5.

  Faelwen

  A sudden noise jolted me awake, a thump at the door. Artemis was already on alert, sniffing the air, fur bristling. He dropped into a low, defensive stance, a growl rumbling in his chest.

  Quiet! I urged him. He stilled but remained ready. Another thump followed, louder this time, and then came a whisper, “We have the key. Let us through.”

  Panic jolted through me. Without thinking, I shoved a heavy chest against the door and dressed as quickly as I could.

  “I believe we awakened her.” One of the persons on the other side of the door spoke quietly. They were quiet for a moment and so was I. But then I heard the key turn in the lock.

  Artemis clawed at the window, and I pushed it open.

  “Out,” I whispered. He leaped, landing on a haystack below. I glanced back in time to see a man forcing his way through the partially blocked door, his face masked, clothes bearing the emblem of a Hunter. He spotted me just as I perched on the window ledge.

  “You little…” not waiting to hear the rest, I jumped, landing beside Artemis, and together we bolted toward the stables.

  I grabbed a saddle, and reins, quickly readying a sturdy horse. The horse snorted once seeing Artemis, then settled, as if it had known stranger cargo before. I secured a saddlebag big enough for Artemis. Luckily, he was small enough to fit in there. Then climbed onto the horse and nudged it into a gallop, Artemis safely tucked in the bag.

  “Run,” I whispered. “As if death is chasing you.”

  As if he understood the meaning of what I said, he stretched his neck and shot away like an arrow from a bow.

  As we charged out of the barn, a group of Hunters gave chase, shouting and readying crossbows. Artemis continually complained over his situation, claiming he could run as fast as a horse.

  Ignoring him, I urged the horse faster, crouching low to make myself a smaller target. Arrows whizzed by, narrowly missing us.

  So they wanted us dead or alive, got it. One of the arrows whizzed close to Artemis' head. He whimpered and growled his thoughts in my mind, faster, beast! Faster!

  The horse, as if understanding the panic of both riders, surged forward, hooves pounding furiously as we tore across the open fields. I had no idea which way we were running.

  The night was clouded and dark. At some point the Hunters fell behind, and their arrows grew fewer and farther between, but I knew we had no choice but to keep running, even as dawn began to light the sky.

  After what felt like hours of hard riding, we finally left the Hunters behind us. An old barn rose up from the horizon. The horse, exhausted, slowed to a trot.

  Inside, we found hay, enough for a brief rest. Artemis settled by the door, watchful, while I stroked the horse’s neck in thanks.

  “You ran like the wind, my friend,” I whispered, feeling gratitude for the swift animal. The animal snorted in thanks and pushed his nose against my cheek.

  Artemis spoke in my mind, one of us should keep watch.

  I agreed, setting a hand on his fur in silent appreciation. Soon, I was fast asleep, trusting him to guard us. For now, we were safe.

  ? ? ?

  The watch was quiet when I relieved Artemis. Even our horse lay slumbering on the ground, his sides rising and falling in rhythm with the stillness around us.

  I settled into a shadowed nook by the barn door, watching as the sun slipped beneath the western horizon. My eyes grew heavy, and though I fought the pull of sleep, it claimed me.

  The faint echo of hoofbeats in the distance awoke me from my slumber. At first, I thought it was a trick of the mind, but as they grew louder, my heart clenched.

  I shook Artemis awake and hurriedly saddled the horse.

  “They’ve found our trail.”

  Artemis hissed in response, his voice laced with fear. We have to move now!

  Dawn painted the sky a muted grey as we fled the broken barn. The clouds above were thick and heavy with the promise of rain.

  We trotted away from our hiding place, and after a quick glance at my map and compass, I adjusted our course slightly eastward.

  Artemis refused to ride in the saddlebag this time, instead darting alongside the horse.

  “Get in the bag!” I urged, the urgency clear in my voice. “It’s a long run!”

  No! he snapped, his ears flat. I might be small, but I’m still a wolf, not a pet!

  “Sure, you are,” I muttered under my breath, irritated and thinking of all the times he wished for a warm fireplace, belly scratches and a hot meal.

  I can hear you, he grumbled, quickening his pace as I nudged the horse to run faster.

  “Good,” I responded.

  The sound of hoofbeats grew louder and looking over my shoulder I saw the Hunters had caught up with us. Soon the chase was on, adrenaline surging through my veins. I urged the horse to move faster.

  Two Hunters closed in from the left, two more from the right, crossbows drawn and aimed at me. I flattened myself against the horse’s neck, arrows whizzing past, some grazing so close I could feel the rush of air as they flew by. My heart quickened.

  Steering the horse through a ditch and across a field, scattering the Hunters, leaving startled farmers and open-mouthed bystanders in our wake.

  As the sun climbed higher, the hunters refused to relent. We reached a dense forest, and I maneuvered the horse skilfully between the trees, momentarily losing our pursuers. But as soon as we emerged into open grasslands, two hunters caught up again.

  Artemis launched himself at one, his jaws tearing into flesh as the man cried out in pain, swatting uselessly at the wolf before falling behind. The other hunter, though, kept pace, bumping into me, trying to throw me off balance.

  Ahead, the crossroad split toward every region of the Ancestral lands—and straight into Westray itself, the grand city of the Ancestral Region. The clamour of voices, carts and horses filled the air.

  We pressed on, but just as we neared the crowd, the hunter reached over, grabbing my tunic and yanked me from the saddle.

  My horse bolted, and I hit the ground hard, the impact knocking the wind from my lungs. The hunter jumped off his horse next to me.

  Artemis leaped over me and was on the hunter in an instant, forcing him back with snapping jaws. I scrambled to my feet, gripped my sword, and struck the man with the pommel on the side of his head. His eyes rolled back, and he slumped to the ground. But there was no time to rest. The other Hunters were closing in, their shouts growing louder.

  “Into the crowd!” I ordered Artemis, and we plunged into the throng at the crossroad, slipping and weaving between bodies.

  The world around us suddenly was a chaotic mess of sounds and smells, every sense dulled by the sheer intensity. People cursed, horses whinnied, and voices blended into a cacophony as Artemis and I pushed through, fighting to stay out of sight.

  When the Hunters shouted for the crowd to make way, I ducked into a group of minstrels moving toward the city walls. Artemis hid beneath a cart.

  I felt suffocated in the mess of people. Getting into the group was easy, freeing yourself from it wasn’t. Artemis and I were pushed forward towards the castle walls.

  “There! Between the minstrels! Get her!” I heard one of them yell. The minstrels shockingly parted aside when they understood the Hunters wanted me.

  I darted off towards the castle walls, the only way to disappear in the crowd again. I made my way through a group of merchants, hid behind a cart for a moment, until I saw a group of monks walk by. I pulled my cloak closer around me, hiding my face and blended myself into the group.

  With the Hunters still searching, we reached the gates of Westray, towering above us with massive oak doors bound in iron and a portcullis poised overhead.

  We’re heading towards the gate! I heard Artemis' voice in my mind.

  No time to turn around now, I send my thoughts back to him. The gates loomed over us, guards stood vigilant, weapons at the ready.

  “Check everyone at the gate! No one enters or leaves this city without me knowing about it!” I heard one of the Hunters say to the guards. I kept my head low, sticking close to the monks as they passed through the gate unchallenged.

  The moment we walked underneath the gate, you could see the complicated mechanism that could seal this gate. On the wall archers marched. The guards who were ordered to check every passenger, looked at us. I lowered my head and walked closer to the group of monks.

  Behind me, the guards stopped the cart where Artemis had hidden himself. Somehow, he avoided detection, and we slipped inside the city undetected.

  Inside Westray, the sight was overwhelming. I had heard tales of its splendour; white stone buildings capped with blue roofs, grand streets lined with merchants’ wares, and the sprawl of districts stretching from the lower-class outskirts to the opulent central city.

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Barnabas had described it all, and here it was, larger and more magnificent than I’d imagined. A big wall protected the city and along the wall houses were built. The harbour of Westray was the most important trading place. Further up north was the Kings’ castle. The most impressive building of all, surrounded by beautiful green gardens.

  But there was no time to marvel. Three armed men were moving toward the gate. Everybody avoided eye contact with these men and jumped aside making way.

  I recognized their white silver armour and the insignia of a black eagle rising up in the sky holding a white arrow on their chests.

  They wore white cloaks traced in silver, faces hidden behind winged helms with no mouths, only hollow black eyes. They bore weapons at their sides; sword, crossbow, twin knives.

  These were the king’s guards, the Silver Soldiers. They were relentless, feared across the region for their skill and ruthlessness, trained from childhood, chosen by means no one fully understood. The first high king, Talron, started training the soldiers when he feared to be attacked by mages.

  I suppressed a shiver. I knew well enough that to cross them was to court death. One of the Hunters approached the Silver Soldiers and told him something.

  The soldier with a massive sword strapped to his back scanned the crowd. Our eyes clashed and my heart stopped.

  “Stop in the name of High King Edmund!”.

  I bolted. Artemis was close at my side as we darted from alley to alley, my heart pounding in my chest. The Silver Soldiers at our heels. Running through the labyrinth of streets and alleys we managed to lose them. I stopped in an alley, trying to catch my breath.

  “Think we lost them, buddy?” I wheezed. Artemis panting next to me nodded.

  “Great. Now let’s find a place to sleep.”

  That was easier said than done. I had lost track of where we were. After searching for a bit we stumbled into a quiet, dimly lit tavern. A place to rest.

  I slipped inside, and Artemis followed. The air was thick with smoke and whispers. A fire crackled in the corner. An old man with a stained apron eyed me suspiciously.

  “What can I get you, little miss?” he rasped, his breath foul.

  I chose my words carefully. Barnabas had warned me once that certain phrases meant more than they seemed in cities like this—but I was too tired, too hunted, to think clearly.

  “Shelter from the storm like a room or something,” I replied. The moment the words left my mouth, I felt it. A shift. The barman’s eyes flicked toward the corner, just for a heartbeat. He gestured to a corner table and I took a seat.

  Artemis curled at my feet, keeping a watchful glare. Some people in the room looked a bit taken aback by the wolf and started whispering among themselves. I ignored them. The barman gave me something to eat and drink and I gratefully dug in, giving bits and pieces to Artemis underneath the table.

  The soft conversation started again, filling the room with soft whispers. I let my gaze wander over the place. The fireplace, the small, wax covered tables and the shelves filled with liquor bottles. I let myself relax, losing the tension in my shoulders.

  Suddenly, a man with a hooded cloak slid into the seat across from me. Artemis growled quietly, but the man seemed unfazed.

  He wore dark, practical clothing, his hands rough and blackened at the nails. His mouth curved in a small grin. I couldn’t see what kind of weapons he was wearing, if he was wearing any. He laid his hands on the table and leaned a little forward. Licking his lips before he spoke.

  “So,” he said, his voice laced with a foreign accent, probably from the west somewhere beyond the sea, “You’re seeking shelter?”

  “Who are you?” I asked confused, keeping my voice as steady as I could. I was surprised a random man would be bold enough to sit across from me and make conversation. He grinned.

  “Names are unnecessary, little fox. The question is why the Silver Soldiers are after you.”

  I stiffened.

  “What makes you think that?”

  He leaned back, his grin widening.

  “I have my ways. I’ve been told the Silver Soldiers are looking for a girl with pointy ears and a wolf. And here you are.”

  I instinctively touched my ear, betraying myself. His smile deepened.

  “You’re new to Westray, I gather. So, what did you do to have the king’s soldiers on your heels?”

  Artemis bristled beside me, but I calmed him with a touch.

  “It doesn’t matter,” I said quietly. “What matters is finding a way out without harming anyone.”

  The stranger tilted his head, a glint of amusement in his eyes.

  “I can offer you that,” he said. “But it comes at a price.”

  “Why would you help me?”

  He leaned closer, his tone low and mocking.

  “You asked for my help the moment you spoke to the barman. ‘Shelter from the storm’ isn’t just a phrase… it’s a code.”

  I tensed, realizing too late what I’d said to the barman.

  “You’re with the Black Hawks?”

  He smirked. “Very good. We can keep you hidden, but you’ll owe us.”

  His face softened, the grin fading.

  “A small favour, in exchange for safe passage. Does that sound fair?”

  I hesitated, knowing the Black Hawks were a notorious thieves’ guild with a complex network of alliances, enforcers and spies. Hawkeye the most skilled thief in the guild, Deathrose a master spy, and the infamous Basilisk. A snake among snakes. The most wanted assassin of this kingdom. He was known for his cruel murders that often looked like suicide. He loved to play with his victims.

  The story goes that he would leave three play cards behind on a place where only the victim would find them. The first card would be a random number, the second card would be the jack and the third was a self-made card with a skull and a knife sticking out of it.

  A Silver Soldier walked by the window and a shiver ran down my spine. The man in front of me noticed and smiled.

  I didn’t want anything to do with the Black Hawks. But now, cornered and hunted by the notorious Silver Soldiers and the Hunters, I needed allies, even these shadowed ones. Reluctantly, I nodded.

  “All right. What’s the price?”

  His grin returned, sharp and knowing. “We’ll let you know when the time is right, little fox. For now, just follow me.”

  As swiftly as a fox, he rose to his feet and strode toward the stairs leading up to the bedrooms of the small inn. Artemis and I followed closely behind, moving as quietly as we could.

  The people in the tavern barely took notice of us, but their conversations and laughter echoed around the room as if nothing unusual was happening. Perhaps they were all somehow connected to the thieves’ guild, I thought, keeping my gaze fixed on the young stranger ahead.

  Without a word, he crouched under the stairs, pushing aside a heavy chest to reveal a hidden lever embedded within the wall. Before I could even form a question, he shot me an angry glare from beneath his hood, pressing a finger to his lips.

  I fell silent, feeling his gaze pierce through the shadows as he yanked down the lever. There was a soft click, and I looked down to see a stone slab lifting slightly from the floor. The stranger pried open the slab, revealing a gaping hole that descended into pitch blackness.

  “Jump in,” he whispered sharply in my ear. My heart pounded as I took a steadying breath, forcing down my fear. The darkness seemed to beckon, like an open mouth ready to swallow me whole.

  Artemis stepped forward, his body tense as he jumped into the void below. I heard the faint splash of water, followed by his reassuring voice in my mind: it’s safe, just wet.

  Grateful for his presence, I followed, dropping down into the cold darkness. The stranger came swiftly after, pausing only to pull a concealed ladder from the shadows and replace the stone slab above us. The last glimmer of light vanished, and we were left in total darkness.

  My breath quickened, panic flaring in my chest, but a soft glow emerged as the young man struck a match and lit a candle casting a faint light around us. We stood in an underground tunnel, the stone walls slick with moss, glistening from water seeping in from unseen currents. The air was damp and heavy.

  Artemis nudged me gently, bringing me back to reality, and we began to follow the young man as he led us further into the darkened passageways. A strange calm radiated from Artemis, too steady for the tension around us. He knew something, I could feel it.

  “What is this place?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper. Without turning, he answered, “This—little fox—is an underground city. These corridors once lay above ground, but a great earthquake centuries ago buried the city. We’ve reinforced the tunnels over time, making them stable enough to walk through.”

  He held the candle close to the walls, illuminating faded symbols and intricate carvings, some of which were eerily familiar. For a heartbeat, the carvings reminded me of the way the runes from my mother’s music box used to glow when she held it. I traced the engravings with my fingertips, feeling the beauty of the old stone marred by cracks and patches of newer materials.

  “You’ll be even more amazed when we reach the city,” he murmured. We walked for what felt like hours, winding through endless tunnels. Without him, I’d have been hopelessly lost in the maze of identical passages.

  Each turn felt the same, the walls covered in worn carvings, their stories obscured by moss and grime. Questions stirred in my mind about the creatures that must have once lived here. Creatures not human, surely, for these carvings held a beauty and mystery beyond human craftsmanship.

  The candle had burned down to a stub, and my stomach clenched as I realized we were about to be plunged into darkness again.

  “Do you have another candle?” I asked, fumbling through my bag for one of my own, but I found nothing. I must have lost it in the rush to leave.

  “This is the last one,” he replied, his voice edged with frustration. “I misjudged the distance. We should’ve reached the upper tunnels by now.”

  My heart sank. “We’re lost?”

  “We’re not lost,” he replied, though the uncertainty in his voice betrayed him. “There are no maps of this place. You learn these tunnels by heart, but in the dark, distance lies.”

  As the candle flame flickered its last, he instructed me to put my hand on the wall and follow the sound of his footsteps. He seemed to pretend he knew the way, but in the last flickering light of the candle I saw uncertainty painted in his eyes. I did as I was told, feeling the cold stone under my palm.

  Suddenly, to my amazement, the carvings on the wall began to glow, the patterns lighting up with a cold, silvery light that stretched as far as I could see.

  The young man looked at me, his face illuminated in the ghostly glow. He pulled back his hood, and for the first time, I saw him clearly.

  His blue eyes burned bright against the strange light, the scar on his cheek a stark reminder of a past battle. He was young, perhaps my age, but with a hardened expression that spoke of countless trials. His shock mirrored my own, his voice low and laced with suspicion.

  “What did you do, little fox?”

  “I… I don’t know,” I stammered, my own voice uncertain. I yanked my hand back on instinct and we were plunged into darkness again.

  “Don’t… Don’t play games with me,” he said, his voice tight with fear.

  “I’m telling the truth, I have no idea!” I said my voice breaking despite myself as he glared at me. After a tense silence, he ordered, “Do it again.”

  My hand trembled as I placed it back on the wall, and once more, the carvings flared to life. The young man drew his hood up, his expression unreadable.

  “Keep your hand on the wall,” he said tightly, glancing at Artemis, who seemed strangely calm.

  Do you know of this, Buddy? I send my question to Artemis.

  I only know that these streets, and probably this city where we’re heading too, once belonged to the elves, he answered in my mind. His tone was too casual. It told me he knew more than he let on, but right now might not be the time to confront him with that.

  The silence stretched on as we walked, the illuminated walls casting a haunting glow around us. The young man eventually admitted that he’d lost track of where we were. Fatigue gnawed at my bones, and I could hear the quiet rumble of my own hunger.

  I stared at a small pool of water trickling slowly downhill, pondering the city’s location.

  “Where is the city?” I asked. “Upward… or deeper still?”

  “Up. Almost all the tunnels lead that way,” he replied. But I felt an odd certainty rising within me, drawn to the carvings as if they were speaking.

  Buddy, how will we ever find that city?

  Unintentionally, I pushed the thought towards the wall. And in response I heard one word bouncing through my head; Cárassea.

  It resonated, reverberating through my mind and appearing on the walls in runic letters, elvish – at least according to Artemis – glowing softly. I saw the young man look at the wall.

  “What does it mean?” he asked, eyes narrowing.

  It means city, hearing Artemis' voice in my mind. A memory of my mother speaking this language surfaced, and a chill of recognition washed over me. The young man stared at the glowing word.

  “City,” I whispered.

  “What are you whispering, little fox?” the young man asked, his eyes flicking between my face and the runic letters on the wall.

  “A word is spelled here, Cárassea. It means city in elvish,” I responded. The young man stared at the glowing word.

  “This city was once called Armenelos,” he murmured, “the city of starlight. A human mage’s note said it was indeed once an elven city buried long ago by a catastrophe. The humans took their chance, claiming the land for themselves, forcing the elves to leave.”

  His story aligned with my mother’s tales of long-lost elven cities, their names faded from memory. I spoke softly, “I always hoped those stories were real.”

  A glimmer of understanding passed between us, a silent agreement about the cruelty of our kind. I placed my hand on the wall again, feeling the strength of the words within it.

  Show us Armenelos, please. I thought, and heard a chorus of whispers responding, guiding us forward: to Armenelos, straight on, follow us…

  I grinned, turning to the young man and Artemis.

  “The wall is showing us the way!” We moved quickly now, the path illuminated by the strange, silvery light. At last, the whispers faded, and the young man’s voice broke the silence.

  “Welcome to Armenelos, the city of starlight.”

  I let my hand drop, expecting darkness to surround us, but the city ahead was alight, thousands of torches casting a soft glow that sparkled like stars against the ancient stone. The city stretched before us, a realm reborn from myth, hidden beneath the ground yet full of life and wonder. We had arrived.