THE THREE REALMS SERIES, BK ONE

 

 

 

 

By

 

 

 

 

 

 

Colleen Connally

 

 

 

* * * *

 

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Copyright @ 2018 by Colleen Connally

 

Cover Art by Cover Art by Erin Dameron-Hill

 

Graphic art design—map

Augustinas Raginskis

 

 

Edited by Elaine Raco Chase

 

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.

 

All rights reserved. This book or parts thereof may not be reproduced in any form without permission. The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without permission of the author is illegal and punishable by law. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

 

 

Dedication

 

To Bob for allowing me to follow my dream and my children, Gary, Tracy, and Becca Lee for allowing me to dream.

Contents

 

The legend, they say, is whispered within the winds along the magnificent Preda Mountains. Words and deeds never to be forgotten of the Arachnidan Terror.

Children sing to the glory of the Sordarins. Young lads praise their heroes of the past with dreams of following in their footsteps. Old men bask in the deeds of another time, a time when the Sordarins crushed the impending threat and once more Scarladin was safe.

The mighty Sordarins, rulers of the sky! The people look high up in the clouds and see their warriors soaring under the sun and know they are safe and secure in their world never to have to worry about the threat of the Arachnidans and the dreaded Asmeodai! The ones whose quest seek only to destroy all the Sordarins have ever known.

Over the years, the Sordarins have slept well, secure in their knowledge the Great One watches over them, knowing that the legends hold a mighty warrior will emerge if threatened again, a warrior born with a destiny to defend their world.

Now, though, subtle changes have emerged. Little by little, fears begin to resurface that their world, their very existence is once again threatened. They look to the skies anxiously awaiting their warrior; questioning perchance if the Great One has forgotten them.

I know this how? I am the one born to defend their world. I, Kela Calledwdele, was born a Euchoun…I am their warrior.

Prologue

 

 

 

The night of the storm was forever etched into Kela’s heart. She dreamed about it often, reliving that time over and over in her mind. She could still feel the bitter chill of the wind and rain pounding against her.

In silence, Kela watched her beautiful mother gaze up into the darkness.

Something was wrong, terribly wrong.

Her mother gripped tight to the railing of the balcony overlooking the rocky cliffs. Most nights, the scene was breathtaking.

Kela remembered her father saying that nothing compared to the beauty of Nottesdone when the mist would roll in from the sea. How proud he was of his castle!

Nottesdone had stood for over a thousand years as protector of the portal between the magical world of Witheleghe and the winged warriors of Scarladin. The enormous castle shot up high into the heavens. Many found the fortress menacing and ominous.

Not Kela.

Nottesdone was her home, where she felt safe and loved.

The downpour intensified.

Her mother, Princess Eufamia Flandigana Calledwdele, wife of Prince Mithelk Calledwdele, heir apparent to the throne of Scarladin, searched the stormy sky desperately for some sign of life.

Princess Eufamia found none.

The storm raged around Kela’s mother while the mighty wind whipped her long dark hair unmercifully, slapping against her face.

Was it rain, or tears, flowing down her cheeks?

Kela couldn’t tell.

Unbeknownst to Kela was how she had come to stand in the shadows. She knew only a force beyond her understanding had called. She had answered with an awareness that her mother had a need for her.

Moments earlier, Kela had heard her mother call out for Kela’s father—Mithelk. That was when a sudden burst of wind had opened the doors to the balcony. Kela watched her mother rise and walk out into the violent winds.

Princess Eufamia made no attempt to seek cover. A troubling feeling overcame Kela. Her mother’s actions told there would be no haven to be found on this night.

Kela was afraid.

Waves crashed against the cliffs of the Endless Sea, where Nottesdone reigned. The indomitable castle served to protect the Witheleghe and Scarladin as a wall to guard against the unwelcome.

Three thousand years ago, the Five Hundred Year War ended with the Reckoning. In victory, the three realms had been created. One was to be ruled by land, one by air, and the last with understanding.

Thus Arachnida, Siochanta, and Witheleghe realms were forged. Each realm had been blessed, but not all remained content.

Siochanta Realm was ruled by the Sordarin hawkmen. An aggressive warrior race, the arrogant hawkmen believed themselves above those that could not fly. Overtime, the Sordarins settled in the region known as Scarladin and left those men that could not fly in the Siochanta Realm to form other nations. The Siochanta Realm had never known true peace.

In Witheleghe, magic flowed freely and served as a haven for magical beings persecuted and hunted for their gifts. The head of each house of Witheleghe were known as Orimons and had been given a specific magical ability. Orimons were sworn to protect their people with their gift.

Witheleghe had been fortunate. The realm was ruled by House Flandigana, which held the most powerful magic. House Flandigana had reigned with wisdom. Withelegheans were a passive race. In turn, they were content with their lives, but failed to understand that their riches would be envied.  

Arachnida Realm fell into darkness. A dark wizard reigned. Over the centuries, Asmeodai had drained the resources of his realm, leaving his kingdom a desert wasteland. Asmeodai became a threat to all that weren’t Arachnidans.

With malicious envy, his evil eye turned toward Witheleghe.

Witheleghe sought the Scarladin hawkmen for protection. An alliance was formed, and Nottesdone built along the cliffs. Side by side, Withelegheans and Sordarins fought against the terror of Asmeodai.

“Your Grace,” a tired, cracked voice called from the chamber. “Pray come in and take shelter. We have just received word the winds are playing havoc with the gates. Malward says they need to be reinforced before damage is done.”

Turning quickly, Princess Eufamia focused on Ser Robart Dyer, Prince Mithelk’s master of ministry. His news had not taken her by surprise, but she walked slowly back inside.

“It is true, Ser Dyer, we are being bombarded, but not only from the storm,” Princess Eufamia replied. Her gaze locked onto Kela’s. She extended her hand towards her young daughter.

Immediately, Kela rushed to her mother’s side and clung to her leg.

Kneeling down, Princess Eufamia gently caressed Kela’s face. “My dearest Kela, we must leave Nottesdone. Prepare. We go to Witheleghe.” Looking up at Ser Dyer, Princess Eufamia continued, “We need to send the children through the portal to my father.”

Eyes narrowed, Ser Dyer stared at the Princess Eufamia in disbelief. Since Prince Mithelk’s appointment as Protector of the Realms, the elderly statesman had served faithfully. Long sworn allegiance to the ancient House Calledwdele, Ser Dyer had fought alongside King Edulf of Scarladin, ruler of the Sordarins, during the Arachnidan Terror.

“Your Grace…what do you speak?” Confusion rang in his voice. He gestured with his arm toward the open doors. “It is the weather only. You are feeling only a woman’s panic. There is no need to do such a drastic measure."

Princess Eufamia’s eyes flared.

Kela shuddered.

“You dare question me, Ser Dyer! Do you know who I am? What I once was, I am now again. It would not be so unless...."

Grasping her words, his body openly shook with trepidation. His worn wings drooped as he shook his head, refusing to believe. “Your powers are back? No! That cannot be!”

Even at the young age of five, Kela understood the magnitude of her mother’s words, who had repeated the story of her marriage many times to her daughter.

“I could not see what I have if he lived.” Princess Eufamia’s tone heavy, she tightened her grip on Kela. “My Mithelk has been betrayed and lies slew upon the hillside outside of the capital. He never reached Yucca. The devil stands in the shadows, not allowing me to see his face, but he is Sordarin. They are searching for the portal. It has to be closed…immediately.”

“No,” Ser Dyer protested. His mouth tightened, doing little to hide his irritation. In his forty years of service to the crown, he wasn’t accustomed to taking orders from a woman, especially from a Witheleghean. “Impossible...”

“Do not question me! My orders are to be carried out without delay,” Princess Eufamia cut him off.

“I beg your pardon, Your Grace, but I can’t have the portal closed,” Ser Dyer said. “You have to be wrong. We have had no warning. No flame burns on Mount Zorenje.”

Under the nervous tension, Kela sensed something else in Ser Dyer. A hesitation that bore more than his disbelief of the princess’s vision.

“You are wasting precious time, old man.” Princess Eufamia turned to her maid. “Send for Guilda. Wake her without delay. Tell her to prepare for a journey and bring my children down to the red room.”

“Your Grace, I’m afraid I can’t allow you to do that.”

Ser Dyer shoved the princess against the wall, knocking Kela down on the floor. With sword in his hand, his blade reflected in the candlelight against Princess Eufamia’s neck.

“My apologies, but you have given me no other options. We have need of the portal…and despite all our well-laid plans…we never considered you getting your powers back. An oversight. One that will be corrected…now.”

Mother! Instincts reigned. Kela raised her hands. Despite her youth, the power thrust Ser Dyer onto the floor.

Princess Eufamia stood still for a moment and eyed the master of ministry with contempt. Her lips edged upward to where a small smile formed. “Then Ser Dyer you will be sorely disappointed.” Closing her eyes, she called, “Sareta! Falco!”

No sooner than the words were uttered, the siblings appeared. Sareta, only a few days old, was held by Guilda, Princess Eufamia’s loyal companion since she herself was a child. The princess trusted no other with her precious children.

With her arms outstretched, Princess Eufamia encircled her children. The small group quickly faded from Sir Dyer's sight.

* * * *

The princess and her children materialized in a wide vaulted chamber deep within Nottesdone. Shadows danced against the walls as torches flamed along the borders of the room. Though, it was the mesmerizing swirling wind in the far corner that held everyone’s attention.

“Quickly, Guilda. Don’t tarry,” Princess Eufamia commanded. “Gather the children. We are going through. Once we are safe in Witheleghe, I will close the portal. I will not let the traitors cross into Witheleghe.”

Guilda, a tall, lean woman, frowned but gave a slight nod. Solemn in appearance and manner, she wore a gray cassock with a coif. Only a few wisps of gray hair told of her hurry in dressing.

With her wrinkled hands, Guilda tightened her hold on the infant. She nodded. “We are ready.”

Princess Eufamia placed her hands outstretched and mumbled in a whisper. A moment later, a small box with strange writings carved into its side appeared. She gripped it tightly and placed it within her robe. She drew in a deep breath and extended her free hand out to Falco and Kela.

“Let us go.”

Mother began to chant in her native language. “Oto avoiyouau ropia rapaoexoai eyw eioodio!”

A child of five holds many fears, Kela held her breath frightened of the unknown.

One glance over at her brother and she lost her fear. Falco, older than Kela by almost two years, held his head high, his shoulders back. There was no fear in him, only courage. He walked forward into the swirling wind.

Squaring her shoulders, Kela followed.

One step after another, Kela was sucked into the vortex. The wind took her breath away. She felt herself flying, then abruptly she fell to the ground.

Scrambling to her feet, Kela gaped. Never had she seen such beauty. Gone was the darkness of the night. Instead, there was a bright sun which lit a cloudless sky.

She stood in an extended entrance arbor, adorned with a fragrant abundance of cream colored roses. Tiny hummingbirds flickered around the blooms while colorful butterflies fluttered.

Before her, the view was magnificent.

A long reflecting pond was stocked with an assortment of glorious birds: swans, egrets, herons, and birds Kela had no knowledge. Enormous oak trees surrounded the pond with a curtain of moss flowing off their massive branches.

The lawn was a brilliant green, leading up to a huge red brick house with two wings. Ivy sculpted the front of the arched doors.

Kela glanced up at her mother, who had never looked so beautiful. Her long raven hair curled and framed her face, emphasizing her large dark eyes. Her skin was as white as the first fallen snow. But here at Vana Garden, an aura of bright light surrounded both her…and Kela’s baby sister, Sareta.

This was her mother’s home. Upon that thought, a sudden peace surged through Kela.

The feeling did not last.

“Something is wrong.” Princess Eufamia turned to Guilda. “Where are the foot guards? Father has never left the portal unguarded.”

A rumble emerged from the green shrubs that bordered the sward. Panic grew inside of Kela as a soldier burst forth. In truth, he was no more than a boy. From the sigil on the sash draped across his chest, he served as a squire to Prince Halmir, Kela’s uncle.

Immediately, the squire fell to one knee and bowed his head. “Your Royal Highness.”

Princess Eufamia stood numb. Waving her hand toward the castle, she asked, “Where is my father?”

The boy was thirteen, fourteen at the most. He wore black leather boots, tan pants, and a red jacket, but the pants had worn through; his jacket’s elbow torn. The squire hesitated.

“Speak! What has happened?”

Slowly, the squire lifted his head. “I’m Alric of House Sexton. I serve your brother, Prince Halmir. He left me behind to give you a message.”

“A message?” Her hand visibly began to tremble. Falco reached for her and she took it as if it gave her strength. “My family— what has become of them?”

“I’m sorry.” Alric grimaced. “King Darius is dead, as is Queen Odelia and Prince Staffon. We haven’t seen or heard from Princess Azure since the attack. Prince Halmir has retreated with your remaining family.”

“Take me to him.”

“I can’t, Your Highness.” Alric glanced over his shoulder in a nervous manner. “The whole of Witheleghe has been conquered, devastated…nothing is left as it was, except Vana Gardens. Prince Halmir said there was only one reason…”

“Someone wants to control the portal,” Mother finished for him. “Who…who did this?”

“Asmeodai,” Alric said solemnly. “It is the reason for the message. Prince Halmir said you must go back to Nottesdone and close the gateway. Do not let Asmeodai enter. He fears Cyaika has already done so.”

Prince Eufamia’s fear could not be hidden. “If I close the portal, there will be no help for my brother…my family.”

Alric rose and spoke plainly. “Prince Halmir said go so Witheleghe will rise again as was prophesied. Hold faith to that belief…”

Suddenly, the earth shook, the clouds darkened…the bricks crumbled the manor’s wall. The mighty branches of the great oaks broke. The reflecting pond water boiled.

“Asmeodai!” Alric cried. “He has sensed your magic. Go now! May Elohim be with you!”

Princess Eufamia pressed Kela and her siblings a step back and uttered the words again, opening the portal. Once more they were thrown into the current of swirling wind. They were crossing through the gateway.

Alric faded from sight.

Almost instantly when they arrived back in Nottesdone, the floor began to buckle. The walls swayed. Guilda knelt down, comforting the crying Sareta. Falco and Kela refused to leave each other’s side.

Princess Eufamia moved around the children. Once more, her arms outstretched. She said, “Katia te kuwaha. Tukua kahore tomokanga.”

Terrified, Kela watched a faceless entity emerge in the mighty winds of the gateway and cry out a petrifying scream. Princess Eufamia gave no ground, but held firm, uttering the words until the winds ceased and the cry was no more.

Her spell barred the evil from entering.

Slowly, Princess Eufamia lowered her head. Holding her hands out, Falco and Kela ran into their mother’s arms and embraced. She kissed the tops of her children’s heads. “Listen carefully, my precious children. There is no time to explain. Guilda is going to take you to a place far away from here. She will care for you until I come.

“If I do not follow, know it is only because I cannot. Do not forget all I have taught you. Hold true to yourself and remember your destiny. Carry my love with you always.”

Princess Eufamia took Sareta from Guilda and cuddled her to her bosom. Kissing the baby’s cheek, tears flowed freely down her cheeks. She handed her youngest back to Guilda along with the box she held in her robe.

“Don’t forget my words.”

“I will do as you command, but, Your Grace, come with us,” Guilda pleaded, knowing that the princess was a daughter of a king. Dutiful and strong, Princess Eufamia would protect her land and her people above all else.

Princess Eufamia did not answer but knelt down to Falco and Kela.

“Mother, I will stay with you. I will fight by your side. Father says a Calledwdele never surrenders,” Falco vowed.

Mother caressed his cheek. “No, Falco, your day is not yet. You need to depart to have that day.” She turned to Kela. “Kela, my protector…”

She said no more for a great horn blew from outside the chamber. Deep-throated calls cried out. Pounding again and again against the door. At the same moment, the gateway began to quiver and shake. The floor moved, causing all within to lose balance and fall.

Once more, instincts within Kela responded. She scrambled to her feet and held her hands outward. Light blasted from Kela’s hands, one shield toward the door and another toward the gateway.

She gave to her mother a shield to protect. It was her calling.

Kela was a Euchoun from the day she was born.  

“Sister, do not let go,” Falco demanded. “Do not let go.”

Princess Eufamia crawled to her feet. Her eyes fixed upon her daughter.

Kela cried, “I will not fail you, Mother.”

“Stand back,” Mother gave a weary nod to her beloved children. “I need to bring back all those of your father’s legion who have survived the assault.” She waved her arm across her body. “Kawea hoki Mithelk tangata. Ka rite ki ki katoa.”

A fog emerged, and then, a form appeared. One man. One Sordarin.

Tall, broad of shoulders, lean of muscle, the Sordarin swung hard his sword.

“Take care!” Princess Eufamia cried. “You are back within Nottesdone!”

The warrior sank to his knee with his hand on the grip of his sword. “Your Grace… what…Nottesdone? How?”

“It makes no difference. Time is of the essence. There are no others?”

He shook his head slowly. “There were no other survivors. I was the last standing.”

“Mithelk?”

“I’m sorry, Your Grace,” he lowered his gaze. He added nothing else. He himself was badly injured. His broad wing hung awkwardly. His side and hands bled. A wound above his eye gushed forth blood that flowed down his cheek.

The news cut Princess Eufamia worse than if he had plunged his sword through her heart. She gripped her stomach. “Your name?”

“Turstan.”

“Turstan, I have need of you.”

“My sword is yours,” he pledged. Rising, he staggered forth. “What is your command? Do you want me to defend the door while you escape…?”

“No, I need you to give me your oath that you will defend my children with your life.”

“I pledged my life to your husband. I’m yours to command.”

“Then prepare.” Princess Eufamia turned to her old nurse. “There is no more time. Take the box and find a place of peace to raise my children. Teach them the ways. Protect them, but prepare. They will search…whoever has betrayed us…do not let them find my children until it is time.”

“Please, Your Grace, come with us.” Guilda’s voice faltered.

“My faithful Guilda, you know better than I, we cannot question. We all have our purpose to fulfill. Promise me you will care…”

Banging commenced against the door. Louder and louder.

Turstan looked at Princess Eufamia strangely. Shaking his head in confusion, he begged, “Let me stay. I will defend…”

Princess Eufamia shook her head. “You are to go with my children, protect them with your life.”

Echoes of the assault descend down upon the desolate children.

Time was up.

The princess said, “I send you now, my children. Go with my love…my hope.”

Kela’s arms ached and began to waver, but with all her being, Kela felt the compulsion to stay. “Do not send me…”

Her mother’s eyes misted. “You have to go, Kela. You have to live. Turstan.”

The broken warrior picked Kela up, breaking her shield. He rushed beside Guilda with Falco in tow.

Words again the princess uttered in her native language. The two loyal servants and children began to disappear, but Kela reached forth once more and another light irradiated from her hand, sending another shield to surround her beloved mother.

Kela saw no more except in her dream.

In her dream, Kela saw her brave mother watching her beloved children fade from sight, hoping against all hope she had sent them far enough away. That all was not lost…

Kela saw the door demolished.

She heard their swords and weapons trying to permeate the shield Kela had given her mother. The shield gave her mother the time needed to accomplish her objective. Her intention held firm upon the words she uttered.

“Kovia ropia repqouq ewo, iade xpovoc kabapa kapoia eriotpateuw ueto!”

The room began to shake; the walls crumbled. Fear surged through the assailants. There would be no escape. The room erupted, collapsing around them.

The protection of Kela’s shield gave way.

Princess Eufamia fought to the end, falling under the rubble. Kela heard her mother’s last word uttered, “Mithelk.”

Princess Eufamia breathed no more.

In this Kela dreams and knows, she will not falter in her quest to fulfill her destiny.

SIOCHANTA REALM

 

KELA

 

 

Galloping through the grasslands, the wind whipped through Kela’s long, dark hair. Her hat was long lost along the riverbank.

Kela made no attempt to retrieve it. Her attention lay only upon the purpose in front of her—Falco!

From the corner of her eye, she saw her brother edge closer.

The sun shone brightly in the cloudless sky, giving way to a fine day. One that neither Falco nor she could ignore. The rains of the last week had finally broken.

In the far distant north lay white-tipped mountains, the majestic Preda Mountain Range reigning over Helvetet, the Valley of Hell, as it was called by the Uddes, the inhabitants of the region.

They rode across the stretch called the Black Forest, given the name because of the excruciating effort it took to enter. Two thousand foot high cliffs enclosed the valley along with the rapids on the powerful Kampar River, which flowed through the basin.

According to Turstan, there was only one safe trail that allowed for travel, heavily guarded by the Brixtone Army. Helvetet was an important source of grain and rice for the country of Brixtone. Despite the isolation of Helvetet, the grand Kampar flowed boldly down into the valley, giving life to all around.

The valley was blessed with fertile land for its crops; the forest plentiful with game. Helvetet had been a perfect place for their small family to live, except Brixtone was the sworn enemy of Scarladin.

The fact did little to keep Falco and Kela from dreaming. The intimidating presence of the Preda Mountain Range in the distance served as an entrance to the Kingdom of Scarladin, their home, or it would have been if not for that fateful night seven years ago.

Stories of their home had been told many times to the children by Turstan. He boasted in great length about the virtues of the Sordarins. Battles fought…wars…and victories won.

Falco and Kela hung upon his every word, clinging to the hope of one day returning in triumph. The two looked high. When the fog cleared, the hawkmen would be seen soaring in the skies.

Since he learned to walk, her brother yearned for the day he, too, would soar. The desire ignited his soul and burned in his heart.

For years, Falco had talked of nothing else, but only now have they come close enough to get a glimpse of Scarladin grandeur.

“Yucca sits upon the highest bluff overlooking Scarladin. A great wall encircles the city, home to King Edulf, your grandfather. The height and steepness of the cliffs below serve to discourage any from such a dangerous climb. Within the walls, the castle is encircled by three towers. Standing between the Twin Towers lays the Great Hall.”

The children had long grown accustomed to Turstan’s ramblings of finding their long-lost grandfather, but on this day Kela gave little thought to the castle in the distance. She was intent only upon her goal.

Regretting not having taken the time to tighten her braids, Kela fought against the distraction of her unruly hair. In a vain attempt, she pushed it back, all the while urging her mount onward. Glancing over her shoulder, she realized she had lost ground after the turn.

Falco laughed as if victory had already been claimed.

The thought of losing again gnawed at Kela’s pride. Not again! Not today!

Jerking the reins, she took a sharp turn from the path to cut through the underbrush. Dodging branches, she kicked her heels into the roan’s side. Her mount responded. The finish lay within her view beyond a long extended ditch.

Clicking her tongue, the pony understood her needs. In her next breath, her mount lunged through the air. For a brief moment, Kela felt as if she was flying.

Landing abruptly, the pony’s legs buckled, almost throwing her. Regaining control, Kela flung her hands up in the air, having landed well beyond the finish line. Reining in her pony, she turned in triumph to Falco, who brought his horse down to a trot.

He frowned.

“Ha! I won!” Kela cried most boastfully.

“You bloody fool! You could have killed yourself!” Falco declared, taking his hat off and hitting it against his leg. Irritation echoed within his voice.

She stared at him, uncertain if his frustration was concern or the fact he lost. She decided the latter.

His dark sandy hair ruffled on the breeze. His deep blue eyes narrowed. Falco’s white shirt was smeared with signs of leaning against his chestnut horse. “If I urged Mayer on, we would have collided!”

At that moment, Kela couldn’t care. She wiped the sweat from her brow with the sleeve of the borrowed shirt, but her thick dark hair clung to her forehead. Now, she regretted losing her hat.

Moreover, Turstan wouldn't be happy. Lately, he harped on the fact she should conduct herself more like a lady. Like he would know what a lady should behave like. She laughed at the thought.

Riding with her brother, Kela halted before him. “You're only mad because you got beat! How many times have you beaten me? Never mind that your horse has longer legs!”

He grimaced, arching his back one way than another. With his hand, he tried in vain to scratch his back.

“Not going to do you any good, Falco,” Kela teased him, taking advantage of the rare circumstance of having the upper hand. “Turstan said it will take months for your wings to form. You have no choice but to endure.”

A huge grin formed on his face. “But when they do, I'll no longer be grounded. It will be the skies for me. Poor Kela, we will see who beats who then!”

Falco knew her better than any. Jealousy swelled. Why could I not have been born a male? Life wasn't fair to have treated her in this manner.

Refusing to allow him the upper hand, she countered, “But it's not this day! I'll race you home!”

Without waiting for a reply, she took off, thinking herself brilliant by taking the lowlands. But in her haste, she had forgotten the heavy rains. She had not gotten far when the pony slowed under the weight of the sodden mud on his hooves.

With the greatest of reluctance, she turned around as the ground gave way beneath the weight of the pony and herself. Soggy and muddy, there was no way she would ever make it through.

To make matters worse, the echoes of Falco laughing fell upon her ears while he galloped away.

Oh, why did I not think? She reprimanded herself soundly. How many times had Turstan told her she was too impulsive?

Slowly, Kela back-tracked through the mud. Oh! I will never hear the end of this! With the thought of the gloating Falco waiting on her, she deliberately slowed her progress.

At least she would make Turstan happy. She would go back and retrieve the hat. He wouldn't be happy if she came back again without it. He had threatened to withhold her riding if she lost another. Kela wrinkled her nose. He was always threatening something!

Sometimes she believed he liked to hear himself talk. Turstan rarely carried through with any of his threats.

Kela slowed the pace of her mount to look through the tall, thick grass. Finally dismounting, she walked. There was no hurry. She knew what awaited her return, either taunting by Falco or another lecture, which surely would follow from Guilda.

Engrossed in her undertaking, a loud and thunderous noise caught her off guard. She hesitated. There were voices coming from up-river.

She crept toward the sounds, knowing few people ventured this far into the wilderness. Down the river’s edge, she saw men along the riverbank. Their attention seemed to be focused by a commotion from within the water.

Curious, she eased ever so quietly through the underbrush to the edge of the trees. To her shock, the men were soldiers, clad in quite distinctive uniforms. Deep blue tunics showed under their body armor, and they wore gold helmets; but it was their banner that sent a shiver down her spine—they held the Royal Brixtone sigil—the roaring lion.

Kela relaxed as she watched them all share a laugh and even smiled when she caught sight of the mishap. Flailing in the flowing river was a large, bearded man, screaming unintelligible words. Making an effort to stand, he was met with another strong wave that pushed him back under the water.

One rider wore the markings of nobility. A fine, supple cloak trimmed in fur, his garments were colored a bright purple adorned with a gold edge. Leaping from his horse, he ran toward the man and cried, “Your Majesty!”

Rushing into the strong current, the man slipped and fell into the irate nobleman. The two floundered in the moving water. Standing, the man reached back to pull his lord up but lost his footing. Both tumbled back into the water.

The noble burst upward, pushing the imbecile. “Lord Falk, get off of me. Find me my crown!”

Laughing to herself, she watched only a moment more. Guards joined the search for the lost coronet, thrashing wildly in the water.

A preposterous scene in truth.

The water rose no more than waist deep at that point of the river. Let His Majesty walk out of the river on his own. His guards seemed to be saving the noble more from himself than anything else.

Swatting away offers of any further help, His Majesty emerged from the Kampar waterlogged, dragging his heavy legs through the water. Once on dry land, his garments clung to his stout frame, accentuating his rather large protruding stomach.

“I have it!” Lord Falk cried, trotting through the water onto the river bank.

Angrily, His Majesty grabbed the crown and placed it back on his bald head. His massive plum-colored cloak weighed heavy on him and his face strained under the weight. His jaws drooped, displaying his double chin. His eyes, though, illuminated his rage.

He was not a man to engage.

Time to depart. She eased away quietly from the sight.

No sooner had she mounted her pony, she halted. She heard him—Falco.

Kela.

The next moment, a voice roared, “Take hold of him! Do not let him depart!”

Kela.

It was her arrogant brother! Oh, by all that is good! What have you done?

Come! Do not reprimand me…at least not yet. For I believe I may need some assistance.

Leading her pony, she edged back toward the commotion. Her gaze swept back and forth over the site, and stopped on her brother. He stood with a foolish grin on his face, not far from where the nobleman had fallen, hidden from her view at first by the guards.

Hatless, he whipped his shoulder-length hair out of his face. His horse stood quietly along the bank with his reins touching the ground. Falco rubbed his forehead as if he had hit something.

It didn’t take much to imagine what he had run into…

The Brixtone’s hunting party were no longer entertainment. Her concern—their lord’s anger directed at Falco. The guards had circled around her brother, hindering his escape.

From the look upon Falco’s face, he hadn’t a care in the world. Of course, he didn’t. He was Falco!

“Your Majesty! Let me help you back to your horse,” Lord Falk offered. He caught the king’s elbow.

His Majesty would have none of it. He shoved the man back harshly and trudged in his water-soaked boots toward Falco. “Who are you? Who dares to disrupt my hunt? Knock me into the river!”

“I beg your forgiveness, Your…” Falco half-bowed. “Highness. Forgive me. I wasn’t expecting others on the trail. I assure you that my intentions were not to fall within the river.”

“Such insolence!”

Lord Falk interceded. “Young man. Get down on your knees and beg forgiveness from his majesty, King Gregorius de Flour, ruler of the kingdom of Brixtone. The land you inhabit.”

“Again, my apologies, Your Highness,” Falco gestured toward his horse. “I will not waste any more of your time. If it pleases you, I will take my leave.”

“You are going nowhere!” King de Flour snarled. He pointed to the captain of the guard. “Seize him! A good flogging will teach him the price one pays for this misadventure!”

The order had been given. Two horsemen dismounted.

Falco waited no longer. He lunged toward the annoying Lord Falk, unsheathing his sword. Gripping the sword, he wielded it against the king’s chest. “Forgive me, Your Majesty, but I have no desire to be flogged today.”

“Gods! Someone run him through!” King de Flour’s face had turned a deep red. “Kill him! Kill him, now!”

Falco looked at the advancing men, cautious in their movements. Afraid, perchance, that Falco would harm their king before they had a chance to act.

Falco smiled.

Oh, Falco! There is no need to aggravate them further. Turstan has warned us not to call attention to ourselves.

I do believe, my sister, that we have no other choice. This has gone well beyond a flogging.

Throwing the reins around her pony’s neck, she mounted. Falco was right. The insolent man wanted her brother dead.

The king’s guards rode horses of great stature, strong and muscular. There would be no outrunning them. The seasoned warriors slid forward and wielded their swords toward Falco.

Kela drew little attention riding out from the woods. Only one glanced her way.

He was not a soldier but had the bearing and appearance of one of importance. A younger man, he sat tall in his saddle under the banner of the Brixtone, marked with a roaring Lion. His surcoat bore the same royal sigil, the House de Flour.

His yellow hair was cut short. His clean-shaven face bore a solemn expression. Turning his head, his emerald colored eyes caught Kela’s attention. He tilted his head to one side and then, back at Falco.

“Father,” the young man called out. “Does not this ring strange to find one such as he here? Take note of his back. Is it not wings emerging? He is a Sordarin.”

Panic surged within Kela. Falco’s wet shirt clung to his back outlining the full skeletal formation…along with his unmistakable mark transparent through the thin white threads. The hope that no one noticed dissipated when she glanced back at the young man sitting on his mount.

The prince had.

Oh, hang the devil! He knew. We are in danger! Turstan is going to kill us if these men do not.

Falco! Her mind screamed. There was no more time for playing around. Now!

Falco dropped the sword. He ran, gripped his horse’s mane, and swung himself on the back of his horse. Taking off in full gallop, Falco never looked back.

Jerking back on her reins, Kela eased away slowly, never taking her eyes off the Brixtonens.

The king’s guards pulled out their cross-bows. Before any had time to aim, Kela raised her hand, extending forth her shield. The arrows fired and fell harmlessly down to the ground.

Turstan’s warnings forgotten, her only thought was protecting Falco. The mounted guards urged their horses to follow. She watched them hit her shield. The invisible wall sent them sprawling to the ground.

Moans and groans echoed over the valley.

Kela did not dare turn her back on the group. From the corner of her eye, she caught sight of the young prince. He hadn’t moved, but his face had changed.

He smiled.

King de Flour pointed toward Falco. “Seize him! He’s escaping!”

The prince called no attention to her. Instead, he said, “It will do no good, Father.”

King de Flour gave no heed to his son’s warning, calling for his men to remount.

From the woods, Falco called to Kela. We are set!

With her brother safe, she set to finish this game. Extending her hand, the king’s men were flung from their mounts by the force that hit them.

Abruptly, Kela turned and galloped towards Falco as a dense fog rolled in out of nowhere. Entering the mist, Falco took hold of her reins. With his keen eyesight, he easily navigated through where no one else could see.

“Falco, how foolish…,” she began.

“Do not go there, sister. Was that not the most fun? Did you see the look on the King’s face?” Falco laughed. “They will think before confronting us again!”

“One seemed to know, Falco. Did you not see? He saw your mark.”

“You are letting your imagination play with your thoughts,” Falco dismissed any concerns, warning her in the same breath. “Do not let Turstan hear of this. You know it would not bode well for us if he did.

“Come. We need to get back before Guilda sets supper.”

Kela made no protest. It would do no good debating with Falco. He was probably right.

Had they not been nomads for years? Moving upon every suspicion. Turstan had them leaving on any hint of presumed recognition. Any stranger’s remark or look had Turstan on edge that they might betray their location and send down hell’s wrath upon them.

They had never settled down. Never made friends.

Falco wanted them to stop running and go into Scarladin, proclaiming the Calledwdele birthright. He said others would take it as a weakness to continue running. Turstan said it was not cowardice, but vigilance until it was time to return.

Falco was right. If she made mention of today’s events, they would be on the move once more. She had no desire to leave.

No, she would keep silent.

 

For seven years, the siblings had lived on the run. Since that fateful night that Nottesdone fell, their small band had not been able to find sanctuary. Thrust into a foreign land by their mother’s last act, Guilda, mother’s loyal servant, had been forced to fall upon her knees and beg a foreign king for mercy.

Guilda had no choice. In her care was three small children, one an infant, and a badly wounded Sordarin. To ensure all of their safety would had been no small feat.

Withelegheans were renowned as a passive people, but as Kela knew, prideful. For Guilda to take a knee for one she considered beneath her, she had to be desperate.

Emerging into the throne room, Guilda calmed a crying Sareta and comforted two distraught children, all the while facing down armed Azmarion guards with Turstan lying unconscious by her feet.

Confusion rang within those walls. Fear overwhelmed the Azmarions with strangers appearing from out of nowhere. Moreover, fright almost incapacitated their small band, not knowing what lay ahead for them.

For Kela, those moments of uncertainty had faded to faint remembrances. Her heart cried out for her mother…who was not there…who would never be again.

All she had were memories of the moment Falco stepped forward in the midst of the confusion and broke the language barrier. Words of the Azmarions rolled off his lips. Despite being only half-Witheleghe, Falco had been born with a gift, as Guilda called his ability— his Witheleghe birthright. Also part of his birthright was his ability to communicate with both his sisters with his mind.

The ruler of Azmarion, King Niska, had been called. In the past, Azmarion had been an ally to Nottesdone, which Princess Eufamia had hoped would be of some help.

The island lay in the Endless Sea in a place where winter did not come. Their ships came often to Nottesdone to trade with the north. Kela’s mother had laid her hope on her friendship with King Niska’s daughter, Laylah.

King Niska offered shelter and food. Laylah found the precious Sareta a wet nurse. Turstan’s wounds were cleaned and bandaged. A light of joy surfaced when it was announced he would survive. Though there was nothing to be done about his damaged wing. He was told he would never fly again.

The king honored them with a villa not far from his residence, a place that suited all their needs. The doors were long and wide; the ceilings, vaulted, a necessity for any Sordarin to live there. The wealthy in Azmarion’s homes were elaborate and large with a multitude of rooms, indoor courtyards, gardens, and beautifully painted walls of the landscape.

The kitchen lay off of the entrance while the vestibulum led to an atrium, which branched off to bedrooms, a dining area, and a tablinum. They had no wants, but Turstan had been wary of the Azmarions…with cause.

Azmarion was not a large island, laying a month’s sail off the coast of the closest mainland, Tarrin. Less than three months stay, Laylah sent word that they were to leave immediately. Her father had betrayed Kela and her siblings. With the fall of the great castle, the alliance between Nottesdone and Azmarion was no more.

A Tarrin Army had arrived, intent on taking prisoners…Laylah said hostages, but the title of what they called the siblings mattered little. It would have been a death sentence.

Laylah begged forgiveness…begged them to leave.

After the messenger left, Guilda made straight to the carved box Princess Eufamia had given her. There was no hesitation, Guilda began sprinkling the box’s dust throughout the house. She told the words to Falco for him to utter.

The winds gusted; the walls shook. The ground trembled beneath their feet. The wet nurse ran screaming out the front door. Guilda held tight to Sareta in her crib. There was time for nothing else, except to fall to the floor. Sliding one way and then another, Kela felt like a rag-doll, tossing and turning until at last, the house stilled.

Their small band landed in the midst of the Bittervale. They faced an uncertain future, but their path was clear. The siblings had only themselves to depend upon. There was no one to trust.

That had been their fate.

They were not without their own defenses. Turstan had recovered sufficiently enough. Determined, he set out to find help. Fortunate indeed, he discovered a small village and returned with a young woman, Hulda, to serve as a wet nurse for Sareta.

For three years, they lived within the woods. The house camouflaged to suit the village. Witheleghean magic gave the home a thatched roof and stone walls. A single wooden door served as an entrance. A chimney was added to heat the home. No native would give it a second glance.

As was their fate, in the third year, Hulda betrayed them. Before Turstan ran her through, Falco uttered the words needed for their home to once more transport the siblings to another land. In total, they traveled eight times until they landed in the Black Forest—the closest they had come to Scarladin.

The siblings lived a different life than if their parents had lived, but they were protected by two loyal servants, who served them well as guardians and protectors along with their mother’s Witheleghe magic.

There, though, lay an issue.

The magic within the box had been drained. Their home had begun to suffer, leaning to one side. Stones bulged out in the center. The journeys had taken its toll.

There would be no more transporting their home.

Turstan stated that magic was not always the answer. They would have to learn to live without the protection the magic box offered. A hard lesson to grasp.

Guilda tried to teach the siblings to respect the magic of Witheleghe. Above all else, she instructed, never take magic for granted.

She did this by reciting the teachings of Elohim. When the worlds were formed, he gave to each realm gifts to ensure their prosperity. He gave to Witheleghe magic, but the gift came with a price. Respect and care for the people of the Realm of Witheleghe came before all else. If the laws were upheld, magic would reign.

The magic of Witheleghe was legendary, coveted by all who did not possess it. After the Reckoning, all was well until a thousand years ago. Witheleghe had been threatened by the Dark Wizard, Asmeodai, from the desert realm of Arachnida. To protect themselves, the Withelegheans conjured a wall between the world around them and their land. They left only one way through—the portal at Nottesdone.

Asmeodai never ceased in his desire to conquer Witheleghe and the Siochanta Realm. His attempts were many, none worse than the Arachnidan Terror. Witheleghe aligned with Scarladin to defeat Asmeodai during the Terror. It sealed the desert devil within his own desolate realm.

All changed for Witheleghe the night Nottesdone fell…

Questions abounded for the small band. They were ignorant of how Asmeodai and his mate had entered Witheleghe.

What was known— was their world had changed.

What was once was lost.

Worse, Asmeodai had trapped himself within Witheleghe, but his quest for power had not been satisfied. He waited for his opportunity to emerge, stronger than he had ever been, with his eye upon the whole of the Siochanta Realm.

Guilda wanted the siblings to understand the importance of Nottesdone. She told the story of their parents. Their marriage had been arranged, part of the alliance between Scarladin and Witheleghe. Their mother, Eufamia, had been the chosen princess, the one to make a great sacrifice.

For with her marriage to an outlander, Eufamia lost her magic.

One of the sacred laws of Witheleghe.

Eufamia had done her duty and became mistress of Nottesdone. Guilda said that their mother had been prepared to be a loyal and devoted wife, but quite unexpectedly their parents’ marriage took an unusual turn.

The two fell in love.

“Bound by the needs of their fathers, your father and mother married without laying eyes upon each other. The Princess Eufamia never set foot into Nottesdone until the day she wed. She lost her magic and title from Witheleghe the moment she took her vows,” Guilda explained. “She regretted nothing and loved each of her blessings.”

What Guilda did not say with her lips, she spoke with her eyes. She had been given the task to oversee the children’s upbringing. In this, she had been successful.

The hope Guilda had in her weary eyes lay with Sareta, a true Witheleghean. An aura shone around Kela’s little sister.

Sareta was most beautiful. Her hair was dark, black as a moonless night, thick and straight, falling down her back to her hips. Her eyes were a mystic green, shining like an opening of heaven, sparkling in the stars; her skin was as white as freshly fallen snow. 

Moreover, everyone had come to comprehend that Sareta held tremendous powers. A wish would become reality if Sareta felt the need…this truth was the source of Guilda’s anxiety.

Guilda cuddled her favorite. Nothing came before her Sareta.

To be sure, Guilda made little effort to hide her feelings. She made it known she held little regard for Sordarins, who she blamed for her mistress’ death.

Turstan laughed off her beliefs. “Ain’t no different than your blasted Withelegheans. Them betrayed us all, too,” he said to the children’s nurse. “Gonna come a time when the children’s existence will have to be made known to Scarladin, old woman.”

Guilda raised her eyes. The coif around her gaunt face emphasized her large, sharp eyes. Her lips thinned, frowning. “To do so without knowledge of who betrayed them would be death.”

Turstan huffed. His nature rebelled against inaction, but he held to his oath.

He had no knowledge of childrearing. A Sordarin warrior had little to do with such, but he held no pity for himself. His once proud wings had been damaged beyond repair, not even Sareta could heal them.

Never again would he fly in battle. But he relived his battles through his tales, stories told in great detail, especially when his tongue had been loosened with ale. Falco and Kela were guilty of encouraging his talk when he was in such a state.

During these sessions, the two learned much about their home in Scarladin, the glorious Scarladin.

Born with a desire only to fly in the Royal Wings, Turstan succeeded in his quest with his valor and bravery. He served their grandfather, King Edulf. In his prime, Turstan was taller than most other warriors with a wing-span of twelve feet and able to soar faster than any before him.

As with all warriors, time stole his speed and strength. A fate he denied until the day he fell from rank. His pride wounded from an oversight of his commander, giving to another an assignment he thought his. The clash that ensued cost Turstan his position within the Royal Wings. He was thrown into Torni, known as the Black Tower.

Once one entered, few were ever seen again.

That was where Kela’s father had found him. Prince Mithelk offered Turstan an escape to the throes of Nottesdone, a place of whispered rumors. Turstan gave the whisperings no thought, entering into the Nottesdone Guards, pledging his sword to Nottesdone for life.

“I gave my oath to protect and serve my Lord Mithelk. I have kept my word and will do so for his children.”

Turstan had no family, though he had married once. His wife, Frieda, whom he confessed he loved dearly, died in childbirth along with his son. His life had become his service to Prince Mithelk.

Though if the truth be known, more than once Falco and Kela had dragged him out of local brothels. Guilda would have been mortified to learn that the wet nurse, Hulda, had been a whore. Turstan had discovered her in one of the brothels, having recently lost her own baby. Kela knew this because Hulda talked often to her about her life before she came into their service.

Kela had not been shielded from the world as Sareta had been.

Turstan instructed Falco in the Sordarin ways. A necessity for Falco bore the mark of the Sordarin heir, a glorious hawk with his wings sprawled wide, on his shoulder. Despite his holding Witheleghe magic, his fate was that of a Sordarin…as was Kela’s.

Kela had been born a Euchoun—one that protects. Her failing, in the sight of Guilda, had been Kela had not been male, nor had Kela shown any sign of Witheleghe magic. A dubious fate. For a Euchoun had never been a woman.

Euchouns had always been male. They had been used for centuries to protect the mightiest Sordarin warriors. A path impossible for Kela to follow. Yet, Kela listened and learned while Turstan instilled Falco in the Sordarin ways.

To be true, Guilda had tried to instill in Kela the Witheleghe’s ways. But to most ends, Kela was afraid Guilda had been met with bitter disappointment.

Kela, as had Falco, was born to be a Sordarin as their father. Turstan boasted the fact often. In turn, Guilda took comfort in Sareta, her true Witheleghean. 

Soon, Falco’s wings would be fully formed. Turstan pushed to go into Scarladin.

Guilda warned, “When the time is right, everything will fall into place, Turstan. We can’t force the issue. The children need time to gain strength. Do not be fooled into believing Asmeodai has ceased looking for them, especially Sareta. He must feel her power.”

As of late, though, Sareta had grown weaker. Barely seven years of age, Sareta was a delicate creature. Despite Guilda constantly guarding over her, the light in her eyes was fading. Guilda feared they had leaned upon her magic too much.

Unlike Turstan, Guilda never rambled. Although Kela realized, Guilda held within her more knowledge of Witheleghe than she told for she was ancient. She had served both Kela’s mother and her mother before her.

Guilda longed for Witheleghe. Yet, she comprehended that with the ascension of Asmeodai her home was under a reign of terror. The thought terrified her. She was a true Witheleghean. She abhorred violence, yet when called upon gave no issue if Turstan felt the need for such. She lived in fear for herself and her charge, Sareta.

Kela’s fears of facing her guardians eased on the long ride home. By the time the cottage came into view, her thoughts had been forgotten.

Falco had a way of diverting her worries. Indeed, he had her laughing as they rode up the lane, but in unison, the two stopped cold.

Standing on the porch, Guilda met them with a cold glare.

She knew! There was no way out.

“Explain yourselves!” Her face was tensed and angry. “Your sister has taken to her bed. What have you asked of her?”

A silence ensued.

“Falco? Tell me true!” Looking at Falco, then back at Kela, her teeth clicked together. “Kela?”

Kela lowered her head, wishing that Turstan was here to stand between them and Guilda’s anger. He was nowhere to be seen.

“It was fun, Guilda.” Falco forced a smile. “Nothing really. A small fog. It shouldn’t have been too much, not for Sareta. She did it with ease.”

“Ease! She has taken to her bed. You take her too much for granted!”

“It was not our intent.” Kela dismounted. “Is she going to be okay?”

Raising her hand, Guilda halted Kela’s progress. “I’ll take care of Sareta,” she stated firmly.

Guilda drew in a deep breath. It did little to ease her anger.

“I have warned you both about your sister. Neither of you listens. Have I not told you to stop asking magic of her? You know well she will give you both anything you want. She hasn’t the strength. The years of need have put a strain upon her.” Her hands squarely on her hips, she shook her head. “Now, the question is what did you do? A fog, you say.”

Cono

 

 

The morning dawned, cool and crisp on the early spring day. Cono soared over Saxton Pass, patrolling the skies and land below as a warrior of King Edulf’s Royal Wings. He flew under the stone archway that bridged Scarladin to Brixtone, over two thousand feet in the air.

Exhilarated, he had not expected this assignment. When he first got his wings, he had flown these winds endlessly over the Bodiam Mountain, in and out of the Risen Stones. Cono loved the feeling of gliding through the ancient towering icons that rose above the treetops.

Since he had joined the Royal Wings, his time had not been his own, nor would it be for a long while. His life was his commission, a course that had been set since his birth, but the path laid before he had not come with ease.

A cloud followed him.

During the Arachnidan Terror, Lanka, the land ruled by House Lothar, had been invaded and overrun with Arachnidans. The terror caused alliances to be forged. Lanka aligned with Scarladin under the rule of the young, brash King Edulf Calledwdele. The war was won, but peace had come with a steep price to pay.

Lanka was not their own.

Hundreds of years before, the House Lothar had broken from Scarladin, becoming an entity unto themselves. A proud, strong Sordarin race of dark skin and almond eyes, the Lankans kept to themselves. There was little contact with the outside world, minimal trade and they had even outlawed mix-marriages.

Lanka was a place of beauty, a rich land. Hot and humid, the forest was dense with green vegetation and filled with life. Mines gave to the House Lothar gold, diamonds, and iron to make the mightiest of swords. Life was good for the clan, but Lanka bordered the Payelaga Desert, home of the Arachnidans…home to Asmeodai.

The terror came in the darkness of night. Nothing had been the same for the once proud clan. After the terror, Lanka once more became part of Scarladin. The five clans of Sordarin ruled under one as it had been in the beginning.

King Edulf reigned with a stern hand, advised by his council. Cono’s grandfather, Lord Sergius Lothar, served as His Majesty’s Lord High Stewart.

No matter that his grandfather headed House Lothar; to his clan, Cono was a half-blood. His father, Pers, had disgraced the family by marrying an outsider. Cono had been the result of that union.

A valiant Sordarin, his father had died before he was born in a skirmish along the western front, bordering Brixtone. An arrow to his heart—thrust through his unshielded chest. His grandfather believed his son had been betrayed. Otherwise, his grandfather reasoned, Pers would have been wearing his armor.

Deep mourning befell House Lothar for Pers had been Lord Lothar’s only child. Not until the shock of discovering that Pers had left a child had light returned into the house. Pers had disgraced his family, not Cono’s mother. Pers had married Cono’s mother, shown by the mark on Cono’s shoulder.

A mark confirmed his heritage. A mark that had to be hidden from the moment of his birth.

His mother, Crestiana, had been a member of the Brixtone Royal Family, but she had angered her own house by refusing an arranged marriage. Then she went against the written laws, marrying Pers in secret.

Both had known the dangers.

Pers had paid with his life.

Upon Pers’ death, a pregnant Crestiana went into hiding. Sadly, she died within hours after giving birth to Cono.

After losing her own infant, Crestiana’s cousin, Helena, became Cono’s wet nurse and protector. She journeyed the treacherous path to Yucca with the newborn infant.

Death would have been Cono’s fate if he had stayed.

By the grace of the Great One, Cono survived.

With great reluctance, his grandparents had raised him, yielding to Helena’s pleas.

As Cono grew, there was no denying his heritage. One look told he was a Lothar. Tall and strong, he greatly resembled his father, but his skin was lighter.

Yet, there was, also, no denying Cono was of mixed-blood…moreover, his mark placed the entire household in danger.

As a child, Cono was reared by Helena in Coifer, the homestead of the House Lothar and far away from Yucca, the capital of Scarladin. His grandmother, Lady Faileuba, made no objection to the arrangements.

Aghast at the shame of Cono’s birth, Lady Faileuba had not seen her only grandson again until he was six, when he had finally been called into Yucca. She saw him only after Lord Lothar arranged for Twiten, the last wizard from Narteria, to help hide Cono’s mark.

A piercing screech broke the quiet, followed by another. Flying over the crest of the Risen Stones, Cono spotted three riders, the first carried the banner of Brixtone. His keen eyes surveyed the road ahead.

When the Earl Marshal woke his unit in the dead of night, his orders had been clear. Ensure safe passage for a royal entourage from Brixtone.

“Why in the hell’s burrow are we securing safe passage for our sworn enemy? Surely, we are not to trust these devious heathens!”

Cono hovered in the air and waited for Totus, his wingman on this mission.

“Following orders,” Cono told him. “Making sure that no others follow in their shadows…that they aren’t trying any tricks or using any of their fleogans in the air.”

“All the same, my curiosity is lit.” Totus nodded. “Prince Silas told me that even his brother was roused and told to prepare.”

Cono gave him a curious look. Had the princes been alerted? “Something is in the air.”

“It is my thought,” Totus agreed.

A high-pitched call signaled formation. Cono broke from Totus, flying to his congregating unit. As was the right he had earned, he took his place at the head of the Fledglings.

With the Sordarin warriors’ cry, the Fledglings made toward Yucca—announcing to the world that the Sordarins ruled the skies.

* * * * *

Through the breaking fog, Cono led his unit to the city in the clouds. Yucca—the unmistakable castle, which hung over the edge of a cliff on the mighty Mount Sigur. The impressive fortress dominated the mountainside.

Elongated walls stretched high above the cliff with tall towers on each side of the colossal gate, which served as the only entrance from the west side for those that could not fly. Turrets were ornamented with gables, balconies, and pinnacles, allowing the Sordarins full view of those who tried to enter.

Yucca was built on the cliff’s ridge, centered around the massive keep where the Great Hall stood. The Twin Towers connected to the Great Hall fortified the residence of the royal family. Filled with exotic flowers, statues and ponds, the keep overlooked the castle’s bailey, giving the city a unique beauty.

The prosperity of Yucca had expanded to the east. Merchants’ stores, taverns, and inns were plentiful. Vendors sold their wares in an open market on the Street of Vinir. Timber-framed houses with distinctive hanging tiles marked residences of the inhabitants to the great city. High-rise stoned dwellings housed the nobles and those of high-rank sat near the bailey.

Behind the Trees of Wonder, the streets narrowed, where the Graveyard of the Brave lay. Beyond the burial ground, brothels had been erected away from the Great Temple. For none dared to desecrate the Great One’s temple or the wrath of the Great One would befall Scarladin.

For hundreds of years, the granite temple crowned the eastern rim of the city. The richness of detail was seen in the detail of its moldings and carved sculptures. Triforiums arched into the thick inner wall above the three naves which lead to the high altar. An abbey sat behind the temple, housing priests, vestals, and guests of the holy sanctuary.

Beyond the abbey lay the castle’s eastern walls. Fortified by twelve high towers, including the Torni. The dreaded Torni held prisoners for the crown. Thick stone cells and damp, dark dungeons housed the worst offenders.

At the southern entrance, the Citadel had been built beside the granaries where the bastion projected outward flanked by three gigantic towers. Carved within the center fortification was the southern gate, which led down into the Runsas Valley.

The road out of Yucca wove down a steep hill alongside the Thousand Steps stairway to the bountiful valley. From the skies, the reach of the valley could be seen for hundreds of miles. Rich crops of grain and corn grew upon the fields in the fertile soil. Fish were plentiful within the Andlos Lake, which was the source of the mighty Kampar River.

House Calledwdele crowned hawk golden banners flew over the battlements. They had always been a source of security to Cono. As long as the banners blew proudly in the wind, all was right in Yucca.

Below him, the great gates opened and allowed entrance to the Brixtone entourage. In formation, Cono swooped down once, then back up in the air. One more flight around the castle before he landed with the other Fledglings in unison with the other units.

A magnificent sight. Cono had watched it many times in his childhood. Now, as he had dreamt, he was a part of the mighty Sordarin Royal Wings.

Earl Marshal bellowed a command. As if one, seventy-five of the Fledglings dressed in full dress regalia in gold and white pulled their swords from their sheaths and gripped them in the air in front of their faces. The military unit aligned the path the entourage took into the Great Hall.

As his position dictated, Cono stood in front. From the corner of his eye, he caught sight of the men that his unit had escorted. Watching as the visitors walked through the line, he gave little thought to the two shorter men, but the third he recognized.

Tall and lean, the golden haired man was one few could ignore. He wore a deep blue tunic under his surcoat embroidered with the Brixtone emblem of the roaring Lion. He was Prince Pieter de Flour, heir apparent to the Brixtone throne.

The Brixtone prince caught his eye. Cono returned his gaze with a long, chilling look.

In return, the prince gave him a smug smile and stopped in front of Cono.

“Cono Lothar, is it not? I have heard much about you.” Prince Pieter gave Cono no time to reply, walking into the Great Hall without another glance.

The prince of Brixtone knew of him…an impossibility. Cono shook off the ominous sensation that surged through him. There had to be another explanation. If the prince truly knew who he was, neither Sordarin nor Brixtonen would leave him alive.

* * * *

As the sun lowered in the sky, the courtyard rang to the sound of swords clanking.

Unlike the others in his unit, Cono had chosen to spar with a couple of Ederlings, second year cadets, as the sun lowered in the sky. Frustration high, Cono had a need to relieve his aggravation.

The Lankan warriors with skin as black as ink were older, more muscular, more experience than the Fledgling, who had yet to see his sixteenth name day. Lankans were renowned as the tallest, bravest, and most skilled Sordarins.

Neither had an issue in their belief they would better the half-blood.

Another day perhaps, but not today.

Cono sidestepped each blow, meeting steel with steel. While Cono battled back the larger of the two, Gherijt; the other, Ingram, attacked from the rear. Cono pivoted around, slamming into the back of Ingram’s knee. Ingram staggered.

Cono raised his sword and swung, knocking Ingram’s sword out of the Ederling’s hand. It fell harmlessly to the ground. Cono swept the tip of his sword to Ingram’s chest mail.

“Give,” Cono demanded.

Hatred spewed from Ingram’s eyes. His jaw clenched in his refusal. Gherijt regained his footing. Forgetting his training, he charged Cono, who stepped aside. Gherijt slammed hard into Ingram, knocking both men to the ground.

Sword at his side, Cono laughed.

Rage drove both combatants. Scrambling to their feet, the Lankans jostled each other in an effort to grab their swords. Kicking their swords out of reach, Cono raised his weapon toward his fellow cadets.

“Enough. We have been called out.”

Immediately, the Lankans halted and bowed their heads. Cono turned and lowered his sword. He, too, bowed his head toward the cadet with shoulder-length dirty-blond hair. He was a tall man, standing eye to eye with Cono, broad-shouldered with wide, strong wings.

Cono took off his helm and stepped back to allow Prince Silas, third in line for the crown, entrance. Silas, now in his second year at the Citadel, had been destined for a life in the Royal Wings since birth. A life well-suited to his skills.

Silas strode over to the Ederlings. “Go and ready. We are to leave within the hour.”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

Frowning, Cono watched the pair snigger together on their departure. He wanted nothing more than to wipe the smirks off of their faces.

“Ignore them, Cono. Nothing you do at this point will win their respect. You could have driven your sword into their heart and would have gained nothing in the eyes of your clan.”

Cono had always known his clan considered him a half-blood, but to have that fact acknowledged cut like a sword. “I will never cease trying…”

“Nor would I expect any less from you,” Silas cut short Cono’s proclamation. “You have Lothar blood flowing through your veins.”

Cono remained silent. He had come to know King Edulf’s second grandson since his time at the Citadel. He knew of Silas’s determination, hard work, and skill.

“I have need of you, Cono,” Silas continued. “The King’s Wings are set to go out on a special mission. Axel has disappeared from the barracks. He needs to be found.”

A silence ensued. Whispers about the heir apparent were rampant. Unlike his younger brother, Prince Axel was weak and lazy. He had not the discipline needed to train to be a Sordarin but relied upon Silas to oversee what he could not.

“You do not know where your brother is?”

“We both know where he is at.” Silas shook his head. “I need you to go with Totus and retrieve him before the King’s Wings depart. It is a necessity that he goes. Make certain he understands.”

“But of course, Your Grace,” Cono placed his sword back into the sheath. “What message would you have me give him?”

A shadow fell across Silas’ face. “Tell my brother his reign is coming to an end before it begins.”

 

Cono found Totus outside the gates of the Citadel. Both realized the need to keep their assignment quiet.

“Do you know what this is all about?” Cono’s wings flapped, setting to take to the air. “Silas was mysterious about the mission.”

“As well he should be if it is what’s being whispered.” Totus glanced over his shoulder to ensure no one was hiding in the shadows. “It is best to leave it alone. Take heart that Silas holds trust in you or he wouldn’t have sent you to retrieve Axel.”

The night had darkened as a full moon hung low over the castle walls. Cono tapped Totus’ shoulder, motioning to the watch-gate. The guardsmen walked across the wall as they made their rounds.

“You are clever, Cono. Can you not see that Silas has taken it upon himself to oversee Axel?” Totus whispered, stepping back away from the light. “He has entrusted us with the task. You should feel honored.”

Cono gave little credence to the task at hand, nor to the Silas’ supposed trust in him. Silas wanted an underling. Nothing more. Axel, the heir apparent was notorious for his drunken escapades with whores. His brother wanted nothing to do with babysitting the prince.

“You believe we are honored to sneak out to a brothel in an effort to retrieve a drunken fool?” Cono shook his head with a laugh.

“Mark my word, Silas has plans for us,” Totus replied. “You, my friend, are the best swordsmen at the Citadel and you’re only a Fledgling. A smart man is known by the company he keeps. A commander by his men.”

Totus did not need to finish his thought. Cono had heard the same. Silas was strong where Axel was foolish. Unlike his brother, Silas had aligned himself with the most promising cadets, commanding their respect by his own actions.

“It’s time.” Cono looked upward. “The guards have gone.”

“I’d race you,” Totus joked. “But I fear I would be left in your wake.”

Cono’s wings curled out, his feathers flowing lightly in the wind. He gestured with his hand. “After you.”

* * * *

Cono landed outside a ramshackle building that served as a brothel that found favor with most of the Citadel’s cadets, including the prince. Axel was rumored to have many paramours.

Allowing Totus to enter first, Cono walked into the large vaulted common room. There were no stairs to the loft filled with engaging rooms. The whores serviced only Sordarins, who would fly their chosen escort to the loft.

This was not the first time he had come to retrieve Axel. More often than not, the Earl Marshal sent one of his Fledglings to find the wayward prince. Over time, Cono had learned that Axel would be found in a private suite he rented for himself.

Neither he nor Totus needed to be shown the way.

Traipsing through the crowded common outer-room, Cono ignored the young woman who slithered up to his side, running her hand up his armored chest. She was a pretty girl wrapped in wisps of translucent silk, laughing at the lack of attention Cono gave her.

Prancing over to Totus, she ran her fingers through his brown hair. He rounded her waist and kissed her on the lips.

“Ah, my pretty, not tonight.” Totus smiled. “But you will save yourself for me.”

“But of course, my warrior.”

Totus laughed, watching her maneuver toward her next prey. His eyes fixed on her swaying hips.

“Concentrate on the task at hand,” Cono warned. “I do not need to drag two out of this brothel.”

“You know what your problem is, my friend? You are too serious by half.”

“I’m not of your concern,” Cono countered. “Count yourself fortunate that I am the sensible one. Someone needs to be.”

“On that, I will not argue.”

In the far corner, a fire burned. By the hearth, girls sat upon their guests and pressed themselves against their soon-to-be lovers. From the corner of Cono’s eye, he noticed a shapely wench walking toward the doors of Axel’s suite. Two sentries stood on opposite sides of the entry.

One of the sentries reached over to the handle of the door, but hesitated when he caught sight of Cono and Totus. “Prince Axel is needed?”

“His unit is about to depart. Prince Silas sent us.” Cono gestured for him to open the door. In the same motion, he halted the whore’s progress. “Another day.”

Her eyes flared, but she made no protest. Cono moved passed the woman, slinging a coin in her direction. She huffed, no doubt a great deal less than a night with the prince, but a little was better than nothing.

Leaving the sounds of music and raucous laughter behind, Cono walked inside the special suite for the prince. An ornate oil lamp gave the only light to the room. Cono saw the prince on the sagging mattress.

The drunken prince lay naked across a buxom young wench. Pouring wine from his cup over her breast, he proceed to lick it up.

Giggling, the wench said, “Your Grace, we have company.”

“Come in, come in…,” Axel’s words faded into the air as he turned to face his guests. He drained his cup. Wine dribbling down his chin, he belched loudly. “Ah, my brother’s henchmen! Is my life chained to be my brother’s keeper…no…no…I’m not the keeper…he’s my keeper?”

Cono sighed at the drunken man. “Your Grace, your brother requests your immediate presence.”

Throwing his empty goblet across the room, Axel crawled over to the edge of the bed, flapping his wings against his whores. “Out of my way!” He pushed one of the girls out of the bed. “I have a message for my rash brother. He needs a reminder of who is…heir.”

Unabashed, the prince stood naked before the messengers. Not a handsome man, he was a head shorter than Cono, stout with pudgy jowls. Moreover, in a drunken fit, he had shaved his hair, the pride and glory of most Sordarins. 

“I beg Your Grace’s pardon, I am only a lowly messenger.” Cono bowed his head.

“That I have no doubt, Cono the Lankan Warrior. Yes…I know well who you are…I have heard that you feel you have been wrongly treated by your own…that you are out to prove all wrong…”

“I want only to serve my king, Your Grace.”

Axel smirked. “But of course…and my brother.”

“And you, Your Grace,” Cono interjected, knowing well he was treading on dangerous waters. He had learned there was no reasoning with a drunk. “Prince Silas requests your presence. The King’s Wings are flying out on a mission within the hour.”

“What sort of mission does my brother believe I need to be a part of?”

“His exact message—tell my brother his reign is coming to an end before it begins.”

The words sobered the prince, silencing his irritation at being disturbed. He murmured to himself, “Gawds be, they have been found!”

* * * *

Cono waited to escort Prince Axel straightaway to his brother. The prince had not worn the proper attire to fly, but time was of the essence. Axel dressed as he had come with no belt to sheath a sword nor a sword to sheath. No mail to protect his chest, nor helm, his head.

It was not Cono’s worry.

Withdrawing from the brothel brought no attention. Such a common occurrence turned no eyes.

He held the door open until the prince’s entourage had exited into the dark, dank alley. Without waiting for formation, the guards secured His Grace under his arms and took to the air.

Cono, too, readied, but suddenly his blood ran cold as ice. His chest made not a breath. He felt a presence.

He turned to see an old hag.

Thin and frail, she wore a ragged cloak over a tattered dress. Her hood pulled across her wrinkled worn face. Her long nails raked over her weathered hands, but her eyes…her eyes shone a brilliant blue.

“Listen well, Cono, the mighty, for you have been blessed with counsel that will not come again— a bright light cometh that will not be seen. Take heed that the light does not go out. For it gives to us courage when the darkness falls…” She reached out and touched his arm.

A sharp pain shot through him.

He tried to jerk back his arm, but to no avail.

He couldn’t move.

“Take your hands from me, old woman!”

She gave no notice of his demand. “It is you who has been chosen. It is you who will answer if you falter.” Her words said, a silence fell.

As her eyes closed, she slowly withdrew her hand. Then, faded from sight.

Immediately, Cono could move again. He looked one way, then another. She had disappeared, but a pain still seared his arm.

He had no time for the prattling of an old woman. He flew into the night and landed in the middle of the bailey beside Totus. The King’s Wings set ready in formation.

“Silas is castigating Axel in front of all the company. I have never seen him do so publicly. This must be grave, indeed,” Totus said.

The order came to ready. Silas signaled for Totus and Cono to come to his side. Obeying, Cono walked in front of the King’s Wings to Silas’s side. Behind him, fleogans had been brought out for the mission. Strange indeed to include the flying horses.

“What is this?” Silas demanded, grabbing hold of Cono’s arm. He held it out. “By Hades! You have been marked by the heavens.”

Shocked, Cono stared at his forearm. He had been branded—a figure of three spirals spinning had emerged. Shaking his head, he said, “I know nothing, only the foolish gibbering of an old woman, when I exited the brothel. I don’t know whence this came.”

“But there is no denying its existence,” Silas declared. “When we return, we will confer with the Elders. Until then, fly beside me.”

Glancing back, Cono wondered if the orders needed to be cleared by the Earl Marshall. He exchanged looks with Totus, who stood dazed at the events that had unfolded.

There was no time.

The King’s Wings took to the sky.

Not knowing the mission, nor whence they went, Cono flew into position beside Prince Silas.

Kela

 

 

The night was brilliant, magnified by a cloudless sky lit with a full moon with stars sparkling in the heavens. The air was still filled with the sounds of the forest. Crickets chirped, distant wolves howled and water rushing from the Kampar, giving way to a semblance of a peaceful evening.

A façade.

Sareta had told Kela, “They come.”

A fortnight had passed since their encounter with the royal hunting party. The make-shift family had not been idle…they had prepared…at least the best they could.

Now was the wait.

Fire blazed in the hearth at the far end of the chamber, filling the air with its warmth. But the heat had done little to vanquish the chill that had settled in Kela’s chest.

Turstan, the once mighty warrior, paced restlessly before the shuttered windows. More than once, he checked his sword’s edge, the steel sharp and piercing. His pitted, scarred face concealed by a long, heavy beard was softened most times by kind eyes. Now his eyes remained grave and attentive. His body rigid with tension.

Falco seemed prepared, confident. Kela expected little else from her brother. He seemed certain the time had come to make a stand. To fight for his birthright, giving little thought to the danger ahead.

Guilda fed the fire and boiled water for Sareta’s tea. Her hands trembling so badly that Falco had to take the pot from the fire and pour the water himself. He gave her a reassuring smile. To Kela’s amazement, Guilda returned Falco’s heartening gesture with a slight nod as if she too believed there could be no more running.

Kela sat in the shadows, contemplating the unknown. For days, she had endured Turstan’s wrath, which had cut her deep. Turstan, who until now, had always defended Falco and herself from Guilda. On the news of the encounter, he had become so angry that at first he had not trusted himself to speak. Though, it hadn’t taken long for him to find his voice.

“King Gregorius de Flour, King of Brixtone! There is none worse to have knowledge of your existence!” Turstan said hotly.

Falco had warned Kela not to say a word. Just let the burly warrior unleash his fury.

She had not listened.

“I don’t think it’s as bad as you make it out to be,” she protested. “Even if they made the connection, they…”

Turstan cut her short. His temper unbridled. “They will act. Mark my words! None will ignore the power seen…with a young Sordarin. We can do nothing but make a stand!” He stood over Sareta’s bed, who lay listless. “You both know well the cost of being discovered. Have we not instilled within you the need for care?”

“In truth, Turstan, it was not our fault. Falco had not intended to run into the hunting party. I had no choice but to react…and the prince…how could he have known who we are? I had to be mistaken. No one knows we live.”

“Rumors exist. This we know, Kela. Prophecies foretold are not forgotten!” Turstan shouted so loud the walls shook.

Guilda sat on the edge of Sareta’s bed, wringing her old, wrinkled hands together. “Kela, how naive you are! Once suspected, they will use the Hallow Minions to smell out the magic! Sareta is in danger! We have to protect her. She is our only hope.” Guilda looked over at her with ire flaming from her eyes. “Sordarins!”

“I won’t let anyone harm my sister, Guilda,” Kela protested. “I am a protector.”

“You are a child!” she shrieked. Turning her back on Kela, she leaned back over Sareta.

Kela quieted. Love for her family swelled deep within Kela. If I have done anything to do harm! Trying to rationalize her actions, she told herself Sareta had only produced a simple fog. Had Sareta not been called upon to do much more?

Yet, she lay so still.

In the past, Turstan would have defended her when Guilda ranted about the vices of Sordarins. This time, Kela saw only worry in his eyes. He looked to the heavens.

Guilt emerged.

Kela loved her guardian as the father she had lost that fateful night. For well over seven years, Turstan kept to his oath he had given their mother. To be true, Turstan had often lamented his fate with overseeing the care of three needy children.

“This is no job for a warrior! By all in heavin! I have been saddled with a weight that would bring down a lesser man!”

There would also be times he disappeared for days…weeks, but he always returned. Sometimes worse for wear. Giving way for Guilda to harp upon the lack of morals of a Sordarin warrior.

“A real man has needs, by Gotty!” Turstan refuted, and then drank down a flagon of ale.

Guilda ranted at him, but Falco and Kela realized they all had a great need for the aged warrior.

Falco had told Kela that Sordarin warriors would have taken this task as an insult, but Turstan stood by them.

Kela’s thoughts turned to the fate that awaited them. Falco was certain of his…which had been their father’s, Prince Mithelk Calledwdele of Sordarin. He had been first in line to the throne. So, now, it would be Falco’s crown.

Hawkmen ruled Scarladin, country of prosperity, fertile lands and mighty rivers. Turstan boasted of their legacy. “When you look up and see the regiment soar in the skies, all is well. No one dare threaten a Sordarin!”

But they had! Someone had ambushed her father, killing him and her mother! Oh, how I miss her.

When Kela smelled the fragrance of the first spring flowers, her mother’s beautiful face appeared in her mind: her smile, her eyes, the love her mother held for all of her children. She herself was the descendant from the great line of Flandigana within the boundary of Witheleghe, a place most in the Siochanta Realm thought only legend.

Kela had been born strongly Sordarin. In that, she couldn’t deny.

“Your destiny is easiest to define,” Turstan told Kela. “Ah, the princess warrior born to protect. Protect the young prince. Protect your sister. Caught within the middle for the others to fulfill their destiny.”

Previously when danger had to be faced, they had woken in a new place, a new home. But the magic from the box was no more. Moreover, Sareta had neither the strength nor the will to help transport them again.

Kela must have slept for when she looked up, she saw Sareta standing by the fire. Her sister looked so lovely with her dark hair flowing down her back. Her aura glowed as did her eyes.

Sareta said simply, “They are here.”

Running had ceased.

* * * *

A piercing cry broke the silence. For a moment, Kela was too frightened to move. Then the cry became a chorus of unhinging screeches.

“Sordarins!” Turstan yelled. “By Hades! It is the war cry!”

“Sordarins…war cry…against us! Not Sordarins!” Falco shook his head in disbelief. Yet, his instincts unsheathed his sword and readied it forward.

Sordarins? Friend or foe? What of the Brixtones?

Prepare for the worse, Sister. We have no friends.”

Kela’s heart ached for her brother. His dream of a happy reunion faded with a resonating clamor around them. Falco showed no fear. Turstan had trained him well in the ways of the Sordarins.

Sordarins were an aggressive race when it came to protecting their territory. They held no hesitation in challenging a threat. That she had learned alongside of Falco. Despite having been born female, Turstan taught her as well.

“Legend holds the Great One sends Euchouns when the need arises. This I hold too, Kela. You must train for the time will come when you will have to fight, no matter you are female. Everyone is born with a purpose. Do not turn away from the gift of the Great One. Embrace your destiny.”

Guilda persistently stated that Kela should relinquish her ability for Guilda feared Kela would never be accepted.

Turstan, though, had given to Kela the courage to face her calling. The most powerful Euchouns, protectors for the warriors of Sordarins, were called upon only in the most pressing of times. Turstan had faith in Kela’s abilities.

A heartbeat later, the warriors attacked the wanderers. The roof shook as it was ripped apart. Dried mud and straw fell upon their heads. The walls swayed. There had been no warning, no call to surrender, only the marauding warriors invading their home. Outside, commands resonated in Scarladin.

There was no doubt who are the attackers were. Then came smoke.

Kela, the roof.

I’ll hold it until all of you are out. Go…but know you face our attackers with only Turstan until I can let go.

Turstan and I will take care of what we must…

From the corner of her eye, Kela watched her family race out the door. Turstan, first, with Sareta behind him. Guilda rushed to comfort her young charge. Giving Kela a last glance, Falco followed the others.

Kela wasted no time. Her hands outstretched until she reached the door. Only then did she release her hold and race into the night, far away from the burning flame. Turning, she stood confused, not knowing where her family had run. Her eyes blinked rapidly, adjusting to the night’s air, smoke and darkness. Behind her a resounding crash as the roof fell through. In front of her, armored winged warriors—true Sordarins.

Lean, muscular Sordarins with gloved hands clutching swords rushed toward her. However, Kela instantly reacted to the frightened screams of Sareta. She saw a kicking Sareta held in the arms of a brawny soldier. At their side, a tall, fierce warrior with dark yellow hair raised his sword at Turstan.

Turstan bellowed a loud screech and swung his blade. He was no match to his opponent.

The warrior dressed in flight armor was quicker…faster than the siblings’ protector. Turstan fell to one knee, blocking a slice of the Sordarin steel from his opponent. Pivoting, the Sordarin bore down with his weapon toward Turstan’s back.

When Sareta opened her mouth to scream again, Kela blasted her hand, wiping out the warriors charging her and barreling over both Turstan and his assailant. Crawling to his feet, the fallen Sordarin reached for his sword.

Kela shot her hand again. The sword broke into pieces.

The warrior’s eyes flared at Kela, giving her a measured look. Kela returned his cold, hard glare. For a moment, neither of them moved.

“Devil be hanged! She’s a Euchoun!” He cursed loudly. Taking a step back, he pointed behind Kela. “Cono, grab her arms!”

Kela whirled, but too late. Strong hands clasped hold of her and brought her arms roughly down to her side. Struggling fiercely did little to loosen his grasp.

Dark shadows of the night cast an eerie glow on the Sordarins. Trying vainly to wrench herself free, Kela surveyed the scene. Her family had been captured. Turstan was sprawled on the ground before a crying Sareta, who clung to a weeping Guilda.

Falco…her brave, courageous brother…had been disarmed. He stood defiantly between four large Sordarins. Panic seized Kela. Behind Falco stalked a lethal predator. Reflected off the moonlight, Kela saw a blade high in the air aimed at her brother’s back.

Lunging forward, her only thought was protecting her own. The Sordarin’s grip tightened, pulling her back against his armored chest.

A sudden surge of power swept through her like nothing Kela had ever felt. Streams of light exploded from her eyes, blasting with such force that she and the Sordarin who held her were was thrown backwards.

Kela was free! Crawling to her feet, she stood, but could not move.

All around her looked a battlefield. Their home was in ashes. Debris floated downward from the sky covering the Sordarins who lay littered on the ground.

Her family…her precious family…was safe. Thank the Great One!

“By Gawds! Look at the damage you have done to those who came to rescue you!”

Stunned, Kela stared at the young dark warrior, who had held her. Tall, broad wings flexed to ensure they still worked. Dark bold eyes met hers. He looked disheveled with his hair hanging loose. Yet, his face was stern and keen. She lowered her gaze and saw his sword was still secured in his sheath.

Shaking her head, Kela found her voice. “I have only done what I must. Who…who are you rescuing us from? You attacked. What were we supposed to think?”

Turstan gave the warrior no time to answer. He rushed to her side. With a look of pride, Turstan embraced her tightly. A smiling Falco followed, carrying Sareta.

They tried to kill you, Falco. Do not trust any!

They won’t now…not with you by my side! I will make it quickly known who I am.

Do you not believe they knew?

It matters only that now they will know I have returned!

An ominous feeling overcame Kela, but her energy had been sapped. She dare not show her weakness for she trusted none of the words that the Sordarin warrior had uttered. Rescued from who?

The clouds slowly exposed the full moon. The Sordarin warriors began to stand, flexing their massive wings. Orders were barked out. The soldiers followed direction and started forward. Then, a sudden shout had the men running toward the voice.

Frightened, Kela glanced up at Turstan. He swung her back behind him.

Falling to her knees, Kela grabbed hold of Sareta and buried her face into her sister’s shoulder.

Kela found comfort. The fear within her sister had faded, but the whole of her body began to tremble uncontrollably.

“Are we safe?”

“Yes.” Turstan knelt down by her side, his face etched with worry. He reached for her. “For now.”

“I don’t feel well,” Kela managed. Her head hurt; her eyes blurred. Then, everything went black.

* * * *

Movement woke Kela.

She felt air beneath her and wind in her face.

Slowly opening her eyes, Kela recognized she was being held by strong arms, secured by a leather strap.

He whispered in her ear to remain calm, pleading for her to do so.

A sudden realization that the odd sensation she felt was flying made her grip tight to those arms. She cried out to her brother. Falco! Falco!

Falco spoke to her, soothing her, allaying her fears. Sister, calm yourself for all is well. We are beside you. Sareta’s with Turstan, flying in front of you. I’m flying on a fleogan behind you. We are going home. Home!

She calmed. Glancing upward, she studied the handsome warrior who held her. Dark, with large, piercing brown eyes. His face was firm, his jaw strong. He looked down at her with a smile.

“You aren't going to cause any more devastation I hope. We are flying high and the fall would be a long one."

Her fingernails dug into his arms. From the sky, Kela looked down. They were shadows in the early morning light. Trees and fields could be made out clearly, flying high above the Kampar River.

The air was so crisp, Kela gasped, clasping her arms around his neck.

“Have no worries, little one,” he whispered. “I won't let you fall.”

Surprisingly, she took comfort in his words and closed her eyes once more. To her surprise, she fell back into slumber.

 

Kela’s sleep was disturbed. Distant voices called to her, but she could not tell who they were or what they were saying. Visions of people she had known, places she had been, flashed before her. Then as quickly, faded from her view.

When she opened her eyes, Kela saw nothing. Though alone, she wasn’t scared. She knew exactly where she was.

Guilda had talked in detail of the most beautiful city of Rangi, a wondrous place of endless beauty. Twelve crystal towers reigned high in the sky encircled by shiny white marble walls. In the distance, a glorious waterfall roared off a cliff, spraying water upward in a mist off Kororia Lake.

Kela stood on the drawbridge above a moat of deep, running blue water. Before her were luscious green fields, pastures with sheep quietly grazing, and gardens filled with colorful flowers in bloom. Behind her, the sounds of the city resonated: the bustle of the townspeople in the market, horses plodding over the stone streets, and, to Kela’s surprise, a woman’s stunningly exquisite voice singing.

Strange…the song sounded familiar, but for the life of her, Kela could not remember where she had heard it.

“She has a lovely voice, does she not?”

Startled, Kela turned to face a distinguished gentleman. He wore amethyst silk, high black boots, and a dark violet satin cloak. On the breast of his tunic was a mandala, embroidered in gold thread.

In that moment, Kela realized she had on nothing more than peasant’s garb, a long, woolen gray dress with no adornment. She rubbed her hand against the grain of the skirt, feeling the rough, prickly material. Suddenly, she felt totally unworthy of his attention, small and insignificant.

“Dear Kela, hold no worries on what goes against your skin. It is what is in your heart that matters.” With a wave of his hand, she was adorned in an elegant, lavender gown interwoven with glittering diamonds. He continued, “Your wardrobe changes nothing of what you must face. Your courage and character will clothe you…shield you. Riches and honors will gain you nothing.”

“Do I know you?” Kela tilted her head. “Have we met?”

“I am Halmir, brother to your beloved mother, Eufamia, uncle to the Euchoun, Kela Monicalia Flandigana Calledwdele.”

“I don’t understand.”

He looked over his shoulder in a nervous manner. Whispering, he beckoned her closer, “You have been called to see, to understand…there is no more time…he will soon know of your appearance…you will need to understand. Thardalf betrayed your mother, your grandfather, Witheleghe. Thardalf called forth Asmeodai from the darkening chamber. No one is safe. No one. In any realm. Cyaika has already crossed. She waits for Asmeodai, who is assembling an army. Waiting for a sign.”

His face grimaced as visions relived in his mind, grisly, gruesome scenes. “Run, Kela, run! He will devour you. Run quickly.”

“I do not run. I protect.”

Then, Kela saw...

Looming in the distance was a cloud of black dust. The setting sun cast an eerie gloom. Gone were the luscious green pastures, replaced by a barren land and desolate terrain. Laughter and chatter had become unending screams and frightening cries.

The walls crumbled, exposing a burning fire with flames flaring upward. Within the blaze, a loathsome creature walked through the inferno. Emerging, his skin was as leather; his eyes bloody red. A giant of a creature. With long arms that stretched toward her, beckoning with skeletal fingers.

A great evil overwhelmed Kela.

Courageous and valiant, Sordarins were not cowards, but terror seized her. 

Without warning, a light illuminated around Kela, moving her far away from the danger. She found herself within a dense haze, but a soft voice called to her. A remembrance from another time.

“Kela!”

The light moved until a faint image of a figure emerged. A beautiful face of one long gone, but never forgotten…oh, never forgotten.

“Mother!” Kela cried.

“My child.”

Kela heard the words and wanted desperately to run to her mother…to run into the light. She was no longer afraid. She stepped towards the figure. “Mother? Is it you?”

“Halt, Kela. Do not come any closer. You must not come within…not yet. I have only moments. Listen, my precious. Do not forget the words I will utter. Do not let go of the past. It will lead to the future. Do not let go of your siblings. They will have need of you. Trust your instincts. Search out Seilda the Tvopac. She will guide you. You aren’t prepared as you should have been, but all that you need you have. Find your path, Kela. Do not fail, my darling daughter…”

“Mother!” she cried, watching the light fade from view. “Mother, don’t leave me!”

The light disappeared.

Kela ran towards it…and fell out of bed onto a cold, stone floor.

* * * *

Sunlight filtered through a low narrow window in the stone wall. Kela had awakened, but where was she?

Crawling to one knee, she surveyed the chamber. The walls were of gray stone, cold and dank. Yet, she had slept upon a feathered mattress, covered with a thick, soft blanket. Two cushioned chairs with a table and reading lamp sat in front of a warm fire, burning in the hearth.

“Kela, you are awake!” From underneath the covers, Sareta emerged and smiled broadly. She looked lovelier than Kela had ever seen. Her aura had taken shine once more, brighter than ever.

Sareta gleamed happiness at Kela and embraced her tightly. “I have never been so worried. I could not leave you and have been here every night by your side.”

A long moment passed. The visions in her dream had shaken Kela. The longing for her mother renewed. The warnings were locked away, never to be forgotten…but slowly reality seeped back into her world.

“Where is Falco…Turstan…Guilda? What have they done to them?”

Bringing her knees into her chest, Sareta lowered her gaze. “It is not they that you should be worried about. Falco has been given an apartment in the Glas Keep and named heir apparent. His marking could not be denied. He has what he has always wanted, acknowledgement of his birthright.”

“Turstan…what of Turstan?”

“He is in Falco’s household and has been given the title of master of arms. Grandfather says that he will continue to oversee Falco’s training until the Citadel. Turstan has been honored, Guilda says.”

“And what of us?”

“I have been placed in the care of Princess Iris, our aunt. Guilda remains my nurse. My rooms are not far from Falco. Though, he has told me that he will go to the Citadel within the year, as soon as his wings fully form.”

“Am I not with you?” Kela asked, confused.

She shook her head. “Why not?”

“I’m not certain.” Sareta frowned. “I know only Falco told me to find you…and I did, but you have been sleeping ever so long. I have been so worried. I didn’t know if you would ever wake. I have been coming every night.”

“Every night?” Kela grabbed her hand. “For how long?”

“A week…almost.”

“Where…where am I?”

She grimaced. “I’ve heard it called Torni, the Black Tower.” Sareta went silent after she spoke the words. She needed not to say anything else. The bed, the fire, the lamp…she had magically conjured to give Kela comfort.

Kela had been thrown into prison. “Left to die?”

She gasped at the thought of being alone.

Fervently, Sareta shook her head. “No…no. Falco would never allow such. Nurses have been sent to bathe and feed you honey and water until you woke…that I know for a certainty. Only when I came, the chamber was so cold…so wet that I gave to you what you needed. I will do so now. Tell me, what is your will?”

Her beloved sister pleaded with her. For what, Kela wasn’t certain. To be as happy as she…Kela could not be and be separated from her family. But Kela could not cause Sareta distress. “I am hungry.”

“Of course!” she exclaimed. “That is simple…and a new gown.” Reaching over, she ran her hand along the material and winced. “You cannot wear such a thing.”

The next moment, a hot meal of eggs, ham, and fresh bread sat on the table. The plain, white tunic disappeared. In its place, a beautiful sky-blue satin gown embroidered with Sordarin designs embroidered materialized on Kela.

Sareta looked so pleased. Yet, Kela held frustration that would not be so easily relieved.

“I need to know, Sareta. Why am I here? You must know since you are calling the king, Grandfather.”

Her expression saddened. “Falco said they have been arguing over what to do with you. A… conundrum Falco said. Our brother told me to be patient…so you need to be as well. He will not rest until you are with us.”

“Sareta!” Her tolerance worn thin. “Am I not a Euchoun? Have I not shown my worth?”

“Your ability is not in question, my dearest sister.” Sareta choked on her words. “It…is only our cousin, Prince Axel…died in the exchange that night. They…blame you…they say you murdered him.”

Silas

 

 

Since he had his fourteenth name day, Silas had sat on the king’s council, destined to head the armies of the king. His fate had been decided by his birth order. He bore no mark of the heir apparent, nor would he now. His father, Crown Prince Fenwick, had been the second born son to King Edulf and the king’s second wife, Beatrix.

Fate had played an inauspicious ruse on his brother. Axel had been the first born son, but even Axel had not borne the mark. Silas had known…the whole court realized that the true heir was not his father nor Axel…that Mithelk’s son, Falco, lived.

Silas held little memory of the young prince before his disappearance. Yet, he recalled the chaos that besieged the palace upon Mithelk’s death and the destruction of Nottesdone well. Taking the death of its beloved prince as a bad omen, the country fell into deep mourning.

Fearing a rebellion without a true heir, King Edulf, had defied the rights given to the heir apparent. He had Fenwick tattooed with the emblem of the golden hawk; the same tattoo repeated on Axel.

This day however his grandfather’s actions had come back to haunt him. The true heir had returned and the false one, murdered. 

King Edulf sat stoically at the head of the table in the council’s chamber surrounded by his trusted advisors. His majesty gave no indication of his thoughts, but Silas knew his grandfather well.

King Edulf was a simmering flame about to ignite.

Rarely did the king dress formally so early in the morning. He had done so this day. His long, silver hair had been tied back neatly in a queue. The jeweled crown on his head was worn only when he wanted to intimidate.

He wanted to intimidate this day.

Clear-eyed and clean-shaven, the years had been kind to the king. Strong and firm, the king still soared in the skies over Yucca, as he had done for the last thirty-seven years. In those years after the Arachnidan Terror, his rule had been fair and just. Scarladin had prospered, but King Edulf had done so with an iron fist, not to be questioned.

Silas admired his grandfather. When after having declared Mithelk’s children dead…then with their reappearance, King Edulf stood openly and declared that his faith in the Great One had been rewarded.

“Tell me again as to how you accompanied my Wings without my knowledge?”

Silas watched in awe as Cono did not flinch, standing before the whole of the council in the richly furnished chamber. The young warrior stood upon deeply threaded Azmaion carpets surrounded by Scarladin tapestries hung upon the walls, scenes of glorious battles won. Grand doors made of the rare pavolin wood from the farthest reach of Scarladin, the Forbidden Forest, carved with Sordarins in flight, closed tightly behind him.

“I followed orders, Your Grace.”

“They were my orders, Grandfather.” Silas offered in the exchange. “Cono has distinguished himself in his brief time at the Citadel. I took him along with another cadet, Totus, as my men.”

King Edulf glared at Silas for a long moment. “Yet untrained King’s Wings.”

“But it was not he that caused the rift. The Earl Marshal attacked without provocation. I held Cono and Totus back. We had nothing to do with the fire or the proceeding battle. I tried only to disarm. When I recognized the Euchoun, I commanded Cono to hold the girl’s arms down, to do no harm.”

All eyes turned to the Earl Marshal, who stood behind Cono. He took a step forward and bowed his head.

“What says you, Earl Marshal from the House Halstead?” King Edulf asked. “Speak up. My grandson has directly contradicted your account.”

“If it pleases Your Majesty, the mission was to retrieve the occupants of the cottage. Your men held true. We captured the lot of them and brought them back to you.” His look toward Lord Moryn did not go unnoticed by Silas.

“By Gawds!” King Edulf boomed in a voice that would have carried over any battlefield. “Your orders were to obtain the inhabitants to see if they were indeed my missing grandchildren…not to engage in battle!”

“Your pardon, Your Grace, the battle was most unfortunate,” Earl Marshal offered, pointing at Cono. “If not for his inexperience, we would have managed without aggression. The men were on edge for all know we cannot trust any Brixtonen, especially that peacock of a prince that gave us the information. With the screech of that scared one, the men went into battle formation.”

Cono stood firm. “I made no cry, Your Grace.”

“Someone did!” King Edulf stated. Rising from his seat, he walked up to Cono. “If not you, who?”

Shaking his head, Cono defended himself, “I know not who it was, but I know it was not I.”

“I will confirm Cono’s claim, Grandfather,” Silas confirmed. “He flew beside me.”

“Then who made the cry? Who wanted to attack my grandchildren?” King Edulf demanded, snapped his head back at Silas.

Silas looked at the Earl Marshal. His account of the mission varied greatly from the reality of what had happened. Silas had always known the man to be honest and true. There again was much more going on here than how the mission went wrong.

There had been no random cry. The surprise attack had been precise, enacted as Earl Marshal had planned. The question lay in what had been the intent.

Silas acknowledged he had not been summoned to accompany the King’s Wings. But when, at King’s Council, the arrogant Brixtone prince proclaimed he had found Mithelk’s children, Silas would not be tied down to the barracks.

It had been he that had insisted Axel come with them. In his eyes, they were duty bound— the grandsons of King Edulf—to face their cousins…if in truth, they were his cousins. They had been…and much more.

True, Silas was young…yea…in years, but he had been raised in the King’s household. Now, he sat upon a quandary for suddenly it had become obvious. Someone had had other plans concerning the missing children.

Plans that had gone array.

His grandfather? Silas thought not. King Edulf had accepted back Prince Mithelk’s children, especially Falco, who bore the true mark. One look, Silas could tell that Falco had the makings of a respected ruler, much like the king himself, unlike Axel.

Silas glanced over at his father, the great Lord of Dwennon, Crown Prince of Scarladin…though that would change once Falco was declared.

Could it have been his father? He had the most to lose with Falco’s appearance.

His father was no longer heir apparent.

A fact that would make his mother, Lady Dagmar, quite wretched, more so than even losing her eldest son.

Her position in court would change. Her desire to be queen one day dashed.

That ambition that could have led to a rash decision to alter Falco’s fate. But his mother had no power over the King’s Wings. Moreover, she was much smarter than that. She would be much more devious than a blatant out and out attack on the siblings.

Whoever it had been had no inkling what they faced when they called the attack. A most powerful Euchoun, protector of Sordarins…and she protected her own. In the most impressive manner.

Who would have thought a Euchoun a woman!

“I do not mean to go against the young prince. I’m certain he was distraught over the loss of his brother. It is difficult in the midst of battle to determine the interactions of everyone around you,” Earl Marshal barked.

Honor and loyalty had been the staple of his character. Silas would never allow a slight to blemish his reputation. “It does not take experience to hear an order, Earl Marshal,” Silas declared in a stiff voice. “I have also been known to recognize when a warning has been given. There was no warning.”

“Once the war cry was given, we attacked the cottage immediately, Your Majesty,” Cono bolstered Silas’ claim. “Torches lit the thatched roof. Then, we readied, only to be facing down a crippled Sordarin and a boy, who doesn’t even have his wings. Both fought valiantly, but were no match for us. What we weren’t prepared for was a Euchoun…”

“Who killed my son!” Prince Fenwick interrupted hotly. “There will be consequences.”

“I had hold of her, Your Grace. She killed no one. The blast hurled everyone in her path away from her family. That was all,” Cono stated unflinching.

“Hold,” King Edulf said. His attention focused on Cono. “You had hold of the girl…by her arms?”

“Yes, Your Grace,” Cono answered. “Prince Silas recognized her ability. He gave the order.”

“Tell me how she accomplished such an action with her arms by her side?” King Edulf demanded. “An impossibility.”

“A light projected from her eyes,” Cono continued. “Leaving our men sprawled over the ground, yet her family unharmed.”

Silas watched his grandfather search Cono’s face. No Euchoun had ever been able to project without the use of their hands. This girl had.

“If she did as you say, then how did she kill Prince Axel?” King Edulf questioned, glancing over at the Earl Marshal. “And why?”

“She did not, Your Grace. She couldn’t have. She was within my view the entire time,” Cono said firmly. “She was unconscious when Prince Axel was discovered with a knife in his back.”

Staring straight at the Earl Marshal, King Edulf folded his hands in front of him. His anger apparent to all within the chamber. He raised his voice, “The last week, I have focused upon the loss of one grandson and the discovery of another. I placed trust in you, Earl Marshal. It seems I was mistaken to have done so.”

King Edulf motioned for Ser Ruche, the Court’s Justice. “Take the Earl Marshal to Torni.”

Perplexed, Earl Marshal protested fervently, “Your Grace, I have done nothing wrong. I have been a faithful servant…”

“You have lied to me,” King Edulf said as he watched the brawny Ruche take hold of the Earl Marshal’s arm. “Pray to the Great One that is the worst of your sins.”

 

The reddish rays of the first light of dawn stretched over the horizon. Silas had yet to lay his head on a pillow. He could find no peace. He couldn’t stop thinking of his brother—who had died because him.

Guilt gnawed at his soul.

Axel was to have been king, not by strength, but by birth. Despite his brother’s weaknesses…and there had been many…Silas had loved him.

Theirs births had been close, only eleven months between the two. They had grown up side by side, though it had always been him, the younger, who protected Axel.

Axel had not been born to lead. He cowered at any confrontation, hiding behind his title…hiding behind his brother.

That was the way between the brothers. He had sworn to Axel his allegiance when he was ten. He swore he would always be by his brother’s side. He had held to it…

Now, Axel was dead because of his insistence.

In the cool morning air, Silas walked within the royal gardens. The scent of gardenias lingered in the air, but he gave it no notice, nor to the lustrous abundance of blooming roses. He wanted only to be away from everyone.

He heaved a heavy sigh. 

Looking upward, he saw the morning unit soar out of the bailey. The sight gave comfort to the masses below. A façade that all was right.

All was not right.

“I, too, could find no sleep.”

Silas turned to see the king. “I have much on my mind, Your Grace.”

“As we all do,” King Edulf motioned back toward Wystan Keep. The king’s apartment was in Collewihr Holdfast, a massive fortification nestled at the top of the highest tower of the Keep. Down below the balcony, guardsmen stood in continual watch on the ramparts. “Let us go to my suite. We need to talk without ears around.”

Straightway, Silas followed his grandfather. Landing, he walked through the open glass doors. Fire blazed in giant hearth, burning the cold from the early morning air. Flapping his wings, Silas tucked them back and settled into one of the Sordarin chairs.

King Edulf went over to the decanter and poured two cups of wine. Dressed still in a white linen tunic and gray pants, he gave one cup to Silas. Walking over to the hearth, he stared at the arching flames.

“I have been betrayed,” King Edulf said at last.

“No, Grandfather. We have been betrayed.”

“My own fault for I am certain the betrayal is deep within my ranks.”

“My Lord Earl Marshal?”

“Possibly.” King Edulf turned around. His eyes staring straight ahead. “His Lord Halstead has been my faithful servant since the Terror. I find it hard to imagine that he has forsaken me…hard, but not impossible.”

“I have learned to face facts before me. The girl did not kill Axel, on that be assured. Though, to be true, she worries me, Grandfather, as does the emergence of the new heir apparent.”

King Edulf frowned while he drank from his cup. He looked uncomfortable. “For certain, you have heard the rumors of your cousins. I understand your concerns, but if your cousin lived, you must have been aware that one day Falco would come home to reclaim what was his.”

“If I can speak frankly.”

“You may.”

“I thought as you had proclaimed my father crown prince and declared Axel his heir that you had given up on the notion Falco lived.” He knew he treaded on dangerous ground. No one questioned the King, not even his grandson.

“Ah, the young!” The King emptied his cup, slamming it down onto the side table. “To know so much, yet know nothing.”

“I beg your pardon, Grandfather? It is only…you did not see the power the girl exhibited. As nothing I have ever seen…how could she be my cousin? A woman as a Euchoun? That has to be questioned.”

“A question without answer.” The King swore under his breath, looking away again at the fire. “I have thought of nothing else since the children were discovered. For I have been tricked before by the Withelegheans. Now I’m beginning to wonder what else has been held from me.”

“Tricked, Grandfather?”

King Edulf walked out on the balcony. Silas followed. He could see the King’s expressive face. The man was wrestling with demons.

“What do I not know?”

The king groaned. “I made a match for your Uncle Mithelk with a Witheleghe, payment in our defense, our swords, against the Terror. It was one to be envied. A Sordarin wed to a Witheleghean. The magic we were to have…the power! Except when the time came, King Daruis sent his second born daughter to honor our agreement…the arrogant bastard had the gall to send me his second daughter…refused me his eldest. The impudence!”

“None the less, the princess must have had magic.”

King Edulf roared in laughter. “How little you know…how little did I know then. The Withelegheans hoard their magic. Three Hells to his Majesty! I hadn’t a clue that Witheleghean law rules their land. That once married to an outsider the Withelegheans lose their magic.”

“Yet, the magic must have passed to her children. The youngest glows.”

“There is the rub,” King Edulf nodded, the sly smile still on his face. “I had no knowledge that the magic would pass to the next generation, if the princess had none herself.” He drew in a sharp breath. “According to young Falco, he holds some. He communicates mentally with his siblings at will…can talk and understand any language. Sareta is the one that holds the magic that most covet. Their middle sister is the one that is the Euchoun…a bloody Euchoun.”

“As I spoke, an impossibility.”

“Yet, she is.” King Edulf’s mouth twisted into a bitter grimace. “The question becomes was that Withelegheans’ plan all along?”

Silas’s curiosity rose. He asked quietly, “But why would they have thought a Euchoun would emerge from the union?”

“Why indeed…but I suspect.” King Edulf said as if he was talking to himself. “I do not take well to be taking for a fool.”

“Why do such a thing? Euchouns were given to us Sordarins as a gift from the Great One. To protect us…”

“When we are threatened…Yes, I know the prophecy well,” King Edulf finished. “I also realize that as strong as the Euchoun you described emerges only when the threat is as great or greater. I sense it coming. Do you not?”

“The disturbances along the border?” Silas shook his head. “No, they have been silenced.”

“Have they? What of Axel’s death? Who would benefit from it?” King Edulf argued. “No one that I can see. The assailant would have known of the three’s emergence. You would have gained nothing because of Falco’s return. Axel’s death begets chaos, leaving doubts in our hearts. Making us question each other. It was how it was before the Terror. It is how the Arcadians think.”

“Arcadians? Here in Yucca? In your Wings?” Silas could not withhold his disbelief. “Never.”

“If you want to be a defender of Scarladin, do not discount what you don’t understand,” King Edulf said. “You need to question everyone, every motive. You haven’t even questioned how I came to know the Three were there in Brixtone.”

“I assumed it had to do with Prince Pieter’s visit.”

The king’s eyebrows raised dubiously. “Yes, the prince was quite forthcoming…for a price.”

“How much did it cost us?”

“The Euchoun. I gave a Meitfe Oath.”

* * * *

King Edulf stated, “We must never give Brixton our Euchoun. It cannot happen.”

Silas agreed with his grandfather. The magnitude of the decision was not lost on him. He had been taught to respect and honor oaths. One’s word reflected on more than just a man, but his house as well. Yet, the consequences of keeping to this oath would have far reaching effects.

The penalty for reneging on a Meitfe Oath was death. There had to be a way out of the dilemma. That had been the reason for the king to have called the special council.  

“There has to be a solution,” Lord Lothar said, sitting next to the king. “We need time to find an answer. At this point, delay is our only choice. I believe that would be understandable and Prince Pieter could hardly protest. The girl has only thus turned thirteen and has only recently been returned to her home. She does not want to be separated from her siblings.”

Lord Lothar, a highly respected warrior, spoke with wisdom. Silas doubted that Lothar had ever considered breaking one of his oaths, but even he recognized the danger of upholding the agreement.

“I say that we offer Prince Pieter, the Princess Belasquita. Surly, he would not object. She is beautiful, poised, and set to be a queen,” Lord Pigoc offered. An elderly man with a thick, coarse gray beard, he was short, which was not uncommon for an Osmolado. Though, the clan was more renowned for their quickness. Over the years, he had acquired a stoop when he walked and a tremble in his wings.

“Was this solution one you came up on your own? Or is this the Lady Dagmar suggestion? Her daughter for Prince Pieter?” Lothar asked icily.

“Lady Dagmar knows that the prince is here, and is quite intelligent enough to propose the arrangement. She has no knowledge the prince has requested the middle child…the Euchoun,” Pigoc huffed. “Why would she? We are holding the girl in Torni, but I do believe that Lady Dogmar is concerned that Prince Pieter has the youngest in his sights.”

Silas smirked. So like his mother, worried and anxious for her daughter. Nothing was good enough for Belasquita but a future king. He could well imagine her plotting with Lord Pigoc…and Axel not cold in his grave.

“No one outside this room should know of what we talk,” King Edulf said with a voice like an edge of a sword.

“I would never, Your Majesty.” Pigoc lowered his head in a bow. “It was a mere suggestion.”

King Edulf’s face tightened. “This meeting is to deal with the problem at hand. My three missing grandchildren have returned. I hold no doubt that Falco is Mithelk’s child. Falco looks like his father and holds the mark of the heir.”

His grandfather made no mention of the Witheleghean nurse or of the Sordarin guard with the children as he had with Silas in the morning. Both gave vivid details of their journey, which upheld the children’s claim.

“The realm will welcome the prince home, Your Grace,” Lothar said. “The people will rejoice, brightening the darkness that has befallen us with Prince Axel’s death.”

“So it is agreed that we will acknowledge the two, Falco and Sareta,” King Edulf said. “The young princess will be raised with my daughter, Iris, and her family. Falco will be crowned heir apparent after a sufficient amount of time has passed. The celebration will be in accordance of the joy of reuniting with my grandchildren.”

“The girl?” Silas had not received an answer from his grandfather in the morning. He pressed, “We cannot let her pass out of our hands. A Euchoun is too valuable to Scarladin. I offer for her…”

King Edulf raised his hand to halt Silas’ words. “A Euchoun such as she…that is a delicate situation to allow any marriage. She has not bonded yet. Though with the power she displayed, it would be my thought that it is her brother.”

“I would train her, Grandfather,” Silas continued his quest. “She is strong as a Euchoun, but weak as a female. Her emotions played with her. Look how long it took her to recover. That could never be in a battle.”

“Agreed.” King Edulf admitted. “But if I give her to you, I will endure not only the wrath of Brixtone, but of the Great One for breaking my Meitfe Oath.”

“I reiterate, the best solution is to keep her in the Tower and not acknowledged,” Lothar spoke clearly. “From my understanding, she is being well cared for.”

“Her sister has seen to her needs,” King Edulf smiled for the first time. “The chamber is better furnished than my own.” The king looked over at Silas. “I can give you the younger if you want.”

Silas shook his head. He had no desire to be betrothed to a child, who would give him nothing, losing her magic the moment they married. “I am honored at the offer, but if I can politely refuse. I offered for her sister only for the betterment of Scarladin.”

“Your dedication to our great realm has been duly noted,” King Edulf acknowledged. “In truth, I have another task in mind for you, my grandson.”

“Your Grace, I’m yours to command,” Silas said with reverence according to his grandfather’s station in life.

King Edulf seemed pleased. “I want you to oversee the heir apparent as you did your brother before him. Train him for the path in front of us. You will ease the worries of an old man to know that he will leave his kingdom in the strong hands of my blood.” King Edulf sat back, gesturing for more wine. “Now, let us turn our attention to who killed my grandson.”

* * * *

Silas returned to his apartment, tired, hungry and annoyed. He wanted nothing more than a hot meal, bath and Juye, his paramour. He needed a good fuck.

Walking in from the balcony, he was greeted with the smell of freshly cooked pork and bread, but his dreams of a short supper dissipated quickly. His sister, Belasquita, sat at his table. “What in Hade’s name are you doing here?”

Belasquita smiled, a smile Silas had seen a million times in his youth. She wanted something.

“I had heard you have been busy these last few days,” she said. She wore a gown of crimson, trimmed in Azmaion gold lace, complimenting her complexion. Braided off her face, her long blonde hair flowed down below her shoulders as her large deep blue eyes flashed at him. “Is it a crime to ensure the welfare of my only surviving brother?”

“You have never cared before, little sister.”

Silas sat down at the other end of the table and poured a drink. Taking a sip, he asked, “Where, pray tell, are my servants?”

“I dismissed them for the time being,” she answered in a voice as soft as silk. “I had need to talk to you in private without fear of being overheard.”

“I take it Juye as well. You do realize this is her home.”

“At the present moment,” Belasquita said. “But do not worry. Your whore will return presently. I have never understood your need to have two households. Everyone knows of your mistress.”

“For peace and solitude,” Silas’ voice was heavy and blunt. “Be quick with your request. I’m tired and have not the patience for your antics.”

“I want to know of our new found cousins, Silas.”

Leaning over the table, he reached for the meat and took a huge bite. He chomped loudly, staring at Belasquita, who laughed at him for his childish behavior.

“Come, Brother, I am going nowhere until we have come to an understanding.”

“And what will that be?”

“Do not play games. The court is ablaze with rumors. Axel is dead…the long thought dead prince has returned…and a Euchoun.”

Silas slammed down his cup. The table shook. “Where did you hear that?”

“Mother, who I imagine heard it from Lord Pigoc,” she began. “Truly, it makes no difference, only that she is here. Which poses a problem for both of us it seems?”

“It is no problem for me.” Silas frowned.

“Isn’t it?” Belasquita persisted. “Grandfather foolishly promised her to Prince Pieter.”

“He was tricked,” Silas said. “Prince Pieter is nothing more than a charlatan. Falco told to us the prince was there the day that the girl exposed her power. Then, he sat about to fool the king, knowing no one would suspect what she truly was.”

“It matters only that we cannot let the union happen.”

“It is the first thing that you said that I agree with.” Silas’s interest peaked. “How, dear sister, do you propose that we put a stop to it?”

KELA

 

 

In the mornings, Kela found herself looking forward to the start of the day. Over three months had passed. She had still not been acknowledged nor had she been removed from the cell she had woken on her arrival in Yucca.

Yet, Kela was not a prisoner.

She woke most days to the enjoyment of a bath that Sareta supplied for her. She took pleasure that the tub would be filled with steaming water, in which she soaked herself for an eternity with no concern for privacy. Sareta took care of that issue, as well.

Sareta conjured up a curtain on the watcher’s eye in Kela’s cell. Then, she transported Kela to her chamber. Much more comfortable than Kela’s dank cell.

It was such fun for the two sisters to play these games.

Sareta enjoyed this time they had together, just the two of them. No one else could know or their games would stop.

Though, there was one.

He came to Kela shortly after Sareta and she began their adventures. Prince Silas Calledwdele was her direct cousin, being his father was Kela’s half-brother. He had been the only visitor.

Kela remembered from that night. He had been the one to recognize her powers…ordered her to be taken.

Silas came unannounced before the evening sun set. Handsome, she supposed. His dark yellow hair was tied back in a queue, as was the custom of Sordarins. He had a look that reminded her of Falco. His brown eyes shone with confidence as he regarded her curiously.

“I beg your pardon, Kela. You must excuse me being so bold and using your given name, but we are cousins.”

“That is what I hear, but I have been told nothing, not even why I’m being held in a cell.”

“It is for your protection. You have my word.” He smiled, a smile that most would have found charming. She did not.

“That is strange,” she replied. “For there was a rumor that I was being charged with killing Prince Axel.”

“You were not seriously considered.” Silas sighed. “Not that the power you exhibited could not have caused a death, but the villain that killed my brother was a coward. He knifed Axel in the back.”

“Then why am I here?” Kela asked suspicious of his motive for this visit.

“I told you—for your protection,” Silas repeated. “The king sent me to assure that you are comfortable.” He glanced around the cell. “It seems you are.”

“Because of my sister,” she retorted. “Why am I here and not with my family?”

“Think, dear cousin. You are how old?”

“Twelve…thirteen,” Kela answered, almost forgetting she had had another nameday.

“You are old enough to realize how important Euchouns are to our realm. More than that, how important it is to be inconspicuous…especially a female.”

“You doubt my ability?” Kela challenged.

“Quite the opposite.” His tone turned serious. “I will not mince words. There is a danger emerging within Yucca. That night we came to bring your family home, someone murdered my brother. Do you know what I believe?”

Kela stared at him in confusion, not knowing what game he was playing. Despite her protest, she was no more than a child. She had no guidance, no Turstan, Falco, or even Guilda.

Pulling her shoulders back, she raised her gaze to meet his. “I have no idea.”

“I believe their intent was to murder you and your family. When we came, we were not supposed to attack, only to retrieve you and yours. Then came the cry of a Brixtone ambush. If not for your powers, there is the distinct possibility you would not have survived, at least not Falco.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You are now in the court of King Edulf. There are many dangers that lurk in the dark.”

Pondering his words, suddenly, they became clear. “You believe that because they could not kill us, they turned on your brother in hopes of creating chaos.”

“It would be wise to trust no one.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“For you need to understand,” he said sternly. “You have a different path than your siblings. I have never heard of a female being a Euchoun, much less one with the power you displayed. A gift some say… others claim it is a curse.”

“A curse? Never.” Anger coiled inside of her at the suggestion.

“Then you are foolish. The life of a Euchoun is one of sacrifice.” He gave her a sharp look. Then, he laughed. “I suppose now is not the time to tell you what is ahead for you. Instead, let me give you permission.”

“Permission to do what?”

“To see at least your sister. The king sees no harm in the interaction, as long as it is done in secret, which with your sister’s magic can be done.”

“Why then do I have to stay here?”

“The king’s order,” he said. “I’m not going to repeat myself. There are matters that are unsettled about you, but know that the king is going to protect you for not only are you a Euchoun, but his granddaughter. Calledwdeles protect their own.” 

Silas, as he told Kela to call him, went into great detail about the family. A family she had little knowledge of…His father, Prince Fenwick; his mother, Lady Dagmar; his sister, Belasquita, who was born a year after Silas who had seen nineteen name days and the dead prince, Axel. King Edulf’s only daughter, Iris, and her husband, Archibaldus, Lord of Runswick, who had three daughters of their own: Amicia, the eldest, the same age as Kela, and the twins, Wymarcha and Cinara, a year older than Sareta.

He said he remembered her father. “A brave Sordarin. One I greatly admired…and have aspired to be like him.”

Upon the mention of Kela’s father, she softened toward him.

Silas left with an understanding. He gave his word he would look after Falco. She gave hers that she wouldn’t try to contact her brother.

Kela couldn’t deny that she was disappointed when she learned that the king had commanded Sareta to shield Falco’s ability to communicate with her.

The reason was clear, Silas said, “Falco does not need a distraction.”

There were stipulations to her limited freedom, but those she could abide. Though she did not trust Silas fully, Kela took comfort that her siblings were well and, also, in the knowledge that Sareta had the ability to transport the two of them if the need arose.

In the end, Kela had few complaints.

The two sisters talked more than they even had. Kela discovered that Sareta was nervous about all the attention bestowed upon her.

“Do you want to leave?” Sareta asked. “We, two. We could go upon our own. We can’t be separated. Not yet, Kela.”

“I will never abandon you, Sareta. We will stay for now. Do not worry about me. I will deal with all that I have to face, knowing that we are together.” Kela moved over to Sareta’s side and hugged her tightly. “Talk to me about your life in court. I want to hear everything.”

Sareta’s passive nature seemed to draw from Kela’s strength. Sareta told Kela all about her new life.

Kela took heart to find that their aunt had taken Sareta into her family with open arms.

Aunt Iris had a great love for her older brother, Mithelk, and his wife, Eufamia. Iris had knowledge of their mother’s home and magic, more so than Kela believed the king had. She encouraged Sareta to listen and learn all she could.

Time passed. If the truth be known, Kela was quite enjoying herself. The bars had no hold on her. Sareta had seen that Kela had her freedom. The two were closer than they had ever been. There were days when they would ride in the countryside by Pariti Lake. Other days, they would picnic by the river’s edge.

Guilda had never allowed the girls the independence they had during those days. With the help of Sareta’s magic, Kela and Sareta walked through the streets without a second glance. They played in the gardens with other children of the castles, a liberty the two would never have been given in ordinary circumstances.

It was on one of these bright mornings that a plan came to Kela. She had been grateful for the time she had had with her sister. Yet, she had a deep need to see her brother…to talk to Falco.

If Kela sneaked into the barracks, she would dishonor her brother, which she would never do. Her warden, as she now thought of Silas, had watchful eyes on Kela that never allowed her to wander close to Falco. But she had another who had Falco’s ear—Turstan.

Her word to Silas forgotten, Kela’s idea was simple. Cassie, the cook’s daughter, would deliver Turstan a message from Kela. Cassie would merely tell Turstan to meet Kela in the Royal Gardens with the new sun of the dawning day.

Cassie readily agreed to Kela’s request. She had become Kela’s first true friend. The two had met quite by accident on one of Kela’s venture into the bailey.

At times, Sareta only saw to Kela’s freedom for the day. Sareta had responsibilities that came from being a royal. On this day, music lessons had called Sareta back to the castle, leaving Kela alone in the Royal Gardens.

Bored waiting for Sareta’s return, Kela climbed up on the narrow stone border of the Sundaze Fountain. She promptly fell into the fountain at the same moment two guards were patrolling.

Immediately, the guards yelled and ran toward her. Afraid of being discovered, Kela scrambled out of the water and ran. Racing through the atrium, a hand reached for Kela and pulled her down behind the rodina bush covered its large, fragrant blooms.

The bushes had huge thorn leaves, a perfect place to hide. Cassie led Kela through the broad branches with ease. Ducking down, the two watched the guards hunting for Kela. When the guards gave up their search, Cassie smiled.

Kela would come to know that Cassie always smiled.

The two girls giggled and embraced.

A friendship formed.

The girls were of the similar age and height. Though Kela had not dared share who she really was, Kela told Cassie her father had been a warrior for King Edulf. Cassie had showed no hesitation in sharing her life with Kela.

Kela had met Cassie’s mother, Magge, and younger sister, Ivy. Both had been warm and welcoming.

“My father died in battle as did yours. We were fortunate that Father was respected and served with bravery,” Cassie told Kela. “His commander found Mother the position as cook here at the castle. Otherwise, we would have been cast into the streets.”

The thought made Kela shudder. Cassie was the sweetest person Kela had ever known. Kela always looked forward to seeing her smiling friend. They played with the same exuberance and dreamed of the life before them.

She became dear to Kela, lending to the faith Kela held in her.

Kela’s confidence was answered.

In the dim light of the early morn, Turstan waited for Kela under the giant marble statue of a Sordarin warrior near the fountain. Behind him, the majestic Preda mountain range reigned as white clouds gathered along the peaks, giving way to a haze that covered the ground.

Kela was thankful for the fog. She gave no thought to running into Turstan’s strong arms without worry of being watched. Such happiness surged through her. For so long Kela had denied her need for her family, a need that had played against her half-Witheleghean heart.

Her Sordarin nature dominated her passive nature, but there were times when she could not fight against the sentiment that welled in her. Her heart went out to him. Kela wept.

“Child, child,” Turstan whispered. “What is wrong? Has not your welfare been seen to?”

She gave no answer, holding tightly to him. Forgotten was her carefully thought out words. Instead, she took comfort in his arms.

Finally, Turstan pulled her back and looked into her eyes. “I was told that you were safe and well cared for.”

Taking a long look at her friend, his appearance had changed. To be sure, he was clean. His beard had been neatly trimmed, but he wore a gray robe, not the gold and brown of the Royal Wing.

“I was told you were now in charge of Falco’s household, which would mean you were back within the Royal Wings. You are not?”

Turstan frowned. “I’m a damaged warrior, my child. My wing is beyond healing. I can never serve again in the Royal Wings. I am now master of arms for the heir apparent.”

“Then, you have been given a position of importance?” Kela searched his expression in confusion for his manner of clothing did not lend to that conclusion.

“Falco has been acknowledged. That is the most important matter.”

Yet, Turstan had not been recognized for being the man who had protected the heir apparent for years. That had been made clear.

“I want to go home, Turstan,” Kela whispered. “I don’t like it here. Sareta is better, stronger. We can leave.”

“No, child.” His face softened. Reaching over, he wiped back her tears. “Your place is here. Sareta is better because we have not needed her magic continually. For years she has been drained. She is in no shape to do as you suggest. Don’t ask her. We will have to deal with things the way they are. It’s time to stop running.”

“But I have been treated unfairly,” Kela pleaded. “I’m kept in the Black Tower.” She saw immediately that she would not draw sympathy.

Turstan released his hold on her. “I trained you better. I taught you to fight, not whine. How bad can it be?”

“What do you have me do? The king has separated us…”

“Do not waste time feeling bad for yourself. Remember there is always another that has it…” Turstan silenced.

A figure emerged out of the fog. He was a tall, broad shoulder man with hair as bright as the mid-day sun. Clean shaven, his eyes were clear and green, like the open meadow. The cloak he wore was brilliant blue with the sigil of House de Flour.

Recognizing him immediately, Kela froze. He was not a man to forget—the prince from the Brixtone hunting party.

He bowed, smiling as if he was quite pleased with his discovery. “I believe introductions are in order, my lady. I am Prince Pieter de Flour of Brixtone. It is good to see you well. I understand you have had quite the adventure, but it must be satisfying to know that you are back among your people.”

Without warning, he took Kela’s hand and kissed it. “I’m happy to have had a hand in your return, Princess Kela Calledwdele of Scarladin.”

No one had ever used her title, nor would anyone think to do so. She had met Turstan under the cloak of secrecy, having made a concerted effort to conceal her identity. She was dressed as a servant girl with a long gray tunic and a leather belt tied at her waist, her hair loose about her shoulders.

Kela wasn’t foolish enough to ignore the foreboding overcoming him to be talking with this Brixtone. “How do you know of me?”

“Let us just say that I realize that the rumors of your existence held truth to them when I saw you in the Black Forest,” he said in a low voice. “I have always held interest in such matters. This time my knowledge paid off, did it not?”

“You are a Brixtone prince.” Her distrust evident in her tone.

His smile widened. “That is true, but I hope you will come to realize that I’m your friend. Today our time will be brief. I wanted only for us to make a formal acquaintance.”

She paused a moment, but before she spoke, a commotion arose behind him. Prince Pieter gave no notice of the guards descending down upon them.

Placing his hand on Turstan’s shoulder, Prince Pieter said, “You are a good man and warrior. You have done your duty well.”

The Brixtone prince turned from her. Kela could not hear the words he said. Instead, she faced an onslaught of angry faces: Silas, the warrior that had flown her to Yucca, and one Kela held dear—Falco.

Joy surged through her heart at the sight of her brother. It took all her will not to run to him. But she could not…she would not humiliate him so.

Though only three months had passed, Falco had changed. His wings had emerged. He looked now like a true Sordarin. Kela’s heart swelled with pride, angered only by her inability to communicate with him.

“Prince Pieter,” Silas stepped forward, gesturing for the prince to follow him. His gaze bore into hers; rage burned within them.

Unflinching, Prince Pieter gave Silas a smug look. He pivoted and took Kela’s hand once more. “I’m afraid our visit has been cut short.” He let go of her hand with the greatest reluctance. “Until we met again, my lady.”

She watched him walk into a sea of Sordarin warriors, disappearing from her sight. A feeling surfaced within her that the man knew more about her than she did herself. The knowledge disturbed her.

“Kela, go with Cono,” Silas ordered. “I have to go report this breach to the king.”

Kela nodded absently still staring out to where the prince had stood.

Suddenly, Silas grabbed hold of her arm, pulling her close. He kept his voice low, but the fury in his tone could not be hidden. “You little fool. I have been good to you. Now, you have no one to blame for what is to come except yourself.”

 

Refusing to contemplate Silas’s ominous words, Kela walked beside this great warrior Cono, as he was called, through the city’s streets. For the first time, the eyes of Yucca were upon her. Though, she realized quickly that their attention was mostly upon Cono.

Even to her young eyes, Cono was ruggedly handsome. He seemed much older than Falco, for he walked with an air of confidence that only time seems to give, but, in all, Kela had learned there was two years that separated Cono’s and Falco’s ages.

Already, the winds carried tales of his bravery and courage. Yes, he was a magnificent warrior with his bulging muscles, broad chest, and the most telling of eyes.

When they walked by the people, she heard whisperings of the great warrior. Small boys stopped their play and watched in awe, mimicking wings with their arms in dreams of flying themselves. Young women looked with desire, old men remembered their youth.

Viewing the massive Great Hall, a sudden memory came to Kela of Turstan talking of Yucca. He had told her of the impenetrable fortress, the unyielding castle was built into the cliffs of the Toir Mountain. He had told her, “You need to see it first from the sky.”

Flanked by two large twin towers, the Great Hall reigned over the city. The austere stone walls rose toward the heavens. They walked alongside of the ashlar walls. She tilted her head back to stare up at the battlements.

“Come. You do not have time to delay.”

Startled for a moment by the command, Kela had almost forgotten she was being escorted back to her cell. She was lost in the wonder of the city, pondering if her father had walked the same street as she was at this moment.

She imagined kinsmen before her and longed to see their portraits hung up in the entrance of the Great Hall. Sareta had told her that the floor was made of whitest marble and golden damask coverings hung on the walls along with tapestries strung with scenes of great Sordarin battles. Outside, though, she stared at the stained glass windows of the hall portrayed Sordarin kings of the past.

“You do not listen well, little one.”

Glancing over her shoulder, she eyed Cono with a reflective gaze. His jaw set firm; his dark eyes held no humor. He was in no mood for banter, but she was in no mood to be hurried.

“Do not rush me.”

“It is my orders,” Cono said sharply.

Kela understood she needed to comply. She had no reason not to…except she had no desire to return to her cell. She feared the king would stop Sareta from seeing her. Her passive young sister would never go against their grandfather.

Kela, on the other hand, rebelled against her fate.

Halting, she stood defiantly and stared down the street with the thought of running. From the corner of her eye, she saw Cono reach for her.

A mistake!

Her frustration reacted. She flicked her hand. Immediately, his hand was propelled backwards. At first, she thought he was going to lunge at her, but he hesitated.

“Think before doing that again.” His eyes filled with disappointment. “Do you truly want to cause a scene? I am not against you, Kela, but I will return you to your chamber.”

His words struck the core of her being.

Kela wanted nothing more than to cry that she needed her family. Do not take them from me! Yet, he was not the cause of her unhappiness.

“My prison,” Kela corrected. Waving her hand toward the Black Tower, she relented to her fate. “Let us go then before I change my mind.”

Relief seemed to flood his face as he led her into the dark tower known as Torni. She was kept on the highest floor. Sareta’s magic had helped her enter and leave with ease, but she had no memories of entering in through these ominous doors.

Shadowy and dank, the entrance was filled with an awful stench. Two brawny guards greeted Cono, expecting to take Kela to her cell. Cono refused.

Without notice, he took her in his arms as if she weighed nothing and flew her upward through the middle loft opening to the top floor, away from the wails and cries of those below.

Waiting only until her warden unlocked the door, Cono led her back into her cell. Her soul deflated. Gone was the furnishings her sister had sent her, replaced with what had been. No candle. No table. No bed. Only straw in the far corner…only light from the tiny slit of a window.

Suddenly, she was scared for the door to shut.

Cono saw her fear.

Standing at the thick, wooden door, he said, “I wish none of this had happened to you, Kela. Pray, be patient. I’m certain everything will settle. You will learn, it is best not to infuriate the king. I will do what I can, but for your own sake, do nothing until I come again. Nothing!”

* * * *

Kela waited in the cold, dark cell, not truly understanding what she had done. She comprehended she was not supposed to reach out to Falco.

Now what was to happen to me?

Silas had said…warned her… that she was to finally meet with her grandfather.

Desperately, she tried to remember the etiquette Guilda had taught her. Keep your head bowed until he acknowledges your presence. Don’t speak until spoken to.   

So, she waited.

The silence in her cell was disquieting. Even her keepers were quiet.

Then it came.

A multitude of beating wings broke the still darkness. Loud commands issued announced the arrival of King Edulf. Pressing against the sweating stones, Kela shrunk into the corner with a sudden small and insignificant sensation overwhelming her.

The door squeaked opened, but the light blinded her. Covering her eyes with her arm, she tried to shield the brightness. Figures walked into the cell. Her eyes began to adjust. She watched a small man bring in a chair and a torch. He lit the black oil lanterns hung upon the wall.

Afterwards, the short man fell back to the wall. He said in a loud boisterous voice, “Filia Mithelk of Scarladin, soror ejus Falco of Scarladin, Kela Monicalia Flandigana Calledwdele, his Majesty, King Edulf.”

With those words, he walked out the door. Kela kept her eyes on the spot he had vacated, thinking that his announcement told more who she was than her adventure in the morning. Her rebellious thoughts vanished quickly, replaced with a growing apprehension.

King Edulf walked into the doorway. He bore himself in a proud manner, but his grave expression added to her worry. He was tall as she expected, but more muscular, appearing younger than she had imagined, even with his long, white hair and bushy eyebrows. For some reason, Kela had deemed him ancient and frail, but that was not the man before her.

The king seemed a man ageless in time. He had only a simple leather string tied around his forehead, letting his hair fall loose around his shoulders. His eyes were grey as a clear evening sky; his beard neatly trimmed.

His expression held not only in strength, but confidence. He had not dressed for a formal meeting, wearing only a simple white shirt with no sigil and tanned pants. Leather straps criss-crossed over his broad chest with his sword secure in his sheath.

If Kela had any expectations of a semblance of emotion from her grandfather at their meeting, she was to be disappointed. She studied him, as she was certain he was her, searching for a semblance of familiarity, but found nothing.

His eyes narrowed as he studied her. Immediately, Kela curtsied and bowed her head.

“Kela Calledwdele.” His voice carried with it his disdain. “My granddaughter…a Euchoun.”

“Yes, Your Grace,” she answered. “I have longed to meet with you.”

“Truly?” His eyebrows rose in doubt of the truth of her words. “I myself have found I needed time to deal with the fact that you are a Euchoun…and female. It is unprecedented.”

“It is who I am,” she said in earnest. “I have been told not to question.”

King Edulf grimaced at that. “By whom pray tell? When did you learn of your abilities?”

“I don’t remember,” she replied truthfully. “They have always been a part of me.”

“Did your parents know?”

It took a moment to understand his question. Staring wide-eyed at the king, Kela replied honestly, “I believe so. I remember well the night my parents died. I used them then. Mother was not taken by surprised. Rather, I believe she expected it.”

Anger flashed in his gray eyes. “There lies my state of perplexity. I knew of your existence, but nothing of your powers. The question becomes why would I not been told?”

He confused her. “I would not know, Your Grace.”

“I have thought of a hundred scenarios,” he said grimly. “I come back to only one conclusion. Your ability was hidden from me. But for what cause?”

As if lifeless, Kela stood speechless…momentarily. When she finally spoke, it was with her own anger. “Perhaps, my parents feared for me…that you would treat me as you have these last few months.”

“You dare question me!”

The air weighed heavy on her chest. She noticed King Edulf clutched the hilt of his sword tightly. Threatening me? She took only one step back, readying to protect herself.

“For once, you react as you should,” he said darkly. “Do not cower. Never show fear…that is what you need to be taught. You think I want to keep you here? You are my granddaughter… and you are locked away from prying eyes.”

“I need to be with my family, Your Grace.”

King Edulf frowned. “You are young, but you understand that one born into the House Calledwdele has responsibilities.”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

“This responsibility is compounded with you being a Euchoun. Your siblings’ fates are far easier. Falco is proving himself to be a true Calledwdele. He is his father’s son. The fair Sareta is a lovely addition to my court.”

“As is her magic.” The words blurted out, but words spoken cannot be taken back. 

“Magic that allowed you to live comfortably. It is all that has been asked of her.”

Shame surfaced within her that she had been selfish. She had been thinking only of herself, but she hadn’t known. All she had known was she had been kept apart from her family.

King Edulf walked around Kela, looking her up and down. “You are a wee little thing. I find it hard to believe the power attributed to you if not for your cousin seeing it first-hand…that and the fact that the Prince of Brixtone must have experienced it at one time. Am I wrong?”

Kela could do nothing more than nod her head.

He smiled a knowing smile. “I expected as much with the arrangement he tricked me into making.”

“I don’t understand,” she said in a small, thin voice.

“Nor should you,” he replied, stopping in front of her. He was not pleased. His mouth twisted downward. “What you should understand is the consequence of disobeying your king.”

A deadly silence ensued. As brave as Kela thought she was, her legs trembled. Drawing in a deep breath, she dropped to one knee. “Your Grace, I beg your forgiveness. It was only my deep need to see my brother.”

“A weakness,” he uttered sourly. “A Euchoun’s path is of sacrifice. Their one purpose is to protect. Do you not realize the responsibility given to you? The people believe that Euchouns are sent from our God to protect us.”

“I will not disappoint,” she vowed.

“Disappoint? What other outcome can there be?”  King Edulf said brusquely. “You are a weakling. A Euchoun needs a heart of steel. You have no discipline…look at you—you are trembling before me. What will you do when you face an Arachnidan? When a Euchoun goes into battle, there can be no hesitation. What can we expect from you once you experience a man split apart in front of you? War is bloody. Men die.”

“I did not freeze when your guards attacked my family,” Kela spoke boldly, rising back to her feet. “I protected my family. Turstan has taught me well. I will not falter in the face of danger.”

“But you hurt your own. You almost destroyed the whole of my Wings.”

“I did only what I had to do. I had no knowledge the Wings were friends. My instincts called to me as they did when the traitorous Lord Dyer attacked my mother…”

“Lord Dyer—a traitor?” King Edulf interrupted. His voice full of doubt. “What say you?” 

“Lord Dyer betrayed my father and mother. That I know to be true.”

For a long moment, King Edulf said nothing. He turned his back to her, and then, pivoted around. He shook his head, refusing to believe. “Lord Dyer was a faithful servant. What purpose would he have to betray me?”

“That I have no knowledge, but why would not have Falco and Turstan told you this?”

“Turstan said it was thought that Lord Dyer had turned the men. I would not let him continue to blacken the man’s name. Turstan saw nothing, neither did Falco.”

“But I did. The night is etched into my memory. I was there when Mother realized my father was dead. She saw it in a vision.”

“Vision? What did she see in this vision?” King Edulf demanded. He took a step forward and stopped directly in front of her. His eyes bored into her.

Kela felt fear stirring within her again. The king had no desire to hear the truth of the night. No desire to hear that one of his most trusted men had betrayed him, but the words needed to be said, needless of what might come next.

“She said she saw Father lying on a battlefield…that he was dead because of trusting his own. His Wings had been slaughtered. She saw the assailants were other Sordarins, but the one that killed Father stood in the shadows.”

For a moment, King Edulf looked off into the darkness. “Do you know what you are saying? That my son was killed by his own?”

“I have no doubt, neither does Falco or Turstan.” Kela held confidence in her brother and Turstan. Both would have repeated that they had been betrayed by Sordarins. “Who would you have thought killed Father…destroyed Nottesdone?”

King Edulf looked upon her, grave and stern. “Witheleghe. Since that fateful night, it has been my belief that your mother killed my son. I thought she took you back into her realm. Why else would I have made Renwick crowned prince?”

He gave her no time to answer. “I have known that Falco lived. The mark of our house has never appeared upon Renwick, but I never thought I would see Falco again. Withelegheans are deceitful creatures.”

On that, Kela lost her fear. She stated clearly, “My mother was not. She sacrificed herself so we would live. Both Witheleghe and Scarladin were betrayed. I know only that Asmeodai is behind the terror…that he has taken Witheleghe and seeks a portal to conquer the Siochanta Realm.”

“What do you know of such things? The ramblings of an old Witheleghean nurse who has raised you?”

Kela saw anger in his eyes, even hatred. Confusion warred within her. Her heart pierced under the king’s stare with the realization that her own blood held her in contempt.

“I speak only what I know is true. There was worry Cyaika, Asmeodai’s mate, had already crossed. I would not lie to you, Your Grace.”

King Edulf frowned down at her. “There is much for you to learn. I tremble at the thought if our fate relies upon Euchouns such as you, but I cannot ignore that you are a Euchoun, not with the threat that looms on the horizon. To dismiss the signs would be a fatal mistake. I do not make mistakes.”

Kela fought to keep the strength in her composure. There was no place for fear when facing her grandfather. Kela promised herself she would not falter.

“You cannot be trusted,” he stated. “Moreover, you need to train to become a true Euchoun.”

“I am to be separated from my siblings,” she said. Not as a question, but a fact. “Please, Your Grace, no.”

“You will be escorted to your new home in the morning. If you disobey again, I will not hesitate to denounce your siblings.”

King Edulf walked out the door. Before the door closed to my cell, Kela felt cold inside, devastated with understanding. For she was truly frightened, not for her safety, but of being ripped from her family.

CONO

 

 

Night had fallen. Cono still waited for his opportunity to talk with Kela. Despite the king’s command, for the last two months, Prince Falco had been consumed with seeing his sister. Time and time again the young prince had been denied his request.

Silas staunchly refused to help his cousin. Though he plead sympathy, Silas had no desire to incur the wrath of King Edulf, which seemed strange to Cono.

It made no sense the anger King Edulf held toward his granddaughter. Never before had he witnessed such power. He felt it when he touched the girl and had told as much to the king.

Cono had done his duty, telling the king in vivid detail of the night. Silas had concurred. The king seemed to have taken their word of the events. Yet, the girl was still imprisoned.

In his mind, he relived the fight; the attack, the fire, the girl demonstrating enormous powers to protect her family, and then, the discovery of Prince Axel’s body. There had only been one close to Axel—the Earl Marshal.

Without any training skirmish, Axel hid behind the commander with the pretense he was leading the expedition. Cono had never seen the prince during a real fight. The reason many hadn’t eyes on him during the clash.

To their discredit, neither had any noticed Prince Axel absence immediately after the conflict, consumed with the discovery of Prince Mithelk’s missing children.

Prince Mithelk had been much beloved, not only by the Wings, but by the people of Scarladin. His children returning, the two that had been acknowledged, to their people had been seen as a much needed good omen to all Sordarins.

When precisely Axel’s body had been found, Cono had no knowledge. He had already left.

There had been much that had gone wrong that night. He had never seen the Wings as disorganized as they had been after Kela exploded at them.

Feeling the need to act quickly for fear that the Brixtone had set a trap, Silas assigned Cono the honor of leading the small band back to Yucca. Excitement swirled within the Wings escorting the heir apparent, a Euchoun, and their youngest sister, whom he found out later was a magical Witheleghean. What had happened after he departed, he had no knowledge.

On his return, Silas had not confided in him, nor had he pressed Cono on the meaning of the symbol burned into his forearm. Mourning his brother, Silas sought solace by himself.

Cono silently confessed that he was relieved. He had no desire to discuss his own problems with Silas, whom now had chosen Cono to be his second. Honored by the position the Lord Silas had bestowed, his conscience gnawed at him.

So many secrets…

  You have been blessed with counsel that will not come again— a bright light cometh that will not be seen. Take heed that the light does not go out. For it gives to us courage when the darkness falls…

Crazy rantings of an insane old woman! Yet, Cono could not simply dismiss the words, not with the mark burned into his forearm.

He had seen the symbol before.

In his dreams.

Bothered so about the image he kept dreaming about, that shortly before he entered the Citadel, Cono had gone to a Lanka’s seer, Allersaka. One that his grandmother had gone to many times.

Allersaka refused to see him twice. Then on the third visit, she relented and gave him entrance.

The large bosomed woman with skin as dark as night had her hair covered with a golden turban. She was dressed in a native Lanka gown, symbolized with embroidery of her clan.

The seer sat a large circular table with the only lamp in the room. He attempted to sit, but she gestured for him to stand.

“You will not be here long, Cono Lothar,” she spat. “I do not see for half-bloods.”

“I am Lanka.”

“Half-blood, I know who you are,” she proclaimed. Her eyes didn’t leave him as she sucked on a pipe with water that cooled the smoke before she exhaled it into the room.

“I have dreams…dreams that won’t go away,” Cono said. The request cut to the quick of Cono’s soul. He had never asked for help, learning long ago to only depend on himself.

Through the smoke haze, Allersaka motioned for Cono to come closer. He saw a darkness in her eyes as she stared at him.

Suddenly, he wondered if he had made a mistake in coming.

“You are right to be worried, Cono Lothar,” the seer said. “I see… your dream…and your path. Three spinning swirls on three stout branches. Three it will be. Three Realms you will face. Three Realms to be fought. Three Realms to be conquered. Three Realms to be ruled.”

Cono shook his head. “You make no sense.”

“I say only what I see,” she said placidly. A sly smile formed on her face. “Beware and take care when your path diverges. Stay true, Half-Blood, or your fate will alter…devastating those around you.”

The seer said no more, refusing Cono further audience.

Her words haunted him as did the old woman’s— It is you that has been chosen. It is you that will answer if you falter.

The meeting of the Euchoun on the same day of the warning message was not lost on him. There was a pull to the waif that he could not deny. A pull he told no one about…

“Has the king seen my sister?”

Standing on the wall walk, Cono turned to face the young prince. Falco had grown in height since his arrival. His wings had spread broad and strong. Moreover, he had shown his personality was one to lead, exhibiting poise and focus as if he was born to rule…which he was.

But now he held anger in his eyes.

Behind him, Falco had brought his man, Turstan. An old warrior, the Sordarin had done well by the young prince, teaching the Sordarin ways of battle. Falco could swing a deadly sword. Shame that Turstan’s wing had been damaged beyond repair. It was not a fate a brave warrior deserved.

“He left her minutes ago,” Cono addressed Falco with a slight bow of his head. “Unfortunately with orders not to let anyone see your sister.”

“Devil be had! Tell me what has she done to warrant such treatment? Would not anyone yearn to see their family?” Falco demanded.

“Calm yourself, Falco,” Turstan said. “It does no good to react without thinking.”

The face of the proud young prince melted for a moment. A reminder of his age.

“I won’t allow her to stay in that hell hole any longer,” Falco vowed. “I will confront Grandfather.”

“That would be unwise.” Silas emerged from the Black Tower. His face grim. “Our grandfather has his reasons. Reasons that you should trust are in all our best interests.”

Caution, young prince, Cono thought about Falco. You know nothing of the deals made behind closed doors in court. Treachery has already befallen your father. Restraint would be advised.

Do you not know that I realize this? That I would be a fool not to recognize that Silas is Fenwick’s son. That if I was not here, his father would still be crown prince…heir to the Sordarin throne?

Startled, Cono’s head snapped toward Falco, who stood with a sly smile on his face.

Fear not, brave Cono. I cannot read your mind. Only when you talk to me.

How can that be?

I’m not privy to the details of the magic within me. I can only guess that in some way when Sareta blocked my ability to Kela, it rebounded to you.

Me? Why?

Can you not guess?

Cono stared at Falco, only reluctantly admitting he could. He still felt the power surging through him when he touch the Euchoun.

Glancing over his shoulder, he found Silas’s eyes upon him. The looks exchanged between Falco and himself had not been lost on Silas.

“Life as a royal is never easy, cousin,” Silas said to Falco. “Everything has changed since your return. Tread softly.”

“Your advice is greatly appreciated, Silas.” Falco nodded. “You are quite right that I know nothing of being a prince. I have not been recognized for most of my life. Yet, I have been with my sisters since their birth. I know them well.”

“I did not say you did not.” Silas frowned. “I say this only to help you for I know King Edulf.”

Cono was surprised by the edge to Falco’s voice, but no more so than Silas. Silas, who for years had controlled his brother to do his bidding, had found that Falco was not to be easily controlled.

“I have talked with Sareta, who expressed to me her distress on being kept from our sister. She needs Kela’s strength. She feels, also, the need of Kela. It calls to me, as well. We can’t ignore it.”

“Aye,” Turstan agreed. “All that’s in heavin! There is no call for Kela to be treated in such a manner! For what reason? King Edulf does not realize the pull the children have.”

“We are children no more, Turstan,” Falco said with a smile aimed at the man, whom had overseen his care. “I agree with Sareta. The three of us cannot be separated.”

Looking strangely at the large, burly Sordarin, Cono noticed Turstan’s wing twitched. Impossible for his wing had been crippled for years. Turstan had told Cono himself that his wing hadn’t any feeling in it since it was damaged.

There was no other movement. Cono quickly dismissed it. Instead, his attention turned to Silas.

Cono could not read Silas. The young commander had already mastered the skill of masking his emotions. Though his hands were intertwined close to his chest, telling his effort of trying to maintain his temper.

“I tell you, my cousin, that King Edulf is planning a Soaring to celebrate your return,” Silas said in a deep rasp. “Do not extend yourself to earn the ire of the king. On my word, it is for the best.”

“Why?” Cono asked. Immediately, he regretted interfering in the conversation. However once spoken, he had no choice, but to continue. “I know your word to be true. You have knowledge on why the girl is where she is.”

Falco’s eyes fell upon his cousin. “Tell me, Silas. Do not withhold the news.”

Silas considered Falco thoughtfully. “I will tell you only for you to understand there is not another way.”

“I give you my word that I will not reveal the knowledge unless my sister’s life is in danger,” Falco replied.

A long silence ensued. The winds turned brisk, cooling the night’s air. Clouds began to cover the star-filled sky. Finally, Silas said, “Euchouns are sacred beings to Sordarins. In that, there is no denying.”

“By the Great One’s decree,” Falco said in earnest. Then, his expression changed. “King Edulf is protecting Kela?”

Silas nodded. “It is a matter of the utmost delicacy. The deceitful Prince of Brixtone tricked His Majesty. When he came to King Edulf with the information of the three of you, he asked for only one thing, the hand of your sister. Kela by name. He proclaimed the union would make peace between our countries. At the time, the arrangement was deemed acceptable. King Edulf had no knowledge…or even considered the possibility that your sister was a Euchoun.”

“Now, he can’t hold to the arrangement,” Falco nodded in understanding.

“We had fended your sister ill to Prince Pieter. In truth, Kela was well looked after, allowed to see your sister at will. She had her freedom until this morning,” Silas said solemnly. “All she was asked was not to reach out to you for it was feared, rightly so, that Prince Pieter would manage to see Kela himself. She disobeyed…and it has cost her…has cost us.”

Cono had feared as much…that the Brixtone prince had his hand in this. Prince de Flour must have suspected the hoax. In turn, he had waited for an opportunity. Now, the prince would press for the king to uphold their agreement.

The defiant girl had no idea what she had done.

Anger raged inside of him followed by a strong urge to protect her. She was nothing more than a child. Petite, her long, dark hair fell down her back. Her face was all eyes, but they flamed with strength and courage.

An overwhelming sense of misery swept through him…a desperate desire… So strong, it hurt.

Cono closed his eyes. When he opened them, Kela stood before him.

KELA

 

 

“Kela? What in all blue heavins has happened?”

A moment before, Kela was huddled in the corner of her prison cell, cold and dark, seething in anger against the king. She swore he was no more her grandfather for he had shown her only contempt and kept her from her family.

Heartbroken, King Edulf’s final words to her resonated deep within her. He had threatened to denounce her siblings. She held no doubt he would keep his word.

There lay her sadness, a deep melancholy that had overcome her. Then…then she found herself on Black Tower’s wall walk.

Kela looked up into Cono’s intense dark eyes which seemed to question her appearance. Yet, no more than she. 

Behind Cono, she caught site of her brother and Turstan. Immediately, she ducked around the warrior, ready to run into their arms, but her joy was short-lived. Silas stood in her way.

“Halt,” Silas demanded. “What magic is this?”

“Sareta’s?” Kela guessed. “I have no answer. Perhaps, she…”

“No, she would not have.”

Silas spoke the words with a clear understanding of her sister’s passive nature. Her acceptance was Kela’s rebellion. Neither answered his question.

“Something’s not right,” Silas said. He shot a look over at Cono. “A Euchoun appearance such as this does not happen without rea…”

A strong hand grasped her shoulder. A sudden sensation gripped Kela as if she was being pulled through a vacuum. Her vision blurred. Thrust forward, she fell upon a hard stone floor.

Kela had no time to contemplate any injury. She had been propelled to a foreign place. Slowly, she stood and looked around in disbelief. 

It was hot, almost suffocating.

She was in a large bedroom chamber. Someone slept in a huge feathered bed that sat quietly in the corner, while a fire blazed in the hearth. Rich, velvet curtains closed over the mammoth doors to a balcony. A desk was situated to the far end of the opposite side with two Sordarin chairs in front.

Moonlight silvered the floor encompassed by a growing fog. She saw movement within, a dark figure slinking through the haze. No more than a shadow, the monster was tall, gaunt and hard as old bones. His attention focused on the Sordarin sleeping in front of him. A Sordarin it was. In a deep sleep, she supposed for his wings were tucked in a resting position. He did not stir.

The creature slid forward into the light. Kela froze at the sight, like nothing she had ever seen before. The beast had armor as black as night, his muscles bulged in his arms and legs, an elongated neck with a tail that curled over his back exhibiting a deadly stinger at the tip.

To her horror, it had a man’s face, but nothing else suggested he was human. Most of his head was encased in the hardened armor that covered his body. Its eyes protruded from its socket, glossed over with a white sheen. Its darkened mouth drooled; its hands were as claws.

The haze faded. The creature seemed to come alive in the moonlight. Snapping its claws, it slung its long neck around.

It saw her.

“Behind me! It’s an Arachnidan!”

Stunned, she felt a strong hand shove her back. Falling to her knees, she saw Cono. He had come with her through the winded portal.

The Arachnidan seemed to revel at seeing them. Its armored head reared back, the drooling mouth expelled a heinous wail, a high piercing cry.

Cono drew out his sword from his sheath. Lifting it high over his head, he readied for battle. The creature opened his mouth to reveal two fangs pinching together, over and over again.

Bravely, Cono met the creature.

For a heartbeat, time stood still. No one moved.

With its claw, the Arachnidan swung its claw back and flung Cono off his feet against the wall. Cono laid on the floor motionless. Another cry emerged from the creature, who stared at Cono briefly before turning toward Kela.

Terror reigned. Her legs trembled. She wanted nothing more than to run away, but there was nowhere to run. She stood frozen.

The Arachnidan buckled amidst a fluttering of wings. Cono had leaped on the creature’s back, swinging his sword. With a fury, the creature fought back, snapping his claws wildly. Cono fell to the floor again. This time, it focused on Cono.

Fangs outstretched, it attacked.

Kela’s instincts responded. Fear was still within her, but fear for Cono was greater. She threw her hands out. The blast hit the creature, throwing it backwards.

It emitted a shrill, stinging howl.

Cono was freed…momentarily.

He rolled and bounded up to her side. He shouted, “Run, little one! Run!”

Her fear was deep. Yet, her instincts were stronger. She refused to move.

With his arm, he pushed her behind him. The touch sent a sensation through her, one that she had felt before when he laid his hand upon her.

The creature came snarling up, spitting a vile red gob.

Kela exploded, sending a magma blast at it. Cono needed no urging. He charged the monster. Her hand discharged another blast. This time, the creature was driven back against the stone wall, spitting wildly.

Her arms ached, but she did not relent, shielding Cono as he ran with his sword in hand. He plunged his blade straight into the creature’s underbelly. It screamed in pain, a high pitch shriek, fading into a moan of a dying soul. Its stomach gushed with a dark and slimy ooze, seeping out to the stone floor.

The Arachnidan stumbled forth, and fell dead.

Kela straightened herself and breathed out deep. In front of her, the horrendous creature began to transform back into a man, a naked man with a cold, dead look of disbelief etched into his face.

“Halstead!”

Kela turned to face King Edulf, the sleeping figure on the bed. The King held a sword by his side.

Cono felled to his knees and bowed his head. “Your Grace.”

The brave warrior had scratches on his arms, legs and chest. Thankfully, Kela thought, no deep wounds.

The door swung opened. The King’s Wings bounded inside, dispensing around the room.

“The villain is dead,” King Edulf said. “Secure the palace.” He turned to Cono. “Rise. Tell to me how you arrived.”

All eyes turned upon Kela.

King Edulf frowned. To her dismay, she began to tremble uncontrollably. Her legs crumbled beneath her. Cono caught her before she hit the hard floor. Yet, she felt herself spinning.

In the distance, she heard King Edulf ask, “Can you stop her insufferable trembling?”

Kela heard nothing else, swallowed once more into blackness.

Silas

 

 

Silas flew onto the balcony and entered the chamber. At first, he was uncertain whether he had the right room. It seemed empty, but he continued walking through the front to the back door in the far corner. He opened the door and found who he sought.

King Edulf stood over by the window. His head turned on Silas’s entrance. “You have done as I have requested?”

“Twiten has been summoned,” Silas answered. “With the utmost secrecy, I assure you.”

“That is good. We do not have long to act.” King Edulf walked over to the bed, staring down at the young girl. “By Gad! I have no understanding of the Great One! I cannot believe that it is she!”

“You yourself saw her defeat a Sawamdai alongside Cono.” Silas’s voice was grave. “Few have ever accomplished such a task.”

“There is no more denying her power. She shielded Cono from the deadly venom of the Sawamdai, yet, allowed him to thrust his sword into the creature.”

“Do you think she has bonded with Cono?”

“Cono has the makings of a great Sordarin warrior.” King Edulf frowned, his face darkening. “But she is young…too young to bond. She has spoken consistently of a need to be near Falco. But talk with Cono. Find out what he feels when he fights beside the girl. It would be best if she bonded with a Calledwdele.”

A silence ensued.

Silas had long been a student of history and had studied Euchouns of the past extensively. He held doubts that even the great King Edulf could come between a Euchoun and her bonded warrior, if indeed Cono was bonded to the girl, but he understood the king’s worry.

In secret, Silas had gone to the Elders with the knowledge of the mysterious sign burnt into Cono’s arm by an old hag. The Elders had simply dismissed it. In their wisdom, the Elders judged that the tattoo wasn’t a true sign, but merely an attempt by the Fledgling to give himself a semblance of importance.

Despite the Elders response, Silas knew Cono would have never tried such a deception. Even now, Cono wore a band over the sign.

But was Cono chosen? If so, the question became for what. To bond with Kela?

Or was it more?

Is that what Grandfather is worried about? Is he worried that no matter the vow a Sordarin King’s wing takes, could Cono present a threat to the crown if he bonds with Kela?

Silas held faith with the Great One.

The scriptures stated clearly the Great One would send a powerful Euchoun to protect Scarladin if the need arose. House Calledwdele was Scarladin.

King Edulf had served his people well. In turn, it was Silas’s belief that Cono would be part of the protection if he was indeed bonded with Kela…and she was the prophesied Euchoun.

At the moment, though, the Euchoun bonding was the least of the issues that King Edulf faced.

“There is dark magic in Yucca,” King Edulf said. “Never have I felt so helpless. I lay in my bed able to see everything around me, but I could not move until the Swamdami was dead.”

“There is much to interpret, much to plan, Grandfather.” Silas agreed. His anger at Halstead fueled him. “My blood boils knowing it was Halstead that killed Axel. The deception runs deep.”

“That creature was not Halstead.” King Edulf shook his head. “I have known the man since his birth. No…it was dark magic. We need to determine when his actions became suspicious. Then, perhaps, we can decipher what happened to the man.”

Silas could feel apprehension stirring within him once more. What the king was suggesting was impossible…for an Arachnidan to become a trusted Sordarin?

“Inconceivable,” Silas said, his voice thick with doubt. “Though it is known that Arachnidans can morph into their true nature, there has never been an account that Arachnidans can become another.”

“Yet, it has happened.” King Edulf stroked his beard in deep thought. He stared down at Kela. “The girl spoke not only of betrayal of her father, but the fall of Nottesdone. She said that Witheleghe had fallen into the hands of Asmeodai…that his mate, Cyaika had already crossed before the portal had closed.”

“Dark magic in Scarladin,” Silas said in a careful tone. “If that was true, we could not trust any. How can that be? We would already be overrun.”

“Do not be so quick to dismiss the thought,” King Edulf warned. “Say the Arachnidan killed Halstead and took his human form, it would be of great concern.”

“It is the reason you wanted to confer with Betrand?”

Twiten, the last of the Overseers, came from the land long lost of Narteria. Overseers were bound to no realm, one of the reasons that their race had dwindled from the known earth.

“There is much to discuss.” King Edulf paused, considering his words. “Time is perilously short.”

King Edulf’s words resonated within Silas. He had known his grandfather had a mission for him. “What would you have me do?”

Silas followed his grandfather’s gaze down to Kela. She looked like a sleeping angel. Her dark hair fell around her shoulders. She slept still, so peaceful.

“Empathy is finished.” The king looked staunchly resolute. “I require your help to do what is necessary for the safety of our realm.” 

WITHELEGE

 

Alric

 

 

For three thousand years, the Ancient Witheleghe had been a realm of beauty and peace, lush with greenery and life of every sort. The elves and fairies of the old-north lands lived beyond the Salt Sea lived in the safe sanctuary of the Charmed Woods. To the west, the dwarfs flourished in the Maunga Mountains, existing happily amongst the glorious dragons, unicorns, and mermaids in the Puru Lake.

Troms, the capital, was a harbor city, situated on Meera Bay. Surrounded by the Blue Mountains, the grand city profited greatly from the fertile Kambera Valley. Food and water were plentiful and were shared within their boundaries. 

The land shone with a beacon light, proclaiming a message of tolerance and amity. Its fortune was the envy of all who was not them. Envy and greed loomed among their neighbors, fostering into a hatred for the peace loving Withelegheans, especially by Arachnida, whose realm was filled with Silurian rock with igneous dikes and volcanic necks—a land of waste

The years had not been filled without its wars, but Withelegheans found themselves an unobtrusive, passive race. Withelegheans had become expert diplomats, negotiating peace or another to fight for them. When all failed to protect their tranquility, Witheleghe used its magic to hide the realm from the eyes of others.

Yet, the light that had shone so brightly, darkened, allowing deadly sins to take root.

Years of the darkness had sucked the life out of the once promised land. Whatever Witheleghe had been was long forgotten.

Eight long years…a lifetime…ago.

Alric from House Sexton huddled in the rubble of what once had been the Tower of the King. Crumbled stones formed crevasses large enough to crawl through to the street. Gone was the residence of the royal family. The gilt and color of the staterooms destroyed when the fury of Asmeodai had descended on the unprepared city.

When Asmeodai broke through the magical barrier, he brought his dragons from the Tharon Desert. Quickly, the inherently aggressive dragons dispensed with the less vicious Witheleghean dragons. Then, the fire-breathing beasts unleashed their ferocity upon Troms. The city was left in ruins.

Unable to control the dragons after the destruction, Asmeodai had poisoned all of his herd, killing the irrepressible creatures. The devil left their bodies where they died. For years, the rot and stench filled the rubble of Troms.

The city was now infested with disease and death. The bright blue sky was replaced with an endless gray cover. Rains came every day, leaving the city dark and dank.

The inhabitants that remained lived in filth and poverty, surviving mainly upon rain water and the rodents. There was no grain from the Kambera Valley and the wells ran low. Even now, Alric watched as the gray cloud cover dripped rain. The streets began to fill with rag-worn peasants, tilting their heads backwards to catch the raindrops in their mouths.

Each month he came, there seemed to be fewer and fewer. The sight gnawed at his soul. He could not save them all. Even now, there were too many souls at Tuhinga o Mua, the Serenity of Suffering.

In the beginning, he had come every day to search for survivors…to search for his family and gather them under his cloak. He had saved many, not as many as he wanted. He had learned caution, a bitter lesson to have been taught.

Immediately after the massacre, there had been more like him willing to risk their lives to save others. Laird had been one of them. Laird had been older, more seasoned than Alric. He was a knight for King Darius, surviving only because he had been on a king’s mission to Narvik at the time of the attack.

There had been a rush to save all that they could. A mistake, for Asmeodai had sent spies to discover the resistance. Dirk from the House Dullam had been one such mole. House Dullam had been an ancient house, aligned with House Calledwdele for centuries.

Alric well imagined Dirk had been blackmailed to deceive those who trusted him.

It was Asmeodai’s way.

A worthless promise that House Dullam would be safe from a horrid death.

Laird had rescued Dirk along with twelves survivors. At which point, Dirk turned traitor. He pounced on Laird and captured him along with the others. The mole signaled for Asmeodai’s guards, which immediately took them all prisoners.

Asmeodai’s vengeance had been swift.

The call went out by Asmeodai’s Night Raiders. Asmeodai’s most terrifying soldiers rode through the four corners of Troms announcing the public execution.

Though advised not to go, Alric cloaked himself with his magic. He walked through the abandoned streets, over the crumbled stone of the city’s dwellings, and passed into the blackened debris before the drawn draw bridge of Kororia Castle.

An eerie dark haze filled that morning air. Smoke from a scorching fire. Stench of burning flesh. Cries of the hopeless. All were on fire when Alric arrived. Each men, women and child had been tied to a stake with the Night Raiders standing guard.

Heat rose around the condemned. Alric caught sight of Laird through blurred eyes.

Laird was not alone. Dirk and his family…his mother and sister…burnt alongside of him. Through his tears, Alric heard the Night Raiders utter words of Dirk’s fate—Dirk had not brought back all the resistance. He had not kept his end of the bargain set with Asmeodai. Thus, Dirk’s fate.

Alric cried for all the victims. Knowing it was a useless gesture, his anger got the better of him. He could not sit by and do nothing. He raised his arm to release the cloak…

She came then…beside him. With a wave of her hand, she uttered words, releasing their souls from their earthly bodies. A wave of her hand, she brought Alric back to what now was Tuhinga o Mua.

“What have you done?” Alric demanded. “They are dead…all dead.”

“I ended their suffering,” she said evenly. “And saved you from a foolish act that would have only added you to the dead.”

“To what end? Are we not only the living dead?” Alric asked miserably. “I have tried to be brave and save those who have survived the first onslaught. I have failed.”

“Not yet,” she said. “My name is Sae. I have come to share in your burden.”

Alric studied the woman. She was not what he first thought. He had never seen one before, but he was certain she was an elfin. She wore a scarf around her head so he could not tell the color of her hair, yet, underneath her veil, she had pointed ears. Her eyes sparkled like the stars in the sky.

“Why would you do so?”

“The Charmed Woods have been overrun by Arachnidans,” she spoke slowly. “Many of my own have died. I was chosen from all that was left to travel to the source of our misery. Asmeodai must be defeated or we are all doomed. I left my husband…my children to do so. We must not falter.”

“What good can we do? You saw the fate of those that resisted,” Alric said with a growing distrust.

“Resist we must,” she said. “Until the time the stars brighten in the cloudless sky. Until the cold breathe of the winds blow life into the earth once more. Until the light comes home. We will be prepared and be readied to fight for what is ours.”

“Riddles?” he questioned. “You give me riddles.”

“You know it is not riddles, but hope. Elohim…”

“Elohim has abandoned us,” Alric declared. “We have no God.”

“Quiet,” Sae commanded. “Elohim has not betrayed our people of Witheleghe, but it was us who betrayed our God. We were the ones to abandon our beliefs and worshiped false Gods. Greed and hatred burned in our hearts, allowing Asmeodai to overcome us.”

Her words silenced Alric. In his youth, he had had a deep and abiding faith in Elohim, but his faith had been untried. All before him was good. Rolling green hills, winding streams, wild life in abundance. He had grown up happy and content.

Arch of Garten was situated at the basin of Kambera Valley. Alric had grown up the third son of a minor house, whose magic was considered insignificant. Who had a need for the ability to cloak in a land of peace? Yet, Garten vassals lived without need.

Alric had three brothers. Each had the look of a Sexton. Not overly tall, most of the men stood under six feet. Alric was the same along with the Sexton deep blue eyes and wavy bronze hair. Alric had always been a better rider and swordsman than either of his older brothers, which served him well with his desire to become a knight.

Cinead, the eldest, was heir to his father. Arch of Garten would be his inheritance. Diarmid had chosen to become a priest, serving at the Temple of Elohim in Troms. Ewan, his younger brother, had only been five when Alric left to become a squire for Prince Halmir…the last time Alric had seen any of his family.

When the attack came, Alric’s duty held to Prince Halmir and his house. He had done as he was ordered, staying back at Vana Garden to warn Princess Eufamia. Asmeodai had come…though through Alric’s action, the portal had been closed.

Asmeodai could not extend his terror to the Siochanta Realm...but it also closed any help that could have come from the Siochanta Realm and Princess Eufamia.

Alric had to face the devastation of Asmeodai’s wrath. It was then he had discovered the magic held within him—his family’s magic. His ability to cloak from his enemies, even from the powerful Asmeodai.

The ability came with a price, one that cut him deep—the realization that his family was dead. The magic would not have been his, otherwise. Magic was embedded into the house it was given.

Comprehension sank deep within him as he watched the Night Raiders descended upon Vana Gardens. He was the head of House Sexton. His only hope for his family was that Ewan had survived, but even that hope had faded as was any hope he held within him.

“I’m not going to argue with you, Elfin. I’m not in the mood.” Alric swung his arm around the dark cave she had brought him. “Tell me, does your faith tell you how we are to survive?”

“Yes,” she said straightway, muttering in elfish. I dúr becomes galad.

The dark became light. They stood in the middle of a grand cave. Two enormous natural windows with a small river running through it. She took his hand and walked him into the shelter.

The cavern divided. On one side, the river ran deep into the massive cavern, forming minute lakes. There were even small waterfalls. The other side was warm and dry, and had several chambers. In the middle was a huge, majestic cavern known as the Altar of Divinity.

Alric recognized the cave, Wahi Tapu. He had traveled once with his father and Diarmid to pay homage to Elohim. In ancient times, the cave served as a temple, where pilgrims came to pay homage to Elohim, but no more.

The trail to Wahi Tapu had been overgrown and hidden. The cave lay on the far side of the Blue Mountains. Few had gone to what once had been the origin of their people.

“This is where we will seek sanctuary,” Sae said. “It will now be known as Tuhinga o Mua. So no one can reveal where it lies if they are caught.”

Alric shook his head. “You are mad. Even if your magic can replenish this ground, Asmeodai will sense your magic.”

Sae smiled. “That is where you are needed, Alric of House Sexton. You thought the magic your house held was irrelevant. Your father cautioned you that the magic could be used for evil. Now, look and understand. The survival of your people depends upon you.”

She walked out of the cave to a desolate land. Dead logs lay where once had been a thick forest. Wind blew the dry soil over the barren land. The elf knelt down. With closed eyes, she drew in a deep breath. Laying her hands on the ground, she said, “Sui ha was, ha na-.”

The ground shook. Around her feet, the brown earth turned to green. The clouds scattered, allowing the bright sun to emerge. Trees rose from seeds. To his right, fields thrived with long, green stalks of corn growing alongside brown sheaves of wheat. To his left, pastureland was fenced in with the emergence of sheep and cows.

“Now, Alric of House Sexton, cloak what you see.” Sae stood, pointing out over the scene. “Say what is in your heart. Cloak the Eye of Asmeodai.”

His heart moved in amazement. He made no protest. Widening his arms in front of himself, he spoke the words loudly. Tiakina te hunga i roto i tenei whare tapu. Kaua e whakaaturia to maatau.

Magic surged flowing through him. Stronger and stronger. Suddenly, he collapsed.

Sae helped him to his feet. It was done. A sanctuary for the survivors.

Once more magic…good magic could live.

* * * *

Over eight years had passed since that day. The cloak had remained secure, though Sae’s magic had waned. An elf’s magic came from nature, the sun, earth, and water. Sae had been blocked from that which her she drew her strength.

Alric worried.

The Woodland Elf had become his confidante. He trusted no one like he did Sae and her wise counsel. She had a second sense when it came to understanding men. One that he did not possess.

For the last few months, Sae tired easily and grew pale, even paler than when she had been healthy. Alric had more concerns than losing her counsel.

He did not possess magic to transport. If Sae’s condition worsened, his trips to Troms would end. The greatest worry, though, was the loss of Tuhinga o Mua. Alric feared the life of the earth that sustained their existence would end.

He had returned from his last trip to Troms…a day late. Sae had not recalled him at the appointed time. Uneasy, he rushed to find her.

Sae sat on a rock in front of the largest waterfall. He was not surprised that a group of young children sat around her. She told the stories of old, the teachings of Witheleghe. The children sat enthralled by her words.

“It was in the early days, more than three thousand years ago when the earth had been warring for over five hundred years. Finally, the chaos had been silenced,” Sae said. “Three warriors sat around a fire after the Reckoning. Three of the mightiest of warriors.

“The first said if he was granted, he would choose to rule by the lands to provide order and peace. The second said if he was granted, he would rule by the skies to ensure peace. The third said if he was granted, he would rule with understanding.

“The One heard their prayers and granted them. He gave to the first, the great plains of the east, filled with creatures of every sort. Bears, elephants, tigers and lions. It was known as Arachnida. Great powerful rivers flowed through the lands, but the first warrior lost sight of his promise. He drained his lands of all it had, turning them into barren waste lands. He was left with only the ants and spiders on the ground, scorpions under the rocks and flies in the air. He was known as Asmeodai. He turned his people into Arachnidans and set his sights upon the other blessed realms.

“For the second warrior, the One gave the skies. Sordarin, they were called for the males were given the ability to fly like a hawk. From that day, Sordarins have ruled the skies. Given the Siochanta Realm to rule, Falco, the first of his name, King of Scarladin, leader of House Calledwdele, encountered many problems with the vast lands. In the end, he determined that those that weren’t Sordarins, were to be ruled separately. He allowed the formation of régimes for those lands. While Sordarins are renowned for their aggression and strength, they have chosen to rule only themselves. Rewarded for his act, the One made a promise to send a Euchoun if Sordarins were ever threatened.

“The third, most humble warrior, Dyrdahl Flandigana, asked only to give back to his lands. The One smiled upon him and blessed him with Witheleghe, a land filled with magic. Magical creatures found a home, protected from those who coveted their magic. Elves, dwarfs, dragons and fairies lived within the Charmed Woods and Maunga Mountains. For the humans, one magic ability was given to each house, but with it came great responsibility. Each house was to care for their estates and vassals. House Flandigana was blessed with the most powerful and dominant magic.

“There lay the beginning of the Three Realms.”

Walking to her side, Alric smiled. He had heard the story many times over the years. Sae wanted the young ones to know the teachings of their past.

“Sae,” Alric said, motioning for to her leave with him. “We need to talk.”

She nodded weakly. “But of course.”

“She needs to rest.”

“Phiala, I heartily agree on that point.” Alric glanced down at the dwarf. Phiala stood just under three feet. She was a lady, dressed in an elegant snow-white gown. She wore a chain of silver and diamonds, a gift from her husband, Nevan. He whispered to her, “I had to hide in Troms an extra day. She could not bring me home.”

Phiala frowned. “It is what I feared. She is fading.”

“We cannot allow that. Tell me what we must do,” Alric demanded.

The dwarf reached up and squeezed his hand. “Let me see her to her home. Then we will talk.”

* * * *

Alric stood in the threshold, blinking. He was in the village tavern, Gypsumbasher. Over the years, a town had evolved within the cave. Sae had done well. If not for the sorrow most of the inhabitants carried with them, the hamlet would have been a happy place.

The children played around the small lakes. Laughter and chatter filled the air. In the beginning, the adults worked only in the fields. Soon, though, the village grew. A baker’s shop. A market. A seamstress. A blacksmith. There had even been a militia formed in case, Heaven forbid, Asmeodai discovered their refuge. 

Homes spread deep within the cavern. Sae had ensured everyone had a safe haven. She cared not for who they were. There were those that came from noble families, vassals, dwarfs, and elves. Tuhinga o Mua welcomed all from the wrath of Asmeodai.

The room was wide with a high dome ceiling. Beautiful stalactites hung down. Lamps had been attached to give light to what would have been darkness. On the tables of dark wood, candles burned brightly. At the far side of the room, Alric spotted Phiala with her husband, Nevan, who ran the tavern, sitting at a table with two empty chairs. They were waiting for him.

“Sit, Ser Alric,” Nevan said, bowing his head.

Alric smiled to himself. Here in Tuhinga o Mua there were no titles, but the dwarf insisted upon holding to the old order. The old dwarf had been a miner before what was now known as the Dawn of the End.

For generations, Nevan’s family had been miners of diamonds and emeralds. He had brought his third wife, Phiala, to Troms on his yearly venture to sell his wares to the richest of Witheleghe when the attack began.

Alric had found the couple almost six months after the walls fell.

Dwarfs, Nevan had said, have a natural instinct to survive. The inventive dwarf had dug underneath the rubble. Unfortunately, their water and food ran out. They had no choice but to emerge.

When Alric found the pair, Asmeodai’s Night Raiders had been on their trail. He barely had time to cloak the two when the Night Raiders raced down the darkened street. Alric had taken a huge chance for neither of dwarfs knew his purpose.

Nevan bragged later that his sixth sense told him to trust the stranger at a time when trusting anyone could be deadly. But Alric jested that the decision wasn’t so hard, easier to trust a stranger than the Night Raiders.

“Dear friends,” Alric addressed the couple. Pulling the chair back, he sat. “I will not mince words. I hold a great worry about Sae’s health.”

“As do we,” Phiala replied. “When I walked Sae back to her cottage, she recognized the state she is in. She needed to return to the Charmed Woods to recover…if she can. She has left.”

Alric scowled. Those were not the words he wanted to hear. What was to become of Tuhinga o Mua?

From the corner of his eye, he caught sight of a woman coming towards them. She was most beautiful.

She walked with a slender grace, which called attention to her breathtaking beauty. Her long, white hair rippled down her shoulders, falling freely to her thighs. On top of her head, she wore a crown of living flowers. Her gown was made of a sheer, light green overlaying white silk.

“But Sae has not left us alone,” Phiala continued. “She called forth another to help us.” She swung her hand out to present the lady. “Ser Alric, this is Bae, Sae’s sister.”

Bae smiled at Alric. The blue in her eyes twinkled.

Mesmerized, Alric could only stare. The first time in his life, he was at a loss for words.

 

Alric lay upon the hill overlooking Tuhinga o Mua. He thought for a great time until he noticed the darkness giving way to a faint light. The view was quite disquieting.

The village still looked peaceful and serene, green and flourishing. Yet, the last wheat crop had failed. Never had that had happened since the formation of the settlement.

A bad omen.

The world around him was collapsing. He felt it. There was nothing he could do. They all were trapped. How long can we hold out in this sanctuary before Asmeodai finds us now?

“Do not lose heart, Ser Alric.”

He had not heard her approach, forgetting that elves can walk without sound or footfall. Turning, he faced the lovely Bae.

Over the last week, he had reprimanded himself greatly for his embarrassing response at their introduction. Yet, he found himself again at a loss of words. I am not a foolish youngling.

She proved otherwise. She smiled.

Reaching out, she took his hand in hers.

He withdrew it. “My lady, I think not.”

“Come, Ser Alric,” Bae said. “We do not have time for the game men play. You feel it. As do I.”

“Don’t press me, my lady.” Alric took a step back. “There is no time for an affair of the heart.”

“Time is endless to a heart,” she whispered. “But I will forestall what is inevitable. There is a need that cannot wait.”

He looked at her. Bae was nothing like her sister. Sae had been serious and reserved. This elfin was light and airy as if she hadn’t a worry in the world. Granted, the ground beneath her bare feet grew green at her touch.

She glanced behind him. “Your worry should not be for the crops. Another will not fail…at least for the time being.”

“Tell me, what then should it be?”

“Through my sister, I have known you,” Bae said. “I know you to have courage, Ser Alric. Courage it will take for what lies ahead.”

“How would you know what your sister thought of me?” Alric asked, giving little credence to her words.

She smiled once more. “Upon Sae’s return, her thoughts and mine were one.”

“Then you would know how dire our circumstances are?”

Lowering her gaze, she nodded. “I have seen.”

“And you came.”

“Yes,” she answered. “You intrigued me, Ser Alric, but I came because my sister asked.”

“Sae is a good person. I’m sure your older sister will be…”

“Older? Than I?” she laughed. “But you are wrong. It is I that is older than she.”

“But…”

“There is much you do not know of us elves,” she said. Walking in front of him, Bae stared over Tuhinga o Mua. “It is not necessary for you to, only that you are correct. Sae is good, much more so than I.”

“Tell me what I do need to know,” he demanded. “I’m tired of not knowing what I face.”

Nodding, she turned back to him. “You are right. It is time.”

She reached out and touched him.

* * * *

Alric had become use to transporting, but he was not prepared for the destination. Bae had taken him to a place he had never been.

The two stood in the middle of a dead forest. As far as he could see, there was no animal life, no living tree, and no water.

Entwining her hand in his, they began to walk over the dried, brittle woodland. Gradually, the landscape altered. On the shoulder of a hill-top, Alric felt a whisper of air. Beneath him, the ground became soft…then a meadow of green grass. In the distance, he heard strange cries of birds.

As they journeyed, small seedlings sprouted within the dead trees. Above them, a moving shadow hid the sun. Yet, the forest turned alive at next hilltop. Tall, broad trees with limbs of great magnitude was covered in green leaves.

They came to where the ground widened and flattened. Before them was a large lake. Around the water, animals drank. Animals of all sorts. Bears, deer, cougars, flagons, and the rare unicorn but there were others Alric had never laid eyes upon.

A large beast with a head like a lion and a tail like a serpent. Beside it was another with an eagle’s head and lion’s body with strong wings. Small furry animals with round faces and tiny little legs. Such strange magnificent creatures were not disturbed by their presence.

“Beautiful, are they not?”

He had almost forgotten Bae stood beside him. “Where are we?”

“Dochas.” Leaning down, she ran her hand through the water. “Taste. You must be thirsty.”

Alric was parched. Yet, he hesitated. “I know not what I drink.”

The dark shadow above him circled. Swirling in the wind, a figure emerged from the haze. A gray hooded man…woman…Alric could not tell. The face was smooth; the hands looked soft. Yet, the shoulders were broad; the height, tall.

Slowly, it dawned upon him. Though, he had never seen one, he stood before an Ermafóditos.

“Bae, you have returned.”

“I promised I would,” she said, rising to her feet. “I brought him.”

Alric felt the eyes of the Ermafóditos on him. He shook his head, taking no more of it.

“Tell me now why you brought me here, Bae?”

She laughed. “Pardon my friend, Cayce. I’ve told him nothing.”

“As was directed,” Cayce said blandly. “Follow me.”

Shaking his hand in front of his face, Alric said, “I go no further until I’m told…”

“Ser Alric, if this wasn’t necessary, I would not have gone to all the trouble to bringing you here. Now, come.”

Cayce spoke the words without thought of being disobeyed. Alric hesitated, but realized he hadn’t another option. He followed. Though, he asked, “And here would be?”

The look Cayce gave silenced Alric. He remained so until Cayce stopped before an old, small hut with a thatched roof in the middle of the dense forest. The weathered door opened, but only two entered. Bae stayed outside.

“No,” Alric said, turning back to her. “You brought me…”

The door shut.

Alric’s anger grew. At least, he called it anger. He refused to consider it fear.

“Ser Alric of House Sexton, let go of your trepidation. You need to see all with an open heart.”

“Who…who are you? Why am I here?” Alric demanded. It had become obvious to Alric that Cayce had a purpose for him. He was quite tired of risking his life for a purpose.

Swinging around, he found his voice had faltered.

Somehow…someway, he had walked into the past.

* * * *

Alric could see the Bell Tower at his home, Arch of Garten. He smelled the gardenias in his mother’s garden, the aroma of roasted mutton from the hearth’s fire. He knew every step up the tower. Many days, his brothers and he would play within the confines of the bailey and towers. He saw the entrance to a secret passage behind the stairwell where he had hid many times in his youth.

A squeal of laughter broke the silence. He watched himself as a child running from his older brothers, who tackled him. Laughing uncontrollably, the three rolled in the dirt. Then his mother appeared, holding his youngest brother in her arms. She looked happy. Love radiated from her.

His heart tugged at the sight. He had forgotten. The scene faded into a mist, leaving him alone with Cayce in the grey darkness of the hut.

“What are you doing?” Alric cried in frustration. “Is it your desire to torment me?”

“A remembrance only,” Cayce stated plainly. “I have never given to a human what you have seen. I gave to you for you have given yourself. I have seen the world outside. My friends, the elves, the fairies, and the Tollins, are endangered.”

“The whole of Witheleghe is,” Alric countered. “You talk to me only for you are frightened for your world? What of mine?”

Slowly, Cayce faced Alric. There was no expression on the Ermafóditos. “Do not ask me, mortal. Your world is mine, also,” Cayce stated. “I will tell you what you have need to know.”

A pale mist smoldered about Alric. It cleared. No more was Alric in the middle of a forest. He stood in the depths of the earth. Dark, foreboding figures walked through the scorching, hot cavern.

Sweat beaded on his forehead, he felt heat. In the distance, he heard banging, the clanging of metal against rock. A light flashed. A man appeared. Alric recognized him—Thardalf of House Reishus. His wife had been Princess Azure, daughter of King Darius.

“How is the tunnel coming?” Thardalf walked toward the dark figures. Alric followed, quickly coming to an opening.

Torches lit the whole of the tunnel. Alric saw before him what he had only heard about in rumors and whispers. A hundred men, women, and even children, ragged and unwashed, were chained together with picks and shovels. A long, wide passageway had been burrowed.

The place reeked with an odor that gagged Alric. The filthy workers were emaciated and wore nothing but rags. Alric saw no visible water barrels. The Arachnidan soldiers whipped one that slowed their progress. The debilitated woman fell to the ground. Again, the soldier whipped her, but to no avail.

An officer took out a crossbow. The officers looked indistinguishable from the soldiers, except in their cloaks were sewn the scorpion’s sigil and their helms were of bright red. He shot the slave through the heart. He laughed as did those around him.

The slaves made no protest nor sound. Pressing onward, sweat dipped down their dirt-crusted faces.

“Your Majesty,” another officer bowed his head. “It has only begun. It is slow. We have to burrow through stone.”

Thardalf drew in a deep breath. He seemed well pleased with the progress. “What of the Highborn Chamber? How do our guests fare?”

“All are intact,” the officer reported.

Thardalf circled his hand. Immediately, a window through the stone was created. Alric watched in horror. Bodies hung in the air. Their arms and legs hung loose beneath them. Their eyes frozen open, but they breathed.

Twisting his hand back, Thardalf smiled. “That is good…good.”

Once more the pale mist arose, encircling Alric. Once more it faded and he stood again facing Cayce.

“You do not have much time,” Cayce said. “Once Asmeodai breaks through, no one will be able to stop him.”

Alric shook his head. “No, that was Thardalf of House Reishus.”

“You know little, Ser Alric. Asmeodai now embodies Thardalf of House Reishus’s body.”

“Embodies…you make no sense.”

“Do I not? Yet, you do not question it was Asmeodai that threatens your world? Have you never question how he has lived?”

Confusion reigned in Alric. If Asmeodai had taken over Thardalf’s body, why would he not take a younger man? Thardalf was an older man, forty-five, maybe fifty.

“I see you hold doubt. Is not that so?” Cayce continued. “Asmeodai is a wizard that is both subtle and quick to anger. He dangles what his victim most wants…then he has his prey.”

“You are saying he jumps body to body?”

“For thousands of years.” Cayce went silent.

Alric said nothing. His mind raced. Cayce explained so simply what had been questioned for centuries. Asmeodai had found a way to become immortal.

“Asmeodai’s magic is powerful,” Cayce said as fact. “He has accumulated it for thousands of years. He drained his realm and has conquered Witheleghe. If he breaks through to the Siochanta Realm, no one can stop him.”

“You talk as if we can.”

“If you don’t, Witheleghe will become as Arachnida. A wasteland. There will be no survivors. Asmeodai will wipeout all that is not as he.”

Alric shivered at the dire warning. The threat was real and urgent.

“Thardalf was confident in his dealings with Asmeodai. He believed that he would be King of Witheleghe. He betrayed his wife, children, and her family. Never did Thardalf suspect what was to come.”

Comprehension sank within him, Alric said, “Asmeodai promised Thardalf the kingdom.”

“Along with immortal life.” Cayce gave a slight nod. “Thardalf did not realize that Asmeodai would take his body, in essence giving to Thardalf what he was promised.”

“Tell me now. What is it you think I can do?” Alric challenged. “I am not powerful or shrewd enough to defeat Asmeodai.”

“You have only one course to take. Unify Witheleghe.”

“I am not the man you believe I am.”

“I know well who you are,” Cayce stated firmly. “I was the one to send Sae and Bae to you. I would not send my children if I did not know what was in your heart. You do not seek power or riches, but they will find you.”

Alric shook his head. “You don’t know me. If you did, you would know…”

“You have courage, Ser Alric. You are not a passive soul, understanding that there can no longer be passing the torch to another to fight your battles. Courage is what will be needed to face what is ahead.”

“It is not I.”

“Enough!” A smoldering fire lit Cayce’s eyes. “There is no time for arguments. If you do not accept this mission, then Witheleghe is doomed.”

“I can’t do what you ask on my own.”

“It is why I sent you Bae. She will help in your effort to unite Witheleghe. She knows who is in hiding.”

“Hiding?”

“You cannot believe that you are the only one that has escape the wrath of Asmeodai.”

“Of course, not,” Alric began. “There are elves, fairies, and dwarfs in hiding.”

“There are more. Many of the great houses of Witheleghe have found ways to escape Asmeodai…so far. Though, unlike you, they have chosen only to help a specific few. They will be necessary along with the heirs of King Darius.”

Alric stared at Cayce strangely. “Princess Eufamia and her children? It is thought…”

“That they died when the portal closed,” Cayce finished for Alric. “Princess Eufamia gave her life, but her children live. They will return…you must hold on until that time. To do so, you must destroy Asmeodai’s tunnel.”

“Destroy the tunnel?” Alric repeated as if he didn’t believe what he heard.

“You have seen Asmeodai is close. You have no other choice. The fate of Witheleghe lies within you.”

With those words, Cayce gave a slight nod.

In a puff of smoke, he was gone.

 

As the rising sun came flowing through the grove of cherry trees, Alric sat up and stretched. Though he had been offered a room, he had chosen to sleep under the stars on a blanket of thick fescue grass.

He longed for a good night’s sleep. It had not come. Though, in truth, he had not had a good sleep in eight years.

After his visit to Cayce, Bae had transported him to her home, Briar Fuana, in the Charmed Woods. The hand of Asmeodai had not descended upon this beautiful land. Lovely rambling gardens flourished within the elves boundaries. Stunning flowers bloomed across the ancient village: magnolia, irises, and gardenias.

Ornamental trees, cherry, apple, and tulip trees, were scattered throughout the ground. Willow and birch trees added greenery. A long winding stream flowed through the center with a stone bridge connecting the gardens, covered with an abundance of pansies. The water pooled into a small pond where golden fish swam beneath the waterlilies.

Last night, he had chosen this spot to lay his head. Awakening in this serenity had done little to relieve his frustration. His anger had not receded.

The visions of Cayce had disturbed him greater than he cared to admit. How dare Cayce play with my memories! Yet, he confessed he had been grateful for the sight of his family. Through the last years, he had forgotten what they meant to him, overcome with the need to survive.

How…how could I forget? The answer lay within him. Guilt…guilt of being the one to survive.

His destiny had been to become a knight. His only desire was to make his family proud. How could he do so now? His family was dead.

He ran his hand through his long hair. His responsibility had been to protect the royal family. He had failed. They had been massacred with Thardalf‘s betrayal.

“I was told I would find you here.”

Alric turned to see Sae walking toward him. She moved slowly. Her face paler than usual. Her eyes held no twinkle.

“Sae.” He rushed to her side. “You should not be out here.”

A faint smile formed on her lips. “I am weak,” she agreed. “Only here can I recover.”

She held her hand out. He took it and kissed her cold fingers. “I miss you, Sae. I need your strength.”

“I’m sorry I can no longer give myself.” Sadness echoed in her voice. “But you are wrong. It is your strength I need, my friend.”

“You gave yourself and can give no more.”

“It is the weakness of elves. We survive off the love of the earth.” She reached up and caressed his face. “I know what is being asked of you. Know you are not the only one that has been summoned.”

“But why me? Have I not done enough? They ask me to sacrifice myself to save whom? Those who have hidden…afraid to help others. We saved any who needed it. Why am I pressed to give my life for those that care only for themselves?”

“It is not for us to question the path we have been given? You do not know what lies ahead, only what will be if you do nothing.”

He swung his hands down by his legs. His anger brought forth. “Why me? I am a nobody. I have no family left. Who am I doing this for?”

“Faith, my friend,” she urged softly. “Hold faith that the good in our world is worth fighting for.”

Behind her, he watched Bae walk up to her sister’s side beside a pretty, young girl. She looked no more than ten or eleven, but with elves, he was certain she was older. Though, the girl’s face held an innocence that came with youth. Her long, blonde hair fell down her back. As with most elves, she wore a crown of living flowers.

“Sister,” Bae said with tenderness. “Shalendra is worried about you.”

Alric watched Sae’s expression soften at the young girl. He nodded toward Sae, “But of course. You should not be out here.”

“It is good that you meet my youngest daughter, Ser Alric,” Sae insisted on the introduction. She drew in a deep breath. “My beloved daughter, Shalendra, this is Ser Alric. A most dear friend.”

The young lady curtsied. Ser Alric took the young one’s hands in his and kissed it like he had done her mother. She blushed prettily.

“Do you need me to help you back to your home?” Alric asked, watching Sae take harder breaths.

“We will care for my mother,” Shalendra said, pointing over to an elf waiting patiently at the end of the path.

Alric nodded toward the man that was most certainly Gormar, Sae’s husband. He had heard much about him. In their time together, Sae talked about her husband often with love. He stared at the two until they disappeared from view.

“Sae should not have gotten out of bed.”

He looked back at Bae. “You don’t know your sister if you thought she would not have greeted me.”

“I know my sister well, Ser Alric,” Bae said stiffly. “It is you who doesn’t understand.”

“I understand well enough,” he snapped. “Do you take me for a fool, my Lady?” He took her arm and roughly pulled her up to his face. “I know when I’m being manipulated. Did you think it would only take a come hither look? Did you assume I would fall at your feet and proclaim myself your champion? Find yourself another sap.”

Her eyes stared into his. Devil be had! He lost himself. She smelled like the fragrance of flowers. Her red lips looked inviting…enchanting. Never had he been this way with one such as this…

He reprimanded himself. Get a hold on yourself. It had been over eight years since he had a woman. He could not afford to show any weakness at Tuhinga o Mua as he could not now.

Abruptly, he released her. “Be gone from me. I am not some fool as to believe that I am a savior.”

Bae stood still. A slight wind blew her hair onto her face. Pushing it back, she did not break her stare at Alric. Finally, she said, “Ser Alric, you deserve to know the truth. Go and refresh yourself. When you return, I will tell you all.”

* * * *

Alric had taken his time. He had feasted upon the fruits of Briar Fuana, milk, cheese, ripe berries and fresh bread. There were many. The elves lived in a wondrous place. Far away from the threat of Asmeodai in the deep recess of the Charmed Woods.

Sae had told him that when Asmeodai first attacked Mirth, his dragons burnt their entire city. The remaining elves scattered into the deepest part of the forest to where they considered themselves safe.

He wasn’t so certain of their safety. Neither did the elves…now. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be here. Elves were not known for their hospitality toward men, but they had been most welcoming to him.

Alric took the meandering path back up the hill to the fish pond. Bae waited as she’d promised. She sat by the water, running her hand through it.

On his appearance, she eased up on her knees. Alric extended his hands to hers and helped her to her feet.

“Come let us walk,” she said in a clear, soft voice. She laid her hand on his. “I hope everyone has extended themselves to your comfort…though I can’t imagine how, if you slept out here last night.”

He did not answer at once. Instead, he enjoyed the moment of escorting a beautiful woman on a stroll. His temper quelled. “I was shown a quite comfortable room,” he said, walking under a flower covered arbor. “I found I needed air to think.”

“My apologies,” Bae said. “This is my fault. I should have been more forthcoming before I took you to Cayce. In truth, though, one cannot prepare for one such as Cayce.”

“Then be truthful now,” he pressed. “What is it that you want from me?”

“As you suspect, I do want you to risk your life, though, no more than I am prepared to do.” She frowned. “But it has not always been so.”

Coming up to a bench, Alric gestured for Bae to sit.

“If you wish.” She gave him a small smile and sat.

In turn, he did also.

“It is not easy to say, Ser Alric. The truth does not bode well for me or my people.” She paused, placing her hand over her mouth. Tears welled in her eyes. “When Asmeodai broke through the Maunga Mountains, the dwarfs sent a messenger, Yumaen. His journey was harsh. He had been injured in the attack, but he found the way to the Veil.

“Yumaen told of the horror. There was no warning. The Arachnidans attacked quickly and without mercy. The venomous army tunneled through the Maunga Mountains and morphed into goliath spiders, ants, and atlas beetles, tearing and ripping his people to shreds. Blood and body parts were strewn throughout the passages of the caverns. The dwarfs were massacred by the onslaught of Asmeodai’s army. The survivors scattered to the covert tunnels in the far depths of the earth. Help was needed.”

Alric did not know why she was telling him all of this. The fall of Witheleghe had been devastating to all within the realm. He watched her wipe a tear from her cheek.

“The world was chaotic during the annihilation,” he offered in a strange attempt to give a semblance of comfort.

Shaking her head, she grimaced. “The Augur Council was immediately called. Since Sae, I and my other eight sisters are descendants of the first Elf Queen, Ayae, we sit upon the ten seats. The Elders, our council, included my husband, Tasar. Yumaen pleaded for us to give help to his people. Tasar and Elder Folomon responded…” She choked on her words. He did not press, but let her compose herself before she continued. “Elder Folomon returned and confirmed the genocide. Something we could not allow to happen to Mirth. Folomon described the horror he saw…but the Arachnidan patrols were waiting for their appearance. Tasar was killed. Folomon refused to give me the details of Tasar demise, but I have been told my husband was eaten whole by an atlas beetle.

“Elder Folomon feared that Asmeodai had a seer that could see our every move. He called for us to run and hide in the deepest part of the Woods…to retreat from the path to Troms. We gave no help to the dwarfs…we made no effort to warn King Darius.”

Alric had not expected the confession. He shook his head. “You did nothing,” he uttered, unable to contain his shock. “King Darius could have sought help. The portal was open at that time. Moreover, only his magic had a chance to save all of us.”

“I know.” In a quiet voice, she corrected herself. “Now, I know. I have no excuse. We were frightened that Asmeodai would turn his wrath upon us. Folomon said Asmeodai would ignore us if we did nothing to earn his wrath. We told ourselves that our magic was nothing compared to Asmeodai.”

He refused to accept her reasoning. “How could you? Do you know the harm you have done?”

“I live with it every day.” She went silent for a moment. “Sae was the only one to speak against Folomon,” she said at last. “Sae told us that others would die unnecessarily by our inaction…that we were cowards…if we had any chance, we had need of King Darius. Folomon did not listen and I stood with Folomon, leading my sisters to my side.”

“You should have stood beside Sae,” Alric said bluntly.

“It is a mistake I cannot undo. I thought it was the wisest move. We are not fighters. It was only when Cayce called me to Dochas that I understood the magnitude of our failure. Cayce has been our Guardian Keeper since before my mother. Cayce told me to gather all the magical creatures that I could save and bring them to Dochas, where you met the Keeper. When I arrived, Cayce showed me the terror Asmeodai caused.”

Alric shrugged expansively. “What do you want from me?”

“I am only explaining what happened. I do not expect forgiveness.”

“Then what?”

“I need you to know that I am being honest. We need to trust each other for what we are about to face.”

Letting her words sink deep within him, he sat back. He was angry. If only? Yet, the elves had suffered. Despite the beauty of Briar Fuana, Sae had told him that over a thousand elves had died on their evacuation. Elves are delicate creatures, Sae had said.

Elves were not made for fighting. But who in Witheleghe had been? Renowned for their adversity to fighting their own battles, Witheleghe had closed its borders to other realms. The only entrance had been through the portals.

The absence of strategy to defend themselves had left Witheleghe vulnerable to those whose hearts were filled with envy, greed, and hatred. There were times when one couldn’t run, but face one’s enemies with courage.

As a Flandigana knight, he had taken vows, vows he would not forsake—He would fight for Witheleghe until his last breath.

His hard blue eyes looked straight into Bae’s. “What is it you would have me do?”

 

“Why me?”

The question lingered in the air. Their interchange to this point had been mostly ominous: the gathering darkness of Asmeodai and the flight of the Elves.

“Your magic, Ser Alric,” Bae answered straightway. “There is no other that can cloak.”

Alric nodded in understanding. It had been the first thing Bae had asked him to do the moment he agreed to help in this perilous venture. He had cloaked Briar Fuana. No longer could Asmeodai spy upon their actions.

To Asmeodai’s eye, Briar Fuana was no more.

“Asmeodai may have made a fatal mistake,” Bae continued. “In the course of his assault against King Darius, he called forth all the head of the Houses of Witheleghe and killed them indiscriminately. In his realm, when he killed a soul, their essence of power, whether it was any source of magic or the gift of morphing, he absorbed their ability. He assumed it was such in Witheleghe. It was not.

“As you know, the Houses hold the power in Witheleghe. When the head of the house dies, the heir inherits the magic, as was yours to cloak. After the massacre, he quickly realized his mistake. The magic of King Darius was not within him. He has surmised that the power of Flandigana is not within his reach in this realm, which means that the power lives in the Siochanta Realm with the children of Princess Eufamia.”

“Cayce spoke to me of this. He said they will return.”

“The call will bring our hope home,” she said with certainty. “Until then, there is much for us to do. When Asmeodai realized the error of his ways. He had the new heirs of all the Houses still within his control to be brought to him. He placed them all into a suspended-state-of-being. If he could not have their magic, neither could we. They hang from the catacombs beneath the city in a place called the Highborn Chamber.”

“I saw it,” Alric exclaimed. “Thardalf…Asmeodai checked upon it in my vision. I was confused to what it could have been…” He stopped. Pointing at Bae, his eyes lit. “You said Asmeodai brought the new heirs to Troms…Did he bring Ewan…my brother?”

She shook her head. “Your brother? I thought they must have died. I’m sorry…”

“No, I have a younger brother. Ewan. If Asmeodai thought I had died during the assault…”

“Then he may have been thought Ewan heir…and the reason Asmeodai hasn’t worried about you. He thought you dead.” She grasped his hand. “Did you see Ewan in your vision?”

“I don’t know. I have not seen him since he was a child.”

Nodding in a slow manner, she asked, “Does Ewan have anything to identify him?”

“I suppose he must look much as I do. He had the same blue eyes. I remember my mother remarking on the resemblance to our father.”

“Then I imagine him to be quite handsome,” she said with a smile upon her lips. “But it will do little good to identify him.”

A sudden spark ignited within Alric. “Do you believe we can save him?”

“We won’t know until we try.”

* * * *

For the first time since the Darkness arrived, Alric felt hope. No matter the odds, he would do anything to save his brother. His hardened heart softened looking at Bae, who returned his longing look. Warmth filled him.

Bae sat on a pile of cushions with her legs tucked to her right side. Her thick white hair had been braided, falling over her shoulder. She still wore her green flowing gown, but instead of her a tiara of living flowers, her crown was of yellow roses. The significance of which wasn’t lost on him. The yellow rose was the sigil of his house.

After the question arose about his brother’s well-being, there had been no further discussion. Bae wasted no time, but had taken Alric down a winding path to a circular arbor. Grape vines wound around the stone pillars, giving shade to those who sat underneath its cover. Stone benches encircled the nook. Birds sang in the trees with the sound of the running water from the stream lending to a façade of a wholesome peace.

She walked to the middle of the bower. She uttered, I ambar na- changed; im tur- feel ha in i nen, im tur- feel ha in i coe, im tur- smell ha in i gwilith.  Tul- nin hîn

Turning back to Alric, she said, “I have called an Elfin Council. I go to my sisters. We will return shortly.”

Bae had kept her promise. Within minutes, she came back with an entourage of elves. The females, he assumed to be her sisters. There were eight each as lovely as the next, though none shone as bright as Bae.

Each wore a different color of gown. Some wore their hair under a scarf as had Sae, the others let their hair flow down their backs. Yet, their hair, though blonde was not nearly as white as Bae’s. They took their seats gracefully, beside Bae on the pillows.

Behind them followed the Elders, solemn in their looks. All the male elves were dressed in gray, their faces somber. None dared looked at him standing behind Bae as they took their seats on the stone benches.

“It is time,” Bae stated. “Call the others.”

“They are here.” An Elder announced.

Alric stared as a fairy appeared. At first no more than a sparkle of light fluttering about, pausing to enlarge to a male the full stature as those around him. He had glittering wings and wore a woodland coronet with a ruby jewel adorned the center. In his hand, he held a stave with a matching ruby at the end.

His hair was a flaming red. Golden deer antlers served as an ornamented belt with his red pants. He wore no shirt, but golden armor over his shoulders. Behind the fairy, a dwarf appeared.

The short-legged man had a long thick beard with a full head of brown curls that hung freely around his face. He was dressed in well-worn metal armor, holding his helmet under his arm. His dark eyes glanced at Alric. He smiled.

Alric returned his smile. The dwarf was ready to battle, unlike most.

“Welcome, Prince Yarro, and our friend, Brokk of Ironwell,” Bae said, gesturing toward the stone benches. “We face a great evil. For years we have hidden. It is time to come together to protect our own or we will be no more. There is nowhere else to run. We all are in peril…even you, Sangrey.”

Immediately, Alric heard a pop. He stared in surprise to see a Tollin appear. Why would Bae send for an untrustworthy imp? He had heard tales of the nasty creatures. His father had said that if Alric ever met one, not to trust him. Lustful, capricious creature, who will promise you your heart’s desire one day, the next want to carve it out. Unpredictable. Ruthless.

 As if the Tollin read his mind, Sangrey eyed Alric from the tip of his toes to the top of his head. “So, Bae, you have found your champion.”

Angered at the obvious insult, Alric wanted nothing more than to stomp the Tollin into the ground. It wouldn’t be hard. The imp was no larger than his hand. The rascal smirked.

“Sangrey, do not be aggravating. I will not be vexed,” Bae addressed her latest guest. “You have a great need for Ser Alric as much as any other.”

“Aye, my lady. It is no secret of Asmeodai’s desire to have Sangrey,” Brokk said in a low deep voice. “His Night Raiders posted messages at Venmara’s entrance. Asmeodai offered to the dwarf that captured the nefarious Tollin, Sangrey, to be guardian over the Maunga Mountains.”

Sangrey hissed, waving his hand in a dismissive manner. “It would be your death if you did as Asmeodai suggest. He has never kept his word.”

“Neither have you, Imp,” charged Prince Yarro, turning to Bae. “I have to question why Sangrey is here. He cannot be trusted.”

“Sangrey is the most powerful seer in Witheleghe,” Bae answered. “If he wants sanctuary, he will have to be truthful. Asmeodai wants Sangrey’s magic, which, unlike most Withelegheans, Tollins do not have Houses. His magic can be drained. He knows I speak the truth or he would not be here.”

Sangrey grimaced. “I have seen the world Asmeodai wants to create. You need not say more.”

“If you have seen, what hope do we have?” Brokk demanded. “We need to come up with some escape to the Siochanta Realm.”

“We need not to do something so foolish,” Bae said. “If we could create a portal, Asmeodai could use it to follow us, giving to him what he most desires. Moreover, our doom has not been written in stone, Brokk. The future Sangrey saw was created by our decision to run from Asmeodai. Separately, our people will die. Another future exists. It is ours if we resist. If we unite.”

“I have been told as much from Cayce,” Prince Yarro admitted. “Though, it is hard to go against the principles ingrained within me.”

“Was it those principles that sent you running while your king perished?” Alric spoke for the first time. He stepped around Bae into the center of the arbor. He spread his hands wide and outright. “Tell me why I should trust any of you. I give my magic without reluctance to protect my people. I will not beg for you to come together for I do not want to worry whether in battle you would not run again.”

Alric felt a gentle hand on his shoulder. It was Bae. She did not look at him, but the council.

“Our wrong had consequences, ones that we cannot undo.” Bae walked closely to those seated. “Ser Alric has righteous anger. He has risked his life for over eight years. With only the help of my sister, Sae, he saved two thousand souls at Tuhinga o Mua, uncaring of their race. We need to convince him of our sincerity.”

“How so?” Prince Yarro asked, staring straight at Alric.

Sangrey huffed up his chest, stating boisterously, “You fool. Ser Alric has the ability to cloak and protect your people as he has done to Tuhinga o Mua. We need to show him that we can work together. Show him our courage. He has a brother held by Asmeodai, who is in desperate need of rescuing.”

“Ewan does live?” Alric asked the Tollin, forgetting all the caution warnings in dealing with a Tollin.

“He does,” Sangrey said. “I can see him hanging within the Highborn Chamber. He has been branded with your sigil on his forehead. But if you desire to save him, you do not have long. As Bae has feared, Asmeodai has discovered your existence.”

“What do you mean?”

“Sangrey means that when you cloaked Briar Fuana, Asmeodai was watching us. He could not see you because you are cloaked to his eye, but he knows that your House is the only one to hold such a power. He knows that Cinead was killed because he did so himself as with Diarmid for he was a priest.

“It leaves you. Now, he has another need for your brother. He will use him to have you bow to his feet,” Bae said plainly. “He will use your love to have you expose yourself. If you don’t, he will kill your brother…but we all know that Ewan is dead either way.”

The hope that sprung to reunite with Ewan was pierced. He uttered under his breath, “No…no. I can’t let that happen.”

“Neither will we,” Bae promised. “With no delay, we will help you rescue your brother.”

* * * *

It took an hour to work out the details. There weren’t many. The plan was simple. Go in, grab Ewan, and leave.

Execution of the plan—that was the hard part.

The Highborn Chamber posed several obstacles. Transporting in and out of catacombs presented issues on the best of days. Transporting in and out of enchanted catacombs was near impossible.

The catacombs were situated under the Tuatahi Temple. They had been used in ancient times to bury the dead in the soft volcanic rock where the temple had been built. Once the volcanic rock is exposed to air, it hardens thus stabilizing the tunnels.

However, the catacombs were a maze. To get in and out, they would have need of someone that knew them well. Alric assumed that would be Brokk. Dwarfs had a sensing ability to navigate underground.

Alric had been the only one to have seen the chamber in the vision Cayce’s shared. Zae, the youngest of the Dae sisters, helped him relive the image. With Zae’s hand on his arm, she spoke in elfish. Cen- en- mana tye maure.  

That instant, he saw again what had been shown to him. This time, his intent was upon finding his brother.

He drank in the sight, more foreboding than he had first seen. The walls he thought had been rock were, in truth, lined with bones and skulls. There was no natural light, only two torches at the entrance of the chamber.

Vanta ana hir your otorno. Zae urged.

Alric slowly moved through his vision, walking around the dark, dank chamber in-between the hanging feet and arms. He looked at each head, recognizing many of the Houses if not the person. He found what he sought at far corner.

The yellow rose burned into a boy’s forehead. Emaciated, the face was gaunt. His eyes closed. The only telling sign was this long, thick bronze curls. Those he recognized as his brother Ewan.

Awakened, Alric found the quickly formed fellowship in wait. Brokk with sword in hand stood beside Prince Yarro, who held his staff. Alric reached down to his side, satisfied. His sword still sat ready in his sheath.

“We are set?” Bae asked.

Glancing around, Alric asked, “Where is Sangrey?”

“With Sangrey, it is hard to say.” Bae shrugged. “But I would not expect him to come with us. Asmeodai might sense his magic even through your cloak. Sangrey told us that Ewan is alive, but we do not have much time.”

“You trust the imp?”

Again, Bae shrugged. “Never fully, that would be foolish. But on this venture, I believe it serves his purpose.”

Embedded within Alric was deep distrust of Tollins. Time, though, was of the essence.

Bae squeezed his hand. “We will succeed.”

Hope within him again ignited.

 

Alric had gone on many journeys into Trom since its occupation, but never on a more dangerous mission.

The fellowship emerged underneath a flowing weeping willow outside of Temple of Etar, twenty yards from the steps. The temple itself had been damaged. Pillars had tumbled. Stones had fallen across the entrance. The structure of the building had been badly compromised.

The cloak Alric had supplied hid magic from being sensed. Unfortunately, it did little to hide them from the eyes of others. The small group stood vulnerable.

Frozen, Alric quickly glanced around the plaza in front of the temple. There was no sign of much activity, no sign that anyone was paying any attention to their appearance. More importantly, there had been no one waiting for them.

Their secret mission was safe—at least so far.

Before the Darkening, the plaza had been crowded, noisy, loud, and busy. The market now was in essence no more. Rations were given out by the Arachnidan Army in the early morning. The sun now shone directly above the temple. Only hungry stragglers could be seen in the shadows in hopes of grabbing some scraps.

Bae knelt down on one knee. Grasping hold of some loose dirt, she spoke in a low undistinguishable voice.

In the sky, a few black birds flew by, perching on the edge of the old awnings attached to the buildings along the market street. More and more black birds lit upon awnings, tops of buildings, and rubble until the whole of the street was a sea of black birds.

An Arachnidan patrol rounded the corner. The birds attacked.

There was no hesitation. The fellowship made toward the back of the crumbled stairs. Prince Yarro, who had fluttered about looking more like a butterfly than a threat, transformed back to human form. He waved his staff…the stone moved, allowing the entourage easy entrance into the tunnels.

The stone closed behind them, leaving them in pitch darkness. Momentarily. Yarro’s staff lit up, lighting their path.

Brokk nodded twice. “Follow me.”

“Wait.” Bae pulled an emerald amulet from around her neck and laid it on the ground. “Go, my friend.”

A thin wisp of hazy mist appeared in the shape of a unicorn. Glancing back at Bae, the animal seemed to give a nod, and then raced down the catacombs.

“We can say no more. My nin mellon will neutralize any charm guards Asmeodai has set,” Bae whispered. “But we haven’t long.”

Alric unsheathed his sword. Holding it in readiness, he followed Brokk deeper and deeper into the maze.

Despite Yarro’s light, the tunnel was dark and treacherous, he never knew what lay around the bend. Nor did Alric know if his new friends could be trusted. A perilous venture. The one lone comfort was his belief that Ewan lived.

For that, he would risk all.

Brokk stopped at an opening to a dark chamber. Alric rounded the dwarf, comprehending they had arrived at their destination.

Alric glanced over his shoulder, ensuring his companions presence. Only then did he recognized the walls lined with human bones and skulls. In silence, he raised his hand to halt his allies. He moved inside the dark chamber.

Inside, he saw what he had seen in his vision. Bodies upon bodies of souls were suspended from the top of the cavern. Their legs and arms dangling to their sides. In the far corner, the image of the unicorn rose up on two legs.

Ewan had been found!

Alric rushed to the body floating in air. Recognition of his sigil on the boy’s forehead was easy. He searched for a semblance of familiarity. He could find nothing, except the head full of hair. If not for the boy’s chest compressing and giving off shallow breathing, he would have thought the boy dead. Alric carefully laid the boy down onto the ground.

The boy writhed in pain and grasped for breath. Alric gathered his brother in his arms. The lad looked like a breathing skeleton.

Alric rushed toward the chamber’s entrance.

Outside the chamber, a thunderous stampede of boots clambering erupted.

“We have no more time,” Bae warned. “Bring him.”

“There are others we need to save,” Yarro protested. “Others with magic that will be needed.”

Guilt weighed upon Alric. He had not thought of anything or anyone but his brother. They would not get another chance to save any after this attempt.

He looked at Bae. “Take him out. I will gather as many as we can.” He thrust Ewan into Brokk’s arms. “Go now!”

“Which ones?” Alric turned to Yarro. “Don’t dawdle. Which ones?”

Yarro touched the sleeve of an old woman. “This one,” he said, pointing to her companions. “Those two men.”

Alric reached up and grabbed the woman. “Take her. I’ll get the other two.”

The fairy prince hesitated. “They are almost upon us. I can’t leave you.”

“Leave you must,” Alric demanded. “We have no time to argue.”

From the corner of his eye, Alric watched Yarro run out with the woman in his arms. He turned back to the men, taking each down. The sound of boots grew closer. Too close. He couldn’t let them follow the others.

Alric stepped over the writhing bodies. Sword held high, he stood in the entryway, ensuring the full view of the sentries.

Eight Arachnidan soldiers morphed immediately on the sight of him.

There were no cries of pain, no slowing of their movements. Effortlessly, the Arachnidans changed their skin to become reddish-brown ants with large black pinchers, charging on their back legs with heavy long axes.

Not giving the army any other option but him, Alric attacked. He plunged his sword in one, pivoting around cut the legs off another. He bludgeoned the next in the face, never halting his blade swing until there was none left standing.

Sweat poured down his face, he was drenched. His arm ached, his legs cramped. Sucking in his breath, he felt the ground beneath his feet trembled. 

With hardly a moment’s respite, another sentry appeared. He gave a quick look around. There was more. The Arachnidans swarmed the tunnel from all directions. Backing up into the Highborn Chamber, he once more prepared himself to battle. Standing by the bodies he had placed on the ground, he raised his sword.

In their morph state, the soldiers pounced…but were repelled. Stunned, Alric gaped at the sight.

“Don’t just stand there,” a voice demanded. “I can transport more. Hurry and ready as many as we can. There is a necessity to leave immediately.”

Turning, Alric stared at the Tollin. Sangrey had arrived.

“What are you doing here?” Alric demanded.

“Saving your life,” Sangrey answered with a flick of hand. Why was on the tip of Alric’s tongue, but Sangrey cut him short. “There will come a day when I will remind you of my deed.” Gesturing to the bodies above them, Sangrey said, “Those two will do nicely for our cause.”

Alric had no time to contemplate his actions. He gathered the Orimons and sat them side by side.

Sangrey smiled. “Let us go.”

Alric made no reply as the cavern and the Arachnidans faded from view.

* * * *

The world became bright, smelling of fragrant flowers and the warmth of the air. A pale mist ascended from the pond’s water as Alric stood. The earth was green.

Welcoming smiles strewn across the faces of the elves that inhabited Briar Fuana. Alric saw women dancing around a bonfire. Children bounded about, breathless from play. The smell of a pig roasting drifted from the cook-fire.

A celebration had begun.

In the midst of festivity, the rescued Orimons were taken in litters to a large shelter made of white marble. Alric gazed at the aid given. Where is Ewan?

“Your brother has already been taken within the Sinome,” Sangrey said, perching himself on Alric’s shoulder. “The fairy prince has been able to waken him from his deep sleep.”

Alric held back his impulse to swat the Tollin away. The imp had rescued him. Yet, he would be foolish to believe it was anything other than Sangrey’s own selfish needs. “I must go.”

“Of course, we should.”

Alric shook his head. “Only I.”

“Do not treat me badly, Ser Alric,” Sangrey warned. “I saved you.”

“In truth, you did. For that I am grateful…yet, if the power I saw has always been within you, you could have saved us the trouble we went through of getting into the Highborn Chamber.”

“You have much to learn, Ser Alric.” Sangrey frowned. “My ability is like a parasite that ebbs magic from those around me.”

Staring at the imp, slow comprehension sank within Alric. There was only one who had such power that Sangrey displayed. “Asmeodai…you stole power from Asmeodai?”

“I can only borrow power from one that has stolen theirs…such as Asmeodai.” Sangrey’s nostrils flared. “I responded to what I felt, Ser Alric. I might add with great risk to myself.”

Alric eyed him suspiciously. He paused, needing time to consider Sangrey’s words. Something bothered him. Sangrey seemed to suspect Asmeodai’s reaction to their rescue attempt…more than even with his eye could have seen. A sudden thought crossed his mind.

“You know Asmeodai well,” Alric said as fact. “Too well some might say.”

Sangrey smirked. “You need not shy away from what you want to ask. I will not elude your question.” His face contorted grimly. “Yes…for a time, my services were given to Asmeodai.”

Bitter fury gripped Alric. He cursed under his breath. “Stupid little Tollin!”

“Aye, some might say,” Sangrey snorted. “Unlike some, I do not put myself on a mortal pedestal. Make no mistake I look after myself given the fact that no one else will. Do not judge me, Orimon!”

“I would rather be dead than ever help Asmeodai!”

“That I know,” Sangrey replied. “But you are right. When Asmeodai caught me, I offered him my gifts. Asmeodai accepted. My sight to see the future offers me several scenarios of what our future might hold. I saw nothing that gave me hope for myself or my people other than serving Asmeodai…until you came into my sight.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Alric demanded.

“That the odds of all of our demise is great,” Sangrey stated firmly. “but you are the only hope we have of resisting until the Witheleghean heir returns.”

Sangrey fell silent, gazing into the sky. Suddenly the sun was covered by a menacing shadow. For a moment, all grew dark.

Frightened screams of elves rang out. The celebration ceased as everyone ran for cover.

Alric glanced over at Sangrey, who shrugged. “Do not blame me. It is Asmeodai searching for our camp. He does not see us…because of you. It is you that angers him. It is you that cloaks his sight.”

“He will not stop searching.”

“On that we can agree,” the imp said. “Asmeodai is consumed with the need for power. I gave him my services. Yet, he coveted my gift. He has no qualms killing his own ally, but this obsession will be his end.”

The shadow moved and the light returned.

“I tell you this, Ser Alric. We have one chance to defeat Asmeodai. It is a hard path to follow. You cannot falter. The first you must do is close the tunnel. If you do not, Asmeodai will be victorious. The noble Orimons we rescued will help you in this mission.”

Sangrey said no more. He tipped his hat and was gone.

* * * *

Battle worn and weary, Alric made his way into the Simone, which was being used as an infirmary. Those rescued lay quietly on the cots that had been brought into the chamber. Ragged remnants of clothing clung to their bodies. He counted… five… six… seven… eight Orimons.

Eight Houses of great magic.

He walked by each, making note of the sigils: star, lion, wind, panther, oak tree, crocodile, stallion, and at last, the yellow rose.

Standing in silence, he stared down at his brother, who lay so quiet…so deathlike.

“Ewan is safe,” Bae said, walking over to Alric’s side. “Orin said all the Orimons will wake in time. He said to bring them out too quickly will kill them.”

“How long?”

“No longer than a week,” she said, entwining her hand into his. “I thought…I thought I would not see you again.”

Turning, his arms instinctively wrapped around her waist. “I could not allow that to happen.”

With some surprise, he realized he had a deep need for her. Whether it was the result of the actions of the last day, her beauty, or simply the want for intimacy. He needed her quite badly.

It was clear she had feelings of the same.

She moved towards him. He kissed her. Her mouth was soft and warm, he lost himself in the moment, only vaguely conscious of his surroundings. She consumed him his every thought. They drew apart, staring at each other.

Stop. You can go no further. She is no whore to randomly bed. She is a lady. Honor dictates to treat her with respect.

“Come,” she said in a soft, alluring voice that he would not deny.

 

Hand and hand, Alric walked with Bae to her home, which was embedded into a huge oak tree. He found the dwelling was quite deceiving on his entrance.

She lived within a living garden.

Alric realized the tree served as a door to a small world that Bae had created. The floor was a bed of soft, green grass; the ceiling, vines intertwined tightly to each other. He noticed the furniture had flowers and greenery growing around each piece. In the midst of the beauty, there was a large pool of water.

With a flick of her hand, Bae dismissed her servants. She waited until they disappeared. Moving seductively to the water’s edge, she paused at a small table which had been filled with fruits, cheese, and a decanter of wine.

She poured a goblet and handed it to Alric. “Not quite as good as we used to have before the Darkening, but I have formed a preference for it.”

He raised his glass briefly to his lips, then lowered it. “Bae, I shouldn’t be here.”

Pouring a one for herself, she ignored his words and raised it up. “To Ser Alric, a beckoning of light in the darkness.”

She drank and sat the goblet back on the table.

Sitting his glass down as well, he quelled his desire to relent. He coupled his hands around hers. “I can’t allow this to go further. You know what I want, but I cannot…will not dishonor you.”

“I know you hold to vows that being a knight demands…that being an Orimon demands. You are a man of honor,” she said. “But we have a special bond that few experience. I was married for many years, Alric, and never have I felt as I do for you.”

She kissed him. Whispering against his lips, she said, “I have made many mistakes in my life, but you are not one.”

His need overwhelmed all thoughts. He uttered, “Marry me.” The words escaped him without thought. Elves never married humans, even Orimons. The two races did not mix…not that he was aware.

Her mesmerizing eyes stared back at him with no rebuff. She smiled, a soft, loving smile. “Yes, tonight if you wish…but first…” Freeing his shirt from his waist, Bae pulled it over his head. Her finger tips teased his chest. “Kiss me again.”

He did. This time he drew her tighter into his embrace, slipping the straps of her gown over her shoulders. “You know I want you,” he heard himself say.

Bae stepped back. Her gown shimmered to the floor. She stood before him naked. He had never seen a woman so beautiful. His eyes focused on her breasts, her perfect, lovely breasts. Then he gazed downward over her narrow waist to the juncture of her thighs. His manhood stiffened.

She moved gracefully to his side, her hand slid under his pants. Her fingers made quick work of the buckle. Soon, his clothing covered hers on the floor.

He lifted her in his arms and laid her down on the soft bed of grass. He was not experienced in the art of lovemaking. It had been years since he lay with a woman and none so beautiful, but his body played the part eagerly.

Cupping her breasts and rubbing her nipples, he buried his head in her thick white hair. Scare taking a breath, his hand drifted down the curve of her belly, through the mound of white-silver hair and slid his fingers into the wet, slippery cleft between her legs.

Bae put her hands around his neck and pulled him down on top of her. “Come, my love, I can take no more.”

In answer, he entered her. Instincts drove him to where nothing else existed but the heat of her, the fragrance of her hair, her lips on his. Her nails dug in his back as she cried out He did not care, lost in her essence.

Lying together afterward, she cradled her head on his chest. He stroked her cheek. “We’d best be up.”

“I like it here.” She smiled.

“Aye,” Alric agreed. “I won’t have others whispering behind our backs. We can’t have that. You agreed to marry me.”

Bae looked up from his chest. “Then let us go to a wedding…ours.”

* * * *

Under a full moon, Alric alongside of Bae stood before the Elvish priestess. The two took vows that bound them together as man and wife.

There had been none to question the High Sister’s decision to marry an Orimon. Instead, the whole of the village broke out once again into celebration.

A small orchestra of elves played a lovely elfish song. Children laughed and danced around a ribbon pole. Fairies that hadn’t shown themselves in years joined in the merriment. Dwarfs had been called to enjoy the festivities.

Bae led Alric to special chairs decorated with an abundance of flowers. She gestured for him to sit beside her. It was a place of honor. He sat. The whole of the celebration ceased. Everyone fell to one knee.

His heart was touched that she shared with him this honor.

Alric had only begun to understand that he had become Ser Alric, the Delivar, to the resistance. He had delivered them from the evil clutches of a mad wizard.

For the first time since the Darkness, the resistance had struck at the core of Asmeodai. Gone was the fear that the darkness had cast. Hope resurged. Asmeodai forgotten…at least for the night.

SIOCHANTA REALM

 

Kela

 

 

Four years had passed since Kela arrived in this forsaken place.

She had never forgotten the day when she woke groggy, bleary, and disoriented. Sunlight shone in her eyes as she laid on a straw-strewn floor.

To her horror, she had found herself in an old, ratty hut. There was only one room with a window that had no barrier between the outside and indoors, no glass or shutters. The floor was dirt. In the far corner, there sat a broken table that tilted to the side and a worn cot by a blacken hearth.

Confusion clouded her thoughts.

Kela hadn’t a clue where she was. Slowly, remembrance returned…terrifying, frightening remembrances. The creature reaching toward her; Cono with his sword in his hand drawn.

I blasted the creature…I had, hadn't I? Had I not seen Cono thrust his sword into the creature? I heard the cry of the dying Arachnidan.

Yes, she was certain he had done so.

But where was she? Where was everyone?

Was she still within a dream?

Kela stood for a long while in a daze before realizing that this was no dream.

A slight whimpering noise disturbed the silence. She flinched. Was that a cry? Was someone in pain? Slowly, she eased out the door.

Kela shielded her eyes surveying the surroundings.

The sky was clear and bright. In the distance, she heard the song of the larks. The green lawn was long and bordered against a foreboding, dark forest.

Adjusting to the light, she continued to follow the crying. Turning the corner of the small cottage, she found her old nurse, Guilda, holding her head in her hands and weeping soundly.

Kneeling down, Kela brought Guilda into her arms. “What is wrong, Guilda? Where are we? Where is everyone?”

“Kela, what have you done? Why have we been banished here?” she wailed, refusing to look at her.

“Guilda, I don’t understand what you are saying? The last I remember is using my shield to help save the king. Surely, he could not be angry with me about such?”

“Kela, I think not. The king would not have reacted this way if your words were true. The Royal Wings woke me and dragged me from my bed. They took us both from Yucca in the cover of the night. I didn't even get to say farewell to Sareta. My poor child will not know not where I went. She must be frantic!”

“What of us?” Kela cried, suddenly overwrought. She rose, turning around and around, trying desperately to see something familiar. “Where are we, Guilda? Can we leave? Where is Falco?” She shook her head in disbelief. “Turstan would never desert us.”

“This I was told is the Forbidden Forest.” Guilda finally wiped her tears and looked up. “It is our prison.”

* * * *

Kela learned later that the Forbidden Forest lay on the northern border of Scarladin. One never returned once they entered the haunted woods.

The small hut sat at the foot of one of the rolling hills of a deep valley, tucked away from prying eyes by a thick hedge with only one opening. To the east, a winding stream flowed at the back of their dwelling surrounded by ancient oak trees. It seemed to Kela the only access to the outside world lay from the sky. She soon comprehended was the intention of King Edulf.

Guilda's words bothered Kela. “There were only two warriors that flew us to this hell. I believe the one that carried me only intention was to scare me. He pretended to almost drop me twice and seemed to take pleasure with my fear. We flew for days as you slept.

“When we arrived with the morning sun, they were going to leave without a word, but I pleaded with them to at least tell me why we had been taken here. All they told me was that it was as a prison with no means of escape, except from the sky…and we would not be able to do so.

“Do not venture into the forest for it is guarded by lost souls. No one has ever returned once they have entered, one laughed. I begged them to tell me what you had done! Then the one that laid you upon the filth of the floor, he turned to me and said, ‘I know not what was done, but I know of none other than subjects of the King's wrath have been so punished. I know we have been ordered to forget we brought you forth. May the Great One look over you both. You will need such!’”

Guilda uttered the words and wept.

* * * *

Since that time, Kela’s dreams had come and gone. For days, she stood in the back of the cottage and searched the skies with a yearning to fly.

She felt alone…so totally alone.

Over and over again, Kela called to her brother. But it was all in vain. Each morning, she searched the skies for Falco’s arrival, but he did not come. She was trapped in this valley, bordered by the Forbidden Forest and the cliffs of the looming mountains.

Poor Guilda was worse than Kela. She fretted terribly for Sareta. Not much time passed before she became frail. The care quickly reversed. Guilda took to bed, the only bed in the cottage…a dirty cot that had been left. Kela slept upon a straw bed of dried grass and leaves.

In truth, Kela had little time to worry about comfort. They were in dire straits. And the only means of survival depended upon her.

Gone was a simple wish and all she needed appeared. Sareta was no longer beside her.

They had only been left a meager bundle of food, mainly dried loaves of bread. Kela hunted the edge of the woods for any semblance of edible foliage. There wasn’t much to eat.

The winter thaw had begun. Some mornings Kela had to break through the ice to draw water. There was wood to gather, fires to make.

They were cold. The hut was drafty. They had only thin blankets to warm themselves. The hearth was used to both heat and cook their scarce food.

Kela’s body ached, her stomach growled. She gave most of the food to Guilda, who seemed to think they still had ample provisions. Kela had not the heart to constantly remind Guilda of the change in their circumstances.

Guilda cried for Sareta. Her heart ached for her young charge.

Try as Kela might, she realized that she could never replace Sareta in Guilda’s heart.

Kela had no choice but to explore. She gave little heed to the warning against going into the forest. To her dismay, the woods seemed endless. Nervously at first, Kela walked along the border.

Immediately, she learned she wasn’t alone. She could hear voices murmuring, then at other times, singing mournful songs. Soon, Kela gave no thought to their noises, irritated as she was at her circumstance.

She didn’t care if they were spirits, lost souls or whatever. If they couldn’t help her get out of this place, she had no time for them.

One day, Kela heard the lovely voice of a woman. She sang a haunting song, almost a lullaby.

Kela found herself drawn to the melody and strangely took comfort in the ballad.

 

Do not cry, my little one,

Sleep my child with peace,

As I attend to thee,

All through the night and the day,

I will not be away from you.

As guardian angels watch over all,

I'll be as such with my little one.

Watching over you as you sleep.

 

Sleep within the slumbers soundly,

Knowing love surrounds you.

Do not cry, my little one,

The Great One sends me hence,

But my heart will always watch ov'r thee

E'er around my little one,

Close your eyes and dream.

Dreams always, my little one,

I'll stay watching over thee,

Sleep, my little one!

 

One evening, Kela was humming the tune. Guilda looked at her oddly.

“Why are you humming a lullaby, Kela?”

“Lullaby?”

“It is the one your father sang to you children as a babies.”

Kela remembered little of the time before her parents’ death. Oddly, the sound of the lullaby calmed her. She ceased to be afraid or irritated or whatever she felt about the lost souls.

The water from the stream running alongside the forest was the only source of fresh water they had. Kela saw the shadows that loomed amid the darkness of the woods, but she no longer felt threatened.

She realized the danger of their beckoning, knowing she had no knowledge of their intent, good or evil. Yet, they did not harm her. In truth, they helped her find roots, mushrooms, and berries that were safe to eat.

Kela and Guilda survived for a month in those circumstances before she heard the fluttering of wings. Sordarins!

Overhead, the Sordarins came into view. Her heart pounded madly. Of course, they had returned! They couldn’t leave her here without explanation.

In her next breath, her heart faltered.

Kela watched in disbelief as the Sordarins flew past their small shelter as if they were invisible. She watched the small group disappear from view. The Sordarins landed…they had returned to this forbidden place.

She waited in hopes that the Sordarins would make some contact, but there was none. She could have cried in despair.

Lying in bed that night, Kela contemplated her options. Whether or not to make contact was weighing heavily on her mind. By morning light, she had made her decision. She would venture toward where she had seen the Sordarins land.

Kela had no choice. They had gone hungry and cold for too long not to try to connect with the visitors.

With the morning light, Kela began her journey. She hadn’t told Guilda, who Kela feared would panic, believing she would be left alone.

Kela left Guilda while her nurse slept, laying out the little food they had, which was no more than the crumbs of the last bread they had and a round red, sweet fruit of which Kela had no knowledge of its name, except it seemed to be plentiful on the ground.

Trekking to the top of the rocky hill, Kela glanced back at the cottage. She vowed she would return with aid for her aged nurse. The sun centered high in the sky before Kela caught sight of her destination, an old seemingly forgotten castle.

She sighed.

Sweat poured down Kela’s cheeks. Her feet hurt after traveling over rough terrain. She was tired and still had a ways to go. True, she had taken a longer route, but she dare not take the easier path for fear she would be exposed and vulnerable to attack if these Sordarins weren’t friends.

Exhausted, Kela managed to come to the base of the castle, only to find it surrounded by huge boulders that were covered by thorny vines. She saw no draw bridge or main entrance. Her lips twisted, after all she was dealing with Sordarins, who needed no gate to enter.

Frustration ruled Kela.

She stared at the castle for only a moment. She had not traveled this arduous trail to be denied entry. Kela blasted…again and again. Walking forward, she ignored her tunic being caught on briars. She refused to be deterred from her intent.

Kela kept blasting until her arms stung.

Waiting only until the dust cleared, she was prepared again to blast, except now there was an opening. Boulders had been smashed and thrown aside, vines had been broken allowing her a free pathway to the castle.

An archway had been formed when the castle’s stones had been crushed into sand. She walked through the destruction to find a young Sordarin frozen to his spot, stunned at her feat. Behind him, several more Sordarins began to emerge, leery of what they might find.

Stepping forward, she saw expressions of open amazement. That was not all. From the corner of her eye, she caught sight of an old man walk into the courtyard. Her arms rose in defense…

“That is not necessary. Please, let me keep all my students intact, my dear child.”

Kela turned her head toward the calming voice. The elderly man was not Sordarin. He had flowing gray hair, held back by a tie around his head. Short in stature, he was the same height as Kela. His face shown the worn lines of the years behind him.

His wrinkled hand was drawn upward in such a fashion as to hold back an assault upon her. Yet in the mood Kela was in, she cared not. She was prepared to take them all on.

Then, a smile emerged on the old man’s face. He pointed at her. “There is no need for more destruction. I can understand your frustration. We have only returned here last night to discover that the caretaker passed away since our last departure. It is a shame for it was thought he would have greeted you…”

“Greeted me?” Kela corrected. “The only greeting I have had was a harsh one.”

“The ones that brought you should have seen to your needs before departing.

Kela shook her head. Though, her manner didn’t relent with his pretense of caring for her wellbeing. She had no knowledge of these people.

Reading her thoughts, the man pressed his lips together. “My name is Twiten.” His hands gestured wide across his chest. “These young Sordarins are under my care. They are to be instructed in the ability to be a Euchoun, although I’m certain they have not seen the power that was just exhibited. To be honest, I had been told…held hope it would surface again, but until one sees…”

“I don’t understand you, Old Man.”

“No? You don’t know why you are here?”

“I know only that I was ripped from my family and brought here in the dead of night with little food and only a semblance of a shelter. I hear not from my brother and don’t feel my sister’s presence. No, I don’t know why I’m here.”

He nodded slightly, motioning to one behind him. “Go prepare a meal. See what we have for clothing also.”

“No, wait…My nurse is in bed,” she said, filled with confusion. “She needs food.”

His smile widened. “Spoken like a true Euchoun. Thinking of others…That is what you are is not, young lass? You wonder why you are here,” he paused and walked up beside her. His hands pushed hers down. “You don’t need to use your powers against us. My students are known as Ecrils. Though not as powerful, they are like you. It is why you are here.”

“Why?”

He said simply, “To train, young lass. To train.”

* * * *

The castle had not been inhabited for quite a while. Cobwebs filled the corners with an inch of dust on the furniture and floor. This, though, did not deter Twiten from showing Kela into a large dining hall, where he had food prepared for her.

The plate was filled with a partridge, potatoes, and freshly baked bread. Unable to contain herself, she gobbled down her plate. Glancing up, she found Twiten studying her. Taking a bite out of the bread, she asked, “Who are you?”

“My name is Twiten. I tarry from a land long ago lost, Narteria. At one time, Narteria was the source of all that is known upon this world, but our numbers have dwindled. The few of us remaining are called Overseers in charge of countering the balance of the Siochanta Realm. You will learn that we all have been born with a purpose. Yours is to protect. Mine is to give you the means to do so.”

“I have never known a Narterian,” she said. “I certainly have never heard that you are to guide me.”

“You were not raised as a Euchoun. True, you have known what it is to hold the power. Understand that true Euchouns are rare creatures. Yes, Euchouns have the power to shield and protect, but little compare to the feat I saw you perform this day. In truth, young lass, I have only seen one other exhibit close to your power,” he paused, staring straight into her eyes. “But you do not know much about being a Euchoun.”

“There was no one to teach me. I know no other Euchoun, but Guilda can tell you about my upbringing. She is Witheleghean as was my mother, but I am strongly Sordarin.”

“There is a reason you are Euchoun, but it has little to do with being half-Witheleghean,” he said. “What is assured is that we face an unseen danger. Much has happened over the last few years that has King Edulf concerned about Scarladin. We have searched long and hard for the Euchoun foretold. All we have found are on these grounds. They are my students.

“We come to train and develop when the weather warms until the winter winds blow. These grounds hidden within the Forbidden Forest are enchanted, protected from the Hallow Minions. We can train without fear of discovery, but in turn good magic can’t penetrate the field around us either. It is why you can’t hear your brother or feel your sister. Unfortunate, but necessary if you are to survive until you are needed.”

“Survive?” Kela countered. “You act as though I have been protected by some means instead of thrust in this wilderness with no food and only a semblance of a shelter. My siblings were taken within my grandfather’s castle, acknowledged for their birthright. Guilda says my sister is the most powerful Witheleghean that has lived outside of Witheleghe. Sareta has not been protected in the manner I have.”

“You are wrong. There are those that can shield your sister’s magic from the Hallow Minions. One is here. It is a form of being a Euchoun, a different type of shielding, reflecting magic off. Moreover, she has not rebelled.

“You, young lass, have not been able to hide your powers. Already rumors abound of a Euchoun. You are not ready to be acknowledged.”

“Why not?” Kela demanded. “Did I not save my grandfather? I did. Didn’t I?” Her voice trailed off, uncertain now with a memory that blurred on that night.

“Yes,” he said. “Yet, there is much for you to learn. In your words lies the answer to your question. If you know not what you have done, then you have your answer. The power within you needs to be cultivated. The young warrior, who fought by your side, expressed concerns as to where you would blast. He wasn’t certain if he would be caught in your field of vision. It caused for uncertainty.”

“But he killed the creature,” she said defensively, but confusion rang in her voice. She had never considered she could do harm to those she did not intend to do so.

“King Edulf knows Euchouns well. With the power you exhibited comes the warning of a greater evil. The Great One does not send a Euchoun as powerful as we suspect you could become without a threat. It has been written. In all, you must prepare.”

Deep within Kela, his words struck a chord…that was her destiny. “That is my wish.”

“I hope you will feel the same in the time to come. I warn you, though, that this road is difficult enough for a male. But in all, the Great One has spoken. We cannot question…if it is indeed you that he has sent.”

 

Seasons passed without word from her brother or sister. Each with a hope that Kela would have been called home. Yet, she still lived within her forest prison, longing for her siblings.

Kela missed them desperately.

Her time had not been idle. She had studied and trained with a diligence that has far exceeded even Twiten’s expectations.

Her life had been lived in solitude, even when the Ecrils settled within the Forbidden Forest’s boundaries. For in the time since Twiten announced his intent to train her, all his students no longer remember her outburst of power.

She discovered Twiten held strong magic within him, wiping out the memory of her entrance.

Except one— Johannes.

Johannes had become her only friend. He had no last name, or at least, none he remembered. His earliest memories were of living in Twiten’s household. He had been brought to Twiten when he wandered the streets of Yucca.

Her friend was marked with sign of one blessed by the sun. His distinctive dark red hair had most believing he came the Osmolado clan, except for the streak of white. His eyes were strange, glossed over in a sky blue in color. He was different as she was.

Unlike most Euchoun which repelled danger, his Euchoun power came from reflecting off the danger he faced, which was the reason Twiten’s magic had not affected him. It was, also, the reason Kela learned that Johannes had been the one to have protected Sareta from the Hallow Minions.

Envy consumed her to discover that Johannes was close to her family. He seemed to be an especially close confidant to Falco. Yet, it allowed her a semblance of contact to her loved ones.

Johannes kept her secret. Twiten had said it was essential.

From a distance, Kela had trained as the Euchoun she was with the knowledge that even in her small world, she could not be acknowledged for the power she held.

All the while the Euchouns dwelled within the walls of the deserted castle, Kela had served as their maid, waiting upon their needs, watching, and studying. Twiten opened his large library to her.

During the time the Ecrils retreat back to Yucca, Twiten had allowed Kela to take enough books to the cottage. No one was allowed into Blackton Castle after the Ecrils departure. She lived within the books, books of history, battles, and kings.

Kela had been content, for she believed in her purpose.

She had seen evil and had trembled. She refused to do so again.

In that, she held to that belief. In truth, she had to hold on to something. For at times, she felt a void that pain had filled. A pull had grown within her. She had no knowledge to what or whom, but it draws her.

After her first year in the Forbidden Forest, Turstan journeyed with the Ecrils. He was allowed to visit only after he took a vow not to relay communication between her siblings and herself.

No matter, she was overcome with joy to see her guardian. He looked wonderful. She was stunned to discover his wings had healed, but happily so. He could now fly again.

Moreover, she took great comfort in his presence.

Turstan told Kela he hesitated to take the vow for he hated to keep information from Falco and Sareta, but had no choice. It was the price he paid to see her.

Never had Kela seen Turstan cry, but he wept, holding her tight on first sight.

There had been no time wasted in his stay. He trained her with a sword. Although her stature and strength could not compare to a male, Turstan wanted her to move, think, and anticipate like a warrior.

“To protect a Sordarin, you will need to understand the danger they face,” Turstan said more than once.

Fencing with her mentor, Kela staggered back from his frontal assault. She rose on one knee, sword in hand. Turstan had drilled into her: Never drop your sword.

Kela listened well to Turstan.

While the Euchouns were within Blackton, Guilda and Kela resided within the castle. Guilda was revered by the students as a teacher of good magic. Her knowledge of Witheleghe had allowed her to be of use to Twiten. With the need of the students, her health greatly improved.

Guilda’s despair returned on the Ecrils’ departure when she returned to the cottage. The thought of enduring the bleak winter months was depressing. Improvements had been made by the students.

The hut had been transformed. To keep winter at bay, a thick wooden door had been mounted along with glass and shutters for the windows. An addition had been built to supply Guilda with a room of her own. It had been designed and decorated to remind Guilda of her home, to give her a semblance of comfort

The students gathered enough wood and prepared food, grain and dried meat for Guilda and Kela to survive the winter. A barn was built to house a cow, goat, and chickens to supply them with fresh milk and eggs.

For herself, Kela was not given the same comforts as Guilda. She still slept in the corner by the fire on a bed of straw. Twiten said she needed to learn humility.

Kela made no argument, understanding she had much more to learn. Her mind reasoned with her heart that it was for the best.

Twiten reinforced within Kela the importance of focus. Over time, she learned to concentrate solely on her objective, to gain control over her power. She wanted to return to Yucca, but Twiten cautioned her to remain patience.

So, she waited.

Kela had no desire for anyone see the hurt within her. She had only simple garments, one tunic, overcoat, slippers for the warmer weather and one set of clothing for cold weather made of wool and boots along with a fur coat.

Over the years, her clothing had grown tight and worn.

Kela made no complaint, but it is not that she didn’t have her own secrets. She held to them dearly, fearful that they might be taken from her. Secrets from the Forbidden Forest. The Wood Spirit visited her often after the others were gone.

At times, she wondered if the Wood Spirit was real or a figment of her imagination, but she had found an escape from the sorrow that being alone brings. The Wood Spirit told her when he lived he went by the name Daigh. So, that was what she called him.

Though, he floated around the vast woods as a dark shadow, there were times when he would materialize well enough to make out the details of his face. Daigh had a flowing beard with a large nose. He had a kind face, but she had been warned by Guilda not to trust any spirit for they would take a sympathetic form to gain one’s trust.

Yet, Daigh never asked anything of her.

Instead, he talked to her of legends of the past, the path of a Euchoun, a true Euchoun of which he holds she was. He let her see within the world that she was no longer a part.

He showed her the Shimmering Pool.

The Shimmering Pool, a small inlet from the stream that flowed through the Forbidden Forrest, had crystal clear blue water. When the water became murky and swirled, a scene would appear and allowed Kela views of the world that had been denied to her. The Shimmering Pool became a great comfort for Kela for it gave to her a glimpse of Falco, Sareta, and their lives they were leading.

Kela saw only what the Shimmering Pool felt necessary for her. At least, that was what Daigh told her.

Once, in her excitement, Kela tried to show Guilda, but her old nurse saw nothing. Only Johannes had seen…then, only by accident. He kept her secret for she held his.

In the Shimmering Pool, Kela discovered her quiet, shy friend had a deep, dangerous secret. If made known, the knowledge would destroy his life…would cost him his life.

She kept it to herself for a time, but her worry for his safety led her confessing the knowledge of his Sordarin lover. Johannes vehemently denied it until Kela showed him the Shimmering Pool, which let Johannes see scenes of Yucca.

“I saw you in an embrace with a Sordarin warrior, Johannes,” Kela said tentatively for she had no desire to hurt her friend. “I saw you kiss him.”

“If what you surmise is true, what do you intend to do with the information?” His voice faltered.

Kela had never seen him show any emotions. Her heart ached for her friend. “Nothing more than to warn you.”

She was taken back by his belief that she would do him harm. “I have been sheltered here in the Forbidden Forest, but I know that you both would lose your lives for your feelings. Why…why would you ever chance such a thing?”

“It is not a choice,” Johannes explained. “Larko is my life.”

“I cannot say I understand, but I know the Wood Spirit says the Shimmering Pool shows me only what I need to see. Perhaps, it has seen your need to be able to share your burden. I have lost my family, Johannes. You are my only friend. I cannot believe I was shown to do you harm. In my heart, I know I will not. It will not be me to betray you.”

Touched, Johannes said no more.

They had not mentioned it again.

Though, Johannes said little, no matter of what they talked. He had stayed a true friend to her. Moreover, this allowed Johannes to teach her the ways of the court of King Edulf.

The two sat beside the Shimmering Pool while he told her who walked through the scenes before them. The views came and went. Some were clear; others foggy. Some lasted only seconds, but she had a glimpse of her home and all within it.

“Queen Beatrix takes delight in all her family. As you know, she is not your grandmother by birth, having married King Edulf after your grandmother, Althea’s, death. Prince Fenwick and Princess Iris are her children, though Fenwick has lost his heir apparent title, thwarted by your brother, Falco’s, reappearance.

“Outwardly, Prince Fenwick has never shown resentment toward Falco, but he is not to be trusted, nor would I his wife, Lady Dogmar. Rumors abound of her unhappiness of the change of status of her husband. She has set her sights on a crown for Belasquita. Rumors have it that she has pressed for King Edulf to attach her daughter to Prince de Flour of Brixtone. She now has her sights set for a king for her daughter. Lady Dogmar wants the heir of Brixtone for Princess Belasquita,” Johannes said honestly. He continued. “Though, their son, Prince Silas has been constantly by your brother’s side and loyally serves Prince Falco as he served his brother, Prince Axel.

“Princess Amicia, the daughter of Princess Iris, is known for her sweetness, contrasting Belasquita in more than one way. Her blonde hair shines as the sun, her eyes glow as the deep ocean blue. She has two younger sisters, Wymarcha and Cinara. Princess Iris has cared for your sister as she has cared for her own daughters.

“Now, Princess Sareta, is the darling of the court and quite happy. Her sheen, I had to shield, but the beauty within her still shines. When she matures, she will surely overshadow all of her cousins in her glory. Know, she is well loved by Queen Beatrix as well.”

Through the Shimmering Pool, Kela watched through the seasons and the changes within the court…for it is all that she could do.

Yet again, another season began to unfold. Ice had begun to thaw, buds had emerged on the trees. Each morning, Kela rose with the hope that the Ecrils would return. This day had been the same.

Her hope answered. A screech greeted Kela when she walked out of the cottage. Excited, she ran through the early morning dew up the hillside.

She watched a Sordarin circle above her. She recognized him immediately, most would have with his red hair and white streak.

A minute later, Johannes landed beside her. Immediately, she hugged her friend. There had been a time when he would have tightened upon her show of affection. Now, he had grown accustomed to her gesture, when it was only the two of them.

Kela released him and studied the empty the sky. There were no signs of others. “You are alone?”

Johannes responded with a tentative smile. “For the time being, though Twiten may well be at the castle as we speak.”

The news surprised her only that the other Ecrils had not come. Twiten traveled by his open portals. There was one within the castle, but only Twiten knew where since one could not see the portal.

It was the reason Guilda and Kela weren't allowed to stay at the unoccupied castle. Portals were dangerous when used without a Seeing Eye to guide one. Twiten had warned her about the dangers numerous times. Yet, she had watched Twiten and deciphered the proximity of the portal.

To be honest, Kela had to spy upon Twiten. The word forbidden had that effect on her.

“I'm so glad you are here, Johannes. I have to show you what appeared in the Shimmering Pool. I saw a scene yesterday that will interest you.”

Johannes stopped dead in his tracks, jerking back her hand abruptly. “Kela, I forgot!”

“Forgot what?”

“Your boots,” he admonished himself staring down at her old ratty ones. “I promised to get you a pair when I left and more clothes. You have a great need, but with all that has happened, it slipped my mind. I will send Larko back when I return.”

She had completely forgotten about the boots. Her excitement lost, she stuttered, “You aren't staying?”

His gaze lowered. His lips pressed his lips together tightly. Evident the news he had to share would not bode well with her. Finally, he said, “It is why I came early. I won’t be back. I have bonded.”

Her heart sang for her friend. Bonding was the ultimate vindication for a Euchoun. “That is wonderful, Johannes. It is what you hoped…it is what we all hope. I am not surprised. You are strong…”

“It is to Falco, Kela,” Johannes interrupted abruptly. “I have bonded with your brother.”

For a moment…an eternity, Kela stood with her mouth open, trying to speak, but no words were uttered. Readily, the significance sank deep within her, cutting her worse than if someone had stabbed her in the heart.

Long she had believed she would bond with Falco. In some manner, she believed they had already. Twiten had taken for granted the bond would materialize. Bonding was the most important event for a Euchoun.

A bond was forever. Moreover, a Euchoun did not bond twice.

Yet, she was not the one for her brother.

There was no choice but to swallow back her disappointment. She walked over to her dearest friend, leaned up on her toes and kissed his cheek.

“It is wonderful news. I know of no other who would protect my brother as you will. Twiten must be excited to have a Euchoun finally bond…”

“I am not you, Kela. We both know you are much stronger. This means only your destiny lies with another or, perhaps, it means you may not need to bond.” Johannes spoke as if he had practiced the words. He continued, “It is confusing to Twiten, also. It is why he has come to meet with us both before I return to your brother’s side.”

Kela nodded, ignoring the pain of the realization that she had lost her dear friend along with her dream of standing by Falco. She would not hold her head downcast…she would not take away from Johannes’ triumph!

Johannes took her hand, kissing it lightly. “I give you my word I will serve him with my life.”

“Of that, I have no doubt,” Kela said, regaining her composure. She gave him a half smile. “Now, my news seems so insignificant. Of course, you must already know.”

Now it was Johannes, who showed confusion. “Know?”

“Sareta. I assume she must have a new power. It’s so pretty.”

He gave her a puzzled look. “Sareta has no new power that I have been told about.”

Kela pulled on his hand. “Come then. Hopefully, the Shimmering Pool will show it to you. It is fascinating.”

They walked in silence to the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Whether or not her discovery was anything of interest, she was glad for the diversion. Kela fell to her knees at the pool’s edge and ran her fingers into the water.

“What are you hoping I will see?” Johannes asked, standing over Kela.

“My sister.”

To her joy, the waters swirled until the figure of Sareta emerged. Sareta sat on a settee in a large, elegant chamber with a fire burning in the hearth. Kela recognized the others who surrounded her sister: Amicia, Wymarcha and Cinara. Princess Iris sat embroidering by the window.

She recognized the tall, dignified backs of Sordarin warriors. Their uniforms showed they were from the King’s Wings. The warriors seemed engrossed in conversation with the women. Though, the Shimmering Pool allowed Kela to see, she heard nothing.

But it wasn’t important. What she had seen earlier, she saw clearly…even more so.

Bright beams of different colored beings fluttered around Sareta. Their wings beat ferociously, no more than a foot from her sister. Their beaks moved as a woodpecker upon a tree, except it seemed they were pecking at air. When Kela had seen them yesterday, there had only been a few. Now, they had multiplied.

Smiling, broadly, Kela turned back to Johannes. “Are they not the most beautiful creatures? There were only a couple last night. What do you think they are?”

Johannes’s face turned solemn. “I see nothing around Princess Sareta, Kela. What are you seeing?”

“You jest.” Kela pointed to the scene in the pool. “The pretty bird like creatures of different colors, multitude of colors. They are so beautiful surrounding Sareta, trying so hard to get to her.”

Suddenly, Johannes jerked Kela up by the hand. He gripped her waist as if he was about to fly with her.

Stunned for he had never done so before, she cried, “What is wrong, Johannes?”

“I can’t see them, Kela, but what you are describing are Hallow Minions! Hallow Minions that are trying to get at your sister through my shield!”

* * * *

Time slowed. Twiten had the look of shock when Johannes flew Kela in through his balcony. Kela listened to Johannes utter the necessary words, but impatience weighed upon her. Her sister was in danger.

Whipping around to Kela, Twiten demanded, “What does the room look like? Where is the window entrance? The sun shines which way? Sareta sits upon what?”

“Let her go, Twiten,” Johannes urged. “Let Kela lead the way. Let her use the Seeing Eye. She will find her sister. I didn’t see the Hallow Minions. Kela did. I fear there is little time.”

Twiten’s eyes meet Kela’s. Slowly, he nodded. “Let us go.”

He placed his hand on her shoulder, turning her toward a bare wall.

Feeling a strong pull, then hard thrust through an invisible barrier, Kela fell unto a hard floor. Twiten and Johannes followed.

Kela pushed upward with her arms. She saw the Hallow Minions clearly…hundreds of them…all converging on Sareta, who leaped to her feet at the unexpected appearance of the small group. Johannes screamed for her to sit.

“I see them,” Twiten whispered.

Crawling to her feet, Kela focused on the creatures. With a flick of her hand, she swiped back a line of the Hallow Minion against the stone fireplace. Unearthly screams echoed loudly.

Kela watched Sareta’s face betray her fear. Again, she aimed her hand, refusing to let any Minion to hurt her sister.

“I can’t reinforce my shield,” Johannes said, shaking his head. “I can’t penetrate the Hallow Minion’s magic.”

His shield couldn’t break through, but Kela blared hers against Johannes’s shield to protect her sister. The force of her power bounced off his, sending the creatures into the air. Johannes was free to shield Sareta once more.

Contain the threat!

There was no hesitation. Kela whirled her hand in a circular motion, encapsulating any surviving Hallow Minions.

Johannes came to her side. “Let me within.”

Backing up, Kela parted her hands, allowing Johannes to ease his hands within hers. She cried, “They are directly before you, Johannes.”

His eyes lit as his repellent magical shield forced the creatures against Kela’s. The Hallow Minions began to simultaneously explode. A moment later, all was quiet.

It’s done. Let go.

As she was told, Kela released her shield. Johannes turned with her.

Kela found all eyes upon her. Her sister stood in awe. To her surprise, she found Falco was in the room, standing beside another warrior, tall and dark.

Cono!

Her heart raced. She was in Yucca. Within the castle walls. In front of her family!

Kela stepped toward her brother and sister, but in that instant, she felt Twiten’s hands upon her shoulder. Immediately, she was thrust back through the portal.

Before she had time to take another breath, Kela was once more in the Forbidden Forest. Twiten had come with her.

“You need to return back to your cottage, Kela. I have to return and decipher everything that has occurred. I wish it could be different, but for now go home. You have done well, extremely well.”

He stepped back and disappeared.

Kela was alone, again.

* * * *

Days passed without word. Kela worried. She sat for hours beside the Shimmering Pool without a view of her family. Guilda took to bed, her fears magnified for her precious Sareta.

“Hallowed Minions!” she cried. “They found Sareta! They would suck the magic out from her leaving only an empty shell.”

“Guilda, Sareta is safe. We killed them all. Johannes shielded her again from the Hallowed Minions. She is strong herself and only needs to be taught to defend herself. She is at an age where she should learn. She has the power within her.”

“She is not you, Kela.” Guilda saddened. “You without question could survive on your own. Sareta is Witheleghean. It is hard at times to defend oneself.”

“But she has Falco and me.” Kela sat down on the mattress beside Guilda. She, too, felt the overwhelming helplessness. “King Edulf would never allow her to be put in danger, Guilda. I have been told she is the darling of the court.”

After she comforted Guilda, questions abounded. How could she see the Hallowed Minions when Johannes couldn’t? What happened to cause Johannes shield to weaken?

Kela returned to the castle and contemplated entering the portal once more. She warred within herself, but hesitated. Johannes would come for her if she was needed.

Instead, Kela walked, finding herself again at the Shimmering Pool. She refused to leave, afraid she would miss a view.

So, she waited.

 

 

 

Cono

 

 

The world had awakened. The grey darkness that had followed Cono over the last years dissipated, the pale mist fading. He had seen his dream clearly—she lived.

Kela was alive!

He wanted to shout it for all to hear.

At the sudden explosion into Queen Beatrix’s drawing room, everyone had been shocked by the appearance. Yet for him, it was as if the void that had lived within him since that fateful night had been filled.

On her appearance, Cono felt the urgent need to protect Princess Sareta. Before him, he saw no threat, but held no doubt it was there. Instincts had called within him to calm her, focus her attention.

In this, he had done…or thought he had.

Afterwards, the girl had looked at him…knowing it was he…as he had known it was her.

“What has happened?” Falco demanded from his Euchoun, Johannes. As was custom, few knew of the bonding.

Cono did.

Beginning with the killing of the Sawamdai, Cono had long distinguished himself with his service to the crown. He had been rewarded by now serving alongside of the young prince.

Now, though, Johannes had been left alone when Twiten had disappeared with whom Cono was certain was Kela. Despite the demand, Johannes made no reply. Instead, he rushed to Princess Sareta’s side.

“It is over,” Johannes assured her. “You are safe.”

Cono moved to Falco’s side. “It was her,” he whispered. “It was your sister—Kela.”

Falco shook his head. “Impossible…” His words faded with a glance at Johannes. Running his hand through his long hair, Falco turned to Cono. “What makes you talk this madness? That girl was nothing more than a peasant.”

In truth, Cono had seen peasants dressed better than the girl. Her hair was long, but unkempt and oily. Her face dirty as were her clothes. Yet, in that moment, he had made a few deductions.

She had come from the North Country where the land had only begun to thaw. She wore frayed deerskin boots and a tattered fur-lined cloak.

“Trust me, my prince,” Cono urged. “That was your sister.”

Falco grabbed Cono’s wrist harshly. “Do not provoke me, Cono. No matter of our past, it will not bode well for you. Kela is dead. You saw her body as well as I.”

“She lives. I know not how. I know only that it was she,” Cono said in a low voice. “But I do know. As I also know that your Euchoun has knowledge of her. Ask Johannes yourself.”

Falco released Cono. The room was in chaos. His young sister was weeping soundly on Johannes’s arm.

Now was not the time to talk. The chamber filled with Royal Wings, the women were deeply distraught.

Behind Cono, a light touch on his shoulder made him turn. Princess Amicia stood, looking greatly troubled. Despite the tears welling in her large, expressive eyes, she looked exquisitely beautiful, so lithe and graceful. Strands of her blond curls had fallen down around her pretty face, framing it ever so lovely.

“Would you do me the greatest of favors?” Amicia sniffled. “I want to go back to my mother’s chamber with my sisters. Can you escort us? We would feel much safer if it was you.”

“Go, Cono,” Falco directed. “Take Sareta with you. I will call for you shortly.”

Cono frowned, but obeyed. The princesses’ safety was of the utmost importance. Though, if Falco thought he had diverted Cono’s attention from the revelation of Kela’s appearance, the prince would be greatly disappointed.

* * * *

Lights still burned in the Twin Towers behind locked doors. The Wing Guards of the White Twin Tower wore the golden hawk, but their band was crimson, the color of Crown Prince Falco. The same colors that Cono wore in Falco’s service.

Cono had been summoned by the young prince to meet here on the rampart of the White Twin Tower. No one would pay attention to the meeting, not with Falco’s Wings patrolling the area.

The moon had risen. Yet, he still waited. Cursing under his breath, he felt a pull he needed to answer. His impatience pushed him to the edge.

During his years in the Royal Wings, he had learned it was best to hold his tongue. There were no secrets in King Edulf’s court. Spies were everywhere. It was as if the walls had ears.

Rumors abounded about the incident in the early morning. Yet, he had heard nothing whispered about Kela.

Cono raised his eyes at the sound of beating wings. Falco along with his Euchoun, Johannes, landed beside him.

Falco approached. He had grown to be a tall, handsome man with a closely trimmed, dark brown beard. The chain of entwining triangles hung about his neck, one Falco had made in remembrance of his sister. Moreover, Cono had long recognized that Falco’s lighthearted manner masked a solemn, seriousness that had developed after the loss of Kela.   

“Prince Falco,” Cono said, bowing his head. “I came alone as instructed.”

“That is good,” Falco acknowledged, glancing one way then another. “I have a mission for you.”

“I beg your forgiveness…”

“Are you going to refuse me, Cono?” Falco challenged. “For I would have thought you would have been quite anxious to go since it was you who declare my sister alive.”

Cono tensed. “You believe me?”

“After some persuasion, Johannes has confessed the truth…my Euchoun felt it best to keep the news from me,” Falco said, annoyed. “My sister…the one I have mourned for years.”

“Your Royal Highness, I explained I had no wish to offend,” Johannes pleaded. “Twiten had purged the memory of any who may have suspected who she truly was at Blackton Castle. If he had known, the spell had not worked on me…”

“Yes, yes, yes! You have spent the last hours explaining that to me.” Falco waved his hand in front of Johannes, halting the Euchoun’s words. “I want to hear no more from you.”

Falco took a deep breath, pointing to Cono. “It is you I want to go and retrieve my sister.”

“But of course, without delay.” Cono’s throat felt raw and tight, thankful. He had almost lost heart, but he was not the only one overwhelmed with emotions on this day. He saw Falco’s lips tighten.

“King Edulf thinks me a child to keep this information from me,” Falco uttered in a low, hoarse voice. “How does he think I will rule if kept from counsel?”

Shaking his head, Cono, too, questioned the motive behind the deception, but said, “King Edulf must have had good reason.”

“I’m certain he did, but I’m taking no chance that he stops my intent. I failed my sister once. I will not again. You are to leave post haste. Do not tell anyone of your destination…not even my cousin.”

“Yes, Your Highness.” Cono understood the implication. Prince Silas was, also, not to be told. “I need only to know where I journey.”

Falco said clearly, “The Forbidden Forest.”

 

The journey to the Forbidden Forest took three full days of flight. Grateful, he hadn’t a need to take the trek by land. Cono had never flown to the Forbidden Forest, which was in the farthest northeast corner of the Scarladin.

There was only one Sordarin stronghold south of the forest within a twenty mile radius. The need had not facilitated more. No threat lay beyond the Forbidden Forest, only the uninhabitable Ice of Galii, which sat over the barren Tolari Mountains.

No one lived this far north. No one dared. The Forbidden Forest was cursed.

Cono flew along with Johannes, who had not uttered a word on the first day. Not that Cono cared. Prince Falco’s Euchoun irritated him. Johannes had kept the secret of Kela from her brother…from him.

In Cono’s eyes—inexcusable.

Late morning on the second day, Johannes spoke. “How did you know?”

Cono ignored him. He dipped in the cloudless sky, soaring low over the terrain. Johannes followed. To Cono’s surprise, Johannes kept pace.

“You need to know, I don’t believe this is a well thought out plan,” Johannes said. “It’s emotional.”

Abruptly, Cono landed, trailed by Johannes. Cono grabbed the Euchoun up by the leather straps that crossed his chest.

“Damn right, it’s personal,” Cono uttered through gritted teeth. “She is the Prince’s sister. Her supposed death devastated Falco…the man you claim to serve.”

Johannes took hold of Cono’s hands, which had tightened their grip. “Let me go, Cono. It was not my place to tell what King Edulf had taken great effort to hide. When Prince Falco and Princess Sareta were found, I heard the rumors of a great Euchoun emerging. Secrecy is imperative to a Euchoun.”

Slowly, Cono released Johannes with a slight push. Johannes’s words cut deep.

Fire lit in Johannes’s eyes, literally. The Euchoun was angry. “Do not question my loyalty! You do not understand what it is to be Euchoun. Her life has not been one of ease. It could not be for Kela to become what will be needed.”

“What is that to mean?”

“You saw her,” Johannes reminded him. “She has not much. Now, I ask you again how you knew.”

After a long silence, Cono stated, “I felt her need…her intent. Almost as if I could talk to her. I haven’t felt that since the night of the Sawamdai attack.”

Johannes pressed his lips together tightly, but the fire flamed out in his eyes. He looked directly at Cono. “You believe you are meant to bond with her.”

The tone told Cono of Johannes’s dislike of him. Johannes probably thought him arrogant. He had been called worse. Moreover, it was true. He did believe he was meant to bond with Kela. He had since the first night he had met the girl.

“Know, as her path has been, neither will yours be easy.”

“You talk nonsense, Johannes,” Cono asserted, “You, more than most, should understand it isn’t a choice.”

“It is not.” A small smile emerged, Johannes nodded. “Then, you must know the brittle ice you walk.”

“I do not need to be warned.” Cono held no doubt what he faced if he bonded with Kela. “Do you think I am afraid?”

Johannes sidled closer. “No, but you should be,” he warned. “It is not only our enemies that you must face.”

“Do not talk in riddles,” Cono demanded. “What more do you think I…Kela faces?”

“I tell you this for I care for Kela. She is my friend,” Johannes said. “But I have questioned why she has trained alone when you have stood by her twice when she showed her strength.”

“You think King Edulf has no faith in me?”

“It is not faith in you I question.” Johannes shook his head. “If you indeed bond with Kela, it is the power you will present. Be wise…be humble. King Edulf is astute.”

“King Edulf will be pleased…”

“Really? Then why did he bring Kela to the Forbidden Forest without your knowledge. You stood with her with the defeat of the Sawamdai. He must have suspected the bond.”

Cono fell silent. He had had his suspicions it had more to do with Prince de Flour. Yet, he had never considered another possibility.

Johannes pressed on. “King Edulf went to a lot of trouble to convince the world of Kela’s death. Do not take that lightly.”

The pretense of Kela’s funeral had been seen only by a few, but Cono was certain that Prince de Flour had knowledge of her death. He had left shortly afterwards.

A sudden thought disturbed him. “The body…you are saying that King Edulf murdered a girl to conceal Kela from the world.”

“It would be my thought. Prince Falco has talked of the death of Kela to me. How the face was disfigured by the venom of the Sawamdai.”

For years, guilt riddled Cono with the belief he had let the venom flow from the Sawamdai into Kela’s eyes as had been told to him. Relief flooded him on the realization Kela lived, but if what Johannes insinuated was true, King Edulf would have had to poison an innocent with the venom of the Arachnida.

King Edulf would not have acted without reason. On that, Cono was certain. Again, Prince de Flour came to mind…yet, Cono would be foolish to simply dismiss the elaborate ruse.

“I will heed your warning,” Cono said. “With the understanding that nothing comes before Scarladin and our King. I have sworn my allegiance.”

“As have I,” Johannes conceded. “Now before we go further, there are things you need to know about Kela.”

* * * *

Twilight was creeping through the woods when Cono arrived in the Forbidden Forest. Quickly, he understood how isolated Kela had been. The small valley would not be visible to anyone but from the sky. Blackton Castle would be even harder to see, setting back into the mountain. Moreover, the closest village was more than thirty miles away through the cursed woods.

An east wind blew through Cono’s tangled hair, he breathed in deeply, listening to the birds sing. Johannes wasted no time. Cono watched him begin to walk toward a small cottage, but made no movement himself.

Johannes had recited the story of Kela’s arrival, which included her old Witheleghean nurse. Cono had heard whispers of the woman, but nothing he could recount, much less anything of significance.

For a brief moment, Cono thought of following Johannes, but he stopped. Is that a whisper? He surveyed the rocky field. His gaze fell to the edge of the dark, deep woods. The trees were tall and vast with thick broad branches.

He stared intensely. He could have sworn he saw a moving shadow.

Cono walked toward it.

He came to a path. With no hesitation, he entered. Cono walked ten paces and saw her, lying on the bank of the inlet. She was sleeping. Her hand dangled into the clear, blue water.

With her eyes closed, her face had a softened look. She seemed peaceful and so womanly. Her surcoat had crawled up around her thigh, giving Cono full view of her long, toned legs. His eyes scanned upward to her narrow waist, then focused upon her shapely, naked breast.

Johannes had told him that Kela had not lived a life of ease. He had not exaggerated.

Her thin threaded surcoat had burst open. The girl was small, but the garment fit tight. Perhaps when she exploded the Hallow Minions, her clothes had stretched the well-worn material.

Whatever the reason, the cloth had worn through.

Moving around the sleeping girl, Cono took her cloak which had fallen to the side and placed it about her.

Slowly, her eyes opened. She blinked once, twice in disbelief. Pulling the cloak about her, she whispered, “Cono? You are truly here?”

“Yes, Kela.” He smiled. “I’ve come to take you home.”

* * * *

Cono quickly realized that Kela was not happy.

She sprang up with the cloak tight against her. He comprehended she must have discerned what he must have seen. Her face blushed. Lowering her gaze, she took a step back.

“Kela, did you hear me? I’m here to take you home.”

Shaking her head, she asked, “Where is my brother? Why is he not here?”

“The Prince could not make the journey without notice.”

“Without notice?” she grimaced. “I’m not worth the effort?”

Her anger confused him. “Do you not realize the chance your brother has taken to retrieve you?” He watched her fingers tighten their hold on her cloak.

“Falco is taking a chance? After so much time…why now? Because I made myself known when Sareta was in danger?”

“What is wrong with you?” Cono broke in. “What could he have done? He…we all thought you were dead.”

KELA

 

 

Twiten had returned to the Forbidden Forest. Guilda and Kela had moved back into Blackton Castle, but everything had changed.

There was an excitement in Guilda that Kela had not seen in years. Kela understood readily enough it came with the belief she would soon be reunited with Sareta.

Kela thought she, too, should hold the same exhilaration. Yet, she had none.

We believed you were dead. She could not get the words out of her head. A sadness overwhelmed her.

The years that had divided her from her family, Kela told herself she wanted only to be back with her siblings. Now came the realization, she didn’t know if she fit into their world.

On this trip, Johannes had brought with him the new clothing he had promised. She could not remember wearing anything so soft against her skin.

Before dinner, she had taken a long, fragrant bath with the soaps and lotions he had brought and brushed her hair until it shined. Looking into a mirror, Kela didn’t recognize herself, neither did she feel like herself.

Making her way to the kitchen, she inhaled the aroma of a freshly cooked boar that filled the hallway. Guilda had gone out of her way to prepare a hearty meal.

“Take out the meat,” Guilda instructed. “I have already poured them wine and given them warm bread. Now, go with you.”

Kela picked up the platter. Humming a lively tune, Guilda went back to stirring a pot of greens. Kela walked toward the large dining hall. Sounds of conversations resonated around her.

She stopped, placed the tray on the stone floor, and hurriedly left the castle.

The trail back to the cottage was well worn, but a long walk.

Kela did not care.

She needed to think.

With each step, the sounds of the forest became louder, sounds that Kela took comfort in hearing. A full moon lit her path.

Overhead, a Sordarin flew, his silhouette visible on the ground. Looking up, she wondered who it was. Johannes or Cono? Who needed the night air?

A moment later, the hawkman circled overhead. His wings spread wide in the cloudless sky. Kela was mesmerized when the Sordarin landed before her.

At first, he said nothing. He just stood there: too close, too tall, too handsome.

Cono smiled at her. “Are you heading somewhere?”

“Should you not be at dinner with the others?” Kela asked. “My destination is not your concern. Now, please either go back to the castle or fly away. I have no intention of detaining you.”

“You’re not.” Cono reached over and caressed her cheek.

She recoiled. She had never been touched in that manner for any reason.

“I have waited for this opportunity to talk with you without interference.” He gazed down at her. “You look lovely.”

Her eyes flamed. He was teasing her. She would not have it. She stepped around him. His arm halted her progression.

“You shouldn’t walk unprotected in the dead of night?”

“You don’t know me well,” Kela retorted. “I’m not afraid. Of what? There is no one here to do me harm. Even if there were, why would someone try to harm me?”

“I can think of a few reasons.”

He glanced over her in a way that made color rush to her cheeks. She was happy at least the moonlight was dim enough not to reveal her embarrassment.

She lifted her chin, her shoulders back. “I can take care of myself. I have been well trained.”

“In that, I don’t question.” Cono tilted his head to the side, and then looked upward. “It is a grand night for a flight. Do you not think?”

“I wouldn’t know.”

“Then it is time to find out.”

Without another utterance, he lifted her up in his arms and launched into the sky.

He soared.

Her arms instinctively clutched his neck. He laughed heartily. “It is better than blasting at me, much better.”

At first, she burrowed her face into his chest and closed her eyes. Then, ever so slowly, she opened her eyes.

Oh, the taste of what freedom! Kela was intoxicated in the feeling, the sight, and the remembrance of once before flying high in the sky with the one that held her.

She wanted these feeling to go on forever…for this Sordarin warrior to bring her out of the Forbidden Forest. Instead, he landed upon the cliffs, high above the woods. He released her, leaving her to stand along the edge.

Kela blinked at the moonlit scene below. So tiny! Everything looks so small. Oh, the splendor!

She turned to find him smiling at her. The anger she held only moments before dissipated.

“Thank you,” she whispered. “This is so beautiful.”

“It is,” he agreed. He stepped closer. So close she felt his warm breath upon her neck.

He rounded his arms about her. Embracing her gently, he leaned his head against her. Their eyes locked. Her heart pulsed with his touch. No, it was more. The whole of her body shivered from his proximity.

She pressed her lips together. What am I doing acting like a fool! 

His dark eyes considered her…lured her. Their color deepened. He was muscular, strong, and handsome.

She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t think. It felt like she was drowning when he lowered his head. His lips lightly touched hers. Then kissed her.

For a moment she resisted, but then her mouth opened under his. She was lost, forgetting everything except his lips on hers.

It was a long kiss. When it ended, she took a step back, but he didn’t release her.

“I don’t want you to fall.”

Placing her hands on his arms, she stared up at him. There was no denying Cono evoked a deep feelings within her, but she couldn’t. Guilda’s voice echoed within her. Trust no man!

“Please, let me go,” Kela demanded. “You may do this often, but I refused to be treated so loosely. I may look as though…”

“I have never done this before, nor wanted to with anyone else.” He laughed. “It has been over four years, but I have never forgotten the power that surged through me when you were by my side. I believe it was the same for you.”

“I don’t understand what you are saying.”

“I’m saying I witnessed a Euchoun almost destroy the King’s Wings. One blast when I touched her. It happened again when I fought alongside of her when she helped destroy an Arachnidan leader. I have dreamt of a girl in a mist for years. I have felt a pull toward something I couldn't explain until I saw you fighting off the Hallow Minions. Did you not hear me when I called to you? I did not speak a word, but you heard me. Didn’t you?”

“Perhaps…I heard something…but it means nothing. Guilda says I’m too naïve. I promise you I will not be used. I am loyal to my brother, my king and Scarladin. I know what my purpose is…I will not be deterred.”

“So you shall…with me.”

“With you?”

“Kela, can you not understand? From the beginning, we have been destined to fight side by side. Even though you try to push me away, I know you do not fear me.” He embraced her tighter. “You feel the pull, the call, the same as I. There is no other reason, except that we have been fated to be bonded.”

“Bonded? With you? Impossible…” Her protest faded.

He shook his head. “Kela, you have a power within you that few have seen. If the legend hold to be true, it will be needed. Do you doubt me?”

“I know of no other bonds that find one in another’s arms.”

“In that, I’ll admit I have no answer. I should keep my hands off of you, but, in that also Kela, I feel drawn to you as I have never before. Tell me you don’t feel it also.”

“How am I to compare?”

“Then I take it as a yes. I don’t want you comparing. Not Johannes?”

The question took her by surprise. “He is my friend only.”

“Good. I want your eyes only on me,” he said. “This is good, but beware, Kela. I have not the best of tempers and my patience is non-existent at times. I put nothing in front of my mission. Nothing.”

“Neither do I.”

Cono cupped her face in his hands. “I promise you this…I know we are to fight together, be together, Kela. I don’t know why King Edulf has hidden you for these years, but I do know that we are preparing to go to the Payelaga Desert. I want you there with me.”

“How? Openly flaunting…”

“I have thought of it. Johannes is going with Falco. He can help. I will take you there as my page. We will face our fate together. Then, we will see where it leads. Are you ready to meet your destiny, Kela?”

Cono sounded so confident…so assured.

She answered, “Yes.”

 

Kela’s life changed from that moment. No longer was she alone in the world.

Cono’s words had touched her. Within her, the truth had been made known. Kela had no knowledge of the world outside her existence, but Cono lived within her.

She had not confessed her revelation to Cono. For although she trusted his word, Kela could not chance her heart…not yet.

After Cono made his intentions known, Twiten cautioned Kela. Twiten wasn’t certain of the connection, of which neither she nor Cono held any doubt.

“Cono is a brave, courageous warrior, but he will not be the only one to try to influence you,” Twiten warned, no more than a week after Cono’s declaration.

A week filled with her every waking moment beside Cono. There had been no more kisses or promises made in the dead of night, but Kela read Cono’s commitment in his eyes.

“Is he not the greatest Sordarin warrior?” Kela asked Twiten with assurance that she already knew the answer. “Would it not be logical that I would bond with one such as he? Who else? My brother has bonded with Johannes. Surely, you have to believe I’m to bond.”

“I do not believe that any other can fly, dive or soar as Cono. I will concede his prowess in battle. He is an outstanding fighter, and, I am certain, he could defeat almost anyone in single combat. But he has offended seasoned warriors with his arrogance.”

“I cannot see a problem. How long do you plan to hold me back? You hesitated not with Johannes. Am I not stronger?”

“We cannot make a mistake with you. It could prove fatal.”

“Are you scared, Twiten?” Kela laughed. “Where is your faith in the Great One? You have taught me for well over four years. I know only that Cono feels the same pull as I do.”

“Perchance.” He grimaced. “Pardon my frankness, but the pull you feel has nothing to do with being Euchoun.”

Her eyes flamed, as did her face. “Explain yourself quickly, because I will not be insulted in this manner. I have sacrificed, denied my birthright, to become what I was born to do. Do not question me!”

“It is not you, Kela, I question. You have trained, but in that training you have been sheltered from the world. Cono is an ambitious man. Though, there is not another warrior with the skills he possess. I hold only to your interest.

“Even with your brother, King Edulf has had to tread softly. After your father died, the old traditionalists seemed content with Prince Fenwick as heir. Your grandmother, King Edulf’s first wife, was not well loved. Queen Althea had been a commoner.

“With the rules of lineage, Prince Falco holds the direct line. Make no doubt, Kela, that your brother has had his own difficulties to face, but over time he has emerged from the shadow of your grandfather.

“King Edulf understands one may know how to fight, but not how to rule. How to train a unit of men for battle, but not how to bend a man to his will. The king feels Falco’s course is set to become a great leader.

“But within the court, one has to know that all eyes are upon you. Acknowledge the deeds of the brave, but take care. In a blink of an eye, the brave can turn to an arrogance of believing they, too, have been chosen. There is potential for a clash, pitting you against your own, when we have a greater evil to defeat.”

Confused, Kela stared at Twiten. “What are you telling me, Twiten? That Cono is a traitor?”

“No, I’m saying there are those that hold to their own ambitions, which could be said of Cono.”

Shaking her head, Kela refused to believe it. “I have held my faith to you, Twiten, but in this you are sadly mistaken. I was there when Cono saved Grandfather.”

“My intent is only to caution you.” Twiten pulled at his long gray beard “You are right. Cono has never exhibited any signs of deceit.”

“Cono said he felt the power…the bond…from the first moment we touched,” Kela added.

Twiten nodded. “Perhaps…perhaps. I will think upon it.”

Within the week, it was decided. Twiten acknowledged Kela was bonded with Cono.

Kela was to go with Cono to the battle front.

She had never felt so alive.

 

The royal apartments were in Gold Tower. Kela had never ventured into the massive fortress in the short time she had lived in Yucca, except once. The time she had fought the Arachnida alongside Cono.

Tonight, she had returned, cloaked in darkness.

Twiten had transported her through his portal to his chambers. Within, an inexplicable chill went through her. She was no longer within the boundaries of the Forbidden Forest, freed from her prison.

She was met by two winged guards and another, who brought tears to her eyes—Falco. Her heart swelled.

She wanted nothing more than to embrace her brother, but that would never do, not here. She swallowed any emotions.

She had come back, not as a princess, but as a Euchoun.

There would be no acclamations, no glory in her appearance. King Edulf had given her explicit instruction in allowing her return. Kela was not to be acknowledged.

Disconcerted, Cono was not there to greet her. He had left more than five days before her.

Kela had only to look at her brother to know that nothing was amiss.

Falco had grown into a man since her departure. The glimpses she had of him in the Shimmering Pool had not done him justice. He was dressed richly in a golden brocade laced up doublet and tight black satin breeches. His dark beard was trimmed short, his hair tied back in a queue. Yet, it was his poise that caught her attention.

He carried himself as the Prince he was.

She curtsied.

It is good to see you, Sister. Forgive me for not being more expressive. Know though, my heart sings.

As does mine…does Sareta know?

Not yet, but soon. I will make certain of it.

Cono?

She saw Falco smile at her question.

I will send for him soon. I wanted to see you first. You are well?

I am now.

He frowned. You know I thought you dead. I would have never left you as such.

I know.

Nothing, not even time, had diminished their connection.

Grandfather said it was a necessity. Seeing you protect Sareta, I found myself in agreement. We cannot deny the path we have been destined to follow.

Nor will I.

Twiten stepped between the two. A reminder that they were not alone.

Falco waved his hand, dismissing his guards. “Summon Cono and Johannes,” Falco commanded his guards. Then with a wave of his hand, he dismissed them. He turned to Kela and Twiten, “We have much to discuss.”

Behind her the wooden door opened with a loud thud. Kela breathed out deeply. Cono must have been waiting in the hall. Johannes followed.

Falco gestured to the long table behind them. “Let us begin.”

* * * *

The allure of her adventure had long left Kela.

She had thought the worst of it had been the disagreements between Cono and Falco before she left. She had been wrong.

Only now, she had begun to understand the hardship of her role...to understand why her training had been so harsh.

The plan had been put into place. Kela was to follow Cono into battle as a page. The need for secrecy had placed many restrictions upon her, thrusting her into a dangerous, unknown world.

At first, Kela had been amused at Cono and Falco. The two differed in their views on how to disguise her as a boy.  

There was no argument about her disguise. She was given a loose buttoned brown shirt, breeches, and sandals. She had no need for other clothing. The desert was hot and dry. Her chest was bound.

She wore a large, floppy hat to cover her braided hair, which had been twisted into a bun. That decision had been disputed.

“If this is to work, her hair needs to be cut as the other pages. Short. Over her ears. One burst of wind and all our planning with be for naught!” Falco warned.

“If discovered, it will not expose her for being female. Kela can contend a love for her hair,” Cono countered. “It is not like other pages have not done the same. The Mortalita clan takes pride in the length of their hair. Moreover, if she is discovered to be female, it will be my reputation that will be tainted.”

Her eyes caught Cono’s in thanks. She had never had someone defend her needs, no matter if it was indeed vanity.

Kela had been prepared to cut her hair. Yet, to her shame, the loss of her long hair would have been a great sacrifice.

She had not dreamt of much, but there had been one dream, where she had returned to her family. That she, too, would be acknowledged, dressed in the same finery she had seen in the Shimmering Pool with her hair fashioned as the other ladies of court. Not in the manner of a page!

Yet, there had been a stiff stipulation placed upon her. She had to appear mute and keep her head down.

“Never let one look into your eyes,” Cono cautioned. “Everyone would know they did not belong to a boy.”

It was the last she talked to Cono for over a fortnight.

* * * *

Kela endured the journey to the Payelaga Desert.

For most of the flight, she had leaned against the side walls of the holdgate. Her stomach churned with each sway. A sudden resentment surged through her. How unfair it was for only the males to fly!

Though, in truth, travel for the army was harsh on any that could not fly. Flagons pulled the holdgate through the air, attached to the front and back. It was the quickest way to transport supplies to the units.

Twiten had seen Kela was assigned to a holdgate that was filled with food and livestock. He had warned her. “I have arranged the safest route for you to take, but it is not without its dangers.”

Kela understood. To be accepted into camp without questions, she had to arrive in the same manner as the other pages. She was to go by the name Rolfe. Moreover, she was expected to perform the same task as any other page, which included overseeing the care of the livestock during the flight.

She had not been told of the overwhelming stench or the sweltering heat. Her arms chafed against the binding of her chest when she carried water to the troughs for the cows and goats to drink. Sweat oozed from her every pore.

There was only one other that flew with her. Another page named Siegfried.

Tall and skinny, he was eleven. His father served in the kitchen at the Great Hall, overseeing Siegfried’s appointment at page. A good sort, he seemed eager to please in his attempt to honor his father.

He worked hard. In doing so, he talked, taking no mind that she made no response. “’em whores, ya know, on the other holdgate.” 

She looked at him confused by his words. Whores? They do not battle.

Siegfried must have seen her question. “Are ya a dupe? Warriors need ‘em whores to fuck…ya do know what fuckin’ is?”

Nodding, she lied. Whores, she had heard about the women of questionable reputation. Guilda had said used the word more than once. But fuck, she had never heard that word.

“Well, then ya know how ‘em be. The other pages will be teased and made to wait upon ‘em. I ain’t going to wait upon no whore. ‘em mean and steal anything you have. Rather be shoveling manure.”

Quickly, Kela nodded again.

Yet, she had doubts that riding with the whores wouldn’t have been better. The air was heavy in this container. Moreover, Kela found it hard to breathe. She was filthy, covered in slime and dirt. Her white tunic underneath her jerkin had taken a brown tone.

Never had she been more pleased when she felt the fleogans ease their pace with their descent downward. An eternity later, the holdgate’s door finally opened.

She walked out into the gateway and sucked in the burst of fresh air, hot though it might have been. The camp sat on the edge of the desert. She looked around in wonder.

To the west as far as the eye could see, there was nothing but endless sand. The cloudless sky held a merciless sun. Yet, Kela took comfort in the sight of Sordarins in flight.

In front of her, she saw a city of a thousand tents, the golden banner of the crowned hawk flying over each. The streets were dusty and rutted torn by wheel and hoof, filled by hordes of men. All men.

The encampment’s noise was much like the busy streets in Yucca. At least until the women from the other holdgate emerged. Most were barefoot, wearing little to nothing. Kela gawked at the sight.

A few of the young and pretty ones walked with only a ruffled scarves hanging down around their bellies and tulle used as a semblance of a top. Their breasts, round and full, were seen clearly through the transparent material. They were followed by older, experience women. Yet, there was little difference in their wear.

Abruptly, the men stopped and started to yell vulgar words as they walked by, grapping their groin and making rude facial expressions with their mouths. Burly guards pushed back any that lunged at the provocative females, who giggled and laughed.

“A sample only gentlemen!” a small, lean man yelled. He wasn’t Sordarin, his skin was darkened by the sun. “You know where you can find my ladies.”

“I told ya our ride was better. That’s all they would have done to us. Taunt us for fun.”

Kela turned to Siegfried. His lips tightened, his hands formed a fist. Kela wondered if a whore had made fun of him in the past, but she could not ask. Pulling her large, floppy hat down over her eggs, she shrugged.

“Come, we must find the lord jostler.” Siegfried slapped her back. “His name is Kushner. He is the one that will find us masters to serve.”

The two took no more than a few steps before a voice bellowed for Rolfe. More than once.

Siegfried smacked the top of her head, almost knocking her hat off. “Are deaf as well as mute? Kushner is calling for you.”

Kela nodded, rushing toward the voice.

“Where is that boy? Rolfe!”

It was not hard to spot the lord jostler. He was a large, shirtless man with a belly hanging over his belt. In his hand, he snapped a whip, an insurance for the pages to walk quickly.

Kushner stood at the foot of the street beside a tall, handsome Sordarin—Cono.

Her heart leaped with joy. Calm, yourself. Others are watching.

“Come here, boy.” Kushner swung back his whip. “You have dishonored…”

Kushner got no further. Cono caught the whip. “I’ll take charge of my page.”

“Commander, let me have him for a day or two,” Kushner said. “You will not have any trouble with him…”

Cono shook his head. “No.”

My defender! My protector! Forgetting the strict instructions, she raised her head and met Cono’s eyes.

His eyebrows rose in a reprimanding manner. He frowned.

Immediately, she bowed her head. She had forgotten to show respect!

“I can offer you another,” Kushner pressed. “A young, scrapping lad. Siegfried. He would serve you well.”

“I have what I need.” Cono dismissed the lord jostler. He did not look back, nor did he slow down.

Kela found it difficult to keep up with him. His strides were longer, more assured. She fell behind.

He slowed his pace.

As they walked, Kela heard many acknowledgements to Cono. They were brief encounters. Cono took no time to stop.

She came to one of the larger tents. Holding back the flap, Cono ducked inside. She followed. Only then did she gather the courage to look up. She felt a sudden chill, and gooseflesh pimpled her bare arms.

Cono stood in front of her, hands on hips. She could see the fury in his eyes.

“You can never do that again. Any slip could expose you.”

Words choked in her throat. “I’m sorry…”

“Don’t ever scare me again.” He took her hand and pulled her roughly to him.

He bent to kiss her. She kissed him back, weaving her hand into his hair. She forgot everything: the harsh journey, the whores, Siegfried, and the lord jostler. The only thing that matter was his lips on hers.

Cono lingered on her lips, running his fingers over them. He stared into her eyes.

He mesmerized her.

“I confess I feared for you. Tell me that all went smoothly.”

She nodded for suddenly the hardship was forgotten.

He cupped her face. “I wish everything was different. That we did not have to put up this façade…having you so close within my tent…but we will have to be strong.  We can’t be caught in each other’s arms like this. From now on, I will have to use more caution. There will be no more talks as I’m talking to you now.”

“I know,” Kela said, though certain her eyes betrayed her want to be as she was now.

“I will look after you. Do not doubt, but until we have proven ourselves, I can’t go to…” He paused with a smile. “Outside we will face perils, but there lies a danger within, between the two of us.”

“Guilda has warned me. Of course…” Her voice rose with indignation. “I…know a lady would never find herself in the situation I have placed myself in, but, Cono, tell me how else I can fight by your side? Do you think less of me?”

“No, my Euchoun. Never. I would plunge my dagger into one who questioned. In the way of the world, you are far too innocent, Kela. So…innocent.” His mouth descended down upon hers again. Breaking from her lips, he whispered, “This will not be easy, Kela, for this bond we have— we can’t let others see. Not yet.”

She had no time to answer. The flap of the tent swung open.

Without notice, Falco walked into the tent.

Kela stepped back as had Cono. Kela saw Cono’s jaw tense. Quickly, she surmised Falco was one of a few that would enter in Cono’s tent in this manner.

Her time alone with Cono ended. Her mission had begun.

Sister, there is no time for pleasantries. We have much to discuss.

But of course, Brother.

It was the first time that Kela looked over the place she would lay her head. The tent was spacious. An elongated table with seven chairs sat to the far side. In the middle, a fire pit had been placed for the smoke to go out the top. Yet, it was the one bed that her eyes fixed upon.

Where am I to sleep?

A pallet on the ground.

She shot a look at her brother. She hadn’t meant to ask him the question.

“Are you two holding a conversation?” Cono asked.

“I’m sorry,” Kela apologized. “It is instinct.”

Falco made no apology. “I want only to go over the duties and responsibilities that will be expected.” He looked at Cono. “I don’t suppose I need to remind you of our previous conversation.”

“No, Sire,” Cono said.

“Then let us make this quick.”

Falco took a seat at the table, followed by Cono. Kela stood and listened to what lay ahead for her. Most, she had expected, but her heart soared with the revelation that she was to observe the maneuverings.

“Do not call attention to yourself, but it will be imperative that you learn,” Cono said. “I have a place for you to watch.”

Anticipation excited her.

She was to prepare to fight…to battle alongside of Cono.

 

A routine emerged. Kela worked from sunup to sundown.

At first, it had not come easy. She had been told, but never had experienced the heat. The harsh, unforgiving endless heat drained her energy while she completed tasks. The soles of her feet blistered, the muscles in her arms and back were wracked with pain.

She held firm, never missing any maneuvers.

At night, she supped alone and waited for the time Cono returned. Those were the times Cono taught her about the intricacies of the Sordarins. 

“Total, there are ten thousand Sordarins within the encampment,” Cono said. “Composed of the different clans of Scarladin. Each has their own division. The Challow clans are from the middle region of Sordarin, small, but quick; the Acciptritutes from the north, are muscular and strong. The Mortalita come from the south, known for their strategies and intelligence. It is from the Mortalita clan that King Edulf came.”

The last Cono mentioned was his own. “The Lanka clan are dark-skinned and agile. The fastest fliers. Our camp sits within the Lanka border.”

Kela listened intently, drinking up each detail.

“King Edulf uses each of the clans to their strengths, which makes us stronger as a unit. We fight together. Never as one,” Cono stated.

She watched from a distance. Pride surged forth in her observation of Falco as well. She found that her brother's unpretentious nature and unmistakable courage made him extremely well liked by his men. Yet, none compared, not even Falco, to Cono.

The days wore on. Kela began to feel Cono’s movements in the sky. Meditating, she felt as if she could almost see what he saw while he flew. No, there was no doubt within her that they held a strong bond.

Within the camp, she became like a shadow. She was merely a page, a silent one at that. It allowed her the freedom to observe. Keen observation of their soaring skills was needed to be able to protect her warrior in battle.

She took to the task.

The nights were the hardest. Her will was tested in the coolness of the nocturnal darkness.

She slept on a pallet at the foot of Cono’s bed. She could not resist the temptation to sneak glances of his sculpted muscles on his legs and chests, broad shoulders, and wings. He showed no shame in his body.

He had not tried to kiss or hold her in an embrace since her first day. Yet, he teased Kela often when they were alone, offering to help her with the bindings around her breasts. Her face would flush, lending to strange yearnings she had never experienced. At times, she wanted nothing more than to crawl into his bed.

She had not given in to the impulse, reminding herself that nothing came before the mission.

Nothing.

* * * *

Two weeks passed. Kela still watched. Yet, the strategic maneuvering meant only one thing to her—there was no opportunity to do battle with Cono by her side. There had been no battle to prove their bond.

The only action she had seen had been in her imagination. The waiting, anticipating are surely worse than the fighting would ever be.

Despite the constant skirmishes over a month ago, all had been quiet since her arrival. There had been no sightings of the Arachnidans. The rumors of a stirring calmed.

Evening descended. Kela had returned to the tent to prepare a meal for Cono. Once again, there had been no Arachnidan activity.

Sodden with sweat and sand, Cono returned in a foul mood. He snapped at her soundly when the wine hadn’t been poured in wait for him. Moreover, most nights Falco and Johannes accompanied him, but this night he returned alone.

“Are you, too, questioning your involvement with me?”

Stunned, Kela whirled around to face him. “I question nothing about us, Cono. I never have.”

He shook his head. His wings fluttered in obvious aggravation. He walked over to the edge of his table, banging his hand down so hard the table shook. He sat.

“What is wrong?” She knelt, placing her hands on his knees. “Tell me, Cono. I am not a child.”

He grimaced, taking her hands in his. “Silas has come from the capital. He brings news. King Edulf has reconsidered this approach…our bonding. Silas says that King Edulf believes you need to be exposed to other warriors.”

“No,” she whispered. “He can’t separate us…not now.”

“It is useless, Kela.” His tone bitter. “I have argued to the point where I have been relieved of duty. I have been ordered back to the capital.”

Kela’s expression tightened. “I don’t understand. We haven’t even faced the Arachnidans.”

“You are supposed to report to your brother.” His voice devoid of emotion. “I will take you.”

She shook her head, violently. “No, I won’t go. I will not be separated from you…”

“The orders are not to be questioned,” He added harshly. “King Edulf wants you to be paired with Silas to see if you will bond with your cousin.”

Rising, Kela stumbled backwards. “Never. I’m bonded with you.”

“I hold no doubt of that fact,” Cono said, but he made no movement towards her. “It gives me comfort that you feel as I. I will hold to that. In time, they will see.”

“Don’t leave me,” Kela pleaded. Her words hung in the air.

He said nothing more, but his eyes betrayed his knowledge. He lowered his gaze.

There wasn’t a choice.

He hadn’t a choice, but she refused to be taken from his side. She was not a passive soul, nor would she simply be exchanged from one hand to another like a coin in trade.

She ran out the tent.

Falco, answer me. Tell me this is not so. One cannot undo a bonding!

It is not an undoing, Sister. There was no test done to ensure that in fact you are bonded with Cono as was done with Johannes and myself!

What nonsense do you talk!

Silas told Grandfather that he, too, feels the pull.

Silas? Surely you jest. It is Cono…I will not be taken from him.

Kela, you are a Euchoun. You are born to protect. One cannot dictate their own fate.

I know who I am, Brother, as I know whom I am bonded with! Do not tell me about my destiny.

I’m telling you to calm yourself.

Silas…he is here?

Silence angered Kela. Coward!

Don’t do anything foolish!

Kela stopped and swallowed a lungful of cool night air. It was slow going, not knowing which way to head. She glanced one way, then the other. Where would Prince Silas’s tent be? Close to Falco’s?

Rounding Falco’s tent, she saw Siegfried, carrying a barrel of ale.

“Siegfried! Siegfried!” she cried.

The lad turned to the sound of his name. He gave her a strange look. “Rolfe? You talk?”

How quickly she had forgotten! “Only when necessity dictates,” she said in a deep, hoarse voice. “I need to find Prince Silas’s tent.”

Siegfried nodded his head to the left. “He arrived this morning.”

She saw it now, the one beside Falco’s with two sentries guarding it. Smiling her thanks, Kela left Siegfried staring after her.

Straightway, she decided the best course of action was surprise. The two sentries would never do.

Taking note of two brawny Sordarins walking beside Silas’s tent, she had a plan. With a flick of her hand, she pushed one into the other. The shortest fell, got up and lit into his companion. One more flick had the other sentry falling into the fight.

Kela slid behind the commotion and through the tent curtain. She had gained entrance. Inside, the air was heavy with scents of lavender and sweet lemon.

She moved inside, only to halt abruptly. Silas was directly in front of her…in bed naked with a women. Wide-eyed and shocked, her breath tightened in her throat.

Silas glanced up and smiled. Yet, he said nothing as he ran his hand down between the legs of the woman lying beneath him. She started to moan, begging Silas for more in a low, weak voice.

The woman reminded Kela of the whores on the holdgate. Her long, scarlet hair, fell loose around her face. There was a gold chain about her waist and a multitude of bracelets on her wrists. Her sandals weren’t flat, but had a high stub on the heel with ribbons tied up the calves.

In awe, Kela stood there with her floppy hat low on her head. Silas has a whore! She thought of withdrawing, turning her head, but she couldn’t take her eyes from the sight. Moreover, she refused to be intimidated.

He had seen her…knew it was her…and still continued.

The whore dug her fingers into Silas arms and pulled his face down to her breast. Soft, wet sounds of kissing made Kela want to throw up. Then, in one quick motion, Silas pulled the whore up and rode her from behind. He thrust into her over and over while her breasts dangled downward.

Finally, Silas stopped and slung the woman down on the bed.

“Thank you, Sire,” the woman said. “Would you like...?”

“Be gone for now.” Silas slid off the bed and grabbed a robe off the bed. He walked toward Kela. “Dear cousin, if I had known you were coming, I would have waited. Deila so enjoys company.”

“Put some clothes on, Silas. I have no desire for those antics. You know well why I’m here.”

“Antics?” Silas teased, tying off the belt of his robe. “Not with you, it would not be.”

“Nor will it ever be with me. Tell me now what game are you playing?”

“Temper, temper,” Silas taunted. He walked across the tent and picked up a glass of wine. “Would you like some?”

“I want only to be reunited with Cono.”

For a long moment, he studied her and then, took a large sip of wine. “It is quite simple, Kela. It has been established that you have abilities as a Euchoun that far surpasses others. Scarladin needs you.”

“I need Cono.” She gave him a look of sullen admonition.

“Oh, yes, Cono.” He gave a contrite smile. “He, too, was quite upset. I’m afraid he will have to be disciplined.”

“Am I going to be sent back to the Forbidden Forest?” Kela questioned stiffly. “I am no less guilty.”

He winced. “You did not confront your Prince.”

She stared at Silas in stunned disbelief. “Cono fought with Falco?”

“Silly, girl.” He clutched his heart with fended pain. He walked over in front of her. “Have you forgotten I am your Prince?”

Taking off her hat, he undid her bun. Her braids fell loose. He reached over to touch her face…she thrust her hand forward.

He was tossed back onto the floor.

“Don’t ever touch me,” Kela commanded. “It is you who forget who I am.”

Sobered, he crawled to his feet. “Don’t ever do that again.”

“Don’t ever touch me again.”

Kela regarded him coldly. She wanted nothing more than to dismiss her sly and cunning cousin, leave and never deal with him again. One important fact kept her there. He had the ear of the king.

“Do you truly believe we could bond?” She exhaled deeply. “You know nothing.”

Silas rubbed his head. “Little fool, have you not learned that I want to protect you—you!”

She was lost. “I don’t need protecting from Cono.”

“It is not what I said,” he stated. “King Edulf wanted only to follow the tradition when Euchoun bond. There is a process most follow. Cono is greatly skilled, but if there is no battle to test your strength, who is to say you are not meant to stand alone.”

“I know that Cono and I are bonded.”

“Do you?” He straightened his robe. “Or are you looking for an escape?”

“Escape?”

“From your prison?” He grimaced, stepping over to his wardrobe. He took out pants and put them on in front of Kela.

She turned her head.

“Don’t bother with a false sense of modesty,” he said, slipping on a white tunic. “You are not a delicate flower as most noble born ladies.”  

“I was not raised as such,” she retorted, though her face flamed thinking of the scene she had moments before witnessed. “A tent gives only a false sense of privacy.”

“What would you know of fucking?” He walked over to her side and took her hand, turning it one way then another. “It is not by experience.”

She jerked her hand away from his grasp. So what Silas was doing with the whore was fucking! She forced her thought back to her problem.

“You forget, to play my part in this farce, I have had to act the role of a page,” she said in a low voice. “I have not been sheltered.”

“You should have been,” Silas said staunchly.

His compassion for her shocked Kela. Her flame of anger faded into an ember. She pressed, “Who then is trying to split Cono and I?”

“I will tell you once more,” he contended. “No one, if you are truly bonded. Twiten came to Grandfather…”

“Twiten?”

A sudden screech alarmed Kela. A high echoing cry.

The ground beneath her feet began to tremble.

Her instincts cried something was wrong.

The days and nights she had trained, visualizing the fight with the Arachnidans. When she dreamed, she dreamed of battle. Yet, nothing prepared her for the fear that surged through her.

She raced outside. Her heart beating rapidly.

Warriors had done the same. The pathways teemed with men preparing to fight.

Strong gusts of winds greeted them. Banners snapped; tents tore from their stakes. Warriors jostled each other to strap their swords around their waists. Others pulled their boots; swords were drawn from their scabbards. 

Fly! Fly! Fly! Orders resounded throughout the camp. It was bloody hard to hear. Through the stiff wind, Kela heard a muffled sound— sandstorm.

Around her, men started tying scarves around their faces. Yet, with each attempt to take off Sordarins met a barrier. The winds had picked up.

Her fear dissipated to resolve and determination. Nothing matter except protecting her people.

The ground shook harder, knocking Kela down. Pushing back with her arms, she saw Silas emerge from the tent, armored and sword in hand. He switched his sword to his other hand and reached to help her up.

Raising her hand to protect herself from the wind, she pushed herself up on one knee. A pull…a need called to her.

Closing her eyes, she answered.

She felt herself being sucked into an abyss. The pain was excruciating, and then she was thrown on the sandy ground.

She opened her eyes.

The pain was gone. Furthermore, Cono stood in front of her.

He, too, was fighting the wind.

Blinded by the sand, Kela rose. Blown backward for a moment, she stretched out her right hand and blared a shield. Immediately, those within her protection could move again, including Cono.

“Come, my Euchoun,” he said.

She intertwined her hand in his. Next, he whirled her into his arms and took to the air. She was in flight.

“Hold the shield only for us for a moment.”

Kela obeyed in wait for his order.

“Now, Kela, extend your shield.”

High above the encampment, she flung her hand toward the forcible, westerly wind. Hard gusts beat against her barrier, but she held and widened the shield.

Down below, the warriors took to the sky.

With only the moonlight to guide, she heard commands and wings fluttering. A moment later, her brother was by her side.

Swing your shield to the right, Kela.

For a moment, she doubted her shield would widen that far, but a surge of energy ran through her as the need heightened. From behind her, orders were called out. It was hard to see what was happening.

The sky was filled with Sordarins, swooping down to the ground. From the corner of her eye, she caught sight of Silas gesturing to a band of Sordarin archers.

Arrows flew toward the ground.

Her arms ached. Yet, her shield held, though now the winds had eased. The storm was subsiding as fast as it had sprung up.

“There,” Cono whispered in her ear. “They are coming from below.”

Even from that distance, there was no mistaking the horrid creatures escaping from underground—large, reddish-brown ant-like monsters!

Cono reacted instinctively, furled his wings, and hurled downward with a tremendous thrust. In his arms, Kela dove hard until he pulled up to land on the sands of the desert.

The action broke Kela’s shield, but her attention turned to the shaking ground. Trembling, the land broke apart, hundreds of creatures spilled forth. At first, crouched and then they leapt forward on their back legs, holding weapons of destruction in their claws…

Kela thrust them back. Yet, they still came.

“They are coming from tunnels below. They have to be,” Cono said. “The tunnels can’t be stable, not in this sand…”

She understood what he wanted. Her arms heaved downward. The ground shivered slightly, but little else. Cono rounded her, taking her hand in his.

“Now!”

With his hand in hers, she laced her fingers together. The winds picked up once more, blowing fiercely. Cono refused to let go of her.

Cono helped raise her arms over her head. This time, she plunged her hands downward with a powerful thrust.

The ground shook with a violent force.

Beneath her feet, the earth gave way.

Frantic calls erupted to fly.

She had no time to think, only react. Feeling Cono struggle to fly into the wind, she shielded once more the bombardment of the harsh gusts.

Immediately, the two were back in flight. Cono lifted her high enough to hold back the winds. Down below, the Arachnidans were being picked off easily as their lair had been exposed.

Beside them, Johannes arrived.

“Take her.” Cono handed Kela over to the other Euchoun.

The shield lessened when Cono dove back into battle, but so had the wind.

How long Kela hovered over the battle, she knew not. Dizzy, she refused to give into the blackness. She saw nothing of the battle, determined to focus on the shield.

She knew only when Cono returned.

“Let go! All is finished! The storm is over. The battle won.”

Weakened, she took comfort in her warrior’s arms.

A sudden worry gripped her.

She saw the sun rising over the horizon. She had no hat. Her hair undone, fell in a tangled mess down her back. All will know I am female.

Cono laughed as if he read her thoughts.

She knew nothing else. She was safe in his arms.

Then all went black.

SILAS

 

 

Flies swarmed the bodies littered across the battlefield. The dead and dying lay all around. The stench worsened with each step taken on the bloodstained sand.

Silas’s gaze swept back and forth over the killing ground. He watched his men pick up the dead Arachnidans’ weapons. He himself stepped upon a huge double-bladed battle-axe. Leaning down with his hand still sticky with Arachnidan blood, he gripped it.

Heavy and solid, blood stained the mallet.

He handed the bludgeon killing weapon back to Totus. “See that goes to someone who can use it better than its previous owner.”

“Yes, Sire.”

Silas stopped. He could still hear the screams of the animals and the cries of fear echoing from the encampment as the ground shook beneath them. The crash of metal on metal rang in his ears. Hundreds of arrows whistled through the air at aimless targets.

The Arachnidans had ambushed them at their most vulnerable.

The understanding that their enemy had lured them here for just that reason burned in his soul. It had been he who supported his grandfather’s plan to chase the Arachnidans back to their lands after numerous raids into Scarladin.

Cono had been the only one to express caution at the war council—only Cono had dared. Is it wise to commit so many of us to one area? Each raid disappeared at one spot. Do we not need to ask ourselves why?

In last night’s most desperate hour, Cono had been the one to lead the men to victory in the midst of chaos.

Their most dangerous enemy had intended a strike at the heart of Scarladin.

It had failed. The Arachnidans had been vanquished.

Annihilated.

In a cloak of darkness, the Arachnidans attacked unaware that a powerful Euchoun was within their ranks. Under the Hawk’s golden banner, a Euchoun destroyed them.

With the early morning sun, Silas saw for the first time the magnitude of what Kela had done.

“Impressive victory,” Falco declared, walking toward his cousin with his great hawk helm under his arm. His armor and gloves were sprayed with Arachnidan blood. “I have sent a unit into the tunnel to follow it as far as they can safely travel. We will collapse it afterward.”

Silas nodded. “Grandfather will be proud.”

“There was a moment, I did not foresee such a win,” Falco confessed. “If not for the Euchoun…”

“You need not say more,” Silas said. He waved his hand at Totus. “Go check upon the wounded.”

Waiting until Totus was out of sight, Silas turned to Falco. “I dare not commend the Euchoun until Grandfather acknowledges it is for the best.”

Falco grimaced. “Too many have seen. Not only Sordarins, but Arachnidans as well. We have to imagine a few vanished into the night.”

“It is not me you have to convince, Falco.”

Silas said the words with conviction. He had witnessed Kela’s power. More importantly, he had seen what she had done with Cono by her side.

“What of Cono? What say you now of the one you dismissed so easily?”

Not in the mood for a confrontation, Silas shook his head. “You expect me to simply overlook his defiance.”

“Perhaps you do not understand the pull one has to their Euchoun,” Falco retorted.

“Because I don’t have one.”

“Yes,” Falco stated bluntly. “Surely, you can’t believe that Cono would have ever touched you otherwise. He is a good, loyal soldier. The men believe in him.”

Silas could not argue. “Does it not concern you?”

“I find it comforting,” Falco replied. “How could you not have such a warrior fighting beside us?”

“He would not be the first arrogant commander to try to usurp a ruler. Think of Tarrin.”

Falco recalled Tarrin had a rebellion less than five years ago, which ended in the death of their king and family. “Cono has sworn an oath to serve the House Calledwdele. He will not betray it,” Falco said with certainty. “I hold faith in Cono as I hold faith in you.”

Weary and tired, Silas laughed. “You are that confident in me?”

“Yes,” Falco said simply. “Should I not be?”

“Some may say it is best for the heir apparent to trust no one unwaveringly.”

“Then what kind of leader would I be if I can’t distinguish whom to trust?” Falco challenged. “You are renowned for your service to your brother. Grandfather holds confidence in your judgment. More importantly, you value family loyalty.”

Wanted nothing more than to end this talk, Silas said, “I am loyal to the Crown. In which, I have sworn my allegiance.”

“That I know.” Falco smiled. “I remember our first meeting. I saw the devastation you felt at Axel’s death, the pain when we thought Kela dead, and how seriously you took your responsibility to your bastard daughter. You are a good man, one worthy of my trust.”

Silas looked at Falco. He clasped his cousin’s back, repeating the Calledwdele oath. “Our country, our king, our life.”

Above their heads, Sordarins circled. Their screeches announced the arrival of King Edulf. Their conversation had come to an end.

Prince Silas watched Falco rushed to greet their grandfather, anxious to convey the complete and utter victory. Silas would play his part.

Silas had done so since the night the Euchoun had been stealthily shuttled out of Yucca. He was the epitome of a true knight through and through. He had, as he had sworn, done as ordered…and her eyes haunted him every night. 

* * * *

King Edulf strolled through the battlefield with Falco on his right and Silas on his left. Immediate behind them, Lord Lothar followed and observed the devastation the Euchoun caused.

A large crater remained where the tunnels collapsed. There had been no attempt to dig out any of the causalities. The sand was not stable.

The king was pleased. More so than Silas had ever seen. It was good to see. King Edulf was not often satisfied. Even still, the king had questions.

“Why were we taken by surprise?” King Edulf’s request hung in the air.

“Our scouts cannot see underground, Grandfather,” Silas said finally. “It was unavoidable. A unit followed the tunnels twenty miles to the Stone Hills. There was no way to have foreseen the attack.”

“That is debatable,” King Edulf directed his words toward Silas.

“We have since destroyed them,” Falco added.

Pivoting on his heel, King Edulf stopped. “How many did we lose?”

“We don’t have the final count. Presently, we have lost twenty-five warriors, another fifty injured,” Falco continued. “The Arachnidans lost three thousand. Twenty-five hundred in battle, another five hundred by suicide. Arachnidans do not take well to captivity.”

“We did manage to contain seventy-five,” Silas finished for Falco. “They can be interrogate at will.”

“So they shall be.” King Edulf rubbed his stubble chin in deep thought. “The Euchoun performed well against the Arachnidan.”

“Cono was by her side,” Falco said proudly. “Never have I ever seen such power.”

“I want you to report all you saw to the High Council,” King Edulf told Falco. “I ask only that you do not reveal the name of your sister. That needs to still remain a secret. What needs to be known is that a Euchoun lives…a Euchoun that will defend Scarladin.”

“Yes, Grandfather.” Falco bowed his head and withdrew.

Silas watched Falco talk with Lord Lothar. Lord Lothar looked to King Edulf nodded and proceeded to camp with the prince.

Turning back to his grandfather, Silas found King Edulf’s eyes upon him.

“Tell what you witnessed.”

Silas wasn’t surprised at the command. Over the last month, he had talked many hours with his grandfather about Kela.

Unlike his father, Silas had the confidence of the king. Even when King Edulf had given him the most heinous of task, he had never questioned the order.

After Kela exposed herself saving her sister, he had realized that Kela needed to be brought home. He was a student of history. Never in his studies had he known a Euchoun kept from their warrior.

For the first time, he disagreed with his grandfather. Their conversations had become heated.

“A Euchoun belongs with their warrior. She has been separated long enough from Cono,” Silas asserted.

“You know she can never be acknowledged,” King Edulf countered.

“She doesn’t have to be,” Silas maintained.

Silas wasn’t certain his grandfather had listened. His grandfather had his reasons for hiding Kela. Silas felt the reasons were justified, but there was something he felt his grandfather was keeping from him.

“I’m certain, you have heard all the details,” Silas said. “What more do you need?”

“It is obvious you are still irritated with me,” King Edulf rightly observed. “You should be happy that you were right.”

“I told Kela that it was Twiten that caused Cono to be called back to Yucca. I lied.” Silas frowned. The way I treated her, guilt should riddle me…but I have none.

“Your words held truth. Twiten has reservations about Cono. He says Cono has a loyal heart, but there is something within Cono he cannot read,” King Edulf gestured to the dead Arachnidans. “Now, though, there is no doubt the two are bonded.”

“None. She had come to me before the attack. When the need arose, she transported to Cono.” Silas relayed the scene. “She disappeared right in front of me.”

“That I have never seen,” King Edulf said. “Tell me more.”

“She is like no Euchoun I have ever known. I have only read about the great ones. We were taken completely by surprise in the midst of a sandstorm. The camp was in chaos. Yet, she reacted quickly and precisely.

“She shielded the camp from the wind…at one time, the whole of the camp, which allowed the warriors to take to the air. The Arachnidans were pouring up from the ground. The next I heard was the roar of the ground collapsing. Kela had blasted the ground which trapped hundreds upon hundreds of Arachnidans.

“Cono gave her over at that point to Falco’s Euchoun. Cono attacked the remaining Astris with a fierceness I have rarely seen.”

“A lingering effect from his Euchoun.”

Silas stopped and studied his grandfather. His jaw was fixed firm, but the lines around his eyes had eased.

If Silas didn’t know better, he would have thought his grandfather proud of Kela. He said, “You talk like you have seen this before.”

“You forget I was lived through the Arachnidan Terror. We would not have won without my Euchoun.”

He pressed the king. “Grandfather, I understand why Kela had to be hidden from all eyes…why you can’t claim her as your granddaughter. But why try to keep her from Cono?”

“It truly would have been for the best if she stood on her own, not depending on Cono for her great strength.” King Edulf told him. “Perhaps I honestly didn’t want her to be a Euchoun. I know the life that she must live. The heartache.”

Silas looked at his grandfather strangely. He cares for Kela.

King Edulf must have seen the confusion in Silas. He placed his hand on Silas’s shoulder. “Out of all my grandchildren, you know me best. Truly, I see myself in you. But you do not know everything. Far from it.”

“What does that mean?”

“You want to know how I know so much about Euchouns. Why I’m not shocked that my own granddaughter is one and is so unearthly powerful.” He paused, looking over the battlefield. “I know for her grandmother was one— Althea was my Euchoun.”

KELA

 

 

Kela woke in a strange chamber. The stones of the walls told her quickly she was within a castle, exactly where—she didn’t know.

Slowly, she edged upward off the soft mattress on which she lay. She realized her welfare had been attended to, but little else.

The room was as she had never known. It was large and had hanging tapestries of flying Sordarins in battle flowing down the sides of the walls. A fire blazed in the hearth alongside of glass double doors, which opened to a great balcony.

Washed and dressed in a misty gown of pale silk, she loved the feel of the silky material against her skin. Her hair hung long down her back, brushed to a shine.

She eased down onto the thick rug. For a moment, she clung to the bedpost. She was dizzy, her head hurt. Her arms ached.

“Take care.”

Kela turned to the sound of the voice.

Twiten walked into the room, smiling broadly. She could not remember Twiten ever smiling.

“Where am I?” she asked in a low, crackled voice.

“At Hovoamia, King Edulf’s manor in Lanka, the farthest east point of Scarladin. It was the closest to the Payelaga Desert. You were flown here when the battle was over. You have slept for well over five days.”

She looked up at Twiten, waiting with expectation. Holding her breath for a word, a sign, the least a hint of satisfaction.

He pressed his lips together tightly, carefully considering his words. “King Edulf has acknowledged your bond with Cono and is persuaded that the actions of the other night has deemed well for Scarladin. The Arachnidans attacked with the desert storm at the most inopportune time. It seems evident that they had waited until such an opportunity. If not for your actions, the whole of the army would have been wiped out.”

“What of your objections?”

“Without question, I find that my misgivings were unfounded and unquestionably you are stronger, much stronger, with Cono by your side. Do you realize what you have done?”

“No, I reacted only,” she answered honestly. She moved out to the balcony. Twiten walked behind her.

Gripping the railing, her breath was taken away. The balcony towered over the grounds of the manor. She saw everything; an array of gardens, the wings of the manor, and the people coming and going from the hall.

She took a deep breath. The air was brisk and clean. Much needed to settle her stomach and mind.

“The reach of your shield exceed any expectation, Kela. The magnitude of the thrust on the ground crumbled the earth, crushing those within the tunnels and allowed the other Arachnidans to be picked off with ease,” Twiten said, standing behind her. “There are still questions. To do so, without training alongside Cono, King Edulf feels that your bond is instinctual. It does not need to be reinforced but will, when together, protect.”

Confused, she turned back to the wizard. “I don’t understand.”

“I believe it will be for King Edulf to tell you what he has planned, but he is happy, extremely so.”

Her heart raced. “Then I can return? I can be acknowledged once more?”

“I am certain King Edulf has a plan.”

Her heart burst with joy. “And Cono?”

“It is not for me to say, but if it was, I would not separate the two of you.”

“Where is Cono?”

“I expect he will be here within the day,” Twiten said. “He has sent messages for you. I have told him you hadn’t awakened, but seemed in good health…and was in good hands. He seems to care for you deeply. It is good. Is it not?”

She turned back to Twiten, astonished by his words. “Truly,” she admitted. “I want nothing more.”

* * * *

Shortly after Twiten left, Turstan burst into her room. After making sure she was whole, he gleamed with pride and had her recite the entire venture. He told her that rumors abounded about her performance.

Though, it was not glory that she desired. King Edulf had not promised to confirm her existence, which she found strange. She cared only if she left the Forbidden Forest and took her place that her birthright demanded.

“Falco has no knowledge that you knew I lived.”

“I told him after he discovered the news,” Turstan confessed. “He understands I had no choice but to keep the secret. Your life depended upon it.”

“You could have told me why I had no contact with my siblings.”

“If I had, you would not have been able to keep quiet. You would have found a way to let Falco and Sareta you lived. If that had happened, you would not even have had I.”

She nodded, not wanting to admit the truth in his words.

“Alas, I wish things had been different, but I hold faith in King Edulf.” Turstan’s eyes gleamed with the light of a brightly burning fire. “King Edulf is a wise man. He will recall you when it is deemed best for Scarladin. Remember, my child, it is the life of a Euchoun, of a warrior.”

Kela frowned. “Do you not believe I will return? Pray, what will you have me do? Stay in the forest forever?”

“Nay, Kela, but within the forest…,” his voice faltered, but his meaning clear.

Her eyes welled at his response. Turstan’s, her warrior guardian, the hard-hearted soul, concern lay not with the welfare of Scarladin. His worry lay with her.

In that, she found comfort.

She kissed his cheek and wiped his eyes, which watered.

She sat beside him with his arm about her. She lay her head on his large shoulder.

There she sat until he took his leave.

* * * *

It was here Kela was finally able to reunite with Sareta.

Her heart surged when she finally got to embrace her sister.

Sareta had come to Hovoamia in celebration of the great victory at the Battle of Payelaga. The whole of the court had come.

Her sister had been accompanied by Guilda. In which, Kela found she took heart. She had found she had become quite sentimental about her old nurse. Though, Sareta had told her that no one else at Hovoamia knew of her presence, she believed, in time, it would be announced.

Kela recovered rapidly and greatly enjoyed Sareta’s visits.

Her hopes ran high that she would be able to start her new life. She waited impatiently for Cono, but said nothing to Sareta of her feelings.

Sareta said the news of the battle had traveled quickly throughout the realm. Cono’s actions were being sung in praise. Her sister talked excitedly, but seemed to have no idea of the role Kela had in the battle.

For some reason unknown, Sareta thought Kela would take heart in the fact she felt Cono had a connection to their cousin, Amicia. Sareta’s words exhaled admiration for Amicia’s beloved, which annoyed Kela to no end.

“Belasquita would not consider a great warrior as Cono for her attached, only a prince or a king will do for her. Amicia cares only that it is Cono. Is that not most romantic? To have a love so deep.”

“Is it returned? Has Cono spoken those words to Amicia?” Kela’s voice rose higher than she intended.

“Why no! Kela, of what do you speak? No lady can be alone with a suitor or any man before they are attached. It is not done. Her reputation…” Sareta looked shocked.

Seeing Kela’s expression, Sareta leaned over to her. “You are different, sister. You are a warrior yourself. Why look at yourself! When you returned as you did, you were dressed as a boy, dirty and filthy! If not for Guilda and myself, you would still be dressed in that dreadful tunic and shirt.”

Sareta smiled quite prettily. “I imagine that you would be upset. Belasquita’s attachment soon to be announced. Since you are the eldest sister to the heir apparent, it should have been you to marry the Prince of Brixtone.”

Kela studied her frivolous younger sister. Has she no idea I care not for who Belasquita marries. Does she not understand the magnitude of what had been accomplished? More so than any frivolous talk of illogical matches!

She drew in a deep breath so not to say the words on her lips. Sareta is a child. She doesn’t know the world as I do. Cono loves me. He could be with no other, nor I could be with any other than he.

Cono had no need for another princess.

No, we are one...bonded forever.

 

In the still of the night, Kela found no peace. Sareta’s words haunted her. I can deal with all around me as long as I have Cono by my side.

Yet, in the cold night’s air, Cono was not with her.

Music resonated down below.

When the celebration began, she had watched from the balcony. Lights lit up the manor. Laughter and chatter echoed throughout her chamber.

Doubts had been kindled within her. Should I not be there beside Cono? Instead, she lay alone in bed.

Unable to sleep, she rose. Once more, Kela found herself staring out over the balcony. Above her, Sordarins were in flight on patrol so everyone could enjoy the party without worry.

A shadow emerged, softly diffusing the moonlight. She stepped back as the warrior circled. A moment later, he landed.

Cono had come back to her.

Creating whispers of moving air, he walked towards her.

All doubts vanished.

“My lovely Euchoun.” His voice was very low, but he met her gaze. “I have thought of nothing else since that night and have worried endlessly that you spent too much energy.”

“I have recovered,” she said softly.

“It is all I need to know.”

Staring at him, a sudden panic swept through her. Down below, the women were all dressed in their finery. She wore only a simple gown with no jewels to adorn her. Her hair was not in a fashionable twist, but hung long down her back.

She was no grand lady—only a Euchoun—only herself as she was.

Her fear was groundless.

He seized her, crushing her to him. Gone was any pretense of gentleness. He kissed her with a need that met her own.

She lost herself.

Her arms came up around his neck and held him fiercely. She shuddered as his lips traveled down her neck.

She forgot about everything but Cono.

“All the nights with you at the foot of my bed were torture.” His deep voice vibrated in her ear. “Tonight, there will be no barrier.”

“You are not going to the celebration?”

“I have made an appearance. None will miss me.” He paused, pushing an errant hair strand out of her face. “Would you prefer me to leave and let you rest?”

“No. Don’t leave me.”

He stared at her for a long moment. “Then let us leave tomorrow for tomorrow.”

Perplex, she hadn’t a clue of his meaning. He smiled at her confusion.

“No one knows we are here together. Alone. We won’t have this freedom for many days to come. There will be demands made upon us. King Edulf, Prince Falco…”

His words hung in the air. He picked her up.

She should have been ashamed when he pulled her nightgown off. At the least, admonished him soundly. A lady would never accept such behavior.

Yet, she trembled in his arms.

Laying her down on the bed, he gave her no more chance to think. His mouth came down hard upon hers, releasing a yearning within him as her own exploded.

He ravished her. His lips moved from her lips, down to nape of her neck, and ran a hand slowly down her leg. His hands went to her breasts, circling her nipples until they tingled. He played with them, pinched them between thumb and forefinger.

Flushed and breathless, she was afraid. Guilda had told her tales of fallen women, who gave themselves to men. Had she not seen the whores in the Payelaga Desert? Had she not witnessed Silas fuck one? 

She may have been ignorant of the world, but alarm fled through her.

With her hesitation, he stopped.

“I will not know you completely tonight, Kela, but this I know, as do you. We are meant to be together. In my heart I feel it. I want no other but you. You are mine as I am yours. I will never hurt you, but will protect you forever. Tell me you don’t want me to stop because you want me as I want you.”

She would not deny Cono. “I want nothing more.”

“Trust me,” he whispered.

His wings covered them both, his head lowered. He suckled her breast for a long time, shocking her with the pleasure he gave. Sensations piled on one another.

His mouth teased her while he moved his hand over her flat stomach down to the wetness between her thighs. He stroked her, prodded her to respond.

She did.

Stunned, her body exploded with a cascade of sensations. Then, inexplicably, he released her and touched her no more.

Her body’s pleasure eased.

She opened her eyes to find him smiling down on her.

“I went farther than I intended,” he said, furling his wings. He moved quietly to the edge of the bed so he could find comfort on his side as his wings rested off the bed.

He bent down and brought up the covers around them. His arm rounded her.

She stared at him. Shame filled her, lying naked in his arms.

“Kela, don’t.” He read her mind. “I should have never taken advantage of you as I did, but…to all the saints…I could not contain myself. Take comfort your innocence is still intact,” he said gently. “Barely perhaps.”

“I…” She searched for words. She wanted to say I loved you, for her heart swelled with emotion, but he had not said the words to her.

“You will not have to worry about my intentions after tonight.” He leaned down and kissed her lips. “I am to ask King Edulf for your hand in marriage in the morning.”

“You want to marry me?”

“I love you, Kela,” he answered. “Be prepared, though. I don’t know if you will ever be acknowledged as King Edulf’s granddaughter.”

The words hurt her. The dream of being recognized for who she truly was would be lost. Yet, before her was the man she loved.

“I need only you.”

He held her until the morning light. They talked the night away. He talked to her of his life: the battle, his home, his grandparents, his mother’s family, Scarladin… At some point in the night, they slept for a time. When she opened her eyes, his were on hers.

“Kela,” he uttered her name as if it was sacred. “This is what I dream of—waking with you, knowing you are mine…”

“Always,” she finished for him.

“Always,” he promised.

* * * *

Cono had no qualms about his presence in the morning light. He played her maid, dressing her in a manner that no one would suspect she had spent the night in his arms.

He even took to her hair, brushing, braiding, and twisting back into a bun.

Kela laughed joyfully. She was happy, truly happy.

With the greatest reluctance, he flew off when footsteps resounded outside the door. For a brief moment, she thought he was going to stay, but he kissed her quickly and took to the air.

She stood on the balcony when Twiten walked in with Guilda.

Eying the sky before she turned to greet her visitors, Kela stayed within the spot Cono had kissed her. Her face, no doubt, beamed her happiness.

It could not fail to do so, but then she saw Guilda’s expression.

Immediately, she knew they brought news, news that had upset Guilda and in turn, Kela comprehended, would herself.

Cono

 

 

Cono soared high up in the heavens. Exhilarated, he dove down through the clouds along the mountain cliffs and back to the Lonhist River near Hovoamia Manor.

The battle had been won.

More importantly—Kela was his.

Last evening, Cono had been honored at the celebration. King Edulf commended him for his bravery, giving Cono the courage to ask for an audience with the king.

King Edulf had granted him permission this morning.

The frustration and stress before the battle had been forgotten as well as the ill-thought out confrontation with Silas. The Prince had chosen to overlook the outburst.

A severe retribution for the hero of the Battle of Payelaga would have been most difficult. Cono realized he was well-respected by his men. Moreover, his bond with the most powerful Euchoun Scarladin had ever seen could not quickly be dismissed.

Yet, Cono was not foolish enough to believe it would be forgotten.

In that, Cono regretted. He had long served alongside Prince Silas.

With the early morning dew gleaming on manicured lawn of Hovoamia Manor, Cono landed outside at the steps to the entrance.

Hovoamia was a small castle, but a lovely one. The doors of the manor rarely opened to the royal court, but served as a retreat for King Edulf. Despite its close proximity to the border, Hovoamia was an idyllic place for hunting and fishing. The woods were filled with antelopes, boar, and tigers.

“Lord Commander,” one of the door sentries greeted him. “Lord Lothar has requested your presence.”

His grandfather! Cono grimaced. Without doubt, his grandfather knew the reason for his audience with the king.

Walking into the open foyer, Cono nodded in acknowledgement. The entrance was drawn in a large circular pattern. Towards the back, there was a wide staircase, but seldom did any Sordarin use.

Neither did Cono.

Knowing exactly where he would find his grandfather, he flew to the balcony on the second floor and walked down to the king’s apartments. Once more, he was allowed entrance.

Through the high wide windows of the vast drawing room, the light of the morning spilled across the floor. The walls were covered with hunting tapestries, vivid colors made scenes come to life.

His grandfather waited for him alone.

“Blessed morning, Lord Lothar.” Cono bowed his head in greeting.

Lord Lothar was dressed in traditional wear of the Lanka clan, a colorful, loose-fitting ornate V-neck shirt. A reminder of his roots.

His grandfather wasted no words. “Cono, you did not stay long at the celebration last night…given in your honor.”

“It was unavoidable,” Cono replied. “There was a matter I had to address.”

“As I know,” Lothar contended. “You were seen flying off from the tower this morning.”

“You have spies upon me?”

“King Edulf,” Lothar said simply. “You realize I know about your Euchoun.”

Cono’s mouth grew tight. “Then you know what I came to ask the king,” he said.

“Be careful the path you tread,” Lothar cautioned.

“Have I not honored our name?”

“Cono,” Lothar admonished. “It is not the valor on the battlefield. It is the Euchoun.”

Ignoring the warning, Cono said, “I love her…”

Lothar shook his head in disgust. “Fight with her all you want. Kill all the damn Arachnidans! By all that is good, do not marry her.”

“I won’t give an oath that I cannot keep, Grandfather,” Cono said. “Kela and I share a bond.”

“Son, do not be your father. Your grandmother cannot take another mark upon our name.”

Cono winced. “Grandfather, everything I have done, I have done for family, duty, and honor. What you ask would dishonor our name.”

“Why?” Lothar challenged. “For she was born a Calledwdele?” He grabbed Cono’s arm. “Think, my grandson. Why would King Edulf allow the match to happen? Would it gain you the honor you deserve? No.”

“What are you saying?”

Lothar pulled Cono closer for only his ears to hear. “The girl can never be acknowledged for her birth. King Edulf went to extreme measures to hide her existence. If she rose from the dead, she would not be yours.”

“So be it,” Cono said. “I care not.”

“Truly? Scarladin’s greatest warrior can never bring his wife to court…his children. ” Lothar lifted an eyebrow. “Your grandmother has already reached out in interest to Lord Leiham. His daughter, Agatha, is most beautiful. There again last night, Princess Iris indicated to Lady Faileuba that she would not be opposed to a match between her daughter, Amicia and yourself.”  Lothar released Cono’s arm. “There are other ways to have the Euchoun by your side.”

“I would never do so to her.”

“Perhaps not,” Lothar said. “I beg you only to think. You need not make a rash decision this day. King Edulf is sending the Euchoun back to the Forbidden Forest.”

Stunned, Cono stepped back. “He cannot.”

The door to the king’s chambers burst open. King Edulf entered without announcement. His cloak caught upon his wing. His crown crooked on his head. His face reddened; his eyes flamed.

“The audacity of the man! I want nothing more than to run him though.”

Cono bowed. “Tell me who and I will gladly oblige, Your Highness.”

The King’s fingers gripped into a fist extended. He pointed toward the window. “Prince de Flour.”

Moving to the window, Cono caught sight of the king’s frustration. Prince de Flour was strolling with Belasquita around the gardens.

“The knave showed up last night uninvited,” King Edulf declared. “Then, this morning he demands to keep our arrangement. He knows. Hellsbound! He knows she lives!”

Cono’s throat went dry. “What would you have me to do?”

“Convince my stubborn Euchoun to return to the Forbidden Forest without delay.”

* * * *

Forthwith, Cono rushed to Kela’s chamber. He entered through the balcony. Kela cried out when she saw him and embraced him fiercely.

“This is not my decision, Lord Commander,” Twiten said, stepping into front of the others in the crowded room. “King Edulf…”

“I know what King Edulf demands,” Cono interrupted. “I need only a moment with my Euchoun.”

He felt all eyes upon him, there were many.

He saw the old nurse had been weeping with the order to return. Not surprising. She was once more ripped from her beloved Sareta, who stood beside her nanny.

The young princess looked astonished that he had boldly laid his arm about her sister’s waist. He did not care much for the girl. She was young, spoiled, and carefree. She had none of the worries of the world weighing down upon her. She had only the issues in front of a princess, wrapped in the security of the protection around her, which he found ironic. It was said her own magic far exceed those that protected her.

Cono bowed toward Falco, who walked up to him.

“I have tried to tell my sister not to act irrationally,” Falco said. “This means only we need to better prepare for her return.”

“She will go.” Cono said the words with certainty.

He took Kela’s hand and led her out to the balcony, shielding her with his expanded wings. He cupped her face with his hands.

“If I thought this was wrong, I would fly you away from this place,” he said. “But it is not. This is not a punishment, but a biding of time.”

She searched his eyes with tears welling in her own. “I thought I was to see King Edulf,” she said. “Why would he not want to see me?”

“It would not be wise at this moment,” Cono said. “Trust me. Trust your brother.”

She caressed his cheek. “I will go,” she conceded in reluctant submission.

He took her hand in his, kissing it softly. “Wait only until the day the moon sits on the blue centar. If the king doesn't recall you by this day, I will come to you myself.”

Drawing her into his arms, he kissed her, a long yearning kiss, sealed with the promise of tomorrow.

“It is time.”

Twiten stood with the portal swirling beside him.

With the greatest difficulty, Cono released her to the wizard.

The next moment, he watched his Euchoun walked through the portal beside her nurse and Twiten. She vanished from his sight.

Her last words resonated within him.

“I will wait.”

 

The Legend Continues…

 

Nottesdone

 

Part of Siochanta Realm- Situated on the coast of Scarladin

 

Prince Mithelk- heir apparent to the crown of Scardalin

Princess Eufamia- wife of Mithelk, daughter to the King of Witheleghe

 

Children:

Prince Falco- brother

Princess Kela- heroine

Princess Sareta-sister

 

Guilda- Witheleghean nurse

Turstan- Sordarin warrior – guardian to the children

 

Ser Robart Dyer- master of ministry for Prince Mithelk

 

Endless Sea: by Nottesdone

 

Mount Zorenje

 

 

Witheleghe Realm

 

Worship: Elohim

 

Troms- capital of Witheleghe

            Temple of Etar

            Vana Gardens

 

Dyrdahl Flandigana- First King of Witheleghe

 

King Darius

Queen Odelia

 

Two daughters:

Princess Azure- married to Thardalf Reishus

Princess- Lady Eufamia Laetitia Calledwdele

 

Two sons:

Prince Halmir

Prince Staffon

Prince Halmir

 

Alric of House Sexton-

Home: Arch of Garten

Squire to Prince Halmir

 

Brothers:

              Cinead

              Diarmid

              Ewan

 

Dirk of House Dullam

 

Kororia Castle

Kororia Lake

Rangi- city of twelve crystal towers

 

Cayce — Vale

Tuatahi Temple

 

Refuges hid at Wahi Tapu (ancient temple)— Now called Tuhinga O Mua

 

Dwarves- Nevan and Phiala own Gypsumbasher Tavern in Tuhinga O Mua

 

Land of Elves— Garden of Ninfa

Migrated to Briar Fuana

 

Elf Council: Sisters

Sae

Bae

 

Prince Yarro- Fairy prince

Brokk of Ironwell- Dwarf- home Venmara

Sangrey- Tollin- seer

 

Mangana

 

Seilda the Tvopac

 

Venmara

 

Arachnida Realm

 

Asmeodai – evil wizard

 

Cyaika- Asmeodai’s mate

 

Night Raiders

 

Sawamdai- Arachnidan scorpion

Astri-  Arachnidan ants

Payelaga Desert

 

Tharon Desert

 

 

Siochanta Realm

 

Scarladin:

 

Capital: Yucca

             The Great Hall

              Torini, Black Tower- prison

              Royal Garden

              Sundaze Fountain

              Wystan Keep

              Collewihr Holdfast- king’s apartment

 

 

 

King Edulf Calledwdele

Queen Althea (died)

                       Child—Mithelk- Heir apparent died the night Nottesdone fell

Queen Beatrix

 

Children:

                Fenwick

                            Wife- Lady Dogmar

                Children:

                        Axel

                        Silas

                        Belequista

Iris

     Husband- Archibaldus, Lord of Runswick

     Children:

      Amicia

      Twins: Wymarcha and Cinara

 

Scarladin color- Gold and brown- sigil- Crowned Hawk

 

 

 

Cono: hero

 

Grandparents

                   Lord Sergius Lothar- Maester of

                   Lady Faileuba.

Parents

                   Pers

                   Crestiana- from the Royal House of Brixtone

 

Cassie- Kela’s friend in Yucca

Ivy- Cassie’s sister

Magge- Cassie’s mother

 

Worship: the Great One

 

The Forbidden Forest— Kela is sent to train

Wood Spirit — Daigh

 

Twiten- last wizard of Narteria

Johannes- Falco’s Euchoun

 

Scarladin Clans:

Acciptritutes Clan

Challow Clan

Mortalita Clan

Lanka Clan

Osmolado

 

Earl Marshal- head of the Citadel

 

Citadel- military school for Sordarins

 

Kingdom of Brixtone:

King Gregorius de Folur

Prince Pieter de Folur

 

Lord Falk…Gregorius advisor

 

              Helvetet, the Valley of Hell, (Uddes, the inhabitants of the region)

              The Black Forest

 

Blue- sigil- Roaring Lion

 

 

Kingdom of Azmarion- King Niska

                                         Laylah-daughter

 

Kingdom of Tarrin

 

Bittervale

 

 

BATTLES

 

The Reckoning—end of the Five Hundred Years War

Arachnidan Terror— Asmeodai’s war with Scarladin and Witheleghe

The Darkening—Asmeodai conquest of Witheleghe

The Battle of Payelaga Desert

THE THREE REALMS

 

 

Past of Shadows, Book One

The Path Now Turned, Book Two~ Coming Soon

Vision of Destiny, Book Three~ Coming Soon

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