The Broken Bow

by C D Beaudin

  It’s not that she wanted to lie, but would her cousin like her if she was herself? Being depressed isn’t exactly charming.

  Though, her body is still sensitive from the strain and suffering she went through, she couldn’t stand staying in that bed a moment longer. She needs to move, to explore. A palace this big must have a few secrets.

  It’s bigger than the one at Kevah, and its green marble casts different colored shadows that make Awyn wonder about the mysteries and what’s hidden in the castle. Secret rooms, perhaps? It’s childish, she knows, but she adores times such as these, when she can let the nine-year-old walk free.

  At least, what’s left of her.

  “You are supposed to be in bed.”

  Awyn turns at the voice, half-expecting Aradon to walk up beside her. But it’s only Kepp. He has changed into a red, short sleeved tunic, brown pants, and black boots. His hair has been cut once again, messy as usual.

  “We all should be. And Saine in a grave after what he’s been through.” Her eyes scan to his chin. “I see you kept your beard.” Awyn points at his jawline. It isn’t much, but it’s enough to notice.

  He scratches it. “I thought it suited me. Besides, when I see Eldowyn again, he’ll be impressed.”

  Awyn chuckles, the sarcasm in her brother’s voice a joy. She smiles as they walk on.

  “Well, I want to see him again too. It’s odd, I’ve always wanted a brother. Neodyn could never be one since there was always the possibility of us being married.”

  “I just want to see him again.” Kepp stops.

  Awyn turns to face him. “You will. We will.”

  Kepp sighs. “I certainly hope you’re right. I never apologized for trying to kill him.”

  Awyn puts a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sure Eldowyn knows. Family always forgives, no matter what they say.” Her eyes narrow. “Well, perhaps not always.”

  She smiles tightly and walks off.

  The cart rumbles down the path. Eldowyn and Hagard jolt as Aradon drives furiously on the bumpy road. The galloping horses’ hooves thunder as they escape the army of Trads behind them. But Aradon can feel the horse start to slow down. He’s been at a gallop for too long now, and he’s bound to stop.

  “Eldowyn, how are we looking? This guy can’t go much longer,” Aradon yells back to them.

  “Osore is only a few more miles. Keep him going at this pace and we’ll make it, the army is slowing,” Eldowyn calls back.

  Up ahead the Triadons stand. Their monstrous bodies tower high above the grass, gigantic beasts, as tall as a large pine tree. Their gray skin, and long trunks almost reach the ground. A smaller, sharp, yellowish curved tusk scoops between their eyes, growing from their forehead, like a disfigured unicorn of legend. Their large ears and thin tails with a small tuft of straight hair at the end flap around, swatting at the air.

  “Whoa, dey are huge!” Hagard exclaims.

  The road fades into grass as they enter the Triadons’ breeding grounds and ancestral home. The long yellow-red grass rises to the top of the wagon’s sides.

  Aradon stops the cart. “Okay, now run like mad!”

  He jumps off, and Eldowyn and Hagard follow, running through the tall grass. Their heads barely peak through the tops, so they won’t be able to see them as long as they keep low.

  “Hagard. Eldowyn,” Aradon whispers.

  The grass ruffles, and Eldowyn and Hagard run out, bumping into Aradon. They stumble for a moment but get themselves straightened up. Hagard picks the grass out of his hair.

  “Sorry. Me balance is a bit off since dey cut off me beard.”

  Aradon sighs. “It’s all right. Now let’s climb one of these things and get out of this savage land.”

  The elf and dwarf nod and follow Aradon into the grass.

  A Triadon stands, eating the tall grass. Aradon turns to the others, putting his finger to his lips, telling them to stay quiet. He points silently to the tail. With his hands he motions climbing. He starts to walk over to the back end of the beast but stops when a yell rises from the grass.

  “There they are! Get ‘em!”

  They all burst into motion. Aradon jumps first, grabbing the tail. Thankfully, the beast doesn’t move, and he climbs up, resting on the backbone.

  “Throw him up,” he yells from up high.

  “Oi! You touch me, and I’ll rip yer tongue out!” Hagard protests, but Eldowyn is already picking him up and throwing him into the air. Hagard yells in the turmoil but manages to grab hold of the tail and climbs, Aradon pulling him up.

  The elf jumps next, catapulting himself up onto the back of the beast by its tail.

  When the Triadon moves, they scramble up higher. “Come on, we need to get to the head,” Aradon says urgently.

  They stumble as they move toward the thick neck, and the beast shifts under them.

  At the head they sit down, looking at the army rushing to the Triadon’s feet. At first, they’re confused, but then one looks up and shouts, “Hey! There they are.”

  A bigger man pushes through the crowd, looking up at them. “We can’t get to them without risking the Triadon’s life. We must let them go.”

  Someone doesn’t listen and fires an arrow. Without hesitation the man stabs him. “You disgrace the gods.”

  The man slumps and falls, his dead, eyes staring blankly at the sky.

  The dwarf shakes his head at the scene. “Savages.” He looks up at his friends. “Let’s get out of dis place.”

  Eldowyn at the head of the Triadon, puts pressure on a part of the neck, and the beast moves forward.

  “Ah, wha’ just happened?” Hagard asks.

  “In school, elves learn all about the ancient animals of our world. We learn how to control them, and how to understand them.” He looks back at them. “I excelled in this class.”

  Aradon smirks, but Hagard scoffs.

  “It’s just like an elf to excel at such a useless class as dis,” he mutters under his breath.

  Aradon rolls his eyes. “Come, we should get a move on to Nethess.” He straightens, examining the horizons. It seems too peaceful, too quiet for wartime. But alas, the world sleeps in silence for one more night. It will awaken one more day. The men and women of Mortal may live to see another sunrise and sunset.

  But it will all come to an end.

  It has to.

  Revera’s winding up for the next stoning, and we are its target. He ponders this for a moment. I wonder what the rocks are?

  Awyn shudders awake. The wind blows the drapes in her room and the moon casts a haunting glow onto the floor and walls. As the wind swoops past her, she hears the howling. Funny. She doesn’t remember opening the window, it’s too cold outside. Anyone else would shrug it off, but Awyn knows too well that a wind from nowhere is never just wind.

  “Hello?” she asks the empty room, half expecting Wilke to appear out of thin air, or a purple eye to scream at her in the mirror.

  But nothing happens.

  Just go to sleep, you’re overtired. Awyn lays her head back down. The room is silent, but suddenly a powerful gust bursts through the closed window, making Awyn gasp. She gulps as she looks at the empty room. “Please, if someone is there, just tell me.”

  “But I just love surprises.”

  Awyn yelps at the voice, staring in horror at the woman standing beside her.

  Revera smiles. “Hello, child.”

  “W-what are you doing here?” Awyn scrambles up, her eyes wide.

  “Oh, there is no need to worry.” She sits down, her brows formed in a concerned look. “I just want to talk.” Her hands are folded in her lap, her body twisted so she can look at her.

  Awyn gulps. “What about?” Her fear is giving way a bit, but that doesn’t hide the fact that it seems she’s more terrified of Revera than the Dark Spirit.

  “Why don’t I show you?” Revera smiles, standing. She walks over to the window and turns to Awyn. “Come, don’t be afraid.”

  It’s a simple req
uest, but the threat lies under it. Awyn should call the guards. Or push Revera out the window. Even try to stab her with the nearest pointed object. But she can’t. Instead, she finds her feet walking to the window.

  But what she sees next is the real horror.

  Down below, in the snow, behind the mountain, is an army. An army with no color, just a sea of gray and black, marching and chanting loudly. Torches blaze in the night, lighting up every few yards. Even from high in the palace, Awyn can smell the sickening stench of them, and picture the gnarled faces and bodies.

  Awyn stares at Revera. “How did you know I was even here?”

  “I have my ways.” The sorceress eyes her up. “And this isn’t completely your fault. I’ve wanted to crush Rohea ever since I cursed it. But I never had the means. One meeting with Zyadar gave me the strength to free my friends here.” She motions to the hundreds, maybe even thousands of men below. “One meeting with Karak gave me the army to destroy Rohidia, once and for all.”

  Awyn looks down at the creatures. “So those are Sanarx? Tarken? Dalorin?”

  “Now, why would I be so unfair? I left the Dalorin trapped in Kahzacore to do what they please—a sort of bargaining chip. They have their freedom until I say otherwise. No, I want this battle to be long and bloody.” She walks to the middle of the room. “I hate cheating, Awyn.”

  “Why are you so cruel?” Awyn asks.

  Revera looks at her. “Because this world is nothing but cruel. And if you don’t adapt to it, well, then you’re already halfway to the grave.” A spark of light and she’s gone.

  Awyn pants harshly, trying to calm her breathing, flabbergasted at what she has just witnessed.

  “No, there is no time for thinking. I must tell the king.” She dashes out of the room in nothing but her nightdress, her hair bouncing behind her.

  Down the hall she runs as fast as her healing feet will let her. The emerald walls, ceilings, and floors zoom past her in a flurry of green. She turns a corner, bumping into a guard.

  “Hey!” the guard shouts, rubbing his head.

  She continues to run but looks back. “Sorry. Tell the king to go to the throne room. Now!”

  The guard nods, and she keeps running, finally bursting into the throne room. She regains her composure as everyone enters the room, but her heart still pounds.

  “Are you okay?” Haydrid asks.

  “No. How can you not hear the marching? There’s an army of Sanarx down there!”

  On his throne, Atta’s eyes widen, and he stands to walk over to one of the tall rectangular windows behind the thrones where he looks down in horror at the marching army.

  “What is this?” He turns to her. “How are they free?”

  “Revera. She freed them only days ago.”

  “How did they get here so quickly, then?” Haydrid wonders.

  “Does it matter now?” Awyn protests. “There may be only an hour until they reach the gates. And Revera doesn’t plan on giving us much time to assemble.”

  Saine looks at her, puzzlement on his face. “How do you know that?” he asks, suspicion in his voice.

  “Because she told me. She was in my room not ten minutes ago.” Awyn sighs. “Ah, I knew I had a feeling. There is always something wrong when I have a feeling.”

  Kepp whispers to her, “You were right.”

  “We shouldn’t waste any more time. We must get the soldiers ready for battle.” Atta and Haydrid hurry from the room.

  Saine catches Adriel’s eye. “I’ll see you before the war drums start beating. I promise.” He kisses her forehead.

  “You better keep that promise. I’m not losing you again. I will fight if I have to.”

  “Well, let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.” They share a kiss, and Adriel seems pained as Saine parts from her, hurrying after the royals.

  Kepp looks at Awyn. “If I don’t come back—”

  “Don’t,” Awyn stops him. “You will, I will make sure of that.”

  “But if I don’t, if you ever see my brother again…tell him I’m sorry, and that I love him.” He hugs her, then says goodbye to Adriel, and heads out.

  Awyn walks over to Adriel.

  “So, this is what it’s like during war time?” Adriel asks, looking at the door Saine disappeared through. “To watch those you love go to their deaths?”

  “No. We aren’t doing this. I refuse to have any more of the people I love die.”

  Adriel looks at her. “I wish I could be as naive as you, Awyn. But life doesn’t work like that.” She turns away, walking out of the hall.

  Awyn stands there, alone, in the empty room and takes a shaky breath.

  “I’m starting to realize that.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  The jungle is crowded. Tropical plants Aradon’s never seen before grow everywhere, some towering above them. He, Eldowyn, and Hagard walk through the rainforest, swatting at bugs. The ground is mossy and muddy, not grassy, like they’re used to. Exotic flowers and ferns grow in abundance, sometimes completely covering the ground.

  Here the trees are thick. The green canopy above is lush and blocks out the sun, letting only a sprinkling of light shine down, dotting the ground like drops of gold.

  They couldn’t ride the Triadon into the forest, it’s too dense. So they walk, with their eyes peeled and ears sharp, listening for the army, or any sign of unwanted human life.

  “Tis too hot in de jungle. Too damp,” Hagard complains, swatting his cheek as something bites him. “I hate dese bugs!”

  “Be quiet, Hagard. We can’t yell. Anyone could be watching us,” Aradon shushes him. The wind has ears and the trees spears.

  A simple rhyme that most Red Warrior cadets learn. Really, it’s just to remind them that no matter where they are, they are never secure in their steps or their voices.

  “Watch and listen, Aradon. Watch for the swords and listen for the voices.” Aradon can hear the master’s voice in his head. He sighs, and brings himself back to the humid, mucky forest.

  He and the elf are doing a good job of keeping their feet quiet, but it’s harder for the stumpy dwarf. Eldowyn is as silent as his feet, not making a sound as they hike.

  “Why so quiet?” Aradon asks.

  “I wish not to draw attention to ourselves,” Eldowyn says with a bite that he seems to regret.

  Aradon stops, eyeing him up. “No, there is something wrong. Is it Kobe?”

  The elf’s brow is quizzical. “He killed the Emperor and High Priest. Why? Certainly not only so we could escape, that would be foolish.”

  Aradon pats him on the shoulder. “He did a good thing, let him die as such.”

  “But did we have to leave his body? He’ll probably be eaten for treason.” Eldowyn looks at the ground, and Aradon sighs.

  He looks the elf in the eye.

  “There are times in life that are hard. And those times are costly. We make decisions that will haunt us to the end of our days. We will lose friends, loved ones, and even strangers. But now is not the time to regret. Now is not the time to grieve. Whatever happens, we have to keep fighting. That’s the only way this war will end.”

  “Aradon’s right, laddie. We must keep movin’.”

  Eldowyn nods, and they continue on.

  Slick with sweat, the heat and humidity become more and more unbearable. Aradon adjusts the sheath on his back, the bow in his hand sliding from his wet palms. It’s affecting all of them.

  “At de moment I’m glad dey cut off me beard.” Hagard’s hair is matted, but it’s still in the tight braid. He shifts his ax to his other hand, tucking a stray strand of frizzled black hair behind his ear.

  “Honestly, I like you better without one,” Eldowyn teases. “You look ten years younger.” He smiles coyly, annoying Hagard as he wipes his hands on his white chiton, and the sweat off his sword’s handle.

  “Well, I was once a handsome fella. All de ladies swooned for me. But a few years in da mines an’ only Ava could love a hog like me.”
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  Eldowyn raises his eyebrow. “Who’s Ava?”

  Hagard blushes. “Da most beautiful dwarf in de world. Her golden hair stretches to her ankles, and her green eyes sparkle in de sun.” His face seems to melt with love as he thinks of her, his cheeks bright red.

  Eldowyn chuckles. “Aradon, have you heard about this?” He turns and is no doubt surprised when he doesn’t see him. He frowns. “Aradon?”

  Hagard’s eyes widen. “He left us?”

  “I didn’t leave you.” They look up, and Aradon drops down from a tree, his arrows rattling as he stands. “I went to get a look at where we are. If we follow the river, we can cut through Nomarah and Winter’s Pass.”

  “Nope. I’m not goin’ dere again. Me nose nearly fell off!” Hagard protests. “We can find a different way.”

  “There is no other way,” Aradon yells, gritting his teeth and snarling, feeling the rage exploding from him.

  Hagard takes a step back, gulping, and Eldowyn steps in between them.

  “Okay, let’s just calm down. We can follow the river, but instead maybe we can cut through Mera? That place is dead ever since the battle.”

  “It will take twice as long!” Aradon shouts, his knuckles turning white.

  “Then we will cut through the pass between the two, okay? We can stop in Olway, get a drink and some sleep.” The elf turns and continues to walk.

  Hagard follows, speeding up so he’s beside Eldowyn.

  Aradon huffs, shaking his head. His hands tremble from clenching them. He spreads his fingers, his blood seeming to pump twice as fast. He takes a shuddery breath, calming his rage.

  What’s happening to me?

  Awyn looks down at the army far below. From her window, she can see the evil waiting at their doorstep. Even in the beauty of the early evening sun, they look monstrous. They want to destroy Rohidia, and its people. Down on the mountain side she watches the dragon sleep. And sitting against its wing is…

  “Karak,” she mutters. So, he’s here. It’s so surreal to her, seeing a man from the First Age. He’s different than the Sanarx and Tarken—he’s actually human.