Return to White River

     “Do ye think it’ll work Officer Moore?” Draikriel asked, her voice barely a whisper.

     Shaylin glared at the White Draik, then put the tip of his broad white wings to his mouth.

     “Oh. Sorry ‘bout that.”

     “SHHHHHH!” The sound came from behind her as Leanna O’Fallon used her best librarian shush. Draikriel wasn’t sure why the Lenny was allowed to hide out with her and Shaylin. Everyone else was hiding out in other parts of the small town, fortified in and waiting for the attack. They weren’t sure when it was going to happen, but they were as prepared as possible.

     Shaylin had ordered a strict town-wide curfew, ordering no townsperson to be out alone during the day and to shut themselves in at night. The marketplace was shut, along with all civic buildings such as the town hall and library.

     Thanks to the Arriola family and Ian Darrow’s generous donations, various sections of the town were filled to the brim with homemade traps. Farm implements and various bits of scrap made up many of them, put together under Shaylin’s guidance and direction.

     The doorknob rattled for a moment, then there was a slight thud. Draikriel heard a low mutter, then the door opened wide. Standing in the dim light, backlit by the sun, a figure moved into the doorway. And of course, he promptly fell right into their trap.

     A well-placed gardening hoe sprung up from the floor and hit the intruder right in the face.

     “By Bart’s Hat!” The intruder stumbled further, tripping over a wooden bucket and falling face-first to the ground.

     Shaylin and Draikriel moved fast, Shaylin tying the intruder’s arms while Draikriel lowered one of her father’s swords at the thrashing figure. The sword glinted in the sunlight streaming in the door, and the figure stilled as she worked a cloth into their mouth to muffle their cries.

     “Allow me to shed some light on the subject,” Leanna remarked, before a tongue of fire leapt into her palm with a snap of her fingers.

     All three townspeople gasped when they realized who was in their trap.

     Trussed up like a present on Christmas morning, Charrie Riddle lay on the floor of the town hall, his mouth stuffed with one of Draikriel’s handkerchiefs. His eyes were gleaming with frustration, and they could hear his muffled shouts behind the cloth.

     “Geef mee ooot of eeert.”

     “It appears to be some sort of civilian,” Shaylin muttered.

     “Yes, Officer. And he’s one of ours, so how about we get him out?” Leanna replied.

     “Uh…let me remove that handkerchief. Sorry.” Draikriel whispered.

     “Gah. What in the name of Jhudora and her minions are all of you doing?” Charrie bit out.

     The three exchanged a glance for a moment before Draikriel used the sharp edge of her sword to cut Charrie loose.

     “Well, laddie, it all began when you decided to leave your best friends and the one you l-” Leanna began.

     “—The ‘own’s in danger.”

     Charrie’s head swivelled towards Draikriel, his eyes narrowing.

     “Leanna. I don’t need the long version. Go on, miss.”

     “Uh…Officer Moore, can you and Ms. O’Fallon begin resettin’ the traps? I’ll ‘et this…civilian know what’s ‘oing on.”

     The Pteri and Lenny nodded, as the Draik led Charrie further back into the town hall.

     As quickly as possible, Draikriel told Charrie about the situation, warning him of Shaylin’s current “state” and Portia’s departure. She saw his eyes quickly darken when she began to mention Portia’s plan. He lifted his hat off of his head, running his fingers through his cropped brown hair.

     “You have no idea where she went, then?”

     “Somewhere in the ‘orth, Charrie. On my advice, supposedly.”

     “And what advice did you give her?”

     “I told ‘er that the enemy of my enemy is my friend.”

     Charrie promptly bit back a few choice words, then sighed.

     “Why are you not ‘appy? Please tell me she’s not in danger.”

     “If she got the right advice? She’s not in much danger. If she got the wrong advice…? She could be in a heap of trouble.”

     “By Fyora’s wrinkles. She left a few days ago. I ‘ope she comes ‘ack safe.”

     Charrie signed, letting his fingers rub his forehead absentmindedly. Then, he stopped and his ears picked up.

     “She’s here.”

     “What?”

     “Portia’s in White River. And she has someone with her.”

     “How do you know this?”

     “Because if she wasn’t here, I wouldn’t be off-balance,” Charrie replied, placing his hat on his head once more before swiftly exiting the room.

     “Off ‘alance? WHAT DO YOU MEAN?!?!?!” Draikriel shouted after him.

     —

     She stepped from the shade of the forest on the outskirts of town, and her green shadow followed. After tense hours of negotiation, they had come to an agreement, and Rita had insisted on accompanying Portia back to the town.

     "Ye never know. They may be waitin' for yer return."

     "Just let them try. They'll find that my body still remembers the conditioning of war." Portia replied with a smirk.

     With that, the green ixi hiked her bow up over her shoulder and pointed to the south through the trees.

     "I know a faster way to yer 'ome. The locals ne'er go through the forest because of me friends and I. Lost of time they be losin' too, but when yer with me...'tis not an issue."

     They began the trek back, two ixi moving silently through the trees. There were many instances where Portia had almost lost sight of Rita altogether, her green clothing hiding her among the foliage. But they had made it back without much incident.

     They had just entered the vacant market area, and Rita and Portia shared a worried glance.

     "I guess Shaylin took my advice seriously about having the town fortified."

     "Or they've already been raided."

     "I try to think more positively than that."

     "Okay. I'm positive something bad ‘as ‘appened."

     Portia’s following chuckle died on her lips as she spotted the hazy outline of figures approaching. Effortlessly Rita grabbed her bow, nocking an arrow to the taut string. Portia shifted her weight to the pads of her feet, drawing her shoulders back.

     "If they're unfriendlies, split up. Get behind one of the closed stalls and cover me."

     "Aye. I've got enough arrows to 'ake down a few before me own magic will 'ave to be used."

     Portia nodded. They waited a few tense moments more before she saw the outline of a hat that she knew very well. She relaxed her stance slightly but still kept her feet apart.

     “Rita. I’m going to have to apologize.”

     “Why lassie?”

     “Because although the people coming mean no harm, I’m going to do something incredibly unladylike.”

     ——

      He had felt her the moment she was on the outskirts. The fire that raged within her calling to his own magic, taunting and drawing it within the same breath. He ran down the abandoned cobblestone streets, breath heaving, heart-pounding, and stopped when he spotted her figure across the marketplace.

     She looked as lovely as he remembered. Her dark red tresses peeking out in tendrils from below her felt hat. She turned her eyes towards him, and he saw her expression harden slightly.

     “Oh boy.” He mumbled.

     She approached him silently, her feet not even rattling the cobbles of the marketplace. He noticed the strange green-covered figure behind her, but Portia seemed unworried.

     “Mister Riddle.”

     “Madam Mayor.”

     A second later, Charrie was sprawled on the ground for the second time that day. Portia stood above him, one fist clenched and the other with bruised knuckles. For a moment, Charrie noticed how beautiful she looked, with her eyes blazing pure fire at him and her entire stance rigid. But the moment passed quickly as she spat venom at him.

     “If you’re done with whatever occupied your oh-so-precious time, Mister Riddle, perhaps you can stop by the Mayor’s office and pay the back taxes due on your property. And perhaps while you’re at it, you can stop by the library, and pick up all of the mail that your friend picked up on your behalf. Since you carelessly left town without telling anyone when you’d return.”

     With that, she turned tail and stalked off, with Charrie looking at her through the only eye that was not swelling shut. He gave a pained laugh and began dusting himself off when a low whistle came from behind him.

     He turned his head and saw the strange green-covered Ixi behind him. She offered him a hand, and he took it with slight hesitation.

     “What in the name of Skarl’s belly did ye do to ‘er laddie?”

     “I believe I made her miss me a bit too much.” He replied with a chuckle that quickly turned into a groan.

     “She sure ‘as an odd way of showin’ it, aye?”

     “Aye…I never got your name.”

     “Rita. Rita of the Wood.”

     “I’ve heard of you.”

     “As have I, Charrie Riddle. And ’tis nice to confirm what I ‘uspected up close.”

     Charrie tilted his head slightly, eyeing the green-eyed lass.

     “I can’t solve all of yer problems. One of them I know ‘ery well what it ’tis, but I can only ease yer pain. The one who can ‘olve it…she’ll be wantin’ to meet with ye later.”

     “And how are you going to solve my so-called problem?”

     “The ‘ame way I calm me friend out of ‘er moods. Come.”

     The ixi put a hand on his shoulder, and as they walked towards the town she began to hum.

     It started low at first, the melody simple enough that Charrie could follow along. But as they walked further along, Charrie realized that something inside of him was shifting. The simple tune called towards his soul, reminding him of waves crashing ashore during a storm, the soft patter of rain, and the rolling feeling of the sea under the deck of a ship. He felt the simmering power within him ease, and he let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

     “Feel better laddie?”

     “Aye. Thank you Rita.”

     “I regret to tell ye, ’tis temporary. Yer gonna be off-balance again within a few hours' time. But it should give ye enough of an edge to go fix things with Portia.”

     Charrie could only nod.

To be continued…