He pulled off his bow, then hurried toward the castle. Jessilynn tugged free her own bow and ran after him. Her plodding footsteps seemed so loud compared to the elf’s silent passage. They crossed through the courtyard, stopping at the large castle doors. They were shut, with no visible sign of attack. Dieredon’s frown deepened. The elf briefly investigated the castle doors, tugged once to confirm they were still locked, then peered up the castle walls.
“Check the outer grounds for any signs of life,” he said, hopping atop of Sonowin. “I’ll investigate the castle, see if I can discover where they’ve fled. If you find yourself in trouble, whistle as loud as you can.”
“I will,” Jessilynn said. She clutched her bow and tried not to let her nervousness show. Being alone in the great courtyard made her uneasy. Something had gone terribly wrong, and they both knew it. Dieredon flew higher and higher until he was even with one of the upper windows of a tower, then leapt off Sonowin’s back. He vanished into the stone edifice. Wanting to be useful, Jessilynn started scanning the area, trying to decide what she was even looking for.
Aimlessly, she began walking through the courtyard, slowly making her way around to the western side. The hairs on the back of her neck began to stand as more and more things looked askew. She found overturned barrels, broken shafts of wood that might have been spears, bits of shredded clothing. Against one wall of the tower she saw a stain, and stepping closer, she saw the stone was chipped. The stain was, without a doubt, a great smear of blood.
When her fingers brushed against it she heard a distant sound, one she could hardly believe.
Laughter?
Closing her eyes, she did her best to listen, and sure enough she heard it again. From somewhere in the building, she decided, but where? With how large the tower was, it’d take time for Dieredon to find them if he also heard. Jogging alongside the stone, Jessilynn looked for an alternate entrance beyond the locked gates. Rounding the southwest corner, she found a small jut built out from the wall, just narrow enough for a single man to pass through. It was blocked by a single gate. A way to flank attackers at the front gate if the situation demanded it, she guessed. Beyond the iron gate was a second wooden door. From beyond that, she heard another round of muffled laughter.
“Dieredon?” she called out, but so pathetic was her cry that she doubted anyone could have heard her. She swallowed, told herself to be brave. She was a paladin of Ashhur. She was supposed to be a champion of mankind, not a girl quaking in fear at a stranger’s laughter.
She touched the gate. With a grinding squeak it pushed inward. It took a moment for her to overcome her surprise. She’d been convinced it would be locked like the front gates had been. Of course, there was still the wooden doors just beyond. Stepping into the dark passageway, she grabbed the handle and pulled.
It opened with a dull thud, revealing a long, unlit hallway. Offering a prayer to Ashhur for safety, she pulled an arrow out of her quiver and pressed it against the string of her bow. The arrowhead lit up with a soft blue-white glow, and with its light guiding her, she stepped into the hallway. The echoes of her footfalls made her wince, and again she thought of Dieredon’s silent passing. Jessilynn wore lighter armor than the other paladins, a special suit requested by Jerico himself from a traveling smith. It was heavy leather, studded, with her chest and shoulders reinforced with a variety of plate and chain. She could move far easier than the others in their platemail, but it was still heavy, and worse, noisy. Each step she took sounded like thunder. Her fear made the light of her arrow falter until she could barely see five feet before her.
Again she heard laughter, this time of two different men. Their voices were deep, boisterous, yet muffled too much for her to make out the words they occasionally spoke.
“Hello?” she called out, traveling deeper into the Green Castle. “Is someone there?”
At the sound of her voice the laughter stopped. Jessilynn’s heart caught in her throat as she heard movement and the rattle of weaponry. She took a step back, stumbling as her foot landed atop a heavy stone. She flung her elbow to the side to brace herself against the wall, except the wall wasn’t there. She landed on hard dirt. The arrow and bow fell from her hands, clattered to the ground in the darkness.
The bow was easy enough to find given its size. For another moment she felt for the arrow, then realized she had a dozen more in the quiver on her back. Drawing another, she notched it on the string. The metal arrowhead brightened, surrounded by the glow of her faith, and finally able to see, she looked about.
She was in a large tunnel that stretched sharply into the earth for a distance far beyond the reach of her light. Spinning around, she found the broken bricks of the castle wall, the gap the size of a large man. The panic she’d fought against assaulted her at double strength. The castle hadn’t been taken from outside. It’d been tunneled into and taken from within.
She stepped out, pointed her arrow down the hall. She heard a door open, and yellow eyes glinted a mere fifty feet away. Jessilynn let fly her arrow, and as it streaked down the hall she was finally able to see. Orcs, two of them, each wearing crude armor and carrying swords. The arrow struck the first in the chest, blasting him off his feet. The other let out a yell, screaming in alarm. Jessilynn flung her bow across her back and ran. The exit looked so small, yet so bright. Her heart pounded in her ears as she heard more voices clamoring behind her. It sounded like an entire army awakening.
“Dieredon!” she screamed, fear giving strength to her legs. She blasted through the door and out into the painful daylight. “Dieredon!”
Without slowing she raced into the courtyard, wanting to put as much distance between her and the castle as possible. Her lungs burned, and when she reached where they had first landed she spun in circles, looking for Sonowin’s great wings. She didn’t see them, or the horse they were attached to, anywhere.
From the side entrance orcs burst out, rounding the corner with weapons drawn. At first there were only a few, and they squinted against the light. Grabbing her bow, Jessilynn let fly an arrow at the closest. It sailed wide, bouncing twice off the dirt. Her eyes widened as the orc closed the distance, rusty sword lifted high to strike. Before she could nock another, an arrow flew in from the sky, piercing the orc’s throat. The shaft remained halfway embedded, and dark blood poured around it.
“Your hand!” she heard Dieredon shout from high above. Flinging her bow back over her shoulder, she turned around and lifted her arms. Sonowin dove toward her, Dieredon on her back releasing arrow after arrow. They sailed over her head, and she heard pained cries from behind each time one found purchase. The elf put aside his bow, reached down, and yanked her onto Sonowin’s back as the winged horse momentarily halted in place. Then they were moving skyward, and the feel of the wind was enough to bring Jessilynn to tears.
She clutched the elf tightly, then looked down to the castle. In the courtyard swarmed hundreds of orcs.
“They tunneled in,” she shouted, struggling to regain her composure.
“Then all is lost in the Hillock. The orcs have emptied out of the Wedge, every last one of them. Thousands upon thousands, greater than any army of man.”
Sonowin’s wings steadied, and Jessilynn loosened her grip on Dieredon’s waist, chastising herself for being so afraid. What was the point of all those years of training under Lathaar and Jerico if she would panic against the very first enemy she ever faced? Still, she couldn’t chase away the image of the orc falling backward, her arrow crushing his chest as if she’d struck him with a maul. The way the blood had splattered against the walls, colored purple by the blue hue of her arrow…
“Where do we go now?” she asked, trying to think about anything else.
“The east is theirs, and so the west we must protect,” he said. “Over the past five years I’ve never received word of any other of the races traveling into Neldar.”
“Isn’t that a good thing?”
“The door to their cage is open in the east, yet they remain behind,” Dieredon shouted, shaking his head. “The question is…why?”
She could not imagine a reason. The wildlands were the elf’s expertise, not hers. She glanced behind her, offering a prayer for anyone that might still remain lost or hidden in the great nation of Neldar. Celestia’s cursed children had taken them as their own, and from the laughter she heard deep within the castle, the orcs were more than comfortable in their new home.
“I’m sorry,” she shouted.
“For what?”
“For panicking.”
