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STOLEN BY THE PAST Chapter Four: Had'Rian smiled. "Back home for a warm mug of tea it will be then." He pulled away and would not let Behan tug him back again. Even when Behan folded his arms across his front and pouted Had'Rian only laughed again. Sometimes Behan wondered if Had'Rian liked making him suffer. Had'Rian led them further up through the centre of the village. When they reached the well in the centre they stopped and waited for the horses behind to pass by for they were travelling at some speed. Behan tried to reach for Had'Rian's hand but Had'Rian would not allow it. "Sometimes I wonder why I bother," Behan mumbled. "Oh, do stop your grumbling," Had'Rian replied. The footsteps behind grew to a thunderous noise as they crossed the border of the village. Behan turned to see who was in such a hurry but could only make out three dark figures upon three horses. It was too dark and not all of the village lamps had yet been lit. They were slowing in pace and Behan thought that was a little too late; they had already thundered across half the village at a dangerous pace, why slow now? But they slowed yet further, falling from a canter to a trot, then finally they were walking. "I think they may be lost," Had'Rian said. "How typical," Behan sighed. Had'Rian gave him a scathing glance that told him to hold his tongue, and then turned to greet the visitors. Behan followed a moment later. He rather wished he had not.
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The icy grip of fear that Behan had believed he would never feel again suddenly caught him tight around his middle. Now he knew why he had been unable to make out the men riding upon the horses' backs. Because they were not men, not as Behan knew them anyway. The things that had followed him to Elissarro were the same things that had attacked him on Sandpoint's top. Not Lucretious himself but his three renegade Elders. "Behan, run," Had'Rian breathed, but Behan couldn't move. They had found him, the way he had always known they would. Not satisfied with just taking his brother, they had come for him, too. He had always known it would end this way, it had just come a lot sooner than he'd expected. He looked up at the Elders, wanting to see their faces. But he already knew them. Their twins lived in the cottage up the road, had spent the last two years doing their best to keep Layana away from her friends and family. They were near-identical in appearance. Komaluna was just like Bouchraa, same grey hair and white beard; even his eyes were violet. Ghabraa's twin Plazonra was thinner than his brother was; Vahra looked older than Dhalidya. All of this Behan knew from memory for the entities before him did not lower their dark hoods. The one in front - it could only be Komaluna - lifted his hand. Behan knew what was coming and told himself to run but, again, he found he could not move. "Behan!" Had'Rian gasped from in front but he was too far away. Only a few metres separated them but it was more than enough. Komaluna raised his hand and lowered it quickly to Behan.
A thrust of hot power struck Behan squarely in the chest. He was picked up off the floor and thrown backwards on his heels. He landed with a thud on his bottom and moaned out against the pain. There was a sword in his throat! A sword tearing his windpipe in two! He tried to lift his hands but they lay numb and useless at his sides. Opening his mouth, he gasped out for air, tasting blood when he knew there was none.
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