This chapter is short -- I know it is short -- but nevertheless ... here it is. This is actually the chapter on which the sequel is based, but never fear, because the sequel is dead, dead, dead ... never to rise again. :] So. While nothing of any particular merit occurs, I am rather fond of the way I wrote it, so if you have a critique, I'm *very* interested -- as always -- to hear what you have to say.
~*~
King Anull sensed something was astir, as did Oiden, but neither of them managed to pinpoint what, exactly, it was. The mountains at Tvaar’s back had swelled with soldiers, men and women alike ranging beneath trees and hunting on the slopes. They were ready, and waiting, for Aedaan’s promised support in a week’s time.
Just within the tree line, nearly to the foothills, a large shadow-colored tent had been erected, in which Lord Genor and Mistress J’engar stayed. It was outside this tent that Daeun was now pacing, Anae playing with a friendly forest squirrel some feet away. He was worried, and rightly so; they were poised for the attack. It all depended, however, on Aedaan’s word. A large number of his people had been put aside for the sole purpose of disguising the bulk of J’engar’s armies, though Ianna assured him that their magics would keep them all but invisible.
A hundred things ran through his mind every moment: Aedaan’s possible failure to send troops; a surprise enlargement of the royal guard; the arrival of the Gaenu, who were stationed now in Eevar, crushing what they believed to be the Resistance; or, worse yet, the failure of he or Ianna to reach the king and the court.
Ianna had given up asking him to stop pacing, and had retired inside, presumably to sharpen her knives or some such menial task.
The days passed slowly for Daeun. It took centuries for noon to come, and centuries more for nightfall; and at night, he could not sleep, but laid rigidly beside Ianna and Anae, staring unblinkingly up at the tent’s roof. Four days before the appointed day, a messenger arrived, riding a wind-broken horse, his own chest rising and falling with alarming rapidity. “Lord!” he gasped. “The J’engar—they have come! They will reach Tvaar in four day’s time!”
Ianna looked up from where she and Anae were playing rocks and stones, and winked solemnly at him. For the first time in weeks, Daeun let out an enormous sigh of pent-up breath and flung himself down onto the ground. He lay there, and slept, for he had slept not at all for days on end, and did not awake until late the next day.
“Anae,” Daeun said, after he had eaten, for that, too, had been a necessity he had done without, “do you remember when we were in Genor, and how we used to play that game—Who Did It?”
Anae nodded, petting the squirrel in her lap. He suspected it of being the same squirrel. “I liked it,” Anae commented softly.
“And you’ve been watching Ianna, like we told you, yes?”
Anae looked up impatiently. “I’ve done everything you told me to, m’lord.”
“Well, then,” Daeun replied, smiling. “Give me your best lady impression.”
With the squirrel on her shoulder, Anae stood up, dusted off her dirty knees, and proceeded to draw herself up into a miniature Ianna, with the same purposeful jut of the chin and cocky angle to the hip. “You there!” Anae barked, making the nearest soldier jump in surprise. “Fetch some water!”
To Daeun’s pleasure—there was a distinct lack of surprise, for Anae found it within herself to order even Ianna around at times—the soldier leapt up to obey, and Anae turned on her heel to glare imperiously down at Daeun. “Well?” she demanded.
“You’re a brilliant child,” Daeun said, and she blushed, though it was hard to tell beneath the dirt and the tan she’d gotten from being out in the sun for so long. “Come here.”
She looked at him shyly, and came slowly closer as if wary; she was unused to being called brilliant, for usually her adjectives included “monster” and “imp.” When she came close enough, Daeun leaned forward, and said in a confident whisper, “You’ve done so well, Anae, that I’ve decided to reward you.”
“Really?” Anae asked, astonished.
“I’m giving you Genor, Anae,” Daeun said, and watched as the smile wiped itself from Anae’s face. “What’s wrong?”
“Isn’t mine, is it,” Anae said sharply. “What’re you thinking, saying a thing like that?”
“You’re exactly who Genor needs,” Daeun said firmly. “Both Ianna and I think so.”
“I’m not nobility!” Anae retorted. “I’m—I’m nobody, I’m an orphan—”
“Not anymore, you’ve got us!” Daeun insisted. “You’d do so well, Anae—I wouldn’t trust anyone else with the throne.”
She looked at him suspiciously, blue-grey eyes sparkling despite the frown on her face, and she grunted.
“Is that a yes?”
“Yeah,” Anae said finally, looking fondly down at the ground. “I’ll look after Genor, when I’m grown.”
“Thank goodness,” Daeun breathed, and hugged her.
“I told you she couldn’t resist,” Ianna said from behind the woven wall of the tent. Daeun didn’t need to see her face to know she was smiling.
