Truth
Makilien Trilogy - Book 1
Molly Evangeline
Copyright 2011 by Molly Evangeline
www.makilien.com
www.mollyevangeline.com
Published by Living Sword Publishing
www.livingswordpublishing.com
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise—without prior written permission of the author. The only exception is brief quotations in written reviews.
All Scriptures are taken from the New American Standard Bible, Copyright © 1960, 1962, 1963, 1968, 1971, 1972, 1973, 1975, 1977, 1995 by The Lockman Foundation. Used by permission. www.Lockman.org
Table of Contents
Copyright
John 8:32
Chapter 1 - Prisoners
Chapter 2 - The Stranger
Chapter 3 - Escape
Chapter 4 - The Village
Chapter 5 - Friend or Foe?
Chapter 6 - On the Road
Chapter 7 - The Forest
Chapter 8 - Mountain Wolves
Chapter 9 - Elven City
Chapter 10 - Messenger
Chapter 11 - Minarald
Chapter 12 - Two Meetings
Chapter 13 - Poison
Chapter 14 - Lord Glorlad
Chapter 15 - King of Beldon
Chapter 16 - The Plot
Chapter 17 - Ambush
Chapter 18 - Preparing for War
Chapter 19 - A Strange Thing
Chapter 20 - The Sacrifice
Chapter 21 - The War Begins
Chapter 22 - The Battle is Waged
Chapter 23 - Aftermath
Chapter 24 - Unlikely Hero
Chapter 25 - Celebration
Chapter 26 - Farewell
Chapter 27 - Homeward
Dolennar Map
Book 2 Preview
Books by Molly Evangeline
“And you will know
the truth, and the truth
will make you free.”
- John 8:32
Chapter One
Prisoners
Makilien glared, her intense eyes switching from a half-finished charcoal sketch to the subject of the drawing. The steady, unchanging trickle of the shallow stream should have been a soothing sound, yet it grated on every single one of her nerves. No longer able to bear it, she dropped her piece of charcoal and picked up a stone. With all her might, she flung it into the stream. The splash and ripples it caused only interrupted the natural flow momentarily before it returned to normal.
Scowling, Makilien stuffed her sketchbook and charcoal into the pouch at her side and leaned her head back against the tree. In the silence that followed, she sensed a concerned gaze. Finally, her eyes turned to the dark haired young man, two years her elder, and her closest friend.
“I don’t know how much longer I can take this, Aedan. I have sketched this stream from almost every possible angle over the years. I’m tired of doing it just to pass the time.”
Aedan kicked at the dirt. In his heart, he agreed, but what could he say to give her encouragement or change any of it? They went through this nearly every day, and even that was monotonous, but as far as he knew, change was impossible. Nothing ever changed in the village of Reylaun. The butcher, the bakery, the inn—everything stayed exactly as it had been for over a century. And the people were just as unchanging. They were born, lived their quiet lives, and eventually died. Every day the same. Day after day.
After a long moment of frustrated silence, Makilien stood, mumbling, “I should go home. Mother might have chores for me.”
Aedan rose with her. “Me too.”
Makilien envied him. At least he had some purpose to his life in shouldering the responsibility of caring and providing for his mother and younger sister. They relied on him as the man of the house since his father’s untimely death years ago, the result of a hunting accident, or so they had been told.
The two friends walked a short ways together before they came to a split in the road, one way leading to Makilien’s house, and the other to Aedan’s.
“I’ll see you later, Makilien.”
“Bye, Aedan.”
Going their separate ways, Makilien soon reached the house of her family’s small village farm. Inside the modest dwelling, she found her mother Hanna already at work on supper while little six-year-old Leiya swept the floor. Hanna looked up from her meal preparations when the floorboards creaked.
“Makilien, the animals’ water trough is low. Will you please take Leiya to the well?”
“Yes, Mother.” Makilien held back a sigh, knowing her depressed mood would only make her mother upset.
Buckets in tow, Makilien led her younger sister through the dreary, gray village they called home, a task she’d performed nearly every day for most of her seventeen years. As they passed by, she glanced at the two guards who stood on either side of the village’s one gate. Tall men, dressed entirely in menacing black, they wore large, angular helmets that covered most of their stony faces. Makilien’s skin prickled at the sight of them.
No one went in or out of Reylaun without permission. If anyone wanted to visit a nearby village or go out hunting, they had to have an escort. Zirtan, the ruler of the country of Aldûlir, declared it to be for the good and safety of everyone—to protect them from the vast evilness of Dolennar outside their borders. Zirtan, a ruler no one had ever seen—a ruler who seemed to have been around for years far past those of an average Human.
Makilien and Leiya soon arrived at the nearest public well. A guard stood there too. Even their water consumption was monitored. The guard watched them with piercing dark eyes as they lowered their buckets into the well.
Living in Reylaun was like living in a prison, but to speak in such a way would be considered treason. One could be put in the stocks, beaten, or worse for any word or deed that questioned the all-powerful Zirtan. But most people insisted life was good and that Zirtan only did what was best for them. They were content that Reylaun had never been attacked by the evil outside, and everyone could live their lives quietly. They are fooling themselves, Makilien thought bitterly. We are no better than prisoners.
As she lifted her last bucket, she glanced once more at the guard, glad he could not read her mind else she would have been dragged away to the center of the village and punished for all to see. But this thought did not scare Makilien as much as her parents said it ought to. All the desperate questions and laments in her heart cried to be shared and answered, but she held her tongue, if only for her family’s sake.
With Makilien’s two buckets full and one small enough for Leiya to carry, the two of them turned for home. After they had passed the gate, Leiya whispered, “They scare me.”
Makilien took a quick glance over her shoulder at the guards. “Don’t worry, I wouldn’t let them hurt you.”
When they reached home, Makilien carried her buckets of water around the house to a small stable. In a paddock stood three sheep, some chickens, and an old milk cow and her calf. Makilien dumped the water into the trough and watched them drink.
“We’re not much better off than you,” she murmured.
At the deep sound of her father’s voice drifting from the house, Makilien turned away from the animals. Inside, the family gathered for their evening meal. As the food was passed, Hanna asked her husband, “Did work go well today, Néthyn?”
“Yes,” he answered with only a satisfied nod and no details concerning his labor at the mill.
Quietness settled over the table. Makilien glanced at each of
her parents as she poked at her supper with her fork. Neither appeared to have anything more to say. She hated when it was like this, and it seemed to be so more and more lately, at least to her. When she could no longer bear the silence, she asked, “Did anything unusual happen?”
Her father gave her a questioning look. “Unusual?”
“Anything different? Something interesting you could tell us about?”
“No.”
Makilien’s shoulders sagged with a sigh. They never had anything of any interest to discuss at the table because nothing happened in Reylaun unless it was something bad and, right now, even that would have been welcome.
Finally, Makilien pushed her plate toward the center of the table.
“I’m not hungry,” she muttered.
Everyone paused. Néthyn and Hanna looked at each other across the table, sharing a look of discouragement.
“What is wrong this time?” Néthyn asked with a sigh, weary of his daughter’s increasing discontent.
“This, right here, is wrong,” Makilien answered, her voice rising a little. “We don’t have anything to talk about. What are we living for? Just to live? What is the point? Don’t you think there should be a purpose?”
“Makilien, stop,” Néthyn told her firmly.
But Makilien’s frustration had built too far. “Don’t you ever wonder what more there is to Dolennar and why Zirtan is trying to hide it from us?”
Hanna gasped, and Néthyn looked hard at his daughter, caught between anger over her outburst and fear for her. “Lord Zirtan is protecting us. There is nothing but evil in the world, and you should be grateful we are shielded from it.”
“What if the evil is right here, not out there? Don’t you feel the fear and dread creeping into you whenever you are near his guards? What if they are the evil ones—”
“Makilien, that is enough,” Néthyn commanded. “Do you want our family to be seen as traitors? Do not speak in such a way again. Outside of our borders is evil.”
A tense and uncomfortable silence followed, and the family continued their meal. Knowing she would not be granted permission to leave the table, Makilien crossed her arms and glared at her lap until the meal ended.
* * *
After the sun had dropped below the horizon that night, Makilien sat on the steps of the front porch and stared up at the stars. I wonder if they are the same in faraway places as they are here or if they are different. Will I ever find out? Will I even know what is just beyond the border of our village or will I die here uselessly just as everyone else?
“Makilien, will you take me to hear Mornash’s stories tonight?”
The sound of Leiya’s sweet voice brought an interruption to Makilien’s depressing thoughts, and she looked up at her sister with a sigh.
“Don’t you get tired of them?”
“No.” Little Leiya crawled into Makilien’s lap, her large brown eyes illuminated by moonlight. “Can you take me, please?”
Makilien still hesitated, but she could not say no to Leiya’s pleading expression. She dearly loved her little sister, and at least it could be one of her life’s goals to make her happy.
“All right, let’s go.”
Leiya clapped excitedly as Makilien set her on the ground and rose to her feet. Makilien had to smile as Leiya took her hand, and the two of them walked toward the village square.
The dancing light of a bright fire lit up the center of town, and they joined the many people already gathered there. Mornash, a short, plump, undesirable man who reminded Makilien of some sort of rodent, stood with the fire behind him as he faced the crowd. He had been the village storyteller for as long as Makilien could remember, and she harbored deep dislike for him, though most people loved to hear his stories.
Makilien took a vacant seat on a bench and set Leiya back on her lap to listen as Mornash told his tales. Most were scary stories—stories about sneaky goblins, giant, fire-breathing dragons, Elves that were evil beings who tricked unsuspecting people into danger, and many other horrible creatures. They were all stories of the evil world told to fascinate adults and both scare and delight the children. But Makilien had never enjoyed the stories, not truly believing them. She believed the evil creatures were real, but she also believed there had to be more than that—more that Mornash never shared with them.
The storytelling lasted for over an hour, but then the people began to disperse to get their children to bed. Amidst the sound of children begging for one more story, Makilien left Leiya for a moment and found the courage to walk over to Mornash. She’d never talked to him personally before because of her dislike for him, but tonight she was just worked up enough to ask him a few questions.
“Mornash, how do you know about all those creatures if we are never allowed to leave the village?”
Mornash blinked his beady eyes in surprise and then answered smoothly, “I am a loyal servant of Lord Zirtan and go wherever I am requested. I am not so fortunate as you to have been sheltered in this village all my life.”
“What is out there?” Makilien asked, her heart pounding with a desperate hope that she just might learn something from this man, undesirable or not.
“Have you not listened to my stories?” Mornash questioned, placing his hands on his hips with impatience.
“Yes, but there must be more.” Makilien’s desperation leaked out in her tone. “If there are so many evil creatures, how have we stayed safe?”
Mornash tensed and narrowed his eyes. “Lord Zirtan is a powerful ruler, quite capable of protecting his people from evil. You should not be speaking as you do about things you do not understand. Be thankful for Lord Zirtan’s protection.”
Makilien wasn’t satisfied, but she now realized Mornash wasn’t the one to talk to. He surely wouldn’t hesitate to get her in trouble if she kept after him. Disappointed, she turned away, but before she returned to her sister she ran into Aedan.
“I thought you hated Mornash’s stories,” Aedan said with a smile.
“I do,” Makilien muttered, “but Leiya doesn’t.”
“Yeah, Rommia still likes to listen to them too,” Aedan said, looking over his shoulder to locate his own sister. Turning back to Makilien, he asked, “What were you talking to Mornash about?”
Makilien’s face soured. “I wanted him to tell me what more there is in Dolennar, outside of our village.”
“I’d like to know that too, but I don’t think I’d go to him for answers.” He was surprised Makilien had tried it.
“I know, but he’s the only one who knows besides the guards, and I’d sooner ask him than one of them.”
“Be careful. You don’t want to get into trouble.”
“It might be worth it to know,” Makilien murmured.
Aedan nodded slowly, but said nothing. Too many people still lingered around them. They would have to wait to speak freely another time.
Chapter Two
The Stranger
With each unchanging day that passed, Makilien grew more and more despondent. Her family and friends all sensed it, but no one, not even Aedan or Leiya, could do anything to lighten her mood.
Several days later, Makilien reluctantly agreed to a walk around the outskirts of the village with Derrin, a young man about Aedan’s age. It was well known throughout the community that Derrin had been taken with Makilien for years. She, however, had no interest despite everyone’s attempts to see them together.
“What’s wrong, Makilien?” Derrin asked after failing miserably in an attempt to have a conversation with her. “You’re so quiet.”
“I’m always quiet,” Makilien muttered.
“Not this quiet.”
Makilien crossed her arms and kicked at a pebble. “You know how I hate life here. I want it to have some sort of purpose, but it doesn’t.”
“Perhaps it could,” Derrin said, his words tentative. “Maybe . . . if you had your own family . . .”
“Stop, Derrin,” Makilien snapped, a little more harshly than
she meant to. “I know you have your heart set on marrying me, but I’m not interested. Neither do I have any interest in raising a family who will just exist as we are.”
With their walk over as far as she was concerned, Makilien strode away leaving the young man to follow behind in disappointment. By now they had nearly reached the gate. When it came within her view, a most unusual sight halted Makilien. A stranger stood at the gate, speaking to the guards. Standing behind him was a proud dapple gray horse, quite a rarity since the only horses she had ever seen were the pure black ones belonging to the guards.
Makilien inched her way closer, straining to hear the men’s words.
“. . . you are not to speak with the villagers,” one of the guards instructed, his voice sharp with warning.
The man merely gave a casual shrug.
“You will get your supplies and leave in the morning, understand?”
“That’s all I asked.”
“Remember, keep away from the villagers,” the guard reminded him threateningly.
“Yes, sir,” the stranger replied with a hint of sarcasm.
The two guards stepped out of his way, and he turned to his horse. After mounting, he rode slowly into the village. Makilien was riveted. It was rare for a stranger to come in who was not a servant or subject of Zirtan, and clearly he was not.
The stranger rode right past Makilien who could only stare. He turned his head to look at her as he passed and nodded courteously. His short, dark hair and beard were flecked with gray, showing his years, but his eyes made him seem even older. They were the eyes of someone who had seen many things—things Makilien longed to see. An incredible urge to follow him gnawed at her, but the guards were watching closely. Resisting, she turned for home.
It truly was her intention to head straight for her house, but the urge to see the stranger became overpowering, and she changed course once the gate was well out of sight. Instead, she headed for the livery stable where he would have to bed down his horse. Avoiding everyone along the way, Makilien finally made it to the stable and took a cautious step inside. The stranger stood in a stall brushing and talking to his horse. Silently, Makilien approached him.