It looked to Chureal as if the girl had been run through with a sword or a spear. It was a sight that would sicken most ten-year-old girls, but not Chureal. She had been on several battlefields now and had seen the worst of what people did to each other with steel. She touched the girl first, and then the man. It didn't surprise her that the man's breathing slowed to a stop and his life slipped painlessly from him.
The girl, however, settled down, and a heavy sweat broke out, sending beads of fluid running down her face. Her fever was broken, and the magic of the jewel began to slowly fuse back together her torn and shredded insides. The villagers were back on their feet, mumbling fearfully in their strange language. They watched Chureal wearily but kept their distance. Chureal studied the wounded girl and noticed for the first time that she was dressed far better than the rest of the villagers. In fact, the dress she wore, were it not torn, bloody, and filthy, was one that a woman of high station would have worn. Chureal knew this, for her mother had washed for such people when she was but a child. Chureal felt the soft material, and it instantly made her think of the dwarven queen and her maids who wore only the finest velvets and silks.
An older woman braved her fear and stepped up. She looked into the cart at the man and burst into a horrible fit of sobbing when she saw that he was dead. She looked at Chureal pleadingly, but when she saw a tear slide down the little goddess's cheek, her expression hardened, and she took an old worn blanket she'd been holding and covered his corpse with it. While she was fussing with the blanket, the highborn girl's eye's fluttered open, and her hand went to her wounded stomach. This caused the old woman to gasp in surprise.
She made a strange gesture with her hands, and then fell to her knees again, wailing out words in her strange language. "Are you an angel?" The highborn girl rasped up at Chureal. Her accent was strong, but her words were easily understandable because it was the same accent Chureal's mother had spoken with.
"Shhh," Chureal put her finger to her lips. After the girl closed her eyes again, Chureal began stroking her dirty black hair.
The townspeople seemed to be growing anxious now, and all the men, save for the one Chureal had healed, were murmuring what sounded like curses. The old woman, too, though not as obviously. The curses seemed to be aimed at the highborn girl, and after enduring several menacing stares while a couple of smelly old men removed the dead man from the wagon, Chureal felt uneasy enough to call for Cobalt with her mind.
With a hop step and a single flap of his dark leathery wings the dragon was there behind her. The men retreating with the dead man's body dropped it before they hurried away.
The man Chureal had healed walked up to the cart on the opposite side as Chureal and the dragon. Chureal noticed that under all the dirt and blood, he too was well-dressed. Unlike the other men in the village, his face was cleanly shaved, as well. Like the highborn girl's, his hair was black as soot, and Chureal had the sudden realization that they were either brother and sister, or maybe he was her father. They had the same cheekbones and prominent noses, and there was no mistaking the similar deep green shade of their eyes.
The man said something in the strange language of the villagers, but the girl in the wagon murmured something to him, and he switched to the accented language Chureal could understand.
"Why have you saved us?" he asked, softly, cautiously. "How?"
"Because you were hurt," Chureal answered quickly. His question seemed funny to her, as if he didn't think he deserved saving, but she let it pass.
"Are you from Quavtalia?" Churial asked. "I am. My mother had the same accent as the two of you do."
"Yes," the man said. His expression and stature relaxed visibly, for up until then, he looked as if he might have been ready to flee. "Are you from Ormandin? Or from Pelonia?" he asked.
"Ormandin," Chureal answered, and her cheer instantly evaporated. "The Pelonians killed my parents." She said the last softly. "You are not Pelonian are you?"
The man went to step around the wagon toward her, but a low rumbling growl from Cobalt made him think better of it. He quickly resumed his place opposite Chureal. "I am so sorry to hear about your mother," he said. "We are from Ormandin also. My sister and I were sent here to be away from the war, but it seems that the Pelonians have reached across the Little Sea here to Perdun and found us."
"Is that where we are? Perdun?" Chureal asked. "Because back in Narvoza, where we just came from, it's winter, and Braxton said that we were a long way from where we started."
"Is Braxton your dragon?" the man asked, clearly confused.
"No silly, my dragon’s name is more than your tongue can manage, but he is called Cobalt." She pointed at the dragon, whose stare was unnervingly boring into the man. "Lord Braxton, I call him Braxton, and Cryelos are coming here right now, though it will be awhile before they get here because they are on foot." She took a quick breath. "My name is Chureal. What is yours?"
"Forgive my rudeness, Lady Chureal," the man said in a courtly manner with a slight bow that made Chureal giggle. "My name is Trovin, and my sister is Trava. We are twins, but far too filthy at the moment for you to see that."
Chureal wasn't sure, but from somewhere in her memory, the names sounded oddly familiar. She tried but couldn't place them.
The people of the village looked to be getting angrier and bolder by the moment, and one of them finally spoke. Chureal had no idea what he was saying, nor what Trovin was yelling back at them, but she could tell it wasn't very pleasant, whatever it was. When Trovin looked back at his sister, nervousness, and maybe a little fear, were visible in his expression.
"The people think it's our fault that the village was attacked," Trava said from the cart.
"They want us to leave," her brother added. "They think your presence, and ours, will bring the king’s men back." Trovin looked around again and let out a heavy sigh. He then kindly asked Chureal to step off the cart's wheel. It was rigged for single a horse to pull, but there were no horses left in the village. He went to the front of it, fastened a leather strap over his shoulders, and grabbed the two wooden extensions that would've went on either side of the horse. With no small effort, he began to pull the cart down the path away from Chureal, the dragon, and the angry villagers.
Once it was rolling, it seemed like he could manage it, but the townspeople began to close in on him. Chureal reached back and whacked Cobalt on the scales and the dragon let loose a roar that warned them away. Chureal then climbed up on Cobalt's back and called out for Trovin to follow. The dragon stayed on the ground and strutted out of the village proudly. Once they were clear, Chureal pointed Trovin in the direction Braxton and Cryelos were coming from. Cobalt then leapt into the air and flew back to the village to make sure no one followed.
Braxton was close to pulling his hair out, and Cryelos wasn't much better, when they finally spotted Cobalt speeding toward them. The sun reflecting off the chainmail armor Chureal wore told them she was on his back, and they were both visibly flooded with relief, but not until Cobalt landed and they could see with their own eyes that she was alive and well and in once piece, did either of them stop worrying.
"Here," Braxton said, handing the chest piece and grieves of Chureal's dwarven armor to Cryelos. The elf had just finished his turn carrying the heavy plate, but didn't voice a complaint since Braxton was on his way to Cobalt's side and probably wouldn't have heard him anyway.
"Are you alright?" Braxton asked her.
"Yes, Brax, I'm fine," she said. Then she took in a deep breath and started into her tale. By the time she finished, Braxton was stupefied. The girl hadn't stayed on a single subject long enough for him to grasp anything she told him, but he did understand that she’d healed two people who looked just alike, and they were in a wagon coming their way. He'd also gathered that the townspeople were angry and might not be hospitable, which meant they would have no luck finding food or water or supplies there.
"Twins you say?" Braxton heard Cryelos repeating some of
what he'd heard. "Named Trava and Trovin?"
Apparently, Cryelos had been able to pay better attention to Chureal's rambling than he had because Braxton had missed their names and relation completely.
"Yes, and Trovin is having to pull the cart all by himself." Chureal's voice was full of sympathy. "The men who took the townspeople in the cages also took all of the villagers' horses." She went on, "Trovin says that he has to go free his friends that were taken, and I think that when we get to them, he will ask for our help."
Braxton saw a look of anger flash across Cryelos' yellow elven eyes. "You told him about us, then?"
Chureal took in his expression and tone and averted her eyes as if she knew she'd done something wrong, but then as if some great thought had struck her, she brightened and looked at he and Braxton in turn. "It's all right, though. They are from Ormandin." Her pleading eyes met Braxton's. Hearing the familiar word, he held a hand out toward Cryelos to stay the elf’s objections.
"Ormandin," Braxton said. "Isn't that where you're from?"
"Yes. Yes, it is," Chureal answered, relieved that she was no longer under Cryelos' scrutiny.
A short while later, they heard the wagon's squeaky wheel, and then the filthy worn-down man pulling it came into view. Chureal, no longer on Cobalt's back, introduced everybody and took a moment to check on Trava, who was in the cart sitting up. She formed some apples out of nowhere and passed them around, then to Braxton's surprise, Trovin produced a small block of cheese and some hard bread. He also had a half-full skin of wine.
Trava stayed silent while they ate. It was getting late in the afternoon, for their shadows were growing longer. More than once, Braxton caught her captivating green eyes taking him in. It was strange seeing such beautiful orbs on the filthy girl. She spent just as much time glaring at her brother, but Braxton couldn't figure out why.
She was very beautiful, but Braxton felt no real attraction to her. His heart was as empty as a hulled pecan shell, and probably just as brittle. Her brother had the same eyes, and the same long raven black hair, high cheekbones, and even their noses could have been swapped without notice. They were twins for sure, but where Trovin seemed friendly and likeable, Trava was cold and guarded.
Trovin told them how they had been riding through the area. They'd stopped in the village to look at a stud horses that were for sale. There were four of them in their group, and they'd only begun to haggle with the owner when the king's men came storming in for them.
"It wasn't King Valdier's men," Trava spoke up for the first time. Her voice was as cold as her expression, and Braxton sensed quite a bit of hostility in it. "It was Prince Venom's men, I know it." She almost spat the name.
"Prince Venom?" Cryelos asked, and Braxton noticed his yellow eyes didn't cause them to react as badly as he would have thought.
"Amazing," Trovin said with eyes full of wonder. "I've only heard of elves in stories. I've seen a painting, though, and the artist caught the features of your kind well."
Braxton saw the subtle disappointment his elven friend felt. He knew Cryelos was hoping to find more of his people here.
When Trovin resumed the conversation, he was a little less at ease. "His name is Prince Verdin, but he is known as Prince Venom because he is rumored to be one of the changed."
"A darkon?" asked Braxton.
"That's one of the names they go by," Trovin answered. "They are becoming a nuisance, even in my father's kingdom." As soon as those words left his mouth, Trava growled at him and looked away.
"This is Prince Trovin and Princess Trava," Chureal exclaimed so excitedly to Braxton that he knew she’d just figured it out. "They are the Prince and Princess of Ormandin."
"Is this true?" Braxton asked. He was no longer impressed by titles, for he'd fought with princes against demons and kings, but he was impressed that Trovin had pulled his sister in a horse cart for several hours all by himself. The fact that it was a prince who had done such a thing made it seem all the more impressive.
"It's true," he answered, looking at his sister with a defiant smirk. She was looking back with very nearly the same expression on her face. "The girl healed me and saved your life Trava. I'll not lie to her or her friends."
"You don't have to lie to them, Trovin," she said defensively, "you just don't have to tell them everything. Your loose tongue is the very reason Jory and Sam are in a cage bound for Venom’s head block."
"I assure you, Princess Trava," Braxton said, trying hard to remember his mother's lessons in manners. "Your status means little to us."
Her mouth opened, and then snapped shut, and she looked away. "How rude," she mumbled under her breath.
Seeing he offended her, Braxton started to apologize, but Cryelos cut him off.
"Who are Jory and Sam? And why would Prince Venom's men take them hostage instead of you two?"
Prince Trovin's eyes went to his boots and Princess Trava huffed again. "Sir Jory Almen is a royal knight of Ormandin," the prince said softly. "He has sworn to protect me with his life, and Sammani is my sister's handmaiden." He paused, looking at her.
"Go on, tell them the rest," Trava said, then before her brother could speak, she finished the tale for him. "They pose as my brother and I, when we venture out, to spare us from people like Prince Venom's men. My valiant brother didn't even speak to try and stop them from being taken."
"And when you spoke up, it got a sword ran through your belly," Trovin snapped back at her. His voice shook with emotion. "Then when I went to your side a man nearly slashed my leg off. You would be dead, and I not far behind you, had this young angel not saved us. So, save your distress for those who deserve it."
"I have no need for distress if we can help Sir Jory and Sam escape that feral captain, or whatever he is supposed to be."
Braxton chuckled, but only because he and Davvy used to call Captain Murdle the feral old captain. Her using the same term evoked a rare memory. He had no intention of offending the princess, but it was too late. Her eyes were full of daggers and tears both when she looked at him. "Lord Braxton Bray, you are a rude one."
"I think she likes you," Trovin said, and Trava climbed noisily out of the cart and stalked into the grass away from them.
Chureal gave Braxton a look of severe distaste that caused him to look away in dismay, and Cryelos burst into a high-pitched fit of musical laughter.
"What are you laughing at, Cryelos?" Chureal asked with her arms on her hips.
"He's been pulling her all this time, and she could have been walking."
Chureal shook her head and hurried to catch up with Princess Trava.
"I think we might help you help your friends," Braxton said after Cryelos recovered from his fit of glee. "But it will cost you some answers." He looked at Cryelos, seeking the elf's approval. When Cryelos nodded, Braxton said, "A lot of answers."
Chapter Four
When Chureal and Trava returned from their walk through the high grass, Braxton and Cryelos were questioning Trovin about the location of Ormandin, the land of Quantalia, and its relation to Pelonia and Perdun, where they were now. They had already questioned him on the lay of the land in their immediate area. Trovin happily pointed out the roads, and the locations of towns on Braxton's map, though they had nothing to write with to mark the information permanently. There were several distinct landmarks, though, and the prince made a sour face when the Island of Skorch came up. The prince said that no one ever went there, and those who did were never seen again.
Braxton's map was very old, said the prince, and the coastline had vastly changed due to the continuous rise of the sea. This wasn't a surprise since Braxton and Cryelos's ancestors had been forced from Scarlee many human generations ago.
Chureal spoke quietly to Cobalt for a while, and then the dragon leapt into the sky, flying north toward the village. Cryelos noticed and didn't say anything aloud, but tapped Braxton on the shoulder and indicated as much. Braxton was caught up in Trovin's story about a trade ship from
yet another land called Mydern.
Mydern was far to the northwest of Perdun, where it was said that it sometimes rained fire, and packs of four-legged creatures as big as castles that were stripped gold on black sometimes attacked entire cities there. Trovin had seen one of their giant skins unfurled once. He said the single piece was big enough to carpet his father's whole castle. It was then that Braxton remembered something from when he had found Chureal in Ormandin. The high wizard Jorvan had spoken to him briefly after he'd carried Chureal out of a raging battlefield. The high wizard had asked that he find him if he were ever here again, and his parting words, "Farewell, young wizard," still rang in Braxton's ears as if they had been spoken the day before.
Braxton had never, and still didn't think of himself as a wizard, though he could use the magic of the jewel better and better every day. He didn’t consider himself a wizard because the power came from the jewel, and he figured that a wizard's magic came from within the wizard.
"Do you know High Wizard Jorvan?" Braxton asked Trovin, but it was Trava who answered.
"You know the high wizard?" Her voice was curious and sweet when she asked the question.
"Yes," Braxton answered, stunned by the change in her demeanor. It also took him off guard that Cobalt wasn't among them anymore until he remembered Cryelos pointing at him in the sky a few moments earlier.
In order to keep from being rude again, he ignored his concern for the wyrm and responded. "Chureal and I met him once."
"It seems, Lord Braxton, you lead quite an exciting life." She ruffled Chureal's hair gently. "You and Lady Chureal here."
"Far too exciting, I'm afraid," Braxton answered quickly, and had to fight the overwhelming sadness that came with the thoughts of Nixy and his dead brothers and father.
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