A journey begins, fraught with doubt

What turn of events will come about?

Ferrian and Luca waited in the entrance foyer of the castle. Packs, camping equipment and food sat in orderly piles on the gleaming floor. Ferrian watched the young Centaur go meticulously through their supplies, double-checking everything, putting things away neatly. Ferrian’s own pack lay ready at his feet, his Sword slung on his back, over his grey cloak.

Luca wore a handsome scarlet doublet with gold buttons, freshly laundered without a trace of mud. His fine red hair fell about his shoulders, long and loose, the sides tied back in braids and dark beads below a short-brimmed black velvet cap. His physique was slender, almost delicate, somewhat like a deer; his brown eyes sharp and wary. He was quite unlike Cairan and Raemint, the only other Centaurs that Ferrian had met.

Luca finished what he was doing and got to his feet. Picking up the sword that lay across his pack, he unsheathed it, examining the blade, peering along its length. It looked quite dull compared to Ferrian’s Sword; made of ordinary steel.

Ferrian hated to sound patronising, but still… “You, er, realise that steel won’t work against demon-wraiths, right?”

Luca looked across at him quickly, and nodded. “I am aware,” he replied. He lowered the sword with a sigh, and shook his head. “Truth be told, I do not feel comfortable carrying a weapon.” He stared down at it in dismay, and shrugged. “But I… thought it was… expected of me.”

He blushed a little in embarrassment, but continued. “Our journey here was fraught with peril. Not only demon-wraiths but bandits, thieves. I felt that it may be necessary at some point to defend ourselves, or at least deter those who would do us harm. I… decided that I would take that responsibility.”

He looked up at Ferrian seriously. “It is not that I feel my Lady is incapable. She is much stronger than she believes herself to be. She led us all the way here with nothing to guide us but dim magic and intuition. But… I have a little training, and she does not.”

He sheathed the sword carefully. “I am not a fighter,” he admitted quietly. “I do not possess the instincts for hunting or combat that are typical of my race. I left my home in the Great Southwood because of this, to live and work in a Human household instead. There, I was mainly responsible for preparing the meals.”

Ferrian blinked at him in surprise. “You’re… a cook?”

Luca smiled slightly. “I am.”

Ferrian grinned. “So that’s why you’ve insisted on preparing all the food while you’ve been here!”

Luca set the sword down and folded his arms, making a disdainful face. “Your pantry… I do not even want to mention it.” He sniffed, his tail twitching. “And your herb garden is full of weeds.”

Herb garden? Ferrian vaguely recalled Requar having a neatly tended one, but he assumed it had been destroyed. He guessed some plants had survived all the fire and reconstruction work.

Luca picked up the sword again ruefully. “I… suppose I have no need of this,” he said. Then he shrugged, and belted it onto his waist anyway. “Perhaps it will come in useful for chopping vegetables. I left my good knives behind...”

Ferrian laughed.

An hour and a half later, Ferrian was pacing from one end of the hall to the other, his boots echoing loudly, cloak swishing through the beams of multicoloured light now flooding the room.

It was past midday, and Lady Araynia had yet to make an appearance.

Ferrian was worried. He had barely seen his guest since she had arrived, bedraggled at the castle three days previously. Luca had assured him that she was shy and preferred to keep to herself, but Ferrian couldn’t help but feel that something was wrong.

Had Arzath traumatised her so much that she feared to leave her room? Was she having difficulty dealing with the loss of her family and the horrifying events she had left behind in Crystaltina?

None of them knew. Even Luca hadn’t been allowed into her chamber, though the trays had come back clean of food. That was a good sign, Ferrian supposed…

The sunlight was making him feel itchy and irritable, his patience wearing thin. It was a glorious spring day outside, full of blue sky and new grass and sunlight, and chirping birds. It made for good travelling conditions, but it also meant, disappointingly, that his Winter had not returned as he had hoped. The gloomy weather of the past couple of weeks had merely been normal mountain precipitation.

What am I doing? he thought unhappily as he stalked the hall. Why did I agree to go on this journey? He had not yet regained all of his power, and had no idea what he was going to do when they arrived at the royal city. It was not something he was looking forward to.

But he felt strangely restless. He was tired of this castle, tired of the books and studying. Weary of the painful magical practice. And Arzath’s miserable attitude was weighing him down, like a set of iron chains clamped tight about his chest.

Ferrian shook his head in despair. Arzath. His master worried him more than anyone else. Ferrian was haunted by the awful certainty that the dark sorcerer would not be here when he returned.

There was a good chance that Castle Whiteshadow wouldn’t be here, either.

Ferrian had dismissed all of the Griks, just in case. The castle was near enough to completion, bar a few finishing touches. If it was going to end up as a smoking crater in the wake of a Fatalis, he didn’t want any casualties going with it.

He stopped at one end of the foyer, rubbing his face with his hands in frustration. What was more important: stopping a scourge of demon-wraiths, or staying here and protecting a morbidly depressed sorcerer from himself?

Why was everything so complicated?!

“You are regretting your offer to help us,” Luca remarked frankly, causing Ferrian to look up. Shaking his head, he walked over to the Centaur. “It’s just that…” he waved his hands hopelessly, “everyone expects me to do… well, everything!” He sighed. “I’m not a king! I’m not a ruler of anything! I don’t know how to make decisions that will almost certainly result in somebody dying!”

Luca looked at him sympathetically. “I do not envy you,” he said quietly. “But you are not obliged to return with us. It is not too late to change your mind.”

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Ferrian stared at one of the staircases bleakly. He didn’t really have a choice at all, he realised. He had decided to come here and regain his power in order to find a cure for trigon. He could have stayed in Forthwhite and lived a normal life, free of magic, just as he had always longed for. Requar had given him that opportunity. Requar had given him all that he had ever wanted.

But he had abandoned that gift, instead making a deliberate decision to follow in his adoptive father’s footsteps. And found that he was encountering all of the same problems, all over again.

Requar would have been horrified. It was the very thing he had feared the most, the thing he had tried so hard to protect Ferrian from.

Ferrian closed his eyes. But he could not simply refuse to help fight the demon-wraiths. To do so would be to turn his back on everything he had worked so hard to achieve. He desperately did not want his friends to die, Arzath included, nor anyone else to end up like poor Hawk and Carmine.

He remembered the encounter with the old Dragons, on the Arlen Plains four years ago, just before the fight with the black monster over Forthwhite. They had insisted that Ferrian destroy it: that he was the only one who could. He had railed against them, tried to walk away, but the White Dragon had forced him to confront it.

Now, he had to force himself to confront his fears. He was the only person alive with the power to truly stop the wraiths.

And he had learned not to walk away. Not ever again.

My Winter has been replaced with a different kind of curse, he thought sardonically.

The curse of being a hero…

Opening his eyes, he turned to Luca and held the other’s gaze. “I hold to my word.”

The Centaur nodded, and smiled gratefully.

There was sudden movement on the balcony above, and they both looked up as Lady Araynia appeared.

She descended the white staircase slowly, dressed in the fine clothes she had arrived in: a dark blue, wide-sleeved tunic embroidered with flowers, high, dark boots, and a thick, fur-trimmed cloak.

Her hand ran along the bannister as she went, head bowed as though something troubled her.

“Good afternoon, my Lady,” Luca greeted as she finally reached them. “Are you feeling well?”

Araynia blinked as though she had only just noticed him. “Oh,” she replied. “Yes. Fine. Thank you.”

Ferrian frowned. “Are you sure? We have a long journey ahead. If you need more time...”

“I’m fine!” she insisted. She swept past them to pick up her knapsack.

And that was when Ferrian noticed something glitter as it fell free from her tunic.

“Your pendant!” he exclaimed. “You got it back?”

A look of fear flashed across her face. She clutched the pendant and turned away quickly.

Ferrian moved to stand in front of her. “Arzath gave it back to you?”

She said nothing for a moment, stuffing the blue stone back inside her blouse. Then she took a deep breath. “I… made a mistake in coming here,” she said without looking at him. “I should not have involved you in our problems...”

Ferrian put his hands on his hips. “I involved myself,” he replied.

“Please,” she looked up at him, blue eyes imploring. “You need not come with us. You should stay here. You have… other responsibilities.” Her eyes glimmered a little.

Ferrian met her gaze flatly. “He threatened you, didn’t he?” Anger began to rise within him in a slow, icy wave. “Did he hurt you again?!”

“No!” She shook her head quickly.

“But he gave the pendant back to you in exchange for convincing me not to go, is that it?”

She looked down at her hands unhappily.

Damn you, Arzath!

Spinning on his heel, Ferrian strode determinedly forward and snatched up his pack. “We’re leaving,” he declared. “Now.” He slung his bag over his shoulder in one movement, continuing towards the main doors.

A sharp double knock froze all of them in their tracks, the sound echoing throughout the hall.

Ferrian stared, dumbfounded, at the doors. Visitors? Again? Now?!

As the knocking repeated a second time, he walked quickly to the entrance. He was preparing to send whoever it was away; he didn’t have time for them, but as he opened the door, the words died on his lips in shock.

“Everine!” he gasped. “Ben!” He blinked. “Hawk!”

They looked exhausted. Everine leaned on the wheelchair as though she had run all the way there, her face deeply flushed, her hair and clothing soaked in sweat. Ben rested wearily on the wall beside the doors.

Ferrian had no idea how they had manoeuvred a wheelchair up the steep, rocky mountain path, and it didn’t look like it had faired well, either: the wood was chipped and broken in places, and one metal wheel was warped.

Its occupant, cloaked and hooded though he was, looked much the same as he had the last time Ferrian had seen him, about a year ago. The sight of Hawk again made his stomach drop and a prickly feeling run through him. He took a deep breath to steady himself.

Without another word, he flung the doors open wide to let them through.

Luca and Araynia retreated several steps in horror as Hawk was wheeled into the foyer amid a bright shaft of sunlight and long shadows. Ferrian glanced at his guests momentarily, but decided that the complicated explanations could wait.

“What’s happened?” he asked his friends at once.

Everine took a deep breath. “Mekka,” she answered. “He’s been arrested.”

“Arrested? By whom?”

“A bunch of Angels calling themselves the Sky Legion,” Ben replied. “I overheard them talking in Hawk’s room, after they beat up Mekka.”

Ferrian stared at him in disbelief. “They beat up Mekka?!”

Ben nodded sombrely.

Ferrian shook his head, running his hand through his pale blond hair. He started pacing in front of them. “After all this time?! Why now?”

Everine looked at him gloomily. “He is guilty, Ferrian.”

He whirled, anger flaring in a small patch of frost that spread across the tiles. “No!” He swiped his hand through the air. “No, he is not! The trigonic dagger made him do all those terrible things! And I’m the one who gave it to him in the first place!”

Ferrian’s hands clenched and unclenched. It wasn’t fair! Mekka wasn’t a bad person; he had been corrupted by something infinitely evil that he could not control. As had Requar. And Hawk. And Carmine. And General Dreikan, and all the black soldiers that had transformed into wraiths and overrun the Coastlands.

The Angels didn’t care. They wouldn’t give him a fair trial, if they bothered with one at all. They would take him to Caer Sync and throw him into the Pit.

And Mekka would damned well let them do it!

“It’s not going to happen,” he said furiously. “Mekka is not going to die like this! Not after everything he’s been through!”

“What are you going to do?” Ben asked.

Ferrian folded his arms, his silver eyes fierce. “Bust into that Tower with a Dragon, if I have to!”

Ben gave a whoop. “Can I come?”

“No!” Ferrian and Everine said at once. “That goes for you too, Everine,” Ferrian added. He shook his head. “You’re all going to stay here. I’ll have the best chance of rescuing Mekka if I do it alone.”

They didn’t bother to argue. Ben looked disappointed. Everine merely smiled thinly and nodded wearily.

“Go inside and sit down, get some rest and something to eat,” he told them, gesturing at the dining room.

They did so, wheeling Hawk with them.

Ferrian turned to Luca and Araynia, who were standing quietly off to one side, looking anxious.

“You must go and help your friend,” Araynia said softly as he reached them. “We can manage.”

Ferrian shook his head. “You two should stay here as well. It’s too dangerous to return to Crystaltina.”

Despite his words, he felt conflicted. Asking anyone to stay at the castle with Arzath was a bad idea, but he was left with no other option. Still, they should be warned…

“Staying here is not completely safe, either,” he admitted. “Lord Arzath is… mentally unstable. You should keep as far away from him as possible. But you’ll be okay if you don’t provoke him and definitely don’t believe anything he tries to tell you. He is fond of half-truths, and scaring people is basically what he does.”

He carefully refrained from mentioning that the sorcerer could blow up the entire castle and everyone in it at any time, if he wanted to. They were spooked enough as it was.

All that Ferrian could do was pray inwardly that Arzath would not completely lose his mind before he returned…

The Centaur and the Lady looked uncertain. Araynia cast an uneasy glance across the hall.

“Don’t worry about Hawk,” Ferrian assured her, with more confidence than he felt. “I know he… he looks like a monster, but his silvertine armour is preventing him from transforming into a wraith. Otherwise, he’d be dead by now.” He gazed at the dining room door. “I’m… trying to find a way to save him.”

He took a deep breath. “I… need to go and talk to my Dragon,” he told them. “I can’t force you to stay here if you don’t want to, but at least… give it some thought.” He hesitated, about to turn away, then turned back. “Oh. In case you need to leave this place in a hurry, there’s a secret passage in the eastern stairwell, near the kitchens. It’s pretty well hidden, but you’ll find it if you search carefully.” He shook his head. “I don’t have time to show you. But if anything weird happens, or you feel threatened, don’t hesitate to get out of here.”

They were quiet for a moment, thinking over everything he had said. “Thank you, Lord Ferrian, for your hospitality and help,” Luca said gratefully.

Ferrian nodded, wincing at the honorific. Then he bid them both an awkward goodbye and left the hall.

They watched him go in silence.