The Guardian’s Echo

A Shadow in the Stables: Soren

It was an old habit to inspect every inch of my room in the Singing Hills Inn. I locked the main door behind me. It was heavy and solid, unlike the thinner, more porous wood of the connecting door between my room and Penny’s. The walls were thick stone, and even with the lights off, I could see the moss growing in the corners and cracks.

There was a knock on the connecting door while I was unlacing my greaves, and I lifted my head. “Yes?”

The door creaked open and Penny stood there looking radiant in the candlelight. She’d pulled her boots off, and her cloak hung on the wall behind her. Her tunic hung loose past her hips, hanging down to mid-thigh. “This is kind of incredible, isn’t it?” she murmured, smiling. “I mean…I guess if you’re from here, you’re used to it. But… the perpetual music in the air… the wind really does sound like it could be flutes.”

“It could be the satyrs,” I reminded her, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of my lips. “There’s a group of them that’s lived in the woods near where we’re going for centuries.”

“Right.”

“You should get some sleep, Penny. The sun rises early, and the trail up into the Highlands can get steep in areas.”

“Thank you, Soren, for accompanying me.”

“Of course,” I had to fight my natural instinct to add ‘My Lady’ after my words. It was normal to view the queen’s mother as nobility, and to speak to her as such, regardless of where she came from. Penny didn’t seem to like it though. It was almost like she didn’t see her position in the court as real yet. Her humbleness was refreshing.

She sighed softly as she nodded. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Penny.” The doors between our rooms shut with a soft, wooden click. I could hear the soft shuffle of her feet across the carpet. A moment later, the muffled rustling of sheets sounded as she crawled into bed, the old frame groaning softly beneath her weight. I sighed softly and blew out my candle before lying flat on my back.

The door between our rooms was so thin that I could even hear the gentleness of her breathing as she settled into sleep. To a man who had spent centuries listening for the rasp of a blade or the heavy tread of an enemy, the sound of her soft snoring was oddly grounding. It was human, or at least, the part of her that the mortal world hadn’t let go of yet. It was more soothing than any elven melody could’ve been.

Despite the safety that a locked door should’ve provided, I couldn’t find my own peace. I laid there for hours, restless, looking up at the moss that webbed the ceiling. With a sigh, I pushed myself up and moved to the window. My room overlooked the inn’s stables where our horses were staying the night. The moon was high, turning the silver-grass roofs of Hillsong into mirrors.

As I looked out at the valley I’d left nearly two centuries ago feeling an unexplainable melancholy, a movement near the stables caught my eye. I leaned closer to the glass, squinting as I watched. My brow pulled together. Logic told me it was a stable hand or Bruneil checking the locks, or even a late night traveler. Their movements were strange though. They seemed to have a liquid grace that I didn’t associate with the Highlands.

The figure paused near a patch of moonlight, and the air around them seemed to flicker. It was like a heat haze, but even in the summer, the nights were too cool for that. Especially here in the hills. For a second, the figure seemed to blur, as if they were standing in a different moment in time.

Every instinct in my body was telling me to go down there. My fingers twitched, reaching for the dagger I kept at my waist. I looked back at the connecting door though. If I left, Penny would be unprotected, and if this strange person was a threat, I couldn’t leave her alone. If I sounded the alarm, and it did turn out to just be a villager, then I had exposed her identity even more.

Before I could decide what to do, the figure vanished. They didn’t walk away, they were just simply gone. A cloud had passed overhead, blocking out the moonlight for just a second, and when it cleared again, the courtyard was empty.

I knew I wouldn’t be able to sleep after that. I kept watch at the window, listening for any sound in the hallway that didn’t belong. By the time the first streaks of violet dawn started to stretch across the sky, I was exhausted, but the adrenaline had kept me going.

I could hear Penny start to stir in the other room. The soft rustling of fabric and the gentle thump of her boots as she dressed. I couldn’t tell her about the figure yet, not until I knew who or what they were. I didn’t want to destroy the hope I had seen in her eyes at the Waymarker, but I did set my resolve to teach her defense.

Her gentle rap sounded against the connecting door, and I glanced at my reflection before opening it. I hoped I didn’t look as weary as I felt. The door opened and she stood there, dressed almost as identically as she had been when we left the castle. Today, her brown leather pants had been replaced by a pair that were a much lighter shade, and her cream colored tunic was cinched around her waist by a leather belt. “Bruneil said last night that she serves breakfast for the guests in the mornings. Do you think that it’s too early?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “Gather your things though. If breakfast isn’t ready now, then by the time we’re ready to leave, we should be able to stop at a stall in the market before we leave the village.”

“Okay,” she smiled, and the door between us shut again.

I splashed water on my face from the small basin on the dresser. As the sun climbed higher, the exhaustion started to sink in. I couldn’t afford to rest now though. Not unless I wanted to explain why I hadn’t slept.

I waited in the hall outside of our rooms for her, and we descended the stairs together. We made it down into the main floor of the inn. The smell of biscuits and a thick, creamy oatmeal wafted through the open kitchen door.

“Smells like breakfast is almost ready,” Penny noted quietly, her lips curling upwards.

The common room was quiet, with only a few other early-risers peppered throughout the room. We sat at the same corner table we’d ate at last night, and Bruneil brought out bowls of heavy oatmeal topped with honey and toasted nuts. I was hyper-aware of every person in the room, watching the way they moved for any hint that they were who I had seen last night.

Every time the front door creaked, I had to fight the instinct to reach for a weapon. I watched Bruneil’s face for any sign that she saw someone in the night, but she was fully focused on Penny. Her eyes still held that ghost-seeing reverence from yesterday.

“The biscuits are heavenly,” Penny commented as she broke one apart. “Especially with the honey. You’re barely eating, here.” She held out half, honey slowly oozing off of it. “They’re so fluffy.”

I took the biscuit half, and watched her eat. She looked so at peace, but my mind was still at the window last night. I sighed deeply, feeling like the morning sun had brought the weight of the kingdom with it.

Once we were done, we headed out to the stables. I squinted, searching the ground where the figure had been while trying not to look like I was inspecting the courtyard. There were no footprints, no displacement of dust. Nothing. Not even a bent blade of grass. This was more disturbing to me than a footprint would’ve been.

I helped Penny mount Moonstride, checking her cinches twice. I looked up at her, and my voice was more stern than usual as I said, “Once we reach the higher plateaus, we’re going to do more than just rest, Penny. You need to learn how to use that dagger Anya gave you.”

“The dagger?” she repeated as I mounted Emberleaf.

I nodded. “I told you, I haven’t been in the Highlands in two centuries. I don’t know how things have changed.”