Skyswept - Chapter Nine

Vaithe had crept through the forest, careful to remain as silent as the creatures that lurked beneath the shadows, the woodland beasts she had no choice but to tread amongst, and she had at last stepped through into the clearing as the moons fell beyond the horizon.

The timing was fortuitous. She dread the thought of traversing the wilds during the utter darkness of the descent, the world as black as those damnable dread horses.

Shrouded by incomparable shadows, she stood as motionless as she could manage with her breath held deep within her chest, until the dawn's rise touched the heavens and enriched the sky with its golden hues. Her lungs screamed for release, her exhale long-desired as she closed her eyes and allowed the morning's warmth to fall upon her upturned face.

It had been hours.

She had near expected the abominable mage to have arrived in the glade long before her entrance, with that smug grin embedded into his face as he turned to greet her, jovial and nonchalant as ever. But, she was alone.

It was the first time she had been without companionship in several seasons, and the circumstances that surrounded their separation caused her an unexpected pain as she realised that despite her misgivings and his bizarre actions, she actually cared for the infuriating man.

The gentle warmth of the morning sun did nothing to alleviate her rising anxieties. Darien was gone, and she had so many questions. They spun circles about her mind in a never-ending flurry as she wondered how Darien's wound healed as instantly as he had caused it, how the dread horses did not sense his cursed blood, and her fear rose tenfold as she wondered if the horseman had succeeded in his capture.

The Magisters could not know of Darien's existence! She did not understand why, but she felt the fact as true as the cycle she existed within and she prayed to the Three that he would step through the thick growth and enter the clearing. Now.

He did not.

It was her fault. The Magister had cast his enchantment about her as easily as a plainscat would ensnare its prey, and Darien's hand had been forced. At that realisation another question entered her mind and joined the others in their incessant circles. Why had he cared?

Her eyes downcast, she turned away from the forest's edge and seated herself by the pond. It was a perfect circle, located in the exact centre of the glade, and its surface mirrored the heavens above without fault. The soft twitter of birdsong emanated around her in a futile attempt to uplift her saddened heart, their melody almost as sweet as the forgotten song that drifted about the ruins of the castle's courtyard, and the rising sun bathed the autumnal trees that surrounded her with an effervescent light and life.

It was beautiful. With her head buried between her knees, and her concealed tears running streams down her cheeks, she wished that she could enjoy it.