The Conjured and the exiles

An Exile’s tale

Daen sat cross legged on her brother’s bed, the late afternoon sunlight illuminating her face in rosy light. Three pairs of eyes watched her face; three pairs of ears listened and absorbed her tale. One listened, the missing link to his own past been revealed before him. One listened trying to imagine all that he heard, his busy mind storing the story away. And the last listened with interest for a good yearn, because there was nothing else to do. Her voice was resonate, lulling it drew them in to her world.

‘In time I did not remember how I came to live as an orphan in Nheim. As I grew I lost all memory of mother and father, not realizing that I had even lost it. I had dreams sometimes, standing in front of a burning cottage, a woman’s screams, looking through a sooty window to a figure choking in flames, tied to the beams, calling out for mother. But perhaps they were nothing but dreams, nightmares of a lonely child. Perhaps some memories are best left unremembered.’

‘It seemed to me that one minuet I lived in a small cottage in a village outside a castle with a small but loving family, and next I was living in Nheim with neither father or mother, dazzled by the Helge court, a grate family that welcomed me with warm arms. I did not feel sorry for myself, I don’t remember being lonely, or even crying over the loss of my parents for I did not just have one mother and father, but I had three fathers, two mothers, a grandmother, a grandfather and numerous siblings all of which loved me.’

‘I was at the pinnacle of the Helge, a princess of the blood, and so was precious, females were rarely born of the Oror family. In fact in general male children were more common in Nheim than women and in a society where it rare to marry outside of ones clan let alone an outsider I was worth my weight in gold. I did not know it at the time, but the only thing that had saved me as a child from suffering the same fate as mother was not my ungraded youth, but that I was female, and so was to rare a creature to waste.’

‘My lack of piety was a problem at first, for five years Helu had been just one god among the pantheon of gods that I had seen worshiped. But for the Helge Helu was the one and only god, he was always on people’s lips. At dawn bells were rung to welcome him, and dusk to bid him farewell. Daen remained at first irreverent, preferring Daer and Lloer, mother earth and her daughter the moon, the oldest of all the gods over the sun god. To avoid trouble I grew to know that when the bell’s sounded she best look as if I was praying. But as I grew the worship of Helu became just another thread that ran through the rich fabric of my life at the Helge court, another ritual among many.’

As Daen spoke things that she had not remembered for a long time began to float to the surface of her mind. She paused for a moment, leaning back to look up at the ceiling, it was wood beams, but she had due to her reminiscing expected to see stone. He brow furrowed at that. ‘I belonged there, as if I had always belonged there, that’s what I thought. That’s what everyone told me. I thought I knew more than I remembered after a while what I was told became memories. They told me that sorcerers had killed mother and father, and they had come to late to save them. I believed it then.’


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The grate horn shrilled out and then the drum beats started. They were steady as a grate heart beet. Like the heartbeat of Helu himself. The rhythm of the drum chorus seemed to push the small girl along, its pulse threatening to interrupt her own small mouse quick heart beat. It was cold, not quite dawn. Torches lit the way on the grate stairs that lead up to the temple, they burned uncomfortably bright on her chilled skin.

No voice spoke. But every eye watched. The small girl was clad in formal black, all save a colorful kurtle it was secured by, and the heavy gold embroidery that decorated the bottom of her ceremonial robe, marking her out as a daughter of the Helge court.

She walked slowly and solemnly, her green eyes upon the stone archway that was the centerpiece of the temple. She looked extremely small alone amongst the grate stone henge, the circle open to the sky was not of human dimensions, home to a god.

Alone the girl knelt down, she was barley seven summers old, her forehead pressing against the stone, prostrate awaiting the coming of the winter sun. She tried not to shiver; her skin freshly scrubbed with a rough brush was pink and raw to the deep cold.

Bells began to toile out over the silent valley, and with that first note the chorus of prayer rose along with it. The girl to mumbled a mantra through her chattering teeth, she prayed fervently, praying to what ever gods were listening that they not cast her out. After a while the shrill bell faded away and the dark haired girl sat up, her eyes and hair reflecting the pale golden light of the sun’s first rays on the midwinter morn.

The priests then came to the girl. ‘What is this child’s name?’

‘Daen. The dawn star’ came the answer. ‘Daughter of Sheld of the Oror clan.’

‘And who presents her to Helu and clame her for there clan to bring her up in the ways of our people to know the way of Helu our one true god?’

It was silent and for a moment she feared that no one would clame her that she would remain all alone in this sea of people, an outsider.

‘I Artakha of the Oror clan do clame her as one of our own.’ He spoke as if someone might challenge him.

‘And I Zadoc of the Oror clan.’

‘And I Rahim of the Oror Clan.’

Another voice came that was a surprise to those assembled, an old voice. ‘And I Thern, Serkan of the Oror clan do present this girl child to Helu.’

The priest nodded. He placed his whether worn hands on the girls smooth cheeks who breathed a sigh of relief. ‘Helu, the grate sun, watch over this child, let your righteous fire burn in her heart eternally, let her light never gutter out, watch over all she does and think and help her grow up to honor and obey her family and your majesty, let her serve you faithfully in all that she my do. To this we all pray. And we welcome her as one of our own.’

He then gave the girl three small mistletoe berries to eat. Holy fruit because of the berries it bore for the sun god even in mid winter when nothing else would grow. A cup of summer wine was pored and each member of the Oror family sipped from it before it was given to the girl child. Then each person present then introduced themselves to the young girl, despite knowing her already, for now she was true clan, consecrated under Helu the only good, and true god. The girl looked up at them with her startlingly bright eyes that made her expression a trifle fey, but she said nothing.

With music the procession moved back down to the living chambers below. Daen’s family were all dressed in black just like she was. Back in the warmth of the living quarters she felt drowsy, and the light was purple and shadowy. But no mater how weary the little girl was she was escorted from room to room despite having lived there for days as if been shown around for the first time. There were more prayers, and more sermons, some dancing and signing and it was not until midday that anyone was allowed to eat. By then the girl felt terribly sick.

As soon as she was allowed she left to lie down, the heavy drapes pulled across the vast arch blocking out the pale sun. She laid very still, her head sore, her stomach churning. There came the scuff scuff of feet on the stone and then a husky whisper. ‘Helo there, Daen are you here small one?’

She did not reply. And a head peeked through the drapes that served as doors. A kind youngish face marred only by his broken nose, her uncle Rahim. ‘Ah, Daen there you are! Resting, I’m not surprised it has been a long day had it not?’

He moved towards her almost noiselessly with the grace of a swordsman, he smoothed back her hair from a feverish brow. In a voce like a bell she asked.‘Am I part of the clan now?’

‘Yes.’ He smiled indulgently.

‘I feel sick.’

‘It’s probably the mistletoe.’

‘Why do they give it to you if it makes you sick?’

‘Tradition I suppose.’ He shrugged as the little girl looked boldly up at him, her face drawn and pale.

‘That’s small comfort.’

‘A small bit won’t kill you.’ He trued to cheer her up. ‘I can remember after my naming ceremony I felt very ill.’

Daen turned her strange green eyes upon him, her head coked slightly to the side she looked like a sparrow. She bares the family stamp in her features Rahim thought looking at her especially her strong dark brows now drawn in a flat line as she thought they were so like his own and Sheld’s. However there was a certain sharpness to her that was not of the Oror clan, and canniness to her expression, the purity of color to in her green eyes, that were the brightest he had ever seen, striking in the young face. Rahim realized that the little girl wanted to be left alone, he was after all still a relative stranger and he retreated. At least now she had stopped crying out for her mother, in time she would settle in.

On her own the girl closed her eyes and thought of the smell of carnations, her own small cot more like a box with straw and a sheepskin, she thought of a cottage with a thatch roof, she thought of her big bold father, and her mothers voice raised in a lullaby, she tried to sing it herself, but her voice was still to small. So she lay in silence, her stomach hurting, hoping that sleep would take her.


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‘Compared to here and many places in the empire Nhiem probably to an outsider seems very rustic and primitive. We lived in caves, but they were beautiful things, whole cities carved out the cliff faces. Above all there is the sensation of the contours and concavities of my home, arches, bowl seats, passing through the hollow caverns and up winding carved out staircases the stone smoother in places than others from generations of feet and hands. Everything was carved in to the steep granite cliff sides that ran either side of the Ihlara valley, temples, kitchens, bedrooms, stables, halls, tunnels, balconies, and courtyards. Horses and goats would graze the grassy planes above them, and below them rushed the Ihlara River that wound ten miles on to meet the glistening turquoise and azure sea.’

‘Everything is natural, austere perhaps. The only decorations are white lime wash and perhaps mats woven from grasses or colorful threads. Nature was worshiped with the sun. Strength respected, a woman’s and a man’s word bound them. A warrior’s sword was his soul, sworn to serve Helu and his clan. There were no servants, even in the Helge we wove and sewed our own clothes, though I will be the first to admit I was never very good at it.’
‘I was a fey child. To wild for my own good, I disliked sitting and sewing quietly or minding my lessons. I would rather be outside on my horse, or climbing trees. The poor girl whose duty it was to watch over me was given a very hard task.’


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The small girl scurried down the shallow stairs; she kept a whether eye out for her older cousins who for the past two days had gone from pinching her cruelly when ever she was not watching them, to ignoring her when she no longer reacted to their taunts, before they ostracized her completely.

She slipped through the stables. Pausing only briefly to pet her favorites velveteen nose before carrying on out in to the daylight. There she went down to the river, scrambling over the boulders, and fishing in the stream, playing the sorts of games that children play when they are on their own. Hearing the sounds of laughter and shouts Daen slunk off, like a fox leaving its kill when the wolf pack was near. Finding a convenient tree, she went and hid, and owl like watched her cousins pass below her.

‘They are gone.’ Dean looked down. Below her was her cousin Koto. He looked up at her with serious hazel eyes. She slid down and joined him on the ground. A sudden grin broke across his face. ‘Come on!’ He said and grabbed her hand, leading the girl back up towards the city.

They climbed up the cliffs, which was easy enough to do fitting fingers and toes in to crevices. Half way up, they rested on a window ledge. ‘If they are mean to you, you can come up here.’ Koto said indicating to a little alcove above them. ‘They do not know it is here. Also if you climb up higher not many would dare come up after you. Follow me I will show you the safe way up.’ They climbed right up to the top of the very highest stack of rock, Koto helping Daen out every so often. When they reached the grassy pinnacle they then sat down; their bare feet dangling over the edge, gazing out across Nheim and even beyond it where green lands shimmered vaguely on the horizon.

‘I would like to see what lies beyond the grate landing.’ Said Daen.

‘What for?’ Said Koto, chewing a stem of grass between his white teeth.

‘Oh I don’t know. I just would like to see something different.’ Daen shrugged. ‘Don’t you ever wonder about other places?’

‘I want to see the imperial city some day.’ He admitted. ‘It’s said that if you can imagine it you can buy it there. And go to the marshes of Sidana to see the Cormuls there, they are supposed to be bigger than bulls, grate placid monsters of things that they use to ride on.’ His voice took on the tone of a boast. ‘I expect that when I am a swords man like my father I will go to many places in the empire and even beyond.’

Daen pepped at the sandy haired boy from beneath her main of mahogany locks her bright green eyes catching his. ‘Your lucky. Women can’t join the order. Uncle Rahim tells me stories, and I wish I could see those things. It’s always the same here for me, lessons in things that I will do as a woman. Nothing ever happens here.’

‘That’s not true there’s plenty of things going on.’

‘If you’re a boy.’ She sighed. ‘I weave, I dance, I sing, I play the harp, I know how to dress my hair. That’s all I’m good for here.’ He was quiet for a moment. Too young to really understand the differences between men and women he did not comprehend her problem. ‘You know I used to live on the other side of the Landing when I was very young.’

‘I bet it’s the same there as here. Boys do boy stuff, and girl’s girl stuff. That’s how it’s always been.’ He shrugged. They were silent for a moment before he asked her. ‘You know you lived on the outside?’ She nodded. ‘Well did you ever see a witch a real witch?’

Daen was half tempted to lie, and tell a story, but she shook her head. He looked disappointed. Daen shook out her wild mane and tilted her chin haughtily. ‘Even if I did I would have not looked at them, vile sorcerers.’

He laughed. ‘You wouldn’t have known then.’

She sniffed indignantly. ‘Yes I would. Everyone knows what a witch looks like, their magic makes them like hags, the unnaturalness of there magic twisting them and making their bodies loathsome!’

Koto’s voice dropped conspiratorially, ‘That’s not true. The adults just tell us stories like to scare us. Really a witch could be anyone, you wouldn’t know, they could look just like anyone.’

‘Who told you that?’

‘My father.’

‘So how do you tell if someone’s a witch or not?’

‘The order have tests.’ Koto replied, exited now that the normally aloof girl was looking at him with such rapt interest, obviously impressed by his knowledge. ‘They have a crystal that the priests use, it’s made of black stone and it answers questions. Uncle Artakha said that the only sure way is to put fire to them. If they burn then they are true, if they are a witch they won’t as their demon familiars will protect them.’

They left the cliff top carefully climbing down. Talking about what they would do if they ever came face to face with a real heretic. They were going to swing through a window when they herd voices. Sitting on top of the craved ledge they listened closely. It was Daen’s tutor Yuko a young woman from the lower levels of the city. She was being told of by Daen’s grandfather for letting her charge out of her sight once again. In spirit of mischief the children made kitten noises, having a hard time smothering their giggles.

‘Is some one there?’

They fell silent. Koto was pink faced, his face in a rictus smile. Daen for the smile on her face looked savage. ‘That silly hen of a woman, she follows me about everywhere!

‘She has to it’s her job.’ Koto pointed out.

‘She should let me be! I don’t need to be watched every moment of the day.’ Daen complained.

‘So there is someone out there.’ It was aunt Ellindi, uncle Artakha’s wife, and Koto’s mother. ‘What are you doing out there you wicked children? Come in here at once!’ Reluctantly the children complied. The gaunt woman looked from one young face to the other.

Koto’s mother looked at him sternly, but boys were boys. ‘Go find your father Koto.’ She said dismissing him.

Ellindi stared down at the young girl now left her lips pressed in a thin line. ‘Daen, it is not fitting that you be seen running about and climbing. You will soon be a woman of the Helge not just some village miss.’

Daen’s eyes flashed up at the woman, a small smile playing on her lips. ‘Yes soon I shall be a woman.’ She said quietly but was pleased with the idea.

The rage that passed across Ellindi’s face. She raised her hand as if to strike, but then clutched her skirt with an impatient gesture. ‘Go now, and wash your face its filthy hardly fit to be seen.’ Daen knew that her aunt had been itching to slap her for her impudence. However Daen was Helge, blood of the sun god himself, and so her aunt could not touch her.

Koto’s mother escorted Daen out, she tutted under her breath.’ Dear me Daen, that’s the second time this week you have snuck away from Yuko.’ she smiled, ‘Come on I have some spiced cake you can have.’


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‘And so I grew, I learned much of rituals and religion. I learned reading, writing and arithmetic. I learned Imperial as well as my own native tongue. I learned to dance, to sing, to play whistle and harp. I hunted on foot and horse, with hawk and bow. I climbed the steep rocky cliffs and gorges of Nheim, swum in its rushing rivers. I rode across its flat planes. I tended the organized herb gardens. I learned to cook, weave and sew and was a Nhamian in all things both thought and deed as any member of the clan could wish could wish, and in time forgot that I had ever lived differently.’

‘But how I grew up really is irrelevant. Despite my unusual start in life I grew up to be fairly conventional. Any fault I may have had was forgiven due to my youth. Koto’s mother often said of me ‘All mischief but no malice.’ I Loved and was loved by most of my family, I had friends and enemies. I had all the petty little likes, loathes, loves and rivalries that living in a close comity brings. I was a happy child.

And my destiny probably would have gone on its allotted path. I would have lived as a Nhemian, loved as one, part of our grate clan, I would have been the mother of Nhamians, to a clan husband, Koto. And I would have had a life full of the trials and tribulation that such a life could bring. And I probably would have been happy, for I knew little else. However fate or circumstance had its way and my path was forever shifted. That first landslide in my existence as I knew it came about when I talked to my dying grandfather as I stood at the cusp of womanhood.’


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Daen disliked her aunt Ellindi , as much as she her as much as she loved the rest of her family. For while everyone else was kind and affectionate it was in her aunt’s nature to wound the young girl at every turn. Daen could never be happy in her presence. No mater how carefully Daen obeyed, however ardently she tried to please her aunt Daen’s efforts were always repulsed and repaid with coldness, this was destroying for Daen who sought to be liked. Always Ellindi saw Daen as an artful, wicked child that nothing could remedy. And worse she would whisper her poisoned words to Daen’s uncle Artakha, a righteous man, upright and respect worthy, when he punished Daen he always explained that he was saving her soul, and he believed it though what he was saving Daen from she did not know.

Turning fourteen Daen found herself in trouble more and more often. She would admit it was her own fault. Indulged, and made a pet if by everyone she was willful having lost the weariness she had had as a child. Certain of her self and her position she was proud and quick tempered. Once more Daen stood in front if the pair of them her eyes down firmly on her feet wishing herself anywhere but there, Artakha liked to sermonize. She had yet again got me in trouble with her uncle Artakha for being insolent, and showing his wife a severe lack of respect, though Ellindi had provoked her.

Daen had been practicing her archery and the dress had ripped, new it might be but it was too small for Daen whose womanly curves were swelling with an almost alarming rapidity. Her aunt had found the discarded robe and immediately accused Daen of purposefully ruining it. ‘Ungrateful heartless child I spend days making this dress for you and you destroy it to spite me!’ Daen had defended herself justly or so she thought.

Artakha kept talking and Daen managed to fade his voice to back ground noise. Eventually Artakha left when he thought her sufficiently browbeaten and repentant, which she was not, and she was left alone with her aunt Ellindi to apologize. Some moments passed in quiet as her aunt began to weave. Daen watched her. She was a slim woman, hungry looking, clever, and cunning, the household was firmly under her control, and she was jealous of her position, a woman who had made an advantageous match.

Daen had no such worry, she was a noble born and bread. Her aunt knew this and it rankled with her. For should Daen bare a son with Koto they would inherit over her own children.

She saw that Daen was watching her and laid her work to the side. ‘Get out of my sight.’

Daen had never born been bullied well, no mater that she knew it would be better to submit still she must fight back. And fight back Daen did with her ready rapier tongue. ‘You know that I did not ruin that dress on purpose. Any fool can se it is to small for me. I think you just hate me.’

‘And why is that.’ Her aunt said, addressing Daen, a fourteen year old girl as one might an equal.

‘You are not Helge. Yes you married in to the Helge but you are not, just like Koto’s mother.’

‘I am nothing like her.’

‘Yes, for she knows her place.’

‘And what of your place motherless one.’ She hissed. ‘You are nothing but an orphan of a disgraced one. One not even fit to bear the stigma of an Isra. You should be thankful no one had thought to burn you witch child!’

‘Ha! I shall bare a son, and all you’re scheming will have been for naught!’

‘It shall never happen!’

‘I am nearly of baring age. It shall be my revenge upon you, for your cruelty. For you pretend to be pious, to be a god woman, but really you are heard hearted and cruel.’ Daen finished her challenge, feeling more woman than ever before. Her aunt was left was trembling with rage. Later when Daen knew her aunt would be watching she caught Koto by the hair and kissed him soundly. She had to make the first move, for though she knew herself to be a woman, Koto like all boys had yet to realize that he was a man. She let him fumble and paw her more than was necessarily seemly. Triumphantly Daen watched as her aunt stalked out of the room leaving Daen the victor on the field, or so she had thought.

Althalvard or High rock as it is called in imperial tongue is carved out of the very cliff sides like much of Nheim. It is a rabbit warren of chambers. There are communal arias which then lead off to private chambers both for eating and living. The Oror’s had the grandest, the most magnificent and loftiest of them.

As she grew fierce little thing that she was, she soon has her own court of friends. Imaginative in her choice of games they followed her with very little question. The whole city was their play ground, that is save for the sword chamber and her grandfathers chamber, they alone were verboten to the younglings. When the priests were not looking they would even play in the temple, though few outer children would have dared. But what had the Oror’s to fear, children of the Helge, and decedents of the Sun god himself.

She was nine years old when her grandfather lay convalescing in his rooms, after suffering a seizure, he had gone mad it was rumored. A terrible old man, a man of whom they were all afraid. The Serkan of their clan, and head of the order. Uncle Rahim and his elder brother Zadoc, Koto’s father tried to keep Daen away from him as much as possible. But one day when he was alone he saw her peeping through the door.

He ordered her to come inside, and she was too afraid to disobey him, and curious besides. He lay on his bed, his frail body propped up by pillows. His hands thin, and like bird claws. Daen had never really gotten a chance to see him before; always she had been ushered out of sight when he was present. Daen took her time to look at him, as he starred in to nothingness, mumbling to himself or so she had thought at the time, before he turned his attention to her. Daen met him stair for stair. Forgetting in that moment how she had herd malicious whispers that it was by that man’s whim alone that she had been allowed to live. ‘How old are you child?’

‘Fourteen summers.’

‘So much?’ He said doubtfully. ‘But you are still small.’

‘I shall grow.’ She shrugged.

He let out a sound that could have been a laugh, or an exclamation of annoyance. ‘You are very direct, not a womanly trait. Your husband to be wont like it.’

‘Koto dose not mind.’ Daen shrugged.

Her grandfather chuckled. ‘Well granddaughter are you a good child?’

As you might imagine that is an impossible question to answer. She was silent, knowing full well that all the adults thought that she was quite the little hell cat. And at that moment my aunt Ellindi came in the room having heard her voice. ‘Perhaps the less said about her behavior the better.’ she said snidely. ‘Daen come away, do not disturb your grandfather.’

‘Be silent woman, if I wanted her gone do you not think I could get rid of her myself.’ He turned all his attention on his granddaughter. ‘Do you know what happens to the wicked when they die?’ Daen’s grandfather asked curiously.

That was an easy question. ‘Helu will punish them.’

‘And do you want to be punished?’

The child looked at him, knowing it to be a test of some kind. She answered the only way she could. ‘No sir.’

‘Then what must you do to avoid that fate.’

‘Be good?’

‘Do you pray to Helu at dawn and dusk?’

‘Yes.’ Daen answered meekly, for she did as long as she was within earshot of the bells.

‘Do you read the holy texts?’

‘Yes, uncle Rahim taught me how to read them.’

‘Are you fond of reading the holy texts of Helu?’

‘Some of them. I prefer other things.’

‘Other things?’

‘Like the stories Rahim tells me. Like the boy who tried to fly with magic feathers.’

‘You prefer fairy tales to the holy scriptures?’ Daen’s aunt asked incredulously.

‘Well not exactly prefer… Some of the scripture is not vey interesting.’ Daen said twiddling her hair, trying to be diplomatic.

‘That is because you have a wicked heart. You should pray to Helu to change that and make you a good girl.’

‘I have other things to pray for.’ There was an exclamation, and her ears were boxed.

‘Get your hands off my granddaughter! She is not yours to discipline.’ Daen realized that her Grandfather disliked her Aunt as much as she did. It had never before occurred to her that the adults in her family might not get on, for in the temple family was made a grate deal of. Honor Helu, honor your family. If you do your duty by your family and in dong so you truly worship Helu. To her surprise Daen’s grandfather sent aunt Ellindi away with some very choice cuss words and she was left once again with the old man.

‘If they ever tell you that I murdered her, they tell lies, it was for the good of the people. Had the Good god Helu wanted her saved then the fire would not have caught light underneath her. She was wicked a witch.’ Back then Daen did not have the inelegance to realize at the time who he was speaking of, it would not be until she was sixteen that she realized the full impact of what he had said. Daen thought the old man had gone crazy with age, certainly she did not believe in witches.

She was awestruck and confused by what he was telling her. She was also a little bit terrified, and filled with no little hubris that this grate man would address such secrets to her. He went on talking, his eyes growing more round, and spittle coming out of his deflated lips. ‘You have witches eyes, but you are still my granddaughter, you can fight it and save yourself from the flames yet!’ Sheald was the worst of my disappointments but he was still true to his blood. You are like him I think, you ask many questions or so I am told. You have eyes which look beyond our borders, forget such things as a woman of the clan yoru place is here.’

It was then that she realized that her father may still be alive somewhere. When She pressed Rahim at first opportunity he would not answer her. But he eventually gave in and showed the young girl the letters her father had written him in the years that she thought him dead. It pained her that he had known that she had lived yet he had not come for her. In fact she was furious with him for weeks until Rahim (who held his eldest brother in high affection) took her to visit her father, who along with Leoff was living just outside of Nheim in a noble’s castle. It was Leoff’s existence that tempted her to go with Rahim when he told her what he had in mind, for she had always been jealous of her cousins she hated been an only child and the existence of a blood sibling was to much for her to resist. Her very own brother! And she had not been disappointed, for Leoff seemed as fascinated by Daen as she was him.

Rahim would say that he was taking her on pilgrimage and by a secret way they would go out of Nheim to visit Leoff and her father who lived only five miles from the border. The visits were brief, and few and far between but that made them only more precious. Rahim always sternly reminded Daen not to breathe a word of such visits, and certainly not of Leoff’s existence. ‘It’s bad enough that one of you be held hostage like this.’ He had said. Daen did not understand, surely theire father would not harm her father, they were to kind, to genle? Wen she asked why Rahim had been evasive and would only inform her that her father had been exiled by his father for marrying her mother.

When Daen asked why she could not stay with her father and Rahim had held her close, ‘They would hunt you were you ever to leave Daen. Only if you stay here will they ever let you live remember that and be carful to mind you do as your told. Never give them a reason to kill you.’ Rahim who was almost always laughing was stern. It frightened her. ‘You ask to many questions Daen. It makes them afraid, especially when you look at them like that. So keep your eyes down and try to control that passion of yours. It is not a good idea for you to draw attention to yourself my proud little bird.’

But she did not heed his warning well enough. In time Daen forgot them entirely. She was a princess, and by the god did she know it as she grew filling her role and making her still living grandfather proud of his quietly willful child. He often would smile and say ‘Oh but you were a boy.’ And then he would warn her to be upright, and to worship Helu with all her heart.


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Leoff smiled warmly at his sister, he remembered well her first visit and all those sporadic visits besides. The way she had fussed and cooed over him, making him feel like the most special creature on earth. Daen smiled back and continued her telling.

‘This was a large secret, the discovery that my father not only had not died, but that he was an exiled by the same family that loved me so dearly. I liked to keep that particular secret. Though the worship of Helu tells you to be truthful in all things, I set that bit of my life apart. Like hording sweeties. It was my own very personal pleasure. It was also the first time that I had ever doubted my family. If they had lied…. And I realized that they had lied (a shock for I thought that no adult lied) about my father, then did that mean that they had lied about the manner in which my mother had met her end?’


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Her aunt Ellindi was to have a far better revenge upon Daen than she had ever planed, of this Daen was sure. The woman knew exactly how to provoke Daen. And Daen like a fool rose to the cunning woman’s bait, making impudent remarks. She slapped the girl, and seeing red Daen had attacked her like a wild cat. Who would they believe the meek pious matriarch, or the young hot head, with a hereditary stain upon their character? As you might guess Daen was the loser having hoped that her position would protect her.

Furious, refusing to calm down at the indignity of it all Daen was bundled down in to the Sword room were her cries could not be herd in it’s thick walls, nor could she get out once the door was closed. ‘And you are to stay down there with nothing but water for two nights and a day to think about what you have done! When you at last are allowed to come in to the light I will expect you to be repentant!’

If you have ever been stuck in the silent dark for a long time you will understand how horrible it is. It can break someone, the oppressive silence and the deep dark alone. To a Nhemian especially the darkness is abhorrent. Every room is a chapel to light. Every morning they celebrated the suns coming, every evening mourned its loss. In Namhian dawn literally translates to ‘The coming.’ And dusk to ‘the loss.’ Daen may have not believed in Helu at first, but surrounded by such fervent believers she couldn’t help but absorb it. Her only companions were the cold steal swords and the pervading sent of what they were polished with, oil of cloves.

At first the darkness was terrifying for what might be concealed within it. What ancient monsters lived in such old places? The sword room was forbidden, and Daen had only caught a glimpse of row upon row of weapons going deeper and deeper in to the cave before the heavy door was swung shut behind her. She was too scared to move off the floor least she cut herself upon one of the razor sharp blades. Daen could cut of a limb, and no one would know until they came too get her. No calls for help would be heard from this make shift dungeon.

The young girl herd whispers and trembled, curling up in to a ball. Eventually she got the courage up to pick out a blade from the wall. It was heavy and unfamiliar in her hand. She envied the grace and ease that the inquisitors wheedled those same blades. Daen then cursed herself as foolish she then dismissed the whispers as noise in the wind, or even her own imagination and settled to sleep. If she slept then time would go by swiftly.

Daen awoke, or at least she thought she was awake. It was hard to tell if her eyes were open or closed in the pitch black. She had no idea how much time passed, her dreams seemed such long things, but perhaps she had only slept for a few moments. A new terror pressed upon Daen. What if they forgot about her? What if they left her down here to die a painful starving death. She tried the door, it did not budge. Going out of her mind a little she called out for someone to answer. No answer came. Daen paced back and forth for a while in the dark. Six steps then turn, then six steps then turn, over and over.

Finally she sat back down again holding her knees. In the darkness Daen began to wonder if she even existed. And that’s when the voices came again. This went on for what seemed like an eternity for the still very young girl.

When Daen came back to herself she decided to do something about her predicament if just to alleviate the boredom. Looking through one of the heavy boxes that lined the sides of the walls her hands came upon an oil lamp. Using one of the swords as a steal against the dry stone wall and some herbs she carried with her as tinder she managed to start a small fire. The light was welcome. She could then light one of the wall lamps pulling it from the stone it attached to, using it as a torch.

With all the time in the world she poked her way through the contence of the sword room. Many of the stone lidded chests were too heavy for their small woman to open. But some with carful leverage would budge enough for her hands to feel inside. For the most part there were swords. Different from the ones on the wall. More elaborate, each as different from each other as strangers in a crowd. When Daen touched them the whispers she had been hearing would grow, voices calling out to be herd. Daen talked to them for a while, seeing no harm in it, after all it was only her imagination like talking to a doll. She fell asleep or fainted, or had some kind of fit, for the rest of her unjust incarceration was spent as a series of fever dreams. By the time she was released she was delirious.

Daen did not look at anyone for hours, and it was tow full days before she would speak. When she did talk it was in drifting sentences, she was unable to concentrate, dazed and she began to speak of her experiences, and people looked from one to another with fear in there eyes. After a week or so there was no doubt about it, Daen could not only hear spirits (many Nhmian’s can) but summon them. She had the potential to be a witch. It was the beginning of the end, only at the time Daen did not know this. Rahim who had been away looked at her with sorrow full eyes, knowing straight away what had happed to her. Daen latter found out that he had that night wrote a letter to her father, begging him to come and take the girl away, for Rahim could not, his bind rune brand burning for Artakha, who was now the head of the order fooling there fathers death was determined that the girl be kept in Nheim. Firstly so that they could keep a whether eye upon her, secondly so that her dubious gifts might be used in a way that benifited the clan. A witch to hunt witches, for it is said that power knows power. Artakha ofver the next few years would make grate use of that.


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Daen smiled ruefully at her small audience, wonderd what to tell them and what to hold back, for some things she still could not bare to part with, her own personal pergitory. Taking a deep breath she gatherd up the droped threads of the dialouge and began again. ‘I soon realized that my talking about hearing voices was upsetting people. I suspected they thought I was crazy or perhaps possessed. When I came back to myself I stopped talking about them, and threw myself back in to my life. I avoided my aunt like the plague. And I pursued Koto like a kitten making its first kill. People seemed to forget all about it, and they no longer looked at me with strange speculative glances. But the voices didn’t go away. Sometimes I here them now, the swords souls trapped in the dark.’

‘That was my second betrayal. I think they felt bad about it, Rahim who was not there never forgave his brothers for letting that happen to me. I suddenly became the model student and spent hours in the grate library, reading scroll after scroll. Seeking out any information about what had happened to me. I gathered together strands of information, normally to do with the Order, but the bulk of the information, which once had been in the library had been destroyed by an accidental fire apparently some years ago, and so my search was frustrated.’

'My uncle found that i was skilled in making a small crystal pendednt move over a map. It was a way to seek out heretics or so he said. Helu himself pointing out the answer. I would be summoned to the temple, there i would be given the black crystal on the end of a golden chain, I would close my eyes and mediate as i had been shown how to do. 'Seek magic.' The crystal would swing around, before eventuly pointing to the right place, the chain straining slightly against my grip.'

Daen looked at the wall, avoiding her brothers face. He could sense that she was holding something back by the way she shifted uncomfortably. 'Sometimes they took me with them, so that i could point the way. I agreed to go, so that the inocent would be spared from the guilty.' She closed her eyes, tormented by a vision only she could see. 'The Order they are asassins of a kind. I know that the emporor hired them long ago to kill powerfull memebers of the nobility, those with strong dispostion to magic. I think before the empire they were demon hunters. In Nheim they still folow that ancient calling, an inqusition, hunters of those who are tainted, magic users.'

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It was high summer a year on and the Oror’s had retreated to there costal villa not far from the port town of Cerulia. It was a beautiful spot, and Daen enjoyed summers spent there, sailing in small red sailed vessels, eating shell fish, and lounging on the stony beaches.

Daen wondered through the crowded market of Cerulia, not because there were over many people, but because the market was always crowded, the throughfairs were like the rest of Nheim carved from the rocks and so vendors had to set stalls in to alcoves, and set up spaces in the courtyards. Between each open space were corridors, and stairs, typically narrow, and so always seemed busy with activity which would spill out eventually on to the beach.

She had a basket in her hand and money in her purse enough to buy enough for a picnic for herself and Koto, intending to meet him at midday at a small cove where there was a small sandy beach, and smooth rocks prefect for laying on and getting some privacy. She idly looked at the vendors goods; bead bracelets caught her eye, as did the goods from further a field, including fruits from the Estron isles, spices too. Daen was used to being watched. She had always been watched. And more and more men were tacking notice of her, falling in love at first sight with her easy smile, and her sparkling green eyes framed by thick dark lashes. Still something made Daen still and listen to what was being said behind her by older women.


‘I recognize her Gohona it’s Aelan .’

Daen looked at them out of the corner of her eyes. The one woman in a crimson red shawl shook her head. ‘It cannot be. She is just a girl. Aelan was a woman grown. No deerie Aelan has been dead eight or nine turns by now or so Herada told me.’

‘I know but..’

‘Look at her cloths, the fine weave. The bracletts on her arms and ankles. She is not of the old blood she is Helge.’

‘But she looks just like her.’ The outer woman sobed, oviously upset.

'I know deerie, bit it was a long time ago.' The red shawled woman comforted her.

Daen turned away, unsure what to do. Aelan that was her mothers name. The women had known her mother! She was burning with curiosity but when she turned the women were gone. Letting out a sigh of frustration she then went to meet Koto.

Koto lay beside her, his body golden and naked in the sunlight. Daen sighed once again, her skin beginning to turn pink, unused to the sunlight, as womanly pursuits kept her indoors for much of the day. He gently moved a strand of hair from her face. ‘What’s wrong, did it hurt again?’ He asked concerned.

‘No, not as much this time.’

‘Then what?’

Daen sighed once more. ‘Don’t worry about it Koto. I’m just thinking that’s all.’

‘About us?’ He lent over her.

Daen shook her head, and lifted his hand to her lips. ‘No, not us.' Satisfied by that Koto lay back down, he knew between than to press her. She fiddled with his pendednt, a unicorn been stabed by a man. The medalion he had been given as an aprentice in the order before he took his vows. He had accepted that though he knew her better than anyone most of what was on her mind was completely unfathomable to him, unpredictable like the sea. He told her this thought and earned a giggle.

‘Your so sweet.’ She smiled wincing a little. ‘I shall be as red as a lobster if I don’t get out of the sun soon; I’m going to head back home I think Lanare said he would go swimming you could join them.’

‘Alright.’ He smiled stretching and then helped his betrothed up from the blankets they had lain upon. He watched her face, again she wore that strange distant look, her thoughs miles away from his. 'Restive, very restive.' He thought to himself, she had not been herself for a few weeks. The last time she had acompnayed someof the clan men she had come back changed somehow. She clung to him like a limpet, and yet she grew more ditsant by the day. He set off in the direction of the sea, and she turned back to the villa, having to pass the market as she went. Her mind was distracted and she found herself wondering through the market, stalls were being packed away. Daen watched the courtyard she sat in slowly empty before moving off. She walked up stairs to the next level of throughway and as he rounded a corner spotted a flash of a red shawl. Her heart in her mouth she followed it, going under a low arch to a shady room, the cool was a relief from the heat of the day.

Moving a bead door aside and heading towards the voices Daen looked about, It was a small apocithary of some kind, the dry herbs were fragrant in the air. Sitting behind a low desk grinding up some flowers with a pestle and mortar was the old woman she had seen speaking before. The old woman looked up, her eyes widened for a moment. ‘What can I help you with?’ She asked wearily.

Daen was suddenly embarrassed, nervous to. ‘I was looking for…’ She coughed to clear a sudden lump. ‘I ….I herd you speaking in the market earlier today. You mentioned someone named Aelan.’

‘I might have been.’ The woman replied cagily.

‘My mother’s name was Aelan.’ Daen said quietly. The old woman did not look surprised. She went back to grinding her herbs. ‘Did you know my mother.’

‘I did. She married and left Nheim.’ Daen nodded, and the woman continued. ‘She was killed though.’

‘Do you know by who?’

‘You should ask your family about that.’ The woman said testily.

‘They wouldn’t tell me if I asked.’

The woman looked up. ‘No I suppose they wouldn’t. Hmm, you look a lot like your mother. What’s your name girl?’

‘Daen.’

‘Daen is it. That was your grandmother’s name I knew her too. Well Daen I expect that there is a lot that your family had not told you. Your Helge are you not?’

Daen nodded, and the old woman looked at her closely. ‘You shouldn’t be talking to me.’

‘No please. No one tells me anything about my mother. I just…I just whish I knew something about her.’ Daen said desperately.

‘I can’t tell you much about your mother. And certainly I can’t tell you anything a girl like you has any business in hearing, not with your family being who they are. Go now girl, be happy that you’re blind and innocent to it all.’

‘But I want to know!’

The old woman sighed deeply. ‘How long are you here for?’

‘The month.’ Daen said hopefully.

‘What do you know about your mothers death?’

‘precious little. My family said she was burned alive by witches.’

‘Hah!’ The old woman let out a bitter laugh, and than spat in to her pestle. ‘Hypocrites and liars the lot of them.’ She looked up sharply. ‘Do you believe them girl?’

‘I did. I don’t think I do now.’ Daen answered, and than told the old woman about her brother and her father living on the other side of the landing.

‘Well now. I will tell you this then. And you wont like hearing it probably, not with your upbringing, your mother was not killed by witches, because she was a witch. And I can see just by looking at you that you are a witch to.’

‘A witch?’

The woman taped just above her nose. ‘I have the sight. So would you with a bit of training. You hear them now don’t you the spirits calling.’

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I should have left it well alone. But I could not, a secret was there sitting waiting t be told it was like buried treasure, better and more precious than gold, forbidden information about my mother. The old woman, she never told me her name, for though she was willing to teach me she still did not want me to know who she was, least I tell my family and she be hunted.’

Daen paused for a while, when she spoke again her voice was soft. ‘She never said outright that my family had killed my mother. Burning her alive for being a witch. But she did say that the Order’s only purpose was to wipe out all of tainted blood. From that I deduced, since my mother was a witch they had hunted her like they had so many others. I had first hand witnissed what they were capable of you see.’

‘She told me of the secret history of Nheim that until that point I had never been party to. I leant of my mother’s family, the Aenokan’s and their fall. It was heady stuff, not only was I blood of Helu’s chosen prophets, but I also carried Aeno’s blood, the blood of a demon. That was what the term tainted meant, demon blood.’

‘Demon blood?’ Leoff said incredulously.

‘Yes, don’t you see that is where the ability to do magic came from? Humans as the priests of Helu say quite rightly originally had no magic skill of any kind. But when demons mated with humans their powers were passed on with their blood. But its like with breeding, it doesn’t always show up, and some lines have it more strongly than others, and it shows up more strongly in some children than others just like any outer trait, intelligence, hair color, strength.’

‘Ok I get it.’ Leoff said putting his hands up. ‘So what happed?’

‘Well I learned from her. Ways to conjure spirits. That to get them to do what you want you have to know there names. Divination by asking them questions and letting them move a pendent I wore. Getting my named spirit to find things that were lost. The old woman to show off I think made it rain. Of course I kept this a secret from my family. I knew that at least one of them had been involved in my mother’s murder, but whom. Not Rahim, perhaps not even Koto’s father, My cousins were all far to young, and my aunts could not have been involved as women. You see though I wished I could hate them, I could not. I had loved them for so long, and for the most part they had showed me only kindness. No I did not doubt that they loved me despite everything. When we left to return from the coast I only grew more confused, could the old woman have been lying to me? What If she was just setting me up against my family, I had told her everything of my life and she nothing of hers not even her name.’

‘At first I decided to try to forget all that I had learned. It was wrong, unnatural. I told myself if i had asked them my famaly could explane evrything. And what she herself had told me about it, demon magic was enough to put me off it, for who wants to know, let alone be reminded that they are even just a little bit demon? After what i had done it would be easyer to think that witches had killed my mother. When your involved with....with..murders like that even indirectly it's easyer to think that your rightious, that it's revenge.However I have always been to curious for my own good and a few months in to my self imposed ban I found that I could not help myself.’

'I was caught between two identitys. I was on one hand a princess of the Helge, destined to be a grate lady umong my clan, able to help the order in its grate works. Or i was the daughter of a witch, hunting down my own kind. There could be no reconsiling of those roles. I began to distrust my famaly more and more, in tern i think they began to distrust me more, sensing my defection before i knew of it myself.'


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Daen realized that if the spirits could move her small crystal pendent, they could move something bigger, and she began to experiment. Sneaking down in to the sword room she would talk to the ancient swords in their stone crypts. They could do little themselves but they were happy to tell her what she wanted to know about her blossoming powers. And soon she could float an apple in the air, or change the course of an arrow mid flight by coercing the spirits in the local aria. Daen did not even tell Rahim about her new skills, though he was her confidant in everything for she knew he would have been very upset with her had he known. Sometimes she thought that he suspected, but he never said anything.

Her magic was discovered in the worst possible way when she fell in to an argument with one of the city girls a young woman who had dared to flirt with Koto. Daen would not have usually minded this. But because of her preoccupation she had been cold with Koto as of late. And there was more than one rumor of Koto’s straying eye. And so when the girl became more brazen, and Daen’s pride was caught up in equation things came to a head. This was if not common, an accepted sight in Nheim, young women fighting over their partners tooth and claw.

Insults had been brandied between the two girls. And then they had sprung upon each other with the rage of two lionesses. Daen though younger and smaller had been in her fair share of fights. However the other girl was more experienced, from the lower city fights were daily occurrences, and she would love nothing more than to humiliate the haughty Helge woman.

The older girl managed to pin Daen against the nearest wall, failing to pin the wriggly little woman to the floor. She had her hands at Daen’s throat as Daen tried to claw out her eyes. Struggling to find breath and aware of the audience watching her impending defeat Daen screamed chokingly in rage.

She did not realize that at her burst of passion the spirits rallied to her call. Daen sent out a burst of spiritual pressure pushing the girl from her. But before she could stop them her spirits attacked the girl, instantly her eyes rolled back in her head and she cried out, going mad as the spirits assailed her. She ran about in a blind panic as if a swarm of bees had attached her. Daen witnessing this sank to the floor in a dead faint.

‘By Helu how has it come to this?’ Rahim whispered, pressing his hands to his cheeks as he took in the scene when he arived. ‘How did she ever learn such things!’ His brother looked grim.

Daen had been bound in her room like a rabid animal. Confused as to what had happed, weeks as a kitten, and with no one to explain it to her she felt utterly alone, even Koto looked at her with fear in his eyes. Her only visitor was Koto's father to tell her that the girl had died, drowning herself in the river. Daen felt like a monster.

When she was let lose she was escorted down to the sword room where a table had been set up. She was instructed to lay down on the table. ‘Don’t worry we don’t mean to harm you, this will help you. This will keep you safe from the evil magic. It will seal it away so that it can never take you over again.’

They made her lay on her front, the men of her family the men she trusted most in the world, who had loved and cared for her now held her down firm as they carved an intricate patterns of runes upon her back. It was excruciating, it was agony, it was white hot pain, fooled by slick heat as the cut was made and blood seeped out. Instinctively Daen knew what the runes meant, they were to lock her within her body, cut her soul off from the world, wounding her very immortal soul, serving it from the grater whole.

She screamed, she pleaded, she begged. But they did not stop, they only murmured passages from the holy texts louder and louder. Daen to began to call upon Helu. But in this deep dark place there was no sun, only the darkness. That god did not dare come here.

In her pain and distress the spirits came again. Answering her call’s for help.

‘We hoped it would never come to this child.’

‘You never showed any sign of this evil before, if you had we would have had no choice but to kill you. We know you rely are good despite your bad blood.’

‘It hurts, it hurts. I try to be good. I didn’t mean to!’

‘Sussh we know child, we know.’


There was the sound of commotion above her, the knife which had so carefully and laboriously carving runes on her back suddenly veered off, biting deeper and slashing to her hip. Strong arms pulled her from the table and bore her at a jog from the room.

‘Can you walk?’ Rahim asked her, letting her feet touch the ground. Evry movement caused searing pain but she managed to run along side her uncle, or rather was dragged along by him as he griped her wrist.

He let out a gasp and a grunt, stopping for a moment as if to catch his breath, his face ashen pale. ‘Helu,’ He panted, clutching at his chest. Taking a few deep breaths he then urged her on, up and up to the cliff tops.

They came to open archway that lead to outside and to a small stable, usually used for goats. Daen could see tethered within two horses, saddled and ready. ‘Come on we need to hurry.’ Rahim said urgently.

There were footsteps behind them, and then emerged her two other uncles, and five other clan men, two of which bore wounds from Rahim’s sword. ‘Rahim don’t be a fool and give the girl over. It is for her own good.’

Rahim shook his head.

‘Brother look how your heart is braking. I can see your bind rune burning livid red at your breast. You know what you do is wrong.’

‘Wrong. No brother burning an innocent woman alive was wrong. Braking our brother’s heart was wrong. And torturing a child that is wrong.’ He gasped, and then doubled over, struggling for breath. His eye’s met Daen’s ‘Child if you have any power now’s the time to use it to save yourself.’ Rahim said desperately through pants.

Daen shrank back, shaking her head. ‘No I wont, I can’t.’

Rahim gave a groan. ‘Do it Daen, then take one of the horses and ride from here. You know the way I showed you.’

‘Daen.’ Artakha called out watching the pale face turn in his direction. Artakha noted dispassionately that the girl looked awful: blood and tears streaked her cheeks. She trembled violently, her face a perfect mask of horror. ‘You cannot win this, child. You cannot defeat us.’

‘I don't want to defeat You!’ Daen cried. She swung her arm wildly to encompass the men. ‘But I want to know the truth. For to long I have been lied to. Did you kill my mother?’

‘We did.’ Rahim croaked, tears spilling from his eyes. ‘We did and we are cursed for it all of us.’

‘Rahim enough!’ Artakha scowled.

‘Why?’ Daen said quietly, but the broken sound to her voice made everyone still. She sounded so very young. She turned her watery eyes to her family. ‘Why did you kill her? And why do you do this to me? What am I?’

No one answered her, stunned to an uncomfortable silence. Rahim coughed up some blood, he wiped his mouth and grinned. ‘I warned you it would haunt you some day.’

‘We cannot take back what we did to your mother Daen. But it was for our faith. She was a witch. A tainted creature. You bare that taint also, but you can fight it. Come with us, submit and we can make you upright and worthy in the eyes of Helu once more.’

‘No.’ retorted, her voice breaking. She dashed the back of a hand across her eyes. Daen nearly crumpled, her grief visible in every line of her body ‘All of this has been lies you murderers!’

'Then you to have blood on your hands child. We could have not found them with out your help.' He reminded her.

'I know, i know, i can never forget!' Daen cried in anguish. She looked up at her uncle her eyes burning with hatred long supressed.

‘Wicked child,’ Artakha said. ‘You will come with us whether you will or no. We cannot let you free in the world knowing what you are. One day not today but one day you will kill with your unnatural magic, mark my words.’

They rounded on her, but with a sob she called the spirits forth, calling up a grate wind that blew them from the room, back hard against the wall. Rahim managed to stand and aid her getting in to the saddle. ‘Ride, and ride, and ride.’ He said. ‘Don’t stop riding, go south, or north or west, but don’t ever stop until you are as far away from here as you can get. They will seek you out Daen. Don’t let them find you.’

He then collapsed to the ground in agony, his heart in a vice like grip by the magic. Punishment for his disloyalty. Daen went to get off her horse and go to him. ‘Go!’ He shouted with the last of his strength, frightening the already restive horse.

Daen galloped for what seemed like miles. The horse had been on of Rahim’s own, to big and strong for her. She rode on, past weariness, week from blood loss, pain and grief. Had the horse not been willing to go on she probably would have never made it to the border. She left by the secret way that Rahim had taken her to visit her brother. Her first thoughts had been of her father and brother, but she knew that she could not go to them. What if her family followed her there? Then they to would be caught up in this unholy mess, so instead she journeyed south with no real idea of what to do, perhaps she could become an Isra, one of the roaming nomads.

Two days in to her ride, and her back became infected. She slid off the horse near unconscious, delirious, on the side of the road but it was better than being awake. Better than knowing. She welcomed an end to the pain in her body, and the pain in her heart, even if that end was death.

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‘But I did not die. Not then nor many times since. I was picked up as fortune would have it by a traveling healer. Who trained me a little in her art. That way when I ended up in Porth I was able to join the Healers guild there and begin to train.’ Daen sighed and stretched out her stiff limbs. ‘And that’s all for today. Leoff I’m sure can fill you in on the rest Vas. I sent a letter to my father from Porth once I settled in. two moths later he was killed defending the north border, and I went and got Leoff from there.’ She looked up at the small barred window. ‘It’s late. I need to get back and check on Alwen.’

Vas wiped a tear from his eye. ‘That was one of the most tragic things I have ever heard.’

Daen stood, ‘Do you think so? I don’t, not any more at least. I’m still alive and have my honor in tact and that’s what matters.’

‘Do you hate them?’

‘I did.’ Daen said thoughtfully. ‘But not anymore. If you lived there you would understand. They thought that they were doing the right thing. There is rule upon stark rule, and they beveled in what they did, believe that it is right. I don’t think it is. But it’s there faith, one day they might have their eyes open. But I can’t hate them, I loved them to much. I just feel……Sad about it now. There is no fate but that we make our own. Some of what happened to me I brought upon myself. I could have been less proud, less quick tempered. I knew my own faults and yet I did nothing about them.’

‘But what was done to you…’

‘Was in the past.’ She paused, as if trying out the idea. ‘Strange.’ She said. ‘it’s strange to say that outloud and believe it.’