Truth: Makilien Trilogy - Book 1

  From the ballroom, Makilien explored on, finding a couple of smaller sitting rooms and a study. Finally, she came to the library, bigger than what she’d seen in the dark at Lord Andron’s palace. Too many books and scrolls to count filled the shelves. If only she could read them all and obtain their knowledge.

  Quietly circling the room, she came to the large fireplace at the far end, and her eyes were drawn up to the artwork hanging above the mantle. It was a beautiful painting of a magnificent lion. On the lion’s head sat a golden crown. Seven silver, eight-pointed stars formed a perfect arch above the lion. Dropping her eyes lower, Makilien noticed under the lion’s two front paws was a staff—a shepherd’s staff.

  She gazed at the painting, mesmerized. Something was familiar about it. Then she realized it was the emblem on the uniforms of Eldor’s soldiers and on their city’s flags. But what was its meaning and importance to the country? That was what Makilien wished to know.

  When she moved on, her thoughts lingered on the painting for a long time after. It struck her as something of great significance.

  A short while later, Makilien’s name sounded from down the hall. Turning, she spotted Vonawyn.

  “Good morning,” the Elf said brightly.

  Makilien greeted her with an admittedly weak smile.

  Vonawyn’s expression turned to one of concern. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes.” Makilien shrugged. “I think I’m still tired from the journey and a little overwhelmed by what’s been happening.”

  “I understand,” Vonawyn comforted. Her smile returned. “I came to find you and let you know breakfast will soon be served.”

  The two of them walked together toward the dining room.

  “Vonawyn,” Makilien said along the way, “you told me you are almost seventy-two years old. Has anything like this happened before in your lifetime?”

  Vonawyn nodded. “Eldor has been attacked once before since I was born, though not quite like this. Many have tried to conquer us, but never Zirtan himself.”

  That didn’t give Makilien a lot of confidence in her weakened emotional state. Trying to take her mind off it, she said, “I was looking around the library this morning. I saw the painting there, the one of the lion, and realized it was the emblem on Eldor’s flags and soldiers’ uniforms . . .” She paused and Vonawyn nodded in affirmation. “I was wondering what it is . . . I mean, what is so important about the lion that it would be Eldor’s emblem?”

  “A lion is a symbol of Elohim,” Vonawyn explained. “That is why the lion is wearing a crown. Elohim is the King of kings.”

  “What do the seven stars mean?”

  “They represent the seven people who first came here. They journeyed to find a land where they could serve Elohim and not be persecuted for it.”

  All of it made sense to Makilien except for one thing. “What about the shepherd’s staff?”

  “Elohim is also seen as the shepherd of His people.”

  This turned Makilien’s mind immediately to Meniah and the gentle way he cared for his flocks. Could it really be the same with Elohim and people?

  Contemplating this, Makilien followed Vonawyn through the door of the dining room where they took seats among their friends.

  Breakfast was nothing like the day before. Everyone was serious and subdued. Even Elandir and Elmorhirian were not their mischievous selves. No joking, no teasing Torick, and no laughing. Mostly the men spoke, still discussing the city’s defenses.

  After eating, Makilien and her friends left the palace once again. They still had much to do to get the outer city evacuated and supplies moved.

  * * *

  Makilien passed through the city gate, leaving behind the quiet, almost deserted streets. She was exhausted after many long hours of work and welcomed the cool evening breeze blowing across the plains. She needed a break away from the grim atmosphere of war preparations, so she’d left the city, upon Halandor’s gentle urging, to visit Meniah.

  Turning west, she soon came upon the meadow and found him. As she approached, he turned to face her, a small lamb in his arms. One of the lamb’s front legs was streaked with blood.

  “What happened?” Makilien asked.

  “This little one cut herself on a rock,” Meniah answered. “I was just about to bandage it. Would you like to help?”

  Makilien nodded and came closer.

  “You can hold her while I clean the wound.” Meniah transferred the little creature into her arms. Makilien held her close, feeling the warmth and the steady rise and fall of the lamb’s sides. Despite being wounded, the lamb was perfectly calm.

  Meniah wet a cloth with his waterskin and cleaned the cut. As he wrapped a bandage around it, Makilien said, “She’s so small compared to the other lambs. Do you think she’ll make it?”

  She remembered several occasions where some of the smallest lambs her family raised had died or been rejected by their mothers. It made her unusually sad to think of this little one meeting the same fate.

  “She’ll be all right,” Meniah assured her. “With care and nurturing, she’ll grow and become stronger. I won’t overlook or discard her because she’s smaller or weaker.”

  Makilien looked up, meeting his eyes. At that moment, those words didn’t seem to be for the lamb, but spoken right into her heart.

  “You won’t?”

  Meniah gave her a smile full of gentleness and love. “No.”

  His eyes switched back to the lamb, and he pet it gently on the head. Makilien set the lamb down, and they watched it scamper off. Suddenly, Makilien didn’t feel quite so burdened by the cares of the day and the future.

  “Would you like to help me count the sheep?” Meniah asked. “I count them every morning and every evening.”

  Makilien smiled at him. “I’d love to.”

  “Why don’t you start on that side of the meadow,” he told her, gesturing.

  Thankful for this diversion, Makilien crossed the meadow and counted each sheep and lamb. She loved it out in this quiet and peaceful openness.

  A short time later, she met up again with Meniah.

  “How many did you count?” he asked.

  “Seventy-three.”

  Meniah was pleased. “Good. Two-hundred thirty-four in total. That is all of them.”

  The two of them began walking toward one of the large boulders.

  “What happens if one is missing?” Makilien asked. “Would you go look for it?”

  “Always.”

  “Even for just one?”

  Meniah nodded. “Even for just one.”

  At the boulder, they sat and Makilien looked off toward the city. She felt protected here, next to Meniah, as if surrounded by an invisible shield. She wanted to stay here, away from what was coming.

  “Why does there have to be war?”

  Meniah leaned forward a little, resting on his staff as he too looked at the city. “Everyone has it inside themselves to be selfish and greedy, to try to please themselves and want more than what Elohim has given them. Not all give in to that, but it is what fuels those who follow Zirtan. They are driven by a hunger for power and pleasure for themselves.”

  Makilien sighed and shook her head. “I still don’t understand why Elohim would allow evil like that. Why can’t He just make people good?”

  “Because He has given people the freedom of choice—to either choose Him and what is right, or to choose to be against Him. If He controlled the way people believe and act and love Him, would that truly be love?”

  Makilien thought this over for a long moment. “No, I guess it wouldn’t be.”

  “And that is exactly why, Makilien. He wants true love from His people, not forced love.”

  Still thinking on this, Makilien realized it was growing dark. She should get back to the city, but she was reluctant. The empty streets would be eerie now in shadows, especially walking alone. She wished she would have thought to go sooner.

  Beside her, Meniah rose. “It’s getting l
ate. Come, I’ll take you back to the palace.”

  Makilien looked up at him in wonder. Could he know what she had just been thinking? But it didn’t matter. She welcomed the invitation.

  “Thank you.”

  * * *

  Early the next morning, Indiya and Emaril returned. All hoped for good news from Lord Glorlad and Lord Andron as they met in the courtyard.

  “How close are they?” Darand asked.

  “They are about a day behind Zirtan’s army,” Emaril answered. “Lord Glorlad and Lord Andron said they would travel into the night to try to make up time. They may arrive here shortly after Zirtan, but not before.”

  Darand nodded slowly. “We will just have to hold out until then.”

  “How are preparations coming along?” Indiya asked. “It looks like you have the outer city evacuated.”

  “Yes, we finished last night, though some people may still be on their way from the villages. I sent Carmine and the griffons to warn those in Zirtan’s path.”

  “If there is anything more we can do to help, my lord, we are willing,” Emaril said.

  “You and Indiya should get some rest. We will all need it,” Darand replied grimly. “All we can do now is wait.”

  * * *

  “They will arrive tomorrow.”

  Silence followed Carmine’s report. It was just what they’d expected, yet the short time before the enemy would arrive was sobering.

  However, Darand gave a strong nod. “We’ll be ready for them.”

  “There is a strange thing, my lord,” Carmine went on with a tone of uncertainty.

  “What is that?”

  “It seemed most of the army was pulling back, sending only a small force on toward the city.”

  “How small?”

  “About a thousand goblins and Shaikes.”

  Darand lowered his brow in confusion. “With seventy-thousand on their side, why would they only send a thousand?”

  “It is a mystery to me as well, my lord,” Carmine said. “I could find no reason for it.”

  Turning to a nearby guard, Darand said, “Send for Meniah, Nirgon, and the captains.”

  The guard nodded and hurried off while Darand turned back to the dragon. “Now, Carmine, you should get some rest. Let Indiya and Emaril know I may call upon them later to check the progress of Zirtan’s force.”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  Carmine flew off to the aviary and everyone went inside to the throne room. Curious to know what would be decided about the small force marching their way, Makilien and Vonawyn stood off to the side to listen. When everyone Darand had summoned arrived, he informed them of Carmine’s report and asked for their thoughts.

  “It is strange for them to send so few when they clearly have the advantage in numbers,” Nirgon agreed. “Surely they know we are better prepared than to be defeated by so small a force.”

  “If not, then let’s show them,” one of the younger captains spoke up eagerly. “Six hundred riders could easily defeat them.”

  Nirgon dismissed him with a shake of his head. “We could just as easily defeat them from the safety of the city with less risk of casualties.”

  “But that would look weak and cowardly,” the captain argued. “Let’s ride out boldly and show Zirtan we are not going to just sit here and let him walk in.”

  “I don’t advise it,” Meniah said calmly. “Zirtan is a deceiver. He will use all form of trickery and deception to accomplish his purpose. This could easily be a trap.”

  “If I may speak freely,” the captain said with an edge to his voice and an air of arrogance. “Are we all going to listen to a man with no military experience?”

  “Rollan!” Nirgon snapped. “Your words are those of a fool.”

  Rollan hung his head embarrassed by the rebuke, but a bitter look smoldered on his face. Makilien glanced at Meniah. His expression had not changed, but the sorrowful look in his eyes concerned and disturbed her.

  “We will not march out against this army,” Nirgon declared firmly. “Whatever its intent, we will face it here.”

  Darand agreed. “Now, we must make sure the men are armed. That army could be here by tomorrow morning.”

  “My soldiers are ready,” Nirgon informed him, “but the men we have recruited from the villages are not.”

  “Then we must prepare them. Take them to the armory and make sure they are properly equipped.”

  Nirgon nodded, and he and his captains turned to leave. As the group thinned, Makilien worked her way to Halandor’s side.

  “Halandor,” she said, a little uncertain at first.

  He turned to face her. “Yes?”

  “I’ve been giving this much thought lately and . . . I want to help fight,” she told him. “I know I don’t have as much experience as any of you, but I’ve gone through so much since I left Reylaun, and I didn’t come this far just to sit and wait to learn the outcome of this battle.”

  Halandor’s eyes narrowed a little, in conflict and reluctance. “Are you sure?” Makilien knew he was afraid for her. “It will be unlike anything you can imagine.” He warned her. “It will be terrible, and it will be very difficult to stay alive.”

  Makilien did hesitate, but then nodded firmly. “Yes, I’m sure.”

  “All right.” Halandor called for Vonawyn to join them and said to her, “Makilien is going to fight. Will you help her prepare?”

  Vonawyn nodded and motioned for Makilien to follow her. They walked over to Elandir and Elmorhirian.

  “Will you two get the trunk I brought with me and bring it to Makilien’s room?”

  Upstairs, inside Makilien’s bedroom, the two Elf brothers set a small trunk on the floor. Vonawyn opened the lid and reached in to lift something out.

  “This was made for me, but I’ve never used it. I suspected you might want to fight so I brought it along because I knew you’d put it to good use.”

  Hanging from the Elf’s hands was a shiny, silver chain-mail dress. Makilien marveled over the expert craftsmanship of the piece.

  “It’s amazing,” she breathed. “Are you sure you want me to use it?”

  Vonawyn smiled. “Of course. I want you to still be alive at the end of this battle.”

  Makilien smiled in return.

  “You should try it on to make sure it fits properly,” Vonawyn suggested.

  Makilien took off her overdress and slipped her arms through the sleeves of the chain-mail. Vonawyn laced up the back with leather lacing. The chain-mail dress was much like her regular dress in its shape. It had a close fitting bodice and the skirt was split into four separate panels. The only real difference was the sleeves were only half-sleeves.

  Moving her arms to get the feel of it, Makilien was surprised the dress was lighter than she was expecting.

  “Does it fit well?” Vonawyn asked.

  “Yes,” Makilien answered. “It’s not as heavy as I thought it would be.”

  “We Elves have a special way of constructing the rings that makes them lighter than normal chain-mail,” Vonawyn explained.

  Makilien took the chain-mail off again, and Vonawyn laid it on the bed. Reaching back into the trunk, she pulled out a pair of black leather vambraces. A beautiful Elven leaf design was tooled into them. Vonawyn also withdrew a pair of matching greaves to fit over Makilien’s boots and protect her shins.

  After each of these items were laid out in preparation, Vonawyn looked Makilien in the eyes, and her voice lowered solemnly. “These will all do well to protect you, but your best defense will be your sword.”

  Chapter Twenty

  The Sacrifice

  Darkness had fallen well over an hour ago. The palace was quiet and Makilien knew she should sleep, but she was wide awake. She looked absently through her sketchbook, nearly full now. Only a few more sketches would fit. She turned to the sketches at the beginning—sketches she’d drawn before she left Reylaun, of her family and Aedan. She smiled wistfully, missing them tonight especially. It pained he
r that she’d only been able to say goodbye to Aedan and Leiya.

  Finally, Makilien closed the book and set it on the nightstand, but her restlessness did not diminish so she got up. Quietly, she left her room, careful not to disturb anyone who might have been able to find sleep. Wandering the quiet palace was better than sitting idly and alone in her room.

  As she neared the stairs, Makilien noticed the door to one of the large second story balconies was open and someone stood at the rail. Stepping closer, she realized it was Meniah. She knew he was staying at the palace, but she had not expected to find him here. Before she could speak, he turned to her and smiled.

  “Makilien.”

  “I’m sorry if I disturbed you,” she apologized.

  “No, not at all,” Meniah assured her. “Please, come join me.”

  Eagerly, Makilien walked out. “I’m having trouble sleeping tonight,” she admitted.

  She looked out at the city. A couple lights twinkled nearby, but the city was mostly dark. Looking up at the sky, she saw no stars. The dampness of rain was thick in the air and sent a shiver across her arms and down her back. She sighed, thinking of one of the things, or maybe the one thing, that had kept her awake.

  “I want to fight, but . . . I’m afraid, when the time comes, I won’t have the courage to really do it.”

  “You are a brave young woman, Makilien,” Meniah comforted. “It took courage to leave your home when you had no idea what you would find. You will find the courage to fight your battles.”

  Makilien hoped he was right. She looked up at him when he said, “Elohim has great plans for you, Makilien.”

  She blinked in surprise. “For me?”

  Meniah nodded, but Makilien hung her head.

  “I don’t think I have the faith to believe in Elohim.”

  “But He always believes in you.”

  Makilien sighed. “Even if that is true, why would Elohim use me? I’m so small, and I don’t even know if I can believe in Him. I’m not great like General Nirgon or any of my friends.”