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“Sir Jerin, a messenger bird arrived for you. It’s waiting in the courtyard.” The lad named Thatch announced, his young voice ringing across the Denovo Meeting Hall’s main room. He wove through the sea of warriors, all gathered to hear General Marcel’s update. By the time he reached Jerin, he’d repeated his message three more times.
“I heard you, boy.” Jerin patted his rumpled head of dark brown hair. He wondered who would send him a letter by bird. Those he normally corresponded with used the Ledge-o-graph.
Jerin looked around the assembly gathering in the main room of the Denovo Meeting Hall. Marcel remained up in the library, still going over final plans with the other leaders. Maybe he should go retrieve the note now, instead of waiting. From the looks of things, the council wouldn’t meet for another half hour. “Show me where the bird awaits.”
He followed Thatch toward the back to a secluded courtyard, sheltered from the bustling town. In the center, one of the White Trees was in full bloom. The women had established a small garden with a variety of vegetables and flowers. The first time he’d come to this place, all the beds and pots were filled with dried weeds. Amazing how much had changed in the past couple of years.
A hawk sat perched in the tree, nibbling at one of the fruits. It bowed its noble head, revealing a rolled piece of parchment tucked inside its pack. Jerin took it, then plucked the fruit off the tree and offered it to the bird. When he saw where the letter came from, he understood the bird’s need for sustenance.
“It’s from my Pa.” Jerin unfurled the letter.
“You have a Pa, too, sir?” Thatch’s brows scrunched as if this was an astonishing discovery.
“Of course. He lives in Yarholm. Which is where I came from.”
Whatever interest the lad had dissipated like morning mist on a sunny day. Thatch wandered off, finding something else to occupy himself with.
“Hey!” The lad gave a joyful hop. “The pumpkins look ready to make pies. I should go tell Ma. She’s been waiting.” He raced off toward the building.
“Right.” Jerin’s gaze scanned his father’s updates on the town and who had pledged to unite with who, along with the progress on the Meeting Hall that was not only completed but undergoing expansion. The very last paragraph caught his attention and caused his heart to swell with pride.
We’re ready to stand with Issah. I planted extra crops, as I heard them folks in Many Rivers were doing. Some of the other farmers did likewise. My workers have brought in the bounty, and are dividing it for what we’ll donate to the cause and what the town needs to get through the winter months. Those, who stay that is. A good portion are ready and willing to leave with Issah. You’ll tell him that, won’t you? Tell him we’re here and not to forget us when he heads to Racah.
Really proud of you, son. Keep me posted on when it’s time to move.
A wide grin split Jerin’s face. What a change had come over his hometown. Sometimes he yearned to return and settle down there. But he also loved his life here, in Denovo. He enjoyed training new warriors to fight. He’d always been a natural, though with training he’d learned how to fight smart. Marya the Healer had been right. There was a big difference between being a soldier versus being a warrior. Time in Aloblase had shown him that difference. Now he fought for a purpose and had learned to choose his battles wisely, instead of charging in without thinking things through. He no longer swung his sword, hoping to strike something. His aim was true and sure, and he seldom missed his mark.
He tucked the note into his breast pocket and returned to the meeting that was finally underway. Marcel stood on the platform, a map pinned to the wall behind him. Carah sat along a middle row of benches. She’d saved him a spot.
General Marcel’s shoulders slumped. “I regret to announce that Tinti has withdrawn its offer of support. They sent word that with Darnel’s failure to overtake Denovo, they no longer feel that he is an imminent threat to them. And as we’ve confirmed, Conde has also turned their back on Aloblase. They now serve Darnel and are helping him create more turned creatures. Possibly ones more deadly than those we’ve encountered so far.”
Murmurs filled the room. Marcel waited for the noise to cease. “We’ve heard similar responses from others, as well. Though the towns in the Northern Semitamons have remained firm in their promise to stand with us. I now wait to hear if Issah feels we have a strong enough force to continue with our plans.”
More mumbling, some angry about the possible delay, others wondered if there wasn’t some wisdom in the idea of waiting.
Jerin was torn. Part of him wanted to march boldly forward and rid the land from the evil tyrant that had stolen so much from Alyra and now had Katrina in his clutches. Another part loved his life here and... no, he couldn’t allow himself to entertain such thoughts. They couldn’t leave Katrina.
A vibration came from the pouch he wore on his belt. He brought out his Ledge-o-graph and found a note to everyone from Stitch.
We’ve reached the foot of the Racan Mountains. The stench is horrible. I’m giving my book to Ethan and suggesting he bury it somewhere. We can’t be caught with anything from Aloblase. So, I’m asking that none of you write us until further notice. And please do not use the alarm to get our attention. One of us will write when we have something to report. I’ve given Ethan permission to use my book since I’ll most likely be unable to return to its hiding spot.
We’re going to find Kat and get her out of this horrible place, even if it’s the last thing I do on this side of Everlasting. I love you all. Thank you for taking me into your fold and allowing me to travel to Aloblase with you. I cherish you all.
Yours eternally, Stitch
Jerin’s breath caught. This sounded like a goodbye letter. A burning rose in his chest and to his throat. No, it wasn’t goodbye. The crazy centaur was always big on dramatics. Still, Jerin hoped they did find Katrina. Maybe if they found her first, nobody would need to stir up that hornet’s nest in the far west. Maybe Darnel could simply be contained.
If rumors were correct, and Darnel was part Being like the Logorians, would it even be possible to kill him? Perhaps containing the dictator was the best they’d be able to do.
Jerin caught his wife’s curious gaze and he passed her the journal. He tried to pay attention to the meeting as Marcel made marks over the towns that supported Aloblase and Xs over those who didn’t.
Was it truly so important to take over Racah? The mountain city lay on the border of Shaydon’s kingdom. So long as Darnel stayed in his homeland why should everyone else care, anyway?
Carah bit her bottom lip as she handed the book back to him. Jerin was sure her bottom lashes were glistening. With tears? That was silly. Stitch was simply being dramatic. He’d be fine there, Jerin was sure of it.
General Marcel stood back from the map. “Did I forget anyone? We’re still waiting to hear from a few towns in the south. Drakensburg has been on the fence, but I believe the Grand-Doyen Ebony plans to speak with them and bring them to our side.”
A chuckle ran through the gathering, causing Marcel to smile. “Right. Who in their right mind would argue with a four-hundred-year-old dragon?”
Jerin also had to laugh, remembering Alyra’s thrilling narrative of her encounter with the dragon ruler.
The laughter took the edge off his nerves. Of course, Stitch would be fine. They’d all been through some dangerous scrapes and had lived to share the tales with others. What great stories they had, too. One of them needed to sit down one day and write a book about it.
“What can you possibly be smiling about?” Carah asked, exasperation tinging her voice.
His smile faltered a moment.
From the platform, Marcel asked, “Anyone have news of any other towns that might stand with our quest?”
Not wanting to suffer his wife’s rebuff, he quickly hopped to his feet and waved his father’s note. “Yarholm pledges their support. They are even preparing provisions for the army and ask that Issah remembers them as he passes. Many wish to join the cause to defeat Racah.”
A cheer went up around the room. A cheer Jerin didn’t feel deep inside. Of course, if Marcel marched forth, if Issah declared the time had come to move, then Jerin wouldn’t hesitate a moment. Still, he wondered if they’d thought everything through. How, exactly, would they defeat Darnel? Was attacking Racah the best move? Some questions needed to be addressed. Questions he intended to ask soon as he was able.
“General, sir, I request a private word with you after the meeting. There’s another matter I need to discuss with you.”
Marcel gave a nod of understanding. The wise leader knew Jerin had secret communications with his friends. Issah had already mentioned Stitch and Ethan’s attempt to enter Racah during the last council meeting. He, too, seemed interested in what would come of it. But if this prompted Issah to move faster or slower, the Prince never let on in his actions or words.
The meeting ended with no definite decision. Marcel gathered all the information he could from those in attendance, then said he still waited to hear a word from a few more towns and villages. He called Jerin to follow him upstairs to the library. He planned to head over to the Halls of Knowledge after their talk.
Carah followed but kept quiet as Jerin repeated Stitch’s last note. “I suspect he’s being on the cautious side, General.” Jerin leaned on the edge of one of the oak tables and crossed his arm. Carah remained near the door, arms also crossed, her mouth set in a tight line, her face stony.
Marcel’s brows furrowed as if he remained doubtful. “The centaur and Messenger have undertaken a highly dangerous venture. Let us remain diligent in petitioning Shaydon for their safety. And success.”
“Sir,” Jerin needed to at least ask. “If they do succeed and Katrina escapes, will Issah still be determined to attack Racah?”
Carah shifted, making a small noise, but saying nothing out loud.
Marcel studied Jerin a long moment. “Why do you ask, son?”
“I’ve been wondering, with so many others dropping out? I’m wondering if maybe they’re right in their thinking.” The words tumbled out of Jerin’s mouth like rocks rolling down a steep incline. “I mean, sir, can we possibly hope to actually kill Darnel? He’s not human, like us, right?”
“Correct.”
“Then, sir, perhaps keeping him contained is the best we can do?”
Marcel strolled along the shelves of ancient books, running his gloved hand over the faded spines. “Is this what the other men are feeling, as well?”
“I don’t know, sir.” Jerin didn’t miss the quick shake of his wife’s head. She’d probably give him an earful later over this, but he had to know. Doubts were like termites, slowly eating away at the structure of his resolve. If he didn’t talk about it, then he’d be left wondering. “I’m only sharing my thoughts. I’ve not heard if others share them.”
Marcel gave a quick nod. “I appreciate your honesty. I do not have an answer concerning Darnel’s mortality. I’m leaving that part to Issah. What I do know is the people of that area and beyond are held captive. We learned that from young Tarek, have we not? His mother remains a prisoner there along with the Curian, Katrina.”
He let his hand drop from the shelves as he turned to face Jerin again. “Not to mention the nameless ones who have been enslaved and forced into service. Some have found a satisfactory life there. Others, I suspect, not so much. I know for a fact, that Tarek was not the only one looking for a way to escape.” He stepped in front of Jerin, his steel-blue eyes piercing. “So, the question we really must ask is if... as we live in our comfortable homes, enjoying our favorable lives... should we turn the other cheek and let, what do they say? Let sleeping dogs lie? Or do we keep pressing forward until everyone has the freedom to choose to serve Shaydon if given the opportunity?”
“Not everyone will choose to do so, sir,” Jerin said.
“No. They will not. But we’ve been called to set the prisoner free. To feed the hungry and help shelter the homeless. Those who seek help are the ones we are responsible for. The rest? Well, they’ll have to pass by Shaydon’s throne eventually and what happens then is between him and them, don’t you think, son?”
“True, sir. I hadn’t thought of it that way.”
Marcel moved toward the hidden door that would take him to the Curian fortress. “Thank goodness we serve a King whose thoughts are above our thoughts. He sees beyond our simple understanding. So long as we put our trust in him, and follow his ways, we’ll never get off our paths. That’s what’s important, Jerin. Keep that thought at the forefront of your mind and there will be no room for doubts and fears to grow.”
Jerin heaved a deep sigh, feeling a weight lift off his shoulders. “Thank you, sir. As always, you have a way of speaking with wisdom. I appreciate you allowing me to vent my concerns.”
“Any time, son. We’re all in this together and need to support each other in the good and bad. Good day.” He bowed to Carah, then disappeared through the passageway.
Jerin slowly sank into one of the straight-back chairs. The question of possible success or folly in their quest didn’t matter so much now. How had he allowed himself to sink into doubt so easily?
Carah pulled out the chair beside his and sat, her arms resting on the table as she stared toward the large bay window that overlooked Denovo.
Jerin couldn’t look at her. “You’ve been unusually quiet. You must be sorely disappointed in me.”
She shook her head, her eyes remaining fixed ahead. “How can I be? I’ve been wondering the same thing. We finally have everything we dreamed of. We’re training fresh recruits, here in one of the grandest cities next to Aloblase. We’re helping to reestablish it for King Shaydon. I’m hesitant about leaving, too. But...”
Her words trailed off for so long, Jerin finally glanced up at her to find a tear trickling down her cheek. “Stitch doesn’t think he’ll return to us. He’s going to get Katrina or die trying. I’m ashamed of myself for how selfishly I’ve been thinking. Hating the idea of leaving our home here. Of being back on the road. Traveling to fight a war nobody is sure we can win. Darnel will not be easily destroyed. He’s more powerful than most realize.”
“What do you mean, hon?” Jerin scooted a little closer to his wife, wanting to wipe away that tear, but more flowed in its wake.
“I’ve listened to Alyra. I saw the pain Tarek suffered trying to break free. While I was in Aloblase, I used to ask Stitch all kinds of questions he hated discussing. He’d put Racah behind him and never wished to turn back. Yet, that big dear heart has done the one thing he’s feared the most. He’s returning to his life of pain and suffering. He would have done this for any of us, you know? He loves us all so much.”
At first, Jerin wondered about himself, but then on second thought, knew without a doubt if he were a prisoner in Racah, Stitch wouldn’t hesitate to try rescuing him, too.
“I know.” His arm slipped around her shoulder as he pulled her closer to his chest. “And I love you, beautiful Carah. I’m so lucky to have you by my side. That is enough for me. So long as we’re together, I’ll be content.”
She patted his leg, her face brightening into a brilliant smile. “Then, my husband, let’s get back to training. We have a lot of work to do if we hope to be prepared for when Issah comes for us.”
