Prologue

Sunlight streamed through the dew covered leaves. As the rays hit the trees, a green light seemed to illuminate them, like the forest was an emerald sky. A slight breeze moved through the branches, without disturbing anything. There was a small creek running along the floor of the forest. Wisps of mist were dancing on top of the water’s glass like surface. Along the edge of the creek was a foot path. And suddenly penetrating the silence was the pounding of booted feet.

 

She ran. Running faster than her legs had ever gone before.  This time they wouldn’t catch her. They couldn’t. She had run this same old foot path along the water’s edge many times before and each time the path never changed, never wore down.

 

Her trousers got caught on the same bushes as always. Her long blonde hair had come out of its braid and was now flying behind her as she ran faster. In the direction that she came from, far back, she could hear them coming. Horses’ hooves, loud and thunderous against the ground, men yelling, most on the horses, others on foot, along with dogs barking – each one of them were all coming for her.

 

Past the pounding of her heart in her chest, she could hear them gaining. She was almost to the clearing and that’s where it always ended, but this time something was different. She couldn’t quite place it until she looked to the sky.

 

“No!” she screamed at the top of her voice. The sight of a black pillar of smoke, bellowing up from the direction of the clearing, almost made her stop, almost…

 

She risked a quick glance over her shoulder and regretted it. Not only could she hear them louder than a moment ago, but she could see them as well. Ahead, she could see where the trees gave way to the clearing. This place held lots of memories of her Aunt Heather. Now the dark smoke made her sprint at top speed the last few hundred paces.

 

They were just a few seconds behind her as she burst into the clearing. The first thing she saw was a giant castle that was never there before, engulfed in flames. This time she did stop.

 

She didn’t care if they caught her now, anything was better than watching the castle from her childhood stories burn to the ground. To her surprise, the men and horses and dogs ran right past her. Strange, she thought as she watched their receding backs, they seem to be going towards the fire, almost like – and her thoughts stopped there.  She heard her name faintly; a voice seemed to dance on the whispering wind – “Maggie!”

 

She couldn’t move. As she watched in horror, flames winked in almost every window of that stone mansion, spreading with every passing breath. Then the sounds which still haunt her dreams came, men, women, and children, all crying out for help. Everywhere, people were screaming as they ran for their very lives. This was a true nightmare. Finally, when she thought she could bare the stench of scorched things no longer, the worst sound of the whole thing rang out… an infant crying from inside the castle. She could never say why she thought it came from that burning boulder; it just sounded like that was where the child was.

 

Maggie broke into a run again. She followed the sound into the burning stone structure. Dodging falling debris and increasing smoke, she met a very scared looking nurse.

 

“Will! Will! Come help, I can’t get to her.”  The woman was in tears. Her uniform was smeared with soot and her hair was a mess. “Please help!” After all that running Maggie was tired, but at the sound of her Uncle’s first name she began to jog up the stairs toward the nurse just as a man she had never seen before came up the stairs behind her.

 

“Where is she, Martha?” said a familiar voice. But poor Martha was getting too excited to speak. “Martha! Where is she?” the man yelled this time. All Martha could manage was a trembling hand pointing up the biggest staircase and then the sound of a child crying came again.

 

Her legs were numb, but Maggie could still follow the man up the stairs and down the hall to a room with some rubble piled in front of the door. The child was trapped inside. With alarming speed the man cleared the debris blocking the door. But when he tried the handle the lever was jammed. He looked around frantically, trying to find something to smash off the door handle. He soon found a brass vase on the floor a few strides down the hall and began to bash the only obstacle between him and the wailing child inside.

 

Through the pounding of her pulse, she heard her name being called again. She looked around but she didn’t see anyone calling her. The only things around her were the flickering flames, the roaring heat and crumbling stone. There it was again, only louder. The man was still hurling that vase at the door, was it him?

 

“Maggie! Maggie, it’s going to be alright. Can you hear me, Maggie?” The voice penetrated her thoughts. “Maggie! Maggie, it’s okay.” The voice seemed to make everything stop.

 

Maggie’s eyes fluttered open. She gasped for breath. As she looked around, Maggie realized that she was back in her bed. The early morn flowed into her bedroom window. Her Aunt’s quilt was twisted around her legs. Next to her, Uncle Will was sitting on her bed, his large hands still on her shoulders. His face was filled with concern.

 

“I heard you hollerin’ all the way down in the garden. Are you all right Magdalene?” He looked her in the eye. At the use of her full name, a bolt of realization rushed through her – this dream was becoming a serious matter.

 

“Uncle Will,” cried Maggie, “It was that same dream again.” she paused for a breath and leaned into him, “Only this time ‘twas so much worse…”

 

*****

 

The coffin was surrounded by candlelight in the family’s private chapel. The night air that nipped at the windows outside was cold and clear, but inside, the room was stifling and the air was thick with incense and candle smoke. The man lying dead was liked only be those few who had only known his name, not by those who knew him for what he really was. The dead man’s oldest son stood at the head of the wooden box, hatred threaded throughout his entire face. The light from the some twenty candles flared in his green eyes, as they glared down at the death vessel.

 

Yes, he was the heir to his father’s riches, but he didn’t want them. Possibly, he would gain his father’s role in a high office with the royals, but he had never wanted to be like this dead man in front of him. Indeed, he wore black for morning, yet he knew he would never miss his own father. For the man lying in front of him was as cruel and wicked as one could be towards a pair of motherless boys. However, those boys weren’t mere boys, not anymore.

 

This young man let his shaggy red hair fall into his face to hide the wrath he knew lay in his eyes. He felt the pain when his fingernails dug into his palms as he clenched his hands into fists, and accepted it – for he had known greater pain. The weight of his sheathed sword at his left side was a constant reminder. Looking into his younger brother’s eyes – his mother’s eyes – was even worse.

 

The boy merely blinked when his younger brother walked into the little chapel. “Keith?” Keith looked down into his brother’s face – but not much for his brother was almost as tall as himself. His hair was also as shaggy as a dog’s but it was as black as night, and that hair made his pale skin seem ghostly white. His eyes were as blue as the Great Sea. He was almost an angel. Long eyelashes, boyish face, beautiful singing voice and all. His only fault was his need to play jokes.

 

“What is it, Daileas?” Keith tried not to sound too happy for this new distraction. But he was relieved that he had something else to think about, none the less.

 

“A messenger has arrived,” Daileas paused for tension. “He comes from the King!”

Chapter 1

The sun came out from behind the clouds and sent all the shadows running across the ground. A young girl was sitting in her bed room window. Her straight, long blond hair was back in a braid that fell almost to the small of her back. She wore a pair of her uncle’s old trousers on her long, crossed legs. Her slender index finger and thumb were unconsciously worrying away at the top button of her faded blue shirt she wore when she was training. The fair skin that covered her body made her freckles stand out a little as they danced across her arms as well as her pink cheeks, and ever so slightly upturned nose. Her thoughtful dark blue eyes were staring out into the world, the same old world that never seemed to change.

 

She was an obedient girl, for the most part. Since the death of her aunt a few years ago, she was taking on the role of a woman faster than she had planned. Doing both the house chores, many of the yard chores, and helping her uncle in his blacksmith shop, she somehow still found time for her friends that lived near the workshop.

 

“Maggie? What are you looking for?” asked her younger cousin, Vika, from where she sat on the girl’s bed. Vika was wearing the shirt and trousers her mother had made for her to train in, her dirty blonde hair was also pulled back in a braid that reached down to her waist. She looked harmless – with her determined green eyes that held a hit of blue the same colour as the sea, and her small, thin but tall figure – yet when she saw a threat of any kind it would never last long. Vika was very violent when it came to protecting the ones she loved.

 

“Nothin’ really,” Maggie replied, she didn’t take her eyes off the window pane. “Well, answers to unanswerable questions, I guess.” Vika got up and walked over to where her friend was sitting. Without looking up, the older girl asked “Want me to take you home on my way to the shop? Otherwise, I’m sure that you’d love to stay and finish my mending.” With one glance at each other the two girls began to laugh, and ran out of the room to grab their cloaks.

 

With the sun out again, the spring air was a bit warmer than what it should have been for this time of year. The friends jogged past the garden and into the stables. There, Maggie got Gregor, her chestnut gelding, out of his stall. They both jumped on him for the ride around the village. Maggie had her hood up; she was shy with strangers, and was only confident in familiar surroundings; like her uncle’s blacksmith shop and the other shops in the little square.

 

For a quiet man, Uncle Will had strange ideas. He insisted that she learn how to ‘protect herself properly’, as he had put it, and that was not usual – a girl being trained in fighting. Since she was about ten years of age, she and her closest friend, Vika, started training with Vika’s older cousin, Redd. Now he was training other young people in a village near the boundary between the Highlands and the Lowlands. Even two years after his departure, the girls still practice their skills in the mornings alongside Redd’s younger brother, Angus, and worked in the afternoon. The young trio had become quite the deadly group – as deadly as a group of young teens could be.

 

Today they were lucky. They passed not a soul on the road, but Maggie kept her hood covering her face, she felt more secure. The girls talked about little things; how many bull’s eyes Vika could hit with her throwing knives; how many moving targets Maggie could catch with her bow and arrow; how much Angus was improving with his crossbow; as well as improvement with the sword for the three of them. All the things that had happened during the morning’s training were usually covered by the time the thatch roof of Vika’s house could be seen around the next bend.

 

After words of farewell to Vika’s family, Maggie decided to go to the village over the hills, instead of using the road. Even if Vika hadn’t made her promise to go that way out of safety’s sake, she would have gone all the same. She used to ride that way all the time, when Auntie Heather was alive. Going over the hills usually takes half as long as the road, but Maggie knew how to take her sweet time. There was an old path that was not used as often as it had been many moons ago that served quite well as a passage through the ancient fields of a fiefdom from times past.

 

She walked down it now with Gregor following. Maggie felt calmer if her feet touched the ground in this part of the woods. The way the sun tried to penetrate through the leaf roof above her, reminded the young girl of a dream she would occasionally have. Most often it came after she would play among the ruins with Aunt Heather and Vika and Angus. That was when she was much smaller. But occasionally, at the turn of the season, she would have it again and more vivid. In this dream there were always the same people without faces and their animals chasing her, but whenever she reached the clearing, and they almost caught her, everything would stop and she would wake up. Maggie knew that she was too old to have nightmares and kept reminding herself of it, but somehow they always found their way back to her.

 

Upon entering the clearing, Maggie looked around. The last time she had the dream it was at late harvest. There was a stone building burning, and a crying child, and a man that looked and sounded like her own Uncle Will trying to save it – but that was just a dream, right? Nothing of that dream was real. It couldn’t be. She was standing there, among the ruins, thinking of the stories that her loving Aunt had told her long ago…

 

“Once, t’was two great an’ powerful clans: the sons of Tine’la and’ the sons Gregor. Their feud is almost as old as this land and just as mysterious. No one truly knows what happened, but these clans started to fight” Aunt Heather’s voice echoed in her memory, and once again she was a child listening to her Aunt’s stories. “The Tine’la gained power in the government an’ because the McGregors were such a big threat, they decided to destroy them. Thus began the Kingdom's Divide. Many years passed and grand battles were fought. The Kingdom split in two lands, one ruled by Tine'la, the other by the banished McGregors. Today, we call these lands Curta and Tìrbogha.

 

“This old clearing used to have a giant stone castle right over there,” and she would point to the ruins that Maggie played in, “An’ it belonged to one o’ the most powerful McGregors, Lord Grant an’ Lady Anice Maria, who threatened the Tine’la. So, one night about this time o’ year, a group of Tine’la came an’ burnt this magnificent stone structure to the ground. It would be the first o’ many warnin’s that they would send out to their enemy.

 

“Clan McGregor fled to the highlands, to hide until the time came to strike back an’ take what rightfully belongs to them!”

 

“Auntie,” Maggie heard her childhood voice in the back of her mind, “Do we like the sons of Gregor or the sons of Tine’la?”

 

Auntie Heather had just smiled at her and said, “Megs, can you keep a secret?”

 

Maggie’s face was full of excitement, “Aye, I can” she had said eagerly.

 

“Aye? Alright,” Auntie Heather had leaned down and whispered in Maggie’s tiny ear a secret, one that she would hold sacred for the rest of her life, “Megs…” The soft voice of her aunt seemed to echo around the ancient stones that Maggie was perched on. “I think that we’re fer the McGregors. D’you knows why?” Maggie had shaken her head, “T’is because I am one.”

 

“Auntie Heather, I don’t care who you claim ta be, I love you anyways,” little Maggie had said not knowing the true danger that would befall her aunt as she wrapped her tiny arms around the small woman’s short thin waist. Even when she was small Maggie was tall compared to her Auntie Heather.

 

“An’ I love you,” Auntie had said returning the young girl’s hug. The thin little woman had let sadness seep into her eyes; it seemed to drip down into her mouth, for her next words were hoarse. “Megs, I don’t want you to ever forget this story. One day, it will help you discover why you are, who you are. No matter whom you or what claim to be, your truth will always come out. Promise me that you will never forget this.”

 

Little Maggie had looked deeply into her beloved Auntie Heather’s eyes. “I promise Auntie. I’ll not ever forget,” she whispered in a soft childish voice as she climbed into her auntie’s lap. The two happily sat, watching the sun set and the evening star take to the sky.   

 

Maggie whipped tears from her eyes. When she was little she didn’t know how dangerous it was just to know a McGregor, let alone to be one. Once she got older she had a whole new respect for her Auntie Heather. Especially, since the ‘accident’. That was what she was always told ‘t’was just a terrible accident’, but she had seen it. She had seen and knew that what happened was no accident.

 

The day was turning from morning to noon. So not to be late, Maggie made her final lap around the grounds, mounted Gregor and replaced her hood. With one last looked behind her, at her favourite childhood playground, she rode off towards the shop.

 

Maggie almost always hated coming into town, though she did it almost every day. She would only speak when spoken to, nod or wave when the same was done by another first and kept her head low whenever a group of drunks came reeling out of the pub. The only thing that didn’t make her feel awkward was when she smiled at all the people who ran the stores and booths that surrounded the often busy square. These people were like family to her.

 

She had been told on a number of occasions that she had a smile bright enough to block out many of the stars in the night sky. Maggie loved to smile at every person she knew, despite her shy nature. It was a weakness of hers – smiling.

 

Uncle Will was waiting for her when she got back. His thick arms were unhitching Laddie – the cart horse – as she came riding shyly through the busy village square. When he saw her he waved his big hand, and started to walk over to her with heavy steps, helping her put Gregor back in his stall next to Laddie.

 

“There’s ma girl,” He said as Maggie got off her horse and hugged the large man, “Now, let’s go inside, get you to work, and you can tell me ‘bout your mornin’, then I mine.” Uncle Will put his arm around Maggie as the two of them walked in the front door of his homely blacksmith’s workshop.

 

As the two talked, Maggie set to work. Tucking her braid up under her cap she got from an old rusty nail nailed into a beam, she put out more shoes, swords, armour, and any other stray item she could find in the boxes around the little shop. Once everything was on display, Maggie went on to cleaning the shop. While Uncle Will started making some new shoes and repairing the old ones brought in. Soon after Maggie was done cleaning, she took out her latest work; engraving the handle of a new sword.

 

There was something special about this fine blade. Sure it was being made for the eldest son of a Lord who had a seat in the house of government, as well as a Tine’la. However, that wasn’t what made it different; there was no requested design for the handle. Most everyone of important status asking for a sword requested a specific design. Since there was none, Maggie got to make up her own as per request. As she sat at her little work bench – dressed as a working boy – she stared at the metal hilt, awaiting inspiration. 

Chapter 2

“What!” Keith felt anger flaring up inside him as he slammed his fists on the table in front of him. “The last time Camshron asked us to chase after the Black Clan, our father ended up dead!” He could hear the echo of his voice boom around the main hall along with the bang of his wooden chair against the stone floor from his standing up too fast. Keith could feel the heat rise to his cheeks when he caught Daileas looking at him. The boy resembled their mother – those same caring eyes.

 

“Please, sir. I–I am merely a messenger. M’ Lord sent one to all available members o’ the clan. Sir, it isn’t a request, but a demand – a call to battle.” The little man was quivering in his soaking wet boots. The rain hadn’t ceased, nor slowed. It just came down harder. The redhead was irritated, but not enough to send this carrier back out into the downpour. He always tried not to be like his father.

 

 “Nettie.” Keith waved to the small serving girl who stood in the corner of the room. He braced himself for the title that he felt belittled him. He was the rightful lord of this house and fiefdom after all.

 

“Young master?” There it was. He attempted to keep his face straight.

 

“See to it our guest here is kept dry, fed and bedded, as well as his ride, ‘til this rainfall comes to an end.” Keith said as he bent down to pick up his chair. Standing back up, he nodded towards his younger brother and said, “I’ll be with Da.” With that he left the hall and made his way slowly back to the chapel.

 

Behind him, Keith could hear Daileas’s voice. “And make sure he has a bag filled with food, an extra cloak, and a water skin. Thank you, Nettie. That’ll be all.” Keith walked faster as he heard his brother’s chair scrape back. He didn’t want to talk to his brother about this. Unable to duck into a room before Daileas came out of the Hall, Keith just turned to face his brother. The dry and thick stone walls were dull looking in the light of the torches. With his shoulders back and head held high, Keith prepared himself for a fight. “You know that we have to go.” Daileas told him as he stood in the doorway, arms crossed. “Why not come with me? It would be an adventure.”

 

“The Black Clan is dangerous. I thought you knew that already.” Keith clenched his hands into fists as he heard his voice echoed on the rocks. “Don’t you remember how Da slaughtered that defenceless woman in front of her child two years ago?” Keith shivered as he recalled the horrified face of the little girl. She had even tried to run to the dying woman but had been held back by a dark figure in the shadows.

 

“Uncle Cam told us that she was connected to that rebellious Lord. Da didn’t know anything else about her, or her child.” Daileas seemed to experience a shiver as well.

 

“What kind of adventure would it be if one of us had to do such a thing? I’m not going, least not ‘till I get my new sword.”

 

“Fine, but when it comes, I’ll be waitin’ in the stables.” Daileas said with a lofty air as he spun on his heel and disappeared around the corner.

 

Keith glowered at the corner for a few moments then marched right out to the stables. Once he found the stable hand, Seaver, he told him to go to the blacksmith’s and get his sword. Whether it was done or not didn’t matter, but keeping Daileas safe did. He tossed the man a bag of coins that he had slung on his belt for just an occasion. If Seaver ran as fast as he usually did, Keith would have his new blade by dawn. He headed back into his family’s castle and trotted to his chambers to begin packing, grumbling to himself all the while. Uncle Cam and Da had always told him of just how dangerous the Black Clan was. Keith just had to close his eyes and remember the time they were all summoned by Uncle Cam, two years before.

 

It had been during their if-you-disturb-us-you-are-a-dead-man evening meal, a messenger had come – a royal messenger. Thinking back, a smile crossed Keith’s lips as he remembered the surprise that had played across the old man’s face as he learned it was a messenger from the King of Curta. Then that smile turned into a grin remembering the shock that seemed to slap that same face when the Keith had read aloud the note that the man had brought for his father and brother.

 

An outlaw group, ones who foolishly supported the soon-to-be-lost Kings and Queens of Tìrbogha – the rival kingdom that would surely fall – was hiding in the mountains and thought to have been found. In order to prove the power of the Curtian thrown, and to hopefully prevent future resistance, this hatred filled boy and his younger brother had been called to fight in a battle to prove their loyalty to the Curtian king – their father’s brother, Camshron – against these treacherous people and claim victory.

 

The two brothers, eager to get away from their father, were excused from the meal and allowed to prepare to leave for the attack. Their father, on the other hand, had failing eyes and was not encouraged to go. Despite this he went to prepare his own gear.

 

These boys were trained by the best men their father could buy. Their skills were second to none that they encountered, and they were proud owners of a multitude of weapons. Neither cared who it was they were to fight – they just wanted to get out. Anything was going to be better than being trapped in their half empty house with their spiteful father. If only they had known of what waited for them as they stormed a small village not far from their home in midday. Da was the single man among the whole group that knew the purpose of the attack. Keith and Daileas were still too young to understand the cruelness of the endeavor; to them it was a grand adventure.

 

Keith could still picture clearly the small shack the three of them came to. He thought it was strange that while all the other people were screaming, dashing this way and that, there wasn’t a candle lit in this house, not even smoke in the chimney. Almost like no one was alive in the house. Their father had pounded on the door with such force that Keith thought it would break down. No one came. He banged again. Still, no one answered. As Da was about to knock once again, which would have taken the hinges off, a small woman opened the door.

 

A very dignified, “May I help you?” came from the short figure standing with her shoulders back and spine straight. The owner of the voice couldn’t have been taller than his father’s elbow and she was rather small, reminding Keith of a child. She seemed to have no fear. Keith had heard just the slightest whimper from inside and the women called to someone telling them to stay calm, and everything would be alright. Keith knew that it was a lie. He knew it from the moment the little woman had opened the door and Da had brandished his sword.

 

Before the woman could turn back around to face them, Da had thrown her to the ground yelling, “Traitor! Where is she?” With forceful rage, he thrust his heavy sword down at the defenceless woman. To the surprise of all three invaders, the woman rolled away from the blade just as it hit the ground and was back on her feet before Keith’s father could lift his weapon back into the ready position. Her steady hands flew to her sides, revealing two hidden thin daggers.

 

Glancing at his younger brother, Keith had noticed that Daileas had lowered his sword a little bit. His eyes were bulging at the sight of their father fighting a woman almost half his size. There had been something about the way the fire light had cast shadows across Daileas’s face that chilled the older boy’s blood. Keith had nudged Daileas into lifting it up and back into position, just in case their father decided to look behind him to see if his sons still stood tall. Two years ago, he had feared his father more than death. That was two years ago. It amazed Keith how so much could change in such a short amount of time.

 

The tiny woman-child dodged the next few lunges the large man in dented armor sent flying her way. Even blocking a few strikes with armor of her own concealed under her cotton shirt was unexpected. In return she had thrown a seemingly endless stream of blades at the direction of Da as well as Keith and Daileas. A razor-edged knife sliced through the skin just below Keith’s left eye. He whipped at it to remove the warm sensation that trickled down his face, and marking his sleeve with bright crimson streaks. His father had turned to back to give his oldest son a glare of disapproval. As if he said it had been Keith’s fault this woman could handle throwing knives properly. With anger rising in him, Keith had tightened his grip on the hilt of the light sword his mother had given him. He remembered the tingling he had felt in his eyes as his own rage blazed in the green of them.

 

Keith, raising his blade, had given as fierce a battle cry as he could muster and ran at the defiant woman who had left a nasty cut under his eye. A few more of the dangerously sharp blades cut through the air around his head as well as trimming small bits of hair as it flew about in the breeze he had created. Without much warning, the red-head soon heard an almost silent bow string loose an arrow. Following the light whistling sound of the arrow soaring through the smoky air, Keith felt a stabbing pain in his left shoulder. He had glanced and then curst at the thing that stuck out of him like porcupine quill. Where in the Darkness of the Vail had that arrow come from? Daileas ran to him with a similar wooden object sticking out of his shield.

 

The moment the younger lad had reached his brother there was a cry of pain ringing through the hot ashy air that sent all heads in the direction of the two fighters. The small – and seemingly defenceless – woman had Keith’s father’s sword run right through her belly. A muffled and terrified scream came from inside the small hut, but still no one else came out. His eyes on his father again, Keith saw the dying woman had her hands clasped firmly around the large one holding the sword that was her death. “She is somewhere…you will never find.” She didn’t let go until she saw that her life blood had spilled onto the furious man’s hands.

 

Using his foot, Keith’s Da had released his blade from the dying woman. He had turned to the boys. “That’s all that was needed of us. To your mounts!” he had ordered. Marching away from the mess he had just created as if it she were no better than dirt.

 

With their father disappearing around a group of trees, Keith and Daileas had paused to say a prayer to the Vail’s Guard, that he might let her suffer naught in his the world of the Vail. Just as they had turned to leave, a girl no taller than Daileas broke from the darkness of the house, trying to reach the woman lying in the dirt staining the ground red. Before she made it two steps, a rather large arm reached out and hulled her back into darkness. Keith still recalled her puffy, watery eyes that burned with a fury he could not begin to describe. Trying not to waste the girl’s time left with who was obviously her mother, Keith and Daileas had ran down the road to catch up with their father and their mounts. Both vowed never to speak of this to their mother.

 

That arrow had left a scare just above his heart. He was lucky for the protective leather vest that had prevented the arrow from landing deeper. He just never knew who had fired it, though he knew that it was shot from the small hut.

 

Tossing a few more clothes into a bag, Keith let his horrid memory fade. If that was what kind of fate awaited them on another adventure, then he didn’t want to go, but knew that he must for the same reason. Despite their occasional quarrels, he didn’t know what he would do if he ever lost his brother. Placing the bags on the floor at the end of his bed, Keith’s thoughts changed to whom he should leave in charge of the estate while he and Daileas were out adventuring. Bruno, the head butler should do, he always knew the goings-on in the house. Now that Keith knew who he wanted, he had to go and find him. He thought he had overheard a maid say that the old boy had been courting the cook as of late. Since she would probably still be cleaning up after the messenger and preparing the evening meal, Keith made out for the kitchen.

Chapter 3

The western horizon was a bright orange as the sun set. Shopkeepers were closing up after a long day of business and were either going home or to the pub. The little square had only a couple of locals sitting by the garden. The few beggars that the village had soon came out looking for scrapes. Somewhere close by a lonely dog barked. A chill touched the air as the sun fell lower in the sky. Little birds chirped as they perched on the sill facing into the shop. Uncle Will had lit a lamp and hung it above Maggie’s little work space as she hovered over her project.

 

Maggie didn’t notice any of this.

 

She didn’t want to lose the image in her mind as she carved the hilt with a steady hand. Vines and leaves encircled and intertwined each other. The metal looked as if a plant had grown around it and left an imprint. The young girl had already finished the small decoration on the butt of the blade and the sheath. Her hand began to cramp from the way she clutched the tool. She sat up to loosen her back muscles, cringing as her stiff body protested the movement. The soft lamp light gave a warm look to the cold hard metal.

 

About to set down her sharp carving utensil and hammer, another idea came to Maggie. She let her hand guide the way throughout the hilt, searching for the right spot for the image. Without really knowing the purpose of her hand’s movements, Maggie watched in amazement as two rings that were linked in the center appeared before her eyes in a once empty space. Surely this symbol held some meaning, but she was unsure of what that meaning was exactly. She had to smirk at the likeness to a fairy tale; one day she was to meet the boy she had made this for and their fates would intertwine and be link together like her two rings. Such childhood nonsense was amusing. Things like that never happened.

 

Maggie let her eyes scan her handiwork. It was definitely one of her better pieces. Once she had gotten a design request that included a precise picture of the order. Because it was one of her first carvings that she had done on her own, she made sure to practice the design on a piece of wood. By the time she was ready for the actual hilt, she had tidy collection of wooden objects the same size as a sword hilt with mistakes riddled throughout the entire surface of each one. Later, she gave them away as Winter Solstice gifts to the shop owners that they shared their little square with. Well, she thought to herself smiling, at least I’m getting better.

 

Setting aside her finished work, the girl busied herself with the return of her tools to their somewhat proper places. Maggie had never been one for organization. Upon hearing the approach of a person outside, she tugged on her old cap so it covered more of her face and began to wipe the hilt, and other metal components of the blade’s gear with a damp cloth. Soon a very sweaty and very out-of-breath man came clomping into the shop. Maggie would have been hard pressed not to know this wonderful hunched over man. His name was Seaver and it was he who would bring orders and collect them for a lord of a fiefdom not too far off of the village’s main road to the south. She adjusted her cap again so he could see her smile as she brought out a bench and a warm earthen cup of some tea Uncle Will had made for her once she was finished working.

 

“Good evening, Master Seaver,” Maggie said as she offered him the mug with delightful smelling brew. “What is it that your lord needs now?”

 

The old stable hand smiled up at her, showing his mouth of missing teeth, in thanks for the warm tea. “I’ll be needin’ that sword, if ye’d be so kind, Mistress Maggie,” he said after he had taken a sip from the mug.“Young Master just got called to arms. His brother being more excited than not, told him to get his sword as soon as I could run home with it. Else wise he’d leave ‘em behind,” sighing as he shrugged and leaned back on the bench he continued, “Seems the young master would hear naught of that! He expects me back with that sword by dawn, done or no.”

 

Walking over to the work table that held the “young master’s” blade Maggie sighed. “Give me a moment and I’ll just finish polishing this sheath. Help yourself to more tea. Uncle Will usually makes more than a potful anyhow.” She perched herself on the taller stool and took out the cloth and polish kit that was sitting on a shelf. While she worked, Seaver filled her in on news from the castle. It was nice to know someone out of the village who was as trustworthy as this man. Ever since the first order made by the lord, they had spent many a night talking about the harvest, weapons and Maggie’s training as well as Seaver’s family, the goings-on at the castle Seaver worked as a stable hand at and anything else that peeked their interest. Throughout their conversation, the old man became more restless with each passing refill of the drink and soon he was pacing the floor of the small shop. When Maggie was done cleaning up the new leather sheath, the blade and the hilt, the sun was almost well in bed and the tea pot nearly empty. Luckily there was a moon bright enough that one could see straight across the village’s square. Seaver would have no trouble in terms of seeing where he was bound.

 

Waving good-bye to the man and wishing him vailspeed, Maggie noticed that he was more chipper or energetic then when he had arrived. As soon as she had handed him the sack with the order, he bolted like he hadn’t been the panting man that had come through the door. Shrugging it off, she cleaned up her work space for it to be ready for a new project tomorrow afternoon. Walking through the furnace room, Maggie helped her uncle to douse the fire and the two walked out the horses in the little stable that they shared with the baker and the seamstress whose shops were on either side of the smith’s. Dumping Gregor’s saddle into the wagon, the girl tied him to one side of the cart so she could ride with Uncle Will without worrying he might wonder off. It was a bad habit that Maggie still worked on to break. If she wasn’t watching him at all times, he would manage to amble off, leaving her to find him. It was all a great game to the gelding; he liked to run once he knew she was following him.

 

“Did you finish that fancy hilt you were working on?” Uncle Will asked as Maggie climbed up on to the bench of the wagon and he flicked the rains. “I don’t believe I got the chance to see it finished.”

 

Maggie just shrugged. “Seaver came and got it before I was finished polishing it even. He told me that the ‘young master’ had been called to arms and since his brother was more into going than he was, he needed his sword so he could watch his back.” Remembering the sudden change with her friend she asked, “What was in that tea? Seaver gulped over half the pot down before I had a chance to take a sip from my mug. When he left he looked—,” the big man beside her started to shake the wooden perch with his chuckles. “You put flower dew in it, didn’t you!” she gasped. The dew from certain flowers in the meadows – near the old fiefdom that burned – had some kind of substance on them that replenished one’s health, or in Seaver’s case, strength and breath. Too much of it could cause something that was similar to a child’s sugar-rush, and the old man definitely had more than his share. Uncle Will nearly fell off the bench with laughter that rumbled in his chest.

 

Maggie just sighed, shaking her head. Old Seaver was a childhood friend of her uncle’s and they were forever playing jokes on one another. The stable hand would sleep well, once the effect from the dew wore off. She was sure that her friend would come back in a day or two. He would have a plan to get back at the large blacksmith.

 

Maggie laughed as she scrambled for the reins that Uncle Will had let go of as he fell from the cart. The big man rolled away from the wheels while Maggie slowed Laddie down. Gasping, he climbed back into the cart with movements that would have been considered less than graceful. Imagining the old man rushing around like an over-energetic child and seeing her uncle fall off the cart caused a broad grin to spread over her face. While the man next to her threw his head back and held on to Maggie’s shoulders with his big hand, letting his roaring laugh echo off of the trees lining the dirt road.

 

Once her uncle’s breath was somewhat normal she looked behind them, out of habit. It was to make sure that her horse was still tied to the back of the cart. Somehow, the gelding always managed to break loose and run off, making Maggie follow as fast as she could, trying to catch him. Gregor shook his head – the jingling harness still firmly secure to the cart – as soon as she let her eyes wander in his direction, almost like he was saying ‘immature humans’. Maggie just smiled back at the horse. Sometimes it seemed like if he wanted to he would speak in Labaid, the common language of both Tìrbogha and Curta. Taking up Laddie’s reins again and flicking them to let him know that he could continue, Maggie had to keep checking on her laughing uncle to make sure he was somewhat stable on the creaky wooden seat.

 

Maggie had changed back into her dress not long after their return home, and was cooking their meal over the fire in the kitchen. She was humming when Uncle Will came in and hugged her from behind. Maggie finished cooking while he set the table behind her. This was their normal routine; at least it had been since her aunt had left. Sitting down, he said the little prayer he always had asking for the Warrior of the Sun to grant protection and strength; the Maiden of the Moon to provide knowledge, guidance and bravery; and the Vail’s Guard to bring peace to those who had passed and good health to those who awaited their time to cross to the Vail. Then they began to eat.

 

“How was training today? I hope that you girls were safe without Angus there to make sure you stayed in line,” Uncle Will was sending her a smug grin from across the table. The dim light from the fire gave his face a kindness that warmed Maggie.

 

“It went fine,” she replied with a grin of her own. “Vika hit an apple out of a tree branch with her daggers.” – Vika was the best knife thrower that Redd had ever trained – “I hit all my targets, and lifted a ten pound bag of potatoes doin’ that upside-down thing in the tree.” The smith laughed at that. “Why didn’t Angus come today? He didn’t tell us,” the girl asked as finished her dinner and stood.

 

“I had to run over to Denholm, to get more supplies for the latest order. Angus was goin’ to receive his letter from Redd, so he came along. It seems that Redd has a few weeks when he won’t be training and was wondering if his three scholars from home would like to come and stay awhile.” Maggie started to wash her dishes. Uncle Will appeared at her side with his. “So, would you like to go?”

 

“Uncle Will, you know very well that I can’t. Not when you’ve been getting so many new orders. Even if I did go, who will do my work?” Maggie wanted to go, really she did, but the thought of leaving her uncle alone was not something that she was willing to risk. Even if it were for just a few weeks, she couldn’t let herself do it, not after what had happened to Aunt Heather.

 

He looked at her with a questioning look in his kind eyes. Maggie turned and tried to focus on the soapy water in front of her. “Alright, but if you change your mind, know that I will be fine,” he kissed her forehead, walked over to his chair by the hearth and sat down. Maggie finished doing the dishes and placed herself, with her mending, across from her uncle in her own chair. They sat there in peaceful silence. When the fire was growing dim, Maggie put a few small pieces of wood on it before she went off to bed.

 

Up in her room, she undressed and put on her nightgown. She put her dirty clothes in a basket for washing and placed a clean set out in a chair for the next day. As she washed her face and brushed her long mane of blonde hair, she hummed the melody to the lullaby her aunt always sang to her when she was small. Sitting at her window and looking out at the black night sky filled with stars, it felt like Aunt Heather was still there, like she never left. Braiding her hair, Maggie tried to block out that terrifying memory, but when the mind is tired, darkness seems to creep in. Maggie tried to resist the urge to sleep, but as she began to lean against the wall, she knew this was a battle she would lose.

 

The smoke seemed so real. It clouded her vision. It made her cough. She could almost feel it covering her hands with grey slim. But the smoke hadn’t affected her sense of hearing. Aunt Heather’s pained breaths pierced through the smog. Again Maggie tried to break away from her uncle’s strong grip as she watched those retched boys disappear around the trees. They hadn’t done anything but stand there like good dogs told by their master to stay. She hated them. She had a slight glimmer of sympathy, though. After watching that man shoot such accusations at her beloved aunt and then run her through like a meat skewer, Maggie could understand why they didn’t dare move unless attacked themselves. That man was cruel.

 

The bow Maggie had on her back began to dig into her as she struggled to get to her dying aunt. The woman needed someone there for her. As soon as that angry redhead faded behind the green fire-lit branches, Uncle Will relaxed ever so slightly. That was her moment and she took it. Stumbling, Maggie covered the distance between the two in a heartbeat. Aunt Heather’s breaths were staggered and pained. Maggie knelt next to her; the girl’s hand went to the bleeding wound and then lifted the small woman’s head gently onto her lap. Maggie was faintly aware of her uncle’s large body approaching and kneeling in front of her. With blood stained hands, her aunt reached to the back of her own head, weakly fumbling to untie a leather band. “Lean…closer,” her words were quiet and strained.

 

Tears blurring her vision, Maggie bowed her head so that her forehead was resting on Aunt Heather’s chest. She felt the callused hands tie the thin leather into a knot at the back of her neck, and the unexpected weight of the pendant that hung there. As she straightened, Maggie saw a shiny stone the same size as her palm with a hole near the top and the leather strung through it. She cradled the rock in one hand. She felt its smoothness when she caressed it with her thumb. “Aunt Heather, what is this? I don’t think I understand.”

 

“It is a gift… Megs. Made by the first… the First Family,” the small woman’s breath was staggered. Colours draining from her face each passing moment. Maggie had so many questions. Who is the First Family? Why did that man call you a traitor? Am I the girl that you are hiding? What is going on? “When… the time is right, you will know...you will know what to do. It will guide you.” Aunt Heather’s eyes shifted slowly away from Maggie. “Protect her… William. And when the time is right… you must tell her to go.” Maggie looked into her uncle’s face seeing her own sadness reflecting back in his eyes. Carefully, she maneuvered the dying woman into the arms of her beloved. They needed what little time there was left together.

 

Rising, Maggie walked around and collected the blades that had been her aunt’s only weapon. She needed something to help keep her mind busy and this was as good as any. All was fine until she found it. The blasted thing was lodged a tree, but she still managed to see it.  Using a hand to brace herself, Maggie pulled the red tipped blade from the rough bark. This had been the cause of the boy’s fury, and her loosed arrow. It was also the only one that had done any damage to the attackers. She clutched it making her knuckles turn white. If she ever met those boys and that beast again, they would wish–

 

“Maggie,” Uncle Will called quietly. “She wants to talk with you.” Maggie kept her death grip on the blade and ran back to the only family she ever knew. The family that was now falling apart.

 

With weak knees, Maggie knelt next to Aunt Heather and took the cold out-stretched hand. “I’m here.” She whispered through tears. Maggie couldn’t tell if it was Aunt Heather’s hand that was shaking, or her own.

 

“The path set before you… will have many challenges. Be brave… be strong… and don’t let fear control…” Aunt Heather’s freezing fingers went to Maggie forehead. The words danced on weak breaths. With slow and painful movements, Aunt Heather clasped the hands of husband and niece. Looking them both in the eye she breathed, “I love you… both.” Then her eyes dimed with the arrival of the Vail’s Guard, and her grip on Maggie’s hand went limp.

 

Maggie woke with a start. She was sitting on her window sill. Tears blurred the late night stars and streamed down her hot cheeks. She sniffed and wiped at the small salty rivers. Her hand instinctively went to the stone hanging around her neck. The surface that rested against her skin was warm while the exposed side was cold from the draft through the window pane. Forcing her stiff muscles to move, Maggie made her way to her wash stand to wipe her face. She folded back her quilt and settled into her bed. She knew that soon she would have to leave, whether she liked it or not.  What would happen when her time came and if she was ready were the last things that crossed Maggie’s mind as she drifted into a dreamless sleep.

Chapter 4

Seaver had been jumpy since he got back with the new sword. At first it seemed like he was just over tired, but then he began to fidget and pace. Keith had heard the old man up all hours of the night crashing and banging as he tripped over things in the dark. But Seaver’s restlessness wasn’t what had kept Keith from sleeping that night. He had his sword, his bags were packed, and the horses were to be ready to go by dawn – with food, clothes, and other supplies they would need for the journey. The only thing Keith hadn’t prepared was he himself. He did not want to go off adventuring. He had only agreed to go so that he could keep Daileas out of trouble, and that itself, would be an adventure.

 

Blowing his red fiery hair out of his eyes, his breath creating a white cloud in the chill air, Keith sat up in bed. Moonbeams flooded through the large window in his room, pooling on the floor by the foot of his bed. The Maiden’s light made the cold, hard flagstones sparkle. He shivered as the cold from the floor seeped into his bare feet. A draft drifted across his uncovered chest and back, and penetrated the light leather pants he wore on his legs. Silently, Keith cursed the cool spring as he pulled on the shirt he wore to train, a jacket to keep out the morning chill and a warmer pair of bottoms. He needed to settle his nerves. He walked into a small room off of his bedroom, rubbing his arms for warmth. Glancing around the small area of his personal armoury – it had been his nursery before he was aloud weapons – he searched for his new blade. Keith knew that he would need to practice with it before he really needed to use it, and now was as good a time as any.

 

Finding it on a small table against the wall, he then slipped on his light chainmail. Keith sighed in annoyance when he realized that the metal links just barely covered his torso. He would need to order more, again. Why is it that whenever I need these things they are too small? The Warrior must enjoy embarrassing me. Keith thought rolling his eyes. With his boots laced, jacket done up under the too small chainmail and sword belt slung over his shoulder, Keith stepped noiselessly into the hallway. He tiptoed past Daileas’s door, slid down the banister to the main floor and sprinted with muffled steps due to the soft leather of his boots out into the tilt yard.

 

The grounds were empty. Not even the servants were up yet. Keith walked across the eerily quiet yard. Standing in the southern-most corner, he removed the blade from its scabbard which he tossed over by the fence and started his drill. He and Daileas had used it as a game when they were younger, pretending they were fighting another soldier – predicting their next move and acting before it came. He quickly realized the quality of his sword. With each lunge and parry against his imaginary attacker, the light-weight metal fluently moved like an extension of his arm. Moving towards to centre of the yard, he found it easier to grip and strike using this light blade than it had ever been with his old one. Changing directions he dove to the ground, only to roll and end up back on his feet. Keith felt his blood race through his veins as his movements came faster and with more confidence. The feeling invigorated him. He was so focused on his invisible opponent that a flash of light and a familiar chuckle startled him into stumbling to the ground, his sword skittering across the packed dirt. Keith glared at Seaver, who was perched on the fence holding his scabbard that flashed in the early dawn.

 

How did you even get up there? He thought with a smile – the fence was nearly twice the height of Keith – but aloud he asked, “What is it Seaver?” He stood up and brushed the dirt and dust from his sweaty clothing.

 

“That messenger left not long ago.” Seaver said. He turned the scabbard in his callused hands. His finger traced a vine etched into the metal. Keith picked up his sword and noticed the same design on the butt of the blade and the hilt. His eyes followed the intricate vines and leaves that wove around the metal. Keith wondered who had done it, it was beautiful. Remembering Seaver’s bland statement he snapped back to the present.

 

“That’s good. Did he have all he required?”

 

“Indeed, Master Keith.” Keith could tell the old man was holding something back. The man had a playful look in his eyes. He had even used Keith’s proper title.

 

“Is there anything else?” Seaver’s face lit up into a smile and he showed the gaps between his teeth. “Out with it man! I don’t have all day!” Keith demanded, quickly growing tired of the old man’s game.

 

“Indeed you don’t, Master Keith.” Seaver chuckled as he reached into his tattered coat. He pulled out a crisp white envelope that looked extremely bright in the hard worked hand. Leaning down to pass Keith the important looking envelope the stable hand said, “He gave this to me and told me no one else was supposed to see it. He wasn’t too happy to give it to a weak, old man such as myself. He must have feared that I would lose it.” Seaver’s friendly chuckle echoed around the empty yard.

 

“Why didn’t he just give it to me last night?” Keith wondered. Then he felt shame warm his face recalling that he probably hadn’t provided the messenger time to give it to him, walking out the way he had. Looking up at Seaver, he saw the man shrug.

 

“Not my place to say, Young Master.” Seaver shrugged again and Keith cringed inwardly hearing the return of that blasted belittling title. “If you’d excuse me, I must be getting them horses ready.” With that Seaver jumped from the top of the fence, landing on his feet and sprinted towards the gate and the stables.

 

“Um, Seaver, why are you—” Before Keith could finish his question, the old man had disappeared around the corner. Keith rolled his eyes. Seaver was so strange, but was the closest to a loving father Keith had ever known.

 

Suddenly remembering the envelop from the messenger that he still held in his hand, Keith shifted his weight and lifted it up to get a better view with the coming morning light. His name was scrawled across the front in silver ink: Dominic Keith Tine’la. Only the king of Curta used silver ink. Keith felt his heart stop. Only his father and his uncle called him by the name his father had given, everyone else called him by the name his mother gave him. His heart fell to the pit of his stomach. What did his uncle want now? Gingerly, he broke the royal wax seal and removed a piece of paper as white as the envelope. Quickly skimming the formal introductions Keith knew the king never meant, his eyes lit upon the single paragraph.

 

Dominic, you have come of age. As you well know, I have three daughters but was not gifted with a son. Thus, in accordance of Curtian Law, my successor is to be male and of the family line. You, being my brother’s eldest and most experienced in office affairs, shall be named my heir on the eve of the Winter Solstices during the festival of the Maiden. I expect you in the city of Koal by the Warrior’s feast. We have much to discuss.

 

Keith leaned heavily against the wooded fence that enclosed the tilt yard. Camshron was summoning him to become something he knew he could never be. He didn’t want to crave power like his father. He didn’t want to be like his father at all. Koal was where the Curtian kings had resided since the Kingdom’s Divide. Keith growled under his breath. He knew he had to go. There was no way around it. Hoping that he could prevent Daileas from knowing about his future, Keith tucked the envelope and its contents into his boot. If they left today, Keith and Daileas could reach Koal at least a fortnight in advance. Sighing, Keith closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the old wood.

 

The sun was slowly peeking above the mighty trees of the Curtian forest. The Warrior’s rays reflected off of Keith’s new sword, catching his attention again. He took in the stunning detail and pondered anew who had made it. Despite the fact that it had not leather grip, not once had Keith lost control of its movement, except for when he had fallen and let go of it. It seemed to fit his had as if molded that way. He turned it over in his hands, eager to see every angle. Keith’s eyes landed on an odd design. It looked like two rings linked together. There was something about them that made Keith feel stronger. The longer he gazed at the rings the more sure he was that this incredible blade was made just for him. Swinging it around and feeling its surprising weightlessness, Keith somewhat forgot the discomfort of his uncle’s words and grinned. Oh, this is going to be fun.

 

*****

 

“Hurry up! If I didn’t know you better, I would assume that you were a woman in disguise with all the nagging you’re doing!” Daileas called from atop his mighty gray horse, Ash, whose colour had inspired his name. Their saddle bags were loaded on their steads, their bellies full from a hearty breakfast, and their weapons were sharpened, shined and strapped to either their bodies or their packs.

 

“If you keep insulting me, I won’t go!” Keith shouted back with a smile. He and his brother might fight, but they joked more often than not. He was talking to Bruno, the cook and the other head members of staff, making sure that everything would be taken care of while he was gone. Planting season was coming and because of the cool spring they were having there was a chance of late frost. The sun was still trying to climb above the tree tops of the forest when Keith was assured that the planting and all other goings-on would be fine. With a final wave to the staff, many of whom he would consider family despite rank difference, he vaulted himself into his own tan horse’s saddle and raced Daileas to the main road.

 

“Hah! I told you Ash was faster than your Tracer!” Daileas laughed when they reached the road. He had only beaten Keith by a hair, but they were having too much fun for him to be mad, so he just laughed with his brother. Keith tugged slightly on Tracer’s reins to guide him north. Daileas followed suite with Ash. “I can’t wait to reach Tìrbogha! How long will it take us to reach Koal? I hope we get there in time for the Warrior’s feast! Mother always said it was an amazing sight! Do you think we’ll make it there in time for that?” Daileas’s excitement for travelling managed to drown out Keith’s uncertainty of what waited for him in Koal, but just barely.

 

“Yes, I think we should make it there in time for the Warrior’s feast. Possibly even before that.” Keith answered. He tried to mimic the enthusiasm Daileas showed.

 

“Hey, you got your sword didn’t you? Can I see it?” Daileas’s eyes grew when Keith pulled his blade out of its scabbard the bounced at his side. He voiced his approval with a low whistle. “How, under the Warrior’s Sun, did you come across a man who could forge like that? Veils, they must have had one steady hand to draw all that!” The younger boy gestured to the creatively decorated hilt and butt.

 

Keith smiled at his brother’s swearing and shrugged. “I honestly have no idea who made it. Seaver was the one who knew the smith. I really didn’t know what I wanted for a personal mark, but this is amazing! Maybe we could find them and get you one too.” He didn’t want to tell his brother about the linked rings just yet, so he kept that side out of Daileas’s view. There was something special – almost powerful – about that symbol and he decided that it would be best if he kept it his secret for a little longer.

 

“Really? Do you think that we could stop there and get me a blade like that? Of course the mark would be different. Maybe flames or a battle scene, no flames sound better…” Daileas continued like that for a long time. Returning the sword to its sheath that hung on his hip, Keith pulled out the matching dagger. It was similar to the larger blade with twisting vines and leaves but didn’t have the strange image. Twirling the dagger in one hand and then the other, Keith let his mind wander. It drifted past Daileas chattering about what he could do if he got a new sword, past the clam forest that bordered the main road, past the peaceful sounds that filled the air around him. His shaggy hair drifted in the breeze that flowed through the surrounding trees. He could feel the strength from Tracer as they shifted between walking and cantering. He thought about the maker of his magnificent sword and dagger. Then his wondered what would happen to him when he reached Koal.

 

The sun had eaten up the cool spring day and the boys had shed their cloaks. With the sun high in the sky, they stopped under the large trees of the surrounding forest to eat and rest. When they found a brook they tried Ash and Tracer to a tree close enough to water them, then the pair lounged in the shade eating some of the food the cook sent. The forest was alive with birds, squirrels and other little creatures that scurried on the braches above the brothers.

 

“I think I like traveling, Keith.” Daileas declared sleepily from his lazy position across some tree roots. The forest was almost as old as the land itself. The trees could have been hallowed out and made into home if one really desired to live in a tree. Keith sighed and nodded his agreement as he gazed up through the thick green canopy. He thanked the Maiden that it was too early for the bugs to be out yet. The bitters were very annoying.

 

Absentmindedly, Keith removed his boots to air out his feet, tossing them to the side along with his jacket and cloak. The air felt good on his stocking feet and the rest of his body. “I think that we’re near the village that Seaver’s friend lives in. We can stop there before we leave the region if you like, Daileas.” Keith commented, but his younger brother was already asleep. The world around him was so relaxing that Keith found himself nodding off. The birds sang a lullaby; the breeze shifting through the trees rocked him gently. His worrying over the future had tired him out and he gave into sleep.

 

A startled gasp yanked Keith from slumber. Looking around, he saw Daileas staring straight at him. Sitting up, he noticed his boots were off and vaguely remembered removing them. Realization hit him like a bucket of cold water.

 

“Um, Keith… What is this?” Daileas asked hesitantly as he waved the white letter and envelope that had once been in his boot. Keith knew he was found out and decided it was no use to either of them if he lied now.

 

“It’s a letter from Uncle Camshron,” Keith sighed. “He wants to talk to me about his heir.” About me being his heir, he thought.

 

“Were you going to tell me?” Daileas sounded hurt but showed no sign of it. His young angelic face was a cold as stone. It made Keith feel uncomfortably naked, like his brother could see through him.

 

“Of course I was. I—”

 

“When?” His brother demanded cutting him off.

 

“When we were closer to Koal?” Keith’s answer sounded more like a question. In truth he had no idea when he was going to tell him.

 

“Right. And then what were you planning on doing? Leave me by myself?” Daileas’s face betrayed nothing, but his voice was suspicious and his eyes were full of mistrust.

 

“Never! I don’t even want to go, remember?” Keith leaned back and rested his head against the rough bark of an extremely large tree. He looked his younger brother in the eye. “How can you think that I would leave you when we got there? Someone has to watch you back.”

 

“I don’t need anyone!” Daileas’s composure broke and his anger flooded his face. Both Ash and Tracer became uneasy, prancing and pawing anxiously. “I especially don’t need you!” He threw the white paper and boots at Keith before stalking off into the forest. When he was nearly out of sight he yelled back, “You lie and deceive! You are no better than Da!” With that the trees fell silent.

 

Keith fumed. He was nothing like their father! Angrily pulling on his boots, jacket and cloak, and then stuffing the Veil-cursed white paper into his boot once again, Keith stalked over to Tracer. The tan horse seemed skittish after the brothers’ argument. Tightening his sword belt, Keith quickly hoisted himself into Tracer’s saddle and without much thought took off into the forest – in the opposite direction Daileas had gone.

 

Not long after parting ways Keith needed to let Tracer have a break, even though his anger still flared bright inside. Tracer’s tan hide was wet with sweat and he frothed at the mouth. Locating a stream that followed what seemed to be a path. Judging by its condition, Keith guessed that it was seldom used. Quietly raging to himself about being absolutely nothing like his hatred-filled father, Keith removed his packs and weapons from Tracer’s back. The horse deserved some rest after running through the unforgiving forest. Tracer had to dodge twisting vines, fallen logs and large rocks while being pressed hard by a furious rider. Patting the strong neck of his horse, Keith apologized for being so irrational. 

 

He slumped against a tree and noticed for the first time that the sky seemed darker. He pushed the thought away thinking it was only his mind causing the sky to match his mood. What kind of king would I be if I cannot behave rationally when insulted by my own brother? Keith took a deep breath and willed himself calm. His nerves were starting to fray and only Daileas knew how to rip them further apart. Just as he felt his breath return to what was somewhat normal, he felt something cold and wet drip on his hand. Then another cold and wet drop fell on his cheek. Rain. Veils! You’ve got to be kidding! The rain fell faster. Keith gave an annoyed grunt as he stood up. He didn’t realize how fast he had gotten up until he fell back down on his bottom with a wave of dizziness. “Mighty Warrior and the stars above!” Keith cried when his saddle sores hit the damp ground hard. Tracer jumped and bucked at Keith’s outburst. With only the saddle to burden his retreat, Tracer charged into the forest. All Keith could do was stare after him in shock.

 

Almost as soon as it started, the sudden downpour stopped. Keith stood up with slow stiff, movements. What just happened? Shaking the water from his dripping hair like a dog, he secured his bow and quiver full of arrows across his back and placed his dagger next to his sword on his hip. Folding his surprisingly dry cloak and jacket into the top of a pack, Keith shouldered the rest of the packs. Not really knowing anywhere else to go Keith decided to see if he could find Seaver’s friend and possibly stay the night or at least get another horse.

 

“Well,” Keith sighed grimly as he looked up at the retreating clouds and the returning sun. He pushed through the wet forest and back towards the road. “I guess I’m walking.”

Chapter 5

Some of the Maiden’s warriors patrolled the sky as stars when Maggie awoke.  Despite the fact that her slumber had been blissfully without dreams, her mind still managed to drag her thoughts back to Aunt Heather and the fact that she would soon have to leave her home of fifteen winters. She crawled out from beneath the cozy blankets and shivered. This spring was one of the coolest she could remember. The freezing wood sent shivers through her body when her feet touched the floor.

 

With the slow return of the sun, Maggie started her stretches and other exercises that warmed her muscles. She might not have looked like it, but she could hold her own when it came to feats of strength. Usually she bested any boy that thought her weak and helpless and were foolish enough to voice that opinion. Once, the seamstress’s oldest boy had made fun of Maggie for working in the shop with her uncle. He had said that she would never be able to lift the hammer to pound the horse shoe. As it turned out, she could lift the hammer. She could throw it pretty well too. The boy had dodged the flying mallet at the last second and it hit the tree behind him. There was now a permanent divot in the bark where the boy’s head had been. Needless to say, the teasing stopped.

 

Where did I put my staff? She thought, looking around her small room. She often used her staff to loosen the muscles in her wrists and the rest of her arms.  After finding it behind the door, Maggie moved to the center of her room to prevent from breaking anything. In a series of high steps, wide leg swings, and twirling maneuvers, the wooden staff began to blur as her arms moved faster. When she could hear the rushing air and her pounding pulse in her ears, Maggie slowed her swift movements. Her breathing was fast and refreshing while her blood raced through her body warming her cold hands and feet.

 

Quickly trading her nightgown for an ankle length dress, Maggie returned her staff to its spot behind the door. It had been her aunt’s idea that she wore clothes like every other girl in the village, in case they got an unexpected visitor. Hiding her fighting ability under some skirts had saved her life, more often than not. Even if it had been only once, she thought to herself. Maggie sprinted down the stairs where she could smell a warm breakfast waiting. She got a hug from Uncle Will that almost smothered her, grabbed a plate of eggs, warm bread and a bit of pulled pork and plopped down at the little wooden table.

 

“Morning, Megs, my girl,” Uncle Will said cheerfully as he took the chair next to hers with a hot plate of his own. “Sleep well?”

 

“Not really,” Maggie replied truthfully. “When the other two get here, can you tell them that I’m not coming today? There’s something I want to do.”

 

“Of course,” The burly man sounded a bit concerned. His short, but unruly brown hair held a hint of grey by his temples, his clean shaven face had more laugh lines than actual wrinkles and his hazel eyes always held a smile. He reminded Maggie of a friendly giant. “Is everything alright?”

 

“Everything is fine. I just need some time to think.” Swallowing the last few mouthfuls, she got up and placed her dishes on the counter to be washed later.

 

Maggie went back up to her room and retrieved her basket of dirty clothes. Taking them out behind the little house she shared with her uncle, Maggie set the basket down by a large wash tub. She began pumping water from the pump next to it so she could do some laundry before she left. Dumping the clothes in the water, Maggie grabbed the bar of soap and washboard from inside their small multi-purpose wood shed. She whistled an upbeat tune while she scrubbed the garments in sudsy water in an attempt to help time pass. When the sun was not far above the tree tops, she had the last shirt hung on the line. Returning inside, and changing in to a clean pair of training clothes, Maggie started searching for something she hadn’t touched since Aunt Heather died. Once she had wandered around a few times, unable to locate it, she asked her uncle about it. “Have you seen my case? I can’t seem to find it.”

 

“Going out to play are we?” The big man grinned up at her from where he was inspecting a cracked chair leg. “I haven’t heard you in a while,” When Maggie stayed silent he sighed and returned to studying the defiant wooden leg. “I think it’s in Heather’s trunk, over there.” He pointed without looking up, to a large oak trunk with elegantly painted trim and brass hinges that sat in the corner near the kitchen cupboards.

 

There was a thin layer of dusk that Maggie stirred up when she lifted the lid. Her breath caught and she felt her throat close as she looked at the things in the old trunk. Dresses, dolls, blankets and books all slightly moth-eaten filled the oak box. There was the occasional pretty stone or a thin dagger. A strange contrast that made Maggie smile, it resembled her aunt perfectly. The case was near the bottom. When she carefully pulled it out, her heart began to feel heavier than the smooth stone that rested, hidden, beneath her rough cotton shirt. Aunt Heather had always loved to hear her play.

 

She grabbed her cloak from a hook by the door and flung it on. “Be back in time to work in town.” She called to Uncle Will as she hastily packed what would be her noon meal.

 

“Be careful, then, Megs,” came the rumbling reply from the bedroom. “I’ll let the other two know that you won’t be joining them.” Maggie silently thanked her uncle as she walked with purpose to the stables, her arms carrying her bag of food and the case holding her instrument. He always seemed to find a way to understand her when she needed him to.

 

Gregor shifted impatiently while Maggie wrestled with his saddle. Since she never really needed to use the saddle – usually riding bareback to the few places she went – her skills for putting it on were not the best. Her instrument would be safest if it was tied to the saddle. Soon, she had the saddle on properly, with her instrument strapped on tight. Gregor was rewarded with a handful of oats for standing through her efforts with the saddle. When she offered the treat, the horse shook his head and Maggie thought she saw him roll his eyes. “Oh, come now! It could not have been that bad.” She scolded him as she climbed onto his back. He turned his head to look at her, arching an eyebrow. Veils, this horse has more personality than most people I’ve met! Maggie laughed quietly as they rode off towards the burned ruins.

 

The canopy of green above her allowed only the sun to penetrate in a few spots, speckling the almost untouched path with random warm rays. The birds chirped calmly in the tall trees, and the water laughed quietly as it ran alongside Maggie and Gregor. She tried to take slow deep breaths so she could ponder what might happen when she had to leave. A smooth breeze tried to whisk away her deep thoughts but they held their ground. She had dropped Gregor’s reins a while ago to braid her hair and hadn’t felt the need to pick them up again; Gregor knew where he was going.

 

With a stronger wind tugging at her thoughts, Maggie pushed them away. Instead she focused on the large looming trees of the mighty Curtian forest. She had seen only a few maps in her life but each one showed the forest covering most of the country, from the mountainous border all the way to the Great Sea. Some of the trees were older than the country itself, meaning they had stood for thousands of years. On a few random trunks, vines climbed up them, trying to reach the sun beyond the leaves. This forest had been her inspiration when she had worked on the personal mark of that Tine’la sword. Maggie began to wonder, not for the first time, about the linked rings. She tried to search her mind for a meaning, but by the time the familiar, weather worn stones came into view, she had nothing.

 

Maggie slid from Gregor’s saddle with a contempt sigh. This place felt like a second home to her. She knew she would miss it when she left – whenever that might be. Gregor was tethered to a low branch on the outskirts of the clearing, that way he could just take a few steps and be hidden in case someone came wandering by. Maggie doubted anybody would come, but it was better to be safe. She removed the case from the rope that held it securely in place during the ride, and walked up to a somewhat level boulder about waist high. Undoing the buckles, Maggie was relieved to find that her fiddle hadn’t been damaged from the lack of use.

 

She pulled out the bow and tightened the horsehair that would make the strings sing. Then she rosined it to prevent it from slipping from the strings. After releasing the wooden instrument from the leather ties, she attached a shoulder rest and checked to see if it still held its tune. Maggie smiled when it was in perfect pitch. A quick glance into the surrounding forest told her that there was no one close enough to hear. For all she was shy around people in general, Maggie was twice as anxious when others heard her play. She stashed the empty case between some rocks where the grass was tall.

 

With a deep, slow breath, she brought the bow up to the strings. The sun gleamed off of the stained maple body and her fingers quickly found their places on the ebony finger board. Maggie’s spirits soared with the melody when she started to play and a smile came to her lips when she heard the sounds echo among the giant trees. She played through her mental list of songs she knew. Maggie laughed out loud as the notes carried her to a place of peace, a place she knew she always go when she needed to escape the world for a short while.

 

The morning passed quicker than she realized, and suddenly the high sun was covered by dark grey clouds. She didn’t really notice until a large drop of rain hit her forehead. Gripping the neck of her fiddle, Maggie moved with quick but careful steps towards Gregor as the rain fell faster and harder. Once under the protection of the foliage, she realized she had left the case out in the rain, but decided that it wouldn’t get that wet where she’d put it. Just as the rain was easing up, Maggie heard something off in the distance. “Mighty Warrior and the stars above!” A young deep voice echoed through the forest. Maggie froze.

 

The rain stopped. Maggie was hesitant to retrieve her case. Who else is in the forest? She caught herself asking, and then chided herself. “I’m just over reacting,” she said aloud to fill the sudden silence that hung in the air. The birds had quieted and the critters had scampered off to find shelter from the abrupt downpour. Only the light sound of water dripping from the leaves high overhead broke through the hushed forest.

 

Maggie thought that she best hurry and snatch the case before the owner of the angry voice decided to come strolling this way. Just as she reached the rocks where the case had remained dry and replaced her fiddle and bow, she heard the steady fall of feet and the snapping of fallen branches. Gregor noiselessly moved out of sight. Maggie’s heart skipped a few beats as she dove behind the old stones and peered between the cracks to see who was coming. She wished she had brought a weapon with her.

 

With the sound of approach becoming louder, Maggie could make out the shape of a man stumbling through the underbrush. She held her breath when he – it was a man – tumbled into the clearing. He was young, maybe a little older than her. His long hair was a mess of red and was slicked back out of his face as rain dripped from the ends. His shoulders were broad, but not so much so that he looked like he might weight lift boulders the same size as the ones she was hiding behind. His strong chest rose and fell with heavy breaths. His clothes looked to be of fine material, but it was hard to see with him mostly covered with mud. On his back he carried what looked to be saddle bags, a quiver and a bow. On his hip, rested a dagger and a sword.

 

He gazed scanned the damp ruins. When his piercing green eyes were almost looking straight at her, Maggie’s hand flew to her mouth to keep herself from gasping and the other found the stone under her wet shirt. The smooth pendent felt like it would burn her skin. Grabbing a hold of the leather band, she slowly pulled the necklace out of her shirt. She felt her eyes grow big as she took the soft glow that emanated from the palm size stone. Flicking her eyes back to the attractive young man, Maggie noticed that he had moved and was perched on a pile of rubble not far from her hiding spot. His packs were on the ground by his feet. From this angle he looked more like a boy than a man.

 

Just as she thought she could try and make a break for it and ask her uncle about the strange glowing stone, a very familiar head of black curls fell from the trees on the other side of the clearing. The red head jumped and almost toppled off the rock. Maggie tried hard to swallow her laughter. Little Laila was the youngest of the baker’s children, and even though she had seen only five summers, she had a better head on her shoulders than any of her four older brothers. Laila gave a girlish gasp and ran behind the closest rock.

 

“I know you’re there,” the stranger called with a surprisingly gentle voice. It was definitely the same voice that shouted curses through the forest. “You know that I saw you fall. Come here, I just want to make sure that you didn’t hurt yourself,” when Laila’s black curls peeked out from behind the stone, the boy smiled. It seemed to light up the dreary clearing. Maggie felt her heart skip a beat. “Come on, I promise I won’t bite you.”

 

With a small sigh, Laila timidly made her way over to the rock where the stranger sat. Maggie carefully poked her head above the rocks, caught the girl’s eye and winked. She giggled. Maggie ducked back down before the red head saw her. “What are you doing here?” Laila asked before he could completely turn his head. Smart girl, Maggie smiled. “You aren’t from around here, are you? I don’t remember seeing you before.”

 

The boy actually chuckled. “No, you’re right; I’m not from around here. I’m just passing by,” he got off the old stone and crouched so he was looking Laila in the eye. “Did you hurt yourself when you fell? You really shouldn’t have been in the tree, you know.” Her curls bounced as she shook her head in response to his question and Maggie released a breath she hadn’t realized she had been holding.

 

“Have you ever climbed a tree?” Laila asked with big eyes. “All the pretty girls climb trees around here,” her eyes flashed in Maggie’s direction and she giggled again. Maggie grinned back at the cheeky five-year-old from behind the rocks. The little girl leaned close to whisper loudly in his ear. “We climb trees to hide from the mean boys that chase us.” Maggie bit her tongue and covered her mouth with her hand to make herself remain quiet. I really need to talk to that girl.

 

The stranger laughed softly, but heartily and it carried over to Maggie, making it even harder for her to keep quiet. “Well, my dear,” he said as he sat her on the rock he had been sitting. “Tell me; are you any good at telling stories?” Maggie inwardly groaned. She would never get back to town in time to work, if Laila was going to tell one of her infamous stories. Slowly Maggie wrapped her hand around the case, and began to make her way back to Gregor in a crouch.

 

“Oh, yes!” Laila giggled and nodded.

 

“Do you know the one about what happened here?” he spread his long arms wide, gesturing to the ruined castle. Maggie, half way to the edge of the clearing, crouched even lower and didn’t dare move.

 

“The King sent troops here to destroy the castle,” Laila’s voice was hushed and she looked around nervously. “Apparently, the owners of the big castle made the King mad, so he came and burned it down. They burned everything,” The girl’s eyes lock with Maggie and Maggie smiled reassuringly. “At least that was what I was told.” She began moving again. Almost there.

 

The red head nodded. “Did you know that there was a baby saved in the fire?” his voice made Maggie’s breath stop. It seemed to echo off the old rocks, through the tall trees and inside her head.

 

“No,” the girl said slowly. Maggie all but ran the last few steps into the tree line. As quietly as she could manage with her shaky hands, she secured the fiddle case to Gregor’s saddle.

 

“Laila, darling,” Maggie called to the dark head of curls in her best impression of the girl’s mother. “Laila, your lunch is ready! Hurry up, now, child.” Laila giggle. The boy smiled. Maggie tried hard not to sigh.

 

“I guess I better go,” Laila said as she jumped down off the rock. “Thanks for the story, mister.” She called over her shoulder as she ran towards Maggie in the trees.

 

“Be careful when you’re hiding from mean boys in the future!” The stranger chuckled.

 

Before Maggie could grab the girl’s arm to pull her up in front of her, Laila seemed to remember something and ran back to the tree line. “Do you know the name of the baby who was saved?” she asked all innocence.

 

The boy smiled sadly.

 

“The baby’s name was Magdalene.”

 

*****

 

Gregor tore through the little village square, with Maggie clutching the squealing five-year-old. The boy's voice echoed in her head. He had said her name, and unless there was another girl around with the same name, that meant she most likely had some connection to a baby saved from a burning castle. The memories of her aunt’s stories danced in her mind. When they stopped in front of the baker’s shop, she tried not to shove Laila inside in her haste to get to her uncle. She wanted to ask why the girl had followed the red head, but questions she needed to ask Uncle Will won over her curiosity. She quickly place Gregor in his stall, and sprinted to the back door of the workshop. She hadn’t bothered to remove her case or the saddle, and highly doubted the spirited horse would mind the burden for a while longer.

 

Uncle Will was perched on a stool on one side of the giant anvil, hovering over a piece of paper that he tried to stuff into his pocket as Maggie burst into the room. She ignored the secret paper and looked towards the crowded square. The view from the wall that opened into the street showed another peaceful day in the village, even the blue sky was back. She felt the strange contrast to her mood with grim amusement. The blacksmith’s eyes that were wide with the shock of her sudden entrance, only grew bigger as she pulled the glowing stone from beneath her still-damp shirt. The necklace had seared Maggie’s skin since the attractive green eyes almost caught her.

 

Her uncle’s large hand grasped her small arm and dragged her into the closed in workspace. “Who saw you?” Uncle Will demanded as his lifted the leather band so he could get a better look at the dark stone around Maggie’s neck. The urgency in his voice didn’t match the excitement that played across his kind face.

 

Maggie struggled to find her voice. “I… I’m not sure who it was exactly, but I don’t think he saw me.” She felt a surge of panic clutch her chest.

 

“The timing of this is almost perfect!” The giant of a man bounced on his toes with excitement. He looked like a young boy opening gifts on the morn of Winter Solstice. “Wait, ‘he’?” he froze and then held up his hand. “Never mind, this no longer truly concerns me. Vika and Angus are leaving later this afternoon, you can go with them. I’m sure they would like an adventure. And Redd could help you, as well. But first you need to pack—”

 

“Uncle Will, what’s going on?” Maggie said exasperated. Perfect timing for what? What was he planning?  Through her jumbled thoughts, her original question came running to the front of her mind. Her hands found the leather band and lifted it up, closer to her face. “Why is the stone glowing?”

 

Her uncle sighed deeply and stilled his body, his face became solemn. “Megs, I don’t know much about your necklace. That was supposed to be Heather’s lesson,” a glimmer of sadness clouded his face and then disappeared. “But what I do know is enough of a warning for me,” he held his hand out again to prevent further questions. “Whoever you just met, he has an important part in your journey. Whether his influence will be beneficial, or disastrous, is for you to decide. This stone will help you make choices like that. But right now, all you need to worry about is getting away from here. The stone’s behaviour has just confirmed what I already suspected.” He pulled the crumpled paper out of his pocket.

 

This was a lot to take in. Maggie gripped her small workbench to prevent from falling. Uncle Will’s strong hands guided her back out to the stable and helped her into Gregor’s saddle. Before he sent her home, Maggie gathered her wits. “Wait, I—” she began but her uncle cut in.

 

“Megs, listen. You need to go home and pack you things. I’ll go tell the other two that you’ll be going with them to see Redd,” At her questioning glance he sighed and patted her leg. “It is too dangerous for you to stay here much longer, lass. Now hurry and get packed.”

 

“But where am I going?” Maggie still had questions but it seemed now was not the time to ask them.

 

Uncle Will reached and slipped a piece of folded paper into her shaking hands that had a death grip on the reins.  He gave a gentle slap to Gregor’s flank, urging him into motion, not giving her enough time to ask what it was. Before she was out in the busy square, she heard him call after her.

 

“You are going to find your family, Megs. You are going home!”

 

*****

 

Once Maggie returned home, she stumbled into the kitchen and collapsed into a chair against the wall. Her head swam, trying to make sense of what was happening. She sat up and unclenched her tight fists to rub her face. Something fell into her lap. It was a crumpled piece of paper. The paper – the same one Uncle Will had hidden from her when she had first burst into the shop, and later shoved into her hand – had to be more than just a simple piece of paper.

 

She picked it up and opened it. The words sprawled across the page with a delicate hand in blue ink. Who uses blue ink again? Try as she might Maggie couldn’t put her finger on the answer that lingered at the back of her mind. She directed her attention again to the letter.

 

My Dearest Magdalene,

 

If you are reading this, it means that your time has come. Today, you will finally start on a journey that was laid out before you were born. It must seem sudden and confusing, but your father and I have faith in your abilities to do your best. We know you will overcome the dangers you soon shall face.

 

According to letters from your aunt and uncle, you have received combat training. Those skills truly will be beneficial to your cause. You have also heard of the story about the burning castle. It is not just a story, daughter, it is your story. You are the babe miraculously save from a burning stone castle. Your uncle ran many leagues to our home, once he knew Camshron had set flame to it.  You can probably guess who that makes you.

 

Before you return to us, however, you must seek out the help of two remarkable women. They make their home in the Bogs that are fed by the melted snow caps of the mountains of the boarder. When the time is right, you will know how to find them. They shall help you to understand the power of Heather’s gift.

 

Your father and I have waited patiently for your return and we know that there is still time between now and when we are together again. Let the First Family protect you. The path set before you will have many challenges. Be brave, be strong, and do not let fear control you.

Your Loving Mother

 

Maggie felt her strength drain from her and pool on the floor at her feet. She reread the blue ink letter several time as she slumped against the little wooden chair. So many things were going through her head at one time. Those were the same words her aunt had said as she was dying. Blue ink was only for the Tìrboghian royals. The letter was from her mother. That made her mother Queen Anice Maria – unless she, and the queen, just happened to write with the only blue ink on either side of the boarder. Wait if my mother is the queen, then my father is the king. That would make me… Maggie gasped.

 

“I, am a McGregor?” She stated dumbfounded, bolting upright and almost falling off the chair. “I’m the Tìrboghian princess!” Her hand clutched the stone hanging from her neck. It thrummed and gave off a gentle heat, trying to soothe her pounding heart. The longer she held it, the better she felt. Soon, the questions that clouded her mind were burned away like the sun burns away the morning mist. A calm settled over her heart as the stone’s heat seemed to flow through her, like the blood in her veins. It was then she knew she could trust the stone to guide her. It was then Maggie knew she had a greater chance of finding her family than she had ever thought possible.

 

She rose from the small chair and marched up to her room with renewed confidence. Finding several saddle bags she had only used once before, when she had gone with her aunt to Koal for the festival of the Maiden, she grabbed clothes and stuffed them in. She packed some cloaks – you can never have just one – several dress, and all of her training clothes.  She threw in her hair brush, a bunch of leather ties, and other hygiene items. In the spur of the moment, she decided to ready her fiddle for travel as well. One never knew when music might come in handy.

 

Not long after her things were packed, and Gregor was loaded, Uncle Will came down the drive in a cloud of dust. Maggie, waiting in the doorway of the little house, had mentally prepared some questions she had for the man. He had done so much for her. Saved her life, even. Maybe he could help her with one last thing before she left.

 

When she saw the small bag her uncle retrieved from the cart, she knew they were her tools from his shop and her questions were almost swept away with a wave of sadness. I really am leaving, she thought with slumped shoulders. Maggie knew that he wouldn’t know the answers to her many questions; he had done so many other things to help her prepare to leave. She chose to think of what she needed to do. She took a slow, deep breath and stepped out onto the hard dirt of the road that led to the little house.

 

“You all packed?” he asked climbing down from the rickety wooden seat. Maggie gestured towards Gregor tethered to a rail outside the stable. Her uncle frowned. “I thought you could make better use of these than me.” He handed her the bag. She might need them. Reaching in the sack, she pulled out her small hammer with childish carvings down the wooden handle. She felt a shaky smile cross her lips.

 

“Thank you,” Her voice came out as a whisper. Maggie looked her big uncle in his deep blue eyes that reflected her sadness of leaving. She jumped up and threw her arms around his thick neck. “For everything. I’m really going to missed you.” The tears that she hadn’t know she was holding in, came rolling down her cheeks and splashed on Uncle Will strong body.

 

He sighed deeply. “I take it you read the letter.” Maggie nodded through quiet sobs. “Megs, you’re going to be fine. Vika, Angus and maybe even Redd will be going with you. You won’t do this alone,” he said. “Just promise me that you will be extra careful with that young red headed lad,” she looked up at him with an accusing face. Her uncle just laughed and put on a half-hearted look of guilt. “Laila was quite willing to tell me about your encounter. At least promise that you’ll keep your guard up with him around.”

 

Maggie laughed and the tears began to slow. Even though she was leaving him, he would find ways to protect her. “I’m going to take a wild guess and say that you told Vika about him.”

 

“Naturally,” His big friendly giant smile was back. “They should be here shortly. Now, come inside, I have a few things to add to Gregor’s load.” He nodded in the horse’s direction. Gregor looked over, hearing his name, and gave an annoyed snort in response. The two laughed as they walked back into the house. Before long, Maggie could hear two distinctive voices drifting through an open window from outside.

 

“Don’t be ridiculous! Of course the miller’s boy doesn’t like me.” That was Vika. Maggie smiled.

 

“Vika, you must be blind,” Angus retorted with a smile in his young voice. “His friends carry around a bucket for every time he sees you, in case he drools too much,” There was a cry and then the sound of a body hitting the hard packed dirt of the drive. “Ouch! Veils, what was that for?”

 

Uncle Will laughed. “We probably should get out there before one of them gets killed.” Maggie grabbed the little things he had insisted she take with her – a few maps, a kit for simple injuries and illnesses, and her Aunt Heather’s cloak. Her uncle told her it might help her carry things much better, but she didn’t really see how a plain woven cloth could be of much help.

 

Quickly, she ran out into the yard. There she found a cloud of dirt being turned up by a girl with waist-length dirty blond hair. Her face was a picture of red fury that reflected in the greenish-blue of her bright eyes. The boy, on the other hand, had a mop of dark blond hair that boarded brown reaching just past his chin. His soft blue eyes burned with amusement and the adrenaline of a good fight. Their clothes were rough cotton covered with dust from the scrap, while two pairs of soft leather boots had been cast aside for better leverage in the wrestling match.

 

“How are the two of you supposed to get to the boarder without killing each other?” the large blacksmith pulled them apart with little trouble and set them on the ground so that they were facing him. Vika was slightly taller than Angus, and never let him forget it. Both of their faces were smeared with dirt and sweat. Maggie laughed and hugged them both. These two were her cousins – and her closest friends.

 

Angus rolled his eyes and tried to wriggle out of the embrace. He was only twelve, but he had the strength of a grow man when the need came. His name suited him well – Angus meaning unnaturally strong. Vika smiled and hugged Maggie back. She was fourteen, yet had the imposing presence of a warrior with high rank. Her ability to find water was also uncanny.

 

Maggie broke away to give her uncle a last farewell. He picked her up and spun her around, her legs leaving the ground. She laughed as the air rushed in her ears and the blood pounded in her head. She looked into his friendly face and forgot what she was about to say. Instead, she kissed him on a clean shaven cheek and gave him on last hug as he set her back on the ground. She picked up the things she had dropped when she hugged her cousins and stuffed them into the top pack. She climbed into Gregor’s saddle and tied the bag with her tools to the rest of her packs. She put her bow across her back, and then strapped the quiver full of fletched arrows on her hip. She rarely used her sword but had it strapped to her left hip.

 

The other two were perched atop their own rides, their boots back on their feet. Vika patted Dagger’s black coat, as he pranced, waiting to run. Her daggers were hidden in sheaths strapped to her inner forearms, while her larger blade hung from her right hip. Angus swiftly mounted Scott, and brushed dust from his brown coat. His automatic loading crossbow was on his back and his own sword was on his right side as well. Both looked to Maggie for the signal to go. She took a deep breath. “Alright,” she said, turning Gregor towards to main road and yanked the hood of her cloak over her head. “Who’s ready for an adventure?”

Chapter 6

“The girl is alive?” A deep baritone echoed against the tall pillars, and equally tall windows of the King’s Great Hall.

 

“At least more than a dozen of your loyal spies reported her alive and well,” the High Adviser answered calmly as he smoothed the golden sash that was significant of his rank. His wiry frame matched the strands of grey hair that protruded at odd angles from his head. His face was that of carved stone and his grey eyes were cold. He was used to the man’s outbursts. “Unless these people, who have never even passed each other in the street, all decided to lie to you, I assure you that the girl lives, Your Highness.”

 

The king stood from the delicately embroidered silver cushions of the Curtian throne. His heavy steps shook the mirror like surface of the polished floors. The silver of his cape caught the sunlight that fell through the windows. He was a large man, but moved with moved with the agility and grace of a spritely youth. His strong face was bordered by a neatly trimmed beard of brown with bolts of silver. The curly hair that fell from beneath the royal crown had more silver than brown. His green eyes were dull and shallow. He cursed his younger brother. The dead man had just killed Heather, he didn’t even think of looking for the Crest. “Heather gave her the Crest.” He muttered. There was no other place it would be.

 

“Shall we capture her at home?” the High Adviser arched an imploring eyebrow. In his hands were a pad of paper and a quill that required no ink – thanks to minor magic.

 

Camshron shook his head. “No, Alec. If her time has truly come, then she is no longer with William.  She will be returning to Tìrbogha, taking that bloody stone with her!”

 

“Does she not need to come through Koal and Ajax’s Pass? Surly my bounty hunters will catch her before then.” Alec started to scribble something on the paper.

 

“You don’t get it, Alec,” the king punched a nearby pillar. “She’s going to ruin everything! All of these years of planning are gone without the stone. But the cursed First Family made the Crest so that only a McGregor could use its full power,” Camshron was staring out the window. His voice dropped to a whisper. “We cannot kill her. Otherwise the stone will be useless. Maybe, we could talk her—” the large door at the other end of the hall burst open.

 

“Father!” a giggling toddler tumbled into the room. Her doll bounced as she ran away from her nurse and towards her father. Camshron knelt down to catch his youngest princess with open arms.

 

“Lainey, my beauty, why do you run from poor Ella?”

 

“Oh, I wasn’t running from her,” the child told the king quite seriously. “I was running with her. Me and Ella are playing tag with Sara and Tori. We’re the only ones not caught yet.”

 

Just then, the other two princesses came rushing into the hall. “Aw, Lainey, no fair!” Sara cried. Her mouse brown hair was held back with elaborate braids. The silky skirts she wore were kept at knee height to prevent tripping when she played. “How come she gets to hide with father, Tori?”

 

“It’s alright, Sara. Mother said to meet her in the garden for tea, so our game is over for now. Come along, Lainey,” The eldest princess took her youngest sister from Camshron. She was a flower if he ever saw one. A spitting image of the queen. Her thin blond hair was braided like Sara’s. She wore a full gown of turquoise and light green. Her lovely face was kind and innocent. Seeing his daughters gave him new determination. “Will you be joining us, father?”

 

“Of course darling,” he gave his three princesses a warm smile. “Tell your mother I will be there presently.” The three of them waved to him as the left the Great Hall with Ella. He waved in return.

 

“You were saying, Your Highness,” Alec was beside the king again once the giant doors were closed. His quill and paper at the ready. “About the girl.”

 

“I was only going to say that the fact she is a girl would be to our advantage,” Camshron smiled darkly towards the mountain range that separated him from his enemy. Then his eyes caught his girls in the garden below. His beautiful queen and three lovely princesses. “The female mind can be manipulated a lot easier than any man’s. Just bring her to me alive. She will have the privilege of a choice between helping me or death. Make it so.” The Curtain King waved his hand dismissively towards his High Adviser, then made his way down to the garden to join his girls for tea.

 

It was only a girl. How difficult could she be? 

Chapter 7

The evening air was dull and cool. The sky was clear and it would get colder. Maggie knew that she had to find them somewhere for the night. The sun was slowly going down. Vika pointed out someone approaching, shortly after the first stars appeared in the sky. A boy, not much older than Vika, travelled with two horses. Maggie, on reflex, pulled her hood to cover her face, despite the fact that it was too dark to see anyway.  Angus struck flint to burn an oil soaked cloth at the end of an old branch.

 

“Greetings, fellow travellers! To where does your adventure take you?” the deep voiced boy sounded generally happy. Vika shot Maggie a look that said, what is wrong with him? and Maggie couldn’t help but smile. The meager light from the makeshift torch revealed the boy had dark hair not much shorter than Angus’s. His face was that of a child, but he had dark blue eyes that had seen things a child never should. The rest of his body was hidden by the cloak around his shoulders.

 

“Our adventure takes us north,” Vika snapped. Blue eyes just smiled back. “Do you think this is a game?” The girl was getting fidgety after their long ride and was in no mood for a chat.

 

“No, of course not,” he waved his hands in front of him to show he meant no harm. He seemed amused by their conversation. “North just happens to be the way I am going as well.”

 

“Hah! You must be lost,” Vika sneered. Maggie could tell she was warming up to this stranger. Vika pointed in front of them. “North,” she said as if teaching a young child. “South.” She indicated the direction the dark haired stranger was going.

 

“I know my directions, lass. I’m just taking a detour. Might you be headed for Koal?”

 

Vika looked at Maggie, who nodded. They would need to pass through the city to get to Ajax’s Pass. The only safe way through the mountain boarder was through that pass. “We might be.” Vika replied as she glared through narrowed eyelids.

 

“I look forward to meeting you again,” the traveller lifted a startled Vika’s hand to his lips and kissed it lightly before she could snatch it back. “Perhaps we will have time for a longer talk.” He winked as Vika yanked her hand away.

 

“I highly doubt we will ever meet again,” She snapped with clenched fists. Maggie gently, but firmly, placed a hand on Vika’s arm. The angry girl took a deep breath. “Safe travels.” Vika spat the words in his face. She nodded to both Maggie and Angus then urged Dagger into a canter. She would meet up with them later.

 

“Maiden,” Blue eyes sighed. “Is she always like that?” the boy looked hurt but hopeful. He was gazing after her like a lost pup. Longing replaced the amusement in his eyes and clouded over his face as she disappeared around the corner.

 

“You got a better first impression than most, trust me,” Angus replied. He was trying to hide his smile but was failing miserably. “Veils, the last person that touched her hand like that wasn’t able to use his hand for a good few months after.” He lost his composure and broke down laughing, but rode off to catch Vika before Maggie could give him trouble. The darkness began to creep in as Angus fled with the torch. The air felt uncomfortable with no light to show dangers lurking in the shadows.

 

The dark haired, blue eyed boy stared at Maggie in the failing light.

 

Maggie returned the stare. His expression changed from wounded to calculated. She reached and tugged her hood down further. He squinted, trying to see her face in the dying sunlight. A light breeze came and pulled at her cloak, threatening to reveal her face. She knew she should leave but something held her back. The stone gave off a burning heat. It wasn’t as hot as when she was almost caught be the red head, but it was hot enough to hurt the already burnt skin it rested on. A stronger gust came down on the two strangers on the dim road. Maggie held fast to the ties that held her fluttering cape around her shoulders. Gregor and the other two horses shifted uneasily.

 

 The boy didn’t seemed bothered by the wind that tore at his cloak.  It whipped around his body. His blue eyes tried to burn through her hood, but he still couldn’t see her face. Maggie made sure of that. She couldn’t afford to let just anyone see her face. Camshron would be looking for her, once word was out that she was returning home. He must have spies. She needed to be more careful with choosing people she could trust.

 

Another gust came. Maggie clutched Gregor’s reins, wanting to bolt as much as the horse. Then something caught her eye. Under the boy’s cloak was a sword. The sight of it sent shivers through her body. The stone changed temperature. It was freezing. The sudden coolness of it against her collarbone jolted her into motion. I really need to find those bog women, Maggie thought as she left the odd boy in a cloud of dust. She could feel his blue eyes boring into her back.

 

Vika and Angus were waiting behind a rock face on the other side of a small knoll. Vika paced in the grass while Angus lounged on the rocks. Their light burned bright, casting eerie shadows on the rock wall. Before Maggie could catch her breath or even try to make sense of what the stone was warning her about, Vika swarmed her with a verbal wave.

 

“What was that about? I mean, he had the gull to touch me!” Vika was  obviously shocked. She waved her arms about in the air.  Her voice echoed off the jagged rocks around them. “Who under the Warrior’s sun did he think he was!”

 

Maggie thought it best to change the direction of this conversation, before Vika decided to beat the living daylights out of the next unsuspecting person they met on the road. “Did either of you find it odd that he had two horses?”

 

“Maybe he was going to meet some body.” Angus waved away the concern.

 

“Or,” Vika jumped towards him, wagging a finger in his face. “He stole it, after he killed the previous rider!” Angus swatted away Vika’s hand. She began to pace again, muttering wild accusations. Maggie guessed it was to deal with her new emotion. The girl was obviously taken by this stranger.

 

This is ridiculous. Maggie tried to redirect Vika’s train of thought again. “The stone had a fit again.” Vika stopped in her tracks,  Angus sat up straight and both had eyes to rival an owl’s.

 

“Really? Was it like tall, red and handsome?” Angus was the first to talk. His teasing was one way to ease the tension of their situation. Maggie had told them everything. Possibly a little too much. She told them of the letter, her family, the fact she might be the Tìrboghian princess and of the danger they were sure to face if they came with her. Her mental assessment of Laila’s stranger might have slipped out in the process. But they knew of the stone’s reactions that had started when she saw him.

 

“After the two of you left, he started staring at me like I had returned from beyond the Veils. The longer he looked, the more I noticed it was warming up,” Maggie lifted the pendant from beneath her shirt for both to see it still glowing. “I didn’t get as hot as the red head, but it was still hot. Before I left, the wind blew his cape and I saw a sword hanging from his side. That was when it burned ice cold. The weird thing is, it took longer for it to become active. He was watching me for only a few moments when I noticed the stone’s heat. But with the other, I don’t think he even saw me, he just glanced in my direction and it left a light burn mark.” Maggie rubbed the place the stone usually rested as the stone itself dimmed.

 

After a few moments of pondering, Vika spoke up. “Well,” she said glancing up at the starry sky. “Where to next?”

 

“Next, we need to find somewhere to sleep.” Maggie replied pushing questions from her mind. The three of them mounted their tired horses and continued down the road.

 

 Not long after leaving the rock face they stumbled into a tiny village, smaller than the one they grew up in. The mounts’ hooves echoed through the quiet streets. The little square houses still had lights, but no one was outside. Angus pointed out a humble looking pub with a sign hanging by the road. It bore the words ‘Bed, Board and Beer’, while the sign above the door read ‘The Old Dog’.

 

“This place should be fine,” Maggie declared tiredly as she scanned their surroundings. She felt a whisper of danger at the back of her mind, but decided to brush it off.

 

“You’ve got to be kidding,” Vika looked from Maggie, to the old pub, and back with judgemental eyes.

 

“There is no way that you’ll get me in there! Does it look safe to you?”

 

“Oh, hush. Yes, I think that this place will be fine. In there is a warm meal and a cozy bed, so unless you’d enjoy a night like this in the woods,” – Maggie argued throwing her hand towards the starry sky and the woods behind them – “I’d suggest that you shut your mouth. Watch your back though.  We could meet someone who might not like me.” She said the last a little quieter as the warning sensation became more noticeable. They could at least have a warm meal. And a soft bed would be nice.

 

“Uh-huh, safe.” Vika muttered.

 

“Wait, what do you mean?” Angus had been scanning his surroundings before, but now seemed concerned. “How would you know if there was someone in there that wouldn’t like you?”

 

Maggie shrugged. “Just a feeling.” A steady thrum came from the stone and she cradled it with one hand. Her longing for a soft bead seemed to overpower the stone’s constant warning. Leading Gregor, Dagger, and Scott towards a rail that looked like it was meant for tethering horses, they found a stable boy. Angus gave the lad a few coins to watch their rides while they went inside to find out about a room. As he spoke quietly to the boy, Maggie decided to take her fiddle in with her. It was one thing she couldn’t afford to lose. As soon as the trio walked through the door, they were engulfed with many different sounds, sights, and smells.

 

Most of the tables in the dimly lit room were crammed full. The air held a unique blend of some kind of stew, spilled ale, and sweaty men. Thirsty patrons hollered for more drinks over a group of musicians  that preformed on a platform against a far wall. Robust women pushed through customers to receive orders and deliver steaming plates. There were a few drunkards passed out under some tables. The hearth was large, with hunting trophies hung on the wall around it or placed on its shelf. A fire burned brightly inside, but its light didn’t make it far in the crowded room. A very shaggy dog was curled up on the floor, warming itself by the flames.

 

So not to draw too much unwanted attention, Maggie let her hood slip off her head. People would remember a hooded figure more often than one face of many. They got a few strange looks as they pushed their way towards the bar. Many were probably wondering what a bunch of kids were doing out this late at night, and without an adult. Then again for kids their age, it could have been considered normal.

 

Maggie got to the tap first. Her grip on her case tightened. Maybe it would have been safer with Gregor. The horse might have bitten anyone who came too close. Maggie wondered if leaving the boy out with them alone was safe. The bartender sauntered up to her, bringing her out of her thoughts. His was a full head taller than her, and his pot belly jiggle as he walked. He leaned one arm on the counter. “What can I get you, doll face?” His beady eyes appraised her from head to toe. His breath stunk of cheap ale, and his rough beard showed ruminants of the drink, as well as bits of food from his last meal.

 

“How many rooms are available?” She tried not to cringe when he smiled at her. His teeth were a grotesque blend of yellow, rotting, and missing.

 

“Depends on how many men have you booked.” He looked her over again with a discomforting gleam in his eye. Maggie resisted the urge to either run back outside for fresh air or slap him until whatever senses he did have were gone. This man was disgusting.

 

Maggie straightened to her full height, which wasn’t much. “Just one room for my friends and I, would be fine.” She attempted a polite tone as she gestured to Angus and Vika. Both of them sent a death glare to the greasy man. If looks could kill, he would be dead twice over. His smile faded.

 

“Rooms are given after meals.” He grumbled and pointed to a sign behind him that stated just that. Maggie nodded her understanding and towed Vika and Angus to an empty table near the stage she had noticed when they first came in. She kept a close hand on Vika’s arm to prevent her from lunging at the next man who whistled at them. Her other hand remained firm on the fiddle case. Angus followed behind them as they shoved through the crowd.

 

Once they were seated, it took a while for a server to take their order. Maggie didn’t mind. It was nice to sit down without being jolted. A nice girl, no older than ten years, with what was considered modest attire – at least in here – came and advised they take the smoked beef sandwiches. She smiled a lot at Angus, who just sunk lower in his chair. Only when she left to get their food, did the boy relax.

 

“Hey, do you play?” a sudden voice behind Maggie made her jump. She turned and came face to face with a young man a good seven summers older than her. He was crouching down to look her in the eye as she stayed in her chair. When she just stared blankly, he sighed and pointed to the case she had set on the chair next to her. “There’s an instrument in there, right?”

 

Maggie nodded and glanced at Vika. Her friend just shrugged her shoulders. “I guess I play,” when the man’s face brightened, she added hastily, “but only a little.”

 

“Are you kidding? I bet you’ll be great. Come on, I’ll back you up,” he grabbed her arm with one big hand and her fiddle case in the other. Before Maggie could refuse, he had dragged her out of her chair and up to the small platform. He handed her the case and bent over another. Without much thought, she had her fiddle out, tuned, and resting on her shoulder, with her bow tightened and rosined. “Oh, name’s Aiden, by the way.” His voice matched his warm face.

 

Maggie hesitated, waiting for the stone to do something. It gave off a comforting heat. It was her choice. She decided Aiden was safe to trust. “I’m, um, I’m Maggie.” She stumbled over her words.  Aiden gave her a reassuring smile and motioned for her to start so he could join in with a box shaped string instrument. She took a shaky breath and pulled the bow across the strings.

 

The whole room fell silent, all eyes on her. Maggie felt her pulse in her throat as she played a traditional tavern song. When she let the last notes float across their heads, the room erupted in applause. Maggie gave a shaky smile and went to put her fiddle away. “Play another, lass!” someone yelled. The patrons broke out with whistles and cheers, calling for her to play again. She sighed and gave a questioning look to Aiden.

 

“Told you,” he grinned, showing a row of perfect teeth. Maggie gave a shy smile in return. “Go on, I’ll be able to keep up.” Taking another deep breath, but with more confidence, Maggie faced the crowd again. The first song that popped into her head was a fast one. Her heart kept time as people cleared the floor in front of the stage for dancing couples. Hands clapped and voices sang the well-known words. Maggie got so caught up in playing she almost forgot to take a break between each song for the dancers to breathe.

 

Maggie played a few more pieces before their dinner arrived and Aiden told her to go eat. As she returned to her companions, he took out another instrument. It was long and slim, with holes down one side. He brought one end to his lips and a high but dreamy melody drifted over the tables. An older woman, with dark hair and tanned skin, walked onto the platform and began to sing in a beautiful foreign language.

 

Maggie, Vika and Angus munched on their delicious meal. Someone at the next table said that the singer was from across the Great Sea. Where the sun burned white sandy beaches and it was hot year round. Almost everyone there had darker skin. The land was called Isles, for the cluster of islands that made it. The three travellers watched in awe. They had no idea what the woman from the Isles was saying, but her facial expressions told a story of happiness.

 

Once Maggie finished, Aiden dragged her back up again. The audience clapped and Aiden brought another instrument on stage. The base of it looked like the lid of a barrel. It had strings stretched up a long, thin neck. He plucked a few strings, making a twang. Maggie played tunes she thought would sound best with Aiden’s current instrument.

 

She was finishing her third song with the twanging strings when the door burst open. Three large men with swords clumsily concealed under cloaks walked into the full pub. A woman, about Maggie’s height strolled casually in behind them. They made their way to the back of the room, where an empty table waited untouched. Most people ignored them, like they weren’t even there, while others openly stared. Maggie felt her supper sink low in her stomach. Keeping her gaze steadily on her fingers, she copied the majority of the room and ignored them.

 

She looked up once done the song and locked eyes with the woman. Her copper hair was pulled back with a bunch of tiny braids that lead to a horse tail at the back of her head. Her thin form was draped with black, causing her silvery knives to stand out threateningly. She nodded to something one of the big men next to her said. Her stony hazel eyes bored into Maggie’s soft blues ones, making her shutter. Maggie took a hasty bow, packed up her fiddle, and thanked Aiden for accompanying her as she fled the small wooden platform. The air around her was cold, but Maggie wasn’t sure if it was from the stone that was giving her skin frost bite or from the recently opened door.

 

“We need to leave,” she whispered to Vika and Angus, digging for coin in her pockets. “Now,” Tossing the money on the table, Maggie led them back out into the cool night. Hurriedly, she removed the stone from beneath her top. In the darkness, it gave off a blue glow and it was freezing to the touch. The other two gasped. “Get the horses.” She ordered as she shoved the necklace back under the cloth.

 

They found the horses in the stable stalls behind the Old Dog. The boy was standing watch by the door. Angus thanked him and gave him part of a sandwich. He scampered off without a word.  Maggie had just finished strapping her case to Gregor’s saddle, when they heard the pub’s door open. She quickly peaked out the doorway and saw the light pouring from the establishment onto the street.

 

Four shadows soon blocked out the light. One by one they appeared in the street. Their bodies angled so nothing but shadows covered their faces. The woman’s copper hair shone in the warm light from the full pub. They slowly made their way towards the little building where Maggie and the other two were hiding.

Chapter 8

Slowly, the four shadows crept their way towards the stables, their boots crunching on the gravel as they drew closer. Behind her, Maggie heard Vika whispering to their horses. She had a strange way with the beasts. She was probably soothing them for the quickly thought-up escape. With several quick strides Maggie was next to Gregor in his stall, the reins of the three horses gripped tight in clammy hands. Trying to steady her breathing as the stone made her skin go numb with cold was a little difficult.

 

She nodded to Angus, who stood by the other full stalls. He returned it and let loose the horses. He slapped their hides as they ran out the back of the stable while Vika held the door. Maggie let Gregor, Scott and Dagger out with the other horses. All three humans dashed into the shadows of the empty stalls as the thundering sounds drifted out of the stables.

 

“Warrior! Where’s the wench?” a husky voice growled not far from where Maggie huddled in a pile of straw. Their soft leather boots muffled their steps. She hadn’t known they were even in the stable until she heard the man talk.

 

“Patience, Marco,” came another rough voice, it echoed around the room. Marco grunted. “The girl can’t have gone far. Especially considering her ride is gone, without her on it.” Maggie held her breath, hoping they couldn’t hear the hammering of her pulse.

 

“So she doesn’t have a horse,” a third male voice joined in. It was younger than the other two. “What do we do now, boss?”

 

“Now, dear boys, we split,” Maggie guessed it was the copper haired woman that spoke. She definitely had the commanding tone to be in charge of these men. “With no horse, she is either still in here, or already chasing the beast. Marco and Jay, you two stay here. There are only two ways out of this place, one for each of you. Andes and I will go find the horse,” Maggie heard two pairs of footsteps moving away from her hiding place. The woman called back, once she got to the door, “Remember boys, it is only one little girl.” Then they were gone.

 

Maggie felt her blood seething as it coursed through her body. She was no little girl. She knew it was only a rouse, but she struggled to keep a tight grip on her emotions. After the sound of horses pounding past the stable tapered off, the two guards seemed to relax a bit.

 

“I can’t believe we have to hunt down a girl!” Marco complained. Maggie prayed Vika could control her anger and not give them away. “If the money weren’t so good, I’d ‘ave said ‘To Veils with it!’. But a man’s got to live, huh Jay?” Marco barked out a laugh.

 

“Whatever you say, old man.” Jay was obviously the younger man, which meant the calmer one went with the woman. He didn’t seem too thrilled to be guarding the stables.

 

“Watch your tone, boy. Just because you’re related to her, doesn’t mean the boss can protect you from everything you get yourself into.” Marco warned as Maggie heard him shuffle towards one end of the stables. He dragged something across the floor and it made a loud creaking sound as it took on the older man’s weight. Jay only snorted and walked to the other door.

 

Carefully Maggie moved out of the hay and peered out the cracks in the stall door. She quickly located the other two. Angus was in another stall across the room, while Vika lay motionless in the wooden rafters above. Both were waiting for her to move first. She had to think fast. They wouldn’t have a very big window for escape. These men were armed and almost all of their weapons were still with the horses. Then an idea came to her and she tried to imagine the saddest thing she could. When she felt confident the tears rolling down her cheeks would stay, she began to whimper softly.

 

“Hey, Marco?” Jay spoke stiffly, alerted. “Did you hear that?”

 

“What, boy?” Marco’s response was sleepy.

 

“Like someone crying. It came from…” Maggie heard Jay trying to be stealthy as he approached her stall. She hoped she would look weak and afraid. She pulled her knees in close and began to shake as she tried not to laugh. A few moments later Jay’s head poked over the top of the door. “There you are!”

 

“Please,” Maggie hoped she sounded childish, letting more tears stream down her dusty face. The straw in her hair hopefully added to the affect. “Please, don’t hurt me.” She pleaded as the man grabbed her arm and roughly yanked her to her feet and out into the open.

 

Marco shot to his feet and knocked over the barrel he was sitting on. “Here now, what’s all this, then?” He marched over to them, confusion written plainly on his face. His lips twisted into a dark smile when he saw Maggie. “Ah, well hello there, princess. It’s a pleasure.”

 

“You speak treason, sir,” Maggie shook her head and tried to back up but Jay had a tight grip on her arm. “I am no princess. May I go now?”

 

“Maybe if you answer a few questions,” Marco spoke to her sweetly as he grabbed a chair and placed it in front of her. “Sit,” he ordered as Jay threw her onto it. She scrambled to sit up straight. “Why did you leave the pub so quickly?”

 

Maggie quickly fabricated a story. “My mam told me I was to play only a few songs and then come home.”

 

“Did you leave because you saw us come in?” he barked.

 

Maggie pretended to start and shift uncomfortably as she wiped salty water from her face. “My dad told me to stay away from people like you.” She hoped it was convincing. Her back was to the stall Angus was hiding in, so she made discreet gestures with her hands as she answered the man. In her peripheral vision, she caught Vika slowly shift into an upright position.  Just a little longer, she thought.

 

“Enough!” Jay snapped. He grabbed Maggie by the shoulders. She sucked in a sharp breath as he dug his fingers in. “Listen to me, girl, and listen well. We know who you are. You are trapped, with no escape. Playing games will only make it worse for you,” He jerked her closer to him. He whispered menacingly in her ear, “Don’t make this so hard on yourself, princess.” He shoved her back in the chair.

 

“This is getting tiring.” Maggie mumbled to herself. They were going to run out of time sooner or later. She gave Angus the signal for ‘be ready’.

 

“What did you say, girl?” Marco glared at her. Maggie simply smiled and didn’t say a word. “Why you—” She let out a high pitched whistle and both men leaped at her. Their swords flashed faintly.

 

She dove to the ground, rolling out of the way of their feet. They crashed into the empty chair but were quick to turn and rush at her again. Angus burst out of the stall and took on Marco, while Vika fell on top of Jay. Both men were taken by surprise and fell to the ground, their swords clattering away. Maggie was quick to get them out of reach and tossed them into an empty stall.

 

Marco tried to fend off Angus. They were a flurry of fists. Jay had no chance. He was face down on the floor with his hands held behind his back and Vika’s elbow putting pressure on the back of his neck. Soon he was motionless. Maggie tossed the girl some rope hanging from a nail and jumped in to help Angus. There was no way she would miss out on fighting. The three of them grappled for a while. Maggie received a few good hits, but managed to deal out more of her share. She got clipped by the man’s elbow before Angus got the older man pinned to the ground. The boy had his knee between the man’s shoulder blades and his arms in a tight grip.

 

“It was nice to meet you and all, but we really must be going,” Maggie looked Marco in the eye and wiped blood from her forehead as Vika helped Angus tie him up. “It was a pleasure.” With that, Maggie struck the weak spot of his neck and rendered him unconscious. They dragged both men into separate stalls and locked the doors.

 

“That was so much fun!” Angus panted as he wiped sweat off his forehead with his shirt sleeve. “But maybe next time, I’ll get to jump from the rafters.” Maggie smiled and shook her head. Angus could get a little excited sometimes.

 

“What happened to our horses, Vika?” she asked as they all walked out into the early night. A slight breeze caught the sweat on Maggie’s clothes and exposed skin, making her shiver. It could not have been more than a few hours after sun down.

 

“They should be not far from here, actually,” Vika responded as she dabbed a small bloody cut on her forehead. “If they listened, they hopefully will be waiting for us out in front of the pub.” They moved quietly back to the front of the building. Maggie gave a sigh of relief to see their horses leisurely grazing on a small patch of grass. Gregor raised his head and gave her a look that seemed to say, you look terrible. She just wearily shook her head and smoothly mounted her gelding.

 

“Your amazing, Vika!” Maggie tiredly told her as she replaced her hood.

 

“I know.”

 

The trio swiftly left the village. Maggie reached for the stone. It no longer glowed. It was the same temperature as the skin it rested on.  A steady thrum emanated from her strange stone. She pitied Marco and Jay, leaving them bound and locked in horse stalls, unconscious. Marco had said that he was being paid. That meant there were bounty hunters after her. She clutched the stone that hung on thin leather. One thought ran through her head again and again.

 

Camshron knows.

 

*****

 

Maggie spotted him before the others; the first and only life form that they had encountered since they left the village. With her, Vika, and Angus, all on horseback, it seemed strange that this traveler was without a ride. As he drew closer, she noticed he carried saddle bags on his back, as well as a bow. The cape of his cloak billowed in the wind behind him like a banner. His red hair blazed in the moonlight.

 

Maggie pulled up her hood, hiding her face. “That’s him!” she said quietly to her companions. Both gave her a questioning look. She gave a small gesture to Laila’s stranger who came towards them. Even though they were still a bit shaken from what just happened, they needed to be ready. They both exchanged glances and nodded. As they approached him, she could see clearly that he had to be around seventeen or eighteen.

 

“You there,” said the traveler, in a familiar voice. “Veils, I haven’t seen another soul all day! Now I have the pleasure of three. Where’re you all off to?” When he stepped closer to Maggie, she kept her head down so that she could see his face, without being seen herself. She had perfected this from years of experience.

 

“I was about to ask you the same,” said Angus, his unbroken voice sounded funny compared to the stranger’s. Maggie watched Vika slowly reaching down to her hip, where she had placed one of her daggers. The shy girl moved Gregor closer to her friend, and placed a hand on her arm to calm her down. Maggie wasn’t sure she could trust him yet, but the last thing they needed was another fight. “We’re going up north, to find family.” Angus replied. It wasn’t a lie. And they couldn’t risk the whole truth.

 

“Same,” cried the red head, “Except I’m going to meet up with my brother in Koal.” He pointed towards the village they had just come from. Before Maggie had moved, he didn’t even notice her – except counting her as one of the first people he had seen all day. But now he looked at her with interest. Vika noticed immediately, and stepped Dagger in between them.

 

“Then you’re lost,” she said, trying her best to sound polite, but failing. Looking at Maggie, Vika asked, “Which way would one go to get to the capital fastest?” Maggie thought for a moment, then raising her arm, she pointed in the direction that they were going. “See,” commented Vika, “You’re way off. You best turn around, unless you are taking a detour.” She put sarcastic emphasis on the last word. Probably to mock the dark haired boy from earlier in the evening. Seeing the look on his handsome face – a mixture of astonishment and embarrassment – Maggie smiled under her cloak.

 

Then she noticed the sword under his cloak. She waited for the stone to give her another burn or frost bite, but it only gave a comforting thrum as she lightly placed her hand on it.

 

“Well… I’m going to visit a friend who lives around here.” He didn’t seem quite sure of himself. His emerald green eyes wandered back in Maggie’s direction. She thought their eyes locked. Her heart almost jumped out of her rib cage. He couldn’t possibly see her face, could he? She felt a blush burning at the base of her throat, working its way up to the roots of her hair.

 

Vika cleared her throat and looked like she was going to throttle him.

 

“Pardon my rudeness,” He cleared his own throat and held out his hand towards Angus. “Thanks for the chat. Traveling alone gets boring.”

 

“Don’t mention it,” replied Angus as they shook hands, “Pleasure meeting you. We must get on our way, and you better too. Half the stars will be out soon.” Facing the girls he said, “Let’s go.”

 

“Thanks again, lad,” His voice carried through the night around them. Angus cringed, he hated being called that. He just waved his hand as a sign of farewell – Maggie knew that he didn’t have anything nice to say. The red head’s green gaze found Maggie again before he strolled off down the road. Her breath momentarily caught. Vika grumble about the stupidity of certain attractive travelers, and Angus didn’t seem too thrilled about the encounter either. They moved north again.

 

After looking behind them awhile later, Maggie took off her hood with a sigh of relief. That boy was going to be trouble. The fact that the stone hadn’t reacted at all gave her a feeling of unease. He had looked right at her and nothing had happened. Maggie retrieved the stone so she could hold it. I hope it won’t take too long to find these women, she thought tiredly, there is so much that I don’t understand about this thing.

 

They led their rides into the woods near the road, looking for water and a good place to set up camp. Vika quickly took the lead and within a few minutes they came across a small creek, winding through the roots on the forest floor. Tethering the horses to some low limbs, they unloaded their things. Before long Angus’ fire was roaring, Vika had the tents up and Maggie was watching their dinner cook over the open flames.

 

“Red head, back there was strange,” announced Vika.  She sat on a rock taking off her boots and placed her feet in the creek. She sighed as the cool water hit her feet. “I don’t think he’s all there.” She tapped her forehead.

 

“I don’t really like him,” agreed Angus, tossing a few more sticks on the fire. “He must be a noble.”

 

“What noble doesn’t have a bunch of servants flocking after them? He didn’t even have a horse.” Vika countered.

 

“He’s definitely a noble,” Angus replied through a yawn. “Unless he stole all that nice stuff he had. Maybe he’s a special kind of noble.”

 

“Hah, he was special alright,” Vika gave a yawn of her own. “What do you think Maggie?”

 

Maggie didn’t say anything. She just wanted to start climbing a sturdy tree to think. She needed to sort out the things that were bouncing around in her mind. Instead she rummaged through her things until she found her fiddle. A melody drifted through her head as her fingers found their places. Vika and Angus crawled under their blankets and started to relax. The frogs from the creek added to the lullaby. The wind rustled the leaves to a steady rhythm. The notes were soothing for sore and tired muscles, and strained minds. Soon both the horses and her cousins were asleep. But she was not tired. She kept playing, even when the moon was high up with the stars. The stone seemed to pulse with the beat.

 

The sky was open and clear that night, and her melody could be heard from all around, even by the ears of lonely travelers.

Chapter 9

Keith walked through a field; it was just hours after sunrise. His red shaggy hair drifted across his forehead as a slight breeze picked up. The weight of his sword at his waist was a constant reminder of why he was so far from home – and why he was alone. His leather hide boots were damp, as well as the bottoms of his legs, from the early morning dew. He felt the weight of his saddle bags, his bow and quiver that bounced against his back. His cloak swished behind him as he made his way towards the forest. Or at least he thought it looked like a forest.

 

The sun was hiding in the clouds. The landscape was as well. Everything was blurry and unfocused, including Keith’s mind. He was truly lost. He had no idea where he was; everything looked the same. He should have stayed with his brother. At least he would have slept somewhat last night instead of tossing and turning in an old pile of hay. They might have fought, but at least he would be a little more awake and alert.

 

Keith was kicking himself. “Stupid!” he chided. His thoughts were on the odd people he had met the day before. How could he have allowed those travelers to find out that he was lost? He knew exactly how; it was that quiet hooded leader. They were mysterious; not showing their face throughout the whole conversation. The only way that he knew that cape was a person, was because he saw a hand come out of its sleeve and point in the direction of the easiest way to the capital. It had been, without a doubt, human. He had thought about this strange person all night; one of the reasons he had hardly slept at all.

 

That, and the fact that he had left Daileas alone and had lost his horse.

 

From the mist where the edge of the field met the woods, Keith could make out something coming towards him. Before he could react a brown horse bolted at him, coming out of the clouded trees. It pranced around him. It seemed to think this a game. Keith could see a shadow come running into the mist and stop just before the fog faded in to the field. It didn’t make another move as he tried to catch the blasted horse. With a sharp whistle, the horse returned to the clouds on the ground, followed by the confused gaze of Keith. Why don’t horses like me? Keith thought a little annoyed that yet another steed fled from him. Squinting into the haze he could just make out the horse receding and a dark silhouette. Within a heartbeat it turned and ran, revealing a thin figure with long hair, and a cloak flowing behind.

 

On instinct, he dropped his packs and followed the dark stranger. Running blindly into the misty forest, Keith called after it. He quickly dodged trees that seem to jump out in front of him. His feet sometimes slipped on the damp undergrowth and occasionally tripped over a root or stone. With the shadow still in his sight, he heard more sharp whistles. Then another shadow appeared in the distance to his left. Soon another was on his right. Including the one he was chasing, Keith counted three. Three… What were they exactly? Keith looked back in front of him, but the mysterious figure and horse had completely disappeared.

 

Keith stopped dead in his tracks. His forehead was shining with beaded sweat and mist. His clothing stuck to his damp skin.When was the last time I ran like that? His breath rushed in, burning his throat and making his chest rise and fall quite fast. He could hear a voice among the trees echo, “Just like tag back home!” The laughing voice was slightly familiar, but he couldn’t place it. He started to turn slowly, looking for the shadows, but everything was still and quiet. Not a thing stirred.

 

Just as he began to wonder whether he was seeing things, he saw one run between some trunks. Then another whistle, sharp and high, coming from the branches above. When he looked, he barely caught a glimpse of a cloak whisking behind the largest part of the tree in front of him. The final figure ran through the trunks. Taking turns with the first; both appeared and disappeared behind the trees that surrounded him. The spinning made him dizzy.

 

With frightening speed, an arrow whizzed past his head. It just missed his shirt and was lodged in the tree not that far from where he was standing. That made up his mind; he was definitely not imagining this at all. He broke into another blind run. As he looked over his shoulder he saw the shadow from the branches jump down to retrieve the arrow. Now he was scared. He wished that he was with Daileas again – a very rare wish.

 

Maybe they were tree dwellers, human souls that had been trapped by major magic and not yet found by the Veil’s Guard. Or maybe they were people that Daileas had come into a tight spot with. Keith had many more possible explanations but he couldn’t think straight, his thoughts all melted together. His legs were becoming numb – how long had he been running for? With a quick glance around, he saw no sign of the shadows. He slowed down to hide behind the first big tree he found. Catching his breath, Keith tried to hear them running; on the ground or in the branches. He heard nothing. He carefully peered, through his red shaggy hair that clung to his face, around the trunk of the tree – nothing. Strange, he thought.

 

Replacing his back to the cool surface of the tree, he heard a single sound echoing throughout the woods – an arrow flying through the crisp morning air. Closing his eyes it hit the tree right next to his head. Once he was sure that he felt no pain, he deemed it safe to open one eye at a time. Upon opening them, he saw that the archer had missed his mark. This was the weirdest game of tag he had ever played.

 

He knew he should run, but when he tried he realized that the archer had, in fact hit their mark. The collar of his shirt had been snagged by the arrow and he was caught. As he reached over to pull it out, another arrow caught his sleeve, and then a third came to snag the other sleeve. Now he was trapped.

 

Looking in the direction where the arrows had come from, he saw the shadows side-by-side in the branches above him. One of them with long hair jumped, and pulled up a hood. Removing two daggers from their hips in mid-air, the shadow landed on their feet just in front of him. Patting him down, they revealed his sword, taking it out of it sheath and throwing it to the ground, along with the matching dagger.

 

“Why were you chasing her?” asked the familiar feminine voice, the very same that had called this shenanigan a game of tag. Her daggers were gleaming in the few rays of light that had pierced the thick fog. Her hood covered her face, but he could hear the snarl in her voice when she loudly demanded, “Answer! Why were you chasing her?”

 

Keith was too stunned to think straight, but he managed to say, “Who?”

 

She laughed as she turned and motioned for the second shadow to come down. The archer sat on the branch, watching. His second interrogator did almost the same entrance as the first; pulling up the hood to hide their face. But instead of daggers, they produced a crossbow and had a shield strapped across their back. While the girl pointed her daggers at him – one at his throat, the other at his heart – the new shadow held their crossbow at the ready.

 

“You say that you don’t know who you were following?” Demanded the second familiar voice he had heard since the point he was captured. Keith moved his head up and down stiffly. “Then why did you follow her in here?”

 

It was a perfectly clear question, but it was one that he didn’t know the answer for. He had to think for a while – but the one with sharp knifes ensured that it was a very short while. “I guess I was curious to know who was hiding in the mist.” he replied. Not the whole truth, but it was close enough.

 

“You didn’t want to hurt her at all? You seemed pretty determined to catch her.” Daggers sounded suspicious, “Are you even capable of telling the truth? I don’t trust you.” As she inched closer, a new voice called from the tree tops.

 

“Let him be. He says that he was just nosing about. He doesn’t mean any harm.” this voice was feminine, clear and yet unsure. They all looked up to see the final shadow standing, placing the bow on her back and preparing to jump down. As they looked up, the hoods slipped off the heads of his captors. Immediately Keith remembered that the first two voices belonged to those of the travelers he had met the day before.

 

Watching the third jump down, he wandered what the mysterious person would be like. She landed on her feet like the others and Keith saw a quiver full of arrows on her hip. Touching Daggers on the shoulder the new shadow nodded. Daggers and Crossbow put their weapons at their sides. Daggers was hesitant at first, but eventually she did as she was told. The Hood walked over to him, pulling out the arrows with nimble fingers. He soon was released. He could have – should have – ran, but he didn’t.

 

Instead, Keith leaned against a tree, trying to catch his breath and slow his heartbeat. He clenched his fists to hide how much his hands were shaking.

 

“Decided to turn around after all, I see,” snapped Daggers. Her blades were back on her hips and her arms were crossed. Next to her the ‘lad’ that had been nice to him on the path was staring at him with a severe look of mistrust. He decided that now was surely not the best time to tell them of his rank – the oldest nephew of the King – and the fact that at the next town or settlement they came to he could have them arrested. He took a shaky breath, definitely not the best time to say something like that. Keith wanted to get out of this mist-filled forest and away from these shadows, alive.

 

“Hush now, Vika. Will you please go check on the horses?” said the Hood, with a bit more confidence. “Angus, will you go and fetch his packs? Their out in the field. We leave before the sun gets too high.”

 

“Are you sure we can trust him?” Vika asked quietly as she stabbed an accusing finger at him. Hood lightly placed a hand on her collar bone, but snatched it away quickly.

 

“I think you should ask her later, Vika.” Angus offered as he wandered in what Keith guessed was the direction of the field. Vika glared knives at his disappearing back.

 

“You need to make sure Gregor’s still there,” Hood said gently and patted Vika’s shoulder. “Please. He won’t get far, I promise.” The girl grumbled and stalked off angrily into the fog. With mouth agape, Keith watched Vika fade into to a distorted shadow and then she was completely gone.

 

He returned his attention to the girl who liked to hide under a hood. She had picked up his blade. It moved fluently as she swung it around with practiced hands. Huh, he thought, a girl that knows her way around a sword. She began to examine it, taking in the sharpness of the blade. “It is beautiful, is it not?” Keith asked carefully. He didn’t want her to keep it. The fabric shifted like the head underneath it had nodded.

 

Then she froze and his fine sword dropped to the ground a few paces away from where she stood. “Blessed Maiden!” she swore, and Keith was hard pressed not to smile. She whipped around to face him and gasped, her hands disappearing under the hood as she covered her mouth. “Oh, I—I’m terribly sorry.” She physically shook herself, and bent down to retrieve the dropped blade and the similar dagger.

 

Keith tried to keep the confusion off his face. This person hiding under the hood had to be hiding more than just her face. He watched her as she gripped the hilt so tightly that her knuckles turned white. Then, she realized that he was watching her and quietly handed them both over. Keith put them back in their sheaths at his side. “Um, thanks.” He didn’t know what else to say.

 

“Sorry about all that. They can sometimes be a little over protective.” said the hooded girl inspecting an arrow. Now that they were gone she was timid again. Almost like she was afraid of him.

 

“No harm done,” he said as he openly stared at her. She must have seen it or felt it or something because a full blush came to the only skin he could see – the base of her neck.

 

“I didn’t hit you, did I?” She circled him, looking for any sign that one of her arrows had pierced his skin. Her fingers lightly brushed his arms and his shoulders. He felt himself repress a shiver.

 

“Just a few holes in my shirt is all.” Keith watched to see her reaction.

 

Her blush deepened as she said, “Oh, I can mend that for you. I guess I’ve gotten better with my aim.”

 

“You didn’t hit me on purpose?”

 

“Of course not!” She sounded shocked that he would even suggest it. “Having you come with us without a horse will slow us enough. We don’t need you wounded.”

 

“Wait,” Keith was slowly remembering why he wanted to run. Becoming a prisoner was the last thing he needed. He could only imagine the king having a fit once he found out that Daileas had made it to Koal without the man going to be announced heir to the Curtian thrown. Then he remembered why he hadn’t run. He was helplessly lost. He tried to forget about the part where Vika or Angus would kill him if he tried to escape. “I’m coming with you? I need to meet up with my brother. You can’t kidnap me!”

 

The cloaked figure sighed impatiently. “Yes, I can,” Keith tried to protest but she cut him off by holding up her hand. “You will officially be our prisoner once we bind your hands. I don’t know if you can be trusted yet. And besides,” she shrugged, “Now all you have is literally the clothes on your back. You clearly have no idea where you’re going and without a horse, you won’t get much farther without getting robbed. You won’t stay alive to meet your brother, and you probably won’t make it to the next village, so you’re coming with us. Next time you see a stranger, it might not be best to follow. Come on back to the camp with me, and I’ll fix your shirt.”

 

Before he had a chance to say ‘no’, she was off again, disappearing into the mist. “How fast can one girl be?” He asked himself quietly, as he followed her hurried steps back to the campsite. He kept his left hand on the hilt of his sword while they waded through the thick white stuff.

 

Keith sent up a silent prayer to the Warrior, asking for aid in surviving with these three fighters. He gained hope as the sun began to burn away the mist, like an answer from the god.

Chapter 10

Maggie’s heart was pounding. A Tine’la! She thought as they made their way through the quickly evaporating mist. Unless he stole that sword, this man walking behind her was Seaver’s ‘Young Master’. When she had picked up his sword, she immediately knew it was the one she made and once she saw the linked rings, she knew without doubt.

 

Maybe she should have wounded him.

 

“Where are you taking me?” the Tine’la demanded as he stumbled over yet another root.

 

“As I have already told you, we are going back to our camp to fix your shirt. Unless you would prefer it full of holes.”

 

“That’s not what I meant,” he sighed, annoyed. When Maggie didn’t respond he explained further. “How far are you taking me?”

 

“No farther than where you are to meet your brother.” Maggie replied shortly. Neither spoke until they reached the camp.

 

Maggie saw that the horses were packed and saddled. Vika was leaning against a tree, looking very threatening. Angus was over with the horses, tightening the packs. Neither looked up when Maggie walked in to view. It didn’t really bother her that much; she knew that they had no use for this stranger with red hair. She found she didn’t either.

 

“See we have a new friend,” remarked Vika. He was clearly not used to dry humour; she could see it in his face.

 

“He’s not a friend,” replied Maggie. She was bending down to get a needle and thread out her pack, “I’m just mending his shirt. And I can’t very well do that without my needle n’ thread, now can I?” She flashed a teasing smile over at her cousin from under her hood, trying to lighten the mood a bit. Then motioned for the Tine’la to follow her to the creek.

 

The only sounds were the babbling water, the birds chirping in the late spring air and Maggie’s pulse – she hoped she was the only one who could hear that. Taking her bow off her back and quiver from her hip, Maggie leaned them against a tree. She took off her cloak and hung it on a short branch. Her long blond hair had been in a braid the night before and now had many waves throughout it, as it fell over her shoulders and spilled down her back. She felt his stare on her back. “Laila was right!” the Tine’la gasped behind her. As she turned around, she caught him quickly averting his eyes. She tried to repress a smirk.

 

“Who’s Laila?” Maggie was generally curious to hear what his answer would be.

 

“Huh? Oh, she was a girl I met on my travels. She told me—” He stopped himself.

 

“What did she tell you?”

 

“Nothing.”

 

Maggie knew she was being a bit mean. She tried to bite her tongue, and focus on the task at hand.

 

“Unless you like that shirt enough for it to be sewed to your skin, I’d suggest taking it off.” she said as she sat down on a large root and threading her needle. This wasn’t as hard as she thought it was going to be. It was only talking. Just like talking to Uncle Will or Seaver… almost. Except it was he was a Tine’la.

 

Laila’s stranger gave a deep, gentle chuckle as placed the sword next to her arrows. Her heart fluttered in her stomach. He started to pull his shirt over his head, and then laughed when it got stuck. Maggie sighed, standing to help him. As she placed a hand on his chest, trying to steady him while using the other trying to untangle his arms, he froze. She tried to ignore hard muscles under her hand. He let her guide his arms out of his shirt, and allowed her to help him take it off his head. Her cold hands burned from the heat of his body.

 

Their eyes met. He was staring down at her with gleaming emeralds. Her breath caught in the back of her throat, and her cheeks began to burn. Maggie was suddenly aware of how close they were. She quickly averted her eyes and moved away. She sat down on the root again and went to mending his shirt. He came and sat next to her, watching her work with curious eyes. Occasionally, he stole a glance at her face. He thought that he was being sneaky, but Maggie could feel his gaze on her. She tried to steady her breathing, as the stone pulsed calmingly.

 

“What’s your name?” Maggie asked in a quiet voice.

 

The red head gave her a look that suggested he wasn’t sure whether to trust her or not. She had the same feeling. Eventually, he just shrugged. “People call me Keith. What about you? What is your name?” He watched her openly as she thought how to respond.

 

“Some people call me Maggie.,” Maggie looked up from her work to see his face quite close to hers. “Can you please stop wiggling? I’ll stab myself and you’ll have a shirt full of holes with my blood on it.” She felt a blush and he grinned like it was a game.

 

“Oh, sorry.” Keith whispered softly as he brushed a stray blond hair from her face. She didn’t like it one bit, or at least she told herself she didn’t. Maggie returned to her work, without as much as a glance in his direction. “Are you a wood nymph?” he asked suddenly.

 

“Why would you think that?” Maggie asked without looking up. She swallowed the laughter that rose in her throat. She was going to try to not let him get to her, no matter how long she was stuck with him. She felt a set of eyes tracking their every move, and couldn’t manage to hold back a smile.

 

“Well, because you remind me of the ones in stories. You know,” Keith elbowed her slightly, “The mysterious creatures said to lead a human to their fate. Appearing and disappearing with the mist. Living in the trees. Stuff like that.” He looked her way just as she finished mending the holes that her arrows made.

 

Holding up the shirt she said, “There, good as new,”

 

“Wow, you’re good!” Keith exclaimed, standing to put his shirt back on.

 

What Keith didn’t realize, was that Vika had seen everything. Maggie had felt her watching, but thought nothing of it. She knew Vika could be a little bit too protective. If she told anyone to back off, they would without further question. The girl had that flair about her. Vika was very suspicious of this stranger Maggie was talking to. It had been plain on her face, but Keith had no clue.

 

Turning around to look over her shoulder, Maggie called to her friend, “Alright Vika,” Keith shot her a look that seemed to say, you knew she was there? “I’ve asked him my questions, you can take him now.” Vika appeared from behind the closest tree, making sure that her dagger was gleaming in the early morning light. “Vika, Keith,” Maggie introduced them, nodding to each in turn. “Keith, this is my cousin Vika.”

 

“Charmed,” Vika smiled, amused, she was laying it on pretty thick for a first meeting. She moved out of the shadows and picked up his sword before he could move for it. “Keith, was it?  Because you made us a bit late, with that little misunderstanding, you get to go help Angus finish cleaning up. Oh and do make sure that you don’t rip that nice shirt on your way back.” She was waving her dagger casually. Maggie had to smile when she saw that look on his face as Vika ordered him around.

 

“Little misunderstanding?” he openly gaped at her, “I was almost killed!”

 

“But you weren’t,” Vika shifted her weight and place her hands on her hips, a small mocking grin on her lips, “Trust me, if she was aiming to kill, you’d be long dead by now.” She nodded towards Maggie. Without another word Keith walked in the direction of their camp, with the funniest look on his face as he glanced back at Maggie. “Well, I said it before and I’ll say it again; he’s a strange kind,” announced Vika once she thought it fit to speak about him. “I can tell because you almost came right out and talked to him. A complete stranger!” she put a stress on the word talked and Maggie shrugged.

 

“I had to say something,” she replied putting her hood on. She replaced her weapons on her body. The sewing kit she stuffed in the pocket of her pants. She felt a little bad about ripping his shirt. Honestly, she did.

 

“I don’t know what you plan to do with him.” Vika was all business once again.

 

“I think I trust him.”

 

“You think, or you know?”

 

“I’m not sure,” Maggie sighed. “I’ll let you know once we get to Redd’s.”

 

“Fine,” Vika sighed dramatically. “I guess that means he has to come with us, doesn’t it? Perfect.” The two girls made their way back to see how the boys were doing. They needed to leave soon. Maggie wasn’t sure how many people would be out stalking her.

 

“Oh, and Vika,” Maggie started, as they were almost in ear shot of the camp, “There’s something I think that you’ll want to hear…”

 

*****

How mean could one little girl be?

 

Keith was helping Angus finish packing up camp. He had learned the names of their horses. Angus had Scott, Vika rode Dagger, – he was not surprised – and Maggie’s was Gregor.  Angus had been quiet the whole time. Just what he needed; someone else who pretended he wasn’t there.

 

“Wonder what’s taking them so long? We should be gone by now.” Angus was leaning against a tree, whittling a twig with his pocket knife. Keith was wondering the same. Maggie was probably convincing Vika to spare his life. He sat on a rock, thinking about the shy girl who had skillfully filled his shirt with arrows, and then with the same preciseness, had mended the holes she made. If you just glanced at his shirt, you would hardly see any sign that there had been holes there before, and if you looked really close you could just see a slight discolouration.

 

He knew he should be thinking of ways to escape. For a way to get his sword back at least. Instead, his thoughts were always dragged back to Maggie. There was something about the way her cousins both protected her, how she didn’t speak when they met on the road. They were obviously hiding some dirty little secret. He just had to figure out what it was.

 

He went over a mental list of what did know about her.

 

So far he had discovered that Maggie was not very good with strangers. She had aim to kill if she wanted to, and had the skills of the common house wife. She had sharp, light blue eyes that held secrets and stopped his heart when she looked at him. Long blond hair that fell to about the middle of her back, and was soft to the touch. The girl had to be a good head shorter than him, at least. She couldn’t be older than sixteen. Maggie’s smile, though appearing seldom, was genuinely kind and bright. When he saw it, he found himself grinning back. Those boyish clothes hid the actual size of her body. And she had a confidence problem. She seemed withdrawn, except with people she was very close to. Something about that characteristic made him want to help her. With what, he wasn’t sure. But he was going to see how long it would take him to find out.

 

But one thing was for sure, Laila was right. The little girl with the head of dark curls had been on his mind since he realized a girl like Maggie actually ran from boys and hid in trees. Maggie was very pretty. Perhaps she was from somewhere near Laila’s village. He was contemplating this when the two girls came back. Maggie had her quiver strapped to her hip and bow on her back. She put the hood on again.

 

Will she always hide? Keith wondered. He had a lot of detective work ahead of him.

 

“Alright,” said Vika taking control, “We’re taking you with us, you’re going to be riding with Angus on Scott. We’re riding alone until we stop to eat, then you get to either walk, or ride with me,” She pointed to herself and Maggie. “Keith, you will tell Maggie where your brother was supposed to meet up with you.” Vika grabbed Angus by the sleeve. “There’s something we need to straighten out before we go.” They walked through what was left of the early morning mist leaving Keith alone with this mysterious girl.

 

Keith turned back to face Maggie. Her beautiful face was covered and she didn’t make a sound. “Well,” Keith started, “I suppose I’m to meet him up in Koal.” At the mention of the Curtian capital, she froze. Probably not for the same reasons as he had when she was trying to help him get out of his tangled shirt. Her hands were freezing cold, that was his reason – or at least the one he had tried to convince himself of. She seemed to be thinking. He waited for a response but all he got was a slow nod. While Maggie was over adding his things to Gregor’s load, Keith could hear the loud voices of his other two captures discussing something.

 

“… We have to… after the last village … her protection, we promised…” That was Vika.

 

“Fine… only until the capital… her father safely, or we get rid of...” That voice was Angus. Keith was sure that he probably wouldn’t like to know what they meant by ‘we get rid of’. He tried to busy his mind by watching the creek trickle past his feet, the birds singing in the trees, the wind ruffling his hair – anything was better than thinking of the constant danger his life was in as he travelled with these children. Vika and Angus could not have been older than Daileas.

 

When they came back, Maggie had already untethered the horses and was perched on Gregor. Waiting patiently for the others to do the same.

 

Vika dug something out of her packs. Rope.

 

“Hands out front.” She ordered. Vika tied his wrists tightly and smiled as she tugged one last time. Maggie cleared her throat and her smile fell. The girl all but threw him onto Scott’s back. The horse shifted anxiously as he tried to right himself. Keith glared at her as she smoothly mounted Dagger. She returned it coldly.

 

Before getting on Scott’s back with Keith, Angus made sure that the fire was out and their camp looked like the rest of the woods around them. Keith noticed for the first time that the small space held almost no evidence of these people being there. He began to wonder again how safe he really was with them. Maybe he should make an escape plan. “Off we go!” Angus cried as he lead them back out to the road.

 

*****

 

Keith wasn’t used to sharing a horse. It took him a while to get used to not being in control. It might have been a little difficult to keep his balance just sitting behind Angus, but having his hands bound was no easy task. It was painful every time he moved his arms. The muscles in his shoulders and arms protested any movement, while the skin on his wrists was being rubbed raw by his binds.

 

For several leagues, the two girls fell behind a bit. Vika whispered to Maggie about something, the whole time she nodded in understanding. He tried not to worry about what they were talking about.

 

The trees on either side of the road drifted past, only to be replaced by even more trees. If he had to guess, Keith would have said they were still in the Curtian Forest. The only sounds that filled the day were those of the horses and the creatures that lived among the trees. Every once in a while, the wind came up and tussled his red hear. The sun was out the whole time. Eventually, he had to get Angus to roll up his sleeves, and remove his cloak.

 

They had covered at least twice as much ground as Keith had walking , but he still felt like they were moving too slow. The only thing that helped pass the time was the many stories his riding companion had to tell. Keith heard some really interesting tales. There were some about dragons, lost treasures, and great battles. Brave young men and wise old women. Heroes sent by the Warrior, the Maiden, even the Veil’s Guard.

 

But one in particular caught his attention.

 

“There were two ancient clans who were sworn enemies, the Tine’la and the McGregors. They fought against each other in a war large enough to split a peaceful country in two. No one really knows why they fought.” Angus spoke with great enthusiasm. His one hand helping tell the story, while the other held Scott’s reins.

 

Keith had heard this story too many times to count. He had read it in the Curtian Royal Library, heard it from every elder in his family. It was his ancestors’ legacy.  He wanted to hear it from this boy, who had probably never heard it the right way.

 

“This is a tale not even in the history books,” Keith was surprised to hear a more recent story. Apparently it had occurred not long after her was born. “After years of hiding, the most powerful man in the McGregor clan was found to be living in the southern lands of Curta. Once the Tine’la found out that where he was, they stormed the castle. But they soon discovered that their target wasn’t even there, they decided to destroy him in other way. He had an infant daughter who was still there. Upon finding her room they blocked the door so that no one could get to her as they set flame to the massive castle; but someone did. They saved her, and thought it safer to raise her as their own. And to this day, the Tine’la still search for this poor girl.” Angus finished his tale just as the two girls came back up to join them.

 

“Well, how old would this child be now?” Keith was interested, naturally.

 

“I’d say, about fifteen, sixteen,” Angus replied, but after Vika shot him a dangerous look, he quickly added, “but I can’t be certain. It’s just a story, campfire tale really.”

 

With a new interest, Keith gazed at Maggie. Could she be..? Impossible! He thought to himself. Yet nothing is impossible. Her hood covered her face completely. Whenever she had it on, she hardly spoke. It was like a trigger for her. She always was able to blend into the background without much effort. There was something strange going on with these cousins, and it just made being with them more of an adventure.

Chapter 11

Maggie sat on a high branch. Her back was resting against the rough surface of the tree’s bark. Her hair was down and drifted beside her as it caught a slight breeze. Her eyes were closed. The late afternoon sun warmed her face and exposed arms. The stone around her neck was cradled in her right hand. She sighed as she heard Keith and Vika bickering on the ground far below.

 

Maggie didn’t remember travel being so rough. The last time she had lived like this was when she went to Koal with her aunt, and even then, that had been years before her aunt died. They had kept a steady pace since the event with the Tine’la. They hadn’t gone near another village or town, not wanting to be found again. It was best to keep to the road during the day and hide in the forest at night. Despite the fact the roads were uneven and full of pits and divots the size of pots; and the ground under the trees was damp due to the steady rain. None of them had found a comfortable night’s sleep, and it was starting to show.

 

Vika, for all her attitude before, complained about every little thing and was quick to anger. Keith always managed to have a smart side comment for all the things Vika found wrong. As it turns out, he knew more about dry humour than Maggie had originally thought. Angus fumed quietly, keeping to himself, and didn’t join in the arguing. Maggie required the solitary escape of the trees, almost every time they stopped, as a refuge from the insanity.

 

Even the horses were short tempered.

 

Gregor was constantly trying to bite off any part of the Tine’la when he was too close. Daggers was forever trying to tromp on his feet. Keith cursed them every time. Scott was the only animal willing to tolerate the red head. The horse had tried to shift him out of the saddle a few times when he was just down right irritating, but that was all.

 

They had met very few people in the past two days of riding. Each time Maggie had waited for some kind of reaction from the stone. But nothing happened. It didn’t glow, didn’t torture the skin on her collar bone with extreme temperature. Once, when she saw a rather shady person with a concealed weapon, it cooled against her body – but nothing else. She guessed it was because the people they passed wouldn’t have a direct influence on her quest and thus didn’t set off the stone. Or something like that. It was hard to describe.

 

A branch snapping below yanked Maggie out of her thoughts and sent her hand to the hidden dagger in her boot. Moments later Angus stuck his head out from under a particularly leafy section of the tree. “Vika’s ready to spar now,” he sighed heavily. “The camp finally looks livable.” Maggie laughed and followed him back down to the ground.

 

“Warrior of Might!” Keith ambushed her as soon as one foot touched the forest floor. He dropped the wood he was carrying and marched towards her with long strides, backing Maggie against the tree. His face a mere hand’s width from hers. She couldn’t ignore his anger. “Where have you been?” He waved his hands in the air franticly. Maggie had decided not to bind him anymore after this morning. If he did escape, he wouldn’t get far. Secretly, she hoped he wouldn’t try. This Tine’la had to be of real importance if the stone kept pushing so much for her to trust him. She tried not to focus on the way his green eyes flared like burning emeralds when he was angry.

 

Maggie pointed upwards and shrugged. “In the trees,” she stated plainly. He arched an eyebrow and she repressed a smirk. Sooner or later, they were going to talk about Laila.

 

“While you were ‘in the trees’ swinging like a monkey,” Keith had one hand on his side and the other he thrust at the green canopy above. Maggie wondered what a monkey was but her thoughts evaporated as he leaned closer. “I’ve been down here picking up twigs!”

 

“Perfect,” Maggie gave him a wicked grin and he eased back a bit. With a little more distance between them, it felt easier to breathe. She leaned around him to addressed Angus and Vika, “We can start with staffs.”

 

“Wait, what?” Keith’s anger melted away. A strange looked passed over his face. It wasn’t fear, though. It was more of a worried or anxious nature. The other two nodded with mischievous grins and went to fetch their wooden rods.

 

“They’re not for you,” Maggie replied. She allowed herself a chuckle when she saw him relax a bit. “Tomorrow, we are going to meet our trainer. He taught us almost everything we know about combat – both hand-to-hand and weapons. It is easier to spar with loosened muscles and the staff exercises do just that. We thought it might be easier to show off our new skills if we were warmed up.” She winked at Vika, who passed Maggie her own staff.

 

“You can stay over there and watch,” Vika said, pointing to a rock that a tree had grown up around. “We’re going to be at this for a while. We cleared a spot away from the fire pit so we won’t get burnt once the fire is lit.” She smirked as she walked towards the space of the forest floor they had argued about clearing. Keith hadn’t seen the purpose behind the tedious task of picking up sticks to clear an area that was a good distance from the camp. Now he just glared at her receding back.

 

“Would you mind starting a fire when it gets dark?” Maggie asked. Her heart skipped a beat when his eyes softened as he looked at her. She focused on the long wooden rod in her hands.

 

“Of course.” The Tine’la replied with certain gentleness to his voice. Then his eyes widened and he took a big step back. He looked sheepish. “Sorry.” He mumbled.

 

“Thank you.” She gave him a small smile as she moved away from the trunk and turned to join the other two. Don’t let him get to you. Maggie mentally shook herself. She felt him watching her and restrained herself from looking back. Taking a deep breath, she kept walking. Hopefully Redd would know what to do with this son of a lord.

 

“Finally,” Angus said, jumping up from where he was sitting on the ground. “I thought we’d never start.” Vika shot him a dark look.

 

“You should be grateful that we even get to practice,” she bit off. To Maggie, the girl asked, “Are you alright? If he does that again, I swear, he will not live to see the Warrior’s sun!” Vika clenched her staff in anger.

 

“I appreciate the thought, Vi,” Maggie laughed as she sank into her stance. “But I think I can take care of myself.” When she heard Keith choking on his laughter behind her, she turned and sent him a smug grin. Just you wait, young master. You might be surprised. “Start with defence rolls, moving into attacks. No partners. Begin.” She called out the same words Redd had used every time they did the drill.

 

Moving as one, the three teens stepped forward. Together they dove to the ground, arms stretched out, holding the staffs in front of them. They arched their bodies at the same time as they hit the ground and rolled. Once again on their feet, but in a crouch, they pivoted to face Keith. His face was full of surprise. Standing, they brought their weapons up so that one end was pointed towards Maggie’s prisoner. The wooden rods a synchronized blur of movement as they twirled them, real attacks against imaginary enemies. She counted the moves in her head.

 

“Break!” Maggie ordered. Without missing a beat, what had moved as one warrior became three separate fighters. Their moves no longer similar. Maggie felt the rush of her blood in her body, the fresh air of late spring fill her lungs. She lost herself in the intricate movement of her hands and feet. Her stone bounced against her collarbone. Without thought, her body moved to block an attack from either Vika or Angus and then turned to deliver a blow of her own.

 

It felt too soon for the sun to hide behind the horizon. Maggie glistened with sweat. A chill ran over her skin as a breeze drifted through the trees. Her tangled hair was partially still in the braid she had done earlier. As her blood cooled, she got goose bumps without the sun to warm her skin. She went to wash her face in the creek Vika had found when they first arrived.

 

The refreshing water lapped against her ankles as she stood with her feet in the water. Crouching, she splashed her forearms. She sighed in relief, sitting on a somewhat dry rock near the bank. She leaned down and cupped her hands to splash her face.

 

“Where did you learn to do that?” Maggie started and almost toppled into the water. Regaining her balance, she turned and glared at Keith, who had managed to speak up on her. She scolded herself for not paying attention.

 

“My aunt was gracious enough to teach me how to wash my face without the use of cloth.” Maggie replied dryly.

 

“That’s not what I meant,” Keith sighed. “Did Redd really teach you all those… whatever they were?” He sat on the bank next to her discarded boots and watched her openly, like he was trying to see straight through her soul. His intense look made Maggie uneasy.

 

“Not all of them, but yes, Redd taught us most of our tactics.” She reached above her head and stretched, grunting from the strain it put on her muscles. “You’re going to meet him tomorrow. You might like him.”

 

Keith snorted. “Only if he doesn’t try to kill me.” He shifted into a more relaxed position. His eyes gleamed under his shaggy bangs. Maggie tried to keep her mind on where she was placing her feet as she waded to dry ground.

 

“Can you cook?” She asked once she was standing next to him. She was tempted to sit down, but refrained from doing so, afraid she would be too tired to get back up. Keith just stared up at her in disbelief. Of course he can’t, she thought, he’s probably never had to provide for himself before.

 

“I can try,” he looked embarrassed. “But I never was one for kitchen work.”

 

Maggie took a deep breath. It wasn’t his fault he was born privileged. “Never mind, I’ll make dinner,” she hazarded a thought. “Would you… like to spar? With Angus I mean.”

 

Vika would never let her hear the end of this.

 

*****

 

Keith stared blankly at her. He knew he should say something in response, but words escaped him. Maggie was probably taking a great risk in asking him to participate. His silence was obviously bothering her because she began to fidget. He gently shook himself and found his voice. But not before she began to speak.

 

“If you don’t want—”

 

“Sure.” Keith cut in. They had just gotten a level deeper in trust – shallow though it may be – and the last thing he wanted to do was ruin it. Since charming her wasn’t going to work, and he didn’t know enough minor magic to concoct a truth serum, he needed another way of finding out what these children were hiding. Gaining trust might take longer and be a lot more work, but it also meant better results.

 

When he saw Maggie relax, Keith felt a great deal calmer as well. He might be their prisoner, but the only sign of real imprisonment was when his hands had been tied. At first he thought that he would have gotten a hard time from Vika, what with her temper and constant death threats. Now, though, Keith wasn’t so sure. This girl standing in front of him seemed to be almost closed off from the world. And that could be dangerous too.

 

“Have you ever sparred before?” Her question made him smile.

 

“I do have a brother.” Keith laughed.

 

“Right,” Maggie groaned and ran her hand down the side of her face. “Well, um, sparring with Angus is, ah,” she waved a hand slightly, searching for the right words. “Different.”

 

“I’m sure I won’t hurt him.” He scoffed. Angus was just a boy, he would be more apt to get injured that Keith and Keith could monitor the weight of his blows. Her words intrigued him. How was the boy ‘different’?

 

“It’s not him I’m worried about,” Maggie muttered. She turned, picked up her boots and walked back to the camp, fixing her tangled hair. Before Keith could really pick up on the fact that he might have just been insulted, she called over her shoulder. “Hurry up, if you’re coming!”

 

He jumped to his feet and followed behind her. He noted her agility. While he had to concentrate on his footing, she seemed to glide over rocks and fallen trees. Her hands busy the entire time, braiding her unruly hair. His balance was off with every step. The girl only re-adjusted her feet once or twice. It was obvious she thrived in the mighty forest. Again he considered the possibility of her being a wood nymph.

 

“Angus.” Maggie called once they were back on the empty ground.

 

“Yeah?” The boy was sitting on some roots with his back against the tree. One eye was open as he watched the girl warily.

 

“You’ve got a sparring partner.” The genuine smile that lit up Maggie’s face made Keith’s heart miss a few beats. Her grin reflected back on everyone’s face, except Vika’s. She must have been holding her mirror upside-down, because the shape her mouth was making looked nothing like a happy smile.

 

“You’ve got to be kidding!” Vika turned away from grooming the horses. With crossed arms, shifted weight, and a cold glare she could have intimidated half of the King’s Elite Guard. Maggie didn’t even flinch. “I thought you wanted him alive. Sparring with Angus might affect that. I don’t want to bury his sorry arse! The last thing we need is to drag a mangled body around, as if this living one is any better!”

 

“Vika.” Maggie said patently, her face impassive.

 

“When their done, even Redd won’t be able to fix him! What’s going to happen if he’s too weak to ride after? Hm? I won’t take him because you made a stupid mistake! Scott has had to support that extra weight!” Vika shot an accusing finger at Keith. He had a feeling that none of the things she was saying were extremely dry compliments. “And he’s sure as Veils not going to ride with you!”

 

“Vika! Calm down a bit.” Maggie’s voice held a hint of annoyance, but still nothing showed on her face.

 

“I am calm!” She shrieked. Keith resisted a strong desire to hide. Looking between the two girls, he thought it best to say that both were of equal danger. They just scared him in different ways.

 

Maggie took a ragged breath. He saw her clench and unclenched her hands several times before she spoke again. “Vika,” she straightened her spine. She looked tired and irritated. “Angus needs practice. This is just so I can gauge Keith’s skill. If he stays with us until Koal, I need to see how well he can protect himself.”

 

“Come on, Vika. You and Maggie get to spar all the time.” Angus complained as he pushed away from the tree he once leaned against.

 

“Shut up!” Vika spat. Her face was on the verge of being compared to a red tomato. She fingered the thin daggers on her person. Keith felt himself gulp. She shot him a murderous look though slotted eyes. “Fine! But if he gets hurt, I don’t want to hear about it. I’m going to get more wood.” And without another word, she turned on her heel and disappeared into the foliage of the Curtian Forest. Keith released the breath he had been holding.

 

Maggie sighed and turned to face him. “If you have any spare clothes in your packs, tell me and I can get them. You will want a clean pair once you’re finished, trust me.” Keith was shocked that this girl had just come right out and said that she would go rooting through his things. No thank you, he thought. After all, a man needs some degree of privacy.

 

“I think I can manage without, thank you.” He replied a clipped tone. Maggie merely shrugged her shoulders and gave him a small smile.

 

“Are we going to stand here and talk till the stars come out, or are we going to spar?” Angus cried impatiently. Keith tried not to laugh out right when he saw the boy standing there bare chested. “I want some leverage before we get to Redd’s.”

 

“Don’t worry, Angus,” Maggie laughed behind Keith. “You will have plenty opportunities for leverage. I see you made the circle.” Angus nodded. “Good. Keith, you and Angus can decide upon the rules yourselves. Don’t hurt him too badly, please.” She turned and walked back to the tents.

 

“I won’t.” Angus and Keith said at the same time. They looked at each other as Maggie chuckled, disappearing behind the trees. Keith began to wonder if agreeing to spar was a good idea at all.

 

“Do we really need a boundary line?” Angus asked pointing to the circle of rocks he had laid out. “I find it much more fun on uneven ground.” Keith shrugged. He didn’t know the rules of this game and thought it best to let a more experienced person decide. Though, he found it hard to think of the twelve winter old boy as experienced.

 

“So,” Keith’s voice was muffled as he took off his shirt to make it a little more even. He didn’t want to give Angus any hand holds. “How does this work?”

 

“It’s easy. It’s just like fighting, only without weapons and we aren’t trying to kill each other. Because you haven’t done this before, you attack first.” Angus sank into a position Keith had never seen before. The boy’s hands were up like a boxer. He had one leg in front of him, bent at the knee, toes facing forward. His other leg set the same, only behind him. The space between them was the width of his boyish shoulders. He shifted a few times as he balanced his weight out.

 

Keith suddenly felt uncomfortable. The youngest person he had ever fought was Daileas and they were more evenly matched. Seeing Angus in his odd stance, waiting confidently for him to attack, Keith wasn’t sure he could.

 

Angus sighed and he dropped his shoulders a bit. “You won’t hurt me,” he said. Then his face turned mischievous. “Then again, I doubt you will even get close enough to do any damage.” He was baiting him. Keith knew it. The boy relaxed and stood up straight. His hands fell to his sides and he turned his back to Keith, mocking. Keith rolled his eyes at the boy’s feeble attempt of egging him on. Taking a deep breath, Keith ran at Angus’s back.

 

Jumping, Keith took Angus to the ground and the two went tumbling. Sticks and dirt bit into the exposed skin on Keith’s back, as they both tried to gain the advantage. They had summersaulted a few times, a mess of unmet punches and misplaced kicks, when Keith felt a set of feet push firmly on his torso. With a grunt of triumph from the boy, Keith was flying through the air. His breath rushed from his lungs as his back hit the forest floor.

 

Keith was thankful for Vika’s persistence in picking up almost all of the small branches as he sat up, gasping for air. He hadn’t expected to be tossed like an empty cloth sack by the boy. As he waited for his eyes to regain focus, Angus’s laughter echoed in his ears. Anger rose in him and he sprang to his feet. Everything swayed, but Keith could still identify Angus doubled over. A cry of rage escaped him as he tore across the ground, closing the distance between them. Angus shot up right, face contorted, and ran. If he hadn’t been so mad, Keith might have laughed at the terrified look.

 

Keith charged through the undergrowth of the Curtian Forest, blind anger driving him. Vika would have his hide as a cloak, Maggie’s disappointment would crush him, and Daileas might never forgive him; but pride won over reason. He was going to murder the boy. If he ever caught up to him. His temper rose every time a branch slapped at him or his feet stumbled over uneven terrain as the boy gained ground.

 

After recovering from a near fall, Keith realized that he could no longer see Angus. He stopped dead in his tracks and recalled with a chill the last time he had chased one of them through the trees. Wood nymphs. Had to be. Keith was stone still as he listened to the wood that surrounded him. Moments went by in complete silence. Only the light sound of nearby water dared break it.

 

Wood snapping above him was the only warning he got before Angus fell from high branches and plowed him into the dirt. Keith spat out grit and curses. Two rough hands pulled him to his feet. Keith whirled on Angus. “Um, sorry. Sometimes I get caught up in—” Angus’s awkward apology was cut short as Keith’s fist connected with his jaw. The boy stumbled backwards; hand on his bruising face, eyes alight with rage. He released a raging cry of his own and lunged at Keith.

 

Honestly, Keith had never in his life fought such strength. He had been so surprised at Angus’s rapid recovery that he didn’t move when the boy charged him. He lifted Keith over his head like a rag doll and threw him in to a tree. The air rushed from his chest once again and Angus yanked him upright and propped him against the tree. The boy stared up at him under dirty blond bangs. His blue eyes dared Keith to try hitting him again. Keith took the dare and spat in his face. Deep down he knew he was being a fool, the logical part of his mind screamed it, but his pride wasn’t about to let him live it down.

 

Angus ground his teeth and ripped Keith from the bark. Keith doubled over as Angus punched him in the stomach. He tripped over his feet and the boy planted a firm kick on his back. Keith wouldn’t be surprised if Angus’s foot was permanently imprinted on his skin. Keith swung a few feeble punches that Angus dodged easily. He felt the ground under him soften as he neared to edge of the creek. “Wait!” he cried, but Angus kept advancing. He was three strides from Keith when he jumped. Extending his foot, the boy spun in mid-air and struck Keith in the center of his chest with his heel.

 

Time slowed as his feet left the damp ground. Angus’s hit had him once again soaring through the fading daylight. A strangled scream escaped his lips before he plunged into the freezing water.

 

With no sunlight to illuminate the creek bed, Keith lost most of his bearings. Darkness began to close in. The water was shallow enough for him to stand and it might have come to his waist; but he ached all over and his body wouldn’t listen. He thrashed around, trying desperately to break the surface. His lungs screamed for air. He began to go numb from the temperature of the water.

 

He was faintly aware of someone calling his name and the funny muffled sound of something crashing through the water while his ears were under it. A pair of arms encircled him and pulled him through the cold darkness. When his head broke the surface, he gasped. Fresh, beautiful air burned his throat and forced him to cough up the water it was replacing.

 

Keith was dragged to the bank and onto dry ground. His rescuer kneeled beside him. Try as he might, Keith couldn’t get his eyes to focus on them. They grew heavier and soon consciousness was no more.

 

*****

 

Maggie stared down at the Tine’la’s unconscious form. She was so tempted to slap him awake she had to sit on her hands. Angus hovered just outside of her field of vision. When she looked up at him, he turned sheepish and averted his eyes. “Alright, muscles,” Maggie sighed standing up and brushing off her knees. She pointed to Keith. “Take him back to camp, please. Get the fire nice and hot. I need to find some flower dew.” The boy nodded meekly, slung Keith over his shoulders and made his way through the trees.

 

Maggie scanned the ground around her, her eyes searching. “If I were a magical flower, where would I hide?” she said aloud to herself. No sooner had the words left her mouth, the stone around her neck started to grow warm and softly glow. She started to walk to the right. The stone grew colder and dimmed as she took a few steps. She turned and walked in the opposite direction. The stone warmed up again and gave off a noticeable light. Maggie kept walking, the power from the stone stronger with each step.

 

The pendant was soon a brilliant light in comparison to the quickly fading day. Maggie treaded with careful steps. If she happened to crush a blossom, its natural minor magic would be destroyed as well. It didn’t take long to spot a patch of the hard to find blue-purple flowers nestled among the giant roots of a colossal tree. After sending up a thankful prayer to the Maiden, Maggie collected an armful of blooms, making sure to leave a fair number behind to allow the patch to continue. With her magical flowers tucked gently in a pouch she made by lifting the hem of her cotton shirt, Maggie marched back to the others.

 

When she reached to fire lit tents, she headed straight for her packs. Gently placing the herbs in a large bowl, Maggie took out a dry pair of pants and went back out into the woods to change. She returned a little warmer and hung her wet things over a makeshift clothes line by the fire. Then she was over in her packs again.

 

 Once retrieving the pot and brace, she walked over to the fire filled the pot with water and placed it on the hot flames. Keith was wrapped up in several blankets, shivering. Maggie continued with her work, picking the petals off carefully and letting them flutter into the boiling water. The Tine’la rolled over, but she didn’t lift her eyes. He moaned loudly. She looked up and gave him a flat stare. Vika and Angus sat on logs around the fire, but neither moved. Keith shifted noisily and made pained sounds. Maggie sighed and walked over to him.

 

“Do you drink tea?” she asked impatiently. He must not have been expecting that because he made a face. “A simple yes or no will do, thank you.” Keith shook his head, shame faced. “Fine. What about cider?” When he nodded meekly, she returned it and continued making the tonic. He made no other sound or movement as she worked. Maggie made many trips back and forth between her things and the boiling pot. No one spoke. The crackling flames made the only sound. Occasionally, Angus would add some wood to keep them warm as the first stars twinkled in the dark sky. The Warrior’s Constellation – an inspirational group of stars put there by the Maiden during the Kingdom’s Divide – could be seen by the time Maggie finished. It was harder and longer to infuse the flowers’ magic in to cider than it was tea, but she still finished it.

 

“Drink it.” Maggie ordered Keith as he shifted into a sitting position. She shoved the mug of sweet smelling liquid into his shaking hands.

 

“This doesn’t look like cider,” Keith complained as he stared down at the greenish brew. “What are—?”

 

“She said ‘drink’,” Vika whispered from across the fire. “Don’t make me pour it down your throat.” Keith quickly gulped down the mug and made a sour face as he handed it back to Maggie.

 

“It should kick in soon,” Maggie nodded as she clean up the mess she made. “Just… Just try to stay still while, please.” She didn’t think it was worth elaborating when she saw the face the Tine’la gave her. Instead she completely ignored him and replaced her things in the saddle bags. That was when Maggie noticed a particular emblem embroidered on one of his bags. A double-edged sword in gold thread. The moment she laid eyes on it the stone seared her skin.

 

Maggie tried to swallow the gasp that came to her throat as her already tender skin was burned. She reached frantically for the necklace. The normally black surface glowed a dull blue, which only brightened as she moved it closer to the symbol. Maggie resisted the urge to smack her had against the nearest tree. She had been so blind! This man was a king’s spy, or at least an Elite’s spy. The sword was of the King’ No wonder he hadn’t run, he was there to gather information and report them.

 

Some of the pieces were starting to fit together. They had met him right after the first attack. He had chased her into the forest. The stone hadn’t been encouraging her to trust him, it was warning her. Maggie cast a quick glance over her shoulder and saw Keith starting to fidget. The serum was starting to take effect. Maggie groaned. Collecting her thoughts, she stood up, brushed off her pant legs, and walked back over to the fire.

 

“If you’re feeling better, you should probably change your clothes. There’s a thick patch of bushes over there.” Maggie told Keith, pointing to the underbrush. She poured herself a small mug of tea and sat down on a log to warm up.

 

“I don’t think that will be necessary, thank you.” Keith replied as soon as she was settled. Maggie looked across the flames at him. Water still dripped from his, his lips were purplish from the chill he would feel once the flower dew wore off. He was going to be a wreck tomorrow. Angus and Vika both cocked their eyebrow at him. Maggie only shrugged. If he wanted to get sick, let him. It shouldn’t take them that long to get to the capital and Redd could always just heal him – as long as he didn’t get too sick.

 

The fire was dying by the time the other had gone to bed. It was only Maggie and Keith awake. She was on first watch and he was still jittery from the spiked cider. Not once did she let herself look at him. Her eyes were glued to the sky, trying to find constellations. The Tine’la, on the other hand, openly stared at her. Green emeralds following her every move. Eventually, she broke down and talked to him.

 

“What are you looking at?”

 

“You. I thought it was pretty obvious.” He seemed to relax a bit with something besides the chirping frogs to fill the night air. Even for a noble, he was cocky.

 

“Why?” She looked back at him warily. He hadn’t been expecting a response because his face was plainly shocked. She decided to risk another question. “Are you a noble?” His face paled. Nailed it, she thought triumphantly. She didn’t want to give away too much about herself, but still wanted to pry. “Your manners gave you away,” She paused. “And maybe your clothes, your weapons, and your uselessness for the basics of survival.”

 

“Perhaps I am a noble, so what?” Keith tried to sound passive, but a hint of fear danced on his deep voice. Maggie smirked in to the snapping flames.

 

“Do you know a stable hand by the name of Seaver?” Maggie’s repressed laughter escaped in her words. His eyes snapped to hers, questioning. “I thought you might,” There was no way she would say how she knew. “He came through my village the other night. He was exhausted so I gave him some tea with naturally magiced flower dew. That’s what I gave you. Seaver’s always been a good friend. I’m sure you take good care of you,” She met his eyes that glowed in the firelight; her heart sped up a little. “He is quite fond of you, you know.”

 

They were quiet for a long while after. Maggie continued her search for pictures in the stars. Keith sat thoughtfully gazing into the fire. He didn’t blink when it was Angus’s watch, and he took Maggie’s spot by the fire. Lying down on her cold bedding, she wondered if she did the right thing in telling him what she knew.

Chapter 12

Keith knew that something was wrong with him from the moment he had opened his eyes that morning. His head was pounding as his thoughts began to swim. Every so often he would have shivers run up and down his spine. He was sore and aching. He had sensations rotating between being cold and tried to warm and restless. With eyes darting everywhere, Keith found it hard to concentrate on one thing. To make matters worse – because he didn’t want to wound his pride – he didn’t say a word about it to anyone. He had felt so good the night before.

 

Angus, on the other hand, had been giddy since dawn. And for Angus that was very rare. As they neared the first town Keith had seen since he had met this strange trio of cousins, Maggie let Angus go on ahead to announce their arrival.  Seconds after Keith stumbled off Scott, all that was left of Angus was a cloud of dust. Silently, Keith was wondering why Angus was so excited about seeing their trainer. Walking to catch up, he turned to face Maggie. She was riding between Vika and himself, and he made a face. She seemed to read his mind before he even moved – this part of her always amazed him.

 

“Redd is Angus’s older brother. They haven’t seen each other in just over a year,” Maggie explained with another one of her genuine smiles. “He’ll hopefully join us.” Keith glared at the uneven dirt road. He shouldn’t be upset; this man could help him figure out these three a little more. Still, his mood soured.

 

Approaching the village’s center, the girls dismounted and walked their horses towards an odd assortment of vender stalls. Everywhere people milled around. Keith lost count of how many times he was jostled or shoved. Maggie seemed to shrink beneath her cloak; Vika only took on a more dominant stance. The two were almost complete opposites. Just like the bright colours of the awnings and the dusty venders beneath them.

 

Amid the din of bargainers’ cries, the unorganized motion and a pounding head, Keith found himself searching for his brother. He had to stop himself several times. Daileas wouldn’t be caught dead in a lowly village market. There was no point in even thinking he’d find the boy. Suddenly, he felt something brush against his side. When he turned, Keith saw a rather dirty boy in tattered clothes digging into the coin purse he had slung over his belt. Shoulder length greasy hair flew back as the slim face with hollowed cheeks looked up at him.

 

“Hey!” Keith wrenched the bony hand out of the pouch. “What do you think you’re doing?” People had stopped to stare as he lifted the child off the ground by the scruff of the shirt. The boy let out a small whimper after kicking frantically without getting anywhere. Keith closed his eyes for a moment to ward off the unexpected dizziness that overcame him.

 

“Keith,” Maggie’s quiet voice was right next to his shoulder. He turned his head and saw her light blue diamond eyes looking at him pleadingly from under her hood. “Put her down. Gently.” Keith stared at Maggie in astonishment. Her? He looked at the girl, whose eyes were cast to the ground. It was then he noticed that the pickpocket was wearing an ankle length skirt. Trying hard to hide the shock on his face, Keith slowly lowered her until her feet were firmly planted on the dirt. As soon as he let go of her shirt, she tore through the square and disappeared into a side ally way. “You need to practice paying attention to your surroundings,” Maggie hooked her arm in his and steered them through the crowd. Vika followed closely behind giving anyone who looked their way a nasty glare. “Especially, if you’re trying to pass as a commoner. That was a typical noble reaction. I know you probably aren’t used to being anywhere this crowed without a guard, or something, but you need to learn.”

 

The three of them stopped at a small table at the opposite end of the market and admired the cheap trinkets as they waited for Angus. It wasn’t long before he found them.

 

“I looked all over,” Angus reported with disappointment. “I couldn’t find him.” Just then a shadow landed on him. Angus turned to face a young man and was the same height as the stranger’s shoulder. The two of them burst into laughter and began a series of complicated arm clasps, high-fives, and back slaps.

 

“Well, it sure has been awhile,” a warm, deep voice came from the tall young man. Laughing pale blue eyes with a hint of green hid under rather shaggy reddish hair that reached to darker eyebrows. This man was of a very able body, and he seemed almost twice as big as Keith. “I hear that you are all of to Koal.” He said starting to go around to all the travellers and shaking their hands.

 

“Redd, you remember Vika,” Angus said the good natured man, “She’s Aunt Evanna’s oldest.”

 

“’Course I do. I trained her myself, didn’t I?” Redd cried in a hearty voice. Keith began to wonder what he would be like if Vika was his student.

 

“Ah, young blacksmith!” said the tall young man in disbelief.

 

“Hello, Redd. It’s been a few moon phases.” She grinned at him from under her hood. It almost sickened Keith to think that she would ever know such a person. Wait. Why did he call her ‘young blacksmith’? Apparently he knew absolutely nothing about this girl in the dark hood. This had to be the first time Keith had actually seen Maggie talk of her own free will. He was a little jealous it wasn’t him.

 

“I hardly recognized you. My you’ve grown – and ever more beautiful. I hope that you’ve been practicing your archery skills. You were the best archer I have taught so far…” He blundered on like this for some time. Keith was irritated at how much attention this Redd fellow was giving Maggie, and even more so at her reaction. She was answering his every question without hesitation, and her hood was back far enough that you could see her face – she was actually smiling! A hot throbbing pain shot through his skull and he touched his head gently. Either his fingers were really cold or he had a temperature.

 

Keith cleared his throat. It was then that Redd noticed him standing right next to him. “Beg your pardon, lad,” said Redd as he turned to face Keith and extending his hand. “I don’t believe I know you. I didn’t catch your name, boy.”

 

Cringing on the inside but smiling and politely shaking hands on the outside, Keith replied, “I’m Keith. Nice to meet you.” Total lie. Keith just didn’t like that way this ‘trainer’ did, well, anything. Keith seemed to hold a grudge against him, but had no idea why, unless… He stopped his train of thought. It couldn’t possibly be because of one girl. Coming back to the present, he realized that Redd was giving him the strangest of looks. Giving Keith’s hand one last shake, he let it go and turned back around to the two girls as they were readjusting their packs.

 

“Some friend you got here,” he gave Maggie a big teasing grin. “Come on, we should go someplace quieter to talk particulars. My house isn’t that far out of town.” Angus and Vika followed Redd through the crowd with the horses trailing behind. The world began to sway slightly as he struggled to keep up with the others. Before he knew it, they were out of the hustle and bustle of the crammed market and walking across a much smaller courtyard. It must have been on the edge of the village because the harsh trees of the Curtian Forest lined two of the four sides. Excepting his captors, the dirt area was empty. The only evidence of its use was a stone walled well in a corner where the tree line and mud brick buildings met.

 

“Hey! Will you be standing there dreaming all day? Or are you going pay more attention before I get the urge to throw something!” Vika was looking at him with angered eyes while she yelled at him. Maggie was staring too. Everyone was. Keith didn’t realize she had been yelling at him until now. He felt so stupid. He began to shake his head trying to get rid of the pain that grew worse when Vika raised her voice. Vika let an amused smile spread across her lips. “Looks like he’s finally with us again,” hands on her hips as she said, “Welcome back.” With that, the others filed out into the mighty forest. None of them bothering to look back. Keith tried to follow, but tripped over his own feet as his vision blurred and spun. He hung his pounding head and covered his face in clammy hands. Letting out a sigh, he began to slump against the tree behind him; without knowing it was there in the first place. He slid to the ground under the tree. Running his fingers through his hair, Keith tried to relieve the pressure in his head by pressing down on his scalp with his fingertips. It helped a bit.

 

“Are you alright?” The sudden quiet voice made him jump. He looked up to find Maggie standing just a few strides in front of him. He had no idea how long she had stood there, he thought she went back with the others. He let out another sigh. “Keith?” She sounded concerned under the shyness of her voice. He looked up again. Her deep blue eyes were sad – why did he know what colour her eyes were?

 

Then he looked at her for the first time. Not that he couldn’t see her before, but this was the first time he actually saw her as just another person. Not his captor, not his fictional wood nymph, she was just a human being concerned for another. Her blonde hair was straight again, and with her hood off it fell about half way down her back. Her face was a little pale, but with some colour in her cheeks. Well, that was what he could see peeking out from under the dust on her face. If he looked beyond the dirt smudges, he was sure he would find some freckles. There was a glimmer behind her eyes that seemed to call to him. He thought that he could see something she was trying hide, but it wasn’t clear.

 

“Keith, do you feel well?” Maggie slowly stepped closer, almost like she was afraid she might scare him away. “You look flushed.” 

 

Taking a deep breath, he stood up and brushed himself off. “I just have a slight headache. Nothing that a bit of rest won’t fix.” He wobbled a bit. Maggie reached up and placed her cold fingers on his forehead. Now he believed what Angus had said about her being motherly. “I’m fine woman!” he said swatting her hand away. He hoped that it didn’t come out angry.

 

“No, you’re not,” she insisted, replacing her hand to his head. “You’ve got a fever. How long did you sleep last night? Maybe I shouldn’t have given you that much dew at once. You didn’t change your clothes, did you?” Her concern was shifting to slight irritation. Before he had time to answer her questions, Maggie began to drag him towards a corner. They were headed for a well. He started to panic. What did she plan to do when they got to the well? Throw him in? Hit him unconscious with the bucket so they wouldn’t have to drag him all the way to Koal? He realized that his nerves were getting the best of him – not that nerves were his problem. He tried to focus on something else. He started to hum a tune in his head, the one that he had heard the same night he had met Maggie on the road. The melody calmed him down enough that he could think straight by they reached the well.

 

“Sit.” She ordered him like Vika, except without the attitude. As he sat on the edge of the well, she began to pull the bucket up. He would have helped, but by the time he thought of it, the bucket, filled with cool water, was on the ledge next to him. For a girl that seemed so weak and fragile, she had muscle. She untied a cloth that was tied around her thin arm – she was ready for almost everything. Dipping part of it in the water, she started to tie it around his forehead. He hadn’t realized how hot his skin was until the cold dampness touched it. With quick fingers, Maggie tied it with the knot at the left side of his head. She is such a mother hen, he thought to himself. “There,” she said stepping back to access her work, “Feel a bit better now?” Keith smiled. He felt so much better. As she placed her hand back on his forehead to check the heat, he felt more than better.

 

*****

 

Maggie always knew that men in general were oblivious to how sick they really were. But she thought that Keith was just a little too clueless. His skin was blotchy, as if it was trying to decide whether it should be pale or beat red. He seemed cool and collected most of the time, yet here he was acting like a mad man. In his defense she had only travelled with him for only four or five days – and she barely ever had the courage to speak to his face – so she could hardly make a good comparison. The look that he had when they met Redd earlier made her shiver; it looked like hatred. Did his fever cause him to act strange? He really had no reason to hate her trainer.

 

When she had stood and watched Keith sink to the ground leaning on that tree, he looked like he was confused. She had tried to figure out why he had acted strange. He seemed too concentrated to notice her standing right in front of him. Not knowing what to do, she decided she had to snap him out of it. The way he looked at her when she first talked was expected, but after she brought him back from the next little daze he fallen into, he looked at her the same way he had when they had met in the forest. It made her feel self-conscious.

 

Now here they were, at the edge of a well in the middle of a village, and he looked like he was a lost dog. His eyes looked longingly at her, and she felt uncomfortable. Trying to focus on something else, Maggie started to wonder why he would hate Redd as she fiddled with the thin rope attached to the bucket. He was nice enough, and he had trained her for the longest time he had ever trained another. One of the unique things that made him stand out from all other trainers that her uncle could have chosen was the fact that they were cousins and he was only five summers older than her.

 

She sat down next to Keith on the well, and slowly lowered to bucket back down. It was because of Redd that she was able to travel alone with Vika and Angus to find her family, whether he knew it or not. She was very lucky. Even if she only had the skills Aunt Heather had taught her, she might have made it to Koal, but not Tìrbogha.

 

“Well,” she said standing again, “We probably should –.” With such suddenness, Keith reached out and grabbed her arm. The Tine’la had no time to explain his actions before instinct kicked in. Maggie didn’t realize she had grabbed his arm and flipped him over the wall of the well until after it happened. Now he was dangling from a stone that jutted out of the inside of the wall. Great, she thought. How am I supposed to get him out?

 

“Hold on!” Maggie cried, looking around. There was no one in sight, no rope to be seen, and Redd’s house was on the outskirts of the village. There wouldn’t be enough time to run and get him. The rope on the bucket was thin and fraying already, the Tine’la’s weight would break it for sure. She would have to pull him out herself.

 

“I don’t think that I have a choice.” Keith called from the well.

 

“I could do without your humour at the moment.” Maggie took off her cloak and reached her hand down as far as she could. Keith reached up. If they both stretched, Maggie could reach his elbow. Grabbing onto his arm with both hands, and bracing her feet on the rocks, she pulled.

 

“Ow! Ow! What are you trying to do, rip my arm off?” Keith’s voice echoed off the stone sides of the well, as Maggie pulled harder. His comments were not needed. Puffing, she decided to rest a little, hoping to try again or come up with a better way of getting him out after she caught her breath. As she sat and thought about the option of leaving him after all – if he was a spy, he wasn’t going to tell anyone about them if he was at the bottom of a well – she heard a faint crack. It came from the well. Then there was an even fainter splash.

 

Oh no! He fell in! She thought as she turned to look into the well with her heart in her throat. Nope. He was still there, but the stone that he was hanging from was half its original size. Maggie knew she couldn’t just leave him hanging there, her heart wouldn’t let her. She reached into her shirt and tucked the leather strip that held her stone into the tighter folder of her undershirt. Thank the Maiden’s Moon she was wearing pants, because the next thing she was about to do would be very awkward in a dress.

 

Standing on the wall, Maggie bounced on the balls of her feet, checking to see if it would hold their weight. Hearing another crack, she sat down again with her back to the well. She took a long slow breath. Carefully, she lowered herself over the edge while her bent knees were clinging to the top of the little wall.  She had done this kind of thing before – kind of. When Redd was training her, he had made her hang up side-down on a tree branch, and once she was strong enough, he made her reach down and pick things up off the ground. The heaviest thing she had lifted was a medium bag of potatoes right before he left. Now she hoped that her slight adrenaline rush she got after that first crack would help her lift Keith out.

 

“What in Veils are you doing?” Keith yelled at her as she lowered herself down.

 

“What does it look like I’m doing?” She said when she was finally in place. “Can you reach my hands?” When he tried, he could reach just above her elbows. “Good. Now I’m going to start pulling you up.” With both hands, she held onto his reaching arm, and began to pull – despite his protest of her being not strong enough. “Alright, when you get so you can bring your feet up to that stone you were just dangling from, don’t hesitate to help push yourself up. Oh, and watch your head on that bar across the top of this thing.”

 

Maggie didn’t have to wait long. Just as a dull empty pain spread in her core, the Tine'la weight eased up, and she knew his feet had found the stone. She had enough time for one breath before Keith used his footing to propel them both out of the well. With one swift motion – using Keith’s momentum – Maggie pulled them both out. Gasping, she looked up to see Keith sprawled out by her feet. Hysteria escaped from her in laughter. Sitting up, his mouth was wide open, and he rubbed his head. He must have hit it off the bar across the top of the well – it was used to keep the rope straight. That thought, and his open confusion, made her laugh all the more. She stood up and put her cloak on and her hood up, still laughing.

 

“What in the world?” Keith sounded stunned as Maggie helped him to his feet. “How did–who showed–you–you just…” He was obviously struggling with her little upside-down stunt. Maggie stood and brushed the dust from her clothes. She picked up her cloak and shook it out before placing it over her shoulders again. Turning her back to the red head, she released her necklace from the folds. Maggie did so quickly, afraid that it might burn her because she touched the Tine’la. Instead, she felt a warm pulsing heat, like her own heartbeat. Finally, he had gathered enough wits to form a proper question. “Where, in the foggy Veils, did you learn that? I mean - you know - the part where you were hanging upside-down.”

 

Maggie started walking out of the small courtyard. Keith stumbled a few times as he tried to match her quick pace.  “Well, as I told you before, Redd trained the three of us,” she explained, “A few years ago, before Redd left – and before my aunt passed – he came up with this new exercise. He told me to hang upside-down on a branch. Eventually, he had me lifting things. Redd said that if I kept it up I might get a few planks of a washboard.” Keith stifled a laugh. Then it turned into a cough and soon he was doubled over. Maggie stopped walking and scolded herself. Keith had a fever, and probably a concussion after hitting his head off the bar. She needed to set a much easier pace.

 

But she also needed to get him to Redd. The faster Keith was out of this fever, the faster they'd be able to move north towards the bog. At the thought of the bog, her stone suddenly went cold against her skin. The shock made her gasp. When she averted her attention back to the Tine'la, he had stopped coughing and was now looking at her with a very puzzled expression.

 

"What?" Maggie tried to shrug off his gaze and stalked out of the little square space. She kept her pace quick but comfortable for her sick prisoner. Every so often, she would glance over her shoulder and find him tripping over roots that stuck out of the newly green ground. The birds chirped and sang their songs of mid-spring in the branches above their heads, keeping them company as Maggie lead the trek through the underbrush.

 

It wasn't long before the smell of wood smoke came to tickle Maggie's nose. Behind the next few trees she could make out a wooden shack that had been weather worn. As they approached the cottage, Keith collapsed face first into the softness of the tiny new blades of grass.

 

“For love of the Maiden!” Vika complained from the small wooden porch. She heaved an annoyed sigh. “Angus, come out here and get the Tine’la. Redd, I hope you have time for a little healing.” The girl called over her shoulder to the brothers inside. Maggie knelt next to the unconscious red head. She placed a hand on his brow. It was scaly and burning. Angus came and helped her carry Keith in.

 

Redd directed them to a bedroom that seemed to be used only for his quality. “Right over there, on the table.” The trainer instructed. They set Keith down gently on a long wooden table covered with a sheet. “Now,” Redd said as he washed his hands in a basin at one side of the room. “Which one of you does he trust the most?” Maggie and Angus looked at each other. A silly smile lit up the boy’s face.

 

“He trusts Maggie more than us.” Maggie glared at Angus. His grin only broadened.

 

“Good,” Redd dried his hands on a towel next to the basin. “Maggie, I need you to go over by his head. I’ve gotten better at waking them up, but they still get a little freaked out. All you need to do is make sure he sees you. Just try to keep him calm.”

 

“I’ll see what I can do,” Maggie removed her cloak and hung it on a nail behind the door. The old floor boards creaked as her soft bottom boots carried her over to Keith. “But he’s a bit like Vika when it comes to being calm.”

 

“Then this should be fun.” Redd smiled. “Angus, you remember what to do right?” Angus nodded and placed a chair with a cushion two strides away from the table. “I don’t know how hard this will be on me, so just be ready to catch me when I fall.” Redd took a deep breath and lightly placed his hands on either side of the Tine’la’s head. “Everyone ready?”

 

Angus nodded. He set his legs and braced himself to catch his brother. The chair in placed behind them.

 

Maggie nodded. She put her hands on Keith’s shoulders to steady him when he woke up. She leaned her head closer to his so he would see her face.

 

“Here we go.” Redd closed his eyes. Within a few heart beats Maggie felt the energy from his quality in the air inside the little room. She glanced over at the door and saw it was bolted. Vika was probably on the other side, standing guard. What they were doing wasn’t bad. It wasn’t dangerous. It was only different. And different was a great fear for some. Qualities were power hidden inside every person. Most never figured out that they held such power.

 

Looking back at Redd, Maggie could see his inner power gently flowing down his arms, through his hands and into Keith in the form of green light. Not all qualities produced light when they were used, thus it was hard to detect one. The shoulders under Maggie’s hands began to stir. She braced herself as Redd said weakly, “Get ready! Fever’s almost gone.”

 

Maggie had time enough to blink twice before she had to hold down Keith. As his eyes shot open, Angus was there to catch his weakened brother. Maggie moved around the table so that she could look Keith in the eye. Behind her, Redd was being placed in the waiting chair.

 

“Keith? Keith, it’s alright,” Maggie squeezed his shoulders. He tried to sit up, but she made sure he was pinned. “Just calm down. “

 

“Guardian of the Veil’s!” Keith swore and tried to break free of her grip. “Let go of me!”

 

“Shhh. Keith, breathe.” Maggie spoke quietly. “Can you hear me? Relax. You just have to tr—”Trust her? Was that what she wanted? If she expected him to trust her, than he would expect the same in return. Maggie wasn’t sure if that was a good idea. “You just have to believe me.” Believing was different enough from trust.

 

Keith gulped in air as Angus unbolted the door and Vika came in. Maggie helped the Tine’la sit up on the table. “What did you do to me?” he asked, placing a hand on his head.

 

“Simple.” Vika responded while helping Angus lift the healer out of the chair. “You had a bad fever, fainted before Maggie could get you to the door step, and then Redd here healed you.”

 

Keith stared blankly at her for a moment. Then, in turn, looked at the others. “How?”

 

“I think it would be best for Redd to explain,” Maggie said as she washed her hands in the basin and then dried them with the towel. “It is his quality. You’ll have to wait for a while though. He needs to rebuild his strength. And so do you.” Maggie left him once he was off the table and made for the kitchen. She searched the cabinets and cupboards for something to eat. She was hungry. Her stomach rumbled in agreement. Eventually she found some bead, slices of meat in the cold room, and fresh lettuce. By the time Keith made it out to the kitchen, Maggie had several sandwiches made.

 

He sat down at the table and watched her for a while. “Did you throw me into a well?”

 

Maggie laughed. “Is that the first question that popped into your head?” She glance over her shoulder and caught him staring at her. He only grinned and raised an eyebrow. Maggie sighed. “Perhaps.”

 

“Perhaps?” He repeated playfully.

 

“Yes, perhaps. How much do you remember?”

 

“I touched your arm and the next thing I knew I was hanging from a rock in the wall of a fairly deep well.”

 

“Mm-hm?” Maggie continued making lunch.

 

“It does seem hard to believe, doesn’t it?” She wasn’t going to take the poorly set bait. Instead she found his attempts amusing. “And then, low and behold, you were there hanging upside down.”

 

“Imagine that.”

 

“I know! But the best part is that you pulled me out!” Keith was laughing as he leaned over the table. Maggie stopped mid-cut. The knife hovered over a sandwich. Breathe. Just breathe. She took two deep breaths and let the knife fall. It went through the bread like butter.

 

“Is…” Keith stopped laughing behind her as she placed the sandwich on a plate. “Is me being able to pull you out of a well that unbelievable?” She turned to face him, her eyes daring – challenging him to respond. The Tine’la took a breath to say something as Redd came into the room. “Redd, are you feeling better?” Maggie needed to distract herself. She put the plate on the table and returned to the counter to make more.

 

“Much. Thank you.” The tall man made his way over to the table, sitting in the vacant chair across from Keith. “Now, I guess you’re wondering what happened.” Maggie had her back turned to them, but she could still feel Keith’s emerald eyes boring into her back.

 

“You could say that.” His reply was cool but Maggie was released from his stare. She busied herself with drinks.

 

“Well then, where should we start?” Redd reached for a sandwich. “Maggie?”

 

Maggie brought over some water she had gotten from the well outside. “Qualities.” Keith looked up at her quizzically. “That is what they are called. Everyone has at least one. A quality makes a person unique in some way. Angus’s abnormal strength, for example. Although, most of the time they aren't that obvious."

 

"Exactly!" Redd cried through a mouthful of cheese meat and bread as he pounded his fist on the table. The sudden outburst made both Keith and Maggie jump. “Many, who do notice their enhanced abilities, rarely pick up on the fact that they are power. I know, surprising,” Redd chuckled nodded at the shocked face Keith was giving him. “All people have power, they just don’t realize it.”

 

Keith sat and stared down at the wooden table top, his face completely serious. “So everyone has some sort special ability?”

 

Redd and Maggie nodded.

 

“Does that mean that I have some kind of power deep inside me that is just waiting to be awakened?” Keith bolted upright, his eyes alight with excitement.

 

“Something like that, yes.” Redd cast a glance in Maggie’s direction that said, what is wrong with him? Maggie shrugged her shoulders and called the other two for lunch. They had to leave soon. She proceeded to wrap up the remaining sandwiches in oil cloth. Behind her, Redd tried to calm Keith down. “Hey, sit down! Don’t think that just because you feel better it means your body is healed. Ah, you two, come eat something.”

 

“What are you doing?” Vika asked with an extreme lack of enthusiasm. She stalked over and took the chair next to Keith. Angus tried to cover up his smile as he sat in the last chair. “We need to move on soon, so don’t get all excited and faint again.”

 

“I didn’t faint!” Keith cried defensively. “Girls faint. I collapsed.”

 

“Yes, because collapsing is so much manlier.” Angus murmured under his breath, but it was loud enough for everyone to hear. The Tine’la sat back angrily in his chair and glared at the crumb-filled plate in front of him. He crossed his arms and tightly tucked them in against his side.

 

The four of them continued to bicker as Maggie returned to the kitchen to pack the leftovers. She chuckled softly to her self when she heard her cousins ganging up on the Tine'la. "He's going to make things difficult for a while." She sighed to the oil cloths while she looked over her shoulder to see him sitting at the table. A smile came to he lips when she saw Keith's face flush with anger.

 

It was almost like he felt her smiling at him; because no sooner had the grin come to her face did his eyes flick in her direction. The uncomfortable bolt one gets when meeting eyes with another unexpectedly shot through Maggie's body. She tried to keep the smile and let her eyes wander to the window at the other side of the room. Her heart was pounding in her ears. Once she felt his gaze ease off of her, she turned back around with her back to them. Her stone was almost throbbing in time to the beat of her heart.

 

Maggie heard a bird chirping outside the window just above the counter. She opened the pane so she could hear the song better. A slight breeze drifted through the open frame. As soon as it touched her skin, Maggie’s vision went fuzzy. Then it went black. She faintly heard someone calling her name in a panicked voice, but she wasn’t scared.

 

She felt someone holding her up as her legs gave out beneath her. She could feel the stone burning cold against the base of her neck. But she couldn’t move.

 

The fog cleared in front of her eyes, but Maggie no longer saw the view from Redd’s window. Instead, she was looking at the busy market they were in earlier that morning. It was just as bustling, just as crowed, and looked just as noisy – at least from what she could see. Only her vision was at the market, all her other senses were still in Redd’s kitchen.

 

“Redd! What’s going on?” Vika sounded like she was on the verge of slapping someone, crying, or both. “Is she sick?”

 

“I don’t know. I don’t think so.” Maggie felt a soothing wave of energy pass through her body as Redd sent out his quality, searching for something wrong with her. The only place the wave didn’t reach was the area under and around her pendant. “Nothing? There’s nothing wrong with her.” Redd was obviously puzzled.

 

“Hey, um, what’s up with that–” Keith’s question was cut short was he sucked in a sharp breath. He must have tried to touch her stone. Maggie wasn’t sure if he had actually touched it or not, but she felt the stone grow suddenly colder. She didn’t think it was possible for its temperature to drop any more than what it already had. “Great Warrior! That thing’s glowing!”

 

Suddenly, Maggie’s vision shot her to a familiar figure. It was the little pickpocket girl from before, standing with her back to a wall, and peering around the corner of it. She turned and seemed to look Maggie straight in the eye. She smiled as if to say, ‘I’ve been waiting for you’. A tiny hand pointed around the corner. Maggie’s view shifted so that she could see what the girl was pointing at.

 

“They’re here?” Maggie whisper and felt the others lean closer to hear what she said, but she ignored their comments. Not ten paces from the corner stood the copper-haired woman and her three goons. They were searching the square for something. Maggie had a sickening feeling that they were looking for her.

 

Marco and Jay – the two guards from the pub stables – were scouring over the heads of scurrying shoppers. Their boss stood in between them, her arms crossed, not looking too pleased. While Andes – the big scary quiet guy – stood slowly pivoting, scanning the dark corners and crevices. His eyes shifted closer to the place the little pickpocket was hiding. Just as his gaze came closer, the stone burned cold once again and Maggie’s vision went fuzzy, then black as it had before.

 

Her sight returned to her. She saw that she was back in Redd’s kitchen. Not that she really left, though. Keith and the three cousins hovered over her head. Maggie spread her hands out and realized she was lying on the floor. She sat up with some help from Vika and Angus. The scene still fresh in her mind, Maggie tried to stand up. They had to move, and now. She stood up too fast and almost fell over. Keith caught her.

 

“Maggie, what in the name of Veil’s Guard…” His face was pale under his red fringe. “Are you alright?” Maggie looked into his green eyes and felt a pang as she saw the resemblance to Uncle Will’s concern.

 

“Of course she not ‘alright’!” Vika shoved Keith away and jerked her face closer to Maggie’s. “Hey, what the Veils was that?”

 

“I don’t know, and frankly right now, I am not in the mood to care.” She turned and addressed Redd. “How ready are you to leave?”

 

“Just let me grab a few things first. Why?” The trainer rushed around the house, stuffing things into several saddle bags.

 

“There isn’t ant time to explain. Angus, take Keith and get the horses ready. Vika I need you to gather all of our stuff. I need to pack some food before we run out of time.” Maggie tried to continue wrapping up her sandwiches, but Vika grabbed her arm.

 

“Maggie! Tell us what’s happening!” Vika was impatient. Maggie sighed in annoyance. She didn’t have time for this.

 

“We have to leave, right now!” She tried to pull her arm away, but Angus caught her other arm.

 

“We’re not going anywhere until you tell us what’s going on.” The boy looked at her with such seriousness, he looked beyond his years.

 

“Because those we had the pleasure of meeting before, have happened to follow us. I will explain once we’re far enough away, but time’s running out. Now let go!” Maggie broke free and marched to the counter. Behind her she heard the three of them leave and the door close. She sighed heavily.

 

A floor board creaked behind her. Maggie jumped and turned to face Keith.

 

Maggie suddenly felt uneasy being alone with him. If he was a spy from the King’s Elite, she wasn’t sure she could keep quiet about her reason for going to Tírbogha. He would stop her from reaching Ajax’s pass. He might steal her stone, but he would wait until they reached the bog women. Unless he knew more about it than her, he would need the same information she did. She definitely couldn’t trust him.

 

That was, if he was a spy for the King’s Elite…

 

“Maggie,” Keith slowly approached her moving across the worn floor boards of Redd’s kitchen. “What’s going on?”

 

“I told you to help with the horses.” She clipped off as she brushed past him. With her arms full of food, Maggie pushed the front door open with her hip and stalked out towards the stables. Keith was hot on her heals.

 

“Why won’t you tell me?” he questioned.

 

“Because it has nothing to do with you.” Maggie grabbed her aunt’s cloak and began stuffing their future meals into several of the inside pockets. She was momentarily surprised at how much fit in.

 

“It has everything to do with me!” Keith shouted. Maggie rolled her eyes. He followed her out to the well, but kept a few steps back. Maggie set some empty water skins on the rock wall and lowered the bucket. “Since you’re all forcing me to go with you, don’t I at least have the right to know what I’m in for?”

 

Maggie pulled the bucket up and dunked a water skin into the cool water. “No, I believe you have no right to know exactly what’s going on.” She knew that she had just provided a loop hole for the Tine’la, but she wanted to test him. His face was impassive, but in his eyes, Maggie saw that he had picked up on her hint. Keith stayed silent as he came closer and picked up an empty water skin. Maggie half smiled and plunged another water skin. “But, it might be best if you keep that fancy sword of yours handy. You might need it sooner than you think.”

 

With Keith’s help, the water skins were filled and stopped with pieces o cork. Neither spoke a word. At first the Tine’la seemed insecure about being alone with Maggie at the well, but he eventually relaxed. They returned to the stables to find the others already assembled. Maggie fastened the full skins to the horses’ loads while Vika watched the Tine’la warily.

 

“So,” Maggie’s cousin glanced over her shoulder to Keith’s sword as it leaned against a stall door. The girl had her knives out and pointed at their prisoner. Not once did their points waver. “You really gonna give it to him, huh?”

 

“Why do you even have to ask?” Maggie walked over and lifted the blade she had crafted with her uncle. “I know you were all listening.” Angus and Redd had the decency to pretend to look guilty. Vika only smirked. “I’ve decided to somewhat trust him, yes.”

 

Keith stared blankly at her, mouth agape. Don’t look so surprised, Maggie thought. I know that you wanted my trust. I’m waiting to see what you plan to do, now that you have it.

 

“Besides, if he kills us in our sleep, it’s his loss. He’d be lost before he reached the next village.” Maggie smiled wickedly at the Tine’la. His face was slightly flushed in response. Obviously, he was quick to anger.

 

“Well, if that’s all we have to worry about,” Angus grinned and took the sword from Maggie. “Make sure that when you do me, I won’t feel it. Deal?”

 

Keith looked amusingly flabbergasted. “Yeah, sure.” He stammered. Angus laughed and handed him his blade. Vika rolled her eyes and marched out into the yard in a huff, Daggers trailing behind her. Maggie and the others followed her out. Keith adjusted the strap so that his sword rested against his hip.

 

“Hey, I heard that you’ve been sharing Angus’ horse.” Redd playfully nudged Keith before he mounted his reddish stallion.

 

“Yeah.”

 

“You can ride with me too if you want,” Redd’s large hand clapped the Tine’la on the shoulder. He really was just a big friendly giant. Only, Keith hadn’t figured that out yet. “Steve and I would really enjoy the company.” Redd gave the red head a genuine smile.

 

Keith looked confused. “Who’s Steve?” Redd let out a belly laugh and slapped Keith on the back, sending the Tine’la stumbling forward.

 

“Why, he’s my valiant steed!” The large man replied like it should have been obvious. Keith, on the other hand, just looked at Maggie, probably wanting some kind of explanation.

 

Maggie mounted Gregor like the rest had, and shrugged. “I did tell you he was a good fighter. I never said he was good at anything else.” Angus and Redd laughed as Keith mounted the oddly named horse.

 

“Warrior, what have I gotten myself into?” Keith mumbled from behind Redd as they rode deeper into the Curtian Forest.

 

Hopefully, father away from their pursuers.

 

And closer to some answers.

Chapter 13

“No.”

 

“Aw, come on. Please, Maggie.”

 

“Redd, I said ‘no’.” Maggie tried to walk past her old trainer, but it was difficult carrying a pot full of water. She and Redd had gone to get water to cook dinner. Redd seemed to have forgotten that he had come to help. The whole time he had constantly been at her about playing a song. She loved to play; only when no one else could hear her. Her nerves would make her face and neck burn as if on fire whenever she knew someone was watching. She hated that feeling. Maggie decided that it was best to avoid it altogether. She went around Redd, but he side-stepped and cut her off. Cold water splashed against the cotton legs of her pants.

 

“Just one. Please.” Maggie looked up at the red head. His blue-green eyes reminded her of a dog begging. She was tempted to reach up and tousle his mop of red hair saying, If you do one of your tricks, I’ll do one of mine. Instead, she allowed all emotion to drain from her face, turned on her heel and headed back towards their camp. “I promise, I just want you to play one song, and then I’ll stop bugging you.”

 

“Redd, you know very well that with you, it will not stop at just one.” She called over her shoulder as she walked through the trees. The early bugs hovered around her damp leggings. She might try to swat at them, but then she would probably spill more water on herself. That would just defeat the purpose.

 

A dozen or so paces in front of her was their camp’s fire, brightly burning. At the edges of the trees, she put down her sloshing pot to try and regain felling in her fingers and parts of her hand. She stretched her arms above her head and bent down to pick up her pot again. When she straightened, Redd was standing right in front of her. Maggie bulked back in surprise. Since she had already spilled some of the pot’s contents, there wasn’t much left to tip over the brim. “Veils Redd! Do you want to eat or not?”

 

“Redd, leave her alone, will you? I’m hungry and I don’t really feel like eating you’re charcoal flavoured cooking.” Vika said from where she lounged on a low branch, cleaning one of her many knives. The horses grazed on the new blades of grass near the tree’s base. Maggie brushed past Redd and placed the pot next to the orange flames of the fire.

 

“At least my cooking is better than yours.” Redd retorted as he sat on a fallen tree and poked the coals with a stick. Angus chuckled from where he was unloading the horses. Keith was just returning from fetching more wood.

 

“I know, that’s why I want Maggie to make our dinner,” Vika sent the tall man a pointed glare. “So leave her alone.”

 

“I just want to hear one. Is that too much to ask?” Redd waved the stick around.

 

“Yes, it is. Now shut it!”

 

“What does he want?” Keith asked as he tossed a few more pieces of wood into the fire.

 

“Redd wants to hear Maggie play a song for him,” Angus replied. He walked over and took a seat next to his brother. “He figures that if he starts bugging her about it now, she’ll play after dinner.”

 

“I haven’t heard her since before I left.” Redd feigned wounded. Keith seemed curious as he took the rock across from the brothers.

 

“What does she play? A harp or something?” Maggie rolled her eyes. She was not some dainty lady who sat idly and gracefully plucked harp strings for entertainment.

 

“Oh no, don’t you encourage him,” Vika warned. She climbed down from her branch and plopped herself down by the fire. She leaned back against a rather large tree root and glared at Keith and Redd. “That’s the last thing Maggie needs right now.”

 

“But Vika,” Redd looked like an innocent child as he leaned towards her. “I also want hear you sing.”

 

Vika laughed mockingly. “Like Veils you do! Don’t you dare think that you can sweet talk me.” She spat into the fire, and then half grimaced at herself. Maggie smiled. Vika acted tough, and was most of the time, but she was still a young girl no matter what way you looked at it.

 

Maggie found the squabbling amusing. She had not said a thing throughout the entire conversation. She just hung back and observed them as she prepared their meal.

 

She went to get a few apples out of a pocket in her aunt’s cloak and other things from a pack. The apples almost looked fresher than when she had put them in. She pushed the thought aside as she also retrieved potatoes, carrots and some pre-cooked salted meat. She walked over to the fire and set them down on a nearby rock, then went back for a knife and a large spoon.

 

Maggie placed the pot onto a stone that she had told Keith to put in the pit. Soon the water was at full boil from the heat of the stone.

 

She peeled the potatoes and carrots, cut them up and put them in the pot of water. Next, she took the knife and sliced the meat into chunks and tossed them in with the potatoes and carrots. At the edge of her hearing, she heard Redd telling his infamous stories while Vika scoffed at some of his tales and Angus kept hushing her. She couldn’t hear Keith, though. But she wouldn’t dare look over, despite her curiosity.

 

With her luck, he just might be watching her.

 

Whenever she caught him starting, it made her feel like she was being sized and measured. As if she was on display at market. The strange thing was that she found herself wanting to impress him. Now, why would I want to do a silly thing like that? She asked herself as she tried to focus on her soup. He’s nothing that special.

 

Thus, she kept her eyes on her work and forced herself to think about other things. She did, after all, have more pressing matters to worry about than a troublesome young man.

 

If the woman with the copper hair was getting closer, Maggie knew they probably weren’t going to make it to the bog before another encounter.Since Keith was a Tine’la, she feared that they might recognize him. That surely wouldn’t end well. Maggie straightened up and sighed. If Keith reallywas a spy, he might be able to send word through the king’s bounty hunters about where they were headed. Only if they weren’t caught before they made it to the bogs. She glared into the cooking pot. There seemed to be a lot of if’s.

 

“I’ve heard, that if the cook looks at the food when they’re preparing it, with a face like that,” A large finger was shoved in Maggie’s face and she felt the root she was perched on take on more weight. “The meal will spoil before it is eaten.” She looked up and found Redd sitting next to her, his eyes teasing.

 

“Sorry…” Maggie leaned back on her hands. She suddenly realized that the others weren’t there. “Where’d everyone go?” She asked her trainer as she searched the surrounding trees from where she sat.

 

“Keith said something about a re-match. Vika said she wanted to see it because she missed it the first time. Apparently, it was worth watching.” Redd looked at Maggie questioningly, and she laughed. Keith wasn’t going to have a chance. “Anyway, Angus said that he wanted the practice.”

 

Maggie smiled at the pot of soup as she thought of Angus needing to practice. But her high spirits began to sink slightly, when she realized that Angus wasn’t the only one in need of practice.

 

“Hey,” Redd nudged her gently with his elbow. “Copper for your thoughts?”

 

Maggie reached forward and stirred the contents of the pot. “You know, right?” She didn’t take her eyes off the swirling pieces of meat,potatoes and carrots. “That we’re being followed?”

 

“Angus mentioned it back at the house, yes. Then there was that little episode with your stone.” She felt him watching her, but she felt too worn out to look up. “Well, according to him, the fight was quite something.”

 

“Angus is still a child, though. He doesn’t seem to understand how much danger we’re in.”

 

Redd made a scoffing noise. “Maggie, you’re still a child, you know. Do you know how dangerous it is for you right now?” Maggie felt energy slowly drain from her body. She didn’t really need to be reminded that she probably wasn’t ready to leave her home and take on her destined responsibilities. Speaking of which…

 

“Do you know about me?”

 

Redd shifted next to her. There was a count of eleven heart beats before he answered, but to Maggie, it felt so much longer. “It came with an agreement I had with your aunt and uncle. If I trained you, I had to be ready to go with you when it was time. Training you was an awesome responsibility, not that you were hard to train. I’m proud to be able to help you.”

 

Maggie couldn’t say she was completely shocked that he had known the entire time, but she was a bit surprised. She smiled slightly, that was just like them. Whether they were with her physically or not, her aunt and unclealways found some way to protect her. The odd time, Redd knew the right things to say. But, there were many more times that he didn’t. Maggie tried not to think of those.

 

“Honestly, I don’t know if I can do this.” Maggie sighed as she used to spoon to scoop some broth out of the pot. She brought it up to her lips and blew at the steam to cool it off.

 

“I know what’ll make you feel better!” Redd jumped up and walked over to their packs. A moment later he returned carrying the case for her fiddle as Maggie sat and continued to blow on the spoonful of soup. She eyed him skeptically as he set it down next to her. “Here we are!” He made a grand sweeping gesture towards her and the case.

 

Maggie sighed and rolled her eyes. “Redd, I already told you –,”

 

“I know you did, but I’m not asking you to play it for me.” Redd looked at her as if remembering a bitter-sweet memory. “Before I left, you used to play it to make people happy. You even told me that seeing those people smile and laughing was almost better than playing because you wanted to.”

 

Maggie felt like crying. They both knew it wasn’t because he left that she had lost the joy of playing. She was being selfish, and she knew it. She wasn’t the only one who grieved after Aunt Heather died.

 

Redd wrapped his hand up in a cloth and took the pot with the finished soup out of the flames. He put in on another stone that was covered in moss. “I’m going to get them. The Warrior is almost below the horizon.” Without another word he stalked off through the mighty trees of the Curtian Forest.

 

Maggie’s eyes followed him until he disappeared behind the large trunks. She glanced up at the sky and realized that the daylight had faded more than she had thought.

 

Then her eyes landed on the very familiar case sitting next to her on the ground.

 

*****

 

Keith’s pride wasn’t the only thing that was wounded.

 

He had lost to Angus, again.

 

He tried attacking from the trees, as the boy had done the night before, but found it was harder than he thought. He ended up falling from a fair height and then Angus found him and gave him a good pounding.

 

“How do you guys do it?” Keith asked as he limped beside Angus.His left side had a stitch, and his thigh was going to have a Warrior-awful bruise from falling out of the tree not to mention an assortment of scrapes and scratches from branches.

 

“What, you mean beating cocky nobles? That’s easy!” Angus smirked up at Keith who tripped over some tufts of grass at the mention of nobles. Angus laughed and Redd chuckled. “Give us a bit more credit. Maggie didn’t tell us anything until after we asked. But we had it figured out after we first met you on the road. Almost everything about you practically screams nobility.”

 

Keith sighed. He hoped that his appearance wasn’t that obvious. But with these cousins, he didn’t really have to worry about rank. “No. I meant, how do you move through the trees so fast?” Keith glanced at Redd expecting him to explain.

 

Redd laugh in response and shook his head. “Sorry, my friend.” But the trainer said no more.

 

Vika was the one to answer Keith’s question, much to his surprise. “Maggie is the one with speed across the branches. She might have taught us most of her tricks, she’s still faster that both of us.” The young woman indicated herself and Angus. “Some people just have the knack.”

 

“So could traveling through the forest be her quality?” Keith asked, interested.

 

“Perhaps.” Vika shrugged. “But I know for a fact that she has more than one.”

Keith was about to ask more about Maggie’s qualities, but just then a strange noise drifted in on the twilight. It reminded him of a harp, but the plucking of the strings sounded too tight. “What is that?” He asked, as he searched the trees around them.

 

Redd chuckled softly – knowingly – beside him.

 

Vika squealed excitedly behind Keith. “Redd! What did you do?” She jumped on his shoulder and he stumbled slightly. “I haven’t heard her in close to forever!  Not since… how did you do it?” Angus cleared his throat and made a face. “Okay, fine. Not since that pub, but before that it felt close to forever.” Both Angus and Redd rolled their eyes.

 

Keith was quite taken aback. He had never seen Vika in such a good mood. On his other side, Angus was beaming. A slow and gentle melody came floating into Keith’s ear with the next breeze.

 

“Well? Come on, tell me!” Vika demanded with a giggle.

 

Redd shrugged. “I told her what I thought. She might not seem like it, but she’s terrified. I told her what I thought would give her some confidence.” The trainer’s seriousness had a ripple effect. Vika slide off his back and went quiet. Angus stared at where his feet were going. His smile had vanished. Keith looked ahead of him, towards the camp. Was the strong young woman he saw Maggie as, scared? Just the thought of having people hunting him down, made Keith feel uncomfortable. He doubted he could even grasp the fear she knew of without knowing a bit more about her.Maybe I should have stayed with Daileas. He thought to himself, and not for the first time.

 

The four walked on in silence, with only the undergrowth crunching beneath their feet and the distance sound of Maggie’s plucking.

 

By the time they reached the firelight, their solemn air clashed with the sad atmosphere that waited there. Maggie sat facing the burning wood, eyes focused on the orange flames. In her lap was an instrument Keith recognized as a violin. It’s curved wood shown in the dimming daylight. Her fingers seemed to move with a mind of their own. The near black shade of the finger board had spots where the paint was slightly worn. The girl didn’t look up as they approached and took the empty places around the fire.

 

Without a word, Maggie reached behind her and pulled out a long thin piece of polished wood with white horse hair attached to each end. She turned a knob at one end to tighten the hairs. She looked at each of her cousins in turn. In the blue of those eyes Keith saw a mixture of fear, andsadness. But as her eyes landed on Keith’s there was a glimmer of hope that made his cheeks turn a light shade of pink.

 

“Shall I play?” Maggie asked in a quiet voice. Keith wasn’t sure if she was asking him, but he nodded anyway.

 

“Do you honestly think that we’re here staring at you for the fun of it?” Redd joked, lifting the mood. “For the love of the Maiden, girl, play!”

 

Maggie laughed softly and leaned against a large rock. She closed her eyes for a moment in thought, and then pulled the horses’ hair across the strings.

 

The song was calming and yet very sad. As Keith watched, he saw Maggie’s feelings come through the melody. He smiled to himself. This girl reminded him a bit of his mother.

 

Maggie finished the song to go on to play a well know tavern jig at Redd’s request. The group listened and ate their soup that Vika dished out. Keith found it surprisingly delicious. When he asked what it was, Maggie told him it was farmers’ soup. He made a mental note to have Maggie write down the recipe and have a cook make it for him once he reached Koal.Then Vika gave in to both Redd and Maggie, and sang several songsaccompanied by Maggie. A few of them Keith couldn’t understand. So he inquired about them.

 

“They are in Tìrish.” Maggie answered him. Her mood was much lighter.

 

“What?” Keith wasn’t sure he had heard correctly.

 

“Tìrish. The native language of Tìrbogha.”  Maggie answered again. “It was derived from the ancient language of Aosda, used in the original kingdom before the divide. Curta did use Aosda long ago, but the Tine’la kings eventually pulled away and created Labaid from their version of the Aosdan dialect.”

 

Keith sat back and took a moment to think. Despite all the history lessons he had taken, he never once realized that his language was completely different from what it had been originally.

 

Then Maggie got up and played a fast song.

 

Before Keith knew what was happening, Redd and Angus were bothup dancing in time to Maggie’s quick tempo, dragging him along. He had never danced like this before. It had always been minuets and waltzes with girls who annoyed the living daylights out of him. This was very different, but a nice sort of different. His blood pumped through his body rapidly, giving him a warm sensation. A smile came to his face as the three of them paraded around the fire, while Vika laughed and clapped, and Maggie’s fingers flew across the strings. The stars shone brightly above their heads as their laughter and shouts echoed among the large trees of the forest that had surrounded them for the past three days.

 

The beauty of the Maiden’s moon soon rose and pierced through the dense foliage of the large trees above the group’s heads. It made the forest around Keith seem almost as bright as it was with the sun shining during the day. He was leaning back against a large stone half cover with green moss, watching the fire glow.

 

The music had been packed up, ready for the next cheering-up session – except for Maggie’s quiet singing. She moved around their little camp, washing dishes, spreading bedding, and checking packs. Vika was on the branch the horses were tethered to, half asleep. Angus and Redd were playing a children’s game with cards near the fire for light.

 

“That was fun.” Keith commented to the bright flames.

 

“Don’t you ever do things like that where you’re from?” Vika asked through a yawn. She slide off the branch and pulled off her over shirt. Keith kept his eyes glued to the coals for fear of being smacked if he were caught looking. He took the sound of the fabric of her bedding rustling as an indicator of her lying down.

 

“Nothing quite like that,” Keith replied thoughtfully. “Usually dancing is a way of formally getting to know someone. The songs are slow and boring with precise steps. Once you memorize the steps, you can focus on the conversation. Be it with the wife of a businessman, or a potential candidate for courtship.” He shivered at the thought of the stiff outfits and the even stiffer people.

 

“Sounds boring,” Redd said without looking up from his hand. “Hah! Pick up five, Gus!” He slammed a card down on the pile between them.

 

“Gah!” Angus groaned and reached for the deck. “How do you survive parties like that?”

 

“I don’t think that is a fitting description of a party.” Vika mumbled from her sleeping pallet.

 

“I agree,” Keith nodded. He had to smile at the rare occasion of his agreement with Vika. “But honestly, I think of sword fighting to get through such events.”

 

“Really?” Maggie asked, interested.

 

“Yeah, I replay the last sword fight I have seen and pinpoint the mistakes and point scoring moves the fighters made.”

 

“Alright,” Vika waved a sleepy hand in the air from where she lay on one side of the fire. “Hearing about Keith’s interesting life is all well and good, but unless you have all forgotten, we are still being followed. So shut it and sleep!” The girl made a big show of flopping over onto her side.

 

“Vika’s right,” Maggie said. She was over getting a small brown bottle out of one of the packs. “Put it away, boys. You can play again tomorrow.”

 

Angus and Redd both whined like children told to eat their vegetables but pack up the cards like they were told. Angus took off his outer shirt and made himself comfortable on his pallet between Keith and Redd’s.

 

Keith looked questioningly at the trainer as he came and sat next to Keith.

 

Redd smiled and said, “I’m on first watch.” Keith nodded in understanding.

 

Maggie walked over to the fire with her little brown bottle. She whispered a few strange words while swirling her finger along the edge of the stopper. Then she opened the bottle and let three drops of a clear liquid fall onto the tongues that licked the wood and put the stopper back on. No sooner had the drops landed than the fire was dimed and then extinguished. There wasn’t even a smoke trail left.

 

“What was that?” Keith asked her as she put the bottle back.

 

“Well water with a minor magic enchantment. It douses the fire and prevents it from smoldering afterwards. But I let the heat of the fire stay for a few hours.”

 

“Did you speak to it in Tìrish?”

 

“You’re a good guesser.” Maggie smiled sleepily at him. He found his heart race slightly and his face warm. He averted his eyes as she removed her jacket and crawled under her bedding. “Don’t stay up too late. We have to leave early if we want to stay ahead of them.” The she too rolled over and was soon breathing a slow steady rhythm that matched the others.

 

Creatures of the night called to one another as the Maiden’s light climbed higher in the night sky.  Redd and Keith sat quietly listening to the night sounds. Redd was the first one to speak.

 

“She’s quite something, isn’t she?” He nudged Keith. The moonlight was bright enough for Keith to see his smirk.

 

“What do you mean?” Keith tried feigning innocence and force down the blush he knew lit up his cheeks.

 

Redd laughed quietly. “You’d be surprised at the number of young boys I’ve had come to me for training because of both Maggie and Vika. Two pretty girls fighting. It seems to be a hard thing to miss.” He leaned back on his hands and gazed at the stars through the tree tops. “But I bet you might not be as surprised at the amount of them that ran away with their tail between their legs once they tried to spare against them.”

 

Keith chuckled. “I can just imagine.” Those girls were better fighters than some of the soldiers in his uncle’s close guard.

 

“But there was one boy who never ran, especially from Maggie. He only left because his father had to travel for work. So the whole family packed up and left.”

 

“What was so special about him?” Keith found himself more attentive, but decided to think more on it later.

 

“He was partially deaf in both ears,” Redd glanced over at Keith and a knowing light hit his eyes. “But he heard every word Maggie uttered. No matter how soft her voice was. I guess something like that had never happened to her before. She has a soft voice, but has some pretty interesting things to say. All she needs is someone to listen.” Keith sighed. Redd chuckled. “Food for thought. Well, I better get to sleep as well.” And he began to stand.

 

“Wait, I thought you had first watch?” Keith stared at him a little confused.

 

“I did, but it seems that you’ve got some serious things to think about,” Redd walked over to his pallet next to his sleeping brother. “Besides, I trust that you won’t let us all be killed in our sleep. So don’t soil my trust and do something stupid. G’night.” The tall man lay down and was asleep faster than any of the others had been.

 

Keith sat and stared at him. Then over at the packs piled up next to a tree. Then he glanced at the sleeping forms of Angus, Vika and Maggie.Should I risk it? With a quick glance up at the clear sky, then back at the sleeping cousins, Keith let his curiosity get the better of him. He tiptoed over to the packs and reached for the one he thought was Maggie’s main pack.

 

Someone stirred behind him and he froze. He counted five antagonizing long heartbeats and went back to snooping. He opened the top of it and found his guess to be correct. There was a sewing kit, a hair brush and hair ties scattered on the top. He took each out one at a time and set them next to him on the ground.

 

As he went to continue digging through the top of her bag, a cloud drifted over the moon. Keith felt an uncomfortable chill spread throughout his body like a warning. He looked up at the spot where the moon was supposed to be, but he could no longer see it. He could have sworn there had been no clouds mere moments before. In the dark he heard what he hoped was a stick snapping under the hoof of a sleeping horse. He didn’t dare move, afraid he’d wake someone up.

 

Then came a gap in the clouds, and his sight was restored. The next thing in the bag was a white paper folded up. It reminded Keith of the letterhe had received from his uncle Camshron not five days before. Tentatively, he reached for the paper and opened it hoping the moon would stay out long enough for him to read something.

 

“‘If you are reading this, it means that your time has come’?” Keith read the first line of the letter in a whisper. He skimmed the rest of the letter written in blue ink. The fact that it was blue ink gave him a nagging feeling at the back of his mind, like he should know something about it. But it just wouldn’t come. He stared at Maggie’s sleeping form. She was a McGregor? Other things were possible, why not that? But his mind wasn’t accepting it as a true fact.

 

The moon was slowly being hidden by clouds again, but Keith managed to read the last three lines before his light disappeared again. “‘Let the First Family protect you. The path set before you will have many challenges. Be brave, be strong, and do not let fear control you.’” He stared at the wrinkled paper in the darkness. He had heard that saying before. His mother had used it, many times. He knew that it was an old saying, but hardly anyone could recite it. It was an ancient parting one would say to a warrior.

 

Suddenly, in the blackness surrounding him, Keith heard a muffled scream. He reached for his sword, drew it and stood at the ready. The discarded items and paper were forgotten. The moon broke through a little, but it was just enough for him to see. He searched in the dim light for the source of the cry and spotted Maggie thrashing around.

 

Quietly as he could, Keith hurried over and knelt beside her. Her face was in the blankets and her limbs were tangled. When he realized that she was only having a nightmare, Keith relaxed and set his blade down beside him. He moved to go and wake someone who might know how to deal with this better than him.

 

Then he stopped.

 

If he woke someone up, they would plainly see that he had been snooping. It would not end well for the lost, captured, disliked noble. Before he had decided what he was going to do, Maggie’s hand found his as she gripped it tight. At that moment the moon burst through the clouds almost rivalling the sun in brightness, and a fierce warm wind whipped through the trunks.

 

Keith, unsure of what he was supposed to do didn’t move. Even though, the light was probably coming through the leaves at different spots in the forest, it seemed to Keith that the entire moon’s light was falling on both of them.  Maggie’s lips were moving so he leaned closer to hear what she was saying.

 

“…me, you won’t die.” Keith moved to sit back up, she was muttering nonsense. Then her other hand slipped behind his ear and he froze. “Promise me, you won’t die until I get back.” She rubbed her thumb gently against his cheek. Keith gulped audibly and looked down into her face. Her hair was sprawled around her head in blond waves and her blue eyes, filled with tears, were glistening in the moon light. “Please,” a tear spilled from her eye. “Promise me, you won’t die yet.”

 

Keith wiped away the stray tear with his finger. He leaned closer and her eyes followed him. “I promise.” He smiled sadly down at her.

 

Maggie sighed and another tears rolled down her cheek. Keith caught it like the first. A small smile came to her lips. “I won’t be too long, okay?” She gripped his hand tighter.

 

“I’ll be waiting.” Keith replied. Maggie nodded and then her eyes closed and she was back asleep. Keith captured both of her hands and set them down gently. He noticed that the moon had dimmed somewhat as he collected his sword and returned it and Maggie’s things to what he thought was their proper places.

 

With an eerie sense of satisfaction, he woke Angus for his turn on watch and crawled into his blankets. Maggie had seemed awake. There wassomething about the way she spoke that made him think of the future. With heavy eyes, he looked up to the Maiden’s moon and thought of Maggie’s words and tears.

 

The last thought he had before drifting off to sleep was, Keith, what have you gotten yourself into?

 

*****

 

Thunder rolled across the sky above the Curtian capitol. Lightning lit up the black clouds like a falling torch with a jagged path; disappearing in the blink of an eye. The sudden flashes allowed Alec, the High Adviser, to glimpse the rain-soaked paths of the royal gardens. He stood by the grand windows of the Great Hall, watching the storm run its course over the sheltering homes of Koal. During an unusual combination of thunder and lightning, the king burst through the hidden door near the thrown. Alec turned to face his oldest friend.

 

“Good evening, Your Majesty.” Alec’s calm, cool voice was a startling contrast to the raging storm beyond the glass behind him and the brewing one in front of him.

 

“Veils!” Camshron swore as another clash of thunder made the room shutter slightly. “One girl. One girl is the only thing that stands in my way! What happened to those bounty hunters of yours?” He pointed an accusing finger at his adviser.

 

“No word as of yet, sire.” Alec glanced out the window in time to witness another spark of lightning.

 

“Mighty Warrior,” the king muttered under his breath. Sighing he ran his hand down his face. “What about Dominic? And Daileas? Have we heard of how they’re fairing?”

 

“I’m sorry, Camshron,” Alec’s grey eyes looked sad as another bolt of lightning illuminated them. “The messenger that you sent has returned, butneither of your nephews have–” Alec was cut off by someone banging against the large main doors.

 

“Oh, I’m sorry. Did you want in there? I can help you.” A young female voice was slightly muffled by the thickness of the doors. There was a detectable lilt to her voice that was evidence of once having a thick accent.

 

“M-me? Oh, um, n-no no, I think I can manage.” Came the equally muffled response of a rather frightened young man. The door opened slightly.

 

“Oh, but I insist!” The doors flew open and a sopping wet heap of clothes slid across the expertly polished floor. “Majesty, I believe he’s one of yours?” A girl who looked no older than the eldest princess stalked into the Great Hall, a trail of puddles formed from every step she took.

 

“Why would you think that, Enya?” Camshron asked skeptically. He eyed the drenched waist length auburn hair that usually held many curls, but was now slack with rain. Her light blue eyes held flecks of white that seemed to flash with the same intensity of the lightning outside. She was dressed in boys clothing, but she was, by no means, a typical tomboy.

 

Enya held out a messengers’ bag with the King’s Seal embroidered in silver thread. Her face was a mixture of annoyance and satisfaction.

 

“Lady Enya,” Alec spoke up and let his chilly presence fill the large room. “If this man is, in fact, his Majesty’s loyal messenger, why did you treat him as such?”

 

Enya scowled at the old man, then at the dripping messenger as he picked himself up off the floor. “Peeping Tom ‘ere–”

 

“My name isn’t Tom!” scoffed the insulted messenger.

 

“–Likes peekin’ t'ru a princess’s window in t’e pourin’ rain.” Thegirl’s accent slipped out as her anger rose. Her knuckles turned white as she clenched her fists. Alec took a step back in surprise of her answer as thunder boomed and the rain came down harder. She took a deep breath and let it out, slightly moving the wet hair that fell across her face. She tossed the drenched messengers’ bag with controlled movements to the now standing, equally drenched messenger.

 

“Why are you soaked as well?” Camshron’s whole appearance was emotionless. His eyes didn’t betray the turmoil of emotions that were ragging inside him like the storm opposite the glass panes mere strides from him. “There is no need for you to be outside in weather like this. What would Victoria do if you were to fall ill?” The king crossed his arms, like a father scolding a child. “Don’t’ be foolish. Rain can be very dangerous to one’s health. Please do not do something like this again.”

 

“So I’ve been told…” Enya’s voice became distance for a moment. “But, I have signed a contract to protect Princess Victoria. Rain is an ideal time for people, such as Tom, to attack, so to speak.” She nodded towards the glaring messenger. Lightening flashed and a heartbeat later thunder cracked above in the dark clouds. “Besides, I love the rain.”

 

“I, personally, would never permit my daughter to be entrusted into the hands of such a disrespectful woman.” Alec looked down his nose at the princess’s young body guard. His stone like jaw jutted out in disapproval. “Guarding the princess like a stalker out in the rain! Your Majesty, as youradviser, I–” The grey haired man was cut off short by the sudden sound of a tree’s trunk cracking, then splitting and finally, falling. Several screams drifted from some other place within the royal palace.

 

“Sorry, Majesty, but as long as men like him are what you two call loyal, I will be standing guard on many more a rainy night.” She bowed at the waist to Camshron and nodded to Alec. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some princess and servants to calm.” With that she turned on her heel and marched out of the marble hall, disappearing around a corner. The only evidence of her was the massive puddle on the floor where she had stood.

 

“She’s in charge of Princess Victoria’s security? Sire, where, beyond the Veils, did you find someone like her?” The messenger attempted to straighten his damp clothing.

 

“Oh, and Majesty?” Enya’s head popped out from behind the doorway of the hall’s main entrance making all three men jump. “Please inform Tomthat if he wishes to insult my being a woman and the current position I hold,” a knowing smirk made the threatening air around her become dangerously calm. “I would be more than happy for him to face me like the man I doubt he is and tell me what he thinks. Well, then, goodnight.” Lightening flashed outside and illuminated the entire room. Enya was no longer in sight. The three men shivered simultaneously. The storm carried on throughout the city.

 

The king cleared his throat. “Right, first order of business, Shad what news do you have for me?”

 

“Oh yeah,” Shad stood up straight and bowed before ruffling through his wet bag and finding his papers to deliver his report. “According to our sources, High Adviser’s hunters are hot on her trail. Apparently, the girl’s headed for the Bogs, sire. This statement is from the main informant; ‘Motives are still unknown, but she couldn’t possibly know.’” Shad pulled a face and looked apologetically at the king. “Sorry, sire, I’m not all too sure what he means. He said that you’d understand though.”

 

Camshron thought for a moment then nodded and asked, “Any word of my nephews?”

 

“Nothing really, sire,” Shad pulled out another sheet of paper. “Only that they’ve split, but neither have sent word or have been spotted.”

 

“Yes, thank you.” Camshron cast a glance out the large windows and into the down pour. “Second,” the King looked the messenger straight in the eye as he rose to his full height. “Shad if I found out that Enya catches you again, you will wish it had never happened the first time. Understand?”

 

“Y-yes, sire,” Shad seemed to shrink a bit under the scrutinizing gaze of the head of the Tine’la family. “Regretting it already, sire.”

 

“Hmph. Scram Shad.” Camshron flared his nostrils and leaned over his messenger. The young man slipped with wet boots across the smooth floor and slammed the doors behind him as he scampered out of the Great Hall.

 

“The girl couldn’t possibly know what’s in the Bogs… Could she, Camshron?”

 

“I don’t think she knows, but if she finds out, it won’t be good.” Camshron cursed under his breath and punched a tall marble pillar. “Alec, send word to stop the operation. Until she’s caught, or at least driven away from the Bogs, we can’t leave any evidence. Dominic and Daileas should be in Koal soon, which should make things easier. We can’t risk the girl finding out what we’re planning, not if she’s trying to get home. I want it stopped immediately, Alec.”

 

“I will do my best.” The High Advisor bowed to the king and slipped through the same hidden door the king had used to come in. The rain sounded like it was coming down harder, with no other noise around.

 

Thunder rumbled, and lightning chased the loud noise across the black sky. Camshron stared out the rain streaked windows. The mountainouslandscape of the Boundary could barely be seen through the sheets of rain and the storm clouds that blotted out the moon and stars. “If you don’t know what’s hidden in the Bogs…”

 

A large bolt of lightning lit up the sky and Camshron might have sworn he saw the silhouette of a woman where the moon should have been.

 

“Then, why are you risking your life to get there?”

 

The storm raged on, the thunder deafening, the lightning blinding. But someone still saw and heard those words muttered by the head of the Tine’la family – The King of Curta.

Chapter 14

Maggie’s eyes fluttered open and her hand shot to the now cool stone around her neck. Looking up through the tree tops above where they had camped, she could still see a few stars. Her breath came quickly as her mind tried to pieces of dream that floated around in her head. The sky to the east was purple foretelling the rising of the day. Thinking her throat hurt and her eyes felt puffy, she quietly got up. The fire from the night before was only a cold bed of coals thanks to the spelled water. Taking her time, she stepped around everyone else still asleep in the early dawn.

 

As she made her way to the bottom of a tall tree, she passed their packs. With slight agitation, Maggie noticed that her bag had been riffled through. At first glance in this dark light, she wouldn’t have noticed it. There was just something about it that drew her eyes. A few things had been tossed to the side, but that wasn’t any different from the rest. In the dim morning she could see a parchment tossed on top of her bag – her letter.

 

She stiffened, only allowing her eyes the freedom to move. Stray pieces of her hair caught the measured breathes she was taking.

 

Maggie had a feeling she knew who snooped. She tried to refrain from glaring at him through the dawn. Balling her fists at her sides, she forced herself to count each beat of her heart between her deep breaths.

 

Soon she would need to do something about that Tine’la, and soon. But right now there was a more pressing matter to deal with. Instead of waking the others, Maggie just put everything back. Before standing straight again, she remembered something. Digging through one of her larger bags, Maggie retrieved what looked like a stick with the diameter of three fingers. Firmly gripping the wooden piece between her teeth and stuffing a carpenter’s carving knife into her pocket, she began to climb the tree. She brushed bunches of leaves out of her face thinking she’d worry about that Veils cursed noble later.

 

Eventually she found a branch where she could see the eastern horizon once high in the tree. She set her wooden object close to where the branch connected with the main part of the tree so it wouldn’t fall. Looking to the gradually brightening sky, she felt a tear rolling down her face. Aunt Heather’s words seemed to echo in the branches around her, “Sunrises. They have to be one o’ the Lords greatest creations. Every time the sun comes up to light our day, ‘tis always different. Ever changin’.”  

 

It might have been an old priestess saying, but it seemed to fit her current situation. It was something her aunt would have told her if she was with them.

 

Whipping the tear away, Maggie took a long, deep breath of the crisp early morning air. She reached into her pocket and brought out the small blade. She picked up the cylindrical piece of wood and brought the blade to the smooth grain. To herself, she quietly sang the melody of her most favourite lullaby as her mind wandered and her hands worked away. A cool breeze came sweeping through the tree tops as Maggie carved a series of symbols with her carpenter’s knife. There were a double swirl, a star-like shape, and several notched lines that resembled feathers of a bird. She thought each word that matched the symbols as she carved them, infusing each stroke with some mild major magic.

 

Maggie held it up to better observe her marks and brushed the wood shavings off of her lap. With both arms straight out in front of her body, each hand gripping either end of the stick, Maggie murmured the spell that would activate the weapon.

 

“Oscailte, cliath.” Open, staff. The language of her home country came with familiarity to her lips. The double swirl and star carvings gave off a soft light as the magic took effect. At the same time, both ends of the stick grew. That continued until the staff’s length was roughly the same height as Maggie. Her aunt had taught her well.

 

She twirled the new staff, testing its weight. It moved fluidly with the movements of her hands. She didn’t activate the other runes. Redd would definitely want to do that for himself. Instead she whispered the deactivation spell. “Dún, cliath.” Close, staff.

 

Setting the enchanted stick on her lap, Maggie leaned against her hands, taking on a more comfortable position on the branch. One by one the stars that fill the night sky disappeared into an early morn. Maggie felt like she could sit up there forever, never taking her eyes off the horizon.

 

As Maggie watched the sky, waiting for the clouds to take on their many hues, the wind picked up. It carried the smell of burning wood. An involuntary shiver ran cold down her spine, causing her skin to break out in goose bumps. There was something about the way the cold fingers of wind tugged at her hair, pulled at her clothes. It was something foreboding. The wood smoke hadn’t come from their camp, of that she was sure. There had been no living establishment – not even a crumbling foundation – for a good few leagues or so. Though she tried, from where she sat, Maggie couldn’t see any smoke.

 

Not even a wisp of grey reaching for the dim sky.

 

Maggie closed her eyes and tried to push the wind’s warning away, despite the fact that a heavy fear had settle in her stomach, much like a stone. She tried to focus on something else

 

Last night she had a dream unlike any she’d had before. Maggie gently ran her fingers along the smooth surface of her cool stone. Strangely, during the dream she’d felt its heat on her collar bone. She traced its outer edge as scenes from her dream flooded her head. Arrows were flying everywhere. Blood stained her clothes and her hands. She knelt in front of someone, begging them not to die. She had pleaded with them to wait until she returned. Where she’d be, she wasn’t sure. She’d looked them straight in the eye and grabbed their hand. She could have sworn she was awake for that part; the hand in hers seemed so real, and warm – a comforting security in a nightmarish world. At first Maggie had expected it to be her Aunt Heather once again being cradled on her lap, like so many dreams before.

 

Instead, it was…

 

“What are you doing all the way up here?” asked a masculine voice right next to her, yanking her from her contemplations. Maggie sucked in a startled breath so fast that it hurt, and fell backwards off her perch. Flailing her arms, she managed to snatch the staff with one hand, while the other caught a branch. Why, on the Warrior’s green earth, did he do that? She was about to kill him – what a way to ruin a flowing train of thought. Looking up the tree, right where she had been sitting, Maggie saw someone peering down at her. “Hey, uh, are you alright?” he called down to her – at the moment she still couldn’t place it. No, she was not alright; she was dangling about 20 lengths of the ground, clinging to a branch with just her bare hands and was currently scared out of her wits.

 

Not to mention that she was now in a rather bitter mood.

 

Quickly Maggie pulled herself up and climbed back up to her branch, hoping that the sun hadn’t moved too much. When she got back up, she turned and punched whoever it was that had scared her. At the sound of a joking ‘Ow!’ she looked up to see none other than Keith. Not that she was exactly surprised. She felt the blood come to her face in an angry flush.

 

“What are you doing?” Maggie glared at him.

 

“I came up to see what it was you were doing up before the sun… and in a tree.” Keith smiled playfully at her. “What are you doing?”

 

“Some mornings I get up early to watch the sunrise. When I need to think.” Maggie looked straight at him, giving Keith her maddest glare, “And apparently getting scared out of trees. I will get even. You should watch your back.” She was finding it extremely hard to keep her anger flared. What did Keith think he would accomplish by smiling at her like that?

 

“I’ll keep that in mind.” He grin never wavered.

 

The two stared at each other as moments slid by, and Keith burst out laughing. He didn’t believe that she could get him? Hah, he would soon be in for a surprise. Then Maggie realized that she had never heard Keith laugh before. It was a warm and joyous kind of laugh; it reminded her of Uncle Will.

 

Suddenly, Maggie felt a laugh bubble up inside her as her anger melted away. Someone else’s laughter almost always made her happier, no matter how she felt before. When she couldn’t hold it in any more, her laugh exploded into the air.

 

Keith gave her an odd look, making her laugh more. She almost fell out of the tree again as she balance became unsteady, causing another laughing spree from Keith. Then the two were giggling uncontrollably. Eventually they calmed and their breathing returned to normal.

 

An awkward moment passed. Both averted their gazes.

 

“What is a noble doing up so early?” Maggie asked staring out at the tree line that reached up to meet the sky. “Even the servants aren’t up yet.”

 

“Exactly.” Keith’s green eyes glinted in amusement when Maggie made a face – she had never noticed how they shone when he was happy. Then again, she had never been close enough to see his eyes at all. “It’s easier to move around the grounds without the hired hands snooping about.” He shrugged a shoulder as if it was normal for everyone to dodge their hired help, and reclined against the trunk of the old tree. “Besides, I get more time to touch up my skills in the yard before I have to attend to my duties.”

 

“Huh.” Maggie hazarded a glance and caught him watching her, his emerald eyes intense. She quickly flicked her eyes forward again. All the stars were gone from the dark fabric that was the night sky. A thought crossed her mind. He was on watch when she had the dream. Should she risk asking him?

 

Keith broke the silence first.

 

“Um, how old are you, Maggie?” He asked.

 

At first Maggie wasn’t sure she should tell him, but then the stone pulsed. Like a comforting nudge. She decided she could risk it “Fifteen and a half winters,” Maggie thought for a moment and then nodded to assure herself that that was in fact her age. “What about you?”

 

Keith seemed to consider his answer carefully, his haze never leaving her face. “Sixteen. I’ll be seventeen in a few months.” Maggie sat and pondered the fact that the boy sitting next to her was almost a full two years older than she and yet still acted like a boy Angus’s age. She had to snuff out the urge to roll her eyes.

 

Maggie really wanted to ask him where he got his sword. She knew she couldn’t have mistaken her own design. Uncle Will’s seal was on the butt of the handle, no single smith had the same seal. She had only done one sword with that design. She sighed. Another question to add to her ‘ask later’ list.

 

“Don’t you get tired of watching the same old sunrise every day?” Keith was looking towards the sky that was constantly brightening.

 

“No, not really. It’s never the same sunrise, you know. When I was little, my aunt always told me that sunrises were a reminder of salvation. There was always a story in there, too – she loved her stories. They meant almost everything to her. There’s just something special about them that can’t be explained.” Maggie followed his gaze.

 

“What a beautiful way to remember her…” Keith awed. Yet quietly to himself he added, “I wish I could remember Da like this.”

 

Maggie still heard him.

 

Maggie turned and looked at him. There was a deep kind of sorrow that played in his green eyes. Another breeze came and tossed his shaggy mane of red hair around. From this angle, there was something about him, that made Maggie want to give him a comforting hug, but she knew better. Instead she lightly placed her hand on his. A surge of heat spread throughout her body and she felt like there were butterflies fluttering inside her. She felt Keith turn and look at her, but she kept her eyes down, trying to hide the blush she knew was rushing to her cheeks.

 

“I know what it feels like to lose someone you love.” Maggie whispered as she cautiously lifted her eyes to meet Keith’s green ones. She gave him a small smile before looking to the east again. Hoping to lighten the mood before the sun came she said, “The sun will be up soon. This day will be like none other.” Afraid that she might lose the feeling she had when their hands touched, she didn’t move.

 

As the sun rose higher on the horizon, her mind started to wander back to Uncle Will and Aunt Heather. Back to when the three of them would sit in trees together. Soon she was surrounded by memories.

 

*****

 

How could she say that? Keith couldn’t really remember a time when he did love his father. The only loved one that he had ever lost in life was his mother. Daileas – an eerie look-a-like – was he needed to be reminded of her. The girl perched on the branch next to him held her aunt’s memory in her heart dearly, but he held the guiltily memory of his father instead. It nearly blotted out the memory of his mother completely.

 

Looking down at their hands, he felt warm and safe. Just the thought of her hand on his made his heart do summersaults. Which was strange, right? When she had placed her hand there, he felt a jolt of energy and yet felt weak. The fact that she had left it there made him feel a little bit giddy inside. A slight cool breeze came sweeping through the trees again as his eyes slid up her thin, freckle covered arm, to her sweet face that seemed to have more freckles painted across her slight nose and both her cheeks. Her blue eyes danced as they watched the horizon. Her blonde hair had come loose from her braid when she fell and was now swirling around her like she was some sort of woodland faerie.

 

Half of the time, Keith wondered if these three children were real. Maybe they were just his imagination. Sometimes, when he was half asleep, he started to make a list in his mind of what they could be; it went from pixies to trapped souls to witches. Keith thought of how they had seemed to appear out of nowhere; how Maggie could just sit back in trees all day if she could; how Angus was playfully immature and how Vika would kill him at first glance if Angus or Maggie weren’t nearby. Wood nymphs were still the highest on his list. It hadn’t actually changed since he first stumbled over them at the edge of the Curtian forest.

 

Then there was the confusing case of Redd. He was tall, skilled, and seemed to know almost everything about Maggie. Maybe he was the mystical creature among this strange group. He acted like he knew everything – except when it came to naming; he had named his horse Steve. Obviously, it was one of the man’s weaker points.

 

Suddenly a strong wind whipped through the trees tops, blowing away his thoughts. Coming back to the real world again, Keith realized Maggie had removed her hand from his and she was shivering against the bite of the cold gust. The sky was much brighter now, but the sun was still sleeping. She had nothing heavier that what she’d slept in.

 

“Are you cold?” Keith asked the shaking frame beside him. The only response he got was a slight nod followed by more shivers. He could just see Maggie’s jaw chattering. Reaching for the clasp of his cloak, he undid it and draped it across her shoulders. Maggie looked at him with thankful eyes, and gave him an appreciating smile before looking back at the sun.

 

After a quick glance down to make sure that the others were still asleep, Keith carefully placed his arm around her bony shoulders. He had the right to be afraid, didn’t he? For all he knew Vika would wake up and see him touching Maggie and kill him the first chance she got, or Maggie would use his arm to throw him out of the tree like she did in that empty courtyard. When he first placed his arm around her she froze stiff, but to his surprise, her shoulders relaxed. He rubbed the arm farthest from him to help her warm up and she slowly leaned into him, like she wasn’t quite sure that it was safe.

 

Her soft hair came to rest on his chest. She smelled like cedar and pine. She seemed small and almost fragile with his large cloak draped over her thin frame. How could this girl throw his whole life twirling in the wind? Maggie’s breaths were long and deep, like she was falling asleep. Or trying to control the urge to kill him. Keith silently hoped that it was the former – and that she couldn’t hear his heart pounding in his chest. Gently, he brought his other arm around her front to position himself so that he blocked most of the wind.

 

Oddly, he found himself relaxing.

 

She was like a small child. Reminding him of when he and his brother were younger and they would hide in a secret kitchen cupboard whenever their father had one of his drunken fits. Two little boys huddled together. Daileas had been so small.

 

They sat like that until the clouds on the horizon changed to bright pinks and oranges. Keith’s mind was swarming with questions from the night before. Maggie’s notes, Vika’s beautiful singing, as well as the dances Angus and Redd taught him with near impossible foot work all played back in his memory. With a glance down at Maggie’s left hand – the one she used for the finger board – he noticed that the tips of her fingers seemed to be smudged with the black stain of the wood.

 

“Maggie?” Keith found himself asking. “How do you do it?”

 

Maggie sat up and looked at him with a puzzled gaze, as if her mind was somewhere else. “Do what?”

 

“Well, you know,” Keith wasn’t all too sure where he was taking this. “A girl as young as you traveling across the country on a whim. Bringing along a girl with daggers, and a boy with a crossbow and shield. How long were you guys alone before I came across you? ” As her look of confusion turned to one of irritation, he tried to clarify quickly – even though a little voice inside his head told him to quit while he was ahead. “I mean, aren’t you all too young to be traveling alone? Especially a girl like you. ”

 

“A ‘girl like me’?!” Her startling tone made Keith’s blood run cold. “You don’t think that I can take care of myself and my own cousins!” Her voice had no question in it. “What is it with men? Why do you all think that women cannot care for themselves?” Now she was angry. Did I say something wrong? Keith was now looking down into two blue stormy seas as they stared back at him.

 

“No! No, that wasn’t what I meant.” He held his hands up in defence against Maggie’s reddening face. For a girl of fifteen, she can be pretty scary, he thought.

 

“Well, then what did you mean?” she stared hard at him. What was he supposed to say to her? Franticly, he thought of what he could possibly tell her, that wouldn’t offend her. ‘Um–I–uh, I was just wondering how you could do such a thing. Leave everything that you’ve known and head north with only a letter as a guide.”

 

Maggie had her mouth open as if she were going to tell him how wrong he was, but at his mentioning the letter she closed it up tight. Keith realized that he shouldn’t have said that. Slowly she turned her head back around to the eastern sky, where the sun had changed all the clouds and part of the starless sky a pale yellow. “What letter?” Her voice was barely above the whisper of the wind in the leaves around them.

 

“Maggie I –” Keith started to explain why he had been sifting through her bag but when he saw the tear sparkling in the faint sunlight as it rolled down her cheek, he stopped. He found he couldn’t lie to her. “It’s not what you think.”

 

“Not what I think, huh? How do you know about the letter?!” she demanded as she threw his cloak back in his face. “So after we were asleep, you–you just went through my bag?” Her voice was rising with her anger. “What are you, a spy? Is this a game to you?!” Now he had no idea what she was talking about. “Cursed stone.” She mumbled.

 

“What are you talking about?” Keith couldn’t think of anything else to say. Keith was positive that she had no intention of trusting him at all. What did she do that made her think him a spy?

 

“It doesn’t matter. Why were you going throw my things? Wait,” – she held up her hand – “I don’t want to know. But, just a warning, it’s a long fall to the ground.” And with one swift gesture, Maggie knocked him off the branch. Before he could grasp what was happening, the ground was coming up to meet him. Somewhere, beyond his pulse pounding in his ears and the air rushing past his face, he heard a sharp whistle. Then, Maggie’s voice called for Vika and Redd to catch him before he hit the forest floor.

 

He was caught by two sets of hands with his face so close to the ground that he could feel the moisture coming off it, and thrown against the tree he just plummeted from. Trying hard to slow his heart rate and catch his breath, Keith stared up into the amused faces of Vika, Angus, and Redd. He could have sworn they’d all been asleep, but the alertness the gazes locked on him told him a very different story.

 

“Oh man, you sure got taught a lesson!” Redd smiled down at Keith. “Let me guess. You said something about her being unable because she’s a girl, right?” Keith nodded, stunned. How did he know? “Yeah, I’ve been there. I’ve even got the scare to prove it.” As Redd rolled the sleeve on his left arm, Keith could see a tin faint line running jagged on the inside of his forearm.

 

“Hah! Bet you can’t guess what he said to her!” Angus said to Keith, he sounded just as happy as Vika looked. She had a smile of pure joy on her lips. “One day during training, Mr. Unbeatable over here, thought it’d good idea to bring over wooden swords to practice sparing. Well, as you can imagine, she,” – Angus gestured up the tree – “wasn’t exactly excited to get up there and–”

 

“Redd thought that it’d be a skill she should learn.” Vika cut in, obviously hoping to be included in scaring Keith. “Mind, he also thought that making her mad to get her to fight was a good idea too. He did deserve it.” Vika’s smile lit up her whole face. If he weren’t still trying to make sense of the fact that Maggie threw him, again, Keith would have believed that they were all sitting around the fire like the night before, telling stories.

 

Then, Maggie landed on her feet like a cat, not three paces from his own feet. She turned towards Keith with a darkened face and red rimmed eyes. Maggie had been crying. But why? “He threw one of his wooden swords at me. But I refused to fight. Then he started throwing insults at me, still I wouldn’t do it.” Maggie’s pained eyes seemed to be driving into Keith’s very soul. “Finally, he stopped pushing me and asked why a girl would want to learn sword play when all we were good for was being good little wives.” There was something in the way she was looking at him, that made Keith assume she was more upset about the words he’d said instead of Redd’s story.

 

“You should have seen how fast she came at me! One’d never think a wooden sword could cut through skin. My hand hasn’t been the same. Even after I healed it.” Redd said with a grin, as he rolled his sleeve down. Flexing his hand, for emphasis.

 

“There was a knot that you hadn’t sanded properly! That’s how it broke the skin.” Vika glared at the smiling trainer.

 

“Alright, story time’s over. We need to move. Now!” Maggie glanced towards the rising sun and shot one last glare at Keith, and then she stalked off towards Gregor. The others dispersed to pack up the camp. Keith was too afraid to move. When Maggie told Vika what that he saw the letter, he would be dead before midday.

 

*****

 

Gregor shifted uncomfortably beneath her as the small troupe topped a small hill. Another gust tugged at Maggie’s cloak – her aunt’s cloak – and whipped the hair that had fallen out of her braid into her face. Maggie sighed.

 

Even her horse could sense the danger in the cool wind.

 

“Hey, Maggie?” Vika whispered, leaning towards her from her perch in Dagger’s saddle. “Can you feel that? The trees feel…almost empty.” The girl’s blue-green eyes moved from Maggie to scan the trees.

 

“She’s right,” Angus’s voice was close on her other side. “I haven’t heard a single bird since we left this morning.”

 

Maggie nodded in agreement. The whole morning had seemed a bit off. Redd, riding in front of them, leaned around Keith sitting behind him to address them.

 

“Does anyone else smell camp fire smoke?” he called back, giving Maggie a look, telling her that he knew she had already taken note of it.

 

Keith just looked lost. A question plastered on his face as he looked from Redd to the three of them, and back. Maggie didn’t let it faze her. If he, the noble blood he was couldn’t sense danger, might he ever figure it out? She wasn’t about to explain to their ‘tag-along’ why these signs had all of them edge. Watching his quizzical look, other thoughts floated into her head. Might it be better if he knew meanings of all the things he ignored every day, instead of dismissing them like others? They might need him to be prepared. Maybe she should tell him.

 

Before Maggie had a chance to open her mouth, Gregor’s left ear shot back in the direction of a rather leafy tree. Maggie froze. The pendant seared the tender skin under it. She reached in, grasped the leather band and pulled the stone out of the collar of her shirt. A cold blue shone from the freezing surface.  Trying to block out subtle noises around her – the crunching of dirt under horse hooves; the rustling of clothes; and the clinking of the tackle – one sound erupted. The drawing of a bow string – a sound she, for one, could never mistake.

 

“Sweet Maiden,” Maggie cursed under her breath. They had finally caught up to them. Now they sat waiting to ambush – and there was definitely more than four this time. She reached down on her right side, slowly pulling an arrow from her quiver, making it slide up the inside of her arm.  She leaned over towards Vika, who was on her left – closest to the hidden archer – and beckoned her closer. “I spotted a rabbit in the underbrush.” She made sure her voice carried as far as Redd, but no further. She inclined her head ever so slightly, indicating that Vika should move to her other side.

 

As the girl moved – loosening the hidden blades on her arms, and whispering orders into the horses’ ears – Maggie took into account the others subtly preparing. Angus had shifted his crossbow so that it was sitting lazily on his lap. Redd feigned stretching, his hand placed on his hip – the new staff well within reach.  Keith, luckily, picked up on what the others were doing. His hand now sat easily on the hilt of his shinny sword.

 

Squeezing her legs against Gregor’s side, more of a comfort for her than a signal for him, Maggie let her left arm fall casually so her fingers could wrap securely around the leather grip of her bow. She pulled her hood up over her head and the cape closer around her body to hide her hands as they strung the bow. One more long breath and she was ready.

 

“Mark!” Maggie called.

 

“Wait, who’s Mark?” Keith asked, confused. Maggi knew she should have informed him, but now was not the time. With one fluid motion, she notched the arrow, drew back and sent it flying towards the hidden archer.

 

A man screamed in pain.

 

Maggie smiled grimly. She’d found her mark. As long as he hadn’t moved much, the hidden archer wouldn’t die from the wound. As time around them began to slow, Maggie cast one last sad glance in the direction of the man’s scream – some days she hated her eerie accuracy. With her next breath echoing in her ears, she notched another arrow, waiting for the rest to attack.

 

A precious heartbeat of silence echoed around them.

 

Then all at once, time returned to normal – possibly speeding up – and the bounty hunters swarmed Maggie and those with her. There were ten men in all. That made two of them for one of Maggie’s. A man with a broad sword and another with a long bladed dagger charged Maggie. She recognized the second as Jay, a wicked smile on his face. Gregor stepped forward, trying to crush their feet with his hooves. Jay dove to Maggie’s left as the other man raised his sword and jumped for her. She loosed her arrow and it lodged in the large man’s shoulder. He hollered in pain and dropped his weapon. His hand went to the arrow as he tried to free it. Maggie took that moment to whack him in his neck’s sweet spot with the butt of her bow. He collapsed unconscious.

 

Jay seized the opportunity of Maggie’s turned back to get her off the gelding. His hand roughly grabbed her shoulder and she didn’t have enough time to react before she was sent flying through the air. The air rushed from her lungs when her body crashed into the gritted surface of the road. Jay laughed darkly and ripped her bow from her hands, throwing it over his shoulders. “You shouldn’t’ve have done that, princess. Ben’s a good friend.” His young voice was low and dangerous as he growled out her title.

 

While she was down, Maggie cast a quick glance around, trying to see how her cousins and Keith were faring. Vika ducked the huge fist of Marcus and swept the man off his feet, his large sword clattering out of his hand. The butt of one of her daggers struck the back of his head and he stilled. The girl’s attention shifted to a partially stunned mad with a mace.

 

Maggie jumped to her feet, threw her hood off, and pulled the hidden knife from her boot. Jay rush forward and she had enough time to dodge his swiping blade. Thrusting her palm’s heel in to his nose, the young man stumbled backwards with his hand to his face. She noted more movement around her as her opponent recovered.

 

Angus blocked a blow with his shield, delivered by a lanky man with a hatchet. Next the boy knocked his attacker off his feet with a well-placed punch that sent him flying into a tree trunk. The body slumped after his head connected with the bark. Another man came at him sword raised. Angus tackled him and struck him in the back of the head with the side of his hand. With both his opponents down, he ran to help Keith. The Tine’la held his own against two men with rather heavy looking broad swords. One was Andes.

 

“You vex me, Your Highness.” Jay glared at her, blood spat like venom as he spoke the words ‘Your Highness’. “Copper might be ordered for you to be alive, but the King never did specify how alive he wanted you.” Gregor chose that moment to make his presence known behind the bounty hunter. His hind legs came up and sent Jay flying across the road.

 

Redd’s voice rang out clear amongst the clash of metal and yelled insults. “Oscailte, cliath.” Open, staff. Her pendant grew slightly warmer and took on a pinkish light at the words, as it sensed the magic Maggie had infused in his staff. She spotted her trainer beyond the scuffles – the enchanted staff growing to the perfect length for his tall stature.

 

Maggie wasted no time in reaching him. Her cloak was hastily stuffed into one of Gregor’s saddle bags before she sped off into the chaos. She slid under the man Vika tossed into the air and had to dive over another that Angus had sent sliding across the ground. She gave Keith a quick nod before he turned and she used his shoulders as a brace to leap over Andes as he rushed them both. She kicked a man with a pair of sticks chained together in the chest, sending him backwards, as he came up behind Redd. Landing back to back with Redd she shot him a smug look over her shoulder. He raised his eyebrows, amused.

 

“Show-off.” He scoffed, rolling his eyes. He brought his staff down on top of another man’s head. The man dropped his sword and stumbled back, hands clutching his head. “Did I teach you no modesty?”

 

“Hardly.” Maggie laughed as Jay rushed her again. She side-stepped his narrow dagger, grabbed his wrist and used his momentum to fling him over Redd as he crouched. Redd raised a questioning eyebrow but leaned down when she motioned him closer. Whispering Maggie told him the command for the last set of symbols. “Make sure to hold the end without markings, away from you. If you order it a second time before closing them, they get longer,” she warned as Jay climbed to his feet again, preparing to come at her.

 

Redd threw his head back laughing, being fluent in Tìrish. “You, Smithy, are a genius!” He declared as he ran to Keith, who was still trying to fight off Andes.

 

Maggie just rolled her eyes and smirked at his childishness. She took her stance, ready for Jay as he came at her.

 

*****

 

Keith caught a glimpse of his own red hair coming up behind the tall man he faced. He recognized Redd before he sent Keith’s opponent to the ground with an end of his staff. “I could have sworn on the Warrior’s sun, you didn’t have that while riding.” He panted as they clasped arms like long-time friends.

 

Redd simply winked mischievously and said, “You haven’t seen anything yet, Tine’la.” He turned and faced the man he’d just knocked down.

 

Keith’s smile faltered and his heart felt like it had frozen in his chest. Redd had just called him a Tine’la! How could he possibly know?! The thought shot through his head before he could stop. He eyed the taller redhead standing in front of him warily. It was nothing to worry about, he decided. Keith probably just heard him wrong.

 

The man attacking Redd bellowed in rage and brought Keith out of his musings as he ran at them again. Keith lifted his sword up, ready to fight. Redd held his staff straight out in front of him. Keith gave him a look to let him know he thought the trainer was crazy. The young man only gave him a knowing grin.

 

“Oscailte, sceana!” Redd’s command rang out clear and confident. The man’s eyes widened in recognition and his assault slowed to a near stop, as some odd looking carvings began to glow. Giant silver blades broke free from then wood and shone brightly in the late morning sun. Redd chuckled in front of a stunned Keith. “Impressive, Smithy. Very impressive.” And he attacked the man standing dumbfounded mere paces from them both.

 

Keith tore his eyes away from the fight in front of him to find Maggie throwing fists with someone who looked not much older than himself – and was surprised to see she had the upper hand. With his attention elsewhere, Keith never noticed the man Angus had thrown earlier come up behind him, before it was too late.

 

A strong fist jerked Keith’s head back as it gripped a patch of his hair. Arching his back to try and reduce the pulling, Keith cried out in pain. The cold metal of a blade rested against the front of his throat, a lethal presence. Suddenly he was released and he stumbled a few steps back. His attacker was now flailing in a cloud of dust as Angus wrestled him. Keith regained his footing and hurried over to help the boy.

 

“Ben, get up!” A woman’s voice broke out around them. It was hard to place, but Keith glimpsed a flash of coppery hair off to his right before dodging an elbow aimed for his face. “Do your thing. I want those two boys down.” Keith felt cold fear wash over him. They were talking about Angus and himself.

 

Angus had just knocked the man to the ground and struck him in the back of the neck, before the ground beneath their feet began shaking violently. Loud cracks threatened to deafen Keith as he struggle to stay standing. “Angus! Keith! Above you!” Maggie’s voice barely made it to his ears through the noise. Keith spotted Maggie with her hands cupping her mouth as the younger man she’d been fighting with got back up off the ground. Her face contorted with pain as the man pulled her to the ground by her long braid. She hit the ground hard but managed to roll backwards and leap to her feet, her fists raised and ready to continue fighting. She was a spitfire, that one. Keith’s eyes shot to the sky above him searching for arrows or hawks. Any sort of weapon that might be attacking them from the sky.

 

What he didn’t expect was gigantic mounds of earth and rock.

 

Before either he or Angus had a chance to register the danger they were in, Redd appeared in front of them his magiced staff held out between them and the falling debris. “Oscailte, sceana!” Redd ordered the staff again. The blades that were already out began to grow larger as the trainer braced his feet and started spinning the wooden rod. It wasn’t until some clots were bouncing off him that Keith noticed the slight glow of magic surrounding the flying dirt. Did that mean it major magic or someone’s quality? It was hard to tell as stones and dirt peppered his face and the exposed skin of his arms.

 

Suddenly, Redd screamed and collapsed.

 

Angus was next to his brother in a heartbeat. Keith was there in another. Redd, face contorted in pain, clutched his thigh. Bright red blood stained the ground, pooling under the blades of the discarded staff. The world started to rumble again. The boy ripped the man who had cut Redd away from him and threw him like he was no more than a limp ragdoll. He crashed into a man that had attacked Maggie earlier. As soon as they collided the ground stilled again.

 

“Veils! Ben. Up.” The female voice sounded again, piercing through the echo of Keith’s pulse throbbing in his ears. He looked over at the man Angus had thrown and the man who’d been hit. A slight woman, clad in your average bounty hunter black with daggers and knives of every size displayed from shoulder to hip across her body, stood over the two of them. Tiny braids of copper pulled hair that would have been in her face back and into a larger gathering braid. With strength that didn’t match her size, she yanked the bottom man to his feet. She turned her calculating, stone cold hazel eyes towards Keith, then to Angus, until they landed on Redd. A cruel smile broke out on her lips, sending shivers down Keith’s back. “That one’s got major magic. He’ll fetch a fine price. Bring him.”

 

“What ‘bout the princess? The King wants her real bad, Copper.” A rather large man said as he tried to block several punches and a few good kick from a vengeful Vika. Keith recognized him, but couldn’t put his finger on where he’d seen him before. Then another thought struck him – what princess?

 

“Her Highness can wait, Marcus.” Copper gave a dignified wave of her hand to dismiss the idea. Flipping her hair over her shoulder, she patted the man called Ben on the arm and smiled seductively. “Do whatever you have to. I want him.” She turned her back on them all and strutted towards the tree line, disappearing in the shade and shadows beneath the branches.

 

“No! Leave him alone!” Angus screamed at the men who advanced on him and his wounded brother lying unconscious at his knees. He stood, face tear-stained and sent one man sailing with a punch to the abdomen.  Vika charged in, abandoning her fight with Marcus. She launched herself at another man, and gripping fists full of his hair, she steered him into someone else. Jumping off his back before they crashed to the ground, she landed and placed an elbow into a third man’s gut.

 

“Get away from him!” Her menacing voice, though several octaves higher and sounding more girlish than usual, made most of them hesitate their advance.

 

“Keith,” Maggie grunted as she wrestled with the same guy. She maneuvered her feet like an expert and knocked his out from under him. He fell flat on his back and lurched to his side as air rushed from his body. Her pale blue eyes met his, pleadingly. “Help them! Please, don’t let them take Redd. Aaahh!” Her hands flew to her side as she dropped to one knee and let her knife fall. The man rose up behind her and wiped her blood from his blade onto her back. He braced a foot on her and tried to shove her to the ground. She landed on both her knees with on hand out to catch herself and as the other clutched growing crimson stain on her left side.

 

Ben stood like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders, and once the ground started quaking once more, Keith knew that was exactly true.

 

No wasting a single movement, he sprinted towards Vika as Ben tossed chunks of road at her while she fought off two men at once. Keith dove and, gripping her waist, sent them both tumbling to the ground. “Veils! What were you…” The debris struck the two men in the chests – about the same height as Vika’s head if she’d still been standing there. The girl stared at Keith wide-eyed. Her lips moving but no words came out.

 

Keith had no time to be shocked at his own actions. He jumped to his feet and ran over to Angus who was currently holding his own against three others attacking him as well as fending off two more who tried to get to Redd. Before he could reach the wounded trainer, Keith was slammed to the ground. At first he thought he’d been hit by one of Ben’s rocks, but when a fist connected with his jaw, he knew it couldn’t be anything but human.

 

“Marcus, help me with this one. Leave him.” The weight was removed from Keith chest, unpinning him from the ground, as Marcus moved to help the other man.

 

He climbed to his feet in time to see Maggie fall to her knees again.

 

Her face was so pale. The stain at her side had seeped down to her leggings. Her eyes flashed with rage and determination as she sprang back up and brandished her knife again. She must have picked it back up at some point. He might not have to worry about her for a short while longer because Ben’s attention was still on helping the men get Redd.

 

Within a heartbeat, Keith was next to one of the men who’d broken through the barrier Angus and Vika kept. His instincts took over and he allowed his body to move of its own accord. He quickly landed a few punches and a particularly well placed kicks before sending the man towards Angus to be thrown. He was faintly aware of two other opponents receiving the same fate before he reached Redd.

 

Murmuring apologies, he gently removed Redd’s hands from the bloody clothes. The man was breathing through clenched teeth and his face was red and contorted in pain. With swift movements, Keith tore open Redd’s pant leg, exposing the wound. The gash wasn’t too deep, but it went from the inside of his knee and across the top of his thigh, ending midway up. Ripping the fabric of the leggings into strips and started tying them around his leg to help stop the bleeding – like Maggie had shown him how to with his own small cuts after sparring.

 

Once he was finished, Redd’s bloodstained covered Keith, causing him to look into the trainer’s face. “Let them take me, Keith.”

 

He must have heard him wrong again. There was no way Redd had just told him to let these people take him. “What?”

 

“You need to keep Maggie safe. I can’t heal myself now, and they already think I’m the one who knows major magic.” Redd said as he stared him straight in the eye.

 

“And you’re telling me this, because?” Keith was generally confused.

 

“We both know you have connections, Tine’la.” Redd gave him a pained smile, and upon seeing the look of shock on Keith’s face, he nodded. “Of course, I know who you are. Peasants are a lot smarter than you nobles think… Now, they’ll want to come after us. Don’t let them go in head strong. Maggie needs to get to the bogs, and she knows why. Get her there before anything else happens.” As Keith moved to stand again, his mind awhirl trying to figure out how to let them take Redd without the others seeing him and wanting to kill them, Redd grabbed his wrist. “I trust you to take care of my family, Keith. Don’t make a fool of me.”

 

Keith could only nod.

 

As soon as he stood up he was shoved away from the trainer and fell to the ground. When he tried to stand, the toe of a boot kicked him hard in the stomach, pressing the air out of his body. He hadn’t even caught his breath yet, when Vika landed next to him. Copper came out of the trees with their horses, one for every attacker. He had managed to climb to his knees when Angus, yelling and trying to hit the tall man who held him by the collar of his shirt, was also tossed aside like those he’d thrown himself.

 

Keith watched with the other two as three of the bounty hunters scooped Redd up and, after tying his hands, tossed him on to the flank of the closest mount. “Move out, boys!” Copper called as she smoothly mounted a rather large, black as night warhorse. There was a man on a horse next to her, his arm in a loose sling and his shoulder had a red stain on the bandage that was wrapped around it. He must be the man Maggie shot at before. The rest of the men mounted stiffly, some rubbing their necks from where they’d been struck, while others nursed bruises and favoured wounded limbs. Struggling, Keith finally made it to his feet and noticed that Maggie was still trading blows with the same guy.

 

Talk about stamina.

 

“Jay. Now.” Copper’s voice had an edge of irritation. Jay grumbled low in his throat, but eventually obeyed. He didn’t get far before Maggie’s fist connected one last time with his jaw. Jay spun to face her, a look promising death apparent in his features, but before he could do much else Copper barked at him. “Jay!” Reluctantly he turned and made his way to his horse.

 

“Redd?” Maggie swayed where she stood, bloodied hands on her side, her face a few shades whiter than a sheet. Her eyes watched the hunters disappearing around a bend in the road, but once they landed on Redd her whole face morphed with shock and rage. “Redd!”

 

Just like that, she dashed after them.

 

Keith took a breath to maybe call her back, but then the ground shook with a newly familiar warning. He looked and saw Ben watching Maggie. He’s going to hit her. The thought popped in his head as he darted after her. She stumbled slightly as another tremor hit, giving him enough time to reach her before the currently flying hunks of ditch could.

 

“Maggie!”

 

He called her name and she skidded to a stop, turning to look at him. Hot tears carved tiny rivers out of the dirt and dust on her face. He reached her in time to yank her away from the first few chunks as they crashed into the spot where she’d been just standing. They both stumbled back, Keith’s hand firmly gripping her upper arm , their chests rising and falling in staggered unison.

 

Maggie took a breath, like she was about to say something – but she didn’t get the chance. More ground shaking, more flying dirt and rock. Together they ran – more like he dragged Maggie as he ran – back towards Vika and Angus, who were currently trying to lean against each other to keep from falling because of the shaking ground beneath them. Suddenly, a large clot above them broke mid-air and pelted them all with sharp stones. Vika and Angus collapsed from the rumbling ground under their feet, exhaustion and probably having been struck in the head with dirt covered stones.

 

Before Maggie could try to get to her cousins, the road beneath them shifted and knocked her back against Keith. His arms wrapped around her as they were tossed away from the other two. Maggie let out a strangled scream as she clung to Keith. When he saw the unforgiving road reaching up to meet them, he pulled Maggie closer and braced himself for impact. They hit the land and Keith found them sliding across it on his back as Maggie lay unconscious in his arms. He squeezed her as close as he could so not to lose her as the top layer of the road made its way under his shirt collar and down his back.

 

Then his head smacked something very solid.

 

Then darkness.

Chapter 15

The first thing Maggie heard was a steady heartbeat.

 

Its constant thump slowly drew her up from darkness. As she shifted, almost every muscle in her body burned in protest. Her stone pulsed against her collar bone. She grimaced as another bout of pain shot through her side. Her eyelids refused to open.

 

The last thing Maggie had seen was Redd’s limp body being tossed over a horse’s rump like a fresh kill. The image flashed in her mind’s eye. Emotional stones began to sink to the pit of her – anger, regret, sadness, fear,

 

A surge of panic washed over her like a giant storm tossed wave, when she tried to pick herself up off the ground and couldn’t. Two strong arms held her in place. At first she thought they’d taken her with them. That she was now their prisoner. But once she forced her eyes open, she felt her entire body relaxed. A strangled breath – because the arms were crushing her – pulled some tension from her body.

 

Keith.

 

Her eyes fell to his face. There was a particularly nasty cut running from his hairline to just above his left eyebrow – among the other scrapes and bruises appearing on the plains of his face. His hair was damp and plastered to his forehead.  Blood ran from the cut, and trickled down his cheek. For a few moments, Maggie had no idea how they had gotten here. The sun was significantly lower in the sky. Her side flared in pain again.

 

Then she remembered. The fog was depleting from her brain. One of the men could throw rocks like they were pebbles. When Maggie had tried running after Redd, he’d chucked a rather big one at her.

 

Impressum

Texte: Madeleine M.
Bildmaterialien: Madeleine M.
Lektorat: Madeleine M., Meaghan McDonald-Walters, Anne Marie M., Violette M., Hilary Marshall, Sarah Ardent, Joan Driscoll, Mary Teresa Trueash
Tag der Veröffentlichung: 19.04.2013

Alle Rechte vorbehalten

Widmung:
For my family, who encouraged me to write, and for those who take time to read my work