A Path Toward Home (The Annals of Avonea) (4 page)

“Good shot!” A voice came from behind her.

“Oh, you startled me,” Constance replied turning around to see that it was Drinian.

“Sorry.”

“Do you really think it was a good shot?”

“The best I've ever seen, but maybe next time you should hold the bow right side up,” Drinian whispered, as he gently spun the bow upright.

Constance shrugged as she looked down in embarrassment.

“It happened to me once,” Drinian said, smiling.

“The camp looks wonderful,” Woodphere complimented, while holding a bundle of wood in his arms.

“Thank you.”

“Your Majesty, would you happen to have any cocoon oil in your satchel?” Woodphere asked, getting down on his knees to lay the wood on the ground.

“Indeed I do, but please Woodphere, let me make the fire.”

“Alright, Your Majesty, if you insist.”

“You should not be on your knees all the time Woodphere, You are not as young as you once were.”

“Are you implying Your Majesty, that I am an old man?” Woodphere asked, standing up.

“Well...”

“I'll have you know, that I could beat you at any duel.”

“Is that a challenge, Woodphere?”

“Maybe,” Woodphere replied, taking his sword out of his sheath.

“I accept your challenge!” Drinian replied, pulling out his sword.

“What are you two doing?” Constance asked, frowning.

“Dueling!” Drinian replied.

“Is this the way you two entertain yourselves?!”

“Indeed, what else would we do?”

“Do you agree with Drinian, Constance, do you think I am an old man?”

“I did not say that, Woodphere,” Drinian sighed.

“Constance, your answer?”

“It depends, on who wins the duel,” Constance said as her face turned into a sly smirk, walking over to a rock and sitting down to watch.

Swords crashed and clanged together. Woodphere swiftly directed his sword at Drinian’s! With a lunge Drinian promptly knocked the weapon from Woodphere's hand! Woodphere quickly retrieved his sword and swung with all his might at Drinian's feet, who jumped high to avoid the blow. Drinian quickly darted at Woodphere, missing him, and burying his sword in a tree. He pulled on it desperately, but his efforts were in vain. “Do you surrender?” Woodphere asked putting his sword blade to Drinian's chin. Drinian put his hands up in the air and nodded.

“And do you still think I am old and crippled?”

“No, Woodphere, my faithful council.”

“Good, now Constance your decision?”

“Sorry, Drinian, Woodphere has very much proven himself.”

“You are right Constance, Woodphere, did win fair and square.”

Woodphere now had a very proud look on his face and was grinning from ear to ear.

“Alright, Woodphere, I admit you are a better swordsman than I.”

“Well, of course Your Majesty, I have a little more experience than you do.”

“I at least still have one advantage though.”

“And what is that?”

“I still have my hair,” Drinian laughed. 

“I think it's time to build that campfire,” Constance quickly said.

“Well!” Woodphere replied crossing his arms and stalking toward the horses.

“What can I do to help with supper?” Constance asked walking up to Drinian.

“Hmm...Can you cook?”

“Of course, at home I do all the cooking, for my Uncle Blake and Aunt Eleanor.”

“Good, you can help me make supper, but wait, how stupid of me, you are a guest on this trip!”

“But I want to help,” Constance replied.

“No, I insist. Why don’t you practice your archery, but remember to hold the bow correctly.”

“Drinian, I am going to cook!” Constance argued.

“My, your determination is astounding,” Drinian replied, shaking his head. “Are you positive?”

“Of course! How many times do I have to tell you, Drinian, I want to cook!”

“But...”

“No buts! Now what would you like to eat?”

“Whatever you have an appetite for, as long as it's not a combination of berries and meat mixed together.”

“Alright.”

Constance began cooking dried pork, diced carrots, potatoes and celery. She had never cooked over an open fire, and the pan nearly caught fire before they finally sat down to eat

“This pork is so juicy and tender, how did you ever cook it to perfection?” Woodphere asked.

“Please, it is not that good. I'm afraid, the meat is rather burnt.”

“It tastes better at least, than when His Majesty cooks.” Woodphere said cheerfully.

“Woodphere, are you saying that I cannot cook?”

“Well no, Your Majesty. Had you cooked this pork, it would have tasted like rawhide.”

“Ah, well at least you’re not the one that cooked, or I might have died from food poisoning!” Drinian retorted.

“You two, you’re as bad as my twin neighbor boys. I'm sure neither of you cook as bad as you say.”

There was very little conversation for the rest of meal.

“I think, I shall head to bed, thank you for the delightful supper, Constance,” Woodphere said.

“You’re welcome, Woodphere,” Constance replied as Woodphere carried his mat near an old oak tree and prepared to lie down.

“Woodphere, do you have to sleep there, couldn't you sleep farther away, for you snore terribly. It's very distracting when a person is trying to get some sleep.”

“Then I will sleep over there by that little stump.” Woodphere replied, heading in that direction. In a moment he was lying down, and had closed his eyes.

“Woodphere, why are you sleeping with your boots on?” Constance asked.

“If I get killed in my sleep, I'd rather die with my boots on.”

Drinian and Constance winked at each but said nothing.

“Actually, to tell you the truth, it gets rather cold at night, and my boots keep my feet warm, I would advise you to keep your boots on too.”

“I'll do that,” Constance replied.

After supper, Constance went down to a small bubbling creek to wash dishes. The sound of the water trickling over the rocks was very calming in spite of the croaking frog. When she returned to the campsite Drinian was sitting by the fire reading.

“What are you reading?” Constance asked as she put the dishes in Drinian's satchel.

“Oh, a book my father gave me when I was a boy. It's called,
How to be a King and Make Wise Decisions
,” Drinian replied flipping to the next page.

“It sounds very interesting.”

“Yes, it is indeed.”

“Drinian, may I ask you a question?”

“I do not know if I will be able to answer, but I will try,” Drinian replied, laying his book aside.

“Why are you hiding in the woods? I already know that you’re hiding from the Molters, but why exactly are they trying to kill you?”

“It is a long story.”

“I have plenty of time.”

Several minutes passed as Drinian stared into the fire remembering his past.

“My father, killed the King of the Molters,” he murmured, as he put his head down and Constance sat in stunned silence.

“My father King Simian and King Taybayeere were twin brothers who could never agree on anything. When my grandfather died the kingdom was divided. Simian became ruler of Avonea, and Taybayeere of Moltavia. Later, they signed a treaty, to stay off each other’s territory. When Avoneans crossed over to King Taybayeere’s territory, they were imprisoned in his dungeons. He called Molters traitors who crossed over to my father’s territory and would lock them up too.”

“King Taybayeere sounds like a very evil man. What did your father do if a Molter was on his territory?”

“My father was a wise man, and left them alone; unless they caused trouble with an Avonean.”

“So if your father was such a wise man, why did he kill King Taybayeere?”

“King Taybayeere had a daughter, Penella, who often came over to Avonean country to visit my father's distant cousin, Prince Corbin. They met secretly in a cave near my father’s castle, and although my father knew about them meeting, he did not interfere. My father knew how it felt to love someone dearly.”

“My, how could King Taybayeere not know about this?”

“You must wait- you’re getting ahead of the story. Finally one night when Corbin and Penella were preparing to elope, one of King Taybayeere's solders saw her run off into the night and followed her keeping in the shadows of trees and large boulders. When Penella arrived at the meeting place and dashed toward Corbin, the soldier put an arrow through his chest!”

“How terrible!” Constance gasped. “I can't imagine how Penella felt.”

“As soon as King Taybayeere found out from the soldier that Penella had been sneaking out to see Prince Corbin, he blamed it on my father. He said that my father encouraged Corbin to pursue Penella, to drive a wedge between them. In revenge, King Taybayeere planned a secret attack on my father's castle. It was a brutally cold night when the Molters attacked. I was only one and one at the time and was with my father in his chambers, since it was the safest place in the palace. I was standing out on the balcony watching the battle when King Taybayeere crept up from behind and grabbed me by the throat. I knew he was going to kill me, when my father bowled him over and drove a sword through his back, killing him instantly. Hours later one of Taybayeere's soldiers ….”

There was silence for a few moments as Drinian recalled the unpleasant memories of that night.

“The solder killed my father …. Right in front of me,” Drinian finally said, staring into the fire.

“Oh, Drinian! I am so sorry!” Constance replied, with deep feeling.

“When Penella got word, she wanted to make sure that every person in my father’s family was put to death. That’s when Woodphere took me into the woods to hide.”

“Why are the Molters still looking for you? It was so long ago?”

“I do not know, I guess they will never stop until I am dead.”

“So you've been hiding in the woods your entire life?”

“Almost.”

“How did your mother die?”

“She died when I was a baby. She was always sick father said, and one day she caught pneumonia and died a couple days later.”

Constance was starting to get a bit weary, but she wasn't about to tell Drinian.

“I remember your mother Kathryn a little. I know she took good care of me and seemed like a mother. My father loved her, but when he asked her to marry him, she said she loved another. Perhaps you should ask Woodphere about that.”

Drinian and Constance looked over at Woodphere, who was now fast asleep, and snoring contentedly.

“So Constance, tell me about your life?”

“I'm afraid it's not as exciting as your life,” Constance replied.

“I’ve lived with my Uncle Blake and Aunt Eleanor since I was six when my mother was killed shortly after my arrival.”

“Kathryn died?” Drinian asked in shock.

“She died saving a little girl that darted in front of a truck who didn't see her. I don't know whether my father is dead or alive. He left my mother and me to find work in California and we never heard from him again”

“I'm very sorry to hear that, Constance. To think both of us had to experience tragedy so early in life.”

“I think I’m ready to sleep now. Goodnight!” Constance said, getting up.

“Sleep well,” Drinian replied.

Constance walked over to a tree 15 feet away from the camp fire and lie down on her sleeping mat. The ground was cold and hard, and she could scarcely feel the heat from the fire. She pulled her thin blanket up to her ears and curled into a ball.

“Are you warm enough?” Drinian asked who was still sitting by the warm fire.

“I'll survive.”

“Here, let me get you another blanket, I know how cold it gets on a summer night.”

“No, really I'm fine,” Constance replied, sitting up.

“I insist,” Drinian said taking a blanket from his bag. 

“You sure do a lot of insisting, don't you? Besides don't you need it?”

“I have my cloak with me here,” he said, handing Constance a blanket.

“Thank you.”

“See you bright and early.”

With that Drinian went over beside the campfire, and lie down on his mat while Constance snuggled deep into her fine fur blanket and fell fast asleep.

Copper

Constance awoke early the next morning, admiring the stillness and the beauty of nature about her. She watched the sun slowly rise higher and higher in the sky. Since everyone was still asleep, Constance stepped outside and started walking to the east. As she walked, the woods grew thicker, with thorns snagging her dress, and branches whipping against her face. Why Constance kept walking and did not turn back, is not understood. Maybe the peacefulness kept drawing her, or perhaps it was her sense of adventure. As Constance walked deeper into the woods, an eerie feeling overtook her-
like something was stalking her!
Constance quickly glanced over her shoulder to discover a cat-like animal only a few feet behind her. Constance stood frozen with terror!
Maybe it was like the caracal in her mother’s story

“Hello, big kitty,” Constance said bravely.

The caracal hissed, growled and inched closer. As it took a leap toward Constance a man vaulted in front of her. The caracal pounced on him biting and clawing, until the man struggled free and chased it deep into the woods.

Constance was still shaking as she stammered, “Are you alright?”

The young man arose painfully with an obvious limp and turned to face Constance. He looked to be in his early twenties, was tall with blond curly hair and had green eyes

“I am quite alright,” he replied.

“Thank you, for rescuing me Mr....?”

“Copper, just Copper. It isn't every day that I rescue such a pretty young lady. So who might you be an angel?”

Constance, blushing at the compliment replied, “If I were an angel, I think I would be rescuing you. My name is Constance Jones.”

“It is my pleasure to meet you,” Copper said, bowing. “May I ask what a beautiful young lady like you is doing in a dangerous forest?”

“I was taking a walk,” Constance replied.

“This early in the morning?”

“Yes, no one else was up yet, so I decided to take a walk. What are you doing up this early?”