“Yes, my lady,” he replied with a bow. Turning to the men, he shouted, “You heard her. Now, get a move on. We haven’t got all day.”
Hazel felt reassured that she’d selected the right man, which was fortunate since she’d merely chosen him because he was the only one she knew. Next, she gathered the servants. “Bretta,” she said to Lady Nora’s favored maid. A shadow crossed both their faces as they looked to one another, understanding what they’d lost. But Hazel could not afford the time to discern how she would mourn her guardian just then. “I am glad you are safe,” she ended. Turning to the lot of them, she continued, “Search for something to wrap Prince Armond in. Then bring him water and food. You may have to force-feed him. Then get him into the first tent that’s built. And watch him, Bretta.” Leaping from her horse to draw the maid aside, she added, “Inform me when he has returned to his senses.”
“Will he return, my lady? He’s been muttering strange speeches since we found him.”
Hazel nodded with an assurance she did not feel. “He will if I have anything to say about it. And remember, he is our king now. I leave it to you to do your best to make him whole.”
“Lady Hazel,” said Laurene, Hazel’s favorite cleaning maid whom she’d bribed with teacakes to keep her books concealed beneath the bed. The girl drew a small cage from behind her skirts. It was the galmoira.
“Oh, you saved him!” Hazel cried, looking upon the girl with teary eyes. She’d been forcing the poor creature from her mind since the catastrophe occurred.
Laurene grinned. “This fellow and I have grown to be friends since you brought him to stay. Was the first thing what entered my mind when I knew we must escape.”
Hazel hugged the girl, though she was not embraced in return. Indeed, the maid appeared quite rattled.
“W-well, I’ll just set him in a safe place for now, if you don’t mind.”
“Laurene, you must keep him as your own. I did not cast him even a thought in my own escape. He deserves the master who best feels his worth.”
The maid’s face grew red as she curtsied, then curtsied again. “Oh, I thank you, my lady! I will prize him the whole of my life.”
By evening, Hazel’s throat was hoarse from giving orders. She was unaccustomed to speaking so much. The number of those gathered at the wreckage of Castlehaven had more than doubled as survivors arrived for help and guidance. It was with more speed than she’d expected that tents were erected. They were a welcome retreat from the winds that whipped through the camp.
It hadn’t taken long for her to realize someone must be sent in search of food. She directed a group to take whatever they could find, whether from markets, farmland, surviving homes. Anyone sent out was to carry a message to survivors: gather at Castlehaven if they wished to endure. Considering she’d been hearing stories of more dragon attacks, some even slain, she did not think this would be disputed by anyone. Thankfully, all other dragons described were much smaller than the one that had destroyed the castle. Most were only a little larger than a horse.
As for supper that evening, she took cues from the Clan of Galmoira. Bonfires were built, over which skewers of food were prepared. The light they provided was a comfort and the comradery found around them drew even laughter from one of the groups. It brought Hazel hope that they just might make it out of this disaster, but it also made her ache.
That night, she lay awake in her tent. She’d been one of the few afforded her own, while almost all else were forced to share, even with strangers. But the people had insisted she and Armond, their only nobles, be afforded their own spaces. Hazel would have insisted Armond have his own, anyway. All evening, she’d worked to hide him. The people could not continue to see him in his current state. It made her ill as it was. Since she had actually been the one to slay the beast, she could not fathom why he responded thusly. But she supposed it had more to do with witnessing the destruction of his entire life than just the terror of the monster… the dragon.
The people had begun to call it that after she’d let it slip. She was certain they wondered why she knew what to call a creature none had ever seen before. She wondered, herself, how the prophet had known it. He’d claimed they’d been lured to a flame conjured by dark arts, but where had they come from before that? Had they been hidden?
Now, she could but hope the remainder of the dragons out there would keep away from the haven she was building or all her plans would be for not. She’d proclaimed Gunther in charge of the lookout and the guardsman were to take shifts keeping watch as the camp slept. She wondered if anyone would sleep that night, knowing there were more monsters out there, continuing to reap destruction—more that could come for the little they had left.
She sat up. They had no military. The Deep South could come for them at any moment to lay claim to the land. She lay back down. The remaining dragons would act as a deterrent. Even so, they required protection from their enemies, man or monster. But what could be done?
Blythe and the Clan of the Galmoira came to mind. He had called her family, had pledged loyalty to her. If he thought he could but spare some men, perhaps even rally a number from the other tribes, they might at least be able to aid in protecting the camp from the dragons while they rebuilt. Not to mention, she felt the use of a bow and arrow would make a more proficient weapon against them… considering one would not have to race up their backs to get a blade into them.
Someone cleared their throat outside her tent. “Hazel,” a man’s voice whispered.
She crawled over to pull the flap aside. “What is it?”
“It’s Dorian.”
“Dorian!” She leaped out. “I thought you were dead,” she sobbed, wrapping her arms about his neck.
He patted her back uncomfortably. “I should have been, but some of the stone wall in my cell crumbled and I was gifted a small hole through which to escape. I heard you’ve been giving orders. Thought that was impressive. I’ve been in the group of those searching for food since Armond slew the beast.”
She shook her head. “It’s not impressive at all. I’m just all we have right now… until Armond snaps out of his stupor. Oh, I’m just so relieved you’re alive… and you’re here. You didn’t run away?”
“You thought I would?”
“Well, I don’t know… you’re technically still a prisoner. Once we rebuild, I don’t know what will become of you.”
“Well, I’m not leaving you now.”
“Me?”
“You stuck by me in my darkest hour. I’m going to help as much as I can. When all is said and done, well, we’ll see what happens.”
She sighed. “You’re a better man than I thought you were. That is, when I found out… everything.”
“I’m no better. I’m just… returning a great favor. You have no idea what a bright light you were in those dungeons.”
“But you always fought me! You told me to stay away.”
“You didn’t belong down there and… I don’t deserve your friendship. But so long as I have it, I will aid you. Deal?”
She nodded.
“I have some… interesting news,” he said.
“Yes?”
“Dianna and her ladies are alive.”
“What? Where are they?”
“Hiding in a cave.”
She raised a brow at him.
“They were, uh, visiting me in the dungeons when everything transpired—trying to gain information about you. Their escape route was cut off. The bars to my cell busted, so I was able to pull them out through my whole in the wall. I got them to safety when I saw the beast. But Dianna…”
“What about her? You said she was alive.”
“Yes, but her hair caught fire. She’s… bald. A few wisps here and there I guess, but… she refuses to come out of hiding.”
“Are you kidding me? The kingdom just lost everything and she’s afraid of people seeing she’s lost her hair?”
He nodded.
Hazel could scarcely believe that of all the nobili
ty to have survived, it had to be the most useless girls in all Kierelia. She swallowed her bitterness down. “Would you mind taking some food and blankets to them?”
“Already have. I think they are as comfortable as possible just now.”
She nodded. “They will have to begin doing their fair share tomorrow.”
“So I told them. Only Stacia seemed to take me seriously. Rebecca just whimpered and Dianna sat silently in her corner.”
“Sounds like Armond.”
“I’ve heard. These pampered royals don’t seem to be primed for hardship.”
“Who can be, really, for something like this?”
“You seem to be handling it in spades.”
“‘Seem’ is an appropriate word.”
He raised a brow. “I don’t think you’re giving yourself enough credit. You just built something here from nothing.”
“Well… we’ll have to see if it’ll hold. I need to find Gunther.”
“I’ll fetch him. What do you need him for?”
“We must get a message to the Clan of Galmoira.”
13
"Good morning, Armond,” Hazel greeted as she entered his tent.
He didn’t move. It was as Bretta had said. He was no better and the deep shadows under his eyes revealed he hadn’t slept a wink.
She slapped him across the face.
“Aaaahow!” he bellowed, bounding back from her. “What is wrong with you, Lady Hazel?”
“Oh, good. You’re awake. Listen, we need to make some plans.”
“Plans? What are you talking about?”
“Armond, I need you to step it up. You are technically king now. You’ve been trained for this.”
“Hazel, I can’t! You don’t understand. I’ve never seen or heard of anything like this. I don’t know what we’re going to do and… I have a confession.”
“Don’t tell me you’ve fallen in love with me,” she said ruefully.
He blinked, not seeming to grasp the jest. “I didn’t slay that dragon.”
“I know. I did.”
“You?”
“You don’t have to sound quite so surprised.” Though she had to admit, it was just as farfetched to her that a feeble, little needlewoman had done it.
“We have to tell people,” he said quickly. “They all think I’m their hero.”
“They have to believe it was you.”
“They have to believe a lie?”
“It’s the only factor that’s made you appear like you’re capable of leading us out of this.”
“But I’m not. I’m so not. I was tutored to lead a thriving kingdom. Nothing prepared me for this. I just can’t see us digging our way out. We are at the mercy of the Deep South or whoever comes for us first.”
She slapped him again, thrusting a finger in his face. “Speak that way again and I’ll have you fortuitously tossed off a cliff. We need you, you inconsiderate dolt. And if I have to work tooth and nail to see you do your duty, I will.” She paused a moment, studying his face. He looked pitiable—nothing like the prince she’d so venerated. What were they to do? “From now on, you will follow my direction. You will say what I tell you to say until I feel you’ve earned your right to a voice. Do you hear me?”
He nodded, rubbing at his smarting cheek. “I’m so glad you’re here, Hazel.”
“You ought to be. You’d be dead if I wasn’t.”
Before long, he emerged from his tent. A wave of whispers followed as the camp watched him. Just as Hazel had anticipated, they expected some word from their king.
He turned to them. “I thank you all for your fortitude and generosity during this most distressing of times,” he shouted. “And I…” He hesitated, eyeing Hazel with discomfort. “I thank the Lady Hazel for following out my directions while I have been unwell.”
Applause ensued as glittering eyes looked to her. She’d been afraid of this. They’d already grown accustomed to turning to her. It was why she’d forced him to claim credit for her dealings.
“I know you will do all you can to help her and I see this kingdom back into harmony... and safety.” He turned to the castle ruins and she saw his hand begin to quiver at the sight. He swiftly concealed it behind his back as he re-centered his feet. “We will rebuild and will grow stronger than ever because we have endured this fire. We have been tested and we will prove ourselves worthy to call ourselves Kierelians.”
The crowd applauded, causing a smile to creep onto Hazel’s face. She’d known they would like that. They loved their kingdom as she did. They loved the land and the land was what they had left. They were at their lowest point but could only grow from there… that was, if they survived.
The remainder of the day was spent much like the one before. Hunting parties were sent to continue garnering food. Men and women were set to sorting through the rubble that would one day be their fortress again. Whenever a fortunate survivor was discovered in the wreckage, it was proclaimed to the whole camp and all came running to celebrate them.
Before long, Hazel discovered they were fortunate enough to have an architect among them. Along with Armond, they went to work designing a new stronghold, stronger than the last and to be built as swiftly as possible. It would be smaller, but they would construct further in future. Just now, they required a home base.
They also planned for new homes to be developed around the castle, as there had been before. These would be erected even more rapidly in order to shelter the people while they completed the castle. They couldn’t be expected to continue living in tents after all. The weather would soon turn and the season of rains would begin.
Hazel and Armond met with all the remaining guardsmen and even promoted some of the fittest villagers to join their number. It was imperative they have protection from the dragons that might yet come to decimate what they worked to restore. Hazel relayed her request for aid from the southern tribes—something that was deliberated over. It seemed no matter how much she assured them that the tribes were nothing like they’d grown up believing, the well-established anxiety remained.
It was the grace of the Great Entity, she was certain, that no more dragons were spotted in the vicinity, though more and more villagers arrived with reports of destruction. Once, someone had declared they spotted one of the winged creatures soaring overhead, but as no one could attest to the trueness of the claim, they were left to watch the skies with trepidation.
It wasn’t until they had nearly ceased work one evening that the survival of The Mirror was discovered. Great boulders blocked off the entrance, but the etching above the door made clear what it was. Hazel raced up to the lone structure and pressed her face against it. Inside… was hope. The late King Zephuel may have lost the Entity’s favor for his kingdom, but they could regain it. Perhaps they already had, if this room’s survival was any testament.
“This will be the heart of the new fortress,” she announced. “We build from this, the soundest of center stones.” With eyes shining, she looked to Armond, who clearly could not grasp her elation—what the room’s existence could possibly mean for them. She scarcely understood what it meant herself, considering she couldn’t actually recall anything that had ever happened within.
Recalling the note she’d written herself about investigating the room beyond, she went to that wall and ordered the workers to help her clear the rubble away. Before long, they revealed something like an altar or shrine. But unlike The Mirror, this was destroyed.
Squinting her eyes, Hazel knelt. In the center of the small space were the remains of a large purple stone—dull, cracked and… lifeless, she found herself thinking. Beneath this was a black amulet. She gathered these up into her hands.
“Does anyone know what this is?”
“Queer stones, my lady,” a villager responded.
“Yes, but you can see there was a small room here. I know for a fact it possessed no entrance. Does anyone know what the room was for?”
None present possessed an answer. Thi
s only furthered the mystery of The Mirror. Dropping her findings into a skirt pocket where she used to conceal books, she determined to ponder it later.
“Hazel,” Dorian said as he approached. “Are we to abandon the great ladies to their cave again tonight?”
“They still haven’t absconded it? For heavens, they’ve no right to sit back while we do all the work.” Her mind raced for what to do with them. “Take Armond to them. Tell him I want them here and put to work or they shan’t receive another morsel of food. If they refuse, the two of you may drag them here to me and I will deal with them myself.”
He nodded and turned to go, but hesitated. “Do you… have something that could be used for a headscarf?”
“For Dianna?”
He nodded, perhaps a little meekly.
She couldn’t help admiring his thoughtfulness of such a selfish person, but this did not alleviate their dilemma. There was not much spare cloth to be had. At last, she gazed down at her skirts and tore a piece from it. “Use this for now. We will fabricate something more suitable later.”
* * *
“Someone is here to see you, my lady,” Gunther reported one evening.
“I’m terribly occupied, Gunther. Who is it?”
He leaned in close. “It is the southern tribes.”
“Oh! Has Blythe sent some of his men?”
“Some? That depends on how many he had to begin with.”
Quirking a brow at him, she strode in the direction from which he’d come. Entering what remained of the surrounding forest, she found Blythe standing with hands on his hips, the customary bow and arrows over his shoulder. What she saw behind him stole her breath away.
“Blythe, what is this?”
“This, my Lady Hazel, is what is left of the southern tribes.”
“What is left?” She estimated their numbers and guessed at about five hundred people complete with gear and baggage.
“Aye, the beasties came after us as well. It’s all gone. Well, not the whole forest. Just our homes. All the same, we come to you not as refugees but allies. We will remain until your kingdom is on its feet once more. Afterward, we will restore our own homeland.”
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