Rorri

　　They stripped Rorri down to search for the weapon, but they didn`t find anything. He still didn`t understand it. Its heartbeat haunted him, a phantom at the edge of his mind, but he wanted nothing to do with it. Just the thought of it still filled him with unfiltered rage.

　　They took his blindfold at first, but before long, they put it back on him. Either they were stupid enough to think that it really kept him from seeing, or his black starburst pupils were too disturbing to leave uncovered. They threw him into a jail cell, cold stone walls and iron bars, he imagined, with nothing to wear but rags. They kept him manacled, gave him a chamber pot, and made him sleep on the floor. A magic ward perfumed his cell. He could see it, dense red mist covering the door, sickly sweet and overwhelming. He supposed they had no need for subtlety in the prison, especially not for a criminal of his profile. Still, the smell nauseated him. He never got used to it, and it never went away.

　　After the Gala, the forest dimmed, but it didn`t disappear. He could always see its imprint, and it shifted every day. New trees would sprout and others would shrivel. Flowers bloomed and rotted, sometimes by the minute, sometimes by the hour. One particular flower, a pretty blue lily, stayed for days before it wilted. Sometimes he swatted the trees away, but he never touched the flowers.

　　They kept two guards posted outside of his cell at all times, and one guard posted to watch him, with dozens of others patrolling the prison halls. They decided he was the Widow, not just the accomplice. Some faceless witnesses said they saw him outside the Nellywing Opera House the night of the attack, which he figured was probably true - he never remembered exactly what happened after he blasted the door, but it only made sense that he would have been stumbling around in plain view. The Guard accused him of aiding the Du閚, though they stopped short of saying he was one. He hadn`t heard anyone call him the Black Widow.

　　He listened for murmurings about his accomplice`, but all he gathered was that she was last spotted jumping into the river beneath the Palace. She couldn`t have survived that, they said, though they searched for her just in case. He never heard anything about her body turning up, and they stopped talking about it after a while - she was just the accomplice, after all. If the waterfall didn`t kill her, Rorri feared the explosion of magic might have. He broke his eyes that way, and he was sure he`d expelled only a fraction of what he saw coming from her. He tried not to think about it too much. Instead, it played out in his nightmares, all the things that should have gone differently, the things that never should have happened. Perhaps it was a blessing that he barely slept.

　　The Guard beat Rorri for information about the Du閚 incursion`, and sometimes they beat him just for fun, but he never said a word. When they tortured him, they scraped the tips of their vile green swords against his back, but every time, it burned as if they had buried him in hot coals. Even the guards were startled the first time he screamed, but after that, it only encouraged them. He was a high-profile criminal. He made a huge scene at the Gala. Everyone knew about him. Iridan was surely buzzing with rumors, and the people were surely restless, demanding justice, demanding his death.

　　The Guard still hadn`t found him out, but it was only a matter of time - unless they killed him first. That was his best case scenario. But they were really dragging it out, he thought. After a week had passed, he was begging them to just kill him already. They were wasting their time. He didn`t know anything about the weapon, he said - that much was true, at least - and he didn`t know anything about the Du閚. It didn`t matter how much pain they put him through. He never said a thing.

　　*******

　　When the guards outside Rorri`s cell conversed, they almost always spoke Human, and though Adar had taught him much, most of the language still escaped him. What he gathered seemed like the sort of small talk one might hear between any co-workers. It was rare that he`d see an elf in his blind forest, even rarer that he`d hear his own language. When he did, it was strangely comforting when, despite their unkind words.

　　But one night, shortly after the guards rotated and Rorri was pretending to sleep, he heard someone speaking Elvish with an accent. He feigned as if he were just rolling over and snuck a glimpse of the guard facing him. He couldn`t tell his aura`s color through the red wards, nor could he make out any details of his face or his body, but his ears were distinctly round. The other two guards facing away from his cell were clearly elves, both male.

　　"How`re you lads farin` tonight?" the human said, his voice rough and gravelly.

　　"Oh, can`t complain."

　　"A bit sick of night duty, myself."

　　"Ay, I feel at."

　　The guards fell silent. The human`s voice seemed familiar, but the accent was common among them. Rorri was terrible at picking out voices, anyway. He rolled over again. The stone floor bruised his bony hips.

　　"This the Widow, then, ay?"

　　"The one and only."

　　"He`s set for the gallows in the morning, if I`m not mistaken."

　　Dread poured over Rorri`s body, sticky and cold. What a way to find out.

　　"Bastahd deserves it," the human spit. "I`d take im there myself if I could."

　　Rorri winced. He shut his eyes, though the forest remained as always. He missed the nothingness he had before the Gala. It was far easier to fall asleep in that. He missed Poppy curling up beside him, his soft purr lulling him to sleep. Rorri snuggled into the crook of his arm as well as he could. It was his only pillow.

　　"My mum got me a nice set a` knives fer my birthday," the human said. "Her way of tellin` me I oughtta do more cookin` fer my broad, I reckon."

　　One of the guards chuckled. A shiver tickled Rorri`s neck. The way he emphasized that word - knives - it sounded unnatural...

　　"I ain`t a cook, lads. Got no reason to keep em. They`re sharp, though, I`ll say that much. Prolly cut through rock if ya put yer heart innit. Expensive shite - dunno wot mum was thinkin`, lettin` me have em. Might just hafta sell em."

　　Could it be&?

　　"I`m sure there`s ladies up on the Plateau dyin` fer a bloke to pay er a visit with a spensive setta knives like that."

　　Rorri caught his breath.

　　"So they can cook fer their hubbies or give em to the servants or wot have ya."

　　"I have a friend who might be interested," one of the guards chimed in.

　　"Ye`ll have to put me in touch wif er," the human replied. "The way mum`s been naggin` me about em, even if she do want me ta hang on tight to em, I might just hafta make them knives disappear right quick anyway. Bloody hell, I`d disappear myself if I could. If I could do magic like that, I`d be gone inna second. I`m sure you lot know wot it`s like."

　　It had to be. He was risking his life to do this, to pass a message to Rorri, a message from Shacia. Rorri`s heart raced. He had to pay attention. He had to understand.

　　"Would be nice to have some alone time, for once."

　　"God, tell me about it. I`ve got a kid at home. Talk about nonstop nagging."

　　"Ah, kiddos can`t help emselves. Enjoy that bit while it lasts."

　　The elf scoffed. "Trust me, it`s a lot less cute after the second or third decade."This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

　　Rorri pored over the emphasized words in his head, trying to make sense of it. Cut through rock& hang on tight& disappear&

　　"Fair nough," the human said. "Oi, either of you know any magic? I heard elves is good at it. Me, I can`t do it werf a dock fish."

　　"I took lessons decades ago. Never kept up with it."

　　"I don`t trust it," the other guard said. "It`s like drugs. You get hooked on it, and it corrupts you from the inside out. Can`t believe it`s still legal, especially after what this arsehole in here did."

　　"Nah, mate. Maybe some people ain`t should do it, but it`s done a lotta good, too, ay? Like how this one here`s kept behind them wards. Wot d`ya think he`d do if he wasn`t? He`d find some way out, at`s wot."

　　"Well, that`s what we`re here for, isn`t it?"

　　"Wot if he could go through walls or somefin` like at? We wouldn` be a whole lotta help, then, ay?"

　　Cut through rock& hang on tight& disappear& go through walls&

　　"I`ve never heard of any magic like that."

　　"Doesn`t mean it`s impossible," the former magic student said. "Anyway, you can`t make all magic illegal. Some people do it naturally. Might as well make shitting and pissing illegal, too, while you`re at it."

　　"At`s wot I`m sayin`. Far as I`m concerned, the whole Guard should be taught magic, if we`re gonna be fightin` folks doin` it anyway." He spit on the ground. "Not like makin` it illegal`s gonna stop criminals from doin` it, ay?"

　　"I still don`t trust it," the other guard said.

　　"That`s just because you don`t understand it."

　　"Nobody understands it."

　　"Well, if people weren`t so scared of it, maybe they`d fund some damn research so we could understand it. Then we could stop arseholes like this one before he got as far as he did."

　　Cut through rock& hang on tight& disappear& go through walls&

　　"I can fink a` loads a` ways I`d use magic to stop a goddamn thief. Say I`m facin` a bloke down, I gotsa sword, an` he gotsa daggah. I`d just magic the daggah right inna my own hand - poof - no fancy footwork needed, the sod`s disarmed, I got two weapons an` won the fight wifout even swingin`!" He guffawed. If Rorri needed any more proof it was really him, it was in that ridiculous laugh.

　　"Yeah, but if he knew magic too, he`d just do the same thing back, wouldn`t he?"

　　"Well, then it`s just a matter of who`s better at it. No different than a sword fight, at that point."

　　"And if he don`t know magic, then I got him beat easy. Everyone in the Guard should know how to poof a bastahd`s weapon out from undah him, if y`ask me."

　　Rorri remembered the mysterious pip before that cursed weapon vanished&

　　Cut through rock& hang on tight& disappear& go through walls&

　　"Could do the same with whatever they stole," the former magic student added.

　　"I get your point," the other guard said. "It`s just a slippery slope, that`s all I`m saying."

　　"Ay, well&" The human sniffed and cleared his throat. "I`m headin` to the loo. You`ll be alright wifout me?"

　　Rorri`s heart sank.

　　"Course."

　　"Right, back in a tick. Oh, an` just in case anyfin` happens, lad - I just wontcha t`know I love ya."

　　Rorri flooded with tears, nostrils flaring. He pulled his lips back as far as he could and caught his whimper in his throat. His friend`s heavy footsteps receded down the prison corridor.

　　"...Well, he`s friendly enough."

　　"Yeah, it`s nice meeting a human that isn`t a total dick, for once."

　　"Oh, they`re not all that bad."

　　"Are you kidding me? When was the last time you saw an elf get promoted into an office?"

　　"They only just started letting us join&"

　　Rorri stopped listening. He knew Reggie wasn`t coming back after that. He had delivered the message. Rorri just had to figure the rest out.

　　Magic the dagger right inna my own hand&

　　ba-dum ba-dum ba-dum ba-dum

　　There it was again, that sickening heartbeat. Rorri`s hand tingled, the same hand the weapon had pierced. It felt like the pins and needles one might get when they`ve fallen asleep on a limb, but then it stung, then burned, then boiled. He could see the magic pooling like blood in his hand, just as thick and red. He fought to quell his stomach, fought to keep his anger contained&

　　Pip.

　　Rorri released a pained sigh. The weapon filled his palm as if he`d never tossed it away. He hooked his finger through the hole in the center and maneuvered the flat of the blade to rest between his manacles, his hand covering the hilt so it was hidden from view. He glanced towards the guards. They were still chatting, still facing away.

　　Cut through rock& hang on tight& disappear& go through walls&

　　He nudged the tip of the blade towards the floor to test how well the stone resisted it. It looked and felt as if he were just pushing it into the forest`s undergrowth, and it made the same gentle scraping sound as if he were stabbing into coarse dirt - but it was stone, the same cold, hard stone he`d been sleeping on for a week. He worked the blade in as silently as he could, pausing when the guards came to a lull in their conversation, resuming when they spoke again&

　　"He`s been gone for a minute, hasn`t he?"

　　"Maybe his dinner`s coming back to haunt him. He said he isn`t a chef."

　　The two elves snickered.

　　"Well, one of us should probably watch the prisoner until he gets back."

　　"Yeah, you`re right."

　　Rorri`s heart skipped. His digging turned feverish, panicked.

　　"What - hey! What are you doing?"

　　He jumped at the sharp sound of swords being unsheathed. He`d only worked the weapon in an inch or two - what was he even supposed to do from there?

　　"Is that - where the hell did that come from?"

　　"Go get reinforcements!"

　　BA-DUM BA-DUM BA-DUM BA-DUM

　　He couldn`t tell if it was his heart pounding or the weapon`s. He couldn`t fight them, even with the knife in his hand - he just couldn`t do it. Even if he weren`t outnumbered, even if he weren`t exhausted&

　　Their light silhouettes scrambled towards him. He heard keys jingling, fumbling, and then the door scraped open. All at once, the images flared before his mind`s eye:

　　A slow walk to the gallows, arms in manacles,

　　an angry crowd taunting, condemning.

　　Shacia, alone in her study, waiting for her tutee to arrive&

　　Rorri broke into a sob. The guards closed in, shouting orders that no longer reached his ears. He didn`t know what else to do.

　　Hang on tight...

　　Rorri raised his fists high, gripping the weapon with both hands, and brought it down with all the power his weak little arms could muster. The blade sank into the rock. His whole body vibrated with some foreign, foul magic, and held on as tight as he could.

　　D I S A P P E A R

　　Pip.