by RG Long
Alec knocked at it three times.
A small hole popped open in the left door with the sound of a squeaky hinge. It then closed again just as quickly and the two doors opened at once.
“Master Alec! We've been expecting you!” said a large man in green. The emblem of the Southern Republic was proudly adorned on his robe. Yet the robe was a bit tattered and dirty. The man made a low bow in Crawford's direction.
“Welcome! Prince of Thoran!” he said in a loud voice.
Alec cleared his throat.
“Your aim is a bit off, Devon,” he said, gesturing to Teresa with his hand. “This is the Princess of Thoran here before us.”
Devon nearly fell over and turned crimson.
“A thousand apologies, Milady!” he said, bowing to her instead.
“Don't worry,” Teresa replied, trying not to be offended by the situation. Even others didn't see her as a princess.
“Didn't think princes were supposed to be so old,” Benton muttered under his breath.
Crawford's face, which up to that moment had been beaming with a smile, turned into a glare at the dwarf. He tried to kick at him, but his foot was still stuck in his stirrup.
Vera let out a hearty laugh, diffusing the situation entirely.
Even Teresa gave a small smile.
“Show us the way to Mara,” she said to Alec.
THEY CLIMBED THE STAIRS that lined the wall of the courtyard. A quiet balcony overlooked the open courtyard below. A porch area with several chairs was protected from the suns by a tiled roof. Through a door was a sitting room.
Teresa entered the room to find it nearly vacant, save for one woman who sat reading in a comfortable looking chair.
She was immediately reminded of her mother.
This woman sat the same way she had. Even when relaxing, it didn't appear like she was actually enjoying herself. She sat upright with very good posture. One foot was crossed behind the other and her hands delicately held the tome in front of her.
Had it been Teresa, she would have crashed onto the chair and lounged in it after having traveled all day.
The only purpose this chair served for the woman in it was to keep her balance.
She looked up and acknowledged them. Setting the book down on a small table that also held a sole cup of tea, she stood and bowed low.
“Teresa Thoran,” she said in a maternal voice. “My, my, what a woman you have become! You don't remember it, but we met many years ago. You must have only been seven at the time.”
Teresa bowed in return.
“Elder Mara. It's a pleasure to meet again,” she replied, without correcting her. She was wrong. Teresa did remember this woman.
It had been at the celebration of her younger brother's fifth birthday. All of the important people from the south had been invited to attend, as a gesture of friendship. Many elves, dwarves, and others had come to celebrate the birthday and strengthen the alliance they shared.
Teresa was running all over the castle courtyard, chasing friends both new and old and muddying up her royal garments. Her mother was scolding her every chance she got for getting her dress dirty and not acting like a 'true princess.'
Mara had come through the line just as Teresa had been convinced to stand properly, at least for a moment. At that time, she was just an aid to an elder. The elderly woman who she came with bowed low to the little princess.
Teresa bowed slightly, to the horror of her mother. When she had seen the look her mother gave her, Teresa attempted even harder to bow to the elders of the Southern Republic.
It had hurt her back and her heels. She could still feel it.
“My, my,” Mara had said as she also bowed down to her. “It's nice to see you acting like a future queen, Teresa.”
She had looked up at Mara with her seven-year-old eyes and resented her. Just like she resented her mother.
The phrase had stuck with Teresa all these years.
And she had sought ever since to prove to her mother, as well as the woman from the south whose name she had not known until she walked into this room, that a true princess need not act a certain way.
Her mother had died questioning whether or not she raised Teresa right. Her father had always been proud of her. Not her mother. She despised having Teresa fight in the army, but could do nothing to avoid it.
Now, here standing before her, was a woman who had been at the back of her mind for some time.
And she still resented her.
“You requested council from Thoran?” Teresa asked, trying to push her past far behind her and stay in the present.
Mara pursed her lips.
“Yes. I had hoped to speak with one of the princes of Thoran. I heard about your father's death and I offer my deepest condolences.”
She bowed her head.
“But I see that the princes are not here,” she continued, even looking out of the door over Teresa's shoulder.
It was all Teresa could do not to punch her in the nose.
“No ma'am,” she said bitterly, knowing she ought to do more to hide the tone of resentment.
“They have traveled north to Beaton. I've sent a delegation to bring them back. Hopefully, with them will come aid for Thoran from the northern elves, the dwarves of the west, and Beaton's own army.”
Mara raised both her eyebrows.
“My, my,” she said again. “You certainly have taken the role of princess seriously.”
Teresa wasn't sure if she meant it as a compliment or a critique. She tried not to let it bother her.
“Come, please sit down,” Mara said as she motioned to a larger table than the one she had been at. Around this wooden table sat five chairs. Alec offered to stand, pulling out Mara's chair for her and taking his place by her side.
Crawford moved to pull a chair out for Teresa, but she grabbed hold of it for herself and gave him a look.
Just to make sure he got the message, she also stood on his toe.
His eyes grew wide in pain, but he held his tongue.
Teresa sat, and her three sergeants took their places around her in chairs as well.
“These are some of the leaders of my army,” Teresa said, motioning to each one.
“Vera, Crawford, and Benton. They have served Thoran well, both over many years and just recently. We were attacked by goblins not two weeks prior,” she continued.
"I'm sorry for your recent struggles," Mara said.
Teresa knew she had to stop thinking ill of this woman if she wanted her help. Every time Mara spoke, however, she couldn't help but feel like she was being belittled or chided.
"We have also had struggles in the south," Mara continued. "Though the new regime will not acknowledge it, I know that our former head elder was not assassinated by elves seeking his power. Rather, I believe it was the work of Androlion and his mercenaries."
"Now we are ruled," she added extra emphasis to the word, "by an elder no one voted for but that was appointed by Androlion himself."
She sighed deeply.
"Now any race that is not human has gone into hiding lest they be a part of the genocide that is taking place."
Mara actually shed a very real tear before she could continue.
"Some of my dearest friends met their end underneath the capital tower. The building that was once used to keep peace is now being used to house and murder anyone who is not considered pure or clean. It’s sickening.”
Benton hit the table hard.
"The fools will see the entire continent brought to flames if they have their way!" he shouted.
"I agree," Mara said. "That's why I intend to do something about it."
She motioned for Alec to come closer and she whispered something into his year. He nodded and exited the room through a door next to the bookcase.
"As you can guess, not everyone has bought into this madness. Most of the general population who disagree simply keep quiet. They fear that if they openly object that there will be retribution again
st them. They may be right. "
"Those who are brave, however, are beginning to rally together and form a resistance. Mostly this group consists of elves and dwarfs wishing to fight back against this evil and avenge friends and family. The men and women who have joined us are now acting as spies within the Mercenaries’ ranks."
Alec returned with a piece of parchment in his hand. He presented it to Mara.
"Towards the beginning of our efforts I received this note from one who claims to be in a position of power within Androlion's ranks. This person has admitted to a desire to see this senseless bloodshed end. He or she is waiting to reveal themselves at the proper time so as to bring as many people over to our side as possible."
Teresa had many emotions running through her all at once. She was excited to hear that someone was resisting against the injustices being committed. She was already thinking of how her country could aid and support those in the south who needed it.
But this last bit of information was troubling.
"What if this person has heard of your resistance and is trying to figure out who you are so that you will be wiped out as well?"
Her sergeants nodded at one another.
Vera spoke up.
"It seems like an awfully good way to take out the leadership of your movement. Then what is to discourage them from crushing you entirely?"
Mara nodded seriously at their questions.
"These are all things I've taken into consideration. The resistance does not rest upon my shoulders alone and the only ones who are aware of this person are myself and those gathered around this table. I tell you about them to gain your trust. And," she continued, laying the piece of parchment delicately on the table, "They have revealed what I believe to be a very integral piece of information. If nothing else, I will put my own life on the line for the sake of our cause."
At that moment, two very odd looking people came from the room Alec had retrieved the parchment from.
Teresa stood immediately.
"I know you," she said, stunned at their appearance. "Holve spoke of you both."
Urt, the Skrilx, simply bowed. Felicia Stormchaser put her hands on her hips.
"Aye, I don't doubt it. I'm looking forward to speaking with the old rascal. But there's something outside you all need to see."
Teresa noted the seriousness in the tone of the captain her former general had spoken so much of. She was sad to know that terrible news must be passed on shortly.
"Ah, yes," Mara said. "This is my niece Felicity Storran and her... companion. Urt."
"It's Felicia Stormchaser, Mara," she said, annoyed. "I'd prefer not to correct you again. And don't talk about Urt like he's a pet."
Felicia shook her head sending her long braid flying behind her.
Teresa was beginning to think she might have found a kindred spirit.
"Outside. Everyone."
Except for the fact that a former ship captain just gave her a command.
"Let's do as she says," Teresa said, standing to her feet and exiting the room begrudgingly.
From the balcony of the building, she was able to see out over the wall and beyond the defenses of River Head.
Moving slowly over the horizon was a thick billowing black smoke. Before it flew all manner of birds, black as the smoke.
An army was on the move.
And it was heading for Thoran.
25: The Glorious City
Ealrin and his company had seen nothing but farmland for the last two days of walking. They traveled along a dusty road that was flanked by wheat fields on one side, ready for harvest, and a cow pasture on the other. A simple wooden fence lined the cow side of the road, keeping the cattle contained.
"Bah, do these beasts always smell so terrible?" Gorplin asked as he held his hand over his mouth.
Bertrom laughed at the dwarf.
"You get used to it after a time," he said slapping Gorplin on the back, forcing him to take a deep breath.
He gagged on the smell.
"Or at least it begins to bother you less," Bertrom said threw a fit of laughter. "One of the two,"
Ealrin was glad to see him in better spirits. Not that he had said anything that encouraged him. Perhaps it was just that the last few days had been peaceful.
Since leaving Mountain Gate, the party had only seen a handful of people.
Since the two suns had come up this morning, they had begun to see more people tending the fields or taking care of the animals.
A man with a cart rode by, carrying a large load of harvesting wheat.
"How much further till the big city, sir?" Jurrin asked. The halfling was in an exceptionally good mood.
The city of Mountain Gate hadn't impressed the little traveler and he was excited to see an even bigger city.
"Halflings!" the cart driver said. It was a middle-aged man who, upon seeing Jurgon and Jurrin, turned the sour expression on his face to one of delight.
"It's been since my childhood that I've seen one of your people. Had a good friend who was a halfling. He was just my height, until I turned ten that is. Then his family moved away from the farm after that. I haven't seen him since. I wonder if you've ever heard of Max Biggerton?"
Jurrin considered for moment.
"I'm familiar with the surname, sir. But I don't know about anyone named Max."
The cart driver's face fell a little bit.
"Oh well," he said dejectedly. "It's been on thirty years since I've seen him."
He took a deep breath and slapped the reins of his horse to move his cart along.
"Sir?" Jurrin asked again walking a bit to keep up with the cart. "How much farther to get to Beaton? We are on an important mission!"
Ealrin exchanged a quick glance with Lote. He wasn't sure she would appreciate strangers knowing about the aim of their quest just yet.
"A halfling and some others on a quest?" the driver said as he continued to have his horse trot along. "That's not something you see every day."
He scratched the stubble on his chin as if in thought.
"The big city is another day's journey in that direction," he said pointed further up the road. "You should be able to see it by the end of your walk today if you keep a good pace. I hope you brought enough coins to get yourselves inside. A large party like yours might be costly."
"We have to pay to walk into a city?" Tory asked, letting the disgust he felt ooze into his voice. "Whose half-witted idea was that?"
"Walls don't protect themselves, travelers," the man said, rather abruptly. "Safe travels. Hiya!"
The driver and his cart carried on down the road in the opposite direction they were heading.
Ealrin looked around for a moment. Just over the horizon would be the largest city he had ever seen and, potentially, the salvation of Thoran. There was only one problem.
"So how many coins do we have?" Bertrom asked the group, looking around.
Everyone felt his or her pockets tentatively.
Money had not been on the forefront of their minds when they left Thoran.
THEY WOKE EARLY THE next morning, after having slept behind a locked barn to shelter them from any potential nighttime threats. A watch was still kept, but for the first time in a few days, Ealrin rotated off the night's watch and enjoyed a good sleep.
On the barn was painted the symbol of Beaton. It was mostly agreed that they shouldn't try to break in and sleep inside of it, lest they cause any issues with the Red Guard sure to be monitoring the area.
Gorplin was still complaining about having to sleep out in the open one last time before reaching a city.
"I could've knocked down the door with a single swing," he had bragged.
Lote shut him down quickly.
"Breaking open a barn just to satisfy your desire to be under a roof instead of the stars isn't going to happen," she had told him. "Make do."
He sulked and stared at the ground, mumbling under his breath. Ealrin couldn't understand the words he was saying
, which he was sure Gorplin did on purpose.
The dwarf had become very accustomed to elf ears.
As dawn approached, the company was already on their feet and making their way to the capital city.
In fact, Beaton as a country consisted of only one major city. It was four times the size of Conny, the capital of the Southern Republic, and was nestled next to a very large freshwater lake that could provide for the huge population.
For ages, the city state of Beaton had grown and flourished. Technically, the dwarves to the west and the city held a loose alliance, though neither really bothered the other much with their business. The dwarves were content to keep to themselves, as were the citizens of Beaton.
Aside from their trade, however, the city kept to itself and its own needs.
Lote had told Ealrin that they hardly sailed south to River Head and even less to the Southern Republic.
Now that they had experience with how the politics of the strange country worked in Mountain Gate, Ealrin could at least guess as to why travel to and from the city was so minimal.
As the suns rose, they crested a hill and before them rose the high walls of Beaton. A river ran to meet the city to the west and several ships could be seen docked along its bank.
"Those are dwarven vessels," Gorplin said with a hint of pride.
The boats reflected the race that built them. Short and wide, they had several rectangular sails that lined the deck. Iron and other metal protected the sides and on the bow was the face of a master craftsman who commissioned the vessel.
Gorplin explained all of this to them as they walked on.
It was nice to not hear him complaining, Ealrin thought.
AS THE SUNS BEGAN TO rise higher, heralding the midday, the city loomed closer and closer.
As they rounded one hill and made a turn, they came upon a stretch of field that was burned down. Not a stalk of wheat was left. A lone cow, covered in soot, sniffed at the ground in search of something edible.
“I've heard of burning your field to get rid of weeds,” Bertrom said, perplexed. “But this seems a bit, extensive, don't you think?”
