The Endora Trilogy (The Complete Series)

by Thomas J. Prestopnik

  “Which one is Amin?” Molly asked.

  Darius pointed a finger. “See the table next to that second stone pillar?”

  Molly looked over the sea of faces and nodded. “I see it.”

  “Amin is seated at the head of that table on the right.”

  “Okay, got him,” she said, studying the lanky young man with a serious expression etched upon his face. He was tall with dark hair, seemingly lost in thought as his companions chattered endlessly. “He’s only a year or two older than my brother Chris,” she said.

  “He’s an outstanding soldier for his age,” Darius replied as he closed the door, “and plays a crucial part in our plan. We must speak with him. Several of the men sitting out there are spies hired by Belthasar, planted among the troops to keep an eye on those loyal to Prince Jeremiah. You are the only one among us, Molly, who can approach Amin without raising suspicion. We’re counting on you.”

  “I’ll do my best, sir.”

  “I know you will.”

  Then Molly, Rosalind, Darius and Mr. Tupper gathered by the stone oven in silence, waiting anxiously for the biscuits to bake. They watched as the dough slowly rose above the crackling wood fire, turning light brown and smelling so delicious. Molly recalled many chilly autumn evenings walking into the house after playing outdoors, her cheeks as cool as winter, and inhaling the comforting scent of freshly baked bread or ginger cookies her mother had just set on the counter. The gentle memory washed over Molly and carried her mind back home until Rosalind reached over and slowly pulled the baking tray out of the oven. Now she stood back in the castle kitchen as the din of voices again percolated in the background. She took a deep breath, awaiting her orders.

  Molly walked into the dining hall as if stepping onto stage in front of an expectant audience awaiting a grand performance. But nobody paid any attention to the young girl in a white kitchen uniform and continued to talk and laugh. Molly exhaled through pursed lips, relieved she had remained unnoticed. She carefully waded into the sea of soldiers, carrying a wooden bowl of steaming rolls, eyeing a particular one dotted with plump raisins just underneath the surface.

  Molly ignored the scattered bits of conversation and looked straight ahead at the second stone pillar and the table next to it. Amin sat at one end of the table on the right, occasionally speaking a word to a fellow soldier next to him who was about the same age. Molly wondered if he was Amin’s friend or one of the new soldiers that Belthasar had planted among the troops. Perhaps Amin was only pretending to be sociable. Maybe other spies were secretly watching Molly, suspecting she was up to something. What if one of them could read her thoughts and discovered their plan before she had even reached Amin’s table?

  Molly bit her tongue and scolded herself for letting her imagination run wild. She knew she was dressed exactly like every other server in the dining hall and nobody was paying her a whit of attention. She shook her head slightly and tried to calm down as she inched closer to the table.

  Then a hand quickly reached into the bowl of biscuits and grabbed one as Molly passed by a trio of soldiers hurrying out of the chamber.

  “Thanks, little girl!” a young man shouted, still hungry even though he had just finished his lunch.

  Molly gasped, unable to speak as the blur of faces sped by. She turned and glanced at the backs of the departing soldiers. Should she chase after them? Should she call to them? Her heart raced until it hurt before she had the sense to glance into the bowl. The biscuit with the raisins and the secret note still sat there, safely tucked underneath another. Molly gulped and felt her legs turn to jelly, but she continued on to Amin’s table, feeling as if it were a mile away.

  “I think I’d rather take a math test,” she muttered to herself. “On a Saturday!”

  But after a half dozen more steps, Molly reached the table. She walked along one side behind a line of seated soldiers, carefully placing a roll upon each of their plates whether they needed one or not. As she approached Amin on the right, Molly fingered the biscuit covering the one with raisins. She casually eyed Amin as he spoke to a friend.

  “Two more to go,” Molly thought as her hand began to shake.

  She grabbed a plain biscuit to place on the friend’s plate, the entire time staring at the one in the bowl containing the secret message. But as Molly extended her arm to set the biscuit on the table, someone shouted from across the room.

  “You’ll have to finish your meals later on, men!” a gruff voice echoed through the dining hall. “Everyone must gather outside and take their places for the ceremony this instant. The coronation has been moved up. Let’s hurry!”

  “Just our luck!” one of the soldiers muttered, lifting his bowl and gulping down some hot beef soup. “I knew I should have gotten here earlier.”

  “It’s that new chief guard,” another whispered, getting out of his seat. “Since he was placed in charge this morning, everything is Now! Now! Now!”

  “Wonder what happened to Darius?” someone else questioned, brushing by Molly and grabbing a roll from her bowl.

  “There’s already one on your plate!” Molly piped up, though her protest went unheeded in the buzz of voices.

  “I heard he’s on a secret assignment until the coronation is over,” the first soldier replied, nearly knocking down Molly as he swung his feet over the bench and jumped up. He also grabbed a couple of rolls out of her bowl and stuffed them under his shirt for later. “Thanks!” he said, patting her on the head as he left.

  “Hey!”

  When the new chief guard repeated his order for the soldiers to make haste, the men suddenly moved like a herd of stampeding cattle. They hustled out of the dining hall, several jostling Molly as they passed by. A few more men swiped extra rolls from the bowl, gently bumping her back and forth in half circles as they made for the exits. Molly’s head swam as she tried to locate Amin in the rush of faces, but he was nowhere to be found. But it didn’t matter at that point because when Molly looked at the three remaining biscuits in her bowl, none of them had raisins on top. The one with the secret message inside was gone. She could only imagine the impending disaster if one of Belthasar’s men should find it.

  Molly looked helplessly across the room at the kitchen door. It stood open just a crack and she knew that Princess Rosalind, Mr. Tupper or Darius had been watching her progress. She shrugged sadly, having no idea what to do next.

  “That would be madness, Princess Rosalind! Utter madness!” exclaimed Mr. Tupper a short while later as they stood near a large fireplace in the empty dining hall. Some of the kitchen staff drifted about, clearing the tables.

  “I must agree,” Darius said. “It’s much too dangerous. Belthasar is quite unpredictable. I don’t even want to think how he might react if you confronted him moments before he was to be crowned King.”

  “We have to do something!” Rosalind insisted, her voice strained by worry and doubt. “Our only plan has failed, so what else can we do? Time is running out.”

  Mr. Tupper and Darius stared gravely at each other, fearing the worst.

  “Princess Rosalind is right,” Molly said, breaking the heavy silence. “We only have minutes to act. We only have one more chance. Besides, we’ve faced nearly everything Belthasar can throw at us. How much more dangerous can it get?”

  “Plenty,” Mr. Tupper whispered with dread. “His wrath, I fear, could far exceed Malaban’s. I would hate to experience the full brunt of it.”

  “If we do nothing,” Molly said, “then you definitely will face his wrath, maybe for the rest of your life. I’m not afraid of him.”

  “But I am,” Rosalind said. “So you, Molly, will stay with Mr. Tupper and Darius and blend in with the crowd while I confront Belthasar alone.”

  “But Rosalind!” complained Molly before Mr. Tupper and Darius could object.

  “No arguments, Molly,” she said in a stern yet motherly tone. “No arguments from any of you. Christopher saved us from the storage room, and Molly freed us from the
tower. Now it’s time to put one of my plans into action. To the coronation!” she cried, leading them across the dining hall, still dressed in their white kitchen uniforms.

  “Uh, just a thought, but perhaps we might blend in better without these ridiculous outfits on?” Mr. Tupper gently suggested.

  Rosalind nodded in agreement, promptly flinging off her cloth bonnet and tossing it on one of the tables as she marched on.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  The Coronation

  Over two thousand people from the countryside and nearby villages showed up to witness the crowning of a new King, many dressed in their finest attire. A sea of springtime colors moved like a gentle wave under the cloudy sky, and conversations filled with hope and grand expectations peppered the air.

  A raised wooden platform with a low railing had been built on a grassy field just outside the castle. Three wide steps led to the top. In the center stood an ornately carved oak chair fitted with a velvet cushion where the King would sit after receiving the revered tokens of his office–the silver crown and sword of his father, each encrusted with a blue sapphire and two green emeralds. Four of the Solárin flags fluttered in a gentle breeze, each hanging from a wooden pole planted at every corner of the platform. A trail of spring leaves and wildflowers had been created, extending from the drawbridge to the platform steps. People eagerly waited for Prince Jeremiah to walk along the path during the ceremony, leaving the castle as a prince and returning to it later as their King. Everyone crowded along both sides of the path right up to the platform, nudging one another for a better viewing spot.

  And despite the gloomy day, many of the faces closest to the platform glowed with a warm and golden light. For off to the left side a short distance away blazed an enormous ceremonial fire. Dozens and dozens of pine, oak and beech logs had been stacked in a huge pyramid and ignited. Several soldiers in dress uniform circled the fire with their backs to the flames. A few others took positions around the platform and along the path from the drawbridge. The blast of heat from the crackling fire rose to the sky like a shimmering glassy mist. Some of the older people in the audience didn’t recall such a fire at King Alexander’s coronation many years ago and wondered why it had been built.

  Then somewhere high atop the castle a single trumpet sounded as clear and crisp as an eagle’s cry. Ten trumpets responded from within the castle courtyard as the main doors opened and the drawbridge descended. The music grew louder as the crowd erupted in cheers and hollers, anticipating what was about to happen. Three soldiers, each bearing the Solárin flag, slowly marched across the drawbridge in perfect step and walked along the path of leaves and wildflowers toward the platform. Following them were two boys, each with a sky blue cape draped over their shoulders, one dutifully carrying King Alexander’s crown and the other his sword. Next in line were many of the King’s advisors, and behind them was a larger contingent of soldiers walking as straight as arrows and stone faced, their eyes focused directly ahead.

  And trailing at the very end, wearing a dark blue silk shirt adorned with silver buttons, a pair of slate gray trousers, polished black boots and a matching cape marched Prince Jeremiah himself, smiling and waving to an adoring crowd, his face glowing like the sun, his eyes as dead as the night. He confidently walked the long and winding path, not really noticing the smiles of joy on the faces of the people greeting him or hearing their words of praise and good wishes. As the prince inched closer to the platform, Belthasar churned inside him like a raging ocean, a treacherous thunderstorm and a violent wind all rolled into one. Belthasar thought only of the King’s silver crown resting upon his head, the gleaming sword held tightly in his grasp and all the wonderful things he could do for himself with his newfound power. It would be a glorious life for him at last!

  The royal procession eventually reached the platform and the flag bearers took their assigned places along the back railing. The two boys carrying the sword and the crown stood next to the chair, one on either side. Jeremiah’s assembly of advisors divided into two groups and stood on both ends of the platform while the contingent of soldiers stayed on the ground and amassed around the sides and back. Finally, with everyone in place, Jeremiah walked up the three steps as the crowd watched in utter silence. He stood facing the ornate wooden chair for a moment and then turned around and looked over the huge crowd awaiting his triumphant rise to power. All the people applauded. The sky blue flags of Solárin rippled in a sudden breeze. The coronation was finally at hand.

  Several minutes earlier, Molly shadowed Princess Rosalind as they weaved their way through the crowd on the right side of the pathway. Darius and Mr. Tupper followed closely behind, dodging one enthusiastic spectator after another. The four wore hooded cloaks they had rounded up in the castle before sneaking outside. Though it seemed unlikely that one of Belthasar’s spies would spot them in such a mob of people, they didn’t want to take any chances. When Rosalind finally caught a glimpse of the platform up ahead, she stopped and huddled with the others to discuss strategy.

  “This is where we must part ways,” she whispered under the din of voices. “I will proceed through the crowd and get as close as I can, then I’ll break out onto the path, rush up the stairs and confront Belthasar.”

  “I beg you to reconsider,” Mr. Tupper pleaded once more. “Or at least let Darius accompany you for protection.”

  “Or me!” Molly said.

  With a hood draped over her head, Rosalind scanned the crowd for a moment, astonished at the sea of people who showed up to support the man she so dearly loved. A gentle breeze brushed back a tear in the corner of her eye.

  “No,” she firmly replied. “This is something I must do alone. If I am not able to reach through to Jeremiah, then I doubt anybody can.” She held Darius by the shoulders and looked into his eyes. “Though we have little time, you must still try to locate Amin. Take Mr. Tupper and Molly with you. If I cannot persuade Belthasar to surrender… Well, you know the alternative.”

  “I’ll do everything I can,” replied Darius with a heavy heart.

  “Thank you,” she said, smiling gratefully. She instructed Mr. Tupper to keep a close eye on Molly. “I know she will be safe with you.”

  “Not to worry,” he said.

  “This isn’t fair,” muttered Molly. “What am I supposed to do? Be led around like a dog on a leash?”

  “You have a pair of eyes, Molly. Use them to help Mr. Tupper and Darius locate Amin. There’s still a chance no matter how slim.” She laid her hands gently upon Molly’s head and smiled. “Now I must be off. May we all meet again under happier circumstances.”

  Without another word, Princess Rosalind slipped away through the crowd just as the first trumpet sounded from atop the castle. As the enthusiastic onlookers turned to face the drawbridge, Darius indicated for Molly and Mr. Tupper to follow him to the back section of the crowd. If they could break through to where it was less congested, maybe they could circle around toward the platform and have a better chance to get close to some of the soldiers. Maybe Amin might be among them or one who knew of his whereabouts.

  As Darius waded through a sea of jostling elbows and shifting shoulders, Mr. Tupper followed as best he could, occasionally glancing back to see if Molly was keeping up. Then Darius pointed off to his left.

  “The crowd is thinning out up ahead. Hurry this way!”

  “Right behind you,” Mr. Tupper replied, repeatedly uttering excuse me to several people as he abruptly brushed by. “Are you still with us, Molly?” he added without looking back.

  “I’m here…” she sighed, all the while wondering how Rosalind was faring. She felt hurt about being cast aside like an unwanted toy, yet felt even more awful knowing that Rosalind was walking straight into danger and facing it alone. It wasn’t right. They escaped from the tower together and rescued Mr. Tupper and Darius from prison. They were a team after all. “And teammates don’t let each other down!” thought Molly as a determined smile spread across her face.

>   So with a nod of her head and a quick glance at Mr. Tupper’s back, Molly shifted direction and plowed back into the crowd to find Princess Rosalind, believing it was the honorable thing to do.

  “Good that you’re keeping up, Molly,” Mr. Tupper said, slightly out of breath as he tried to keep pace with Darius. “We’ll be all right shortly. You’ll see,” he added, craning his neck back.

  But Molly was gone.

  Mr. Tupper stopped and looked this way and that, quickly studying each person in the crowd around him. “Oh dear!” he whispered, terrified she had gotten lost or that something worse had happened. “Molly?”

  But Mr. Tupper didn’t have time to listen for a response as a hand grasped his shoulder from behind. He froze.

  “I’ve been looking all over for you,” a voice whispered into his ear.

  Molly felt like she was swimming upstream in a raging river as she attempted to worm her way through the crowd as Jeremiah proceeded to the platform. The weight of her cloak also slowed her down, and because it was two sizes too big, people constantly stepped on the hem which dragged along the ground. She finally slipped it off and left it in the hands of a surprised passerby, not worrying anymore if somebody might spot her. It was too late in the game to care about that she decided, happy again to be moving freely about in her bright yellow blouse, striped beige skirt and sneakers. Now if only she could find Rosalind before it was too late.

  But in the next instant, somebody found her.

  A man in a brown cloak spotted Molly and she gasped when he quickly pulled her aside and knelt down on one knee. “Where to in such a hurry?” he whispered, removing his hood, revealing a pair of ocean blue eyes and a lengthy gray beard no longer hidden in the folds.