Prince of Alasia (Annals of Alasia Book 1)

by Annie Douglass Lima

  The cart’s jolting, uncomfortable though it was, gradually began to lull him. In spite of the motion, in spite of the hard seat and the cold air, in spite of the possible dangers on every side and the excitement of what was to come, Jaymin found his eyelids growing heavier. His head began to nod, and he wondered drowsily how late it actually was.

  He jerked awake with a start when Erik materialized from out of the darkness again. How long had he been asleep? A few minutes? An hour?

  “There are three men just ahead,” Erik was murmuring, shielding his eyes from the light to preserve his night vision, “with horses tied nearby. They didn’t see me, but by now they will have heard the cart.”

  Jaymin sat up, wide awake once more. Were these General Dirken’s trusted soldiers, waiting to lead them to camp? Or was there a chance that there could be Malornians this deep in the forest? Maybe he should hide in an empty sack again.

  “It’s probably nothing to worry about,” Sir Edmend assured him, noting Jaymin’s alarm. “Our side often has routine patrols guarding the different roads through the woods.” But Jaymin saw him surreptitiously loosening his sword in its sheath as Erik disappeared into the shadows beside the road.

  A moment later a dark form stepped out of the forest before them, a drawn sword in his hand. Jaymin’s heart was in his throat, and for a brief, foolish moment he wondered if he should leap from the cart and run into the trees. But no. Sir Edmend, in spite of his age, was a skilled swordsman; and Jaymin knew Erik was watching from somewhere close by, ready to leap out and attack in an instant should his help be needed.

  “Halt! Who’s there?” the figure demanded in a gruff voice. Jaymin breathed a silent sigh of relief, his heart settling into its normal position once more. The man did not speak with a Malornian accent, and though he was dressed in plain clothes, Jaymin recognized his sword as the leather grip hilt design used by the Alasian army. His partners were nowhere in sight; Jaymin suspected they were watching from behind trees nearby, with arrows on the string in case the strangers gave any trouble.

  Sir Edmend pulled up the horses and handed the reins to Jaymin, then clambered stiffly to the ground, careful to keep his hands in plain sight. “Good evening, friend,” he greeted the soldier, stepping closer to one of the lanterns so the man would be sure to see his face. “It’s I, Sir Edmend, messenger for General Dirken. I’m bringing supplies for the troops.”

  “Ah, yes.” The soldier seemed to recognize him. “Welcome back, sir. But, uh – I’m sorry, but we were told not to let anyone through tonight.”

  “The general is expecting me,” Sir Edmend explained matter-of-factly. “He told me he’d send someone out to meet me, but I’m afraid I got delayed.”

  “Well, I don’t know anything about that, sir. I came on duty an hour ago, and no one said anything to me about expecting anybody.”

  Sir Edmend scowled, exasperated. “Who was on duty out here before you, soldier? I’m guessing it was a ranking officer, wasn’t it?”

  “Well, yes, sir; it was Lieutenant Dorvic and a couple of the men under his command.” The soldier looked puzzled. “Why does it matter?”

  “Because I’m here on important business, and the general said he would have someone ready to escort me in. When I didn’t show up, he probably decided he needed all his officers back at camp to get ready for tonight.”

  “You know about tonight?” The soldier looked surprised.

  “Yes, I know about tonight, and I need to get there before everyone’s gone. You’ve got to lend me a couple of horses and show me the quickest way through the forest. I’ll leave my cart here with one of your partners.”

  The man looked uncomfortable. “I’m really sorry, sir, but I can’t do that. My orders were very clear. I have to guard the road and make sure no one gets by to interfere with the plan or send word to the enemy.”

  “But you know me, soldier!” Sir Edmend was losing patience. “What would you have eaten in the last month if not for me? The general trusts me. You know I’m not some Malornian spy. Why would I be bringing a load of food if I wasn’t on your side?”

  “Hmm. That’s true.” The man hesitated, looking hungrily at the sacks of corn.

  “General Dirken will be most unhappy with you if he finds out you turned me back,” Sir Edmend warned sternly. “Have you ever been on his bad side before?”

  The man shook his head, looking nervous now.

  “Trust me, you don’t want to be.”

  “Well, I suppose maybe I could let you go on as long as I inspect your cargo first. And I have to ask who it is you have with you.”

  Jaymin kept his gaze lowered, his cloak wrapped tightly around himself, hoping the man wouldn’t recognize him. He didn’t want rumors starting before he was ready to announce himself to all the soldiers at once, and it suddenly occurred to him that perhaps he should have kept Erik’s cloak with its deep hood a little longer.

  “My cargo is corn,” Sir Edmend replied, fumbling one of the sacks open and scooping out a handful of the dried kernels as evidence. “And this is a boy I met in Drall. He’s had some contact with the enemy, and he knows a few things that the general might find useful.”

  The soldier looked Jaymin up and down briefly and then nodded dismissively. He glanced into the darkness to his left, and one of his companions materialized from the shadows. He wore a sword at his belt and held a bow, as Jaymin had expected, but had returned the arrow to its quiver.

  “You’ll pardon us, sir,” the second man ventured almost apologetically, “if we search your cart. Just a security precaution – it’s nothing personal.”

  Sir Edmend nodded understandingly. “You can’t be too careful.” He turned to watch as the first soldier sheathed his sword and circled around to the back of the cart, where he began poking through the sacks one by one.

  Good thing I’m not hiding in there after all, Jaymin thought, smiling as he imagined how the man would probably have reacted to discovering a boy curled up in one of the bags.

  “All right,” the man conceded finally, dusting off his hands as he finished the job. “We can’t escort you to camp, but you’re free to continue on.” He glanced anxiously at his partner. “You don’t think we’ll get in trouble for this, do you?” The other man shrugged uncomfortably.

  “You won’t,” Sir Edmend assured them as he climbed back onto the seat. “If anything, your commanding officer will be glad you had the good sense to know it was best to disobey orders this time.”

  The soldiers exchanged another glance. They didn’t look at all reassured.

  Taking the reins from Jaymin, the old man slapped them across the horses’ backs, and with a creak, the cart began to move forward again into the night. “That wasn’t what I was hoping for, but it could have gone worse, I suppose,” Sir Edmend muttered with a sigh.

  The miles rolled slowly by once more as the horses dragged them deeper and deeper into the forest. With little to do besides duck the occasional low-hanging branch ready to dump its load of snow on them, Jaymin began to grow drowsy once more. Had it been only that morning that Miss Arrin had lectured him about putting more effort into his schoolwork? This had been a long and tiring day already, and it wasn’t even over yet. He still had to speak to the soldiers before they went into battle that night, assuming he arrived in time. Yawning, Jaymin began to try to plan what he would say.

  Without warning, Erik appeared again like a ghost from the darkness ahead. “Three more soldiers,” he warned, and vanished once more.

  Jaymin held his breath and Sir Edmend fingered his sword hilt warily. A moment later a lone man stepped out of the trees, gaunt and wary-eyed.

  “Stop and identify yourselves,” he warned sternly.

  “You know me. I’m Sir Edmend,” the old man told him as he stopped the horses again. “General Dirken is expecting me, and I don’t want to hear any arguments from you,” he added flatly, preempting possible objections this time. “Look in the sacks, search the cart, do what you have t
o do, and then get out of my way so I can find the general before the night gets any later. He must be losing patience by now.”

  His commanding tone worked. A second soldier stepped onto the road and glanced briefly through the sacks before nodding, satisfied. “On you go, then, I suppose, sir,” he ordered, pulling the last drawstring shut. “If you’re sure General Dirken’s expecting you.”

  “Perhaps you could lend us a couple of horses and take this boy and me to camp by a shortcut,” Sir Edmend suggested more courteously. “The general will want to meet with us as soon as possible.”

  “Perhaps so, sir, but we’re all under strict orders not to leave our posts tonight,” the first soldier told him. “You may ride on, though.”

  Sir Edmend sighed. “Very well.” He shook the reins and the horses moved forward as the men melted back into the shadows.

  Half an hour later, when Erik returned to report yet a third patrol, Sir Edmend nodded tiredly. “General Dirken has certainly stepped up security. It’s not surprising in light of what he’s planning. But we’re getting close to the encampment now, so this will probably be the last time we’re stopped.”

  A moment later another soldier appeared on the road in front of their cart. “Stop right there,” the man ordered sternly, sword in hand. “Who are you, and where are you going?”

  “Good evening,” Sir Edmend spoke up casually as he pulled the horses to a halt once more. “You remember me. Sir Edmend. I’m coming to deliver supplies to the camp and talk to the general, and I need to get there as quickly as possible.”

  “Oh.” The soldier stepped closer and peered cautiously at them in the lantern light. “Yes, I do recognize you now, sir, but I’m afraid I can’t let you through this time. Our orders were very clear that no one is to come or go through these woods tonight.”

  “Your orders don’t include me, soldier,” Sir Edmend told him matter-of-factly. “General Dirken is expecting me. Search the cart if you must, and then let me pass.”

  “I’m sorry, sir.” The man still stood stubbornly blocking the way. “I wasn’t told there were to be any exceptions. I’m sure you understand I have to follow the orders I was given.”

  “The general may have thought I wasn’t coming after all, because I got a little delayed,” Sir Edmend explained, and Jaymin could tell he was trying hard to be patient. “But whether you were informed or not, it’s very important that I see him tonight. He’ll be most upset if you don’t let me through. Now stand aside.”

  “I’m sorry, sir,” the soldier repeated, but he didn’t move. “If you come back tomorrow you’ll probably be allowed into camp. There’s an inn over in Keston where you and the boy could stay until then.”

  “Tomorrow will be too late,” Sir Edmend snapped in frustration. “We have to get there tonight! I told you, General Dirken is expecting me.”

  That isn’t going to work this time. Jaymin made up his mind. Taking a deep breath, he stepped down from the cart to the ground, his legs stiff after sitting for so long. He strode forward until he stood right beside one of the lanterns, letting its glow illumine his face. “What’s your name, soldier?” he demanded in his most imperious tone.

  The man stared at him in surprise, and for a moment Jaymin thought he wasn’t going to answer. “Corporal Ossien,” he replied finally. “What’s yours, boy?”

  Jaymin drew himself up and looked him full in the eye. “Jaymin the Fourth. That’s ‘Prince Jaymin’ to you.”

  Corporal Ossien stared at him. “What?”

  Jaymin didn’t bother to reply, just stared back and let his words sink in.

  The corporal turned to Sir Edmend, who was still waiting in the cart. “Is this some sort of joke?”

  “It’s no joke, Corporal,” the old man told him sternly. “You’re standing face to face with the Prince of Alasia, soon to be your king.”

  “That’s impossible.” Ossien took a step forward, his gaze flicking suspiciously back and forth between the two of them. “Prince Jaymin was killed in the Invasion along with the king and queen. I know someone who saw their bodies. Korram’s men buried the three of them with all the dead guards and servants in a big grave they dug behind the palace.”

  Jaymin froze. Prince Korram didn’t even give my parents a proper burial? He just had them dumped in a mass grave full of other people’s bodies?

  In his mind’s eye he suddenly saw his mother with her tender smile, her strong arms that had often lifted him onto her lap when he was little, her soft hands that had dried his tears and soothed away his hurts and given him the strength to be who he needed to be. And now her body was lying crumpled anonymously in the middle of a pile of rotting corpses. Couldn’t they at least have buried my mother properly? Isn’t that the least even a Malornian could do for royalty, even enemy royalty?

  It was the ultimate insult. I hate that Prince Korram, Jaymin thought, his rising grief hardening to anger inside him. I hope our soldiers kill him tonight, along with every one of his men.

  Jaymin realized that the soldier in the road was still staring at him. With difficulty, he pulled himself together. “I don’t know whose body your friend saw with my parents’,” he told the man, “but it obviously wasn’t mine. There were other boys my age in the palace. It wouldn’t have taken much for Korram’s men to kill someone else and dress his body in my clothes, and then tell everyone it was the prince.” Actually, that made a lot of sense. “It could have been one of the stable boys, or a gardener’s assistant, or the blacksmith’s apprentice. Whoever it was, it certainly wasn’t me. As you can see, I’m very much alive.”

  With a rustle of branches, a second soldier stepped out of the darkness and onto the road, also staring at Jaymin. “Are – are you really the prince? This isn’t some kind of trick?”

  “I am Prince Jaymin,” Jaymin told him regally.

  “Do you think he would admit it if it was a trick?” the first soldier demanded, though he didn’t sound as sure of himself anymore.

  The second man turned to his partner and lowered his voice to a whisper, but Jaymin could still faintly make out his words. “Did you see the look on his face when you mentioned the grave? I think it really must be Prince Jaymin.”

  “Until he proves it, we can’t let him through, Private Ennel,” the first soldier whispered back. “It could be a trap, tonight of all nights.”

  How can I prove my identity to them? Jaymin wondered, frustrated.

  Private Ennel stepped forward and addressed him again. “Your Highness – if it really is you – allow me to ask you a question.”

  “Very well.” Jaymin nodded.

  “I had the honor of meeting King Jaymin a couple of years ago,” the soldier began. “He visited the military training base outside of Almar back when I was a new recruit. As he and some of the officers rode past inspecting the troops, something startled his horse. I happened to be standing close by as he spoke softly to calm her, and I heard him say her name. I’m certain the prince would know the name of his father’s horse.”

  Jaymin gazed into the darkness, thinking. The trouble was, his father didn’t have just one horse. There were over two hundred horses in the palace stables, and he had probably ridden most of them at one time or another. But he did have some favorites. Jaymin frowned, trying to decide which one his father would have been most likely to ride at the time. Ennel had said she, which narrowed it down. But there were at least half a dozen mares whose names came to Jaymin’s mind as definite possibilities.

  Wait. The military training base. That was up in the hills above the city, where the roads were dirt and it rained frequently. Jaymin’s mother used to say that it was better to ride dark horses anywhere there might be mud, because mud splatters on a white horse were unsightly and took away from the noble image people liked to see when royalty passed by. So the three of them usually rode or had their carriages pulled by light horses on the cobbled streets of Almar, and dark ones in the countryside or in smaller towns where the roads weren’t al
ways kept in good condition.

  A dark colored horse, then. That narrowed it down still more. What black or dark bay mare would his father have chosen for a visit to the military base that day?

  Calara, probably. She was one of his favorites, fast and strong, her coat a glossy black except for a white streak running down her face. But as Jaymin opened his mouth to say her name, he remembered that Calara had only been purchased about two years ago, when she had been barely full grown. True, she was frisky and excitable, and he could picture her being easily startled and needing to be soothed. But would his father have ridden such a young, inexperienced horse up the steep, rocky track through the wilderness on a formal visit? Probably not, and that was even assuming they actually had her by then.

  That left two main choices, as far as Jaymin could think. Dawn and Zayla, both bays, both reliable and experienced. But Dawn was a little bigger, a little more regal-looking, perhaps a little better for ceremonious occasions.

  Jaymin opened his mouth again, but again stopped himself before he could say the name. That didn’t seem right. Dawn was steady and calm, not easily ruffled. Zayla, on the other hand, was high strung. She would be much more likely to take fright at some unexpected sound or movement.

  “It was Zayla,” Jaymin said aloud, certain he was right even before Private Ennel dropped to his knees in the road before him.

  “Your Highness! Forgive me; I wanted to be certain it was you. It seemed too good to be true.”

  “Your Highness,” echoed Corporal Ossien, on his knees now as well, looking nervous. “I’m sorry; I truly am. I had no idea you were really alive.”

  And then there was a third man kneeling beside the other two. “Prince Jaymin!” exclaimed the soldier who had just stepped out from among the trees, where he had obviously been listening to the conversation. “Alasia has a future now after all!” He fumbled for the hilt of his sword, and in a moment all three of them had drawn their weapons and placed them on the ground at the prince’s feet.