The smell of the forge choked the air around Valinos. Fizzling steam and smoke seared the chamber. He had learned to love the heat of the armoury, but today, the fire only served to heighten the rage of the one who towered over him. The man was silhouetted by the steam of a blade he had not finished tempering. Valinos cowered, hand held to his cheek where a fresh wound blazed.
It was the first time Paran had struck anything other than iron.
‘Never ask me about that again, Val. Ever.’ The armourer’s voice punctuated like a hammered anvil.
‘I’m sorry,’ Valinos whimpered through the stinging pain. ‘It’s just… some of the kids have been saying that Asphales’ parents disappeared because they’re like mine and I can’t help wondering why—’
‘Stop!’ Paran roared, stepping closer. ‘I will not have you remind me of those things! You know full well what sort of people they were. They left you.’
Valinos cut off the question that had burned hotter than the forges in the workshop.
The armourer leaned forward. His face was close, his voice low and focused. ‘For thirteen years I have raised you. I took you in when no one else would. I endured the shame and dishonour you brought me, because I wanted a son. And this is how you repay me? You don’t have a place out there! You stay here with me. With your father.’
Valinos could only stare with frightened eyes. Paran held his gaze for a long while, and then finally backed off. He roamed around the workshop, raving. ‘Ah, Liliah, what have I done all these years without you?’ The armourer knocked several items over, helms and breastplates being readied for deployment to Fara’ethar. ‘I’m sorry, my son,’ Paran said resignedly, facing away from him. ‘Get back to work.’
In that moment, cold realisation crept on Valinos.
They all hate me. This entire blasted town and everyone in it.
Valinos ran out of the armoury, tears filling his eyes and anger welling in his heart.
I have no place here…
The memory faded like a flash of lightning, a different scene left in its blinding afterimage. The enclosing walls of the Hall’s antechamber. The military heads of Fara’ethar staring at him as if he were an intruding stain to be gawked at. Darius’ menacing gaze locked on him, eyes flashing with a pent up rage. The reminder of a departed company captain hanging in the air.
‘Were you not his commander?’ Valinos braved the question. ‘Where were you?’ He tried his hardest not to shake. He could not remember how this conversation had started, but Valinos knew he needed to get this off his chest. ‘Why did you let Ledner die?’
Darius stood up off his chair and stepped forward. ‘Are you angry?’ he asked. His tone seemed as disinterested as frigid winter.
‘Where were you when the company needed their Amarant?’ Valinos sputtered the words. He had become sick of this gathering. He was no longer the scared little boy, cowering before an oppressive father figure. He was no longer in a town which did not need him. And yet he felt as out of place and unheeded as ever. ‘Don’t you realise something is going on here, with the company, with Shurun’el? Yes, I am angry.’
Darius simply shook his head.
‘I know you are concerned with the events that transpired on your trip here,’ Leara offered, ‘but it is simply unbelievable that one of our own messenger eagles would be involved.’
‘But still we stand here and seemingly do nothing!’ Valinos snapped.
‘Valinos, please,’ Nadros said pleadingly. ‘We’ve only just—’
‘You are the one blind to what is happening, boy,’ said Darius. ‘This meeting is far bigger than you think. It’s not just about a company, not just about two commoners from some backwater town. You have a right to be angry, but your anger is misplaced. Amaleron is concerned about the return of the Dragonking. Do you understand? The Elders’ seal is weakening and—’
‘The Elders?’ Valinos spat. ‘I’ve had enough of those stories,’ he groaned. ‘What good is it worrying about the dangers of some fantasy when there is death right here? You’re meant to protect the life around you, not bury your head in some far off dream.’
‘Tread carefully,’ Darius said slowly, each word leaping like a spark. Tension seemed to coil in the room, ready to break. But Valinos could not back down.
‘I don’t want to believe Amaleron is a fool, but why the fixation on the Elders? Even if what the stories say is true, they abandoned Anardes! They left it to—’
Valinos never finished his sentence. Darius sprung off his position and clutched Valinos by the collar of his doublet. In moments, Valinos was pinned to the ground. The Amarant was poised over him, his arms afire with strength. The man’s painful grip dug into Valinos’ shoulders.
‘Darius, what are you doing?’ Valinos heard someone yelp. But he was too fixated on the man over him. The Amarant glowered. But the eyes that held him down were cold. Colder than his own. They were eyes belonging to one who had seen more, done more, killed more…
‘You know nothing of real rage, boy,’ Darius forced through the struggle. ‘You only know an anger that gently passes like a wind. You know nothing of fury which seeps into your bones like a winter cold. Of anger that becomes your lifeblood. Of fear which keeps you up at night and awakens you with sickness and dread.’
At some point in the Amarant’s deluge of words, there was a crash as if a door opened somewhere.
‘I pray you never do,’ Darius finished with a whisper.
‘Amarant Darius, what in the name of Regulus are you doing?!’ a voice bellowed.
Darius turned to face the voice. Amaleron and Asphales had returned from behind the doors to the main section of the Hall. The Amarant’s grip loosened and he stood up. Valinos caught a glimpse of his friend. Even from afar, there was concern written on his face. And yet an intriguing detail captured Valinos’ attention. A sword which Asphales now carried. That was not Anfrìr… Other faces looked on, terrified and confused. The moment passed.
Never ask about that again, a distant voice drummed.
Valinos fumed. Embarrassed, humiliated, and angry, he rose without another word and dashed through the entryway, out into the courtyard.
The outside air did little to help Valinos’ mood, if only providing more space for his sullenness to spread beyond the confines of the Hall’s chamber. The grey hung around him like a mist, frustrating questions and frustrated thoughts jostling in his mind. What was he doing here? What was his purpose? He felt the aimlessness again, choking and straining him, like a miserable cloud that would not settle or go away. Driven onward to nowhere.
But perhaps what stung most was the shattered armour of his pride. The events and sights of the last few days had demolished Valinos’ preconceptions. The world was not as he thought. He had disdained fantasies and dismissed Asphales’ daydreams. That had provided some identity. Valinos believed he had figured things out and seen a glimmer of a world in which he may find his place one day. But it seemed not. Perhaps he should have expected this.
One more shift in the wind, one more sudden storm to overtake him. That’s all this was.
It grated at him, and his wounded pride ate away whatever comfort had built up on the journey to Fara’ethar. So Valinos wandered, walking in no particular direction. He put steps between himself and the Hall of the Elders, and yet the thoughts were always on his heels. He quickened his pace, his steps falling on the pavement like drizzling rain. A gloomy patch in a clear day. Servants scuttled about the courtyard of the castle, each one busy and filled with purpose. Every last one taking action.
An idea struck him.
He approached one of the passing servants, a woman of middle age. ‘Excuse me,’ he chimed, his tone unassuming. ‘Where can I find the messenger birds?’ He hoped she understood his vagueness.
‘Ah, new to Fara’ethar, master?’ she queried. ‘You must mean Birdswatch. You’ll find it in the north-eastern Tower. The overpass is just beyond the palace gardens. Ask for master Hasel.’ As soon as she finished giving directions, the servant-woman returned to her duties, like a busy ant joining the droning of the nest.
Valinos recalled passing by the gardens the previous night, when Ithilìr had led them to the dormitories, so he quickly backtracked to the alleyway on the eastern side of the main hall. Sure enough, near the wall, past the hedges and flower bushes, an entrance stationed with several guards stood, almost concealed into the castle grey. Valinos hurried on toward the tower, half-expecting to be pursued by more than just his thoughts.
None of the soldiers seemed to mind when he entered through the tower gate. He ascended several flights of stairs and an opening in the keep led out to the parapets. Several groups of soldiers were overseeing the castle grounds from vantage points around the castle wall. But Valinos’ attention was drawn to a portion of the wall which jutted out from the rest of the enclosure like a branch offshoot. The overpass, as the servant lady called it, traversed over sheer cliff and led to a larger tower in the distance, some hundred feet away. Valinos stepped out on the parapet and walked toward the place where the Empire’s messengers roosted. It seemed to have a large open platform in its upper storey, but beyond that and the hay-covered roof, it was of the same cast as the other towers.
As Valinos paced the wall walk, he peered over the embrasure and glimpsed the castle’s foundations perched on the cliff. Far below, bedrock climbed out of the raging sea and held the structure in place. While Valinos had never had a fear of heights, the sight of the sea in turmoil was not particularly pleasant. Looking into the distance he saw vast fields and far valleys, tipped by the distant Undorn Mountains like teeth in the earth’s jaws. Perhaps it was just a trick of the morning light, but patches in the fields looked… black. Exposed stones and long stretches of grass were haphazardly tainted by splotches of black, like ink stains.
He turned from the peculiar sight, distracted by the whistling wind. Valinos closed his eyes and inhaled, for a moment synching his breath with that belonging to the sky. He sunk into the silent song. The breeze felt different now. It played with his shorter hair, and it carried new scents in this part of the world. When Valinos opened his eyes, the Sundered came into view. Distant rocks and ridges, suspended specks against the splash of blue. He felt an ineffable longing, but he pushed it away. It was better to focus on something attainable. Valinos would have liked to dare and dream, but nothing in his life had proven it was worth it.
Slowly, other sounds and colours bled back into focus. Chattering guards, footsteps, roiling waves, the ceaseless grey and enveloping green. Valinos came to and redoubled his pace to Birdswatch. He pushed past more groups of armed men and entered the keep itself. It was time to find answers. Time to take action and discover exactly how that fateful morning had come about.
It was quieter inside. The walls dampened the ocean’s roar to a muted mumble. The wind’s tune was not allowed in here, either, it seemed. The first chamber consisted of a simple desk, strewn with various ledgers, and a number of undistinguished chairs thrown almost at random. There was no sign of a keeper. Perhaps Hasel was upstairs on the viewing platform, if he was on duty at all, Valinos thought.
He waited a moment, but nothing stirred. No one arrived. When his impatience became louder than the consuming silence, Valinos went up the stairs. The wooden steps complained under his weight, but he pressed on, spiralling around higher up the tower. Eventually the platform he had seen from below opened up.
And the sight took his breath away.
Rows of cages lined the open space of the platform. Dozens of birds flitted about in their holdings or ate from feeding troughs. Aside from storage boxes which rested against a makeshift wall comprised of wooden boards, nothing else obscured the birdcages. Hawks and pigeons of all sizes and colours were kept inside. Valinos admired every detail of the flying creatures, from the talons which gripped metal railings, beaks which broke through seed and corn shells, to their plumage, coating them with lustrous pride.
He could not think of another way to describe what he saw. Birdswatch had the smell of the sky about it. The welcomeness of the open air.
As he walked on, Valinos noticed three spots toward the end of the ramp. They looked like cradles, but were clearly designed to host avian guests. Three pallets of like construction teetered close to the edge of the platform, overlooking the land beyond. Probably to allow the messenger birds easy take off.
One, however, was far larger than the others. It was occupied.
A grand, golden-brown eagle of unnatural size roosted contently. Piercing golden eyes. Bone-white crown around its head.
Gidius.
Valinos took a step forward, but was halted by a sound from the creature. A shriek sounded forth, a cry that cut through the day like a deafening horn of war. Valinos felt it. He froze. This was a sound of the sky in all its wild terror.
‘Don’t be so impatient, Gidius!’ a voice called out. It was like the day which hugged the welkin heights, tinged with life and sunlight. ‘Your food is coming!’
Valinos spun, alarmed that someone else was here. The voice had not sounded like it belonged to the old man who ran this place. It was energetic, youthful, and feminine. He was unsure what to do, suddenly feeling as if he had trespassed.
Footsteps approached. Then there was a yelp and a loud crash from behind the board wall. Several birds in nearby cages fluttered nervously, startled by the sound. Groans and mumbles floated from behind the contraption. Valinos spotted birdseed spilled out and raw fish flopped on the ground.
‘Are you alright?’ he called uncertainly to whoever had collapsed. This keeper of birds seemed very clumsy.
‘Oh, I didn’t know you were back,’ the voice answered. ‘Yeah, I’m fine. Nothing broken, nothing sprained. It’s still a good day!’
Valinos did not have time to ponder those words for long, confused as they were, before the figure stepped out. And whoever it was that Valinos expected to see, it was not her.
A young woman emerged with a maladroit step, dodging the food which had amassed on the floor. Dressed in sky blue and pale yellow, her simple pleated skirt and modest top befitted a servant of the air’s messengers.
‘This is going to be a nightmare to clean up,’ the girl said, agitated. She threw her hands up in exasperation and circled the mess. She finally turned to Valinos. ‘I’m so sorry—oh, you’re not…’ she said, stunned like a placid deer before a hunter.
Valinos was staring into wide eyes which sheened like garnets of dazzling brown. Dark blonde hair, knitted into long braids, swept around her face as she turned. She was at least a head shorter than Valinos, so she looked up at him. Frozen. Innocent. After a long moment, she instinctively tucked a plait behind her ear and glanced away.
They both tried to speak at once.
All that came out was a jumble of words, the mingling of timid voices.
They both shied away in silence.
‘I apologise,’ the girl said, tearing through the near awkwardness. ‘How terribly rude of me to glare. Please, forgive the mess.’ She looked around apologetically. Then she turned back to him and beamed a smile. ‘Welcome to Birdswatch.’
With those words, with that smile, the woman emanated bouncy playfulness and carefreeness, and yet a genuine affection and devotion to her tasks. Valinos forgot the things that had been eating away at him. His rage melted like snow before the steady march of the sun. Frustration evaporated like mist at morn’s dawn.
‘And you are?’ she asked. Valinos almost missed the question.
‘Ah, Valinos of Silnodìr,’ he said. The words nearly caught in his throat. ‘I’ve just recently arrived here in Fara’ethar.’
‘Silnodìr!’ she exclaimed. ‘You’ve come a long way. And I believe we’ve sent messengers there not long ago. What is it like? I’ve always wanted to visit the Silent Sea.’
‘Oh, well…’ Valinos began.
‘I’m sorry!’ she burst once more. ‘Pardon my impropriety. My name is Fen’asel.’ She curtsied politely. ‘Keeper of Birdswatch. Well, sort of. I work with my father Hasel. He runs the place.’
‘M-my pleasure,’ Valinos stammered, uncertain how to respond to the girl’s liveliness. ‘I was actually looking for him. I have business here. With your father, I mean.’
‘Is that so?’ Fen’asel queried. ‘He’s not here right now, I’m afraid. Have you signed the ledger at the entrance? When he comes back, he’ll know someone is looking for him.’
‘No, I haven’t,’ Valinos admitted.
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Fen’asel put up her finger, as if delivering an oft-repeated lecture. ‘All visitors to Birdswatch must write their name in the registry, Valinos.’
‘I’d rather not have it be known that I was here.’
‘My father would not be pleased if we broke protocol,’ she insisted. ‘Come along now.’
Before Valinos could object, Fen’asel took hold of his hand and made for the steps. Not wishing to offend her, he did not resist. The two rushed down to the entrance room, each wooden step they passed over creaking and complaining louder than before. Fen’asel took him to the desk he had spotted earlier. Papers and pens lay strewn across the craggy surface.
‘Sign there, please,’ she said, pointing to a columned sheet of paper and handing him a quill.
Valinos strode up to the desk and wrote his name into the ledger. As he dropped the quill, his attention fixed on something. ‘Are these all the previously sent messengers from Birdswatch?’ he asked.
‘Yes. We keep a record of every message sent out.’
Valinos scanned the ledger eagerly. The list displayed all the messenger birds sent to various places and a summary of their contents, most recently to a place named Taeladran. Higher up the sheet, Silnodìr featured several times, showing periodic orders of military equipment. One entry, however, stood out.
Eighth day of Lonoris. Silnodìr. Gidius.
Suspiciously, the section outlining the contents was blank.
Valinos eyed the entry. Consumed. Confused. There was no doubt, however, that this was the notice which had brought him from Silnodìr. These six words had changed his life. But why had Amaleron expressed no knowledge of it being delivered?
‘Valinos?’ Fen’asel asked, leaning closer.
He snapped to, quickly averted his gaze, and shuffled the papers as if to hide what he had been looking at.
Fen’asel chuckled. ‘You seem very interested. Would you like a tour of the Nest?’ Valinos turned and met a smiling Fen’asel. She was offering her hand once again. He took it.
In moments, they were back up on the platform, walking amongst the birdcages. In the meantime, two other eagles had arrived and now nested in their respective pallets, on either side of Gidius. They were much smaller, and did not have the curious marrow which circled the crown of the larger eagle’s head. Valinos looked at them for a moment, and then shifted his attention back to Fen’asel, who was explaining the messaging system.
‘We use royal pigeons, crows, or hawks for common correspondence,’ she was saying as they passed rows of birds in their cages. ‘They work well for shorter distances and messages which don’t require urgency. They can also be used by anyone. You don’t need authorisation to use the basic messenger. You can send letters, notes, and even small gifts… as long as you sign in.’ Fen’asel gave him a significant look with those last words.
Valinos nodded. ‘And the eagles?’
‘Well, for longer distances and more arduous journeys we use one of our three eagles. They’re more trustworthy with important messages and are invaluable in times of war. Since there are so few, use of the eagles is limited to the Amarants and their sub-commanders. And Amaleron and my father Hasel, of course.’
‘So that’s who they answer to?’
Fen’asel nodded with a smile. ‘Not to me, unfortunately.’
Valinos acknowledged her words. So the list of people who could have sent that message narrowed to fewer than ten persons. Since almost everyone present at the morning’s council had denied awareness of the message, that left an even smaller pool.
Fen’asel moved closer to the eagles, which were contentedly grooming their feathers. ‘That’s Nagìn,’ she said, pointing to a reddy-brown one. ‘And Kanthas,’ she explained, gesturing to a grey eagle across the platform.
‘And Gidius?’
‘He’s our most reliable and speedy messenger. But he’s also untameable. He often goes away, sometimes for days at a time. I guess that’s to be expected of a Great-eagle. Their kind were ferocious and wild. But he always comes back.’
‘Are they not around anymore?’ Valinos asked.
‘None except Gidius have been spotted in a long time. Gidius himself was employed, oh about eleven or twelve years ago. We don’t know whether they’ve migrated or… Anyway, Gidius is my favourite. Isn’t he wonderful?’
‘He’s certainly something,’ Valinos said with a sigh. ‘I’ve already had a run-in with him.’
‘Ah, how do you know Gidius?’ she asked curiously.
‘Well, you see, I’m the one he came for when I was in Silnodìr.’
Fen’asel tilted her head, intrigued. ‘And what were you brought here for?’
Valinos was quiet for a moment. ‘I don’t know,’ he admitted. ‘That’s why… that’s why I was looking through the ledgers earlier. I was hoping to find some answers. Though, I’m glad I’m out of Silnodìr… I just wish I knew what for.’
‘Oh, didn’t you like it there? I’ve heard the fishing is nice.’
‘I never felt like I belonged in that town,’ he said, looking away from her. ‘I just… I want to know where I’m meant to be.’
Perhaps something resonated with Fen’asel, for when Valinos braved a glance at her, a thin veil of recognition passed by her face. Something other than her easy-going smile.
‘It’s not always easy,’ she said. ‘I know. Twenty years among birds and I still can’t fly. Yet, this is where I’m meant to be. It’s the only place.’ Her jovial mien resurfaced. ‘No need to be ashamed of not belonging. I’m sure you’ll find a place here, Valinos.’ She smiled. That sun-streaked grin again.
Valinos and Fen’asel locked eyes once more. Their gaze lingered. Gidius cawed again. So she tucked a braid behind her ears and turned away. ‘Oh, I should feed the birds,’ she said. ‘Otherwise they won’t be sending anything anywhere.’
‘Of course,’ Valinos said. In the moment, they had forgotten to clean the foodstuffs and feed the messengers. He moved to the edge of the platform, out of the way of the eagles, and watched as Fen’asel disappeared to distribute food. His eyes followed her.
She moved between the cages with exuberant grace, the way a gentle wind caresses a forest. Birds came near to her when she brought out food, gingerly taking morsels from her hands. They seemed to delight in her care. Spellbound, Valinos could only watch. She seemed so different to the blundering woman who had tripped up earlier.
Light spilled between the columns of the platform. It enveloped the tower, the eagles, and the girl. It was a good day.
Valinos smiled. His mind was a clear sky. It was a true and happy smile, like the warmth of the midday sun.
* * *
El’enur Tharadin nocked an arrow. He drew the bowstring back, concentrating on his mark, some hundreds of yards away. He felt the tension in the string, screaming for release. The sturdy wooden yew frame quivered beneath his fingers, demanding relief. The archer lined up the shot and held his breath.
There was a moment of stillness.
Then the storm of the launch.
El’enur relished the silent moment before an arrow hit its target, the pause between the flash of lightning and the thunderclap. The arrow flew, sure and straight. It lodged itself in the wooden board beside a distant window. Sunlight glinted off a small object attached to the shaft. It let him know the delivery had not failed. El’enur nodded, satisfied, and turned to hop off the roof of the Hall of Records. The tempest had passed.
El, it seems you’re growing up. Faint laughter.
El’enur joined the throng and traffic of the castle courtyard, hoping to drown the voices in his head. They did not stop.
You’ve gone and done it on me, little brother. Muffled music.
The archer kept his eyes on the cobblestone as he passed through a faceless crowd. His warrior’s finery distinguished him as a maneling, more than that, as a second-in-command of a thousand elites. The deadly bow strapped to his back, a gift from Darius when he had reached his position, qualified him and was indicative of his rank. But today he wished he could simply fade away into the obscurity of the ordinary. For all the power and prestige that were his could not alleviate the loss.
There’ll come a time when I won’t always be able to look out for you. Nothing.
Emptiness.
El’enur turned aside into an empty alleyway and struck the wall with a fist. ‘You bloody fool,’ he whispered through clenched teeth, to no one in particular. No one that could be here, at least. He sighed and collected himself. But like a broken pot, the shards never quite stick together again, hard as one may try to recreate the former shape.
The archer knew he needed to get away from all this. He had to distract himself from the memories and moments vying for his attention. How strange the last few days had been. A fruitless trip to a frozen land. The mysterious arrival of two men who were, for some reason, important to the steward. The activity of a group claiming the esteem of the past. Then there was the strangeness which had overcome Darius recently. What had awoken inside the man? Why could the Amarant not trust his own sub-commander with whatever was bothering him?
And of course, there was the blow which had shattered it all. With his parents off travelling, El’enur had lost the only family close to him. Serìn was his anchor, much as it grated El’enur to admit it. He kept him humble and grounded. That irritable, infuriating, insufferable bard… He was a true older brother. Serìn had done so much for him. When young El’enur’s ambitions led him to desire the mantle, it was Serìn who gave up the trouper’s life so the younger brother’s dreams could come true. It was Serìn who joined alongside him, to protect and watch over him. And though El’enur quickly outranked his elder brother, not once did Serìn complain or begrudge his decision. In fact, he would always be there with a smile and some witty comment. When the mood suited him, there would even be a song.
And he was gone.
Now, unmoored and adrift, El’enur had to loose himself upon something. Perhaps the soldier’s routine would do it. So before long, El’enur found himself in the Barracks district among warriors. He knew this place well. It was where he had proven himself, where he got himself noticed. He had stood out among hundreds of other men attempting the same feat. His skills were undeniable. El’enur knew that. And yet it felt so empty this day. Still, he would vent his frustrations in this place. Unleash his pent-up stress. It had been too long since a good training session.
He paced the grounds of the Barracks, acknowledging the passing soldiers emptily. Formally. Without his usual vitality. He was not even in the mood to put up with Tholn’s antics this day. The ruddy Senhìan outcast and fellow bowman in his mane spotted him and approached.
‘El’enur,’ he called. ‘Your meeting’s already done?’
‘You know I hate meetings,’ El’enur replied matter-of-factly. ‘I ran away.’
‘The old quack drained you that much, huh?’
‘More than you know,’ El’enur said with a sigh.
‘Well, we’re planning to hit up the tavern after training. Are you in? Might even stop by the bathhouses, you know?’ Tholn’s eyebrows shot up at the last comment, and he played nervously with a scar on his cheek. A scar that El’enur had given him, he reminded himself. And yet the two remained close friends.
‘Not today, Tholn,’ said El’enur as he started to make off.
‘Oh, alright. I hope we see you later.’ Tholn’s disappointment hung in the air for a second, and then he was gone.
El’enur went ahead toward the longhouse. He threw a glance above before he entered the building, taking in the immensity of the cliff and castle. Like a striving sentinel, Fara’ethar watched over the dealings of the Barracks. He had always enjoyed this view, but today it seemed to crush him. He entered the longhouse so he could begin training.
Inside, Geren the grubby arms master sat at his desk where weaponry hire was handled. ‘Ah, El’enur,’ he addressed the young archer gruffly, ‘what will it be today?’ Surrounded by a wall of weapons, the quartermaster loomed menacingly.
‘All the arrows you can spare, Geren. And a shortsword.’
The man grunted and retreated to the back room for a moment. He returned with two quivers full of arrows and a sheathed sword, barely longer than a man’s forearm. ‘Freshly fletched, these are,’ he said as he laid the weapons out on the counter. ‘And this blade will probably do you for today.’
‘Thank you.’ El’enur said. He took the equipment and trudged off back outside the complex.
He set up near the water’s edge, away from other training warriors. A seaside watchtower rested to his right. The cliff face was still and content beside him. The sea gently lapped at the shore of the Barracks. And the storm inside him was unleashed.
El’enur let loose arrow after arrow. The bow sung a melody of wood and steel and hatred and loss. Each shot was made for a fallen brother. And though El’enur did not know the face of the one who had done it, each target was imagined to be this Shurun’el.
When every arrow was spent, he turned to the practice dummy and loosed the sword upon it. El’enur imagined what he would do should he come face to face with his brother’s murderer. The tempest grew.
Hours passed. Arrows launched. Blades slashed. Tears shed.
El’enur had no idea how much time had truly gone by. The sun seemed tired of watching over the affairs of men and was on its way out. Shades of twilight smattered in the distance announced the fall of night. The young soldier rested on a stone, expended. Out of arrows, out of breath.
He sat unmoving while the rest of the world was in motion. Other warriors were gathering their supplies and returning them, unaware of the young man’s turmoil. His bow and blade were discarded on the beach. Targets lay about, split by arrows. Pieces of the dummy cut apart by the sword littered the sand. El’enur sat, his face buried in his hands. Deep in thought, revelling in the contentment of a long day’s training.
Then a soft voice broke through his reverie. ‘El’enur! So you’re truly back? I missed your arrival last night. I couldn’t find you in Commons.’
El’enur lifted his head and saw Nelesa watching him. She looked lovely in a gown of sunset red laced with white and gold. Her hands were folded in front of her, hidden behind long sleeves. Nelesa’s posture was reserved, as if waiting for permission to draw closer to her best friend.
El’enur never understood that side of her. They were no longer children prevented from seeing one another. Equal part scholar and warrior, Nelesa was now independent. And still she hesitated. As timid and reserved as the days when they first met.
Still, apprehension and relief settled on the young archer. Her presence comforted him more than she realised. And yet, for her to see him in this state… He looked away.
‘El, I’m sorry, is this a bad time? I got your message, so I thought I’d come find you.’
He heard her step closer. El’enur spun to her again. Nelesa was holding up a tattered parchment. He could make out the words he had scrawled earlier that day.
Nel, I apologise I didn’t show up last night. Find me when you can, at the Barracks.
E.
‘Found it on an arrow by my window,’ she said. ‘Would you happen to know anything about this?’
His attention turned to her face. Nelesa’s smile brightened her obsidian eyes. They were a perfect match to her midnight hair. A black night streaked with moonlight blue, the mark of the Scholars’ Guild. El’enur always thought the blue locks looked best on her.
‘How long has it been since you’ve done this?’ she asked.
‘Too long, Nel,’ he said, trying to offer a smile back. It faded, but the memories kept a hint of it alive. In their youth, El’enur and Nelesa were separated from each other. Nelesa’s father did not approve of the young archer’s influence on his daughter. He believed the warrior’s talk of battle distracted her from the purity of her calling in the Guild. ‘You see to your bow, she will tend to her books,’ her father had said one morning. The door had shut in his face and his friendship with Nelesa seemed ended. But ingenuity and persistence had won over.
There was something maddeningly attractive about a girl who could run circles around him in logic and knowledge. El’enur would not give up that friendship. So he would tie messages to arrows and shoot them up to Nelesa’s bedchamber, arranging meetings in secret. Their friendship survived, as did their competitive nature and their dreams to see who would reach a higher rank in the Empire first. And now she eschewed traditional expectations and decided to pursue both the tome and the sword.
‘Did something happen last night?’ Nelesa asked.
‘Yeah, I’m sorry about that. Well, here I am,’ El’enur said resignedly.
‘What’s wrong, El?’
El’enur grimaced inwardly. As much as he appreciated Nelesa’s company, now that the moment came he did not want to open up. ‘Nothing,’ he sulked. He knew it was in vain. Nelesa always caught him when he was lying.
‘A truth untold comes back with lies but twice as bold.’
‘Ah. Kethénìr?’ he probed unsurely.
‘Lanurel, actually. But I’m glad you remember the names of some of the scholars I study.’
‘Hey, I didn’t entirely waste my one year in the Academy.’
Nelesa chuckled. It was in the Academy that they had met. All soldiers undertook a compulsory year of study, and then those academically inclined remained and followed the path to research.
‘Good to hear it,’ she said. ‘Still, don’t change the subject. What’s bothering you?’
‘Everything’s gone wrong these past few days, Nel. But it’s my brother. That’s the worst of it.’
Silence landed between them. El’enur wrapped himself in it. Not even the noise of the seashore penetrated this armour. When he sighed, it seemed a hurricane. He steeled himself.
‘There was a… a mission,’ El’enur stuttered, ‘to Silnodìr… and Serìn was involved. An ambush… and…’ He sniffled. ‘I just found out yesterday. That’s why I was absent. That’s why I’m here.’
There once lived free… El’enur pushed the notes and his brother’s voice away.
‘Look, I know this happens all the time,’ El’enur said through gritted teeth as he rose off the rock. ‘I know people die, I can expect that. But still…’
Nelesa recoiled. She looked around at the mess of the training space and understood. ‘El’enur, I…’
El’enur looked up once more and before he could do anything, Nelesa was on him. She embraced him. Tightly and fully. As the space between them closed, El’enur was taken back to a time when it was just him and Nel. When they both aspired to serve the nation’s army. To the two of them competing head to head. To the challenges that had stood before them. This was the woman who had decided to stand for what she believes, to trust in her commitment. He was glad she still stood beside him now.
‘I am so sorry,’ she said, almost in tears herself.
‘I should’ve been beside him,’ El’enur mumbled. ‘I should’ve… I should’ve…’
‘Don’t blame yourself,’ Nelesa whispered. ‘Please.’
El’enur sobbed helplessly into her shoulder. She did not say anything more. She did not need to. Her presence was enough.
‘Thanks, Nel,’ he said, finally pulling away.
‘For what?’ She drew back, retreated as if into a shell.
‘For being here,’ El’enur offered. ‘For being you.’
Nelesa smiled. ‘It’s the least I can do. You have always been there for me. You’ve always pulled me along,’ she said, looking down timidly. ‘And when I was unwilling, you got behind me and pushed me until I could make it. I… I just hope I can do the same.’
‘Nel, you say that as if I am far ahead of you. The truth is I don’t have it together.’
Nelesa seemed to retreat even further into herself. She said nothing.
‘But still, thank you,’ he said. ‘And you know, if anything, you are the one that I’ve looked up to, ever since the Academy days. You have the mind of a scholar and the heart of a warrior, Nel. You couldn’t stand still while the world suffered. And joining Darius’ cavalry while doing ten hours of homework a day is not an easy feat.’
Nelesa nearly burst into laughter. ‘Hey, you exaggerate! And besides, you won our race anyway. You made it to second-in-command first! You’ll be making Amarant soon enough.’
El’enur gave her a smile, a glimmer of his old self. Assured and cocky. Then he dropped it. ‘I know I did. But titles don’t mean much now. I found that out the hard way…’
‘El, I’m—’
‘No, no, it’s alright. But see, I used to feel smug about my rank in this whole thing. I was especially proud that I was higher than my older brother. But I realise that Serìn was probably satisfied with how he did things. He was content with how he lived his life, with whom he protected to the point of death.’
Nelesa kept her eyes on the ground and said nothing. El’enur wondered how much she kept to herself. He wonder how much she kept hidden of what she felt and what she wanted to say.
‘Anyway,’ he continued, ‘I can’t dwell on that now. Serìn made the most of it. He didn’t care for rank or repute. And he didn’t whine or sulk. He just got things done. I want to be like that.’ He sighed. ‘And I’ve got some apologies to make.’
‘He would be proud of you, you know,’ Nelesa said, almost under her breath. ‘I am as well, El’enur.’
He smiled. ‘Well, I should clean this up, actually. Geren will have my head if I don’t return the equipment.’
Nelesa chuckled. ‘I can help, El.’
‘Are you sure? You don’t have to, if you don’t have time. Actually, I’m surprised you got out of the library so early. Don’t they usually keep you back?’
‘Yes, but Amarant Darius wanted me to run a few errands at the stables. And since I was out, I came to find you as well.’
‘Oh. Well, let’s get to it, then.’
With the beachfront cleaned and the equipment returned, El’enur and Nelesa strolled on along the waterside. He recounted the trip to Kerena, focusing on the lighter moments rather than the gravity of the mission. El’enur found himself appreciating Nelesa’s company again. Far better to be with her than to mourn alone with gnawing thoughts and restless voices.
‘You should’ve seen Guldar in Kerena,’ he was saying. ‘The man goes mad if he goes without his horse for too long. More mad than usual, I mean.’
‘I see,’ Nelesa said. ‘I should take you riding one time.’
‘As in, on horseback? I don’t do so well with those beasts. I don’t trust anything with four legs.’
‘They’re not so bad. And besides, you know me and Guldar. We trust horses and we’re just fine.’
‘Well, Guldar’s so big he may as well be a horse. And you, you know so many languages I wouldn’t be surprised if you can speak horse.’
Nelesa gave him a look, her eyes contorted in gorgeous incredulity. ‘That is the most ridiculous thing you have said.’ But she could not help laughing anyway. El’enur joined in. Their laughter mixed and played and filled the evening air.
‘So no horses,’ she said.
‘No horses. But you could still show me something. I should take a look at a few of the histories. What can you get me on the Order of Seven?’
Nelesa stopped in her tracks. ‘El’enur? Back in the library? That’s unheard of.’
He laughed and nudged her. ‘Hey, this is important. I want to have a look at a few matters before the next meeting.’
‘Another one?’
‘Well, the last one didn’t go so well. Amaleron’s going to berate me for hours on behaviour unbecoming of a second-in-command of Anardes’ military.’ El’enur mocked the old man’s tone and vocabulary, prompting more laughter from Nelesa.
‘I’ll see what I can do, El.’
‘Thank you. The people responsible for… the ones who killed my brother, they’re claiming links to the ancient Order. Or at least pretending to. Maybe we could find something to help us there.’
Nelesa nodded gravely as she walked on. ‘Of course, I would love to help.’
Sundown arrived silently. Eventide reds transitioned into nightly blues. They were still walking. The scene was disturbed by a grumble. El’enur’s stomach. He blushed and turned to Nelesa.
‘I still owe you a drink,’ he said suddenly. ‘And a meal. I’m starving. Let’s head to Commons.’
‘You know I find the place revolting, and still you insist on meeting me there.’ She smiled coyly. ‘But for you, I’ll do it.’
He smiled. As they walked on, other voices played in his head. But they belonged to those who were still here. Those whom El’enur could still reach. Those for whom he would live and fight.