The Realm Beyond the Storm: Wind Rider Chronicles, #6

By Allison D. Reid

The war has been raging for three long years, though the Kinship believes it is far from the front. But Elowyn has a disturbing vision—one in which her worst fears become a terrifying reality: the tower is under attack by Beasts, and she, Morganne, and Adelin are fleeing with the relic…alone.

 

Braeden has been desperately searching for something in the nearby ruins of Solis. The shadows have settled there, enveloping the mountains in a darkness that feels like a living presence to Elowyn and Glak. Beasts guard the pass, attacking any who come near, and the Kinship is cut off from Minhaven. Elowyn worries that Braeden is looking for her, and more importantly the relic, but Morganne isn't so sure. She has discovered that Solis was not the remote and insignificant place she'd assumed it to be. The monks who once lived there were hiding something worth dying to protect—something that was perhaps as important as the relic itself.

 

Will the Kinship find Braeden's prize before he does, or will the Beasts finally bring the war to the tower's front door, setting into motion the events of Elowyn's worrisome vision? Only time will tell whether the Kinship can prevail against the Beasts yet again, or if Morganne and Elowyn will lose their home, and with it everyone they care most about.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Allison D. Reid
• Release date: Feb 14, 2021
• ISBN: 9781393285250

Allison D. Reid

Allison D. Reid was born in Cincinnati, Ohio. Her love for medieval fantasy was sparked by the Narnia Chronicles by C.S. Lewis, which fed both her imagination and her spiritual development. When at the age of thirteen her family moved to Germany, her passion for medieval history and legend only increased, and she found herself captivated by the ancient towns and castles of Europe. Allison returned to the United States to study art and writing at Hampshire College in Amherst, MA. She earned her B.A. under the tutelage of the well-renowned and prolific writer Andrew Salkey, a student of her other great inspiration, and the father of fantasy, J. R. R. Tolkien. After graduating from Hampshire College, Allison moved to Connecticut. There she got the opportunity to attend seminary and further explore her faith before returning to her home state of Ohio. Allison now lives in the Miami Valley area with her husband and children. She continues to work on her first published series while taking care of her family, editing for other independent writers, and managing a home business.

Book preview

Prologue

Spring has finally returned to the garden beneath my office window. Winter snowdrops have all faded away, replaced by tulips, daffodils, and bluebells. Everything is rapidly changing from lifeless brown to lush and tender green as new growth bursts forth from the sleeping soil. The sun has awakened not only the garden, but the forest beyond it, with every living thing moving about joyfully in anticipation of warmer days still to come.

The three little saplings on the edge of my garden are no longer saplings. They have grown tall, graceful, and strong. Their bark is tougher now than it once was, and for the first time, flower buds have appeared on their outstretched branches. In the cradling arms of one of the trees, a bird had built a nest for its young. The tiny eggs filling the nest brought forth hatchlings; helpless, feather-bare creatures, incessantly calling out with hungry, wide-open beaks. Under their parents’ tender care, the hatchlings quickly grew into fledglings, finally strong enough to test their wings and leave the nest.

I’ve observed that some young birds go willingly, eager to take flight and explore the world. Others are more reluctant, lulled into a false sense of safety by the warmth and abundance of food given to them. Little do they realize that as they grow, the chance their noise and movement will attract predators grows also. Their parents are wise enough to force them out when the time is right. They will need the advantage of flight to evade danger, to learn to feed themselves, and eventually, care for and feed their own young as the cycle of life continues on through the ages.

I will admit, it was a shock when I saw one of those little birds fall from the tree. It instinctively spread its wings to soften the impact, appearing somewhat stunned by the jarring experience. The nest had been a comfortable, familiar place where all of its needs had been met without effort. By contrast, the ground was hard, cold, and unforgiving. For the first time in its young life, it was completely exposed and vulnerable to the elements, its eyes suddenly opened to the vastness of a world it hadn’t fully seen before. I resisted the urge to run out and rescue it. As I well know from my own life, not all lessons can be learned from a place of comfort. Indeed, the most important ones—the ones that shape us, refine us, and draw us ever closer to the Ancients, rarely are.

Perhaps in those first moments looking up from the ground, the young bird felt somewhat bewildered, even abandoned by the one who had shoved it out of the nest. Yet I noticed the parent was carefully watching as the fledgling flapped its wings, lured upward toward the nest by the promise of food. Eventually, the little bird lifted itself off the ground. Its path was unsure and imperfect, but it could finally fly. That moment marked the beginning of a lifelong journey; one that every young bird must take for itself, independent of its parents, siblings, or flock.

When we are yet spiritual fledglings, circumstances often drive us from the comfort of our nests. We look up with bewilderment and fear, unsure what to do as cold reality hits. We ask why we’ve been so harshly tested before we think we’re ready. Sometimes we even feel forsaken and alone, unaware that we’re being lovingly and protectively watched over. What will we choose to do next? Will we sit there where we’ve fallen, stubbornly wallowing in self-pity until hunger or the threat of predators forces us to move? Or will we keep our eyes focused upward, stretching our wings with faith and determination until we finally take flight and prepare to meet the next challenge on our path toward maturity?

Elowyn and Morganne felt much like young fledglings pushed from the nest as their circumstances took a dramatic turn. The war was closer than they expected, and not just the one that raged in the Midlands; the worst dangers awaiting them could not be vanquished with swords and arrows. Some battles can only be won with perseverance, prayer, and faith.

The tomes tell us that even though dark times must inevitably come, we shouldn’t fear what can only destroy the body and not the soul. We are promised that we are neither alone nor abandoned. Not a single sparrow falls to the ground beyond Aviad’s care, yet those He calls as children are far more valuable than sparrows. We should find comfort in such lessons, yet we are often quick to forget them when trials and persecutions overwhelm us.

Aviad’s hand is not always easy to see as it moves in our lives; we most often find traces of His powerful presence when we cast our thoughts back in time...if we’re aware enough to humbly look for it. Sometimes it is through our greatest trials that Aviad prepares us for our greatest triumphs. As I lift my pen once again to parchment, I have the advantage of looking back. Morganne and Elowyn did not when this tale was still unfolding day by day, and their future was as uncertain as their present. Even so, they pressed onward with faith, testing their wings until they finally lifted from the ground and took flight. Their paths were unsure and imperfect, but guided by an unseen hand from far above as they continued forward on a journey that no one else could take on their behalf.

A Cursed Journey

Aloud crack resounded off the walls of the mountain pass and Tervaise was suddenly flung against the side of the cart he was driving. His heart leaped into his throat with the shock of it. He barely managed to hang on while the cart bumped and skidded to a creaking stop, frighteningly close to an unforgiving wall of rock. Though the horse was spooked and tried to rush forward with all his strength, he instead found himself straining against the harness, unable to go anywhere. The damaged cart was stuck—on what Tervaise didn’t yet know. He sat there for a moment and rubbed his aching arm and shoulder. He was probably going to have some nasty bruises, but otherwise he seemed to be all right.

He tried to calm the horse with soothing words, despite the fact that his own heart and lungs were still racing faster than normal, then carefully climbed out of the leaning cart. A quick glance was all he needed to see what was wrong—one of the back wheels had broken on the rough, stone pass. It had split completely open and wedged itself firmly beneath a lip of rock jutting upwards from the road’s uneven surface. Even if he had the tools and supplies needed to replace the wheel, it would be too dangerous to try. The horse was pulling hard against the damaged cart—it would eventually break itself free and probably overturn.

Tervaise let out a heavy sigh and looked up at the position of the sun. It was still very early, as he’d left before sunrise, but the last thing he wanted was to be stuck on the pass overnight. He stroked the horse’s neck and spoke once more in soothing tones. The horse refused to calm. He whinnied anxiously and thrashed his head, still struggling to unwedge the broken cart, which shifted and creaked with the force of his movements.

Now that he had recovered from the initial shock, Tervaise wondered if the horse was alarmed over something more than a broken wheel. The animal’s widened eyes were not trying to look behind him, but ahead, over the final slope that would take them to the crossroads he’d so looked forward to reaching. There they would finally leave the straight path, which went all the way to Solis and beyond, and instead turn to descend from the mountains. The forested foothills were more hospitable. There they could find fresh water, firewood, and a comfortable place to stop for a brief rest. The road itself would take him to the safety of the Kinship’s tower, where Morganne was waiting for him to arrive with the cart. The most recent clothing order he had given her was ready to be picked up. He had promised it to a noble whose manor was just outside of Yewslea.

This unforeseen delay was inconvenient. No, more than that—it was maddening. Tervaise had already been on the road for more than a month, and there had been no shortage of problems along the way. Between lost shipments, encounters with thieves, roads blocked by skirmishes with the enemy’s army, and problems with his horse throwing shoes, he’d begun to think this trip was cursed.

No matter—once this last delivery had been made, he was going home for a well-deserved rest. It was time he checked up on his aging mother, who he worried about when he was gone for too long...especially with the present state of the world. She was the only family he had left, and she was not particularly good at staying behind in safety. She preferred the excitement of being out with him on the road. He was grateful that she had not been with him this time. The only positive side to his travels of late had been the weather. The last days of summer had been pleasant, even if the nights were now getting a bit cool for comfort, particularly this far north where the winter season always came too early for his liking.

The horse, rather than calming with time, was now on the verge of panic. His ears turned all about, straining for sounds of danger. His head jerked up and down, nostrils flaring, and his eyes had grown so wide that the whites were showing. Something wasn’t right—Tervaise was starting to sense it, too. There was an odd smell in the air...a foul wind that made him want to cover his face when he got whiffs of it. Perhaps an animal had perished on the pass and its remains were just ahead. Or maybe it was worse than that. He had not been with the Kinship when they’d come upon the tragedy at Solis, but he’d heard stories of what had transpired there. The entire community had been set upon and slaughtered without warning—not even the children had been spared. The Kinship had taken on the terrible task of burning the bodies of the villagers and the monks in the monastery perched high above. The stories they’d shared afterward were not ones he would soon forget.

These unpleasant thoughts that surfaced left his stomach churning, but the sensible thing to do was draw his sword and walk forward a short way. He wanted to see if he could figure out what was driving the normally even-tempered, plodding cart horse to near panic. Once he crested the hill, he’d have a clearer view. If the way to the crossroads was blocked, they would have to turn back...and quickly, before it got any later.

It didn’t take Tervaise long to reach the top of the hill. The horrible smell was so strong he had to suppress a gag, but he couldn’t see anything unusual. The path to the crossroads seemed clear enough. He had just turned back down the hill, determined to go onward, when he heard a low snarl. Something large and dark leaped out at him from behind the cover of a boulder, and before he quite knew what was happening, he was lifting his sword to fend off blows from an ancient looking blade. The creature who wielded it was as tall as he, with sickly, blotched skin, and bright red eyes. Its forehead was branded with a mark he did not recognize. Though he had never seen one in person, the creature’s identity was unmistakable. This was one of the dreaded Beasts encountered by the Kinship in Minhaven’s mountains, and Tervaise knew he was in serious trouble.

He took a defensive stance, knowing he was not likely to kill this creature on his own, and fervently prayed that there weren’t more of them. He let it press him downward, back toward the cart. Outrunning it on horseback was his only hope. The Beast did not let up, and did not tire. There was no hesitation in its movements. If Tervaise stumbled, if he miscalculated in any way, this fight would be over and he’d never go home again.

The closer they got to the cart, the more frantic the horse became—even the horse knew what this creature was. The cart groaned loudly and Tervaise could hear the sound of wood splitting. He didn’t have much time left before the horse got his way and the cart broke free. Aside from the risk of being trampled beneath it, if the horse got away, he’d lose his only way of escape. He couldn’t let that happen. When Tervaise got close enough, he turned and ran, leaping onto the cart just as the Beast took a swing at him. Momentarily out of reach, he raced to the front of the cart and climbed onto the horse’s bare back. With his sword, he quickly cut away the harness and held on for dear life. The Beast rushed toward the horse, but in doing so it finally made its first mistake. The horse reared up and kicked the beast hard in the chest, sending it reeling across the path and into the stone wall of the pass with crushing force. The Beast slumped down onto the ground, whether severely injured or just momentarily stunned, Tervaise didn’t know. And he didn’t wait to find out, either.

With the possibility of more Beasts lying in wait ahead, Tervaise would have gladly gone back the way he’d come, but the horse was too crazed with fear. He had no way to make him turn and go past the dark creature for the sake of the safer road. Instead they plunged forward, up the hill. It was all Tervaise could do to steer the horse onto the downward path once they reached the crossroads. As they made their way down the dangerous road at a speed that matched Tervaise’s racing heart, a sickening sound reached his ears. A single horn. It was coming from the pass behind him, where they had left the stunned Beast. Low and strong, its eerie tone sounded like something from ancient lore, filling his heart with terror. Every instinct pushed him to fly from there as fast as he could as the single note was answered by another, and then another. The Beast he’d encountered wasn’t alone. What the Beast had blown didn’t seem to be a horn of war, but one of the hunt, and he was now the prey. This trip was definitely cursed, and at this point, the only way to break it was to stay alive.

ADELIN CONTENTEDLY lifted her face to the late afternoon sky, then swept her eager gaze across the rolling landscape surrounding the tower. She knew she wasn’t really supposed to be up there, straining to see over the parapet, but that didn’t matter. Since she wasn’t allowed to leave the tower alone, it was sometimes the only way to get fresh air and feel the sun against her skin. Most of the time she could slink past the men who were training—as long as Bane wasn’t there. She just couldn’t stay so long that Morganne set out to look for her.

To improve her view, she’d carried a rock up to the battlements one day, hidden in a grain sack. She secretly called it her looking rock, because when she stood on it, she could see everything—the horse pasture, the fields, and clusters of small buildings and gardens. In the distance rose the tall steeple of the chapel, and further beyond that the foothills of the mountains. Leading into those foothills was a road that went up to the mountain pass. She’d been told that she had traveled along it some time ago...that she and her sisters had come from another village far away. But she didn’t really remember. Aside from a few disjointed and hazy memories that lurked in the back of her mind now and then, this was the only place she really knew and cared to call home.

Just as she was ready to shift her gaze elsewhere, movement on the road caught her attention. Someone was traveling along it—fast—but she had no idea who. She squinted, trying to determine shape and form through small breaks in the trees. It was a man, riding a horse, and behind him...she couldn’t tell. People running, only they weren’t quite like people. Dark skinned and strangely dressed, from what little she could see that far away. The rider finally broke beyond the barrier of the forest, onto the part of the road bordered by fields and meadows. He was still some distance away, but she could tell that something about the rider was all wrong.

The horse. That was it. She’d been learning about horses from Bane, and whenever she could, she would visit them in the stables and in the pasture, rubbing their necks and sneaking them sweet bits of carrot and apple. She finally recognized the man as Tervaise, who visited regularly to collect orders of finished clothing from Morganne. Though he was pressing the poor beast beneath him as though it was one of the Kinship’s chargers, it was just an ordinary carthorse. It had a wide, heavy body and short, thick legs, certainly not suited for speed.

Tervaise had no saddle or proper reins. He was barely hanging on as the horse careened down the road, its eyes wild and nostrils flaring as it gasped for breath. Tervaise didn’t need to urge it on—even from that distance, Adelin could tell that it was terrified. Then the other forms cleared the forest as well, and she understood why. Beasts. She had heard the men talking about them plenty, but had never actually seen one.

She’d only caught a quick glimpse of what they looked like in Morganne’s book. Though she knew she wasn’t supposed to touch it, the forbidden mystery surrounding the book had been all too enticing. One day she’d actually dared to open it and quickly wished she hadn’t. On the page before her was the detailed image of a Beast. After that, she’d never touched the book again. She shuddered as she recalled encountering the dark creatures in her nightmares afterward. Now here they were, no longer confined to parchment, but real, living nightmares that the sun couldn’t chase away.

Calls rang out along the battlements. There was no need for Adelin to give away her secret by sounding the alarm, for the men on watch had already noticed too and were springing into action. She could hear them rushing through the double wooden doors that led to the staircase. Their heavy footfalls echoed off the stone walls as they clambered down to the armor room and out the front door. Moments later, she could hear men shouting orders far below her, though she could not see who was giving them. Adelin dragged her looking rock to the eastern wall of the battlements, repositioning herself as Tervaise neared the tower and the Kinship rushed along the road to his aid.

The men formed a blockade with their bodies and shields once Tervaise had passed safely through—one that hopefully would withstand the impact of the oncoming Beasts. Adelin watched, wide-eyed and breathless as the two lines met with shocking force. After that, she could only perceive a sickening chaos of swift movements and flashing metal that she couldn’t quite follow. Her heart racing, she stepped off the rock to shield herself from the sight of the dark creatures. What if they managed to win? What if they got inside the tower?

No, she thought firmly. The Kinship will win. Bane would never let them get me.

With that assurance firmly in her mind, curiosity got the best of her and she dared to stand on her looking rock once more. Even though the Kinship’s men outnumbered the Beasts, she could tell it was a hard fight, with two to three men against each Beast. Their strange, blotchy skin and blood red eyes frightened her. One of them glanced upward at the tower for a brief moment—right at her, it seemed. The back of her neck and scalp tingled and her heart skipped so hard that her lungs had a hard time keeping up with it. Once more she lost her nerve and had to duck down behind the parapet. By the time she was ready to look again, the battle had moved into the shadow of the tower, and no matter how she stretched and pushed herself onto her toes, she was simply too small to see what was happening.

Adelin dragged her looking rock away from the parapet and pushed it against the wall before cautiously making her way back inside. She crept down the stairs in silence, the rush of men having already gone before her. When she reached the bottom, she found the armor room was still a buzzing hive of activity, with some members of the Kinship preparing to join their companions in battle, and others ushering in a harried, disheveled looking Tervaise. His appearance was distressing for Adelin, who had never before seen him in such a state. Tervaise’s visits were always so pleasant and put everyone around her in a good mood. Even when he was tired, he bore a kind smile, and he was always clean and well-groomed. Sometimes he brought her small trinkets from faraway places.

Today was different. His fine clothing was torn and sweaty, smeared with dirt and traces of blood. The smile had been replaced with deep lines of concern, and his breaths came heavy and quick as though he’d been running instead of the horse. Adelin froze when she saw Glak standing there. He was giving orders to his men while strapping on his own armor in preparation to join them. If anyone was likely to see her and have her sent to her room, it was Glak. When he was around, there was very little he didn’t notice. Adelin was determined not to be sent away just yet. She wanted to know what was happening. She was curious, yes. But she also needed reassurance, and not the false, condescending sort adults typically gave while trying to protect her. All too often such assurances were made based on promises she knew they couldn’t really keep. She slid against the wall, slipping quietly behind one of the armor stands when Glak turned his head away from her to address Tervaise.

Glak clearly wanted answers, too. His expression was more grave than usual, and that was saying a lot. Adelin always thought Glak was far too serious, and she tended to avoid him when she could. Something about his demeanor made her cautious. He’d never been unkind to her, but at the same time, he couldn’t be charmed with sweet words and a smile. Adelin turned her ear toward the two men and tried her best to focus on what they were saying. The chaos of sound echoing off the stone walls was making it difficult. She’d managed to hear Beasts and attacked on the pass and abandoned the cart. She understood this much only because she could see Tervaise’s lips moving. She had no idea what Glak had said in response, as his back was now turned toward her.

Adelin frowned with annoyance when two other men moved into the room, blocking her view of Tervaise. She slid further along the wall, down to the next armor stand, and then the next, until she was much closer to where Glak and Tervaise were standing. No one noticed, but that was not unusual. At times, she was convinced that she could make herself invisible—and she liked it that way. It allowed her to explore the world in ways she never could have if the entire Kinship’s gaze was just as scrutinizing as that of Glak, Morganne, and Bane. The tower was old, and she’d discovered it had strange little nooks and passages that the others seemed to miss. Like the little door tucked behind one of the wall tapestries in the Great Hall.

She’d found it one day while looking for a place to hide—from Morganne, truth be told, who had determined it was bathing day. Adelin disliked bathing day. The warm water felt nice for a little while, even if there didn’t seem to be enough of it in the small wooden tub. But she hated when the water got in her face. Even more, she hated standing there shivering with cold when the bath was done while Morganne dried her off. It was always difficult to get dressed again, with the clothing sticking to her damp skin. Then came the seemingly endless task of combing out her hair and waiting for it to dry again. Yes, she definitely hated bathing day.

On that particular bathing day, she’d slipped behind the tapestry to hide and accidentally discovered the little door. It was made to look just like the wall itself, except that there was a tiny handle—a simple, iron ring—sticking out. Adelin had pulled it, and the door had swung outward, revealing a small, dark space. Inside it there were two ladders. One went upward, and one went down. Both disappeared into deep pools of darkness, and she had no idea where they went. Her mind had filled with all sorts of ideas about what might be at the ends of those ladders. Some were very nasty ideas that afterward filled her dreams with worry. But in that moment, her main concern had been the complete, stifling darkness of that place...and the sticky feeling of a spider’s web brushing against her arm. With a quick shiver, she had exited and pushed the door closed again, thinking perhaps she’d best get her bath after all. Maybe it would wash away the sticky feeling of the web.

There was no secret door in the armor room. Not that she’d found yet, anyway. But at least she was still small enough to slip behind the stands, and even some of the decorative shields, and listen in on the men’s conversations. It was sometimes the only way to find out all the things that no one would talk about in front of her. Like the war, which had drug on for years now, and didn’t seem to be going all that well. Adelin gazed up at Tervaise, her large blue eyes scrutinizing his face. He was tired, and in pain. The thick shock of auburn hair that always dropped down across his forehead was limp with sweat. He usually had a habit of sweeping the hair back away from his face, but so far he hadn’t bothered. Though his gaze was turned toward Glak, who was now speaking to him again, his focus was somewhere else. Maybe on the source of the pain. She tried not to stare at the blood on his clothing; the sight of it made her feel strange. She wondered if all of it was his.

As more men filed out the narrow tower door, the noise gradually died down enough that Adelin could hear again.

It is no longer safe to be out on the road alone, Glak was saying. I will assign a few men to travel with you from now on.

I would never ask you to waste the Kinship’s resources in such a way, Tervaise replied. Surely their swords are put to better use elsewhere. I can hire my own men.

If you were only transporting basic goods, I would agree. But we cannot entrust your more...sensitive runs...to mercenaries, nor draw attention to them by suddenly using different guards.

No, Tervaise relented. I suppose not. Honestly, I did not expect to find this sort of trouble so far north. I am just glad that Mother was not with me this time.

How fare the Midlands? Glak asked in a sober tone. "Messages from Lord Cuthbert are very brief and do not come often.

Tervaise hesitated, gathering his thoughts carefully. Strange...and very tense. The longer this stalemate goes on, the more it wears on the lords of that region, who would rather fight than sit waiting on a never-moving battle line. They have stopped sending men on the offensive, spilling blood only when necessary to keep vital farmlands from being overrun. Once lively villages are all but deserted. Only those needed to work the fields remain, and under heavy guard. Harvest time is particularly dire as the wyverns regularly circle overhead. In an instant the entire summer’s labor could go up in flame, and with it men’s hopes for surviving another winter. No one knows why the enemy has not advanced—they clearly have the advantage. It is probably the question that keeps most everyone awake at night.

I must join the rest of the men, now. You’ll find everything you need to tend that wound up in the infirmary. We’ll talk more later, Glak said before disappearing through the door. Disappointment washed over Adelin’s features. It was unlikely she’d get another chance to listen in.

Tervaise turned to slowly climb the tower stairs, leaving Adelin alone in the armor room. Or so she thought. She stepped out from the armor stand she’d been hiding behind to find Bane standing there, fully armed and dressed to join the battle. He was staring down at her with a slight frown on his face. Just where had he come from, anyway? Adelin glanced upward sheepishly and flashed him what was meant to be a disarming smile. Sometimes that worked. Apparently not today, though.

It is never wise to spy on one’s friends, Bane said. It damages the bond of trust between you.

Only if you’re caught. The words came out before she thought better of them. Bane’s frown deepened.

And sometimes even when you aren’t. Particularly when you hear things not meant for you—things you may not fully understand. Trust goes two ways, Adelin. Do you understand?

Yes, Papa. She looked down, twisting the toe of her shoe into a crack in the stone floor.

Now, go join your sisters in your chamber and lock the door until someone comes for you.

Adelin nodded compliantly and headed toward the stairs. As she turned to ascend them, she looked back at him, catching a flash of something in his expression that she couldn’t quite place—a spark of amusement, perhaps, that disappeared the moment she’d noticed it.

Go on, hurry now, he said sternly.

Adelin did as she was told and went upstairs. She pushed open the door only to find that their chambers were no less chaotic than the armor room had been. The antechamber was filled with chests, sewing supplies, fabric scraps, bolts of cloth, and all of the finished garments Morganne had been working on so hard over the previous months. They’d been made ready in anticipation of Tervaise’s arrival. From beyond the clutter of the antechamber, Adelin could hear Elowyn yelling. Her ears perked to attention. Elowyn rarely raised her voice.

We have to get out!

Adelin peeked through the doorway to see Elowyn sitting in the chair beneath the open window, lines of panic drawn across her face. Beads of sweat had formed along her hairline, and Morganne was standing over her, trying to calm her down. Whiffs of a foul odor came in on the breeze. Adelin had no idea what it was, but she quickly covered her face with her sleeve to escape it. Morganne reached up to shut the window, then brought her full attention back to Elowyn, whose face had completely drained of color.

Bane said to stay here, Adelin said in a stubborn tone, suddenly remembering she was supposed to have locked the door. We have to stay here until he comes for us.

It’s too dark in here, I can’t see anything, Elowyn protested.

Adelin cocked her head sideways for a moment in confusion. With so few windows, their chambers didn’t get much daylight, but they weren’t so dark that you couldn’t see anything.

What if we get trapped? Elowyn gasped as if there wasn’t enough air, and her eyes darted about, desperately seeking something they couldn’t seem to find.

It’s all right, Morganne said in a soothing voice. We’ll get out.

A flash of understanding finally swept across Adelin’s face. Elowyn was having one of her visions again—she wasn’t seeing their chambers at all. Adelin shied away from Elowyn suspiciously and sat down on the bed where she could watch from a safer distance. She’d seen Elowyn like this before, though it was rare that she spoke aloud while she was having a vision. Usually she only stared ahead, blank-faced and unresponsive. She only seemed to behave this way when she was in great distress over whatever she was seeing. Adelin didn’t like it. She would have fled their chambers if she could, but Bane had told her to stay. There were worse dangers than Elowyn’s vision to worry about.

We cannot let the Beasts take the relic, Elowyn whispered loudly, reaching into a side pouch that wasn’t there, and fingering an object within that only had substance in her own mind.

Maybe she knows about the Beasts’ attack after all, Adelin mused.

We won’t let them get it, Morganne promised. Her firm tone belied the look of helplessness on her face. It was obvious even to Adelin that she didn’t know what else to say. She had no idea what vision was playing out in Elowyn’s mind and could do nothing to stop it, either. All she could do was try to keep Elowyn calm until it was over.

Why does Bane want us to say here? Morganne asked, turning sharply toward Adelin as though she’d finally heard her words for the first time.

Because of the Beasts.

Some of the color drained from Morganne’s face. What Beasts?

The ones that were following Tervaise.

What? Morganne exclaimed, thoroughly alarmed now.

Adelin shrank back against the bed. Her stomach was starting to hurt a little. She wished she could leave—not that she was sure where she’d go. She just wanted to get away from the ball of uneasiness growing in her stomach. Her sisters’ fears were starting to eat away at that bold assurance she’d felt while watching events unfold from the safety of the battlements.

She watched Morganne try desperately to get Elowyn to wake from her vision, but it was no use. Morganne then withdrew her anelace and strode to the door, daring to open it just enough to peer outside. She turned her ear toward the opening, as if she was listening for any sign that the tower itself had been breached. But everything was still and eerily quiet. Morganne shut the door again and locked it before straining to look out from one of the small windows. Intermittent whiffs of the foul odor returned as soon as she opened them.

Morganne sheathed her anelace and closed the windows, letting loose a heavy sigh that betrayed both her anxiety and frustration. The sound of metal clashing against metal rose from somewhere far below, but there was nothing to see. Morganne turned her attention once again to Elowyn, who was coming out of the vision. Elowyn looked up at Morganne with eyes that were finally seeing her true surroundings, though her expression was still somewhat confused as she seemed to be trying to sort out what was real. Morganne handed her some water and a piece of treadsole root to nibble on.

Take it slowly, Morganne said gently. That was a strong one.

Elowyn nodded, but said nothing. Adelin couldn’t help but notice the trembling of her hands, and how her complexion had taken on a peculiar shade of green. She hoped Elowyn wasn’t going to throw up, because then she would end up doing the same. Adelin felt beneath the blankets for her doll, Alys, and grasped onto her tightly for comfort. She was starting to get a bit threadbare, but Adelin refused to allow Morganne to either repair her or make a new one. Alys was special, and Adelin loved her just the way she was.

What did you see? Morganne asked with eager desperation.

The tower was under attack by Beasts, Elowyn replied in a low, quivering voice. And the three of us were in a small, dark place. I don’t know where. I just remember the suffocating feeling, and the need to get away. The vision was strong, and frightening, but I saw very little. There was no clear message—just a flash of confused events that I’m not sure how to sort out.

Morganne silently chided herself for not immediately recognizing the terrible smell coming through their window as something more than the stench of the privy pits, which they sometimes got when the breeze was just right, or of fields newly fertilized with dung. It had been so long since she’d encountered anything with the Beasts’ smell that she’d nearly forgotten...but only nearly. The fear it inspired was fresh now that she recognized it. The only thing worse than having to stay locked up with no idea what was happening, was the idea of having to face the Beasts herself. Though she’d been training with the men for some time now, her skills were inadequate to fight such creatures, who were difficult enough for seasoned fighters to defeat.

Elowyn’s gaze moved from Morganne’s face, to Adelin’s, then back again. Even in her foggy state of mind, she could tell something had changed in the brief time since her vision had whisked her away, not to another place, but to another time it would seem. She swallowed hard as the realization hit. It was rare that her visions included her—usually they were about events that would happen in other places, and to other people. The distance helped make them easier to bear. This vision, or rather the terror it had instilled in her, would one day have to be relived again...in reality, and not just as part of a vision. She nibbled fiercely on the treadsole root, trying to quiet the sickness in her stomach. What is wrong? she dared to ask.

I need you to tell me every detail of that vision, as quickly as you can, Morganne said.

Why? Elowyn asked, perplexed by the urgency in her voice. Usually Morganne gave her time to recover before she plied her with questions.

Because the Beasts are already here.

Messengers from the Midlands

The smell of burning bodies was heavy on the air—a thick, choking smell that made even Elowyn want to run back into the tower just to get away from it. She had finally dared to emerge after what seemed like an eternity of huddling terrified and breathless with her sisters in their chambers. They had waited until the sounds of clashing metal had long ended, and through their opened window, they could clearly hear human voices calling out to one another. Morganne had wanted Elowyn to stay until Bane came for them as he’d instructed, but Elowyn was still feeling unsettled from her vision and needed to see for herself what had happened. As she stood there trying not to gag on the horrible smell that seemed to permeate everything, she wondered if perhaps Morganne had been wise to stay in their chambers with Adelin after all.

At the onset of the battle, the Kinship had pulled all the servants out of the kitchen, which was in a separate building just off the road, and ushered them into the tower for their own safety. Now it was dinner time and there was no meal, but it didn’t matter. The stench was so nauseating no one wanted to eat anyway. The battle decisively over, the bodies of the defeated Beasts were being thrown onto a pyre of oil-soaked wood in the middle of a field. The flames reached high up into the sky, and the intense heat and noxious odor of burnt flesh and hair held everyone back to a safe distance.

Those who had homes and farms close around the tower gradually emerged in small, quiet groups, pressed by both fear and curiosity. Some of them had watched the Beasts chase Tervaise down the road, and listened to the ensuing fight from hiding, not knowing quite what was going on. More than one prayer had gone up to Aviad that families and homes would be spared. The people there had never seen a Beast before that day, and tales of the tragedy at Solis had seemed distant and surreal—surely no such thing could befall their remote little valley. The killing of a strange monk who had tried to abduct a little girl from the chapel was the only exciting thing that had taken place in recent years, and even that incident had largely been forgotten in the midst of the mundane labors brought about by the ever-changing seasons. Whatever had brought these horrific Beasts into their quiet landscape, they hoped that the incident would quickly fade into hazy memory, like the monk’s death had.

The Kinship hoped the same, but realized it was probably a futile hope. They knew now that the Beasts were close by, and if they were not hunted down and dealt with, more such instances were likely to occur. Tervaise had barely escaped, and it was fortunate for him that the Kinship was alert and prepared enough to quickly come to his aid. Someone who was weaker and not so well trained as Tervaise would not have survived.

Elowyn noted that there were children among the curious onlookers. The boys were looking up in awe at the Kinship warriors, many of whom bore dark bruises or fresh bandages. There were a few little girls as well. Some of them she’d seen from a distance, helping their mothers tend cottage gardens or animals in the fields. They never strayed far enough from their homes and labors for her to interact with them. One of the girls tentatively approached Elowyn. Her rosy face was framed by braids of dark brown hair. She wore a rough peasant dress that was clean enough, but getting a bit small for her and showing signs of hard wear. She seemed so young, with her wide, innocent eyes taking in the burning pyre, piled with creatures she’d never encountered even in her worst nightmares. Elowyn suddenly realized that the girl was probably the same age she had been when she’d traveled the pass from Minhaven. It was strange how that event seemed so recent, and yet at the same time so distant, as though her days in Minhaven belonged to both yesterday and another lifetime.

Do you live in the tower, too? the girl asked shyly.

Yes, Elowyn replied.

It must be wonderful to live in such a grand place, the girl said, gazing upon the tower as though it held all the majesty of Tyroc Castle. Elowyn followed her gaze and shrugged.

It’s all right.

She often took for granted how imposingly the stone structure loomed over its surroundings. It was certainly the most