FicWad

Arandur (Steward) - Are . Ahn. Dur
Caladwen (Light) - Kah . Lahn . When
Castien (Tender) - Kah . Stee . En
Dramorian (Explosive) - Dra . More . Ee . An
Landion (Broad) - Lahn . Dee . On
Thalion (Hero) - Thal . Ee . On
Therredale [Caladwen’s Village] - Ther . Ah . Dal


~001~

It wasn’t seemly for a young woman to be slinking around in the dark, but neither was it seemly to be seen sitting among men as they discussed matters of the Kingdom. Not even her own dear brother had stood for her, ushering her, instead, towards the kitchen and her room beyond. His actions only stood to prove that he thought her senses too delicate for such talk. The men of society might determine that her slinking was unseemly, but the women would agree that assuming their gender weak and unsensible was the worse of the two transgressions. She would not be denied forgiveness for her actions, no matter how bold they were determined to be, and this only guided her footsteps with assurance as she carefully lifted herself up into the rafters of her Father’s modest home. Designed with an open roof, she could easily slip into the den without gathering attention.

When the home had been built, Castien had chosen a location a good distance outside the small village of Therradale in order to give his family the ability to be both a part of and separate from village life. In his attempt to fend off the temptations of the public, he had inadvertently offered the village a place to discuss matters of importance away from prying eyes and the attuned ears of those not welcome - minus, of course, Caladwen. She, as her Father was well aware, had a curiosity that could not be contained on the best of days, let alone when there was important matters to be discussed.

It was bothersome to climb amongst the rafters, particularly in a skirt, but Caladwen was rather determined to hear news of the Kingdom. With raids increasing and whispers of something unnamed to the South, she did not wish to remain unaware. Being ignorant was not a characteristic that would serve her well. Last she’d heard, the Prince had taken his men South but there had not been news since. Had he discovered the cause of the whispers? Was it the Old Ones come to collect the unique and coveted? These were answers to questions that her Father would not look kindly on and her brother would make her work for. Her only option, it seemed, was to sneak quietly along the sturdy beams of oak, her soft footsteps of her bare feet drowned out by the deep varying voices of the men below.

“It was a bold attack. Word is that it happened right out in the open, beneath the noses of both the Princes and their Guard. It bodes uneasily for the Kingdom, I say, coming so soon after the trouble in the South. The Prince returned with only half of his men and there’s now no word on Dramorian’s location.”

“It’s not the army they’re worried about, it is? It’s moving inward. They’re going for the throne. An attempt on Thalion and now the younger brother is missing and possibly dead? It has to be an inside job and that Dramorian always seemed a bit of an upstart, if you ask me. Probably staged the attack to hide his own guilt.”

“Nonsense, Arandur,” Caladwen crouched down, an arm wrapped securely around a support beam as she leaned forward, following the smooth and familiar tones of her Father, “You’re seeing things that aren’t there and breeding fear where there should be none. Anyone who has seen the King’s sons interact would not speak such lies. Dramorian is loyal only to Thalion. That has been clear since the boy picked up a sword. If the betrayal is coming from within the Palace, I do not think it is coming from within the royal family. I’d stake a claim on the Council, if anyone.”

“Whether the younger one is part of that family is still up for debate.”

“You gossip more than any nursemaid, Arandur.”

“But to pull off something like this right under the nose of the King? That is a bold statement, to be sure,” another Elf said, breaking up the pending argument.

“Greed will easily make an Elf bold. I would not be surprised if this was not the first action taken to acquire Thalion’s death. Things have not been smooth in the Kingdom for several seasons. It’s too much of a coincidence not to have one tie into another. Though, if Thalion survived an attack in the south as well as an attack in the Palace, the left hand of the enemy doesn’t seem to know what the right is up to and that gives us hope.”

“It gives the Nobility hope,” Arandur scoffed, waving off the idea, “What does it give us? The army will not be concerned with the Raiders lurking amongst the villages here in the East. They will be far too occupied with securing the safety of the Prince. With Dramorian missing and Thalion dead, the only thing that would keep the Council from the throne is an infant.”

“Are we incapable of defending ourselves? Many of us have served in the King’s army. The skills we learned should not have been so easily forgotten,” Castien sighed, glancing around at the men.

“Other villages have not been able to defend themselves. What is there to say that we will have a better chance?”

Listening from above as the topic began to shift away from the happenings of the Kingdom to the happenings of their own corner, Caladwen frowned down at the group below, silently urging them to return to their previous topic. Too many things have been left without answers. She didn’t care about Raiders. They’d been causing problems in the region for months now. News of such events was old. What had happened to the younger Prince? Had they discovered who was responsible for the attack? What was Thalion planning to do now that there had been two separate attempts on his life? What was he going to do about his brother?

Even as her own mind flowed with her own answers, the voices from below mingled and rose in volume as neighbours argued with each other over what to do to protect their own families and interests. The town was one of Farmers and Merchants, they did not have the means necessary to hold off a fully equipped raiding party, no matter the experience of some. Therredale was not the Royal City, the women were not as equally skilled with a sword and could not be considered among those available to defend against attack. Some could brandish a pot quite well, having seen it first hand against intoxicated husbands, but that would do little against an armed man on horseback.

It was frustrating to sit above them, removed from the conversation of her Elders and yet so much a part of it. Many of the men sitting below thought her not only mute but unintelligent as well, but unknown to them she was quite aware of the happenings of the Kingdom. She understood the politics of their little town and she was frustrated all the more at the need to hide the majority of herself away. Just as she sat in the rafters out of their site, so sat her personality. Her position aloft was suddenly stifling as the small space within the rafters and the realization of her own limitations crushed down on her; a situation she didn’t know how to correct. She’d been living with her ailments for years and couldn’t quite understand why they bothered her now. She’d never been able to make a sound, her voice silent since birth. Instead she’d been gifted with unique features and the ability to touch the thoughts of others. Her Father insisted it was a gift, but the way people looked at her told her that it wasn’t. A person’s thoughts were their own and were suppose to be safe from the intrusion of others. Caladwen made that impossible. With just a touch, her thoughts and that of others could be broadcasted with ease to anyone wishing to hear. She was different from everyone else. It didn’t matter what happened, she would never fit in with the rest of the village.

Pivoting on her heels, Caladwen turned to make her way toward the back of the house where she could inch her way back down to the floor out of the sight of others. Her discomfort blinded her to her surroundings and, realizing the danger too late, her foot caught on a string of pans hanging up out of the way. Her heart to stopped as she tried to prevent them falling. Even with her quick reaction, the cord slipped through her grasping fingers and fell straight toward the table below. To her it seemed as though each pan hit the hard surface with the deafening racket of clanging metal mixed with the ringing of sharpened swords being drawn quickly from scabbards. The chairs of the guests were pushed back from the center of the room at great speed, the grating sound only adding to the maylay that had erupted as the men jumped to their feet.

Horror filled Caladwen’s eyes and a rare burst of colour flooded her pale cheeks. All but a single pair of eyes had turned heavenward, catching her in a moment of disobedience and awkwardness, looking at her as though they would a misbehaving child. She had seen seventeen summers and could no longer be considered a youngling, but at that moment she felt the part. The only eyes that had not turned toward her belonged to her Father and he did not have to raise them for her to realize that he had known she was there from the moment she had sneaked into the room. As clever as she always thought herself to be, he still remained a step ahead of her.

“Landion, assist her.”

He need not say anything else, she was shamed enough as it is. That, however, did not stop her brother from shooting her an irritated look as he moved to do as their Father had asked of him. Landion would not be pleased about having to leave the gathering in order to help her down from her most recent means of disobedience. She was sure to receive an earful for embarrassing him before she was allowed to retire for the night, much to her humiliation. She wanted to argue that it had not been her intention to interrupt, but that never seemed to appease him. It seemed the road the misbehaving was paved with her good intentions.

“I apologize for the interruption, gentleman. My daughter’s curiosity is often hard to tame. Shall we cont-”

Whatever her Father had been intending to say was lost in the sound of a fist pounding on the heavy front door. Changing directions, Landion turned his attention away from his sister and hurried toward the door. Unlatching it, he swung it easily open and allowing a harried looking youth through. It was a good distance to the village and he appeared to have run the entire way.

“Raiders, approaching from the West! There’s thirty or more of them!”

Later, Caladwen would think back to how strange it had been to watch the room seem to settle into a false sense of calm, before said calm was pushed roughly outward and overtaken by a surge of energy; both terrifying and awe-inspiring. Their small corner of the Kingdom did not offer much, but it was home and the reaction of the men below only solidified that thought in her mind. They would do what was necessary to protect what they considered theirs, no matter what that entailed.

“Caladwen!”

Her Father’s raised voice pulled her into motion. His worry would not be on his holdings, but on her. It was because she was different that she had never left the village. What was different was often coveted and he would not allow her to be lost to the Old Ones so easily. Their reach was long without offering an easy means to obtain what they wanted.

Twisting her skirts into a tight knot at her knees, she stepped off the edge of the beam, her fingers catching on the smooth wood as she swung herself down to the floor, landing beside her Father with practiced ease. She had been chasing after her brother since she was small and climbing through the rafters was a practiced skill.

“You must hurry,” he instructed, leading her toward the back stairs and motioning Landion to follow, “Gather your things and take only what you will need. Go out the back and follow the river North until you reach the hunting grounds. Stay out of sight and trust no one!”

It was not the first time Caladwen had heard these words from her Father. He didn’t need to lay out what she was meant to do. She’d made the journal alone at only seven years old and continuously, thereafter. It was a measure they took to keep her presence in the region quiet. All knew of Castien’s son, but very few outside of the villagers knew of his daughter. It was the only means to insure her freedom and she would do what she had to.

“Landion, see her to the river!”

She would have protested to that last instruction, but her Father was already moving forward to brush a soft kiss to her forehead. “Stay safe, Cal.” She smiled at the familiar nickname. It was something that only her Father called her and it’s use took the fight from her. She would do as he requested and allow Landion to accompany her, even if she thought it was a waste of his time. He would be needed in the village and she would see him once the raid had been averted.

As their Father turned, heading toward the front door, Caladwen took to the stairs. Racing upward, she gathered the items she would need and slipped into an old outfit of Landion’s. It would not be the first time she had worn men’s clothing, nor would it be the last. They were far less troublesome than a skirt and would allow her to move with greater speed through the forest. More importantly, with her hair covered, it would be far more difficult to identify her in the dark. Her traveling cloak was the last item she grabbed before making her way back down to her brother.

“Out the back,” he urged, pushing a bundle of dried fruit, bread and cheese into her hand. It would be enough to get her through a day or two, in case she could not be retrieved immediately. The entire ordeal might have been worrying to another, but Caladwen was much too used to such treatment. This was a large part of her life and she was well adjusted to the ups and downs it brought.

Together they slipped out the back door and into the dark, carefully skirting around the back of the barn and disappearing into the trees behind the property. It wasn’t far to the river, but the journey was much easier traveled in the light of day. The familiar path twisted and turned unexpectedly without the sunlight to guide them. Without fail, however, they followed the familiar sound of rushing water until they stood on its bank. From there, she would travel four miles upstream to the family’s hunting ground. It was a trip that they had all made at one time or another.

“Stay out of sight,” Landion urged needlessly, “I’ll come and get you as soon as I can.” His concern earning him a teasing smile as she reached out and placed a hand on his arm, letting her thoughts reach him.

Promise?

The familiar question making him chuckle in return. “Yeah, yeah, I promise. Now go!”

Shooting her Brother a final fond smile, Caladwen turned and dashed back into the cover of the trees. With hair covered and her clothes dark, it was easy to move from shadow to shadow as she followed the rushing current through familiar territory. Her breathing grew more laborious the longer she held her quick pace, but fear of being found out in the open kept her moving. While the Raiders were occupied with the village, the biggest threat lay in the shadows with which she moved. As the moon rose, the more likely it became that she would come into contact with a much more dangerous foe. It was the Old Ones whose power grew during the transition from one day into another. It was the ‘between’ state that had seen many an Elf disappear, just another piece in a never ending collection.

With images of hands reaching out for her in the night, Caladwen pressed on, her heart beating hard in her chest and her footsteps growing heavy. Only when she reached the final incline did she slow to a walk. The small camp was less than a mile away now and once she crested the hill, she would find the view opening up to reveal the village below in the distance. There she would wait in the small cabin her Father had built years before and wait for her brother. There she’d be safe until the sun could rise again.

First, of course, she needed to make it there. A task which would prove to be harder than she had originally expected. Doubt and fear rose within her as the sound of a twig snapping echoed in the distance behind her. For just a moment the entire forest seemed to hold its breath and, in that instant, Caladwen could have sworn she heard a single exasperated sigh drift out of the silence before all sound seemed to rush back to her ears. Desperate not to be caught so close to safety, she pulled together her remaining strength and surged forward, thankful when her tired muscles accepted the sudden burst of adrenaline.

This time she couldn’t mistake the sound of pursuit. Whoever had been following her had given up the effort of staying quiet, the sound of their footfalls combining with her own. Her heart was beating too loudly to separate the sounds, which left her with only a guess as to how many there might of been behind her. Did the Old Ones hunt in groups? Like Wolves? She didn’t know and she would have preferred not to discover the truth.

Reaching out and finding the trunk of a tree, Caladwen used her momentum to swing herself around the base, giving her a brief view of what lay behind her without dangerously slowing her place. What she saw only pushed her fear higher. Whatever it was, it was alone, but it moved with the fluidity of a shadow as it disappeared behind a tree only to reappear several feet ahead. She’d never seen anything move that quickly and her fear only pushed her imagination to create the most horrible possibilities, each one worse than the last.

Finding an extra burst of strength in her fear, Caladwen pushed forward only to suddenly find her path blocked by a dark figure. A part of her mind realized her mistake even as her feet slid along the forest floor in an attempt to avoid the collision; she was outnumbered. Her foot catching on a protruding root pitched her forward and into a solid, male chest. The two of them hitting the forest floor with a surprising force, the breath being forced from her chest even as she rolled to the side. Her attacker reached out for her, but caught only at her collar, his fingers latching onto the end of the scarf that bound her hair. As she rolled and scrambled into a crouch, the material unraveled and her hair spilled free in long, pale waves. Startled violet eyes met a haunting grey, as her hair seemed to glow in the darkness of the forest.

A moment passed, their gazes remained locked, before Caladwen’s senses returned. Pushing herself forward once more, her relief that her attacker was a mere Elf quickly forgotten as his fingers wrapped around her ankle and brought her down hard onto her knees. She could feel the warmth of her own blood soaking into her trousers, but any pain she might have felt was lost in her panic. Her fingers scrambled against the earth, searching for anything might aid her. When they wrapped around a fallen tree branch, she swung the weapon without hesitation, using what remained of her strength. A sickening thud and the immediate release of her ankle announced that she’d hit her mark, but she didn’t dare look and make sure, afraid of what she’d see.

Free again, she struggled forward, her process slowed by a slight limp. She was almost there. She could see the break in the trees and see the cabin. It was right there, all she had to do was make it to the door and she could hide herself inside. She’d lost the bag and cloak she’d brought from the house, having dropped it when she’d hit the ground, but she didn’t stop and pick it up. She just needed to reach safety. Her brother and Father would find her and then she’d be safe.

Bursting through the tree line and into the camp, she pushed her tired and bruised body toward safety, the sound of pursuit once again at her back, now accompanied now by raised voices echoing off the trees. Caladwen had intended not to stop. She’d intended to run until her back was pressed safely against a locked door. As she neared the cabin, however, the image of her small village was suddenly painted below her in terrifying detail, causing her to stumble in her surprise. The entire village was lost in a haze of red, everything unrecognizable under a blanket of flame and smoke. Her home was burning.

Father!

Unthinking, her thoughts called out to him in fear as a hand gripped her arm, jerking her away from the ledge she’d been edging toward. She’d made it to the camp. Everything was suppose to turn out fine. She was supposed to be safe. Her brother would come for her and her small family would continue as they always had; happy and away from danger. She wasn’t suppose to be here, alone in the dark with unknown hands grasping at her.

Let me go! Let go!

In her terror, Caladwen’s control slipped. No longer simply connecting with the individual she was touching, but broadcasting her thoughts to every mind around her, her screams echoing through their minds with a piercing clarity. So lost in her struggle, she didn’t see the fist until it was too late. Colliding with her temple, Caladwen’s body sagged against her attacker as her consciousness slipped from her grasp. Her final glance before the darkness took hold was of her life burning away below her, the heat of the flames and her own tears blurring the image that.