Beyond the Bridge

by C D Beaudin

  Aradon had cherished moments such as those, knowing they wouldn’t last forever, especially in their family—him as the last living heir to the throne of Nomarah and all. But when the sweet sound of his lute had strummed through the breezy cottage, and his parents smiled as they hummed, he couldn’t help feeling joy and hope for a bright future.

  “Oh, Aradon! That song gets better every time you play it.” His mother had praised him as he strummed the last few notes. “It really is a beautiful song. I’m just glad I thought of it!” They’d laughed, which made Aradon smile. He’d liked making his parents happy, but he wished he knew other songs from outside the small world of theirs. He hadn’t been allowed to go beyond the forest.

  Most would think being the heir to a throne would be amazing. Living in a palace, having stable boys to groom the horses, a big feast at every meal, and a bedroom all to oneself. But being a well-kept family secret for generations—as the long lost royal family—wasn’t the most…glamorous. The Hill Song was the only one he’d known how to play. And to be honest he had grown tired of playing it every night, but more than anything he loved to put smiles on his parents’ faces.

  That night as his mother tucked him into his bed, she’d pulled the blue wool blanket over him, the fire crackling in the bedroom’s small fireplace. “Mother, can you sing the lullaby, please?”

  “Sure, sweetie.” She’d looked lovingly into his eyes, tucking a strand of his shaggy hair behind his ear. With the sound of his father’s gentle breathing in the other bed, she’d started to sing.

  “Blue skies turned dark,

  A blanket of stars,

  For you to sleep under tonight.

  The crickets all chirp,

  Under the stars at work,

  Watching over the children tonight.

  Sleep peacefully,

  My darling.

  Sleep peacefully,

  And remember my lullaby.”

  Her soft voice had enchanted Aradon. His eyes had drooped, and the words of her song had lulled him into a sleep, one only a child can obtain.

  Aradon couldn’t remember a time when he slept so well. When you’re a child, it seems that the problems of the world are so far away, even if you have a secret that will mean life or death if found out. Being a child is innocent—naive to the dangers and problems of the outside world.

  What he wouldn’t give to be naive again.

  “What were you thinking about? I can see you haven’t slept at all,” Awyn asks, crouching closer to him. On the other side of the dying fire, the last glowing embers fading, Kaniel and Eldowyn sleep, a gentle snore coming from the Delcah’s aged body. The elf makes no sound, and the wind gently caresses Awyn’s hair as she hugs her knees, a blanket draped over them from the chill of the night.

  “Just…happier times.” He leans against the rock, facing the mountain, secluding himself in the shadows, making it harder for Awyn to see him. Only a slight glow from the fire touches his cloak. “Remembering the young years…it’s hard.”

  “Nowadays, it’s hard for everyone it seems.”

  “But I was different, obviously.”

  Her eyes light with a smile that doesn’t spread across her dark red lips. “Well, being the heir to a fallen kingdom makes you a little different.”

  He chuckles, and Awyn smiles.

  “I was secluded as a young boy, but I dreamed. I dreamed of what was out there, beyond the forest that I could never exit. Dreamed about the future.” He sighs. “A child dares to dream of what the future holds, not knowing that the present is what they should be worrying about. The present can destroy everything.”

  Awyn’s smile fades. “You’re so broken,” she whispers.

  Aradon is surprised at her bluntness. “How would you know if I’m one of the broken ones?” He wonders what her response will be. He hasn’t told her everything. Even so, she can’t see into his soul.

  “It’s easy to see the broken, when you’re one yourself.” She looks into his eyes, her expression solemn.

  Awyn crawls back to her bedroll, and lies down, turning her back to him. Aradon looks at her as she sleeps. I suppose she thinks being a Red Warrior would break someone. Too bad she’s right.

  For a moment, all is quiet, then Eldowyn shifts in his sleep, his eyes fluttering open.

  “Were you listening?” Aradon asks with a hint of hostility, but his voice holds more annoyance than anything.

  “I could hear your conversation in my dreams. It’s one of the burdens an elf such as me carries,” he says, looking at Awyn as she sleeps soundly, her light breathing soothing.

  “I wouldn’t call that a burden,” Aradon huffs.

  Eldowyn narrows his eyes at the princess, brushing the remark off. “It’s confusing.” His mouth curls, but it isn’t a smile, more a wonderment. “I can’t look into her soul. With mortals I always can, but she blocks me out. Almost as if something is fighting me off.” He looks to Aradon. “Like you. Has you being a Besged have anything to do with that? Are you blessed with immunity to elf powers as you are blessed with long life and immortal qualities?”

  Aradon scoffs. How could he possibly know he was a Besged? It’s something he tells no one, not even Kaniel. Awyn doesn’t even know. It’s the biggest death sentence he carries—worse than him being Idies’ heir. If anyone knew…he’d be captured and turned into a weapon. And his freedom is what he values most in this world.

  He glares at the elf. “Mysteries behind my kind are numerous, and the answers are hidden. As for Awyn, I can sense something different in her. Almost as if there is something inside of her fighting for control.” He runs his fingers through his hair. “She called me broken.”

  Eldowyn raises an eyebrow. “Are you?”

  “Maybe, but no matter how broken I am, no one could know how damaged she is, not even herself.”

  Eldowyn smiles slightly. “Do you care about her?”

  Aradon’s eyes widen, looking at Eldowyn across the glowing embers.

  “It just seems like you…have feelings for her.”

  Aradon scoffs, shaking his head, looking back at the mountain face. He looks up at the stars, the millions of them staring down at the earth, and he wonders if she is looking up at the same stars.

  The next morning, the four of them ride on, a light breakfast in their stomachs, the cool breeze against their skin. Awyn, at the back of the group, looks ahead at Eldowyn. “Eldowyn, when did you arrive at the Kawa with your brother?”

  Eldowyn looks back, pain in his eyes as he no doubt thinks of his twin. He slows slightly to ride more abreast of her. “Well, we…arrived at different times. In Radian—more specifically the forest city where we lived—when Revera and her army of Dalorin were massacring our city, she captured us. She killed my father in front of me after he had chosen to sacrifice Kepp for my life...” He drifts off.

  Aradon’s head perks up as the elf speaks.

  Eldowyn sighs, and continues on, “She disappeared with my…mortified brother. But he wasn’t surprised.” The last sentence he seemed to choke out, barely able to say it. “I was left there, after my aunt had stabbed my father. I laid his head in my lap, and his eyes were closed, his body shaking. Three simple words came from his mouth. ‘I. Choose. You.’” He scoffs in an unusual, sarcastic way.

  “At least now I know where Kepp was all that time. He came to the Kawa three months after me and managed to seduce the leader of the supposedly wisest clan in all of Mortal. Now I realize…he was the smarter son.”

  “No, Eldowyn. He is blinded by hate and revenge for you. No doubt it was Revera’s plan for him to have a relationship with Kera,” Awyn says.

  Kaniel, who has been quiet, speaks for the first time since breakfast. “Kepp has a darkness in him. A natural demon, amplified by Revera’s trickery and magic. This Kepp…he is the same elf you grew up with, but part of him has been reconstructed by the sorceress.” He must have been listening. “There is darkness in everyone, including elves.”

 
Aradon, clearly agitated, gallops past Kaniel ahead of the group. “I’ll scout the coming trail,” he says, but his icy expression suggests he wants to get away from their talk of darkness more than anything. A darkness Awyn knows was once his identity, and his reality.

  As Aradon rides along the river, suddenly the thundering of the water quiets into a trickle. He stops, jumping to the ground and walks to the water, confused at the slow flow. Bending down, he puts his hand in it, shocked at the warmth and the reversed, nearly-absent current. He stands up, looking down the gravel trail and grabbing his horse’s reins, he walks around the mountain bend, shocked at what he sees.

  Boulders, gravel, and stone block their path, acting like a dam for the water. A complete block. The rubble is high, and the sun just pokes out over the rough top. The water spills over the path, climbing higher by the minute.

  “We can’t turn back now,” he mumbles under his breath. Looking up to the top of the pile, he leaves his horse, walking to the base of the rocks, looking for a crevice or ledge to place his foot.

  At the top, he holds out his arms as he staggers, loose rocks under his feet. When he gets his footing, he looks out, seeing the plains of Hadore shining in the sunlight. The river on the other side flows slowly, the water low, but still sparkling in the midday sun.

  Aradon cries out as a sharp pain tears into his leg. Looking down, he’s horrified to see an arrow. Trembling, he wraps his fingers around it, pulling it out. He groans, stumbling back, giving all his strength not to fall backward. A second arrow flies by his head, scratching his cheek. Looking down, he spies a hint of red. He grabs his bow, and takes aim, the arrow finding its target as the yell below sounds, and the man falls. Hadorian soldiers.

  “Wait! I come in peace!” he yells, but ten men rush out of hiding behind rocks, shooting arrows and climbing up the pile of mountain rubble, swords in their hands. In a second Aradon’s mindset changes, and he turns into the Red Warrior he was trained to be. He dodges an arrow, shooting a man in the chest. As the man falls, Aradon hears a crunch of stone and whirls around, landing on one knee, stabbing another man in the leg, who falls backward onto a stone slab clutching his leg as blood pumps through his fingers. Another opponent comes at him, and he fights for his life.

  But not as Aradon.

  As Slayer.

  As Awyn, Kaniel, and Eldowyn near the bend, Eldowyn’s eyebrows crinkle. “There’s a noise up ahead. A battle cry.”

  Kaniel and Eldowyn look at each other as if they know what this means. As they urge their horses on faster, Awyn, in confusion follows their lead, not knowing what they’re hearing, until they round the corner. Clashes of swords, grunts of men, and yells of pain reach her. She blocks out the sun, wanting to grab a better look.

  And what she sees leaves her speechless.

  On the mountain of rubble, Aradon is stabbing and piercing men with arrows, his sword unsheathed and dripping with crimson blood. Flashes of red sparkle in the sun, the black-cloaked warrior clashing swords with a man dressed in a uniform.

  “Aradon! Stop! They’re soldiers!” Kaniel yells out.

  Aradon looks down at them, his hair tousled, blood spattered all over him, with his own blood dripping from his leg and cheek.

  “Aradon! Aradon!”

  The Red Warrior looks at the man below him, the man who he holds his sword to. Aradon drops his sword, stepping away from the man, who stumbles back on the unstable rock mound, standing with three other soldiers. They look down at the others, their breathing heavy, and one of them steps toward Aradon. The soldiers don’t give up their swords, though, as one sticks his to Aradon’s throat.

  “What business does a man, an elf, a Delcah, and a girl have coming to Hadore?”

  When Aradon doesn’t answer, the man holds up his sword. “What business do you have in our country?”

  “We come to see the king!” Kaniel yells up at the man, who looks down at him.

  Awyn is worried, wondering what the Delcah or elf could possibly say to make these soldiers ignore the fact that Aradon just killed some of them.

  “A wise man like you should know we are not keen on visitors seeking the king in times such as these,” the soldier says.

  Eldowyn, jumping from his horse, steadily climbs up the pile to Aradon’s side, the man shifting his sword to him. “I am Eldowyn of Radian, son of Lord Rowan. I have spent the last many years living among the Kawa. With us are Kaniel the Delcah, and his friend Aradon, a great warrior. We simply request a meeting with your King Neodyn. We have something of interest for him.”

  The black-haired man suspiciously eyes them. “And the girl?”

  Awyn ducks behind Kaniel. But Eldowyn raises his head. “The something of interest.”

  The soldier scans the elf, eyebrow slightly raised. “This man has the insignia of the Red Warriors hidden under his cloak flap.” His eyes are menacing. “Care to explain this?”

  Eldowyn and Kaniel audibly swallow, but the elf recovers from his obvious shock well as he steps forward. “Are these not dangerous times? Having the sign of the red dragon while traveling is smart in the dangerous plains of Nomarah.”

  Seeming satisfied, he lowers his sword, motioning to one of the other soldiers. “Restrain this one.” He points to Aradon, who holds out his hands without hesitation, his eyes dark and face sullen. The rope is bound tightly around his wrists, the soldiers clearly nervous. “Help those two up the rocks.” The soldier points to the other one, who climbs down toward Awyn and Kaniel.

  The soldier stops in his tracks when he sees their horses. “Sir! These are of the Everbreed.” The black-haired man looks down at the four horses, and his hard stare pierces into Eldowyn.

  “Who are you?” He grabs his collar.

  “I have told you everything you must know. The rest we leave for the king.”

  The soldier snarls but takes his hands off Eldowyn. He turns to his soldiers and puts his fist in the air. “Move out! To Thasoe!”

  Chapter Eight

  Awyn, in the middle of the group, walks beside Kaniel as the troupe walks along the plains of Hadore. The black-haired man, Ascar is at the front, leading them to the Hadorian capital of Thasoe, and she wonders about his path choice.

  “Sir, why are we not on the roads? We passed one a few hours ago.”

  “The soldiers never take the roads anymore. War is evident in times like these, so we take the fields.”

  Awyn, satisfied with his answer, looks behind at Aradon, whose hands are still tied with ropes. The guard walking behind him holds the end of the rope, no longer has white knuckles, he’d loosened his grip a while ago. She doesn’t like this, seeing him tied up like some criminal. But deep down, seeing him fighting like that, it makes her wonder if not all of him was changed during his stay with the Tanea.

  She stops, turning toward Aradon, glancing at the guard who eyes her with caution and suspicion. She holds out her hand, wanting the rope, and the guard raises an eyebrow. She sighs. “Oh, it’s not as if I’m going to let him go free.”

  Hesitantly, but with a hint of relief, he hands over the rope, walking hastily away from the Red Warrior. When everyone has their backs to them, she drops the rope without hesitation. Aradon looks at her as they walk, a hint of a smile crossing his face. “Thank you,” he whispers. Awyn smiles. “It doesn’t feel good to be led along like a dog.”

  Awyn tilts her head casually. “Well, it wasn’t completely non-selfish. Kaniel is quite boring when he doesn’t speak.” Aradon quietly chuckles, and Awyn giggles along with him. “But I didn’t like seeing you being tied up. Being treated like a prisoner,” she says, looking into his eyes. “It’s not right.” She fights for a smile, then looks down for a moment, preparing herself for the question she’s about to ask. But the words don’t come as easily as she wants them to. “You...didn’t seem like yourself...earlier. You seemed—”

  “Like a monster?”

  Awyn quickly looks up at him. He stares down on her, pain in his eyes. “No, not a
t all!” she quickly says, but not as convincingly as she wanted to be. “You were just more…well...” She struggles for the words, thinking that perhaps “monster,” is the right word.

  “I may not be a monster, but I get…into a different state of mind at certain…well, it elicits another part of me. I’m turned into my old self, the Red Warrior I was trained to be. Fighting is the worst of them all. When I smell the bitterness of blood or feel a piercing of an...” He winces slightly, and Awyn wonders if he was wounded and hasn’t told them. But if the pain is bad, he’s bearing it well. “An arrow. It’s like I’m under a spell, where certain things will turn me into a killing...”

  “Monster?”

  Aradon looks down at Awyn, and lifts a brow, clearly amused. “I guess you know a thing or two about monsters.”

  Awyn smirks at this, remembering her uncle and his sorceress companion. “Maybe a thing or two,” she says with a small smile, but it fades quickly. It’s all she can do to stand, so smiling takes not only energy, but also little pieces of her sanity it seems.

  Aradon smiles, looking out onto the plains and he scans the horizon. He turns his head sharply as Awyn gasps, “Oh, it’s so beautiful.”

  In front of them, the entrance to the gold marble city of Thasoe lies. The two pillars stretch high into the sky, their golden, smooth surfaces glittering in the sunlight. As they get closer, two guards standing under the pillars welcome them when they see Ascar. They climb the marble steps on the green hill, Awyn looking in awe at the glow above them. When they reach the top, another gasp leaves her lips. Her eyes widen, and her jaw drops. Before them, the city of Thasoe sits. Gold marble, and cylindrical buildings scatter the stone streets, domed with gold ceilings, sparkling in the late afternoon sun.