by Meg Cowley
She wondered again why he had allowed her to go; whether it was because he had giving up resisting her wishes or because he had no other option. She realised though, that she should be grateful for getting the opportunity to visit, albeit in an unexpected way, and promised to herself to make the most of it despite her fears.
Eve was so lost in her thoughts that she did not notice the unusual hardness in Nyle’s gaze as he glanced back every so often to check she and Luke were close behind, nor could she see Luke’s agitation behind her. It was not until they broke for lunch did she wonder at Luke’s hesitation of sitting near her and Nyle’s visible hostility.
She did not know how to break the silence. Certain her careless slip of the tongue was the reason for their bizarre behaviour towards her, she internally admonished herself for blurting out the secret of her heritage.
Though the Eldarkind had once been great, as they faded into the history of Caledan, the stories told of them grew more fanciful and false with each telling. Generations later, the noble Eldarkind had been mutated by folklore into untrustworthy, mischievous and even sometimes malevolent evil beings, who haunted the night and the deeps of the world. Mere mention of them was laced with prejudice and stereotypes so ingrained that Eve knew any association with them as if they were real beings would sow the seeds of mistrust.
Nyle broke the silence. “What are you?” he accused, his suspicious gaze boring into her. He stood with his arms folded, looking down at where she sat on a fallen tree trunk a few feet away, whilst Luke stood to one side, not looking at either of them.
“I am what I have always been,” replied Eve. She knew that here in the depth of the wilderness so far from help she would have to carefully choose her words, lest she provoke Nyle into open anger or worse. She did not know whether this could even turn Luke against her despite their many years of friendship; such were the implications.
“Nyle, you’re old enough to remember my mother when you were a child. Did you ever perceive her to be evil, to be the truth of the folk stories? And have I ever given you cause to believe that I’m anything other than normal?”
He mulled over his response. “No,” he said at last. It was easy to see he begrudged the word.
“I know I may look different from most people,” Eve said. “I have fair hair and light eyes, when most of our town are darker in both, and I know I take those characteristics from my mother, but you have both witnessed me grow up – Luke, you especially – and you both know me to be nothing other than my father’s daughter. I hide no evil in me.” She held her head high.
Nyle did not seem placated, but it was clear then he had nothing else to say. They ate in silence with awkwardness hanging in the air, and then pressed on. To make matters more uncomfortable, a steady rain had begun to fall and although by nightfall it had ceased they were damp and short tempered.
They had followed the stream high into the mountain pass, where the narrow valley brought premature gloom to their travel before the sunset. The deciduous forests where they had parted with Edmund had given way to coniferous woods that clung to steep, rocky valley sides.
The remains of a track were visible, parting the trees to either side, and for a few hours, they had been able to saddle up the horses and ride once more. The road clung to one side of the steep valley with a stomach-churning drop to their left, and the stream barely visible far below.
They came to a small bend high in the valley that offered some shelter and made camp under a rocky overhang. Whilst Luke and Eve unsaddled the horses and began to unpack the necessities for their evening meal, Nyle foraged further up the path for firewood so they could heat a food and water and have some warmth against the altitude-induced chill in the darkening air.
Eve absentmindedly went about her tasks, until a touch on her arm made her jolt in surprise as she finished grooming Alia. She twisted to find Luke standing close behind her, her forearm now in his grasp. This close, he was taller than she was by some inches and an imposing figure in the gloom.
He saw the gleam of fear in her eyes and released her arm, half holding up his hands to show he meant no harm. She did not move, but observed him warily; tense and ready to reach for a weapon if she needed.
“I’m sorry…” he said falteringly. “I didn’t mean to surprise you.” He fell silent and Eve waited, still tense for a minute as he tried to compose himself. “I know it’s perhaps not my place, but I wanted to ask whilst Nyle wasn’t here. We used to be close; why didn’t you tell me about your mother?”
“Because you would judge me like Nyle has – just like everyone else would!” she retorted. “What business is it of yours anyway? It is clear I cannot trust you, therefore it is no concern of yours at all!” she exclaimed.
She made to push past him but he grasped her arm once more. “Let go of me Lucan!” She wrenched her hand out of his grip and stormed off down the path feeling shaken by the experience and her heart still pounding.
~
Her use of his formal name felt like a physical blow and he froze, taken aback. “Eve!” he called after her. She did not respond and was soon out of sight around the bend in the track. “Damn it!” he swore, as Nyle returned with an arm full of wood.
“What’s up now? Where is she?” asked Nyle.
Luke scowled.
“What did you do, Luke?”
“Nothing!” Luke exclaimed. “Look, I need to find her. Will you light the fire whilst I go search for her? She can’t have gone far.”
Nyle nodded, the movement barely discernible. Luke spun around and ran down the track after Eve. He found her, some minutes later, a pale figure sat by the edge of the track on a large rock and he approached her slowly.
“Eve?”
~
She did not respond. He knelt in front of her. “Eve, I’m sorry for being so forward, please will you accept my apology?”
Her head bobbed up and down. Through her hair she saw his relieved smile.
“Please don’t take it the wrong way, I... We used to be so close. I know things are different now – you’re the heir to the county and I’m nobody, but I still miss how we used to talk. I miss my friend Evie,” he trailed off into silence.
“I’m sorry too Luke,” Eve replied. She rested a hand on his head briefly before withdrawing it to her lap once more. “You startled me just now, but that was no reason for me to speak so harshly. I can see the prejudice in Nyle’s eyes so clearly that I thought you might judge the worst of me too.”
“You always have the benefit of the doubt in my eyes, Eve,” he said. “I would never think poorly of you, or judge you, though I admit I’m surprised. I know things cannot return to the way they were, but I am always here for you. If you need someone, night or day, I’ll be there. You need never feel alone.”
“How can I talk to you or trust as I once did though, Luke?” Eve asked him, her eyes full of reproach. His expression changed to confusion. “You told my father of my every move. You betrayed my trust!”
“I did not mean it to be so!” he replied, distressed. “It was my job to guard you – your father made it very clear that if I did not do my duty then I would no longer have that position.”
“So you chose your job over our friendship and trust then.” She spoke more bluntly than she intended – his words had hurt her more than she first realised. Luke crumpled at her feet and tangled his hands in his hair. Her frustrations lifted somewhat as she saw his intense discomfort.
“I did not want to leave you,” he admitted, so quiet and pained that she barely heard him. “I’m sorry.” He spoke louder than before. His apology was simple but she heard the urgent sincerity in his voice.
Eve did not know how to reply, so instead she stood up and drew Luke up from where he knelt and clasped his hands in hers for the briefest moment. A small smile flitted across her face.
“Shall we?” she asked, motioning towards the camp. Her anger and fear had vanished; replaced with relief and the knowledge that she had no
t lost her dearest friend.
As they returned to the camp together in silence, she wondered at his choice of words. He didn’t want to leave me…?
Soren
With a heavy heart, Soren turned away, guided to his room by a young monk, who awaited him outside the abbot’s office. Soren tried to recall the detail of the abbot’s face as he was escorted without a word, yet he found that his mind grew hazy and he could not picture him in detail.
Soren shut the door behind him and leaned against it. Worry for Irumae still occupied his mind although he was gladdened to know the extent to which others were trying to find her. He tried to recall in great depth the face of his mother, his father, and his sister but his thoughts morbidly distorted into visions of his mother lying cold under stone, her spirit released to the sky and without a proper goodbye. His father was a maniacally grinning skeleton beside her; the image leapt unbidden into his mind’s eye.
A chasm opened in his heart and his chest ached. He slapped himself around the face to force the memories out. His face stung from the force of the blow as he busied himself washing roughly and trying not to think of anything at all.
After dressing in fresh travelling clothes of a dark cloth much simpler than those he had fled in, he exited his room and was led to the back of the kitchens, where a small door lay open to the gardens. Here on a table, a pack full of provisions awaited him, and he saw through the open door half a dozen monks similarly dressed and waiting in the dark with horses. He was glad to see Miri with them.
As the door closed with a snap behind him, they bowed and greeted him one by one. He replied, trying to remember all their names and be as gracious as possible given his somewhat humbler than normal appearance. He peered at their faces to try and familiarise himself, however in the dark, with the only light coming out of the kitchen window, it was impossible to tell them apart.
The only man he could identify was Hador. He appeared to be the leader of their group, for the others deferred to him.
“We have already disabled the enemy scouts outside the northern gate,” Hador said. Soren did not like to think what he meant by ‘disabled’. “We are to proceed in complete silence some distance north where we will follow one of the streams up to the hillside caves.
“The horses’ feet have been muffled, as have our weapons. I suggest you do the same to your sword just in case.” Hador gestured at Soren’s sword, strapped as ever to his side, the gesture almost invisible in the blackness. Hador tossed him a strip of fabric, which he bound around the sword.
“The abbot has forbidden our return until any hostile forces have departed, therefore we will stay at the caves for as long as is necessary. Now, it will take us the night to get there and we must be particularly careful in the dark. We may not use any lights as they will reveal our position. We shall rope together the horses and each man should take a bridle so none of us become separated. Let’s go.”
Roping together the horses, they set off to the northern gate; the same portal Soren had entered through just that morning. The gate was shut though unlocked and opened without a sound on its well-oiled hinges. Hador led out the silent line of men. They halted so the last man in the chain could close the gate before continuing. After a few paces, soft footsteps behind them and the tiniest grate of metal on metal, Soren knew the gate had been secured once more from within.
It was a fraught walk, and they made slow progress. Under cover of darkness, not knowing where any of the army’s scouts were, they dared not ride and instead led the horses through the dark, guided by the star and moonlight which fell between the clouds covering half of the sky. Reaching the tree cover a few feet from the walls, they continued downhill. Hador and the rest of the monks carried crossbow in their free hands; a brutal weapon, but an effective silencer.
Fortunately for them, or perhaps more for the enemy, they came across no scouts and soon reached the bottom of the hill on which the monastery sat. From there, they followed the stream bed at the up into the hills; it was wide and loud enough at this point to lead the horses up its middle and disguise any signs and sounds of their passage.
~
By dawn, they were no longer in the stream bed, instead wandering up small wild trails in the foothills, half hidden by grass and overcast by the tree canopy, until they reached a rock face which sheared through the tree tops above them some hours later. At last, Hador halted. They untied the horses and led them individually along the bottom of the cliff for some minutes until, in the rock face, a great split opened up.
Soren would not have noticed it had they not halted; by some trick of the eye, it was only visible by passing it and then looking back. A curtain of greenery that must have been purposefully grown concealed the entrance. Soren peered in. Once they had picketed the horses outside, Hador, bearing a lit candle, led him inside.
Light illuminated a narrow tunnel and then a huge space. The cavern had a rocky ceiling seven feet high sloping down towards the back to half the height of a man. A dozen straw mattresses lay piled with blankets and pillows, and chairs sat stacked next to a table. On the other wall a bookcase stood, three quarters full of dusty books. Noting that floor was hard packed earth, Soren was thankful for the mattresses.
The men dumped their packs by the table and began to ready the room, whilst Hador dictated the watch rotas. Soren finished plumping up the pillows and walked outside to escape from all the dust raised in the cave; the view made him gasp. Through what seemed like a miraculous coincidence, though he knew the location had been chosen for this very reason, a great gap in the foliage meant that he could see right down onto the monastery, miles below and to the south. It was the perfect position; from below, the cave could not be identified at all.
However, his wonder turned to dismay and he let out a cry which brought the others running. A swarm of silver flashes – armoured men – had almost surrounded the monastery, most concentrated at the main gate. The size of the force, which seemed to have sprung from nowhere overnight, stunned them into silence.
The sound of their presence did not carry over such a great distance but Soren could guess their intentions; only Zaki could control and flaunt such a large force. The seven men watched. Dismay was etched in each of their faces at the size of the horde, clearly regretting that they could not add to the number of defenders to protect their home.
Looking at what faced the monastery, Soren understood the abbot’s words just before they parted. I will be lucky to see him again. He shivered.
Zaki
Armoured men parted like water before him as Zaki rode up to the gates of the monastery. He had ordered his men’s silent formation before dawn, so that he could send a particular impression to the abbot. They stood in silent ranks, all staring forward and in full battle gear. Zaki himself felt impressed by their coordination.
The imposing wall loomed before him, broken by the closed, studded gate set into it. All seemed deserted until a voice called down from the battlements. “Who goes there?”
Reynard replied. “Here stands before you His Royal Highness Prince Zaki of Caledan, heir to the throne. Open your gates.”
“You come before us with a great host and so armed; what are your intentions?”
“We will speak with your abbot and no other,” Reynard replied. “Summon him now.”
“There is no need, Your Royal Highness,” another voice replied. “I am here.” The abbot peered over the wall. He disappeared.The gate opened before Zaki to reveal the abbot standing in his way. He was tiny in person – far smaller than Zaki remembered him. Older too, and fragile. He walked with a slight limp, Zaki noticed, and his face held years more wrinkles than Zaki recalled. The abbot was nothing more than a frail old man dressed in dowdy robes.
“I have come for the crown. Release it to me,” said Zaki. He did not see the need to mince words; that only wasted his time.
“I cannot do this for you sir,” said the abbot.
Zaki paused with a frown. “Give to me on
e good reason why I, the legally recognised heir to the throne, may not have the crown of my forbears.”
The abbot shuffled. “The crown is not here, sir.”
“What a pathetic lie. This is absurd, old man. I will not ask a third time. You refuse to give me what is mine by right?”
“I cannot give what I do not possess, sir,” the abbot replied.
“My men and I must search the entire monastery to find it, then,” said Zaki, irked by the man’s politeness and calm demeanour.
“I cannot allow you to do so, sir,” the abbot protested. “These are sacred grounds!”
“We will do this whether you will it or not.” Zaki leered down at him. “Let us in or we will enter by force.”
The abbot’s answer was a hand gesture to those behind him. He paced beneath the wall and through the gates. Zaki prepared to follow, but the gates shut in his face and were barred from within.
Zaki froze. It took a moment to understand what had happened and regain his composure. “You all witness this treason.” Zaki stood in his saddle to address the men about him.
Not a man moved, though the eyes of those closest flicked towards him. “I hereby call upon you to defend Caledan’s honour and retrieve the crown of our kings from the hands of these rebels! For Caledan!” he called.
“For Caledan!” replied his men, magnifying his words thousandfold.
“Attack,” he said to Reynard beside him. “Fire archers, battering rams, anything you like. Get me inside those walls, find that crown and kill the boy.”
Eve
Eve, Luke and Nyle drunk in the view open mouthed. A restless night followed the previous day’s turbulence and they had risen with dull heads and heavy eyes. After riding further, the valley had closed in around them and the trees gave way to a barren rocky landscape as the rain gave way to tentative sun. They had mounted a brow before them, expecting more rocky terrain. What they saw made them halt with incredulity.
There laid out before them was an enormous valley sinking thousands of feet below them and miles before them. It was so long that they could not see its far end in the haze. It seemed green and pleasant; forests and meadows as far as the eye could see and a huge lake glinting blue in the emerging sun as it faded into the distance.
