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They began to travel south-east. Villid retrieved the large map Morque had given to them in Fort Valour, and found where they were – beside a mountain range marked near the middle of the map. “It’ll take several days to get to Vallahan,” said Maajin, riding ahead of them on his fine horse. The stallion’s tail swished as it walked, as if swatting away flies. “Without horses it would take longer.”
“Aya?” Villid muttered, and pulled her to one side. “You go on,” he called to Maajin and Navin. He turned back to the
Elf. “Aya, I want to know what’s going on,” Villid said, holding her by the shoulders. “What’s the matter?”
Aya hesitated. She knew she would have to tell Villid what was wrong some time. She couldn’t hide it forever. But was now really the time and place to tell him that they were going to have a baby?
“Nothing is wrong, Villid,” said Aya gently, avoiding his gaze. “I’m fine now.”
Villid gently touched Aya’s chin, and tilted her face until her eyes met his. “I love you, Aya,” he whispered. “I know there’s something wrong. If you don’t want to tell me, I won’t force you. But know that whatever happens, I’ll never leave you.”
He kissed her, and then turned away from her to stride towards Maajin and Navin. A tear trickled down Aya’s
cheek. “If only you knew,” she whispered to herself, and then ran to catch up with him.

The days slipped by one by one as they braved forests and fields towards the southern lands of Theldiniya. The further they travelled, the warmer it became, and it wasn’t long before the clouds disappeared and the sky stayed a brilliant, warm blue. They saw no sign of Darkma, soldiers or other creatures, and Navin hopefully declared that perhaps they had gone forever.
“Don’t be so ignorant,” Maajin scolded after Navin’s confident estimate. “The Darkma would never disappear, not that easily. Keep on your toes, and never stop covering your own back, do you understand?”
Maajin never usually spoke much, and always travelled a little further ahead of them, his robes billowing behind him, his black staff sticking out of a bag on his horse’s saddle. His young yet slightly wrinkled face was always tightened into a frown.
“If he’s a mage, why doesn’t he perform magic?” Navin whispered one day, as they reached another mountain range, where Maajin said the other side was near where Vallahan lay.
“Perhaps he only uses it when it’s vital.” Aya suggested, remembering the brilliant green flames they had seen at the human village of Millnock, and again when Villid was being attacked by the Elves and the Tyrans at Fort Valour.
“Magic makes you weak,” Maajin called behind them; apparently he’d heard them talking. “Using magic can be dangerous, especially if it’s a powerful spell. Mages only use their magic when they have to.”
“Well, that’s not very good, then,” said Navin, who had become braver around Maajin in the past few days. “If I could do magic, I’d use it all the
time. I wouldn’t have to move.
”
Maajin let out a snort, but said no more. They stopped to eat on top of a hill. The view was spectacular; snow-tipped mountains towered above them and grey clouds swirled amongst the peaks. Far away, they could see a waterfall gushing from the mountainside.
“We’ll take this path,” Maajin said, pointing to Villid’s map, and spilling crumbs onto it as he spoke. “Through the mountains, not over them. If the weather gets bad – which it does here – we will mostly be sheltered from it by the cliffs. Unfortunately, we won’t be able to see much at night, and that is a good way for an ambush from enemies, so keep on your guard.”
The day was getting old once more; the sunset soon sunk beneath the mountains and the stars shone brightly from the heavens. “Look at the sky,” Aya breathed in awe. “Doesn’t it look beautiful?”
They stared silently skywards; billions of bright lights twinkled at them from above. Even Maajin looked impressed.
“It is indeed beautiful,” he sighed deeply. He cleared his
throat. “Forward we go. Dismount the horses here – it’ll be too difficult for them to climb this part with us riding them.”
Aya held onto Villid as they ventured downhill, pulling the horses by the reins, and heading towards a small gully that
twisted through the mountains. Some of it looked very narrow.
“We shall have to go in single file,” Maajin muttered to himself. “We travel there first thing tomorrow morning. For now, let’s set up camp.”
They laid out their bedrolls again. For countless nights now they had slept under the stars, or in caves if it was raining. Villid and Aya had slept as close together as they dared; they had no idea how a mage would react to a Tyran and an
Elf courting, and they didn’t want to find out.
The gully was sheltered; they heard the wind picking up in the mountains but the rocks either side of them sheltered them from it. It gave Aya comfort knowing they were safe between the rocks; although, of course, an enemy could stumble upon them at any moment.
Maajin took the first watch, settling himself upon a rock above them.
Aya covered herself in her blanket. As the weeks had gone by her worries were mounting; it would not be long before the inevitable consequences of her pregnancy would show. The morning sickness had finally ended, but she couldn’t hide her secret forever.
Villid lay beside her, the moonlight shining on his face. The bruises on his face had healed, but his eye had changed from dark brown to a strange grey-blue; he had confirmed he hadn’t been able to see from that eye since he had been attacked. The effect wasn’t frightening, but strange, and Aya felt not repulsion, but pity, as she stared at the man she loved.
How to tell him? She couldn’t just say ‘Villid, I’m having your baby’. She couldn’t just wait for him to guess himself, or even cover herself up until the child was born. And what of the child? Would it have the strength of a bull? Three arms? A terrible disease? Aya couldn’t bear to think about it.
“We will reach Vallahan soon,” Navin whispered, breaking the silence.
Villid grunted in response.
“I’m worried,” Navin said. His response
was silence. “Aya, I’m worried.”
“I know you are,” said Aya patiently. “Don’t worry, Navin. There’s nothing we can do right now.”
Aya soon fell asleep, but Villid lay awake. What trials were still to lie ahead of them?
No sooner as he closed his eyes, it seemed, Villid felt himself being shook awake by Maajin. “It’s your turn to keep watch, Villid,” Maajin hissed. “Good luck.”
Villid forced himself out of his bedroll, glanced at Aya, who was still sleeping soundly, and got up onto the rock where Maajin had been sitting. From there he could see the narrow path from where they had come from for a few feet before it turned sharply round a corner. Clutching his sword in one hand and his axe with the other, he pushed sleep out of his mind and concentrated on watching the road. He heard Maajin snore loudly beneath the rock; he had fallen asleep quickly, as if he had no care in the world.
The journey towards Vallahan had been long, and forever under the watchful eyes of Maajin and Navin, Villid and Aya hadn’t enjoyed each other’s company as they usually would have, except for secret, passionate kisses in the darkness when their
companions were sleeping. How he ached for her; but knowing she was nearby and safe was of great comfort to him.
He wondered to himself again why the mage had so willingly come along with them. Did he care about their quest? Did he believe them? Perhaps a Seer’s ghost had gone to him, too, and told him of the task ahead. But if he was working with Shavon…
Mical’s words echoed in his head,
“These cannot get into the hands of Shavon. You must keep them a secret.”
Did Maajin know about the scrolls, or was he simply aware of the quest? Could they trust him at all?
Villid’s body ached with tiredness; when he had tossed and turned in his bedroll it had felt as if sleep would never come, but now that he was watching for enemies, he had to fight to keep his eyes open.
Hours ticked by. Aya sometimes mumbled in her sleep, or turned over. Villid stared up at the night sky; the bright half-moon was between the cliffs up ahead, casting grey shadows all around him. Villid kept his ears pricked for unfriendly sounds, but all that greeted him was the occasional whistling of the breeze above them.
It wasn’t long before early signs of dawn approached. A sudden sound made Villid jump and clutch his axe, but it was just Maajin, getting to his feet, staff in hand and rubbing the bristles on his chin as he often did when he was in deep thought.
“I couldn’t sleep.” he said to Villid, scrambling on the rock beside him.
“Your snoring said otherwise.” Villid replied, smirking.
Maajin didn’t smile, but the corners of his mouth twitched slightly. “I can always turn you into a toad, Villid.” he said.
Villid leaned back against the cliff wall. “Another safe night,”he said quietly.
“Don’t let your guard down,” said Maajin. “Enemies can attack when you least expect it.”
They sat for a few moments. The inky black sky was starting to turn violet; it would still be a few hours before morning.
“You are quite taken by Aya, aren’t you?” Maajin asked.
“What do you mean?” said Villid, too quickly.
“Villid, I have seen many things in my time,” Maajin said. “Including a city full of different people of races, religions
and beliefs. And now I have seen everything – an
Elf and a Tyran, in love. Do not pretend it’s not true.”
Villid sighed. “Fine, I won’t deny it,” he said. “I’m in love with Aya. I know she’s an
Elf, and I’m a Tyran. Is it... wrong?”
Maajin raised a bushy grey eyebrow. “I honestly don’t know,” he said, sounding surprised at himself. “It is unusual, certainly. There are no tales of love across different races. Perhaps because this land has been divided for so long –
Elves and Knabi, Dwarves and mages, humans and Tyrans, they all keep to themselves, they barely have a chance to communicate, let alone mate.”
“What about Fort Valour?” Villid asked. “Surely there are inter-racial relationships there?”
Maajin looked up at the stars. “There is strange magic in Fort Valour,” Maajin explained. “Five mages made Fort Valour possible; sealing it off from the outside world, concealing its existence from outsiders.”
“And you are one of them, aren’t you?” Villid asked.
“Indeed,” said Maajin. “I agreed to help create such a city many years ago, in the Mage’s Fortress. Since then scattered peoples have joined Fort Valour and lived there in peace. It was the mages’ dream that one day Fort Valour would be introduced to the entire land, so that all could live peacefully, without wars or famine. But relationships across races...” Maajin frowned. “If it has happened, I am unaware of it. Perhaps the first to do it had the same
concerns as you – they feared they would be punished.”
“That makes sense,” said Villid.
“Aya is special to you,” Maajin said. “And I can see she also cares for you a great deal. But don’t let it get in the way of your quest.”
“I can handle it.” Villid said gruffly.
“If you say so,” Maajin replied. “But remember for now that you must gain the aid of the Knabi in battling the Darkma in the west. And to others, let her just be a companion, not a lover.”
“I had planned that anyway,” Villid said. “Maajin... should we tell Navin? About Aya and I?”
Maajin raised his eyebrows. “I think he already knows, don’t you?” he asked.
They stayed silent for a while. The wind in the mountains was starting to grow louder, and howl like a pack of hungry wolves in the night. Sleep had completely left Villid now; he felt himself watching Aya sleep more than watching the road, his affection for her growing more in his heart with each passing minute.
“You are an unusual Tyran.
” Maajin said softly, as the dawn slowly approached them, the sky turning a reddish-pink. Villid said nothing in response; he knew now that he was unlike the Tyrans at Xentar. He expected Maajin to continue, but the mage just sighed quietly, his tired eyes staring at the road.
‘
His motive seems to be defeating the Darkma
,’
Villid thought to himself.
‘
And he did save me from being beaten to death in that damned city. We’ll have to trust him for now.’
It wasn’t long before a quick movement in the shadows caught their eye. Villid instinctively gripped the handle of his axe. “What was that?” he whispered.
Maajin frowned. “We’re not alone.” he muttered.
They edged their way slowly down the rock they had been sitting on for the past few hours. Villid felt stiff and uncomfortable after so long of keeping watch, but he shook off the feeling in instinct. Slowly he held his sword and his axe in front of him.
He nodded to Maajin, who raised his long, black staff, holding himself against the cliff.
Another movement. Villid’s heart started to pound in anticipation. Were they bandits? Thieves? More Tyrans? Darkma?
They slowly approached the corner; the howling wind above them helped to muffle their footsteps. Villid saw a large, dark shadow on the opposite wall as he crept closer to the edge. Villid gripped his axe…
The figure suddenly lunged onto Villid and he was caught off-guard; his axe and sword skidded across the rock floor as something huge and heavy pinned him to the ground. He heard a distant shout and saw a flash of light; suddenly the figure was thrown off Villid and was lying on the ground, breathing hoarsely, winded.
“What do you think you’re doing?” he heard Maajin’s voice hiss somewhere above him. Coughing, Villid crawled for
his axe, before the large figure landed on top of him again.
“Don’t hit me with that, it’ll hurt!” said a familiar voice. Dust was in Villid’s eyes; he looked up…
“Morque?” Villid hissed, seeing the dark silhouette of the grumpy Knabi above him. “What are you… get off me!” Villid shoved him off aggressively. “What do you think you’re doing, sneaking up on us like that? We could have killed you!”
“Could have fooled me.” Morque snorted rudely. He looked like he’d been travelling for days; mud and dust stuck to his crudely-made black tunic and dirt clung to his beard. They got to their feet; Villid picked up his axe and hung it onto his back.
“Foolish lad. Could have gotten yourself killed,” Maajin muttered, lowering his staff.
Morque twisted and glanced at his huge dark grey wings, which twitched slightly. “You’ve bent my wing.”
Villid said nothing. Morque was not just dirty; he looked beaten. Bruises littered his face and his clothes were stained with fresh blood as well as dry.
“Were you following us?” Villid asked.
“Protecting you, more like.”
Morque grunted, adjusting his tunic slightly. They strolled slowly back to the camp where Aya stood. She ran towards them. “Are you all right?” she asked. “I heard fighting – oh!” she looked startled for a moment before composing herself. “Hello, Morque
.”
“I’ve been circling above you for the past week,” Morque said, ignoring Aya completely. “Night prowlers have tried to attack you twice, and a few Darkma were prowling around too.”
“Why were you following us?” Villid asked.
Morque glared at him. “Does it matter?” he snapped. “I’m here to help you. You need someone in the sky to navigate, for a start. The Knabi boy can’t fly yet, correct?”
They reached the camp. The sun was beginning to rise properly now. Navin was still sleeping soundly, lying on his stomach with his wings in the air. His wound had healed, and his feathers looked healthy, if a little dirty.
“It’s true we need eyes in the clouds,” Maajin muttered. “Morque, you are sure you wish to journey with us? The road won’t be short or pleasant.”
Morque gave a harsh, barking laugh. “You know my time in Fort Valour was anything but pleasant, Maajin.”