Young Writers Society

Hal's a doubtful little stick, isn't he?

Before questions are asked ... neither Daeun nor Ianna liked to be questioned, even in the space of a glance. Hence their mild irritation when it comes to Hal. Ah, Hal. :)

~*~

It was reckless. She knew it was reckless, and it made it all the more painful thinking about it, so she didn’t. She felt for the tunnel, and the crack, and used the boy’s directions as best as she could to land in open air and not in a shelf of rock. The darkness trickled away, leaving a craggy passage behind, unmanned and silent.

The Head Thief of J’engar knew no fear, and so she banished hers, feeling for the largest source of magic. It was not, as she initially expected, the well of magic that a body represented, but an enormous warding, engineered not to keep things out but to keep something in. It was the strongest ward she’d ever seen, immense and designed to replicate itself and kill off the older parts, so that there were no weaknesses.

It was ingenious.

She crept uneasily forward, eyes moving from shadow to shadow, but no one presented themselves. It wasn’t till she was nearly upon the warding that she realized it was large enough to encompass the entire facility—and that the guards had a way to get out.

How had Hal gotten out, if he’d been close enough to see Aedaan?

She stared blindly at the air before her, feeling the ward though she could not see it, and searched for anything to explain the odd behavior. She found it in the very fabric of the ward—Aedaan’s essence, barely enough to warrant any notice, but enough so that the ward could block him and no one else.

This Oiden was far, far more than she had pegged him for. It was not a mistake she would make again. So, instead of crossing the border, she vanished and reappeared on the other side, so that the ward was not triggered. There was no change in the ward, and, relieved, she continued on her way.

The dungeon was thick now with guards, traipsing every which way, so she hunkered down amidst broken rocks and garbage to await the changing of the guards. They’d arrived in Serrno in the late afternoon—it’d be many hours before the guards were changed again. No matter. She could be patient.

As midnight inched slowly closer, there was a brief scuffle deep within the tunnels—it soon died down, but it made her uncomfortable. Things were not proceeding as they normally would, that much was clear from the worried looks the guards were sending each other as they passed. Some hours later, a hand descended onto her shoulder, and when she spun around, ready to snap their neck, she found herself glaring into sky blue eyes, and she faltered.

“Dinsatas,” Daeun breathed, smiling. “You always have to do things your way.”

She crouched down again, this time with Daeun beside her. “How did you find me?”

“Anae told me where your anger was coming from,” Daeun whispered. “She told me where you were relative to the others.”

“Good girl,” Ianna observed softly, and settled her back against the wall to wait for the guards to change. “That commotion was you?”

“They’ve got a collapsed wall,” Daeun grinned. “They should learn to keep up with their repairs.”

“And the ward?”

“What ward?” Daeun responded, perplexed.

“There’s a ward surrounding this complex,” she explained, popping up her head enough to watch as the guard who had circled the hall for twelve hours sighed, rubbed at his forehead, and disappeared down a side tunnel. “Come on.”

Together they crept through the tunnels, side-stepping guards as they left and managing to get to the inner hold before the new ones arrived. Once inside, it was clear there was only one cell—designed specifically to keep in one of the world’s most powerful mages.

The cell was inscribed with thousands of ancient marks, full of old magic and power, that together formed yet another unbreakable ward. The door itself was made of gold, the gods’ favorite material, and inscribed with the same writing in miniature. A small barred opening in the door was the only way in that they could see.

She did not hesitate, but flung herself at the door, face pressed against the bars. Inside, she could see the crumpled form of her king, his face bruised worse than before, his hands shaking as he lay on the ground. “Sire,” she whispered sharply, and his head raised, his eyes meeting hers incredulously.

“Nani?” he hissed, raising up with difficulty. He’d been beaten, and harshly, for she could tell by his movements that several of his ribs were broken. “How did you—”

“These wards,” she interrupted. “Have they any weaknesses?”

“They are designed to resist internal damage,” Aedaan responded, focusing. “Not external.”

“Oiden will be alerted the moment they break,” Daeun warned. “You must be fast.”

“I cannot take you with us,” Ianna replied, eyes flicking for a moment towards Daeun. “When we leave, it will be as I left you in the stable.”

“Don’t worry about me,” Daeun urged. “Get him out.”

She nodded and turned back to Aedaan. “I will try to break it from out here,” she whispered to him. “Do the same from where you stand—work on the ward covering this hole here.”

Aedaan raised his hands, and Ianna mimicked him, and for a moment nothing appeared to happen—but then a sharp boom rocked the holding area, the rocks shivering, and the writings on the walls began to glow. Ianna’s face showed strain, though Aedaan’s was as flat and calm as ever, and together they moved slowly closer to press their hands together through the bars. The instant their skin made contact, the door screeched and exploded, leaving an open passage through which Aedaan could cross. He did not hesitate; in another instant, both he and Ianna had evaporated.

The guards shouted warnings, their footsteps thudding through the halls, and Daeun, having no other option, hurried around the exterior of the circular cell to the passage that would take him to the main tunnel. Behind him, guards flooded the second passage, obviously believing he would strike for the felled wall in the opposite corridor.

He did not strive for silence now, but ran full-tilt down the rocky passage till it widened and deepened; behind him, a second shout was sent up, as the guards who had patrolled this tunnel turned to see him fleeing. They were weighed down by heavy armor, however, and he was not, and so he kept easily ahead of them.

The trouble would be the entrance, where no doubt many guards were stationed, and where, he suspected, Oiden would be soon arriving. His lungs burned, and he struggled to keep up the speed as the twin doorway of the entrance loomed ahead.

He burst through, into the sunlight, only to run headfirst into the guard standing before the opening. Using the guard’s surprise to his advantage, he came down hard on the guard’s exposed neck, bursting back into a run when it gave a satisfying crack.

His eyes did not want to adjust to the sunlight, making it hard for him to see, but ahead of him he could make out the mountains, and the buildings of Serrno. If he experienced no more problems, he could make it—he could get to her—

No sooner had those thoughts crossed his mind when hoof beats sounded, and he turned his head in time to see horsemen bearing down on him, swords drawn. He wheezed a few choice words at their expense and turned for the city, hoping to use its closely built buildings and littered roadways to his advantage. The horsemen, however, were faster, and caught up with him before he had even reached the first shabby home.

He dunked as a sword whistled over his head, and ran suddenly for the mountains—but there were many of them, enough to surround him, and he was only met with another sword. He jumped to avoid this one, tackling the rider and sending him flying. Startled, the horse reared, and Daeun slid helplessly back to the ground, hitting hard enough to knock the breath out of him.

He rolled, a spear burying itself in the ground where his head had been, and scrambled away, but there would be no escaping them. He rolled again, reaching for his sword and pulling it free in the same movement, and this time turned to meet his attackers head-on.

They laughed, for even a sword was little insurance against an entire group of soldiers on horseback, and charged him. The horses had hardly taken a step when they all faltered and, as one, toppled to the ground. A scream rent the air, and a black demon whirled in their midst, striking at them maliciously before pulling up short before Daeun.

“Tsuunai!” Daeun breathed, and spent no time at all leaping onto his friend’s back before the soldiers realized what had happened and took action. A few of the men managed to get their horses back up and were urging them forward, but Tsuunai was fast, much faster than their horses could ever hope to be, and disappeared into the city before they were spotted.

Daeun laughed jubilantly. “What would I do without you, Tsuunai?”

Tsuunai rolled an eye at him, exiting the city and following the edge of it to the inn. As they rode, the people came out to watch, silent witnesses to Daeun’s narrow escape. Before they pulled too far away, he saluted them, and each and every one of them solemnly saluted back, just as Hal had promised.

They thundered into the inn’s yard and pulled to a dusty stop, sending dirt flying into the air; Anae gave a happy cry and leapt up into Daeun’s arms before he had hardly dismounted. Over her head he spotted Hal, thin face split in a wide grin, and beyond him Ianna, supporting a weak Aedaan. His smile slipped a little, and he set Anae down to make his way over to Ianna.

“Daeun,” she began, her voice a little unstable.

“I told you not to worry, dinsatas,” Daeun said, before she could say anything further. “How is this king of yours?”

“He was badly beaten,” Ianna murmured, and Aedaan stared silently off into the distance, as if acknowledging the pain was beneath him. “He can barely walk, but we cannot stay in Serrno. The entire city will be searched.”

“We can go over the mountains,” Hal said, though they had not noticed him standing there. “The king never goes into the mountains, and his guards say they’re cursed.”

Daeun looked warily towards the mountains, then back at Aedaan. “We’ll take him in a cot,” Daeun decided. “Tsuunai and I will take him—we can move much faster, and smoother, than your horses.”

“I will not leave him,” Ianna said flatly.

“Tsuunai will not allow you to ride him.” He glanced hesitantly towards the stable, considering, then said uncertainly, “Perhaps if you rode behind me—but it is a chance we will take. If he refuses you, that is all there is to it.”

He turned to call Tsuunai back, but Aedaan’s soft voice called him back. “Talon.”

“Yes, Your Majesty?” Daeun replied, turning only enough to look at him, and no more.

“When,” Aedaan said stiffly, “was it decided that she was your queen?”

Daeun’s eyes flicked to Ianna’s, and then back to Aedaan’s face. “You have no need to answer, Daeun,” Ianna said, before he could speak. “What transpired was the will of the gods.”

“No,” Daeun replied. “He has a right to know—he is who he is.”

Ianna’s eyes darkened perceptibly. “I know who he is. Do not presume to believe I have forgotten.”

“You know that is not what I meant,” Daeun snapped. “Stop twisting my words, dinsatas.”

“Answer me,” Aedaan hissed, as if he had been scalded.

“I answer you because it is my will to do so,” Daeun began. “Recognize this.”

“It is recognized,” Aedaan said impatiently. “Now, speak! Where does a Talon get off speaking to my cousin in such a manner?”

“He loves her, dummy,” a tiny voice said, and Aedaan looked down in surprise at Anae, who stood like a little warrior before Daeun. “Or didn’t you guess?”

“Anae,” Ianna and Daeun said together, glaring down at her.

“What?” Anae demanded. “I’m right, aren’t I?”

“You will speak respectfully, or not at all.” Ianna’s lips pressed stubbornly together. “Promise me this, Anae.”

“Yes, mistress,” Anae said sourly. “Fat lot of good it’ll do if he’s blind.”

“Not everyone is an empath,” Daeun said, amused, as he knocked her lightly on the forehead. “What a terrible little monster you are. How can you ever turn out like Mistress J’engar there if you keep running your mouth like this? I’ll bet she wasn’t half so mouthy.”

“Huh,” Aedaan said, arching an eyebrow. “She was worse.”

Anae’s mouth fell open, and Ianna looked darkly at her cousin. “I fail to see how you are helping.”

“You still have not given me an answer, Talon,” Aedaan said finally. “I am tired, and if we are going to leave, we should do so soon.”

“She is my fire,” Daeun replied, and turned away, leaving them in silence. Anae followed him, running to slip her little hand in his. Aedaan swung his head closer to Ianna’s.

“Does he realize what he has said?” Aedaan asked quietly.

“Of course he does,” Ianna replied, voice soft. “He is Lord Daeun of Genor, and whatever he appears now, he is every bit the king you are, majesty. Besides,” she looked him square in the eye, “who are you to argue with the gods?”

“Who are you to argue with me?” Aedaan retorted. “Ianna, you must think. He is Talon, for gods’ sake.”

“I have thought, and often. The time for regrets is over, majesty—I have loved him too long now to go back on it.”

“And the child?”

“Daeun wants to make her heir, as he has none. He makes no distinction between ranks.” She nodded towards where Caelun and her men were standing with Daeun’s. “That man there, the one with the harsh face. His name is Fenn, and he tried to kill Daeun when he was young. Instead of killing him, he swore a life long oath of allegiance.”

“He has a gift,” Aedaan admitted, as a cot was brought out of the inn and tied to Tsuunai’s saddle. “But he is still Talon. Or do you feel differently, now that you have spent so many long months in their lands?”

“They are people, whatever I thought before, and they have good and they have bad.” She turned him to face the dying, decrepit city of Serrno. “They are a people in need, majesty. They starve and wither and die beneath this king’s hand, and they are desperate. If only you could see Genor now; he has made it into a wonderful city, free of the king’s tyranny. It is a beautiful place to be.”

“What was it before?”

“Dead,” Ianna replied, with certainty. “Just as Serrno is now. The king drained the life out of that noble place until orphans ran the streets in packs and the prisons were filled with people who had done nothing wrong.”

Aedaan shook his head. “You are not as you were, Nani.”

“No,” Ianna agreed. “I’m not.”

She led him to the cot, and laid him gently down; when she covered him with a disguising blanket, both to hide him and to keep him from being hit by dirt and rocks, he said in a low voice, “What is so grand about him, that he could capture the love of my Nani, who swore to burn every Talon alive?”

She looked down at him, puzzled, then up at Daeun, who was turned away, talking to Fenn. For a moment she struggled with herself, before admitting ruefully, “I’m not sure.”

“Fenn will guide the others up the mountain,” Daeun said, making her start, for she had not heard him approach. “Are you all right, dinsatas?”

“A little distracted,” Ianna murmured, avoiding his eyes.

He tapped her cheek with a finger, forcing her eyes up to his. “I need you with me, now. Anull will be furious we have stolen away his prize, and he will take out his rage on anyone he can reach.”

She nodded. “I know.”

They stood, looking at each other, over Aedaan’s cot, and she saw in his eyes a command, or rather a wish to command, and knew that he had been worried about her. He was holding his tongue, though, knowing she would not like nor accept orders from him, and she felt a sudden flash of compassion. “I promise,” Ianna said quietly. “I won’t do that again.”

He looked mildly surprised, but not overly so, she thought; he smiled brilliantly at her. “I know,” he replied, and leaned forward to kiss her lightly, teasingly, before dancing away again. Her cheeks burned; it had been a blatant taunt directed at Aedaan, who was obviously displeased with their closeness. Aedaan made a small sound from beneath his blanket, but otherwise held his silence.

Thankfully.

She swung up behind Daeun, giving Tsuunai no time to consider it, knowing that he would obey his master’s command and not rear with Aedaan in such a vulnerable position behind him—and Tsuunai, though he shook his head dispassionately, did nothing.

“Meet us at the foot of the mountain at sunrise,” Daeun murmured to Fenn, kicking Tsuunai forward. Tsuunai picked up speed, the world beyond them blurring together, and it seemed as if they were flying, for there was no rhythmic bump in his stride. Just as suddenly as they had taken off, they slowed and came to a stop, and Tsuunai’s side were heaving, his coat damp with foamy sweat. The entire journey had taken little over a minute, and yet they had traveled all the way to the base of the mountain, more than half a day’s journey at full gallop.

“Amazing,” Ianna breathed, and Tsuunai gave a small, carefully judged prance, obviously pleased by the praise.

“There,” Daeun said, pointing to a thick shelf of stone and underbrush. “We’ll make camp there.”

As it would turn out, the underbrush hid a deep pocket in the side of the mountain that formed a kind of shallow cave, one so well hidden from passing travelers that had they not gone searching through it they would have never known it was there. The rock face hung over it some distance, giving them substantial shelter that would hide even the horses.

While Ianna made camp, Daeun went out to wait for their men, sitting on the branch of a tree, swinging his legs. This lookout also served as guard duty, so that if anyone—like, for instance, the Gaenu, the king’s private and most deadly army—tried to find them Ianna and Aedaan could be long gone. He’d stay behind and pretend to be a peddler, he mused, and show off his royal gold pieces like some bounty he’d nicked off a fat merchant. The soldiers would laugh and rob him and maybe hit him a few times, but they’d leave him alone for the most part.

Then again, if they were Gaenu, they’d probably kill him for the fun of it.

As the night dragged on, he began to think about what they were going to do with the J’engar king. Back in Serrno, his only thought had been to get him away from Anull, but it was becoming increasingly clear that they needed a plan. Could he be moved back to J’engar in the way that he’d been moved from his prison? If not, where could they take him in the meantime? Not to Tvaar—he’d be taken within hours, no matter how good they were. Bano, maybe. The safest place would be Genor, but it’d take a week, if not more, to get there, especially with Aedaan in the shape he was in. They needed a safe house, someplace Anull would never look.

His eyes turned, of their own accord, to the mountain they were seeking to use as cover for the time being—and then up, deep into the mountain range. It’d be difficult, with a wounded man and a child, but they could do it.

“What do you think, Tsuunai?” he asked, as the quiet tip-tip of Tsuunai’s plate-sized hooves came from behind him. “Is there anywhere up there we could hide him?”

To his surprise, Tsuunai nodded, black eyes looking brightly up at him.

“Could you take us there?” Another nod. “Thank you, Tsuunai.”

Tsuunai tossed his head a little, and with a playful snort turned round again and headed back to the cave. He’d never understand that horse, never. Not that it was really within him to understand a horse so obviously possessing great magicks.

They arrived not at sunrise but an hour later, for behind them rode a string of men, loaded with weapons. The men did not appear to be forcing them on, for the weapons were all sheathed and put away, and one or two of them were talking companionably with Hal. Deciding they were friendly, Daeun dropped out of the tree and advanced towards them. Caelun spotted him first, and led them over.

“We’re under an overhang, behind those trees,” Daeun said, as soon as Caelun was within hearing range.

“The path through the mountains is—” Hal began, but Daeun held up his hand.

“There is a secret place, where we may keep the High King safe,” Daeun interrupted. “I will take us there.”

“In the mountains, m’lord?” Hal asked, eyes wide. “But what if the tales are true, and they really are cursed?”

“Come now, boy,” Caelun said contemptuously. “Do you honestly think His Lordship would lead us into a cursed mountain?”

Hal colored indignantly. “No, but—”

“Caron, Sacchid,” Daeun commanded. “Go help Her Majesty if at all possible. As for you,” Daeun said to Hal, “I dislike being questioned. If you can’t trust me, go home.”

Hal’s jaw clenched stubbornly. “I trust you, m’lord.”

“Prove it,” Daeun snapped, and strode stiffly back towards the cave.