Mercedes stared up at the white-haired girl, uncertain what to do.

  She knew of the barbarian elves that existed on the continent only through hearsay- she hadn’t actually encountered any herself.

  She considered her sword, laying on the ground close at hand, but dismissed it. In the time it would take her to grab and lift her sword, she was certain the barbarian would thrust the point of her spear into Mercedes’ skull.

  The girl babbled at her in some incomprehensible tongue.

  “Hello.” She replied in elvish; the girl recoiled, her face scrunching up as if she’d smelled something revolting.

  It stood to reason that the barbarian wouldn’t understand elvish; she should have tried with the human tongue.

  “What’s your name?” She offered, and the brown-skinned elf frowned, but put her hand on her chest.

  “Simone.” She then lifted her spear a little so that the point rested directly between Mercedes’ eyes.

  “What’s your name?”

  Mercedes trembled a little. “Mercedes.” She replied.

  Simone frowned again. “Mer-ce-des.” She tried, and Mercedes nodded. Simone’s human tongue was accented strangely, but she was understandable.

  The girl leaned forward, and bizarrely, sniffed at her.

  “You speak like a human.” Simone observed, raising her spear, and then planting the butt in the dirt. There was still an element of wariness in her stance, despite her apparent relaxed posture. “What sort of Zoyzvo are you?” She asked, interjecting a word Mercedes didn’t recognize.

  “I don’t know that word.” She replied.

  Simone scrunched up her face again, this time in thought.

  “...nay-shon...?” She hazarded awkwardly.

  What? Nay-shon? She shook her head, and then it hit her: Nation.

  “Degan.” She replied. “I’m from Degan.”

  Simone’s head tilted to the side. “Dee-gon.” She repeated, and then shook her head. She mumbled something in her own tongue for a bit, looking away a little.

  Mercedes reached for her sword; Simone’s spear caught the blade and flicked it away.

  Mercedes watched it sail away a few feet, then turned back to Simone to discover the spearpoint leveled at her face again.

  “No.” Simone stated flatly. Mercedes raised her hands in surrender, and let out a sigh of resignation.

  Simone warily raised her spear again, and appeared to lose herself in thought.

  “Degan... human place?” She asked Mercedes, who raised her eyebrows in surprise.

  “That’s right. It’s east of here, on the ocean.”

  “Ocean.” Simone mused, then her face lit up, and she laughed a little. “Ah. Human place.” she nodded to herself, and then looked at Mercedes intently.

  Mercedes noticed something, then: Simone had something wrong with her eyes. She couldn’t tell from the distance between the two, but there was something in the young girl’s eyes that looked wrong.

  “Why are you here, Mer-ce-des?” Simone asked, all of her attention focused on Mercedes’ face.

  “I’m hunting magical beasts. Monsters.” She replied truthfully.

  Simone frowned at her in confusion again, and then turned her head slightly to the side.

  “Do you know what she’s talking about, Vitalen?” She asked, and suddenly, the fox was there, but somehow, it was a faintly glowing spectral blue. It swirled around Simone’s feet.

  “It seems she hunts the same as you.” The fox replied.

  This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

  Mercedes, shocked, reached out with her magical senses, and her mind exploded at the realization that the ‘fox’ wasn't a fox at all, but somehow was a powerful mass of magical power that could think and speak.

  The terror was too much; she passed out on the spot.

  *****

  Simone watched shock paint Mercedes’ face, watched the color drain from it, and gaped in shock herself as the armored elf slumped to the side in a faint.

  “-Vitalen!” She shouted urgently, dropping her spear and grabbing roughly at Mercedes’ armor.

  The spectral fox investigated Mercedes’ slumped figure briefly.

  “The shock was too much for her, it seems.” Vitalen mused. “Let her sleep for a while... and then consider your common path.”

  The spectral fox faded away, much to Simone’s irritation.

  “Is she of the mountains, though?!” Simone shouted after the fading spirit.

  You’d know already if she was. was the fading answer.

  Simone frowned, and briefly entertained the idea of using her shamanic powers to force Vitalen to return- though the realization of what she was considering led to her understanding just how tense she was over the situation.

  She sighed, and glanced around herself, taking in the forests’ sights, smells, and sounds. Simone couldn’t hear the wolves anymore, so she nodded with satisfaction, and then looked down at the sleeping form of Mercedes.

  She pulled out the spirit-stick she had been carving on ever since she began her journey; it was incomplete, unfinished. When it was completed, it would be covered in rings and shapes and symbols, animals and stars, and be a powerful tool to her as a shaman.

  As it stood now, it only had a little power, reflecting her own depth of skill.

  Simone paced off, crouched, and, using her spirit stick, drew a mark in the soil. She stood then, turned, and walked an equal number of paces, knelt, drew another symbol, stood, and completed the triangle she’d walked by adding a third symbol.

  She didn’t have many beads on her stick, so when she shook it, it rattled awkwardly and somewhat pitifully as she entreated the spirits to let the armored elf rest safely.

  Once that was done, she went to the center of the triangle and planted the spirit stick in the dirt so that it stood upright.

  So long as the stick stood upright, and the symbols she’d drawn in the dirt were not disturbed, the other elf wouldn’t be assaulted. The wolves would pass her by, as if they couldn’t see or smell her. It was a weak protection, but-

  Simone glanced at the spear she held in her hand; it had been carved in the manner of a spirit stick, but whoever had made it had done so at the peak of their craft, at the height of their power. She could sense the latent power thrumming in her hand, a thing of unlimited possibility- but only if she could master it.

  Simply having a completed spirit stick didn’t increase her own power. She still had to walk her own path, earn the powers the stick carried, one lesson at a time. She glanced back at the stick in the warded triangle. If Simone had used her spear to make the wards, she could have made a much more potent ward, but she would have had to leave the spear with the sleeping elf- and she didn’t trust the elf enough to do something as brazen as that.

  Also, she needed the spear to hunt for dinner.

  *****

  Magic was a power that was understood by the elves. It behaved in certain ways, could do things otherwise impossible, and was as much a part of the world as fire, electricity, the wind, and the stones beneath the feet. But, like fire, like electricity, like the others, it was not omnipotent. It followed rules as surely as lightning always took the path of least resistance.

  Or so Mercedes had been raised to believe.

  That thing had, in one heartbeat, obliterated any sense of understanding of magic. That spectral fox-shaped thing was beyond comprehension. Magic was magic, yes, but magic was just power, just energy. It couldn’t- it shouldn’t have a will of its own.

  Mercedes shied from the revelation even as the smell of smoke and cooking meat assailed her senses.

  She opened her eyes; evening had fallen. She blinked a couple of times in confusion as she struggled to a sitting position. Before she’d fainted, it had been late morning.

  “You sleep... long.” the barbarian elf observed from her position across the fire, sitting cross-legged.

  Over the fire was a chunk of meat that sizzled tantalizingly, drizzling grease into the flames below.

  Mercedes reached for it, but the barbarian raised her hand warningly.

  “No.”

  Mercedes frowned. “No?” She repeated. “I’m hungry.”

  Simone made a face. “Not...” She began, and then furrowed her brow as she searched for the right words. “Done yet.” she decided, and looked to Mercedes. “You understand? Not cook done yet.”

  Mercedes gave her a baffled look, but after a moment, made the connection, and subsided, nodded.

  “Okay.” She agreed. She glanced around the camp; spotted Simone’s spear sticking in the ground upright, decided not to comment on it.

  The young elf got up, and Mercedes saw that she had a short stick in one hand, and a knife in the other.

  The elf squatted quite unladylike in the dirt, and with the stick, drew a series of symbols in the sand. She pointed at the symbols, then at herself.

  “Simone.” She introduced herself again, and then pointed at the symbols.

  She held out the stick to Mercedes, who hesitated, but then reached out and took it from the barbarian, and wrote her name in the dirt.

  “Mercedes.” She offered, and held the stick back out to Simone, who was staring at Mercedes thoughtfully.

  Simone reached out to take the stick, but at the last moment, seized Mercedes’ hand instead.

  A jolt like electricity passed through her, a dull hum seemed to settle in Mercedes ears, and Simone’s eyes blazed with light, reflecting the crosses in Simone’s eyes for a moment.

  This barbarian can use magic! Mercedes thought, terrified, as magic coursed through her from the other elf.