Wynn had initially worried about food, the heat of the plains meant that food was scarce. Birds flew too high to be shot with a bow or arrow, but Arabella stunned them with magic and cooked them with magic and they ate far better than they had in the forest. Water on the other hand was easily accessed and Wynn watched the process with fascination. Arabella was the only one who could gather the precious liquid; she either grasped it from the moisture in the air, or dug a hole in the ground and coaxed the water from the earth, both techniques that could only be achieved by magic. It was in this way that the travellers drank and survived long enough to reach Kingly.
Wynn stared ahead of them at the great expanse of ground and could not suppress the sigh that escaped her lips. It grated this constant walking over a ground that was completely unyielding, filled with huge cracks and fissures. Her thighs burned and the glare of sunlight which reflected from the ground made her almost constantly dizzy. Her only comfort was Braelyn beside her, feeling the same and providing a tower of support, if only to hold her hand when she felt too tired to continue. Their days had been long and now, on the third day of walking, Wynn was beginning to feel the strain.
The sun was bright ahead of them and Wynn felt it cooking her skin in a way she had not experienced before. Her pale skin was not used to such conditions and she tried desperately to ignore the parts of her which the sun had burnt. They were red and raw but Wynn refused to complain. Arabella knew she was in pain, but pride made both of them unable to voice it, Wynn could not bring herself to ask for help and Arabella could not show the empathy needed to ease Wynn's pain. Wynn did not hold it against Arabella, theirs was a difficult relationship made ever harder by the fact that they could hear everything and feel everything the other thought and felt.
The day was progressing slowly and even Braelyn's hand in hers was not enough to bolster Wynn. She was caught up in too many thoughts, hers and the travellers and it was a constant thing, forever pressing itself upon her conscious.
“Please, I beg of you, think of something else, anything else than how depressed and confused you are,” Arabella's voice came from behind Wynn and it was a mixture of desperation and irritation. Wynn felt her face flush as Braelyn glanced at her in bewilderment.
“Sorry,” Wynn whispered hoarsely, and she heard Arabella move away, her thoughts inconsistent and never settling long enough for Wynn to grasp them coherently. Braelyn looked at her, then to Arabella then back to the land before them, radiating confusion. Wynn closed her eyes, how could she explain when she herself did not know what had happened to her? To constantly know how everyone around her felt, what they thought, was exhausting and frightening. She wondered if she would ever control it.
They stopped that night and a collective sigh ran through the group. None would voice it but the heat, coupled with the wounds they had received back in Woodstone meant each day was wearing on them both physically and mentally. Griffin waited until Arabella had scanned the area around them before signalling for them to stop. They all fell onto the hard ground and glanced at the night sky. It was a deep black, like velvet against the soft gold of the ground, dotted with glinting stars and a waxing moon.
“Our progress is good,” Griffin said after a moment and his voice sounded unnaturally loud in the silence of the night.
“Yes,” Jareth agreed, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his hands, “another day and we should reach Kingly.”
“Then what?” Braelyn asked, her voice soft. Wynn glanced at her, surprised, Braelyn found it hard to talk to the travellers, preferring to watch and listen. Her question showed how concerned she was about their future and Wynn could understand. Braelyn had led a sheltered life compared to her, compared to the travellers and being wanted by the army; surrounded by traitors and those with the gift seemed to her completely impossible.
All eyes turned to Arabella. “We reach Kingly, we rest and we prepare for what is coming. Ideally we find someone sympathetic to our plight and stay there while we train. Something must be done because eventually it will all come down to one fight and we need to be ready,” she glanced at Wynn, “and if Wynn really is the Foreseen then she needs to begin training.”
The group was pensive, but Wynn was once again thrown into turmoil and it took a will not to panic and curl into a ball. Arabella could be wrong and Wynn focused on that for if she considered what it meant she would collapse. She focused back on the present and listened to Griffin and Arabella as they spoke of possible ways to follow Arabella's suggestions. None knew anyone who would oppose the law and house them. It seemed the future would be much the same as their past, hiding from the army and trying desperately to survive.
“It is not all bad,” Theodore said, “we are alive and we must focus on that.”
Griffin and Jareth picked up a handful of dust that coated the harsh plain and threw it at their young friend, laughing as they did so. Wynn smiled as the emotions shifted from morose to carefree and it was nice not worry for a short while. Next to her Braelyn laughed at the fun and Wynn leant in close to her, glad of her warmth. They may be outlaws and on the run, but at this moment Wynn was happier than she had ever been in her life, for whatever happened she was Free and she would rather die Free than live as a maid in Oprend Manor.
The next morning the air was static and the travellers were tense. The night may have ended happily but the morning was fresh and reminded them that they were in the middle of the plains, running from the army and hoping to find somewhere to hide whilst they regrouped. Wynn watched Arabella as she stunned a few birds from overhead and cooked them with magic before accepting her share and eating it greedily.
Then before she knew it, it was time to move again. They walked all day, time merging consistently. All Wynn could focus on was putting one foot in front of the other, over and over again. It was many hours of this before a speck of civilisation could be seen on the horizon. Wynn stared at it, willed it closer and all her efforts turned to just reaching it. She wanted to sleep on a bed, eat something other than cooked fowl and bathe. She kept onwards under the heat, the speck her destination.
When they reached the town, at the end of the fourth day the travellers had to assure themselves they were not dreaming. It was a stark contrast to the endless, golden, cracked land. The town was bustling in a quiet and orderly fashion. Soldiers sat on their horses in the entrance of alleys, and foot soldiers wandered through the streets, marked by their uniform. It was similar to that of Woodstone, a brown shirt and trouser, with thigh high leather boots. The only difference was the weapons they carried, in Kingly it seemed the soldiers preferred the use of a whip, whereas the soldiers of Woodstone used swords. The capital of Inlo was far bigger than Woodstone. Thousands of cottages stretched as far along the horizon as the eye could see. The streets were wide and cobbled, strewn with animal waste and dust from the plains.
“We have to hide, if the soldier’s have not noticed us coming across the plains then they will certainly notice us standing here gawping,” Griffin whispered to the group.
“I have hidden us,” Arabella hissed and Wynn watched with concern as the colour washed away from her face, “we must hurry I cannot maintain it for long.”
The travellers, under the concealment of Arabella’s magic, slipped into the crowd, careful not to bump into anyone. Arabella’s breathing became shallow and Wynn desperately tried to ignore her fatigue, feared she would faint from Arabella’s suffering and the emotions of all the villagers around her. She had never been so fully immersed in emotion before, she thought it would be daunting and make her ill, but she found there was so much to take in that she simply couldn’t hear and feel it all. Everything instead was a daze. With her head clear – as clear as it ever would be – she inspected the capital. In the distance high up on a slope she spotted a large Manor that could only have belonged to the Lord of Kingly. It was completely grey, made of stone, with large wooden doors. Walls surrounded it and Wynn guessed behind them lay gardens, stables, and servants quarters. The sunlight struck the stain glass windows of the Manor beautifully and Wynn viewed it with irritation.
It seemed that Kingly did not grow crops, the barren plains did not offer a chance to, and that all vegetables, oats and grains were traded from other nearby towns. Meat on the other hand was readily available, the stench of cows, pigs and chickens drifted around the town.
It was however the sounds of the capital that forced Wynn to realise they really were not in Woodstone anymore. Woodstone was a quiet, almost peaceful town compared to Kingly. All around the sounds of the market echoed. Men cried hoarsely about their produce, and women haggling for the price, and men grunting from the strain of carrying crates of vegetables and meat from one stall to the next. Horses whinnied from the many stables dotted around the capital, and the clang of metal from the blacksmiths echoed painfully. All the noise amounted until it became a confusing blur.
“Here,” Arabella hissed at the travellers – after what seemed like a lifetime of stealthily avoiding villagers – leading them down an unmanned ally to a cottage. The cottages around it bustled with noise, shouts, laughter and the crashing of pots and pans could be heard through the open windows. The shutters of the deserted cottage were drawn and the door locked.
“There’s no one in there,” Arabella whispered, reinforcing what Wynn could sense. Griffin pushed Rueben up to the door, and waited while his shaking fingers dug out a thin piece of metal from his trousers. He then slowly picked the lock, his eyes too swollen from the beating to be able to see exactly what he was doing. There was a satisfying click and the lock popped open.
The travellers filed into the cottage and locked the door behind them, shutting out the noise of the town. The cottage was dark; dust was so thick that it danced in the air. Arabella released the invisibility with a large sigh and then, unseen, waved her hand and the fire lit. They found the cottage had just one, large room. The kitchen sat, barren, to their left, a bed and chairs to their right, placed awkwardly around the fire.
“We will stay here while we find supplies,” Griffin said, walking around the cottage, inspecting it. He ran his finger along the stove; thick dust mixed with fat covered his finger. He grunted angrily and wiped it on his shirt. The travellers looked around the room and then at each other as though they were strangers. The events of last few days had awoken a primal need to survive. They had not realised how much they valued their life and how close they had come to losing it. They all knew their chosen lifestyle was illegal but none had really considered that their resistance against Lord Oprend could truly cost them their lives.
“Sleep now, we will gather supplies once we are recovered,” Griffin announced, lowering himself to the ground. The travellers each found a spot to sleep, and soon the only noise was the sound of soft breathing.
5
Laken sat by his window, watching the city of Cairon go by. Outside the market bustled with activity and Laken watched it all with a heavy heart. His window was a world he did not belong to, a world he had never been accepted by. The bastards, he hissed to himself, slamming his shutters closed in anger. How many years had it been? Yet remembering their treatment still made his blood boil. Laken took a deep breath to steady himself and crossed the room, settling in a chair.
Unbidden, the memories came, until he was reliving the moment that had changed his life for the worst and began the series of events that made him a stranger in his own home; the moment he had seen the face of his parent’s murderer. He remembered the night his parents died clearly, how he had stood at the window, his tiny body only just reaching the windowsill, peering out into the chaos of the streets, and had locked eyes with a man sat mightily on horseback. He wore the brown army uniform of what he now knew to be Inlo's. He had not known it then, but the man he had spotted was the General of Woodstone’s army. He had looked back at Laken, had seen the innocent, pleading look in his eyes, and had ordered the house, with his family and him inside, to be burnt down. Laken had screamed, heard the crackle as the fire spread over the dry thatched roof and engulfed his house, and the houses next door.
The smell of burning wood was still fresh in his mind. And as he searched for his parents, the sound of their agonising screams overwhelmed his senses; the roar of the blaze and the heat of the flames. Even now he could feel it. Every doorway was impassable, beams and reeds blazing menacingly in front of every doorway. He escaped through the window, but the look of hate he had seen in the General’s eyes had never left him. From that day he had vowed to destroy him, and whoever he served.
Laken had shut himself away from normal society. He helped the villagers repair his home, as they repaired the rest of the city, then retreated into solitude. He emerged from every day just long enough to practise with his sword. Five hours each day, driven by single minded determination to destroy the General. Ever since he had been able to pick up a sword he had practised and now his body was toned, muscular and strong. He was feared and ostracised in equal measure. The inhabitants of Cairon knew that it was Inlo’s army who had burned their homes, weakening their resolve, but could not be seen to openly oppose them. So when the army had claimed it was Laken who had accidentally started the fire – at least in his part of the city – they accepted it as a way to vent their anger and frustration. Laken had grown up singled out, with the blame for hundreds of deaths on his shoulders. It was with this knowledge he trained.
Getting up from his seat Laken opened the shutters again and looked up at the castle, which overshadowed the whole town; he often studied it from his window. The castle was separated from the market and its people by large iron gates, they remained open in the day, but men of the King stood guard. The castle had five towers, and a large courtyard, any other features were lost behind the large grey stone walls. Laken thought of the King. The mighty King of Terra, who could not face to leave the protection of the castle, could not face to see his land being ruled by Inlo’s army, by murderers. Terra and Cairon especially were being corrupted by the army, and soon everything would be dictated by the General. Laken scowled at the thought and in anger closed the shutters once more and left his house. He kept his head down as he walked through the market, past the gates of the castle, past the cottages and stalls and onto the port. He sometimes came to watch the water, to imagine he was far from here. The vastness pleased him, it meant opportunity. He watched the sunlight play on the water, and the men as they loaded a ship full of supplies, dragging a young man onto the ship with them. Laken shook his head at the young man, better you than I my friend. He knew where he was going, and it was a place of nightmares.
Laken looked out across the water and vowed he would defeat the army and whomever they served.