Angel Wings

Chapter Eight

They walked away quickly. Archer’s movements were stiff and tense, as if he was struggling against a great force.

Genevieve didn’t know what to do. She did not feel like speaking to him because of the guards around them; she had a funny feeling they would be listening to closely. She decided to try and take his hand in comfort, but when she did he closed it into a fist. She drew her hand back at once, embarrassed by her actions, and sighed.

The guest rooms were large and comfortable. When they walked in they saw it had many windows, letting golden light pour in. It was complete with beds and couches, chairs and tables, arranged in a very welcoming way. Archer walked to one of the large windows and stood there like a statue.

Jais was telling the guards something, but Genevieve didn’t care to listen. She instead walked slowly to Archer. She looked out the window and saw the gardens. The whole Royal Level was made up mostly of gardens and grand houses. It was so clean and peaceful, and always bathed in sun. She looked Archer and said,

“It’s lovely...I wish you would have told me you were a knight, Sir Phillip.”

She jumped, frightened by his sharp reply. “Don’tcall me that! It exactly why I didn’t tell you.”

She regained her composer and said calmly, “Alright then, just Phillip it is.”

He sighed roughly. “Archer. Please just call me Archer.”

She frowned. “I don’t understand. Why-”

“Of course you don’t understand!” And with that he walked away from her and left the room, slamming the door on his way.

Genevieve’s eyes watered. She felt like she’d been slapped, and it hurt her.

Jais saw this and came to her side. “There, there Miss. Don’t worry yourself over Archer. He usually gets like this inside of the castle walls.”

She sniffed and wiped away a tear that fell. “But why?”

Jais sighed, “Its really not my place to tell but...well, he got into some trouble. And some people won’t let him forget it, even if it wasn’t his fault. That little snake Tishna especially. I told Archer over and over again that he shouldn’t spend the night with her but would he listen? Of course n-” He covered his mouth with one hand, then took it off and turned to Genevieve saying, “I would appreciate it if you didn’t tell Archer I told you that. It embarrasses him so much.”

Genevieve nodded. “Of course. But I am very grateful you told me this much. It helps me understand him. He is such a mystery to me, and Zativa as well...do you think she is dangerous?”

He laughed loudly. “Of course I do! What witch isn’t?”

***

Archer made his way to the upper level dungeons. He was determined to talk to Zativa, to get the truth out of her. She couldn’t have been working for an enemy, he would have noticed it; she had been to loyal to him, their connection was strong. If she could fool him then...well he didn’t know if he could trust anyone anymore.

A guard halted him at the dungeon entrance. “What business do you have here?”

“I’ve come to see the prisoner Zativa,”

The guard laughed. “Ohoho! The witch is it? Sorry, lad, but you ain’t getting in. Wizard ordered us not to let anybody pass...” the guard yawned then and his eyes became drowsy. Soon his lids shut and he collapsed in a deep sleep. Archer stepped over him lightly and walked through the door. He looked in and saw that there were only three cells on the upper level. The floors were marble and on them were comfortable but firm bed mats. The food tasted good and was served on silver. The King made these cells when they had to imprison someone of high standard or of royalty, which was rare. Archer saw Zativa standing in front of the bars, in the same cell he had once been in.

He nodded behind him, “Thanks for taking care of the guard,”

She simply looked at him with a blank expression on her face; waiting.

Archer sighed and walked over to her. The small woman was taller then Genevieve but Archer was still a half a head taller then she. He looked down at her with a serious expression, but then his face crumbled and he rested his head against the bars. Three years ago, before he had met Zativa, he had been a wanderer. He had gotten into some mishap within the Kingdom and decided to spend time away from it, away from everybody. He lived within the West Forest for months, growing stronger and stronger, but his heart became weaker. He trusted no one. But then he met Zativa.

Their friendship had been a strange one, and for the first few nights he was afraid he might wake with a knife in his back, but time and time again Zativa proved herself to be a loyal friend. He told her of his past, and expected her to laugh at him. But instead she told him not to act like a sniveling babe with a hurt pride. Those words stung him, but also made sense. Ever since then his past did not bother him much. Over the years he and Zativa became very close, so close that he even opened his mind to her, and her to his. That is how they were able to speak to each other silently through thought. He loved her as if she was his sister. And even though she would never admit it in a thousand years...she loved him too.

It had been two years since he questioned her loyalty, and it pained him to do so now. He struggled to gain composure, grasping the bars so tightly his knuckles were turning white.

Zativa waited patiently for him.

He spoke through clenched teeth, still struggling with composure but not wanting to delay his any longer, “...Please...please tell me the truth. Who...who are you enslaved to?”

Zativa said bluntly, without any hint of regret, “Darthor, the dragon of the Sinking Sun.”

Archer gasped. Darthor was and evil dragon who once attacked the Ardenjen Castle itself. His heart was wicked and greedy, and even though he did not serve the Dark Lord he was still a threat to Ardenja.

Archer took a step away from her. “Then...were these past years just part of some plan? Were you just trying to get into the castle? What are you doing for your Master? What evil are you trying to bring to us?”

Zativa hissed, her eyes blazing. “Are you so quick to break our bond? To count me as an enemy?!”

“I am if you truly are one! And you have not said so otherwise so who am I to believe?”

She sent a witch light at him, only to have it be caught in the bars which were now glowing with a green light. The witch light disappeared and she screamed in frustration.

There was a moment of silence, then Archer pleaded in a broken tone. “Please tell me the truth...alira.” Alira in witch-chant meant dear heart, a name only given to a true friend.

The name stung Zativa, since Archer had only used it once before when she saved him from a band of flesh eating goblins in the Dark Woods. She turned to him with a sharp look in her eyes,

“I cannot speak of my bond to the wretched dragon. Our deal does not allow it. But know that I do not mean you nor anybody within these castle walls any harm. Please Archer, trust me as you have been, aliro.”

His heart was cracking. “I’m trying, Zativa. I am.”

“That is all I ask. Now, go to Genevieve. You have made such an ass out of yourself.”

He managed to smile at her as she looked through his memories. He nodded, “Yes, I believe I have. I shall to that at once.”