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The next day, Villid, Aya and Navin approached the gates of Fort Valour again, only to be met by shaking heads. “The storm hasn’t gotten better,” said Percival, the human guard. “It’s worse. The storm is almost ripping the mountain in two. Some of the Knabi flew up there to examine the clouds, and were almost swept away by the wind. I’m sorry, I can’t let you leave.”
“But it’s important!” said Villid angrily.
“I’m sorry,” Percival said, sweeping his brown eyes over the three of them. “You also have a horse, correct? It wouldn’t last out there. The mages are keeping Fort Valour safe from the weather at this moment. Your errands will have to wait. Besides -” he eyed the three of them, “Fort Valour is probably the only place where a Tyran, an
Elf and a Knabi can travel safely together. Why do you want to leave?”
Villid made an angry noise and stormed off in the opposite direction. Aya bowed quickly to Percival and then hurried after Villid.
“How are we supposed to complete a quest set by the Dragons if the Dragons can’t even move a rainstorm?” Villid growled, as Aya had to half-run to keep up with his long strides. Navin the Knabi trotted by them anxiously.
“Well, we’re stuck here for a few days,” said Aya, “We could use this time. We can train.”
Navin nodded eagerly. “Show me how to use your sword and axe, Villid,” he begged. Villid caught Aya’s eye and bit back a laugh. “The axe is probably bigger than you,” he teased.
“Was that a joke?” Navin asked in surprise. “You make jokes?”
Aya laughed, and Villid stopped walking in shock. “I’ll pay you back for that.” he grinned.
The sky above them was covered with black rainclouds, and now and then they could hear claps of thunder rumble. The protective spell over Fort Valour seemed to be working; even the rain had stopped falling into the city, and the usual crowds of people milled around on the pathways, although several of them nervously glanced upwards now and then. Every few minutes, a bright flash of lightning lit up the sky. Several cottages and stalls around them started to light their lanterns as the black clouds made it more like twilight than the morning.
They made their way to the training square and practised their sword techniques. Aya was feeling more and more confident with weapons each day, and Villid started to teach her more complicated techniques.
“Aya, if you dodge like this -” Villid lunged himself to the left, “and then stab -” he thrust his sword into an imaginary enemy, “then you can attack two at once.” he spun quickly and lunged his sword and his axe in different directions.
“What was the first one again?” Navin stuttered, clutching a small dagger they had bought at a weapons
stall. Villid patiently showed him, standing straight and crossing his weapons quickly. As he did that, the memories of beheading the young
Elf back in the E
lven village suddenly shot through his mind. Shocked, he shook his head impatiently, pushing back the grief and remorse he felt for that night. As his mind cleared, he saw Aya and Navin
staring at him.
“Now you try it.” he grunted, avoiding Aya’s gaze.

At night, Aya mulled over what she and Villid had learned. The war between the Darkma and Tyrans was raging so much that the rest of the land needed to combine an army to combat the Darkma. And… aid the Tyrans? Could she do that? Get
Elves, Knabi and humans to fight together alongside the people who had slaughtered her family and destroyed her home?
Aya saw Villid’s sleeping figure in the darkness, and fear gripped her heart. How terrible were the Darkma if the Tyrans were to be allies?
She tried to push these worrying thoughts from her mind. So far, the Darkma had seemed like something far, far away, or from stories or dreams. Now they seemed terrifyingly close.
She thought of the Dragons. They were making this all be. They sent the Seers back to send them on this important
quest. She could trust them… surely.
Were the Dragons watching them as they embarked on their journey? Would they punish her for being in love with Villid, and for what they did after the sun set? Would the Dragons kill her, or kill Villid? Aya felt regret and horror clutch at her heart at the very thought of Villid being harmed. But she also felt foolish. Surely it had never been unheard of before that different races lived and slept with each other, especially in places such as Fort Valour where many different kinds of people lived together in such close proximity? Aya and Villid couldn’t be the first... they couldn’t be...

As the days passed, Percival the human guard gave them the same news every day, but promised to inform them at once if the storm stopped. It became a normal routine for Villid, Aya and Navin to pray in the morning at the Dragonstone with the rest of the townsfolk, and then head to the training square to train, and eat and sleep at Mical’s
inn. In the evenings, they would explore Fort Valour, taste different kinds of food and examine different parts of the city. Day by day Aya and Navin’s swordsman skills were getting better. Some humans brought large, bright targets for people to train with, and Villid showed them how to throw daggers quickly and accurately. The first time Aya tried, she hit almost the middle of the target, and Villid laughed and hugged her. He let go quickly, however, and hurried to show Navin how to throw a dagger. Navin
missed the target entirely, and almost impaled a startled passer-by.
“I would enjoy this if we didn’t have such a difficult task ahead.” said Aya, as they ate near the Elven
village. To Aya’s delight, they sold similar spicy herbs to the on
es she had liked to cook in her village, and happily ordered some at once.
“Me too,” said Navin. “I’m going to miss you when you go. When will you be back?”
Villid and Aya looked at each other. When would they have time to come back? They had a map to get to Vallahan, but no idea of how long it would take. And after convincing the Knabi to help them fight the Darkma, what then? Would they be able to go back to Fort Valour, or would they have to carry on with their quest, and look for humans,
Dwarves and whoever else to aid them?
“We won’t be able to come back for a long time.” said Villid reluctantly, as Navin’s face fell.
“Oh.” said Navin, staring at his food.
“You could come back with us,” Aya suggested gently. “The Knabi can’t banish you forever.”
“You would understand, Villid,” Navin said, not looking up, “How you can’t go back if you betray the tribe. It’s the same for me.”
Villid silently disagreed; Navin was still a child, and had failed a test. Villid had been blamed for the murder of the Seer, the ultimate treason where Tyrans were concerned.
It
was his tribe leader’s word against his own.
Aya sighed slowly. “Well, as soon as the storm stops, we’re leaving,” she said simply.
It was when Aya and Villid had spent almost three weeks in Fort Valour that Aya began to wake up in the morning with a violent urge to vomit.
As she fled outside to throw up for the second morning in a row, fear flooded her mind and began to throb inside her head. She slowly placed her hand on her stomach, her mouth burning, her head spinning in confusion and panic.
“Are you all right, Aya?” said a voice. Aya turned round; it wasn’t Villid, it was Mical, the owner of the inn. Aya nodded quickly, straightening up and wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “Good morning, Mical,” she said, bowing.
“My lady, are you sick?” Mical
asked. He looked genuinely concerned.
“I think it was my supper last night, Mical. I’m fine, really.” Aya forced what she hoped looked like a carefree smile; Mical’s eyebrows rose, before he nodded and sauntered away. Aya sighed, pushed the panicking thoughts out of her mind, and went back upstairs to her and Villid’s room.

For the first time in weeks, the sun poured through the window and the sky was a warm, forget-me-not blue. Villid had thrown the blankets off of himself and was laying
with his hand on his stomach, head thrown back and his mouth open. Aya looked at him fondly, lightly stroking his face.
How childish and calm he looked, locked in a peaceful sleep. Aya looked hungrily at his body; his tall figure, his long legs, his strong chest; his thick dark hair, which was getting long, his handsome face, straight nose, and his closed eyes, which, underneath his eyelids, were as dark as midnight, and seemed to touch her very soul.
The scars he bore on his body only added to his masculine attire; Aya shivered with pleasure when remembering the long nights they had spent together, and then a stab of fear touched her heart as she remembered how sick she had been these past few mornings. Tenderly she touched her breasts; did they seem fuller, or swollen? She didn’t know much about pregnancy, but had once heard
E
lf women talk about the symptoms. Had she and Villid crossed the line for good? Had they created a child? Aya wasn’t a fool, and she of course knew that the nights in Villid’s arms wouldn’t be without sacrifice, but was it even possible for an
Elf and a Tyran to breed?
The sudden knock on the door made her jump. She froze for a moment, then sighed, feeling foolish. She tucked the covers around the sleeping Villid and went to open the door.
“Good morning, Aya!” said Navin
happily; he was dressed in a black tunic and boots. “Hello, Navin.
” Aya replied; Navin’s smile was infectious. Navin let himself in the room,
saw that the beds had been pushed together, frowned slightly, and then shrugged
and turned to Aya.
“What are we going to do today?” he asked excitedly. “I’ve been practising using my sword, and I almost got the middle of the target when I threw my dagger, and guess what, guess what? I’ve been trying with arrows too, and spears...”
“Navin, look at the weather,” said Aya gently, “The storm’s blown over. Villid and I must start our journey today.”
“Oh.” Navin’s face fell.
Villid suddenly shifted on the bed and his eyes flickered open. “Oh no.” he grunted, seeing Navin. Navin gave a nervous, high-pitched laugh. “Hello, Villid.” he said nervously. Villid grinned, then looked at Aya. “Are you all right?” he asked.
“Hm? Yes, I’m fine,” Aya forced a smile. “I was just saying to Navin how the weather’s cleared up now, so we can leave today.”
Villid nodded. “Then let’s pack.” he said.

Acotas the stallion greeted Aya and Villid with a friendly snort as they approached the stables with their bags of clothes and weapons. Most of the food had gone bad, but they still had a few bags of ale.
“We’ll have to buy more herbs and meat,” said Aya. She beckoned Acotas out of the stables; the horse looked well-fed and groomed, and butted Aya gently with his head.
“Fine horse you’ve got there,” said an old human, following them out of the stables. “I’ve kept his coat shining and his stomach full,” he gave them a wizened, toothless smile. He was old and bent, wore brown braces, and was almost completely bald except the odd patch of silver hair above his ears. He watched them expectantly, the mechanical smile on his mouth never wavering.
“Oh, right,” grunted Villid, understanding. He rustled in one of the bags, and brought out a handful of human coins. He thrust them into the old human’s outstretched hand.
“Thank you, kind sir.” he wheezed, and waddled off back to the stables.
“Humans,” Villid shook his head impatiently.
They approached the gateway to Fort Valour, which as usual was a large crack in the rock wall, with several guards standing either side of it. “The storm has finally blown over,” said Percival as they approached it. He looked oddly disgruntled. “You can
leave.”
“Just a moment,” said Aya, “We’ll leave soon – we need to get some more food.”
They left Acotas and the bags near the entrance, Villid first taking out most of the human coins and several old weapons to trade, and turned back towards the market, near the centre of town. It was the first sunny day in weeks and the town looked much fuller than usual. As they approached the square they now knew so well, where the stalls of food always sat, they saw a large crowd near the gate to the Tyran village, and voices shouting.
“What’s going on?” asked Navin curiously.
“Who cares?” Villid said gruffly, eyeing the food stalls.
“Didn’t you hear what we just said, Tyran? The forest village has been destroyed!” screamed a voice in the crowd.
Aya froze, and turned to stare at the people. They mostly consisted of
Elves, some in rags and some in fine robes, facing a group of young-looking Tyrans working at their stalls.
“We had nothing to do with it!” a Tyran voice roared.
“Why would you destroy the Elven village?” an E
lf woman shouted. “That was the last place outside Fort Valour where
Elves lived! We have never done anything to harm you!”
“Neither have we!” said the Tyran indignantly. “Most of us were born here, the same as you! Why would we want to destroy your homeland?”
“Because you’re greedy, destructive monsters!” an Elf screamed. A ripple of anger ran through the Tyran crowd. Several Tyrans started shouting.
“The village is in ruins! No one would attack the last
Elven village except a Tyran army!” a man shouted, and the other Elves cheered in agreement.
“That may be, but we had nothing to do with it!” the Tyrans shouted angrily.
“And if you ask me,” said a Tyran, “You Elves are all so up yourselves that at least someone saw the sense to take you down a few pegs!”
Anger crackled through the E
lf crowd. Several
Elves ran towards the Tyrans; some Knabi and humans got between them, glancing at both crowds helplessly.
“They found out,” Aya whispered, clutching at Villid. “How did they find out?”
Navin went pale. “What’s going to happen?” he asked.
“Look at us!” a Tyran roared, pulling off his shirt. “Tyran warriors have numbers branded across their chest at birth! Look at me! Look at all of my Tyran brothers and sisters! We were born here, I tell you! We are not soldiers!”
“Then whoever does have numbers on them is a traitor!” an Elf shouted. “I’ll bet you’re letting Tyrans from the outside live with you, Tyrans who destroyed our homeland! We all know that the Tyrans have been thirsting for power for years!”
The Tyrans and the Elves suddenly all started shouting. Villid and Aya stared at each other. “Let’s hurry.” he said, and they started to walk in the opposite direction.
“Hold it!” shouted some Elves and Tyrans behind them. Aya was pushed out of the way as they grabbed Villid’s arms. “Take off your shirt!” a Tyran roared.
“Let go of me!” said Villid angrily, pushing away the surrounding Tyrans.
They started to rip at his shirt. “Leave him alone!” Aya shouted, pushing people out of the way to get to Villid. Loud screams of anger suddenly pierced the air as Aya saw Villid’s shirt being thrown to the ground.
“Look!” a Tyran shouted, pointing to Villid’s chest. “Six-one-two-seven! So you’re from Xentar, Tyran!”
Elves and Tyrans all pushed their way through to get to Villid, and angry shouts rippled through the crowd. “Guilty!” an
Elf woman screeched. “You destroyed our village! Go on! You did, didn’t you?”
“He didn’t! He didn’t!” Aya screamed desperately, pushing through the crowd and getting to Villid. “He didn’t do it! Yes, he’s from Xentar, but he’s my friend! Please!”
“Well?” a Tyran roared, ignoring her. Villid said nothing, but bowed his head. He couldn’t deny it, even with poor Aya begging next to him. As much as he could deny it, he had helped the Tyrans destroy the
E
lven village. He had killed innocent
Elves, let his Tyran companions burn cottages and towers, helped ambush innocent people...
“The guilt on his face says it all!” an Elf yelled, and shouts of triumph echoed around the square.
“He must die!” shouted an Elf.
“Punish him!” screamed another.
“He can’t be allowed to live!” the Tyran holding Villid roared. Villid struggled, but several more Tyrans grabbed him, and he couldn’t move.
“Let me go!” he shouted angrily.
“Let him go!” Aya sobbed. “Villid! Villid! Please!” she grabbed at people’s clothes, pummelled them with her fists, but no one listened to her.
Villid was dragged towards the centre of town. Fists and feet rained on him as angry E
lves hit him, kicked him, spat on him. Angry shouts and yells drowned out Villid’s voice
as pain ripped through his body; he felt as if he were being split in two as Tyrans pulled his arms and dragged him through the city streets.
“Get off me!” he shouted, but no one could hear him; he felt his voice growing weaker. All he could see were the angry, disgusted faces of Tyrans and
E
lves as pain rippled through him. He was suddenly thrown to the floor, and the crowd stood around him. Pain exploded in his eye as someone kicked him fiercely in his face. Above everything, he thought he could hear Aya crying, screaming for them to stop, but no one would. He felt around his waist for his daggers, his back for his weapons, but someone had taken them from him; he was powerless; he struggled to get to his feet but everything felt heavy, and he fell back to the ground, sand and dust covering his skin. Shapes swam above him and the bright sun shone down on them all; it looked as if the black silhouettes of monsters were ripping at him, like from his darkest nightmares. The
E
lves and Tyrans were still kicking him, hitting him, spitting on him; he covered his head with his arms as he felt his strength ebbing away. Somewhere, he thought he saw someone pick up a large rock. So he was to meet the same fate as his mother; killed for being the only one to dare to love. Shots of pain ran over his body as people scratched at his skin, kicked him, always shouting, screaming; and was that laughing? Someone was enjoying seeing him humiliated, punished for something he regretted more than anything
else in the world...
“Villid! No!” Aya sobbed, and Villid felt warm, protective arms cover his body. Aya kissed his head, covering him. “Leave him alone!” she screamed.
“Silly girl! Get away from him!” someone shouted, and tried to pull her off him. “No!” Aya clutched at Villid. “You’ll have to kill me first!”
It was then that the whole city suddenly lit up with dazzling green light. The
Elves and the Tyrans pummelling Villid suddenly gasped, straightened up, and backed away.
“Lord Maajin!” someone gasped, and the Elves and the Tyrans collapsed. Aya looked round at them all in surprise; had they been struck dead? But they weren’t dead, they were kneeling on the floor with their heads bent, bowing.
“Villid?” Aya said, looking down at the Tyran she loved. He was covered in blood; his nose and his lip were bleeding freely, and large, fresh scratches covered his back. Villid’s good eye flickered slightly, and he whispered something. Aya brushed back some of his hair, crying quietly. “Oh, Villid,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry...”
“Villid and Aya, is it?” said a voice.
A young man stood above them, dressed in a long, grey cloak. His silver hair was brushed back
. His stern
eye not covered by the old eyepatch glared down at them, and he carried a long, black staff. It was the same man who had helped them escape the inn in Millnock – Maajin, the mage.
“Citizens of Fort Valour, you disgust me,” he said clearly, addressing the grovelling people around them. “For years you have lived here, at peace, contented with each other. Now I come here and see you torture a young Tyran! You are vile!”
“Lord Maajin,” said an Elf, “this Tyran destroyed the Elven village.” “Silence!” Maajin snapped, “What is the rule in Fort Valour? Anybody is welcome here, despite his past actions. You have all been in violation of this rule!” a silence rang through the crowd. “Villid, Aya,” said Maajin. “Come with me.”
“I... I don’t know if he’s...” Aya cried.
“He’s unconscious,” said Maajin, eyeing Villid. “You! Tyrans!” he suddenly snapped. “You two carry Villid. Come, Aya, we are going back to the inn.”
“Hey! Wait for me!” said a voice, and they saw Navin running towards them, tripping over people who were still bowing to the mage. “I’m – I’m coming with you,” he gasped. “Aya, I’m sorry, I tried to help Villid, but... did he really destroy your village?”
“Here
is not the place to discuss it,” said Maajin. “You! Get back to your duties!” he snapped at the crowd, who sheepishly scrambled to their feet. Two young Tyrans grabbed Villid as
they made their way back to Mical’s inn.
“Thank you so much,” Aya said to Maajin. The mage limped slightly, leaning on his staff to walk, his stern eyes staring straight ahead. “You’re Maajin, correct? The man who helped us back at Millnock?”
“Correct, although I’m not a man,” Maajin said. “Mages and men are different, you will do well to remember that. Is this your inn?”
They entered Mical’s inn; Mical accepted them without comment, but stared as the two Tyrans carried the unconscious Villid to the nearest room. They all ushered inside, the Tyrans laid Villid on the bed, and Maajin the mage dismissed them.
“I have never seen such disgusting behaviour in Fort Valour before.
” Maajin shook his head.
Alicia, the human nurse, suddenly ran in.
“I heard the commotion and heard that someone had been hurt. An injured Tyran? What is it now, went too far with the training – Lord Maajin!” she suddenly gasped, and kneeled on the floor, her head bent. “How you honour us with your presence!”
“Yes, yes,” said Maajin impatiently. “Please tend to the Tyran.”
Aya gripped Villid’s large hand in hers, no longer caring who saw. “Wake up, Villid,” she whispered, as the tears hit the stone floor.
“He’ll be all right.”
said Alicia, examining a wound on Villid’s head. Villid’s dark eyes fluttered and
he mumbled something.
“I’m here.” Aya sobbed.
Maajin gazed down at Villid, his steel grey eyes narrowed in thought. “As soon as he is fit to travel, we will leave,” he
said swiftly to Aya. “Tomorrow at dawn, if possible.”
Aya nodded, wiping her face. Villid mumbled something else.
“Shh, now,” whispered Alicia, pulling some bandages from her sleeve and tending to the many wounds on Villid’s body.
“Is there anything I can do to help?” Aya asked her desperately.
Alicia gave her a gentle
, sad smile. It transformed her usually stern face into one of motherly kindness. “It is rare I see an
Elf care so much for a Tyran,” she said softly. “Don’t worry, Aya, I’m
sure Villid will be all right.
But whilst you’re here, you’re in my way.”
“I understand,
” Aya nodded. She glanced at Villid. Fresh bruises
were already beginning to spring over his body, the blood on his head still dripped down his cheek, and his eye looked battered and swollen. “Don’t give up,” she whispered, and leaned in close. She heard Navin sniff behind her as she pressed her lips to Villid’s cheek.