Prince Terian woke to a loud thud of something heavy falling. Sitting up,
he looked around sleepily and blinked as he saw a shadow lying on the floor
next to his bed. As his vision cleared, he saw, in the scant moonlight, the
shape of a man, lying prone on his floor in a very strange way. Why was
there a man in his room? His sleep-befuddled mind still puzzling over this,
his gaze fell on a puddle on his floor-in the light, he saw it was tinted
red. Suddenly he realized what he hadn't realized before. There was a dead
man lying on the ground in his room! Terror stricken, Terian screamed.
A minute later, Sir Michael, whose room was next to his, was at his door, sword drawn. It was Sir Luke, who came right after him, that had the good sense to bring a candle, which flickeringly illuminated the scene. As the other knights came in one after the other, they looked silently at the picture that lay before them. A large, dirty-clothed and bearded man lay slightly on his side on the floor, his limbs stretched in a gruesome, unnatural shape. He was propped up on the arrow that had shot him, blood still trickling slowly onto the floor and forming a small puddle. Shadow and light played around his form as the candle danced, and then a glimmer caught the attention of Sir Bertram. He bent down to see what it was, and came up with a grim face, a knife in his hand.
"We have been too lenient."
^^^^^^^^^^^^
William turned to look at Bertram and saw, aghast, the deadly blade that he held. More candles were cautiously lighted, and the dagger was laid on a desk, in plain view of all. By now, William saw, Terian had gotten out of bed, and was, like everyone else, examining the cold steel that had almost killed him. Stooping down, William looked at the corpse instead, bringing a candle down with him. A mercenary, probably, judging by his untrained appearance and filth. This was not the look of a real soldier. That, at least was a relief-it meant that no other country wanted to assassinate the prince. Who the person was or why the attempt had taken place, he didn't know. All in Kyrria thought that the King and Queen were good rulers, and felt sure that the Prince would be too. Nudging the man onto his back, he gripped the top of the arrow shaft and pulled, easing it out. A few minutes later, he had in his hand a straight, long, and nicely shaped arrow, one that was certainly professionally made. Squeezing his way in between the other knights, who were now discussing the reason and way of the attack in hushed tones, he put the arrow next to the dagger on the table, and then spoke.
"How come this man, who very nearly killed Prince Terian, is now dead, shot by an arrow that pierced his heart?" As if on cue, a breeze blew in through the stillness, making the candles flicker, and one went out.
"The window," Garram breathed. Carefully skirting the dead mercenary, he walked over to it. "There's a tree just outside, but nothing else," he reported, and then joined them again. William, meanwhile, was staring at the feathers on the arrow, trying to remember something that just eluded his grasp.
"What is it, Willi?" Luke asked.
"Those feathers. I've got it! I know where I recognized those from." William reached into his pocket and brought out the slightly crumpled feather that he had pocketed a day ago, then lay it down carefully. "They're the same size, shape, and color. This," he touched the loose black feather "is one of the ones that we found in that small cave we slept in last night. Do you think there may be a coincidence?"
"Well," the deep voice of Sir Jonathan said, "I might think so, but there's something else that I think you aren't telling us, William."
He sighed. Yes, now was the time to tell the rest of them what he had seen. "This might sound incredible, but it's true. Last night, I was riding in the woods, looking for shelter like the rest of us, when I quite clearly heard a horse snort. I assumed that it was one of you, so I called out, but no one answered. Then I heard hoof beats, moving away from me at a slow pace. I called again, but I heard nothing. My curiosity was exited, so I followed the sound, and the horse I think I was following sped up when I did. I never saw it. And then, when I got to the cliff, it was gone. I couldn't hear it anymore, see it, and I checked the day after-there were a few horse tracks, smaller than those of our steeds, that just ended, as if the maker had disappeared. I didn't tell you because I thought I might have imagined it, but now I'm pretty sure that I was, amazing as it may sound, led there." A little embarrassed, he looked around at the mixed reactions of his audience. Terian, he saw, looked exited and a trifle scared. The knights' faces ranged from amused, to questioning, to thoughtful, to scornful, and to believing.
"Ridiculous," Sir Jonathan said. "How can a horse disappear? And how does this all fit together?"
"If this is true, however," Natal countered, "what would it mean? Something leads you to a cave, where we found the same feathers as we now find on an arrow that killed an assassin."
"And they might not be the same feathers," was Terian's addition to the conversation.
"I don't know," William said. "I don't understand it any more that you do. At first guess, I would say we were being followed, but that seems impossible, for we haven't seen anyone but ourselves the whole route. And it's true, the feathers might be different, and I might have imagined the horse. It's all a great puzzle to me."
The others nodded thoughtfully, and they continued to discuss till long into the night.
^^^^^^^^^
Tayli, meanwhile, was lying stretched out on the ground in the forest, next to Moonflight, who she had moved. Shock still coursed through her body, and it was lucky that she had had enough wits to jump from the tree as soon as the man fell and run for the forest. She shook all over, as she had been for a while, trying vainly to get to sleep. But she couldn't.
She had killed a man. She, Tayli, had killed someone; put an end to their spirit, their strength, and their life with one swift, thoughtless shot. Should she have done it? Could she have done otherwise? There was a heavy burden on her shoulders, one that she desperately wanted to shake off. 'Killer,' the whole forest seemed to whisper, accusing her of the dreadful crime that she knew she had committed. Yes, he had been an enemy. Yes, not killing him would have made her a helper, in a way, in the prince's murder. But she still shuddered. Was it really anyone's right to put an end to the life of another? Could she go on, knowing that she was the guilty extinguisher of a person's flame? The man had had life, probably family, possibly friends. What had she done, loading this on them so? Breaking one of the many links of the universe that was a separate spirit, killing someone. Tayli tried to convince herself that she had done right-nay, she knew that she had done right already, but still the knowledge seemed to weigh on her.
Murderer, the forest murmured.
Killer.
$$$$$$$$$$$$$
A/N: So, how do you like it? This chapter doesn't have much going on, I know, but I wanted to give you a little insight on everyone's feelings. I'm upset. No one is reviewing! You don't deserve this chapter, you know.
A minute later, Sir Michael, whose room was next to his, was at his door, sword drawn. It was Sir Luke, who came right after him, that had the good sense to bring a candle, which flickeringly illuminated the scene. As the other knights came in one after the other, they looked silently at the picture that lay before them. A large, dirty-clothed and bearded man lay slightly on his side on the floor, his limbs stretched in a gruesome, unnatural shape. He was propped up on the arrow that had shot him, blood still trickling slowly onto the floor and forming a small puddle. Shadow and light played around his form as the candle danced, and then a glimmer caught the attention of Sir Bertram. He bent down to see what it was, and came up with a grim face, a knife in his hand.
"We have been too lenient."
^^^^^^^^^^^^
William turned to look at Bertram and saw, aghast, the deadly blade that he held. More candles were cautiously lighted, and the dagger was laid on a desk, in plain view of all. By now, William saw, Terian had gotten out of bed, and was, like everyone else, examining the cold steel that had almost killed him. Stooping down, William looked at the corpse instead, bringing a candle down with him. A mercenary, probably, judging by his untrained appearance and filth. This was not the look of a real soldier. That, at least was a relief-it meant that no other country wanted to assassinate the prince. Who the person was or why the attempt had taken place, he didn't know. All in Kyrria thought that the King and Queen were good rulers, and felt sure that the Prince would be too. Nudging the man onto his back, he gripped the top of the arrow shaft and pulled, easing it out. A few minutes later, he had in his hand a straight, long, and nicely shaped arrow, one that was certainly professionally made. Squeezing his way in between the other knights, who were now discussing the reason and way of the attack in hushed tones, he put the arrow next to the dagger on the table, and then spoke.
"How come this man, who very nearly killed Prince Terian, is now dead, shot by an arrow that pierced his heart?" As if on cue, a breeze blew in through the stillness, making the candles flicker, and one went out.
"The window," Garram breathed. Carefully skirting the dead mercenary, he walked over to it. "There's a tree just outside, but nothing else," he reported, and then joined them again. William, meanwhile, was staring at the feathers on the arrow, trying to remember something that just eluded his grasp.
"What is it, Willi?" Luke asked.
"Those feathers. I've got it! I know where I recognized those from." William reached into his pocket and brought out the slightly crumpled feather that he had pocketed a day ago, then lay it down carefully. "They're the same size, shape, and color. This," he touched the loose black feather "is one of the ones that we found in that small cave we slept in last night. Do you think there may be a coincidence?"
"Well," the deep voice of Sir Jonathan said, "I might think so, but there's something else that I think you aren't telling us, William."
He sighed. Yes, now was the time to tell the rest of them what he had seen. "This might sound incredible, but it's true. Last night, I was riding in the woods, looking for shelter like the rest of us, when I quite clearly heard a horse snort. I assumed that it was one of you, so I called out, but no one answered. Then I heard hoof beats, moving away from me at a slow pace. I called again, but I heard nothing. My curiosity was exited, so I followed the sound, and the horse I think I was following sped up when I did. I never saw it. And then, when I got to the cliff, it was gone. I couldn't hear it anymore, see it, and I checked the day after-there were a few horse tracks, smaller than those of our steeds, that just ended, as if the maker had disappeared. I didn't tell you because I thought I might have imagined it, but now I'm pretty sure that I was, amazing as it may sound, led there." A little embarrassed, he looked around at the mixed reactions of his audience. Terian, he saw, looked exited and a trifle scared. The knights' faces ranged from amused, to questioning, to thoughtful, to scornful, and to believing.
"Ridiculous," Sir Jonathan said. "How can a horse disappear? And how does this all fit together?"
"If this is true, however," Natal countered, "what would it mean? Something leads you to a cave, where we found the same feathers as we now find on an arrow that killed an assassin."
"And they might not be the same feathers," was Terian's addition to the conversation.
"I don't know," William said. "I don't understand it any more that you do. At first guess, I would say we were being followed, but that seems impossible, for we haven't seen anyone but ourselves the whole route. And it's true, the feathers might be different, and I might have imagined the horse. It's all a great puzzle to me."
The others nodded thoughtfully, and they continued to discuss till long into the night.
^^^^^^^^^
Tayli, meanwhile, was lying stretched out on the ground in the forest, next to Moonflight, who she had moved. Shock still coursed through her body, and it was lucky that she had had enough wits to jump from the tree as soon as the man fell and run for the forest. She shook all over, as she had been for a while, trying vainly to get to sleep. But she couldn't.
She had killed a man. She, Tayli, had killed someone; put an end to their spirit, their strength, and their life with one swift, thoughtless shot. Should she have done it? Could she have done otherwise? There was a heavy burden on her shoulders, one that she desperately wanted to shake off. 'Killer,' the whole forest seemed to whisper, accusing her of the dreadful crime that she knew she had committed. Yes, he had been an enemy. Yes, not killing him would have made her a helper, in a way, in the prince's murder. But she still shuddered. Was it really anyone's right to put an end to the life of another? Could she go on, knowing that she was the guilty extinguisher of a person's flame? The man had had life, probably family, possibly friends. What had she done, loading this on them so? Breaking one of the many links of the universe that was a separate spirit, killing someone. Tayli tried to convince herself that she had done right-nay, she knew that she had done right already, but still the knowledge seemed to weigh on her.
Murderer, the forest murmured.
Killer.
$$$$$$$$$$$$$
A/N: So, how do you like it? This chapter doesn't have much going on, I know, but I wanted to give you a little insight on everyone's feelings. I'm upset. No one is reviewing! You don't deserve this chapter, you know.