What Enchantment Hides - Book 1

Chapter 10

         Anohean paced in the courtyard. Hannon had not returned and everyone in Harta knew exactly what that meant. He and all the men with him had been disposed of. Fallon was his direct student. He and Hannon had handcrafted this man into the perfect soldier that he was. The commander had always commented that the man was reckless and unpredictable, but solid. That he was. He took that filthy princess and left. He knew the escaped elf had nothing to do with him, but he blamed him anyway. He was second in command to Hannon before that overconfident rogue should up. He had originally found the princess, he had destroyed Fallon’s village, and he had made Fallon what he was. The rebel was nothing without him. Of course, Hannon took all of the credit for it and told Anohean to leave the matter alone, but everyone knew that Fallon had been his creation. But he would not take responsibility for this. He would give Hannon the credit he so desperately wanted. The commander alone would take the blame for this. The fortress was left with no leadership and many men vying for that office to be theirs. Anohean could do nothing until he had won the men’s respect or obedience. No one would follow him if they thought they were more suited to the task of filling Hannon’s boots.

         Anohean sat in the commander’s chair, looking around the room. Power was an intoxicating drug and no one would go after Fallon and simply default to whoever began the rallying of men to go find him. No. He had to be tactful. He would send out a few of the men who supported him even after Fallon took over second in command from him. They would hunt him while he made a plan. He would have to top the hierarchy and make sure that things immediately ran smoothly. If Fallon was not annihilated soon, he would need men who would easily overpower him just by their very nature. Men like elves. Quickly he wrote an official request to the temple in Dorsha. They could supply him with all the elves he would need. He was sure he could break them in record time and have a small army ready to destroy Fallon before he knew what had happened. Now, he had to focus on demanding the men’s submission and limitless commitment.

         He called in two of his comrades and gave them instructions to find Fallon and that girl, if she was still alive. He would make sure that Fallon paid for what he did and what he took from him. Even if he had to spend the rest of his life, he would hold him accountable and execute him in any way possible.

         A month passed before Calya was ready to begin training again. She was tired, but they made it back to the arena on the mountain and continued her lessons. Ynhilay had a healer who applied magic to his art of healing and she felt physically fine to continue with her normal training regimen. Calya struggled to keep up, still recovering from her injury. There was a limit to magic and what could have been done was done. It was up to her body to heal itself the rest of the way.

         Fallon had changed over the past month. He and Ariah had not settled their differences, but they could have a conversation about something other than how much they hated each other. She had learned to respect that Fallon was helping the future queen in some way and he had learned to deal with his naturally ingrained hatred of the forest angels. They were civil at least now.

         The princess screamed as Fallon grabbed her by the shoulder and slammed her down onto the ground. She hit the dirt with a loud grunt and immediately curled up in pain.

         Ariah stood and narrowed her eyes at Fallon. “What do you think you're doing, mercenary! She might be fine to spar, but you’re taking it too far. She is not you!”

         Catching her breath, Calya held up a hand. “Ariah, it is okay. If I cannot defend myself when I'm weaker, then how am I supposed to take care of myself when Fallon goes off on his own?”

         The man looked over at her, trying to read her face. There was no anger, sorrow, bitterness or worry there. Why did her statement bother him so much? The past month had done something to him. He could not leave the cabin Calya was recuperating in and so he stayed near her. They talked because there was nothing else to do for that month. He found her demeanor calming in a way that confused him. He continued to remind her that she would have died if he was the one who had to catch her. She reminded him that she understood and that they were different people. She told him that she never had expected him to let her live. She did not fear him because she no longer feared what he could do to her. She expected to be executed and so nothing she did or said mattered. She did not mince words. She was bitter and it showed. She despised him. Yet even knowing that, he saw that she chose to stay with him. She would willingly leave with him as well. He owed her a life debt and there was a sense of honor for him in keeping that. While he felt no loyalty to her, he could not deny that twice now, he was incapable of saving himself, and both times this girl had risen to the challenge and exceeded his expectations when, by any real logic, she should have let him perish. The intrigue was not something he could fight against.

         Fallon reached down and helped her up. “Go soak in the cave. I will follow later. You need to rest your shoulders.” He turned to walk away. Calya was frustrated with him, yes, but with herself as well. She was a half-breed, too. Why was she so weak? She got to her feet and, taking a few quick steps, leaped at Fallon’s back, wrapping his neck in a choke hold. He stumbled forward, a smirk on his lips. This woman will not just give up. I don't know why I am surprised. He was able to force her arms loose and escape, pulling her around in front of him and grabbing her by the throat. He noticed Ariah notch an arrow. Hopefully she wouldn’t shoot him before Calya called her attack off. But neither of them did as expected. Ariah stayed watching them carefully and Calya did not give up. In her orange eyes was a look of pure determination.

         Her shoulders burned with a searing pain, but she refused to give in to it. She gasped and gritted her teeth as she grabbed his arm. Finding a pressure point at his wrist, she pressed and held as tightly as possible. His hand went numb and she swung her legs up to kick out his knees, he moved just out of the way and she pulled him down on the ground with her. The breath left her lungs as his weight slammed into her chest. Their faces were so close, their noses were almost touching. She could see him hesitate for just a moment when his eyes met hers. She took the opportunity and kneed him in the groin before rolling him over and pressing her thumb into his throat, her fist raised to end it. He coughed and tried to swallow, hitting the dirt hard twice to signal his concession. She had won this round. He could have thrown her off, but if she had continued to the death the potential for her to claim victory was there. She had stopped just shy of breaking his face and he considered that a good enough reason to concede.

         “I am not a fragile little girl, Fallon. You have always made sure of that.” She breathed heavily, sweat beading on her forehead and her eyes betraying the intense torment her shoulders were causing.

         “As you have proven. Now go recuperate.” He nodded to the path they had come down. “You have nothing more you should expect from yourself.”

         He assumed she would argue, but she quietly nodded and made her way back down the pathway. The angels had cleared the way and remade a path.

         He watched her go before turning back to Ariah. “She doesn't need me,” he said. His voice was emotionless.

         “You should tell her that. She will always assume that she can not survive without you if you don't. It will not matter what I tell her.” the forest angel inclined her head and gave him a disapproving look.

         “I wish I could,” he replied as he took out a rag and began polishing his blade.

         “You have been intent on leaving her behind since you left the fortress with her. There is no reason to keep her with you. You even admitted that you would have let her fall during the rock slide.” She was frustrated with his hesitation to leave the princess alone.

         “Would I really have let her drop?” His voice was low and carried a strange tone that Ariah couldn't place. Something had changed in him and while she abhorred him for what he was, she could not deny that he could not make up his mind about Calya and what his standing with her was.

         Ariah sighed. “If you do stay with her, you had better make sure no harm comes to her by you or anyone else. I do not trust you and I should have you executed here and now. Yet, like I said before, I respect the wishes of the queen and she is indeed the only legitimate queen of her realm. She is the reason you are still breathing. Do not ever forget that, Fallon.”

         “I don't think I can. I still have a use for her after all so she needs to be safe. I have been using her for revenge this entire time and what better revenge than to see her sit on the throne when the entire existence of Harta is to see Kezna destroyed?” Fallon sheathed his broadsword and leaped up onto the rim of the arena. “I hope her shoulder does not prevent you from teaching her tomorrow. I don't think hand to hand combat is something she needs much more practice on. I will leave her to you tomorrow.”

         Ariah opened her mouth to say something else, but seemed to think better of it. She watched the mercenary’s back as he walked away. His confidence was frustrating and their strange relationship was a constant source of confusion and irritation for the watcher. What did he really think about Calya? How did he really feel? He obviously did not love her, he may not even like her. But did he genuinely respect her? Or did he just revel in the control that he had since Calya thought she needed him?

         They hiked up the path to the training ring day after day. Ariah sat on the boulder overlooking them. They fought. Calya was learning fast. This day, her arms began to shake, and Fallon lowered his sword. “We’re done.”

         “I can still fight.”

         “Calya, you can hardly hold your blade.”

         “I can hold it.”

         She ran at him, her blade held high. He blocked her and pushed her back. She came at him again and again. He finally just disarmed her and held his sword to her throat. “I said we’re done,” he warned, his voice a low growl.

         He walked away, sheathing his weapons as he neared the rim of the arena. He heard footsteps behind him, brandished his sword and thrust it backwards. Instantly he remembered the dream and his heart stopped. In the same instant his sword was knocked to the side, and he spun, his face meeting Calya’s closely, their swords locked together.

         He brought his blade around in an arc, trapping her weapon against the dirt, grabbing her by the throat with one hand. “That’s enough, Calya!” An anxious look crept into her eyes and mingled with her frustration. She dropped her sword on the ground. He forced her back and down, onto her knees, his eyes burning at her disregard.

         Ariah shouted at Fallon from her perch, her bow strung and the arrow aimed at him. “Let her go, Fallon!”

         Fallon breathed out deeply and released her. Cursing, he walked to the rim and pulled himself up. He sheathed his weapon and continued on his way back to their shelter.

         Calya stared after him, dazed. Ariah put her weapon away, but in her hard eyes, it was obvious that she was very much concerned about him. But Calya had become used to him. It wasn't that she enjoyed being around him, but his presence was a constant. It was something she now realized she relied on. However absurd the thought was, she almost did not know what it would be like if they were apart. Between Harta and here, she had spent the better part of six months with him. She was just too comfortable with him by her side. He had never legitimately harmed her since they'd escaped and she held no fear of being close to him. So many things had changed. He was actually more immature and childish than she would have ever anticipated. Extremely lethal, but extremely childish. He became angry about the smallest things sometimes. They made a strange pair traveling together, she had to admit.

         The rest of the day was spent on archery lessons with Ariah. Fallon stayed away the entire time. When dusk was settling in over the mountains, Calya returned to the mouth of the cave. Something caught her attention and she looked up. Fallon was sitting on the rocks above the opening, staring at the last remnants of sunlight disappearing below the horizon. He glanced down at her solemnly before returning his gaze to the sunset. She started to walk into the cavern, but hesitated.

         Fallon heard a noise behind him, turning around to see what was there. Calya was clambering up the rock formation, looking like a baby struggling to crawl. He actually almost laughed at her. She managed to successfully reach the top and sit down beside him.

         “What do you want?” he inquired, staring blankly down at the stone platform below them.

         The princess looked at him curiously. “Why did you leave earlier? We still had hand to hand combat training to do.”

         “I could have killed you, you know.”

         She tried to force a snarky smirk. “That isn’t new, Fallon. You’ve been able to do that from the beginning.” She knew how close he was to actually harming her. He just shot her a look of annoyance instead of giving her an actual response. “Either way, I missed out on some much needed training.” Her tone was indiscernible. He wasn’t sure if she was mocking him or if she was upset. She cautiously stood and turned to leave him alone again. “Don’t let yourself get in the way of what needs to be done, okay?” she said while attempting to climb down without sliding to a hard and painful death.

         He put his hand over his face in aggravation, not at her, but at himself. How was he more restless now than when he was in Harta? He thought about what the angel had mentioned to him and then what Calya said. And why did this princess continue to confuse and intrigue him? How was she so confident around him? How could she be so cold, so bold, so unwavering and yet so… feeling? That last thing really tripped him up. How could she feel so much without being a puddle of weakness? It continued to unnerve him. Was he intimidated by her? No. Never. And yet, even as he repeated that in his mind, he couldn’t quite convince himself. The things that had begun collapsing in him before he left the fortress were really starting to concern him. He was losing himself in… something. His confidence in what he knew about life was slowly melting. His certainty that feelings created a weak person and that being heartless was the only way to survive and function was not so certain anymore. He was angry, but no longer knew what he was angry at. He hated Calya, but felt the strange pull to look out for her. One of these days she will show how weak and pathetic she is and I will be proven right. I only must wait and see. With that, he jumped down to the entrance of the cavern below and went inside.

         Days turned into weeks and those passed quickly. Three months were already finished when Ariah and Fallon decided that Calya was proficient enough to be finished with training. Calya had built a decent amount of muscle from sword fighting, hand to hand combat and archery. She held her head higher, carried herself more confidently and looked more like a capable, drafted soldier than a princess who grew up in a bubble for twenty years.

         Fallon got Calya up early to leave the cavern and make their way out of the forest. They shouldered their packs and reached the entrance of the cave just as the sun’s first rays were coloring the sky with bright gold, pink, and purple streaks. Calya peered over the edge of the rocks and out over the trees. She was different than when she had arrived. She couldn’t pick out exactly how, but she felt different. Fallon was as well. He related to her differently. He was in no way sweet, gentle or happy, but he was no longer as explosive, unfeeling and harsh.

         “Let’s go,” Fallon said beside her. He started down first. “Follow me and look for my hand and foot holds if you are able. There are a lot of loose rocks on the way down.”

         Calya nodded and started down after him. It was a long climb, followed by an even longer hike. At the bottom of the mountain Ariah intercepted them to lead them to where their horses were stabled. She then led them out of the forest to the edge of the community. She directed them to leave by a different direction than they had come. This direction was a shorter distance before they exited Ynhilay and less likely to draw attention to them. Before they parted, Ariah gifted Calya with a bow and a quiver of arrows made in their forest. The design was flawless and smooth, delicate yet strong. It was a beautiful weapon, studded with angelfire and the arrows were crafted from a reddish tinted wood. The quiver was also exquisit, with angelfire and carvings over the face of it and a rugged yet attractive leather strap going across the archer’s chest to secure it in place. Calya thanked her and equipped the gifts. Ariah knelt before her and bowed her head. “Your highness, may your quest succeed and my people one day kneel before you in your royal hall to show their loyalty once more.”

         A moment later she shot into the sky and disappeared. Fallon and the princess looked at each other for a moment before kicking their horses and continuing their journey alone once more.

         That night, they stopped for some rest and food. They did not say much since they had both been lost in their thoughts since they left the forest. They ate and when it came time to sleep, Calya took the first watch.

         “You think you can keep your screams in?” His voice was callus. Jain looked at him, horror etched in every line of his face. Fallon looked at his sword admiringly as he spoke. “You know, there is just something about a stubborn person that I cannot understand. What good does being stubborn do anyone?” He slashed his blade across Jain’s arm, cutting a major artery. “You see, I do what I want, where I want, when I want.” He watched as his brother gasped and sweated. “No amount of stubbornness will take away the position that is rightfully mine.” He laughed as he looked his sibling in the eyes. He ran his finger along the now red tip of his sword carefully. “And no brother will make me weak.” His eyes were fierce and wild. “I have chosen my family.” His brother looked like a hunted animal as he pulled at his bonds frantically. Entertainment or efficiency? Fallon thought to himself. He smiled maliciously and lifted his weapon. “Entertainment.”


 

         Fallon awoke to his own piercing scream. Calya ran over to him and dropped to her knees by his side. “Fallon! What’s wrong?” He sounded like he had been pierced or injured. Worry creased her forehead.

         He jolted upright, sweating and whispering under his breath. “It was just a dream… just a dream…” The girl looked helpless as he breathed in and out heavily. He looked her in the eyes and smirked. “I’m fine. Don’t worry about it. Go to sleep, I’ll finish keeping watch.” The princess looked less than convinced, but she knew better than to argue and knelt there while he stood and walked to the other side of the camp. She watched him curiously. Then he turned around. “Do you ever feel like something that has never bothered you before suddenly became the one thing you hate most?”

         She stared blankly back at him, having absolutely no idea what he was talking about. “Uhh… I’m not sure what you mean?” she said, her answer sounding more like a question than anything.

         “Nevermind. Go to sleep.” He turned his back on her again, sat down and looked up at the night sky.

         She stood and walked over to him, sitting down on the ground beside him quietly. She didn’t speak for a minute, but instead, looked up at the stars with him. “So what do you hate most now?”

         Am I really about to tell her? Am I really going to be weak right now to this woman? He was. The months he had spent with her had caused him to say things he never would have uttered to any other living soul. It wasn't like he was going to stay with her long term. “Myself.”

         The one word caught her by surprise. What was happening to him? “Why?” she asked, hoping to accumulate a little more insight into what was going through this man’s mind. “Why do you hate yourself most?”

         He pounded a fist on the ground. “Does it matter? Why wouldn’t I hate me? You hate me. Are you surprised that I do as well?”

         For the first time, she felt pity for him, a strange sense of unexplainable compassion. Something was happening in him and he could not handle it, and at the same time, he was powerless to prevent or stop it. “Who says that I do?"

         “You do,” he said curtly. “And if you don’t, then you just haven't realized it yet.”

         His answer was ridiculous. Somehow he could not quite see that. He always made excuses to hide what he really thought and she assumed the case was the same here. “You think what you will, but you are not who you were, nor are you who you want to be. That is obvious. There is more about you then I think you even know.”

         He rolled his eyes, clearly annoyed and wanting her to stop talking. “Why can’t you just admit that you hate me and stop talking?”

         “What do you hate so much about yourself, Fallon? Is it the bloodlust? The anger? The loneliness? What is it?”

         “You,” he growled in a low tone.

         The princess, again, was surprised by his response. “I don’t understand.”

         “You and me both, princess.” He said her title, not mockingly or with disgust, but his tone sounded more passive and uncaring. He sounded bitter, like her title meant nothing to him. At the moment, if she was being honest, it didn’t seem to mean a whole lot to her either.

         I can’t tell her that I hate her calm. That she makes me feel reckless and unwise. I can’t tell her that if she wasn’t here I would still enjoy severing people’s body parts from them like the stem from an apple. How would I tell her that her lack of being intimidated is unnerving and uncomfortable? How can I tell her that since she was put under me, I’ve begun to feel ashamed of myself? He couldn’t. And yet, there was some part of him that could not get enough of her. Of being around her, that is. She confused him. She was like an endless puzzle that he felt he could never solve, but could not stop trying to anyway.

         He was making her nervous. She rose and retreated back to her blanket and lay down, staring at him until her eyes were too heavy to stay open, wondering if she would ever figure him out.

         Fallon stared up at the sky from the dirt, his previously held ideologies at war with what was before his very eyes. When his eyes were seeing the very thing that he had always known was impossible, which was he supposed to believe? Did he believe his eyes or his instincts? What was he supposed to do when his instincts did not seem to make sense anymore? He groaned to himself and stared across the small campfire at the princess sleeping on the ground, her head resting on her cloak. He tried to feel the same level of disdain for her that he did in the beginning. It had vanished. Even his anger had morphed into something unrecognizable, like seeing a caterpillar go into a cocoon and come out as a butterfly for the first time. It was still anger, but it was no longer an anger at life, joy, revelry, pleasure or calm. It was an anger at… well at something. He still could not name it or find a place for it, nor could he make sense of it. Yet it was there, every time he did anything. It plagued him, this unknown and seemingly untamable fire that raged without reason.

         Sunlight woke Calya with a start. She quickly sat up and searched for Fallon, assuming he had left her sleeping and taken off on his own. But there he was, munching on some bread, eyeing her from where he sat. The sun was high in the sky by now. She got to her feet, more than a little aggravated, and stalked over to him. “Why didn’t you wake me up for the second watch last night? And why aren’t we already on our way?”

         A smirk played at the corner of the mercenary's mouth. “If you woke up on time we could have left.” His comment wasn’t cold, annoyed, or mean-spirited. It was instead sarcastic, humored and just a little teasing.

         Calya stood with her mouth open, looking down at him, trying to come up with a response. Was he trying to be funny? Was that another joke from him?

         “Your mouth is open, milady,” he commented as he nodded to her and stood. He handed her a piece of bread as he stretched and began saddling the horses. The young woman quickly shut her mouth and smiled, then looked stern, then smiled again, simultaneously confused, concerned and humored. Who was this man? She stared after him a moment before shoving the bread in her mouth and returning to her rolled up cloak to unroll it and put it on.

         Minutes later, they were mounted and riding. She rode up beside him and looked at him, concern creasing her brow. “Fallon, what is wrong with you?”

         He turned to look at her, surprised. “Uhh… What?”

         “Was that a joke?”

         The man looked utterly lost.

         “Back there. The comment about if I woke up and about my mouth hanging open.”

         A fleeting look crossed his features and was gone again in an instant. “Is that why you look upset?”

         Was he amused? “Yes.” Her patience was wearing thin.

         “You’re quite unpredictable, you know that? You are angry when I am mean and heartless. You are upset when I am cold and uncaring. Now you are even mad when I am somewhat decent. Are you never not upset?”

         Calya pulled her horse to a halt and stared at him again. He kept going as if he did not notice. “Hold on, Fallon! Stop!”

         He hollered back over his shoulder at her without so much as a look in her direction. “We won’t reach Kezna by stopping.” The princess grunted with frustration and kicked her horse and rode past him with her head held high. He smiled to himself, completely satisfied with her response. This was doable. He could get under her skin easily this way. He could keep her guessing. He just had to keep this up and he had the upper hand. He was finally back in control. That, at least, was what he told himself. He convinced himself that he was not coming to enjoy being around this woman. Or he was trying to convince himself.

         They rode until dark, mostly in silence. Calya spent half the day glaring at him uneasily from under her hood. He partially ignored her while congratulating himself on his victory. He let her take the first watch and he laid down to sleep. The woman eyed him suspiciously as she got comfortable on a fallen log opposite him. He smirked and closed his eyes, drifting off into a sleep that was much less pleasant.



         Calya lay unconscious in the leaves at Fallon’s feet. He laughed at her pitiful attempts to escape and the fear he instilled in her. Kikarii was screaming and kicking between two large brutes behind him. “We don’t need him awake, boys. Shut him up! And load them on the pack horses. They are coming back with us alive,” he hollered at them. There was a loud thud and Kikarii fell still. The men were bringing the two prisoners out of the trees when the young mercenary walked over to the young woman who had been killed by the archers. She was a redhead. Her braided bun was half pulled out from the few moments she had writhed on the ground before breathing her last. He looked over her body and pulled out the arrow from her chest. He looked at the bloody arrow tip as if admiring a work of art before crouching down to strip her of her weapons and whatever valuables she may possess. He took a moment to look into her glazed eyes. He always did. He reveled in the power he felt looking into the eyes of a corpse that had fallen under his command. Her eyes blinked. He hesitated. She turned to look at him, her eyes still glazed and unseeing. Blood was dribbling from her mouth still as it slowly opened. “Do you miss this, Fallon? Do you miss these corpses?” He fell back with a start, but landed on another body. He jumped to his feet in shock and looked around frantically. The ground was covered in the bloodied and partially mangled victims of his brutality. He recognized some of them. A lot of them. He turned to look at the body he had fallen back on, even though he already knew he shouldn’t. His brother lay, looking up at the trees above with dead eyes, his body in tatters, chunks missing from his flesh and his face frozen in a silent scream of terror and agony. The cold, drained face was filled with some pain, but mostly with betrayal. It also turned to look at him. “Is this still fun for you?” Jain’s calm voice said even while his mouth remained unchanged.


 

         Fallon woke up to his own shriek as he jumped to his feet, his sword instantly in his hand. Calya screamed in shock and surprise, spinning around to look at him. He was glistening in the firelight with dripping sweat covering his face and soaking his tunic. His eyes darted around wildly, like a caged animal and he panted and gasped for breath.

         “Fallon?” a soft voice beckoned. He jumped and held his sword up toward his companion, ready for a blow that was never coming. “What happened? Are you alright?”

         He stood for a moment, breathing heavily, his body shaking. Then he swallowed and lowered his weapon. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m alright.” He looked over his shoulder warily before meeting her eyes. He looked haunted and hunted. He looked uncertain and cornered. He looked afraid.

         Calya was completely unconvinced as she watched him slowly, cautiously lay back down, still gripping his blade. “Fallon,” she called to him. His eyes snapped up to look at her. “Why don’t you come sit by the fire for a bit and try to relax? It may be easier to get back to sleep if you just sit for a bit.”

         He seemed to ignore her as he closed his eyes and lay still. She turned back to the fire to her left and poked it absent mindedly with a stick. To her right, Fallon bolted back upright, sword arm rigid. He looked over at her again as she stared back, quiet and motionless, waiting. He let go of his sword and walked over, taking a seat beside her miserably. They sat by the fire in silence for long minutes before he finally spoke. “I dreamed you forgot to feed and saddle my horse.”

         Calya stared at him, unsure of whether she should laugh or feel bad at his sad attempt at a joke. “I’ll make sure not to forget that next time,” She replied seriously. It was obvious that he felt the need to just say something about it. She knew she could not expect him to be honest about whatever nightmare had plagued him.

         The mercenary looked bitter. He shifted his gaze from the flickering light to the stars and sighed deeply, almost sounding as if he hoped to give up what air was left in his lungs and deflate into the ground itself and disappear.

         “It’s not normal to feel regret.”

         Surprised for what had to have been the hundredth time, the princess blinked curiously at him. “Excuse me?’

         “Regret isn’t normal,” he repeated.

         Should she laugh? Or was he being serious? She studied him for a long moment and realized that he was indeed serious. “Regret is completely normal,” she replied.

         “I don’t believe that. No one I’ve ever known had any regrets about anything.” He saw the expression on her face that told him no one he had ever known was normal. She bit her lip while she debated whether to actually say it or not. He waved a hand at her dismissively. “Don’t even say it. Maybe normal was the wrong word. Anyway, thanks.” With that, he got up and went to lay down again.

         “Thanks for what?” Calya asked, confused.

         “Distracting me.” Then he laid down, rolled over and went to sleep again.

         The young woman sighed and kept watch until some time past midnight, when she woke him up to switch. He took over until dawn, when they ate a hurried breakfast and set out again.

         Fallon and Calya came upon a village, completely destroyed and desolate. It was obvious that it had been attacked many years ago and had never been reinhabited. The mercenary slowed his steed and rode straight through. The princess followed him to a broken down house and they stopped. Fallon dismounted and nodded for her to follow him in. The young woman looked around nervously and slowly proceeded to swing herself from her own saddle. Hesitantly, she approached the small porch. Fallon carefully avoided the holes in the wood and motioned silently for her to do the same. When they were inside, he stopped, standing like a stone. Calya came up beside him and was about to ask what was wrong. Upon seeing his face, she shut her mouth and just stared around her uneasily.

         After a long five minutes of standing silently in the small kitchen, Fallon’s voice broke the silence. “This was my house. The house I grew up in.” He scoffed. “Well, the house I started growing up in before the mercenaries came. This was one of the villages in the way when the steward was preparing for his complete take over and his forming of alliances. There was no good reason to destroy the town. Other than us being in the way.” He suddenly started walking to the back of the house. It was so sudden after those long stationary minutes, that Calya jumped when he spoke and again when he took a step forward. He walked to their small living room and back to the man’s old bedroom that he shared with his brother. “This was our old room. I cannot tell you how I remember that. I just do. We were so young at the time. We had gone to another village for something with my mother. I could no longer tell you why we were gone while my father stayed. It may have been visiting family or helping someone in another village.” He paused. Calya could not tell if he was uncomfortable or just thinking. Then he continued. “But my father was one of the village leaders. He was one of the big prizes. With him gone, the village would not rebuild.”

         Calya swallowed hard before speaking. “Do you feel sad coming back here?”

         He shook his head slowly as he turned and began walking back outside. “I don’t really feel anything. Call me a monster, but that is just the way it is. They made sure of that.”

         The princess was going to ask who made sure, but before she could open her mouth to ask, Fallon told her to mount up and he continued through the abandoned village. They passed by the center of the village and saw a skeleton, bleached by the sun and weathered by storms, strung up with ropes. It was in pieces, but the intact bones that were left were held onto the door in what had once been a spread eagle position. Calya’s face turned white. Fallon looked over at her and then at the door. His mouth went dry for a moment before he cleared his throat. “Let’s go, princess.” He kicked his stallion into a gallop and left the village behind.

         When they had stopped for the night, hours later, Calya was hesitant to bring up the skeleton on the door. She did not have to. Fallon spoke of it first. “That was my father.” The young woman’s mouth stopped chewing and she stared at him. “They had to make an example of him. That is how we work. I assume it was always like that, but no one really knows anymore. And before you ask, I still do not feel much, even seeing that.” Fallon did not necessarily lie about feeling nothing seeing his destroyed village and the remains of his father, but he did get some memories of that day back and he did his best to push them aside. Calya had no need of that information about him so he withheld it from her.

         “Who made sure you feel nothing?” Calya asked. She almost regretted the question before she finished asking it.

         “Those who trained me. My commander. His second in command. Those who branded me. Those who watched me. That was their job - to make perfect soldiers who felt nothing, were afraid of nothing and shied away from nothing.” A sick smile twisted his features. A shiver ran down Calya’s spine. “But you already knew that about me.” He walked away to the edge of the campfire to take the first watch, leaving the woman alone with her thoughts. She struggled to stop thinking about everything they had seen and she had heard that day. Failing miserably, she drifted into a fitful sleep that left her less than rested. When she awoke and they started off again the next morning, she was still tired and restless.

         It seemed eerily coincidental that the ambush happened just after they left Fallon's old village. They were galloping over a large flat plain when the riders cut them off, swords held at the ready. Fallon yelled to Calya in warning. He knew these men and it was about time they had found him. Calya looked over at him, her face tense and focused. She nodded. They were going to have to stand and fight.

         Fallon had no time to think. He swung his horse around and leaped off onto the back of one of the oncomers’ horses. Calya took her bow and an arrow and let the arrow fly straight into the side of one of the attackers. The man fell off his horse and Calya jumped down after him. She pulled out her sword and attacked, her face fierce and her hair flying wild behind her. By the time the man broke off the arrow and was on his feet, she was on top of him, her blade coming down in an arc. Faster than she could see, his blade came up to block her. The sharp clang of metal rang in her ears. She hoped that Fallon would dispatch his opponent quickly and come get her. It was a ridiculous thought, but she knew that she was unable to overpower this man, elven bloodline and all. She held her ground, pushing back with everything she had. He was strong. Much stronger than he should have been.

         Fallon saw Calya engage one of the mercenaries. As he fell from the horse, taking the rider down with him. He rolled him over and punched him in the face, the man’s nose snapping instantly, blood spurting into Fallon’s eyes. He blinked and shook his head quickly, trying to clear his vision. That few seconds cost him the advantage he had. He was hit in the face himself and knocked onto the ground. He saw the glint of a blade and realized almost too late that he had gotten rid of his chainmail gauntlets for these leather ones. Useless. A sword came down. Fallon rolled to the side and kicked its wielder in the face, the already broken nose increasing the effectiveness of the impact.

         Calya saw Fallon out of the corner of her eye. She was on her own in this fight. The mercenary was bearing down on her and her legs were beginning to give out under the strain. She let the man's weapon rundown the length of hers and she threw herself to the side. He was caught off balance and she instantly recovered and launched herself at him. Dropping her sword to the ground, she tackled him. The princess grabbed the hilt of his sword to keep it away from her and punched him in the throat. She knew she had been lucky. He had made a rare mistake and it had given her an opening. The soldier choked and coughed trying to breathe. She knew she had damaged his windpipe. It was a cheap shot that Fallon had taught her that could be utilized with only a moment of opportunity. It worked and she tore the sword from his hand and knocked him unconscious. He would eventually die on his own. She did not feel the need to finish him off here. She looked over at Fallon. Of course he is handling things easily.

         Fallon’s adversary fell to the ground screaming in pain, his face a bloody mess. Even so, he had gotten ahold of his sword again and was moving to attack. Too late, Fallon was a master with a blade. He unsheathed his broadsword and hit the other’s away with little effort. “Die now!” he yelled and swung his sword down, severing the man’s head in one smooth motion. He picked up the man’s head and looked at the ruined face for a moment before throwing it somewhere into the field. He rose and came to where Calya was standing, breathing heavily. He looked down at the dying man. She was no match for him. He had made a mistake and had paid for it with his life. Yet she was no killer and she would leave him here to die on his own. Fallon would not. “Move away,” he said harshly. She shook her head and stood calmly. He rolled his eyes. “Don’t be upset with me then.” He swung his broadsword around in his hand before tightening his grip and plunging it down onto the mercenary’s chest. The body heaved and the gurgling sound of trying to gasp for breath met her ears before he was still and silent.

         “He would have died on his own.” She glared at him.

         “I told you not to get upset. You never leave an enemy alive. The worst mistake you can make is to think they will die and leave them to come after you later.” He observed the young woman for a moment, his dark eyes scanning her expression. She was cold and unmovable, a stone, unaffected by what he did. Fallon could not pretend he was not impressed. She had attacked an opponent far superior to her, found what was probably the only mistake he would make, and dropped him almost instantly. Calya had shown no hesitation in taking on someone much more capable. He had trained her, yes, but had she really changed this much in such a short time? He did not hide the smile of approval that crossed his face.

         Calya retrieved her longsword and sheathed it, looking through the man’s pockets for money or food or anything else they could use. Fallon lifted an eyebrow. This was not the first time she had been in a situation like this. He had a feeling that Hannon’s appearance had not been her first time either. She pulled what pouches she found beneficial and nodded to the other, headless man a little ways away. “Are you going to search him? Or would you rather I do it?”

         He glowered at her. “Go get your horse and drop the ego. You killed one man.”

         She lifted a hand to stop him. “I think you have forgotten that this makes eleven. While I've been with you, that is. If you include the two before I met you and the reviler in the swamp, I guess you could say it is fourteen.”

         Her companion froze in the middle of his task. “What? I thought you had no skills.”

         She laughed. It was a nicer sound to him than he could have anticipated. “Yes. You thought. I never said that. You just assumed.” With a last sideways glance, she swung herself up on her horse. She was tired, sore, and now that the adrenaline had worn off, she was doing her best to keep from shaking.

         Fallon just stared. She had killed thirteen people and a reviler. Was it just a coincidence that we captured her? No. She was terrible with weapons when we arrived in Ynhilay. But her throwing knives. She is deadly accurate. Have I underestimated her this whole time? Being faced with death and killing that often and still being like she was, it bothered him even more. She was much happier than he was. She appreciated more than he did. He was absolutely miserable. He shook his head as he finished checking for valuables. Then he mounted up and they continued on.
 

         There was a small city nearby where they could recuperate, plan and strategize. If they could get enough supplies to last another two weeks, they could reach Kezna without making another pit stop. It would be the final leg of the journey for Calya and the end of the road for Fallon. He thought about it as he rode. Another thing shifted in him. He felt sad. Even more lost than he originally had when he left Harta. What would he do when she was queen and he had no responsibility left? Perhaps he could work for the palace. And yet, he knew that there was no place for him there. Even as the thought entered his head, he dismissed it. Would his companion even want him near her once the goal was accomplished? He had slaughtered her friend, convinced her he had slaughtered a second, and was overall a terrible human being. Perhaps she would even put him to death for his crimes against her. At least that would solve his dilemma of what he would do after all was accomplished. At least this way, he could exact revenge on those who took his life from him and Anohean, the man who had trained him. He was the one who had kidnapped Calya as an infant. His revenge would be complete when he reinstated her as queen. He no longer found pleasure in the incessant killing and torture. His last nightmare still haunted him. Did he miss it? No. Was he still having fun with slaughter? No. Did he even know who he was or what he wanted anymore? No. However, there was one thing that he could say yes to... finally. Despite being incredibly restless, he was actually beginning to feel more at ease than ever before. Something about Calya’s nonaggression was shockingly relaxing compared to the high stress and rigid atmosphere he was used to.

         That night, he scouted out the area and shared his plan to stop at the next small city for supplies and to formulate a solid battle plan. Calya agreed readily enough and they changed course for the next day.

         Fallon switched watches with Calya sometime in the middle of the night and laid down to get what sleep he could. His nightmares haunted him. They were much more terrible now. He lay there for hours, realizing he was getting no sleep tonight.

         The next day went by quickly and quietly. Fallon was lost in his thoughts and Calya was becoming more and more uneasy about how they would infiltrate her city. That evening they stopped to rest before they entered the city the next day.

         Fallon laid back with his hands behind his head, fingers interlocked. He belched.

         Calya stared at him and shook her head. "You’re an animal."

         Her companion chuckled and shrugged. He closed one eye and watched her with the other. She was drawing in the dirt with a stick by the fire. That normally meant she was deep in thought about something. They had been around each other for months now and he had become used to her quirks and habits. They were the first sense of normalcy he had ever felt in whatever part of his life he could remember. "What is it?"

         "What is what?"

         "Something is bothering you," he pressed.

         She waved her hand dismissively and focused on her stick. Fallon stood up and walked over, plopping down beside her. "Remember when you took me from Harta?"

         The man stared at the sky and squinted as if trying to recall a faded memory. Then he shook his head. "Not at all." His ability to keep a straight face while lying really was impressive.

         Rolling her eyes, the princess continued. "Why did no one see the doors you hid me behind?"

         "They were drunk."

         "That's a bad answer and you know it." She threw her stick into the fire and turned to face him. "You told me you would explain later."

         "Okay, okay." He said as he stood and walked to the tree nearby. He touched it and a moment later, it vanished from sight. Calya gasped and looked at him in stunned silence. He took his hand away and it appeared again. "As long as I am in contact with the tree, I can make it invisible to the untrained eye. It is more difficult through clothing like boots as I did with the doors in the fortress, but it is obviously still doable."

         "But… but how?"

         "My mother was an elf and my father was a human. That is the extent of my abilities. Kikarii would have been able to make himself and the door invisible since he is purebred."

         Calya thought on his words for a brief moment before speaking again. "Did they help you with that in Harta?"

         Fallon laughed mockingly. "No, princess. I learned from my mother before my village was destroyed. No one in Harta knew I was a half-breed. That was my secret. But that is the reason I could overpower any normal person. There are only men in the fortress. However, elves are stronger and they learn faster. Even as a half-breed, I benefited greatly from my bloodline."

         "It always did seem odd how quickly Kikarii honed his skill with a sword." The young woman's eyes looked to the sky as she filtered through memories. They were just outside of the town where they would finalize a plan to retake Kezna. She pondered over all that had happened in the past months of her travels. She realized that she had changed greatly. In the company of Kikarii she had felt like a bothersome child. But now, in the company of Fallon, she felt different. The upcoming battle did not frighten her even if the unease bubbled below the surface. She was bold and would not be walked upon. He had broken her weakness and welded it into an iron resolve. Who would have ever thought it would take a bloodthirsty mercenary to make me a queen? Calya chuckled at the irony.

         Fallon looked at her curiously from his place on the ground he had returned to for the night. Standing up, Calya announced she would be the watcher and would take a short walk to stretch her legs before he fell asleep. He shrugged as if uninterested and rolled over to rest.