Early the next morning Cecily woke in darkness, filled with a fear she couldn't name. The small fire in the center of her cave had gone out. For a moment, she was aware of nothing except the blissful sensation of finally being cool. She blinked around and found Cerin nestled in the furs beside her. Rising, she felt her way around the room and fetched a box of matches from her satchel. When she struck the matchstick, a dark figure seemed to swim in the sulfur glare, causing her to freeze absolutely still, as if the point of a sword caught her under the chin.
"Tut," admonished the figure from behind the sword. After a moment, Hael stepped forward into her quarters. "An apprentice of the Sinri Keep should always be at the ready."
"Hael?" Cecily said, breathless. The dwarf smiled, and she recognized the sound of the trinkets entangled in his hair. "What are you doing here?"
"Save your breath. I owe you a debt. Though I knew not that Oril would push you so far." He frowned, his plumy brows drawing together over his sharp nose. "How do you fair, Raven of Imrath?"
"Well enough," Cecily said, with a shrug. "My body will ache a while longer yet, but..." She glanced down at herself and looked away. "I am not as bonny as I used to be."
"Do you think that matters?" Hael said. The gentle touch of his fingers was on the scarred side of Cecily's shoulder.
"Does it not?" Cecily asked, softly. "My whole life I thought I knew who I was – my place, my purpose." She stopped, shook her head, her throat working, and turned back to the fire. "Who am I?"
Hael fell silent, or as silent as Cecily had ever heard a dwarf fall. His throat swelled only a little under the collar of his cloak, a thrumming sound vibrating behind closed lips as he thought.
"You are much more than what everyone says you are, fire-child," he said, finally. "You are a spark, if Oril sees or not. Your place is here among us."
Cecily shook her head in disbelief. "The dwarves won't help me."
Hael smiled. "Am I not a dwarf?" he said, his voice rang with an earned pride. He patted his belly under the cloak. Suddenly, his crooked smile turned into a frown, and he tapped one fingernail against his teeth. "If acceptance is what you seek, you must win over the elders. And we must prove that you are far more than just meat for the Veils."
"Hael–"
"Tut," he admonished. "There is a great deal of work to be done." His long fingers curled around the hilt of his longsword propped before him, and he moved no more than a statue might.
"We must slay the Veils at their source," he said. Then after a long pause, Hael continued. "Do you know the legend of Raegan and the Cursed One?"
"I have heard some rumors, but I don't know the legend in full."
Hael's eyes twinkled. "Centuries ago, King Raegan lead an army into the Moorlands to defeat the dark mages that dwelled within the fog. They fought two battles in five days: the War of Fallen Crowns. On the fifth day, the dark ones sent a delegate to negotiate an armistice, or that's what Raegan was led to believe" – Hael shook his head – "the bastards attacked from the inside and sent a message: that even the best of men could be broken. In the end, Raegan's squire, realizing the deception, shielded his king and took the blow."
"What happened to him?" she asked, her heart racing with excitement.
"The mages gave their lives to cast that spell, knowing that once it hit the king, he would tear the world apart from the inside." Thoughtful, Hael held his tongue between his teeth. "The squire was bewitched and when Raegan learned of this, he banished the poor soul from his kingdom into Moorlands. He did survive, black magic healed his wounds. Five centuries have passed, and now, they say all the Veils are his children. But he is mortal – he can die. Only the elders will not risk the lives it would take to defeat him."
"Hasn't he suffered enough?" she asked. "How do we defeat such a man?"
"Like we would defeat any other man."
"I haven't mastered the sword yet," she said after a few moments of wrangling her thoughts. "You would be fighting alone." Hael tipped his head, eyebrows rising in a way she thought was meant to be encouraging. "I couldn't wield a sword in proper combat if my life depended on it."
"Why have you waited so long to train with your sword? You could have already mastered it if you'd applied yourself," Hael said reasonably. "You must have a shared mind with your weapons."
"I didn't think I would live so long."
The dwarf hesitated for a moment, looking her over with squinted eyes.
"I've practiced some in the forge," Cecily admitted half-heartedly. "I'm not skilled enough to kill Veil alone."
"Then you must practice more," Hael seemed pleased with his conclusion. "Bring your weapon, we must make haste before the sun rises."
Cecily's throat was hurting, but at least her head was clearing. "Where are we going?"
"To train! We haven't a moment to waste," he said. "When we defeat the Cursed One, and I believe we will, my people will be free from a fear we have known all our lives. Many generations of dwarves have been taken by the Veils."
"You can't know that we will succeed," Cecily said, and waited while Hael considered her doubts, bobbing his head.
"I will gamble." He smiled at her, brilliantly. "It's one thing to drive them away. Easy. Far different to hound them to bay and wipe them out."
"So we'll kill all the Veils," Cecily said, not certain she could credit it.
"Yes, if we kill the Cursed One, the Veils can no longer survive. All the Veils in the tunnels will die."
Cecily stumbled. She kept her grip on Hael's cloak, though, and his momentum pulled her up and steady. Awake and alert, Cerin was beside her. She buried her other hand in his fur, just because he was there and warm. She didn't speak, and Hael didn't look at her.
The tips of Cecily's toes were unfeeling in her boots by the time Hael led them to a tunnel entrance she wouldn't have found without him. It was too small for Veils – barely big enough for her or Cerin – and hidden in the undergrowth.
"A hole?" Cecily said.
"For a mouse," Hael answered, and brushed past her, ducking his head as he bustled underground. "It's an escape tunnel," he said. "Come."
She exchanged glances with Cerin before moving to her hands and knees to follow. It was awkward going; Cerin could get through only by wriggling, and Cecily thought that her spine would be as twisted as Hael.
"These surely aren't Veil tunnels," Cecily half-whispered, when she paused for a breath. "They could barely fit through there."
"'Tis a new tunnel." Hael's answer echoed into the darkness. "They were driven from their old steadings by yours truly. It is unfortunate you are not with your Mastery. Not yet broadened with smithing, and bearing, or the magic used to create these warrens."
"Magic?" Cecily asked, remembering to keep her voice low.
"Of course," Hael answered. "You don't think Veils delve honestly like the rest of us, do you?"
Cecily thought of the pulse and cling of their shadows on the shaped stone walls and shuddered. No.
"I hid from my kin here when I was a wee one, and knew the way, but I was not certain it was open still."
"What would you have done if it hadn't been?" Cecily asked; her voice strange and thin. She didn't like the close walls and the dark.
Slow, bloody going: she felt old wounds re-opening by the time she dragged herself through the last hole in the series. Finally, when her fingertips touched the cold dirt of the Moorlands, she looked up at Hael, who leaned casually on his sword, flashing a lopsided smile.
"We would have died if it hadn't been."
Perhaps they were as good as dead already, and she would have preferred a warmer crypt underground.
Months had passed since that day; now snow covered every inch of the Moorlands, shining silver beneath the light of the full moon that hung in the night sky high above her head. In truth, each time they ventured out to train, the fresh air felt sweet in her lungs, and her eyes were soothed by the pale landscape and muted sky.
The clean sharp smell of evergreens hung in the air. As she brushed against their branches, the fine snow sifted down, falling without a sound. On impulse, she scooped a handful and touched it to her tongue. It tasted like the air, fresh and cold and faintly resinous. Soon, she was panting for breath in the strange atmosphere, but she no longer felt cold. As they penetrated deeper into the woods, a soft quiet descended.
"It has been far too long since our last session," Hael had remarked earlier that day, deciding that a bit of impromptu sparring would allow him to judge her progress. All this time, Cecily knew that he was trying to prove his point by pitting an inexperienced girl against an older and experienced fighter, and he was eager to reveal what she was capable of. She secretly hoped she was living up to that expectation.
Before taking her leave, Cecily drew another line in her chalk-stone tally: four hundred and fifty-four days of apprenticeship in the Sinri Keep. Her hand shook, and she could feel a small pulse emanating from the chalk-stone in her palm. Gradually, the weight of the stone lifted from her hand and was soon floating in the air before her very eyes. Her mind held it for a few moments; allowing the object to hover unsteadily. Satisfied with the distance traveled, she finally released the chalk-stone when it floated beyond the edge of her stone table.
"Parlor tricks," she'd said, letting out a long-suffering sigh when she realized she was late for her lesson by then.
Once outside, both combatants stood ready with weapons in their hands and sheaths about their waists. Around them lay the thick mantle of snow, disturbed only by their footsteps. Nothing moved: there was no wind, no creature, nothing to mar the perfect stillness.
Cecily closed her eyes, tightening and loosening her hold on her weapons. She had chosen twin wooden scimitars that she'd crafted from leftover wood she chopped to kindle her fire. Since she couldn't wield her newly forged longsword just yet, she would practice with her second favorite – twin scimitars of the Drakaene, typically wielded by the old sorcerers. Despite being far thinner and smaller than Hael's longsword, she had been immediately taken by the feeling of weight in wood. The balance felt perfect as she gave each of them a swing.
Taking a deep breath, she let out her anxiety with slow pleasure, steadying her nerves. All of her senses were heightened: the soft crunch of icy snow beneath her boots was almost deafening, and the wool of her sweater felt like sandpaper against her skin. She never showed it openly, but each training session always frightened and excited her simultaneously.
"Begin in your own time," Hael said.
Cecily flashed a weak smile and moved forward, making the first move to attack. Hael reacted instantly and rushed forward. She gave a small cry, moving her wooden swords to intercept the dwarf's counterattack. The sheer force behind the strike sent one of Cecily's weapons flying from her grasp. She heard the sound of the scimitar flying through the air and the thump of its wood as it embedded itself in the ground.
"Do not fret," Hael calmed her, "take your time, it will come to you."
At that moment, he seemed like a different man. His shoulders were rounded with the weight of his practice sword; his face was like a mask.
Cecily felt her cheeks grow hot and hung her head as she slowly walked over to pick up her weapon. Whenever she'd practiced in the forges, she could perform maneuvers and stances, but her movements weren't fluent like a dance. There was still something unfamiliar about sparring. She had to act quickly. As she came to stand opposite Hael, she looked down at her hands clasped around the hilts of the wooden scimitars. Already, the fire that she'd learned to harness at the core of her soul was building; the power surged, stronger than ever, engulfing her. The thumping of her heartbeat in her ears drowned all other sounds.
When she looked up again, she imagined that Hael could see the strength of will in her eyes.
"It seems you are now ready." The dwarf smiled, without a hint of arrogance.
Cecily nodded and ran forward. Her strikes came in from alternate sides and differing heights, rocking Hael back on his heels as he deflected each attack with the flat of his blade. The dull smack of wood on wood echoed through the forest. Her attacks persisted, but he seemed unwilling to go on the offensive just yet.
With her momentum slowly dying, Cecily backed off a step. Hael came forward and prepared to strike when he was suddenly greeted by another fierce onslaught. She stepped back and followed with a spin. She sliced with both swords from the same side and the force of the swing pushed Hael back again. He quickly raised his weapon in defense once more.
The dwarf waited for Cecily to tire and pause, and when she did, he seized the opportunity to spin backward and increase the gap between them. As he spun, he strengthened the hold of his weapon with both hands.
Cecily's momentary confusion over the move was all the opening Hael needed. Reversing his spin, he took a step forward and lashed out with a powerful swing. And she raised her sword just in time, defending the hit, but was forced back. Her sword arm felt the vibrations of the hit and became almost numbed by it. Her body lanced in again, her sword arcing out in a slashing attack. Hael's blade found hers in mid-air and stopped it dead. Again, she felt his strength behind the weapon clash.
Stepping back, Cecily pointed one of her scimitars at Hael. "I know what you're trying to do!" she accused him angrily.
"And what would that be?" Hael said, taunting.
"You're forcing me to attack you rather than your weapons, are you not?" Cecily asked as much as stated, as she came to the realization just then.
"Very good. Now, what is stopping you?" Hael retorted with a smile.
"I don't want to hurt you!" She knew these were not the right words to say. Given more time she might have come up with a better way to convey her fear of hurting another person she cared about, or rather leaving herself open to the same.
"You?" Hael said, laughing. "Hurt me? You will never get the chance!"
His mockery seemed genuine enough. Cecily surmised that he sensed a fighting spirit in her and he intended to ignite it.
Hael swung down and then cut across as he roared forward. Rather than parry, Cecily stepped to the side and bent backward, narrowly avoiding his strike, but finding herself in an awkward position as the next strike came in. She caught the blow on the curve of her scimitar and led the attack out wide.
Cecily was breathing heavily as she stepped away.
"You have much to learn about good swordsmanship, Raven of Imrath," Hael affirmed. "Our practice is mostly with wooden swords, but it takes a master to handle steel."
"There would be no mercy if I handled steel." Cecily fixed Hael with a determined glare which gave him pause. The delay was enough for her to close the distance between them. Hael reacted quickly, launching an attack, but she deflected the hit and sent her blade out wide while the other swooped in for a slash.
Hael turned his body, dodging her move. He used his other hand to grab Cecily's wrist and pulled her forward. With one hand still out wide across his body, she knew such a position would leave her too vulnerable. Thinking quickly, she released her parrying scimitar and threw herself into a roll.
From a short distance away, Cecily watched as Hael flipped her lost scimitar up with his foot and tossed it aside. While he busied himself with the task, she dove in again. Whereat he immediately prepared a parry, but no attack was made.
Cecily rushed straight past him and grabbed his second practice sword as she went, drawing it and turning again to face him.
The scimitar was a lot heavier than her own, making the balance feel unnaturally off.
Hael smiled in appreciation of the maneuver.
"You liked that? Wait until you see this." She grinned, feeling far more confident than at the start. She moved in again, raising the heavy scimitar and launching another attack.
Hael's block was thrown aside as the move became a parry and the light scimitar came across in a slash that he could only avoid by sucking in his gut.
Cecily wore a look of concentration that turned to worry when she saw a genuine smile on the dwarf's face. Suddenly moving with incredible speed, Hael locked his sword with its twin in her hands. With a shove and a twist, he forced the sword from Cecily's grasp, sending it flying up and snatching it from the air. Just as quickly as he had moved forward, he backed away.
Standing by Cecily's fallen scimitar, Hael hooked it up with his foot and kicked it towards her. As she collected it carefully, never taking her eyes off her opponent, the dwarf smirked. It was an odd gesture coming from his twisted face.
"Combat has a way of letting us see the truth in the world," he explained. "When one come close to that blessed death, your food tastes better. We are blinded, for in truth, it always tasted that way, but day by day we let ourselves grow blind to it all."
Cecily gave a slightly unsettled look, but raised her weapons. It was not a strange philosophy to hear from a dwarf, she believed, but she wasn't quite in agreement.
"We are still blind!" she said, feeling a fire ignite inside her. "Blind enough to live beneath this cruel course of tyrants. Blind enough to believe that war ought to be fought as mercifully as possible. Why must we obey the laws of these masters?"
"Is it not mercy, forgiveness, and forbearance what we seek from our brothers? Our shield-mates? Mercy isn't always appropriate, but sometimes you will find that it is."
The face of the man who burned her mother alive flashed through her mind, igniting her spirit. "Compassion for one's brothers does not equate to the compassion for one's enemies," she said, nearly breathless. "When will I know for certain?"
"You will know when. Do not let revenge overtake you," Hael advised. "Only then will your enemies have power over you."
"I will not let that happen – not to me!"
"Your mind is not rattled, fire-child. You must only open it. Why not leave it open for a while?"
The swords clashed as both wielders came together in the middle of the clearing. Like a dance, the swords were parried and thrust as bodies spun and dodged. The blows were aimed beautifully, but deflected, and avoided with equal perfection.
The building momentum suddenly came to a halt as the combatants came together in a weapons lock. Both fighters wore masks of determination and absolute concentration as they stared at one another. They stayed locked for a time, when just as suddenly as they had come together, they shoved each other apart.
Standing separated, both combatants sheathed their weapons and stared into each other's smiles.
Cecily extended a hand, which Hael took and pulled her forward into a hug.
"Well-fought, Raven," the dwarf said and laughed. "You see, all you must do is think of your destiny and you shall have it."
She closed her eyes for a moment. "I don't believe in destiny. The universe doesn't elect what I do next. I will handle it my way."
"Believe what you will," Hael replied in a placid tone. "But dwell not in the past. Your destiny lies not there, but here - now. Great wars are still to be fought. The lessons of the past may yet save you, and thus Saol Eile has guided you here."
"You believe that?" she pried.
Hael stood silent, letting her sort things out for herself. Doubts and confusion closed in on her; the thought of her destiny leading her to such a fate was too much to digest. She sat on the frozen ground with knotted brows, reflecting on the events that had befallen her, searching desperately for a reason.
"We must return to our tunnels," Hael said at last. "The road ahead is hard and long; weariness will find you in the days to come."
Cecily rose. "Go ahead without me. I'd like to stay for a while longer."
Hael nodded, taking a reluctant step toward the mountain. "Do not linger for too long," he advised. "Night is falling, and the creatures of the day must make way for those that lurk in the night, who will soon wake. I, like all other creatures of the day, must depart."
"I promise," she said with strength in her tone. "I am an apprentice of the Sinri Keep and I am always at the ready."
Cecily waited until Hael was out of sight before strolling off in the opposite direction. With hands on her hips, and head bent, she turned to reflect the deepest part of her soul, but without any real thoughts in her mind – as if they had been stolen from her.
The valley, with its plumes of trees covered in powdery white snow, its mantles of frozen rock, the great hills all around, caught her attention as she walked west in the direction of the setting sun, which had now vanished below the horizon. All it had left behind was a void, a kind of brilliant emptiness, and now the stars were shining as if they were no longer in communication with the realm.
As she walked, indifference began to set in. Moreover, it felt more like abandonment, and the realization came as if a key had been turned in a lock. For quite some time, Cecily was silent upon the subject of her misfortunes, but she couldn't disguise the anger she felt. For hours, she wanted to remain absorbed in the deepest of thoughts, her eyes fixed upon the same object, seated in the same spot.
The day's lesson had proceeded more smoothly than she could have hoped. Hael was always inclined to teach to her, and she was always in awe of the dwarf's strength and agility. In awe, and – Cecily thought – a little in fear. In the forges, she mostly contented herself watching the others spar, and tried not to blush each time they would cast a speculative glance in her direction.
Resting against the bark of a twisted tree, Cecily found herself to be immensely tired of her routine, and the nightmares that plagued her sleep were not helping. And really, she had nothing to say. She was no tactician, like Hael or the other dwarves that delved in the tunnels. She'd done nothing but gamble her life, and it was only Hael's unexpected friendship that had kept her alive.
So she sat silently, blessing her good fortune for such a companion, and bit her thumbnail. She missed Cerin with a great numb weight she had almost forgotten, imagining the enormous wolf's sleeping comfortably by the fire, furs draped across his back. The image made her eyes burn like a child's. Slowly, she closed her eyes to hide her tears.
Cecily almost jumped out of her skin when a firm hand fell on her shoulder. She looked up, expecting to see Hael's longsword at the ready, but instead, she was startled to see someone she hadn't expected. His pale face with brilliant green eyes stared down at her from above. Tall. Handsome. His broad shoulders and narrow hips were tailored for his elegant regalia of leather.
He didn't move or speak; he just waited.
"Daire."