King's Warrior (The Minstrel's Song Book 1)

by Jenelle Leanne Schmidt

  “Do we have to go in there?” Kamarie’s voice was strong, but there was a tremble in her hands where she was holding Tor’s reins.

  Oraeyn looked back at her. “I can go in first and come back to tell you if it’s all right, if you want,” he said sympathetically. He could not fault her for not wanting to go into a dark cave without knowing where it led.

  “That sounds like a goo…” Darby started, but the princess cut her off before she could finish.

  Kamarie sat up, straightened her shoulders, and took a breath. “N-no,” she said a little shakily, “we will all go in together.” She heeled Tor into a slow walk, and the three of them cautiously approached the cave opening. Suddenly, Oraeyn stopped.

  “Who are you?” he demanded suspiciously.

  Taken aback, Kamarie and Darby stopped, shared a questioning glance, and then scanned the path before them. At first, Kamarie could not see who or what Oraeyn was talking to, and for a moment, she thought that the young man had gone completely insane. Then she rubbed her eyes and saw the figure standing at the mouth of the cave.

  It was a boy, eleven or twelve years old, certainly no older. He was small and slight for his age and looked as though he had never had a truly decent meal in his life; his size made him appear very young, but his face bore intelligence and wisdom that belied his height. He was dirty and disheveled, and his clothes were in tatters. His feet were bare, and there was dried blood on both of his knees. He was gazing at them with a look of bewildered amazement on his face. He had fiery golden-red hair that looked as wild as the rest of him; it sprang from his head in untamed curls. His eyes were a deep amber color, too light to be brown but too dark to be anything else; they reminded Kamarie of molten gold or lava, and they flashed with a mixture of defiance, sorrow, and surprise. Before she could think about what she was doing, Kamarie dismounted and approached the boy.

  “What is your name?” she asked gently as she walked towards him with an outstretched hand.

  The boy shrank from her hand as if it were deadly poison. He glanced up at her and their eyes locked. A shock went through Kamarie as she felt a recognition of something long forgotten shoot into her. The youth seemed to experience the same thing, for he went rigid, and looked at her sharply. His face suddenly looked too old, too wise for his apparent youthful age.

  “My name is Yole,” the boy said hesitantly. “Who are you? I didn’t know there was anyone else in these mountains.”

  “I am Kamarie, and my two companions are Oraeyn and Darby,” Kamarie said, still puzzling over what she had seen in the youth’s eyes. It had seemed as though she was looking through a window and seeing a very different world than the one she had expected. There was something strangely familiar about this youth, like a part of a dream that has faded with time but was never completely forgotten.

  Oraeyn stepped forward. “What are you doing out here alone?”

  Yole glanced at his feet. “I was working for a man in the village of Peak’s Shadow.”

  Kamarie’s eyes met Oraeyn’s in startled recognition; he nodded and touched the hilt of his sword as if expecting an attack. Yole continued without noticing their reaction to the name that he had uttered, “I fell asleep while I was watching the herd. I know I shouldn’t have, but I was listening to the other shepherds’ playing their pipes and the music just made me feel drowsy and tired and I couldn’t help but fall asleep.

  “The next thing I knew, Brant was waking me up and telling me that I had to leave, that I should be more careful around people. I think he was accusing me of stealing sheep or something, but I didn’t. I don’t have any use for sheep of my own. I wouldn’t know what to do with them. I certainly don’t have any place to put them,” Yole’s tone was open and slightly confused. “I’ve been wandering through these mountains trying to find my way out for a long time now. I don’t have any food left, and I think I’m lost.” He sniffed, and wiped his nose with his grimy hand.

  Kamarie winced and said, “We have some food.”

  At the same time, Oraeyn asked, “Did you say Brant?”

  The boy looked at Kamarie gratefully, then turned to Oraeyn. “Yes sir. The man I worked for was named Brant.”

  “Well, now, that’s just the man that we need to find, isn’t it?” Darby said, causing them all to jump. It was sometimes fairly easy to forget that Darby was even there she spoke so little.

  “Yes, Darby, it is,” Kamarie said, surprised that she had not been as quick as either Darby or Oraeyn to make that connection. Perhaps it was the strange tug of familiarity that she felt towards the boy, or perhaps it was the worry about Oraeyn, but either way Kamarie was glad to be reminded of their mission.

  “He’s a good man,” Yole said quickly, darting a look at them as if he thought they would start accusing him of being ungrateful, “looks out for his people. He’s not really the leader of the village or anything, but everyone looks up to him. Whenever there’s trouble, it’s brought to Brant, and he deals with it, never saw anyone more fair in his treatment of others. And his family is nice too: kind, generous people. I don’t hold a thing against them. I don’t know what I did, but I know I probably deserved to be kicked out, because Brant wouldn’t ever issue a punishment if it weren’t deserved.”

  “Does he still bend knee to his King?” Kamarie asked thoughtfully.

  Yole stared at her. “Of course he does!” he exclaimed. “I told you, he’s a good man, follows the rules. Fair. Of course he bends knee to King Arnaud, he thinks very highly of him, he always speaks of the king with respect and admiration. He’s a man of character, Brant is, loyal to the end.”

  “All right, all right!” Kamarie held up her hands. “I was not questioning his character. We just have to be careful in these difficult days.”

  The defensiveness went out of Yole’s eyes. “I’m sorry too, but Brant, he was good to me. Paid me more than I deserved, sent me out with plenty of food, well, it would have been enough food if I hadn’t gotten lost. Most of the other people I worked for used whips when they sent me away. I was chased out of one town by the villagers, they threw rocks and threatened to kill me if I ever came back.”

  Oraeyn stared at him. “What did you do?”

  “I don’t know, really,” he said, “but it must have been something awful.”

  “Did you ever consider, young man,” Darby suddenly spoke up, “that perhaps they were in the wrong?”

  Yole’s eyes got big, and he looked scared. “No! Never! I wouldn’t even let the thought enter my head. I just broke some rule and had to be punished for it, that’s all.”

  Kamarie looked at him sympathetically. “We are not trying to get a confession out of you, we are just trying to better understand, we do not wish you any harm. You do not have to be afraid of us.”

  Yole looked trustingly at her. “I believe you,” he said, “I don’t know why, but I do believe you.” He glanced distrustfully at Oraeyn and Darby, and Kamarie understood what he was saying.

  “These are my friends, they do not wish you any harm either. We are all on the same side,” she said, “would you like to travel with us? We promise we won’t chase you away. If you decide to travel with us, you have the King’s protection on you. I give my word that we will not harm you and neither will anyone else so long as I can prevent it.”

  The boy looked thoughtful for a moment, then he said, “But you are going to Peak’s Shadow. I can’t go back there, Miss.”

  “You can if you are with me,” Kamarie said proudly, her head high and her blue eyes flashing. At that moment, Oraeyn thought that she looked every inch the Princess of the Realm, and she was suddenly, startlingly, beautiful.

  “Well, I suppose…” Yole said quietly, “I would like to … to…” he stopped, a shy and timid look on his face that made him suddenly appear young.

  “Like to what?” Kamarie asked kindly.

  Looking up, Yole gave his first smile, and tentatively said, “To belong.”

>   Kamarie was a little taken aback, not knowing what to say to the young boy. But it was Oraeyn who spoke, “Consider yourself one of us then, you can even ride with me.”

  Yole looked up at the older boy with an expression of pure joy on his face. From that moment on, Oraeyn was his hero, and the youth did everything he could to emulate Oraeyn’s every move.

  “Well, now that we’ve spent all this time out here, we might as well just get back to our journey,” Darby’s voice reminded them all of what they were supposed to be doing. “Yole, have you been inside that cave up there?”

  The boy hesitated. “Y-yes.”

  “Does it go anywhere? Or is it just a big cave?” Oraeyn asked.

  “It’s a tunnel that will take you to the other side of the mountain,” Yole replied.

  “Good, then we are on the right path,” Kamarie breathed a sigh of relief, “let’s go!”

  They spurred their horses on towards the cave, Yole riding behind Oraeyn on the big chestnut gelding. As they got closer to the cave, the music became more and more insistent; it seemed to pierce right through Oraeyn and into the deepest areas in his heart. It called, beckoned, and pulled at him until he thought he might be ripped from the saddle of his horse if he did nothing to answer it. He could not believe that the others could not hear the beautiful melody, but he dared say nothing, after the way that his first mention of the music had been received.

  Finally, they reached the opening of the cave. According to Yole, there was only one tunnel, so they did not have to worry about getting lost. Inside the cave, the music echoed and bounced off the walls, sweet and lilting, dark and haunting until Oraeyn could not bear it anymore. He let out a yell and dropped off of his horse, kneeling on the ground with his hands over his ears. Kamarie stopped short when she heard Oraeyn’s cry of distress; reining Tor around sharply she dismounted and ran to Oraeyn.

  “Are you all right? What’s wrong?” she questioned him, concerned and confused.

  Oraeyn moaned, “It’s here. It’s all around me; I can’t get away from it! I tried, Kamarie, I tried, but I can’t… can’t push it away any more. If I don’t answer the call it will kill me, I cannot pass through this cave without finding the source. It’s tearing me apart!” His last words ended in a cry of anguish as tears sprang into his eyes.

  Kamarie knelt next to him and took his head in her hands, raising it until she was looking into his eyes. He was in obvious torment, and it hurt her to see it. “Are you sure it is somewhere in this cave?” she asked quietly.

  “I am more sure of it than I have ever been of anything in my entire life,” was the shaky reply.

  “Then you must find it,” Kamarie said, “and I will help you.”

  “How can you help?” Oraeyn’s distress was clear. “You can’t hear the music; you can’t find the source.”

  Suddenly, Yole was next to them. “I can take you to it.”

  Kamarie looked at him sharply. “You can hear the music?”

  “No,” Yole said, “but I know where it is coming from.” Then an excited look came into his eyes as he regarded Oraeyn, “Y-you’re him!”

  “Him who?” Kamarie asked.

  “The… but it couldn’t be, the dragon thought none existed… but it has to be... and you’re him!”

  “Dragon?” Kamarie asked, she knew there had been dragons in Aom-igh at one time long ago, but they had gone into hiding many years prior and no one had seen or heard from one since. Some believed that they were actually just a legend or a myth, although Kamarie had been taught that they were real. In any case, everyone believed that they were extinct.

  “Never mind, I’ll take you to it!” Yole took off down the tunnel.

  Leading the horses, Kamarie, Oraeyn, and Darby followed the boy a few more steps, then the tunnel abruptly changed directions. Suddenly, they were standing in the room full of light. Kamarie and Darby stood, transfixed by the sight of the ring of stalagmites and stalactites. Oraeyn started to walk, slowly, as if in a trance, towards the ring of rock. He stopped when he reached it and put a hand up to shield his eyes. There was a moment of hesitation, and then he stepped forward and entered the ring.

  “Oraeyn!” Kamarie leaped after him, but was too late. The stalagmites seemed to get larger and larger, and the spaces between them slowly vanished, leaving Kamarie, Darby, and Yole in darkness once more.

  “It!” Yole yelped and then gulped in fear. “It didn’t do that before.”

  “Before?” Kamarie asked.

  “When I went in, it didn’t close up behind me,” Yole answered.

  A few seconds, that seemed to last for years, passed, and then a burst of light shot out from one side of the ring. The spaces opened up again, and suddenly the room was flooded with light once more.

  “Oraeyn!” Kamarie shouted, desperately hoping he was all right.

  For a breathless moment of terror, no answer came. Then, there he was, striding out of the ring of light. Kamarie held up a hand to shield her eyes, the squire seemed taller somehow, older, and in his hand was a glowing blade that shimmered and threw off golden sparks of light. His stride was sure, and his steps were light. When he got closer, he lifted the sword high; it was beautiful, pure gold, and yet somehow it seemed to carry a light within it that glowed and filled the cavern with sparkling rainbows. The handle looked as though it might have been made of silver, and it seemed to fit in Oraeyn’s hand as though it had been made for him.

  Then he sheathed the sword and became Oraeyn again. Kamarie vaguely wondered what had happened to his old sword and sheath, but she pushed the question aside. When the sword was no longer in sight, it seemed as though the room was suddenly empty, and Kamarie was filled with an unexplainable ache.

  “It is you.” Yole breathed in awe.

  Oraeyn looked at them. “I found it.”

  ❖ ❖ ❖

  Brant did not know where to begin looking for the murderer, but he felt a pull towards the Mountains of Dusk. He had always trusted his hunches in the past. He had avoided danger and even death many times before by following his instincts, so, he headed off in the direction that he had sent Yole just a few weeks before. Had it been such a short time ago? It seemed as though ages had rushed by over the past few days. He had lost everything dear to him, had dug up and reclaimed his past, and now felt ready for anything. His senses were keen and his reflexes were as sharp as they had ever been. He was not certain what danger he was following, but he knew that it was heading north, towards the castle of Aom-igh, towards King Arnaud and the capital city of Ayollan. He also knew that it was terrible and merciless, guided by some dark madness that put them all in danger.

  Brant thought of Arnaud as he rode. They had been friends years ago, when Arnaud was just a youth, a farm boy really. Arnaud had saved his life, although at the time he had not been aware that he was saving Brant’s life. And, Brant thought, if he had known then whom he was saving, he probably would have just as soon let me die. But Brant knew, and Brant remembered.

  It was Arnaud who had given him the chance to start a new life, who had befriended him when everyone dear to him had turned him away. Arnaud found him on the border of the Harshlands and brought this stranger home. Brant remembered that day as if it had just happened.

  He had been running all day, through this blistering desert of burning sand and sharp stones in this strange land. He knew he could not stop, or they would catch him. His little boat had been completely ruined when it crashed up against this shore the night before, and he had been running ever since. They were there, only a step behind him. They could travel so swiftly, so silently; how had he ever hoped to escape? And now he was here, in this horrible wasteland, this rocky, harsh place with the Dragon’s Eye beating down on him mercilessly. He squinted ahead of him, barely able to see his own hand in front of his face anymore; it was too bright, too hot. He would die from thirst and exhaustion if he stayed here. How could anything survive in this horrible wilderness?
Was there any end to this place?

  He had finally given way to exhaustion and fallen down, accepting his fate. Death would be kinder than they would be. Then he heard a noise. Had they caught up to him so fast?

  “Hey? Are you all right? Do you need some help?” a voice from the sky asked.

  Brant rolled over onto his back and saw the face of a young boy, maybe in his early teens, anxiously peering at him. He sat up and stretched. “I must have fallen asleep,” he lied.

  “You fell asleep? While in the Harshlands? Do you know how dangerous that could have been?” The boy’s voice was full of incredulity, but there was also a note of awe in it at the bravery of this youth who appeared to be the same age as he. Arnaud had paused for a moment, and then asked, “Do you have any place to go? My name is Arnaud.”

  Brant looked at him blankly. “No, I don’t have any place to go. And my name is Brant.”

  “You don’t?” Arnaud looked surprised. “Well, you can come home with me then, Brant.” He rolled the name around on his tongue as if it tasted strange. “If you’re willing to work, we can give you a place to stay.”

  Brant had accepted Arnaud’s offer, and that was how the friendship had begun. Arnaud had even been the one to introduce him to Imojean. A pang sliced through Brant’s heart, Imojean... he shook his head. If he started thinking about what he could not change he would never get anywhere, and he might go mad in the process. He had grieved, and now he must move on. He must be stronger than his enemies, he must be… Oh Imojean, he thought in despair, I tried so hard to leave it all behind, for you… for you.

  He did not know why he felt so certain that this attack had been directed at him, but he did. He was absolutely sure that after all these years his past was rising up to haunt him. And he decided that even if he were wrong, those who had done this would pay, would pay dearly. Pictures of his family and his lost, happy life danced in his head as he rode towards the Mountains of Dusk. Faces that he had loved dearly rose up before him. Voices of those whom he had embraced with his whole heart as he had never embraced anyone before whispered in his ears. A terrible gnawing ache welled up within his heart. With a shout of rage and pain he kicked Legend into a gallop. He was running again, but this time he was not running away. He would never run away again.