Warrior of the Dawn

by M. S. Brook

  “No, it is I who must apologize. We led them into a trap.”

  “You could not have known. None of us suspected anything the like. We are all to blame. None of us imagined how far Lord Saduk’s trickery and evil wit would take him.”

  “This settlement is in grave danger,” Orabella said. “Saduk is more spiteful and vengeful than we knew. I wonder that I did not see it sooner.”

  We were all quiet with our thoughts. A smothering feeling rose in my chest. What was Saduk capable of doing that I hadn’t anticipated? What might such a man do to the king? I jumped up and walked over to the window, looking out, but seeing nothing.

  “Do we pull up and move further south?” Jaron asked. “Is there a place where we can escape his reach?”

  “No,” I said. “It’s no use running away—that’s what he wants. He likes it when we show that we’re afraid of him.”

  “Then what can we do?”

  Orabella straightened her shoulders. She looked from Jaron to Zerikon. “I agree with Aidriana. Surrendering our place on this land would only encourage him.”

  I was happy to hear agreement from the other elders.

  “Very well,” Azar said, “our patrol will stay in this region for a few weeks until the militia can get back on its feet.”

  “Much appreciated,” said Captain Zerikon. “We will speak to our people. All able bodies, including women, will have to take up arms. We will go back to working with our weapons by our sides. We did it when we rebuilt the settlement. We can do it again. Any spy who dares come will see that we are not defeated.”

  We finished the meeting, and I followed the elders out of the hall. “Lady Orabella!” I said. She turned, and I felt that sharp, uncomfortable gaze that seemed to look right through me. “I was wondering if…I might ask a few questions about the seeing gift.”

  She nodded. “I’ve been waiting for you to ask.”

  We walked down to the river, and I found myself, awkwardly at first, telling Orabella about my experiences. “Why is the gift so unreliable?” I asked her. “I fell into Saduk’s trap as blind as anyone could be. Why could I not see the danger? I was so sure that we must go into Domaine, but I was wrong, and many men lost their lives.”

  “What makes you think you were wrong?”

  I stopped mid-stride and stared at her. “Look what happened! How could I think anything else?”

  “I see that men were lost and that your plan failed. Does it follow that you were wrong to go?”

  I considered Orabella’s question. “It feels like it was wrong. I led our company into a battle we could not win, and the gift of sight did not protect us.”

  “The nature of gifts is that they are given to us. Gifts are not ours to command. I cannot answer the question of why your sight did not warn you, but perhaps we can still glean something of value from what happened. Yes, men were lost, and that is a terrible thing. There never was a battle without a bitter cost. But there must be something that you learned from facing Saduk—something you now possess that you did not possess before.”

  “Well, I learned that he is very good at setting traps, that he is devious and thinks strategically, that he uses fear as a weapon.” I told Orabella how he sat on his horse and watched the battle and how the Evergreens responded when he joined in. “Everyone was afraid of him— the Evergreens, his own men too. The conscripts fought much harder when he was watching.”

  “All of these insights will help you as you prepare to face Saduk again.” Orabella paused. “You do know you must face him?”

  I nodded, feeling a sudden shiver that Orabella had the same “knowing” as I. “How do we avoid falling into Saduk’s trap again? So much of our strategy is based on defending or responding to Saduk’s attacks. Saduk strikes first, and we strike back. If he knows how we will respond, it’s easy for him to set a trap.”

  “That is why you must be the one who sets the table.”

  It was an odd statement, but I knew enough about Orabella to pay attention to it. A sharp childhood memory popped into my head. “I don’t know why I thought of this now,” I said, “but I watched a hawk chasing a dove one day. It happened right in front of me. A large hawk swooped over my head, sharp beak, talons, powerful wings—all aimed at a sweet little dove that was trying to get away. The dove beat the air until feathers flew and the wind whistled through her wings, but she was slow and clumsy compared to the hawk, and I knew her efforts could not be enough.”

  Orabella had stopped walking, and I stopped too. “It was just a dove, but I felt sorry for her. I didn’t want her to be killed.”

  “What happened?”

  “The little dove kept on fighting. She gave a desperate thrust and somehow managed to reach a huge oak tree before the hawk could close in. She hopped from twig to twig until I couldn’t see her anymore. The hawk tried to pursue, but it was clumsy in the dense canopy. It had to give up and fly away. I remember watching until it was a faraway speck in the sky.” I looked at Orabella, but she didn’t say anything. “It’s like there’s a message in the story…”

  Orabella nodded, her eyes gazing into the empty blue sky above us. “It may well be so. I have heard it said that the Maker of Songs writes his thoughts on the hearts of his creatures.” Orabella turned her sharp gaze back on me. “If it is a message, what do you think it might mean?”

  “Well, the dove didn’t give up even though the situation looked hopeless, but I think there is more…”

  Orabella’s eyes never left my face, waiting for me to continue.

  “I see that both birds had elements of strength and weakness, but the dove moved the contest to a position that favored her strength. Is that what you meant when you said that it matters who sets the table?”

  “It is clear that you have learned something these past few days. You have met Saduk on his ground and you stumbled into the trap he prepared for you. But now it is your turn. What grounds will you set for the next encounter? You must be the one to dictate the terms.”

  “But…how do I do that?”

  “What is in your heart? Only you can know—and when you find it, you will know what to do.” Orabella waited a moment, closing her eyes as if listening intently. Then she said, “I do not see the road that you must take, but I do see this. It begins at the doorway of your dreams. You are the Songmaker’s creation. Watch for the message he writes on the pages of your heart.”

  Chapter 28

  I spent the next few days searching for messages. Nieve and her band of healers took care of the wounded, leaving me free to consider what my heart was trying to tell me. I went for long walks and thought about all that I knew of the United Realm and the House of Enfys. I thought about history lessons and family stories, and although it was still painful, I went over every detail of our battle with Saduk—but I was no wiser.

  Early one morning the message came. A thought so sudden, so bright, and so unnerving that it was like an unexpected crack of lightning on a dark night.

  Saduk is afraid of us.

  I was shocked by it. How could it be? Saduk was the one who made everyone else afraid. I considered the thought from every side, each time returning to the same conclusion. Why did Saduk stay at home when his war bands invaded the Northlands? Why did he himself never cross our border? Always he sent his Bezarqs to carry out his commands under fear of death. In our recent battle, he had shown himself, but he only joined in when the battle was clearly won and to prove a point to the Evergreens. And why was he so insistent on punishing deserters? Was he afraid that the kingdom he had built on fear would collapse if his people stopped fearing him? Or for that matter, if they changed loyalties? That must be the reason he so relentlessly pursued the royal lineage. He did not want his people to have the choice to prefer Enfys over Worrgard.

  I was stunned by what I’d uncovered. Surely this knowledge could end his reign, but how coul
d we put it to use? I had to test the idea, and once we knew it was sound, we had to come up with a plan.

  I ran up from my solitary walk along the river to Tal’s paddock, where Rowland was helping to care for the horses. “Do you know where the captain is?” I asked him breathlessly.

  “He’s at River Hall.” Rowland’s eyes were concerned. “Are you all right?”

  “I think I’ve made a discovery. We need to have a meeting.”

  Azar, Torin, Brady, and Rowland met with me in the River Hall, drawing table and chairs near a window to take advantage of the morning sun. I also brought Orabella along, since she had started me on this path. I explained my reasoning about Saduk and my conviction that he was afraid of us. “Saduk’s rule is founded on fear,” I said. “He holds people captive by his brutal acts. That is the source of his power over them. In Canwyrrie, we’ve always known that he has no right to the throne, but his own people believe the lie. When Domaine understands that he is a pretender, Saduk will fall.”

  Orabella nodded, her eyes eager. “I believe you are right, my lady. The kings of Enfys have long held to an old adage, ‘Fear has no master and love has no slave.’ Saduk has turned this truth on its head. He uses fear to enslave, but he does not understand that fear will one day master him as well. The chains he uses to bind his people must assuredly bind himself.”

  “I’m not so sure,” Azar said. “Saduk has made himself such a symbol of fear to his own people, who are clearly terrified of him, to the Northlands, which his armies have destroyed, and even to us, who defend our borders from his savage attacks. If you are right about him, what does it change? He still holds sovereignty in Domaine, he still has cages full of vithons, Bezarqs who obey his smallest whim, and an army of conscripts who, I agree, obey out of fear rather than love, but they are no less deadly.”

  “Very true,” Orabella said. “Saduk is no less dangerous because he is afraid. Rather, like a cornered animal, fear makes him even more so.”

  “But it is still a flaw,” I said. “Saduk has a weakness, and we must attack it. He fears losing his power, so we must attack his seat of power. We must take Bal Zor!”

  The three men stared at me as if I’d gone mad, but I pressed on. “We grew up hearing stories of the great kings and queens of Enfys. Why is it that we no longer possess their daring? The time for courage has not passed. We too must make a bold move. Like King Alwyne of old, we must march on Bal Zor, but this time we must take the fortress back for Enfys. Nothing else will answer. Bal Zor is Saduk’s seat of authority. By its possession, he pretends to have the right to rule. Let us take that pretense away from him.”

  In the following silence, a pair of bluebirds swooped past the window, their chatter sounding unusually loud.

  Azar spoke up first. “Forgive me, but Bal Zor is Saduk’s strongest position. We don’t have the army for that sort of challenge.”

  “Not as we stand, perhaps, but what if the regents were to call up every man who’s ever served with the Guardians? Would that be enough?” The three men looked at me with doubtful faces.

  “What about Canwyrrie?” Torin said. “We can’t leave the homeland unprotected.”

  “No, we would have to leave a home guard. We could ask for volunteers. Look, I know I’m not the only one who feels this way. We would find support.”

  Rowland was frowning. “Even so, even if we took every last kingsman with us, we would still not have enough to lay siege to the fortress. I’ve heard about Bal Zor all my life. The thickness of its walls alone makes the fortress unassailable. And that’s without reckoning with the Bezarqs and vithons defending it.”

  “He’s right,” Azar said. “Bal Zor has exceptional defenses. It’s built on a giant rock in the middle of the river. A long stone bridge connects it to the town of Balton, but it’s only wide enough for four horsemen to ride abreast, and if the drawbridge is up, there’s no place to set up a battering ram.”

  Brady nodded. “We studied the fortress in warfare training. You can’t besiege the walls, because the river is too deep to ford. Even if you use boats, there’s no place to land them. The walls go straight up from the rock, and archers will pick you apart while you try to throw up grappling hooks to scale the walls.”

  It was Torin’s turn, and he had an uncomfortable look on his face. “With respect, no army has ever taken the fortress of Bal Zor in all its long history—and for good reason.”

  Azar was fidgeting, his knee bouncing up and down as if he shared Torin’s discomfort. “It pains me to say so, but I just don’t see it, and I don’t think the council would either.”

  “Not a chance,” Rowland said.

  The men were quiet finally, apparently studying the grains in the oaken tabletop before them. They’d managed to cut down my idea with a few swift strokes. I glanced at Orabella. “Elder Stonedale, do you have anything to add?”

  “I do. Thank you. You have done well to remind us of the storied history of Enfys, for the past is the foundation for our future. By it we may see what we are meant to build.” Without hesitating, she turned her bright eyes on Azar. “Captain Azar, I believe you have stumbled upon the very thing that holds you back.”

  Azar looked up, his ears turning red under Orabella’s gaze. “I don’t understand.”

  “You said you don’t ‘see it,’ and that is your difficulty. Until you are able to see it with your heart, your hands will never find the strength to do it.”

  Untroubled by Azar’s blank look, she went on. “When our once great realm was ruled by the ancient kings of Enfys, peace and prosperity held sway in every province. No one feared an evil attack or crops destroyed by drought. Justice and truth breathed freely in every corner of the land. Do you know that this is our history?”

  We all nodded, the men still with puzzled expressions on their faces, but I was beginning to feel my heartbeat quicken. Something important was about to happen.

  Orabella forged ahead with her lesson. “You say that Bal Zor cannot be taken for the king. May I respectfully remind you that this whole realm once belonged to the House of Enfys? You see, before it was anything else, Bal Zor was a royal possession. We do not need to prove our case. Bal Zor, by right, belongs to the House of Enfys.” She looked at us, her eyes impatient for us to follow. “Don’t you see? Once true sovereignty has been established, the door is forever open. Only that which is lost can be found.”

  We looked at her, unsure of the ground she’d taken us to. Orabella continued, “I am not telling you anything new. The truth has been forgotten for so long that you can no longer see it. That makes it no less true. But it does mean we need to do a little work to find it again.”

  A long silence followed. Azar’s leg went back to twitching. “Begging your pardon, Elder,” he said. “But what exactly do you mean? Practically speaking for us soldiers, that is.”

  Orabella rose and walked around the table, a small, strong woman stopping to peer at each man like an officer reviewing troops. They all sat straighter in their chairs, and the room grew uncomfortably warm. “You have been telling us why Bal Zor cannot be taken, and you have made a good argument—it is never hard to see the difficulties. But I would simply remind you of your own history, a history that was once established and true. Our realm, from northern firths to southern coasts, was birthed in unity, nurtured by the benevolent rule of Enfys. This unity was never meant to be broken. It is your heritage—bought by the blood of kings.” She closed her eyes, and her voice took on a piercing, sing-song quality that set us all on the edge of our seats.

  “There is a promise hidden in the land, awaiting your discovery. It is your past and your future—but you must fight for it. For destiny will not simply drop into your hands. You must take hold of the promise and run with it. Run and never stop, ’til every tree, every rock, every man, woman, and child sings the dreams of the Songmaker again.”

  As she spoke, my heart
caught fire. Somehow she had called to the deepest desire within me. I saw myself running in the dark on a field of battle, waving a brightly colored banner before a multitude of warriors. As I waved the banner, streams of color flowed from it, causing the darkness to glow with ethereal radiance, the very night seeming to sing all around me.

  As quickly as it had come, the vision left me. But I knew I had to have it back. “What do we do?” I whispered.

  She turned to me and her words pierced like a sword. “You must believe what you see and you must bring your people with you.” My heart was transfixed, relieved only for a moment when she turned to face my companions. “Each one of you, from infancy, has heard the prophecy of the Warrior of the Dawn. Now you must believe it.”

  All three men turned as one to look at me, and the walls of the room seemed to close in, my heart pounding in my ears. I gripped my hands together in my lap so no one would see them trembling.

  Rowland stood first, and I watched with dread. We’d all unbuckled our sword belts and laid them on the table at the beginning of the meeting. Now he reached over and drew his sword out of the scabbard, his face solemn as for battle. He came to where I was seated at the end of the table and laid the sword at my feet, bowed on one knee, and with his right hand pressed to his chest, quoted the ancient oath of fealty. “I pledge my troth to this noble quest. My sword for your sword. My life for your life. My blood for your blood.”

  Azar, Torin, and Brady followed, giving the pledge one by one. I sat still in my chair, staring down at the swords. I knew what they were saying and my mind balked at it. Never had I dreamed of anything like this. Even when I learned I was King Aidan’s daughter, I had never dared imagine I might be the one spoken of in the prophecy. Oh yes, I knew I was to carry on the line of Enfys and perhaps one day to rule by my father’s side. All that was hard—but possible. But the Warrior of the Dawn? I shook my head. The prophecy was for someone else, not me. “I believe in the prophecy,” I said. “But you have the wrong idea. I am not the Warrior of the Dawn…surely you know that.”