Daegan (The Age of Alandria: A Companion Novella)

by Wylie, Morgan

  Thinking for a moment, she nodded her consent. “Yes, you are dismissed, but hurry straight back to your village. From which village did you come?”

  “Kandri, my lady. Thank you, we will take our leave.” Both his parents bowed slightly as they backed slowly toward their carriage.

  “Safe travels to you both,” the lady spoke with a little finger wave of her hand. Both she and the warrior turned back to their horses and fellow riders. As she passed by one of the riders, she paused and looked deep into his eyes. “You have not been with us long, so this is your mission: Take care of them.” She mounted her horse, as did the others who were on foot, except the man she left standing there staring ahead at the backs of his parents.

  “Do it and be done with it!” she spat.

  “I don’t understand,” he whispered back to her. “You told them they were free to leave. They are not the ones we were searching for—why kill them?” He spoke flatly, not to betray his true emotions on the matter.

  “In this force, you do not question my commands.” She brought her horse around to circle him as she stared down at him, like a lion ready to pounce on its prey. “If you want to stay with us and advance within our ranks, then you will do as I command. Is that understood?”

  Without response, without thought, without emotion, the young rider reached for his bow as he grabbed two arrows, simultaneously stringing one and releasing it, then stringing the other as soon as its twin left the bow. He turned before even seeing his shots. He didn’t need to. He wouldn’t miss. He never did. As he headed back to his horse, the archer could hear their hushed, strangled murmurs of love for each other.

  The last in his envoy to pass by the carriage, he looked down into each of their eyes. They were still holding hands. “I am truly sorry. More than you know. Please forgive me.”

  “Young man, we already did. It is you who will need to forgive yourself.” His father’s words came weak, but genuine as he spoke. He watched as the rider with unshed tears began to break, but the young Elf refused himself and regained his composure. Refilling the cracks in the figurative armor he had erected around his emotions needed in order to pull the bow, he would not allow himself the freedom to grieve—instead, he would live with what he had done.

  The archer, reluctant to leave the couple dying on the road, but with no other alternative, whistled a complicated yet short tune into the wind. A tiny bird, smaller than a female fist, flew right up onto his outstretched hand. Looking at the little silver bird with the blue streak down its back, he whispered to it. The bird sang a sorrowful song as it took off, circling over the couple, then landed on his mother’s head. It looked as if it was about to peck his mother’s forehead, but instead it left a kiss and then moved on to his father for the same.

  The boy, stunned and in shock, looked back at his mother’s head, noticing the little bird had left a pearlized white marking but couldn’t tell what the symbol was from where he hid. Then the little silver and blue bird took off into the now darkening sky and, when it reached the treetops, it suddenly vanished. The boy did not know what kind of magic the bird had, but he wished he knew now. He wanted the shooter to leave so badly, so he could check on his parents. Perhaps he could help them get up.

  Responding to his wish, the archer mounted his horse and looked around once more, searching for something or someone. With desperation in his eyes, he ordered his horse, “To Elnye... Hyah!” It took off at a run as fast as a beast of its size could manage.

  When the shooter was far out of sight, the boy emerged slowly from his hiding place beneath the greenery. He ran, stumbling as he went, to reach his family lying still on the hard, rough dirt road. Coming to an abrupt halt and falling to his knees, he ran his hopeful eyes over each of his parents to see how he might help.

  “What do I do? Father... Mother...” He choked on a sob. His small fingers hovered over the part of the wooden arrow sticking out of his father’s chest. “Do I pull it out?”

  His father’s hand struggled to reach up and loosely grab the boy’s hand. “Son... Son, look at me.”

  The boy looked, but didn’t want to. He didn’t want to see the pain or regret in his father’s eyes. But instead, he gazed at love and confidence. The boy let loose the tears that had been threatening to fall. One by one, they trailed down his rosy cheeks until the dark, bloodstained earth below absorbed them.

  “Son, there is nothing you can do, nor was there anything you could have done with them here. Now, you can escape. Follow the plan—head to the mountains... Ar...i...l... find you.” His words became more choked as he tried to get his last words out. “Fol-l-ow... this...” His hand rested on his son’s heart.

  The boy cried harder, gripping his father’s hand as his mother’s hand reached over and grabbed his other one—the circle their family had always been and never would be again.

  Tears streamed down his mother’s face as she looked on her son with love and pride. “You can do this. You must hide,” she whispered. “Always fight the darkness. Remember... you are light.”

  The boy nodded through his tears, knowing his mother needed to see him brave—to know that he would be all right. He took a deep breath.

  There was a noise off in the distance. Flapping. A bird? And a thundering beat. A horse? Then there was a buzzing in the boy’s head like static. He had never felt it before. The wind began to blow strangely, whipping the hair off the boy’s brow, but oddly not his parents’. There was a strange peace and serenity blanketing them. Their breathing became more labored. Panic began to build in the boy’s chest as he looked wildly around, trying to shield his mother and father as best he could.

  “Look at us. Go. It is time,” his father stressed.

  The young boy took one last look at his mother and father, etching their faces forever onto the still soft clay of his young heart. Taking a deep breath, he reluctantly nodded, knowing what he needed to do.

  His mother shouted with all that was left in her, “Daegan, run!”

  CHAPTER ONE

  Alandria. The castle at Elnye in the territory of Feraánmar

  16 years later...

  Daegan woke with the edginess that dreaming of his mother and father always brought him. As much as seeing them alive and talking with them made him feel like they were still here and that he had family, the waking memory of watching them shot down and killed in front of him, stirred the steely anger of revenge along with unsettled confusion all over again. Not only that, but every time he had the dream, something bad seemed to follow.

  Running his hands down his face, he breathed deeply and took a moment to focus his inner magic, which brought him a tiny fraction of a sense of peace. Daegan prepared for a rigorous day of training that would help clear the cobwebs of the past and distract him, as well as prepare him for what else might be coming.

  Unfortunately, he didn’t get the chance to get to the training field. On his way down the hall from his quarters on the second floor in the east corridor, a severe pain in his head stopped him in his tracks. As Daegan gripped his head, he slowly fell to his knees, sliding against the cold hard stone wall.

  He didn’t get these headaches very often, but when he did they rendered him immobile for at least a couple of minutes. He had been trying to devise a defense for himself should it ever happen while he was in the middle of fighting a real enemy, but he had yet to do so.

  Feeling the cold stone of the floor under the hand he was using to balance himself provided a slight distraction from the pain. Then, as soon as it came on him, it was suddenly just... gone. It was strange and he was not even sure who to mention it to. He had mentioned it once to his aunt Maleina, one of the Paladin—rulers of Feraánmar alongside his uncle Wren—but she had dismissed it as a possible side effect of coming into his state of maturity regarding his magic. But no one else that he knew of had any similar reactions.

  Daegan was on his way to meet Halister, son of Wren and Maleina, also his friend and brother. They were to gather where
he and the other members of the guard were training in combat and weaponry, when something happened to him that had only happened a handful of times.

  He started walking in the opposite direction of where he was intending to go. When Daegan tried to correct himself and turn around, the pressure in his head would intensify until he turned back the way his body wanted to head. What is this? I am not in control! he thought. Panic started to brew in his chest. Frustration growled out of his throat. He tried one more time to pull out of the singular dirt path he was walking on, only to find it even harder than the last time. It felt as if an outside force had taken over his body, but let him keep his own awareness. Madness!

  He knew the path he was on; it led down to where some of the shifters that lived amongst the Faeries and Ferrishyn camped. Since the uprising in Feraánmar and the takeover in Adettlyn, the people of Alandria had been split, many retreating to the dwellings of their birthplace and home to their race. However, there were still some people who chose not to go back, instead staying within the territories where they had become the minority. Unfortunately, to Daegan’s displeasure many of them were either ostracized as outcasts or threatened and abused if they had twined families. Twined was a term that was often used derogatorily, but had become common for those who had a mixed family.

  Daegan had a bad feeling, but he couldn’t understand what his purpose would be here. He began to fight his muscles and his own limbs; it would work for a brief moment, but then one pain would pierce his head, another his left shoulder, and he would lose what little ground he made. Finally, he tried one last time and gave it everything he had within him, even summoning his own magic to assist. He made it all the way around and even managed to throw himself off the trail down an embankment. He gripped his head tightly as an unbelievable amount of pain struck his nervous system and shut him down completely. He felt himself go limp right before darkness seized him.

  ✠✠✠

  Having been awakened to a cold bucket of water being thrown onto his head was a shock. To realize, after jumping up from the hay stack he had been lying in, that he was in the stables and nowhere near where he had been right before he blacked out was an even greater shock, not to mention a bit troubling considering he remembered absolutely nothing of how he got there. Gaining his faculties, Daegan looked around, taking in everything. Halister was standing over him holding the empty bucket and looking a little too pleased with himself.

  “Taking an afternoon nap, are we?” Halister snickered and winked at Daegan. Looking back over his shoulder at the scrawny kid who was peeking in around the edge of the empty stall, he added, “If it wasn’t for young Silát there, you would have missed all of practice and then you’d have to deal with Mother. Really, you owe him a debt of gratitude.” Halister nodded back at the young boy, who gave a tentative smile.

  Daegan gave Hal a look equivalent in tone to an eye roll that Silát did not see, but then turned to the boy and nodded, smiling appreciatively. “Thank you, Silát. Is there anything you would require of me, as payment for your kindness and discretion toward me?”

  Hal nodded and gave Daegan a reaffirming wink that only irritated him more.

  “Well, sir, if it is not too much trouble”—the boy hesitated—“I should like to learn how to use a sword like you and Master Halister do.” The boy shrank back almost completely behind the wide log that framed the doorway.

  “Done,” Daegan confirmed as Hal pulled him fully off the haystack he had been sitting in.

  “Really?” The boy’s eyes lit up and he came close to fully entering the stall, but caught himself at the last minute.

  “Really. I will be heading out soon for a bit, but sometime after that I should have time. Find me. Or better yet, how about tomorrow first thing before I leave?”

  The boy nodded excitedly as Hal shooed him out the stable doors.

  “That was sporting of you,” Hal said with a twinkle in his eyes.

  “Well, apparently according to you I had to offer him something. What if I would not have been able to fulfill what he wished?” Seeing the look on Hal’s face, Daegan huffed, “You already knew what he wanted. Good one, brother.” He punched Hal in the arm and Hal feigned pain.

  “Actually it was good of him to come to me. If anyone else had found you or if he had gone to another, they may have tried to take advantage of you or the situation knowing we would not want Maleina to find out—even if you are her favorite guard.” Hal mock punched him back. He then sobered up and looked Daegan over. “Are you all right? It’s not like you to take a rest during the day, especially when you are expected to be at training. Something is wrong, I can see it in your eyes. What is it?”

  Daegan shook his head, not even sure how or what to tell Hal. It was not something you heard of happening—maybe to the weak of mind, but Daegan was not that. “I blacked out. I have no memory of what happened. I was on my way to the field and suddenly felt strange, then blacked out.” It was the truth, just not all of it, but he had too much at stake to be considered unstable—people depended on him.

  Hal frowned at him. “That is not the story in its entirety, but for whatever reason you are withholding it, I will let it be for now.” He sighed. “There are strange and dark things happening around Elnye. I want to be ready to defend it, but I don’t even know what is out there.”

  Daegan reached out a hand, putting it on Hal’s shoulder. “I understand how you feel. I also do not know what to make of it.”

  They walked out of the stables with confidence, as if they had just been riding or were in there for a specific reason, but they encountered no one else along the way back to the field. Though practice was mostly finished for the day, Daegan wanted to—needed to—get some swings in and fight the invisible demons with the hope to alleviate some of his own.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Being on the field gave Daegan a sense of belonging and peace. There was no other time or place in his life—other than being boys with Hal—that he felt accepted and in control and completely confident in his next move. There wasn’t much that was tried on him that caught him off guard. Daegan had always known he would make an excellent warrior. He had wanted it for as long as he could remember.

  Because he was late to practice, he was to be “punished”—Halister’s idea, of course, but Daegan welcomed it. They played a little game where the offender was on point and the rest came at him one and sometimes two at a time with swords or knifes or staffs. It was suppose to be punishment because the one on point had to get through the entire squad before tiring. If he didn’t, after a short break, he had to do it all over again.

  However, Daegan relished in the thrill of it; he loved being on point. They came at him one at a time and then two and then even three warriors at once to add to the challenge. They knew he could take it. Swords clanged and the sound of staffs and spears flying through the air ignited a passion within him. It distracted him. He felt alive and in control. The line soon tapered off as he had gone through the whole squad.

  “Again!” Daegan shouted. The drill master took in his condition, then nodded his consent to the squad. They lined up, ready to go at him again.

  Clang. Block. Parry. His feet danced within a small area that he allotted for himself while his arms moved fluidly. There was rhythm and grace in his movements. He became one with the energy of his sword.

  In the back of his head, Daegan knew they were not truly his enemies so he checked his movements slightly at the finish of each swing, careful not to actually maim any of his squad brothers. He did not recognize one sparring partner from the next, until he came up against Hal. They had been sparring since they were boys and Daegan knew what Hal could take so he planned to take him to his limits.

  “Advance!” The only signal, informing Hal of his intentions.

  They stood face to face with their swords locked between them. Halister got a gleam in his eyes and a smirk on his face. He responded, ready for the show, “Begin.”

  Hal turne
d out of their standoff, sword ready, his feet moving in time with Daegan’s. This was a chess match familiar to them both. Daegan circled him as a predator waiting for a tell, or sign, of Halister’s next move. Daegan was patient and intent. Hal tended to be impulsive, but could be more creative.

  “Are you tired already?” Hal taunted. “You’re not giving me anything to work with.”

  Daegan raised an eyebrow. He knew this was part of Hal’s show. He loved to talk. It would not work.

  “Make a move then.” Daegan laughed.

  So he did. Halister began to thrust forward toward him. Daegan parried right to block, but at the last second Halister checked his swing and rotated the sword in his hand for a downward motion toward Daegan’s feet. He would have pierced his foot had Daegan not retreated quickly.

  “What was that?” Daegan growled out.

  “I made a move.”

  “Not a very good one,” Daegan grumbled under his breath. “Fight me.” Daegan led off with a fast thrust, but Halister caught the sword in his cross guard and countered with his own strike, thus beginning a very intense round of swordplay. Their movements were tight and kept close to their bodies. For all of Halister’s playfulness, he was indeed a fierce warrior and knew how to read movements almost as well as Daegan.

  The rest of the warriors gathered around them in a circle watching with anticipation. A noise—the cry of a bird—in the distance caused Hal’s eyes to flick to the sky for the briefest moment, which Daegan took advantage of. He thrust forward with his sword and Hal predictably blocked it. Daegan then reached with his free hand, grabbed Hal’s shoulder and tripped him backwards over his strategically placed legs, throwing Hal effectively to the ground.

  Jumping to his feet, Halister shouted, “Out.” Moving out of the way, he mumbled, “Wretched bird,” knowing Daegan would hear him. In turn, Daegan laughed quietly, satisfied and awaiting his next opponent. “You are enjoying this too much, brother.” Daegan nodded with a slight smile, though he was beginning to feel the effects of the day.