Sitnalta dutifully took a few bites before she asked him again.
“Well?” She eyed the troll as if daring him to evade her questions again.
Najort realized he was not going to get out of it so easily.
“It is a coin,” he started. “A man named Kralc left it in my care sixteen years ago. He told me to protect it. Not to let it fall into the wrong hands.”
“It must be extremely important then!” Sitnalta said, a thoughtful look on her face. “I wonder what it does. If it came from a wizard, which is what I am assuming this Kralc was, it must have powers. Maybe it makes people rich. Or it could be a dangerous weapon in disguise! It completely annihilates whole kingdoms with a thought. Or it could have an evil, vindictive spirit trapped inside. It could be a prison of sorts!” The coin had taken over her imagination, and she was off and running, coming up with various things of which it might be capable.
Najort sat and listened. He had learned early on that it was best not to interrupt her. Finally, it appeared she had run out of steam.
“Well?” she asked him. “Am I right?”
“About which theory?” Najort said with a small laugh.
“Any of them!”
“You were right about a lot of them,” Najort said.
Sitnalta looked at him confused. “How could I be right about a lot of them? They were all so different.”
“The coin grants wishes,” Najort explained. “It can give you anything you want. Whatever you ask it for, it can give you.”
A strange look came over Sitnalta’s face. The possibilities were endless. She could wish to get out of the mess she was in. She could wish none of this had happened. She could wish Supmylo were not such a horrible tyrant. Her heart was beating painfully fast. A lump had formed in her throat. She knew what she wanted more than anything. If she had her choice of one wish, she knew what it would be.
“Anything?” she choked out.
Najort sensed danger here. “That is what I was told. Yes. Why do you ask?”
She licked her lips. “May I—may I use it?”
“What?” Najort should have expected this.
“The one thing I want more than anything—the one thing I need—it can give it to me. I am not the ‘wrong hands,’ you know that! Let me. Please.” It felt as if she were being wrenched apart. “I need her!”
Sitnalta heard Najort take in a sharp breath. His heart was breaking. He saw the intense longing in her eyes. He wanted so desperately to say she could. He wanted to be able to give her the coin—to give her everything. But he knew he could not. He had made a vow.
“Please,” she pleaded with him.
Najort shook his head. “I would not do that. She wouldn’t be the same. Bringing someone back from the dead changes them. It wouldn’t be right.”
“Damn you!” Sitnalta cried at him. She got up and took off into the forest. Najort just sat there unmoving. He just prayed she would forgive him and come back.
Chapter Seventeen
Sitnalta ran. Branches whipped her arms and stung her cheeks. She did not care. She just ran. She did not know which way she was headed; she just knew it was away from him. Away from the glen—away from the cave—away from the coin—away from Najort.
Her rational side knew that Najort was right. He could not possibly let her make that wish. It would mean him breaking his vow to Kralc. But aside from that, how would she possibly explain the sudden reappearance of the long-dead Queen Learsi? If they were found, the consequences would be terrible. And yet, Sitnalta was not listening to her rational side. She was listening to the burning need in her heart. She was listening to the part of her that desperately cried out for the mother she never knew, but sorely wanted.
Suddenly Sitnalta came to a stop. Her ears pricked, listening intently. The sound of hoof beats reached her, growing steadily louder with each passing second. She frantically looked around, knowing she had to get out of sight. Louder and louder they came; the thudding of horseshoes in a steady rhythm. Sitnalta acted on instinct, doing the only thing she could think of and bolted up the nearest tree. She knew it was absurd, but she grabbed a handful of acorns to use as a miniature arsenal should the need arise. The hoof beats came closer—closer—louder and louder.
The glistening chestnut stallion burst through the trees. Sitnalta could see the rider sitting proudly atop his mount. His uniform bore the green and yellow colours of the Kingdom of Sarrin. This had Sitnalta momentarily confused. The rider was a tall man in leather breeches. His brown hair was streaked here and there with grey, and his face had a determined set to it. Sitnalta felt he looked quite unfriendly. She shifted on her perch to get a closer look, rustling the leaves of the tree. The rider spotted this movement, and jerked the horse to a standstill to peer around and try to ascertain the source. He squinted, peering up into the tree. Sitnalta shrank back, pressing herself right up against the trunk. Perspiration beaded her brow. She clutched the acorns tight in her fist, praying she was invisible to the man on the horse. She briefly considered the idea of hurling her acorns at him and running for it, but realized she could never outrun a horse such as this. No matter how well she knew the forest. She could swear his eyes met hers. She could feel them bearing down upon her. She desperately wrenched hers away from him. Her dress was positively soaked through now. She felt sticky and tense. Her muscles screamed at the position she was in.
He looked around a few moments longer. To Sitnalta, they felt like years. Finally, he felt satisfied that there was no one around. He rode off. Sitnalta counted a long ten seconds before allowing herself a sigh of relief. She relaxed her sore muscles. Going over the situation, Sitnalta realized what this must mean. Supmylo was undoubtedly searching for her, as she had known he probably would. However, he was clearly not doing it alone. King Gerald was evidently his ally in this. If the two Kings had sent their combined forces into the forest, it was only a matter of time before she was found and Najort’s cave was discovered. If anybody had the wrong hands for Kralc’s coin, it was King Supmylo. Najort had to be warned before it was too late.
Sitnalta rushed headlong into the clearing, eyes wide, and lungs heaving. She stopped just short of the mouth of the cave.
“Najort!” she gasped. “Najort, where are you?”
Najort heard her call and came out to see her. He stood in front of her, took in her state of disarray, and knew something was wrong. Her dress was torn and her hair was in tangles. Her face was streaked with sweat. He had been practicing an apology in the hours she had been gone, but now, seeing her so clearly disturbed, he completely forgot what he had planned to say. He stood waiting for her to speak.
“Najort. There are men—I saw one horse—a man riding in the forest. They’re searching. I fear they’ll—what if they find it—me. What if they find us?”
Najort relaxed. This he could handle.
“Sitnalta,” he said. “I am not worried about that. They never come this far into the forest.”
Sitnalta could not understand how he could be so calm.
“But they will!” She was practically yelling at him. “This time they will! Don’t you see? And when they find you . . .” She shuddered at the thought of what would happen to Najort in the hands of Supmylo’s men.
“Sitnalta, calm down. Please. I assure you, nothing will happen to me, or to you. They will not come here.” He paused. “I have seen to that.”
“What do you mean?”
Najort regarded Sitnalta sheepishly. “I sort of saw to it that word has gone out about a man-eating troll who lived deep in the forest. If I am to be stuck here guarding an all-powerful treasure of sorts, I cannot have visitors dropping in uninvited all the time. Can I?”
Sitnalta was not convinced.
“How did you manage that?” she asked him. She thought he must have been joking.
“Well, you let yourself be seen a few times here and there, make some fearsome faces, add a few threats, and let imaginations take care of the rest. Quite f
rankly it’s so simple, it borders on pathetic really.”
Sitnalta started to walk away, feeling guilty. “Well, that was all very well and good—before . . .”
Najort followed her. “Before what?”
“Before I came! Don’t you see, the men are here searching for me. They have a goal. They are not just going out for a ride in the woods. I can guarantee you that they will not leave until I am found.” She turned to face him. “My very presence here is a danger to you. You and that coin.”
Najort was quiet for a moment before asking, “Why should I and the coin be in danger as well? I mean they are not looking for us.”
“If my father’s men find you anywhere near me, you will be locked away forever, if not killed. They will tear your home apart just for spite. They will find the coin. And if my father finds it, we are all doomed. You see my father is the worst sort of person to possess such power. Everyone knows that.”
“I do not,” Najort said. He had a sinking feeling deep in the pit of his stomach. “Should I?”
“My father is King Supmylo. Ruler of Colonodona,” Sitnalta told him in a hollow voice.
Najort sighed. This was the sort of thing he’d been dreading.
“Well, that does complicate things,” he said. “But, it’s been his men I’ve been avoiding all these years. I sincerely do not think they’ll come this far. In their minds, I’m a terrible beast. I’m sure they feel that, should they have the misfortune to encounter me, they would be as good as dead.”
Sitnalta shook her head in frustration. He would not see reason!
“But they are not just his men! He has joined forces with King Gerald of Sarrin. It was one of Gerald’s men I saw out there today.”
“Why should King Gerald be looking for you?” Najort wondered out loud.
Sitnalta looked away uncomfortably.
“Oh. I see,” Najort said, finally understanding the entire situation. “It was he that you were to marry. Well then. If they come here, we’ll just keep you out of sight.”
Sitnalta opened her mouth to protest.
“No. Do not say anything. This is my home, Sitnalta. I will not run away. Neither King Supmylo, nor King Gerald will make me budge from this spot. I give you my most solemn vow that I will not let anybody harm you. And I always take my vows seriously.”
With that said, Najort turned and walked back into the cave. Sitnalta hesitated a moment before she too went to join him. She was not going to let either of the Kings scare her off this time either.
Chapter Eighteen
To say that King Supmylo was in a foul mood would be an understatement. It had been a month and still no one had found a trace of the Princess anywhere. The two guards that had been posted in front of her door the night she had run off had been imprisoned and executed three days later. King Supmylo was itching to see more heads roll. Now he had Captain Ipsinki and his loyal Fred trembling in fright before him. Ipsinki nervously ran his fingers through his dark curls, his long lanky body shaking uncontrollably. Fred was sweating tremendously. His corpulent form was slick and shining.
“So,” Supmylo began. He was sitting behind his desk. A fire raged in the hearth behind him, framing him in a sinister light. “The village was clear.”
“Y-y-yes, Sire.” Ipsinki could not stop his voice from quavering. He swallowed. He knew the King could sense his fear, and he hated himself for not having more self-control.
“As were the mountains.”
Ipsinki and Fred both nodded.
“I do not believe I heard you,” said the King. He gave the two men a lethal scowl.
“Yes, Sire.” Fred squeaked.
“Better. That leaves the forest. Since she clearly is not anywhere else, through the process of elimination, she must be there. Tell me, Ipsinki, why have your men not found her there? You clearly turned everywhere else upside-down. The Princess did not disappear into thin air, now did she? Why is she still missing?”
What little patience Supmylo had, he was now quickly losing.
Both men hesitated. Fred was wringing his hands. Ipsinki was staring around the room wildly as if the answer would be found on one of the walls.
“I-I-I . . .” was all Ipsinki managed to get out.
“Yes?” prompted the King.
“We have not searched through the entire forest,” Fred blurted out.
Ipsinki shot him a crazed look, and his hand lashed out catching Fred on the side of the cheek.
“Why not?” Supmylo roared.
“Well you see, Sire, . . .” Ipsinki tried stalling. In his mind, he was fishing wildly for a way he could escape this with his head still attached to the rest of him. He just hoped Fred would be smart enough to keep his mouth shut.
“The troll!” cried Fred.
Ipsinki felt all hope leave him. He kicked Fred in the shin, to punish his stupidity; grateful that Supmylo’s massive desk hid this action. Fred winced in pain.
“Troll?” Supmylo’s eyebrows shot up. He looked at his two men incredulously.
Once again, Fred ignored Ipsinki’s not so subtle hints to keep his mouth shut. He plowed on, optimistic that the King would understand.
“Yes! The troll! We didn’t go far into the forest because there is a troll there! Many of the men have seen it! Seen it, I say, with their very own eyes! They say it feasts on human flesh! Begging your pardon, Sire, but if the Princess did go so far into those foul woods, she’s a goner. Troll stew, you know! We soldiers don’t want to share such a fate.” Fred stopped talking and looked at the King wide-eyed. Ipsinki hung his head, feeling this may be one of the last moments he may actually have a head to hang.
“Ipsinki,” drawled Supmylo, cocking his head at the captain. “Do you also share this—belief in the troll that stalks the forests in the hopes of devouring my men?”
Ipsinki shook his head. It felt heavy atop his shoulders.
“No, Sire,” he said quietly.
“Good.” Supmylo gestured towards Fred. “Take this man to the dungeons and find a new second-in-command. Preferably one who does not believe in the bogeyman,” he said, as he waved them towards the door.
“Come along, Fred.” Ipsinki gently took Fred by the arm and started to lead him out.
“But, Sir . . .”
Fred felt frozen to the spot. He could not believe that his captain had betrayed him like that. He knew that Ipsinki believed in the troll just as much as all the rest of the men. He had to make Supmylo see that. Maybe then the King would understand.
“Sir! Captain! You know s’well as I that the troll is real. You believe too! I know it! We all do! Tell him! Tell the King!” he addressed Supmylo. “He does! The captain does! Please, Sire. Don’t do this! I’m a good soldier! Always been loyal! Swear it!”
“Fred . . .” Ipsinki tugged harder at his arm, trying to prevent any more of a scene than what had already happened. Fred started to move and Ipsinki succeeded in dragging him out of the King’s study, passing King Gerald who was on his way in.
King Gerald gave the two men a quizzical look before taking a seat across from Supmylo, facing him.
“I take it their news was not good,” he stated.
“My men are beyond useless,” Supmylo growled. “What news do you have for me?”
“More of the same, I’m afraid. She’s nowhere to be found,” King Gerald said. “I, for one, do not understand it. How can a princess disappear so completely? It does not make any sense. No sense at all.”
King Supmylo grunted in reply. The two lapsed into an uncomfortable silence that seemed to drag on for hours until King Gerald broke it.
“Did your men have anything constructive to say—anything at all? What do they think happened to her?”
“My men are worse than imbeciles. All I asked of them was to facilitate the implementation of their strategic goals and objectives,” Supmylo said.
King Gerald stared at him blankly. “Yes, but what do they think happened?”
Supmylo let out a lo
ud barking laugh. “Would you believe that my captain’s second-in-command suggested that she had been eaten by a troll? His exact words were ‘Troll stew,’ I believe. Ridiculous, is it not?”
King Gerald kept the blank look on his face, “Indeed.”
“Yes. He is, of course, now an ex-second-in-command. We shall see if the dungeons will cure him of his silly notions regarding trolls in my forests.” Supmylo began examining his fingernails. “So—your troops are faring no better?”
“I am sorry, my friend. This is true.” King Gerald paused, as if considering a matter of great importance, than leaned forward in his chair. “Your Kingdom is also bordered by the sea, is it not?”
“What are you suggesting? She swam away?” Supmylo laughed long and loud. “Do not be absurd! She can’t swim! Not a blessed stroke!”
“Perhaps a boat?” King Gerald suggested.
Supmylo calmed down, and was serious once more. “No. I have looked into that. No boats were scheduled to leave around the time of her disappearance. We have since been strictly monitoring all those coming in and out of the port.”
“Ah, I see.” King Gerald put on a satisfied expression. “So that logically leaves only the forest.”
“Yes. That only leaves the forest.” Supmylo repeated.
“But the troll . . .”
“Poppycock. Absolute rubbish.” Supmylo banged on the desk to emphasize his point.
“From what I hear, your men do not agree,” King Gerald said smoothly.
“My men are fools.”
“Aye, but fools who fear the forest.” King Gerald smiled genially at Supmylo. “Let them have their fear my friend. My men will search the forest exclusively for you—top to bottom. They know nothing of the troll, so they know of nothing to fear.”
Supmylo instantly took offense. “You feel my men are cowardly?” he hissed in anger.
“Oh no, Sire.” King Gerald tried desperately to backtrack out of the situation. “I was merely . . .”
“You were merely suggesting that your men could do a better job than mine!” Supmylo was livid. His eyes flashed dangerously.
Sitnalta (Sitnalta Series Book 1) Page 7
