by Rachel James
“She hardly knows herself, but I will escort her, wherever she goes until she reaches safety.”
The chieftain sighed. “I need to see where your loyalty lies, Cabal. I will not allow danger into this camp.”
“I never intended for harm to come to my own people.”
“Then why leave us?”
Cabal jerked his head. “I never ‘left’ you, I chose not to take sides. I am a Rivalyn patriot and serve the kingdom in its entirety.”
Turi waved his hand to motion Cabal’s exit. They promptly took him back to his cage.
Niall grimaced as Cabal was pulled higher into the tree. He had two options, the violent approach, or the diplomatic one. He glanced at the chieftain—his demeanour was wavering. So be it.
He crept out of his hiding place and toward the leader’s hut. No one was about, and he entered with ease. He sat in a chair behind the door and waited.
A few minutes later, the chief returned and visibly jumped at the sound of Niall’s voice.
“Don’t move,” said Niall, calmly.
The floorboard creaked as the chieftain halted. He angled his face round to Niall’s. “Who are you?”
“A simple, concerned Wealdman. My friends are locked up. I ask that you let them go and let us be on our way.”
“And why should I do that?”
“Because Shieldoks infiltrated the kingdom, and it won’t be long before they reach the forest. No one is safe, including you.”
“What has that to do with my prisoners?”
“You know full well that she is a princess.”
The chieftain turned fully round. “Naught for surety.”
“Nonsense. You have her sword, it belonged to Aloedia, as you are aware, for your belt buckle also came from the former queen. You must, therefore, be a guardian.
“Who are you to hold so much knowledge?”
“Alys’s bodyguard.”
The man shook his head. “You are more than that.” He screwed his eyes. “You may hold a vested interest in looking for the sword, yet I can only let the true ruler of Rivalyn pass.”
“My concern lies only for Alys claiming what is rightfully hers. The longer you delay us passage, the higher the risk for yourself.”
“I must be sure she speaks the truth before...”
“She does.”
“The word of a soldier is naught enough.”
“But what of the word of a king?”
Turi took a step toward him. “I ask you again. What is your name?”
Niall studied the chieftain’s features. Concealing his identity no longer served his purpose. “Niall, son of Cedric, rightful heir to the Elmetian throne, and King of Angularem.”
The chief swallowed. “You, are the prince of Elmetia?”
Niall nodded and removed the signet ring, bearing the Elmetian crest, from around his neck. He passed it to the chief who examined it in the candlelight.
“What is your reason for being here? Why are you posing as a soldier?”
Niall shook his head. “I have my reasons, but my aim, for this moment, is to see Alys reclaim her crown. She tells you the truth.”
The chief returned the ring. “She does indeed, but I had to know you were honest also, or I could let none of you pass.”
He stammered. “You were aware I was here?”
“Aye, all along. My men followed you from the river. We could have sped this whole thing up if you revealed yourself to begin with. Hiding only makes you look guilty.”
Niall rubbed his eyes as he tried to make sense of what had just happened. “I exposed my identity without need.”
“Nonsense, you have confirmed your loyalty to Lady Alys. And now I can reveal what I know to you.” He moved to the door and stuck his head out. A short time later, Alys was brought into the hut. She was no longer bound.
At the sight of him, Alys flung her arms around his neck. “Thank the good Lord,” she exclaimed.
The chieftain motioned for them to sit and then addressed Alys. “My name is Turi. I am the guardian of the forest. Your mother prepares you to be ready to assume your duty, daughter of Aloedia. The responsibility of being able to harness such power requires all that the Almighty must teach you. Before you can wear the breastplate of righteousness, you must first put on the belt of truth, for, without truth, you’ll wear armour that is your own attempt at being righteous, without God’s help.
“Follow the Scriptures to the letter, and when you do find the Sacred Sword of Rivalyn, you will be worthy to wield it.” He removed his belt and placed it on the table. “Queen Aloedia entrusted this into my care, and I have, these twenty years passed, been its guardian. This will lead you to the next part of your journey.”
Alys drew her cloak closer into herself. “You don’t even know me.”
“You told the truth, even when it was in your best interest to deceive. You also have possession of your mother’s short sword. I know the rightful heir when I see her.” The chief stood and handed the belt to Alys. “This belongs to you, and I surrender it with relief that I have performed my duty and defended the crown.”
“Thank you,” she said and accepted it. With trembling hands, she studied the inscription. “’Tis not clear. This symbol refers to sin, and this one here is righteousness.” Alys passed the buckle to Niall. “Isn’t there a Scripture for that? Something about righteousness purchased for us at the cross?”
Niall tilted his head. “Aye, ‘For our sake he made him to be sin who knew no sin, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God.’ So, through Jesus’s death on the cross, he took on our sin, so that we could be made righteous.” He formed a steeple with his fingers. “The cross has to be the next landmark.”
The excitement in Alys’s voice grew. “There is a place a little north from here, where two rivers collide and are marked by stones in the shape of a cross. Do you think we may find the breastplate there?”
Niall nodded, “Or if not, a clue to its whereabouts.”
The chieftain rose to leave. “You are welcome to rest here tonight. Please, join your friend for some nourishment.”
Niall helped Alys down the ladder and returned to the clearing. He noticed Cabal now ate a bowl of broth near the fire, a fur wrapped around himself.
How long had it been since they’d eaten? He grabbed two bowls and scooped out some stew from the cauldron.
“Thank you,” said Alys quietly, without looking up at him, as he passed her a bowl.
They ate in silence, each in their own thoughts, and one by one, folk fell asleep. Niall fought the tiredness for a while, for, despite the night’s turn of events, they were still in a strange land. He hoped the morrow would prove a success, but somehow, he knew better. Their journey had only just begun.
Chapter Eight
The fire crackled as Alys rested her head on her hands, under the stars. Every noise, from the rustling wind in the trees to the owl taking flight, evaded her slumber. Most of the Wealdfolk had returned to their tree huts, although a few remained. A kind family offered her a bed, but she politely refused them. This was far more adventurous.
Cabal slept a few feet away, and Niall faced the other direction, his head close to her own. She turned to see if he was awake.
“I’m here,” he whispered, as if sensing her thoughts.
She stared up at the stars. “Niall?”
“Aye.”
“I’ve been thinking about my mother. My real mother, that is. Why would she have given her belt to a Wealdman?”
“She must have trusted him. It is not the obvious—with such animosity between Wealdfolk and Rivalians, no one would suspect her to send it here.”
“Aye, but, even that makes little sense. They do not seem a hostile people.”
“Other than tying you up, dangling you from a tree and not feeding you?”
He had a point. She tilted her head slightly so she could see him. His hair was unruly, it made her want to reach out and touch it. “What is it li
ke where you come from.”
“I was born in Elmetia. But, when I was sixteen, the country was invaded and claimed by King Eadward. My father was killed, my sister taken as a slave, and I fled to an island off the east coast.”
“What is that place called?”
“Angularem. Eventually, my sister found me.”
“Do you miss your Elmetia?”
“Sometimes. It’s more like a dream than a memory now. Besides, I did not have very fond memories there. My mother died when I was young, and then seeing my father die...”
“I’m so sorry.” She turned around, resting her chin on her hands. She stared at him, wondering if he was happy in her kingdom. “Do you wish to return to Angularem?”
His face remained passive, and he exhaled deeply, his chest visibly rising and falling. “That, I know not. I stay because I’m trying to figure out what my purpose is.”
Alys drew the warm fur closer to her body and hugged its excess. She had an overwhelming sense that she might lose him, and that saddened her beyond belief. She depended upon and trusted him. The thought of claiming her crown and not having him close by her side seemed almost unfathomable.
“Get some sleep, Alys.”
She watched him until his eyes closed and breathing slowed. Aye, rest she must, for their journey would undoubtedly be an arduous one.
Something touched his face.
Niall sat up. The fire in the centre had dwindled to a few remaining embers, and all was still beside it. Alys lay asleep next to him, and the moon lit-up her peaceful countenance. He glanced across to Cabal’s sleeping mat, but he was gone. He grabbed his sword and rose quietly. Scanning the tree line, he noticed movement. A man’s silhouette shifted, and the sound of a twig breaking from behind caused him to turn. He wielded his weapon.
“Slow down, man.”
Niall drew out a breath in relief. “Goodness Cabal, why are you hiding in the shadows?”
“We’re surrounded.”
He glanced around. “By whom?”
“At first, I thought it the Wealdfolk, for they often hide amongst the trees. But now I’m not so certain.”
The sound of pans falling over and Alys’s shouting caused his heart to beat loudly. He ran back to camp just as Shieldoks came out of nowhere. Alys used a piece of firewood to ward them off, she kicked a warrior heavily in the chest, and tripped another up with the side sweep of her legs. One attacked her from behind, and she locked his head with her arm and tossed him over her shoulder. She yelped as the man caught her foot and she landed awkwardly. She clutched her side and cried out.
Niall sprinted faster and kicked the Shieldok away from Alys. With Cabal in tow, they formed an inner circle.
“There are too many of them,” shouted Cabal, “we need an escape route.”
Together they edged backward, just as the Wealdfolk unleashed their arrows, giving them a slim chance to retreat. The chieftain motioned to them. “Head through the forest, my man will escort you out safely.”
Niall glanced back at the Shieldoks.
“Do not worry, we’ll distract them.” The old man grinned. “We’re well practised in defending our home from outsiders, now go!”
Niall grabbed Alys and Cabal and followed the Wealdman given to them as their guide.
Alys lay sprawled out on the grass by the river, exhausted. They had travelled on foot all night. She glanced up at Cabal and Niall, who didn’t look any different for their lack of sleep. She stared at her reflection in the water. She had puffy eyes, a graze to her left cheek, and her hair...hopeless. If only she had Ariana with her, not only could she sort out her appearance, but have a friend to confide in.
Here they were, where the two rivers collided, and just as she remembered, a large stone cross marked the junction. The three of them sat and stared.
“What are we looking for exactly?” asked Cabal.
“Some kind of reference to a breastplate,” said Niall. “But… all we have here is a symbol of Calvary.” He pointed at the engraving of three crosses on a hill, with a fish symbol beneath it.
Alys frowned at the inscription along the bottom. It made little sense. “And when the sixth hour was come, there was darkness over the whole land until the ninth hour.” She folded her arms, a pang of disappointment claiming her—not sure what she expected, but certainly something more. This gave no clue as to where they might go next, nor sign of another guardian waiting to tell her something.
Cabal scratched his head. “Hopeless. We’ve been here an age. There’s naught around for miles, and clearly naught here.”
Alys chewed her lip. If they had this wrong, she had no idea where to go from here.
“Besides,” continued Cabal. “The breastplate of righteousness? What’s that to do with the cross?”
Niall punched Cabal’s arm. “Christ died on the cross to save us, right?”
“Aye.”
“The breastplate, covering the heart and lungs, acts as a shield to the parts of the body that, if fatally wounded, could lead to instant death. The breastplate saves our lives in battle. Living righteously delivers us spiritually.”
Alys turned on her side and rested her head on her hands. “Turi said this journey would be a series of tests. It would be far too easy if we were to find the breastplate dangling from the cross. We have not figured out something important.”
Niall nodded. “You’re right. So how do we live righteously?”
She jutted out her bottom lip in thought. “Follow the commandments?”
Niall’s eyes narrowed in concentration. “So…obedience to the Almighty. Making wise choices. Resisting temptation...”
She pondered his words. “Praying and reading the word of God...” Alys sighed and wished she had access to a Bible this very moment.
Father help us, please. She thought about those characters in the Scriptures who were mentioned particularly for their righteousness. Abraham was commended for his righteous lifestyle. Wasn’t Abraham’s faith strengthened by action?
Here she was at the foot of the cross. What action could she possibly do?
She stared at the fish symbol, and her stomach rumbled noisily. “Let’s eat,” she said to the men. Food always cheered her up.
Niall rummaged through his sack. “I have only some bread and a little cheese, and this is to last us until we can find the next village.”
She laughed. “We’re by a river, Niall.” Where did the man think fish came from? She entered the stream toward the centre, at its shallowest point.
Niall’s eyes grew wide. “You surely don’t expect to catch our food with your sword?”
“Why not?”
Niall’s brow wrinkled, and his mouth quirked upwards. “Just take care not to stab your feet, please?”
She spotted some fish and slowly, with practised expertise, readied her blade in the water. With immense speed, she sliced through it, pinning down her lunch. “Got one.”
Cabal whistled. “Now that is impressive. I’ve got to have a try.” He slid down and motioned for Alys to pass her sword.
She shook her head and shrugged. “’Tis very difficult, and I’ve had a lot of practice…” The man clearly seemed confident, and she surrendered her weapon to him. Well, it’s not like she didn’t warn him.
Taking her fish, she returned to the riverbank and watched Cabal attack the water. She covered her mouth to disclose her laughter, and instead turned toward Niall. “We might be here a while.”
Grinning, Niall kicked up his feet and stared back at the inscription on the monument. “You know, this is another Scripture. From the Gospel of Mark, if I recollect correctly.”
“I know, but ’tis surely a strange reference for a stone cross. I cannot possibly think what it’s supposed to mean.”
“Well, during the crucifixion, at the sixth hour, darkness covered the earth because of the sin that Christ took upon himself.” He wrinkled his brow. “Which…links to your belt.”
She glanced back at her bu
ckle. The symbols for sin and righteousness did indeed connect with the Scripture. “Then the sixth and ninth hour…” she paused. “Could they refer to a time of day? What time was the sixth hour?”
Niall shielded his eyes from the sun and looked up into the sky. “Midday…so anytime now really.”
Alys gasped and scanned their surroundings, then chuckled. What was she hoping to find? It was unlikely God would just send them an angel or cause a tree to sprout from the ground, for goodness sake. She glanced back at Cabal, who was drenched through with water, but still no closer to acquiring them any more fish. He’d drifted further out and stood in the centre of where the two rivers connected. She quirked her eyebrows. “You know, the rivers make a natural cross don’t they.”
Niall turned to study Cabal, and then drew his gaze back to the monument. “Aye, and, quite remarkably, precisely parallel to us.”
A slight breeze picked up, causing the hairs on her arm to stand on end, and she glanced at the sky, as the clouds shifted, and the sun’s rays peeked through. A dazzle of blue light suddenly flashed in her eyes. Was that her sword? She stared at Cabal holding her sword in the water. Its cross-like shape suddenly struck her. She turned back to the monument and studied the Calvary scene. Three crosses.
“Uh oh,” grunted Cabal.
She tore her gaze from the cross and back to her bodyguard. “What is it?”
“I think it’s stuck.”
Cabal pulled on her sword and it wobbled, the light of the sun gleaming directly through her sword’s pommel, and momentarily blinding her. “Hang on, I’ll come and see.”
She waded through the river and out into the centre.
How strange.
She crouched down to get a closer look, pushed away the green moss and spotted that her sword was jammed between two rocks. She stared… these were man made, for they were more like square slabs. Like part of a foundation to a wall. She tugged at the blade again, and the hilt of the sword wobbled.
“Alys…”
At the tone in his voice, she glanced up, and gasped as a small light moved around the shadowed part of the monument.