Truth: Makilien Trilogy - Book 1

  Torn, Halandor looked over his shoulder, back the way they had come. Had Makilien not been with him, he would have gone back to try to find and rescue his friend, but he couldn’t abandon Makilien now. Nowhere was safe until they reached Eldor. Conflict disquieted his mind. Makilien would probably be safe with Laena until he could come for her if he went after Torick. But could he reach Torick before his friend fell into Zirtan’s hands? Four days had passed already.

  “Is that the forest?”

  Makilien’s question pulled Halandor back from his dilemma. He looked ahead at the dark line on the horizon.

  “Yes, Eldinorieth, one of the largest forests in Dolennar.”

  “What kinds of creatures live there?”

  “Many different kinds.”

  “Dangerous creatures?” Makilien asked warily.

  “Some are dangerous.” Seeing she wanted to know more, Halandor continued, “There are trolls, mountain wolves, and now with threat of war from Zirtan, goblins too.”

  “Do you think we’ll see any?”

  “Most stay deep in the forest. Last time Torick and I were through there we didn’t see anything.”

  Makilien hoped not to see anything either. As she thought about the nasty beasts, Halandor again considered his choices. Dusk was almost upon them. It was too late to get far if they turned back, so he decided they would make their camp in the forest that night, and then he could decide which direction to choose in the morning.

  The trees cast long shadows across the road when they arrived at the edge of the thick, dark woods. A short ways in, Halandor stopped.

  “We’ll camp here tonight.” He looked to the right. “The river is just that way. We can catch some fish for supper.”

  Makilien followed him a short distance into the forest, and they reached a clear, sparkling river, wider and deeper than the one flowing through Reylaun. Leaves floated south along its slow current, and Makilien wondered where they would end up.

  Halandor put his pack down and pulled out a wound up line with a hook tied to the end. He looked at Makilien.

  “Have you ever been fishing?”

  Makilien laughed a little. “More times than I want to remember.”

  Halandor pulled out another line and handed it to her. They walked over to an old rotten log and rolled it over. Underneath, worms and bugs scurried around in a panic. Makilien and Halandor each put a worm on the end of their hooks and went to the riverbank where a huge willow tree stood whose roots grew into the river.

  Halandor lowered his line in on one side and Makilien lowered hers on the other. Not many minutes later, Halandor pulled out a large, fat trout. Shortly after, Makilien too caught one. It turned out to be much more fun than in Reylaun. In another little while, Halandor had caught two more and Makilien one more, plenty for their supper.

  On the way back to their campsite with their catch, Makilien watched Halandor pick a few plants she guessed were for seasoning the fish. Back at the road, she helped him set up their camp for the night. They gathered wood and cleared a spot for a fire. As soon as it burned well, Halandor cleaned the fish and put them and the plants in a pan from his pack to fry over the flames. All through the process, Makilien watched closely.

  “Halandor, could you teach me?” she asked after a while.

  “Teach you what?”

  “How to survive out here? How to find food, what plants are edible, and how to hunt?”

  Halandor smiled. “I’d be glad to.”

  Quite happy, Makilien looked down and her eyes snagged on the sword Laena had given her. “There’s something else too.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Well, Laena gave me this sword, but . . . I don’t know the first thing about using it. With the creatures we could meet, I want to be able to defend myself.”

  “We can start on it as soon as we’re finished eating,” Halandor told her, to which she smiled in thanks.

  A short time later, Halandor dished up the fish and handed a plate to Makilien. The trout was some of the best fish Makilien had ever eaten. Much tastier than any fish she’d had in Reylaun. The herbs Halandor seasoned it with gave it a mouthwatering flavor.

  Just before they had emptied their plates, something caught Halandor’s attention, and he looked back up the road.

  “Someone’s coming.”

  Makilien couldn’t hear anything at first, but listening closely she finally picked out the sound of a horse coming in their direction.

  “Could it be the guards?” she asked in alarm.

  “I don’t think they’d come this far, and there is only one horse,” Halandor reassured her.

  He stood, resting one hand on his sword as he waited for the rider to appear. Even just standing there he appeared intimidating, for which Makilien was now glad. She too got to her feet and picked up her sword. Though she couldn’t use it she wanted to appear as though she could defend herself. They waited for a few moments more until their eyes picked out movement in the dark. At last, the rider reached the light of the fire. Makilien’s mouth dropped open.

  “Torick!”

  He smiled down at her from atop his stallion. “Well, well, you made it.” Dismounting, he came closer. “Halandor,” he greeted, nodding at the other man.

  “Torick, it’s good to see you’re all right,” Halandor said, wonderfully relieved at the sight of his friend. “Makilien said you’d been captured in Reylaun.”

  “I was,” Torick acknowledged with a nod, “but I escaped.”

  “How?” After seeing the way the guards had come after her and overhearing their conversation, Makilien could hardly imagine how one would escape once captured by them.

  “I haven’t lived to be as old as I am without having a few tricks up my sleeve,” Torick told her with a smirk. He paused, but he could see how much she wanted him to elaborate. “The guards in Reylaun transferred me into the hands of Shaikes, and I was able to escape them.”

  “What are Shaikes?”

  “Beings in the service of Zirtan. They’re brutes who are hired to kill mercilessly, and they do their job well, but fortunately, most are not very intelligent.”

  “Did you learn anything from them?” Halandor asked.

  “Little we don’t already know. They talked of Zirtan still at his fortress up here, but beyond that, nothing.”

  “At least he is still preparing. It gives us more time to do the same.”

  Torick agreed.

  “Is he really going to attack?” Makilien joined the conversation once more.

  “Yes, that much is certain,” Halandor answered. “We just don’t know when.”

  “Are you prepared for him?”

  “As prepared as we can be . . . we could use more men.”

  “Maybe if the men of Beldon would open their eyes and see that if Eldor falls, they’ll fall, we’d have more of a chance,” Torick grumbled.

  Halandor only nodded in silent agreement.

  “What’s Beldon?” Makilien asked.

  “The country south over the mountains from Eldor,” Halandor answered.

  “They don’t want to help?”

  “No.”

  Torick unsaddled and tied his horse to a tree before sitting down with Makilien and Halandor. Halandor offered him the leftover fish, and Torick accepted graciously. After he’d taken a few bites, he looked at Makilien.

  “So tell me about your journey thus far,” he requested. “When I went back to Reylaun to get my horse, I talked briefly to your friend, and he told me you had left.”

  “Aedan?”

  “Yes. You caused quite a stir in that little village of yours. It’s the only reason I was able to get back in and get my horse out. The guards were shorthanded and very distracted.”

  As Torick ate, Makilien told him all about her escape and her adventures in Andin.

  “You’re very fortunate Halandor was at the Black Stag,” Torick said. “Those men likely as not would have killed you.”

  Makilien shivere
d at the prospect. “I know. That is why I want to learn to defend myself.”

  “Would you like to start now, before it gets too late?” Halandor asked her.

  Makilien nodded and they rose. She slid her sword out of its leather scabbard and, though it hadn’t been sharpened in some time, the steel blade was flawless. Halandor pulled out his own sword and, facing Makilien, he taught her the basics of swordplay. It was difficult, much more so than Makilien had expected. She hadn’t thought much of the weight of the sword when she was just holding it, but when she was actually wielding it, it felt much heavier.

  For well over an hour, they went slowly over different stances, attacks, and defenses until Makilien thought she would never be able to remember everything. At that time, they decided to call it quits for the night. Sitting down heavily by the fire, perspiration made Makilien’s hair stick to her face and neck.

  Torick looked at her with a knowing smile. “How do you feel?”

  Taking a deep breath, Makilien blew a wisp of hair away from her face. “Exhausted and like my arms are going to fall off. I don’t know how I’m ever going to learn, but if this is what it takes, I’m willing.”

  “Don’t worry, in a few days you’ll get used to the weight of a sword and start to get familiar with what I teach you,” Halandor promised her as he too sat down.

  I hope so, Makilien thought to herself.

  A short time later, the three of them unrolled their blankets for sleeping. By now, Makilien could barely stay awake long enough to spread hers by the fire. She’d never walked so much in one day before in all her life, and between the incident at the inn and the training she’d done with Halandor, she was in desperate need of rest.

  “Do you want me to watch first or do you want to?” Halandor asked Torick.

  “You’ve had to walk all day. I’ll watch,” Torick told him.

  Makilien couldn’t help but be glad neither of them said anything to her about standing watch. Lying down, she curled up in her blanket next to the warm fire and fell almost instantly to sleep.

  Chapter Seven

  The Forest

  Dawn was just breaking as Makilien woke from a refreshing night’s sleep. She opened her eyes to find Halandor and Torick already up and busy. Halandor sat preparing their breakfast by the fire while Torick packed their supplies onto his horse. Pushing back her blanket, Makilien sat up.

  “Good morning.”

  Makilien smiled at Halandor. “Good morning.”

  She rolled up her blanket and tied it again to her pack.

  “Bring your pack here, Makilien, and I’ll put it with the others,” Torick told her.

  Makilien brought it to him, and he secured it to his horse’s saddle. By now, Halandor had breakfast ready for them. While they ate, Makilien contemplated all that had happened in the short amount of time she’d been away from home. She’d already learned so much, yet her desire for knowledge was far from satisfied. So many questions and wonderings still filled her mind. One question in particular jumped ahead of the others, and she looked at Halandor who sat across from her.

  “Halandor, why did you and Laena react to my name?”

  Looking up from his food, Halandor answered softly, “Makilien was my daughter’s name.”

  “Oh,” Makilien murmured. She had never considered that possibility. She hesitated. “What happened to her?”

  “She was killed . . . by goblins.” Halandor fell silent for a moment, memories, still quite fresh, stirring in his mind. “Makilien and I lived in the Elven city of Elindor. My wife died when Makilien was just a small girl. A little over a year ago the city was attacked by goblins. We held them off for as long as we could, but there just weren’t enough of us. The city was overrun. Those who could fled. Before we could make it out of the city, Makilien was shot. It was too late by the time I found help.”

  Makilien couldn’t imagine how horrible it must have felt for him to lose the two people closest to him. “I’m sorry, Halandor,” she said with a deep remorse. “I’m sorry if the name Makilien is painful for you to hear and use again.”

  Halandor shook his head, and the faraway look in his eyes disappeared. “No, it’s all right. I do not mind. It is a lovely name.”

  “Yes, a lovely name with a lovely meaning,” Torick added.

  Makilien looked at him curiously. She did not know names had any meaning. “What does it mean?”

  “Touched by God.”

  Makilien sat silent at these words. They gave her an inexplicable feeling inside as if in anticipation of some event. She pondered it for the rest of their short meal, and before long they had packed up the last remnants of their camp and were on their way.

  Makilien’s curiosity soon returned as they traveled the well-worn path through the dense and wild, but beautiful Eldinorieth. With Torick now part of the group, Makilien had questions particularly for him.

  “Torick, what were you doing in Reylaun anyway?”

  “Spying for the most part. Halandor and I came north to gather whatever information we could about Zirtan’s whereabouts and his plans.”

  Mention of Zirtan sparked another question. “In Reylaun, you told me Zirtan was evil itself, what did you mean by that?”

  “Just what I said, Zirtan is evil,” Torick told her in his usual matter-of-fact, no-nonsense way. “He is the source of evil throughout Dolennar.”

  It shocked Makilien to learn he had so much power. “Is he a god?”

  “No, not at all. There is only one true God—Elohim, the Creator of Dolennar. He created everything and everyone.”

  “Even Zirtan?”

  “Even Zirtan, and then Zirtan, in a quest for power, turned against Him.”

  “Is Zirtan more powerful?” Makilien asked.

  “Than Elohim? No,” Torick answered, shaking his head.

  Makilien cocked her head in confusion. “Then why doesn’t Elohim stop him?”

  “He will someday, but this is all part of His plan. We may not understand it now, but one day He will stop Zirtan and evil will be no more.”

  “But if He could stop Zirtan, why wait and let evil things keep happening?” Makilien asked, a bit of indignation sharpening her tone.

  “Because He is God, and He knows and sees what we cannot,” Torick told her, sounding sterner. “He knows every tiny thing that has happened from the beginning of Dolennar until now and what will happen in the future. All we can see is what is around us, but He sees the whole picture in its entirety. Adversity can help people grow and make them stronger. Like I said, He has a plan in all that happens.”

  Feeling she’d been reprimanded for her indignation, Makilien was contritely silent as she considered what Torick so adamantly believed. Finally, she looked up to ask more about Elohim, hoping to gain better understanding.

  “What about the evil creatures like Shaikes? Did Elohim create them?”

  This time Torick let Halandor answer. “Yes, but he did not create them to be evil. They chose that. You see, a long time ago, Shaikes were not hostile. They kept to themselves in the area we now call the Black Lands. Centuries ago, Zirtan came to them pretending to be the god they had made up to worship. Most believed him, and those who did not were enslaved or killed. The majority of Shaikes today are born into Zirtan’s service and don’t have knowledge of how they lived in the past.”

  “So how does Elohim feel about us and other creatures who are not in league with Zirtan?”

  “Elohim loves everyone more greatly than we can even comprehend. He gives guidance and protection to those who have trusted in Him.”

  Makilien took a moment to think on this. When she’d first considered Elohim, she’d thought of Him only as some all-powerful being who just controlled the world around her, but Halandor made Him sound more like a loving father who would love her and protect her if she let Him. But still, it confused and overwhelmed her.

  “Why would He bother? We must hardly seem of any importance.”

  “That is as far from t
he truth as it can be,” Halandor told her gently. “We are very precious to Him. He is a great artist, and just as an artist loves and enjoys his creations, so does Elohim.”

  Referring to Elohim as an artist had a powerful effect on Makilien. She considered herself an artist as well. She could sketch the most realistic and breathtaking drawings that awed whoever she shared them with. Makilien took great pride in them and loved every one she’d sketched. Now she could understand, in a way, how Elohim felt about His creation.

  “Then He loves me,” Makilien realized out loud.

  “Yes, He does,” Halandor confirmed. “And He wants you to love and trust Him too.”

  Turning her head to look at Halandor’s face, she asked, “Do you love and trust Him?”

  “With all my heart,” Halandor answered with deep conviction.

  Makilien looked to Torick who nodded in agreement with Halandor.

  “Have you seen or heard Elohim?” Makilien asked them.

  “Not in the traditional sense,” Torick answered.

  “Then how can you be sure of Elohim and His love if you have never seen or heard Him?” Makilien wanted to know.

  “We have faith in Him and believe even if we do not see,” Torick told her more quietly than usual. “Evidence of Elohim is all around us in His creation. And we have scrolls and books that have been written by men and Elves He chose and inspired to write His words. Through them He does speak to us, and we have faith in His words.”

  Can I have that kind of faith? Makilien wondered. She had grown up with so many uncertainties and lies that now all she wanted was to be able to see before she believed. She wondered what made Halandor and Torick so sure and believe so deeply and hoped sometime perhaps she could understand.

  * * *

  As evening approached hours later, the threesome had just begun to discuss where to set up a camp when a faraway echo reached Makilien’s ears. She stopped.

  “Did you hear that?”

  Halandor and Torick nodded as they too halted. All three waited to see if they could hear it again. This time, Makilien was able to identify the noise—a shrill, panicked whinny of a horse coming from somewhere deep in the forest to their left.