The Conjured and the exiles

Daen had grown accustomed to having to get used to new places. After fleeing from Nheim she had to, it hadn’t really an option. Her natural curiosity had helped her a grate deal in this, and she had a gift for making herself at home no mater where she was. Standing out on one of the battlements Daen lent on the wall and watched the sun set over her new home paining all the lime washed houses below her pink and purple. Tonight the sky over Bala was a deep blue tinted with pink, the cold winter mist that crept down from the mountains and hung over the lake in a silvery blue haze over which the crescent moon hung as if it was strung between the two mountains. Little squares of light spilled out on the steep narrow streets from the houses in the city below. Two children were called in from their play by their mother who stood in the warm rectangle of light as night finally stole the last of the light and the warmth from the day.


At first she had been overawed by the city. Not the size of it as Bala wasn’t really quite a city, more a very large town; certainly it was not a city like Mawnaws, a huge sprawling metropolis, but no place should be so dreamily graceful and yet reassuringly solid. Bala seemed to have been craved from the very rock it stood upon, in some of the buildings it was nearly impossible to find the joins between the massive blocks of stone used to build it yet at same time graceful pillars and arches soared impossibly high, with twining stone net work spanning gaps it looked delicate like a frosty cobweb. Daen was comforted by the impression that the city was as solid as the mountains that surrounded it.


She listened to the stillness of the early winter eave, it was if the whole city was taking a giant calming breath between people returning home and time spent having diner around the hearth. The only sound was the ever present gurgle and rush of the spring like a gentle tune on a harp playing as a companion to the stillness. One of the strangest things about the city was the stream that cut through it, sometimes falling feet at a time in to pools where fountain heads then let it fall again, it’s constant noise and rush was an odd contrast to the stillness of the pale stone.


Perhaps it was just the beauty of the place, but for once in a long time Daen felt at peace. It was no wonder that Darcia didn’t like to leave his seat unlike most nobles who preferred to spend most of there time at court. The scenery was second to none. The land of the falling lakes was exactly that, torrential mountain streams feed a multitude of lakes, which spilt from one another by a series of waterfalls. Small villages and towns huddled on the lake shores, some built of white stone like Bala, and others of wood from the western forest.


Since arriving in Bala Daen had found herself extremely busy with hardly a moment to call her own, as Lord Darcia had managed to arrange her every wakening moment to be filled with instruction of some kind. The majority of her time was spent in the library learning Chade, and time spent in the temple with the priestesses who in Chade tried to instruct her to use her ‘Gifts’ and her role as a sybilla. There efforts at first were met with varying success, as sometimes the concepts abstract in themselves were nearly impossible to put in to words, and although Daen’s Chade was improving simply because she was forced to speak it the whole time, Daen couldn’t grasp what in the world they were going on about, even if it was articulated with lots of hand gestures. After a week of no progress Daen began to wonder if she was just stupid but then Veione had admitted when he had found her struggling over a translation that priestesses had given her that he didn’t understand a word of what they were going on about during one of the weekly services to Daere the grate mother and Luere her daughter the moon let alone any complicated or intricate spiritual techniques!


And so this moment of stolen time before dinner was precious for Daen. She had hardly spent any time alone since arriving here, she was always meeting people, half of the time she spent desperately trying to match names to faces. Still being constantly busy she had not had time to brood much over her situation, and now that she looked the deep desperate loneliness she had felt on her first night had almost gone. On her first night in Bala she had thrown herself down on her new bed, which was even more comfortable than the one she had slept in Spires and cried. You can be surrounded by people and still feal utterly alone, and sometimes she did, but not as often now. Here in this clean city, by the glittering lake at the base of the mountains, for days at a time she could forget herself and simply be.
One of Timor’s young hounds came to join her on the battlements; it was a huge creature, the size of a sheep, and black all over except for a rich red brown belly. Its cold nose nuzzled her hand, its brown loving eyes looking up at her hopefully. ‘Helo Luff.’ She greeted him and bent down to hug the hound and buried her face and hands in his thick soft winter coat. The second young dog came to join them, making a jealous sounding wine as it approached. ‘Oh you to Buff.’ Daen smiled and petted the bitch pup. ‘Where’s your master hrm?’ she asked the two dogs. The only answer they ventured was to wag there tales. ‘Let’s go find him then.’ She said and the dogs followed her before trotting on ahead they knew it was dinner time.


Daen made her way down the airy and slightly chilly hall to the smaller dining hall. Not as grand as the banquet hall, but it was a good deal warmer. Inside Veione and was already sitting with a glass of wine in his hand, Captain Kef was besides him with his small blond wife getting scolded for not washing his hands. It never failed to amuse Daen to see the monster of a man cower before the scolding tongue of his busty little misses. It was like seeing a bear cower away from a robin. There were an assortment of other members of the house hold, maids, pages, footmen, forester’s pretty well any member of the household was welcome to eat at their lords table, of course some chose to eat with their families or had to eat earlier or later due to their chores, but the kitchen Daen had discovered was always working, like an iron furnace in the mining towns of the Cwarmourth the hearth was never allowed to go out, something was always cooking.

However Lord Darcia was once again missing. The past few weeks Daen had seen little of her dark lord, his own business keeping him as busy as she was. She saw him to talk to briefly occasionally during the day in passing, she had been out hunting the stag through the snowy forest with him one rest day, and last span he had summoned her to spend some time with him in his study during a long snowy afternoon, as he quizzed her on what she had learned so far. Daen found herself looking forward to the brief moments that she saw her lord, even settling for the scent of him in a room. But his absences at diner were causing some discussion, apparently he had always previously eaten with his household, at first it was excusable he was a very busy man. But in time people began to ask why he was never present and they looked to Daen with curiosity. However there had been a new rumour thrown in to the mix that Daen could not ignore, someone knew about the Safora band, and had been spreading around that she was Lord Darcia’s sex salve. And Daen was sure she knew who it was who started the vicious rumour, Captain Vespa.


Daen settled herself next to Veione. ‘What’s up Filly you look like some ones pissed on your grave?’


‘Nothing really it doesn’t mater.’ Daen said as she helped herself to some cuts of ham, and some winter greens.

‘It’s about that rumour isn’t it?’Daen’s hand went to her choker.

Veione smiled sympathetically and petted her free hand, ‘Don’t worry no one really believes it, it will blow over soon.’

Timor entered the room now and the hound pups left staring up at Daen’s plate to go greet their master. Accompanying

Timor was a small woman dressed in leather armour, the scout captain, Captain Vaspa. Daen looked down at her plate trying to ignore captain Vespa’s intense glare and sly smile. ‘She would have to come in and ruin my meal.’

‘That’s all we need, haven’t you two made nice yet?’ Veione asked.

‘I’m willing to leave her be,’ Daen protested. ‘But every time she sees me she just can’t help but take another stab at me.’

‘It takes two to quarrel.’ Veione said.

‘’Ha!’ Daen retorted. ‘I don’t care if she is a captain. If she is fool enough to poke me I will snap the finger clean off that dose the poking.’

Vespa flicked her deep brown plat back over her shoulder and sat down opposite Daen, talking to Timor, but it was obvious to whom the comment was ment for. ‘Timor am I right in saying that thought historically slave girls were not supposed to talk to other men without their masters being present?’ She turned her hazily eyes to Daen. ‘Oh I wonder what Lord Darcia would think seeing you so cosied up to captain Veione?’

‘Vespa.’ Timor warned but it was too late and two pairs of female green eyes glared at each other across the table. To say they disliked each other was not entirely correct, rather the two women from the beginning entered in to a business partnership devoted to the mutual and reprisal hatred of each other. Daen suspected that Captain Vespa hated her from the second she laid eyes upon her. Veione had introduced Daen to Darcia’s scout captain, Daen had been surprised that she was a woman, but what surprised Daen even more was that the two women standing side by side could almost pass as sisters. Vespa had the same elfin features, the same rich brown hair, through without the golden shimmer Daen’s had, and the same green eyes, though Vespa’s were more muddy than bright.

Daen carefully put her knife and fork down. ‘Well since I don’t open my legs to every man in the castle I don’t think it’s a problem.’

Veione tried to hold in a chuckle, Vespa’s easiness was well known in the city. Vespa’s mouth opened for a moment, but then she smiled evilly ‘Your lucky to be born so beautiful else no man would look twice at a frigid, pathetic little girl like you. Not that I listen to gossip, but I have heard that lord Darcia is growing bored of you.’

‘Oh yes I remember you make it a rule never to repeat gossip.’ Daen replied. ‘There’s no need to, Your the one who always starts it.’

‘I’m the one who finishes it too.’ Vespa snarled.

‘Why don't we play horse? I'll be the head and you just be yourself.’ Daen smirked not impressed or intimidated by the other woman’s threat.

Vespa stood up her face flushed, her eyes flashing angrily as she stalked out of the room. Daen managed to suppress her triumphant smile, it was better to look nonchalant.

‘You could ignore her.’ Veione said braking in to her spiteful thoughts, ‘Don’t rise to the bait, and she will soon lose interest.’

‘No, no she wont I know her type, she will think I’m week and will be on me twice as bad as before.’


Over the next few weeks Daen had several more dramatic encounters with the Scout captain. They would cross paths and then Vespa would make an offhand waspish comment loud enough for everyone to hear. Or Vespa would sneer at the younger woman in the guise of being helpful treating her as one would a useless frail lady, something that really pissed the young Nheimian woman off. Any one in Bala with a lick of comon sense knew to simply put up with the wasp captain’s moods, you simply took your lumps, ducked your head, and got the whole thing over with as soon as possible. But Daen always fought back and with her quick whit usually won. People noticed, and she soon had a reputation for being fearless. But still Vespa sought the girl out, like a dog to stupid to avoid a hedgehog to snap at her rival and leave with a face full if burs, and a little more hate in both of their breasts.

At first Daen thought that the captain must be from Nehim, but she realised that she was only half right the woman was an Isra, one who travels in darkness, one of the families who had left Nheim turning away from the sun god Helu to forever wonder never to settle, cursed for their heresy. Daen had been willing to overlook her inbred prejudices; after all she was an exile now to. But from the very first Vespa for some inexplicable reason seemed determined to belittle and undermine her. And Daen was not one to simply take been bullied.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


Leoff walked out of the arena. He had killed every last one of those men. They were all gladiators, none of them were used to fighting in a group, and so Leoff had turned the advantage of numbers against them. He was surprised by how much he despised them at first, he had been a death match competitor himself not long ago, but upon being sponsored the idea that you were better than them had permeated him. Constantly they were told they were better, that they mattered, that you were important because a noble cared what happed to you, that these scum were not fit to blunt his blade upon. That whole philosophy was wrong of course, Leoff was living the prof of that, but it was strange how the belief had got in to him as well.

It was strange, normally Leoff didn’t think much about much when he fought, his attention usually to tied up with the fight itself. But it was if time had slowed down to give him more room to think, perhaps it was because these were going to be the last few moments of his brief existence. He wondered what had driven these men in to death matches, most of the answers ended in money, money for drugs, debts, a family and fines.

When every one of them had lain dying in the sand, Leoff had left he didn’t celibate his victory. He left like a man leaving an unpleasant job he had to do. Also standing was a severe act of will. He could feal blood dripping down his leg, warm and sticky. There was a burning band of pain in his side from where one had got past his guard. With a near heroic effort he managed to walk in to the dark archway. Walking not staggering until he was out of the crowd’s sight; He would not give lady Sienna the satisfaction of seeing him hurt. They were the longest ten steps of his life. Once he reached the end of the tunnel he collapsed against the wall.

Vas was their by him straight away. ‘Oh gods, i thought that they were going to kill you!’

‘They might have yet.’ Leoff said grimly, his vision was fading. Vas steadied him around the shoulders. ‘Let’s see how bad this is.’ Leoff murmured lifting up his hand from where it had been applying pressure on his wound. Blood burbled up as soon as he did. The distraught look on Vas’s face told him everything he needed to know. ‘That bad huh?’

Vas helped haul his friend to the infirmary with more haste than care, manhandling him up on to the stone table. He held the young man’s blood slick hand as they waited for the surgeon. He was practically dancing with agitation. The two healers stood by but didn’t do anything, much to Vas’s growing annoyance, the dark eyes man glared at them, but all they did was shift uncomfortably, finally he snapped. ‘Well isn’t anyone going for the surgeon?’

‘We can’t get the surgeon until his master says so.’

‘What, that’s ridiculous...surely...’

A steward entered then looking down at the blood on the floor and the tense scene in front of him. ‘Look, it’s the way it is, we can’t do anything until his master gives the go ahead, after all they are the ones paying for it.’

Leoff let out a soft laugh from his table. ‘After all that, she’s going to kill me, figures.’

Vas hurried back to the stone table and his prone friend, letting off worrying the healers. ‘Leoff it will be alright.’ He looked up at the steward, ‘what if I paid the surgeon?’

Leoff griped his friends hand back. ‘Vas you don’t have a copper to your name at the moment.’

‘I know that, but I could pawn my lute...and.’ The grateful, reproachful look in Leoff’s hazel eyes stopped him.

‘Lord Edouard’s given the go ahead, the surgeon is on his way.’ An errand boy said poking his head around the door.

‘By the mother finally!’ Vas exclaimed. But they were not out of the woods yet.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

One part of her mind worked on the basket she was weaving, but the other part of her mind was far elsewhere, deep in the snowy forest walking with Samigina who showed her a world through new older eyes. A Tree. Bark, sap, the clean pine scent, the air and the light, all coming and going through the tree. And the tree has a spirit of its own, alien to her own concepts of a spirit, but it was there, familiar in its presence yet its self incomprehensible to her, tree suddenly seemed like such a poor word to describe it.

‘Dae.’

The girl slowly lifted her eyes up from the basket in front of her. With an effort of will she concentrated on the benevolent face of the priestess. The priestess called her name again. And Daen like waking up pulled herself free of the forest to settle wholly back in to her own body. When she opened her eyes again after blinking she took a sudden deep breath as if braking from deep water. The sensation of pine needles beneath cloven hoofs, and cool winter air through her hair all faded abruptly. She was in the temple work room, a long hall like room, with arched windows running down the one side to let in ample amounts of the pale winter light. On the floor besides her was another younger adolescent girl who also wove a basket, her slow dreamlike movements, gentle mantra humming, and vacent eyes indicative of her trance like state.


Daen looked down at her basket, she would never make a weaver, but at last her spirit walking was improving. Even if the Priestesses had to force her out of her body by having her repeat the same mindless tasks for days on end. It was a strange sensation to have one’s mind split in two, it had taken Daen a while to reach that level of concentration. At first it was simply a mater of been able to day dream while working, then Samigina had began to entertain her, and eventually she had felt comfortable enough to leave her body and follow Samigina in her wanderings . However once back in her own body she would feel bone weary as if she hadn’t slept in days, and raw as if her skin did not separate her from the world. In her state of heightened awareness she could feel that the priestess’s arthritis was playing up because of the cold, this made her testy and impatient.

‘Dae,’ the priestess repeated, ‘You are too young to sustain such a state the whole morning!’ Her accent was thick Marchadian, so many of the t’s sounded more like z’s and all the w’s like v’s.

‘I’m older than Stella.’ Daen answered indicating to the girl besides her.

‘Stella is more experienced, she has been training in the service of Luer since she was six, and her meditation never takes her much further than the temple walls.’

‘I’ve been here all morning; it does not feel like it?’

‘I’m sure it did not. Yet I expect the weariness you should feel now will convince you of it.’ Daen looked out of one of the broad arched windows, and the low positioning of the sun convinced her of the advanced hour. ‘Come on the high priestess had been waiting for you for a while now.’

They walked in silence through the cool stone halls. Slowly Daen’s heightened senses began to fade to a normal level; she could no longer sense the presence of every living thing in the near vicinity or hear the thoughts of the women next to her like faint music in a room next door. And by the time they had made their way to the High Priestesses’ chambers she was safely back in her own body, and suddenly exhausted.

‘Ah Dae, thank you Nonna.’ The high priestess greeted her, not bothering to look up from her writing. The priestess Nonna bowed her gray head and then left. Daen stood quietly and waited for the High Priestess to finish her correspondence. The high priestess finally glanced up at the young woman. ‘So, what colour was the ribbon?’

Daen rolled her eyes, ‘Yellow.’

The high priestess wiped her quill nib carefully and then opened a small chest besides her taking out a piece of yellow ribbon. ‘Correct. But you are still taking to long; it shouldn’t take all morning to find that out.’

‘It didn’t.’ Daen answered.

The high priestess shook her short hair, trimmed in a harsh straight cut along her jaw as was traditional for a priestess of Luer. ‘Did you spirit walk with Samigina again?’ Daen decided that silence would be better than a lie. The priestess sighed, ‘Dae you must be more careful. Talent such as you possess is too precious for you to burn it out....’

‘It just took me a while to concentrate that’s all.’ Daen answered trying to stave off another lecture.

‘Very well, but you should be trying harder in that case.’ The High priestess gave Daen a searching look, but then went back to her work. ‘You are excused.’ Daen bobbed her hear, and moved to escape, but just before she reached the door the priestess called her name and asked. ‘What colour is the ribbon in my hand?’

In her rush to leave Daen answered without thinking. ‘White.’

The Priestess held up an empty hand, she was watching Daen’s expression carefully. ‘I was going to choose a white piece.’

Daen lent her head against the door frame with an annoyed groan; she looked back at the priestess there was no way to avoid this now, and she closed the door. ‘Dam it!’ She had run straight in to that noose.

‘How long have you been able to see what has not yet come to pass Daen of Nheim?’

‘Only recently, I wasn’t sure at first, and I can’t see very far ahead.’ Daen knew she was going to regret telling the old woman her true name. Horrible old bat didn’t scruple to use it against her, and with her endlessly understanding gaze Daen felt like she was transparent. At least she had managed to ring a promise out of the old woman not to tell anyone else, especially not Darcia.

‘I thought so.’ The priestess said pointedly. ‘It is always been as easy for you to talk to the spirits as it is breathing is it not Dae, and slipping your skin to?’

Daen was cursing her own stupidity; it was because she was tired. She had hoped to hide her rapid improvement for another few weeks at least. ‘Sometimes, yes.’ She admitted.

‘I have had my suspicions for a while.’

‘I thought as much.’

‘Why are you tying to hide it child?’ The priestess’s watery blue eyes looked slightly hurt. ‘Why do you always seek to hide your gift?’

Now Daen felt guilty, the high priestess had been nothing but kind and encouraging; she supposed the least she deserved was an explanation. ‘It’s just a habit, in Nheim it’s a curse not a gift. Also everyone here has taken years to get to where I am now. It feels unfair that they should strive for years and yet I can do it without any trouble at all it seems unnatural.’

‘We all have our own particular natural talents.’

‘Some people are talented at killing, stealing or lying but it doesn’t mean that it’s a good thing to do.’ Daen argued back.

‘True.’ The priestess replied, ‘But anything even stealing and lying can be used for good.’

‘Even killing?’

‘Daen.’ The priestess sighed; she knew that Daen was trying to argue her way out of a corner and Daen knew she knew. That tactic was not going to work on the Priestess; she was to kind, and too forgiving.

‘That’s just it everyone keeps looking at me like I’m some kind of savant or something, and in not, I’m nothing special. It would be worse if they thought they were right, at the moment at least they think I could still be normal.’
The priestess gave her a pitying look, and held out a hand. Daen didn’t want to accept her pity, she didn’t want anyone to see her old scars but she found herself walking over to the priestess and letting the older woman pull her down to eye level. The older woman petted her hand gently, a gesture of condolence. ‘We are all special, you no less or more than anyone else Daen.’

‘Special.’ Daen laughed bitterly.

‘Daen, just because someone did something evil to you it dose not mean they were right, it dose not mean you are tainted, they were the ones in the wrong not you.’

The young woman gave her a strange look, as if to say ‘what would you know?’ Then Daen looked uncomfortably away pulling her hand free of the old woman’s grasp. ‘Can I go now?’ The Priestess nodded, and the young woman left. The high priestess went back to writing her letter, but her scribbling soon petered out as her thoughts returned to the young woman Lord Darcia had handed to her. Teaching the girl, it was not like she learned from anew, it was like watching child stand up for the first time, it was instinctive, like she was remembering something forgotten. But the girl was reckless to; it was a dangerous mixture natural curiosity, cleverness, childish fearlessness, and stubbornness. This was tempered only by a caution learnt from being burned at some point in her past but sometimes the priestess felt that Daen wanted to fly close to the sun just to burn her wings.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Daen suddenly found herself with the afternoon off. She decided to head to the stables, she hadn’t spent nearly enough time with Thuharu, and the mare desperately needed work. With the day clear and cold, it would be a nice afternoon for a ride, and she knew exactly where she wanted to go. She loved the forest; now that the snows had come Daen found that it was the best place to ride out the pine floor still free from the deep drifts that coated almost everywhere else it was possible to go for a really good galop. Thuharu didn’t give the girl much option on this subject it truth be told, as soon as the little mares hoofs touched the mossy unfrozen turf of the woodland she was off and cantering.

And so Daen and her fiery mare enjoyed bloody good galop, it did much to blow away the cobwebs. Now at a sedate walk the pair wandered along a narrow trail through thick brown bracken back to the road. Daen tried to look at the trees the same way that Samigina had showed her, but found that despite her efforts a tree remained just a tree. She still wondered what Samigina was, not a demon something else, something wild. When she spirit walked she sometimes caught glances of her from the corner of her eye, long golden flowing hair so pale it was almost white, graceful pointed ears, neat cloven feet. Something cold fell on to her nose braking her chain of thought Daen looked up to watch the snow begin to fall, little white flakes drifting gently down. The sky above her had turned steal gray, ahead of her Bala looked as if it was giving off a pearlescent light. Behind her the woodland was lovely, dark, and deep. She could have stood for hours just watching the open woodland at the front of the forest fill with snow. But her little horse shook her head, the little bells on her bridle jingling. ‘Ok, we will go home then.

‘Home.’ She thought, it had been a long time since she had thought of a place as home. It had been a long time since she was forced to stay in one place for this length of time, since leaving Nheim she moved constantly for fear of been found. Within the tall white walls of Bala she felt safe for the first time in years. Thuharu’s little red rears suddenly perked up, and she let out a bugling whinny. Around the bend, his hoof beats muffled by the snow was tall dark Per, his master upon him heading for the city.

‘Dae.’ He greeted her. ‘Enjoying your ride.’

‘It’s very peaceful here.’

‘Were it always so.’ He answered with soft gravity his mind seemed to be on something else. They rode on in a preocupied silence for a few moments before he asked. ‘Aren’t you ment to be at the temple?’

‘The High pritsess gave me the afternoon off.’ Daen answered truthfully then mimicked the priestess Nonna’s own words trying to make him laugh. ‘Sister Nonna said “Take ze afternoon off, I don’t zink you deserv it but z High Priztezz haz said vou must rezt. I expect you to conzontrate better tomorrow!’

Darcia dropped his sternness and chuckled. ‘Imp, don’t let her catch you mimicking her like that or you will be in all sorts of hot water.’

‘After you, priestess’s don’t scare me.’ Daen smiled.

He chuckled again, but before he could answer Daen’s mare had stretched out her velveteen nose to his stallion Pur, and then squealed loudly then tried to swivel and kick the big dark brown horse. ‘Your mare is a nuisance!’ Darcia commented. ‘Veione told me she escaped from the stalls again yesterday.’

Daen patting her neck ruefully said. ‘She is too clever for her own good.’

‘Well she is not the only one.’ Darcia replied his eyes smiling. ‘ I also noticed the other day that she dose indeed have a small horn. ’

Daen laughed, ‘Veione keeps saying she is a unicorn, she isn’t of course.’

‘Perhaps she might be a descendent of one.’

‘Hardly, in Nheim we call them Garlens, Goat ponies, some of then have two curling horns you see.’

Darcia shook his head. ‘Typical Nhemin, calling a spade a spade. Do you know any of the old tales about the children of the moon?’

‘No.’

‘It’s a children’s story. The nomads of the Hys-b- dry call horses with horns the Khalid-Kan, they also use the same name to describe people with a golden tint to their hair like yours, and those who can use magic.’ He looked over at Daen who now curled a strand of her unusual hair about her finger. ‘The legend is that the Luaer the moon goddess made her own children to serve and delight her, just as the Daer made animals and people. Her people was tall and graceful, horned, and could change shape at will, they were powerful magic users able to see and use spirits because they were not quite of this world, they built huge city’s, and were immortal. Humans and animal’s alike served them. But their females were barren, and in time they knew that none would be left. And so some of them bread with other species, depending on what form they were in, unicorns or like a human so that there blood lines would go on. And that is some would say how magic was given to man.’

‘Because people had sex with unicorns?’ Daen asked incredulously.

‘Demons.’ He answerd. His voice held hidden depth to it, like a key to a forbidden world. She knew he was watching her with his steal blue eyes, and she shivered at how one word could be so powerful and full of wicked promise. Darcia was not wearing his typical black, He was warring a deep prussian blue like the sky at dusk. The different colour made him look different somehow. She noticed the strength of the legs that griped his horse in pristine white briches and the cut of his caot flattered his trim waist and broad shoulders.

‘Your not wearing black.’ She said trying to brake the tension between them.

‘what, oh.’

‘It suits you.’

‘Your a very strange girl.’


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Daen sat amongst the lavender tubs upon the roof top garden. It felt like home up so high. Wrapped up in her cloak she had taken a blanket to sit on and protect her from the cold stone floor. Daen came up hear as often as she could manage, sneaking up the stairs to be alone and out in the open air unaccompanied usualy at night the only time she had alone. It was also the time when Samigina would teach her in quiet without the priestesses's interference. Samigina had told her to listen to the spirits voices, each one was a note in a grater Symphony.

Protected by the stone tubs and tower walls it was relatively still where she sat. Yet above her the wind chased clouds across the fat moon like sheepdog herded sheep through the Prussian sky. It had been the full moon that had drawn Daen out to her roof to retreat tonight. Apparently she was not the only one who was enjoying the bright lunar light. Spirits danced on the wind, swirling thick and in multitudes. Their song was wild and fast, even the usually placid dryads of the trees bowed and bent with more vigour to the rough music joining in their own creaking percussion.

Daen had been lost in the music; she was so far away upon it that she did not immediately notice the sound of someone else entering the stone walled garden. But when she sat up to get more comfy she spotted a figure standing alone in the middle of the court yard. Carefully she peeked through the scrub, confident that the lavender hid her from view. Standing gazing out over the rippling lake was a tall man. His inky dark hair whipping around his face like a silk banner a stark contrast to his snowy white shirt and breeches that practically glowed in the moonlight as if the garments held their own light.

Daen was struck by the beautiful sight, the symphony of shadow and light. Lord Darcia. And as his face upturned to watch the sky, like a wolf lifting its head to howl at the moon, the wind lifted his hair back, just for a moment but long enough to reveal his unmasked profile. His skin was pale, but not as pale as his clothing, he had a strong jaw like a marble statue, his mouth was slightly sardonic, his brows strong and dark, austere but unmistakably hansom in a stern way. Daen let out a breath she didn’t know she had been holding.

Lord Darcia spun about seeking out the noise. His expression went from surprised to severe in a second. Daen firstly unnerved by actually seeing his face for the first time blanched at his expression, and before he could find her she fled the rooftop like a startled mouse.

Daen’s heart was still pounding when she reached her room. The image of Lord Darcia’s cool aristocratic profile was burnt on to her eye balls. By the god’s she hoped that he didn’t see her. It took her a while to work out the complicated tangle of emotions all bouncing around inside her. Firstly shock, she could hardly believe that she had actually seen his face! It was like been a child and accidently getting a glimpse of your birthday present, the guilt of knowing you shouldn’t have looked, mixed with the elation of knowing you have got exactly what you wanted, and the fear you may you may yet be found out.

She lay in bed like a child playing hide and seek, waiting to be found. Waiting to be dragged from her bed and hauled in front of him and face….who knows what. Though she thought he would most likely be angry with her, very angry. But as long minuets trickled by he did not come and when it was nearly dawn Daen came to the conclusion he was not coming and she allowed herself to sleep. Her dreams now had a face to the dark shadow that haunted them. She woke the next morning exhausted, and getting a thorough scolding from the priestesses for not paying attention.