Curse of the Forbidden Book

by Amy Lynn Green

  Realizing the danger he was in, Jesse hurried away from the tent with the golden falcon, taking refuge behind a hastily erected stable a few yards away. If Roland had seen me, he would have killed me on the spot.

  Jesse commanded his heart to slow down and tried to think. Of course, he had heard rumors of Rebellion leaders who held influential positions in the kingdom, but he had never considered that one of the Rebellion members they had fled from in the caves would be one of Lady Taralyn’s suitors.

  Suddenly, the need to leave Davoir with the Forbidden Book had become much more urgent. Jesse had no doubt that Roland would recognize them, especially Jesse, with his distinct limp.

  And, no matter what excuse he had to make up, he would ensure that all of them died. Jesse had seen his hatred for them in Riddler’s Pass, and he imagined that it hadn’t decreased with the passing of a few days.

  For a moment, Jesse wasn’t sure what to do. Go back and warn Parvel and Silas to stay hidden, or continue on to get the medicine for Prince Corin?

  Then he pictured the raw wounds on Corin’s back and knew that he had to hurry. He began to hobble toward the drawbridge again, faster this time. They’ll stay with Prince Corin in the tent. Roland will never know they’re there. I’ll tell them as soon as I return.

  The guards at the drawbridge were so overwhelmed with the flow of people coming into the castle grounds that they wasted no time challenging someone who was going out. Besides, Jesse’s outlandish island clothing clearly labeled him as the servant of one of the suitors.

  He passed through the main gate, over the drawbridge, and onto the stone bridge that spanned the moat, trying not to be trampled by the people going to see the archery tournament.

  What would happen if Roland won the competition and married Lady Taralyn? Jesse wondered suddenly. He shuddered. I hope he is a very poor archer, for her sake.

  Once he was away from the crowds of the palace and could move easier, Jesse began to run. Get to the shop, buy the herbs, get back. Then we can take the Book, find Rae, and leave during the chaos of the tournament.

  That, at least, was the plan as Parvel would describe it. And, while Jesse hoped it would be that easy, he had his doubts—especially with a wounded prince, bloodthirsty chancellor, and a rogue suitor thirsting for revenge.

  Why do these things always happen to me?

  Chapter 14

  “Silas is where?” Jesse demanded, staring at Parvel.

  “He is at the tournament, serving as my proxy,” Prince Corin explained. Though he was still lying on his mat, some color had returned to his face, and he was moving a little more. “Each suitor is allowed to have a page or other replacement stand in for him in one event. It is an old court tradition.”

  “Rae told us about it,” Parvel said, taking the bundle of herbs from Jesse’s limp hand. “Apparently Lady Taralyn urged her to see that Prince Corin had the best proxy her court could offer. He chose to let Silas go in his place instead. You know how good he is with a longbow….”

  But Jesse wasn’t listening anymore. Silas is out there, maybe standing in the same arena as Roland!

  “I have to warn him!” he blurted. Even though he knew Parvel wouldn’t understand him, there was no time to explain. He ran out of the tent.

  “Jesse!” Parvel called after him. “Where are you going?”

  Jesse didn’t slow down. The camp was mostly deserted, and that made Jesse even more panicked. It meant the spectators had already entered the courtyard. The contest may have already started.

  He would have run the rest of the way to the palace courtyard, but then he heard a roar coming from the opposite side of the lawn. Of course! The range needed for the best archers in the kingdom would be much longer than the courtyard.

  By the time he reached the edge of the crowd on the grass, he was panting. The crowds were still inside the outer walls of the palace, and Jesse wondered what would happen if an archer shot too far and the arrow went over the walls and into the moat. Try as he might, he could not see over the crowd to look at the participants.

  The crier was saying something about the elimination process. The targets would be moved farther and farther back each round, until only six suitors were left.

  Jesse half listened to this, while he scanned the crowd for something to climb: a tree or a stone sticking out of the palace wall. There was none.

  In desperation, he tried to squirm his way through the crowd, but no one would move to let him through.

  Then he glanced over to the royal stand, sitting near the moat to his left. A familiar figure in a blue dress was standing beside it. Rae!

  Jesse limped around the crowd and headed for the royal stand. Chancellor Doran was not in his place beside the governor. That, at least, was a relief. I have to see what’s happening.

  In his hurry, he nearly ran into a Patrol member standing at the edge of the crowd. “No one past this point,” the guard snapped, and Jesse could tell that he had repeated this message many times already. “Governor’s orders.”

  Jesse was about to turn away when he saw Rae hurrying toward them. “He’s with me, sir,” she said, bowing submissively. “Lady Taralyn ordered us to watch the competition and report to her.”

  A grunt from the Patrol member told Jesse he didn’t approve of Lady Taralyn’s romantic foolishness, but he let Jesse pass.

  Jesse scanned the faces of the courtiers gathered to watch the archery. Chancellor Doran’s was not among them. Good. The less we see of him, the better.

  “What are you doing here?” Rae asked. “Shouldn’t you be with Prince Corin?”

  Jesse explained quickly, while staring down at the field. The suitors were lined up at the base of a small hill, making a kind of natural arena for the throng of spectators. A quick glance led Jesse to guess that nearly half of the suitors had been eliminated in the swordfighting competition. Only twenty remained.

  Silas was easy to spot. He was dressed in one of Prince Corin’s most elaborate robes. Cords, wrapped around his arms, held back the flowing sleeves to make aiming the bow easier, and a rimmed, round cap shielded his face from the sun.

  Jesse prayed that the strange costume would disguise Silas well enough. “Do you think Silas has seen Roland?” Rae asked.

  “I hope so,” Jesse said. “At least then he’d know he was in danger.”

  The flag with the golden falcon alerted Jesse to Roland’s position. Jesse breathed a sigh of relief. He was on the other end of the line from Silas. “If either Silas or Roland is eliminated right away, they may never encounter each other,” Jesse pointed out.

  Rae snorted. “It won’t be Silas, you can count on that.”

  Although he didn’t say it, Jesse was doubtful. Maybe Silas’ aim was impressive to Rae, who had lived among peasants forbidden to own weapons. But now Silas was competing against the best of the kingdom, noblemen who had been practicing for years.

  Five of the suitors stepped forward to the crier’s call, “To your marks.” Each stood in front of one of the targets. In unison, they pulled back their bows to aim.

  Jesse judged the distance as well as he could. Forty paces, most likely. He marveled at the distance, and the small size of the targets.

  Clearly, though, it was easy range for the suitors. Every one of them hit the target.

  Roland was in the next group. He hit the very center of his target. Just luck, perhaps, Jesse found himself hoping.

  When Silas stepped up to the targets, Jesse leaned forward, holding his breath.

  “Fire!” the crier shouted.

  Again, all five archers hit their marks. Silas’ arrow, however, was fired with such power that it nearly drove the target backward.

  “See,” Rae said smugly.

  Jesse groaned.

  “You’d think you didn’t want him to do well,” Rae said, frowning at him.

&n
bsp; “I don’t!” Jesse exclaimed. The Patrol member glanced over at them, and he lowered his voice. “He can’t attract any attention to himself. It would be better for all of us if he just loses quietly.”

  “Tell him that,” Rae pointed out.

  It was painful for Jesse to watch the contest progress, the servants moving the targets back several paces for each round. He wanted to do something, to run onto the field and tell Silas that his life was in danger. That, of course, would be the worst possible thing he could do, so he tried to dismiss his fears and watch the tournament.

  After the targets were moved past sixty paces, a few archers began to miss. One a round at first, then more. By the time the targets were one hundred paces away, a near impossible range to Jesse’s eyes, only ten men were left.

  Roland and Silas were two of them.

  “How is he doing?” a cheerful voice asked.

  Jesse turned around. It was Parvel, with Prince Corin leaning heavily on him for support. “We came as soon as we could.”

  Immediately, Jesse rushed over to help Prince Corin. Slowly, he and Parvel lowered him to the ground. Prince Corin never cried out, but Jesse could see from the pained expression on his face that every movement hurt.

  “What are you doing here?” Rae demanded.

  “When Jesse ran away, saying that he had to warn Silas, we were a bit worried, especially when he didn’t come back,” Parvel said. “I told Prince Corin not to come, but….”

  “I insisted,” Prince Corin finished. Jesse grinned to himself. That must have been some argument.

  Then he thought of something else. “How did you get past the guard?”

  “We didn’t have to,” Parvel said. “We just walked by during the last round. He was staring at the competition just as much as any of the spectators.”

  Prince Corin was watching too. They had moved the targets again, to one hundred fifty yards. “Well, my proxy may be a better competitor than I would have been myself. Excellent!”

  “Now might not be the time to celebrate,” Jesse said. He repeated his story about discovering Roland. Prince Corin looked a bit confused, but Parvel understood Jesse’s concern immediately.

  “And he’s still out there?” Parvel said, scanning the suitors down on the field. “With Silas?”

  Jesse nodded. “Can’t we get Silas out of there?”

  “Not unless you want to start another fire,” Parvel said. “We’ll just have to let the competition run its course, I suppose.”

  His calm words didn’t fool Jesse. He could tell from Parvel’s tense face as he looked down on the field that he was worried. That didn’t make Jesse feel any better.

  Roland’s shot went a little to the left, but still hit the target solidly, along with two other competitors. The opponents on his right and his left both walked away, their arrows missing by a small margin.

  Then Silas’ group stepped forward. Jesse saw Roland’s mouth move as he said something to the suitor next to him. Jesse squinted. It looked like Duke Hale, Prince Corin’s antagonist from the day before. Of course. Those two would be friends.

  “Hey, boy,” Roland called, loud enough for everyone to hear, “is the barbarian afraid to shoot for himself? Uses an Amarian to do his work, like a coward?”

  Silas didn’t turn or even flinch.

  Prince Corin shook his head in disgust. “Is he a warrior or a small child playing the bully?”

  “It will ruin his concentration,” Rae muttered, watching the archers with a fixed stare.

  Jesse shook his head. “A few taunts? Not Silas.”

  “Not the taunts,” Rae snapped. “The fact that he must have realized who the taunting suitor is.”

  Jesse remembered the feeling he had had when he first recognized Roland. “I think I see your point.”

  “Fire!”

  Five arrows hit home, but only one landed in the exact center of the target. Silas’.

  The crowd cheered. I should never have doubted Silas.

  Roland was calling out something else, but Jesse couldn’t hear over the crowd. Silas never turned to him or acknowledged his words. He kept his head down and his back to Roland. Jesse began to feel nervous again. Why didn’t he just miss? He could have walked away, and Roland would never have seen him.

  Now, as the crowd’s cheer died down, Jesse heard Roland shout as he ran over to Silas.

  “Parvel,” Jesse managed. “Parvel, what do we do?” But Parvel was staring too.

  Roland shoved Silas, then grabbed his head and jerked it up.

  And froze.

  The crowd had gone silent. They were all watching.

  Jesse could picture the look of dawning recognition on Roland’s face, although he couldn’t see it because Roland’s back was turned to him. The crowd had gone silent, watching the strange fight between the suitors.

  Then, shouting in rage, Roland drew a sword from the sheath at his side.

  “No!” Jesse shouted before he could stop himself, running away from the royal stand toward the field.

  Roland’s sword froze in midair, and he jerked his head over to where Jesse, Parvel, and Rae were standing. As their eyes met, Jesse could almost feel the hate in Roland’s stare. He will kill us, was all he could think. He’ll kill us all.

  Someone had already rushed in and jerked Silas away from Roland, but he continued to stare at Jesse.

  Then, jerking his sword down, he pointed, first at Silas, then at Jesse. His voice cut through the murmur of the crowd as his face contorted in rage. “Those four are part of the Rebellion against Selen, King of Amarias!”

  Chapter 15

  There was no time to run. Everyone was watching. Jesse wasn’t sure if the mutters coming from the crowd were fear, disbelief, confusion, or a mixture of the three.

  For his part, he tried to fix an expression of innocence on his face, which wasn’t difficult, because he was innocent. Back in Riddler’s Pass, he and the others had refused to join the Rebellion even though it could have cost them their lives.

  No one seemed sure of what to do. Apparently, this kind of accusation had never interrupted a tournament before.

  “Well?” Roland demanded, facing the royal stand. Jesse glanced up at Governor Elias, who had stood to look at the four accused. “Sir, you must order their arrest. They are a danger to the kingdom!”

  “That’s not true,” Silas began, his voice calm and even, as always. “We….”

  “Silence, slave!” Roland snapped, slapping Silas across the face. “You have no right to speak to a nobleman, much less question his word.”

  “But I do,” a strong voice declared.

  Somehow, Prince Corin had managed to get to his feet on his own. He walked slowly over to the royal stand, stopping right in front of the governor. The crowd’s buzz grew louder at this added drama.

  Jesse felt like cheering. Please, God, let the governor listen to him.

  “Not you again,” Governor Elias half groaned. Still, Jesse noticed that he did not call for the guards to drag Prince Corin away. He is an oddity, an amusement to the governor, Jesse thought. He wants to see what Prince Corin will do next.

  “That man is accusing my three servants,” Prince Corin said, “a charge I know to be false. If they are unlawfully imprisoned, I can guarantee that such action will end any ties between Dagen and Amarias.”

  Noticing the scene, Roland ran over to the royal stand, dragging Silas with him. “That’s a bluff,” he said, facing Prince Corin.

  “I am many things,” Prince Corin said, not backing down or even flinching. “A liar is not one of them.”

  Jesse turned to Governor Elias. Please, let him listen. The governor’s face had a look somewhere between admiration and disgust.

  “I do not understand you, boy,” Governor Elias said, shaking his head. “You’ll let yourself be whippe
d without question, but if we threaten your slaves, suddenly you’re ready to cut off trade with our entire country.”

  “They are citizens of this nation,” Prince Corin declared. “And as such, they should not be condemned on the mere accusation of one witness.”

  Maybe that’s true in Prince Corin’s land, but not in Amarias, Jesse thought. Still, Prince Corin’s strong statement had managed to attract the attention of more of the crowd. The noise quieted as more and more turned away from the halted competition to stare at the royal stand and the figure presenting his challenge in front of it.

  Roland released Silas, shoving him over towards Jesse and the others. Then he turned to Prince Corin. “Are you questioning my honesty?” Roland asked, effecting a tone of injured pride that made Jesse roll his eyes.

  “I would simply like to hear more,” Prince Corin replied. “How do you know they belong to the Rebellion? What proof do you have?”

  Those, Jesse knew, were exactly the questions Roland would not want to answer. He would have a difficult time inventing proof that would not draw suspicion to himself. And Jesse knew that though physically strong, Roland was not a quick thinker.

  Instead of answering Prince Corin’s questions, Roland changed the subject. “Governor Elias, don’t let this barbarian sway your judgment. He is not from Amarias. He cannot understand.”

  “I understand,” Prince Corin said, drawing himself to his full height, “that my servants are being accused of a crime without any reason.” He turned back to the governor. “Is it not possible that in the heat of combat, this man reacted against my servant out of anger?”

  Now Jesse heard a few chuckles in the crowd as they realized what Prince Corin was suggesting. He wants them to think that Roland was just jealous of Silas!

  Jesse suddenly saw Prince Corin’s strategy, why he called out to the governor instead of speaking to him in private. He was getting the crowd on their side.

  Governor Elias must have realized it too, because his gaze shifted to the throng of people watching the tournament, then back to Prince Corin. He chuckled. “You, boy, are either very foolish or very brave. What kind of prince are you?”