CHAPTER 10

Things were going south. Quickly.

Ammi held her sword level with the Hunter before her. The old elf looked to be near the end of his days. He stood as straight and defiantly as he could beneath his curving aged back. Deep lines creased the structure of his face, and his recessed, watery eyes were beady and clouded as he sneered at her. Ammi would have thought that after nearly 500 years of life, that this man would have found some sense, but he proved her theory wrong as he looked right over her weapon and into her eyes, refusing to back down in face of the massive sword.

This old bat is brave, but still a fool. She thought bitterly.

As her annoyance grew, so did a slight itch in her fingers- a familiar sensation that always crept up on her in moments like these. Shields called it a side effect of her violent past, but Ammi knew better. This impulsive call to act that seemed to radiate from the hilt of her sword and into her veins leading right to her heart- it wasnt a trigger or habit induced by stress.

Ammi knew perfectly well that this was something much deeper, though she didn't bother arguing or explaining it to the rest of the Champions.

The sword was calling her. It willed Ammi to send her power into its hungry blade. The sword wanted to fight, and it was doing its best to egg her on.

Ammi wasn't one to give in to pressures though. She resisted the familiar call of her weapon with a well trained and often practiced breath of focus. Brand was its name, and it was unique against the other swords within the wall, not just because of its appetite.

Brand was given to her nearly thirty-five years ago by her trainer, the leader of her first garrison back home. Unlike the swishy silver instruments the Champions here wielded, the Champions back in Coastlund were expected to supply their own weapons to be blessed by the divine. She had refused the offer of a new blade when she took the sacrifice here. Beyond the sentiment, there was also the comfort of the weapon that kept her loyal to its use. Brand was no stranger to battle, and over the years, Ammi had come to learn that it almost felt grateful in her hand when she gave in and fed it her power, and in return, it had never failed her.

And now, in the face of this silly little old man brandishing his walking stick like a threatening club, It's will tugged at her. She could feel it practically begging her to add its magical fire to the mix.

That would show this old fool. I'm not just some simple wall guard you can bully.

But no. Ammi knew better than that. Impressive displays of power would not do anything to diffuse the precarious situation they were in. It would only add fuel to the mounting fire.

"Get out of my way human! Or I will give you another scar across that face of yours!"

The old hunter swung his cane back and stepped forward, meaning to call her bluff and get her to drop her sword. But she stood her ground and he stopped short, his carved wooden stick inches above her head.

"I told you to stand back," she insisted, not relenting as the man imposed on her. The tip of Brand touched the pine colored wool of his cloak, and she could see it burn a tiny ember sized hole in the fabric. She watched it sizzle silently with a small flash of satisfaction before composing herself.

"As I said before, the situation outside of the wall is dangerous. Shields and Brooke are handling it but we must keep the gate closed until they give us the all clear. Please, return to your home!"

The old Hunter shook with rage as he steadied himself on his cane. His eyes bulged in their sockets and his face grew a deep red to match the patch on his nose as he jabbed a finger at her collar bone, reaching over Brand, which was now warm in her hand, and growing steadily hotter.

"We are not going to sit inside while you thugs slaughter our searchers! OPEN THE GATE!"

Ammi looked over the belligerent man at the gathered crowd of concerned elves. Murmurs and whispers echoed around the bystanders in waves as they watched the power struggle unfold.

"Slaughter?"

"They are fighting hunters out there?"

"What is going on? Why won’t they tell us anything?"

“Why did they send up a flare?”

This was bad. If she didn't get these people under control, she might not be able to leave should Shields need her…

When she and Brooke finally made it back to the wall, she had been expecting the worst. Reading between the lines back in the divine's clearing, she guessed that Gabriel was searching for Birdie. That is why the divine had disguised them before sending them away, and why she'd run back without lighting Brand. Gabriel would have recognized her in an instant if she'd set her sword ablaze, and she wanted to stave off the conflict as long as she could.

But to her and Brooke's dismay, they arrived back at the city pasture without any signs of Gabriel, Cedar, or his captive hunters. They found Shields looking nervous as he stood sentry outside the wall, every bit as tense as they were.

He’d asked them why they sent up a flare. Confused, they'd asked him the same thing.

Someone else had sent up the signal to draw them out of the divine’s pavilion. Gabriel was trying to draw them out.

And now here she was, holding back the press of concerned locals while Shields and Brooke waited outside for something to happen.

Stolen novel; please report.

As the tense moments crept by, she felt her agitation mounting. This was absurd. A waste of time. Insubordination be damned, Ammi had had enough of playing customer service. They should be out looking for Gabriel, or at the very least, on stany-by to escort Birdie back. The only thing she was doing by standing guard at the gate, was giving the belligerent hunters someone to hurl insults at.

She ignored the old man, who was now screaming at her, and scanned the crowd.

Got him.

Standing idly against the inner post of the courtyard at the very back of the pack, was the Grand Hunter, leader of the Hunter sect. Unlike the rest of the gathered rabble who all looked disheveled in pajamas and messy hair, he was dressed in his usual finery and eyeing her from under his ironed hood, which was pulled to the crown of his head and just covering his combed black hair.

Is he smiling?

She held his gaze and pushed by the belligerent old man in front of her with a brusque shove.

The startled crowd parted before her as she stormed through, pressed back by her obvious anger and the heat radiating off of her sword like a poorly made campfire that stung at noses and cheeks as she passed. The Grand Hunter didn't budge as she came to a stop in front of him, the crowd whispering at her back.

"Good evening Champion." the Grand Hunter said with a wry smile. "Having a rough night?"

"Call off your dog's Camcenan," she snarled, "we have a situation out in the field and if your lot start trouble in here, they will only make it worse."

He shrugged gruffly, his talismans and beaded necklaces clinking beneath his dark green cloak, which was of a much higher caliber than the old man’s she had burned.

"It seems that your lot have already started the trouble. My people simply want answers."

"Shields told you. Two Champions and a handful of hunters are causing a minor conflict out in the field. We are unaware of the entire scope of the situation, but until we can get them secured, the gate remains closed. Tell your people to go home."

"Funny." Camcena stood straight and stepped forward, looking at Ammi down his long straight nose as he stood over her. "That's not what I heard. According to your leader- though I shouldn't call him that, he's more of a circus master- Shields said that one of your failed Cadets attacked our Hunters, and is now manipulating them into violence against the rest of your outfit. I intend to stand right here and watch as our brave Champions try to undo the mess they made. I won’t deny my congregation the same right.”

Brand grew warmer in her hand, and from the corner of her eye, she noticed a distinct shift in its metallic refraction as it grew subtly red with heat. Camcenan noticed it as well, and he raised his brow at her, his snide low voice a threatening whisper.

“Having trouble there, outsider? Maybe you should return to your home before you cause any more damage, seeing as it is your little pet who started this disturbance in the first place.”

Ammi hated everything about him. It was malicious and prejudiced Hunters like him who allowed the invasion of Coastlund. She didn’t doubt for a second that he too would join up with the usurpers should they ever make it this far north.

She wanted to hit him. Brand wanted her to strike him down, but instead she just turned away. She stalked back through the murmuring crowd and climbed up the parapet beside the gate, turning her back to the meadow and regarding the confused people below.

They wouldn’t be here if they hadn’t seen the flare. They wouldn’t be buzzing with questions and accusations if Shields hadn’t opened his mouth and talked before knowing the whole situation. Camcenan wasn’t going to do anything about it, so now it was up to her.

She stared down into their faces and was met with a mix of confusion and anger. Dark eyes flitted between neighbor and friend, and Ammi knew what they were thinking. They were waiting for her explanation, so they could shoot it down. It was moments like this when she was especially struck with how different they all looked from the people of her home. Their dichotomous mix of rugged hardship and naivete made her think of upset toddlers. They lived like sheep in a pen, never questioning the wall, never expanding beyond the city. They were narrow minded, and eager for conflict to break up the monotony.

Perhaps it was for the best that they were so sheltered though. Perhaps knowing the world was what brought Coastlund’s destruction. Even so, she couldn’t help but yearn for her people’s understanding; their fluidity. The hard hearted faces of the citizens before her held no mercy, and their narrow world view, boxed in by the mountains and looming trees around them, meant that she was going to have to settle for some degree of discontent before the night was over. There would be no pleasing them.

She put away Brand, taking her hand off the hilt and seeing how red it had become from holding the instigating weapon. She flexed her fingers and took a deep breath before addressing the small crowd.

“Listen! Please!'' She held her hands aloft before her, hoping to strike some cord of understanding and wishing she had Sheild’s talent for public speaking. Despite her initial hesitancy, the din of whispered malcontent died away, and she forged bravely onward.

“Shields and Brooke are out in the pasture preparing for a potential conflict. To our knowledge, there is no threat to the people of the city. We ask that you return to your homes, and let us handle the situation!”

“Where are the hunters who went out on the search party?” A voice shouted from the group of green-clad hunters near the back.

“We are not sure,” Ammi admitted, “But we are prepared to provide answers as soon as they arise.”

“What ever happened to your little cadet girl? Did she offend your demon in the woods too and bring this trouble about?”

“Yeah!”

“And what about the boy?”

“Did your divine kidnap our hunter?”

The outraged comments hurtled at her from all corners of the crowd, and Ammi could see more disgruntled elves wandering into the courtyard, no doubt disturbed from their sleep by all of the shouting.

Before she could move to regain order, a prickle raced up her back, and a sharp warmth spread across her hip where Brand was sheathed to her side. Thirty Six years of training over took her, and she drew it, whirling on the spot and gazing out into the pitch darkness beyond. There was a startled scream from behind her, but she held out her hand to silence the crowd as she searched the darkness.

Down the trail, a solitary pinprick in the darkness marked Brooke’s lantern as she stood at her post. But that was it. Shields’s light had gone out. Her heart kicked into overdrive as she whispered a memorized incantation and felt a tingle of power in her eyes.

“Detect life.”

As the spell took hold, a small rosy hue bloomed beside Brooke’s lantern light, the vague outline of the girl marked where she stood tense and waiting in the distance. Ammi peered beyond her, searching for where Sheilds waited by the trailhead. But in the sea of darkness, she saw no sign of him. Had he gone deeper into the forest? Or perhaps circled around the clearing?

Then she saw it. So small she could barely make it out, the tiny fading sign of a man lay crumpled against the treeline, his flutter of color practically translucent as it faded away.

An icy wave of fear broke over her.

Shields.

The color shifted, and she watched as her leader’s detect life mark raised an arm. In that instant, a streak of red light shot out from him and raised high in the sky, arching subtly before it exploded in a shower of sparks.

And then his color went out.