The waitress tucked a wayward lock behind her ear, giving Princess a curious look before nodding to the Okbold. When she left, DezPierre politely excused himself and hurried across the room to speak with his kin.
Princess glanced around the tavern, wondering why the other patrons kept gawking at her before turning back to their companions with a whisper. Yet, once the food arrived, she concentrated on eating instead of the people’s rude stares.
The meat melted in her mouth. Her stomach rumbled appreciatively as she tore into a buttery biscuit. DezPierre, though, returned to his seat, set the crumpled napkin in his lap and daintily forked his herbed potatoes, chewing slowly as if savoring each bite. Her cheeks warmed with embarrassment over her bad manners. She had been taught better than to eat like a starved dog.
If DezPierre noticed, he didn’t show it. Instead, he told her all about the villagers, what kind of houses they had and how most farmed or raised livestock for a living. “Lucky people, to have us around to help.”
After a second cup of hot tea, she began to relax and enjoy the laughter, talk, and food before a group of Okbolds approached the table and asked to join them. DezPierre nodded, and Princess scooted over to make room. She felt awkward and large beside to the small creatures.
The one sitting next to her- slender like a willow with long, cascading hair-like tendrils growing from his head- was called Striphen. He leaned in toward DezPierre and whispered, “Our scout has left with our message for King Darnel’s captain.” His bulging eyes grew twice their normal size. “Let him know we’re ready to fight, iffen it comes to such. If the pushy skunks try any tricks, we’ll be ready.”
Princess spewed a mouth full of tea across the table. The Okbolds stared at her in shocked surprise as she quickly apologized saying the drink was hotter than anticipated.
The phrase, Darnel’s captain pounded in her ears. Bezoar! She’d fallen right into the enemy’s hand! Did DezPierre realize where she’d come from? Was he keeping her close until he had the chance to turn her over to the Racan army for a reward?
Her stomach roiled, and she feared doing worse than spewing tea over everyone.
DezPierre patted her arm. “Miss, is you ill?” He explained to his friends. “The poor child was lost in the woods. Lucky DezPierre found her, yes? I help and bring her here.” He leaned closer to Striphen and whispered rather loudly, “But she is sorely misguided about finding that White Road. We all know no such thing exist anymore.”
Wanting to run, She leaped to her feet. The other Okbolds surrounding the table blocked her retreat. Even if she did bolt, they would certainly suspect her. She remained frozen her mind racing for a plausible excuse to get away from them.
DezPierre studied her for a second, before he opened his mouth to say something.
The doors to the inn burst open. A burly youth with an angry scowl stood in the entrance. He held a three-foot log in his upraised hand and a loaded slingshot that swayed like a pendulum in the other. His pale blue eyes scanned the now quiet room.
“I’ve had enough!” His voice rumbled like a snowy avalanche. “Enough of you blasted little pests planting weeds in my crops! Enough of you spoiling my milk and everything else I try to do! Heads will roll. I swear it!”
DezPierre hopped from his seat. “Oh dear, Jerin’s on a rampage again. Stay here, Miss. I need to help smooth this out.” He hurried off to face the irate youth.
The other creatures dove beneath the tables or behind the bar. Some even leaped through the nearest opened windows. Chairs scraped over the dirty floor. Five men surrounded the boy. Behind them, a handful of braver Okbolds stood in their shadows, DezPierre one of them.
Jerin glared at them all, his stubbly chin jutted out in contempt. He nearly matched the height of a grizzly, with sinewy arms and legs thick like pillars, though he looked no more than twenty summers.
The log swayed threateningly above his block-shaped head.
“Might as well back off,” Jerin warned in a deadly tone. “This is between me and them.”
A tall, lanky man rushed from the kitchens. In a soothing voice, he coaxed, “Now Jerin, you know this won’t help a thing. Not one bit.” Hands up with palms outward, he edged closer. “Be a good lad and go on home. Take it up with the town leaders tomorrow.”
Princess spotted the blonde waitress standing behind the bar, biting her lip, brows pinched in apprehension.
Jerin shook his head. “Uh-uh. I’m not wasting my time with them anymore. They’re as much afraid of these little pests as you are. Their mischief ends now!” A vein bulged along his forehead. “And it’s not anybody’s business, but mine. So stand back!”
One of the Okbolds, a bright green color, darted toward the door. Princess couldn’t believe how fast the little creatures ran.
Jerin spotted him and quick as a blink, hurled a rock from the slingshot. The stone smacked the back of the its head, and with a screech, it tumbled over several times before landing next to a table where his kin huddled underneath. They whimpered and clung to each other in utter fright.
The wounded creature sat up, rubbing its obviously hard skull, eyes now red with anger. Crouching like a cat, it pounced toward Jerin. His stick connected at mid-jump and sent the stumpy little beast flying into the wall where it moved no more.
“That’s one.” Jerin turned to the men. “Now move.”
Princess eased away from the table but first had to disengage two Okbolds from her skirt. They’d been clinging to the hem, trying to hide. She wove through the crowd to a place next to the bar where she had a clearer view. This was her chance to get away from DezPierre, but she had nowhere to go now that darkness had settled. Hopefully Jerin would manage to drive them all out. From the corner of her eye, she caught the blonde waitress staring at her. Princess moved away, feeling uncomfortable.
Another man on Jerin’s right said, “Please listen to Rog. You don’t want to go busting up his tavern, do you? Just put the stick down.”
None of the men made an effort to get any closer. They seemed to fear him as much as the creatures did.
“I don’t plan to bust up the tavern, Rog. Just their heads, that’s all. They’ve got to go, and they’ve got to go now.”
DezPierre spoke up. “Oh, come now, boy. Why all this anger? Come and have a sit with Ol’ Dez, yes? We work this out. We learn to live together and get along, yes?”
“No!” Jerin brought the stick down over his head. The club hit the ground so hard, it splintered into pieces. DezPierre darted under a table and continued his peace talks from there.
“Foolish boy! Is this necessary? I tries to be reasonable. All this-” He waved his twig like arms around, “-is big mistake, yes? Perhaps you not clear all weeds from your fields before planting, eh? Is this not possible? And perhaps you set milk too close to stove and it sours, no?”
Jerin paused a moment as if considering. “No. I planted a whole field of corn and instead, produced blasted dandelions. The milk came out of the cow soured and somehow curdled into moldy cheese in a matter of a day. So, no, the mistake wasn’t mine.”
DezPierre glanced at the others, and with an innocent laugh, said, “Oh… well then… I thinks everyone had better… run!”
The room exploded in scraping chairs and upturned tables. Okbolds scattered like bugs when a light suddenly came on. Jerin swung right and left with his busted club. The men surrounding him grabbed chairs to beat the creatures with. Even the bartender found a mace from behind the bar and clobbered a few as well. Once the room cleared, the men filed back in and tried to set the place in order.
The bartender, Rog, chuckled, “Worth a bit of broken furniture to have a night’s peace from the little beasts.”
Princess gaped. These people actually hated the Okbolds. She let out a long breath’ glad to be rid of Dez for the time being. She considered leaving right then and there, but the darkening sky stayed her. In the morning, she’d have to depart early before he found her again.
Jerin
sat on a stool among the other men. The waitress, still scowling, served them each a mug. He gulped his down in one swallow. He wiped the foam from his lips. “If we band together, we can get them out of here for good. It’s been done before. We can do it again, just like tonight.”
The waitress spoke up, fury tainted her voice. “You think you accomplished anything? What a bunch of knuckleheads you are. All you’ve done is angered them. They’ll be back.” She shook her head while filling more mugs. “You wouldn’t have so many problems if you and your Pa would just give them what they want.”
Everyone around him nodded and muttered hopelessly. Princess waited at the edge of the bar, wondering if she should speak up about the Okbold’s plan. She feared drawing attention to herself. What she heard next, froze her in place.
“Lydia’s right, you know.” A burly man in mud-caked coveralls said, “Ain’t nobody around here that knows how to fight them and make them leave. An’ Lydia’s right about them getting us back later. All you done, you dimwit, is make more trouble for everyone.”
Jerin’s head sagged. “Remember the trolls? They nearly destroyed this town. Took near everything we owned. King Shaydon’s warriors came and cleared them out. If only…” he sighed. “I’m tired of working and working and them ruining everything I try to do. Pa and me aren’t ever going to get anywhere with them around. We have debts. We’ll lose our land if we can’t produce a good crop.”
Lydia waved her hand. “So? You go down to the apothecary and see if he’ll buy the dandelions. I hear he uses the flowers in some special kind of tea.”
Jerin frowned at her.
“All we can do,” she sighed, “is try to make the best of every situation.”
Jerin slammed his big fist on the counter and exclaimed, “That’s your solution, then? You all are going to just sit and take it? Make the best of it?”
Another man pulled a stool up beside Jerin. “Maybe so. They’re not leaving their comfy little town. I heard them whispering together tonight about some meeting before you came in. Something’s up with them, no doubt.”
Princess blurted. “They’re planning to side with Lord Darnel’s army. They’re camped not too far from here.”
Every eye up and down the bar bore into her.
She shifted uncomfortably, figuring she’d already opened her big mouth, again. Still, he should know. “There’s also a unit camped nearby with a tree emblem on their banners.”
The noise level ceased until all she heard were crickets chirping outside and Jerin shifting on his stool. Perhaps she’d made a mistake. Perhaps she should have kept that information to herself. She took a step backward, clutching the key to her room. Perhaps now would be a good time to go off to bed.
The waitress called Lydia blurted. “She came in with one of their leaders, that one named DezPierre. Don’t listen to her. She’s probably on their side and trying to set a trap for us. Probably going to go tell them all we said.”
“I am not!” Princess retorted hotly. How could the blonde woman accuse her without even knowing her? This wasn’t a nice town in the least. “He just helped me find this place. He’s not like a real friend or anything.”
Chin out and back straight, she met Jerin’s firm stare, despite the trembling in her knees. “I’m searching for the road to Aloblase.”
She knew from his narrow-eyed expression, he was trying to measure her, see if he should listen or not. Finally he shook his head and faced his friends again.
Anger boiled up sending heat all the way up past her ears. “I don’t care what any of you think. I only came here in the first place because the dragon said you’d be willing to help me.”
“Dragon?” repeated Rog.
Jerin stood, towering over her. “There are no dragons around here... unless… you’re referring to the one belonging to the Dark King? The one that guards his lands?” He shook his head, waving his hands. “Can’t be. Nobody’s ever seen that blasted monster and lived to tell about it.”
“I didn’t mean...” Princess stammered. “I meant …”
Lydia eased up behind her. Princess felt a tug on her singed hair. She spun to find the woman had a strange look of wide-eyed shock.
Regaining her composure, Lydia smirked with a forced laugh. “Girl, you can fool some of these people, but I’ve seen and heard everything. I think you should go on and save your fairy tales for the fireside, eh?”
Gritting her teeth, she fought the urge to tell the whole lot of them off. Better to not draw any more attention to herself.
Fine, then.
Off from the main room hung a sign reading Guest Rooms and pointed toward a hallway. She turned and stormed away from the group, heading down the long corridor searching the door numbers for the match to the number on her key. Hysterical laughter echoed after her.
Chapter 9
Princess dumped the backpack’s contents onto the narrow straw bed, reviewing her provisions. She marveled at everything the light-weight pack held, but was there enough to get her to Aloblase? She counted ten gold coins all with the tree emblem. Racan money had Darnel’s face on both sides. Which did they take in Yarholm?
She sighed, realizing how ignorant she’d appear going around asking stupid questions normal people should know. If only Dean hadn’t sacrificed himself. She closed her eyes, not wanting to think about him anymore. Nor Tarek’s refusal to escape with her. Though he expected her to come crawling back. A pang twisted her gut as she realized she might never see him again, because she’d never return. No matter what. Better to push both of them out of her mind and focus on what was ahead, not behind.
A wobbly table, topped with a washbasin and mirror, sat in the corner. A bath would feel wonderful. Such niceties had to wait until she found a more hospitable place. Her torn dress needed to suffice as well.
She splashed water on her face, then peered into the mirror. A gasp escaped at the sight staring back with tangled brown hair, dark circles beneath honey-brown eyes, and scrapes across the cheeks. Must have happened when she’d run away from the witch’s house. She shuddered, not wanting to think about that right now either. Too bad the amazing pack didn’t contain a brush. Dragging her fingers through her locks, she hoped for the best, but finally gave up. Who cared anyway?
Returning to the bed, she picked up the small leather book. Inside the cover she read: Sir Dean, the King’s Messenger. A lump formed in her throat. She held up his medallion and pulled hers from inside her bodice. Slipping the chain through hers, she let them rest together around her neck. Every time she sought comfort from hers, she’d be reminded of what he’d done for her and reminded to never stop until she reached her destination. No more thinking about settling down. Somehow, she’d get to Aloblase.
A knock sounded at the door. She froze, her thumb pressed on the silver edges of Dean’s book. Please don’t be DezPierre. She wanted no more to do with that blasted creature.
Princess answered to find Lydia, Rog, and Jerin. Lydia introduced herself, and the two men both looking uncomfortably sheepish. To her surprise, they all filed in uninvited.
“We need to talk to you.” Lydia ordered, arms crossed over her chest.
Rog took a chair and placed it next to the window. Jerin sat on the edge of the bed, clasping his big hands in front of his knees.
Princess quickly scooped her belongings into the pack. “Look, I don’t know what all this is about, but I don’t want any trouble. I’ll be out of here in the morning.”
“Trouble is what you got, dearie,” Lydia answered. “Whether you want it or not. There were unfriendly ears out there that heard your remarks about the dragon.” Her hands went to her hips as she placed herself directly in front of Princess. “If you’ve been tangled up with the Racan King’s beast, and from your scorched hair and clothes, I’d say you were. Then there may be a price on your head.”
Princess’s mouth dropped. She sank onto the bed, heart pounding. They were going to turn her in. Glancing at the door, she considered
running. The woman must have read her expression because she sidestepped to block the exit.
Jerin stood with an awkward bow. “Please excuse Lydia, Miss. She’s all business. Sounds like maybe you have an interesting story. We just need to be certain you’re not on-” He lowered his voice to a whisper, “-King Darnel’s side.”
“Since you came in with one of his servants, we’re a bit concerned. I’m sure you understand?” Rog finished.
Words clotted in her throat as she realized how close she’d come to being caught. And so soon. She hadn’t even gotten out of the shadow of Master’s castle yet.
“She don’t look good,” Rog wagged his head.
“Where you from, kid?” Jerin sounded interested. “And what is your name?”
Princess glared at him, wondering if she should trust anyone. Especially someone who called her kid. She might not know her age, but she knew she’d outgrown the “kid” status. Her mind raced to form some kind of story to pacify them. Anything to keep them from turning her in. She’d not go back.
Lydia moved to sit beside her on the bed. In a surprisingly gentle voice, she said, “We want to help you, honey. Did you escape from Racah? Or are you from another town in this area?”
Basically, she couldn’t totally trust anyone. Yet, as she studied each person, she saw what she hoped was concern on their pinched faces.
“I lived in the Racah. I… I’m an orphan… and was working in the castle.” She tweaked her story. “I wasn’t happy there and wanted to leave. A friend-” Her throat constricted thinking of Tarek, “-told me how to get down the mountain. The dragon almost got me. But—” She shrugged her arms.
The three eyed each other with what looked like apprehension. Lydia gave a slight shudder, before turning back to her.
Jerin, leaning against a wall, rubbed at his ruffled blonde hair when he asked, “How’d you end up with that scamp, DezPierre?”
“I got lost in the woods. He seemed nice. Real polite. I had no idea Dez was one of the Darnel’s servants or I would have run from him, too.”
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