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With a rumbling crack, the mountainside split into two to reveal the heavy drawbridge leading into the city of Fort Valour. “We can’t dawdle,” Aya said.
“We have to remember our quest.”
However, it was difficult not to stop, with their pockets jingling with human gold. There was so much activity around them – a festival of some sort seemed to be coming up, as pretty lanterns and brightly-coloured pieces of cloth hung from the surrounding buildings. Seeing the decorations, Villid felt a stab of guilt as he remembered the
Elves’ festival. Aya seemed to be having similar thoughts, but when he glanced at her, she gave him a reassuring smile.
“Aya! Villid!” shouted a delighted voice, as a young boy came running towards them, waving his hand eagerly and almost knocking over an elderly human man.
He suddenly tripped, and half-fell into Aya, who caught him before he hit the ground.
“Hello, Navin,” she laughed in surprise. It was the teenage Knabi boy they had helped last time they were here. “How’s your wing?” she asked kindly.
“It’s better,” Navin grinned at her. “So, did you find her? Your Seer?”
Aya’s face
fell. “We found her,
” she replied.
“Oh,” Navin’s smiled disappeared. “I’ve said something
bad, haven’t I?”
Aya briefly explained what had happened since she had last seen them, carefully missing the glorious, forbidden nights that she and Villid had spent together. Navin’s bright blue eyes widened when Aya said she had found Llyliana’s body at the temple.
“But... who killed her?” Navin asked, as they walked along the busy street through Fort Valour.
The thought of who hadn’t played on Aya’s mind much. She had been so determined to prepare a burial for Llyliana, and then with everything that had happened with Villid, the question of who had killed Llyliana hadn’t seemed to matter.
“It could have been Darkma,” said Villid quietly; it was the first time he had spoken since Navin had appeared. “The body had been there a day or so.”
Aya went quiet. Navin shot a nervous glance at Villid, and quickly changed the subject.
“The Dragons asked you to search for the other races?” he said.
“Yes – our Seers came back. Ghosts, spirits or visions, I’m not sure, but the Dragons gave us this quest to help Theldiniya.” said Villid, when Aya didn’t answer.
“Then... that will include the Knabi?” Navin asked nervously.
“Correct,” Villid nodded. “Only we don’t know where your land is.”
No one spoke for a few moments. They were
approaching the stall where Mical worked. He gave a strained smile, glancing nervously at his other customers.
“Room.” said Villid shortly, pointing a finger at the anxious human.
“Right away,” Mical muttered, before shuffling away.
“I wish I was as tough as you, Villid,” said Navin enviously. “Tyrans are so strong. I’ve explored the city a bit whilst I’ve been here, Aya. I’ve seen everything. It’s amazing – I’ve never seen humans or Tyrans or
Elves before, only paintings of them. The drawings don’t really look like them at all, do they?”
“I suppose not,” Aya said weakly.
“I went all the way to the Knabi part, Aya,” said Navin eagerly. “And I found some more Knabi. I was scared at first, in case they’d know me, but they were friendly. Some of them were born here! And they’d never seen Vallahan before! I told them about it, how wonderful it was. I even made some friends.”
“Vallahan?” Villid asked. “That’s the name of the Knabi homeland?”
“It sounds like you’ve been busy,” said Aya, as Mical came back with a c
rudely-cut key. “Keep it,” Mical
muttered, and waved them away. “Bottom floor, room number 4. Make yourself at home. My lady,” he added, bowing his head respectfully to Aya.
“How long are you staying here for?” Navin asked as they entered the modest inn behind Mical’s stall. “A few days? Because I heard one of the Dwarven festivals is coming up. It’ll be so fun to see how other cultures celebrate things, won’t it?
I hope you can
stay to see it.”
“We’re on an important quest, Navin,” said Villid impatiently, as they entered room 4. “We don’t have time for festivals.”
Navin turned to Aya, his eyes large and blue. Aya was torn between laughter and the desire to appease Villid. She hesitated, then shook her head sadly.
“We didn’t come back to settle here,” she explained. “We need to reach the land of the Knabi, Vallahan. And
we need a Knabi to lead the way.”
Navin shifted uncomfortably in his seat at her words, and turned away. Villid made an impatient noise.
“You can’t stay here forever!” he stormed at the astonished Navin. “You can’t run from your people and never go back!”
Navin suddenly looked indignant. “And when’s the last time you visited the Tyrans?” he asked smoothly. Such a cutting comment from Navin left Aya shocked. There was a tense silence in the room, where Villid and Navin glared at each other. “Stop it.” Aya said quickly. “We can’t fight. Navin, we can’t force you to come back with us. Villid-” she stopped, as the angry Tyran turned to look at her. As their eyes met, his angry gaze filled with softness. When he spoke, however, his voice remained harsh.
“We should find some Knabi who can lead the way,” he said, his eyes never moving from Aya’s. “We will rest for tonight, stock up, and make haste tomorrow.”
“You’re leaving?” Navin asked, looking at Aya.
“Navin, we were sent by our Seers – and by the Dragons – to do this,” Aya said gently. “We can’t waste time.”
“Right,” Navin said, looking disappointed.
The evening soon came, and Mical
gave the three of them a free meal; he still glanced nervously at Villid’s sword and axe each time they approached him. “More potatoes?” he offered, piling food onto their plates whenever they were empty, and always made sure their goblets were full of ale. Much to Villid’s annoyance, Navin had squashed up beside Aya, and chattered away about things he had found in the city since they had left.
“You weren’t gone long, so I couldn’t see everything,” Navin said with his mouth full as he munched. “But I found the Knabi area. I can’t believe how many different kinds of people there are. Before I came here all I’d seen were pictures of Tyrans and
Elves and humans... well, except the strange mage who told me to come here, and the Darkma things that attacked me. I really like it here. They get us to train every day too, so I’m getting better at sword fighting.” there was a short silence as he shovelled more food into his mouth.
After the meal, Aya and Villid said goodbye to Navin, who was staying in a different room. Aya lay awake that night,
worrying about the journey and what it would hold for them. She still could not quite believe the path that the Seers had made for her and Villid. The Darkma in the west were getting stronger – the dark creatures she had only heard about in fairy tales. They’d seen strange wolves in her forest with poisonous blood – were they signs of the Darkma’s strength? Aya rolled onto her side, feeling more and more anxious. Would the Knabi believe their story? How would they react to Villid? More importantly, how would they ever find Vallahan? They could wander forever through forests and terrains, valleys and mountains, and never find it. Navin had made it plain that he had no desire to accompany them back to his homeland – and no wonder, Aya thought to herself. Fort Valour was safe and inviting, and she herself felt reluctant to leave.
Aya rolled over again, and Villid shifted next to her. “Are you awake, my darling?” he whispered.
“I’m awake,” Aya breathed back. She moved so that her face was close to his. His eyes were still closed, his breathing slow and heavy, his strong arms wrapped around her.
She half-smiled and kissed his lips. No matter how impossible the task ahead seemed, Aya felt she could do it if Villid was by her side.

The next day dawned wet and humid; rain pelted the roof of the inn and the atmosphere felt hot and damp. When Aya and Villid left the inn, many of the stalls at the market were closed.
“There’s a storm coming,” said a passing human man, his tunic held over his head. “I suggest you get your business done quickly today, sir. My lady,” he added, bowing quickly to Aya before running in the opposite direction.
Aya and Villid half-ran towards the stables, carrying their belongings on their backs. Now and then they saw people emerging from houses, shaking their heads at the rain, and retreating back to their homes. As they approached the gate, a Knabi guard stopped them.
“Nobody is permitted to leave today.” he said to them.
“But it’s important!” Villid said.
“That may be,” said the Knabi, “But a violent storm has erupted on the mountainside. We Knabi can’t even fly up there right now. The mages have cast a protective spell over the city so that we aren’t affected, but believe me, it’s bad. Any business you have must wait until the storm has cleared.”
Aya and Villid looked at each other. “Well, we will have to find the Knabi village,” said Aya. “We could get someone to help us find the homeland.”
“Aya, Villid!” said a voice.
“Oh no,” Villid sighed.
Navin came running up to them, so drenched his hair stuck to his forehead and his wings were sodden. “I’m glad I found you,” he panted. “They won’t let you out, there’s a -”
“Storm, yeah, we know,” said Villid. “We were about to make our way to the Knabi village, actually -”
“I’ll come with you,” said Navin eagerly. He beamed at Aya. “I’ll show you which way to go.”
As they trudged along in the rain, they heard the howling wind around the mountainside. Up above, they could see ugly black storm clouds and every few minutes a thread of bright lightning attacked the sky. It was as if a huge, invisible ceiling had been placed above the city; the thunder sounded far-off, the lightning flashed above them, but only the rain tumbled down onto their heads.
Aya ached to take Villid’s hand in hers, but she knew it wouldn’t be a wise idea. Even in Fort Valour, it was surely unheard of for different races to be together. As they walked, Navin chattering, Villid’s face remained stony and emotionless. It was as if he were a different person when they were surrounded by other people; he walked along, keeping his eyes fixed on the path ahead of him, never smiling or showing any compassion. Aya knew it was normal for Tyrans – and how awful it must be, she thought, her heart going out to him, to never be able to show love or friendship, never to be able to confide a secret or show weakness. She knew he was afraid to show his true feelings when they weren’t alone, and Aya respected that.
“Here we are.
” said Navin as they reached a pearly white gate separating them from the common area and the Knabi village. It opened by itself as they approached it, making a loud grinding noise as they entered a large village that looked completely different from the place they had just
been minutes earlier. The ground was an uneven stone pathway with patches of grass sticking out here and there, and the buildings surrounding them were proud, tall and made of stone, simple and perfectly straight, with warm lanterns lit high away from the reach of Knabi children. Above each lantern was a small statuette of a golden eagle. They stared in awe at the grand buildings. There weren’t many Knabi around in the rain; every now and then they saw one fly high above them and land near the top windows of the buildings, which were large enough for a man to fit through.
“Does this look anything like home?” Aya asked.
“A bit,” said Navin. “But it’s not the same.”
Aya knew what he meant. The
Elven village had had the same buildings and paving as her village back home, but the atmosphere had definitely felt strange, almost artificial.
“Come on, let’s find someone who can show us the way to Vallahan.” grunted Villid.
The village was not large, although it took them a while to cover it. Almost every Knabi they approached looked reluctant to leave Fort Valour, or even downright terrified.
“Why do you want to go there?” a small Knabi girl asked them.
“It’s better here. It’s safe.
”
“Be quiet, Anyi,” said her mother, throwing an apologetic glance at Aya, Villid and Navin. “If you’re looking for a way to the Knabi land, I know someone who may be able to help you.”
she said. She had long, curly auburn hair and
tired grey eyes, and she frowned as she struggled to keep her energetic daughter still on her knee. “He lives at the armoury. His name is Morque.”
“Thank you.
” said Aya, smiling at the little girl, who was waving energetically at them as they turned to leave. “Was that an
E
lf, Mummy?” she asked. “A real
Elf?”
“She is lovely,” Aya said fondly as they left the building and back into the pouring rain.
“I love babies,” Navin cooed. “They’re so cute. Little fingers and toes...”
“Yes – where’s the armoury?” asked Villid irritably.

Eventually they found a wide building. Outside it hung a large sign with a crossed bow and arrows painted onto it. It creaked slowly as the rain pelted the thick wood. “This must be it.” said Navin, and they walked inside.
Inside was colder than outside and it was oddly dark; there were no windows and the one room was lit with small candles here and there. The floor seemed to be made up of straw and loose bits of wood, and odd, shapeless shadows flickered on the wooden walls.
“Who’s there?” said a raspy voice. Navin jumped.
“Erm – I’m Villid,” said Villid into the darkness. “I’m a Tyran. I’m with my
Elf companion Aya and Navin the Knabi. We were told we could come to you for...”
“Damned villagers,” muttered the same voice. “Always bothering me. No one leaves me in peace, no...” he continued to grumble as he stepped out of the shadows.
He was tall for a Knabi and younger than he sounded; his tangled, thick, auburn hair tumbled past his shoulders and his steel grey eyes looked sharp on his chiselled face. There were bristles over his chin and his mouth was shaped into a scowl. “What do you want?” he grunted.
“A Knabi over the road said we could come to you for directions to Vallahan.
” Villid answered. The Knabi
was almost the same height as him, and his broad shoulders weren’t dissimilar to Villid’s. The Knabi’s mouth twitched, before he turned and trudged back into the darkness. His large wings were a dark grey, folded into his back. He disappeared for a moment, before the entire room flooded with light; he had lit a lantern at the back of the room. Before him stood a roughly-carved table with various weapons lain on it – arrows, bows, short daggers and axes. He set the heavy lantern down on the table and turned to face them. With the light behind him, he looked like little more than a silhouette.
“Please, sir...?” Aya said gently.
“Morque.” the Knabi grunted.
“We need to get to Vallahan.” she said patiently. Morque looked her up and down.
“And why would an Elf and a Tyran want to visit Vallahan?” he asked.
“Our business is our own,” said Villid irritably. “Can you help us or not?”
Morque rolled his eyes slowly. “Many Knabi refuse to
leave this city.” he said.
“Yes,” Aya replied. “We’ve asked many people to help us, but they all said they didn’t want to leave. The last person we asked directed us to you. Could you help us?”
Morque didn’t answer, but his eyes rolled over to Navin. “You’re a Knabi, aren’t you?” he growled. “Why don’t you take them?”
Navin shifted uncomfortably. “I can’t go back,” he said finally.
“Why?”
Navin glanced first at Aya, then at Villid, and then forced his gaze to meet Morque’s. “I – I failed the flying test.” he squeaked.
Morque raised a bushy eyebrow, and made a noise that was between a laugh and a cough. “Then how do you intend to learn to fly?” he asked Navin.
Navin looked at the floor. “Never mind that,” said Villid, getting impatient. “Can’t you take us? Or at least point us in the right direction?”
“I have a map,” Morque suggested, turning again and heading towards the back wall, where a large shelf stood, filled with scrolls and old books. He pulled several out and unrolled them, throwing them aside after scanning them for a few seconds. On the fourth scroll, he blew on it, looked at it and turned again to Villid, Aya and Navin.
“Here,” he thrust it into Villid’s hand. “It clearly shows how to get to Vallahan.
Now go away.” he waved a hand at them.
“Thank you.” said Aya.
“Go away!” Morque growled.
“Come on.” Villid ushered, and they walked out of the dingy building and into the welcoming daylight. The rain had died down and only a light shower remained. Villid unravelled the scroll; it was huge, and the three of them had to hold it before they could all see it clearly.
“Look,” Aya pointed, “it’s in all the different languag
es. There’s
Elven script here.”
“You’re right,” Villid exclaimed in surprise; he had expected the Knabi language alone to be on the map. “Here’s Tyran script – and is that human script?”
“And here’s Knabi,” said Navin, pointing to swirling, joined letters just below the Elven script.
“Fort Valour’s here,” said Villid, pointing near the middle of the map. “Vallahan is... here, look. To the south-east,” he pointed towards the bottom-right corner of the map, where the word ‘Vallahan’ was written in several different types of script, and roughly illustrated with a crude picture of what looked like a human with wings.
“How flattering,” Aya mused.
“Look at all these paths,” said Navin curiously, looking closely at the map. “There’s so much detail.”
“Look, there’s Millnock.
” Villid pointed at the small human village where they had stayed. Villid and Aya glanced at each other. Last time they had been to Millnock, the inn
had been on fire. They had barely thought about the small human village since they had left.
It was a detailed map, full of pictures and notes. Villid stole a look at the north end of the map – the Tyran city was in roughly the right place, and was illustrated as a square with four sketched lanterns around it. The name of the city, Xentar, was scribbled in the middle of the square.
“Is that your homeland?” Aya asked softly, gesturing towards Xentar. Villid nodded slowly. The city was only drawn as a small, insignificant sketch, but the Great Sands, the wide desert north of Xentar, was also there, and wasn’t marked on the map. Villid remembered the Great Sands well – as a ritual for all young Tyrans, they were sent out to the outside lands in search for food, shelter, and weren’t allowed to return until they had reached adulthood. The Great Sands were huge, treacherous, and scorching hot. Many times unpredictable sandstorms would trap training Tyrans, and they were never heard of again. Food was scarce there too – young Tyrans were lucky to return with a dead animal, and when they did, they were thrown straight back into training. The ones who managed to avoid or escape the deserts travelled to other parts of Theldiniya, learning of the outside world before returning to their clan and the wars.
“Villid?” said Navin, and Villid blinked and shook his head. “What?” he asked.
“Look at this side.” Navin pointed to the west side of the map. The Darkma dwelled in the west side of the land; but Villid, Aya and Navin had been unaware of just how much land they had.
Almost a quarter of the land was cut off by a long wall which was labelled ‘The Gate’. On the west side of the wall, the land itself had been coloured grey in charcoal, and sharp, ugly shapes of houses had been sketched in small groups here and there. One large, spiked building with five towers stood in the middle, and a lake sat in the south labelled ‘the Black Fortress’.
As they stared at the west side of the map, there was an uncomfortable silence. “The scroll’s getting wet.” said Villid eventually, and they made their way back to the inn, Villid tucking the map into his tunic.
He lay awake that night, thinking about the map, and the odd drawings. He definitely recognised the style – the use of the charcoal, the slanted writing, as if he had seen similar drawings before. He opened his eyes, and saw that Aya was awake too; her bright green eyes gazed into his. She smiled softly and kissed him. Villid pushed the map from his mind, pulling Aya close and brushing his lips against her neck. The heavy rain endlessly pummelled on the window, as the two oblivious lovers held each other through the night.