She wasn’t the only one to take advantage of the warmth. Halandor and Loron came to stand there as well, soon joined by Gilhir and Sirion. While they warmed themselves, Makilien glanced at Sirion, intrigued. He was different from any of the other people she had met on her journey. His appearance was more Elven than Halandor’s, despite their shared half Human, half Elf heritage. Although Sirion’s dark hair was shorter than all Elves Makilien had met—a little shorter even than Halandor’s—his handsome face bore no facial hair in the fashion of an Elf.
When Makilien’s hands and face had been warmed, she turned her back to the fire and watched the physicians. Only Eredan had any true injuries although they were not serious. Though Sirion didn’t appear to have any outward sign of injury aside from an old wound above his brow, Andron approached him.
“If you would permit me, I would like to have my physician examine you.” An expression of deep shame contorted Andron’s face.
Sirion did not speak but nodded and walked over to the physician. Slowly, he pulled off his shirt. Makilien winced, and her throat squeezed a little when she spied what was underneath. Sirion’s exposed torso was bruised with the signs of multiple beatings. Makilien also caught a glimpse of a laceration across Sirion’s shoulder. She’d seen the effect of beatings in Reylaun and easily distinguished the wound as a result from a whip. It affected Makilien deeply to see what Sirion had endured for the sake of his country at the hands of men who could also be called his countrymen. And even so, he had risked his life for the man responsible.
Struggling with his conscience, Andron ordered a couple of servants to bring food and hot beverages.
“Your Majesty,” Darian said, approaching him, “Our horses were left by the southern gate of the city. I hate to leave them in the elements any longer than necessary.”
Andron nodded and called to another servant. “Tell the stablemen that Prince Darian and their companions have their horses at the southern gate. See they are brought in and bedded down comfortably. Also see that everyone’s belongings are brought inside.”
In the next while, the food was brought and everyone ate hungrily, but weariness from the day and late hour was overtaking them. As soon as they were finished, Andron’s servants led everyone upstairs. The young, bright-eyed woman who had carried Makilien’s bag stopped in the middle of a long hall and motioned Makilien into a bedroom. Makilien glanced at her friends who were directed into rooms around hers. She was uneasy about sleeping alone in a strange palace, which only hours ago had not welcomed them. But she knew Halandor would never leave her in a dangerous position so she walked into the room.
The young servant lit a couple of candles, and the room was bathed in a warm glow. She turned to Makilien after she’d set her pack near the bed.
“I will go find you a pair of dry nightclothes and return shortly,” she said.
Makilien nodded and was left alone. When the door had closed, she turned in a circle to take in her surroundings. The room was a little smaller than her room at the palace in Minarald, but similar. Finally, her eyes rested on her pack, which looked soaked though she hoped since it was leather the inside would be dry. She knelt next to it and dug through her extra dresses. They were a bit damp so she pulled them out. In doing so, she found what she’d been looking for—her sketchbook. The pages were slightly crinkled from the dampness, but none of her sketches were ruined.
Makilien rose and laid the book and dresses on the bed. Tiredly, she unbuckled her belt, glad to be rid of the weight of her sword. She propped the scabbard up against the nightstand so the sword’s hilt would be within easy reach while she slept. Makilien had to smile to herself. A few weeks ago, she may not have thought of something so obvious, but thanks to Halandor and Torick and the rest of her friends, she was learning quickly how to always be on guard in this dangerous world.
Makilien proceeded to lay her dampened clothes across the small table and two chairs at the one side of the bed for them to dry overnight.
When the servant returned, she had a linen nightgown in her hands. “This nightgown is one of mine. I couldn’t find any other. It’s not fancy, but it’s dry.”
Makilien smiled, thinking of the rather poor family she came from. This servant’s nightgown was likely better than any she’d had at home.
“It will be just fine, thank you,” Makilien told her.
“Is there anything else I can get you?”
Makilien said no and thanked her again. When the young woman had left, Makilien locked the door and changed into the nightgown. She laid out her dress and pants and blew out all the candles. Getting into bed, she touched her sword once in the darkness and snuggled down under the covers.
Chapter Seventeen
Ambush
Makilien’s eyes fluttered open, and she put a hand to her mouth to stifle a yawn. Warm shafts of sunlight fell across the end of her bed. Everything was comfortable and peaceful, and the last thing she wanted was to get up. She knew time was too short for them to spend another night, and they would start back to Minarald right away, so it would be days before she saw another bed. Yet, she must rise or keep her friends waiting.
With a sigh, Makilien pushed back the blankets and slid out of bed. She stretched her arms, pleased that she felt no aches from using her sword, and walked over to the table where she’d laid out her dresses. All had dried out overnight. Choosing one, she changed from her nightgown and laced up her overdress. After braiding her hair, she packed the rest of her clothes and sketchbook and left the room. Outside in the hall, Makilien found Halandor waiting for her with a smile.
“I hope you haven’t been waiting long,” Makilien said.
“No, not long. Everyone has just started gathering in the dining room for breakfast.”
They walked side by side down the hall.
“Thank you, Halandor,” Makilien said suddenly.
He looked down at her. “For?”
“For taking care of me. I hate being a burden, but I really appreciate everything you’ve done.”
Halandor smiled. “You’re no burden at all.”
When the two of them entered the dining room, Makilien happily took in the sight of her friends gathered together. Torick turned at the sound of their entrance.
“Ah, Makilien, you’re awake. Come. We were just realizing we have not yet properly introduced you to Sirion.”
Makilien and Halandor joined their friends, and Sirion smiled kindly. Makilien found herself wondering how old he was. Being Half-Elf, he could be quite a bit older than she expected, but he still had a slightly boyish appearance and appeared no more than a couple of years older than herself.
“Makilien, I am pleased to meet you formally and to thank you. When you killed the goblin last night, you no doubt saved my life. I don’t think I would have noticed it in time.”
With a smile in return, Makilien said, “I’m glad I did notice. I didn’t have time to think, I just acted.”
“You fought well, Makilien, for your first battle with goblins,” Torick commended her.
She shrugged and turned her attention back to Sirion.
“I have reason to thank you as well. You saved me from the Shaike. I never realized it was behind me, nor do I think I could have successfully fought it even if I had.”
“I am happy I could assist you,” Sirion said as they shared another smile.
With everyone now present, they were served a filling breakfast, which they all enjoyed, but they did not linger. Time was against them, and every day brought them ever closer to the coming battle. As soon as they were finished, a servant showed them into the throne room where Andron, who had not joined them for breakfast, waited.
Wearing more kingly attire than he had been found in the night before, Andron stood near the throne, surrounded by his men, some in black and green soldiers’ uniforms, including Eredan.
“Good morning,” he said when they walked in. “I hope you all slept comfortably.”
“Yes, my lord, t
hank you,” Darian replied.
“Good. I apologize for not joining you at breakfast, but I had much I needed to discuss with my men. I assume you will be leaving today?”
“Yes. I want to get back to Minarald and my father as soon as possible.”
“And I will send my troops as soon as they are all gathered and prepared,” Andron told them. “I’ve made Eredan my general, as I should have from the beginning. He will oversee the army. I, myself, am taking two of my men and riding to Althilion to speak with Lord Glorlad. I personally want to assure him we want peace and are joining the fight against Zirtan.”
“My lord,” Gilhir stepped up. “I will be traveling home to Althilion. If it pleases you, I could join you and lead you to Silnar.”
“I would be honored, Gilhir, for you to lead me to your city.”
* * *
Dallorod seemed to have taken on new life. People crowded the streets, mostly soldiers preparing for the long march to Eldor. The men were eager to defend their homeland from Zirtan’s rule.
Working amidst the commotion, Makilien and her friends attached their replenished supplies to the saddles of their waiting horses. Looking up, Makilien spotted Eredan near the king, now wearing the uniform of a general as he spoke to Sirion. Though she couldn’t hear what was said, she watched Eredan put his hand on Sirion’s shoulder and smile kindly. Sirion said a few words and then turned toward their group. Coming to Darian, he said, “I will ride with you to Eldor. I want to be there should fighting begin before my uncle and Lord Andron arrive.”
“You are most welcome to join us, Sirion,” Darian replied.
Sirion turned to Gilhir. “Tell my uncle I am fine and I will see him in Minarald.”
“I will do that,” Gilhir assured him. The Elf looked to Darian. “Lord Glorlad will make great haste with our warriors.”
“We will be watching for your arrival.”
After farewells, Makilien and her party left Dallorod, riding west along the mountains, eagerly looking ahead to their planned arrival back at Minarald five days from now. They had been gone for a week, and it would be nearly two by the time they arrived. Anything could have happened in that time.
* * *
The first day of travel passed better than expected. They’d worried after the night’s rain the way would be muddy, but a warm southern wind dried the ground and they traveled fast, camping that night at the mouth of the gap in the mountains. They built a fire just as darkness fell and gathered around while supper was prepared.
As he worked, Torick looked across the fire at Sirion who was giving his sword a sharper edge.
“Do you want to tell us what happened in Dallorod? Did you go alone?”
Sirion glanced at him. “Yes, I was alone.”
“Were you allowed to see Lord Andron or were you imprisoned right away?”
“I was brought before Lord Andron, but Thardon did most of the talking. He convinced Lord Andron that I could be used to gain information about Althilion and Silnar.”
Sirion paused here, taking time to put his whetstone into a small pouch and return his sword to its scabbard. Finally, he looked up at Torick. “Once they realized I would not tell them anything, Thardon persuaded Lord Andron to allow him to do whatever he deemed necessary. I was put in a windowless cell at the prison with no light and left without food or water. I’m not sure how much time passed, but Thardon came to question me at least once a day, trying to get me to talk. This went on for maybe two or three days and then Eredan came to my cell. He brought me food, water, and a couple of candles. He did this whenever he could without Thardon's knowledge.”
Makilien couldn’t imagine going through what Sirion had faced. It gave her great admiration for him. She also admired what Eredan had done.
“He’s a good man,” Halandor commended Eredan’s actions.
“Yes,” Sirion agreed and added, “An answer to prayer.”
* * *
“Tomorrow evening we’ll reach Minarald,” Halandor said during their lunch break four days after leaving Dallorod.
The journey had gone well, but the thought of sleeping in a warm bed again made Makilien anxious to put an end to traveling for however long it would last.
While packing up their supplies once they had finished eating, Makilien noticed Antiro raise his head suddenly and stare off toward the mountains, his ears pointed forward and alert.
“What is it, Antiro?”
Makilien walked around him and looked up. Only fifty feet away and about thirty feet above them, she spotted an enormous bird, bigger than any she’d ever seen. Clearly some sort of vulture, its feathers were jet black and spiked around its neck, but its head was a featherless, sickly pink flesh. It had a sharp, gray beak and evil red eyes. Most alarming, it appeared just big enough to be able to pick Makilien up and fly away with her. The way it peered at her through its wide, unblinking eyes was most unnerving.
Antiro stomped his foot and snorted.
“Halandor,” Makilien called nervously.
As he came to her side, the bird moved its head up and down once and made a garbled sound in its throat before flying off.
“What was that?” Makilien asked, glad it was gone, but still unsettled.
“We call them death vultures.” Concern tinged Halandor’s voice. “They are a type of hybrid vulture bred by Zirtan and used as spies, but we rarely see them.” He glanced at the others who had gathered around. “Zirtan’s presence is growing.”
“We should be on our way,” Darian said. “The sooner we reach Minarald the better.”
They rode on with a growing apprehension. Makilien frequently glanced up the sides of the mountains and into the sky, afraid the death vulture would reappear. However, the evil bird did not show itself again.
As the sun sank below the mountain peaks, filling the gap with dark shadows, Makilien and her companions slowed their horses to a walk in order to pass through a narrow and rocky section. The gap was eerily silent at dusk, and the horses’ hooves echoed loudly on the rocky ground.
Just as the gap widened again, the horses in the lead, stopped abruptly, forcing the others to halt. They tossed their heads and stomped their feet, their nostrils flaring. Unease gripping everyone, they looked around for what had spooked their mounts, but no one saw or heard anything. They had no choice except to urge the horses on, who faithfully but reluctantly obeyed.
Tingles of fear crawled up Makilien’s back, causing her to shiver. She peered all around, thinking of the robbers Halandor had mentioned when they’d begun their trip. She hoped their numbers would dissuade any attackers.
After long, tense minutes, Makilien thought she caught movement out of the corner of her eye, but when she looked, she saw only dark shadows. Maybe her apprehensive mind was playing tricks on her. She tried to make herself believe that, but then Loron pulled his horse to a stop. “We’re being followed.”
Sirion affirmed it.
“Did you see something?” Darian asked, keeping his voice low.
Loron shook his head. “No, but I can hear something behind us and in the rocks on either side.”
Makilien’s mouth went dry. Her heart rate increased, her eyes darting from rock to rock as she wondered what could be hiding behind them.
“Do you know how many?”
“No.”
Darian took a moment to consider what should be done and drew his sword. The rest of the group followed his example and armed themselves with their weapons of choice. Makilien withdrew her bow, hoping to shoot any enemies before they could get close enough to her and Antiro for her to have to use her sword.
“Whoever is out there, we know you are there,” Darian called out, his voice echoing through the gap. “Show yourselves.”
His call was met with silence for several moments, but then the darkest shadows around them seemed to morph into solid shapes. One by one, four large, black mountain wolves appeared on both sides of them and five up ahead. Makilien knew there must be some behi
nd as well, but couldn’t take her eyes away from the ones straight ahead. On either side of each wolf, two goblins held chains attached to spiked collars around the neck of each beast, though how they might actually control the giant wolves was a mystery.
Vicious snarls echoed around them as the wolves bared their teeth. The goblins joined in with their hissing and shrieking.
Makilien gripped her bow so tightly her fingers ached. She took a couple deep breaths, trying to calm all the nerves that urged her to panic. If she wasn’t calm and alert, she might not react as quickly as she needed to. The main purpose of their group was to protect Darian. This gave her a sense of duty that managed to outpace her fear.
Suddenly, one of the goblins gave a bloodcurdling scream. “Attack!”
The mountain wolves lunged forward, dragging their chains, and the goblins charged behind them. Makilien yanked out an arrow and aimed at the closest wolf off to her right. Holding her breath to steady her shot, she released the arrow and it hit the wolf squarely in the forehead. It fell instantly and tumbled along the rocky ground. Makilien grabbed another arrow to bring down a second wolf. She glanced once at Darian to make sure he was all right and saw that Loron and the rest of her friends were careful to protect the prince.
After one final successful shot, Makilien was forced to drop her bow and draw her sword as a wolf sprang toward her and Antiro. The wolf snapped at Antiro’s foreleg, but Makilien swung her sword down across its muzzle. It bounded away howling. Another wolf crept up behind Antiro and tried to jump onto him but got one of Antiro’s large hooves in its gut and went flying.
By now, the goblins had reached the group. Two grabbed at Makilien’s dress to pull her from Antiro’s back. Makilien slipped her foot from the stirrup and kicked one of the ugly creatures in the face, swinging her sword at the other.