Dexter
09-05-2006, 10:33 AM
I wrote this about two years ago
first time i'm submitting a story here, so any constructive critisicm would be appreciated.. thanks
i hope to go into writing stories once i'm done with uni and have steady job =)
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Sheathed
The blades clashed again and the weaker swordsman withdrew. Threatening rain clouds hid the moonlight - the only light from the torches placed every ten metres on the battlements high above the castle walls. The flames shimmered as the weaker swordsman backed away, holding his sword out at his opponent.
‘What is the matter Valeron?’ taunted the stronger duellist. ‘Afraid to attack?’
Valeron momentarily stopped his retreat and glared at Vincentè. His opponent held his sword to the side; presenting openings Valeron knew to be decoys. Vincentè was too fast for Valeron, too strong. The man stood tall, confident in his abilities.
Valeron, merely twenty-two was more than enough for any average fighter, but to Vincentè he might as well have been a novice.
‘Well?’ asked Vincentè. As he took a step forward, light from the moon peeked through the clouds reflecting off his stationary blade.
Anger crossed Valeron’s face and he advanced with a frenzied attack. Vincentè parried and sent a riposte cutting Valeron’s cheek. The senior moved back from a vicious cut and Valeron ran forward again. Vincentè sighed as the blade came down. The boy was completely off balance…
Vincentè sidestepped, knocking aside Valeron’s blade, tripping him in the process. Valeron hit the stone floor hard and watched his sword clatter against the crenulated wall.
Vincentè sheathed his sword and helped Valeron to his feet. The junior did not look Vincentè in the eye. A quizzical look crossed Vincentè’s face.
‘Did you forget everything I taught you, brother?’ a sly smile appeared. ‘Or are you creating new fighting techniques?’
Valeron ignored Vincentè and walked to where his sword lay. He picked it up and glanced at the blade. The slender light from the moon reflected off the blade. Valeron turned around as the clouds moved over the moon, sighing as he sheathed his sword.
‘I am sorry, brother,’ Valeron finally said, his eyes hidden. ‘I’m still too slow.’
‘You are still learning.’ Vincentè smiled. ‘And you have a wicked temper. Try to keep it in check. I’ve told you before…’
‘…Anger must be harnessed, I know,’ said Valeron. ‘It’s just hard. When I get angry, it’s like a veil over my face. I don’t know.’ He shook his head. ‘Come on, let’s head back. Seems like it will rain.’
Vincentè gazed at Valeron, who was looking fearfully at the dark clouds. The trip down to the cabins would make it treacherous if it started to rain, the steps not yet fully repaired from the previous night’s attack on the castle.
Valeron headed off, tentatively descending the steps. He looked back. ‘Coming?’
Vincentè did not move. ‘Yeah.’
Drizzle started to fall and Vincentè slowly made his way to the steps. Looking down he saw that Valeron had reached the bottom and was running for cover. Raindrops fell down Vincentè’s face and he began the descent.
Did you forget everything I taught you, brother? Brother? No, not my real brother.
Vincentè reached the bottom and walked through the rain, heading for his room located at the far end. He passed the barracks and then the tavern, his clothes all but drenched. A serving girl in the tavern saw him and ushered him towards the door. He waved her away with a smile and continued towards his room in the downfall. Valeron and Vincentè were not blood brothers, merely a friendship lasting for more than seven years. Valeron had been found during the attack on Zenden castle. He was a child with the invaders. Vincentè had been defending Zenden.
As Vincentè entered his room he remembered the day. The enemy had smashed the second wall and had advanced mercilessly through the front line of the Zenden defence. Vincentè had been nineteen, and was hacking and slashing his way through the advancing men to try and stem the flow of attackers.
When the sun finally set, Vincentè knew he had proved himself to his seniors. No matter if I die now, he had thought. It was during the nighttime that a young boy from outside had run into the castle. The soldiers had been dumbfounded as to how the boy had entered. Vincentè and two others had chased the boy down. When they cornered him they saw he held a child.
‘My sister,’ he stammered through fearful eyes. ‘An arrow…she’s dying!’
The soldiers exchanged looks.
‘There’s no medicine. No bandages left,’ cried the boy. ‘Help her!’
Vincentè had sheathed his sword and stepped forward. ‘How did you get in?’
The boy’s eyes were wide. ‘My sister!’
Vincentè studied the youngster, and then told one of the soldiers to take the girl to one of the doctors. The soldier had queried as to how they were to accommodate one more, when more than a hundred soldiers were still waiting to be treated after days of lying in wait. Vincentè asked the boy’s name.
‘I am sorry Minash. We cannot help you either,’ Vincentè told the boy, surprised at the twinge of guilt he felt.
Minash’s face twisted in anger. He lay down his sister and when he looked up his eyes shone with menace. He suddenly produced a long knife from behind and leapt at Vincentè. He had managed to sway as the blade ripped by him and into the stomach of a soldier behind him. The second soldier quickly tried to draw his sword but the boys’ knife lashed across his face. Vincentè had backhanded Minash in the back of the head. The youth had fallen to the ground unconscious.
Vincentè had taken him to Master Joaquin. The old man had looked at the boy and the tattoo on his neck.
‘This is the son of Nishtaq. The demon possessed warrior,’ Joaquin had said.
‘You mean his father is possessed by a demon?’ asked Vincentè, slightly sceptical, yet still aware of Master Joaquin’s own additional abilities.
‘So some say,’ the old man said. ‘But I have seen him fight. His anger does not hinder him. It drives him. There is no light in those eyes. Had I not seen it I would not have believed the rumours.’
‘I saw him too.’
Joaquin had looked up fearfully. ‘We must kill this one. Who knows what evil runs through his blood?’
Vincentè had said nothing. Minash had woken then and he had looked around the room. ‘Who are you people?’
‘Minash…’ Vincentè had begun, trying to gather more information as to the boy’s entry.
‘Minash?’ the boy queried, a puzzling look upon his face. ‘Who is that?’
Master Joaquin had decided to let Vincentè not kill the boy. They had renamed him Valeron, and Vincentè had become best friends with him as the years went on.
‘Always remember,’ Master Joaquin had said. ‘We must never take our eyes off him… Valeron has great potential for evil. I can feel it…his spirit is full of it. Yet a small fire burns for good. You must bring it forth. We must not let the evil be unleashed, Vincentè. I sense it slipping out sometimes, like a faint light...’
*
Vincentè heard the clash of blades as he opened his door and stepped into the sunlight the following morning. In the centre of the courtyard, Vincentè spotted Valeron practicing his defences against four soldiers. Vincentè studied Valeron’s movements in the box of men for a while and then walked away to get some breakfast.
Valeron blocked a thrust and spun, elbowing a soldier in the face. He swung his sword above his head and turned as another came in, parrying another’s attack and striking the first with the flat of his blade.
‘Ok, that’s enough,’ said Valeron, bowing. The men returned the bow and Valeron thanked them for their session. All five men were dressed in soldier’s uniform in the Zenden colours of brown and green, their sheaths by their waists. So it was surprising for Valeron when he saw Vincentè walking some distance away. The elder swordsman wore a long black jacket, like a flowing robe.
‘Brother!’ called Valeron as he ran towards Vincentè. Vincentè slowed but did not turn. Valeron came alongside and the two walked on.
‘What’s with the jacket?’ asked Valeron.
Vincentè did not reply at first. His expression was fixed and he continued to stare forward. ‘You must not have heard,’ he said, his gaze still directed forward.
‘Heard about what?’
‘The recent attacks by the outlaw groups have become increasingly frequent,’ explained Vincentè. ‘The seniors now realise our organisation has been lacking, a point I have been emphasising for quite some time. They have now decided to appoint the most senior of each quadrant of the castle responsibility. I am now the leader of this quadrant. To signify this we are dressed differently to show our authority. I received these last night.’
Valeron thought it through. ‘You’re not the most senior in this quadrant though…’
‘Age does not matter,’ said Vincentè. ‘I may be younger but I have far greater skill than old Gezu. Besides, I have more fighting experience than he.’
‘That old sot,’ smiled Valeron. ‘Sitting behind the desk all day. I hope I don’t get promoted that high too quickly!’
Vincentè’s face finally cracked a smile. Valeron decided to take advantage and stepped into classified matters.
‘Tell me brother,’ said Valeron. ‘Why are these outlaws breaking into the castle?’
Vincentè stopped. Valeron swallowed hard and turned. He saw Vincentè’s jacket flow forward from the wind, and then back…to reveal the scabbard by his waist. The jacket covered it again. Valeron cursed himself. He thought Vincentè was unarmed. Asking such a question could easily result in a death sentence. Soldiers had to keep their place to keep all things flowing. The least each person knew the better.
‘They are not attacking the castle,’ said Vincentè.
‘Then?’
Vincentè moved past Valeron and into the dining hall.
‘Then what?’ pressed Valeron as they seated themselves.
‘The dungeons.’
Valeron sat confused for some time. ‘Why attack the dungeons?’
‘You ask too many questions, brother.’
Valeron fidgeted with his fork while Vincentè ordered some food. Valeron looked up to see Vincentè’s eyes on him.
‘What is it, brother?’ asked Valeron.
Vincentè’s face remained blunt as he spoke. ‘I am now your superior. Recent legislation requires me to display such titles.’
Valeron frowned. What the hell…?
‘You cannot sit with me…brother.’
Valeron’s face displayed bewilderment. It was then that he noticed the soldiers around him. For the first time he noticed their eyes on him. He looked back at Vincentè. The superior was still staring at him. Valeron wanted to protest but he saw everyone in the room glimpse with questioning looks. Valeron rose. Vincentè’s gaze was still focused.
‘Very well then…’ said Valeron as he bowed, ‘…my superior.’
Vincentè’s expression did not change. His face was set. As Valeron walked away though, he cursed inwardly.
It was midday when Valeron sneaked passed the guards in the lower levels of the castle. He descended two more sets of steps and then arrived at the staircase leading down to the dungeons. He knew there would be two guards down there. He could see the faint flicker of a candle in the darkness below. Valeron did not descend the steps, but moved to the window. He looked outside. The guard’s changeover would be in less than a minute. He waited a few feet away, leaning against a wall and appearing bored. The two new guards rounded the bend some time later. Valeron called one and the guard recognised him as Vincentè’s younger brother, thus stopping immediately. The other guard continued down the stairs.
‘Who are you keeping down there?’ asked Valeron. The guard hesitated.
‘I am sorry sir,’ he answered. ‘Even I do not know. They only brought her in two nights ago.’
Valeron froze. A woman in the dungeons?
‘Who brought her?’
‘Quadrant Leader Vincentè,’ answered the guard formally.
Valeron frowned and started to turn away. Then he turned to face the guard again. The guards weren’t told who she was. ‘Can I see her?’
The guard felt a cold sweat run down his back. “We have orders that no one – especially you, can see her…from Quadrant Leader Vincentè—.’
‘Especially me?’ Valeron was astounded. ‘You will take me to her now!’
The guard took a step back. ‘But sir…’ He felt the tip of Valeron’s blade at his throat. ‘Very well.’
They descended the steps and Valeron sheathed his blade. As soon as they reached the floor the first two guards left. Valeron followed the guard into the dungeon further while the first guard waited at the main table. Steel bars surrounded them but they continued into the darkness, candles lit every few feet. They finally reached a wooden door at the end. It was locked heavily.
‘Open it.’
The guard took out his set of keys.
Valeron watched the guard unlock the padlocks and remove the bar across the door.
‘It is said she has powers,’ said the guard softly.
‘Like a witch?’ asked Valeron, slightly bemused. The guard said nothing but fear shone in his eyes as he bowed and backed away.
Valeron entered the dank room.
It took his eyes some time to find the prisoner. There was a table in the middle of the room with a single candle burning. It looked as if it had been recently replaced. The light flickered around the room and Valeron concentrated to the corners of the room where the light did not quite reach. To the left in the back corner of the room he saw a pile of rags. The light flickered from the draught entering the room and he saw under the rags a hint of skin. Valeron walked towards the table and picked up the candle. Then, slowly, he made his way to the prisoner. He stopped a few feet away and light illuminated the prisoner. He saw long dark hair covering her face, then her head turned slowly towards him. Her light-blue eyes were full of sorrow, on the brink of tears. She was sitting with her arms around her knees that were tucked under her chin, covered by a shawl. Valeron’s breath caught in his throat. She was young, almost his age…too young to be locked up in a place such as this. He noticed that she wasn’t extremely beautiful, not like the princesses visiting the castle, but still…
Who would be, in conditions like these? Valeron saw how frail she was and hoped she had been fed at least.
So this is why the outlaws were trying to break into the dungeons. They were trying to get her back. But…who is she?
‘You don’t know me,’ she whispered.
Valeron registered surprise. ‘W-what?’
‘You asked who I was,’ she said softly staring up at him. ‘To tell you my name would be pointless.’
‘B-but I didn’t ask,’ said Valeron, clearly startled.
She looked at her knees again. ‘No…I am not a witch.’
‘Hey!’ said Valeron. ‘How is it that you can hear my thoughts?’
‘I do not know,’ she said after some time. ‘But it has resulted in the deaths of many of your comrades.’
Valeron said nothing for a while, and then remembered his earlier thought and blushed slightly. ‘How is it that you caused deaths of our soldiers?’
‘I could tell what the leaders of your raiding party were thinking. So our group was always one step ahead.’
Valeron smiled. ‘Then how is it that you got caught?’
‘I was alone,’ she whispered. ‘Knowing your team was there did not help in my escape. They were on horseback.’
Valeron kneeled down in front of her. She continued to stare at her knees.
‘You said something about raiding parties,’ said Valeron. ‘We do not raid. We only protect the land.’
She turned towards him. ‘You know nothing of your own leaders. They are evil.’
Valeron thought back to all the times Vincentè had to “take some time off” from guard duty. ‘Then why not kill you? Why bring you here?’
Suddenly she smiled. ‘When… Vincentè…captured me I saw his thoughts, and he saw mine.’
‘How did he see yours?’
‘I do not know all of my powers. It somehow must have transferred. But I do know what he saw.’
‘What did he see?’
‘He saw through my eyes his death. In my vision he fell before me with a bloody wound,’ she looked at Valeron. ‘He was afraid to attack me, in case it came true.’
‘But keeping you alive only delays it further does it not?’ asked Valeron.
‘It is a conundrum he must deal with.’
Sorrow hit Valeron. Vincentè would die…in front of this girl. A thought struck him. Vincentè was not here…
The girl looked away and her eyes turned sorrowful again. ‘Do it if you must. I will not be able to stop you.’
Valeron’s face went red. ‘I-I wasn’t going to. It was just a thought.’
‘Yet you know you must,’ she said as she turned to face him, ‘if you value your friend’s life.’
Valeron bowed his head, not noticing the use of ‘friend’ instead of ‘brother.’ Valeron knew she was right. His hand moved towards his sword as he put down the candle. ‘Tell me your name.’
‘Shini.’
Valeron’s hand rested on the hilt of his sword. ‘Wait. What did you say about our leaders? That they are evil?’
‘Your own General murdered the King while he was out “hunting.” That is why he now rules.’
The news hit him like a hammer. General Aimar…?
Shini continued. ‘Have you ever wondered why your food supply never withers? Or why you always have enough gold to buy armoury?’
Valeron said nothing.
‘He murders our people or uses them to increase his wealth.’
‘Enough!’ cried Valeron as he tried to draw his sword. ‘Let this be over.’ The blade started to slip out of the sheath and Valeron looked into Shini’s eyes, hesitating a moment…
I must! For brother! Valeron slowly drew the sword…
‘I thought I’d find you here.’
Valeron stopped, eyes widening. He turned to see Vincentè standing by the door. Valeron cursed, and sheathed his sword.
‘I was just…’ stammered Valeron.
Vincentè stood at the door, his eyes fixed on the girl. Then he turned, his jacket swinging behind him, revealing the sheath once more as he walked away.
‘Your brother?’ queried Shini. ‘He is not your brother.’
‘How do you know? Did you read Vincentè’s thoughts?’
‘You are not of Zenden either,’ she continued. ‘You are one of us. You were brought here seven years ago.’
‘What?’
‘Your memory was erased somehow. They murdered your father and our people when we tried to fight back their brutality,’ said Shini.
The news hit him hard. I can’t take much more of this. How many lies have I been told…!
Valeron stood. ‘I always questioned my past. They always had an answer…I knew everything did not quite fit.’
He stood silently for a moment.
‘Yes,’ answered Shini.
*
--
end of 1st half
first time i'm submitting a story here, so any constructive critisicm would be appreciated.. thanks
i hope to go into writing stories once i'm done with uni and have steady job =)
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Sheathed
The blades clashed again and the weaker swordsman withdrew. Threatening rain clouds hid the moonlight - the only light from the torches placed every ten metres on the battlements high above the castle walls. The flames shimmered as the weaker swordsman backed away, holding his sword out at his opponent.
‘What is the matter Valeron?’ taunted the stronger duellist. ‘Afraid to attack?’
Valeron momentarily stopped his retreat and glared at Vincentè. His opponent held his sword to the side; presenting openings Valeron knew to be decoys. Vincentè was too fast for Valeron, too strong. The man stood tall, confident in his abilities.
Valeron, merely twenty-two was more than enough for any average fighter, but to Vincentè he might as well have been a novice.
‘Well?’ asked Vincentè. As he took a step forward, light from the moon peeked through the clouds reflecting off his stationary blade.
Anger crossed Valeron’s face and he advanced with a frenzied attack. Vincentè parried and sent a riposte cutting Valeron’s cheek. The senior moved back from a vicious cut and Valeron ran forward again. Vincentè sighed as the blade came down. The boy was completely off balance…
Vincentè sidestepped, knocking aside Valeron’s blade, tripping him in the process. Valeron hit the stone floor hard and watched his sword clatter against the crenulated wall.
Vincentè sheathed his sword and helped Valeron to his feet. The junior did not look Vincentè in the eye. A quizzical look crossed Vincentè’s face.
‘Did you forget everything I taught you, brother?’ a sly smile appeared. ‘Or are you creating new fighting techniques?’
Valeron ignored Vincentè and walked to where his sword lay. He picked it up and glanced at the blade. The slender light from the moon reflected off the blade. Valeron turned around as the clouds moved over the moon, sighing as he sheathed his sword.
‘I am sorry, brother,’ Valeron finally said, his eyes hidden. ‘I’m still too slow.’
‘You are still learning.’ Vincentè smiled. ‘And you have a wicked temper. Try to keep it in check. I’ve told you before…’
‘…Anger must be harnessed, I know,’ said Valeron. ‘It’s just hard. When I get angry, it’s like a veil over my face. I don’t know.’ He shook his head. ‘Come on, let’s head back. Seems like it will rain.’
Vincentè gazed at Valeron, who was looking fearfully at the dark clouds. The trip down to the cabins would make it treacherous if it started to rain, the steps not yet fully repaired from the previous night’s attack on the castle.
Valeron headed off, tentatively descending the steps. He looked back. ‘Coming?’
Vincentè did not move. ‘Yeah.’
Drizzle started to fall and Vincentè slowly made his way to the steps. Looking down he saw that Valeron had reached the bottom and was running for cover. Raindrops fell down Vincentè’s face and he began the descent.
Did you forget everything I taught you, brother? Brother? No, not my real brother.
Vincentè reached the bottom and walked through the rain, heading for his room located at the far end. He passed the barracks and then the tavern, his clothes all but drenched. A serving girl in the tavern saw him and ushered him towards the door. He waved her away with a smile and continued towards his room in the downfall. Valeron and Vincentè were not blood brothers, merely a friendship lasting for more than seven years. Valeron had been found during the attack on Zenden castle. He was a child with the invaders. Vincentè had been defending Zenden.
As Vincentè entered his room he remembered the day. The enemy had smashed the second wall and had advanced mercilessly through the front line of the Zenden defence. Vincentè had been nineteen, and was hacking and slashing his way through the advancing men to try and stem the flow of attackers.
When the sun finally set, Vincentè knew he had proved himself to his seniors. No matter if I die now, he had thought. It was during the nighttime that a young boy from outside had run into the castle. The soldiers had been dumbfounded as to how the boy had entered. Vincentè and two others had chased the boy down. When they cornered him they saw he held a child.
‘My sister,’ he stammered through fearful eyes. ‘An arrow…she’s dying!’
The soldiers exchanged looks.
‘There’s no medicine. No bandages left,’ cried the boy. ‘Help her!’
Vincentè had sheathed his sword and stepped forward. ‘How did you get in?’
The boy’s eyes were wide. ‘My sister!’
Vincentè studied the youngster, and then told one of the soldiers to take the girl to one of the doctors. The soldier had queried as to how they were to accommodate one more, when more than a hundred soldiers were still waiting to be treated after days of lying in wait. Vincentè asked the boy’s name.
‘I am sorry Minash. We cannot help you either,’ Vincentè told the boy, surprised at the twinge of guilt he felt.
Minash’s face twisted in anger. He lay down his sister and when he looked up his eyes shone with menace. He suddenly produced a long knife from behind and leapt at Vincentè. He had managed to sway as the blade ripped by him and into the stomach of a soldier behind him. The second soldier quickly tried to draw his sword but the boys’ knife lashed across his face. Vincentè had backhanded Minash in the back of the head. The youth had fallen to the ground unconscious.
Vincentè had taken him to Master Joaquin. The old man had looked at the boy and the tattoo on his neck.
‘This is the son of Nishtaq. The demon possessed warrior,’ Joaquin had said.
‘You mean his father is possessed by a demon?’ asked Vincentè, slightly sceptical, yet still aware of Master Joaquin’s own additional abilities.
‘So some say,’ the old man said. ‘But I have seen him fight. His anger does not hinder him. It drives him. There is no light in those eyes. Had I not seen it I would not have believed the rumours.’
‘I saw him too.’
Joaquin had looked up fearfully. ‘We must kill this one. Who knows what evil runs through his blood?’
Vincentè had said nothing. Minash had woken then and he had looked around the room. ‘Who are you people?’
‘Minash…’ Vincentè had begun, trying to gather more information as to the boy’s entry.
‘Minash?’ the boy queried, a puzzling look upon his face. ‘Who is that?’
Master Joaquin had decided to let Vincentè not kill the boy. They had renamed him Valeron, and Vincentè had become best friends with him as the years went on.
‘Always remember,’ Master Joaquin had said. ‘We must never take our eyes off him… Valeron has great potential for evil. I can feel it…his spirit is full of it. Yet a small fire burns for good. You must bring it forth. We must not let the evil be unleashed, Vincentè. I sense it slipping out sometimes, like a faint light...’
*
Vincentè heard the clash of blades as he opened his door and stepped into the sunlight the following morning. In the centre of the courtyard, Vincentè spotted Valeron practicing his defences against four soldiers. Vincentè studied Valeron’s movements in the box of men for a while and then walked away to get some breakfast.
Valeron blocked a thrust and spun, elbowing a soldier in the face. He swung his sword above his head and turned as another came in, parrying another’s attack and striking the first with the flat of his blade.
‘Ok, that’s enough,’ said Valeron, bowing. The men returned the bow and Valeron thanked them for their session. All five men were dressed in soldier’s uniform in the Zenden colours of brown and green, their sheaths by their waists. So it was surprising for Valeron when he saw Vincentè walking some distance away. The elder swordsman wore a long black jacket, like a flowing robe.
‘Brother!’ called Valeron as he ran towards Vincentè. Vincentè slowed but did not turn. Valeron came alongside and the two walked on.
‘What’s with the jacket?’ asked Valeron.
Vincentè did not reply at first. His expression was fixed and he continued to stare forward. ‘You must not have heard,’ he said, his gaze still directed forward.
‘Heard about what?’
‘The recent attacks by the outlaw groups have become increasingly frequent,’ explained Vincentè. ‘The seniors now realise our organisation has been lacking, a point I have been emphasising for quite some time. They have now decided to appoint the most senior of each quadrant of the castle responsibility. I am now the leader of this quadrant. To signify this we are dressed differently to show our authority. I received these last night.’
Valeron thought it through. ‘You’re not the most senior in this quadrant though…’
‘Age does not matter,’ said Vincentè. ‘I may be younger but I have far greater skill than old Gezu. Besides, I have more fighting experience than he.’
‘That old sot,’ smiled Valeron. ‘Sitting behind the desk all day. I hope I don’t get promoted that high too quickly!’
Vincentè’s face finally cracked a smile. Valeron decided to take advantage and stepped into classified matters.
‘Tell me brother,’ said Valeron. ‘Why are these outlaws breaking into the castle?’
Vincentè stopped. Valeron swallowed hard and turned. He saw Vincentè’s jacket flow forward from the wind, and then back…to reveal the scabbard by his waist. The jacket covered it again. Valeron cursed himself. He thought Vincentè was unarmed. Asking such a question could easily result in a death sentence. Soldiers had to keep their place to keep all things flowing. The least each person knew the better.
‘They are not attacking the castle,’ said Vincentè.
‘Then?’
Vincentè moved past Valeron and into the dining hall.
‘Then what?’ pressed Valeron as they seated themselves.
‘The dungeons.’
Valeron sat confused for some time. ‘Why attack the dungeons?’
‘You ask too many questions, brother.’
Valeron fidgeted with his fork while Vincentè ordered some food. Valeron looked up to see Vincentè’s eyes on him.
‘What is it, brother?’ asked Valeron.
Vincentè’s face remained blunt as he spoke. ‘I am now your superior. Recent legislation requires me to display such titles.’
Valeron frowned. What the hell…?
‘You cannot sit with me…brother.’
Valeron’s face displayed bewilderment. It was then that he noticed the soldiers around him. For the first time he noticed their eyes on him. He looked back at Vincentè. The superior was still staring at him. Valeron wanted to protest but he saw everyone in the room glimpse with questioning looks. Valeron rose. Vincentè’s gaze was still focused.
‘Very well then…’ said Valeron as he bowed, ‘…my superior.’
Vincentè’s expression did not change. His face was set. As Valeron walked away though, he cursed inwardly.
It was midday when Valeron sneaked passed the guards in the lower levels of the castle. He descended two more sets of steps and then arrived at the staircase leading down to the dungeons. He knew there would be two guards down there. He could see the faint flicker of a candle in the darkness below. Valeron did not descend the steps, but moved to the window. He looked outside. The guard’s changeover would be in less than a minute. He waited a few feet away, leaning against a wall and appearing bored. The two new guards rounded the bend some time later. Valeron called one and the guard recognised him as Vincentè’s younger brother, thus stopping immediately. The other guard continued down the stairs.
‘Who are you keeping down there?’ asked Valeron. The guard hesitated.
‘I am sorry sir,’ he answered. ‘Even I do not know. They only brought her in two nights ago.’
Valeron froze. A woman in the dungeons?
‘Who brought her?’
‘Quadrant Leader Vincentè,’ answered the guard formally.
Valeron frowned and started to turn away. Then he turned to face the guard again. The guards weren’t told who she was. ‘Can I see her?’
The guard felt a cold sweat run down his back. “We have orders that no one – especially you, can see her…from Quadrant Leader Vincentè—.’
‘Especially me?’ Valeron was astounded. ‘You will take me to her now!’
The guard took a step back. ‘But sir…’ He felt the tip of Valeron’s blade at his throat. ‘Very well.’
They descended the steps and Valeron sheathed his blade. As soon as they reached the floor the first two guards left. Valeron followed the guard into the dungeon further while the first guard waited at the main table. Steel bars surrounded them but they continued into the darkness, candles lit every few feet. They finally reached a wooden door at the end. It was locked heavily.
‘Open it.’
The guard took out his set of keys.
Valeron watched the guard unlock the padlocks and remove the bar across the door.
‘It is said she has powers,’ said the guard softly.
‘Like a witch?’ asked Valeron, slightly bemused. The guard said nothing but fear shone in his eyes as he bowed and backed away.
Valeron entered the dank room.
It took his eyes some time to find the prisoner. There was a table in the middle of the room with a single candle burning. It looked as if it had been recently replaced. The light flickered around the room and Valeron concentrated to the corners of the room where the light did not quite reach. To the left in the back corner of the room he saw a pile of rags. The light flickered from the draught entering the room and he saw under the rags a hint of skin. Valeron walked towards the table and picked up the candle. Then, slowly, he made his way to the prisoner. He stopped a few feet away and light illuminated the prisoner. He saw long dark hair covering her face, then her head turned slowly towards him. Her light-blue eyes were full of sorrow, on the brink of tears. She was sitting with her arms around her knees that were tucked under her chin, covered by a shawl. Valeron’s breath caught in his throat. She was young, almost his age…too young to be locked up in a place such as this. He noticed that she wasn’t extremely beautiful, not like the princesses visiting the castle, but still…
Who would be, in conditions like these? Valeron saw how frail she was and hoped she had been fed at least.
So this is why the outlaws were trying to break into the dungeons. They were trying to get her back. But…who is she?
‘You don’t know me,’ she whispered.
Valeron registered surprise. ‘W-what?’
‘You asked who I was,’ she said softly staring up at him. ‘To tell you my name would be pointless.’
‘B-but I didn’t ask,’ said Valeron, clearly startled.
She looked at her knees again. ‘No…I am not a witch.’
‘Hey!’ said Valeron. ‘How is it that you can hear my thoughts?’
‘I do not know,’ she said after some time. ‘But it has resulted in the deaths of many of your comrades.’
Valeron said nothing for a while, and then remembered his earlier thought and blushed slightly. ‘How is it that you caused deaths of our soldiers?’
‘I could tell what the leaders of your raiding party were thinking. So our group was always one step ahead.’
Valeron smiled. ‘Then how is it that you got caught?’
‘I was alone,’ she whispered. ‘Knowing your team was there did not help in my escape. They were on horseback.’
Valeron kneeled down in front of her. She continued to stare at her knees.
‘You said something about raiding parties,’ said Valeron. ‘We do not raid. We only protect the land.’
She turned towards him. ‘You know nothing of your own leaders. They are evil.’
Valeron thought back to all the times Vincentè had to “take some time off” from guard duty. ‘Then why not kill you? Why bring you here?’
Suddenly she smiled. ‘When… Vincentè…captured me I saw his thoughts, and he saw mine.’
‘How did he see yours?’
‘I do not know all of my powers. It somehow must have transferred. But I do know what he saw.’
‘What did he see?’
‘He saw through my eyes his death. In my vision he fell before me with a bloody wound,’ she looked at Valeron. ‘He was afraid to attack me, in case it came true.’
‘But keeping you alive only delays it further does it not?’ asked Valeron.
‘It is a conundrum he must deal with.’
Sorrow hit Valeron. Vincentè would die…in front of this girl. A thought struck him. Vincentè was not here…
The girl looked away and her eyes turned sorrowful again. ‘Do it if you must. I will not be able to stop you.’
Valeron’s face went red. ‘I-I wasn’t going to. It was just a thought.’
‘Yet you know you must,’ she said as she turned to face him, ‘if you value your friend’s life.’
Valeron bowed his head, not noticing the use of ‘friend’ instead of ‘brother.’ Valeron knew she was right. His hand moved towards his sword as he put down the candle. ‘Tell me your name.’
‘Shini.’
Valeron’s hand rested on the hilt of his sword. ‘Wait. What did you say about our leaders? That they are evil?’
‘Your own General murdered the King while he was out “hunting.” That is why he now rules.’
The news hit him like a hammer. General Aimar…?
Shini continued. ‘Have you ever wondered why your food supply never withers? Or why you always have enough gold to buy armoury?’
Valeron said nothing.
‘He murders our people or uses them to increase his wealth.’
‘Enough!’ cried Valeron as he tried to draw his sword. ‘Let this be over.’ The blade started to slip out of the sheath and Valeron looked into Shini’s eyes, hesitating a moment…
I must! For brother! Valeron slowly drew the sword…
‘I thought I’d find you here.’
Valeron stopped, eyes widening. He turned to see Vincentè standing by the door. Valeron cursed, and sheathed his sword.
‘I was just…’ stammered Valeron.
Vincentè stood at the door, his eyes fixed on the girl. Then he turned, his jacket swinging behind him, revealing the sheath once more as he walked away.
‘Your brother?’ queried Shini. ‘He is not your brother.’
‘How do you know? Did you read Vincentè’s thoughts?’
‘You are not of Zenden either,’ she continued. ‘You are one of us. You were brought here seven years ago.’
‘What?’
‘Your memory was erased somehow. They murdered your father and our people when we tried to fight back their brutality,’ said Shini.
The news hit him hard. I can’t take much more of this. How many lies have I been told…!
Valeron stood. ‘I always questioned my past. They always had an answer…I knew everything did not quite fit.’
He stood silently for a moment.
‘Yes,’ answered Shini.
*
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end of 1st half