Princess of the Emerald Valleys

by Cassandra Finnerty

  “I understand. At least we have a head start, although it might be tough to maintain.”

  “What do you mean?” she asked.

  “There’s a storm ahead. It could get quite turbulent.”

  “Is it too late for an alternate course?” she asked.

  “We can try, but I’m not hopeful.”

  “Reduce sail, and batten down. Have the soldiers secure the weapons. Tell the lookout crew to watch for unusual activity.”

  “Aye, Commander. Everyone knows we’re on alert.”

  She nodded. “Proceed to the Land of Penge. I’d like to be halfway there before the Kingdom of Insula realizes that their hostage has escaped.”

  As Ryen rushed off, Aisling headed to the Captain’s Quarters. It was going to be a rough journey.

  She had a feeling it was just beginning.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  LIGHT AND DARK

  Sleep was elusive.

  After the harrowing rescue in the ice castle, Aisling lay in bed, thinking about ways to thwart the enemy. They would have discovered Advisor Erik missing by now, she concluded. Her magical commands had left her feeling depleted and anxious.

  As the ship strained against the rising gales, she tried to focus on positive images. Her thoughts kept coming back to the prince. More than anything, she realized, I wish he were here. She reminded herself that once her mission was completed, they would be reunited.

  After awhile, she fell asleep, and began to dream. An image of Drayaen came into view. He was on the Cara. She could see men shouting, racing up and down the deck. It looked like the ship was in some sort of trouble.

  She tried to help, but her feet wouldn’t move.

  She shouted, but there was no sound.

  Aisling gasped and sat upright, struggling to breathe. She peered into the darkness, but there was nothing there.

  It was just a nightmare, she thought. The prince must have returned from Cork by now. He couldn’t be on the Cara. Her heart began to pound as she realized that perhaps he wasn’t home after all. Could he have decided to come after her? What if he were now in danger?

  She tossed aside the blankets and made her way over to the desk. As she clutched her necklace, she considered the options. Retrieving her second dagger, she clasped the jeweled handle, and extended the wand into the air.

  “I decree that any knowledge about the Fifth Prince and his current situation be revealed.”

  The luminous aura appeared, and images began to form. The Cara was at sea. It looked as though one of their sails was damaged. Winds were buffeting the vessel, and pulling it closer to a precarious coastline.

  She strained for signs of landmarks. The shore was on the starboard side. It wasn’t clear where they were headed. He must be returning from Cork, she thought, and it took longer than expected.

  Aisling retrieved her first scepter, and held it aloft. “I command that the battering winds stop, so that the Cara may proceed to sea without incident.” After a few minutes, the frenzied activity on the deck ceased. She strained to see more details. She waved her scepter and intoned another command.

  “I decree that the prince receive a message that I’m on my way to the Land of Penge.” A few moments later, the pictures faded.

  Aisling sat in her chamber, in total darkness. Once again, she realized, the second sword had provided her with insights. It wasn’t clear if it heard her pleas, but she believed it made a difference.

  It gave her hope that a lifeline existed between her and the prince, despite the distance between them.

  It was dawn when Aisling heard a loud knock at the door. She rose, and rushed to dress in the dark before ushering Ryen into the chamber.

  His hair was askew and he seemed out of breath.

  “What’s wrong, cousin?”

  “We’re taking on water.”

  “Where?” she asked, tapping her fingers on the table.

  “Below deck. We’ve patched what we could, but it won’t hold for much longer.”

  “I understand, but if we stop now, it will give our enemy a chance to catch up.”

  He nodded. “We could travel to the Faroe Islands and make our repairs, before heading to the Land of Penge.”

  “That’s a risky move. Lord Thrain’s people are familiar with that area.” She glanced at the map. “Are there other options?”

  “Push through the squall, and then anchor in the open waters. Our pursuers won’t expect it.”

  “All right. We have our plan. Once the storm breaks, we’ll hide in plain sight.”

  She watched as Ryen left, and hoped they had a decent head start.

  Aisling and Patrick sat in the sick bay, across from Advisor Erik.

  “How are you today?” she asked.

  “Better, thank you. I’m grateful to both of you.”

  “No need to thank us. King Chauncey asked for our help, and we were happy to oblige.”

  “I wouldn’t have survived much longer,” he said, looking into the distance.

  “What happened?” asked Aisling.

  “My sovereign sent me to meet with King Gardari. He needed more allies to fight those who have turned against him. When I arrived at Insula, I had expected a warm welcome. Instead, I was thrown into the ice cave.”

  “By whom?”

  “Lord Thrain. He’s working for King Gardari now.”

  She furrowed her brow. “Doing what?”

  “King Gardari is expanding his empire, and he’s promised wealth for anyone who will help.”

  “Why did they hold you captive?” she asked.

  “They demanded that I disclose King Chauncey’s plans. I refused.”

  “What do you think they’ll do next?”

  “They’ll come after us. A victory will help their cause.”

  “There’s something that troubles me,” said Aisling. “Up until this point, Insula has been an ally of Penge. They appeared to be a quiet kingdom. Now, it seems, they’re wreaking havoc. What’s changed?”

  “A few things, I think. Our king is losing his power. They’re waiting to move in and grab it.”

  “I understand that. Whenever there’s blood in the water, the sharks will congregate. But what about the other reasons?”

  “I’m not sure, but I believe it has to do with the king’s brother.”

  “Who is he?”

  “The King of Floe.”

  Aisling gripped the sides of the chair. “What?”

  The advisor nodded. “King Gardari is attacking anyone who might have been involved in the death of his brother.”

  “What happened to Floe?”

  “No one knows. He hasn’t been seen for quite some time.”

  “Is there anything else you can tell us about the ruler of Insula?”

  “He met with your father a few days before Lord Bailey died.”

  Aisling paled. “Do you know why?”

  “I’m not sure. From what I gather, Gardari and Floe wanted to expand their base of power. For some reason, they saw your father as a thorn in their paw. I can’t imagine that it was a cordial conversation.”

  Aisling sank back in her chair. When her father alerted her to threats near home, she had assumed it was a local faction. Instead, she realized, she wasn’t fighting one betrayer. There was a network of formidable opponents. They were a menace to other countries, and members of the secret society.

  This is why I’m here, she thought. To eliminate the dark forces and purge them from our group.

  She recalled her previous assignments. The quest in the East Kingdom, she realized, was similar to the current situation, but on a smaller scale. Her second mission—the conquest of King Floe—enabled her to vanquish a powerful criminal. The third mission would involve multiple adversaries.

  It meant the elimination of enemies whose tentacles reached across the globe.

  Aisling made her way to the lower decks, with Ryen in close pursuit. When they reached the cargo area, she could see the inflow of water. The force
of the storm had created sizeable leaks in the hull. Soon, the pumps would be overwhelmed by the water level. The situation was urgent. Aisling turned to Ryen.

  “It looks like the problem is getting worse. We’ll need to stop here.”

  “What about the enemy? They may be right behind us.”

  “We’ll be in more danger if we delay these repairs,” she said.

  “Aye, ’tis true. I’ll put more men on it now.”

  “How long will it take?”

  “If we work fast, about four hours. But there’s no guarantee that the fix will take hold in these conditions.”

  She nodded. “Do the best you can.”

  As the men scrambled to plug the gaps with oakum, the princess hoped they could make it through the crisis. She thought about a strategy that might help. Aisling made her way back to the Captain’s Quarters, and retrieved her wand. She’d never attempted such a feat before, but in her mind, it was the best option.

  She extended her dagger up to the sky. “I command that day turn into night.”

  The energy hurled through her hand, and ascended into the atmosphere. She secured her wand, and watched as the fragments of sunlight disappeared.

  The king grew impatient. He sat on his throne, strumming his fingers. All around him were sounds of celebration. The Festival of Asrai had been going on for days. Let them have their fun for now, he reasoned. I need them to be loyal servants. Once I conquer more territories, they’ll be dancing to a different tune.

  His irritation increased when he thought about the intractable King Floe. Gardari admired his brother’s nerve, but lamented his rash behavior. Whenever their plans came close to fruition, Floe would always do or say the wrong thing. On several occasions, he even bragged about his intentions to the enemy.

  It had cost them both.

  Gardari wasn’t certain that Floe was dead. He convinced himself that someone might be holding him for ransom. He had to make sure it wasn’t King Chauncey.

  He looked out at the crowds and smirked. When his guards had described the shock on the advisor’s face after being taken prisoner and thrown in the ice cave, Gardari felt a keen sense of satisfaction. Floe may be reckless, he thought, but I am far more formidable.

  The advisor could rot, for all Gardari cared. As long as he had leverage and could bargain with King Chauncey, he had no worries. Some naval forces from Penge had already joined his fleet. In a few weeks, he concluded, there would be no more negotiation. I’ll take what I want, he vowed.

  He surveyed the space below him and frowned. The queen was spending too much time with one of his lords. She’d have to be replaced. “Pity, I was just starting to get used to her, too,” he mumbled in disdain.

  It was almost dawn. At some point later today, Gardari reminded himself, he should have his guards question the advisor again. He needed to know King Chauncey’s plans. He descended the throne, motioning for everyone to continue.

  The entertainments bored him.

  He was too busy hatching new plots.

  It was late the next day when the king left his chamber. Tonight, the Festival of Asrai was ending, and everything would return to normal.

  Almost.

  As his emissaries arrived to deliver their updates, the king tapped the armrest. He wasn’t impressed. He stood and jabbed his finger in the air.

  “What about progress in Bengal? Where is that wand my brother wanted?”

  One of his agents bowed. “It’s gone, Your Majesty.”

  The king glowered. “What do you mean?”

  “Well, after the King of Floe, ahem, acquired it, pirates in Melaka stole it. From what we can tell, someone then took it from them.”

  “What about the dagger from the Nawab?”

  “We’re working with people close to him. They can’t find it.”

  The king waved his arm, as if warding off the bad news. He felt an urge to berate their incompetence and push them off a cliff, but he held his temper in check.

  “Increase the reward, then. Put more men on it.”

  There was a collective exhale of air as the representatives backed out of the room, and rushed through the door in their haste to evade the king’s smoldering fury.

  Gardari eyed his two guards in the back of the chamber. They were about to make a rapid retreat, along with the rest of the puppets.

  “You there,” said the sovereign, pointing his finger at them. “Come here. I want an update on King Chauncey’s advisor.”

  The men glanced at each other, and plodded to the middle of the room.

  “Well?” the king snapped.

  “We haven’t learned anything new. It seems he’s been ill, and well, now he’s retreated to the interior of the cave.”

  “What?”

  “He was hiding in one of the chambers, but a portion of the grotto fell into the sea.”

  “When?”

  “Well, because of the holiday, we’re not sure. It was noticed earlier today.”

  Beneath his cool exterior, the king was boiling with rage. “He’s missing, you say?”

  “Well, yes and no, Your Majesty. He couldn’t have gone far. It’s possible he threw himself into the sea—or fell in—we can’t tell for sure. But we haven’t found a body.”

  “Don’t come back until you’ve found him.”

  The men nodded and sprang to the exit, away from the scrutiny of those cold and vengeful eyes.

  The king looked out the window, as the blustery winds created insurmountable snowdrifts. He knew the advisor would never be found. His hostage was long gone, snatched from him, like a helpless child unable to hold onto a toy.

  There was one such person who could have pulled off this feat, he realized. A storm was surging beneath his bones. Inside, he was a quivering mass of fury. At that moment, he realized that it wasn’t enough to acquire power from others. His new goal was total control over the secret society.

  He would steal that crown from her, any way he could.

  She would pay.

  One way or the other.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  ORKNEY ISLANDS

  The prince paced on the deck, looking out at the fierce waves. Soon he’d have to retreat to his cabin. The prospect was not a pleasing one. At least out here, in the open air, he could breathe. His mind raced as he thought about his wife, facing unknown enemies and violent weather. He turned at the sound of approaching footsteps, and watched as Sean moved down the deck.

  “Anything?”

  The officer nodded. “Something strange.”

  “What is it?”

  “The lookout crew is reporting that it’s dark up ahead.”

  “Because of the storm?”

  “No, it seems we’re going into some sort of celestial tunnel. That’s the logical explanation.”

  The prince could feel his heart pound. Aisling’s near, I can sense it, he realized.

  “You still want to head to the Land of Penge?” asked the officer.

  “I do. If the princess is retrieving someone from Insula, she’ll have to deliver them back to King Chauncey.” He was surprised by his level of certainty, but every fiber of his being told him it was the right move.

  “It’s too late to evade the storm,” said Sean.

  “What are the options?”

  “Anchor somewhere off the coast, or keep going and hope the ship holds up.”

  The prince looked out at the horizon, and turned back to his captain. “I’d like to continue, unless you think the risk is unacceptable,” he said, clutching the hilt of his sword.

  Sean sensed his impatience and thought about the options. “There’s danger in either case. We’ll keep going.”

  “All right. How much farther to Penge?”

  “At least a week, if we’re lucky.”

  The prince pushed back his hair and muttered under his breath. “Let me know if there’s any news.” Drayaen headed to his quarters and hoped he would find her soon.

  Aisling paced in her chamber.
She looked up to see Patrick in the doorway, and motioned for him to enter.

  “How are you feeling, Commander?”

  “I’ll be fine, once we’re out of danger,” she said. “We’re taking on more water than I would like.”

  Patrick nodded. “I talked with Ryen earlier. The men have made progress, but the thrust of the gales has slowed their efforts,” he said.

  “How is our patient faring?”

  “He’s recovering, but his harsh treatment on Insula has taken its toll. He was deprived of food and warmth. I’m amazed that he’s survived.”

  “I’m sure you’ll return him to good health in no time.”

  “Speaking of which, that’s why I’m here. I’ve made you an herbal potion. You haven’t been getting much sleep. In your condition, that’s not good.”

  Aisling smiled. “How long have you known?”

  “Since your return from Cork. That’s why you wanted me on this trip, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, it’s eased my mind to know that you’re here. I admit that I’m feeling a bit under the weather. I’ve endured fierce storms before, but the motion of the waves is wreaking havoc on my system.”

  “That’s to be expected. The tonic should help. Try and get some sleep.”

  “Thank you, Patrick.”

  As he left the Captain’s Quarters, she looked out at the murky seas, and hoped the prince was somewhere safe.

  It was still dark when Aisling heard a pounding noise. She fumbled for a candle and dressed before flinging open the door. Ryen stood in the entry, disheveled and out of breath.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Our pumps are failing.”

  “What about the repairs?”

  “Some have taken hold, but the storm has weakened several boards in the hull.”

  “What’s our exact location?”

  “About seven miles from Scotland.”

  Aisling hurried to her desk and scanned the map. “I was here with Father a few years ago. There’s a deep-water anchorage in the area, called Scapa Flow. It’s surrounded by the Orkney Islands, near the mainland.”