Irik gave them all a blunted dagger and everyone moved out of the way. Wynn could not help feel glad they had been stopped by Wolf, she was not a complete novice anymore, she could hold her own against an attacker and find a sense of peace that made her actions far quicker than her opponent. She could win this, she needed to, otherwise her journey here would be futile, Irik had already made it clear that only a victory equalled lessons.
Her thoughts turned back to the fight, before her the two boys were bouncing on the balls of their feet, not quite looking at her and Arabella. She could see in her mind’s eye, how they appeared to the students. Exotic and dangerous. A thrill went through Wynn, never before had anyone thought she looked dangerous; she clenched the daggers tightly ready to use them at any moment. Tonight she would not lose.
Arabella bowed at the boy she was facing and launched herself at him, he gasped and raised his daggers just in time to parry her attack. Wynn ignored their fight and turned to her opponent, beckoning him closer. He scowled that she would mock him so and ran at her, daggers raised. Wynn sliced the air and caught the boys hand; he dropped his dagger ungracefully and in anger punched at Wynn. He missed by inches but used the time to roughly heal his hand and pick up his dagger. Wynn stepped back, allowing both of them to breathe; she could feel the boy calling magic and glanced at Irik. He was watching them intently and Wynn knew he would not stop the fight even if illegal moves were used. He wanted to see Wynn’s true potential. In retaliation Wynn called a trickle of magic to her fingertips ready to form it if needed. The boy sensed it and panicked, sending the magic he had called as fire; the heat kissed Wynn’s face but missed her.
It was then that a blood curdling sound echoed around the Great Hall. Wynn looked up to see dozens of the half breed creatures that had attacked her and Arabella in the forest circling the roof of the hall, visible through the crumbled sections. Irik called something but Wynn could not hear it. Time had slowed, the creatures beating wings resounded in her mind and their almost human cries of blood lust chilled her heart. Without thinking Wynn ran from the Great Hall, through the winding corridors and out of the door that protected Berhandril from attack and into the courtyard.
“Wynn wait, they cannot enter! Come back!” Irik cried after her but Wynn had gone. She stood in the courtyard, the servants’ quarters to her right, three hundred yards away, to her left sat old, crumbled sheds and before her the barbican and portcullis loomed, suddenly seeming a very useless protection against the creatures that flew around the castle. All were lit with the silver kiss of moonlight and Wynn found herself wishing for sunlight, she felt trapped by the shadows. As she stood the night wind scratched at her bare skin, but she was too focused to notice. She sent her senses out and found the creatures still circling the Great Hall. She could not think clearly now, turning back, into the safety of the Seminary was not an option, she was here to fight something, and those creatures must
die
.
Closing her eyes Wynn thought of a sunset, slowly she felt herself relax and nothing or no one could drag her from that peace. She turned her eyes towards the sky, not really seeing anything, and knew what she had to do. She called for the Dagger of Night, infusing the words with magic – led by an urge she could not describe or place – and glanced down as her right palm tingled. Slowly the weapon appeared in her hand, its eerie shadows twisting and writhing inside the dagger’s shape.
Once the dagger was firmly in her grasp she waved her hand and the portcullis rose, the cogs creaking and echoing around the night as they turned. Wynn ran through it, over the drawbridge and stood in the grounds, watching the creatures circle her high in the sky. She did not hear Nethali, the students, Arabella and Taien approach and stand at the portcullis, watching her gravely, not leaving the castle as they would not be protected by the ancient magic if they did. Wynn’s gaze was intent on the creatures and she gripped the hilt tighter. As she watched them, silence raged against her senses and she felt everything about her, her identity, every memory slip away until she was nothing, a shell, empty. She was too disconnected to worry that she had lost herself, at this moment nothing mattered save the beat of the creature’s wings. Deep inside herself, past her skin and muscle, through her organs, through even the vast darkness, something stirred. It was faint, and held no definite shape, she was unsure what it was, it was small enough that she could not feel it, but suddenly her hand was raising itself and beckoning the creatures forward.
The first creature soared down, beak open in a nightmarish scream. Wynn, apathetic to the beast that lunged at her took her time to position herself and raise her daggers in time to strike the lion-eagle hybrid; but as soon as that first blow found its target, Wynn was no longer empty; she was full of anger and joy at hurting the foul animal that attacked her. Her attacks were swift and almost dance like in their movements. The creature stood up on its hind legs, trying to swipe her with its paws, and going for her throat with its razor sharp beak but Wynn was oblivious, she dodged its attacks easily and using the Dagger of Night continued slicing and stabbing it, sending magic into the dagger so that each movement was more powerful than the last. It was not long before the creature fell without a sound to the ground. The second swooped down instantly, and pawed the ground menacingly.
Wynn closed her eyes and when she opened them a cruel smile had twisted her face and her eyes were unnaturally alert. Everyone could feel that something was different in Wynn, something they could not explain. Irik and Nethali were focusing wholly on Wynn’s frail form, frowns creasing their faces. They were terrified for Wynn, she was so small, so thin compared to the beasts that circled above her, they had not wished for her to prove herself this way. If she died now they would never know if it was she who had been born under the name the Foreseen, destined to save them all. She would be just one more corpse, fallen under Aerona’s cruel magic.
Wynn was oblivious to Irik and Nethali, and certainly all of the student’s worries, the coldness which had enveloped her since Nethali had attacked her had been replaced by pure fury and she was directing everything she had at the creatures. The second one pawed the ground gracefully and Wynn could see that if she had met the beast under different circumstances it would be beautiful, but now, as its beady eyes blazed with rage and its paws scored the ground she cared not about its appearance. She raised the Dagger of Night and lunged, noting the feeling of the blade as it sliced like butter through the hard muscle and skin. The creature cried out in pain and jumped back to avoid the knife but Wynn had no time for sympathy, she attacked wildly, glad when the creature fought back, relishing the challenge.
“We have gravely underestimated her,” Nethali whispered to Irik from the portcullis, as they watched Wynn kill one after another of Aerona’s dark creatures, the Dagger of Night fitting comfortably into her hand as though an extension of herself. The Manti outfit that Wolf had given her and her new short hair meant that the soft and quiet Wynn they had first met was a distant memory. Tonight, under the silver moonlight and thick black sky she was a warrior and fearless. Her emotions were almost animalistic, she thought only about the next move she would make, or how to avoid the attacks that kept flying at her. Irik nodded soberly at Nethali.
Eventually the last creature soared slowly down to Wynn and stood before her. It felt as though years had passed, though there only had been two dozen creatures and Wynn had slaughtered them all quickly and efficiently. The last creature before her roared and pawed the ground; its beady eyes following the dagger, unsure how to act. Wynn’s breath caught in her throat in surprise as the creature considered what to do. None of the other beasts had hesitated before they attacked her, and neither had Wynn, but this one stood tall and proud and Wynn was suddenly sure this was the leader. She knew the dagger commanded the respect of the creatures of the night, but Wynn was inexperienced, so the call was weak, would the beast respond in a way the others had not? As though deciding the creature screamed and charged. Wynn jumped back in shock and tightened her grip on the dagger.
The creature lunged and Wynn took a deep breath as time seemed to slow, when the beast was close enough she sliced its neck in one fell move. The creature tried to scream again but the blood gurgled in its throat and it swayed. Wynn stepped back and waited for it to die, but the creature clawed the ground and lunged at her with its final breath, digging its claws deep into her side. Wynn could feel them tear and slice and she spluttered and fell to the ground, her wound pouring with blood. She blinked dazedly and her breath rattled in her throat. She could hear shouting somewhere, but it was distant, the words merged together, she did not have the energy to try and understand. Slowly her eyes closed and her vision blurred; the last thing she saw was Taien crouching over her, gold sparks dancing from his fingertips.
***
They found a town nearby.
Braelyn stared at the horizon that had been her only sight for a month and blessed Lady Fate. The first few days of walking had been hard on them. Braelyn had thought she had known exhaustion but the walk through the plains that separated The Wall and Cairon, the capital of Terra, had nearly killed her she was sure. They had no water or food, and had only their prayers that a town was nearby.
The town was small and packed tightly together. Only a few dozen houses housed the sparse number of townsmen and they had no fields to grow their crops. This was a town that depended on trade and one that seemed to have dwindled over the years. Braelyn kept pace with Griffin and Jareth, her pride would not allow her to falter, but as they neared the town she felt her resolve crumble. She needed water, and food and more than anything a bath to clean her wounds and the dirt from her body.
The smell overwhelmed them primarily; the smell of excrement and animals, mixed together with the smell of cheaply produced metheglin. Braelyn staggered as their feet touched the cobbles and Jareth held her tightly. They knocked on the door of the only inn and smiled as an elderly woman let them in and saw to their needs. Braelyn smiled as she thought of that woman, she had given them a room in return for work in her kitchen. They helped cook and prepare the meals, Jareth and Griffin preferring to skin and cut the animals and eventually when they were rested, after a few days, offering them flasks of water and rations. Braelyn knew without that woman they would have died out there in the plains. They had walked after that, over the fissured plains until Cairon had come into sight, on the thirtieth day of their travels. Almost a whole month had passed and they had finally reached it, the capital of Terra and the home place of the King.
Braelyn remembered the moment crisply, how the plains had merged with the cobbles of the town, stretching far across the horizon, as far as the eye could see. The houses were sturdy and spaced equally apart; long, wide alleys branched all around the houses, leading to shops, inns, taverns and artisan’s homes, where they ran their business as well as lived. It was spacious and clean and Braelyn smelt the acidic tang of leather being worked, heard the clash of metal on metal from the blacksmiths and felt the heat from bakers as they served their freshly baked goods. It was clearly prosperous this town, but Braelyn did not need Wynn’s gift to know something was wrong.
The movements of the inhabitants were automatic, and the buzz of noise was tinged with exasperation. People haggled for lower prices but defeat was in their voices. It was then that they noticed the men on horseback, positioned at every alley and in front of every entrance. Braelyn knew that Griffin and Jareth saw them too, for they stiffened beside her and moved closer. The men on horseback were soldiers; it was obvious by their stance and the weapon on their hips. They were viewing the crowd like cattle, faces stony in their concentration.
“Go down this alley and we will follow the houses around,” Griffin whispered, shifting his pack higher on his shoulder and slipping down an unmanned alley. Jareth and Braelyn followed wordlessly, when it came to Inlo’s army and their ways, Griffin would always take the lead. The soldiers did not notice their approach, so intently focused were they on the crowds. The trio walked down the alley and followed it around until they could see the docks. The houses along the pier were different, more weatherworn and the boats tied to it rocked gently on the waves.
The smell was different here, salty and fresh and a huge comfort compared to the stark dryness of the plains. Braelyn wished to stay at the dock and view the sea, but Griffin and Jareth were moving onwards, their heads down. Braelyn followed them through the alleys and into the square, keeping their heads bent until they were out of sight of the soldiers. The castle of the King sat to the west of the courtyard, protected by large iron gates, but they did not stop to stare.
Braelyn smiled as she remembered what happened next. They had found a secluded inn, and rented two rooms for the night. What Braelyn had not counted on were the soldiers. They had spotted them in the crowds, matching their description to those that had escaped the General’s clutches almost a month ago and followed them to the inn. They had hoped to catch them in their rooms, but Griffin had insisted they stay together, and they needed more supplies. They left their rooms in the evening, when the courtyard was almost empty, hoping to visit the tavern and barter for some meat and ale. The soldiers cornered them squarely in the middle of the square. Four of them, swords in hand surrounded them. Braelyn did not understand what was happening at first, but when the blades had glinted in the moonlight fear had thrummed through her. The castle loomed to the west, silhouetted in the silver glow, offering no protection.
“You will come with us,” one man ordered and Braelyn glanced at Jareth and Griffin, they both had a sword to their throats and could not reach their weapons. They would go with the soldiers then, and two months of evading capture would be for nothing.
The sound of a sword being unsheathed echoed through the night and all turned to see a tall stranger in the shadows. Braelyn could not see his face, but she knew he was the most dangerous person she had ever met. He held the sword like it weighed nothing, and his stance was lazy. Griffin and Jareth too inspected him but Braelyn could not tell what they thought. The soldiers turned to the stranger.
“Be gone,” one said, “we have no quarrel with you.”
The stranger lifted his sword, a clear warning, he stood in the shadows but his sword was glinting in the moonlight, sharp and deadly. The moment was tense and Braelyn could hardly breathe. Who was this man that was risking his life to interrupt the soldiers? The soldiers saw he was not moving and one stepped forward, a smirk upon his face. He swung his sword and suddenly there was a clash of sparks as the stranger met it. The clang echoed around the courtyard and Braelyn could not help but watch with fear. Beside her Griffin and Jareth stiffened, the swords at their throats had not waivered an inch and she knew they were obeying to save her, if they had been alone they would have fought but Braelyn was vulnerable. A pang of guilt ran through her.
The stranger swung his sword whilst twisting his body around so he was able to lash out at the soldier but avoid the subsequent attack. He was fast, this stranger, and he dodged the soldier’s swings with ease, eventually disarming him and hitting him around the head with the hilt of his sword. The soldier flopped to the ground.
“This is your last chance,” one of the remaining soldiers said, but his voice was higher than it had been and Braelyn saw fear in his eyes. The stranger had not moved from the shadows but a thin sliver of light now ran like water down his face and Braelyn could see him smirking. His hair was white in the light and his eyes shadowed. A shiver ran over Braelyn as the stranger beckoned the three remaining soldiers. They glanced at each other then simultaneously sheathed their swords and ran, the sound of their footsteps echoed around the courtyard and then down the alley until it disappeared. Griffin, Jareth and Braelyn’s head jerked back to the stranger, fearful again. He twitched his head, indicating for them to follow. Griffin grabbed Braelyn’s arm and she heard the stranger stifle a sigh. Jareth and Griffin looked at each other and then at the man before following him. The man set off at a run and they followed blindly.
Braelyn remembered walking into a small house, and not really seeing anything because it was so dark. The stranger led them in then locked the door tightly behind them and indicated for them to sit. The house was in darkness, only the moonlight offering any light. Braelyn glanced at the seats placed around an unlit fire and sat down hesitantly. The man was working in the background, but she could not see him. Griffin and Jareth sat either side of her and she could feel them position themselves so that if occasion called for it, they could reach their weapons.
The man came back then, accompanied by a golden glow of a lantern. He closed the shutters and placed the lantern the floor so that the room was lit softly by its glow. Silence suddenly reigned. Braelyn glanced at the man worriedly but he was lounging back in his chair studying them. In the golden light Braelyn could make out his features. He had light brown hair, tied at the nape of his neck, and blue eyes that were staring. He was tall and muscled; it was obvious even through the layers of clothes he wore.
“Who are you?” She whispered, her voice suddenly hoarse.
The man sat upright and leant forward, “My name is Laken, son of none.”
Griffin nodded, “My name is Griffin, this is Jareth and Braelyn.”
At the mention of Braelyn’s name the man, Laken glanced at her. It was not rude, the way he stared, but Braelyn found herself wanting to cower away from it. He was intense, this man and the sudden urge to laugh wafted over her. She forced it down.
“Why did you save us?” Jareth prompted.
“I have been watching you since you arrived,” Laken replied, his voice was deep and it seemed to rumble across the room, he spoke to all of them, but he looked at Braelyn, she lowered her eyes, suddenly embarrassed, “and saw the soldiers as they followed you. I wanted to protect you.”
Griffin raised an eyebrow at Laken, and it spoke all that had not been said, Laken still had no explained
why
he had saved them. Laken glanced down at the light of the lantern, “I would rather not explain tonight, the hour is late and I am sure you are all tired. You are welcome to stay here and we can talk more tomorrow.”
Griffin and Jareth nodded their thanks and stood. Braelyn was slower, she smiled weakly at Laken and he inclined his head in return. Here was a man that should terrify her, he had fought skilfully without exerting any real effort, he seemed distant and she thought that he could be cruel if needed be, but she trusted him. With a bob of her head she followed Griffin and Jareth out of the room and up the stairs.
In the morning Braelyn woke to find herself in a strange house, Griffin and Jareth snoring from the floor. She pushed herself up and swung her legs over the side of the bed and made her way downstairs. Laken was already there, staring out of the window, the light silhouetting him. He looked different this morning, with the light shining on him. His hair was so light a brown that blonde streaks ran through it. His shoulders rippled with muscle and his strong arms leant on the windowsill. He heard her enter the room and turned, a faint smile playing on his lips.
“Good morning,” Braelyn smiled, “I just wanted to thank you again for saving us, and letting us stay here.”
Laken leant his back against the wall, “You are too trusting,” he whispered.
Braelyn frowned.
“You have come down alone, with no weapons, how do you know you can trust me? I could kill you this moment, with my bare hands and you would be powerless to stop me.”
Braelyn’s voice was no more than a whisper, she should fear this man, every fibre of her being warned her of him, even he was telling her so, but she could not bring herself to. There was something about his eyes; pain simmered there, a reason for his coldness, he warned her because he was a good person, but wished with all his heart for her to trust him. “I do not fear you.”
“Why are you here in Cairon?”
Braelyn wondered what to say to that, Griffin would tell her to say nothing and Jareth would agree, but this man had saved them and was keeping them safe. She owed him the truth.
“We have travelled to see the King.”
Laken’s eyes widened at that, and when Braelyn asked him what the King was like his face fell, “He was once a powerful and respected man. He loved his wife more than anyone in the world, and the whole kingdom knew it. They had been childhood sweethearts. She was beautiful, with long blonde hair and eyes that laughed, any man could understand his infatuation. She died in childbirth. The kingdom was thrown into mourning at the news of her death... but when their baby daughter was kidnapped the kingdom almost broke with sadness. That was why when it was invaded seventeen summers ago it was easy for the invading army to secure its hold over us.”