Stormchild: Emeline and the Forest Mage

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    Erdil

'Sheyå? Sheyå! Sheeeeeeeeeeyå!'

    Färin ran again, and this time something worse than death haunted him. He'd not only lost immeasurable power, in itself a fate more devastating than death, he'd also lost an innocent little girl in a huge, dangerous forest. The most horrible man in the world is what he was. The worst part of it all was that he had no idea where to look. Her tiny footsteps had reached a stream all too soon, and then there'd been no trace of where she'd gone. For Thëlon's sake, he was no tracker.

    'Sheyå!' he called again, his voice cracking with despair on the 'å'.

    The Apprentice appeared in a flash next to him, as though out of thin air, and he jerked back, startled.

    'Any luck, Färin?'

    Bloody wench. Darned witch. Cursed hag. Should've stabbed her when he had the chance. Färin glared at her with deep vehemence. Her coat edges flapped in the fresh morning breeze, accentuating her delectable curves. The stream's water whispered peacefully past them as an accompaniment to her beauty.

    'I told you to go away woman,' he snapped. Look at her, a woman of shadow—a woman of darkness. Her good looks belied her true character. Färin's glare travelled up and down her body in a derogatory fashion as he spewed with these furious thoughts.

    She removed her dark hood and smirked at him. Her cracked eyes pulsated with energy. It only affirmed Färin's previous assessment of her. Evil.

    'Are you going to keep running in circles for the rest of the day?' she said, 'Or would you like to find the girl before night falls?' Obviously she was implying that he was helpless without her, a fact he refused to acknowledge.

    He snorted, exasperated, hands on his hips, as though she had just said the most ridiculous thing in the world. His expression changed from arrogant, to desperate, to cold.

    'What have you done with her,' he said, in as venomous a voice as he could muster, an undertone of false threat in each syllable.

    The Apprentice rolled her eyes, to Färin's horror. 'I don't have her stupid man.'

    He huffed again, trying to appear full of himself, trying to be in control, and most important, trying not to seem desperate. It wasn't working.

    'Well, I... I don't believe that,' his querulous voice squeamed in that same petulant tone. 'You've done something to her. Maybe cursed her, or something of the like...' He scratched his brown mussed up hair.

    'For Thëlon's sake just tell me where she is,' he begged, his desperation breaking the surface.

    'I told you I don't have her,' she said, 'and I haven't done anything to her either.'

    The Apprentice sighed, hands folded over her perfect voluptuous chest. 'If you must know, this is the precise reason why I was sent here. Don't you recall me telling you the dark one was after her?' Her eyes widened, her irritation obvious.

    Färin hadn't been paying that much attention to the woman's crazy ramblings the night before, and now that he recalled it, this did happen to fit in with her story. He rolled his eyes anyway. She didn't need to know he believed her.

    'I don't trust you, Apprentice.' Färin narrowed his eyes. 'But, if you can lead me to Sheyå, then do so.'

    'I—'

    'Now,' he said.

    That anger he had glimpsed the night before simmered about the woman like oily hot air. 'Don't interrupt me boy.' She poked him on the chest with her finger, livid with more anger than was reasonable for the moment.