"They both look young. This one's hardly more than a child," said a dark-robed soldier tapping Avor’s chest lightly with the tip of his sword. Avor stayed silent and turned his face away. Electra held her breath, watching the sword.
"Let's get them to the campfire and have a look," the armored soldier said.
They nudged Avor and Electra along at sword point across the bridge and into the open area around the fire. Avor saw many of the castle guards tied up in groups off to one side. Fernland’s red and gold banner had been torn down and lay in shreds at the bottom of its post. Helsop’s blue and white banner flew in its place. The soldiers who moved around the campfire wore dark, mismatched clothes with no insignia to identify their allegiance.
The soldiers stopped at the campfire to examine their captives more closely. The tall one with the metal face plate lifted his visor as he searched them for weapons. He removed the crystal ball from its sling and put it inside his shirt.
"Children!" the shorter soldier scoffed, "Don’t seem like much of a threat."
"I’ll let Dagon decide," the armored soldier said as he grabbed Avor and Electra by their arms.
He pulled his captives past the campfire to a tent backed by a large boulder. A sentry moved aside to admit them.
The armored man flipped open the tent flap and stuck his head in.
"Deimos, come in," called a gruff voice from inside the tent.
Dagon, the Headman of Helsop, sat behind a table writing notes by candlelight. He looked up, scowling, then his face softened in surprise. He leaned back in his chair. "Deimos, my friend, King Geoffrey grows desperate. He makes spies of children now."
"We're neither spies nor children," Electra said with a swing of her hair.
"What's this, a spy who speaks? Better still." Dagon's face went hard again, "So tell me M'Lady, who are you and what is your purpose here?"
Electra looked at Avor. His face was white. He gave a slight shake of his head. Electra saw the warning in his eyes. "Get rid of the spy who doesn't speak," said Dagon as he concentrated his attention on Electra.
The soldiers began to drag Avor out.
"No," said Electra, "you can't, he's the…" Avor's eyes pleaded with her.
"He's the what?" Dagon demanded.
"He's the famous soothsayer, A…Amorel."
"Not so famous that I have heard of him," Dagon said.
"He's famous in the South, and I am his assistant. I translate for him. See? There is his crystal ball." She pointed to the lump in Deimos’ shirt.
Deimos removed the crystal ball and set it on Dagon's table.
Dagon looked at it carefully. "A soothsayer? Isn't he a little young?"
"He's very gifted," Electra said. "He comes from the island of Amorate and only speaks that language. The island is famous for soothsayers."
"Famous again. Have you ever heard of this famous soothsayer island, Deimos?"
"No Sir," Deimos replied.
"And how do you both happen to be so far from Amorate?" Dagon asked.
"We were summoned by a messenger to come to Fernland to do readings for King Geoffrey," Electra said.
Dagon walked back and forth behind his table, considering. He stopped and gestured at Deimos. He released Avor. "Come closer Amorel," Dagon commanded.
Avor tried to look bewildered. He glanced at Electra.
"Dubor ent andarvil," she said in her best contrived language.
Avor stepped closer to Dagon.
Dagon looked at Avor doubtfully. "Tell him to…" He paced back and forth for a while longer, then stopped. "Tell him to look into his ball and tell me the size of my army," he said. His face looked menacing.
Electra stepped forward with Avor and picked up the crystal ball.
"Hold! What are you doing?" Dagon demanded.
"He will go into a trance and whisper his vision to me," she said.
Avor and Electra both looked deep into the crystal ball. Little clouds began to gather and the orange glow within seemed to brighten. Electra saw a bedraggled northern outpost of a few hundred souls, ill clad and poorly nourished. A larger group formed to the northwest, fading in and out of the picture. Avor leaned close to his sister and whispered, "I hope you know what you are doing."
Chapter 15
Fernland’s Castle
King Geoffrey woke up with a start. He wiped the perspiration from his face and lay still, hoping he had not wakened Delphinia. She lay quiet beside him. He couldn’t tell if she was still asleep. His mind drifted back to the nightmare that had wakened him. A raging forest fire burned. His son, Avor, caught unaware, called out to his father. Geoffrey shook his head to avoid falling back into the dream. He tried to roll quietly out of bed.
"Geoffrey?" Delphinia said.
"Did I wake you? I thought I might check with the Captain of the Guard about a matter that slipped my mind earlier. Go back to sleep, I will not be gone long."
"I hope it is not the matter you have been dreaming of, with such thrashing and unrest," Delphinia said.
Geoffrey sighed mightily and lay back down in his bed. "I am as worried as you are that there has been no word from Avor of late," he said.
Delphinia nodded. "I thought I would go mad with grief over Electra but I believe the numbness I feel now over worry for Avor is worse. Have we sinned so greatly to have this befall us?"
"I wonder the same," Geoffrey said. "I think I will take the night air. Sometimes it helps. May I have something brought up for you? Some hot broth perhaps?"
"No, I fear sleep has eluded me for tonight. I believe I will try writing in my journal. Sometimes that helps me." Delphinia sat up and lit the oil lamp on the table beside the bed.
In the dim light of the oil lamp the gold of their bedposts glowed. Geoffrey threw off the silk quilt as he slipped on his shoes and fur cape. He stood up quickly, knowing he should tell Delphinia today’s news, but dreading her reaction. Tomorrow he would tell her. Surely such news could wait until then.
King Geoffrey walked through the large bed chamber to the broad balcony outside, contemplating the news he feared to share. Only this morning the body of General Pommell had arrived by ship at Rivers End.
There was no note other than the tag from a coffin-fitter in the town of Chase Bound. The royal physician said it was likely his heart that had failed, but there were burns also, to indicate injuries from a fire. Geoffrey had managed to keep the arrival quiet, but the General’s family would have to be told soon. He would honor his old friend with a funeral befitting his great service to Fernland. Within a day there would be no way to keep the news from Delphinia.
He ran his fingers through his hair as he gazed up at the starry night, wondering if all was written there as the seers believed. He moved to the edge of the balcony and looked out at the mist that covered the valley floor.
"Where are you Avor?" he cried out, grasping the rail with his hands.
Chapter 16
Fernland’s Castle
Three levels beneath the sleepless King on his balcony stood another cause for worry. The dark hooded figure waited silently on the stone steps leading down to the dungeon. She listened as the guard shuffled through his rounds checking the locks on each prison cell by rattling its door, then returned to his post outside the dungeon entrance. She heard the scrape of the dungeon door as it closed and the metallic clang of the keys as he hung them beside the door. She continued to wait. The low murmur of prisoners' voices began again. The guard yelled out for quiet.
She descended slowly to the middle of the curving stairway. There she stopped in the darkness and took a pebble from her cloak. She threw it low to skitter across the stone floor.
"Who goes there?" called the guard. "Show yourself or I'll raise the alarm."
Another pebble skipped across the stones.
"Cursed rats," the guard grumbled as he picked up his sword and walked toward the stairs.
The dark figure slipped out from the shadows to stand before him.
&nbs
p; The guard raised his sword, torn between attacking and running back to sound the alarm.
"Have no fear," the woman said in a soft, refined voice; "I bring a message from the King."
"Who are you?" asked the guard, "Stay back."
The hood of the cloak fell back and the guard gasped in horror. One side of the woman’s face was burned and horribly scarred. As the dungeon guard stared, a slender hand gently touched his eyes.
"The King has sent me. He wants you to rest now, rest and sleep..., rest and sleep." Her voice was soothing and confident. The guard’s eyes closed slowly and he sank to his knees, then to his side, asleep.
"Good man," said the trespasser as she headed for the dungeon.
She took the keys from the wall and opened the door to the dungeon. Even in the blackness of the underground chambers she could see that many of the cells held inmates. All were hushed and expectant. She walked past the cells looking into pale sunken faces until she came to the one she sought.
"This is your lucky day, thief," she said as she unlocked his cell and pocketed the keys. "You are coming with me."
Take, the Thief, looked at the hooded face shrouded in darkness. He could not make out the features but the voice was familiar. A voice from long ago. Sixteen years ago. Serafina! As recognition dawned he slunk back into the corner of his cell.
"No, go away. I told them nothing. Leave me alone."
She laughed, a low dangerous sound. "Do not make me think you ungrateful. Come." Her voice turned to a command. "Now."
The two figures hurried past the sleeping guard, up the stairs and to the back door of the castle.
"We'll never get past the guards," the thief said. "We’re almost in a state of war here."
"They will be guarding against coming in, not going out," the woman said. "I hope I do not have to warn you about trying to get away."
"No, you don't." The thief slouched in defeat.
She led him to a closed-off area next to the kitchen. A foul stench overtook them as soon as she opened the door to the small room.
"Take these," she said, handing him two smelly chamber pots hanging from a pole. "No talking." She hoisted a similar pole.
As they exited through the servants' door, the first guard stepped back and shouted, "Make way, chamber pots."
They carried their charade as far as the first inner wall of the castle, where they dropped the pots in a ditch. They passed along a line of empty vendor stands set up between the wall and the road. The woman led the thief through the empty marketplace to a little hut beside the stockyards, pushed him inside and shut the door. The smell of the stockyards was almost as bad as the chamber pots and the fetid air as cold as the dungeon.
In the pre-dawn gray the woman removed her hooded cloak and sat down before the unused fireplace. The thief looked at her face in horror.
"Serafina, what happened to you?" Although he had not seen her since he had delivered Electra into her hands sixteen years before, he knew she had once been a beautiful woman.
"Never mind that" she said. "Tell me what's been happening here in the last sixteen years."
Chapter 17
Kingdom of Fernland
Dagon and Deimos stood across from one another staring at the crystal ball still sitting on Dagon’s makeshift desk.
"How do you suppose the girl was able to tell us the size of our army? And advise us that we shouldn’t trust Blackwell to aid us?" Deimos asked.
"Perhaps it is common knowledge. We may be the last ones to learn we will reap no rewards from this foray into Fernland." Dagon scowled. "For as much as we know, Prince Blackwell and Geoffrey could be plotting an alliance as we speak to divide up Helsop between them," he added.
"That will never happen as long as the old king Blackwell lives. He hates Geoffrey too much," Deimos said.
"One thing I do know for certain. Those children are not spies and that ridiculous soothsayer story is a flight of fancy." They continued to stare silently at the crystal ball.
"I have an idea," Dagon said, "Tell the sentry to fetch the girl."
Dagon took a seat behind his desk while Deimos waited at the opening of the tent. Dagon glanced up at Electra as she was led into the tent.
"What have you done with Amorel?" she demanded, "Why have you separated us?"
"I have found someone who speaks the Amorate language. He is being questioned separately."
"That's impossible."
"Oh? Why is that?"
" Amorate is a small, remote island. It is too far from here."
"And yet you speak both Amorate and English."
"I was brought up close by. My Mother studied with them."
"How interesting. What was it your mother studied?"
"Um, the occult arts. Sorcery I suppose you would call it."
"I see. And did you study there as well?"
"I am assistant to Amorel. He is very gifted. Why do you not let us go? We are no threat to you. If you wish we will go back to Amorate. We will send a message to King Geoffrey that we cannot accept his commission."
"And you, a mere assistant, can speak for your master Amorel?"
"We have spoken. I know his mind on this."
"Since you feel no loyalty to King Geoffrey perhaps you would accept my commission instead?"
"I doubt it. I could ask but I am sure he wants no part of your war."
"We will ask him ourselves."
"I tell you this translator of yours is not plausible."
"You seem quite certain on that point, could it be that..."
At that moment a soldier burst into the tent. Deimos reached out to restrain him but Dagon waved him forward.
"What is it?" Dagon asked gruffly.
"A detachment of the King’s Guard has left the castle. They are marching this way."
"Break camp!" Dagon shouted, running from the tent, "Burn the bridge! Gather the prisoners!"
Soldiers and guards began running in every direction.
Deimos took Electra by the arm and stood outside the tent, awaiting orders.
Within minutes the bridge that crossed the Kings River was set ablaze. Guards began tying the prisoners one to another in a long line. Prince Avor was tied on to the end of the line. As soon as the line was secured, the prisoners were pushed into motion by their guards.
Dagon divided his remaining men into six groups of three.
"Geoffrey’s men will scour the woods looking for us," he said, standing before his men. "In small groups we should be able to elude them. You may take more prisoners to hold for ransom if the opportunity arises, but no more than two for each group. The main thing is to avoid being captured. I cannot afford to lose any of you. We will regroup after dark at the cave. Dismissed."
The groups of three headed out in different direction and were soon enveloped by the thick forest. Dagon ran back to his tent and stopped short when he saw Deimos standing there beside Electra.
"What is she doing here?" Dagon asked harshly.
"You said to keep her separated from the soothsayer," Deimos replied.
Dagon hit himself in the forehead with the heel of his hand. He glared at Electra.
"You make any noise or get in the way and I'll have you gagged and tied. Understand?"
Electra nodded and kept silent.
Dagon gathered his notes and weapons from inside the tent and gestured to Deimos as he headed for the woods. "Come with me," he said.
Dagon, Deimos and Electra took off at a run.
Chapter 18
Kingdom of Fernland
In the small hut next to the stockyards Serafina and Take sat on the floor under the window to avoid being seen by stockyard workers passing by on their way to work. Take crossed his arms over his chest, rubbing his hands over his arms to keep warm, and looked longingly at the cold fireplace.
Serafina stood up beside the window and peeked out.
"Work has begun at the stockyards," she said.
She chose a small piece of black materi
al from a stack of materials she took from her bag. She hung it in the window of the vacant hut and a shadowy gloom descended on their cold space.
"So the King has had no word of Electra?" Serafina asked.
"It's not like they keep us informed down in the dungeon," Take said.
"There would have been a celebration, surely," Serafina said.
"Not in the dungeon."
"Let us speak of the dungeon then. It seems well populated."
"They are mostly militia men from Helsop, caught spying or poaching."
"And what news have Helsop’s militia men?"
"That their people are starving. In other words, no news."
"Are they an organized militia?"
"They have a new headman, name of Dagon and he thinks they are a militia. He seems to have some sort of alliance with Prince Blackwell of Henge."
"Blackwell? There's desperation indeed. I'd sooner dance with a viper."
"Beggars can’t be choosers; Blackwell the Younger is in charge now. Old King Blackwell lost a leg and it seemed to slow him down a bit." Take smiled at his little joke. "They say Henge has a tip top army now and Blackwell the Younger is over proud of it."
"Over proud?" Serafina asked.
"So proud he doesn’t want to send them out to fight where they might get hurt." Take smiled again, warming to the discussion.
Serafina looked thoughtful for a moment. "Interesting," she said. Then she studied the thief as though she might be considering making a purchase. The thief’s smile vanished and he began to shrink under her gaze.
"We need a source of news from the castle."
"If I'm seen I'll be put back in prison or worse, now that I've escaped."
"We must alter your appearance."
The thief looked at Serafina's altered appearance and shivered uncontrollably.
Serafina began pulling items from her bag. She draped various pieces of material on his shoulders, standing back to study the effects.
"I believe you might serve as a dervish," she said finally.
"I don’t even know what a dervish is," Take said.
Serafina continued to elaborate on her plan as she fit him with his costume, a gauzy white tunic with a wide skirt made up of panels of the same gauzy white material, held in place with a bright red cumber bund. As she put on the finishing touches, she began to quiz him on her instructions.
"Who are you?"
The thief stared at Serafina, barely suppressing his irritation. "A whirling dervish."