Truth: Makilien Trilogy - Book 1

  Distracted, she did not realize the wolf Antiro had kicked had crept around to the other side of them. Lunging, it grabbed a mouthful of her dress and yanked. With a cry, Makilien toppled over and fell hard on her side. Antiro whinnied angrily and spun around. He reared up, forcing the wolf back just before it would have pounced. This gave Makilien time to scramble to her feet. Catching the wolf off guard, she thrust her sword into its shoulder. It yelped and limped off, disappearing into the shadows.

  Holding her sword defensively, Makilien turned, searching for any more attackers, but she realized all the wolves and goblins were either dead or retreating. Breathing heavily, she lowered her sword and let her muscles relax. With one hand, she rubbed her aching hip, but was too pleased with the outcome of the fight to really notice the pain. No one else was injured, and she had survived another, more dangerous fight against Zirtan’s minions.

  Dismounting, Halandor came to her side. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes, I am. A few bumps, but nothing to worry about.”

  Halandor bent down to pick up her bow and handed it to her.

  “Thank you.” Makilien strapped it back to her quiver.

  “We need to find a place to camp before dark,” Torick said.

  “There’s that small hill ahead,” Halandor suggested. “It would be a good place to defend ourselves should there be another attack.”

  Darian agreed. “We’ll camp there.”

  Makilien stepped up to Antiro, limping just a little, as they prepared to ride on. She pulled herself up into the saddle. Turning Antiro around, she noticed Sirion move his white and gray paint mare next to her.

  “You’re sure you are all right?” he asked, noticing her limp.

  “Yes. Just a little sore from falling,” she said, appreciative of his concern.

  The two were slowly becoming good friends. Sirion was a quiet young man, almost reserved at times. Though he was always concerned with the wellbeing of their group, he didn’t divulge much about himself, and his youthful appearance contradicted the wealth of wisdom and experience Makilien saw in his eyes. In a way, he reminded her of Aedan, and she liked that.

  * * *

  Just as the last bit of sunlight faded away, they stopped on a small hill in the middle of the gap, which they had passed earlier in their journey. They had just enough room at the top to set up camp. A fire was made quickly, for which Makilien was thankful. She hated being in the dark and not knowing what had become of the surviving goblins and mountain wolves.

  Supper was prepared and everyone talked idly around the fire.

  “You fought well again, Makilien,” Torick said. “You’ve learned to handle a sword fast. Your skills with a bow have also impressed me once again.”

  Makilien smiled contentedly.

  “Where did you learn to use a bow?” Sirion asked.

  She looked at him across the fire. “My father taught me so I could go hunting with him. Though we never did get to go, I practiced almost every day until it became something I did just to pass the time. Still, I’m not nearly as skilled as an Elf.”

  “I wouldn’t say that.”

  “Well, maybe my aim can compare, but I’ll never have the speed of an Elf.”

  A howl in the distance ended the conversation. Others joined in. The horses snorted and shifted nervously, and the hair on Makilien's arms rose at the terrible sound. She rubbed the scars from her last nighttime encounter with mountain wolves. It was one thing fighting them when she could see them clearly, but altogether different having them attack in the dark.

  “I think it would be wise to set up double watches tonight,” Halandor advised.

  “Yes,” Darian agreed. “Halandor, you and Makilien can take first watch. Torick and Sirion take second, and Loron and I will take third.”

  As they ate their supper, the howls continued, each one drawing closer. Later in the night, no one had yet fallen asleep, finding themselves restless and preoccupied by the dry grass crunching at the bottom of the hill. Makilien ran her anxious fingers up and down the hilt of her sword and wished she could see better in the dark.

  This went on for quite a time until Loron stood and peered down the hill into the darkness. He put an arrow to his bowstring and drew it back. When he released it, a yelp echoed, and they heard the sound of the wolves running off. The only sound that remained was the crackling of their fire. Makilien breathed a sigh of relief, hoping the wolves would not return.

  By now, the watch she would have shared with Halandor had passed, though no one had slept. As Torick and Sirion prepared to keep watch, Halandor told Makilien to get some rest. She lay down on her bedroll, as did the others, but she was restless, and despite her fatigue, could not fall asleep.

  A cool breeze blew down from the mountains causing Makilien to shiver. With it came unwanted doubts, which crowded into her heart. They were doubts she’d been plagued by for weeks and always ignored. But, for the past few days, she found them intensifying. She didn’t feel like she was truly a part of her group of friends. They were each the closest friends she had besides Aedan, yet still she felt like an outsider. A painful and empty loneliness settled in her heart even with all of them around. Tears pricked her eyes, and she closed them tight, trying to force the unpleasantness away, but it just seemed to increase the harder she tried.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Preparing for War

  Even in the dark, Minarald’s iron gate was the most welcome sight Makilien had seen in a long time. After leaving their camp at dawn and riding almost nonstop, she couldn’t wait to reach the safety and comfort inside.

  The gatekeepers were swift to open the gate after Darian announced their arrival, and the stablemen were glad to care for their horses. They trudged wearily to the palace where Darand was waiting for them in the throne room, having received word of their arrival. Lord Elnauhir was also present when they entered. Both were anxious for information.

  “Welcome back,” Darand greeted them. “I am very thankful to see all of you are safe. And Sirion, it is good to see you.”

  “And you, my lord,” Sirion replied.

  Focusing hopeful eyes on his son, Darand asked, “What news do you have?”

  Darian smiled. “Lord Glorlad and Lord Andron are on their way as we speak.”

  Darand and Elnauhir sighed with the immensity of their relief.

  “Good,” Darand breathed. “Very good. Was it difficult to convince Lord Andron?”

  “You could say that,” Darian said in amusement, and he gave a brief account of their journey and adventures and how peace had been restored between Althilion and Beldon.

  Soon after they had returned, Makilien was happy to see Vonawyn and the rest of her family enter the throne room.

  Elmorhirian elbowed his brother in the ribs and said, “I told you they were back.”

  Not to be outdone, Elandir hurried forward, tossing over his shoulder, “And I told you they would have Sirion with them.”

  Joining the group, he clapped Sirion on the back as he greeted him. Makilien noticed the slightest wince of pain cross Sirion’s face. Apparently, so did Torick.

  “Can’t you two be a bit less enthusiastic?” he scolded. “Do you want to injure him further?”

  Elandir and Elmorhirian’s faces sobered immediately, almost comically so.

  “You’re injured?” Elandir asked Sirion.

  “I’m fine,” Sirion assured them.

  “What happened?”

  “Who needs a beating?” Elmorhirian quickly joined in.

  Makilien had to chuckle to herself at the way the two Elves treated Sirion like their little brother. Sirion glanced at her and, by his expression, she was sure he was a bit embarrassed by their fussing.

  “No one. It’s all been resolved,” he tried to tell them.

  “Oh, don’t give us that,” Elandir said.

  Sirion crossed his arms and insisted, “I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”

  “We will find
out eventually,” Elmorhirian persisted.

  “Perhaps,” Torick cut in, “but tonight Sirion and the rest of us need sleep. We were ambushed by goblins and mountain wolves before making camp last night and, needless to say, barely slept.”

  To Elandir and Elmorhirian’s dismay, Lord Darand agreed and called for servants to show Sirion to a room. The rest of the group gladly went to their own bedrooms.

  * * *

  Makilien hummed happily as she descended the stairs on her way to the dining room in the morning. A comfortable night of sleep had helped dispel the gloomy mood she kept finding herself in.

  Entering the dining room, she caught Torick saying, “. . . precisely why he didn’t tell you last night. What do you two plan to do? Attack Lord Andron when he arrives?”

  Elandir and Elmorhirian sat at the table with Sirion and Torick, and Makilien was just in time to see Elmorhirian grin mischievously in reaction to Torick’s question. Torick narrowed his eyes as the Elf’s grin widened.

  “I’m not going to have to have Lord Darand assign a guard to you, am I?”

  Elmorhirian gave him a look that suggested Torick would have to do just that.

  “I’ll keep an eye on him, Torick.”

  The voice came from behind Makilien. She looked over her shoulder and smiled at Vonawyn.

  “At least one of Lord Elnauhir’s children is responsible,” Torick muttered.

  “It’s fun to be irresponsible sometimes,” Elmorhirian teased impishly. “You should try it.”

  The younger people all laughed, and Torick had more than a hint of a smile on his face. It amused Makilien to see Elmorhirian and his brother were the same here as at home.

  As Makilien and Vonawyn took their seats at the table, Elandir looked across at Makilien and said, “We heard you were stabbed.”

  “And almost died,” Elmorhirian chimed in.

  “Yes,” Makilien acknowledged, “but luckily Torick found me, and Meniah saved my life.”

  “The information she learned and lived to tell saved Lord Darand and Darian,” Torick told them. “Gornath would have killed them and disappeared before we ever knew what happened if Makilien hadn’t overheard his plans.”

  “It seems you have a talent for saving people,” Sirion murmured with a sparkling smile.

  Makilien found herself blushing a little and didn’t know what to say as Halandor entered the room, followed closely by Lord Darand and the rest of their friends. Once everyone was present, Darand prayed and their breakfast was served.

  It was a lively meal, thanks to Lord Elnauhir’s sons, with much laughing and tale telling. Because of this merry atmosphere, it was especially alarming when one of the palace guards rushed into the room.

  “My lord, Indiya has returned, and Emaril and Carmine are with her.”

  For a moment, complete silence and dread settled over the table. The arrival of all three dragons from their patrol along river could only mean one thing—Zirtan’s army was on its way.

  Darand pushed back his chair and rose as did the others.

  “Where are they?” the king asked on his way to the door.

  “The courtyard, my lord.”

  Exiting the palace, Makilien was greeted by a magnificent sight. Indiya stood with two other, slightly larger male dragons. One was covered by dark green scales the color of emeralds while the other was a deep scarlet like red maple leaves.

  As Darand and the group neared, the red dragon stepped forward and bowed his head.

  “Your Majesty,” he said in a deep, resonating voice.

  “What news do you bring, Carmine?”

  The dragon’s voice brimmed with urgency. “We’ve spotted Zirtan’s troops. They are traveling swiftly and crossed the Claron River a day and a half ago.”

  “When do you believe they will arrive here?”

  “No more than four days.”

  Only four days. So little time before the enemy was at their door.

  With some hesitancy Darand asked, “How large a force is it?”

  “At least seventy-thousand.”

  The grave look on Darand’s face put a terrible churning in Makilien’s stomach. She did not know how large a force Eldor possessed, but clearly it was not a match for Zirtan’s. However, determination hardened Darand’s features as he went on questioning the dragon.

  “What do they have for siege weapons?”

  “Battering rams and catapults, my lord.”

  “No siege towers?”

  “We did not spot any, but they may just be farther behind.”

  Darand nodded and gave orders to the men around him. “Send for Nirgon. We must begin evacuating the outer city immediately. I also want to speak to Arphen and the other griffons.” He turned back to the dragons. “Do you need rest or can you still fly?”

  “We are ready to fly wherever you need us to, my lord,” Carmine answered.

  “Good. Indiya, Emaril, I want you two to fly to the gap. Lord Glorlad and Lord Andron are on their way here. Find out how soon they will arrive and warn them Zirtan’s army is on its way.”

  “We will leave immediately,” Emaril replied, his voice younger and not quite as deep as Carmine’s.

  He and Indiya spread their wings and launched into the sky, flying straight southwest. When they were out of sight, Darand told Carmine, “I want you, Arphen, and the other griffons to warn the people in the villages that will be in Zirtan’s path. If they do not leave right away, they will not get out in time.”

  “Yes, my lord. We were able to warn some of the villages along the way, but not all.”

  Soon, Arphen and seven other griffons flew into the courtyard and Nirgon arrived. Carmine informed them of what he and the other two dragons had seen. Once the griffons had been given their instructions to warn the villages, they and Carmine flew away, traveling east, and only men and Elves remained in the courtyard.

  “We must start the outer city evacuation and gather all the provisions into the inner city,” Darand told Nirgon. “Four days is not much time.”

  Nirgon nodded. “I will inform my men and have them begin.”

  As the general turned to leave, Torick said, “We can help move provisions.”

  “Yes,” Darand said, “store them wherever you can find room.”

  Everyone seemed to be heading off in the direction Nirgon had just gone. Feeling lost in the commotion, Makilien hurried up beside Halandor and walked along with him.

  “Why are they evacuating the outer part of the city?” she asked.

  “Lord Darand wants everyone behind the inner wall in case the worst should happen and Zirtan’s army breaches the outer wall,” Halandor explained. “He wants all provisions within the inner city in case of a prolonged siege.”

  Makilien nodded in understanding. “Can I help move provisions?”

  “Certainly.”

  For a moment nothing more was said, but then Makilien asked, “Why is Zirtan coming from the east? I thought he would be coming from the north.”

  “He has long had control over the North, but has more recently taken over all the lands east of the Dûbar Mountains. Now he has a fortress on the eastern border of the country of Rhûnland. That is where he has gathered his army. It gives him a more open and direct route to Eldor.”

  * * *

  The city was in chaos as word of Zirtan’s army and the order to evacuate spread. The soldiers, however, worked to keep things orderly, but Makilien sensed nervousness and fear from the people as they left their homes, carrying only what belongings they truly needed. The people of the inner city were very generous, making room in their houses for all their friends and neighbors as families streamed in through the inner gate. Besides these people, a slower, but steady stream from outside the city. These were the people of the villages, all seeking safety within the city walls.

  Makilien worked alongside her friends at one of the storehouses, loading food into wagons loaned by the people. Crates of fruits and vegetables, sacks of grain and flou
r, kegs of fish—all were loaded into the wagons. It was tiring work, which left little time for communicating. Makilien was left entirely to her own thoughts and speculations of the impending doom marching their way. The expression on Lord Darand’s face when he had received the number of Zirtan’s troops kept replaying in her mind. Would all this turn out to be a hopeless struggle? Makilien wanted to believe it wouldn’t, but hope seemed to be waning throughout every part of the city.

  With her energy and spirits drooping by the hour, it was a great relief to Makilien when they returned to the palace for supper. Everyone was tired and quiet, and no one seemed to notice her despondency.

  Drained and quite hopeless, Makilien went straight to her room after she was finished. Though it was still early in the evening, she dressed in her nightclothes and got into bed. For a long time, she tried to talk herself out of her gloomy mood, but sleep took her before she was successful.

  Chapter Nineteen

  A Strange Thing

  Rolling onto her back, Makilien rubbed her forehead. She’d woken in the night with a terrible headache, and even after returning to sleep it lingered. She sat up, wincing at how sore her shoulders were after the work she’d done, and looked out the window. The sky was gray, making it difficult to tell what time it might be.

  Makilien slid out of bed and dressed. She sighed, feeling reserved this morning and alone inside.

  Downstairs, she stopped in the doorway of the throne room where the men were speaking. Darand and Darian had gathered with Nirgon and Meniah, and most of her friends. Several soldiers, captains by the look of their uniforms, also stood with them talking strategy. Not wanting to disturb them, Makilien turned away, deciding to look around the palace until breakfast was served.

  Passing the dining room, she found the ballroom, a magnificent open space. The blue tinted marble floor was glossy smooth and gleamed from the light shining in through a wall of tall windows. It brought a smile to her face to imagine what a dance might look like. They occasionally had dances in the town square in Reylaun for weddings and such, but Makilien knew they would never compare to a dance here at the palace. But her smile soon faded. Would there ever be a chance for celebration to fill the room once Zirtan attacked?