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Rain entered the protective bubble of air and felt a strange chill go through her body. As soon as she was through, she could see everyone in the chairs around the table. Everything outside of the small area was blurry.

She recognized the king, and a beautiful elf sat next to him with her hand on his, who had to have been the Queen. Aeraldor and Rowena were there. Beside them were a dryad and a faerie, the former with deep green leaves for hair and a surprisingly human-like green skinned body, and the latter child-sized but with a womanly winged body. It was quiet, and she felt all of them staring at her, some kind and some scrutinizing.

Whiskey sat beside the king and seemed to avoid looking at Rowena, who sat on the other side of the queen. Rain and Shea sat on the other side of Whiskey, next to Aeraldor. Rain smiled at Rowena and the centaur in greeting as she took her seat.

“Welcome, Rain of Willshire and Lieutenant Shea of Eastcastle. It is a pleasure to have you here,” the king said. “Now, I believe you haven’t met us all.” He looked to the elf-woman beside him, suggesting she talk next.

“I am Maevara, wife of Arthain and queen of the Elves,” she said with a warm smile. She was exquisitely beautiful, wearing a simple but elegant dress of dark blue, her long dark hair flowing down her back.

Next to her was Rowena, and she nodded her head to Shea, the only one she had not met yet. “I am Rowena, representing the Wizards along with Deaglan.” She said this without a flicker of a glance at Whiskey.

The dwarf stood up, and the introductions proceeded around the circle. “I am King Gaelin Strongfist of the dwarves,” he said. He wore a dark tunic with a brown leather vest and had a large axe at his belt, which made her feel a bit better about wearing a dagger.

Next was the gnome, who wore thin leather armor and carried his own long dagger at his hip. He introduced himself as Mervin Gromley, leader of the gnomes.

Beside him was Queen Terramina of the dryads, who greeted her with a warm smile. A simple brown long-sleeved dress covered her green skin.

Alaea, queen of the faeries, sat by the dryad. She was short and small, perhaps a foot taller than the gnome, with light brown wavy hair that surrounded her petite face. She had the ears of an elf and magnificent clear wings spread out behind her, large enough that Rain thought they would be able to lift her above the ground. Her dress, a plain cream color, was thin and had jagged ends that closely draped her pale skin and hung to the bottoms of her feet. Her seat was a stool rather than a chair, to allow room for her wings. “I represent the whole of the faerie kingdom, as there are many races and beings that cannot have representatives here at the Council,” she explained. She sounded much older than she appeared.

Last was Aeraldor. He stepped his front hoof back and bowed. “I am Aeraldor, speaker for the centaurs.” He did not have a chair, and appeared quite comfortable standing.

“Now then,” Arthain began, “Rain, is a Sister of the moon elves, and therefore a wielder of innate magic. Lieutenant Shea is a Knight of Callaghan.”

There were a few gasps around the table. “What’s a Knight of Callaghan doing here?” Gaelin asked, not bothering to hide the harshness in his voice.

“He won’t cause trouble,” Whiskey said. “He’s with us. He carries an aegis.” He nodded at Shea to show it. The lieutenant took it out from under the collar of his shirt so people could see it.

“Humph. Since when does the presence of the aegis prove anything?” the dwarf asked. “Those traitors are probably using magic behind everyone’s backs, for their own use. Hypocrites, the lot of them.” He glared at Shea, then at Whiskey.

“My father gave this to me,” Shea said, his anger bubbling to the surface. “I have reason to believe he was killed by his fellow Knights for supporting my mother in her use of healing magic.”

There was a hushed silence for a few moments. King Arthain looked at Gaelin and cleared his throat. Gaelin looked down at the table. “I apologize, Lieutenant,” he said. Shea nodded.

“I for one am glad to meet you,” Queen Terramina said, directing her comment more towards Rain. “I’ve heard so much about you. The last hope of the moon elves, you are. I wasn’t here when you were found, twenty years ago. My predecessor was… struck by illness.”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Rain said quietly. Speaking to large groups of such important people was unusual and daunting to her.

“We must speak of certain important matters,” the King said, mercifully filling the awkward silence. “Myrna’s Soulblight is spreading. From Deaglan’s information, she also has knowledge of Sister Rain’s existence, and is searching for her. Myrna is also using armies of craetons and Wingmasters to kidnap people by the hundreds. For what, we do not know yet. We also have some interesting new information related to the moon elves. Through a dream, you said?” he asked Whiskey.

“Yes. A Demonmaster used a Dreamwalker to send Rain a message.”

Rowena frowned. “A Dreamwalker? That’s powerful magic.”

“It’s true. Show them, Rain.” Whiskey said.

She took the paper out from where she had tucked it under her belt, and placed it at the center of the table. The dark bloodstains and sharp handwriting looked more menacing than ever against the soft white of the heartwood table. Everyone was silent for a moment.

“I can almost feel the spirit magic wafting from that thing,” Alaea murmured.

“Oh, for Haedin’s sake,” Gaelin said, and picked it up, reading it aloud.

The moon elves will be vanquished. The Sisters will be killed. I will find you. Do not continue on this path, maiden. You are the last. You will fail. This is your first warning.

                                                                                    Dar’Quath

After a moment, Gaelin seemed finally affected by the power and threat of the note, and tossed it back on the table as if he regretted ever touching it.

“He uses the term ‘maiden,’ the typical word for a young female moon elf,” Mervin said, speaking up for the first time. “It also hints that the moon elves are probably still alive somewhere.”

“It only hints,” King Gaelin stressed in a deep, accented voice, “It also hints at a second warning. I’d not like to be the one to receive it. We do not know anything for sure. How do we know this information isn’t false?”

“We cannot disregard the warning.” Terramina gestured to the note on the table. “It would not trouble me so if it were fake.” Some of the Council members nodded their heads in agreement.

Gaelin raised his voice. “We cannot rely on only our personal opinions! We need evidence to show that the warning should be fully heeded.”

“Information seems to be the one thing we need the most,” Alaea said calmly.

“What can we do about the abducted people of Graemar?” Shea asked. Rain sensed he’d been holding in his question. “If they are still alive, I’d like to know where, and to save them as soon as possible.”

“Of course you would,” Terramina said, with a sneer in her voice. “Because your people are so much more in danger than my own. We are losing people daily to the Soulblight. My people do not live through it like the elves and the dwarves. We must find a cure, and fast.”

“Of course we have to find a cure,” Aeraldor said angrily. “My own people have to abandon their old ways of living, leaving our homes to ask for help from others. But the dryads and the centaurs are no more important than the humans. Our own Rowena and Deaglan are humans too, if you remember. If only with longer lives. We have to work together. It’s not the time to bring up old rivalries.”

“Thank you, Aeraldor. Well said.” Arthain gave each person and creature around the table a hard look. “Alaea spoke well. The one thing we need most is information.”

“What about gathering forces, building more of an army?” Shea asked. “Surely it’s only a matter of time before Myrna sends more craetons our way.”

“Let’s not get too hasty,” Arthain said. “I do not mean to downplay your idea, but we don’t exactly know that an army is what we truly need to dispel this threat. We need more information before we start spending resources on more weapons and armor.”

“We don’t need an army?” the dwarf said, incredulous. “Then why are we training troops? Why are my men here? ”

“We need troops to protect us, not to launch an offensive attack. We don’t even know where Myrna’s base of operations is, and could not make an attack like that if we wanted to. We need more information before we decide what to do.” The elven king rubbed his temples in frustration.

“You’re going in circles!” Gaelin said. “Do you even have any ideas on how to get this information?”

“What about the lake? Summoning the Goddess?” Rowena cut in. “We have someone here with the right magic to do it.”

“How do you know she could figure it out?” the dwarf challenged. “We’re just taking your word for the fact that she has the magic. Maybe you’re just hoping she does,” he said to Whiskey.”

“I’ve witnessed it,” Aeraldor said, glaring at the dwarf. “If anyone can’t be trusted, it’s you, Gaelin.”

“I am merely suggesting we be cautious. We can’t know if we can trust this note, if it came from Myrna.” The dwarf harrumphed and seemed to decide not to continue the argument.

“I think it’s a great idea, and no one seems to have anything better to add,” Terramina said.

“Before we lay all our hopes on this one girl, maybe we should see a demonstration of her power,” Mervin said. “If you don’t mind, Sister, of course.”

After a moment, Rain realized he was talking to her. She wasn’t used to the title. “Uh, no, I guess not,” Rain said. Her mind blanked. What could she do to convince them she could summon a Goddess, if even they didn’t know how to do it?

“She shot one of my archer’s bows, for goodness’ sake. You know how heavy they are, without practice,” Aeraldor said to Mervin.

Whiskey leaned over and whispered for her to show them something using orange energy, to show she’d already gotten that far. “Be creative,” he said, winking. “Consider it your first test. Sisters usually have tests when they’re learning, anyway.”

Everyone was silent, waiting for her to do something. She closed her eyes, holding out a hand over the table, feeling silly, but focusing nonetheless. She pictured the first thing that came to her mind—an Ellwood apple. She focused on the red color, the sweet, crispy taste, the weight of the fruit. Then she imagined it sitting on the table in front of her. The warmth of the energy flowed into her hands.

There were gasps around the table. She opened her eyes and saw the apple sitting in front of her. Shea picked it up, everyone else apparently too stunned to speak. He tossed it in the air. “Feels real to me,” he said, and took a bite. “Tastes good, too.”

“I apologize, it’s been years since I saw innate magic in practice,” Arthain said. “May I see it?”

Shea tossed the apple to the king. He caught it and took a bite for himself. “He’s right. A true Ellwood apple. Have you ever conjured this before?”

“No,” Rain said.

Rowena beamed at her. “Your magic is strong.” Then, she spoke to the table, “I have faith she can do the task.”

Finally unable to hold her questions in, Rain asked, “Who is this goddess you want me to summon?”

“She is the spirit of Lake Dolmeria, the only remaining landmark of the moon elves. In the center of the lake is a summoning circle, only accessible by a small, two person boat. She can only be summoned by a Sister of the moon elves,” Rowena said.

“And you don’t know how to summon her?”

“We are not sure,” Rowena confirmed. “That was one secret we were not able to learn from the moon elves. They do not share all their ways with others. You must discover how yourself.”

“It’s dangerous, and might be a waste of time,” Whiskey said. “We don’t even know if the Goddess will give us any useful information.”

Rowena glared at him, the first hostile look she’d yet seen from her. “It will not be a waste of time. I’ve heard that the summoning process is simple for someone who understands and practices innate magic. Can you think of any other way to find a cure for the Soulblight?”

Whiskey glared back. “She shouldn’t have to be forced to do this—”

“I know you’re protective of her, but she could be our only hope.”

Rain thought of the elves, centaurs, dryads, and other races represented here at the Council. She was frightened to think what would happen if the entirety of Ellwood contracted the Soulblight, and a cure was unable to be found. Whole races would disappear. She couldn’t stand them fighting about her either, and felt a sense of adventure steal over her again. She had to help these people. Gathering courage to speak, she cut in.

“I’ll do it.”

Whiskey and the dwarf looked surprised, and the rest of them smiled at her decision.

Shea spoke up. “I’ll go with her. She needs someone who knows their way around unknown territory.” At his words and the thought of going with him alone, the familiar feelings of both uneasiness and intrigue filled her and she felt butterflies in her stomach.

“Trust a Knight with our ‘only hope’?” Gaelin said. “I think not.”

“He’s trustworthy,” Rain said, surprising herself at her sudden defense of Shea. “He’s waited his whole life to be with people like us, who believe in the good of magic. Won’t you give him a chance?” she asked the dwarf.

“I think it’s a good idea,” Rowena said. “The rest of us are needed here, caring for the sick and dealing with our own people. Even the guards we are training should all stay here to protect the city. She needs protection on the road, and I can’t think of a better person to go with her. Knights are trained to travel through unknown lands.”

No one else objected, and the dwarf stayed silent. Arthain nodded. “Good then, that’s settled. When she is summoned, you will ask about the Soulblight, and if she knows anything about a cure. She might have insight about Myrna. Perhaps she will know what to do. Also, see if she knows anything about what happened to the moon elves. If she does, it will be invaluable to us all.” Rain nodded, determined to do the task. “We will make the arrangements for your provisions and anything else you will need on your journey. Aeraldor will give you a map and explain your travel route once things are settled.”

“My bow was broken on the way here,” Rain confessed. “Will you perhaps have one I can borrow?”

“Of course,” Aeraldor said. “We will find one fit for a great archer,” he smiled.

Shea shifted in his seat. “How soon will we go?”

“As soon as we can get everything ready. This is an important mission, and you will be doing all the races of Ellwood and beyond a great favor. Tonight, if possible.”

“Are you sure starting out when it gets dark is a good idea?” the elf queen questioned quietly.

“Yes. As I said, the sooner you leave the better, and better if you were unseen as you traveled. We don’t want minions of the Demonmaster following you.”

“These days it pays to be cautious,” the dryad said. “I agree with your plan, Arthain, and may the light be with you in your travels.” The faerie agreed as well, and soon everyone else was nodding, if a few did so grudgingly.

The Council shortly was over, and Rain gave slight bows to everyone, touching her palms together in respect. She couldn’t seem to wipe the determined smile off her face, despite the voice in her head warning this could be more dangerous than she thought.

***

That evening, Whiskey led Rain and Shea to the stables when they were told the horses were ready. Nighttime in Belmaeron was brilliantly beautiful, with small glowing lights floating around like fireflies. Pan and Shea’s black stallion waited just outside the city, already saddled and bridled. They had carried their saddlebags and weapons from their rooms, and proceeded to strap them on their horses. Extra bags of provisions were waiting for them beside the horses, and they packed them as well.

A light misty fog hung under the trees, swirling around her legs. The elves had outfitted her with light leather armor for protection, and she wore pants for the first time in a while. It made her feel like a proper elven warrior. It wasn’t uncomfortable, though, and she felt like she had more flexibility. Her other traveling dress was tucked into her saddlebags. She also wore her belt and dagger, and had her aegis safely tucked under the neck of the leather armor. Even though she felt physically prepared and she knew leaving at night would probably be safer, she couldn’t help wishing they were leaving in the bright light of the morning.

In the shaded twilight beneath the city’s tiers and platforms, she saw Aeraldor standing beside the horses. When the three of them stopped a few feet away, Rain saw the centaur had a bow and quiver strapped across his back, and a folded piece of parchment in his hand.

“Hello travelers, Sister Rain and Lieutenant Shea.” The title made her feel uncomfortable, but she smiled and bowed slightly in return. “And Wizard Deaglan. Come to see them off?”

“Yes, I have.” He nodded at the parchment in Aeraldor’s hand. “Is that the map?”

The centaur stepped forward and unfolded the map so Rain and Shea could see it clearly. “Yes. It shows Ellwood and the vicinity.” He made a circle with his finger around a large area covered in small tree symbols, and then pointed at a small circle surrounded by dark ink, labeled “Lake Dolmeria,” to the southwest of Belmaeron. “This is your destination. It is about a week’s ride. Take this path,” he gestured to the earthen road before them, “and go right at the first fork. That will take you east. From there follow the edge of the cliffs along the Hollow. Follow the map when you get further west, and you’ll be fine. The moon elves resided on the western edge of Ellwood, and the region has plenty of its own dangers since their disappearance. The place you should be wary of is called the Dark Wood. Lake Dolmeria sits inside the Dark Wood. You won’t find it until you’re in it, and very few who have ventured there unprepared have ever returned. We know of a safe path through the Wood, though, and I have marked it on the map for you.” Rain glimpsed a small squiggly line drawn through the dark mass around the lake.

“What is in the Dark Wood that we must be protected from?” Shea asked.

Aeraldor looked at him gravely. “Dark things of the spirit world have been feeding off the residual power of the Sisters since they disappeared.” He turned to Rain. “You must not use your innate magic there unless you have to. The creatures will sense you using it, and they will be drawn to you.”

Fear crept into her. She nodded her understanding, but wasn’t sure how well she’d be able to follow his directions. What if she used magic in her sleep, or there was some reason she had to use it?

“Clear enough,” Shea said. He glanced at Rain and smiled. “She’ll be safe,” he said to Whiskey, who was looking rather miserable. The old wizard nodded and gave Shea a firm pat on the back.

“Rain,” Aeraldor said, “I chose this bow to replace your broken one.” He unstrapped the quiver and lifted the bow off his back. “I want you to keep it.”

Rain tentatively reached out and took the bow in her hands. It was as finely crafted as the one she shot at the training grounds, yet a detailed, intricate carving of spirals wound around the bow’s long length. It was also white. Heartwood.

“It’s beautiful!” she exclaimed, a grin escaping her lips.

“May the spirits of my ancestors be with you. That bow was my grandfather’s, and I expect it will protect you well, better than any normal bow would.”

Rain’s smile turned to a frown. “But I can’t accept this. Rowena said heartwood is rare these days. Surely you need it to protect the city?”

“You are an excellent archer, I have no doubt. You were born to use a bow. This one has served me well through my long years, and now I feel it should be passed on.” The look he gave her said he wouldn’t let her leave without it, so she decided not to argue and nodded gratefully, grinning. “It works best with these arrows,” he said, handing over his quiver.

“Thank you. They’re beautiful.” She brushed her fingers over an arrow’s perfect fletching, and then examined the bow, trying to judge its weight. “Will it be difficult to draw the string?”

“If you use your magic, you’ll be fine,” he smiled. He handed her the map. “I think it’s time.”

Shea nodded and mounted his horse. The dark stallion pranced in what Rain thought was anticipation, and Shea had to calm him down to keep him from bolting.

Rain strapped on the quiver and slung the bow onto her back, then hopped onto Pan. He too seemed nervous, but she gave him a reassuring pat, and he seemed to calm at her touch.

She turned around to look at Whiskey and say her goodbyes. It struck her that this would be the first time she’d be far away from him for an extended length of time. Sudden fear gripped her, and she couldn’t hide her worried frown.

Whiskey stepped beside her and laid a hand on her arm. “It’ll be alright. You can do this.” He pointed to the bow on her back. “Use it well. It is a fine gift.”

“Will you be alright?” she asked quietly, suddenly trying to find any excuse to stay.

“I’ll be fine, child. Now, go, you’re wasting time.” He winked and she momentarily forgot her fear.

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Link to Chapter 1 – Previous Chapter – Next Chapter

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She found another stairway leading to the ground level of Belmaeron and followed it, excitement building inside her. Elves, as she remembered from the legends she knew, were known as the best archers on the other side of the Fangs. She wondered what she hoped to do without a bow, but it didn’t dampen her anticipation.

The clangs of steel on steel, the shouts of orders being given and received, and the hammering of what she guessed was a forge echoed in the distance. Amid the giant trees, in large clearings, guards were being trained. She passed one clearing in which experts were sparring with trainees, like a dance with swords. After glancing at them she quickly turned away, afraid to disturb their concentration.

She continued down the path, her eyes following the tree trunks up to the platforms above to heights that never ceased to awe her. She stopped in front of one particularly enormous tree, watching the light breeze tease the leaves like playful children.

“Hello,” a deep voice said from behind her, startling her. She quickly turned and looked up at him. She took a step back in surprise. His bare, tanned chest was that of a man, but from the waist down he had a horse’s body, covered in chestnut-colored hair. She didn’t recall learning about this creature in her legends, but she racked her brain to try to remember. “You’re not from here, are you?”

“Um, no,” she said, unable to keep her eyes off his hooves. She kept thinking back to what legends she’d learned, but she couldn’t remember ever seeing a creature so strange, even in a picture. Yet she didn’t want to be impolite. “I’m sorry,” she smiled. “My name is Rain.” She held out her hand in greeting.

He paused a moment, and then seemed to remember what to do and shook her hand. “And mine is Aeraldor. I am the archery instructor here in Belmaeron.” He continued to shake her hand with his strong grip.

“You are?” She asked as he finally let go of her hand. Perhaps they didn’t shake hands here. She decided to stick to bowing. “Would you mind if I took a look at the training area? I’ve never been here before, and I wondered…”

“No, of course you can. Welcome to Belmaeron.” He smiled warmly. “This way,” he said, continuing down the path.

After a few twists and turns, they approached another clearing where three elven guards were shooting at targets marked on the trunk of one of the enormous trees. Two more guards stood off to the side, seeming to be waiting their turn. All the elves were male. The bows they used were much longer than she was used to, but she figured that wouldn’t matter, if she used magic.

“Kalmin,” Aeraldor said, and the elf at the far left turned around as he pulled out an arrow from the quiver strapped to his hip. The target in front of him had been hit with three arrows, tightly clustered around the middle of the target. “I have someone who would like to see our archery practice area. Would you care to demonstrate?”

The elf turned to look at her and nodded, smiling smugly. He looked young, perhaps her age, but because of the ageless look of elves, she could be wrong. On top of the typical light armor of the guards, they all wore dark blue sleeveless surcoats, with the symbol of the elves stitched in silver on the front: a tree encircled by a twisting, knotted design.

He turned back to face his target, raising his bow. Smoothly, he drew back the arrow he had just nocked. Immediately he let it go. It thudded into the center of the target, clustering with the other three arrows.

Aeraldor laid a hand on Kalmin’s shoulder. “Perfect shot, as always.”

“How heavy is the bow?” Rain asked, ready to compare it to the one she had used at home.

Both Aeraldor and Kalmin turned to look at her with curiosity. “You shoot?” Kalmin asked.

“Well, yes, I’ve been training for a while now.” She smiled uneasily, disappointed to find that women didn’t shoot here, either.

Aeraldor turned back to Kalmin. “Let her take a shot and see its weight for herself. Hand over your bow and an arrow.”

“You’re letting her shoot?” the guard standing beside Kalmin asked. “But she’s not in training. And besides, elf-women can’t—” He stopped in midsentence when Aeraldor gave him a stern look.

“Yes, Bremin, I am letting her shoot. Now give her the bow,” the centaur said with authority, and Kalmin did as he was asked.

Rain took the bow and an arrow from him, and marveled at their craftsmanship. The wood on the grip was cleanly polished, and the arrow had perfect fletching. Kalmin stepped aside and she took his place in front of the target. She noticed the silence around her as the two other guards that were shooting stopped and watched her. She had never felt so pressured to do this right.

She took a couple deep breaths to calm down, all the while feeling six pairs of eyes watching her. Trying not to pay attention to them, she emptied her mind of everything but the target. She nocked the arrow, lifted the bow, and began to draw the string, astonished at the strength required to pull it back. Unable to use her own strength, but not wanting to be viewed as weak after Bremin’s comment, she decided using her magic wouldn’t hurt. Letting the now familiar feeling of confident strength fill her, her hands began glowing red. Her strengthened muscles easily pulled the string all the way to her cheek, and she released the arrow.

It struck the tree trunk in the dead center of the target and joined the small cluster of arrows. She smiled in satisfaction and turned to Kalmin to give his bow back.

Instead of the praise she expected, they all stared at her strangely. Was it fear? “What was that red light?” Bremin asked warily.

“You’re a moon elf,” Kalmin said with astonishment. “And you shoot like a pro,” he said, winking. Thankfully, that broke the stunned silence and a few of them smiled, agreeing with him.

“But what’s a moon elf?” Bremin turned to Kalmin, confused.

“Leave it, Bremin.” Kalmin said, taking his bow back from her and getting out another arrow from his hip quiver.

“Get back to your practicing, all of you.” Aeraldor ordered. “And young elf,” he said, speaking quietly to her, “I’d like to speak with you for a moment.”

***

Rain nodded and followed, wondering what this was about. She glanced over her shoulder and saw that everyone but Bremin and Kalmin had begun shooting again. The two were talking quietly off to the side. Turning forward again, she followed the centaur down a sunlit path through the trees.

“Aeraldor, why did Kalmin know about moon elves, and not Bremin?” she asked.

“Kalmin is one of the few elves that study their race’s history,” he answered, looking at the road ahead. “He is young, but he has already learned much. I believe, if we did not need so many new recruits, he would have become a historian.”

Troubled with thoughts of loss, they walked in silence. Squirrels and birds rustled in the undergrowth and chattered in the treetops. It was strange for Rain to walk beside the centaur, as if except for his human torso, he were a horse that was leading her somewhere, instead of the other way around. Rain was about to break the silence and ask him where they were going, but he stopped moving. She looked ahead and gaped.

Before them was a high cliff. Far below, trees and undergrowth grew so thickly that she couldn’t see the ground, and the forest seemed to stretch on to the horizon. The city of Belmaeron overlooked the enormous forest. “Amazing,” she breathed.

“What you’re seeing is what we call the Hollow.”

“Wizard Rowena mentioned the Hollow. Is it not safe to travel anymore? It doesn’t appear much wilder than the forest up here.”

Aeraldor smiled at Rowena’s name. “So you’ve seen Rowena already? She’ll be glad to know you’re here.” Rain sensed that he’d quickly figured out who she was after they met, and that he’d decided didn’t need to be discussed. “Don’t let looks deceive you. The Hollow is large, perhaps taking up a third of the whole of Ellwood. We cannot view its center, the most magically sensitive part, from here. The entire area is surrounded by high cliffs, like you see here. There are only a few ways down into it, and not many people make the venture these days. The Soulblight has halted many things.”

“Rowena talked about that. Spirit magic?” she asked.

“I personally don’t know much about magic. In the early stages of the Soulblight, the afflicted comes down with a fever, but then it dissipates and they are left with a feeling of pessimism and depression. Soon thereafter, they stop talking and communicating altogether. Their bodies continue to live, but it is as if their spirits die. Sometimes, though, their eyes turn black and they whisper awful things.” Rain thought of the wolves, and Damien’s possession, but stayed silent. “The elemental wizards and witches have tried their best at healing the afflicted, but no cure has yet been found. We’ve had to train more guards to keep our city borders safe from potentially dangerous outsiders. Thus, what happened with Kalmin.” Looking out across the forest below them, a grin stole across his face. “We don’t see a lot of magic performed in Ellwood anymore.” He looked at her and said, “It was a good treat, what you showed the trainees. We have to remember we still have some magic on our side. It’s not completely hopeless.”

Rain nodded, not really sure what to say. She had only been selfishly trying to show off to the guards. “You seem to know a lot about all this. Will you be at the Council meeting?”

“Seeing you here, I’m not surprised they’re calling one. It’s about time. I’ll definitely be there. Wouldn’t miss it.”

Rain wondered why he’d bothered showing her the Hollow. It’s not like she was planning on traveling down there. Thoughts of traveling made her think of Pan, and decided she’d better pay him a visit. She was certainly curious what elven stables would be like.

“It’s been a pleasure meeting you, Aeraldor. I’ve never met a… sorry, but what are you, exactly?”

“Centaur. My race has been left out of the legends for purposes only our ancestors know, but we do have the tendency of being solitary, wanting little contact with others.” He sighed and looked at the dense forest below. “Current events have given us reason to ask for help, though. Many of my close friends and family have been hurt by the Soulblight. It’s partly why I’m here, other than the fact that centaurs are just as good, if not better than elves at archery,” He winked. “But don’t worry about us. We’re protecting ourselves with the help of the elves and their magic, and the larger problems will likely be brought up in the Council meeting.”

“I’ll see you then, Aeraldor,” she said, and gave a small bow this time, in farewell.

He looked at her with wise eyes and bowed in return, bending his front hoofed leg for added effect. “I will lead you back to the stairs, if you’d like.”

“Actually, I’d like to visit the stables. Would you just point me in that direction?”

“Certainly.”

The centaur walked her back to the training area and pointed down a side path, telling her to take her first left and continue until the end of the path. She thanked him and they went their separate ways.

***

Rain soon came to a large white barn, larger even than the stables at the Mourning Lady. Outside stood two elven guards. Almost too much protection, she thought, but remembered Damien. Maybe not enough.

Rain bowed awkwardly. “I’m Rain, I arrived with Wizard Deaglan. I’m here to see my horse. Just to check on him.”

“Enter, Sister,” the guards said, speaking and bowing in unison. Rain frowned, wondering if “sister” was some kind of hint at their shared elven heritage. The guards moved aside so that the doorway was clear.

Rain stepped forward and pushed open the doors, which swung inward. Inside, daylight filtered through high, open windows in the white wood, above the stalls. It didn’t even feel like wood to the touch, instead almost like stone, but lighter. It must have been the same material everything was made of here. Heartwood.

Movement in the stables startled her, and she quickly saw that she was not alone. Shea emerged from a stall, and waved to her.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, walking towards him. She peered over stalls as she went, looking for Pan.

“What, a man can’t care for his horse a little?”

Rain found Pan in the stall beside the one Shea had been in. His deep black stallion was munching happily on something.

“That’s not what I meant,” she said, opening Pan’s stall.

“Here.” Rain looked over and saw Shea was holding out an apple. “Ellwood apple, from our rooms. Horse treat.”

“Thanks.” She took the apple and entered the stall. Pan nodded his head, nuzzling her. She gave him a scratch on the nose, a pat on the neck, and held out the apple to him. He picked it up with his lips in one swift motion and started chewing.

The stall beside hers clicked, and she turned to see Shea leaning against the doorway to Pan’s stall. “To answer your question, Ahearn and I have been together for quite a while. It’s always odd to let someone else take care of him. I had to check on things.”

“Ahearn?” she asked, finding a brush hooked on the wall. She started brushing Pan even though the elves appeared to have already gotten rid of all of his stray hairs. An amazing feat.

“The big boy over there.” He pointed his thumb at the black stallion. “The Knights gave him to me a couple years ago, when I completed my training and started going on short missions.”

Rain couldn’t help the urge to brag. “I was there to witness Pan’s birth. He was mine as soon as he was old enough to ride.”

“Well, then.” Shea walked forward and gave Pan a pat. “He’s a good horse.”

“Certainly is.” She put the brush back. “The elves definitely know how to take care of their animals. I can’t find one loose hair.”

“I have to agree. For a race that doesn’t use horses as often as humans do, they know a lot about caring for them.”

Rain gave Pan one last pat and left the stall. Shea moved so she could lock the door behind her.

“Walk with me?” Rain asked, heading towards the front of the barn.

“Sure.”

The guards let them leave without a word.

“How’s your leg?” Rain asked as they walked down the main path.

“It’s great, actually. Whiskey took me to an elven healer, and in no time it felt like it was never bitten.”

Rain was silent for a moment, and decided to tell him about all that she found out. She told him about Rowena, the magic incident at the training area, and Aeraldor.

“You met a centaur?” Shea asked, incredulous. “I’ve only heard of them once, and only briefly. There’s next to nothing on them in the Libraries.”

“Yep,” she smiled. “It was incredible. Like a talking horse!”

Shea chuckled. “That’s probably considered a rude comment.”

Rain ignored him. “There’s a curse, Shea. They call it the Soulblight. There’s a stage in which people’s eyes turn black, and they whisper things. It reminded me of Damien, and the wolves.” She looked Shea in the eye. “What if it’s spread by animal bite?”

Shea shook his head. “I’m not sick. Besides, I was wearing the aegis. Doesn’t it protect against those things?”

“I guess so… but I thought it only protected against the fear spell.”

“There are more important things to worry about than my health,” he said, grinning.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Rain said, but wondered whether he was right to think her worry was about more than just the nature of the Soulblight. Her thoughts turned back to Aeraldor, and his sadness about Kalmin’s fate as a guard rather than a historian. “This feels like the absolute wrong time to be coming to ask for help from the elves,” she said.

“It sounds to me like Myrna and this curse are connected,” Shea said. “On the contrary, this is just the right time to be coming together to work things out. We fight a common enemy.”

“I guess you’re right,” she said. As they started up the staircase up to the city, Rain thought of Damien’s possession by Myrna, and shivered.

***

The next morning, the bright sunlight shone past leaves and branches and made the square pattern of the window on Rain’s bedspread. She slowly got out of bed, enjoying the luxurious feeling of not sleeping on the ground. The bed felt even more comfortable than the one she had back home. Home. She brushed the thought away, busying herself with getting dressed.

As she reached for her usual clothes, she saw some kind of white clothing, folded on the floor by the door. Someone must have left it for her while she was sleeping. Picking it up, she found it was a long-sleeved, white velvet dress. She tried it on, telling herself it was just to see if it fit. The fabric fit perfectly, the sleeves drooping elegantly at the elbow and the hem at the bottom just barely missing the ground. The neckline was low enough that the aegis she wore hung just above it. There was no hiding it in this dress. She considered it in the bathroom’s mirror. Her red hair stood out against the white of the dress.

She jumped at a knock at the door.

“Can I come in?”

It was Shea. Without time to change out of her dress, she hurriedly stowed her nightgown and made her bed. “Ah, yes,” she said, embarrassed he would see her in such a formal outfit, one that she was now very sure she wasn’t going to wear anywhere.

He stepped into the room. It was odd to see him out of traveling gear. He wore a clean white tunic tucked into dark breeches, his hair freshly washed. A faint smell of lavender drifted from him, and she realized it was probably the same bath soap they had provided in her own room. “I just wanted to tell you we’re going to—” He stopped when he finally saw what she was wearing. “You look amazing.”

She blushed and hated herself for putting on the dress. “I found it on my floor, I don’t know where it came from.”

“Whiskey put it there, I expect. He gave me the clothes I’m wearing. I came to tell you we’re going to the Council today.” He smiled. “It looks perfect on you.”

“The Council? Already?” She sighed. “Is this what he wants me to wear?” She looked up to consider his outfit. “You don’t look bad yourself.”

Before he could reply, Whiskey popped in the room from behind the open door. He was wearing regal dark purple robes. “The dress of a Sister,” he said. “It does fit you, as well it should.”

“A sister? The guards said that to me yesterday. What does it mean? That I’m an elf?”

“No, not just any elf, a Sister of the moon elves. It’s a title. That dress is worn by moon elves who have the power to wield innate magic. Its color is representative of the white energy. By right, you should be wearing it to show your rank at the Council.”

“Why is the Council meeting so soon?” she asked. “I thought you said it would take days to get everyone assembled.”

“Things happened more quickly than I expected. Many of the leaders are here already, because of the problems with the Soulblight. They were already planning a gathering of the Council gathering.”

Rain glanced at Shea. She could tell he was doing his best not to stare at her. She rolled her eyes. “Why do I have to ‘show my rank’? I barely know how to do anything with this magic.”

“Not everyone in this forest can live for hundreds of years. Many people don’t remember the moon elves. Some will not believe you exist. The dress will help us show that we are not just speculating. They all must know that you are a moon elf, and that you carry innate magic. That alone will help immensely if we want to find out exactly what happened to the moon elves. We haven’t gotten far, even with a hundred years of searching.”

“I guess that makes sense,” she said. Her stomach tightened and she worried what he expected her to do. Perform magic tricks in front of an audience? His lessons were difficult enough without people staring at her.

“I’ll go finish getting ready,” Shea finally said, and left to his room, leaving Whiskey still in her doorway.

Whiskey looked at her and smiled reassuringly. “You’re beautiful. Don’t worry about what people think about you. It matters that they know who you are.” He placed a hand on her shoulder and she smiled at the comforting gesture. “It will be alright. Finish getting ready, I expect they will be here to take us to the Council chambers very soon.”

***

When an elven messenger came and said it was time for the Council to begin, they left their rooms and followed him to the platform of the Council on the top level of the city. Walking up the steps, Rain felt her heart pounding with excitement and anxiety. She looked behind her to see Shea wearing a cloak she hadn’t seen him wear before. It was a green and gold Knight of Callaghan cloak with their insignia on the back: a lion behind a shield crossed with two swords.

“Whiskey,” she asked quietly, not wanting the messenger to overhear, “Why is Shea wearing a Knight of Callaghan cloak? Isn’t it better they don’t know who he really is, in case it upsets people?”

“We’re not here to hide who we are,” Whiskey said. “We have to show that we don’t have anything to hide. They’re going to have to accept that he’s a Knight, whether they like it or not. It’s not the time to be renewing old arguments. And when we’re in the chambers, call me Deaglan,” he winked.

She gave him a brief smile, but wondered what they were getting into.

When they made it to the platform, Rain immediately noticed a strange shimmery blur surrounding the table and chairs she’d seen the day before. She thought there were people in the chairs, but she couldn’t see or hear them.

“What’s going on?” Shea asked, and Rain was relieved she wasn’t the only one who noticed.

“You can’t hear or see anything because the Council platform is surrounded by a bubble of air that keeps the inside and outside separated. It was placed here with elemental magic, renewed with every Council session. They can’t hear or see us either. Security precaution.”

The messenger told them to wait for a moment, and walked toward the blur of people and chairs. It was like he stepped into a fog, because a moment later he was as blurry as everyone else around the table.

As they waited, she looked over Whiskey’s outfit. He had his salt-and-pepper hair combed back, and over his deep purple robes he wore a white stole embroidered in gold on both ends with a symbol of three interlocking circles. She thought she’d seen the symbol before but couldn’t quite remember where. It was strange to see him in such regal dress.

Whiskey had insisted that she wear her belt and dagger. It seemed to her that it would be rude to wear weapons to such a meeting, but Whiskey told her it wasn’t, that it was something everyone did. He told her she should always be prepared and able to defend herself, even here.

The messenger stepped out of the bubble of air and bowed to them. “You may enter.”

Link to the full-sized map

Link to Chapter 1 – Previous Chapter – Next Chapter

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As they traveled on the fourth day, the trees seemed to become thicker, like massive pillars holding up a roof of leaves. Gnarled branches reached into the sky far over their heads. The sun dappled the soft forest floor with speckles of light, and the air was alive with birds and insects.

Around noon, the pungent aroma of blacksmiths, cooking fires, and other city smells wafted around them. Rain sensed they were nearing a city, but couldn’t see any sign of one yet.

“Halt.” From behind a tree stepped an elf. He was tall, with cropped blonde hair and pointed ears. He wore light armor beneath a blue surcoat, which was embroidered in silver with a tree encircled by twisting knots. A thin sword was strapped to his belt.

He drew his sword and pointed it at Whiskey and his horse. Rain could tell the elf had skill with a blade, from the quickness of his movements. “Who are you, and why have you come here?” he said. He looked uncertainly at them, his eyes lingering on Rain’s ears.

“Is this what the elves have come to, outposts threatening visitors like we were common thieves?” Whiskey asked, clearly angered. “I am Wizard Deaglan,” he said, head held high, a stature Rain hadn’t ever seen him take on. It looked rather silly to her.

The elf stared at him, uncertain. “I haven’t heard that name.”

“Everyone on the Council knows who I am, I swear on the Goddess. Tell the king I’ve arrived with guests.”

The elf nodded reluctantly and sheathed his sword. He turned and ran down the path, out of sight.

“Ridiculous. I almost had to resort to performing magic just to prove I was a wizard.” Whiskey shook his head. “Something isn’t right here. They’ve never needed guards around the city. The forest itself should be protection enough.”

Shea peered into the forest around them. “Excuse me for seeming ignorant, but… where is the city? I don’t see a clearing in the trees anywhere near us.”

“Just up ahead. And they’re elves, Knight. Haven’t you read about them? They wouldn’t fell trees just to make room for a city.”

A short few minutes later, a different elf approached them. He wore simple but elegant robes of dark blue and on his long blonde hair sat a gold circlet, shining in the filtered sunlight.

“Deaglan?” he said, completely astonished. “It really is you!”

Whiskey jumped off his horse and clapped the elf on his shoulder in a hug. “Arthain, it’s so good to see you.” Whiskey pulled back and put his palms together, bowing to him.

Arthain returned the gesture. “I had to come see for myself that it was you, and welcome you back.” He looked at Shea and Rain. “Introduce me to your friends,” he smiled.

Shea dismounted and Rain followed him forward to stand beside Whiskey. “This is Shea, of the Knights of Callaghan.” At the mention of the Knights, Arthain frowned and seemed about to say something, but Whiskey continued. “And this is Rain, a Sister of the moon elves.”

Arthain’s eyes widened and he stared at Whiskey, then at Rain. “You mean…”

“This is her.” Whiskey smiled at Rain and she felt completely uncomfortable under Arthain’s stare.

“You’ve grown well,” Arthain said, taking in her features as if seeing if he could recognize some part of her.

“Rain and Shea, meet King Arthain of the elves of Ellwood.”

Now it was Rain’s turn to stare. Shea swiftly bowed like Whiskey had before, and Rain again followed what he did, unsure how to address an elven king.

Arthain nodded, accepting the bow. “What brings you to Ellwood?” he asked Whiskey. “Understand, I am glad to see you, but you must have a good reason for bringing her here, out of hiding. And for bringing a Knight of Callaghan here, of all people. These are hard times. The forest is not as safe as it once was.”

“All in good time, friend. I must speak with the Council. The Knight will not cause trouble, I give you my word. I have grave news from across the Fangs, but nothing I should discuss out in the open.”

“It’s been a few years, but I do trust you, Deaglan. Come, bring your horses.”

As they followed him on foot, leading the horses behind them, Whiskey and Arthain talked quietly but animatedly a few paces in front of Rain and Shea, just far enough so they couldn’t hear. They set a fast pace, but she was eager to see the city.

“They seem afraid of you, here,” Rain said to Shea.

“I can understand why. They probably think I’m here to keep them all from practicing magic. I’m not used to it, though. Knights are anything but feared back home. Some even think we’re heroes.” He shook his head. “But can you believe it? We’re going to see an elven city.” A look of giddy excitement stole across his face, and Rain couldn’t help smiling.

She gasped at her first view of the city. By now, the trees had grown considerably in size, and the giants they passed were as wide as or wider than the cottages back in Willshire. They came to a staircase, seeming to be a part of the tree itself, but the stairs were a dazzling white color, where the bark was an earthy dark brown. It spiraled around the trunk, finally reaching a platform high above them. The city, grown literally out of the trees, spanned above them in the treetops. She couldn’t see clearly though, since a large white platform obscured her view. On the ground, there were people and buildings in the distance. Some of the trees, strangely, had doors.

“You may leave your horses here,” Arthain said, gesturing to an elf that had been hidden on the other side of the tree trunk. “I have sent for people to take care of them for you, and they will be waiting for you whenever you decide to leave. It would be best if you took the saddlebags and other things with you.” Arthain waited for them to unpack, then started up the stairs and motioned for them to follow.

Rain gave Pan a parting hug, telling him silently that she would make sure to see him soon. She followed Whiskey and Shea up the staircase, at first afraid of the height, but soon comforted by the promise of a great city to explore.

When they reached the platform, Rain nearly giggled with childlike delight. The city was more incredible than she had imagined.

“Welcome to Belmaeron,” Arthain said.

***

Belmaeron was right out of a children’s storybook. Bright white platforms and stairs seemed to have grown out of the wood, and walkways or bridges spanned the distances between trees. Doors seemed to be carved right out of huge tree trunks. In some places, instead of doors there were elegantly carved open archways, leading to more bridges and platforms.

“Rain!” Shea called out a few trees away.

She realized they had gone on without her. She hurried to catch up, winding her way across bridges and platforms and tree branches. Matching her pace to theirs when she caught up, she looked around at the scenery once again.

It was simply stunning, and she couldn’t help but feel in awe at the beauty of it: the way the sun hit the white of the bridges and platforms, the delicate, intricate designs and inscriptions around spires, arches, and the doors to the rooms, the aged beauty of the giant trees, and all of it high in the air. She told herself not to look down.

After a few minutes of winding back and forth on bridges and up a few staircases, they approached a platform high above and larger than many of the rest. The arch they passed under seemed more intricate than any she’d seen yet, if that was possible. There were at least seven exquisitely carved empty chairs in a circle around a clean, also carved, round table in the center of the platform.

“The Seat of the Council,” Whiskey said. Rain remembered that he had said he was once part of the Council. She wondered what he thought about returning to this place, but his expression didn’t give away any inner thoughts.

They continued walking for a while until they reached a platform that ended in a tree trunk, and a door. She estimated the size of the room would be almost as big as the common room of the Oak Tree Inn.

“This is where you will stay until the Council is ready.” The king opened the door for them. “Someone will come to let you know. Meanwhile, feel free to explore the city.”

Rain’s eyes widened as she realized her estimation was completely wrong. Shea appeared to be just as surprised. Inside, it was much larger than she’d originally thought. She looked at the tree trunk and back inside the room, unable to understand how such a large space could fit. And it was no small trunk; that was certain. They were ushered into the room, and after a few parting words between Whiskey and the king, the king left and closed the door behind him.

Inside, three windows lit the large space, sending beams of sunlight across the furniture. A pitcher of water sat on the table in the center of the room, and next to it was a bowl of what she assumed were apples. She sat in the nearest chair and found it amazingly soft. Similar chairs circled the table, and beautiful artwork of strange, magical places hung on the walls. Between the paintings, three doors were spaced around the room, leading to what she guessed were bedrooms. Logically, it seemed like they would lead outside, but perhaps magically there was more space than she expected.

“Whiskey, I didn’t see windows on the outside,” Shea said as he stood in front of a window and peered out of it. “The space looked a lot smaller.”

“Magic, my boy. You’ll get used to it after a while.”

“The elemental magic you mentioned? The kind you have?”

“Yes, but much more powerful. This building and most of the others were made a long time ago. Very few elves can do work like this anymore,” he said. He sat down next to Rain, taking a large red apple-like fruit from the bowl. “Ellwood apples,” he said between bites, “are my favorite. They’re quite sweet and very crisp.” A trickle of juice ran down his chin. “I’ve missed them.”

Rain wanted to taste one as well, but she was eager to look around the city. Hunger was the last thing on her mind. “How long do we have to wait for the Council?” she asked.

“Perhaps a couple days, maybe more. They have to send messengers out to the faerie folk of Ellwood and to others beyond the forest. The Council may be held in Belmaeron, which is the elven capital, but the Council itself is composed of the different creatures that live north of the Fangs. I suppose it’s more like the capital of the lands north of the Fangs.”

“A couple days?” Shea sighed. “Do we have that kind of time? Perhaps the craetons in Willshire won’t move on to another city, but if Myrna is as powerful as you make her seem, how safe are any of us? We should take action as soon as possible.”

“We can’t do much without calling the Council together. I’ll do my best to speed things up, but it will still be a couple of days. You two can do as Arthain said—enjoy yourself while you can, and explore the city. You should be safe enough, if you’re prepared.”

Rain stood up, and out of curiosity opened one of the doors in the room. The bed, which sat next to a beautifully simple bureau, looked incredibly soft, and a lone window shone bright light on its lush green fabric. She looked forward to sleeping in a real bed more than anything. She dropped her things on the bedspread and felt a wave of sadness as she placed her broken bow next to her saddlebags. Shaking her head to forget the past, she checked that her dagger was still in place at her waist, and took off her cloak. Poking around the room, she found another door, and inside was a large bath. The dirt on her body screamed to be cleaned, but she was too curious about the city and decided the bath could wait. Using the small hand mirror left on the counter, she combed through her long red hair so it rested on one shoulder. She straightened her gray traveling dress, deciding it didn’t look as dirty as she thought it was. Leaving the room, she then opened the front door of the set of rooms, and after giving a farewell nod to Whiskey and Shea, she set off into the city.

***

She quickly found out the rooms they had been given to wait in were on the outskirts of the city, as there were few elves. The few she encountered were guards, who passed her with tight smiles and quick nods. She walked by the Council platform, and let her sense of direction guide her.

As she wandered, she noticed more staircases winding around the giant trees. Her eyes followed them quite a ways down and she saw that there was another level of the city below her, and it was much busier than this level. One flight of stairs down were more bridges and buildings, some of them with arches instead of doors, and far below was the lush ground of the forest, also built upon with domes and arches.

She approached and descended the staircase, smiling when she smelled a mix of the rich scent of the forest blended with cooking food. When she reached the level below their rooms, she stepped away from the staircase and wandered into an intriguing mix of sights, sounds, smells, and flavors. Tall, elegant elves minded shops and bakeries, and walked the long, wide main thoroughfare that wound around in a large circle. Trees were tightly clustered in this area, which allowed for support of the circular walkway. Both the inside and outside of the walkway were lined with buildings, some of them extending into the trunks of trees. She looked over a railing to the level underneath, the forest floor, and saw smitheries, tanneries, and training areas for guards. She made a mental note to find the archer’s practice area.

Taking a better look at the buildings and platforms around her, she quickly realized elves weren’t the only inhabitants of the city. An exceptionally short man, no more than two feet tall, a sharp goatee pointing his chin and a bald spot showing on the middle of his brown-haired head, smiled and nodded at her as he passed. She covered her mouth to hide her grin at his absurd height, and politely nodded in return. The word “gnome,” from the stories she read as a little girl, came to mind. She passed what she guessed was a tavern, for despite its sunny, open feeling she heard raucous laughter and the clinking of glasses. Peeking in, she saw more short men, these ones about four feet tall, some with long beards and all of them rather stout. Most of them held ale mugs in their hands and talked loudly among themselves. Many wore light leather or chainmail armor, and a few had thick swords or axes strapped to their backs and waists. Dwarves, she decided.

As she continued down the walkway, she heard high-pitched voices and giggling. Curious, she searched for the source of the sounds and found tall plant-like creatures, with either bright flower petals or deep green leaves for hair. They were mingling on a platform with bright white benches. Their skin was differing shades of green and brown, and the flower-haired ones wore exquisite, bright dresses trimmed with more flower petals. Somehow, the petals and leaves seemed to be part of them, growing out of them. A couple of them saw her staring and giggled, exclaiming a bright, “Hello!” in their singsong voices. She smiled back, not trusting her voice to be steady, and searched her memory for the names of these creatures. Images popped into her mind from one of the books she read as a child, the ones of flower faeries and dryads. She was speechless with amazement. She hurried on so she wouldn’t keep staring and feeling impolite, but couldn’t help stealing glances over her shoulder at their exquisite features.

A delicious scent wafted from up ahead, and she stopped in front of a particularly elegant-looking bakery. Stepping under the arch into the building, she met eyes with the shopkeeper, a tall, fair skinned female elf wearing a simple but beautiful white dress. Her pure white hair was in a loose bun at the back of her head. Rain was surprised to see the woman didn’t have elven ears.

“Hello,” she said kindly. “What would you like?”

Rain took a first look at the sweet, sticky pastries and fresh hot breads arrayed before her and her mouth watered.

“I—I’m not sure. Everything looks good.” Then she realized she had nothing to pay her with and started considering how she could politely decline.

“I’m partial to these,” the shopkeeper said, pointing to a round pastry filled with a light brown paste and sprinkled with shaved nuts. “Made with fresh almonds, honey, and the finest elven flour.”

Rain bent closer to the tray to smell them. “They look… too delicious for words. But, I’m afraid I don’t have any money to buy one with.” She nodded in thanks and made to leave the shop, but the elf stopped her.

“That’s quite alright,” she said, looking deep into Rain’s eyes and giving her the feeling she was looking straight into her mind, reading her thoughts. “That red hair… excuse me for asking, but where are you from?”

“Across the Fangs. Willshire.”

“Really? Difficult place to live as an elf. How did you keep hidden?”

“I… I didn’t realize I was an elf until recently.” Rain started feeling uncomfortable, sharing her life story with this person she’d just met. She didn’t want to lie, though. The woman seemed trustworthy.

A look of recognition crossed her face, and her eyes widened. “You’re not the moon elf?”

Rain nodded, unsure would happen.

“I can’t believe it.” She shook her head. “I apologize for seeming so impolite,” she smiled. “I met you when you were just a baby. Come, sit with me.” She motioned for Rain to follow her behind the counter and into a small room with a couple chairs and a small table. She placed one of the almond pastries on a dish. “What would you like? Tea? Perhaps a small glass of flower faerie wine? We have the best in all of Ellwood.”

“Tea is fine, thank you.” She sat in one of the chairs, finding it just as comfortable as the one back in her room. “Were you on the Council?”

The woman sat down across from her, placing the plate with the pastry and a steaming mug of tea in front of her. She nodded. “I was. Excuse me for not introducing myself. I am Rowena. I believe you know my very old friend Deaglan?”

“Deaglan…” Rain thought for a moment and remembered that was the name Whiskey said he had with the wizards. “Whiskey? You knew him?”

Rowena chuckled. “Is that what he’s going by these days? Yes. I’m a wizard as well.”

Rain remembered Whiskey mentioned another wizard was on the Council with him. “You’re the other one from the Circle of Wizards!”

“Yes,” she smiled. “He must have told you about me.”

“He just said there was another one of his kind there. He didn’t mention anything else.”

“He didn’t?” She shook her head. “Typical Deaglan. We were… together for a while. But we had a disagreement. He can be so stubborn sometimes. And then you came along, and he went away. I haven’t seen or heard from him in twenty years.”

Rain picked up her mug of tea, focusing on its warmth, and took a sip. “I only learned he was a wizard recently. My whole life, he was just a bartender. He taught me archery. He was like an uncle to me.”

Rowena looked into her eyes, and Rain averted them, instead taking a bite of her pastry. The delicious taste filled her mouth with nutty sweetness, and she savored the bite with closed eyes. “You are beautiful. I haven’t seen a moon elf in many, many years.” Rain opened her eyes, feeling her face get warm.

Rain shook her head. “I’m sorry. I’m not used to it yet. Do people here usually recognize a moon elf when they see one? Elves live for many years, so maybe others have seen ones like me before, too?”

“Not many, to be honest. The older ones, perhaps. It’s been a good hundred years, so no one your age will know unless they study the Histories. I bet it’s better than sticking out back home.”

Rain realized she was right. No one here thought she looked strange. She was just another elf. Plenty of people looked stranger than her. She nodded in agreement. “It’s good to meet another woman to talk to about this. Especially since…” she trailed off, unable to finish.

Rowena frowned. “Why are you here? I don’t mean to be rude. It’s incredible to meet you. The plan was, if you ended up with innate magic, you were to start learning about it when you’re about your age. But, you weren’t supposed to come all the way here, out of hiding. What happened?”

Rain gazed into her nearly empty teacup. “Myrna nearly found us. My parents are dead. My adopted parents,” she corrected, when Rowena looked confused.

“I’m so sorry. This all must be terribly difficult for you.”

Rain avoided going into detail. “They’re calling a Council meeting about it all. Will you be there?”

“Definitely.” She smiled. “You can come see me whenever you’d like, Rain.”

“Thank you. And thanks for the treat. This is delicious.” She took another bite of the pastry.

Rain continued to eat and sip her tea as they talked. Rowena answered her questions about the city, and in turn, Rain told her of her life back at home. Apparently, those people had indeed been gnomes, dwarves, flower faeries, and dryads. It seemed like everything from her storybooks had come to life. There were three main levels of the city, Rowena explained, plus the Council chambers on the fourth. The lower level was for forging armor and weapons; baking bread and preparing gathered berries, nuts and other food gathered from the forest; training elemental magicians and guards of the city; and many other things. The second level was for the shops and merchants, and the third was where the elves and travelers resided and slept. When asked why some shops had no doors, Rowena smiled and explained that some of them had hidden magical protection, but usually they didn’t need any. Stealing was almost nonexistent here. The guard training stations on the first level were new, because until now, they hadn’t needed guards to protect the city.

“Whiskey said the Demonmasters couldn’t come into the forest, and the city seems far enough away from the edge of Ellwood, even if its magical barriers are starting to fail. Why do you need guards?”

“They can’t enter, but their creations can. If a Demonmaster bewitches an animal, he can send it into the forest, up to a certain distance, and order it to do whatever he wishes,” Rowena replied. “Elves and other beings that do not live in Belmaeron, rather, near the edges of Ellwood, have reported attacks and a few killings by rabid wolves, bears, and other animals that are normally quite docile. When the problem began to grow, the elders of the Council decided to begin a guard system.” She looked to the floor sadly. “Times are difficult. There is a spirit magic curse going around, poisoning innocent wood dwellers’ minds, making them either sick or whispering to them to do horrid things. It’s what’s called the Soulblight. It has to be Myrna’s doing, probably through the Demonmasters. Our healers are overwhelmed with the number of wounded—physically and mentally. It is a hard time for the citizens of Ellwood. Not to mention in the Hollow.”

“What’s that?” Rain asked, tipping her cup back to finish off the tea.

“The Hollow, the center of Ellwood, has grown weaker as well. It feels and reflects everything that happens to the rest of Ellwood and has become just as wild and dangerous as the outskirts of the forest. It is not safe to venture there anymore, and we cannot collect heartwood like we could before.”

“I didn’t think elves used wood.”

“It is not chopped apart like what the humans do. And if we have to cut a tree, we plant two new ones. Heartwood is gifted from the Great Tree that lives in the Hollow. It is the strongest, lightest wood you’ll ever use. It makes great bows,” she said.

“Are you an archer, then?” Rain asked, intrigued.

“No, dear me, I’m a terrible shot. As a wizard, magic is more my style. If you’re interested, though, visit the guard target practice area and they might let you practice there, if you’re persuasive,” she winked. “I’m not sure if you could try a heartwood bow, though. Not many are left in these hard times. Much of the heartwood has become as diseased as the edges of Ellwood, and is no longer as strong as it was. But the older bows may still have their strength.”

Rain stared at her plate sprinkled with crumbs and the empty teacup in the momentary silence. “Thank you, Rowena, for your hospitality. I might come back to see you again.”

Rowena smiled. “I’d like to thank you. Business is slow these days, and life can get a bit tedious, even surrounded by all this beauty.” They both stood up and exchanged a bow, and then, thinking better of it, Rowena hugged her instead. Her warmth reminded Rain so much of her mother that tears sprung to her eyes. She smiled weakly when Rowena pulled away.

“Are you alright?” she asked.

“I’m fine,” she said, turning away and going through the doorway to the front of the store.

Standing before the counter was a gnome in a smart red vest. “Hello,” he said, nodding to Rowena and Rain. “I would like a hazelnut cheese roll, if you please. Oh, and one of these,” he said, pointing at a cream-colored scone covered in little red spots that looked like berries. “They look delicious!” He dug through his little shoulder bag and pulled out a small sack of coins.

“A raspberry scone, it is, then,” she smiled, and as the gnome reached up to exchange pastries for coins, Rain nodded and waved to her, stepping through the large doorway into the main thoroughfare.

 

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“I can’t believe it,” Shea said.

The three of them stopped their horses before the gate that led to the Pass of Hearn, over the Fangs. It was clearly made to keep things out, as it didn’t even appear to have a lock or a way to open. It was one solid piece of steel, different than the gates at the front of the city.

And it was blasted open.

“How does someone just open a gate like this?” the lieutenant continued, walking his horse slowly through the open gate, then turning around to look at it from the other side. “This wasn’t even made like a gate. One piece of the strongest, thickest steel, with no way to move it. It was made so nothing could open it. From either side.”

“Magic,” Whiskey said. “Very strong magic.”

“Why did they put it there in the first place?” Rain asked as they continued walking past the gate on a dirt path that was clearly seldom used. “Shea, you said something about protection from monsters?”

“All I know from my studies is that there were rumors of evil things on the move on the other side—this side—of the Fangs, because of the banishment. Now I know, it was the moon elves,” Shea said. “It wasn’t safe, and people needed protection.”

“So that’s the story the Knights made up, eh?” Whiskey chuckled. “I bet you’d appreciate a little history. The true kind. I found my way across the Fangs myself, even after that gate was made. With you,” he said to Rain. “Of course, I didn’t come through Highgate. I had to cross the Balbriggan Sea and sail to Eastcastle. At that time, it was near impossible to find a boatman willing to take the journey. People said that Sea was filled with demons, and storms were so frequent, no one ever returned.” He shook his head. “You have to understand, banishing a whole civilization to a different world doesn’t come without consequences. Myrna had done something no one had ever before tried, though people had written volumes about cross-world travel on a small scale. She released beings of all kinds, both dark and light, upon this world. That’s probably where the demons in the Balbriggan came from. There had to be an equal transfer of spirits between worlds.

“No, the real reason they created the gate-made-wall wasn’t just simple fear of evil beasts. It was a fear of magic itself. The human representatives at the Council found out about the devastation Myrna had wreaked, and decided they wanted to purge their world of magic. In their minds, getting rid of magic completely was better than risking the dark side of it. For the other beings in the Council, magic was their livelihood. Many beings were born with it, and couldn’t help it being a part of them. The humans decided to barricade themselves from the world of magic, and have since never been a part of the Council. Anyone seen doing magic in their lands was put to death. They decided getting rid of magic completely was better than risking the dark side of it.

“This was the real reason the Knights of Callaghan were created,” he said, looking at Shea. “They were the ones ‘protecting’ us from magic. They were the ones investigating strange happenings and putting magic-users to death.”

Shea frowned at Whiskey, but nodded. “I’m not surprised. We were taught that the first Knights were heroes, doing us a favor. Protecting us from harm.”

“They don’t teach you the full history, do they?” Whiskey shook his head. “Magic can be used to heal. To create. People who practiced that kind of magic were put to death just as often as those practicing blacker magic. And believe me, there were more people practicing good magic than bad. The ‘Great Darkness’ wasn’t just the coming of demons and dark creatures from other worlds. It was also the mass killing of magic-users. The humans’ loss of magic.”

Rain looked at Shea, going over in her head the things she’d heard people say about the Knights. One or two people had said they purged the world of magic. Not many said it, but she remembered hearing it. She realized Shea had to have been surrounded by people with opposing beliefs for years, and was amazed at his strength of will.

“I hope you can find it in yourself to trust me,” Shea said earnestly. “I know you have no reason to believe me. That I’m on your side. Except perhaps my aegis.”

Whiskey smiled at him. “No, boy, I have more reason to believe you. You know that Rain has magic. I understand the Knights better than you know. I’ve had to deal with them. If you were one of them, you would have let Rain be killed last night. Made it look like an accident. I believe you.”

Rain nodded at Shea, assuring him that she agreed with Whiskey.

“Thank you,” Shea said, grinning. “You have no idea how glad I am to hear it.”

“Now, about your aegis,” Whiskey said. “Your father must have taken it from a Council member, because only Council members have them. We all received them many years ago to help protect us from the threat of spirit magic. I don’t clearly remember if the human representatives received them as well. But I think the humans, the Knights, were in some denial about their protection. They thought a simple steel wall could hold the demons back. That not being a part of the Council would shield them from the threat. Perhaps, whatever way your father got the aegis, he wore it because he knew of Myrna.”

Shea was silent for a minute as they continued on the dirt path. “I appreciate you telling me what you know, anyway.”

“We’ll find out what really happened to your parents. Your years in silence won’t be for nothing,” Whiskey said, as sincerely as Rain had ever known him to be.

***

The land grew steadily steeper, and a sharp, bitterly cold wind began to blow around them. As they reached a higher elevation, snow began to fall around them, and the grass disappeared under inches of snow. Whiskey seemed to know the paths that kept them out of snow that was too deep.

When it came time to make camp, Whiskey found a spot of relatively dry land. While Shea took care of the horses, Whiskey pulled Rain aside.

“I think we’re safe from prying eyes here. Are you ready for a magic lesson?”

She wanted to, but her hands were shaking from the cold, and she couldn’t seem to find any warmth in her cloak. “Now? Can’t we make a fire first?”

“That’s the thing. It’s hard to find wood worth burning up here, and I have an idea. It might be a little advanced for you, but it’s worth a try.”

Rain nodded reluctantly.

They sat on the ground facing each other. “Close your eyes, it might be easier for you to concentrate,” Whiskey said. She did so. “Hold your hands face-up on your knees. Imagine the power of creation flows through you. You can create anything. Now, see a wooden log, like you’d use for a fire, in your hands. Feel the rough texture of the bark, smell the aroma of the wood.” They sat for a moment in silence, and Rain did her best at imagining what he’d said.

Her hands warmed, despite the chilly air. Suddenly, she did feel the rough texture of the bark in her hands, and she opened her eyes. A perfect replica of the log she imagined sat in her hands, which glowed orange.

She glanced over to where Shea was caring for the horses and noticed he was staring.

“Amazing job,” Whiskey said. “I didn’t think you would catch on so quickly.”

“How did I do it? Where does it come from?”

“It comes from you. There is a sort of energy-well inside you that is drained when you use magic. I don’t have a well—I use the other elements surrounding me as an energy source.”

She nodded. “I take it you want me to make enough for a fire?”

“Exactly.”

Over the next few minutes, Rain made a few more logs. It drained her quickly, leaving her feeling like she’d ridden a few more miles than she had.

“I feel so tired,” she said after her sixth log.

“You can stop,” Whiskey said. “Don’t strain yourself. The most important thing about magic is to know your limit—how deep your well is. Each shade of innate magic has its own limit. So far you’ve tried red in the forest back home, and orange here. If you go too far, you could pass out, and leave yourself vulnerable. There are ways to extend your limit artificially, but if you go too far with that, you could kill yourself.”

Rain let the orange energy drain from her and must have looked frightened, because Whiskey said, “Don’t worry. I know you’ll be able to stop yourself when you need to. And, the more you practice each color, the greater your limit.”

“Thanks,” she said, and reached over to hug him. “I know you meant well, keeping my magic from me. But I’m glad you can teach me to use it.” She pulled back and smiled. “It’s exciting. Something I can look forward to, when so much is going wrong.”

Whiskey put his hand on her shoulder, his familiar comforting gesture. “I’m honored to teach you. I think you’ll be a great student.”

They both stood up, and while Whiskey set about building the fire, she went over to the horses and rubbed Pan’s neck.

“That was amazing,” Shea said, finishing feeding the horses. “I didn’t know magic could do that.”

“I didn’t either,” Rain laughed. “If I can make a wooden log appear out of nowhere, imagine what else I could do…”

“I think I’ll soon be very glad we’re on the same side,” he smiled.

She glanced at the sword strapped to his hip. “You’re pretty deadly yourself with that sword, I’m sure.” She rubbed Pan’s snout and looked away. She wondered if there was any part of him that would be capable of hating magic. Whiskey had made it quite clear what the Knights of Callaghan were really after. “Why are you so set on protecting me?” she asked, thinking of how he’d acted during the wolf attack.

Their eyes met, and the greenness of his startled her. “I’m just used to it. I haven’t ever met a woman like you. They tend to be incapable of defending themselves, preferring to run instead of fight.”

“I’m sure they’re not all like that. But as you know, I’m no woman,” she said, chuckling, turning away from his strong gaze. “Is there even a word for ‘female elf’?” She shook her head. “I don’t know. A bow and arrow just feels so right in my hands. Like it’s meant to be there.”

“It’s probably a typical moon elf weapon,” Shea said. “You’re feeling your roots.”

“Yeah.” Their gaze met again, possibly for a little too long. “That magic drained me,” she said quickly. “I think Whiskey’s got the fire going by now. I should sleep.”

“I won’t keep you from it any longer. Go ahead. I’ll try to get a little shut-eye myself.” He turned to his black horse and fed him a small apple, rubbing his nose affectionately.

***

They traveled at a brisk pace the next day, sometimes on paths wide enough for them to ride side by side, sometimes on steep, narrow cliff faces where they could only ride single file. Snow fell occasionally, and Rain sometimes called a little red or orange energy to her to warm her hands. She felt like it was cheating, but reassured herself that it was in fact necessary to expand her abilities.

As the sun was setting and Rain felt like her legs were going numb from riding so much, the land sloped downward and she knew they were finally nearing the edge of the pass. The mountains of the Fangs were so large; she wasn’t surprised it would take them nearly three days to ride the length of the pass. They spent another night around a fire made of logs Rain created.

The next day they were out of the pass by midday, traveling on a road through low hills and expanses of grass. It was unusual for Rain to see this much land unused by people. A river ran near the road, and once or twice they crossed a small wooden bridge. That night and the next day, they kept their fires low, since it was easy to see a far distance on these plains.

Every night, Whiskey would give her a short magic lesson. They would use red or orange, using strength or creating things. When they didn’t need much wood for a fire, she would try similar things, like kindling or hay as a treat for the horses. It was difficult to imagine things exactly right, and sometimes it took a few tries. Every day she felt she could do a little more.

Finally they could see the edges of a great forest. It was nearing nightfall. Soon they began to walk among the trees; great aged monoliths much older than any tree Rain had seen back home.

“Welcome to Ellwood, home to the elves, among other peoples, and the Council.” Whiskey stopped his horse and led them away from the path into a clearing. “This is as good a place as we’ll find here to stop.”

Rain couldn’t believe she was soon about to meet a race of people she’d only read about in books. People who could use the earth’s elements to their advantage. “What exactly is our plan? Where are we headed in Ellwood?”

“The plan is to call on the Council to see what they know about Myrna and the moon elves, and then go from there,” Whiskey said. “We will not have time to linger in the city for very long, or anywhere else along the way.” He started unpacking the food from the saddlebags.

The rest of the evening was uneventful and strangely quiet. The trees of Ellwood seemed to be of one entity, though Rain couldn’t place how she knew. They loomed above them like giants, listening to their every word. The sounds of the forest filled their ears and they were lost in them and in their thoughts, resting their tired limbs.

***

A single torch attached to the wall shone in the darkness. The stale, dusty smell of the dark stone corridor filled Rain’s senses. She gingerly touched the wall and a layer of dust stuck to her finger. The darkness before her seemed to swallow the small torch light like the mouth of a demon. She glanced behind her and saw the corridor continued on, similarly smothered in darkness. Fear inched its way through her body, sending a shudder through her bones. Slight warmth just below her neck soothed her, and she grasped the aegis for comfort. The darkness seemed to become colder in response, and chills ran up and down her body. She picked up the torch from its holder in the wall. Sudden images of evil spirits and monsters that could be hiding behind her urged her forward into the corridor.

As she walked, her traveling boots disturbed the thin layer of dirt and dust that covered the floor. She jumped when another torch burst into flame on the wall. She was sure the torch she held hadn’t touched the one on the wall. Thinking it might continue down the hall, she put the first torch back and continued on. Sure enough, one after the other, torches burst to life along the wall.

After a short time, she walked past the torch in front of her and expected another one to flare up, but her boots began to echo. She had the strange sensation that she was walking into a cavern. She gasped as the torches along the walls of the room lit up one after another. The corridor had led her into an immense room, the ceiling’s height barely discernible despite the sudden brightness. Columns lined the cavernous space, and the walls to her left and right were covered with intricate paintings, showing paradises and hellish places alike. She stepped closer to the wall on her right to see a depiction of vast rolling hills of green grass and sunlight. It somehow reminded her of home. Beneath it was a similar landscape, but the grass was grayish brown and dark clouds filled the sky. Knobbed white things poked out of the ground. Bones? Despite her tendency to curiosity, she didn’t want to know. The sheer number of the small paintings filled her with a strange mixture of awe and fear. She followed the wall, seeing lush forests and hot deserts, jagged cliffs and dark, barren seas. Somehow she knew none of the pictures were depictions of places on earth. Something was different about them.

When she reached the end of the room, she looked behind her and was struck with the vastness of the place. The paintings continued up the wall until they were swallowed by the blackness above, the ceiling hidden. Turning back around to the wall that faced her, the drawings seemed to change. In front of her, they faded into a solid dark brown and materialized into a door. It was twice her height and at least four times her width, the top of it arching. There was a torch lit just above the top of the door, spilling light over intricate designs of vines and leaves along the doorframe.

She heard a whisper in the room. Whipping around, she looked for the source of the sound. There was only the flickering of torchlight, continuing on past the room into the corridor beyond.

The whispering continued. At first, she couldn’t understand the voice, but it soon was loud enough to hear clearly. “Open,” it said. Others joined it, until the room was filled with the eerie whispers of unseen voices. “Open, open the door.”

Her hands shook as she searched the door before her for a handle, not just on impulse to do what the voices were saying, but to get away from them. The darker, more sinister places on the walls ran through her head. What was behind the door?

She suddenly realized there was no handle. How was she to go in? Scared of the unseen voices and of what lay ahead, she gripped the aegis tighter in her left hand. Somehow, its soothing touch wasn’t working. She took a deep breath, trying to calm down. If she needed a handle, she’d make one. In her mind, she imagined the door with a handle. Her right hand was still placed on the door, and it began to tingle and grow warm.

Orange light licked her fingers and slid off her palm, touching the wood under her hand. A piece of metal materialized from the light, and in no time her hand was grasping a carved golden handle in the shape of a key, as long as her hand from the bottom of her palm to the tip of her fingers. She’d only imagined a simple wooden handle. All around her, the voices grew louder, urging her to pull the handle and open the door.

She began to pull. Her breaths were ragged and shaky, her arms and legs weak, her whole body suddenly a combination of exhaustion and anxiousness. Creating the handle had taken more out of her than she realized.

Finally the door opened silently, revealing what seemed to be a black screen of nothingness, no part of it illuminated by the bright torchlight around her. It seemed to suck in the light like a sponge. The torches dimmed. She stepped back, suddenly more afraid of the blackness than the voices around her. They began talking in foreign tongues, and though she was unable to understand exactly what they said, they seemed to whisper of dark things, sinister whispers and frightened screeches. She continued slowly walking backwards, leaving the door ajar, afraid the nothingness in front of her would soak her in like the light of the torches.

Two red pinpricks of light appeared in the doorway, and the blackness grew arms and fingers. A shadow emerged from the nothingness, its own whispers drowning out the other voices in the room. A dreamwalker. “Join me,” it said, “come with me into the dark. Disappear, vanish, sink into eternal sleep.”

Her will seemed to be zapped from her, the dreamwalker absorbing her energy. Fear leaked in to replace it, her aegis not protecting her. She couldn’t move. Her eyelids drooped, and she felt exhausted. A part of her mind felt that eternal sleep would not be such a bad idea.

“Rain! Wake up!” The sound of the voice brought her to her senses. As she came out of her cocoon of exhaustion and numbness, she realized she knew who it was. It drew her out of the fear, out of the dark.

She opened her eyes. Her blanket had once again wrapped and twisted around her from tossing and turning in her sleep. Her breaths came in ragged gasps and her face was wet with sweat and tears, though she didn’t distinctly remember crying. Whiskey and Shea kneeled next to her.

“Rain! You’re alright!” It was Shea’s voice that had brought her out of the dream. The lieutenant seemed about to embrace her, but instead took her hand and smiled.

“It almost had me,” she whispered. Her throat felt sore and her voice cracked. Her sleep seemed to have done nothing to get rid of the heavy tired feeling in her limbs.

“I couldn’t wake you,” Whiskey said. “Your forehead was burning up…” For a moment he seemed lost in thought. “The good thing is that you’re awake.”

“There was another dreamwalker,” she said.

Whiskey exchanged glances with Shea. “What was the dream about? Did anything happen that would have come through to reality?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think so. There was this hallway, and a chamber… I don’t think it could exist, though. I opened a door with my magic and the dreamwalker came out from behind it, urging me into ‘eternal sleep.’”

“You used your magic?” Whiskey said, frowning.

“Orange. I created a handle, but it didn’t end up exactly how I imagined it.”

“Rain, you have to be careful. If the dreamwalker was able to manipulate your magic, imagine what it could make you do. Maybe… I think you should stop using it for a while.”

“Stop using it?” Rain asked, exasperated. “We don’t even know if creating that door handle was a threat to anyone. I find out I have power I need to learn to use, and then I’m supposed to just stop using it? You said it yourself. It’s a part of me. Isn’t it just as dangerous if it happens when I don’t mean it to? If I learn enough, I can have more command of it, especially if it’s ever used by the dreamwalker again.”

“I agree,” Shea said, looking at Whiskey. “I know the dangers of magic all too well, but it seems like it would be better for her to know as much as possible about what she’s capable of.”

“I suppose,” Whiskey said. Rain knew he wasn’t convinced. “It’s strange though, you should be protected against dreams like that by this forest, even though we’re so close to the edge of the trees. There are barriers against spirit magic, put up after the havoc wreaked during the Great Darkness. It’s safer to practice your innate magic here. We shouldn’t have to worry about Damien or the ravens following us. But the barriers must be getting weaker somehow. It’s not a good sign.”

***

It took them nearly four days to reach the city of Belmaeron. The vast forest spread for miles and miles, sometimes making their progress slow. Each night, Whiskey helped Rain a little more with her magic, but she could tell he was holding back. He didn’t teach her anything new. She expected that there were more levels to the magic, but Whiskey didn’t tell her about them.

The third night after her dream about the door, she had just finished creating the logs for a fire and had started practicing creating a spark. After a few minutes of concentrating with her hands held over the logs, she felt heat and saw the fire had started.

“Very good!” Whiskey said.

She let the magic drain from her hands. Hoping he’d be in a talkative mood, she asked, “Why don’t you teach me more new things? Not just new things to materialize or different ways to use magical strength. You talked about ‘shades’ of magic before. There’s red and orange. Does that mean there are yellow and green, other colors?”

“Yes.” He paused, seeming to consider how to answer.

“Please, teach me? I have a right to know.”

“Whatever I teach you is reachable by Myrna, the next time they try to take over your mind.”

“And your mind is more protected? I’m the one with the aegis.”

He sighed. “The aegis won’t protect you from it, but you’re right, it’s better for you to know a little more.” He took a stray stick from beside him and started drawing a design in the dirt. It was a circle surrounded by six other circles, the six having lines connecting them to the middle circle, like a web. “This is the symbol of innate magic. Each circle has a different color, frequency, shade, whatever you want to call it. Red, orange, yellow, green, blue, purple. The center is white, symbolizing all colors. It’s an energy you can call on as well, but only once you’ve mastered the others. It’s difficult to master them all. It takes a lot of time. Many moon elves choose to specialize in certain colors, and stick to them.”

“Red for strength, orange for creation,” Rain said. “What do the others do?”

“That’s enough to have an overview of the magic. The rest I’ll save for another time.”

Rain smiled and sighed, knowing she wouldn’t get any more out of him tonight. “Alright, Whiskey. But you know I’ll find out eventually.”

Just then, Shea came back from taking care of the horses, a job he started to take on as his own. He knew how important it was to Rain to learn about her magic, and was happy to let them be. Rain wondered though, that if part of him feared her magic.

“How goes the lesson?”

“Finished,” Rain said. Whiskey was smoothing over the dirt he had drawn on, covering up the design.

“If you don’t mind me asking, Whiskey” Shea said, “and don’t take this the wrong way, but who are you, really? You can use magic and know a lot about it, yet you’re human. Or you seem that way, anyway. But you speak as if you were around during the Great Darkness, so you have to be at least a hundred years old.” He sounded like a scholar in search of knowledge rather than someone prying into business that wasn’t theirs. “And you seem to know much more than the Knights about supernatural things.”

“Don’t be fooled, I’m sure some of the Knights know more than they let on. Your superiors probably know more than you can imagine. I suppose, Rain, you also deserve to know who I am. I’ve kept enough from you already.” He was quiet for a minute, the fire sparking as it caught on another log. “I was one of a group of humans, and we called ourselves the Circle of Wizards. We started out as scholars who wanted to study elemental magic more in-depth, but north of the Fangs, where much more was known about it. We went to the elves to learn from them directly. The use of it changed us, giving us longer lives, for example. I was on the Council, as I said before, along with one other of my kind. We were our representatives, and the most knowledgeable of our people. I was chosen as the best one to take care of Rain and had to leave my people behind. I haven’t had contact with them for twenty years. I was told to name you myself and raise you in a place no one knew about. We wanted as few people as possible to know of your existence, to keep you alive.”

“To keep me away from Myrna? What exactly would she want from me?” Rain asked.

“I don’t exactly know. She could want to harness your power somehow, or just want you dead.”

Rain’s mind was spinning, thinking of all the years she didn’t know who he was. She had never really thought to ask. “Whiskey is what I’ve called you since I was young, but it’s just a nickname, isn’t it.”

He chuckled. “It’s just my favorite drink. In the Circle, I was Wizard Deaglan.”

“Who’d have thought it? Whiskey as a wizard,” Rain said, smiling.

“I’m still your old favorite bartender,” he winked. “Don’t forget that.”

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It took them the better part of the next day to arrive at Highgate. The tall gates of the mountain pass city stood across a clearing. The city was beyond, and on the far side of the city was another pair of gates before the Pass of Hearn. They towered even higher, sealing the way through the pass. The Fangs of Grunae loomed above them, their jagged peaks stabbing the sky. Dark gray clouds rolled in from across the mountains, their edges stained the rusty orange of a bright sunset.

A strange silence filled the air. Rain felt she had to speak or she’d be swallowed in it. “Awfully quiet,” she managed, whispering.

Shea stopped his horse and pointed at the top of the gate. Rain stopped her horse next to his, and Whiskey on his other side. “The fire’s not lit.” He looked at Whiskey, wide-eyed. “It’s always lit.”

“Something’s not right,” Whiskey mumbled. “Follow me quietly, slowly. Keep your eyes open, and don’t speak unless you need to.”

He led them along the path to the main gates. The sun finished its dip below the horizon, sending fiery hues into the sky. The sharp, cold wind blew through Rain’s cloak and settled in her bones. She pulled her cloak closer around her, but kept a hand on the bow hung over her shoulder. Fearing the worst, she wanted to be prepared.

They stopped in front of the iron gate, and Whiskey peered up to where the operator should have been. Nobody was there.

“What now?” Rain whispered, seeing her breath fog in the cold air.

Whiskey dismounted. He stood before the gate and placed both hands upon the great doors. He muttered something and a huge gust of wind blew around behind the gate, unlatching it. Whiskey pushed the gate open.

“Was that innate magic?” Rain asked at the same time Shea said, “How did you do that?”

“Elemental. Hush.”

They rode slowly through the gate. There were no sounds of kids playing, no scent of food cooking, no fires billowing smoke out of chimneys. There were no people.

Shea’s face had gone white. “I can’t believe it.”

In the dim light, they came to the first house on the main road, and Shea dismounted. The door had markings on it, three thick vertical lines in a row, stained a dark reddish brown. He fingered them, she saw, with shaky hands.

“Craetons,” he murmured.

He set a determined look on his face and opened the door, taking a look around. He closed it quickly, shaking his head. “It’s Brygern all over again.”

“Where are the people?” Rain asked. She looked around the street and glimpsed a few places where a charred hole had been burnt through a roof or a wall.

“They must have been taken somewhere,” Shea said. “I can’t think of anything else that could have happened to not leave a mess.” He pointed to the marks on the door. “I’m pretty sure these show the number of people who lived in the house. Whiskey, you know more about magic than I do. Is there some reason Myrna might want people?”

“I’m not entirely sure. There could be, but I didn’t study spirit magic as thoroughly as Myrna. I only learned what I did so I could protect myself and Rain.”

“I need to go to my captain’s house, to see if anything’s left. Maybe he had some idea of what this attack was about.” He mounted his horse and hurried off down the street.

“I’ll go with you,” Rain called after him, but he was too far ahead. She looked back at Whiskey. He nodded, letting her go. It would be better to keep an eye on
Shea, especially if the captain was somehow still in the city.

“I need to look around a little. Meet up with you later,” Whiskey said.

She kicked Pan into a quick trot, glimpsing Shea at the end of the street in front of her. They wound through the empty streets, speeding past ruined houses with blood marks on the doors. Despite the clear lightning strike patterns, none of the buildings were burnt down. She could barely look around her, only able to imagine how Willshire must look by now.

Finally Shea slowed down in what seemed like a town square. Rain called out and he glanced behind him, but didn’t stop, walking down a side street. A few minutes later, they stood before a house that seemed like any other.

Rain dismounted and walked to his side. “What is this place?”

“Captain Marthus’ house. We always met in taverns, but he told me where he lived, in case anything went wrong.” He stood staring at the three lines of blood above the insignia on the front door. Rain didn’t speak, afraid to upset him. Finally, he spoke again. “Captain Marthus. His wife. His son. Maybe they had wrong beliefs, but they were good people.” He kicked the door and it slammed open, going askew in its frame.

The room was as destroyed as any other place they’d seen. Glass shards from windows were scattered across the floor. Papers and books lay strewn all over. Gas lamps, chairs, and a large table in one corner of the room were all smashed or broken.

Shea started gathering the papers on the floor, looking through them. Rain stood awkwardly waiting, not sure if she should be leafing through Knights’ papers.

“There’s nothing here,” Shea said, dropping the pile of papers on the ruins of the table. “Nothing about an attack, or craetons, or anything. And no sign of where they might have gone.”

Shea walked to a back room, this time opening the door carefully. Rain glimpsed remnants of a large bed, table, and chair. Shea went inside and bent down, picking up something from the ground.

“His cloak pin.” He turned around so she could see it. A gold lion.

“We don’t know that he’s dead, Shea.”

He looked up and she could see the tears in his eyes, ready to fall. He cleared his throat, holding them back. “I can’t take this. What’s happened to all these people? Maybe Captain Marthus and his men killed my parents, but what about the rest of the people in this city? In Brygern? In Willshire? I’m sure now that this can’t be the work of the Knights. It’s got to be that Myrna that Whiskey talks about.” He shook his head. “Someone’s got to stop this.”

Rain realized that Shea hadn’t yet witnessed the full power of a Wingmaster, or the gripping fear of a spirit magic spell. “Just wait. Soon enough, you’ll be glad you own that aegis.”

Shea gave her a grave look. “Do you know what it does?”

Rain couldn’t see any point in not telling him, especially now, when his superiors were missing. He couldn’t expose Whiskey or herself to anyone very easily. “All I know is that it protects against a certain fear spell, based in spirit magic. I think it’s a favorite of Myrna’s. It saved our lives in Willshire, and again in the woods last night. You’ll have to ask Whiskey about where it might have come from.”

Shea nodded. “Thank you. You have no idea how good it feels to be with people who believe in the good of magic again. I was beginning to doubt myself, and my mother’s beliefs.”

For a person from the city, he wasn’t half bad. “I don’t know much about magic yet,” Rain said, “but from what I do know, your mother shouldn’t have been killed for what she did.”

“Thank you.” He smiled.

“Let’s go,” she said, motioning toward the front door. “I don’t want to keep Whiskey wondering where we are.” Shea held the cloak pin firmly in his hand and followed her outside.

They walked silently toward the horses, and Rain led them out of the side street into the darkening town square.

“Whiskey!” Rain yelled, looking around for any sign of movement.

Immediately, she knew her loud voice had been a mistake. A deep growl seemed to come from the buildings around the square, one voice and many all at once.

“Get behind me!” Shea whispered to Rain as he unsheathed his sword with a ring of metal.

“No,” she said. She didn’t want to hide this time. She wanted to prove to him that she could have defended herself against the craeton outside Fairfield.

Around them in the near darkness, shapes crept out from the shadows, the moon illuminating fur and fangs. Wolves. They were much larger than the wolves in the forests around Willshire, with black fur and all-black eyes that seemed to suck in light rather than reflect it. They were strangely similar to how Damien’s eyes looked when Myrna was speaking through him. The aegis warmed her skin, and she wondered if it was countering any spirit magic fear spells. With a shaky hand she drew an arrow from her quiver and nocked it.

“I’ve never seen wolves attack humans like this,” Shea said under his breath. Still a fair distance away, at least ten wolves had emerged from behind the buildings and were slowly approaching, deep growls still sounding from their throats. Their teeth glistened in the moonlight.

“If I shoot, will they all rush at us?”

Shea looked at her and whispered, “I can handle it. I’ve been trained to fight. You haven’t! If you shoot, they might attack you instead. Don’t shoot.”

“At all? There are at least ten of them! You can’t take them all at once.”

If she was going to be any help to him at all, whether he wanted her to or not, she decided she had to shoot. If they rushed them and got too close, she’d have to use her dagger, and she wasn’t trained to use it. She drew the string back, focusing on a wolf still a reasonable distance away in the town square. Shutting out her thoughts, there was only her arrow and the wolf. There was no distance between her and her target, as if she could reach out and touch it.

A second before she was going to release the arrow, the nearest wolf snarled and bolted for Shea. Rain’s concentration faltered, but she switched her target to the attacking wolf as the other wolves began to run towards them. She let the arrow fly. It pierced her target, the wolf letting out an agonizing howl. The animal fell onto the stone paved street. It whimpered in pain and went limp.

“Rain! I told you not to shoot!” Shea said, but she ignored him, nocking another arrow.

The wolves were all running towards them now. She shot another, but the closest one was too close. It leaped at Shea and he whirled his blade like a trained swordsman, slaying it in one swift motion. He stepped in front of her, protecting her from the nearest animals, but restricting her range to shoot.

From behind Shea, she focused, picking a target far off. The arrow flew true once again, when she felt the distance between her and the animal was nonexistent.

A sudden burst of fire came from across the town square and the howls of wolves in pain reverberated in the night. Rain and Shea were both surprised. Two wolves had reached Shea at once, and he concentrated on grappling with one as the other bit his leg. He cried out in pain and Rain worried that he had been seriously wounded. In no time both animals fell at his feet and he continued slaying the beasts that came at him.

Another blast of fire came from the other side of the square, making the wolves howl, and Rain squinted in the darkness to try and see what was causing it. In her distraction, she suddenly found herself on the ground, a wolf towering over her. She tried to shield herself with her bow and the wolf grabbed it with its teeth. Using all her strength without drawing on her magic, she tried to keep the wolf’s claws away from her, but the bow broke in two.

In a blind panic she tried to draw her dagger, and the wolf nearly had her at the throat, but it fell on her instead, forcing the air out of her lungs. She felt warm liquid ooze over her clothing, but knew it wasn’t her own blood.

Shea stood over her and lifted the animal off, then helped her to her feet. “Thank you,” she said, and realized the wolves had stopped coming. The streets were eerily quiet, and Shea turned his back to her again, sword still at the ready.

A figure strode across the square with another larger shape behind it. When it was close enough, she realized who it was.

“Whiskey?” she said, incredulous. “Was that your fire?”

“Just a bit of elemental trickery,” he said, stopping in front of them, eyeing the dead wolves. “You’re pretty good with that bow, yourself.”

“Thanks. But it broke in half,” she said, showing him the pieces.

“We’ll find you a new one, not to worry.”

Shea shook his head. “She could have gotten seriously injured. If I hadn’t saved her just then—”

“You look pretty injured yourself,” Whiskey said.

Shea moved his leg slightly and grimaced. “I’m alright,” he said through gritted teeth. “Just some cuts.” He whistled loudly, and his dark horse came around the corner of a building. Pan followed. They didn’t seem to be injured, only frightened. Shea tried to walk to his horse and groaned in pain.

“Slow down there, lieutenant. Let’s get you bandaged up.” Whiskey shuffled through the saddlebags to find first aid items, and set about dressing Shea’s leg wound. Rain winced in sympathy as Whiskey applied the poultice.

When he was done, he helped Shea on his horse so he wouldn’t have to use his left leg. He checked with Rain that she hadn’t been hurt, and then the three of them set off down the road at a fast walk, leaving the bloody animal carcasses where they were.

“Why did they attack us?” Rain asked as they passed through street after street of broken, blood-marked houses. “Their eyes seemed just like the Wingmaster’s, or Damien’s.”

“Did they? I didn’t get a good look at the eyes. If you’re right, I would have been paralyzed if I’d seen them. Damien probably used his Demonmaster powers to make them attack.” He looked over at Shea, who was rather quiet. “Lucky you had your aegis, eh boy?”

“I didn’t feel any sort of fear spell…”

“Exactly,” Whiskey said. “You weren’t unnaturally afraid. You just felt any normal amount you would feel in that situation. The aegis shields it completely. You did see the eyes though, right?”

“Yeah, eerie. What do you mean, ‘normal amount’? A Knight can withstand more than a few rabid wolves before being scared.” He grinned, looking at Rain.

She rolled her eyes, amazed he could be so lighthearted after a battle like that. “What are you going to do now? Do you have to go back to Eastcastle?”

He shook his head. “These past few days I’ve finally seen proof that everything I learned from my mother was true, and found clues about what my father might have gotten into before he died. I’m prepared to leave the Knights, at this point.”

“You can’t just leave the Knights,” Whiskey said. “They’ll kill you.”

“I know. But, I can also continue investigating what happened, which is probably what the general would want me to do anyway. I’ll come back before too long, and explain my long absence as a deep investigation. Which is what it is. I’m coming with you over the Fangs.”

Rain gave him a brief smile, not sure whether she enjoyed the thought of him coming with them or not.

Whiskey nodded. “As long as you know what you’re getting into. We’re not going to start crossing the pass tonight. It’s treacherous terrain, even in the daylight. We should find a safe place to stay till morning.”

“I met with the Knights quite frequently at the White Ram,” Shea said. “They have decent beds. We could see if there are a few of them intact.”

“Sounds good. Rain, could you get a torch ready? Almost all the lights have burnt out here. It’s clearly been abandoned for at least a few days.”

“Couldn’t you just use your magic?” she asked him as she started shuffling through her saddlebags.

Whiskey shook his head. “It takes much more energy to keep a flame going with magic than to just create the spark to start the fire. You don’t want to waste your energy—you never know when you might need it. Your first magic lesson,” he smiled.

“Why did you use magic back there in the first place?” Rain asked as she let the rags on a wooden dowel soak in oil. “I thought we were trying not to be followed.”

“You two needed help and I needed some practice. I haven’t used my magic to fight like that in years. Besides, they’re looking for you. The only one with innate magic. There are more elves and others who still use elemental magic—in hiding—than you’d think, on this side of the Fangs.”

***

After leaving their horses in the White Ram’s stable, Whiskey opened the front door. Rain tried to ignore the lines of blood on the door. Shea held the torch out and walked in first. The room was smashed to bits like any other place, but it was also lightning-strike free. Rain kept up hope that she could sleep in a real bed another night before braving the long road ahead.

Whiskey went behind the bar and looked around a minute, then pulled out two oil lamps. “I wasn’t sure I’d find these in one piece, but let’s make use of them and not burn the place down with a torch.”

“Good plan,” Shea said, putting out the torch while Whiskey lit the lamp.

They foraged a little in the kitchen for food, finding most things either smashed open or gone bad. Even so, Rain found enough food to make a good stew, remembering a recipe her mother had taught her, and made the men wait outside the kitchen.

Soon, she brought out three steaming bowls and set them on the table in the common room where Shea and Whiskey were talking.

“Here we are. One of my mother’s many famous recipes.”

Whiskey took a sip. “Well done. One of my favorites.”

“This is amazing,” Shea said between mouthfuls, and grinned at her.

Rain smiled briefly and then set about eating her own bowl of stew. For a while, the sound of spoons against bowls was the only thing filling the silence.

“I don’t know about you two,” Whiskey said when he finished eating, “But I’m beat. I’m rather out of practice when it comes to magic, and I tire a little more easily. I’m going to look around upstairs for a bed.” He stood up and left his bowl on the bar, then picked up an oil lamp.

“Goodnight, Whiskey,” Rain said as he went upstairs. She lifted her bowl a little to get the last bit of broth.

“I’m tired as well,” Shea said and stood up, leaving his bowl on the table and taking the other oil lamp. “You look finished, want to go scout for a couple of nice beds?”

“Gladly,” she said. She left her own bowl on the table and followed Shea up the stairs. He was limping slightly from the wolf bite.

The light from Whiskey’s lamp came through the cracks in the doorframe from the last room on the left. Shea looked in the rooms on the left side and Rain looked on the right, but every room was a disaster. Finally they came to the last room, across the hall from Whiskey’s. It was a bigger room, with a large bed, fit for two people. The room was untouched except for a broken chair.

“Pretty good, considering,” Shea said, putting the oil lamp on the small table. “I’ll take the floor.” He took one of the two pillows off the bed and a blanket folded on the end of the bed, and started setting them up on the other side of the room.

“I wouldn’t want to take the bed from you. I don’t know when we’ll next be able to use real beds, and you’ve traveled a lot more than I have, probably sleeping outdoors…”

“I’m used to it. You’re not. Don’t worry about it.” He swiftly took off his light armor and boots, leaving on his shirt and pants.

Rain sat on the edge of the bed, taking off her own shoes. She looked over at Shea and saw he was checking his leg wound.

“How is it doing?” she asked.

“Painful, but manageable,” he said.

She frowned in sympathy and sat up against the pillow on the bed. Shea was much different than she originally thought, and she almost felt bad for originally thinking so badly of a city man. He had only been being friendly, not pushing for more.

Curling up against the pillow, she drew the covers over her, too self-conscious to take off her traveling clothes. She tried to relax, but being in an inn again made memories from home rush back to her. Her mother could be downstairs making preparations for tomorrow’s meals. Her father could be splitting firewood out back. But it wasn’t true. Even if it was, they weren’t even her real parents. She felt another wave of tears coming on, but held them back.

She rolled over so she could face Shea. He was lying down, quiet. “Shea are you asleep yet?” she asked, trying her best to keep the despair out of her voice.

He rolled over and faced her. “Not quite,” he said drowsily.

“Can I ask you a personal question?”

That seemed to wake him up a little more, and he nodded.

“How old were you… when your parents died? How did you deal with it? I… can’t sleep.” It was more like her life had been turned upside-down, but she didn’t want to turn into a basket case in front of him.

He sat up. There was pity in his eyes. “I was thirteen, barely a teenager. My father’s death was a blow, but my mother’s…” He ran a hand through his hair, looking at the floor. “It was the most frightening thing I’ve ever seen. I just couldn’t accept that it was a suicide.”

“I’m so sorry,” Rain said quietly.

“Joining the Knights helped in a way I think nothing else would have. Giving myself a goal—to find out the truth of what happened to my parents—helped me focus and, really, to stay sane. I’m not sure how smart that thought was, though, that I could find out the whole truth. The only clue I had though, was my aegis, which my father had given to me a short time before he died. But I couldn’t tell anyone about it, since my father told me so, and nothing I studied with the Knights mentioned it. In all the years since then, meeting you and Whiskey has been the only lead I’ve found.

“A few times, I thought I was crazy, that I was wrong and my parents’ deaths were what they said it was. Two accidents. I was lucky, though, to be able to join as young as I was. Looking back, they probably let me join because they wanted to ingrain their beliefs on me, and not have to kill me like they did my parents. They’d get a new recruit out of me.” He grinned. “They had no idea I would never truly follow their beliefs.”

He looked at her, his eyes glinting in light of the oil lamp “I could easily say meeting you two has been the best thing that’s happened to me.”

She smiled back at him, the threat of tears now gone. “I’m happy for you, then. I’m glad to help.”

“Rain, I can’t imagine how it feels to witness your parents’ death. I only saw my mother, and she was already gone. You’ve also discovered that you’re a fostered child, and only a day later. I do know how it feels to lose the parents you grew up with, though, so if there’s anything I can do, just tell me.”

“Thanks. It means a lot,” Rain said.

Shea lay back down. “Goodnight, Rain.”

“Goodnight.” She shut her eyes, wishing for better dreams than the night before.

Link to the full-sized map

Link to Chapter 1 – Previous Chapter – Next Chapter

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Outside it was cold and foggy, the morning light beginning to peek through the cloudy sky. When she saw Pan saddled and bridled, Rain hurried to his side and rubbed his nose, leaning in close to appreciate her old friend. When she saw the other two were already mounting their horses, she hurriedly strapped the saddlebags to Pan’s back and hopped on, following behind Whiskey. Shea brought up the rear. Rain pulled up her cloak’s hood as they went down the stone roads of Fairfield, away from the Mourning Lady. There weren’t many people in the streets this early in the morning, and the few they passed eyed them suspiciously. Whiskey led them past the fresh smell of bakeries preparing for the day and the smoke of smithies starting their fires, out of town and onto the northern road.

The sun broke through the fog shortly, and soon they were traveling with the bright sunlight at their backs. A chill lingered in the air, though, and the sun didn’t give much heat. Around noon, Whiskey suggested they briefly stop and water the horses, and he took out apples, cheese, and fresh bread for them to eat. Shea took care of the horses and then sat down to join them.

“How long have you been with the Knights, Shea?” Whiskey asked, taking a bite of bread and cheese. “You’re quite young.”

Shea took a bite of an apple and swallowed. “I joined young, about ten years ago, after my parents passed away. My father was one of the Knights himself. Died on a mission. With the Knights, I studied things I never dreamed existed. My favorite topic was always the Great Darkness that happened a hundred years ago.”

“The Great Darkness?” Rain asked.

Shea’s eyes lit up, clearly happy to talk about the subject. He gestured with his dried meat as he talked. “They say an entire race went extinct and unleashed a wave of unspeakable monsters, about a hundred years ago. The details of it, though, are shrouded in mystery.”

“What race was it?”

“No one knows. But it happened at about the same time they walled off the Pass of Hearn, supposedly to protect us from the monsters. We have very few stories about the peoples across the Fangs after that. They say that after the Great Darkness, people stopped believing in magic, elves, dwarves, and the like.”

Whiskey sat very silently, looking at Shea with his eyes far away as he finished his bread and cheese.

“Forgive me, but it’s so strange hearing you talk of these things as if they’re true. My whole life, these things were just fables you tell the children.”

“Somewhere over those mountains lies a whole world waiting to be discovered.” He looked northeast, toward the mountains. “I’ve always wanted to travel past Highgate, but as a lieutenant, I’m charged with guarding just the lands south of them, Graemar. Only the higher ranks can go past the Fangs.”

“If you two are finished eating, we should be on our way,” Whiskey said.

They both nodded, looking at each other with all the glee of children. But as Rain readied Pan for riding again, she felt the paper from her dream shift positions under her collar, reminding her that she had to find time with Whiskey alone. She worried what the presence of the note could mean.

***

That evening, the dark sky dotted with stars and the moon shining and full, Rain, Whiskey, and Shea sat around a small crackling fire. Whiskey said they were deep enough into the woods that it would be hard to see the smoke. The night was cold, as autumn nights tended to be, and a slight wind whipped around them. Rain hugged her knees to keep the chill away. Close to the fire, she rubbed her hands together, urging the warmth to seep into her numbed fingers.

One of the logs in the fire crackled and fell near her. She tried lifting it with one hand, but it barely moved. She remembered what Whiskey had told her when she was shooting arrows the day before, and on a whim she imagined the log moving with ease.

Her hand began to glow red.

“Rain!” Whiskey exclaimed. “What are you doing?” He stood up and looked over the small fire’s flames at her hands, and she quickly hid them under her cloak. The light disappeared. Despite how quick she was, she thought he might have seen.

Shea, who was sitting close enough that he could have seen, looked at her, surprised. “What was that?”

“I’m…” she started, but realized she had no idea how to explain herself.

Whiskey stood up quickly and drew the long dagger at his hip, pointing it at Shea. Teeth gritted, face deadly serious, he said, “If you tell anyone what you saw here, I will kill you.”

Rain had never seen Whiskey be so threatening, and shrank from him just as much as Shea.

The lieutenant held up his hands protectively. “Wait a minute. Lower your weapon. I should explain myself.”

Whiskey frowned uncertainly, lowering his dagger slightly. “What do you mean?”

“I’m…” he paused, thinking. “You gave Rain that aegis, right?” He took off his own and held it out to Whiskey. “I was hoping you would be able to tell me more about mine.”

Whiskey looked at Shea and judged his intent, then slowly sheathed his dagger and took the aegis, sitting back down. He ran his fingers over the stone for a minute. “It is the same,” he said, surprised. He handed it back. “Who are you, really? A true Knight wouldn’t dare carry something of such magic.”

“So it does have magical qualities? I always wondered. It does comfort me to hold it, even after all these years after my father’s passing.” He secured it around his neck again. “My mother was an herb seller, but behind the shop, she would see patients. She was secretly a healer.”

“You mean a doctor?” Rain asked, not sure what he meant.

“She used the herbs to heal, but she dabbled in elemental magic as well. She fixed broken bones and illnesses much more quickly than would naturally occur, even with the best medicine.”

“But you said your father was a Knight,” Whiskey said. “Why would he allow such a thing?”

“He loved my mother. She showed him how magic could be used for good. He helped her hide it, even though it went against what he was taught. I grew up learning that magic was not all evil.”

“Why on earth would you join the Knights, then, if you believed such things?”

Shea looked at the ground, fingering the aegis. “When my father died, the Knights told my mother and me that he passed away on a mission, killed by something evil. We weren’t allowed to see the body, since it was so mangled.” He shook his head. “My mother was devastated. She already had trouble dealing with him being gone so often on missions. But when I came home one day to find she had killed herself, I knew it wasn’t true. She loved life, and me, and she wholeheartedly believed in helping people with magic. She would never leave them all behind. Someone had to have killed her.

“The Knights were then eager to take me in as a new recruit, telling me of all the gallant deeds my father had done, and how well I would follow in his footsteps. I never allowed myself to fully believe in the evil of magic like the Knights taught. I knew there was a good side to it, but I was too afraid to voice my opinions, in case I would die like my parents. Ever since, I’ve tried my best to investigate their deaths. The only clue I ended up with was this aegis, and I’ve finally been able to leave the city on missions and try to find out more.”

Shea looked up at Whiskey intently. “You know about this aegis. Its properties. Maybe you could help me.”

“How do I know you’re not lying about all this?” Whiskey asked.

“I give you my word that I won’t tell my captain about any magic you two may practice. You don’t have to help me until after we get to Highgate and see him, and I prove my trust to you. I do have to get back to him, or my superiors will think something’s wrong, and come looking for me.”

“Why should I help you?”

Rain frowned at Whiskey’s response, but stayed silent. Shea’s story seemed genuine enough to her, and if all he wanted was to know a little bit about an aegis, it seemed to her that he deserved the help after ten years of waiting.

“The roads are indeed dangerous these days, and I’m trained in dealing with craetons and any other beings of evil intent that we may come across. I can also tell you whatever you might want to know about Brygern, or other events the Knights are investigating.”

“You really want to know about this aegis, don’t you?” Whiskey said. “Telling me inside information about the Knights could get you executed just as much as telling them about your true beliefs would.”

“If I can help you in my position as a Knight, I trust you won’t expose me. I feel like you’re the people I’ve been waiting all these years to meet.”

Whiskey thought for a moment. Rain met his gaze. “I want an explanation as much as he does,” she said.

“You can stay with us, for now,” Whiskey said, turning back to Shea. “If you breathe a word of anything you hear to anyone, you’re as good as dead.”

The lieutenant nodded. “I understand. Thank you.”

“I don’t know much myself,” Rain said. “All I know,” she looked at Whiskey, “is that I did magic. Can’t you tell me more about it?”

Whiskey stared into the fire. “I suppose it’s time to tell you about things,” he said quietly. He took a quick glance at Shea before continuing. “But please, don’t practice it right now. It’s not safe. The Wingmaster’s raven could be watching us. We don’t want you recognized.”

Rain nodded. “Fine. But stop avoiding my questions. Tell me what’s going on. I have a right to know.” At this point, she didn’t care if Shea heard everything. She believed his story, but if he was a traitor, she felt she could kill him as well as Whiskey threatened to.

“Your magic. You have it because you are… not human. You’re a moon elf.”

Rain realized the note from her dream mentioned them. “What? I’m a moon elf? But my parents aren’t elves. They look less like elves than I do.” The mental wall holding back her emotions cracked. “They looked less like elves,” she corrected.

“Celena and Fergus weren’t your birth parents. Your real parents were moon elves, too.”

She stared at him, her eyes blurry. At their names, the wall had cracked beyond repair, and the flood of emotions she’d held in check for so long started flooding through. “I—I’m sorry, I have to be alone…” She stood up and wiped her eyes, heading into the woods, walking faster and faster, embarrassed to let the wall of emotions fall apart in front of them.

Slowing down, she found a thick tree and stopped, resting her back against it. A sob escaped, and a few tears ran down her face. She had suspected her parents weren’t her true birth parents. They’d never told her much at all about their pasts, or even her birth. Now she knew the truth, but they weren’t around to explain things. They would never be. She hugged her knees and let herself go, tears running like a waterfall down her face, sobs wracking her body. For the first time, the warmth of the aegis did nothing for her.

***

Rain cried herself dry and rested her head on her knees. “I feel so alone,” she whispered.

“That’s right, lovely. You’re all alone.”

She looked around and stood up quickly, searching the dark woods for the voice. A figure moved silently towards her, and when it was close enough, she recognized his face.

“Damien!” she exclaimed. But he wasn’t the stableman she knew. He wore dark black robes with a red raven emblazoned on his right breast. “Have you been following us?” she said in surprise.

He leered at her. “It wasn’t too difficult.” He spoke a few words in a strange language. She backed up against the tree, too surprised to think what to do. His eyes began to grow dark.

Damien frowned. “Strange. You seem to be resisting. No matter.” Rain looked down to double check her aegis wasn’t visible. When she looked up, his eyes had become dark voids, sucking in any moonlight around them.

“Well, hello,” he said in a voice that wasn’t his. He held out his hand. “A pleasure to meet the last moon elf to escape me.” Rain didn’t shake his hand, and he lowered it. “Don’t you want to shake hands? You’re meeting the great Myrna herself.” The voice cackled, sending a shiver up her spine.

“You’re Myrna?” Rain’s mouth felt dry.

“Not this body. My real body is much more beautiful. More womanly.” Damien’s mouth started to grin, and then frowned. “Why aren’t you frozen in fear? He’s such an idiot. I have to do everything myself.” Myrna started to chant similar words to the ones Damien spoke earlier. The voice stopped abruptly as Damien looked past Rain into the woods behind her. His eyes widened and then lightened to their normal state. “Another time,” he muttered in his own voice, and silently slipped away behind the trees.

Rain turned around to see Whiskey, deep concern on his face. “Are you alright? I thought I’d check on you.” He peered into the woods. “Was someone else here? I thought I heard talking.”

“Damien. I think he works for Myrna. There was a red raven on his robes…” She hugged Whiskey tightly. “I’m okay. If not for the aegis, and you showing up, I’m not sure what would have happened.”

“I’m sorry I had to dump all that information on you at once. I should have been gentler about it.”

Rain shook her head and pulled away. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve known somehow that Celena and Fergus weren’t my real parents. It was just hard to hear it out loud, and be reminded of what happened.”

“Are you sure you’re alright?”

She felt a weight in her stomach, a heavy tiredness from crying. “I’ll be fine. I just need time.” Or, at least she hoped that was all she needed. Right now she just felt numb.

“Let’s go back to the fire, shall we? And you can tell me all about Damien.”

“Wait,” she said. She pulled the note from her dream out from under her collar. “I have something to show you, and I don’t know if Shea should know about it.” Whiskey took the note, looking it over. “I had a dream last night, and this was in it. When I woke up, I still had it with me.”

“Was there anything else odd about the dream?” Whiskey asked, still looking at the note.

“Other than the Wingmaster, there was a shadow-thing. Red eyes.”

Whiskey looked up. “A shadow with red eyes? This is sounding like the work of a dreamwalker.” He gave the note back. “Even though I had my doubts about Shea, I think we can trust him. I talked to him a bit while you were gone, and I can tell his story is true. Let’s continue this back at camp, where it’s easier to tell who’s listening in.”

Rain nodded her agreement, but was still uneasy.

***

A short couple of minutes later, they came back to the campsite. Shea was adding another log to the fire, and it sparked and fizzled. He looked up at Rain’s tearstained face.

“Are you alright?” he asked, concerned.

“She encountered Damien, our stableman,” Whiskey said as the two of them sat down. “Apparently he works with the Wingmasters now.”

“It’s amazing to me how much I wasn’t taught as a Knight,” Shea said. He faced Rain and said, “He told me about the Wingmaster at your inn. I had no idea that kind of magic was possible.”

She wasn’t sure how she felt about Shea knowing details of her parents’ death, but there were more important things to worry about. “I have something to show you,” she said, handing Shea the bloodstained note. “This came from my dream. It was in it, and then I woke up with it in my hand.”

He looked at her curiously. “Are you sure you didn’t write it in your sleep? Or that someone came into your room and put it there?”

“Yes. The stains on it are exactly the same. It would be near impossible to replicate it.” She shivered thinking about how the bloodstains got there.

“He says it was a dreamwalker.” Rain gestured at Whiskey.

“I haven’t heard of them, either,” Shea said, handing back the note. “What are they?”

Whiskey smiled. “These things aren’t in the Libraries of Eastcastle because the Knights are too afraid to investigate them.” Shea frowned, but stayed quiet. “Dreamwalkers are typically harnessed by Demonmasters, studiers of a certain branch of spirit magic. It’s likely that Myrna has employed a few of them. If Damien’s been following us, and wore the same robes as the Wingmaster, it’s possible he was the one who had the dreamwalker enter your dream.” He looked down at the paper. “When a dreamwalker tampers with your dreams, the lines between dreaming and reality thin. This paper was in your dream, and then it was in your hand. This can be very dangerous. If you’re hurt in your dream, you wake up with the same wound.” He handed the slip of paper to Shea so he could look it over.

“Damien did say he’d been following us,” Rain said. “At one point, his eyes went dark, and he seemed to be possessed. I think it was Myrna herself who spoke to me.”

“Do you know who this ‘Dar’Quath’ is, then?” Shea asked Whiskey, handing the note back to Rain.

“No,” Whiskey said. “But it’s time I tell you what I know about Myrna.” He was silent for a moment, and Rain almost thought he’d forgotten to speak. Then he began.

“Myrna was a moon elf, but she was born without innate magic, which is fairly rare. When this happens, moon elves usually leave their kind and study elemental magic with the other elves, away from home. Elemental magic is possible to learn even if you have no magical abilities. But Myrna resented having to leave her kind, and felt elemental magic wasn’t powerful enough for her, and so delved into spirit magic. Doing such things was against the elven laws, since the magic was so dark and difficult to control, but she kept it hidden from the others. Soon, though, they found out she had murdered someone with the magic, and the leaders of the moon elves considered putting her to death. Crimes like that are unheard of among the elves. They are peaceful by nature. In retaliation, banished the moon elves to an alternate world. No one knows if she knew things would go that far. It was what people referred to as the ‘Great Darkness.’”

“The Great Darkness?” Shea asked, excited. “But that was a hundred years ago. How old are you?”

“And how did I escape? I’m only twenty,” Rain said.

He smiled at Shea and ignored his question. “We found you in the forest. Your parents had escaped the banishment for some eighty years, and then had you. They hid you from Myrna and her followers. I don’t know what happened to your parents. They were probably killed. But after we found you, the Council took you in, and I was appointed to watch over you. Until today, when I began telling you about magic and the raven saw us, Myrna likely had no idea you existed.” He looked mournful.

“Whiskey, it wasn’t your fault. It sounds like Myrna would have found me eventually.” She stared into the fire. “Did my parents know all this? I mean, Celena and Fergus?”

“They knew enough to keep you safe. I was traveling to find a good home for you and met them. They weren’t able to have a child of their own, so they agreed to take you in.”

Rain stared at the note. “So if my birth parents are dead, then I’m the last one of my kind in this world?”

“Apart from Myrna, yes.” He pointed at the note she held. “You need to learn how to use your magic, to protect yourself.”

“How do I do that if I’m the last one with magic? Who could teach me?”

“I know a few things about innate magic, since I’ve worked with the moon elves and studied them even before they were banished. That was one of the reasons I was the one chosen to take care of you. I knew the most about your kind. Once we’re out of harm’s way, I’ll start teaching you.”

Rain smiled despite the gravity of what he was telling her. She could do magic.

“Incredible,” Shea said, looking from Rain to Whiskey. “I can’t believe it. A moon elf and a man who’s more than a hundred years old. What would Mr. Patal say now?” He grinned. “I’m sorry, but my scholarly urges take over sometimes.”

She smiled back. “Hard to believe you don’t know everything?” Her yawn took away from the bite of the comment.

Shea gave Rain a tired look, well aware of her prejudices.

“I’ll take first watch,” Whiskey said. “You two sleep.”

Rain pulled her blankets around her as she laid down, trying to find a comfortable spot to lie in. Finding out about her past only raised more questions, it seemed. She took her aegis in hand, hoping it would help clear her mind, and let its warmth and that of the fire soothe her to sleep.

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It was true that she was a little curious about the lieutenant. How did he know about craetons? Had he come from Willshire and seen the destruction, too? She headed for one of the two cushy armchairs in front of the fire and sat down with a long sigh. Her legs ached from the long ride on the saddle. The lieutenant sat in the chair next to her, rubbing his hands together in front of the flames. He looked at her again but she refused to meet his gaze, instead looking into the fire.

“You should at least let me know your name,” he said. “I gave you mine, it’s a fair trade.”

“Rain,” she said, giving in. “So you’re a Knight of Callaghan? Do you save women from evil beasts regularly?” She wondered why he hadn’t mentioned her ears or hair yet, especially if he indeed was a Knight and all the stories were true, that they gathered information about the unusual.

“No, they’re usually smart enough not to travel at night,” he said, teasing.

“Why did you act as if you’d seen and killed craetons before?”

“Because I’ve studied them.”

Rain stared, not believing him. All the things she read about craetons had been legends. “You study children’s stories? What are you, some kind of traveling minstrel?”

“Knights of Callaghan are not minstrels,” he said, as if he thought she didn’t have a clue. “We’re protectors.”

“Of course you are,” Rain said. “But you don’t look old enough to be one.”

“I was an exception. I started training at a young age.” He leaned back in his chair. “You didn’t… come from Willshire, did you?”

She looked him in the eye, not saying he was wrong. His eyes widened.

“So when you said to Beren that you knew someone in Willshire…”

“I live there.”

“Oh, God. Are you alright?” He looked at her worriedly, perhaps afraid to deal with someone emotionally unstable. “I didn’t think anyone escaped.”

Rain dropped her hand to the chain around her neck and clutched the aegis, which had fallen out from under her neckline. She held it for a moment, appreciating its calming effect. She didn’t want to cry in front of him. The lieutenant looked at the stone with a frown and she hurriedly hid it again, remembering how Whiskey had told her not to show it to anyone.

In the firelight, she saw a glint around his neck. A chain. He reached under his own neckline and pulled the exact replica of her aegis, a milky-white stone set in silver. She pulled her own aegis out again to compare.

“Where did you get one of these?” he asked, confused.

“Where did you get one?”

“It was given to me by my father. He said it was magical protection against fear. Hasn’t done much for me except given a sense of comfort when I’m worried. Even that’s probably from my memory of him.”

Avoiding his question, she asked, “What were you doing passing through Willshire?”

He looked unsure if he should say anything, but glanced at her aegis and seemed to change his mind. He lowered his voice and glanced at the bar where Beren was still preparing their drinks. “I’m on one of my first major missions with the Knights. I was sent to investigate reports of an attack in Brygern.”

She remembered the conversation she’d overheard at the bar earlier that day, but kept her emotions in check, her mental wall firmly in place. “What did you find there?”

He looked at her peculiarly, but answered the question all the same. “There were scorch marks. Huge blackened areas all over the streets. Almost every other building had a shattered roof. It was as if lightning had struck over and over again. There was quite a mess. The doorways were marked with…” he paused and seemed to judge her. “With what looked like blood. I was ordered to confirm the damage and report back to the Captain in Highgate.” He stared into the fire, a grave look creasing his brow. “The strangest thing was that there were no people, no bodies, and no blood except on the doors.”

The Wingmaster back at the inn had used lightning. She had controlled a storm, no less. Her heart raced at the possibilities and she felt her mental wall begin to crack. Where was Whiskey? How long would she have to wait to know whether or not he was alive?

Beren came with their drinks, setting them down on the small table between them. “Sorry it took a bit, I couldn’t find our chamomile. Just the thing for a good night’s sleep,” he said, winking at her.

“Thank you, Beren,” Rain said, taking a sip of her tea. The hot liquid seemed to instantly warm all the parts the fire couldn’t reach.

“I’d love to stay and chat, but I should get some rest,” Beren said.

“Go on, sleep,” Shea said. “We’ll trade stories in the morning.” Rain guessed Beren didn’t know anything about the craetons yet, and thought it was probably better that he slept without worrying.

When Beren was out of earshot, Shea continued. “I was traveling back from Brygern and saw the craetons in Willshire. I skirted the town as best I could.”

Rain looked at her aegis, remembering how it had protected Whiskey. “If you know what craetons are, do you know anything about people called Wingmasters?” she asked.

“No, I don’t. Why, where did you hear the name?”

Rain considered telling him what had happened but thought better of it. “It’s nothing, never mind.” She looked up at the lieutenant, finally seeing him as someone who might help, despite her lack of trust of city folk. He couldn’t be working for the Wingmaster if the aegis he wore possessed the same magic as hers. “I’m sorry, lieutenant, I’m just not in the mood to trust people right now. I’m waiting for a friend. He’s the one who gave me my aegis. I just received it a few hours ago. Except… I was told not to show it to anyone.”

“Call me Shea. And don’t worry, I won’t hold it against you,” he smiled. “Who’s your friend?” he asked with a little more interest than she expected.

“Oh, it’s nothing like that,” she laughed. “It was the bartender I talked about before, Whiskey. I…” She looked into the fire. “I feel like a deserter, but I’ve known Whiskey my whole life and I know to trust him. He said I’d be safer riding ahead to Fairfield.” She paused. Letting her voice turn to a whisper, she asked, “Is Willshire going to turn out like Brygern?”

“I’m not going to lie. Evidence certainly points that way,” he said, a painful look on his face. “I can tell you’re strong. You’re holding yourself together much better than I would have expected.” Rain tried to smile. He had no idea how close that wall was to crumbling. “If you trust Whiskey, and he’s such a good friend of Beren’s as well, he’s probably fine. I’ll stay up a little later if you want to sleep. I can even tell Beren to keep an eye out for your friend. He’s probably still awake.”

“Thank you. I don’t think I can sleep yet, though.” She drank more of her tea, letting it relax her.

His gaze lingered on her ears again. “It’s odd. You look just like an elf. I hope you don’t mind me saying so.”

She stared at him. “You don’t believe those stories, do you? Elves, faeries, all that? I never believed Knights really studied all that stuff.”

“Between you and me, us Knights are taught that it all exists. But tonight was the first time I actually encountered anything from the legends.”

They sat in silence for a moment. She felt a spark of excitement that someone, a Knight of Callaghan of all people, thought she could have a connection to the elves. She had enjoyed learning about them from Whiskey as a young girl, about their magic and houses built out of trees, and remembered how her parents scorned her for listening to “such nonsense.” Her throat constricted at her memories, and she swallowed.

The fire danced before her eyes, and she finally felt her eyelids start to droop. “Actually, I think I am going to try to sleep.” She stood up, stretching her tired legs.

“Sleep well. I’ll wake you when your friend gets here.”

She smiled. “Thanks.”

“Not a problem.”

She took her tea with her and sluggishly walked up the stairs to her room. The room was simple but decent, a bed, table, chair, small basin, and a chest at the foot of the bed. Her saddlebags had been placed on the bed. She put the tea on the table and moved everything from her bed to the floor. She shut and locked the door behind her and dropped onto the bed, immediately falling into a deep sleep.

***

Bright sunlight shone through the window, waking Rain from a satisfying sleep. She sat up and rubbed her eyes, noticing her dresser from back home in the corner. The bed sheets were also familiar. Now wide awake, she tossed back the covers, standing up in her white nightgown, and peeked out the door. She was back at the Oak Tree. It must have all been a bad dream. By the sun’s light she knew she had slept too long. She dressed in her usual working clothes and hurried down the stairs.

She stopped in shock when she saw the wreckage. Walking forward, she fingered the pieces of broken wood lying across the floor. Chunks of wood from the walls, chairs, and tables were strewn about as if every piece of furniture in the room had been broken. Her foot hit something stiff. A boot. She lifted the piece of broken table that was obscuring the rest of the body and gasped. Her father laid there, a shocked expression still on his face. Her mother lay across him protectively, her body slumped against his. She bent to touch her mother’s hand, almost falling to her knees, but stopped when she heard a swishing noise. Lifting her head, she saw the dark robes of a Wingmaster.

She stood up and backed away, nearly tripping over a stray chair. The Wingmaster’s unnerving eyes stared back at her from under her hood, a satisfied smile on her lips. She tried to find the wall and the door behind her to escape, but her eyes couldn’t break away from the woman’s stare.

“I have found you. She will be pleased.” The dark-robed figure reached out her hand and white light gathered and sizzled in her palm.

“No. No!” Rain yelled. She expected her body to stiffen in fear, but realized her aegis protected her. She found the door and stumbled outside, running from the inn. Storm clouds raged above. Her feet pounded on the dirt road and trees whipped past her. She soon passed her familiar archery practice area.

The Wingmaster yelled behind her, “You cannot hide. Myrna will find you!”

In no time she was panting, out of breath. She stopped and looked behind her. The Wingmaster hadn’t followed.

She hadn’t seen Whiskey yet, and she decided to look for him in the woods in case he’d gone looking for her. She stepped carefully through the underbrush to keep from making noise or leaving much of a trail.

As she approached a clearing, a strange red stain on the ground caught her eye. After stepping through the tall ferns, her hand flew to her mouth. Lying before her on the forest floor was Whiskey, an arrow through his heart, his eyes staring lifelessly into the treetops. A dark stain covered his tunic and the ground around him. A note was pinned to his chest, the arrow piercing it. She shook her head and squeezed her eyes shut, tears escaping. This couldn’t be happening. She opened them and the note was still there. Hands shaking, she walked forward and carefully tore the paper away from the arrow. It was covered in bloodstains and black handwriting.

The moon elves will be vanquished. The Sisters will be killed. I will find you. Do not continue on this path, maiden. You are the last. You will fail. This is your first warning.

                                                                                    Dar’Quath

 Whatever it meant, it chilled her to the bone. She folded the bloodstained note and slipped it under her collar. When she looked back at Whiskey, his body was gone. Shea stood in his place. He smiled at her warmly, and she nearly threw her arms around him in relief. But his body began to change. He grew taller and became darker, turning into a shadowy apparition with no features except blazing red eyes. Its arms reached for her, and she screamed.

***

Something dug into her side and she squeezed her eyes shut in pain. When she opened them she saw she was back in her room at the Mourning Lady. The faint glow of dawn shone through the thin curtains. She was lying on the floor in full traveling gear, with blankets twisted around and her dagger’s sheath poking her side. Her aegis felt warm against her skin.

A rapping on the door startled her into a standing position. She threw her blankets back onto her bed and went to the door, opening it slightly.

Whiskey stood there, looking disheveled but definitely alive. “Are you alright?” he asked. “The lieutenant downstairs said you’d be here.”

She hugged him fiercely. “I thought you were dead! I can’t believe you’re here.”

He smoothed her hair. “It’s alright, Rain. I wouldn’t leave you.”

Rain pulled away and nodded slowly, rubbing her damp forehead with her hand. “I’m fine, considering. Are you alright? What happened in Willshire?”

Whiskey entered the room and closed the door behind him, then sat in the chair. Rain sat across from him, on the bed. The old bartender shook his head and it took a few moments for him to speak. “The craetons, they… destroyed everything.”

“Everything?” Rain whispered, her hopes breaking like glass. “What of Mimsy? The customers?” Her thoughts went to her dream, the broken chairs and tables, common room ruined.

“I managed to get a horse to Mimsy before I escaped, and I hope she’s well on her way to Eastcastle by now. I gathered what I could in a saddlebag and slipped away on horseback. It was too late to help anyone else.” He swallowed hard. “I had to get through a few craetons, but the group I encountered was small and I don’t think they followed me.”

“I talked to Lieutenant Shea last night and it sounds like this group attacked Brygern a few days back,” Rain said.

Whiskey looked at her gravely. “Rain, he’s a Knight of Callaghan. Do you know what that means?”

“Not exactly… he studied legends, he said, and was investigating the destruction at Brygern. He actually studied books about craetons and elves as if they were true!”

“The Knights of Callaghan were created for one purpose,” Whiskey said. “To rid the world of magic.”

Rain frowned. “I haven’t heard that rumor too often. What are you saying?”

“It’s no rumor. He can’t be trusted. But he can’t be in league with our enemy, either—the Knights don’t use magic. They kill those using magic for good or for evil, without caring which it is. How much did you tell him?”

“Not much. Except… how can you say they don’t use magic when he has an aegis like mine?” She reached under her collar to pull it out and was startled to feel a piece of paper. Was it the note from her dream? Too afraid that it was, she ignored it and pulled out the aegis.

Whiskey looked from her face to the aegis. “How do you know he has one?”

“I… he saw me holding mine.” She looked down, ashamed to have forgotten his warning to not show it to anyone. She kept talking, afraid of what he might say. “He showed me that he had the same one. I swear, it looked exactly the same, and he said his father told him it had power against fear. I’m not sure he believes that, though.”

“Exactly the same?” Whiskey said, a curious look on his face. “He could have been lying to you. It’s possible he could help us, but Rain, if we tell him too much, he could turn against us. If he knew—” he stopped, thinking. “We just can’t completely trust him.”

“Why not? Isn’t it just our enemies that use magic? He could help us.”

Whiskey was silent.

“That was magic in our last archery lesson, wasn’t it?”

He nodded reluctantly.

Rain sensed she wasn’t going to get anywhere with this line of questioning. “Then where are we going to go?” she asked, putting the aegis back under her shirt. “If the craetons did attack Brygern, Fairfield has to be next. It’s right in their path, if they’re following the main road.”

“I don’t think we have to worry about that. With the Wingmaster dead, the craetons don’t have a leader. They’ll probably go back to Myrna. I think Beren’s inn will be alright. But the raven could still be following us, telling Myrna and her other spies of our whereabouts. We can’t stay in one place for long.”

“Who is Myrna? The Wingmaster mentioned that name. And what exactly is a Wingmaster?”

“We can’t spend too much time talking here, but I can tell you a few things. Wingmasters use spirit magic, the darkest sort. It lets you command the spirits and minds of other beings. It’s how they use fear to paralyze their victims. Whenever I’ve seen them, they travel with a raven as a kind of familiar. They must have started as elves with elemental magic, because it’s clear they like to create storms and use lightning as a weapon. But I’ve never seen or heard of them in many years.”

“How do you know all this?” Rain asked, amazed.

“I’ve… had run-ins with them before,” Whiskey replied, and left it at that. “Myrna is a long story for another time. All you need to know right now is that she’s extremely dangerous. As for where we’re going, I think it’s time we head across the mountains. Through Highgate and across the pass.”

“Across the Fangs?” Rain asked, not sure if she was excited or frightened. She wasn’t one for superstition, but she’d heard stories about things across the mountains. Dark shadows behind every tree. Harsh, treacherous terrain. “Why?”

“I know people in Ellwood who can help us.”

Rain nodded, not sure what Ellwood was, but trusting him to know what to do. “What are we going to do about Shea? Can he help us or not?”

“Let’s go find out,” he said, standing up wearily. “Just don’t tell him too much.”

***

Downstairs, the morning light filtered through slightly dusty windows and the few patrons that had stayed the night before sipped mugs of ale and ate hot sausage and bread. The fire was lit, since the morning was chilly. Shea and Beren were sitting at a table at the far corner near the bar, conversing in hushed voices.

Shea looked up, smiling when he saw Rain approaching. “Sleep well?”

“Well enough,” she said. She and Whiskey sat in the empty chairs at the table.

“Beren, old friend,” Whiskey said. “Thank you for all your help.” He pulled out a small coin pouch, generously filled.

Beren’s eyes widened and he smiled broadly. He was now changed out of his nightgown and into pants and a tunic with a flour-dusted apron surrounding his hefty middle. He smelled of a strange mix of ale and fresh bread. “Oh, but this is too much,” he said, accepting the pouch with his pudgy fingers, weighing it in his palm.

“I insist,” Whiskey replied. “Business is slow. Look at you! When you have too many customers to handle you have to double as a cook or a bartender to keep things going. Those rumors about towns being abandoned and destroyed is keeping people out of the countryside. You might need some extra change to keep this place going in the near future.” He winked. “And remember all I told you. We were never here.”

The innkeeper nodded vigorously. “Haven’t seen you for months.”

“Now, if you wouldn’t mind, I need to talk to these young folks here…”

“Absolutely. Not a problem. I’ll make sure you aren’t disturbed.” He stood up, bowing his head, and scurried off to attend to the other customers.

Whiskey turned to Shea. “Lieutenant. Rain told me you came from Brygern, with grave news.” Rain noticed Whiskey looking at the chain around Shea’s neck. The aegis was hidden under his collar.

“Call me Shea. Yes, the town was abandoned and destroyed. I’m traveling to Highgate to report to my captain. You were the last to see Willshire, weren’t you? What did it look like?”

Whiskey glanced at Rain. “I didn’t get a good look, but craetons were destroying the place. I got out of there as soon as possible.”

“It would help if you could remember any details about the attack. The more I know, the better my report, and the sooner we can figure out why this is happening and stop it.”

Whiskey thought for a moment. “Why don’t we travel with you? We’re headed in the same direction, and it would be good for us to have some extra protection on the road. We could tell your captain what happened, in person.”

Rain tried not to look startled. How would they get any time to talk about things with Shea right there with them? She wasn’t keen on traveling with someone from the city, either. No matter how nice he was to her the night before, city people thought they knew everything.

“That sounds great, actually,” Shea said. “My captain would appreciate seeing witnesses for himself, instead of just hearing what you said to me,” he smiled. “Thank you for willing to do that.”

“Anything to help a Knight protect the people,” Whiskey said, not unkindly. Rain could hardly believe he’d just told her to not trust the lieutenant.

“I’ll go get my things,” Rain said, smiling at Shea as she stood up, trying her best not to look uneasy.

When she entered her room and saw her blankets in disarray on the bed, she remembered her dream and the paper under her collar. She pulled it out.

It was the same note as the one in the dream, bloodstains and all. Dar’Quath’s signature made her shiver. She hurriedly stuffed it back under her shirt, afraid that looking at it would bring the frightening images back to life. She promised herself to tell Whiskey about it as soon as they had some time alone.

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“Mother! Father! Whiskey!” Rain yelled, finally able to move. People around her found their voices as well, and screams, yells, and loud talking filled the room. She rushed forward, scrambling around tables and chairs, and knelt down beside her mother and father. Their bodies were limp, and she put her ear to each of their chests. “Mother? Father?” She couldn’t feel their heartbeats.

“Mimsy,” Whiskey said quickly, “please escort the customers outside. Through the back door, please. Wait for me in the kitchen.” Mimsy nodded. Chairs scraped on the floor and frightened people were ushered across the room.

Rain held her mother’s hand in hers, both of them still covered in flour and dough. “Mother, father, wake up. Wake up.”  She was frantic, not comprehending. Whiskey knelt down beside her, feeling for her parents’ pulses and checking if they were breathing.

Whiskey gave her a sad look, and reached out his hand to touch her face comfortingly. “Listen to me, Rain. You have to be strong. We aren’t safe here. Do what I say, and everything will be alright.”

Rain nodded, forcing the events of the past few minutes out of her mind. Everything was happening to someone else and she was only watching. It was all just a dream. Her eyes passed over the pile of dark robes and blood behind Whiskey and she swallowed to keep her stomach still. Then she realized the storm outside was gone completely, and it was only just beginning to get dark.

Whiskey stood up, suddenly alert. “I owe you an explanation, but now is not the time.” He ran to the broken doorframe and looked into the sky. “Her raven must have flown off to warn the others!” he swore and turned back around to face Rain. “We have no time to lose. Come with me, quickly.”

Numbly, she stood up and followed him behind the bar where he lit a small lantern, then went down the stairs to the cellar.

***

The lantern illuminated a small circle around them in the dark room. She followed him closely, constantly peering behind her, afraid the woman’s body would somehow rise up and attack them.

He motioned her over to the far corner of the room. Handing her the lantern, he moved a few empty barrels around and kneeled before a large chest that Rain had never seen before. He unlatched it, and she bent down to shed light on the chest’s contents. Inside was a large brown sack, covered with blankets. He opened the sack and pulled out a worn dagger in a scabbard. He gave her the dagger, held onto the sack, put everything else back into the chest, and secured it shut.

“I want you to keep that. It was my lucky dagger from my traveling days. I also want you to have this.” He reached behind his neck and unclasped a silver chain that he’d never worn before. He pulled it out from under his shirt, revealing a milky-white stone set in silver dangling on the chain, sparkling in the lantern light.

“An amulet?” Rain asked, curiosity breaking her silence.

“It’s called an aegis. This one protects against fear. Wear it and you will be shielded from spells like the one that sorceress cast. It was the only way I could get close enough to kill her.”

He handed it to her and she secured it around her neck. It rested just above her bodice, and as she put it on, a feeling of warm comfort filled her body. “Where did you get it—?”

“Not now, child. You don’t have time to be curious.” He spoke in a grave tone of voice that was very unusual for him. “That woman, she’s called a Wingmaster. It was probably her raven in the forest earlier today. I should have known. The raven could be sending more like her here, or worse. It is not safe here for you anymore. They will be looking for you.” Rain stared back at him, narrowing her eyes. Looking for her? He handed her the sack. “Take this and fill it with food, an extra set of clothing, and anything else you might need. Pack warmly, the winter is not far off. Arm yourself with the dagger and your bow and quiver, and ride Pan to Fairfield.”

Fairfield! She’d only once been that far from home. Leaving Whiskey behind was the last thing she wanted to do, but she also didn’t want to stay and encounter more trouble.

“Be sure to lay low, and if you see anyone at all that seems even slightly dangerous, avoid them at all cost. If you ride hard, you can make it there before midnight. The innkeeper at the Mourning Lady in Fairfield should be able to keep you safe until I arrive. Most importantly, do not expose the aegis to anyone.”

“Why aren’t you coming with me?”

He put his hand on her shoulder. “I’ll be fine. I have to help Mimsy with the customers and check on a few things. It’s more important that you escape. I’ll meet you in Fairfield.”

He took the lantern from her, and she frowned like she did when he didn’t answer enough of her questions.

“You have to trust me. Alright?”

“What about my parents?” she blurted. “Aren’t they alright? Won’t they be coming with you?” She stared fixedly at him, feeling the walls she tried to put up in her mind start to crack.

He touched her shoulder again. “Be strong for me. I know you can do it.”

At his touch and tone of voice, her mental walls strengthened, and she nodded.

“If you are ever afraid, touch the stone. It will help. I’d advise you to change into a dress that hides it, though. It cannot fall into the wrong hands.” He took the lantern. “I’ll meet you in the stables when you’re ready. Come as quickly as you can.”

***

She hurried up the stairs to her room. Following Whiskey’s advice, she changed into a gray riding dress she had received from her mother. Delicate black and dark green stitching of ivy leaves traced the cuffs and ran along the front. Its woolen sleeves and high collar made it perfect for cold weather. She carefully slipped the aegis under the collar and laced it securely shut. Gathering her bow and its supplies from under her bed and latching the dagger’s belt to her waist, she stuffed the extra clothes and blankets into her sack and hurried to the stables.

At once she realized she had forgotten the food, and was about to go back to the kitchen when she saw Whiskey already in the stables. He had packed saddlebags and was securing them to Pan’s back.

“Thank you, I had almost forgotten,” she said. Whiskey took her sack and packed everything she’d gathered into the saddlebags. She noticed he’d strapped a sword and scabbard to his belt.

“I found these saddlebags from when I used to travel, much more practical than this old sack.”

She nodded and looked around the stables. “Where’s Damien?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t seen him, and we don’t have time to waste,” Whiskey said. Rain followed him as he walked Pan outside, now ready for riding. It was getting dark, but the skies were calm. She swung herself onto Pan’s back as Whiskey talked.

“Follow the east road. The path we take for archery lessons is the same one you’ll take tonight, but follow it farther, past the bridge over the creek and continue it to Fairfield.” He patted the saddlebags. “You should have all you need. Be careful.”

“I will.”

A dark shape appeared on the path she had been about to follow, coming out of the forest. It was shorter and stockier than a normal man, and its dark armor clinked in the silence of the coming night.

Rain gasped. “Is that a—”

“Craeton,” Whiskey said in a low voice.

Craetons were said to live far north of the Fangs in a place called the Barrens of Chakros. They were a short, strong beast-like people with a fondness for gold and spilling blood. They were childhood stories. Just stories. She wondered why Whiskey didn’t look surprised to see one.

Paces behind the first craeton were another, and another. Despite the dark, she could see that their dark black armor was emblazoned with a red raven and they were armed to the teeth, carrying bigger swords and maces than she’d ever seen at the town’s blacksmith.

“What will you do?” she whispered, pulling the hood of her cloak up, unsuccessfully hiding from her fear.

“Don’t worry about me.” He tapped the sword at his hip. “Give the east road a wide berth. You don’t want to run into more craetons.”

“But—!”

“Just go!” he said in an urgent whisper. He slapped Pan’s withers and the horse bolted so fast she didn’t get to say goodbye.

***

Rain traveled eastward through Willshire, riding behind buildings and out of sight when she could. The moon hung brightly in the clear sky, and she used its light to see in the coming darkness. Fully alert, she searched the nearing countryside for any signs of craetons.

She pulled in the reins when she heard guttural voices on the road before her. There was a barn nearby so she moved silently behind it. Pan seemed to understand, and kept quiet.

Excited snarls and the rhythmic stomping of feet grew louder, and Rain feared her heartbeat was just as loud. One craeton began to speak, hushing all the others, and from the sound of his voice and the absence of stomping, they had stopped on the other side of the barn. They all grew quiet, and she covered her mouth to smother the sound of her breathing. She placed her other hand over her dress where the aegis lay and pushed it against her skin. Faint warmth emanated from it, soothing her. She stifled a sigh of relief when the gruff voices began again, growing quieter as they continued down the road.

The sound of glass breaking came from a nearby building. Her heart leapt to her throat. She nudged Pan toward the town and saw from the corner of the building that the craetons were at the inn. A scream sounded in the night, and she almost thought she recognized the voice. The creatures began ransacking the building, breaking in windows and smashing down doors and tables, probably looking for something. Possibly her. People she’d grown up with, innocent people, were getting hurt because of her. The best thing she could do for them was run away. She hoped desperately that Willshire wouldn’t turn out like the town in the merchant’s story, where everyone mysteriously disappeared. She worried for Whiskey. But she nudged Pan forward, past the barn and through the last few fields east of Willshire.

Rain nudged Pan into a gallop. She knew she should slow him down for the long journey ahead, but she couldn’t get away from Willshire fast enough. As her heart thumped wildly, imagining craetons seeing and following her, she tightened her grip on the reins.

Scattered trees began to grow closer to one another, and soon she was in the midst of the forest. Shadows lurked behind every thick trunk, and she jumped at the hoot of an owl. She took a shuddering breath and tried to focus on the road. Even familiar woods appeared dubious, hiding dark and fearsome secrets. She shook her head and closed her eyes briefly, focusing on the movement of the horse beneath her.

A chill crept up her spine, and she slowed Pan to a trot. She patted his neck comfortingly, as much for him as for her, and looked behind them into the dim light. There was no one, despite the eyes she felt on her. If you see anyone at all that seems even slightly dangerous, avoid them at all cost. She couldn’t be too careful.

They reached the bridge that spanned Flume Creek, its familiar wooden frame bringing back memories. Years ago, she had traveled this same road in the midst of summer. Her father was meeting someone in Fairfield, and she had come along to see the world outside of Willshire for the first time. Young as she had been, she thought it was rather boring. Yet the one thing that had stuck in her mind was how long the road was, and the fact that she had fallen asleep on the saddle behind her father, the warm sun on her back and the horse’s movements lulling her into slumber.

Pan tripped on a concealed root and she almost slid off the saddle, jolting wide awake.  She had nodded off, still miraculously holding on to the reins. She looked around in the darkness, barely seeing the trees around her, and grew worried. Pan had strayed away from the road. It had to have been just a few minutes, she thought. She slowly led him in the direction that she guessed the road had been.

In the stillness around her, she paused, thinking she heard the snap of a twig in the undergrowth. She whipped her head back but she couldn’t see more than a few feet behind her. Suddenly she wished she had brought a torch or a lantern, even though the darkness was dappled with moonlight. Anything could be following her if they were quiet and traveling at a far enough distance. Finally she saw the road and sighed with relief. She pushed the undergrowth back and squeezed Pan’s sides, telling him to hurry.

***

An uneventful couple of hours later, she heard the thudding of another horse’s gallop far behind her and knew this time she wasn’t imagining things. Through the blackness, a man raced toward her on a dark horse. Before he got close, he drew his sword and attacked another dark shape that she hadn’t seen. It was closer to her than the man was. How had she not seen it?

It snarled. Unmistakably a craeton. She nocked an arrow and tried to aim, but she couldn’t tell if she was aiming at the man or the craeton.

There was the sickening sound of a sword plunging into flesh. A scream ripped through the darkness, and the craeton swung a mace-shaped weapon, nearly missing the man’s head. Another stab and the craeton fell, crumpling into a heap of armor and blood.

The man walked his horse slowly, seeming to search the road for other craetons. He finally made his way back to her, still on his black horse. She slowly let her bowstring slacken. The man was rather young, and could only be slightly older than she was. He studied his sword, the shining metal stained with dark splotches, and his face screwed into a look of disgust.   “Craeton blood,” he murmured. “Awful stuff.” He reached behind him, pulling a stray cloth from his saddlebag, and wiped off the weapon before sheathing it. The cloth seemed to steam at the touch of the inky substance. He threw the cloth onto the ground when he was done and it crumpled into a pile of ash. “I’m sorry if I startled you. My name is Lieutenant Shea, of the Knights of Callaghan.” His voice was deep and strangely soothing.

The Knights of Callaghan were a hand-picked selection of men from the Royal Army of Eastcastle, commissioned to travel and protect Graemar, the lands south of the Fangs and north of Belgrave and the Southern Sea. A few of these men had stayed at the Oak Tree before, and she’d heard strange legends about the real purpose of the Knights. Some said they hunted those who practiced dark magic, but some believed they were only glorified king’s messengers. No one really knew, because they were rarely seen. His apparent age surprised her, for Knights of Callaghan rarely were very young, which people said was due to the heavy training needed for the job. Except for the fact that he seemed to know a lot about craetons, she couldn’t be sure he actually was a Knight. He just seemed like a typical stuck-up nobleman.

“I didn’t need saving,” she huffed. “I knew there was something behind me, and I’m a good shot.”

“I didn’t see you trying to shoot until I came closer. I thought you might hit me on accident,” he said, a teasing tone in his voice. He gathered the reins in his hand. “Did you just come from Willshire?”

“Believe me, I’m a good shot.” She put the arrow back into her quiver and her bow over her shoulder, then started off down the road again, not wanting to talk.

He followed her, walking his horse fast to catch up. “It’s unusual for a young woman to be traveling at night.”

“It’s unusual to see a Knight of Callaghan at all,” she replied. “Please excuse me. I have somewhere I have to be.”

“Let me at least escort you to Fairfield. You don’t seem to realize the danger of the woods.”

“Danger? Are you expecting me to be frightened? Your damsel in distress?” she hissed. “I can take care of myself. I could have shot at it if you hadn’t been in my way.”

“I believe I was the one who saw the craeton and attacked first,” he smirked.

She tried to cool her anger. “Thank you, lieutenant, for saving me back there, but I don’t need any more help.”

“Seeing as I need to travel to Fairfield, and as you seem to be headed there, it’s probably best that we travel together. Dangerous roads these days.”

She shook her head at him in exasperation but let him walk his horse beside hers in silence. It did help her fear of being followed to have a swordsman beside her, whether or not he was a Knight of Callaghan.

***

They rode for another hour or two, Rain determinedly silent, until the forest thinned out and farms came into view. No lights showed in the windows of the houses and barns in the small hours of the morning, but she wished there were. To see lights and civilization would strip some of her lingering fear away. She finally glimpsed the lights of Fairfield in the distance, and a few minutes later they were amidst them.

A light wind blew around them, and fallen leaves stirred on the stone paved streets. She recognized a few buildings from when she had last come here. Most of the windows were dark, and she worried that the people at the inn wouldn’t let her in at such a late hour. There were many more streets in Fairfield than Willshire, and as they walked through them, she wondered exactly where they were going.

She didn’t want to ask him for help, but decided she wouldn’t get anywhere without it. “Lieutenant, I’m looking for an inn called the Mourning Lady.”

He looked at her, surprised. “Really? That’s where I’m headed. It’s not far.”

She sighed. Of course he’d be going to the same inn. At this point she was certain he’d been bluffing about being a Knight. The only thing he had going for him was not being surprised to have seen and killed a craeton.

They turned a corner and she peered down the dimly lit street. A sign hung from a building. It depicted a kneeling woman, hands clasped in desperate prayer, head bowed soberly. A bright moon was painted above her head. The Mourning Lady.

“Here it is,” he said. A stern-faced man stood by the door to the stables, eyes obscured by the dark. He was so still, she was unsure whether he was asleep or staring at them. “Let me deal with him,” the lieutenant said, and she nodded, glad to let him manage things.

He dismounted and walked his horse forward. He spoke quietly, and then the guard nodded his head and opened the door for them. The lieutenant motioned for her to follow, and she dismounted and walked into the stable behind him, passing the guard as he nodded with the briefest of smiles.

They entered the stable and the guard quickly closed the door behind her. The stable was large, housing many more horses than the Oak Tree could. Many of the animals stood sleeping in the stalls. The dim light was produced by a lone lantern, placed on a shelf by the door that led inside. The light was so low that the door she had just come through was partially hidden in darkness.

As they approached the stableman, a skinny fellow with a sleepy expression on his face, the light allowed her to see Shea clearly for the first time. He was well-built, and her guess about his age seemed right. His dark hair was messy, and he wore light leather armor clearly made for traveling.  The bit of stubble on his chin and cheeks framed slightly boyish features. Quite young for a Knight of Callaghan, she confirmed. He was handsome, too. But he was still from the city, probably as stuck up as the rest of them.

Shea gave his horse to the stableman. Rain felt a little warmer now that they were inside, and decided to take off her cloak’s hood. She felt the lieutenant’s eyes on her, probably staring at her hair and ears, like everyone did.

Mercifully breaking the silence, the door to the common room opened to reveal a heavyset man with short brown hair, a beard, and a warm smile.

“Shea, my boy!” he said happily, hurrying forward to give the lieutenant a giant hug. The man seemed completely awake despite his nightgown. He talked fast. “It’s so good to see you. I have news, too. Who’s this pretty young woman? I’m sorry, where are my manners. Welcome to the Mourning Lady, miss! Welcome to Fairfield! I’m Beren, the innkeeper. Come in, please. I’m afraid I can’t give you as wonderful a welcome as usual. There’s strange news from the nearby farms, and business is slow. One or two rooms?”

Rain felt her face get warm, and was thankful no one was looking.

“Separate rooms,” Shea said, composedly.

Rain gave the stableman her horse. “Liam, put the woman’s things in the first room to the right, Shea’s things in the second.” The stableman nodded at Beren, and Rain followed the innkeeper and the lieutenant inside.

“Thank you for taking me in at such a late hour,” Rain said. She looked around the common room, which was also larger than the Oak Tree’s. It was empty of customers, probably because of the late hour, but possibly for lack of business. The fireplace crackled, looking incredibly inviting. She remembered what Whiskey had said. “Beren, do you know a man named Whiskey, from Willshire?”

“Of course I do! Innkeeper of the Oak Tree, yes? You’re a friend of his?”

“Yes, but actually, he’s the bartender. My father is the—” She stopped herself before her mental wall could break, and thankfully Beren continued his chatter.

“Any friend of Whiskey’s is a friend of mine. Good old chap, he is. We have plenty of extra rooms at the moment. Your room is up the stairs to the right, the first door. Shea, yours is the next one over.” He fished around in his nightgown’s pocket. “Here are the keys.”

“Thank you, sir,” Rain said, taking her key. “How much?”

Beren looked at Shea, and she could tell an understanding had passed between them. “No trouble, no trouble. The cost of your stay is covered. Can I get you anything to eat or drink, miss? Shea?”

“I’ll have a mug of your finest,” the lieutenant said. “What about you? Tea? Or are you an ale person like myself?”

Rain felt like everything was happening too fast. “Thank you for—no, I don’t want anything.” Shea just raised his eyebrows. “Fine. Tea.” Their generosity had trapped her into a conversation with him. She just wanted to sleep after her long ride.

“You two make yourselves comfortable then, I’ll be right out.” Beren trotted off to the bar, and Rain was stuck with Lieutenant Shea.