by Chuck Black
“He is much more than that,” Julian said. “He is now ruler of the United Cities, but we believe he is being supported by sources outside the region. These are dark days for Cameria, and we must do something to change what is happening before it’s too late.”
Julian kicked his horse, and Rowan and Mariah followed him into the camp of the Resolutes. Looking around at the crowds of people living in spartan circumstances, Rowan marveled at the commitment of these people … people who had come from all across the region to join the cause. There are pivotal times in the life of a city, a region, and even a kingdom that will be determined by the actions or inaction of the people who abide within them. Rowan knew he was witnessing such a time and that he was now an inseparable part of it.
Stirred by the momentum of fourteen thousand noble people on a mountaintop overlooking the kingdom, Rowan remembered the words of the Prince from a long-ago dream. Your life is not over, for you are a mighty knight of the King. Time is short, and I have a mission that awaits you.
“Surely this is it,” he whispered to himself. “How can there be a greater mission than to bring liberty to the great land of Cameria and her people?”
FLIGHT OF THE EAGLE
Julian brought Rowan and Mariah to the training grounds of Eagle’s Nest, where Sir Aldwyn was occupied with the task of managing the training of over five hundred men, women, and youths. As they approached, Aldwyn was meeting with fourteen trainers and giving instructions for the day. He looked up and stopped midsentence, fastening a stunned gaze on Rowan. When he didn’t continue, the trainers all turned and looked at Rowan and Mariah too.
“That is all for now,” Aldwyn finally managed. “Dismissed.”
Rowan dismounted and walked toward Aldwyn through the stream of dispersing knights. Aldwyn just stood and stared.
“Rowan?” he finally asked.
Rowan just nodded, not sure what sort of greeting his mentor would give him.
“Rowan?” Aldwyn asked again. This time he started walking toward him.
“It is I, Sir Aldwyn,” Rowan said.
At that, Aldwyn quickened his pace to close the distance between them. His mouth hung open in an expression of utter disbelief.
Rowan put out an arm of greeting, but Aldwyn pushed past it and threw his arms around him. Rowan returned the embrace, his heart warmed by the gesture.
Aldwyn stepped back but did not let loose of Rowan. His eyes shone with joy as he realized that his protégé was indeed alive and standing before him.
“Please forgive me, Sir Aldwyn. I was such a fool.” Rowan hadn’t expected to feel such strong emotions wash over him as he stood before the man who had dedicated a portion of his life to lift a poor street urchin out of the gutter. His eyes welled up.
Aldwyn put a hand to Rowan’s face. “Thank the King you are alive, my son.”
Son? Aldwyn considered him his son? Rowan lowered his gaze to the ground, thinking how little he deserved that title.
Aldwyn embraced him once more, then put an arm around him to lead him away. “We have much to talk about … and prepare for,” Aldwyn said.
“Wait,” Rowan motioned to Mariah, who still sat patiently on her horse beside Julian. “There’s someone I’d like you to meet.”
Mariah and Julian dismounted as Rowan and Aldwyn approached.
“Sir Aldwyn, I’d like you to meet … Lady Mariah.” Rowan looked questioningly at her.
“It’s all right,” she said with a smile. “I’ve just told Julian.”
Julian smiled sheepishly as Rowan finished his introduction. “My wife.”
Aldwyn’s eyes lifted; then a wide grin crossed his face. He took Mariah’s hand and bowed low to kiss it. “I am honored, my lady. Now I see and understand why Rowan’s eyes glow with joy.”
“Rowan speaks nothing but great admiration for you, good sir,” Mariah replied. “I am pleased to meet you.”
Aldwyn invited them into the training cabin and offered them food and drink. Rowan looked in wonder at the collection of arms stacked neatly in the corners of the cabin.
“What’s happening here, Aldwyn?” Rowan asked once they were settled around a table. “Are things truly so bad in Laos that this is necessary?”
“Lord Gavaah rules Cameria,” Aldwyn said soberly. “And each day his grip becomes tighter and tighter. He has commandeered the people’s homes and land, banned all orders of knights except those that accept his new statutes, and imprisoned anyone opposing his authority. Those who remain and abide under his rule have been lulled into believing that his control is for their own good, but those who love freedom and recognize what he is doing are willing to fight against him.”
“You’ve seen this coming for a long time, haven’t you?” Rowan asked.
The older man nodded. “I tried to tell you, but you were … preoccupied.”
Rowan dropped his eyes, embarrassed again by who he had been.
Aldwyn laid a hand on his shoulder. “I had no idea, however, that Gavaah was behind the changes … or that his influence would expand so quickly.” He took a sip of his warm drink. “But what is happening in Laos is just one of many, Rowan.”
Aldwyn paused to look at Mariah and Julian. Julian was nodding. “This is really all about Chessington. Gavaah is just a pawn of Lord Malizimar, and Malizimar of Lucius himself. We’ve heard disturbing news of another tyrant rising to power within Chessington—a man by the name of Alexander Histen.”
Aldwyn paused to see if the name meant anything to Rowan. When Rowan looked at him blankly, he went on. “We know almost nothing about Histen, but from the reports we are getting, he is a charismatic leader who is more dangerous than ten Lord Gavaahs. His influence in the kingdom is spreading quickly. And with Gavaah ruling Cameria, Chessington is getting almost no support, so its citizens’ ability to fight back against Histen has nearly been eliminated.”
Rowan and Mariah looked at each other with grave concern showing on their faces.
“We’ve come to join you and your cause.” Rowan reached across the table to hold Mariah’s hand. “We will fight for Cameria and its freedom.”
“We are grateful to have you,” Aldwyn said sincerely. “Now your sword will fly for something of true value.”
“What plans are being made?” Mariah asked.
“I’m not at liberty to say just yet,” Aldwyn said. “Come to the council meeting tomorrow. Sir Whitley will be announcing our plan, or at least a portion of it.”
Rowan’s reunion with Sir Aldwyn was both sweet and foreboding, for the news of conditions in his home region was extremely disturbing. Only now did Rowan fully appreciate the freedoms he had once enjoyed and had now lost.
By late afternoon, news that the former Laos tournament champion had joined the Resolutes spread quickly throughout the encampment and bolstered the morale of the people there. Though it had now been nearly two years since his tournament days, Rowan’s fame had evidently not diminished, nor had his favor with the people. He was actually quite embarrassed by all the attention he received, since the tournaments seemed like frivolous entertainment compared to the significant actions the people were taking here. He considered them the true heroes now, and he said so. But after his first few fumbled attempts to express his humility, Mariah helped him turn the praise they gave him to the Prince, and he was grateful to her for the help.
That evening, after Julian had arranged a place for Rowan and Mariah to stay, Mariah’s father returned from his mission. Sir Fairchild was a tall man with hair as dark as Mariah’s, though his was in the process of turning white at the temples. He was a distinguished-looking knight, but his dignity softened into delight when he caught sight of his daughter. After a tearful reunion, Sir Fairchild welcomed Rowan into the family as a son.
The next day, Rowan and Mariah followed Julian and Fairchild up the valley to the point on the mountain where the caves began.
“Where are we going, Father?” Mariah asked.
“I want to show you some
thing quite remarkable,” he said with a smile.
They entered a part of the encampment that was significantly different from where they had been. Two buildings and seven large tents buzzed with frenetic activity. A variety of tall structures had been constructed from wood, steel, and rope for a purpose Rowan couldn’t possibly imagine.
He and his comrades ducked through one tent to see dozens of men and women working fervently on a strange-looking apparatus. The four visitors walked toward a large table where three men were bent over, examining sheets of vellum full of sketches and notes.
“Sir Scott,” Fairchild called.
The men he addressed seemed lost in thought and conversation, oblivious to Fairchild’s call or the group’s approach. One of the men finally jabbed and pointed, and a spry young man looked up, running his hand through wavy reddish hair.
“Sir Fairchild,” he said with a broad grin. “I didn’t see you come in.”
“You never do,” Fairchild said with a wink toward Rowan and Mariah that Sir Scott totally missed because he had turned away to make a mark on the vellum with a quill.
“What can I do for you?” Sir Scott asked when he turned back around.
“I’d like you to meet my daughter, Mariah, and her husband, Sir Rowan,” Fairchild said.
Sir Scott came toward them and extended a hand. “I’m pleased to meet—”
“The Sir Rowan?” one of the other men exclaimed, interrupting Sir Scott. The man came straight for Rowan with eyes wide, holding out his hand.
“I’m not sure what you mean by that, sir,” Rowan asked, wishing the man didn’t mean what he knew he did.
“Sir Rowan, tournament champion of Laos? The one presumed dead?” This fellow was taller than Scott and a bit huskier, with a fringe of dark brown hair. He shook Rowan’s hand with enthusiasm.
Rowan hung his head sheepishly. “I did fight in the tournaments—”
“He’s the one.” Mariah stuck out her hand while casting a sly grin back at her husband.
Sir Fairchild looked at Rowan with a new measure of respect, then back to Sir Scott’s colleague. “I didn’t know you followed the games so closely, Sir John.”
“I thought everyone did,” John replied incredulously. “Everyone knew of the great Sir Rowan.”
Rowan shook his head. “That’s not what I—”
“Jeffrey,” John reached back and nudged the third man, who was still hunched over the vellums. “Get your head out of that drawing and come meet Sir Rowan … and his wife. Our younger brother lives in a different world sometimes,” John said with a smirk.
Rowan nearly laughed but caught himself. From his perspective, all three of them seemed to live in a different world.
The third fellow, a very young man with a slender build and a mop of white blond hair, stood straight and came to greet them. He was quiet, hardly uttering a word, and he didn’t seem to care much about Rowan’s fame—which annoyed Sir John and comforted Rowan. He shook Rowan’s hand, his eyes narrowing as he scrutinized him up and down.
“We’ll have to increase the span and thicken the spars for this one,” he said.
Sir Scott nodded. “Yes … could be a bit of a challenge. More tests will have to be run.”
Rowan looked at Mariah, and she shared his perplexed look.
An amused smile played on Fairchild’s face. “Sir Scott, would you mind explaining your work to Rowan and Mariah?”
Sir John grabbed Rowan’s shoulder. “We’ll do better than that. We’ll show them. We’re just about ready to make our maiden voyage … with a real rider!”
Now Rowan was really confused, but intrigued. He and Mariah followed John, Scott, and Jeffrey through the tent and into a small field where the valley dropped quickly away before flattening out again far below them. A large wooden platform had been built at the edge of the drop-off, and sitting on the platform was the strangest object Rowan had seen in his entire life. Two men and a young woman were making adjustments to an unwieldy-looking triangular structure made of wood and some kind of thin sheeting. It rested atop three supports. Below it hung a wooden bar and a leather harness. On the ground near the base of the wooden platform, a team of people fussed over an individual wearing leather armor and a tight-fitting helmet, who seemed quite annoyed at all the attention. As they approached, Rowan noted the excitement in the people’s voices.
“Are you sure you’re up for this?” a young woman as tall as Mariah asked the suited individual. “It’s not too late to back out, Annie.”
“Of course I’m up for it,” a determined female voice replied from beneath the helmet. “Let’s get on with it.”
“How are we doing, Dyanne?” Sir Scott asked the tall woman. At the sound of his voice, she turned to greet them.
“All is set,” she said with a sly grin, “including the rider.”
“Sir Rowan … Lady Mariah, please meet our sisters. Lady Dyanne,” he motioned toward the tall woman. “Lady Elizabeth,” Scott motioned up toward the platform, where a thin, dark-haired woman waved down toward them and then turned back to check the sheeting on the wing one more time. “And Lady Anne”—he nodded toward the suited woman—“the only one light enough … and gutsy enough … to ride our first wing.”
With hands on her leather-clad hips, Lady Anne nodded and shot them a quick smile.
“What is this?” Rowan finally asked, gesturing to the big triangle.
“This, Sir Rowan, is a glider,” Scott said with pride. “Jeffrey?” Scott turned to his younger brother, who held up a smaller model of the wing structure on the platform. It was about as long as his forearm.
“Watch,” he said, and he walked to the edge of the drop-off, where he gave the glider model a gentle push. It swooped downward at first, then glided in a beautifully smooth trajectory toward the valley.
Rowan’s eyes widened as he began to understand what was happening here. He looked back up at the wing and then down at the rider.
“You are going to—” He couldn’t finish the sentence because it seemed so absurd.
“Exactly!” Sir John said with a grin. “We tested it with weights similar to a person, but this is our first time with a rider.”
Rowan couldn’t believe what he was seeing and hearing. This was the stuff of fairy tales. He caught Mariah’s eye, and she seemed equally stunned by the idea.
Lady Anne reached for the steps to climb the platform. “The wind will be up soon,” she said, “so let’s get on with it.”
By the time Lady Anne was strapped in the harness, many others from the encampment had lined up along the edge of the drop-off to watch the amazing event. Two men held the wing steady for her as she prepared herself. Lady Elizabeth made a few more tweaks on the harness, then put her hand on her sister’s shoulder.
“The Prince is with you,” she said soberly.
Lady Anne nodded. She walked to the edge of the platform and hesitated. The ground below fell away fast—too fast for her to survive if the wing didn’t work. Rowan felt his heart racing as he considered what this brave young girl was offering to do. He felt Mariah’s hand grip his and knew she felt it too.
The moment lingered, and Rowan wondered if perhaps Lady Anne had changed her mind. But suddenly she launched herself into the silent air below. The crowd gasped as the wing plummeted down toward the rocks and dirt. Rowan wanted to turn away as Lady Anne’s feet skimmed the hillside. Then she slowly lifted away, gliding like an eagle up from its dive into a valley.
Cheers from a thousand spectators rose as the wing floated effortlessly down the valley off to the northern side of the encampment. They watched with great anticipation as Lady Anne neared the valley floor, wondering if she could stop the glider without disaster. At the last moment it looked as if she shifted her weight. The wing lifted slightly, then gently fell to the ground. The maiden flight of the Eagle Glider, as dubbed by Sir Scott and his brothers and sisters, was a success.
Rowan turned to Sir Fairchild. “Amazing. But why build su
ch a thing?”
Fairchild smiled. “Why indeed?”
HIGHER CALLING
That evening, Rowan and Mariah attended the council meeting in one of the large caves at the upper end of the valley. Sir Fairchild was required to sit at the front table with the top thirteen leaders of the Eagle’s Nest Resolutes, so Rowan and Mariah stood with Julian. Sir Aldwyn found them and joined them. More than sixty additional leaders attended, including representatives from a dozen other Resolute encampments brought in just for this meeting. Most were Knights of the Prince, but some were not. All were drawn by a sense of loyalty to Cameria and what it represented—a loyalty powerful enough to bring tens of thousands to the mountains in defiance of tyranny.
Rowan felt a similar call to greatness rising in his chest—an exhilaration at being part of something so great and so noble. He would fight for Cameria and its people and win the right to serve the Prince freely once more in this great land.
As the last few men and women entered, he glanced about the room and his eyes landed on a familiar face. The massive knight he had met in Laos leaned against the wall, staring hard at him. It took Rowan a moment to recognize him. He leaned toward Mariah.
“Look,” he whispered and nodded toward the man, who looked almost as if he were guarding the cave’s entrance. “It’s the knight who saved us at Sir Aldwyn’s home.”
Mariah turned her head to look, then gazed up at Rowan. “It is Sir Lijah. But why is he looking at you like that?”
“I don’t know.” Rowan fixed his eyes on the leader at the front of the assembly, trying to ignore the steely gaze that seemed to burn into the back of his head.
A white-haired knight stood up to bring the meeting to order. “That is Sir Whitley,” Julian whispered.
“Ladies and gentlemen of the Resolutes,” Sir Whitley began, his voice echoing powerfully off the walls. “While we slept, our great Cameria fell into the hands of a tyrant, and our freedoms have all but vanished.” He allowed the cave to fall silent. “Our swords have been taken, our families imprisoned, our lands procured, our travel restricted, and our businesses taxed to support the very people who want to completely destroy us and our allies. Above all this, as you know, the order of the Knights of the Prince has been banned from Cameria.”
