Exiles

  He led Daniel across the room and introduced him to the young couple and older gentleman. They greeted him with quiet reverence, bowing their heads and calling him by his title.

  He smiled kindly at them. “Daniel, please. There’s no need for titles here. We’re all believers—not royalty or nobles.”

  They returned his smile, and then everyone found seats wherever there was room. Daniel took a chair near an elderly couple, who were some of the first people he had come to know since attending these meetings. Once the shuffling and murmuring stilled, everyone’s attention focused on Ben at the front of the group.

  “I am so pleased to see you all here tonight in spite of the danger, and we eagerly welcome our new members. Some would question our gathering, considering the risk and growing danger, but I believe it is Elôm’s will for us to be here to learn and to praise Him together. I also believe He will protect us as we do so. Before we begin, let us bow our heads and pray for His blessing and protection tonight.”

  Daniel bowed his head and closed his eyes as those around him did the same. Ben’s deep voice filled the room as he prayed for Elôm’s guidance and protection for each person in the room and for other believers scattered throughout Arcacia and Samara, where the persecution was so heavy. Daniel let these words seep in and repeat in his heart. They held so much meaning compared to the worthless, empty handful of prayers he had ever offered to Aertus and Vilai.

  After Ben concluded, they sang a couple of old hymns Daniel had never even heard of before last summer. Then Ben pulled out a crinkled piece of parchment. He read the words it contained—several verses from Elôm’s Word. Daniel had heard them before but never tired of them. They were all thankful to have anything to read at all—these passages passed down through families and written reverently on scraps of closely guarded parchments—though they were but a handful of verses compared to the full collection of the King’s Scrolls that Sam had smuggled out of Auréa almost two years ago. Thank Elôm that Daniel had let him go that night. He’d had no idea how much that would mean now.

  For an hour, Ben expounded on the meaning of the verses. He was one of a few older men who routinely took turns teaching and sharing their knowledge of Elôm. Everyone received the teaching as if it were a meal after not eating in days—Daniel included. He hated when he had to miss these weekly gatherings.

  After the session came a time of fellowship. Daniel mingled with the group, greeting everyone he had missed in the last two weeks. A large variety of people attended these meetings—from wealthy merchants like Ben to poor millworkers—but none of that mattered to them. They were friends.

  No, more than friends. Family.

  While he talked with a group of young men his age, the new attendees approached him tentatively, and the young woman offered a timid smile. “My lord . . .” She blushed. “Daniel?”

  He offered her an understanding smile. For Arcacian citizens, showing proper respect to royalty would have been ingrained since childhood. He couldn’t expect them to break such habits right away. “Yes?”

  “Ben said you saw Elon after He rose and that is how you believed…could you tell us about it?”

  Daniel’s smile widened at her eagerness, and his mind drifted back, as it often did, to the day that changed his life forever. “Of course.” A few others listened attentively as well. He had already told his story numerous times but never hesitated to share again how Elôm had changed him.

  “I was there on the platform when . . .” He paused, the words ‘when my father killed Him’ sticking in his mouth. He hated the association, and he cleared his throat. “When He was killed.”

  Even now, the emotions flooded back, pressing down on his chest. “I knew it wasn’t just another execution. I could feel that it was something much more profound than just one man dying for another. And then, just before He died, He looked at me—looked into my eyes. I knew in that moment He was everything He was said to be.”

  It was incredible, really. He was never so certain of anything as he had been in that moment. It had completely blown apart everything he’d thought he knew, yet had led to the discovery of all the answers he had searched for all his life.

  “After He was gone, I felt lost and desperate to understand what had happened, but I didn’t know where I could go or who I could trust. Three days later, I went out to the cliffs by myself and He appeared there, standing right before me. He told me that if I followed Him, He could use me to make a difference. Just before He disappeared again, He instructed me to come here and speak to Ben.”

  “And I’ll never forget the moment I opened my door to find the crown prince of Arcacia standing on my doorstep.” Ben’s amused voice joined in from behind. Daniel smiled at him as the man continued, “I was afraid we’d been found out, but the first words out of his mouth were, ‘Elon sent me here. I want to learn more about Elôm.’”

  Daniel grinned, the eagerness of that moment still stirring within him. What a day that had been! He’d spent the entire afternoon and evening talking with Ben and Mira. He would have stayed the whole night if no one at the palace would have missed him.

  “I’ve never been as happy as I have been coming here over the last year,” he said.

  Ben put his hand on his shoulder. “And we’re happy to have you. You’re a testament to Elôm’s power and how He works in the most unexpected and amazing ways.”

  Daniel agreed.

  He remained at the house for another hour or so until most of the group had left. After trading goodbyes with Mira and those who remained, he followed Ben to the door, where they stopped and faced each other.

  “I meant what I said,” Ben told him. “You are a true blessing to us.”

  Daniel rubbed the side of his jaw. He hadn’t been much of a blessing to anyone before last year. More like a royal pain in the neck if he were honest. “It’s a blessing for me to be able to come here to learn and gain answers to my questions. I feel more at home and among family with you than I do at the palace.” He smiled a little. “Every time I come, I wish I didn’t have to leave.”

  “You are always welcome—any day, at any hour.”

  “Thank you.”

  The two of them clasped arms, and Ben said, “May the King protect you.”

  “You too.”

  Daniel put on his cloak and stepped out into the dark courtyard, where a gentle rain fell. He pulled up his hood and set out for the palace. He followed a different path this time just to be safe. Whenever he thought of Ben and Mira or the others getting caught, his heart nearly failed him. He would sooner give up his own life than see them executed.

  On his return journey to the palace, he did not come across anyone on the streets in this wet weather, but Daniel didn’t mind it. The quiet drum of the rain and the solitude did him good, and he took his time.

  During the walk, memories of last summer returned to his mind. The moment Elon had looked at him just before death would never fade. He had witnessed such love in his Savior’s eyes that it had convinced him beyond any doubt of Elôm’s existence. Pressure built in his throat again, pushing up toward his eyes. He’d fallen straight to his knees on the cliffs where Elon appeared, unworthiness almost suffocating him. He still didn’t know why or how Elôm would use him in this difficult situation when his own father led the assault against believers, but he prayed he would be ready when the time came.

  At the palace, he picked his way up to the wall, careful to step only on the rocks so he wouldn’t leave tracks in the mud. Though they would probably wash away by morning, he couldn’t take any chances. Not unless he wanted to face the prospect of no longer attending Ben’s meetings. He couldn’t abide the thought. His faith constantly longed to be fed, and he needed the fellowship. Always being surrounded by those who blindly followed his father depressed him and left him in a mood unfitting for service to Elôm.

  Pushing through the vines, he squeezed past the temple and eyed the courtyard. However, in such murky weather, he doubted
anyone would notice him even if the guards were around. Still, he moved cautiously to the palace and let himself inside, where he brushed back his hood and breathed out a sigh. Tension uncoiled in his muscles. Such regular stress probably wasn’t healthy.

  He headed straight for his chambers to change into something dry and get to bed. Just when he reached one of the staircases, his father’s voice echoed behind him.

  “What are you doing?”

  Daniel stiffened, and his heart choked for a beat. He turned slowly. His father’s gaze swept his rain-soaked cloak. “I was out…for a walk.”

  His father lifted a brow. “At this hour in the rain?”

  Daniel shrugged. “Why not?”

  The two of them stared long and hard at each other. A wide chasm existed between them that Daniel wasn’t sure could ever be bridged. Anger stirred inside of him, always lurking whenever he was near his father. He struggled to contain it. His own father had driven the killing dagger into Elon’s chest. He prayed silently over the struggle and fought to calm his voice.

  “I’m going to bed.”

  His father said nothing, and Daniel climbed the stairs. Once he reached the hall, out of sight, he breathed out heavily and hung his head, suddenly exhausted.

  Rain beat on the roof as Jace bent over the table, his eyes trained on the words of the King’s Scrolls. At the end of the page, he paused and glanced around. Timothy sat across from him, penning another message to share with the members of camp as he typically did a couple of times a week. Kyrin sat just to Jace’s right with her elbow resting near his hand. Close enough to brush his fingers across it. But that wouldn’t be appropriate since they were supposed to be studying. He did watch her for a moment. She was writing too, another copy of the Scrolls, this time all from memory. He didn’t wish for her abilities, but what a gift to be able to recall any portion of Elôm’s Word without struggle.

  He bent his head again and refocused on the parchment in front of him, the rhythm of raindrops and the scratch of quills fading into the background. Several minutes later, the cabin door swung open. Aaron stepped inside, his dark cloak spattered with moisture. He pushed back his hood.

  “Darq and Glynn just arrived. They’re with Trask and Balen at the meeting hall.”

  Setting aside their study materials, the three of them rose and grabbed their cloaks.

  “Did you hear any news?” Timothy asked his brother.

  Aaron shook his head. “No, but Darq didn’t look happy.”

  More bad news. Nothing seemed to work in their favor these days. Yet, Jace reminded himself that Elôm’s plans didn’t always make sense in their minds. After all, if Jace had not been captured and taken to Valcré last summer, he might still question Elôm’s love for him. It was in the dark dungeon of Auréa Palace that Elon had declared once and for all that he did have a soul and was loved.

  Outside, they rushed through the downpour to the meeting hall. What a miserable day for flying. Maybe that had something to do with Darq’s mood. Others were on their way as they stepped inside. Trask and Balen gathered in the center of the large, open room with Darq and Glynn. The two waterlogged cretes stood with their long dark hair matted and dripping. Even so, Captain Darq made a proud, formidable figure despite standing almost a head shorter than Jace. He half scowled, his sapphire eyes as stormy as the weather.

  “. . . it’s a stalemate.” The crete captain paused and glanced at them in acknowledgement before continuing. “Half the clans want no part of it while the other half desire to fight. It’s turned into a bunch of childish squabbling between the clan leaders.”

  “Can’t those who wish to fight join us?” Trask asked.

  “Individually, some will, but not as a whole. As much as they may desire to fight, they won’t unless Lord Vallan is in favor of it, and he won’t make that call unless the majority of the clans are in agreement.”

  “Which way does Lord Vallan lean?”

  “Personally, he would fight. He’s from the Hawk Clan, and we’ve always been fighters, but with the leaders split the way they are, he won’t issue a call to war. If we had even one more clan on our side, things would be different.”

  Balen rubbed at the lines in his forehead. “None of them can be swayed?”

  Darq snorted. “I tried. I spoke to every opposing clan leader multiple times. You’d think after Falcor’s betrayal and the slaughter of the cretes at Amberin that they’d be more willing, but no. Stubborn fools. Even Falcor’s clan, the Wolf Clan, won’t sway, except for the Tarn family. They are with us wholeheartedly. When I left, Falcor’s father said he would continue to speak to the other elders on our behalf.”

  The room fell silent under the weight of this disappointing news. They had placed so much hope on forming a military alliance with the cretes, especially after everything they had gone through to help locate Timothy and the Scrolls. It didn’t seem right for them to refuse to offer aid. Couldn’t they see that Daican’s tyranny would eventually affect them too?

  Slowly, Trask asked, “So what can we do now?” He glanced at Balen. “We can’t take back Samara or stop Daican without help from the cretes. His firedrake force has grown too large for us to handle on our own.”

  “I’ve made them well aware of that.” Darq, too, looked at Balen. “I believe we have only one action remaining. Lord Balen should accompany me back to Dorland. Lord Vallan and the clan leaders have only heard from me, not directly from Samara. It’s not a bad idea to send at least one person to represent Arcacia as well. Perhaps it will be more difficult for them to tell you no.”

  Balen nodded. “I’m willing. How soon?”

  “As soon as you are ready, my lord.”

  “I’d leave tomorrow if it would help Samara.”

  “We’ll let the dragons have a day to rest, and we can discuss the details.” Darq faced Trask. “What about you? Will you join us?”

  Trask shook his head. “As much as I would like to, there are developments here in Landale I need to monitor. There are others, however, who can take my place.” He gestured specifically at Rayad. “And I’m sure you will agree that a strong security force is needed for the king.”

  “Of course.”

  Trask looked around the room, his gaze picking out certain people in particular. Jace glanced at Kyrin. If his inkling was correct, they were about to set off on another mission, this time halfway across the continent.

  Jace sat on his cot and rummaged through his pack and weapons once more in preparation for their dawn departure. Even traveling by dragon, it would take over a week to reach the forests of northern Dorland—far too long a trip to risk forgetting something. What should he expect from the northern country? Despite what he had heard from Talas and the other cretes, it still failed to create a clear picture in his mind.

  Though Holden and Timothy worked in silence nearby, Aaron, Mick, and Trev talked about the mission. When their discussion turned to the cretes’ tree-dwelling lifestyle, a chill seeped down into Jace’s chest and through his limbs. From the moment he had agreed to this mission, he’d fought to keep from thinking about how the cretes lived. He shared a glance with Holden.

  Trev must have noticed his discomfort. “Sorry, Jace.”

  He shook his head. “Don’t be.” If he weren’t so afraid of heights, he too would be curious about how the elusive cretes lived. He didn’t want to spoil their interest. “I was just leaving. It’s getting close to suppertime.”

  He closed his pack and strode out of the cabin to let his friends continue their discussion. On his way to the Altair’s home, he passed Warin and Lenae’s cabin and found Meredith sitting on a bench outside with the little white kitten Warin had given her. Her bottom lip stuck out in a pout, and he paused. She looked up at him, her wide eyes sad.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  Meredith sighed and dropped her gaze back to the kitten. “I don’t want everyone to go. You were gone so long last time.”

  Her voice drew him to sit down besi
de her, where she looked at him again.

  “Will you be gone long this time?”

  “I’m afraid so,” Jace said. “It’s a long way to Dorland.”

  Meredith’s pout returned full force. “It’s not as fun without Kyrin here to play with me.”

  Jace couldn’t help but smile. “Well, you do have Violet to play with now.” He nodded to the kitten, who padded from Meredith’s lap onto his. Stroking the kitten’s downy coat, he leaned a little closer to Meredith. “And I’d be very happy if you played with Tyra sometimes. She gets lonely when we’re gone too.”

  Meredith perked up a little. “I can play with her.”

  Drawn by her name, Tyra stepped closer to Jace and sniffed Violet curiously. The kitten scooted away, her ears laid flat, and hissed. Tyra took a step back and looked up as if to ask what she’d done wrong. Jace patted her head and handed the disgruntled kitten back to Meredith.

  “Will your trip be dangerous?” the girl asked.

  “I don’t think so,” Jace told her—unless one counted falling out of giant trees. He shoved the thought away.

  “You will always take care of Kyrin, won’t you?”

  She fixed him with a serious gaze, and he matched it. “Always.”

  “Good, ‘cause she’s my only sister, and I don’t want anything to happen to her.”

  “Neither do I, Meredith.”

  “Because you love her?”

  Jace chuckled softly. “Yes.” He half expected her to ask if they would get married. That seemed to be everyone’s question these days.

  However, Meredith’s attention had shifted, and Jace looked up. Kyrin walked toward them, a particularly warm smile on her face

  “Supper’s ready,” she announced. She focused on Meredith. “Your mommy said you get to have supper with us tonight.”

  “Can Violet come?”

  “Of course.”

  Kyrin held out her hand, and Meredith took it, sliding off the bench. Jace rose, and the three of them headed toward the Altair cabin. He glanced at Meredith walking between them, and then at Kyrin. A thought struck him—what might it be like if Meredith was their child instead? He swallowed hard. If only that didn’t terrify him.