Young Writers Society

Somewhere in Fethror, 1319ҕ Third Era of Jerikova

The main road between Guthror and Fethror was heavily traveled. Peasant farmers were regularly going back and forth between the two kingdoms for trade. Guthror, being composed mainly of rolling grasslands and prairies, constituted a large corn, wheat and vegetable supply. The peasants of Fethror, on the other hand, farmed primarily livestock, as Fethror had many more forested areas with less fertile soil. Sondíks fleeing Guthror were common as well, because as Yanko’d said, Alaric didn’t care for the Sondíks. Also, the presence of Fethror’s Royal Guard on the road had been heightened immensely over the past four months since Alaric took power in Guthror; her father didn’t want to give Alaric’s men the chance to slip past.

Ysolara made Wolfria pull her hood up further over her hair and check that her black veil was securely in place over her cheeks, lips and nose as they approached a group of Fethroran Royal Guard. She’d been fortunate in managing to avoid the Guard thus far, but she knew it was only a matter of time.

To Ysolara’s dismay, Wolfria, her Sondíks and the Guard were the only people in sight on this stretch, despite the hustle and bustle they’d wormed through not an hour before. They were easy pickings. The three burly Guards aligned their muscled destriers nose to tail and blocked their way as they drew closer. Wolfria’s stomach clenched and she felt adrenaline begin to course through her body, Ysolara clearly preparing her to take flight at a moment’s notice.

“Halt! We are stopping everyone on the roads to search for the missing princess. Everyone dismount now,” one of them ordered.

The sun glared off the man’s steel helm, all but blinding her, but it highlighted the silver-embroidered elk stags in his blue cloak. Because he was a mounted Guardsman, he did not employ the full suit of armor that many other Guardsmen did. The placards, brassards, gauntlets, tasses, knee-cops and greaves, along with everything else that went into a suit of armor, became much too cumbersome when trying to guard the realm on horseback and chase after criminals. Instead he wore chainmail and carried a wooden shield with the Dvorak sigil branded onto it.

“Missin’ princess? What is this yerr tellin’ us?” Yanko asked as they all five hopped to the ground.

“The Princess Wolfria is gone, and the king has ordered us to bring her home,” the man spoke again as he dismounted.

“Whaddya mean she’s gone? Are ye sayin’ she jest dis’ppeared and no one knows where she is?”

“We’re not saying anything. Now, please sir, step aside.” The Guard pushed past Yanko and Peeta and strode to where Wolfria stood with the children. One of the men reached to remove Wolfria’s veil and Ysolara’s commands reached out to her. You must not be caught. Her muscles tensed, ready to swing herself back up onto Azore and gallop off into the wilderness at the violet woman’s word.

“Now, sir, lookee here, this woman is not the Princess Wolfria, I kin assure ya. This is my sister, Tanyy’; her husband jest done died of the fever, so’s she wears the veil for mourning, ya see. I’d ‘ppreciate it iffen ya left her in peace,” Yanko said quickly, to Wolfria’s surprise.

Mirela grabbed Wolfria’s hand as the Guard hesitated, glanced down at the gaudy necklace she exhibited across her throat, then looked up into her eyes that peered out over the veil. When she looked back into his, she saw a violet glow reflected there and knew Ysolara was enchanting him, convincing him that Yanko had spoken true. With a glazed-over expression blanketing his face he finally backed away. “Alright, you can keep moving. But if you see or hear anything about the princess, tell a Guardsman right away. It’s imperative she gets home safely. That bastard Alaric Vatrark will do anything to get his hands on her, you know.”

“Yessir, of course, sir!” Yanko agreed enthusiastically. The Guard let them pass. Wolfria felt her head bow at Yanko when he looked at her, but Ysolara kept her quiet as they were still within earshot of the Guard. Wordlessly he nodded back. Then they journeyed in silence until they were a safe distance away.

“The princess is missin’? Thet’s rather odd, don’t ya think, Peeta?” Yanko asked his friend quietly.

“Very odd,” Peeta grunted as they both turned to stare at her.

“And that Guard let us pass too easily, methinks. He barely even looked at Ms. Ariana. That’s odd too, isn’t it?” Yanko continued.

“It is,” Peeta agreed. “Tell me, Ms. Ariana, why did the Guard not examine ya more closely? Any good Guard woulda, but he didn’t even question Yanko’s story. Why is that?” His eyes darkened as he watched her, skepticism clear on his and Yanko’s faces.

Ysolara hesitated, but then apparently decided to take advantage of the situation and make use of Wolfria’s new relationship with the Sondíks in any way she could. “Would you believe me if I told you I compelled him to let us pass?” she had Wolfria ask.

They glanced at each other anxiously, tight lines forming at the corners of their mouths while their brows drew together in suspicion. “Perhaps,” Yanko said carefully. “What exactly do ya mean by compelled?”

“I mean just what I said. I compelled him to disregard me, just as I will compel your compliance when the time comes,” Wolfria-Ysolara said.

Peeta shook his head at her. “What are ya talkin’ about? Ya can’t jest make people do what ya tell them to.”

“Actually, I can,” Wolfria answered, and she saw the tell-tale violet haze reflecting off their faces, indicating Ysolara was making herself known. “And there may come a day when I need your help, when Jerikova may need your help. I will call, and you will answer. You cannot fight it so you may as well accept it.”

What on earth does Ysolara have planned that she’ll need the help of Sondíks with?

Peeta and Yanko stared at her in something like terror and awe. “I don’t know what ya are, but I don’t want any trouble, miss,” Yanko said carefully, fearfully.

“And I shall give you none. All I need for right now is your silence. Should anyone ask, you never met me or saw me, you know nothing of me. Do you understand?”

“Yes, understood, but please, miss, I do not want my children to know about anything,” Yanko said.

“Don’t worry, they cannot hear us,” Wolfria said plainly with a wave of her hand.

Peeta was still staring at her in suspicion and disbelief, not entirely sure what to make of the situation. “How is this possible? Who are you?”

“That is not for you to know. Not yet, at least. Jerikova is falling apart at the seams, so I have come to stitch it back together, however long it takes.” With that, she blinked her eyes and the haze disappeared, indicating her glowing eyes had returned to normal.

The men glanced at each other warily but kept silent as they let the matter drop. Sondíks were a superstitious people, it was no surprise to her that they were so willing to accept her claim of compulsion as truth. And they knew better than to ask too many questions. Their religion told them to follow life wherever it led, to believe in things they may not understand, and to acknowledge that things may not always be what they appear. Wolfria dropped back to join the children at the rear of the group.

“I hope the princess is okay,” Mirela said to no one in particular, still bewildered from their encounter with the Guard.

“Why do ya care, Mirela? You’ve never e’en met her,” Luca said in response, one of the first times Wolfria had heard him speak.

“I don’t need to meet her. Muva always said thet Wolfria and Tatiana Dvorak are the nicest, most beautiful princesses there are!”

“She’s probably dead,” her older brother spat.

Almost feeling insulted, Wolfria studied the boy further. His voice sounded harsh, but his face said otherwise. She didn’t think he really wanted to fight with Mirela, but there really wasn’t a whole lot to do on the road, and they’d been on the road much longer than she had.

“I don’t think she’s dead,” Mirela stuck up for herself. “She can’t be. I’ve still gotta meet her someday. Can’t very well do that iffen she’s dead, kin I?”

A soft chuckle escaped Wolfria’s lips as she watched the two bicker. After a moment of thought she realized she was sort of glad she’d been coerced into journeying with this Sondík group. They offered protection and food, two things she desperately needed. More than that, they offered company, and that was something she didn’t know she’d desire so much. Ysolara only gave commands and pushed thoughts and actions into her head, she was not friendly or the least bit interested in what the princess had to say. It would be hard to say goodbye to these people, especially little Mirela.

It’s all for the best. You don’t want to endanger them any more than you have to. Think of the things Alaric will do to them if he finds out they’ve helped his mortal enemy, Ysolara reminded her plainly.

Wolfria’s lungs seized up at that. Of the things she’d heard about Alaric Vatrark, his mercy and understanding were not among them. Rat torture, impalement, thumb crushers, the brazen bull, the rack, drawing and quartering, cannibalistic rituals and even more horrifyingly gruesome torture methods had all been whispered with his name throughout Fethror. This man had no qualms doing whatever it took to get the information he desired. He was most certainly the Dakhanavar King.

Dakhanavar… The word made her shiver, goosebumps racing down her arms and a tremble slithering down her spine. She prayed to the gods daily that it wasn’t true, that Dakhanavar wasn’t real, because if it was then that meant she would soon be facing it. Facing a mortal man, a heathen man no less, but still mortal, was one thing; facing Dakhanavar was completely another.

No matter how she tried to squeeze information out of the purple woman, she was no closer to learning of the plan than she was back in her quarters at Keep Fethorr’n. But though Ysolara hadn’t actually told her she would be meeting Alaric, Wolfria felt in her heart that’s what this crazed journey to Guthror was about, for what other reason could there be? The princess could think of none and it terrified her.

May the gods be with me.

For reasons unknown to her, Ysolara smirked.

***

It had already been a few hours since Wolfria had parted ways with the Sondíks, leaving them to their journey and continuing on her own. Palsryche wasn’t far now, and Ysolara had her leave Azore behind, finding him a new home where he would be cared for, because wherever it was she was going, she wouldn’t be able to take care of him herself. She had come across what appeared to be a well-to-do farm, and that is where she left the stallion, in a distant grassy pasture. The field featured rolling green hills, a small lake and sturdy fences, the perfect place to leave him.

With a mournful kiss on his velvety nose, she turned him loose, hanging his tack up neatly on the fence and watching him trot forward a few steps before he stopped to sniff the ground. He turned back toward her for a few moments, as if to say goodbye, then raced across the open field.

Hoisting her pack over her shoulder, Wolfria journeyed forward on foot, following Ysolara’s every instruction. She kept to the inside of the trees parallel to the road, rendering her close to invisible for any Royal Guard who chanced to ride by. It was late afternoon when she reached Palsryche, the village just outside Keep Guthirr. This was it. This was her destination, and likely the place of her death. All she’d gleaned out of Ysolara was that she would be staying really close to the Keep for an undetermined period of time, and that she would learn more of the plan as the days passed and she had more tasks to fulfill. It had not been a very reassuring conversation.

The village of Palsryche was one of the larger villages in Guthror. Many of the streets on the outer edge were of packed dirt, but the inner streets were of tan and grey cobblestone. This was where the nicer shops of the village could be found, with rectangular banners and small wooden signs dangling from the awnings, advertising the shop name and perhaps what kind of wares awaited inside. They sported sturdy wooden doors painted with bright, attractive colors and glass windows displaying the merchandise to the outside world: cakes and tarts and sweet candies, fancy leather boots, feathered hats encrusted with jewels and gemstones, clocks and golden pocketwatches, meat pastries and sausage links and shepherd’s pies, herbs, spices, bolts of silk and cotton and wool in every imaginable color and pattern, alluring colognes and seductive perfumes… It all looked so wonderful and inviting.

Contrarily, the shops and buildings at the outer edge of the village showed rickety doors, poorly made signs, faded and peeling paint, and a distinct lack of glass in the windows. Where the nicer shops had wooden boardwalks along the entrances, these had only dirt and sometimes a rough mat here or there. The houses scattered throughout the streets followed the same pattern as the shops, but even the best looking Guthroran houses fell far short of the splendor of the Fethroran houses. The only people in all of Guthror that could be considered rich or well-off were the king and a handful of noble houses, vastly different from the state of the other Four Originals.

Beyond Palsryche, to the west she could just make out the incredible stone archway that hung over the road leading into Keep Guthirr. Rooftops blocked her view of the castle this day but she knew she would be seeing plenty of it within the next few weeks and probably months, and from a much closer distance.

“Will I be staying at an inn, then?” Wolfria asked quietly.

No, that would be too risky. Someone might recognize you.

“Can’t you just compel everyone like you did with the Guard?”

Yes, but that would be an extraordinary amount of people, and that can get very complicated. I would much rather play it safe.

“So where am I supposed to stay? An abandoned barn, cozying up with the rats and spiders, perhaps?” the princess scoffed in irritation.

No, you will be staying somewhere far more remote, where it is unlikely you shall see another human unless you seek them out.

“And where might that be?”

The Royal Estate, of course.

Wolfria felt as if someone had dropped a rock in her stomach. The Royal Estate consisted of the lands surrounding the castle that belonged solely to the king. There were mountains and lakes and forests and caves, and trespassing on the Royal Estate without the king’s permission was likened to treason. If someone hunted on the Royal Estate without the king’s permission, that was stealing from the king himself. She couldn’t imagine what the punishment would be for living on the king’s land without his permission. Not to mention the hordes of wild boars she was sure roamed out there, goring anything that got in their way with their large tusks and eating the bloodied body for dinner.

At least there are no lions or bears here, princess. And the wolves have all been driven north.

“I think I would rather face a wolf than a boar,” she argued.

Suit yourself, the violet woman shrugged.

None of the peasants or merchants or children playing kick-the-ball amongst the streets of Palsryche had seen her yet, and Ysolara planned to keep it that way. With a deep breath, Wolfria turned into the woods to discover her new home for the foreseeable future. Granted her current situation, it was hard to be sure of anything, to know what her future held, but she knew one thing for certain: from this day forth everything would change.