of sight. The moon hung full in the sky, casting a glow off the powder-fine snow and onto the very edge of the forest as he crouched and waited in silence for his prey to reappear.
Michael was dressed in white, the leather of his tunic trimmed with pearl-colored brocade, only his reddish hair and blue eyes visible against the landscape. He was tall with a strong, lean build, and the large white wings typical of Adorian men.
He heard rustling to his left from across the field. He pulled an arrow from his quiver and readied it against the bow. In the darkness, he saw the gleam of two eyes, the same green hue that had been evading him. He watched them look down, then behind. Having seen something, the wolf leapt over a drift and into the light. It was covered in snow, and though Michael could barely see it from such a distance, he could tell this was indeed a different wolf. It was much bigger and less aware that it was being hunted. Michael stood up and eased his way in the same direction as his prey. He remained on the opposite side of the field and when the wolf began to pick up its pace a bit, Michael mirrored its actions. The forest would thin out if they went much farther, this was his last chance. He knelt down and steadied his aim. Releasing the arrow, it flew through the air across the field, letting no more sound escape from the bow than a mere whisper as the string fell back into place. As the arrow approached its intended target, Michael saw a girl move into its stead. He stood frozen for a moment, not believing his eyes, then heard a cry and a whimper from the wolf as the girl fell to the ground.
Dropping his bow, his large wings opened and with a fluid motion he rose into the air and glided across the field to where the girl lay.
'Are you…' he stopped mid-sentence as he saw markings on her cloak. There was little need to inquire into the girl's lineage.
She seemed unaware that he'd approached her and as soon as his hand touched her shoulder, she reeled from his grasp. Eyes wide, her expression was one of complete surprise. She held her hand to her side and shrank away from his touch.
'You have wings,' her words sounded frail and thin, and to his shock, the very moment she struggled to speak he caught sight of the huge sword that lay at her side. A broadsword, it was much too large for anyone of her slight stature to use effectively. She was a wispy creature, with a thin figure and delicate, defined features. Dark red hair, visible even in the shadows, tumbled past her shoulders in thick waves, a stark contrast to her snowy white complexion. It reminded him a little of his own pale coloring. He started to ask her about the sword when her eyes flickered shut and she groaned in pain.
This did not bode well. Fears of how many Ereubinians had crossed over the divide flooded his veins like ice water, but he had no choice. He was scantily armed and alone. If it was a trap, it was too late to back out of it.
He leaned over to pick her up, first moving the sword from her reach. He felt a prick against his neck.
'Stay… away… from…' Another spasm of pain took care of her acerbic tongue, though it did not remove the dagger she held at his jugular.
In all the years he'd been in battle, he had never once seen a woman fight, let alone stumble upon one in the middle of the night in a protected realm, carrying more weapons than he probably was aware of. He quite genuinely couldn't discern what to do first.
A dark red stain was spreading from beneath the hand clamped on her side, soaking her tunic. He took a chance and lifted his hand to hers, prying the knife free, hoping the pain would override her strength of grip. 'I need to see how badly you've been wounded.'
She was struggling to keep her eyes open, but shook her head. It was mere seconds before her breath grew shallow and she lost consciousness.
After securing her sword at his back, he moved her arm away from her side. It was probably a shallow wound, but it was bleeding steadily. Placing his hand at the base of the arrow, he gripped the shaft with the other and glanced up at her. Leaving it whole would cause more harm than good, but he wasn't certain she was completely unconscious. Her cry as he snapped the arrow off, leaving the tip in place, answered his question.
She moaned and fought him, but he outweighed her by at least a hundred pounds — probably more.
'I have no intention to harm you, nor did I to begin with. I didn't see you,' he spoke softly, feeling more sympathy than he cared to. As much as he disdained her world, her whimpering was woeful enough to bring any Adorian to his knees.
He noticed then that the animal he had been so certain was a wolf was in fact a dog. It rose and trotted alongside them as Michael carried her through the woods to his horse. 'Is this beast a friend of yours?' he asked her.
'Koen,' she whispered. It was the last thing she said before finally succumbing to unconsciousness.
He placed her on the horse first, pulled himself up behind her, holding her around the waist with one arm, and took the reins with the other hand. He had brought his horse to carry the spoils of his hunt. This was far from what he'd expected to return with.
It was not a short ride to the capital, but it went quickly as he was consumed with watching the horizon. His only thought was to gather his men as swiftly as possible and strengthen the border.
The cuts on her face and the bruising were plainly visible as they entered the gates of Cyphrus, but what caused him to wonder more was her clothing. Though she wore an Ereubinian cloak, her pants and tunic were human, typical of the poorer villages.
He slowed his horse to a trot just outside of the keep, stopping as a stable boy approached them.
'My Lord,' he bowed, taking the reins in his small hands.
'Wake Jareth and tell him I need his men on the southern border.' He turned to one of the two guards who approached as he dismounted. 'Summon the Arch Elders. I'll convene with them after I have taken her to the healer.' He didn't wait for their acquiescence.
Starting up the stairs to the massive double doors of the keep, a scant smile passed over his lips. There, sitting patiently, as though he'd known in advance where Michael was taking his companion, was the dog.
'Well, come on then, no sense leaving you out here alone.'
After navigating a long hallway, he came to a narrow staircase that was easy to miss if one wasn't looking for it. At its base was a small room, lit only by the dwindling light of the hearth. In a chair nestled in the corner was an elderly woman, the healer Aulora, her head resting sideways where it had fallen onto her shoulder.
'Tu denai nordumbra led estrinigh,' he whispered.
She looked up and studied the girl for a moment before answering him in the same tongue and motioning for him to set her onto the bed nearby.
'Is she human?' Michael asked.
Aulora ignored his question and began to tend to the girl's wounds, chanting softly as she worked. He'd turned to leave her to her art when the healer spoke, 'She is not human.'
He stared back at her, praying she'd give him a direct answer for a change. 'Was she escorted, or did she enter alone?'
The healer hummed a bit more and then smoothed an unruly red curl from the girl's forehead. 'No, this one is not human.' After patting the girl's cheek affectionately, she pulled the cloak from around her and studied it in the firelight. He hadn't taken the time to examine it, but the markings he'd noted as Ereubinian also indicated authority. Feeling that Aulora had said all that she was going to, Michael took the cloak and started out the door.
None but Adorians were able to pass the divide. All others simply passed over it as if Adoria didn't exist. It had been this way for so long, thousands of years, that the time before the divide that protected them seemed merely legend.
While Michael waited for the elders to assemble, he walked the corridors, running through options in his head. He eventually stopped outside their chambers, waiting to be summoned.
Michael breezed through the doorway into their presence. There were twenty-four of them, both men and women. This had been the governing body over Adoria since the dawn of the first age of war, answerable to the man who once held the title of King. Michael, who currently held the seat of sovereignty, was the son of the Adorians' most honored soldier.
Gabriel, Michael's father, had led many battles and had protected many villages from ruin. He was the last to lead the Braeden — an elite group of male Adorians whose wings were removed at birth so they appeared to be human men. Trained from infancy, they were taught the art of warfare and the customs of Middengard, the human realm. Deadly accurate in their abilities to both wield a sword and shoot a bow, they'd held off the total captivity of
