The Realms of Animar (11 page)

Avryn spotted Thane immediately. “Thane! What are you doing here? Are you hurt?”

“We saw blood in your room.” Felia added.

Trussil gasped when she noticed the girl. “Well hello there!”

Avryn looked at the girl and then turned to Trussil. “We will get Thane out of your hair and let you handle this.”

“But—” Thane tried to reply.

“Don’t argue with me,” Avryn interrupted firmly. “Come over here. Let me see where you are cut. We need to leave them alone for now and for this little morning fright you gave us you will be missing the start of the festival tomorrow. You can spend it in your room.” He turned to the guard standing beside him. “Go ahead on back now Marcos, thank you for your help.”

The guard bowed slightly and then left the building.

Thane stood up and brushed the dust off of his pants. A few spots of blood were now visible on his shirt and his hands were also tinted crimson. “I’m not cut, it was from my nose. I had another headache. I think I blacked out or something.” He then walked over to his father who grabbed him by the arm.

Felia scurried over to him. “You should have gotten us.”

“I’m fine,” he replied. “When I came to I couldn’t go back to sleep so I just came here and, well…this happened.”

Trussil took a few steps toward the girl then knelt down. She smiled then asked, “Now, what’s your name sweetie? Mine is Trussil, well that is my last name actually but they all seem to use it.”

“She doesn’t talk,” Thane said.

Felia slapped him lightly on the head. “Thane!”

“Well she hasn’t yet,” the boy muttered.

“Of course she can talk, she is too old to not be able to talk,” Avryn said.

“Quiet down a minute!” Trussil pleaded.

“Please don’t make me miss the festival,” Thane begged.

The conversations quickly digressed into a low roar of jumbled thoughts. Their voices continued to rise as they each struggled to have the questions that sprung into their minds answered.

At the peak of the chaos in the school, when frustrations were growing along with tempers, they all stopped and looked over at the girl who had been cowering in the corner. She had quietly raised a hand into the air.

Trussil glanced back at the others and then calmly asked the girl, “Yes sweetie?”

In a soft, timid voice she replied, “I need a bath.”

Chapter 10

T
he next morning began anew with crisp air and a bright morning sun. Unlike most mornings in Avryndale, the village was already well awake and bursting with activity. The smell of fresh baked bread meandered through the air.

Games and other amusements had been set-up and storefronts displayed a vast assortment of foods and specially brewed ale to quench the thirst of visitors. The arena had been transformed into a visual spectacle where jousting, dueling and archery contests waited to test the skills of the village’s best. Children giggled as they darted between buildings and shops anxious to see what new amusements awaited.

This was the fourth annual Winter Festival and each year the anticipation had grown. For those of the Herbic realm, the coming of winter was usually marked with apprehension. Colder temperatures meant a slowing down of activity and an increase in danger while carnivores became desperate in the search for food. Their kind were forced indoors and tensions often rose during this difficult season.

To counter this, The Council had accepted Avryn’s proposal for an annual celebration designed to lift the spirits of the village in an otherwise gloomy time. It had another, perhaps more important purpose as well, for each year messengers were sent across the land to other settlements, telling them of the festival and where they would be welcomed into a strong and safe new home. With the rise in attacks on herbivore settlements, the number of migrants had continued to increase annually. They simply had nowhere else to go.

As the celebration began the village gates remained closed and well guarded although the mood of the day was certainly more pleasant. Those standing watch rotated regularly to enable them to all take part in the festivities.

Usually rather dull, the early morning shift began with a bit of apprehension when one of the guards spotted a group in the distance rapidly approaching. He signaled Semu and the others on duty and together the four men watched anxiously as the strangers came into focus. There were six and, more importantly, they were camels. The guards relaxed.

The ceremonial horn then echoed throughout the countryside and, after a few seconds of calm, a wave of activity flooded the village. The festival had begun.

Children ran to their favorite amusements, from apple bobbing to pull the tail on the donkey, and adults raced to sample the latest brews and take part in the events in the arena. It was a glorious day.

A few minutes later the group of camels arrived at village walls. Exhausted, the newcomers caught their breath while the guards opened the gate. After a brief rest, they morphed into their human forms - a man, three women and two grinning children. They would make a great addition to the population.

Semu and another guard climbed down from the wall and greeted the group as they entered.

“Welcome to Avryndale,” Semu said loudly. “I hope your journey was safe and uneventful.” His muscular, dark stature and deep voice startled the children a bit.

“Thank you,” the man replied. “Thank you so much. I can’t tell you how glad we are to be here.”

The other guard, a short man with a muscular build and spiked hair, greeted them as well. “Welcome friends. My name is Marcos. Did you see any more on the way by chance?”

“You know, we did actually…about an hour ago, just after light broke. A group of horses was heading this way, maybe a dozen or so. They seemed like a nice bunch. We spotted them atop one of the far hills and they waved. We were going to wait for them but the little ones were anxious to get here. I’m sure they will understand.”

Semu turned to the guard, “Show them to the Inn and get their belongings stowed. I will wait here for the next group.”

“Weren’t you supposed to be in the morning tournament?” Marcos asked. He patted the Guard Captain on the arm and added, “You go on. I can stay here. I don’t mind.”

Semu scowled and glanced at the newcomers who in turn looked at one another nervously. “Alright,” Semu conceded. “But if there is a problem come get me right away.” He then turned to the group of newcomers and said, “Follow me.”

***

Later that morning the second party arrived. It was indeed a group of horses, seven in human form riding on the others. They were adorned in dark cloaks and waved as they approached the gate. It was obvious that they were excited to finally reach their destination.

“Welcome to Avryndale!” Marcos yelled from atop the gate wall.

The man on the front horse waved up at him. He had a handsome, pleasant face and was seated atop a magnificent black mare. His unusual piercing pale blue eyes caught the attention of the guard even from afar.

“Hello friend!” the lead man replied. “It looks like we missed the start of the festivities.” He then leaned down and whispered something into the ear of his horse and patted it on the side. “My brother here is worn out. We took turns which helped us make pretty good time actually.”

“Well we are glad to have you,” Marcos replied. He thought a bit and then continued, “We normally request that all new arrivals morph before entering so if you don’t mind showing your forms I would really appreciate it.”

“It’s not a problem friend,” the man replied. “My name is Mordigal by the way and don’t worry, we understand. You can never be too careful.” He then climbed down from his horse, glanced to the others in his party and motioned for them to do the same.

One of the group, a striking woman with long golden hair, fell from her horse as she began to dismount. She took an awkward tumble and struck her head on the ground.

“Ellyn!” Mordigal cried as he ran to her aid.

Marcos watched with concern as the others gathered around the fallen woman and tended to her. Distressed, the horses began to stir.

Mordigal called up to the guard, “Just a few minutes, sorry for the delay. She will be alright; the poor thing is just exhausted. We sprinted the last leg before switching off and she hasn’t regained her strength.”

One of the horses reared back on its hind legs and snorted, clearly concerned for his fallen friend. Another man in the group approached the horse and quieted it instantly with a whisper.

Marcos sighed as he contemplated the situation. He hated to make the newcomers wait and he was worried about the injured woman. Surely he could let them in. Semu would agree.

The guard then motioned to the two men that manned the entrance. The guards questioned his order with an inquisitive glance but, after a brief stare, they obliged and the gate slowly opened.

“Thank you so much!” the man known as Mordigal said.

The guards watched while he then helped his fallen friend back onto her horse. He then turned and said something quietly to his companions and then together they followed him through the open gate and into the heart of Avryndale.

***

The newcomers were led to an area where all visitors stayed while more permanent lodging was established. On the way, they passed by a number of happy townsfolk, some running, other skipping and dancing to the sounds of a variety of musical instruments that filled the air.

Being a large group, the horses were provided a separate building that had been stocked with wheat, hay and an assortment of fresh fruits. The guard explained where his favorite amusements were and even offered to help them unpack. It was a nice offer but the group graciously turned him down.

When Marcos turned to leave Mordigal quickly asked, “Actually, there is one more thing you can do for me. We brought a gift for Avryn. Do you know where I might find his house? I would hate to interrupt the events so perhaps I can just leave it for him there.”

“Oh sure, actually we are quite close,” the guard replied. “Just go out this door and about….” He paused while he counted in his head, “…yes, eight houses down to the left, turn right at the next walkway, then the second on your left from there. He is over at the arena this morning. You should stop by and say hello!”

“Definitely, you can count on it,” Mordigal said with a smile.

As Marcos turned to leave he stopped and looked at one of the horses. His face was marked with curiosity. “That one have shoes on?”

“Of course,” Mordigal replied calmly. “Without them our feet would be bleeding for days. The rock is terrible on the hoof.” He then shook his right foot and groaned while Ellyn slipped quietly behind the guard. She was an experienced killer who anticipated trouble well.

Surprisingly, Marcos seemed satisfied with the response and even winced at the thought. “Ah, I see,” he said. “Well, hope to see you again soon.”

The guard then smiled and turned to leave but abruptly came to a stop when he stumbled into Ellyn.

He was clearly captivated by her beauty as her radiant smile had rendered him speechless. While he gazed into her alluring eyes and began to ponder her motives she slid a dagger into his heart. He made only the slightest whimper of a sound before she removed the blade and watched his body crumble to the floor. The man then morphed into a thick grey and brown porcupine. Death had come quickly.

“Figures,” Ellyn said as she looked down at the prickly corpse.

Mordigal rushed past her and peeked outside the barn to make sure nobody had seen them. He returned and grabbed Ellyn by the shoulder. He was angry but she was holding back laughter.

“Have you lost your mind?” he asked angrily. “You could ruin everything!”

She twisted away from his grasp and wiped the bloodied dagger on her cloak. “So dramatic darling. He noticed the shoes. I bought us some time.”

“You don’t know that,” Mordigal said. “He didn’t have to die.” He thought a moment then looked at Ash and then the others. “Hide the body. Quickly.”

Ellyn rolled her eyes, tucked the dagger in her belt and helped move the corpse deeper into the barn. They covered it with hay while the others made sure the horses were securely tied down.

Mordigal then gathered the group together and went over the plan once more. He reminded them of the signal horns they each carried. It was vital that they only use them to alert the others if they had been discovered. They quickly reviewed their assignments, trying their best to leave no possibility uncovered.

Once the discussion came to an end the pack finished their preparations. Ellyn removed the dagger from her belt and placed it in a saddle bag while Ash and the others followed suit with any metal they had been carrying. The ability to morph quickly was critical.

The seven assassins glanced at one another and then quietly left the barn. They separated without a word. Their mission had begun.

Chapter 11

O
n his way to Avryn’s home Mordigal grew tense when a small group of giggling children approached. They paused briefly while they looked him over but then passed by, eager to join in the activities of the day.

Relieved, Mordigal continued his walk and a few minutes later he was greeted by a round older woman who was carrying a large basket of fresh bread. He was at first apprehensive, but relaxed when she smiled and paid him no attention. Although he was a stranger to them, they curiously accepted his presence without hesitation. He found this most remarkable.

At last Mordigal turned a corner and spotted the house that the guard had described. It was quiet, as were all of the homes in the area, the festivities were apparently taking place in another part of the village. To his surprise, the house did not appear to belong to a king. It was no larger or more elaborate than the other homes of the area, merely a simple wooden structure of average size with a thatched roof.

He ducked behind some shrubs and waited, needing to be sure he would not be spotted entering the house. As he lingered, he wondered how the others in the pack were doing. He had heard no sounds of alarm so he assumed all was going well.

A faint roar of applause followed by cheers erupted in the distance. With his assumption confirmed, Mordigal took one last look around and then proceeded to the front door. He turned the wooden handle and quickly entered then closed the door silently behind him.

Daylight seeped in through the drawn shutters sending streaks of light throughout the room. Like its exterior, the inside of the home was simple. Mordigal entered into a living area of sorts with a stove and chimney to his right and a table surrounded by four chairs to his left. A small hallway straight ahead led to the back where he could see two doors, one on the left and one on the right.

Mordigal froze when he heard something up ahead coming from one of the rooms. Mumbling perhaps. He listened. Slowly he crept forward. It was a boy who was talking to himself. Why was he here? Could it be this easy?

He cautiously crept down the hall to the second door on his right. He could hear movement inside. The door suddenly opened inward and Mordigal stood face to face with a young boy. He was thin with blonde hair, sharp eyes and a broad chin. It was Avryn’s son, he just knew it. He was older than he had expected but looked just like his father. Mordigal would never forget his face.

“Who are you?” the boy begged as he stumbled backwards.

Mordigal stood in the doorway as he quickly inspected the room. He saw no weapons and the only other exit was a small window to his left. He then withdrew a finely crafted wooden dagger from his waist. It was ground to a sharp point that matched that of any blade.

The boy recoiled onto his bed at the far corner of the room. His eyes darted around as he searched for an escape. The shutters on the window were closed. He was trapped.

Mordigal took a step into the room and, without taking his gaze from the boy, calmly closed the door behind him. He took no pleasure in killing children. He was simply carrying out an order but in this case, he had a personal vendetta to repay that the boy was surely unaware of. It made the task no easier.

It was then that he noticed something hanging above the bed. It was a carving of a galloping horse, magnificently cut into a round piece of oak. The detail was spectacular. The artist truly gifted.

Although in a state of shock, the boy had not completely lost his wits. He took a deep breath.

Mordigal quickly held out his hand and pleaded, “Wait!”

It was too late. The boy screamed as loud as he could. His lungs were strong and forced Mordigal to wince.

“Where did you get that?” Mordigal yelled over him as he pointed to the carving.

The boy continued his awful shriek.

Mordigal charged the boy and briefly fought off his flailing arms. The yelling stopped when he put the dagger to his young throat. He gestured to the carving and said, “Tell me where you got that or your life ends right now.”

Tears had formed in the boy’s eyes. He sniffled.

“Why?” he asked. “What do you want with it?”

“Answer the question boy.”

“My teacher…she gave it to me. A couple of years ago.”

“Your teacher? Your teacher here?”

“Yes, yes. Take it if you want. I don’t care. Please let me go.”

Mordigal withdrew the dagger from the boy’s throat and contemplated his next move. He knew he was running out of time but an unexpected twist had developed that made him rethink his plan.

***

The man stepped back but Thane could not take his eyes from the dagger. He could feel his heart raging beneath his chest. He screamed again. Hopefully someone would hear him. He did not want to die. It wasn’t his time. Who was this man? He wished he hadn’t snuck out last night and gotten into trouble. He would be with his father right now at the festival.