family reunion
“Leila!” Jakob called again.

I bit my lip in frustration as the woman’s screams began to die down, leaving only their lingering echo in my mind. I turned to my friends, who were anxiously gathered by the gate. Will and Jakob had each picked up a discarded sword, and Fynn was holding Clothis’ sword, which he had used in his fight with Mattis. Cyrus was holding Damaeon upright, his eyes moving quickly around the courtyard for signs of trouble.

“Can’t you hear that?” I asked. “We have to help her!”

Jakob shook his head. “It’s too late for her, Leila. If we go back into the palace now, we could be captured again ourselves. With Cedrik and Mattis gone, we need to use this time to escape.”

Will was gesturing urgently to me, his mouth angrily forming words that only he could hear. I took one last glance at the citadel where the screaming woman remained, and ran across the sandy arena to the gate. Jakob waited until I had passed him before following, as if to ensure that I would not change my mind and run back. Fynn and Will were pushing the large wooden gates open and peering outside for signs of ambush. As they disappeared into the city, Jakob pushed me after them and I stumbled out of the citadel.

Raising my head, I found myself in an open yard that surrounded the steps to the palace. Houses lined the yard on three sides, with broad streets running from each corner and much narrower alleys snaking between them. A fountain bubbled in the centre, devoid of spirit life, and a few merchant stalls were set up around it. I paused to take in the scene and wondered where all the people had gone. Jakob took me firmly by the elbow and lead me down the steps where the others waited. Quickly, we skirted around the closest building and into the shadows of the alley.

I saw that Damaeon was breathing hard, leaning heavily on Cyrus’ shoulder. The young Dyrel also did not look like his normal self, and I wondered what happened to him in Cedrik’s dungeons. Shrugging free of Jakob, I moved to crouch next to Damaeon and put my hand on his arm.

“Are you all right?” I asked softly. “I can try to heal your wounds again, now that I’ve rested.”

Damaeon shook his head and raised his eyes to meet mine. He smiled, although I could see his vision was clouded with pain.

“Save your strength,” he told me. “I’ll be fine.”

“Someone must have seized control of the palace by now,” Jakob muttered to himself, peering out of the alley towards the citadel. “The troops will be out soon in force to find us.”

I shuddered. “Revenge for killing the previous king?”

Jakob smiled wryly. “I doubt we’ll be offered a reward. We better keep moving.”

Will motioned for us to follow him and headed down the alley. Jakob seemed less than pleased with the idea, but would not be left behind. Cyrus and Damaeon were already moving when I felt a hand in mine. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw Fynn standing beside me with Clothis’ sword still in his other hand. He didn’t look at me, but gently lead me down the darkened passage. I relished the feel of his warm hand in mine, the same hand that had ripped Mattis’ soul from his body not long ago.

At the end of the path, Will raised his hand to stop us from moving and disappeared into the street. I peeked around Fynn’s shoulder and saw that this area of the city was just as empty as the courtyard in front of the palace had been. Had the citizens of the capital been evacuated? Were they all hiding? Will returned and put a finger to his lips, pressing his back against the brick walls of the houses. A minute passed and I could hear the pounding of boots on the cobblestone, a small detachment of troops marching by as they combed the city for us. Will waited a minute longer before motioning for us to follow him into the street.

I expected more resistance as we crept further away from the Huryl citadel, towards the main gates where we had entered undetected only yesterday. Then, the city had been filled with the sounds of life. I had heard them from my hiding place in the cart, thinking that any one of those voices could reveal us. Now, the city was deserted, the doors to the houses closed and the windows blocked with curtains or boards. The people were terrified, like the citizens of Oponoe had been after the Huryl assault. I squeezed Fynn’s hand tighter, realizing for the first time that the people of Oponoe were gone, and perhaps Cyrus and Damaeon were all that remained of the once beautiful city. I had failed them again.

We hid as another patrol marched by, and Will gestured for us to hurry. Ahead, I saw the broad main street spread out before us, usually a turbulent river of people and animals. We would have to cross it in full view to reach the road leading back into the mountains. I took a deep breath and let it out slowly as Will motioned for us to move.

We ran, Will in the lead followed by Cyrus and Damaeon, then Fynn and I, with Jakob guarding our rear. The gate drew closer, increasing in size and clarity as the distance between us shrank. My mood began to improve, and I thought we would make it after all. No more blood would be shed, and no one else would die. The Huryl would let us depart with the silver acorn and the war would be ended. I almost laughed for joy when a single form stepped from the shadowed archway to block our path. The laughter died unused in my throat as we skidded to a halt in front of Roric.

He held his axe loosely in two hand, an almost apologetic expression on his face as he stood between us and our freedom. Fynn began to push me behind him, but I stubbornly remained by his side. Will held his sword ready, but it was Jakob who stepped to the front to face his father.

“Stand aside, Father,” Jakob said.

“Father?” Cyrus repeated, looking inquiringly at Damaeon. The prince shrugged.

“Surrender, Jakob,” Roric countered. “I can’t let you or your friends leave.”

“Who are you going to give us to?” Jakob laughed. “The King and your precious commander are dead. No one rules the Huryl now.”

“But someone will soon, and you’ll have to answer for your crimes.”

Jakob raised his sword, tears glistening in his hardened eyes. Roric lowered his weapon and frowned, his torn emotions evident from the expression on his face.

“What happened, son? You were always such a good boy, so helpful around the farm. You were a soldier with a promising future. Why did you throw it away?”

Jakob shook his head. “It was your future, not mine. Father, you enlisted me in the army without asking me. How could you force me to fight?”

My eyes widened as I was brought suddenly back to the night in the Tyrzel fortress, when the sand spirits had shown each of us our deepest regrets. I had faced the ghost of my brother, and Jakob had been consumed in a duel with his father. I brought my hand unconsciously to the locket beneath my shirt and felt Fynn’s grip on my hand tighten.

“Being a soldier is a good life,” Roric was saying. “It was good enough for your grandfather and your father, but not good enough for you? Is that it? Jakob, when will you see that serving your king is the greatest joy anyone can have!”

“I don’t serve any king,” Jakob replied. “I followed my father, hoping to win his respect. But I see now I have lost it forever. If you continue to love me at all, let me leave. I won’t be a disappointment to you anymore.”

Roric’s face fell, and the axe sagged slightly in his grip. He glanced over at me, his face echoing some of the kind man I had met in the forest long ago. Serving the power-hungry Cedrik and Mattis had changed him, I could see, but I knew he was still a good man to have had a son like Jakob.

“Jakob, I do love you,” Roric said pleadingly, as if by sheer sincerity he could convince his son to believe him. He sighed and stepped to one side. “You’re not a disappointment to me. Hurry up, and-“

“There they are!”

I gasped as Huryl soldiers suddenly materialized all around us, running down the main street with parade ground precision and stepping clear of the alleyways that we had used to make our escape. There were about twenty in total. A man dressed similarly to Roric stepped up beside him and put his hand firmly on Roric’s shoulder.

“Good job, Captain,” the man said. “When we find Commander Mattis, there will be a promotion for you for sure.”

“Wait,” Roric objected weakly.

“Something wrong, Captain?” the other soldier asked. “Or should I say, Commander?”

Roric went pale and mouthed the new title to himself. Jakob moved backwards, as our small group converged together. Damaeon and I were pressed in the centre while Cyrus, Will, Jakob, and Fynn guarded us.

“Seize them,” Roric finally said, almost regretfully.

“Not without a fight,” Cyrus declared.

Will nodded vigorously in agreement. I closed my eyes and grasped Damaeon by the arm as the sound of swords clashing together assaulted my ears. One by one, I felt my protectors leaving their post, drawn into the battle until Damaeon and I stood exposed. I opened my eyes to see the Dyrel prince holding a sword in one hand and grasping his wounded side with the other, keeping the soldiers away from me. I had no idea where he had picked up the weapon, but I knew we would not escape until all the Huryl were gone.

“No more,” I whispered. “No more deaths. Cireno, Clothis, Cedrik, Mattis, Gael, the people of Oponoe, and all the bodies lying in the Spirit Wood.”

The wind picked up around me as I called to the spirits with the strength of my conviction. I felt myself rising into the air, my tattered white robe swirling as all eyes gazed my way. The battle forgotten, my friends and the Huryl could only stare.

“There will be no more human blood spilled,” I said loudly. “I was not brought here for that purpose. The time is almost upon us and I will be delayed no longer.”

Part of my brain pondered that last statement, wondering exactly what I had meant. Meanwhile, the rest of me was preparing our departure. I returned to the earth as the wind disappeared and with two swift gestures, the fire spirits came to my aid and pushed the Huryl back with two walls of flame. Calmly, I walked between them to where the gate lay undefended. I heard my friends stumbling to follow and soon we were out of the Huryl city. Fynn was by my side in a heartbeat, his arms ready to catch me if I fell, but rather than feeling drained, I was invigorated by the spirits.

“What was that?” Cyrus asked, his eyes wide and voice full of awe.

I shook my head. “I’m not entirely sure.”

“Hurry, before the flames die down,” Jakob urged, leading them through the mountain pass, away from the city.

“Fynn,” I asked as we moved.

“Is this going to be another explanation?” Fynn asked, catching me as I stumbled over some loose rocks.

“I know, I’m never content to let things be,” I said for him, “but I wanted to know what you did to Mattis.”

Fynn smiled. “I made him the Woodwalker.”

I blinked in confusion and stopped dead in my tracks. Ahead of us, the rest of our group carried on. Fynn looked down at me in annoyance.

“You did what?” I repeated.

“I gave his soul to the Faerie Queen. He’s locked in the servitude I was forced to ensure for centuries. A good punishment, don’t you think?”

I shook my head. “He could still come after us.”

Fynn’s eyes narrowed. “Did you want me to kill him?”

The image of Fynn with Clothis’ blood on his hands and pooling around his feet leapt unbidden in my mind. As much as I despised Mattis, I didn’t want anyone to die.

“Of course not.”

“I didn’t think so,” Fynn’s easy smile returned. “Besides, if she does to him what she did to me, Mattis won’t be out of her sight for at least a century. Maybe longer, if she really likes him.”

His smiled was contagious, and I laughed as I began to move again. Mattis, at least, had survived. This gave me some comfort, knowing that it was one less death I was responsible for. Still, the thought of Mattis as the Woodwalker gave me chills and I was shivering by the time we caught up to Jakob and the others.

“We’re far enough from the main road to rest for a bit,” Jakob decided.

Will was already scrounging around for some wood for a fire. Damaeon was leaning against a
rock, his head tilted up and his eyes closed. I could almost feel his pain as he laboured to breath. Cyrus sat next to him, doing his best to make the prince comfortable.

Will returned with a few twigs and dropped them unceremoniously to the ground. Mimicking the task of striking flint and steel, he raised his hands and shook his head, indicating that there was no way to light the fire. I pointed to the wood and a flame ignited, causing Will to jump back in surprise. He looked at me with wide eyes, then relaxed and smiled in thanks.

Jakob took the wrapped acorn from his belt and held it carefully in his hand. “What should we do next, Leila? The elves need this acorn.”

“And Damaeon needs to return to Oponoe,” Cyrus spoke up. “We need to gather any people who survived and rebuild.”

“The citizens are either in the caves or the mountain stronghold,” Damaeon said weakly. “From Oponoe, I can send runners. I’m sure some people have returned by now.”

I nodded as I sat next to the fire, Fynn beside me. I leaned back against his chest and thought about what to do next. Without the acorn, the Elven Queen would die and with her all the elves. But if I didn’t get Damaeon somewhere safe soon, he could possibly die as well. It was important for the Dyrel to gather some strength before the Huryl did, or whoever seized the Huryl throne would be able to claim Oponoe without a fight. I sighed, wondering why such difficult decisions were always left to me.