[Watchers of the Shadow] Chapter One (part 1)

            The bells tolled.

            Deep reverberating peals and the soft tinkle of chimes intertwined into a lament that could be heard for leagues around: from the towering spires and sprawling buildings of the city, to the terraced fields of the low hills surrounding, and to the thick forests far north. For a moment, the bellsong was all that could be heard. Birds quieted. The wailing wind  paused, as if holding its breath. There was only the song of bells, a song of mourning and tragedy.

            Avaris pulled back on his reins, turning back to look towards the south where the bellsong came, and where the city of Nessa stood. They were already half a day away, having set off at first light, yet they could still hear every sorrowful note clearly. Absently, he fingered the blue sapphire drop studded in his right earlobe as he did when worried. It had been his mother’s once, and usually her memory was enough to comfort him when he was troubled. But, this time, his unease only grew.

            I’ve never heard the bells sing so sorrowfully, he thought worriedly. It was a bad omen, on the first day of his journey. The bells were relics from an age of magic centuries past, found in the old abandoned buildings that have now become the thriving city of Nessa. Untouched, the bells would ring at precisely midday: every song different, but each, Avaris knew, a foretelling. Perhaps not many believed in the magic of the bells—or magic at all, for that matter—but Avaris believed,  and the bellsong worried him. What could it mean?

            “Your Highness Avaris?” a voice called gruffly, pulling him out of his thoughts. He realized that the company had stopped around him as well, and Sir Carean Daves was frowning back at him in his saddle. The knight had a hard, tanned face, and dark eyes framed by black hair with wings of gray at his temples. Like all of the thirty soldiers that surrounded him, Carean wore black mail underneath a plain black tunic with the rearing silver griffin of the Shaeronian royal family embroidered on the collar, but the sword that hung at his waist was wrapped with crimson rather than black wrappings. “May I ask if there is a problem?”

            Avaris shook his head, smiling. “No, my apologies Sir Carean. My attention was only caught by the bellsong.”

            Carean grunted then continued on, motioning for the other soldiers to follow, and Avaris kicked his own bay stallion forward as well. He shifted uncomfortably in his saddle, but he said nothing as they continued onward through the forest. He had not ridden a horse for over five years, yet today he had already spent hours in a saddle. I’m definitely going to have saddlesores later, he thought with a sigh. Still, he did not want to stop earlier than he needed to. Today, he was feeling better than he had in years, and he did not want to waste this chance to lengthen the distance from Nessa; after all, there were weeks of travel yet, and there was no saying that his sickness would have to drag down the party again in the future. Better to travel as far as possible in the beginning if he could.

            “Your Highness, how are you faring?” Havein Valers asked, his short chestnut horse trotting up to join him. He was a paunchy man with thinning white hair and black orbs of eyes that seemed unable to stay in one spot for longer than a moment. He tapped the sweat from his flushed forehead with a handkerchief, which, Avaris guessed, was likely already soaked through considering how much the man had been using it this past morning. Havein wore a long-sleeved green silk tunic underneath a cloak of ermine fur, and a sword hung awkwardly at his gut, next to the satchel of medicines he carried with him at all times. “Do you need to rest?”

            From the looks of it, he is the one who needs to rest, Avaris thought somewhat wryly. He had no illusions that the doctor truly cared for him. Years of having Havein as his personal physician had shown him that well enough; the man only did the minimum of what was required of him, and he would not have come along if it were not for the king’s direct orders—as well as the promise of a noble title if he would ensure that Avaris survived long enough to arrive at the Academy. Avaris shook his head. “I am fine. Since we left the city, my health has turned much for the better. I can keep going for a while yet.”

            Havein tapped at his face with his handkerchief, glancing at the knight that rode stolidly in front of them. “Are you sure? You’ve never ridden for this long before. Your condition may act up if you push yourself, Your Highness.”

            “I’m fine,” Avaris insisted. “There’s hours of daylight yet, and it’d be best if we could get as far as we could before having to camp. I don’t want to slow us down more than we have to.”

            “But…”

            “Don’t worry. I’ll be sure not to push myself,” Avaris smiled. “Thank you for your concern.”

            “As you wish,” Havein said respectfully, dropping back behind him once again. He thought he could hear the man muttering something about wine and a fire and saddlesores.

            Avaris shook his head, pulling his black sable cloak closer as the wind howled once again. Black clouds churned in the overcast sky, and already the wind carried the biting cold of the approaching winter. He regretted the coat stowed away in his saddlebags, thicker than the dark blue coat he now wore, which had silver griffins, the royal symbol of Shaerone, were embroidered on the collar and cuffs. He had chosen the coat as a symbol of farewell to his homeland, yet now he regretted his sentimentality as he felt the cold sink into his skin. Idly, he felt awkwardly at the sword that hung at his waist. The weight was unfamiliar, and, truly he would have preferred to have left the sword in his bags if his father had not all but ordered for him to carry it with him on the journey north.

Goddess, I’m going to the Academy? He had asked briefly about the Academy after he had received the notice from his father the night before. All he knew was that it was a Belaran school of fighting, one known to produce the strongest warriors.. He had heard that the training was grueling, and even seasoned fighters had not been able to pass the Initiation. Many had even left maimed, and there had been rumors that some had died. And he—sickly and having never held a sword for years—was supposed to attend? His stomach twisted uneasily at the prospect. It’s impossible.

Suddenly Carean signaled for them to stop. The knight scanned the trees in front of them warily, his hand on his sword. “Whoever is there come out,” he growled. “Don’t think you can hide.”

At first, there was only silence. Finally, the bushes rustled and a slim figure stepped out in front of them. The new arrival appeared to be a slender young man in a plain brown coat and dark gray breeches tucked into light leather boots laced up to the knees. A shortsword hung from the belt around his waist, alongside a leather satchel and dagger. He had eyes of molten amber sparkled with mischief, and a smile that played around his lips. And although his features were softer and his complexion darker, he was almost identical to Avaris. “A pity,” he complained. “I had a bet with Vernad whether you’d all stumble over me before you noticed. I was so close as well!” He sighed in exaggerated disappointment.

Carean’s expression darkened, but Avaris gaped. “You, you….” He stammered for a moment. There was no way that he would not recognize this person in front of him. “Aren’t you supposed to be in Nessa, Sera?”

 Ignoring the dark expressions of Carean and the other soldiers, his twin grinned at him and winked. “Hey there brother! A coincidence meeting you here!”

“Sera?” Carean looked at his twin suspiciously. “This is the princess Seraphel?”

Avaris nodded. “Yes, she is my sister. There’s no mistake.” They were twins, and although there were slight differences in their features, they shared an unmistakable resemblance. Now that Sera was dressed in men’s clothing, the resemblance was even more striking. But, even if they shared an almost identical face, Sera had a mischievous smile and playful quality to her that he could distinguish in a glance. Smiling, Avaris shook his head. “What are you doing here, Sera?”

Sera smiled. “I snuck out yesterday night once I heard the news. Father should be finding out just about now that I’m gone.”

“How did you sneak out of the palace?” Avaris arched a brow. He was sure that there had been guards on the gates, and sneaking her horse out of the stables would not have been an easy feat.

She stuck out a tongue at him. “Secret,” she teased. “And it’s not just me. Vernad and Rhea are with me as well. I am going with you.”

“Princess Seraphel,” Carean interrupted flatly. “You should not be out here this far from Nessa. I will send some soldiers to accompany you back where you belong.”

“No!” she protested. Her gaze turned determined. “I am going with you. At the very least, at least until the Gorge of Souls.” She smiled crookedly. “I was supposed to go to the Convent in Destar next week regardless, so the route part of the way is the same. I’ve already sent a pigeon back to Nessa.” Sera finished firmly when she saw Carean’s scowl deepen.

Father will definitely not be pleased when he finds out she’s gone. Avaris recognized her tone for the one she used when at her most stubborn: pushing back a landslide would have been easier than making her change her mind. He spared a sidelong glance at the knight. Carean’s face was as dark as the brewing storm clouds in the black skies above. Although Avaris knew that he should probably try to convince her to turn back, he could not help but feel glad for her appearance. She had been the only one close to him in the palace, and up until he had grown sick after their mother died they had been inseparable. Even after he had grown ill, she had always still managed to find some way to sneak out to meet him, to the exasperation of her nursemaids and guards. She had been like a breath of fresh air in the suffocating palace. That this may be the last chance for him to see her again…

“Sir Carean,” Avaris said. “Since our route is the same, there should not be any problem if Seraphel comes with us. I’m sure that the king will not oppose her leaving for the Convent early.” After the frustration of Seraphel’s teachers in their attempts to reign in her spirit, their father had simply ordered for her to be sent to the Convent, where, he hoped, she would learn “the grace and gentleness reminiscent of the Goddess.” Of course, she had balked at the idea and somehow managed to push back the departure date by a month because of one reason or another. To hear that Seraphel had actually gone to the Convent of her own accord might be reason enough for the king’s anger at her running away to cool by a half.

“The route is dangerous,” Carean said stiffly. “There are dracyls in the mountains as well as bandits in the border. To have to protect two ladies as well is not something I’d like to do if I can avoid it, Your Highness.”

“I am not going back,” Seraphel repeated. “And there is no need to protect me. I’ve brought guards as well, and they can assist you as well. Raen?”

            Suddenly, the bushes rustled, and a young man stepped out. He had skin of golden honey and dark black hair that curled beneath his ears. He wore a plain leather jerkin over a woolen white tunic and earth brown breeches tucked into black leather boots laced up to his knees. A sword and dagger hung at his waist, and although he seemed relaxed he seemed ready to move at any time, like a wolf at bay. A black, twisted tattoo was etched into the right side of his face, and bloody bandages were wrapped around his neck. Cold, emotionless gray eyes too old for his young, unshaven face studied them quietly.

At the new arrival, soldiers either raised their bows or put a hand on the hilt of their sword warily. Even Carean’s gaze hardened, and his grip on his sword hilt tightened. From his reaction, it seemed the knight had not noticed the man’s presence as well.

“Princess Seraphel,” the young man said quietly. “Rhea Bales and Vernad Trusen are distressed at your going on alone.”

Sera smiled. “Raen, go ahead and bring them over. Tell them I found my brother.”

“As my lady wishes,” the young man named Raen said. With a soft rustle of leaves, he vanished back into the brushes and trees.

“Who is he?” Avaris asked with a frown. “He doesn’t seem like a normal guard.”

“He’s a basda,” Carean said with distaste. “What are you doing with one of those, my lady?”

“What!” a shrill shriek came from behind. Havein had kicked his short chestnut up front to join them and was staring off in the direction Raen had left with bulging eyes. “What is a monster like that doing here?”

Avaris also widened his eyes. “A basda?” Basda were supposed to have been all killed ten years ago. To think that there was still one alive… He looked at his sister uneasily. Why is one of them with her?

 “He’s not a basda any longer,” Sera protested. “He’s a free man, and my guard.”

“He’s dangerous. And you even gave him a sword!” Carean roared, all pretense at respect forgotten. “Are you planning on getting us all killed?”

“Raen is my guard,” Sera snapped. “He is not going to kill anyone.”

“And how do you know that, my lady?” Carean grated. “The basda are murderous monsters. Do you think that their nature can be changed so easily?”

“They are not monsters, Sir Carean.” Sera said frostily, but her eyes were flashing. “They are human, just like you and me.”

Carean sneered. “Have you seen them fight, my lady? Those…things are not human. They’re monsters! There was good reason they were all culled ten years ago. They should never have been made in the first place.”

Sera scowled. “You—”

“Sera! Sir Carean,” Avaris sighed. It seemed like the knight was more hot-tempered than he had thought, to be goaded by Seraphel to this extent. He wasn’t sure whether he should laugh or not. Sera is still Sera with her recklessness. “Please, calm down.”

With a carefully composed face, Seraphel raised an eyebrow and shot a cool look at him, as if asking silently “Who’s not calm?”

Carean’s face darkened. He knuckled his forehead and muttered, “Pardon, Your Highness.” But the knight’s tone was hardly repentant. Carean shot Sera a hard look. “But having an uncollared basda so near is too dangerous. Not to mention one that is armed. His Majesty has charged me with your safety, Your Highness, and I cannot allow this.”

“Raen will harm no one. I trust him,” Sera said firmly. When Carean opened his mouth, obviously ready to continue his protest, she rushed on. “Plus, he has also taken a Soul Oath in the Temple of the Goddess. He will not kill unless I order it.”

Hearing this, Carean’s scowl eased, but Havein yelled, “An oath? How will a cursed oath keep him from killing?”

Sera glared at the physician. “Not just any oath,” she said indignantly. “A Soul Oath is the greatest Oath mediated by the Holy Priestesses of the Goddess, unbreakable save at the price of death.”

“Even so,” Carean said warily. “What proof do you have that he won’t be willing to sacrifice his life to break the oath?”

Sera hesitated. “I—”

 “Seraphel!” an exasperated voice from the direction that Raen had left. Two riders trotted towards them from between the trees, followed by Raen who loped astride the horses, leading a tall gray stallion behind him. Vernad, a tall man with dark, short-cropped hair and light green eyes, rode his gray stallion over to where Seraphel stood. He wore a simple leather jerkin and a black, hooded cloak over black mail, and a sword hung at his waist. He bowed his head to Carean and Avaris in greeting. “Sir Carean. Your Highness. My apologies,” he said. He looked at Seraphel and sighed. “Seraphel, did I not tell you not to run off alone?”

Sera quickly regained her usual demeanor. She smiled and said innocently, “I wasn’t alone. Raen was with me.”

“My lady,” Rhea said breathlessly. Many locks of her light brown hair had escaped from the neat bun at the nape of her neck. She wore a dark brown dress that went up to her neck and was split for traveling, and a satchel hung at her waist beside a dagger. She sighed. “There are wild beasts here. Please be more careful."

Vernad shook his head and turned back to Carean, who looked far from pleased. “Sir Carean, my lady Seraphel is currently traveling to the Convent and wishes to travel with His Highness for part of the route. There is no need to particularly provide for us since we have brought our own supplies. Also, the area here is particularly dangerous, so having more people would make for safer traveling. Would it be acceptable for us to accompany you?”

The knight’s lips thinned, dark eyes unreadable. Avaris could understand his difficulty. They could not afford wasting time traveling back simply to ensure Seraphel’s safe return, but Carean did not want to have to decrease the numbers of soldiers with them unless necessary. Not to mention, although there was still the possibility of a threat, a basda that has been bound with a Soul Oath would be a great asset as a fighter, and Vernad had been the royal master-in-arms before he had volunteered to become the princess’ guard. But in return, they would have to protect two women, who would only be a burden, the knight was probably thinking. Avaris wondered whether he should mention that Seraphel was a better hand at a sword than he was by far.

Finally, Carean just grunted and growled, “Do as you wish. But we’ve wasted enough time here. We leave now.” He gave Raen a last hard look before he kicked his destrier onward. The other soldiers exchanged glances and lowered their bows, but they looked at Raen askance and kept as far away from him as they could as they moved onwards. Vernad knuckled his forehead and muttered a “Yes sire” before kneeing his own stallion forward to join the line of soldiers, and Sera grinned, sending Avaris a triumphant look before vaulting into a saddle. Rhea had settled into a position behind Sera and Avaris, and Raen loped easily three paces from Sera’s side. Everyone had begun moving, except for the doctor’s short chestnut horse.

“Traveling with an uncollared basda! Armed with a sword!” Havein shrieked shrilly. “Oath or no oath he’s still too dangerous!” Raen just looked at him, but Havein turned away, shivering when he met those dead eyes. He wheezed in hoarse laughter and tried to turn his horse. “I’m going back. This is insane!”

Carean did not stop, only looked over his shoulder with a flat gaze. “Then go,” he said coolly. “But go alone. There are bandits and beasts in this area, and I will not spare a single man to protect a coward.” He frowned at Raen for a moment, but then the knight turned and continued on without a backward glance.

Havein was left with his eyes bulging, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. Seeing that all the other soldiers really were moving on without him, he looked back uneasily to the road they had come and paled, licking his lips nervously. At the end, the physician could only kick his horse forward as well, muttering to himself the whole time. He kept farther to the back of the guard than before, as far away from Raen as possible, and cast uneasy glances his way, pudgy hands never leaving the hilt of his sword—as if a sword he barely knew how to use would be any use against a basda who was deadlier than ten armed and mounted men combined.

Avaris studied Raen, who loped along easily beside Seraphel. The young basda seemed around the same age as they were, but he gave off a feeling of danger, like that of a rabid wolf at bay. Outwardly, however, he appeared completely human—if it weren’t for those empty eyes. Will a Soul Oath really be enough to control someone like him? To uncollar a basda and let him enter her service was definitely something that even he could not help but feel uneasy about, no matter how much he trusted her. And there was that tragic bellsong. He could not help but be wary.