I looked from right to left, weighing my options. Neither passage seemed particularly friendly in my opinion, and neither looked like it would bring us safely out of the Huryl citadel. I walked to the centre of the crossroads, past Jakob, and made a pretence of studying the area as if it would somehow make the decision for me. I turned to meet the eyes of my companions, hoping that one of them would give me a look other than blind trust. Jakob, Cyrus, Damaeon, and Will all regarded me with the utmost confidence that I would lead them to safety. Fynn, on the other hand, was not looking at me at all. He was staring down the right hand passageway, his brown eyes narrowed in concentration. Blinking, I allowed my gaze to follow his, curious as to what had caught his attention.
The voices that had been coming from the right had abruptly ceased, and then came back as softened whispers. I strained to hear what was being said, but the sound of rapidly approaching footsteps filled my ears instead. As the echoing sound grew nearer, I spun around and pointed down the left passage.
“This way,” I decided. At least, I reasoned, the people down this hall didn’t know we were coming.
We hurried towards the sound of clashing swords, away from the voices who threatened to chase us down the hallway. I winced as the clang of metal on metal grew louder, and realized miserably that I was the only one of my companions who was armed. Clothis’ sword bumped against my back and I wondered if my guardian spectre would make another miraculous appearance.
I lead the way, followed closely by Jakob and Will. Cyrus came next, still supporting the injured Damaeon, and Fynn brought up the rear. It wasn’t long before I saw a bright light in the shape of a doorway ahead of us, and a smile flew to my lips. Sunlight! We were heading in the right direction after all. I picked up the pace, eager to be free of the dismal stone walls of the citadel. At the doorway, however, Jakob caught my arm and pulled me back, putting a finger to his lips. I dutifully pursed my own lips shut as he cautiously peered out. Curiousity getting the better of me, I peeked over his shoulder.
It looked like a large playground to my untrained eyes. Surrounded on all sides by tall stone walls, it was an open courtyard about half the size of a football field. The ground was covered in yellow sand, with a stone walkway lining the rim. The sky above it was a dazzling blue, a flock of birds flying across the hanging sun. I took a deep breath of the fresh air and nearly stepped into the light when Jakob pointed to the cause of the clashing swords.
The arena was full of Huryl soldiers, doing mock battles with each other to prepare for the war with the Dyrel. There were hundreds of them, all armed and determined to serve their country. I swallowed hard. On the other side of the drilling soldiers was a tall wooden gate that undoubtedly lead to the city itself.
“We can sneak around the edge,” Jakob whispered, his mouth so close that I could feel the warmth of his breath on my ear.
I nodded and allowed him to take the lead. Motioning for the others to follow, we silently made our way around the sanded area towards the gate. We made it about half way around before our movement was noticed by the drill sergeant and a sharp whistle brought us to the attention of all the soldiers in the courtyard. Jakob pushed me behind him, drawing Clothis’ sword from the sheath on my back as he did so. Will held a long dagger he had stolen from somewhere and stood at my other side. I knew at once that resistance was pointless; we were outnumbered a hundred to one. The Huryl recruits surrounded us, their swords drawn and aimed at our throats.
I heard applause from somewhere among the soldiers, coming closer as whoever it was advanced. The troops melted away from the man, creating a channel through which he could pass safely to us. I recognized him right away.
“Mattis,” I said, my voice dripping with hatred.
The self-proclaimed prince of the Dyrel stood before us, clapping his hands together and smiling smugly. With a negligent gesture, all the Huryl surrounding us back off, disappearing through doorways until we stood alone in the now deserted courtyard.
“Leila,” Mattis said, ignoring the sword Jakob held at him. “I really must thank you for killing Cedrik. With him out of the way, nothing is stopping me from being king.”
I paled at the thought of Mattis in charge of all of the Huryl tribes. Glancing behind him, I saw Ellena standing a few paces away, watching with a worried expression on her face.
“To thank you,” Mattis continued, “I shall kill you first, Leila, so you won’t have to watch your friends suffer. But they will suffer, believe me.”
Jakob cried out in anger and tried to rush at Mattis, but Fynn put his hand on the former Huryl’s shoulder, holding him back. With a slight shake of his head, Fynn walked out from behind Jakob and stood unarmed in front of Mattis.
“You hold something you no longer deserve,” Fynn accused Mattis. “Release it.”
“Fynn?” I asked, wondering what on earth he was talking about.
“Never,” Mattis laughed. “It was given freely to me, and I will keep it forever.”
Behind him, Ellena lowered her head and clasped her hands in front of her. Fynn kept his eyes firmly on Mattis, holding out his hand as if expecting the Huryl commander to return something. Mattis drew his sword and swung at the Woodwalker, who easily avoided his clumsy blow.
“The locket you wear around your neck,” Fynn reminded him as they circled each other. “It contains a faerie’s wings. Return them to her.”
“No!” Mattis roared, clasping at his neck with his free hand.
“Aefynnelldar,” Ellena spoke up suddenly, taking a step towards him.
“He is not worthy of you,” Fynn spat, turning to face the sorceress.
“I love him,” she whispered.
“He does not love you. He cannot love you. All he desires is power, which you have given to him.”
My eyes widened as the full impact of the conversation hit me at once. I recalled my meeting with Ellena in the dungeons of the palace in Oponoe. She had spoken of her youth with Mattis, how easy it was for her to love him, until it was too late.
“I had alienated my family against me, and
they cast me aside. I was bound to Mattis by an unbreakable bond, and I am
still bound.” Ellena had said.
Ellena shook her head, her long blonde hair whipping across her face. “He does love me. I know he does. He has strayed from his path, but I can lead him back.”
Fynn backed up to where we were gathered, standing in slack jawed amazement. The Woodwalker held out his hand to Jakob, who placed Clothis’ sword in it without a word.
“Whatever happens,” Fynn said to me, “don’t interfere.”
I nodded mutely as Mattis lunged at Fynn again. This time, Fynn held up his weapon to block the attack, the sound of the two heavy swords clashing together echoed off the stone walls of the citadel. Ellena stood with her hands at her mouth, tears forming in her eyes as she watched the two men duel. I forced my eyes off the battle to look more closely at her, finally seeing the resemblance between her and the other faerie who served the Queen.
Fynn swung at Mattis, cutting him in the arm. The commander cried out in pain as blood welled to the surface, but the madness remained in his eyes as he screamed in anger.
“Give me strength so I can kill him,” Mattis cried to Ellena.
Wordlessly, she raised her hands to do as he bid. She hesitated and lowered her arms, shaking her head as she did so.
“Do it! I command you!” Mattis snarled. “I need more power.”
“I have given you too much power,” Ellena whispered.
Mattis roared in frustration and threw himself at Fynn again, lashing out with his sword and nearly striking. Fynn was able to dodge all of the blows, while inflicting several more minor wounds on his opponent. Ellena gasped and took a few steps towards him, her eyes full of worry.
“Stay away,” Mattis snapped. “I don’t need you if you won’t give me more power. Don’t come near me anymore.”
I winced inwardly as I saw the impact of those words register on Ellena’s face. She went limp, looking more like a porcelain doll than ever before. Tears streamed down her pale face as Fynn succeeded in knocking Mattis down and stood with the sword to his throat.
Reaching down with his free hand, Fynn tore the locket from Mattis’ neck and tossed it to Ellena. The sorceress caught it easily, her eyes still locked on Mattis. Glancing over his shoulder, Fynn’s eyes met those of the sorceress, and he nodded once to her. Lowering his hand once more, Fynn passed his hand through Mattis’ chest. I felt a sudden sickening feeling in the pit of my stomach and a wave of nausea swept over me.
“Leila, are you all right?” Jakob asked as I put my hand on his shoulder to steady myself.
I nodded, my eyes locked on Fynn. Mattis screamed in pain as Fynn extracted a glowing white sphere from his body and held it on the palm of his hand. Dropping Clothis’ sword into the sand, Fynn rose to his full height and raised his head to shout at the heavens.
“Majesty, a parting gift,” he called. “I give to thee my replacement, a new walker of the woods at night to gather for thee the mortal souls you desire. Accept it!”
A shimmering portal materialize in the courtyard of the Huryl citadel, and a faerie walked out, his wings shimmering in the sunlight. He held a silver wooden box lined with purple velvet. Bowing once to Fynn, the faerie opened the box, revealing a small silver locket inside. Fynn gently placed Mattis’ soul inside the box, watching as the locket absorbed it and the faerie snapped the lid shut.
My hand went to the locket around my neck, the one that had belonged to the Faerie Queen, stolen by Will and given to me for safe keeping. The soulless body of Mattis rose mechanically to its feet at a gesture from the faerie, and followed him through the white portal. In an instant, the faerie and the Huryl commander were gone. Fynn bent to retrieve Clothis’ sword and walked back to where we waited. He did not smile as he handed the weapon back to Jakob, but turned to face Ellena.
The sorceress stood with the locket in the palm of her hand. With trembling fingers, she opened it. He hair flew back as if as sudden gust of wind had struck her, revealing her pointed faerie ears. Glowing lights circled her warily, finally settling on her back as two large opalescent wings appeared, shimmering in the light. She gave the wings a shakes, a sad smile spreading across her delicate features.
“Thank you, Aefynnelldar,” she said. “I will speak to Her Majesty on your behalf.”
Fynn shook his head. “We are both freed now.”
Ellena bowed her head and disappeared through another white portal that appeared and vanished in the twinkling of an eye. Alone in the deserted courtyard, my head spinning at what had just happened, I could only stare in shock at Fynn.
“Shall we go?” he asked.
I nodded, when suddenly a blood curdling scream came from the citadel. It was a woman’s cry, reverberating off the stone walls. It sounded like whoever was screaming was terrified, or in pain. I wondered if perhaps it was one of Cedrik’s forgotten prisoners.
“Leila, come on,” Jakob said.
He and the others were already half way to the gate, but the memory of that scream still bounced through my head. If it was another prisoner, should we not try to save her? Or should we escape from the citadel while we could?