by Shelley Cass
“So that all of their power could combine and become yours. Leaving you to be the One that the world so badly needs as the tenth age draws near,” the Lady affirmed gently. “It is you, Kiana, with the magic of your ancestors alive within you, pure and strong, who can face the evil of Darziates. Not even I could do this as you can, as my magic, and everything about me, is the very Nature that Darziates corrupts. You instead control and cleanse Nature’s pure power, and I am part of that power that you draw upon to add to your own.”
Kiana’s face was very still as she gazed at the Lady. “And so there are no Unicorns left alive either?” she asked.
The Lady was sombre. “No. You are the One, the only one, who can confront Darziates.”
Kiana’s eyes lowered to stare at the flames in the hearth before her. “Then I am alone in many ways.”
“But not in all ways,” Noal admonished her then. “You have the two of us.”
“And you have the love of eccentric old Gloria too,” the Lady added quietly, her melodious voice tender.
“Thank you,” Kiana replied, controlling the emotion in her voice.
“Though no love seems to equal what I am being shown right now,” Noal exclaimed, looking down at the Granx as it hugged its legs around his thigh, blinking its many eyes at him adoringly.
“She was disheartened every time she found you all, only to be sent away,” the Lady smiled at Noal again. “Granx is enamoured by you especially, and is glad to reunite.”
“Why not?” he shrugged helplessly. “It’s understandable.”
“Our days seem to become progressively stranger,” I mused tiredly.
But Kiana straightened with returning vigour. “I would love to reunite with the two messengers you said the Willow sent into the Forest.”
“Who are they?” I asked, while the Lady stood with a smile.
“When they were transported here by the Willow’s magic, they told me their names were Ila and Amala.”
“Gods,” I uttered. “The strangeness continues.”
Chapter Seventeen
Kiana
Amala was breathing deeply and Ila was nickering in her sleep. I was nestled between them, having spent the last hours of the night in the warm space between their velvety bodies.
I’d found solace and a growing sense of peace with my silent companions, cuddling into them as they rested on the grassy floor. And I felt almost accepting of the night’s discoveries as the sun began to cascade down into the City.
Amala stirred into wakefulness first, peering at me with one eye and whinnying cheerfully when she saw that I was really there. Then she carefully picked herself up, waking Ila as she friskily shook her mane.
Ila nudged me with her nose so that I would rub her snout, and then bounded up spryly to trot beside Amala as if they were playful ponies once more.
I rose and ran my fingers over their soft sides as I passed them, and they followed me until I made my way toward the clamber of the Nymphs’ training grounds.
I leaned against the wooden fence that bordered the grounds, watching the Nymph General Ace as he floated along the lines, rumbling his way through a series of drill calls. But he turned in the air when he caught sight of me.
A number of brightly hair covered heads bobbed up from where they had been going through the exercises, and many Nymphs broke from fiercely disciplined stances to shout joyous greetings when they noticed me too.
“Asha!” Ace called, and she toppled out of line to sweep through the air and patrol in his place. Then immediately the coy, cute smiles of the Nymphs were dropped, and pointed teeth were bared as the training resumed.
Ace flew towards me, inclining his head respectfully as he did. “Well met on this morning, One,” he said in the gravelly tone that made him sound like an entirely disagreeable fellow. “What can I help you with?”
“Well met,” I replied. “I have come to ask about the captured Krall soldier.”
Ace crossed his legs and sat mid-air. “He was taken to a holding bay,” he explained gruffly, leaning an elbow on his knee. “We don’t normally have need to take prisoners, with the City being well hidden by the Lady. So we improvised and delved out a room beneath a part of the cliff walls.”
“And?” I prompted him to continue.
“And …” he grunted. “We left him to recover from the headache the Raiden had given him. He has been given food and water, but has refused to talk.”
“He has been questioned?” I asked.
“We mean him no harm,” Ace assured me. Then suddenly a wolf-like smile came across Ace’s face so that his pointed teeth showed. “But we also mean him no freedom until we have established whether Darziates still clouds his nature.”
“I understand.”
Ace’s deadly smile became reasonable then. “We do feel that he is a victim of Darziates, and we hope that since meeting you, Darziates’ hold on him has faded.”
“So it is unlikely that he is a true enemy now, and he will be safe here?” I asked.
The General barked a rough laugh. “The Elves and Nymphs could have torn all of those warriors to pieces if we had wished. In fact it was quite a feat for the Nymphs to restrain themselves once they got the taste of a fight. But we don’t think they are enemies anymore. They are just confused.”
“That’s quite judicious,” I conceded gingerly.
“Very,” he agreed. “We will only war with Darziates’ mortals when it comes to that because they will be serving him against us and we cannot break his hold over them, not because we harbour any true hate for them.”
“Yes,” I asserted. “But in regard to the warrior we hold now, I would like to talk to him.”
Ace stretched his legs out to stand in the air again. “Perhaps,” he said slowly, stroking his wiry green beard. “He may talk to you.”
“I can try. I may be able to help him to see more clearly.”
The General regarded the whirling combat practice that Asha was enthusiastically coordinating for a moment.
“Follow me,” he rumbled at last, leading me away from the training grounds, through a market place and toward the looming cliffs.
We stopped when the rocky wall was in front of us, and I could see three square chunks of the wall missing low down at ground level.
“Those are the cell windows,” he told me, and swept down to tug at the grass a yard from the wall. “Stand here. The entrance will open for you. Hopefully he’ll be responsive.”
“I appreciate it,” I told the stout General, and he nodded before heading back towards the training grounds.
I stepped up to the patch of grass with some uncertainty, but a reverberating sound came from beneath my feet and I felt the ground begin to vibrate as magic danced in the grass underneath me.
I cautiously watched the turf and marvelled as the square of earth in front of where I stood dropped away to reveal a ladder that led down into the ground.
I lowered myself into a small cavernous room, and at the end of the room found a barred door of sorts, made entirely of vertical vines and roots that looked too stiff to move.
I stepped closer to peer through the vines, and found that the Nymphs and Elves had chiselled the cell directly out of the cliff, simply removing a vast cube of the rock to make a room. Though the cell had been made overnight, I also saw that lush green grass had somehow been made to spring up from the rocky floor to carpet it, and the carved out windows I’d seen at the base of the cliff were high in the wall – letting golden light flood over a small, plush bed. A mahogany desk with some books had been set against one rocky wall, with a large wooden basin of water set upon it, along with a platter of freshly picked fruits.
But most interesting of all was the prisoner himself.
Despite his more than adequate surroundings he was miserably sitting on the grassy floor with his back against the wall. He still wore his armour but for his helmet and weapons, and was sullenly staring away from where I stood in the doorway, making a poin
ted effort to ignore any communication.
While I peered in I heard a whispering rustle, and all by themselves the roots and vines over the door loosened their hold on each other and began to part like curtains so that I could lean against the doorway, feeling the vines sweep gently closed behind me.
“Have you really been in that armour all night?” I asked curiously, an eyebrow raised, and his head whipped up to stare at me with wide eyes.
“It’s you!” he gasped with the rough sounding accent of the Krall brogue.
“You’re right,” I told him. “It’s definitely me.”
I saw the flowering purple bruise across his forehead and inwardly winced at how the pooling blood under the surface of the skin must have been paining him.
“I am Kiana.”
“Kiana?” he echoed me with wonder, as if he’d dreamed of hearing my name.
I smothered a smile. “And I recall that your name is Thorin?”
He flushed. “Yes, Thorin,” he informed me hastily.
He appeared to be a little younger than myself. His hair was a shade lighter than Dalin’s and his eyes were dark.
“Have they locked you up too?” he asked, angered at a non-existent injustice. “Where did they keep you before? Are you harmed in any way?”
I couldn’t help but laugh in surprise. “I’m no prisoner here,” I said as I eyed off his surroundings. “Though it looks like it’d be a relaxing experience.”
He finally sat up properly.
“What do you mean?” he asked with an uncertain frown. “Last night you escaped them and we found you. You were injured.”
I shook my head. “Last night I was rescued by my friends from the Krall warriors who were trying to take me to their King.”
“The strange beings are your friends? How is that so? From the night they took you we have been searching …”
I frowned at how oddly he remembered things, wondering if Dalin’s blow to had scrambled his mind. I crossed to sit on the end of the bed as Thorin’s perplexed eyes followed me.
“So far the only time I’ve been held captive was by the troop you were with,” I told him carefully. “Your General’s arrow wounded me as my comrades and I escaped your camp, and last night what remains of your troop nearly captured me again. The Elves and Nymphs have aided us.”
Thorin flinched and slumped back. He appeared suddenly woozy and pale, as if all of these events were a blur that he had blocked out of his memory.
“But we were trying to find you, you were hurt.” He put his hand to his forehead, his skin growing paler, and I leaned forward in alarm.
“Why do you think you remember things differently to what I remember?” I asked, trying to bring his focus back.
His eyes were confused, almost feverish, and for a moment he was silent and dazed. Then suddenly he looked at me piercingly.
“I know all that you say is true,” Thorin whispered. “We were the ones who hurt you. We were your enemies, meant to take you to Darziates, but then you … you showed us your power. And it was … pure.”
He shook his head, a vague cloudiness again coming into his eyes, and worry started to gnaw at my insides. Something was wrong with him.
“All of us who survived and saw your power at once felt suddenly free, as if the darkness that Darziates has always forced upon us had eased, and we came after you because – we wanted to help you. Or … to give you to Darziates? Or to keep you for ourselves?” his voice trailed off and his body began to shake so much that his armour rattled.
“What’s wrong?” I asked urgently, quickly crossing to crouch beside him. I saw his eyes roll back and all of the blood had now drained from his face.
“Thorin?” I asked, trying to snap him back into wakefulness.
I put my hand to his burning forehead, and the instant that I touched his skin, his eyes flashed open and he lunged forward to grip both my arms. I cried out in surprise as his hands gripped my biceps like vices.
“Get off her!” growled a voice from behind me and I looked over my shoulder to see Noal and Dalin charging through the vines at the door.
“Shush the pair of you,” I stilled them with a glance. “He’s not trying to hurt me, something’s wrong with him.”
They both stopped at my words, but Dalin loomed angrily where he stood.
“Thorin?” I asked. “What is happening to you?”
Thorin fought to keep his eyes open, and was gritting his teeth. “It’s as if admitting the truth is killing me!” he managed to gasp. “But I need to tell you … Each of my comrades have felt the same, each have felt loyalty to you, but because of Darziates they have been too afraid to admit it … This is the first time I have completely admitted what has really happened and look what it’s doing to me!”
I glanced desperately at Dalin and Noal to find that Dalin’s anger was wearing off and Noal now wore an expression of horror.
“I think I’m fighting Darziates’ hold on me! I can feel his fingers around my mind, clawing at my brain, telling me you will only be safe if I take you to him.” Thorin moaned and I felt his hands start to lose strength and slip away from my arms. “Everything feels like it’s fighting inside my head –”
Abruptly his voice broke off into a yell of pain, and then he sank back, unconscious.
My heart was beating fast. “Noal,” I spun around. “Get help.”
“Dalin, pull him up,” I ordered as Noal rushed from the room, and with gritted teeth Dalin stooped to haul the armoured young warrior up and across to the bed.
I tried to check if Thorin was breathing clearly, though in the spiked armour he could hardly even be laid down comfortably.
“This is ridiculous!” I hissed. “Help me get the armour off.”
But Dalin grunted angrily. “This is one of the men who has been trying to kill us,” he reminded me.
“You have seen that isn’t his fault, he is under Darziates’ power,” I retorted as he began to hastily help me unbuckle the armour’s chest plate. “You heard for yourself that Thorin no longer wants to be an enemy.”
“And I pity that he is a victim of Darziates.” Dalin pulled the plate and the spiked shoulder pieces away to begin tugging at Thorin’s chain mail shirt. “I mourn that nearly everyone in Krall is stuck under the Sorcerer’s power, but as horrible as it is – it’s true,” Dalin panted with the effort of helping me. “The people of Krall are under the Sorcerer’s power. And this particular Krall citizen has proven to be a violent warrior. Do you really think one of Darziates’ own soldiers is converted? That he can suddenly be cured of Darziates, as much as he wants it?”
“Didn’t you hear any of what Thorin said?” I joined Dalin in pulling the chain mail over the warrior’s head.
“I heard his confession, but how can we ever trust someone who could be under Darziates’ power? This could all be Darziates’ trickery.”
I heard footsteps hurrying down the ladder outside.
“I’ve never seen you like this,” I said to Dalin then, disconcerted. “I have never known you to be so hard toward another.”
“That was before I had to fight this same soldier to stop him from taking you from me twice,” Dalin answered heatedly.
Chloris and Silvanus rushed into the room behind Noal, then we were swept out of the cell amidst an urgent flurry of movement to revive the fallen warrior.
Chapter Eighteen
Noal
Dalin was pale and fuming when we found ourselves outside Thorin’s cave-like prison. Kiana was silent and brooding with her arms crossed. But almost immediately the tension was broken when Flash and Rebel darted out from the trees dramatically, rushing towards us.
“Is all well?” Kiana asked them, softening her stance as they jolted to a stop in the air breathlessly.
“One,” Flash gasped.
“Raiden,” Rebel wheezed.
“Noal,” they puffed, acknowledging plain old me together.
“We’ve lost an Elf.” Flash’s silvery hair
stood on end. “We think it’s the seriousness.”
Dalin’s countenance softened quickly then too.
Rebel raised orange eyebrows in worry. “Bard was last seen leaving the City to hunt, saying he needed to be more active, for he felt too serious!”
“How long ago did he leave?” I asked uneasily.
“This is the second day since he left, and he would normally be back by now,” Rebel answered anxiously.
“Frarshk,” Dalin cursed under his breath. “Did he go by himself?”
“Bard swore he wouldn’t go far in case the seriousness got the better of him,” Flash cringed, wringing his tiny hands. “And usually if an Elf realises they are getting too withdrawn for themselves, they can control it. But we’ve looked around all of the nearest places.”
“It’s all this talk of war and Darziates,” Rebel moaned. “It reminds the Elves of the stifling of Nature that Darziates will cause if he wins, which will kill the Forest dwellers who draw life from it. An Elf can’t help but get serious and want to be close to precious Nature with all of that looming!”
“It’s worse for Bard though,” Flash interjected. “He’s one of the oldest Elves in the Forest. He did not choose to stop at two hundred. So his mind already wanders and he has to stay regularly active.”
“The best hunting would be close to water,” Kiana evaluated the facts.
“So he probably would have stayed in the direction of the river on this side of the Forest, where he exited the City,” Dalin joined her.
“We’ll need a search organised,” Kiana added.
“Is it best not to bring other Elves out into the Forest at the moment, then?” I asked the Nymphs.
Rebel nodded. “We don’t want more wanderers. It’s why we came to you, and why we took such a small group to find Kiana. While most Elves are using the thought of the impending war to spur on their training and to think of action, if they leave the distraction of City life for the depths of the Forest, it could be a challenge.”
“Pick five stable Elves,” Kiana said. “And gather a small troop of your kindred.”
Dalin was nodding in agreement. “It would be best if the Elves you choose also enjoy to hunt so that they can identify decent hunting grounds he could be lost in.”