The Dothan Chronicles: The Complete Trilogy

by Charissa Dufour

  “I care,” Bethany said with a smile. “And I want to know, when the time comes, will you be a Tokë and fight against the evil that has spread across your land? Or will you sit by and watch your nation fight for you?”

  The farmer cleared his throat, his eyes darting to everyone but Bethany’s face. Nuala came to his side, taking his hand and giving it a little squeeze.

  “I’ll fight m’lady. I’ll fight for you.”

  Bethany smiled again. “I’m glad to hear it.”

  “You best be moving, though. And you can walk through my fields,” he added, turning a little toward Erin.

  Out of the corner of her eye, Bethany saw Erin nod. She took Egor’s free hand and shook it.

  “Thank you, Egor. If we have need of you, you’ll hear from me.” Bethany turned to Nuala. “I have word that King Middin is dead.”

  “Long live King Gilead,” said Nuala. “And Princess Bethany, please forgive me.”

  Bethany had already turned to leave, but these unexpected words brought her back. “For what?”

  “If I hadn’t sent you through the trapdoor, you might still be with your family.”

  “And if you hadn’t sent me through that trapdoor, I might have died in that attack.” Bethany hesitated. “Were you banished for your part in that incident?”

  Nuala nodded. “Egor gave me work when I was starving on the road. Kinda overstayed my welcome.”

  The farmer smiled and wrapped his arm around his wife, unconcerned that she was once a lady-in-waiting to a princess.

  “There is nothing to forgive. You saved me, and I’m just sorry that my family treated you like this.” She glanced at her friend’s husband. “I’m assuming it would be useless to ask you to come back with me.”

  The happy couple smiled.

  “This is where I belong now,” said Nuala.

  Bethany nodded. “Watch for my signal,” she said in lieu of good bye before turning and following Erin.

  They walked for a while in silence, Bethany’s head filled with surprise, wonder, and shame. How could her family just banish anyone they thought might be connected with her “death?” Finally, she looked up to find Erin staring at her.

  “What?” she asked.

  A smile pulled on his lips. “Nothing.”

  “No. Tell me,” she demanded, her voice sounding playful, even in her own ears.

  The smile grew. “I forgot how enchanting you can be.”

  “Enchanting?” she asked with a grimace.

  “Yes. What else would you call what you just did to that poor man?”

  “Um, talking?”

  “Bethany, a princess typically doesn’t just talk with an enemy farmer. You encouraged him, inspired him. Suddenly he feels he can take on the whole enemy army. I call that enchanting someone.”

  “Have I ever enchanted you?” she asked, grinning up at him. For the first time in a long time, Erin didn’t make her feel as though he were holding her at arm’s length.

  He laughed, the sounding carrying across the empty field. “I know you too well for that. I’ve seen your dark side.”

  Bethany frowned. He had seen her at her very worst. He had seen her get a man killed because of her conspiracies. He had seen her do unthinkable things. And, what’s worse, he had seen what Féderic did to her.

  The princess was pulled from her dreary thoughts by the feeling of an arm draped over her shoulder. She looked up to see the knight staring at her again. He leaned down to whisper in her ear.

  “By the way, I like your dark side just as much as I like your enchanting side.”

  Bethany shrugged out from under his touch. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Erin grabbed her arm and kept her beside him when she would have sped up. “Yes, I do. You’re willing to get your hands dirty when it needs to happen. Not a lot of… enchanting people are willing to also work in the mud.”

  “I don’t know what you mean,” she grumbled, pulling away from his touch again.

  Once again, Erin grabbed her arm, pulling her to a stop.

  “If the world was right, you wouldn’t have to get your hands dirty. If things were as they should be, you would be home safe. But the world isn’t right. It hasn’t been for a long time, and you were forced into an impossible situation. But instead of giving in or giving up, you fought. Most people who have the grace that makes you enchanting don’t have the fortitude or the strength to fight back against the circumstances.”

  Bethany just stared at him. Erin had never spoken like this before, and she didn’t know what to think.

  “When I say I like your dark side, I mean I like that you fought, that you continue to fight. You would have a made a great queen.”

  “Are you suggesting I should have married Féderic willingly?” she asked, her anger and disgust rising up to heat her face with a blush.

  “No. Of course not. I meant in general. Even better, you would have made a great king.”

  Bethany felt her eyes grow wide before a spurt of laughter broke through her lips.

  “Imagine that,” she said, looping her arm through his and leading him back into motion. “Me a king.”

  “Oh, what a frightening thought!” he exclaimed in mock anguish.

  They both laughed and Bethany felt her world click back into place. For whatever reason, they were okay once again.

  Bethany shifted in her saddle again. Her backside kept going to sleep, now that they were riding again. They were making their way into the wooded foothills lining the Snow Cap Mountains when they noticed a man limping along the narrow path they followed.

  “Are you all right?” asked Bethany.

  “What are you doing?” snapped Erin.

  Bethany ignored him. “Are you okay?”

  The man turned to look at them. “My ‘orse was stole’d from me.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “Oh, jus’ tryin’ to get up to the village. Eerie Village.”

  “You can ride with us,” announced Bethany, without any thought to what Erin might think.

  “Bethany,” hissed Erin.

  She turned back and glared at the knight.

  “Fine,” growled Erin. “Bethany ride with me. You may have the use of her horse.”

  Erin and Bethany dismounted. She handed the reins over to the stranger and approached Erin. The knight guided her up into the saddle before joining her. The stranger mounted Bethany’s horse with a little difficulty. Bethany wondered if she should look at his leg.

  Before she could decide, Erin whispered in her ear, “When we are rid of this man, we will be having a discussion.”

  Bethany felt her stomach drop into her knees. Erin was enraged.

  They had barely made it around the next hill before the stranger kicked Bethany’s horse into a frantic run and took off.

  “Dammit,” snapped Erin. “Get down.”

  Bethany obeyed.

  “Hide. I’ll be back,” he added before kicking Éimhin into a gallop.

  Bethany looked down at Dinner. If the situation had been different, she would have burst out laughing. Dinner was staring up at her, as if to say, “What just happened?”

  She grabbed the donkey’s halter and led it up one of the hills, into a thicket. She squatted down in the underbrush and waited, trying not to think about what Erin would say when he returned. She had really done it this time. Though they could survive without the horse, it was worth a large amount. Without it to sell, they may die of starvation when they reached the bitter cold of the White Cap Mountains.

  Bethany didn’t have long to wait before Erin returned, leading her horse. The splattering of blood across his old tunic told the story for him. Her charity case had not survived. Bethany squirmed out from her hiding place and led Dinner back to the path. The knight swung down from his horse, his expressive face frozen in a glare.

  “Do you have any idea how stupid that was?” he demanded as he tossed the reins over the branch of a little bush, leavin
g the animals to graze on the few bits of greenery they could find.

  Erin stomped up to her, grabbing her by the shoulders and nearly lifting her off her feet. She tried to meet his gaze, but a feeling of guilt made her stomach turn, and in the end she lowered them to his blood-stained tunic. Though she would always want to help people, her actions had forced Erin to kill that man. Like it or not, in their current situation it was them versus the world.

  “It’s not worth helping others, ever,” he added when she didn’t say anything.

  His statement prickled her pride. “Yes it is,” she argued. “It is always worth helping someone in need.”

  A bark of laughter burst from Erin’s lips. “Says the girl who cut Féderic’s girth on his saddle.”

  Bethany felt the color drain from her race. She took a step back and Erin was kind enough to release her arms.

  “You knew about that?” she whispered.

  “I figured it out eventually.”

  Bethany swallowed. “I regret what I did to him.”

  “Don’t lie to me, Bethany. It’s not worth the effort. I can always tell when you’re lying.”

  Bethany turned away, unsure what to say next. Before she could make any decision, words parted her lips on their own accord. “Do you really think this world isn’t worth saving?”

  “I will leave that to wiser men than myself,” Erin said after a long pause.

  “I think it can be saved. But it’s going to take bravery.”

  “You think I’m not brave.”

  “Don’t put words into my mouth. Of course I think you’re brave, but I’m talking about a different kind of bravery.” She paused, working out what she needed to say before she said it. “You think. You calculate. You take all the factors into account and make an informed decision, and you are seldom wrong. In this world, sometimes we have to take a risk, even when all the signs point to it being a bad decision. We take the risk because of what it communicates to others.”

  “You think you were right in giving up your horse to a complete stranger?”

  “No, I was quite wrong, and I’d do that same thing again in a heartbeat.”

  Erin stared at her as though she had lost her senses.

  “I had no way of knowing what that man would do. All I can control is what I do: What good and bad I do in this world, and as you well know I have done more than enough bad for many lifetimes. It was possible that he was nothing more than a wounded man needing a little kindness. And who knows, maybe us showing him a little kindness would mean he would then be kind to others.”

  Bethany paused again, looking down at the dusty trail.

  “I have to set the example,” she continued when it looked like he wasn’t going to argue. “I sometimes wonder if someone had set the example for me when I arrived in Tolad, would that bird master still be alive, or would the stable master still have his position? If someone had been kind to me, would I have still done all those horrible things?”

  “Yes,” said Erin in an unusually hoarse voice.

  Bethany flinched. Her musings might have been a lie, but she wanted to think it could have been the truth. Erin closed the distance, placing his calloused fingers under her chin and lifting her face up to look at him.

  “You would have done the same thing, and let me tell you why. Because you love your country and your people, and because you hate Wolfric and everything he stands for. I’m not going to pretend I know whether you were right or wrong in doing what you did, but I know if you were in that situation again and you asked my advice, I’d have told you to fight to the bitter end. Don’t feel like you have anything to make up for.”

  “That’s a lot easier said than done.”

  A smile pulled on his lips. “Yes it is, and if you ever figure out the secret, let me know.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Pelor stood between his two guards. Three weeks aboard the ship was three weeks too long. Pelor had never endured such a horrible experience. Even his days fighting in the war against Wolfric at the frontlines had been more comfortable than his little stool in the bowels of the ship. He had never been permitted to lie down, and was given only one meal a day.

  Though Pelor admitted he had made a mistake with his captives, he didn’t think it quite warranted this treatment. The result was that he felt a great sense of relief upon seeing the Tolad port. Even from his vantage point, he could see the prisoner wagon waiting for him at the docks. His guards had sent their last carrier pigeon off to Wolfric when the sun came up and Tolad was in view. Though his guards had made certain that he was in no condition to attempt an escape, they were not taking any chances.

  He followed one guard down the gangplank, the other following close behind him. Butterflies began to dance around his stomach as he made his way down the bouncing slat. Having both his hands and his feet shackled, Pelor felt certain he would drowned if he fell off the plank. He made it to solid ground, though, and stepped straight into the waiting wagon. One guard joined him within the cage while the other took his seat with the driver.

  It was a long ride up from the docks to the castle, and the customary wind whipped through the bars of his cage, tussling his hair and burning his eyes. The chain running between the two sets of shackles meant he couldn’t reach up high enough to brush her hair out of his eyes. He also didn’t feel up to it, even if he had the freedom of movement.

  Pelor sat back against the bars and closed his eyes. The bench of the wagon was more comfortable than his old stool. He was asleep before they were out of the docking yard.

  The ex-knight woke to a sharp jab in his shin. The wagon was just entering the bailey of Wolfric’s enormous castle. Even after nearly a year out of Tokë employ, Pelor felt a customary desire to light Wolfric’s home on fire. He had too many years of trained hatred to think otherwise.

  But making a living is more important.

  Pelor stuffed the feeling of shame into his gut and ignored it. Loyalty was a characteristic he couldn’t afford any more. They stopped outside the main entrance and dragged him up the wide staircase. In the great hall, they found Wolfric, the queen, and two men Pelor assumed were sons of the king. One sat in a well-padded high-back chair, draped in furs; his face was pale and dark bags lined his eyes. The other sat next to him, his eyes continually flickering to the one who was clearly ill.

  Wolfric waved the guards away. “You’re dismissed.”

  “Are you sure, m’lord?” one of them asked. “He’s been a bit of a handful since boarding the ship.”

  Pelor rolled his eyes. He hadn’t so much as spoken a word except to request a trip to the ship’s necessary.

  “I said ‘get out!’” barked the king, his face growing red behind his white beard.

  The guards scurried away, taking the keys to the shackles with them.

  “Rulfric,” said the king to the young man sitting by the sick prince. “Get the man a chair.”

  Rulfric bounced up, scurried around to one of the far tables and returned with a chair for Pelor. Pelor was happy to see it had a back for him to lean against. He was tired of stools.

  “Now Pelor, tell me what happened. Start at the beginning.”

  Pelor realized the king was open to the possibility that he might not be the criminal everyone else thought he was, but not enough to actually release him from his bindings. Pelor thought for a second, not wanting to just spill the story and get himself into unnecessary trouble.

  “I tracked them, first spotting Sir Caldry in Mirartock, though I did not see the woman. I tried to track him through the city. I didn’t want to take him until I had seen the woman. I had no way of knowing if he would give her up. Sadly, he lost me in the crowd. That’s when I messaged you.

  “I then continued to track them up northward, finally catching them in a Zemê camp. They had booked a passage across the wastelands. The Zemê assisted me in capturing them. I then took them down to Topaq, where I booked a passage for all of us down here, thinking a sea voyage would be
faster. I had spent weeks keeping the two of them in check. I had no reason to believe they would be able to escape a full barracks when they couldn’t escape my sole care deep in the woods.”

  “So they escaped while in the barracks at Topaq?” the king asked.

  “Correct, my lord.”

  “Did you have guards on them?”

  “I did not. They were tied together. I had no reason to believe they could undo their bindings, much less sneak past an entire city’s worth of soldiers.”

  “You were a fool, Pelor.”

  “Yes, my lord, I was,” admitted the ex-knight, though he was thinking of something entirely different; had he made a mistake in not joining them and returning to Dothan?

  “You should have used every resource available to you in that barracks to keep them under control!” barked the king.

  “And you should have told me I was pursuing Princess Bethany Kavadh!” Pelor snapped back.

  “You know Bethany?” asked the sick man in a quiet voice.

  Pelor let out a gusty sigh. He had done it now; he had revealed the secret he meant to take to his grave.

  “Before coming to Tolad, I was a knight in King Middin’s court.” A spurt of gasps interrupted him, but he plunged forward. “I was in charge of Bethany’s caravan when it was attacked. When she went missing, Middin blamed me… and banished me.”

  Pelor knew he was taking a great risk by revealing his past so completely, but he felt it was better to get Wolfric to see him as a potential spy. He would give up any information about the Tokë with only the barest hint of a regret.

  “You. Worked. For. Middin?” asked Wolfric, pronouncing each word slowly. “And you didn’t think I’d want to know that before sending you after Bethany?”

  “In no way did my past impede my judgment or my abilities. Bethany is the reason I was banished. She failed to trust me to keep her safe, and the result is she vanished. It is because of her I spent months starving, looking for work. I have no love loss for Middin or his family.”

  Pelor spoke his speech with such hatred no one dared doubt him.