Mist & Whispers (17 page)

‘Get down!’ Harrion shouted, but it was too late. Their attackers charged and sent Anya flying across the building. Harrion waved his hand at the barricades as the opposing soldiers pressed on with another run. The fallen parts returned to their original places, but didn’t stay there long after another ram from Team Fausty. This time they were in, arrows bouncing off them in every direction; Efrem, Linos and Tark had penetrated their defences.

Cael was there immediately, taking on both Tark and Efrem, whilst Harrion scrambled to help Anya.

Out the passage!
Harrion’s voice thundered in her head, but their escape route was blocked by the clash of Wolfond and Linos.

She made a split second decision and thrust her vambrace at the wall. The little building shook as chunks of brick and plaster blasted out into the open. She ran out, rounded the corner and ended up in the arms of Sol, one of the eldest on Faust’s team and the soldier with the eye patch she’d met at their first feast around the fire. He scooped her up in both arms, held his hand over her mouth and dragged her back across the territory line, Anya kicking and struggling all the way. The marshal called it, and the first round went to Team Fausty.

The teams took five minutes to reconvene and go over their tactics.

‘Right, new plan...’ Gavriel was still panting after Faust had kept him busy for the best part of fifteen minutes. His arm was dripping with blood but he refused to let Harrion fix it, telling him he needed to keep his energy intact. ‘We stick together.’ He turned to the archers and took another deep breath before he continued. ‘The arrows are no help here, they just bounce off their targets. It’s great practice, but we all know we’re fighting for much more. I want you on foot, and falling back with us. You too, Wolfy – you may as well hang that crossbow up now.’

Wolfond confirmed his adherence to the new plan with a simple grunt.

‘Bas – Bear – if I hear either of you making bets whilst you’re trying to capture the prisoner, I’ll have your fuzzy faces turned into my personal boot buffers, I swear.’

‘Got it, Boss,’ Basra saluted. Bear nodded too.

THE FIVE MINUTE
interval elapsed and once again an enchanted stone crumbled in Gavriel’s hand, marking the start of round two.

They decided to go straight up the middle, and, using Harrion’s senses, they avoided their attackers and made it past enemy lines. Gavriel gave orders to split into two factions to find the prisoner, a risky tactic leaving Anya only half guarded, but one that worked well. An ambush hit Cael’s team to the east whilst Gavriel’s team stormed up to where Lorcan was chained and attempted to take him back to their side.

It pained Anya to see Lorcan like that; chained, bruised, and spiritless. He made no attempt to react to Wolfond’s advance, even when his wing was slashed by Linos as he tried to ward off the grizzly Straggler.

She wanted to help him, but his control kept her from giving away their friendship to the others. He’d made no noise as the blade opened his scales, nor as his blood
–
that appeared black in the darkness of the village – peppered the ground. A mere wince was all he allowed his captors to take from him.

A hand grabbed at her face, another at her waist, and once again she was being dragged away from the scene. Her care home upbringing served her well over the next few moments, and she fought the scrappiest fight she’d ever had in her life, kicking, throwing elbows and even biting. Finally, a swift back-kick to her assailant’s groin forced him to drop her. She wasted no time in spinning round a delivering a good punch, right in his gut. The power of the mageium seemed to extend into her fist, as he flew back, full force into a wall and slumped to the ground, unconscious.

Catching back up with Wolfond, Team Anya were declared the winners of round two.

Her team mates gathered without celebration, ready and raring to go again, but she didn’t take in any of the plans. The words just buzzed around her whilst Lorcan consumed her every thought. Her chest was burning fiercely. She needed a way to prove he was innocent, but so far she hadn’t had enough time to look. The only thing they’d come across so far was what Wolfond was sure was Dark Blood, but could a substance believed by so many to be just an old folk tale really exist? And if so, how could its presence in Silver Forest clear Lorcan’s name?

The third and final stone crumbled and once again they were in play.

‘Anya! What are you doing?’ Steph whisper-shouted at her as she crouched behind a burnt out cattle shed. ‘You’re supposed to be with Basra and Bear!’

‘Where did they go?’ Anya whispered back, trying to get her head back in the game at hand.
One more,
she told herself.
He only has to go through one more game and then he’ll be back in his cell, and safe.

Steph pointed to gap between two houses, but when Anya got there, it was obvious she wasn’t the only one who hadn’t listened to Gavriel’s instructions. There was no sign of Basra or Bear anywhere.

She heard the clatter of blades in the distance and crossed her fingers that the game would be over soon.

Something rustled in the dead leaves ahead. There was never a breeze in Virtfirth so she knew immediately it was a threat. Alone, she raised her arm, ready to take down anyone – or anything – that may have her in their sights, but just as she was about to retreat, the discernible, resounding roar of a dragon tore through the village, and incinerated what little fuse she had left.

That was it. She couldn’t take anymore. She couldn’t let them keep hurting him, no matter the cost. Even if it meant losing the support of the entire camp, she was going to make sure they’d never touch him again.

His anguish echoed through the darkness as she raced to find the Dragon-Boy. Ahead, Linos and Tark jumped out from behind an old cart and charged at her.

‘Out of my way,’ she spat at them. Her need to get to Lorcan, to stop the horror that was being inflicted upon him, gave her more strength than she knew she even had. Without thinking, she dived for the ground and took out their ankles with her vambrace, and they tumbled like bowled pins behind her. Rolling back up onto her feet, she spared them none of her attention; she had only one goal now and this time it wasn’t the spell of some strange and evil drink that drove her, but the fire that engulfed her heart.

She ploughed through the village, sprinting past members of the Crown Guard and of her own team, dodging trees and leaping over rubble until she eventually found him. Laid out on the ground, his wing was no longer the only source of escaping blood. Someone had beaten him to an inch of his life but there was no need to guess who was responsible.

‘FAUST!’ she growled as she ran to Lorcan’s aid. He was so battered; she didn’t know what to do first. She ripped a strip from the bottom of her t-shirt and tied it round a gash in his arm, trying to staunch the blue-green blood. Tears hazed her eyes as panic set in. He was barely conscious.

‘I’m okay
–
’ he tried to say but she only shushed him.

‘No, I won’t let them hurt you anymore!’ Her hands shook as she wiped more blood from his face.

Around them, the soldiers had gathered, but whether they were Faust’s men or the Stragglers she didn’t know. She couldn’t look any of them in the face. She was too angry. She could feel their presence as they just stood there, stunned by what they were witnessing
–
their saviour helping their enemy.

She heard Gavriel gently telling her to stop.

‘You’re a good kid, but Anya, he’s a criminal, a killer.’

‘He didn’t do it!’ she cried, still trying to put pressure on one of his wounds.

‘Well done, Marked One, well done!’ Faust’s voice was eerily proud as he marched over to her. ‘You captured the prisoner, and in your own territory. I’m impressed.’

She hadn’t noticed they were still in the Stragglers half of the field, but with a quick glance she realised he was right. But why had Lorcan been left on their turf, unmarked; an easy win?

‘You did this on purpose,’ she spat at the General. ‘You did this to him and then left him here as bait!

‘Bait? That’s laughable, little girl. Now finish your mission.’

‘What?’ She looked up at him, a mixture of disgust, disbelief and confusion.

‘You are here to train for your eventual battle against the Darkness, are you not?’ She didn’t answer. ‘Yes, you are. And if, during your mission, you discover an enemy, you must take him out or die yourself. So, it’s time to see if you have what it takes. Finish your mission, girl! Finish him!’

‘Faust, this has gone too far
–
’ Gavriel began but the madness behind Faust’s eyes as he bellowed his next words chilled them all as stock-still as ice.

‘TAKE HIM DOWN!’ Veins throbbed in his head, his face almost purple.

‘No!’ She squared up to him, staring back fiercely.

‘YOU FAIL THE PROPHECY UNLESS YOU FINISH HIM!’

She’d never, ever, seen anyone
this
angry, but still, she did not back down. ‘IF YOU ARE THE KIND OF PEOPLE I’M DESTINED TO SAVE, THEN I DON’T WANT ANY MORE TO DO WITH THIS STUPID PROPHECY. YOU CAN STICK IT!’

Faust exploded. In a fit of rage he unsheathed his sword, raised it into the air, and before anyone could stop him, he plunged it straight through Lorcan’s chest.

T
HROUGHOUT THAT SLEEP
, words spun around the camp from barrack window to barrack window, twisting what had happened in Silver Forest so that no two residents heard it the same. For a portion of the sleep, some men believed that it had been Anya who’d gone mad and that Faust had been the one run through back in the village. Some even believed that the King himself had lost it with the prisoner after discovering that the Marked One had befriended him.

By rising, the camp was divided. The epidemic rumours had touched every man, infected their minds and turned their allegiances one way or the other. Some men lost faith in the prophecy altogether, having been loyal to the General since before the Darkness. Some men, all the Stragglers included, placed their faith in Anya. They didn’t like the fact she believed Lorcan innocent, but respected her compassion enough not to hold it against her.

Anya made it clear to Theone that he was to either give her full control over the fulfilment of the prophecy or she would leave them to fend for themselves again. She also made her feelings about the treatment of prisoners known too, and King or no King, he wasn’t let off lightly.

‘You give the impression that you are a kind, gentle and wise King, but really you’re just as bad as all the other rulers in history, if not worse! Did you even take the time to consider that what he told you was true? Or did you just
“let your frustration cloud your judgement?”
’ She rounded off her rant by mimicking the King’s voice, her anger at the situation souring what would have been a sugary tone.

‘Child, you use my own words against me with perfect precision. But, lest you forget, you were not there when we found him in the burning village. He had my son in his hands and my family were dead!’ He reached for his neck and slid his fingers around the chain that sat tucked beneath his armour. He lifted it over his breastplate and she noticed, a gold medallion that had been previously hidden. In places, it looked black, as if tarnished by flames. ‘This was all that was left. Their bodies were nothing more than ash, and I found this – my brother’s medallion – right by where the Dragon-Boy stood. There was enough circumstance
–
’

‘But there was no real evidence either! And think about it, if Lorcan had anything to do with your wife’s murder, if he had killed her or really killed all those people in the village, why didn’t he hurt Harrion? One more wouldn’t have made the difference! And since you’ve held him here, yeah, he’s tried to escape – who wouldn’t after the brutality you’ve put him through? – but he’s never once hurt your men! And he could have. One fire ball and this entire camp would be fu...’ She bit her own tongue to stop the word before it fell from her mouth, consciously deciding that a more eloquent term of phrase would be better. ‘I mean, would be turned to ash! Ever thought why he’s never done anything like that in the eighteen years you’ve been torturing him?’

‘The enchantments I have around the camp stop it from falling to fire. But,’ he sighed, ‘my men are not shielded by my spells. I see now why your weapon of choice could never have been a sword at all, for your words put up a stronger fight than any swordsman I know.’

She didn’t want to smile. She hadn’t won her case just yet, so she folded her arms and remained impartial to the compliment whilst he deliberated.

‘I cannot let him free. If proof of his innocence is brought to me, then it becomes a different matter, but until then, he must be held. Now, I understand what you have said, and truly, I am ashamed. I have let my own agony unman me. I will make it known that from this day on, all prisoners of Virtfirth are entitled to a fair trial and that our men are never to lower themselves to the level of savages again, no matter the grievance held.’

‘And what about Faust?’ To a degree, she could understand why he wouldn’t let Lorcan go until she’d found some solid proof. But Faust... he was one bird short of a cuckoo clock. Theone couldn’t let him carry on, roaming free around camp when he was
that
volatile. 

‘I regret that Faust will have to be detained until his mental state is determined. I fear the Darkness may have seeped into his soul, though how deep it runs, we may never know.’

Well, it was something at least.

THE KING HELD
an address at the feast that sleep, squashing the rumours once and for all and informing everyone of the new policy on holding prisoners.

‘He told them the truth about Faust, too.’ Harrion told Anya whilst he visited her in the medic’s hut. Lorcan had been unconsciousness since Faust thrust his sword into his chest, but his shallow breathing, hadn’t stopped. In the medic’s hut Grinling did what he could to heal his wounds. Anya hadn’t left his side once.

She even refused to leave when Theone had called for her, forcing him to visit the medic’s hut himself. According to Harrion, his dad had never let anyone get away with calling the shots. His bending must have only been down to the fact she bore the mark of the prophecy.

She didn't reply when Harrion spoke. She hadn’t slept since before the training match and, after a full twelve hours of dealing with soldier after opinionated soldier, she was done. She couldn’t care less what any of them thought of her or her friendship with Lorcan. She’d had enough of trying to explain herself and nobody listening. It was like being back at the home. The men would make their own minds up and there was nothing she could do about it. All she could do now was what her instincts told her, and they were telling her to stay with Lorcan.

She didn’t understand it, the connection they had. Why it felt like her chest was on fire ever since he’d tumbled out of the sky. Why that fire grew in intensity when he was close or hurt, or why he knew, without a shade of hesitation, when she was in danger. Perhaps their fates were tied together in some way. Perhaps he was part of the prophecy, and in freeing him she’d find the answer to freeing the land. Whatever it was, she did know one thing: no one deserved what he had been through.

‘Anya?’ Harrion said, coaxing her from her thoughts. ‘You should get some rest. There’s no telling when he’ll wake up, or if he even will.’

‘Heal him. You want me to rest so bad, heal him. Use your magic right now and make him better.’

‘You know I can’t.’

‘No, I know you won’t.’

‘Don’t be like that. If it were up to me – ’

‘If it were up to you, you’d ignore that crap your daddy came out with and just do it, like you just snuck out when he told you not to.’

‘Anya, the camp is split right now. The men’s loyalties are on the rocks just because my father won’t renounce the prophecy. If we heal him without any proof of his innocence, we’ll look weak and that will be it. Those who doubt him will leave and what we’ve built here will crumble. Believe me, we’re stronger together than we are apart.’

‘Whatever. I’m staying, Harrion. He has no one else and it’s not right him being alone. No one should be alone like this.’ She stared down at the Dragon-Boy, who had been de-cloaked. It was only now, seeing the scars and wounds that laced his body for the first time,  that she could truly grasp what Faust and his men had done. The source of some of that pain he carried behind those beautifully abstract eyes was staring right back at her through the creeping, silvery lines that splintered his mostly human torso. Scales covered the length of his back, and grew around his entire neck, but the front of his chest remained human, save for a slight vein-blue tinge. Anya figured it was the unique colour of his blood that made his human skin appear that way.

‘What makes you so sure he’s innocent?’ Harrion asked her.

She couldn’t make out whether he was infuriated by her or just plain confused, but ‘I don’t know,’ was all she gave. It was all she could give, because truthfully, she didn’t know how she knew. It was a feeling, far stronger than instinct or intuition. As if Lorcan was a cave only she’d found the entrance to, all his secrets, his truths and pain concealed inside for her and her alone to discover.

Harrion exhaled a long and arduous breath and got to his feet. ‘Your kindness puts us to shame, Anya.’ He kissed the top of her head in the most brotherly of ways, and left.

LORCAN FINALLY WOKE an hour after rising the following sleep. Anya was sitting next to him, cleaning his wounds with a special mix of dead roots and strange looking things from the jars that lined Grinling’s shelves, when she noticed his eyes flicker open.

Her chest roared with the usual fiery sensation Lorcan gave her, but despite it, she breathed a big sigh of relief. ‘I thought you were a goner for sure.’ She placed the cloth back in the mixture and offered him a glass of water.

As he sat up and took the glass, his right wing flicked out from behind him, sending his hammock swinging unsteadily from side to side. Barlem, who was guarding the prisoner, thought he was trying to make a dash for it, as he reached for his sword and was about to charge over until Anya glared at him.

He retreated, but his eyes remained wary.

Grinling calmly looked up from across the hut and took note that the Dragon-Boy had awoke. He seemed unfazed by the tension between Barlem and his patient and returned quickly to whatever it was he was tinkering with without saying a word.

‘Me, a
goner
?’ Lorcan glanced at Barlem whilst he sipped at the water. ‘He wishes. Unless this curse is reversed though, I’ll never be a
goner
.’

‘What do you mean?’ she asked, replacing the water on the side table and returning to cleaning his wounds.

‘The curse,’ he said, shifting uncomfortably in his hammock and retracting his wing. ‘It made me half dragon.’

By the way he said it, he obviously expected her to know the rest. She looked at him blankly. ‘I’m not from round here, remember?’

‘But there are dragons in the lands you come from, yes?’

‘Only in story books,’ she answered. ‘Where I’m from, people don’t believe in such things.’

Lorcan laughed, wincing at the pain it caused, then laughed a little more before settling back in the hammock. ‘Sorry, it seems odd, people not believing in dragons.’

‘It’s less odd than not believing in peacocks.’ They smiled at each other for a moment, the usual chill in the Virtfirthian air suddenly pleasantly warm. ‘What’s so magical about dragons then?’ she finally asked.

‘They’re immortal.’