When Darkness Falls

Chapter 9: ATTACKS IN THE NIGHT

Chapter 9: ATTACKS IN THE NIGHT
“Saubi dear?  I need you to go to your father’s workshop and tell him that dinner’s ready.”
“Yes Mama.”  The little girl got up from the floor where she had been playing with her new kitten and left the house slipping on her sandals that were outside the door.  Walking on a well worn path down to her father’s shed, Saubi hummed a familiar tune, every once and a while stopping to listen for the night owls that were unusually quiet tonight. In fact there were no sounds coming from the forest ahead of her. Hmm.  I’ll have to remember to mention that to daddy.
  Her long blonde hair rippled in the moonlight in a warm lazy breeze.  As she topped the hill she saw her father’s small shed and then she stopped.  It was completely dark, not a hint of light shone from the weather worn shack. 
“Daddy”, she called walking once more.  “Daddy?  Are you there?”  No sound emitted from the shed as she approached.  No clinging of a hammer or squealing of the saw.  Not even the creaking of the old wood floors punctured the still night air.  Saubi carefully pushed open the door.  “Daddy?”

Back at a house somewhere in the lonely hills of Alothmera, a mother wept over the two lifeless forms of father and daughter.
                                                     
Kyron leaned his head back against the cold walls of his cell waiting for the jangle of keys that would signify the time of his hearing, which was today.  He had been informed of the trial the day before yesterday, two days after his visit from Arya.  He had been told that he would be taken first to the courtyard to be judged by the Lords.  If they decided his case was to important or difficult, to put it in blunter terms, he would proceed into the Judgment Hall where the elders would try to decipher his case and if they had the same difficulties as the Lords, he would move onto his last possible judgment faze in the throne room, where, obviously, the king would place final judgment on him.
For reasons unknown to him, Kyron was oddly unafraid.  He knew the stakes were high.  If they decided he was a threat, he could be sentenced to death and if not they would most likely release him. The only reason he could think of was that the Almighty One was giving him peace so that he would not panic and say something stupid.  He still didn’t know what he would say when they asked who he was.  He thought of making up a name but decided against it.  He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply.
“Well Lord, I’m stuck on this one.  I really don’t know what you’re doing but I trust you.  My life is in your hands.  Whatever the outcome is, at least I know that I have not let them down.  I knew the cost that I might have to pay by volunteering for this mission.”  Finally he heard someone approaching the door.  “Well here it goes.  Thanks for everything. Amen.”
Two elven guards entered the room and his chains were quickly replaced with ones he could walk in.  Getting up was somewhat painful.  The day he had been captured, no one had asked if he was injured so his ribs were still as broken as ever (if he had attempted to heal them on his own they would have most certainly sensed the power).  Seeing as Kyron had been put in a tower, it took them quite a while to reach the courtyard.  Once they did, Kyron was led to a spot in front of a fountain.  Looking around he saw what must have been half the city grouped around him.  They were anywhere from behind the line of guards that circled him, to sitting in trees and on rooftops. Apparently events like this don’t happen to often, he thought with a grim smile.
Looking once again at the fountain, Kyron suddenly realized how very much he wanted, not to mention needed, a bath. Oh well, that will have to wait. The doors directly in front of him opened and, what had to be the Lords, filed out and imperially walked around the fountain and lined up.  If Kyron hadn’t been the one on trial he would have thought this was a ceremonial gathering.  The crowd behind him became instantly quiet.
The Lord in the middle stepped forward unrolling a scroll.  “You are here as a captive in the city of Bashinma as a suspected spy of the enemy.  You entered the land unpermitted and have failed to provide your captures with a name or identity.  Is this correct?”  All eyes turned toward Kyron.
“Yes.”
“And you knowingly entered the battle of the elves and caused chain events that could have led to Princess Arya Ciptian's capture, did you not?” Kyron was really starting to not like this man.
“Yes.”
“And did you or did you not have a part in the starting of the battle?”  Kyron sighed.
“I did.” 
Whispers and mutters swept through the onlookers.  The Lord addressed the crowd.  “May you all bear witness to these confessions on this 27th day of September.”  He stepped back in line and put away the scroll in the folds of his robe.
One of the Lords spoke, this time remaining in line.  “Once more young man, we give you the chance to provide us your name freely.  If you choose not to, it will be taken by force.”  And Kyron knew they could do it too but he wasn’t going down without a fight.
“Then I guess you will just have to force it out of me.”  Once again, there were soft murmurs from the crowd.  The Lord looked very displeased.
“Very well.”
Another Lord spoke this time.  “What brought you here to Bashinma, for surely you are not here entirely by accident?”  Kyron fidgeted under the Lords’ hard gazes.
“I already explained to the captain tha-”
“But we found that much of your story was a lie”, said one of the Lords cutting him off.
“But that’s how I really got here”, he yelled incredulously.  “I was captured by zorg.  I even have the broken bones to prove it”, he said angrily as one of the questioners tried to interrupt him.  “Then I escaped and jumped into the river, seeing as I had nowhere else to go, and found myself in this big mess.”  Just as he finished saying this, he realized that if they really looked for the broken ribs, he was doomed.  The scar across his chest would give him away instantly.  But, to his great relief, they did not ask for proof.
“Even if this is true, what were you doing so close to the borders of Bashinma?  We are aware that the zorg encampment is at the base of our cliff.”
Kyron swallowed hard. Now what? “I was, uh, I was…” Dear Lord please help me!
“You were?”
“Exploring”, he replied in a voice that was not entirely his own.
“Exploring?”
“Yes, exploring.  You know, uh, to make maps and stuff.”  So much for not being nervous.
“Really”, he said looking at the other Lords.
“Look”, Kyron burst out.  “You can’t really think that Rashaka would take on a man as a spy!  I mean really!”  But by the looks on their faces, Kyron knew he had gone to far…or knew too much?
“This trial will now be moved into the throne room.”
“Hey wait!,” Kyron yelled desperately trying to jerk his arms free of the guards that now held them firmly.  “I’m supposed to go to the Judgment Hall next!  Wait!  Let go of me!  You can’t do this!”  One hard elbow on the head and a punch in the stomach later, he was walking silently with his guards down the Hall of the Kings that led to the throne room.  It was all he could do to not use the words to reduce the pain in his now throbbing ribs.
O.K. God, I really don’t see how this is helping me.  If I didn’t know better I’d think you wanted me to tell them who I am.  I just can’t do that.  It would be a disaster. The guards came to a stop and the magnificent golden doors started to open.  They all filed into the room and walked between the pillars on a scarlet rug toward the throne.
A servant next to the king announced their arrival.  “Now enters the prisoner accompanied by the south tower guards.”  Once they all reached the end of the rug they all knelt down roughly yanking Kyron with them.  He noticed that there was a knew king since he was last here.
“You may rise”, said the king.  “Why is it the prisoner has been taken directly to me before going to the Judgment Hall?”
“Exactly what I’d like to know”, muttered Kyron.  He received a slap on the back of the head.
One of the higher-ranking officers stepped forward.  “Your highness, we believe that this man may have some information that might prove useful to you.  He spoke of a Rashaka.”  The king’s eyes grew wide.
“Leave the prisoner here and depart from the room.”
“But your highness-”
“Leave now!  I will be fine.  If your presence is needed I will send for you.”  The officer made a hesitant bow and left the room with the others.
Once the door had shut the king looked to Kyron.  “What is your name boy?”  He looked into his eyes with such piercing force that Kyron felt he could not look away.  Something inside of him told him that it was O.K. to tell this man what he wanted.
“Kyron.”
“Kyron”, the man looked thoughtful.  “It is northern?”
“Uh, yes,” he said thinking of his father’s lineage.  The king didn’t seem too bad so far.
“Tell me Kyron, what is this I hear about Rashaka, for he was disposed of many years ago.”  That was no new news to Kyron.
“He is the one dispatching the zorg patrols.  He is also commanding Raok and whatever creatures were chasing us through the woods.”
“Raok?  There haven’t been Raok around for ages.  Infact, they were imprisoned with Rashaka himself.  How did they escape?”  He seemed to be talking more to himself now than to Kyron.  For a few moments he continued to mumble to himself and then his eyes snapped back up to Kyron’s. 
“Well, I have decided you are not a spy, or if you are, you are a traitor.”  Kyron swallowed hard.  “So what business did you have here at the borders of Bashinma?”  This was it.  The question he had been waiting for.
“I’m afraid, your highness, that I cannot convey you this knowledge.”
“Alas, I was afraid you’d say that.”  All at once white-hot daggers plunged into Kyron’s brain.  He screamed out in agony and fell to the ground.  He felt some force probing his mind searching for the answers it wanted.
“No!  You-cannot-no!”  He gripped his head in his hands as if to make it stop. Get out!  Get out of my mind!  Ahhhh!  Has nuk te…has nuk te calabania!  The world went black and a shout sounded from somewhere in the distance.
                                                     
Maluadry walked along the crowded streets casually tilting her hat so that it would hide more of her face.  She hated walking through the towns.  She hated everything about them.  The smell, the traffic, the cheap merchandise, even the people.  More than once a horse and cart had rolled by splashing her with muck.  She wrinkled her nose as she passed a fresh pile of horse droppings.
  Turning her thoughts back to her task at hand she wound her way through the crowded streets towards the Oakland Inn.  She paused outside the door and listened.  It was near empty. Good, that will make my job easier. She was dressed as a messenger boy with her hair tightly bundled up in her hat.  If she were caught, she would be sentenced to hang for impersonating a male.
Opening the door she walked over to the darkest corner of the room.  A few heads glanced her way but turned back to their conversations just as quickly. Maluadry, or Blade {font} as she was called here, quickly looked around the room and spotted her target: two disguised elves, both looking like common travelers.  Sitting forward she strained to hear what they were saying.
“-the king.  He’s been missing for a week now and she still doesn’t know about it.”
“We can tell her when we go to Bashinma.”
“That’s just it, we can’t.  The place is surrounded by zorg.  We would never get through.”
“But we can’t just go back…there must be some way to communicate with her.  What about the birds?”
“We’ve tried that.  They didn’t make it.”  Someone sighed.
“Do you think she will try to come back before we get there, even with the zorg?”
“I don’t know.  That Arya is pretty stubborn.  She could do anything.  It’s a miracle she made it at all.  She doesn’t even know we’re coming.”
“We’ve got to leave by tomorrow night.  I guess we’ll have to try the river.”
“Well then I hope we’ve got cloud cover.”
Maluadry silently got up and left the building.
                                                     
The creature silently wound its way through the dark trees watching, waiting.  An old shepherd walked up the moonlit road leading his flock to the town of Tibro.  With him was a young boy holding a lantern.
The old man stopped putting a hand on the boy’s chest so he would do like wise.  “Nitzchek, do you see anything?”
Nitzchek looked around.  “No.  Why?”
“The sheep are restless and I sense a presence nearby.”  Looking back the boy saw the sheep huddled together and they were making much more noise than usual.  In the corner of his eye he saw a dark shadow dodge between the trees.  The sheep cried, eyes rolling in terror.
“Sir, I saw something I the trees beside us.  What do you think it is?”
“I don’t know.”  The old man was silent for a moment.  Suddenly he whipped around to face the boy.  “Nitzchek, listen to me!” the old man hissed.  “You must run to the village and stay off the path.  What ever you do, do not go onto the path!”
“But sir!  What is going-”
“No time to explain!  Go to the Oakland Inn.  Ask for the two travelers from Kzitka and tell them Zambin sent you.  Tell them Raok!  Now run, don’t wait for me, just run!”  The boy backed away fearfully and ran into the woods opposite of where he had saw the shadow.  A moment later the screaming of sheep and of the one person he loved filled his ears…and he kept running.
                                                     
King Ciptian looked around once he hoisted himself through the trap door.  He appeared to be in the armory.  He quickly went around the room and grabbed a sword, dagger, rope, and a slingshot in place of a bow.  Ciptian opened the door a crack and peered out into the hallway. It looks clear.   He opened the door a bit more and edged out looking out the window.  He was several stories up and the top of the outer wall was in view. Excellent.
Softly jogging down the hallway he stopped at the occasional open door to look for a way out.  Finally, on the last door to the left, he spotted a balcony.  He quietly tiptoed into the room toward the balcony.  He stopped dead.  In front of Ciptian with her back to him was a woman with long black hair and butter cream skin.  He tried to back away but found that he couldn’t move a muscle.
“King Ciptian, what a pleasure to meet you.”  The young woman turned around to reveal a startlingly beautiful face but he was not deceived.  Her sharp red eyes gave her away for what she really was.
“A Phonodrag?”
She smiled sweetly.  “Yes, I am a phonodrag.  One of many at this castle actually.  My name is Maluadry.”  She held out her hand.  When he did not return the gesture he eyes seemed to flash and he suddenly found his hand was moving toward hers though he was not controlling it.  When they met his hand tingled with a warm prickling.  “There, not so bad was it?”
“What do you want”, he asked suspiciously.
“I want to help you escape.”
“Why?”
She pretended to look hurt.  “Why Ciptian, you don’t trust me?”  She walked to the balcony and his legs automatically carried him after her.  She stopped at the railing and he a few feet back.  “Come closer.”  He found that he now had complete control of himself again and took a few tentative steps forward until he was looking over the edge of the balcony.
Before him lay the deadly desert of Vesjude going as far as the eye could see.  “As you can see, you would never make it back alive.  At least not without aid.”  She looked at the king with a serious face.  “I have arranged a way for you to leave this city tonight.  You will depart in a wagon with some friends of mine.  They will take you as far as the Winding River.  From there you will board a raft that will take you to the Ewno.  They will give you food and water.  From there you are on your own.  Meet them at the alley behind the old widow’s shop.  Tell them ‘Kensington’.”
King Ciptian looked at her shocked.  “Why are you doing this?”
“Oh, I have my reasons.  Will you accept?”  He studied her for a moment and then held out his hand.
“I will.”
                                                     

Arya lay on her soft feather mattress unable to sleep that night after her meeting with Kyron. The moon’s groping rays shone through the window onto the floor beside the bed so directly on her hiding spot that it could hardly be coincidence.  Bending down she pried up the loose floorboard moving aside the straw underneath it and gently lifted out a wooden box.  Quietly opening the lid she gazed at her prize possession on its velvet interior: a dragon egg. As of yet, Arya had told no one about this extraordinary discovery.  Earlier that morning she had arranged for someone to take her to the library the next day so she could privately research on her find.  Thus far she had seen no sign of life from the little dragonling but knew all the same that it was still alive and well from the warmth emitting from it.
Looking to the stars, Arya curled the egg up in her arms laying back under the bed and feeling the comfortable tingling sensation coursing through her body.  Softly singing a sweet melody from childhood, she went on like this finally falling asleep.
                                                     
The door creaked open and then quietly shut.  The one who entered looked somewhat hesitantly at the scene before them.  Rashaka stood looking at the sunset on his balcony with a slight tenseness about him.
“Ah.  Just the person I wanted to see.”  Turning around he looked to the red phonodrag standing before him.  “So”, he said conversationally.  “I hear that King Ciptian is missing, and has been for some time.  Had you heard?”  Though his face looked calm, his eyes looked murderous.
If looks could kill, thought the young phonodrag.  The creature shifted uneasily but looked her master straight in the eye; smoke escaping through its nostrils.  “I had, er, heard rumors.” 
“Rumors?  Tell me, my dear, are you interested in keeping your job?”
“Yes”, she said grudgingly.
“Then I suggest that you try working a little bit harder.”  His eyes flashed and pictures flooded her mind against her will of the horrible scene of Krothganbier.  “Do you understand?”
Looking at him steadily with big red and black cat like eyes she nodded.
“Good, now make yourself more presentable and resume your tasks.”
Glowering at him, she transformed back into a young lady and, still glowering, left the room.
“Dashiki, I want you to follow her, see what she’s up to.  Disguise as your choice but nothing that has to do with the palace.  That would give you away.”
Out of the shadows walked a somewhat dirty golden retriever happily wagging its tail.
“Good one”, Rashaka smirked.  The dog happily pranced to the door and opened it by standing on its hind legs.  Looking once more at its master, Dashiki left.
                                                     
The air was cold as a soft breeze stole across his exposed face.  A strand of hair fluttered against the end of his nose.  Slowly blinking, Kyron opened his eyes to find himself on a straw pallet back in his cell in the tower.  Well, he thought, at least I’m not chained to the wall this time.  Carefully sitting up, Kyron looked around the small room hopefully and his eyes fell upon a tray at the door.  He retrieved the food and plunked back down on the pallet.  His meal consisted of a cup of water, half a loaf of bread, and a hunk of cheese.  All in all I didn’t fare out to bad.  Giving thanks over his food, Kyron ate with excruciating slowness savoring each and every bite until there were only crumbs left.
Stomach full, it had gotten smaller in the past few weeks, Kyron laid back with a sigh and drifted off into a light sleep. 
                                                     
Terror…pain…Screaming emanating from another room…Thud.  The door bursts open revealing a tall, brown-haired man sporting a maniacal, twisted, grin, eyes burning with a fearsome lust for blood, a gore-spattered word in hand.  He looked down at a young child, face slacking for a moment, and then, with fire in his eyes, stepped toward the cowering child and thrust it into his gut with an evil grin…
Kyron bolted upright gasping for air.  His hand went instinctively to his stomach.  He sighed with relief.  Leaning back, Kyron wiped the beaded sweat off of his forehead with a groan.
It was only a dream…he’s not here and I will never see him again.  The screams of terror once again filled his ears.
“Ugggh!”  He clamped his hands firmly over his ears, willing it to stop but it just got worse. 
“-stop!  Please!  You don’t know what you’re doing!  Leave him be!  Please!  You’re drunk! Pl-”
“Get out of the way woman!”
“Nooo-”. 
                                                     
Nitzchek walked through the dark streets of Tibro looking for the Oakland Inn.  He felt if he didn’t get something to eat soon he would collapse where he stood.  He decided he would ask one more person.
“Excuse me sir?”  He was addressing a merchant packing up the last of his merchandise.
“Sorry ‘m boy.  I’ve just closed up.”
“But sir, I wanted to know if you knew where the Oakland Inn is.  I’ve been looking all-”
“Don’t know what business you’d have ther’ but that be none of my know’n is it?”
“Well I suppose n-”
“If ya keep goin’ straight down this here street, ya’ll come to a fork in the road.  Take the left one. Once ya get to the big-gated house take a right.  Ya’ll see it all lit up like.”
“Thank you sir!”
“Oh, and between you and me boy, I’d make your business nice and snappy like, ya hear?  Ther’s been strange folk around lately.”  With that, the man gave Nitzchek a wink and strolled down the street pushing his cart while whistling “Let’s Go to Merry Hall”.
He watched the strange man for a moment then hurried on, repeating the directions the merchant had given over in his head.
                                                     
The king wound his way through the streets of Tibro pulling his cloak up tight.  Getting out of the castle after he had talked to Maluadry had been easy, almost to easy.  It seemed that every time he had been close to running into guards, they were mysteriously called away to another part of the castle or just seemed to disappear entirely.
When King Ciptian reached the widow’s shop, he looked around carefully.  The only movement on the street was a small golden dog rummaging through the trash piles. He quietly, cautiously proceeded to walk down the alley. 
“Centuraunt delcarpaznic”, Ciptian whispered.  The light reached a few feet in front of him but he saw nothing.  Treading softly, the king slowly went further into the alley of shadows.  He soon reached a dead end and looked around suspiciously. 
Where is everyone?  Is it an ambush?  Should I leave or wait?  Should I say the code word? After a few moments of thought, he decided to speak.
“Kensington?”  A few seconds past a nothing happened.  He strained his keen ears listening for the faintest of sounds…nothing.  King Ciptian was just about to call out again when dark, cloaked figures stepped into his circle of light.  He was surrounded.
                                                     
Wimble took a deep breath of the clear, crisp morning air.  It was starting to get a little chilly in the mornings.  Fall was passing fast and winter would soon be upon them.  Wimble wondered where he would be spending his winter season.  Would he still be here in Bashinma?  Or possibly back at home in the familiarity of his forest?  Or maybe he’d even be somewhere else new.  Perhaps on the road traveling to a new adventure.
Wimble sighed and stepped away from the window. He wasn’t sure he liked adventures anymore.  All that had happened in the last few weeks seemed like a blur…a horrible monstrous blur. 
None of this would have happened if it weren’t for me.  Arya would have gotten here safely with the help of Kyron.  They would be headed back to their homes, probably already there, settling in for the cold season lying at peace in their warm beds without a worry in the world. 
Head falling to his chest, Wimble walked to the kitchen to ask the cook for some bread or berries because the palace had not yet had breakfast.  He’d gotten to know the cook fairly well over the past few days.  It was a routine now to wake up and go to the kitchen early.  He’d spend the rest of the day in the palace gardens or conversing with Ma, who was doing a lot better, in the sickbay.  He’d been to the library a few times (he couldn’t really read, the grandness of it made up for that) and around midday after lunch, Wimble would go to the village square and play a curious game with the children that involved moving a ball around through the air, on the ground, off the head, knee, elbow, and many other inventive ways while the other children tried to get the ball from you.  He had things to do and places to go but, though charming the city was, the longer he stayed here, the more Wimble realized that he wanted to go home.
The voice of Lily, the cook, broke him out of his reverie.  “You look troubled today dear. What’s wrong?”
“Oh, it’s nothing.  I’m just having one of those days.”
“Of course.  I understand how that goes.”  She looked down at him with a warm smile.  The kind that chases away the chill in your bones and gives you a sense of comfort.  If only more people were like Lily.  The whole world would be a better, warmer place.
“Say, Lily?”
“Hmmm?” she asked over her shoulder while stewing a thick broth.
“Do you think I could have a little extra today?  I didn’t eat much last night.”
“Of course.  Here you go.  I’ve wrapped it up nice and snug in this handkerchief for you incase you decide to…go anywhere.”  Wimble looked at her surprised.
“Run along now.  I’ve got cooking to do.”  Lily shooed him out the door with a wink and closed it gently behind him.
Wimble stood there thoughtfully for a moment and then headed for the south tower.  After the long hike up the stairs, he was confronted by a guard.
“What business have you in the south tower?”
“I”, his voice was weak.  He cleared his throat.  “I have come here to see the man prisoner.”  The guard eyed him questioningly. 
“Do to current events, we are not to let anyone enter his cell.  He is dangerous.”
Wimble snapped up straight with a fierce look in his eyes.  “My name is Kyron Gallywuang and I am here under the protection and orders of Arya Ciptian.  I demand that you let me see him at once!”
The guard looked at him skeptically and then broke into a grin.  “As you say sir.”  He turned around and opened the door walking in with Wimble.
“Hey you!”  He kicked the bottom of the sleeping Kyron’s boot.  “Wake up!  You have a visitor.”  Kyron wearily lifted his head up and the guard turned and left the room.
“Pssst!  Kyron!  It’s me!” Wimble whispered.
“Wimble?”  Kyron sat up rubbing his eyes.
“I brought you something.”  Wimble handed Kyron the neatly wrapped package.  “Arya told me what happened when you got out of the woods.  I’m really sorry.”  He looked down at his feet.
“It had nothing to do with you.  I’m sorry I got you into this mess.  But it is so good to see a friendly face!”  Wimble’s expression brightened.  But then it drooped again.
“I heard that you went on trial.  It obviously didn’t go too well since you’re still here.  What happened?”
Kyron thought for a moment.  “Well, it started out down in the courtyard by the fountain and they asked me questions like what is my name, did I do this, did I do that, you know, the usual.”  He stood and started to pace.  “But then I got angry I guess because they were blaming me for things I didn’t do and I let something slip.  So then”, His pacing sped up and he began using his hands to emphasize and he was starting to talk faster.  “They decided to take me straight to the throne room instead of the judgment hall.  The king seemed all nice at first, asking me my name, and where I was from.  Then he asked me what I was doing in Skull Crevice since I had to tell them we got caught by zorg and I said I couldn’t tell him and the next thing I knew, there was excruciating pain in my head and then I heard someone yell and I blacked out.”
Wimble looked at him with a cocked eyebrow.  It sounded odd and, come to think of it, he had heard some whispers about the king being ill.
“Well, look at the bright side.  At least you’re not tied up.”
“That’s the thing.  I was before the judgment and now, after what happened to the king I’m not.  I just don’t get it.”  Silence.  Wimble looked up to the window and saw an eagle fly by.  Noise could be heard from the courtyard far below, signs of the castle waking.  He looked back to Kyron with a sigh.  Then his eyes popped back open wide and he was more looked from the window to Kyron.
“Wimble…?”
“You’re part elf right?”
“Yes, but-”
“Then you’d have powers, right?”
“Ummhhh-I-”
“Riiight?”
“Well…”
“Oh come on Kyron!”
“Shhhh, shhhh” Kyron hissed waving frantically.  “They’ll hear you.”
“Well…?”
“O.K. fine.  Yes, but so what? And you had better not tell a soul.”
“Oh, don’t worry.  I already new.”
“Wha-”
“Any way, couldn’t you use your magic to escape?  Couldn’t you maybe somehow get out the window?  I know it’s a long drop but there must some sort of flying thing or you could some how make steps or a vine to climb down.  Maybe you could make a bird really big so you could ride on its back and-”
“Wimble, do you have any idea what level of magic that stuff would take if it were possible at all?  And I’ve already thought about using magic.  My ribs are killing me.  The elves would sense the power from the tower and then, PRESTO! Everyone knows I’m half elf.”
“Well if you did it fast enough you might be able to-”
“No Wimble.  I’m not going to try and escape.  I can’t just leave.”  Kyron looked down at the floor.
“Kyron,” Wimble said walking over to him.  “Why are you so desperate to stay near her?”  Kyron’s head snapped up.  “And why are you so desperate to keep your identity hidden?”
“I…It’s a long story.”
                                  -End of Chapter 9-