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It was true that she was a little curious about the lieutenant. How did he know about craetons? Had he come from Willshire and seen the destruction, too? She headed for one of the two cushy armchairs in front of the fire and sat down with a long sigh. Her legs ached from the long ride on the saddle. The lieutenant sat in the chair next to her, rubbing his hands together in front of the flames. He looked at her again but she refused to meet his gaze, instead looking into the fire.
“You should at least let me know your name,” he said. “I gave you mine, it’s a fair trade.”
“Rain,” she said, giving in. “So you’re a Knight of Callaghan? Do you save women from evil beasts regularly?” She wondered why he hadn’t mentioned her ears or hair yet, especially if he indeed was a Knight and all the stories were true, that they gathered information about the unusual.
“No, they’re usually smart enough not to travel at night,” he said, teasing.
“Why did you act as if you’d seen and killed craetons before?”
“Because I’ve studied them.”
Rain stared, not believing him. All the things she read about craetons had been legends. “You study children’s stories? What are you, some kind of traveling minstrel?”
“Knights of Callaghan are not minstrels,” he said, as if he thought she didn’t have a clue. “We’re protectors.”
“Of course you are,” Rain said. “But you don’t look old enough to be one.”
“I was an exception. I started training at a young age.” He leaned back in his chair. “You didn’t… come from Willshire, did you?”
She looked him in the eye, not saying he was wrong. His eyes widened.
“So when you said to Beren that you knew someone in Willshire…”
“I live there.”
“Oh, God. Are you alright?” He looked at her worriedly, perhaps afraid to deal with someone emotionally unstable. “I didn’t think anyone escaped.”
Rain dropped her hand to the chain around her neck and clutched the aegis, which had fallen out from under her neckline. She held it for a moment, appreciating its calming effect. She didn’t want to cry in front of him. The lieutenant looked at the stone with a frown and she hurriedly hid it again, remembering how Whiskey had told her not to show it to anyone.
In the firelight, she saw a glint around his neck. A chain. He reached under his own neckline and pulled the exact replica of her aegis, a milky-white stone set in silver. She pulled her own aegis out again to compare.
“Where did you get one of these?” he asked, confused.
“Where did you get one?”
“It was given to me by my father. He said it was magical protection against fear. Hasn’t done much for me except given a sense of comfort when I’m worried. Even that’s probably from my memory of him.”
Avoiding his question, she asked, “What were you doing passing through Willshire?”
He looked unsure if he should say anything, but glanced at her aegis and seemed to change his mind. He lowered his voice and glanced at the bar where Beren was still preparing their drinks. “I’m on one of my first major missions with the Knights. I was sent to investigate reports of an attack in Brygern.”
She remembered the conversation she’d overheard at the bar earlier that day, but kept her emotions in check, her mental wall firmly in place. “What did you find there?”
He looked at her peculiarly, but answered the question all the same. “There were scorch marks. Huge blackened areas all over the streets. Almost every other building had a shattered roof. It was as if lightning had struck over and over again. There was quite a mess. The doorways were marked with…” he paused and seemed to judge her. “With what looked like blood. I was ordered to confirm the damage and report back to the Captain in Highgate.” He stared into the fire, a grave look creasing his brow. “The strangest thing was that there were no people, no bodies, and no blood except on the doors.”
The Wingmaster back at the inn had used lightning. She had controlled a storm, no less. Her heart raced at the possibilities and she felt her mental wall begin to crack. Where was Whiskey? How long would she have to wait to know whether or not he was alive?
Beren came with their drinks, setting them down on the small table between them. “Sorry it took a bit, I couldn’t find our chamomile. Just the thing for a good night’s sleep,” he said, winking at her.
“Thank you, Beren,” Rain said, taking a sip of her tea. The hot liquid seemed to instantly warm all the parts the fire couldn’t reach.
“I’d love to stay and chat, but I should get some rest,” Beren said.
“Go on, sleep,” Shea said. “We’ll trade stories in the morning.” Rain guessed Beren didn’t know anything about the craetons yet, and thought it was probably better that he slept without worrying.
When Beren was out of earshot, Shea continued. “I was traveling back from Brygern and saw the craetons in Willshire. I skirted the town as best I could.”
Rain looked at her aegis, remembering how it had protected Whiskey. “If you know what craetons are, do you know anything about people called Wingmasters?” she asked.
“No, I don’t. Why, where did you hear the name?”
Rain considered telling him what had happened but thought better of it. “It’s nothing, never mind.” She looked up at the lieutenant, finally seeing him as someone who might help, despite her lack of trust of city folk. He couldn’t be working for the Wingmaster if the aegis he wore possessed the same magic as hers. “I’m sorry, lieutenant, I’m just not in the mood to trust people right now. I’m waiting for a friend. He’s the one who gave me my aegis. I just received it a few hours ago. Except… I was told not to show it to anyone.”
“Call me Shea. And don’t worry, I won’t hold it against you,” he smiled. “Who’s your friend?” he asked with a little more interest than she expected.
“Oh, it’s nothing like that,” she laughed. “It was the bartender I talked about before, Whiskey. I…” She looked into the fire. “I feel like a deserter, but I’ve known Whiskey my whole life and I know to trust him. He said I’d be safer riding ahead to Fairfield.” She paused. Letting her voice turn to a whisper, she asked, “Is Willshire going to turn out like Brygern?”
“I’m not going to lie. Evidence certainly points that way,” he said, a painful look on his face. “I can tell you’re strong. You’re holding yourself together much better than I would have expected.” Rain tried to smile. He had no idea how close that wall was to crumbling. “If you trust Whiskey, and he’s such a good friend of Beren’s as well, he’s probably fine. I’ll stay up a little later if you want to sleep. I can even tell Beren to keep an eye out for your friend. He’s probably still awake.”
“Thank you. I don’t think I can sleep yet, though.” She drank more of her tea, letting it relax her.
His gaze lingered on her ears again. “It’s odd. You look just like an elf. I hope you don’t mind me saying so.”
She stared at him. “You don’t believe those stories, do you? Elves, faeries, all that? I never believed Knights really studied all that stuff.”
“Between you and me, us Knights are taught that it all exists. But tonight was the first time I actually encountered anything from the legends.”
They sat in silence for a moment. She felt a spark of excitement that someone, a Knight of Callaghan of all people, thought she could have a connection to the elves. She had enjoyed learning about them from Whiskey as a young girl, about their magic and houses built out of trees, and remembered how her parents scorned her for listening to “such nonsense.” Her throat constricted at her memories, and she swallowed.
The fire danced before her eyes, and she finally felt her eyelids start to droop. “Actually, I think I am going to try to sleep.” She stood up, stretching her tired legs.
“Sleep well. I’ll wake you when your friend gets here.”
She smiled. “Thanks.”
“Not a problem.”
She took her tea with her and sluggishly walked up the stairs to her room. The room was simple but decent, a bed, table, chair, small basin, and a chest at the foot of the bed. Her saddlebags had been placed on the bed. She put the tea on the table and moved everything from her bed to the floor. She shut and locked the door behind her and dropped onto the bed, immediately falling into a deep sleep.
***
Bright sunlight shone through the window, waking Rain from a satisfying sleep. She sat up and rubbed her eyes, noticing her dresser from back home in the corner. The bed sheets were also familiar. Now wide awake, she tossed back the covers, standing up in her white nightgown, and peeked out the door. She was back at the Oak Tree. It must have all been a bad dream. By the sun’s light she knew she had slept too long. She dressed in her usual working clothes and hurried down the stairs.
She stopped in shock when she saw the wreckage. Walking forward, she fingered the pieces of broken wood lying across the floor. Chunks of wood from the walls, chairs, and tables were strewn about as if every piece of furniture in the room had been broken. Her foot hit something stiff. A boot. She lifted the piece of broken table that was obscuring the rest of the body and gasped. Her father laid there, a shocked expression still on his face. Her mother lay across him protectively, her body slumped against his. She bent to touch her mother’s hand, almost falling to her knees, but stopped when she heard a swishing noise. Lifting her head, she saw the dark robes of a Wingmaster.
She stood up and backed away, nearly tripping over a stray chair. The Wingmaster’s unnerving eyes stared back at her from under her hood, a satisfied smile on her lips. She tried to find the wall and the door behind her to escape, but her eyes couldn’t break away from the woman’s stare.
“I have found you. She will be pleased.” The dark-robed figure reached out her hand and white light gathered and sizzled in her palm.
“No. No!” Rain yelled. She expected her body to stiffen in fear, but realized her aegis protected her. She found the door and stumbled outside, running from the inn. Storm clouds raged above. Her feet pounded on the dirt road and trees whipped past her. She soon passed her familiar archery practice area.
The Wingmaster yelled behind her, “You cannot hide. Myrna will find you!”
In no time she was panting, out of breath. She stopped and looked behind her. The Wingmaster hadn’t followed.
She hadn’t seen Whiskey yet, and she decided to look for him in the woods in case he’d gone looking for her. She stepped carefully through the underbrush to keep from making noise or leaving much of a trail.
As she approached a clearing, a strange red stain on the ground caught her eye. After stepping through the tall ferns, her hand flew to her mouth. Lying before her on the forest floor was Whiskey, an arrow through his heart, his eyes staring lifelessly into the treetops. A dark stain covered his tunic and the ground around him. A note was pinned to his chest, the arrow piercing it. She shook her head and squeezed her eyes shut, tears escaping. This couldn’t be happening. She opened them and the note was still there. Hands shaking, she walked forward and carefully tore the paper away from the arrow. It was covered in bloodstains and black handwriting.
The moon elves will be vanquished. The Sisters will be killed. I will find you. Do not continue on this path, maiden. You are the last. You will fail. This is your first warning.
Dar’Quath
Whatever it meant, it chilled her to the bone. She folded the bloodstained note and slipped it under her collar. When she looked back at Whiskey, his body was gone. Shea stood in his place. He smiled at her warmly, and she nearly threw her arms around him in relief. But his body began to change. He grew taller and became darker, turning into a shadowy apparition with no features except blazing red eyes. Its arms reached for her, and she screamed.
***
Something dug into her side and she squeezed her eyes shut in pain. When she opened them she saw she was back in her room at the Mourning Lady. The faint glow of dawn shone through the thin curtains. She was lying on the floor in full traveling gear, with blankets twisted around and her dagger’s sheath poking her side. Her aegis felt warm against her skin.
A rapping on the door startled her into a standing position. She threw her blankets back onto her bed and went to the door, opening it slightly.
Whiskey stood there, looking disheveled but definitely alive. “Are you alright?” he asked. “The lieutenant downstairs said you’d be here.”
She hugged him fiercely. “I thought you were dead! I can’t believe you’re here.”
He smoothed her hair. “It’s alright, Rain. I wouldn’t leave you.”
Rain pulled away and nodded slowly, rubbing her damp forehead with her hand. “I’m fine, considering. Are you alright? What happened in Willshire?”
Whiskey entered the room and closed the door behind him, then sat in the chair. Rain sat across from him, on the bed. The old bartender shook his head and it took a few moments for him to speak. “The craetons, they… destroyed everything.”
“Everything?” Rain whispered, her hopes breaking like glass. “What of Mimsy? The customers?” Her thoughts went to her dream, the broken chairs and tables, common room ruined.
“I managed to get a horse to Mimsy before I escaped, and I hope she’s well on her way to Eastcastle by now. I gathered what I could in a saddlebag and slipped away on horseback. It was too late to help anyone else.” He swallowed hard. “I had to get through a few craetons, but the group I encountered was small and I don’t think they followed me.”
“I talked to Lieutenant Shea last night and it sounds like this group attacked Brygern a few days back,” Rain said.
Whiskey looked at her gravely. “Rain, he’s a Knight of Callaghan. Do you know what that means?”
“Not exactly… he studied legends, he said, and was investigating the destruction at Brygern. He actually studied books about craetons and elves as if they were true!”
“The Knights of Callaghan were created for one purpose,” Whiskey said. “To rid the world of magic.”
Rain frowned. “I haven’t heard that rumor too often. What are you saying?”
“It’s no rumor. He can’t be trusted. But he can’t be in league with our enemy, either—the Knights don’t use magic. They kill those using magic for good or for evil, without caring which it is. How much did you tell him?”
“Not much. Except… how can you say they don’t use magic when he has an aegis like mine?” She reached under her collar to pull it out and was startled to feel a piece of paper. Was it the note from her dream? Too afraid that it was, she ignored it and pulled out the aegis.
Whiskey looked from her face to the aegis. “How do you know he has one?”
“I… he saw me holding mine.” She looked down, ashamed to have forgotten his warning to not show it to anyone. She kept talking, afraid of what he might say. “He showed me that he had the same one. I swear, it looked exactly the same, and he said his father told him it had power against fear. I’m not sure he believes that, though.”
“Exactly the same?” Whiskey said, a curious look on his face. “He could have been lying to you. It’s possible he could help us, but Rain, if we tell him too much, he could turn against us. If he knew—” he stopped, thinking. “We just can’t completely trust him.”
“Why not? Isn’t it just our enemies that use magic? He could help us.”
Whiskey was silent.
“That was magic in our last archery lesson, wasn’t it?”
He nodded reluctantly.
Rain sensed she wasn’t going to get anywhere with this line of questioning. “Then where are we going to go?” she asked, putting the aegis back under her shirt. “If the craetons did attack Brygern, Fairfield has to be next. It’s right in their path, if they’re following the main road.”
“I don’t think we have to worry about that. With the Wingmaster dead, the craetons don’t have a leader. They’ll probably go back to Myrna. I think Beren’s inn will be alright. But the raven could still be following us, telling Myrna and her other spies of our whereabouts. We can’t stay in one place for long.”
“Who is Myrna? The Wingmaster mentioned that name. And what exactly is a Wingmaster?”
“We can’t spend too much time talking here, but I can tell you a few things. Wingmasters use spirit magic, the darkest sort. It lets you command the spirits and minds of other beings. It’s how they use fear to paralyze their victims. Whenever I’ve seen them, they travel with a raven as a kind of familiar. They must have started as elves with elemental magic, because it’s clear they like to create storms and use lightning as a weapon. But I’ve never seen or heard of them in many years.”
“How do you know all this?” Rain asked, amazed.
“I’ve… had run-ins with them before,” Whiskey replied, and left it at that. “Myrna is a long story for another time. All you need to know right now is that she’s extremely dangerous. As for where we’re going, I think it’s time we head across the mountains. Through Highgate and across the pass.”
“Across the Fangs?” Rain asked, not sure if she was excited or frightened. She wasn’t one for superstition, but she’d heard stories about things across the mountains. Dark shadows behind every tree. Harsh, treacherous terrain. “Why?”
“I know people in Ellwood who can help us.”
Rain nodded, not sure what Ellwood was, but trusting him to know what to do. “What are we going to do about Shea? Can he help us or not?”
“Let’s go find out,” he said, standing up wearily. “Just don’t tell him too much.”
***
Downstairs, the morning light filtered through slightly dusty windows and the few patrons that had stayed the night before sipped mugs of ale and ate hot sausage and bread. The fire was lit, since the morning was chilly. Shea and Beren were sitting at a table at the far corner near the bar, conversing in hushed voices.
Shea looked up, smiling when he saw Rain approaching. “Sleep well?”
“Well enough,” she said. She and Whiskey sat in the empty chairs at the table.
“Beren, old friend,” Whiskey said. “Thank you for all your help.” He pulled out a small coin pouch, generously filled.
Beren’s eyes widened and he smiled broadly. He was now changed out of his nightgown and into pants and a tunic with a flour-dusted apron surrounding his hefty middle. He smelled of a strange mix of ale and fresh bread. “Oh, but this is too much,” he said, accepting the pouch with his pudgy fingers, weighing it in his palm.
“I insist,” Whiskey replied. “Business is slow. Look at you! When you have too many customers to handle you have to double as a cook or a bartender to keep things going. Those rumors about towns being abandoned and destroyed is keeping people out of the countryside. You might need some extra change to keep this place going in the near future.” He winked. “And remember all I told you. We were never here.”
The innkeeper nodded vigorously. “Haven’t seen you for months.”
“Now, if you wouldn’t mind, I need to talk to these young folks here…”
“Absolutely. Not a problem. I’ll make sure you aren’t disturbed.” He stood up, bowing his head, and scurried off to attend to the other customers.
Whiskey turned to Shea. “Lieutenant. Rain told me you came from Brygern, with grave news.” Rain noticed Whiskey looking at the chain around Shea’s neck. The aegis was hidden under his collar.
“Call me Shea. Yes, the town was abandoned and destroyed. I’m traveling to Highgate to report to my captain. You were the last to see Willshire, weren’t you? What did it look like?”
Whiskey glanced at Rain. “I didn’t get a good look, but craetons were destroying the place. I got out of there as soon as possible.”
“It would help if you could remember any details about the attack. The more I know, the better my report, and the sooner we can figure out why this is happening and stop it.”
Whiskey thought for a moment. “Why don’t we travel with you? We’re headed in the same direction, and it would be good for us to have some extra protection on the road. We could tell your captain what happened, in person.”
Rain tried not to look startled. How would they get any time to talk about things with Shea right there with them? She wasn’t keen on traveling with someone from the city, either. No matter how nice he was to her the night before, city people thought they knew everything.
“That sounds great, actually,” Shea said. “My captain would appreciate seeing witnesses for himself, instead of just hearing what you said to me,” he smiled. “Thank you for willing to do that.”
“Anything to help a Knight protect the people,” Whiskey said, not unkindly. Rain could hardly believe he’d just told her to not trust the lieutenant.
“I’ll go get my things,” Rain said, smiling at Shea as she stood up, trying her best not to look uneasy.
When she entered her room and saw her blankets in disarray on the bed, she remembered her dream and the paper under her collar. She pulled it out.
It was the same note as the one in the dream, bloodstains and all. Dar’Quath’s signature made her shiver. She hurriedly stuffed it back under her shirt, afraid that looking at it would bring the frightening images back to life. She promised herself to tell Whiskey about it as soon as they had some time alone.