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  Everyone stood and clasped their arms together as they all said in unison, “We are thankful to our King for this victory.”

  The general added, “We seek wisdom on what course to follow next and the courage to follow it through.”

  Their upturned faces puzzled her. Who were they talking to? Then an amazing thing happened; the walls of the tent began to sparkle with a glistening light which moved about like dust particles in a sunbeam.

  Marcel finished with, “We thank you for the chance to give aid to your lost children. We thank you for the ability to re-take what was rightfully yours from the start.”

  She blinked her eyes tightly shut, wondering if lights weren’t all in her head. Maybe she was coming down with something. Then a warm breezed caressed her cheek and ruffled her hair. Goosebumps flowed up her arms and down her back, yet she felt comforted, not frightened. Since nobody else seemed to notice the dancing lights, she kept it to herself.

  Everyone returned to his or her seat. First item up for discussion was the actual battle. The warrior to Marcel’s right stood and reported only a handful of warriors suffered minor injuries. One serious but stable and resting in the medic tent. The enemy soldiers that hadn’t fled before the charge were engaged and killed. Bodies had been burned, and the plunder collected. They would disperse the items to the neighboring towns as needed.

  Marcel nodded when the speaker took his seat.

  “So, Jerin of Yarholm, if you’ll please stand and tell us about the condition of your town?”

  Jerin gave his report, ending with, “this is why I’ve asked to be trained here, with all of you. Then I can go back and clear away the pest.” He sat heavily, nearly tumbling off his cushion, before quickly righting himself. Redness crept up his neck.

  “You wish to attempt this on your own?”

  “If that’s what it takes, sir.” Jerin shrugged, still keeping focused on the lantern in front of him, his square-shaped jaw set in a firm line.

  Marcel’s thick brows arched as his steely eyes bore intently on the large boy. Jerin seemed unwilling to meet the general’s stare. Princess wondered why.

  “Is this your calling, son? Do you possess the medallion of a warrior?”

  Jerin shook his head. “No, sir. I’ve not journeyed to Aloblase, yet.”

  “Yet? Have you been asked to go before?” General Marcel rested his chin on the tips of his fingers.

  “Yes.” The flush tingeing his neck red began to flow up toward his temples.

  “And the reason you did not?”

  “A group from my town was planning to travel together. They could never agree on a time to leave.” The large boy avoided the stares of the others gathered around the table.

  Jerin squirmed on his cushion, twisting the slingshot between his hands. Her heart went out to him, being drilled like this. Sweat beaded along the back of her neck, wondering how they’d treat her when she spoke.

  “So why not make the trip yourself?” Marcel dug, though his voice remained gentle. She didn’t feel he was being overly harsh with Jerin. More than anything, she feared how she’d handle herself when her time came. Knowing her propensity for rash words and ill behavior, she slouched lower, wishing she could somehow disappear.

  Jerin closed his eyes and lowered his head. “I guess…sir…to be honest, everything was going good. I didn’t see the need to go.”

  A low murmuring went around the table, as some shook their heads.

  Marcel leaned forward on his elbows and asked Jerin, “What say you now, son? How would you feel about receiving your training in Aloblase? That is where we all received our knowledge.”

  Jerin sighed, his fist tightening around his small weapon. “General, I truly desire to meet King Shaydon. My greatest dream has always been to go there. Someday. But right now, Yarholm needs me. I know I can fight. I’m good at it.”

  Princess had to nod in agreement after seeing how he handled the Okbolds.

  “I see,” replied Marcel. He took in a deep breath and sat quietly for a minute. Finally he said, “I will give my decision after all have had a chance to speak.” He asked a few more questions concerning how many in Yarholm had made the trip to Aloblase, what was the state of the township, and if there had been other enemy presence.

  “Aside from the trolls that invaded us some years back, there’s been no other Racan disturbances until the Dark Lord’s soldiers came looking for her.”

  His foot nudged her from beneath the table. Her gut lurched.

  “We managed to escape,” He added, his voice taking on that growl she’d started to grow accustomed to. “She had promised to lead me to you, and I promised to help her find the White Road. It is her desire to meet the King.”

  “I see.” General Marcel’s gaze now turned to Princess. Instead of the stern look he’d given Jerin, he actually smiled. “Tell me, child, how you came to meet up with young Jerin here. I’ve heard part, but I wish to hear your version of whole story.”

  Princess swallowed down a fist-sized lump of nervousness clogging her throat. Would they believe her? More importantly, would they still want to help if they did?

  General’s kind, gray eyes held the same calm confidence that had emboldened her to stand up to Bezoar.

  Clearing the apprehension from her throat, she determined to be as honest as possible with the General and take her chances. “Darnel tried to convince me that I was his daughter. That I’d always been in Racah. Yet,” she pulled out the chain with the two medallions linked together. Several sharp gasps sounded around the table. Carah leaned forward, eyes narrowed as she studied the disks more closely.

  “I knew I came from somewhere else. I’ve always had these dreams, about a city. A beautiful city. Master tried to get me to accept his ways. But those dreams, I…” she shook her head, staring into the depths of one of the burning candles. She snorted a derisive laugh. “He thoughts sending me to work in the dungeons would finally break me. But I preferred cleaning cells and sleeping on a pile of hay. Finally, I didn’t have to see Master every day. The cold and dirt was worth it.”

  Ben, despite his temper, treated her well enough as long as she did most of the chores for him. At first, he was ordered to lock her in the cell where they’d kept Dean. Then, seeing an opportunity to ease his burden, Ben talked Master into letting her work for him, promising to whip her into shape.

  “I had bits of time to search the tunnels for a means of escape. I’m not sure there is such a tunnel, but I’ve heard some have actually made it down the mountainside.”

  She thought about Tarek again, worry poking her heart. Did Master know he helped her escape? Would he kill him if he did?

  Carah’s eyes widened. “You’ve traveled through the secret places of the dark lands?”

  “Well, yeah. Tunnels run all throughout the mountains.”

  “Sir, did you—"

  He held up his hands to stop her. “Yes, Carah, I’m sitting right here as you can see.” This brought a round of chuckles.

  “What I wish to know, daughter, is why you finally decided to escape?”

  Princess twirled the medallions between her fingers. “Because of Dean the messenger. He knew... me.” She grasped his medallion and held up. “He was captured and brought in with a group of prisoners. He called Darnel an imposter, a liar.” The disk blurred. “Master was going to kill him, but I suggested the dragon.” Her voice cracked. “We made a deal. I would help him escape, and he would take me to Aloblase.”

  She dared a look at Marcel to find tears pouring down his cheeks. Hers let loose as well.

  “Please understand, General. The dragon had to keep us from escaping. Not because she was evil. Darnel would hurt her if anyone got past her. Dean... he went back to fight her, to give me a chance to escape.”

  Marcel nodded. “Dean traveled with us for awhile, then struck off on his own. He was to seek out towns in need of aid and send word for us to come. How did you obtain his medallion, child?”

  Princes
s took in a ragged breath, her voice clogged on the emotions gathering in her chest. She stared at the gold disk, unable to take the General’s pained expression. “Before... for some reason, he gave me his pack and asked me to make sure I returned his medallion to King Shaydon. I’m afraid, for some stupid reason, he made a decision to sacri—” She couldn’t say the word, sacrifice. Shame glued her mouth. He had no idea she wasn’t worth what he did.

  Everyone remained silent for a long moment. Focusing past the medallions, Princess saw Jerin’s face set in a scowl. Was it from her not telling him the whole truth? Perhaps he believed what Bezoar had said about her.

  “General,” Carah whispered. “Could she be the one? The light that will come out of dark?”

  General Marcel cleared his throat and gave Carah a warning look. “Finish your story, daughter.”

  Princess described her escape with Crystal and how she ended up meeting Jerin in Yarholm. “Despite what he says about Dez, the creature helped me when I was lost.”

  “Then he went and ratted you out to the enemy soldiers,” added Jerin with a smirk. “Some friend.”

  “I didn’t say—”

  General stood, wiping a sleeve across his face. “Very well.” He interrupted. “Does anyone have anything to add?”

  Carah’s hand shot into the air. “What about her medallion? What about the prophecy? Her knowledge of Racah? It all seems to fit, doesn’t it?”

  “Does anyone have anything else to add, besides that?”

  “General!” protested Carah.

  Jerin sided with the maiden warrior. “I’m interested in this thing about her medallion, sir. Who’s to say she didn’t steal them?”

  Princess glared at him.

  “Or find...perhaps?” He added hastily.

  “I’m not a thief!” Princess stood, banging the table with her fist. “I know little of my past. Not where I came from, or what my real name is. I do remember a witch taking me to Darnel and selling me for some coins. And I know,” she clutched the medallion with the flame burst. “This has always been with me, and I’ve always felt the need to keep it hidden. And I did. All those years, I kept it a secret.”

  She turned to General Marcel. “I doubt there’s any prophesy about someone like me. Bezoar’s description of me is basically true. I cause trouble for everyone.” Tarek, Ben, Dean… and no telling how many others. “I don’t get what the fuss is about. I’m nothing but a Racan slave, sir. I just want to get away from Darnel, as far away as possible.”

  “Daughter,” Marcel asked. “Do you know the meaning of the emblem on your medallion?”

  “No sir.” She grasped the chain and stared down at the flame.

  He nodded. “Do you remember your age when you entered Racah?”

  She shrugged. “Five, maybe six. I can’t recall much except looking for something…or someone. I don’t know, sir.”

  He leaned in closer to her and held out the pendant hanging around his own neck. Two swords crossed over a tree on his.

  “Each of us carries a medallion according to our purpose, or what our natural talents incline us to do in this life. As you see, Dean’s has a trumpet on his signifying he had an ability to trumpet the truth, so to speak. He was a messenger, gifted with persuasive speech. He called people to listen to the truth, wherever he went. There are many types of messengers. Some of us, you may notice, have different kinds of weaponry, and some have weaponry with instruments or other objects. There are many types of warriors, too.”

  He gestured toward the maiden warrior. “Carah can frighten the enemy with her rebel call.” Several people laughed, nodding in agreement. Carah clutched her own medallion, which Princess realized also had a trumpet loaded like an arrow in a bowstring.

  Now he looked each warrior sitting around the table in the eye. “The important point, my friends, is that only King Shaydon can tell a person what his or her purpose in the kingdom is.” To this, they also nodded their affirmation, each most likely having stood before the king at one time or another. Marcel’s gaze paused on Jerin for a long moment, before he turned back to her.

  “At some point in your life, daughter, you met King Shaydon and he’s told you of your purpose. However, in an attempt to control you, Darnel blocked those memories from your mind. I have no doubt, my dear child, that as you get closer Aloblase, your memories will return and you’ll remember what you are meant to do. It is not up to us, or up to any prophecy to dictate that to you.

  “So I find it imperative we get you on the White Road, and you can begin your journey home.”

  Home? She liked the sound of that. Maybe she still had a real family somewhere and the King could help her find them.

  “As for our young warrior friend, Jerin. I’ve decided that we will go to your town and assist the people in ridding themselves of these Okbolds.”

  Jerin sat up, face lit with excitement. “Oh, sir, I…it’s more than I expected. How can I thank you?” He looked at Princess and grinned before adding, “I am in your debt, General. I’ll work hard to learn from all of you.”

  The General let out a long breath. His gaze met Carah’s and they seemed to have some sort of understanding. “Your training will not come from us, son. I believe the best course for you and your town will be for you to go on to Aloblase with the girl child.”

  His grin drooped as the color drained from his block-shaped face. “But, sir....”

  Everyone rose and followed the General from the tent as he issued orders for departure.

  Only Princess heard Jerin’s last whispered words.

  “I can’t possibly go with...her.”

  Chapter 12

  The carriage rolled along quietly beneath the midday sun. Princess shifted her achy legs, her body moving like stiff cloth. The effects of her escape and long walk had finally taken its toll. Strange how only three nights had passed since leaving Racah. She closed her eyes and gave in to the swaying of the transport, not wanting to think about the distance remaining.

  Jerin slumped next to her, quiet and sullen. Across from them sat Carah, who continually watched the dense forest outside the curtained window, her slender fingers running over the string on her bow.

  Beside the maiden warrior, General Marcel attempted to make notes in a journal, despite the bumps and jolts. He tapped the graphite rod on the page twice before closing the cover. For a moment, Princess swore the letters actually lit up. He slipped the book in his shoulder bag, giving her a wink.

  Marcel turned to Jerin. “I will get word to your father of your decision to journey to Aloblase. Do not worry, son. He will be well taken care of in your absence. I swear upon my honor.”

  Jerin shifted in his seat and despite any misgivings said, “I’m grateful for your word, sir.”

  Carah turned to him with a warm smile. “You will learn from the best, Jerin.” She leaned in closer and rested her hand on his arm which caused his cheeks to turn crimson. “I trained at the academy, too, and plan to return next season. I know you’ll love it. I’ll be eager to hear the stories of your travels when I get back.”

  The bright flush crept over his forehead and ears. Princess realized he’d grown very fond of the maiden warrior. Perhaps that was part of the reason he didn’t want to leave.

  Marcel interjected, “Traveling to Aloblase is the wisest course of action for you, Jerin. Even though you desire to be a warrior, it may not be the King’s desire for you.”

  “But sir…” Jerin protested.

  “Besides, the girl-child will need someone along to help her.”

  “No I don’t.” Princess retorted. “I’ve done fine on my own.”

  Jerin snorted a laugh. “Like when you picked DezPierre to be your guide.”

  “I didn’t pick—!”

  “The decision has been made.” General Marcel held up both hands to stop their bickering. The carriage jolted to a halt. “You two can settle your differences on the road.” He opened the door on his side and stepped out.

  Car
ah gave his arm a gentle squeeze. “Of course, you have the choice to completely reject the General’s suggestion and do whatever you want.” She opened the opposite door and climbed down. “Though I’ve never seen such choices turn out well. Still it’s yours to make.”

  Princess waited a moment, watching Jerin, who remained slouched in his seat with a look of utter bewilderment. She shook her head and left him to work out his thoughts. Though it would be nice to have a traveling companion, she didn’t need a babysitter. And she didn’t need anyone along who didn’t want to be there in the first place.

  Several warriors surrounded the carriage. Upon the General’s orders, they dispersed and faded into the woods to scout the area.

  The troop had stopped at a wide-lane crossroad. She wondered which of the four roads led to Aloblase.

  Jerin handed down the packs from the top of the transport.

  Carah helped her with the backpack. “We’ve stocked you with jerky and wafers. Should last about a week. As you travel, gather food growing along the highway. You can refill your canteens from the springs you will pass. Be careful which you fill from though. Be sure the steams run from the east.”

  Then Carah cupped Princess’s face in her hands. “May you stay safe on your journey and may you find allies during your travels. Take care and remain on the path. Help will be found when you need it, for such is the way.” She gave her a quick hug. “Until we meet again.”

  “I hope we do.” Princess wished she had more time with Carah.

  Would they have been friends? She seemed goodhearted and level-headed. Why couldn’t she come along on the journey with her instead of that obstinate warrior-wanna-be?

  Jerin joined them, shoulders slouched and his mouth turned down in unhappy resolve. Carah handed him the food pack and whispered something that caused him to smile before she went to stand by the general.

  Princess studied the three byways. The carriage was parked on the one leading westward. Off to her left the road wove in a northeasterly direction across an open field before disappearing over a hill. The center one, lined with tall oaks, pointed straight east. The one to the right headed due south. “I guess we’ll be taking the middle lane?”