I woke up as we struck a particularly large bump, and the jolt brought me back to my senses. My head pounded, and I pressed one of my hands to the lump only to find both wrists encircled in heavy manacles. I blinked and looked around, realizing at once that I was in a carriage of some sort, probably drawn by a team of black horses, and we were moving quickly along a rough trail. I was still wearing the blue dress Damaeon had given me, and judging by its condition, it appeared that I was thrown about during my unconsciousness. There were several tears in the fabric, and the entire dress was covered in dust and mud. I wrinkled my nose in distaste. A water canteen was shoved towards me.
“Drink,” a voice commanded.
The interior of the carriage was dark, the thick curtains drawn over the tiny windows. I squinted through the gloom and saw a pair of twinkling eyes, and an arm that held the water. As I took the canteen, I thought the person offering was familiar.
“Roric?” I said hoarsely after taking a long drink.
The man leaned forward. Roric was exactly as I remembered him, although his expression was worn. He managed a slight smile and motioned for me to drink more. I did so, enjoying the cool sensation of the liquid down my throat.
“What’s going on?” I asked. “Where are you taking me?”
“The Tower,” Roric replied, ignoring my first question. “Commander Mattis has arranged for you to be kept there, for your own safety.”
“My safety?” I snapped. “I was safe in Oponoe, with Prince Damaeon. Why did you take me from there?”
I winced and lowered my voice, the sound of my own shouting hurting my sore head. Roric shook his head.
“You’ve grown, little sheep,” he said. “No longer lost, are you? Have you found your way?”
I sighed. Clearly I was a prisoner, and there was little arguing could do for me now. I sat back against the soft cushions of the carriage and thought for a moment. Clothis had been outside my door. Did she hear me scream? Had I screamed? I would be missed at dinner, but would Damaeon risk an assault on the Huryl just for me? Then there was Fynn. I had nearly forgotten about him. Was he all right, or lying dead in the forest where I had left him? A tear slid down my cheek and I raised a chained hand to wipe it away.
“Why were you with the Dyrel?” Roric asked after several minutes. His voice was pained, as if I had broken a trust.
I blinked at him. “They rescued me from your men, when you tried to kill me.”
He flinched at the accusation. “We weren’t trying to kill you. We were trying to save you from the Woodwalker and the spirits. We saw them take you away into the forest, so we followed.”
“I suppose that was Mattis’ order too?”
“No. Mine. I – I didn’t want to see any harm come to you, Leila.”
“But you’re locking me in a tower?”
“For your protection,” Roric insisted. “The Dyrel are evil. I told you they started this war. They raided our villages, and when we retaliated, they accused us of stealing! Their country is mostly mountains. All they want is our farmland, the land my family’s been on for generations!”
I had seen maps of Dyrel in Damaeon’s study, and Roric was right. A large portion of the Dyrel lands were mountains, but the Prince hardly seemed the type to go to war over agriculture. He had mentioned something precious to the Elven Queen had been stolen, but had not said what. I shook my head.
“The King will want to see you,” Roric was saying. “Everyone is calling you the Promised Child of the Dyrel, and the King will want to know if you can fulfill our prophecy too.”
“You have a prophecy?” I repeated. Did everyone have mystical guidance except me?
Roric nodded. “I don’t remember the details. The King will talk to you about that.”
“Does it have to do with governing trials?”
Roric blinked. “What?”
“Never mind.”
The carriage continued on its way. I dozed for a bit, and Roric woke me twice to give me some food, but little more was said during our journey. Finally, as the sun was setting, the carriage lurched to a halt and the doors opened. I tried to shield my eyes against the glow of the setting sun, but someone roughly pulled me out and I fell to the ground. The weight of the chains was almost unbearable as I was dragged across as stone courtyard towards a large wooden door. I glanced up and saw the main building was a tower, and it was at least five stories tall. I wondered if I would be imprisoned on the top, and have to grow my hair to let my prince rescue me.
Roric walked a step ahead of me and presented the guards with a few papers. They looked them over briefly and nodded. Roric stepped aside and my escorts tossed me through the door. I looked over my shoulder to see Roric’s eyes on me, full of sadness. The wooden doors shut with a finite thud and I turned to face my captors.
“Leila, isn’t it?” a man with a slick voice asked.
He looked like a snake that had grown arms and legs. His black hair was shiny and slicked back, and his nose long and pointed. He was incredibly skinny and well dressed, his limbs impossibly long. He looked down his nose at me as I knelt at his feet.
“Well, my lady,” he said the title with a sneer, “I’m not to harm you while you’re here. A pity. My torture master has been eagerly awaiting fresh meat. The penthouse should do nicely, hmm? I’ll have the maid bring up fresh linens.”
He laughed and turned, motioning over his shoulder for the guards to take me away.
“Wait,” I called.
The snake man paused, but did not turn.
“The King will be coming to see me,” I said bravely. “If you mistreat me, he’ll hear about it.”
The man’s shoulders dropped as if he had been deflated. He spun around on his heel and glared at me with angry eyes. I remained standing firmly where I was, although inside I recoiled from the intensity of the stare.
“Fine,” he snarled. “Give her the lord’s room. Check it for rats, then seal the princess inside.”
He gave me a mock bow and stormed away. I smiled to myself, grateful for my small victory. The guards dragged me away.
The lord’s room turned out to have a wooden bed with a straw mattress, blankets, and pillows. There was a fireplace with a half burned log on it, a chamber pot behind a small screen, and even a bookcase with a few old volumes. A small window let some sunlight in, and a wooden chair sat forlornly in the corner. The guards removed my chains and shoved me inside. I stumbled and fell, causing the guards to laugh as they walked away.
“This isn’t so bad,” I said to myself, dusting my dress off as I rose to my feet.
I sat on the bed, and a few mice scrambled for safety as my weight threatened to crush them. I yelped in surprise and jumped up, but the mice had already vanished through the cracks in the wall. Standing on my tiptoes, I could peer through the small window to see a courtyard below, where the carriage that had dropped me off had rested. I could also see the mountains on the horizon and realized the Tower itself must be on a cliff side or something.
There wasn’t much else to do but wait, so I went over to the bookcase and picked up a volume from the shelf. It was on Huryl history, and I sighed. I always hated history in school, but I suppose it would be best that I know a little of what I was up against. There might even be some information about this prophecy I was supposed to fulfill. I sat myself on the creaking wooden chair and began to read.