“Yes, Master.” Vrell bowed out of the chamber.
She went to her room and fetched her pouch of healing herbs and ointments. If there had been a battle, she might be able to help the wounded. She filled her water skin in the courtyard fountain. She wished her sword was finished. Going into a battle without a weapon, or with a weapon but without the training to use it, seemed terribly foolish. She found Jax at the stables and was shocked to see a squadron of Kingsguard knights ready to depart.
“Vrell!” Jax greeted her with a smile. “We journey again.”
The familiar, little, white courser Jax presented thrilled Vrell’s heart. He reminded her of Kopay, her horse back home. Jax sat atop a massive, black festrier. Vrell felt like she was riding a colt in comparison.
The strain the young soldier brought to her mind pressed against her all morning, but she could not see him clearly. His power was close, though, and she sensed great fear. Judging from the concern on Jax’s face, he could too. He did not try to pace the horses, but galloped north at top speed.
After an hour of hard riding, Jax pulled up at the top of a hill overlooking a vast green valley. Vrell stopped beside him.
Darkness rose like a wall to the west, stretching for miles in each direction, separated from the green prairie and forest by the vaporous Evenwall. There was no sign of Prince Gidon’s procession. A great foreboding hung over the squadron like a cloud. Vrell opened her mind slightly to those who were gifted. All sensed the same thing from their fellow Kingsguards who escorted Prince Gidon: fear.
“What is it?” Vrell asked Jax.
“Poroo.”
Vrell’s heart quaked. The poroo had once been a peaceful race of men, but Darkness had driven them mad. It was rumored they ate anything they could catch, humans included. “But they live in Darkness.”
“Aye. That they do. They must be very hungry to cross into Light.”
“Do you sense the soldier?” Vrell asked.
“Barely. He fights. They all do. The poroo attacked from the Evenwall at first light.” Jax wheeled his massive horse around and addressed the soldiers. “Our prince is in trouble! We must aid our Kingsguard brothers to see him brought safely to Mahanaim. The poroo attacked from the trees with spears and rocks. Go carefully.” Jax yanked an axe from the sheath on his left thigh and raised it high above his head. “For our prince!”
The other soldiers and knights each waved their weapons high and echoed, “Our prince!”
Jax turned to Vrell. “Wait here for our return. If we should fail, report to Mahanaim.”
With that, Jax kicked his horse in the side. It galloped down the hill, raising a cloud of red dust behind. The squadron followed.
Vrell sat atop her horse, staring after them, lips parted. Her orders from Master Hadar were to find the gifted one and stay with him. How could she do that from more than a mile away? And did she really want to?
Vrell carefully closed her mind and concentrated, sending a knock to her mother.
Vrell? What is it, dear?
Remember the soldier I told you about? There has been a battle. Master Hadar sent me to bring the soldier back. I hesitate to deliver him to Master Hadar, but I also do not want to leave him with no training.
When the fighting is over, take the boy to Master Hadar, Mother said. A battle is no place for you. When the fighting is over, take the boy to Master Hadar. But warn him to be wary. When Sir Rigil arrives, make sure he knows who the boy is. He may be able to help.
Vrell closed the connection to her mother and sought out the soldier. She could barely sense him. His distracted state acted as a closed door against her search. Below, Jax’s squadron had reached the valley and was galloping toward a tree line at the far end. Vrell watched them move across the plain, the poroo battle nowhere in sight. Surely she could get a little closer than this. She steered her horse back onto the road and cantered down the hill.
Scattered trees on her right grew thicker, and soon Vrell found herself in a kind of corridor. Dense, green forest on her right. Grey, misted Evenwall on her left. It was cooler here than Mahanaim’s humidity. A breeze blew the stale, Evenwall mist over her, dampening her skin. An army of poroo could be standing just inside the cloud, watching, and she would never know until it was too late.
At the clash of metal, Vrell halted her horse. The sound had come from the forest on her right, but she sensed that the soldier was not there. She turned her head to the left, zeroing in on the mist, and a shiver raked her soul.
The soldier was in the Evenwall.
Vrell stared into the churning vapor, her shaking hands clutching the reins. She thought she heard a whisper somewhere close. “Hello?” Her eyes darted around the mist but detected no living thing.
Perhaps it had been only the wind. She nudged her horse forward, toward the Evenwall, but the beast was smarter than that. She nudged harder and the horse jerked forward. The air cooled instantly. Dampness clung like dew.
Contrary to what she had expected, the Evenwall was not pitch black. It was like standing in a forest on a rainy day. Everything ashen, somber, and chilled. Like twilight.
Vrell steered her horse slowly, able to see only a few yards in any direction. She wove around drooping willows and redpines. Under their leafy canopy, the shadows deepened, limiting her visibility.
She sensed a presence, a foreboding that someone was watching. A hiss to her left stiffened her posture. But she saw no one, only mist wavering around tree branches. She pressed on in the direction of the soldier. She sensed his fatigue. He needed rest.
Muted sounds of blades clashing, men grunting and screaming, and frightened horses grew as Vrell forged through broken branches and over trampled ground. She had gone too far. She had only meant to get a little closer, but now Jax would be cross. So would Mother. She did not even have a weapon.
At least she was in the wake of the battle and not in front of it.
A body came into view, lying on the turf to her right. She approached slowly and saw that it was only an arm, severed just above the elbow. Vrell looked away, horrified.
A few more paces revealed the body the arm had come from. Mud had been painted on his milky white skin like war paint. His glassy eyes stared into the sky. He wore a knotted combination of animal pelts and fabric.
A poroo, she supposed.
A crude spear lay beside him, its head a chiseled, leaf-shaped stone. Vrell dismounted, careful to hold the reins in case her horse decided to abandon her, and stepped over the pine needles to retrieve the weapon. The forest seemed to whisper indiscernible words. Or maybe it was the mist itself. She did not look at the dead man until she was safely back on her horse. Feeling better with a weapon, she urged her mount toward the sounds of the distant action.
She could not see anyone through the thick, green forest, but she did hear far-off sounds of men yelling and steel clashing. It reminded her of a dreadful haunted swamp, without the watery ground.
Vrell should have stayed on the hill.
She saw movement and stopped. The pearly skin of poroo soldiers popped in the distant, shadowed wood. It was harder to see their Kingsguard opponents. Vrell’s white horse would be a beacon to her presence. The thought sent a tremble up her spine. She dismounted and tied the courser to the nearest tree. Vrell would blend in better without it.
She crouched low and darted from tree to tree, clutching her spear. The cries of dying men tugged at her heart strings. She had brought her satchel. Perhaps she could help some of them. But she pressed on, ignoring the wounded and the whispering forest — to find the gifted one.