She unlatched the buckskin flap, and pulled out a water-bag, nearly full of water. To her astonishment, everything was dry!
“How?”
Next she removed a tinderbox with fire-starting supplies, and a wooden box containing string and hooks. A cloth bag held several coins. She found a small pan to cook in and a tightly rolled blanket. Amazing!
The cover warmed her shoulders, warding off the night chill. At the very bottom was a leather-bound book along with some jerky and bread wrapped in cloth. She shoved a chunk of meat into her mouth.
“This is the best pack ever. How’d he get all this stuff in there?” She examined the inside and outside thoroughly but couldn’t figure it out. The water went down her parched throat like soothing honey. She took one chunk of bread and another bit of jerky. Maybe in the town, she’d use the coins to buy traveling supplies and clothes.
Glancing down the shadowy path, she decided to rest beside the rock. Once dawn broke, she’d move on. At least, thanks to the dragon, she had a good lead on any soldiers Darnel would send. Of course, also thanks to the dragon, she had to travel alone.
She clutched Dean’s medallion as she rolled up in his blanket like a cocoon on the leafy ground. Why did he fight Crystal? She’d never met anyone who purposefully risked their life to save someone else.
Just don’t get caught or what he did will be wasted.
* * * *
As the sun rose, golden rays of light filtered through openings in the forest canopy. A brilliant ray shone down on a springy patch of fern, wet with dew. A petulant blue jay fluttered from tree to tree, chirping a warning of her presence in their world. Soon, robins and finches replied to his calls, and the whole forest was filled with a joyful song.
Princess stopped in a shaft of light and spun around, arms outstretched, enjoying the bright sun on her face. Ah, freedom from Master’s awful, hate-filled laugh. Freedom from his vicious words. Freedom to be herself. She sighed, whoever that may be.
She hurried along the road, her pace swift and her heart full of excitement.
By time the sun had climbed directly overhead, her feet dragged over the rutted ground and again, her stomach begged for something to eat. She considered stopping for a short rest, when a scent drifting on the breeze caused her mouth to start watering. Cookies? She sucked in a long whiff through her nose. Was that apple pie?
Her pace hastened along after the delectable aroma. The road took a sharp turn, before coming upon the back of a rundown old shack. Yellow paint flecked the wood walls. Chickens pecked the dirt in amongst broken wagons, crates, and some kind of rusted cage on wheels. Maybe she’d offer to clean up in exchange for a pie.
A rooster crowed. From inside a crackly voice called out, “Keep yer feathers on, I’m a comin’!”
The back door flew open with a smack against the house. A hunched old woman, holding a bag of feed, stepped out onto the rickety wooden porch. Long, gray hair hung in her face and her threadbare blue dress was covered in dirt smudges. She hurled seed out across the yard.
Princess crept closer to get a better look at the lady. A startling realization hit her. She recognized the old woman’s face! Then the memory rushed back upon her: A long ride inside a stifling, dark carriage. Starving. The man refused to open the windows and let air in, or stop for food, saying they had to hurry before they lost her. Lost who?
Rubbing her temples, she focused hard to recall the details. Why had she been with the man, and who was he? All she could remember was the smell of cookies. A kind old woman finally gave her food and then filled the man’s hand with silver coins. Princess had fallen asleep only to wake up in another horse-drawn carriage heading up the mountain, this one with bars like an animal cage.
Now she clearly remembered meeting Lord Darnel for the first time. He’d seemed quite pleased with her. He’d called her one of the Illuminated, whatever that meant.
He’d filled the woman’s gnarled hand with even more golden coins saying, “Well done, Witch. Soon enough I’ll have her light snuffed out. It’s so easy when they are young.”
“Someone out t’ere?” screeched the old woman. Chicken feed poured from her hand like sand. “Show yerself.”
Princess dove behind an elderberry bush.
She remembered the old woman as sounding kind, and her house had been white stucco with thatched roofing. Yellow daisies and hollyhocks grew along a cobblestone walkway. Jasmine covered the porch banisters and roof. There had been a rosy-cheeked old lady, sitting in a rocker petting her fat, gray tabby. That house had not been rundown and littered like this.
The door slammed shut. Princess slowly rose and peered through the green branches, finding the backyard empty. Now was her chance. She scampered across the road, keeping hidden in the tall fern and brush. She didn’t want to leave the path and get lost in the woods, but it passed directly in front of the house. When the porch came into view, she gasped. A fat, yellow cat sat on the balustrade amongst thick jasmine. The pretty cottage was a facade, an illusion.
The witch wobbled outside and took a seat in rocker. Her long, tangled gray hair was now sparkling white and put up in a neat bun. The tattered frock had become a ruffled peach-colored dress. She set a basket of knitting in her lap as her gaze searched the road. The tabby stared out across the yard, tail twitching. Feline yellow eyes seemed to glare right at her.
Princess ducked behind a thick elm.
“Someone’s out t’ere, eh, my pet?”
The cat meowed.
“I’s feel ’em too,” said the witch. “But t’ey are coming from ta other direction. Strange, eh?”
Princess bolted into the woods, away from the enchanted house. Tree limbs swatted at her body like a whip. Up ahead, a fallen tree trunk blocked her path. Without slowing, she took a flying leap, feet leaving the ground. Nearly half way over, her skirt caught on a knobby branch. She tumbled forward, landing flat on her face, right in front of a fire pit. A campsite, tucked in a cluster of trees. She unhooked her dress from the log and searched for the occupant, but the area seemed deserted.
“Hello?” She called out not too loudly, hoping they might be near.
“How do you do?” replied a tree stump sitting across the fire from her.
She blinked and looked again. The speaking stump had a pair of sad looking eyes and a crooked grin. No, that can’t be.
Standing on two short knobby-looking legs, the strange creature bowed low. Its nose nearly touched the ground. “DezPierre, at your service, miss…uh…miss…” He paused.
She stared, brows pinched while trying to fit this creature into the list of beings she’d seen before. Now that she realized the tree was actually a living being, she could make out the nose, eyebrows and mouth. What she’d thought was grassy moss was instead a beard, and what looked like a bird’s nest made of straw and leaves was hair and a woven hat. His skinny arms were gnarled like limbs of a tree. She wanted to touch his face to check if he felt like a bark or skin.
He straightened. “This is where you would tell me your name, miss. If it pleases you to do so, that is.” The creature was gracious, regardless.
“Oh … umm … I would … but…” she stammered. Besides, telling people she was called Princess might give her escape away. Who knew the extent of Master’s reach in this part of the land? She stood and gave him a polite bow in return. “Miss will do.”
He scratched at his mossy beard a moment. “Humm, interesting, indeed… Miss.”
“Sir, I am sorry to stare. I’ve never seen anything— This is probably rude, too, but what are you?”
“I’m an Okbold, of course, Miss.” He was about three feet high. His clothes consisted of a vest the color of oak bark and pants made of leaves. “I am of the Oakabole Tree Family. Perhaps you have heard of my clan?” When she shook her head, he concluded with a click of his tongue, “You must not be from around here, if I may presume.”
“No, I’m not.” She dusted the dirt from her dress, not that it did much good.
“I was following the road over there…and…something frightened me. I’m sorry to burst in on you.”
“Oh, no. It is I who must apologize. I didn’t think to warn you.” He bowed again. “I was a bit startled to see you running through the woods. I was frightful of what may be pursuing you, I admit and wondered if I shouldn’t join you.”
A laugh burst from Princess, the first she’d had in a long time. Her laughter caused the corners of the Okbold’s mouth to turn up on his sorrowful face. Whatever the creature might be, he couldn’t be one of the beasties Crystal warned her about. DezPierre was much too polite.
She shook her head. “There was nothing pursuing me. I just got…spooked I suppose. I’m trying to get to a town up the road.”
“Ah, I see. Of course, traveling all alone, tuh-tuh—this shouldn’t be. DezPierre will help you now.”
“Are you heading that way, too?”
He nodded with a big grin. “We walk together, yes? Young miss should not be by her lonesome when another goes in the same direction.”
Relief filled her, washing away the pent up fear. She plopped heavily on the log. “That would be wonderful.”
He bowed again. “I was taking my morning meal, come join me. Then we will be off.” A bowl of boiled eggs sat next to the fire. “I find these delicious treats at witch’s cottage. She won’t miss them, indeed.” His eyes sparkled with mischief. “DezPierre also helped himself to this sweet bread on her windowsill. This she might miss but…” He took a long whiff of the loaf, “DezPierre could not resist.”
Her stomach rumbled. “Umm,” she hesitated, fearful of the witch’s food. “Maybe I’ll just have some eggs.”
DezPierre’s eyebrows rose. She hoped she hadn’t said too much. This was not the time to get careless, despite how kind the Okbold seemed.
He grinned. “No need to worry, Miss. This is witch’s personal batch. Not treats she saves for … er … passersby.” He broke off a corner and put it into his mouth. “DezPierre isn’t interested in taking long sleep. He has things to do. His nose tells him what is good to take, and…” he bent forward, “what is not. See?”
He offered her a piece. She watched him for a moment, and seeing he had no ill effects, greedily ate a large chunk. Buttery pumpkin filled her mouth and her stomach with pleasure. DezPierre handed her a couple of boiled eggs, a hint of a scowl on his bark face. She chastised herself for her rude manners and chewed slower.
“Ah, Miss feels better now, yes?”
“Yes, thank you.”
The Okbold gathered his belongings into a woven bag which he slung over his shoulder. He stamped out the fire with his bare foot. “You come with DezPierre to Yarholm. I’m meeting some of my kin there. We will arrive by nightfall.”
Glad to have someone to travel with, she followed her new friend deeper into the woods.
DezPierre asked where she came from, but she avoided telling him too much. Eventually, she needed to make up some kind of story about her past. She tried to work out a plausible explanation but her mind was a jumble of apprehension and fear.
Filling the awkward silence, he began talking about himself and his Okbold clan, describing all the wonderful things they did for Yarholm. They were good at planting seeds, milking cows, and collecting eggs from chickens. Some even did more domestic duties such as cleaning out homes and cooking meals.
“Now, our cousins, the Elmbole, they aren’t nearly as sociable and tend to keep to themselves deep in the woods. But the Okabole Clan, we like the comforts of a quiet town. Yes, indeed. Does Miss have friends or family in yonder village?”
“No.” She thought it safer telling him where she was going rather than where she came from. “I’m looking for a road called the King’s Highway.”
“Oh, poor brave Miss.” DezPierre shook his head, his voice dripping with dismay. “Poor disillusioned Miss. You plan to go to that remote city in the White Mountains? Do you not know what a long, perilous journey that is? Few ever actually reach the borders. And you are all by yourself. I do not envy you, poor child.”
Her heart sank at his words.
“DezPierre thinks you will like his Yarholm. Yes, it’s very nice place. Nice people. Nice Miss can save herself such heartache and disappointment if you find a home to call your own. DezPierre come visit often. He likes his town very much, so does his kinfolk.”
She remembered how far the half way point looked from Crystal’s back.
“Yes, Miss would be free to do as she pleased there. Yes, indeed.”
She grasped the medallion around her neck and then quickly let it go before he noticed. “I need to find my way home. I once lived there, I know it.”
“Humph! Foolishness, says I. You left, Miss. That speaks volumes. There’s thick forest to get through, rivers to cross, and tall mountains to climb. Ohhh,” DezPierre gave an agonized cry. “Happiness is right—”
DezPierre grabbed her arm, breaking her despairing thoughts, and pulled her down behind a fallen log.
They had come upon a clearing that sloped down into a wide meadow with a lone tree growing in the middle. On one end sat the white tents she’d seen from the dragon’s back. Their banners bore the tree crest matching her medallion. They were Alburnium soldiers! Would they be able to help her? Her eyes scanned the clearing, and on the opposite side was another camp partially hidden within the trees. To her dismay, they carried the Dark Lord’s insignia, the crescent moon and stars. She shrank beside DezPierre. Was Bezoar down in the valley as well? Her breath lodged in her throat. DezPierre urgently tugged at her arm, motioning for her to follow him back into the woods.
He bounced from one twiggy leg to the other, wringing his hands. “We must go now. It would be bad for us to be caught here by them.”
Princess, not wishing to face Bezoar hurried after him. “Do you think they spotted us?”
“I certainly hope not! I prefer to keep my head, thank you. Now we will hush and make haste. We must hurry to the town.” His little brown feet scurried along past the tall pines, not slowing until they’d reached the road. Dez darted through small openings between the thick growths. Once she lost him, but his continued lamenting about this being the worst thing ever to happen helped her find him again.
He stopped every now and then along the path to listen with his long ears. “The woods tell me all is clear,” he whispered. “They are not near yet. But soon, to be sure, yes indeed. They are terrible sneaks! Terrible soldiers. Fight. Fight. Fight. Why can’t everyone just get along, eh? DezPierre thinks it all foolishness.”
He ran on, not waiting for a response from Princess. She had a hundred questions, but figured she’d ask when they reached the town. Remaining in Yarholm was no longer an option, especially with Racan soldiers prowling around. She’d have to go on, one way or another.
DezPierre remained quiet for the rest of their trip, keeping up his quick pace and muttering to himself about the rotten troublemakers who spoil everything. Then he mumbled something about rallying together to fight them all off if they came anywhere near his home. He only hoped he’d get there in time to warn the others.
She spotted lights through the trees and her heart leaped. “Is that Yarholm?”
“Yes, yes, we’ve finally arrived,” he heaved a deep sigh. “We go straight to Inn for dinner and to get you a room. I’ll find my kin, indeed. They’ll know what to do about this catastrophe.”
Chapter 8
The sky turned from pale blue mixed with orange to cobalt. Finally, the thick spruce parted revealing Yarholm. Princess followed DezPierre, the Okbold, into the heart of the township.
Gray clapboard buildings lined the dirt road running through the center of town. Mud splattered the warped, wooden walkways. Some of the shop windows were cracked or busted out. In the center of the village sat the skeleton of a two-story meeting hall, left unfinished long ago from the way vines and brush grew up between the framework. She wondered why they’d never bothered to finish what might have been a grand build
ing.
If DezPierre considered this dilapidated hovel a nice town, he must have spent the majority of his life living in a cattle pen. Looking around, she wondered if Tarek had lived in such a place. Perhaps worse? She could see how he’d find Racah a paradise in comparison.
The Okbold walked a few strides in front of her, waving to the occasional passerby who never returned the greeting. He beamed an oblivious grin at her. “Nice, eh? Didn’t I tell you?”
At the end of the street, they passed a dilapidated stable, housing several sorry-looking horses, before entering an inn. The faded wood sign over the entrance read simply, Yarholm Inn and Bar.
She waited just inside the door a moment for her eyes to adjust to the dark interior. The small tavern, in contrast to the ghost-town appearance outside, bustled with activity. Bodies crammed around the bar like puppies at a mother’s teat.
DezPierre found a spot in a corner, near the front doors. Princess sat across from him, swiping away dirt and crumbs with the side of her hand. Faded lace curtains hung on the cracked windows and cobwebs swayed from the thick beams overhead.
Once sitting, exhaustion shrouded her unlike anything she’d ever experienced before. Never had she walked so far in her life. Better get used to long days of traveling if you hope to reach Aloblase. If such a hope was even possible.
A blonde waitress arrived, a head-full of curls tumbling across her scowling face. DezPierre ordered them both roasted pork and hot tea.
“And my friend here,” he gestured toward her, “will need a comfy room for the night. You give me the bill.”
Princess started to protest, but he held up a gnarled hand. "Shush now, Miss. I insist." The few coins she did posses needed to go toward purchasing items for traveling anyway.
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