by Pamita Rao
He looked at her and smiled, winking as if he knew it was all a lie. He got up from his table and wobbled, spilling drink onto the floor. He came close to Alaira and slurred in her ear. “I know ye are a woman hiding behind men’s clothes. That story was nothing but a lie. If you do not want me to tell the tavern owner, then ye promise to come to my bedchamber for the night.” His eyes half closed, he burped, releasing a stench of liquor.
Alaira scrunched her nose and tried to move away from him, but he held onto her arm tightly. She turned to see if the tavern owner was watching her, but he was busy listening to more tales from Freddic. Horace and Klink were standing on the other end of the tavern, eyeing drinks. This was good. No one was looking.
Alaira lowered the basket to the floor gently and stood up. Others were either too drunk to see her or too engrossed in conversations. She turned to the man in front of her and smiled sweetly before bringing her knee upwards and knocking him in the middle of his legs.
The man screeched in pain and fell on the table. Alaira lifted an empty mug in front of her and smashed it on his head. The man wailed and held his hands over his head before slumping to the ground. Every man in the tavern turned towards her, and a silence fell over them. Freddic looked towards her in shock. A few men rose from their tables, and Horace brought his hands to his sword, ready to fight if the men attacked her. Alaira held her breath for a minute, waiting to see what the other men would do.
“It’s a fight!” shouted a man from the far end, and everyone hooted and clapped, slamming their mugs full of drinks to each other. “Fight! Fight! Fight!” cheered men from across the tavern, urging her to continue. She had not expected the men to cheer for her, but it was better than raising suspicion. If she had to prove she was a man, then maybe all she had to do was win a tavern fight. She smiled at herself. That was an easy task to achieve.
The drunk man pushed himself up from the ground and staggered as he swung his hand towards Alaira. Alaira moved away with ease as he missed her face and swung himself onto a chair. The chair tipped and he stumbled onto the ground once more. This time, he stayed on the floor and did not wake up. The tavern owner came running towards the man and saw the broken pieces of the chair scattered across the floor. He glowered at Alaira and turned to Freddic.
“Go back to your rooms before you cause any more trouble, or I will charge you coins for all the damage.”
Freddic nodded, held onto Alaira’s arms, and guided her away from everyone. “We were not to attract any attention. So why did you fight with that man?”
She had not intended to hurt the man, but he would have given away her secret. “He suspected me to be a woman and insulted me. I do not take well to insults,” she said calmly. Freddic opened a door to the room in which they had stayed previously and ushered her inside.
“You can sleep here for the night.” He placed the basket on the bed and turned towards her. He looked tired, and Alaira wondered if she had done wrong by starting the fight.
“Are you all right?” he asked in concern, gazing into her eyes.
Alaira nodded and smiled. “Did you see that man? He could not hurt a fly by the way he was swinging his arm.”
Freddic laughed a little. “Yes, and I knew from the very beginning that you would win. You are a strong woman.” There was a hint of pride in his voice, and Alaira felt a blush creep up her cheeks. They stood in silence for a while, staring at each other, until Freddic broke his gaze.
“I should allow you to have some sleep. We must try to reach Nimah before midday tomorrow. The king may know about us, and we have to prepare ourselves.”
Alaira sat on the bed and stared at Neelahaim’s sleeping form inside the basket after Freddic left. The potion Elora made him drink was very strong, as he did not wake even at all during the entire journey. Alaira remembered how father had said that the potion would lull Neelahaim to sleep until they reached Nimah. The potion was a blessing, as they were able to escape with ease, but now Alaira worried about what would happen if he did not wake up when they reached Nimah.
She admonished herself for thinking such a terrible thing. That would never happen. She would not allow it. He was Elora’s son, her nephew, and she would protect him with her dying breath.
As she lay on the bed, her eyes closed. Her limbs ached and her head thumped. She had not realized how tired she was and how much she was in need of rest. She felt herself drift into sleep. She would think about everything else tomorrow.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Nimah
After a little sleep, and barely tasting some leftover gravy from the kitchen that looked like gunk, they were prepared to ride back to Nimah. The sky was still a deep purple, but the stars were beginning to disappear. Nimah was not far, and if they hurried, they could reach their village before the morning sun rose above the horizon.
The boys were still sleepy, and Alaira seized the moment to take the reins. She needed the fresh air and chilly winds to erase the memory of a dream from last night in which she saw herself burn in a pit of fire. At first, Creed stood over her, laughing over her misfortune, but then he morphed into Elora, who said that Alaira deserved a painful death for betraying her by not protecting Neelahaim. Alaira woke up soaking in sweat, wondering why she had such a terrible dream. Was she meant to understand a message?
The sting of cool air raised goosebumps on her skin and washed away memories of her dream. She climbed onto the horse and clicked her heel. The horse started with a slow walk and soon picked up speed, and Alaira breathed in the refreshing air as the wind whipped by.
She remembered the first time Freddic had taught her how to ride a horse. They had been children, when she had come to live in Nimah with her parents and Horace. Freddic’s father, Inglan, owned most of the farms in the village, and when her father, Reddan, had approached Inglan for a few days of shelter, Inglan had offered them more than that. He had given them a home and a promise to keep their family safe from the king. That is when she had met Freddic.
He sat on his horse with such ease, chasing the rabbits and cows away from his crops. She thought she had seen a warrior, like her sister and father. A man who could ride a horse with such ease could also fight, but Freddic could not see blood. He would never cut meat in the farm. He left it to the other workers.
Horace always teased him for being a coward, but Alaira liked that about Freddic. A soft-hearted man, who could never see pain, would make for a great husband and father, her mother had told her once. Alaira never understood it then, but now, whenever she looked at Freddic, she felt a warmth like she had never felt before.
Maybe it was nothing, but the feelings were getting stronger, and she did not know what to do about them. When she saw him white as a sheet lying inside the carriage, she had panicked, thought the guards had killed him, but he woke up to tell her what happened. Poor Freddic, she thought. Was it right of her to involve him in her battle?
No matter what anyone called what they had just done, she knew that they had silently declared war against Creed. There would be repercussions, and she was going to be prepared for it. Horace, Father, and Alaira had waited for this day for a long while, and they knew their fate, but Freddic did not have to suffer for her sins. He was a good man, and it was not his war. It was wrong of her to turn him into a criminal along with them. When they reached Nimah, she would tell him that they had to part ways, and that thought made her heart ache.
Alaira kept riding until she saw the dim lights from a distance. Nimah was nearing. The villagers had lit lights on various trees, guiding them to the village. In the dark, Elora could only see the silhouette of cascading hills that formed a protective barrier around Nimah. It was one of the beauties of the village. These were the same hills where Freddic’s father, Inglan, raised Freddic. It was here that he grew the crops that made the ingredients for his fine liquor, and it was here where his animals grazed.
Inglan had lived in this village since the reign of Balthasar, and Inglan’s family had supp
lied liquor to the aristocrats since then. It was for this reason that the aristocrats had allowed Inglan to stay in the village and own a few slaves as workers on his lands. The villagers in Nimah sowed their own vegetables and fruits in various farms and needed very little help from the kingdom.
Alaira watched the villagers come running towards them, torches in their hands, as the carriage drew closer to Nimah.
“Alaira!” called a man, running towards her. His hair had grayed over the years, wrinkles had formed around his eyes and forehead, but he still looked as handsome as she remembered him since childhood.
“Father!” she screamed, waving at him.
Reddan ran towards his daughter, waited until she climbed down from the horse, and surrounded her in a warm embrace. “Where is Horace?” he asked, releasing her.
“I am here!” shouted Horace, climbing out of the carriage and hugging Reddan. Some villagers approached Horace, lifted him and Klink upon their shoulders, and cheered at the top of their voices.
Father hushed the villagers. “Quiet, everyone!” When the villagers lowered their voices, he turned to Alaira. “Did you bring him? Did you bring me my grandson?”
Alaira smiled. “He is here.” She lifted the basket gently from the carriage and opened the lid for him to see. Everyone quieted. A few huddled around her to see the prince. Her father’s eyes teared as he reached into the basket to pick up the sleeping baby.
“My grandchild is home!”
The prince chose that exact moment to break into a sharp cry as he was lifted into the air. The villagers applauded in happiness, while Horace and Klink hooted and clapped each other on their shoulders when the villagers released them.
“Freddic! Freddic!” shouted another man from the crowd. He pushed and shoved everyone in his path until he came and stood near Alaira. “What have you done to my son?” he shouted at her.
“I am here, Father, and Alaira saved my life.” Alaira turned to Freddic, who came to stand by her, and smiled at everyone who congratulated him.
“She took you with her to that castle. She put you in harm’s way. How can you defend her?”
Alaira was about to speak and apologize for taking Freddic with her, but Freddic intervened. “I volunteered, Father. I wanted to be a part of something bigger than only grazing herds every day in the fields. I wanted to bring the child back home safely.”
Freddic’s father turned to Alaira. “You know he cannot fight, that he knows nothing about wielding a sword like you and your family, yet you accepted his offer?” Alaira hung her head in shame. Indeed, he was right; Freddic had fainted at the mere sight of blood. If he had been caught, he would not have known how to defend himself.
Reddan approached Inglan and shook his head. “You must know that we had no choice. Alaira could not have entered the castle without your carriages. We meant no harm to your son, but you must understand. My eldest daughter Elora needed our aid to save her child. If we had not done this, her child could have been in grave danger. You know very well what Creed was going to do to him. You heard what the slaves from Groigad said when Elora was with her child. We had to do something, and when Freddic offered to drive the carriage for us, we did not think it was wrong. My daughter and son would never have allowed any harm to come to your son.”
Inglan turned to Freddic. “Why did you not tell me?”
“Because I knew you would not agree, Father. I had no choice.”
Alaira, who had been watching the exchange, spoke up. “I apologize, Inglan. It is my fault. I should not have allowed Freddic on this journey with me to the castle, but we are all safe now. We are all home, and we were victorious.”
“That is true,” said Freddic. “We are safe, but we may not be for long. Creed’s army will come to look for this child, and we have to be prepared.”
Inglan shook his head in anger and pointed at Reddan. “You will not involve us in your family’s matters,” he said. “I will not allow you to destroy what I have worked so hard to build. The aristocrats respect me and allow me to have a normal life in this village. The lives of many workers depend on me and so does my son’s life. I will not allow your actions to endanger the peace in my village.”
Freddic shook his head. “Do you not understand, Father? This child is how we will win against Creed. The war we have waged with Creed is greater than you and me; this is not only about saving the world of Myrth, but all the lands in other realms. You heard what the slaves from Groigad told us. You heard along with us how Creed would use powers from the child. Do you think if Creed received such powers, he would not use it on you and me? Do you think he would leave us alone and wander away without destroying us all? He would not require us anymore, Father!” he shouted. “If he started destroying all the lands, he would be unstoppable. If Alaira did this to protect her nephew, then I did it to protect the world from Creed. I would be honored to fight against him and his army.”
“What if they know it was you?” asked Inglan, his eyes tearing as he hugged Freddic. “I cannot lose you, my son. You are the only child I have.”
Freddic wiped Inglan’s tears. “What about all the other lives that will be lost, Father? Who will wipe their tears? We are all fighting for the same cause.” Freddic’s father did not look convinced. He held onto Freddic tightly for a while and allowed Freddic to lead him away from the rest.
Alaira walked towards the small house at the corner. It had been her home since they had come to Nimah and was where her mother had taken her last breath. Her muscles ached after the long ride and broken sleep in the tavern, and all she wanted to do was take a hot bath and lie down on her own bed. Instead, she sat down on a chair in the kitchen and related everything that happened in Tireol while Reddan listened intently.
“Where is Neelahaim?” Horace asked in concern as he entered the kitchen.
Reddan got up and walked over to the cauldron he had placed on the fire. He picked up a ladle, dipped it in the hot stew he had just made, and poured it into each of their bowls. He then laid it on the table next to each of them and urged them to eat. “Our neighbors are caring for him. They were kind enough to allow you both to rest for a while.”
A thought suddenly struck Alaira’s tired mind.
“How did you know this trick would work?” When her father had sent a vial to Groigad to be given to Biliyam right before Alaira and Horace had started their journey, she had not questioned him. She was only concerned about Neelahaim’s safety, so she had followed without question when father had told her that the vial would lull Neelahaim into a deep sleep. It had worked. Neelahaim had not woken or cried the entire journey back home.
Her father sat beside her at the table and held his hands in front of him, deep in thought, as if remembering the past. “When Creed imprisoned Elora after the battle of Taelk, your mother had a vision.”
“Mother always had visions of us,” said Alaira, sipping hot soup from her bowl. It warmed its way to her stomach and quieted her craving for food.
Her father nodded. “Your grandfather Oelk was an Oracle who lived in the kingdom of Tryll all his life. He was well known for speaking with gods. You both must already know that.”
Alaira nodded. She had heard stories from Mother about all the good deeds her grandfather had done for the people of Tryll and Taelk. Though these stories had been retold many times, she still loved to hear them, and Father had a great ability for telling stories in a way that intrigued them even as adults.
Reddan continued. “Your mother had similar abilities but not as great as your grandfather. She could not see the future as she wished, the way your grandfather could, but she could see it at certain times. It was hard for her. Whenever she tried to have a vision, she either fainted or bled from her nose. That is why she learned how to make potions and became a healer for soldiers wounded in war. Your grandfather was disappointed. He always wanted her to practice more and become a true Oracle as he was. He had great hopes for her.”
“Then why didn’t she?�
�� asked Horace. He edged forward on his chair to listen to the story.
Alaira’s father smiled. “She met me. I was a warrior in Taelk and was sent to Tryll to retrieve a prisoner. The prisoner wounded me and ran away. I had heard about such healers who, with their magical potions, would heal any wound, and that is when I met your mother. She came to my aid and healed my wound. We fell in love soon and married in Tryll. Soon after, we had three wonderful children.” He smiled at them.
Alaira’s eyes teared. Every time she heard the story, the memories of her mother came flooding back to her. Her heart ached with emptiness. “Did she know about Neelahaim when Elora married Creed?” she asked, wiping her moist cheeks.
“It was long before Elora’s marriage, my dear child. Your mother had one of her visions when Elora was still in your mother’s womb. She saw Elora as a grown woman, running with a child, a man with immense powers following her to hurt her and her child. She saw the man kill Elora to take the child away. The vision left your mother afraid for Elora’s life. Even though Elora was not even born, your mother could not forget the vision.”
“Could she see what happened to the child?”
“No, she did not have powers to see so far into the future. Only a true Oracle like your grandfather was blessed with such visions. After that day, your mother busied herself in thoughts of how to save Elora. When Creed married Elora, your mother recognized him as the man. That was when she made the potion and told me to prepare for this day.”
“But why did you not tell us all this before?”
He shook his head. “Everything has its own time, my child. You both were only children, and I had already lost a daughter; I did not want to burden the two of you with visions that your mother had of your sister. That is why I sent the potion to Groigad village and hoped it would reach Elora before the two of you retrieved Neelahaim, which you have done very well. I am proud of both of you.”
