“How much longer is it to Fylin forest?” he asked, in an attempt to make conversation.
Shaya snapped out of her trance and looked over at him.
“Another four, maybe five hours,” she said quietly.
“This Shale better be worth this trip, he better have the answers we seek.”
“What do you know about him?”
“Not a great deal I’m afraid. My father rarely spoke of him. He once called him a guardian of this land. Old and wise he’s said to be, and in times of crisis, he gave my father council and his father.”
“Do you think he’ll help us?”
“Father regards him as a friend and puts his trust in him. My father is no fool. He’ll help us, he’ll know what to do.”
“Good. Well once we’ve spoken to him, and my uncle reaches us, I guess that’ll be the end of our little adventure.”
The prince paused for a moment “I suppose it will,” he said finally.
“Back to farm life, where the biggest worry is bad weather ruining the crops,” Shaya looked down at the piece of dried grass she’d been twiddling around her fingers “Back to normality,” she said solemnly.
“Well,” the prince began “We don’t know what Shale will say. You may have to come with me. Us, Elle and myself,” he corrected himself quickly.
“Really?” said Shaya looking up at him.
“Well we did share a dream, it must mean something.”
Shaya paused, remembering her dream, it was only the night before, but it already felt like such a long time ago.
“What do you think it means?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” he paused as he thought quietly for a moment “I’m unsure why, but it does make me think of-,” his voice grew quiet, his gaze became cold.
“What is it?” Shaya sat forward.
The prince sighed. Clearly, he didn’t want to talk about it.
“I’m sorry your highness, it’s none of my business.”
The young boy rubbed his tired eyes and heaved out a long grunting sigh.
“No, it’s quite alright. It’s just, my mother, she had a vision, or something similar, perhaps not unlike the one we both shared. She-, she had her vision on her deathbed.”
He looked away, shifted uncomfortably where he sat and stared into the ever-moving flames, as if he was looking at his mother, laying in front of him.
“Bedridden for weeks she was. One evening she got worse, much worse. My father and I stayed with her all night, that’s when her eyes, they went white. She spoke in a voice that wasn’t her own. She said a boy of noble birth will stand against evil. With the light of his heart, the Goddess’ power will be reborn.” He shook his head and swallowed hard. “She stared at me and said my name, with tears in those glowing eyes and a smile on her face,” he looked down at the dirt floor “Then she died.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Ever since that, my father has treated me like I’m some precious thing. As if I have a connection to the Goddess, that through me, she can be resurrected.”
“That’s why you’ve hardly left the castle, he was protecting you.”
The prince nodded and ran his fingers through his messy black hair with a long, frustrated huff.
“I don’t understand, the Goddess is dead?”
“Well, the history books and the texts of The Faith say, if you believe that is, that the Goddess disappeared over five hundred years ago.”
“So, is it true? Are you, magic?” Shaya’s face scrunched up in confusion. The word magic didn’t sound right coming out of her mouth.
“Don’t talk nonsense, no one has seen evidence of magic for a thousand years. It’s a long dead art. Even if it did exist,” he continued hesitantly “Mother was wrong about me.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m just an ordinary child, I have no power. It’s a lie, the whole thing. My father believes it was a message from the Goddess. That at the moment of my mother’s passing, the Goddess somehow spoke through her.”
“But you don’t?”
Rowan shook his head, a mix of sorrow and irritation on his face.
“You don’t believe in the Goddess?”
“I do. I must, my parents are both devout followers of The Faith. I was brought up to believe. Do you?”
“Uncle Benjin wasn’t one for Gods and prophecies, so I wouldn’t say I wasn’t brought up to be religious, but I’d like to think there is truth to the stories. Yes, I do believe.”
Rowan nodded silently.
“So, why don’t you think it was the Goddess speaking through your mother?”
“Because if it was, then the Goddess I believe in, used my mother, then let her die.”
The campsite grew silent, except for the wind whistling around them. Shaya looked at the prince. For such a young boy, there was so much conflict in him. She could see it on his face. Yes, he could be a spoilt stubborn child, but there was something else. That was it, the responsibility of being something he wasn’t. His father believing he was the answer to the perils of the world. That was a lot to put on a child’s shoulders, prince or not.
After all that had happened, they didn’t really feel like children. As if their youth, their childhood was slowly slipping through their fingers, as they were thrust into something they didn’t understand.
“When I awoke from my dream, and Ellesia told me the castle was under attack, I prayed,” Rowan continued quietly. “For the first time since mother’s death, I prayed, as hard as I could. Prayed for the darkness in my nightmare to be nothing more than a bad dream, for the Goddess to come and protect us. I prayed for a God to come, I got a thirteen-year-old girl with a second-hand sword,” Rowan wafted his hand dismissively and scoffed.
Shaya wasn’t sure if she was supposed to be offended by that, but it did bring up the question that had been plaguing her.
“Well, what about me?” Shaya asked finally, poking the fire hard with a stick sending embers billowing into the night sky.
“What about you?” Rowan looked back up at her, his brown eyes shimmering with tears yet to fall.
“Well, why am I here? I’m not of noble birth, I was raised on a farm. Why did I have the same dream as the Prince of Arrolyn?”
“I don’t know, perhaps we’re supposed to banish the darkness together,” Rowan scoffed.
“How? You, you’re a prince. Goddess message or not, you and your father still have power in the kingdom. But me?” Shaya sighed, she felt her heart ache a little as she said it “I’m not special, I’m just me,” she folded her arms across her chest and mumbled under her breath “Whoever that is.”
“What does that mean?”
Shaya shrugged without looking at the prince. She could feel his eyes staring at her like an owl in the night. After a moment she relented.
“I was raised by my uncle, I never knew who my parents were. I don’t know where I came from. Am I from Tetra, or Bastion, or Serran. I may not even be from Arrolyn. I could be from somewhere across the Great Sea, I don’t know. Nor does Uncle Benjin, that I do know, I’ve asked him a thousand times. I’m nothing, I’m just me.”
“Well, maybe there is more to you than you realise.”
“Like what?”
“I couldn’t say.”
“I just wish I knew why all this is happening, and what it is I’m supposed to be doing.”
I don’t know Shaya, I don’t have all the answers. As of now, you know just as much as I do,” Rowan said rubbing his eyes, slight irritation in his voice.
“I’m sorry to push, I’m just trying to figure out what’s going on, why we’re even out here, in the middle of nowhere camping in a ravine.”
“I wish I knew Shaya, I do. I just pray that Shale has answers for us tomorrow.”
“Me too.”
They sat quietly for a few moments. Shaya now had even more questions than she did before. She was now officially in over her head. She knew she already was, but this, this proved it. Mes
sages from mythical deities, that was a lot to take in. She wondered what they would find in Fylin forest the next day. Would they find answers or just more questions?
“Perhaps it’s time to get some sleep,” said Rowan as he snatched up a blanket and draped it over himself.
“It’s been a long day,” said Shaya in agreement. “Goodnight prince,” she yawned.
“Good night Shaya,” The prince mumbled. He lay down and wriggled a little closer to the fire. He rested his head on a small log he’d found. It looked uncomfortable, but he was tired and probably didn’t care.
Shaya watched him close his eyes and pull the blanket tightly over himself. She checked on Jinx who was still sleeping soundly, then lay back on her own dust-covered sheet. She tucked her yellowy braided ponytail into her jacket and pulled up her dark green hood. Curling up into a ball, she stared up at the night sky. The embers floated up above them, looking like red and orange stars against the gloomy clouds. As she watched the embers dance and twirl in the breeze, and her tired eyes began to droop, she didn’t realise, she was being watched.
Chapter Eight
Fylin Forest
The moon broke through the clouds and blanketed the land in a dull, pale light. Benjin trudged in wet boots through the increasing gloom. His clothes were still damp from the river, they felt as if they were twice the weight, every step was a struggle. They had been swept upstream for a long time, he didn’t know how long. The old man had awoken suddenly, still in the water. Elle had been trying to keep his head above the sweeping current. He’d started flailing his arms and legs frantically having no idea where he was or what was happening; all he’d felt was cold and the feeling of weightlessness. He’d thought for a moment he was still in mid-air, falling from the castle’s tower. After nearly cracking Elle in the face she’d gotten him to calm down. Finally, they had reached a low riverbank so they could clamber out. Exhausted, Elle had helped Benjin out of the water onto the shore. She had struggled, he could tell. She had hurt her arm badly when she dived into the water after him. He was heavy, even without the water soaking into his clothes and filling his boots. Eventually, they had made it to dry land.
They had found a placed to rest for a while, get their breath back. Benjin was dizzy, he had trouble piecing together what had happened, so Elle filled in the gaps. When he had been told of the burning castle, he had just sat quietly, staring off into the distance. It was then that Elle had offered to check his wound.
“I need to see how bad it is, I don’t want to be carrying you,” she had said.
Benjin had reluctantly agreed. After she’d helped pull off his armoured chest plate and grey top, they could see the damage that monster Rakmar had done. Benjin had a gaping wound on his left shoulder, a scorched hole with burn marks all around and fragments of his armour sticking out of his chest and upper arm. Luckily the wound was seared, so there was very little blood loss, that was the only reason he was still alive.
“It’s bad,” she had said bluntly.
“Don’t make me feel better whatever you do,” Benjin had laughed sarcastically. Laughing made the pain worse.
After a long rest by the river, they had come up with a plan. Benjin’s injury was severe, and Elle’s arm needed seeing to soon if she wanted to swing a sword again. The river had taken them north, the complete opposite way they had wanted to go. They worked out that the closest populated area to them was the Volanti peaks. If they continued north, they could get there by nightfall and send a scout to Fylin forest. They had been wrong.
The journey had been slow, they’d had to stop to rest several times already. Exhaustion had nearly consumed them both. They had been walking all day, and now the sun was long set, the wind had picked up, and their still damp clothes were freezing. Benjin felt faint, he felt his vision keep going fuzzy, the dark trees in the distance looked like black blurs, always shifting in and out of focus. His skin was the colour of stone, and his hands wouldn’t stop shaking. He told himself it was the cold, but the truth was they had been trembling for hours. The pain in his shoulder was growing unbearable, he started to hope he would pass out, so he could have some relief.
Elle was ahead of him, she was determined to get there as soon as possible, but he knew he wouldn’t make it five more steps, let alone five more miles. His unsteady feet came to a halt, and he nearly toppled over. He tried to call after Elle, but nothing came out but a wheezing breath.
“What is it?” Elle said looking back.
Benjin shook his head, which made his head spin and the lightheadedness worse.
“Can’t go on,” he gasped.
Elle looked at him, a mix of annoyance and concern on her face.
“I know,” she came back and helped him walk over to a nearby tree. Even though it must have been agony for her, she helped him to the ground so he could lean against the thick trunk.
“I’ll get a fire going.”
Benjin wasn’t sure if he had passed out or if Elle was just that fast, but she returned with some purple lylatt berries she’d picked from a nearby tree and lit a fire in what seemed like seconds.
“Eat,” she said brusquely.
Benjin tossed the berries into his mouth. They were bitter and sickly, but it was the first thing he had eaten since lunchtime the day before. His mind drifted back to the salted pork stew Shaya had been making when he had left, the beautiful aroma that had filled the kitchen. His bowl was probably still on the table. Pork, potatoes, carrots, onions, maybe some little button mushrooms. He sighed, and his stomach groaned, it was cruel to think of real food at a time like this.
Elle took off her weapon belt and sat down beside him, took her damp gloves off and warmed her hands by the fire. She insisted on rechecking his wound again. Even the slightest touch was torture, she examined it in the firelight and shook her head. It wasn’t good, they both knew it.
“Do you think the children made it to the forest?” Benjin felt the worry grip his chest again as he pulled his ripped top back down.
“I’m sure they did,” Elle stared into the fire. She hadn’t spoken much since they had started their journey north. The king’s death was looming over her, weighing her down. Benjin could see it in her eyes, she blamed herself.
“I’m,” Benjin started. He shifted a little closer to her, and a sharp explosion of pain shot through his shoulder and down his spine. He grunted and clenched his jaw. “I’m sorry about the king,” he said finally.
Elle merely nodded and didn’t say a word. Benjin didn’t know what to say, Elle was sat no more than two feet from him, but she felt a world away, lost in her own despair.
“I failed him,” she muttered so quietly Benjin nearly didn’t hear it.
“You failed no one.”
“It was my job to protect him, and he died.”
“It was your job to protect his son. He was the warrior king, the king who slew the Aracton beneath the Red Mountains.”
“And yet he still died, and his son is lost.”
“You got the prince out of the castle alive. Rakmar didn’t find him. You did your king proud.”
“He took me in you know,” she said out of the blue.
Benjin suddenly froze. He waited in silence, rightly assuming that Elle wasn’t one to talk about herself very often, he didn’t want to say anything that would make her crawl back inside her protective shell.
“I was ten. King Leon came to Serran, my hometown. His guards caught me stealing a bushel of red apples,” her eyes turned glassy, but she let out a quiet laugh “I bested three of them with a stick.”
Benjin smiled. He had seen her in action, he believed every word.
“One of the soldiers got a lucky shot in. They split my hand wide open. The king called off his men and tore off a piece of his own robes and wrapped it around the wound,” she laid a lightly scarred hand on the hilt of her sword, the long piece of red cloth tied to it flapped in the breeze. “King Leon saw something in me,” she continued, her voice quiet. “I left
for the castle the next day.”
“What about your family?”
“I lived in an orphanage. King Leon and Queen Gwenith were the only family I ever had.”
Silence fell between them. Benjin had lost all words, he now knew why Leon’s death was crushing her. He was so much more than her king.
Suddenly Elle sat up straight and cleared her throat.
“Your little one,” Elle said quickly changing the subject “She’s quite the little warrior.”
“Shaya? Yes, she is,” Benjin smiled through the pain.
“Your niece, am I right?”
“Not by blood.”
Elle looked at him quizzically. Benjin didn’t feel like trotting down memory lane. He wanted to sleep, his head was swimming. However, Elle had shared her story, he felt obligated to share his.
“I found her, out in the meadows near our farm.”
“Found her?” Elle looked stunned.
“It was late one night. I still remember a storm had blown in, the trees of the Evergreen were bending over backwards. I was on my way home from guard duty, and over the rain and the thunder, I heard something. A baby crying,” Benjin could feel his heart begin to ache again. “I ran towards the sound and there, amid blackened grass and smouldering bushes lay this little baby, no more than a week or two old.”
“What happened?” Elle asked.
Benjin shook his head. “Must have been some sort of fight. Burn marks, flecks of blood on the ground. I’m guessing some goblins or bandits had taken or killed the parents, left the child.”
“That’s horrible.”
“I bundled her up and took her home. I didn’t know what to do. My wife Meryl and I asked around if anyone had reported an attack or a missing child. We put posters up, nothing. After a while, we decided to keep her. Meryl and I had never had children of our own, and besides, we loved that girl. From the moment I laid my eyes on her on that soaking wet grass, I loved her. There was something about her, she was, incredible, special,” he let out a shaking breath “I miss her.”
“And your wife?” Elle asked hesitantly.
The Shattered Moon (A Divine Legacy Book 1) Page 10