Chapter 5

The signs of life blooming across the land enthralled Trystan. They’d been traveling through Dreach-Sciene for almost a week now, he and a handful of his closest advisors and a large presence of soldiers at their back.

Trees that once reeked of death now stood vibrant and healthy, branches heavy with leaves and acorns reaching to the sky. Weathered grasses now swayed gently in the breeze, a sea of rippling green. Even the air seemed different. Pure and more invigorating. Or maybe it was the magic itself that sweetened the air.

He breathed it in deep, the freshness replaced the usual heavy dread in his chest with a new sense of hope. They’d done this. Him, Rissa, Alixa, Avery. Even Davi. They’d restored Dreach-Sciene’s magic. They’d given their people a fighting chance. Their crops would now grow abundant. For some, that was all the magic they’d see. Others would use it to fight the coming army.

Even if Davi believed they’d only accomplished what Calis wanted them to do, bringing Dreach-Sciene back to life for Calis to take it for his own, it was still a chance. Without magic his people would have surely perished. War was inevitable, he knew that, but at least his people would take to arms with full stomachs and clear minds. They’d done the right thing. A tiny smile replaced the usual grim line of his mouth and the constant furrow of his brow smoothed if only for a moment.

“Something amuses you, Trystan? Wanna share the joke with the rest of us?”

Trystan glanced past Avery to Wren, both of their horses flanking his right. His smile widened at Avery’s scowl. He knew Wren’s familiarity with the use of his name irritated the sword master to no end. Wren, however, didn’t seem to notice Avery’s displeasure with him. Trystan had realized that Wren didn’t let much bother him. And if it did, he let you know. Didn’t matter if you were nobility or commoner, the man spoke his mind. He reminded Trystan a lot of the old Davi. It amused and saddened him at the same time.

Trystan’s grin encompassed them both.

“Just enjoying the scenery. It’s nice to be out in the fresh air, free from all the humdrum of castle life.”

“Hmm, nice. Not exactly the word I would use for this foolhardiness, Trys….your Majesty.”

Wren’s use of Trystan’s title was due to the sharp glance from Avery, no doubt. Her gaze of displeasure cut sharp as any knife and could only be ignored for so long. He and Davi had learned that fact well over the years.

Trystan chuckled softly. “And pray tell why would you call our escapade foolhardy, Wren? Do you not enjoy the countryside and meeting the people of Dreach-Sciene? Have the villages not met us with the highest welcome and provided us with the best they have to offer? I’ve seen more than a handful of fair maidens gush over you in our visits. Do you not enjoy all the attention, Sir Yaro?”

“You know darn well that’s caused me more than enough trouble,” Wren growled as he glanced back at the light-haired Mira riding a few paces behind. The village girl who had become his constant companion since joining in the fight for the realm, had not been happy with the adoration bestowed on Wren by the other ladies.

“Language, Sir Yaro,” Avery admonished, and Wren lifted a hand in mock salute.

“Yes, ma’am. Sorry, ma’am. Don’t mean to offend your sensitive ears.”

Avery narrowed her eyes as Trystan laughed again.

“And it’s not the people of Dreach-Sciene I question. It’s the choice to travel the lands when we very well know the whole country is crawling with Isenore soldiers and Dreach-Dhoun spies, while we ride with the sigil of House Renauld displayed for all to see. Forgive me if that makes me a little uneasy, sire.”

Trystan’s laughter faded away.

“I don’t understand what you’re saying, boy.” Anger strained Avery’s words. “You’d rather we travel in pretense? Dressed as Isenore soldiers to creep around what are Renauld lands? We display our Renauld sigil with pride. We will not pretend otherwise.”

Wren held both hands palms up at Avery.

“Now, now Mistress Payne, don’t get yourself riled up. Trust me, I speak in peace. I am proud to follow House Renauld. Always have and always will. I’m just questioning if it’s a good idea to be traveling now of all times, when an attack from Calis is imminent.”

Trystan held up a hand to halt Avery’s angry response.

“No, Wren, it’s not a good idea. Not at all. It is as you said, our enemies surround us. Just being out here in the open puts us in danger, but how will my people come to trust me as their king if I stay hidden behind the safety of my walls and leave them to deal with the fallout? You’ve seen the response of the villages we’ve visited. They need to see us. They need to see me. To put their faith in me. How can I expect to recruit their sons and daughters to fight in my name if I can’t even forgo the worry of my own safety to check on their wellbeing?”

“The king speaks the truth,” Alixa said.

Trystan hadn’t even realized she was close enough to overhear their conversation. Her eyes sparkled a greeting at him as she drew her horse alongside his.

“The people need to see their king right now. They need to know he believes in their ability to win this war. He needs to be their symbol of hope, for without hope to bolster them they will give up before the fight even begins.”

Wren flashed his teeth. “Nicely said. You’re much more than just a pretty face, Alixa Eisner.”

Trystan held his breath and winced, waiting for the censure to fall from Alixa’s lips. The bright sun must have put her in a forgiving mood this morning since she merely grinned back at Wren.

“Careful. Sir Yaro. Mira still hasn’t forgiven you for your flirting behavior at the last village. What she sees in you is beyond me, but I wouldn’t make her any more mad than she already is.”

Wren leaned over his horse’s neck and pointed Alixa’s way as his laughter floated on the wind. “Go figure you two would hit it off. Very much alike you are. Avery too. Woe is me if I’m stupid enough to anger three stubborn, strong headed women this early in the day. I’ll shut up now while I still have a head attached to my shoulders.”

Alixa nodded. “Smartest thing you’ve said all morning.”

Trystan couldn’t keep his own laughter from escaping. It felt good to laugh. To let loose. Ever since Davi and Rissa had left with Edric and Ramsey for Dreach-Dhoun, he’d been carrying a heavy heart filled with worry and dread. Alixa had decreed the village visits a necessity to earn his people’s trust, and it very well was. It was also a way to keep him from worrying too much over his sister and brother. The thought of not being with them, to watch over and protect them, was driving him mad. At least this kept his mind occupied.

They traveled at a slow gait without speaking for the rest of the morning, all of them happy to let the sun’s rays warm the tops of their heads and thaw some of the fear from their bones. The sounds all around them were intoxicating, wind rustling through the leaves, birds off in the distance chirping a welcome to the sun, it all confirmed the promise of life once again to Dreach-Sciene. Now if only they could see that promise fulfilled.

As Trystan and his people rounded a bend along the tree covered trail, the morning sounds were accompanied by others. They were met with the sight of a village nestled in the rolling hills below their vantage point. Dozens of small cottages and farms dotted the green landscape. Smoke rose from their chimneys and people scurried about. The echoing of noise soon became distinct sounds. Clanging of metal signified blacksmiths at work, their labors punctuating the din of livestock and dogs and people with the sounds of hammers against iron. This village was alive once again.

Wren halted his horse beside Trystan’s, his brow wrinkled in puzzlement.

“This village seems familiar.” He glanced back at Mira. “Is this…”

“My village? Yes,” Mira confirmed, her face showing little emotion.

Mira’s admission came as a surprise since Trystan recognized it as well. It was the village they’d come to on their way to the mountains of Isenore during their quest to find Lonara. The village that had refused to help them and turned them away.

The tiny parish seemed to be in total contrast to the last time they’d been here though. The once dried out pastures Trystan remembered were now green and alive with crops. The cottages that had been falling down around the villager’s ears stood fortified. What once seemed broken beyond repair now appeared whole and alive from the return of magic. Their arrival did not go unnoticed. The echoing of the hammers and cries of the people faded away as many sets of eyes turned to the sight of the army contingent lining the ridge above their village. Trystan turned to the blonde girl.

“Mira, would you lead the way? Maybe they need to see a familiar face right about now.”

She ducked her head in deference. “As you wish, your Majesty.”

She led them down the hill, Trystan and Wren following close behind. Wren’s dark eyes never wavered from the long blonde hair hanging down Mira’s back, his concern for her written on his face. Trystan was in the dark as to how Mira had left this village, but from Wren’s body language it hadn’t been on the best of terms.

Memories of how these villagers had treated them with hostility on their first visit came flooding back, and Trystan’s hand rested on the sword hanging on his hip. He knew the hostility had been born of desperation. This village along with hundreds of others had suffered over the last twenty years, but the despair and hopelessness he’d witnessed here had haunted him since. He just hoped that bringing back magic was enough for his redemption in their eyes.

As they approached, villagers broke off from the crowd, walking cautiously toward them. Four elders at first, but as Mira got closer, two little ones erupted from the crowd and screamed her name.

“Mira!”

Mira leapt nimbly from her horse. Falling to her knees, she held out her arms as they ran straight to her, and she wrapped her arms around them.

“Tara, Toro.” Her voice was thick with tears, but none fell as she let go of the children and stood up to face the elders approaching her. Trystan, Wren and Avery dismounted in haste, flanking the girl on either side.

A thin, worn-down man stepped Mira’s way and Trystan recognized him as the villager who’d asked him to leave them be on their first visit here. His face elicited another memory. Something about losing his daughter to Trystan’s war. Could it be Mira he spoke of?

The question was soon answered. Mira’s broken ‘father’ was muffled as the man pulled her into his embrace, his hand rubbing the back of her hair like he couldn’t believe it was her.

“Daughter,” was all he said, but the word was filled with relief and forgiveness. Mira hugged her father tight before stepping back and studying his face. “Mother?” was all she asked, but the old man’s face crumbled, and a single tear trickled down a wrinkled cheek as he shook his head. Trystan felt wetness gathering in his own eyes and he blinked the tears away, staring down at the ground so no one could witness his weakness. He gave them a moment before clearing his throat. The man startled and released Mira, turning his attention on Trystan.

Trystan could see the moment recognition set in. The man’s eyes grew wide as he took in the hovering army and the sigil of House Renauld.

“Your Majesty.” He spoke clearly and with respect as he went down on one knee. A murmur resonated over the crowd as they all came to the same realization. Their monarch stood before them in their little farm village. As one, they all fell to a knee, heads bowed in respect as the shout of “Long live King Trystan,” filled the air.

Trystan shuffled uneasily as he waited for the chanting to subside. No matter how many times he experienced this, it made him uncomfortable.

“Please,” he pleaded, raising his voice for all to hear. “Please rise. All of you.”

They did as he asked But Trystan focused his attention on Mira’s father. He seemed to be the leader.

“You remember who I am, then.” It was a statement not a question. But the old man nodded and hung his head in shame.

“Yes. I beg mercy, your Majesty, for all of us. When you were here before….we were not in our right minds. Hunger will do that to a person. We should have helped you instead of turning you away. Please forgive us, sire.”

Trystan smiled at him in benevolence. “There is nothing to forgive, good sir. You did what had to be done to provide for you and yours in harsh times, as I would have done in the same circumstances.” He looked around the village. “It appears that things have changed since our last visit.”

The old man’s eyes crinkled in the corners as a smile creased his face. “All thanks to you and the princess, so we’ve been told. You did the impossible and restored magic. It was a miracle.”

Trystan’s smile held a tinge of sadness. “I wouldn’t call it a miracle, sir. And it wasn’t just my sister and I who accomplished this task. There were many others involved. Some who sacrificed much more than they should have.” He gestured to the crowd with his chin. “As you all have. But the magic flows and the land lives again. You will suffer no longer.”

A cheer rose from the crowd and Trystan felt guilty for raising their hopes, for he knew the next words he had to say would crush that hope again.

“You called me King Trystan. So, the news of my father’s death has reached you?”

The old man nodded. “Aye. It was a sad day. Your father was a brave and noble man. But we know his son follows in his footsteps. We are not worried. You will not fail us.”

Mira’s father sounded confident and sure, and Trystan wished he could feel even half of that confidence. “Even at the knowledge that war is imminent? That Calis will try to take what is ours? Are you ready to fight for what is yours, for fight you will need to.” His last words came out almost as a whisper, but it only increased the look of determination on the old man’s face.

“Aye. We know war is coming. We’ve known for a while. And we are preparing. The village smithy and farrier have been hard at work ever since the magic returned. We knew what that return meant.”

A deep sense of relief filled Trystan at the villager’s words. The people of Dreach-Sciene would not let Calis do this the easy way.

“And you are willing to let your young people go? Anyone able bodied and of age will be needed to train in magic to help fight this war. Are you all prepared to do that?”

The old man straightened his back, staring Trystan in the eye as he raised his voice for all to hear.

“King Trystan asks if we are willing to fight. To protect what is ours and keep it from falling into Dreach-Dhoun’s vile grip. I say we tell him yes. I say we let him know that this village will no longer stand back and cower while others do what needs to be done. The king and his sister put their lives on the line to bring magic back to us. Now we return the favor. We will fight. We will contribute. We do this, not just for you, King Trystan, but for us, and for all of Dreach-Sciene.”

A roar erupted from the crowd, and it took a moment for Trystan to understand what the villagers were screaming as they pumped their fists in the air. But then he understood.

“Dreach-Sciene. Dreach-Sciene. Dreach-Sciene.”

His heart filled with pride, he glanced over at Alixa, and she smiled at him, her eyes shiny with her own tears of joy. Wren bumped him with his shoulder and Trystan’s gaze moved to him. Wren nodded his dark head toward the still chanting crowd, “Well I’d say that’s a yes.”