Authors: Aprille Legacy
“Don’t put them on until you’re far away from here,”
he warned.
He left before I could ask why. Was Netalia really that
wound up about it? I tucked the swords behind my saddle
and we set off into the sunrise.
It was pretty much the same journey as going to Moon
Bay; there was almost no other traffic on the road, even
when we passed Keyes. By the time we reached our rest
stop for the night, a small camp ground that Petre had
marked on his map, we’d been the only ones present on
the road that day.
We set up tents and set about cooking some of the
dehydrated food we’d brought with us. There was an
unspoken tension between all of us, and it did not alleviate
when Ispin tried to get a duelling competition going to try
to loosen us all up. In the end we just crawled into our
separate tents without saying goodnight.
After a mostly restless night the night before, I
managed to snag a few hours of sleep on the hard ground.
By the time the sun was rising though, my nerves were
beginning to hum again. Today, by this evening, we would
be in Petre’s estate, the alleged hunting grounds of
another Du’rangor.
“What I want to know is, how are they getting here?” I
asked nobody in particular as we rode, breaking the almost
twenty four hour silence. “They’re native to Gannameade,
and they can’t swim, otherwise the one on the Paw Islands
would’ve just paddled over to the mainland and had a
banquet.”
Nobody answered; I hadn’t really expected them too.
Everyone was growing sorer and sorer as the sun began
to fall. We crossed the state border to Abdoor almost
without realising it, though we were beginning to see
more traffic on the roads.
“They’re all heading away from Abdoor,” Rain said
quietly as we passed a family headed decidedly in the
opposite direction to us. The children stared at me as they
passed, their eyes round with amazement.
“It’s almost like they’ve never seen students before,” I
half joked.
“They haven’t,” Petre answered from up the front.
“Once we’re reaped, we almost never return home.”
“Why?” I asked in amazement, but he didn’t reply.
As soon as we crossed the border, I noticed a change in
the surroundings. The trees were shorter, sparser, and the
few streams we crossed were almost completely dry, the
water struggling through mud and leaves. My misgivings
increased by the mile, and when we reached Riverdoor, I
was proven correct.
The state was in poverty. The city was hunched and
dry, as though trying to protect itself. Beggars peered up at
us, pleading with their eyes. Ragged mothers hurried to
and fro carrying children who cried for their hungry
bellies. I set my mouth in a tight line, locking my gaze
straight ahead.
We reached Petre’s estate just on the other side of the
main city. I was confused to see green lawns, with neat
servants hurrying about. They met us at the gates.
“Master,” they said, bowing reverently to Petre over
and over. “Your Father is not expecting you.”
“I know,” he replied simply, handing them his horse’s
reins. “My friends and I will be staying for a while. Please
bring their luggage inside.”
Something hot was beginning to grow under my skin,
and I realised that I was furious. A servant tried to take
Echo’s reins when I dismounted.
“It’s alright,” I said to him. “I can do it. Where are the
stables please?”
He stared in amazement for just a second, and then
escorted me to the stables. I untacked Echo and groomed
her, then made sure she was fed and watered. I followed
the others inside the mansion, and more servants met us in
the entrance hall.
“This way, miss,” one of them, an elderly lady, said to
me, gesturing up the stairs. I followed her, reluctantly
peeling off from the others.
She showed me to a small, comfortable room on the
second floor. She stayed with me as I unwrapped my
swords from the canvas to make sure they hadn’t been
damaged on the journey.
“You shouldn’t have come here, miss,” the woman
spoke suddenly behind me. “There has been strange goings
on here.”
“Funny,” I replied, half removing one of my swords
from its scabbard to inspect the blade. “I’ve heard that
before.”
“Miss, they say an evil lurks here!”
“I know,” I slid the blade back into the sheath with a
sharp snap. “We’re here to kill it.”
I continued unpacking as she left me alone with my
thoughts. I was slowly coming to the realisation of what
was happening in this state, but I wasn’t going to jump to
any conclusions without finding proof.
I met the others at the base of the stairs. Petre came
back from another part of the mansion and showed us to
his father’s office. We entered the majestic room with
deep burgundy carpet and mahogany panelled walls. It
was the office of a rich man.
One glance at Petre’s father told me that he wasn’t
revelling in his wealth. His face was drawn, haggard, as
though he hadn’t slept for a long time. He kept rubbing
his chin, and from the state of his beard it was obvious
that this had become an unconscious habit. I also didn’t
miss the fact that he wore a long sword at his side, and I
was willing to bet there were more weapons stashed away
out of sight.
“You shouldn’t have come to Riverdoor,” he began,
standing before us. He was a tall man, over six feet with
brown hair greying at his temples. His eyes, though... his
eyes were the eyes of a man who was grieving.
I suddenly glanced at Petre who was standing in a far
corner. His eyes were far away as he stared out of the
window, and suddenly I knew the real reason why we’d
come here.
“There is a monster stalking these lands,” Petre’s father
went on. “Otherwise I would welcome you all.”
“We knew about the monster,” I told him quietly.
“That is the real reason we have come.”
Something like interest flickered in his weary eyes, but
it was quickly extinguished.
“What can seven untrained mages do against a beast
like the Du’rangor?” he asked, almost whispering.
“I’ve killed one before,” I said. “I can do it again.”
The frown lines between his eyes deepened.
“You’ve killed one before?” he repeated slowly, and I
felt myself go red as I nodded. I wasn’t usually one for self
promotion. “But where would you find another one? It is
strange enough that this one is here, they are not native to
this land.”
As Dena explained the story of the Paw Island
Du’rangor, I tried to catch Yasmin’s eye. I didn’t need to
though; she’d already spotted Petre in the corner and, like
me, had drawn to the real conclusion about why we were
here.
“We’d like the opportunity to help you,” I said to the
man before us. “Please, let us.”
He hesitated for just a moment, but then nodded.
“We have no mages here. Petre was the only one born
for years. Any man we’ve sent after it has not come back.”
“Why would you send people after it?” Theresa asked,
who had obviously not clued on. “It’s a dangerous
creature, wouldn’t you try to avoid it?”
“Because it started stalking the townsfolk, didn’t it, sir?”
he nodded once and I went on. “Because it took your son.”
Petre crumpled in the corner, Yasmin’s arms around
him as tears flowed down both of their faces. The man in
front of me stood steadfast, though he, too, threatened to
fold.
“You are quick,” he said hoarsely. “Yes. It took my son.
Petre’s little brother. In my desperation I put out a reward
for the creature’s death. The townsfolk leapt at the
opportunity to earn some money, to put food on the table
for their families.”
“But they never came back, did they?” I asked. He
shook his head. “And now you’re plagued by a creature
that howls in the night and terrifies all that hear it.”
He nodded.
“If you claim that you can kill the beast, then please, do
so. My name is Hugh. I am Lord of this estate.”
We took our cue and bowed as we’d been taught. He
waved the motion away, though we were well within our
rights. He was a Lord of the state; we were untrained
mages. In a few years, when we finished our schooling,
our status would rank with his.
Lord Hugh took us to another room, one which had
been covered with maps of every kind. Books were open
on the long table which took up most of the room. I
peered at one as we filed around the table; they were
books on the native animals of Gannameade, the
Du’rangor in particular.
“We are trying to figure out how the cursed beast got
here,” Lord Hugh said when he saw me looking at the
books. “Its presence is not normal, nor is the circumstance
in which we find ourselves.”
We gathered around the map of Abdoor. Yasmin and
Petre were still missing from our number. I suddenly
realised that Petre had been dealing with this on his own,
for a week. My insides writhed with guilt, but I knew that
no matter how bad I felt, it couldn’t be anything compared
to what Yasmin was feeling. As his soul mate, she could
practically read his mind. He must’ve buried this matter
deep for her not to know.
“The first time we started noticing livestock getting
attacked and going missing was here,” Lord Hugh tapped a
small patch of land on the map. We examined it closely;
there didn’t seem to be anything out of the ordinary with
it. “And then the deaths began to move closer to the
township, to the estate. We didn’t notice anything at first;
we thought it was just wolves or carrier birds. But then we
began to notice the prints.”
“Paw prints?”
“Yes. Larger than any carnivore we have around here.
And when it took Sammy, we knew that wolves would
not be brazen enough to enter the estate grounds. We
knew we were dealing with something much more
worrying.”
The weather had grown steadily worse since we had
begun to talk. The few scattered clouds that had escorted
us into the state had worked themselves up in
thunderclouds. They rolled through the sky, threatening
rain at any second. Outside, the trees lining the drive were
thrashing about, as though trying to tear themselves free
of the earth.
“One of the local boys, himself from Gannameade,
recognized the prints and told us what they belonged to.
We scoffed at him, of course; how could a creature only
found in Gannameade be here in Lotheria? But after a few
more days of losing livestock and hearing the howls for
ourselves, we had to concede that he’d been right after
all.”
“Where do you think it has been hiding?” Theresa
asked, pouring over the map.
Lord Hugh pointed out what appeared to be a small
swamp on the map.
“Here, in the marshlands. It is where we’ve heard the
howls every night; it is where the tracks lead back to.”
Marshlands. No tall trees grew in the marshland. I
wouldn’t be able to out climb the Du’rangor if it began to
overpower me. I would have to face it, on level ground.
There was some consolation; instead of a small dagger, I
had two full length swords that I could enchant, as well as
a series of charms that I’d be able to set off if the danger
became too much.
Too much. The stakes were already too high. The
Du’rangor I’d fought and killed on Paw Island had been
the most dangerous creature I’d ever met. When I was
little, my mother would take me to the zoo and show me
the large cats. I’d press my hands and face against the glass
as every other kid did and watch them, but never did I
think that I’d be fighting and killing some distant relation
of theirs.
And the large cats in the zoo seemed quite content to
laze about all day; I remember them draped over warm
rocks, soaking up the sun, occasionally flicking an ear to
keep the humans entertained. But nothing could have
prepared me for the ferocity of their attack, the way they
moved like molten metal, an unstoppable force, a veritable
whirlwind of claws and fangs.
Also, Du’rangors could kill simply by howling. One
nick of a claw or a tooth and we would be paralysed as our
blood boiled in our veins.
At least, I thought morbidly, we can’t be eaten if that
happens.
We spoke with Lord Hugh for another hour before
night began to fall and our stomachs began to rumble. He
rang for his servants and told them to begin dinner. I
couldn’t help but notice the look of relief on their faces,
and I realised that maybe our visit, even if we didn’t
succeed in killing the Du’rangor, would boost the Lord’s
spirits. From the look of relief on the kitchen staff’s faces, I
guessed that he hadn’t been eating of late, and they were
worried they were going to find themselves out of a job.
“There is a lot we could do here,” I murmured to Dena
as we headed back to our rooms to clean up for dinner.
“The entire state seems miserable. I want to help.”
She nodded.
“I was thinking much the same,” she admitted, and
then her shoulders slumped. “Poor Petre.”
A pit grew in my stomach with every step as I
remembered the way Petre had broken down in the office.
I’d never had siblings. I didn’t even have little cousins.
It had always just been me and Mum, so I’d never been
around kids really, except for when I was one. But
nevertheless I felt Petre’s pain, definitely not to the same
degree, but at the same time I was filled with a newfound
desire to ram a sword into the eyes of this child-killing
beast.
The thunderstorm was in full swing by the time I’d
washed off the travel grime and changed into one of my
tunic dresses and leggings. We ate in a large dining hall
that should’ve been majestic, but instead felt unused and
way too large for the eight of us.
“I’m sorry there isn’t much,” Lord Hugh apologized. “I
haven’t been eating much as of late.”
He still wasn’t, I noticed. Petre half-heartedly pulled a
chicken leg onto his plate and then stared at it blankly.
Rain finally caved and began slicing off small pieces for
him to chew slowly. I ate my own dinner pensively,
thinking quickly. I had too many questions to pay
attention to my food.
“Lord Hugh,” I said, breaking the silence of the meal.
“The Du’rangor isn’t the only trouble you have around
here, is it?”
He sighed, picking at some roasted vegetables as
thunder rumbled above us like a restless giant.
“No. Because we’ve had so many people missing, work
goes undone. We’ve been cut off from our sister city,
Nurmin; the bridge collapsed a month ago, and we don’t
have any other way of getting across the river. Not to
mention the dam upriver. The Orthandrellians have laid
claim to the water by damming it. Now we have almost no
water and no supplies.”
“Why haven’t you sent for help?” I asked. “The Masters
could help.”
Lord Hugh met my gaze with haggard eyes.
“We have sent for help, many times. Each time, there
has been no response.”
I clutched my fork tighter, and stabbed a piece of
chicken, imagining it was Iain or Netalia. I’d almost
guessed that they were only concerned with their own
state. Stanthor was in perfect condition, everyone in the
villages was happy, the pastures were green, and the river
flowed plentiful and without hindrance. But when
another state called for assistance, they turned a blind eye.
Why? I wondered, chewing thoughtfully. Were they
really so self-centred? I bet they wouldn’t be pleased when
they found out Jett had let us come here. Now we will
return with tales of a state in poverty and leaders who will
not help their people.
Something stuck in my mind; something Jett had said
about them banishing people. I frowned. It was difficult to
access that memory, but I knew what he had said. I didn’t
doubt for a second that students who returned with news
of how poorly the other states were doing and the lack of
help being offered by those in charge would rocket them
to the top of the ‘To-Banish’ list.
I paled at the thought of leaving this place. Despite my
attempts to get home, I knew that I didn’t really want to
go back to Ar Cena, to doing half school and half work. I
didn’t want to return to the normal nine-to-five melee.
I glanced sideways at Dena who was eating in silence.
Maybe it would be better for everyone if we helped
Abdoor back to their feet.
First things first though, we had a Du’rangor to kill.
After the meal, Petre and Lord Hugh retired to a
parlour somewhere to grieve in solitude. The rest of us
climbed the stairs to our bedrooms with heavy hearts.
Instead of going to my own room, I followed Dena to hers.
“I couldn’t bear to be alone right now,” I told her. “This
whole place is so miserable.”
Yasmin, Rain and Theresa obviously agreed with me.
They knocked on the door five minutes later and asked to
be let in.
We chatted amiably, trying to distract ourselves from
the hideous task at hand.
“So Dustin didn’t want to come with us?” Rain asked
after a little while.
My heart plummeted.
“Oh no,” I whispered. “I forgot to tell him!”
The others stared at each other and then me.
“What do you mean?” Dena asked.
“I forgot to tell him that I was going to be away. I didn’t
even mention it.” How had I forgotten? I chewed my lip
anxiously.
“Sky, is everything alright between you two?” Yasmin
asked finally.
“How so?” I said just a little too sharply.
“Do you still... like him?”
“Of course I do!”
But I was lying. When I lay in my bed at night now, I
wished for another’s company, someone with muscles like
rocks and scarred hands that had carefully supported me.
One whose heart beat with a steady rhythm of concern as
he looked at me.
I shoved those thoughts away angrily. It was the first
time I’d allowed myself to consciously admit it. I didn’t
want to think about the way his hands had felt in mine
during the soul ceremony. I certainly didn’t want to
entertain the memory of swimming with him at the
waterhole, for every time I did, I remembered Dustin had
been there too.
Only Dena, watching me closely, noticed my silence
and my hands fidgeting in my lap.
I slept fitfully, tossing and turning in the unfamiliar
bed. The eyes in my dreams turned from loving yellow to
concerned orange to Du’rangor red. When that happened,
I sat bolt upright, my chest heaving and my unsheathed
dagger in my hand. Moonlight streamed through my
window like cold water, bathing me in its icy grip – the
storm had finally broken. I hugged my knees to my chest,
not caring that the blankets slid off and bared my legs to
the night air. Tears ran down my cheeks as I gasped for
air.
I was terrified of the Du’rangor, but I was more worried
about my friends. They’d seen it dead on the ground.
They’d seen me kill it with only a small knife. They hadn’t
seen the look of determination in its hellish red eyes, they
hadn’t heard it snarling as it reached for me in my tree,
ready to pluck me from its branches like a ripe orange. I
was so worried that they were going to underestimate this
beast, or that Petre or Yasmin would let themselves give in
to their emotions and forget all of their training and any
words of advice I managed to drum up.
By the time morning broke, I’d half convinced myself
to go after the Du’rangor all by my lonesome.
I waited for the others to wake, or venture out of their
rooms, as I suspected I wasn’t the only one who’d spent
the night awake. While I waited, I cleaned and polished
my swords, and then enchanted them with the magical
equivalent of lighter fluid. I’d had a few ideas about killing
the beast, and I’d settled on this one.
When I heard the others moving about in their rooms, I
changed into my breeches and a baggy shirt that allowed
me to move freely. I pulled my boots on and then rolled
my hair up in a bun, poking a charm needle through it. I
hoped no one asked about the origins of this particular
charm; I’d found it on my bed the night before we’d set
off. Attached to a long hair pin, the silver charm dangled
from a short chain. When I’d probed it, curious about this
mysterious gift, it had flickered with orange light. I’d left
it alone after that.
However, the charm was shaped for protection, and
after my investigation, I knew what it could do. So I
threaded it through the bun, hoping the others would just
think it was a fashion accessory and not question its
origins.
I joined the others in the dining room for steam buns
and tea. We ate quickly in silence, our stomachs churning.
When Lord Hugh entered and asked if we’d like to head
off, we were almost relieved to be doing something.
We went to the stables to tack up our horses. Echo
inspected the charm pin in my hair, pulling back her
curious nose quickly when it flared up at her. I patted her
on the nose and advised her to leave it alone. I got the
impression that she agreed.
We rode out to the marshlands that Lord Hugh had
pointed out to us the night before. My apprehension grew
as we neared the marshland, the clouds roiling above us
again. For all the lightning and thunder of the previous
night, almost no rain had fallen onto the stricken land.
The marshland was marked by a post with a faded sign,
warning us not to take our horses any further. The
ground, despite the lack of rain, had somehow remained a
marshland, the putrid mud sucking at our horses’ hooves.
We pulled them up to a halt, peering into the low brush
that covered the marshlands. It would be a harrowing
journey, and certainly not one that I was looking forward
to.
“We can hitch the horses here,” Lord Hugh was saying
as he dismounted.
I was just looping Echo’s reins around the post when
Yasmin spotted someone in the distance.
“Lord Hugh!” It was a messenger from the estate. “Sir,
it’s urgent. The townspeople are on the verge of rioting,
sir, something about no bread-”
“I’ll take care of it,” he said, sighing heavily. “Sorry, but
it looks like I leave you here. You can continue if you
wish-”
“Yes,” Petre said immediately, his eyes on the dark
marsh in front of us. “We do wish.”
Lord Hugh nodded to us as though wishing us luck, and
then departed with the messenger. Petre finished hitching
his horse and began to stomp into the muck. We followed
carefully.
The mud was disgusting. When it got too deep we had
to be careful that our boots weren’t sucked from our feet,
and the little water that the marshes managed to hang on
to was stagnant and vile. There were small islands of solid
ground, marked by cattails, and whenever we reached
one, it was a welcome relief.
The mud also made tracking the Du’rangor very easy.
About an hour into our search and the marshes, Yasmin
came across a paw print that was almost exactly like the
one we found on Paw Island. I ran my finger around the
edge of it with mixed feelings; terror, because it was
indeed a Du’rangor, and we were well within its hunting
territory, and adrenaline fuelled anticipation.
Petre came back to us as we stood around the print and
handed us all two little earplugs.
“These will seal when the sound level reaches a certain
pitch. They’ll protect us from its howl.”
We put them in our ears. They were a good idea, I had
to admit. Now the Du’rangor had lost one weapon in its
considerable arsenal.
We searched the marsh for hours, staying together.
Overhead, the thunderstorm finally broke, and thunder
growled around us as lightning flickered through the sky.
It was only when it began to rain, softly at first but then
heavier, that I decided it was too dangerous and told the
others we should leave.
I saw Petre’s shoulders slump, and I squelched my way
over to him, squinting through the falling rain.
“We can’t see anything in this downpour,” I said loudly
over the noise. “This is to the Du’rangor’s advantage, not
ours.”
He nodded almost imperceptibly and began to follow
me. Our horses were soaked, and the ride back was
miserable. I was glad to see the manor house lit up – Lord
Hugh must’ve quelled the townsfolk.
We filed inside after looking after the horses, and the
others made for their rooms. I stood next to Petre,
dripping on the embroidered carpets.
“We’ll find it,” I said, trying to reassure him. “We won’t
leave until we’ve killed it.”
“It’s not the Du’rangor I’m worried about,” he said, his
voice hoarse. “It’s Sammy.”
And then right there in front of me, he cried. Great
heaving sobs that shook his shoulders. I hugged him, still
wearing our swords, our clothes plastered to our bodies
with freezing rainwater.
I’d never known grief as Petre did then. I didn’t know
how it felt to lose someone, let alone a younger sibling. I
felt useless and utterly horrid. I wished desperately that I
could do something more.
“Is there anything else we can do?” I asked quietly
when he calmed down.
“No. You’ve done enough. I just,” he rubbed his eyes
furiously. “I just want to find him so we can put him to
rest. I can’t bear...” he broke off as his voice left him. He
cleared his throat. “I can’t bear to think about him out
there in the rain.”
I didn’t think it was possible, but as I crawled into bed
that night I felt even worse than I had before.