Eagle's Path

1. Flight

Iolair swooped down over the trees and Aiden clung to her feathers, the wind whipping through him, stealing his breath. He marvelled at the hugeness of the sky, the horizon stretching away for miles. The mountainside raced below them, the jagged tops of the pines giving way to bare stone cliffs. So little time had passed since the morning, yet it felt like days since he had made the steep ascent to the fortress of Cairn Ban, climbing in through the tumbledown stone.

So much had happened. He had almost died.

Aiden, what’s going on? said Iolair. Where’s Falkor?

Falkor? I... I don’t know. Aiden’s mind flashed back to the last time he had seen the wizard, bright runes flying between him and Dageny. He stayed behind to fight Dageny, to let the rest of us escape.

The rest of you? said Iolair. The confusion in her voice sent a wave of terror through Aiden’s body. She had no idea who he was talking about. Which meant she had not seen the Eagle Riders. Which meant...

The Eagle Riders, said Aiden desperately. Haven’t you seen them? Seen them? No, said Iolair. The only friendly person I’ve seen is you. And Erin? Aiden asked, her name tasting bitter in his mouth.

Isn’t she back at camp? said Iolair.

A snort of laughter escaped Aiden’s lips. No. She followed me in. And stupidly, I let her.The thoughts he had been holding back came crashing in on him. He had unwittingly led the Princess of Teraan into the midst of danger. He remembered Arthur’s anger and disappointment, Erin’s voice echoing, he doesn’t know, and then Falkor’s judgment, How can I trust you... How do I know you’re not Brathadair?

Aiden, it’s not your fault, said Iolair, her voice soft.

No? said Aiden. Because I didn’t know who she was? According to Falkor that doesn’t excuse it.

What do you mean? said Iolair.

Aiden halted in his tirade of angry thoughts. "Did you know Erin was Princess Serineth?"

The Princess? said Iolair, her beak snapping at the words. No.

So Aiden was not the only one who had been deceived.

They continued in silence, Iolair flying low over their campsite from the night before. Apart from the horses under the trees and the small bundle of bags tucked in between the boulders, the place was empty.

They must still be inside the fortress, said Aiden, his voice tight. We have to go back.

We will, said Iolair, with a screech. Aiden felt her shift beneath him, her wings flexing and cutting into the wind as she turned back towards Cairn Ban.

The fortress perched at the top of a jutting crag, the battlements rising seamlessly from the steep face of the cliff. It was almost inaccessible except for the single winding road leading up from the forest. Inside, rubble lay strewn between ruinous buildings, yet with the veil of dark magic now lifted, the newly built lookouts and fortifications of the Brathadair were clear to see. As they neared, Aiden spied movement at the gates at the top of the mountain road.

It’s them, he cried, pointing. His balance shifted and he tipped forward, his stomach lurching. A dizzying glimpse of the ground below filled his vision. His hands scrabbled through thin air until he caught a handful of feathers, jerking to a halt.

Iolair screeched. Careful, Aiden!

I’m sorry, he said, clinging to her as he righted himself. His heart beat double time.

Iolair swooped lower, those on the road below lifting their heads, shading their eyes against the bright sky. It was Leif and Maire, and between them, Erin. A short distance behind them the Riders, Arthur, Sigurd, Svana, and Astrith, fought hand to hand with a group of Brathadair soldiers.

I hope you have a weapon, Iolair said.

Aiden clutched at his belt. I have my sword.

Well, I’m about to charge them, said Iolair, tucking her wings closer to her sides.

With one hand still buried in Iolair’s feathers, Aiden clumsily drew his sword, holding the blade as high as he could. Iolair did not slow. She flew straight as an arrow towards those fighting at the gate. At the last moment she spread her wings wide, her claws extending. Aiden gripped tight with his knees, his muscles straining as he tried to keep his balance.

The Riders jumped to the side as Iolair dived towards them. Her talons tore into one of the Brathadair, lifting him off his feet. Aiden leaned over, trying to hit another with his sword. His balance shifted again, and he frantically flattened himself against Iolair’s back. The sword slipped from his grasp and fell to the ground with a clang. Iolair twisted, trying to right herself as the Brathadair soldier knocked her one way, while Aiden pulled her the other. She beat her wings furiously and rose back into the sky.

You don’t make it easy, do you, she said.

Trembling, Aiden clutched her feathers. I lost my sword.

Iolair circled above the fight. The wind ruffled her feathers, catching on a few that had been misplaced in the attack. Her head flicked back and forth, her yellow eyes intent on the battle below.

On the ground Arthur lunged at the soldiers, landing a heavy blow that sent one of the Brathadair staggering backwards. Sigurd sliced at another, once, twice, three times in quick succession. The Brathadair soldier dropped, unmoving. Sigurd picked something up and held it aloft, shouting, Aiden.

The glint of Eadha on the steel blade caught Aiden’s eye. It was his sword.

Are you ready? said Iolair, banking into the wind and angling back towards the fight.

Aiden tucked his knees tight against Iolair’s sides and grabbed a handful of feathers. Iolair swooped low, although not as fast as her initial charge. Suddenly, Aiden realised she was not heading towards the fight, but towards Sigurd, who still held the sword, hilt first to the sky. Aiden gulped. They wanted him to grab it mid air.

There was no time to protest. Aiden leaned to the right, letting his head and shoulders dip down through the gap between Iolair’s head and wing. Iolair blinked at him, her eye almost level with his own.

Don’t miss and don’t fall, she said.

Aiden gave a stuttering laugh. No pressure then.

With a roar, the Brathadair charged, Arthur, Astrith, and Svana rising to meet them, the clang of metal echoing off the stony cliffs.

Quick! Sigurd shouted, glancing over his shoulder, his body poised to move. Behind him, a Brathadair soldier knocked Svana to the ground.

Aiden reached down, palm open. He blocked out the noise of the fight and fixed his gaze on Sigurd’s raised arm. The sword seemed to rush towards him, swaying dangerously above the fray. He stretched out his hand and his fingers closed around the hilt. Instantly Iolair wheeled up and, with a great gust of wind, shot forwards towards Svana. Her talons ripped through the soldier attacking her. Aiden pulled himself up and drew in a shaky breath.

Iolair circled back to the Riders. Get out of here, she cried. Aiden and I will cover you.

Arthur grunted, pushing back a soldier. Where’s Serineth? he shouted up to them.

Iolair circled again, and Aiden craned his neck, eyes scanning the mountain road. Three figures dwindled away ahead of them. Iolair swooped back to the Eagle Rider Captain.

She’s almost at the trees, Aiden called.

Good, said Arthur, turning back to their enemy. Now, to finish this.

There were ten of the Brathadair left, although Aiden had no idea how many more were still skulking in the halls of the fortress. The soldiers had pulled back slightly after Iolair’s assault, but were quickly regrouping. Their Sergeant stood at the centre of the line, sword in one hand, the glow of a rune in the other. He smirked, his eyes glinting a challenge. The rest of the Brathadair raised more runes in their hands.

Arthur shifted his stance, planting his feet firmly beneath him. He lifted his chin proudly. We have been their captives for so long, they forget we are Eagle Riders. Arthur drew a combination of runes, Nuin, the spear, Peith, the thunderbolt, and Uath, dread.

The Captain of the Eagle Riders raised his hand, runelight shining around it, and threw it forwards, releasing the runes. They jumped and arced across the distance, beautiful beams of gold and silver. Beautiful, but deadly. The Brathadair Sergeant leapt backwards, but the soldier nearest to him was not so lucky. He slumped to the ground, unconscious.

After the initial shot, the Brathadair retaliated, throwing their runes in unison towards the Eagle Riders. Arthur, Astrith, Sigurd, and Svana moved as one, jointly wielding Fearn, the shield. A golden sphere shimmered around them. The first of the runes bounced harmlessly away, but as the onslaught continued, the glowing shield surrounding them began to wane.

Iolair swooped low towards the Brathadair.This time instead of trying to wield his sword, Aiden drew Peith, the thunderbolt, and Teine, fire, cupping their shining forms in his hand until they were close. Iolair crashed into the Brathadair line, her talons ripping through anything she could catch. Aiden leaned close against her feathers, knuckles whitening as he fought to keep his place on her back, trying not to lose the runes he had drawn. Finally Iolair lifted up again, and Aiden reached out, shooting the runes past her wings. Peith and Teine thundered down, bursting into flames as they hit the ground by the Brathadair’s feet.

Aiden grinned shakily as the Brathadair staggered back. Iolair circled around to the Eagle Riders, but as they approached, the Riders’ shield dropped, Svana falling down onto one knee, holding a hand to her head. The others lifted their hands, as if shielding their eyes from a bright light. Aiden frowned. What was wrong? They were Eagle Riders. Even outnumbered this should not be a hard fight for them. Theirs was the most powerful magic in the kingdom. Unless...

The Brathadair had caught the Eagle Riders before. They had subdued their power once, maybe they could do it again.

Arthur stepped to the fore and sent another rune shooting towards the Brathadair leader. The Sergeant dodged, but this time he dodged forwards, in the same motion drawing a rune of his own. The rune flickered angrily, not the weak flickering of a dying candle, but the unsettled flickering of an immense power trying to break free from its bonds. Every few seconds sharp sparks burst into the air. The rune looked like Nuin, the spear, but there was something off about it, like it had been drawn through a haze of murky water with the lines all wrong. Aiden’s stomach roiled. It reminded him of the heavy chains that had held him captive in the fortress.

Arthur drew Nuin, the spear, and sent it shooting forwards at the same moment the Sergeant released his own rune, a brittle, sparking ball of light. The two runes collided, drawn together by some unseen force.

For a moment time stopped.The runes crackled against each other momentarily before popping out of existence. An empty silence fell, as if all sound had been sucked into the runes. As Aiden’s ears began ringing, a blinding light burst from the spot where the runes had been, consuming everything in a wave of white. Seconds later, though it could have been hours, a gust of hot wind swept out in all directions, knocking down any who stood in its path.

It blew Iolair backwards, her wings straining to keep them upright. Below, the Eagle Riders fell to the ground, their tattered clothes flapping around them. The Brathadair were knocked back in the other direction. Their Sergeant, who had been closest to the blast, slammed into the verge of the road and did not move again.

In the wake of the blast, Aiden’s mind reeled. What was this magic? How had Nuin, the spear, caused such an explosion? Never before had he feared the runes, but now unease stirred in his chest.

Iolair circled over their fallen enemies. Most lay still, unconscious or dead, Aiden could not be sure. Only one or two groaned and rolled over, attempting to shuffle away as Iolair’s shadow passed over them. Aiden leaned forward, holding his breath as they drew close to the Riders.

Astrith was the first to rise, crawling on her knees to her Captain’s side and shaking him by the shoulders. He did not stir. Sigurd climbed to his feet and stood between the fallen Rider and the enemy. With a shaky hand he kept his sword raised, but the Brathadair remained prone on the ground.

Astrith drew Ur, the renewer, and placed it lightly on Arthur’s forehead. After a few seconds, he started and lifted his head, eyes racing from side to side. His hands searched for a weapon, but Astrith placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.

They are defeated for now, she said quietly.

We should go before they regain their strength, said Sigurd.

Arthur nodded, accepting Astrith’s help to his feet.

Iolair swooped down, perching next to them on the road. Aiden sheathed his sword but stayed in position on Iolair’s back.

Have you seen the Eagles? said Arthur.

Iolair shook her head slowly.

Arthur’s brow creased, the muscles in his jaw tightening. He gently placed a hand on Iolair’s beak. Find them if you can. We must go after Serineth before any more Brathadair come.

Iolair gave a screech and instantly spread her wings, lifting them into the air.

Aiden— Arthur began, but the rest of his words were lost amidst the wind of Iolair’s wingbeats. Aiden leaned forward, but all he could make out was the frown on Arthur’s face.

Whatever it was,it can wait,said Iolair,sensing Aiden straining back towards the Riders. It’s time to find my father.

They flew upwards, straight and fast, the grey rock of the cliffs racing beneath them. As they moved further round the mountain Aiden caught sight of winged shapes in the air, wheeling around a jagged opening in the rock. Their flight was clumsy, dropping suddenly only to twist again in the other direction. A golden feather floated past him on the breeze.

Why don’t they fly away? said Aiden, remembering the weakened state of the Eagles in the cave, the skin and bone visible through the gaps in their feathers. It was a miracle they could fly at all.

They won’t leave without their Riders, said Iolair.

Of course, thought Aiden, but if they could barely fly themselves, how were they going to fly four Riders out with them?

Iolair dropped suddenly, Aiden’s stomach lurching into his mouth, the wooden shaft of an arrow zipping by above his head. Aiden clutched at Iolair, shoulders hunching even as he craned his neck, trying to see where the next arrow was coming from. Through the flapping of the Eagles above, Aiden saw movement on the cliff, Riders fighting Brathadair in the cave.

Hold on, said the Eagle. I may have to move quickly.

Okay, said Aiden, reaching for the sword at his belt.

Don’t bother with that, said Iolair. I doubt we’ll be close enough to the enemy, and I’d rather you didn’t hit me with it. Stick with the runes, you’re better at those anyway.

Aiden shuddered. He was not sure if he wanted to use the runes after what had happened to Arthur. But Iolair was already zooming towards the battle, and the runes might be his only defence.

As they neared the battle, Aiden saw the shape of a person jump from the cliff, flinging themselves far out into the air. They fell for a second, arms outspread until an Eagle swooped underneath them. They landed heavily, the Eagle dropping a good few feet before catching itself. Iolair rushed towards them, Aiden ducking his head as she pushed herself directly underneath the floundering Eagle.

It was enough. The Eagle’s talons pushed into them, one digging into Aiden’s back, the other pressing into Iolair’s wing joint. The Eagle was Kanook, and on his back Halvard clung on, arms wrapped around his Eagle’s neck, his body shaking.

Thanks, said Kanook, righting himself, but even still his wings flapped overtime to keep them in the air.

Another golden Eagle joined them, buffeting gusts of wind into Aiden’s face.

Father, Iolair screeched.

Daughter, said Jormandar. It is good to see your beak.

Iolair kii-ed something in her own language, and although Aiden did not understand her words, he recognised the relief in her call. Aiden hoped it would not be too long before he felt that same relief upon the rescue of his own parents.

Help the others, said Jormandar. I will get Kanook and Halvard to the ground.

Iolair wheeled around. Arthur awaits in the forest.

Above them, the rest of the Eagles circled around the entrance to the cave in the cliff. On the rocky ledge stood Mathias, Anca, and Johann. They fought hand to hand with two Brathadair soldiers, ducking often as archers shot arrows from further back in the tunnel. Petrana, Anca’s Eagle, hunched at the edge of the ledge, screeching angrily as arrows shot past her.

Why doesn’t she fly? Aiden shouted to Iolair.

Her wing looks wrong, said Iolair. I don’t think she can.

How... Aiden began, but his words were lost amidst the scream of a Brathadair soldier as Mathias knocked him from the cliff. Aiden gulped and kept his eyes up. He did not want to see the man’s fate. It was too close to what might have been after his own jump to escape Dageny. What if Iolair had not been there to save him?

With the cliff edge now clear, Mathias and Johann rushed forwards, charging the Brathadair archers at the far end of the cave. Anca darted to Petrana’s side. Her hand waved in the air, a tiny spark of runelight making a trail in the wake of her fingers, but it was too thin, too weak. It faded before it was even finished. Anca gave an anguished cry.

Fly closer, Iolair, said Aiden. He could see Anca was trying to draw Beith, the healer, but something, injury, exhaustion, or that strange oppressive power was stopping her.

On Iolair’s back Aiden crouched, drawing his feet up and underneath him.

Are you sure, Aiden? said Iolair.

Just get me close enough, said Aiden.

Iolair swooped towards the cave, her wingtips entering its shadow. Aiden jumped, tumbling onto the stony ground. He rolled onto his feet and looked around. At the back of the cave, Mathias and Johann gave battle to the Brathadair. They cut down the first two archers, kicking away the bows and broken arrows. More soldiers quickly filled the void, swords and spears drawn. Anca cried out again in frustration, and Aiden hastened to her side.

Tell me what to do, he said.

Can you draw Beith? said Anca, her eyes searching his. Petrana’s wing is broken.

Aiden nodded. He had not used Beith often, wary of the dangers of not using it properly. He had once healed a cut in his brother’s arm with a large splinter still inside. His father had not been happy about having to cut Andor’s arm open again to remove it properly.

As if she saw the turmoil in his eyes, Anca covered his hand with hers. Just draw and think of wholeness, she said. I will draw with you and try to direct the rune.

They moved their hands together, the bright shape of Beith, the healer, floating in the air before them. Its glow seemed warm against the cold stone. Anca directed the rune and it fell onto Petrana’s wing, soaking into the bloodied feathers. Petrana flexed her wing, eyes narrowing.

I don’t know if it will be enough, Petrana said, a quiet whine escaping her beak as she spoke.

A shout sounded from further inside the cave, a cry of pain that overwhelmed Petrana’s. Aiden’s head whipped up. Only Mathias was still on his feet, dragging Johann along the cave floor towards them. Aiden stood to help them but was knocked down by a gust of wind as an Eagle shot past him into the cave.

It was Arvid. The Eagle hooked his talons into his Rider’s shirt and pulled. Mathias whirled around just as the Brathadair reached them. He parried one blow, then two, then the enemy’s blade caught his arm, slicing straight through skin and bone.

Aiden, back on his feet, drew Eadha, the wind, and sent it hurtling down the tunnel. It passed Mathias and whipped apart, blowing the Brathadair soldiers to the ground, tossing some against the walls and knocking others completely head over heels. Aiden froze momentarily, staring past his hand to the carnage he had caused. He had never thrown something so powerful before.

Get out of here, Mathias shouted, his voice tight with pain.

Go, said Anca, echoing him, pointing Aiden towards the open sky.

Aiden turned to the cliff edge. Iolair swooped close, as if she had been watching for this moment. Aiden froze, the image of the falling Brathadair man overtaking his mind. Iolair flew past, her eyes searching his. He had jumped last time, after facing Dageny, not knowing if he would survive. Why was this so much harder?

Iolair swooped close again. Anca was at his shoulder, her hand gripping him. Ready? she whispered.

Aiden did not have time to nod before she pushed him. Somehow his legs obeyed,and he sprang forwards off the cliff.There was one sickening moment when there was nothing but air around him, then Iolair’s steady form was underneath him and he buried his fingers into her feathers.

As soon as they were out of the way, Arvid took off, the limp form of Johann clutched in his talons. A great gash scored the Rider’s chest from neck to waist, blood dripping along his dangling arm and into the air. He barely moved, his eyes closed. Aiden wondered if Johann was already dead. Behind them Korak swept in, and Anca gave Mathias a push as he jumped onto the back of his Eagle.

Two arrows shot out of the cave behind them, crackling with the same unnatural light as the rune that had exploded on the road below. Korak swerved, but the arrows sailed on and straight into Arvid’s back. Aiden expected another great explosion, but it did not come. Arvid screeched and twisted only for a third arrow to hit him in the neck. Aiden watched helplessly as the light within Arvid’s eyes grew dim. One moment the Eagle was fighting and the next he was not. His wings went limp, his body floating and twisting as the wind took him. Arvid’s talons came loose, unable to keep hold of his precious Rider. They both dropped, Johann with his tattered clothes flapping around him, Arvid upside down, his wings trailing behind him.

Aiden closed his eyes, unable to watch the inevitable moment when they would hit the ground.There was no way they could survive such a fall.The stunned silence was broken with a great cacophony as the Eagles screeched as one. Aiden felt the sound reverberating through Iolair’s body.

In the cave, the Brathadair archers reached the entrance, but before they could shoot, Anca dived upon them, wrenching the bow from one man’s grasp. They wrestled for a moment until a second soldier came, tipping the balance away from Anca. Her eyes widened as she was grabbed from behind and thrust off the edge of the cliff.

No! Aiden cried, hardly able to fathom losing another Rider in such quick succession.

But the Brathadair had not counted on an Eagle’s rage. Petrana burst forwards, spreading wide her wings. She crashed through the two soldiers, sweeping them off the cliff with her. She dropped, tucking her wings tightly to her sides as she sped after her Rider. In an instant Iolair was following. Aiden hunched low against her back, his eyes watering as the wind scoured his face.

Petrana reached Anca, spreading her wings quickly underneath her Rider, the tops of the trees looming dangerously close. Anca collided with Petrana, causing the Eagle to give a screech of pain. Her right wing folded, unable to bear the strain. Iolair spread her wings above them and reached out her feet. Anca lifted her hands, fingers grasping Iolair’s talons, even as they continued to fall. Petrana banked, twisting her body away from the sharp top of a pine tree.

Iolair’s muscles bunched as she took the strain of an extra person. She furiously beat at the air. Out of the corner of his eye Aiden saw Petrana descend among the trees, wings amok, her body tumbling as she hit the ground.

Let me down, Anca cried, twisting to see where her Eagle had landed.

Iolair swooped low, letting Anca drop just above the ground. Anca ran away into the trees before Iolair herself landed. Iolair came to a stop, using her wings to slow them. Her chest heaved in deep breaths and Aiden could feel her muscles quivering underneath him.

Aiden looked at his own white-knuckled hands, still buried in the Eagle’s feathers. His mouth felt too dry to speak. He slid from Iolair’s back, his knees buckling as his feet touched the ground. He reached up a hand to the soft feathers of Iolair’s underside. She inclined her head, nuzzling her beak gently through Aiden’s hair. They had both survived, together, and somehow no words were adequate to express the mixture of relief, fear, and sorrow that was laced between them.

2. Lost

Branwyn dropped to her knees, utterly spent. She heaved in a breath, fingers digging into the soft ground, trying to stop them shaking. Tendrils of her dark, curling hair hung down in front of her face. She closed her eyes, listening to the rustling of feet, the panting for breath, and the quiet voices. With each moment, the stillness around her grew more tangible. No clanging of swords, no cries of pain and terror, no pounding feet, no whistling arrows.

Safe.

She was safe.

A gentle hand squeezed her shoulder. She turned, looking up into Tristan’s brown eyes.

Are you okay?

She reached out a hand, and Tristan pulled her to her feet, drawing her in close. Branwyn wrapped her arms around him and rested her cheek on the hard plating of his armour.

We made it, Branwyn whispered.

Well, said Tristan. We’ve escaped into the depths of the forest. I’m hoping this isn’t the end of our journey.

Branwyn lifted her head and rolled her eyes at him. The corner of his mouth curled into a grin.

Where do you think the Fae are taking us? said Branwyn, looking about while keeping one arm around Tristan. Amidst the towering trunks of trees, the people of Torelia sat or stood, some holding tightly onto one another, others dressing wounds, most breathing heavily, eyes drooping in relief.

Scattered amongst them were the Fae, their woodland garb blending into the trees and heather. They did not look much different from the woodsmen Branwyn had seen back in Teraan City, except that their eyes were pale and bright. They moved silently among the trees, more a part of the forest than beings moving through it.

Tristan shrugged. You’ve spoken to them more than I have.

They said they would take us to sanctuary, said Branwyn, recalling her conversation with Hotah Ahote, their Chief. She had not seen the Fae man with the silver fur ruff since she fled the battle.

It’s been years since anyone has visited the Fae, said Tristan. Sanctuary could mean anywhere.

Do you trust them? said Branwyn.

Tristan tilted his head to one side, surveying them. If they meant us harm, they’d have left us to the Brathadair. That doesn’t mean I trust them. I don’t think I’ve heard any story of the Fae where there wasn’t some sort of deception or trickery involved.

Branwyn gulped. She did not want to remember how close she had come to death, nor did she want the illusion of their safety to be broken so soon.

Come, she said, tugging Tristan around. Let’s get Andor and see if we can find some food.

Branwyn looked around, eyes scanning the crowd for the familiar form of her young cousin. She saw members of the Torelian Guard, Odmund the swordmaster, grizzled and battle-worn, she saw men and women, refugees from Faraig and Darrogie, she saw children, but none had the same tousled head of mousy brown hair.

Andor, she called, causing heads to turn towards her. Someone shushed her with an angry look.

Not so loud, said Tristan. We may have escaped, but we still have to be careful. The Brathadair could be following us.

Branwyn bit back another shout. Andor’s name burned on her lips. Where was he? Do you see him anywhere? she asked Tristan.

Tristan shook his head. He can’t be far. You go that direction and I’ll go this. Meet back here in a few minutes.

Branwyn turned and wove her way through the crowd. People glanced up at her as she passed, their faces haggard. Some had red-rimmed eyes, like they had been crying.

A little further on Branwyn caught sight of a familiar figure and rushed forwards. Anniina turned in surprise as Branwyn approached, her long grey hair held back by a blue cloth around her head. In her hands she held a small stone bowl and a spoon, some herbal mixture within.

Is Andor with you? Branwyn asked before the healer had a chance to speak.

Anniina put down her bowl and wiped her hands on her dress. I’m afraid not, she said. I haven’t seen him since we left the caves.

Branwyn sucked in a breath. I can’t find him anywhere.

And you know he left the battlefield? said Anniina, her eyes searching Branwyn’s face.

Yes, said Branwyn, her brows creasing. He was with me when the Fae came. And when we started running. He was right beside me.

But you can’t remember where you last saw him? said the healer.

Branwyn put her hands to the sides of her face. We ran for such a long time. I lost track. I... I don’t remember when I last saw him.

Anniina gave a small smile. Don’t fret, girl. If he was running, he’s not been left behind.

Branwyn nodded, telling herself the healer’s words were true. I have to keep looking, she said. She moved on between the trees, heather scratching her ankles. There were fewer people here, and those who were seemed more alert. They watched her warily, hands fingering their weapons.

A Fae woman stepped out in front of Branwyn. She too wore fur across her shoulders, a short brown cape hanging down her back. She carried a sleek bow across her chest, and a bone-handled knife dangled from her belt.

Where are you going? the Fae woman asked.

I’m looking for my cousin, said Branwyn. He’s called Andor. He’s only twelve.

The Fae’s pale eyes blinked. They were blue, but it was an ethereal blue, a soft light emanating from behind them. None of your people are beyond this point, she said.

But— Branwyn began.

The Fae interrupted her. Our eyes are sharp. We have left no one behind. Branwyn inclined her head. The Fae’s words brooked no argument. She turned around and made her way back to Tristan. Maybe he had found Andor already and they were both waiting for her. Branwyn forced her feet to move faster, ignoring the tight and painful twinges in her muscles.

Tristan was waiting in the clearing where she had left him, the tall, red-bearded figure of Rook next to him. They turned quickly at her approach, eyes searching the forest behind her. Branwyn’s eyes widened. Andor was not with them.

Did you not find him? said Branwyn.

"Did you not find him?" Tristan replied.

Branwyn gulped. I went as far as I could before the Fae sent me back.

Rook and I went as far as we could, said Tristan.

I’ve asked everyone who might have recognised him, said Rook. Some remember him running, but no one has seen him here.

Branwyn bit her lip. The Fae said they left no one behind.

Rook folded his arms. The Fae are not all powerful. They could have missed someone, especially someone as small as Andor.

What do we do? said Branwyn.

Tristan put his hand on her shoulder. We’ll find him, he said firmly.

Branwyn, why don’t you go and sit with Signy for a while, said Rook. Tristan and I will arrange with the Fae to make a wider search for Andor.

Branwyn’s eyes narrowed and she shook her head. No, I’m coming with you. Tristan opened his mouth to protest, but Branwyn held up a hand. Don’t bother arguing with me.

You need to rest, Bran, said Rook.

No, said Branwyn, firmly, pushing away the part of her that told her Rook’s words were true. I need to find Andor.

Tristan shook his head. Come on, then.

Rook raised his eyebrows, but he made no further comment. The three of them walked to the edge of the gathering and were promptly met by a Fae huntsman. You should stay with the group, said the Fae, his pale eyes watching them warily.

One of our group is missing, said Rook, stepping forward before Branwyn or Tristan could say anything. He’s only a boy. We have to go and look for him.

The Fae tilted his head to the side. The scouts have seen no one.

Nevertheless, we will search for him, said Rook.

I cannot vouch for your safety if you leave here, said the Fae.

Rook gave a grunt that might have been a laugh. We are members of the Feather Guard. We can vouch for our own safety.

The Fae inclined his head, not seeming to take offence at Rook’s words. Then you should not tarry long. We will move on within the hour and we will not wait for you.

Rook nodded. As long as you keep on this southerly course we’ll catch up.

South. Southwest, said the Fae vaguely, waving his hand back and forth. It would be better if you returned in time. It is easy to lose your way in the deep woods, even for a Torelian Feather Guard such as yourself.

Then we’d best get moving, said Tristan, moving past Rook into the forest. Branwyn followed him closely. The thought of becoming separated from Tristan scared her more than becoming separated from the rest of the Fae and Torelians.

Rook paused, and Tristan gave him a puzzled look.

I’ll catch you up, said Rook. I should tell Signy where we’re going.

Branwyn and Tristan set off into the woods without him. Tristan unbuckled a small sheath from his belt. The scabbard held a dagger. Take this, he said, pressing it into Branwyn’s hands.

Branwyn closed her fingers around it and silently buckled it onto her own belt.

Spread out, said Tristan, pushing her gently away from him. But stay within sight.

Do you think I’m going to run off on you? said Branwyn as she moved away between the trees. She kept her eyes trained on the forest floor, scanning every bush and hollow for signs of movement.

We’re in the deep forest now, Bran, said Tristan. The Fae aren’t the only Sidhe out here.

Branwyn gulped, her eyes flicking towards him. She had been trying not to think about that, but the threat of Cu-Sidhe or Wulvers was all too real out here in the wilds. The heather rustled behind them. Branwyn wondered if the forest could hear their words and was playing tricks on them. She twirled quickly, but it was only Rook catching them up.

They walked onwards, keeping swathes of forest between them, but never enough that they lost sight of each other. Branwyn took the central line, with Tristan away to her right and Rook on her left. They spoke little, the quiet swish of the heather the only noise amidst the trees. Occasionally they heard a twig snap in the distance or the rummaging of some unseen creature. Each time Branwyn’s breath caught, hoping against hope it was Andor, while her mind conjured images of Brathadair soldiers lying in wait. Each time it was nothing. Sometimes they called Andor’s name, but they fell silent again quickly. Anything could be listening.

They walked for half an hour until Tristan angled his steps back towards Branwyn. Rook did the same and soon they were gathered together under the branches of a tall red-barked pine tree. Branwyn’s brow creased as they approached, her eyes pleading.

We can’t stop now, she said, her voice catching in her throat.

If we don’t turn around now, we’ll be left behind, said Tristan.

But, Rook— Branwyn began.

Rook held up a hand to stop her. I know I said we could catch up, but I agree with the Fae. It would be better if we were back before they left. This is a big forest.

And what about Andor? How is he supposed to find us? said Branwyn.

Rook did not reply. The big man looked at the ground and rubbed the back of his neck.

Tristan took Branwyn’s hand. She stared at him, her eyes swelling with tears. She knew what he was about to say. She snatched her hand back. Don’t say it. He’s not dead. I know he’s not.

Tristan’s eyes flashed and she saw his jaw muscles tighten. "Alright. But if we also want to stay not dead, then we should go back."

Branwyn felt a tiny twinge of guilt. She should not take out her fear and anger on him. It was not his fault.

Tristan nodded his head in the direction they had come from. Come on.

Branwyn knew he was right, but her feet stayed frozen on the spot. It felt too much like giving up. Like leaving Andor behind.

Tristan stepped over to her and pressed a hand on her back, forcing her to move. Andor’s strong and he’s resourceful.

Reluctantly Branwyn allowed her feet to move, but she gazed back over her shoulder. Tristan remained directly behind her, his hand between her shoulders, pushing her onwards. Branwyn stumbled over a root at her feet. Tristan caught her, even as he almost tumbled over her.

Do I have to pick you up and carry you? he said. He tried to keep his voice firm, but Branwyn heard the hint of a smile breaking through.

No, she sighed.

They picked up their pace, and Branwyn sensed an urgency in the two men beside her. They did not want to be lost in the forest alone, despite their brave words. As they neared the place where the Torelians had been, a sinking feeling formed in Branwyn’s stomach. They should have seen someone by now, but all around them the woods were empty. All three of them rushed forward. The only signs left of the group were their footprints pressed into the ground amidst the trampled heather.

They’ve gone, said Rook. He looked up. The sky was growing dim. It would not be an easy trail to follow in the dark.

Suddenly, a person stepped out from behind a tree. Or had he been standing so still they had not seen him? It was the Fae huntsman who had warned them against straying too far.

This way, he said, pointing a hand in the direction the Torelians had taken.

I thought you said you weren’t going to wait, said Rook, as he approached the Fae.

The Fae’s mouth gave the tiniest twitch of a smile before he turned and guided them further into the forest.

3. Princess and Powerless

Erin paced the small clearing in the forest, brushing off Maire and Leif’s attempts to calm her. What was happening to the others? Why were they taking so long? She pressed her hands into fists. It was her fault. They were all going to die, and it was her fault. Erin stopped pacing, running her fingers through her hair until she had gathered handfuls that tugged against her scalp. Tears pricked her eyes, and she blinked rapidly, telling herself she would not cry.

You should let me look at that, said Maire, gently brushing Erin’s hair away from her neck.

It’s fine, said Erin, dropping her hands and pulling her hair forward again. It was not fine really. She could still feel the grip of Dageny’s runes, the stickiness of blood, and the tight, dull ache of the bruises that no doubt circled her neck like a chain. She could not face Maire’s sympathy. What must the Rider think of her? A silly girl who thought herself clever and put everyone in danger.

Let her look, said Leif, his voice soft but stern.

Erin’s eyes flicked towards him. She could hear reproach in his voice. She brushed her hair back, wincing as she tilted her neck to the side. Maire’s fingers moved softly over her wounds, the bruises tingling in their wake.

You’ll be sore for a few days, said Maire. How are you otherwise?

Erin neatly folded her arms. She met Maire’s gaze. I’m fine, she said again. She held her stare until Maire backed down. The Eagle Riders may be far wiser and stronger and more powerful than she, but Erin was still their Princess. She had no obligation to answer any of their questions.

Maire patted her once on the shoulder before turning her attention to Leif.The old Rider was sitting on the ground, his head bowed, straggly white hair hanging limply over his ears. Erin watched as Maire gently examined one of his injuries. Guilt stabbed through her chest. Leif looked so frail. Thin and spent. His clothes were ragged, his skin cut and bruised far beyond her own injuries. She should have thought of him before now.

Erin pulled a blanket out of her pack and brought it to Leif, draping it over his shoulders. The old Rider drew it closer and patted her hand. Thank you, my dear. He smiled and Erin felt some of her worry ease. He might be frail, but the light in his eyes was as bright as she ever remembered.

Heavy footsteps, approaching fast, crashed through the forest towards them. Erin and Maire drew their swords. Moments later, Arthur and the other Riders burst into the clearing. Svana, leaning heavily on Sigurd’s arm, dropped to the ground next to Leif as soon as they reached him.

Erin kept her sword raised, staring into the forest towards the fortress. Did any follow you?

Arthur shook his head wearily. We have fended them off for the moment, but it will not be long before more come.

We should get ready to move again, and soon, said Sigurd.

The Eagles? said Leif. And the others?

Iolair and Aiden went to help them, said Arthur. We need to focus on getting Serineth as far away from this place as possible.

The other Riders were nodding, but Erin felt a surge of anger rising in her chest.

We’re not going to abandon them for my sake, she said.

Serineth, you’ve already been in too much danger today—

And I put myself in that danger so that the Eagle Riders could be freed, not left behind. She planted her feet firmly on the ground and faced Arthur.

Arthur caught Erin’s arm and pulled her a short distance away from the others. Had it been one of the other Riders, or even Falkor, Erin might have made some protest, but she always felt like she had to defer to Arthur, her father’s closest friend and advisor. Arthur stared at her and although she stared back, he did not look away. Erin swallowed. This would be a small taste of what was to come the next time she stood before her father. Except that her father’s rage would probably be unrestrained.

Serineth, I can’t let anything else happen to you, Arthur said quietly. The concern in his voice surprised her far more than his anger ever could have. If your father knew I had let Dageny get hold of you...

She looked at the ground, unable to hold his gaze any longer. I’m sorry, Arthur. But I couldn’t do nothing... I had to...

Arthur sighed. I don’t think I want to know how you ended up here, let alone how you ended up in there. He pointed up to the fortress. In a way, it doesn’t matter anymore. As long as we can get you safely away from this place. We didn’t open that prison for you to run back into a battle and get caught again.

Erin folded her arms across her chest. You shouldn’t have opened that prison. Not even for me. Erin spoke the words, but she did not really believe them. While the Princess in her knew the consequences of opening Sorcier’s prison were bad, the girl in her was overwhelmingly glad that the Eagle Riders had chosen to save her. She could not bear to think about what Dageny would have done if they had not.

Arthur squeezed her shoulder. You were a factor in our decision to open the prison, Serineth, but not the only one. We would never have opened it if we didn’t think we could face whatever came out.

And what did come out? said Erin.

Arthur hesitated, glancing up at the fortress. That, we are yet to discover. He squeezed her shoulder again. Don’t worry. Whatever it is, we’ll face it.

But as Erin watched him, she saw a flicker of doubt across his face. The ragged man before her was in no state to fight and win. She lifted her eyes, taking in the other Eagle Riders gathered around her. These were the most renowned warriors in the land, people she had known since she was a child. She had only ever felt safe in the presence of the Eagle Riders, but now, at Arthur’s words, her stomach twisted and tightened. She had never seen Leif sit so still, conserving every breath. And Svana had never slumped to the ground like she had just now. Not even after days of travel through the wilds. The renowned warriors Erin had once revered had been stripped away, leaving bare shells with only their determination to survive keeping them walking.

Erin faced Arthur once more. At least let us wait for the others.

He put a hand on her shoulder. We will. But not for long.

Erin crossed the