Orlla scowled. “What do you know of the things I value?”
“I know you place a high value on your brother, Samten’s, head. If you agree to help us, we will leave him unharmed.”
Orlla’s pulse picked up pace. “You can’t touch him. He’s in a safe place far from here.”
“He is well-guarded in Hamend’s stone fortress, for now.” The Earl Marshall peered at her for a long moment, clearly enjoying watching her squirm. “But a man must eat. Can you be certain that the food brought to him from the kitchens is safe?”
“What … are you talking about?” Orlla stammered.
The Earl Marshall sighed dramatically. “Must I be tormented by such a slow-witted wench? To reiterate, Brufus has spies everywhere. I am merely suggesting that it would be an easy matter for one of them to gain employment in the castle kitchen, should the need arise.”
“Leave my brother out of this!” Orlla cried. “He is but a lad and has not harmed you.”
“A foolish lad at that, and a troublemaker, is he not?”
“He is young and has much to learn. Hardly a crime of consequence.”
The Earl Marshall stepped closer and ran a gloved finger down the side of her quivering cheek. “That remains to be seen. Now, let us begin anew. Are you or are you not the fabricator of the veiling runes that conceal the pass through these mountains?”
Orlla fought to keep her breathing steady as the man’s sharp eyes bored into hers. Brufus must have had a spy in the courtroom observing her trial. She grimaced. If he had managed to pull that off, she had no doubt he could just as easily arrange for a spy to infiltrate the castle kitchen and poison Samten’s food. At all costs, she couldn’t allow that to happen. “I am,” she said, simply.
The Earl Marshall gave a satisfied nod, exhibiting no surprise at her admission. “Perhaps you would like to tell me why Efyllsseum hides itself from the rest of the world. No trade routes, no merchant ships, no diplomatic marriages to fortify bonds with other kingdoms.” He arched a commanding brow at her. “What is so important about the island kingdom that it must remain concealed from the outside world?”
Orlla gave a nonchalant shrug. “I was captured and brought there as a child. I never questioned the reclusive nature of its inhabitants. Efyllsseum has conducted itself that way for centuries.”
The Earl Marshall’s face rippled with a flicker of anger. “I dare say you know full well what your king hides on his island.”
When Orlla didn’t respond, he squeezed her chin and tilted her head back until she gasped in pain.
“No monarch deprives himself of alliances with other kingdoms unless he has no need of their might,” the Earl Marshall snarled. “What power does the island possess?”
“Eternal youth,” Orlla blurted out. “Our people do not age.”
The Earl Marshall flung her backward and she put a foot behind her to steady herself.
“Eternal youth is a myth from the age of the dragons,” he said in a tone dripping scorn.
Before Orlla could respond, a soldier came running up. “Lord Davian is here, sire.”
The Earl Marshall gave a tight nod. “Bring him to me. Perhaps he has managed to find out what Efyllsseum holds so close to its chest.”
Orlla turned at the sound of approaching footsteps. The breath left her lungs when an all-too-familiar Lord Davian walked into view.
Chapter 19
“You are Lord Davian?” Orlla gasped, staring in disbelief at the pockmarked judge who had presided over her trial.
The Earl Marshall gave a thin laugh. “Those closest to King Hamend have proven most useful to our cause.”
Lord Davian scowled. “I would have been here sooner, but the king is cross-examining the entire court and castle servants after finding out his slain advisor tried to poison him.”
“You sat in judgement over me, accused me of being a Pegonian spy, and all the time you’re the traitor!” Orlla seethed. “You ordered Brufus’s men to intercept us along the way, didn’t you? You told them where I would be and when.”
“What sharp minds the island kingdom produces,” Lord Davian scoffed.
Anger boiled in Orlla’s veins at the extent of the judge’s corruption and the injustice of it all.
The Earl Marshall stroked his bristly beard thoughtfully. “Now that she is in our custody, pray tell what secrets Efyllsseum hides that make her so valuable a quarry.”
Lord Davian rubbed his hands together, his lips twisting into a piggish smile. “Valuable indeed. Efyllsseum is home to the light dragon stone.”
The Earl Marshall’s jaw dropped. “The Opal of Light? Are you certain?”
“I will never take you through the pass,” Orlla spat out. “The Opal of Light will not fall into your thieving hands under my watch.”
“The Opal of Light belongs to us all,” Lord Davian growled. “What difference does it make who is in possession of it?”
“It makes a difference when my brother’s life is at stake. He is a prisoner in the tower at Lichtenburg castle. King Hamend will not release him to me unless I return with the Opal of Light.”
“And I will make sure your brother does not survive his time at the castle unless you cooperate with me,” the Earl Marshall snapped.
“So either way he dies?” Orlla looked from the Earl Marshall to Lord Davian. “You expect me to cooperate with a plan that assures me only of his demise?”
Lord Davian narrowed glittering, dark eyes at her. “I can arrange to get your brother out of the castle and have him brought to a safe house in Lichtenburg.”
Orlla shook her head. “That won’t suffice. I don’t trust either one of you. Bring my brother here to the camp so I can see with my own eyes that he is unharmed. Either he travels with us through the Angladior mountains to Efyllsseum or none of us go.”
Lord Davian exchanged a loaded look with the Earl Marshall. “This could delay us several days. Getting the lad out of the tower will require a certain amount of planning.”
The Earl Marshall clasped his jaw in his hand and stared out at the camp beyond them. “Do it.” He eyed Orlla disparagingly. “Maybe he will serve as an incentive to make sure the wench doesn’t attempt to double cross us with her mystical runes.”
Orlla’s heartbeat thudded in her ears. It was a barely concealed threat, but even at that she felt better knowing Samten would be by her side, however this played out.
“I am saddle weary,” Lord Davian grumbled. “I will rest at the camp tonight and return to the castle in the morning.”
The Earl Marshall grabbed him by the collar and hissed in his face. “You will return to the castle forthwith. Brufus will not be patient for long once he knows the island kingdom is in possession of the Opal of Light. He will wish to secure it before he marches on Lichtenburg.”
Lord Davian’s face flushed as he fingered the hilt of his knife. He arranged his features in an expression of strained calm before he replied. “My loyalty comes at a price.”
The Earl Marshall clenched his fists, his face reddening. “You test me, Davian.” He fumbled around inside his cloak for an intricately-stitched, leather purse from which he pulled out four pieces of silver.
“Eight,” Lord Davian barked, holding out his hand. “I will need fresh horses to ride back.”
“Your gambling debts will be the death of you,” the Earl Marshall groused. He produced another two coins which he slapped into Lord Davian’s fist. “You will receive the balance when you turn over the lad.”
Lord Davian closed gloved fingers over the coins. “Perhaps my price will have gone up by then.” He whirled around and strode off to saddle up his horse again.
The Earl Marshall flicked a condescending smile Orlla’s way. “Is the lady satisfied with the terms?”
“I will not rest until I set eyes on my brother. Until then, there are no terms as far as I am concerned.”
The Earl Marshall raised an amused brow. “Such bravado from a prisoner. Brufus’s captives usually tr
emble at the knees, but perhaps your powers give you courage.” He moved closer. “Tell me, what other powers do you possess? Surely these white strands that mar your head contain some magic of their own?”
Orlla took a step backward. “I have no powers of my own. The power to weave the ancient runes comes from the Opal of Light.”
“That cannot be all the light dragon stone is capable of,” the Earl Marshall said, his voice dangerously soft.
Orlla shrugged. “We do not know the full extent of its power. The runes were taught to the human race by the light dragons long before the fifty-year war. They have been passed down from Keeper to Keeper for centuries, and laboriously copied in our annals. Our eternal youth has ensured their safekeeping.”
The Earl Marshall furrowed his brow. “Such runes have been lost to the mainland. War has ravaged our land and laid waste to our manuscripts and our youth.”
Orlla bristled, torn between guilt at how Efyllsseum had contributed to the hardship on the mainland, and disgust at the monarchs’ greed and scheming. In a three-way tug-of-war for the Opal of Light, it was becoming increasingly clear that no one king was fit to take possession, and no one kingdom worthy to house the light dragon stone.
The burden of this knowledge weighed heavily on her. Despite her reluctant agreement to bring the Opal of Light to the mainland, in return for her brother’s life, she dreaded the thought of either King Hamend or Brufus seizing control of the light dragon stone. There had to be a better way to resolve this, an equitable solution that would avoid another senseless war. But what? For now, at least, she was forced to feign compliance with Brufus’s soldiers in order to make sure Samten was safe.
“Come,” the Earl Marshall said, steering her by the elbow. “We will eat together, and then I will find you a sheltered spot to rest. You need not fear the soldiers. I will post my own personal guards to ensure your safety.”
Orlla allowed herself to be led to a spot beside a large fire where a hog roasted on a spit. Despite her all-consuming fears for Samten’s safety, her stomach growled at the succulent aroma that wafted her way. A soldier handed her a mug of ale and she accepted it gratefully. If nothing else, it might help her sleep.
“So, tell us about the legendary Efyllsseum,” the soldier drawled, eyeing her through half-lidded eyes, slack from ale.
“She is not required to answer your drunken questions, Cedric.” The Earl Marshall tore off a small piece of roasted pork. He tasted it and then tore off another piece and handed it to Orlla.
“It’s all right,” she said, with a small shrug. “I don’t mind talking about my home.” She chewed on the tender pork and then turned to Cedric, her brow rippled in thought. “Efyllsseum is an island of vibrant foliage and intense color in every hue you can imagine. In contrast, the mainland seems faded, tired, and parched, like a discarded skin.”
Cedric scratched his scalp as if trying to wrap his head around the metaphor in his inebriated state. “Where does all this color come from?”
Orlla shot a quick look at the Earl Marshall and he slowly shook his head, no. It was one thing to describe Efyllsseum to the soldiers, but if they got wind of the Opal of Light too soon, it might cause an uproar.
“We are graced with much sun on the island,” Orlla said flatly, reaching for another piece of pork.
Cedric snorted. “Graced indeed! There’s isn’t a living mainlander remembers seeing the sun break through here.” He stuffed his face with meat and chewed noisily.
Orlla contemplated his words for a moment. To live under this much gloom, day after day, was its own kind of prison—one from which it was long past time to set the mainlanders free.
“How is it you have managed to keep the pass through the mountains hidden all these years?” Cedric asked.
“A thick web of veiling runes conceals it,” Orlla explained. “Efyllsseum’s Keepers are charged with maintaining the runes.”
Cedric sniffed and squinted suspiciously at her. “What’s so special about Efyllsseum that your king keeps it hidden from the outside world?”
“The islanders are blessed with eternal youth,” the Earl Marshall interjected. “They don’t wrinkle up like you, Cedric.”
The other soldiers laughed and punched him playfully.
Cedric grunted and took a hefty swig of ale.
“Is it true you were not born on Efyllsseum?” another soldier asked.
Orlla stiffened. Did they know she was a Macobite, or did they think her family hailed from Pegonia?
“That’s enough questions for now,” the Earl Marshall cut in, getting to his feet. “It’s time to retire for the night.”
The soldiers eyed Orlla distrustfully, clutching their mugs of ale to their chests.
“I bid you all a good night,” Orlla said, following the Earl Marshall’s lead.
They raised their mugs to her before resuming their conversation.
The Earl Marshall rounded up two guards and escorted Orlla to a sheltered spot in a copse of elm trees at one end of the camp.
“You will be safe here until morning,” he said. “Two of my personal guards will watch over you.”
Orlla gathered her cloak around her as the Earl Marshall walked off. She sat down on a small bank and watched the flickering flames of the campfire in the distance. She wished with all her heart that Samten was here with her. If anything happened to him, she would never forgive herself for agreeing to leave him behind in Lichtenburg. How would she ever face their father again?
She cast a furtive glance up at the two armed guards. Although she scarcely felt tired, it would be wise to try and sleep. She might get very little rest in the coming days. She still hadn’t determined the best course of action to take once they were safely through the pass. It would make more sense for her to travel on to Efyllsseum without Brufus’s soldiers, in the hopes of trying to persuade the Keepers at the Conservatory to reason with King Ferghell on her behalf. They were less likely to cooperate if Brufus’s soldiers were holding swords to their throats. But, she doubted the Earl Marshall would trust her to travel without an armed escort.
Before long, the voices of the soldiers grew quiet. Orlla lay down in the leaves and curled up in her cloak, her eyelids gradually becoming heavier. She closed her eyes and pictured Akolom, wondering if she would see him again once they crossed through the runes. The crackling flames in her ear grew fainter, until they faded entirely.
Dreams of flight haunted her; being chased down dark, castle hallways by Lord Davian, pursued through the Angladior mountains by the Earl Marshall and his soldiers, and finally sinking in the marshes, exhausted and flailing for help.
Her eyes shot open when a hand groped her shoulder.
Chapter 20
The hand slid across Orlla’s mouth, firm as a vise, trapping the scream that rose up her throat. Where were her guards? Her body tingled with terror. She flailed her arms, desperately trying to get a grip on her attacker, her eyes darting from side to side in the darkness.
“Orlla!” a voice whispered in her ear as the calloused hand slowly released its iron grasp. “It’s me, Erdhan.”
She froze, then went limp, clapping her mouth shut when it dawned on her that attracting the attention of the other soldiers would not be a good thing after all.
She blinked at the shadowy figure in front of her. “What are you doing here?” she huffed, partway between annoyance and relief. “Where are the guards?”
“They won’t be a problem. I took care of them.” Erdhan grabbed her by the hand and pulled her to her feet. “We need to go. Now.”
“Must you make a habit of sneaking up on me like that?” She freed her hand from his with an indignant tug. “You scared me halfway to my grave.”
“Sssh! Keep your voice down and follow me.”
Her eyes widened when they stepped around the two guards lying amid the leaf litter on the forest floor, their throats slit like hogs. Erdhan had made a hasty attempt to cover the bodies, but it wouldn’t be long before so
meone discovered them.
Heart pulsing in her throat, Orlla followed him through the trees and away from the camp to a small dell where two horses were tethered to a tree. She grasped a tuft of the smaller dark bay’s mane and swung herself up into the saddle. Erdhan untied both horses before leaping up on the second steed.
“How did you know I was at the camp?” Orlla asked.
“We’ll talk later. Now we ride to Wilefur. My mother’s friend, Lydya, will hide you at her house.”
Orlla scrunched her brow. “Why would Lydya help me? She cannot still believe we are betrothed?”
Erdhan gave a faint chuckle as he nudged his horse forward. “Lydya has no love for Hamend. Her father was one of his most trusted Kingsmen until Hamend ordered him hanged as a spy based solely on the word of Lord Davian. Lydya always suspected Lord Davian was the real traitor, but no one dared speak out against the judge, and she had no way to prove her suspicions.”
Orlla squeezed back on her reins, preventing her horse from following Erdhan’s out of the dell. “I can’t go to Wilefur with you. Lord Davian is bringing my brother, Samten, back to Brufus’s camp. If I’m not here, my brother’s life will be in danger.”
Erdhan turned and gave her a crooked grin. “Then we will intercept them en route.”
A flicker of a frown tugged at Orlla’s forehead. “They will likely be accompanied by Kingsmen. Lord Davian will use them as protection and then betray them to Brufus’s soldiers once he reaches the camp.”
Erdhan patted his saddlebag. “I am well-equipped with my finest throwing knives for any altercation. And I have a bow if you care to assist me—not as fine a specimen as yours, but it will suffice.”
Before she could protest, he clicked his tongue and urged his horse forward again. “Geddup!”
This time Orlla followed him, her mind whirling in a sea of uncertainty at the thought of returning to Wilefur and facing the people she had deceived. But, Erdhan had already set things in motion and she couldn’t undo what was done. Two of the Earl Marshall’s personal guards were dead, and it would be best if she put as much distance between herself and the Earl Marshall as possible before the bodies were discovered. After that, she would have to work on the finer points of a plan to rescue Samten from Lord Davian.
Opal of Light: An epic dragon fantasy (The Keeper Chronicles Book 1) Page 17
