Part II: Where Trust Begins

It felt like a mountain had fallen on top of her. She hurt all over and her head felt like it had been through a clothes press. She opened her eyes and started. Where was she? This wasn't Mist! Where was her mother!

She looked around frantically and instinctively grasped for her rod. There was no rod, only blankets.

It was a dark room with pillars on both sides of it and curtains hanging between them. Torches were hanging from brackets on the pillars and the light they cast filtered through the heavy curtains and allowed Rydia to see rows of beds.

Was this an inn? She had never seen a place like it in her life. With a chill, she wondered is she was dead and this was the hall of the Summoned. No. She hurt too much to be dead, this had to be somewhere, but it definitely wasn't Mist.

"You're awake," she heard a voice say and she nearly jumped out of her bed.

She cast her eyes around, trying to find her addressor and they finally rested on a dark figure half buried in the shadows. How had she not seen him before? Then again, he did look very much like a statue.

She clamped her mouth shut and forced back any tears from her eyes. It was the man with the bull shaped helmet, its horns making strange shapes on the wall when they caught the light. Why did he keep his mask on? Coward. Couldn't even let the girl whose mother he killed and village he burned see his face?

He moved and she tensed.

"My name is Cecil. I know I probably can't be forgiven for what I've done…but at least let me protect you," he said softly, mournfully.

She stared into the black caverns of his helmet that were supposed to be eyes. She felt nothing but anger. Forgive him?

That wouldn't bring her mother or her friends back. Nothing he could do would ever bring them back or erase the memory etched in her mind; the feel of the flames and the choking heat of the smoke…She couldn't forgive him. Where was the other for that matter, the dragon head? Why wasn't he asking for "forgiveness" too?

He turned his head away from her and moved to the bed beside hers. He just sat there, not moving for a very long time.

Rydia's eyes burned. She felt so empty. She couldn't smell the hills anymore, the grass, the fine mist, she couldn't hear the other children's voices when everyone was playing in the village square; even her mother's voice was fading into a background of memories filled with fear and smoke. Her world was gone. Everyone in it was gone and she was here all alone with this man, this murderer. How dare he ask her for forgiveness! He and the other had burned everything to the ground and now she was all alone.

She started to hiccup with sobs. She sank back into her bed and buried her face, trying not to let him hear her pain. But she was so tired. Her eyelids were growing heavy and she was having difficulty keeping her focus. She just wanted to disappear. Maybe if she closed her eyes she'd wake up somewhere else. Maybe this wasn't real. Just a dream. Just a dream…

She had finally drifted off to sleep when a door opened with a low, heavy thud and men's voices boomed between the pillars in the room. They were loud, intent, and angry.

Her eyes snapped open and she jumped with alarm. She tried to bury herself in her blankets and saw that the knight, who called himself Cecil, reach for his sword.

The curtains between the first set of pillars nearest the door were swept back, exposing the first two beds in the room; then the second. They were looking for something—someone.

"Cecil, show yourself!" a bristling voice commanded.

Rydia glanced at the knight as he drew his weapon. At that instant, the last set of curtains was drawn back and Rydia squinted against the bright torchlight that spilled across her face.

"Hand her over!" a man in armor standing in the center of three others ordered, pointing at her.

"What!" Cecil demanded.

"His Majesty knew the summoners would pose a threat, so he ordered them wiped out. Now hand over the girl!"

Cecil stood with his sword and stepped in front of Rydia, shielding her.

"No."

"You refuse? The king will not be pleased with your insubordination."

"I will no longer obey such orders. I will not hand over the girl."

"Very well. Take him down!"

Rydia was terrified. Who were these men and why were they after her—a little girl!

Three guards advanced towards her and Cecil with their swords drawn.

Cecil avoided the first man's blows and returned with a strike below the man's arm where he was unprotected and threw him backward. The next he struck across the chest, and on the backstroke, drove his sword into the man's helmet, dropping him to the ground.

The third guard managed to hit Cecil's knee but he too was thwarted a moment later with a crunching sound as his breastplate gave out beneath Cecil's sword. The captain looked at his fallen men in dismay.

Cecil leveled his sword at the captain but the captain only narrowed his eyes.

"I won't forget this," he said darkly, as he backed away and then fled from the inn.

Cecil stood in the center of the room, motionless. Rydia was overcome with shock. She wanted to turn her eyes away from the fallen guards, but couldn't. These men had come to kill her—kill ­her—and there they were on the floor—dead.

She looked at Cecil and he turned.

She was completely dumbfounded.

"Why did you…" she trailed off.

Why had he protected her? What were his reasons? Was he being honest or was he trying to trick her?Her mind spun in a hundred different directions at once. She was only seven! These sorts of things don't happen to seven-year-olds! She wished her mother were here to help her make the right decision, to figure all this out…

And then out of nowhere she found words.

"My name's Rydia," she said quietly.

"Rydia," he repeated, testing it, "I'm so sorry, Rydia…"

She stared at him and he studied her in return.

"You protected me."

"I won't let any harm come to you, not after what I've done. The least I can do is that," he confessed.

Maybe it wasn't him that burned the village, she thought. Maybe it was a mistake. If he had really wanted to kill everyone, he would have turned her over to those men. Maybe she could trust him--just maybe--and find out who really had killed her mother.

Staring at him she realized that he was the only person who could answer her questions. All of the confusion that she felt, he could take her to the answer. She couldn't stay behind anymore, it wasn't safe. More men might come after her. She would follow him until she knew the truth.

She hadn't given it a thought when he asked earlier, but he had given her another chance. She was still alive, and she felt that maybe—possibly--she could forgive him…at least enough to go with him for now. With watery eyes she looked up at him and said the only thing she could say—

"Thank-you."