Now, this one isn't finished yet. Here's what's done so far, I'll update it when it's complete. ^_^

For every hero that succeeds in their quest, there are at least three others who try, and fail. Those are not good odds.

Prologue

The western continent of the world Alye was divided into six kingdoms. The first founded was Larsha, then Shafrit, Rithar, Arkel, Keldyan and finally Dyanlar.

The six kingdoms remained at peace for half a century as the six brothers who had created them remained friends. However, once the second generation had passed away, relationships between the kings began to fracture. Fights broke out along the borders. Things grew worse and the kingdoms quickly found themselves spiralling into war.

Peace skittered between the kingdoms like a nervous rabbit, fleeing from the advancing armies as they clashed. Borders swung back and forth in the centuries that followed, and at one point Larsha was swallowed up in a dual attack from Keldyan and Shafrit. A decade or so later, it re-emerged, and the old balance between the kingdoms was restored. Finally, almost a thousand years after the continent had been divided first, the six kingdoms were forced to unite.

A new power rose, stronger than anything since the beginning of natural history. The warring nations, in the face of this new threat, realised they had but two choices: unite, or fall.

18 months

It was a dark and stormy night. The weather had good timing, a man thought. Lightning flashed, and almost at the same time came the roll of thunder. The rain poured down, soaking him to the skin as he strode along the rough path. Suddenly, he turned aside from the track, almost completely at random. After another minute or two of walking, as he reached the top of a small rise, lightning flashed again, lighting up the landscape in front of him. It was bleak, and desolate. Long, mostly dead grasses bent over under the onslaught of wind and rain. Sheep and cattle would not graze here, and no sane men came near the place. It was haunted land, the rumours muttered. Best left to the faeries and Elves. Tales whispered darkly about sprites stealing people away, hiding them for thousands of years, so they returned to find everything they knew was gone. It was a terrible place. It was feared, shunned. It was dark and forbidding. It was perfect. He stopped walking by what he supposed had once been a hare’s burrow – a small indent in the ground, near the base of the hill. The bottom of it was already a muddy sludge as he removed a small, thinly wrapped bundle from where he had been holding it inside his coat. Lightning tore the sky in two again, as he stooped to place the bundle in the hare’s den. He stood once more, and wiped his hands on his coat.

“Now, we shall see.”

He strode away again, without a backward glance, and a thousand eyes watched him go. The girl child he left behind coughed, and clutched at the already soaked blanket for protection. She was cold, and wet. She sneezed and began to cry.

6 years

Naaret crouched behind the bushes, watching the girl draw nearer. From where she was hiding, she could easily see every single one of the others. They were in such obvious places. But the girl walked right past Iskret, who had disguised himself as a rock. He was good at that spell. The girl spun around, becoming frustrated, and Naaret sent a fly to tickle her eyelids when she blinked. This infuriated her, although she could not swat it. Bored after only a few minutes of playing, the faeries showed themselves, and danced forwards. Naaret called the fly off, and smirked at the girl as the others danced around her, chanting and laughing.

“Couldn’t see us?”

“Can’t find us?”

“Silly mortal girl!”

“Couldn’t spot us?”

“Can’t catch us!”

“Don’t even have a faerie name!”

The girl pouted. “Do so! I’m Stella, and Elinor!”

The young faeries thought of the meanings quickly, trying to beat each other to it.

“Star?”

“Bright one?”

Naaret sniffed, and stated, “Not faerie names!”

“Then I’m Eryl, and Marcia, and Leocadia!”

“Watcher!”

“Warlike!”

“Lion!”

Naaret shook her head. “Not faerie names!”

“I’m Kendra, and Nerys, and Elrica!”

“Wise one!”

“Ruler!”

“All powerful!”

Naaret smiled smugly, taunting, “Not faerie names!”

The girl stamped her foot, and glared around her. Suddenly she threw her hands wide, and the faeries leapt back.

“Then I am Elva! Elfleda! Elvira! Elgiva! Elvina!”

The young faeries shrieked, and fled, wailing aloud.

“Elf friend! Elf gift! Elf child!”

Naaret paused and glanced back to laugh shortly at the girl, who was now standing utterly alone.

“Still not faerie names!”

8 years

The girl ran through the forest, trying to stay quiet, whilst whispering under her breath.

“Spiteful, selfish, nasty, evil creatures! Flighty, cruel, mean things! I hate them all. Elves will be better. Elvina. Elf friend. They’ll be better.”

She kept running, in a more or less straight line, not stopping for anything. She jumped over any logs in her way, and cleared the stream in a bound. She had been running since the sun had gone down the night before, and she must be near to the edge of the forest now…

It actually took many more hours of running flat out before she reached the edge of the wood. She paused by the last trees, and leant against one, feeling weak. After only a moment of rest, she started running again, straight out into the stretch of empty grass between the two forests. It was longer than it seemed, and took her at least two hours to reach the middle. That would be the faerie magic on this side, of course. She stopped when she came to a wide, strongly flowing river. It hadn’t been visible from anywhere as she approached. More magic again. By the looks of it, a mixture of faerie and Elvish enchantments.

The water roiled and spun, thrashing across jagged rocks. The current was fast and strong. She didn’t even hesitate, and leapt as far as she could. The river grew wider, and she landed in the water. Flailing around with her hands, she caught a rock, and cut her hand open. She ignored it, and hauled herself to the stone. She clung to it for a moment, staining water and stone red, and then let go, pushing herself forwards with feet and hands. She made it to another rock, and in this manner crossed the river, although she was swept downstream quite a long way.

Finally, she dragged herself out on the far bank, soaked through. She crawled quickly until she was some way from the riverbank, and then glanced back the way she had come. The river seemed much thinner, and the wood much closer, and there were many faeries peering from the trees, pointing and muttering at her. She glared at them, and as one, they burst into cackling, chattering laughter. They danced in the trees and on the ground, laughing and jeering, as she shivered and got up. She ignored them as she ignored the wound on her hand, and set off running again, as fast as she could.

It took another few hours to reach the forest on this side, and by that time most of the faeries were gone, long since bored with watching her struggle. There were new eyes in this wood. New beings. She slowed down a little as they stepped forwards to the edge of the wood.

They were tall, and beautiful, with long, flowing hair, and piercing eyes. They had pointed ears, and carried weapons – bows and swords. They made no sound. She came to a stop not far from them, and had to force herself on as they stared at her silently. She approached as though walking through some solid material instead of air, and stopped again more than six feet away from them, unable to go any further.

She felt like they could see and understand everything about her. She had no secrets she could hide from them. After a long, long moment, she looked down at the ground, but raised her head again quickly.

“You are Elves…”

They said nothing for a long time, and she felt anger rise within her, that she would be ignored so easily after all of her struggles to get this far. Finally, the one directly in front of her spoke.

“You are not welcome here.”

Her eyes widened furiously, and she shouted, “Why not? I hate living with the faeries! I’ve run for three days to get here! Why won’t you let me in?”

The Elf stared her down again. “You are tainted. You have been in the land of the fey ones. You cannot come here.”

She glared, holding his gaze and refusing to look away. “I did not live with the faeries through choice! It was never my will to be with them! They call me Elvina… That is why I came to you – I thought you would be better than the faeries. Obviously, I was wrong.”

The Elf’s expression did not change. “You have broken the treaties between our lands. You crossed the river. Be thankful we did not kill you instantly, for your impertinence. You are no Elf-friend. Change your name.”

She clenched her fists. “I am not one of the faeries! Let me at least pass through to the mortal lands!”

The Elf inclined his head slightly, saying calmly, “The only reason you were spared is because you are not fey. But they are those who took you from the mortal lands. They only may send you back. You will not enter our wood.”

Furious beyond words, she forced herself forwards two more steps. The Elf blinked slowly, and waited. She made it almost to the edge of the wood, and then, in one movement, faster than the eye could follow, twenty Elves on either side of their leader had arrows to bows. They were all aimed at her head. She stopped, and the Elven leader shook his head slowly.

“You will not pass, daughter of Jathel and Mekor. You are not welcome here.”

She stared at him. “I will not forget this. You, faeries and Elves alike, you will not be remembered kindly.”

The Elves said nothing. She felt her eyes fill with tears.

“I hate you all.”

The Elves remained impassive, and finally she had no choice but to turn and make her way back towards the faerie side of the river. The Elves let their bows relax, and replaced the arrows in their quivers. They watched until she had struggled across the river again, and then they melted back into the wood.

8 years

Naaret circled her warily. The others, Iskret, Liret, Tayret and more, were ranged around in the nearby trees, or shuffling through the undergrowth. The girl kept her arms folded, ignoring them all. Naaret pinched her arm.

“Why did you do that? Why did you go to the… the…”

The girl slapped her hand away. “The Elves?”

The younger faeries yelped and leapt back slightly. Naaret didn’t flinch.

“Yes. The… Elves…”

The last word was a whisper, and earned her many shocked looks from the other faeries. The girl shrugged.

“Because. I can dare. So I did.”

Naaret giggled nastily. “You can dare?”

The others laughed, and danced around the girl. “You kin dare! You kin dare!”

Naaret smirked. “You. Kyndare. Didn’t help, did it?”

The girl shrugged. “Don’t care. At least I’m brave enough to say their name!”

The faeries jeered, and Naaret laughed, pinching the girl’s arm again.

“Elves! Elves, Elves, Elves!”

Naaret giggled as the others shrank back from her. “See? Easy! Kyndare can dare, but Naaret is bravest!”

Kyndare glared at her. “Will you go and speak to them, then?”

Naaret shrugged easily as the faeries froze, then muttered amongst themselves.

“Don’t need to. We can send Kyndare back, seeing as the Elves love her so much! Maybe next time they’ll kill her!”

The faeries cheered, clapping their hands gleefully.

“Send Kyndare, she can dare! Send Kyndare, she can dare!”

Kyndare growled, and threw herself at them. They scattered with a screech, and she caught hold of Naaret’s ankle as the faerie tried to flee. Naaret kicked out at her, and then suddenly turned into a flame. Kyndare shrieked, releasing her hold as her arm was burnt. Naaret turned back to her real form, and fled, screaming blue murder. Kyndare cursed the faerie a thousand times over, and headed for the stream.

17 years

Kyndare shook the faerie, hard.

“Enough! Stop your miserable wailing!” she snapped, “ Or I’ll take you to the Elves!”

Naaret stopped screaming and clawing at the girl. Kyndare raised her eyebrows.

“And don’t even think of turning into anything. I’m ready to hold onto anything you can throw at me.”

The faerie swiftly turned into a giant snake, but Kyndare seized hold of her tail, and just below her head, so she couldn’t attack at all. She turned into a spider suddenly, but Kyndare simply pulled three of its legs off before Naaret returned to her proper form, and the girl grabbed her hair again.

“I warned you, faerie! Don’t try anything! Now. Listen to me, or I’ll shake you so hard your teeth shatter!”

Naaret nodded tearfully, keeping silent.

“I’m mortal. I was taken from the mortal lands by the faeries. I want to go back. You’re going to send me.”

The faerie started to say something, but was cut off as Kyndare shook her again.

“Don’t tell me you can’t! You know more than enough to do it! So do it. Send me into the mortal lands. You’ll be rid of me forever. But no tricks, faerie, or I’ll come back and hunt you down!”

“You’ll have to let go of me,” Naaret sniffed.

Kyndare shook her head, saying, “I don’t think so. You see, you’re going to transport both of us. And then you can come back. That way, any… side effects will happen to you too. Now. Any time you’re ready, Naaret dear…”

The faerie muttered something that Kyndare didn’t hear, and the world around them changed. Kyndare glanced around, and then Naaret struggled free. Kyndare let her go, and the faerie glanced fearfully back before vanishing. Kyndare wiped her hands on her trousers, wrinkling her nose.

“Finally.”

She took in the landscape again, and sighed, before setting off west.

18 years

The door creaked open, letting the hail in. The barman glanced up angrily.

“F’the sake o’the Gods, shut th’bloody door!”

Conversation stopped for a moment or two, and smoke drifted through the air in the new draught until the door was shut. The newcomer shook their head sharply, sending a few half-melted hailstones flying. There were a number of mutters as the stranger glanced around, then shoved the hood on their cloak back. She looked around again, and raised an eyebrow at the silence. It was broken by a loud wolf-whistle, and then a roar of laughter as the woman blushed. Conversations began again, and most attention turned away from her as she strode to an empty table along the back wall. She sat, leaning back in the chair and gazing around her. Short black curls bounced as she shook her head again, having a stiff neck from keeping her head down in the hail. One of the men playing cards at a nearby table winked at her, and she rolled her eyes, meriting a few chuckles from his companions. She glanced up sharply as someone approached, and set the chair down on all four legs again.

“Yes? Can I help you?”

The new arrival chuckled, and sat down at the table.

“Well, you can tell you’re not from around here.”

She sighed, and looked up, quite prepared to make a sarcastic comeback, but was stopped sharply as she met the other girl’s eyes. They were black. Pure black, all the way to her skin. She swallowed. The girl smiled, and carried on talking casually.

“You see, anyone from around here would understand that if you enter an inn, you ask for your drink straight away, at the bar. There’s nothing like the foreign sort of service here. You ask, or you don’t get. Simple. And women from around here wouldn’t blush at a wolf whistle. They’d either sidle over and end up spending the night at the fella’s place, or beat the living hell out of him. You don’t get blushing flowers here.”

She recovered enough to reply. “Oh, and why would you be telling me this?”

The girl with black eyes shrugged. “So I can steal your sword.”

She held it up slightly, and the woman choked, knocking her chair over backwards as she lunged to retrieve her weapon. Kyndare let her have it, laughing, and the woman righted her chair again, keeping a suspicious eye on her as she sat down.

“Why did you do that?”

Kyndare shrugged, answering easily, “To check if I could. You see if I could steal your sword so easily, then you’ll be prey to every street thief and pickpocket this town holds.”

The woman glared. “I don’t think so. I know how to take care of myself.”

“Oh, now I doubt that. What’s your name, kid?”

“Lornyx,” declared the woman, defiantly crossing her arms. “But I’m not a kid.”

With a grin, Kyndare asked, “Indeed. How old are you, then?”

Lornyx straightened up, and sniffed. “My age is none of your business! And nor is my safety.”

Kyndare smiled. “Right. I’d say you were… seventeen. And no more than five months.”

Lornyx’s mouth dropped open, and her composure wilted swiftly, although she tried bravely to keep up the façade.

“Oh, really. And what would make you say that?”

Kyndare tried not to laugh. “Your face, your build, your attitude, and the fact that this sword is slightly lighter than mine. And your hands are too smooth.”

Lornyx simply stared at her. “What?”

With a straight face, Kyndare delivered her judgement. “You’ve only been away from home for a few weeks. You ran away, thinking of adventure and excitement, stole a sword from your father’s collection, sliced off your hair, and made it this far without being discovered, in… two weeks.”

Lornyx was by now blushing furiously, and her voice was small when she replied, “Three…”

Kyndare blinked. “Sorry?”

“Three weeks.”

Kyndare blinked again, and then burst out laughing. Lornyx stared nervously at her until she stopped, and grinned.

“All alone?”

Lornyx stared at the table. “Well…” She stopped, and looked back up defiantly, snapping, “Why should I tell you anything?”

The girl with black eyes smiled slightly. “Because you’re lonely, and scared, and your confidence has vanished. You want to trust someone, and I haven’t attacked you while screaming all sorts of devilry yet, so I seem a good choice. And I’m not that much older than you, which means you catch yourself trusting me anyway, even without knowing a thing about me. There, I can help. My name’s Kyndare.”

Lornyx forced a smile, and Kyndare shrugged. “Besides all that, I’m actually not going to hurt you. Quite the opposite. You’re young, female and on your own in this place, much like I was not too long ago. You have to watch your step, or… Well, anyway, I intend to see to it that you survive long enough to be able to take care of yourself.”

The younger girl nodded slowly. “What do you expect in return?”

“Information, if you have it. And an attempt to get it if you don’t,” Kyndare said, folding her arms.

Lornyx paused for quite a while. “What… sort of information do you want?”

The black eyes focussed sharply on her face. “I want to know about Jathel and Mekor.”

“The mages!” Lornyx gasped, recoiling instinctively.

“Yes, the mages. I want to know everything that’s known about them, and what happened to them until they were last heard of. I especially want to know where they were last detected.”

Lornyx shrugged. “I think I should be able to find something. May I ask why you want to know?”

“You may ask, but you won’t get an answer,” Kyndare replied firmly. “Where are you holed up, if I’m to teach you how to defend yourself?”

Lornyx put her hood back up, and stood, leading the way through the tables out to the door.

Kyndare recognised the route Lornyx took, leading to one of the smaller inns in town. She swept in confidently, and straight to the stairs that led to the rooms for rent. Kyndare ignored the curious stares and mutters that arose, and leapt lithely up the stairs after Lornyx. The younger girl stopped by the last door, and waited for Kyndare to catch up with her before knocking. Kyndare was slightly surprised to hear what sounded like Lornyx’s voice call from inside the room.

“Who’s there?”

Lornyx grinned before replying. “It’s okay, she’s a friend. Her name’s Kyndare.”

Kyndare tilted her head to one side, thinking this a very strange answer. Lornyx only grinned, as the latch on the door was undone and the door was opened.

Lornyx was watching Kyndare carefully to see her reaction, and was pleased that her expression didn’t change. The eighteen year old flicked her gaze from Lornyx to the girl that had opened the door.

“You do know, I hope, that identical twins tend to be regarded as unlucky, or ill omens, around here. Don’t you?”

Lornyx’s twin yawned, and rubbed at her eyes, muttering, “Why do you think I’m stuck in here while Lornyx runs about making friends around town?”

Kyndare rolled her eyes. “I mean you no harm,” she said.

“If you did, I would not let you in, Kyndare,” the other girl returned, turning aside from the doorway to admit entrance to the two of them. “But there is more to you than meets the eye. However odd the eye may be,” she added.

Kyndare followed the twins inside, and sat on one of the few chairs in the room. She looked around, and was unsurprised at the emptiness of the chamber. One bed off to one side of the room, a small window near it, two chairs, and two bags next to the bed. They were almost full, and what hadn’t been unpacked was on the bed. Her gaze returned to the two girls, and Lornyx grinned at her, saying, “Me and Elissa are twins. Same story for both of us, except that I left home first, and Elissa loyally followed me.”

Kyndare nodded slowly, and asked, “Were you prepared for the world?”

Lornyx blinked, not expecting such a question. “What?”

Kyndare repeated the question, in the same, monotonous, uninterested way. Lornyx stared at her.

“What sort of question is that?”

Kyndare returned the stare with a measured gaze. “Very well. I’ll rephrase it. How have you fared in the world?”

Lornyx went red, and Elissa quietly answered. “We have survived thus far, without undue incident. Much like yourself.”

There was a brief pause, as Kyndare glared at Elissa.

“Will you explain how you know so much about me? I get angry with things I don’t understand.”

Elissa smiled. “I’ve got a touch of magic. I can… sense people, you might say. General things, like their attitude, where they are and so on. It’s a rare thing; only the mage testers have it, really. They can look into someone’s soul, see if they have any magic or not, and what sort. I was going to train to be one, but then Lornyx left.”

She sat down on the bed, as if the speech had tired her. Kyndare watched her for a moment.

“Can you see into my soul, then?”

Elissa smiled slightly, saying, “I can see you have magic. A heck of a lot of it, too. All-round power.” She paused, and leant forward, as though peering more closely at something, before finishing, “Ah, but you didn’t know that, did you? And you don’t know how to use it.”

Lornyx grinned. “Stop scaring her. She’s promised to teach us how to defend ourselves, in return for information about Jathel and Mekor.”

Her twin thought hard momentarily. “The best person to tell her that would be… Oh, what was he called? Thingy… You know!”

Lornyx tapped her sister’s forehead briefly, and then grinned at Kyndare. “Need to improve that memory, ‘Liss. The Hermit. He lives a long way away, though. In Keldyan. From here, we’d have to go through Rithar and Arkel.”

Kyna nodded. “That isn’t out of your way, is it?”

Elissa gestured at the bags by the bed. “We weren’t going anywhere specifically. You can teach us some fighting on the way. Besides, travelling’s always easier with company.”

Kyndare found that Elissa’s hopes proved correct. The next few weeks saw the three of them pressing forward into Rithar, and making quite good time. They grew used to each other’s company, and Elissa proved quite a natural at sword fighting, although Lornyx would need a lot more training before she could defend herself properly.

The twins also told Kyndare everything they could remember about the Hermit, and the two mages Jathel and Mekor.

The mages, it seemed, had appeared essentially from nowhere, and swept aside any defiance from the kingdoms. Working together, the two were more powerful than any group of mages pitted against them. They had begun a tyrannical rule, taking over the entire western continent with apparent ease, despite the combined efforts of all six kingdoms, and a vast army sent to stop them. For over twenty years, the word of the mages had been law, until the Hermit had prophesied their downfall.

As best the twins could remember, the prophecy claimed that their own children, who would be marked unique for all eyes to see, would defeat the mages.

Soon after the prophecy had been delivered, and begun to spread, the mages had vanished. As there seemed to be no need for their children to rise up and overthrow them, the prophecy had been ignored. Anything mentioned in connection with Jathel and Mekor was now feared and hated, and no one had the foolishness to claim they were the children spoken of.

This gave Kyndare a lot of food for thought, but it was not until they were some four weeks into the journey that she was given proof of the new attitudes.

Kyndare crept forward slowly, keeping her sword low to avoid any glint of reflecting moonlight startling the rabbit. She was just about to spring forward and make a good catch, when there was a clack of horseshoes and a brief whinny from the nearby road. The rabbit heard, and sped into the night as Kyndare made a vain attempt to seize it. Annoyed, she stood up, pulling her cloak tighter around herself and putting up the hood against the cold night air. She strode towards the road, and quickly found a man on horseback. He had an expensive set of clothes, but the bags and tack on the horse seemed well used.

Treating him to a full, black-eyed glare, she growled, “You scared away my rabbit.”

The young man glanced down, evidently unable to see her eyes properly in the night’s darkness. “Oh. My sincerest apologies. Tell me, where’s the nearest town?”

Kyndare seethed quietly. “There isn’t one. The nearest patch of civilisation is about ten, fifteen miles south. You’d never make it before morning, now.”

The man sighed. “Thanks, lad. Lead me to your camp, then.”

Shaking her head incredulously, Kyndare asked, “Why?”

The man straightened, and stared down at her haughtily. “Because I am Aelfric, son of Aelfraed, king of Larsha!”

Kyndare drew her sword, and Aelfric’s hauteur was replaced by shock.

“What! You’d draw your sword on your prince, boy?”

Kyndare shook her head pityingly. “I’d draw my sword on any fool who insults me and fails to see how.”

With a quick flick of her head, she knocked her hood down, and tossed her long, black, plaited hair in front of her shoulder. Aelfric’s jaw dropped.

“You’re a woman!”

Kyndare tapped a foot impatiently. “How perceptive of you.”

Recovering his wits, the prince bowed from his horse, his courtly manners sliding back into place. “My apologies once again, lady. Would you be kind enough to extend your hospitality to your prince?”

“You aren’t my prince,” Kyndare replied scathingly.

Blinking at the discourtesy, Aelfric frowned. It seemed to have become something of a battle, to see whether he could defeat her with his arguments. “Larsha is on good terms with all the other kingdoms. Who then is your king? I shall reward you handsomely, and make you favourably known to him, if you but allow me to partake of your supper…”

Kyndare laughed shortly. “If you remember, you scared away my supper. As to kings, I don’t particularly see the point of them. I only obey those who have proven themselves better than me.”

Aelfric’s frown deepened. “How old are you, girl, that you defy a prince and freely admit being an outlaw?”

Her eyes narrowed, as she returned the question. “How old are you, Aelfric, that you think you have the right to order a stranger around, eat their food, and prance into their camp unasked?”

His eyes flashed. “I’m nineteen,” he said, quickly making a guess at her age. Kyndare smiled thinly.

“I’m twenty,” she lied, “so respect your elders and betters.”

Aelfric refused to be beaten. “I’m twenty in a few weeks,” he claimed.

“I’m twenty-one in a day or so,” Kyndare shot back, “So I’ll always be older than you. Therefore, you should do as I say, not the other way round.”

The prince nearly fell off his horse at the idea. “But I’m royalty!” he cried.

Kyndare grinned fiendishly, and played her trump card. “And I’m a mage.”

Aelfric gasped, and his horse skittered sideways as he convulsively pulled at the reins. “What… what reason do I have to believe you?”

Kyndare sheathed her sword again, and straightened up. “You dare ask the daughter of Jathel and Mekor for proof of her magic?” She stepped closer to the terrified prince. “Would you like some proof?”

He shook his head sharply, tripping over his words in his haste to speak. “No! No, thank you, no need!”

Kyndare relaxed, and smiled at the boy. “It’s a good thing I’m not nearly as cruel as my parents, then, isn’t it? So, come, let me show you my camp and companions. Share our food.”

He tried to return the smile, saying, “Oh, but I couldn’t… I really must move on…” He trailed off as she grinned slowly, saying, “But I insist.”

She turned and started walking back to the camp, and as she had suspected he would, he followed meekly. The stories one heard about those who had turned their backs on mages weren’t pretty.

Elissa was tending the fire when Kyndare strolled into the camp, and Lornyx was busy chopping vegetables to add into the cooking pot. Elissa smiled.

“Kyndare! We were just deciding you’d got lost. Where’s that rabbit you said you would catch?”

Kyndare shrugged, and smoothly replied, “I didn’t catch a rabbit, so I brought back a mouse hiding in a royal prince’s heart.”

At that moment, Aelfric, who had been tying up his horse, marched into the campsite, forgetting his fear of the mage-girl in his anger at the blow to his pride. The tableau that met his eyes was not reassuring, and his anger faded suddenly as he saw two girls, identical in every way, crouched about a small cauldron on a fire. Add to that the fact that their friend claimed to be Jathel and Mekor’s daughter, and there was only one conclusion he could reach.

“Witchcraft!” he yelped, recoiling in noble horror.

Lornyx merely gave him a doubtful look, and replied, “No, stew.”

A smile crept onto Elissa’s face, as she continued, “Yes. But we really need some meat for it. You wouldn’t happen to have a rabbit or something with you, would you?”

Aelfric tried to relax a little, nodding. “I did catch a hare this morning…”

Over a rather tasty stew, Aelfric told the girls his story – as the youngest prince, he had very little chance of succeeding to the throne, and had no desire for it anyway. Instead, he had always wanted to travel the world and perform some great act of heroism for which he would be remembered in legend.

As he was royalty, his dreams were tended to, and he had been sent away from Larsha with great ceremony, to find his quest and hopefully succeed. However, he was beginning to realise that few people in his home kingdom expected him to return. By now, he had quite a taste for the travelling life – if he hadn’t quite lost his princely habits, as Kyndare pointed out.

When he was told of the Hermit’s prophecy, he brightened up considerably.

“That’s it! You’re a child of the mages; you’re destined to rid the world of them forever! If I came with you, I could help! We’d go down in history…”

His eyes turned slightly dreamy, and Lornyx coughed to hide her laughter at his high-flown dreams. However much the situation amused her, the group was from then increased to four.

19 years

Near the border of Rithar, there was one last town, before a large expanse of empty land that stretched well into Arkel. The town was not large, and not rich. It had only one inn, and any travellers passing through to somewhere better stopped at this inn for the night. Aelfric, looking much less like a prince after many more weeks of travel, had already arranged for his horse to be kept at the stables that joined on to the inn, but Kyndare eyed the sign outside in annoyance.

“This is the only place?”

Elissa shrugged, saying, “I can’t sense any other groups of people – aside from families. This is the place everyone goes to.”

Lornyx stretched, staring at the darkening sky.

“It’s too dark to travel on, so it’s either here or a camp at the side of the road. Take your pick, Kyna.”

The sign above the inn swung in the brief silence that followed. Kyndare opened her mouth, and Aelfric and Lornyx seized her arms, dragging her into the inn.

“Good choice, Kyna. Come on!”

The inside of the tavern was dark; two small, dirty windows were all that lit it. There were a lot of people gathered inside, but none were really drunk as it was still quite early in the evening. The barman leant forward a little.

“Can I help you, ladies? Sir?”

Kyndare stared to one side, half-closing her eyes to avoid scaring any of the people at the bar. Aelfric did the talking.

“We’d like a room for the night. Two rooms,” he added hastily as Lornyx kicked his ankle.

The barman shrugged easily, waving one hand towards the stairs at the back of the inn.

“Two rooms, y’say. That’ll be six silver pieces.”

Lornyx shook her head in astonishment. “What do you take us for? I wouldn’t pay two silvers to stay here!”

Elissa stepped in before Lornyx managed to stir up the entire bar.

“How about four silvers? We can just about afford that.”

The barman paused, and then nodded. “Aye, that’ll do.”

Elissa unpacked her bag slightly to dig out the money. Aelfric led the way to the stairs, and the barman called over to him.

“Two rooms at the end’re free.”

The prince nodded, and Lornyx passed him, muttering, “Old fraud, I’ll bet every room in the place is empty, and will have been for months!”

The corridor above the inn was narrow, and led off to eight small rooms. Kyndare and Lornyx opened the doors of the two at the furthest end, and Kyna wrinkled her nose in disgust.

“I’d rather have a roadside camp. Look at this, will you?”

Aelfric and Lornyx peered in over her shoulders, and Lornyx sighed.

“What did I tell you? The other one’s fine, though.”

The room was full of cobwebs, although a half-hearted attempt had been made to dust off the bed and chair. Kyndare shut the door, moving instead to the room next to it. With a slight pause, she pushed open the door, and was relieved to see that this room was in a much better state. She strode in.

“Fair enough. This seems all right. Who’s in which room, then?”

The three of them glanced at each other, and then Lornyx shrugged. “Doesn’t really matter. I’m not bothered. Leave the bags in here, and we can sort it out later.”

Aelfric swung his bag off his back, throwing it onto the bed and rubbing his shoulder.

“It’s a relief to get rid of that, I can tell you.”

Elissa poked her head around the doorway, saying, “Oh, so this is where you are.” She strolled in, shutting the door behind her, and looked around.

“Better than the other one, isn’t it?” Kyndare grinned.

Elissa poked the chair dubiously, and then shrugged. The door opened suddenly, and the four turned in surprise. The man attempting to enter paused to unhook his cloak from the door handle, and looked up. He blinked, and bowed gracefully, apologising, “My mistake. The barman told me that only the two rooms at the end were taken.”

Lornyx waved a hand towards the room beside theirs. “Don’t bother trying that one. It’s filthy. That’s why we moved.”

He smiled, and nodded his thanks, grinning cheerfully at each of them in turn. Before it could be avoided, Kyndare looked up, and their eyes met. She looked away quickly, but the man only raised an eyebrow, before leaving.

The moment he was gone, the group exchanged glances.

“Did you see?” Lornyx asked, “He had two swords!”

“Three,” Aelfric corrected. “He had at least one strapped to his back as wall. I could make out the hilt beneath his cloak.”

“Doesn’t it make you wonder who he is?” Lornyx asked, as Kyndare stretched.

“Not particularly. None of my business, you see.”

Chastened, the others changed the topic, debating instead who would be sleeping in which room.

The four ate a dinner provided by the barman. It tasted of grease more than anything else, and they declined second helpings.

All of them retired to their rooms before the night had truly fallen, knowing that they would have to rise early the next morning.

At some time before dawn, when the sky was still dark, Aelfric woke up. He lay still for a moment, before sitting up from the uncomfortable bed. His eyes were well adjusted to the darkness, and he could make out Kyndare’s form, wrapped in blankets and still fast asleep on the floor. He waited for some time, trying to work out what had woken him up. All he could see was a grey version of the room, with some occasional moonlight filtering in through the window, broken up by the cloudy sky.

He couldn’t smell smoke, or hear flames, so it was definitely not a fire that had disturbed him. In fact, all he could hear was the soft sound of nocturnal wildlife going about its business… and a small jangle of metal. He frowned, and got up quietly, padding over to the window in his bare feet.

A pale shape was moving near the front of the inn, with a darker shape just visible in front of it. There was a soft snort that Aelfric would have recognized even without the visual aids. He was about to yell after the horse-thief, but a hand was clamped over his mouth, and Kyndare hissed, “Quiet! Don’t let them know we’re awake.”

She removed her hand, and he noted that she had her sword ready.

“Them?” he asked quietly.

She tilted her head towards the corridor, where faint footsteps and creaking floorboards could be heard. With a swift gesture, she ordered him to fetch his sword. He obeyed, pulling on his boots and cloak quickly. She nodded, and followed suit.

“We might have to make a run for it. I’ll wake Lornyx and Elissa. Pack the bags.”

Carefully, she opened the door, and peered around, before creeping into the passage and heading for the twins’ room. She trod as quietly as possible, but couldn’t prevent a floorboard from creaking slightly. The figure halfway along the corridor turned swiftly, but then grinned, and held a finger to his lips. She frowned, and the stranger who had intruded on them earlier held up two fingers, before gesturing at the stairway.

With a nod, Kyndare entered the twins’ room, and woke them silently. She explained in a whisper, packing their bags as they pulled boots on and fastened belts.

“Aelfric’s horse has been stolen. The inn’s got visitors. They might be after us, so we’re leaving. Hurry.”

Nods were exchanged, and the twins quickly packed up and got ready for travelling. At Kyndare’s gesture, they both unsheathed their swords, and followed her to the door. She stepped into the corridor, checking the window at the end to make sure no one was on that side of the building.

“Aelfric!” she breathed, and he appeared at the doorway, looking anxious. “Bags,” she prompted.

Quickly, he vanished and returned holding her bag, and shouldering his. She took it from him, and slipped it on over her cloak, then pointed towards the stairs.

“Window’s too high to jump. We’ll have to go out the front door. Careful, there’s at least two of them inside.”

She led the way along the corridor, moving with very little noise. The others followed closely, and she reached the top of the stairs in a short time. The man who had been climbed up the steps glanced upwards, and grinned, raising his sword.

“Gotcha now, rebel.”

Kyndare stepped back slightly, gaining room to fight properly, but the man grunted, and fell suddenly. Elissa muffled a yelp of horror at the abrupt death, as the stranger pulled his sword free of the man’s back, and wiped it on the dead man’s shirt.

“Sorry about that. I got the other two, but he must have slipped past me.”

Kyndare inclined her head. “Thank you. I’m Kyndare, my friends are Elissa, Lornyx, and Aelfric.”

The stranger bowed slightly, saying, “Nalay Merethwen. But I think there are more of this lot coming, so we’d be advised to continue the introductions elsewhere.”

Aelfric smiled faintly. “Oh, we were just leaving anyway.”

Nalay led the group outside, and pointed through the town, where lights could be seen bobbing along the road.

“There. Royal guard, I’d bet. The four here were probably just scouts. There’ll be at least another twenty coming.”

Kyndare tossed her sword into her left hand, and shook her right arm, saying, “We think they’re after us, so this isn’t your fight, friend.”

Nalay gave a carefree grin before replying. “And to think I was just about to say the same to you.”

“What does that mean?” Lornyx asked sharply.

He twitched aside his cloak to reveal his second sword, sheathed on the opposite side of his belt. He tilted his head backwards slightly.

“There are two more on my back. That’s rule number two of Rithar’s freedom fighters. Never be caught unarmed.”

There was a pause, and then Aelfric frowned. “And you think a squad of men would be sent to apprehend one freedom fighter?”

Nalay grinned again. “Actually, I believe they think you’re in the group, and this is a meeting place. Besides that,” he winked at Kyndare, “I am rather notorious.”

Elissa shook her head slightly, and gestured back at the advancing lights. “If that scout of theirs has warned them we put up a fight, it doesn’t really make much difference any more. They’ll be here any minute, so are we going to fight, or run?”

Kyndare hardly paused before setting off towards the trees, intending to cut through to the path leading into Arkel. “Run, of course. With us outnumbered four to one, what else can we do?”

As they followed, Lornyx nudged Nalay’s arm, asking, “So if that was rule number two, what’s rule number one?”

The freedom fighter grinned broadly, sheathing his sword. “Never be caught.”

Clouds gathered over the next hour or so, and it soon began to rain heavily. The five grouped closer together as they made their way through the trees, pulling their cloaks tighter around themselves. Nalay moved forward to speak to Kyndare, who was perfectly happy that it was raining.

“It’ll help wipe out our tracks, and that squad won’t have a chance of following us in this.”

The optimistic outlook was passed through the rest of the group, and they ploughed on through the downpour.

By dawn, they had crossed the border into Arkel.