Blade of Champions

Chapter Twenty Two: Haven

        CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

        HAVEN

The return to Cytra was one of great rejoicing and many reunions for the freed slaves. Many of their family or friends had lost all hope of seeing them alive again. It was an effort to convince them they were not dreaming when they opened their doors to find their loved ones standing on the doorstep. 

For Hughell, the time was filled with the old remembrances - but also new beginnings. Each hour in the city he was reminded of his past failings, but rather than filling him with condemnation, the memories daily brought a sense of gratitude and a determination commit his all to the Prince's work. He had been pardoned. The past could not hold him back now, only spur him on.

The moment his burns were healed sufficiently, Hughell dedicated himself wholeheartedly to the work of the haven, training up a new company of knights in the ways of the Sword, and serving wherever he was placed.

Once in Cytra, the rescued slaves had the freedom to choose their own path. Some chose to leave, clinging deeply to their hurt and turning their backs on the Prince and His call. But others threw themselves into the training with a will, their hearts more fully devoted to the Prince than ever before.

So it was that two years passed, in which hard work and unswerving resolve transformed Hughell into a man, a warrior of great strength and zeal for the Prince and His people.

Then came a night in the dead of winter, when a harsh gale blew in off the ocean, and two silent shapes came leaping and darting across the rooftops of the city.

At the northern wall they stopped in the shadow of a gable, and the larger one nodded to his companion. 'This is the place.'

The shadowy figures grabbed hold of the roof edge and swung down, landing on a tiny balcony in the wall.

Was that a knock on the door?

Hughell rolled over and felt for a flint beside the bed. He lit the lantern, blinking sleepily in the sudden light. Who could that be at this hour of the night?

He got up stiffly and went to open the door, peering out into the darkness. 'Hello? Anyone there?'

There was no answer. 

Strange. He shut the door with a shiver and sat down on the edge of his bed. The noise had woken him from a dead sleep. He could not have imagined it.

There it was again. He sat bolt upright, a frown creasing his brow. The knock had come from the other door, the one that led to the outside balcony.

Hughell did not need to reach for his sword, it was already strapped his waist. Hand at the ready, he got up and tiptoed across the room. 

He was barely at the door when a low, rumbling voice spoke from the other side. 'Are you Hughell of Cytra?'

Hughell froze in surprise. The voice triggered something in his memory, a peculiar accent he had not heard for years. 

'I am,' he said at last, his heart beating faster. 'Who are you? For what business do you seek me thus, in the middle of the night?'

'Open the door,' the deep voice said. 'There is no time,'

Then Hughell remembered. He drew the bolt and swung open the door. Before him stood two Silent Warriors, their powerful forms black against the starry sky. He beckoned for them to come in, but the larger warrior only shook his head.

'We bring urgent news from the north. The Haven in Salisburg reports the disappearance of several of their young members. The enemy stronghold of Bel Lione has fallen, but they fear its followers may still be at work.' The Silent Warrior bent closer, his eyes burning with urgency. 'There is great strength and hope among the knights here in Cytra, but elsewhere the need is growing fast. The time has come for those who are willing, to stand for the cause.'

For one moment, Hughell looked up at Shemie, wondering if the Silent Warrior knew who he was, remembered what he had done. Then his hand tightened around the blade and he felt a shiver of determination run through him. 

The past did not matter.

'I will gather the Knights of the Prince,' he said. 'We will come.'