Hybern - Present Day
TW: SA
They had been camped on this muddy hill for four days. Behind them loomed the ruins of some rake's castle, jagged and empty like a poor gutted beast. The men had used some of the rooms that still had ceilings to store supplies and weapons, but they had all taken up residence in their grey canvas tents outside it's courtyard walls. The unit of Hybern foot soldiers were on the move to their eastern border to set up blockades and gather intel for their king, for he had been preparing an attack on Prythian's western shore for some time and had grown paranoid that they might learn of his plan. They had, and he was too late to stop them, but he didn't know that. None of them did.
Talia sat just behind the entrance of her tent, the closest she could get to the warmth of the fire without having to face the males outside. She had been sent on many "missions" with Hybern's soldiers, in case they should face some danger or mysterious illness that required a healer's intervention, though most "illness" faced by the males of Hybern involved the need of a young female's ...attention. Especially if said young female knew it might cost her her life if she refused. She shuddered, hoping to shake off the scent of those that entered her tent today, but she was unsuccessful. It wasn't just on her body, it crawled beneath her skin, touching her chilled bones.
The males outside were drinking and listening to their leaders ramble about how Prythian soldiers had been seen at the border, those speaking were feeding off of the anxiety in their subordinates, brought on by the legend of the shadowsinger, a great soldier of the night court, the High Lord's spymaster. And torturer. According to the male speaking, he had been seen in the sky over camps closer to the border, and some even said males had disappeared while leaving the camp for water or to relieve themselves. He stopped and took a deep drink from his stein before continuing. "That camp in south bend? It wasn't a fire that took them out. No, it might have been a fire that cleaned them up, but it didn't take them out. I heard it was him. Glowing blue, and destroying everything in his path." Mumbles and grunts rose from the circle as Talia shook her head and turned away from the entrance of her tent to prepare for bed. She knew of the one they called shadowsinger. During her time with the priestesses, they spoke of his powers with reverence. They called his powers ancient. They said that him and his brothers were the strongest Illyrians to have ever existed, wearing siphons for their powers in order to even control them. They spoke of his ability to track down and capture information better than any hunter with their prey. They spoke of him in a way that made him seem untouchable, larger than life. And they knew, Talia included, that he was the king's greatest prize. That the king's extreme paranoia was furthered by the idea of the Illyrian, the only one who could find him out. If the shadowsinger were really out there, out here, then he carried a great price on his head. Talia began to turn down her bedroll when she heard rustling at the flap of her tent. She straightened without turning around. "Healer." slurred a deep voice. Talia continued folding her cloak and didn't turn around. "I said I need a healer." the voice clanged again.
"Oh really." she answered uninterestedly. Again? The third today. She shifted on her feet.
"Humor me." he said, moving to stand behind her and placing a dirty hand on her shoulder. She stilled. She knew the routine, and the risk of breaking it. The king and his court would never kill her, they needed her too much, but their torture was slow and effective. It didn't matter though, because these males were drunk and bored. They might kill her for sending them off unfinished and never even stop to think about the consequences they might face. So she turned to him.
"What can I do for you tonight, Braxton?" Talia asked, masking the tiredness in her voice, and addressing one of her most common visitors by name.
"I think you know." he said gruffly, already fumbling with his belt. She didn't have the will to argue, to try and talk him out of it. She wondered if it bothered his comrades that they shared a female with him. With each other. She slipped off her shoes and sat on the edge of her bed roll, waiting for him to get on with it. As he sidled toward her, too drunk to even feign seduction, Talia picked up on a sound. Scuffling of feet, boots squelching in the mud, too fast to be stumbling back to their own beds for the night. Before she could make out anything definitive, Braxton was upon her, pressing one knee between her legs as he pushed her down onto her bedroll by her shoulders.
"Wait." she said, placing a hand on his chest. He looked at her, confused, and pushed against her hand, closing his eyes as he bent his mouth toward hers. She turned her head to avoid him.
"Wait, Braxton. Do you hear that?" He stopped pushing and turned his head in the same direction as hers.
"Shit." he said crawling back to his feet and rushing to put his boots back on his muddy feet. An alarm was sounding from the center of camp. Something was happening.
Azriel knew how to invade. It was his job, his identity. He knew how to move silently, to stay undetected. He knew how to use his skills and his shadows to get what he needed and slink out like the night itself. But this was different. Azriel had learned of the king's movements months ago, and now his high lord wanted him to dig deeper, to infiltrate these smaller legions and come out with more real-time information. He was traveling with a band of Illyrian soldiers, they would fly in, take over the camp, round up the men, kill the rebellious ones, pick a few to.....ask some questions. Then, burn the evidence.
Prythian leaders hoped the loss of these small camps would scare Hybern back in to hiding while they worked out how to fight the coming war that they felt threatening a fragile peace that they had worked so hard for. The Illyrians had just come from another camp and he knew they had a limited time to get the job done here before they were caught. Their movements hadn't been detected yet, but he knew Hybern was watching. He landed near the edge of camp and grabbed a dark headed male by the collar as he trudged by. Drunk, no doubt. "Tell your commander to sound the alarm." Azriel whispered in his ear. The male violently shrugged free of his grip and turned to him, his face shifting from anger to shock as he took in the winged figure, and without another word he ran to the center of camp.
The other Illyrian soldiers landed silently behind their own commander, eight of them in total. He began to walk through the camp, slowly, confidently, as they waited for the ruckus around them to begin. This group was larger than the others they had seen. Maybe 30 males, based on the number of tents they counted on the flight in. Some would run, they would deal with them later. Many would die. And a few would share vital secrets. His siphons flared with power, as if they knew what was coming. As they neared the center of camp, Hybern soldiers ran out to meet them. The bigger, more experienced, winged warriors easily took down the few that ran at them and kept moving. Those that had awoken in their tents and taken the time to gather themselves came at them from behind, and they were met with the same quiet, winged death.
The commander and his men stood defiantly near their tent as Azriel strode toward them, his men on watch behind him. He had counted 19 men down. 3 stood before him. They would be questioned. That left 5 or more missing, either passed out or cowering. They would pull them out and lock them up to be dealt with later. "Surrender or die." he said coldly to the three before them. Emotionless. He knew they knew who he was, what they faced next. The middle man, most likely the highest ranking commander stepped forward.
"No." he said, and without hesitation, Azriel stepped forward and disarmed him. In a swift motion, he grabbed the smaller male by the neck and slammed him to the ground, knocking him unconscious.
"Yes." he said at him before looking up at the faces of the other two men. They had not moved, and he stood up to walk toward them. They accepted their fate at the sight of it and dropped their weapons. The shadowsinger nodded to two of his soldiers and they took them down in to the dungeon below the castle ruins behind him. He looked to the rest of his companions and signaled for them to search the tents for the remaining Hybern soldiers.
Talia had known immediately what was happening. The Hybern camp was being attacked and she could bet money on the culprit. After Braxton ran out, she had huddled in the corner as she listened to the one sided scramble outside, wondering if any of them would be left alive. As the noise died down, she began to slowly pace her tent. They would find her. Her status as a female could help her get an audience with the shadowsinger. If he could hear her out even for a moment, maybe she could could convince him to let her go. She could finally leave the hell that had housed her for nearly 3 years.
As these thoughts raced through her mind, the flap of her tent ripped open and a winged male stepped in. She stared at him, unmoving and he stared back, more than surprised to see a female in the camp. She knew it wasn't the shadowsinger before her, so she straightened to her full 5'1" height and prepared to ask him to take her to his leader. But he spoke first. "What the hell is a female doing here?" he asked roughly as he moved toward her. His voice was merciless, and she struggled to fight the fear rising in her. "Turn around." he motioned at her. She dare not disobey. He shackled her and led her out as he would any man. Talia grimaced as she struggled to keep up, the ugly twisted scar around the bottom half of her right leg protested as she slid through the mud and the rain that had begun to fall. Without speaking, her new captor led her up and in to the castle ruins, down one level, and into a cell.
"I want to speak to the shadowsinger." she said to him as he unshackled her, locked her in, and turned away as if he hadn't heard her.
She huffed a sigh and sank down to the ground, the stone wall behind her driving the night's coldness in to her back through her clothes. She could hear other men in the cells around her and she couldn't stop herself from feeling relief at the fact that they couldn't get to her here. If she was still alive, it was a good sign. Maybe they would take her back to their homeland with them. Prythian, a land she had only heard of in her mother's stories and the lilting chatter between priestesses in her most recent prison. Or maybe they would see no use for her and set her free. She absentmindedly ran a hand down the front of her scarred leg. A reminder of what happens when one runs without a plan. A reminder that she would never run again. Only her mind and tongue could pull her out now.
As she sat, lost in thought, the Illyrians came down the steps again. Each one of them lined up in the hall to guard their prisoners. As they did, the shadowsinger strode down the hall toward the steps at the other end, leading to the depths of the ruins. Another level of damp dungeon. She knew where he was headed and why; she shuddered again despite herself. As he passed by her cell, she could have sworn he hesitated, a catch in his perfect gait, a mistake someone like him doesn't make. She held her breath, watching the blue glow of his siphons as his pace corrected and he disappeared down the second flight of steps.
It had been hours, Talia was sure of it. She wondered if the sun had risen. Still, she sat against the cold rock wall, struggling to keep her teeth from chattering loudly in the darkness. After counting another 100 breaths, one of the Illyrian soldiers that had been standing guard outside hurried down the steps to her right and then down the next level to the dungeon below. After a few moments, he passed back by. And then, his footfalls sounded on the steps to her left, making their way back up her level. She could see the blue light emanating off of him as he came up the hall toward her. He stopped to speak to the soldier standing outside of her cell. "Take care of them." he said to his comrade, stopping. She stood. She had mastered the art of defiance through posture and she wouldn't waver now. She moved toward the door where he turned to face her. Her shoulders were back, her chin high, but her mind was completely blank. His power was rolling off of him in waves, and mixed with something else... curiosity? Maybe he would face her as a person and not as the animal the Illyrian escort had before. "What's your name?" he asked, his voice even. Completely unreadable.
"Talia." she answered without hesitation. "I'm a healer. I've been held here against my will." she had practiced a much longer speech but it caught in her throat. She could see the glint of his golden eyes in the light of his siphons, their blue light turning them a strange green.
"Where are you from?" he asked. With that, she hesitated. It was a long answer.
"Not Hybern, if that's what you're asking." Azriel turned to look back down the hall before stepping forward and placing a key in the lock of her cell.
"Come with me." he said, opening the door. She hesitated, willing her limp not to undermine her stature as she finally stepped toward him. He didn't shackle or hand her. He stepped back for her to pass and motioned for her to make her way up the steps to the ruined courtyard above. As she exited, the shadowsinger behind her, the man standing guard at the entrance eyed her before speaking.
"Sir..." he said anxiously. Talia could sense his urgency. Something felt off.
"It's okay." he said under his breath to the male, who tucked his wings in tight and regained his post. Talia felt off kilter, she hadn't been free like this in years and yet she knew if she made a move to leave, they would be on her in a heartbeat. The shadowsinger looked back to her and then began to walk toward the room in which the Hybern weapons were stashed. Talia followed. He held up his hand to stop her as he entered the room.
For the second she was alone, panic burned the back of her tongue. She knew where he had been for those hours. And maybe she was next. But he emerged with a cloak over his arm and he handed it to her. She had forgotten the cold and suddenly realized that she was quivering as she stood waiting for him. She threw it around her shoulders. It dragged the ground where it hung from her small frame. Without a word, he led her further in to the ruins, in to another room where the ceiling had crumbled in. The rain clouds had given way to a bright moon. He motioned to a large stone that had laid itself near the middle of the room.
"Sit." so she did. Disobeying him seemed impossible. She looked up at him and noted his size. The males here were right to be afraid of him. His face was made of stone. It was beautiful, but unchanging. Silence stretched between them until it snapped and she couldn't take it.
"Are you going to torture me?" she blurted. If not for her pride, she would have clamped her own hand over her mouth.
"No." he said, forcefully enough that she cringed. "But I do want to know," he said, gentler this time. "Where you're from. Why you're in this camp."
"I..." Talia hesitated, wondering which parts to bring up. Knowing he would know if she lied. "I am a bastard child that got my mother thrown out of Prythian. Over the wall. A human family took us in. They raised me as their own and hid our identity until-"
"As a human? How?" he cut her off.
She took a deep breath to steady herself before continuing. "My mother glamoured my looks, and the humans that took us in formed prosthetic ears for me and braided my hair to hide them even better." she paused, waiting for him to interrupt again. But he just stood, arms folded, listening. "I discovered my healing powers around 10 and I helped my grandmother with her midwife practice. I kept as hidden as a I could and the people in my village mostly looked the other way. When I was 16, my mother was discovered and killed. I ran. I hid from place to place in the human lands......working." She gulped, hoping he didn't press. "About 3 years ago, a priestess found me. She said my gifts were....special." she began to shift where she sat, uncomfortable with this amount of vulnerability. "She took me to Hybern where I was taught the different ways I could use it and learn to heal in a way they found useful. But" she met his eyes in the moonlight, begging him to see the truth in her words. "I learned of the darkness they were working with. I would sneak out to watch them and eventually I got spooked. I ran. They made it so I couldn't run again." she stilled, her defiance filling her again. "A few months ago, two different groups of Hybern soldiers came down with an illness during one of these outings." she motioned to the camp around them. "I was able to tell it was from the water but I didn't get there soon enough to save all of them. So they started sending me out with them." The shadowsinger dropped his arms and walked closer to her.
She stayed seated but looked up as she held his gaze. He knelt so their faces were even. She shifted again, realizing he had probably noticed that something was off with her leg and so wasn't going to ask her to stand.
"I can offer you refuge in my court. You'll be safe there." she sensed nothing but sincerity in his offer. Her breaths felt shorter somehow, her chest tightening with nerves. Or excitement. Was this her way out? Before she could suck in another breath to answer, light exploded around them. The shadowsinger was blown backward away from her, and she fell from her stone seat, her head bouncing off the ground, and the last thing she saw before her vision went dark were flames and Hybern armor moving above her.
The nerves of the Illyrians outside, the other Hybern legions in the area, they had been caught. The healer and the great shadowsinger both. The king would be thrilled.
(Word Count: 3350)