Long ago, when you were around twelve, you and two of your friends had wandered into the Forbidden Forest.
And for the first time, you spotted a Xenmarg. They’re dangerous beasts with enormous webbed wings spanning up to four full-grown men. Their elongated jaws are full of sharp blades of flesh-tearing teeth. They’re well known for preying on medium-sized animals, as well as humans, and flying off with them for a meal.
Children like you were easy prey. But they mostly hunted wild boar that lived in forests and woods.
That day, you’d been climbing trees against your friends’ better judgment. When they spotted the Xenmarg, they hid in the brush for safety. But you were stuck in the canopy, all alone. The shock and terror of it all rushed through you then.
As an orphan, you always knew wandering off was dangerous. You thought you were about to be snatched at any moment by the Xenmarg. And in those horrific moments, you wondered if anyone would even care if you were gone. Would they look for you?
You were barely breathing and unable to move an inch the entire time. It seemed to last forever.
You were so still that all the muscles in your legs and arms burned like dragon fire from holding the position. And you remained completely still until it flew away with empty talons.
That’s how still you are now as you stare at the young guardsman.
It’s as if time has frozen all over again.
Everyone stares at him and then at each other. “We’re under attack!” he cries again, searching for the Commander or a superior officer—anyone who could take charge.
“To your positions!” someone finally snaps orders in a rush.
Suddenly, they all scramble to their posts. They move out of the room so quickly that it steals the breath from your lungs as they exit. “Sound the alarm!” they yell.
You instinctively stand, breaking out in a run, but your iron bounds yank you back to the table.
You’re still shackled.
All alone.
They forgot about you.
An explosion sounds in the distance. The ground and room shake with violent tremors from the blast impact. It’s too close.
Much too close.
At this rate, you’ll be crushed to dust and dead before you even have a chance at escape.
“Wait! Help!” you scream shrilly through another explosion as dust from crumbling stone fills the hall.
No one remains, and all you hear are the chaotic sounds of collapsing rock and cannon fire.
Maybe it’s your fellow countrymen rescuing you?
Although that’s highly doubtful, they most likely thought you died from the poison tooth as you were told repeatedly to use if ever captured by the Sherinden Guard.
And if it weren’t for the Commander, you would have been successful.
Another explosion blasts to your left, sending a heavy table crashing and splintering against yours. Food, plates and utensils go flying in the air. The room is on fire and fills with thick plumes of black, acrid smoke, making panic surge through your veins.
No.
This isn’t the way you want to die. Alone and forgotten. They all forgot about you.
It’s such a hopeless thought in your mind. No one cares.
You yank on your shackles repeatedly but can’t move past your table. You stand up and pull, but it’s no use. So, you instinctively duck for cover underneath your table, feeling utterly helpless.
Don’t panic. Don’t panic. You steady your breaths.
You’ve got to get out of here.
Through the ash and smoke, a shiny fork glints. Instinctively, you grab it and start picking the lock of your shackles.
The whole structure shakes again from another more powerful blast. This is bad. It’s too close that you fear the entire room will cave in any moment.
Another blast and the mess hall plunges into an even darker smoke cloud that fills your lungs. You can’t see anything through the thick haze because it’s so dark and your eyes burn, and you’re coughing, desperate for fresh air.
This is it. You’re going to die here. You curl up into a small ball and cover your mouth with your sleeve, hoping death is quick.
Your vision blurs, and you’re getting so sleepy.
Suddenly, the Commander strides in fast, cutting through the darkness of the room with light flaring behind him.
He enters like a dark warrior out of a dream.
He finds you under the table and unshackles your wrist fast.
He pulls you along at a lightning-quick pace. “You must leave at once.” The soft urgency in his voice is unsettling to you.
“Commander?” Your voice trembles with the realization that he didn’t forget you, although it fills you with confusion.
“We’re under attack. They’re waiting. You leave now,” he says, dragging you along hurriedly through the twists and turns of the same corridor where perhaps you and he once fought.
You’re not sure. This is all so very disorienting. And then another explosion blasts again in another corner, but a little further from your last position.
Is it further or closer? You can’t tell. But the sound of explosions are deafening.
“Come.” He pulls you into an open courtyard at the rear of the structure. It’s morning, but the sky is an eerie gray and a violent blast from another explosion goes off. It shatters the stone wall nearby and sends rock ricocheting toward you both.
The Commander grabs you, then. He wraps his arms around your back and turns, placing his body in between you and the blast, shielding you from harm.
You both instinctively duck for cover as pieces of small rock ricochet toward you.
As the dust settles, you peer up at him. He’s breathing heavily and gazing down at you. “Are you alright?” he asks.
You nod, full of shock, when he releases you from his firm grip.
“You must go now,” he rasps, moving away.
A set of three black stallions await, rearing high and protesting the surrounding violence. One has supplies piled on its back.
Captain Stanlas, with ten of his men, are waiting there. He rushes the Commander. “Commander, change of plans. You must take her!”
“Captain, I will stay to defend our position. We’ll give you time.”
“No, Commander,” he cuts in sharply. “The trek is dangerous. And you’re one of the few who know it well. You’re the better man for it.”
The Commander’s eyes are a vivid green, roiling with concern at this news.
“We cannot part with any more men,” Captain Stanlas admits.
You know the Commander wants to stay, but he seems conflicted about the order. He surveys the entire fort quickly.
The entire place is shaking from rapid cannon fire and in flames.
But you know that look. He is loyal to his men, but he is bound by duty and must honor his oath.
“That is an order, Commander! Take her now,” Captain Stanlas orders. “You’re the only one who can.” He grips the Commander’s arm. “Trust me, my friend. You must go.”
“Yes, Captain.” The Commander relents, nodding curtly in agreement. Captain Stanlas runs back inside with the men following him to defend against your countrymen.
They’re your people, but none of them know you’re still alive. You suppose it wouldn’t help at all, even if they did know.
The Commander attaches a longer chain to your shackles. He pulls you along with long strides of his legs that you can barely keep up. He attaches the chain to his horse. “Come. We travel light and must ride hard.” His low, calm voice never lets on to the total calamity happening around the two of you.
He helps you mount your horse with a fast thrust.
The scent of gunpowder and smoke hangs thick in the air.
The Commander mounts and gives a sharp nudge to his black stallion, and you’re both riding hard into the sun. Deeper into Sherinde, to the capital.
Your gown flows behind you as the wind whips through your braided hair.
Wait.
“No. My blade!” you yell just as another explosion blasts to your right, nearly throwing you. Your horse rears high, and you hold on tightly. Your ears ring in a high-pitched sound as she gallops after the Commander at full speed.
You glance back at the fort that’s been your prison. It’s halfway engulfed in flames and dark smoke.
But it’s much too late. There’s no going back.
Working on Chapter 20
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