Silent Kingdom

by Rachel L. Schade

  “I haven’t shot yet!” Shilam protested.

  I strode over to Avrik and grasped his arm. Frowning, he glanced down at me, reading my expression as only he could do. “Already?” he sighed. Then his countenance hardened. “You really are afraid, aren’t you? How can you believe—?”

  Bren cut him off. “Avrik, do not be angry with her. There’s no harm in being careful. She’s not accusing your father of anything by believing Marke’s story.”

  Avrik cringed and spun toward him. “Do you believe it?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. I think there could be something to it—but you know I trust your father. Those who truly know him do not place their faith in the town gossip about him.”

  “Not many people like my father, and you know it,” Avrik said. I could hear a slight tremor to his voice.

  Shilam broke in. “That is only because he has kept to himself. People will spread their gossip—let them. Those who matter don’t believe it. You needn’t be so defensive.”

  Avrik’s eyes were fiery. “How would you behave if it were your father being accused of…of murder?” he spat.

  “We’re not the ones—” Bren began, but a dark form launched from the woods and cut his words short.

  Somehow Avrik saw the sedwa a second before it leapt on him. He stumbled backward, avoiding the sedwa’s pounce and collapsing in the snow with the creature snarling down at him. Stringing an arrow to my bow, I inhaled deeply to steady my aim and shot for one of the sedwa’s golden eyes. As I released the arrow, the creature sprang again and I pierced one of its paws instead. Avrik kicked, his booted leg driving into the sedwa’s midsection and working its momentum against it so that it flew backward. It rolled in the snow, snarling and leaving a trail of slick black blood behind it.

  My mouth was dry and my limbs were shaking. On either side of me, Shilam and Bren were fumbling for arrows, still grasping what was happening. Only Avrik, his years of hunting honing him for moments such as these, seemed to be fully in control of mind and body as he jumped smoothly to his feet and drew another arrow, his eyes never leaving the sedwa. Growling, it staggered to a crouch and began slinking backward toward the shadows of the forest. In the growing darkness, all I could see was a mass of black fur and scales and shimmering golden eyes trained on Avrik.

  There was a breathless minute in which Shilam, Bren, and I were motionless, unable to react as the sedwa and Avrik stared each other down. Then, with an angry cry, Avrik charged.

  My throat constricted and I longed to be able to shout out. My brain screamed instead: Avrik, you fool! It’s still dangerous!

  He pounded through the snow, chasing the sedwa as it slunk back, eying him with hatred and preparing for another strike. Shilam and Bren were firing now, but the beast darted past the tree line and their arrows fell useless. Avrik disappeared into the forest after the sedwa.

  “Avrik! What are you doing?” Shilam shouted. He strung another arrow to his bow and chased after his friend.

  Bren and I scrambled after them, my pulse pounding so loudly as I sprinted into the woods that I could hardly hear anything else.

  Somewhere ahead, the sedwa’s snarls echoed off the trees. Then another cry rang through the night: a sound that sent shudders through my body. It was a voice almost more familiar than my own, so long had it been since I had been able to speak. Avrik.

  It’s too late; it’s too late. The thought pounded through my head viciously with every pump of my legs, every gasp for air. Bare twigs reached for my face and scratched my cheeks. I stumbled through snow and mud and over roots jutting up in my path. I wasn’t sure which way I was running or if I was still going in the direction from which Avrik’s cry had come, but I didn’t dare slow. My bow weighed heavily in my hand yet my grip remained firm. Somewhere beside me Bren was charging through the trees, but I was only vaguely aware of his presence. Panic had overtaken my every thought. My friend was gone, or soon would be.

  I plunged through a tangle of underbrush and stumbled into a clearing to see a form ahead. He was huddled at the edge of the clearing, and I couldn’t make out his face in the darkness. I wished I could say his name, say anything, but I stood there gasping for breath and half-afraid to step nearer. Where was the sedwa? I glanced up at the sound of rustling and saw Bren dash around from the opposite end of the clearing, closer to the still figure.

  “Elena? Bren?” It was Shilam’s voice quavering in the darkness.

  My emotions unleashed in a strange mixture of relief and fear. Shilam was alive, but where was Avrik?

  “What happened?” Bren asked, kneeling before Shilam. He scanned the trees warily before laying his bow at his feet and reaching out to his friend.

  “I don’t think I am badly wounded, but Avrik…he’s still out there with that…that monster…”

  “Let me see it. I think you will be all right but we need to staunch the blood flow…”

  My own thoughts drowned out Bren’s voice. I felt my fingers fastening around my bow as courage mixed with fear and adrenaline coursed through my being. I broke into another sprint, tearing through the forest, away from the sound of Shilam’s and Bren’s voices.

  The pleas in my head sounded eerily like the ones I’d once offered up for my uncle. Life-Giver, if you’ve ever listened to me, listen now and spare Avrik. A dozen awful thoughts flitted through my head as I imagined Avrik trying to fight off the sedwa. I will do anything you want, but do not take my friend.

  Some of the snow drifts were so huge that I sank waist-deep into them and crawled out wet and shivering. I slipped and stumbled over patches of ice, sometimes snatching at a tree branch to catch myself. The twigs clawed at my face as the forest closed in around me, the sky all but disappearing under a patchwork of gnarled branches. Darkness deepened and clouds gathered over the moon, hiding everything except a few lone stars. My breath was loud and ragged in my ears; snapping twigs echoed in the quiet, but I heard no other sounds, no sign that either the sedwa or Avrik were near. In the shadows, the forest was silent.

  At last my lungs screamed for air and a persistent stitch in my side forced me to a walk. Sweat snaked down the back of my neck but the chill breeze rattling through the branches quickly made me shiver. Gradually the trees thinned out again and I found myself in another clearing, this one even larger than the last. I stopped and tried to search the blackness, but it was impossible to see far into the night. My fingers trembled as I brought them close to my face, yanked off my shooting gloves, and blew warm air over them.

  Then, without the warning of approaching footsteps, I heard a man’s voice ahead of me. “Who is there?”

  I started, my heart leaping in fear, until I realized the voice was familiar. Kyrin. Had he found his son? Hope flooded through me. I rushed forward, but paused in the middle of the clearing when I saw the figure standing amongst the trees. The man was alone, armed with his bow, and as he plodded toward me under the open sky, a patch of starlight fell on his face.

  Although it had been four full years since the last incident, it happened again: a revelation came to me, hitting me with the force and suddenness of an unseen blow.

  Kyrin was in a small side room set apart from the main dining room at the inn, sitting at a table across from a member of the Royal Guard. Firelight from the hearth beside them flickered off their faces as Kyrin leaned forward.

  “I have lost enough in this life. I’ll do anything to keep my son safe, to ensure he is never called to war.”

  The guard pulled an envelope, marked with the royal seal, the dragon

  Vehgar, from his cloak pocket. “Then I have a mission for you from the king. He is willing to pay handsomely for it and will never call on Avrik to join his army, in exchange for your silence. One word about this to anyone else—including your son—and you will die.”

  The scene shifted. Deep in the forest, Kyrin crouched in one of the trees, his dark cloak pulled closely about him to help him blend into the shadows. He tugged on his bowstring and relea
sed an arrow—letting it fly toward the golden eyes gleaming back at him from the blackness.

  My eyes jerked open. My visions have returned! And just as before, I could not hold back the truth once it came to me. My voice squirmed up my throat and slithered across my tongue, coming out in a raspy whisper. “You are hunting the sedwa for the king.”

  The words cut through the air, sharper than the edges of the icicles clinging to the trees. I blinked and bit my lip, dumbfounded at the sound of my own voice.

  Kyrin stopped midstride. Snow dusted the scruff on his chin and melted in his hair, brown mingled with grey. A sneer twisted his lips. “So, you’re not a mute after all. Look who else has been keeping secrets.”

  Mouth dry, I groped for the arrows in my quiver, but to my horror I found I was down to one. I hadn’t thought to pause to fill my quiver before chasing after Avrik.

  Kyrin strung an arrow to his bow, and my shaking fingers responded by notching my last arrow to mine. “The sedwa haven’t bested me; do you think you can?” he demanded.

  Before I could react, he released his arrow and pierced my right arm. Pain screamed through it. Jerking back, I lost my grip on my bowstring, sending my arrow soaring high until it landed harmlessly behind Kyrin.

  Groaning, I dropped my bow and staggered backward. My pulse crashed against my ears and I resisted the urge to claw at the arrow in my arm as searing pain roared all the way up to my shoulder and down to my fingertips.

  Kyrin lowered his bow with a gloating smile. “Out of options?”

  My mind felt paralyzed with fear and pain, but one thought echoed through my head with piercing clarity: Run.

  CHAPTER 10

  Spinning around, I sprinted back into the forest, snapping twigs and skidding on ice. He was all but silent behind me, possessing the surefooted, swift pursuit of a hunter, until I felt strong arms grasp mine and jerk me backward. One of his hands caught at the arrow in my arm, breaking the shaft and making blood ooze from the wound. Screaming, I squirmed, yanked myself free, and tumbled into the snow.

  Kyrin snatched my hair in his fist and dragged me through the snowdrifts. I cried out and clawed at his arm, but he didn’t let go until we were back in the clearing. My scalp burned, my head ached, and my arm throbbed and left a bloody trail in the snow. I stared up at sky, tracing the sharp edges of the tree limbs clawing at it, as if desperate for escape from this world. I cringed as Kyrin bent over me, a coil of rope in his hands.

  “It’s unfortunate you chose to run into the forest at night. Lyanna and Rev will be worried sick about you, and Avrik will miss you, but sadly, by the time I find you deep in the forest where you lost yourself, it will be too late. I will discover your mangled body, just as I found that guard’s years ago.”

  I struggled, punched, kicked; I even spit in his face, but he was twice my weight and his work was effortless. He bound my arms behind me, tying one end of the rope around my wrists and the other around the trunk of the nearest tree.

  After years of being mysteriously mute, I wasn’t sure if my voice would still be there now. Perhaps it had only returned to deliver my most recent fatal message. To my surprise, when I tried, the words fell easily from my lips. “How can you do this?” I shouted, my voice cracking in the frigid air. I yanked futilely against the rope. The trunk trembled, shaking the branches and dusting me with snow. “You’re endangering your own son! He is out here somewhere, being attacked by one of the sedwa, because of you.”

  “You should know that I, of all people, know how to find and protect my own son. He will return home safely tonight. I am giving him food and shelter and ensuring us protection from the king and his guard; he will never be called upon to enter the war. As for the lives I endanger…I hold no allegiance to the hateful people of Evren.” His steamy breath followed his words, ghostly in the silver light glancing off the snow. “And no matter what you mean to Avrik, I will let you die before I see his own life in danger.” For a moment, his gaze seemed almost to soften. “It is a shame he will have to lose you. But think of it as an honor, Elena, to die to save the life of a friend.”

  Then he was gone, winding his way through the trees, leaving me breathless, without a single retort on my lips. Of course. Of course he would do this for Avrik. He would do anything for Avrik.

  Exhaling slowly, trying to still the racing of my heart, I watched my breath escape, rising in the dim light. The snow under my cloak dissolved into icy water that seeped all the way to my skin. I tugged and strained against the rope until my left arm ached almost as much as my right and my wrists were raw and bleeding nearly as much as my wound. Minutes stretched into hours and the night deepened. Trying to shut out the eerie silence and the memories of the sedwa, I collapsed in the snow. Not an owl, not a squirrel, not a single animal showed itself or made a sound. It was too quiet, even for a night in the dead of winter. Never a good sign.

  I imagined something lurking among the trees nearby, something with claws and fangs. This is not how I want to die.

  Abruptly, my fear and despair erupted into anger and I screamed at the sky. All those years of silence, all those years without visions or a need to share the truth…they did nothing to save me. Why did I suddenly have to speak now? Where did my voice go, and why did it return?

  The waiting was the worst. My half-hearted hope that Shilam and Bren were safe and would come searching for me faded. Even if they are looking, what are the chances they’ll find me in time? And what if they are hurt or…

  Or worse?

  I lay shaking in the snow, wet, freezing, and terrified. As the dark clouds swirled overhead, they covered what little starlight I’d had and deepened the night from charcoal to black.

  A noise shattered the silence and my head snapped up. I scanned the trees ahead fruitlessly. Though I could not see anything, I knew I wasn’t alone. Something was breathing, its slow, heavy exhalations nearly matching my own, nearly fading into the night without a trace and leaving my mind wondering if I were imagining the sound. But I was not. The sound of its breaths continued, rising and falling, and the sounds were coming closer.

  My teeth chattered. I scrambled to my feet and yanked against the rope again. More snow. More of the rope digging into my raw, bleeding skin.

  Then I saw it: a huge, four-legged shadow lurking at the edge of the trees. No sound escaped my mouth. I was weaponless, bound, and defenseless; there was nothing I could do to save myself. I bowed my head and squeezed my eyes shut in a pathetic attempt to block out the paralyzing fear. It’s not real, it’s not…

  But I knew pretending could not stop the attack.

  A heavy, scaly mass collided with my chest and shoved me back into the snow. I heard a scream spear the air before I realized it was coming from my own mouth. In seconds, my brain registered several facts, as adrenaline heightened all my senses. Hot breath tickled my cheek, sending chills rolling down my back. Pain from several points—the sedwa’s claws—digging deeply into my chest began to radiate outward, and the weight of its body was so great I thought my lungs were being crushed, my breath coming in shallow gasps, my head spinning. The snow beneath me was so cold it burned my skin. Sweat trickled across my temple, toward my ear. I’d landed on my hands, bound and pinned beneath me, but the rope tying me to the tree had snapped. My eyes sprang open to the sight that had haunted my nightmares: golden orbs, with pupils like wide slits into a bottomless abyss, glared back. Dark fur bristled along its neck. The sedwa’s scaly black jaw opened to reveal its yellow fangs, dripping with warm, rancid saliva that dribbled onto my cheek.

  With a grunt, I kneed the creature in its stomach. The sedwa only responded with a snarl and swiped one of its paws at my face. I turned my head in time and its claws brushed air.

  I refused to accept my fate. I would not die. Not now. Not here.

  As suddenly as the sedwa landed on me, the weight lifted from my chest. I opened my eyes to see it hunched several yards away. It snarled but kept its body low, fur bristling and scales flash
ing in the moonlight. As I watched, it slowly backed up, like a terrified animal that knew it had met its match. I blinked in confusion. Was it retreating?

  Then I realized that it was not even looking at me, but glaring at something behind me. My blood ran cold. I scanned the ground, searching for a rock, a branch—anything I could attempt to grasp with my bound hands and use to defend myself. If I had to die, I would die fighting as a daughter of kings, heir of the great Eldon, and not as a child, whimpering and wounded in the snow.

  With a cry I wrenched myself into a sitting position and glanced over my shoulder. The dark form of a man stood motionless behind me. As I squinted in the darkness, I could not make out any weapons strapped to his belt or back, and his hands, clenched into fists at his sides, held no blades; but all manner of daggers and knives could easily be concealed within his cloak or boots. A hood hung low over his face, shrouding his features in shadow and making his expression inscrutable. All I could discern was the strong line of his jaw, his head held high as he stared in the direction of the sedwa—or me. Though his clothing was tattered and weatherworn and he wielded no visible weapons, his mere presence radiated something mysterious and powerful; something that made my tongue cleave to my mouth and my breath catch in my chest, something that made the moments slow and the very air about me seem to still.

  I heard another growl and dared to turn back toward the sedwa as it slunk away into the woods. Had the man done that with a mere look? I wanted to look brave to mask my fear, but my body trembled.

  What sort of man could wield power this fearsome, that a mere look could send monsters fleeing before him?

  “Halia!” a voice cried.

  I jerked in shock. My name, my real name. How…?

  Striding forward, the stranger knelt beside me. He threw back his hood to reveal short brown hair sweeping over a brow crinkled with concern. Several days’ worth of stubble dotted his face. His complexion was tanned, as if from frequent exposure to the sun, and the scent of the forest was strong on him: it was a pleasant aroma, comforting rather than repelling.