Chapter 14 — A Family Secret

Xyn had initially felt that riding to Ravenhill in a farmer’s covered wagon was a terrible waste of time; even so, Yillian was adamant that being seen ‘fleeing’ from Clear River Crossing risked connecting them with the mysterious assault on the count’s son.

To Xyn’s pleasant surprise the three of them had each made productive use of the time. Ayla had maintenanced her weapon and hopefully worked through some of her grief about her cousin’s death. Yillian seemed to have found interesting insights from Nicolas’ research and the teleportation circle (which Master Arienos had reported was likely keyed to the creator by blood) and had immersed himself in studying. For himself, Xyn found that he had a great many insights of his own from the experiences during the castle infiltration and worked hard to consolidate his gains.

He was thrilled that Ayla chose to join the Society and was continuing to travel with him and Yillian. That meant he would still have chances to win her over in the future even if he failed in the short term—assuming some other guy didn’t win her interest first. She was aware of his interest, which meant the lack of a positive response was proof that she wasn’t yet convinced of his suitability, so for now, while he was improving himself in order to become worthy, he would focus on earning her trust.

The sparring session was spur of the moment but had been a great success, and he had a much better idea of his companions’ talents afterward.

Ayla’s skill and strength was expected and made him even more determined to see her become a part of the Kyrren tribe. Not only would her martial arts provide new Paths for Kyrren warriors, her rare and strong Fire element would have great synergies with his Wind and Water—his kits might Awaken compound elements such as Firestorm, Steam, or even Ice and Fire dualities!

Thanks to their spar, Xyn gained valuable combat experience against an opponent of similar capability, and her unexpected defense against his Rippling Strikes had tremendously helped him with improving the technique.

Yillian had thoroughly surprised him. Xyn had never expected the half-elf to be skilled in the use of small blades! But, in the end the half-elf’s unorthodox fighting methods were hardly a match for his grandmother’s martial arts.

He wasn’t sure whether teaching the Way of Dancing Petal to someone who wasn’t a disciple (and who wasn’t a Kyrren) was allowed but doubted he would get in any trouble for teaching a friend and companion the basics of the style. Besides, he found perverse enjoyment each time Yillian glared at him while practicing the forms that would make the half-elf’s footwork more graceful. As payback for tricking him when they first met, Xyn made sure to continuously include references to flowers and beauty while explaining the theory. Passing on his own suffering from his grandmother’s training to someone else was cathartic to the extent that his mood improved just thinking about it, and he couldn’t help grinning.

“Somehow that smug grin makes me want to poison your dinner after all,” Yillian grumbled with hooded eyes before turning toward the front of the wagon, “Jorel, here is fine for us to get off.”

“You sure, young master?” The farmer glanced back as he directed the horses to slow to a stop. “I don’t mind taking you wherever in town you want to go.”

“No, here is fine.”

“If’n you say so.”

Once everything was unloaded, Yillian handed the farmer some coins. “Thanks for the ride and for putting up with our whims.”

The farmer nodded agreeably. “’twas my pleasure, young masters. I already sold my stock so wasn’t in any hurry.”

“Remember, you didn’t see us,” Yillian pressed.

“Of course! I certainly didn’t see Young Lady Ayla trying to avoid her suitor, or nothin’. We townsfolk are right understanding of the situation. Shame it’s come to this though, and if I be saying, her ladiness’ hair be much prettier in its natural red. That and her rambunctious smile brightens our day, it does.” The farmer gave Ayla an understanding tip of the hat as he urged the sturdy farm-horses forward.

“Don’t say it,” Ayla warned Yillian who had a crooked grin on his face.

“Wait, Ayla already has a suitor?” This was worrisome news of the worst kind.

The usually-flame-maned noble scrunched her human nose in distaste. “He’s my parents’ idea.”

“Why did you think Ayla dyed her hair?” Yillian pointed out with a tone and body language indicating that Xyn was missing the obvious.

Of course, Xyn knew the reason. “Because, her hair is too recognizable and she wanted to travel in disguise, obviously.”

Yillian rolled his eyes and pulled up his hood. “Ayla, is there anything we need to worry about sneaking into town?”

Ayla shook her head. “No, there’s no wall or checkpoints, except for around the manor.”

“Except, you and your cousin are currently missing, right?”

“Ah…” Ayla gripped her cloak tighter at the reminder. “There might be increased security if my father is worried about further attacks on the family.”

Yillian’s worry proved unfounded, and they were able to walk into town without any fuss. The town was scenic, carved into a large hill and shaded by towering oaks. A stream meandered its way down the hill channeled into switchbacks and small waterfalls that powered mill wheels before lazily finding its way to the farm fields. Ravens roosted on the trees, houses, and road signs.

Xyn was musing on how humans liked to build on hills, but perhaps the large number of ever-present ravens were more notable.

“The ravens protect the town from threats,” Ayla volunteered, noticing Xyn’s interest. “It’s tradition to put un-eaten food out for them at night.”

Ayla might have said more but the sight of a brightly dressed noble exiting his carriage froze her in place.

“I’ll take a bouquet of those lovely russet flowers, warm and fiery like a sunrise! Just like my Ayla!”

“Right away, milord. I’m sure she will love them,” the woman readily approved and began arranging the selection, though Xyn thought he saw the female flower-seller’s smile twitch a bit.

Was that a relative of Ayla’s? Xyn glanced over to see Ayla had moved to hide behind Yillian. The man was still talking, so Xyn listened in again.

“-hopefully, she will return from her sojourn soon, my heart can barely withstand the longing—nay, it cannot withstand! Each day apart is a torture as if winter has clutched me in a grasp that only sight of her can melt!”

“If I may be so bold, milord,” the shopkeeper interjected when the man paused for breath. “Perhaps milady would respond favorably to a pretty dress or maybe a fancy scarf from Edwin, a tailor of some fame within the town.”

“Oh! A fabulous idea! I shall do just that! Whether emerald to complement her vivid eyes or autumn glory to stand them in verdant contrast—I wonder which would be more wondrous to lay sight upon?” The man pondered as he waddled back onto his gilded white carriage. “Driver! Let us away to this Edwin!”

The attendant receiving the bundled flowers, hurriedly paid the flower-seller and ran after the speedy carriage.

“So that’s your suitor, huh,” Yillian teased with a smirk.

“Shut up.” Ayla punched the half-elf from behind hard enough that he winced and started rubbing the spot.

Suitor? That soft and round and funny-talking human?

“Surely, I could convince your parents I am the better choice,” Xyn blurted out.

Ayla abruptly looked at him, and her face made a human expression he was unfamiliar with. “Um… I appreciate the… consideration, but we have more important things to see to.”

Yillian’s shoulders were trembling for some reason, and Ayla punched the half-elf again before walking ahead, leading the way deeper into the town.

Xyn couldn’t help worrying. Was there really a chance he could lose to such a person? The thought bothered him enough that he knew he would definitely need to convince Ayla’s parents.

“How do we want to go about this?” Yillian asked and motioned toward the pair of guards watching the entrance to her uncle’s grounds and manor.

With everyone in her family probably looking for her, there was no guarantee that her uncle’s guards wouldn’t run off to tell her father, and there was no way the guards would allow three strangers to enter even if by some chance they didn’t recognize her.

“I can put the guards to sleep,” Xyn offered.

Ayla shook her head, there was some appeal to a direct approach, but guards looking dead would surely bring more attention than she wanted. “No. I know a good place where we can hop the wall.”

The wall was mortared stone over head-high for even Xyn. Moss and lichen grew in patches along the mortar and berry vines draped down periodically from weathered planters at the top.

Ayla could maybe feel the strange veil of Xyn’s aura that was wrapping around their group to keep them less noticeable as she led them back into the alleyway formed by the wall and large storehouse adjacent. Sensing the aura of others, or anything outside her body, had always been a struggle, but since her spar with Xyn earlier, she had made an unexpected breakthrough. Was she on the verge of her long-sought goal to externally manifest her Fire?

The area behind the warehouse and hugging the rear of her uncle’s estate was undeveloped forest. A sinister feel of always being watched followed her whenever she entered this patch of greenery, and so she never wandered too deeply.

When they approached near a back corner, Ayla spotted the tree she wanted. The low branches reaching out over the wall. She’d ruined more than a few dresses climbing its rough bark. Now that she was older, the method was much simpler—honestly, she didn’t really need the tree anymore to jump the wall, but it was habit by now.

Gathering aura in her legs, she leapt onto a low branch and ran along it a short distance before jumping down into the back corner of the training ground on the other side.

She half expected Xyn to use his claws to scale the tree, but he flitted delicately and traversed the branch as if floating then fluttered to the ground, not appearing to expend any effort. Somehow the muscled cat guy’s calm movements had made her practiced effort seem like the charge of a thunderbeast in comparison.

Reflected arcane light briefly lit the tree, and Yillian followed, wobbling a bit as he landed on the branch, probably due to the extra weight of his large pack. After recovering, he stepped along the branch with his arms out for balance before swinging down off the branch to land in the packed dirt, brushing the dirt of his hand after using it to catch his landing.

“A petal lands lightly, the air itself guides one with grace to the destination. Hmm, this might be a good exercise for you to practice, Yillian,” Xyn chided.

“Shut up,” came the inevitable reply from the elf.

Ayla found their recent antics amusing, but the somber task ahead again weighed on her emotions. She raised her finger to her mouth to silence them.

Unlike the previous times she had jumped the wall, ravens were gathering around in large numbers, and there was a growing sense of being watched that was uncomfortably similar to what she felt from the nearby woods as a little girl.

The grounds were empty, and no servants were in sight, so she motioned her companions to follow her to the stone and wood training hall. A light from the high window openings shown dimly in the evening gloom. Fenton’s grandfather was likely there as hoped.

When they approached the doorless entry way to the hall, she motioned for Xyn and Yillian to wait outside and entered. The sight of Master Garrin meditating on a mat in front of the familiar Raven tapestry filled her with relief and trepidation.

“Come in, Ayla.”

“Yes, Master Garrin.” Ayla found herself hesitating to bring up the topic but steadied her resolve. “I bring unfortunate news.”

“Fenton?”

“I’m afraid so. According to Nicolas Arden, he was entirely consumed by the revived Xogg`Shriloth.”

Her dark-haired master sighed and gingerly rose from where he was sitting. “Sir Devin arrived this morning with Fenton’s belongings. We should go tell your aunt and uncle.”

“It’s all my fault, master!” Ayla blurted out. “If I had been more aware…”

Master Garrin’s sinewy hand gently patted her shoulder. “Don’t blame yourself for Fenton’s weakness.”

“But…”

Her protestation was met with a denying head shake. “As your uncle’s heir, his source of power and future has always been different than yours.”

“The Cult of the Shadow Raven,” Ayla guessed.

“Oh? So you knew?” Fenton’s grandfather raised an eyebrow in surprise.

Ayla shook her head. “I came across an entry when researching the local land gods.”

That her home town had been listed as the location of a land god had come as a shock when she saw it, but the more she considered the unusual customs, the strange behavior of the town’s ravens, and all the raven symbology, Ayla was more surprised that she hadn’t been more suspicious all along.

“I see. I suppose you’re curious why we hid it from you.”

She was and hesitantly nodded.

Master Garrin chuckled. “It’s not that complicated. When you were born with your mother’s red hair and gift of Fire, your parents agreed to hide the source of the Ravenhill family’s heritage from you. Your future was to be married into another family after all, and with your Fire Element, you would have no need for the Shadow Raven’s power.”

It made sense. She couldn’t give up a secret she didn’t know. “So, our family’s Shadow Element comes from the land god?”

“It does. Countless generation of our family have entered into a Pact with the Shadow Raven and received its power in exchange for our service to the land.”

“The forest?” Ayla asked motioning in the general direction, remembering how the forest behind her uncle’s estate had always made her feel and how it had been left undisturbed all these years.

“Well, it’s more than that, but the shrine is located there.” Her master placed a hand on her back and guided her toward the exit. “We can talk about that more later. For now, we’d better not leave your friends where a misunderstanding might happen.”

“Ah, right,” Ayla acknowledged, allowing herself to be ushered along.

“So, which one are you sweet on?”

“As if!”