The Shadow of Our Stars: The Tales of Evinar

by Alexander Richter

  “Are you okay?”

  Elise was limp on the ground, unconscious.

  Gradually, her eyelids flickered open.

  “Make sure she doesn’t move,” said a manly voice. “Those will need time to set or your work will be for nothing.”

  A plethora of voices chattered inside the tiny space she lay. There was a fragrance wafting through the air, it reminded Elise of her childhood, the smell of lavender and sweet lemongrass. It was the same scent her mother used to bathe her in when she was young.

  Elise reached for the ceiling.

  “Easy there.” A hand rested on her arched back.

  “Where’s Moonlight? Where’re my things?” Elise’s eyes darted around the face filled room. Where the wolf’s bite was, the clothing had been sliced with a dagger. She noticed an amateur attempt at stitches. They crossed like zig-zags with varied knot sizes. “What have you done?” Her voice was weakened and low.

  “You fainted,” a voice informed her. “There’s a gash on your shoulder. We’ve tied it up as best we could.”

  “But…” Elise shifted from side to side. “The sword, where’s the sword?”

  A pair of tiny hands lifted the blade to Elise’s eye level.

  “Don’t worry about that. You’ll need your rest. The wound looks like it's been going for some time. What gave it to you?”

  “Wolves,” she muttered. “A pack of, wolves.”

  The speculation of her fate puzzled the expressions of many.

  “Lie back down. Sayna will keep to your bedside for the night. The night is still young. Nix will surely attempt to break inside and kidnap as many children as he can before tomorrow arrives.”

  “And what of Moonlight?” Elise muttered half between sleep.

  “She has been hidden and fed,” he replied gesturing her to lie back down. “She is resting with some of the other orphans as we speak.”

  “Thank you,” Elise whispered before she fell back asleep. “Where’s… my… key?”

  Sunlight blared into Elise’s eyes through an unbarred crevice, waking her. She wiggled her fingers immediately and found they responded.

  “Look who's awoken,” said a heavily accented woman. “Finally.”

  “Where am I?”

  “You’re on West Row, the same place you’ve been the last sixteen times you’ve asked.”

  Elise ran her fingers over the tightly bound purpled skin of her right shoulder.

  “I’m no artist,” the woman said laughing at critical eyes. “And you squirm too much.”

  Elise grinned nervously.

  “We haven’t had a proper introduction yet… I’m Sayna.” She said as she handed over a pouch of water. “Who would I have the pleasure of tending to?” Sayna was a frail woman who dressed in a rather antique collection of garments beneath a blood-stained apron. Her fingers twisted and curled in inhumane ways, she was of elder days. Her skin was pale and telling by her accent, she wasn’t from Fayhollow. Her accent was much more northern in origin, hailing from the wildlands of the Upper Kingdoms.

  “Elise,” she replied, gulping down the pouch in its entirety. “How long have I been asleep?”

  “A few nights.”

  “A few nights!” she said in distress adding unwanted tension to her stitches.

  “You barely had enough strength to swallow water, let alone ride on top of that horse you have— she’s safe if I might add. You’ve asked me that question enough times as well.” Sayna retrieved a damp rag and blotted the pus from her patient’s shoulder. “Mind telling me how you came to be unlucky enough to be bitten by a wolf?”

  “Long story.”

  “We have time,” Sayna responded bluntly. “It’s not very often people live to tell the tale.”

  Feeling pressured to give some extraordinary exposition, Elise recounted the events in the Arran Mountains, of the pack she slew. Sayna gasped as if she were reliving the tale through her words. But the lines on her face normalized when she explained the alpha she’d slain.

  “And you killed the pack leader?” she asked, wanting Elise to tell the part of the story again. “How courageous.”

  “I’d hardly call charging at a wolf with a giant sword, courageous. Having said that, I feel stupid saying it aloud. I am immensely lucky I have lived.”

  “That must make you the new pack leader then,” Sayna said.

  The statement turned Elise’s face sour.

  “How do you reckon?”

  “Just that. You’ve killed the alpha, now they are at the mercy of your command. Those are the behavioral characteristics of wolves.”

  “I’m not so sure that’s how it works.”

  “Then you would be the same person who dismisses the possibilities of a wolf’s bite, especially that of which given by a white wolf. I have tended to a She-wolf before. Very stern woman, but divine in her own right.”

  “Are you saying I’ll magically grow a tail and become one of which who hunted me?” Elise laughed causing her shoulder to tense. “Ouch!”

  “Madder things have happened my dear,” Sayna said in rebuttal. “You’ve survived. Even these kinds of things have larger meanings behind them.”

  Elise read Sayna’s face the way a child would when they were told a lie. The idea of furred beasts listening to someone, not of their kind, was simply foolish. And the mere theory that she’d turn into a wolf herself, was preposterous. Elise’s brow knitted. “If growing a tail helps me heal faster,” she said sarcastically, “then I’m all in. But I cannot deal with the fleas.”

  The room’s oak door swung ajar. Passing under the arch, strutted the jet-black haired child, only this time, covered with splattered traces of blood. “About time,” he said, as he approached the bedside pale to wet his face. “Nix has been brutal these last few nights— raids and kidnappings.”

  “They will end soon, Ordy,” Sayna said, shuffling for a bit of thread to close the rip in his tunic. “The day will come.”

  “Someone knows you’re hiding here,” Ordy said. The scar of his neck wiggled as he gulped down water. “They called your name as they’ve blustered through the streets last night— yelled ’the albino burns while the scavenger hides.’ ”

  “But I’m not hiding—“

  “That’s not the way they see it.”

  “Who are they?” Elise queried.

  “The Blacksword’s Guild,” Ordy said. “Nix. He is their leader. He runs half of Fayhollow from Hind Street and on. Been a few tough times since he started coming door to door threatening people. They’re too scared to do something. It is we orphans who got to make things right.”

  The idea that a group of children were the only ones with the courage enough to stand up to this evil “Nix” astounded Elise.

  “People are being murdered nightly,” Ordy continued. “There’s hardly an adult alive that isn’t part of the guild. Now that’s pure fear and pure power.”

  “There, there,” Sayna said finishing the stitch on Ordy’s tunic. “Enough talk of war.”

  “It’s the truth,” Ordy finished. “What I don’t reckon, is why you would come, unguarded into the city under your own will. Business? There’s no such business that I would travel here willingly for. We orphans would do anything to get out. But they’d shoot us dead before we reached the exit. What is it that grants you the immunity?”

  “A meeting at the Headless King. There’s—“

  “You mean the sword over there?” Ordy’s eyes pointed to the broadsword sitting on the lid of a chest.

  “What do you know about it?” Elise said rising from her bed to claim the artifact back into her hands.

  “Only what word the other orphans have been saying. Some kind of lost artifact with magical powers… you know there’s a jewel missing from the hilt?”

  Truth was, Elise had not noticed a missing jewel on the sword’s hilt. There hadn’t been much time to examine the darn thing while traveling on horseback with wolves attacking her. A deep impression, the size of a g
old piece, sat empty. Had she missed something?

  “Whoever wants that sword, they won’t take kindly to its incompleteness.”

  “Are you suggesting something then?”

  “Run.”

  “Run?” Elise repeated. “Why?”

  “So you may live.”

  “Are you implying they will kill me?”

  “I dunno if you’ve noticed or when the last time you stuck your nose in Fayhollow, but that’s what they do. They have others do their bidding for them, with the promises of great rewards, only to stab them in the back when the job is—“

  “Ordy!”

  “What is it?” he turned to see a trio of orphans in the door jam breathless and wide-eyed.

  “The guild… they’re storming the row in greater numbers.”

  “In broad daylight?” he cried in anguish. “Haven’t they have some decency for our sleep.”

  “I must go,” Elise declared, grabbing her trinkets and swinging her satchel around her neck. “You’ve all done enough and I thank you kindly.” She wrapped the broadsword back into a piece of linen. “Where’s Moonlight?”

  “In the stable across the row. She’s being guarded. Quite an attached horse if I say so myself. Has been stressed ever since we separated you. But it’s not safe to just walk across. The guild will be watching.”

  Clashes and clanking echoed throughout West Row’s narrow alley. The Blacksword’s Guild smashed stones through frosted windows and threw burning torches at combustible woodpiles. The guild’s members were covered from head to toe in black garbs and their identities were concealed behind oversized hoods. “Come out cut throats!” they all chanted in between sinister sneers.

  “Who are they calling cut throats?” Ordy gritted his teeth. His fist rolled into balls. “It’s them who want us dead! Ah, rats! I want to kill them all! It may be wise we get you out of here before they have their way with you. I suggest you return to wherever it is you came from unless you want to be a casualty in this feud. Not the Headless King… it will be a death trap if you do.”

  “I’ll take my chances,” Elise said taking none of the advice Ordy had given her. Even if there was a possibility of betrayal, the chance that her work would be well paid for, prevailed. The eastern lands were not to be forgotten over a quarrel between children and crooks. “Show me to my horse.”

  “As you wish.” Ordy was surprised by her arrogance. He instructed the trio of orphans lingering in the hallway to lead Elise to Moonlight. “Soren be with you.” He picked up his makeshift double-head battle-ax and headed straight into danger, the way he enjoyed.

  “And with you all too.”

  Elise scrambled down a steep rickety staircase, through a kitchen chamber, and weaved through barracks overflowing with orphans hard at work building weapons with what they could scavenge. They were preparing for the worst. But interestingly enough, their faces showed no signs of distress. Their faces were blank and relaxed. The sign of a seasoned warrior. It was disturbing for Elise to witness. How numb has death made these children?

  They came to the servant’s quarters in the back of the house. There was an opening where a door once sat but now was guarded by two plump looking boys as round as plums. Stuffed in their fattening grips were spiked clubs and little round pellets.

  “We need some cover boys,” the leader said.

  “Right you are,” they grinned in response setting down their clubs and retrieving more of the pellets from a crate resting on the ground. “Fire away!” Like a pesky nuisance, the plum boys threw the pellet rounds onto the row each one echoed in a loud explosion with jets of grey smoke jetting through them. The entirety of West Row was hidden under a veil of smoke. “There you are.”

  “Thank you, Roddy,” the leader said patting him on his hunched back. “This way, Miss.”

  Elise stayed close as they navigated through the chaos. She could barely see a meter in front of her. The guild had returned the favor and threw fruit sized explosives to clear the distraction. Elise crouched as low as she could. Commotion was aggravating the sutures. They began to bleed again. “Popped a stitch,” she thought to herself pressing her hand against the wound. There was a tenderness to the surrounding tissue that made her cheeks flinch.

  They entered through the sill of a window. The front door had been boarded shut with nails. In the tea room, Elise saw the white glittered of Moonlight. Her head was pressed up against the ceiling, and her gash had met the same care, crooked stitches.

  The horse neighed in delight.

  Crowded around a warmly lit fireplace on tatty-old armchairs were the brave faces of three more orphans. They didn’t tell Elise their names, but she guessed it was because they didn’t have ones. “Thank you,” she said kindly.

  “You’d better go out the back,” The leader motioned towards a beam-split opening. “That’ll take you onto Ironwood Street which leads into Cross Lane if you intend on keeping to your business.”

  There was a moment where Elise wanted to stay and help the orphans fight, but the feeling of freedom, which they would never amount to in their lives, wrenched her onto Ironwood Street. The orphans said their farewells and waved goodbye to Moonlight and Elise as they disappeared into the depths of Fayhollow.

  It was midday. Three days had passed since Elise fainted. That meant she was late for her appointment at the Headless King Inn. Elise prayed to Soren that the buyer would not be displeased with her results. After all, the sword was found. But the idea that this was all a trap haunted her more.

  26

  Silent trees had never meant so much to Abbott as they did now. The strangeness of the forest haunted him no longer with the new foreseen horizon ahead. Together with Quinn, they would still need to pass through Mornia, and there was a great chance of a second capture. The dryads did own these lands.

  While claiming another victory over her sworn enemy, Quinn wasted no time putting as much distance between them as possible. She'd already begun looking through the barrel of her stellascope. They needed to determine the safest direction to pass through the foliage with the secret stream lost. But Quinn needed to be more cautious this time.

  “What're you hunting for?” Quinn asked, dropping her stellascope. Abbott flipped through the pages of her father’s field guide in a dreadful kind of a manner.

  “The pool of water back there. I want to know what it is,” he explained. The contents of the field guide were written in no real order. Martin’s entries rambled on and on about things even his daughter lacked the proper understanding of. “The page… it's been torn out.”

  “What?” Quinn said in disbelief. “Let me see.” She yanked the field guide from his grasp without permission and ran her narrow finger down a line of paper that ripple like the waves of the ocean. “It has indeed.”

  “Why would he have ripped it out?”

  “How would I know?” she snapped. “Even I know my papa was a kind all his own. Whatever was on this page either was rubbish or rather dangerous to be written. Come to think of it, this entire book is dangerous. Imagine if someone in your world read it. They’d go nutty.”

  “And you know nothing of the pool yourself?”

  “I invent things and steal the things I cannot invent. I don’t write down every thought that crosses the bridge of my mind, let alone badger my papa over his. Anyways, why does it even matter to you? While you were giving an awkwardly heartfelt thank you to that tree lady, I landed some pretty good items. One of which is a map through the Spine Mountains.” Quinn unfolded a fragment of parchment the size of an autumn leaf. Written in red ink, the scrap of paper detailed a route through the mountain pass.

  “It’s no use to us unless it tells us exactly where to go,” he said. “I can’t risk getting lost again. It's cost us a lot of time already.”

  “At least it’s something!” Quinn barked, “I don’t see you throwing out any brighter ideas.”

  “Like you expect me to know anything about where we are. I don’t know if
you’ve forgotten, but Woolbury is my home. I know Woolbury. Not this…this place! It's outlandish to think I have the knowledge to suggest anything.”

  “Then you could at least trust me to lead the way. I’ve had enough of you trying to say what’s best. If you are as clueless as you claim to be, then hand over the reins and let me steer this madness.”

  Abbott paced back and forth through the forest while Quinn waited for him to regain consciousness at the moment.

  “What will it be then? Follow through with going to Oak Hill or take our chances with the map?”

  “Either way, we risk getting captured by those things again. But time is not on our side.”

  “This could very well save us time.”

  “I hope so.”

  Quinn’s thin lips widened in contentment. “If you’d be so kind as to take off that tunic now. I can’t stand to smell that odor the entire way.”

  The Forest of Mornia came with no additional grudges. Passage through came without the slightest hiccup, but they’d ended up a lot further north than where they had originally entered, which proved helpful in lessening their journey on foot.

  According to the parchment, they would be walking through the Dawnburrow Crossings before intersecting with the Winding River. After that came the true test of their combined will. The Spine Mountains. So named by their sharp and soaring appearances, the region was untraversable according to Martin's guide. Winds were not too keen to those who ascended their peaks. They brewed up storms that could freeze the flesh of any being and stop the blood flow within a matter of minutes without any warning. This would be their greatest challenge.

  Quinn knew the risk if they went over them. Luckily, there may be a chance to pass through them instead, a much safer route altogether. But that possibility relied on the map holding truth.

  Quinn blazed through the thicket, her mind troubling her. Where was Ara? It was unlike her character to disappear for this long. She started to contemplate. Ara may have fallen victim to a similar fate as her father. “I've done it this time,” she said, searching the blue skies for her lost friend. The sun was aloft. If Ara were to search for them, it would be under darkness.