Unknown (29 page)

At first he feared that he and Acotas may have to try and go through the waterfall. Surely they’d both be killed if they tried to push through the roaring curtain of falling water?
Villid and Acotas approached the waterfall. On the left, Villid spotted several patches of grass. It was a small pathway on the side of the mountain, avoiding most of the torrent of water and leading onto the mountainside. He let Acotas drink, filled up his flask with the ice-cold mountain water, and then led the horse towards the pathway. The waterfall’s torrent was much less strong on the grassy path, but he and the horse were still soaked by the time they had edged around the bend and reached the mountainside. They had come out near the bottom of the mountain; they were still on a cliff, but much further down than before. The view was still just as beautiful, the sun setting over the mountains where he would ultimately be going, casting an orange glow over the rest of the land stretching before him.
Villid didn’t think he had seen such a beautiful sight. The leaves on the trees around him were turning from green into a pale gold, and he saw several birds land on the branches, ready to rest for the night. The towns miles away were glowing, no doubt by warm fires crackling in hearths, warming families in the otherwise cold evening. The sun would be down soon.
Villid knew that the dark wasn’t safe anymore, and without having someone to keep watch, Villid didn’t want to sleep and make himself vulnerable. However, the pathway was narrow and dangerous, virtually impossible to cross in the darkness. So, reluctantly, he and Acotas backed through the path under the waterfall once more. Acotas neighed in annoyance as the water splashed him again, and backed into the stream noisily. Villid felt much safer here, and although the roar of the waterfall was almost deafening, he felt as if he and his horse were sheltered from danger.
Although Acotas had been drenched by the waterfall, the bags had kept the blankets and food dry, much to Villid’s relief. He took off his satchel and set it in the mouth of the cave passageway. Acotas climbed into the cave and settled into it, as if understanding that they would be there for a while. “Stay here,” he told the stallion, feeling somehow sure that Acotas could understand everything he said. “I’ll get firewood.”
Struggling back out of the waterfall, Villid searched for fallen branches and bits of wood on the grassy
mountainside. It was easy to find his way back to the waterfall; in the dusk the tower of water could always be heard, if not seen. By the time Villid gathered enough wood into his arms, it was almost completely dark. The sun winked at him from behind the mountains, and then disappeared, leaving a purple-black sky above him. Shivering slightly with the cold, Villid crunched through the grass and back to the waterfall, which was lit up with moonlight, its powerful torrent crashing down the mountain. When he had edged through the gap between water and rock and finding the cave hole, he saw Acotas’ large black eyes greet him. It wasn’t long before Villid had started a fire with the twigs and dry leaves he had collected, and the cave mouth was lit with a warm, flickering orange. The smoke blew into the wider cave ahead, and Villid unpacked a large piece of cloth and dried Acotas’ legs with it. After that, he set up his bedding and curled up on the uncomfortable cave floor. He felt empty without Aya beside him, and his virtually uneventful day had left him wide awake and agitated. The hours slipped by and he watched the flames slowly die down until they were nothing but glowing ash. He had grown used to the waterfall’s never ending roar, and he could hear his stallion’s slow, deep breathing as it slept. Thoughts of Aya entered Villid’s mind and he felt comforted, although sleeping without her close felt oddly lonely. He glanced at Acotas, and wondered for what felt like the hundredth time
where the horse had come from. It seemed to be much larger and more powerful than the usual stable ponies he had seen in the villages. The humans they had found in the forest had said they had stolen it – but from who, and from where?
The horse seemed to be intelligent; Villid was not particularly fond of horses, but he felt it had been a great companion, and it was someone to talk to and be with on the long road ahead. Acotas seemed to understand what he was saying. He was glad, at least, that he had Acotas, and not another horse.
Villid turned over. The cave was warm with the fire and he felt tiredness finally washing over him. His thoughts flitted to the long journey ahead, and felt more determined than ever to hurry with his errand and return to Vallahan where Aya could be with him once more.

Terrible nightmares haunted Villid’s dreams that night. Darkma covered every corner of the land, lurking in the shadows, attacking everyone they saw, burning towns and leaving nothing but desolate, broken wasteland in their wake. In his dreams, the Darkma were more powerful, more terrible, and more destructive than ever, in armies of thousands, unstoppable and unforgiving. And that dragon… was it the Darkma demigod? It was restless and relentless, roaring in triumph and flooding the Earth in fire, its huge wings covering the reddened sky. Villid tossed and turned in a restless and haunted sleep, eventually jumping awake in the early hours of the morning with panic throbbing through his body. It all seemed so real, and so close, as if the terrible fate was upon them already. Calmed slightly by the muffled but familiar sound of the waterfall and the rocky cave wall, he lay back down slowly, heart still racing, his head aching with troubled slumber. Unable to clear his mind enough to fall back asleep, he shifted out of the cave, pulled on his boots and stretched. The waterfall greeted him with its usual roaring torrent. Daylight seemed to be coming.
Acotas soon awoke, and seeing no reason to delay further, Villid packed his things, swept up the ash and threw it into the stream. He planned to cover many more miles today, to make up for making it barely a few miles from Vallahan
the day before. Villid fed Acotas several carrots and then guided him along the pathway and out of the waterfall cave.
The morning’s cloudless sky was a gentle, pale blue. Leaves scattered the pathway ahead that led around the mountainside and eventually down towards the land that still looked so far away. However, the path was much wider, and much less steep here. It would be slow work, but at least Villid and Acotas would have the refreshing morning air on their shoulders, instead of the gloom of a seemingly never ending cave passageway.
Villid hoisted the heavy satchel onto his back once more and they began to walk. It really was a beautiful morning, and despite the cold, Villid allowed himself to enjoy the pleasant weather as he and Acotas slowly descended the mountain. Who knew when he would have time to enjoy it again? Nevertheless, Villid kept a sharp eye out for enemies, whether it be Darkma, night prowlers, beasts or even other Tyrans. He was determined that he and Acotas make it safely to the mountains, and get back to Vallahan with the treaties as soon as possible. The bloodthirsty desire for battle didn’t run rampant in his veins as it had not so long ago – something inside him had changed, Villid knew. He thought about Shade, and Swift, and the Seer, and everything he had learned growing up about fighting, about killing, and about enjoying everything to do with battle. Now, Villid could fight, and he felt grateful as well as bitter about his upbringing, for it had taught him survival
skills that he would undoubtedly need his whole life, especially if the threat of the Darkma was as strong as he felt in his gut. But at the same time, now, he enjoyed peace – although trusting anyone was difficult, Villid had come to grow content with the life that he had tasted in Fort Valour – one of peace. And now that Aya was carrying his baby… Perhaps the Darkma battle would be over before the baby would be born, and he and Aya could try to be a family…
Villid’s thoughts surprised him, but he welcomed this new-found desire for peace, and enjoyed not missing battle and violence. He wished he could tell all of this to Aya. He still couldn’t quite believe how Aya felt about him, despite seeing her whole village get destroyed by his people. But Villid felt unable to be proud of his destructive race any longer. Those violent, heartless people who sent their young to the northern wastes to learn how to fight and survive, who thrived on battle and murder, who lived only to destroy and rule. Villid would be happy belonging to the
Vrana, humans, Knabi, even Elves – but pride for Xentar and the Tyrans, Villid found none.
He voiced his thoughts to Acotas, whose black eyes seemed to understand him and his feelings. The path was uneven in places, and Villid had to be careful not to lose his footing. During the rainy season, the pathway would have been slippery with mud, but the cold, dry weather made it easier to descend. The waterfall they had left behind turned into a river that flowed down the mountain and to
the flatter lands several miles away. If they were lucky, Villid and Acotas would perhaps reach the bottom of the mountain by nightfall.
The mountains and the trees of the eastern forest didn’t seem to be getting nearer – they were a lot further away than Villid had first anticipated. The view of mountains and the yellow and green trees, however, was striking, and Villid fought hard not to feel discouraged. After all, he knew this journey would be long and tedious – the mountains were further away than even the forest, and were closer to Xentar than Vallahan.

Several hours later, stopping several times to eat and almost losing their way a few times, Acotas and Villid reached the bottom of the enormous mountain belonging to the Knabi. Villid glanced round – the mountain they had just climbed down towered above them; he could see the waterfall gleaming in the sunset, now just a small line of water on the mountainside. Feeling relieved to be back on flattened ground, they carried on walking. Where they were now still descended, but only slightly. Around them were several trees, their leaves were either minimal or had disappeared completely, littering the ground with yellow and brown. Far to the west were the huge cliffs that he and Aya, along with their companions, had ventured through several weeks ago, eventually leading north-west back to Fort Valour. From where Villid and Acotas stood, the cliffs looked huge; it was difficult to tell that a winding passageway, a
forest, and a city of Knabi lay behind them. Ahead, the pathway sloped downwards to the view that Villid had been looking at all day; he felt he had it memorised – the huge forest to the east, the dark mountains, his destination, the horizon in the north, dotted human towns, fields of crops, winding roads, hills, rivers and castles – a beautiful land which Villid didn’t want to see destroyed by the Darkma. For most of his time descending the mountain, Villid hadn’t had a view of the west, because the cliffs had blocked his vision. Now, though, he and Acotas were turning a corner, and past the trees he could see the land stretch out before him
, where the sun was sinking towards the horizon. Villid was amazed to see how the colour of the earth changed as it stretched to the west – from green to pale brown to a dark yellow – was it a desert that lay there, before eventually reaching the dreaded Red Lands, the world of the Darkma? Villid’s only knowledge of
deserts
were the Northern Wastes, the place where Tyran children were sent to survive and train alone, before returning to their people a year later with proof of their growth. But the Northern Wastes would be impossible to see from here. A large stretch of desolate sandy wasteland, however, did sit in that direction. Perhaps it was a barrier, a land that separated the humans, Elves and Tyrans from the Red Lands. It was huge – it must have covered miles of land. Villid felt relieved that his pathway didn’t cross it, and hoped that he would never have to venture through its
deadly wastes.
Villid climbed onto Acotas’ back, glad that he could finally do so. There was still an hour or so of sunlight left, and although the group of trees he was at now was a beautiful resting spot, it was unsheltered, and he wouldn’t feel safe after nightfall. He slammed his heels into his stallion’s sides and Acotas took off at a gallop, his strong hooves thundering
on the ground. Villid gripped the reins, fixing his eyes ahead, feeling exhilarated that they were finally covering miles, not just metres. Acotas galloped down the hill, and Villid hailed a silent goodbye to the strong mountain behind him. As the sun sunk lower towards the horizon, Villid worried slightly at the lack of caves – the flattened land meant a more visible road, but darkness was no longer a safe time, it seemed, to be outside.
Villid slowed Acotas down as they got closer to another small group of trees. He thought he could see something – a wall, perhaps, of a town, made of tall grey stone. It didn’t take long for them to reach it. Hoping to pick up some spare supplies and rest for the night, Villid and Acotas walked around the wall, looking for an entrance. The sun was sinking dangerously low – within an hour it would be completely dark, and Villid didn’t want to risk wandering alone in the night.
However, the entrance, which was a footbridge, had been caved in. Villid descended Acotas, climbed over the broken wood, and his heart sunk.
The small town was a ruin. Whether destroyed by Darkma, humans, or the weather, it was impossible to tell. What used to be cottages were now empty walls or piles of stone, and any sign of civilization had been abandoned long ago. What used to be a tower stood near the other side of the wall, but half of it had been destroyed, and parts of the stone roof were strewn over the ground, as if lightning had struck it. It would be a useless shelter now. Acotas followed Villid over the broken bridge and nudged him with his nose – stars had begun to twinkle in the darkening sky. Villid gave a sigh – he would have to rest here for the night.
Most of the small ruin was covered in grass, so it was at least more comfortable than the waterfall cave he had slept in the night before. Settling inside a broken cottage,
which
was mostly sheltered by fallen rock, Villid set up his bedroll and lay down, too anxious to build a fire in case it attracted unwanted attention. A few clouds stretched across the starry sky. It was a cold night, and although he was sheltered by the wall, Villid shivered slightly. Acotas had settled himself on the other side of the wall. Villid got up and threw an extra blanket over the horse, before settling back into his bedroll, wrapping the blanket around him and watching the stars, which winked at him from above. Villid always felt great comfort looking at the stars. He knew that when destruction and war plagues the land, the stars stay unaffected and unchanging, beautiful and untouchable.
Praying it wouldn’t rain, Villid gazed at the stars a little while longer, wishing that Aya was with him to enjoy them. He felt happy knowing that right now she was in a warm, comfortable bed, with Navin and Morque both taking care of her. He felt sure she would be on her feet again by now, and smiled at the thought of her offering to help in any way, exploring Vallahan, her inquisitive nature he loved so much taking her around the city, probably being shown round by Navin. His heart warmed at the thought of her, and
he wished he could kiss her goodnight before settling down to sleep.
It seemed like only a moment later that Villid was pulled into consciousness. Dawn was coming, and although nothing had woken him up directly, he felt there was something wrong, as if he was missing something. It took him several moments to wake up properly, and when he did, he realised that he could hear voices, barely
a few feet from them. But they weren’t Darkma, and they weren’t Tyrans.
He had wedged himself against the wall ruin as he had been sleeping, so whoever was nearby seemed not to have seen him. He listened carefully – they were talking to each other at an almost normal level. Villid suddenly realised in alarm that they were talking about Acotas.
“…doesn’t seem to be anyone around,” said one of the voices. It was a man speaking. “And this is surely the horse he was talking about.”
“Most definitely,” said a second male voice. “Look at the mark on its nose. By Lin, look at the size of it! It’s bigger than any normal horse.”
Villid moved closer to the wall, unsure whether he wanted to show himself or not. He didn’t like the idea of putting himself in clear view, without any armour on, to face several bandits.
“But look,” said a third voice. “It has satchels tied to it. And there’s a saddle on that rock over there. Someone’s here.”
“Maybe,” said the first voice, sounding worried.
“Let’s get out of here,” said the second voice. “The sooner we get it back to him, the better.”
Villid heard Acotas give an angry snort as the owners of the voices tried to take him away. Villid’s heart filled with dread. If Acotas and most of his supplies were taken away, it would take months to reach the mountains.
He peeked round the wall. There were three people, whether humans or not, he couldn’t tell. They were dressed in elaborately sewn cloaks of bright colours, as if they were jesters for a lord’s castle. Two of them were yanking at Acotas’ reins, pulling the reluctant stallion away from the ruin where Villid was lying.
“Hurry now.” said
the third person; it was a woman, and Villid knew he had heard her voice somewhere before. Her hood was pulled over her head, but he could see a little of her long, auburn hair that fell from her ear and rested on
her rather large chest. Acotas was still resisting as the humans struggled to pull the stallion along. The woman approached Acotas and softly touched his mane. She whispered something in his ear, and the horse was suddenly calmed; Acotas neighed softly and began to obediently follow the humans.
Villid swore under his breath. He couldn’t just let them take his stallion and all his supplies. But he didn’t want to attack them either – they weren’t bandits, and for some reason, Acotas seemed to trust the woman they were with.
Villid edged his way around the fallen stone that used to be a house, and watched as the three humans led Acotas out of the ruined town and along the broken drawbridge. He followed carefully, staying out of sight and being as quiet as he could. Now and then the humans would glance around them, and Villid made sure there was always a tree or a bush he could hide behind if they looked over. He felt bewildered and a little upset. How was it that Acotas was suddenly so willing to go with these people, with all of Villid’s supplies still tied to his saddle?
Villid followed the humans along the drawbridge, hiding himself from view, but making sure that Acotas stayed in sight. Where were they taking him? Were they in league with the thieves that stole Acotas the first time round, back in the eastern forest? How long would he have to follow these strange travellers before they got somewhere?
But he had to get his horse back – without Acotas, getting to the northern mountains would take much, much longer. And most of his supplies were on the saddle, too. The only things he carried with him were his weapons, and the bag of scrolls that Maajin had told him to keep safe.
He followed the humans along a bumpy hill, where it was easy to lose sight of them now and then. The travellers seemed to relax as they went on, and stopped looking around them so much.
The scenery grew less flat and more grassy, as if they were entering wildlands. Villid had been paying attention to the sun, at the times when it appeared from behind thick clouds – they were heading north-west. He followed them for what felt like hours, growing more and more concerned with each passing minute. He couldn’t follow forever. And what about when they reached their destination? He had no idea where they were going, whether they’d reach a small campsite or a city – a city which hated Tyrans and may attack on sight.
As this thought crossed his mind, he saw that a mossy cliff was looming up on the bumpy horizon. It drew closer – a tall splendour of rock with grass, dying flowers and moss covering it. He expected for it to slope upwards into another hill, or for the humans to walk around it. But they took Acotas all the way up to the face of the rock, where green plants hung low over the cliff.
Villid crouched behind a rock, and watched as the woman raised her hand and touched the low-hanging greenery in front of them. To Villid’s surprise, the curtain of green was suddenly pulled back to reveal an archway in the rock. It was a hidden entrance, completely invisible to those who didn’t know it was there.
The travellers pulled Acotas through the arch – it wasn’t a cave, but a door through the cliff wall. Villid waited until they had ventured through and followed quickly down the hill, keeping his eyes fixed on the exact spot the humans had just gone through. He quietly pulled back the green curtains and edged into the rocky passageway.
It continued through the cliff for several feet before opening up into large grassland, surrounded by the cliff rock. The road sloped downwards, where Villid saw the humans descending into a valley. He followed cautiously, and then as they turned a corner, he saw where they were going.
There were people hidden in this cliff valley; tents and carriages of different colours sat here and there, some of them with people outside them working or building fires. The humans guided Acotas to the bottom of the valley and walked between the tents; some carriages had small ponies or donkeys beside them grazing or eating from buckets; others were painted in bright colours, flags or strips of material hanging from them. Some people wandered around, nodding at people they
passed
, or fetching clothes from lines that hung above the small river, which ran through the valley. It was a hiding place for these people –
Villid could tell they didn’t stay here permanently; there were marks from the wheels of the carriages leading down the hill, and the animals looked rather nervous, as if they were unfamiliar with the strange valley. Nevertheless, it was an excellent hiding place, almost impossible to find unless you knew it was here.
The humans were leading Acotas past the tents and towards one large carriage painted red and yellow. Someone suddenly walked towards Villid, and he clutched his weapons tightly. But the tall man walked right past him as if he hadn’t noticed him. Villid let go of his sword in surprise, and followed the humans further towards the carriage.
It was larger than he’d realised; several steps led up the dark oak door, which the woman ascended. Villid hid behind a nearby tent, where he could keep the carriage in sight. The other humans were tying Acotas to a rock with some rope, but the stallion didn’t look uncomfortable or reluctant to stay with them.
The door opened a fraction, and Villid saw the tip of a black hat as someone peered from inside the large carriage. The woman whispered something to him, and the door was instantly flung open. There stood what appeared to be a human man. He wore a black waistcoat brandishing several small chains and a watch which hung from his chest pocket. Underneath the waistcoat was a red velvet shirt. The man’s dark hair was brushed back and reached his
collar, and he had a thin moustache and beard. His eyes were rather tired, but they lit up when he saw the grey stallion tied close to his carriage.
“You found him!” he exclaimed. His accent was unlike anything Villid had heard before, and made him think of distant lands and wine. The man swept down the steps of his carriage and patted the grey stallion on his neck; Acotas neighed softly and butted the man with his head. Villid stared in surprise. These weren’t thieves – they had found the stolen horse, and were taking him back to his owner.