The Chronicles of Anwen

  Anwen considered that. Not much was more important than a horse.

  “So what is it? Where are you taking me?”

  To the King.

  “The King asked for me? How in the world does the most important person in Eltiria know about me?”

  The King is not necessarily the most important person, although he is a leader. Daeron paused as if he was trying to decide how to answer her question. He didn’t ask for you by name. He asked for the best person with horses. We picked you.

  “We?”

  The other Archippi.

  Anwen’s questions died as she considered his words. They picked her of all the other trainers and people in the whole world. And now she was going to see the King for some mysterious mission.

  The questions returned. “But why...?”

  Hold on.

  Daeron banked to the right. With gentle movements of his wings, he began to descend. Anwen held on tight and glanced down to the ground.

  This time she didn’t feel sick or frightened. The sight of the world below them fascinated her so much that she almost forgot to hold on with her legs.

  Below them, but coming closer and closer, was a castle. At first, it was the size of a toy. Something like what her younger brother used to play with. She leaned back when Daeron’s dive grew steeper. Within four circles, the castle looked like a large house.

  Daeron completed two more turns, and she could make out the flags on the turrets blowing in the breeze. Then the white jaguars on the flag came into view, their paw outstretched like they were attacking. The castle grew larger than her house, larger than a barn, larger than a couple of barns, and finally as they glided into the courtyard, it was the biggest building she had ever seen.

  “Wait!” she cried. “I can’t do this. I’m not even dressed to meet the King. Look at me. I’m a mess!”

  You are a mess, I agree. Daeron snorted. But there’s no time to fix it. Don’t get comfortable. We have mere hours left. Just remember to curtsy, call the King ‘your majesty’ or ‘sire,’ and never turn your back to him.

  “Wait, what? You’ll be with me, right?”

  Daeron banked away from the castle and landed in a small meadow. A man stepped from the trees at their arrival.

  Unfortunately, no. I do not have permission to be seen by so many. Now off.

  Anwen slid off his back. Her knees almost buckled when her feet hit the ground. But it wasn’t the ride. She had ridden far harder and longer.

  She swallowed. How many people were going to be there? She didn’t have time to ask Daeron.

  A tall, thin man strode from the trees. He was dressed in black and wore a sword on his hip. He crossed the open meadow and didn’t stop until he reached them.

  “Are you the one the King seeks?” he asked Anwen. His face showed no warmth, and his eyes were hard.

  “I... I think so,” Anwen said, confused by his behavior.

  The man pulled his sword free of the scabbard, grabbed Anwen by the arm, and swung at Anwen.

  Look out! Daeron yelled in her head.

  She leaped back, stumbled, and fell on her back. Over her head, she heard a crash like two swords smashing together. She closed her eyes and rolled through the grass.

  After a few turns, she leaped to her feet. Two men dueled in the middle of the meadow. The second man was older with light blonde hair. He blocked a few thrusts of the first man.

  “You have finally shown your true colors, Edryd,” Anwen’s rescuer spat. With every word, he attacked. “I’ve watched you. I know you’re a traitor. You serve Seiten.”

  Anwen gasped.

  “I’m not ashamed of it,” Edryd yelled. “I’m glad that you know, Maelor, for you can take this knowledge with you as you die. Seiten will break free. He’ll wreck havoc on this land and create a new order, one where I shall rule as his closest advisor. All that you love will be destroyed.”

  Maelor didn’t answer, but his face grew harder. He circled Edryd while blocking the blows.

  The attack from Edryd pushed Maelor back. He tripped once but recovered before Maelor could land a fatal blow.

  “Do something!” Anwen shouted to Daeron.

  You know the laws. I am not to interfere between men.

  “That’s a dumb law!” Anwen yelled.

  Maelor stumbled again. Even Anwen could see he was breathing heavily. His blocks came slower and slower. Anwen yelled again and looked around for a weapon, but there was nothing in sight.

  Edryd laughed. “Finally you shall die. I’ve waited for this moment.”

  He lunged at Maelor. Maelor gave a small cry and turned as if to run. Edryd cried out in triumph.

  But instead of running, Maelor continued to circle. When Anwen saw his face again, he was no longer a defeated man. He was in control and strong.

  Edryd hesitated in confusion.

  “I’m afraid,” Maelor said, “that I’m not the one who is going to die.”

  Maelor’s sword slipped under Edryd’s raised sword and into Edryd’s chest. The traitor gave a small cry and dropped to the ground. Maelor pulled his sword free.

  He wiped his sword on the grass and bowed to Daeron. “Greetings, fair Archippos. I am sorry for what you have seen here, but I’m afraid events like this are growing more frequent. If you forgive me, I shall dispense with the formalities and escort you to the throne room.”

  Daeron bowed his head. Now is not the time for formalities. Unfortunately, I must leave Anwen with you. The time will come when we will renew our presence in Eltiria, but it is not today.

  “I understand,” Maelor replied. “Is this the one we look for?”

  She is. Judge not by her appearance. I found her rescuing an injured stallion from a Seeker with a mere knife.

  Maelor raised his eyebrows. “Brave. Or perhaps foolish.”

  I must be off. Daeron stepped closer to Anwen. He nudged her with his head. Be brave. Be confident. Adoyni has chosen you for this moment, and it doesn’t depend on your physical appearance or your wealth. It relies on your courage, your strength, and your heart. I will be watching over you.

  “Thank you, Daeron.” Anwen’s voice broke. “I will do as you say.”

  Daeron snorted and took off at a run to leap into the sky. She watched him soar over the treetops and longed to be on his back again instead of heading to the throne room of the King.

  “Come,” Maelor said. “Time is short, and the King awaits.”

  Anwen swallowed again, finding the lump in her throat. She trotted behind Maelor through the trees and into a busy courtyard filled with people bustling in every direction. Maelor didn’t even notice them as they parted to let them pass.

  They climbed the stairs into the castle. The huge rooms were filled with rich tapestries and treasures worth more than the best horse at Shalock Stables. She struggled to keep up and not stare at everything.

  What was it that Daeron said? How do you leave a room if you can’t turn your back to someone? Am I supposed to curtsy right away or when introduced? What happens if I get it wrong?

  Maelor threw open two large golden doors decorated with white jaguars. Anwen glimpsed a long red carpet leading to the dais where two large thrones sat. She was entering the throne room where the King waited for her.

  Anwen swallowed. She had faced down angry horses that weighed more than four of her. She had overcome men’s disapproval and dislike to prove her ability as trainer. She had spent days in the saddle, through the toughest weather.

  But walking the short length to the throne was the hardest thing she had ever done.

  Chapter Three

  Anwen’s Task

  Anwen knew Daeron’s advice on how to act around the King needed to be followed, but she could only think of one thing.

  Don’t trip. Don’t trip. Don’t trip.

  Other than the King sitting on the throne, the room was empty. Maelor led the way down the red carpet, and Anwen decided to follow his lead
. She resisted the urge to straighten her hair or clothes. The King had already seen her, and nothing she could do now would improve her condition.

  She squared her shoulders. Daeron was right. Her looks didn’t matter. It was her ability with horses that had brought her the King’s attention. If she smelled like horse and looked like she had just gotten off one, then they would know they got what they wanted.

  Maelor approached the throne and bowed on one knee at the foot of the stairs. Anwen copied him, forcing her legs to stop quivering.

  “Rise.” The command came from the King.

  Anwen and Maelor stood up. Anwen studied the King, overwhelmed to be near such majesty. It wasn’t the gold adorning the throne. It wasn’t the fine furs and cloth the King wore. She couldn’t name what it was.

  Maybe it was the simple realization that the King ruled by Adoyni’s appointment, laying down laws according to Adoyni’s wishes. There was no higher person in all of Eltiria.

  King Amhar studied her with dark, serious eyes. He looked to be about her father’s age, but her Da didn’t have the weight of the world on him. Worry lines creased the King’s face, not enough to mar his looks, but enough to tell Anwen that he took the mantle of leadership seriously.

  “You are the trainer?” the King asked with doubt in his voice.

  “The Archippos Daeron found me and brought me here at your request.” Anwen stopped and then remembered what Daeron told her to say. “Your Majesty.”

  “A girl?” he questioned Maelor.

  “Sire,” Maelor replied. “The Archippos told me she was fighting a Seeker with a knife when he appeared.”

  “So,” the King raised his eyebrows. “Is this a common occurrence for you?”

  “I’ve never done anything like that before,” Anwen admitted.

  The King exhaled and sank back in his chair. Disappointment filled his face and then quickly disappeared under a mask of no emotion.

  “I’m sorry,” Anwen said. “I don’t know why I was chosen, but if it has anything to do with horses, I can do it.”

  The King smiled. Anwen had the impression that if they had met somewhere else under different roles, she might have really liked him. As it was, the royalty that surrounded him created a barrier for any friendship. Pity washed over her, even though he lacked nothing.

  King Amhar smiled slightly. “You do come with some great recommendations.”

  She swallowed but didn’t answer. It was his choice. Either he would tell her why she was there or she would go home and never know what her mission was to be.

  After what seemed to be forever, the king nodded. “I will trust the Archippi’s decision.”

  Beside her, Maelor exhaled like he had been holding his breath for a long time.

  The King spoke softly. “What I will tell you can never be repeated, not even to your closest friend. The future of Eltiria lies with this information. Do you promise to never reveal this to anyone?”

  Anwen swallowed. This was one promise she could never break. “I promise to keep everything you tell me a secret.”

  King Amhar nodded. “We know that Seiten is working to escape his prison on Elda Isle. But even more shocking, people here are attempting a journey across the sea to the east to find him and align with him. We have it on good authority that someone has somehow managed to survive the journey and return.”

  Maelor gasped. “But that’s impossible! Only the Archippi can reach Elda Isle!”

  “So it was thought,” the King said. “But someone did. We just don’t know who.”

  “What does this have to do with me, Your Majesty?” She shifted on her feet.

  “This person, I believe, is responsible for a large group of people rejecting Adoyni and declaring Seiten their lord,” the King continued. “Oddly, this false belief isn’t growing in a large city. It’s in a small area in an average sized town called Coho.”

  Anwen wasn’t about to ask where Coho was, although she was dying to. She would research it as soon as she had the chance.

  “That makes sense, sire!” Maelor said. “It’s central Eltiria on the banks of the Blackfork River. If they control that area, they have a strong foothold, and the horses would give them an almost unbeatable army.”

  That’s right! Coho!

  Anwen almost laughed! How could she have forgotten? The area was filled with tribes that bred purebreds with wild horses to create a separate breed that was said to be both swift and smart.

  “Always the strategist, aren’t you?” King Amhar smiled at Maelor. Then he turned back to Anwen. “Everything Maelor says is true. We believe we know which tribe has turned to Seiten. How we have come to know is another story but one that came at a great price as many died.”

  Anwen shifted as silence filled the room. “I am sorry, Your Majesty.”

  “As am I,” King Amhar replied. He blinked away the sadness and continued. “In their tradition, every five years the two largest tribes race their best horse. The winner gets their choice of sixty percent of the losers’ horses. If they win this time, it will give them an edge that will never be recovered.”

  “Then why don’t you just not allow this tribe to race?” Anwen asked.

  “Good question,” the King said. “But we can’t show what we know. Imagine the panic if we allowed the information out that Seiten is trying to escape. Also, we don’t want the enemy to know that we know just yet. It gives us a bit of the upper hand.”

  “How do I help?” Anwen asked. All of the strategy and politics were beyond her.

  King Amhar smiled. “I like that question. We do know the one tribe is loyal to Adoyni. But their stallion is wild and uncontrollable. No one can lay a hand on him. This is where you come in. You must train this stallion, and he must win the race. All will be lost if you fail.”

  Anwen struggled to breathe. She had dealt with tough horses before. But she had never worked with a wild stallion no one could control.

  I said I could do it. So I will.

  “How long do I have?” she asked, trying to plan what she would do.

  “It will take us a fortnight to travel there,” Maelor said. “That gives you three days until the race.” Daeron

  Where did Daeron go? Why couldn’t he fly me there?

  But she knew the Archippi didn’t just give rides when people wanted it.

  “Three days! That’s impossible!” Anwen gasped. “I’ve heard of these races. If it was on a track like in Northbridge with fences that line the racetrack, maybe there would be a chance. But their races stretch out over mountains and desert. There are no fences to hold the stallion to the path if he’s not trained. It can’t be done.”

  “Then you must train him!” the King roared. “You cannot fail!”

  Anwen shook her head once. “A fortnight gives me time to think over how to tame this stallion. But there’s not much I can do in three days, Your Majesty.”

  “You must win. You must get this stallion to run faster than the fiercest wind.” The King rose. “All of Eltiria rests on this.”

  Chapter Four

  Anwen’s Task

  First it rained. Anwen with her eight guards sent by King Amhar trudged through the mud that only grew deeper. Even the horses struggled to continue.

  Then the rain stopped, but the wind came. It howled against them, never pushing them forward. It blew harder than she had ever felt. One night their tents flew away, causing the horses to spook from their line where they were tied. No one slept, and they spent the majority of the next day repairing the damage and salvaging what they could.

  Hail came when they were crossing the mountains. They found meager shelter under rocks and crags of the mountains. One guard was knocked unconscious by some hail stones that fit comfortably in Anwen’s palm. They were not able to travel for another day.

  Strange things continued to occur. Anwen tried to control her frustration as the fortnight passed. They pressed on how fast as they could, but they wer
e late.

  Now she had less than a day to tame the wild stallion. And although she spent long hours in the saddle contemplating how she could train an uncontrollable stallion, nothing extraordinary came to mind. Until she saw the horse and knew what was causing him to act that way, she was stuck.

  Evening was approaching on the last day. As the rays cast long shadows, the horses climbed a steep mountain. As they neared the top, the dirt mixed with sand, and the trees looked like they didn’t get much water. They were approaching the desert.

  “Welcome,” a call came from the top. “And it’s about time!”

  Anwen looked up to see a young man sitting on a tall bay horse. He grinned at their surprise. “I’ve been sitting on this hill for three days waiting for you.”

  Anwen ran an eye over his horse. A long, thick mane cascaded over the horse’s strong neck. Intelligence and fire sparked in the brown eyes. The horse reminded her of another one she had seen, but she couldn’t place where.

  “My name is Paden.” At his words, Anwen returned her attention to him. He winked at her like he knew she was studying his horse. “And this is Aniela. We shall guide you into your valley, for it is a trail few travel.”

  He led them alongside a steep cliff that dropped straight down. Her horse kicked a stone, and she watched tumble down into it was out of sight.

  She sat up straight and swallowed. One step and the horses would fall off the cliff. She glanced at the guards, and she noticed that everyone was trying hard not to look down.

  Anwen only glanced where they were headed once. At the bottom of the mountain lay a large meadow, big enough that the mountains that rose on the other side looked small. Streams crisscrossed the meadow and made the grass green. There was ample room to raise all the horses you wanted. On the far side sat an enclosure of houses and what she assumed was barns.

  She would have studied it longer, but then she noticed birds flying below her. Her stomach turned, and her heart pounded in her chest. She grabbed the saddle, wanting to think about something other than falling.

  The height, the steep trail, and the possibility of falling didn’t seem to bother either Paden or Aniela. They rode as if they were one. Paden spent most of his time twisted in his saddle so he could keep talking.

  “Awfully glad to see you,” he said as they were approaching the bottom of the cliff. “Especially since our fastest and best stallion, the one you came all this way to train since he won’t let us lay a hand on him, just returned this morning.”