The Dothan Chronicles: The Complete Trilogy

by Charissa Dufour

  She continued to grumble to herself as she climbed onto Éimhin’s back. She pulled her foot out of the stirrup so that Erin could mount and scooted as far forward in the saddle as she could. With practiced ease, the knight pulled himself up into the saddle, his good arm slipping around her waist to reach the reins. Erin turned Éimhin around so that he could snag the reins to her horse and tie them to his saddle. Once this was all done, Erin turned them back onto their trail.

  Bethany felt her body tense and tried to scoot a little further forward in the saddle. She didn’t feel comfortable sitting so close to Erin, but she couldn’t figure out why. It had been weeks since his touch caused her any sort of panic, as it had when they first set out.

  She forced herself to think about her feelings and the attack rationally. She wouldn’t go to pieces. What was done was done, and there was nothing she could do about it now other than be strong and brave. Bethany realized that until now, she hadn’t thought much about the attack. Sure, she had endured nightmares during the first couple weeks, and Erin’s touch had often pushed her toward a state of panic, but somewhere along the way he had stopped frightening her. So what was the problem now? Was it the memory of Féderic or Erin’s touch that made her feel so uncomfortable?

  Bethany’s mind travelled back to her mother’s teachings. She had briefly touched on the healing techniques used on a rape victim. It was hardly a suitable topic for a virgin princess, but her mother was practical if nothing else. In the brief lesson, her mother had talked more about the mental health of the patient, rather than the physical trauma. Bethany tried to remember the advice her mother had given for helping a victim heal, but then she realized the healing practices probably weren’t designed for someone running for their lives and trekking across the entire length of the peninsula.

  When listening to her mother describe the needs of a rape victim, Bethany had never dreamed that she would be among the ranks of battered women. Bethany considered her body. She had healed physically, despite the necessity of riding day in and day out. She was fine, better even. During their travels, in spite of the lack of regular food, she had grown strong and independent. Before this adventure, she never would have dreamed of staying up two nights in a row, especially for a man she had once hated.

  This brought her mind back to Erin and the feeling of his warm chest against her back. If she was feeling strong and confident in her ability to protect herself and had been with Erin for the last two months, why did his touch suddenly cause her stomach to do little flips until she thought she was going to throw up?

  She thought of the hug they had shared when they were finally reunited. During the hug, Bethany had felt safe and comforted. Why then did she now feel as though her skin was on fire every time he touched her? It didn’t make sense.

  “Everything okay?” Erin asked softly in her ear, startling her out of her disturbing reverie.

  “Yes, fine.”

  “You were breathing a little strangely.”

  “Just thinking,” she said, hoping he would drop it; she couldn’t very well tell him what she had been thinking about.

  “Bad thoughts?”

  Bethany hesitated. “I’m not sure.”

  All of the sudden Erin wrapped his good arm around her waist and dragged her back toward his chest. For a brief second Bethany felt as though her heart and her stomach had switched places.

  “Go to sleep, little princess,” he murmured in her ear, his cheek warm against hers.

  For once, the title didn’t sound like a swear word when he said it. Bethany forced herself to relax against his warm chest, and before she knew it, she was fast asleep.

  Pelor slouched in his tiny cell. It had been a long night, lying in the foul straw and trying to sleep, but he was beginning to hear the sound of movement outside his cell: The morning had finally come. Hopefully with the morning he would receive some breakfast. They had ignored his pleas for dinner, leaving him to “sleep” on an empty stomach.

  “You there,” he called to the guard as he climbed to his feet. “Can I get something to eat and drink?”

  The guard glanced over his shoulder at the small, barred window in the door of the cell before turning away and ignoring the prisoner.

  “You can’t just let me starve in here,” barked Pelor as he kicked the door, regretting it instantly.

  The guard continued his silent treatment.

  Pelor slouched back into the straw with a sigh and a grumble from his empty stomach. How had he gotten here?

  It’s all Bethany’s fault, he grumbled to himself. Had she just come with him peacefully, or better yet, hadn’t gotten lost and kidnapped in the first place, none of this would have happened. Even now, they would have been safe in Dothan, free from all the misery of the last eight months. She wouldn’t have endured all the horrors she claimed had happened to her, and he wouldn’t have suffered the humiliation of being banished from his home.

  That bloody knight didn’t help matters any. Pelor had seen the way Bethany had looked at him. Whether she knew it or not, she had a soft spot for the scarred man. She wasn’t able to love Pelor when he had offered himself to her, but somehow that deformed man had wormed his way into her heart.

  Pelor felt his ego pricked by the idea and squirmed in the straw. Somewhere in his angry musings, he fell asleep.

  He was woken by a bang on his cell door. By the time he had woken enough to climb to his feet, the door had opened and two guards were grabbing him by the arms to drag him out into the dark, narrow hallway. The commander stood in the hallway with two broad-shouldered men.

  “I have received word back from Wolfric,” announced the commander without preamble. “I am to send you back to Tolad with the passage you had purchased. These two men will accompany you.”

  “You really think I can’t escape during the passage?” asked Pelor, exuding more confidence than he felt.

  Though the men had the physique of common thugs, there was a gleam of intelligence in their eyes that concerned Pelor. The two men stepped forward and bound his feet in a pair of shackles. Then they attached a chain between his hands and his feet, further reducing his range of movement. The keys to the shackles were then placed inside a small lockbox. The key to the lockbox went around the neck of one guard, while the other pocketed the tiny box.

  Whatever confidence Pelor felt of escaping them disappeared. The two men smiled at him before nudging him forward.

  “I’ll be back for my horse,” Pelor said, glancing over his shoulder at the commander.

  The fat man laughed as he turned to head in the opposite direction.

  At the slow rate Pelor could manage, it took them nearly two hours to get out of the barracks, into the prisoner wagon, and across town to the docks. His guards dragged him across the plank from the dock to the deck of the ship, where the captain met them.

  He looked at the chains binding Pelor’s arms and legs. “I see things have changed.”

  “I’m Lieutenant Janus. Sir Pelor has been charged with treason for the loss of his prisoners. We will be using the passages he purchased to transport him to Tolad. I believe he had arranged with you a secure place to hold him on board.”

  “Yes, sir. This way.”

  The captain led them down to one of the lowest levels of the ship, where crates and barrels were stored. One side of the large room was draped with rows of thin hammocks, used by the ship’s crew. In the center of the storage room plunged the roots of the mast, and waiting next to the large post sat two stools. Attached to the mast were a number of chains and shackles.

  “It’s not exactly a cell, but I don’t expect he’ll be getting out in a hurry,” said the captain.

  “It will do,” said Janus, the spokesman of the two guards. “Do you have the keys?”

  The captain handed them over. “I’m afraid I only have one hammock arranged.”

  “That will be fine. We will sleep in shifts. Someone will be watching him at all times.”

  The captain
nodded once. “I have things to see to. If you have questions my first mate can answer them. Good day, gentlemen.”

  With that the captain left. The guards pushed Pelor onto the rickety stool and added the extra shackles to his already bound wrists.

  “Not gonna take the others off?” Pelor asked as the new metal pinched his forearms.

  “I don’t see any reason why I should,” said Janus. “Now, we have to spend the next couple days together. It will all go over better if you keep your mouth shut. If you don’t, I’ll be forced to gag you. Do we have an understanding?”

  Pelor glared at his guard and turned his head away without saying anything.

  “Good,” said Janus.

  Just great, thought Pelor as he tried to get comfortable on his little stool.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Lyolf stared at the distant city, his mind turning to places it had no business being.

  “Sir?” prompted the Zemê caravan leader.

  The ex-prince blinked, pulling his mind back to the conversation.

  “I’m sorry,” he said as he opened his pouch.

  He pulled out the money he owed the caravan leader: half at the beginning, half when they reached the northern edge of the Central Wastelands.

  “I believe that is what I owe you,” Lyolf said as he plopped five silver coins into the man’s outstretched hand.

  “Yes, sir. Thank you.” The caravan leader tipped his head to Lyolf before walking away.

  “Lyolf, I don’t feel comfortable with you paying for our passage,” said Cred from a few feet behind Lyolf.

  Lyolf turned to look at him, a smile playing at his lips. The family still assumed a true romance consisted between Lyolf and Athelyna, and they both let them believe it.

  If only it were true, he thought as he closed the distance between himself and the ex-soldier.

  “Trust me, Cred, when I say you have given me something no money can buy. Besides, if I have my way you will all come work on my estate.”

  “You’ve already given us so much. I will take no more handouts from you.”

  “I did say ‘work.’ No more handouts. Now c’mon. Staring at the city won’t change anything,” he added, more to himself than to his friend.

  He mounted his horse and led the little group onto the road heading toward Nava. The city was no more than a mile or two away from the edge of the Central Wastelands. The city sat along the edge of a natural cove used as a port for the prosperous fishing community. Nava was perched on the boarders of the wasteland and the dense greenery of the north, as though someone had drawn a line to divide the two realms. The last time Lyolf had visited Nava, a similar line had run through the city: the poor residing on the desert side and the rich residing on the greener side. Myth described rainfalls that would stop at the line and not continue into the other side of the city. Lyolf never believed the myths he heard.

  The city looked enormous to Lyolf, even though he knew it was smaller than Tolad. The difference was this city was his. He was to take possession of the lord’s estate. Unless he chose to go into the military and leave the estate for his heirs.

  What heirs? he asked himself.

  If Athelyna would stay with him, his choice would be made.

  A short distance from the city’s main gatehouse, a voice from the back of their small group called them to a halt. Lyolf turned in his saddle, suddenly realizing it was Athelyna speaking. He dismounted and joined the small group surrounding her.

  “This is where I leave you,” she said, sounding choked up.

  “You don’t have to,” Lyolf responded, trying to take her hand; she carefully pulled it away.

  “Yes, I do. I need to return to my family.”

  Lyolf sighed. “If you change your mind, you will always have a home with me.”

  She smiled. “Thank you.”

  “Will you not at least come to the estate? Rest for the night. I want you to know where it is, in case you ever need me.”

  “Thank you, Lyolf, but no. I’m sure I can find it, if it is required. I guess this is it.”

  Lyolf nodded. “You know where to find me.”

  He wanted to beg. He was even ready to get down on his knees, but he knew what her response would be. He refused to degrade himself when there was no hope of victory.

  Athelyna caressed his cheek once before hugging Brid and the little boys. Finally, she left the road and began cutting across the country side toward the distant White Cap Mountains. Lyolf watched her for a few minutes, until he heard the sound of feet scuffing against the packed earth of the road.

  He jerked his gaze onto the little family. “Let’s get moving.”

  Lyolf remounted and they continued their journey into the city.

  The small group wound their way through the prosperous city and up to the city’s castle—his new home.

  Somewhere in the last twenty minutes, he made the decision to stay. He wanted to be at the castle on the slim chance Athelyna returned. They finally reached the inner gatehouse, which was closed against the inhabitants of the city, as though they might pose a threat. Lyolf dismounted and stepped up to the portcullis. He looked around, not seeing a guard on duty.

  What is going on? he wondered as he rapped the hilt of his sword against the metal studs in the wooden portcullis.

  Finally, a half-dressed man appeared from the guard station in the gatehouse, quickly drawing up the laces of his trousers. From the doorway of the guard station, Lyolf spied a feminine face peering out at him.

  “Open this gate,” he ordered in a voice he had learned from Wolfric.

  “And who do you think you are?” demanded the guard.

  “Sir Lyolf Eberhand, the new owner of this estate. Now open this gate,” he added, pulling out the document from Wolfric signing the estate over to him.

  Lyolf waved it in front of the man’s face, showing him the royal signet stamp at the bottom.

  The man gawked at it for a second before shouting over his shoulders and rushing to the controls of the portcullis. It took him a while to work them by himself, but eventually the mighty gate began to rise. After a long wait, Lyolf led his horses into the courtyard of his new home, followed closely by Cred and his family.

  By the time the entire group had made it into the courtyard, a man came running from the castle, also half dressed. Lyolf glanced up at the sun, just beginning its downward path for the day.

  Was everyone still in bed?

  Lyolf glanced around the courtyard again, watching as others began to slowly emerge from other out buildings. He had never seen a castle with so little industry in his life, short as it was. He had his work cut out for him. Thankfully, he had Cred and Brid to help.

  He turned to look at his friends, expressing his disgust with one quick glance. Brid looked as though she’d stepped in horse manure and Cred was eyeing the unmanned battlements around the small castle. It wasn’t much, even if it had had a functioning staff.

  “My l-lord,” stammered the man as he reached Lyolf’s side.

  “Not a lord anymore. Just Sir Lyolf. I have renounced my station. King Wolfric has granted me this estate… such as it is,” he added as he scanned the run-down courtyard. “And you are?”

  “I’m Borin, the castle steward.”

  “I see. Rouse the staff, get my things up to the master’s room, and tend the animals. This is Cred, and his wife Brid. They will be taking positions on my staff.”

  “What positions, sir? All needed staff positions are filled.”

  Lyolf gave the disheveled man his full attention for the first time. “Not well filled, I think.” When the man didn’t move, Lyolf looked at him again. “Didn’t I give you an order?”

  The man stared at him for another second before scurrying away, barking orders to the few men and women present. It took another hour of waiting and reminding before any of his commands were completed. At the end of the hour, he stood before his staff, disgusted to the very depth of his stomach. The entire group
was untidy, thin, and half asleep. Borin seemed the only one with any weight left to spare.

  “And who is this?” Lyolf asked when he came upon a woman whose job had not been given.

  “Um… she’s… she’s my woman,” stammered the steward.

  “Your wife?”

  “Uh… well, no.”

  “Then she leaves today.” Lyolf glanced around the small group assembled. “Unless you have a job here, then you don’t sleep here, you don’t eat here. Understood?”

  The group dropped their eyes and scuffled their feet.

  This is gonna take a lot of work, Lyolf thought as the exhaustion of his long journey began to settle onto his shoulders.

  Bethany glanced up from staring at her horse’s mane. Erin had pulled them to a stop and Bethany saw why. She had been blanking out through most of the day; despite sleeping through half of yesterday on Erin’s horse and half the night—when not on watch—she still felt tired. For the first time she took stock of their surroundings. The desert landscape had given way to the lush greenery of the Inlet Delta.

  How does it change in just a few short miles? she wondered as she stared at the lush foliage around them. Most of it looked similar to what grew around the oasis by the Zemê camp. A few feet from where they stopped, the packed earth turned into luscious white sand, and beyond the sand lay a wide ribbon of crystalline-blue sea. In the distance she could see one of the many islands of the Inlet Delta.

  Erin turned back in his saddle to look at her, a grin spreading across his face.

  “We stopping?” she asked, finally tearing her eyes off the ocean.

  “I’m tired. I think we’ve earned a little break,” he said before urging his horse off the packed earth and onto the white sand.

  Bethany followed him, her face breaking out into a large grin. They reached the beach and dismounted. Bethany immediately kicked off her large boots and buried her feet in the warm sand. She glanced around the little beach, noticing a small stream making its way into the sea. It felt like a little slice of paradise.