King's Warrior (The Minstrel's Song Book 1)

by Jenelle Leanne Schmidt

  “Now, young man…” Darby started, but stopped when he threw her a withering glare.

  “I am not going to hurt her. I am just going to teach her that she can’t treat people the way she does and get away with it,” he said.

  He slowly and deliberately carried Kamarie to the riverbank and dumped her into the four feet of chilly, slow-moving water. He watched until she came up, making sure that she was not hurt. Then he turned and walked back to his horse.

  Kamarie was outraged. She came up sputtering and coughing. How dare he? How dare he! The water was not overly cold, and the rain had already soaked her through, but it was the principle of the thing. Who did he think he was to be throwing the Princess of the Realm into a muddy river?

  Oraeyn had returned to the side of the river and was now stretching a hand out to her. She grabbed it and spitefully put all her weight into trying to tug him into the river as well, but Oraeyn had prepared himself for such an antic and he held firm until he had pulled her out of the river and set her on the firm floor of the forest again. Immediately she turned and slapped him across the face. Or at least, she tried to. He had been expecting the blow and he blocked it, but he was not prepared for her second blow. Her fist connected painfully with his jaw causing him to blink in surprise. Then he wordlessly handed her the thick, dry blanket he had gone to get out of his saddlebags. Kamarie snatched it out of his hands and wrapped it around herself haughtily.

  “My name is Oraeyn, Princess,” the squire said firmly. “Not ‘stable boy’ or ‘squire,’ it is Oraeyn. And from now on, we are going to follow the directions that your father gave to me. Is that understood?”

  Kamarie glowered at him beneath wet lashes and shivered in the cold rain. “I am the Princess Kamarie, Oraeyn, and you have no authority to order me about. However, I am quite willing to trust you with the directions from now on.” Mustering any and all dignity she had left, she turned on her heel and marched over to her horse, her head held high.

  She did not look as though she had been taught a lesson. Oraeyn noted ruefully, she almost managed to look as though it had been her idea to take a swim in the river all along. The look she gave him made him wonder just exactly who had really won that round. Oh well, at least she used my name, he thought to himself resignedly.

  ❖ ❖ ❖

  Yole was lost. He had been wandering through the Mountains of Dusk for nearly a week and had no idea which direction he was heading. He did not know if he was getting any nearer to the end of the mountains or if he was going back in the direction that he had come. It was not an uncomfortable feeling, being lost, Yole had been lost before. In fact, he had been lost for most of his short life. He had never been lost in the middle of the Mountains of Dusk though, and it was quickly becoming a frightening experience for the young boy. He sheltered in small caves that he stumbled across, and each night he heard the noises of hungry animals all around him.

  Yole had oftentimes fended for himself, but that was when he was in a village. In villages there were people, and many people were compassionate and kind-hearted. In villages he could find scraps if kind-hearted people were scarce. There was a little bit of warmth that a smart boy could find by curling up in a doorway or next to a wall. With people nearby it was easy to be brave and grown-up. Now Yole was faced with wilderness, hunger, and loneliness, and people were nowhere to be found. For the first time, Yole was truly alone.

  He was quickly running out of food and the weather looked to turn ugly. The sky had been dark all morning, and now thunderheads were rolling in. For the first time in his short life, Yole found that he was faced with fear. A panicked terror was clawing its way up his throat and he tried in vain to choke it down, he tried to talk to himself sternly, but it was of no use.

  He walked along, dragging his feet and scuffing the toes of his well-worn boots on the rocky ground. Then, with a flash of lightning and a crash of thunder, the downpour that the sky had been promising all day came in full measure. The rain was cold and relentless. Within moments, Yole was drenched and soaked to the skin. He looked around for shelter as the water dripped into his eyes and rolled down to the end of his nose. He soon spotted another cave; the one good thing about these mountains was the abundant supply of good, dry caves, if one knew where to look.

  Scrambling up over rocks and tripping over the uneven ground, Yole made it to the cave and sat down, breathing hard. A sharp pain in his arm made him look down in weary bemusement. His elbow was dripping blood from where he had dragged it across a sharp rock in his hurry to get inside the cave. He wrung out his tunic as best as he could and washed out the cut with the excess water, pressing his hand against the wound to stop the bleeding. A blast of cold wind came howling through the cave causing him to shudder and his teeth to chatter. Suddenly, the urge to cry came over him. He was cold and lonely and wet, his elbow was bleeding, and he was tired of spending his nights in caves. He wanted to get out of these mountains, and he was, after all, only a young boy. Tossing his useless and soggy cloak to one side, Yole curled up on the hard cave floor. He laid his head on his arms and cried himself to sleep.

  Yole awoke to the sounds of birds singing. His head hurt and he was starving. For a moment, he did not know where he was. Shaking his head, he stood up and slowly surveyed his surroundings. The cave he had stumbled upon in the night was much larger than he had first thought. He could not even see the back of it.

  The first thing on his mind was food. He sat down and opened his pack. There was still a little food left. If he was careful and if he could find his way out of the mountains soon, his supply would last long enough. He did not have to worry about starving yet. It was a beautiful morning, bright and golden, with no trace of the black and gloomy fears of the night before. His stomach no longer growling, Yole was now curious to see how far back the cave went. Getting up, he walked into the dark cavern. As he walked, the cave narrowed slightly and became more tunnel-like. He noted with amazement that the tunnel did not seem to be getting any darker. He could not see very well, but the darkness was not pitch-black either. He could see the walls of the tunnel, and he had no real difficulty seeing what was in front of him. He had never been afraid of the dark; in fact, he could not remember it ever being so dark that he couldn’t see. He had no fear of tunnels or caves either, although he could not recall ever being in one before coming to the Mountains of Dusk.

  The tunnel seemed to go on forever, and Yole started to think that it might be a good idea to give up and turn back. At first he had nurtured the vain belief that the tunnel would lead to the other side of the Mountains of Dusk, but now that seemed unlikely. This tunnel might not lead anywhere at all. What if he had walked all this way just to end up right back in the cave he had spent the night in? With these doubts tumbling about in his mind, Yole’s pace lessened considerably. As he slowed down and got ready to turn back, he saw something shining up ahead. Cautiously, he crept deeper into the tunnel. Then suddenly he realized that what he was seeing was daylight.

  With a shout of joy, Yole ran towards the light. It grew brighter and brighter until it almost seemed as if there could be no possible way to fit any more light into one area. He stopped when the tunnel turned into a cave once more. It was not the cave that he had come from nor was it like any cave he had ever seen before. It was a huge, open space filled with richly colored and transparent rock formations of so many different varieties they made his head spin. The Dragon’s Eye was shining through a small opening set at window height on the opposite wall reflecting off and refracting through the various surfaces with a visual design that almost mirrored the enchantment Yole experienced when he heard the shepherd’s pipes. However, the music of the pipes was never enough, while the light display in this chamber was so powerful that Yole had to close his eyes.

  As Yole’s eyes adjusted to the light, he saw something that made all the light in the room seem dim. It was a beautiful yet strange arrangement of stalagmites and stalactites. Yole could not have
said with any conviction that they had just grown that way; it looked as though the placement was too purposeful for them to have formed naturally, but surely it was not possible to grow such things. In the center of the cave was a ring of alternating stalagmites and stalactites, they were closely placed, but not so close that there were no spaces between. Yole approached the ring and peered through one of the spaces, curious to know what secret this rock formation held.

  ❖ ❖ ❖

  “There they are,” Kamarie whispered, “the Mountains of Dusk.”

  Indeed, the mountains were visible. They were by no means close, peeking up over the horizon in the faraway, hazy distance, at the very edge of vision. They had risen into view overnight. Despite their arguments and the wet weather over the past few days, the three travelers had been making pretty good time. Kamarie had been as good as her word about not questioning Oraeyn’s directions, though she had questioned just about everything else.

  “What are we waiting for?” Kamarie asked. “Let’s go!” She kicked her horse sharply and started to speed towards the mountains, but Oraeyn pulled his horse in front of hers, causing Tor to come to a very quick stop.

  “Hold on there Princess,” he said, “there…” he started, but of course, Kamarie would not let him finish.

  “What is your problem?” she asked in exasperation. “You want to get there faster, and you don’t want to continue at all, you want me to follow your directions, yet you have hardly been taking the role of leader, I don’t understand you at all! Why shouldn’t we keep going, there’s plenty of daylight left.”

  “If you would take a look at the sky,” Oraeyn said, in a quiet tone that made Kamarie’s shouts seem so much louder than they had actually been.

  Kamarie sighed in frustration, this trip has not been much of an adventure yet, she thought. Then she looked up towards the sky. It had been dark all day, but now off on the horizon was a large black cloud. She did not know what it meant, but it frightened her.

  “What does it mean, Oraeyn?” she asked in a small voice.

  “It means there is a storm coming, and we need to find shelter, fast,” Oraeyn replied steadily.

  A gust of cold wind blew around them, and Kamarie shuddered. Then Darby’s voice came floating over to them, “Master Oraeyn, I do believe I have found us a suitable shelter to pass the storm. If you would come and take a look?”

  Kamarie and Oraeyn rode over to Darby and looked at the shelter she had found. It was a clump of underbrush growing together so tightly that it made a nearly airtight ceiling of sorts. Underneath this thatched roof was enough room for the three of them to lie down comfortably.

  “It’s perfect,” Oraeyn said. “Now, let’s get a fire started and cook our meal before that gets here,” he added, pointing briefly at the large, ominous cloud.

  He scraped a shallow hole in the ground, grabbed some dead leaves and dry twigs, and struck his flint and steel.

  “Would one of you go and get some wood so we can keep this fire going long enough to cook our food?”

  “I’ll get the wood,” Kamarie volunteered. At Oraeyn’s surprised look she added defensively, “I’m not completely helpless.”

  “No offense, Princess,” Oraeyn said hastily, “but do you know how…”

  “Yes,” Kamarie said, cutting him off, “you want sticks about the same size that aren’t green inside. And you want them about this long,” she held her hands about a foot and a half apart, “and by the way, you can stop calling me ‘Princess’, I have a name too, you know.”

  “Where did you learn about firewood, Prin…Kamarie?” Oraeyn asked in open astonishment.

  “I can read,” Kamarie replied, “all the adventure books tell you how to make a fire and keep it going.”

  Oraeyn shook his head; this princess would probably never cease to bewilder him. One moment she seemed to know absolutely nothing about the wilderness or survival. The very basics of survival and direction were mysteries to her, she could not distinguish between upstream and downstream, she could not tell when a storm was coming; and yet, she knew how to start a fire and what kind of wood to use, and the food she had cooked along the journey had been edible, no, it had been better than edible. And he had to admit; she wore the sword at her side as if she had been born to it. He rubbed his jaw where she had hit him when he had thrown her in the river; it had bruised. Where had the princess learned how to punch like that? he wondered.

  “You could say something like, ‘thank you, Kamarie, that would be helpful,’ rather than just sitting there staring at me in disbelief,” Kamarie said.

  Her words shook Oraeyn out of his thoughts. “That would be helpful, Kamarie, thank you,” he said. She nodded and as she turned, he asked, “And would you mind telling me where you learned to carry a sword and punch like a knight, and where you learned how to ride?”

  She looked at him in surprise for a moment. Then she laughed and said, “Yes, I would mind,” and she darted off deeper into the forest before he could say anything else.

  As Oraeyn started the fire and kept it going, Darby spread out their bed-rolls inside their makeshift cave of underbrush. She untacked the horses, fed them, and blanketed them so they would not feel the cold, especially if it rained later that evening. Oraeyn liked Darby. She reminded him of his mother, someone who worked hard and never complained. She was a woman of few words. The only thing he could not fathom at first was her loyalty to Kamarie, but now he was starting to understand it a little bit better. He had set off on this trip believing that Kamarie was a spoiled, bratty princess. Now he was starting to see that she had a great sense of fun, she was not completely helpless in the wilderness, and though she was exasperating, she had an irrepressible personality that drew him. He was finding that he actually enjoyed their fights, if only because it kept the journey from becoming tedious. He also liked the game of wills that had sprung up between them, though he would never have admitted to it.

  Suddenly Darby was at his shoulder. He glanced up at her and noticed the worry on her face. “What is it, Darby?”

  “The storm is near, and Princess Kamarie has not returned,” she said anxiously. “Her Highness has been gone for a long time.”

  Oraeyn frowned. How long had he been lost in thought? Had Kamarie really been gone so long? One glance at his fire told him that she ought to have been back by now.

  He gave Darby a reassuring look, “I will find her, maybe she got lost, I’m sure she isn’t in any real danger, and I bet if she is she could probably talk her way out of it.” His humor did not bring a smile to Darby’s face, so he continued, “Can you watch the fire and make sure it doesn’t go out?”

  Grabbing his sword belt, Oraeyn set out after Kamarie. He was an excellent hunter; his mentoring knight had often praised him on his skill at tracking. He was impressed by the lack of trail that Kamarie had left, but he was also puzzled by it. He would have to find out where she had learned these survival skills. He could read her trail, but it would have been a struggle for many less skilled in the art of tracking.

  Suddenly, her trail disappeared. Oraeyn was mystified. He thought at first he had somehow missed something, but disregarded that thought. In the twilight, he took note of his surroundings, and then, with his sword, poked at the ground before him. The ground ahead would not support his weight, and there was a depression that he could see in the developing darkness. He looked around and found what he sought. Sheathing his sword, he grabbed a sturdy stick and cautiously lay down on his stomach and inched towards the edge of the depression. He held his stick with both hands under his chin, perpendicular to his body. As he inched forward, the ground under him suddenly gave way. With a yell, he fell, but not far. The hole was too narrow for his makeshift staff, and it was now the only thing that kept him from falling.

  Holding onto the stick for dear life, Oraeyn called out, “Kamarie? Are you there?”

  “Oraeyn?” the reply was a mixture of incredulity and relief.


  “Kamarie! Are you all right?” he asked.

  “Yes, I’m a little shaken up, and I think there are some scrapes on my knees. But other than that I’m okay,” she said. “How did you find me?”

  “I tracked you,” Oraeyn said as he pulled himself up on his staff, as he did so, thanking Cruithaor Elchiyl that the stick didn’t break beneath his weight. With a little effort, he was able to pull himself out of the narrow hole. Then he peered down. “Can you see me, Kamarie?”

  “Yes, I can.”

  “How far down would you say you are?” he asked, holding his breath, hoping it was not too far.

  “Ten or twelve feet. I’m not really sure. If I could stand on my own shoulders, I would almost be able to climb out,” she said.

  Oraeyn let his breath out in a sigh of relief, and said, “I’m going to lower a stick down to you, tell me if you can reach it. If you can, then grab a hold of it and let me pull you out.”

  “Do you think that will work?” Kamarie asked. “What if I can’t hold on?”

  “Then we will try again. I will get you out of there.” When he got no reply, he lowered the staff down.

  “I’ve got it,” Kamarie called, as he felt her grab the end of it. “All right,” she yelled, “pull me up.”

  It was more difficult to pull her up than he had first thought that it would be. The stick did not work as well as a rope would have, or even a proper staff, and the process was a slow one. But after what seemed like eons of pulling, Kamarie’s head appeared and she grabbed the edge of the hole. Oraeyn grabbed her wrists and pulled her out of the hole. He set Kamarie on her feet, but as he released her she started to collapse.

  “Whoa,” Oraeyn said, reaching out to support her again, “are you okay?”

  She nodded shakily as he helped her to sit down. It was a few moments before she could do anything but stare at the spot where the forest floor gave way, her would-be prison, and shiver. Eventually, she looked up from her trance and stared at him as if she was not quite sure she believed he was actually there, “I was so afra…” she stopped, lifted her chin slightly, and started again, “I didn’t think you would come.”