The next four days, Ockhaven lived in the rhythm of endless motion. Leo and I helped Elara at the Eastern Market, setting out flasks of tinctures and calling out to passersby, and also crossed over to Eriс's stall, where it smelled of salt and dried fish from Rallis. The city blazed with lights, wandering performers took the squares, and from the taverns came laughter that drowned out the noise of carts.
At dawn on the second day of the Hunt, a sentry's cry rang out at the Southern Gate. A lone rider appeared in the dust of the plain. He rode slowly, leading by the reins a horse to whose saddle was fastened the massive head of a White-Stone Boar. The beast's hide had the texture of limestone, and its mineralized tusks gleamed in the sun. The townspeople and the guards of the Green Order met the warrior with applause, but the joy was restrained. Everyone understood that taking a boar was only a small part of what the knights of Waldruhm were capable of.
But after that moment, the gates of Ockhaven received no more victors.
The third day passed in aching anticipation.
The fourth day, the final deadline set by the watch officer, was drawing to a close. The sun sank slowly behind the horizon, staining the city's white walls crimson. An enormous crowd had gathered in the square before the gates. Elara stood beside me, her fingers nervously working the fabric of her dress, while Selma had come out of the tavern and frozen at the wooden railing, her eyes fixed on the empty road.
By this hour, more than half the participants usually returned to the city — some two dozen warriors, with trophies and tales of feats.
But now the plain stood empty. Not a single suit of armor caught the light of the sunset, not a single horn announced a return. Silence settled over the crowd, broken only by heavy breathing and whispers.
Erik came up to us, his face unusually serious. He looked at Selma, then at Bernard and me.
"Nothing like this has ever happened in my memory" — Erik lowered his voice so the others wouldn't hear.
"More than two dozen men went out. One came back. And the gates are about to close."
I looked at the balcony where the queen had stood yesterday. It was empty, but in one of the castle windows I caught the silhouettes of the Aisengard representatives, standing motionless, watching the square.
The gate guards exchanged uncertain glances, then turned their eyes to the watch officer, who, with a short exhale and pressed lips, gave a nod, and with it the order to close the gates.
The scrape of metal on stone rang out over the hushed square as the heavy gate panels of Ockhaven began to slowly draw together.
The watch officer stood with his back to the plain, his shoulders dropped.
Selma, standing right at the railing, clutched the wood in a white-knuckled grip, her eyes never leaving the narrowing strip of horizon.
"Look!" — a shout from the crowd made everyone flinch.
The officer spun around sharply. Far in the dust, stained crimson by the dying light, a lone point moved. He threw up his hand, giving the order to halt the closing of the gates. The guards threw their weight against the levers, and the panels stopped, while the rider drew closer in lurching bursts.
When the warrior reached the gates, I saw that it was a girl.
She wore a torn foreign uniform, nothing like the clothes of Waldruhm's people. She wasn't sitting so much as lying across the horse's neck, her fingers dug into the mane. The guards seized the reins of the frightened animal.
The girl slid from the saddle and onto the ground, unable to hold herself up.
Deep cuts on her shoulders and side were still bleeding, leaving dark stains on the white stone of the road. Her eyes darted wildly, reflecting a primal terror, and her breathing came in broken, rasping gasps.
"The horse..." — Selma whispered, stepping forward.
She recognized the animal. It was the horse her son had ridden out of the city four days ago. On the horse's flank still hung the empty harness for the supply pouches she had given Elen before he left.
The unknown girl barely moved her lips, trying to say something, but her eyelids grew heavy, and she was already on the verge of slipping into oblivion, when suddenly Magister Kyle broke through the crowd, his guards with him.
"Make way! Stand back!" — the Magister shouted.
His guards shoved the sentries aside from the injured girl, clearing a path for Kyle. The Magister quickly rolled up the sleeves of his dark robes. He dropped to his knees, lifted the girl's head, and pressed his palm firmly to her chest over her heart.
I watched him slowly close his eyes, focusing completely, and a moment later his hand was enveloped in a blue radiance, like a glowing current of energy. The radiance shifted smoothly, seeping through the girl's clothing and into her body. Gradually the same light began to emanate from the injured girl's eyes, until her entire body was lit from within by that blue, rhythmic pulse.
After a few seconds, Magister Kyle began to tremble finely. His face went pale, and blood ran from his nose, marking the critical strain on his body. His guards moved to intervene in agitation, but Kyle did not take his hand away until the pulsing light reached its peak. Then, at last, he released the girl and lurched back.
It seemed nothing had changed, but a second later the girl drew a sharp, deep breath that made the crowd flinch.
Magister Kyle breathed heavily, pressing his palm to his nose as dark blood dripped onto the cobblestones. Kyle's guards closed in a tight ring around him and the girl, blocking the curious townspeople from coming closer.
The crowd shuddered and began rapidly parting. Moving with assured strides toward the scene came Edith Valdrich, accompanied by four knights of the Green Order.
The queen's face held cold resolve, stripped of warmth or sympathy.
Edith stopped three paces from the Magister and looked down at him.
"Explain yourself, Kyle. What is happening here."
Magister Kyle wiped his face on his sleeve, smearing dark blood into the expensive cloth. He rose slowly, leaning on his guard's shoulder.
"Your Majesty, this is Aris, one of my assistants in the gathering of rare components... A research group was in the borderland of the forest collecting medicinal mosses required for our shared needs."
The queen narrowed her eyes, her gaze moving to Aris. The girl sat on the pavement, gulping air in convulsive heaves. Her fingers clawed at the cold stone.
"Why did the forest watch not report this to me? Who gave you the right to approach the forest without my consent?" — asked Edith, making no effort to conceal her rising anger and indignation, while continuing to look at the exhausted girl.
"My Queen, I—"
"Enough." — the Queen cut him off, without turning her gaze to him.
"Sir Alister, take Magister Kyle and his people into custody." — Edith gave the order, stepping toward the injured Aris.
"Look at me" — the queen's voice came out sharp.
Aris raised her head. In her eyes, the light of the sunset was reflected alongside the frozen horror of what she had survived.
Edith's eyes narrowed slightly, and she lowered herself to one knee, examining the wounded girl's body, whose injuries had already stopped bleeding thanks to the Magister's magic. The queen tilted her head slightly to one side, looking into the dazed girl's eyes.
"What happened to you?" — the queen asked, calmly.
Aris's lips trembled, her face all dirt and blood, and she still couldn't bring herself to answer.
"Answer your queen!" — one of the Order's knights commanded, but a silent gesture of Edith's hand silenced him at once.
"You are safe here, and Magister Kyle appears to have saved your life. Try to focus on me and answer just a couple of questions. I promise nothing will happen to you." — the queen said, her eyes reading of resolve and emotional control.
Aris tried to speak, but from her throat came only a whistling rasp.
"E...Everyone... dead. I-It... it came out of the shadows..."
The girl trembled harder, covering her face with her hands.
"It was tearing them apart... The warriors tried... they fought back... but... steel... it just snapped... I barely... the horse... it was standing at the edge of camp... h-he... was kind... he shoved me... and I... I... I just ran..."
The girl suddenly began breathing in rapid, broken gasps that immediately started tipping into a panic attack.
Edith reacted instantly, with a sharp motion touching the tips of two fingers to Aris's neck, and the girl went still and lost consciousness.
An anxious murmur rose through the crowd, and Queen Edith rose slowly and straightened, turning to the head of the knightly order.
Sir Alister Sterling immediately signaled his men. The knights of the Green Order, heavy armor clanking, encircled Magister Kyle and his guards and forced them to lay down their weapons. Kyle did not resist, he only leaned heavily on his guard's shoulder, wiping dark blood from his lips. His breathing was hoarse, his eyes glazed from the strain on his own body.
"Carry the girl to the infirmary at the castle. Ensure she has a full guard" — the queen turned to Sir Alister.
"No one but the Archiater is to come near her. Magister Kyle — to the northern tower, pending an investigation into his research."
The knights took the unconscious body of Aris and were already moving to carry her toward the Upper City, when suddenly Selma came out of the crowd to Elara's cry, ignoring the sentries' orders, walking slowly toward the horse.
"El...en... m...my boy... Elen..." — Selma said in a trembling, breaking voice, stretching out her no less trembling hands toward the horse her son had ridden into that hell.
Edith turned, took in the scene, and with a gesture of her hand ordered the guards not to interfere.
Selma barely touched the horse with her fingertips, one hand covering her mouth, which was holding back broken cries full of horror and pain, while tears ran down her face and her arm.
"My child... my baby... no... no... no no no..." — the shattered mother said through her palm, sliding into hysteria.
"Where... WHERE... WHERE IS MY BOY?! GIVE ME BACK MY SON!" — Selma began screaming aloud, and Bernard immediately broke toward her, trying to hold her back as she lunged toward the unconscious body of Aris lying in the arms of one of the knights.
"Selma! Selma stop!" — Bernard shouted, fighting to keep hold of her.
Then Selma, eyes wide and full of shock and terror, turned toward the open gates, beyond which the towering trees of the Great Forest were visible in the distance. She began reaching her hand in that direction, trying to slowly move toward it, while Bernard still held her firmly in place.
"Elen... my boy... Elen please... come back, son... Elen.... ELEN!" — she screamed again in hysterics, fighting to break free from the blacksmith's grip.
"Let me go! I have to bring him back! I have to bring back my son! Let me go!" — she raged, beating at him with her hands.
"Selma! Please! Stop! Selma he's already gone! Selma!" — Bernard called back, struggling to hold her.
He looked at Elara, who stood white as a sheet, covering her mouth with both hands, eyes full of tears, while I held Leo pressed against me.
When Bernard finally managed to hold Selma, already broken-voiced and spent, she slowly sank to her knees, and Bernard with her.
Her head fell limp against his shoulder, sobbing loudly into his leather vest. The blacksmith held her tightly, fighting to contain his own feelings, but his eyes held the same horror and grief that was tearing at my chest.
Unable to watch, I turned my head away and closed my eyes, clenching my teeth hard, and then looked at Edith, whose gaze was fixed on the grieving mother. The queen's face was dark and full of silent fury, her fists clenched tight.
She turned her head slowly toward Magister Kyle, who was also watching Selma, but feeling that furious gaze, he looked up at Edith.
"Pray it does not turn out that this is all your fault."
The queen turned and walked away, and with her the column of guards moved into the city, drawing the detainees and the wounded along with them.
The murmur of the crowd swelled, becoming a rumble of panic.
Bernard exhaled heavily, his jaw clamped shut, and that evening the festival in Ockhaven went still. The setting sun sank below the horizon, and the long shadows from the city's white walls turned black.
---
When we returned to the Merry Ploughman, Bernard carefully handed Selma over to Elara's care. The tavern hall stood in dead silence. People sat at the tables, but no one drank and no one ate. Everyone stared at the empty bar, where just this morning a mother had bustled about, waiting for her son. I went up to my room and sat on the edge of the bed, feeling the old mattress sag beneath me.
From below came almost no sound at all. The tavern hall, still filled with shouts and laughter the night before, now felt like a crypt.
I thought of Selma's face on her knees at Bernard's side, and of the way Queen Edith Valdrich had looked at Magister Kyle.
The wounded girl's words about the creature that had carried out the slaughter would not leave my mind, accompanied by a mix of fear and, strangely, curiosity as well.
I closed my eyes, trying to bring order to what I had seen, but images of the panic at the gates and the bloody cuts on the foreigner's uniform flared behind my eyelids.
The city had gone still, waiting for a dawn that promised to be cold.