Mistake sighed in frustration and sank to the floor. She put her back to the door and stared into space.
“What is the matter?” asked MistyTrail. “I have never seen you fail to pick a lock before. Is your tool broken?”
“There is nothing wrong with my tool,” grumbled Mistake. “This lock is magically protected. There is no way that I will ever be able to pick it.”
“Then we need another plan,” shrugged MistyTrail. “They will have to open that door some time. We need to figure out what we are going to do when that happens.”
Mistake rose and crossed the room. She bounced down on the bed next to MistyTrail and sighed again.
“It will likely be Karaza that opens the door,” Mistake said. “He will be well shielded. Just what do you think we can do?”
“We still have our knives,” MistyTrail pointed out. “Maybe his shields will not offer him physical protection?”
“So we kill him with knives and then run for the exit of the prison in the middle of Morada?” Mistake asked sarcastically. “I am sure that will work just fine.”
“This is not like you,” frowned MistyTrail. “You never give up. You never stopped searching for me until you found me. We will find a way out. Let’s think about it.”
“I am not sure exactly how much trouble we are in,” replied Mistake. “We might be in very serious trouble, or it is possible that someone will figure out that we didn’t really mean to hurt the queen. It would be great if we could sneak out of here, but killing a guard or Karaza will certainly mean trouble. If we must kill someone, we have to be positive that we can complete our escape, or we will just make things worse.”
* * *
The squad of elven soldiers marched through the city of Morada. In the center of the mass of brown uniforms was a hooded prisoner with his hands bound together and a large pack upon his back. The citizens turned and watched the small procession go by, wondering who was being taken to prison and what offense he might have committed. While such an escort was not a normal sight in Morada, it only held the citizens’ attention briefly before they returned to gossiping about the return of the lost princesses.
The squad of soldiers marched briskly in formation. Only the most astute observer would notice that the prisoner was keeping cadence, and even then it would be assumed that the prisoner was a soldier turned bad.
The column approached the prison and halted outside the door. The officer leading the column stepped forward to address the four sentries standing guard at the door of the prison.
“Tamar,” greeted one of the sentries, “it is not often that we see you here. You must bring a most dangerous one for us today.”
“Indeed we do,” Tamar said seriously. “We have a rogue mage that has already killed a number of my fellow soldiers.”
“Well,” replied the sentry, “we will make sure that he is housed in the mage wing.”
“No,” retorted Tamar, “I will make sure that he is housed in the mage wing. No offense to you or your men, but I am personally responsible for this criminal. I will not relinquish control of this fiend until I personally see him put in his cell. My men will accompany me.”
While the deviation from normal procedures raised a few eyebrows, none of the sentries were bold enough to deny the high-ranking officer his request. Two of the sentries opened the doors to the prison and held them while Tamar marched his men into the building.
Tamar had been to the prison on many occasions and knew the way to the mage wing. There were numerous guards within the corridors and the cell areas. They all knew Tamar by sight and many of them greeted him as he passed by. When they reached the mage wing, the two soldiers on guard duty looked questioningly at the approaching column of soldiers. Tamar called his column to a halt as the two guards approached.
“What have we here?” asked one of the guards.
“A most dangerous villain,” replied Tamar. “Which of the cells are currently occupied?”
“We have many empty mage cells,” replied the guard. “We will find a nice one for him.”
“He does not merit a nice cell,” retorted Tamar with a hint of distaste for the prisoner. “I asked which cells were occupied. I will choose the cell that this prisoner occupies.”
The guards’ faces creased with confusion. All of the mage cells were the same. One guard shrugged his indifference while the other pointed to the girls’ cell. Tamar walked past the two guards, causing them to turn around to see what he was doing. When Tamar suddenly halted and turned around again to face the two guards, he had a broad smile on his lips.
“I am sorry to cause you this inconvenience,” Tamar shrugged, “but I am sure in time you will come to understand the necessity of it. I need two cells opened, the one that is occupied, and another. Hand me the keys, please.”
By captivating the attention of the guards, Tamar had allowed his men to be placed behind them. Knives suddenly appeared at the throats of the two guards. One of the guards extended his arm slowly towards Tamar. In his hand was a ring with two keys. Tamar took the ring of keys.
“There are only two keys,” the guard said anxiously, “one for the mage cells, and one for the other cells. The larger one is for the mage cells. Why are you doing this?”
“Because Alahara and Alastasia do not belong in cells,” Tamar stated as he unlocked an empty cell. “You will not be harmed unless you try to stop us. Get in the cell.”
The knives at the throats of the guards were removed and the guards slowly stepped into the cell. One of the guards turned towards Tamar after he entered.
“Who are Alahara and Alastasia?” he asked. “Our only prisoners are the foreign girls.”
“They are the lost princesses,” declared Tamar as he closed the door and locked it.
Tamar walked to the door of the girls’ cell and inserted the key. He waved to his men to hug the wall before he turned the key and unlocked the door. Then he backed away from the door and waited.
Inside the cell, Mistake and MistyTrail became instantly alert when they heard the key in the lock. Mistake dashed for one side of the doorway while MistyTrail dashed to the other. The princesses waited for the door to open. Several long seconds passed and nothing happened. Mistake frowned at MistyTrail. MistyTrail shook her head and shrugged. More seconds slowly expired and still nothing happened.
Slowly, Mistake’s hand rose to the door. She pulled slightly on it and felt it move. She froze and waved for MistyTrail to get behind her. MistyTrail crept past the doorway and crouched behind Mistake.
“I am going to open it,” Mistake whispered. “Be ready to move when I do.”
MistyTrail nodded, but Mistake did not see her. She was already tensing to throw the door open. In a burst of speed, Mistake threw the door open and dove into the corridor. She rolled across the floor and came up in a crouch with a knife in each hand. MistyTrail swiftly moved to occupy the doorframe. She also held a knife in each hand. Tamar stood against the wall. He was grinning broadly.
“Tamar?” gasped Mistake. “Why are you here?”
“To rescue the princesses,” he grinned. “Let’s get back inside the cell. You have to change clothes.”
Mistake looked past Tamar at the squad of soldiers lined up along the wall. Tamar saw the concern in her gaze.
“These men are loyal to me,” Tamar said as he waved the prisoner forward.
The prisoner’s hood had already been removed and his hands untied. Without the hood and bindings, he looked like any other soldier. He unslung the large pack on his back and handed it to Tamar. Tamar handed it to Mistake.
“Put these uniforms on and hurry,” ordered Tamar. “We have already been in here too long for my liking. Put your own packs into the big one. We will straighten it all out after we are outside the city.”
Mistake dashed into the room. She dared not close the door, but Tamar stood in the doorway with his back to the girls. They swiftly changed their clothes and stuffed their packs into the large pack.
“We are ready,” Mistake said as she and MistyTrail exited the room and handed the pack to Tamar.
“Good,” Tamar replied as he signaled for his men to form two columns. “I hope you have some ability for marching in formation. I like my columns to look sharp. Get in the middle of the columns.”
The girls ran and inserted themselves into the columns. Tamar closed the door to their cell and marched to the front of the columns. He nodded to his men and the columns marched for the exit. They passed through the regular cellblock and the corridors leading to it. They reached the exit from the prison and two guards held the doors for them. As the column marched out of the prison, one of the guards called out to Tamar.
“Why are you taking his pack out with you?” asked the guard.
Tamar separated from the column as he signaled for them to continue marching.
“I considered it too dangerous to leave with him,” Tamar replied to the guard.
Another guard tapped the first guard’s arm and pointed at the column leaving the prison grounds.
“There were only ten plus a prisoner and the officer when they entered,” he said excitedly. “Now there are fourteen of them.”
The four guards tensed and drew their swords. Tamar shouted to his men as he turned and ran for his life. A whistle blew somewhere behind Tamar, and he knew that word would spread quickly. Soon the streets of Morada would be filled with soldiers searching for the treasonous column of soldiers. He looked over his shoulder and saw that his pursuers were not as physically fit as he was. Already their mouths were open, gasping for air, while Tamar felt as if the race had not yet begun. He caught up to his column of men and shouted terse orders.
The two columns immediately split up, each going in a different direction. Tamar continued to run straight ahead and dashed into an alleyway. He paused for a moment to catch his breath and see what his pursuers would do. The four guards stopped and gazed in both directions. One of the guards took command of the others. He started shouting orders and pointing. Tamar frowned at the shouted orders. While the prison guards were out of shape, they were not dim-witted. Instead of following either of the two columns, they were alerting the city guard. Within minutes the city would be shut down. Tamar knew he had to move quickly. He turned and ran for the rendezvous point.
The city of Morada was not a walled city. Lush forests surrounded it with well-worn paths leading to the outlying villages. At the edge of the city was a very old wooden house. The sole occupant of the house was an ancient woman who had no eyeballs, a result of magic gone awry. She lived in solitude, never wandering out except to harvest her garden. If she had any neighbors, they would have thought it strange to see a dozen soldiers open the door and file into her house.
The blind woman heard the door open and listened intently to the sounds of footsteps crossing her threshold. She walked into the kitchen and took a spare mug off the shelf. She moved with precision steps in the small kitchen and took a pot of boiling tea off the fire. She carried the pot and the cup into the main room of the small house and set it on the table.
“I only have one spare cup for the tea,” the old woman said. “I am afraid that you will have to share.”
Another set of footsteps crossed the room after closing the door. He smiled at the old woman even though it was obvious that she could not see him.
“Thank you, Gamara,” said Tamar. “I am sorry that we had to intrude like this on your solitude, but I am grateful that you have allowed us to.”
“Are they among you?” asked Gamara.
“They are,” replied Tamar as he took Mistake and MistyTrail by the arms and led them towards the old woman. “I do not know which is which,” he added as he took the old woman’s hands and placed them on the shoulders of Mistake and MistyTrail, “but Alahara and Alastasia stand before you.”
“Kaltara bless you both,” smiled the old woman as her hands ran up the faces of the girls, memorizing their features. “Twins they are. I can feel it.”
“Has Garl arrived?” asked Tamar.
“Not yet,” replied Gamara. “He will be by soon. He always keeps his word.”
“You are Garl’s sister?” asked MistyTrail. “He mentioned you to us when we lived with him in the village.”
“That I am,” nodded Gamara. “And he told me of you two when he visited the city to search the royal vaults. I am so thrilled that you have returned. I just wish that Avalar was alive to see it.”
MistyTrail frowned at the old woman, her mind searching her memory banks to find what was suddenly gnawing at her.
The door opened again and then closed. Garl entered and crossed the room. He hugged his sister and kissed her cheek.
“I told you he would be here soon,” smiled Gamara.
“The whole city is in search of this column of soldiers,” commented Garl as he broke the embrace. “It is only a matter of time before they realize who was smuggled out of the prison.”
Tamar turned to face his men. “I am forever indebted to you men,” he said. “You have accomplished a great deed today by freeing the lost princesses from prison. I can ask no more of you. I release each of you to return to your stations so that you are not hunted down by the army.”
“Our faces have already been seen,” replied Fengri. “It would be foolish of us to return to our posts now.”
“Some faces may indeed be remembered,” nodded Tamar, “some may not. It is up to each man to weigh the consequences of his actions from this point forward. I fully expect to be hunted down and executed. I will not think ill of any man who chooses not to stay with me, for to do so invites almost certain death.”
“I would not have come this far if I did not believe in you and the lost princesses,” declared Lortar. “I am with you to the end.”
Ripples of agreement spread through the soldiers, but Garl stopped it by raising his arms above his head.
“Even if you decide to stand against the army that will come,” stated Garl, “the princesses will not be staying. They must begin their search for the lost king. They must leave Elvangar.”
“We plan to leave by ship,” interjected Mistake. “I would like someone who knows how to sail to accompany us. I have tried sailing and failed at it.”
“I will take you wherever you want to go,” promised Tamar.
“Then you men should know that they might stand alone against the army,” nodded Garl. “Are you men still enthused to give up your lives?”
“Tamar and the princesses are not yet on the ship,” replied Fengri. “I would not like to see them fail because I was fearful of my life. Count me in.”
“And me,” added Lortar. “To return to my post is to forfeit my life. I will take my chances in the jungle until the princesses return.”
The rest of the soldiers added their agreeing voices to chorus. Tamar smiled and the men and nodded.
“Now all we have to do is steal a ship,” declared Tamar.
“We know where a ship is hidden,” offered Mistake. “We have to get to Alamanda.”
“Through Etta is the best path,” declared Garl. “That may well be one of the first places the army searches.”
“Then we should move out quickly,” declared Tamar. “Speed will be our defense against capture.”
“Avalar?” MistyTrail suddenly asked as she came out of her trance. “Did you say Avalar?”
“Yes,” nodded Gamara. “That was the king’s name. Your father was King Avalar.”
“Not was,” MistyTrail said excitedly. “Is. Avalar is alive.”
“I knew it,” Garl said triumphantly. “I was sure that I would have felt his death. How do you know he is alive?”
“I saw him,” replied MistyTrail. “He is on the Island of Darkness.”
“What are you talking about?” frowned Mistake. “We never saw him on the Island of Darkness. I would remember.”
“You did not see him,” replied MistyTrail. “Do you remember when Eltor posed as a Motangan soldier and marched us through the prisoner cages?”
“How could I forget?” Mistake shivered as she recalled the episode.
“In the very last cell was a single male elf,” explained MistyTrail. “He was by himself, but he was different than the rest of the prisoners. He was calm and at peace with himself. It was as if his imprisonment had not affected his demeanor.”
”I do remember you mentioning a strange elf in the last cage,” frowned Mistake, “but that is quite a leap to assume that it was our father.”
“Granted,” nodded MistyTrail, “but he spoke to me. He said but a single word, and I did not understand what he was trying to tell me. That single word was Avalar. He said it so calmly and self assuredly. I guess any other elf would have immediately known what he was saying, but I was not from Elvangar. I hope he did not despair from my lack of understanding.”
“Then we must return to the Island of Darkness,” Mistake swallowed hard.
“Yes,” MistyTrail nodded nervously. “It is a journey that does not cause me great joy, but we will rescue our father or die trying.”
“It is time for you to flee,” interrupted Garl. “Take your men out the back, Tamar. Always keep the princesses protected.”
“You are not coming?” asked Mistake.
“No,” answered Garl. “There is work for me yet in Morada. Volox, Anija, and the boys are in danger. I am the only one who can help them. Leave now, and I will do what I can to slow down your pursuers.”
Tamar nodded and ordered his men to get ready. Fengri opened the front door and gazed out. He signaled that the way was clear. Mistake hugged Garl goodbye, while MistyTrail gently kissed Gamara’s cheek. In moments the group was outside the small house and entering the forests along a well-beaten path.
Garl followed the group at a distance. When they finally rounded a bend and passed out of sight, the old man raised his arms in a magical dance. As his hands swayed back and forth, buds erupted through the hard packed soil of the trail. Long stalks followed the buds, and soon the entire pathway and the floor of the forest around it erupted into dense foliage. Garl continued his magical spell as the thicket spread in every direction. When he was done, Garl smiled in satisfaction. Whether the army detoured around the thicket or tried to cut through it, they would waste over an hour. Garl turned and strode towards the city center.
He passed dozens of soldiers searching every nook and cranny of the city. They searched every alleyway and left sentries on every corner as they tried to close the city down.
* * *
“That is all she said?” asked Volox. “Release the spell?”
“Well,” hemmed the guard, “it was a little more than that, but it made no sense.”
“This Council will determine if it makes sense of not,” retorted Volox. “Tell us exactly what she said.”
The guard nodded and answered, “She said ‘Stop it. Release the spell. You are hurting our mother.’”
“You are hurting our mother?” echoed Volox.
“So the foreigners are deranged,” snapped Malid. “That does not excuse their behavior.”
“No,” countered Volox as he took the scroll out and passed it to the elder next to him, “but maybe this will explain the words used.”
“What is that?” asked Malid angrily. “What is in that scroll?”
“Read it aloud,” Volox urged the elder who held it.
The elder read the entire scroll. Many of the elders were shocked to hear the words, others frowned in confusion as they wondered what they were listening to.
“What is the nature of that scroll?” asked Amber. “Is this something that you made up as a joke? This is not a trivial matter that we are dealing with.”
“It is one of the later Prophecies of Kieran,” declared Volox. “It is a copy of course, but you can verify it against the original with the queen’s permission.”
“But we already know that we are in the Time of Calling from our research on the earlier Prophecies,” frowned one of the elders. “If this is truly coming to pass, then those foreign girls really are the lost princesses. We cannot possibly execute them until we learn the truth of this matter.”
“That is exactly my point,” Volox readily agreed.
A solider opened the door and stepped into the room. Malid turned to him with scorn etched on his face.
“This Council is in session,” scowled Malid. “Remove yourself immediately.”
“I came to alert you to potential violence,” declared the soldier. “People are gathering in the street demanding to see the lost princesses.”
“What?” snapped Malid. “They must be dispersed immediately. Where is the army to control the mobs?”
“The army is busy sealing the city,” answered the soldier. “There has been an escape from the prison.”
“An escape?” Volox asked innocently. “Who has escaped?”
“I heard it was the two foreign girls,” answered the soldier. “I heard that Tamar is responsible for the escape. I am sorry to have to tell you that.”
“Get out,” Malid shouted at the soldier. “You, too,” he added to the guard who had been called as a witness.
Both men scurried out of the room, but they left the door open. Malid stood steaming as he glared at Volox.
“This whole meeting has been delayed by you,” accused Malid. “You have stalled at every turn to give your son time to free the prisoners. You are an accomplice to the assassination attempt on Queen Alycia. You shall hang alongside the girls when they are captured.”
“I have been doing my civic duty to make sure that you did not rush blindly into executing the lost princesses,” Volox defended himself. “In fact, that is exactly what you would have done, never knowing that you were destroying the Prophecies of Kieran.”
“That does not excuse your actions,” retorted Malid. “You are guilty of treason. Hanging you will have no effect on the Prophecies of Kieran. Besides, I am willing to bet that this scroll is a forgery. I do not know what game you are playing at, but it is over. You shall hang before the day is over.”
“Why should we wait for the hangman?” snarled Karaza as he entered the room through the open door. “The scroll is definitely a forgery. I think such extraordinary treason deserves and extraordinary death,” he sneered as his arm rose menacingly and pointed at Volox.