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Villid didn’t hear the last part of the sentence; the news that his Aya was safe was enough to stem the pain in his body. His vision became clear, his urge to vomit had passed, and he felt a sense of triumph at his newest battle mingled with worry.
“I want to see her.” he said. His voice didn’t sound like his own, but for that moment, he didn’t care.
“Not yet,” said someone; that someone was a Knabi, although a lot different to Morque. He was tall and very slim, his features sharp, grey wings tucked into a red and gold poncho. “She’s resting, but she’s in a stable condition.”
To Villid’s protest, Morque and the Knabi man made Villid head into a nearby tent, where he was to sit on a comfy chair with a hot drink and several bandages wrapped around him. “You’re not afraid of me?” Villid couldn’t stop himself from asking, as several Knabi ladies tended to his wounds.
“Not at all. The Knabi do trade with other species of the world, you know,” said the Knabi in the poncho. His wrinkled face never smiled, but he seemed to have a calming allure to him. “I’m sorry, I never introduced myself. My name is Lyons. I help guard the city gates. I’m
very impressed with the way you fought the Darkma. That should be expected, of course, from a Tyran, but you fought incredibly even for a warrior. You have my respect, and you are welcome here.”
Villid gave a tired nod, too exhausted to bother with manners. “Navin. Where’s Navin?” Villid asked.
“He’s fine,” Morque said, looking as if he was going to slap Villid on the back, but then thought the better of it. “He hasn’t stopped crying since we got here though. Ah, speak of the devil.”
Navin came in, looking unharmed but upset. “Villid,” he said, giving a shocked hiccup. “Are you all right?”
“It’s nothing,” Villid muttered, wondering if his wounds were worse than they felt. Two Knabi women were dabbing at the scars on his legs and torso, the other wrapping a fresh bandage around his eye. He wasn’t used to this kind of fuss, but he felt he couldn’t be rude to the kind Knabi nurses tending to him. “Have you seen Aya?”
“Yes,” said Navin, “They took her to the medic earlier. Morque was great. He made sure she got seen to as soon as we arrived.”
A young Knabi girl suddenly walked into the tent. She looked to be around eighteen or nineteen. Her auburn hair was in a roughly plaited knot, and she wore a slightly scruffy dark green tunic. At first she looked as if she didn’t quite know why she was there. She glanced at Villid, and didn’t respond except her eyes grew slightly wider. Her
gaze travelled over to Chief Lyons, before resting on Navin, where her jaw dropped open.
“Oh no,” said Navin.
“You!” the girl suddenly shrieked, and ran at Navin, taking him by the shoulders and shaking him hard. “You! It’s really you! You’re back!” she gave a huge grin, followed by a tinkling laugh, and hugged Navin fiercely in a lock that looked as if it would almost strangle him. Then she suddenly pushed him away from her. “How could you leave us?” she screamed.
“Yanil, please!” said Lyons, looking embarrassed. “This is a medical centre. Keep your voice down.”
Yanil let out a sound like an angry cat, glared at Navin, and started dragging him by the scruff of his neck towards the entrance. “You’re so going to pay for this!” she hissed at him.
“Thanks.” he said briefly to the Knabi women, who looked at each other and giggled. Ignoring them, he followed Navin and Yanil outside
. Morque had been sitting outside the tent, but had risen to his feet at Yanil’s appearance.
The young girl was shaking poor Navin violently. “What’s going on?” Villid asked. “Navin, who is this?”
Navin looked embarrassed. Yanil’s hands still clutching his tunic, he turned to look at Villid and mumbled something inaudible.
“What?” said Morque, raising an eyebrow.
“Yes, Navin, speak up, they can’t hear you!” the girl jeered.
“She’s…” Navin swallowed. “She’s my sister.”
“Oh,” Villid and Morque looked at the young woman, who’s expression changed from angry to relaxed.
“I… didn’t know you had a sister.” said Villid honestly. Yanil glared at Navin again.
“So you didn’t tell anyone about me!” she snapped. Navin mumbled something again. “First you fail the flying test, and then you ran away…”
“But he was ran out of Vallahan,” Villid interjected. “For failing. Isn’t that right?”
“Now you mention it,” said Morque, suddenly frowning. “If you were banished from the place, why did you come in? Why has no one tried to chase you off?”
Navin looked trapped. Three pairs of eyes on him, he stared at his own feet. “I wasn’t banished,” he mumbled. “I – I didn’t come back. I was scared of what everyone would think, so I left. I thought they were better off thinking I was dead than knowing I’d failed. I’m sorry, Yanil,” he added, turning a sorry look to his sister. “I shouldn’t have run away.”
“I can’t believe you’re alive,” she answered, suddenly calm. She patted him on the shoulder and gave him a crooked smile. “Why did you run away?”
“Father,” said Navin simply, sighing. “I knew he’d be ashamed of me.”
“So you lied to us and said you’d been exiled from Vallahan?” Villid said angrily. “How could you leave your
own people and lie about it? Do you even know what it’s like to be exiled?”
Before anyone could say anything else a female Knabi came out of one of the surrounding tents, dressed in a simple white frock, her pale wings tucked neatly into her back. “Villid, is it?” she asked in a gentle voice, her large grey eyes moving over his chest, to the bandage covering his eye, before meeting his good eye. Villid’s anger subsided instantly. “Is Aya all right?” he asked immediately.
“Yes,” the Knabi nurse smiled. “She’s completely fine. She’s awake now, if you want to see her.”
“Thank you.” said Villid gratefully, relief flooding through him, and he turned to go.
“And one more thing,” the nurse smiled at him. “The baby is fine, too.”

There was a stunned silence. Villid wasn’t sure if he had heard correctly. “What?” he asked, turning slowly to face the nurse.
“The baby,” she repeated. “It’s going to be fine – it didn’t get hurt in the fall. She should count herself lucky, given what she’s been through.”
Morque and Navin both stared at Villid, who stood dumbstruck. Eventually he realised the nurse was still looking at him curiously, and gave her a stiff nod, before turning and heading towards Aya’s tent.
He couldn’t believe what he was hearing, and yet… something was stirring inside his mind. How could he have not noticed? She’d been sick, pale, unusually quiet… how long had she known? Had she been too afraid to tell Villid?
“You’re…” he stopped in front of the tent
and spoke to the nurse.
“You’re… entirely sure she’s pregnant?”
“Of course,” the nurse replied, “For one thing, the first thing she did when she woke up was ask about her baby.”
Navin’s jaw had dropped open, Morque stood with his arms folded and his eyebrows raised. “A baby?” Navin repeated, looking slowly at Villid, then to Morque.
Villid could think of nothing to say, so he edged into the tent, thousands of emotions hitting him at once. The inside of the tent was warm and sweet-smelling and Aya
was tucked into a clean white bedroll, her tired eyes half-closed and her cheeks rosy-red. Villid was filled with relief and love as he saw her face. She gave Villid a nervous smile when he came into the tent.
“Are you all right?” he asked, kneeling next to the bed and placing his hand on hers. Aya nodded slowly. “Villid,” she whispered, and a tear rolled down her cheek.
“Hey,” he said softly, cupping her face into his hands and looking at her. “The nurse… she told me. She told me you’re expecting a baby. Why didn’t you tell me?”
Another tear fell down Aya’s face and onto the pillow. “Aren’t you angry?” she whispered.
“Of course not,” Villid said, and he meant it. The last thing he felt was anger – he wasn’t sure if he could ever feel any anger towards her again.
“There was never a good time to tell you,” Aya said, looking away. “I’m scared, Villid.”
“Aya,” said Navin, coming into the tent. “You’re okay,” he added, looking relieved.
Aya sniffed and nodded. “Where are we?” she asked.
“Vallahan.” Villid replied.
“We made it?” Aya said, sitting up.
“Yeah, when you fainted Villid got you onto Acotas, and me and Morque followed,” said Navin.
“What about the others?”
“Morque’s here too.”
“What about Rimm and everyone else?”
Villid and Navin glanced at each other. Navin gave a nervous shrug.
“I’m sure they’re all right,” said Villid eventually. “I killed most of the Darkma that attacked the forest…”
Aya lay back on her pillow, worry filling up her face. “I’m sure they’re fine,” Villid muttered lamely. In truth, he had been so worried about Aya and determined to get her to safety that the welfare of the other Elves had completely slipped his mind.
“The Darkma followed us,” said Navin encouragingly. “They didn’t seem interested in the forest. We got you here and then Villid killed all the ones that were left. He was really cool.”
Aya gave a tired smile. “I’m going to get some rest,” she whispered. Villid nodded and kissed her forehead. “I’ll be back later.” he promised, and gestured for Navin to follow him out of the tent.
Navin’s sister greeted them. “So she’s having a baby?” she asked, her hands on her hips. “With who? Did she have an Elf husband before the village was taken over?”
Villid shifted uncomfortably. He had no doubt in his mind that the child Aya carried was his – they had been together for months now, far too long for the father to have been an Elf in the forest village. Without answering her he brushed past the Knabi girl and made his way along the road. Navin followed at his heels, almost having to run to keep up with Villid’s long strides. “Where are we going?” he
asked nervously.
“To the chief, or lord, or whoever runs this town,” Villid replied, a new strength filling him now he knew that Aya was going to be all right. “Now I know Aya is okay, we can get on with the task.”
“Stop!” Yanil shouted, running after them. “Navin – don’t just walk away from me!”
“You go ahead,” Navin sighed. “I’ll catch up later.”
The Knabi in red robes, Lyons, stopped Villid as he strode past the tents. “If you are going to see our Chieftain, you might want to change,” he suggested politely. Villid glanced down at his ripped and stained tunic, which was dirty with muck and burnt where droplets of the Darkma’s blood had landed on the material.
“You are asking for soldiers, after all.”
Lyons pointed out, and gave a smile which looked almost forced. Before Villid could reply, Lyons pointed him to one of the tents, informing him that his bags had been moved there.
Villid grunted and shoved past him. It felt like the task ahead would take a lifetime with countless interruptions like this.
Inside the tent, a bowl of water and a bedroll awaited him. Tiredness washed over him, as he eyed the new, clean sheets, but there was no time to rest. Villid washed himself and winced slightly as the warm water ran over the burns and cuts on his skin; he hadn’t realised how many small injuries he’d sustained from the battle. He wrapped new
bandages over the worst of them and put on a fresh tunic. He hung his belt of daggers and weapons on his back, and folded the map, documents and scrolls into his tunic pockets before leaving the tent. It was time to visit the Chieftain.
A few of the Knabi nurses and guards glanced at Villid as he walked along, but didn’t seem afraid. This surprised him slightly; he thought that he would be treated the same way as he had by the Elves in the forest. He glanced over at Aya’s tent as he passed it. Navin was sitting outside it as if on guard, looking helpless as his sister, Yanil, chattered endlessly to him. Villid gave Navin a small wave and quickly strode on before Yanil could look up.
The row of guard and medical tents soon ended as he ventured further into Vallahan. He came to tall houses built of stone, some as tall as the towers in Fort Valour. Villid now understood what Navin meant – the Fort Valour version of a Knabi town was smaller, more crowded, and less grand, somehow, than this city. Vallahan’s houses became bigger and more impressive the further he walked. At times, he could see grand mountains on the horizon, some even taller than the hills of Xentar. Was one of those mountains where they sent the Knabi youth to either success or death in the Flying Test?
Villid felt another pang of anger mingled with sympathy for Navin – how he had abandoned all that he knew because he was too afraid to go back to his family.
‘Coward,’
he thought. The closest thing Villid had had to a father was the Seer, and Swift as a brother. He had failed many times at the academy, fallen behind in classes and sometimes even lost at the arena, and yet he had always returned to his tribe to train and fight. Still, it was also true that Villid hadn’t returned to Xentar since Shade had framed him for killing the Seer. Did that mean he was as much of a coward as Navin?
Villid was lost in thought, and wandered through the bustling city, not entirely sure where he was going. The buildings around him were built with wood, painted in bright shades of red and orange. They were built with overlapping roofs and tiles, with sliding doors and high towers with long windows. They were different to anything Villid had seen before.
Many Knabi walked along, their wings tucked into their backs and their straight, sharp features unsmiling and serious. Some flew, their huge wingspans catching shadows on the streets. Villid was at least a head taller than anybody else and filtered easily through the crowd, where incense burned and wind chimes hanging from doors and windows jingled in the light breeze. It was a pleasant morning, and tired as Villid was, he enjoyed the walk through the town. He passed some food stalls selling varieties of nuts, fruits and herbs, their owners watching them silently and politely – completely different to the shopkeepers at Fort Valour, Villid mused. The latter were
noisy, and would flatter and lie to sell anything. It was a refreshing change.
The city started to thin out and Villid wondered if he was coming to some sort of border. The wind had picked up and he smelt something in the air; something he recognised, but hadn’t smelt in a long time.
The breeze blew in his hair as he approached a fence that stood ahead. Now and then a Knabi would spread their great, feathery wings and take off over the fence – or fly over it and land smoothly on the grass nearby. The smell was getting stronger. It wasn’t until Villid had reached the fence and saw the raging, cold black sea that he realised that the smell was of salt. It roared below, spraying salty mist onto the cliffs.
Villid couldn’t see very far across the ocean because an ice-cold fog hung over the horizon. Tall, cliff-like islands protruded from the sea here and there, some joined by bridges, some not. Villid peered down at the sea for a moment, and saw that the islands were actually floating; hanging in the air and joined by old bridges, separate neighbourhoods from the mainland of the city. Villid could see countless Knabi across the sky, flying from island to island, or flying towards the mainland. Again, the Knabi didn’t seem unnerved by Villid’s presence as the Elves had in the forest; some even nodded or smiled politely as they passed.
It really was a beautiful place to live, Villid mused. “If you
had wings,” he muttered out loud. A few Knabi children glanced at him before giggling to themselves. They reminded Villid of Aya’s baby. He sighed and closed his eyes, relishing in the cold sea breeze before steeling himself.
“Sir Villid,” said a deep voice. Villid turned from the fence. It was two Knabi soldiers wearing handsome red cloaks, their snow-white wings tucked into their back, carrying thin staffs, and their sharp faces serious. “The Chieftain of Vallahan is waiting to see you. Will you come with us?”
Villid had no idea where the Chieftain lived, so he accepted the offer as gracefully as he could. He regretted that he knew virtually nothing about Knabi culture, and didn’t know
if anything he did or said was considered impolite or not. He followed them silently north, past some of the grander, taller buildings.
“Some of Vallahan’s villages are on land, and some are on small islands over the sea, like the one you saw,”
the other guard explained to him as they walked. Villid felt rather large and heavy-looking in comparison to the slim and well-kempt Knabi people, who walked and flew with grace; their robes and tunics seemed spotlessly clean. It was a whole different universe to Xentar.
A girl suddenly came bounding up to them – it was Yanil, Navin’s sister. Villid only just managed to hold back
a groan. How had she found him? “Hello,” she said to Villid, walking uncomfortably close to him. “Where are you going?”
“Villid is visiting the Chieftain,” one of the guards replied to her. As the guards walked, Knabi filtered out of the way to let them pass. “Be on your way, miss, if you will.”
“Why?” Yanil pressed. “Hardly anyone gets to see the Chieftain.”
Villid ignored her and followed the guards along the pretty street and towards tall stone steps leading up to an archway. Colourful flowers covered the arch, and stone statues spouting water stood at either side of it. Beyond the steps were the doors to a grand orange-red palace. Yanil disappeared as Villid and the guards started to ascend the steps up to the Chieftain’s home. Every few steps, two guards stood, and bowed low as they approached. Villid felt rather shabby and dirty as he passed the well-dressed Knabi. Their red cloaks were laced with gold in an intricate curled pattern. They didn’t move except to bow, standing upright and holding their staffs, before guarding the palace again with their small, stern eyes.
The stairs ascended onto clean marble. More guards greeted them, unsmiling, the guards that had taken Villid this far gave a polite bow. “Good luck, Villid. This is as far as we can go.”
said the bearded guard. They turned and descended the
stairs, marching in perfect unison.
Villid entered the palace; the inside was a large room, golden pillars standing high either side
. The floor was a shimmering white, and a guard stood at each of the six pillars. The Chieftain sat at the far end of the room in a
grand chair that was carved from polished wood. His dark grey beard was short and neat, his old eyes stern and strong; he was dressed in magnificent silver robes that flowed onto the floor and he sat with a slightly bored expression, his chin resting on his ringed hand, but when he caught sight of Villid he quickly straightened up, swiping imaginary dust from his robes and settling his hands smartly on the arms of the large chair. “Welcome,” he said; his voice was higher than Villid expected. One of his piercing blue eyes was slightly unfocused; it was as if one eye was looking at the nearby pillar, whilst the other was fixed on Villid’s face.
“What is your name?” asked the Chieftain.
“I am Villid.” Villid bowed in a way he hoped looked respectful.
“You’re a Tyran?”
Villid nodded. “I’ve come for your help,” he began.
A pale hand stopped him, and a woman seemed to creep out of the shadows. She was dressed in glittery pearl-grey robes not dissimilar from the Chieftain’s, her long blonde hair rippled past her shoulders and each of her slender fingers wore a diamond ring. She seemed to look more like an angel than a Knabi. At her presence, the surrounding guards bowed; the nearest stood on one knee and lowered their heads.
“This is my daughter, the Knabi Seer,” said the Chieftain lazily, fingering his beard as if bored.
“It’s good to meet you, Villid,” smiled the woman. She stepped out of the apparent darkness and stepped ahead of the Chieftain towards Villid. Up close, she wasn’t as beautiful as Villid had first thought. Her face was rather round, her nose flat, and her robes slightly tight on her large chest. She looked very glamorous, but not altogether pretty.
“You don’t need to explain why you are here,” said the Seer kindly. “My name is Perra. You were sent here by your Seer and the Dragons, correct?”
Villid was slightly taken aback. “That’s right,” he said in surprise.