Silas
Silas saw the creatures coming at him. He raised his sword, ready to strike, not noticing the one that had come at him from the side, its sharp claws ready to rip into his side.
"Eryn," he cried, giving her warning of the attack.
The word hadn't even finished coming from his mouth, when he found himself stumbling forward, avoiding the unseen attack. Around him, the creatures were screaming, gushing blood, and falling to the ground.
"Eryn," he said again. He spun around, searching for her, finding her in the center of the carnage, laying on the ground with blood running from both eyes. What had she done?
A body plummeted from the side of the crevasse, landing on its back, an arrow jutting from its neck. He looked up and saw the rest of the beasts were gone. Or dead? He saw the bow lying next to her, and that her quiver was half empty. Somehow, she had attacked them all in the span of a single breath. Somehow, her Curse had made her impossibly fast.
He didn't know all that it meant, but he knew enough. He bent down and put his ear to her chest, hearing her heart still beating. She was unconscious again, but alive. He picked her up, carrying her like he had from the soldier's camp. He didn't have a horse to help them get away this time.
He took her as far as his legs would bear, out of the crevasse and upward, to higher, more defensible ground. It was a slow and grueling climb, but he was desperate to get her to safety. His soldiers would be on the move by now, and he needed to find a place for them to hide. It would have been difficult enough with her awake.
Not that he could fault her. She had saved his life with her Curse. She had been right, he realized. The Curse was the way she was hunted, not the powers that she held. Although, he could only imagine how such an ability could be abused by the wrong person. He was grateful Eryn had such a strong, kind soul.
Good fortune was with them. They were almost to the top of one of the flat, stepped hills when Silas spotted a thick covering of trees and brush two steps down on the western side. The trees abutted a curved outcropping of rock from the next step up, and he was sure that he could see the dark shadow of a cave of some kind nestled in between.
He hated to have to leave her alone, but Silas placed Eryn on the ground. He took her book and quiver from her, and rushed towards the trees. He didn't even try to descend the steps on his feet, but rather allowed himself to slide on his back. Small stones tore into his cloak and scraped him, but he ignored the pain. He didn't have a lot of time.
"There you are," he said, reaching the trees and finding that there was a small cave pushing into the side of the hill. It was four feet tall, and eight feet wide, a crack in the earth that vanished into the depths. Silas notched an arrow to Eryn's bow and held it ready while he ducked under the lip of the cave, walking in a tight crouch. He was dependent on nothing more than luck that the space wasn't occupied by anything dangerous.
Small rodents scurried away from him, and he felt his head brush by creatures that turned out to be bats, who flapped in his face and evacuated the cave.
He only went in about ten feet. The light wouldn't penetrate any further, and he had no way to create his own. The ceiling had gotten lower and lower as he progressed, so he didn't think it continued much further. He turned and ran back out of the cave. When he reached the outside, he began collecting wood from the ground around the trees.
Within an hour, he had started a fire at the mouth of the cave, a small one that produced little smoke. He collected leaves and branches and brush to cover the cave face from sight, and then removed his cloak and threw it into the corner. Finally, he began taking the items from Eryn's quiver, so that he could place it and the bow inside the cave. The first thing he found was a coin purse, and he opened it laid it next to him, to put the other items in.
He marveled once more at the blue stone when he transferred it to the purse, and he was curious about the red crystal clasp, holding it up and turning it in his hand while he wondered if it had power like the stone did. Neither affected him like the final item he found, shoved into the corner and nearly forgotten.
He held it up in front of him, turning it so it would catch as much light as possible. He examined it closely, measuring the size and the shape. Then he felt the inner edge, tracing his hands over a light but identifiable scoring.
His eyes filled with tears, and he couldn't breathe.
He knew the ring he was holding. He had given it to Alyssa on their wedding day.
Always.
That was what he had paid the artisan to inscribe on the inside of the band, a promise of his devotion. How in Heden did it wind up in Eryn's quiver?
He closed his eyes, trying to remember. He saw Alyssa again, right before she left to sail away to the unknown lands. She wasn't wearing the ring. When had she lost it? Who had she lost it to?
He saw her, the day he had told her what he had done.
Murderer.
She had called him that, and worse. She had slapped him, and punched him, and thrown things at him. He blinked his eyes quickly, trying to clear the tears. She hadn't been wearing the ring then either. Why not?
Silas clutched the ring tight, squeezing it so hard it began to cut into his hand. He kissed the outside of his hand, and then placed the ring in the coin purse. He would ask Eryn about it later. Right now, he had work to do.
He finished setting up the camp, and rushed back to where he had left Eryn, praying that she had been safe in the hours he was gone. He found her right where he had left her, still resting almost peacefully on the thick carpet of grass.
"Where did you get it?" he asked her sleeping form.
He looked at her closely. The shape of her face, the set of her eyes, the rise of her nose. He saw something there, features that could have belonged to Aren. Could she be his grandchild? He shook his head. It was so easy to see things that weren't there, to fill in the blanks for the explanation that he sought so desperately. Aren had been Cursed. The Cursed couldn't have children. Everyone knew that.
The thought saddened him. How proud he would be to have a grandchild like Eryn. He put a gentle hand to her face, and then picked her up again. He turned and looked back at the campsite he had made, and then he headed south.
It didn't take him long to find the soldiers. They too had left the horses behind to climb up into the Rushes. They moved on foot, trying to be quiet, but metal armor would never be good at that. They had spread out along the steps, their eyes seeking signs of his and Eryn's passage. He crouched with her behind a thorny bush, watching and waiting. The timing was everything.
The soldiers swept ever closer to his spot behind the bush. He was still on a step over them, so it would be hard for them to locate him there. He had his sword laying on the ground in front of him, but he hoped he wouldn't need it. That wasn't what he had worked so hard for.
The soldiers came closer.
One of them was on the step below him, only a dozen feet from the bush. The moment his commander gave them the order to move up, Silas would be forced to kill him. He reached down and grabbed the hilt of his sword, readying himself for that moment. Eryn lay next to him, still asleep.
A silent alarm came cascading through the line, a hand signal passed from one to the next to follow to the west. They had found the camp. He had tried to hide it, but he hadn't done a good enough job.
He had done a perfect job.
They rushed off, and Silas picked Eryn up and carried her south behind them. His body ached everywhere, and he was hungry, thirsty, and tired, but both of their lives depended on him. He refused to let her down.
***
He nearly collapsed from exhaustion more than once. When he crossed back through the crevasse where the monsters had attacked them, he was surprised to find the creatures were gone, the only evidence they had ever been there the blood stains and discarded arrows on the grass. He hoped that something worse hadn't come and claimed them, or if it had that it wouldn't show itself to him. He made it through without trouble.
Night had fallen by the time he found himself behind another bush, every muscle in his body screaming for relief. He was looking down on the soldier's base camp, where they had left a single man to care for their horses while they conducted the search. He would stay for a few days, and if they didn't return he would bring the horses back to Elling and the soldiers would have to walk their way home.
Faced with the soldier, Silas wished he had kept the bow. The sword was a risky proposition, especially in his state of weakness.
"I'll be right back," he whispered to Eryn. He looked over the bush again, finding the soldier facing away from him, sitting in front of a small fire. He had his cloak raised up to keep himself warm, so Silas couldn't even see his face.
He crept down the slope of the first step, taking seconds between each footfall to ensure that he didn't make a sound. He kept his ears and eyes focused on the surrounding area, in case more than one of his men had stayed behind.
Minutes passed. He inched closer. The only sounds he heard were the crackle of the flames, and the beating of his heart. To his left, the horses shifted and whined, unsure of the newcomer. The motion got the attention of the soldier, and he turned his head.
"What's wrong, boys?" the voice asked.
A woman's voice.
His army didn't allow women.
Unless they were Mediators.
Silas stopped.
She turned around, and smiled.
"Silas, I presume?" she asked. "It's an honor to meet you."
She was only a little taller than Eryn, her hair straight and black, her features sharp. She had almond-shaped eyes, and a tiny nose, and wore a simple black dress with the red eye painted on the chest.
He stood still, trying to decide what to do. Whatever happened, he had to protect Eryn.
"An honor?" he asked.
She smiled. "I forgot. You don't remember. Well, it doesn't matter anyway, now. I had a feeling you might try to outwit the soldiers, and come back down. Where is the girl?"
"Dead," he said without hesitation. "Something lives in the Rushes. A creature unlike any I've ever seen."
She seemed surprised. "Really?" She put her hand to her chin, pressing her thumb against her lips in thought. "It's a shame she didn't make it. She had so much promise. He would have taken very good care of her."
"What do you mean? You were going to kill her."
She stood up and took a few steps towards him. "We were, in the beginning. You were there, you saw what she did at the collection point. She's strong for her age and experience. It is not unheard of, but it is rare. He needs Cursed like her."
"And like you?"
She smiled again. "And like me."
"Why?"
"To hunt for the others."
"Why? Why do you kill your own kind?"
She paused at that, a hurt expression crossing her face. She started to say something, but then stopped. "It doesn't matter, Silas. My orders are to kill you on sight. I was supposed to try to speak with the girl, Eryn. I suppose I can't now." She looked saddened by that. "I'm sorry to be the one to do this. Believe me when I say I will carry the guilt of your death for the rest of my life."
Silas was confused by the words, but he didn't have time to question them. The Mediator raised her left hand from under her cloak, revealing a shining metal rod. At the end of the rod was an irregular white stone the size of a small fist.
Silas shouted and charged, holding his sword up in front of him, racing towards the Mediator before her power could be unleashed.
He was too slow.
White light flared from the rod and shot towards him. He could feel it coming, an intense coldness unlike anything he'd ever known. There was no time to get out of the way.
Pure instinct caused him to bring the Mediator's sword up in front of the light, to try to block it. He felt the cold of it against his hands, and he watched as the sword began to glow with the same white light, as though it was absorbing the energy. In fact, he felt resistance, like the power was pushing against the blade and the blade was pushing back. He kept fighting his way forward, his hands growing numb but the sword keeping the light from reaching the rest of him.
The Mediator creased her brow, her eyes dripping blood, the pace of the flow increasing as she concentrated, trying to force the energy from the stone past the sword.
Silas inched forward, the muscles in his arms threatening to fail. He was so tired, but somehow he held on and kept pushing against the power, growing ever closer to the Mediator.
He never had to touch her. He gave one last shove, and she broke. The energy gathered in the blade reversed, pouring back towards her in a blinding light. Her eyes went wide in fear, and then she was hit. Her frozen body fell backwards, hit the ground, and shattered. Only the rod remained.
Silas dropped the sword and began rubbing his hands together, trying to force away the cold that had seeped in. They itched like crazy, but he knew if they itched that meant they would be okay.
It was clear the weapons the Mediators held were made of the ore he set so many prisoners to mine. It was obvious to him now why they needed them. To protect themselves from the power they unleashed, and to defend themselves from others with the same power.
He limped back to the bush where Eryn was stationed, and carried her down to the camp. They would be safe there for at least a day while the soldiers scoured the Rushes in search of them. They wouldn't be able to make the trip north to the sea, but that was fine with Silas.
He had a new idea on how to get into Elling.