Shadowguard

Her escort arrived just before dawn.

When Everna emerged from the barracks and into the streets of Pendel, she found the most unusual sight before her. Mid-autumn lurked around the corner, but overnight, the frigid breath of winter gripped the town. The southern portion of the kingdom rarely saw more than a dusting, and it never lasted more than a few hours. Yet, for the first time in her life, snow transformed Pendel into a glittering sea of white.

Where Pendel saw several inches, the rest of the kingdom saw feet. Gold and red leaves clung to the snow-burdened trees that dotted the interior farmlands. Icicles hung from the eaves of houses and barns. Ears of corn and wheat stalks peeked out from beneath several feet of snow. When the wagon passed through the town of Kingsford, a pair of horses equipped with a plow took up the lead.

The cart followed slowly behind. Snow and dirt piles, which buried pasture and corral fences, post boxes, and stone walls, marked their path forward. Dark, heavy clouds smothered the northern sky, and she heard the guards talk of another blizzard predicted to blow through before the week's end. The first took the kingdom by surprise and another spelled trouble for the harvest season. A long and hard winter lay ahead, as did the threat of a food shortage.

It may be the last winter she will see.

She should've known better than to believe her visitor would deliver on his promise, but she still clung to the hope that he would.

She sighed and drew her knees to her chest. By this time tomorrow, if the snow didn't delay them further, she'd be in another cell, this one deep beneath the capital's prison. There would be criminals with her — real criminals. If the stories were true, she may not survive to see her execution day, which, as she overheard earlier that morning, would be in a week's time. The Guard wasn't known for its hospitality towards those who found themselves in the state prison. In their eyes, she was no longer human. She was a murderer — Kinslayer — and there were few names worse than that.

The ride to the capital was long and uncomfortable, punctuated by a single night spent in a musty cow barn in Kingsford. Her cart offered nothing but bleak walls and a small, barred window at the top of the heavy door, as well as another that overlooked the driver's bench. It reeked as well, a pungent lingering stench that sat heavy on her tongue. She couldn't place the scent; it sat somewhere between dirty hay and body odor with the unpleasant tinge of something sour. Every bump and divot in the road jostled her, and try as she might, she couldn't find a single place to escape it. There were no benches, only a rough wooden floor that shifted and bowed beneath her.

"You think she did it?" one of her escorts asked. He turned to peer at her through the bars.

"I'd sooner believe a boar mauled him in the middle of the tavern," the second said. "Pendel's Guard is smoking hackweed if they truly believe that tiny thing took down one of the Five Heroes. That's just downright insulting."

The first snorted. "I find it hard to believe as well. Arden Ashburn slew the Spider Queen and survived the Battle of Heavenly Flames, and some old slag expects us to believe a barmaid bested him in a fight?"

It was a ridiculous notion, now that she thought about it. She wasn't completely incompetent; her father had taught her to defend herself. She could hold her own against the average person, but she'd never win a fight against a man who built a reputation on martial prowess.

"He was getting on in years, but that poor wench looks like she can barely manage a sword, much less kill with one," the second agreed. "Though you never know, I suppose. Rumor has it she's Ronan Dragonslayer's daughter. The Ronan Dragonslayer."

"Really?" the first guard asked. He turned fully in his seat and said, "Hey, girl. I have a question."

Everna bit back a sigh. "No, he did not jump off the castle and stab the dragon through the head."

"How— How did you know I was going to ask?"

"Because everyone asks.” She shifted her position again and leaned back against the wall. It dipped beneath her weight and in the small crack between the wall and the floor, she could see the snowy road drift past. "It ate him."

That revelation caught the other's attention. "It ate him?!"

"As he jumped off the castle's parapets, the dragon turned and opened its mouth," she explained. "Fortunate enough to be swallowed whole, he slew the dragon from the inside by carving his way out of its stomach."

Her mother and Mayor Ashburn made certain she knew what had transpired in the last moments of the battle. Neither of them could pass on the opportunity to remind her father of his idiocy. The slew of travelers and bards begging for clarification and children eager to hear the tale ensured she never forgot. She must've told the story a hundred times over the years.

"That's... I don't know if that's more impressive or horribly anticlimactic," the first guard muttered.

With his curiosity sated, silence once again reigned as the cart continued on.

Before long, scattered glimpses of Inversa's southern outskirts appeared behind the barred window. She couldn't see much, but she passed through Mendbrook enough to visualize it. Houses of red brick and gray stone dotted the hilly countryside. As they passed further into the town, the buildings grew in number until they stood in dense clusters along the meandering streets. They towered as they drew closer to the wall, two stories giving way to three, and soon five or six. The ones butted against the wall stood nearly ten stories tall; they were multifamily buildings, each floor housing four separate homes.

When the light waned, she knew they passed into the shadow of the wall. Two hundred feet tall and nearly an eighth of a mile thick, they were a sight to behold. It took the better part of a decade and nearly five thousand workers to construct it. Rather than cut through the massive plateau that comprised nearly a quarter of the city, the wall dropped sharply at the cliffs before it curved around the eastern half of the city. On the north side of Inversa, it jutted upward again.

Beyond the wall, the towering buildings of the Golden Spires, where the nobility dwelt, reached high into the heavens. The tallest of all was Castle Inversa, a massive construction of white stone and gleaming crystal monoliths set at the very edge of the plateau. She couldn't see it as they passed through the Golden Spires, but she'd long since committed it's grandeur to memory. It would be alight now, the crystals gleaming beneath the late afternoon sun.

Though she could not see Castle Inversa, when the cart passed over the Golden Bridge, which sloped from the top of the rise to the main street of the Mid Spires, the cliff face came into view.

The nobles prided themselves in the beauty of the Golden Spires, with its crystal clear canals, babbling streams, and the white, flowering vines wrapped around every building and arch way. Everna, however, thought the view from the eastern side of the city was the most beautiful. The streams and canals spilled over the edge of the plateau, creating a slew of branching waterfalls that cascaded into the river, which followed the base of the rise. Small trees, leafy bushes, and, in the spring and summer, scattered bunches of flowers, filled the rocky protrusions between. Sweeping roofed terraces meandered along the cliff-face. The bittersweet nostalgia settled over her. She used to sit in the one nearest the castle and listen to the water rush past as she studied her texts.

From there, the cart passed through the streets of the Old City. Gone was the glitz and glamor, the lavish manors and fanciful decorations. The houses and buildings that lined the cobbled streets resembled the typical style found throughout the kingdom. Brick and stone constructions stood next to wattle-and-daub houses that leaned slightly beneath the burden of the weight they bore. Small plazas adorned with stone arches, overgrown parks, and weed-infested gardens filled the larger gaps between the buildings. Those gaps were all that remained of the buildings lost during the Heavenly Fire. Each one bore a small plaque in honor of her father's deed.

Though he was not the only one involved in the battle, which lasted for three days, it was his sword that slew the beast.

After it ate him, of course.

Guilt pitted in her stomach. She hadn't thought of her parents since her arrest. On the road, it was easy to ignore her circumstances — to pretend it was a rather uncomfortable trip back to the Academy. Now, as the Old City passed beyond the bars of her cart, the bitter reality set in. Soon, they would arrive at the prison, where she'd spend the last days of her existence, her parents none the wiser.

She doubted they knew, and once they found out, she could only imagine the chaos they'd cause. She almost felt sorry for Windmore. Almost.

Her thoughts came to an abrupt halt as the cart jerked to a stop. Everna frowned and peered out the window. They were still in the Old City, on the eastern edge near the market square; she could see the roof of the nearby temple, blanketed in snow, peaking above the swath of buildings that bordered the western side. The prison was a mile to the south in the heart of Low Town.

The guards didn't allow her a moment to gather her bearings before they wrenched the doors open and hauled her out. Frigid winds tore at her skirt as she stumbled from the cart. Her foot slipped on the thin layer of invisible ice that coated the cobblestone, and it was by pure luck that she didn't fall face-first into the street.

"Straight to the Inquisitor with her," a guard barked. "She was supposed to be here yesterday, but you lot took your sweet time."

"I can't control the damned weather," one of her escorts grumbled. "'S not my fault. The roads were blocked with snow."

"Cut the excuses and just get her in there. The Inquisitor's losing their patience."

The thought of being on the receiving end of an Inquisitor's interrogation sent a fresh wave of dread coursing through her. She shadowed several during her studies, and even as a silent observer, it left her with a greater impression than any crime scene she'd witnessed. Merely standing in their presence was enough to unnerve even the most confident individuals. Cloaked from head to toe in black and equipped with amulets that distorted their voices, it was all too easy to forget they weren't horrific creatures of gloom come to reap the souls of the living, but humans in search of undeniable truths.

Daunting as it was, perhaps it was a good sign. If an Inquisitor wanted to speak with her, she may yet have a chance. She could only pray that was the case.

It was not the prison they led her into, but a large stone building crammed between two towering daubed houses. A pair of round tables stood on either side of the room, city maps and scattered papers strewn across the surface. A tapestry bearing the black, gold, and red of the kingdom's standard hung behind them. Wanted posters covered a small board stood near the door on the opposite side of the room.

They brought her to a Guard post, she realized.

Everna threw her escorts a sideways glance. The Inquisitors conducted their interrogations in the prisons, where there were rooms dedicated to such. Criminals, let alone civilians, couldn't enter the Guard posts unless on official business. She shouldn't be there.

Something wasn't right.

She kept that thought to herself as the guards ushered her into the short hall just off the main entrance. Racks of lances, swords, and a myriad of other weapons hung between the burning torches set into the walls. They passed a room filled with rows of cots, and another cluttered with crates and barrels. The sound of clanging swords rose from another.

Her escort stopped at the end of the hall. She barely had time to draw in a breath before they shoved her inside the room. This time, when she stumbled, it was into near darkness, the click of a lock ringing in her ears.