Eagle's Guard E-Book

Lindsey Stirling

• Herausgeber: Cookies and Oxygen Publishing
• Kategorie: Für Kinder und Jugendliche
• Serie: Eagle Rider Saga
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 696

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2017

Beschreibung

"Well, enjoy your afternoon in the real world," said Aiden, giving her a big grin. "I'm going for an adventure."

Seventeen year old Aiden has done what few others ever achieve: he has taught himself to wield the eighteen magical runes. He dreams of adventure, yet he feels trapped in his life as a cloakmaker's apprentice. Then one day, amidst the flames of a burning building, Aiden has a chance encounter with an Eagle Rider—one of the elite magical guardians of the kingdom. When the Eagle Riders go missing, Aiden finds himself caught up in a conspiracy surrounding a long dead wizard.

Untrained and torn apart from his family, Aiden must embark on a dangerous journey in the hope of rescuing the few people powerful enough to save them all.

Leseprobe

About the Book

"Well, enjoy your afternoon in the real world," said Aiden, giving her a big grin. "I'm going for an adventure."

Seventeen year old Aiden has done what few others ever achieve: he has taught himself to wield the eighteen magical runes. He dreams of adventure, yet he feels trapped in his life as a cloakmaker's apprentice. Then one day, amidst the flames of a burning building, Aiden has a chance encounter with an Eagle Rider—one of the elite magical guardians of the kingdom. When the Eagle Riders go missing, Aiden finds himself caught up in a conspiracy surrounding a long dead wizard.

Untrained and torn apart from his family, Aiden must embark on a dangerous journey in the hope of rescuing the few people powerful enough to save them all.

Contents

About the Book

Title Page

Contents

Copyright

Map of Teraan

The Runes

1. A Burning Building

2. A Tale of Fire and Magic

3. In the Ruins

4. Sign of the Brathadair

5. Summoned

6. In the Service of the Eagle Riders

7. Father and Son

8. Destiny

9. Swordmaster

10. The Message

11. Voices in the Dark

12. The Conspirators

13. Secrets

14. Treachery and Rebellion

15. Across the Wall

16. The Alder Gate

17. Left Behind

18. Torelia

19. Fugitives

20. Arrivals

21. Envoy of Eagles

22. Erin

23. A Council of War

24. Trust

25. Searching for Courage

26. Cairn Ban

27. The Battle for Torelia

28. Mountain and Sky

29. Into the Forest

30. Wings

Index of Illustrations

A Note from Lindsey

Acknowledgements

About the Author

Exclusive Sneak Peek of Book 2

Also Available

This novel is a work of fiction. Names and characters are the product of the author's imagination and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Text copyright © 2017 Lindsey Stirling

Illustrations copyright © 2017 Iain Stirling

Lindsey Stirling asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced, stored, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without prior written permission from the publisher, except as permitted under UK copyright law.

First published as an ebook by Cookies and Oxygen Publishing in 2017

First published as a paperback in Great Britain by Lindsey Stirling and Cookies and Oxygen Publishing in 2017

ISBN 978-1-912403-00-4 (ebook Edition)

ISBN 978-1-912403-01-1 (Original Paperback Edition)

ISBN 978-1-912403-11-0 (New Paperback Edition)

Ebook Version 3

Cover design by Iain Stirling

Cookies and Oxygen Publishing

www.cookiesandoxygen.co.uk

For Iain, fellow creator,

And for Mum and Dad

1. A Burning Building

With his fingertips, Aiden sketched a shape in the air. Lines of light appeared in the wake of his fingers and remained shimmering before him, a circle with a line struck through it. It was the magical rune of Ailm, the seer. He enclosed the rune between finger and thumb and looked through. It focused his gaze and the distant Silver Eagle jumped into view. The edge of each feather, the curve of its talons, and the sharpness of its beak became clear. Silver feathers rippled in the wind, wings spread wide, casting a shadow across the sun.

Aiden reached up, almost forgetting the great distance. As if it saw him the Silver Eagle swooped low, its eyes a flash of light. A Rider sat upon its back. Aiden squinted yet saw nothing but the silhouette of a person. The Eagle turned and gave an echoing call. Aiden’s heart thumped with a sudden certainty. The Eagle wanted him to go with it. He was meant to go with it.

He stepped to follow but something held him. The Eagle flew further away and he tried to twist free. There was a quiet thump as his blanket slid to the ground and he curled his toes against the cold. He squeezed his eyes shut, but it was too late. Pale light shone through his eyelids and his mother’s soft humming drifted up through the floorboards. He sat up, rubbing his face. A dull ache filled his chest, where moments before it had barely contained the wild beating of his heart. He shook his head and threw the rest of his blanket aside, walking quickly to the window.

Aiden opened the shutters with a creak, letting grey light seep into the room. He lifted a foot onto the windowsill and balanced there, one hand resting gently against the wooden frame above. His younger brother Andor shifted in his bed but did not wake. Aiden stood, ducking his head out of the window so that his face was almost pressed flat against the outside wall. Then he jumped, fingers catching the cool slates of the roof, toes finding familiar grooves in the stonework. He lifted himself onto the roof.

Aiden shivered in the dawn air as he scrambled over the slates. After a short way he laid himself down, leaning his head back. He wished he was back in his dream.

A bird wheeled above him and Aiden reached out a hand to sketch Ailm, the seer, in the air. Light shimmered behind his fingers, just as it had in his dream. He caught the rune in his hand and looked through, focusing on the bird. Black raven’s wings flapped back at him. Aiden sighed. The Silver Eagle, and its Rider, remained nothing but a dream.

Aiden let the rune fade and sat up. It seemed that no matter how much he wanted it, there was no escaping the real world. He looked out across Teraan City. Shadows fled the rising sun, racing across cobbled streets to hide in the alleyways or under the boughs of trees. Dew glistened in the gardens and dampened the earthen path that wound its way behind the houses.

The rhythmic thud of footsteps echoed along the street, followed by a patrol of the King’s soldiers on their dawn rounds. Aiden leaned forward watching as they passed, heads held high in their gleaming leather armour, the King’s crest, the winged crown encircling a tree, etched into their round shields. Black cloaks billowed out behind them, tiny runes for strength and protection sewn in silver thread along the edges of the cloth. Some of the cloaks were no doubt his father’s handiwork.

And would one day be his. Aiden slumped back onto the roof. Just a few months more and he would no longer be an apprentice but a cloakmaker. He tried to tell himself that there was nothing wrong with being a cloakmaker, but he could not shake the dream of the Silver Eagle. He wanted more.

Across the City, a sea of slate roofs spread before him, broken up by the jagged tops of trees and the cobbled canyons of streets. At its heart stood the tall stone buildings of the Restricted Zone and behind them a glimpse of the pink sandstone of the Palace. Aiden imagined an Eagle Rider, one of the great guardians of Teraan, taking flight from one of those turrets, soaring across the horizon to battle with a wild magic creature in a whirlwind of runes. His gaze swept with it across the City, past the great outer Wall and the houses beyond, to where the fringes of the City were consumed by the ever-whispering branches of the deep forest.

A lightness grew in his chest. What adventures awaited him out there? But Aiden stopped himself. His father was waiting for him.

Slowly, Aiden shuffled across the roof and sank to his stomach, lowering his feet and dropping down to the wooden ledge of his windowsill. He slipped inside the room and grimaced. Andor was gone and if his little brother was down before him then his father was certainly not going to be happy. Aiden threw on a change of clothes and took the stairs to the kitchen. The warm smell of oats filled the air and his mother, Kari, looked up from stirring the pot, her cheeks rosy in the glow of the fire. Aiden grabbed a few mouthfuls as he sped past, his mother raising her eyebrows at him.

Aiden slipped through the door into the workshop. Light shone in through the big window at the back and danced across the myriad of colours of cloaks and cloth hanging along the walls. The shop at the front of the room was empty, but behind the big wooden counter Aiden’s father, Brokk, stood at one of the smaller worktops. A cloak surrounded by spools of thread and frayed offcuts covered the surface before him and his nimble hands pushed a needle and thread through the earthy-red material. Andor leaned in next to him, his green eyes fixed on their father’s work.

“Sometimes Aiden,” said his father, not lifting his head, “it amazes me that your twelve year old brother still makes it down to work before you. And you’re the one who’s almost finished his apprenticeship.”

“I’m sorry,” said Aiden, stepping forward to stand by the worktop. “It was only a few minutes.”

“I’m not annoyed because you are late,” said Brokk, tying off his thread before looking up. “I’m annoyed at why you are late.”

Aiden set his mouth in a hard line and said nothing. Why today?

“You spend too much time up on that roof,” said Brokk. “You’ll be eighteen soon. How can I trust you to be your own man and take on more work in the shop, when I can’t even trust you to get through a simple day’s work without being distracted by magic?”

“Why do the runes have to be a distraction?” said Aiden. “We use them in our work, don’t we?”

Brokk drew in a slow, careful breath as he reached for a new spool. “Yes. We sew runes of thread into cloaks to give added strength or protection, but what you do is entirely different. You draw runes with light in the air. You’re calling directly upon the wild magic when you do that. That’s dangerous Aiden. Wizards train for years before mastering the art. If you got it wrong there’s no knowing what might happen to you. I don’t want you to wake up blind one morning… or worse.”

Aiden shook his head, his jaw tight. “That’s not how it works Dad. Using the runes makes it safe. They harness the wild magic so that it can’t go wrong.”

Brokk lifted his head. “I’m just worried you won’t know where the line between the two is. You can’t deny that magic has got you in trouble more than once in the past.”

Aiden looked down. Maybe it had, but not for a long time. “I’ll be careful, alright Dad? And I won’t let it get in the way of work.”

Brokk folded his arms, his brow furrowed. With a slow shake of his head his expression softened. He reached out an arm to pat Aiden on the shoulder. “Let’s put it behind us son. Now come, I have a job for you.”

Aiden followed his father over to the other workbench where jars of coloured powders were stacked neatly in rows. He sat heavily on the stool and avoided looking at his father as he set him the task of mixing dyes for a hunting cloak. The fine art of getting the colours just right, so that the wearer would be almost impossible to see in the woods, was one of the few skills Aiden had yet to learn before his apprenticeship was over. Yet why bother when a simple rune, drawn correctly with the right thought behind it, could do all that and more? Aiden clenched his fists, releasing them slowly. He would learn because that was what was expected of him, but he wished that just once his father would recognise his talent with the runes and let him actually use it.

Brokk left the brothers to their work, moving to the front of the shop to prop open the door. He stayed there, taking a seat on the far side of the big counter that split the room, a complex piece of sewing in his hands. Aiden dragged his eyes back to the dyes and tapped tiny amounts of the powders into a small bowl in front of him. He absently moved a spoon around the mixture tracing the shapes of feathers, his mind drifting back to the slow swoop of the Silver Eagle.

“When are you going to teach me another rune?” Andor whispered.

Aiden sat up straighter and glanced over at their father, but his greying head did not lift from his sewing.

“Didn’t you hear Dad?” Aiden whispered back. “If he’s not happy about me using runes, he’ll be even less happy about me teaching you.”

“But you can’t stop now,” said Andor, reaching across the workbench towards him. “You’ve only taught me three. There’s eighteen. And Dad’s not going to teach me any for work till I’m older.”

Aiden frowned at Andor and then glanced away. His brother reminded him too much of himself, and not just in appearance. His curiosity would be the ruin of him. “Maybe another day,” said Aiden.

Andor frowned. “When you were my age you’d already learnt all eighteen. Why do I have to wait?”

Aiden folded his arms. “If you want to teach yourself like I did, then feel free.”

Silence fell between them and their mother’s humming drifted through from the kitchen. Andor scowled, drawing back to his own worktop. Aiden watched him for a minute, trying not to smile at the deepening furrow between his brother’s green eyes. Maybe Andor would be different. Maybe he had more control over his curiosity. After all, if their places had been reversed, Aiden would not have been sulking about having to wait to learn, he would have been teaching himself. And he had, so that by the time he was nine he knew all the runes and by the time he was twelve he could use them all well.

Aiden turned back to his bench, trying to block out everything but the dyes in front of him. What was he trying to accomplish? Camouflage. Nothing more, nothing less. He added water to his first mixing, watching the colours run together into a muddy brown. It did not look quite right, but he took a scrap of cloth and dunked it in anyway. He wrung it out and laid it to dry. What did it need? Ailm, the changeling, his mind whispered. Or Onn, the craftsman. He pushed the thoughts away. It needed more green.

For the next few hours Aiden tried all sorts of combinations and created more variations of brown than he thought possible. But he could not get it right. And it did not help that silver tipped feathers tinged the edge of his vision.

Footsteps padded across the floor. “Not quite Aiden,” came his father’s voice.

Aiden looked up, but Brokk was already speaking to Andor. One of the travelling markets was in town. It did not surprise Aiden that his brother was going and not him. For a moment he felt a stab of regret. Then the tension in his shoulders began to ease. With his father gone he could take a relaxed lunch break and get his head straight. Maybe then the afternoon would go better.

The front door swung closed behind Brokk and Andor with a quiet thud. Aiden paused, then was on his feet, grabbing some food, up the stairs to the window ledge and climbing back up to the roof.

Aiden slumped down onto the slate roof and breathed in the warm pine-scented air. The patter of footsteps on the cobbles mixed with the gleeful cries of children playing. He wished he could be so free, but he would have to make do with these fleeting moments on the roof. He stretched out, letting the tension dissipate from his limbs, feeling the warmth of the slates soaking into him. His eyes flickered, lazily watching people as they walked by below. He was tempted to sleep, but suddenly his eyes went wide, dragging his body upright.

It was a girl. And she had vanished right before his eyes.

Or had she?

Aiden saw her a little way down the street, her steps bringing her closer to his house. She was hooded in a green cloak, a deep purple scarf wrapped over her nose and mouth. The long ends of her reddish-brown hair escaped around her shoulders. She stepped nimbly through the crowds as if some unseen force created a path for her. Then, as suddenly as she had appeared, she disappeared again.

Aiden sat up straighter, thoughts of sleep banished from his mind. He strained his eyes to catch a glimpse of the girl. Had no one else noticed her vanish? It seemed not, for those in the street carried on as if nothing extraordinary had just occurred.

Leaning forward, Aiden’s fingers traced the shape of Ailm, the seer. He brought the shimmering rune up to his face and peered down at the street. Where was she? Maybe he had imagined the whole thing?

Aiden lowered his hand, but just before he let the rune fade to nothing he caught the green flash of her hood. She emerged from his uncle’s bakery across the street with a hot pastry in hand. Aiden focused on her hooded head and gasped. Her cloak was like nothing he had ever seen before. It was speckled with the runes of Fearn, the shield, Iogh, the resilient, and Luis, the protector. And not runes like his father would sew. These were real runes, drawn with light.

No wonder she had been able to vanish with magic like that in her cloak. But where could she have acquired such a cloak? What sort of a person needed a cloak to make them invisible? Who was this girl?

Aiden scrambled across the roof and jumped into the branches of the pine tree in his back garden, swinging himself down to the ground. He slipped through the passage at the side of his house and walked casually out onto the street. Without Ailm he could not see the girl at first, but he found that as he concentrated she slowly came into view, eating her pastry in the corner of an alley. The runes in her cloak were not meant for true invisibility then, just clever concealment, otherwise he would never have seen her without the magic.

Aiden crossed the street and stepped through the doorway into the thick, sweet smell of the baker’s. He blinked as his eyes adjusted after the brightness of the street. Behind the counter stood Branwyn, his cousin, a small, wiry figure with long dark hair pulled back from her face. Aiden smiled.

“Hi Branwyn,” he said, leaning over the counter. He glanced around, checking that no one else could hear. “I need your help.”

“What for?” she replied, her blue eyes sparkling as she dusted floury hands on her apron and leaned in conspiratorially.

“There was a girl in here a minute ago and her cloak was covered in magic. And I don’t mean a few runes sewn around the edges. I mean it was covered in real runes. Enough to make her disappear. Don’t you find that strange?”

“Aiden, you think everything is strange,” she replied.

Grinning, Aiden leaned in closer. “Yes, but this is stranger than usual Bran. That girl is hiding something.”

Branwyn wrinkled her nose. “How do I help you?”

“What do you know about her?”

Branwyn shrugged. “She’s been here a few times before. Always has good money, but then so does everyone. I don’t know what you want me to say. I never noticed any magic.”

Of course not, Aiden thought. He had only seen the runes on her cloak by using runes himself. Branwyn had no such skill. He met Branwyn’s eyes. “Come with me. We’ll follow her, uncover her secrets.”

Branwyn laughed and shook her head. “Don’t be ridiculous Aiden. I have work to do and I’ll bet you do too.”

“It’s fine,” said Aiden. “This is what lunch breaks are for.”

“Well I’ve had my lunch already,” said Branwyn.

Aiden gave her a mock frown. “You’re no fun anymore Branwyn. We used to sneak off all the time exploring the City and tracking down runes, following around people who were much less strange than this girl.”

She just laughed at him again. “We can’t spend all our days having adventures. Sometimes we have to live in the real world.”

“Well, enjoy your afternoon in the real world,” said Aiden, giving her a big grin. “I’m going for an adventure.”

With that he left the bakery, screwing up his eyes against the sudden brightness. He ran a hand through his unruly brown hair and glanced to the place where the girl had been sitting. She was gone. But as Aiden focused on the empty spot she came into view. It was only the magic in the cloak bouncing his attention elsewhere. He looked away quickly, hoping he had not caught her attention, and watched her slyly from the corner of his eye.

The girl stood, tucking her scarf close around her neck. She looked both ways along the street before stepping out into the crowd, threading her way between two carts stacked with vegetables. Aiden walked after her, straining his neck to see her above the sacks of potatoes. If he lost sight of her just once he might never be able to find her again.

She continued on, dodging a group of children as they chased each other in and out of the alleys. Aiden stumbled as one of the young boys ran right under his feet. He looked up quickly, ignoring the boy’s angry chatter. Where was she? How could he have lost her already?

He saw Halfdan, the blacksmith, step out of his doorway, his face sooty and red, a pair of tongs, tips still glowing, in his hand. Halfdan waved and Aiden smiled at the man who had taught him Teine, the rune for fire. The blacksmith’s cat jumped down from the window ledge, trotting after something. He twined himself around someone’s ankles and the person reached out a hand from under a green cloak to rub his ears. Aiden laughed. His eyes may have lost her, but the cat was not to be fooled.

The girl stroked the cat for a few seconds longer before continuing along the street. She reached its end and took a left. Aiden followed. The street broadened and the girl moved swiftly and gracefully, flitting among the people like she was made of nothing but air. Aiden hastened his steps but was caught behind a cart laden with timber, the smell of freshly hewn branches filling his nose. He pushed his way past, muttering apologies at the shouts that followed him. Aiden fixed his eyes on the green hood ahead.

“Watch it,” cried a man, an armful of books and papers swirling into the air.

“Sorry,” said Aiden, ducking past and hurrying on before he could be made to help pick them up. He lifted his head, brows creased. He had taken his eyes off the girl.

He scanned the street. He had just passed the weathered stone buildings of the old barracks. Where would she be going? Lots of retired soldiers lived in this area but there were plenty of other people too. And too many of them seemed to be on the street. Aiden craned his neck. He wanted to use Ailm, the seer, but his father’s words rang in his mind. People were wary of the runes unless they were being used by a trained wizard or soldier. He narrowed his eyes, almost willing the rune to work without actually drawing it.

And then he saw her.

She was much further away, almost rounding the next corner, but she turned aside, her green hood disappearing through the door of a tall sandy-coloured building. Aiden ran after her. One building’s length away he slowed. What was he going to do when he got there? He stepped closer…

An ear-splitting crack rent the air. The building erupted sending shards of stone in all directions and a rush of hot air knocked Aiden to the ground.

The street filled with a cloud of dust billowing upwards in a swirling storm of grey that blocked out the sun. Aiden’s ears were left ringing and for a few seconds he clutched his head before the screams and cries began to filter through. His fingers shook as he rubbed dust from his eyes. All around people struggled to their feet, clutching at each other or brushing dust from their clothes, wide-eyed confusion on their faces. Moaning sounded from amidst the stone debris strewn across the street and someone cradled their arm to their chest, blood trickling between their fingers.

Aiden pulled himself to his feet, ignoring the sore places where he was bound to have bruises later. The acrid taste of smoke caught the back of his throat and he brought a hand up to cover his mouth and nose. He could hear others coughing nearby. Somewhere a voice called out for the Eagle Riders.

To Aiden’s right the bare shell of the tall sandstone building loomed through the haze. Its front wall was almost completely blown away, baring the building’s interior to the street and leaving the wooden floors sagging at a dangerous tilt. Already fire burnt in the ruins, licking its way skywards. Soon the whole building would be alight.

Aiden knew it was dangerous to stay, but something held him. Maybe, just maybe, the girl was still alive. His eyes strained to see through the filthy air, stinging as the smoke bit at them. On the third floor Aiden could barely make out the limp shape of a body. Was it her? Was she still alive? Yes! With shaking arms she rolled onto her side, sitting up and coughing. Runes flashed on a cloak of green.

The building groaned and shuddered. Flames crackled around the foot of the building, spitting sparks into the air as it devoured the furniture, tongues reaching for the wooden boards of the stairs. Distantly Aiden heard the heavy rattle of soldiers running. Would they make it before the fire took over? Even then, Aiden doubted it would be enough. They needed the Eagle Riders. It would take powerful magic to stop the fire and maybe more to save the people within. Aiden clenched his fists and looked to the empty sky.

They were not going to make it in time.

Aiden ran into the burning building. Flames billowed around him, the heat singeing his skin as he jumped through. He felt like he was going to be sick, but for some reason he could not abandon the girl. She was his responsibility.

He ran across the floor, climbing through heaps of rubble. Smoke stung his eyes, sending tears dripping down his face. He choked, his mouth almost too dry to breathe. The stairs stood ahead, floorboards splintered by falling stone, the banisters edged with soot. He took the first steps on his tiptoes. Chunks of wood dropped from the ceiling above, trailing fire. A floorboard snapped beneath his foot, swallowing his ankle. Aiden grabbed the banister, crying out as the heat seared through his hand. He gritted his teeth and pulled himself up, taking the steps two at a time until he reached the third floor.

The girl knelt near the open face of the building, hunched over the body of an older woman sprawled on the floor beside her. She shook the woman by her shoulders and brushed the hair and dust from her face. Aiden rushed to their side. The girl looked up, eyes wide, blue and bright with tears. Her hood had fallen down to reveal her long, reddish-brown hair, tangled and dirt-stained by the explosion.

“She won’t wake,” she said, her voice cracking. She wiped her cheek and Aiden wondered how she could look beautiful even with the layer of grime across her elegant face.

“Can you move?” said Aiden.

She pushed herself onto her feet, wincing as she almost lost her footing. Her gaze dropped to the woman. “She needs you more,” she said, her hands balling into fists. Her face was turned from him, her shoulders tensed. How could she be so brave?

“I’ll be back for you,” said Aiden. The fire was not so high yet. He would have time. She gave a tiny nod.

Aiden lifted the woman onto his shoulders, silently thanking his father for the hours spent lifting heavy reams of cloth. The woman stirred but did not awaken. Aiden moved quickly towards the stairs, sweat mixing with the dirt on his face. Dark smoke poured up the stairwell and he coughed, pulling up the collar of his shirt to cover his mouth. He started down the stairs, the crackle of flames growing louder. The building groaned again and gave a violent spasm. Aiden swayed to the side, straining against the weight of the woman. He righted himself and hastened on, the black tendrils of smoke becoming flickering reds and oranges as he descended.

A few feet from the ground Aiden pulled back. The bottom steps were gone. For a moment he stood frozen. The fire cracked to his right, spitting sparks, the air scorching his face. Aiden jumped. He landed heavily, staggering forward and twisting his body before both he and the woman fell into the flames. A few more steps and then he burst through the jagged gap of the doorway into the arms of a person. He could not get his eyes to focus, but he felt the weight of the woman lifted from his shoulders.

Aiden turned, shielding his eyes against the glare of the blaze. The image of the girl burned in his mind stronger than the fire. He had promised to go back for her.

A soldier of the City Guard caught his arm. “It’s too dangerous boy. I’m sorry, but whoever’s still in there is as good as dead.”

“No!” Aiden shook free of the man’s grasp. She would die if he did not go back.

Once more Aiden jumped through the flames. Ahead fire consumed the wooden boards of the stairs, glowing brilliant shades of red and white, threatening to crumble more of the steps to ash. The heat seared his skin through his clothes. It felt like the very air was being sucked from his lungs. He drew Peith, the swift, a zig-zag of light and threw the rune at his feet. He ran and leapt with all his might, urging Peith to carry him over the void where the bottom steps had been, the fire leaping after him.

Aiden’s feet landed solidly, the step splintering underneath him. Using both hands and feet he propelled himself forward taking three steps at once, the speed of Peith coursing through his limbs. Wood crumbled beneath his feet, flaking away in clouds of ash as the fire licked at his heels.

He passed the second floor, a tremor racing up behind him, cracking the already charred and weakened wood. Aiden pushed himself faster, muscles burning. Something snapped and jerked him to the side. Then the stairs dropped from underneath him.

Aiden jumped, reaching out with both hands as the speed of Peith carried him on. The floor above loomed closer and his arms caught the edge. He screamed as he slid back. His fingers clawed at the floor, finally snagging on a groove in the wood. He jerked to a halt, his body dangling over an abyss.

With a cry Aiden hauled himself up and crawled away from the edge. He looked down at his shaking hands. If he had missed… If he had fallen… He turned his head, swaying as dizziness washed over him.

“You came back,” whispered the girl.

Aiden got to his feet and took a few shaky steps towards her. They were not safe yet. Not by a long way. The way out was gone.

He grabbed the girl’s hand and pulled her to her feet. He drew Dair, strength, and placed it in her open palm, watching as the slanting line and wide zig-zag of the rune spread its golden light through her body. She pulled back from him, fixing him with an unwavering stare. Whether she was angry or afraid or just plain surprised, Aiden could not tell. “Can you walk now?” he said.

She took a hesitant step and nodded, glancing down at her leg.

The floor shuddered. A splintering crack ripped through the building. Aiden staggered forwards, catching the girl’s flailing arm before she tumbled backwards. He held her tight, a wave of dizziness washing over him. They were going to die. To jump down would kill them both instantly. To wait would be to succumb to the fire. He looked at the girl and saw the same thoughts reflected in her eyes. No. He forced the thoughts away. He was not going to give up.

A glimpse of silver caught his eye and Aiden saw what he had not noticed before. The stairs continued up.

With the girl’s hand clasped firmly in his, Aiden pulled her towards the stairs. Below them part of the floor cracked and broke off, crashing down through the flames. The girl stumbled, crying out and grasping her leg. Aiden pulled her back to her feet, dragging her onto the stairs as flames devoured another floorboard. He put her arm around his shoulders and half lifted her up the steps. Flames caught below them, racing up the dry wood, trying to devour them.

At the top they crossed the room to the nearest window which was somehow still intact, the glass shining with the heat. Aiden cast around for something, anything, that would clear their path before the fire reached them. He grabbed a chair and swung it, smashing the glass. The roar from below grew louder, as if the fire was straining to catch them. Aiden climbed onto the windowsill. Vague shouts rose up from the ground, but he refused to look down. The girl leaned out after him and watched as he pulled himself onto the roof. He rolled onto his stomach, reaching back down.

“Take my hands,” Aiden shouted.

She hesitated, then firmly pressed her lips together and climbed onto the windowsill, reaching up to grab his hands. Her grip was strong as she pulled herself up beside him. Together they crawled up the steep slope of slate to the top of the roof and stood looking out. A gaping smoke-filled chasm lay between them and the next building. There was nowhere else to go. They had outrun the fire into a dead end. All that remained was for the flames to eat them up with the rest of its prize.

A mighty crash sounded and the whole world seemed to tremble. Aiden took the girl’s hand in his, her touch cool after the heat of the fire. Their eyes met and for a moment Aiden could almost forget that he was about to die. The blue of her eyes was like a cloudless sky, her hair like autumn leaves swirling in the wind. Her grip tightened on his.

“It’s a good view from up here,” said Aiden, forcing a smile to his lips.

Her mouth twitched and if the circumstances had not been so dire he imagined she might have smiled back. “Yes,” she said. “If it wasn’t for the smoke.”

The roof shifted beneath their feet and they fell against each other. Aiden caught hold of her, refusing to let her fall even at the last.

Then the building collapsed.

2. A Tale of Fire and Magic

The building juddered and dropped suddenly, Aiden’s stomach lurching into his mouth. The girl tightened her arms around him, as if somehow, together, they might live. Her whole body trembled, her head of tawny hair buried in his chest. Aiden wrapped his arms tight around her, unable to stop the shaking in his own limbs. Slates slipped away beneath their feet. These were the last seconds of his life. His throat tightened at the thought of his family waiting for his return that would never come.

Stone cracked and wood splintered, the roof splitting apart beneath them. They fell down amidst the rubble. Acrid smoke billowed up, searing Aiden’s lungs and blurring his vision. He longed to see the sky just one last time. He did the only thing he knew and frantically sketched a rune in the air. The curved lines of Eadha, the wind, swirled around them with a thunderous roar, sweeping aside wood and stone and lifting them out of the reach of the flames.

For a second they rose up from the building, Aiden casting rubble aside with the current of Eadha. He reached for the sky, but he was tired, so very tired. His eyes streamed and flickered. As if from a great distance away he felt the solid glow of the rune slip from his fingers. They floated for a moment and then they were falling once more, back down through the rubble, past the stairs they had so frantically climbed.

The cry of an Eagle pierced the flames and a shadow swooped, breaking through the clouds of smoke. A twisting rope dropped down into the maelstrom, flashing past Aiden’s face. With a speed that surprised himself, he grabbed the rope, still clinging to the girl with his other arm. They jerked to a halt, swinging over the void that had once been the third floor. A horrible tearing ripped through Aiden’s shoulder as he took their weight. He cried out but somehow held on to both the rope and the girl.

The walls dropped around them and Aiden flinched back from falling rubble. Flames leapt towards them, but they rose skywards, away from the crackling heat until blue horizon broke through. Aiden closed his eyes, gritted his teeth and tried not to think of the pain or the height as the Eagle carried them away.

Aiden’s feet hit solid ground and his eyes jolted open. He tried to stand, but his legs buckled beneath him and he collapsed sideways onto the cobbles, the girl rolling limply out of his grasp. His other hand still fiercely gripped the rope, a dull throb pulsing along his arm. People he did not know crowded around them. He ignored their meaningless babble, blinking through smokey tears to focus on the girl. He was alive, but was she?

She lay on the cobbles, her cloak tangled around her body. Her eyes were closed, her face pressed to the ground, almost peaceful. Aiden’s throat tightened. Then he saw her chest rise with the tiniest of breaths. Aiden let his head roll back. She was alive.

Soldiers pushed through the crowd, hands reaching down to lift her up and carry her away. Aiden opened his mouth, trying to speak. What was her name? Who was she? But a violent cough racked his body and he rolled onto his front, pain spiking along his arm. His mouth tasted like ash.

Someone stepped into his vision. From his position on the ground all Aiden could see was a pair of boots, well-worn but still slightly ornate. He squinted up at the man who occupied the boots. He had a weathered face with wind-worn cheeks, yet his armour was intricately made and even Brokk would have envied the fine blue cloak on his back. A few paces behind him, oddly out of place in the middle of the street, was a Great Eagle, golden feathers shining through the grey air. He was an Eagle Rider.

The Rider dropped to a crouch next to him. “Are you hurt?”

Aiden put a hand to his left shoulder, the ache sharpening as he acknowledged it. He tried to sit up but winced as his raw and blistered hands touched the ground. Dizziness washed over him.

The Rider helped him up and held him steady.

“Thank you,” Aiden rasped. “You…” He bowed his head. “You saved my life.”

“And you saved two others,” said the Rider with a smile.

Aiden opened his mouth to speak, but he did not know what to say.

“Here, drink this,” said the Rider, lifting a bottle to his lips.

The cool water burst down his throat and Aiden gulped at it until he choked. The Rider beckoned someone over, taking a wet cloth and a bundle of fabric from them. Then he took Aiden’s hands and began to dab away the sticky blood. Aiden gritted his teeth and tried not to flinch.

“You’ve done extremely well today,” said the Rider. “What’s your name?”

“Aiden Brokksson,” said Aiden. It was unfathomable that this man of legend had saved his life and was even speaking to him. Over the Rider’s shoulder he caught a glimpse of the Eagle watching the street, yellow eyes blinking slowly above the sharp hooked beak.

“What brought you to this fateful street?” the Rider asked.

Aiden winced as the Rider spread a salve over his hand. “I was just passing through.” He had no intention of revealing his real purpose. It all seemed so foolish now.

Other Eagle Riders now circled the blaze throwing down runes of Suil, water, and Eadha, the river. The curving lines of the runes arced over the building, shimmering like rainbows in the mist, then bursting into rain as they fell. Aiden’s eyes widened and his skin tingled as if the air around him was filled by the power of the runes.

“How did you know there were people in there?” the Rider asked.

Aiden’s mind went blank momentarily. “I… I just saw her go in.”

The Rider nodded slowly. The building rumbled and a cloud of dust billowed out as another section of wall collapsed. Aiden flinched. He had been inside that only minutes before. The Eagle Riders flying above threw down more runes dampening the flames and smoke.

“Why did the building explode?” said Aiden, turning sharply to the Eagle Rider.

The Rider looked at him, head tilted slightly back as if to see him better. “I don’t know.” He leaned in then, knotting the last bandage around a cut on Aiden’s arm, before laying a hand gently on his uninjured shoulder. “You’ll live.”

The Rider turned back to his Eagle. “Wait,” Aiden called after him. “What about the girl and the woman? Will they be alright?”

The Eagle Rider smiled over his shoulder. “Because of you, I think so.”

“Who were they?” said Aiden, but his words were drowned by another rumble from the building. The Rider ran the last few steps to his Eagle before swinging himself nimbly onto its back. The Eagle’s wings flexed, muscles bunching as it lifted itself into the air. Aiden’s heart leapt with it. All the stories he had heard as a boy could not match the awe of seeing an Eagle Rider with his own eyes.

A foot scuffed behind him and Aiden dragged his eyes from the sight. A young soldier stood there. “I’m to see you home,” he said.

Aiden nodded, letting his eyes close briefly before standing and following the soldier away from the burning building. His feet dragged like deadweights beneath him. What had just happened? He fingered the bandage on his arm, following it up to the tattered and blackened threads of his shirt. How had he even survived?

“Aiden!”

A familiar head of thick brown hair pushed through the crowd towards him. Aiden wearily waved before turning to the soldier. “I’ll be fine from here.”

The soldier nodded and began to retrace his steps.

Branwyn burst upon him, breathless. “Aiden, I’m so glad I found you.” Her face danced as she spoke. “I tried to find you after I heard the explosion, but your Mum said you hadn’t come back after lunch.” She stopped and frowned, looking him up and down. “Aiden, you stink and you look like a mess.” She took his arm and inspected his bandaged hands and various other injuries, causing Aiden to flinch. “Did the girl do this?”

“No. That was the explosion.”

Branwyn’s mouth dropped open and she stared at him, eyebrows raised. “You mean…”

Aiden started his slow walk along the street again. Everything was too much effort. He just wanted to be home. Branwyn ran a few steps to catch up with him. She put an arm round his waist and he gratefully leant on her shoulders.

“You look terrible,” she whispered. “And you sound awful too.”

“I’ve been through fire,” said Aiden, laughing. He coughed as smoke caught in his throat. It still felt like his lungs were full of ash.

“So what happened?” said Branwyn, watching him intently. Aiden gave her a sideways smile. She scowled at him. “Come on. Tell me.”

“Well, after I left you I followed the girl to a house near the old barracks. I never found out what she was doing. The building exploded almost as soon as she went inside.”

Branwyn’s hand tightened on his waist. “Is that how you got injured?”

Aiden shook his head. “The blast only knocked me over. I got these,” he gestured to his bandages and charred shirt, “when I went in to get her out.”

“You did what?” said Branwyn, gawking at him.

“No one else was doing anything to help,” said Aiden. He wondered if he should mention the other woman he had saved too, but Branwyn’s awed gaze was already making him uncomfortable. “By the time I got to her the fire was really bad and we had to go up to the roof. Honestly I thought we were going to die. There was nowhere else to go.” Aiden gave an involuntary shudder, as he remembered that moment of hopelessness when he thought there would be no escape. He could still feel the rumbling under his feet and the blackness of the air as the smoke enveloped them.

“But how did you get out?” said Branwyn, a frown creasing her brow.

“An Eagle Rider saved us,” said Aiden.

“An Eagle Rider!” said Branwyn, eyes widening. “What was he like?”

Aiden smiled at the memory. “Really he was just a man, but he felt like so much more. And he was kind. He bandaged me up. Anyone could have done that, but he did it.”

“And the Eagle?” said Branwyn.

“Magnificent,” said Aiden, remembering the brief glimpse of the sleek golden feathers, the curved beak and the hard, glinting eyes. “Just like you would have imagined from all the old stories.”

“Wow,” Branwyn whispered. “I wish I had been there to see that.”

Aiden smiled again, knowing that he would never forget his encounter with the Eagle and its Rider. It was the same sense of longing and excitement that he felt when he dreamed of the Silver Eagle. Aiden looked to the sky, expecting to see a Great Eagle, but there was nothing but hazy blue tinged with smoke.

“So tell me about the girl,” said Branwyn, giving Aiden a playful smile. “What was she like?”

“There’s not much to say,” said Aiden with a small shrug. “It’s not like we had much chance to chat.”

“No?” said Branwyn, turning her face to him, one eyebrow raised. “You must have found out something.”

“She was brave,” said Aiden. And beautiful, he thought, turning away to hide the tug of a smile around his mouth. Branwyn would only tease him.

“Oh, brave,” said Branwyn, poking him in the side and smiling up at him.

Aiden frowned. She was going to tease him anyway.

“And what was her name?”

Aiden frowned. “I don’t know.”

“Didn’t you ask her?” said Branwyn, giving him that smile again.

“I didn’t get a chance,” said Aiden. “By the time we were safe she was unconscious. Her injuries were much worse than mine and the soldiers took her away so quickly."

Branwyn was silent for a moment. “It sounds like you were lucky.”

Aiden nodded.

“Do you know what caused the explosion?” Branwyn asked, her voice quieter now.

“I don’t know,” said Aiden, frowning again. “I asked the Eagle Rider, but he never really answered my question.” And why would he? He was no one special.

They turned onto their home street, the shadows lengthening around them. Branwyn walked Aiden right up to his door before removing her arm from his waist. Aiden smiled gratefully at her. “Thanks Bran.”

She returned his smile and turned to make the short walk across the street to her own home. Aiden reached out to push the door open, then stopped, turning back to Branwyn.

“I’m sorry about this morning,” he called over to her. “It wasn’t fair to ask you to come when you were working.”

Branwyn looked back at him. “It’s alright,” she said, smiling. “I did want to come, it’s just my father would have been annoyed and… oh you know.”

Aiden nodded, grimacing. “I’ve got my own father to face now.”

“Good luck,” said Branwyn, laughing.

Aiden gathered his thoughts and opened the door to his house. His father was sitting by the counter, a slim silhouette in the candlelight, waiting for him. He stood up quickly as the door swung open, a sharp frown on his face. But almost instantly Brokk’s expression changed, his step faltering. He reached out towards Aiden, taking him gently by the shoulders.

“What on earth happened son?”

Aiden sighed. He wondered where to begin and what even to say. Should he tell his father he had been chasing a girl? Should he tell his father why? Brokk would not want to hear that runes were involved. But if he did not mention the runes, his father would think him a fool for getting into such a mess over a mere girl. And if he did not mention either, how could he explain his actions?

A gasp sounded from the kitchen doorway and Aiden’s mother rushed over to him, her fingers brushing over his tattered and blackened clothes and hovering over his bandaged arm. Her eyes met his.

“I’m fine Mum.”

Kari shook her head. “No you’re not. Now come through and sit down.”

His mother led him through to the kitchen and sat him down at the table. Aiden sunk into a seat, gratefully lifting his weight from his tired feet. Andor looked up at his arrival, his mouth dropping open. Brokk followed them through, standing over the table.

“So where have you been Aiden?” said Brokk.

“I didn’t mean to be so long,” said Aiden. He looked down at his red raw hands under the table feeling the blood pulse under his skin. It had been easy to tell Branwyn the whole truth, but why could it not be easy now?

Brokk folded his arms. “You disappeared for most of the afternoon and now you come home looking like… like this.”

Aiden pressed his lips together. He could not—no would not—lie to his family. No matter how much they might hate the truth. He looked up. “I saw something when I stopped for lunch. It was a girl in the street and she wore a cloak covered in runes. So many runes for secrecy that people hardly even saw her…”

“I should have known it would be magic,” Brokk said, shaking his head. “It’s always magic that gets you into trouble.”

“Who said I was in any trouble?” said Aiden, raising his voice in return. Why did his father always jump to conclusions? Why did he even bother trying to tell him the truth?

Kari put a hand on her husband’s arm. “Let him finish his story Brokk.”

Brokk frowned but fell silent.

Aiden scowled at him. “I was curious so I followed the girl further into the City. But the house she went into exploded.” He paused, his skin prickling at the memory of the fire, the girl’s scared blue eyes looking up at him. “I went in to rescue her,” he said quietly.

His family stared at him, utterly silent. No one moved.

“Did you save her?” Andor asked, biting the tips of his fingers.

“She wasn’t the only one there,” said Aiden. “There was an older woman, who was unconscious, so I had to help her first. By the time I went back for the girl, we were trapped. An Eagle Rider saved us both.”

Andor’s eyes grew wide. “You met an Eagle Rider,” he said in wonderment.

Aiden nodded, half smiling.

Brokk took a step closer to Aiden so that he was looking into his eyes. “Believe me son, it was a brave thing you did, going after that girl.” Brokk nodded. “But it was also a reckless thing. You can’t just go running off chasing runes and putting yourself in danger. You’re not a wizard or an Eagle Rider. You have duties here.”

Aiden’s throat tightened. Even after the whole story, all his father seemed to care about was work and responsibilities.

“It wasn’t magic that caused any of this…” said Aiden quietly, leaving the rest of his sentence unsaid. He did not have the heart to tell his father that it was a dream of the Silver Eagle that had taken him up to the roof. A dream of adventure. Of something more than cloakmaking.

“Aiden you were almost killed today,” said Brokk, throwing his arms out wildly.

Kari put a calming hand on his arm. “Enough Brokk. He’s had a hard day. And your son saved two people’s lives. Just be proud of him.”

“I am proud,” said Brokk, gazing at Aiden, his eyes shining. “I’m just afraid that one of these days he’s going to get himself killed because of magic. It was bad enough when you were only nine and I had to come and get you from the Restricted Zone. You were all bruised and blackened from the runes they had thrown at you. And I thought then, I never want to see my son like that again.”

Aiden looked up at his father and wished he did not have to put him through this pain. But magic had saved him today. It was the runes that had given him the speed to outrun the fire. It was the runes that had bought him and the girl those extra few seconds before the Eagle Rider arrived. He had tried to ignore the dreams of the Silver Eagle. He had tried to focus on his work. But after today how could he go back to that life when he knew, with a deep certainty, that something more was possible?

3. In the Ruins

Aiden writhed under his blankets and then suddenly froze. His eyes flicked open and slowly focused on the wooden rafters above his head. No flames scorched the walls. No smoke poured up through the floorboards. Only the four familiar walls, the battered brown chest, and Andor’s bed against the next wall. Andor still slept, his body rising and falling gently with each breath.

Pale light shone through cracks in the wooden shutters. Aiden listened for any other noises, but there were none. It was still early. He closed his eyes again. It was the second night since the fire and the second night that the dreams had plagued him.

With a groan, Aiden sat up, every muscle in his body protesting the movement. He shivered a little as he left the heat of his blankets, but was grateful for the cool touch of the air on his fiery skin. A sheen of sweat plastered his forehead, as if there really had been a fire in his room during the night. He flexed his fingers, wincing as the skin of his palms tugged at the movement. The burns were healing but not fast enough for his liking. He swung his legs out of bed and gingerly pulled a clean shirt over his head. He paused, pressing his hand into his shoulder and biting down the pain. It was swollen to almost twice its normal size.

Standing slowly, he finished dressing and walked quietly to the window, easing open the shutters. The grey light of pre-dawn swept into the room and he leaned out over the windowsill. The garden was swathed in shadow and above him the roof lay inviting, calling him up to his usual perch. He dropped his head. It would be stupid to try.

Andor rolled over and squinted at his brother through sleepy eyes. “What are you doing Aiden?”

“Wishing I was up there,” said Aiden, turning to face his brother.

Andor rubbed his eyes. “Can’t you use runes to help?”

Aiden shook his head and touched his shoulder. “I think it would still hurt.”

Andor frowned, laying his head back on his pillow and shutting his eyes.

Aiden gave a small smile. He walked slowly from the room and downstairs to the darkened kitchen. He stoked the dying embers of the fire causing a spark to jump. He dropped the poker and stepped back suddenly. Was that how the fire had started, with someone simply causing sparks to fly, or had someone meant for it to happen? Aiden rubbed his brow and turned, taking the back door out to the garden. He sat down on the wooden bench below the workshop window, dew seeping into his trousers. Why would someone want to cause a fire?

He leaned his head back against the wall. Why would someone wear a cloak of runes? Who was the girl? And what was she doing there? He closed his eyes and pictured her tousled red-brown hair and tear-stained blue eyes. If he had not been on the roof that lunchtime, he would never have seen her. If he had not dreamed of the Silver Eagle the night before, he would never have been on the roof. And she would be dead.

The door clicked and Aiden’s eyes sprang open. His father stepped out to throw away a bowl of old dyeing water. The water splashed into a muddy puddle on the ground. Brokk turned and jumped at the sight of Aiden, a short laugh escaping his lips.

“You’re up early son.”

Aiden shrugged. “I’m always up early.”

“Surely not this early?” said Brokk, raising his eyebrows.

“I was awake anyway,” said Aiden.

Brokk frowned. “Did you dream about it again?”

Aiden nodded.

“Give it time,” said Brokk, taking a step towards him. “It will get easier.”

The dreams, yes, thought Aiden, but would the not knowing just keep eating away at him?

“Come on in,” said Brokk. “Your Mum’s put on the porridge.”

Aiden followed his father inside. The cosy glow of the fire danced across the familiar stones of the kitchen walls. Kari dropped the wooden spoon in the pot hanging over the fire and came to place her hands on either side of his shoulders.

“How are you feeling?” she said, looking into his eyes.

“Fine,” said Aiden.

“That shoulder’s still swollen,” said his mother, pressing her fingers to it.

“And sore,” said Aiden, shrugging out of her grasp. A dull throb was already emanating from the core of his muscles.

“How are the hands?” said Brokk, peering over Kari’s shoulder.

Aiden spread his hands palm up, skin stinging as it pulled against half healed blisters.

Brokk winced. “You won’t be working with those for a few more days yet.”

Kari spooned some porridge into a bowl and clunked it onto the oaken tabletop. Aiden slipped onto the bench to eat, his father taking the seat next to him. Aiden shuffled, trying to find a comfortable position, but he felt trapped. It was like his father was trying to keep him from getting into any more trouble.