Sir Rowan and the Camerian Conquest (11 page)

“Tell me where Sir Aldwyn lives,” she said as she led their horses down the street in the opposite direction from the one the sentinel had traveled. She rode close to Rowan’s side, trying to keep him upright.

“Go north”—Rowan could hardly form the words—“across the eastern bridge …”

Mariah led them as quickly as possible to the north, skirting much of the city. Twice she was forced to divert to avoid more sentinels. Finally, after what seemed like an agonizingly long ride, they arrived at Sir Aldwyn’s modest home.

Mariah leaned Rowan against the doorpost, then quickly tied the two horses at the back of the home so as not to draw any undue attention. No matter what they found here, this would be the end of their travels tonight, for Rowan was spent.

Mariah returned and knocked on the door. At first it seemed that no one was home, but after a second attempt, the door opened a crack.

“What do you want?” a quavering voice asked from the shadow of the doorway.

“We’re looking for Sir Aldwyn,” Mariah said.

“No one here by that name.” The old woman began to close the door.

Did the entire kingdom change while I was away?
Rowan wondered.

“I am Sir Rowan, a former squire of Sir Aldwyn.” His words were weak and slurred, but they stopped the door from completely closing. After a moment of motionless silence, the old woman spoke softly.

“The work of One saves many,” she said tentatively.

It was an odd statement, and Rowan’s head swam in confusion and frustration. Was this some sort of pass code?

“We are the many,” Mariah quietly replied.

The door opened. “Come in quickly,” the old woman said. Her countenance was serious but not unkind. The creases around her eyes and lips told of tense and anxious days.

Mariah helped Rowan stumble through the door.

“I’m Zetta,” the old woman said, quickly closing the door behind them.

“Thank you, Madam Zetta,” Mariah said. “He needs to lie down.”

“This way.” The woman picked up a lantern and led them down a hallway into a bedchamber. Rowan fell upon the bed and didn’t move.

“There’s another chamber just down the hall for you, young lady,” he heard the elderly woman say.

“Thank you, madam,” Mariah replied. “I’m going to make sure he’s all right before I …”

The words faded away as Rowan drifted to something much deeper than mere sleep.

When Rowan awoke, his body felt pinned to the bed, and he had to look to see if his shackles had reappeared on his ankles and wrists. With each passing moment, however, he started to feel better. He brought himself to a sitting position just as someone knocked on the door.

“Come in,” he called.

“Well, that’s an improvement,” Mariah said as she entered the room. “Are you able to eat something? Zetta has made a delicious breakfast.”

Rowan managed a smile. “That would be wonderful.”

“Shall I bring it to you, or can you make it to the table?”

“I think I can get to the table … with a little help,” he said.

She helped him to his feet, but before they took their first step together, Rowan hesitated. “Mariah, I’ve never needed help from anyone, and I’ve never had anyone take care of me before.”

Mariah looked up at him as if she were waiting for the punch line, but Rowan just gazed gently into her eyes. “Thank you,” he said and felt her arm soften around his waist as they began their careful walk down the hallway and into the kitchen.

At the breakfast table, Rowan felt some of his strength returning. “Madam Zetta, thank you for allowing us into your home.”

“You are welcome, but it is not my home,” Zetta replied. “It is Sir Aldwyn’s.”

“I thought you said—”

“I said he is not here … but the home is still his. He’s asked me to stay behind and help people like you … Resolutes.”

“So, it’s true after all.” Mariah stared at Zetta.

Rowan looked at Mariah, perplexed. “What’s true?”

“My father heard rumors that Kroywen had a new prefect who had dissolved many of the people’s freedoms,” she said. “I had no idea Laos had fallen to the same fate,” Mariah said.

“Yes,” Zetta replied. “Only just recently, though. Sir Aldwyn saw it coming and began preparing. Resolutes began to gather. We must be very careful.”

Rowan stared at Mariah, amazed by something even deeper in her character than he expected. “You knew the pass code,” he said.

Mariah nodded. “From my father. My mother died years ago. Six months ago, when my father and my brother heard what was happening at Kroywen, they went to join the Resolutes—to try to stop the takeover of Cameria.” Mariah stared down at the table. “My father loves this land and the freedom it stands for. He served in the Camerian army before he was a farmer. Nothing could keep him from joining the Resolutes.”

“He left you alone?” Rowan asked bewildered.

“No. Palson and I were to farm the land until my father and brother
returned, but …” Mariah hesitated. “Just two months after my father and brother left, Palson was bitten by a mountain asp. I … I couldn’t save him.”

Zetta reached over and took Mariah’s hands in hers. “I’m so sorry, child.”

Mariah accepted the consolation gratefully. “I have to keep the farm going until they return.” Mariah looked over at Rowan. “When you wanted to go to Laos to recover your estate, I thought it would be an opportunity to see for myself what was really happening.” Mariah shook her head. “It’s much worse than I suspected.”

Rowan took a deep breath and sat back in his chair, trying to put everything together in his head. “Who is doing this to Cameria?” he asked.

“As near as we can tell, much of the influence is coming from Lord Malizimar’s region near Daydelon,” Zetta said.

Lord Malizimar. The name hit Rowan like a brick.

“The marauders who captured me claimed they were supporting Lord Malizimar and his cause.” He put his hand to his head as he tried to piece it all together. “But why?”

“Chessington,” Mariah and Zetta both said at the same time.

“Cameria supports Chessington and the King’s people there. Lord Malizimar hates Chessington and wants to conquer it. Cameria stands in his way.”

“I find it difficult to believe that you were a squire under Sir Aldwyn for so many years and he didn’t tell you these things,” Zetta said with a tone that was nearly a reprimand.

Rowan felt his cheeks flush slightly. “He tried, but I didn’t hear much of it. I was too concerned with learning the sword and how to fight in tournaments.” Rowan rubbed the back of his neck. “Where is Sir Aldwyn now?”

“Sir Aldwyn’s gone to join the Resolutes, too,” Zetta added. “And he’s left me here to help others who will join the cause. Prefect Corsan and his sentinels wouldn’t suspect an old woman like me of doing them any harm or the Resolutes any good, but I have my part and I will play it well!” Zetta’s face gleamed with the confidence and determination of a gallant knight.

Rowan felt small in every way. He had been self-consumed before his capture, and afterward he had been caught up with regaining what he considered rightfully his—while many around him were sacrificing everything to save the freedom of people they didn’t even know. He lowered his gaze to the table and fell silent.

“Are you feeling all right?” Mariah asked.

Rowan looked up at her. “Not really.” He gave her a weak smile. “I think I need to lie down again.”

Mariah rose up to help him. He motioned her away and tried to make it on his own, but he faltered. Mariah reached for him, and he sighed. He was tired of being weak.

“Rowan,” Zetta called as he and Mariah turned toward the hallway. “I don’t think Sir Aldwyn expected you to come here. He was told that you were dead.”

“That would be the lying work of Balenteen, my ex-tournament agent.”

“I should think that Sir Aldwyn would be delighted to see you again someday,” Zetta said with a kind smile.

Rowan remembered their last parting and wasn’t so sure. He just nodded, then turned and shuffled toward his bedchamber, with Mariah’s support. She helped him settle to his bed, checking his forehead for signs of a fever. Rowan looked up at her, feeling rather ashamed for who he was and how he’d lived.

“Palson was a good man, wasn’t he, Mariah?”

Mariah stopped and looked down at him. “He was a very good man. Why do you say so?”

“Because you’re a very good woman.”

Rowan closed his eyes and turned away to slumber. Though his body was weak, something sparked in his spirit that morning. At the table of a courageous old woman and in the company of a gallant young woman, Rowan began to heal, and the call of the Prince began to sound … a call to something noble … and he could think of nothing more noble than the mission of the Resolutes.

MYSTERIOUS KNIGHT

Rowan awoke to a dreadful realization. He got out of bed as quickly as he could, stumbled to the door, and opened it.

“Mariah!” he called, but no one answered.

“Mariah!” he called again.

He heard the back door open, and Mariah appeared at the end of the hallway with a basketful of greens and vegetables. She dropped the basket and hurried to Rowan’s bedchamber, sensing his concern.

“What is it, Rowan?” She offered a shoulder of support.

He shook his head. “How long have I been sleeping?”

“Two hours … perhaps three. Why?”

Zetta was now coming down the hallway.

“We have to leave here immediately,” he said.

“Why, Rowan? What’s wrong?”

“All of us are in danger. Balenteen knew that Sir Aldwyn was my friend. I’m sure he’ll think to have the sentinels investigate his home. I’m surprised they’re not here already.”

Mariah’s eyes opened wide. “I’ll gather our things,” she said—but it was too late.

They all froze at the sound of heavy boots on the kitchen floorboards. A moment later, a massive figure appeared at the end of the hallway.
Though he did not wear a sentinel’s uniform, Rowan was certain he was a leader of the sentinel force. His black leather armor was festooned with bright silver markings. He stood even taller than Rowan, with a physique as muscular as Rowan’s had been during his tournament days. Dark brown hair was pulled back in a short braid at the back of his head, highlighting his olive skin, prominent nose, and jaw line. His hand rested on the pommel of his sword, and his stance nearly spanned the entire hallway.

“Where is Sir Aldwyn?” The man’s voice was urgent, his countenance fierce as he glared at the trio in the hallway.

Rowan stood as straight as he could and stepped past Mariah and Zetta. “I am the one you have come for. Leave them alone,” he said with as much authority as he could muster.

The mighty knight’s eyes narrowed as he strolled toward Rowan. He came within inches of his face, gazing into Rowan’s eyes with fire in his own. He reached up and grabbed Rowan’s neck just below his jaw. Rowan tried to pull away, but he was powerless in the man’s iron grip. Mariah tried to come to Rowan’s aid, but the man just held her at arm’s length while she clawed at his arm.

Surprisingly, the man did not squeeze or attempt to strangle Rowan. Instead, he slowly turned Rowan’s head from one side to the other, as if inspecting him. Rowan held up a hand to tell Mariah to back away, and she halted her fruitless attempt at help. The man looked down at Rowan’s frail form and sneered.