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Our Elven kin, by death you depart,
Forever with your soul and heart,
You were loved by us in glorious years,
We Elves now mourn in pain and tears

Rimidon bless you now in death,
We hope that, in your final breath,
You smiled upon the setting sun,
All desires and wants had come

For you were strong, just and true,
You gave us happiness and hope anew
You will be missed, and furthermore,
Be in our hearts forevermore.
      
      
      

Aya murmured that she needed sleep, and Villid made a bed for her in a cul-de-sac close to some trees. As they left Llyliana’s resting place behind, Villid found himself gazing sadly behind him to the freshly dug earth, the hurried and clumsily made grave. Aya fell asleep almost as soon as she lay in the bedroll, her breathing raspy and uneven from crying. Villid stayed up for a while longer, feeding the fire, wondering what in Theldiniya had happened to the
Elf Seer, and why the Dragons had allowed it.
That’s if the Dragons were real at all. Now, he was starting to doubt even more that they existed. As a Tyran, he and his peers hadn’t learnt much about the Dragons in the academies, instead filling in the time with extra training. The Seer had always prayed furiously, insisting that the gospels and scriptures were true. Maybe… just maybe… Shade had been right. Maybe the Seer had just been a mad old fool after all.
Villid poked at the earth with a thick twig, scribbling meaningless shapes into the dirt. Aya slept behind him, sniffling when she turned over, her whole world turned upside down yet again. Even if the Seer had been mad, Villid decided, at least it had let him meet Aya. He was her protector now, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.
It was dark now, and the fire cast shadows all around him. They had chosen an excellent hiding place; it was a natural
impasse in the rocks with several trees, with a clear view of the road ahead of them. If anyone came snooping around, Villid would know about it.
Villid stretched and yawned, watching the black sky as the stars twinkled above them through the trees. Aya made a noise and he glanced at her; she had curled up close to the fire, her hands tucked beneath her head. She was whimpering in her sleep again. Villid knew how she felt – if she had been as close to her Seer as Villid had been to his, he understood her pain completely.
What would she do now, he wondered. She was the same as him, now – no Seer, no way of going home. Like him, she was lost, and they only had each other. Would she want to stay with him? Villid sighed deeply as he watched her sleeping figure. If only he knew how she felt about him. He was her protector, sure, but what else? Friends? Companions? More?
Perhaps one day, he would know how she felt. And maybe she’d never know. Either way, he was determined that this wasn’t the end of their road together.

It was that odd, greyish time of night that occurs before dawn, after the night stars have faded away. The air was murky, as if someone had covered the earth in a translucent blanket. Villid’s eyes snapped open, all sense of sleep vanishing from his body as quickly as it had come. He sat up. He couldn’t even remember going to bed.
The fire was still burning and Aya had turned over, facing away from him and into the trees. There was something odd about the atmosphere around them; was Villid drowsy, or was the air really as thick as it felt?
His head hurt, and he felt dizzy. Reluctantly he pushed the blanket off of himself and got to his feet, his vision swimming. What was happening?
“Villid?”
He spun round, and all the thickness and greyness of the air seemed to fade away, fizzling into nothing, before a shadow emerged from the trees. Villid raised a shaking hand and unsheathed his sword. But the voice hadn’t sounded threatening. It had been oddly familiar…
“Villid, my boy,” said the man, the dim light hitting his face and his shoulders. His old face frowned as he shuffled closer to Villid. “It’s been a long time.”
“Seer?” Villid breathed, hardly daring to believe his eyes. The old Tyran gave a dry half-smile. Villid reached out with trembling fingers to touch the Seer on his shoulder, but his hand went through his skin as if it were air.
“Am I dreaming?” Villid muttered. “How is this possible?”
“I am a shadow,” the Seer whispered. “Merely a ghost.”
“How?” Villid asked. He could feel a tightening feeling in his chest as he gazed at the wizened old face he knew so well. Was it really him? The Seer looked at him sadly.
“There is much to tell you,” the old man whispered.
“Seer,” Villid said, and his voice cracked. “In the tower… I’m sorry… I couldn’t stop him…”
The Seer shushed him with a wave of his hand. “No apologies. Shade has been corrupted for many years,” he said. “Now, listen, my boy. There are many things you have to do, and I don’t have much time.”
The Seer’s ghost sat on a nearby rock, shaking as he lowered himself onto the stone. Villid knelt in front of him, still full of shock and awe from what he was seeing. “I still can’t believe you’re real,” he said. “How can you come back? Alchemy? Magic? Did the mages help you do this?”
“I can’t explain that now,” the Seer replied. “I need to tell you something very important, Villid. Listen carefully.”
The Seer used his staff to draw shapes in the dirt. “The Darkma’s power is rising faster than we ever imagined,” the Seer said. “Soon, they’ll overrun the Tyrans. The
Centaurs have joined them, and they
have the advantage. Our numbers are dwindling, and soon the whole of Theldiniya will be overrun by these monsters.”
He had drawn an odd symbol into map into the soil; Villid watched as the shape took form to a complicated, map-like symbol in the dirt. “The only way to take on the Darkma and win is to gather soldiers from around the land
,” the Seer whispered. “Fort Valour is building, but it is not yet strong enough. It’s full of refugees and weaklings, barely enough for an army.”
“You know of Fort Valour?” Villid asked in surprise. The Seer didn’t answer him.
“The Knabi in the south-east, the Vrana in the north, various human clans – all must be warned and gathered,” the Seer said. “You must travel to each of these lands and gather allies to face the Darkma. The Tyrans can’t do it alone.”
“Why me?” Villid found himself asking, before he could stop himself. “What makes you think a Knabi will listen to me, a Tyran?”
“Because,” the Seer pointed his staff to the sleeping figure next to the fire. “You have her.”
Villid found himself gazing at Aya longer than he had intended to. He eventually looked back up at the Seer. He felt guilt fill him until he couldn’t stand it any longer. “The
E
lf Seer is dead,” he blurted. “That girl… she isn’t the
Elf Seer. I thought she was. I saved her, and she told me she was looking for the real Seer. We found her here, on top of the shrine, but… it’s too late,” he pounded his fist into the dirt beside him. “She’s been killed.” He looked up at the Seer, who was watching him with a sad look. “Are we doomed?” he asked desperately. “Is it over?”
“Llyliana was a Seer, and would have been a useful companion,” the Seer said. “The Seers share powers, and so can share trust. Saving Llyliana would have helped gain the Knabi and the humans’ trust. The northern clans, too. However…” he glanced at Aya. “This woman will do.”
“Do?” Villid repeated curiously. The Seer looked at him oddly.
“I have to go, Villid,” the Seer whispered, rising slowly to his feet.
“Wait,” Villid begged, getting to his knees. He swallowed. “Are you…?” he sighed. “You’re alive?”
The Seer gave another half-smile. “If only it were true,” he said gently. “I am a spirit, Villid, and although I would like to stay and live in this world as a phantom for eternity, I cannot. I only came back to tell you of this quest. To first gain the trust and armies of the Knabi, and then the rest of the clans in Theldiniya, and end this war once and for all. Will you do it?”
Villid glanced at the dusty map that the Seer had drawn into the dirt. He looked up to face the Seer, and rose fully to his feet. Slowly, he crossed his arms to his chest and bowed, the sign of Tyran respect. “Of course I will.” he vowed.
The Seer nodded. “Thank you,” he said, and turned to walk away. “And, Villid,” he turned back round. “One day, my death will be avenged. Shade is the one to blame, not you.”
Villid watched the old man as he limped into the trees, leaning on his staff as he shuffled away. As he walked, Villid was once again suddenly hit with dizziness that made him stumble. He held his head, and a sudden shooting pain ran through his skull. He fell to his knees and the trees spun around him, and heard a dull thud as he hit the ground. He groaned as his world spun around him, and
closed his eyes, willing the pain and the dizziness to stop… until nothing, and silence.

Villid woke with every part of him aching. He seemed to drift into consciousness agonisingly slowly, as if gradually emerging from a thick layer of sand. Eventually his heavy eyelids opened, and he squinted to Aya, who looked as tired as he felt. When she saw him, she gave him a sad smile which he could only weakly return.
When they had buried the ashes of last night’s fire and were sitting on the grass enjoying a modest breakfast of nuts and water from the nearby spring, Aya said something that made Villid almost drop his food.
“I had a strange dream in the night,” she said, her voice cracking slightly from sleep and tears. “Llyliana came to me and told me that we both had something important to do. She said we had a quest… to save Theldiniya from the Darkma. I know it was just a dream, but it felt so real.”
Villid stared down at his breakfast, which suddenly he seemed to have lost his appetite for. “The same thing happened to me,” he said finally, knowing he wouldn’t believe it until he’d said it aloud. “The Tyran Seer came to me too… told me we had to gather soldiers from across the land and create an army, starting with…”
“…the Knabi.
” Aya finished. They stared at each other. As Villid glanced behind Aya, he suddenly saw the stone that the Seer had been sitting on in his dream. Something seemed to clutch at his heart as he peered at the patch of
dirt in front of the stone. Etched in the soil was
the symbol that the Seer had shakily drawn with his staff. “It wasn’t a dream,” Villid whispered. “It was real.”

They packed their supplies quickly onto Acotas. The stallion seemed anxious to
leave too, and patted his hooves on the grass. The sky had grown dark, and angry grey clouds hung low above them.
“I don’t know about you, but I’m doing as Llyliana says,” Aya said, climbing onto the stallion and settling herself on the back of the saddle. “I owe the Seer that much.”
Villid felt the same. Aya would never know how much he had truly cared for the desperate old man who had taken such good care of him in his younger years. As he walked alongside Acotas through the thicket of trees and back towards the temple, he found himself telling Aya almost everything there was to know about the Seer.
He talked about being a young boy and how the Seer had taken care of him after he’d lost his mother, mentoring him in the academies and helping him train extra hours to keep up with the others. How, even after the Seer’s apparent descent into madness, he and Villid still spent time together now and then, and how he’d taught him all about the Dragons, Tyran history and culture. Villid had had a true friend in Xentar. He’d had his brother, Swift, but it was more of a mutual aid in battles and hunting, and later the pursue of ale and women, than a true friendship. The Seer had almost been a father to him.
Aya listened in silence as they made their way back through the valley, leaving the old temple, and Llyliana’s final resting place, far behind them. Aya was beginning to understand everything more clearly now. Villid had saved her because the Seer had asked him to – and to Villid, the Seer was more important than anybody, including his leaders.
In a way – a big way, Aya thought, she owed the Tyran Seer her life just as much as she owed Villid.
“Whatever the Seer wants, I’ll obey without question,” Villid said eventually. “We both had the same dream – or vision, I suppose, that our Seers came and told us of the same quest. Whatever he wants from me, I’ll do my best to carry it out.”
“The same goes for me,” Aya replied. “Llyliana… I couldn’t save her. She said it was up to us now. Whether it’s fate or chance, I don’t know, but I know it’s up to us now to save what’s left of Theldiniya.”
Villid nodded. As well as the swelling determination rising in his chest, he felt a sense of euphoria. He could still travel with the young
Elf woman at his side. This wasn’t goodbye. It wasn’t the end of his road with Aya. No – it was just the beginning.

As they descended across the valley, it grew darker, and the grey clouds swam in the air and seemed to hang even lower. The mountain tops were covered in thick mist, and after barely an hour, droplets of rain began to fall from the sky. Villid climbed onto Acotas and the stallion galloped
powerfully along the fields. It wasn’t long before the droplets turned into a huge downpour of rain. Within minutes, they were soaked; their hair stuck to their necks and backs and their clothes seemed to cling to their bodies like a freezing second skin. The river was almost overflowing; Acotas splashed along the grass on his strong hooves towards the forest on the other side of the valley. As Aya clutched at Villid’s waist, she thought longingly about her village. Now Llyliana was gone, too. The one last connection she’d had to her people was gone forever. She thought about the small burial they had given her – it was all they could have done, although the
E
lf Seer deserved more, so much more. She hadn’t been able to give anybody a decent funeral – not her friends, her brother, her father…
Aya sighed heavily as the cold downpour pounded on her face and back, glad that the rain could hide her burning tears. Was there anyone she cared about who was still alive?
‘Yes
,’
said a voice in her head.
‘
There’s Villid.’
The rain was not as heavy in the forest, and by the time they got into the trees, Acotas was panting heavily, water sliding off his long black mane. They slid off him and Villid patted his neck and rubbed his nose.
In the forest, the rain fell from the leaves and created a musical, pattering sound as it fell noisily onto wood and earth. It sounded familiar to Villid, almost nostalgic, as he
thought of the Elves’ forest. It wasn’t long before they could see trees that they recognised. “Look!” Aya pointed at the clear marks Villid had etched into the bark. They were almost at the cave that they had found earlier. The thought of dry moss and a roof made Villid grin widely at her. “Let’s hurry.” he ushered.
It was when he’d let his guard down and he and Aya were at their most vulnerable that it happened. A movement in the bushes made Villid hold up a hand, and Aya and Acotas stopped. He felt a prickling sensation on the back of his neck – the kind you feel when you know someone is watching you. He spun round, reaching for his sword…
“Don’t move.”
They were surrounded.
The forest seemed to come alive as ten or more humans suddenly emerged from the trees and bushes around them. They were dressed in green or brown tunics, cleverly disguising themselves to blend into the scenery. They came from all directions, some clutching daggers, others holding longer swords. The human who had spoken first sneered at them.
“Thought you would pass through this forest unscathed, did you?” he asked, holding a long, gold-tipped dagger. Aya and Villid glanced at each other – they had passed here before unnoticed.
“What do you want?” Villid asked. “Gold?”
“We like gold,” the human smirked. “But we don’t just
want money. That horse
looks nice, too. And that pretty little mistress of yours.”
Aya cringed, and Villid felt her shiver beside him, not from cold, but fear. He felt anger surging in his chest.
‘
Just try to take her
,’ the thought burned in his mind. On the surface, however, he remained calm. “We have human gold,” he said. “Just let us through.”
“We don’t want gold!” the human suddenly cried. “We want blood! Attack!”
This sudden outburst surprised Villid, but he unsheathed his sword quick as lightning and blocked an attack from the crazed human. “Aya!” he cried. She understood without explanation – she unsheathed her sword, shaking slightly from the rain and the adrenaline. A podgy human man rushed at her while the rest went for Villid – she dodged a clumsy attack, reeled out of the way and pushed her sword into his side with all her might; blood spurted onto the ground as he gave a strangled cry. Aya gasped and pulled out her sword. The human collapsed to his side, writhing in pain. She felt herself shiver as she clutched the sword. She couldn’t kill him…
Villid was battling several other humans; Acotas had panicked and bolted. Aya dashed to Villid and dived towards the nearest human, burying the sword into his back. He gave a cry and landed heavily on the floor, Aya landing on top of him. Villid beheaded his attacker and swung round; Aya scrambled to her feet as another human
from behind ran towards her…
“No!” Villid yelled, and his short dagger spun into the air and missed Aya by inches; it pierced the human in the forehead. He stood dumbly for a moment, then turned and fell to the ground, dead. Aya pulled her sword out of the human’s back; it was covered in crimson blood; as the rain poured down on them, the blood slid from the steel. Another human suddenly ran towards Aya, flailing a heavy axe and screaming wildly. She dodged out of the way quickly, but not fast enough; ripping pain tore at her shoulder; she screamed in agony and waved her sword blindly; it slashed through the air and caught the human on the arm. He dropped his weapon and clutched his elbow. He glared at her and bent to pick it up his axe, but Aya was faster – she quickly stabbed him between the shoulder blades and he fell to the floor with a pained groan.
Villid blocked the bandits’ attacks and delivered heavy blows with his own axe; blood spurted over him and his weapons and the humans fell to the floor one by one, some screaming and clutching their stomachs, where guts and blood spilled out. One human was left, backing off angrily, looking afraid.
“You’ve won this time!” he cried, backing off. Villid sighed and lowered his weapons, his chest heaving. They were all right… they’d won… Aya stared at him in disbelief, but then...
The human gave a cry of anger and threw his dagger; it shot through the air in what seemed like slow motion, and pierced Villid in the chest. Aya gave a scream of horror as Villid blinked slowly for a moment, looking down at the dagger buried in his skin, and collapsed onto his side, gasping, his dark eyes wide with surprise and disbelief.
“No!” Aya screamed, and dived for the human. Weaponless, the human’s sneer disappeared as Aya charged into him with all her might. He fell heavily to the ground and Aya landed on top of him. Without hesitation she buried her sword into the human’s chest and he gave a choked, angry cry. She buried it further into him, rage and desperation almost blinding her. The human’s eyes suddenly glowed blood red, and his teeth seemed to grow longer and turn a grotesque shade of yellow; Aya was repulsed and flinched, but she couldn’t run away, not now…
The human gave a choked cry, sounding more beast than human, and his body collapsed with a violent shudder. Aya climbed off him and pulled out her sword, before running between the bodies and to Villid, who had stopped moving.
“Villid!” Aya screamed, running to him, bending to cup his face in her hands. “Villid, please, no, please...”
“Aya,” Villid’s eyes rolled, his breathing dangerously faint. Aya looked at the
dagger buried in his chest – it wasn’t far in, and surely it wasn’t in his heart...
“Villid, stay awake,” she said urgently, and grabbing him under the arms, she dragged him towards the cave they had found, leaving the bandits’ bodies strewn around them. He was heavy, almost too heavy to drag along, but a new strength seemed to have awakened in her – she had to get him into the cave, there was no way that she could fail, not this time.
“Don’t fall asleep,” she begged Villid. “Please, Villid, don’t go to sleep. Stay awake. Keep your eyes open. Don’t stop breathing. Look at me, look where we’re going. I’m going to look after you, you’re going to be fine. You’ve had worse than this, remember? Don’t go to sleep, please, Villid, I’m begging you. I love you, Villid, I love you, don’t leave me, please, I need you, Villid... please, just try to stay awake, we’re nearly there, don’t give up...”
She had failed to protect her friends, her father, her brother, and Llyliana too. She couldn’t fail anymore. She couldn’t – no, she wouldn’t – let Villid die.
Close to the cave, she suddenly saw a dark, moving silhouette between the trees, and she almost sobbed with fear. But she recognised the shape – the grey body, long neck, the shaggy, black mane…
“Acotas!” Aya cried desperately. The horse seemed to hear her and trotted to them, water sliding from its handsome face and mane. He butted Aya gently with his silky nose, as if to comfort her.
For some reason, Acotas made Aya feel a little calmer. The rocks leading up to the cave were steep, but it was possible to get up. “Villid,” she whispered. Villid’s eyes flickered
open for a moment. “He needs rest.”
she said, whether to the horse or herself, she didn’t really know. Slowly, and with the rain and slippery rocks hindering
her, Aya half-dragged, half-carried Villid up the rocks and to the mossy cave above. It seemed like a lifetime before they finally reached it, and she pulled Villid inside, arranging him onto his back. Exhausted and terrified, tears ran down Aya’s cheeks as she gently applied pressure with her robes to the wound. The blade was longer than she first anticipated, close to his shoulder, and not too far in. Villid groaned in pain as Aya pulled out the dagger and threw it to the floor, then ripped his sopping shirt from his torso, exposing the wound more clearly.
She applied more pressure and wrapped it in material she ripped from her sleeve, like she had seen Alicia do to Navin in Fort Valour. She ripped her sleeves into long strips and wrapped them round his shoulder and under his arm, and soon the blood flow lessened.
Close to the mouth of the cave were purple leaves, hiding a lavender-coloured herb kept dry under the rocks. They looked familiar. She pulled a handful of the leaves from the stem. “Night Vein,” she gasped, remembering how Villid had used the strange herb to heal her wound.
“Villid, it’s going to be all right,” she urged, as she gently pulled back the robes to apply the leaves to his wound. Villid’s head moved slowly left and right, his eyes half-closed, murmuring something. “Villid?” said Aya anxiously.
“Does it hurt?”
Villid seemed to be dreaming – or was it the pain? Aya watched him anxiously, holding his hand, quietly begging him to stay alive, to stay tough. “I can’t live without you, Villid,” she whispered desperately. “What will I do if you go?”
It seemed like hours before his pained frown gradually disappeared, and he seemed more relaxed. On Villid’s wrist were droplets of blood, and it took Aya several moments to realise that she, too, was bleeding from the battle. She quickly wrapped her shoulder in what little spare material she had left. When Villid finally looked calm, she dared peep out of the cave.
What little daylight had been there that day was slowly disappearing. It would be nightfall soon. She glanced back at Villid; his chest was moving slowly up and down, and his wound had stopped bleeding. Taking a deep sigh to calm herself, Aya slid out of the cave and collected what little dry wood and leaves she could find, fed Acotas, and carried the food bags back to the cave, her stomach rumbling.
When she opened the bags, she stared down at them in dismay. Most of the goods were ruined. Only the bottom layer of nuts, fruits and a little
bread were edible. In the
bag
of clothes, the spare robes they had packed were slightly wet, but still much dryer than the sodden robes that clung to her skin now. Aya busied herself with building a fire beside the cave, and soon a crackling, welcoming light
burned at the entrance. Because of the rocks outside, it would be difficult for an intruder to spot the light unless they were actually looking for it. They were safe here, Aya was sure of it.
Aya quickly changed into the dry robes and placed her wet ones beside the fire. Villid’s breathing had become much calmer, and his hand lay on his stomach as he slept. The firelight seemed to highlight his handsome face and dark features, and the muscles on his arms and torso. Aya went to him, her heart still pounding with fear, and gently wiped his damp face with some material from her sleeve. His chest moved up and down steadily, and his pain seemed to have gone. The thought filled her with relief.
She gently pulled off his boots and dried Villid off as best as she could with more spare robes. She lay down beside him onto the moss, sliding her hand into his and clutching it tightly, silently thanking Rimidon, the Elvish Death Dragon, for not taking him, and wondering how she would have gone on if he had died.
Tiredness washed over her as the rain picked up again outside. It was properly dark now. Aya peered out of the cave once more to check on Acotas – the stallion had found a dry patch under a group of trees and was laying down between them, his deep snores penetrating even the rain. Aya found herself smiling at the horse, and retreated into the cave, where the fire protected them
from the downpour. Aya held onto Villid, sighing quietly to herself
and, listening to the steady patter of the rain, she drifted to sleep, warm, comfortable and knowing that, finally, she had managed to save someone she loved.