by J. McSpadden
"I received a raven from Grenswald. He said he found a red-haired woman whose eyes turned black as ink when he tried to steal her medallion. It's her. Langhorn, I know it is, and so will the High King. We need to send for her."
Langhorn let out a long sigh, a breath of air he hadn't known he'd been holding.
"They would be coming from Charlie Town heading south through Dun L’er forest. We have three days at most."
"Maggie!" Langhorn called out, knowing the girl would be close at hand.
"Yes, Doctor?" She walked through the door with a book in her hand and a teacup poised at her lips.
Langhorn smiled gently at her, not wanting to alarm her despite the pounding urgency rushing through his system. "Please send word to the Raven Ward. I will need to be sending out some letters post haste."
She nodded in response and took off down the hall.
"Langhorn, that is not the worst of it I'm afraid," the cloaked man said, his eyes heavy with the weight of his news.
"LeMarc is on the hunt for Ephidra Lily."
"Does he know where it grows?" Langhorn said, pacing to the open window overlooking the distant West Iron mountain range and sighing with the additional weight pressing down on his shoulders. The autumn season hadn't yet fallen into the gloom of winter, leaving the lower ranged peaks still visible beneath the clouds a soft and brilliant green. It was a beautiful sight, as was most of Aspera, but soon the distant mountains would be covered in winter white. Cold, bitter air would slip through the lands, bringing a storm of terror. Idly, he ran a gentle finger over the neck of his brown and white speckled hawk, Archimedes, sleeping on the ledge of the open window. As stark yellow eyes befitting a hunter turned toward Langhorn in pleasant surprise, Langhorn began to formulate a plan of what must be done.
"He is making plans to head south," the man spoke up from behind him. He remained in his chair, back straight and features stern.
Langhorn nodded, giving Archimedes one last pet of attention before turning back toward his guest. "From where exactly?"
"That I cannot say," the man replied tersely as though surprised Langhorn would even ask. Langhorn hummed with an air of annoyance, but his face remained stoically blank of emotion as the man continued. "I can give you details of his movements and actions. I'm not able to tell you where the High King is located now. Few know. Therefore, few he could pinpoint to slaughter if word got out of his whereabouts."
Langhorn nodded but remained silent as he began to pace the length of his office, head down in contemplation as the fabric of his robes swished around his legs.
"You don't trust me," the man said, his voice low and sharp.
"Of course, I trust you," Langhorn snapped back. "That doesn't mean I don't second guess the information given to me. You think you have all the details? Do you honestly think the High King tells you everything?"
The man snorted loudly, his limbs jerking with a constant jitter as though he was anxious to be on his way. "No, of course not."
"Well then," Langhorn replied with a sardonic grin, "I can trust you and also not trust you are telling me everything."
The man nodded, though his thin lips pursed together in grim irritation. "He will be sending a portion of his Equestrian troops from Alpha Quarter by foot, but most will arrive by ATS."
"He's sending his air fleet?"
The man nodded silently.
"This is dire," Langhorn whispered.
Archimedes screeched from his perch as though in shock, to which Langhorn nodded as though in silent agreement with the bird.
"I don't know how much time we have, but I do know he is sending out a full battle line of Equestrian soldiers."
"Where?" Langhorn asked, hoping that the man wouldn't be able to give a definite answer.
"He plans on passing through Whiskey Wharf first in the effort to appear they are prepping for mass trade at the waterfront. The Equestrian units will hit Romeo next."
Langhorn's legs almost collapsed beneath him at the mention of his home village. "He's found the Sanctuary?"
The man nodded, his eyes downcast. "He knows. I'm certain he doesn't know where the other sanctuaries are located. Only that they exist, and they are the key to what he has been searching for."
Langhorn nodded, the billowing lengths of his robes swishing across the stone floor as he moved toward the towering piles of books laid out over his desk. He found the ink pot he was looking for and sat down to write the one message he hoped never to write.
"There is one more thing of note," the man said, almost as an afterthought though Langhorn knew better. The man's tone had shifted downward, leaving room for Langhorn's own interpretation.
"Oh?" Langhorn inquired politely as he scribbled out the words banging around in his head.
"Something Vesyon will most certainly want to be aware of," the man said lightly as though uncertain of how to unpack the thoughts spinning through the confinement of his mind.
"Spit it out," Langhorn said, growing impatient.
"The Praetorians within Aspera must remain on high alert. Camille's name, as well as others, have been whispered amongst many in the deeper corners of Aspera now that the rebellion has begun to expand. She isn't safe to wander, and neither is he."
Langhorn nodded, watching the man with intense curiosity as his gaze shifted anxiously about the room. "Noted," Langhorn finally replied, his pen hovering over the piece of parchment.
The man silently excused himself, disappearing through the open office door as though he'd never been there. Archimedes squawked, his feathers ruffling up in the way of conversation.
"I agree my dear friend," Langhorn responded to the puffed-up bird as he dipped his feathered pen in ink and made to write out his messages. He wrote three identical letters, sealed them with the White Wall crest against melted red wax, before turning to back to Archimedes now staring out the arched window.
"This needs to get to Vesyon right away. I’ll send these last two via raven," he explained his needs to Archimedes as he would any messenger. Even though the Count of White Wall preferred to send all messages via raven, Langhorn always sent his urgent letters via Archimedes. He'd never thought of the hawk as a pet, but more an extension of himself.
Archimedes cocked his head at Langhorn's request and shifted his weight to extend his leg toward the old man.
"If you are unable to find Vesyon," Langhorn began before Archimedes’ feathers ruffled in warning of a sharp bite. "Not that you won't find him dear friend! You are the best tracker in all Aspera; I have no doubts in you. But if a problem should arise, please go straight to Theo." With a sharp nod, Archimedes extended his leg more prominently, his feathers pulled against his body with his beak extended upwards in public preening of the offered compliment. Langhorn inwardly chuckled as he tied off the final note.
He watched the beautiful spread of wings as Archimedes took flight to the east. The words of his message played on an unending loop in his mind: He's found her. They know.
Chapter Five
Undiscovered Secrets
The morning of Fόmhair came quickly, causing Lunci to squirm with anticipation all through breakfast. After promising to bring home a sweet prize that night, Camille dashed out the front door with her bow slung over her shoulder and two hunting knives attached to either hip.
The sun peeked its shiny face over the eastern edges of the Iron Mountains, spreading light across the azure sky. Warmth did not accompany it, and Camille pulled on her fingerless gloves in quick, jerky motions. She jogged effortlessly through the ramshackle cabins and measly vegetable gardens toward the edge of town, where a small group of men bantered loudly to waken their groggy minds.
Marcus Flint, the Head Guard of Sierra Village, was waiting in a small clearing as Camille joined the men. Marcus pulled out a slew of daggers from his hunting pack, handing them to the unarmed villagers who'd decided to join the morning hunt.
"Morning Camille," Marcus said as he approached her. He wore a worn leath
er vest marked with the Sierra Village crest: an owl in flight over a standing pine tree. Most guards wore their hunting doublets to showcase their power and authority, but not Marcus. He wore his out of necessity. His pockets were packed to the brim in preparation for the hunt.
Mumbling a groggy good morning in Marcus’s direction, Camille passed by him debating if she should tell him about the Chimera. It would be smart to warn him, as the Chimera were a serious threat to the village. If she did, she'd not only lose her playtime with Lunci but her hunting time as well. She'd need to be extra vigilant in watching the nine-year-old, never letting him out of her sight in the forest from now on.
"Brian and Jacob—head along the west path with Camille," Marcus said to two younger boys standing next to Camille. "I was told yesterday that a pack of wild turkeys was spotted there, and I'm hoping to get one on our menu tonight. Watch each other's backs and make sure to report to me immediately if you see anything outside of the norm."
All three nodded, and Camille led the way.
"See what you can do, our little golden hunter," Marcus murmured as she brushed past. He'd quickly recognized her as one of the best hunters in the village when she arrived, and treated her with respect when they were alone amongst the trees. In public, however, he ignored her often and had barely smirked a few times when they crossed paths, regarding her as if she were a homeless beggar asking for a bite to eat. It bothered her more than she cared to admit. She took extra precaution when in his presence not to allow her inner turmoil to seep through the wall holding in her wild range of emotions.
"Any wagers this morning, gentlemen?" Camille asked, peering closely at her hunting companions coming up behind her.
"Wagers? Against you?" Jacob said incredulously. His black hair shined an almost vivid blue in the early morning light, hanging shaggily over his amber-hued eyes. He leaned down to gather his hunting gear, which was all frayed and rundown despite his best efforts to maintain it. Jacob's parents were both blacksmiths but weren't considered well off within the village. They got by like the rest of them—just barely, with several pounds lost after the winter chill snuck in.
It wasn't easy to get on his nice side, and at first, Camille hadn't cared to try. She'd ignored the men, hunting by herself until these teenagers had seen her for what she was: a great ally. They'd reported her skills to Marcus one evening after a particularly great hunt, and her popularity on the trails had increased overnight.
Jacob no longer shot verbal daggers at her as he'd done their first few months of hunting. Instead of harping on her short stature and female qualities, he now regularly asked her for pointers on her pristine hunting tactics. There was obvious curiosity surrounding Camille, a stranger in their home village explained away as a long-lost relative of Peter's, but she deflected all questions about her origin.
"The only wager I'd take against you would be if you shot with your eyes closed, Camille, and even then, I bet you'd still shoot down more game than little Brian here." Jacob elbowed Brian, a lanky, mousy-haired boy not much older than thirteen.
Even though Brian Bower was three years his junior, Jacob only stood a mere three inches taller than him. Brian was kinder, though, with wide blue eyes the color of the evening sky and a shy smile Camille had immediately taken to.
"I doubt I could hit anything smaller than a deer with my eyes closed," Camille said to Brian. "So you might obliterate my record."
"Uh huh, you're just humble," Brian replied, his face breaking into a wide smile. "You'd miss on purpose to give me the upper hand in a competition, Cammy. Don't even try to argue with me on that."
It was hard not to like the two boys who'd taken her in. They teased her, swapped goods after hunting, and shared stories about their experiences in the village growing up together. Brian was sweet and good-natured but followed the crowd, and he hadn't really befriended Camille until Jacob decided to. Jacob, at first, had treated her like Marcus had, but, in the last few moon cycles, his attitude toward her had drastically changed. He sought out her attention and praise, not just in a crowd but also when they found themselves alone. She valued their friendships regardless of their past behaviors, and it felt good to have something constant in her life. Something she could pretend had always been a part of her past.
The three of them laughed freely as they went up to their usual path, enjoying the brisk autumn air along the western trail through Dun L'er. Camille led the way, pointing directions instead of voicing them when she heard game rustling in the leaves of the forest floor. Brian was the first to shoot down a rabbit and smiled widely when Camille lied and said she hadn't even seen it.
"Hey Cammy, how's the hand?" Brian asked. He carefully pulled the arrow from the rabbit's neck as Camille had taught him, making sure not to break the arrow's tip off in the process.
She removed her glove and held out her palm. "Totally fine. I told you it'd heal fast."
Brian's eyes bugged out as he took in her smooth skin, absent of any mark. She'd cut it severely two days ago chasing down a deer, but the surface layer had grown back within a few hours. "You'd never even know..."
"How's that possible?" Jacob asked, one thick, black eyebrow quirking up as he grabbed her bare hand to inspect up close. "If I cut my hand like that it would've taken weeks to heal." Camille merely smiled as she gently pulled her hand from his grasp and shoved her glove back on.
"It's obvious, isn't it?" Brian said from a few feet away, now collecting a cluster of mushrooms that were growing in the thick grass. "Cammy's one of those super soldiers."
"Careful Brian!" Jacob said quickly, searching the area for eavesdroppers. "I wouldn't tell that to anyone else, Camille. They might get the wrong impression, and you're already an outsider."
"What do you mean?" Camille glanced from Brian's expression of pure awe to Jacob's, which was now pinched with worry.
"You never heard about the rebellion? The Chimera outbreaks? The mass exiles?" Jacob asked, voice barely over a whisper.
Camille shook her head, a black hole of apprehension growing in her stomach.
"The whole reason Marcus and the entirety of the guards are afraid of infiltration is the mass outbreak that happened eight years ago in Charlie Town."
"Outbreak of what? The shadow beasts?" Camille asked warily.
Brian hushed her quickly, his eyes snapping left and right in quick succession. "They're called Chimera," Brian whispered.
"One and the same. Charlie Town was overtaken with the fever, and the whole lot of 'em turned," Jacob said, his mouth turning up in a weird, menacing sort of grin. "No amount of praying to our Holy Father would save them."
Camille removed her dagger from its holster and studied the forest floor for possible dinner options. She wanted answers; she wanted to know the truth. However, something about the way Jacob's eyes lit up told Camille she might regret learning about the past.
"Your god Faeder?"
Brian eyed her suspiciously out of the corner of his eye as he came up close beside her. "Of course, I mean Faeder, our Holy Father, Camille. He's the only God."
She nodded in reply, unwilling to start the conversation of beliefs with them when she was desperate to hear other, more critical information. Picking up her pace, she stepped over a wayward tree that had fallen many years prior, the wood rotted and frayed splaying out its innards across the main path.
As Jacob and Brian trailed behind, Camille pressed her luck as she pulled out an arrow in slow preparation. "What do you mean by 'turned?' They all got sick with a fever?"
"Chimera aren't only huge monsters; they were humans before they got infected. Once you get bitten by a Chimera and the fever sets in, you're a goner. You either die or you turn. I imagine most would choose to die first," Jacob said, chuckling.
"How would you know? You've never even seen a Chimera before," Brian pointed out.
Jacob kicked at a loose rock, shrugging his shoulders in an offhanded way. "I've heard the stories. It's enough to know I'd never want to
turn into one of those monsters."
Brian elbowed Jacob in the ribs. "We aren't really supposed to talk about this. It's not a good idea to speak ill of those who've turned to shadow."
"Just a little more? Please?" Camille pressed, trying not to appear desperate.
"Yeah, okay," Brian said under his breath. "Most of the people in Charlie Town succumbed to the fever. But before they turned, the High King sent in one of his special guards to protect those who were still alive. It didn't quite go the way the High King had planned. The guard went crazy and ended up slaughtering the entire town, leaving half of the Chimera horde to run wild into the neighboring villages of Aspera. We think they might have even extended past the Kingdom borders into other territories. It would explain why the High King closed the borders after the infection spread."
Camille didn't know why, but her mouth had begun to go dry at Brian's words. No wonder Sierra Village was always on guard. Fear of such a fever would surely keep them wary against anyone they didn't know firsthand.
"What happened to this special guard?" Camille asked as she notched an arrow to take aim at a distant squirrel. The fluffy animal saw her movement and dashed behind a branch before she could fire.
"Oh," Jacob said, "he wasn't just a guard—he was a Praetorian. One of the High King's lead soldiers. His blood-lust and destruction of Charlie Town was the start of the Praetorian rebellion. They were tired of being slaves to a king who forced them to kill at his command, and this Praetorian slaughtered an entire village to send a message. They were done fighting for the crown. After the slaughter, the High King exiled all his Praetorian guards, but they didn't go quietly."
Jacob's nonchalance seemed to appease Brian's cautious nature, and he chimed in more freely. "The High King stated to all of Aspera that Praetorians were unfit for duty and no longer followed the laws of the Aspera Munera."
"What's the 'Aspera Munera?'" Camille asked, blowing wisps of flyaway hair from her perspiring face.
"It's the Asperian Duty, laws we have to follow, like the Moon Tax. This Praetorian broke the law, so the High King exiled them all. The battles that followed were a bloodbath at first—a lot of Asperians died trying to rid the kingdom of the rebel Praetorian soldiers."