Haaling

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Chapter Seven: Haaling.

They gave me a tent, even though I suspected the Captain wanted to pitch me out into the snow. Then, I expected to be sleeping with people, but the Magister simply bade me a good night, nervously glancing towards the hounds that had shoved themselves in, nestling close to each other.

I could count on my hands the nights where I had slept without another person with me. As a child, all the children slept together around the fire of our humble home, in Dratlan we shared rooms and when we went on trips outside the Keep, we slept close together to preserve warmth.

These humans were strange. They had large tents that had enough room to pack in several bodies with relative comfort, but they chose to sleep separately. Maybe that was their custom but if the hounds weren't here with me, I wouldn't have been able to sleep.

The camp was quiet during the night, save for the crunch of the night-watcher's boots over the snow. I curled my knees up to my chest, my two palms spread out in front of me. These marks were not scars – they were rooted into my skin and pulsed along my bloodstream. My veins had lit up earlier.

I just stared at them for a long time, my mind numb and dull. It had to be from the tablet – it had to be. There was no strength to muster panic, or concern and I just continued to stare until my eyes ached from the sliver sheen and then, dropped closed from utter exhaustion.

I dreamed of nothing.

≻≺

Haaling was situated on a steep embankment alongside a curl in the Haal river. The river marked an unofficial border between the Elven and human lands. It was all ruled by the Emperor, but those petty, human lords who owned far more than they needed liked to sit comfortably in their estates knowing that the Elves were stashed far into the brutal north-east of Cadelith.

They never seemed to realise that making a people grow up in conditions like that, with a hatred burning in their chest bred tougher creatures than those who lived in luxury.

The land swelled and dipped on the approach to Haaling. The walls were not as high as those of Dratlan and were made of a tough, dark grey stone. Tendrils of smoke curled and drifted into the darkening sky.

A shout trembled through the procession of tired, stressed soldiers and Magins. I had kept to the back of them during the journey, speaking only when spoken to and eating alone. Sometimes the Zentin would wander close, an ear pricked in my direction before he went on his merry way. The hounds deterred most from bothering me, but I heard the whispered comments, the barbed and snide insult some threw my way because I was a Half-Blood.

I ignored it all. My mind was always wandering, taking in the world beyond the valley and noting new plant-life, but recognising it from my studies. Little games like that kept my mind on other things other than the endless snow, the moaning soldiers and the heat stirring under my skin like a slumbering beast.

With each step Arrow took towards Haaling, the more I wondered about Kendon and Vanya. Kendon would have loved to take this journey with me, only to see the new sights. He was suspicious of humans, but he wondered about the Imperial City and had often sat with me on the walls and regaled us with tales of the outrageous wealth of the Emperor. Vanya had wanted to see what she called the 'sand-earth'. I didn't quite know what she meant by that. I knew what sand was of course- I grew up in a fishing village by the sea but she talked about a place that sat inland and the sun was relentless and vicious.

Arrow gave a rough jolt as Zeer darted in front of her. Her nostrils flared, and I patted her thick neck, murmuring soft words to soothe her. She was slowly getting used to the hounds. I was proud of her; she was prey to them, but the hounds had not even snapped in her direction and she didn't rear when they came near her anymore.

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