War’s Toll: Book Three of the Gilded Serpents

By Elizabeth Gaines Johnston

Now that Princess Kwyleeana has drowned at sea, it appears the kingdom is lost forever—unless her allies can complete her quest to save Cantermere from the Ancient One determined to possess it. Even as war looms and bloody battles commence, those closest to Kwyleeana still hold hope that she is somehow alive and has survived the evils her brother, Pfenwic, has cast upon her. If it is indeed possible that the powers of the magical pendant Kwyleeana wears around her neck have protected her from an untimely end, only time will tell if she can reach the final battle before it is too late to save those who are struggling to defend her home. There is no question that the future of the realm is perilously hanging in the balance. In the epic conclusion to this trilogy, loss, hatred, and fear challenge a group of heroes as love, valor, and magic intertwine to test everyone’s mettle in a tumultuous fight for a kingdom. This is the final book in the Gilded Serpents trilogy.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu Publishing Services
• Release date: Jun 5, 2015
• ISBN: 9781483428413

Book preview

War’s Toll

Book Three of the Gilded Serpents

Elizabeth Gaines Johnston

Copyright © 2015 Elizabeth Gaines Johnston.

Cover Illustrated by Kimberly Daniel

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored, or transmitted by any means—whether auditory, graphic, mechanical, or electronic—without written permission of both publisher and author, except in the case of brief excerpts used in critical articles and reviews. Unauthorized reproduction of any part of this work is illegal and is punishable by law.

ISBN: 978-1-4834-2840-6 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4834-2841-3 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2015904236

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Lulu Publishing Services rev. date: 06/02/2015

Contents

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Pronunciation Glossary

Acknowledgments

About the Author

Dedication

War’s Toll, Book Three of the Gilded Serpents trilogy, is hereby dedicated

…to my readers, who have traversed every league of these lands with me, fought every battle and felt every loss, and have continued to believe in Kwyleeana and her story, and thus, believed in me as well;

…and as always, to my four boys, Tom, Stephen, James and Robert, for showing me that anything and everything in this world has a cost, but only a very few things are worth it. Raising you is one of those.

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Map illustration by Marc Kugel.

61264.png Chapter One

T he door to the Royal Chambers flew open. Pfenwic stormed in then stopped to survey the dormant form of King Harthgow suspiciously. Therion and Guillam followed in his angry wake, the latter silently closing the door behind them before venturing forward to address his brother.

His status is unchanged, Pfenwic. I think you worry overmuch.

At his words, the prince spun on his heels, glaring at the man beside him. You can see his color has improved since her visit, so you know your own words to be false. Do you lie to me for a reason, brother?

Guillam shook his head, knowing better than to encourage an argument. I meant no deception. I was merely stating that, outside of an improved complexion, Harthgow exhibits no signs of recovery.

That may be true, Pfenwic conceded, but neither does he indicate any sign of a relapse, despite our efforts. She has done something to him which will not permit him to die. I am certain of it.

Really, Pfenwic, Therion interjected, secretly enjoying the friction between the two siblings. I think you are being just the slightest bit paranoid. After all, whether Harthgow here dies or not, he can cause you no trouble while he slumbers. If he shows no signs of recovery, what is the harm?

Pfenwic pursed his lips angrily, but did not respond. Instead, he swiveled around to scowl at the king, who was breathing evenly. Impulsively, the prince swung one of his fists downward, slamming it hard into Harthgow’s side, just below the ribcage. The body did not flinch, the only sign of impact being a slight pause in the rhythm of the king’s breathing.

Damn you, Harthgow, Pfenwic cursed, his words barely more than a hiss. It would be so easy to draw my sword and kill you now, yet I cannot for fear of alienating your former subjects. But mark my words, once that daughter of yours is dead and I rule as Emperor of all the lands, nothing will stay my hand.

But Kwyleeana is dead, Pfenwic, Therion whispered. I would think all that is left to do is vanquish those Waellkyllions and be done with it.

Such would be a simple task, now that you have confirmed for me both Dynifrich and that persistent Neachwyl are truly gone. But I suspect that my dear sister is still alive. A knock on the chamber door drew Pfenwic’s attention from the king, and he took a deep breath before ushering in the caller.

You will pardon my disturbing you, Your Majesty, Selwyn began as he entered, conducting a rather weather-beaten man behind him, but we have an important visitor.

The interruption is welcome, steward, but I believe you misspoke, for my title is merely ‘Your Highness’. I should not be addressed as ‘Your Majesty’ while Harthgow lives.

Your pardons, Your Highness, Selwyn continued, pleased at the smile his calculated mistake had sparked in Pfenwic’s eyes. As I mentioned, we have an important man with us. This is the captain of the ship that handled the precious cargo we discussed earlier. Shutting the door firmly, he added, The captain returned from his journey upon receiving my missive indicating I wished him to speak with you.

Pfenwic moved to sit atop the large round table, one leg crossed casually over the other. Then proceed, Captain. Tell me your tale, but be aware I will know if you lie to me.

We was carrying cargo to trade with the coastline communities suffering on account of the war. They tends to accept higher prices when there be no other way to get goods. The bedraggled man grinned toothily before continuing. Some soldiers escorted a cart to my ship, which I thought not unusual, since during war, there be a great deal more thieves and vagabonds about. Then one of them guards came to me and told me in hushed tones about the witch you wanted done away with.

And did you do as the guard instructed? Pfenwic prodded.

Indeed, we did, Your Highness, came the reply. We want no evil witch to bring harm to the land or its people. We did not unfasten the chain around the sack, and after I dealt her a few swift kicks, I myself watched two of my men pitch her overboard. When she disappeared below the surface, we sailed on.

Of course you did, was all the prince said, and the room fell quiet for several moments, the captain shifting his weight uncomfortably, hoping to be dismissed.

Finally, Therion broke the silence, knowing he himself had better things to do than sit here waiting for more from Pfenwic. That settles it then, does it not? he concluded, clapping his hands together, hoping the sharp sound would bring Pfenwic around to answering.

My thanks, Captain, for delaying your trade to deliver this report, the prince intoned, his face expressionless. Selwyn will see you returned to your ship without further difficulties.

The captain nodded and left hurriedly, the chill in the room making him eager to return to the comparative warmth of a winter at sea.

Selwyn paused to look back at the prince before following. You see, Your Highness, the princess need no longer concern you. She is happily decaying at the bottom of the ocean. He waited a moment more for praise from Pfenwic, but upon receiving none, he merely bowed low and closed the door behind him before dashing after the departing captain.

When he was certain Selwyn was not capable of overhearing, Guillam ventured a question. So, now that Kwyleeana is definitely out of the way, what next is to be done?

He was answered by the loud crash of Pfenwic slamming his fist down onto the table. Damn her! I care not what that desiccated captain or my devoted, bootlicking steward claims, Kwyleeana is still alive. Blast that accursed Pendant. It must have somehow saved her. . .or mayhaps that overgrown lizard. . .

Baelwyn? Therion remarked, surprised. I imagine someone would have seen a huge dragon hovering over the sea carrying a soaked figure. True, it is in his nature to protect her, though I honestly cannot fathom why. He knows he can never have her for his own.

But if she had the ability to use the Pendant, why would she have remained in the sack? Guillam asked. In fact, why would she have allowed herself to be captured in the first place?

I know not, Pfenwic sighed, his voice sounding uncharacteristically tired. I have searched for her with every means at my command, but I cannot locate her. Yet, I assure you, she still lives. I can sense it, can almost feel her.

Feel her? the Morainian prince mused. How lucky for you.

Therion, honestly, one day your overweening lust is going to get you into trouble, the prince warned. I have a tie to her neither of you could begin to understand. I know she is alive. The difficulty lies in finding her. If that were not enough, I also have those damned Waellkyllions breathing down my neck, wanting to commence the battle.

It has been over half a fortnight since your return, brother, Guillam pointed out, and they have not yet attacked the castle. Perhaps they are waiting for you to make the first move.

Or per chance they plan some sort of surprise, to catch me at my weakest. He pressed his fist hard into his other palm, the joints cracking in protest. And my excuse of delaying battle for a death in the family will only keep them at bay so long. I must find that meddlesome sister of ours soon, brother, or it will take more effort to win this than I had intended.

At least you still avow we will win, Therion noted.

Oh yes, we will win. Pfenwic chuckled without a hint of mirth. I never doubt that. But it is becoming increasingly more laborious than I first envisioned.

Well, if we are going to have so much work on our hands, Therion decided, I shall enjoy a little. . .recreation, while I still have the time. If you will both excuse me, there is a chambermaid awaiting my amusing wit.

Well, we did not suppose she was waiting for your prowess in the bed chamber, Guillam snickered, pleased with the conspiratorial laugh his brother volunteered at his words.

I thought that was a given, Therion announced proudly.

Either way, Pfenwic appended, I fear the poor girl is bound to be disappointed.

I wish not to remain privy to such abuse. The victim huffed, turning to leave the room with a hasty bow. I have more willing admirers.

More desperate, you mean, the prince yelled after him as the door to the chamber slammed shut once more. Heaving a weary sigh, Pfenwic smiled. No matter how much trouble he is going to be for me in the coming months, it is quite nice to have such a target for entertainment.

So you still mean to eliminate him after you have become Emperor, Guillam probed, trying to assess what kind of mood his brother was in this evening. In the week since Pfenwic’s return, Guillam had learned to walk softly and carefully where the prince was concerned. He and his family could not risk divulging their true allegiance.

Of course, the prince replied, beginning to pace the room as he spoke. I can risk not having as one of my commanders someone who so easily turns traitor. I must be absolutely certain of their loyalty, or they will be eliminated. Guillam hoped this assertion was not being currently applied to himself, but endeavored to display no signs that his loyalty would even be in question.

Very wise. The lands shall be fortunate to have one so decisive as their leader. There have been weak rulers here for far too long.

Pfenwic shifted to examine Guillam. I think you have been taking bootlicking lessons from Selwyn. Not that your good faith goes unnoticed, mind you. I merely hope you know those whose loyalty comes from their tongues and not their hearts will soon find themselves without both.

The casual nature to such threats were common for Pfenwic, but it still gave Guillam a chill every time he heard his brother speak with such cruel candor. When they had been children, Pfenwic had always been the more gentle of the two boys. Guillam often wondered at the ironic twists of fate which had now reunited them, both in such different roles.

Deciding not to pursue that line of discussion further, Guillam laughed. Well, I hope Therion is not the only one who can enjoy some leisure this night. Have you any plans in particular for the rest of the evening? I am sure there are at least two or three girls in the town possessing higher standards than those willing to sleep with Therion. They would undoubtedly be honored to spend a night in your company.

Perhaps, Pfenwic murmured, his eyes focusing again on the sleeping form of Harthgow. I really would rather begin searching for our sister. I will find her before she finds me, I swear it.

I doubt not your vigilance, brother, Guillam offered, placing a gentle hand on Pfenwic’s shoulder, but even a future Emperor needs to let go and unwind a little every once in a while.

But Kwyleeana is out there, plotting against me, the prince argued.

One night of relaxation will do you no harm. In any case, you have told me yourself that even with the Pendant, she can match not your powers. Why need you spend all your waking hours planning your attack against her? You will win in the end either way. So why not take an evening to enjoy yourself?

Pfenwic hesitated a moment more, and then laughed. You are quite the persuasive one. And it has been some time since I had any. . .how did he put it. . .recreation. Come, let us send for some flagons of wine and spend time together with a bit of feminine company. Moving out to the anteroom, Pfenwic turned to face Guillam once more. Mind you, on the morrow, the search for dear little sister commences.

Shutting the chamber door soundly, the brothers proceeded toward the main hall, vowing not to discuss warfare or schemes again until the sun rose above the horizon the following day.

A single torch danced amid the silent shadows of the Royal Chambers, giving the room a funereal glow. A flash of brown and white fur scurried along the floor, sniffing about for a stray crumb or forgotten tidbit. Two fireflies skipped across the air above the king, pausing briefly before floating out into the night. Somewhere within the castle a baby cried, while a harried servant dropped a tray with a crash. Outside, a solitary wolf howled to the absent winter moon. The torch by the bedside of the king flickered once and died, plunging the room into darkness. Deep in the black silence, Harthgow opened his eyes, furrowing his brow as he ruminated on what he had overheard.

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Ellvyna paced through the air of the forest glade, her thoughts anguished as the night stretched toward dawn. Mere moments ago, two of her scouts had returned with the news which now plagued her, news she would shortly have to bring to the others. The princess was gone, and now it was left to the Queen of the Faeries to relay the tragic tale to her followers, at least two of whom would be less than receptive to what she had to say.

There was a rustling in a nearby bush, and she knew the time had come. She took a deep breath to steady her own emotions, aware she must present the news as calmly as she possibly could. The first band of faeries moved into the darkened clearing, followed shortly thereafter by two larger groups. They trickled in slowly, filling the glade with dim light. Somewhere in the midst of the throng came King Dynifrich, yawning loudly as he took a seat at the base of a tree. Only when the last contingent, which included an equally drowsy Neachwyl, had taken their seats, did Ellvyna float down to begin her speech.

I am sorry to have disturbed you all at this late hour, she prefaced, but the news I impart is of grave importance, else I would have waited until morning. I ask that you hear all I have to tell, for I wish not to repeat my words, and it is imperative that each of you understands what has transpired. She paused then, dreading the task which lay ahead of her.

Dynifrich leaned close to Neachwyl, who sat beside him. She is stalling, he whispered to the knight.

I wonder what has happened, Neachwyl responded with a distracted shrug, trying to focus his thoughts to discover what had distressed the Queen of the Faeries so much.

Ellvyna inhaled another breath of the night air, tasting its winter chill on her lips. The snow is not far off, she thought. The death of the land following the death of the one who could have saved her. Bringing her musings back to the crowd before her, she sighed.

I am sorry, my friends. I keep searching for an easy way to impart what news I have, and yet, I find none. I wish I did not have to utter these words, but I know I must. A short while ago, two of our scouts returned to tell me that Princess Kwyleeana. . .is dead.

She lifted her eyes to gaze over their heads, so she would not behold the anguish on the faces of her people, but she could feel it all the same. Soft murmurs skittered across the wind, and, after pausing a moment more to let her words sink in, the pixie queen raised her hand for silence. I share your distress, my friends. I have sent these same scouts to fetch Baelwyn to confirm this information, for if anyone would know of her death, it would be the dragon.

But who killed her? How did she die? voices cried out in the night.

I can relate only what I have been told, Ellvyna responded. The scouts came directly from Perina and Nola, who as we speak are at the Cantermere castle, trying to save King Harthgow. Apparently, Her Highness had been imprisoned upon her arrival home to await the ruling of Prince Pfenwic. What happened next lacks detail, but somehow she escaped the tower confining her long enough to go to her father to attempt to heal him. Whether she succeeded or not, I do not know, but she was discovered, and the steward of the castle, evidently not recognizing her as the princess, decreed her to be a sorceress.

Then she was sent to be drowned in the ocean, murmured a deep voice toward the edge of the crowd. She could not have escaped.

I am afraid I must agree with you, Dynifrich. The Queen of the Faeries sighed, forgoing formal titles in the interest of companionship. Her only hope would have been the Pendant, but even that has its limitations. This is why I have sent for Baelwyn. He might know if she survived. She paused before adding plaintively, He would certainly know if she did not.

No… whispered another voice in the dim light. It cannot be.

Ellvyna bit her lower lip with concern. I truly wish it were otherwise, Neachwyl. You know I do. But my scouts have never lied to me…

Then someone has lied to them! the knight shouted suddenly, rising to his feet. Kwyleeana is not dead! I will not believe it!

Now then, Wyl, Dynifrich consoled, you must not let your emotions cloud your thinking. You know as well as I the established punishment for open practice of dark sorcery. I doubt Pfenwic or his followers would forfeit a chance to legally execute the one person who could have destroyed their plans for conquest. I know how much you cared for her, lad, he continued, reaching up to put a hand on the knight’s shoulder, but you have to keep a hold on yourself.

She is not dead, was Neachwyl’s response, as he brusquely whisked the king’s hand away from his shoulder. So I need not your condolences. Crossing to where the queen floated before the others, he fought against the anger and despair rising in his stomach. Ellvyna, you must release me. I have to find Kwyleeana. I could not live with myself knowing she might be alive somewhere and in danger. Surely you understand that.

I do, good knight. But I beseech you, wait for Baelwyn to come, so we might confirm what we have heard. Then, if you wish to search for her…

No, Ellvyna, you must release me now, Neachwyl demanded, his chin raised high and his breathing rapid. Another day could be too late. And if the dragon cares for her as much as I think he does, he will not return to your summons until he has searched every corner of the lands for Kwyleeana. Baelwyn shall not rest until he finds her, alive or not. Nor can I. His eyes were sparkling dimly, awash with unshed tears, as his voice grew softer. Please, Ellvyna. I love her with all my soul. I must know for certain.

The sprite deliberated for many long moments, her thoughts distant. At length, she smiled slightly. Very well then, Sir Neachwyl, you are free to go your way. One of my faeries will escort you to ensure you exit the mists safely.

Neachwyl nodded his silent thanks and was turning to leave when another voice stopped him. My friend, I will accompany you, Dynifrich announced, rising to join the departing knight.

Nay, Dynifrich, you must remain here, Ellvyna corrected emphatically. It is not safe for either of you to return yet. Nonetheless, I realize how futile it would be to hold Neachwyl against his will. It is not right that he leave now, but I know I can convince him not of this.

Dynifrich signaled for Neachwyl to remain, himself crossing closer to the hovering pixie queen. Dearest Ellvyna, you have shown such kindness and wisdom during our stay with you, and I have enjoyed this respite more than I had initially expected. I have learned much during my reprieve here, for which I genuinely give you thanks. But the lands need me now, Ellvyna, even as they need you—to heal the wounds they suffer. Show me again your wisdom, Queen of the Faeries, and allow me to depart with Neachwyl. I shall not disappoint you.

Ellvyna drew her lips tightly together, her wings fluttering stiffly as she stared coldly at the king. He had not spoken of battle for some time, had even now not mentioned returning to the war. Perhaps he truly wants to heal the lands, and not harm them, she thought. But I can take not that chance. She shook her head deliberately, crossing her arms in front of her chest as she asserted, Your Majesty, I understand you have good intentions, but I worry for your safety. However, I can no sooner hold you than I can Neachwyl.

So you will agree to let me leave with him? he asked, his tone serious.

Yes, under one condition. You shall both be accompanied by a faery guard of six, she decreed, of which I shall be one. Voices of protest emanated from the others in the grove, which the queen silenced with a look. The rest of you will remain here, in safety, until I am assured these two are well guarded by some of their own. Then I shall return to you.

But, Your Majesty, argued Daffwyni, you are placing yourself in great danger. Stay with us here until the Wars are over, so we can repair the damage once more and live in peace.

Enough. I have made my decision and will hear no arguments to the contrary. I shall be accompanied by my personal guard, and we shall set out at first light, which is but a few hours hence. We must begin preparations for departure. The rest of you return to your homes and get what sleep you can. Go on now…this meeting has ended.

Reluctantly, the faeries trickled out of the clearing, murmuring among themselves about the dead princess, who had but a few months before been a guest of theirs. There was also some discussion on the departure of their queen, but this was whispered cautiously, lest Ellvyna overhear their words.

Meanwhile, Neachwyl, followed closely behind by Dynifrich, left to locate his sword. When they were out of hearing of the rest of the assemblage, the knight whirled abruptly on the king. You should not have volunteered to accompany me. I know not yet where I go or how long I will be gone. You have far greater duties to attend to in your own home.

Perhaps, but I did not lie to Ellvyna just now. I have learned many things during my time here, one of which is that friendship and loyalty are greater treasures than all the land and crowns one could possess. You are one of my knights, but beyond that, you are one of my friends. I would no sooner let you traipse off to face danger alone than I would let my own child. Pfenwic must be stopped, and it has occurred to me that if the princess does still live, it would be far better to find her and win this battle with wisdom rather than violence.

Neachwyl nodded, managing a brief smile. My thanks, Your Majesty. I will appreciate the company. Although, I contend we do not need Ellvyna and her escort along to protect us.

I tend to agree, but you know as well as I that once her mind is set, there is no changing it. Indeed, we are fortunate she is allowing us to leave at all. Come, dawn is nearly upon us, and I would imagine we want to get started as soon as possible. The knight concurred, and the two men disappeared beyond the trees, unaware that Ellvyna was smiling from the cover of the shadows.

In short time, the traveling party assembled in the clearing where Neachwyl and Dynifrich had first found themselves after their capture. Ellvyna had cast off her formal gowns in favor of more practical clothing for the journey, now attired in muted browns and grays, as was her guard, so they might not be noticed even by the most observant children. There is something you both ought to know before we depart, she confessed, flanked by five stone-faced kinsmen floating beside her. How long does it seem you have been here with us?

A week, at the most, perhaps less, answered Neachwyl. What do you mean by ‘seem’? How long have we really been here?

Now, remember, it was done for your own safety, my friends.

How long, Ellvyna? the knight asked again, his voice rising.

Near six weeks. It is almost winter.

Six weeks? Dynifrich shouted. How could you do this? What about my troops? Surely they will have missed us by now. A week they might have thought us merely kidnapped for ransom, but after six weeks, they will think…

We are dead, Neachwyl completed, a smile creasing his weary face. They have probably continued the battle without us. Which will work to our advantage now. When the High King gave him a confused look, the knight continued. Of course, it would have been nice to have been told earlier how long we were gone, but I realize Ellvyna knew how upset we would be. Now, however, if our own allies think we are dead, then surely our enemy believes it, which means no one will be looking for us…

Which in turn means we can travel undetected and use the element of surprise, the king completed. Indeed, Wyl. Definitely an advantage.

Ellvyna would have argued their purpose, but at that moment, the trees began to swarm with faeries of all shapes and sizes. Daffwyni appeared in their midst, approaching to explain their presence to a baffled Ellvyna. My Queen, we have never doubted your wisdom in the past, and we do not now. We have discussed this at great length and will be not swayed. The safety of the lands and welfare of the princess concerns us all, thus have we decided to travel with you, to return to the lands and provide what aid we can to save them.

The queen curled the corner of her lip, preparing to debate the point, but upon seeing the determination spread across the faces of her people, she simply smiled. So be it. You will have to remain hidden until your skills are required, but you may come. And if need be, we will engage Pfenwic with some magic of our own.

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Lower your voice, lad, or you might wake her. She needs her rest.

But I saw her move, milord. She blinked, I swear it.

I think you have been staring at her too long…

The voices floated softly across the chasm to Kwyleeana, who was standing on the edge of a cliff with only the force of the words pushing toward her to keep her from falling. She did not know where she was, or how she had come to this precipice, and she crinkled her brow as she pondered.

There, the first voice spoke again. Surely you saw that, milord?

Get the captain, the second voice responded. Now!

Then the voices vanished again. The princess felt a damp breeze press against her cheeks and forehead. She tried to focus on her surroundings, but found them blurred and gray, without definition. Odd, she thought, I have never seen this place before…Surely I would remember how I came to be here. Just then, she saw a glimmer on the other side of the abyss, a bright light against the dim mist. She watched intently as it began to take form. Mother? she called out questioningly, waiting for what seemed an eternity for a response that did not come. Mother! she finally wailed, moving to cross toward the glowing golden figure on the other side.

No, my daughter. Queen Sreena’s voice echoed in the princess’ mind. Do not come to me. Stay where you are.

But, Mother, where am I? How did I get here? Kwyleeana asked, the tips of her boots peeking over the crumbling edge of the cliff. Mother, I feel so alone. Please, why can I not come to you?

A gold mist floated across the rift, enveloping the princess in its shimmering caress. You are not alone, my dear. There are those even now who search for you. You must go to them, daughter.

But I am so tired. I hurt. I want to be with you.

No, Kwyleeana. It is not yet time. You are needed elsewhere. The radiant haze swirled away, the princess shivering in its absence. Fare well, my dearest one. You are our greatest hope. Then the image on the other side sparked once and was gone, leaving Kwyleeana quivering in the wake of its disappearance.

Grab a blanket, man. Cover her, one of the voices shouted, and the princess felt a heavy warmth crush her chest and shoulders. The sudden weight caused her to catch her breath, and as she did, she coughed once. Her ribs ached with the effort, prompting her to look down to discern what was compressing her lungs. Her vision still unclear, she closed her eyes, hoping when she opened them again, her sight might have improved. She struggled with another deep breath, her eyes easing open as she fought the urge to cough once more.

Instead of the elusive cliff and its chasm before her, she found herself in an enclosed chamber, dimly lit by a source she could not pinpoint. Her eyesight was still weak, but she thought she could make out two or three forms gathered close to her, with another standing further away. The room was cool, but not cold, yet most of her body felt warm, aside from her face. She closed her eyes methodically a few times more, until the scene around her clarified.

Welcome back, Princess, the figure closest to her addressed.

She turned her head to find herself peering into sea-green eyes. Captain Brahnyck? she posed, the name floating to her lips from the depths of her memory.

At your service, Your Highness, he returned, his mock bow only partly masking his relief that she had recognized him. It gladdens my heart to see you awake at last. You gave us quite a bit of worry.

She nodded slowly, his words not making any immediate sense to her. I am sorry if I have been any trouble, she answered, deciding it a safe response. Taking another tentative breath, she coughed again, realizing for the first time that she was lying down. She straightened slightly, but found Brahnyck’s strong hand on her shoulder forcing her back to a reclining position.

Hold, Princess. Not so fast. Take it one step at a time.

She noticed now the thick blanket which lay over her, as well as the man at her left who was continually dabbing a damp cloth over her face and neck. Only then did she realize that for some reason she was being treated like an invalid.

For a brief moment she closed her eyes, wondering if perhaps this was simply another layer of her dreams, and she was still sick in her chambers back at the Manorweile castle. Maybe everything floating back to her mind now was merely an extension of this dream. But it had been so real, she told herself, recalling her nights with Neachwyl and Mwershyll, and mostly, with Baelwyn. Suddenly, she lifted her head, her eyes snapping open. One hand began rustling underneath the blanket, searching for its twin. Only upon feeling the reassuringly cool metal of the dragon bracelet at her wrist did she know she was truly awake and in the present.

The long journey from Cantermere, the discovery of Guillam, the tournament in Stonington, and the meeting with Mabyr all came rushing into her consciousness, and she felt slightly woozy under their onslaught. She shifted her hand to locate the Pendant, still suspended on a chain about her neck. Fingering it idly for a moment, she sorted through the memories which were crystallizing in her mind. Yet, try as she might, she could not remember anything after Baelwyn left her on the balcony of her father’s chambers.

She swallowed with difficulty, bringing her gaze back to Brahnyck. Captain, I am afraid I am unclear as to what circumstances brought me here. Where is Baelwyn? What of my father? Is Pfenwic returned to Cantermere?

Slowly, Your Highness, he chuckled in response. You have been through quite a lot, and while I know very few answers to your questions, I will try to help you as much as I can. What do you last remember? he finished, handing her a waterskin to dampen her throat.

Baelwyn, she answered, an unconscious smile gracing her lips. He helped me escape from the tower so I could aid my father. He took me to the balcony, and I asked him to return to spirit me away when I had finished. I remember sitting beside my father to heal him, and then. . .there is nothing.

I fear I can offer little in the way of answers for you, Princess, but I will tell you what we know. Pacing the edges of the chamber, Brahnyck continued. In the past months, there has been a great deal of piracy in these parts, so my crew and I have learned how to sail almost unnoticed in the darkest hours of the day, thus not drawing attention to ourselves or any cargo we may bear. It was in the earliest part of the morning when we saw the other ship approach, and we maneuvered back to maintain a good distance between us, while remaining in view of them to determine their intentions.

He stopped a moment to gaze at the wall, as though he could see through it to the sea beyond. I thought it odd for a vessel during war to travel without a flag stating their allegiance, so I was immediately suspicious. We saw very little of what happened next, only that the ship dropped anchor just long enough to toss some cargo overboard before sailing on toward the coast.

Kwyleeana’s eyes blinked, vivid memories of water encompassing her having sparked to sudden life in her mind. You rescued me?

Brahnyck shrugged. "I wish I could say our intent was that noble. In truth, Princess, we had assumed they