Unknown (30 page)

The man petted Acotas on his silk soft nose, and Villid watched in dismay. The stallion looked more than happy to stay with this man in this strange campsite, but he couldn’t leave without him. He just couldn’t.
Villid couldn’t decide what to do. He watched as the man slapped a human on the back. “I knew you were the right one for the job, Alex,” he said with a wide grin. “Where was he? Did you find the scumbag thieves who stole him?”
Alex was a tall human man with jet-black hair tied back into a bun and rather large eyes. He scratched his beard and frowned with his brushy brows.
“He was in that old ruined town, Noup,” Alex replied. “He looked as if someone had been taking care of him – but there wasn’t anybody around. It wasn’t the thieves, anyway. The old carriages were nowhere to be seen.”
Noup’s face fell. “So you didn’t find anything else?” he asked cautiously. “The carriage was gone?”
The woman nodded. She had pulled her hood back, revealing a shock of curly, auburn hair. She was very pretty, and wore a lot of dark make-up that seemed to highlight her striking blue eyes. “Only the horse remained,” she informed Noup. “I’m sorry. The scrolls and the supplies are lost, I believe.”
Noup nodded, and turned back to Acotas. “At least you found my horse,” he said with a small smile. “This calls for
some wine, at least. Won’t you join us, Tyran?”
Villid froze. He had been sure that he’d stayed well-hidden behind the tent, but Noup was suddenly looking straight at him. Reluctantly, and feeling rather foolish, Villid got up and joined the humans, and Acotas, near the larger, brightly-coloured carriage.
“Stay back!” the woman cried, brandishing a short dagger that she’d pulled from her hip.
“At ease, Red.” Noup rested a hand on her cloaked shoulder. She glared at Villid, and slowly put the dagger away.
“How did you find us?” she asked suspiciously.
“I followed you.” Villid replied.
“What do you want?” Alex asked.
“I’ve come for my horse.” said Villid stiffly.
Red gave a shout of laughter. “
Your
horse?” she scoffed. “Stealing doesn’t make you the owner, Tyran.”
Noup was watching the conversation with interest. Now and then, his dark eyes would flicker down to Villid’s belt for a moment, before raising again to look at his face.
“I didn’t steal him.” Villid snapped. “The thieves you were talking about had the carriage in the eastern forest. We…” Villid stopped himself. “I took the horse when I was chased by night prowlers. He’s been with me ever since. He…” Villid swallowed. “Please. I need him back. He’s the best horse I’ve ever had, and I need to get to the mountains as quickly as possible.”
“The thieves had the carriage?” Noup asked. “Where is it now?”
“Like I said, I was chased by night prowlers. The carriage was left behind.”
Noup frowned and walked over to Acotas. He patted the stallion’s long, black mane for a moment. “There were some very important things inside that carriage,” he said, without looking at Villid. “Was any of it recovered? Anything at all?”
Villid reached for his belt, where the bag of scrolls still sat. “If you’re talking about the Blood Scrolls…” he said opening the bag and pulling out one of the rolled up pieces of parchment, “I have them right here.”
Noup swivelled round and stared at the scrolls in disbelief. Red’s jaw had dropped open. Alex’s arms were folded, his bushy eyebrows raised in shock.
“What will you do for the scrolls?” Villid asked, his mind racing, heart thumping, and knowing that at least he had the advantage. “These are important to you, I can tell. ‘The Blood of the Fallen’ – isn’t that what you’ve been looking for?”
Noup looked slowly at Red, then to Alex. He turned and glanced at Acotas, then looked up at Villid, a mixture of disbelief and determination on his face. “For the scrolls,” he said softly. “What do you want? I offer anything.”
“The horse,” said Villid immediately. “The grey stallion, and the supplies tied to him.”
Red’s mouth was open again as her eyes darted between Noup and Villid. “But…” she began. Noup held up a hand. “The Blood scrolls are vital,” he said. He turned back to Acotas and looked at him. “You care for this horse?” he asked.
“A great deal,” Villid replied. “He’s a wonderful stallion.”
Villid was reluctant to give away the scrolls that Maajin had told him were so important, but he needed Acotas. He couldn’t read the scrolls anyway. And, for some reason, he felt that he could trust this Noup.
“Very well,” said Noup finally, and patted Acotas on his neck. “The horse for the scrolls.”
Acotas was given back to Villid, and Villid handed the bag of documents to Noup. Red quickly pulled out the scrolls, and her eyes grew wider as she opened them. “They’re all here,” she whispered.
Noup grabbed a few of the scrolls and scanned them quickly. Villid knew that it would be wise to leave now he had Acotas safely beside him, but curiosity took over. “What are you going to do with them?” he asked cautiously. Mical’s words echoed in his head,
“These cannot get into the hands of Shavon. You must keep them a secret.”
“These are the real scrolls,” Noup confirmed, and then did something that Villid didn’t expect at all – he dropped them to the ground. Red copied him, dropping the parchment she had been carrying onto the grass in front of Noup’s feet.
“My thanks for delivering these back to me, Tyran,” Noup said, looking down at the scrolls which lay scattered on the ground. “What’s your name?”
“Villid.” Villid replied in surprise.
“Villid,” Noup repeated. “Take care of my horse. Although I suppose he’s yours now.”
He suddenly pointed his hands at the pile of scrolls, and jets of fire burst from his fingertips. The parchment caught alight, and Villid jumped back in astonishment. “You’re a mage?” he asked in disbelief.
“Not anymore,” Noup smiled, his eyes full of sadness as the scrolls burned in front of him. “You’ve done a great thing today, Villid. For now, the Blood scrolls’ secret is safe. Take care of the stallion, won’t you?”
Bewildered and confused, Villid led Acotas back up the grassy hill and outside the cliff, leaving the odd camp and the ex-mage behind. He patted Acotas softly, glad to have the horse back. “So you belonged to a mage,” he murmured to him. “That’s why you’re so huge and powerful. Well, I’m glad to have you back. And…” he glanced back towards the hidden valley. “I’m even more glad that Noup burned the scrolls.”
He didn’t understand it, but something calmed within him. The scrolls were gone, along with the strange ‘Blood of the Fallen’ legend and the ties it held to him and Aya. As
he climbed onto the stallion, relief flooding through him, he even dared to smile.
“Onward to the mountains.” he said aloud, and urged the horse forward towards the north. No more distractions, no more interruptions, he decided. His quest was before him – to gain the trust and the promise from the people in the mountains for soldiers, and to rid the world of Darkma forever. He felt a new strength burn within him as he rode along the hills, hearing the familiar thunder of Acotas’ hooves on the grass. Now, he was living for the day when he could travel back to Vallahan where Aya waited for him, carrying his child. He knew that day would come soon. For now, he would travel north, and complete the quest that had been set before him. This he would do.

Far to the west, where the grass and trees disappeared and the earth was caked in rock and sand, a grand fortress stood high and proud, its windows blackened, the towers half-crumbled with age. On the highest tower stood two figures, overlooking the flat, dry land that stretched before them like a dried sea bed.
“My lord.” the first figure bowed low, a long traditional greeting that had once been polite, but was now reserved only for those of great importance.
The Darkma lord didn’t turn to face his servant, but continued to watch the dry lands before him. Here and there, the outlines of working men were scattered around the fortress. They were slaves of the Darkma, forced to harvest what little food the Red Lands could produce.
“Sir… it is time,” the servant grovelled. “It is done.”
The Darkma lord finally turned, his mouth curving into a smile. His grin wasn’t filled with warmth, but was a satisfied, bloodthirsty smirk. “Excellent,” he hissed; the word crept through his sharp, yellowed teeth and dry lips like the first winter breeze through a
dead forest. “Now, we attack.”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Poppy Reid was born in Wick, Scotland and has a degree in Linguistics and Japanese. As well as novels, she writes articles on HubPages about her time abroad. She has appeared on RedShift Radio in Crewe, England, and enjoys horse riding, running and travelling. She currently lives in Japan with her fiance.
 

UPCOMING NOVELS

Blood of the Innocent
Blood of the Avenged
Ophio