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The hut had been made from branches, but the Elves had used ripped clothing to create another layer. “I’m so glad I wasn’t the only one,” sighed Aya with relief. Villid put his arms around her and pulled her close to him. “So am I,
” he said honestly. Nightmares still haunted him to this day of Shade’s attack on the city. It gave him some relief that more
Elves had managed to escape and survive.
A torrent of rain fell that night, and although the trees and the hut provided decent shelter, water dripped through several holes in the hut. Villid held Aya close to him, keeping her warm. “I love you,” he murmured, kissing her softly on her neck.
“And I love you,” she whispered. Even as she spoke, she thought she could somehow feel the baby move inside her, and she shivered with guilt.
His hands moved over her body as he kissed her. “No, Villid,” said Aya weakly.
“No one can hear us above the rain,” he whispered reassuringly.
“It’s not that,” Aya said, feeling sick with fright.
“You’ve been on edge lately,” he said, slightly impatiently. “Are you all right?”
“Of course,” she said softly, and turned to stroke his cheek. She forced a smile. Villid half smiled too, and held her close all night.

Small as it was, the E
lf sanctuary proved to be comfortable and safe for the visitors. Aya was treated with care from all the
Elves, and Villid and Morque were treated with a mild neglect; parents often told their E
lf children not to stare, and they silently handed them food at mealtimes. Aya reassured the
E
lves that their companions were harmless, but it didn’t seem to convince them. Villid especially was ignored, only given attention to be given food or water. Villid tried not to mind, but he felt a stab of guilt whenever he let himself glance at the tired-looking
Elves.
“Can you fly?” an E
lf child asked Navin.
Navin jumped slightly, blushed and mumbled, “N-No, I can’t.”
“Why not?” asked the child. His large brown eyes gazed up at Navin with innocent interest.
“Enough now, Oull,” his mother, who was sitting beside the child, muttered. Villid looked up and saw that the child was staring at him. He shifted uncomfortably. Morque gave a grunt as he drank ale from a goblet, and no one could tell whether it was a cough or a chuckle.
“It’s about time you did learn, lad,” Morque said as he put down his drink. “Those wings will only weigh you down if you don’t learn to use them.”
Navin said nothing and Morque snorted impatiently and muttered something, gulping his ale down noisily again.
“You can keep watch tonight,” an Elf said to Villid. “If that is good?”
Villid nodded, feeling glad that he wasn’t being treated as someone invisible as he normally was. With a glance, he told Aya he wished for her to join him, and she slowly nodded.
The night was cold, as Aya and Villid huddled together on top of a tall tree. The sky was clear, the bright moon betraying any signs of enemies. Villid sat with his arm round Aya, glad for the rare time they could spend alone together. He had kept watch at night many times, and had no problem staying awake, but Aya lulled against him, her eyelids heavy, comforted by Villid’s strong arm wrapped round her back. But she couldn’t fully relax, with her dark secret growing stronger by the day. But when could ever be a good time to voice her worries? She looked up at his strong, determined face, his dark eyes forever scanning the mountains up ahead, looking for any sign of movement. If she was to tell him, right now, that she was expecting a baby, what would he do? Would he support her? Hold her and show her his full support, despite the inevitable dangers that would instantly swoop on them and their unborn child? Or would he leave, no longer interested in her and their journey, never to be seen again? Then what would she do? Aya struggled to push the thoughts out of her mind, and tried to enjoy the rare opportunities where she could lay on Villid, and feel comfortable doing so.
The night passed quickly, and without any dangers. Eventually the orange sun glistened on the horizon and Villid heaved a sigh of relief, looking down to smile at Aya and kiss her softly on the forehead. They watched the sun rise together, feeling more and more relaxed as the sky turned from inky black to a brilliant, clear blue without any sign of attack.
They climbed down the trees and back to where the sleeping E
lves lay in hammocks. Last night’s small fire had turned to ashes. The morning sunlight was seeping through the leaves, and yet the
Elves still slept, a peaceful atmosphere over the clearing.
Only two empty hammocks sat before them. Vi
llid frowned slightly. “Who’s
missing?” he asked. Before Aya could answer, he put a finger to his lips. “Do you hear that?”
Aya’s heart started to pound, but then she heard it too. Far-off shouting – not roars of shadow monsters or beasts, but…
“If I have to stare at you a second longer, I’ll go mad!” a familiar voice roared over the tired chirping of the morning birds. “It’s time you used those wings of yours, lad!”
Aya and Villid ran in the direction of the voices, through the trees and out the other side of the forest. Aya and Villid saw two winged figures running away from the forest. “It’s Morque,” said Aya in surprise. “And… is that Navin?”
The figures ran in large circles, their wings
flapping. “It’s
them all right.” said Villid, folding his arms and watching with interest.
“There’s no use sitting around like a human! You’re a Knabi, so act like one!” Morque shouted, loud enough for the entire valley to hear. “Jump in the air, put your weight into your wings, and
flap
! They’ll carry you upwards into the air. Flap, boy, flap!”
Villid and Aya scrambled to their feet. “He’s flapping!” Aya said, half-laughing. “Go on, Navin!”
Navin’s large wings spread around him and he flapped frantically, jumping into the air as he tried to achieve lift-off. Morque spread his own dark wings and pulled himself easily into the air. “Convert your weight to the wings,” he ordered, hovering several feet in the air. “You can do it.”
Navin seemed to hop frantically on the spot, his wings flapping quickly for a few moments before staggering backwards. “I can’t!” he cried desperately, almost tripping over himself.
“Yes you can!” Aya shouted, getting to her feet and waving manically, “Flap your wings!”
Villid looked at her in surprise, and then half-smiled to himself. “Yeah, you can do it,” he called. They watched eagerly as Navin gave another fierce flap, and rose several feet into the air.
“I’m… I’m flying!” he cried in delight, as his wings beat powerfully in the air. Morque grinned back down at him, and nodded in approval. “Well done, kid.” he said, and his face lit up into a rare smile.
Navin giggled with delight, and swept upwards into the sky. “I’m flying!” he sang, looking amazed with himself. “I’m…
I…” he suddenly lost beat and hurtled towards the ground, crash-landing in a shrubbery. “I’m okay!” he gasped, scrambling out of the plants, a huge grin on his face.
Aya began to laugh helplessly and Villid soon joined her. Morque glided towards them, and hovered in the air. “The kid made it.” he grinned.
“You know, I think that’s the first time I’ve seen you smile properly.” said Aya. Navin came bounding up to them, twigs and leaves in his hair, his face wet with happy tears. “Did you see me? I flew!”
The rest of the morning was spent with Navin boasting to anyone who would listen about his recent achievement, reliving the tale that was him learning to fly. Soon his story became so elaborate that he was boasting how he had encouraged Morque into the air, easily flapping his way into the air whilst Morque was left behind.
“Pipe down, now, kid.” Morque said, looking half-annoyed, half-amused, as they and the E
lves sat to a large meal. Villid and Aya slid thankfully into their hammocks afterwards for a late morning snooze; they could still hear Navin excitedly telling his tale to some of the younger
E
lves. Aya smiled to herself as her eyelids grew heavier. Things were somehow starting to feel normal again. For a few moments she enjoyed the happy buzz around her,
before exhaustion washed over her and she fell into a comfortable sleep.
It was mid-afternoon before Villid awoke. The clearing was quiet, with a few
Elves muttering to each other as they cleaned clothes in the stream, cooked, or sewed. He glanced over at Aya’s hammock, where she slumbered, her chest slowly moving up and down as she slept without a care in the world. He ached to hold her. He lay back down on his hammock for a few moments, looking at the trees above them, Aya’s slow, steady breathing casting a calm over him like a warm blanket. It wasn’t until he heard Acotas snort impatiently that he heaved himself from the hammock and went to feed the horses.
The day passed slowly. Navin spent his hours practising to fly, and by the time the sun set he was boasting about how perfect his technique had become. Aya awoke not long after Villid, giving Villid a sleepy smile that made him feel
as if his heart was melting in his chest.
“Another day without danger,”
said Rimm confidently, as the sweet smell of cooking filled their nostrils. Three of the older
Elves were sitting over a large pot big enough to feed an army.
“We’ll be leaving tomorrow.” said Villid. Rimm looked up. He glanced at Aya. “Both of you?” he asked.
Aya nodded. Then she frowned. “Did you…” she asked, “Did you expect me to stay?”
Rimm shifted uncomfortably. “Well, you are one of us,”
he said nervously. “And…” he swallowed.
“But you’re with us now, aren’t you, Aya?” said Navin, his eyes wide.
Aya gave Navin a reassuring smile, then shot Rimm an apologetic one. “I know we were due to be married in the village, Rimm,” she began, “but my place is not with you now.”
“Wait,” Villid interjected. “You two were to be married?”
Navin gasped. Aya looked
gingerly at Villid. “Well, yes.” she confessed.
Villid got to his feet. “Well, that’s great,” he said. “When were you planning on telling me this?”
“It hardly matters,” Aya said desperately. “We aren’t going to be married now.”
Villid glared at Rimm. “What’s it to you, anyway?” Rimm asked in surprise.
For a moment Villid looked as if he was going to punch Rimm. Instead he gave a scowl and turned towards the outskirts of the forest, and trudged away, his fists clenched. Aya watched him go, a tight feeling in her stomach. She couldn’t bare it if Villid was angry with her.
“Were you really going to marry Rimm, Aya?” Navin asked. Aya nodded slowly. “But it was never official,” she muttered, staring at the place where Villid had been moments earlier.
“Why does he care?” Rimm muttered. “Hey, it’s dinner time,” he added, as the older
Elves started serving bowls of food and passing them round the group. “Let’s eat.”
Villid didn’t return for several hours, and missed
dinner. “I’ll go look for him.
” said Aya, getting up.
“You’ll do no such thing,” Rimm said, taking her by the wrist and encouraging her to sit back down. “You might get lost. He’ll come back when he’s ready, I’m sure.”
By the time Morque had flown to the top of the forest to keep the night watch, Aya was frantic. “Is he coming back?” she asked Navin desperately. Navin shrugged sadly and Aya hugged herself.
“Try and get some sleep,” said Rimm from a hammock a few trees away. “He’s a Tyran. As far as I’ve seen they can look after themselves.”

Villid sat at the edge of the forest, rubbing his cold arms, looking up at the darkening sky and scowling. It had never once occurred to him that Aya may have been with someone else before they had met. He wasn’t sure why the fact that Aya and Rimm were to be married had bothered him so much. Marriage wasn’t something he saw in Tyran society, for it had never been introduced to their culture. What he had seen and heard about marriage, however, is that it was some sort of spiritual bond that made two people belong to each other forever. Something he wanted with Aya.
But now it turned out she had chosen Rimm, before their village had been attacked. Did she love him? Surely she didn’t, otherwise she wouldn’t have told Villid that she
loved him… unless she had thought Rimm was dead, along the countless others she had lost? And what now, after they had been reunited?
Villid sighed deeply, and leant against a tree. The insects of the night had already started buzzing, and he knew he should return to the camp, but his own stubbornness kept him standing at the edge of the trees, half-hidden in the shadows. Had Aya only refused to join Rimm and the other
Elves because she felt obliged to join them in their quest for allies? Villid knew in his heart he couldn’t say no to Aya if she truly wished to stay; he would do anything to make her happy. Well, now he knew, and he couldn’t forget about it. He might as well just ask her outright.

It was when Villid turned back towards the trees that a terrified scream rang out into the night. Villid felt his blood run cold as he froze, fear flooding through him. Another scream rang out, more loud and desperate than the first, and Villid pushed his way into the trees, his heart thundering inside his chest.
Elves were screaming, people were tumbling out of their hammocks, and a few Elf men were wielding daggers, or branches if they didn’t have a weapon.
Villid stopped dead in his tracks. Ugly, short creatures dressed in black armour with scabby, burnt-looking skin, red eyes and sharp, yellowish fangs had entered the forest, brandishing crudely-made weapons. Here… of all places… they had finally been found. The Darkma were here.
Hammocks were ripped, pots were smashed; women held screaming children as they hid behind trees. Morque was just ahead of Villid, clutching a short, rusty sword. “Come on!” he suddenly yelled, and the Darkma dived at him; they snarled as they battled Morque, who swung his weapon skilfully in combat. Some Elf men and a few young women bravely went to join him holding weapons of their own, whilst children and older Elves cowered behind trees. For a split moment, Villid’s memory rushed back to the night that the Tyrans attacked the Elven
village. Well this time, he wouldn’t let any Elves die. He viciously slammed
himself against an approaching Darkma, and heard a crack as it gave a shriek and slumped against a nearby tree. He reached for his weapons that hung on his back and another that had lost its weapon jumped at him, scratching his face with its long claws. With a shout he swept his sword vertically, chopping the creature in half; gold blood burst from the middle of it and landed on nearby leaves and twigs, which instantly blackened and shrivelled up. Several splashes landed on Villid’s tunic; it started to burn through the material. He quickly ripped it off and threw it to the ground.
“Stay back!” he shouted instinctively, throwing his arm out and beckoning the Elves to stay behind him. Morque appeared beside him. “Nice to have you back.” he growled.
More Darkma were appearing from the trees. Three went for Villid and he swung his axe and sword, feeling the familiar rush of adrenaline course through him as blade hit flesh; the creatures filled the forest with eerie screams as Morque and Villid fought them; whenever any of them tried to bypass them they cut them down in their tracks. One jumped onto Villid’s back and sunk its teeth into his shoulder – he gave a yell of pain and ripped it from him, slamming it to the ground and burying his sword into its chest.
It was after thirty or so of the monsters had attacked that the wave finally stopped. “Is everyone all right?” Morque asked, turning to the cowering Elves; the responses
were several scared nods. “I’ll check if the coast is clear.”
he added, slapping Villid on the back before climbing up a nearby tree. Villid kept still, listening for more sounds of the creatures, but all was still.
“I thought it was safe here,” Rimm said worriedly, emerging from a nearby tree. “Why didn’t the guards cut them down?”
“We did,” said a voice, and Villid raised his weapons again, but it was just more Elves, pushing through the leaves. “We saw the Darkma from not far off, a fairly small group, but Darkma all the same. They didn’t seem to have come here especially – we think they found us by accident.”
“That’s reassuring,” said Rimm. “So they didn’t attack us intentionally?”
The Elf shook his head. “We doubt it,” he said. “But once they saw us, they all came. We killed some before they reached the forest, but some of them managed to bypass us. I see they’ve been taken care of.” he added, nodding towards the pile of bodies and the pools of golden blood that burned everything it touched.
“Even so, perhaps we should relocate,” said Rimm. “A cave, or an abandoned building, perhaps. We were lucky this time – we managed to dispatch them. Thank you for helping us, friend.” he added, holding out his hand to Villid so that he could shake it.
“Helping you?” Villid said tonelessly, not taking
Rimm’s hand. “Morque and I were the only ones to defend you. I
didn’t see you pick up a sword.”
For a moment Rimm stood there dumbly, his hand stiff as he held it up for a handshake. Then he let his arm swing to his side, and gave a nervous laugh.
“Villid!”
Villid swung round; the voice had come from Navin, and it sounded desperate.
“Villid, it’s Aya,” Navin said from behind some of the crouching Elves. “What is it?” Villid said quickly, as the Elves moved out of his way.
Aya had been hurt. She was slumped against a tree, her eyes closed, a bright splash of gold around her leg. A dead Darkma lay not far from her. Villid kicked it aside and crouched next to her. “Aya,” he whispered, cupping her face in his hands. “What happened?” he demanded.
“A monster attacked Aya,” said Navin, his voice unnaturally high, as if he was fighting back tears. “She fell back and hit her head on the tree. I killed it with her dagger and some of the blood hit her leg.”
Her right leg looked as if the skin had been burnt away, exposing blackened flesh and blood underneath. Villid scooped Aya up into his arms. “We’re leaving.”
he said shortly. A numb, cold fear was creeping up into his chest.
“What do you mean?” Rimm said, looking startled.
“We’re going to Vallahan. Now. Where are the horses?” Villid asked. They found the white stallion, the mare and Acotas behind some trees several feet away; they looked
scared but unharmed. Acotas gave a quiet snort when he saw Villid, and butted him on the shoulder, as if he knew something was wrong.
“You can’t leave now,” said Rimm desperately as Villid gently laid Aya onto Acotas before climbing onto the stallion himself.
“Yes I can.”
said Villid firmly. “She needs medical care right now. We can’t stay here. Morque,” he added, “You said Vallahan has good nurses and health care, right?”
“The best in the land, so I’ve heard.” Morque nodded.
“Navin.”
barked Villid, and Navin jumped to his feet. Villid turned away from the Elves, closing his eyes and telling himself to stay calm. Navin got onto the mare, his face pale with fright. “Is she going to be all right?” he asked.
“I hope so,” Villid whispered, laying his hand gently on Aya’s head. A small patch of blood appeared on his hand; it was in her black hair, making him grip
Acotas’ reins to stop himself from shouting out in anger.
“But where will we go?” Rimm asked.
“Are you blind?” Villid burst out before he could stop himself. “Aya is hurt. She’s my priority. I don’t know where you can go, and I don’t care. And by the way -” he leaned in to Rimm. “We’re quits now. I slaughtered the Darkma where you would have let your people die. We’re equal.” And with that, he hit his heels against Acotas’ sides, and the horse moved forward through the trees, Morque
and Navin right behind him.
Guilt pounded through his veins as he held Aya close to him. How could he have left her? If he’d been there instead of leaving, he would have been able to prevent this. The only thing that reassured him slightly was the sound of Aya’s breathing; surely she was just knocked out, she’d wake up any second…
They emerged from the trees and Villid slapped the horse; it immediately broke into a canter and then a gallop. This side of the forest was much flatter, and a wide path was ahead. The weather was cold but dry; Villid kept his eyes fixed ahead, and quickly wrapped a small blanket around Aya’s body that he pulled from a bag.
“How much further until Vallahan?” Villid shouted over the wind.
“Not far,” Morque yelled back. “You see that tall mountain a few miles ahead?” Villid looked; it was unmistakably blacker than the rest of the smaller hills; they could get there in several minutes. “The gate is at the foot of the mountain.”
The path sloped downwards and a lake lay on the right. He could clearly see a grassy path that the horses would easily be able to gallop on. He urged Acotas forwards, glancing back to check that Navin was still behind them. Navin clumsily rode the mare not far behind, forever casting glances to the unconscious Aya. Villid felt a rush of gratitude for the young Knabi. The Elves in the forest had
been defenceless, and even Rimm hadn’t attempted to fight, but Navin had protected Aya as best he could.
They rode down the hill and towards the tall mountain, which seemed more like a tower than a hill. “Almost there, Aya,” Villid whispered, silently begging her to wake up and smile at him. But her eyes remained half-shut, her body limp. Villid kept his arm around her, his hand against her heart, which kept beating steadily.
Villid suddenly heard a screech from above him, and the horse suddenly skidded to the left with a frightened snort. Aya almost slid from the horse; he only just grabbed her and held her to him. “What the…?”
A mixed group of Darkma and night prowlers had approached them from all directions; they seemed to suddenly swarm from the hills and bushes and gallop towards them. The large, wolf-like creatures ran on four legs like animals, racing as fast as the horses, snorting and snarling, pounding the ground with their blackened feet or paws. Others ran, dressed in the sharp, dark armour, with blackened skin, the devilish eyes, and undoubtedly, the poisonous, shimmering gold blood.
“It was a trap!” Morque shouted over the cries of the crowd of Darkma that were running after them. “They knew we’d leave the forest!”
The night prowlers had almost caught up to them; Villid urged Acotas to gallop faster and the horse sped up on his powerful legs – they were drawing closer to the gate, the
cold wind rushing past them, the stallion panting as it galloped along at full speed, the monsters charging behind. A few of the night prowlers had caught up to the stallion on their fast, blackened paws, snapping at Acotas’ legs and barking like wild dogs.
He heard the sound of a horse in pain behind him but didn’t dare look back; praying his companions were safe, he galloped hard across the path. A Darkma suddenly threw itself onto Villid’s leg and he let out a shout of pain, holding onto Aya all he could – the creature dragged several bags of supplies from the horse and they fell to the ground with a smash. He glanced down and saw it had left a long scratch in Acotas’ side, but the horse galloped on.
They were coming near the gate. “Villid!” he suddenly heard Morque yell from above him; Morque and Navin had both left their horses and were flying in the sky at top speed. “Give Aya to me,” Morque shouted. “I can get over the gate and get her into the city.
Navin and I will make sure she’s safe.”
Villid hesitated; the creatures were getting closer, and Acotas was hurt and running out of strength. “All right!” Villid yelled back. “I’ll distract them.”
Morque swiped at the Darkma following Villid, hitting two with his blunt sword. He quickly and gently took Aya from Villid’s arms and into his. “Be careful with her,” Villid couldn’t help saying. Morque nodded and sped upwards into the sky with the Elf girl in his powerful arms, away
from the monsters and over the gate ahead. Acotas, now without the extra weight, galloped faster than ever. Villid unsheathed his weapons and tried to reach the creatures as they approached, and they snarled, backing away just in time before his blade could reach them.
The tall mountain was approaching, and grand stone steps led up to a large gate with tall stone walls either side of them. The huge gate was slowly starting to open. ‘
I can’t let the Darkma enter Vallahan
.’
Villid thought to himself, and waited for his moment. They thundered towards the opening gate, the Darkma a little way behind, and the tall door was almost wide open enough for them to gallop through.
Villid jumped from the horse and Acotas galloped up the steps and through the gate; there were seven or eight of the foul creatures still pursuing them. Villid held his weapons steady, feet wide apart, ready to block any oncoming
attacks
. The Darkma surrounded him, moving slowly, their cold eyes fixed on him as if savouring a tasty meal. Some were short, some were taller, all with the cursed reddish-black skin, as if burnt. They growled, long, yellow teeth dripping saliva as they glared at him with their red eyes. Night prowlers barked and lurked at the Darkma’s legs like guard dogs. Villid watched them all, filling his gaze with anger and hatred. His heart pummelled with adrenaline as he could feel an attack coming any second now; he let himself fill up with the familiar sensation of bloodthirsty
battle, the ecstasy of blood and death at his fingertips…
The monster on the left attacked first, a crazed movement with a short bronze sword, heading straight for Villid’s eyes. Villid ducked and the rest attacked; he felt teeth and claws rip at him until he swept his blade through three with one huge swipe, and slammed his axe hard on another one’s head with a satisfying crack. The spray of shimmering golden blood that landed in droplets on his skin only added to the ecstasy of battle; screaming with a ferocious bloody cry he swept his weapons around him, feeling blade pierce flesh and the shrieking of the Darkma as his weapons sliced through them like jelly. It brought him satisfaction as he heard the bodies hit the floor, grotesque creatures from hell falling at his feet. Crossing his weapons and swiping them sideways, blocking whenever he saw a sword or snout, slaughtering every creature that came near him, he felt a frenzy of insane pleasure and triumph.
It wasn’t until several bloody corpses and twitching, half-dead Darkma lay at his feet that he lowered his weapons and sprinted towards the tall stone door of Vallahan. Morque and Navin waited for him, holding the gate open and beckoning him inside. Villid jumped through the gate and fell to his knees; the pain of it all finally sinking in. He could barely breathe, his good eye felt bloody, and burning stings were springing up all over his body. “Aya,” he managed to choke, dropping his weapons with a clatter.
“Hey, careful.” said an unfamiliar voice, and a strong arm hauled him back to his feet.
“Aya,” said Villid, his voice stronger. “Where’s… Aya?”
“She’s safe,” said Morque, and he felt a strong hand pat his shoulder. “She’s resting in the medic. So should you, by the looks of it.”