Chapter 25: A Shift in Perspective

Jace “Quickshot” Leál

A small hand weakly tapped me on the thigh, and I released my hold on Ayla. For a moment, there was hesitation, as if she didn’t want the comfort she sought in me to end. In truth, neither did I, but the insistence with which the boy’s hand tried for my attention was difficult to ignore. I angled my head to look down at the boy, and Ayla followed my gaze.

“Silas!” Ayla exclaimed. Her tears forgotten, she brushed aside the sticky, bloody locks matted on his forehead. Now Ayla fussed with the boy—whose name I now knew—checking his face, neck, and body for injuries until she was satisfied that the healing magic had done its job.

Of course, it had. It had been a very powerful spell. However, it was surprising to see the boy awake. Such rapid healing was always accompanied by profound exhaustion.

The boy seemed to be fighting the grip of sleep to try and get mine or Ayla’s attention. His eyes kept darting toward the south wall—no, not the wall; the room door.

By the time I realized what he was trying to convey, the boy was asleep again. And it was already too late.

Suddenly the door to the room swung open and slammed against the wall. My heart skipped a beat, and my hand twitched for my weapon. Ayla turned quickly and drew hers, though her movements were just a fraction too slow, her body betraying the toll her wounds had taken.

A familiar young woman with short orange hair burst through the doorway, scowling, her mouth half-opened as if to chew someone out. Then she took one look at the situation—the blood on both Ayla and the boy were impossible to miss—and her anger instantly melted into shock. Concern quickly followed as she darted forward. “Ayla, are you alright? What happened?”

I watched as Renn’s eyes scanned the room, moving quickly from Ayla to the boy, then to me, and back to Ayla, lingering on her ears. —now fully exposed, I realized, as her headwrap, already sitting precariously on her head, chose that moment to fall away completely.

Shock registered on Renn’s face, and in an instant, her expression shifted multiple times as a series of realizations each fell into place like pieces in a puzzle. Her lips parted slightly, as if carefully choosing her next words, her eyes locked on the elf’s sword as she took a small step back.

Aylas muscles were tensed at the subtle movement, like a spring ready to release.

“Ayla, hold.” I growled—to my relief, she obeyed.

My stomach churned. This was the worst possible scenario. Why did Renn have to come now of all times? With Ayla’s secret exposed at the heart of the city, would we be able to get away? Would we need to cut Renn down, a girl who’d been nothing but generous and friendly toward us?

In general, however, Renn’s reactions were developing in quite a different way than expected. In a territory where elves were feared and forbidden to enter even as slaves; where they were regularly perceived as an existential threat; confronted with this reality, the young merchant was becoming…amused?

“Well this explains a lot.” Renn’s tone was casual as she peeked over her shoulder into the hallway, then shut the door before anyone else could see inside. She turned to us, the corner of her mouth twisted upward in a knowing smile. “Ballsy, hiding in plain sight in a city like this. Meh, probably not as rare as you think, though.”

Ayla and I exchanged glances.

Renn let out an exasperated sigh. “You can put that sword away. I won’t bite, and I’m not gonna run around screaming elf, elf! Or something equally stupid. Believe it or not, this makes my situation much easier.” Renn unslung her backpack and walked right past Ayla, who still held her sword aloft, and toward the bed.

Ayla looked to me for guidance and I shrugged. She sheathed her sword, groaning as she moved her injured shoulder. Clearly her stand had been largely bravado, given the range of motion she now displayed. Her shoulder—and all her wounds, for that matter—needed to be dressed. I still didn’t know what kind of trouble she’d gotten into, but I could guess. It obviously had to do with the boy, and the presence of a rare carbuncle likely played an important part.

Renn didn’t bother looking over her shoulder as she began to empty her bag, her movements careful and deliberate, lest a sudden movement cause concern. She removed a medium sized tin box, several rolls of bandages, vials and tinctures—all things I recognized as first aid gear. “So I’m sleeping peacefully and dreaming about a hunk with juicy arms and the prettiest shoulders you’ve ever seen—when I get a knock on the door like the guard’s come to arrest me. She tells me that one of my hires is running around like she just butchered a cow and got blood all over her carpet and stairs. I thought she was exaggerating, but brought some of the stuff we take on the road…for emergencies.”

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

Something about the way she told her story didn’t sound right. Not a lie, but not all the truth either. When she’d finished laying out the supplies, they almost looked like what field medics carried on the battlefield: the tin box held sutures, needles, and forceps designed for extracting bullets. Alongside it were tourniquets, clotting agents, and antiseptics… No, this wasn’t just similar to field medic gear: it was exactly that.

Not your everyday carry. Her backpack was nondescript, but that tin can had the insignia of the Medical Core: the jar and conch—symbols of Antari, the legendary first doctor who brought the mundane healing arts to the world after the gods whispered their secrets to him via a sacred conch shell.

Not many outside those who fought in the Dominion’s military would remember the symbol.

Renn caught me staring at the insignia and she raised an eyebrow. “Jace, you were a soldier.” She paused, acknowledging she knew the insignia hadn’t gone unnoticed, and that I would recognize it. “You know how to use this equipment, or do I need to show you?”

“I know plenty.” I said, picking out the essentials I would need right away: scissors, antiseptic, anesthetic tincture… “Ayla, sit on the bed. Drink this.” I unpopped the lid and put it to my nose, then handed her the tincture. She hesitated, then took it warily, then mimicked me, sniffing the contents.

“Is this a liquor?” Ayla glared at Renn with mistrust. She rolled her eyes and pointed at me.

“It’s a mixture of distilled herbs and seeds, and yes, a strong liquor as well. It is designed to numb your pain. I need you to keep still as I remove the shot from your head and shoulder. Just looking at it I can tell it’s going to be very unpleasant otherwise.”

Ayla was still reluctant, but at my insistence, and perhaps as a result of her growing pain and exhaustion, she caved, drinking the entire solution in one grimacing swallow. The effects were almost immediate. This particular tincture would have been made by a master alchemist using both the mundane and magical disciplines. Even being over twenty years old, it was just as strong as if it was made yesterday.

Ayla’s eyes sagged slightly and tension in her muscles lessened somewhat. It would be some time before the medicine took full effect, but the pain numbing should already be helping. While we waited, I’d need to disinfect the tools. I emptied the tin, checking that the inside was clean, then poured a bottle of an antiseptic solution.

It had been a long time since I’d dressed wounds like this. I knew I could do it. I just hoped I wouldn’t do a shit job.

While I worked, Renn crossed over to the table where the boy had finally fallen unconscious, the carbuncle still curled at his neck. “So what’s the story with the kit?”

Ayla’s jaw tightened, and she struggled against the sedative effects of the tincture. Preparing to pounce at the slightest provocation. “None of your business.” Ayla slurred.

I laid a hand on Ayla’s leg in an attempt to calm her down.

“Fine, don’t tell me. Boy is this little guy a cutie.” Renn made cooing noises and scratched the carbuncle’s head lightly. It shifted, then snuggled even closer into the boy’s neck. “Alright, I guess I’ll bug the innkeeper to get a hot bath running. While I’m at it I’ll bring some clothes for the kit, I’m sure I have something that’ll fit him.” She started heading for the door, but Ayla wouldn’t have it.

Ayla, despite her growing numbness, forced herself to her feet and awkwardly unsheathed her sword with her off hand. Her right arm had gone limp. “How can we trust her? How do we know she won’t give us away?”

I didn’t think Renn would do that. The medical supplies could be a distraction from a clever girl biding her time, but my gut told me otherwise. Of course, my gut had been wrong before. Rather than intervene, I waited to see how Renn would respond.

“Relax.” Renn threw up her hands. “You aren’t the only ones in the world with secrets. It’s not like—actually we should be… Alright fine. Anyway I look at this, y’all are going to question whether I’m telling the truth or just trying to pull one over ya. So here.”

I didn’t think Renn had more surprises in store. I was wrong.

Renn grabbed the bottom hem of her shirt with both hands and pulled it over her head. I caught a glimpse of pale flesh and freckles then turned away almost at the same time as Ayla interposed herself between me and the half naked young woman.

“What…do you think you are doing!” My voice came off choked and I felt my face flush. I’d completely lost composure.

Ayla exclaimed something much the same as my sentiment and rattled off more curses and foul language than I’d ever heard her utter. I heard Renn undoing her belt buckle next, and Ayla’s voice only rose higher as she shrieked at the young woman’s current actions as if they posed an even greater threat than the potential for betrayal.

There was a rustling of cloth, a sound akin to cracking bone, then silence. Whatever Ayla saw had caught her tongue. Then the scent of magic filled the air.

All sense of indignation and embarrassment I felt shed instantly in the face of the new threat. “Get down, Ayla!” I turned, drawing my weapon in the same smooth motion—then stopped cold.

My jaw dropped at what I saw.

Renn, wrapped in a subtle orange mist, was in the final stages of a transformation. When it was done, in her place there stood a very large fox.