The Cloak

By Sarah Jennings

Among a lost line of beautiful, wise queens and a conquered country still clinging to medieval traditions in today’s world, can Kellan be convinced that now is her time to act? Why should she? To the entire country, she doesn’t even exist. To her vengeful brother, she better not exist. Ever the reluctant leader, Kellan is pressured to use her incredible God-given abilities to bring back the glory of her homeland. To do so, she must fight her own will, overcome fears, and control her temper. It’s a lot to ask of a girl hidden under a cloak her whole life.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sarah Jennings
• Release date: Nov 1, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310358593

Sarah Jennings

Sarah Jennings is a children's book illustrator based in South London. At a very young age she discovered a love of drawing and has been scribbling in a sketchbook ever since! Since graduating in 2013 she has worked on a variety of books. Sarah works from her home studio in the company of her three-legged cat, Calvin.

Book preview

Chapter I

Sunbeams danced through little dust clouds. Horses pawed the ground and dogs barked. Merchants squawked their fares and blacksmiths answered back with clanging iron in a rhythmic melody. Against the odds of sweat and animals, there lingered an aroma of fresh baked bread. It was a defiant mixture of hard work, survival, and hope in a community beleaguered by much.

A cloaked girl darted among the busy marketplace traders. She had been allowed to go alone this time, a tiny taste of rare and sweet freedom, but the instructions were strict: get necessities and get home. Holding her hood securely around her face, she spoke quietly to the sellers, having to repeat herself occasionally to be heard over the din. She placed the purchased bundles in her basket and noticed the villagers were especially talkative today. Thankfully, it was about something or someone other than herself. Wonder what all the excitement is about…not that it matters or I really care now, she thought happily, this is my last shopping trip here...ever.

Gathering the small family’s needs and at the same time making a diligent effort to stay unnoticed was never an easy task...physically, because of the interaction required, and emotionally, because of all the usual, curious whispering about the hidden person no one in the village had ever viewed uncloaked. It was expected that a young woman her age should be well on her way to finding her role among humanity - and she was, just not in the sense her guardians had hoped. That didn’t bother her too much because the specific thing they had in mind wasn’t anywhere on her priority list…leaving a life away from here was.

Here was Errigal. It wasn’t a large, industrious European country, just a largely ignored small one tucked between France and Germany and clearly different from any other place on earth. While much of the world busied itself with gaining ground in technology, building powerful weapons, and seeking luxury accommodations, Errigal, meaning small church, remained a land immersed in the medieval culture it first possessed at its inception. Transportation by horse, cooking on a wood-fired stove, and in turn, dressing the part, were all the norm. It had been founded centuries earlier by Christian Celtic settlers who forlornly, but bravely, left their homeland to spread their passionate religious beliefs. Most citizens had never listened to a radio or turned on a light bulb. It wasn’t that they were forced to live in what some would call a state of hardship, but it was a love for the simple life and the traditions of old that kept them there. Family ties were steel strong, and only the most disheartened chose to leave for the outside permanently. Unfortunately, that last fact was becoming a little too common, as the nation was under an attack for the heart.

Seeking to relieve some of the tension and curtail the exodus was the king’s brother-in-law, Hahn, and this was where all the recent commotion sweeping throughout the valley had initiated from. Hahn had flown in a few months ago from Germany, to play interim ruler, on his small, private jet using a landing strip he had cleared, unintentionally, in a pasture the last time he visited. With King Evert bed ridden and his only son recently returned from an outside university, Hahn thought it was time to give matters a lift by throwing a party for his nephew. But it wasn’t going to be just any party. It was an event meant to surpass any Errigal had seen in a long time and coincide with finding the perfect mate for Prince Ian. It would be a grand ball, if you will, Cinderella-style, and the maidens invited would be treated to a trip to the castle, most likely their first visit, and given pampered treatment in preparation.

The valley villages had been buzzing ever since a rider came galloping through telling the news. Hahn had not given prior posted notice, allowing the excitement of roving ambassadors of the kingdom do the trick. And it was working. Families were more than willing to participate, sending their hopeful daughters hurriedly packed with handsome warriors of Errigal who had come as escorts in great fanfare. Having been under weak leadership for decades, the country was in a threatening down spiral, currently facing economic hard times and an overall depressed atmosphere. There was no quick relief in sight, and this idea, as sudden and odd as it was, began to stir up some much needed enthusiasm among all the citizens…all those except the girl enveloped in the dark, hooded cloak.

After discovering what all the rage was about, she forgot about the shopping. While others were rushing to stuff clothes and necessities in bags before the warriors reached their home, she was rushing to hide in a little thatched hut on the edge of the most western village, holding to her basket, and grasping the cloak and hem of her long dress.

Hurriedly, she bolted through the door, nearly knocking over those inside. They’re coming, she said breathlessly and ominously, her heart beating fast.

Who is coming, Kellan?

She forced herself to speak slowly. Warriors of Errigal.

Why?! The alarm of the old man was evident.

Kellan was still leaning with her back against the door, a million thoughts running through her head. I’m not completely certain of the details, but it has to do with the prince. The castle is having something to celebrate his return and marry him off as well. What should I do, Teacher?

Are they forcing all the maidens to go? he asked.

I don’t know. It doesn’t seem necessary, since the girls appear to be falling all over themselves to get ready. The word is they’re seeking all those eligible and coming around with carts, like some kind of ridiculous cross country wagon train, and everybody’s just climbing on. The whole thing resembles a blasted circus, Master Hewitt!

Calm down, Kellan, and let’s think this through. The teacher paced the floor, arms crossed and one hand on the side of his face. Kellan is right. This whole thing smacks of a crazy stunt, most likely perpetrated by the king’s brother-in-law would be my guess. Now, he thought, how can I make sure she doesn’t end up in one of the circus’ three rings? He quickly threw a prayer up to heaven.

Soon after, a knock on the door signaled that time was up and shook everyone to attention. Master Hewitt directed Kellan out the back door. Go…run, he told her, You know where to meet us. We’ll stall for time. Pulling a necklace from over her head, Kellan squeezed it into his hand and took off. There was another knock, and the woman of the house, faithful Osma, answered it with all the feebleness she could muster up.

Good day, kind woman, began the warrior’s speech, just as he had repeated countless times before. In honor of the prince’s return, his uncle, Lord Hahn, has decided to make the occasion memorable. All willing maidens are invited to be guests of the castle. The event promises to be thrilling for the young ladies, with one being chosen as the prince’s bride at the end. Do any such maidens reside here?

Osma stared blankly past the warrior’s eyes. She took her time responding to give Kellan a chance to escape. Do you understand what I’m asking? said the warrior. Osma looked at the ground, shook her head, and looked questioningly at him. Leaning against the doorway, she acted as if she could hardly stand. He asked if he might step inside to see if anyone might be interested in coming. Concerned that he might see some of Kellan’s things, she continued her facade of ignorance. He was about to brush his way through when a fellow warrior called out. Someone was running through the woods behind the house he announced.

What of it? yelled the warrior standing at the door.

Looks like he’s running for his life, the second warrior answered, but I don’t see anything chasing him.

Take Shields with you, and check it out. I’ll catch up.

Osma started talking her head off then, asking all sorts of questions about the celebration and inquiring about the king’s health. The warrior stepped past her and looked around the hut. He nodded to the old man and walked out. Strange people, he thought, guess that’s why they’re living out here on the fringe. He ran around the back and joined his comrades in pursuit. At least this is a little more adventurous than knocking on doors. He headed the figure off from the side, as Kellan had crossed back in the direction of the hut, and the other warriors closed in. Yanking the hood off, they discovered the beauty of beauties. Long, dark, curled tresses framed a slender face, flushed from running, with shining brown eyes and full lips.

Miss, have you heard of the castle’s invitation? questioned one of them finally, after staring intently for a long while. No answer. Kellan was looking down now, breathing hard, and waiting for any chance to run again.

Let’s just take her, suggested another. With that, Kellan took off. She didn’t get far with the three of them so close, and the serious resistance she put up only made them more adamant about bringing her in. Tying her hands in front, the whole willing maiden thing was tossed aside. There’s no question as to this one, they began reasoning among themselves. When the prince sees her, he’ll no doubt reward us like royalty. It wasn’t sound thinking, but this was the last village stop, and the girl was too beautiful to leave behind. The warriors felt like they had caught a trophy deer and in that sense, treated her no better.

Still silent, but yanking her arms out of their hands with a defiant attitude, Kellan was marched up past the little shelter she had lived in her entire life. This is just unbelievable…so close to getting out of here, and now this! Could I just not be more cursed? Master Hewitt and Osma stood in front, pleading with the warriors to let her go. All her life they had protected her from discovery, not an easy task with a girl so spirited, only to lose her to a round-up of the most unusual sort. Glancing back at them, with rebellious curls hanging in her eyes and drops of sweat rolling down the sides of her face, Kellan mouthed one word as she was being loaded onto a cart, "Leave."

Finally on board, Kellan looked up slightly at the others sitting around her and saw everyone staring back. How humiliating. It was the first time anyone else in the whole country had laid eyes on her. She and the old couple had often been the subject of conversation around the local villagers’ dinner tables. Their background and names were unknown, and even more intriguing was the fact that Kellan’s face had never been completely seen, mostly only her eyes. Yet, here she was, in full view. The other girls, who had been chatting vigorously since their boarding, became instantly quiet. Never had they guessed in their gossip sessions that the mystery girl was this extraordinary, obviously figuring that she must be quite the ugly duckling to stay covered all the time. Kellan looked down again, her hands still tied. Embarrassed beyond description and wishing she could just disappear, she did her best to ignore them. In time, the others all began to giggle again about meeting the prince. Strangle me now, thought Kellan as she rolled her eyes…the last thing she was interested in at this moment was romance.

During the course of the trip to the castle, Kellan tried escaping twice by jumping from her seat. Frustrated and afraid of losing her, the warriors covered her head with her hood, took her shoes, and forced her to walk beside the cart, strung along like cattle by her tied hands. All I need now is a bell around my neck, she thought miserably. It would have been more like Kellan to be fighting mad by now, but she was just too ashamed and her lost dreams had broken her heart. God, will this misery ever end, she silently prayed as she plodded along.

Her prayer life had been mostly one sided lately, as Kellan had been inattentive to what God had been trying to reveal to her, leaning more to talking to Him and not listening. It was something normally out of character for her, but like all believers do at times, she was trying to go her own way…and that way was far from Errigal. Accordingly, God, as He does with all those He loves, was mercifully bringing her back around to the wonderful purpose He had created her for, even if it meant towing her behind a horse drawn wagon to do it.

Not surprisingly, by the time the convoy reached the castle, Kellan was completely exhausted and dehydrated, her feet were bruised, and she was on the verge of slipping into unconsciousness. She swayed under the stress and fell to her knees. All the other girls, clearly excited and eager, hopped off the carts and lined up to enter the great hall of the giant, stone castle. Taking their prized, albeit limp, captive to the end of the line, the three capturing warriors stood by her, propping her up and proudly waiting for their unveiling.

Prince Ian was absolutely ecstatic about being home. He had missed Errigal and his father. The outside was definitely not for him. With respect to his uncle, he had agreed to this pageant, but was not in the least bit interested in picking a bride. It’ll be fun to entertain the girls though, he thought, so why not indulge Uncle