Legends Lost Tesnayr

by Nova Rose

  Chapter III

  A Message for the King

  The next morning Nigilin awoke to an incessant clanking in Tesnayr’s shop. His curiosity piqued, he investigated. There Tesnayr had dressed in thick armor that he had spent the night making. Canteens hung freely from a pack next to him. Nigilin watched as Tesnayr placed a knife in his left boot. “Preparing for a war,” he commented.

  “War? No. But there is a strong possibility that we will meet some resistance on our way to your king,” replied Tesnayr.

  Nigilin smiled. “Where did you find all this?”

  Tesnayr strapped his traveling pack to his back and sheathed his sword. “I made them all. I began doing so the moment Hana told me about the rumors of strange creatures in these parts. I had hoped that my suspicions were wrong.”

  Before leaving town the two men paid Hana a visit. Nigilin detested the idea of her being left unprotected from these orcs. He knew that the fortifications Tesnayr had built around his place were strong and would hold until he returned and insisted that she move there.

  Hana refused. “I will not leave,” she replied to their pleas. “My things are here if people need my help.”

  “If you stay here and the orcs return you may be one of those they attack,” pleaded Nigilin.

  “I will not leave. I am no coward.”

  “You are far braver than most men I know, Hana,” said Nigilin, “But you will be of no use to anyone dead and you will be better protected at my cottage.”

  “What makes you think so?” asked Hana.

  “Tesnayr made some modifications,” replied Nigilin, “I assure you it is impenetrable.”

  “We could just carry her there,” said Tesnayr growing impatient.

  Hana put her hands on her hips and sighed in exasperation as a sign of her accepting defeat. “I have no doubt that you would,” she snapped. “Very well. Give me time to pack some things—.”

  “You have ten minutes,” said Tesnayr, “Take only what you need.”

  Hana packed two bags with herbs and medicines as well as food and supplies.

  “There is a sword hidden toward the left of the fireplace,” Tesnayr told Hana before parting.

  Hana forced a weak smile at Tesnayr’s statement. “When you arrive, follow the rocks,” Tesnayr finished and departed with Nigilin.

  “Tesnayr,” Hana grasped Tesnayr’s shoulder, “I am sorry about Virnae.”

  Tesnayr patted her hand appreciating her sympathy. “Stay safe.”

  Tesnayr and Nigilin left Hana’s home taking the main road out of town. A black cat trailed behind them close to the shadows.

  Late that afternoon Tesnayr and Nigilin reached the road heading north to Drynelle, the city of the King of Sym’Dul. Tesnayr set a brisk pace to which Nigilin tried desperately to keep up. His panting gave away the raw fact that he was not only older, but unused to this type of physical exertion. Tesnayr ignored it out of respect for the man and slowed slightly.

  “Tell me about your king,” said Tesnayr.

  “There isn’t much to tell,” said Nigilin. “King Slyamal is a proud man. I fought for his father years ago. But Slyamal is very different from his father. He changed even more after an attempted coup and his eldest daughter died.

  “One thing you do not know is that Sym’Dul is one of five kingdoms in this land. The others are Belyndril, Hemίl, MurDair, and Belarnia. We have fought against each other for as long as anyone can remember.”

  “Constantly?” asked Tesnayr.

  “There are times of peace, but they are short lived. Treaties come and go. Currently, Sym’Dul is at war with Belarnia,” replied Nigilin

  “It doesn’t make sense.”

  “Since when does life ever make sense?” Suddenly, Nigilin pulled Tesnayr to a halt. A woman sauntered toward them: the sorceress, Ernayn.

  He stayed Tesnayr’s hand when the man moved it to his sword. Nigilin did not despise the sorceress, but he remained wary of her. She only appeared when trouble was near and usually gave cryptic warnings.

  Ernayn had sharp features which added to her beauty. Her light brown hair fell neatly around her face accentuating her hypnotizing eyes. Accompanying Ernayn was the same teenage girl that Tesnayr had seen with the daisies. Her midnight black hair swayed gently in the breeze. The girl noticed the two men first and ran to the sorceress.

  “Hello travelers,” said Ernayn in greeting.

  “Watch yourself,” whispered Nigilin to Tesnayr, “The sorceress, though good, is not to be trifled with.” Nigilin walked ahead a little, “Good day, Ernayn. What brings you here?”

  Ernayn moved elegantly toward the two men. “My new protégé,” she said, indicating the teenage girl. “This is Quesha du’Adieu. Quesha, this is Nigilin and Tesnayr.”

  “How do you know my name?” asked Tesnayr, with an edge to his voice.

  “I know many things,” replied Ernayn. “And Quesha told me that she has met you once before.”

  “A quick meeting,” said Tesnayr, “She never said a word.”

  Ernayn smiled. “Quesha is a shy child. In time she will overcome that shyness.” She turned her attention toward Nigilin. “When was the last time we met?”

  “Nearly ten years ago,” replied Nigilin.

  “You are not here so your student can learn a lesson,” said Tesnayr losing patience at this interruption.

  Ernayn’s expression darkened slightly and Nigilin gave him a warning look. “No I did not. I came because I have heard of you, Tesnayr Deoraí. A destination awaits you. You have only just begun the journey.”

  “How do you know about me?” asked Tesnayr.

  Ernayn glanced at Quesha, who busied herself with making flowers bloom and float upwards in the air. “As I said before, I know many things. I know from where you come and where you are headed. And I deliver this message to you: you go to a king you have no loyalty to and will end up serving yourself. A day will come when you will make the choice between yourself, or something far greater. I hope you choose the latter.”

  Tesnayr eyed Quesha. “Where I come from she would have been killed for that. Such power is considered unnatural.”

  “Man will murder anyone out of ignorance, vengeance, and jealously. I know the laws of your land. They are why the orcs prevailed there,” said Ernayn. “We all have our talents. I, and my protégé, understand nature and the inner workings of the world. The woman, Hana, understands the nature of healing those who are ill; their wounds speak to her in a way others do not comprehend.

  “You, Tesnayr, know how to command and to lead because you appreciate people and truly care for them. However, you do not know yourself. A flaw many have.

  “We are given certain abilities and gifts which are to be used to benefit others. If we ignore them or use them in a manner that only serves our own desires then we lose those gifts. Is that understood, Quesha?” Ernayn finished turning toward the girl.

  “Yes, mistress,” replied the girl.

  “You came to give us riddles?” demanded Tesnayr.

  “Hardly,” said Ernayn. “For a man set on forgetting his past, you are well on your way to meeting it. Continue this course and you will have to face yourself.”

  Ernayn took note of the position of the sun in the sky. “The day is late and we must go,” she said. “It was pleasant to see you again, Nigilin. Perhaps we will meet again under more favorable circumstances.” She and Quesha disappeared quickly as though they had never been there.

  “Mysterious woman isn’t she,” said a voice.

  Tesnayr and Nigilin both turned to find a black cat sitting in the middle of the road, coyly licking its paw. They both gaped slack jawed at the feline.

  “I assure you that this is no illusion,” said the cat moving closer.

  “You are the cat that has been following me since I arrived here,” said Tesnayr.

  “Yes, and I have been following you for the past few hours,” said the cat.

  Tesnayr whispered to Nigilin, “We shou
ld continue.”

  “Suffice it to say that I am coming with you.”

  “No you aren’t,” said Tesnayr.

  “Yes, I am,” said the cat.

  “You are not coming with us,” reiterated Tesnayr.

  “Do you have a name, stranger?” asked Nigilin breaking up the argument.

  “Turyn,” said the cat.

  “Well, Turyn, I am afraid that we must take our leave,” Nigilin said to the cat.

  Nigilin and Tesnayr walked onward leaving the black feline alone in the middle of the dirt road. They travelled in silence unaware of a shadow following them. Two hours later Tesnayr pulled Nigilin to a halt. On a rock directly in front of them sat a black cat with a very smug look on his face. His tail swayed aimlessly.

  “There you two are,” said the cat, “I’ve been waiting for you for quite some time.” In actuality he had only been waiting for five minutes.

  “How did you get here?” asked Tesnayr.

  “I followed you of course,” replied the cat.

  “Well your journey ends here,” said Tesnayr.

  The two men started to leave, but the cat stopped them. “I would not go that way. There are at least fifty orcs heading this direction. You will need to find another way north.”

  “How do you—”

  “People have a habit of ignoring cats. That provides ample opportunities for me to listen in on their conversations. I know what message you carry and I am willing to help you.”

  “We don’t need a cat tagging along,” said Tesnayr.

  “Then by all means, carry on,” replied Turyn. “But I will follow you anyway and be of further annoyance than if you just allow me to join you.”

  “We’ll just lose you along the way,” snapped Tesnayr.

  Turyn chuckled to himself. “You know nothing about cats. No one gets rid of us that easily.”

  “Then lead the way,” said Nigilin silencing Tesnayr.

  Tesnayr gave Nigilin a piercing stare.

  “Have you ever tried arguing with a cat,” Nigilin whispered to him. “The cat always wins.”

  They followed the cat for the rest of the day until the sun sank low in the sky. He trotted at a brisk pace. Turyn took a route that even Nigilin did not know existed. Its rough passage and sharp rocks proved difficult, but not impassable. The cat dashed through them easily with constant reminders to hurry up. Turyn’s vocalizations raked Tesnayr’s nerves. If it wasn’t for Nigilin, he would have skinned that cat alive.

  Finally, night fell forcing them to stop. They quickly made camp, forgoing a fire. All three ate in silence before going to sleep.

  Tesnayr woke to a start the next morning. He glanced at Nigilin and noticed the black cat curled next to him. It wasn’t a dream? For a fleeting moment he had hoped that the talking cat was a figment of his imagination. But as memories of the previous two days rushed him, Tesnayr realized that it was all real. Talking cats. What next?

  A sharp, piercing cry echoed through the small ravine they slept in. Recognizing this as the thing that woke him, he got up. Tesnayr crept in the early morning sunlight examining the terrain as he followed the shriek. Its inhuman sound filled him with apprehension. His pulse throbbed in his neck. Curiosity outweighed his anxiety as Tesnayr headed for the deafening sound.

  Mud slurped around his boots as he entered a small marsh that drained into a lake. The strange noises grew louder. Absent mindedly Tesnayr gripped the hilt of his sword. He jumped, startled, at what he saw, and dashed behind a boulder.

  Ahead lay a dragon on the sandy lake-side poised in self-defense as a group of orcs circled it. It gasped in great heaving pants. Droplets of blood dotted the ground below the point where a lance protruded from its shoulder painting it red. Unsure of what to do, Tesnayr watched from his hiding place.

  Giddily, the orcs danced around the dragon poking and prodding it. One jabbed it again with its spear twisting and grinding it deep within the dragon’s flesh. The great beast reared its head releasing another deafening roar. Tesnayr covered his ears from the loud outcry. He peeked around the giant rock. The orcs continued taunting the dragon. One brought its crooked sword upon its snout. The dragon swung its head to the side catching the orc and flinging it in the air. It landed motionless. Angered, the other orcs stabbed it. Many times their blades bounced off the hard scales, but a few did pierce its flesh. Each time the dragon roared in pain.

  Tesnayr could stand it no more. He weighed his options. He could not take on an entire group of orcs, nor could he go for Nigilin. By the time they returned it would be too late. Racking his brains Tesnayr snatched a rock from the ground. He eyed the orcs making certain they were not looking in his direction. With all his might, he flung the rock overhead. It arced over the dragon and the orcs crashing on to the ground with a soft thump.

  The orcs stopped their play. One walked over to the sound. Suddenly, the dragon rose on its hind feet howling ferociously. Smoke billowed from its nostrils. Awestruck, Tesnayr watched as fire burst from its mouth engulfing the orcs. The dragon spewed fire until the entire lake and marsh cooked from its heat.

  Slowly, the flames died away. Charred remains were all that was left of the orcs. The dragon slumped to the ground. Gingerly, it tried to pull the lance from its shoulder only to fall back into the sand in even greater pain.

  Pity moved Tesnayr. Carefully, he left his hiding place. Tesnayr approached the dragon with caution. ‘I won’t hurt you,” he soothed. He pulled his sword from its scabbard and made a show of placing it in the sand.

  The dragon eyed him suspiciously.

  Step by step he neared the beast. “I’m just going to pull this thing from your shoulder. I wish you could give me some sign of understanding.”

  The dragon snorted.

  Tesnayr gently reached for the lance. His powerful hands grasped it. Quickly, he yanked it out of the dragon’s shoulder and jumped back as the beast cried in agony. Tesnayr dropped the orc spear onto the ground. He stood with his back against a rock wall facing the dragon knowing that at any moment it could devour him.

  The dragon spread its massive wings and beat them furiously. The pounding of the wind they created swirled around Tesnayr as he crouched low to the ground covering his head. Futilely, Tesnayr tried to protect himself from the pelting sand. It stopped.

  “I suppose I should thank you,” said a female voice.

  Tesnayr looked up at the dragon. He rose to his feet staring at the creature. “You’re…You’re welcome,” he stammered. Tesnayr moved away from the rocks. “Are you a dragon?” he asked.

  “You have never seen one I presume,” answered the dragon. “Yes, I am a dragon.”

  “Dragons do not exist where I come from. What happened? How did the orcs capture you?” Once again Tesnayr’s curiosity got the better of him.

  “You are not one of them?”

  “No.”

  “I was resting in this ravine when they chanced upon me. Apparently they have never seen a dragon either. What is your name stranger?”

  “Tesnayr.”

  “And I suppose you want a gift for saving me.”

  Tesnayr’s brow furrowed. “Gift? I want nothing. I was just helping someone in need.” He managed to catch himself before saying the word animal. Silently, he willed his palms to cease sweating.

  The dragon leaned close to Tesnayr staring him in the eyes, studying him. Tesnayr tried not to cough from the putrid breath. The dragon grunted. “You speak the truth.”

  “Is it that surprising?” Tesnayr almost kicked himself for saying that. That dragon could eat him if she wanted to.

  The dragon turned its head toward a pile of marble stone and breathed blue fire on it. Slowly, the stone transformed into a horn.

  “My name is Selexia. I am the queen of the dragons. Take this horn and should you ever need my aid its call will bring me or my dragons to you. From this day forward I bind the dragons in service to you and your descendants until such a time as we are released from that service.
This is my gift to you. Use it wisely.”

  Tesnayr gingerly took the horn into his hands and looked at it as he turned it over in awe. “Thank you,” he said.

  “You are a strange one, Tesnayr. Be certain that your bravery is not a disguise for foolishness.”

  Selexia eyed him one last time before spreading her giant wings and taking off into the blue sky rapidly becoming little more than a speck. Tesnayr stuffed the horn beneath his cloak and dashed back to the others. He arrived just as Nigilin sat up.

  “Good morning,” said Nigilin. “Anything interesting happen while we slept?”

  “No,” replied Tesnayr. He thought it best to keep his encounter with the dragon a secret for the moment. He barely believed it himself. “How much farther?’

  “I suspect we will reach Drynelle by the end of the day.”

  “We best get going then. We’ll eat as we walk.”

  A scuffling noise distracted Tesnayr. Turyn’s tail stuck out of his pack. Tesnayr reached down and pulled Turyn out by his tail. “What are you doing?”

  “Nothing,” replied the cat as he licked his lips.

  “Eating our food, I suppose,” said Nigilin.

  “Was not,” said Turyn.

  Tesnayr leaned over and picked a crumb off of Turyn’s whisker.

  “I wonder how that got there,” said Turyn. His cloak of innocence did not go unnoticed.

  Nigilin knew the land quite well, and as promised they reached Drynelle before sunset. Tesnayr eyed the city, unused to such splendor from his time spent in the simple village by the ocean. The city gleamed from a distance beckoning any to enter. On top of a hill stood the palace where he knew the king must dwell.

  They entered the city gates with a throng of merchants getting ready for a day’s worth of business. The bustle of the city gave little indication of trouble in the outside world. They wound their way through the crowded cobble stone streets. Various merchants hollered at them to buy their items.

  Turyn disappeared. This did not concern Tesnayr as he did not trust the cat. Within an hour, he and Nigilin reached the topmost layer of the city and stood before the palace doors.

  “Remember,” said Nigilin, “Do not lose your temper.”

  Tesnayr and Nigilin were admitted into King Slyamal’s court without delay. They walked respectfully on the hall’s stone floor. Their echoing footsteps bounced off the high ceiling as all eyes rested on them.

  “Step forward,” commanded the guard leading them to a man seated upon the throne. He motioned for them to stop directly in front of the king. “King Slyamal, I present to you two messengers: Nigilin and Tesnayr,” announced the soldier.

  “What is your message?” asked the king.

  “Your majesty,” said Nigilin, kneeling before the king. Tesnayr remained standing. “We bring grave news. Our land has been invaded by conquerors from across the sea. They are vile beasts known as orcs. We believe that they not only intend to conquer Sym’Dul, but its neighboring kingdoms as well.”

  “You believe,” said the king, “And how do you know of their intentions?”

  Nigilin eyed the king uncomfortably. “They have already attacked my home and those of my neighbors without remorse. These orcs must be stopped before too much of our land falls to their control.”

  King Slyamal said nothing at first. He conversed quietly with one of his guards. “I have heard of these orcs, as you call them. The southern lands have already fallen to them. I have dispatched one thousand of my soldiers to stop them. The matter shall be resolved shortly.”

  The king dismissed them, but Tesnayr stood rooted to the ground aghast at what he just heard. King Slyamal’s arrogance stunned him. Pain radiated through his hands as he dug his fingernails into his clenched fists in an effort to control himself. He failed.

  “You fool!” said Tesnayr. “One thousand men will not be enough. They will be slaughtered. You have no idea of what you are up against.”

  “And I suppose you know more on how to fight these orcs,” demanded King Slyamal.

  “I know them. I understand them,” replied Tesnayr, “I have fought the orcs in the past. And I know their leader, Galbrok.”

  “You are not from Sym’Dul,” said the king. “Your speech is different.”

  “I come from across the sea. The orcs destroyed my homeland and they will do the same to yours.”

  “My advisors inform me that these orcs are a rabble of beasts, unorganized at best. They will be dealt with. I have more important matters to attend. The king of Belarnia and I are at war. I have been informed that King Edrei intends to form an alliance with him. The orcs are of no consequence and are a problem easily dealt with.”

  “Of no consequence,” sputtered Tesnayr loudly. His voice, tinged with disbelief, echoed throughout the chamber so all could hear. “Are you mad? Do you not care for your own people?”

  “Tesnayr,” hissed Nigilin.

  “You care more about your petty quarrels and expanding the borders of your kingdom,” shouted Tesnayr, ignoring Nigilin’s warning. “How many men have you sent to their deaths so as to quench your insatiable thirst for more power? In all these years have you ever wondered if all these private wars were worth the cost?”

  “Enough,” yelled King Slyamal, but Tesnayr continued.

  “But now you have a true problem on your hands and you are ill-equipped to deal with it.”

  “Silence!”

  “You are a greedy, arrogant man. You have ruled by selfishness. You and your fellow kings care nothing for the safety of your lands. How much longer will you force your people to suffer until you come to your senses? If you continue this foolishness you will soon be enslaved to the very thing you claim to be a nuisance.”

  “Silence!” thundered the king for a third time. His face had turned a brilliant shade of purple. “You—insolent—how dare you speak to me in such a manner. I am your king—.”

  “You are no king of mine,” shot Tesnayr. “Nor will you ever be! Go ahead and sit on your throne behind your cloak of kingship. You have not learned the nature of true leadership and you never will while you remain encased in this tomb of stone.”

  “You, Tesnayr, are to be held here until I decide what is to be done with you. As for you,” said King Slyamal to Nigilin, “I am appalled that you would travel with such a man. I am certain that you have learned your lesson.”

  “Lesson, yes” said Nigilin. King Slyamal’s dismissal of his message angered him. “Tesnayr is a better man than you. I wore the crest of Sym’Dul and yet you pay me no more attention than that of a common street beggar. Your father would have bestowed upon me the honor I deserve as a soldier.

  “I sacrificed much in the service of your father and that of Sym’Dul. Yet, I was received with no respect. I am saddened to find my service to be in vain and to find the rule of this kingdom taken over by an incompetent fool with the temperament of a mere child. You are not fit to be the son of kings. Your own brother, inept as he was, was a better man than you. At least he died honorably.”

  “Silence the both of you,” raged King Slyamal. “I will teach you to respect your king. Take them away. Let them stew in their disloyalty!”

  Tesnayr smiled as he had the last word. “I thank you for such a delicious meal. We will save a bit of our stew for you because you deserve loyalty from no man.”

  Two guards roughly grabbed Tesnayr and Nigilin and shoved them crudely from the courtroom. They passed a young woman concealed in the shadows. She stared at Tesnayr with a mixture of contempt and wonder.

  The guards pushed them down stone steps and deep within the heart of the palace. Water dripped from the walls the deeper they went. The sounds of the castle faded as they descended to the dungeon. Within minutes they reached the bottom.

  Flickering torches provided the only light in the musty area. Forcefully, the guards thrust them into a tiny cell and slammed the door shut locking it securely. Tesnayr listened as their footsteps faded.

  “I congra
tulate you in not upsetting the king,” said Nigilin jokingly.

  “I do apologize,” said Tesnayr.

  “No need. King Slyamal is a fool. His father would have paid more heed to our message.”

  “Who was that woman,” asked Tesnayr.

  “She is the king’s daughter,” replied Nigilin.

  Tesnayr grunted.

  “Do not judge her by her father’s deeds,” said Nigilin. He looked around the cell. Moss grew on the wall. Hay littered the floor, barely enough to use as bedding. “I guess we ought to get comfortable.”

  Nigilin glanced over at Tesnayr as he tossed in his sleep. Another nightmare. Nigilin was familiar with these fitful sleeps of Tesnayr. He had witnessed many of them since the day he brought the man into his cottage. He wished he could do something to help him. But whatever haunted Tesnayr’s dreams was buried deep within him.

  Nigilin felt the scratches in the stone wall. Since the day they had been locked in the cell, Tesnayr had kept count of the time. One mark for each day. Seven lined the wall.

  Tesnayr squirmed some more in his sleep. Quietly, Nigilin went to him. He put his hand on the man’s chest like he had done on countless occasions. “It’s only a dream, lad,” he whispered. “It’s just a dream.”

  Tesnayr turned on his side. His snores filled the cell. Satisfied, Nigilin flopped down on his small pile of hay. He laid on his back stretching. Slowly, he closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep.

  Up in the dark shadows of the rafters sat Turyn. He had watched the entire episode. He had disappeared for the past several days. He knew that the two men wouldn’t appreciate his absence, but he had a mission.

  With Tesnayr and Nigilin locked up, he could begin spreading the stories about a magnificent warrior who could lead the people against the invading orcs. He knew that no one believed Tesnayr about the orcs. And those who did came to the belief too late.

  Turyn slipped off the rafters and through the bars of the window. He trotted through the empty streets to the city with ease. His black fur blended in with the surroundings allowing him to remain invisible. Raucous laughter pulled him to a building with light spilling out. Turyn padded over. Three off duty guards busied themselves with telling stories and drinking.

  Perfect. Turyn slipped inside and crouched in a corner behind a broom. His yellow eyes remained fixed on the men in the room.

  “Do you think there is any truth to that messenger’s claim about strange beasts?” asked one man.

  “Truth,” slurred another, “He is a madman.”

  “I don’t think so,” said Turyn.

  “Oh you don’t,” said the second man.

  “Don’t what?” challenged the first a bit confused.

  “Many of the villagers have seen strange folk about,” said Turyn throwing his voice.

  “Is that so?” piped up a third guard. “I suppose there have been rumors about farms being burned and livestock disappearing.”

  “So perhaps that messenger was correct.”

  “But if he was, who knows anything about these beasts? Our king believes it is all fanciful imagination.”

  “Tesnayr,” whispered Turyn. “Seek Tesnayr.”

  “Tesnayr,” mused the first man. “Why does that name sound familiar?”

  “It was the messenger’s name,” said the third guard.

  “But he’s locked away in the prison,” said the first man.

  “Bars cannot keep him,” said Turyn.

  “But what if he is waiting for the opportune time to escape?” asked the second man.

  “Opportune?”

  “Everything has its time,” said Turyn.

  “Yes it does,” said the first man. “He may be waiting for people to gain some sense.”

  “If our king does nothing, then Tesnayr will be my commander,” said the third man.

  “That’s treacherous talk,” hushed the second man.

  “Is it?” said Turyn.

  “Is it?” repeated the first man. “Perhaps it’s not. If the orcs are real, then I will stand with whoever fights them. I stand for Sym’Dul.”

  “Then it is settled,” said the second man.

  “For Sym’Dul,” the three said in unison as they clinked their mugs.

  Turyn smiled. He stole out of the room and went out into the cool night. He darted down the streets looking for more like the three men he had just left. Tesnayr would need an army to accomplish what he wants. He may not know it yet, but Turyn knew that Tesnayr would not stop until he defeated the orcs.

  The next morning Tesnayr and Nigilin were led outside. As they walked, Tesnayr noticed a woman standing on a balcony overlooking the city, the same woman he had seen in the king’s court. Captivated by her beauty, he stopped suddenly causing Nigilin to trip over the chains that bound them together and hit the ground hard. Nigilin regained his feet and when he noticed why Tesnayr had stopped he chuckled.

  “I am afraid that she is a bit beyond your reach, my friend,” he said.

  “Keep moving,” growled the guard as he pushed them along.

  “Who is she?” asked Tesnayr.

  The guard laughed when he realized what Tesnayr had been staring at. “Her name is Jenel. Oh, get that idea out of your head, lad, you will never get near the likes of her. She is the king’s daughter.”

  The guard pushed them along.

  Turyn easily found the king in a private chamber with one of his advisors. Their heated voices attracted his attention. He snuck in unnoticed and settled himself in a dark corner. Only the glow of his eyes was visible.

  King Slyamal paced before the roaring fire in the room. “What do you want me to do, Arnin?”

  “Release them. You cannot hold them prisoner. You have no cause to,” replied Arnin. He walked over to the only table in the room and filled a goblet with wine. He sipped the refreshing liquid while hoping that his king would see reason.

  “You heard what he said in there,” stormed King Slyamal.

  “You are a king and such insults should mean nothing to you. Unless, of course, he spoke the truth.”

  “How dare you,” snapped the king.

  “How dare I?” demanded Arnin. “These orcs that he talked about might be a bigger problem than you realize. There are stories about a distant land from far across the sea that has been conquered by beasts matching the description of these orcs.”

  “Rumors and hearsay,” muttered the king, “You should know better than to listen to it.”

  “This is more than hearsay. There are reports from other villages of the same nature as those two messengers.”

  “I sent men.”

  “They are all dead. A messenger arrived an hour ago.”

  “Dead?” said the king in disbelief. He sank into a chair. His face had gone ashen. “What are we to do?”

  “The man you hold prisoner seems to know an awful lot about these beasts.”

  “He can rot there!” spat the king. “That man is nothing but talk.”

  Arnin chucked his goblet into the fire. “For goodness sake man, let go of your pride! Your people are dying! They look to you for help. Who will protect them if not their king?

  “We have lost the southern lands! If this man knows how to defeat these creatures we should ask him to join us before he offers his loyalty elsewhere.”

  “I would prefer the help of a peasant over his,” said King Slyamal letting his anger influence his decision.

  “You are a fool! If you care nothing for your people, think of your daughter. How safe do you think she will be if these beasts conquer Sym’Dul and reach Drynelle?”

  “She’s going away. I’ve made arrangements with the king of Belyndril.”

  “Belyndril,” said Arnin.

  “Yes,” replied King Slyamal. “I have forged a temporary alliance with him. He has promised to allow Jenel to stay there free from harm.”

  “And if Belyndril falls?”

  King Slyamal sipped his wine and said nothing. The thought had occurred to
him, but he pushed the despicable idea away. Belyndril couldn’t fall, he thought, not to some unknown army of beasts.

  Turyn had heard enough and left as quietly as he came. He slunk through the halls and back to the dungeon. The shadows of the night provided excellent cover, but Turyn wasn’t worried about being seen. No one ever paid any attention to a cat.

  “Have many people occupied this cell?” Nigilin asked the guard, formulating a plan. He had had enough of Tesnayr’s waiting. It was time to leave.

  The guard answered lazily as he leaned back in a chair with his feet resting on the table. “No. Normally these cells are empty.”

  “Has anyone ever escaped from here?” Nigilin inquired when he noticed Turyn entering the prison chamber.

  The guard quickly sat up as though an idea had struck him. “It just so happens that a few years ago there were a couple of fellas like yourselves who occupied that very cell.”

  “How did they escape?” asked Tesnayr catching on to Nigilin’s plan.

  “No…I shouldn’t tell you.”

  “I suppose if you do not wish to tell us…but there is nothing to do around here and we would enjoy listening to a good tale,” said Nigilin encouragingly.

  “Very well. I will tell you,” said the guard. “One of them had called me over and I set my keys down like this,” the guard took the ring of keys from around his belt and placed them on the table before walking over to the cell door, “And approached him. Now, these two knew one of those talking cats and while I was busy talking to them, the cat took the keys from the table.”

  As the guard talked, Turyn hopped on to the table and snatched the ring of keys. He padded quietly to the cell unnoticed by the guard. Carefully, he slipped the keys through the bars and skittered away.

  “And then what happened?” asked Nigilin.

  “Well, the cat slipped the keys through the cell bars and I never noticed a thing,” said the guard. “He was one of those strange cats.”

  “Like this?” inquired Tesnayr as he picked up the keys and dangled them in his hand.

  “Yes,” replied the guard.

  “Then what happened?” Nigilin asked again.

  “After that,” said the guard,” I moved over to this suit of armor like this and that cat of theirs was sitting on top of it. After which he knocked the thing on my head. When I came to, the cell was empty and the captain was furious.”

  “What is that cat doing up there?” asked Tesnayr pointing at the suit of armor.

  The guard slowly realized what had happened and glanced up at the armor. On top of it sat Turyn.

  “Meow.”

  The guard mouthed the words “oh no” as Turyn leaped off the armor causing the entire thing to come crashing down on his head. Tesnayr quickly unlocked the cell door. He and Nigilin grabbed their things and placed the keys back on the table.

  “Some people never learn,” said Turyn as they all left the prison chamber.

  Tesnayr’s mental map of the palace enabled them to navigate the castle. The three moved swiftly through the stone corridors. Water splashed as their boots crashed into the various puddles. Guided by torchlight, they hurried onward desperate to reach the outside before the alarm was raised. Turyn peeked around corners to make certain that no guards lingered about while following Tesnayr’s instruction on which corner to turn next.

  Upon reaching the stairs, Tesnayr stopped. He listened intently for sounds of guards. Nothing. Carefully, he and the others crept up the steps clinging to the moist stone wall. Most of the stairwell lay in shadow and provided excellent cover. But that did little to ease Tesnayr’s nerves. At any moment they could be discovered.

  The three had made it through the castle unchallenged, a feat that made Tesnayr wary. By now someone should have noticed their escape. As they neared the door that led to the outside world, Tesnayr’s suspicions were proven correct. Blocking the doorway stood a man in a dark cloak brandishing a sword. Turyn recognized him immediately as the one that had been talking to the king earlier.

  “Move aside,” commanded Tesnayr.

  The man stood his ground.

  “We do not wish to fight you,” said Tesnayr.

  “Strange words for a man who has just escaped the prison chamber,” said the man.

  “What do you want?” demanded Nigilin.

  The man lowered his sword. “I will let you pass on one condition: you take me with you.”

  “Impossible,” snapped Tesnayr.

  Nigilin hushed him. “Why do you wish to come? You are finely dressed. Are you not one of the king’s advisors?”

  “I am,” replied the man. “King Slyamal blames his advisors for his foolishness. I wish to join you. I will not remain here.”

  “I believe him,” said Turyn.

  “You have a name stranger,” said Tesnayr.

  “Arnin.”

  “Well, Arnin,” Tesnayr continued, “We need horses.”

  Arnin smiled. He led them through the door where three horses stood saddled and ready for travel. Arnin tossed them each a cloak that bore the king’s crest. “These will allow us to pass through the gates unchecked,” he explained.

  Tesnayr and Nigilin had little choice but to put them on. They leapt on the stallions and trotted through the city streets. Arnin led the way through Drynelle. Pedestrians jumped out of the way of what they believed to be an envoy of the king.

  Upon reaching the city gates a guard halted them. “Who goes there?”

  “It is I, Arnin, and two messengers of the king,” replied Arnin in an authoritative voice.

  The guard approached taking note of the emblem on each of their cloaks. He waved them through.

  They galloped through the gates and away into the moonless night. Arnin led them to a place far away from Drynelle well secluded by rocks and trees. They rode for a night and a day without stopping, not even to rest.

  “Why were you waiting for us?” Tesnayr finally broke a day’s worth of silence as they huddled by a fire.

  “I was on my way to free you two, when I noticed that you had done it yourselves,” replied Arnin. “What are your plans?”

  “I have none,” said Tesnayr.

  “Might I suggest that we keep moving,” said Arnin, “There is a pass a few days’ ride from here that leads through the mountains into Belyndril. We could go—”

  Nigilin cleared his throat interrupting Arnin. He detested the idea of running. “We should head south.”

  “I heard some soldiers talking in a nearby town. Belarnia is attempting to mount a defense against them. The orcs have already moved north and have begun to spread eastward,” Turyn interjected.

  “South?” said Arnin.

  “Yes,” said Nigilin, “Instead of running or waiting for the orcs to catch us, we should face them. We can gather people along the way who feel as we do.”

  “Are you insane? We should head to Belyndril and ask the king there for help. Warn him about the orcs,” argued Arnin.

  “Tell me, Arnin,” said Tesnayr, “How do we know that you will not betray us the same way you have betrayed your king?”

  “You asked me that question last night.”

  “I am asking you again!”

  Arnin looked into Tesnayr’s eyes. Something in Tesnayr’s expression forced him to choose his words carefully. “As I have said, King Slyamal is a fool more concerned about his treasury than his people. When a king ceases to put the well-being of his people before himself, when he ceases to lead and govern justly, he no longer deserves to be king, nor does he deserve the loyalty of his people. The people will find another who is wise and just and they would be right to do so. People will only suffer fools for so long.”

  “Some longer than others,” Nigilin chimed in, moving away from his place near the fire.

  “And some are just fools,” uttered Turyn.

  “When I became part of the king’s council,” Arnin continued, “I swore an oath to serve him. But when he carelessly sent those men to their de
aths I knew then that I could no longer abide by that oath. I refuse to serve a man who recklessly does what he wills with little regard of the consequences. If you, Tesnayr, wish to go after these orcs, I will go with you.”

  “Admirable,” said Turyn. No one paid him any attention.

  Tesnayr looked at his hand as though he held a sword in it. “I have tried running from my past, but it will not release me,” he said to himself before speaking aloud. “The orcs destroyed my home. They murdered the woman I was to marry. They have destroyed any chance of any happiness I might have had. I go after them for one reason: vengeance. I do not ask you to join me.”

  “Vengeance is a convenient bandage for one’s wounds,” Turyn said aloud.

  Nigilin stepped forward. “Perhaps. I will do what I can to protect my home.”

  Once again Turyn piped up. “Noble.”

  “I thought you were a leader of men,” said Arnin to Tesnayr.

  “I am no leader,” replied Tesnayr, “But if you remain with us, you will be given the chance to fight the orcs and protect your people.”

  “Kill the beasts!” Turyn blurted out. The others ignored him.

  “Very well,” said Arnin.

  “We leave at dawn,” Tesnayr told the others.

  “Must it be so early?” chimed Turyn.

  “Must you always toss in your two pieces of silver,” said Nigilin to the cat.

  “Cats always do and I am a cat,” replied Turyn.

  “If you give me that cat business once more, I swear I will filet you alive,” grumbled Tesnayr.

  Turyn pranced over to Tesnayr and casually stretched as he brushed the man’s chin with his tail. “Meow,” he said and bounded away.

  Arnin and Nigilin unsuccessfully suppressed their smirks as Tesnayr’s knuckles turned white from frustration.