She tore off a piece of the dried meat, feeling her hunger more as the spice of it warmed her mouth. Ah, the faithful. Their eyes had been trained on looking for imaginary friends when they should have been wielding weapons. How many times had her father told them to take pride in fighting for themselves and not to believe in such fables? He’d been right, of course. He always was.
But her parents and a few of her father’s closest friends had been a minority in the voice of Palingard. Even Bella and Sara believed in the Adorians. Sara’s parents had been students of the University and knew better than to keep their faith in the ways of the past, especially when it had done so little to preserve their world.
When she finished eating, she and Koen found a stream and filled the small flask with enough water to sustain them for the rest of the day. For the first few hours of their trek, she vented her frustrations to Koen. As it grew later in the day, however, she fell deeper into silence, lost in remembrances of her past.
Following her mother’s death, she’d traveled with her father. They’d gone as far as the sea, to a small province north of Ruiari. She could still remember the smell of the salt in the air and the strength that seemed to radiate from the sailors. Her father had told her they were mostly from the kingdoms in the northern realm of Lycus, his homeland.
So far from Eidolon — is that where you have gone?
Exhausted, she slowed her pace and finally stopped to rest against a tree. This would have been much easier with her horse. She’d heard stories of loyal steeds that searched out their masters long after they had been separated by warfare. Not Shadow. He was only good for spooking and stepping on her feet.
She looked down to see if Koen seemed as worn out as she felt. Just as she turned her head, she saw something entangled in the weeds and ivy that wound around the tree. She lifted her hand to brush aside the foliage, but as she turned, it vanished. Startled, she stepped back, nearly tripping over Koen.
“Did you see that?” She regained her balance and leaned forward, then, ever so lightly, she touched her fingertips to the leaves. Shimmering like sunlight on the surface of water, bright silver came again into view. Shocked, she pulled a sword free of its prison and held it up, examining the intricate designs etched into the gleaming gold blade. The hilt was what she had first seen, an ornate cast silver with two dragons whose tails curled around the hand grip. It was unlike any weapon she’d ever seen. The men of the village had crude swords forged of metals easily found in the surrounding areas. Even her father’s chosen instrument was a weapon of simple design.
This was a broadsword, nearly half her height and much too heavy for her to actually wield against an attacker, but she couldn’t bear to leave it behind. She was also quite conscious of its strange appearance. There was always the chance that she’d imagined it to be hidden and, in her delirium, envisioned that it was revealed at her touch. She couldn’t deny its impressiveness. Perhaps she was much closer to civilization than she thought.
She glanced at Koen long enough to motion him onward. Just a few miles farther, they reached the edge of a city. It was grand — high spires draped with marble carvings rose in the distance, overshadowing smaller yet similarly adorned buildings. The stone was cut in a fashion that gave a sense of great wealth. This was once, if no longer, a flourishing city. What struck her, though, was the lack of movement, the lack of any sound except of creatures scurrying in the woods behind her.
Had she thought at all that she weren’t alone, she wouldn’t have gone closer. After a few moments of observation, she was certain. She made her way past the wooden doors and into the city itself, wandering for a bit before pausing to take in the magnificent temple in the center of the city. She opened her mouth to say something to Koen about it, when she realized he wasn’t there. Not in the least surprised by his disappearance, she continued on.
Removing her dagger from where it was strapped to her thigh, she stayed close to the buildings that lined the main throughway. The sword in one hand, useless for anything but intimidation, and her dagger in the other, she thought briefly to herself that her father would eat his words if he could see her now. He abhorred her interest in archery and would have killed Duncan with his bare hands had he known his friend had tutored her not only to shoot with startling accuracy, but to throw hand blades with equal stealth. Surely, her father would have seen the benefit of her having such skills now.
There was an eerie stillness about everything. As she passed the shops, she noted they were devoid of settled dust, rotted food, or any other signs that there had once been life. She also noted that not only were there no humans or Ereubinians present, there was not one thing living past the wooden doors. Nothing. No bugs, rodents, or animals had found shelter in the city’s abandonment.
Something is wrong, something feels so very unnatural about this place.
Despite her growing concern, she couldn’t stop herself from entering the temple. The closer she came to its enormous doors, the more compelled her feet were to pass through them.
As soon as she stepped onto the polished stone, euphoria washed over her. She had to grip a small bench to steady her feet. She looked up into the rafters and the carved wood that trimmed the walls, losing herself as her gaze turned upwards. More than ten stories high, the domed ceiling was painted with a bright mural that depicted a multitude of scenes. There were two dragons in battle; one bright silver, the other an almost iridescent shade of white, surrounded by winged beings that she could only guess were Adorians. Another picture displayed a beautiful woman with dark hair standing behind a sandy-haired man, whispering into his ear. He held a book that glistened gold. Farther over was an image of two lovers embracing, tears streaming down their cheeks. She touched her hair, similar in shade to the tresses in the mural, and sadness swept through her.
“Your sorrow is without cause, you have much to be thankful for.” A little girl’s appearance startled Ariana.
“What?” she murmured. The euphoric feeling strengthened, blending with the grief she felt, making her behave as if drunk.
The girl drew closer and took her hand. “Come, let me show you.”
Ariana hadn’t the will to say no, nor the clear consciousness to question it. She followed until they came to a low pool of dark water, its surface completely still. A perfect reflection of the painted ceiling appeared on the water’s surface, the lovers frozen in their woeful stance.
“Do you believe in dreams?”
Ariana considered the little girl’s question as she peered at the water’s surface, feeling her chest tighten as the image changed into her parents’ likenesses.
“You can be with them, Ariana. All that is required of you is to say the words.”
Ariana watched her mother reach out to her. “Mother,” she whispered.
“Say the words and this will all be over, a nightmare from which you will awaken.”
She closed her eyes, her vision starting to spin. Feeling overwhelmed, she knelt down, gripping the side of the well for support. This cannot be real.
“But it is. See for yourself what is offered to you. I can give you anything you desire, Ariana. Anything.” Another face appeared in place of her parents, with the opposite effect. In the water she saw Sara.
“Sara needs me,” she murmured. “No, this cannot be real. None of this is real.” Her voice steadied with resolve and she rose to her feet, fighting the fog that blanketed her consciousness.
The little girl began to back away from Ariana as Koen’s foreboding howl echoed in the distance.
“Say the words before it is too late!”
“No!” She screamed, groaning with nausea as the spinning increased tenfold. Suddenly, everything around Ariana decayed, the walls crumbling and the wood rotting. She covered her head and dropped to the ground, watching the drastic transformation.
The drugged feeling lessened only slightly, leaving a haze over her field of vision as she looked around her. A thousand or more years had passed o
ver this place. Stone had not only eroded from rainwater, but thick moss had grown over the walls, or what was left of them. She rose to her feet, alone now, peering out past where the temple doors had been. Ruins. Nothing was before her but the ancient ruins of some long-ended kingdom.
“What?” she whispered. The sun, which had been resting on the very edge of the horizon, had fallen below it, replaced by a luminous pale orb.
Hearing Koen again, she tightened the strap of her satchel and started toward the sound of his howl, through the ruins and beyond the edges of the city, where she paused to take in her surroundings. It took Ariana a few moments to fully understand that what she was seeing just beyond her in the distance was snow.
She had never seen it. Palingard was too far south, and freezing rain was as close as it ever came. I haven’t traveled that far north, I couldn’t have. As far as she understood, the only place within six months’ distance where it did snow was beyond the Elixen Sea. Yet, as she trekked opposite of the way she had come, snow fell from the sky and blanketed that which had to have been accumulating for many days.
She stopped and turned, making certain of what she was seeing. The snow stopped just outside of what had been the northern wall. From a few paces away, it looked as though the city had never been there at all.
“Koen!” she cried, feeling fear for the first time since the siege. She shook her head, again putting her hands over her face. “Where am I?” she breathed. “Koen!” her voice echoed through the trees. A large pale moon, now full, cast a bright reflection on the snow that covered the ground. The forest beyond was deep with darkness, leaving little visibility. Koen howled again in the distance ahead of her, and she ran toward him, falling twice as she slid down the embankment at the edge of the clearing.
His eyes were cold. Staring into the well, The Dark Lord Azrian watched the ripples shiver across the surface of the water from where his fist had made contact with the stone. A foul, black curse left his lips in a language he rarely spoke as he leaned over, resting his weight on the centers of his palms, his arms outstretched on both sides. He’d been foolish, he knew. Ariana had been there all along, among the humans, right in the midst of the fray. It was nearly insulting. He wondered if Ciara had felt it too. No matter, he told himself, keeping his eyes fixed on her pale skin and fluid blue eyes.
It has begun.
CHAPTER THREE
PREY
M
ichael had been tracking the wolf for miles as it dodged in and out of the woods, narrowly escaping his line of sight. The moon hung full in the sky, casting a glow off the powder-fine snow and onto the very edge of the forest as he crouched and waited in silence for his prey to reappear.
Michael was dressed in white, the leather of his tunic trimmed with pearl-colored brocade, only his reddish hair and blue eyes visible against the landscape. He was tall with a strong, lean build, and the large white wings typical of Adorian men.
He heard rustling to his left from across the field. He pulled an arrow from his quiver and readied it against the bow. In the darkness, he saw the gleam of two eyes, the same green hue that had been evading him. He watched them look down, then behind. Having seen something, the wolf leapt over a drift and into the light. It was covered in snow, and though Michael could barely see it from such a distance, he could tell this was indeed a different wolf. It was much bigger and less aware that it was being hunted. Michael stood up and eased his way in the same direction as his prey. He remained on the opposite side of the field and when the wolf began to pick up its pace a bit, Michael mirrored its actions. The forest would thin out if they went much farther, this was his last chance. He knelt down and steadied his aim. Releasing the arrow, it flew through the air across the field, letting no more sound escape from the bow than a mere whisper as the string fell back into place. As the arrow approached its intended target, Michael saw a girl move into its stead. He stood frozen for a moment, not believing his eyes, then heard a cry and a whimper from the wolf as the girl fell to the ground.
Dropping his bow, his large wings opened and with a fluid motion he rose into the air and glided across the field to where the girl lay.
“Are you …” he stopped mid-sentence as he saw markings on her cloak. There was little need to inquire into the girl’s lineage.
She seemed unaware that he’d approached her and as soon as his hand touched her shoulder, she reeled from his grasp. Eyes wide, her expression was one of complete surprise. She held her hand to her side and shrank away from his touch.
“You have wings,” her words sounded frail and thin, and to his shock, the very moment she struggled to speak he caught sight of the huge sword that lay at her side. A broadsword, it was much too large for anyone of her slight stature to use effectively. She was a wispy creature, with a thin figure and delicate, defined features. Dark red hair, visible even in the shadows, tumbled past her shoulders in thick waves, a stark contrast to her snowy white complexion. It reminded him a little of his own pale coloring. He started to ask her about the sword when her eyes flickered shut and she groaned in pain.
This did not bode well. Fears of how many Ereubinians had crossed over the divide flooded his veins like ice water, but he had no choice. He was scantily armed and alone. If it was a trap, it was too late to back out of it.
He leaned over to pick her up, first moving the sword from her reach. He felt a prick against his neck.
“Stay… away… from…” Another spasm of pain took care of her acerbic tongue, though it did not remove the dagger she held at his jugular.
In all the years he’d been in battle, he had never once seen a woman fight, let alone stumble upon one in the middle of the night in a protected realm, carrying more weapons than he probably was aware of. He quite genuinely couldn’t discern what to do first.
A dark red stain was spreading from beneath the hand clamped on her side, soaking her tunic. He took a chance and lifted his hand to hers, prying the knife free, hoping the pain would override her strength of grip. “I need to see how badly you’ve been wounded.”
She was struggling to keep her eyes open, but shook her head. It was mere seconds before her breath grew shallow and she lost consciousness.
After securing her sword at his back, he moved her arm away from her side. It was probably a shallow wound, but it was bleeding steadily. Placing his hand at the base of the arrow, he gripped the shaft with the other and glanced up at her. Leaving it whole would cause more harm than good, but he wasn’t certain she was completely unconscious. Her cry as he snapped the arrow off, leaving the tip in place, answered his question.
She moaned and fought him, but he outweighed her by at least a hundred pounds — probably more.
“I have no intention to harm you, nor did I to begin with. I didn’t see you,” he spoke softly, feeling more sympathy than he cared to. As much as he disdained her world, her whimpering was woeful enough to bring any Adorian to his knees.
He noticed then that the animal he had been so certain was a wolf was in fact a dog. It rose and trotted alongside them as Michael carried her through the woods to his horse. “Is this beast a friend of yours?” he asked her.
“Koen,” she whispered. It was the last thing she said before finally succumbing to unconsciousness.
He placed her on the horse first, pulled himself up behind her, holding her around the waist with one arm, and took the reins with the other hand. He had brought his horse to carry the spoils of his hunt. This was far from what he’d expected to return with.
It was not a short ride to the capital, but it went quickly as he was consumed with watching the horizon. His only thought was to gather his men as swiftly as possible and strengthen the border.
The cuts on her face and the bruising were plainly visible as they entered the gates of Cyphrus, but what caused him to wonder more was her clothing. Though she wore an Ereubinian cloak, her pants and tunic were human, typical of the poorer villages.
He slowed his horse to a trot
just outside of the keep, stopping as a stable boy approached them.
“My Lord,” he bowed, taking the reins in his small hands.
“Wake Jareth and tell him I need his men on the southern border.” He turned to one of the two guards who approached as he dismounted. “Summon the Arch Elders. I’ll convene with them after I have taken her to the healer.” He didn’t wait for their acquiescence.
Starting up the stairs to the massive double doors of the keep, a scant smile passed over his lips. There, sitting patiently, as though he’d known in advance where Michael was taking his companion, was the dog.
“Well, come on then, no sense leaving you out here alone.”
After navigating a long hallway, he came to a narrow staircase that was easy to miss if one wasn’t looking for it. At its base was a small room, lit only by the dwindling light of the hearth. In a chair nestled in the corner was an elderly woman, the healer Aulora, her head resting sideways where it had fallen onto her shoulder.
“Tu denai nordumbra led estrinigh,” he whispered.
She looked up and studied the girl for a moment before answering him in the same tongue and motioning for him to set her onto the bed nearby.
“Is she human?” Michael asked.
Aulora ignored his question and began to tend to the girl’s wounds, chanting softly as she worked. He’d turned to leave her to her art when the healer spoke, “She is not human.”
He stared back at her, praying she’d give him a direct answer for a change. “Was she escorted, or did she enter alone?”
The healer hummed a bit more and then smoothed an unruly red curl from the girl’s forehead. “No, this one is not human.” After patting the girl’s cheek affectionately, she pulled the cloak from around her and studied it in the firelight. He hadn’t taken the time to examine it, but the markings he’d noted as Ereubinian also indicated authority. Feeling that Aulora had said all that she was going to, Michael took the cloak and started out the door.
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