They both relaxed a bit, but the girl still gripped her sword as she asked, “And who are you?”
“I am merely a lone traveler journeying through Aom-igh, I saw your campfire and came over hoping to join you. The road can get very lonely at times, and it has been a long time since I have conversed with other people,” Brant lied.
Just then the smaller of the two remaining sleeping figures groaned, stretched, and sat up. When he saw the face of the child, Brant jerked in recognition. The boy rubbed his eyes and looked up at the young guard.
“Is it morning already?” he asked sleepily.
“No, it’s not morning, we were just joined by this lone traveler whose name is… What is your name? You have not yet told us,” Oraeyn said.
“Brant!” Yole yelped as he recognized the stranger. “You’re alive!”
Brant stiffened, all senses alert and ready to flee or fight to the death, whichever course of action was demanded. But, as if he had not already been surprised enough for one night, the girl smiled warmly and relaxed with a relieved sigh; then she approached him with a friendly smile and an outstretched hand.
“Brant, we have been looking for you. I am so glad we found you. When we saw the village we feared the worst.”
Brant retreated from the outstretched hand in distrust. “Who are you and why were you looking for me?”
The girl looked a bit taken aback, then she smiled easily. “I’m sorry, I forgot that you weren’t really expecting us. I am Princess Kamarie, daughter of King Arnaud and Queen Zara. These are my traveling companions: Oraeyn, who, as you already guessed, is a squire. And this is Yole, but you already know him. And that,” she pointed over towards the last remaining sleeping figure, “is my maid Darby, but you will have to meet her in the morning, because she is not very sociable tonight.”
Brant stared at her warily, studying her features. She did not look much like Arnaud, but there was something about her smile that reminded him of his old friend, and that look in her eyes was the same one Arnaud had always gotten when he had to corral some stubborn farm animal. She definitely favored her mother.
Brant bowed. “Princess Kamarie, forgive the impertinence of my questions, but why were you seeking me?”
Now the princess’s face turned grave. “Because Aom-igh is in danger. There is an army gathering in Roalthae; we have been told that our ally Prince Elroy may have committed treason by joining forces with the Dark Country across the Stained Sea. That is not yet certain, but we have been preparing for the worst. My father sent my companions and myself to you in the hopes that we would find safety under your protection. When we traveled to your home and found the village destroyed we feared that you had been killed. I am very glad to find that you survived.”
“I wish I could say the same for my family and my neighbors.” Brant’s voice was quiet.
Kamarie looked at him and saw, for a moment, how deep his hurt was. Her heart went out to him as she considered his loss. Although she had just met him, she felt as though she had known him all her life, and she was overcome by a desperate longing to ease or share some of his grief. She tried to think of the right thing to say or do to help comfort him. She had seen people hurting before because of the loss of a loved one and had noticed how awkward and tentative their friends always seemed to be at comforting them. She hated the way that so many people could not seem to effectively reach out to those who were in pain. She hesitated for a brief instant, and then did the most un-princess-like thing she could think of, trying as she did so not to convey through her actions just how awkward she felt. She threw her arms around Brant and said softly, “I’m sorry.”
Brant was taken by complete surprise. He stood quite still and rigid for a moment, and then he tentatively hugged the girl back. When she stepped away, he shook his head and smiled. “Thank you,” he said, not sure whether he ought to laugh or cry.
The next morning dawned bright and clear, but there was a hint of storm clouds gathering on the distant eastern horizon. Brant had already retrieved his horse and provisions from the place where he had stopped the night before. Darby was a little confused, having missed the goings on of the night before, but after eyeing him shrewdly she announced, “Sure, he looks about the same as I remember him,” and accepted the fact that Brant was who he said he was with no complaints. She just muttered to herself about how she ought to have been woken up and that it was “indecent” of them to have let her sleep through “all that excitement.” But she did not seem to mind the fact that she had gotten more sleep than the rest of them.
“So what are we supposed to do now?” Oraeyn asked as they quickly finished breakfast.
“What do you mean? We found Brant and now we continue as planned,” Kamarie said around a mouthful of berries.
“As planned?” Oraeyn asked. “As planned what? The plan was to find Brant, tell him of the need for his help, and then he was supposed to find a safe place for us to stay until all of this is over. That’s the only plan there ever was.”
“But I thought… I thought we were supposed to bring Brant back to my father… what do you mean?” Kamarie asked.
“Unfortunately it’s not as simple as either of those plans anymore,” Brant said. “I believe the danger to Aom-igh is related to the attack on Peak’s Shadow. I must either continue to follow those who killed my family, or I must return immediately to your father and offer my assistance. Of course, his need is greater than my own. Although I intended to hunt my attacker, I did not know of the danger to the rest of the country. I will abandon my own quest for now and respond to King Arnaud’s request first. I cannot give you a safe place to stay anymore; Peak’s Shadow was the safe place, and it is no more.”
“I still don’t see why our enemies chose to attack such a random village in the middle of the country. Nor how they got their agents so far inland without anyone seeing their ships,” Oraeyn said, “but I agree with you that we cannot continue as planned.”
“We ought to do as my father commanded,” Kamarie said reluctantly. “I would much rather be a part of the fight, and I know that being my escort has taken you away from your first real battle as well, Oraeyn, but I should not go against my fathers’ orders.”
“Your father didn’t know that Brant’s village would be the first place to be attacked, he didn’t know that by the time we reached Peak’s Shadow, Brant would already be aware of the danger. We cannot put our safety above that of Aom-igh’s,” Oraeyn said.
“The situation has indeed changed, Arnaud must be told of what is coming,” Brant said. “I can give you directions to another possible safe haven, but I cannot take you there myself. Would that be acceptable?”
“No,” Kamarie said, a light crossing her face. “We are coming with you. Traveling under your protection is the best safe place you can give us, and it does not defy my father’s orders.”
“I doubt your father would agree with that,” Brant said wryly. “It will be dangerous in my company should my enemies discover that they were not completely successful in their mission to wipe out my village.”
“But that is the whole point. If your attackers discover that someone escaped their attack, they will be watching for a lone survivor. They will not expect a group of five travelers who seem, at first glance, to be harmless and defenseless. We will give you an edge: the element of surprise.” Kamarie’s words were convincing, but Brant still had his doubts.
“If you get hurt, Arnaud will never forgive me,” he said, starting to waver.
“We are not defenseless,” Kamarie shot back, her eyes flashing in a mixture of anger and pride. “Oraeyn and I are both squires in training and are both capable warriors. Yole and Darby are also more than they appear. Together, we are a force to be reckoned with.”
As she held her head high, Brant believed her. He knew that she was not lying about the training; if her quick motion from sleep to wakefulness the night before had not convinced him, the casual way she wor
e her sword would have. He could tell that she would be able to hold her own in a fight, if only because anyone facing her would be slow in realizing that she was more than she seemed. At length he relented, “All right. I just want you to know that it might be safer to stay behind.”
He threw that in as his last bid, hoping that perhaps it would cause them to change their minds; but he was granted no such luck. Kamarie smiled. “I know. I do not expect you to protect us, we can do very well without your protection.”
Brant smiled wryly, he had no doubts that they could do just that. He was sure that if they got into any sort of trouble, Kamarie would be able to talk them out of it, if nothing else. Then he sobered, but he did know what they were up against and Kamarie did not. Silently he vowed to his King and his friend that he would protect this princess; then he nodded. Without another word, Brant strode north towards Ayollan. His four new traveling companions scrambled to keep up with their new guide. As they started out, he said casually, “From now on, we will forgo the campfire. Speed is the best service we can now offer to Arnaud.”
Darby spoke up, “No campfire? And how do you expect us to set up camp, or eat well without creating some sort of evidence that will need to be hidden?”
Brant grinned to himself at the naiveté of his little group. “We will camp and even the wild animals won’t know that we’ve been there.”
It was good to be traveling again, to be on the move again. It was good to sleep on the hard ground under the stars, good to be on the trail of the enemy. His mind was sharp; his instincts alert. I have stayed in one place for too long. I had almost forgotten what it was like to wander. I had almost forgotten what it felt like to carry a sword… I had almost forgotten how much I liked it, he thought, and he smiled his first real smile since Imojean’s death.
❖ ❖ ❖
The words of the returning spy sent a ripple through the army of Aom-igh: the attack was coming, and the enemy was strong. The knights hefted their weapons and stood ready to fight. Their love of King and country rose up within their hearts almost to bursting, and each one of them knew that he would risk his life protecting either.
King Arnaud’s heart swelled with pride as he walked among his men. A dangerous enemy was approaching and his men would be fighting the unknown tactics of the Dark Country, a land that was only spoken of in whispers. All that was really known about the Dark Country was that it was the realm of the fiercest warriors ever trained, but fantastical tales had grown up around the truth so that many believed that the people of the Dark Country were monsters, only barely resembling humans. Nonetheless, the knights of the realm were steadfast and brave. And yet, the lull continued. No dark sails appeared on the horizon; no army marched in from any direction. All was still, and the looming threat of danger seemed as if it had been imagined. The knights started to relax; laughter and teasing were heard on the walls again. King Arnaud remained tense and grew more and more uneasy as the days passed and the flood did not come. Even his beloved wife was starting to question the reality of a threat.
“Arnaud,” she started quietly; he was in the library, studying everything that could be found about the Dark Country, but there was precious little, and the search was beginning to seem futile.
He looked up wearily. “Yes, dear?”
“Don’t you think… well, nothing has happened… so don’t you think that maybe we could send someone to bring Kamarie back?” Zara asked tentatively.
Arnaud stood up, worry and weariness lined his face. “Zara, we cannot do that yet. Remember the report from Roalthae. We must act with courage and wisdom until we know for certain that no threat exists. I cannot bring Kamarie back if there is still a chance there might be an invasion.”
“Isn’t the fact that no enemy has come evidence enough that there is no danger?” Zara asked. “Maybe Elroy is simply preparing to export weapons for a price. Maybe he is preparing some sort of presentation in hopes of winning Kamarie’s affection.”
“Zara,” Arnaud’s voice was firm.
Zara looked down. “I miss her,” she said softly.
Arnaud embraced his wife. “As do I.”
Then Zara looked up at him. “I know you are right, I just hoped perhaps...” She trailed off. “I had an idea. I think you should study the journals of King Llian.”
“Why?”
“Six hundred years ago, King Llian faced an invasion from the Dark Country and defeated them. He was also a renowned historian. His journals are the most accurate history we posess. He wrote about his battles and victories. Surely he wrote about the invasion he faced from the Dark Country.”
Arnaud’s eyes sparked with interest. “Darling, you are a genius. That is the weapon I have been seeking these many days.” He kissed Zara and hurried to locate these precious journals eager to see what help might be had from this new source.
The journals were dusty from disuse and falling apart. The bindings were cracked and the leather covers worn. The pages were yellowed and the edges crumbled at the touch. The words on the pages, however, were what Arnaud was interested in, and they were whole and oddly unchanged by the time that had touched the rest of the books. Later that night, Arnaud commented on this to Zara but she simply smiled.
“Scelwhyn most likely laid a spell of keeping on the journals.”
“Ah, yes. Well, you would know,” Arnaud smiled back.
The first few volumes of the ancient, crumbling pages were written in a quick youth’s hand and told of how Llian had come to the throne. The story was interesting; apparently the boy had been just a child when he was chosen by the people as the first ruler of Aom-igh. The journal was not very clear on why the boy had been chosen as king, the man was humble and did not laud his own talents and victories much. Perhaps that was why his journals were said to be so historically accurate, Arnaud thought; they did not seem to be overly biased in any direction. They were written with clear, simple, and objective descriptions of events. Although he was curious to read the earlier writings in more detail, it was the later journals that held Arnaud’s attention. Here, the pages spoke of the invasion of the Dark Country. As he read, fascinated by the skill and cunning of the Dark Warriors, Arnaud felt his heart sinking within him. How could they possibly hope to stand against such ferocity, such strategy, such well-trained fighting styles? Battle was what the Dark Warriors were born and bred for. Arnaud was proud of his people, and he had great faith in their devotion and in their fighting spirit, but he questioned if that would be enough. Was he sending his men against an enemy that could outnumber and overpower them?
He continued reading, searching for any piece of information that would help him prevail against this great threat. Aom-igh had turned away the Dark Country once before under the rule of King Llian, and Arnaud was determined that they could and would do so again.
Our enemies are finally upon us. We have known they were coming for some time now, but there has been no visible threat for so long that even I was starting to think that the danger had passed. The warriors from the Dark Country came in a wave of onslaught and then retreated. They have been making random, quick strikes at us that never last long enough for us to do any damage. They are here in great numbers and their warriors are capable and ruthless.
Arnaud skimmed a little further; he knew about the wait, knew about the fact that the warriors of the Dark Country were trained in combat from a very young age. Also, King Llian’s notes seemed to be telling him that people in the Dark Country aged differently, more slowly, than people in the rest of the world. Their life spans were much longer than most, and they spent much of their lives training to be warriors. He had a sudden, fleeting, nagging thought tug at the corner of his mind, distracting him from his reading for a moment. Something about that information seemed suddenly terribly important. Arnaud looked up from the book and tried to catch the thought. It was something he should know, something he should remember, he could feel it on the tip of his brain... but no, now it wa
s gone, fled as if it had never been. If it was important, he hoped he would remember before it was too late, but now he had to keep reading.
His eyes caught an interesting fragment of a sentence as he was skimming through the pages and stopped, reading more closely. I went to enlist the help of the dragons today. King Graldon is reluctant to join in the actual fight, but he understands his people are in danger too if the Dark Country prevails. He instructed me to return in a few days, and I replied I did not know if we had a few days left.
The next journal entry told of how the people of Aom-igh had continued to hold the Dark Warriors at bay and King Arnaud skimmed most of that until the writing came back to Llian’s mission to find the dragons. I returned to the dragons hoping to be granted some form, any form of help. When I arrived in the Mountains of Dusk… Arnaud stopped reading, perplexed, how could King Llian have traveled from the castle to the mountains in one day?
Leaving the page marked, Arnaud went and found his wife to ask her how this was possible. At his question, Zara smiled and answered, “Scelwhyn, was very powerful, one of the very last truly powerful wizards, as you well know. He was the last known wizard alive to master the art of trekking. The art has since been lost to us. His magic is what enabled King Llian to travel many miles in a few short minutes.”
“I see,” King Arnaud was impressed and suddenly wished that he had Scelwhyn’s aid once more. He could have used it.
“Are you finding anything of use?”
“Nothing so far, but I haven’t finished reading all of Llian’s journals yet,” Arnaud sighed. “So far everything seems to be saying that the Dark Warriors are a match that we will not be able to win against on our own. It’s too bad that the dragons have disappeared from Aom-igh; we could use their help now. I’m wishing for a couple of wizards too,” he added jokingly, but his eyes were serious.
King's Warrior (The Minstrel's Song Book 1) Page 10
