SAELYNA
My alternative route inevitably takes me through the major parts of the village. I try to remember what Halden had looked like before the Rebellion. It's harder these days. The memories now come in snatches and bits, but enough for me to know the place has changed by a great margin.
It used to be a giant sprawling town, the majority of its inhabitants being elves. We were of one mind, united by our magic. Unlike others in Quindar who had to be bound to certain animal spirits in order to channel magic, we derived ours from plants, the best of them being on Mount Ides.
I remember the songs and the dances performed before spring fires, the annual hunts and the pilgrimage to Mount Ides for our magic renewal, and evenings like this, when my parents would take us to the town hall to watch a play or two. Halden was among the last towns before the Borderlands, and among the largest in the north.
Until some genius decided that we were too strong to be ruled by some "deer-spirit-channeling twat", as my father had quoted him. I don't know what triggered the war that followed. No one remembers, or no one wants to.
What we do remember is the fire and the blood. The pillage, the slaughter. They carry on daily activities, like everything is fine, like it never happened, but I can see beyond those masks. We all lost things, people, memories, and that had breeded rage that lies dormant. For now.
I'm almost out of the village when I bump into Daena Demar. A tall, dark girl with curly hair that curls my toe with envy, she's an old friend. She was the first person I found in the rubble after the deer-genn soldiers ravaged the town that fateful night. The second was my mother, her black, charred body curled protectively over Cyran.
I smile at her, but she doesn't smile back. Oh oh. 'Where were you?!' she snaps. 'Good evening to you too, Daena', I say smoothly. 'Cut the crap. You and Cyran left without us? I mean, you've done that before but come on. It's becoming a nasty habit'. I rub my temple with a sigh. She's right. It's a third time I've done that. 'Sorry. I had a little headache', I tell her. It's half-true, but it'll do. 'Right', she says doubtfully, then reaches for my bottle of malt wine. 'Hey…!' But it's fruitless; she's already downed half of the bottle.
I'm about to pout and complain about her gulping down my painkiller, but I notice her eyes are unfocused. Like she's seen something particularly traumatic.
'Are you ok? You don't look…well', I venture. 'You would have known all about it if you had actually waited up..but you're right. We witnessed some…very unsettling sight'. I raise my brows. 'What? What happened?' She takes another swig and shakes her head, making those beautiful curls bounce about. 'Come. Not here. I'm heading over to Camille's place. I need some dye of hers'. I consider arguing that I need to get home on time, but I'm almost done with the book I borrowed from the library last week, and Cyran would be out hunting, so a while with Daena would not hurt. And she certainly looks somewhat traumatized.
We walk back down the path, through the streets as mothers call their children in, and men return from bars or head towards them. It hits me now that the last elves in the village are all below the age group of 25, essentially youths. It should bother me, but for some reason, I shove it aside. For now.
Camille lives with her uncle, Master Harold, an elder of the village council, and the most influential man in the village (though I think that position would be challenged now that Elwyn is around). They live in a farmhouse on the other side of the village, way across from mine. I really hope this is worth my time.
She's feeding the chickens when we arrive. 'Hey, Cam. Did you get the dye like I asked?' Daena calls. She looks up at us and grins lopsidedly. Something is up. 'Yes, yes'. She reaches inside her apron, takes out a small pouch and tosses it at Daena.
'Daena said you all saw something in the woods. What is it?', I ask when we all sit on the bench beside the house. Camille shakes her head. 'It was horrible, Saelyn. I still can't unsee it', she mutters and clutches her apron. Daena nods. 'We stumbled on a bunch of dead patrol guards in the forest on our way back', she says, 'They were ripped apart. Like an animal got them'. 'Not just an animal', squeaked Camille. She looks up, at the barn in the distance. Voices float from within, barely decipherable, but they're soft enough for me to know it's the village council. 'Uncle thinks its a ravener, Saelyn. Raveners are in Halden', she whimpers.
Raveners. Folden had mentioned it back at the bar. If they were in Halden…
I try to imagine why the bodies must have looked like, and immediately wish I hadn't tried. I've seen a picture of a wolfen's victim in one of the books from the library. And I have seen pictures of themselves.
Humans can channel certain animal spirits like hares, moose and deer which is the king's genn. Occasionally, someone would channel something odious like a snake or a panther. Ultimately, it makes the person unstable and difficult to fathom or control, much like their genns.
But a wolf? It's abominable. If Quindar agrees on one thing to fear, it's the wolves and their channelers, the wolfens. The beasts that had raided half the kingdom after they sealed a pact with the elves in their rebellion. They destroy. That's all they do.
But what are they doing back in Halden?
I stare at Camille's pale face and I realize I should be scared as well. But I can't afford to be. Not now.
'I'm sure the elders will have something to do with that. Surely, the patrol…' Daena scoffs. 'Patrol? Did you hear what we said? Four of them were dismembered, Saelyn. Halden is not safe. And I doubt the king would be bothered with our cause'. She tosses a stone into the duck pond, and we watch the ripples spread out in undulating waves. 'I guess we should arm ourselves now?' Camille squeaked. I shrug. Since that night, Cyran and I have always slept with a dagger in our girdles, and I place my hand on mine. It reassures me somewhat. 'I'm sure this, like all the others, is going to pass', I say, trying my best to be calm, 'We could….'
A flash of pain stabs at my chest, deep and blinding. I gasp and fall to the ground in a crouch, blinking out tears that gather at the edge of my vision. I can hear Daena call out my name, and Camille is reaching for me, but all I can really decipher is that Cyran is in serious danger.
The pain surges again, and I know every second is precious. 'Camille, I need Tarek', I gasp. 'What?' 'Tarek!' I hiss, 'Now, Cyran is in danger!' Her eyes widen at the sound of his name and she whistles loudly. Tarek, the large black stallion, comes bounding out of the stable towards us. Camille helps me get on its unsaddled back, and I whistle for it to run as though all hell has been let loose.
CYRAN
It's a wolfen's stab, so it's supposed to be painful, but Gods above, this is torture. Each heave of my lungs in an attempt to draw breath rips through my body, draws blood from the wound. I can't bear to look at it. No plant is at hand for me to harness its magic for healing. I have little knowledge of that art, anyway, and if I did, it would be suicide to so so.
So I lie here, on the steps of the cottage, listening the beat of my heart as it steadily slows down, and I call for my sister.
CYRANThe sound of galloping hooves reach my ears, long before the horse and its rider pull up in front of the cottage. 'Cyran!'Oh hell, it's her.Given the circumstances, I'm supposed to be grateful or something, but it occurs to me that Saelyna would try to heal me with magic. I know the wound has gone too far; I've bled out excessively, and I can't feel my arms. Anytime now, I'll go into shock.She crouches by my side, tapping my face in a bid to keep me awake. 'Cyran, look at me'. Her face swims in and out of my distorted vision. 'You're beautiful, Saelyn. You're the best of us', I tell her. I don't know if I mean it or not. I just have to tell her. 'Shut up, Cyran, shut up', she mutters, though her voice quivers too much. Then she yells out for help, loud enough to wake the forest. 'I have forgiven you, Saelyna. Don't beat yourself up over it anymore. I've done a lot of nasty things too, but you always covered up for me. You don't have to be the perfect one…' I cough out a gob o
SAELYNAThe row of sycamore trees that line the top of Halden Hill used to be a spot where town folk gathered in the evenings to relax and get together. Here, it's peaceful, especially at night. A clear view of the village is offered from this point, and one can see just enough of every corner of Halden. I dig my left toe into the grassy soil and twist up earth. I've been here for half an hour, but it's starting to feel like forever. I've bitten my nails to the stub, I can't mess with my hair any longer, so I'm on the edge of going wild with apprehension. A sudden sound makes me jump and turn around. Someone is coming up the hill, slowly and deliberately. I duck around a tree, listening to my heart thumping wildly, as he summits the crest. He's wearing a black hood and a cloak. They've found me, then. The mages have tracked the magic. I brace myself to bolt at the slightest slip. I can't outrun a mage, but I have the advantage here, given that I'm an elf. I'm about to spring down t
SAELYNACyran places a finger on his lips when our eyes meet. He doesn't need to tell me. Even Ima has gone dead silent.Floorboards creak as whoever it is walks into the house. My palms tingle with anticipation and magic. Cyran is crouched by the doorway, his bow and arrow in place. Nothing moves except the intruder in the kitchen.Then Camille stumbles into the kitchen and I release a breath. Cyran frowns upon spotting her. 'What are you doing here?' he growls. Her face flushes on spotting his annoyed expression. 'Sorry. Just wanted to say farewell. Quain told me…' She shakes her head and holds my gaze for a while before she grabs me in a bone-crushing hug. 'You're one of the best persons I know, Sae. Please stay safe and strong', she sobs.I've had my fill of crying for one night so I gently push her away. 'Ima', I say, 'Please take care of her'. Camille nods quickly. I know she will, we brought the panther up together. I rub Ima's ears one last time, and square my shoulders. 'See
On the bright side, we are not dead. Worst case scenario, we don't know where we are. But Xanwed hasn't gotten us, that much is certain.Cyran is awake, and looking at me with a queer expression. 'What is it?' I ask, sitting up. It requires a lot of effort than usual, and a headache begins as I do. 'I saw your dream again', he says quietly. 'Cyran, you said you'd stop', I say resignedly. 'I did stop. Last night it just filtered in. Your mind is fucked up, Saelyna'. I don't want to talk about the crazy dream I had, where Jerran and I were back together. The twist was that we both were wolf-genn.Most times I try not to think about the guy that jilted me. Other times, I bring myself to. That way I have someone to blame everything on. That way, I can allow myself to feel emotion.I take time to examine our prison. It's a room, but it has six corners and the air inside here is colder than usual. For some reason as well, I can't summon the magic like I did back in the woods. And I can't se
SAELYNAHe looks different. The coat's still black as night, but his hair is slicker and everything about him seems forced. He smells like Elwyn.I don't trust the smile he gives me, it's too casual, too fake. Too wolfish. I knew I'd see him again. I never imagined it would be like this. I never thought he'd be a wolfen.I dust my bottoms as I stand up. If I have to escape, I have to give him the benefit of the doubt. And be a good actor. 'A settlement of wolvens', I say, 'I presume we are here to be eaten, then'. A muscle ticks in his jaw, and the smile falters a little. 'Ok', he replies, the fake smile still in place, 'I have somewhere to be, so…do what you like, which is not much, considering the circumstances. I don't care, not really'.He turns to go, which is quite fine by me, but Cyran calls out and rises. 'Do not be offended by my sister. She's…well, just not on terms with wolvens kidnapping elves'. The man in black waves a dismissive hand. 'Whatever you think, I already care
CYRAN I take steps torward him, attempting to put myself between him and my sister, when Caivan rounds on him in a flash. 'Where were you?!' he snarls, 'And why the fuck would you keep them in the store room like animals?!' The silver coated man doesn't flinch, he stares at Caivan squarely, assuming a straighter stance. 'Instinct. Precaution against possible escape. Perhaps if you were here in person, you would have done it your way…' He doesn't finish. Caivan moves like lightening, grabbing him by the throat and pinning him to the wall of a nearby hut. Struggle as he could, he could not get the larger man's hand off his jugular. 'I let you go once. Cross me again, Ronn, and there'll be no third chances', Caivan says calmly, like he was having a lively conversation and wasn't choking a person. The sight is horribly satisfying, because I see the fear in his eyes, the same one he must have seen in mine. 'Caivan, enough!' snaps Veesa. He holds on for three seconds longer before he relea
SAELYNAThe first arrow misses the mark. I draw another and fire. It misses as well, and I kick the bow in frustration. Cyran is doing fine. He's the best at what he does. He nocks the arrow deftly, raises it up to eye level and aims. When he lets it go, it travels twice as fast as mine does, and strikes the red dot on the tree. 'The easiest thing in the world', he says when he sees me watching, 'I wonder why this isn't a sport in Quindar'. I stick my tongue out at him and draw another arrow from the stack on the ground. I try to imitate his adroitness, his stance, but it's hopeless. The arrow misses the red dot and the tree entirely. I curse loudly and toss the bow to the ground. 'Easy now, lest you vex Archon'. Dad emerges from the cottage behind me, his own bow in hand. He is a tall man, too tall for an elf, and he sports a green coat that matches his eyes. He walks down the steps and approaches me, picks up an arrow and nocks it in his bow. 'The key to being a perfect archer, i
CYRANI'm finally convinced to take a bath by Veesa. 'She'll be out for a long while, a few hours at most, but she'll be fine', she said, 'Go on. A bath and a hot meal will do you a lot of good'. She drew the curtains, then left the hall without much coercion, and I knew she was right. I was barely standing, and my stomach rumbled now and then. So I followed her to a large hut, a sauna of sorts behind the hall, down by a creek below the village. Water was already drawn for a bath, a steaming pool in the middle of the room. Then she left me alone to bath.I immerse myself in the thermal water, savoring the heat and the steam. I could sit here forever in this hot pool, but I still worry about Saelyna, so I hurry about scrubbing and washing. My hair particularly gives me trouble; it's grown longer and unchecked down my neck. I make a mental note to get a haircut at the slightest chance as I scrub out dirt that joins the rest of my body's grime in staining the water. I spin around sharpl