Chapter Three
The Euchoun
In the stillness of the night we waited, my eyes glued to the clear sky with only the stars’ glitter littering the heavens. I wondered vaguely if all our concern was for naught. It had been six nights without any sign of danger. My eyes caught Falco’s while Turstan stood by the door, listening intently for any sound or noise to alert him of a potential threat. The once massive intimidating warrior held tight to his freshly sharpened sword’s grip.
Most nights the hearth burned brightly with an open fire. Not this night. The shutters were closed outside the windows and the curtains drawn until all inside became dark. And thus we sat within the shadows, waiting for an unknown threat. For six nights Turstan’s reprimand echoed within me.
“You said King Gregorius de Folur, King of Brixtone!” Turstan exploded at me. His pitted, scarred face covered by his long heavy beard, softened most times by his kind eyes, now remained grave and attentive. Falco warned me not to say words but to let the burly warrior unleash his fury. “I don’t know one that would be worse!”
“I don’t think it’s as bad as you make it out to be,” I said defensively, having already endured Gunilda’s wrath. “The band didn’t….”
Turstan cut me short. His temper, his worry abounded.
“What can we do but make a stand?” Turstan exclaimed upon looking down at Sareta, who lay listless within her bed. “You both know well the cost of being discovered. Have we not well instilled within you the need?”
“In truth, Turstan. But it was not our fault. Falco didn’t mean to run into the party. And the prince…how could he have known who we are? I had to be mistaken. No one knows we live.”
“Rumors exist. This we know, Kela. Prophecies foretold are not forgotten,” Turstan muttered.
“Kela! How naive you are! Once suspected, they will use the Hallow Minions to smell out the magic! Sareta! We have to protect her. She is our only hope,” Gunilda responded, wringing her dry wrinkled hands together. “Sordarins!”
“I won’t let anyone harm, my sister, Gunilda. I am a protector, Gunilda.”
“You are a child!” she squelched. Turning her back on me, she leaned back over Sareta. I quieted.
The love for my family encompassed me, more than my own life. If I have done anything to do harm! The thought gave me pause. But, I reasoned, it was merely a simple fog she had brought in to cover their escape. Had she not moved houses? Supplied all with the needs they had?
At most times, Turstan would have rushed to our defense when Gunilda ranted about the vices of Sordarins, but on this I saw only worry in his eyes. He stood now with his head looking toward the heavens.
To my horror, water welled in my eyes. Had I disappointed all? I loved my guardian as the father I had lost that fateful day. For well over eight years, he kept well to his oath he had given my mother. Unfamiliar with upbringing of three small children, he had lamented his fate often.
“This is no job for a warrior! By all in heavin! I have been saddled with a weight that would bring down a lesser man!”
Though, through the years Falco and I cared for Turstan at moments when he had given into his weakness.
“A real man has needs, by Gotty!” he contended while he drank his ale. His thirst lay evident with the empty beakers on the rickety old table. At times he would disappear for days, but had always returned to us.
Gunilda would preach upon the lack of morals of a Sordarin warrior. In truth, I understand naught of all of she ranted about, but I knew only the need we had for the broken warrior.
Falco had told me more than once that most warriors would have taken this task as an insult, but Turstan stood by us. I understood well that he had a morbid fear for our safety and even though he would never admit it, he cared deeply for us charges. Turstan became a man possessed when it came to defending us siblings.
Tonight while I stood and waited, my thoughts turned to the fate of our family. In all, there was much confusion. My father, Prince Mithelk Calledwdele of Sordarin, had been first in line to the throne. Scarladin, land of prosperity, of fertile lands and mighty rivers, was the land where hawkmen ruled.
Turstan’s words affirmed our legacy. “When you look up and see the regiment soar the skies, all is well. No one dare threaten a Sordarin!”
But they had, I thought. Someone had ambushed my father and killed him. My mother! Oh, how I still missed her. When I smelled the fragrance of the first spring flowers, my beautiful mother’s face emerged in my mind: the smile, her eyes, the love she held for all. She herself was the descendant from the great line of Flandigana within the boundary of Witheleghe, a place most thought only a legend; in truth, a place where magical beings dwelled.
I, myself, was born strongly Sordarin. In that, I couldn’t deny.
“Your destiny is easiest to define, Kela,” Turstan talked during one night of his drinking spells. “Ah, the princess warrior born to protect. Protect the young prince. Protect your sister. Caught within the middle for the others to fulfill their destiny. Much as myself. Essential, yet thankless.”
Previously when danger had to be faced, we woke in a new place, a new home. But Sareta had neither the strength nor the will. She shook her small head, lying quietly in her bed. Olaf, our mongrel of a dog, had curled up by Sareta and refused to leave her side.
“She says we need not run any more. It is time,” Falco said to Turstan, who felt the need to take off once more. But it was not meant to be. Turstan had always said there were moments in life where one could not run from the past. So our running ceased.
Suddenly we heard what we had been dreading: a clamor in the distance. Sounds drew nearer. They were coming. Falco jumped up and looked out the window. I could feel my heart pounding, fearing it could be heard by all. My chest heaved with effort on each breath. Glancing around my home, I was torn by which side to stand, my sister’s or the men. Gunilda stood by Sareta’s door, pale and clammy. So I placed myself firmly between all. A loud fluttering sound rose from overhead.
Turstan’s ears alert to the sound. “Sordarins!” he exclaimed. “I would know the sound anywhere.”
What did Turstan mean Sordarins? Friend or foe? Were we not expecting Brixtone’s warriors? But I had no time to contemplate. Nervously, I gazed down the hall. Gunilda had her arm around Sareta, who had risen from her bed and stood silently with Olaf by her side. Frightened, she met my eyes.
Within me, my instincts reacted. For the last few years Turstan had trained Falco in the ways of our people, the only way he knew; taught from a young age, the techniques were used for centuries to defend their country. In this, I recognized that Sordarins were an aggressive people when it came to protecting their territory. Turstan hadn't hesitated to teach me alongside Falco, for I was a Euchoun.
Euchouns, protectors for the warriors of Sordarins, were called upon only on the most pressing of times.
"Legend holds the Great One sends only when the need arises. In this, we must hold. You must train, for the time will come when you will have to fight. It is your destiny," he explained. "Although, Kela, I have never known one to be female. I don't know how you will do such upon the ground, but then again I have never heard of one with your strength at such a young age."
My mind raced. Sareta had said it was time. Time for what? Turstan hadn't known. Sordarins were our people or, at least, our father's people. Had they come in peace to bring us home or were they trying to do us harm? My parents had been betrayed by other Sordarins. That I realized, as did Turstan. Was that not the main reason he hadn't searched for a way within Scarladin? He had been betrayed, also.
Ominous, I heard thumps upon the roof. Clear voices rose and fell. They alit all around. I eyed Turstan when the locked door rattled. Outside, commands resounded. All of a sudden, the roof shook. From the sound, I held no doubt it was being ripped apart. The door rammed once. Turstan pushed against it. Without another thought, I raised my arm, surroun
ding my young sister and Gunilda with my shield. I moved closer beside my brother, while he raised his sword. Olaf barked madly, circling around us.
Screeches emerged louder in the loft. My fear became my reality. They were in. The door again banged. I looked upward. With a wave of my arm, the Sordarins that had landed upon the roof were thrust back with such a force that they landed within the pasture. My other hand motioned toward the door, pushing the door back, taking with it all around.
Abruptly, I felt strong hands grasp my arms, bringing them down roughly to my side. Struggling violently to free myself, fear surged within me. In the distance voices spoke, but I understood none, for all I could see was a cloud of warriors descending upon my family. Falco swung his sword while he pushed Sareta back away from the assailants. His sword clanged against another. Turstan grabbed Sareta with one hand and held his sword with his other.
Trying vainly to wrench myself free, my eyes lay intent upon all. Panic swept through me. All I could think of was protecting my own. The dark shadows of the night cast an eerie glow to the forms. My panic grew. The Sordarin tightened his hold on me, pulling me back against his armored chest. Immediately, I felt a surge of power. In the next instant a wave of light shot forth from my eyes, fluctuating around the small group, exploding with such force that I was thrown backwards with the Sordarin who held me. A moment later, around me I saw debris floating downward toward the ground.
I was freed! Scrambling back up to my feet, I stood, but could not move. All around where the house once stood now seemed a battlefield. I took in the awe of the sight.
"The dewill be hang and drawl!" the Sordarin cursed under his breath, regaining his footing. He reached toward me, catching my arm.
Stunned, I turned and stared at the Sordarin, a young dark warrior. Tall, broad wings flexed to ensure they still worked; his dark bold eyes met mine. His hair hung long upon his shoulders. His face was stern and keen. His chest was covered with a painted shield, with his long sword secured at his belt.
"Don't look at me as such! Look upon the damage you have done!" he cried.
Turstan rushed to my side, jerking me out of the warrior's arms. If I wasn't mistaken, I swore he had the look of pride upon his face. Falco stood, his arm surrounding Sareta, but his face plastered with a broad grin. Around them the remains of the house we once called home lay in pieces.
Slowly in the dim light of the night, movement began from the ground. Sordarins began to straighten up, flexing broadly their massive wings. Frightened, I glanced up at Turstan. He swung me back with Falco and Sareta. Falling to my knees, I grabbed hold of Sareta and buried my face into hers. I could feel Sareta gently pat my back. The fear within my sister had dissipated, but the whole of my body began trembling uncontrollably. I tried desperately to stand, but when I did, my head spun. Everything went black.
Movement woke me. I felt air beneath me and wind in my face. My eyes opened, but I needed time to focus. Strong arms held me. Someone whispered in my ear to remain calm, pleaded in reality for me to do so. Gripping tightly to the arms that held me, I realized I was flying. Glancing upward, I gradually recognized the warrior who had held me before the explosion. Falco spoke within my mind, soothing me, allaying my fears.
Sister, all is well. We are beside you. Sleep. Sareta’s with Turstan, flying in front of you and I’m flying on a fleogan ahead of all. We are going home. Home! Sareta was right. It was time.
My head hurt. Staring at the young warrior, he looked down upon me. A slight smile formed. "You aren't going to cause anymore devastation, I hope. We are flying high and the fall would be a long one."
Looking down, my hands dug into his arms. From the sky, I stared down upon the ground of shadows in the early morning light. Trees and fields could be made out clearly. We flew high above the Kampar River, using it as a guide. The air so crisp, I gasped. His arms tightened around me. I clasped my arms around his neck.
"Have no worries, little one," he whispered. "I won't let you fall."
Surprisingly, I took comfort in his words and closed my eyes once more. To my surprise, I fell back into slumber.