Hope Victorious - Part One

(Note: This is meant to be read after Hope Victorious- Prologue)

March 543

“My Lord, everything is in place. Your followers are ready to fight.”
Turning from the cold stone wall of the cave, Ciaran looked at Donal. “It is not time yet. Just wait.”
Donal bowed and left the cave, going out into the mountains. Ciaran had chosen a large clump of caves for his hideaway, high in the mountains they could do as they pleased unnoticed. And that was exactly what they had been doing. Ciaran planned to take over Stargonia and eventually the whole of Edaled, but things would take time. The first place to reach would be Ithieal, that was where the king was – usurp the throne, then get the people on his side. After that, it would be easy. With all of Stargonia for him, it would not be too long before Olandern was his, then Byshan, Ladylan, Cathonys… and the other nine kingdoms of Edaled.
Something in his mind nagged him, though: the story of Weylin told in the history books of all of Edaled. Weylin had dominated Edaled, and the people had tried to throw off his grip but had not succeeded. This part made him glad – with the whole of Edaled under his rule, there would be many people to follow him and he could easily keep peace. But a tyrranical reign was not the end of Weylin’s story. The Creator, who many call God or Lord, sent a man, a stranger whom nobody knew. Prophets in many cities had foretold the coming of this man, and Weylin was terrified – this man would be the one to kill him, overthrow his kingdom, and who knows what would happen then.
Ciaran was worried it would happen once more. The Creator was all-powerful, and although Ciaran did not follow him like most of Edaled, he still feared the power the Creator had. Ciaran also was afraid of the people. Many knew he planned to usurp the throne and had begun making plans to overthrow him, or at least have an system to help those Ciaran was trying to get rid of. This system would have to be crushed, but first he would take over, and there was still some time until then.
In that time, there was much to be done. Final touches to his plans had to be made, the weapons had to be forged for the latest group of his followers, and he would like livery for his men as well, so all would know who he was and that he meant business. The people of Stargonia would fear him, and Stargonia would be his, after many years of impatient planning and waiting.
Pleased with his strategy, Ciaran nodded and then went out into the mountains to visit his men. He wanted them to know he cared for them, what they didn’t need to know was that he cared for them as a whole, not individually. His army would be the strongest, most disciplined army Edaled had ever seen. He almost felt sorry for the King, there was such a small army to defend him and Ithieal, and not much of an army elsewhere. Even if there was another army in existance, it was definitely not as well trained as his. Ciaran’s soldiers spent hours each day preparing for battle – running, dueling, climbing, anything to increase their strength and endurance.
Stargonia would pay for his history, they would pay for when he had been outlawed and sent to live in the forest. He had not gone, of course, instead he had slipped away and went to the caves to hide. Donal had followed him and become his right hand man. He had not really been a criminal when he was outlawed, it was someone else who had been plotting against the King and Ciaran had been blamed. Now, however, it was him plotting against the king, and there was nothing anyone could do about it.

The peope of Stargonia knew something was up, though, and they were starting to do something about it. Under the leadership of a man in Dalentia, a series of underground tunnels began to be planned. Before the month was out, they had moved into the digging stage, and able-bodied men and boys worked in shifts to dig the tunnels. Word was passed along to the other cities, and they received the plans for the tunnels.
Meanwhile, Ciaran continued to gather men and forge arms for his army. He managed to outfit most of them with plain black tunics, and he had a flag made, green with the head of a wolf on it. There was something most people did not know about Ciaran – he was a werewolf, a man by day and a wolf by night. He needed very little sleep, and often wandered about during the night, searching for troops, supplies, or even wolves – he wanted all the help he could get for his attack. Thinking ahead, the cities of Stargonia would need troops there until he had them fully subdued, which would not take too long, he had many ways to dispose of those who opposed him in anyway. Yes, he would make them pay. He was no outlaw until they had made him one – he had been a loyal subject of the king. A loyal subject of the king who would soon be king. It was almost ironic.

There were no winter celebrations that year.
Ciaran struck hard a week before the festivities would normally begin, and silenced the joy.

February 544

Outside the castle, in a small barn in the city of Itheial, a small girl and her brother hid in the hay.
“Where’s mama?” She whispered.
“Shhhh…” Her brother said. They heard footsteps a few feet away from them, and the girl stifled a gasp. The boy put his hand over her mouth, and neither dared to move.
More clunking footsteps, then voices.
“It doesn’t look like they’re in here anywhere.”
“They could be in the hay.”
The hay near the boy’s head moved. “It’s too shallow for anyone to hide in here, even anyone of their size.”
“Aye.”
As the men walked away, the boy let go of his sister. “C’mon, R’ina, we’ve got to get out of here. Get on my back.”
The girl pushed her strawberry-blonde hair out of her blue eyes, then quickly clambered onto her brother’s back. He poked his head out of the straw, glancing around before going any farther.
“It’s clear,” he breathed. He broke into a run, dashing out of the barn and around the corner towards a field.
“There they go!” A soldier shouted. The boy glanced over his shoulder, and his sister slipped off of his back and took his hand. They ran to the field, and as they neared it, he pushed her down in front of him. Something scratched at his back, and all went black.
The soldier stood and wiped his dagger off, pleased with what he had accomplished. “He’s dead, Cap’n, All taken care of.”
The Captain nodded, then turned to his men. “Our job is done. It’s time to go back to the castle.” He brushed a few grains of wheat off of his boot, then put away his weapons. The soldiers did not notice a rustle in the field. If they did, they passed it off as a gentle breeze. But it was more than that.

Ciaran studied a map, tracing his finger over the river.
“The Rom usually camp around here. It’s far enough from the forest to be safe from the Keltoi, and they have access to water. Derek, I want you to take your men here and search the area. I want no Rom left alive, they’re too free and hard to control. Understand?”
“Aye, Highness. We’ll not return until we can’t find any more.” Derek bowed and left the room, running down to the courtyard, and into the first barracks on his left. “Men!” He shouted, and the soldiers in the building dropped whatever they were doing and stood to attention. “Get your things together, we leave in an hour for river Tharia. Ciaran wants the Rom out of Stargonia.”
Derek turned on his heel and left the barracks, hurrying to his quarters in the next building. He opened a drawer in his dresser and took out his chainmail and jerkin. Taking off his tunic, he pulled on the jerkin, followed by chainmail. He grabbed one last thing from the drawer, his plain black uniform tunic. Derek placed his helmet – a round, bowl-like piece of metal – on his head, then buckled his sword belt around his waist. The empty scabbard hung at his side, and he took his sword out from under his cot and sheathed it.
An hour later, he was marching at the head of his men. They marched until nightfall, then made camp. It was no more than five days later when they reached the river. Derek commanded his men to split up and search the riverbanks for any signs of the Rom. If they found any of the gypsies, they were to kill them immediately. Derek himself took five men with him and they ran ahead of all the others upstream. They moved quietly, wanting to ambush on any Rom there might be nearby. Before long, they heard faint voices.
“Gillie, take that pan there, would you? Pass it on to Tawnee, she needs it for dinner.”
A small boy with thick black hair and matching eyes stepped out from behind a bright red wagon, carrying a large pan. He wore a faded red vest, a white shirt, and loose black trousers. Somewhere in the large gypsy camp someone played the fiddle, and someone else was singing. The jangle of bells told the soldiers that someone was dancing.
Derek gave the signal to his men, and they closed in on the camp. Derek ran into the center of the camp, drawing his sword and grabbing Gillie as he passed. Derek put the sword to the boy’s neck.
“Everyone get around the wagon.” Derek shouted. The music stopped immediately , and gypsies began moving toward the wagon, slowly and silently, almost trance-like. “Ciaran has ordered for all the Rom to be killed. However – I will give you a week to get out of Stargonia.” Derek sheathed his sword. “I only work for Ciaran because my father is one of Ciaran’s advisors. These men are in similar situations. If you will leave Stargonia, we’ll be coming with you, but we must move quickly, before the rest of my men catch up.”
The gypsies immediately began to pack up camp, and they did it faster than Derek imagined they could, and within a few minutes they were on the run. The Rom knew that the mountains were up ahead, but Derek assured them that there was a bridge they could cross over not far away, and they could change directions and go over the border into Byshan before anyone caught up with them.

“You’re telling me that one of my Captains, Derek, my most trusted captain to say the least, left you and the other men wandering near the river Tharia and ran off with the gypsies?”
“Aye, Highness. We followed them to the border, but we weren’t able to catch up with them...” He trailed off as Ciaran became visibly angry.
“I won’t take any excuses, Corporal. Either you caught them, or you let them go. Since you didn’t catch them, I’m afraid you’ll have to leave.”
“You mean…?”
“Yes, I mean you’re no longer in my army. Go!” Ciaran was shouting now, and the Corporal shrank back in fear, then bowing, he turned to leave. As the corporal left, a spy from Dalenia rushed in, panting. He bowed as he entered the room, then approached Ciaran.
“Your highness, we have news from Dalentia.”
“Go on.”
“The rebels there… they are planning to rebel.”
“Thank you for bringing that news, good sir,” Ciaran said sarcastically. Then he whirled on the spy, grabbing his shirt collar and pinning him up against the wall. “But let me guess – you left before you found out more, like last time.”
The spy struggled to breathe. “Highness, I know when… they plan… to attack…”
Ciaran loosened his grip, though only a little. “Alright then, when?”
“They’re leaving Dalentia in a week’s time.”
“Anything else?”
“No, your highness.”
Ciaran released the spy. “Go back to Dalentia. Take with you one hundred of my men. I want Dalentia conquered before anyone sets foot outside of the walls. Once it’s under control, I want you to build a barracks there. Dalentia will no longer give us any trouble as long as I am in control.”
“Yes, Highness.”

Platoons of Ciaran’s men marched to Dalentia. The gatekeeper heard them before they reached the gate, and began to crank it open, knowing what would happen if he didn’t. Not bothering to thank the gatekeeper, they marched past, into the city. The spy began giving out orders.
Inside a small house, a curtain moved.
“Someone has betrayed us,” a man said.
A group of men jumped to their feet, grabbing their sword belts.
“We’ll have to fight them. There’s no other way.”
“We have no chance against them, are you sure it’s wise?”
“If we defend ourselves, we’ll give our wives and children time to escape. Maybe they can go into Trennor forest or make it across the border before anyone gets to them.”
“It’s the only chance they’ll have,” someone added.
“Aye. Timothy, go ring the alarm bell.”
“Yessir!”
A young boy, maybe eight years old, ran out the back door of the house and made his way to the bell tower. A soldier saw him running, and began to chase after him. Timothy glanced over his shoulder and pressed on.
“I’ve got… to make it…” He said under his breath, trying to go faster. Then it was into the tower, and up, up, up the stairs to the bell. He jumped onto the rope, ringing it once. Bong. The soldier was almost up the stairs. The bell for a second time. Bong. The soldier was at the top. Bong. The soldier reached out to grab Timothy, but the boy slid down the rope, ringing the bell one last time. Bong! Enraged, the soldier slashed the rope, and the bell fell, clanging for the final time. BONG! Timothy was caught under the bell, and the soldier ran down the stairs to the bell. Using his sword as a lever, he pulled Timothy out, then grabbed the boy and dragged him out to the town square. The other soldiers had started storming houses, killing people, both rebels and not. All over the city, screams were heard, from mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters… The soldiers showed no mercy, slaying anyone that got in their way. Timothy watched all this in horror, trying to break free from his captor. He prayed that most of the women and children had ran out of the city when the bell rang, and that they were on their way to safety. He knew that was not likely, but if even some escaped he would know his mission had been accomplished. Timothy saw a blade coming at him, and then everything went black.
It was dark when the city quieted down, and shrieks and wails were still heard. A small boy cried in the streets, sitting with a broken body in his arms. A cloaked woman picked him up and held him, then carried him inside the inn.
The surviving men and boys were commanded to build a garrison for the soldiers, and though they did so, none wanted to. When the sun rose the next morning, they began to clean up Dalentia.
After a few weeks under Ciaran’s rule, the Dalentians settled into a routine, and all the survivors became rebels after what they had witnessed. The evil of Ciaran was ever-present in the city, and fear lived in the hearts of many, but there was still hope. The tunnels they had dug when Ciaran first began to take over Stargonia were now being used, and the rebels seemed to speak their own language, a simple “How do you do?” could mean “meeting tonight in the bell tower” or “Ciaran is sending more men.” The soldiers knew the rebels were still around in Dalentia, but they also knew they would not dare try anything while soldiers were posted at every corner, watching everything that happened… or so they thought.

July 552 – Eight years later

His sister’s cry had awakened him that night. If she hadn’t, he would have lost her – the only person he had. Nathan snapped out of his thoughts and rolled over, getting to his feet. Anya, his younger sister, slept nearby, murmuring something about cats chasing birds. Smiling briefly, Nathan stirred the dying embers of the fire with his makeshift poker, and then added more wood. When he was sure the fire was stable, Nathan jogged to the crest of the hill they had journeyed over the night before. Blue eyes flecked with green and hazel, scanned the ground below as the wind blew his shaggy, dirty blonde hair about. Lips pressed tight in frustration and jaw set hard, he shook his hair out of his face and continued his search. His hands lay limp down at his sides, and he stood with his long legs spread a foot-length apart. Nathan’s broad shoulders rose and fell as he caught his breath, and then he began to move cautiously down the other side of the hill from where he could see the ashes of Bywyn.
The previous evening, raiders had come through the town, taking captive all they could and burning the wooden houses to the ground. Anya had woken, crying, in the middle of the night, waking Nathan. His first reaction was to bring Anya into bed with him, but when he heard screams and shouts outside he had scooped Anya up in his arms instead. Kicking open the back door, he took one last glance behind him, and quickly grabbed a burlap sack containing some food and his few possessions. Not knowing exactly where to go, he ran into the foothills, silently praying they were not being followed. Now Nathan was forced to make a decision that would affect both of them, possibly for the rest of their lives. In addition to this, Nathan did not want to stop his search for his younger sister. Technically, Anya was not his sister Nathan had found her wandering outside of Bywyn a few years before and since then he had taken care of her and been like her older brother. Somewhere in Stargonia or one of the neighboring kingdoms, his real sister lived, hiding from the same things he was, living in secrecy and safety from Ciaran and his men.
Down below, Anya stirred. “Nathan?” She called, terror rising in her voice.
Nathan turned and ran down the hill. “It’s alright, Anya, I’m right here,” Nathan said.
“I thought you were gone. I thought they’d gotten you.” Anya’s big, hazel eyes began to fill with tears. Nathan hugged her, stroking her straight, light brown hair. Anya drew closer to him, not wanting him to go anywhere away from her. Nathan kissed the top of her head and held her away from him to look her in the eye.
“I’d never let them do that. Come on, let’s eat some breakfast and get going.” Rummaging around in the burlap sack, Nathan pulled out two apples. As he handed one to Anya, he was thankful that he had been able to grab the bag before they left Bywyn. “Will you thank the God for our food?” He asked.
Anya took the apple and bowed her head. “Dear God, thank you that Nate and I escaped the raiders. Bless this food and help us to find a safe place to stay. In Your name, Amen.”
“Amen,” Nathan echoed, biting into his apple. “Eat quickly. I know where we’ll be safe, and we should leave as soon as possible.” And hopefully get there as soon as possible. Nathan added in his mind, not wanting Anya to know the danger they could be in at the moment. He knew why the raiders had attacked Bywyn he knew what they were after and who they really were. The raiders were Ciaran’s men, and they were after him. He shuddered as he thought about that night, nine long years ago. Closing his eyes, he moved his hand to the back of his neck and ran his finger along the scar that he had gotten that night.
“Nathan Take your sister and go” Nathan grabbed his sister’s hand and began to run. Her short legs had trouble keeping up with Nathan, but he kept moving onwards, as he knew from his mother’s tone of voice that this situation could kill them all if they did not run. Seeing the barn up ahead, he dashed inside and dove into the hay, his sister right behind him. They heard boots nearby, and then voices. As soon as they were gone, she climbed onto his back and they ran out of the barn. Suddenly a soldier appeared in front of them, and Nathan skidded to a stop, turning to go the other way. As he turned, he saw one of the enemy charge at his mother and run his sword through her. Nathan screamed and began to rush towards her, but then stopped, realizing he was heading straight into danger. His sister noticed this, too, and they turned to run the other way when a foot soldier began to run after them. Unsure of what to do, Nathan pushed his sister ahead of him into a wheat field outside of the farm where they were hiding. As Nathan dove into the field, he felt something sharp scratch the back of his neck and he blacked out.
Anya tugged on Nathan’s sleeve and brought him back to the present. “How long will it take us to get where we’re going?” She bit into her apple, chewing thoughtfully as she watched Nathan intently.

“A while - possibly a week or more. When we get there, though, we will be safe at last.” Safe at last, the words echoed in his mind. Nathan sighed happily at the thought. He took one last bite of his apple, and then buried the core. Tossing dirt onto the fire to extinguish it, he watched silently as the flames died out. He pushed the remainder of the bad memories into the back of his head, not wanting them to overwhelm him as they so often did. Anya finished eating her apple, dug a hole in the ground, and buried her apple. She stood up and Nathan grabbed his sack, then he motioned to Anya and began walking away from Bywyn. Anya followed him, humming and sometimes singing quietly as they went along, happy to be out and about.
They traveled into the foothills all morning, Nathan telling Anya stories farmers had told him, and Anya listening intently. By mid-afternoon, Anya was tiring and was having trouble keeping up with Nathan.
“Nate, I’m tired.” She sighed, looking up at him.
“Want me to carry you?” Nathan offered, stopping to turn around and look at her.
“I don’t want to tire you.”
“You won’t, don’t worry. Here, climb onto my back.” Nathan bent down to help Anya onto his back, and then broke into a run. As he ran, the cool mountain air blew on his face, and from time to time he sang softly to himself. By nightfall, the two were high up in the mountains and they could feel a change in the air. Anya fell asleep, her head resting on Nathan’s shoulder. Nathan continued onward, slowing a little as the stars came out. Shivering slightly, Nathan laid Anya down on the ground and put his cloak around his shoulders, then picked up Anya again, carrying her farther up and in. Anya woke as the sun was rising, and then they stopped for a light meal.
“Anya, we will have to travel quickly today. I’m going to carry you all of today. It will be necessary to travel on through the night again, and sleep in the morning when it’s warmer.”
“Yes Nathan.” Anya clambered back onto Nathan’s back, and Nathan set off at a slow but steady pace. The day was fair, with the sun shining down on them through a few clouds. Nathan and Anya took in all the beautiful mountain scenery, dotted with trees here and there. Anya enjoyed watching the forest animals playing out in the open and the birds flitting from tree to tree. By dawn the next morning, they had made fair progress and were well into the mountains. Exhausted, Nathan stopped and set Anya down and together they started a fire and ate, then Nathan lay down to sleep while Anya kept watch. She watched him as he slept peacefully, every now and then his nose twitching. Anya giggled when it did, and as she sat cross-legged on the ground, she played with pieces of grass and twigs, making faerie houses out of them. Nathan woke as the sun was setting, and after a chunk of bread and cheese each, they set off again. Near mid-afternoon the next day, they had reached the convent near the middle of the mountains. The convent’s walls rose high up out of the mountains. The walls were constructed with large rocks cut out of the mountains and inside a steeple rose out of the center. Nathan set Anya down on her feet near the front gate, and put his hand gently on her shoulder.
“I’m going to leave you at the Convent, Anya. You’ll be safe here.”
“I want to go with you, Nate. Please don’t leave me here What if the raiders decide to come here, too, Nathan? What if they get me?”
Nathan heard the undeniable fear in her voice, and when he looked into her eyes, he knew how she felt. He remembered how scared he had been those nights when he was a boy, running from Ciaran’s men.
The darkness closed around him as he ran, trees seemed to come alive and tear at his clothing… He had thought they thought he was dead… he had thought so as well. How they found out he was alive, he didn’t know, and that didn’t really matter. All that mattered was that he was running again, he was alone, and he was afraid. R’ina was safe, hidden away where no one would think to look for a princess, but he was still running from Ciaran’s men.
And he was terrified.
Nathan couldn’t let Anya go through the same things he had, especially when she was so young. He closed his eyes to shut out the memories and then sighed. “You’re right. I can’t leave you here. But we’ll stop here for food and shelter.” He rapped loudly on the thick wooden door. A small window opened and a nun peered out.
“How may I help you?”
“We’re travelers, madam, seeking lodging and food for our journey,” Nathan explained, gently taking Anya’s hand.
“Lodging, in the middle of the day?” The nun asked, bewildered.
“Aye, madam. We found it easier, and perhaps wiser considering the weather, to travel at night. We will only be here until dusk, and then we’ll go. We’d also like food for the remainder of our journey.”
“Come in.” The nun unbolted the gate and Nathan and Anya followed her in, as she led them up a few flights of stairs and into a small room. The room was only about ten by eleven feet big, with two cots on the floor and a small dresser and wardrobe.
“You may stay here, and before you leave we will provide you with the food you will for your journey.”
“Thank you, madam. We are traveling to Agranthea, however many days that will take I do not know.”
“I will see what we can do.” The nun closed the door behind her and silently went down the stairs.

Nathan sat down on a cot in the middle of the room, and took off his boots, followed by his cloak. Anya lay down on a second cot and soon was fast asleep. Nathan lay awake for a while before drifting off to sleep. Shortly before dusk, a sharp knock sounded, waking Anya. Quietly, Anya walked across the floor and opened the door.
“It’s almost dusk – the mother wanted me to tell you.” A young novice said, and set down a knapsack. “This is enough food for your journey – May God protect you and go with you.”
Nathan rolled over in bed, a sign he was beginning to wake up.
“Thank you, ma’m.” Anya replied, taking the food and setting it inside the room, then closing the door. Nathan sat up in bed.
“Sleepyhead.” Anya teased.
“Hey” Nathan returned, “I haven’t gotten much sleep lately.” He got to his feet, stretching slightly. “Anyway, it’s time to get going.” Nathan put the bag of food into his own knapsack, tied on his boots and grabbed his cloak.
Anya followed him out of the room, and after a quick word of thanks to the nuns, they left the convent and continued their journey through the mountains.
The following two days the travel went smoothly, going down the mountains was easier than going up, and Anya enjoyed stopping by streams and playing by the water while Nathan rested or they ate.
Less than three days later, Nathan and Anya had reached the edge of Lake Tharia. Here Nathan was faced with another decision: to go by foot around the lake, or to make a boat and cross over the water. Coming to a stop near the edge of the lake, Nathan explained to Anya that he needed to search for supplies, but would be back shortly. He ran a short distance away from the lake, but could find no sufficient supplies to use – trees, wood, or anything that was hard, flat, and would float. The land around the lake was fertile farming land for the most part, but the lake flooded unpredictably so no one planted anything near it. Coming back to Anya, Nathan set about making a fire.
“Now that we’re out of the mountains,” he told Anya, “it’s safe to sleep at night – we won’t get so cold.”
Anya rummaged through the food the nuns had given them, pulling out a loaf of bread and a large hunk of cheese. Nathan took out his knife and sliced the bread and cheese.
“Eat your fill – we have enough that we don’t have to ration it.”
Anya grinned. Nathan smiled back at her, and then bent his head to say grace. After he did so, both travelers ate until they were full. Anya lay down to sleep near the fire, resting her head on a small pile of leaves. Nathan kept watch close by, softly singing under his breath. His eyes watched the gentle waves lapping at the sand on the beach. A cool sea breeze blew, and Nathan shivered. It was all he could do not to fall asleep to the peaceful sounds all around him – Anya’s gentle breathing, the crackling of the fire, and the waves on the beach even a few crickets chirping. Nathan sighed. He missed home, if he could call anywhere home – he was more of a wanderer than anything else. Nathan had been an orphan since he was eight and for those nine years since he was on his own, doing farm work wherever he could, until he had found Anya, that is. It had helped to have a companion, even if that companion was twelve years younger than he was. Not that he minded – he loved children, and at least they both had someone now.
The farm work he had done had made him strong, and he had been able to learn much from the different farmers he worked for – reading, writing, logic, reasoning, anything he needed to know, and more. Many times, he stayed at one farm for a whole year, only a few times only for harvest or planting. Nathan was glad he had had that experience, and one of the farmers had led him to his faith in the Creator, which was the biggest change in his life.
As a hint of the new day dawning appeared over the horizon, Nathan lay down and slept. The few hours of sleep that he managed to get were restless and filled with dreams of things from his past. Many were of good times, but the last was of his mother’s death, soon after which his father disappeared. Nathan woke with a start, sitting up to find Anya awake and watching him curiously. The sun had now risen, and it was about seven in the morning. Anya had found Nathan’s cloak and using it as a tablecloth, she had gotten out some more bread and a few apples out of the bag.
After breakfast, the two packed up camp and started on their way around the lake. They were able to travel much faster than they had in the mountains. Anya ran along the beach, letting the waves crash against her legs, and picking up shells here and there. Nathan watched her, thankful that she was happy, happier than he had ever seen her before. He laughed along with her when she slipped and fell into the water and smiled as she shook herself off like a dog.
Only a few more days before we will be on our way to freedom and safety, Nathan thought, rubbing part of a scar near the base of his neck. Once more, his mind took him back to that terrible night.

When he came to, his sister was bending over him, crying.
“Nathan Nathan”
He groaned and tried to sit up, but pain shot through his head and neck. “We need to get help” He murmured, shivering in the cool night air. “I need you to run and find someone.”
“Nathan, I don’t want to I don’t want to leave you here, and I’m scared, Nathan, I’m scared.”
“Go, please. I’m scared, too. Let’s pray.”
His sister nodded.
“God, protect us. Keep R’ina safe and me safe here. Amen. Now go, will you?”
She turned and ran through the wheat fields, popping up and down every now and then to look at her surroundings. Nathan slept in the field. He slept fitfully, his neck hurting so badly it was almost making him cry. When he woke, his first thought was ‘Am I in heaven?’ But then he looked around him and realized he was in a small farmhouse. A tall woman dressed in a simple dress belted at the waist sat next to him, and a few children sat playing on the floor. Nathan blinked a few times, and then noticed he was lying on his stomach and something was on his neck. He tried to move, but the woman gently placed her hand on his neck.
“Don’t move your neck.” When Nathan opened his mouth to protest, she put a finger to his lips. “You have a bad cut there. It goes from your neck across your shoulder. Do you know how you got it?”
“Ciaran’s men dagger.” Nathan whispered faintly, and then gasped. “Where’s my sister?”
“Your sister is over there, playing with my children. She’s fine.”
Nathan closed his eyes and went back to sleep.
Anya fell down in the water, causing Nathan to pull out of his thoughts, but when she climbed to her feet, he returned to his original thoughts.
Safety from raiders, safety from – Here Nathan stopped. He didn’t want to think about that. Safe from Ciaran’s men, Nathan finished, trying to stop hate from welling up inside of him. He knew that it were not for the overflow of the God’s love in him he would have gotten himself killed long ago. Silently, he thanked God that his eyes had been opened to see the light.
For the first three years after he had been running from Ciaran, Nathan had hated Ciaran and his men. He was angry at them, angry at the Creator, angry at everything. He didn’t understand why he was left alone to wander and never settle down while Ciaran reigned. Picking up a pebble and skipping it on the water, he remembered how the farmer had explained to him why the Creator would let things like that happen.
Anya came running up to Nathan, holding a small crab in her hands. Nathan picked her up, spinning her around, laughing with her, and then carried her for a ways, the whole time listening to Anya chattering away about her crab.

Ciaran looked out of the window of his favorite tower, his right-hand man Donal standing behind him. Donal’s short, grey-flecked hair was unkempt, and he wore a leather jerkin with a long-sleeved tunic underneath it. He was short and rather stocky, his round face almost hiding his sunken blue-grey eyes. Donal’s face was also scarred from many battles, and other scars were hidden in the folds of his tunic.
“So, Donal, any news from Bywyn?” Ciaran turned from the window to look at Donal, who stood behind him. Donal nodded, as Ciaran’s yellow-gold eyes glittered with anticipation.
“It has been destroyed, my lord. We left no one alive.”
“And no one escaped? The whole of Bywyn and its inhabitants must be destroyed. If a certain person escaped, it does not matter that the whole of Bywyn, the whole of Stargonia, were gone, but if the lost prince is still alive, all of rampaging the raiders have done was in vain.”
“Yes, my lord. To our knowledge, no one escaped. The men had the city surrounded, and it would have been incredible if anyone escaped.”
“Good. Now,” Ciaran walked to a table in the middle of the room, on which a map lay. “Where next?” He ran his large, calloused hand through his hair as he thought, chewing the inside of his lip.
“I don’t know exactly, my lord. But the city that could cause the biggest hindrance right now would be here.” Donal placed his finger on Anat. “We already have control of Itheial, Bywyn is gone, Maris is too tiny to be of any use to us, Tharia and Dalentia are already ours.”
“And Mytymnea?”
“Still remains to be conquered. But that, I think, should be saved for our final victory. Save the best for last, the one hardest to get, so that any rebels will be crushed.”
“Brilliant, Donal, absolutely brilliant. Just one question – how long do you think this will take?”
“Anywhere from a few months to a few years, my lord. Now that we’ve started to get Stargonia under your thumb, the rest should submit easily.”
“You know what happened the first seven years of my reign.”

Donal bit his lip. “Yes, my lord, I do. Now that we have a plan, though,” he paused, “it should be quick.”
“I should hope so. On to the figures, now that we know our route. How many men do we have?”
“Total or in each city?”
“Total.”
“If my calculations are correct, my lord, we should have around ten thousand men on our side. Then there are your fellow werewolves and the phoenixes, my lord. Grenech’s minotaurs are on our side, as well.”
“That’s not much,” Ciaran sighed, disappointed. They had much less than he thought. It would be a while until they had a large enough army to attack, and by that time, the rebels could have fought back by then. “How many do the rebels have?”
“We’re not sure, my lord. They’re very secretive about what they do, and we know almost nothing about them when they will strike, things like that.” He shrugged. “I’m afraid I can’t tell you any of that.”
“I see. Well, try to rally as many men and creatures as you can onto our side. Even the gryphons, if you can find them.” No one knew where the gryphons had gone, and most were too scared to look for them, as gryphons are very ferocious. Whoever found the gryphons and got them on their side – whether the rebels or Ciaran’s men – would most likely win the overall fight. All of Ciaran’s men knew this, and were commanded to keep a sharp eye out for the gryphons.
“Yes, my lord.” A knock sounded on the door. Donal opened it cautiously. “Oh, hello, Grenech. Come in.”
Grenech was Ciaran’s top general, a Minotaur, commanding the whole army, but especially the other Minotaurs. He held a cutlass in his upper right hoof, and he grunted as Donal opened the door. Grenech was in charge of the army that had attacked Bywyn, and he had come with some very important news for Ciaran.
As Grenech entered the room, he bowed to Ciaran. “My lord, I come with news.” “Is it good or bad?” Ciaran asked, his dark eyebrow rising in question. He could not afford any bad news at this point. Everything needed to go as planned, else everything was lost.
“It may be of no importance, my lord. But one of my Minotaurs spotted a young man and a little girl running off into the foothills just to the West of Bywyn. I do not know why he did not chase after them or tell us sooner, but there are some survivors from Bywyn.”
Ciaran’s eyes widened. “This is grave news, Grenech. Where are they now?” Fear began to grip Ciaran’s heart. From what they knew, a very important person was in Bywyn, and if he escaped, then Ciaran could very easily be overthrown.
“We do not know, my lord. They could be anywhere by now there’s been enough time for them to have reached Dalentia.”
“The little girl will slow him down. Donal”
“Yes, my lord?” Donal straightened and left where he had been near the door.
“Send out a search party. Go through Maris, Dalentia – both gates, and the region of Tharia. I want them found” Ciaran sank down into a chair, and then put his head in his hands. This could be the end of him.

By the time Nathan and Anya reached Dalentia, seven more days had passed and they were beginning to get low on food. Nathan realized they had eaten of it too freely in the first few days, and this surprised him – usually he was too careful. Off in the distance, they could see the walls of Dalentia, high and strong, rising above the ground. Earlier that morning, they had crossed over the river Tharia. As they neared Dalentia, Nathan heard shouting and the sound of armored men. Glancing around, Nathan scooped Anya up in his arms and began to run, looking for a place to hide. There was nowhere they could hide out on a flat plain, as he saw no rocks or tall grass anywhere. Now he could see the army marching. Anya began to cry.

Nathan quickly put his hand over her mouth. Even if the army were not out looking for them, there would still be danger of being seen – and caught. Dalentia was still too far away at the moment, but reaching the city was the only hope they had. He shifted Anya over his shoulder, and broke into a fast run, knowing his life and Anya’s could depend on them reaching Dalentia before the army saw them. The army came over one last small hill and onto the plain.
“Captain” A foot soldier shouted, pointing over towards Dalentia. “Could that be them?”
Grenech smiled inside. This was better than they thought. They had practically caught them. He motioned to the cavalry. “Ride ahead to catch them. Go quickly once they enter Dalentia, they will be lost, especially if today is a market day.” As he shouted, the cavalry wheeled around in the direction of Dalentia, and galloped faster and faster, coming closer to Nathan and Anya. Nathan was beginning to tire. He heard the horses coming on quickly. The gate was just ahead of them, and as Nathan glanced up at the walls of Dalentia towering above them, he began to feel scared, not being able to see what lay behind the walls. The gate was just beginning to close after letting in a group of minstrels, and Nathan, Anya still over his shoulder, slipped inside. Looking back, he saw a single horseman wheeling around to go back to the army. Relaxing a little, he set Anya back down on her feet.
“Who were they?” Anya asked, shaking.
“Some of Ciaran’s men. Come on.”

Winding through the streets of Dalentia, they made their way to the docks, where sailors were loading up ships. Holding Anya’s hand, Nathan looked at the various boats and ships, wondering if any of them were headed towards Agranthea. He doubted there were, knowing Agranthea was not a very safe place to be. Nathan sighed, then spotted an office nearby, the sign on which read ‘Port Management Office’. The office looked as if it were only one room, and the small window had curtains drawn over it. The roof looked as if it needed a few repairs, as did the rest of the building. Nathan told Anya what his plan, and together they headed over to the office. Lights were on inside, and through the window they could see someone’s silhouette, so Nathan pushed the door open, letting go of Anya’s hand and knocking.
“Come in” Someone shouted, and then came the sound of a chair scooting across the floor. Nathan stepped inside and Anya followed him in, glancing about the room as she entered. The room they were in was plain, having only a desk and a few chairs for furniture. A map hung on the wall, and ledgers and other maps were spread all over the desk. An elderly man stood behind the desk, ink all over his fingers and a quill pen tucked behind his ear, leaving a thin trickle of ink on his cheek. His white hair stuck out everywhere, and his blue eyes sparkled when he saw Anya. He smiled at her, and she shyly smiled back.
“How may I help the two of you on a fine day like this?” He asked. “We’re looking for a boat or a ship, sir, heading to Agranthea.” “I’ll see if we have anything..” The man sat down, picked up one of the ledger books and began flipping through it, humming to himself as he went along. Nathan bit his lip, as the man put down the one book and picked up another. Anya looked up at Nathan, her eyes filled with worry. Nathan picked her up and whispered in her ear, making her laugh.
Finally, after what seemed like hours, the man looked up. “There’s nothing going to Agranthea, I’m sorry. However, there seems to be a small boat for sale near the edge of town. It’s not that much money and it may be your only way to get to Agranthea.” “Thank you, sir. Where can we find it?” “If I’m correct, it’s the first house after the third dock from here. It should be easy to find.”
“Thank you for your time, sir.” “You are very welcome. Godspeed on your journey.”
“Creator bless you. Farewell.” Nathan and Anya left the office, and with Anya counting the docks they walked down to find the house where the boat was for sale. The house was large, and through the curtain less windows, Nathan could see rag dolls and toy wagons and towns scattered about the wooden floor. The house looked well kept, and Nathan guessed a large family lived there. When Nathan knocked, the door opened a crack, and through it Nathan could see a small boy, his face dotted with freckles, his red-brown hair hanging a little ways into his lively, green eyes. His small hand wrapped around the door handle and he pulled the door open a bit more to poke his head out. “What do you want?” He asked, his voice sweet and clear. “Is your father in?” Nathan questioned, raising an eyebrow. “Papa died at sea last year.” The boy’s face grew solemn, and his eyes lost the adventurous look they had held before. “Alfred, who’s there?” A voice called from the back of the house. “A boy and a girl, mama.”
“What do they want?”
“They’re asking for papa.” A woman appeared at the door, shooing the boy into the back of the house. The woman’s face was similar to the boy’s, although there were fewer freckles and even a wrinkle or two on her forehead. Her red hair was pulled back into a braid, and as she greeted Nathan and Anya she wiped her floury hands on her apron.

“Can I help you? As my boy explained, my husband has been dead for almost a year”
“I’m sorry, Ma’am. We’re here to see a boat that the man at the port management office told us was here.”
“Oh We’ve been trying to get rid of that thing ever since” “I understand. Can I take a look at it?” “Why, yes, of course Come in – pardon the mess, the children are rather terrible at cleaning up. Right, the boat. Come around back through here, and I’ll take you down to the shipyard. It’s in good shape still, where did you say you were going with it?” “Agranthea.”
The woman fumbled with a lock on a door. “Agranthea? Well, that’s interesting. I hope you get there safely. They say there are sea monsters around out there, though where exactly we don’t know.”
“Thank you for the information.” Nathan and Anya followed the woman through a few narrow alleys until they came to a beach with many overturned ships lying on it, most needing repairs. The woman’s children followed behind them, whispering amongst themselves. “Well, here’s the boat. I’m not taking very much for it it’s just taking up space out here. This is it. The wood is still good, and unless anything has happened in the past month, then it’s still in tip-top shape.”
The boat was rather small, about the size of a large rowboat. Most of the paint had worn off, but Nathan could tell that at one point it had been a beautiful bright blue with a darker blue edging. The wood was smooth and in good shape, and the sail was neatly woven, and although it needed a few patches, still almost as it was in its sailing days. Nathan nodded and scratched his chin. “What do you think, Anya?” Anya cocked her head to one side and eyed the boat. She smiled. “It’s good.” “How much do you want for it?” The woman wrung her hands. “I don’t know it depends on how much you think it’s worth.”
“I only have one hundred londqa and some food. I’m going to need some of the money for food for the journey, but” “Anything would be good since my husband died we haven’t been able to support ourselves all that well.” Nathan dug around in the pouch he kept at his waist. “Here’s seventy-five londqa. And I’ll leave the rest of our food with you.” “I can’t thank you enough. I’ll get the children to help you turn it over.” Hearing this, the seven children walked over to the boat and carefully pushed it right side up. “It’s close enough to the water that I can push it myself.” Nathan said when the children began pushing it towards the water. “And Anya and I aren’t quite ready to leave yet – we still need to get a few supplies.”
“Yes, of course. Thank you so much for all you’ve done for us. God bless you.” “And you – and your children as well.” “Thank you. Come along, children, let’s go home now.”
Nathan smiled to himself as they walked off. Someday, he would have a family like that. And hopefully someday rather soon. Ever since he had found Anya, he had dreamed of the day he would meet his wife, and have a family of his own. A big family, if God provided enough. Nathan took Anya’s hand in his, and together they wove through the town to the market, which was bustling at that time of day. After a few minutes of going from booth to booth, Nathan finally stopped by one with breads, dried fruits, and nuts. A young girl was working there, about fifteen or so, Nathan guessed. “Can I help you?” She asked when Nathan began looking at the food that was for sale there.
“I’m alright now, thank you.” “If you need anything, just tell me. I’ll help you if I can.”
Nodding to the girl, Nathan lifted Anya up so they could look at the food herself, and they could choose them together. First Nathan picked a few strings of dried apple slices, then a large bucket of nuts, followed by a small basket of oranges. Anya picked out a dozen or so loaves of bread. They purchased a few more things after this, and then, munching on nuts, they walked down towards the beach to prepare to leave. Nathan inspected the boat more thoroughly, and found it to be, as the woman had said, in almost tip-top shape. The rest of the afternoon they spent patching the sail and loading up with supplies – food, rope, buckets, and a couple other things they would need. Nathan took his dirk out of his bag and belted it around his waist, ready to use it if they needed to. Anya busied herself inside the boat, and using a few blankets they had bought after their provisions, made a few beds in the hold. She lowered the food into the small hold that they had, and wrapped the rope around the mast. By late evening, they were ready to leave. Nathan was in even more of a hurry to leave Stargonia since they had been chased earlier. Nathan now knew that Ciaran’s men knew where he was, and that could put him in grave danger. The soldiers had not followed him into Dalentia, which gave Nathan some hope. They at least had some time to get out of Stargonia. If Ciaran’s men entered before they were well out to sea, all was lost. “Anya, come on, let’s go” Nathan said excitedly, happy to go out to sea. He had learned how to sail on a river outside of one of the towns in which he had helped a farmer, and since then he had been longing to sail again. Anya sat down in the boat, and Nathan gave it a slight shove when a wave came up on the shore, and then pushed it the rest of the way out into the water, where he climbed on board.
The first day at sea was a perfect day for sailing – enough wind in the right direction, sunny skies, and calm water. Nathan showed Anya how to work the tiller and put the sail up and down, and they relaxed most of the day. However, when dawn came the second day, Nathan noticed that the sky was dark and cloudy. Anya woke, and Nathan lay down to take a nap, but just as he was falling asleep, a gentle rain began to fall. He slept for only an hour or so, but the rain became harder as the day went on, and he woke to rain falling on his face. By noon, it was pouring rain. Anya held onto the edge of the boat, her breathing unsteady as she threw up. Nathan tossed the anchor in the water, and then quickly worked to lower the sail. Normally he would have loved to be out at sea during a storm, but with him in charge, Anya with him, and a whirlpool not too far from them, he did not enjoy it, rather he prayed it would be over soon. The little boat continued to pitch and roll throughout the afternoon and evening, not calming with the coming of night. Soon after dark, Anya turned to help Nathan bail water out of boat. Around dawn, the rain began to lighten up. Anya left Nathan’s side to get some breakfast, but as she stood, a huge wave came crashing over the side of the boat, sweeping Anya off her feet.
“Nathan” She screamed as her mouth filled with water.
“Anya” Nathan reached out to grab her, but she was already in the sea, and came up to the top spluttering. Quickly, Nathan threw his cloak off and tore his dirk belt off, then dove into the water. When he surfaced, he searched frantically around for Anya. He found her floundering not far away. Anya He thought, and helping her onto his back, he turned to swim back to the boat, but he did not see it. Where did it go? He spun around frantically, trying to find it. The rain splattered onto his face, making it hard to see. Lightning lit up the sky, and Nathan saw the boat a little ways into the distance. He began to swim towards it as quickly as he could, not letting his eyes move away from the boat. Having Anya on his back slowed him down, but before long, they were back on board. He laid Anya down on her back and covered her with his cloak. She was beginning to cough, and water came up with every cough. Nathan began to panic. He had rarely been sick, and out at sea, days away from land with no way to navigate in the cloud-covered sky, he was helpless.
After what seemed like days at sea in the rain, the sky finally cleared and Nathan pulled up the anchor and hoisted the sail. He was still slightly panicky; however he was peaceful deep inside, knowing that God had a plan. That night he used the stars to get them back on course, and then turned his attention to Anya. She lay sleeping on the floor of the boat, seemingly peacefully, but when Nathan neared her he could tell her sleep was troubled. She’s burning up Nathan thought, God, help me What do I do? Anya coughed, and Nathan poured some fresh water into her mouth, then poured a bit onto a clean rag and placed it on her forehead. He knew almost nothing about nursing and healing, but he had learned some when he and people he had lived with had been sick.
The rest of the journey would have been pleasant if Anya had not been ill. Even when the weather warmed up, Anya still lay shivering in the bottom of the boat, and Nathan did all he could to help her, but she was worsening, not getting better. Nathan prayed over to her every spare minute, and was preparing for the worst, even going as far as giving her life up to God. The next day, Nathan saw land, and from then until they reached Agranthea and landed, Nathan packed up their supplies. Once on land, he carried Anya inland, where he began to make camp. Nathan wanted to start working on a shelter right away, but his focus now was Anya’s health. He worked over Anya every waking hour he had, only leaving to find more firewood or get something to eat. She seemed to be getting better for a few more days, but on their fifth day on the island, she took a turn for the worse. Nathan could now do nothing but pray he did not know how to help her anymore. On the sixth day, Anya woke drenched in sweat, screaming. Nathan knew that she would not live much longer, and within an hour, she drifted off into sleep and when Nathan turned to feel her forehead, it was hotter than ever. Nathan held her in his arms, the tears rolling down his cheeks. Anya wrapped her hand around Nathan’s arm, and her eyes held Nathan’s gaze for a short while, then she closed them and was still. NO no Nathan’s mind screamed. Even though he thought he had been prepared, nothing he had ever known could compare to this. He was alone now, all alone. Nathan quietly picked Anya up and carried her to a clearing he had found earlier and, setting her down, began to dig a hole. He picked some flowers growing at the foot of a tree and placed them in her hands, then gently lowered her in the hole. Nathan’s eyes began to tear up, and he wiped the tears away furiously as they began streaming down his cheeks. Almost blindly, Nathan filled the hole with the dirt he had taken out of it, and taking a few large sticks, he made a grave marker and carved Anya’s name into the wood.
He stayed at her grave for a long time, praying and weeping. Now that his only human friend was gone, Nathan was lost. He was all alone on a tree-covered island out in the middle of the sea, miles away from civilization. What was he to do now? Nathan continued to think about these things while he sat, his knees pulled into his chest and his arms wrapped around his legs. He stayed like that until the sun began to go down, and then sighed and got to his feet. Many thoughts went through his mind during that time, and he cried out to God in his confusion. He was lost, so hurt, and so confused. What do I do now? Anya’s gone, except for you, I’m all alone here. Lord, it’s so lonely down here. There’s only the animals. What do I do? There’s no one left for me to take care of here. There’s only one reason I’m on this island, and that reason is the same thing that’s keeping me alive right now. That and your love. Should I go back to the mainland? Or should I stay here until the time is right? Nathan lifted his head from his knees to wipe the tears from his eyes. Where do I go now? With one last glance at Anya’s grave, Nathan stood up, wanting to be away from that sad place as much as he could. His heart was aching, and it hurt terribly to think of Anya. His face wet and tearstained, Nathan silently made his way back to the camp. Alone once more, memories of his childhood began to fill his mind. Fighting the sadness that filled his mind, Nathan tried to focus on other things, happy times he’d had… then not knowing what else to do, he began to build a shelter to keep him out of the wind and rain.
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