by Suzanna Lynn
Baylin glanced around at Lord Cadman and the rest of the royal family. They were all so perfect in their manner of interaction; as though they were a happy family, enjoying the party before them. He looked back to Ferric. Here’s hoping you remember, old friend. The Prince slid a finger across his forehead, as though he were wiping his brow. He then turned his head to the right and tucked a strand of his long black hair behind his exposed ear. A sign of distress. He only hoped his friend remembered it from so long ago. As boys, it had been an innocent way to relay to one another that one of them had gotten into trouble, or was not allowed to play. I never dreamed I would be using it to signal that I was being held captive in front of a room of people. He stared at Ferric, waiting for any sign that he had been understood. His friend gave the slightest nod and pushed a strand of his own hair behind his ear.
He remembers. Relief washed over Baylin as he watched Ferric filter through the crowd and one by one, subtlety interact with men from Grasmere. With the room as full as it was, a person wouldn’t notice it unless they were looking for it. Now that they know, what do we do? There is no way to relay any type of orders or strategy to Ferric without someone finding out.
Princess Isla interrupted Baylin’s thoughts. “Baylin, I think it best you write to your mother, the Queen. You will tell her you plan to stay here with me to make wedding preparations.”
“She’ll never believe that, you stupid cow,” Baylin spat.
Princess Isla gasped and raised her hand to strike Baylin but her mother, the Queen, reached out a hand and stopped her. “Now, Isla, my dear, you do not want your subjects seeing you act in such a matter. You are the future Queen of Grasmere. You must reflect elegance and poise. Remember, the easiest way to hurt him is to hurt his bed wife.”
“I wonder how long that little bed wife of yours can last without you there to protect her?” Isla smiled at Baylin. “Now you will write your mother and tell her you are staying here.”
“She knows I worry for my father, and I have already sent a bird to inform her of my return,” Baylin said. “If I do not arrive within the next few days she will know something has happened.”
King Gideon glared at Lord Cadman. “Is this true?”
Cadman looked nervous, as though Baylin had caused a hitch in his plan. “It is possible, I suppose. The Queen is close with the Prince. I believe she may suspect. However, if we relay that the Prince is ill, it will be plausible.”
“It can’t be anything too serious,” the King interjected. “We don’t want the Queen sending…”
Cadman and the King spoke across Baylin as though he were not there. The Prince scanned the room and could see the crowd had become considerably thinner of blue tunics. Most of the men from Grasmere were nowhere to be seen. Ferric, I hope you know what you are doing.
“Baylin!” Cadman barked. “Did you hear what I said?”
The Prince turned his head slowly, glaring at his uncle. “What?”
“You will write to your mother and relay that you are ill. We will get the Master of Mirstone to give you a diagnosis, an ailment that is believable but not too serious. You will inform her that you plan to send the men from Grasmere back to guard the Kingdom but will remain here for a week or so, to recover.” Cadman prattled on his orders as though he expected no resistance.
Before the Prince had time to respond, a guard of Grasmere approached the royal table with a bow. “Apologies, Your Graces. I must speak with Lord Cadman.”
Oh no! Is he a plant of Cadman’s? Is he going to warn him about Ferric’s plan? Fear was bubbling in Baylin’s stomach. He made eye contact with the man as Cadman stood to walk around the table and the guard slipped a strand of hair behind his ear. He’s one of Ferric’s.
Baylin braced himself, ready to move if a plan was executed. He did not like being unaware of what was to come, but he knew he could trust his friend.
He watched the guard and Cadman carefully as they spoke, waiting for a sign. The man and Lord Cadman finished their conversation and the guard turned to Baylin and bowed. “My Prince Baylin, are you enjoying the festivities?”
Never allowing his eyes to leave the guard, Baylin replied, “Sadly, I’m not in a celebratory mood.”
The guard raised an eyebrow, as though he were amused by the statement. He placed his hand on the hilt of his sword. “Then perhaps we should return to Grasmere.”
Princess Isla started to interrupt, but the guard had already given the signal Baylin needed. He quickly rose from his seat and rolled over the table as the guard unsheathed his sword.
Both the Princess and Queen screamed out in terror as the King and Cadman rose to their feet, drawing their own swords. The commotion gained the attention of the nearby Mirstone guards, who ran to the aid of their King, and drew their swords on Prince Baylin and his fellow guard.
“What are you going to do, Baylin? You have nowhere to run,” Cadman hissed, pointing his sword at the Prince.
The room erupted with the sound of screams and the deafening clamor of thousands of feet as Grasmere guards flooded the room. Their blue cloaks flowed as they stormed the room, maneuvering through the villagers and Mirstone guards like a river swirling around pebbles in a stream. The soldiers tore through the room, squaring off with King Gideon’s disoriented guards. The men from Grasmere outnumbered the Mirstone guards three to one.
Ferric shoved through the crowd until he was at Prince Baylin’s side. “We are with you, my Prince.”
Princess Isla looked from Ferric to Baylin and back again, anger mixed with terror written all over her face. “No!” She scrambled forward, reaching out for the Prince. Queen Fia wrapped a hand around her daughter’s wrist, pulling her back behind the guards.
The King’s guards were fidgety. The day was supposed to be filled with merriment and celebration. Instead they were preparing to defend their King from the Prince of Grasmere.
“Your Grace, King Gideon!” shouted a guard standing between the King and Baylin. “What is this?”
“He has threatened the crown!” cried King Gideon. “Baylin is a traitor to the Kingdom! Seize him!”
The guards looked at one another, wary and bewildered. No one wanted to be the first man to move on the Prince of Grasmere. He was, after all, the hero of the Kingdom. The day was to be a celebration of his victory, yet now they were commanded to apprehend him.
“This is a lie!” Ferric shouted. “If you move on him you will be struck down where you stand!”
“Peace, please!” called out Baylin. He did not want any innocents to get hurt. “These men are only obeying their liege, they are loyal and devoted and should not be punished for doing so. Men of Mirstone, hear me! Lord Cadman has conspired with Gideon...”
“These are not your men to command,” interjected the King. “I am the King, not you, boy!”
“You’re outnumbered, Gideon,” Baylin said. “Give up this madness and I will petition my father to be merciful.”
“I hold my brother’s ear, not you, boy!” Cadman hissed, still pointing his sword at the Prince’s chest. “You have been marked a traitor. Once word reaches Grasmere, no one will take you in.”
Baylin ignored his uncle’s words, keeping his attention on the King. “King Gideon, I implore you to see reason. It is obvious my uncle has poisoned your mind with his lies and empty promises.” He knew his words were lies. He knew exactly what he was doing by collaborating with Cadman. But if the attack of the troll hordes taught me anything, it is that the King is a coward. If he can see a way to save his skin, he will take it. “Call off your men. Arrest Cadman for his treachery and I will see that King Ashmur is merciful.”
For a brief moment it appeared the King considered Baylin’s offer.
“Father, you promised me the Kingdom!” Isla screamed out in anger. “I am to be the Queen of Grasmere!”
Queen Fia turned on her daughter, slapping her across the face. “Shut your mouth for once in your life!”
“Enough!” boomed King
Gideon. “Let it be known, if anyone is seen standing with the traitor Baylin, you will be marked a conspirator as well.”
“To the Prince!” called out Ferric.
Every man of Grasmere repeated the cry. “To the Prince!”
The guards of Mirstone were overwhelmed. It was obvious they would not be able to defeat Baylin’s men. The anger of both sets of men was beginning to engulf them. Sweat poured from each man’s forehead as he held his sword with a white-knuckled grip.
“Please, men of Mirstone, let us pass!” Baylin called out. “I do not want a war. It would please me that not one drop of blood be shed in the name of this insanity.”
It started with a shove of one Mirstone guard to a Grasmere guard. One simple act, creating a reaction like ripples that form from a pebble being thrown in the still waters of a pond. The air erupted with the sound of steel on steel as men fought with sword and fist. Those commoners too foolish to flee when the commotion first began were screaming and running for their lives.
Several members of the guard grabbed the King, Queen and Princess and rushed them through a nearby door. Cadman followed them closely, lingering only for a moment to sneer at his nephew before scurrying away.
“We must away to Grasmere,” Baylin said as he pushed through the crowds of soldiers with Ferric at his side.
“What of the soldiers?” Ferric asked, walking close at hand in order to defend the Prince if it was needed.
“Let it be known I wish none to be harmed if it can be helped,” he said as they reached a door out of the hall. “These men are only following orders. Our main focus is getting out of this gods forsaken place.”
Chapter Fifteen
Baylin and his men outnumbered the remaining sober guards in Mirstone. Thanks to the evening’s wine and ale, over half were too drunk to be of any use. With the royal family running and hiding with their tails between their legs, their guards quickly scattered and the men were able to escape. However, the threat of retaliation was on their heels as they made their way toward Grasmere.
The Prince and his men rode hard through the night and well into the following day. They reached the western edge of Fagin Forest when they stopped to rest.
Fagin Forest was what separated the Kingdoms of Mirstone and Grasmere. It was a thick, dense wood said to be haunted by the long-dead Elven King, Lord Rydel, who had died a few years after the Battle of Embers. The road through the forest was little more than a makeshift path—so narrow that it could only hold three men side by side on horseback. There were some parts of the path that were even narrower. It made getting an army into Grasmere difficult, but after all, it had been created this way on purpose.
Long ago, during the Battle of Embers, the great Keld King Aron, desperate to save the realm of Wintervale, had approached the Elven King Rydel. Aron begged for the help of the elves, stating that the war wasn’t simply that of the Keld, but that it affected all the races calling Wintervale home. Rydel, being arrogant and not wanting to interfere with the gods’ wishes, extended his well wishes and hopes for the Keld victory over the trolls, but refused to involve his people in a war not of their making.
However, after the battle was over and the smoke billowed from the ash-covered land, the elf King saw the error of his ways. Not only had the Keld and the elves been affected by the maliciousness of war, but the races of men, dwarves and even the fae folk had lost many to the evil that had plagued the lands. Yet only the Keld fought to overthrow it.
Realizing their fault, the elves bridged an alliance with the great Keld Kingdoms. Using strong, ancient enchantments, they fortified all the Kingdoms with unique defenses in exchange for peace and a vow that the Keld would forever defend all who lived within the realm of Wintervale. Fagin Forest had been one of those defenses. The elves used their magic to erect the lush, dense forest as a wall between Mirstone and Grasmere. It provided a great deal of security for the Kingdoms, making it virtually impossible for any invasion to take place. Baylin never dreamed he would be the one trying to bring an army through it.
“Twenty minutes, men, that is all the time we have to spare,” Baylin called out. He wanted to give them the whole day to rest, but they had to return to Grasmere as soon as possible. We will not be safe until we are within the walls of the castle. Even then, I am not sure how safe we will be.
“Back in command already? And just when I was getting used to the power!” Ferric joked as he approached the Prince.
Baylin smiled and embraced Ferric. “You did a marvelous job, my friend, and I am forever in your debt.”
Ferric’s smile waned as he looked at the Prince’s weary face. “What is going on, Baylin? It was as if they were trying to keep you captive.”
“They were,” Baylin said. “They threatened to have Luana killed if I did not stay and marry Isla.”
Confusion shown on Ferric’s face as he furrowed his brow in disbelief. “It’s no secret you’re in love with Luana, but why would they risk their Kingdom to try such a futile move? They had to have known the risk of getting caught.”
“They plan to take Grasmere for their own,” Baylin explained. “Cadman has been in on it with them for what I can assume has been years. He has always felt the throne should be his. My guess is that he convinced the royal family to go along with it as a way of raising themselves in the ranks. Isla would be the High Queen if we were to marry.”
Ferric sat down on the ground next to a fallen log to rest. “How does you marrying the Princess help Cadman get the throne?”
Baylin sat down next to Ferric. “I don’t think he planned on me ruling for very long.”
Ferric looked at the Prince with a confused expression.
“If I were to marry the Princess and then meet an untimely death,” Baylin began, “she could marry Cadman and they would be King and Queen of Grasmere, of the entire realm of Wintervale. They were all in on it together, Ferric. Even King Gideon and Queen Fia.”
“What do we do, Baylin?” Ferric asked. “You know this won’t be the end of it.”
Baylin looked around the large gathering of men who came to his defense when he needed them most. “I don’t know.”
Baylin rose at the sound of a horse galloping up on them from the direction of Mirstone. A rider in Grasmere indigo blue called out, “My Prince Baylin!”
Baylin ran over to the man. “What is it?”
“Mirstone, Your Grace,” he said breathlessly. “They are arming their forces. They mean to move on Grasmere.”
Baylin’s heart began to pound and a prickling wave of heat flowed over him. I’ve brought a war to my front door.
“How long?” Baylin asked, scrubbing his hand along his tense forehead.
“It will be here in two days, at most,” the rider replied.
The Prince kicked at a large clump of dirt that had been brought up by the horses. He was angry, frustrated and lost at what to do. How I wish Father was here. If only he had seen Cadman for what he was. If only I had seen Isla through Luana’s eyes.
A thick fog began to roll in through the trees of the forest. It made the visibility bleak. He looked around at all the men who were staring at him. They sat in the dirt or on the edge of the forest on dead logs. They were hushed in their tones and shot nervous glances at the Prince. They looked to him to make this right.
Ferric placed a firm hand on Baylin’s shoulder. “What are we to do, Baylin?”
“I honestly don’t know, my friend,” Baylin said with a deep sigh. “I fear I have killed us all.”
“Not necessarily,” came a cool, familiar voice from within the dark cover of the forest.
Baylin and his men jumped to attention, drawing their swords.
“Who goes there?” Baylin called out, taking a step closer to the forest edge. “Show yourself.”
The fog, which had been so thick they could not see ten paces in front of their faces, dissipated almost immediately. Gliding like a specter, the elf maiden gracefully walked out from under the cover of
the forest and revealed herself to the tired group of soldiers.
She was no longer cloaked like she had been when she presented herself in Baylin’s tent. She was dressed in a pale lilac gown that shimmered and trailed like molten metal behind her as she walked forward. Her long pale hair trailed down her back, a few glistening strands had been pushed behind her upturned ears. Her pale blue eyes appeared to glow as she surveyed the weary group.
Baylin fell to his knee and bowed. “You honor us.”
Though it appeared his men were not sure what was going on, they followed suit and bowed on one knee.
“Rise, men of Grasmere,” the elf commanded.
Baylin stood first and slowly approached the elf as his men rose to watch in awe. The young Prince found himself at a loss for words as he stared into the ghostly blue eyes of the elf maid. She studied him carefully, surveying him before she spoke. “Much has occurred since our last meeting, son of Ashmur. It would seem the herbs have revealed your path and purpose.”
Baylin nodded. “They have revealed a great deal, and I am in your debt for your assistance. Though what the end will be is a mystery to me.”
“The vision of the elves is both a blessing and a curse, young one,” she replied, reaching out a gentle hand and placing it on his arm. “Though we are gifted the ability of foresight, the ability to translate visions is not always as easy.”
Baylin sighed softly. “I fear the vision came too late. Mirstone has conspired against us. They mean to take Grasmere for themselves. War will be upon us in no time.”
“Do not fear, young Prince, I come bringing help,” the elf maid said with a smile. She turned, holding out a hand, gesturing Baylin to look toward the edge of the forest. “May I present our beloved Lord, King Rydel.”