Prince of Alasia (Annals of Alasia Book 1)

by Annie Douglass Lima

  Erik grabbed his arm. “Stop panicking. Don’t run. Just turn away from them and come with me.” Moving slowly and casually, Erik stood, turned, and began to stroll back toward the market.

  They didn’t see my face, Jaymin tried to reassure himself, as he and Sir Edmend followed Erik across the open square. They aren’t coming after me. They’re just riding past. They didn’t see me closely. They couldn’t have. But his heart was hammering against his ribs, and he could hardly stand to walk so slowly. It took all his willpower to keep from breaking into a run or turning around to see which way the soldiers were going.

  Finally he and the others merged with the crowd in the marketplace, and Jaymin breathed a little more easily. Now that they were less visible, Erik increased his pace, leading them around the side of one of the little shops where they could no longer be seen from the square. Without a word, the three of them stood leaning against the wall, letting the slow-moving stream of shoppers flow around them. Jaymin knew Erik would make them stay there until he was certain the soldiers had gone.

  Glancing over at his friend, Jaymin was surprised to see anger on Erik’s face. “How could I have been so stupid?” Erik whispered, clenching his fists. “I knew better. I knew it was dangerous. I knew I should have made us go somewhere else. Why didn’t I say something?”

  “Well, we’re safe now,” Jaymin pointed out lamely. He had hardly ever seen Erik angry, and he wasn’t sure how to respond. “And you did mention it at the beginning; I just didn’t listen.”

  “It’s not your job to listen,” Erik snapped. “It’s my job to make you listen.”

  Before Jaymin could think how to respond to this ridiculous assertion he caught a glimpse of red out of the corner of his eye. The Malornians were still coming toward them!

  Sir Edmend turned to Jaymin in concern, and Erik grabbed his arm again to pull him away, but the crowd was too thick and was moving in the wrong direction. The three of them were stuck where they were, and all Erik could do was push Jaymin behind Sir Edmend’s broad back as the soldiers approached.

  Jaymin peered out over Sir Edmend’s shoulder to see the two Malornians riding haughtily down the street, looking as though they owned the market and everything in it. An angry muttering grew with their approach, as townsfolk shuffled grudgingly aside to let them pass. The soldiers’ arrogant expressions drew scowls and occasional taunts from bystanders as they rode slowly by, their eyes roving through the crowd. Alarmed, Jaymin ducked behind Sir Edmend again.

  As they passed an open stall just across the street where a woman and a young boy were selling fruit, one of the two soldiers casually reached down from his horse and picked up an apple. Without even looking at the woman or her son, he took a noisy bite from it and rode on.

  “Hey!” the woman exclaimed, hurrying out of her little shop. “You can’t just take that without paying for it!”

  The soldier glanced over his shoulder at her and laughed with his mouth full as he and his partner stopped their horses. “I’m a Malornian soldier. I can do whatever I want in this pathetic place!” Deliberately, he took another bite, enjoying her indignation.

  The other soldier grinned. “I’ll have one too,” he declared. He snapped his fingers at the woman and held out his hand. “Now.”

  She folded her arms, planting herself firmly between them and her fruit, and scowled up at them both. “Not until you pay for it.”

  The first soldier laughed again, loudly and scornfully, spewing bits of apple in her direction, but his partner laid his hand on the hilt of his sword. “You dare refuse the people who conquered your land?”

  The little boy suddenly appeared at his mother’s side, clutching one of their apples. For a moment Jaymin thought he was going to go and hand it to the man, but the boy drew back his arm. “You want a apple, then have one,” he yelled angrily, and before his mother could stop him, he flung it with all his might.

  The second soldier ducked, but a split second too late, and the flying fruit hit him squarely in the face. Enraged, he whirled his horse and charged toward the boy, whose mother grabbed him and yanked him aside just in time. They both screamed as the man’s horse lunged directly into their little stall, knocking over their table and sending apples and pears bouncing into the muddy street. Bystanders shrieked and backed away, stumbling and tripping over the rolling fruit, as the other soldier drew his sword and waved it warningly to make sure no one would try to step in. His partner was furiously employing his own sword, as well as his horse’s hooves, to demolish the inside of the shop.

  Jaymin cringed at the crashing and splintering of wood, his mind racing as he tried to think what to do. Erik gripped his arm. “We can’t do anything,” he whispered fiercely. “Just don’t watch.”

  But neither of them could help watching. Like everyone else, they were frozen in frustration, staring at the scene before them, scarcely able to accept that anyone would do such a thing.

  In a moment it was over. The grinning Malornian steered his horse out once more, sheathing his sword and looking well pleased with his handiwork. Behind him, the rickety wooden structure, little more than three walls and a roof to begin with, slowly crumpled in on itself with a final crash.

  “I’ll wager you’ll think twice before refusing one of Prince Korram’s men what he asks for again,” the soldier chuckled to the woman and her son, who were cowering in the doorway of the next stall over. Raising his voice, he addressed the angry but silent townsfolk who stood staring balefully at him. “Consider that a free lesson in how to treat your conquerors. I hope none of you will need to be taught it again.”

  His partner laughed. “Don’t wish for that. Where would our fun be? I hope they will need another lesson. I haven’t had my turn yet!”

  The crowd glared but maintained a frightened silence, making way a little more readily than before as the two soldiers turned and urged their horses on in their original direction, still joking and laughing coarsely. Jaymin, Erik and Sir Edmend watched until they had disappeared down the street and the clop-clop of the horses’ hooves could no longer be heard. Finally the crowd began to stir again, murmuring angrily.

  Jaymin joined a few others in helping to pick up the spilled fruit, though much of it was muddy and bruised, and placed it in a bag that some kind person had offered the woman. Her son stood stoutly with his arm around his mother as she clutched the bag with one hand. Tears trickled down her face as she stared at the ruins of her business.

  Jaymin had seldom felt so angry. “What kind of people treat others like that and think they’ll get away with it?” he demanded as he rejoined Erik and Sir Edmend at the side of the road. “What kind of commanding officers let their soldiers behave that way? And what kind of prince leads a kingdom whose citizens act like that in his name?”

  Sir Edmend merely shook his head; and Erik, who was busy looking around for more soldiers, had no answer. The kind with no honor at all, Jaymin thought, wishing he had a sword. The truly evil kind. Though he knew Erik would never have let him, he imagined himself teaching those soldiers a lesson in how to treat Alasians. Oh, how frustrating it was to be helpless when he so wanted to help his people.

  “Perhaps we had better go somewhere else to talk,” Sir Edmend murmured, glancing up and down the crowded street. “I have more to tell you, but perhaps not in the town square.”

  “Definitely not,” replied Erik firmly. “We should go indoors somewhere.”

  Ana’s house was out of the question, but after some deliberation they decided on an inn. Drall only had one; it was on the better side of town beyond the square, and Jaymin looked around appreciatively at the carriages and well-groomed horses that passed them on the way.

  The inn itself was a two-story brick structure that stood stoutly beside the road. Three carts and a wagon were parked in the courtyard out front, and stables for two dozen horses stood beside the main building. Though not one of Alasia’s largest towns, Drall was strategically located on a major trade route, and Jaymi
n knew it was a convenient stopping place for travelers. This inn, located right on the main road, must do good business.

  The heavy oak door creaked as Sir Edmend pushed it open, and Jaymin saw with dismay that there would be nowhere to talk in private here. Though it was not yet suppertime, a scattering of guests sat around the common room playing cards or discussing business deals by the hearth.

  Erik stepped warily in front of Jaymin, but nobody paid much attention as the three of them entered. Sir Edmend went over to talk to the innkeeper, who was bustling around serving mugs of ale to his guests. Jaymin heard the clink of coins changing hands, and then the man set down his tray and led them up a narrow flight of stairs. As he ushered them into a small bedroom, he looked dubiously at Jaymin and Erik in their tattered clothes and seemed about to object. But Sir Edmend, seeing his expression, pressed another coin into his hand and the man smiled apologetically and backed away.

  Erik closed the door behind them, and Jaymin finally relaxed. The room was furnished only with one bed and a little table and chair, but it was private. Jaymin sat down on the bed with a sigh of relief, Sir Edmend pulled out the chair for himself, and Erik, after jerking the curtains shut, crossed his arms and leaned against the wall beside the one window.

  “Well,” murmured Sir Edmend, “I suppose now we can continue. This is where I stayed last night, and I know the innkeeper has no love for Malornians, so we should be safe enough.”

  All the same, Jaymin saw, Erik wasn’t going to let his guard down. The anger had gone from his face, but it was replaced by firm determination. His eyes were fastened on the space between the curtain and the window frame, through which he could watch everyone who passed by on the street outside without being seen himself.

  “So,” Sir Edmend murmured, almost to himself, “where were we?”

  “I don’t remember, exactly,” Jaymin admitted, kicking his shoes off and pulling his feet up to sit cross-legged on the bed. It was the softest surface he had felt in a fortnight, and he resisted the childish urge to bounce up and down.

  “The Malornians are searching for Jaymin,” Erik stated flatly, without turning from the window.

  Jaymin and Sir Edmend both looked up in alarm, and Sir Edmend rose to peer out, before they realized Erik was referring to their last topic of conversation and not to a current event.

  “Oh, yes.” The old man sat down again, relieved. “That’s right. I believe they are searching for him, but carefully. They don’t want our people to realize their prince is still alive, or Alasia would be much more likely to resist the Malornians. As it is, I think a lot of people don’t see as much point in fighting back when as far as they know there’s no heir to our throne anyway. Even if the Malornians left, who would rule Alasia now? The enemy announced in the capital that they had killed the entire royal family, and Almar has been grieving ever since.”

  Jaymin didn’t want to hear about that; didn’t want to be reminded of his own grief. Not right now. Changing the subject, he inquired, “What else have you found out?”

  Sir Edmend hesitated, rubbing awkwardly at his new beard. “Well, I –” He paused, suddenly looking uncomfortable. “Actually, I do have some other information. I don’t know how to say this, exactly, and I didn’t want to have to be the one to tell you, but … I’m afraid I have some bad news for you.”

  Haven’t you been telling us bad news already? Jaymin thought. How could this be any worse than what’s already happened? Aloud, he said only, “Just say it, then. What is it?”

  “It concerns your mother’s relatives, Duke Torrathan and his family. I’m afraid … well … they’ve been killed too.”

  Jaymin caught his breath and stared at Sir Edmend. “What? How? When?”

  “I’m not sure of the exact details, but apparently soldiers broke into their home on the night of the Invasion as well. I’m so sorry, your Highness. I think the Malornians wanted to get rid of anyone who might possibly claim a connection to the throne.”

  Jaymin slumped over and hid his face in his hands, squeezing his eyes shut to hold back the tears. Not them, too.

  Jaymin and his mother had often spent a week or two at a time with his Uncle Torrathan and Aunt Allanie at their home in Tainabi, especially during the spring, when the flowering orchards that surrounded the city were at their loveliest. Jaymin remembered playing hide and seek among the trees with his three little cousins when they were younger, laughing and shouting while the adults strolled beneath the blossoms and discussed the prospects for that year’s fruit harvest. In the evenings they had often sat around the fireplace sipping spiced tea, while Aunt Allanie – who was the best storyteller Jaymin had ever known – spun thrilling tales that kept them all awake far into the night.

  And now they were gone, just like his parents. All dead.

  In the back of his mind, Jaymin realized, he had pictured going to see them again someday when the Malornians were gone, mourning with them for his parents, perhaps staying with them for a while. But Prince Korram and his men had shattered that dream, as they had so many others.

  I have no living relatives anymore, Jaymin thought bleakly, and suddenly he felt even lonelier and like more of an orphan than he had before.

  The silence lasted for a minute or two while the others looked away awkwardly, giving him space for his grief. Finally Erik spoke up, changing the subject, and Jaymin knew it was his way of trying to take his friend’s mind off of the pain.

  “Sir, what else is happening around Alasia? We know the Malornians have changed the way things work in the schools, but what else have they been doing?”

  Jaymin raised his head from his hands to hear the answer, grateful for the distraction. Sir Edmend looked grim.

  “Too many things already, and they’ve only just begun. Whatever makes money, they’re trying to get their hands on. You know the glass factory in Wistra, for example? The big one that supplies the whole kingdom? They’ve overrun it; forced the staff to keep working for a fraction of the pay. And they’ve brought in a few hundred of their own people, and made the managers start training them to do everything. As soon as they’re up to speed, I suspect the Malornians will take over the factory completely, and our workers will be out of jobs. And all the glassware they’ve produced in the last week has been loaded on wagons and sent straight back to Malorn.”

  Jaymin sighed, picturing the sprawling complex of the glass factory just outside the city of Wistra. Located at the tip of Alasia’s Northern Peninsula, it was surrounded by the sea on three sides. He had toured it with his father less than a year ago, at a ceremony honoring an especially talented glassmaker who had just been hired to create his works of art for the palace. Jaymin had learned how the fine white sand of Wistra’s famous beaches was turned to crystal-clear jewelry, scalloped dishes, and intricate sculptures in the shapes of birds and animals, all in the factory’s huge furnaces. Almost every windowpane in Alasia had originated there, and hundreds of Alasians made their living within its walls.

  And now the Malornians had taken the glass factory over for themselves. That meant hundreds of people out of work, hundreds of families going hungry in the short term, and in the long term … Jaymin shook his head. A glass shortage would have a big effect on the kingdom, and if the Malornians had overrun other businesses too – he didn’t even want to think about it. These enemies had to be defeated, had to be driven back to Malorn. That was the only way Alasia as he knew it would survive.

  He thought again about the soldiers in the Southern Woods, probably cold and hungry, but determined. They were the kingdom’s only real hope. This plan of General Dirken’s had better be good.

  From his post by the window, Erik stirred, and for a moment Jaymin was afraid he was going to say there were more soldiers outside. But there was no urgency in Erik’s expression as he turned to face them. “Sir, I have an idea.”

  “Yes?”

  “What if we have Jaymin go and speak to the soldiers? Right before they attack, I mean.”


  Jaymin brightened. “Yes! If people have really been grieving the way you said, perhaps seeing me alive after all would inspire them – would give them even more drive to succeed.” His eyes lit up. “Maybe I could even go into battle with them!”

  Sir Edmend looked uncomfortable. “Your Highness, I can’t tell you what to do,” he murmured. “But – I would strongly recommend against fighting in a battle yourself. If anything happens to you, we’ll have no king to rule Alasia once we are free again. You are the heir to the throne, and you must survive to sit on it.” He cleared his throat. “But as for speaking to the troops, I think that’s an excellent idea. I’ll mention it to General Dirken, if you like. I’m certain he will approve.”

  Jaymin nodded eagerly. “Yes, do that, if you would. Then when they’re almost ready to attack, you can come to Drall again and fetch us.”

  He leaned back against the wall in satisfaction. They had a plan, and for the first time since the Invasion, he felt he had real reason to hope. His heart was still heavy with grief – both old and new – and dark clouds still loomed outside and in, but his world finally seemed a slightly brighter place.

  Chapter 7

  Until recently, Jaymin had always thought he liked snow, though it seldom fell in Almar. It was fun to look out through the palace windows and see the city cloaked in pure white, clean and sparkling, like a fairytale kingdom. And he enjoyed bundling up in comfortably warm clothes and slipping out with Erik and a few guards for an early-morning ride through snowy fields and woods where only the occasional rabbit or deer had left its tracks in the soft white blanket covering the ground. And – best of all – there was the rare sledding outing in the hills outside the city, always with hot drinks and snacks, dry clothes, and a warm carriage waiting at the bottom.

  Snow in Drall, Jaymin decided with a shiver as he and Erik hurried down the hill after school one icy afternoon, was an entirely different matter. The two of them stumbled and slid along slippery streets toward Ana’s house, their hair and clothes already dusted with white. He had to keep blinking and shielding his eyes with one hand as the wind threw little flurries of snowflakes into his stinging face. Slushy snow underfoot found its way in through his patched shoes, numbing his toes. The contrast between his old life of luxury and his new one of poverty had never been clearer.