by Meg Cowley
Soren’s eyes dropped, ashamed of his outburst. With difficulty, he met the abbot’s piercing blue eyes, which still regarded him: unwavering and unfathomable. “I am sorry for my rudeness,” Soren apologised. “I see that I have much to learn about the world, and I understand that my first course of action will not always be the best. If you think it is best that I flee, although my heart loathes this feeling of cowardice, I will follow your advice and take to the mountains.”
“I am glad. You are already learning,” replied the abbot. “It relieves me to know you will be safe. I will send you with half a dozen of my best men into the hills, where you can look down upon our home and see what progresses. There are some caves where it will be more than comfortable to stay; we have them for times of retreat such as this. The rest of our men will stand and fight and that will give you the better chance of escape and success.
“I ask of you that no matter what you see, no matter which way the battle turns, that you do not return until it is over. I will post a scout to watch for Edmund and have him guided to your location. Once he arrives, if the fighting is not over, you must leave. Find the crown, prove you are the rightful king and restore peace and justice to the land. If your heart is true, you will not fail. Now promise me that you will not return to the battle!”
Soren hesitated, and then gave his agreement.
“I will hold you to your word.”
Soren shivered. The old man’s words had an irrevocable gravity to them. As Soren left to wash and dine before his departure, the abbot bade farewell to him.
“I fear we shall not meet again, Prince Soren. It has gladdened my heart that the babe I blessed those long years ago has grown into such a fine young man. I wish you all the luck in your struggle ahead and hope you have many happy years ahead of you.” The old man smiled.
“I will see you in a couple of days,” insisted the prince. His confident tone masked the shiver of premonition that the old man’s words had sent down his spine.
“I do not fear death,” replied the old man. “And I am ready to accept that that may be my fate over the coming days. Please accept my blessing for your journey, in case we do not meet again.”
Reluctantly the prince agreed. The abbot placed his palm on the prince’s forehead, anointed him with holy water and intoned a simple blessing. Bowing to each other, they murmured the traditional parting and the prince departed from his company.
“God be with you, sire.”
“God be with you, Abbot.”
Zaki
It was several days before the law reader, the steward and the heir apparent were brought together again, this time for the funeral of the Queen, who had lain in state for seven days. Zaki’s mood had not deflated; he felt elated since signing the last signature upon the papers.
The funeral was a grand affair, as it should have been, though muted with sadness with the entire city bedecked in black for the day. The square outside the cathedral was crowded in silent, black-clothed citizens. It was an awkward occasion; the grand Pandora cathedral held the nobility of Caledan within, yet there were significant and notable absences, Soren’s and Irumae’s most prominent of all.
As the next of kin, Zaki was involved in the proceedings, reluctantly playing the part of the grieving heir as he anointed Naisa’s body with holy water and incense and recited prayers over her form. Her hair had been meticulously cleaned so that not one trace of blood remained. He struggled not to smile.
Beside him in black and as quiet as ever stood Demara, her eyes downcast as they sat for the service on the cold stone pews. Zaki paid little attention and joined in to pray only when he noticed her hands clasp together beside him. Sooner than he thought, it was done and they returned to the palace for the parting feast.
The hall was full of sounds, light and aromas as all came together to celebrate the Queen’s memory, but the food tasted best of all in Zaki’s mouth as he savoured his success in manipulating himself on to the throne. He smiled at Demara, before excusing himself after a few courses to celebrate in private with his closest allies, leaving her isolated on the top table and ignored by all.
~
The noise of standing horses and men broke the silence. Filled with anticipation, Zaki sat tensely upon horseback with a detail of cavalry around him as he waited for the midnight bells to sound.
The first toll of the bell would signal midnight; the beginning of a new day and the end of the mourning period after Naisa’s funeral that day. Zaki would be free to leave Pandora and he had prepared for his journey so as not to waste a single moment.
Shuttered windows and closed storefronts watched him – the city slept.
The first sonorous toll rang out and he urged his horse into action. It thundered through the open east gate and his company surged after him.
It took less than a full day to reach the northern monastery, though he had outstripped most of his companions in his eagerness. It was made possible only by the constant supply of fresh mounts organised for him by Reynard and his own determination to obtain the crown of his ancestors. He did not pause to admire the sturdy build of the road, or the beauty of the forest, or the quaintness of the villages near the roadside. Inns flashed by as he rode with no desire to stop and sample their fares.
He was beyond tiredness as he came upon the encampment, filled with nervous energy as he shouted for Reynard, who ran from a tent.
“Your Royal Highness, I did not expect you so soon!” Reynard said. “I have much to tell you, sir.”
“Do you have the crown?”
“No sir, they will not release it to me.” Zaki smacked a tent post. “I do have fortuitous news, sir.” Reynard hastily continued. “There was an incident yesterday. We cannot be sure but it would appear that Soren has been given sanctuary within the monastery. We continue to surround it.”
Zaki turned to face him. His incredulity turned to glee. “Soren is trapped here? This is excellent news!” he crowed. “They have taken in a traitor. Their lives and worldly goods are forfeit. I can crush the both of them at once and ride home with the crown. Reynard, you have done well. Send all your forces to surround the place though the night. I want not even one rat to leave.”
Tomorrow is the day I prove myself king beyond doubt.
Eve
Eve felt reckless, emboldened by the wine as she stormed along the corridor to her chamber, heart thumping. Above the mild tingling of tipsiness, she felt the much more charged rush of anger, partly vented by slamming her door shut behind her. For a few moments she was motionless and leaned against it, but moved into her chamber, unable to still herself.
It was a month before midsummer and the weather warm and mild. No fire burnt in the grate, so her room lay pleasantly cool, illuminated by slow burning lamps. Dispelling some energy by pacing around the room, she turned again, unable to quell the raging inner monologue.
It will always be like this. I will always ask and he will always refuse. I could run away. The thought arose as it had many times before. “I’m old enough to take care of myself,” she contemplated aloud, distracted from her pacing.
“I know how to live off the forest and in any case, a horse could carry provisions for the journey. I can take a map from the library to show me how to find Ednor. I could even meet up with Edmund on route. No.” She paused to chew on a fingernail. “He might make me return.” It would have to be tonight.
Already halfway across her room to begin packing, she froze at the knock on her door. Her father opened it and peered in. His brows slanted in surprise when he beheld the bright room. She stood defensively as he entered, placing herself at the opposite side of the room as an awkward silence arose between them.
Eve kept her face impassive but the anger rose inside her once more at the unwittingly stalled attempt to break away. She waited, willing him to leave, yet her father seemed lost for words.
“I don’t want you to go to Ednor,” he said, with no hint of emotion. Eve narrowed her eyes at him. For
the moment, she held her seething temper in check. “Will you obey me?” he asked after she did not reply. Once more, she did not answer him. He sighed.
“I could keep you here for all your life whether you liked it or not, Eve,” he said as if he had taken her silence for an answer, yet there was no trace of anger or spite in his voice and he seemed half hearted. “I could lock you in your room and never let you out.” Eve tensed. Her eyes darted to the door, which he blocked, and to the now shuttered windows. There would be no escape if he willed it otherwise.
“Peace.” He held up a hand. “I do not wish that. I will allow you to travel to Ednor.” Eve’s eyes widened, but she did not dare to speak. Her anger subsided – surprise replaced it and then distrust followed.
“Why?” she finally managed to say.
“I have need of the Eldarkind’s counsel and although it pains me, you are my heir as well as my daughter. I ask that you present yourself to Artora as befits your rank and return at once with her counsel. Will you do this for me?”
Eve acquiesced – still confused but unwilling to reject his offer.
“Well then. It’s done,” he said in resignation. “You will leave tomorrow with your guards and Edmund until your paths separate. I’ll leave you to pack.” He left without another word. Eve sat on her bed, bewildered.
~
Eve rose with the sun, having barely slept for the anticipation of finally being allowed to visit Ednor, the home of the Eldarkind. She had packed, unpacked and repacked several times, unable to settle. Last of all, it was with a strange feeling that she picked up her bow and training sword.
She held the sword in her hand and stretched it out before her to tilt it this way and that, and watch the colourful dawn light dance off the blade. It was a beautiful but deadly object; somehow she could not marry the two ideas.
Hollows lay dark under Edmund’s eyes as he joined them for breakfast. He seemed in better spirits than the day before, albeit quiet. Karn also seemed withdrawn. Eve itched with anticipation.
Finally, Karn broke the silence.
“I trust your preparations have been made?” he enquired.
“Yes father. Nyle and Luke are readying the horses and provisions now. Your pack will be brought down for you,” she added to Edmund.
“Well then,” Karn replied. “We should not delay. You shall both depart as soon as you are done here. I will meet you in the courtyard.” He stood up and strode out, his mouth down-turned as he walked away from them.
An hour later, they assembled in the courtyard. Nyle and Luke sat mounted a short distance away whilst Karn bade farewell to his daughter and great friend. Eve observed her guards out of the corner of her eye, with her father’s words from the night before clear in her memory. Luke was her senior by a couple of years and although Nyle was older by several times that gap, they still felt young enough to be of her generation; she had trusted them as her friends. Their betrayal stung.
"I wish you both well," Karn said. His face was creased with worry. "May God be with you. Ride safely my darling and I hope for your swift return. Edmund, I hope that you face no great perils on your travels and that we may see you soon."
Edmund strode forward and clasped Karn by the shoulders. "Goodbye my friend. We shall meet again."
Eve threw herself at her father. He hugged her tightly in return and after a long embrace they stepped apart, Eve just concealing her excitement as she took Alia’s reins from Nyle and swung herself up into the saddle. The four trotted out of the courtyard with a clatter. Eve waved at her father who stood on the steps of the keep with a hand raised in farewell.
~
As Eve turned away, her father’s face remained impassive; she could not see the pain concealed beneath. The dust raised by the horses’ hooves swirled in the mild breeze before settling as he lingered and he wondered if he would ever see his daughter again, hear her laughter and see her smile.
He recalled times when, just older than her, he had also left home – to war – laughing and smiling with many of his friends. They had all looked forward to conquest and victory – but few had returned how much sadness and loss was wrought those long years past.
Unbidden, Karn remembered Eve’s vibrant and beautiful mother; snatched so long ago to the void and his impassive expression wavered as the image of her face swam before his eyes. He clenched a fist and strode back into the keep, all the way to his office where, once alone, he let his stern mask fall away.
~
They left using Eve’s secret exit from Arlyn so none would know of their passing. Eve led them, riding more slowly than she had previously to allow her companions to keep pace with her. It took two careful hours before they met the North road and were able to give the horses a good run.
Edmund led, with Nyle at the rear. Eve gazed at Edmund’s unyielding back, proud and straight before them, her thoughts strangely lucid and impartial. She had cantered this fast many times before for great distances on hunts with her father and thus far the day felt ordinary.
She tried to grasp the enormity of the coming unknown. Scenarios flashed in her mind as a small frisson gnawed at the pit of her stomach, though of fear or excitement, she could not be sure. Trying to distract herself, she gazed around. A quick glance to her left at Luke calmed her, as he caught her gaze and smiled, not having noticed her discomfort. She was glad for the familiar company before recalling that she was annoyed with him.
~
Far from Arlyn, the forest-covered foothills of the mountain range soared to their left, whilst the tree cover ended many unseen miles to their right, giving way to vast expanses of moors, grasslands and marshland and beyond that further still, the great lake across which Pandora lay. Villages and lone inns lay here and there along the road, wherever larger streams ran down from the mountains, but they rode through the villages and past the inns without stopping.
The road itself was busy. Being the sole clear path travelling north and south through this forest, it saw most of the wheeled and foot traffic in the area. Edmund feared his recognition or their presence being noted – especially Eve’s, who would be recognised in the area near Arlyn – and pushed them on.
Just before dusk, they halted on an unremarkable stretch of road where a small beck trickled across the compacted earth on its journey down from the hills, trundling across the road and into the foliage on the other side. The road lay deserted in the deepening gloom.
The four dismounted and led the horses along the stream towards the mountains until the trees hid them well out of sight and hearing of the road. A small clearing, scarcely big enough for the four of them to lie down in, became their camp. Edmund insisted they lit no fire. Luke and Nyle, ignorant of the importance of their mission grumbled until Edmund lightly pointed out that he was a proclaimed traitor. Although disgruntled, they were forced to accept the decline in comfort.
Eve was glad Edmund had not mentioned her own task. In her brief to Luke and Nyle she had neglected to tell them of the visit to Ednor, which would be problematic once revealed. She had not lied, having said they must travel with Edmund on his return north; the relief outweighed the guilt about what she told herself was a slight deception.
After lighting a small lamp and unsaddling the horses, they set to spreading out blankets on the mossy ground, which was dry with the recent mild weather, setting one further away from the others for Eve. It was the best they could manage for decency, given the circumstances.
She preferred to bed down next to Alia in any case. The great bulk of the horse close by gave her a sense of protection. Bears seldom ventured down from the hills this far, but smaller predators lived within the woods. Eve could tell Alia remained alert and uneasy in the unfamiliar settings as she and the other horses remained standing to sleep.
Nyle picked up his blanket and moved still further away towards the road to take the first watch, and the three others settled down for the night, fully dressed, boots and all. Edmund extinguished the lamp and the camp d
escended into peaceful darkness, save for the occasional snorting of a horse and the rustle of a blanket.
It was an uncomfortable, but uneventful night. Luke awoke Eve the following morning by hesitantly shaking her shoulder, whilst blushing at the impropriety of his actions. He began to stammer an apology, but stopped in his tracks when she sat bolt upright.
“What time is it?” she exclaimed. Nyle and Edmund stopped packing to glance at her in surprise.
“It’s around the seventh hour, my lady,” replied Nyle.
“Then why am I only waking now? Why was I not woken to sit a watch?” she demanded, extricating her legs from the blanket with difficulty. She stood with her arms folded and a scowl upon her face.
“We did not wish to wake you, Lady Eve,” said Nyle with a raised eyebrow.
“Am I not a member of this party?” she stormed. “Am I not fit to share in the night watch? I am my father’s sole heir and raised as such. I am not some mollycoddled maiden in distress to be pandered to. Luke, Nyle, you have trained with me for some years, am I not as capable as you to defend myself?” She glared at them.
After a pause and a glance at Edmund, the two men nodded. Edmund stepped forward.
“Lady Eve,” he said. “I understand their dilemma. You are the daughter of their lord. They are bound to serve and protect you and your house and also to respect and to honour you. They would not presume to dare to ask you to share in their duties, no matter how capable they may deem you to be.” She relaxed and bit her lip, as Edmund looked at the two sheepish guards. A wry smile flitted across his face.
“I also doubt they are aware of the gravity of the situation.” Edmund alluded to Eve’s task and his own mission. “I presume these are also the self same reasons they did not ask me to participate in the watch either.
