Hope looked up, peering out from under her thick hood. Before her stood a formidable timbered wall, a barrier that separated her from the source of her family's suffering. Further down the gate stood. As she surveyed the area, she became concerned.
Where were the guards patrolling the outer perimeter? She wondered.
The scouts had reported that the patrolmen had been active for months.
Must be the King’s orders, she thought.
Hope turned around, her gaze shifting towards the many gathered cloaked figures.
Hundreds of shadows loomed in the distance, their presence felt through the dense woods. Yellow eyes, gleaming with a dangerous intensity, scanned every inch of the timbered fortification. The stolen edge of the forest, stripped bare of its natural glory, stood as a painful reminder of the local’s contempt. The rustling of leaves and murmurs of discontent whispered through the trees, carrying the collective anger of the forest's inhabitants.
In their collective gaze, a simmering fury seethed, ready to erupt into action. The time for patience was waning, and the shadows grew restless, their presence a warning of the impending reckoning that awaited those who had disregarded the precious balance of the forest.
Among them, Hope locked eyes with Valon, who, like the others, concealed himself beneath a cloak, deliberately hunching to appear less conspicuous.
A soft whisper reached her ears, breaking her concentration. It was Ralina, her voice filled with apprehension.
"Nervous?" Ralina asked, her words barely audible amidst the muffled footsteps and soft wind flowing through the forest that sheltered them.
Hope met Ralina's gaze, a determined expression on her face. In response, she shook her head slightly and revealed what hid in her hand. A small handle gleamed with a distinct green sheen. Bolgart’s last gift.
Ralina smiled as a look of respect spread across her face.
Valon threw a hand up, signalling to move.
Hope watched in tense silence as the designated nine figures dashed toward the imposing wall. Their cloaks billowed behind them, offering fleeting glimpses of gleaming golden armour or glinting cobalt blades.
As her heart pounded in her chest, a faint echo of voices drifted down from above. The guards stationed on the wall seemed gripped in a spirited argument, their attention diverted from the imminent breach from below. It was the opportune distraction they had been waiting for, one that the guards of Branside would soon regret.
With a sudden burst of feathers, Valon vanished above, sided by the agile grace of his Feldreken companions who effortlessly ascended the wall with their sharp claws. The once boisterous sounds of the guards gradually faded into silence, their presence neutralised within a matter of seconds.
A minute later, the gate slowly creaking open, Valon's head emerged. A swift flick of his head signalled for the others to follow. Hope's gaze locked onto his piercing yellow eyes, which briefly vanished as he scanned the vast expanse that lay beyond the walls, assessing the risks that awaited them.
Soundlessly, the cloaked figures from the forest moved as one, moving through the gate without opposition.
As soon as Hope passed through the gates, an overpowering stench assaulted her senses. The sight before her was a nightmare, a town that had been forced from the depths of her worst dreams. The sheer number of homeless was startling.
The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.
With a heavy heart, Hope navigated through the grimy streets. As she moved forward, her eyes were drawn to their intended destination—a colossal structure the arena of slaughter. She had expected a swarm of people to approach them, pleading for help, but an eerie silence hung in the air with barely any movement.
She scanned the area, noticing that many of the hunched figures clutched small cups in their hands—cups that seemed oddly clean and contained meagre amounts of water.
In the distance, there was a group of individuals. They appeared to be volunteers, pushing a cart adorned with the emblem of the King, accompanied by a barrel filled with water. Their selfless act of offering water to those in need stood in stark contrast to the destitution that permeated the town. A pang of thirst tightened her throat as she watched a man beside her, squatting on the muddy path, take a sip from the cup.
As the parched man's lips touched the life-giving water, his face transformed. The colour drained from his eyes, leaving behind a clouded shimmer that washed over his features. The expression of desperation gave way to a vacant stare, and he too slumped forward, joining the multitude of other wretched souls.
"Don't touch the water," Valon's voice sliced through the air.
Startled, Hope instinctively recoiled from the man, the memory of her own experience of losing herself echoing in her mind. She glanced at Ralina, recognizing a similar reaction etched upon her face. The revelation of the tainted water sent a chill down their spines, exposing the insidious danger that lurked within the town's boundaries.
“Okay, you all know the plan,” Valon said, then signalled for them to move.
Faced with limited time to assemble a large enough force for a full-scale siege, they made the decision to infiltrate the coliseum as a smaller group and confront the tyrannical king. Aware of the possibility that Palin might have already entered the town ahead of them, they agreed to split up temporarily, believing it would improve their chances.
Hope trailed behind Ralina, accompanied by three of the formidable Feldreken women. "Which way, Amber?" Ralina inquired, seeking guidance from the experienced warrior.
Amber grinned, her eyes gleaming with determination, and motioned toward the dock. They had chosen the seemingly safer path near the bustling shipping yard. With a swift transformation, their Felren legs morphed into powerful lioness limbs, primed to propel them forward with remarkable speed.
Anticipating this, Hope urged her block of living wood to envelop her own legs. In an instant, her calves and heels were embraced by the chilling touch of the living steel. With a nod exchanged between them, they darted down a side street, guided by the towering masts of sails.
Together, they surged forward, their determined footsteps echoing through the narrow streets as they hastened their step.
As the towering sails of the ships came into view, Hope felt a distinctive pull. It was as if an invisible force was leaking out, urging her to stop. Just as they were about to turn down a narrow street, Hope abruptly skidded to a halt, causing Ralina to spin around.
"What are you doing, woman?"
Hope extended a hand, silently pleading, while Amber signalled the other Feldreken to a halt. They adjusted their hoods and straightened their cloaks, their eyes fixed on Hope with a mix of curiosity and caution.
"I can feel it," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.
Ralina's eyes widened. "It's here? How can you tell?"
Hope shivered with the memory. "Once you touch its covers, you’ll never forget the sensation that follows."
The Felren women held their breath, captivated by Hope's words.
Amber nodded, a determined spark in her eyes. "Where?"
Hope nodded in the direction of the docks, where a large ship was being laden with supplies, adorned with a prominent golden wing crest.
Amber arched an eyebrow. "The King's ship? Well, well, I don't mind if I do."
Further ahead on the horizon, two more ships were approaching, preparing to dock. If they wanted to board the vessel unnoticed, they had to act swiftly.
Amber declared, "Alright, let's go," and they all sprinted down the boardwalk, making their way toward the imposing vessel.
Hope cast a worried glance at the dock workers, fearing that their presence would be detected. But, to her relief, she saw the familiar white sheen in the workers' eyes.
As Hope's gaze fell upon the deck of the ship, a heavy weight fell into the pit of her stomach.
There, standing before her, was Palin, the betrayer. He wore Karn's pack on his back, a silver chain encircling his neck, adorned with an ominous black gem. The whites of his eyes had been consumed by darkness, transforming into abyssal pools, and a twisted grin spread across his face, reflecting a perverse satisfaction as he spotted their approach.