Part Four: Almond Pocket
Breathing heavily, Taurin emerged from the trapdoor, only a few steps behind Ravena. The girl looked quite as terrified as he felt. Whatever she had been expecting when she entered the Hall of Royalty, this was not it. In spite of himself, Taurin could not help feeling a little satisfied; she would not be so eager to rush into danger next time. Feeling guilty, he quickly brushed the thought away. He closed the trapdoor behind him and turned to face Ravena.
"What do we do now? Can we alert the city guards?"
The dark-haired girl shook her head. "It's not their job to be investigating things outside the city. Even if it was, they wouldn't be prepared to make a journey like that on our word alone." She pursed her lips in thought, as if she was considering what to say next. Suddenly she went very still, and the colour drained from her face. Taurin spun to see what had caught her attention.
A creature of nightmare was slowly creeping towards them. It was as black as midnight, with no features or clearly identifiable shape, and Taurin would have thought it were a shadow if not for the fact that it took up space and was moving. Part of the creature—it might have been its head—was fixed in their direction, as the monster lumbered slowly towards them.
Taurin cast his eyes about frantically. Apart from heading back down the trapdoor into the arms of the Collector—and worse, Morathia—their only escape lay through the intricate door immediately behind them. His frantic mind shouted that the door led to a dead-end, but he pushed the thought aside. Anything was better than just standing still. He cast a brief glance down at the trapdoor, but something innate told him that he would rather encounter one of these shadowy monsters than Morathia. He would rather encounter one hundred. He made a silent motion directing Ravena to the door. She obeyed without hesitation.
The chamber that housed the Sword of Legend was as glorious as the last time he stood beneath its vaulted ceiling. He cast his eyes around madly, the room's beauty going unnoticed, searching for an escape. Light filtered in from unseen slits far above, and emanated from the holy blade. The sword's dais dominated the centre of the room, presenting an obstacle for their enemy. If they remained behind the dais, their enemy would have to approach them from one side or the other, or else clamber over the dais. Either way, it depended on the black thing's speed. And what if it had other powers, as well as physical attack? "It's like the monsters that followed me from Katheton," Ravena whispered faintly, and Taurin felt his blood turn to ice. He pulled the giant door firmly closed behind him, and swore when he saw that it had no lock.
He had barely closed the door, and the two children had not even begun their retreat to the other side of the room, when the room darkened slightly. Locks would have achieved nothing; the creature was sliding under the door like a mist. "Run," Taurin shouted, suiting his own words. He was halfway across the chamber when he heard a dull thump, and then a scream. Ravena had tripped and fallen.
Taurin hesitated for only a moment. With a shout, he bolted back towards the girl, and pulled her up by her hair. "Go!" he yelled, and pushed her away. The creature was almost upon them, moving without urgency, sure of its ultimate success. It seemed to come at Taurin from all sides, and before he knew what had happened had backed him up the steps of the dais. Cowering, he looked up at the formless, colourless apparition that seemed to tower over him and recede well into the distance. He felt himself back up against the altar that dominated the room's centre. And then impulse struck him.
Acting almost without thought—barely even realising he had moved—Taurin felt his hands settle around the pommel of the Sword of Legend. His hands slid down onto the hilt, almost without him willing them. A sudden sparkling caught his attention, and he realised that the royal crest engraved on the marble altar was coming alive. Faint green light was tracing along its lines, now growing stronger, now burning as if aflame. Before he knew what was happening, he was drawing the unblemished silver blade from the altar and holding it aloft.
Light spread forth in all directions, first as a slow trickle outwards from the silver blade, then as a surge that illuminated the entire room. The black creature writhed in the face of initial outflow, then caught fire as the light spread, consumed from within by burning blue flames. Then, without warning, it was all over. The light ceased—unless it was that the Sword of Legend glowed slightly more fiercely than usually—and the creature of shadow was gone. Taurin collapsed, whether from emotional exhaustion or from the sudden emptiness that had stolen through him with the light's passing he did not know.
"Are you okay?" He heard Ravena's voice, as if from a great distance. He had closed his eyes—or had his vision gone black?—and he was floating far away from his body. He was numb except for the pulsing warmth of the Sword of Legend in his hands. "Taurin, are you all right?" This time her voice brought him back to himself. He rose to his feet, the activity surprisingly difficult. It took several moments for him to steady himself.
"I'm fine. Thanks." Her brown eyes were filled with worry as they examined his face. He felt himself go red. "No, really, I'm okay."
She was silent for a few moments, then nodded. Lowering her face, she broke eye contact. "I guess you saved both of us just then. Thanks a lot. For coming back for me, as well as what you did with the sword."
"I didn't do anything with the sword. That light came out of nowhere, when I pulled the sword loose."
She was looking at him again, not with worry but with something else. "I saw that. You shouldn't have been able to pull the weapon out, you know. It's been stuck there for a long time. It's held there with very strong spells." She glanced at the royal crest, which had returned to its original colour. "Very strong spells."
Taurin did not know what to say. He looked down at the Sword of Legend, finding it hard to believe that he was holding it in his hands, drinking in its brightness, admiring its sinuous outline. He attempted an experimental swing, then stopped in surprise. He had laid the weapon down at his feet. That wasn't what he had meant to do! Frowning slightly, he lifted it up again, and attempted to imitate one of Victen Armos' moves. Again, the sword lay at his feet. Slowly, bitterly, realisation crept through him. "I can't wield it."
"That's strange. Let me try." Ravena picked up the weapon. After hesitating for a moment, she quickly put it down. Astonishment flooded her face. "You're right. It can't be wielded. But why could you draw it out?"
Shrugging, Taurin reluctantly slid the sword back into its special hollow in the altar. The royal crest flared green and then faded to faint silver once more. Ravena tried her hardest to pull the weapon free and could not. Taurin approached the altar and placed his hands on the pommel. Again, he seemed to act without conscious thought. Again the crest burned with green light. Before he knew what was happening, he once more held the Sword of Legend. There was no explosion of light this time, for which Taurin was almost grateful. Perhaps it was only to occur the first time the weapon was retrieved, or maybe it had been in reaction to the black thing.
"You're just weak," he noted, managing a grin.
She smiled back. "Maybe, but you can't wield it, so that makes you weak too." Which of course was nonsense; the sword was feather-light, so much so that were it not for its unnatural warmth, Taurin would have forgotten he held it. Her tone suddenly became very serious. "What are we going to do now?"
"About the sword?" asked Taurin reluctantly. He doubted Ravena would approve of him taking it away with him, and he grudgingly supposed that she was right. Just because he could draw it from the marble did not make it his. Nevertheless, it was all very curious.
"You're leaving that where you found it." No surprises there, he noted dejectedly. "I'm talking about the Collector and that man in dark robes... Morathia." She said it as if it were the most natural thing in the world, and seemed genuinely surprised by the dumbfounded look he gave her. "They're up to no good, Taurin. If this stone's as powerful as they say, then we don't want them getting their hands on it. Not the Collector, and certainly not Morathia. He makes my blood go cold."
"Mine too. And that means we don't want anything to do with him." He forced himself to speak calmly, fighting down both his fear and his disbelief at the girl's insane idea. "Let him take his stupid stone. If you think the Collector will just hand it over, you're dead wrong. I could see the look on his face, even from the balcony. He's going to keep it for himself."
"And Morathia knows that." She looked at him imploringly as she spoke, her eyes filled with an urgency that matched her voice. "He will be searching for the Collector. He will find him, and take back the stone. A lot of people are going to suffer if that happens. You can't disagree with that, can you?"
That much was true, he acknowledged grudgingly. Morathia would go to any lengths to find the Collector, to retrieve the stone, and his intentions were undoubtedly as dark as the black robes he wore. But if he would hunt the Collector to get back the stone … "Ravena, if we get the stone first, then he will come after us."
"How is he to know that two children from two different small towns in the countryside around Peldor have it? He'll think the Collector is hiding it, and he'll have that in mind when he's searching for it. Katheton and Bellguard are the last places he would think to look."
All of which made sense, but it didn't make the task Ravena was suggesting any easier. "That's all well and good, but it depends on us reaching this cave before the Collector. I don't even know where the cave is."
"But I do." Her soft voice was insistent. He looked at her, puzzled. "When I was leaving Katheton, the black creatures chased me towards the Skalten Hills. They had me cornered right in front of that cave, late at night. I thought I wasn't going to see the dawn. For some reason, they backed away, leaving me alone. So, thanks to them, we know where the cave is. I guess they did us a favour, really." That was not what Taurin would have called it, and he gave her a grimace that said as much. Ravena responded with a grin. "Of course, it's sealed by a big slab of rock engraved with the royal seal. Who do we know who can break seals like that?" He gave her the most withering look he could muster, and she smiled triumphantly. "That's right. Which means we can get inside the cave."
"If nobody except me can break the seal, we've got nothing to worry about. The Collector will never get inside. We can save ourselves a long and dangerous journey." It was his turn to smile in triumph, though he was sure he still looked very gloomy.
Ravena gave a long-suffering sigh. "Nobody said you were the only one who could break the seal. No, don't look at me like that."
"Here I was, thinking I was special."
"You are special, Taurin. It's just that Morathia seemed sure that the Collector could—"
She froze in mid-sentence, and it didn't take Taurin very long to identify the source of her concern. Outside the chamber, there was a scraping as the trapdoor opened once again. "The Collector," he heard Ravena hiss, and felt himself go numb. There was no doubt in his mind that the man who had stalked him from his first day in Peldor stood only several paces away. An irrational fear took hold of him. What if the Collector could sense his presence? What if he came to investigate? This wild fantasy morphed into other, more concrete possibilities. The door to their chamber had been slightly ajar when they entered the Hall; now it was closed. What if the Collector noticed? What if the creature of shadow was in his service, and he stopped to investigate its disappearance? For long moments, Taurin Eldoom was too worried to breathe.
Then it was over, and he relaxed his rigid body. The trapdoor had closed, and the Collector was heading down the Hall. Another thought took hold of him. "Ravena," he whispered. "We're going to be locked in. He has the key."
She went very pale. "When the sentries come tomorrow, we're going to be in a lot of trouble." After a moment's thought, she brightened. "Morathia got in here somehow, and he didn't have a key. There was a tunnel leading out of the room below the balcony, and it must lead out of here." The foolish girl sounded excited!
"I'll take my luck with the guards."
"Taurin …" She sounded slightly exasperated now. "We'll never get to the cave before the Collector if we stay here."
"Then we've got no chance of getting killed. If we do things your way, we could get killed two ways. What if Morathia's not gone? What if he lives there, underneath the Hall of Royalty?" The thought made him shiver, but it was nothing next to the idea of going down to find out.
"I doubt it, but we'll be careful. Any sign of danger, and we'll head back. Does that sound fair?"
"Okay," he agreed, feeling miserable. "But if we're doing that, I'm taking the sword. It can help us." He wasn't sure how it could help, and it probably wasn't wise to take it, but if Ravena hated the idea, then it at least deserved consideration.
"You're doing nothing of the sort. Think for a moment. You can't wield it, and if you take it, every soldier in Peldor—every soldier in the Federation and every brigand in the world—will be searching for you." She grabbed his arm, pulling him away from the dais. "Please, Taurin."
"But it's okay to take this stone, and be hunted by Morathia and who knows what else?"
"That's different."
"How? How is it different, Ravena? I think I'd rather have the soldiers looking for me—and the brigands."
"Please, Taurin." She looked at him again, her eyes so anxious that he found himself moving away from the dais almost unconsciously. Taking control of himself, he stopped. Hesitating for a moment, he finally scowled and stepped away completely.
"You win," he conceded glumly. "Let's go downstairs."
The tunnel that ran from the trapdoor stairs to the balcony was as dark as last time, and even more terrifying; this time, he knew it wasn't just the Collector who might wait at the other end. It was something much darker. The two children emerged onto the balcony and noted with relief that the room it overlooked was deserted. At least it seemed deserted; when they had spied on the Collector, Morathia had emerged as if from nowhere. "Let's go downstairs," whispered Ravena.
The walk down the long flight of stairs was one of the most terrifying experiences of Taurin's life. It was agonisingly slow, each step torturous as he kept his eyes fixed on the gloom below, determined to make no noise. Eventually, after what felt like a lifetime, he reached the downstairs floor, Ravena beside him. Nothing emerged from the shadows, for which Taurin was thankful. In the dim light, he could barely make out an open door against the far wall, the passageway behind it running off into shadow. Steeling himself, he crept towards it.
He never could remember just how long he spent in that passageway. It seemed to run on forever, and yet at the same time there was almost nothing he could fix his mind on when he thought back on it. It was dark; he remembered that much. It was dark and it was musty and it was silent and it was cold. It felt like a tomb, and he wanted to scream. After what might have been hours or might have been less than a minute, he reached its end. There was a large pile of rocks before them, and for a dreadful moment Taurin thought the passage had collapsed. But then he saw that the rocks stood slightly beyond the hall's end, masking the entrance very effectively, but not blocking it. The world outside was brighter than the inside of the tunnel, but not by very much; early night had set in.
Taurin and Ravena emerged beside a small hill, its base littered with rocks and boulders. Rain was still falling, steadily but neither fast nor hard, and the park in which they stood was riddled with puddles. Taurin cast an apprehensive eye over his surroundings. In the far distance, he could make out houses, but they were unfamiliar and looked derelict. Ravena turned in his direction, her face flushed with excitement. "We made it out okay—hopefully a sign of things to come. In a better mood now?"
Feeling no desire to describe how he felt, Taurin directed her attention to the distant houses. "Any idea where we are?"
"We're in Trivin Park, right near the Almond Pocket."
"What's the Almond Pocket?"
"It's not a very nice part of the city," she replied simply. Seeing that he did not find her answer satisfactory, she elaborated. "It used to be called Keng District. It was poor, but there wasn't anything particularly dark about it. That changed about seventy years ago. An outlaw—I can't remember his name—an outlaw made his stronghold in one of the bigger buildings there. It's always just been called the Manor House. The Bandit Lord, as he became known, drew criminals from every part of the city and gathered them in Keng District, making it a den of thieves and worse. He operated secretly for a long time, though of course everyone knew that Keng District was where the criminals were, then came against the town guards in open war."
He looked at her doubtfully. "A few bandits took on Peldor's whole guard force?"
"More than a few bandits, Taurin. There were more than two hundred of them. And the guards did not bring their entire force to bear, at least not at first. They believed that the district's division could handle the problem. It ended up going on for three months, but the bandits were finally overthrown. The Bandit Lord himself was slain on the lawn in front of the Manor House. He died at the foot of a large almond tree."
"That's where it got the name from, right?"
"Very good." He could see her small smile clearly in the moonlight. "Many of the bandits were killed, but some weren't. And most of them had families that also turned to crime. Many of those families still live in Almond Pocket."
Taurin shuddered. "Sounds like a very good reason to avoid the place."
"We have to go right through it. In fact, we'll be walking right underneath the shadow of the Manor House." His frustration must have shown, because she held up a hand to restrain the inevitable outburst. "It's the only way—unless you want to do a loop around half the city and all but guarantee that we never make it to safety."
"You're determined to get us killed, one way or another." She looked at him as if trying to work out whether he was jesting or serious. Taurin himself was not quite sure how he intended it.
"Come on," Ravena muttered, and headed across the moist grass towards the distant houses, Taurin two steps behind. As the children approached, the buildings took shape, transforming from dark smudges into crude and inhospitable-looking structures. Faint light shone through the few windows that were not either shuttered or boarded up, tiny squares of yellow against Peldor's night. Taurin did not care for the look of the district, nor for its feel. As he reached the edge of the park—and the beginning of the neglected houses—he had the perception that eyes were watching him from the blackness between buildings. He tried his best to shake the feeling, but it refused to leave, an unsettling awareness that manifested itself as a tingle in his spine. He found himself turning around every few steps. Beside him, Ravena was doing her best to look untroubled, but her eyes betrayed her, darting from building to building, alleyway to alleyway.
They held their breath every time they passed a doorway or the mouth of an alley, and each corner they turned caused Taurin's heart to pound in his chest. There were no street lamps in Almond Pocket, and shadows lay heavy across its streets. Eventually the children found themselves passing the foot of a steep, short hill. It loomed to their left, crowned by a crumbling three-storey house that must have been at least two hundred years old. A shadowy lawn stretched away to their right. Taurin's breath caught when he saw a large almond tree rising up in its centre.
Steeling himself, he pushed forward past the Manor House. His eyes clenched tight, he forced himself to put one foot in front of the other, feeling the muddy street through the soles of his shoes. Finally, he was beyond the Manor House's shadow. He allowed himself to open his eyes, and took a look around in relief. Then panic hit him like a hammer.
Ravena was gone.
For a moment he stood where he was in total disbelief. She had been with him when they were passing the house, and now she had simply vanished. He cast his head about wildly, trying to find her. It was then that he heard a very faint shout, muffled as if a hand had been placed over someone's mouth. It came from near the Manor House. Taurin felt his stomach drop away completely. Ravena had been attacked—and he would have to go back to save her.
He had turned around before he knew what was happening, and his legs were carrying him back towards the Manor House almost of their own accord. He stopped when he was back beneath its shadow, his head scanning the shadows, his heart beating so hard he thought it might burst. He saw a flicker of movement over by the giant almond tree, a flash of metal reflecting the moonlight. Before he could think better of it, he was sprinting in its direction, a dark shadow passing through the rain.
A man stood in the tree's shadow, one hand around Ravena, covering her mouth, the other holding a sharp knife to her throat. The young girl's eyes were wide with terror, but she was standing as still as a statue. Apparently she had been persuaded not to struggle. The man who held her looked like something that had been exhumed from a grave. His skin was sallow and bruised, his grey-brown hair hung long and his eyes were feral. His mouth worked itself into a sneer as Taurin drew near.
"Go away, boy. Nothing for you here."
Taurin had no idea what he could do to help Ravena, but he took another step forward nevertheless. "Let her go," he demanded weakly.
"You go away now and nothing will happen to you. It's the girl I want." His voice was harsh and raspy. It made Taurin shiver.
He began to take another step forward but stopped in mid-stride when he saw the hand holding the knife tense. Ravena let loose a wild yell, cut off as the man's hand closed even more firmly across her mouth. Taurin felt hopelessness sweep through him. What could he possibly do to help her? "She doesn't have anything to give you. Leave her alone."
"It's not loot I want. Not tonight. I just want the girl." He eyes narrowed in hunger as he looked down at her face, and Taurin felt himself go numb. Ravena thrashed wildly for a brief instant, but a stroke with the knife left her still once again. "Such a pretty thing," the man whispered, his fetid breath so close it blew her hair.
With a shout, Taurin had begun to sprint towards him. This man was so vile that it made his stomach turn. "Easy, boy," the other snarled, bringing Taurin to a stop. "She's as much use to me dead as alive. Almost as much, anyway. You'd best back off." He smiled coldly, revealing a mouth with more gaps than teeth. The colour had left Ravena's face now; as impossible as it seemed, her eyes had widened further. For his part, Taurin just felt sick.
"What's going on here?" The voice was hard and assertive and filled with challenge. Taurin wheeled to discover its source. A figure stood in the near distance, tall and cloaked in shadow, its cloak billowing slightly in the gentle night air. Taurin had felt a moment's relief, but that quickly faded away and was replaced by pure panic. All he could think of was Morathia.
Then the figure was moving towards them, controlled and sure and without hesitation. It was not Morathia after all. It was a man wearing expensive-looking clothes and a dark brown cloak. He was very tall, and at once both lean and well-built. Long brown hair fell neatly down a pale, slender face, and his deep blue eyes were fixed on the man holding Ravena. Taurin felt his panic fade and hope flare anew. He knew deep inside that this man was here to save them.
"Let the girl go," he said flatly, his voice so certain that Ravena's captor released her for a moment before pulling her close once again. The newcomer raised one dark eyebrow. "You won't like what happens to you if you don't. That was your first warning. I won't give you a second." He paused for a moment, his voice seeming to hang in the air. "So, let me ask you again. Let the girl go." He unsheathed a long silver sword, pulling it from his side in one fluid motion. His eyes never left the outlaw.
Taurin was watching the sallow-skinned man, too. For a brief instant it looked as if he would obey. His face revealed a long moment's hesitation, and even his eyes were lucid. Then his hand jerked, and Taurin shouted as he saw the knife drive towards Ravena's throat.
The man with the silver sword had begun running in the outlaw's direction even before the knife started moving. A running leap through the air brought him against his opponent just as the knife was about to plunge into Ravena's throat. His slender blade arced downwards, deflecting the thrust. With his spare hand, he effortlessly pulled Ravena from the other's grip and pushed her away.
The outlaw stabbed wildly, but Ravena's saviour parried the thrusts so effortlessly that for one wild second he reminded Taurin of Victen Armos. Their exchange ended abruptly; the man with long brown hair thrust suddenly at the other's chest, the sword sinking deep. The bandit staggered for an instant, and then fell against the roots of the almond tree, his body gone stiff and his eyes empty. Taurin felt ill, but the illness battled with a perverse satisfaction as he looked upon the body of the man who had meant Ravena such horror. Shuddering, he looked away, and regarded the tall newcomer.
"I don't like killing," the other offered simply. He took another glance at the corpse and shook his head. "But sometimes, you save other lives further down the track if you take one now. I hope this is such a case." He turned towards Ravena, who was crouched on the ground in shock or terror or something else. "It's over now," he whispered gently, and drew her to her feet. He put a reassuring hand on her shoulder, and then held her close for a moment before releasing her.
"Who are you," Taurin asked abruptly, finally managing to fight down the shock of everything that had happened.
"I am called Jasen Norst." He smiled disarmingly. "I'm nobody very important."
He held out his hand and Taurin took it. Jasen had a very amiable air to him, and Taurin would have found him hard to dislike—even if he had not saved Ravena's life. "I'm Taurin," he offered. Seeing that Ravena was still too shaken to speak, he added, "and she's Ravena."
"I see," replied Jasen, sweeping back his hair and freeing it of rainwater. "It's fortunate that our paths crossed tonight. But what brings two young people like yourself into this part of Peldor—particularly at this hour? Surely you know it's not safe."
"We got lost, and were trying to find our way back home. Ravena said we had to get through Almond Pocket. It certainly wasn't my idea," Taurin explained.
Jasen Norst smiled and shook his head in something that might have been amusement. "Let's not get into the business of apportioning blame." He looked concernedly at Ravena. "She needs a good night's sleep, and she needs it as soon as possible. And she definitely doesn't need any more problems on the way home. I will accompany you until you are safely home."
Taurin felt a heavy burden lift from his shoulders. "That would be a big help. Thanks."
"Where do you need to go?"
"Ivory Lane," provided Ravena suddenly, her voice faint and hoarse.
"And I need to go to the Pirate's Haven, on Heritage Court," Taurin added.
Ravena shook her head. "No, Taurin. We'll have to leave early tomorrow, and I won't have time to come and find you. Besides, I really don't want to be alone tonight."
"Okay, we'll both be going to Ivory Lane."
Jasen turned and ushered them along the street. Directing one last glance at the still body of their assailant, Taurin fell into line behind him and Ravena. Jasen led them on through the rain and the night, sure of the route, never hesitating even once. He spoke to them as they walked, talking of distant lands that he had seen and strange people he had met. Taurin tried to guess his age, but could not settle on any particular range. He had the look of someone who had left youth behind a very long time ago, and yet had many years left to run before old age finally overcame him. From the way Ravena's eyes lingered on him, Taurin guessed he must have been very handsome. Either that or she was simply grateful that he had saved her life, he told himself and shrugged. It really made no difference. He turned his thoughts to the road they must travel tomorrow on a journey whose end they might never see.
"What brought you to Peldor, Lord Jasen?" Ravena asked suddenly, interrupting his reverie.
The tall man was silent for a moment and then shrugged. "There's no reason why I should keep it a mystery," he mused, as if talking to himself. "My allegiances have never been secret." He paused for a little longer and continued, his voice directed towards both Ravena and Taurin, but his eyes fixed on something distant, staring beyond the blackness into lands only he could see. "I am part of a war—a war that has not yet been openly declared, but will one day cover these lands in shadow and fire." He spoke quietly, but his voice was intense. "It's a secret war at the moment, but it can still do a lot of harm. My enemies are dangerous, and they would stop at nothing to ruin the world. In fact, I don't know if they have a deeper goal. They are dark creatures who hate all life. Their general is a wraith named Morathia."
Taurin felt his hair stand on end. He glanced meaningfully at Ravena, who looked back at him in wide-eyed terror. He considered saying something to Jasen, but the other had already seen the exchange of looks. "I see you know something of this creature."
Seeing no point in lying, Taurin nodded. Though he could not quite figure out why, he felt it was important that he told Jasen Norst all he knew. "We saw him a few hours ago," he began, and recounted the happenings beneath the Hall of Royalty, Ravena listening silently and giving the occasional encouraging nod. When he finished, Jasen's mouth was tight and apprehension was etched on his face.
"That is grave news," he whispered after a long silence. "If he gets that stone it will spell trouble for all of us." He frowned, and when he spoke again his voice was concerned. "And yet I have pressing tasks here in Peldor—tasks only I can complete, and the consequences of failure are just as dire. This war is fought on many fronts."
Silence settled over the small group as they trudged on through the rain. It was Ravena who eventually spoke. "We're going to get the stone before he does—me and Taurin."
Taurin more than half expected to hear Jasen laugh, and he honestly couldn't have blamed the man if he had. Instead, he felt the other's deep eyes examining his face. "Yes," Jasen replied at last. "I think you both have it in you to succeed in this task." A smile crossed his face, disappearing so quickly that Taurin was unsure whether it had been there at all. "It sounds like madness … sending two children against the might of the Shadow Kingdom. But it just might work. In any case, you're the only ones here to try it. You're the only hope."
"We'll do our best," Ravena promised. "Is Morathia … really a wraith?"
"Nobody knows. He keeps himself cloaked in black, and his face is hidden behind a mask that he never removes. He might be a wraith; he might be a man." He paused as he directed them down a side street. "In truth, he would be the only one who knows. Perhaps he himself has forgotten by now. Perhaps his soul has become so stained that it doesn't matter." Taurin shivered involuntarily. He could not quite decide which was the more frightening—a wraith, or a man who had discarded his own humanity.
"You must undertake this journey alone." Jasen was speaking again. "But I will offer what advice I can. Even if you know this cave's location and your enemy does not, you must make haste. If the cave is between Flinden and Katheton, it's probably about five days to the north, travelling by foot. But you should head west. Less than two days of travel will bring you to a fairly thick woodland. Make your way into the woods and you'll find … some friends who will make your journey faster and easier. Go with them as far as Flinden, and then travel the rest of the way alone." He looked at Ravena. "The land near the Skalten Hills is rough, as you would already know."
They finally reached the front door to the building Ravena had made her home. She directed Jasen to the side of the building, and after thanking him profusely for saving her, slipped through the wall of ivy and disappeared inside. Taurin made to follow her, when he felt a restraining hand on his shoulder. Jasen motioned for him to remain outside for a moment.
"What is it?" Taurin asked curiously.
"Just something I think I should tell you." The other's voice was low and smooth. "I said I sensed something special about both of you. That's true; I have an eye for such things. There is more to each of you than meets the eye. Your friend has talents she is yet to fully discover … as do you, Taurin. Therefore, I'm asking you two things. First, look after the girl." His voice fell to almost a whisper as he continued. "Also, if you survive this journey, I want you to keep the stone. Something tells me that if anyone can keep it from our enemies and one day put it to good use, it's you. Do your best, Taurin." Then he turned on his heels and strode away, a shadow disappearing into the deeper blackness of the night.
Try as he might, Taurin could not settle into a proper sleep that night. He lay restlessly on the bed, looking up at the ceiling, and the comfortable mattress might as well have been as hard as stone. The constant beating of rain outside was distracting rather than comforting, and as night lengthened, a thunderstorm set in. Every time Taurin thought he would drift off, a loud peal would return him to full alertness. The flash of lightning, visible as the occasional yellow blur through the heavy windows, was equally unsettling. Beside him, Ravena slept without any troubles, unless it was that she occasionally moaned in her sleep and shifted uneasily as if her dreams were not pleasant ones.
Tomorrow would see him embark upon a journey towards a cave that Morathia seemed sure would challenge even the Collector. It would be a dangerous enough adventure even if it were not for the rogue who also sought the stone. Sighing, he wondered whether his father would be fully recovered before Taurin returned—if I return—and if so, what he would think when he could not find his son. If I had have known all of this would happen, I would have never come to Peldor. I would have stayed at home. It was certainly the truth, but he realised at the same time that dwelling on the past would accomplish very little. What mattered was the future, the mystery that awaited him beyond a sealed entrance bearing the royal crest. With any luck I won't be able to open it. Then we can turn around and go home. He knew that he was being futile even before he finished the thought. He would be able to break the seal. It was the one thing he was sure of. Not that it made any difference; if he could not unseal the cave, Ravena would insist they wait around and then follow the Collector inside. That girl will get both of us killed before all of this is over. With that thought—somewhere between despair and exasperation—still in his head, he eventually settled into a light sleep. His dreams were surprisingly calm.
Equally surprising was his mood when he awoke the next morning, stirred from sleep by the gentle warmth of sunlight falling across his face. He felt oddly refreshed—more refreshed than he had a right to be, given that he had slept for only a few hours—and ready for their long journey. By no means was he looking forward to what lay ahead but he felt oddly certain that he could handle it.
Ravena still slept, her smooth face peaceful and her breathing even. Reluctantly placing a hand on her shoulder, Taurin gently brought her awake. "Time to get started on your foolish adventure," he explained, and was surprised to find himself smiling. His sense of satisfaction was complete when she muttered sleepily and closed her eyes again. Shaking his head, he roused her and half-lifted, half-dragged her to her feet. "Time to save the world, Ravena," he declared mockingly. Yawning and rubbing sleep from her eyes, the dark-haired girl finally came fully awake.
Indicating that he should wait, she disappeared through the bedroom door. When she eventually returned, the torn purple silks that she had worn for the past two days were gone, replaced by more suitable travelling garb—brown tights and shirt that were not as tattered as her previous clothing. Glancing at his own shirt and pants, still caked with mud and flecked with leaves, Taurin momentarily regretted not returning to his room at the Pirate's Haven the previous night. Ravena had also brought a backpack, filled with some equipment they might need as well as "all the food I had left". Satisfied that she had everything they required, she led him downstairs and towards the ivy-coated exit.
They were about to step outside when Ravena spotted two pouches placed just inside the entrance. Each was accompanied by a slip of parchment bearing instructions. She picked up the first pouch—a small bag as black as midnight—read the note and examined the instructions, and then passed it to Taurin. The instructions read, It will explode upon striking its target if thrown hard enough. Use it well. The pouch contained a craggy white stone that fitted easily in Taurin's hand, and looked fragile, as if it were ready to crumble. "Probably from Jasen," he suggested, and looked at Ravena, who nodded. He put it carefully away, and took the second bag Ravena offered him. This one was brown. The note read, These are not to eat! They are for the friends you will find in the woods to the west. Curious, Taurin opened the bag. To his great surprise, it contained four orange sticks that he quickly recognised as being carrots. He shook his head in confusion, and closed the pouch.
"I have no idea, either," commented Ravena, seeing the look on his face. "I'll be interested to see what sort of friends are waiting in the woods."
If we even make it that far, Taurin thought glumly, and quickly pushed the thought from his head. He would not dwell on the possibility—the near-certainty—of failure. He would simply do his best and last for as long as he could. Jasen—and Ravena—could ask for no more. "Let's go," he requested, finding Ravena's eyes and holding her inquisitive gaze. "I'm ready to find out what's in store for us."
They stepped outside, and Taurin was relieved to see that the rain had passed. The sky was overcast, though sunlight broke through far to the east, and a faint fog clung to the ground, obscuring their vision and reducing the light from the street lamps to a faint blur. Ravena led him through the town, pausing only occasionally to determine which street she should take, and before long they had reached the city gates.
The long bridge ran from beneath the gateway and connected with hard earth on the other side of the city's moat. The land beyond stretched out in all directions, a flat expanse dotted with the occasional tree and the even rarer dwelling. Far to the west—where they would initially be heading—the fog grew thicker, and choked off all vision, a white wall that marked the end of the visible world. The last time Taurin had crossed this bridge had been when he and his father entered Peldor, having no idea what awaited. It seemed like a lifetime ago. In reality, it was only three days.
Seeing his hesitation, Ravena stopped at the mouth of the bridge and smiled encouragingly. "This isn't the time to be having second thoughts." Taurin did his best to look determined, and then set foot onto the bridge. And with that, he was out of Peldor and into the wide lands that lay outside its gates. If he had looked up, he would have seen Morathia standing on the city walls far above, a dark smudge against the pale dawn.