Prince of Malorn (Annals of Alasia Book 3)

by Annie Douglass Lima

  At last Silanth said, “I think we’ve got most of the ripe ones now. Let’s rest a little down by the stream before we head back.”

  Gratefully, Korram followed her and her husband down the slope. He sat on the bank beneath some shady trees and splashed water on his sweaty face while the horses quenched their thirst. The two Mountain Folk, however, both waded into the creek and lay down until the water completely covered them. Seeing Korram’s startled expression as they sat up again, Korth laughed. “It’s the best way to cool off. Our clothes will dry soon enough in this sun.”

  He’s right. On an impulse, Korram scooted off the bank and into the water as well. It was colder than he had realized, but only a couple of feet deep. He held his breath and lay back on the pebbly streambed, the current tugging gently at his clothes as it swept over and around him.

  As he sat up and clambered out again, dripping and laughing at how good it had felt, Korram caught a glimpse of Trayven washing clothes downstream. The servant was watching him with scornful amusement in his face, but he quickly turned away when he caught Korram’s gaze.

  Let him think what he likes. I’m going to gain the Mountain Folk’s trust, recruit my army, and return home to defeat Rampus and rule Malorn. I don’t care what a grumpy servant thinks of me in the meantime.

  Their break ended all too soon. Dripping, the three of them trudged uphill to deliver the berries they had picked to camp. Korram wished for lunch, but none was being made and no one else showed any signs of being hungry.

  I can wait if they can, he told himself. It would be the first time in his life he had skipped the noon meal. He thought of Mother and Kalendria, probably sitting down to something delicious in the palace dining hall right now without him, and his mouth watered. But I’m learning to be tough. I can skip a meal now and then.

  Next, Thont assigned him to gather firewood. After that Korram helped chop up the larger pieces, thankful he had had some practice with Trayven’s hatchet during their travels so far. Then Charr handed him another basket and brought him and Thisti and Sench down to the stream. The two children walked on the other side of their mother, obviously instructed to keep a safe distance from the Lowlander, though they kept craning their necks to peer at him as they walked.

  Charr showed him how to identify a plant called wood sorrel growing down by the water, and the children giggled to think that the Lowlander didn’t already know something so obvious. The little leaves were apparently edible raw, Korram observed, watching Sench stuff a handful of them into his mouth. He nibbled one and found it tangy, a flavor that would have gone well in a salad. Hungry and in no mood to be picky, Korram snacked on the little plants as the children were doing while they all filled their baskets.

  At last the sun dipped behind a jagged peak to the west, and the flock of goats came streaming over the crest of the ridge and down to the creek to drink, led by Thorst. Ernth, who brought up the rear, greeted his sister and niece and nephew with a smile but studiously ignored Korram.

  Charr glanced at Korram’s basket, which was not as full as her own, but nodded approvingly. “Well, you can do a fair day’s work when you set your mind to it, it seems,” she allowed as they trudged back up the slope after the goats.

  Korram soon discovered that he was not invited to stay for supper. “Be back in time for the morning milking,” was all Thest said as he reached for the basket of wood sorrel, and Korram knew he was dismissed.

  Back at his own camp, he was glad to find that Trayven had caught and cleaned a little pile of fish and was busy roasting them on spits over the fire. He had gathered raspberries as well, perhaps having seen where Korram and the Mountain Folk had been picking them.

  Too tired and hungry to talk much, Korram wolfed down his share of the food and drank from the flask of water the servant had filled. But his sense of accomplishment was as strong as his exhaustion. I put in a full day’s work alongside the Mountain Folk, and they even complimented me on it. He was pleased with himself.

  Finally, he crawled into his tent, too tired even to bother taking off his boots. His last waking thought was, After all this, I’d better get my army.

  Chapter 5

  Ernth was troubled. He tossed a couple more pieces of wood onto the fire and warmed his hands over the flames, watching the red-gold sparks float up toward the bright stars overhead.

  It was late at night, and he was the only one still awake. He had always enjoyed taking his turn to keep watch over the camp at night. Everything was so peaceful – as long as there weren’t wolves or other dangers in the area, of course. But tonight all was quiet, and Ernth had time to think.

  After nearly a whole moon, the Lowlander who called himself the Prince of Malorn was still there. He spent almost all day, every day, with Ernth and his family: learning from them, helping with the tasks that made up their daily life.

  And he had been learning fast, Ernth was forced to admit. The Prince of Malorn could now identify, pick, and clean a dozen varieties of edible plants. He was learning to prepare and cook them, too, though Ernth had taken it upon himself to inform everyone that even Hungry could cook better than the Prince of Malorn.

  The Lowlander had already been a decent shot with his bow when he arrived, and he had known how to catch fish with a hook and line. But now he was learning to pluck birds, skin and clean small game, and gut the fish he caught. After several days of amusingly clumsy attempts, he had finally caught on to the art of milking. The family had started to teach him to shape wooden implements and tan hides. And though he still struggled to start a fire with firestones, he had become pretty good at arranging the kindling and building a tiny flame up into a proper blaze.

  In short, the Prince of Malorn was turning out to be a quicker learner and a more intelligent person than Ernth had thought any Lowlander could be. And that bothered him.

  Now he paced restlessly back and forth between the cluster of tents and the dozing horses, pondering the issue as he toyed with the little wad of trash he kept in his pocket. The most disturbing part, he decided finally, was that he was almost starting to think of the Prince of Malorn as a regular person. Not just a Lowlander, deceitful and ignorant and dangerous, but an ordinary person, capable of learning and interested in mountain life.

  But all Lowlanders are our enemies. Ernth’s fingers clenched around the wad. None of them can be trusted. They’re not like us.

  But the Prince of Malorn was learning to be like them. Yes, he wore boots even though summer wasn’t over and dressed in those impractical Lowlander clothes that got soggy every time it rained. Yes, he still occasionally asked questions that made no sense, or used words they’d never heard before, or brought up irrelevant Lowland issues. Most importantly, he had no horse of his own and seemed completely ignorant as to why that mattered. But he was learning to live in the mountains, and though he remarked now and then on the difficulty of the work or complained of sore muscles, it was obvious that overall, he was even enjoying it.

  Ernth had to admit that Korram was very different from the other Lowlander, the one called Trayven. Trayven obviously knew a few things about mountain life, like how to fish and hunt and start a fire, but he showed no interest in learning more. Not only that, he was lazy. Ernth often saw him sitting and doing nothing when Korram wasn’t watching. And like most Lowlanders, he hated Ernth and his family. He didn’t even bother to try to hide his disdainful looks, and he didn’t lower his voice when he made remarks about “those no-good Mountain Folk”.

  But Korram always tried to stop him from saying such things. And Korram didn’t talk about the family like that or look at them that way. He’s like no Lowlander we’ve ever met before.

  Hungry awoke and ambled out of the darkness to say hello, and Ernth stroked her soft nose and ran his fingers through her mane. At least this was one area in which the Prince of Malorn would never be as good as the rest of them, would never achieve what they had. Even after more than two years, it still filled Ernth with joy and pride
to think that he had a horse of his own, properly earned through the agonizingly difficult Rite of Acceptance. For that, he was a respected member of society, something that the Prince of Malorn could never be, no matter how hard he worked.

  And yet the Lowlander kept insisting that he had to speak to all the rest of their people, hinting that he hadn’t yet told his whole story. Ernth didn’t care about his Lowlander problems and had difficulty imagining anyone he knew being willing to leave the mountains and join some army. And yet most of his family seemed to think they should at least consider letting the Prince of Malorn put forth his suggestion to the rest.

  And, of course, there was only one way anyone could do that. But even if they tried to bring him along, he would never be allowed to talk. Actually, he probably wouldn’t even be allowed in. What would everyone think of a Lowlander trying to come to the Mid-Autumn Gathering? He might even be killed.

  Ernth sighed and leaned his forehead against Hungry’s. Whatever were they going to do about the Prince of Malorn?

  It had been nearly four weeks since he had met the Mountain Folk family, Korram calculated as he crawled drowsily out of his tent and rummaged through the leftovers from last night’s supper. He hadn’t slept well, dreams about Regent Rampus disturbing his rest all night, and now he was tired and grumpy and hungry.

  Somehow the Mountain Folk managed to start their day with nothing but milk, but Korram needed something more solid in his stomach. He found a piece of the fish Trayven cooked every evening and took a bite.

  Trayven. The servant had been getting on Korram’s nerves more and more, grumbling constantly and spending most of his time hunched over the fire whenever he thought Korram wasn’t watching, doing as little work as possible. Worse, he had been complaining about the way the Mountain Folk looked and talked and smelled, sometimes loudly enough that Korram was sure their neighbors could hear. The Mountain Folk gave him dirty looks whenever he passed nearby, and Korram had an unpleasant feeling that Trayven’s presence was hindering his cause.

  I can manage pretty well in the mountains now, Korram thought, swallowing his bite of fish and feeling around for more. Do I even need Trayven anymore?

  Maybe not. The thought was intriguing. Yes, it was convenient to return to camp after a day of hard work and find supper ready, but there was no actual reason he couldn’t go out and do some fishing or hunting or gathering of his own. If I send Trayven away, I can show the Mountain Folk how well I’m learning everything they’ve been teaching me to do. And with him gone, it would be easier for Korram to talk to them about the real reason he was here.

  The more he thought about it, the more excited Korram grew. Impulsively, he went over to the servant’s tent, grabbed a handful of the canvas, and gave it a firm shake. “Trayven, wake up.” There was no response, so he shook harder. “Trayven!”

  This time he heard a rustle of blankets and a groggy, “Hmm?”

  “Get up,” Korram ordered. “I need to talk to you.”

  “At this hour?”

  “Yes, at this hour. Hurry up.”

  There was a loud sigh and more rustles, and finally the flap was pulled back and Trayven crawled out of the tent, rumpled and drowsy-looking. “What is it?” he demanded grumpily, sitting back on his haunches and rubbing his eyes. “Your Highness,” he added as an afterthought.

  Korram sat down before him and crossed his legs. “You know, I’ve been thinking. Your services were very useful at first, helping me with tasks I didn’t know how to do myself. Fishing, trapping, chopping wood, building campfires, pitching the tents, finding the best routes up steep slopes with the mules. Now that I’ve learned those skills and a lot more besides, I really don’t think I need your help anymore.”

  Trayven stared at him, his sleepy eyes finally starting to focus. “What? I mean, I beg your pardon, Sire?”

  “You may return to the Lowlands now – I mean, to Sazellia,” Korram amended. I’m starting to talk like the Mountain Folk. “Give my mother and sister my greetings and let them know I’ll see them soon. And you might as well tell Rampus everything I’ve been doing; I know he’s expecting you to.” Thank goodness you haven’t actually seen or heard anything I want to keep secret from him.

  Trayven was still staring blankly. “What are you talking about?”

  It was Korram’s turn to sigh. “GO HOME,” he said loudly and clearly. “I don’t need you here anymore. You’re free to leave.”

  Comprehension filled Trayven’s face. “To leave,” he echoed, looking alarmed and – finally – wide awake. “Sire, Regent Rampus instructed me very clearly that I was to stay with you the entire time.”

  To spy on me. I know. “Well, Regent Rampus didn’t realize that I wouldn’t actually need you the entire time. You’re working for me here, and I’m telling you you’re dismissed. Thank you for all you’ve done, but your job is over now.”

  “But Sire, I can’t leave. Not against his orders, I can’t.”

  “If you don’t leave, you’ll be going against my orders,” Korram told him sternly. Though he didn’t have the authority he someday would as king, Malornian Law and Government made it very clear that commoners were required to obey the crown prince in everything except government matters. Unless a prince’s command contradicts a direct order from the ruling regent. But Korram was sure the servant didn’t have the legal knowledge to claim that loophole.

  “You make it clear every day that you don’t like life in the mountains,” he reminded Trayven, “and the Mountain Folk don’t appreciate your attitude toward them any more than I do. You’ll be doing my cause a favor by leaving before you reinforce their negative opinion of Lowlanders even more than you already have.”

  “But what do I tell Regent Rampus?” Trayven protested, looking genuinely worried.

  “Tell him I sent you back and you had no choice but to obey.”

  “I don’t dare go back to him without you, Sire.”

  “Well, you’re going to have to. Take your tent and your pack and two of the mules; but make sure you leave me half the fishing gear as well as the spare flint and steel so I can start a fire when I need to. That plus my sword and tent and what’s in my pack should be enough for me, and one mule, of course. You can head out this morning as soon as you’ve packed up. Have a safe trip back, and thank you for all you’ve done. I’ll see you in Sazellia when I return.”

  Without waiting for any more argument, Korram rose to his feet and marched resolutely toward the Mountain Folk camp. Soon the annoying servant would be gone and he wouldn’t have to worry that Rampus would learn of his real purpose in the mountains. He felt freer and further along on his quest already.

  But Trayven’s concern about the regent brought Rampus to Korram’s mind once again. What was the regent doing right now in Sazellia? Making plans to seize the throne if Korram didn’t return, probably. Were Mother and Kalendria safe? Rampus would probably want them out of the way eventually, along with Korram himself and anyone else who supported the prince’s right to the crown. And then who knew what he would do? Malorn had a constitution that even the king was supposed to follow, but he wouldn’t put it past Rampus to find a way around that. Rampus had so many supporters in the government – as well as everywhere else – that as long as he paid them well, he could probably get away with almost anything without losing his position.

  The rest of Malorn seemed a whole world away from his new existence in the Impassables, but Korram reminded himself that Malorn was the whole reason he was here. The kingdom was in danger of slipping into the hands of a tyrant, a villain who was hungry for complete power and would stop at nothing to get what he wanted. Only Korram stood in his way, and only Korram could save Malorn from him.

  And to do that, he had to prove his character to this family. A family that seemed to dislike him less than before and appreciate how hard he tried to learn all the skills they were teaching him.

  Except for Ernth, that is. Korram had no idea why the young man hated him so muc
h when the rest of his family was beginning to accept him. Even now, as Korram knelt in the dirt beside the others to help with the milking, Ernth greeted him with a scowl. Korram scowled back, his tiredness making him grumpy, but Ernth had already turned away and didn’t notice. So Korram focused his attention determinedly on the goat, which he could milk almost as fast as any of the others could now.

  As they stood around drinking the milk a few minutes later, old Carch peered at Korram across the fire. “You’ll go out with the goats today, I think, boy,” she declared unexpectedly.

  Korram was startled. Herding the goats was one task he had never yet been given. Perhaps this was a good sign.

  Immediately, Ernth raised an outcry. “What? Grandmother, you can’t be serious!”

  The old woman took a thoughtful sip from her milk pouch, her eyes still fixed on Korram, and nodded slowly. “Yes, I think it’s time. We’ve seen him at everything else.”

  “We can’t trust a Lowlander with our goats,” Ernth objected. “The last thing we need is to have more of them stolen. We –”

  “Oh, come off it,” Korram interrupted, sick of the way Ernth talked about him. “You know by now I’m not going to steal your things. Where would I take them, anyway? Do you think I’m going to grab a goat under each arm and run off over the hills?”

  Ernth whirled around to glare at him. “Oh, so the Prince of Malorn has a temper! What’s the matter, Prince of Malorn, did I offend you?”

  Korram knew he should bite back the angry responses crowding into his mind, but he felt as though he had been putting up with Regent Rampus all night and couldn’t deal with any more rudeness. “What have I ever done to you?” he snapped back. “Haven’t I worked hard for your family every day for the last four weeks? Haven’t I shown you I’m willing to do every task you do?”