Unknown (20 page)

It was the early hours of the morning when Villid felt himself slowly drifting awake. He remembered what had happened in a flash, and for a moment felt afraid – he was in the dark, could hear nothing, and what had happened to him? What had happened to Aya? Aya...
Then he felt her warmth beside him, and exhaled with relief. Aya felt him jump. “Are you all right?” she whispered.
“Yes,” he said, and reached to her. Silvery moonlight lit the floor – he was lying on rock and moss. “Where are we?”
“In the cave you found. We… were attacked by humans. We fought them off but one hurt you.
But I think you’ll be alright now.” she was so relieved that he was talking again that she couldn’t stop the tears pouring down her cheeks. “I used Night Vein,” she whispered shakily.
Villid’s thoughts strayed back to the previous evening. Yes, he remembered her dragging him into this place, crying, begging him not to sleep, saying things...
“Aya,” he whispered, and reached out a hand to wipe away her tears. She touched his fingers gently, holding his palm to her cheek. Aya’s silence was her response.
“Thank you.
” he sighed, and turned his head to face her. The rain had stopped,
and the moonlight reflected on
her face. He could see her green eyes gazing at him in the darkness, and felt warmth in his heart, something he hadn’t
allowed himself to feel in a long, long time.
He leaned closer to her, and then stopped, hesitant. Aya’s heart thumped, knowing what he was about to do, and a wave of nervous excitement flooded through her. His face was barely an inch from hers, and she could feel his warm breath gently fan her face. She felt a tingling excitement run through her skin, and hardly dared to breathe.
Villid sighed, and turned away. He wanted to kiss her, more than anything, but what if she wasn’t ready? What if he would scare her, or make her angry? What if…
But Aya gently
placed a warm hand on his bristled cheek and turned his face to hers. Heart pounding, every inch of her tingling with anticipation, she pressed her lips softly onto his.
It was bliss, pure bliss; his lips were much softer than she’d expected, and he kissed her with such longing that a wave of pleasure ran through her entire body. Villid had never kissed anyone with such desire before, and he knew that every part of him – body, heart and soul, wanted her. He encircled his hands round her slim waist before moving them up and entwining his fingers in her thick black hair.
A sigh of pleasure escaped Aya’s lips, and they drew apart. Villid looked at her questioningly, his hand resting on her hip. She touched his chest, gently pulling at his tunic, and began to kiss his neck. She was shivering with anticipation and excitement, hardly daring to believe what was about to
come, and yet not wanting to stop.
 

The tower stood high above the city, so high that it seemed the roof could touch the heavens. The black stone was built
in such a way that it was practically
impossible to see the door unless you were looking for it. The blackened wood blended into the wall so perfectly that it
seemed almost invisible.
It was a grand tower that spoke of excellence and wealth. The long windows were decorated with red curtains that gave a splash of colour to the otherwise dark stone. Eria gazed out of the window and to the busy city below her, where she watched the bobbing heads of bustling townsfolk as they went about their daily business. To the north, she watched creatures from all over Theldiniya train hard, with weapons that ranged from crudely made daggers to fine bows and swords. Her chin resting on her hand, Eria felt her eyes glaze over as she entered into a daydream. She remembered sitting in another tower like this, enjoying the gentle breeze, and watching a town not unlike this one…
She heard a loud bang behind her and turned. Her long, silvery hair was like a curtain that rippled behind her as she walked. With her flowing white robes and gold belt that sat at her waist, she was a vision of grace. “My dear?” she asked. Her voice
was like silk.
“Damn it all!” the man seethed, his hand still sitting on the table he had just slammed in frustration. The ends of his knuckles glowed a bright orange as he clenched his fist.
“So the rumours are true, then?” Eria asked gently.
The man didn’t answer her, but pulled a handful of half-ripped scrolls from his belt and thrust them onto the table.
Several fluttered to the floor, spraying dust onto the grey stone. Eria didn’t flinch. “I’ve had them decipher the whole lot. They’re not here,” he growled. “The scrolls have gone.
He
took them. I know it.”
“Shavon,” said Eria, bending to pick up the fallen scrolls. “How do you know they’re the ones? You were never really sure what the scrolls said.”
“The point is that it is all falling into place,” Shavon replied.
“Everything is too perfect, too convenient. When the Tyran told me he could wipe out the
Elves for good, it seemed like the end of it all.” Eria cringed, but only on the inside. To Shavon, she maintained a calm and graceful expression. “And didn’t they?” she asked.
“The Tyrans are there right now,” Shavon said, more to himself than to his wife.
“They established power there months ago. There couldn’t be anyone from that village still alive. And yet…” he gazed out of the window to the bustling city below. From here, they could see the
Elven and Tyran sections of the city
. “Rumours said that they came from the outside. Percival confirmed it to me. A forest
Elf and a branded Tyran, travelling together.”
Eria remained silent. Her husband’s hatred for the
Elves hadn’t dimmed, even after all these years. “You sent the Tyrans to the eastern forest?” she asked, unable to stop her voice shaking slightly.
“The tribe leader had some personal beef with the E
lves – he was more than happy to go,” Shavon answered her, still looking out of the window. His hands were clasped behind him, his long, billowing cloak waving slightly in the breeze like a rippling red river. “But yes, I sent them. If a Tyran and an
Elf have met, and the legend comes true, it’s all over.”
Eria turned from Shavon, cupping some of her hair behind her ear. Shavon had always hated the
E
lves, ever since the mages had arrived in Theldiniya so long ago. Then why, Eria wondered for the thousandth time, did he marry an
Elf?
Eria knew there was nothing she could say to stem the anger Shavon had for her people. Knowing that he had sent Tyrans to a helpless
Elven
village filled her with all the sadness in the world. But she was trapped here with the mages, and had been for an eternity. Immortality had been her reward, her reward for leaving her people
and marrying a mage lord.
“Eria.” Shavon barked behind her. She forced her face into a gentle smile and turned to face her husband. “My dear?”
“I’m going to Millnock,” Shavon picked up the scrolls from the table and stuffed them into his belt. “Cornelius hasn’t much time left, but he’ll be able to tell me everything. I’m getting to the bottom of this.”
Shavon marched out of the room, his heavy boots beating on the wooden floorboards of the staircase. Eria returned to her place by the window, and the memory of the Tyran and the
Elf came back to her. She smiled to herself as she hugged her secret.
“You may believe that they’re just rumours, Shavon,” she whispered to herself, “But it’s true. A forest
Elf and a Tyran are travelling together. And if the legend comes true, your power and your riches will be lost.”
‘And I’ll be free
,’
she thought, settling her chin in her palm once again to watch the world move below her. Eria smiled a real smile for the first time in years. “You’re afraid,” she said aloud. “My people will have their revenge.”
 

Aya’s eyes remained closed although she could feel the morning sunlight blazing onto her skin. For a moment, she felt as if she was back in her village; safe in the tower with the other servants, and Llyliana slumbering two floors above. Then she heard a loud rustling noise nearby and jumped awake, her heart hammering.
“I didn’t mean to wake you,” Villid apologised, standing at the mouth of the cave with a dead deer slung over his shoulder. He gave her a small smile. “You… look beautiful when you sleep.”
He blushed, looking alarmed with what he had just said, and busied himself with lighting a fire. Aya couldn’t stop herself smiling at him. She shifted to a sitting position, pulling the blankets further around her otherwise naked body.
Villid was stripped to the waist, wearing old trousers and his heavy chainmail boots. Aya felt a rush of warmth run through her as she watched him work. She still could not quite believe what had happened last night. She felt as if it had all somehow been a dream. For so long she had wanted him, knowing that the fact that he was a Tyran and she was an
E
lf made it, somehow, all the more desirable. How fond she had grown of him, and found the gentler, calmer side to his nature. How she loved the way he fiercely protected her, and how he filled her with
excitement and admiration.
Villid worked on building the fire, deliberately avoiding Aya’s eyes which he knew were watching his every move. Last night had been a blur – the fight with the human bandits, how he had been attacked, and Aya talking to him as she had dragged him to the cave. His heart had filled with warmth as he’d fought for consciousness and she’d begged him to stay awake, to not give up. Her voice had seemed thousands of miles away, and yet she had been so close to him.
And when he had awoken from his nightmarish state, and the fierce stabbing pain in his chest had died down, they had finally done what he had wanted for so long... she had given herself to him, for he was certain that before she had met him, she had never spent such a night with a man before, let alone a Tyran...
The fire was crackling when Aya pulled on her boots and tunic and came out of the cave. “Is it safe?” she asked.
Villid nodded. He had searched the forest at least a mile in both directions for more bandits early that morning before hunting the deer. Aya smiled at him and collected a jug from a bag on Acotas’ back. The stallion had wandered near the cave, and snorted softly at Aya as she approached him.
“I’m going to search for a stream!
” she called to Villid, who waved his hand in response. His heart went to her as he watched her trudge along the wet leaves and through the
trees in search of water. Last night had made him the happiest Tyran alive, and yet... did she regret it?
As he tore the animal apart and roasted meat above the fire, a fleeting thought ran through his mind – did
he
regret it?
Aya was back before long, clutching a jug of rainwater and a fistful of pale yellow leaves. “How are you feeling?” she asked him.
“Much better.” he said, examining the cut from the previous night. The bloody bandage had come off and the deep wound had healed quickly into a reddish scab. The Night Vein had done its work. Villid continued to cook. Soon it would just be another scar.
Aya crushed the leaves into a bowl and sprinkled them onto the cooked meat that Villid had prepared. As they ate silently, Villid knew one thing was for certain – whatever he felt now, it was not regret.

“Where do we go now?” Villid asked, after they had packed Acotas and made certain that they had left nothing behind to betray their stay. Villid knew that he would have to face the Tyrans sooner or later with the quest ahead – but he did not particularly want to go there first.
Aya thought about it. She could still not quite believe what had happened the past few days. Llyliana was dead. She and Villid had been sent to different tribes across the land to gain their support. And that night with Villid...
Aya felt afraid. Would the Dragons condemn them for this? It was unheard of for
E
lves and Tyrans to mate. Had
they committed a crime?
“Aya?”
Aya lurched back into reality and blinked. “Sorry,” she muttered. “The Seers said that we should visit the Knabi first, so let’s do that.”
As they climbed onto the grey stallion, Aya said a silent prayer. “Forgive me, Talgi,” she whispered. But she could not find it in her heart to feel remorse for what she and Villid had done. He had protected her so many times, accompanied her since her village had been destroyed, and she knew that the love she felt with him wasn’t wrong. It couldn’t be.
Last night, she had been lying awake, pleasure mixing with pain as she had remembered her family, her friends, and everything she had believed in. It was because of the Tyrans that Neecrid, Flint, her father and Llyliana were all dead. As she had felt Villid’s strong arms around her, she’d wished with all her heart it could be less complicated. Villid was not an enemy – he was her friend, and more than a friend. Without him, she would be alone, lost, and probably no better off than the other
Elves.
They rode out of the forest, Villid scanning the scenery around them for any
signs of danger. He felt Aya’s arms circle his waist as she held onto him. Complicated emotions surged through him at her touch. He knew this was different from the many nights he had spent with Tyran women, for they had been emotionless, purely for
physical pleasure. With Aya, it felt like the first of many nights he wished to spend with her. He wanted her always, to protect and care for her. Villid felt wary of these emotions, as they were unheard of for a Tyran, especially for an
Elf.
“Well, most Tyrans,” Villid muttered aloud, painfully remembering his mother. That was the reason for him being scared of having feelings for Aya – every person he grew attached to had been torn from him. His mother had died for being affectionate. The Seer had been cruelly cut down by Shade. Swift, his brother, most likely didn’t trust him. But now he had Aya... and he would never let anything happen to her. Never.
The forest soon cleared and they were back near the mountain range leading to Fort Valour. The cliffs towered above them, steep and majestic, and a single eagle flew around at the top in search for prey. The sky was cloudless, but it felt fairly chilly. Summer would soon be ending.
“Where exactly do the Knabi reside?” Villid asked.
“To the south of the eastern forest where we met,” Aya replied. “But I am unsure where, exactly. Only members of the
Elf council were ever allowed to go there.”
“Well, we could go back to Fort Valour,” Villid suggested. “It’s safe, we can stock up on supplies and get our hands on a map. Knabi live in Fort Valour, I’m sure someone could
help us.”
“That would make sense.”
Aya agreed. They had no idea
where the Knabi homeland was, and it was pointless to wander the land for miles searching for it. Villid was right, going back to Fort Valour was their best bet.
They rode through the familiar valley with the long, winding river. The current now followed them as Acotas galloped along the fields. The river was even deeper than it had been last time; the surface was inches from the bank as the strong current roared along. They soon stopped for water, and the stallion drank at the river thankfully.
The area where they had stopped was covered in huge boulders, creeping up to the cliff that towered above them near the river. Grass and moss covered different parts of the jagged, uneven cliff – it almost looked as if there were hundreds of caves hidden in the rocks. The thought gave Aya a great sense of adventure and excitement.
Villid and Aya drank some of the water and rested beside the river’s edge. Aya pulled her shirt further around her – it was getting a little chilly. She was worried. How would they find the Knabi? What would they say when they found them? ‘Excuse me, but we need several hundred soldiers to combat another race? Sincerely, an
Elf and a Tyran’?
Aya was about to voice her worries when Villid suddenly stiffened and put a finger to his lips. Over the steady gurgling of the stream and the wind, they could hear a definite sound of voices.
Villid’s immediate instinct was to hide. He and Aya quickly
stumbled over some rocks and towards a large boulder where they could crouch; Villid yanked an indignant Acotas by his reins and dragged him behind the huge rock just as two figures appeared from around the corner. They crouched in silence, hearts thumping.
“…supposed to meet him around here,” said a woman’s voice; it was deep and scratchy, as if she had something in her throat. “Where is he?”
“As if
I’m
supposed to know.” a sulky male voice replied.
“It’s a rhetorical question. Not that you’re aware of what a long word like that means.”
the footsteps got dangerously close to the boulder where Aya and Villid were hiding. Villid kept a tight grip on Acotas’ reins, but the horse stayed as still and silent as them, as if he knew to keep quiet.
“Do you think he’s been acting strange lately?” the male replied. Villid was curious about these characters, but he didn’t dare peer around the rock. It sounded as if the people were walking away, but he suddenly heard the woman’s voice close to them again.
“When has he not been strange?” she replied with a harsh laugh. “But yes, I know what you mean. He hasn’t been right since his horse was stolen.”
Villid and Aya stiffened, turning to look at the grey stallion, whose glassy black eyes stared back at them both.
“Come on,” the man said eventually. “He must be waiting further up ahead. Who knows why he decided to come to this cursed valley. It gives me the…”
The footsteps and voices soon died away as the couple travelled further upstream. Villid let out a low whistle of relief. “Did you hear that?” Aya asked. “They know who Acotas belonged to.”
“Not necessarily,” Villid answered uncomfortably. The grey stallion had been a valuable companion to them for a long time now – he didn’t like the idea that the true owner was out somewhere looking for him. “Well it’s good luck that we were the ones who found him.” he said cheerfully.
They raced along on Acotas, Villid keeping an eye out for any more signs of others. As the sun began to sink into the hills around them, Aya gave a loud yawn. “Let’s stop,” she suggested. “Acotas must be exhausted.”
“I think you’re the one who’s tired.” Villid said, but felt a rush of affection for Aya as he gently pulled on Acotas’ reins until the horse had come to a stop. There were no caves around, but several large, broken walls that looked like they used to be cottages. Aya began to lay out the bedrolls, and put them closer together than she usually would have.
“Villid,” said Aya softly, as they roasted meat above a small fire. The flames from the fire reflected in his dark eyes as Villid turned to look at her. Aya’s heart seemed to miss a beat as she and Villid gazed at each other. She edged closer to him, her heart aching. He looked so beautiful in the firelight; his frame was lean and muscular from a lifetime of
training; his dark eyes seemed to penetrate her very soul. As she leaned and kissed him, her worries seemed to melt away, and as he took her into his strong arms, she felt as if she was released from the tension and the fear. The roasted meat was soon forgotten, and as the flames died away, Aya and Villid lay in each other’s arms, watching the moonlight, Aya resting her head on his strong chest and giving a happy, tired sigh.
“I love you, Aya.” Villid whispered, waves of emotion crashing over him. He was not afraid of his feelings anymore – tonight he felt like less of a Tyran than he ever had in his life. No more would he embrace pain and fight his true emotions. How could he, when the woman beside him meant more to him than anything else had before?
“And I love you, Villid.” Aya whispered, before pressing her lips to his again. Now she felt no shame, no sorrow. If it was so terrible for her and Villid to be together, surely the Dragons would have struck them both dead by now. She held him tightly, never wanting to let him go, her heart jumping in pleasure as he softly kissed her neck, his hands running gently along her body.
‘Whatever happens in the future, we can handle it
,’ Aya thought to herself as Villid made love to her for the second time
. She loved to see his usually stern face transform into one of quiet pleasure, feel him inside her and send shockwaves of pleasure through her body. Afterwards they lay entwined in each other’s arms, and they both fell into a dreamless,
peaceful sleep; not even the thunderous, triumphant laughter of a God could have awakened them.