The Halo Of Vakh (BOOK 1)

THE DRAWING OF THE DARK

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The water whipped around the shore in wild waves like a monster raging in its cage. The clouds thundered above, a wild wind blowing over and around the vast depths of the sea, spreading the salt air far and wide. Sapphire could feel the taste of the wind on her tongue as she had never done before. In Kapok, the air tasted of pine sap and maple bark, a combination that kept her at ease. The saline atmosphere with its humid air made her feel trapped. Out over the water a ship bobbed up and down, arriving from Nirin, loaded full to the brim with weapons. A light revolved over the dark waters. It would reach the harbour within a few minutes if her estimations were correct. She had seen the shipping schedule earlier that morning.
Somewhere in the distance, a bell tolled and a voice hollered. Her eyes snapped sideways and her lips pursed. She could see the dark silhouette moving towards her.

Wait.

She had to wait. She could not move just yet. Not without confirming it was the prey she wanted to lure in. A light flickered, and she caught a glimpse of the long hair and black cloak over the heavy armour. Her heart skipped a beat in fear. She traced the crooked top of her staff with one finger, another reminder of what she had survived; she would never be able to walk properly again, always with a limp.

She stood silent, her cloak billowing. In that moment she was reminded of a VannØrn warrior her mother and Orion used to talk about. A shadow, a part of the dark, always there among the lingering, in the gloom, fierce and unyielding, the legendary Hilda VannØrn, abandoned, yet with the greatest compassion in her heart. Her bows and arrows and dark cloak were her only companions.

The man neared and she moved, making sure he saw her, confirming that the light from a lone lantern caught her hair and made it flare like fire. She heard the heavy footsteps halt on the sand and knew she had been spotted. She increased her pace, her staff sinking lightly into the ground with every step. She carried herself away from the sea and towards the darkness that enveloped the city. The wind had blown out the torches. Her heart beat fast. She could not help the fear settle into her stomach.

She knew she would not be caught, at least not immediately. Later, though, she didn't know. A cloud thundered above her, lighting the sky up and she chanced a glance back. She was still being followed.

She took a turn right and slowed down, making sure the man was still behind her. A bell rang above her as she threw open the door of the small inn. Her eyes scanned over the crowded place, settling on a group settled in a far corner; a woman and two men. She made her way towards them. She looked over their garb and frowned. They wore Falargimean attire and yet seemed out of place with thick turbans on their heads and black ink running along the napes of their necks. The woman looked up at her, eyes thickly lined in black, her earthy complexion, highlighted by the golden flames of the lantern above her. The men remained engrossed in whatever game it was they were playing.

Satarians with a few Nirrin clothes, at home in Falargimea.

Sapphire pulled out one of the chairs and gracefully dropped into it, her face solemn, back stiff. The woman raised a thick brow at her.

"He shall be here any moment," Sapphire gave the answer to her unasked question. The woman nodded her head once, a graceful motion that made her heavy earrings oscillate like a pendulum. Her hazel gaze narrowed at her companions.

"Nosir," she leant her head to the man on her left, a man with a heavy set jaw, skin the same shade as the woman. Sapphire noticed how the woman rolled the last syllable on her tongue, a soft purr. "My brother. Aset, my husband."

The man in question raised one hand in greeting, spewing out a string of words that failed to make sense in her mind; he rolled his tongue too much while speaking. She gave a tight-lipped smile. She did not care if she was coming off as rude, she did not want to stay long in the presence of these foreigners, even if they were there to help her. The chatter around them grew louder as they waited. In one corner a group of men played their instruments, letting the melody fade into the clinking of utensils.