"The Dawn that Rose from Fire"

Day 15 of Novel November- Alenyah and the Party reach Veilwatch Keep

Continuance of Chapter 9

Alenyah watched as Seth rode on, his hood drawn up and horse disappearing behind a low hill. They followed at a more sedate pace. The weather which had been warmer in the Vale was rapidly chilling, and Valka’s breath created billowing clouds in the air. The smallest of flakes began to whirl downwards as the sun sank towards the horizon. The cold did not feel natural, and Alenyah felt the hair on the back of her neck rise.

“I don’t understand-” she said. “It’s still summer in The Vale.” She pulled her cloak more snugly around her, watching the yellow grass bend under the wind, which was slowly growing into a roar.

“It’s the blight.” Tavern said on her left. “At least, that’s the only explanation.”

Alenya chewed the inside of her cheek thoughtfully. “So not just rot, but ice?”

“Who knows?” Tavern shrugged. Kaelen and Berin rode ahead again until the Keep was about a mile from them. Awaiting Seth, they dismounted, pulling Valka and the horses together into a barrier against the biting wind.

The party huddled against the wind, the fortress looming ahead like a jagged sentinel. Alenyah tugged her cloak tighter, eyes scanning the crumbling stone and flickering beacon. Even from this distance, she could see signs of habitation: a faint plume of smoke drifting from a chimney, footprints pressed into the snow-dusted earth.

Althea settled herself on a large, flat stone, setting down her tiny finger loom. Her hands moved deftly, threading a border trim as though the cold were meaningless. “Better than sitting in silence,” she muttered, though the quiet focus drew the others’ attention. The faint clinks of weaving tools offered a rhythm to counter the howl of the wind.

Tavren knelt to unpack a small fire kit and a few rations, spreading the embers carefully to catch in the shelter of the fortress wall. Soon the smell of frying meat and herbs mingled with the crisp northern air. Alenyah watched, faintly amused, as Tavren’s careful movements revealed a surprising talent for cooking, and even Valka’s ears twitched with appreciation.

Kaelen and Foxran moved among the group, checking the perimeter, their amber and brown eyes scanning the shadowed edges of the keep. Foxran’s posture was taut, every muscle ready, while Kaelen’s movements were quieter, more thoughtful.

In the gathering darkness, Alenyah pulled out her blade and set it on the grass near her. She rose, feeling Kaelen’s eyes on her, as she pulled a small buckler from the side of Valka’s saddle.

“Expecting trouble?” He rumbled as he paced past her. She shivered- because of the wind, she told herself.

“I’d rather be ready,” Her thumb stroked over the pommel. “Just in case.” Kaelen hummed in response, continuing his anxious circling of the group as they all waited for Seth to return.

Chapter 10

Alenyah awoke to the pounding sound of hoofbeats. She turned over, groaning, and flinched to see Kaelen bent over her, one arm reached out.

“Seth’s back,” He said, pulling away. “I meant to wake you.”

Her heart calmed slowly as she shuffled awkwardly onto her knees.

“It’s fine,” she muttered. “I mean, thank you.”

Kaelen nodded once, stepping away to stride up to Seth, who dismounted and was barely visible in the darkness. Alenyah looked around for her sword, viewing the sleeping forms of Althea, tucked between Tavren and Foxran. Berin flipped through a small book in the light of the campfire.

She found her sword tangled in her cloak and blanket and shook it free. Her shield she’d been using as a pillow to keep her head off the cold ground. Alenyah shivered. She hated the cold and the darkness. The night was cloudy, and she could not even see the stars.

Seth crouched in front of the fire, warming his hands, and Alenyah scrambled to ladle him out the stew Tavren had made for dinner. He took it gratefully, and Berin shuffled over.

“We are lucky,” Seth mumbled, his mouth full. Alenyah grimaced at him, and he swallowed sheepishly before continuing. “The Watchers still hold the Keep. They await our arrival tomorrow morning.”

“You spoke to them?” Kaelen’s voice held a note of reproach. Seth nodded, waving his hand as though it were of no consequence.

“I ran into some of them at dusk, checking their fields.”

“There’s something growing in those fields?” Berin said, surprised.

“Growing is a generous word.” Seth shifted to his weight before settling onto the ground. “The blight has sickened their crops as well. They had hoped-” his gaze drifted to Alenyah. “-we could help.”

Kaelen clenched his fists, and Alenyah looked away.

He asked, voice low, “What did you tell them?”

“I told them we were travelling North and needed to stop at the Keep for supplies, and that we would offer them what aid we could.” Seth furrowed his brow. “If we want help and to get our bearings, it’d be best to give them something in return.”

Kaelen huffed, running his hands through his hair in agitation. Seth leaned back on one elbow and stretched out his legs.

“Kaelen, relax. These are not Hollow Men, and even if they were, they look like they haven’t eaten well in weeks. They pose no danger to us.”

Alenyah looked at her hands and the dirt under her nails.

“Depending on what you offered them, it poses every danger!”

The Stoneborn snapped, looming over Seth, who nearly dropped his stew. Her heart jumped, and Alenyah flinched away from him. He moved so suddenly, that for a moment, she wondered if she would have actually managed to harm him that night in Berin’s cottage. She could have ended up on the wrong end of his blade or his strength. It was obvious in the way his muscles rippled under his skin, veined with orelike streaks of silver. He had at least a foot on her, and her voice had no power over the people of the Song.

He caught the look in her eyes and stepped away, jaw tightening. The sleeping forms stirred, and Althea sat up, yawning.

“Hollow Men?” She rubbed her eyes. “Who are they?”

Silence hummed before Berin spoke.

“You wouldn’t have known, seeing as you’ve not left The Vale.” He closed his book and stood, walking to put it in his leather satchel. “It all began with one man, whom they call ‘The Hollow King’. He claims he can hear the Song of the Maker, even though he is not Fey’ri.”

“How is this possible?” Althea tilted her head, confused. “I thought the whole point of this is that only Fey’ri can understand the Song.”

“That’s not necessarily true.” Foxran broke in. “Stoneborn hear the singing deep within the earth. We just cannot harness it in the same way.”

“Okay, so is he Stoneborn?”

Berin continued, “We don’t know. No one has seen him and lived to tell about it- at least no one who is not Hollow themselves. They become twisted, the longer they are in his lands and his presence.”

“They’re men who heard the Song twisted by Menerith’s Wyrm,” Seth explained. “They believe it is the true Creator now, since the first… is gone.”

Althea’s lips pressed together. “Barbaric.”

Foxran added quietly, “Their leader claims he can hear the Song himself. They call him a Hollow King, hollow because he has no song of his own. He must embody Menerith’s.”

“Menerith is gone too,” Alenyah added, bitterness lacing her tone. She stood and walked to the edge of the firelight. For a moment, the wind rose, whipping her braid against her face just like that day a century ago. “And the Maker, he sang the world into being, but just because he doesn’t interfere doesn’t mean he has abandoned it. His Song still lives.”

The fire crackled, and no one spoke for a moment.

Alenyah’s lips twisted. “I’ve met them before. The men are zealots, and the corruption has tainted their bodies.”

Althea grimaced and flopped back down between Foxran and Tavren. “Well, hopefully we won’t meet any on this journey!”

Alenyah’s gaze moved, haunted, to Kaelen’s, shadowed by the flames. She remembered the burns from her last encounter with the Hollow Men, the Song darkened by her own screams, the cracking of whips and crying out of her people who had fallen into their trap alongside her.

She swallowed, “Hopefully.”