Chapter 2
“Dewell, bring her in here!” one of the priests said from the doorway of a large temple.
The priest who had first encountered Kyrin was carrying her toward the temple, and he was covered in her blood. He quickly ran up the stairs and laid her down on a wooden table. She was suddenly surrounded by twelve men, all wearing the same deep, purple robes.
“What happened?” one of them asked as he pressed his hands against the sword wound.
“I ran into four Qualsax Warriors while gathering wood. They chased me, and I found her out by the Boriana ruins. Just as they were going to kill me, they saw her and she… she fought them.”
“And she’s alive? How is that possible?”
Dewell’s voice dropped, “Magic.”
“This one cannot know magic.”
“I saw it.”
Without another word, they began to undress her to see if they could save her life. What they found under her worn and tattered clothing was a body riddled with fresh wounds and vicious scars.
“She’s very young,” yet another priest said.
“Yes, I think she is. Maybe she’s been a prisoner of Qualsax.”
“Maybe”
“What is this?” one of them asked, and pointed to her wrist. Burned onto the soft side of her right wrist was a tiny ‘D’.
“I haven’t seen that mark before.”
“It could be a brand.”
“It could be a deity.”
“We need to inform Lord Alric immediately. We can’t heal her if she poses a risk to Valhara.”
“I’ll go,” Dewell said. He looked at her once more as one of the priests covered her with a thin white sheet, and then he turned and ran out of the temple. He ran through the streets of Valhara and toward the tall castle that stood at the base of a great mountain. It was heavily guarded, but they let the priest through without question.
When Dewell entered the main foyer to the castle, he was met by one of Lord Alric’s private knights. “What do you want, Dewell? King Alric is resting.”
Dewell bowed. “I found a girl out in the mountains by Boriana ruins.”
“Why do we care?”
“She fought off four Qualsax Warriors.”
“One girl did?”
“Yes, she used magic.”
The guard grinned slightly. “She what?”
“She’s injured badly, and we’re waiting for King Alric before helping her.”
The knight nodded. “Very well. Go back to the temple and I will alert the king.”
Dewell nodded and then turned and walked out of the castle.
The knight watched him leave and turned to the nearest staircase. He quickly took the stairs, two at a time, and was soon on the top-most floor. Two more knights were standing before a set of intricately carved wooden doors. The knights bowed to him, and he knocked softly.
“Come,” Alric said. He was a tall man with broad shoulders and a well-muscled body. His blond hair was long but tied back in a low ponytail. His age was somewhat hidden by a short goatee.
The knight walked in and bowed. “I’m sorry to bother you, sir.”
Alric looked up from his book as he read in a lush chair by the fire. “No bother, Finn.”
“Dewell has just come from the temple. He found a girl out by Boriana ruins, and they were attacked by Qualsax Warriors.”
Alric put his book down and stood up, frowning. “Is she dead, then?”
“No, my Lord. Dewell claims that she fought off all four of them using magic.”
The king smiled. “Magic?”
“Yes, my Lord. That’s what he said.”
“I doubt that. There hasn’t been a magic user for almost a century.”
“I know, sir.”
“I’ll go take a look. Is she speaking?” Lord Alric asked as he pulled on a belt containing a long sword.
“No, sir. She is badly injured, and the priests are waiting for your okay to heal her.”
Alric started out of the room. “They better not have killed her by waiting, simply because Dewell thought he saw her use magic.”
As they descended the steps, an older man appeared and looked up the stairs at them. “Sir?”
“You might as well come too, Trox,” Alric said to him.
The elder man nodded and followed them down the stairs. He was in a long silver robe, and his white beard and mustache hung down against his chest. “Where are we going?”
Alric smiled, amused. “Dewell claims to have caught a magic user.”
Trox rolled his eyes. “He has an imagination, that one.”
“Yes, well. She’s injured, and the priests don’t want to heal her without my permission.”
“I’m sure it’s a misunderstanding.”
“Yes, I agree.”
Horses were waiting for them when they got out into the cold night air. They mounted quickly and then rode off toward the temple. The lights were on, and Dewell was waiting at the door for them.
Alric dismounted and tied his horse to a post. “She better still be alive, Dewell.”
“She is, sir. She isn’t well though.”
“Then you should have healed her immediately. This land needs no more casualties from Qualsax.”
Dewell nodded and moved aside so they could enter. Alric shook his head and sighed when he saw the body laid out on the table. As he got nearer, his heart constricted at the wounds the small body held. Vicious scars were covered by bruises and fresh tears across her flesh. Her thigh was still tied tightly with a new bandage, but the skin beneath it was red and inflamed.
“Qualsax did this?” he asked, moving up to the table.
“Not all of this, sir,” Dewell explained. “The only damage she took from the Qualsax Warriors was the abdominal wound.”
Alric turned to him. “This girl killed four Qualsax Warriors and only sustained a single injury?”
“Magic, sir. She used magic.”
“Are you certain?”
“Yes, my Lord.”
Alric turned to her again, this time more guarded and leery. “Heal her. I want to speak to her.”
“She has seen battle,” one of them said as he gently laid his hands over the inflamed arrow wound on her thigh. A soft yellow glow appeared from under his hands, and when he moved them away, the wound was gone. He removed the blood-soaked bandage and tossed it into the fire beside them.
“She could be dangerous,” another priest said. He was running his hands over the sword wound on her abdomen. When the wound didn’t heal, two other priests joined him. Their hands were glowing slightly, but the wound was taking a while to heal.
“Sir?” one of the priests said, lifting her hand. He flipped her hand over to expose the soft side of her wrist, and the ‘D’ burned there.
Alric moved forward and looked at it. “I’ve not seen that before.”
“It could be a property brand.”
“It could, though I’ve never seen one that small or in that location.”
“A lot of these scars are from early childhood,” one of the priests said. Alric looked over at him just as a light-blue glow erupted from his hands, and the scar beneath it disappeared.
Trox walked up and studied the scar that ran alongside her face. “Even Qualsax wouldn’t have visibly scarred one so beautiful.”
“Yes, they do like their women beautiful, don’t they?” Alric said, standing back. “However, she’s dirty, dehydrated, and underweight. That is common for Qualsax slaves.”
“She wouldn’t be a slave, I daresay,” Dewell said as his hands ran along a fresh wound across her lower leg.
Alric nodded. “That is true.”
“What was she carrying?” Trox asked, looking around the room.
“There, on the table,” Dewell said, pointing to a small table beside the fire.
“That’s all?”
“Yes”
Trox went and looked through t
he small amount of belongings. “I’ve never heard of a magic user having a weapon.”
Alric walked over and picked up the flail. “I’ve never seen a weapon like this, either. It’s seen battle too.”
“Yes, it has. She has a flask of water, two gold coins, and a dagger that looks ceremonial to me.”
“She doesn’t have many possessions. That again points to Qualsax. She couldn’t have been on the run for long.”
“The Qualsax Warriors claimed they hadn’t seen her before,” Dewell told them.
“It doesn’t make sense,” Trox said, shaking his head. “If she was in Qualsax, her owner would have shown her off to the others.”
“She’s scarred. He may have been ashamed.”
“Even scarred, she is beautiful though.”
“My Lord?” one of the priests said. Alric turned and saw that the girl was now lying on her stomach. Her back was as covered in scars as her front, most of them indicative of lash marks.
Alric walked over to her and looked down on a beautifully tattooed wolf on her right shoulder. “Qualsax does not tattoo their women.”
“I wonder why a wolf. They are unpredictable and violent.”
“When she wakes, we’ll get answers,” Alric said. “Why is she still not waking up? She is mostly healed.”
“I forced her into a trance. She will heal faster if she is resting,” the closest priest said.
“When she is completely healed, clean her up and restrain her hands at her sides.”
“Sir?” he asked, looking over at his King.
“Magic user’s hands must touch to activate their power.”
“So you think she may use magic?”
“I don’t know. The stories of the magic users spoke of evil old men and withered, haggard women.”
“Evil wears on the soul,” Trox said. “The use of magic aged them before their time.”
“Still, restrain her hands. Even if she doesn’t use magic, she obviously knows how to fight.”
The priest nodded and began to warm water over the fire to clean her with.
Alric went back to her belongings and held the flail in his hand. “This weapon is weighted improperly.”
“Shoddy craftsmanship probably,” Finn said, and walked over.
“Don’t be so sure,” Trox said. “I’ve never seen anything like this. Why go to this amount of trouble to make such an ornate and deadly weapon if not to do it correctly?”
Alric gently set it down beside her things. “I am going to retire. Keep her unconscious through the night, and I will come in the morning to talk to her.”