by Suzanna Lynn
Chapter Eleven
A month had passed in a blur and the time Prince Baylin planned to attack had arrived. Though the sun had yet to kiss the horizon, the early morning birds had begun their song as they hunted the field for insects. Like morning bell ringers, their delicate chirps and songs announced daybreak was upon them.
The camp had worked tirelessly preparing to execute Prince Baylin’s plan. Ditches dug wide around the perimeter of the forest at the base of the mountain ensured the flames would follow the intended path—away from camp and up the mountainside. The smiths sharpened weapons and repaired armor for battle. Baylin felt they could not be more ready. With the new moon a mere two days away and the element of surprise on their side, now was the time to strike.
The restless Baylin did not sleep most of the night, lying awake in wait for dawn and the attack. With the sunrise coming from the east, the fire would be cloaked by the morning rays. Most of the trolls would be burrowed in caves or holes within the mountain. They would be taken unaware.
Baylin stepped out of his tent to survey the camp. The morning was crisp and cool at the foot of the mountain. Glistening dew blanketed the grass beneath his feet, and the chill in the air caused a light fog to form from each breath he took.
His great black horse stomped its foot at the sight of him, anxious to stretch its legs and run. He walked over and patted the steed’s strong, muscular neck. “Soon, boy.”
The sky began to lighten ever so slightly on the eastern horizon, turning a deep purple nearest him. He saddled his mount. Once the sky turned dark shades of pink and red, the large encampment started to buzz with movement of soldiers and horses.
“Prince Baylin,” Ferric called out as he strode up to him wearing full battle armor. The Keld men were always clad in fine silver chainmail. Over that they wore thick boiled leather armor to protect them from the blunt weapons the trolls carried.
“Ferric,” Baylin replied, hoisting his saddle upon his horse’s back. “Are the men assembled?”
“Yes, Your Grace,” Ferric answered. “Your plan is ready for action at your command.”
Baylin paused at the words. My plan. It is my design—succeed or fail. This will either result in bringing me back into Luana’s arms, or my men and I will be slaughtered and my Kingdom will fall, leaving my son fatherless. The weight of the thought hung heavier than any armor.
Baylin attended to the cinch on the saddle when Lord Cadman came sauntering up. “Baylin, are you ready to lead these men to their deaths should this folly plan fail?”
Ferric stepped into Cadman’s space. “You need to learn how to speak to your future King.”
“And you need to learn your place, Ferric,” Cadman said through clenched teeth.
“Enough!” Baylin commanded. “I have had enough of these games you play, Uncle. Your concerns should be for the Kingdom. What happened to the man I used to look up to as a child? Where did that man go?”
Cadman glared at Baylin then walked off without another word.
“Baylin,” Ferric whispered. “Are you ready for this?”
The Prince looked at his friend, the fine lines of his face wrinkled up around his eyes. “Do you fear this will not work?”
“Not at all,” Ferric retorted. “I have every faith in your plan. It’s only that there is no guarantee we will all make it out alive. The trolls outnumber us three to one.”
“My friend, any one of us is worth ten of them.” Baylin put a strong hand on Ferric’s shoulder. “This will succeed, I promise you.”
This will succeed. Baylin repeated the words again in his own head. This will succeed. Perhaps he needed to think it to help him believe it was true. Yes, these men were seasoned, war-hardened warriors. They had grown up training for a day such as today. However, the truth was Baylin did not know how it would end.
Ferric nodded to the Prince and made his way across the camp to finish preparing for the battle.
As Baylin went back to saddling his horse, he noticed a movement by the side of his tent. A cloaked figure used the trees as cover as it crept toward the tent. At first, he thought it could be one of his men, but then he caught a glimpse of silvery flowing hair slide out from under the hood of the cloak. Luana? It can’t be. He watched as the shadow quickly sneaked from the side of the tent and slipped inside.
“Luana?” Baylin called out as he ran to his tent. He threw the flap of his tent open, storming inside the darkened room. “Luana? My love, where are you?”
In the dim morning light, the Prince could barely make out the shape of the pale-haired phantom standing next to his desk.
“Luana,” Baylin spoke to the shadowy visitor. “How have you come?”
With a quick turn and a flash of glistening hair, she revealed glowing sky blue eyes beneath her hooded cloak. “She is not here, Prince of Grasmere.”
“Who are you?” Baylin demanded, taking large steps to close the distance between him and the woman. “Why are you here? What do you know of her?”
“Be calm, Your Grace,” the woman said as she reached her fingertip out to an unlit candle and brought it to flame in an instant. “I am here to help.”
Shock caught in Baylin’s throat. Unable to speak, his eyes flashed from the candle to the woman’s almond-shaped eyes. She removed her hood, revealing a long mane of moonlight white hair that fell around her pale face. Her eyes glowed pale blue as she slid the silken strands of hair behind her pointed ears.
“You’re… you’re of the elf realm,” Baylin whispered as he dropped to his knee in reverence. “You honor me.”
The elf maid stepped forward, placing a delicate finger under his chin to turn his gaze to her. “Please rise, son of Ashmur, I have little time to spare.”
Baylin rose to his feet, sensing the urgency in her softly spoken words. “Why have you come?”
“There is a great evil upon the land. Deep sorcery is being used to give it strength,” she explained. “It will start here, in the lands of Mirstone with the troll hordes, but it will not end here.”
The words caused Baylin’s heart to sink. “Then you mean to say that we will not succeed?”
“Not on your own,” the woman’s expression softened. “This is why I have been sent to help.” She pulled a black velvet bag out from under her cloak and handed it to Baylin. It was not overly large, but the contents felt far heavier than they should. “Take the dust of the flagro flower and sprinkle it on the arrows before you light them afire. That will ensure the fire burns hot up the mountainside as you have planned.”
The Prince made eye contact with the elf maid. “What do you know of my plans?” The idea of anyone other than his men knowing caused him a great amount of unease.
“Do not fret, Your Grace. I assure you, the elf realm is not your enemy,” she said calmly. “We want nothing more than your plans to succeed.” She raised one eyebrow and spoke firmly. “All of your plans.”
The look the woman gave him left Baylin feeling exposed, as though she could see every thought he had ever possessed. Though everyone knew that elves existed, they were a mysterious and magical culture that was rarely ever encountered. However, it was told they had great powers, including those of both foresight and thought projection.
The Prince pulled himself from his thoughts as he recalled something she had said. “You stated it began here but would not end here. What do you mean? What sorcery do you speak of?”
The elf pulled out another small parcel wrapped with lush green leaves. “These herbs can give you the elves’ power of foresight, though only temporarily. Brew a pot of tea and drink the contents, the herbs will show you the truth you need to know.”
“It will show me how to defeat the troll hordes?” Baylin asked, taking the leaf-wrapped clump of herbs.
“I’m sorry, young Prince,” she said with an apologetic look. “It is not up to you or me to dictate what the herbs will show you. Just know that they will show you what will be most important to your plans.”
“My Lord Baylin,” called a voice from outside. The Prince spun to see his steward step through the flap of the tent. He turned back to see the elf maid had vanished.
“Your Grace?” the steward questioned, his brow furrowed in worry. “Are you okay?”
“Yes. Quite.” Baylin took a deep breath, attempting to take in everything he had encountered. “Please finish saddling my horse, if you would. And fetch General Ferric to me at once.”
After the steward left, Baylin hid the small leaf-wrapped parcel the elf had given him in a false bottom drawer in his desk, ensuring no one would discover it.
As he once again studied his maps, Ferric made his way into the tent.
“Baylin,” he greeted. “What is it? Our men are ready.”
“I know, my friend,” the Prince said. “There is something I need you to do for me.” He pulled out the black velvet bag and handed it to Ferric. “Make sure every arrow is sprinkled with this before they dip them in the fire.”
“Your Grace?” A question spread across Ferric’s face.
“Do you trust me?” Baylin asked, placing a hand on the young general’s shoulder.
“With my life,” he replied. No more words were required. Ferric left with the bag in tow.
The Prince paused, considering the elf’s words. It starts here, but it will not end here. So where does it end? When does it end? Frustration took hold as he thought of how the elf maid avoided giving him the straight answers he so desperately wanted. The gods save me from the magic of the elves.
Elves were known to be cryptic and withdrawn because they lived by a code. They vowed to never interfere with the will of the gods. Of course, this code had loopholes. It seemed that they always showed up when they felt the gods were making the wrong choices.
The Prince only hoped the elves knew something he didn’t, and that they would help him dispense of the evil filling the lands.
Baylin left the tent to find his horse had been saddled and prepared for battle. The large black stallion snorted at the sight of the Prince in his armor. He mounted the horse and galloped to the front of the camp. The sunrise was in their favor, shining its golden rays at the mountainside.
The soldiers, both mounted and on foot, were in formation along the forest edge, outside of the firebreak ditches they had constructed.
This will work, Baylin thought. This has to work.
Ferric rode up next to Baylin. “My Prince, we are ready.”
Baylin sat in silence for a moment. Tension caused his skin to tingle. Horses pawed at the earth while the soft clink of armor resonated through the lines.
The Prince nodded. “It is time. Archers, at your mark!”
A line of five hundred men with bows stepped to the front of the line. It was said that Keld men were born with a bow in their hand, never missing their marks. They dipped the tips of their arrows into small fires that had been built along the edge of the fire line.
“Archers, aim,” Baylin commanded. “Loose!”
The arrows cut through the air, fanning the flames as they flew. They imbedded in the large trees on the edge of the forest, the wood hissing as the fire began to take root and burn.
The wind was in their favor; it blew from the east directly toward the mountainside. The burning vegetation sent smoke and flames crawling up the mountain toward the troll hordes.
The blaze grew strong and high as the flames spread, as the elf had promised. Tree limbs snapped as the inferno gathered strength, yet the rest of the mountain seemed strangely still. Baylin tried to survey the land through the thick smoke. I was certain by now there would be some sound, some movement. The entire mountain seemed to be aflame, all but the mountain pass, which lacked the grass or trees to burn. The men braced as they waited for the trolls to travel straight into their lines.
Even with the wind blowing away from the camp, smoke began to cloud their vision as they waited in silence.
“Prince Baylin,” Ferric whispered in an anxious tone, “why do they not…”
“It will work,” Baylin interrupted. “Wait for it.”
The air was silent but for the sound of cracking branches that collapsed as the flames tore through the trees. The birds, who had sang out at morning’s arrival, had all fled, leaving no songs to be heard. The only other sound was the occasional hoof stamp or snort from the thousands of horses lined up in formation. Just when Baylin thought the plan had failed, the air erupted with a sound like thunder rolling through the sky. The ground began to vibrate as the sound grew louder. The hordes are headed straight for us.
“Ready, men!” Baylin yelled out. “Hold your ground, do not let the lines fall. This day we obliterate the vermin for good!”
The men followed with a bellowing chant of agreement.
“Here they come!” Baylin squinted to peer through the heavy smoke and saw movement. “Archers, fire!”
A rain of steel-tipped arrows fell from the sky, taking down large groups of trolls as they attempted to flee the mountain.
Baylin drew his sword and spurred his horse to battle. “Attack!” The men and their mounts followed suit.
The trolls ran like a landslide down the mountain pass, breaking against the swords and shields of the men like waves against rocks on the shore.
The air grew rank with the stench of smoke, blood and death.
Chapter Twelve
It had been over a month since Luana had asked the Queen to smuggle her letter to Baylin. He had sent a reply to her by messenger. His words were simple, but they hit her at her core. I love you always—in this life and in the next. She knew it meant he did not know if he was coming home.
The Queen brought her word whenever she had news. Luana had been told the Prince was alive and unharmed, and the battle had in fact, taken a turn toward ending. However, Baylin remained a world away, so far from her arms.
Baylin’s mother had been very kind and was constantly checking in on Luana. She would also stay and have meals with her from time to time. The biggest service she had provided was to command that Luana was not allowed to be disturbed. This meant that Queen Fia and Princess Isla were strictly forbidden to see her and, for this, Luana could not thank Queen Valasca enough.
Luana had been with child for over six months, according to Master Keon and a midwife who had been brought in by Queen Valasca. The night she first felt the quickening of a strong kick brought tears to her eyes. She thought of how pleased Baylin would be and how sad it made her knowing he had missed it.
It was evening and the villages of Grasmere were hard to see from the balcony of Luana’s chamber. She could make out the tiny flickers of light coming from the windows of the homes, but could not see the homes themselves. The moon was a tiny sliver in the sky, the new moon had passed and it had once again begun to wax in the sky.
The days were getting warmer as summer took hold, and Luana enjoyed spending her evenings under the night sky in the cool evening air while basking in the light of the moon and stars.
Luana’s handmaid, Meg, walked out onto the balcony. “Milady, would you like your hair brushed now?”
Luana smiled and nodded. “Yes, that would be nice.” She followed Meg in and sat down in front of her mirror as the maid began brushing her hair.
Luana looked at the girl’s reflection in the mirror. “Do you have any news to entertain me with this evening?” She enjoyed Meg, who was constantly chattering about goings on in the castle. It was one of the only forms of entertainment Luana hadn’t gotten tired of yet.
The young maid smiled. “Oh yes, something that will please you, I believe. Princess Isla and Queen Fia are returning to Mirstone!”
“What? Why?” Luana asked, stunned.
“Well, according to their maid Gretchen, and mind you she is not privy to all the details, but it would seem that His Grace, Prince Baylin won a great victory! He and his men have killed nearly all the troll horde. She said something about setting the mountain on fire, though I don’t know anything about that.
But they heard he has made the castle and villages safe again, so the Princess insisted she return at once to look after her people.”
Look after Baylin more likely. Luana felt the burn of bile at the back of her throat. She wants to get to Baylin before he is on his way back home.
The maid looked at her worried. “Did I say something wrong, milady?”
Luana relaxed the tense features on her face, attempting to soften her expression. “No, my dear, you’ve done nothing wrong. I worry for the Prince.”
“We all do, milady,” Meg said, continuing to brush Luana’s hair. “You should be so proud. Everyone in the Kingdom loves him. He will be a great King one day.”
That, Luana could agree with wholeheartedly. “Yes. Yes, he most certainly will.”
“And once he’s back, you and he can…” Meg continued to prattle on.
A knock came at the door causing both women to startle. Queen Valasca had visited Luana earlier that day, so it most certainly couldn’t be her. Unless there is news of Baylin. What if he’s been hurt? What if… She couldn’t bring herself to think of the horrible things that could happen to her love while on the battlefield.
Meg crossed the room as Luana struggled to stand. She placed a hand on her round belly as she felt a hard kick. You are a strong one, my son.
The maid opened the door to reveal Princess Isla standing in the doorway.
Meg looked back at Luana nervously then back again at the Princess. “I’m sorry, Your Grace, Queen Valasca has commanded that the young miss not be disturbed.”
Isla glowered at the young girl and raised her hand as if to backhand her. The maid cowered, shrinking away from her.
Luana, as quickly as her body would allow, made her way to Meg’s side. She took her in her arms. “It is fine, dearest. Would you be so kind as to draw me a bath?”
Meg nodded and ran into the private bath.
Isla laughed. “Associating with the rabble? Well, I suppose it makes you feel more at home. After all, they are your people.”