Arinthal sighed for the umpteenth time that evening as he hid beside Aicanor in a tall tree overlooking a small villa. There was no sign of its inhabitants going to sleep, which both the elf and the aviari had been waiting hours for. Even the sequoia tree they were perched on seemed ready to throw them off at the first chance it got.
Judging from an open window, Arinthal guessed they were midway through dinner, making him groan loudly. Out of instinct, Aicanor stomped on his head, prompting the elf to shoot back a pained glare. Aicanor shrugged and pointed back at the villa, where a maidservant was finally blowing out the lamps that hung all around. They waited for a few minutes, and once they were certain every aviari in the house was asleep, they climbed down from the sequoia tree. They crept toward the wall and squatted, keeping low to avoid being spotted.
"So you know what to do, right?" Aicanor whispered.
"This is stupid. I'm a prince, for crying out loud. Why can't you go?" Arinthal whispered back.
"Because Master Thalrune forbade me, and besides, I am not going anywhere near that house. Hurry up!" Aicanor shooed him toward the villa.
Arinthal dashed into the bushes, as silent as ever.
He crept through the lawns until he was behind the house, exactly as Thalrune had described. True to the old aviari's words, there was a ladder by an open window, leaving the elven prince with no choice but to climb. He did so stealthily, but fate once again proved to be a b*tch as a rung of the ladder suddenly snapped. Arinthal's heart jumped into his mouth. He froze, quietly standing on the broken structure, praying no one had heard him.
Fate redeemed herself; the house remained silent. He continued his ascent until he reached the window. Pulling out the slip of paper Thalrune had given him, he placed it on the windowsill. Suddenly, a gust of wind rushed out from the window, catching the paper. Arinthal cursed silently and caught it just in time. This time, he tucked it securely under a flower vase, making sure it was still clearly visible.
Satisfied with his work, he climbed down the ladder and stretched contentedly.
"Meow!" a tiny voice called out from below.
He looked down to find the cutest ginger cat he had ever seen.
"Oh, hey there, little guy," he said, beckoning it over.
The cat walked over and climbed onto Arinthal's outstretched palms. Arinthal smiled, instantly remembering Leonora's younger days.
Rip!
A large, clawed paw sliced across his face, leaving a stinging trail of pain. He quickly flung the creature away and pressed his hand to his cheek. Blood trickled down his fingers. He stared at the animal in shock; it was no longer a mere cat, but a massive, tiger-like beast with long horns.
"A farragon!" Arinthal instantly went on high alert.
He tried to summon Moonshade, but he couldn't channel his velori. His options were instantly narrowed to just one: running.
He quickly sped around the house and across the well-trimmed lawns toward the front gate. The farragon was relentless in its chase and managed to pin Arinthal down just as he was about to reach safety. Arinthal found himself staring directly into the wide, snapping jaws of the beast, ready to consume him.
Just then, a powerful gale of wind blasted the farragon off Arinthal. Scrambling to his feet, he saw Aicanor standing behind him, hands tucked into his pockets, his green eyes glowing with intense, magical power.
"Let's go," Aicanor said to the stunned elf. He grabbed him and glided off toward their cave beneath the floating island.
Unbeknownst to them, a woman watched their escape from a high window, a knowing smile etched onto her face.
< . . . >
Arinthal's eyes twitched as he watched the old aviari laugh his head off. Even Aicanor, standing beside him, couldn't help but giggle at the elf's wild ordeal. It wasn't until Arinthal cleared his throat loudly that Thalrune finally stopped and composed himself, returning to his usual cool demeanor.
"So, you've kept your end of the bargain, and I'll keep mine. Do you accept my offer of discipleship?" Thalrune asked.
Arinthal sighed. "I am sorry, but I cannot accept. I am already pledged to a master, and according to elven custom, I can have no more."
"Is that so? That's fine," Thalrune shrugged.
"Really? I thought you would be less ....cooperative," Arinthal admitted, sighing in relief.
"Well, I knew you had a master from the very beginning. I'm far more knowing than you think, Arinthal Calanthir."
Arinthal nodded in response and turned to Aicanor. "Thanks for everything, Aicanor." He offered a formal bow of elven respect.
"Oh, I... it's a pleasure. You don't have to do that. It was just nice to be of help to someone for once," Aicanor stammered, gently helping Arinthal straighten up.
"We have zero time for formalities," Thalrune grumbled, cutting them off. "The darkness in your injuries is spreading fast. We have to perform the ritual immediately."
"Wait, what ritual?!" Arinthal demanded.