by Lisa Rector
Gethen’s men grumbled that it would take the unit a week to pass through and reach the base of the Great Ridge, even at their breakneck pace. Ahnalyn caught snatches of whisperings: ancient magic, men spirited away, underground realms from which one would never return. Superstitious, yes, but Ahnalyn had no way to know if such tales were true.
Steadily, the forest road climbed to the ridge.
The first night camping on the road was unsettling due to the forest’s unnatural stillness, the feel around them otherworldly. The men didn’t speak of the tension, but Ahnalyn felt it. They huddled close to the fires, swiftly ate their meal, and fell asleep early. Extra men stood watch. Ahnalyn was grateful for the comforting fire, which they would keep burning through the dead of night. She watched General Gethen. If he was unnerved, he didn’t show it.
After supper, a scuffling and shuffling in the woods alarmed the camp. “On your feet, men,” someone yelled.
Ahnalyn was pulled from behind a tent before she could freshen up, but her hands were still unbound as her guard lugged her to cover. The men stood with their weapons at the ready. It couldn’t be an ambush. A group of men couldn’t be hiding in the narrow spaces between the trees.
“It’s a wild animal come to kill us,” a man bellowed. “A beast from the under realms!”
A growl. “Quiet, you idiot.”
The camp remained silent, and the grating intensified, like bone scraping against bone.
Ahnalyn passed a rock where a soldier dropped his knife while cleaning a rabbit—a last kill before entering the Great Forest. She snatched up the knife during the commotion, concealing it in the folds of her skirt. Her guard had a firm hand on her upper arm and his sword in the other. With his eyes roving the camp, he waited with the other men for the strange noise to break onto the road.
Ahnalyn had no idea what creature could be in the forest, but she used this brief distraction.
She slashed her guard across the forearm, and he yelped, releasing his grip. Ahnalyn took off, heading away from the noise, down the forest road toward home. Her footsteps stopped after only a few feet when Gethen stepped in front of her path.
“Oh, ho!” He stamped the earth in front of her, making Ahnalyn recoil.
Gathering her courage, she brandished the knife. Gethen laughed, and she lunged forward, but he grabbed her wrist, causing pain to sear through her chaffed skin.
Ahnalyn dropped the knife.
The commotion abruptly stopped.
Gethen growled. “I give you commendation for taking advantage of the diversion, but I simply can’t imagine where you were planning on going.” He threw a rope at the guard.
Shaking, with his injured hand pressed to his side, the bleeding guard fumbled with the rope, tightening it until Ahnalyn cried out.
Gethen shoved the imbecile. “Easy! Keep a better hold on her, man, or the knife will cut deeper next time.”
The men never saw what the noise in the wood was, so Gethen ordered extra watch.
Ahnalyn was dismayed after her reckless attempt to escape. After the men had collapsed on their bedrolls, she lay awake long into the night. Sure that all was silent and no men would gawk, Ahnalyn let the tears come. Brenin was dead. She shouted this to her soul. DEAD! And she a captive. Oh, Brenin, what has become of us? Her body shook uncontrollably. What she wouldn’t give for Tad’s arms around her. Ahnalyn’s arms pulsed with pressure. Her fingertips throbbed. She curled into a ball, tucking her head under her arms as tight as she could, willing the anguish to cease. But it wouldn’t. Ahnalyn pushed herself up on all fours and pressed her hands into the ground, sinking her nails into the dirt. Subside. Leave me! The agony intensified and suddenly released, forcing a tremor through the earth. Ahnalyn quivered. What in all of Terrin just happened?
“Hey, lie down!” someone snapped.
Ahnalyn dropped down and finished crying herself to sleep.
When they made camp the following evenings, Gethen ordered his men to scout into the dreaded forest. Afraid of the unknown, his men made a protest, but after Gethen busted a couple of jaws, that was the last complaint.
Ahnalyn spent the rest of the time riding through the forest peering off into the woods for signs of movement. She wondered if the noise was a purposeful diversion, but she didn’t know who would aid her. She gazed up to the canopy, scanning the treetops, hoping to see animals or spirits or other creatures, but the trees were so tall the view was like looking into obscurity.
Late one evening while waiting for someone to help her off her horse, Ahnalyn saw a pair of eyes twinkling in the lantern glow. She squinted into the forest. The face was human but at a child’s height. The creature touched a finger to its lips as if to say shh! Ahnalyn blinked and the face disappeared. How strange! The one sign of life appears to be like a little child. Could this be the source of the strange sounds that had the men so frightened?
***
In the morning as the men were breaking camp, Ahnalyn woke to find a small flower placed between her bound hands. Ahnalyn knew the tiny, white wild flower grew in forest groves near her home. She looked around to see if anyone was staring at her. Assured the coast was clear, she lifted her hands to her face and took a deep breath. Ahnalyn wanted to cry. It smelled so heavenly.
After this, Ahnalyn ceaselessly searched the forest edge. She wasn’t sure what she’d seen, but Ahnalyn knew it wouldn’t hurt her. Feeling a renewed strength, she thought of ways to break free. Something in the forest would help her, she was sure of it. Retreat into the forest was the ideal recourse; for after all, who in their right mind would chase her into a forest possibly possessed by spirits?
Gauging a response from her intuition, Ahnalyn willed her voice of guidance to enter her mind and help her decide when and how. She lay on her bedroll near the fire. Having woken when the predawn watch added more wood to the fire, causing it to blaze brightly, Ahnalyn could feel the heat on her forehead. She knew without opening her eyes that three men sat before the fire and three more were probably skirting the edge of the sleeping group. Escape this way would be impossible. Ahnalyn couldn’t leave her bedroll without being noticed. I want a diversion, like the one before, to alert the guard but not wake the rest of the men.
Ahnalyn was giving in to sleep when she heard it. Her eyes opened wide, but she didn’t move. The guards leapt to their feet, weapons at the ready. They didn’t call an alarm but waited. She heard it again, a scratching and grating several yards in the woods, beyond the fire by which she lay. The men crept closer to investigate.
Adrenaline rushed through Ahnalyn, and she heard the sudden words, Now! Go now, urgently whispered to her mind.
Not giving it another thought, Ahnalyn knew this was what she’d been waiting for. She would just run until she was exhausted. With her bound hands, she threw the blanket off and rolled onto her side, clumsily groping to her feet. Hoping the crackle and the blaze of the fire would hide her flight, Ahnalyn stepped around the still men, fast asleep, and made for the trees at the edge of the road, away from the noise.
She was close to the edge of the trees and running stupidly with her hands bound. Upon reaching the wood, she pressed her back to the first tree and made the mistake of looking into the fire glow. When Ahnalyn turned toward the forest to continue running, she found her sight was impeded with the aftereffects from staring into bright light. Cursing her rashness, Ahnalyn felt along the tree and progressed to the next one, half running and half stumbling. The ground was smooth, but she made her way cautiously. Several times she ran into a broad tree as she skirted her way around the trunks, waiting for her night vision to return. Ahnalyn prayed her way would not become blocked by two trees growing together. Any minute they could notice her absence.
She inched her way forward. It would be light soon, but she would never be able to tell through the trees. How vast was this forest? If she pressed forward, how many days would she have to spend in its oppressive shadow? What if she didn’t come to food or water? This was lunacy.
She should have stayed and let her captor deliver her to Lord Caedryn. At least with them she wouldn’t starve to death or perish from thirst. What now? She’d lost track of her minutes fleeing.
No sound could penetrate the thick trees. The only thing Ahnalyn heard was her ragged breath. She pictured Gethen’s men in pursuit. She wouldn’t hear them until they caught up with her. They would have lanterns and could probably follow her footprints. Foolish! She knew this was idiotic. She picked up her pace. To stop now would be the end. Her breathing was heavier, and she had a cramp in her stomach. She fumbled around another tree trunk and touched something that was not bark.
Uttering a sharp cry, Ahnalyn jumped back and fell to the ground hard, unable to catch herself with her tied wrists. She could see nothing, so Ahnalyn stared up into blackness. Her fear came rushing back. What she had touched was fur. A wild animal? Certainly not one of Gethen’s men or the little child whose face she had sworn she’d seen in the trees.
Terrified of what sort of beast this could be, Ahnalyn cowered. But she braved a question, if only to herself. “Who’s there? Please—”
“Lady, you must go back. This is not your path.” A man spoke, his voice rich with an accent Ahnalyn had never heard, kind but urgent—not a creature to devour her. But she held her guard.
“What?” Ahnalyn attempted to stand. A strong hand gripped her elbow and helped her to her feet. She struggled to see the man’s face. “But I’m a prisoner. I was held captive for several long weeks. I had a chance to flee. Please help me.”
Hearing the ring of a weapon removed from its sheath, Ahnalyn stepped back.
“Hold still. I mean you no injury.”
She felt a pull as he cut the ropes from her wrists. Ahnalyn cringed as the bindings fell and her arms swung free.
“You are not meant to tread this way. Here, give me your hands.” He found Ahnalyn’s hands and held them up.
“I don’t understand? You’re speaking in riddles. Am I going the wrong way?” Ahnalyn saw a glow in the air where her hands were caught up in the stranger’s. He breathed onto her wrists, and a strange balmy air caressed her skin. Ahnalyn looked up at the man’s face, discernible in the glow, and saw wide mahogany doe eyes. His features were in shadow, but they held no hostility. Ahnalyn looked farther and saw at the crown of his head a pair of antlers. They were broad with several points.
Ahnalyn gasped. “What are you?” But realizing the statement was terribly rude, she said, “I mean, sorry, I’ve never met anyone like you before.”
The man finished breathing on her wrists. “There, that should feel better.”
Ahnalyn looked at her formerly raw skin, nearly healed with a slight pinkish hue remaining. “Thank you,” she managed to say in spite of her amazement. Her hands fell to her sides, and she glimpsed the man’s feet as the light faded. They were the hooves of a deer complete with fur, extending up his legs to a bare human chest. So the stories were true. Other creatures do exist.
“I am a tegyd. My name is Taliesin. We do not have time for further explanation. Your pursuers are nearly here. You must go back with them. It’s the way you must go.”
“I don’t understand. Why do you wish me captive?”
“If you continue on that path, truth will be found, but if you wish to continue on through the forest it will stay hidden forever. I can guide you safely if this is your choice.”
Ahnalyn blinked in confusion, knowing time ran short. Surely, even now, Gethen moved closer. Soon torchlight would creep around the trunk of a tree.
“Give me reason!” Ahnalyn urged.
“Your lord knew the truth. He whispered it with his last breath. Make your choice! I must go, fair lady!”
Emrys. Emrys was the word Brenin had uttered. Ahnalyn could not guess what it meant.
Time seemed to stop. Ahnalyn’s chest lifted with one breath before time started again, but the moment was long enough for her to make up her mind. Had her mother been wrong? Her escape was to no end. She would go back. Ahnalyn wanted truth, but the price would be more endless riding at Gethen’s mercy.
“Very well, you are strong. You have chosen the right path. Master of Light be with you.” Taliesin’s presence slipped away in the dark.
Ahnalyn was alone for a minute before another light came. General Gethen held a lantern high above his head in the narrow path and smirked with glinting eyes. “It seems our little deer has not roamed far.” He grabbed her arm roughly and dragged her back through the trees to the camp.
Her last failed attempt at freedom. What have I done?
CHAPTER SIX
TO THE BRINK OF MADNESS
The thinning of the trees and the light penetrating the dank understory signaled the end of the longest week of Ahnalyn’s life. As the unit climbed toward the pass that wound through the ridge, the air became cooler and more breathable. Near the entrance to the pass, they approached a sprawling camp.
This was Brenin’s outpost over which Gethen had seized control. The ground was muddy and packed from foot traffic. Tents had been pitched in row after row. The men were livelier away from the gloom of the deep forest. They sat around the welcoming fires and drank ale, speaking in dirty, foul-mouthed voices.
Ahnalyn rode past the tents and entered the main outpost, protected by a towering wall of pointed logs. Its banners whipped in the wind in Rolant’s colors, wine red and coal, with a raven in the center. All eyes were on her. Ahnalyn sat tall in her saddle and lifted her chin, feeling exposed and vulnerable as the only woman brought into a camp full of men, but she didn’t want them to know this.
A man emerged from the main wooden dwelling, a humble structure, resembling a squat cottage.
He looked barely older than Ahnalyn. Standing straight with square shoulders, he appeared strong and lean. The man’s dark hair hung to his shoulders, and his piercing black eyes were circled with shadows. A scrubby, black beard perched just on his chin. His chiseled cheeks shaped the leathery features on his face. A black cloak swirled around his ankles over a black robe, revealing a knife dangling from his belt.
He flashed a sadistic and cunning smile when he saw Ahnalyn.
“Watch your tongue men. We have a lady in the camp. We must protect her delicate spirit,” he said.
“Lord Caedryn.” General Gethen bowed. “You received my message.”
“Yes, I decided to meet you halfway to safeguard my precious cargo. I’m elated with the news I received.”
Lord Caedryn turned, looking at Ahnalyn. She was amazed such a young-looking man could be the Lord Caedryn who was Rolant’s ruler. Yet fierce majesty revealed an ancient air about him.
“Bring her inside, unbind her hands, and give her food and drink,” Caedryn ordered his men.
To Ahnalyn he said, “They have been too rough with you.” He gently held her hands and looked at the rope around her raw wrists. In the previous week since they’d been healed by Taliesin, they had become as sore as before.
“You’ll have no need for those while I’m here,” Caedryn said, looking with subtlety into her face.
Ahnalyn looked away. His gaze was too cold. She sensed nothing but malice emanating from him.
Lord Caedryn glanced down at her body, and his lips curled.
***
After these long weeks, Ahnalyn relished a hearty meal and ale. The circulation and feeling crawled back into her extremities. It was debatable what Lord Caedryn was going to do with her, and Ahnalyn waited with growing unease as she stood before Caedryn and Gethen.
Caedryn was staring into her eyes—into her soul. This time Ahnalyn didn’t look away. She was not sure she could.
“Gethen tells me you have quite the spirit. You’ve escaped more than once. An admirable quality. I would expect nothing less,” Caedryn said.
Ahnalyn kept her head held high.
“You don’t know who you are, do you?” Caedryn asked casually.
Ahnalyn was at a loss. She didn’t care to hear the drawling of this murderer.
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“No wonder your husband never told you. He knew what a treasure he had and wanted you to himself—quite selfish actually.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Ahnalyn said, with a measured voice.
“No, you wouldn’t, would you?” Caedryn looked thoughtful. “Your parents hid the truth from you. Your life has been one tremendous lie.” Caedryn laughed and clapped his hands together. “This is too good! They wanted you to be in darkness your whole life, hiding who you are, only to fail. This amuses me.” A hideous smile spread across Caedryn’s face.
He paused, and his eyes widened in further revelation. “Your mother was killed because of you. Heartbreaking.”
“You lie!” Ahnalyn said, her voice rising. “How could you know how my mother was killed?”
“I possess a lot of knowledge. All I have to do is look at you, and I know.” He reached with a pointed finger, pushed it to Ahnalyn’s forehead, and snatched it back.
“Emrys!” he cried.
Ahnalyn winced. That word again. Taliesin said Brenin knew the truth, which he revealed with his last word. What did any of it mean?
“You’re half-immortal. Your mother was a Dragon Rider. You wear the dragon stone around your neck!” Lord Caedryn exclaimed as if in answer to her question.
Ahnalyn didn’t say anything, hoping silence veiled any more ignorance, but Caedryn seemed to know everything concerning her. She was the one here who knew nothing. Ahnalyn could see the satisfaction on Caedryn’s face, and Gethen stood there smirking. Absolutely humiliating.
“Your Lord Brenin knew what you were when he saw you. He must have wanted you to breed his immortal offspring,” Caedryn rasped.
Ahnalyn’s hand flew up, but Caedryn grabbed it before it made contact with his face. She cried out as her wrist seared in pain. Caedryn twisted Ahnalyn’s arm as he pulled her close, her back against his chest. He laughed and pressed his hand against her stomach.
“You carry his child now. You didn’t know?” Caedryn breathed hot in her ear.