Stolen Princess: A Kilenya Chronicles Story

by Andrea Pearson

  Dmitri jumped to his feet and whirled. Kenji had fallen unconscious in the doorway, blood on his forehead. Had he been injured that badly by the Dusts? A huge man Dmitri hadn’t noticed earlier stood near the door, looking down at Kenji with . . . what was it? Concern? Confusion?

  Dmitri squinted. This man looked like Brend’s older brother. “Ferron?”

  The man turned and grinned at Dmitri, then stepped into the light filtered through the only window.

  “Ferron! It is you!” Dmitri put his sword away. “We searched for you everywhere in Maivoryl City. How’d you get here before we did? You must’ve really pushed your horse!” He laughed. “Either way, I’m really grateful you’re here. We could definitely use your help.”

  Dmitri turned back to Arien. “It’s time to get you and the babe out of here.”

  “I’m not going to let that happen,” Ferron said, his voice deep and rough.

  Dmitri snorted. “Right. Come on—let’s get back home.”

  “Your home won’t be open for you—the Lorkon plan to invade again. Permanently. Take up residence in the castle.”

  “They’d better not.” Dmitri frowned. “And how do you know this?” He circled around a table in the center of the room, approaching Kenji. He knelt by the Makalo’s side and checked his pulse—he was fine, thank goodness.

  “The Lorkon told me, of course. They have access to amazing powers, Dmitri. And not just that, but ancient training and arts long lost on our world.”

  Dmitri paused when Ferron called him by name. The man had never done that before—it had always been “Your Highness” or “sire.” Dmitri got to his feet and found his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. Something about Ferron’s attitude made him nervous. The man was cocky by nature, but this—this was more than that.

  “Ferron, tell me. How did you get here so quickly?”

  “It’s not obvious to you?”

  Dmitri closed his eyes, realizing how stupid he’d been. “I’m hoping it’s not what I think it to be.”

  Ferron snorted. “You can think whatever you want. I’m in a much better place than I was while under your rule.”

  “I didn’t rule you,” Dmitri said softly. “And neither did King Roylance. You know that.”

  Ferron’s face clouded over. Then he shook his head. “When the Lorkon approached me several months a—”

  “You’ve know that long this would be happening?”

  The man continued louder. “When they approached me several months ago, they promised many things. And they’ve followed through on those promises.”

  “What could you possibly gain from them that you didn’t already have?”

  “Knowledge, Dmitri. Knowledge.”

  Dmitri scoffed. “You had access to all the libraries of the kingdom through your post at the castle.”

  “I’m not talking about the kind of stuff King Roylance kept around.” Ferron picked up an odd-looking light-blue-and-gold shield that rested against the wall behind him. He held it, gazing on it with a fondness Dmitri had never seen a man give an object before. “They taught me ancient fighting techniques. Introduced me to weapons long since abandoned. Like this.”

  He hefted the shield, and Dmitri was shocked to see that the entire top edge of it had been sharpened and lined with spikes. Not only that, but each corner of the shield was carved into a thick hook, large enough to encircle a man’s neck.

  Ferron put the shield down. “And they promise to turn me into one of them—giving me immortality and endless strength.”

  Dmitri shook his head. “You don’t even know what you’re playing with.”

  “Don’t I?” Ferron spread his fingers wide. “I’ve had plenty of time to think about this—to plan things with them.”

  “It was he who led the Lorkon to our chambers,” Arien said from where she sat with the babe. “He ensured the entire castle was empty and quiet so I wouldn’t know the Lorkon were on their way—so I wouldn’t go into labor prematurely, putting myself at risk.”

  Dmitri glared at Ferron. “How dare you do this? How dare you turn your back on people who—who care about and love you?”

  “Love? That was always something Brend sought.”

  Kenji stirred from the doorway, and Dmitri tried to warn him with his eyes. But the Makalo was already on alert. Dmitri directed his attention back to the former castle guard. “I’m taking my wife and child with me now.”

  Ferron shrugged. “Go ahead—try.” He lifted his shield again and pulled out a short sword Dmitri knew hadn’t come from Maivoryl City. “I was charged with protecting Princess Arien from the moment I joined the king’s guard. Imagine my surprise and pleasure at learning I’d be guarding her again, but against my former employer.”

  Dmitri growled, and Kenji lifted his dagger. “I think it’s time we put a stop to his ridiculous treason, Your Majesty,” Kenji said.

  “I agree.”

  Dmitri and Kenji lunged at the same time. But to Dmitri’s shock, instead of engaging, Ferron threw his sword at the prince, and Dmitri barely blocked it with his own. Why would the man throw it? How good would he be in a fight without a sword?

  But then he lifted his shield, using a circular motion which knocked Kenji back, and jumped for Dmitri. He intended to use it as a weapon!

  It took Dmitri several moments to adjust to dodging and striking away a shield instead of a sword. Luckily, Kenji was also attacking Ferron from the other side, in a blind spot. That kept the guard occupied while Dmitri relearned some of his fighting tactics.

  It became apparent that Ferron hadn’t been practicing with a shield for very long, but his training in other areas kept him a dangerous man. His sheer size was a deterrent—he towered over Dmitri by a foot and a half, maybe two, and the man had at least one hundred pounds on Dmitri. And he was fully armored, while Kenji and Dmitri only had a few pieces of hardened leather covering their torsos.

  Even fighting two opponents, Ferron thwarted both their efforts. His reach, and the length of his weapon, kept them out of range to counterattack, and he always had the shield between himself and one of them while attacking the other.

  Ferron turned on Dmitri again, and the king rolled to the ground to avoid being hooked around the neck by the shield. The whoosh of air above him said he’d barely gotten out of the way in time.

  Kenji jumped at the guard, holding out his dagger, but the man blocked the blow and spun, knocking Kenji away. Twisting again, he thrust the shield toward Dmitri’s neck. Again, Dmitri rolled, getting out of the way just in time. He sprang to his feet, holding his sword with both hands. How to beat this monster? Something his first trainer taught him popped into his mind—Don’t use just your weapons. Make use of the objects—furniture, decorations, etc., around you.

  Switching to a one-handed grip on his sword, Dmitri picked up a chair and swung it at the guard. The wood splintered and shattered, vibrating in Dmitri’s hands, but Ferron didn’t even pause as Kenji advanced on him again. He hooked the Makalo around the ankle and yanked back, hard.

  Kenji flew to the ground, smacking his head against the stone floor. The sound of the impact echoed off the rafters. Ouch.

  This was going on far too long. Dmitri growled and rushed Ferron, sword up, and nearly stabbed Ferron in the chest, but the bigger man was surprisingly fast. He used the hook on his shield again to swipe Dmitri’s feet out from under him, and Dmitri fell with a thud, realizing he’d been stopped by a tactic he’d witnessed just seconds earlier. He felt like an idiot.

  Ferron laughed and dashed at Dmitri, holding the shield up, ready to strike. But Kenji had recovered enough to throw his dagger. It struck between the pieces of the man’s armor, on the back of the leg, and he roared with rage, whirling to the Makalo. He gripped the dagger and flung it across the room, the veins popping out on his forehead. Dmitri got to his feet and jabbed Ferron from behind, but the metal of the guard’s armor prevented the sword from penetrating.

  How would they defeat this man?
He was unstoppable! Dmitri shook himself—thinking that way wouldn’t help. He needed to find a better way to fight. He became aware of his screaming baby and pushed the thought of his wife and child far from his mind. They would only distract him, definitely placing himself—and them—in more danger.

  He put his mind and heart back into the fight, realizing Ferron had just knocked Kenji down again.

  Dmitri jumped forward right as Ferron raised his shield. He slid his sword through one of the hooks, yanking back as hard as he could. Ferron kept his grasp on the weapon, but nearly fell. Dmitri pulled his sword free.

  Ferron teetered for a moment, and Dmitri took advantage of the imbalance to strike. He put all his weight into the forward motion, aiming the tip of his sword for Ferron’s heart.

  The sword barely punctured the armor, but the force of the attack knocked Ferron off his feet. With a clatter, he fell to the ground. Dmitri rushed to attack again, but the man recovered quickly. He rolled away and flipped up to a standing position.

  Ferron lifted his shield, and he and Dmitri parried back and forth, dodging furniture, throwing vases and glasses at each other, and whatever else they could get their hands on. Dmitri put his all into the fight.

  He briefly wondered what had happened with Kenji, but he couldn’t risk a glance in the Makalo’s direction. A one-second distraction like that would put him in a weakened state, giving Ferron the opportunity to get in a deadly strike.

  The sound of his baby’s cry reached his ears again over the clatter of the fight, and Dmitri renewed his vigor, pushing Ferron back. The ringing of his sword matched the volume of the screaming child.

  But Ferron was stronger. Even using two hands on his sword, Dmitri barely deflected the attacks. It didn’t take long for him to realize he might never gain the upper hand against the guard. He barely dodged a decapitating blow, taking a slash to the shoulder instead. It stung, slowing him down.

  Ferron backed Dmitri into a corner between a bookshelf and a wall and thrust his shield at Dmitri’s chest. The corners of the shield, however, struck the wall and bookshelf on either side of Dmitri, and he slid out from under it, rolling away. Ferron growled, yanked his shield back, and whirled.

  The parrying continued.

  The fight went on for what felt like hours, but was probably only minutes. What would cause Ferron to fall? Dmitri tried to think of everything he knew about the man, but nothing came to mind—Ferron had been perfect in everything he’d learned. From what Dmitri had heard, he was at the top of every class, far outreaching the other students.

  He had to have a weakness.

  But Dmitri realized with shock that finding the weakness might not matter. With Kenji apparently out of the fight, and his strength waning, it appeared Ferron was about to win.

  And when Ferron struck Dmitri to the ground, he was convinced of this.

  Ferron flipped his shield upside down, and before Dmitri could roll far enough away, he stabbed the tip of it deep into Dmitri’s thigh. Pain stronger than his adrenaline radiated from his leg, coursing through his body.

  Arien screamed and rushed forward. Dmitri shouted, “Arien—stay away!”

  Ferron raised his shield, ready to strike again, but just then, Kenji jumped back into the fight with his dagger. He struck Ferron in the chest, where the tip of Dmitri’s sword had broken the armor.

  Ferron’s eyes widened, and he stared down at the dagger. With a roar, he pulled it loose—it hadn’t inflicted enough damage—and raised the shield again. But Early flitted into the room.

  “Stop!” Early shrieked.

  And surprisingly, Ferron did.

  Early continued as soon as she saw she had everyone’s attention. “Dead! Slaughtered! All of them—Kelson, Brend, everyone!”

  Kelson? Dead? It wasn’t possible.

  Ferron dropped his shield. It fell on top of Dmitri, cutting his leg again. Ferron’s attention was elsewhere. He turned to Early. “My brother is dead? I won’t believe it!” He lunged for the Minya, but Early was much faster and flitted out of reach.

  Kenji jumped to his feet, dashed to where the shield had fallen, and hefted it, knocking Ferron over the head with it.

  Ferron fell to the ground, motionless for the first time.

  Dmitri tried to get up. He could tell he was losing too much blood from his injuries, and he struggled to maintain consciousness. “Arien? I’m . . .” He slipped away.

  Arien’s voice brought him back. “You’re not going anywhere!” she yelled. “Not now! We just found each other again.” She put a hand on the side of his face, staring into his eyes. “Stay with me, Dmitri!”

  But he couldn’t—he felt his consciousness slipping again. Then a burning sensation started in his thigh, spreading outward, clearing his mind briefly. He struggled to a sitting position and saw that Kenji had cut open his pants around the large wound and was holding a piece of cloth to it.

  “I had a little Kaede Sap with me still,” Kenji said, glancing at Dmitri. Blood seeped from a cut on the Makalo’s forehead. “It’s not enough to heal you, but enough to give you a slight boost. There’s more in my saddle back at Aldo’s cabin.”

  With a flash, Early entered the room again—Dmitri didn’t even see the Minya leave. “Aldo says to hurry! The Lorkon leader is on his way!”

  Dmitri dragged himself to his feet, Arien by his side, one arm around him, the other holding their baby, who had finally fallen asleep.

  Ferron stirred on the ground.

  “He’s not dead,” Dmitri said.

  “I’m afraid not,” Kenji said. “It wasn’t a fatal blow.”

  Dmitri pulled the key out of his pocket and put it into the lock. Blackness closed over him again, and again, Arien called him back.

  He’d fallen to the ground by the door. With Arien’s help, he dragged himself to his knees and put the key into the lock again. Then he turned it to the left and said, “Aldo’s cabin.”

  Arien put his hand over the doorknob, and together, they pulled it open. Aldo’s roughly put-together furniture greeted them. Arms around each other, Dmitri and Arien stumbled through the doorway. With a final burst of energy, Dmitri helped Arien to the floor of the cabin, and turned to make sure Kenji had followed. Then right as Ferron rolled for the door, arms outstretched, he closed the link.

  Dmitri sank to the floor next to Arien, and they cradled each other in their arms. He looked down at the baby—still sleeping. “I’m so very sorry I missed the birth,” he said. His eyes shut without his permission, and he fought to open them again. Kenji waved as he left the cabin, and Dmitri turned his attention back to his wife.

  Arien shook her head, looking up at her husband, eyes sparkling with unshed tears. “You’re here now.”

  The next several moments were hazy—Kenji returned and started mixing things at the table, then approached Dmitri and dipped a bunch of cloth into a bowl. A sharp pain flooded through Dmitri’s leg, and full consciousness returned. Kenji had started wrapping his wound.

  Arien was by his side, holding his hand. He traced a finger along her face, peace filling his heart. “What happened when they took you?”

  She shook her head. “I remember hardly anything. There were brief moments when I was aware of what was going on, but for the most part, they kept me drugged until I was with the Shiengols. The Shiengols cared for me—gave me strength, in their own ways.” She leaned against Dmitri’s shoulder, and Dmitri brushed her hair aside.

  She took a deep breath. “But then, I went into labor, and the Lorkon removed me from the fortress. They took me to the town center and helped me deliver the baby—I was surprised at how gentle they were with both of us.”

  “Wait—they were gentle?”

  She nodded. “They want something from us, but never told me what. I don’t know if they got it or not. But they left me alone with the baby fairly quickly after the birth.”

  Early came with a message from Aldo, saying that the elderly man was on his way back from his lookout point
. “Also, Lahs and Brojan send messages. Thousands and thousands are dying—they are no match for the Lorkon armies.”

  Arien stifled a sob. “So much death. My people, Dmitri.”

  A sudden memory returned to Dmitri. “Early, earlier . . .” He hesitated in saying it, hoping he’d heard wrong. “Did you say Kelson was . . . dead?”

  Early nodded her tiny head.

  “No!” Dmitri gasped. Immense grief crushed down on him, knocking the wind from his lungs. “Kelson . . . my friend.” He couldn’t stop the tears that poured down his face. The pain in his heart was physical—more than he could bear. Arien was right. So many people dead. Good people who had been true to Dmitri. King Roylance. Ezra. Brend. And Kelson. Oh, Kelson.

  Arien held him close, and they cried together for several moments. Just as Dmitri felt like he’d finished, a memory of Kelson would surface, and the tears would come back again. His best friend since childhood was gone.

  Finally, the tears ended, and Dmitri looked at his wife. The stress and worry of the past several days showed on her face. But she gave him a shaky smile, putting her hand on his cheek.

  Kenji cleared his throat. It looked like he’d also been crying. “Early needs orders for the armies.”

  Dmitri spotted Early in the air above him, and sure enough, the Minya looked like she was nervously waiting for a message to deliver. “Could you give me the report again?” Dmitri asked.

  “The Lorkon can’t be defeated. The armies need to know what you would have them do.”

  Dmitri nodded and pushed his emotions aside. “Tell them to call off the attack. Retreat. Do whatever it takes to avoid total destruction.”

  Dmitri got to his feet and tried to pace before realizing his leg wouldn’t allow it. He quickly lost whatever strength he’d found and leaned against the cabin wall for support. “Also, tell Brojan and Lahs to recruit more—gather a much larger army. But more importantly, instruct them, especially Brojan, to research the Lorkon—find out anything they can about this evil foe.”

  Early disappeared, and Kenji helped Dmitri sit at the table. Arien joined them.