Towards the Princess

Fawks was utterly exhausted from flying the entire distance – but he had to! For everyone. For her.

Ahead, at the end of the valley between the mountains, Orrendale rose before him.
It wasn’t far now. He poured out the last of his strength, and in a short while reached the walls. He began shouting as he approached:
“Shade army! A shade army is marching this way!”

His cries sowed alarm among the guards. Then, swooping over the gate, he landed awkwardly in the streets of the city.
Behind him, the gate-bell tolled loud and grim, followed by the shouts of men calling orders.

“There… I did what I had to…” he exhaled, utterly spent.
Not far above, on the next street, he spotted a fountain. Staggering toward it, he cupped water in his hands and drank greedily.

By the time he had finished, two city guards had reached him.
“What army was that? Tell us!” one demanded.
“How many were there? Was it a great host?” the other pressed, almost pleading.

“They were…” Fawks still struggled to catch his breath.

“Here, take this,” one guard pushed a small amber dral into his mouth.

“Thank you…” It was the smallest, weakest kind of dral –hardly refreshing at all– but on that occasion, even that was much needed. He felt his spirit flicker back to life, color returning faintly to his cheeks.

“They were far too many!” he told them without flinching at the terror in their eyes. “They had warriors and beasts, marching in order, not scattered. And worse – they had a great black dragon, ridden by one of them.”

“The First Shade,” came a voice. Their captain had appeared behind them, the same man Fawks had seen welcoming the Watcher to the city.
“Where did you see them?”

“They appeared on the far side of the valley this morning.”

“Then they’ll be here by dawn!” the captain exclaimed, turning sharply to his men. With a quick gesture he strode back toward the gate. “We must see to the defenses!”

Fawks could have told them more of what he’d witnessed, but they seemed uninterested. So he sat a little longer, resting, watching the city stir in turmoil.

The tolling bell had startled the people. Trumpets sounded from other quarters in response. Some ran, some argued in alarm, others stood frozen, gazing toward the walls –though they could not see them from here– as if an answer might come from that direction.

The suns had sunk low, soon to disappear entirely. Only the two dim ones would remain, glowing like twin moons, lighting the Common Ground even at night. The faint light would cast a pale silver over stone walls and rooftops, making every shadow seem deeper, every corner uncertain.

At last, Fawks’s thoughts drifted back to the princess, the vision of her face rising before him again. He had to search for her. But where? The city was vast! He struggled to think of a way.

And then he realized – every time he thought of her, she had found him.

Slowly, he soared upward again. Rising above the rooftops, he whispered inwardly, “Selora?”

Almost at once came the reply: “You came for me!” The sweet, feminine voice of the princess he had grown fond of echoed in his heart.

“Where are you?” Fawks pressed, his heartbeat quickening.

“I’m in the Cliffspire,” she whispered.

“Where is that?”
Fawks glanced over the city. There were spires, yes, but none stood out to him.

Silence. The comforting presence of her voice vanished as if a string had been cut.

He descended and began asking passersby. But most hurried past without answering, some vanishing into alleys, others slipping quickly inside their homes –warm lamplight spilling from windows– and locking the doors behind them as if to shut the danger out.

At last, an old woman paused long enough to answer:
“If you climb the hill –the one with the council hall on top– and descend again behind the city, you’ll see a great cliff rising above the city, between the mountains. It stands apart. Upon its cliff-face is a tower, but only the front half is built. The other half is the rock itself. That’s the Cliffspire you’re looking for.”

“Ah! Thank you!” he said joyfully, and hurried off.

Wandering guards were lighting torches and lanterns –oil, or something else– around the upper parts of the city as he made his way uphill.

At the crest he paused for breath. Night had truly fallen. And there it was – the Cliffspire, rising at the rear of the city, lower than his current perch but not so low as the gate he had passed. Its dark silhouette clung to the cliff, half stone, half rock, a sentinel watching the coming night.

♦♦♦

As night fell, Cecile reached the now-closed gate. Her painted stag looked ready to collapse at any moment – and she herself was worn out from the rough journey.

The gate guards opened just a narrow slit for her to slip through.
“Normally, we’d leave you outside at this hour. But with an attack coming, you’d be dead by morning.”

“Ah! Then Fawks warned you?”

“The little boy? Yes.”

“And where is he now?” she asked, glancing around.

“We don’t know – we last saw him at the spring up that road, not far.”

“But we agreed he’d wait for me at the gate…” she muttered under her breath.

“Thank you,” she said, giving them a nod before riding off. She clung tightly to the stag’s antlers – the only way she hadn’t fallen through the whole trip.

Slowly, she climbed the narrow streets until she recognized the spring the guards had mentioned. She looked around. No sign of Fawks.

She knelt to drink deeply, then let her painted stag lower its head to the water. Strangely, the longer it lingered, the more solid it seemed to grow – less like paint, more like real flesh. Cecile frowned, glancing around. Night had fully set in. The hush of the city felt heavier here, broken only by the trickle of the spring.

“You seem lost,” said an elderly man approaching with a bucket. He bent to fill it.

“I’m looking for someone,” she answered, a touch curt, though not impolite.

“Someone?”

“A boy. Yay high,” she lifted her hand under her armpit. “He has a fox tail, usually tied around his waist like a belt.”

The man’s eyes lit up at the detail. “I saw him! Just a few streets up. An old lady was giving him directions to the Cliffspire.”