Prince of Alasia (Annals of Alasia Book 1)

by Annie Douglass Lima

  “Yes, General.” The man stood and backed toward the entrance, with an awkward bow in Jaymin’s direction. “If there’s anything more I can do, sir, or – or your Highness, please let me know.”

  “Thank you,” Jaymin replied graciously as Dannel shuffled out of the tent.

  “So,” began the general, resuming his seat across from Jaymin. “Apparently this is where they are. Or at least where they were when last seen.” He placed a finger on the map on the table in a spot near both the Southern Woods and the Malornian border, and Jaymin and Sir Edmend leaned in to look. “And here we are in the woods, twenty-five miles from there.” He pointed again. “Now,” he continued. “I think we can safely assume that this approaching army will do nothing before daybreak. They can’t get hundreds of horsemen through twenty-five miles of unfamiliar forest in the middle of the night, even if they do know our general location.”

  Sir Edmend frowned. “What worries me is the fact that they’re headed here, instead of toward the capital.”

  Jaymin nodded in agreement. “If those spies of theirs have told them exactly where we are, then we’re running out of time.”

  “True. Well, we were ready for action anyway. This way, everyone can get a few hours’ sleep, and we’ll just save the battle for the morning.” The general’s face was grim. “We know these woods better than the enemy does, and I intend to take advantage of that. They are probably better equipped, but if there are only five hundred, we do outnumber them. We won’t let this be an easy battle for them.”

  Jaymin sighed as he began to realize how serious their situation was. Even if they won tomorrow, their army’s location was apparently no longer a secret. They couldn’t stay here if the Malornians knew about the forest camps, but where else in this part of the kingdom could eight hundred fifty Alasian soldiers hide?

  “Something about this strikes me as strange,” Sir Edmend was saying, his brow furrowed in thought. “If they know where we are, why send only five hundred when they could send their entire army to wipe us out? And if they knew we were about to attack Almar, why not send their extra soldiers to reinforce the troops there? Why head for our camps in the forest if they think we’re planning to be gone tonight?”

  There was silence for a moment as they all considered this.

  “Perhaps these horsemen are just to cut off our retreat,” the general suggested with a frown of his own. “Their plan may be to come through in the morning when they think we will all be gone, to steal or destroy our supplies, and to lie in wait for whatever wounded survivors escape from the ambush in Almar. They may believe they don’t need to send more if we’re about to come to them.”

  The others nodded. That made sense, and yet it was hard to be sure what Prince Korram’s men were thinking. Something about this situation still seemed a little odd.

  “If they know we’re close by, why would they travel during the day when our sentries could see them?” Jaymin wondered aloud, and no one had an answer to that.

  “I’ll assign extra patrols throughout the forest tonight, especially in the eastern region,” General Dirken decided, “to keep us updated if the enemy does anything else unexpected. In the meantime, the rest of us will sleep with weapons at the ready. We will move east to meet them before dawn, and wait just inside the forest, with our troops positioned to cut off their retreat after they enter it. We’ll surround them if we can before we attack. In the meantime, I’ll make an announcement to our troops and send messengers to inform the other camps as well. We’ll let them get a little sleep and then be ready to march a few hours before sunrise. We’ll have to pack up the camps before we leave, too, now that the enemy knows where we are.” He turned to Jaymin. “With your approval, your Highness.”

  Jaymin nodded tiredly. It had been a long day, and this was not how he had expected it to end. “Yes, General, I think that’s about all we can do at this point.” He hoped his voice didn’t betray the discouragement he felt.

  “Very well, then,” Dirken replied. “I’ll have my page show you to an extra tent for what’s left of the night.” He caught Erik’s eye. “Go and call him; he’s probably over by the fire.”

  Jaymin opened his mouth to explain that Erik was actually his bodyguard, not a servant, but Erik glanced his way and gave a tiny shake of his head as he slipped out. People frequently mistook him for a servant, but that suited him just fine – he had often pointed out to Jaymin that he could do his job better when no one realized it was his job.

  The general pushed back his chair and rose to his feet. The other two followed his lead, and he ushered Jaymin toward the entrance. “We have a good four hours left before we need to be up, your Highness, and I think we could all use the rest.”

  Chapter 15

  Jaymin could hear voices outside his bedroom. The Malornians! They had invaded the palace! They had killed his parents, and they were coming to kill him, and he had to escape. At any moment now Sir Edmend would come rushing in to lead them to safety through the secret passageway. Now Erik was shaking him awake to warn him of the danger, just as Jaymin had somehow known he would.

  “Jaymin! Jaymin, wake up!”

  Jaymin sat up with a start, almost falling off the narrow cot. What had happened to his bed? Then the tent walls stirred in the night breeze, and all at once he remembered where he was. Moonlight streamed in through the crack by the opening, and above the flapping of the canvas he could faintly hear Sir Edmend snoring from the next tent over. The only other sound was the rustle of trees in the wind outside. He rubbed his eyes and peered up at the dim figure of Erik standing over him.

  “What is it?” Jaymin mumbled, fighting the urge to lie down again and pull the covers over his head. “It can’t possibly be time to get up already.”

  “It is for us. Quick, get dressed and I’ll tell you.”

  With a sigh, Jaymin rolled out of bed, shivering as he left the warmth of the blankets, and groped in the darkness for his clothes. Erik seemed already to be mostly dressed.

  “Rennie just came by,” his friend explained quietly, shoving a foot into his boot. “Apparently the general has received an urgent message from Camp Four and wants to talk to you right away.”

  “Again?” Jaymin pulled his tunic over his head and fumbled for his breeches and belt, yawning. “I wonder what’s happening.”

  “Probably nothing good, for him to call you at this time of night.”

  “I know,” Jaymin murmured, drowsily noting that Erik must be sleepier than he sounded if he couldn’t come up with something hopeful to say about even this situation.

  Having finished dressing, Jaymin ran his fingers through his hair. “Do I look presentable?”

  “How should I know? It’s dark! But I’m sure you look princely enough to talk to the general. Ready?”

  “I suppose.” With a last wistful look back at the warm cot he had so reluctantly vacated, Jaymin threw his cloak over his shoulders and followed Erik out of the tent.

  The night air was even colder than he had expected. “It’s freezing!” he gasped, stopping to hastily fasten his cloak and wrap it more tightly around himself.

  Erik nodded seriously. “This is quite possibly the one place in Alasia that’s colder than Ana’s attic at night.”

  Through a gap in the clouds they could see a nearly full moon hanging low above the treetops. Around them, the camp lay still and silent, tents crouching in neat rows like large, dark animals. The forest pressed in from all sides, full of shadows and secrets. At the far end of the clearing, a little fire flickered red-orange, the forms of two men on duty silhouetted against it. Jaymin wondered how many more were patrolling hidden and watchful in the darkness.

  Light glowed from General Dirken’s tent, too. Beside it, a bay horse stood shivering and stamping, its breath puffing out in clouds. The sleepy-looking page was pacing and yawning nearby, his hands clasped in his armpits for warmth, hood pulled low over his head. When he saw them coming, he hurried to the general’s tent and spo
ke softly into the opening. As they approached, he pulled back the flap and gestured for them to enter.

  Inside, General Dirken was deep in conversation with a uniformed soldier who had apparently just arrived. Both men rose respectfully to their feet as Jaymin stepped in.

  “Your Highness, I am truly sorry to summon you at such an hour, but I believe you will agree that this matter warrants your immediate attention.” The general gestured toward the man beside him. “This soldier has just come from Camp Four, and he brings news that I know you will want to hear.”

  “Your Highness.” The soldier bowed low. “It’s a great honor.” Judging by his lack of surprise, he must already have been told he was about to meet the Prince of Alasia.

  “Thank you.” Trying not to yawn, Jaymin took a seat at the little table, too sleepy to draw out the formalities, and gestured to the men to be seated as well. Erik once again took up his position by the entrance. “So, what’s this news that you bring?”

  “Your Highness, I was on guard duty near our camp tonight, and my partner and I were approached by two young men in the forest. They were unarmed and carried a white flag for parley, and said they wanted to speak with whoever was in charge.”

  “Malornians?”

  “Yes, your Highness, but not just any Malornians. He may have been lying, of course, but one of them said ….” The soldier hesitated.

  “Said what?” Jaymin prompted, trying to keep the impatience out of his voice.

  “Your Highness, he said he was Prince Korram of Malorn.”

  Jaymin caught his breath, his sleepiness vanishing instantly. Prince Korram? Could it be true? And if so, what would it mean? He could not imagine any reason why Prince Korram would even be nearby, much less approach their camp in the middle of the night with only one companion to ask for a secret meeting.

  “What did he look like?” Jaymin queried finally, trying to recall all he could about Korram.

  “He’s short and wiry, your Highness, with black hair and thick eyebrows. He looks maybe fifteen, sixteen years old.”

  “Is he dressed like a prince?”

  “No, your Highness. His breeches and jacket look as though they’re made of deerskin.”

  Jaymin’s brow furrowed in thought. He had met Prince Korram only once, when he and his parents had visited Malorn about four years ago. Korram’s father, King Kerman, had just died, and they had made the trip to attend the state funeral. Jaymin, who had only been eight years old at the time, barely remembered Korram as a pale-faced boy with dark, unruly hair, looking completely devastated by his father’s sudden death. His younger sister had been present too, silent and somber, along with their newly-widowed mother. She had accepted their condolences with quiet dignity, the pain still fresh in her eyes. Korram, who had been only a little older than Jaymin was now, had hardly spoken during and after the ceremony. He had remained only a prince since then, Jaymin knew, for Malornian law stated that in the event of a king’s death, a regent would be chosen to help the prince rule until he came of age. Some man by the name of Rampus had gained the regency.

  Jaymin wondered again what Korram wanted, assuming it really was him, and how this would affect their plans for the morning. Was there still going to be a battle?

  General Dirken was watching him. “Your Highness?”

  Jaymin looked up. “Let’s go and talk to him, General. I’m curious to hear what he has to say.” And I’d like to meet the person who has caused the deaths of everyone I care about, created so much damage in my kingdom, and buried my parents in a mass grave, Jaymin added silently. He’s unarmed, and he’ll be outnumbered. We could – but no. Their enemy had come under the white flag of parley, and they would honor that. They had to. Honor was one of the few things Alasia had left.

  Jaymin turned to the soldier. “Where is he now?”

  “He and the fellow with him are waiting just outside Camp Four, your Highness, guarded by my partner and Captain Tarl. The captain sent me here to bring the news to the general.”

  Jaymin turned to Dirken. “Well, General, shall we head over to Camp Four?”

  “If you wish, your Highness.” The general looked less than enthusiastic. “However, we must be prepared for a possible trap.” He turned to the soldier. “You are quite sure the two of them are alone? There could be no other Malornians hiding in the forest nearby?”

  “We made certain of that, sir.”

  Dirken nodded, but still didn’t seem entirely satisfied. “Good. Just in case, however, I want you and a few others to come along unseen. You’ll leave your horses in Camp Four and steal through the forest ahead of us. Stay out of sight with your bows and arrows at the ready, and at the slightest sign of trouble during this meeting, don’t hesitate to shoot.”

  “Understood, sir.”

  “I think we are ready, then.” He glanced over at Erik. “You go help Rennie saddle up some horses. I will summon more soldiers and instruct Captain Norrin to oversee Camp One while we are gone.”

  Camp Four looked very much like Camp One, with its supply huts and orderly rows of tents squatting silently in the moonlight. The soldier led them around the perimeter of the camp, and then pointed out a trail leading into the woods. After tethering his mare to a tree, he slipped softly into the darkness beside the trail and disappeared, followed by three armed officers whom the general had brought. When they had gone, General Dirken drew his sword, and glancing around suspiciously, nudged his horse slowly and cautiously down the trail. Jaymin followed; and Erik, also casting his eyes all about, brought up the rear.

  They only had to ride about two hundred yards into the forest. There, a small fire crackled on the bare ground in a little clearing just off the trail, with three camp chairs set up around it. On one of them, a young man wearing what did indeed look like deerskin sat warming his hands. His companion, dressed the same way, stood behind him. Two dark horses were tied to trees off to the side, and two green-uniformed Alasians paced nearby, eying the young men suspiciously. All four looked up as the little party rode into the clearing.

  “Sir!” One of the soldiers, wearing the bronze pin that marked him as a captain, stepped forward as they dismounted, snapping to attention and saluting smartly. Dirken tossed his reins to Erik, who had already jumped down and stood waiting to take them, and returned the salute.

  “Dismissed, Captain,” he barked briskly, before the man could say anything else. “Take your soldier back to camp. I’ll handle it from here.”

  The captain was obviously surprised, but he knew better than to question orders, and merely nodded. “Yes, sir.” He motioned to the other soldier, and the two of them turned and marched down the shadowy pathway toward Camp Four.

  Jaymin handed his reins to Erik as well and strode over to the fire. The youth seated there was several years older than he, with a shock of shaggy black hair, bright black eyes, and sharp features. His companion, obviously a bodyguard, stood with the same relaxed readiness that was typical of Erik in uncertain situations, dark eyes silently taking in everything around him.

  It had been a long time, but Jaymin recognized in the young man before him the boy he had met four years ago. There could be no doubt as to who this was. Their eyes met, and Jaymin saw a flicker of recognition, followed closely by surprise, in the other’s face. Korram rose to his feet, and Jaymin saw that in spite of being several years older, the other prince was only an inch or so taller than he, with a lean, wiry build. He doesn’t look like a mass murderer.

  Korram took a step forward and made a slight, formal bow. “Prince Jaymin.”

  “Prince Korram.” Jaymin returned the bow.

  “I must say I wasn’t expecting to see you. Rumor has it you survived the Invasion, but I wouldn’t have thought to find you here. I’m pleasantly surprised.”

  “The surprise is mutual,” Jaymin replied coolly, “though whether the pleasure is, remains to be seen. I’m sure you understand why my thoughts toward you and your people have not exactly been pleasant ones
lately.”

  “Of course. But after you hear what I’ve come to say, perhaps those thoughts will change.”

  “I make no promises,” replied Jaymin grimly, “but I’m willing to listen. Shall we be seated?”

  They sat down in the camp chairs on opposite sides of the fire. Wordlessly, General Dirken took the seat to Jaymin’s left, resting his naked sword across his knees. A not-so-subtle reminder that he didn’t trust Prince Korram and would be ready for any trickery. Erik, having tied their horses loosely to a branch beside the other two, glided over to stand behind Jaymin. The two princes regarded each other over the flames, both silent for a moment, trying to gauge each other. The only sound was the crackling of the fire.

  Korram broke the silence first. “It would be the height of stupidity, as I’m sure you realize, for me to ride unarmed and with only one attendant into what’s potentially enemy territory, if I didn’t have a truly important reason.”

  Jaymin raised his eyebrows. “Potentially enemy territory? If invading my kingdom like this doesn’t make us enemies, what do you think would?”

  Korram nodded understandingly. “I know, I know. I’d feel the same way, I’m sure, if you had invaded Malorn. But that’s why I’m here: to try and make you see that this wasn’t my fault. We don’t have to be enemies.”

  Jaymin folded his arms and leaned back in his chair, scowling suspiciously. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean that, whether you believe it or not, I have as much to lose in this situation as you do. I want your help, and you need mine. Let’s end this stupid invasion so we can each go home and rule our own kingdoms in peace.”

  Jaymin stared at him. This wasn’t making sense. “If peace is what you want, perhaps you should have thought of it before you invaded Alasia.”

  “I didn’t invade Alasia! Regent Rampus did!” Korram looked as though he wanted to leap from his seat, but he drew a deep breath and managed to contain himself.