“That is a difficult question,” Ben agreed. “What do you believe Elôm is telling you?”
Daniel leaned forward and rubbed his eyes. He wasn’t so sure he wanted to know what Elôm was telling him. Finally, he looked up to meet Ben’s gaze.
“Running seems like the easy way out . . . the coward’s way. The thought of having to deal with my father and sister is difficult to face, but I have more opportunity to do good here than hiding in Landale.”
Ben nodded slowly. “Then I think you have your answer.”
Though not the answer Daniel wanted, he would have to accept it. “Just pray for me. Davira wants me dead, and there may be others with her who will try to sway my father. I’m not sure if I’ll be able to attend the meetings regularly, if at all. I can’t stand the thought of losing the fellowship, but thank Elôm that I did discover another believer at the palace. At least I’ll have someone to talk to. Pray for him as well. I can’t imagine how difficult it has been to hide his faith for as long as he has.”
“You can both count on our prayers.”
“Thank you,” Daniel breathed, weary yet ready to do his Lord’s will.
For hours, the three of them sat in the living room and talked quietly about how Daniel might make a positive difference at the palace and how Elôm could use him. It strengthened his heart for the challenge, though he put off leaving until nearly four o’clock in the morning. He had to get back to the palace before daylight. However, the idea of returning was even harder than he thought it would be.
Ben and Mira walked him to the door, where he turned to face them. Though they had been up most of the night, they each had a strong and encouraging smile for him.
“I’m sorry to have wakened you and kept you from your rest,” he said.
Ben shook his head. “You don’t ever have to apologize for seeking our help. We all need to be there for each other if we are to face these dark days. If the middle of the night is the only time you can come, then you come. The time is not important.”
This brought a smile to Daniel’s face. “I don’t know what I’d do without you two.”
“It is our joy to be in this with you,” Ben said. “Now, let us send you back to the palace properly with a word of prayer.”
The three of them bowed their heads, and Mira took Daniel’s hand in a comforting, motherly hold.
“Lord, as Daniel, Your child, returns to the work we believe You have called him to, we pray for Your wisdom, guidance, and protection to be upon him. The dangers are numerous, but we know nothing can touch him without Your permission. Continue to stay his father’s hand, and show him what good he can do by facing this challenge and not running from it. Give him both the courage and the strength to stand strong and remain focused on the path You have set before him. We pray this in the name of Your Holy Son, Elon, who called him to this work. Amen.”
“Amen,” Daniel murmured, using his free hand to rub the sting of tears out of his eyes. What would he do without this incredible couple?
Just before he left, Mira pulled him into a loving hug. “We won’t say why, but we will let the others know to pray earnestly for you.”
“I appreciate it.”
He turned to Ben. They clasped arms, and Ben drew him into his embrace as well, clapping him encouragingly on the back.
“I know the days ahead will be rough, but Elôm wouldn’t bring you here and then abandon you. You can count on His presence to guide and strengthen you.”
Daniel nodded and they traded their goodbyes, which seemed much more difficult than any other visit before. Finally, he left the house, carrying their love with him as he trudged back to the palace.
When he arrived, he stopped and looked up the slope toward the hidden gate. His heart thumped hard and heavily, and his legs resisted going farther. He glanced over his shoulder to the east, in the direction of Landale, and then down the road to the shore and all the moored ships. So many different escape routes beckoned to him.
“Lord, I don’t want to go back in there. I don’t want to have anything to do with my father.” He paused. Ever since stepping into the temple yesterday, the thought of execution hadn’t scared him. Yet, standing here alone, staring up at the palace walls, the fear crept in with all the gruesome images of the executions he’d witnessed. His throat constricted, strangling his voice to a hoarse whisper. “I don’t want to die. If there is another way, I need You to make it clear to me.”
He waited a long moment, listening to the stillness. Only quietness surrounded him highlighting the gentle nudging toward the palace that a lingering, selfish part of him fought to ignore. With a quiet sigh, he nodded. “Whatever You will.”
And he climbed up to the gate and crept back into the palace.
A day and a half after leaving Arvael, the thick forest below thinned and gave way to enormous rolling slopes of fertile meadowland. Kyrin followed the others as they landed in one of these meadows for lunch and found that the lush grass almost reached her waist. Daisies and large blue bellflowers swayed in the breeze gusting down from the mountain peaks that towered just to their left. Meredith would have had such fun exploring the meadow and collecting daisies to weave into crowns.
Pulling her lunch from her pack, Kyrin walked over to Jace, where Gem stared intently off into the distance. A hundred yards away, some sort of deer trotted off toward the mountains. Kyrin’s eyes widened. The animal was as large as a horse. It seemed everything was bigger in Dorland, including the wildlife.
Gem let out a low grumble when the animal disappeared over a hill. Kyrin laughed, and Jace patted his dragon on the neck. “We’ll see about getting you something to eat soon.”
With deer that big roaming around, all their dragons would be able to eat enough to last them a week.
“We’ll reach Bel-gard within an hour,” Darq announced. “The Dorlanders are used to cretes coming and going from the city, so we’ll be able to fly straight to the royal palace.”
“Isn’t that a bit careless of them?” Rayad asked.
Darq shrugged. “Hospitality is their way. They give everyone the benefit of trust.”
Kaden snorted and nudged Talas. “So the exact opposite of the cretes then?”
Talas gave a dry laugh. “Basically.”
“Don’t get me wrong, though,” Darq went on, “they won’t tolerate any kind of hostility or cruelty. If there is one area Dorlanders move swiftly in, it’s justice when someone has been wronged.” He peered off to the south. “I’m hoping Prince Haedrin will be present today. King Orlan is a good man but doesn’t have the fire in his blood that younger Dorlanders might. The prince could potentially help sway his father if he were inclined to offer us aid.”
Kyrin silently prayed for Prince Haedrin’s presence when they met the giants today. Though everyone put up an optimistic front, she could sense the frustration they carried over their failure to secure allies in Arvael.
As much as she would have loved to linger in the peaceful mountain meadow and explore it with Jace, they were in the air again within twenty minutes. They flew lower now, allowing a good view of the surrounding terrain. Kyrin spotted many more large deer along the way, as well as herds of shaggy, gray mountain sheep in the foothills.
Almost an hour later, the untouched meadows gave way to cultivated fields full of equally fertile crops. Now, instead of deer, the grassy meadows were alive with cattle—large reddish-brown beasts with shaggy hair and long horns. Though they grazed placidly, Kyrin didn’t think she would want to come across an angry bull or a cow with her calf.
The farms were scattered and widespread, consisting of sturdy log houses and barns. Even from a great height, they appeared incredibly large. Kyrin couldn’t imagine what it would be like to come face to face with the giants. She felt small enough around Sam and Tane.
At last, a city appeared in the distance, constructed of hewn rock and built on the slope of a towering mountain, whose snow-capped peak disappeared into the clouds. Everything
looked half again the size of a normal city. Though built with simple architecture of clean lines and arches, it appeared as strong as the mountains themselves. From the top of a great wall that put even Samara’s border wall to shame, scarlet banners rippled in the breeze and sported some sort of white symbol. It wasn’t until they drew nearer that Kyrin was able to make out the shape of a hammer and pickaxe crossed at the center—simple and non-threatening.
Just ahead, on a plateau overlooking the city, rested an enormous castle built right into the mountainside. Again, it lacked the elegance of a palace like Auréa, but its magnificence far surpassed any other royal dwelling Kyrin had ever witnessed. At the base, behind a containing wall, lay an open stone courtyard. Here they angled downward and came to land near the gate. From the ground, they all stared up at the castle, rising at least eight stories above them in a magnificent display of precise construction.
The approach of solid footsteps dragged Kyrin’s gaze down from the almost dizzying sight of the castle, and she gained her first look at the giants. Two strode toward them, both barrel-chested and at least eight and a half feet tall. Each wore a matching black shirt and long red tabard the color of their banners. Thick leather bracers that could have been leg armor for anyone else were cinched around their massive forearms, and broadswords that must have been nearly as tall as she was hung at their hips. Neither made a move to reach for or even touch the weapons as they curiously regarded the group of dragon riders that had just landed right outside their stronghold. Even so, their alert eyes scanned the entire group. Kyrin wouldn’t want to be their enemy. Those swords could easily cut her right in half.
Darq slid off his dragon first to meet the two men, appearing as a mere child next to them.
“Captain Darq,” the older of the two guards said in a deep, powerful voice.
Darq nodded politely. “Halsen.”
The giant smiled through his thick chestnut beard, which had braids and metal beads woven into it. “You have an interesting group with you. Who have you brought to Bel-gard?”
“King Balen of Samara, as well as several from the Resistance in Landale. We seek audience with King Orlan.”
“King Balen,” Halsen said in surprise.
Now the rest of the group dismounted, and Balen joined Captain Darq. Even he looked small next to the giants. “Yes. My adoptive father, King Alton, knew your king well, but I have yet to personally make his acquaintance.”
“Welcome to Bel-gard, my lord,” Halsen said as he and the other giant offered a respectful bow. “Allow me to take you inside to King Orlan right away.”
He turned to the other guard. “See that their dragons are fed and left undisturbed.”
Kyrin shared a look with Jace. Considering the amount of meat required to feed all of their dragons, the giants were hospitable and generous indeed.
They followed Halsen across the courtyard to the wide steps of the castle entrance. The steps themselves were almost twice as tall as normal, and Jace offered Kyrin his hand to help her climb them. She glanced back at Leetra, who was the shortest of the group, just in time to see her grudgingly accept Timothy’s hand. Kyrin shook her head. Thank Elôm that she and Jace hadn’t needed to go through such a tedious process.
They passed through the arched gateway into the castle, which had not one, but two portcullises ready to drop into place, as well as an iron-enforced door that two hulking guards pushed open ahead of them. Inside was dim and a bit cold, but torches and tapestries of simple designs chased away much of the bleakness. Kyrin could barely make out where one huge building block ended and another began, they fit together so precisely. It was almost as if the entire castle were carved out of one single piece of stone from the mountain. The deeper they went, the more it appeared that way.
Down a long central hall, they reached another set of impressive doors. Just on the other side lay the grand throne room. Sturdy pillars along each side of the room supported the towering fifty-foot ceiling and led the way to the fur-draped throne at the far end. A man sat there, a little hunched, but with wide, powerful shoulders. His long hair and beard were nearly white, and his mustache was braided into two long braids with thick silver beads at each end. A simple silver crown rested on his head, and what looked like black bear fur trimmed the long scarlet cape draped around him.
Two more giant men stood before him, their backs turned to the group. Both bore long hair—one dark and the other a bit lighter. The lighter one had a two-edged axe strapped to his back, while the other had a longsword. Their rough leather and linen clothing wasn’t as fine as the guards’ apparel. More like farmers or woodsmen. Even so, they too sported braids and metal beads, which seemed to be typical of Dorland style.
As they drew nearer, the giant with the axe spoke, his voice taut with restrained aggravation. “We need men to help secure the ford and the surrounding area. Three men and a little girl have already died. It’s time a detachment of soldiers was sent to drive them out for good.”
King Orlan shook his head, his face regretful. “I cannot put soldiers near the border. Our relationship with Arcacia is tenuous. Any show of force could be seen as aggression.”
“By defending our own land?” The other giant threw his hands out in disbelief. “And what if Emperor Daican is behind these raids in the first place?”
“You said they were ryriks,” the king replied skeptically.
“Yes, but since when do groups of ryriks work in such an orderly fashion or together? Something is going on.”
“I will see if there are any volunteers to form a militia to help you defend your farms,” King Orlan told him in a pacifying voice. “Until then, I suggest you return home and take whatever precautionary measures you must.”
The other giant shook his head, clearly agitated.
Kyrin glanced at Balen. This already didn’t look promising for their group. If the king wouldn’t even send soldiers to defend his own people, how would he ever agree to help the Resistance?
“And tell Jorvik what?” the giant demanded. “That we’re on our own unless a militia decides to form and come to our aid? We all know the chances of that happening.”
Before King Orlan could reply, his attention shifted to the approaching group. They all paused several yards from the throne, and Halsen said, “Wait here.”
He walked up to the king and murmured something near his ear. The king’s thick white brows rose as he peered at their group again. His attention then returned to the other two giants, who had glanced back over their shoulders to see what had caused the interruption. Both were about in their thirties.
“I am sorry,” the king said, and the two giants turned to him once again, “but the ford has been a difficult area for centuries. Unless it presents a direct national threat, I cannot send soldiers there and risk a misunderstanding with the emperor.”
“Won’t, you mean,” Kyrin caught the older of the two giants mutter under his breath. His voice rose. “Our family has guarded the ford for generations, but if it falls now to enemy hands, it won’t be our fault.”
He gave a curt bow and turned to leave. The younger, darker-haired giant followed. They cast a curious glance at the group as they passed but did not stop on their way out of the throne room. When they were gone, the king’s attention settled solely on the group as they drew nearer to the throne. His light eyes held kindness and good intentions more befitting an old grandfather.
“King Balen,” he said, inclining his head.
“Your Majesty,” Balen replied, and everyone gave the giant king a bow.
“Welcome to Bel-gard. It has been some time since a king of Samara has visited these halls.”
“Thank you. I’ve long desired to visit your land. King Alton spoke of both you and your people with great respect.”
King Orlan smiled. “He was a good man and a good friend.” His gaze shifted to Balen’s left. “Captain Darq. It is good to see your face again. How is Lord Vallan?”
Kyrin exchanged a
look with her brothers and Jace. The king was very gregarious but seemed oblivious to more urgent matters.
“He is well, though there is much debate going on in Arvael.” Darq paused and seemed to be searching before he asked, “Is Prince Haedrin here? I know King Balen would be very pleased to meet him.”
Orlan gave a regretful shake of his head. “Sadly, no. He is up north inspecting some of the mines. But he should return in a few days. You’re welcome to stay and wait for him.”
A grimace crossed Darq’s face. King Orlan clearly didn’t notice, because he turned another welcoming smile to Balen. “What is it that brings you all the way out to Dorland, my lord?”
Balen glanced at Darq before he spoke. “I’m sure you’ve heard that Samara has fallen into the hands of Emperor Daican, and I’ve been living in exile in Arcacia for the last year.”
King Orlan’s weathered face finally took on a grim expression. “Yes, a terrible situation. You have my deepest sympathies.”
Kyrin held back a sigh. It wasn’t his sympathies they needed.
Balen took a step forward. “It is my intention to reclaim Samara and free my people from Daican’s oppression, but I can’t do it alone. That is why I am here—to seek the aid of you and your people who have long been friends and allies to those in Samara.”
Orlan’s face changed from sympathy to a more evasive frown. “It is not the way of the Dorlanders to become involved in these disputes. We are not a fighting people, nor do we have a large fighting force. It is better to resolve things peaceably than with war. I cannot advocate action that would make Emperor Daican our enemy.”
“What if he is already your enemy?” Balen questioned. “Has not Arcacia already claimed land beyond the river that rightfully belongs to Dorland?”
“That was before my time,” Orlan said. “As of now, Dorland has no quarrel with Arcacia.”
Exiles (Ilyon Chronicles Book 4) Page 18
