❖ Chapter 24 ❖

“HOW IS THE boy?” asked Jesdoril anxiously, as he stood outside the healer’s tent located near the center of the camp of the refugees from the Darus Kingdom.

“My sister tends to him personally. She has been with him all night and most of the morning,” said Captain Settrellidur. “If anyone can help him, it would be her. Mersarahtina has experience with…special children.”

“Her daughter. Is the girl a wizard too?” asked Jesdoril.

“A wizard? No. She has had no such training in performing magic. But, she is touched by something. Maybe it is some kind of magic. Or maybe it is from the Father of Heaven. I do not know. But it does give my niece the…ability to see things. And has been very helpful to us at such a time.”

“Like seeing our arrival?” Ventured Jesdoril.

“Exactly. She saw the coming of a boy and his companions,” replied the captain.

Suddenly, the tent flap opened and out stepped Lairchavion. The boy blinked at the bright afternoon light.

“Lair!” exclaimed Jesdoril. “Do you feel all right?”

“Lairchavion, old knight. My name is Lairchavion,” complained the boy groggily. “Now, you shall have these people calling me by your silly nickname.

“Good, he appears to be his old pleasant self,” said Jesdoril laughing.

Lady Mersarahtina emerged from the tent looking completely exhausted, but satisfied. And she should be, thought Jesdoril. He had worried that the boy may never come out of the magic induced fever. The bone dragon had been such a mighty and terrible creature of evil, and he guessed that the effects of such an encounter were not easily reversed…if at all.

“Lady Mersarahtina,” said Jesdoril to the weary healer. “Thank thee so much. I had thought he might not make it.”

“I am just glad I could offer some help,” replied Mersarahtina. “His ailment was quite perplexing and very serious.”

“I used a protection spell that I am positive would have eventually drawn me out of that trance,” said Lairchavion. “So, there was no reason to fuss so. And I am sure that even while I was in the trance I was trying to use a—”

“Just say thank thee to the nice lady for saving your hide, Lair,” scolded Jesdoril with a stern look.

“But I…”started the boy wizard. “All right, thank thee, Lady Mersarahtina. Your healing potions did speed my recovery.”

Then, Lair glanced over at Jesdoril with a well-was-that-all-right look on his young face.

“Come, Lair, I have set up a tent for you near mine,” said Jesdoril.

Lady Mersarahtina just chuckled softly.

As he and Lair trudged back to their corner of the camp, Jesdoril surveyed what they had to work with here as far as a military force goes. He had been told by Captain Settrellidur that there were over a thousand knights, about three thousand foot soldiers and pikeman and about five hundred archers. It was a sizable force for a small expedition, but for an assault on the fortified city of Palzin, it was woefully inadequate. The rest of the inhabitants of the camp were farmers, townsfolk, and villagers who had been forced to flee the invasion army of the Venordaladians. Some of them could be outfitted to play the part of soldiers. But would it be enough to draw forces from Gravloc’s main invasion army bivouacked in southwest Palzintine? He felt they needed much more than this. He knew that the boy that walked beside him would play an important part in preoccupying and countering the sorcerers who were protecting the city, but, as impressive as the boy’s defeat of the bone dragon was, would he be enough to convince them the city was in danger? To instill an illusion of danger, that was their main goal.

“I really could have beat the trance with more time, you know,” said the boy wizard, as they both walked.

“You were screaming out crazy things and burning up just yesterday, Lair,” said Jesdoril. “You have great power within you. But even you have limits. And you need to learn them and to trust others to help you. To let them help you. Remember, you are not alone in this.”

As the two of them passed a large tent, its flap flew open and a young girl holding several scrolls, a spyglass, and a large wooden box came stumbling out of the tent and smacked square into Lairchavion, knocking them both into the mud.

“Now, that be a sight,” said Jesdoril of the two preteens tangled up at his feet.

“What in the…will you let go…stop. I cannot get free, do not move. Let me get up first…,” stuttered Lairchavion, irritated as he tried to scramble out from under the girl. When they were finally free of each other he glared at her. “Just who are you, clumsy girl?”

“Manners, Lair,” warned Jesdoril.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry. My fault,” said the girl as she tried to quickly untangle herself from Lairchavion. And she began to gather up her scrolls, which were now spilled out everywhere. “Without my seeing glasses, things for me are all fuzzy, and I trip over stuff, over everything.”

“And over people, people who are minding their own business,” grumbled Lairchavion.

“Yes, and over people too. Sorry,” sighed the girl, as her arms were quickly filling up with jumble of scrolls. “I am lost without my seeing glasses.”

Seeing glasses? What are seeing glasses?” asked Lairchavion, suddenly intrigued.

“Here, let us help you, young maid,” offered Jesdoril, and he bent down to help pick up scrolls. He gestured for Lairchavion to do the same.

“Yes, the glass guildsmen, Carvldar, made them for me,” said the girl and she stood up, and retrieved a small item from the folds of her simple gown. The item had two thin glass disks that were attached by a wire working of copper. The girl put them on her nose and looked around, and then at them. “It is you! You are the boy. The boy in my vision.”

“Vision? What vision?” asked Lairchavion, and he looked up at Jesdoril, puzzled.

“Thou art Mersarahtina’s daughter, art thou not?” asked Jesdoril.

“Yes, she is my mother,” answered the girl. “I am Felicidara. But everyone calls me Felly for short.”

“Nice to meet you, Felly,” said Jesdoril. “I am Sir Jesdoril.”

“Let me see those seeing glasses as you call them,” said Lairchavion as he reached towards the girl’s face to take off the glasses. “They are a marvelous thing.”

Jesdoril grabbed the boy wizard’s hand to keep him from removing the girl’s glasses.

“This is Lair,” said Jesdoril. “He is from Ardenon.”

“I hate that short name,” grumbled Lairchavion. “My real name is Lairchavion. And I am the…”

“I rather like the name Lair,” said the girl. “It suits you better.”

“Exactly what I think,” agreed Jesdoril. “This is one smart girl.”

“But that is not my name,” said Lairchavion exasperated.

The three continued to round up all of Felly’s spilled items and carefully loaded her up again.

“You may take them off my nose,” Felly said to Lair.

“What?” asked Lair.

“My seeing glasses. You can take them off my nose if you like,” she replied still holding everything. “Go on, I shall not snap at thy fingers.”

Gingerly, Lair took off the glasses from her delicate nose and examined them closely. He put the seeing glasses over his own nose and peered out of them. Lair shook his head as if the glasses hurt his eyes and quickly took them off.

“Amazing…you must be blind as the wolverines back home,” said Lair as he returned the glasses carefully to her nose. “And you can see clearly with this instrument?”

“Yes, very clearly, strange boy,” replied Felly, sounding amused. “Thank thee, Sir Jesdoril. You must excuse me, I have much reading to do.”

And without another word, Felly turned and walked on towards the center of the camp.

Jesdoril noticed that Lair stared after the girl for a long time.

“Amazing…” said Lair quietly half to himself as he still watched the girl disappear into the bustle of the camp. “…and she loves to read too.”

“Better watch out or that young wolverine might eat you alive,” said Jesdoril.

❖ ❖ ❖

“Wake up, wake up, you sleepy head,” said a chorus of urgent voices all around him. “You must go and hear her. She sings the words! She sings the words we need!”

Lairchavion opened up his eyes, and there before him stood all of his beings of First Magic, the whole gang of them, each one looked exactly like him and many of them trying to shake him awake.

“What time is it?” wondered Lairchavion.

“Time to go, silly one! Time to go!” the magic said in unison, shaking him even harder.

“All right, I am coming,” grunted Lairchavion, and he rolled out of his small cot.

The boy wizard threw his heavy cloak around him hurriedly, for it was nippy in his sleeping tent. He saw puffs of smoke come out of his mouth as he followed dozens of his magical beings down a narrow path between the tents. They were in such a hurry that Lairchavion almost had to run to keep up.

“Slow down!” hissed Lairchavion grumpily. “How much farther anyways?”

From the gray light in the sky, he surmised that it must be still very early in the morning. Who could be up at such an awful hour as this, he wondered.

“Just ahead, silly one,” said his magical beings in one eerie voice, and then they simply vanished.

“I hate it when you do that,” complained Lairchavion finding himself alone in a small clearing with tents all around him.

Shush! And just listen, came their voice in his mind.

So, he stopped and listened. At first, he heard nothing. Determined to find out what his magic wished him to hear, for they had never steered him wrong before, he closed his eyes and listened once more. This time he quieted himself completely and concentrated on nothing but his hearing. He heard someone snoring in a tent nearby, and the rustling of an unsecured flap on another tent. Then, he heard something different, something wonderful: a soft, beautiful voice singing an eerie song in a strange tongue. He opened his eyes and looked this way and that trying to figure out from where the barely audible voice was coming. Then, he knew. A small tent set apart from the others. Slowly, he crept up to the tent and as he did the faint song became louder and clearer. It was…lovely and sung in a flowing language he did not recognize; yet it did seem familiar to him somehow. Caught up in the moment he opened the tent and went inside. The voice suddenly stopped.

“What are you doing here?” demanded the voice, angrily.

Lairchavion realized he must be standing in the tent of the young Darus girl, Felicidara. She was standing in her sleeping gown and was holding a brush in her hand. A twegtin candle burned before a small mirror. The room was filled with old scrolls and handwritten books. It was a wonderful place.

“I…your song. It…it drew me here,” stammered Lairchavion. “Tell me about it at once. I need to know everything I can about it.”

“You are pushy, boy,” said Felicidara, and she started to search around the table with the mirror on it.

Lairchavion saw her seeing glasses on a nearby table, picked them up gently and handed them to her.

She put on the glasses and looked at him for a long moment, seeming to judge whether he really wanted to know about the song or was perhaps teasing her.

“Why do you wish to know?” asked Felicidara, suspiciously.

“They…I think it is important,” said Lairchavion frustrated with always having to explain everything to people. Why did they always need to know his motives? Is it not enough that he said it was important?

“Very well,” she said, and she sat upon her bed. She motioned for him to sit upon a small chair by the table near her. “It is part of a long poem I found written in a scroll called the Lover’s Army.”

“A poem? What is it about?” asked Lairchavion. The title was odd. It sounded nothing like a weapon or something of magic he could use against the sorcerers in Palzin. And right now that was the only thing of significance, the only thing he was supposed to use all his powers to achieve.

“Do not scowl,” she scolded him. “It be a pretty poem of two young lovers. One day the girl was abducted by an evil king and taken to a far away land. And her suitor chased after her.”

“What? Lovers? What kind of---.”

“Lair! Stop interrupting me, please,” reprimanded Felicidara.

Lair put down his head and nodded for her to continue. He knew he was led to her for a reason, even if that reason now seemed foolish. Whether he wanted to or not, he must hear the whole story.

“Good,” said Felicidara, sounding happy that she was in charge. “Now, her suitor rode for forty days and forty nights straight until he arrived at the kingdom of the evil monarch who had captured his true love. When the bad king heard that the suitor had come for his beloved, the king sent his army upon the suitor. When the lover saw the army coming for him, he began to sing a song.”

“The song you were singing?” asked Lairchavion, hoping he did not offend her by the question.

“Yes, the very same,” replied Felicidara, sounding pleased at his deduction. “When the suitor had finished his song, the army of the evil king had been vanquished. The evil king then fled, leaving his entire kingdom behind to never be seen again. The suitor was then named king by the people who were happy to be rid of their evil sovereign. And the lovers were wed. Is that not a romantic story?”

“Romantic? I guess. But what has it to do with us? With our mission? With my duty?” wondered Lairchavion aloud. “May I see the scroll?”

“Yes, I have it here,” said Felicidara, and she went to the other side of the room to a small chest. Out of the chest, she extracted a weathered scroll, which she gingerly carried over to him. “Be careful, please, Lair. It is quite old. And I am quite fond of it.”

“I shall,” promised Lair.

He liked the sound of his new short name when it came from her lips. Fastidiously, he unwound the scroll and began to scan its contents. Most of it was written in an older form of the language they all spoke, so he could read the story easily. He had a great deal of experience with reading and deciphering old works. And the girl was right. This was a very old work. As he read, the thought occurred to him that he would normally have berated anyone who would have suggested that he would have been anything but gentle with an old scroll. This girl was somehow different, but for the life of him, he could not figure out why. He continued reading until he encountered the strange song. The language it was written in was of nothing he had ever seen. It looked completely foreign to him. So why did it seem familiar when she sang it?

“I…I cannot read the song,” said Lair almost astounded at saying those words. “Do you know their meaning, Felicidara?”

“Felly, Lair,” corrected the girl. “My friends and family know me by that name.” She placed a hand on his arm and looked at him through her seeing glasses. “Be my friend, Lair.”

“Ya…yes, Felly,” replied Lair feeling heat rising in his cheeks. “Do you know what the song says?”

“Sadly, no.” was her reply. “This may sound strange, but when I sing it I feel a power flow through me. I like the feeling, so I sing the song.”

“But how do you know the melody? There is no notation of how the words are to be sung,” wondered Lair.

“I just…feel it,” was all she could say.

“Could…could you sing it again…for me?” Lair asked timidly.

“Yes, Lair,” she said. “For you.”

“Thank thee, Felly,” said Lair.

“Cara sara dor veronn. La berondon zee con la ma seez gitvel ocsee mon fel ohayon fel. Unyeha suzmera sara. Wee unla…”

“No. Stop. It means…it means nothing to me,” said Lair, frustrated. He got up and paced back and forth. Why can he not understand this song? He was the greatest wizard Ardenon has ever had. But he felt like a silly child. Unable to read, unable to understand. He stopped and realized she was quietly watching him pace. “I am sorry to have bothered you. I must be wrong.”

“Do you not feel it? The power of it?” She asked him.

“No. I feel nothing. It is empty to me,” replied Lair. “And I am a wizard. If there is power in it, surely I should feel it.”

“I know that thee are a wizard. I saw it,” said Felly with understanding in her voice and her eyes. “Come sit next to me and take my hand while I sing it again.”

He did as she commanded. Her hand was small and her touch was soft. He closed his eyes and waited for her to begin.

“Cara sara dor veronn. La berondon zee con la ma…” she sang more slowly this time.

He focused on every word, every syllable, every utterance from her soft, sublime voice.

The words were still gibberish, but he kept his focus this time.

“…seez gitvel ocsee mon fel ohayon fel. Unyeha suzmera sara. Wee unlanshillera whisnar trelgorelynshea on va on…”

Suddenly, he felt an energy flow out of her hands and through his body. His skin beaded up with chills as the power built up inside him. Then, the words became clear to him:

“…the force that stands before me shall not stand the power of the cycle. Spin the wheel of power within the wheel of time and let all that exist around you fall away. In the next phase, you shall draw within yourself the wheels and become part of the motion. You must do this to release the spell’s beginning. And you must…”

He released her hand and jumped up.

“I heard it! I know what the words mean! Well, not all the words, but the words you just sang. And I know what this part of the poem is…” said Lair excitedly. “It is a spell!”

“I knew you would figure it out, Lair,” said Felicidara. “I had seen it in my vision. I did not know it would be my song, but I saw you learning a secret.”

“I was blind. There is a kind of spell called the duos magus, two of magic. This type of spell is like a duet and must be performed by two wizards…” he stopped in mid sentence and looked at her with new eyes. Could it be? “That would mean thou art a wizard, Felly.”

“Me?” She looked at him with disbelief written across her face.

“Do you have a pouch?” He asked.

“A pouch? No,” she answered, sounding puzzled by the reference.

“Every wizard must bind with magic, First Magic, to become a full wizard,” he explained. “We were all given a pouch which contains a special powder, a powder of First Magic. Gradorvian’s Powder. Did not the powder give you the gift of being a seer?”

“I do not know of these things, Lair,” she replied. “I have always had the gift of seeing things at great distances or seeing things yet to happen. Ever since….”

Felly trailed off. Lair waited to see if she would finish, but she looked away.

“Ever since what, Felly? It is important,” said Lair. “Please tell me.”

“All right. Please do not laugh at me,” she said in all seriousness.

“Never, Felly. I know all too well about how it feels to be laughed at,” assured Lair.

“When I was five or six years old,” she began. “I was in the woods near the mountains with my mother and my aunt picking wild blackberries. While we were picking, I became separated from my mom and aunt. I could hear them calling, and they could hear me, but the blackberry brambles were too tall and too thick for us to see each other.”

“Were you scared?” asked Lair.

“Very scared. I started to run towards my mother’s voice when I fell down a deep hole. It was not really a hole but a small cave. The fall caused me to injure my right leg. It hurt a lot. There was enough sunshine filtering down that I could see everything in this cave and I could hear my mother and aunt getting closer above me,” said Felly. She looked reluctant to go on.

“Please,” was all he said to her.

“After yelling to them that I was all right and where I was, I began to feel sure that they would find me soon. So, I started to look around me. In one corner of the little cave, I noticed something wrapped up in a large, dirty rag. I hobbled over to it, picked it up, and began unwrapping it,” said Felly, and she stopped again.

Lair wondered what kind of horror was wrapped up in that old rag at the bottom of the cave, which affected her in this fashion.

“It was a…” she started then took a deep breath and continued, “…a doll.”

“A doll? You were afraid of a silly doll?” Lair did not mean for his questions to sound so heartless.

She turned away from him and said no more. He looked at her back for a long moment regretting what he had said.

“I…I am sorry, Felly,” said Lair. He really felt sorry too. He never wanted to ridicule her. The words just came out that way. He supposed that he must have sounded that way to a lot of people. “I can be such a brat at times. Please tell me about the doll.”

“It was not the doll. But what be inside it. I am not afraid of it. I love it. And what it has brought to me. It is just…” She looked ready to clam up again, but the girl paused for only a moment before continuing. “…I felt something warm inside the doll, so I opened the back of her dress and opened the stitches which concealed her stuffing. As soon as I did, I saw a blinding light and a powder danced out of the doll and began to swirl before me. I was not afraid of it. I…I wanted to be with it. As it swirled, it completely surrounded me. And we…we…we became as one.”

Lair felt his jaw drop as he stared at her in disbelief.

“What? You think I am crazy?” She snapped defensively.

“No…no, just the opposite. I…you…it…it be The Receiving! And from the old doll,” said Lair astounded.

“You have heard of something like this?” asked Felly hopefully.

“Yes, Felly. The Receiving is the ritual of binding that all wizard apprentices go through to become full wizards. It is what happens when they are given their pouch,” said Lair excitedly.

“And, you think I am a---”

“A wizard, Felly! You are a full wizard,” finished Lair. “Untrained, of course. And with a strange, self-taught way of doing things, but still a wizard.”

“That not be all that was in the cave,” said Felly.

“What? There was more? A tome perhaps? Or a talisman?” asked Lair excitedly.

“No, not a something…a someone,” she said as if admitting a deep dark secret. “When the powder stopped dancing, I was…not alone.”

“Of course you were not alone,” answered Lair. She really did not know anything about magic he concluded. “May I see her?”

“What do you mean? No one can see her,” replied Felly. “No one has ever been able to see or talk with her. That is why I have had to keep her a secret all these years.”

“She is your First Magic, your bonded one, but another wizard can see her if she wishes it,” replied Lair. “Here, let me show you mine. Get ready, they are a handful.”

Lair closed his eyes for a moment and then said, “Come, I need her to see you. All of you, if you please. And no mischief.”

Lair felt the warmth of their caring company as if he was surrounded by dozens of loving, yet mischievous, siblings. He looked to his left and to his right and there he saw dozens of his magical twins all regarding Felly with curiosity and warm smiles. He feared that this would overwhelm and frighten her, but she started laughing at his magical siblings.

“Oh, thank thee, Lair. You have given me a peace I have never known since I found that doll, for I thought I was crazy,” she said to him and the look of relief and gratitude in her eyes almost made him tear up, but he pushed that nonsense down.

“I called them my Fraters, my brothers,” said Lair. And the magical siblings all nodded their collective heads. “I was told that I bonded with the First Magic at three years old, so I have known them all for as long as I can remember.”

“I have only one,” said Felly, and she closed her eyes for a long time then opened them up. When she did, her twin of magic appeared, standing next to her and dressed in a sleeping gown as well. “I gave her the name, Soror, for she has been my sister since that day in the cave,” replied Felly, and she looked at her twin for a moment and smiled at her.

Then, Soror and the Fraters began to move towards one another. An uncomfortable feeling came over Lair immediately. He somehow knew that he must not let the magic touch one another. He had to stop this. He had to put them all back, and he needed to hurry…but how?

“Not now!” He shouted hoping he could control this power.

“Please, Soror, I do not know why, but you must not touch them, we need thee now. I need thee,” he heard Felly saying.

Suddenly, all of his magical siblings began to shimmer brightly, and then they merged before his eyes into the single form of an elderly gentleman. Lair watched as Felly’s young twin of magic, Soror, also began to shimmer and then quickly she transformed herself into a grandmotherly figure.

We will try to resist joining, children of the flesh, even though it is our nature. We are moved as much by thy feelings as you may be moved by ours, said the First Magic with one voice in Lair’s and Felly’s mind. For though we are as old as time itself, we can be as young as the moment when we are bonded with those of the flesh. Fear not, for we will do all we can to aid thee in this time of need.

Suddenly, his now ancient sibling of First Magic was gone, and he saw the grandmotherly Soror nod to Felly and then she too dissolved away.

“Lair. I could not prevent her, prevent them, from…” but Felly seemed unable to find the words.

“I know. But I think the First Magic understands now,” said Lair. “We shall need to be careful while we work close together.”

“Work?” asked Felly puzzled.

“Yes, your special song,” said Lair. “Our First Magic wishes us to learn it. We must work on it together in order to form this type of spell work properly. I believe that is why the First Magic brought me here. I hope this spell will hold the key to our success against the sorcerers.”

“All right, Lair,” said Felly. “But will you do one other thing while we work?”

“If I can,” he replied.

“Will you teach me as much as you can about magic and being a wizard?” asked Felly.

“You shall be my apprentice, and I your teacher in the arts of magic,” replied Lair. “If you will be my teacher and I your apprentice when we work with the scroll and the song.”

“I will,” said Felly. “Now you must go. If my uncle catches you here at this hour, he will surely cut off your head.”

❖ ❖ ❖

“It be just a little farther,” said Captain Settrellidur, as he and two other soldiers escorted Jesdoril to the meeting tent of Lord Minegreisel, acting general of this small Darus war and refugee camp. The hour was early and most of the camp looked to be still sleeping.

Jesdoril knew of Lord Minegreisel’s reputation as a tough leader. The Lord had his lands in the north and in the mountains of Darus. It appeared to Jesdoril that Lord Minegreisel had escaped with some of his soldiers and refugees. It was lucky that he had done so. Now, here was a force, though small, which might just be able to put the prince’s plan into action. Jesdoril was worried how this lord would react to Prince Dareldin putting Jesdoril in command of the plan. He hoped this would not be an awkward meeting.

They stopped before a simple, white, round pavilion tent. Beside the entrance flew the Lord’s banner, an eagle owl with its majestic wings spread wide and its talons open ready to strike. Then he remembered that Lord Minegreisel was called the Lord of the Owls because he kept so many of them on his lands.

“I see you like owls,” said a large man dressed in a great fur cloak standing at the entrance to the tent. “Wonderful creatures.”

“Yes, noble, yet ready to strike at any time,” replied Jesdoril.

“Lord Minegreisel, this is Sir Jesdoril,” introduced Captain Settrellidur. “He and his men were the ones Felicidara saw in the visions.”

“So I have heard,” replied Lord Minegreisel. “Come inside and drink warmed cinnamon ale with me.”

Jesdoril followed Lord Minegreisel into the tent with Captain Settrellidur just behind him. Inside the tent, the furnishings were austere. This had the look of a campaign tent: a simple cot for sleeping, a small table and chairs for meals and meetings, and a basin for washing up.

“Tis a bit frugal I admit,” said Lord Minegreisel about his surroundings. “For I suspected we would not tarry here long. Now sit, I still have a half jar of warm ale.”

After they were seated the lord gave Jesdoril and the Captain each a mug. Then, the brawny lord poured the steaming golden liquid into each of their mugs. The smell of cinnamon filled the tent.

“Mmmm, now that be a proper Darus ale,” approved Jesdoril. He had missed the taste of cinnamon ale.

“It brings a touch of Darus straight to the heart,” agreed Lord Minegreisel. “So where be you from, Sir Jesdoril?”

“From the coastal village of Darselfron, My Lord,” said Jesdoril.

“Your family’s land, what house?” inquired Lord Minegreisel.

“My family is not landed,” said Jesdoril.

“A sailor then?” asked the lord.

“Yes, served with His Highness, Prince Dareldin, aboard the Sapientia,” replied Jesdoril. “As part of His Highness’ guard. And I am recently knighted by His Highness.”

“Ah, a floating soldier and a field commission,” said Lord Minegreisel. The lord paused for a long moment. “So, Sir Jesdoril, why have thy come five hundred miles east and a thousand miles north just to meet? Surely, must be more than just for a mug of my cinnamon ale.”

“I have come on the prince’s behalf, but I do wish to know why you would search me out. You could not know of my mission,” wondered Jesdoril.

“My niece led us to you. She told us that we needed to come here, to this very spot, in her visions. That it was important to Darus,” explained Captain Settrellidur. “And so we came.”

“The girl has saved myself and my men several times during the invasion,” said Lord Minegreisel. “So, when she says that we must go. Then, go we will.”

“Then there is luck in her visions, for I bring with me a plan that Prince Dareldin and the other leaders have devised for stalling the Venordaladians in Palzintine,” said Jesdoril. And he extracted from the folds of his cloak a rolled scroll that carried the princes’ wax seal.

“Tell me the gist of this plan,” said Lord Minegreisel, as he accepted the princes’ orders.

“We are to take your entire force and attack the city of Palzin,” said Jesdoril.

“That would be suicide,” exclaimed Captain Settrellidur. “The city is surely protected by a sizable army garrisoned there.”

“What is the reason for this assault?” asked Lord Minegreisel. “It could not possibly be to regain one of the largest cities in the world, could it?”

“No,” admitted Jesdoril. “We are to make as big a ruckus as is possible in order to entice Lord Gravloc to send reinforcements from the ranks of his main force in the western part of Palzintine. We know not the exact strength of the enemy garrisoned in Palzin, but the size of their western army leads us to believe that many were sent from here to join that force after the fall of the city.”

Lord Minegreisel opened the scroll and scanned its contents. He put down the scroll and got up to stare out of the open tent flap.

“So, I am to take a few thousand men down to a place where, no matter what the enemy’s actual strength, my men will most assuredly be outnumbered on the off chance that we can cause enough trouble to gain Gravloc’s attention?” asked Lord Minegreisel with his back still towards them.

“Yes, My Lord,” said Jesdoril.

“And…you, my sailor knight, you have been tasked to command this royal adventure. Is that not so, Sir Jesdoril?”

“Yes, My Lord,” said Jesdoril. “I have lived in Palzin for several years in the past. So I know the area quite well.”

“No,” said Lord Minegreisel softly.

“Pardon, My Lord,” said Jesdoril, not sure that he had heard the lord correctly.

“No,” repeated Lord Minegreisel more loudly. “I will not do this thing the prince asks of us. I will not sacrifice my men to this slaughter just to buy Rosverdar some time.”