#ff fantasy

          Elisa squinted as she peered out at Gurdinfield’s countryside, the rolling hills disappearing into flat plains. Farther out, patches of forest dotted the Southlands. She knew on a happier morning the tall grasses would have been glowing a brilliant orange from the typically beautiful sunrise. But the greenish-grey skies streaked with the occasional bolt of lightning looming overhead reminded her that these times were anything but happy.

          A harsh wind ruffled her copper hair, which had become a greasy tangle of curls since leaving Azgadar. Despite the bit of warmth instilled in the breeze, she shivered. The days had been growing colder and every gust of wind since the cataclysm made the threat of Damea’s very life source being drained away a bitter reality.

          “Anything?”

          Elisa turned to meet the inquisitive green eyes belonging to none other than Ithmeera Cadar, empress of the Azgadaran Empire. “No. Not yet.”

          “Yet?” Ithmeera tilted her head.  “You think they still hunt us?”

          “Petra knows you escaped. She’s going to keep sending her thugs after us until she has your head. So yes,” Elisa said, “I believe they still hunt us. Almost certain of it.”

          Ithmeera bit her lip. Desperation crept into her voice. “Those ‘thugs’ are still Legionnaires. My Legionnaires.”

          Elisa returned her gaze to the horizon, scanning everything before her just in case she missed something. She was not in the mood for Ithmeera’s denial this morning. “Yes well, your Legionnaires have attacked us once already since we left Azgadar. Whatever Petra told them was obviously more than enough to convince them to betray you and form this New Legion. Cowards,” she spat. But when Ithmeera did not respond, guilt at her own abrasiveness set in. “Come on.” She gave a pointed tilt of her head signaling that they continue on their path to the City of Towers, where their ally Queen Lydia, her husband Jacob, and Ithmeera’s son Marco were hopefully safe from the chaos that had torn through Damea in the preceding weeks.

          “We’ve been on this path for days,” Ithmeera said, drawing her dark green cloak tighter as she trudged behind Elisa in the dirt. “How much farther before we reach my son?”

          Elisa’s tone softened. “Marco is safe, I promise you.” She turned around. “This would be a faster journey had we taken the main road but that will only make it easier for Petra’s men to find you.”

          “Find me? What makes you think they aren’t looking for you, too?”

          Elisa smirked. “Oh, they’ll just kill me. Probably leave my body in some field and take you back to Azgadar.” When she saw the horrified look on Ithmeera’s face she sighed at her tactless words. “We’ll be fine as long as we stay off the main road. Probably.” She began walking again, with Ithmeera close behind her. “Fimen’s Hope is a few days away. We should be safe there.”

          “I have seen the town on maps. We won’t be attacked there?” Ithmeera asked as they reached the summit of another hill.

          “I helped defend it not long ago,” Elisa explained. “There’s a small outpost of Gurdinfield soldiers there now. They will help us.”

          “Well then, I hope your outstanding reputation with Queen Lydia has reached the ears of these soldiers.”

          Elisa bit back a snap to Ithmeera’s backhanded remark. In truth, the empress’s occasional comments about her service to Gurdinfield were getting tiring and while she had not been welcomed back into the empire’s service with open arms, Elisa half-hoped that Ithmeera at the very least saw her as a Legionnaire again. Perhaps even that is too much to hope for.

          Instead she opted for a more neutral response. “You and me both.”

***

          Late into the evening, the pair sat around a small campfire hidden in one of the clustered patches of trees. Their meager supplies, including Elisa’s dagger and two old swords they had found at her house in Sadford, had been cast to the side of the fire, along with an almost empty cooking pot. Although the sky remained a muted green, Elisa could spot a few stars as she gazed up beyond the rising plumes of smoke from the fire. The typical scurrying of small nocturnal animals running over fallen twigs and call of birds from the trees were something Elisa was used to hearing at night out here. But tonight, there was only the crackling of the fire to keep them company. Whether the animals had migrated somewhere else or something darker was at work due to the cataclysm, Elisa couldn’t tell. Truthfully, she wasn’t sure if she wanted to know. An eeriness hung in the air—Elisa was no poet but if she had to pick one word to describe the savanna tonight, “dying” would have fit perfectly.

          “I will never get used to this.” Ithmeera’s voice broke their prolonged silence. After the sun went down, Ithmeera began to struggle to keep up with Elisa which was a subtle suggestion that they needed to stop and rest for the night before carrying on to Fimen’s Hope in the morning.

           A chilled breeze swept through the trees, disrupting the steady flames and causing Elisa to tuck her knees in before wrapping her arms around them. She looked back at Ithmeera, watching as the shadows from the flames danced upon her soft features. “To what?”

          Ithmeera gestured around them. “This. Sleeping out here in the wilderness. Being away from the city…and Marco.” She looked away, her lower lip quivering.

          “I told you he’s—”

          “I know what you said. You’ve been saying that since we left Azgadar.” The terseness in Ithmeera’s voice gave way to the sadness that settled over them night after night since their escape.

          Elisa shrugged. “Because it’s true.”

          “You don’t know that.”

          All right. Elisa climbed to her feet and walked the few steps over to the pile of blades in the dirt. Ithmeera watched her with curious eyes. “Take one.”

          “Excuse me?”

          “You heard me,” Elisa commanded, surprising herself at her own boldness. “I’m tired of you moping like this every single night. We will get to Marco soon but we can’t do that if Petra’s men find us first.”

          Ithmeera stood up and dusted off the long dark brown dress she’d acquired in Sadford. “Isn’t it a bodyguard’s job to protect her charge?” she asked.

          “I don’t recall being reinstated as such,” Elisa said dryly, noting Ithmeera’s lack of response. She picked up both swords and tested the weight of the one in her right hand before offering it to Ithmeera. “Besides, I can hold off one, maybe two assassins. I can’t protect you from ten men.”

          Ithmeera appeared uneasy as she looked at the sword before grasping the hilt, shifting her weight on her feet slightly as she adjusted to the heaviness of the weapon. “I haven’t used one of these in years, Elisa.”

          Elisa let a smile escape. “No time better than the present to get back into it.” She held up her sword. “Come on, then.”

          Ithmeera glanced at her before looking at her own blade and then back at her. Nervousness entered her tone. “What if I hurt you?”

          That got a deep laugh out of Elisa. “You won’t. Come on. By the time you swing that sword Petra’s men will already be here.”

          Ithmeera rolled her eyes and gave a hesitant swing at Elisa, who stepped back with ease, avoiding the blade entirely.

          Elisa let the blade fall to her side. “That was rather pathetic.”

          “‘Pathetic?’” Ithmeera’s eyebrows went up. “Is that how you speak to all the monarchs you serve or am I the exception?” She rolled her shoulders back. “It’s been a while since I held a sword is all. I’m out of practice and…and I didn’t want to hurt you on accident.”

          Elisa leveled with her. “Your Majesty, Kye was more aggressive than you during our sparring. Surely you recall some of your Legionnaire training.”

          “That was Erik’s interest, not mine,” Ithmeera admitted. “I skipped more lessons than I attended.” She shook her head and raised her sword again. “All right, all right. Again, then.”

          She surprised Elisa when she lunged forward, such that Elisa had to actually block to avoid having her hand cut by the blade, the clang of metal on metal cutting into the quietness of the campsite. She pushed back and parried, hoping Ithmeera would defend herself and was impressed yet again when Ithmeera actually blocked her attack. She grinned, deciding to go for one more attack, and took a step forward. Unfortunately, Ithmeera’s reaction was to step back and as she did so, her boot caught on one of the piles of twigs on the ground and she slipped before falling backwards—arms flailing as the sword fell from her hand.

          Elisa reacted immediately. Her hand shot out to grab Ithmeera’s and caught it, just keeping her from hitting the ground. “Footwork.”

          Ithmeera gazed up at her, breathless—the shock apparent on her face from the quick turn of events. “One of the lessons I skipped, apparently.” She allowed Elisa to help her to her feet and looked down to where her sword had fallen. “I suppose we can add ‘terrible swordswoman’ to the list of reasons behind the Legion’s mutiny against me,” she added with a heavy sigh.

          Elisa’s lips tightened as she picked up the sword and set it down along with her own near their supplies. Ithmeera had been blaming herself for Petra and the New Legion’s actions since their escape and Elisa always felt she never knew the right thing to say. “You did well enough considering how long it’s been since you held a sword.”

          Ithmeera gave her a dismissive wave as she went to prepare her bed for the night. “I don’t need you to try to make me feel better, Elisa.” She arranged the blankets so that they looked mostly comfortable before covering herself with the heavier ones. “I’m going to sleep. You may have the first watch. Good night.”

          Elisa waited until Ithmeera rolled to face away from her before shaking her head in dismay. She had mostly tried to keep Ithmeera’s spirits up during their journey, she really had. What can you say to a woman who has lost her kingdom in a day and whose son is far away in another kingdom to make her feel better? And it didn’t help that Ithmeera found every opportunity to passive-aggressively remind Elisa of her service to Diana after she had fled Azgadar.

          She thought, perhaps in naivety, that after returning Erik’s sword and rescuing Ithmeera when Petra attacked that maybe, just maybe Ithmeera would reinstate her status as a Legionnaire—perhaps even reinstate her as a Royal Guard, even though she had been acting in that capacity ever since they escaped Azgadar together. There had been a few lighthearted moments between them on their journey to the City of Towers so far, even some jokes exchanged, but nothing to indicate that Ithmeera had truly forgiven her for leaving, serving Diana and helping the Guardians, and killing Erik. I am a fool.

          She considering arranging her own blankets to get comfortable but reconsidered when she realized she was already tired and did not want to accidentally fall asleep. Instead she retook her seat by the fire, her thoughts migrating to Andrea and Kye. She hoped they were all right and that Andrea had recovered from whatever injuries she had sustained from the cataclysm. But even if she had, Elisa wondered how they were going to fix this.