by C D Beaudin
After a long drawn out silence, Eldorian looks at Eldowyn, worried, but guilt is also in his eyes. “His father was my little brother. I can’t let anything happen to his favorite son.” He looks back at Kaniel. “My powers are great, but they have limits. I don’t know how to help my nephew. All my books here...” He looks around the room. “They can’t tell me how to help him.”
Kaniel sighs, and the elf lord seems defeated. “I will look through my parchments and books. I may have something, but don’t dare to hope.” Kaniel leaves the room with the scared uncle watching over his nephew.
Awyn watches as Eldorian works tirelessly to help his nephew. That’s how Tamon should have loved me. She sighs, taking her leave back toward her own room.
Colorful tapestries of bright blues, purples, oranges, and reds hang over the wooden walls, two vertical rectangular windows letting the light shine in. She sits on the plush bed. It’s nice having a real bed to sleep in, not that hard, wooden board with legs she had to sleep on in the cell. Walking over to the window, she looks out onto the city, and sees Kera walk down the steps, toward who is either her brother or lover, the way they hug so affectionately.
Looking east, there’s a set of stairs. She smiles, she’s always wanted to climb a mountain. Awyn slips out of her nightdress, and into a set of clothes set out for her, an ice-blue dress with a pair of brown leather sandals and heads out the door.
Down the steps she walks, smelling the fresh air of the Kawa. A flush of wind blows her hair behind her, and she looks up to one of the mountains that makes up the valley. Children run past her as she heads toward it, chasing balls, small animals, or each other. She smiles as they laugh, their small bodies running everywhere, their multi-colored shendyts blowing in the wind. At the base of the mountain, Awyn looks up at the long flight of stairs. She starts up them, excitedly climbing.
At the top, there’s a large beacon, not unlike the one at Vergo’s Pass. And standing at the edge of the stone platform is Aradon, his brown hair blowing in the wind. She walks up beside him, closing her eyes for a moment, feeling the breeze against her face. Opening her eyes, Aradon smiles, but the smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes, something she’s noticed many times about him.
“Welcome to the land of the living,” he says, his tone trying to be warm, but like his smile, the warmth doesn’t reach his blue eyes.
She takes a deep breath, looking out on the plains. “It’s more beautiful than I could have possibly imagined. All those years in a cell, I had to keep reminding myself of the outside world, of what it looked like, so I wouldn’t forget. After about a year when I pulled out most of my hair from going crazy, it seemed like the least of my worries.”
Aradon gives her a pitying look. “Do you mind if I ask…what did you do in that cell?” Aradon’s voice sounds breathless, as if he’s imagining how insane she must have become after all those years alone.
Awyn looks out onto the beauty before her. “For the first year I had a...routine. I’d check to see if the door was locked. It always was. I’d walk over to the tiny crack in the mountain wall to see if any rock was loose. Then I’d pull the dirty rug over, to see if there was a trap door—anything. But it was always just hard, flat rock. There never was any escape, but I checked. Every day, the same routine, making sure I didn’t miss anything.” She stops for a moment. “But there was never anything to miss.” She bites her lip, choking back tears as she stares out onto the plain.
“I received about three meals a week, and that’s if the guards were in a good mood. Of course, there were ways to put them in a good mood.”
Aradon looks confused at what she means by this. But he doesn’t pry. It must be obvious she doesn’t want to talk about it.
“I’m a Red Warrior,” he says bluntly and without warning.
Awyn’s eyes widen as she stares at Aradon. “W-what?” she says breathlessly.
“I was fifteen when I left home. When I was trained, the Red Warriors weren’t as honorable as they were intended for. Assassins. I made a name for myself at seventeen.” This time he stops, as if the next word that comes out of his mouth is going to make her hate him. “Slayer.”
Aradon looks like he’s trying to gauge her reaction. She feels dumbfounded, but no fear, and it must show on her face because he raises his eyebrows in surprise. “As famous as I was, eventually the killing became…there was a voice that started speaking. I guess as I got older, my conscience started...screaming at me. Hiding seemed like the only option.” He breathes in deeply after his confession. “I lived with the Tanea for years—six years—curbing my appetite for the kill. When I resurfaced, I made a new name for myself...the Bowman.”
“The Bowman. You are the Bowman. Dethroner of Kings.” She takes in the surprise, wonder, and also disbelief. “The stories say you killed Darman, the wickedest king in Mortal’s history. You’re a man of legends. Said to be one with the shadows, slipping out of sight whenever you need to. A ghost of the plains.”
Aradon smirks. “I guess you aren’t as clueless as I thought you’d be,” he observes.
Awyn scoffs and bites her lip as she looks at the Red Warrior. “I’m impressed. From child killer to Dethroner of Kings. It seems you have brought back the purpose of the regiment.”
Aradon chuckles. “Well, I wouldn’t give myself so much credit. My past is terribly dark. But I look at you, and my life looks like a dream come true.”
Awyn gives him a small smile, looking out onto the plains. “There are some things that happened in that cell I will never speak of.” She looks back at Aradon. “But it’s…comforting, somehow…to know someone else has a darkness that will always follow them too.”
She turns away from the Red Warrior, leaving the mountain watchtower.
Chapter Six
Aradon sits on the side of his bed, silk sheets and pillows lie lavishly behind him. On the floors a rich, red rug lies beneath his feet on the polished wooden boards. Drapes and colorful sheets with intricate designs hang from the wooden beams against the walls, and a small balcony stretches out, letting the cold breeze of the mountains in.
He’s not used to such riches. Nor does he care for them. All his life he’s been working hard, fighting for everything he’s gotten. He’s fought for his very existence. In this place, happiness seems to be a birthright, to every boy and girl. The comfort of staying in a palace will not be given to many folk, so why should a lowly Red Warrior, such as himself be able to stay in such lavishness?
“Aradon.” Looking behind him, Awyn walks into the room and sits beside him.
“How’s Eldowyn doing?” he asks.
Awyn clasps her hands together in her lap, weariness in her eyes—she looks exhausted. The skin under her eyes is tinted purple, and her shoulders droop. “Physically he’s doing well, but I believe he will have emotional scars for the rest of his life. Being almost murdered by one’s brother can’t be easy to forget.” Awyn looks down. “Being almost murdered by any family member isn’t easy to forget.”
Aradon puts his sling-free arm around her shoulder. “Let’s go outside. It’s a cool day, and I seem to recall Kaniel telling me you love cold days.” He stands up.
“I do like cold days.” She smiles, and they leave together. Outside, Awyn spies Eldowyn slowly walking side by side with Kera along the dirt road, arm in arm. Aradon and Awyn stop at the top of the stairs, looking down at the same sight.
“He’s not the only one who’s hurting,” Aradon says as he looks at Kera. “She loved Kepp, but he betrayed her as well. Love will tear one apart.”
Awyn looks up at him, seeming surprised.
Aradon notices and laughs to himself. “I may not be the warmest person, but I do know a thing or two about love. It’s the deadliest sword man has ever possessed.” He sighs, making his way down the dirt steps, leaving Awyn at the top, pondering the unusual depth of this Red Warrior.
Walking along the dirt path, Awyn spies the Lady Kera and Eldowyn, the elf leaning against her shoul
der. “Lady Kera!” Awyn runs up behind the two of them.
They stop and nod their heads in respect, but Kera hesitates as she does this.
“Princess Awyn.” She has an edge to her voice.
“Please, call me Awyn. How are you doing this morning?” she asks.
“We are doing as well as we can be in a situation like this,” Eldowyn answers, pain in his eyes. But Awyn knows this pain is from his brother literally tearing him apart.
“I get it. Sometimes when I was in captivity, I felt like I could fall apart and crumble into dust. It would’ve been a lot easier to die, but I always knew the goal was to get out of there and take back my kingdom.” Awyn bites her lip at this, knowing she didn’t always think that.
Kera raises an eyebrow, looking doubtful. “You were locked up in a palace. I doubt you were in as much grief and suffering as you let on.”
Awyn’s taken aback and her face falls. “What?” she whispers painfully, swallowing disbelief, tears pricking her eyes.
“You probably had servants and a big bed and three windows to look out of. You never suffered, you fake.”
The elf visibly cringes at her words.
Awyn stares, dumbfounded. “Oh...I see. Well, uh… Good day.” Awyn gives them a small smile as she turns, tears falling onto her cheeks. She sniffs as she walks away from them, trying to keep it all in, for fear they might see her. And if she learned anything in that cell, it was to never let them see you cry.
Under a tree away from the busy town, she sits staring into the sparkling river. It shimmers under the sun, reminding her of the Lake of Kings in Mera, where all the kings and great lords of the past are given a traditional Meran passage into the next world. Her father never got the chance to float atop the water, lying on a bed of white roses in a boat, while his family set it aflame by arrows. She never knew what happened to the remains of her parents’ bodies. Ashes scattered to who knows where now.
Awyn hears footsteps as Eldowyn approaches. He sits next to her, picking at grass, his leather short-sleeved jerkin showing off his white shirt. Awyn leans back against the tree. “Are you here to tell me I’m a liar as well?”
“Sorry about that, but...no. I know you aren’t lying.”
Awyn looks at him, a doubtful expression on her face. “Enlighten me.”
“Kera just had her heart broken, and she was looking at someone to lash out at. None of us have a way of knowing if you’re lying.”
Awyn shakes her head. “I’m not lying. I just prefer to keep the past in the past, and not bring it up every time someone doesn’t believe me.”
“And I accept that about you, but that doesn’t mean everyone else will.”
Awyn sighs, looking away from the elf. “Aradon gets it.”
“I can’t confirm that. I can’t see into his past. It’s like...he’s blocking me out.” Eldowyn’s brow furrows.
Rolling her eyes, Awyn sighs. “What gives you the impression people like you snooping into their past. It’s called the past for a reason.”
Eldowyn chuckles. For a moment, the only other sounds are the distant bustle of the city, the rustling of the leaves, and the trickling of the calm river.
Awyn tucks her hair behind her ear.
Eldowyn stares at her, looking surprised.
“What are you looking at?” she asks, already agitated from Kera’s comment earlier
“Oh, nothing.”
“Right, and I don’t have black hair,” she huffs. “So why are you staring?”
“No reason.” Eldowyn quickly looks away from her. “Uh, I have to go…see what’s for lunch.” He awkwardly stands up, walking away from her.
Awyn watches him go as she takes in the fresh air, the elf slowly getting smaller. She picks up the sweetness of freshly baked bread on the air, and her stomach grumbles.
Well, I might as well get something to eat too. No point in starving.
Getting up, she meanders back to the city, along the grass, passing fields with farmers working in them. Approaching the city, she walks into a hut where the aroma is coming from. Kaniel, Aradon, Eldowyn, and Kera are being handed a small loaf of sweet bread each and greet her as they walk out. Although Kera doesn’t acknowledge her presence.
Walking to the counter, she grabs a loaf from the plump man behind the counter. Taking a bite, she closes her eyes in pleasure as she tastes the tang of the apricots and spices in the soft, fluffy bread.
“Awyn. How are you doing?” As she walks out of the hut, she looks at Kaniel who sits around a small fire, flickering in the sunlight.
“A lot better, thank you, Kaniel.” She takes a seat beside Aradon. “Kaniel, when do you propose we leave this place? We must get a move on.”
“Oh, young Princess, you have no clue what we must do yet. We can’t just walk into the White City and kill Lord Tamon. We must plan, and these things take time. Not to mention we must gather an army, and I can’t think of one clan or tribe who would willingly go to war with a sorceress,” Kaniel says.
“I do.”
Awyn and the others stare at Aradon.
“I lived with the Tanea for many years. I happen to know the chief well,” he says.
Awyn is not surprised by this, but she is surprised Kaniel obviously doesn’t know about Aradon’s whole past, judging by the expression on his face. I thought they were old friends. How long have they known each other?
“Are you sure they would go to war for me?” Awyn asks Aradon, running her fingers back through her hair, the locks falling over her shoulder.
“They would go to war for any descendant of King Daron. He treated them with respect. They were always great allies.”
“Then that is our next stop. But, Aradon, when did you live with them?” Kaniel asks.
Aradon doesn’t say anything, so Kaniel’s attention is brought to Eldowyn, who taps his foot. “Eldowyn? Do you have something to share?”
“Um, I may have—well…Kepp has a friend who lives in Terandore—”
“No!” The Delcah cuts him off. “They are a bunch of human sacrificing cannibals. We will not go to them for help,” Kaniel stands up as he shouts. “We must try to persuade the Tanea to fight with us. They are our only help now.”
“Not necessarily,” Awyn says, gaining the attention of the group. “I mean, Mera isn’t the only kingdom in Mortal.”
Kera’s eyes widen. “You aren’t suggesting…?”
“Yes. I do believe Hadore would come to Mera’s aid. Neodyn hates Revera and Tamon, and he will help me. King Neodyn was my childhood friend. He will help us if we only ask him. And if for some reason he doesn’t come through, I can always go to my uncle Atta of Rohidia.”
“An alliance between the five kingdoms hasn't existed since the fall of Nomarah.” Kera’s comment makes Aradon tense up. “Asgoreth fell many years ago, and ever since the fall of Mera, Hadore and Rohidia haven’t been at war, but they aren’t at peace either. The treaty only goes so far, Awyn. They aren’t going to risk their own warriors for you.”
“I refuse to believe this. Lady Kera, you may be the leader of a wise tribe, but you are not wise!” There is a shocked silence from everyone. And Awyn leaps to her feet and runs off, dropping her loaf of sweet bread on the ground but she doesn’t care. She has to get away.
She has no idea what I’ve been through. She was born into a life of privilege! I was born into a life of constant struggle and survival. Even if it’s disguised as a palace, I’ve suffered so much.
Awyn walks along the mountain tracks, outside the valley. She looks out onto the green plains, seeing freedom stretch out its hand, ready for her to take it.
I don’t have to do this. I can live my own life. A life of my choosing!
She races into the endless green plains, with nothing between her and the life she envies. The wind blows in her hair as she runs, leaving the valley of the Kawa behind her. Approaching the forest, she looks behind her as the entrance to the valley becomes smaller. When she gets to the edge of the
forest she sits under a tree, gazing off into the distance, the bright blue sky above her, clouds floating past, the cold wind whipping her hair. Soaking in the serenity, she thinks of the lullaby her mother used to sing to her as a baby. A haunting melody of her childhood.
Upon the green hills the battle commences,
and within a young girl walks, a dress of white flowing behind her.
Her hair, black as night, and lips, red as blood.
She bears a sword made from the ashes,
and holds it to the heavens.
Down come messengers with feathers,
giving her the light.
The war has been won.
Knowing what the words mean is completely different than understanding what the song is about. But when Awyn sings it, she feels close to her mother.
“It’s beautiful.”
Awyn jumps, startled by the voice behind her.
“Do you know what that song is about?” Aradon sits beside her in the grass. “No. Thought it was just a lullaby,” she says. Their voices are quiet, listening to the wind. Awyn turns to Aradon. “I needed to leave. I couldn’t be there with her.”
“Kera’s a lovely person, at least that’s what I’ve heard. But she just lost the love of her life.”
Awyn’s eyes wash with tears, fighting not to let them fall. “She accused me of lying about all those years in a dungeon.” Awyn looks back out onto the plains. “I wouldn’t believe me either, it’s too…storybook.” She bites her lip, closing her eyes, choking back the tears, and the memories.
“Perhaps, but you can’t let that stop you. Leaving now would be cowardly. We should try to persuade the King of Hadore, and if that fails, Rohidia.”
“Don’t tell me that,” she snaps. “I’m going to go to them even if I have to do it myself. If I go back, and they don’t want to help, I’m leaving first thing in the morning by myself and heading to Hadore.” She flinches, not expecting her words to sound so harsh.
