. As though to prove it to herself, she heard a rustle in the bushes and whistled for Mirana. But would she be a good listener if she wasn’t limited to facials and hand gestures? She’d been raised as a servant, so even when she had a voice, she didn’t use it a lot. She’d been taught to be demure, observant, patient, and silent and to defer to Mirana. Perhaps, it wouldn’t change a thing.
“Let’s hurry back,” Mirana said now that the need for silence had passed. “I don’t like leaving Davion alone with that Coedwig girl.”
Marci raised an eyebrow. She did it without thought. It was something like a question, something like a jibe. Who don’t you trust?
“Of course I trust Davion. It's her I don’t trust,” she said putting a disgusted emphasis on her. Marci couldn’t help it. She lowered her head, raising the eyebrow higher and added a little smirk. Trust them not to do what?
Mirana snorted. “Honestly, Marci, I’m not jealous. It’s not like that. I don’t expect them to ...” She waived her hand dismissively and her pace quickened toward the camp. She was flustered and she wasn’t finishing her sentences, so Marci was close to being on the nose. Davion and Fymryn had been getting friendly, maybe more so now that they were alone. She wondered how many words she had for certain things and if she’d really find it so bad to be with only one person, especially if that person was Davion. Marci blushed and laughed inwardly and wished she could share what she was thinking. She gasped. By the Dawn's star, maybe she would be just as bad as the rest.
Back at the camp, Davion was not naked, so they hadn’t gotten too friendly while they were gone. In fact, he hadn’t even taken off his armor, but that unusual behavior was usual for him. He slept in it, ate in it, traveled in it. That said something without saying anything. Fear? Vulnerability? Fear of vulnerability? Was he just refusing to remove anything that protected him? From what? Maybe just the nearby air dragons, but she felt like it was more. He was trying to conceal more than just Slyrak. Then again maybe the armor simply couldn’t come off because of the Invoker’s enchantment. That seemed unlikely, but she supposed it was possible. All the same, she felt it was more a choice.
He was sitting at the fire with Fymryn. They’d been talking before Mirana and Marci returned, but they fell silent at the sight of them. They joined them, and for the first time since they set out on their journey everyone was quiet, but it was a loud silence: tense like an argument and tinged with unspoken feelings and words. So this is what it would be like if they were all like her. It was better this way. Of course, in place of words, they might just start hitting each other. So strong was their desire to mistrust and insult one another. The silence was proof of something Marci had long observed that went beyond the notice of those who relied too much on the fish-flapping of mouths. Communication was mostly made of nonverbals. Less than half of which was vocal, with even less being words. Words just got in the way: lied, exaggerated, wounded, and misled. If they’d all just look at each other right now instead of staring into the flames they’d see it: the truth. The girl, hunched over, holding her legs spoke of loneliness, sadness, hopelessness … regret. Mirana, sitting upright and stiffly was … well pissed and suspicious. Then there was Davion. Despite his casual leg spread with his forearm resting on his thigh, he was worried. He would never say so, which was why words were useless. But at the moment he wasn’t worried about himself; his focus was on the other members of the group.
Marci smiled. He was observant too and a decent listener. He’d spent the day walking ahead and talking with Fymryn about life and trees and 87 words for moonlight, none of which he could pronounce. He told Mirana all about it with a good-natured smile and laughter when they’d stopped for camp, but Mirana was not receptive. She was only interested in learning if the Coedwig girl had spoken about her. She listened, not for the meaning, but to pick things apart for motives and secrets. Marci knew why Mirana was suspicious of her, but Davion didn’t, and the mockery that followed was inevitable and a little deserved. It would have been easier if they’d included him in.
Marci glanced at the Coedwig girl as Davion addressed her, at last breaking the silence. “You’re quiet.” It seemed the Coedwig girl had run out of things to say. She probably only had one word for lonely, Marci thought, and that word was written all over her face.
“I’m not very good at being alone. You’re lucky you have your pod with you.”
Marci choked, waiving her arms to counter. She loved Mirana. They’d grown up together. She was many things to her: Her princess, her sister, her friend, but she'd never been a lover. Davion on the other hand. She’d be lying to herself if she thought he was not an attractive man. After all, she’d seen him naked at least a dozen times now. Tan and aggressively muscled but with boyish charms. If Mirana thought so too, she was better at hiding it, but Marci’s face couldn’t lie. She was mute after all: not blind.
The Coedwig girl seemed shocked by their answer. Moreso by the notion of having only one lover.
“One lover at a time.” Davion corrected her. “Usually.” Well, that mischievous tone said a lot without saying it. Typical brutally honest Davion.
“One person: the same person every night?” The girl exclaimed.
Davion started to answer, but Mirana shut him down. He worked the conversation back to her pod. Fymryn continued. There were more of them, she explained, so more fighting, but they were family. Marci paused eating and looked around her group. It had just been her and Mirana for the longest time. There were more of them now. Four of them, five if she counted Sagan. And like she said, there were more ups, more downs, more fighting. Maybe they were like a pod after all. A quick look at Mirana told her she was not sharing her sentiment.
The girl’s face fell as Davion asked if they were waiting for her. She drew her knees up to her chin. “No one is waiting for me.”
“I’m sorry,” he said.
Mirana’s voice was cold as she stood, her stance as challenging as her words. “Don’t you dare take pity on her. This is her doing. Her choice.”
The girl stood off against her, drawing her weapons and Mirana pulled out her bow. It had all happened so fast. Marci froze, but quick-thinking—or at least quick acting—Davion stepped between them.
“We’re not doing this,” he said more a plea than command.
"I’ll shoot through you," Mirana said.
Marci’s eyes widened at the unanticipated response. That was a lie, an empty threat, it had to be, but there was a strange chill in her voice that introduced just the hint of doubt. Would she? Could she shoot him: the man who helped them at the tavern? The man who got them to the Invoker’s Tower? The man she was pretty sure Mirana loved? She shook her head. She couldn’t trust her words. Actions were so much louder than words, which was why she liked Davion. That and the fact that he was handsome and often naked. A lot of men were all talk, but Davion had the kind of bravery and stupidity to back up his words. Defending the elf in the bar, saving Mirana in the ice storm, and again when they were attacked by Slyrak. He never ran from a fight because he’d never abandon anyone. All his actions backed up his words. But Mirana didn’t always say what she thought, so Marci watched her closely, but when she remembered their first encounter with the Coedwig girl, she knew her answer. Mirana spared her when she stole the lotuses. She would not shoot Davion. She sighed in relief and lowered her shoulders.
Luckily the girl didn’t test her. She broke away and tore away into the woods. “I just want to go home.” She cried in childish despair, reminding her of a 14-year old Mirana when she came to the Night Silver Woods. She would have shared this thought with Mirana, but there weren’t hand gestures or whistles for that. She sighed. Even if she could, Mirana would reject the comparison.
Davion's voice rose in anger. “You said nothing to me about--”
“I couldn’t let her know I knew. I had to know what she would not say.”
“So you kept me in the dark. You used me,” he said reactively, without thought. Boiling over with feeling. If he only paused to consider. If he’d only listen.
“I tried to tell you.”
No she hadn’t. Marci crossed her arms. A lie.
Mirana went on to blame Davion for why she kept her silence. Davion tried to explain, but she cut him off.
“You're not talking to me. I must have done something to earn your silence. You could at least tell me what.”
That was true. And his stunned silence confirmed it. Whatever words he left unspoken, he drowned with whiskey every morning. Marci watched his face. He looked to the side as he answered, a tell that he was keeping a secret. So bluntly honest Davion was not always so bluntly honest.
“You did nothing.” He admitted, his voice lowered apologetically with just a hint of guilt.
Mirana eyed him untrusting, her arms crossed, guarded. It didn’t help that Mirana had taken his silence and refusal to share her tent personally. She didn’t forget slights. If Marci could speak, she’d explain her reasons to Davion. He’d be less frustrated if he knew she didn’t like betrayal because her uncle killed her parents and forced her into exile. Recent events only validated Mirana’s fear of betrayal. It seemed that everywhere they went they were being manipulated and backstabbed. It was no wonder she didn’t trust anyone, even Davion whose honesty almost seemed too good to be true. It made her a little self-righteous, yes, but she had a good heart, this Marci knew. Davion was good too. Marci was sure they could trust him, despite what he was not saying. She watched Davion hopefully. Perhaps if he explained, but he didn’t. He went to look for the Coedwig girl. They should wait for Davion or better yet, go with him. Marci beckoned to Mirana but she sauntered off to their tent. Marci huffed. No one was listening to her.
With no one to argue with, Mirana began to argue with herself. She talked too much. This was a habit of hers. She could go on a tirade of complaints or thinking out loud that lasted for hours. She was talking to Marci, but it seemed she was talking more to herself, almost to convince herself more than her handmaid that she was right. Her trail of thoughts could usually be stopped with a stern look or raised brow, but she wasn’t looking her way. Marci stared at the ceiling of their tent and sighed. Mirana lied to herself a lot for a woman who hated deceit. She’d tried to convince herself that she didn’t need to help Davion when they found him naked on the forest floor. She lied that she’d tried to kill the Coedwig girl. She lied that it was her fault, that she was not who she once was. That she was the princess of nothing. She was unsure, insecure, afraid. Mirana turned on her side as she began to talk about Davion. She wasn’t sure if it was voluntary. Maybe there was a feeling she was afraid Marci would see. Feelings about him she was not ready to share.
“I can’t believe he took her side. It's maddening. I never met anyone kinder, braver—except you, of course—or true to his word.” Marci nodded. “She destroyed our lives.” Her voice broke a little. Marci's heart ached for her. She wasn’t blaming the Coedwig girl. Not really. She was blaming herself. She didn’t blame her, but she didn’t know how to say it except to stand by her side in all things. She was proud of her. She watched her, pouring her admiration from her eyes, but Mirana didn’t notice and went on and on and it was useless to try to stop her. Better to let her work it out with herself. Her eyelids felt heavy, and the words began to sound far away as she slipped into sleep. She thought she heard the tent flap rustle. Thought she saw a shadow moving in the dark.
She thought it had been a dream, but she woke to the sound of Mirana moving hastily about the tent.
“Where is it?”
She only needed to glance where the box had been to know what she meant. It was gone. The lotuses were gone, and there was only one person who would have taken them. Mirana stormed out to find Davion. So much for talking it over with him in the morning and starting fresh. He was asleep on the ground despite offers to join them in their tent. “Your friend came back.” She said, not to be reassuring but to be validated. “She stole the lotuses again.”
They packed their camp as quickly as they could before going after her. Fymryn was hours ahead of them, but Davion soon found traces of her headed right into air-dragon territory.
“Rest easy, that little elf is hard to kill.” Mirana said as though speaking from experience, but Mirana had missed on purpose. There was a sound like a high gust of wind and a screeching roar. Davion turned toward the sound. "They found her.”
They? Air dragons, of course. Her breath caught and she looked to Mirana. Mirana’s face was passive. If she wanted her dead, she might just get her way.
They ran to a ridge to get a better look. Below the elf ran, clutching the box closely. Marci blinked, but her eyes did not decieve her. There were more than one of her, a dozen elves dodging air dragons as they dove and swooped. One snapped and Marci didn’t look away in time, but there was no blood, no crack of bone, just thin air. She was stunned still in amazement. Davion looked on in worry but Mirana calmy reiterated. “I told you she’s hard to kill.”
But not impossible. The Coedwig girl was running out of clones and cover. As the last diversion faded, she took shelter in a cave. Marci let out a breath but something in Davion's face robbed her of relief.
“It’s a nest,” he said, and without another word, he ran toward the cave. That’s what Dragon Knight’s did. That’s what Davion does. Marci watched him with admiration.
“Marci, come,” Mirana called and they followed with Sagan. They reached the cave shortly after him, but he’d already gone inside. Marci looked to Mirana, but she didn’t follow him right away. Marci turned at a sound and spotted three air dragons heading toward them. She whistled to Mirana who quickly shot them down. Perfect, they could provide cover. Mirana missed several but Sagan got one as another flew into the cave after Davion. Damn. She swallowed her fear. He was a dragon knight. He would know what to do. The cave rumbled like a waking volcano. There must be a fight. Marci counted. Two, no three dragons and only one dragon knight. The odds weren’t good. The noises continued inside the cave, and they waited frozen in place until suddenly it was quiet. A rush of air was followed by two dragons as they darted out. They were too quick to shoot and luckily they didn’t attack but disappeared into the sky. They returned their gaze to the cave. The entrance was a dark void, empty and hallow and silent. Had he failed? Was he gone? And the Coedwig girl? Marci swollowed a lump in her throat. Something approached slowly. The echo made it hard to know what it was and how big. Marci clenched her fist. At last Davion appeared and Mirana ran to him. Marci hung back to give them space. From a distance she saw his sidelong glance, but then he looked straight at Mirana as she put her hand on his face. She listened, and he began to speak the words.
They walked on in silence after that, but the silence was changed. It wasn’t hostile or tense though it wasn’t comfortable. It was needed. The words had been spoken. There was no more use for them.
Mirana paused at a rustling bush. “I know you’re there.”
The Coedwig girl appeared. Marci gasped. Even she hadn’t heard her. Mirana must be getting better at listening. Fymryn offered to guide them again and this time she sounded genuine. Mirana tried to object, but Davion interjected. “We’re all going to the same place. We should go there together.”
Mirana and Fymryn agreed reluctantly but solemnly. Well at least if they weren’t listening to Marci, they were all listening to Davion. That was fine by her.
Davion placed his hands on his hips satisfied. "See Friends. Ghat’s great. So, who knows a song? I learned one from the dragons, but it’s not very good.”
Marci smiled and rolled her eyes. Talkers were always looking for ways to kill the silence. Maybe he didn’t want to be alone with his thoughts or he was trying to improve the mood. He always turned to jokes, but his humor couldn’t cover what he was feeling and he wouldn’t be able to hide it forever. She looked to Mirana who smiled softly at his jest, but the smile didn’t reach her eyes. No joke or song was going to lift her spirits after what she’d learned. She sensed her sadness before spotting it in her eyes as she watched Davion regretfully, sadly, and lovingly. Yes, she was certain she loved him.
It was moments like this she wished she could sing, so she could provide a distraction for Davion, comfort for Mirana, and solidarity for the Coedwig girl. But she couldn’t. No one took up his offer and it fell silent again. It was a mutual silence. No one spoke, no one bickered, and no one sang, but Marci heard music in the rustling of the leaves and the singing of the birds in the silence: The kind of silence that brought peaceful accord and understanding.