Sir Rowan and the Camerian Conquest

by Chuck Black

  The cave began to glow, and the rocky walls melted into the fluid movements of silky curtains. He was traveling, for he could feel the bed he was on jostle as he journeyed down a road. The water he tasted was sweet, and he breathed deeply of the fresh spring air. He didn’t want to wake up, but keeping the dream going took too much effort. Soon the images of delight faded once again into the dark walls of his cave.

  When he dreamed again, he could feel the rhythmic mass of the sea swaying him on a grand ship. The mist of the open water felt so real on his face. He had never been to sea and wondered if his dream was anything like the real thing. This time the beauty of his dreamscape faded as a dark figure came and stood over him. The face was blurred, but Rowan was certain the bearded marauder had come once more to kill his unransomed captive. This time, however, he heard cries and screams in the distance that shook his soul. He struggled weakly, but powerful arms held him down, and he waited for the knife that would plunge into his heart.

  “—near the Isle of Sedah. It is not far—”

  The fragment of speech swirled in his mind, and Rowan could make no sense of it until he remembered something from his training. The Isle of Sedah was the horrific place of captivity to which the Dark Knight, Lucius, had brought many prisoners. Had Rowan somehow been given over to Lucius to be tortured even more? He tried to awake from this nightmare, and finally the images and sounds faded away to blackness.

  Now Rowan heard drums pounding in his head, but each beat transformed into sounds that he could understand. Then he realized it was not a drum he was hearing, but the sound of a deep voice speaking over him.

  “What are your orders, my Lord?” the voice asked.

  “Leave him here with me,” another replied.

  Rowan blinked his eyes open, and the sun spilled its glorious light into them. The sunrays warmed his face, and he wondered how long this dream would last. He took a deep breath. It felt so real.

  He turned his head and saw the most beautiful sight he had ever seen—a magnificent city on a hill, glimmering in the brilliant sunlight. The wall that surrounded the city stretched left and right forever. Through a massive, shining gate that faced him, he caught glimpses of unimaginable splendor, yet somehow the whole place seemed warm and welcoming, not the least intimidating.

  Tears welled up in his eyes, but he didn’t know why—perhaps because he knew this would be his last dream. He was thankful to end his life with this instead of the previous nightmare.

  “Hello, Rowan,” a gentle voice spoke.

  Rowan turned his head to the other side, away from the city, and saw a man sitting on the green grass beside him. The man’s arm lay across his raised knee, and his face seemed to reflect the sunlight just as the city’s golden gate did.

  Rowan didn’t respond. He just marveled at the man, who leaned in closer. “How are you feeling?”

  Rowan turned his head in the other direction, fully expecting the city to be gone, but it was still there. He looked back at the man. “Am I dead?” he finally asked.

  The man smiled. “Come, sit up … if you are able.”

  He reached an arm behind Rowan’s shoulders and slowly lifted him. Rowan’s head swam, and he put out a hand to his head to steady himself. “That’s strange,” he said. “I didn’t think one could pass out in a dream.”

  “You’re not dreaming, Rowan,” the man said. “You are at the gates of the King’s city.”

  Rowan shook his head, trying to understand what was happening. He looked into the eyes of the man.

  “I’ve heard your voice before,” he said warily. “You were the one I fought … in the arena … and on the road!”

  “Yes, you had lost your way.” The man’s gentle voice grew stronger as Rowan gathered his strength. “You should have turned back.”

  “You were trying to … to help me?”

  The man nodded, and his warm eyes seemed to penetrate into the very depths of Rowan’s soul. Rowan tilted his head as it dawned on him who the stranger might be. Even if this were a dream, he could only respond one way. He lowered his head, and tears fell from his face.

  “I’m sorry, my Prince. Please forgive me.”

  The Prince placed a hand across the back of Rowan’s neck, and He leaned toward him until His forehead touched Rowan’s. “I forgive you,” He whispered.

  “I wasted my life on frivolous applause and pieces of metal, and now it is over.” Rowan’s heart ached for the life he hadn’t lived.

  The Prince squeezed his neck, then released him. He reached for a water flask and gave it to Rowan.

  “Be at peace, Rowan. Drink.”

  Rowan placed the flask to his lips and drank deeply of the sweet water. The Prince lowered him back, and Rowan realized he was lying on a cot.

  “Your life is not over, for you are a mighty knight of the King. Time is short, and I have a mission that awaits you in Arrethtrae.”

  Rowan felt confusion wash over him, and the world melted away once more. His last conscious thought was a sad one: he hated to leave this sweet final dream.

  A SONG IN THE DARK

  Rowan opened his eyes, but the blackness of the cave suffocated him once more. Something crawled across his face, and he didn’t even swipe it away. The heavy irons still hung on his ankles and wrists.

  Death teased him, though in fact he felt more alive now than he had in a long time. Why had he dreamed such a vivid dream about the Prince? His dreamed emotions of regret and renewal seemed quite hollow and meaningless now.

  He closed his eyes and waited. How many more days of this torture would he have to endure? He tried to return to the freedom of his dreams, but they eluded him.

  He lay in silence for a very long while until he thought perhaps he was hallucinating again. The faint, lilting sounds of an angelic singing voice sifted through the darkness and lit upon his ears. Rowan sat up, and the chains jingled, momentarily blocking out the lovely voice. He listened again, hoping he had not silenced the lilting voice, whether dream or not.

  Then he heard it again. Could it be real?

  “Help!” he croaked, his voice hoarse with disuse. Was it loud enough to carry out of his cave past the larger cavern and out into the open air?

  “Help!” he tried again, trying for more volume.

  The singing stopped, so he cried once more, as loudly as he could. “Help!”

  “Hello?” a faint but lovely voice beckoned from the darkness. “Is someone there?”

  “Yes. Please help me!” Rowan rasped. Hope welled up painfully in his heart. “Please help!”

  “Are you trapped?” she called.

  “Yes. Please …”

  “I’m coming,” she called back.

  He had been tricked before by his own hallucinations and wondered if this was another cruel joke of death.

  “Keep talking,” the voice called. “Where are you?”

  “I’m in a cave at the back of the—stop!” Rowan’s stomach rose up to his throat as he realized the danger. Too late. He heard the woman scream.

  “What has happened?” he called out, but he knew the answer. “Get out of the cave while you can still move!”

  Over the next few moments, Rowan pulled against his chains in anguish as he tried to interpret the muffled sounds from the outer cavern.

  “Leave the cave!” he called back in desperation.

  The woman cried out something, but it was unintelligible, and Rowan closed his eyes in despair. He could not bear to think of the horrid death the woman was about to endure.

  “My Prince,” he whispered, “where are You?”

  Hours passed as he lay there, trying not to think of what was happening in the cavern outside. Then a faint glow of yellow light spilled into his cave. “Are you still there?” the woman’s voice called out.

  Rowan couldn’t believe his ears.

  “Yes … yes. I’m here. In this cave.”

  Rowan’s cave soon filled with light, and he blinked as he set his eyes upon the slender fo
rm of a young woman carrying a lantern and a shovel. He struggled to gain his feet but could barely manage to sit up.

  “You … you survived!” he said.

  “Obviously,” the woman said.

  “Are you real?” His voice quavered. “Or am I dreaming again?”

  Shadows danced off the woman’s face as she scrutinized him.

  “I am real,” she said carefully, “and you are not dreaming.”

  “They said nothing could stop the caterpillars. How did you …?”

  “I fell onto the white path that led here. They wouldn’t come onto the path. I think it is covered in salt. Perhaps that’s what kept them away.”

  The woman took a deep breath as if to shake the jitters from her. “It was quite ghastly, lying there for hours, hoping those nasty things wouldn’t eat me.” She made a disgusted face, then narrowed her eyes. “You said you were trapped, not chained,” she said. “Why are you here?”

  “Marauders killed my men and stole everything. They are … were holding me for ransom.”

  The woman raised a skeptical eyebrow.

  “I swear it is true,” Rowan said in desperation.

  After a moment of silent contemplation, she seemed to grow anxious. She looked behind her as if she might leave. Rowan held out his hand.

  “Please … please don’t leave me,” he pleaded. “They left me to die days ago—at least I think it was days. Please help me.”

  The woman settled a bit, looked at Rowan once more, and took a deep breath as if to accept the duty.

  “My name’s Mariah.”

  “I am Rowan … of Laos.”

  His name clearly meant nothing to her. She set the lantern down and cautiously approached Rowan, the shovel before her. When she saw his emaciated state, she relaxed her guard. Rowan stared at her as if she might disappear at any moment. When she hesitated, he broke his gaze and lifted the chains.

  “They are strong—too strong to break, I fear.”

  “Perhaps we can dig the stake out,” she offered.

  “I have tried to do that with my hands, but the ground was too hard. It is worth a try with the shovel.”

  Mariah set to the task. Rowan could offer no help. It wasn’t long before it became obvious that her digging was not working.

  Mariah swiped beads of sweat from her brow. “It’s impossible,” she said. She sat down, deep in thought. “At the entrance to the cavern there were things strewn about. Perhaps the keys to your locks are there.”

  She set the shovel against the wall and lifted the lantern. Rowan felt sick at the thought of being left in the dark again. She looked at him and seemed to read his thoughts.

  “I promise I will come back.”

  “Thank you, Mariah,” he said quietly.

  Mariah gave a quick grin and nodded, then disappeared into the outer cavern. Rowan waited anxiously until she appeared again.

  “Were there keys?” he asked.

  “No, but I found this.” She held up a long stake, similar to the one Rowan was chained to.

  “How will that help us?”

  Mariah inserted the tip of the free stake into the chain link closest to the ground and began to twist the link until it was bound upon itself. Then she used the stake as a lever, putting all of her weight on the other end. After two tries, the link snapped, and Rowan was free. He stayed sitting on the ground for a moment, wondering if he remembered how to stand erect. He slowly stood up, but his knees buckled. Mariah reached out to steady him.

  “Are you all right?” she asked.

  Rowan closed his eyes and nodded. “But I’m not sure that I can walk.”

  “Here, I’ll help you.” She positioned herself under his arm so that he could lean against her. Then, very slowly, they moved along the white salt path that led to the front of the cavern. Hundreds of moths circled above but did not come close enough to threaten them.

  They finally reached the cavern entrance. Rowan fell to his knees and turned his face upward to the blue sky. He blinked, nearly blinded by the late afternoon sun, but still rejoicing in his freedom. Mariah left him there and retrieved her horse. She rummaged in the saddlebags and handed him her water bottle and part of a biscuit.

  He started to guzzle the water, but Mariah pulled it away from him. “You must go slowly, or you will be sick.” She seemed fairly appalled at the sight of him now that she could fully see his feeble, filthy state.

  Rowan nodded and took small nibbles of the biscuit, followed by shallow drinks of water.

  “You ride Sierra,” Mariah said. “Once we get to my farm, we’ll get the rest of your chains off.”

  Mounting the horse was problematic because of Rowan’s physical state and his leg chains, but with Mariah’s help he finally managed to perch sidesaddle and lean heavily on the animal’s neck. Exhaustion was quickly overtaking him, and he wondered if he would even be able to ride very far.

  With frequent stops and much patience on Mariah’s part, they finally made it to her farmhouse. Rowan nearly fell from the horse, not caring if he even made it indoors, but Mariah refused to give up. She all but carried him inside and to a bed. The glorious softness of the mattress beneath him pulled him to slumber. He was vaguely aware that Mariah was occupied with various tasks nearby, but he didn’t care. He just hoped that the bed wouldn’t fade to rock and dirt again.

  HOMEWARD BOUND

  When Rowan awoke, at first he didn’t dare open his eyes.

  Please let this be real, he pleaded within himself.

  Then the delightful sound of Mariah’s voice filled the air with song and his heart with gladness. He finally opened his eyes to see the beautiful smile of his rescuer.

  “Good morning,” Mariah said.

  Rowan filled his lungs with delicious air.

  “I have a surprise for you.” She lifted his hand into the air.

  The shackles were gone. He looked at his feet, and they were unfettered too.

  “I don’t know how I can thank you.” Rowan rubbed his abraded wrists and looked up at her. To him, at that moment, she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Blue eyes peered at him from behind loose tousles of dark brown hair. She was tall, slender but strong, and though the features of her face were feminine, they were also quite distinctive, with high, slanted cheekbones and a generous mouth that revealed dimples when she smiled.

  “Why don’t you sit up if you can?” she said. “I have some breakfast for you, but you must remember to eat slowly.”

  Mariah helped him sit up and propped a pillow behind him. Then she brought a tray with a glass of diluted juice and a small bowl of warm corn mush with stewed fruit. To Rowan it looked like a meal fit for a king. He looked back up at Mariah. She smiled and tilted her head, then sat down in a chair next to him.

  “Do you have a family here with you?” he asked, peering down the hallway behind her.

  Mariah hesitated. “Since you’re certainly not much of a threat right now, I guess I can tell you I am alone here.”

  “I’m sorry to be such a burden to you,” Rowan said. “I’ll leave straightaway.”

  Mariah raised an eyebrow. “You wouldn’t make it ten feet past the front door in your condition. You can stay in this spare room until you’re strong enough to move about. After that, I’ve an outbuilding that would suit well until you can travel.”

  Rowan nodded. “I’m very grateful for your kindness.”

  “When you’re ready, there is water for washing … and some clothes in the armoire.” Mariah nodded with her head to the corner of the room.

  Rowan glanced at the armoire and back at Mariah with a puzzled look on his face. She dropped her gaze to her hands. “My husband died late last summer.”

  “I … I’m sorry,” Rowan said.

  Mariah nodded and blinked back tears, then forced a smile. “I’ve considered leaving the farm and joining my family, but that seems like giving up on Palson. He worked hard to build this farm, and we’ve only been here two seasons. I just can’
t leave—not yet anyway. I’ve decided to try it one season, and then … I’ll know.”

  “You’re a courageous woman, Mariah.”

  She blinked again, took a deep breath, and looked at Rowan. Her eyes narrowed. “So what’s your story? Where are you from?”

  Rowan carefully lifted the glass of juice and drank. He could feel the cool, soothing liquid run down his insides and settle into his stomach. It was a strange sensation.

  “As a child, I was an orphan, living on the streets of Laos. But then I met a man who taught me about the Prince.”

  Mariah’s eyes opened wide. She leaned forward and put her hand on his arm. “The King reigns…,” she began.

  “And His Son,” Rowan finished.

  “So you’re a Follower too?” she asked

  Rowan dropped his gaze. “Yes … but not a very good one.” He looked back into her eyes and saw no condemnation.

  “Sir Aldwyn took me under his tutelage and taught me the ways of the Prince and of the sword.” Rowan paused to take a bite of his corn mush. “I learned them well, especially the sword. After four-and-a-half years of training, I began to participate in the tournaments.”

  At that, Mariah looked confused. “Why?” she asked.

  Rowan wasn’t sure how to answer. She had obviously never heard of him, and he found himself grateful for that. “Because I was a foolish young knight seeking fame and fortune.” He grimaced and turned away for a moment.

  “So,” Mariah asked teasingly, “did you find it?”

  He looked back into her eyes.

  “Yes.”

  Mariah’s smile faded as she realized that he was not kidding.

  “I know it is hard to believe, considering how I look now.” Rowan lifted a wasted arm and shook his head. “But before my capture, I was quite strong. I fought in many tournaments and eventually became the champion of Laos. I was on my way to fight in the Camerian Games at Kroywen when I was taken by the marauders.”

  Mariah slowly straightened in her chair. Rowan wondered if she believed him. His story sounded far-fetched even to him. Nothing was said for a while as Rowan took another drink of juice and finished a few spoonfuls of mush.