Princess interrupted, p.6
Princess Interrupted, page 6
part #1 of Prophecies Series
Clouds of dust exploded out of the hole as the screams reverberated through the clearing, and then silence fell.
Kirag walked to the edge of the hole with the rest of the men. The most oblivious of the soldiers were impaled on sharpened wooden stakes that gleamed with fresh red blood.
He nodded. “Remember what I said. Vigilance. If you aren’t looking for things out of the ordinary, if you trust you are safe, you will die.”
Kirag led the troops around the trap as a collection of black-clad Talons trotted toward them. The Talon who ran ahead led this training camp. He had a pair of obsidian daggers tucked in his leathers and wore the necklace with the hourglass symbol of Azazel’s insignia.
The Talon halted before Kirag and saluted. “Lord Kirag, welcome to the training camp— ”
“I am not lord anything, fool, and don’t forget it. It’s Kirag, or sir. Next time you call me Lord I’ll test out your daggers on your hide.”
The soldier blanched. “Yes, sir!”
“Your name is Glendale, correct?”
“Yes, sir!”
“I’ve brought you some new Grubs to train. After today’s training, I’ll have a special mission for the Grub who proves himself. You and I will talk first thing tomorrow morning. I want to hear what you think about these Grubs and get your recommendations.”
Glendale saluted. “Yes, Kirag! I will put them through their paces!”
“They are yours to do with as you will, I’ll be back in the morning for our talk.”
Glendale turned to the soldiers and yelled, “Gather up! You will address me as ‘sir’. You don’t get to call anyone of rank by their name. Forgetting yourself will earn you ten lashes.” The Grubs looked at each other nervously as Glendale continued. “Trust me, you Grubs will remember the rules as I drill them into you or you’ll pay with your hide.”
Kirag nodded toward Glendale and turned to scout out tomorrow’s path. As he ran toward the far end of the clearing, he heard Glendale yell, “You have lots of bleeding to do before you die or qualify to wear your leathers. Get moving!”
He walked through the pre-dawn mist that hugged the ground and carefully avoided the traps on the approach to the camp. It was a couple of hours ahead of the rising of the sun and he noticed one of the Talons perched mid-way up the cliff on a platform. The soldier nodded at his superior as he noticed Kirag’s cautious intrusion on the camp.
As he approached Glendale’s tent, Kirag heard the trainer’s voice come from within. “Sir, I can hear your approach.”
He grinned.
Good, he’s paying attention.
“Glendale, if you weren’t alert, I might have entered your tent and slit your throat.”
The soldier lifted the flap of his tent and waved him in.
Kirag chuckled. “I suppose the throat slitting will have to wait. Let’s talk about the Grubs.”
He settled himself on the floor of the tent as Glendale struck flint on steel and lit a small fire. Glendale sat cross-legged on the other side of the fire. “What would you like to know, sir? They are undisciplined, and out of shape, but most of them have some promise and should survive the training.”
Kirag scratched at his freshly shaved face. “You said most of them. I presume that means one or more of them are likely not trainable. Correct?”
Glendale looked worried and nodded his head.
“No concern. I need a Grub today that you don’t mind losing. An untrainable would be fine for that.”
A smile crept across Glendale’s face. “Garog. He’s large and strong, but stupid. I don’t believe he can be trusted as a Talon, and I would never want him in my Duo.”
“Garog it is. Lead me to him.”
Glendale led Kirag through the midst of the Grubs, left to sleep as they could on the bare ground. As they approached, the men scrambled out of the way, clearing the sleep from their eyes.
At the far end of the encampment, a relatively large muscular human snored, oblivious to his approaching visitors.
Glendale kicked Garog’s feet. “Wake up, Grub!” The soldier quickly jumped from his sleeping position, banged his head on the wagon he’d slept beneath and looked at the two men standing over him with a dazed look in his eyes.
Glendale snapped his fingers to grab Garog’s attention. “Kirag has a special mission, and you’ve been chosen to participate.”
Garog stared at Kirag with some trepidation. “Yes s-sir.”
Kirag looked the man up and down. “You are dressed adequately; you will not need anything else for this mission. Follow me.” Kirag turned and walked through the camp toward the clearing without looking to see if he was being followed. He heard Garog’s clumsy scrambling as he attempted to keep pace with his leader, stumbling through the early morning fog.
Time to visit mother.
As daylight broke through the clouds near the horizon, Garog was huffing behind him on a treacherous trail etched into the side of a cliff. He was familiar with this path as it was the path that Kirag had ran up and down thousands of times in his youth. Unlike the humans or dwarves who liked to congregate in cities, his mother was much more ogre-like in her preference for solitude.
Considering his mother’s tendency toward unpredictable violence, this solitude was safer for everyone. He’d always known to avoid her unless it was time to sleep or have a meal. This wasn’t so unusual for ogre families. Kirag had grown up instinctively knowing that he was supposed to avoid larger ogres that weren’t in his tribe.
Unfortunately, his mother refused to be a part of other ogre tribes. She spent much of the day muttering to herself or talking to creatures that he couldn’t see and was fairly certain weren’t there. Other ogres avoided Kirag’s mother. Even they thought she was crazy.
No matter how large Kirag had become, risking his mother’s fury always put him on edge. Azazel had given him a practically impossible task. How am I to find strangers who could be anywhere in Trimoria? He knew nothing about them, what they might look like, how many they were, or where to search. His mother had an uncanny skill which allowed her to see events that hadn’t yet occurred.
The problem he had, and the reason he was bringing the Grub, was that she rarely entered one of her trances without having exerted herself in some extremely violent manner.
Kirag remembered during one lonely moment of his childhood, he asked Mother if he could have any brothers or sisters. She became incensed and yelled about traitorous children. He was beaten to within a glimmer of unconsciousness before she stopped and fell into a stupor. As he’d wiped the blood that poured from his nose, and asked her what was wrong, Kirag realized her mind was only partially aware of him. That was the moment he learned of her strange powers, and in truth, he didn’t believe Mother even knew she was capable of such things.
Kirag crested the cliff and he saw in the distance the all-too-familiar cave that served as his childhood home. He sniffed and knew his mother was inside. It was rare that she would be hunting at this time in the morning.
Garog grunted behind Kirag and the giant enforcer turned to watch as the Grub dragged himself to the top of the cliff, disgust turning Kirag’s stomach. This large human, stronger than most, was clearly exhausted. He bled from several deep gashes on his head, and looked utterly bedraggled.
Kirag impatiently waved the Grub towards him with one hand while holding a finger to his lips in a sign to remain silent.
Garog crept toward him and Kirag whispered, “I lived in that cave as a child.” Garog squinted at the cave and looked at Azazel’s enforcer stupidly. “Within that cave is a chest that has a special weapon. It is in the deepest section of the cave and I don’t believe I can squeeze into that section anymore. Go in there and drag that chest out here.”
A gleam of greed flashed across Garog’s face and he nodded with a sly smile.
Garog looked around and found a stick, tied a cloth around its end and lit it with some flint and steel. After a few sputtering sparks, the cloth caught fire and Garog held his torch aloft as he crossed the clearing and entered the cave.
Kirag strolled after him and waited outside. It was within seconds that he heard Garog’s yell and heard his mother’s familiar bellow. He entered the cave just as the torch went out and heard the last gurgling breaths of Garog coupled with ripping noises.
His eyes quickly adjusted to the darkness and Kirag saw his mother and what remained of Garog. Parts of him had been ripped apart, and mother was crouched over the largest part unmoving. As he approached, she remained still, with lips moving and her eyes darted back and forth spasmodically.
It had worked.
“Mother, Azazel has asked me to find strangers who don’t belong in Trimoria. Where do I look for these strangers?”
Mother’s eyes closed, and spittle frothed and dripped from her lips. Her body swayed without uttering a sound. As the swaying continued, an odd light emanated from her and she paused. She froze mid-sway and her eyelids blinked rapidly and she looked up. “Trouble from the Imazighen.”
After another moment of swaying, the light brightened around her again and she stiffened. “The elves,” she growled. “The elves are trouble.”
The swaying continued and the light around her brightened with an eerie sparkling effect. “The swamp. Trouble from the swamp.”
The light dimmed and disappeared. The inky blackness blanketed the cave, and mother shivered and collapsed on the ground. Moments later, a grinding snore reverberated from her as she slept amidst the offal.
Kirag stared at his mother for a long moment as she slept and he crept from the cave.
As he climbed down the cliff, he felt confident that he at least had a direction in which to look for these strangers.
Arabelle
Chapter Five
Learning Elven Secrets
“This human child Arabelle is going to be armed with many elven secrets. I just hope she doesn’t disappoint me. It would be a shame if I had to kill her.”
Castien
Arabelle wore a billowing robe that was several sizes too large and kept her hood raised as she was escorted to Maggie’s tent. Her handmaid was stitching some of the silks she’d bought for her mistress earlier.
Maggie looked up and a broad smile crossed her face. “Oh Princess! I found some superb material today. I should be able to finish a couple of new dresses for you by the end of the week.”
Arabelle gave her friend a knowing smile. “Did you find Hassan?”
Maggie’s face blushed brightly as she sputtered. “Hassan? What do you know about him?” Maggie looked crestfallen. “Oh, you aren’t looking at him too, are you? Do you think your father would approve?”
The princess snorted with laughter as she shook her head. “No Maggie, I don’t particularly care for Hassan. However, I think if you are seeking him out, you might have some competition. It seems like lots of the girls have their eyes on him.”
Maggie giggled and leaned closer. “I know, but I have an advantage.”
Arabelle’s curiosity was piqued. “Oh? What advantage?”
“I overheard Hassan in the market today haggling with a weaponsmith about needing a belt with a proper sheath for his staff. Evidently Hassan is having trouble finding anyone who can create a sheath for it, especially since so few people regularly wield a staff as a weapon.” Maggie put down the silks she’d been working on and scrambled to the chest at the foot of her bed. She dug through the chest and retrieved some boiled leather strips that had been carefully woven into what looked like a belt with a tubular sheath attached to it. Maggie proudly showed Arabelle how the belt wound around her waist and demonstrated how the sheath had an inner lining of silk to prevent the staff from getting stuck. “I’ve been saving these leather pieces and scraps of silk for a special project, and I was able to quickly put some of my weaving to good use. If I present him with something that nobody else has, he must look at me favorably, wouldn’t you think?”
She couldn’t fault Maggie’s logic, but attracting boys was never something Arabelle had spent much time concentrating on. She smiled and nodded. “I think so, but Maggie – I need to talk to you about something very important.”
Arabelle sat cross-legged across from Maggie and held her confidante’s hands. “Maggie, you need to swear on your life and honor that you will tell nobody about this.”
Maggie looked at her questioningly and nodded. “I swear, Lady Arabelle. I will never betray your confidence.”
She paused, worrying about letting this secret out. “You cannot even tell my father. You must take this secret to the grave. Lives are at stake. Do you understand?”
Her faithful handmaiden started to look worried, but nodded her agreement. “I swear upon all that I hold sacred that I will keep what is said tonight secret, and will never again mention it to any living soul.”
Arabelle’s level of anxiety lessened and she began telling her story. Maggie gasped with shock as she whispered about the attack from the poisonous dragon. As the princess shushed her, Arabelle removed the large robe she’d been wearing and lifted her blouse to show her the odd-shaped mark on her ribs. Maggie’s tears flowed silently as she stared at the princess’s bruised and mottled skin. She looked up from the wound and was about to ask questions when Arabelle put her fingers over Maggie’s lips and shook her head.
My poor emotional friend, she didn’t even know the worst part yet.
The princess told Maggie about her encounter with the elves, what she learned about the poison, and what she was going to have to do to survive. “Maggie, I’ll need your help to keep this from my father and Tabor. While the caravan is outside of Aubgherle, I need to learn some things from the elves. Neither my father nor Tabor would ever allow me to travel to the woods alone. I’ve arranged to meet the elf who will teach me how to live with this poison at midnight tonight.”
Maggie whispered, “Lady, I will do what I can, but how can we possibly get you to visit the elves unseen?”
“I can’t visit the elves unseen, but you can.”
She stared, perplexed. “I don’t understand.”
Arabelle grinned as she handed her the robes she’d worn. “If you leave wearing my robes, and sleep in my tent tonight, nobody will know when I leave the camp. I can borrow one of your traveling cloaks and go without anybody knowing what’s going on.”
Maggie looked at the robes that were in her hands and she shook her head. “What if Tabor asks me a question on the way to the tent? I can’t exactly pretend to be a mute can I?”
Arabelle grabbed the robes from Maggie’s lap, and slipped them back on. “Call Tabor and tell him I have a sore throat and need a honeyed tea to soothe it. Watch and learn my friend.”
Maggie smiled and called the princess’s guardian. Tabor poked his grizzled face into the tent and grunted when he heard the request. He turned and called out, “Ahmed, fetch a honeyed tea for the Princess.”
Arabelle whispered in Maggie’s ear and smiled at Tabor as Maggie announced, “Lady Arabelle shouldn’t speak anymore tonight. After she enjoys her tea, can you please escort her back to her tent?”
Tabor ignored the request as the tea arrived. He carefully poured the tea into a mug and handed it to his princess. He looked at Arabelle and softly said, “Princess, when you’re ready, I’ll be waiting to escort you to your tent.” Tabor looked at Maggie and nodded. “Good evening, Maggie.” He pulled his head out of the tent, Arabelle smiled at Maggie triumphantly and began removing her robe.
Moments later, Arabelle snuggled into Maggie’s bed and remained under the covers as she, wearing the princess’s robes, exited and was presumably escorted to Arabelle’s tent without further incident.
Arabelle grew anxious as she counted backwards from one thousand, giving Maggie plenty of time to be escorted to her tent and hoping that anything that might have gone wrong would have. She was still worried when first stepping from Maggie’s tent, but as Arabelle had predicted, nobody was watching. She was soon sneaking through the outskirts of the caravan and into the farmlands that bordered the woods.
She wasn’t exactly sure where on the edge of the forest she was going to meet Castien. There were many miles of forest that bordered the farmlands. And especially since the ground had been covered by a thick mist earlier in the day, Arabelle couldn’t remember exactly where she’d parted from the elven sword master. As she pondered the problem of finding the elf, she noticed a rabbit hopping through the rows of corn growing in the field.
Then Arabelle noticed what looked like a rat burrowing under the…wait! She shouldn’t be able to see these creatures. The moon hadn’t yet risen, and it was very dark. Yet she was able to see the outlines of animals with ease despite the darkness. She watched the rat burrowing under the field and gasped as Arabelle realized she was watching him through the ground. Excitement coursed through her body as she recalled her conversation with the mysterious Seder.
When you awake, you will be able to find any living creature you envision…
Could this be part of what Seder meant? It seemed like she could see the outlines of nearby things at night better than she could even during the daytime. Arabelle studied her surroundings and thought of Castien. She recalled the distinct cut of his jaw, and the shape of his ears and she suddenly sensed him. Instead of seeing him, Arabelle turned to the left and somehow knew that he was in that direction.
Arabelle began to jog that way, and the feeling of Castien became stronger as she approached the outer edge of the woods. She walked slowly into the trees, ignoring the myriad of animals that she sensed everywhere, and soon it felt like Arabelle could almost hear Castien’s heartbeat.
Her senses screamed in confusion. She knew he was right there. Arabelle looked up and saw the smiling elf staring down at her.
“Good. You have a strong woods sense. I am quite surprised to find that in a human. Especially one as young as yourself.”
