The cavern around us is a peculiar mix of bustling activity and quiet nothingness. Food is prepared, stocks are organised, and construction work is constantly undergone, but for the most part the tribespeople are left to sit milling around. Whilst they huddle and rest, sometimes cold and in pain, sometimes livelier and louder, they all share the same air of waiting about them. There is no denying that the day is just an obstacle in the way of the coming evening where the real events will commence.
As much as Orrian tries to sit still and calm his breathing, he cannot help but shift regularly beside me whilst anxiously fidgeting with the pendant around his neck. To try and divert his attention, I ask what it is.
“My father passed it to me when he became king, it’s a symbol for the heir to the throne,” Orrian reveals.
“So why do you still wear it?” I ask, Orrian is king now.
“Habit. It’s the last thing that they gave me, and our crown is lost so it’s all we have left,” says Orrian. I silently scold myself. I have managed to take his mind off the coming fight if only for a second, but I didn’t want to remind him of his loss.
We both turn to look as Horith shouts in surprise and complaint, hobbling past him is Edwyn, oblivious to the guard’s protests. His wound has been cared for, but he still presses his hand to it as he walks, the faintest smearing of red seeping through the leaves and ointments to mark his fingertips. I also spot the green paste coating parts of one of his palms, covering the wounds that I inflicted.
“Edwyn!” Orrian exclaims.
“My king!” Edwyn returns the greeting a little too loudly, the sudden courtesy of the proper address is not lost on Orrian either who looks at the hunter questioningly as he bends to sit next to us.
“Ryfon’s caught me up to date, I’ve heard about tonight,” Edwyn explains.
Ryfon is the medic who has been tending to Edwyn all this time, dressing his wounds and being responsible for keeping him in the realm of the living. I have heard the name a few times but had never actually met the man, having only been told about him when I’ve asked Horith and Jaq about Edwyn’s state.
“He’s a traitor, I’ve half a mind to go up there and finish this business now,” Edwyn growls, looking above to the ledge where Faelyn lurks. Of course, the threat is empty, not only would Edwyn struggle to make it past the guards but even if he did succeed, he’d be exiled. Whilst he might not mind a more permanently solitary life of hunting by his den, Orrian could never truly be respected as king if his opponent had been so dishonourably murdered.
“Yes, he is,” Orrian says passively. These last few minutes he has slipped into silence, contrastingly however, possibly because he has been bed bound all this time, Edwyn refuses to stop showering him with support.
“I reckon you’ve got him, he’s too skinny and you’re faster too. You’re stronger and you’re faster, you can beat-” he begins.
“Edwyn,” Orrian interrupts
“-you just need to stay out of range. Wait ‘till he swings and then duck inside, once you’re in don’t stop until he surrenders-” Edwyn continues.
“Edwyn!” Orrian shouts, “Just, not now.” I can visibly see the stress on the young king’s face, he’s definitely gone a slight shade paler. The fight is not long away now at all, whilst his intentions may be pure, I doubt Orrian wants Edwyn’s last minute advice if it’s going to ruin all of the day’s mental preparations.
“I’m sorry,” Orrian apologises before pausing for a few seconds “tell me something else.”
“Like what?” Edwyn looks mystified, still clearly uncertain as to the reason behind his king’s discomfort.
“Here. How did you find this place?” Orrian suggests.
“Your dad prepared it for us-”
“What?!” Orrian exclaims, dragging his attention back towards the conversation.
“Yes, it had been a mine decades ago. Nylian and his father used to exile people here so that they could still be useful to them. When the Halpians started getting more aggressive, your dad asked Jaq and a small group of others to rediscover it and convert it into a haven just in case. And thank the gods he did,” Edwyn reveals. “We had to make a couple of changes, finish things off to make it liveable, but it gave us shelter those first few days and then we had time to work on it as we needed. The worst bit was discovering which bits we could and couldn’t live in, after so long without people most of the supports had rotted and the tunnels would occasionally collapse.”
“I can’t believe he didn’t tell us,” Orrian states, his voice laced with hurt.
“I doubt he’d think we’d need it if I’m honest, and he couldn’t have many people heading up here or they might have been spotted. Only a small group knew about it, including Faelyn.
When the fire broke out, he was one of the first to get free from the village. The rest of us ushered the families and the elderly to him and Horith. Eventually they got cold feet and wanted to get away while they still could. I suppose I can’t blame them for that, but I had to drag Jaqquin from rushing back in there.” I look over at Jaq, still observing everyone and maintaining order. Here was Edwyn, the man who had taken an arrow for me despite being a stranger, talking about him with immense pride and reverence, I had been right to trust him.
“It was slow going getting everyone through the mountains, it took a couple of days of sleeping in the open with some of us standing guard, it’s amazing they didn’t catch us to be honest, the fighters who held their ground back at home must
