Druyun II: The Divine Weapon

By Ryan M Wilson

A world in chaos...
After centuries of peace, the land of Druyun has been thrust back into the grips of war. Though their enemy is not one another, but rather the mysterious, red-robed force of Spark wielders who have begun their takeover of the countryside. As towns fall before them and their numbers grow with an army of undead, they wield a path of havoc and death.

A towering monster...
At the heart of the evil army stands the monstrosity known as Monnos. The circumstances of its true creation a mystery to all but a few, it started its journey from the ruins of Newbarrow and appears unstoppable as heroes and armies fall beneath it. True believers of Edos use the monster as a rallying cry to turn against their Spark brothers, seeing the monster as the second coming of Dogma himself.

Our last hope...
As the destruction continues, a group of young adventurers travel in search of a mysterious land, in the hopes that it could bring about an end to Monnos. Survivors of the tournament of Newbarrow, they have formed a bond that cannot be easily broken. But little do they know of the trials and horrors that await them on their journey...

'Druyun II: The Divine Weapon' is the second book in the Druyun fantasy series by author Ryan M Wilson, chronicling the adventures of the Athamages as they fight not only for Druyun’s survival, but their own.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tellwell Talent
• Release date: Mar 2, 2022
• ISBN: 9781922703880

Ryan M Wilson

Ryan M Wilson has always had a love of writing; whether it was film scripts during his years in film school or writing custom campaigns for long nights of Dungeons and Dragons. Living in Australia, Ryan works in the finance industry by day but lives in a fantasy world by night on his laptop. A fan of all things fantasy and sci-fi, it has been Ryan’s dream to write a series of fantasy novels based on his created world of Druyun.Follow the series at https://www.druyun.com or visit https://linktr.ee/druyun for details on how to get your copy today! (Available in Print & eBook worldwide!)

Book preview

PROLOGUE

Do not enter the cave.

For all those who venture have never returned.

Their flesh and bones have left this world,

And their path is one that you cannot tread.

Do not enter the cave.

Parchment Fragment held in the Utros Hall of Records – Unknown Author or Origin

His only refuge from the darkness was the small slivers of moonlight that shone through the dense forest around him. The beams of silver light pierced the ground like spears, but in every direction was more trees, shrubs and foliage.

Lucio was not bothered by the forest; he had grown up in Tru Brya his whole life. A life of living up in the trees, a life of green. But his mission tonight … now that’s something that bothers me indeed. Lucio stayed crouched down, despite there being no one around that he could see. He had his travellers cloak pulled up over his head; the cloak camouflaged to blend in with the greenery around him. He hoped he was invisible to even the insects.

Lucio was in his mid-thirties, with a shaved head and small build. A nose a bit too big for his face meant he was not a favourite with the ladies back in the Rosefort, but that was the least of his concerns at this moment. Under his cloak was tight leather armour, bound in a way to not create noise while he moved. His hands were bare, with the only weapon being a small dagger on his belt. My hands are my real weapons.

He moved forward slowly while crouched, pushing his way through the trees in front of him. No one should know of my approach … but considering the foe I am chasing: it never hurts to be careful. An owl hooted nearby as Lucio moved silently forward. He had never visited the village, which was his destination tonight, and as such would need to scope out as much as he could upon arrival.

That was when he saw the glow ahead of him.

It was faint due to the thick trees that blocked his vision, but it was an unmistakable orange glow. It was almost as if a small sun was rising but in the north.

Lucio lowered himself down onto his belly and waited, unsure of what lay ahead and sensing a trap. Nothing around him moved in the forest, but the glow continued to appear faintly between the trees ahead.

Waiting a few minutes, Lucio raised himself back up into a crouched position and moved forward. As he moved, the glow ahead of him began to get larger and brighter. He knew he was not far out from his destination and assumed that these two must be linked, but it was too hard to tell what the glow was from here.

Suddenly, someone screamed.

A woman, and then another scream—this time a man. It came from up ahead.

Lucio sensed the worst and began to crouch run through the forest. The branches whipped at his face, but he pushed what he could out of the way. He was making more noise than he meant to, but it was worth it if someone was in trouble.

The glow in front of him got brighter and brighter with more screams joining the nightly sounds of the forest.

As Lucio got closer, he heard the unmistakeable crackling sound of a fire and smelt the smoke in the air. He pushed forward faster until he came up against a thick wall of scrubs and branches. The sounds were quite loud now and the pulsating orange glow streamed through the thick leafy wall in front of him.

Lucio held out his palm to the shrubbery wall in front of him. The branches and leaves around where he placed his hand suddenly exploded outwards, a large hole forming within the wall. Lucio climbed through and now stood out in an open field; the pretence of stealth was lost, but his mind was distracted by the huge raging fire in front of him.

The village was completely engulfed, the fire having overtaken all the buildings and even the dirt ground around them. Spark, Lucio thought as he saw various shapes trying to run through the fire before collapsing to the ground.

As Lucio’s mind raced trying to think of something he could do, there was suddenly a large explosion from the middle of the village. Lucio fell backwards into the leafy wall behind him. As he watched in astonishment, a large flaming dragon shot upwards out of the village. It looked as if the whole head and body of the beast was made of flames while it roared and flew upwards into the night sky.

I’m too late! Lucio felt angry as the beast soared up into the night sky and flew off out of his view. The village continued to burn in front of him, but Lucio waited against the shrub wall until he was sure the beast was gone. If I can’t stop him, maybe I can at least …

There was another scream.

Another woman this time, but as Lucio looked towards the direction of the scream, he saw a small object fly out of the fire. It was to the left from where he was standing, and he saw the object hit the dirt, but then it suddenly got up on its two feet. A child, could it be? Lucio could see from his position that the small child was crying and confused, stumbling out into the forest away from the fire.

Lucio ran across the open space, the burning village to his right. As he came to where the child had landed, he turned back to the village but saw only flames, so he turned to his left and ran into the forest after the child. The small child had only made it a few feet when Lucio caught up.

The child was a small girl, covered in dirt and black soot from the recent events. She looked at up him, tears streaming from her eyes.

Lucio knelt and hugged her. ‘It’s okay, I’ve got you,’ he said in a calming voice, but the child continued to sob. Lucio saw the dirt that had stained the girl’s hair brown. As he hugged her, he reached up and wiped some of it off, revealing the hair’s true colour under the glow of the fire behind him. I need to get her out of here now, before ‘He’ returns.

‘We need to go now, okay, go someplace safe. Apologies, but this may feel a little weird,’ Lucio said to the young girl as he kept her tight in a hug.

Lucio concentrated his Spark and thought about where he wanted to go. Somewhere he had been before. The forest around him swirled as if underwater, and the sky became the ground before becoming the sky again.

Suddenly, Lucio was no longer in the forest but in a dimly lit storage room. Barrels of ale were stacked around him in the cobblestone walled room, with a wooden door off to the side. A lantern hung from the roof, currently lit. The sounds of crackling fire and screams were replaced with silence.

The young girl released herself him his hug and vomited onto the stone floor.

Always happens the first time, Lucio thought as he stood.

The storage room they now stood in was back in the castle in Rosefort. Teleportation, or ‘Spark jumping’ as it was known, had taken Lucio many years to perfect and could only be done if you had been to the place you wished to visit. A skilled Spark wielder could follow someone through their jump, but Lucio felt confident that their foe had departed that village and would not follow. Still, before he let the young girl leave the room, he made them wait five minutes just to see if anyone appeared. Lucio held the child in one arm with his other free and ready to fire if need be.

Once assured they were safe, Lucio convinced the young girl to hold his hand and follow him out of the room. As they exited via the door, they found a set of stairs leading up to a large banquet hall.

A guard dressed in the Robintree colours was patrolling along the middle of the hall when he turned suddenly, pointing his spear at Lucio. ‘Halt, intruder!’ the guard yelled, before Lucio removed his hood revealing himself.

The guard lowered his spear as Lucio said, ‘I need to see her. Now.’

‘She will be aslee—’ the guard began to say.

Lucio held up his hand to stop him. ‘Now,’ Lucio advised.

The guard nodded and ran off down the banquet hall to a pair of wooden doors that led up to the royal chambers.

The hall now empty, Lucio took a seat at a nearby long-table, resting for the first time in hours. The young girl crawled under his seat and sat there for the moment. Lucio could hear her sobbing quietly as the wooden doors burst open at the end of the hall.

Laerdrya Robintree walked down the length of the banquet hall with her handmaid coming up behind her. Laerdrya was dressed in her royal attire, not something one would wear to bed. Lucio assumed she had been up all night awaiting the news.

Lucio stood and bowed as she approached.

‘Lucio, I am so glad you are okay. Pray tell me you have good news,’ Laerdrya said as her eyes surveyed him up and down.

‘Alas, my lady, I bring unfortunate tidings. He escaped before I could reach the village, and worst still … the village has been destroyed. Countless lives lost. I am not sure if he was alerted to my arrival and fled, or if another event had occurred, but unfortunately we were too late,’ Lucio informed her.

Laerdrya’s brow narrowed, clearly deep in thought for the moment, before replying, ‘This is a shame indeed. Any ideas as to where he has gone?’

‘Not presently, but I will make it my top priority for you, my lady. I do, however, have something else that requires discussion.’

Lucio bent down and took the young girl’s hand, gently coaxing her out from under the seat. The young girl stood beside Lucio, tears rolling down her face.

Laerdrya’s face was a mask as she stared at the young girl. Lucio wondered if perhaps Laerdrya didn’t see what he saw.

Laerdrya then turned to her handmaiden and finally said, ‘Mindy, have this young one bathed and given new clothes. I want every comfort of the castle given to her.’

‘Yes, milady,’ the handmaiden Mindy said as she came over and picked up the young girl. ‘Come, little one, let’s get you cleaned up.’

As the handmaiden left the banquet hall carrying the young girl, Lucio waited until he and Laerdrya were alone before saying, ‘Did you notice her hair?’

‘It must be the daughter,’ Laerdrya replied.

‘She had been thrown from the fire, the only survivor I saw. I hope I have not endangered us by bringing her back here with me—‍’

Laerdrya walked forward and placed a hand on his shoulder. ‘You did the right thing. I will take her from here. Luckily, my husband is visiting the Dawlings, which gives me time to come up with a suitable story to explain this.’

Lucio nodded as Laerdrya removed her hand, both of them looking off towards the doors where the handmaiden has exited.

‘Do you think she has the same powers?’ Lucio asked.

Laerdrya didn’t answer, continuing to stare off into the distance.

They stood in silence for a moment, before Laerdrya finally whispered to herself. ‘A glittering silver lost among the woods.’

‘My lady?’ Lucio asked.

Laerdrya turned to him and smiled sadly. ‘Go home and rest for tonight, Lucio. We will need you tomorrow as the hunt continues.’

Lucio nodded and dismissed himself, but as he went to exit the room, he turned back to catch of glimpse of Laerdrya still standing in the banquet hall. She was looking out towards the stained-glass windows, the moonlight pouring in through the ornately carved sigils of House Robintree.

Part 4:

The Forest

18th day, 6th Month, 923TD

CHAPTER 1

As the morning light washed upon the evil camp, King Brynden’s mighty forces descended into battle. Fighting till the last man, their distraction would go down in history as a worthy sacrifice to our glorious God Edos.

For they allowed the heroic King and his band of Robintree archers to sneak that precious sword into Dogma’s camp.

The Book of Edos – Unknown Author – 20TD

(Revised by Father Eyra – 863TD)

Silverwood leant against the railing of the Warbird and looked down upon the sea of green treetops far below them. They were high enough up in the air that clouds partly obscured her view, but it was still recognisable enough.

The massive forest that covered the state of Tru Brya. Home.

The Warbird was travelling at a steady pace to conserve its fuel, yet the wind still blew through Silverwood’s long, silver hair. It trailed out behind her, having grown longer on their journey. She collected it with her hands and unwrapped a section of green and gold twine that had been tied around her wrist, using it to make a quick bow in her hair.

Dharxius had found the twine a few days back down in the cargo hold, threatening to tie Silverwood’s hair into a braid one of these days now. Silverwood had politely refused, but surprisingly her companion Eska had obliged.

Eska approached her now up on the top deck of the Warbird, her long, black hair braided behind her. She waved a greeting at Silverwood as she joined her resting up against the railing.

Eska was the tallest of their group, with pale skin and jet-black hair. She wore her green robes, freshly cleaned after their prior adventures in Newbarrow. Hanging around her neck was a purple crystal, a symbolisation of her chosen God of Spark. In comparison, Silverwood looked like she had just awoken. She wore a loose-fitting shirt (that actually belonged to Cyrus) and some simple travelling pants. The shirt did little to cover the muscles rippling on her strong arms, courtesy of a life fighting in the Robintree guard.

Eska said nothing at first as she leant against the railing next to Silverwood. They had been best friends since Silverwood could remember, and Eska had a habit of knowing exactly how Silverwood was feeling.

‘He’s not going to blame you, Silver,’ Eska finally said, breaking the silence.

‘She came to Newbarrow for me, and yet I return alone. Why wouldn’t he blame me?’ Silverwood replied.

‘Did you create Monnos? No. In fact, we were the closest out of any to stopping it,’ Eska replied.

‘Yet we didn’t,’ Silverwood said quietly.

Silverwood’s adopted mother, Laerdrya, had perished during the Newbarrow incident while her adopted father, Lord Eldrick Robintree, was awaiting her return in the Rosefort.

Eska placed her hand tenderly on Silverwood’s arm and said, ‘We made it out alive. Very few did. Alive to fight another day.’

It had been three weeks since the Newbarrow incident and the creation of the monster that people were now calling Monnos. Though his real name is Marroc. Silverwood and her companions, the Athamages, had been at its creation. Lured to a tournament for glory, they had barely escaped with their lives. Yet their final confrontation with the mysterious man who had been posing as Arteu had given them clues to their next destination.

Silverwood knew that she should count herself lucky. The rest of Druyun was in a full-scale panic. At their last fuelling port, the Warbird had received mountains worth of news. A counterattack had been attempted against Monnos, with mostly Dyeling, Fairmer and Orve soldiers, just outside Driftwood the capital of Owha. It had failed, with many of those same soldiers now joining the risen army that trailed Monnos’ feet.

And then the monster had descended upon Driftwood.

Silverwood had never visited the city herself but had heard the stories: a labyrinth of buildings and castles set atop walkways that covered a large inlet of water from the sea. Almost like home in the Rosefort, except instead of high up in the treetops it was down low on the water. Luckily, House Dyeling had evacuated most of the city before the monster arrived, with nobles and commoners now sharing life in makeshift camps.

House Dawling had refused to lift a finger, their Golden Shields tasked with monitoring the border to Breaye. The Crowsteins had been silent as usual, and Robintree had supplied weapons and needed wood, but no soldiers. House Tramborn had no army to provide, but instead sent the guidance of Edos to Druyun’s bravest soldiers.

A good lot of luck that’s given them so far, Silverwood thought. She had heard other stories too, though it was unsure if they were true. Of local towns and villages under attack by red-robed fanatics. Of commoners turning against anyone who displayed the power of Spark …

Silverwood glanced at her friend Eska. There had been some rough times on the road prior with Eska and Dharxius; the prejudice of House Tramborn seeping through. But they were united for now. Silverwood would hate to see her friend blamed for the terror of Monnos. Yet I continue to blame myself …

‘I know, Esk. I know,’ Silverwood replied to her friend, ‘once we find this Ralathyr, we can uncover the truth of Arteu, I mean the man who was Arteu, and put an end to this—’ Silverwood stood up for the railing and turned to Eska as she said, ‘—for Laerdrya.’

‘For Laerdrya,’ Eska replied. ‘Until then, you have a bigger problem on your hands.’

‘Bigger?’ Silverwood replied inquisitively.

‘Why yes,’ Eska said, a huge smile breaking upon her face as she expertly changed the subject, ‘your new courtship of course.’

Silverwood went red in the face. ‘Eska!’ she cried out, though it was followed by a giggle—the change of subject lifting her mood slightly.

As her relationship with Cyrus of House Orve was no longer a secret among the Warbird, Silverwood and Cyrus had finally been open to the others about their feelings. Silverwood had sensed some initial hesitation from Cyrus’ part, but it seemed to have passed, as he enjoyed the heckles and playful teases as much as anyone. Surprisingly, his brother Morn, normally one who took the playful teasing a bit too far with Cyrus, had been quite silent on the whole matter.

Silverwood, however, as her grief slowly lessoned day by day, had found herself falling more and more for the son of Orve. A few nights ago, Dharxius and Eska had rushed into Silverwood’s room in a panic. They told her that her horse, Woody, had escaped in the cargo bay and was running amok. Dashing quickly downstairs to calm her loyal beast, Silverwood had instead been greeted with a smiling Cyrus, sitting among a gathering of candles and plates of food he had wrangled from the kitchen.

Cyrus’ tunic had been cleaned and adorned with a red rose, apparently borrowed from Skylord Jesse’s private collection. Despite the giggles from Dharxius and Eska behind her as she had entered, Silverwood had found the sight quite romantic. And so, they had enjoyed what was officially their first romantic outing, which —much like most of their engagements as of late—ended together in her chambers.

Cyrus had even begun referring to Silverwood by a new nickname, though it was used sparingly for their more intimate moments. While he said it was due to the shining silver of her hair, she sensed it may also be intertwined with his House sigil being a sun. Nevertheless, she absolutely adored it when he called her ‘my moonlight’.

Silverwood had not sent word yet to Lord Eldrick of the courtship. She assumed he would be happy, as he had always wanted a son and instead gotten an adopted daughter. Her relationship with Lord Eldrick was strained to say the least, and only truly held together by Laerdrya’s calming presence. But with mother now gone …

‘We will need to find you a loving partner next, Esk,’ Silverwood shot back, teasing her friend.

Eska laughed before going silent for the moment.

Silverwood worried she had accidentally offended her companion when Eska finally replied with a smile, ‘I’m quite content with myself and my Spark. Just as Morn is with his Bloodhammer.’

Silverwood laughed in response to the quip about Morn, though she had noticed Eska staring quite frequently at another of their companions during the journey on the Warbird. Silverwood pondered whether to bring it up to tease her friend further when they were suddenly interrupted by Dharxius. She bounded across the top deck towards them, waving her hands.

‘Dharx, everything okay?’ Eska asked politely.

Dharxius stopped short of reaching them, out of breath from her quick dash. Dharxius Tramborn was short and petite, with her brown hair cut short just below the ears. She had a heart-shaped face that was soothing when she smiled, though as of late her brow was constantly furrowed as if she was in deep thought. She was currently dressed in her travelling leather, and Silverwood noticed that Dharxius clutched her Book of Edos in her hand as she stood before them. Perhaps she was praying when whatever occurred upset her so.

‘It’s Cyrus. I heard him shouting in his sleep. I tried to wake him but had no luck, and I can’t locate Morn. I think it’s another …’ Dharxius paused for a moment, before continuing, ‘Spark dream.’

Dharxius was a devout follower of Edos, as was all of House Tramborn. Despite her journey with their group, and especially Eska, Dharxius still at times had trouble shaking off the Spark hatred that her family promoted. Dharxius assured them that it was all behind her, but Silverwood noticed her struggle sometimes when it came to talking about Spark. Silverwood imagined it was especially harder for Eska, as her whole life was intertwined with the competing faith.

‘Let us all go check on him,’ Eska replied calmly to Dharxius.

Dharxius looked up at Eska and nodded, as Silverwood detected the slight hint of a smile. All three of the girls headed off quickly to the stairs leading to the lower decks of the Warbird.

Cyrus ran. The stone beneath his feet was cold, his shoes long lost somewhere behind but he had no time to turn back; the darkness would not stop creeping forward, would not stop chasing him.

Cyrus was currently dressed in noble attire that befit the son of House Orve, except for his lack of shoes, of course. His brown doublet was stitched with golden silk and had the intricate House Orve sigil sewn onto the breast pocket. The buttons were rubies, and underneath, he wore a yellow satin shirt. Cyrus’ brown hair had grown slightly during their travels, but it kept its waving boyish charm. A slight stubble stained his chin, though Silverwood said she liked it upon his face. Normally, he would be holding his lute comfortably within his hands, but as of now, it was nowhere to be seen.

All that surrounded him was the stone walls of the tight corridor, with darkness behind him closing in. At every look back, the void of nothingness approached closer. The corridor was stone on all walls, floor and ceiling—smooth to the touch and icy cold. Ahead, the corridor turned to the left.

Cyrus took the turn with ease and kept running, only to find another left turn. Doubling back? But it was go forward or be consumed, so Cyrus continued left and into the next corridor, only to be greeted again with another left turn. I’m running around in circles here.

Out of frustration, Cyrus stopped in his tracks and turned to the darkness behind him. It crept like a fog does across a swamp, moving its way up the walls and towards him with almost tentacle-like plumes of smoke. Cyrus unsheathed his weapon, the golden longsword emblazoned with the House Orve sunburst sigil on its hilt, and he held it in defiance against the darkness.

‘Enough!’ he screamed at the corridor, his voice echoing down through the void. Enough! Enough! Enough!

The darkness crept closer towards him, but Cyrus stood his ground. ‘You won’t kill me!’ Kill me, kill me, kill me.

The darkness rushed forward and engulfed the walls around Cyrus. The world around him went black, though he could still see his own body. Suddenly, he felt the coldness of the floor disappear, but he didn’t fall. It was like he was floating among a sea of black water.

Two figures materialised ahead in the darkness. They floated a distance away from him, but Cyrus could easily make them out; he knew them well.

‘Mother! Father? How—’ Cyrus began to say to his parents.

Cyrus’ father, Lord Aesop Orve, lifted his finger to his lips to silence his son. Cyrus saw a deep, red gash that ran across his father’s throat. Floating at his side, Lady Harriet Orve’s face was caked with tears among the deep-blue bruised skin.

‘Son …’ Lady Harriet whispered, as the tears continued to fall.

Cyrus felt his own tears run down his cheek as he cried out, ‘I’m sorry!’ I’m sorry but I couldn’t go through with it. I love her.

Lord Aesop continued to hold his finger to his lips, while Lady Harriet continued to cry. ‘Son …’ she repeated, again in a sad whisper.

There was a sudden rush of air around them all.

Cyrus felt the wind rush by him as he saw his parents suddenly get sucked backwards. They flew farther and farther away until they were but specks in the black void.

Cyrus screamed after them. He screamed and screamed into the nothingness around him. He tried to move forward, but it was as if he was locked in place. His limbs wouldn’t move, and before long, he felt his mouth unable to move either. It was then that the large black metal fingers reached around from behind him, closing around his mouth and yanking him backwards as—

‘CYRUS!’ Silverwood yelled as she shook him roughly.

Cyrus awoke from the nightmare to find Silverwood on top of him in bed, shaking him roughly. Eska and Dharxius stood next to the bed looking concerned. Silverwood continued to shake him as Cyrus groggily reached up and disengaged her.

‘I’m awake, I’m awake!’ he said sheepishly before he added, ‘you know, Silver, I don’t mind you on top of me, but not when we have company in the room.’

Silverwood gasped and slapped Cyrus hard, though he noticed the smile that quickly stretched upon her face.

Eska and Dharxius giggled as Cyrus recovered from the slap.

‘My sincere gratitude; that slap helped wake me up properly,’ Cyrus replied with a smirk.

‘We were worried. You were screaming in your sleep,’ Silverwood said as she got off the bed and stood next to Eska.

Cyrus sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed, wiping the tiredness from his eyes. ‘My dreams have just felt so real as of late.’

‘Spark dreams,’ Eska replied. ‘You’re not alone, Cyrus. When I first started learning the ways of Spark, my dreams were vivid and intense. Now I’ve learnt to control them better. Though if I may ask, were you dreaming of things to come?’

‘Things to come, you mean like the future?’ Cyrus shook his head. ‘No, my dreams felt much more abstract, why?’

Eska continued, ‘Master Celinst told me that many Spark wielders experience prophetic dreams, though it takes a great mastery to tell the truth from the falsehoods. I wonder myself if some of mine speak of things to come.’

‘I’ll keep that in mind, Esk,’ Cyrus said thankfully as he stood up out of bed. ‘Are we still two days out from the Rosefort?’

‘According to Varario, yes,’ Dharxius replied.

Varario, a companion that the Athamages had picked up on the road to Newbarrow, had shown quite a lot of skill in assisting on deck with the Warbird and had even begun learning from Skylord Jesse himself on how to pilot. He had informed the group prior in the week that he intended to stay on the ship permanently after they reached the Rosefort, so that his wages could go to support his mother in Utros.

It was also common knowledge on the ship, however, for his affection of Dharxius. After the events of Newbarrow, they spent intimate time together. Dharxius had assured Varario (and the Athamages) that it was not a courtship but more a ‘heat of the moment’ affair.

Cyrus meanwhile sensed that Varario wished it could have become much more. It was obvious that he had taken to spending whatever free time he had with Dharxius.

‘Well now that you’re awake, Cyrus, I believe we had a sparring session planned,’ Silverwood said with glee.

Cyrus knew that she had been looking forward to this. And even he wished to work on his skills in combat, after what they had recently gone through and not knowing what lay ahead. He had first tried to duel with Morn, but his brother … I still have bruises from that supposed ‘friendly’ session.

‘Who am I to keep a Robintree waiting,’ Cyrus said, walking closer to Silverwood.

Eska and Dharxius then left the room; Silverwood stayed back.

Cyrus brushed away a lock of her hair as they embraced, before he said, ‘I’m okay, my moonlight. Just a terrible dream.’

‘I thought you only dreamed of me?’ Silverwood teased him.

Cyrus laughed. ‘If that was true, I may never wake up.’

After some more playful kissing, Silverwood left the room, and Cyrus got himself properly dressed in his Orve tunic and leathers. He was staying in the main cabin that he shared with Silverwood. It was originally for Laerdrya Robintree, but after her passing, it had become Silverwood’s.

Cyrus saw his lute propped up on a chair against the wall. He had hoped to finish his latest song before they reached the Rosefort. While it wasn’t their top priority, Cyrus felt the need to perform. To do what he loved. He had put on regular shows for the Warbird crew but was quickly running out of new songs for the same audience.

He made his way out of the cabin and towards the stairs leading to the cargo hold. His cabin was at the end of a long hallway lined with cabin doors, and as he was almost out of the hallway, one of the doors quickly swung open to reveal a dishevelled-looking Morn Orve.

Cyrus’ brother Morn was as opposite to him in appearance as one could get. Shorter and with a shaved head, Morn had a body packed full of muscles. He kept his chin shaved short so as his enemies had nothing to ‘hold onto’. Despite currently shirtless, he had his prize possession slung across his back: his large blood-red painted maul called Bloodhammer.

‘Brother,’ Cyrus said.

Morn turned to Cyrus’ sudden arrival and said, ‘Ahh, ready to get your ass handed to you by Silver, I see?’

‘Who knows, perhaps I’ll win,’ Cyrus said confidently.

Morn only laughed as he replied, ‘Of course, and I’m secretly the Golden Arrow too.’

Now it was Cyrus’ turn to laugh. The Golden Arrow was an old children’s tale; of a masked figure who swooped in to save defenceless villagers and protect the innocent with their golden bow, without need of payment. For hundreds of years, there had been apparent ‘sightings’ of the masked hero but it was nothing more than folklore – a great story for children to emulate. Cyrus had to admit many a times as a child, he had dressed up in his father’s cloak and chased Morn around the Orve castle as the Golden Arrow.

As the brothers laughed, a young girl squeezed herself out from the room in which Morn had come out of. She had a bedsheet to cover herself and ran off past Cyrus down to another cabin. Cyrus