The Heir (10 page)

“And how exactly do we execute this
ludicrous plan without wiping out the Kingdom of Mirstone in the
process?” Cadman growled.

“We set the men to digging firebreak
trenches.” Baylin pulled out a map of the land and laid it on the
table. “Separate the camp and villages from the forest.” He pointed
to the areas as he spoke. “As the fire spreads up the mountainside,
it will burn until it reaches the snowcaps.”

“So then what, my Prince?” a furry,
grey-haired general grumbled. “We wait for them to burn?”

“Yes,” Baylin said with confidence. “And
those that don’t will have nowhere to go but down. They cannot
possibly survive the frigid temperatures farther up the mountain.
The fire will take them or we will cut them down, should they try
to flee. We have them right where we need them in order to destroy
them for good.”

There was some mumbled discussion among the
group of old men. Baylin looked to Ferric, who gave him a
reassuring nod.

The Prince finally interrupted the
discussions. “My Lords, this will work. I am your leader, your
future King. If you cannot trust my judgment on the battlefield,
how can you say you trust me to one day rule our great
Kingdom?”

“How indeed?” Lord Cadman mumbled under his
breath.

Baylin glared at his uncle then turned his
attention to the rest of the men. “What say you? Do you want to be
written into history as the men who sat back and idly waited for
the troll filth to leave? Or are you going to be the men who took
up arms and obliterated the troll hordes from these lands once and
for all?”

The generals, excluding Cadman, boomed in
agreement at Baylin’s words.

“My Prince,” Ferric said, standing up.
“Allow me to instruct the men to start on the trenches at
once.”

“Yes, thank you, my friend.” Baylin gave
Ferric a strong pat on the shoulder to send him on his way.

As the men filtered out of the tent, only
Cadman remained behind. “You really think burning them out is going
to…”

“Your Grace,” said a young man as he entered
the tent in a hurry. “Apologies, I have a letter from her Grace,
Queen Valasca.”

“Give me that.” Cadman walked over to the
boy, attempting to grab the parchment from his extended hand.

“I’m sorry, my Lord Cadman,” the boy said,
pulling his hand back. “I have been instructed that it is to be
placed in Prince Baylin’s hand, and his alone.”

Cadman glared at the boy and looked at
Baylin. “I have a right to any news from the Kingdom.”

Baylin walked over to the boy and took the
letter. “Thank you, son. Go get yourself some food and return later
for my reply.”

The boy scampered off as Baylin turned to
face his uncle. “This is my Kingdom, and you will learn your
place.”

Cadman’s face turned red as his anger grew,
however Baylin knew his uncle was too much of a coward to challenge
him.

“My Prince.” Cadman gave a deep, exaggerated
bow, then left the tent, kicking a wood trunk as he went.

Baylin gripped the letter and strode out of
the tent into the camp. Everything around him reeked of war and was
a constant reminder of how far away from home he was.

He was not sure what the letter would tell
him, but he feared to read it.
Is Father worse or even dead? Is
Luana unwell? Is Grasmere also under siege?
The thoughts spun
in his head. He mounted his horse and galloped out of the camp. His
days had been filled with violence and the never-ending stench of
death.
I intend to receive whatever news the letter holds in
peace and silence.

As he rode, he spotted an uprooted tree that
had been taken over by honeysuckle blossoms. The fragrance filled
the air and it reminded him of Luana. Dismounting his horse he
turned it loose, allowing it to graze on the succulent green grass
that seemed to be absent in the dusty camp. He walked over and sat
down on the soft grass, leaning his back against the trunk of the
tree. He slid his thumb under the paper lip, breaking the blue wax
seal that had been placed to ensure no one else had read what was
inside.

Baylin opened the letter to find word from
his mother, along with another sealed letter within.

His mother’s letter read:

Baylin,

Your father continues to battle for his life
against his ailment. He is strong, but I do not think he will be
able to defeat this enemy. My son, you must prepare yourself, this
will take his life, though when, I do not know.

I have been to see Luana. The child grows
daily, and she has begun to struggle. He will most certainly be
strong like his father. She worries for you, as do I.

Enclosed you will find a letter from her. I
do not know what she has said, but I can tell you this, she loves
you, my son. Do not give up hope.

Mother

He could almost hear his mother’s voice as
he read the letter in his hands. She had always been the one to
encourage him to follow his heart. And he knew she was telling him
to do so now.

He broke the wax seal on the letter from
Luana and read it as he fought the hot tears that wanted to fall.
He longed to have her in his arms again. He wanted to kiss her and
tell her there was nothing to forgive. He wanted to see his son
being brought into the world. He wanted to have Luana as his one
and only wife. However, it all seemed so far away from him. He was
here on the battlefield, and he did not know if he would succeed.
His biggest fear was that he would leave his son fatherless and
that he would never again be able to tell Luana he loved her.

The Prince knew, however, that freedom came
at a price, and he refused to have his son come into a world filled
with war and uncertainty.
I cannot think on these things now. I
must finish this.
He mounted his horse and galloped back to
camp.

A month had passed in a blur and the time
Prince Baylin planned to attack had arrived. Though the sun had yet
to kiss the horizon, the early morning birds had begun their song
as they hunted the field for insects. Like morning bell ringers,
their delicate chirps and songs announced daybreak was upon
them.

The camp had worked tirelessly preparing to
execute Prince Baylin’s plan. Ditches dug wide around the perimeter
of the forest at the base of the mountain ensured the flames would
follow the intended path—away from camp and up the mountainside.
The smiths sharpened weapons and repaired armor for battle. Baylin
felt they could not be more ready. With the new moon a mere two
days away and the element of surprise on their side, now was the
time to strike.

The restless Baylin did not sleep most of
the night, lying awake in wait for dawn and the attack. With the
sunrise coming from the east, the fire would be cloaked by the
morning rays. Most of the trolls would be burrowed in caves or
holes within the mountain. They would be taken unaware.

Baylin stepped out of his tent to survey the
camp. The morning was crisp and cool at the foot of the mountain.
Glistening dew blanketed the grass beneath his feet, and the chill
in the air caused a light fog to form from each breath he took.

His great black horse stomped its foot at
the sight of him, anxious to stretch its legs and run. He walked
over and patted the steed’s strong, muscular neck. “Soon, boy.”

The sky began to lighten ever so slightly on
the eastern horizon, turning a deep purple nearest him. He saddled
his mount. Once the sky turned dark shades of pink and red, the
large encampment started to buzz with movement of soldiers and
horses.

“Prince Baylin,” Ferric called out as he
strode up to him wearing full battle armor. The Keld men were
always clad in fine silver chainmail. Over that they wore thick
boiled leather armor to protect them from the blunt weapons the
trolls carried.

“Ferric,” Baylin replied, hoisting his
saddle upon his horse’s back. “Are the men assembled?”

“Yes, Your Grace,” Ferric answered. “Your
plan is ready for action at your command.”

Baylin paused at the words.
My plan. It
is my design—succeed or fail. This will either result in bringing
me back into Luana’s arms, or my men and I will be slaughtered and
my Kingdom will fall, leaving my son fatherless.
The weight of
the thought hung heavier than any armor.

Baylin attended to the cinch on the saddle
when Lord Cadman came sauntering up. “Baylin, are you ready to lead
these men to their deaths should this folly plan fail?”

Ferric stepped into Cadman’s space. “You
need to learn how to speak to your future King.”

“And you need to learn your place, Ferric,”
Cadman said through clenched teeth.

“Enough!” Baylin commanded. “I have had
enough of these games you play, Uncle. Your concerns should be for
the Kingdom. What happened to the man I used to look up to as a
child? Where did that man go?”

Cadman glared at Baylin then walked off
without another word.

“Baylin,” Ferric whispered. “Are you ready
for this?”

The Prince looked at his friend, the fine
lines of his face wrinkled up around his eyes. “Do you fear this
will not work?”

“Not at all,” Ferric retorted. “I have every
faith in your plan. It’s only that there is no guarantee we will
all make it out alive. The trolls outnumber us three to one.”

“My friend, any one of us is worth ten of
them.” Baylin put a strong hand on Ferric’s shoulder. “This will
succeed, I promise you.”

This will succeed.
Baylin repeated
the words again in his own head.
This will succeed.
Perhaps
he needed to think it to help him believe it was true. Yes, these
men were seasoned, war-hardened warriors. They had grown up
training for a day such as today. However, the truth was Baylin did
not know how it would end.

Ferric nodded to the Prince and made his way
across the camp to finish preparing for the battle.

As Baylin went back to saddling his horse,
he noticed a movement by the side of his tent. A cloaked figure
used the trees as cover as it crept toward the tent. At first, he
thought it could be one of his men, but then he caught a glimpse of
silvery flowing hair slide out from under the hood of the cloak.
Luana? It can’t be.
He watched as the shadow quickly sneaked
from the side of the tent and slipped inside.

“Luana?” Baylin called out as he ran to his
tent. He threw the flap of his tent open, storming inside the
darkened room. “Luana? My love, where are you?”

In the dim morning light, the Prince could
barely make out the shape of the pale-haired phantom standing next
to his desk.

“Luana,” Baylin spoke to the shadowy
visitor. “How have you come?”

With a quick turn and a flash of glistening
hair, she revealed glowing sky blue eyes beneath her hooded cloak.
“She is not here, Prince of Grasmere.”

“Who are you?” Baylin demanded, taking large
steps to close the distance between him and the woman. “Why are you
here? What do you know of her?”

“Be calm, Your Grace,” the woman said as she
reached her fingertip out to an unlit candle and brought it to
flame in an instant. “I am here to help.”

Shock caught in Baylin’s throat. Unable to
speak, his eyes flashed from the candle to the woman’s
almond-shaped eyes. She removed her hood, revealing a long mane of
moonlight white hair that fell around her pale face. Her eyes
glowed pale blue as she slid the silken strands of hair behind her
pointed ears.

“You’re… you’re of the elf realm,” Baylin
whispered as he dropped to his knee in reverence. “You honor
me.”

The elf maid stepped forward, placing a
delicate finger under his chin to turn his gaze to her. “Please
rise, son of Ashmur, I have little time to spare.”

Baylin rose to his feet, sensing the urgency
in her softly spoken words. “Why have you come?”

“There is a great evil upon the land. Deep
sorcery is being used to give it strength,” she explained. “It will
start here, in the lands of Mirstone with the troll hordes, but it
will not end here.”

The words caused Baylin’s heart to sink.
“Then you mean to say that we will not succeed?”

“Not on your own,” the woman’s expression
softened. “This is why I have been sent to help.” She pulled a
black velvet bag out from under her cloak and handed it to Baylin.
It was not overly large, but the contents felt far heavier than
they should. “Take the dust of the flagro flower and sprinkle it on
the arrows before you light them afire. That will ensure the fire
burns hot up the mountainside as you have planned.”

The Prince made eye contact with the elf
maid. “What do you know of my plans?” The idea of anyone other than
his men knowing caused him a great amount of unease.

“Do not fret, Your Grace. I assure you, the
elf realm is not your enemy,” she said calmly. “We want nothing
more than your plans to succeed.” She raised one eyebrow and spoke
firmly. “All of your plans.”

The look the woman gave him left Baylin
feeling exposed, as though she could see every thought he had ever
possessed. Though everyone knew that elves existed, they were a
mysterious and magical culture that was rarely ever encountered.
However, it was told they had great powers, including those of both
foresight and thought projection.

The Prince pulled himself from his thoughts
as he recalled something she had said. “You stated it began here
but would not end here. What do you mean? What sorcery do you speak
of?”

The elf pulled out another small parcel
wrapped with lush green leaves. “These herbs can give you the
elves’ power of foresight, though only temporarily. Brew a pot of
tea and drink the contents, the herbs will show you the truth you
need to know.”

“It will show me how to defeat the troll
hordes?” Baylin asked, taking the leaf-wrapped clump of herbs.