With a new wave of sobs, she wept, “I don’t want to be alone!”
In her turmoil there came a gentle whisper, not a true sound, but a whispering in her heart.
You don’t have to be alone.
“But how?” Makilien cried in agony. “Even surrounded by friends, I feel alone!”
Just one word came in answer to her question.
Truth.
Makilien clenched her fists and gritted her teeth. What is the truth? I’ve searched and searched for it! Her tears came hot and fast. I don’t know what it is! I don’t know how to find it! She remembered Torick’s words in Reylaun.
“The truth is available to anyone willing to believe it.”
“But how can I believe it if I don’t even know what it is?” Makilien shouted. “I left my home, I left my family, and I have searched! Why can’t I find it?”
She had no answer and the darkness, the loneliness, and the fear increased to the point Makilien felt like she was being crushed. It was almost as if the life was being drained from her body, and she had no energy to fight it. Maybe . . . maybe she should just give up and give in. What was the point in fighting it?
But a memory flashed in her mind, hazy at first, but gaining clarity. It was in the throne room the morning they had learned of Zirtan’s smaller force. Meniah had spoken to Captain Rollan, but in that moment it had seemed to Makilien the words had been spoken to her.
“Zirtan is a deceiver. He will use all form of trickery and deception to accomplish his purpose . . .”
Trickery and deception . . . the words echoed in Makilien’s mind. Deception is the opposite of truth . . . Zirtan is a deceiver . . . Zirtan is deceit . . . if he is deceit, then truth is . . .
Elohim.
Understanding dawned in Makilien and grew like a candle’s light brightening to light up the corners of a dark room. All this time she had been searching for truth, she’d really been searching for Elohim, and yet at the same time, turning away from Him.
“But I don’t have faith,” Makilien cried weakly. “How can I believe if I can’t see?”
But she realized she did see. Proof of Elohim was in her friends. In their strength, courage, and love for one another.
Yet, the more it became clear to her, the more a dark force poured fear and doubt into her heart. Trembling at the intensity of the struggle and afraid she was about to lose the fight, Makilien cried out, “Elohim, please help me! Give me faith!”
Makilien pushed herself to her knees, fighting against the weight pressing her down, trying to force her to give up.
“Elohim, I’ve been running from You.” Makilien’s voice shook and barely passed a whisper, but with each word, it grew stronger. “I do believe in You, and I know I need You. Rescue me from this evil.”
Makilien gasped as the weight lifted. All the fear, doubt, and darkness fled her heart, yet instead of emptiness, it was filled with peace and love. No longer was she alone. Now she understood what Halandor had tried to explain when they’d camped on their way to Minarald. She no longer feared the possibility of imprisonment or even death. Her soul was free.
Weary, Makilien slumped back against the footboard of the bed. Quiet sobs shook her shoulders, and she covered her face with her hands. But this time the tears were not out of despair, but out of joy.
“Thank You, Elohim,” she cried softly. “Thank You.”
Breathing deeply, Makilien smiled, marveling over how freely Elohim had given her His love even after she had been so steadfast in resisting Him. She wiped her tears and rose to her feet. She was weary, but the growing strength in her heart spread through her body. She looked at her reflection in the mirror and wondered again if her family would recognize her, but this time it wasn’t simply her war clothes that made her wonder. Her heart no longer held any uncertainties, and it showed in her eyes.
She was changed.
Makilien straightened and smoothed out her clothes. Taking a deep breath, she squared her shoulders, and a smile broke out again. She could do this. She no longer had to face the enemy alone. Elohim was at her side. She was ready.
Makilien blew out the candles, dimming the room, and walked to her door. She was so focused as she walked down the hall she almost didn’t notice Vonawyn come from the same balcony where she had talked to Meniah. The memory made her sad, but her heart was comforted.
When Vonawyn reached Makilien, she stopped, deep concern in her eyes. “Are you all right? You look like you’ve already been through a battle.”
Makilien half sighed, half laughed. “I have . . . but Elohim brought me through victoriously.”
Tears filled Vonawyn’s eyes, and she hugged her friend tightly. “Oh, Makilien, I’m so glad! I knew there was a struggle going on in you so I’ve been praying ever since I left your room.”
Fresh tears came to Makilien’s eyes. “Thank you, Vonawyn. I know your prayers helped.”
“Come,” Vonawyn said with a smile when they parted. “Let’s get you downstairs so you can tell the others.”
Everyone had gathered in the throne room. Their voices, more subdued than usual, mixed with the jingling chain-mail and clanking of plate-mail. When Makilien and Vonawyn walked in, the men all looked their way. Most eyes settled on Makilien. She walked ahead and met Halandor.
With deep concern for her, he put his hands on her shoulders. “Makilien, are you sure you want to do this?”
“I wasn’t sure,” Makilien confessed. “I was very afraid and wanted to give up, but . . .” she paused, a little smile growing on her face, “I finally found the truth.”
Understanding lit Halandor’s eyes and grew into a broad smile.
“I am ready to fight,” Makilien said confidently. She added a little more quietly, “To fight to honor Meniah’s memory.”
“As are we all,” replied Torick.
Emboldened, Makilien looked at each of her friends and said, “Meniah did not die only for Rollan and the men who followed him. He died for every one of us. If he had not sacrificed himself, we would have no hope of victory. He gave us hope . . . he gave us a way.”
All around were nods of hearty agreement.
With Makilien now among their number, everyone prepared to leave the palace. Vonawyn said goodbye to her brothers as Lorelyn embraced her husband. Vonawyn then smiled bravely at her father as her mother touched the faces of each of her sons. It was a sobering moment, each praying they would only be temporary farewells.
After her farewell to her father and brothers, Vonawyn went to Makilien.
“You will do well,” Vonawyn said with confidence. “I know you will. You are skilled, and Elohim will be with you every moment of the battle. You will also have my prayers.”
“Thank you so much, Vonawyn.” They hugged, lingering for a moment before parting.
On the way outside, Makilien glanced at her friends, noting how they had all prepared for battle. Halandor and Torick were equipped similar to Makilien in chain-mail hauberks and leather vambraces. Darand and Darian wore chain-mail underneath silver breastplates and pauldrons over their shoulders. Elnauhir and his sons were wearing Elven plate-mail, which was constructed in a way that would not encumber their swift reflexes. Sirion wore a combination of chain-mail and Elven-style leather armor, which reflected his mixed race.
Outside in the courtyard, the horses had already been gathered, including Antiro. His appearance was almost as different as his rider’s. Silver armor, decorated with stars, protected his face, neck, chest, and hindquarters. Though it was still cloudy, each polished piece shined.
Makilien rubbed the soft part of Antiro’s nose, right above his lip, the only part not covered by armor. “We’ve been through quite a lot of adventures together already, haven’t we?”
Antiro blew his warm breath into her palm and dipped his head.
“This is going to be our most desperate struggle yet,” Makilien went on. “I don’t think either of us ever thought we’d end up in something like this. Are you ready
to go into battle together?”
Antiro tossed his head and arched his neck proudly as he nickered.
Makilien smiled. “All right then.”
She walked around to his left side and mounted.
From the palace, everyone rode together toward the main gate. Soldiers, Elves, and horses crowded the streets, all moving en masse. Their faces were grim, yet determined. It was easy to tell the difference between the various types of soldiers. The soldiers of Eldor’s army wore chain and plate-mail with their familiar black embroidered jerkins over the top. The Elves matched Elnauhir and his sons in their armor, and the recruited soldiers from Eldor’s villages were dressed in assorted pieces of armor, no one person matching another.
At the wall, the horses were left in an area blocked off near the gate while their riders filed up the various stairs of the wall. Now Makilien wished she’d paid more attention to their strategy.
Moving Antiro close to Halandor’s horse, she asked, “What is the plan?”
“We’ll defend from the wall for as long as we can. Our goal is to keep them out of the city because once inside, they will destroy as much as possible. We hope to hold out here until Lord Glorlad and Lord Andron arrive. Then we will ride out to join them. But, if the wall is overrun or they break through the gate, we will have to ride out and hold them back. Nirgon will give the signal when it’s time.”
Makilien nodded in silence, knowing she would have to stay alert.
After leaving their horses with the others, they walked to the base of the wall where Nirgon was overseeing and giving orders.
“I’ve placed the Elves along the wall above the gate,” Nirgon informed Elnauhir. “They can take out the first onslaught of enemies at a distance, and then our archers will join in as soon as they draw closer. The dragons are out scouting. They will let us know when Zirtan’s force is close.”
Darand and Elnauhir nodded their approval and led the way to one of the stairs. Over sixty steps led up to the top of the wall. It was the first time Makilien had been at the top. The width of the wall was about twelve feet across. She stepped for a moment to the parapet, which reached just past her waist. Able to see far out across the plains, she saw nothing of Zirtan’s troops, but it was only a matter of time before the plains were stained by their presence.
Waiting was difficult, not truly knowing what was coming. Makilien tried to visualize an army of seventy-thousand men, goblins, and Shaikes, but it was beyond her imagination. Everything was quiet during the wait as they watched the horizon intently for the first sign of the dragons and the enemy.
In their anxiousness, time seemed to slow down, but less than an hour passed before three shapes appeared in the sky. A few moments later, Indiya, Emaril, and Carmine flew overhead. Armor on their heads, necks, and bellies to protect from arrows flashed as they landed on the wall near Darand and Nirgon.
“They are only two miles away, my lord,” Carmine announced. “They will be within sight very soon.”
“Thank you,” Darand told the dragons. “You can take your positions.”
Carmine nodded and moved down the wall while Indiya and Emaril took to the air again.
Nirgon swept his gaze over the army and shouted, “Everyone to your positions. I want all available archers to the front.”
The order was echoed by the captains. Makilien cast an uncertain glance up at Halandor. She had her bow, but did she qualify as an archer?
Halandor nodded, and Sirion touched her on the shoulder. “Come with me.”
She followed him a few yards down the wall where the Eldorian archers were lining up. The two of them took their places at the parapet. It gave Makilien a boost of confidence to have Sirion at her side. The feeling increased when a quick glance over her shoulder found Halandor and Torick right behind her in the line of swordsmen.
When she looked down the wall to her left where the main gate was situated, Lord Elnauhir’s Elves, including Loron, stood directly over it, ready to send down a deadly hail of arrows. Carmine flanked them on one side while Indiya and Emaril were on the other. All three dragons stood with their front claws gripping the edge of the parapet, poised to launch themselves off the wall and meet the enemy.
Behind the wall, the rooftops of the highest buildings were scattered with griffons. Makilien counted at least two dozen ready, like the dragons, to fly down and attack. The sight of all their plans and preparation put in motion was a magnificent.
Once every soldier had found his place, silence settled over the army as they focused their eyes to the east. Only the sound of the breeze fluttering their flags and banners surrounded them. Occasionally, chain-mail would jingle or plate-mail and leather would creak, but hardly anyone moved. Makilien could just about hear the beat of her heart with each suspenseful second that passed.
Then a quiet murmur rose from the Elves down the wall. The men shifted uneasily.
“They’re coming,” Sirion murmured.
Makilien squinted, straining to see the approaching army, but it was still out of the range of the Human eye. However, only minutes passed before she did see something, a darkness bleeding into the horizon. Indistinguishable at first, it quickly grew into a solid black mass, oozing across the plains. As the army drew closer, details became clearer. Soon it appeared more like a thick swarm of bugs devouring everything in their path. Makilien was confused they didn’t seem to be marching directly toward the city, but in a more northwesterly direction.
“Why aren’t they marching toward us?” she asked finally.
“They will march north until the entire force is gathered and attack the city head-on,” Halandor answered.
He was right. It took over a half an hour for Zirtan’s army to amass in one solid group about a mile north of the city. Makilien drew in a deep breath as the steady, seemingly unending stream of Zirtan’s troops surged the ranks of those already gathered in the distance. She had thought Eldor possessed a large force, but now seeing all seventy-thousand of Zirtan’s troops at once made their army appear pathetic and small in comparison. It was a frightening sight, the true extent of this army, the most frightening of all she had witnessed since leaving home.
Once they had fully gathered, Makilien waited with bated breath for them to begin their march on the city. But they did not move. For long minutes, they waited with silent expectancy. When Zirtan’s force still did not show any signs of movement, the men began murmuring to each other.
“What are they waiting for?” Makilien asked, the suspense churning in her stomach.
“Nightfall,” Torick said with low confidence.
Makilien turned to face him and Halandor. “They won’t attack until nightfall?”
“Probably not,” Halandor answered. “Evil loves darkness so Zirtan’s host prefers to fight under the cover of night.”
Looking out again at the army, Makilien grimaced. To fight them in the dark when they were most comfortable would be difficult and very dangerous. Fear mounted within her and she quickly turned to prayer. Elohim, I am afraid. Afraid of facing this enemy and being defeated . . . and I’m afraid of losing the friends I’ve made. I know now that You can protect us all. Please do. And please give me courage.
Though fear still lingered, calmness seeped into Makilien’s heart.
Farther down the wall, Carmine launched into the air and flew toward Zirtan’s army. Nirgon must have sent him to spy on the enemy and bring back information. Flying high, far above the danger of enemy arrows, Carmine circled the evil force. His ruby red scales were a stark contrast to the gray sky. He was only gone for a few minutes before returning.
“They are resting,” Carmine informed Nirgon. “They will likely not move for a couple of hours.”
After this report, everyone was still on edge, but this gave them a chance to rest and prepare as well. Makilien looked up at the sky. With the clouds so thick, she could not see the sun and could not tell the exact time, but she guessed they had only three hours until nightfall. Only three h
ours until the city was attacked.
Though Zirtan’s force wasn’t expected to attack until darkness, everyone remained in their positions, watching warily as they murmured with their companions. As she watched, Makilien noticed an occasional dark mass moving through the enemy army. These masses appeared to be much larger than anything else around them.
“What are the tall things I keep seeing?” she asked finally.
“Trolls,” Halandor answered.
Makilien swallowed nervously, hoping and praying she wouldn’t meet any of them while fighting.
As time wore on, Makilien grew weary of standing. To preserve her energy, she sat down against the parapet. Resting her head back, she thought of all she’d been through leading up to this point. She found her thoughts focusing on her family. It was as if they were a world away. She missed them deeply, and felt she loved them more now than ever. She was very regretful for the way things had been when she’d left. Makilien knew she’d been right to seek the truth, but in doing so, she had not given her parents, especially her father, the respect they deserved. All they had wanted was to protect her, but she hadn’t honored that.
Elohim, I want so badly to tell them I’m sorry and how much I love them. Please allow me a chance to do that, and to tell them of all I’ve learned here.
Makilien wondered what would happen to them if she died. Who would tell them the truth? This caused her to wonder what happened after death. She remembered Torick saying those who did not know the truth would be separated from it forever once they died. But what of those who did know?
From her position, Makilien looked up at Halandor. “What happens to us when we die?”
Halandor’s eyes dropped to her. A solemn look came to his face at the mention of death, yet Makilien caught a glimmer of hope also. “The spirit and souls of those who have believed the truth will immediately join Elohim in His Kingdom, an eternal paradise where they will live forever.”
The peace and comfort of that filled Makilien’s heart. At least if she died tonight, she knew exactly where she’d go.
Truth: Makilien Trilogy - Book 1 Page 19
