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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.