Morgan felt a warm breeze caress the back of her neck as she stood on the edge of the town of Harlow. The Kings Road behind her was busy with horses, wagons, and people. The large Sendaran stallions wheezed their dismay as they pulled the heavy wagons with sacks of grain and corn from one village to the other. The people laughed and screamed, following each other in either direction of the road.

The unity of sounds filled her ears while she observed the unusual group of men and women that stood before her. All were suspected of a crime and were now rounded up from the town's prison to be hoarded off to the capital for the Crown's judgment. Most of them stood silent, shivering despite the warmth of the midday sun heating up the cobblestones beneath their feet. Some, though, eyed the array of weapons on her belt--weighing the chance they had of escaping with their lives.

"Stay in line," she hissed at them. She clenched her hand tighter around the whip attached to her belt. Her jaw was tensed as she let her gaze pass all of them. A gaze hardened over years and years of training.

In response, the men and women cowered behind each other. Fear contorted their faces as their eyes shot from her to the other wardens standing around them. A unified, defeated sigh left their throats.

Morgan knew what she looked like to these people--what she was trained and dressed to look like--and it made her feel powerful. The raven emblem shining brightly on her black uniform reminded everyone of what she could do. It reminded them of who she was.

She was part of the King's Special Legion. She was a warden in the Black Guard.

She could kill them before they even had time to blink.

She had been like these people once, though. Miserable and hungry and afraid. When she was just nine years old, she had been plucked from the streets of Kendahir, a large city in the Woodlands of Oberon. She had been brought before the Wizard King, just like these people would be, and he had offered her a chance. A chance of a better life--a chance to be more than the thief she was.

She had taken it without hesitation.

Since that day, now eleven years ago, she had trained day in and day out until she was bruised from head to toe and even her bones ached. There had barely been time to think about anything other than her training and the promise of upcoming war with the kingdom of Narin. Together with countless of others, she had lived in the city of Garren until she had mastered every lesson, every weapon, every muscle in her body--until she was as deadly without a weapon as she was with it.

"You have no right to treat us like this," one of the prisoners spat at her feet, waking Morgan from her thoughts. He tugged at the bonds that tied him to one of the horses of her fellow wardens and snarled at her. "We are not cattle you can push around."

"You are criminals," she said calmly, raising a brow at him as a warning. "So you shall be cattle until the Crown decides otherwise. Until the King deems you worthy again," she added for all of them to hear. She could still see the defiance in the young man's eyes and even around him the hope of returning home slowly ignited. One look at her uniform usually had people thinking twice about speaking up, but perhaps today would be different.

This man, barely older than she was, would be different.

"See this as your first warning, prisoner. I will not give you another one," she said, pulling the whip from her belt. Hope quickly turned to fear again and the people shrank, not wanting to attract her attention. Even though she held the whip tightly in her hand and would use it if she had to, she wasn't heartless. Some of the prisoners probably didn't have a choice when they committed their crimes. There had been a time when she didn't have one either. So she let him decide for himself whether trying to escape would be worth her wrath.

His jaw was tensed, anger reflecting in his clear, grey eyes. She had never seen such determination before. It seemed to burn deep within him and she knew he hated her with every fiber of his being. But by the way his fingers stopped twitching, she could tell that he would not try to run. Not today at least. Soon, his shoulders slumped and a sigh escaped his lips. She nodded once and smiled to herself, knowing that even the worst of men could be tamed.

When all the prisoners had been collected from their cells, Morgan pulled herself onto her horse. A small group of prisoners was tied behind her in a row. They were dragged along as she spurred her mare into motion. She heard the grunts and protests behind her but ignored it. Most of them deserved whatever fate lie in wait in Aerilon. It had been years since she felt any kind of remorse for her actions.

That, along with all other emotions, had been beaten out of her even before she joined the Black Guard.

"It's going to be a long two days," it sounded beside her. A young man with dark, almost black, hair rode up to her. A sigh escaped his lips and fatigue was written on his face. It was only a two days ride to the capital, but for the past few weeks, they had ridden from one town to the next to collect all the criminals from the prisons. Sometimes without any rest at all. Even Morgan felt the strain of it in her muscles as her horse moved at a steady pace.

"As if the last two days weren't long enough, Carter," a sharp, yet kind voice objected before Morgan could respond. As she looked to her left, she could see Nesryn joining them, a group of prisoners in tow. Her soft, red curls bounced on her shoulders as they continued the journey onto the Kings Road together.

"Well, I for one am glad to be on the road again after all that time in Garren to train new recruits," Morgan said. "I'm sure Ronan will give us a few days of rest once we arrive in Aerilon."

"Our dear captain will put us to work, you mean," Nesryn scoffed, her brow creasing in bottled up anger. "Ever since that prick was promoted he's been using us to get in the king's good graces."

"He's from one of the Great Houses. He's already in the king's good graces," Carter objected. "Besides, you're just mad at him because he's been ignoring you ever since you warmed his bed in Garren."

"Shut your lying mouth, Carter. That happened only once and we both agreed that it should never happen again."

"Sure you did," Carter laughed. "Is that why I saw you sneaking out of his room every night?"

"Mother help you, you lying bastard. I will cut your tongue out and feed it to the pigs if you don't-"

"Will you two stop bickering," Morgan intervened, keeping her voice low but stern and letting her eyes shift between her two friends. "The prisoners are all looking at us. Do I need to remind you of what happened last time the captain caught you fighting?"

Nesryn shot Carter a murderous glare but nodded at Morgan's words. She quickly evaded her eyes from him and flicked her hair over her shoulder before spurring her horse to ride faster. Beside Morgan, Carter still smiled, knowing that this time he had won the argument.

Most of the time that didn't happen.

"You know better than to vex Nesryn," she said to him. "She'll do much worse to you than the captain every could if you keep at it."

"I know, I know," he sighed, though shrugging his shoulders. "It's just too much fun. After all this time on the road, I think we all need some fun. These people are depressing," he continued, looking over his shoulder towards the group of prisoners behind him. Tight shackles were wrapped around their wrists and with a strong, thick rope they were tied to each other and Carter's horse.

Morgan followed his example, seeing the people swallow hard underneath her gaze. Dirt covered parts of their faces and their matted hair and filthy clothes told her enough of the life they'd had. The same life she'd once had.

She quickly turned back to the road before her, focusing on the landscape and the people around her. Side by side the Black Guard led the group of prisoners from all over Sendara across the Kings Road. On either side of the long road, tall trees reached out towards the sky. The Ash Forest stretched far and wide on her left--eventually flowing into the Woodlands of Oberon--while the Fell Mountains and the surrounding groves could be seen in the distance on her right.

The large mountain range was almost larger than the Gularan Mountains and connected the lands of Sendara with the kingdom of Narin. Even in the brightness of day, Morgan could see the vibrating lights of the Rift spreading across the horizon in hues of green and blue.

She tried to keep her mind from going to the dark memories she didn't want to remember. She fought against it. Yet, not even the beautiful patterns of light the Rift created on the Sidra river that flowed beside the Kings road stopped her mind from wandering.

She'd been hoarded off to Aerilon like this once. Tied up to a horse as a small child to be taken towards the Wizard King. A man she had feared then and still wasn't comfortable around now. They hadn't taken her because she had stolen food to fill her empty stomach. Not even because she had broken into one of the homes to find shelter from the summer storms. Instead, they had brought her before the king because of the Magic flowing in her veins.

The Wizard King was always looking for Gifted youth. Children that still had the ability to channel the power of the Spirits, despite the fading of Magic--children that he could train, mold into weapons and send off to war.

While some had told Morgan it was as much of a prison as the one she had been taken from, she had always seen it as a blessing. An opportunity to rise above the streets she was born in. A chance to become as powerful as any of the nobles.

Though, while she was more adept with any kind of weapon than they would ever be, she could only touch a sliver of the Magic the Wizard King had. She could read a young child's thoughts if their mind was still open, but nothing more than that. For the rest of the Black Guard, it wasn't much different. Carter could heal small cuts and bruises if he tried hard enough and Nesryn could make fire appear out of thin air, but never more than just a spark and even then it was more smoke than flame.

Morgan didn't know how the Wizard King and the Great Houses could be so powerful. She had tried her Magic on Carter and Nesryn often enough, but neither of them had felt much more than a little itch. That alone was more than most people would ever be able to, she was told. For her, it wasn't enough. What good was the Magic inside her veins if she couldn't do anything with it.

She was still lost in thought, staring at the road ahead of her without truly seeing it, when a voice pulled her back from her memories.

"What does a pretty girl such as yourself do in the Black Guard?" someone asked.

Morgan frowned, looking down at the young man on her left. He was tied to the back of Nesryn's horse, walking in the middle of the line of prisoners. His lips were curled slightly to the side and he had the nerve to look up at her as she sat on her horse. It was the same man that had spoken to her earlier. It seemed he was more of a fool than she had previously thought.

"Save your flattery for the king, prisoner," she replied, having heard those words a thousand times before. If not more. "It will not get you far with me."

"Aidan."

"What?"

"You keep calling me prisoner, but my name is Aidan," he smiled, which made the hairs on Morgan's arms stand on end. She held his gaze though, narrowing her eyes at him.

There was something deep hidden in his amusement. Something dark glinted in his grey eyes that she had yet to figure out. He ran his hands through his short blond hair as if he was in a tavern late at night to flirt with her. He didn't seem the slightest bit worried about what lay on the other end of their journey. She had seen men scream and cry, knowing what punishment the king would give for their crimes. But Aidan seemed almost glad to be tied up and hoarded off to the capital.

"What, might I ask, is yours, milady?" Aidan added, not noticing the suspicion that was growing in Morgan's stomach.

Carter snickered beside her and she glared at him, before turning back to the young man tied to Nesryn's horse on her other side.

"You may not. Now, shut up and keep walking. You're holding up the line." She spurred her horse to move faster, walking up to Nesryn who was looking at her with a raised brow.

"Since when do you react to comments like that?"

"He's just getting on my nerves," Morgan sighed. "One more word and I might judge him for his crimes myself."

Nesryn laughed. "And you say I have a hot temper."

"I know. The sooner we arrive in Aerilon, the better."

After a few hours of riding along the Kings Road, the villages grew more distant. Because of the war between Sendara and Oberon more than twenty years ago, the old border between the lands had become desolate. It was an abandoned battlefield where small weapons and bones were still sticking out of the dust that had settled onto the earth. Ruins of villages that had been burned to ashes still decorated the lands, creating a haunting image that made even Morgan shiver.

When the sky colored orange and dusk set in, her captain, however, thought it was the best place to set up camp. Reluctant to spend the night in a place like this--where the Spirits of the Dead still haunted the lands--she dropped herself from her horse. The saddlebags her mare had been carrying all this time contained only Morgan's most important belongings. Which was limited to the weapons the Wizard King had given her and the same small tent every warden had.

The camp was set up in a matter of minutes. The prisoners were all gathered in the middle of it, guarded by a handful of wardens, while the others cared for the horses or started to prepare food. For the last few days, that hadn't been much more than dried beef and soup. Even in Harlow, there hadn't been time to buy new provisions.

Morgan's empty stomach rumbled, thinking back on the meals she'd had in Garren. Compared to what she would be served tonight, those dinners seemed like a king's meal now.

When darkness set in, small fires were ignited to spread light and warmth across the camp. She talked with Carter and Nesryn for a while, savoring the content feeling the warmth and food were giving her. A few times one of the prisoners tried to escape. Yet each and every time they were brought back and punished for trying to avoid their judgment. Even when Morgan retired to her tent to get some sleep, she could still hear the cries of pain echoing in her head as the whips slashed through fabric and then flesh.

Those sounds were something she hadn't gotten used to. And probably never would.

She had her own scars reminding her of the pain that was still nested deep inside her soul.

It took her longer than she wanted to fall asleep. And even then she twisted and turned in the rough sheets. She had never been a heavy sleeper, and so close to the Rift, she had a hard time to remain asleep. Rest was not something the Mother was willing to give her.

A loud scream woke her up panting. She reached for the dagger hidden in her boots and felt sweat running down her brow, blurring her vision. Not from the nightmares filled with blood and death that still flashed before her eyes, but because of the suffocating heat that surrounded her. Through the thin fabric of her tent, she could see unnatural lights dancing on the other side.

She shot up from her hard bed and stormed outside. All around her it was bright, while the sky above still showed nothing but the darkness of night. Smoke hung around her like a heavy blanket and she had to cover her face to be able to breathe.

Thick tendrils of fire reached out towards the tents, spreading quickly over the entire camp. Screams echoed in Morgan's ears while a sickening smell filled her nostrils. She cursed, running to the improvised stables. Her mare staggered as she approached and the other horses nearly kicked her left and right.

She quickly gripped the reins of her frightened horse. The mare's nostrils flared and the fear was dead and clear in her dark orbs. "Calm down. It's going to be alright," she whispered, softly stroking her large head. "I'm going to find out who's responsible for this, and when I do, I'm going to kill them."

A shout reached her ears and she quickly turned her head, seeing Carter and Nesryn running up to her, weapons drawn. Despite the fires growing around her, Nesryn's eyes burned brighter--murder set in her blue orbs. Morgan felt sorry for the fool who could come in her way.

When she turned around again towards the camp, she could see the chaos that had erupted and the bodies that littered the old battlefield. When her eyes caught one of the figures yelling orders at the others, she could feel her own blood boil.

Somehow though, it didn't surprise her one bit to find Aidan standing in the midst of all of it.

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So, new characters! What do you think about Morgan? Do you like the pov switch?

Who is Aidan? Any thoughts about him?

Please don't forget to vote and comment!

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Copyright © Cameron R. Lewis