The brothers led Waverly up a cliff. There were pieces of finely cut rock jutting out from the side that made it quite easy to climb. Diarmaid revealed that he and his brother had carved out the rocks a very long time ago with help from an old acquaintance.
"Took two seasons because Dermot always, always got dirt in his eyes. I can't go any further because I can't see. Wimp!" Diarmaid complained, mimicking his brother's voice in an overly exaggerated manner.
At the top, the cliff was flat and carpeted with grass. On the far end of it, an apple tree stood on a thicker grass carpet with smaller trees growing around it. A long wooden bench rested under the tree, and the strong breeze made its leaves dance. Waverly mentioned that it all looked very impressive for something that was handmade.
"Thank you." Diarmaid grinned. "I did half of all the heavy work including, occassionly moving Dermot's behind here."
His brother gave him a pointed look.
"You talk too much." He muttered, shoving a spear into Diarmaid's hand.
Despite being the eldest, Dermot was an inch shorter, and he came off as more responsible than his younger. Cassiope floated toward the apple tree and stood next to it, making the landscape look even more beautiful. The air up on the cliff was clean, and the sea below them was a clear blue.
Waverly spotted Elves rowing small canoes in the water.
"Who are they?" She asked, shielding her eyes from the sunlight.
"Local fishermen going about their daily business." Dermot replied. "Come on. Let's do a little sword practice first."
He showed her where to stand then walked over to a spot where they had stacked weapons in a brown cloth.
"We knew right from when we heard you'd join the Tyros that they'd shove you into the nasty end, make you eat dirt." He continued.
A bit of embarrassment passed through her face.
"It's okay. We get it." Diarmaid comforted next to Cassiope. "We were once Tyros too. We've been there."
"Why do they do it?" Waverly asked quietly.
"To make you feel like you're the lesser one amongst them." Dermot added and handed her a thin sword carved from yew.
"They try to intimidate you in the hopes that you'll lick their boots and they would look superior in the end. Diarmaid and I got over it in less than two months. See, we made them respect us. It will be harder for you seeing as you're Human."
Her eyebrows went up. "What do you mean by that?"
"You're one hundred percent new – to everything. You haven't known yet what it's like to be a Tyro; to handle them, live with them. You're foreign, and it's easier to pick on a foreigner – someone who doesn't know what is what."
Dermot clanked his wooden sword against hers. Waverly realized that some of his hair was braided back, making him look tough, and at that moment, a lot handsomer than he usually was.
"Give me your best offense." He ordered.
She barely blinked before Dermot was standing behind her, his sword around her neck and hers pressed to her chest.
"You should never lose concentration like that." He whispered into her ear, his breath bathing her neck. He smelled of lovely fragrance, like cherry laurel.
He went to stand in front of her again. "Try again. Don't think about anything, but your opponent's blade because it's the only thing that matters."
Waverly went a second time, but lasted only a few minutes. Her sword flew out of her hands and sailed right through Cassiope who shrieked out of fright.
"I am so sorry." She gasped, rushing forward to examine her friend.
Cassiope felt around her stomach which was miraculously unhurt. "Blades do not hurt me even if they are sharp, but they do give me quite a start."
"Wow." Diarmaid exclaimed, eyes wide. "I never knew that about flower spirits. Now I wish I was one."
"Always keep a very firm grip on your sword," Dermot advised calmly. "And if you're going to lose it," He pointed at Diarmaid. "Aim for his head."
Diarmaid cackled. "You bread basket!"
Dermot smirked and returned to his fighting position. Waverly retrieved her sword and did likewise. After a few rounds of failed improvement, Diarmaid tried his luck with her, but she still seemed to lack concentration.
"Your mind is preoccupied." Dermot concluded. They sat together on the grassy carpet under the apple tree for a rest where the wind was cool and sweet, perfumed by the dwarf trees planted around them. On the other side, Diarmaid spoke to Cassiope about the mechanisms of her blade proof skin.
Waverly looked away. She did not wish to talk about what perturbed her, but Dermot did not bother to press it.
"You are a surprisingly skilled swordswoman." He went on. "I will truthfully tell you that there are only a few who can switch their sword hand. If you try to empty your mind, you could much better."
She turned to him. "How often can I come and have sessions with you?"
He smirked. "Well, the letter says your permission is limitless so. . . whenever you want to."
She nodded. "Thank you."
The urge to ask after Brijjet came to her, but she suddenly decided not to. In her mind, she felt quite distant from him. Moreover, Diarmaid had just called out that it was time for a swim.
"Is it not too far up to jump into—"
A loud splash drowned Waverly's next words. Diarmaid had plunged all the way down into the river. The canoes were long gone, otherwise their rowers would have gotten quite a jump. After a few moments, Diarmaid surfaced and began to swim in backstrokes.
"You should definitely come down." He yelled.
Waverly turned to Cassiope, who suddenly appeared to be absolutely mortified by the idea. "Only my plant gets wet. Not me."
With that, she disappeared in pink sprays of dust. Turning to Dermot, Waverly found that he was stepping backwards in preparation to jump off the edge.
"You too are going to leave me up here by myself?" She asked in disbelief.
Dermot tilted his head. "Only if you want to be left up here."
He lunged forward with light feet, flipped once midair, and plunged stiffly into the water barely making a splash. Diarmaid hooted and urged her to jump as well. She shut her eyes for a moment to slow down her breathing then jumped. The wind whistled violently in her hair before the warm water swallowed her whole. It was still Floom season, and so when she surfaced, the air seemed colder.
"Where are we going?" Waverly asked as she followed the brothers. They turned out to be incredibly fast swimmers.
"You'll see." Dermot replied.
They swam to the other side on a flat turf strewn with colorful underbrush, and without waiting to dry, darted into the forest. It was a tedious run, and Waverly tried her best to keep up. The Floom was visible everywhere because of how moist the forest was. It sharpened the green of leaves, tinted underbrush, made trunks appear browner, and even cast a hazy color on their clothes.
Dermot and Diarmaid seemed to weave in and out of each other as they ran, their faded robes ignited by the Floom, thus indicating their positions in the colorful vegetation. They ran in zigzag fashion; jumping over old fallen trees and boulders, skirting around poison ivy, and sliding under low hanging branches. It was mesmerizing to watch them run. Waverly lost her footing once or twice, and scratched herself against a protruding thorn covered branch, but she did not stop to admit to the pain. She became suddenly aware of how empty her mind was as she ran. The wind seemed to blot out thoughts from her head with every sprint.
When at last they halted, it was in front of a wellspring. The water cascaded in different colors, and the stream which it flowed down into snaked through a dark canal hidden by a thick mass of green trees.
"Where does it go?" Waverly asked, panting heavily. Her throat was as dry as a desert, her clothes were half rid of water, but her hair was still plastered against her face.
"The sea." Dermot replied matter-of-factedly.
"The colors do not affect the sea, does it? It is still blue." She noted.
"Indeed." He agreed. "Imagine trying to dye the entire ocean."
"So, where do we go now?"
"Well, we already told you we'd have fun then, no?" Diarmaid asked, walking towards a low cave that Waverly had not noticed earlier. It blended in perfectly with the environment, and could have ben missed a hundred times over. She only saw it because Diarmaid pointed to it.
"Yes." She answered, following him.
"Then, come on." He urged and vanished inside the cave.
Waverly did not need to duck inside the cave since she was many inches shorter than the brothers. It was dark and cool inside, but the Floom ignited the wet walls, casting a warm glow that allowed her navigate the sandy path under her feet. No matter how many times she had seen The Floom, it still managed to trap her breath in her chest.
It was irresistibly beautiful.
Tiny glows came off the stone roof, like twinkling stars in the night sky. Waverly noticed them, but did not ask what they were, only adding it to the mental list of strangely beautiful things in Alpgeton that she was yet to know the names of. The cave twisted on, filling up with the heavy breathing of Diarmaid in front and Dermot behind.
At last, they came out into the open. Waverly gaped, looking above at the high canopy of dense wet trees and clouding fog. They were in a forest. Precisely, a rainforest.
"The Woodlands." She mumbled.
"Yes, a small part of it. The surprise is right up there." Dermot replied, pointing to a winded path stained orange by the Floom. It led up into the fog so that it was impossible to tell what surprise waited above.
"This is a very restricted area of our home, but we don't care about that." Diarmaid explained.
This time, he let Dermot lead the way.
"You certainly would want to ask why this area is declared out of bounds." Dermot said, panting a little as the path wound up and away from the ground. "I'll save you the trouble. Diarmaid and I weren't the first Elves who wanted to accomplish daring feats and live a lawless life. Our ancestors – called The Elder Elves – were the first ones to walk the earth. After them came generations and generations of levelheaded and obedient, and graceful Elvish kind. They watched their offspring prosper and thrive. Everything was peaceful."
"Until the Wanderers were born." Diarmaid added, but allowed his brother to continue the story. Waverly admired how their words could flow into each other's without neither making any form of eye contact. Dermot's eyes were fixed on hers as he led them on whilst walking backwards. She found that she did not worry whether he would misstep or crash into something.
"The Wanderers turned out to be the direct opposite of precedent offsprings. The first ones to really dare explore all three parts of Alpgeton, the mountains, the jungle. They were six pairs of twin brothers and sisters."
"They unraveled so many mysteries about this realm. Most of what we call history today was founded by them." Diarmaid enthusiastically added.
"They did countless things under their parents noses, and of course, when the Elder Elves heard it, you can imagine what it felt like."
Waverly chuckled. "They were shocked? outraged? Elves are supposed to be—"
"Graceful, charming, sleeping under mother's bosom all the time." Diarmaid interjected.
The trio burst into riotous laughter.
"It was uncalled for. They tried to contain the Wanderers, but nothing they said or did could stop them. The lot went on exploring."
"Then it all came to an end when the King got involved." Diarmaid deadpanned.
"The King then, Lord Micthen, forbade the Wanderers from such acts of treason and brought them forth to face trial. He declared their ways criminal and their findings alien. None born of Elven blood was ever to dare retrace the prints on the soil the Wanderers had left behind. The matter came to a close. The Wanderers stopped wandering. They died thousands of years later, and many more of it followed. Nobody made any attempts to idolise them for generations, but here's the good part."
"They weren't the very last ones that were totally off the chain." Diarmaid inputted with a smirk.
"Diarmaid and I have been trying to unravel some of the things they found." Dermot said curving to the right.
Now they were high enough to touch the upper trunk of some trees. They were higher than the fog. From that height, the forest looked serene.
"It hasn't been easy. In fact, it was incredibly difficult. The Elder Elves made sure of that; casting magic and whatnot because they feared that someday, someone would try to follow in the footsteps of their lunatic great-times-fifty-something grandchildren. Haha! They weren't wrong." Diarmaid said.
"So far, we've discovered five of those places where the Wanderers dug up. One of them is right here." Dermot said, pointing into open space.
Waverly cautiously stepped forward, her boots squishing wet moss under her feet. There was nothing before her other than the view of the forest and the hundred foot drop which was the clifftop through which they had come.
"I see nothing." She exclaimed, shaking her head, half disappointed.
"But that's the point. If anyone stumbled across this place and found something, well it would defeat the whole purpose." Dermot stated.
"She is called The Repelling Earth." Diarmaid said. "The repellant there is the concealment magic, the real treasure is what lies underneath her."
Waverly frowned in confusion.
"Take my hand." Dermot said, offering an open hand.
She took it and found it deeply callused. Diarmaid also offered his which was the same as his brother's. She realized that their hands were like that because they did all their work with them. HalfHyde's hands were also callused and rough from carving wood and shaping stone.
"On three?" Dermot requested.
Waverly panicked. "Are we going to jump again? It is rough down there."
"Relax, alright?! If it would kill you, we wouldn't let you do it unless someone's found a way to resurrect the dead." Diarmaid intelligently put out.
Both Dermot and Waverly shot him looks of instant shock.
"I was only joking. You are so uptight." He cackled.
"One, two. . . three." Dermot counted and they all took the leap.
Waverly fell like stone. A pool of dread buildt in her chest as she waited to connect with the ground, wondering how she had quickly trusted such wild people, but a voice inside her head assured her that she was even wilder.
Halfway to the ground, she felt the softest bump. It was the same as landing on a bubble. The bump pushed her upward. It was the most surprising thing. She fell back again and landed on the same invisible bump. But when she focused, she saw that she indeed touched the ground which was not earth, but a thick entanglement of green vines and moss. The Floom tinted the bowl shaped flowers growing out of it to glow as white as snow.
"The Repelling Earth." Waverly laughed. The fear she had felt suddenly washed away as though it had never come.
She repeatedly bounced up and down on the pillow-like surface, switching her position of descent and hooting with the brothers. They remained at it for a long time.
The fun was overwhelming.
"Now!" Diarmaid said to Dermot, and they both reached for Waverly's hand midair. Their next fall did not repel them, instead, it swallowed them.
Waverly's feet landed on something solid, but the shock of it did not come as one would naturally expect.
"Holy crabapple!" She gasped gawking up at a roof of diamonds. Each one was about as large as a pebble.
The underground felt strangely cozy, like the inside of a home. The vines from above formed the cavern roof. Yellow reeds grew all around, and a small stream flowed behind them, serving as their source of life.
A bunch of ancient, but important looking belongings were arranged in the dry corner; dusty bags, old cloaks, worn out climbing ropes, faded maps, rusted fishing rods, bows and arrows carved from olive wood, empty flasks, kegs, goglets, broken plates and black pans, heaped firewood, and many more.
The Floom was more vibrant there and so even without the light of day, Waverly saw perfectly well.
"This used to be their hideout." Dermot revealed, pointing to the old items. His voice sounded closeby even though he stood a bit farther off.
"They did not care much for the diamonds. It's been here for ages and more keep popping out." Diarmaid said, plucking off a piece of diamond from the roof. He examined it then lugged it.
"Elves have wealth already." Waverly breathed. "Men would kill themselves for a cavern such as this."
"Which is why we showed it to you. You're a different kind of man." Diarmaid said then added in a blink. "Woman, I mean."
Waverly chuckled heartily and walked the length of the cavern. It was not so big, but the amount of wealth it held was enough to create a small empire. She faintly recalled Opal's diamond.
"Where does the water go?" She asked, following the stream, but it flowed right through a dead end wall of solid earth as cold as ice. Also, the Floom did not touch the water.
"Up, down, here and there." Dermot replied, using mild hand gestures. "It goes wherever it wants to. We've tried to follow it, but when we come out of the cavern, it just disappears. I am sure it leads somewhere. We are yet to discover where which is why we keep coming back."
Waverly gazed up at the roof then at her wrist where woven twigs rested, adorned with numerous precious stones. She wondered how deep someone above would have to dig to be able to reach one of those diamonds. Her own stones now looked dull, like faded trinkets. No one could tell that they were such expensive stones, but she knew.
Once, when a Tyro had tried to pry it from her hand, Waverly had overreacted, summoning Calaire to ward him off. After that, she had buried the wristband somewhere in the forest for fear that it would be confiscated for life, but the Elf never reported the incident. He only avoided her as best he could.
"We should take you back. Your superiors might notice your lengthy absence." Dermot quietly thought, coming to stand next to her.
She glanced up at him. In the light of the Floomz and the twinkling diamonds, his features were fine and distinct from his brother's. She wondered how she had ever thought that they looked similar.
In the first month she had known them, Dermot had been noticeably distant; speaking only when spoken to, lagging behind whenever they walked, lowering his gaze, and standing as far from her as possible. She had spoken to Diarmaid about it, wondering if he despised her presence, but Diarmaid assured her that whatever behaviors his brother exhibited were for personal reasons and had nothing to do with her. His assurance only made her notice more of Dermot's awkward behavior.
She had met him just a day before her arrest, tying a bunch of logs together onto which he would pin a round bullseye.
"I planned on tying Diarmaid to it instead. He's always been a better target." He had joked with a small grin.
The memory was as fresh as The Repelling Earth in her mind.
She allowed Diarmaid lead her up a stone step that magically pushed them right out from the roof. It made Waverly feel like a nature spirit.
When she returned back to camp that night, no one but Havilah had noticed her absence.
"So, did you at least have a little bit of fun today?" Havilah inquired with a knowing smile.
Waverly returned the smile and shrugged lazily. "Maybe."
The former gave a simple nod and continued wiping her boots.
Waverly was not sure how much details Havilah knew, but whenever she returned from her adventures with the brothers, the Elfin was always there, waiting to know if the day was even more fun than the previous one. Waverly felt grateful for Havilah, who was fully aware of the hard time she was having at camp, and so the little fun she could get from wandering off was highly treasured by them both. Also, Havilah never once asked to come along, or question the activities Waverly engaged in whenever she left.
No one, not even Chedor, knew about her disappearances.
With time, Waverly's sword skills improved as Dermot taught her new fighting tricks. The one she loved most was one that involved incorporating blows from one's fist in between sword fights. It was incredibly difficult and the most tedious trick yet. Diarmaid was absent for most of their classes, but was always available for the fun. Despite being a decent swordsman, he hated to actually make use of his sword.
"I'd rather we all used a spear as it is much taller than both you and your opponent, and equally breakable. It either breaks in your hand, or over his head." He exhorted once.
Dermot playfully scolded him for his baseful nature.
They showed Waverly two more secret findings of the Wanderers; a moving hill overcrowded with hidden Florkions that could understand the Alp tongue, and the largest Elven coin ever crafted. It was forged to resemble a shield, heavier than an overloaded carriage and ridiculously shiny.
It was located in the farthest place yet; at the top of a small mountain that overlooked the Woodlands, the sea, and stood like a sentry before the greater ancient mountains. Everything there was grey and icy blue as the Floom season was slowly drawing to an end, and it seemed ridiculous that no one in a thousand plus years could have spotted the coin in all its golden glory, blaring like a trophy atop a shelf.
"The magic won't let anyone see it, even outsiders or magicians." Diarmaid said. "It's very protected, and it's been here for centuries past. The weight is a decoy, I think only a particular warrior can pick it up."
"What kind of warrior?" Waverly asked, tilting her head to stare at the fourth lion head engraved on the coin shield
"I don't know, but it won't be me." He answered.
A few weeks toward the end of The Floom, Dermot brought Waverly to the clearing in the woods. She had mastered a little of the trick he taught her and wanted her to show it to him, but she kept pulling back her punches every time.
At one point, he became angry at her and raised his voice then immediately apologized for it.
"She is going to wear you out, old man." A new voice interrupted.
Waverly turned sharply and found Brijjet standing a few ways off. His black and white curls were tousled about his face with the rest of his hair braided down his back. He wore a sleeved shirt of dark purple, brocaded with Elvish patterns and matching trousers embroidered with black threading. He looked healthier than the last time, his cheeks evidently puffy and his eyes bright.
"And where did you come from?" Dermot asked with a happy grin. He went forward and gave Brijjet an odd, complicated handshake.
"I thought I should come see how moonshine has been doing." Brijjet replied and cast a warm glance in Waverly's direction, but his smile melted off when he noticed her furious expression.
"I don't think moonshine is exactly happy to see you." Dermot warned in a laced tone.
As Brijjet approached, Waverly did not move, only watching him, her face stern and cold.
"I know you're angry. . ." He began.
She swiped at him with her sword. He dodged quicker than lightning, but it only angered her more. She had forgotten he was fast.
"Let me explain." He entreated in a placating voice, but Waverly was not listening.
She backed him up and slammed him into a tree, anger boiling in her gut.
"Whoa!" Dermot exclaimed. "And everyone thought you couldn't be pinned down."
Brijjet slipped out of Waverly's grip. His hair came loose a little. "Now, Waverly, don't. . ."
She dropped her sword and did a backflip, fiercely knocking him in the face and to the ground.
Dermot applauded joyously with a beaming smile. "Wow. Just wow! That was impressive."
As she watched him writhe on the ground, occasionally wiping off the blood on his nose, her anger slowly melted.
"You abandoned me." She spat.
"I noticed too." He groaned.
"This is definitely going to be interesting." Dermot chuckled, leaning against a tree to watch the pair.
Brijjet stood up and brushed the briar off his clothes. His nose was red from where the blood had been, and Waverly hated that he looked attractive still.
"I haven't been able to come see you because I joined the Company." He explained.
Waverly wanted to retort then immediately realized what he meant. She released her hands which had been balled into fists.
"You scout the other realms for information about the enemy?" She asked.
Brijjet relaxed. "Hasn't been easy, but yes. I only have the rest of The Floom season to take a break and then we continue."
She took a step forward, her breath suddenly hitching. "Did you see. . .?"
He gravely shook his head. "No."
Waverly's eyes dropped to the ground, tears welling in them, but she held back.
"I'm sorry." Brijjet said gently. "He could be anywhere, but wherever he is, I don't think it would be so easy to find him."
She nodded absentmindedly and began to walk away, catching a few words from Dermot as he asked Brijjet whom they were talking about.
Brijjet's reply was; "A dear friend. He was the first one taken before all of this began."
Waverly stood alone in the forest. Chirping birds were all she could hear. She felt totally helpless, wondering if the day would come when she would have to completely give up on ever finding Judson again.
She sniffled.
"Well, well. . ." A malicious voice came from behind.
She wheeled and found a group of Elven boys approaching, snickering and staring her down as they did. She made no attempts to wipe her tears, but watched them assemble in front of her. Their leader was the same Elf who usually made fun of her mismatched eyes through monstrous sketches.
"Someone is crying because she misses her mother and wants to go home." He said imitating a child's voice. His fellows laughed.
Waverly stared quietly at them, but her entire body was aching to move. Something was urging her to react, but she held back for reasons she was not sure of.
The leader pouted and tilted his head.
"Aren't you going to say anything?" He asked tauntingly.
Still, she kept shut. Her hand suddenly felt overcharged, like it had been struck by lightning a few times over. The skin on her palm tingled and her fingers felt numb.
"Grab her." The leader spat.
One of them swiftly approached. He was exactly Waverly's height. He made to hold her, and without fully meaning to – she struck him hard. She was not sure where exactly, but the Elf fell sideways to the ground like a log.
The group did not notice anything strange until their mate made no attempts to move.
"What has she done to him?" They murmured, going over to check on him.
One of them looked up in disbelief. "You slapped him unconscious."
"She's killed him." The leader roared.
Just then, Dermot and Brijjet emerged from behind. They simultaneously scanned the scene then rushed to check on the sprawled out Elf.
"Look what she's done. She's killed him with only one strike." The leader shouted.
"Shut up!" Brijjet commanded with a growl, and the boy thinned his lips in silence.
Dermot felt the boy's neck and chest.
"He's fine. He's only unconscious." He announced. There were several heaving breaths of relief.
Brijjet stood up to face the Elves. He seemed to tower over them. His blue eyes flashed angrily when he began to speak. Waverly thought he looked dangerous when he was angry. It was an easy guess that the group was aware of his status as a Company soldier and a god's blood – the latter which made him all the more intimidating. For a split second, she felt tempted to blurt out the truth about her parentage and watch her bullies wet themselves.
"All of you, take him back and see to it that he's revived, and when he is, I would like the lot of you to keep your mouth shut about whatever happened here." He stared directly into their eyes as he spoke, striking fear in them so hard that none could move.
"If I get across to anyone murmuring about this, you will all be sorry. Are we clear?"
"Yes, sir!" They answered hastily.
"Now, get out!" Brijjet finished, moving away to allow them pick up their friend. They scurried away with him in their arms.
Brijjet closed his eyes and inhaled then turned to Dermot. "Please make sure they get there safely."
Dermot had a reluctant look on his face, but followed the younglings nonetheless. Brijjet turned to Waverly, who looked unsure of whatever had just taken place. He stepped close and placed both hands on her shoulders.
"Are you alright?" He asked quietly.
She shook her head, allowing the compressed tears to fall freely. He pulled her into a tight embrace and Waverly cried into his brocade.
That night, she could not engage in anything her roommates were doing. Grace invited her to arm wrestle Ceylon, but Waverly ignored her.
"Come on! The winner gets to break every bone in his arm." Regent offered and still, Waverly remained put.
Havilah glanced at her, but said nothing. Her happy mood suddenly turned sour when Regent asked her to juggle a pair of colorful marble balls.
"Do it yourself." She snapped and he flinched.
"Why are you mad at me all of a sudden? What did I do wrong?" He asked, baffled at her strange outburst.
His eyes clocked to Waverly, who sat with distant eyes, her knees snuggled up to her chest, and then back to Havilah, who silently shuffled a pack of cards.
He turned to Phyllis and whispered. "I think they're slowly becoming the same person."
In the morning, Waverly woke up feeling even worse than the night before. Her nightmares returned and were as painfully vivid as ever. This time, she had seen children being thrown into a dungeon then taken out again. When their bodies were returned, they were lifeless – every last drop of blood drained out so that their skin was pale as tree sap.
She rather sluggishly joined the others in the training ground. Chedor paired them up and ordered them to duel. The sound of swords clanking was deafening, but it proved a worthless distraction. Waverly was in a world of her own and it was even noisier there than on the training ground.
Chedor's shouts and admonishments reached her from afar. Her opponent's sword looked like wind and her own sword like smoke. She tried hard to concentrate, but her mind kept drifting back to the ugly images she had seen in her sleep.
Why am I seeing them? She asked.
You should not lose your concentration like that.
Dermot's voice came like rushing water, each word drowned out by an ocean of thoughts. Something sharp cut across her face, but the pain was dull. Thick liquid dripped down her jaw and her opponent stared unblinkingly at her.
"You! Miss important." Chedor growled pointing at her. "Three laps. Now!"
Waverly dropped her sword and walked slothfully towards the twelve feet deep labyrinth. She jumped in and began to run. She ran and ran until she noticed that it had begun to rain – heavily. Still, she kept on. Chedor would not end training nor her punishment because of a downpour. The sky turned grey and a white mist hung like soup in the air. The labyrinth was as misleading as ever, obscured by fog, but somehow Waverly knew which turns to take, which paths had traps in them and which ones were slick with mud. She inadvertently opened her senses and darted toward a particular path. The labyrinth wound further into a dark sloping tunnel that went deeper into the ground.
She followed it then halted where the darkness became too intense to see through. Something was in there and whatever it was did not seem friendly. It was watching. It had been watching for a long time and it had been waiting.
Light would always search out the darkness. Selene's voice came.
Waverly turned and ran then climbed back up to the training ground, promising to return and find out more about the strange dark tunnel, but darkness had always been her bane; the one thing she completely feared, and so she totally forgot to come back all through the week, and as if it were fated, Chedor did not punish her with any more laps.