The Alliance

About the Series

2008-11-04T08:00:00.000-08:00

The seven books of The Alliance deal with one man’s spiritual journey and his efforts to find the true king. As he attempts to spread the light of God to his people, an ancient evil threatens both his land and Teman, the neighboring realm of righteous believers. The two formerly antagonistic realms must learn to work together to dispel this encroaching evil.

Through the lives of the characters, many Christian traits and spiritual truths are exemplified. The Alliance is marked by epic battles, political intrigue, suspense, mystery, and romance.

In the Palace of Rygia

Two realms at war.
One woman in danger,
one man at a crossroads,
and a greater threat looms on the horizon.

Only an act of extreme sacrifice can change one man’s heart
and save an entire realm.

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On the Isle of Caledron

An ancient evil threatens to destroy the people of faith...

...and the princess is to be their first victim.

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On the Road to Teman

A king seeks out a wayward son,
a prince loses his greatest love and hope,
and darkness threatens to overtake a realm.

Will one man’s search for light bring the answers he needs
or cause the very darkness he seeks to avoid?

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On the Mountains of Teman

A young maid’s abusive father amasses a great debt.
An entire nation is indebted to a greater power.
Only the righteous king can offer atonement to both.

But pride and intolerance stand in the way.

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In the Heart of a Princess

A lowly orphan girl feels unworthy of the king’s love,
but with the arrival of a mysterious princess from another land,
the fate of the king and of the realm may be up to her alone.

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In the Shadow of Caledron

With a price on both their heads,
Justus Corden and Squire Fox must return to Rygia
to find the true prince and bring him to safety.

Threatened by the darkness themselves,
their friends in Teman are unable to come to their aid.

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On the Throne of Rygia

All his life has led to this one goal—to put the true prince of Rygia on the throne. But he may have to sacrifice people dear to him in order to see it accomplished.

In doing so, he could lose the allegiance of his people.

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About Rygia

2008-11-04T07:30:00.000-08:00

(RYE-jee-ah)

Rygia is a rich land, filled with forests, rivers, and farmland. Yet for its natural richness, its people are decadent. Ruled by eight powerful barons, Rygia's history is replete with war and dissension. One man rises above the rest and tries to bring the light of truth to his countrymen.

About Teman

2008-11-04T07:20:00.000-08:00

(TEE-man)

Surrounded by mountains, Teman has been well protected over the generations. Yet they have recently suffered under a long war against Rygia. Will these God-fearing people be willing to lay aside their animosity and come to Rygia's aid when needed?

About Caledron

2008-11-04T07:10:00.000-08:00

(CAL-uh-drahn)

This mysterious island city lies east of Rygia and Teman, in the Great Sea. Its people are as mysterious as the island; the only records Teman has about Caledron are very old. Thus when Caledron comes to call, no one knows what to expect.

In the Palace of Rygia

2008-09-28T13:59:00.000-07:00

Rygia, a nation of unbelievers, has waged a war against Teman, a realm of believers, for seven years. The general of Rygia’s forces (Justus Corden) discovers a captive Temanite princess and endeavors to use her to devise a means to defeat her people. In the process, he becomes attracted to her inner beauty and challenged by her personal faith, creating a conflict in his spirit between loyalty to country and love of a woman.

When Rygia itself is invaded by an evil neighbor, the people of Teman must decide whether to forgive Justus for warring against them and help him save his kingdom or withdraw to the safety of their own realm. Only a few choose to follow their leader into Rygia in order to help their former enemy.

The princess finds that faith, love, and forgiveness are put to the test like never before. Justus struggles with the concept of being forgiven by those whom he had warred against.

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Meet the characters

On the Isle of Caledron

2008-09-28T13:58:00.000-07:00

This story introduces Teman’s real foe, an enemy from the past who is attempting to use the realm of Rygia to destroy Teman. The Rygian councilman Alton, who is working with this ancient enemy, proposes a plan for capturing the princess of Teman and sending her to the isle of Caledron in exchange for Caledron’s help in taking the throne of Rygia.

Only Justus Corden can rescue the princess, but he becomes captured himself and engaged in a battle as much spiritual as it is physical.

Tainted by the words of the evil prince of Caledron, the princess struggles with forgiving Justus for what he had done in the past. But she learns what it really means to forgive someone—to offer yourself in sacrifice and let the guilty one go free.

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Meet the characters

On the Road to Teman, a prequel

2008-09-28T13:57:00.000-07:00

“Part 1: Justus” tells about Justus Corden’s early years as squire to General Rolland Longsword. When Justus falls in love with a young woman who is betrothed to an evil baron, he challenges the baron in a tournament to a fight to the death.

“Part 2: Areli” tells of the line of prophets of Teman, who are lost after a tragic accident, leaving Teman without a prophet for the first time in history.

“Part 3: Rolland” tells of General Rolland Longsword’s search for inner peace. He elects to join the king of Rygia on a journey to Teman, in hopes that they might find light for their dark realm.

In “Part 4: Darkness,” King James Eliada of Teman learns that the only way to keep the light of Teman shining brightly is to spread it beyond the realm. At the same time, an outside power works to prevent an alliance between Teman and Rygia.

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Meet the characters

On the Mountains of Teman

2008-09-28T13:56:00.000-07:00

Having settled into his manor with his new wife, the princess of Teman, Justus Corden begins a search for an heir to Rygia’s throne—a child of the royal line who is willing to learn the ways of righteousness and lead the realm toward the light of God. This task proves more difficult than he imagined, for no one in Rygia seems to care for an alliance with Teman.

One young Rygian maidservant is in dire straits due to a debt amassed by her father. But the king of Teman himself pays her debt, thus freeing her from bondage. With the entire realm of Rygia now indebted to Caledron, the king of Teman makes a similar offer to them, on a much grander scale, but the people of Rygia are reluctant to accept it.

Meanwhile, the prince of Caledron seeks revenge against Justus by going after both his daughter and his newborn son. Only two Temanite warriors and the aforementioned Rygian maid are in a position to help. But one of them is already affected by the darkness.

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Meet the characters

In the Heart of a Princess

2008-09-28T13:55:00.000-07:00

With Teman’s holy refuge of Mount Avalon destroyed by the Caledronians, the orphan girl Bethany must find a new place to live. She stays with her friend Anna Corden in the palace of Teman and finds that she is in love with the king of Teman himself. Things seem to be going well for her until the arrival of a mysterious princess from the realm of Petros, whose people are descendants of Temanites.

Realizing that she is unworthy of the king’s love, and having been humiliated by the Petrosian princess, Bethany leaves the palace and spends the winter with Princess Martiya in Rygia, where she learns what it means to be a princess on the inside—in the heart.

When Bethany returns to Teman, she finds that the king’s relationship with the Petrosian princess has blossomed, but the princess may not be all she appears to be. Bethany uncovers a plot to destroy the king and finds she is the only one in a position to save him.

This story ends with a battle that many readers say is their favorite segment of all the books.

In a subplot to this story, Justus Corden discovers that his future son-in-law might have something to do with the murder of his mentor, General Rolland Longsword.

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Meet the characters

In the Shadow of Caledron

2008-09-28T13:54:00.000-07:00

“Part 1: Bethany” reveals Bethany’s true heritage and unveils the Temanite king’s deep and irrevocable love for her.

In “Part 2: Portents,” the realm of Caledron comes to collect on Rygia’s debt by taking control of the realm.

In “Part 3: Paulus,” Justus Corden learns of the existence of the true and only legitimate heir of the throne of Rygia. Realizing that this prince will be discovered and killed by Alton, he and Squire Fox (Paulus) return to Rygia to rescue him despite the fact that there is a price on both their heads.

In this book, Justus learns a few surprising truths about his own heritage, and the source of the enduring antagonism between Rygia and Teman is revealed.

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Meet the characters

On the Throne of Rygia

2008-09-28T13:53:00.000-07:00

The time has come to place the 15-year-old prince on Rygia’s throne. As Justus Corden begins planning the battle, he realizes that he must send the newly knighted Paulus (Sir Fox) on a suicide mission. Next, Justus’ son-in-law suffers a life-threatening wound early in the battle. Later, as the battle draws to a head, the life of yet another person dear to Justus hangs in the balance.

But the prince of Rygia intervenes and offers up his own life, demonstrating to the common people that their lives are dear to him and that he truly deserves to sit on Rygia’s throne.

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Meet the characters

Meet the Characters: Book 1

2008-08-28T20:04:00.000-07:00

Meet the Characters: Book 2

2008-08-28T19:20:00.000-07:00

Meet the Characters: Book 3

2008-08-28T18:21:00.000-07:00

Meet the Characters: Book 4

2008-08-28T17:22:00.000-07:00

Meet the Characters: Book 5

2008-08-28T16:22:00.000-07:00

Meet the Characters: Book 6

2008-08-28T15:22:00.000-07:00

Meet the Characters: Book 7

2008-08-28T14:23:00.000-07:00

In the Palace of Rygia: Chapter 1

2008-07-28T17:12:00.000-07:00

It was a bloodbath.

General Justus Corden let his arm drop to his side. His sword felt heavy in his hand. He hiked his silver shield onto his back and lifted his eyes to scan the mountainsides all around him. Empty. His own men were gone, routing any Temanites who remained alive after this latest battle.

Yet he was not alone. All around him lay bodies. Some had golden hair and wore silver chainmail and blue cloaks, like his own. Others, by far the majority, were brown-headed and wore the red and gold cloaks of the Temanite army.

Religious fools. They never learn.

So many dead. More this year than the previous six combined. And for what? Where had it gotten him? He had made little headway, ground-wise. But worse, he felt no vindication. Perhaps there was none to be had, no matter how many Temanites found death at the tip of his sword.

Another scan across the mountains proved him still alone, so he knelt to clean his sword. He grabbed the nearest piece of fabric—a fallen Temanite’s red cloak. This one was an officer, Justus knew. Only the officers wore red. The regulars wore gold.

He slid his sword across the cloak and watched the bloodstains disappear into the fabric. Red. Their cloaks, their blood. All the same.

Rising, he took a deep breath. The smell of death lay heavy in the air, but he had become accustomed to it. Sometimes he felt as though he wore the smell. Or perhaps the smell wore him.

He shrugged it off with something more of a shudder, then plodded up the mountainside. Topping the crest, he took in a welcome sight. Colorful pavilions dotted the northern slope—his camp. The tents were arrayed in no particular pattern, sitting on any flat areas they could find just above the treeline.

All quiet. Empty. No doubt his men were busy keeping the enemy away. That battle he had just left was the closest the Temanites had come to the Rygian camp. The Battle of Victory Mountain, his men had dubbed it. Justus didn’t know the true name of the mountain, nor did he feel they were any nearer to victory, despite the numbers of dead Temanites. Dead Rygians numbered rather high this year as well.

Justus gave himself a moment to take in the quiet. He knew it wouldn’t last long. Might as well make the best of it. His sword still in his hand, he stepped into his own tent—blue and white striped. Leaving the flaps pinned back to let in the September breeze, he slid his shield off his back and set it on the ground at the entry, leaning against a tent post.

He tossed his sword onto a long wooden table that stood in the center of the tent. Spying a stool in the corner, he plopped onto it and rested his aching arms on his knees.

A shadow darkened the entrance to his tent. Justus looked up and squinted at the face of Captain Kelsie. His dirty blonde hair hung in sweaty strings around his unshaven face. His blue cloak, nearly as dirty as his hair, caught a breeze and whipped outward as he stepped into the tent.

“I got word that some Temanites want to make a prisoner exchange.” Kelsie’s voice was a rough as his appearance.

Justus nodded. “Do it.”

“Whaddaya mean, do it? Just like that? We could gain some extra advantage here.”

“No tricks,” Justus said firmly. “Just exchange the prisoners and be done with it.”

Kelsie stared hard at Justus but said nothing.

“Did you see King Medan off?” Justus asked.

“Yeah. He’s on his way. Told me ta tell ya that war council starts in three days. Be sure yer there and don’t be late. Them’s his words exactly.”

Justus nodded. “How far did you get?”

Kelsie pulled a parchment map from his tunic and laid it out on the table. “We took the next mountain south a here. One more mountain range and then there ain’t nothin between us and the main road to the Teman castle.”

Justus heard the demand in Kelsie’s tone. But he wouldn’t be bullied into a snap decision. “The Teman castle is yet a full day’s march once you clear the mountains.”

Kelsie spat on the ground. “So?”

“So…the men are tired and deserve a rest before pushing forward.”

“Ya wait any longer and the Temanites’ll settle in, build their strength round the castle.”

“I’m sure they’ve already done that—”

“We got the upper hand, Corden! Don’t be wastin it!”

Justus rose to his feet. “That’s general to you.”

Again Kelsie spat. “This is the closest we ever got. We need to move forward now!”

“Let the men rest. We’ve lost too many. If we try to stage a siege with numbers this low, there won’t be any men left come winter. We’d be foolish to barge ahead without a decent plan.”

“Are you saying you ain’t got no plan?”

“Not one that uses so few men. I wasn’t expecting our losses to be this high.”

“Well I got a plan.”

Justus crossed his arms and waited.

“First, we need to restock food supplies,” Kelsie said. “I was expecting a wagon yesterday, but it got lost in the mountains.”

“Lost?” Justus asked.

“Fell down a canyon.”

“Typical,” Justus said. “So just how do you expect to restock supplies?”

“I say we raid the nearest Teman village—”

“No! I won’t have it!”

“Wassa matter, Corden? Ain’t gonna let the men take their due spoils?”

“Raiding civilian homes is not spoils, it’s robbery.”

“It’s our due! We earned it!”

Justus knew he couldn’t let the men—especially Kelsie’s men—start raiding villages. They’d take more than foodstuffs, he was certain. Fighting soldiers face-to-face was one thing. Satiating appetites on civilian stores and maidens was unacceptable.

“Any soldier caught raiding civilians will face immediate dismissal,” Justus said.

Kelsie’s eyes and lips narrowed into a grim sneer. “We deserve anything we find on their land.”

“You heard what I said, I will not say it again.”

Kelsie grunted, but at least he didn’t press. He tapped a finger on the open map. “Come here. I wanna show ya something.”

Justus joined him at the end of the table, their backs toward the open tent flap. His eyes followed Kelsie’s stubby finger as it drew a circle on the map.

“This here’s the hill we just took.” Kelsie moved his finger westward down the map. “There’s still a bit of fighting goin’ on over here.” His finger drew a line along the eastern coast. “The main road to the city runs along here. We think the Teman king’s quarters are over this way, on the other side of this here mountain.”

Kelsie’s finger marked a line along the coastal road. “It’s a long stretch from here to the Teman city. Full day’s march, like you said. But mebbe only about a half-day by horseback. If we get a move on, we can overtake the king’s forces before he retreats to his castle. Or mebbe even reach the castle before he does.”

Justus listened, but something else caught his eye. Barely turning his head, he stared at his shield, still propped against a tent post, slightly behind him, near the open tent flap. A formless reflection crossed the shield’s shiny surface.

Keeping his eyes on his shield, he said, “Your plan puts Temanites at our front and at our back. We don’t have enough men to let ourselves become surrounded like that. Not without any backup forces.”

“Well, just what were ya plannin’ to do after takin’ the mountain pass?”

“I wasn’t expecting the war to drag on so long. I thought we’d have the pass long before now, with much fewer losses.”

The figure in the shield’s reflection grew larger. Justus recognized it as Teman by the red cloak. A Temanite officer. Feeling his own scabbard empty, Justus spied his sword laying on the far end of the table, out of reach.

Kelsie was still speaking, but Justus missed most of it. He did catch the end, though, when Kelsie said, “Don’t tell me yer losin’ the will ta fight. Not after what they did ta Gen’ral Rolland.”

The reminder was well placed. Feeling a surge of anger, Justus reached with his right hand to grab the hilt of Kelsie’s sword. At the same time, he shoved Kelsie aside with his left hand. Kelsie’s sword slipped out of its sheath as Kelsie fell to the ground.

Justus twirled about and plunged Kelsie’s sword into the Temanite’s side.

For a second the Temanite stood still, shock and surprise covering his face. But then his look softened. As he fell to his knees, he grabbed at Justus’ arm, a look of determination on his face, as though he had something very important to say. As though sheer will alone could keep him alive one moment longer.

Justus put an arm behind the man and held onto him, trying to keep him upright. With intense effort, the man spoke, and the words he said made Justus’ strength fail him.

“I forgive you.”

On the Isle of Caledron: Chapter 17

2008-07-28T16:00:00.000-07:00

Justus, Philip, Paulus, and Anna rode into Archella shortly after midday. Justus could not help but notice how their reception stood in stark contrast to the last time they had come. The villagers in the streets paid them no attention.

“Strange,” Philip said. “No one seems to take notice of you today. Wasn’t it just a fortnight ago they hailed you as a hero?”

“Yeah, I was wondering about that myself.”

As the horses passed under the portcullis of the castle, Justus was surprised to see many foreigners milling about the courtyard—burly warriors with white skin and thick, long hair, black as coal. On a closer look, their eyes appeared equally dark. He took special note of the wicked weapons hanging from the strangers’ belts.

Paulus turned his head this way and that, appearing more awed with each stranger he stared at.

Anna kept close to Justus. “Who are these people?”

“I don’t know. Philip?”

Philip had no answer, but the expression on his face let Justus know how uneasy he felt. And no wonder—all of the foreigners seemed to take a special interest in him. Their stares moved from Justus to Philip and then stayed there.

“It’s probably nothing,” Justus said in an attempt to ease Philip’s worries. “It’s just that you’re the only Temanite in the country; it’s natural that they’d be curious.”

But Philip did not seem convinced.

Leaving their horses at the stables, Justus led his friends toward the palace. The Rygian guard at the palace door gave Justus a nod when he passed through.

“Well, at least someone remembers me,” Justus said good-naturedly. But the guard did not seem amused.

Upon entering the palace, Justus approached the door to the great hall only to find two hefty foreigners standing guard. They held long spears in their hands, and from their belts hung daggers with double points. Justus reached past them to open the door, but the guards prevented him, crossing their spears in front of him.

“I would speak to Regent Vance,” Justus stated.

“The regent is in conference with my liege,” one of the big men answered.

“And who might your liege be?”

The guard narrowed his eyes and glared at Justus. “The prince of Caledron.”

Caledron? Justus had heard of it, but only scraps of information that were mostly hearsay and nothing more than ghost stories. But when he turned to Philip, he saw all the blood had drained from Philip’s face.

“What is it?” he asked.

Philip leaned close to Justus and whispered, “We should leave this place right now.”

“Why? I have come to see Vance, and I intend to do so.” To the guards, he said, “Announce to the regent that I desire audience with him. I will wait.”

“And who might you be?”

“General Corden!” he snapped.

As one of the guards entered the great hall, Philip pulled Justus aside. “I’m telling you, General, do not stay. We can come back another day.”

“What’s bothering you, Philip? What do you know about Caledron?”

Philip glanced at the Caledronian guard, who had not stopped staring at him. “Not here. Wait until we leave the city.”

“I’m not scared off so easily. Besides, I want to meet this prince of theirs. You can wait out here if you want.”

The first guard emerged from the great hall and announced to the travelers, “The prince will see you now.”

Presumptuous of him, Justus thought as he noted the man did not say Regent Vance would see them, since that was who he asked for.

At the guard’s motion, Justus entered the room. Philip began to turn Anna and Paulus toward the palace door in order to wait outside, but the guards stepped around the three and ushered them all into the great hall behind Justus.

Justus strode through the large room and stepped right up to the high table where Vance and the Rygian councilmen sat with a strange young man and his guards. The young man looked like the rest of the Caledronians, with white skin and dark hair and eyes, except that his hair was short. He kept his eyes on Justus as though studying him intently. Justus returned the stare.

The young man’s eyes were deep and dark, offset by his pale skin. He wore a silvery shirt left open at the neck, revealing a dragon pendant. Over the shirt he wore a black leather vest riddled with iron studs. But what Justus noticed most of all was the chill that had settled in the room. He shuddered.

Finally tearing his eyes from the magnetic glare of the prince, he scanned the table. Several parchments were spread out before the men. Clearly they were in the midst of intense discussions.

Vance greeted, “Ah, General Corden, I’m glad you have come. I wish you to meet Prince Letah Drakon of Caledron.”

One corner of the prince’s mouth turned upward as he said with a hint of derision, “So this is the infamous General Corden. Or shall I say, Corden the Conqueror?”

Justus gave no response, but he continued to scrutinize the prince. He did not know why, but he disliked this prince immediately.

Vance seemed taken aback by Justus’ lack of a hospitable response. He opened his mouth to speak, but just then Anna and the others were brought to stand before the table.

Prince Letah’s attention immediately shifted. Slowly he rose to his feet, his eyes pasted on Anna. “And who might this flower be?”

“This is the general’s daughter, Anna,” Vance answered.

“A-a-a-n-n-n-a-a.” Letah drawled the name as though it were a draught of fine wine to be savored slowly. His lips spread into a wide smile; he beckoned with his hand. “Come, my child. Let us look at you.”

Anna did not move.

Letah’s voice was calm and mesmerizing. “There, there, child, do not be afraid. I only wish to extend to you a proper greeting—which is more than I can say for your father. You may bring your friends if it will make you feel better. I will not harm you.”

No one moved.

Letah cast a disapproving scowl toward Vance, who hurried to apologize.

“Forgive them, Your Excellency; they must be tired from their journey.” To Justus he said, “General Corden, how dare you treat this man so impolitely. He has come to Rygia in peace with a most generous offer for trade. I will not have you insulting him.”

The rest of the council murmured their agreement. Councilman Drake said, “Yes, Corden, what is the harm in letting the prince greet the girl?”

Letah waved a hand as though to show he was not offended. “Do not concern yourselves with the matter; I can go to them just as easily.” He made his way around the table and approached the group, his eyes devouring Justus’ daughter all the while. He stopped just within arm’s reach of her.

At the same time, Justus noticed that several of the Caledronian guards had positioned themselves behind him and his companions, leaving them no room to escape.

Letah spoke directly to Anna. “Now, most beautiful of women, I extend to you greetings from my native home with all honor and appreciation.” He gave a slight bow of his head, never letting his eyes leave hers, and extended his hand to her.

From the corner of his eye, Justus could see Anna’s hand begin to rise and stretch toward the prince. He looked at her face only to see that she seemed entranced by the prince’s gaze. Letah’s dark pools of eyes seemed to hold hers in a viselike grip, beckoning her hand ever closer. He reached to accept her hand. Their fingertips nearly touched.

Justus calmly wrapped his own hand around Anna’s and returned her hand to her side. Anna shook herself and gave a shudder.

Indignant, the prince’s eyes flashed hotly at Justus.

“Excuse us,” Justus said. “We are tired from our journey. If you have no further need for me, Vance, we’ll be going.”

Letah spat, “Not so fast, General. You have not introduced me to the rest of your party.” He stepped in front of Philip; his eyes slowly moved from the top of Philip’s head all the way to his feet then back again. “You’re a long way from home, my sordid Temanite friend.”

Philip swallowed hard, his face ashen.

When Letah finally turned his attention toward Paulus, his tone switched to one of admiration. “And who is this prodigy? I can see by the look of you that you have a promising future. There is the air of a great warrior about you. How did you find yourself with these underlings?”

Paulus followed Philip’s example and gave no response.

The prince took no notice. “If you are willing, I could take you back to Caledron with me, where we would teach you so much more than you could learn here. We have ties to all the great realms in the eastern hemisphere; we have access to the wisdom of the seven seas. I could make you the greatest warrior of all history.”

Paulus never flinched. But Anna could take no more. The long period of standing under such intense scrutiny, after a cold journey with no refreshment, took its toll.

“Father . . .” Her knees gave out from under her. Justus and Philip reached out to support her.

Vance showed genuine concern. “Oh, the poor girl. Have her sit down. Bring refreshment.”

It was just the distraction Justus needed. He whispered to Philip, “Take her home. Paulus, you too.”

While the Caledronians made way for a chair to be brought to Anna, Philip took hold of her and led her and Paulus out the door. The guards made to stop them, but Justus planted himself between them and his friends, hand on the hilt of his sword.

Vance was about to protest, but Letah said disdainfully, “Let them go,” and returned to his place at the high table. He sat down and glared at Justus, drumming his fingers on the table.

The regent looked unhappy as well. “General Corden, I am surprised at you. The Caledronians have given us a most generous trade offer. They have brought a great deal of goods, things Rygia desperately needs, and are willing to wait until summer to receive their payment in Rygian gold. Here we are finalizing the agreement, and you come insulting His Excellency with your impudent behavior. I find the prince most gracious in not taking great offense and leaving Rygia on the spot.”

Justus only heard Vance’s speech up to one point, on which his mind had riveted. “What gold?”

“Ah, yes, you have been away. We have discovered gold in the mine.” Vance motioned toward a cart sitting near the table.

Justus examined the contents of the cart. Something about this whole situation did not sit easily on his spirit. To the councilmen, he said, “Would it not be wise to give more consideration to this?”

“The papers are already signed,” Drake said.

“What? Without the presence of the entire council? You should make no decisions without a full representation of— ”

Drake interrupted, “Alton and Godfrey are the only council members missing from this meeting. The position held by the late Councilman Beary has not yet been filled. King Medan is dead. Five of us are in attendance, and all of us are in complete agreement. A majority decision has been reached without the necessity of all being in attendance.”

For once in his life, Justus wished Baron Godfrey were there. He would never let such a thing happen. Justus knew that Godfrey’s pride and arrogance would not allow him to condescend to dependency on foreigners, especially ones whom they knew so little about.

Glancing from one councilman’s hardened eyes to another, Justus felt a heaviness settle deep in the pit of his stomach.

On the Road to Teman: Chapter 5

2008-07-28T15:25:00.000-07:00

Dusk began to settle as Justus ran through the streets of the city. He had to see her, had to ask her about what he just heard. He watched the guild emblems above every door, looking for the home of a seamstress. Then he caught sight of a familiar figure ahead. He quickened his pace.

“Katrina!”

The maiden turned around, a look of surprise on her face. “Squire Corden! How is it you’ve discovered my name?”

“Tell me it isn’t true. You aren’t going to marry Baron Godfrey, are you?”

Again the maiden appeared surprised. “I . . .” She shifted her gaze downward.

Justus’ eyes followed hers until they rested upon the expensive white wedding-gown fabric in her arms. “No! You can’t do it!”

“What difference does it make to you? What’s the matter with you, squire?”

Justus gazed deeply into her eyes. There was that look again—pure, innocent, gentle. How can a woman like this even think of marrying such a man?

“Do you want to marry him? I mean . . . in your heart?”

Katrina spoke as though reciting words she had heard on several occasions. “What does my heart have to do with anything? This is marriage. He is a rich man.”

“So that’s it—you want a rich man.”

Her voice was almost inaudible. “No, that’s not the kind of man I want.”

“It’s not? What kind of man do you want?”

She was quiet for a long time, but finally she whispered, “A faithful one.”

“What do you mean?”

She frowned. “You see? Men in Rygia don’t even know the meaning of the word.”

“I know the meaning of the word; I was just wondering what you meant by it.” He dwelled on her words. If faithfulness was what she wanted, he would promise it. Whatever this maiden desired, he would do for her.

He reached his hand toward her face. “Katrina, I—"

The pounding of horse’s hooves interrupted him. He turned about to see a horse and rider bearing down on them. The large man in the saddle bore an angry scowl.

Katrina gasped. “Oh no! Hurry! You must run!”

“I will not.” Justus took a protective stance in front of Katrina. Baron Godfrey loomed ever closer.

Katrina tugged at his sleeve. “Please, go away.”

Justus stood firm, his eyes glued to Godfrey.

Godfrey pulled hard on the reins, bringing his destrier to a sliding halt, hooves digging up the dirt. He leapt from the saddle; the ground shook when his feet hit. As Godfrey stomped toward him, Justus realized just how big he really was.

Godfrey’s icy stare gave Justus chills. When he neared, he shoved Justus aside and growled through his teeth, “Keep your hands off her! If you were a knight, I would kill you right now. But a squire is not worth my effort.”

He grabbed Katrina by the arm. “I’ve told you not to speak to any men. It’s a good thing I came when I did, so I could put a stop to this foolishness.” With Katrina’s arm gripped in his hand, he roughly ushered her away.

The chill Justus had felt gave way to hot rage. Katrina was not just another village wench to be treated in that manner. “Hey! Treat her a little more gently.”

“Gently?” Godfrey laughed. “She’s a woman!”

Justus crossed his arms over his chest. “You treat your dogs better than that.”

“And what if I do? She’s my property.” He tightened his grip; Katrina gave a gasp of fright and pain.

Justus bolted forward and grabbed hold of the man’s huge arm. Godfrey wheeled about, his eyes fuming. He snapped his arm downward, freeing it from Justus’ grasp, then swung it up again, catching Justus’ chin with his fist.

The immense power behind the movement sent Justus sailing through the air. He slammed against the wall of a cottage and slid to the ground, chinks of plaster raining on his head. He groaned in pain.

Satisfied, Godfrey called one last threat. “Don’t let me catch you near her again or you’re a dead man.” Then he turned and dragged Katrina off.

* * *

The next morning Rolland observed his prized squire closely. Justus worked slowly and stiffly as he inspected the general’s chainmail hauberk, stopping now and then to rub a shoulder and wince or put a hand on the small of his back and groan. A purple bruise on the squire’s chin especially drew Rolland’s attention.

“What happened to you?” he finally asked.

“I got into a fight,” Justus mumbled.

“I can see that. But with whom?”

“Baron Godfrey.”

Rolland exploded. “Godfrey! What on earth for? What would you two have to fight about?”

“Never mind.” Justus plopped onto a bench, picked up the general’s helmet, and clumsily began to clean it.

Watching Justus fumble with the headgear, Rolland scratched the stubble on his chin. “Well, now you know what the other guy feels like. Hey, be careful with that.”

“Sorry, General.” Justus laid the helmet back on the table.

Rolland stood to his feet and stepped toward Justus. “You look like you could use a little swordplay. Here.” He unsheathed his sword and handed it to the squire. “You can use mine.”

Justus shook his head. “I don’t think I can—"

“You better think you can! There will be days like this on the battlefield, when you wake up from a short, cold night’s sleep—weary, wounded, and sore—and have to jump right into the thick of battle once again. This is real life, Corden! Get used to it.”

Rolland took his second sword from the table and made a stance in front of Justus. Justus reluctantly responded, nodding when he was ready. Rolland made a couple of easy swings at Justus, who blocked each one rather half-heartedly, then the general began in earnest.

In only a few short strokes, Justus had to admit defeat.

“Defeat?” Rolland roared. “You have never given up so easily! Come on! Do it again!”

The two went at it again, but Justus stopped, letting the tip of his sword droop toward the ground. “I’m sorry, General; I guess my heart isn’t in it.”

Rolland squared himself directly in front of Justus, glaring down at him. “What does your heart have to do with it? Fight! Your life is at stake!” With that, he swung his sword straight toward him.

Justus instinctively jumped back, wielding his own weapon to meet Rolland’s before it sliced his arm off. The general’s words echoed in his mind. “What does your heart have to do with it?” Katrina’s voice played upon his memory. “What does my heart have to do with anything?”

In his mind, Justus could see Godfrey dragging Katrina away. In a flash of anger he fell upon his mentor with renewed zeal. He pressed the attack, swinging the blade with a strength that surprised even Rolland.

The general parried every blow with a smile on his face. Above the din of clashing steel, he shouted, “You fight like a man possessed! What’s gotten into you?”

“Nothing!” Justus said through his teeth, not missing a beat.

“Nothing?” Rolland grasped the hilt of his sword in both hands and swung left and right to keep the raging squire at bay. “If this is nothing, I’d like to see what happens when it’s something.”

The two continued their mock battle awhile longer until Rolland permitted the boy to rest. Justus plopped onto the bench, panting heavily, sweat dripping from his face.

“That was a good one,” Rolland said. “What made you fight like that?”

Justus let himself fall backward to lie upon the bench, sword still in hand. A moan escaped his chest.

The general continued to study him. He sat on a stool and ran a hand through his golden-gray hair. “I’m going to the market after morning lessons. Want to come? You could go to the bathhouse and soak in some warm water.”

“No, thanks.”

“Why not?”

“Godfrey’s still in town.”

“Hah! So that’s it!”

Justus lay quietly a few moments before asking, “Have you ever fought him?”

“Who? Godfrey?”

“Yeah. Godfrey.”

“Once or twice, in the tournaments. But that was a long time ago.”

“Ever take him down?”

“Sometimes.”

Justus pulled himself to his feet. Looking Rolland squarely in the eye, he brandished his sword once again. “Show me.”

Rolland narrowed his eyes. “What?”

“Show me how I can take down Godfrey.”

“Are you possessed? No one crosses Baron Godfrey, least of all a sassy squire.” The general scratched his short, scraggly beard. “What do you expect from a fight with him? Revenge? Because he laid you out?”

“He threatened me.”

“Did he now? Well, you can bet if Baron Godfrey makes a threat, he means to make good on it.”

Justus took a few swings in the air with his sword. “I mean to be ready. What do I need to know?”

Rolland unsheathed his sword once again. With a determined glint in his eye, he set upon Justus with all his strength, holding nothing back.

In only a few, short strokes, Justus was disarmed.

“Come on,” Rolland baited. “Do it again.”

Justus retrieved his weapon and attacked again. Again he was disarmed.

“Come on, boy!” Rolland shouted.

Once again, Justus picked up his weapon and fell upon Rolland. The hilts of their swords locked—their faces only inches apart.

Rolland narrowed his eyes. With a great heave he shoved Justus backward, sending the boy crashing into the furniture.

“Why did you have to do that?” Justus said with a groan of pain.

Rolland stood over the boy, his sword pointing at Justus’ face. “The day you can beat me—that is the day you can go against Baron Godfrey.” He held his free hand out to the squire and helped him to his feet.

Justus put a hand to his sore head. “I have to, General. At least I have to try.”

Rolland sheathed his sword. “The taste of revenge is not that sweet. I won’t put you at that kind of risk.”

“I can do it, General.”

“You overestimate yourself. Overconfidence is a foe, not a friend. Conquer it.”

“Yes, sir.”

Rolland began to pace the room. “What has you so fired up against Godfrey? Judging from the way you fought me just now, I would say you could possibly stand a chance . . . maybe, in time. But you were fighting with anger, not with your head. You have a quick temper. It’ll get you into trouble someday.”

He stopped his pacing and crossed his arms. “It already has gotten you into trouble . . . with Godfrey. What do you suppose would happen if you challenged Godfrey? Do you think his men-at-arms would just stand idly by? They’d be all over you the moment you turned your head.”

“But if I could fight him one-on-one—"

“Where will you find that kind of opportunity?”

“In the tournament.”

“The tournament!” Rolland threw his hands up in exasperation. “Now I know you’re possessed!”

“I can do it, General. If you show me how, I know I can do it. Give me a chance.”

“Have you forgotten you’re a squire? Squires cannot fight knights in the tournament.”

“Is it against the rules?”

“Why, no, I don’t believe there’s a written rule. It’s just understood—”

“Would I be disqualified?”

“Disqualified? You won’t even be allowed on the lists!”

Justus appealed to the general’s propensity for a good joke. “What if no one knew who I was?”

Rolland peered at Justus from the corner of his eye. “What? A disguise?” He scratched his chin more vigorously. “A mystery knight . . . King Archelaus loves a mystery.”

He stuck a finger in Justus’ face. “You’re not yet skilled enough with a lance.”

“I can learn enough to unhorse him, then I can engage him in hand-to-hand combat.”

“Hmm. I would enjoy seeing Godfrey humiliated . . .” Rolland caught himself. “What am I thinking? You’ve tricked me with your demonic guile! Get out of here before it comes upon me as well!”

Justus smiled as he turned to leave. He knew Rolland was hooked.

On the Mountains of Teman: Chapter 17

2008-07-28T14:26:00.000-07:00

Throughout the next morning, Helena tried to keep herself confined to the cookhouse as she did the day before, being too afraid to enter the same room as all the noble people, especially the Temanite king. But she could not avoid it all day. When it came time for the midday meal, the place was such a mass of confusion between feeding the Temanite soldiers in the courtyard and the nobility in the great room that it was not long before Ruth shoved a fancy Temanite dish in her hands and told her to take it to the manor house and set it before the king.

“Oh no, please, ma’am, I can’t do that.”

“Shush, don’t argue, girl, I don’t have time for that. Now get you going.” With that, Ruth shooed Helena out the door.

Helena hurried past the soldiers in the courtyard. Her hands shook; she feared she would trip and spill it all. Nervously, she pushed open the manor house door and halted in the open doorway. She froze when she spied the Temanite king at the head of the table, surrounded by Justus, Martiya, Stephen, Anna, Philip, Paulus, and that intimidating General Garth.

Dinah hurried toward Helena. “Don’t stand there with the door open!”

Helena took one step inside and stopped again as Dinah shut the door behind her.

Martiya looked up. “Look, Helena has the plum goose. Just set it over here, please.” She motioned to an open area on the table right in front of the king.

Helena swallowed hard. Walking ever so gingerly, she made her way toward the head of the table, keeping her eyes glued to the platter in her hands, hoping desperately she would not drop it. Upon reaching the king, she carefully set the dish before him, her hands trembling.

Once the dish was safely on the table, she spun about to leave as quickly as she had come, but then she heard Martiya say, “Josephus, this is Helena, the one I was telling you about.”

Telling him about? What did she say? Helena’s heart jumped to her throat and pounded so hard she thought it would burst right through her skin.

“Helena, this is my brother, King Josephus,” Martiya said.

Helena turned toward the king and managed a curtsey, but she kept her eyes on the floor. She could feel him looking at her, studying her. What is he thinking? She felt smaller than an insect. What does he know? Does he know what kind of person I am? Does he know what I’ve done?

Then came the voice—a voice more noble and sweet than she had ever heard.

“Look up, child.”

Helena felt her eyes drawn upward to look at his face.

“Thank you for your service,” he said.

“You . . . you’re welcome,” she stammered, awed that a king should express thanks to a servant. She heard kindness in his voice, as though his heart was filled with compassion, not judgment. She felt as though she should curtsey and leave, but her feet would not move. All she could do was look into his face and feel as though he knew all about her and yet truly cared.

“Martiya tells me you were found on the road in the snow,” the king said.

Helena gave a timid nod, then cast her gaze again toward the floor.

“How old are you, child?”

In a barely audible voice, she whispered, “Fourteen.”

Then in a move that surprised and shocked Helena, King Josephus took her hand in his.

“Whatever happened must have been awful. I am truly sorry.”

At those words, Helena dared once again to look into his eyes, and she was startled by what she saw. Underneath the golden crown and the curly brown locks of hair, his brown eyes spoke volumes. They said it did not matter what she had done. They said she was a person of value. She even thought she saw tears in his eyes.

Before she knew what she was doing, she fell to her knees at his feet and spilled out the entire ordeal in front of everyone. Tears flowed down her cheeks as she told about being sold by her father three times. The third man had her only a few days, and during that time he severely abused her. Finally he gave her to a fourth man in exchange for some money he owed him. She was forced to walk in the snow behind the man and his mule, but the wind began to blow and the snow became thick around her feet. She was so tired and weak from the beatings that she could not keep up. Soon she could not see where he had gone. She continued down the road as long as she could, but she was so very tired. That was the last thing she remembered before waking at the Corden manor.

At the very end, she blurted, “And now I’m carrying a baby, and I don’t even know who the father is. And my father owes a tremendous debt because of me, and if he ever finds me, I don’t know what he would do.”

The entire room was deathly silent except for a quiet sniffle from Anna.

The next thing Helena felt was two warm hands touching her cheeks and lifting her head. The king of Teman brushed the tears from her face and said to her, “Do not fear, my child. Know this—you are loved beyond measure.”

Helena began to shake her head, but Josephus held her still and continued, “Eleonai loved you so much he died for you. Greater love has no man than this; that he lay his life down for a friend.”

At those words, Helena felt a strange warmth enter her cheeks and flow all the way through her body. Her sorrow began to dissipate.

The next sound was the scratching of Princess Martiya’s chair as she rose and went to Helena’s side, wrapped her arms around her and held her tightly.

* * *

As the guests finished their noon meal and the servants began their afternoon chores, Josephus pulled Justus aside and asked, “When is the meeting with the Rygian council?”

“Day after tomorrow.”

“That gives me plenty of time. Can you tell me where Helena’s father lives?”

Justus scratched his head. “I don’t know, but my steward Demas might. Why?”

“Do not ask me why. Please send for your steward.”

When Demas arrived, Josephus spent a few minutes asking him questions about Rygian law regarding certain matters. When they were finished, he said to Justus, “Now I need a guide.”

“I’ll go with you.”

“No, I want someone less . . . forgive the word . . . obtrusive. Someone who will not attract attention, yet who knows his way around Archella.”

“My messenger Camon fits that description, but . . . what do you plan to do?”

“I would like to keep my business private; I’m sure you understand.”

Justus agreed and sent for Camon.

* * *

“What can I do for you, Your Majesty?” Camon said when he arrived.

“I need you to escort me to Archella immediately.”

Camon’s mouth dropped open. “You need me? To escort you? Forgive me, Your Majesty, but I’m only a messenger, not a bodyguard.”

“I need no bodyguard,” Josephus said. “Just get me a long, hooded cloak.” On second thought, he added, “And a quill.”

Camon asked, “Are you aware that Archella is a half-day’s journey from here? It’ll be dusk by the time we arrive. Do you intend to spend the night there?”

“No. We will return during the night; the skies should be clear.”

“Very well, Your Majesty.”

King Josephus informed Generals Garth and Corden when they could expect him back, just in case he met with any trouble. But he said no more about his intentions and refused to let either of them accompany him.

* * *

Stars began to peek out overhead as King Josephus and Camon rode side by side along the wooded road leading to Archella. Josephus’ appearance was entirely concealed—the brown cloak Justus gave him reached to his knees, showing only his brown boots below the hem. The large hood extended beyond his face, leaving dark shadows underneath.

When they reached Helena’s cottage, they dismounted and approached the door.

“Look at this, Sire.” Camon indicated the notice on the doorpost.

Josephus sidled up to him. “Do not call me Sire while we are here.”

Camon nodded, then began to read the notice. “Let’s see . . . twenty-five for the first man, plus four weeks’ interest, then sold two more times . . .” Pointing with his finger, he noted with a scowl, “Look at this. This guy wants him to pay for the food she ate.”

Josephus frowned. “The last fellow who bought her expects her father to repay the three silver pieces if he does not find and return her. Three silver pieces! What kind of people are these who place such little value on life?”

“The total comes to one hundred pieces of silver,” Camon said. “That’s a lot for a servant girl.”

“Any life is worth much more than that.” Josephus pointed to the names on the notice. “Do you know where these men live?”

“I can find the houses by their craft emblems.”

“Then let us go.”

One by one, they went to the homes of those to whom Helena’s father owed a debt. One by one, Josephus paid each of the debts, dropping silver pieces into greedy white hands and keeping his own tan hands concealed under the cloak sleeves.

Finally the two returned to Helena’s father’s cottage and knocked on the door.

A gruff voice from inside called, “Whaddaya want? Don’t ya know it’s late?”

“I have come to purchase your daughter,” Josephus called.

He could hear sounds of someone moving about inside, then the door opened before them, revealing a rough man with dirty yellow hair, a scraggly beard on which the remains of his dinner still lingered, and fermented breath strong enough to kill a wild boar.

Josephus paid the man’s appearance no mind. “I wish to purchase your daughter. Let me in so we may talk.”

“She ain’t here, an’ I don’ know where she is.”

“I know where she is.” Josephus pulled the edge of his cloak aside to reveal a bulging leather pouch hanging from his belt.

Gant’s eyes grew wide. “Well, in that case, you come right on in.” Opening the door wider, he stepped aside to welcome the travelers into his abode.

“I have little time to waste,” Josephus said. “How much do you want for your daughter?”

Gant cast another glance toward the money pouch. “One hundred fifty silver pieces.”

Camon nearly choked, but Josephus nudged him in the side to quiet him. He drew out the pouch and tossed it onto the table. It landed with a muffled jingle, tipped over and spilled several gold coins.

“You will find one hundred pieces of gold in there. That is thrice the value of your hundred and fifty silver pieces. Take that for your daughter and consider her no longer your own. You can never again lay claim to her nor use her to buy your own folly.”

With that, he exited the cottage, Camon at his heels.

As Camon shut the cottage door, Josephus pulled the peg from the debt notice on the doorpost. Folding the notice in half—thus doubling it—he said in a quiet voice, “Helena, you have received from the Lord’s hand double for all your sins.”

“What does that mean?” Camon asked.

“It means her debts are paid. The Rygian laws Demas explained to me are not too different from the laws in my own land. Once the note is doubled, or folded over like this, it is illegal to open it or remove it. Never again can anyone see what the debt was, but all can see it has been paid.”

He laid the folded notice against the doorpost and pushed the peg back into place. “Do you have the quill?”

Camon pulled the quill from his cloak and laid it in Josephus’ hand.

After scratching something on the paper, Josephus turned to Camon and said, “Tell no one what I have done here.”

“But Temanite gold pieces? That’s a lot of money. You know he’ll only waste it.”

“It matters not. The money was not for him, it was for her.”

* * *

Helena’s father scooped the golden coins into his hands and let them fall with a beautiful jingling sound onto the table. A knock on his door gave him a start. He shoved the coins back into the pouch and tossed the pouch behind a wash basin. Then he opened the door and found Orey Potter standing outside.

“What did those two men want?” Orey pointed in the direction the riders had gone.

“They came to buy my daughter,” Gant said proudly.

“Who was that man in the hood?”

“How should I know?”

Orey peered at the debt notice and squinted his eyes, trying to decipher the single word written there. “El-i-a-da,” he said slowly. “Eliada! Great stars! It’s the Teman king!”

“Can’t be,” Gant muttered, looking to see for himself. But when he thought about the amount of money sitting on his table, and the strange markings on the coins, and the fact that the strange man never revealed his appearance, Gant realized it must be true.

He growled as he reached for the paper. “I won’t have his name on my door!”

Orey grabbed Gant’s hand. “Ye can’t remove that notice. It’s illegal.”

“But everyone will see his name! Everyone will know who paid the debt!”

“I think that’s the point,” Orey said.

* * *

The next morning, Helena received a summons to come before the Temanite king. When she arrived and bowed before him, he said to her, “I have spoken to your father; he will seek you no longer.”

“But . . . but . . .” She hesitated, then blurted, “What about the debt?”

“I have paid your debt.”

Helena stood rooted to the spot as the realization dawned on her. Tears began to roll from her eyes. She lowered herself to her knees and said, “I am indentured to you forever. I will follow you and serve you wherever you go.”

“No, Helena. I did not release you from slavery just to make you a slave again. You are a free woman. But use your freedom to serve Eleonai, not me.”

“Then I shall go to Teman that I might serve your God.”

Josephus shook his head. “You can serve him better here in Rygia, where his light is yet dim.”

Helena grasped the king’s hand and kissed it. “I will. Thank you, Your Majesty. Thank you.”

In the Heart of a Princess: Chapter 30

2008-07-28T13:26:00.000-07:00

During the next several days, Bethany made good on her promise and took Squire Fox out to practice with his new bow. For targets they used anything they could find—old boots, kindling wood, bags of grain—nothing was safe. After several of the boy’s shots went wild and narrowly missed a hen, a window, and a stableboy, Philip ordered them to take the practice outside the manor gate.

As the two passed through the gate, Samuel called down from the watchtower, “Hey, Fox! Bet you can’t hit me!” When Paulus took aim upward, Samuel said, “Wait, let me get behind the bulwark.”

Bethany said, “I wouldn’t worry, Samuel. If he’s aiming at you, you’re pretty safe.”

“Thanks a lot,” Fox griped. Once again taking aim, he pulled his bowstring back. But the moment he released the arrow, Bethany gripped his arm. The arrow flew wild.

“Hey! That was your fault.”

But Bethany was not listening; she stood staring toward the north.

Fox followed her gaze and caught sight of a small group of riders headed their way.

Samuel also strained to see. “Who are they?”

“Rygian soldiers!” Fox ran inside to get the general.

* * *

Justus grabbed his long blue cloak and went out to meet the soldiers, Philip at his heels. Bethany and Fox remained just inside the gate, listening.

Councilman Drake pulled his horse to a halt in front of the general.

“Good day, Drake,” Justus greeted. “What can I do for you?”

Drake came right to business. “Word has reached us that you are harboring Temanite warriors in your manor. Is this true?” He glanced toward the soldiers in the watchtowers, his lip curled into a snarl.

“Yes, it’s true,” Justus answered. “After the attack by the Caledronians, I—"

“Why have you neglected to inform us?”

“I saw no reason to inform you. They are here for no other reason than to protect my people.”

“You fully understood you were not to bring Temanite warriors onto Rygian soil. That is considered an act of sedition.”

“This is no sedition, Drake. They’re not going anywhere, nor are they doing anything other than protecting my—”

“How long have they been here?”

“Not quite three months.”

“Three months! I’m sure you know you are in direct disobedience to the council.”

Justus crossed his arms. “What are you going to do about it?”

Drake frowned. “Unfortunately, Regent Vance refused to let us put you under arrest. But he could not refuse our doing this.” He thrust a rolled parchment toward the general.

Justus snatched the document from Drake’s hand.

“I can tell you what it says,” Drake said. “For every Temanite soldier you have on your premises, we shall place one Rygian soldier. That would be thirteen, I believe.”

“Twelve,” Justus corrected.

“Do not forget your wife’s bodyguard.”

“He was here from the beginning; you did not need a guard on him then.”

“Things are different now. If you are housing thirteen Temanite warriors, you will also house thirteen Rygian soldiers. If you refuse, we will have to take more serious measures. What will it be?”

Justus ran a hand through his hair. He did not like this one bit, but what could he do about it? He could not disobey the castle edict. He could go talk to Vance, but Vance was probably at the mercy of the council as well. At least he was not under arrest, thanks to Vance.

Drake added with a touch of victory in his voice, “Oh, and one more thing. You have been relieved of command of the Rygian army.”

“What!”

“The council feels as long as you choose to keep company with Temanites, your loyalties are too divided to give you a position of such importance.”

“You can’t do this!”

“We can and have. Be thankful you were allowed to remain living on this land. Unfortunately, since this village is in Vance’s territory, Vance can choose who runs it.”

At a wave of Drake’s hand, thirteen Rygian soldiers dismounted and led their horses through the gate. Justus knew each one of them—they were among the soldiers he was training as he worked at rebuilding the Rygian army. Not a one of them ever showed signs of being sympathetic toward Teman. Drake probably hand-picked these himself.

“This could be trouble,” Justus muttered to Philip. Catching sight of some of the soldiers gathering around Bethany, he said again, “This could be real trouble.”

“All right,” Justus called to the Rygian soldiers, who turned only half their attention to him. The other half they kept on Bethany. “These are the rules. You will not be permitted inside the manor house. Your quarters will be above the stables. The Temanite warriors will move into the house.”

One Rygian reached for Bethany’s hair. “Hey, honey, you gotta be the prettiest—”

In one bound, Justus grabbed the soldier by the shirt and threw him against the wall. “And no accosting the women! Is that understood?”

No one answered.

“Is that understood?” Justus shouted angrily.

“Yeah, yeah, Gen’ral,” one Rygian answered, “we hear ya. But ya gotta know this—we’re here under the council’s directive, not yours. We take our orders from them.”

Justus breathed hotly on the soldier’s face. “As long as you’re in my manor, you’ll take orders from me.”

“Sure, Gen’ral, whatever you say.”

Even though the Rygians were not directly accountable to General Corden, none of them dared to oppose the mightiest warrior in Rygia. They would behave themselves—when Corden was around.

The Temanite warriors moved their personal items into the manor house under the confused expressions of Princess Martiya and the others.

“But how could the council have discovered their presence here?” she asked. “My men never went anywhere outside the manor.”

“I know, Mari,” Justus said. “It may have been a traveling merchant. I’m going to Archella tomorrow to speak with Vance about this.”

Martiya’s eyes widened. “Will we be all right? I mean—the Rygians will not cause trouble while you are gone, will they?”

Justus laid a hand on her cheek. “There is one thing those men know, and that is I am better than all of them combined. They would not dare harm you or anything that belongs to us.”

“I hope you are right.”

* * *

The next day Justus headed for Archella, placing Philip in charge and leaving strict instructions to the women not to leave the manor house. The twelve Temanite warriors remained inside the house to watch the women.

Philip spent most of the day sitting on a bench on the portico just outside the door, sharpening his sword. A few of the Rygian soldiers milled about the courtyard, acquainting themselves with the layout of the manor. Two Rygians took posts in the watchtowers.

Near midday, Bethany and Fox stepped outside, bows slung over their shoulders.

“Where are you going?” Philip asked.

“Target practice,” Bethany answered.

“You shouldn’t be out here.”

Bethany rolled her eyes. “I can take care of myself, Philip.”

“I don’t care. You need an escort.”

She stopped in her tracks. “That’s exactly what Samuel said. He almost didn’t let me out the door. You know what I told him?”

“What?”

She pulled a dagger from her belt and pointed it at Philip’s face. “I can take care of myself.”

“I see.” Philip placed his finger on the tip of the sharp blade and gently pushed it aside. “Yes, I suppose you can. Well, I guess you do have Fox with you, so I’ll let you go.”

“Not that you had any choice, but thank you anyway.” She stepped off the portico, then wheeled about to face Philip again. “And you don’t have to follow me.”

Philip raised his hands in surrender.

As Bethany and Fox proceeded through the courtyard, Philip took note of where each Rygian was. Six remained in their quarters above the stables, probably asleep so they could take the night watch. Two were in the watchtowers. Three went into the cookhouse, most likely to pilfer something to eat.

Two more stopped their carousing as Bethany walked by. One nudged the other, then the two followed Bethany toward the gate.

Fox knew the two Rygians were following them, and he knew Bethany knew, but he waited to see what she would do about it. As he helped her open the gate, one of the two soldiers sprinted to catch up to them.

“Hey, pretty girl, where ya goin’ with that bow? Looking ta bring down a stag? I’m available!”

The other Rygian laughed.

Bethany stopped in her tracks. Fox stopped a few feet away from her, keeping one eye on her and the other on the Rygians. His fingers twitched on his bow.

The first Rygian sidled up to her. “Well, if you ain’t the prettiest girlie I ever did see. What’s yer name?”

She did not answer.

The second Rygian came to stand next to her. “Whatcha doin’ wearing pants, honey? That ain’t no attire fer a lady. And you sure look like a lady to me.”

Both Rygians were within arm’s reach of Bethany. Fox watched her eyes move from one to the other.

The first Rygian moved in. “Yeah, yer a lady all right. Wanna know what I like about ladies?”

In a lightning-quick move, Bethany thrust her long leg into one Rygian’s stomach, sending him to the ground. She shoved her elbow under the second Rygian’s chin and slammed him against the gate. In a flash, her dagger was in her hand and resting against his neck.

The man on the ground looked up only to see Fox glaring down a strung arrow pointed straight at his face. He did not move.

“I’ve wrestled with mountain lions,” Bethany said to the man she held at dagger point. “You don’t scare me.”

The Rygian laughed nervously. “You wouldn’t hurt me.”

“Hmm,” she said. “I never have killed a man, but at this moment I don’t think I’d have any trouble. So I suggest you and your friends just leave me alone.”

With that, she lowered her dagger and began to walk away.

The Rygian called after her, “Any time you’re interested, sweetie!”

Bethany whipped about and hurled her dagger. It embedded itself in the gate inches from his head. The Rygian stiffened, moving only his eyes to watch the dagger quiver in the wood.

Fox replaced his arrow and went to retrieve the dagger as Bethany continued on her way.

“Hah!” the Rygian said. “She missed.”

Yanking the dagger from the wood, Fox said, “She never misses.” When he caught up to Bethany, he could not restrain his laughter.

“Did you enjoy that, Fox?” she asked.

“Yeah! Let’s do that again!”

In the Shadow of Caledron: Chapter 25

2008-07-28T13:15:00.000-07:00

Justus Corden and his squire, Paulus the Fox, caught the attention of many people as they rode into Rygia’s royal city of Archella—especially Paulus. Heads turned to gape at the golden shield hanging from his saddle, the shimmering golden cloak draped across his back, and the leather scabbard hanging on his left side, trimmed with intricate gold. Squire Fox’s beautiful black pony, Goliath, stepped lively at the side of the general’s huge destrier, Caesar.

Justus wore his blue cloak emblazoned with a black eagle regardless that he was relieved of command of the Rygian army. The blue shield hanging from his saddle bore an identical emblem, the symbol of the king’s highest commander. Justus knew the only people who might argue his right to wear the black eagle were councilmen, and he did not care what they might say about it—he would not be in Rygia long.

“What happens if the council still refuses to let Teman pay the debt to Caledron?” Paulus asked as their horses plodded the dirt road.

“Then there’s nothing more we can do for our people. At least not at this time.”

“You mean we’ll just let Caledron move in and take control?”

“How can we stop them?”

“I bet the Temanite army could stop them.”

“Josephus and I have been through that already.” Justus said. “If the Rygians don’t want Teman’s help, we can’t force ourselves upon them. If the Temanite army came to fight for Rygia, they would face Caledron at their front and Rygia at their back.”

“You really think Rygia would join with Caledron against Teman?”

“Yes, I do. From what I’ve heard, most Rygians welcome Caledron.”

“But why?”

“Caledron’s ways are more suitable to them than Teman’s, I guess.”

The conversation stopped as the two approached the castle and passed under the great portcullis at the gate. Justus noted how different the place felt—colder somehow, like a deep, dark winter was about to set in.

And it was only May.

“Would you look at that? Just who do you think you are, mouse? The king of Teman?”

Justus turned to see who was addressing his squire in that manner. First he saw Abez—a boy Paulus’ age who, he had learned, caused Paulus no little grief in years gone by. But almost immediately his attention was drawn toward the young man standing next to Abez—Abez’s older brother, Squire Nabal.

He scowled. The last time he saw Nabal was at his own manor in Averill. Shortly after that, Councilman Drake came to post a Rygian guard at his manor and take the command of the Rygian army away from him. The connection had not been lost on Justus.

“Hey, I’m talkin’ to you, mouse!”

Justus returned his attention to Abez. He surmised the boy had become a squire due to the wooden sword stuck in his belt. Abez’s eyes were pasted on Paulus—especially on the magnificent black pony Paulus rode. Then the boy’s eyes moved to the sword hanging at Paulus’ left side.

“You? A squire? You don’t look like no Rygian squire to me.”

Paulus did not seem shaken. He pulled his sword from its sheath and pointed it at Abez’s rotund belly. “I see you’ve advanced to a wooden sword. Care to try it against mine?”

Justus smiled. Abez flushed.

Paulus jumped from Goliath’s back and stood before Abez, sword at the ready. At fourteen years of age, Paulus was small compared to other squires, but his tenacity more than made up for it.

“Come on, have at me!” he said. “You insulted me, now defend your words or take them back.”

Abez’ hand hovered over his paltry weapon. “But . . .”

“But what? Are you a coward?”

“But it wouldn’t be fair!”

Justus dismounted and sidled up to his squire, looking the two boys over. “You know, Fox, Abez is right. This is quite unfair.”

Paulus turned a puzzled expression toward the general.

“This boy must be twice your size,” Justus noted quite accurately. “You’re at a definite disadvantage. Would you like me to assist you?”

A smile crossed Paulus’ face. “I’ll chance it, General. Now, Abez, draw your weapon!”

Abez tossed a helpless glance toward his brother, but Nabal only said, “You insulted him, now back it up.”

Abez pulled his wooden sword from his belt.

Paulus took his stance. His blue eyes narrowed. The moment the wooden sword was raised in his direction, he swung his sharp, steel blade and knocked the wooden sword away. Again Abez made a half-hearted swipe, but Paulus slapped that away as well. With the next swipe, Paulus cut down sharply. His blade embedded itself in the wood.

“Hey!” Abez said.

With his next swing, Paulus wrenched the wooden sword from Abez’ hand and shook it off his own blade. He picked it up and pointed both swords toward Abez.

“That’s not fair!” Abez said.

“Shut up!” Nabal said. “Just shut up!”

Abez watched Paulus walk away. At one point, Paulus turned and tossed the wooden sword back to him, a smug smile on his face.

Abez seethed. “That boy’s blood is mine.”

Nabal’s eyes were on Justus. “Just wait. We’ll get our chance . . . at both of them.”

On the Throne of Rygia: Chapter 13

2008-07-28T13:00:00.000-07:00

Natty made her way across the deck of the Estrella, a long, coiled rope in hand. The little ship pitched in the waves, but the rocking did not interrupt her stride. Upon reaching the water barrel lashed to the mast, she removed the worn rope and tied the new rope tightly around it, making sure the barrel was secure.

That done, she lifted the lid and peered inside. The water was low, but it did not matter. She knew the ship was going nowhere. The most sailing the Estrella had done over the last seven years was as a courier between King Alton and Baron Gregor to deliver messages and royalty payments.

“Better fill that water barrel,” she heard her father’s voice say. She turned to see him descending from the aft deck.

“Whatever for?” she asked.

“One never knows.”

“What about the barrels below deck? Aren’t they full?”

“I’ll go check.” Lemuel pointed toward a tangle of rope that had come uncoiled amid the rolling of the ship. “Fix that, girl. Can’t have an untidy ship.”

“Aye, aye, sir.”

As Lemuel opened the hatch and climbed below, Natty set herself to her task. Lifting the heavy, oiled rope, she began to lay it out in a neat circle.

While she worked, an odd, almost indiscernible sound on the outer hull took her attention. It came from the direction of the anchor cable which ran through the hawsehole near her feet. She crouched low and leaned against the bulwark, keeping her eye on the hawsehole.

The anchor cable shifted slightly. She watched a hand grasp it. Then a foot was placed in the hole, and a hand gripped the rim above it. The hand became two hands, then an arm, a leg, and finally the drenched body of a young Rygian man crawled over the bulwark.

Natty gave him no chance to gain his feet. Grasping one of his arms, she yanked him over the side, pulling him onto the deck. He landed on his side, letting out an “Oof!”

Immediately she pulled both daggers from her belt and held them at the ready. “Just what do you think you’re doing?”

Laying in a puddle on the deck, Fox squinted at the young maiden with a dagger in each hand. He might have mistaken her for a boy for the pants she wore, but her two braids and the curly wisps framing her dainty face told him otherwise.

“You looking to steal something?” the girl said, a determined glint in her eye.

“I’m no thief. I’m looking for Captain Lemuel.” Fox found his feet and pulled himself up. He shook his head, spraying water all around. The puddles from his dripping clothes ran across the deck as the ship listed again.

The girl maintained her stance. “Why not climb the ladder like everyone else?”

“I didn’t want the Caledronians to see me.”

Those words softened her expression. “What do you want the captain for?”

“That’s none of your business. What’s a girl doing on his ship, anyway?”

“Where have you been?” she said as though he ought to know who she was.

Fox’s eyes fell to the daggers that circled too close to his mid-section. “Look, I don’t have a lot of time. I need to talk to Lemuel. Where is he?”

The girl studied his face. Fox figured she must have thought he was trustworthy, for she lowered her blades. Just then a wave lifted the Estrella, tilting the ship and sending him tumbling into her. Her daggers clattered across the deck as the two rolled into the ship’s side.

“Well, you’re certainly not a sailor,” she said. “You don’t have any sea legs.”

Fox frowned. Just because his training in Teman the last seven years did not include sea voyages did not give her license to mock him. “Shut up! Sheesh, I hate girls!”

“Oh yeah?” She jumped to her feet and put her hands on her hips. “Well I don’t like boys, either!”

“Why not?” Fox stood up and managed to keep his feet through another tossing of the ship.

She frowned. “Father wanted a boy.”

“I don’t blame him.”

At those words, the girl’s face reddened. She drew back and landed a fist square across his jaw. Fox found himself sprawled out on the deck for the third time, his hindquarters hitting the wood hard. When he recovered himself, he looked at her with surprise seasoned with a pinch of admiration.

“Hey, that was pretty good.” He rubbed his sore chin and flexed his jaw in all directions to make sure everything was still in working order. “That was really good. What’s your name?”

She put her hands on her hips. “Natty. What’s yours?”

“Fox.”

A frown crossed her face. She ran her eyes up and down his small frame, then she wrinkled her nose and retorted, “You’re not the Fox.”

Fox picked himself up, muttering, “That’s a girl for ya.”

A fire blazed in her eyes. Once again she hauled back to punch him, but as she swung, he ducked. At the same time the Estrella pitched again. Her swing put her off balance, sending her into his arms. Both hit the deck hard.

“Hey, get off me!” Fox shoved her away. “Who doesn’t have their sea legs now?”

“Who asked you?” she snapped, her cheeks flushing.

A voice from the hatch drew their attention. “What’s going on up there?” Captain Lemuel peeked his head through the square opening in the deck. He narrowed his eyes at the strange, drippy young man. “Who’s up there? You all right, Natty?”

“I’m fine, Father.” She pointed to the newcomer. “This man claims to be the Fox.”

Lemuel’s eyes grew wide. He scrambled onto the deck and trotted toward them. “Could it be? By all the waves of the seven seas, it is you!” He threw his stubby arms around the wet knight, then held him at arm’s length. “Look at you! You’ve grown up! But that’s the same face, there’s no doubt.”

“It’s good to see you, Captain.” Fox cast a self-satisfied glance to Natty, whose mouth hung open.

“Are . . . are you . . . really the Fox?” she asked.

“Course this is the Fox, girl!” Lemuel said. “After all the stories you heard, you ought to recognize him when you see him.”

“I thought he’d be taller,” she answered sheepishly.

Fox just rolled his eyes.

Lemuel’s countenance became serious. “I’m sure you didn’t come here after nearly seven years just to pay us a social call. What brings you back from Teman?”

“Is it safe to talk here?”

“Safe as anywhere. This wind is creating a lot of noise and will keep our voices from being carried too far. What news do you bring?”

“It’s time,” Fox said. “General Corden and the Temanite army are about to attack the Caledronians, drive them out, and put Prince Malchus on the throne.”

“To be sure? When? How?”

“Soon. They’ll be hitting from all fronts—that’s what I’m here to tell you. We need Gregor Godfrey in on this. He promised General Corden he would help.”

“Oh yes, Gregor is anxious for this,” Lemuel said.

“Good. Take this message to him: hit Archella from the north when Corden arrives with his forces from the south. The target date to take the castle is June nineteenth.”

“That’s just ten days from now.” Lemuel stroked his pointy golden beard. “That’s a tall order you’re giving me. The moment I leave the harbor without authorization, I’ll be followed by one of those dromonds and shot to bits.”

Fox shook his head. “You won’t be followed.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“There won’t be any dromonds left when I’m through here.”

At those words, Lemuel’s mouth as well as Natty’s hung open.

“What are you going to do?” Natty asked.

“When night falls, I’m going to destroy them. Once the commotion starts, they won’t have time to think about you. You’ll have the cover of night as well as the distraction. You can sail on a moonless night, can’t you?”

“Of course! I know these waters like my own hand. But you . . . Do you know what you’re doing? It’s a suicide mission.”

Fox passed it off with a shrug. “You just get that message to Gregor. We need his forces if we’re to succeed.”

“I’ll get there, don’t you worry.”

“One other thing, Captain.”

“What’s that?”

Fox said, “I would prefer no one knows the Fox is back. Last time the Fox was in Rygia, there was a price on his head. If you would call me by my given name, I’d appreciate it.”

“What is your given name?” Natty asked.

“Paulus.”

Lemuel nodded, then looked across the sky. “It’ll be dark soon, we better get ready. Natty, get the men—just Milo, Benny, Louie, and Robert. Don’t tell them what we’re doing, I’ll explain it when they’re all aboard. Just tell them it’s important.”

“Yes, Father.” Natty turned to go.

Lemuel stopped her. “And Natty, then go tell your mother what’s happening. Tell her to take the family to her sister’s home. And you go with them.”

“But, Father—”

“Don’t argue with me. I don’t want to see you back here. This’ll be no place for a girl.”

Fox could hear her mutter her disagreement as she headed for the rope ladder.