The Crowned Captive

The ground seemed to pass under them quicker today. Whether it was that Rowan’s mare was lighter without them both or whether it was Morana’s own worry, she was unsure. But she noticed how quickly the forest was changing too, the dry leaf litter and sea of brown bark slowly shifting to wild shades of green. Moss grew over the logs and rocks, vines crept up the trees, and the canopy thickened to the point it blocked out nearly all light. Even the birds changed, shifting from the quiet and shy sparrows to songbirds who could mesmerise even the most stone-hearted man. With their steady incline included, she suspected they were nearly upon the mountain range that split the fae territory from her homeland.

By the time the evening light struggled through the canopy overhead, Morana knew she had lost her chance to escape that day. She sighed behind Rowan, who was now scanning the forest with watchful eyes. Her legs ached terribly from a long day of riding, and she honestly longed for the chance to sit and do something other than stare at trees.

“Have you ever hunted anything larger than rabbits before?” Rowan asked as he slowed in front of her. Morana nearly snorted.

“I tried once to take down a doe with a hunting knife. I ended up tripping over as I sprinted after her and ate dirt instead of venison that night,” she replied, a smirk on her face at the memory. She had been all of thirteen years old and had far more ambition than sense.

“Would you like to learn? There is a weapon cache nearby for when fae warriors are posted out for long periods. You won’t get to touch the weapons, of course, but we are not in that much of a rush as to miss a hearty meal.”

The offer shocked Morana, even more so that Rowan seemed completely genuine. She tried to think of what sort of backward motivation he may have but came up with nothing. Whilst it did show he thought of her as no threat, putting a literal cache of weapons in front of her, it still seemed far too friendly.

“I’d be more than happy to learn, or even just eat something more than birds or rodents,” Morana confessed. It had been far, far too long since she had a meal that would truly fill her stomach or put meat on her bones.

“It’s decided then. We will leave the horses here and find the cache on foot. It’s warded so anything that is not fae would end up… looking rather grotesque should they be forced across the barrier. We do not need to harm your poor horse.”

“And what about me?” She asked, her heart rising up her throat. Maybe that was it - he was leading her astray just to be done with her.

“You have enough fae blood,” Rowan finally replied after a pregnant pause.

“Are you quite certain? It took you a long time to answer that.”

“I am certain, and you are wearing on the little patience I have. We are heading off now or not at all,” Rowan snapped in reply.

Whilst Morana was far from filled with confidence, she decided it was better to not push the subject. She followed suit as Rowan slid off his horse. Once again, he tied the gelding to his mare before signalling for Morana to follow. As they walked through the forest, she noted that the calls of the songbirds slowly died, and even the last rays of light struggled through the densely woven canopy. She was grateful for her enhanced vision as they walked deeper into the wild forest.

It was when true silence hit that she felt the thrum of energy beneath her. It flowed through her veins and clawed at her very soul, burning like an icy fire. She gasped as it got hold of her, driving her to her knees. Pure power, true power, more than she could have ever imagined, ran beneath the soil here. Without even thinking about it, she buried her fingers into the ground, as if to grab the energy that flowed within, and tipped her face to the heavens.

It was a long moment before her senses returned to her. Her whole body was left tingling. As she opened her eyes, she saw Rowan standing before her. The elf stared at her with a look of bewilderment and concern, a great deal paler than normal. She blinked, trying to fight the fuzziness from her mind. For a second, she could hear wordless voices, one deep and booming and the other like the laughter of children. The sound vanished as she stood and swallowed. Her heart seemed to buzz within her chest still, and that thrum of power still called to her as she started walking towards Rowan on shaky feet.

“You aren’t going to tell me whatever the hell that was?” He asked as she approached.

“You aren’t going to tell me? The power, whatever fae ward you were talking about, just got in my head, I suppose,” she grumbled. She rubbed her hands over her skin, trying to get rid of the feeling of lightning without success.

“What do you mean?”

“What do you mean, what do I mean? You can’t feel that whole energy thing? The power that keeps running up your legs?”

“No, Morana, I cannot feel anything. Do we need to go back to the horses?”

Morana frowned as Rowan eyed her for a long moment. He stood with his legs planted, as if ready for her to attack him. She shook her head and walked past him with her cheeks burning in embarrassment. With no clue where they were going, she stalked over to a nearby fallen tree and sat on the log. Thankfully, Rowan turned and moved only a few metres in front of her. He stopped in front of two trees that leaned so heavily against each other their trunks had become entwined. With one more hard look over his shoulder, he closed his eyes and began murmuring. The feeling of power running along her skin increased again, and she fought not to gasp and claw at her skin as the burning energy seemed to dig into her very soul. An excruciating second later, it dropped back to the previous level. Before her very eyes, the space between the two trees glimmered and a window of black materialised. Rowan looked at her again, clearly threatening bodily harm if she was to move, before walking straight into the void. She blinked as the inky depths swallowed him, and then a handful of seconds later, he emerged once more. He had a short sword strapped to his back, a bow in hand, a quiver against his thigh and likely a handful more weapons concealed on his person.

“Are you done acting strangely quite yet?” Rowan asked as the window of blackness slipped away behind him.

“What is in there?” Morana asked, completely ignoring his question. The truth was, she had no clue if she was quite done. Rowan frowned at the reply.

“A pocket realm of sorts. All of them are connected to a weapons cache that some poor sod has to keep constantly stocked. You can only enter the area around them if you are fae - anybody else will feel the urge to go around, or excruciating pain if they ignore it and attempt to cross. You can only open them if you know the correct phrase in the Old Tongue. The door itself is only one way, so you can’t go through it to any other place than the one you came from.”

“It’s just weapons? That’s it?”

“Yes, Morana, it is just weapons. And frankly, your whole power thing is making me second guess our hunting trip more and more.”

Morana merely nodded, eager to end the conversation and leave the area. Rowan sighed and walked off. She was only happy to follow, huffing out a sigh of relief as the fingers of foreign energy detached from her once more. Rowan looked over at her, still confused, though they did not change course as they walked deeper into the forest.