The Chronicles Of The Council #1: The Sun's Tears

Chapter 50: Aebbé - Mourn

“If I am dead, as dead I well may be,
You'll come and find the place where I am lying,
And kneel and say Ave there for me,
And I shall hear, though soft you tread above me,
And all my grave will warmer, sweeter be,
For you will bend and tell me that you love me,
And I shall sleep in peace until you come to me” -
Frederic Weatherly

My heart grows lighter as Raven's Peak grows ahead of us. This time, I know better than to look forward to a warm welcome. Yet I can't help but feel excited about being reunited with my family. My brothers won't dare to send me away so soon after my return from being kidnapped.

My heart plummets to the depths of Folki's caves. “Caith, something is wrong in Raven’s Peak.” What I first mistook as dark flags due to the distance, becomes black ones waving in the wind. “Do you think Darkeland invaded?”

“No, they have not.”

This journey has taught me, that whenever Caith has this ring of certainty in his voice, questioning him wouldn't be of any benefit to me. I remain silent until he answers - as I have also learned that he always provides an explanation.

“I have no idea what it could be, but my guess would be that someone of your family has passed away.”

My breath hitches. “Why?”

“Because those are flags of mourning.”

My already jumbled brain gets more tangled in confusion as I try to make sense of his words.

The stabbing pain in my heart subsides as Caith's warm hand takes mine. “Aebbé, no matter what awaits you in there, you will be fine. You will make it through. The past week you have proven that you are strong.”

I squeeze his hand. “Thank you.” A sigh escapes my lips. “Let us go.”

Caith covers his head with his cape; then thinks the better of it. He takes the cape off and throws it over my shoulders. “It will be better to cover your face for now.”

“No-one will be able to recognise us anyway,” I say. My hair looks like a bird’s nest. My face is bruised. Our clothes are caked in blood, and dust. Pieces of our clothes are torn off and missing.

“I would rather not take a chance until we know exactly what is going on in there.”

Forcing my tired burning feet to survive the last stretch, we push forward. The glaring sun burns my scratchy eyes; eyes surrounded by purple-black rings. My stomach is a mad beast tearing through itself. The last three days have been the toughest ones since my escape.

“We should go to your Order first. Prince Eoghan might be able to tell us exactly what happened,” I say after a while.

Caith nods his reply as our first obstacle approaches: entering the gate. The guards stop and search everyone passing into the city. The heavy flow of people and wagons seem impatient to enter into the city's safety.

“We won’t be able to enter without exposing me.”

“Just give me a minute. Keep your face covered at all costs,” Caith says before disappearing into the throng of people. A minute later he resurfaces, animatedly talking with the guards who shake their heads vehemently. Just like that, the guards change their attitude and nod slowly.

Caith turns his head and winks to me.

Lacking Caith's stealth, I am forced to join the flow of people waiting to enter the gate. I end behind two old women carrying baskets on their heads. I try to eavesdrop to their conversation, in order to absorb all the news of the past month or so.