The Dothan Chronicles: The Complete Trilogy

by Charissa Dufour

  In all her life, Bethany had never seen a horse more trusting of its master. The one blessing of this arrangement was that Bethany was too busy worrying about Éimhin to worry about herself. When the path widened again, they removed the blindfold and the knight returned to his task of guiding his horse.

  The trail switched back and forth, winding down the mountain for miles. Occasionally, they would get a glimpse through the peaks at the world beyond. The first time they stopped to admire the view, it took Bethany’s breath away.

  “Where is Dothan?” she asked, looking out beyond the surrounding mountains into a grayish-green landscape.

  From this distance, she couldn’t make out much detail, but she thought she saw a wide river snaking away to the right. Was that the Narrow Sea, a river so wide it had been titled a sea?

  The knight burst out laughing, causing Bethany to glance up at his scarred face.

  “That water, you see off to the left, that’s Bumi Inlet.”

  Bethany gasped. She knew her father’s maps well enough to know that the Bumi inlet was hundreds upon hundreds of leagues south of her hometown. Until now, she never knew just what a league meant, not only in mathematical terms, but what it meant to the body and the mind of a traveler.

  She knew this landmark—the Bumi Inlet—to be far away from her home, and yet she had a sneaking suspicion they were still days, if not weeks, away from reaching it. How could they possibly hope to pass through this great, cruel world and survive?

  “Now you have an idea of what it is we have to face,” said the knight in a strangely subdued voice.

  Did he also realize just how dangerous their journey was likely to be? Just today they had nearly died, plunging head first over a cliff. What would happen when they met bandits or got caught stealing supplies? And what about when they did reach her homeland and they had to cross the White Cap Mountains. She knew from her studies that the Whitecap Mountains were even higher and more treacherous than those surrounding Tolad. Would they be free to use the proper roads there?

  “Let’s keep going,” added the knight when he moved forward and she remained stationary, still looking out over the expanse before them.

  Bethany was grateful that the knight didn’t tease her about her recent revelation. It was hard enough for her to accept the reality that they probably would never reach Dothan.

  Hours later they were still trapped on the narrow cliff-side path and the sun was starting to set. Bethany felt a panic begin to build inside of her as she considered the possibility that they might need to spend a night on the narrow ledge. Thankfully, just when she was sure the knight would call them to a halt, the path turned around a sharp bend and opened into a narrow, flat valley. Running down the center of the valley was a stream completely frozen over.

  Growing alongside the stream was a dense mixture of trees, some evergreen, some bare of leaves. It was a lonely place, so quiet that Bethany felt an involuntary shiver run up her spine. The surrounding mountains blocked out what was left of the evening sun and the trees nearly plunged them into total darkness.

  “We’ll camp here,” said the knight unnecessarily.

  Bethany walked to a dense section of trees, where the ground was nearly bare of snow, and collapsed against a tree trunk. She had just closed her eyes when she felt a hard jab in the hip.

  “What?” she wailed, exhaustion taking away any diplomacy.

  “Your job is the horse,” he ordered, tossing the ends of Éimhin’s reins into her lap.

  “What are you going to do?” she demanded before she could stop herself. “Sit around and watch me work. You tend to the horse. Or do you forget who I am?”

  Before she could duck, the knight slapped her across the face.

  “Right now, you’re no one but a lost little girl. You want to get home to your mommy, you work. When I get you to Dothan, you can thank me and go back to being a princess. But until that time, you will work and not whine. Do you understand me?”

  Bethany rubbed her sore cheek as she glared up at the knight. Bethany didn’t think he’d get much of a reward after all.

  “I think I understand you,” she growled, still rubbing her cheek, before taking the reins and walking away.

  Bethany worked hard, more out of anger than any sense of obedience or complacency with the knight. Mostly, though, she didn’t want to get hit again.

  “I’ll be back,” he said a few minutes later, after he had made sure she was in fact working.

  She ignored him and continued to remove Éimhin’s tack, her exhausted muscles shaking under the weight of the saddle. She more dropped than lowered the heavy item, and left it right where it landed.

  “I’m going set some traps,” he added when she didn’t say anything. “Make sure you find some dry tinder, too.”

  Bethany nodded again, unwilling to talk to him.

  She continued to work, using the scrap of burlap they had set aside, to wipe down the giant horse. It was very dark by the time the knight returned, their only illumination what little moonlight made it past the peaks and the trees. She had finished the horse and found a generous helping of dried twigs and branches after a long hour of searching. Bethany searched right up until the knight returned in an effort to stay warm. Work was better than sitting in the snow and remembering.

  Cal slipped and slid his way back down into their little valley. It hadn’t been easy setting traps without much in the way of supplies, much less in the dark, but he’d managed to get a few respectable ones arranged before the setting sun forced him to turn back.

  He found the princess on her knees, her rump in the air, and her head buried under a thick bush. Even in the snow, he walked softly enough to sneak up on her. When she emerged from the bush, many dried twigs in her hands, she started and dropped her bounty in the snow.

  “Glad to see you’re obeying,” he said, not knowing what else to say.

  Instead of trying to think up a conversation, Cal turned away and started building their fire away from the snow-laden trees. They wouldn’t be very comfortable if the heat of their fire melted the snow so that it dropped on their heads.

  “Find any flat stones?” he asked as he coaxed the little fire to life.

  “I was too busy finding your sticks,” she snapped, tossing a small heap of wood onto the ground next to him.

  Cal looked up at her, forcing his face into a glare. He didn’t want to hit her again. He hadn’t liked hitting her before, either, but she had to learn that she couldn’t be a princess out here. Out here, princesses died and he actually didn’t want that to happen to her. She just had to put up with a little more work until he got her to Dothan.

  As he expected, she glared back for a few seconds before stomping away. He would have warned her against such unnecessary noise if they hadn’t been in such a remote valley. In fact, Cal wasn’t even sure where they were. He wouldn’t be telling her that, of course. She didn’t need to know. Knowing would just make her doubt his judgment, and he needed immediate obedience from her. If she had continued to argue with him earlier, they would very likely be in the care of Wolfric’s guards by now.

  A little while later, she began to deliver large, flat stones to him. She looked very cold and very tired, but then again he was cold and tired too. They both had to keep working so long as there was work to be done. When she brought the third stone back he said she could be done.

  The princess flopped onto the ground next to him, dragged the blanket across her thin body, and propped her wet, make-shift boots up near the fire. No doubt her feet were freezing. He really needed to find her real leather boots.

  He nudged her before handing her a piece of the beef. She was still much too thin, but with their scant provisions and the long journey ahead of them, he couldn’t risk giving her plenty now and running out later.

  She glowered at him as she gnawed on it. Finally, with a sense of relief second only to his companion’s, Cal reclined against the tree, pulling half the blanket over himself. She
squirmed a little, finally resting her back against his legs.

  “Next farm we see, can we steal a second blanket?”

  “Suddenly okay with stealing are we?” he asked, gently nudging her back with his knee.

  “Whatever it takes, right?”

  “Whatever it takes,” he agreed before settling back against the tree and drifting off into a light doze.

  Chapter Twelve

  Lyolf urged his light riding horse into an easy pace and tugged on the lead to his warhorse, which was burdened down with his gear. The ex-prince glanced back at bulky beast. It felt wrong to degrade the mighty animal to nothing more than a pack mule, but he had plenty of things he wanted to take with him, and the sturdy animal could carry twice the weight of his pleasure horse.

  His parting hadn’t been at all like he expected. He had wanted to slip out unseen by anyone, before the sun had even risen, but twenty-two years of obedience to the king kept him from sneaking out. Instead, he had gone down to the king’s office at first light, his belongings already packed and piled down by the stables.

  Lyolf entered the office to find the king already busy.

  “Ah, there you are,” said Wolfric, as though he had been expecting his ex-son hours earlier. “Please have a seat.”

  Lyolf swallowed the lump forming in his throat and sat down. He would have felt more comfortable if Wolfric had continued to treat him with the same subtle loathing that Lyolf had endured since his hair first turned black. Instead, he was confronted with a professional indifference that left him on edge. Lyolf sat down and tried his best not to squirm.

  “As I said I would, I have a letter here for you, for General Drystan.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “I should make it clear, you are still a Knight of the Order. I have stipulated to Drystan that you are not to be a foot soldier.”

  Lyolf opened his mouth to argue, but thought better of it. When Wolfric was sure that he would get no backlash, he continued.

  “I will also be issuing a proclamation, saying that you have chosen to abdicate your crown.”

  Lyolf nodded. He had never expected Wolfric to share the real truth with his people, though he doubted any were still in the dark. All they had to do was take one look at him and the king side by side.

  “Moreover, I have signed over to you a small estate in Nava. It’s not much, and would have likely gone to Josric, but I hope to have plenty more estates to give out by the time he needs one. It is your choice as to whether you wish to join General Drystan, or settle on your new land. It has a keeper and is well looked after.” With this, Wolfric handed over a leather tube with the documents. “You are free to live your life.”

  “Thank you, my lord. Will you do me the favor of giving this letter to Prince Féderic when he has recovered sufficiently?”

  “I will, and I will tell him that he can reply by sending a pigeon to Nava. They will know where to find you.”

  Lyolf nodded, handed the king the letter he had prepared for his brother, and left. He probably should have bowed to his king, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

  Now he was heading toward his new home. Nava was a sea-side town of decent size. It was one of the more northern towns in Wolfric’s land and, therefore, close to the front. This meant it often housed large battalions of soldiers, giving the impression of more people than it actually had. He had only visited it once in his life.

  Lyolf sighed. It would be a long, lonely journey. Thus far, he had already spent one night at a farm house, where he paid a half-silver piece for a bed on their floor and a meal. It was better than camping out in the snow, though he suspected he would have to do that eventually.

  Maybe he would spend some time in the Bumi area, seeing the sights of their enormous cities and gilded sculptures which towered over a tall man. Too bad the cities would be overrun with his father’s soldiers, their liveries reminding him of the home he had lost.

  I want this, he reminded himself as he dropped into a valley with a proper village.

  It took Bethany and Cal three more days of frozen toes and mostly-empty stomachs to reach the foothills. For a regular traveler, the journey from Tolad to the foothills would have taken no more than two or three days, but their need to avoid human contact and their inability to use the road meant the journey had taken an entire week. By the time the dwindling snow disappeared altogether, Bethany was ready to reconsider her need for the knight’s company and protection.

  During the last week, she had worked harder than she had ever worked as a slave. They chopped their way through the dead underbrush, most of the time using their bare hands. Bethany had more blisters and splinters now than she had cutting the reeds. Even when they stopped for the night, she was not allowed to rest until the horse was pristine and the tack was checked for signs of wear.

  “The last thing we want is for the saddle to snap when we’re running from someone,” said the knight when she had argued.

  His statement, and the gleam in his eye, brought Prince Féderic’s “accident” to her mind. Did Sir Caldry know she had damaged the prince’s saddle and caused the incident which had taken Féderic months to recover from? From that point on she didn’t complain about her assigned tasks. She didn’t want to be reminded of how she had nearly killed the prince.

  Then again…

  Bethany squeezed her eyes shut. She refused to cry again. She had cried enough over the attack. It was in the past, and she didn’t need to remember it. She didn’t need to remember the weight of Féderic’s body, or the heat of his wet breath on her neck, or the way…

  Bethany felt a hand grab her shoulder and shake her body until her teeth clattered. She looked up at the knight, suddenly recollecting where she was. Sir Caldry didn’t say anything, but nodded slowly before turning back to continue their journey. She had no doubt that the hard man in front of her knew exactly what had just happened. She had panicked and he had saved her from it all over again.

  The princess kicked at a rock on the path, instantly regretting it. Her make-shift boots of cloth and burlap were not holding up against the many long hours. She hopped on one foot, glaring at the back of the knight and his thick leather boots. She didn’t want to owe him anything else, and she didn’t want him knowing how much she was still struggling after the attack.

  Sure, most of her body had healed, except for the worst of the bruising, but that didn’t mean she was okay. Not by a long shot. It didn’t help that she had little faith in her companion. The more she thought about it, the more she felt the need to leave him behind, but she couldn’t take his warhorse.

  Éimhin was too faithful a horse; he would never leave with her, no matter how strong she was. The enormous animal would simply throw her and return to his master. And she couldn’t make the long journey without a horse.

  I’ll just bide my time, she told herself as she marched behind the knight, content to not have his penetrating gaze on her.

  It must have been another hour or two of trudging through the melting snow and mud before they stopped alongside the narrow trail they had been following for a short break. The knight tossed her another piece of jerked beef. He was having to reach into the very bottom of the bag for their rations, and Bethany began to worry about their next meal. She forced the thought to the back of her mind. If she had her own way, she wouldn’t be relying on the knight’s stolen food for much longer.

  After a few minutes of silent chewing, Sir Caldry climbed to his feet and tossed the reins to her.

  “Where are you going?” she asked.

  “I don’t know about princesses, but men sometimes need to pee,” he said before stomping away.

  Bethany blushed at his statement. No one in her family would ever speak on such a topic. She gladly remained where she was, happy to have the time to plot and scheme. Long before she had any real plan laid out, she heard the sound of the knight returning. She turned to watch him approach, surprised by the noise he was making. The reason for the racket b
ecame clear. Sir Caldry was leading a bedraggled gray donkey, it’s short, stubby legs tripping over the larger mounds of un-melted snow.

  “Look what I found,” announced the knight with a grin.

  “Found?” Bethany asked.

  “Well, found, stole.” Sir Caldry shrugged under his heavy armor.

  Bethany glowered up at him, the expression feeling almost habitual.

  “I’m sorry, would you rather walk?”

  She didn’t remove the glare as she climbed to her tired feet and eyed the animal’s bony back. The donkey, while less than half the size of the warhorse, came up to her stomach.

  “I don’t know how to ride without a saddle,” Bethany said, trying to hold on to whatever dignity she had left. It wasn’t much, she admitted.

  “Don’t fall off,” sneered the knight before tying the lead to Éimhin’s saddle.

  The giant warhorse turned back to the little donkey and gentle nuzzled its ears. The donkey let out a loud bray. Bethany glanced up at the knight, giving him a look that said, “Very stealthy.”

  “Not a word,” he ordered before mounting his horse.

  Bethany struggled up onto the donkey’s back and winced as the animal’s back bone cut into her healing privates. She began to wonder if she wouldn’t rather walk instead.