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“And your Seer,” Perra paused. “He is no more.”
“Yes,” Villid said, more quietly, and clenched his fists. “He was killed.”
“Indeed. I see the shadow of treachery on his death,” Perra whispered, her large eyes fluttering slightly, as if remembering a distant memory.
“Our tribe’s chief killed him,” said Villid. “And blamed me.”
“And now you’re an outcast of your people,” Perra murmured, barely more than a whisper.
“Yes.”
The Chieftain leaned forward, almost off his chair, his wrinkled face suddenly stern. “What do you want from Vallahan?” he asked. “It’s not every day Perra talks to strange travellers, never mind a Tyran.”
Villid explained how the Seers had come to him and Aya, and how they had been told of the growing threat of the Darkma. “I need soldiers to join the army against them.” said Villid finally, casting his gaze from the Chieftain’s face to the Seer’s. Her round face was filled with worry.
The Chieftain leaned back again, then clicked his fingers. A short Knabi guard carrying a large circular tray came bounding over, his long cloak blowing behind him. He bowed low, whisked a goblet from the tray and laid it onto the arm of the Chieftain’s throne, his head still bent. Not taking his eyes off Villid, the Chieftain took a long drink from the goblet and wiped his lips, which were slightly stained with wine.
“Vallahan is a home to thousands of Knabi,” he grunted. “I can’t just give away soldiers. The threat of the Darkma is on our doorstep too, as you saw on your way here.”
“My lord, this Tyran speaks the truth,” said the Seer gently.
“The army is to defeat the Darkma,” said Villid impatiently. “I don’t even need them right away – once I get a promise from the rest of the races, then we will gather the armies and make a frontal assault on them.”
“The rest of the races?” the chief repeated. “Tell me boy – how much influence does a Tyran, a Knabi teen, an Elf and a half-breed have over lords and Chiefs?”
“More, hopefully, with your help,” said Villid, clenching his teeth. “The more support we have, the more support we can gain. Please,” he added, taking a step toward the
Chieftain. “This affects you just as much as it affects us. The Darkma will get stronger and overrun the land if we don’t put a stop to them.”
The Chieftain leaned back, stroking his beard and frowning. He looked at Perra. “Show me.” he commanded. Slowly the Seer nodded.
Two Knabi marched over carrying a wide, shallow clay bowl full of water and laid it at Perra’s feet. Villid approached it slowly, and the Chieftain got to his feet to take a better look at the bowl. Perra took her long, white staff and slowly dipped it into the water. The water instantly turned a blinding bright red; Villid shielded his eyes for a moment, gasping in surprise. The Knabi chief stared intently at the water, a determined frown on his face as he concentrated on the swirling colours in the bowl.
The colours formed into blurred shapes of a crowd of Knabi, all running in the same direction. Villid instantly recognised the black-armoured, monstrous Darkma as they pillaged Vallahan; the images changed to the temple in which they stood at that very moment, half-destroyed and burning… then they saw a huge, blackened tree, hundreds and hundreds of bodies hanging from it… Knabi, Elves, humans, Dwarves and more,
hung
or impaled onto the branches. The bowl shook slightly and Villid glanced at Perra’s face; her eyes had widened in horror as she clutched at her staff. The image changed again; trees, mountains, hills and fields were burning, Darkma screaming in triumph
as the land they knew turned to a fractured wasteland. A fierce dragon appeared in the reddened sky, thick black scales covering its body, a huge gaping jaw with hundreds of jagged teeth. Its huge wings and spiky tail whipped through the air as it opened its great jaws; blood-red fire spurted out of its mouth and burned the land around it. The Seer suddenly gave a cry and pulled the staff from the water and the image disappeared; Perra fell back onto the ground and the Knabi guards ran to her. “My lady, are you all right?” said one of the guards. She didn’t answer, but looked up slowly; her grey eyes met Villid’s dark ones and her lip quivered. “The dragon,” she whispered. “The demigod.”
The Chieftain had gripped his own chin so tightly that he’d left a red mark around his beard. His own eyes were wide, and a strange frown stuck on his face.
“You see,” said Villid, who realised his own breath had quickened; the image of the evil-looking dragon seemed to penetrate his mind, its emerald, merciless eyes drilling into his. “Help us in the battle against the Darkma, or what you saw just now might happen. Or worse.”
Perra had been helped to her feet. She seemed to regain some self-control, although her face betrayed her feelings; her eyes were wide and scared, her fingers shook slightly as she gripped her staff. “We must help him,” she said eventually. “There is no way we can allow this to happen. The demigod cannot be allowed to exist. Father!” she
snapped; the Chieftain jumped and looked at her as if seeing her clearly for the first time.
“A demigod?” Villid asked. “Is that the Darkma god?”
“No,” said Perra, gesturing for Villid to sit down. “The Darkma god died a long time ago. Or so the legend goes. A demigod is something far worse. It is created by very complicated dark magic… I don’t know if this demigod yet exists… I imagine not.”
The chief glared at them both, before his face slowly turned away from the bowl of water and back to Villid. Very slowly, he nodded. “Very well,” he said. “I have seen it with my own eyes. This is a very real problem for all of us. You will get your soldiers, Tyran,” the chief leaned back. “If you do something for me first.”
“Father,” Perra scolded. “Have you not heard anything I’ve said?”
“I have indeed, my daughter,” said the Chieftain. “But these are dangerous times. I cannot just give this Tyran soldiers. He must do something for me – something that will benefit us both, my boy,” he added, looking at Villid.
“Whatever it is, I’ll do it.” said Villid determinedly. He had come this far, after all.
“Far to the north, in the mountains, there live the Vrana, the mountain people
,” said the Chieftain. “It won’t be long now before they hold their battle tournament against the Dwarves. It is a friendly competition, but the tournament is dangerous. I’m sure the Tyrans have their own battle
arenas.”
“Yes,” said Villid.
“The best of the best will be there,” said the chief. “This would be the perfect chance for you to get your Dwarf soldiers as well as your
Vrana
soldiers. I have papers – treaties – that you need to collect from the mountain people.”
“I need proof that you’ve sent me,” said Villid at once.
“Of course you do,” the chief snorted rudely. “You can’t just go walking in demanding important legal documents. I will write a letter for you, as the
Knabi seal is recognised by most. We have very good dealings with the
Vrana as well as the Dwarves – after you collect these treaties, you may have as many soldiers as you like.”
As the Chieftain spoke, the Knabi cleared away the bowl of water and hurried over to the throne with a large scroll and a quill. “Show this to the
Vrana
Elders,” he ordered, scribbling furiously. “We Knabi have a peaceful relationship with them, and they have a strong army. Do this, and
when you come back, you can have as many soldiers as you need. You have my word.”
Villid silently took the scroll, which the Chief had stamped closed with a large symbol; a bronze eagle. Imitating the surrounding guards, he bowed low to the Chieftain, and then to Perra, the Seer. “I will be back,” he promised. “I’ll leave at sunrise, and get the treaties. Have soldiers ready for when I come back.”
Perra gave him a kind smile, and even a small wave before Villid bowed again and turned to leave. He marched out of the palace and into the sunlight, the Chieftain’s letter clutched tightly in his hand.
 

“I’ll leave in the morning,” said Villid, standing in the doorway of Aya’s tent. The sun had set less than twenty minutes ago, and the red sky
had
turned inky-black. A dim lantern sat on Aya’s bedside table, filling the room with a soft yellow glow. Her hair fanned out on her white pillow, the light reflecting in her eyes as she gave him a tired smile. “I’ll miss you,” she whispered.
Slowly he approached her bed, their eyes locked, a soft smile creeping on her lips as he gently sat next to her and laid his hand on her face. “I’ll miss you too,” he smiled. He could feel the walls tumbling down; the cold, emotionless mask he had always been taught to wear slipping away as she entwined her fingers in his and guided him to lie down beside her. He wrapped his arms around her and held her close, breathing in her soft, sweet-smelling hair, sadness filling him as the realisation that he wouldn’t see her for a while sunk into his heart.
She kissed him on the tip of his nose and giggled quietly, he couldn’t help smiling back. He adored the feeling of her arms round him, the feeling of her slim, delicate body against his.
“I love you.” he said, kissing her on the forehead.
She stroked his arm softly. “What are we going to do about this baby, Villid?” she whispered, fear apparent in her voice.
He didn’t answer at first, but stroked her arm softly. “Nothing, for now,” he said eventually.

Villid awoke to the sound of voices and general early morning bustle outside the tent. His arms were still wrapped round Aya,
who was sleeping soundly. Her breathing was slow and steady, her head resting on his chest, looking perfect and content. Slowly he untangled himself from her, and she stirred and opened her eyes. “Don’t leave,” she said sleepily.
“I’ll be back soon,” he said, cupping her face in his hands. “In the meantime, take care of yourself. I’ll have Navin and Morque watch over you.”
A bowl of water lay on the floor and his armour lay smartly on the chair next to the bed; perhaps a nurse had come in the night. He quickly bathed, got dressed, kissed Aya on her forehead, and left the tent. The cold morning air hit his face and he instantly felt refreshed. A few Knabi glanced nervously at him as he stood tall, dressed in his dark armour, knives at his belt, and his axe and sword crossed at his back.
“Villid!” called Morque, who strolled up to him. “You’re leaving, I see.”
Villid grunted. “Take care of Aya whilst I’m gone,” he replied. “What about you? You’re staying in Vallahan.”
“It looks like I don’t have a choice. Someone needs to take care of the Elf. The boy can’t do much,” Morque’s harsh face curled into a half-smile. “But he cares.”
Villid nodded, feeling relieved that Morque was staying, at least for now. “Thank you for everything,” he said, slapping Morque on the arm. “For fighting off those Darkma in the forest. I should have been there, but…”
Morque quietened him with a wave of his hand. “No problem at all, brother,” he gave a grin. “Repay with some ale when you get back?”
Villid laughed. “Take care of her.” he smiled. “And the baby, too!” Morque called after him, raising his eyebrows knowingly.
The stables rounded a corner into a quiet street that ran alongside the tall, stone wall that separated the city from the outside. Knabi guards were at the top of the walls, some sitting, some standing. One or two nodded politely to Villid as he walked by.
A few horses sat in the stables, and some neighed quietly in the hope of a carrot. It didn’t take long for Villid to find Acotas, who was larger than the rest of the horses. Two Knabi were standing close to Villid’s stallion, one petting his silk-soft nose and the other preparing the saddle. The stables were dark, and at first Villid didn’t realise who it was. As he drew closer, however, he recognised Navin. The other person was Yanil, his sister.
“Villid,” said Navin sadly as he approached them. “I didn’t know if you’d left yet, so I’ve been waiting here since dawn.”
“Hello, Villid,” Yanil waved to him. He nodded to her, and reached out to pat Acotas’ neck. The stallion neighed
softly in response. “Are you all right, Navin?” Villid asked, seeing the young boy’s eyes fill with tears.
“He’ll be okay,” Yanil said before Navin could respond. “So where are you going?”
“Shut up, Yanil,” Navin snapped. “Villid… good luck. We’ll look after Aya.”
Villid packed up the horse and led him out of the stables. Acotas snorted in pleasure as the sunlight and fresh breeze hit them when they ventured outside. “My thanks,” Villid muttered at the stable-boy, and handed him a few Knabi coins. The stable-boy gave a toothy smile and bowed politely before scuttling away. Yanil and Navin watched Villid as he climbed onto Acotas.
“Don’t look so upset. I’ll be back before you know it,” Villid smiled at Navin, who was frowning, “make sure Aya is okay. And take care of yourself, too.”
“We will,” Navin replied, and bowed low to Villid. “Have a safe trip.” Villid felt a great sadness as the gates to the Knabi city opened. It felt odd not to have Aya sitting with him on the stallion. To know he was leaving her gave him a strange ache in his heart that he hadn’t felt before. Looking back at the road that led to her tent, he whispered into the wind, “Goodbye, my love,” and bucked the horse forward.
“It’s just you and me for a while, Acotas.” Villid said, trying to sound cheerful as he patted the horse’s neck. The autumn sun shone brightly above them, but there was a
cold bite in the air. Winter was rapidly approaching. The journey north was not something he was looking forward to. He had travelled in terrible weather countless times before, but the notion of leaving Aya behind filled him with dread. He couldn’t help but feel that she would be safer by his side, but this was just selfishness, he knew. Vallahan was as safe a place as any, and that both Navin and Morque would protect her with all their strength. They had proven that already.

The steps sloped downwards to the valley towards the forest. The wind blew towards the north; it would be behind him as he travelled. The stallion trotted down the stone steps. The wind howled above them, and the breeze felt cold against his skin. His eyes scanned the area in search of Darkma. The morning sun, bright and gleaming in the cloudless sky, would have betrayed any signs of enemies, but all was clear, and the trees around them rustled in the morning breeze. As they descended to the grass, Villid took one look back at the gate to Vallahan, the city carved into the mountain. The gate had already been closed behind him, and it almost looked as if
one wasn’t
there at all. He gave a slow, heavy sigh, turned back towards the road, and slammed his heels into Acotas’ sides. The horse reacted instantly and took off into a gallop, his strong legs pounding the ground as they sped past the forest where they had seen the Elves, and along the grassy path towards the north. Without his companions and the
extra weight, Acotas shot across the terrain with ease. Villid gripped the reins and concentrated on the road ahead, constantly on alert for any signs of danger. He couldn’t help but appreciate the beauty around him; having been stuck between long, narrow cliffs for days and then inside a strange city, it felt good to be back in the open space, and away from everybody else. He was leaving the cliffs behind him as they travelled past the mountains from which they had come. The road descended slowly, and he could see miles of land stretched ahead
of them. He pulled at the rei
ns and Acotas stopped. The bright sun gleamed down at the world below; to the north-east he could see the outskirts of the Elven forest stretched for miles like a green ocean. Villid felt oddly nostalgic as he gazed at the trees now so far away; some of them had started to turn brown or orange, changing for the coming colder season. He could see miles of flatter land, small towns here and there, one of them he was sure must be Millnock, the town where he and Aya had stayed all those months ago, and had first met the mage who had helped them this far. The view was like a painting; he could see hills, rivers, trees and towns below him, twisted roads and pathways, and dotted buildings, either alone or in groups.
And on the horizon were huge, black, snow-tipped mountains, shrouded in morning mist. Villid’s glance took him back to the eastern forest and he wondered fleetingly where the Tyrans could be right now. Were they back in
their homeland, Xentar, training and fighting and building as they had been before Shade had taken a handful of the tribe on the pointless quest? Were they still searching for Villid, for a crime he didn’t commit? And what about Swift, his brother? He had let him go…
Acotas gave a nervous snort and Villid was snapped back into reality. He instantly put his hand on his sword, alert for danger. But it wasn’t Darkma or Tyrans. Villid had been so absorbed by the view that he hadn’t seen just how steeply the road ahead descended. If he hadn’t stopped so suddenly, they would have gone tumbling down the cliff.
It stretched downwards as jagged, uneven mountainside. Villid descended Acotas and studied the cliff close by. The grassy pathway he had just followed suddenly stopped and sloped downwards, but it was not a completely vertical cliff. It was possible to descend, and although it would be slow, dangerous work, it would be much faster than going back through the narrow cliffs and forest back towards Fort Valour.
He carefully edged along at the top of the mountain, trying to find a less steep part where he and Acotas could begin their descent. It was frustrating to have such a clear roadway towards the northern mountains, and to be stopped by the mountainside like this. He was determined to find a way down.
He understood now why they had taken the winding, narrow, rocky roads to Vallahan. The cliff was impossible
to climb up, perhaps only skilled climbers could scale the mountain. But as he studied each dip, each stone and angle, he felt more and more certain that a descent may be possible. And if he reached the bottom, this way would shave days, perhaps weeks, from his journey.
Along the Cliffside, Villid saw a battered signpost very close to the edge of the cliff. He didn’t know why he expected to understand it; he couldn’t read it, but he recognised the slanted, curled writing of the Knabi language. It was here that he felt he understood – this was the take-off point, the place where Knabi first learned to use their wings in the famous flying test. So Navin had failed here… how in Theldiniya had Navin managed to survive the inevitable fall down
the rocky cliff side?
As he stared at the sign, a shadow suddenly fell on Villid for a moment. Heart thumping, he unsheathed his weapons as he heard the flap of wings and a thump as two feet touched the ground.
“Hello.”
Villid swivelled round, and he recognised the Knabi girl who stood in front of him, her great wings sliding back into her back. It was Navin’s older sister, Yanil.
“You shouldn’t sneak up on people like that.” Villid snapped, feeling foolish as he sheathed his sword and axe to his back.
“Are you trying to get down the cliff?” she asked, as if she hadn’t noticed his tone. Her eyes were very wide. Villid
thought it was slightly obvious, but bit back a sarcastic remark and said, “Is it possible?”
“I know I can get down.”
she said smugly, and spread her large, brown wings, which stretched several metres. She flapped expertly, rose into the air, and shot down the cliff, quick as lightning. It was several seconds before she rose back up again and landed smoothly right in front of Villid, giving him a strange smile, as if expecting him to be awestruck.
“That’s very impressive, but it doesn’t really help my situation.” he said coldly. Her smile vanished, and she glared at him. “I could tell you how to get down,” she snapped, “Or I could just leave.”
“Goodbye, then.”
he said impatiently, and turned round to examine the cliff once more. She made an irritated noise, but didn’t leave. Villid ignored her, and started to stride across the cliff edge.
“I’m sorry, Villid,” she called quickly, running after him. “I’ll tell you how to get down.”
“Make up your mind,” he sighed, wondering how he could have met someone more annoying than Navin. It must run in the family.
“There,” she pointed at a deep crack in the rocky cliff that looked no different to any other part of the mountainside. She took Villid’s arm, which he hadn’t been expecting. He flinched slightly, but reluctantly let Yanil guide him several steps to the right. It was there that he saw it.
The crack was indeed a crevice in the cliff, but it opened up slightly to a passageway that led downwards. Inside the crevice was the opening to a cave, protected from the weather by the cliff, and clearly only visible from the spot where he and Yanil were stood at that very moment.
“It’ll take you down by the river, to a safer spot,” she said, still clutching his arm. “It’s big enough for the horse too.”
“Thanks.” he grunted, and shook his arm until her grip loosened and her hand fell to her side. She gave a pout and said “Almost no one knows about that passageway.”
Villid didn’t know how to answer. He took Acotas’ reins and fixed his eye on the passageway. It looked as if he and the horse would both be able to access it by going up the mountain slightly first, and then descending along where the crevice began.
Along with Acotas’ four hooves and his own heavy footsteps, as he walked he could hear the patter of two more feet following his path. Thinking she would turn round soon, he edged slowly along the cliff side, holding the horse’s reins, and concentrating on their footing. He’d gotten close to the crevice – it looked as if rough stone steps
–
whether natural or built, Villid couldn’t tell – descended to where the cave began. It looked wide enough for Acotas to just be able to make it down.
Yanil was walking so close behind him that he could almost feel her shoes tapping his ankles.
“What are you doing?” he asked impatiently.
“Let me go with you.”
“No.” said Villid immediately.
“I showed you the passageway!” she cried indignantly.
“You’re not coming with me.” he stated shortly, still examining the steps. “You’ll slow me down.”
Slowly he guided Acotas down the odd, uneven steps, descending a few first himself and then guiding the stallion down step by step. Acotas followed obediently, carefully manoeuvring his hooves for a safe decline.
“You let the Elf travel with you,” said Yanil obstinately. “She looks pretty slow to me.”
Villid exhaled loudly through his nose, getting more and more agitated. “Go back to the city,” he ordered. “If you want to help, take care of Navin.”
He was going to say Aya, but something kept him from speaking her name to Yanil. “He’s your brother.” he added, somewhat lamely, and busied himself with one of Acotas’ bags, tying it more tightly to the saddle to avoid looking at her.
“Fine.” she retorted, and turned on her heel and left. Villid let out a long sigh and patted Acotas’ neck. He gave an ironic
laugh. “What a frightful woman.” he said, half to himself, half to the horse, and took Acotas further towards the cave in the cliff.
The excursion through the mountain was tough, steep and uncomfortable. Villid felt he had underestimated the height of the hill that they were descending. The cave
mouth opened to a tall but narrow passageway that turned back into the mountain, like a mine. The tunnel was wide enough for Villid and Acotas, but now and then it suddenly sloped downwards, or became narrow so that he and the horse had to walk in single file. The cliff around them was like a cocoon, protecting them from sight, but translucent with cracks, letting sunlight penetrate the cave enough for Villid to be able to grope around in gloomy half-light. Acotas gave a disgruntled snort now and then, his hooves clopping on the hard rock. It was slow work with the horse, and Villid felt the hours slip by as he made what felt like little progress. Growing more and more impatient with the twisting passageway, he thought of turning back, but the thought of struggling back up the tunnel sounded far more gruelling than continuing the descent.
After what felt like a lifetime in the passage, Villid’s stomach rumbled loudly. He had no idea how far down the mountainside they were, or where they would end up when they finally came out the other side. Whenever he came to a corner, he hoped it might be the last one, but disappointment filled him yet again when more of the gloomy tunnel stretched before him.
Another hour ticked by, and Villid was starting to feel hopeless. He unpacked a bag of seed and set it in front of Acotas, and unpacked some food for himself too. Chewing nuts and dried fruit, Villid fleetingly thought how he looked forward to hunting wild animals once more; he missed the
smell of cooking meat above a crackling fire. However, he seemed to have developed a taste for fruit, leaves, nuts and herbs – he felt an odd sense of comfort as he ate, thinking of Aya. He wondered if she was all right, and then shook himself – she had Navin and Morque to take care of her. He knew Navin would try his best, and he felt sure that Morque would tend to her needs. Villid had only been away from the Elf girl for several hours, and yet he already ached to hold her.
“Just a little further,” he sighed, finishing his meal, packing the bags and continuing the journey through the mountain. He felt as though he would be glad to fight a pack of Darkma rather than spend one more minute in the cave. To his dismay, the cave seemed to be getting darker. He wondered if he would end up in complete shadow, and have to end up feeling his way along in the dark.
He had grown used to checking for dips in the tunnel, and running his hand along the cave wall, his thoughts went back to the woman he had left behind in Vallahan. Aya, it seemed, was the only thing that kept him sane nowadays. He had been exiled from his tribe for a crime he didn’t commit, and yet with Aya, he felt he could live with it, although revenge still burned in his heart for Shade – not just because Villid had been framed, but for the cruel murder of the Seer, who had tried to do nothing but good. Villid wondered if his name would ever be cleared, or if he would be hunted forever. That’s if they were even still
looking for him.
What was the Elven village like now? Had Shade built a base, as he had said, or had the victorious tribe left the burning ruins and returned to Xentar? He supposed it didn’t matter now. He thought of the task ahead of him – it seemed almost impossible. Even if he found the people that dwelled in the famous peaks that lay to the north, tipped with snow, fog and hail, would they listen to him? He was unsure of how powerful a Knabi scroll signed by the Chieftain was in those parts. Still, he had to try. The growing threat of the Darkma affected everyone, including himself and Aya. If he couldn’t do it, he would die trying.
An odd noise besides his and Acotas’s footsteps was slowly getting louder. It sounded like roaring, perhaps like a large fire – was there a furnace in this seemingly endless tunnel? Keeping one hand on the cliff wall and one clutching the reins, he urged forward, and suddenly saw daylight.
Relief flooded him, and he patted the horse gladly. The roaring noise was much louder now, and seemed to be coming from the end of the passageway. It was consistent and loud, almost deafening as they reached the end of the cave. It wasn’t until Villid reached the hole of the tunnel, and cold droplets of water sprayed his skin, that he realised.
They had come out behind a great waterfall, roaring as it battered the rocks beneath it, a huge curtain of water that hid them and the cave from sight. Water trickled out of a rock behind them, creating an ankle-deep stream that
joined the waterfall ahead. The ice-cold spray felt extremely refreshing after the muggy gloom of the cave, and he enjoyed the sensation, breathing in the cool air, watching the thundering tower of water crash down along the mountainside. He heard several small splashes; Acotas had buried his mouth in the stream and was gulping the fresh water down thankfully. Villid bent down and washed his face and neck, smiling to himself and silently thanking Yanil.