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“Again!” Jerin roared as his men challenged a group of dwarfs and fauns from Jolly Orchard in a mock sword fight. “Pay attention and don’t let them intimidate you.”
A few other creatures, fauns, centaurs, and a couple of ogres from Wilderland, watched from the fence line. Most of them were expert fighters after their battle for Wilderland and the Meeting Hall they’d built in the depths of the ancient forest.
DezPierre stood with the Wilderland creatures, his twig-like fingers wrapped around a staff with a round river stone tied to the end. At first, Jerin thought the stick was pointless until the little bother rapped him in the knee with it once.
“Yelling will not encourage your warriors, you daft, big, bully man.” He stepped forward, stopping between the two opposing groups. Offering a bow to the head dwarf, a stately fellow named Jamal, DezPierre asked, “With your permission Elder?”
Jamel returned the bow, sweeping off his yellow cap. “Absolutely, my friend.” He turned to the two fauns flanking him. “Peat. Flax. Allow Master DezPierre leave to explain what Sir Jerin wishes his men to learn.”
Both unsheathed their swords and stepped forward, their cloven feet clomping over the stony ground of the arena where Jerin held his practice sessions. Behind him, the Halls of Knowledge towered above, carved into the very cliffs surrounding the valley refuge. On the other side of the Semitamon Mountain peaks lay the town of Denovo. His wife, Carah, was there training those who wished to learn archery.
DezPierre turned to Jerin’s men and gave another bow. “You need to understand that creatures are stronger, swifter, and smarter than you.”
Jerin coughed and shook his head in denial at his men. Folding his arms across his chest, Jerin said, “I’ll admit you are stronger. And probably swifter for the most part. Ogres are kind of slow, and—” He placed his hand on his chest, nodding apologetically at Elder Jamal. “No offense, but so are dwarfs.”
Jamal’s head bobbed in agreement. “Slow but fierce.” He held up his ax. “Our height is an advantage in cutting a path through the enemy ranks.”
A round of laughter went through the bystanders.
He couldn’t argue with that rationale.
DezPierre shook his staff at Jerin. “Do not underestimate your opponent, stupid man! That has been your pitfall from the time you were an insignificant farm boy with a slingshot.”
Jerin scowled. He still had his trusty slingshot and considered it one of his more reliable weapons. “Please. The only reason you were able to wheedle your way into our town was because of your numbers and your sneakiness. You’ll not forget I took several of you down in the tavern my last night there.”
DezPierre came to stand right before him, his head tilted back, so they were eye-to-eye. Or rather eye-to-knee, but the hateful glare from the Okbold bored into Jerin. “Only because I’d given the order for none to hurt you, you brainless oaf.”
“I’ll ask you only once to stop calling me names.” Jerin jabbed his finger at the Okbold. “I’m a captain of this unit and expect to be treated accordingly.” He refused to be intimidated. His hand rested on the hilt of his sword in a warning.
DezPierre laughed. “Go ahead. Draw your weapon, human. You’ve been privileged with my restraint, but let’s show them how it’s done. Easy for you to bark your orders like a guard dog. Let’s see you in a real hand-to-hand skirmish. With me.” He growled out the last two words in such a way, that it sounded like wood sticks rubbing together.
“Fine with me!” Jerin snapped, his anger rising. He was ready to show that leafy blight his place once and for all. Always calling him names, putting him down. He’d apologized a hundred times for his treatment of the Okbolds who’d overtaken his hometown of Yarholm. But to no avail.
He strolled over the weapons stand and grasped the handle of a mace, then gave it a good swing to check its balance. He planned to put the little blight in his place, but he’d not turn him into kindling. Aly would kill him dead.
The fiery-tempered girl he was afraid of.
“Very well. Just you and me. Men, pay attention. This is how you take down a creature. After we finish here, I expect you to—”
DezPierre let out a piercing, nerve-tingling scream that sent the men scampering backward with their ears covered. He leaped forward, stick extended in front of him like a spear.
Jerin sidestepped, swinging his mace in a wide arc. Before the spiked ball could make contact, Jerin’s knees buckled. His feet flew out from under him, and he saw nothing but blue sky and clouds. His back hit the stony ground, sending his breath out of his lungs. Jerin gasped.
A slight weight landed on his chest. Jerin anticipated this and managed to dig his gloved fingers into the mossy hair poking from under Dez’s straw hat. He threw the creature one way and rolled over the other way to get back up on his feet. A blow landed in his gut, just below his breastplate.
Jerin fell forward, his face smacking the ground. He tasted blood.
Another blow landed on the side of his head, but not hard enough to knock him out. He feared the Okbold was still showing some restraint. Jerin pushed up onto his knees. Thin vines wrapped around his neck, yanking his head backward. The staff rested right under his chin. Sharp fingers grasped his head and jerked it slightly to the side.
“At this point, I’d break your stiff neck, Master Jerin. You’d be dead, and I’d move on to the next stupid human.” DezPierre shoved him away, springing off his back and landing on his feet. “Do. Not. Underestimate. Your. Opponent.”
Jerin spit out a stream of blood. Blasted Okbolds. He’d forgotten how fast they could be. Staggering to his feet, a couple of his men hurried to his side to help stabilize him. He shoved them away, then reached down to retrieve his mace, wondering how he’d talk himself out of this humiliation.
“Indeed.” He offered DezPierre a conciliatory bow. “I did forget how fast your kind is. That was a good example. Take note gentlemen.” His mind raced, as he tried to decide his next move. Should he try again and risk another beating or volunteer one of his men to have a go? Hard decision.
“Um, sir?” A smaller man, wearing armor that was much too big for him, raised his hand.
“Tibbons, right?” Jerin acknowledged him. He’d been reluctant to allow the Curians into his training sessions. They were so fragile and small in stature. Besides, they were skilled in books and inventing things, not wielding weapons. Though, he’d met a couple of them who’d proved themselves to be decent warriors. “You have a question?”
“Yes, sir. I can see now what not to do. What I’m curious about is what we actually should do.”
Good question. One Jerin didn’t have a ready answer to. He’d been so sure he could take down the little blight in a couple of wall-aimed swoops. He’d been so wrong.
From outside the group, someone else answered, “What you should do, Scribe Tibbons, is to respect your opponent. Pride will bring you to your knees, every time.” Issah stepped into the arena. Jerin recognized the glowing beings at his side as the Elderads Amici and Riyah.
“Do not look at your opponent as someone less than you. They’ve had just as much training as you. Only they have made different choices.”
“Wrong choices,” growled Jamal.
“Not to them.” Issah smiled. “They feel what they fight for is just as right and important as what you fight for. It’s not who is right that proves stronger. But rather who is more passionate about the one they serve. Passion will win over pride every time.” He turned to Jerin, his gaze taking in his dusty clothes and swollen lip. “I was hoping to pull you away for a short while to discuss our next move. Is now a good, um, time?”
Jerin blew out a long breath. “Absolutely, sir. Now is a very good time.”
Issah turned to the Jolly Orchard folks. “Jamal, would you and the twins join us, as well?”
Jamal turned to the fauns with a nod. They seemed pleased to be included.
DezPierre tugged on Issah’s blue cloak. “Sire, Sire, any word from my Miss and Master, sir?”
“Your Miss has safely landed in Many Rivers with Tarek. Both will remain there for the time being.” He started to turn to leave when Dez pulled yet again at his coat.
“Sir? What of Master Ethan, sir. Was he with his sister? May I go rejoin them now?” The glowering look the creature shot at Jerin caused him to roll his eyes. He wouldn’t mind if the pest left, either.
Issah considered the Okbold for a long moment before he offered a nod and, “I would rather have you partake in the council meeting, DezPierre. We may find fresh insight from your experience living in the outlying towns.”
DezPierre’s round eyes grew in size. “I would be honored, sir.” He fell in step with Jamel and his crew.
The Elder Dwarf patted his straw hat affectionately. “Come along my good fellow. Let’s skip on ahead and see if we can rummage up a few snacks to bring along. These council meetings can go on for hours, and a body needs sustenance to endure the ordeal.”
The fauns offered their approval, and before Jerin knew it, the whole lot of them were rushing toward the fortress. Issah smiled with a soft chuckle. “We’ll be well-fed, at least. Come Jerin, your wife will also be joining us.” As they reached the first series of steps, Issah asked. “Have you, by chance, heard from our friend Stitch?”
He’d only heard from Alyra who gave him a quickly scribbled account of what happened with Tarek. She let him know she probably wouldn’t be returning but hoped to see him soon in Many Rivers. The farm town, along with a few others like it, had planted extra crops and were in the process of harvesting to help feed the army Issah was gathering here in Denovo.
“No, sir. Aly said you were arranging a way for Stitch and Ethan to return home.”
“So I was. But when I sent a band of Logorians into that area to lead them to another portal, they were unable to locate Stitch and Ethan. It’s only been two days since Alyra arrived in Many Rivers. I’d hoped Stitch attempted to cross the plain and return to the original pond where I transported everyone, but so far, he’s not contacted anyone to let us know where they are.”
Jerin’s steps slowed. “I can try to write him, sir.”
“Lotari already has. Several times.” As they entered the sanctuary, Issah pulled back the hood of his cloak. “Why don’t you go ahead and follow the others, Jerin. I’m going to take another look at the fountain. Perhaps, they will be in a more accessible location this time.”
This bothered Jerin more than he cared to admit. What could that wily centaur be up to now? “Sir,” he asked before Issah moved out of earshot. “How far away was that city from Racah?”
The prince’s countenance darkened. “A good two or three day’s march. In the open. But close enough for us to clearly see the castle on the mountain.”
Jerin’s stomach turned to lead. Before he could say any more, Issah spun away and headed for the fountain. He also turned and hurried for the council room. Maybe he’d have a couple of moments to jot a note to Lotari. Surely Stitch wouldn’t.... He needed to know Lot’s thoughts. Hopefully, they’d not confirm his suspicion.
Stitch wouldn’t talk Ethan into trying to save Katrina. The lad was intelligent. He’d never go for such a scheme. But if the centaur abandoned the Messenger, he better hope the Dark Lord got hold of him first because Jerin would wring his foolish neck. And he’d be leading a long line of others wishing to do the same.
No, Stitch might have lost his pack. They might have had to fight their way back to the portal. But he would not enter that land without Issah backing him.
Jerin blew out a long breath. He’d write Lotari later. His suspicions were unfounded and unreasonable. What he needed to do was to focus on this meeting and getting his men ready to march. When he entered the council room, he found the table laden with sliced cold meats, fruits, and an assortment of bread and cheese. Oh, Shaydon bless the hands that prepared this feast!
He got in line behind the dwarfs. Granny Fila, with the help of her daughter, SueMelly, and a few other Denovian folks helped to load each plate with bowls of soup and other items.
“Weren’t no need to raid the galley, Sir Jerin. T’was already taken care of, bless them.” Jamal patted his round belly with a merry chuckle. “Bless them indeed.” He took the plate offered by none other than his sweet wife, Carah, who tossed Jerin a wink as she handed him two plates.
“I’ll join you shortly. Make sure you get me some of that apple pie.”
He leaned forward and pecked a quick kiss on her cheek. She always smelled like flowers and rosemary. After filling both plates, he took a seat at one of the long tables surrounding a slightly raised dais where several of the Curian Elders were gathered and whispering together along with the glowing Elderads. They all stood around a table that looked like a map of Alburnium. It reminded him of the one Katrina had fashioned in her library sanctuary. They took the table map which seemed to be made from animal skin and hung it up on the wall for everyone to see.
Jerin knew they’d used Kat’s map to update this one that had been started over a hundred years ago. A few of the towns had been marked out with an X and others added in fresh black ink.
Soon, Carah joined him about the same time Issah arrived. Jerin tried to read the prince’s expression, but Issah gave no sign that he’d found Stitch and Ethan.
Elder Rowel, the grand leader of the Curians, moved to the podium. His raspy voice carried over the crowd assembled. “Dear friends. Please finish your meal that’s been kindly provided by our hard-working staff. We will begin this meeting in a few moments.”
Jerin spotted Tibbons, who’d been on the training field with him moments before, entering the room. He’d changed back into his dark robes and carried a book and inkwell up to the stand where he took a seat at a small desk to the side of the stage.
“Better hurry and eat,” Carah nudged him playfully with her elbow. “You’ll need to keep up your strength for this. I have a feeling we’ll be in for a long afternoon.”
“Why would you say that?” he asked around a mouthful of bread and ham.
She scowled at him. “Swallow first!” With an exasperated sigh, she motioned toward the group of Wisdom Keepers. “From what I overheard, it seems some of the cities that promised to stand with us are starting to back out. They don’t wish to cause ripples when the condition of the land seems calm.”
“Seems calm?” Jerin huffed. “How can they think such—?”
“Since Darnel’s defeat here in Denovo, he’s been silent. He’s made no moves to gain more towns. People are beginning to think he’s given up and will be willing to settle with his mountain domain. They think we should just send word, ask for a treaty of peace and let everyone get on with their affairs. As I said, nobody wants to throw a stone that might ripple the calm waters.”
“That’s... insane. Surely, Issah won’t agree to that.”
Carah shrugged. “Guess we’ll have to see.”
“But we can’t abandon Katrina.” Suddenly, Jerin’s sandwich felt like he’d swallowed a whole tree. His stomach ached. He started to set down the remaining quarter but hated to waste good food.
“I heard another rumor.” She glanced over her shoulder then leaned closer to Jerin, her voice lowered to a whisper. “One of the younger Curian’s is sweet on Granny Fila’s granddaughter, Elissa. He came in the kitchen earlier saying they have spies that have infiltrated the black mountains. He believes these spies will be able to locate Katrina and help her escape.”
The last bite of the sandwich lodged in Jerin’s throat like a rock. He coughed and sputtered. “Spies? Who?”
Carah shrugged. “I’m not sure. But Issah confirmed the sighting while he was looking into the fountain pool. You know how he’s able to see things others can’t.” She shook her head with a scowl of dismay. “They reported seeing a centaur and man heading toward Racah. Both are presumed to be White Tree people.”
Jerin managed to swallow down the lump. It landed in his stomach like hot coals. “Oh no.”
