The Story That Never Ends

(Good addition Jimmy!)

(Great addition!!)

(Yay!)

(Would anyone like to add?
By the way, I think we need to have an end in sight for the story. In other words, we should start wrapping up the tale (I was thinking, King Archen and Sir Walter should discover Sir Desmond and Lady Makennah in the South, Lady Arwen and Rowan set off to meet the king, Britton and Kathryn escape with Gradlem and the garrison, both sides gather for battle, and the Noble of Alavaria triumph. What do you all think?). For those of you who are not editors for the story, I can say that we are making excellent progress with the editing and expanding process, and I can really see this becoming a book. :) We are around 130 pages right now, and I think the story, when completed, will be around two hundred, which is a perfect size. :) )

(Do we have to stop it at 200 pages?! Or are we going to start on a sequel?
I think, that at the end of this book, there should be some kind of victory for Rowan's group. (What's their offical name?)
Also, I noticed that we started adding mention of salvation/Jesus later in the story. In your editing process, I think you should incorporate Jesus into the earlier parts of the book. Because…there wasn't really any mention of him near the beginning, and then all of the sudden we find out that some of these people are Christians. Just my 2 cents…)

(Yeah, that's what I was thinking too. Sounds great! :) )

(Actually, we have started to do that already (add more Christian religion to the earlier chapters of the book)! :) Keep in mind, though, that in this book, a lot of the Christian themes are, in a way, allegorical or symbolic. Many of the actions of the characters are, in reality, an example of how Christians and people of this world think (it is a bit difficult to put Jesus into a story with a fantasy world, but we are doing our best to keep God and Christianity as much as possible involved). :)

If you want, I can post our revised, expanded, and updated version of chapters one and two for all to see? :) )

(Oh wow…that's great! :) Yes, I'd love to see the updated story! :) )

(EDIT- you know, this story would make a great movie!! :D )

(I know! By the way, the story is 141 pages so far (I made a mistake in my earlier calculations).)

(WOW!!!!! I think this is the fastest book that's ever been written! :D )

(Please don't mind the random question marks. That is a computer error.)

Chapter 1

The forest was oddly silent. The only sounds that could be heard were footsteps on the dry leaves. Not a bird, not a voice, not even an insect broke the eerie calm. A young man, with broad shoulders and brown eyes, crunched through the leaves at a fast walk. As he walked, he looked quickly from side to side. There was a look of terror on his face – a terror that showed his fear of pursuit. It was obvious that he was in great fear of being discovered.

Snap!

He heard the noise of a breaking twig on his left. His instantly turned his head in the direction of the noise, while at the same time he drew his long sword. As he strained his eyes to look, the young man thought for an instant that he saw a dark figure retreat quickly behind a tree, but of this he could not be certain.

Snap!

He heard another sound directly behind him. He was certain this time that the sound was man-made. He spun around, his sword gleaming in the dying light of the even-ing. As he did so, he felt a powerful blow upon his head. Lights flashed before his eyes, and he staggered, falling to the ground. He felt himself losing consciousness, but right before his eyes closed, he noticed the form of an enormous man in a black cloak – a cloak marked with the insignia of a red dragon.

He knew no more…

A dark warrior stood over the now motionless body. The hilt of his sword had done its job well. As he stood, he looked down upon the fair figure on the ground, now marred by a large lump on his head. He was almost sorry that he should harm such a powerful young man. 

The soldier turned as he heard several other men draw near. Each of them wore dark grey cloaks inscribed with the symbol of a dragon red as fire. They were tall and dark-haired. Each had a look of grim purpose and resolve, as though they knew their tasks and would not let anything stand in their way. The only exception to this rule was Lord Traius, the commander of the band. A head taller than the tallest of his men, he was a man of fierce aspect and cruel character. He delighted in slaying, and did not trouble himself if his own men died in pursuing his goals. It was Lord Traius who wore the black cloak spotted by the young man as he fell.

As soon as Lord Traius approached, the soldier who had struck the blow approached and said to his commander. "What should we do with him?"
 
Lord Traius said with a flash of anger and impatience, "Slay him! He is weak, and of no further use to us." 

"But, my lord, Lord Drakin sai-" 

"I said kill him! I don't care what Lord Drakin said!" 

The soldier answered timidly, “My Lord, with respect, Lord Drakin is your superior. I do not think it wise that –“ 

With a flash, Lord Traius’ anger burst upon him. He drew his sword and, with an almost incredible force, brought it down upon the unfortunate soldier. Without hesitating Lord Traius raised his blade again to finish off the young man on the ground...but he was gone. Lord Traius looked up and saw with horror that another man, tall and golden-haired, was carrying the young man out of sight.

“After them!,” Lord Traius shouted to his men. “If you fail to catch and destroy those nobles -- those rebels -- I shall have all your heads.”

With a rush, the men who bore the red dragon rushed into the forest, their com-mander waiting patiently for their return.

The young Count of Carivia slowly opened his eyes, surprised at the continual jolting he felt and at the horrible headache that throbbed with the force of a blacksmith’s hammer. He looked up and saw that he was being carried at a furious pace through the forest where he had previously received his wound. He felt his head and tried to speak, but he was instantly silenced by the strong, gasping voice of the man carrying him.

“Now is not the time for words! We must fly! In a short time it will be dark, and until that time our lives depend upon silence.”

The young Count kept silent. He was still disoriented after his blow, and he didn’t think it wise to ask any more questions. At any rate, he soon drifted back into a world of blackness.

The tall, blonde noble continued his desperate pace for some time. Finally, he ap-proached a large clump of bushes and, after recognizing it, laid the young Count upon a patch of ground, and disappeared behind it. He soon reemerged, leading a beautiful white horse that tossed its head and snorted as though it were accustomed to danger and battle.

The young Count had, by this time, regained consciousness. The sudden halt of the rocking movement of the tall noble’s arms had shaken him out of his deep slumber. He looked up and, upon seeing the man, said with several pauses of weariness, “Thank you, sir, for – your help. I am – in your debt.”

The other man waved his hand with an air of kindly disapproval. “Say no more. It is what all true followers of the Almighty God would have done. I heard a cry, so I arrived as swiftly as I was able. Thankfully I was not near this place when those soldiers came upon you. It would certainly have gone hard for you then.”

The young Count nodded.

“I have yet to ask your name,” the tall man said with a smile. “I am anxious to know the one whom I had the pleasure to help.”

“I am Rowan. Before the Council overthrew the land, I was the Count of Carivia. Now I carry that title in name only.”

The other man started. “The Count of Carivia? Why, I have heard the name spoken of in my Council with King Archen – at least, the former king. He told me that you were to arrive at the primary meeting place of the Order sometime very soon. I never expected at the time, though, that I would have the privilege of rescuing a fellow noble and friend. As for myself, I am the Duke of Assen. I have come here from Arandan, where I only just escaped with my life. I regret to say that ten knights, brave as any who drew the sword, have fallen. The Lord has delighted to spare me, though, and I cannot but think it is for some purpose.”

Rowan smiled. He had heard of the Duke of Assen – how many brave deeds he had done with his close and dear friend, King Archen, and how they had joined together to retake the peaceful nation that had been terrorized by the vile Council of Lords.

He was just going to express his admiration for the Duke, when suddenly he noticed an intense uneasiness in the white horse’s manner. At first he thought that it was his presence that made the horse stamp and shy back continuously, but when he saw the horse gaze nervously towards the north, he knew that something else – something that wasn’t merely a tree or a rock – was out there.

The Duke of Assen seemed also to notice this change. His warm smile turned to concern.

“I was certain we lost them earlier! Well, we shall pray that the Almighty will preserve us long enough to escape. Can you ride, Count Rowan? I know you might not be able to with your injury.”

“I will be fine. As you said earlier, speed is necessary.”

The Duke nodded and without hesitation lifted Rowan into the saddle. He himself was just about to mount when, with a loud cry, over a dozen men rushed upon them. The Duke of Assen had just enough time to draw his sword. As they fell upon him, he hewed them down with a loud cry. They dark soldiers had, however, surrounded him and, cutting off his escape, set to work to pierce through the Duke’s armor and to bring him to the ground.

Rowan looked on helplessly, too weak to draw his sword. In the dying light he could scarcely tell who was the enemy and who was the Duke of Assen. Rowan urged the horse forward, endeavoring to break through the body of men and to rescue his rescuer. The milk-white horse he rode, however, refused to move. Trained to obey only the voice of his master, he stood still and stomped the ground impatiently, his nostrils flaring at the sound of battle.

Suddenly, two of the soldiers left the party attacking the Duke and began making their way towards Rowan. The young Count was terrified. He cried out in a loud voice, mustering all the strength he could, trying to get the horse to move.

Suddenly, in the midst of the circle of the fighting men, Rowan saw a tall figure stand up straight, with his sword held high. In what was now moonlight, he saw that the man was the Duke of Assen. Since he was first cut off, the Duke had made great gains in his attempt to reach the horse, his only refuge. He was nearing his goal, when, upon hearing Rowan’s cry, he looked up and saw the two soldiers nearing the horse and rider with sharpened blades. Rowan saw the figure, standing out like the moon on a field of black. For an instant, their eyes met. The Duke’s eyes betrayed a compassion beyond Rowan’s understanding, and he smiled to the wounded rider a smile of love and resignation.

“Aratar!,” the Duke’s voice rose above the din, “Leave this place!”

The horse reared on its legs and, in a fury, sprinted off into the night, only just eluding the strokes of the two soldiers. Rowan shouted aloud as the horse galloped off, and he watched in horror as he saw the Duke fight on against impossible odds, giving up his only hope of escape to spare him from death. He couldn’t understand it. In spite of his bravery, the Duke had no chance. Why would he do such a thing? These thoughts plagued Rowan’s troubled mind throughout the ride. Try as he might, he could never slow Aratar’s breakneck gallop. For hours they rode, Rowan strug-gling to keep consciousness.

Finally, in the darkness he spotted the light of two low fires. The horse came to a sudden stop, and Rowan slipped off, plunging into deep and uneasy slumber.

?~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Rowan! Rowan? Is he dead, Sir Quinn? Oh, please don’t die, Rowan!”

“I don’t know. Wait a minute, he is moving. Praise the Lord!”

Rowan groaned as he heard the two voices. It seemed to him in his pain that the voices were swirling about and echoing endlessly within his head, bounding off the walls and jumbling his thoughts. He gave another groan.

Upon hearing that, the people behind the voices began to gently shake him, entreat-ing him to open his eyes. Upon doing so, he saw to of his closest friends, Lady Arwen of Anandale and Sir Quinn, a kind knight of high distinction.

“Lady Arwen?,” he said to the woman with the curly brown hair.

“Rowan! You are alive!”

“Could you doubt it, Lady Arwen?,’ Rowan smiled.

Lady Arwen gave a light laugh. “Only for a minute, Rowan. That cut on your head looks quite frightening. You must have lost quite a bit of blood. I have sent for some bandages, and I think we shall have you fixed in no time.”

Sir Quinn then spoke, “I heard you were in the area, lad, and I hoped we would see you. I just never expected to see you like this.”

“Neither did I. Some vile men in black took me from behind as I was going through the forest. When I awoke yesterday morning, I found that my entire guard, the soldiers specially sent to help me reach the headquarters of the Order, were gone. I – was a bit suspicious, but I decided to proceed more cautiously, knowing the Lord Traius and his men were reported in the area. Anyway, I was cut down. I should have died then and there, for robbers and henchmen don’t like to spare blood when they can help it. However, I woke up in the arms of the Duke of Assen!”

‘The Duke himself? What was he doing there?”

“He said he was escaping Arandan, where many nobles were slain by the Council. I am afraid though, that by rescuing me, he gave his own life.”

“How so, my lad?”

“We were ambushed by Lord Traius’ men – at least, that is who I believe they were – and the Duke was cut down, but not before he commanded the horse to take me here in safety.”

“Treacherous brutes!,” shouted Sir Quinn as he leapt up. He turned slightly red as he looked at the surprised face of Rowan. “I am sorry, my lad. I should not have lost my temper.”

Lady Arwen then spoke up. “We should try to recover the Duke’s body and send it to his castle for proper burial. Then, we should ride without delay to our secret refuge in the east.”

Another knight who had been listening, Sir Myles, then joined the conversation. “I think that would be an excellent plan. Who would be part of the Duke’s burial party?”

“I should say none other than the Lady Makennah,” answered Sir Quinn with a smile.

Rowan’s eyes opened. “Is Lady Makennah here too? How many nobles are in this place?’

Sir Quinn laughed. “Over fifty, Rowan. Many nobles that you know have come with us to seek out Lord Traius and defeat him. You will soon be able to talk to them, but only after you get some bandages and some sleep.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ?

Meanwhile, Lord Traius’ men streamed swiftly back to the place where their com-mander still stood, waiting for them.

“My lord,” one of them said, “your orders have been carried out. We caught the two as they were preparing to fly on horseback. We were able to kill the stronger one, but the other, unfortunately, was lost to us.”

Even in the darkness, the soldiers could see their leader’s figure stiffen. “What!,” he yelled. “How dare you disobey my orders. You are to do all that I command, down to the smallest detail. I said kill both, yet you claim to be worthy of praise for letting one escape to give away our position?”

The soldier spoke up once again. “We did all we could, Lord Traius. He escaped before we ever could have reached him. Besides, Lord Drakin gave strict orders that –“

They suddenly heard the sound of Lord Traius’ sword being unsheathed.

“Dweltar, you saw what I did to the other man who dared to mention Lord Drakin in my presence. It is I, Lord Traius, who is the master of your fate now. You have angered me, Dweltar, and I give you a choice. Swear allegiance to me and forsake Lord Drakin, or die!"

Dweltar, loyal to his first dark lord, decided instantly on a course of action. He drew his dagger and, with strong and careful hand, flung it at the Lord Traius, intending to pierce the armor beneath Lord Traius’ cloak. The dagger, however, missed its mark, and merely grazed across Lord Traius’ face.

"You fool! You will die for this!" Lord Traius swung his sword. Dweltar fell, dead at the feet of the betrayer. ?

Lord Traius then turned and, with bared and clenched teeth, spoke to his remaining eleven men.?"You have seen how I handle anyone who rebels against me. Swear your allegiance to me, and me alone. I am your master; you no longer serve Lord Drakin. We will overpower him and the Council and rule this nation ourselves; we will rule all of Kornaiden! If you are with me, bow before me and swear your allegiance! If not, you will die by my sword." ?

The men stood silent. They were reluctant to turn their allegiance so quickly, yet they knew that the reward for expressing their opinions would be instant death.

"I will serve you, Lord Traius," one of his men said, stepping forward and bowing down on one knee. The other ten soon followed suit, affirming their allegiance to their leader.

"Now," Lord Traius said, "follow me, and we will overtake the city of Carivia. We will put Lord Drakin to death, and you will serve me! Let us be off!" ?The men rode off toward the Carivia with determination, ready to do anything to fulfill the every desire of their new master.

Rowan awoke hours later to the sensation of Lady Arwen shaking him and urging him to rise. He felt his head. Strangely, although he felt weak, the pain had almost completely disappeared. This he thought came from the bandages carefully wrapped around his head.

“They must have been put there while I was sleeping,” he thought to himself. He then spoke aloud. “What is it, Lady Arwen? Is it almost time for the morning meal?”

“I am afraid it is not for a pleasant reason for which I am awakening you. One of our scouts just came in and said that he could spot several dark horsemen approaching from the north. Although they probably belong to Lord Traius, I don’t think they know that we are encamped here. It is important that we move at once. Come, we must hurry." 

Rowan hesitated as he rose. “Lady Arwen, what about the Duke of Assen? Isn’t it a matter of honor that we give him an appropriate burial?”

Lady Arwen nodded as she began packing her saddlebag with important documents.

“More important than you know, Rowan. Of course, as you said, it is the reverent thing to properly bury him and give thanks to God for all that he has done for us, but it is also important that recover him because he is carrying one of the King’s –“

Before she finished, Sir Quinn’s horn blew three low short blasts, loud enough to be heard by all the knights in the camp, and quiet enough to be imperceptible to Traius’ force.

Lady Arwen began working at a quicker pace. “Besides, Sir Quinn has dispatched several nobles under Lady Makennah to recover the Duke’s body and to give it burial at his castle.”

 Rowan was slightly comforted at this, but he still wished that he could have been one of those told off to the duty giving proper burial to the Duke.

Meanwhile, all of the knights gathered in the center of the great circle and began to mount their horses. Knights and nobles of all descriptions – fierce warriors from the North, Barons and Counts from the great towns of the East, and even an Earl from the Southern plains – were present. Rowan had heard of many of them, but had at that time known only a couple. He was awestruck at being in the presence of so many brave men and women, all united in one effort: to put the king back on the throne of Alavaria.

For many years, the wise and kind King Archen had ruled the nation of Alavaria. The country was happy, and there were very few indeed who did not benefit from the king’s sense of justice and his efforts to make the nation prosperous. However, a few powerful men resented the King, hating the way he treated everyone equally and especially detesting his faith in the Almighty God. For these reasons, nine lords conspired to overthrow the king and to rule the country in their own fashion. Known as the Council of Lords, these men gradually took over the country. The strong fortresses of Carivia, Forenton, Ambrest, and Omb fell after hard fighting. With the fall of the last great fortress, the Council of Lords claimed absolute power over the nation, renaming it Kornaiden as a way to erase the memory of the last ruler. 

King Archen, however, had not been entirely defeated. After he had been thrust from his castle at the hands of the Council of Lords, he had taken flight with a band of followers. These followers, known as the Nobles of Alavaria, had pledged themselves to following the One True God, and of restoring the land to how it had been before the rebellion of the Council. They been hunted ruthlessly down by the Council of Lords. Of the five hundred who had remained loyal to the king, less than one hun-dred remained.

The look of courage and devotion on these men, sworn to sacrifice themselves and to protect the others of the Order with their lives, immediately inspired Rowan with a sort of courage as well.

Sir Quinn grunted as he lifted Count Rowan up onto a horse. ?"Don't move around too much, lad," he said. "Keep flat against the neck of the horse, and your pain should not be too unbearable. We will try to get you some help when we get to the castle." The wounds you received might feel better now, but the pain should return once the strong medicine we gave you wears off.?Sir Quinn turned to the other knights. "Knights and nobles, now we must be swift. Lord Traius’ men are very near. Let us be silent. In time we shall rejoin the party sent by Lady Makennah to bury the Duke of Assen, who as you all know, suffered an untimely death at the hands of Lord Traius. He is in God’s hands, but we ourselves must still seek to preserve the lives given to us. Ride on!” 

The group of horses and their riders began their journey at a swift walk toward the south, bearing a little east, making sure that no sound was made that could give Lord Traius’ trained men an idea that enemies were near. Rowan would occasionally moan of pain as his horse carried him over the hills and valleys, but he tried to suppress his expressions pain as much as possible.

?It was near sundown when they arrived at the Castle of Carivia. Although one of the Council’s greatest strongholds, Carivia was used by the nobles as a secret refuge where they could receive information about what the Council was doing. Their friendship with the captain of the guards, Gradlem, made it easy for them to slip into the city unnoticed. This fact was helped by the way in which the nobles quickly changed their appearance. Right before they came within sight of the walls, each of the nobles quickly pulled on dirty and mangled cloaks and hoods and tied most of their horses to nearby trees. To further master their parts, the drooped their shoul-ders and bore a sad expression, an expression that was often seen since the Council took over. Even the horses that they decided to bring seemed to become more peasant-like and less war-like. With the disguise complete, the party approached the walls. Lights were brightly shining and they could see guards on duty. ?As the group approached the closed drawbridge, a lone soldier called out gruffly from the top of the wall,?"Who goes there?"

"A friend. We are here to check on our wares within town.”

“Are they in need of salt?”

“No, and we can give thanks for that.”

There was a moment’s pause, then the soldier called out, “I thought it was you, Sir Quinn. Your disguise nearly fooled me, even though you did give the signal. It is certainly better than your last one, when you pretended to be a roving band of jesters. That was quite humorous.” He gave a short laugh, then became serious. “Anyway, I will order the drawbridge lowered.”

“Thank you, Gradlem. We have come with a wounded Count Rowan!" Quinn said, trying to keep his voice down. "We need to get him help immediately!"

“Certainly! I would do anything for my old master,” the voice answered immediately, in Quinn's same quiet tones. Then he called back loudly to the men behind the gate, "Bring down the drawbridge!" ?The wooden mass creaked its way down to the pavement slowly. As soon as it hit the ground, Sir Quinn and the knights with him galloped over it, guiding their horses into the courtyard of the castle. ?

The riders rode through the courtyard in silence, careful not to attract any attention to themselves. As they crossed the massive square, broken as it was by three oaken gates.?They warily glanced around as they trotted silently to the castle, not knowing who might recognize them. There was no need to fear, however, for their plain clothes sufficed to keep attention away from themselves. Sir Quinn led them to a side door at the far end of the courtyard, just past the far gate, covered over by tall stalks of grain and sacks of wheat. The group waited for a patrolling guard to pass by them, then set to work uncovering the hidden door. After they had cleared everything away, a brawny man took Count Rowan from his horse, and Sir Quinn opened the door. The party headed in, leaving two behind to watch the horses and to cover over the entrance before the guard returned and discovered them.

Chapter 2

Lord Traius, followed by his band of dark warriors, raced at a furious pace past the camp that had so recently been occupied by the Nobles of Alavaria. He was not thinking of bringing destruction upon them, however. In truth, he was thinking about the overthrow of his master, Lord Drakin. He certainly had a difficult task before him. Having been denied membership into the Council of Lords, Lord Traius had willingly bided his time as the chief servant of Lord Drakin, the second highest in the rank of the Council. During his time in this position, Lord Traius had maliciously put to death 200 of the former king's followers, many of them knights and nobles belonging to the Order. He had hunted them down in cold blood, but now it was against his own kind that he chose to turn his sword. He had torn off the yolk of Drakin and now made for the second largest city in the kingdom and the Lord Drakin's primary abode. ?

This, however, would be a formidable task, as he very well knew. Lord Drakin's castle in Carivia was the strongest ever seen by the kingdom, with the exception of that of Omb, the great capital city of the country. By rebelling against the Lord Drakin, he made himself a renegade – an enemy of both the Council and the Order. However, Lord Traius had suc-cumbed to evil ambitions for power and wealth and had pledged himself to the overthrow of both powers, regardless of the cost. Thus, both the evil and the good had found a new enemy, that of terror. From then onward, Lord Traius was a man set to the destruction of all. He would pull down the great mass of men in order to place himself at the summit of worldly ambition. His cause might seem hopeless to anuninformed bystander, but the fear he instilled in all who came across him certainly placed the advantage in his favor as he began his attempt to overthrow the nation.

Lady Makennah and her party galloped across the northern countryside to the small fortress of Assen. Having found the Duke’s body in the forest, pierced through countless times and surrounded by a ring of slain enemies, they had placed it carefully on Lady Makennah’s horse and continued their journey, each thinking long about the prospects of success for putting the true king back on the throne of Alavaria. 

They knew that, as long as it remained a war between highborn nobles and lords, there would be no chance of success. The Council had maintained a great spirit of fear among the people and done a brilliant job planting agents in the towns and hamlets, spinning rumors of the great strength of the Council and of the weakness and cruelty of the Nobles of Alavaria. Moreover, the Council had made it a capital crime, punishable by death, for anyone to call the nation by its former name, Alavaria, meaning in the nation’s language, “Praise”. Instead, they were only to call it Kornaiden, meaning “Land of Greatness.” In this way, the Council sought to erase the people’s memory of the land’s former state and to erase any reference to the Almighty in the creation of the nation. This law had been strictly enforced, and over 3,000 men, women, and children had been executed for simply uttering the name of their homeland.

If the Order could convince the people to rise from their fear and to join the king in restor-ing righteousness to the land so plagued by injustice and death, then, they felt, victory could be achieved. Of course they relied on help from God, but they knew that their duty was to use the positions and talents the Almighty had given them and to fight to preserve the nation that had so faithfully served the Lord.

These thoughts passed through the nobles’ minds as the journey through the beautiful forest wore on. Makennah's young horse, having only recently been trained, was having some difficulty keeping up with the other horses due to the added weight of the Duke’s body, but other than that, the journey passed uneventfully.

After a few hours, night began to settle on the autumn forest, and the group had to stop for the night. They set up a small camp, tying their horses to nearby birch trees and arranging the large rocks which littered the ground into a circle. They then proceeded to light a low fire, using birch bark as tinder. They made great efforts to keep the fire small and to prevent large amounts of smoke from rising, as they wished to keep themselves from being easily seen. Little did they know, however, that they had been seen already, and that behind one of the trees was a pair of eyes, intent on the party, just waiting for them to fall asleep.

Rowan woke suddenly from his deep slumber and tried to sit up, but quickly changed his mind as sharp pain shot through his head. “This injury sure is taking a long time to recover,” he thought to himself. “I wonder how a blow to the head could cause so much pain.”

He sunk back on his bed and looked around the dimly lighted room, trying with difficulty to remember the proceedings of the previous day. The chamber was low and small; surrounded by thick stone walls that contained several various doors. He stared blankly at the set of steep stairs ahead of him. They looked as if they led straight to the ceiling and abruptly stopped. The walls were bare and the only furniture in the room was the bed in which Rowan lay, a small round table, and a few chairs, all made out of wood. The only light came from a wood fire that burned on the wall furthest from Rowan’s bed.

For a moment, Rowan did not recognize the place, but in a flash he remembered the room from the days when was a Count. He knew then that he was in Carivia after all, and not in some lowly cottage, as was his first suspicion. “Sir Quinn made it through all right!” he thought to himself. “I am glad. I wonder where he is now?”

A door, previously imperceptible, quietly opened, startling Rowan. Sir Quinn walked into the room.
"Rowan! You’re awake! How are you, lad?"

"Never been better." Rowan sighed, trying to smile. Sir Quinn laughed, but then grew serious.

"I have had an awful feeling about our comrades," he said, "who went to take the poor Duke of Assen to his castle. I cannot explain it, but something tells me that all is not quite right with them. I sent Sir Myles out last night to find them and to give them news of our wherea-bouts, but I have not heard from him as of yet, nor do I expect him to arrive for the next few hours. In the meantime, I believe you know where we are?”

Rowan nodded. “In the castle’s secret treasure chamber.”

Sir Quinn smiled. “True, lad, but without the treasure. As you can probably guess, this place was ransacked soon after you were overthrown. The men who had done the vile deed were killed by Lord Drakin shortly after the Council attained absolute power. He stole their gold, but apparently never heard from their lips of the secret chamber. As you haven’t returned to your home in quite a while, having been with me for much of that time, I can tell you that we thought it an excellent place to seek refuge and to get information. As a result, we turned it into the meeting place you see before you.”

“How did you know about the room, Sir Quinn?”

“It is quite simple, my lad. You told me yourself. When we were playing Archoret at my castle when you were last there, you implied that, just as in the game, you had a real secret room. I made some inquiries, and after hearing their report decided that this would be the perfect place for a refuge of the Order.”

“That is incredible, Sir Quinn. Why did you not tell me before?”

“I had some suspicions regarding my servants at the time, but that has been taken care of. I simply did not want to be heard asking about it.”

“I see. What is our plan now?”

Sir Quinn paused for a moment. “Lady Arwen and I have decided that it will be too danger-ous for you to go along with us to the king. We don’t want you to relapse into that dreadful fever you’ve been having for the last few hours. I think, lad, that a journey all the way to the Kolgarriat Mountains would be too much for your health. As a result, I am going to leave Sir Myles here with you until you recover fully. As soon as he comes back, you will ride to meet us at the headquarters of the Order.”

Rowan was a little disappointed. His head felt better every minute, and he did not want to leave the companionship of all the knights, but he was comforted at the knowledge that Sir Myles, a knight whom he had grown a strong liking for, was to accompany him. As a result, he gratefully accepted the kind offer of Sir Quinn.

“Now, my lad, until Sir Myles comes back, there is not much we can do. We have been poring over the map of Alavaria, trying to find the best possible strategy as we move on ahead, but I think my head has had enough of that for a while. What do you say we have a go at Archoret?”

Rowan smiled. The strategy game Archoret was a great favorite of Sir Quinn’s. Some documents of the Order were pushed out of the way, and the special map was laid out on the table, which had been placed by Rowan’s bed. Rowan silently chose his location for the secret room. Sir Quinn’s imaginary forces had just begun to search the dungeons, when suddenly they heard the sound of a grunt close by.

“Who’s there?,” asked Sir Quinn with a start. He very well knew that none of the Order were nearby. They were all in the meeting rooms and sleeping quarters behind closed doors.

Silence met Sir Quinn’s question. Slowly, Sir Quinn drew his long sword and rising from his seat beside the bed, whispered to Rowan, “Someone is here, for I heard him just now. I know you are wounded, but if you will crawl over to the doors and sound the alarm, I can block the escape of any intruder who has come in.”

Rowan weakly nodded. He was just about to slip out of his bed when, from the shadows in the corner closest to the flight of stairs, a husky voice called out. “You will stay here. Do not get out of that bed, or you shall die!”

Both Sir Quinn and Rowan spun around. A man dressed completely in black had emerged into the light. He himself brandished a dagger. It was long for a dagger, but it still bore cruel appearance. It was intricately engraved and inlaid, but even in that short instant Rowan felt that something about it was not right – something about the shape.

Seeing that they were discovered, Sir Quinn sought to disarm the black figure, but the unknown man had already prepared against such an attempt. As Sir Quinn swung his sword, the figure lightly dodged the blow, and with an almost astonishing speed, had wrenched the sword from Sir Quinn’s hands.

He then placed the point of his sword upon Sir Quinn’s breast. Sir Quinn was stood motion-less, slightly struck by the quickness with which the fight had turned on its head. He gave a short gasp. “Who are you, and what are you doing here?" he said in a surprised voice, as he slowly and secretly began pulling a dagger from the rear of his own garment.

"Who do you think I am?" the man scowled.

"I can only assume that you are an unfortunate agent of the Council."

"Quite right, and in the name of the Council I order you to remain in this room and to refrain from your treasonous actions. You cannot escape, and if you attempt to do so you will be cut down at once."

"How did you get in here?" said Sir Quinn, biding his time. The dagger was almost out of its sheath now.

"Silence! That is for me to know and for you never to find out." With an evil grin, the man reached for the papers upon the table, grasped them in his gloved hand, and cast them into the roaring fire.

Rowan's mind was racing. He knew that Sir Quinn had a dagger – he always carried one –but now Rowan just needed to create some kind of diversion to give him a chance to use it, but how? What about the rest of his comrades in the adjoining rooms? This agent of the Council must not discover that they were here also, for he could be the death of them all. Highest is Rowan’s mind, though, was one vital question: How did this man know about the hidden room?

With lightning speed, Sir Quinn whipped the dagger around and struck the man on the face with its hilt. He fell to the ground, seemingly senseless. Rowan watched as Sir Quinn ran over to the fire and quickly grabbed the papers before they were severely damaged. One, however, had escaped rescue, and they could see it burning far back in the inferno. Rowan could not see which one it was, but he could see grave disappointment in Sir Quinn’s face.

As soon as he had recovered the papers, he turned to see what the mysterious man would do, and whether he was still unconscious, but he was gone. "Where did he go?" He said quickly.

Rowan, who was paying attention to Sir Quinn all the while, said, "I don't know, Sir Quinn. I was not watching him at the time.” Rowan met Sir Quinn's worried gaze, then glanced around the room. "He could not have gotten too far by now; let's sound the alarm."

Sir Quinn nodded and began pounding on the inner doors. Cheerful and half-awake knights listened with horror as Sir Quinn told his tale. As soon as he was through, parties of knights began streaming into the secret passageways that lay beneath Carivia. “If the man escaped,” said Sir Quinn, “it must have been by the tunnels.”

Rowan laid his head back and forced himself to relax. Sir Quinn was right. His companions could be at this very moment in perilous circumstances, but there was nothing he could do about it. Still, he felt anxious about that lost document. He asked Sir Quinn in a worried voice what it contained and how much information was lost.

Much to his surprise, Sir Quinn gave a hearty and uproarious laugh. He laughed till his face turned red and the tears started to flow, then said. “Rowan, that was no secret document. That was the playing map for Archoret!”

Rowan himself could not contain his laughter. Sir Quinn’s like for the game had been the sole cause for that earlier look of disappointment. The two laughed for a long time. Finally, Sir Quinn, still chuckling to himself, left the room, leaving Rowan to rest and sleep.

Lady Makennah’s party had, in the meantime, experienced a significant alteration in both its position and its fortunes. The previous night, they had fallen asleep peacefully in the small encampment, leaving Sir Doran, famous for his vigilance, as watchman during the night. When the party arose shortly after dawn, they ate a quick meal of bread and drank from small flasks of water. When they had been refreshed, they prepared to set out again. Lady Makennah recovered the cloaks they had spread upon the ground as blankets; Sir Elviron and the Baron DuBatz scattered rocks over the ground of their encampment, endeavoring to erase any trace of their stay there; and Sir Doran saw to the horses. 

Suddenly, a short cry was heard from Sir Doran. "Lady Makennah! The Duke of Assen’s footwear has been stolen in the night!" 

The other nobles gave exclamations of surprise.

“Are you sure that they did not fall off during our ride yesterday?” asked Sir Elviron.

“I am positive. I rode behind Lady Makennah all yesterday, and the Duke’s boots were immovably fixed on him the entire ride.”

"But it is impossible!" the Baron DuBatz exclaimed. "Even if someone could have eluded your watch, there is no reason why he should have taken our comrade's boots." 

Sir Doran said humbly. “No action is impossible with the Almighty and with his servants. Still, I too see no reason for such a theft. What do you think, Lady Makennah, about this dishonorable deed?”

Lady Makennah, throughout the entire conversation, had grown deathly pale. "Actually, my lords, there IS a reason. One that could bring death to all of us, including the king..." 

The lords started, each inwardly quesioning whether he heard right. How could boots determine whether they lived or died?

Sir Elviron spoke up. "Hurry on, Lady Makennah – if this be as important as you say, we have not a moment to lose!"

"The reason The Duke was being followed was this." She held up a small, yellowed enve-lope. "This is why he, the Duke of Assen, was journeying to Arandan last fortnight. He was, I believe, supposed to meet with several other knights new to the Order, and to give them a document identical to this." Lady Makennah continued in a somber voice, "It contains the secrets of our order - names, locations, and numbers. It also contains our only knowledge of the doings of the Council of Lords, including the names of its primary fortresses and the locations of its secret documents. King Archen made two of these confidential reports to preserve against one of the copies being accidentally destroyed.”

“This envelope I have kept safe since I received it from the King, trusting that the other copy would also escape notice by the Council of Lords. Unfortunately, the second copy was concealed in the heel of the Duke of Assen's left boot…which has been stolen during the night.”

The faces of the other lords became white as death. "Do you mean to say, " the Baron DuBatz began, "that the Council knows our every member, our every base, and our every location?!" 

"I do," Lady Makennah said softly, tears coming to her eyes. All became deathly silent.

In a dimly lit room far within the protection of the walls of Omb, the Lords Melkior, Rolkran, and Telrond, three of the most prominent of the Council of Lords, bent over a map of the land and discussed their future plans.

"I don't like it!" Lord Telrond, a man of small stature and wicked expression, exclaimed. "The Lord Traius should have returned by now with his report. If he was lost, think of the advantage it would give the traitorous nobles!"

Lord Melkior, the chief of the lords present – a man who, unlike most men, filled the room with his mere presence – then arose. "Lord Traius, I believe, is in no more danger than we. We recently received a report from him that led us straight to one of the rebels’ chief refuges. This refuge was, as a matter of fact, at the fortress of Arandan.”

Exclamations of outrage broke from the dark lords.

“This news would, of course, assure us of Lord Traius’ safety,” said Lord Rolkran, the Council’s secretary, “but it would also reveal that one of our own, Lord Alexandr, is is a traitor! As commander of Arandan, he could not unknowingly have allowed the nobles to dwell and plan within his very walls!”

Lord Telrond cried out in assent. Lord Melkior held up his hand.

“Do not be so quick to condemn members of the Council, my Lords, or we will soon find ourselves in a power struggle that none here can win. The Count of Omb has enough influence to cut us off if we show signs of inward squabbling and division. You know what he would do to those who seek to destroy our band…”

The nobles knew only too well.

Lord Melkior continued, “I know for a certainty, by reading Lord Traius’ report, that Lord Alexandr is not a traitor. He is young and not of as much experience. We will let him go…this time.”

Lord Rolkron then put forth a question.

“And the refuge was, of course, destroyed?”

Lord Melkior smiled an unnatural smile. “Of course! Along with the traitors who were present there. Around ten knights were put to the sword, only one or two having escaped.”

“This is excellent news, my lord! We are well on our way to total victory.”

Lord Melkior frowned. “In spite of this, we need more information if we are to crush our adversaries totally."

Suddenly a man burst through the door. ?"My lords," he exclaimed, "for years we have searched for such this; for years we have struggled for this; for years we have sweated and labored for this; but I can finally have the honor of telling you that at last we have the ability to end the conflict between the Council and the Order once and for all. Now, I present to you most secret and vital information of the entire Order! In this document are a complete list of the Order’s refuges, its role call of members, its list of supplies, and even its short-term plans. It is one of the king's own reports, found by one of our most brilliant spies in the boots of the slain Duke of Assen."

All the lords gave evil and ruthless smiles.

“Lord Saxon,” exclaimed Lord Melkior, “I congratulate you on being the first of the Council to hear this news! We must tell the Count, our commander, at once. There will be feasting at Omb tonight!”

The other knights gave a great laugh, and soon Lord Melkior settled down to read the document. The other lords watched in eager anticipation as Lord Melkior glanced through the paper. For some reason, however, the triumph they saw in his eyes was replaced over time by an expression of anxiety. Something, they knew, was not quite right.

Lord Melkior looked up from the king's report and slammed his fist on the table. ?The other lords started, and Lord Rolkran asked in his whining voice, "What angers you, Melkior? Is the document not what you had hoped?"

"No!" hissed Melkior, "It is everything I could ever have hoped for. Everything! Except for the single detail which would seal our triumph!"

The Lords stared at him blankly. "The name of the prince!" He shouted, "If we just knew who he was, we wouldn't have to concern ourselves about the other rebels. Destroy him, and their fearful insurrection would instantly be quelled…well, the moment their aged king died."

“I don’t understand, my lord,” said Lord Saxon, “wouldn’t the rebellion continue under another leader?”

“You obviously don’t understand the people of Kornaiden! Right now, they are under our thumb, but there is a chance that they could be roused through great urgings to support the former ruler and his line. Only this sense of duty would shake their fear of us. Tell the people that their king is coming and they will throw us off in a moment. We mustn’t give them that chance. Under any other leader, the people wouldn’t so much as lift a finger. That is why the destruction of the Prince is so vital. We NEED his name!”

"But the victory will still be ours, regardless…?" asked Lord Telrond, hesitating a little.

"Of course it will!" cried Lord Melkior, slamming his fist again. "Of course! It will just take that much longer."

"Send this document to Lord Drakin at Carivia," Lord Melkior said to Lord Rolkron. "He will then pass it on to Lord Traius, our primary agent. With this information, he will be able to crush the remnants of the king's followers."

Lord Saxon answered with a sinister look. "One of Traius' victims may very well BE the prince."

"Exactly so! We must act quickly in order to prevent the country from joining our enemies. Less than one hundred names are on this list – one hundreds rebels left to destroy before the country is completely and absolutely ours. Lord Saxon?"

"Yes, my lord?"

"Send out our best and swiftest agents to these locations. They appear to be the rebels' chief bases. Tell them not to kill if possible, but to destroy all documents pertaining to our counsel. They know what to do if they ARE threatened. I trust that the Lord Drakin will send assistance so that the real purging of the enemy forces can begin."

Lord Telrond, who had bent over to listen to the words of a cloaked messenger, suddenly stood upright, his face flashing in a deep crimson.

"What is it, my Lord?" Melkior asked impatiently.

"Lord Melkior, I have just received a report that that concerns a conspiracy from within our ranks. It concerns the Lord Traius."

Lord Melkior started. "Speak on."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lady Makennah’s party stood in stunned silence. They knew that, if what they heard was true, they had not much time to live. They would be ruthlessly hunted down and destroyed by the Council’s forces. Desiring to complete their grave mission, however, regardless of the cost, they pulled themselves onto their horses with fearful hearts and plunged into a gallop, still making for the Duke of Assen’s castle.

Lady Makennah thought long and hard as they rode, trying to think of what the Order could do now. All of the nobles’ refuges were now known to the enemy; What could they possibly do? Where could they go to continue plotting against the Council of Lords if they could no longer take refuge in any of the places where they had painstakingly made friends and forged allies? Makennah thought hard, but she could not think of a single place.

The twilight of that day marked the time when Lady Makennah's party reached the Duke of Assen's castle. After holding a small and solemn burial service outside of the walls, in which Sir Elviron thanked the Almighty for the Duke’s sacrifice and for his devotion to his king and his friends; Lady Makennah, the Baron DuBatz, Sir Doran, and Sir Elviron walked into the castle.

As was the case with the castle of Carivia, the Duke of Assen's fortress had been honey-combed with trap doors and secret passages. One of the last strongholds of the Order to remain uncaptured, it had become a valuable safehaven for knights and nobles hunted by the Council’s men. The tunnels and passageways had been created to prepare against a possible capture – a very wise action.

Lady Makennah and the other lords swept through one of these into a small room littered with maps, dried provisions, and water.

The five nobles inside looked up with both surprise and gloom. "Why, Lady Makennah!" one of them said. “What brings you to this refuge? I thought King Archen sent you and Sir Quinn to the Western forests?"

"He had," she replied. "Unfortunately, however, terrible misfortunes have occurred on the way. The Duke of Assen has been slain and one of the King's own reports is in the hands of the Council of Lords.”

The nobles gave an exclamation of anger. "This explains it!” one of them said.

“What does it explain?” asked Lady Makennah, confused.

“When we came here earlier this morning from the South, we found EVERY ONE of the hidden documents and maps in this room destroyed. We had been here before on previous missions, and each of us knew where the useful papers could be found, but in each hiding place we found only dust. No doubt this destruction was at the urging of the Council. They must be far swifter than we had previously thought."

"That I am sure it was,”answered Lady Makennah. “But the question still remains – what we are to do now? If we remain, the Council’s soldiers will come and put us to the sword, but if we flee we will have no refuge…" For the second time that day, tears came to Lady Maken-nah's eyes. "What can we possibly do now?"

That is SOOOOO GOOD!!!!!!!!!!! I LOVE it!!!

(We are still editing these chapters, and there are a couple things we still want to add, but this is what we have so far. What do you all think? I tried, in re-writing them, to incorporate as much of the original material and quotes as possible. :) )

(Wow!!! Great editing. Love it! :D)

(Wow. That's just… incredible. You did an AMAZING job!!! I wish I could be more involved in helping you guys with the editing process, but I just have a lot going on… But keep up the great work! :) )

(Wow. That's just... incredible. You did an AMAZING job!!! I wish I could be more involved in helping you guys with the editing process, but I just have a lot going on... But keep up the great work! :) )

Ditto)

(Wow. That's just... incredible. You did an AMAZING job!!! I wish I could be more involved in helping you guys with the editing process, but I just have a lot going on... But keep up the great work! :) )

Ditto)

(Would anyone like to add? I know there is a lot going on, but the sooner we finish, the sooner we can get this out. I predict we need less than three chapters. :) )

NO!!!! DONT LET THIS TREAD BE DEAD!!!! IT WILL KILL ME WHICH IS NOT A GOOD THING!!! stifled laugh in the background by a unnamed sibling AHEM………AS I WAS SAYING………PLEASE SOMEONE ADD! I AM SUFFERING FROM WRITERS BLOCK!!!!!!

( Ok I was kidding about the unknown sibling :)……)

(THREE MORE!???? That's so exciting!! In a really sad way. {okay sorry, I'm weird like that…} Hmm, I'll probably be able to add something tomorrow.
@ Hannah, don't worry! It's not anywhere near dead yet!! =D)

(I agree, it's exciting, but a bit sad :( I'm the same way, Emily =D I'll try to add on sometime soon…
Once we "finish" this book, are we going to start the sequel? :) )

Hi, all! I have been working on statistics and editing and I wanted to ask a couple of questions of those who have read the Kingdom Series or the Knights of Arrethtrae. I hear that they are around 190 pages each. Am I right about that (I don't have access to the books rights now)? Also, around how many words per page are in his books (an average would be great)? Finally, for those who have read the whole thing, how many character names are copied in his books. If they are to close or copied, we will probably need to alter them. So far, I am afraid that Rowan, Lady Arwen, and even Sir Quinn will have to change their names. Let us know if we are missing anyone else. We should resolve the whole "naming" thing as quickly as possible. :)

Thanks!

(I like Rowan's name! :) do we have to change it?! :(
I've never read the books you've mentioned, so I can't help you on that one, sorry.
I could think up some other name suggestions, if you'd like. )

The Kingdom Series/Knights of Arrethtrae books are on average 140-160 pages long. There are on average 330 words per page. The names that would have to be changed are Rowan, Arwen and Quinn but other than that I can't think of any more.

Here's a link to different medieval times names…
http://medieval.stormthecastle.com/medieval-names.htm

Thanks, BibleBee! That is very helpful! I don't want to change the names, but it would probably be best that no one thinks that we copied from Mr. Black. :)

@Rachel: Wow! that looks really cool!

You're Welcome, Sir Walter :) Yeah…we wouldn't want it to look like we are copying him. :D

(Who do you think we should go to next? :) )

Well, Jackson, I think Britton would be best. Everyone we have done recently except for Sir Desmond and Lady Makennah (who I don't think we need to go to), and Kathryn. I am not so sure that we should go to Kathryn alone at all, as it would probably be best to have her return to help Britton later on with his plan or (maybe a better idea) to meet him afterwards. We could go to the Council, but there is not much to update on them. Would you like to add? If no one else does, I can go again. :) )

(if you have an idea about how Britton can rescue Gradlem, it would be really great if you added again:)
@Rachel: Yay! I'm glad I'm not the only one :D lol)

(You're not the only one for what? Not reading those books? :) )

(I went to the website Rachel mentioned,and there are a bunch of awesome names! I would like to post a couple ideas from the website for Rowan, Sir Quinn, and Lady Arwen. Remember, we HAVE to change the names, so we need to try to find the best option (which might not be on the list).

Rowan (by far the hardest to find names for): Rulf, Tarrin, Asher, Peter, Terrowin, and Borin. I don't really like all the name possibilities for Rowan, but tried to provide the best ones on the list.

Sir Quinn: Sir Clifton, Sir Geoffrey, Sir Simon, Sir Edmund, Sir Arthur, Sir Thomas, Sir Favian, Sir John, and Sir Hadrian.

Lady Arwen (These are name ideas in addition to the ones already proposed): Alianor, Alice, Amelia, Adelaide, Adeline, Margaret, Guinevere, Ariana, and Katelyn.

What do you all think? )

(I am going to post the three most recent chapters. Great job everyone. Just a couple more to go! :) )

CHAPTER 10
Ten of the knights were sent out to form a line of scouts around the secret cave entrance. Within the circle of their watch, the other eighteen knights began to hurriedly carry sticks and branches from nearby trees. To cut off the Council's men completely, however, they needed to block the opening completely with hewn logs and other heavy obstacles. The knights, wiping their brows, set to work hacking at the trees with their swords. This was not very efficient, as they soon realized, for the sword blades both failed to cut through the sturdy trunks and gave off too much noise, putting them in peril of discovery.
Deciding to make due with what was already collected, Sir Desmond and the other knights piled the branches across the narrow opening to the cave.
"We must hurry, for I am sure they are coming!," said Sir Desmond. "I cannot comprehend why it has taken them so long. Nevertheless, we must get this lighted and run for our lives."
One of the nobles on guard returned and told Sir Desmond that he could see torches going steadily towards the North.
"That is good. It is probable that Lord Traius called off his strict watch in this area of the forest, or at least sent his men to search elsewhere."
By this time Sir Desmond had set flickering a small bundle of tinder he had carried with him. Smoke soon rose from the mass of branches that covered the entrance, and that smoke turned almost instantaneously into flame. It had been a dry summer, and the wood caught fire rapidly.
Sir Desmond turned and drew his sword. "Now, my lords, let us depart from here. We have not a moment to lose!"
The knights on guard filed back towards the burning pile.
"Where are we trying to reach, Sir Desmond?," asked the Count of Nevra.
"That I know not, but this fire has given away our position, so we must hurry. I would advise we go towards the South."
Without wasting any time the knight set out at a run, all the while keeping a keen ear open, ready to challenge the slightest sound that could announce an obstacle to their desperate flight.

The Count of Omb sat at his desk, his hands stroking his beard thoughtfully. How could he crush this rising against the Council? “The aged king is near his end; he must die soon, but the Prince! If we only knew his name.” He spoke softly to himself, saying it over and over as if it were echoing off the walls of a giant cave. He suddenly sat upright, then sat down. “No, it would never work…….Or could it.” He sat at his desk for a quarter of an hour more before ringing the bell, at which one of his many servants entered. 
“Yes, my lord?” 
“Assemble the Council.” 

The seven lords present sat down at a long table in the dark meeting room waiting for their leader. He came in, lowered himself impatiently into his chair, and instantly started. “My fellow Lords,” exclaimed the Count of Omb, “We have almost crushed the rebellion of these…criminals.” The last word he spit out as if he were spitting out poison. The other nobles exchanged evil grins. “But,” began the Count again, “we have one setback, the prince. Who is he? If the king mysteriously and suddenly ceased to exist…” He paused smiling wickedly, “ Well, you all know very well. Such an occurrence would, of course, make his son the king in his place."
"Making it harder to completely subdue the country!,” yelled Lord Telrond, banging the table with his fist.
The Count of Omb held up his hand.
“The dispatch which we have cleverly abducted did not disclose the name, which is most unfortunate.”
“My lord," interrupted Lord Alexsandr, the youngest of the Council, "what do you want us to do about the matter? Gripe about it?” The other lords chuckled.
“Silence! Or I will have your head!” The room was instantly silenced, for they all knew that the Count was not one to threaten lightly. “I plan for one of you to take upon yourself the responsibility of capturing the king… alive."
Voices shouted out, "Alive!? Spare our greatest enemy?"
Without hesitation, the Count of Omb continued, "We will force the information regarding the prince out of the old man until he breaks. Trust me, he WON"T be spared the punishment he so deserves. You all understand he will be guarded well. Who is willing to be a man and undertake this task? ”
Lord Melkior stood up with a puffed-out chest, and with his powerful voice spoke first, “I, my Lord, shall go with all my men.” The Count smiled inwardly. He wanted the king, and even if Lord Melkior died in the process he would have no hard fellings. In fact, he felt rather threatened by the powerful man with so much influence over the other Council members. “Very well, I order you to set out before dawn.”
“Yes, My lord.”
"And Lord Melkior," added the Count with a calm and withering smile, "if you do not succeed in bringing the old king before me yourself, and fail in your mission, I am afraid your position will be rather…unpleasant."
Lord Melkior gave a hard swallow, then he walked briskly out of the room, his figure followed by the blazing eyes of the Count of Omb.

Britton instructed Kathryn to follow him, then stealthily made his way out of the forest and toward the outer castle wall. He stopped as he approached it, then started moving around it, looking closely at the stones that comprised it as he went. 
"What are you doing?" Kathryn whispered. "How is this supposed to help us get inside the castle unnoticed?" 
"Have patience, dear Kathryn. I just need to find--ah, here it is." 
Britton stopped at a part of the wall where there seemed to be no mortar holding the stones together. He put both hands on the wall and began pushing against it. 
"Britton, what are you doing? Are those stones loose?" 
"No, I'm just pushing on this stone for the fun of it," Britton joked. "Of course the stones are loose! Now come help me, if you would." 
Kathryn rolled her eyes at Britton's sarcasm, then began helping him push the stones. 
"How did you find out about this weak spot in the wall? And why did you never tell me? We always share everything with each other." 
"True enough; and I would have, if I had not only recently discovered this place." 
"And how exactly did you discover it?" 
"I just happened to be passing by this part of the wall a few days ago, carrying some sacks of potatoes for the cook, when I stopped to rest. I leaned my hand up against these stones, and one of them moved a small bit. I looked at the wall in surprise, and noticed that there was no mortar around a few of the stones. I didn't search into it any further at that time, since there were others around me, but I came back to it last night to see if it could be broken through. When I discovered that it could, I planned on using it tonight as an escape route for you and me to flee from this place and Lord Drakin. But the events of today have rather altered my plans somewhat, wouldn't you say?" 
"Quite so! But are you really saying that we could have fled the castle tonight if it hadn't been for what has gone on today?" 
"It would have been very likely." 
"But since you apparently want to flee, why have you not done it before? You are often allowed out of the castle to gather wood; why didn't you just run away on one of those occasions?" 
"Well, for one thing, I would need to bring provisions. It would be difficult to give the cook a good reason for me carrying a large sack of food while I go out to collect wood. For another thing... well... I would... want you to come with me." 
Kathryn stopped and looked at Britton. She looked like she was about to say something, but Britton suddenly exclaimed. "Oh, look at that! I think we've made a wide enough hole now to get through. Follow me." Britton slipped through the hole and walked briskly down the stone path just inside the wall. Kathryn sighed and followed him. 
Upon emerging on the other side, Kathryn looked around and noticed for the first time the immense loneliness that surrounded her. Not a person was in sight, neither soldier, nor cook, nor stable boy. She gave a quick shudder, then ran to join Britton, who was a few steps ahead of her. 
"Where is everyone, Britton? I see no sign of any of the servants, and where is Lord Traius?" 
Britton looked up and said, "Well, I suppose they -- the soldiers I mean -- are still in the courtyard, either still trapped or ---" He paused for a moment in deep reflection. "The servants are likely hiding in their homes. Having discovered what was going on, it would be quite natural." 
Kathryn thought for a moment, then her eyes brightened. 
"Britton, I think that we should try to save the garrison. If we could but open one of the gates, we could show them to the hole we got out of, and then they could all escape with their lives!" 
Britton shook his head. "It is likely that none of them are still living. Lord Traius is not a patient man, and if the standoff that I told you about lasted any longer, he probably would have sent his man to silence his opposition. Anyway, Kathryn, we have a mission to perform. Lady Arwen herself told you to find Rowan and Sir Quinn. It is only right that you should obey her orders solely and without risking yourself on an impossible task, for truly, it would be impossible." 
Kathryn was once again silenced. She thought about what Britton had said. He was probably right. To open one of the gates would be nearly impossible. Neither of them had any idea as to the strength of Lord Traius' force, and it was wise to assume that it was numerous. "No," she thought, "I suppose Britton is right." 
Suddenly, in a flash, she remembered. With a cry, she shouted in terror, "Gradlem!" 
Britton, upon hearing, also turned pale. Gradlem, Kathryn's cousin, was one of the chief captains of the castle guard. He was a brave man and well liked by the garrison, though he made no secret of the fact that he followed the One True God. Although the Council, particularly the Count of Omb and the Lord Drakin, hated the Almighty, they allowed this self-professed believer to remain in the castle because of his great leadership abilities and knowledge of weaponry. They kept a close watch on him, however. Britton and Kathryn realized with horror that, as a member of the guard, Gradlem would almost certainly be among those within the confines of the dreaded courtyard. Whether he be living or dead, they must find out. 
"Oh, Britton, Gradlem is in there!" She pointed toward the high wall just within view that announced one of the entrances to the courtyard. 
"I know, Kathryn, but our mission must still take priority..." He saw that he was starting to doubt his position. The look in Kathyn's hazel eyes made him stop short. 
"Britton," she said as a tear fell down her cheek, "I know what my -- our mission is. We were sent to save the lives of two brave men who stood up against evil and did what was right. Behind that wall are hundreds of men -- one in particular, who I am sure have done the same. You said earlier that a group of men refused to turn their arms against their comrades and to follow Lord Traius. These men, Britton, have stood for right, just as the Almighty commands us. It becomes our duty, I think, to save these men if possible and to support good when it fights evil." 
Britton stepped back. The wise words, coming from such a young girl, struck him with astonishment. He saw the determination in her teary eyes and knew what it was he had to do.

CHAPTER 11 
Rowan knelt by Sir Quinn's body with a large rock still in his hand. He felt as if he had had the breath knocked out of him. He studied Sir Quinn's face. It looked so empty and peaceful at the same time, almost like a well-kept but uninhabited home. He snapped himself out of the fog he was in and looked down the tunnel. He heard the tramping of feet coming down the tunnel. He quickly picked up Sir Quinn body now cold as death and hid in the corner of the cell. He closed his eyes and prayed that whoever was coming would not see them. He paused for a second and heard 2 voices... 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Meanwhile, two knights had approached Lady Arwen and her party at Dwenden. The first knight lifted the visor of his helmet and began to speak. 
"My lady," he said. "We have come to tell you of some very dreadful news. I am Sir Caston, a messenger sent from King Archen. The cave in which the king has been hiding has been discovered by the Council, and now is surrounded by about two hundred men! There is a passage leading out of the cave, but as I said, there are two hundred men surrounding it." 
"Oh, how very dreadful indeed!" cried Lady Arwen. "Is there any way they could have possibly escaped?" 
"We do not know," replied the second knight, who had now also removed his visor. "We departed as soon as the evil band of men was spotted. I am Sir Bradley, also a messenger from the king. I have come to warn you of something else. There is a traitor on this very ground." Then, pointing his finger he added, "The traitor is him." 
His finger was pointed at Sir Myles. 
Sir Myles's face blanched. "Me--I--are you saying that I am disloyal to the Nobles of Alavaria? How dare you accuse me of such a thing! I am fully committed to conquering the Council of Lords and putting King Archen back on the throne of Kornaiden--or rather, Alavaria!" 
"So you say in word," Sir Bradley said slowly, "but I believe that your actions would prove otherwise." 
"What actions?" Sir Myles sputtered. "Have you any proof of this ridiculous assertion?" 
"I believe that I do. When Sir Caston and I were back at the cave where the king was hiding, we heard a large group of soldiers, approximately six hundred in number, approaching. We were gathering wood far from the cave, so we had no time to run back and warn the others, but we hid ourselves and listened closely to see if we could find out who sent them. 
"We saw the leader of the group approach the entrance to the cave and announce that he knew that King Archen and some other nobles resided there. He claimed that this information was revealed to him not long before by a messenger sent by a traitor within the ranks of the Nobles of Alavaria." 
"Ha! And that is your proof that I am the traitor?" Sir Myles scoffed. 
"I am not finished. After the man had said this, we overheard one of the soldiers in the back ranks say, 'Ah! He must be talking about Sir Myles, the one who's been leaking so much information to the Council of Lords about the rebels. I've heard he's been a big help in crushing the rebel forces.'" Sir Bradley looked Sir Myles in the eye. "Well?" he asked questioningly. 
"I--I--" Sir Myles stuttered. 
"I know I did not mishear the man. And he would have had no reason to lie about such a thing. Have you, Sir Myles, been leaking information to the Council of Lords regarding the Nobles of Alavaria?" 
"I... oh, all right. All right! Yes, I am a traitor--a turncoat, a backstabber! For years I have been sending secret information to the Council, revealing rebel hideouts and movements. I joined the rebellion shortly after it started only so that I could do this. I have always served the Count of Omb, and him alone; not that fool Archen!" 
Sir Bradley gritted his teeth. "How did you send the message regarding the location of the king? You have been here the whole time." 
"As you said, I sent a messenger. Shortly after we arrived here, I gave a boy who lives in this village an envelope that revealed the whereabouts of the cave in which the king has been hiding. After a little... persuading... I sent the boy to the Count of Omb. Apparently the Count sent quite an army out to capture the king." 
Sir Bradley glared furiously at the traitor before him. "You fiend! What other information have you revealed to the Council?" 
"Up until recently, I have never been able to reveal to them anything significant. But just a few days ago, a grand opportunity revealed itself. Shortly after the Duke of Assen was killed--I assume you have now heard of this "tragedy"--I was standing nearby. I happened to know that something very important was concealed within his left boot, so I stole it when no one was looking, and later sent it to the Council of Lords." 
Sir Bradley's eyes widened. "One of the king's dispatches containing the location of every rebel base in Alavaria!" 
Sir Myles chuckled evilly. "Precisely. Unfortunately, the document did not contain the location of the king and his party; they had moved to the cave they are now in--or were in until now--only recently, and the dispatch had not yet been updated to account for the move. That is why I sent the message as quickly as possible." 
Sir Bradley stared at Sir Myles, aghast. "How could you deceive us for so long? How could you allow yourself to be such a murderous traitor?" 
"It has not been difficult," Myles sneered. "I always hated the way King Archen ruled, and when the Council of Lords took over the country, I wanted to help take down the people who still remained loyal to him. Pretending to join their ranks was the best way I could think of to do it. I have never served Archen, and I never will! Long live the Count of Omb!" 
Sir Myles had by this time drawn his sword. It glistened in the light, like some fantastic jewel, and all the nobles present could not help but feel uneasy. In spite of their rage, they well knew that Sir Myles was the best swordsman present, and one of the best in the land. They had inwardly questioned Sir Myles' ready tongue, wondering why he had chosen to reveal so much information. They now saw with horror that Sir Myles didn't intend for the information ever to leave them and warn the other nobles. From the look in his eyes, they saw that he meant their deaths to seal his story forever. 
They quickly grasped their situation. Having not suspected treachery from within, they had encamped within a small hallow of ground that dug into a cliff. Surrounded on three sides by sheer walls of rock, with a narrow opening large enough to fit only one rider or two nobles at a time. Sir Myles, throughout the course of his interrogation, had artfully edged himself around so that he was now standing at the opening, ready and willing to kill any who endeavored to escape. Moreover, he stood on rising ground, making it easy for him to kill any who dared approach, even were they mounted on horseback. 
"Lady Arwen," said Sir Caston with a brave expression on his face, "Let us cut down this traitor -- this fiend who dared to call us his comrades, and ride to save our lord and king!" 
Lady Arwen sighed. She watched as Sir Myles brandished his sword and made ready for battle. It seemed like it was just one tragedy after another -- battles and deaths falling far too frequently one each other's heels. 
"Sir Myles," she said, "Please, do not do this wicked thing! If you persist, it is likely that you and many of these knights will perish. Repent of your deed, or at the least, let us go in peace." 
Sir Myles laughed at them. "You couldn't possibly take this ground. If you all charge, only two can take me at once, and I shall be more than a match for them. You ask me to repent. Here is my answer. A life of evil, accompanied by comfort, is far better than the life of suffering you nobles lead. I'd infinitely rather live a life of power than a life of submission. The Council offers power; the Order offers death -- a death that you all will soon realize!" 
The knights sadly resigned themselves to a conflict they knew must come. As a last effort, Sir Bradley stepped forward. "Lady Arwen, this man has done evil and won't back down. We don't have to fight, though. We should simply wait until he falls asleep. He certainly can't stay standing forever. When he falls, we shall be able to escape." 
William, who had until then remained in the rear of the party, then spoke up. "I am afraid, my lord, that that simply will not do. While Sir Myles was speaking a few minutes ago, a small shadow came within view -- the shadow of, I thought, a child. That child was almost certainly one of Sir Myles' messengers, for it walked secretly and carefully, as though it did not want to be caught. During Sir Myles' explanation, I saw it pause, and then run swiftly away, no doubt to warn nearby followers of the Council. If this is the case, we cannot afford to wait any longer." 
The other knights agreed. Sir Myles still stood, laughing at the party, when Lady Arwen uttered the words, "Nobles, I give you permission to attack. For the Order, for the King, and for the Almighty!" 

Lord Arsoth was giddy with excitement. As he bound the true kings hands and feet, he laughed at muttered to himself, an evil grin overspreading his countenance.
"Oh, bless this day, the happiest day of my life!" He exclaimed shrilly. "You!" he said, pointing at one of his men, "You, bind his comrade there in the same fashion." Turning to the king he said in a condescending voice. "We certainly would not want our friends here to escape, now would we?"
The king did not reply. He suffered it bravely, quietly, praying the whole time for God to strengthen him for what lay ahead.
At the sound of the piercing cry, which, from the cave's mouth, was heard behind the invading army, Lord Arsoth's smile faded. A look to deep concern covered his face, the evil gleam in his eye turned into a look of panic.
"Who could that be?" he asked anxiously, giving the forest behind him a searching glance, scrutinizing it for any clues as to where that noise could be coming from.
"It sounds like a battle cry!" The soldier who had been ordered to tie Sir Walter replied.
"That indeed it does," the terrified Arsoth said, breathing heavily.
At that moment a huge fire began blazing not far in front and to the left of them, and the sound of many feet running was heard heading to their right.
Alarm spread through the troops. Each turned and looked about him, not sure in which direction to flee.
Lord Arsoth violently pushed King Archen against the cave wall, and turned about, himself just as confused as his band of soldiers. Trying desperately to regain his lordly calm, he shouted,
"Men! Let us go forward together to the clearing we discovered on out march hither, there we will be better prepared to face any onslaught that may occur.
"Although, I have not the faintest doubt that all we now witness is only caused by our own guard who have successfully captured the enemy trying to evade their just rewards.”
"For I am certain," he continued, laughing harshly as he kicked King Archen who lay motionless on the ground, feet and hands tied together behind his back, "that these dogs have not even enough followers to surround us so. We shall come back for these two just as soon as we discover the cause for such commotion."
But as he descended toward the clearing at the head of his troops, moving more of a run than a march, it was obvious that he himself did not believe what he had been saying.

As soon as the enemy had gone some distance, Sir Walter began cutting himself free as best he could, rubbing his cords against a rock. 
"My lord, the King!" he cried, "Are you all right?" 
"I am well," laughed the king, "Except for the fact that I'm not as young as I once was and being twisted up like this is not the most agreeable position." 
"Praise be to the Lord!" Sir Walter sighed and closed his eyes in silent thanksgiving. "In a moment I shall be free and will come untie you. We must hurry before they return. Whatever do you think is causing all that noise? What do you think has become of our friends?"

CHAPTER 12 
The voices Rowan heard were both those of young boys. Even before they came into view, Rowan could make out some of their rapid conversation. 
"--would greatly help my family. Lord Drakin, though cruel at times, pays well, and I am sure that my information would please him greatly." 
"I suppose. This tunnel is incredible! We have been walking for quite sometime. I wonder how long it took to build... how did you come across it again?"
"Sir Myles told me about it yesterday. He said it was the quickest way to inform Lord Drakin of the latest developments. Although he said some rocks would be in the way, he believed I would be able to uncover the opening. That is why I brought you." 
"I am glad you did. This is amazing!" 
Rowan sat back in astonishment. These children were messengers for Sir Myles, and in league with Lord Drakin? That would mean that Sir Myles, a knight whom Rowan had befriended during his time with the other nobles, was nothing less than a traitor! Anger began swelling up in his breast, and he began to have evil thoughts toward Sir Myles. However, he remembered a conversation he had with Sir Quinn a long time ago. 
He had been angry when a young boy about his age named Britton had gone up to him, laughed in his face, and called him "an ordinary orphan," even though he was a Count. He was tempted to respond with violence towards the boy, for his lack of knowledge regarding his parents had always been a sore spot in his heart. Sir Quinn, however, had wisely intervened. "Do not get angry, my lad, at what others do to you. They may not follow the Almighty, and if that be the case, how can we expect them to want the faith we have. That young lad insulted you and falsely called you an orphan, a story I cannot tell you now. It may be God's plan that showing kindness to him can win him to God." Although he had not fully understood his words, Rowan responded with kindness towards Britton, even though it was unpleasant. Eventually, through continued kindness, he had actually become quite good friends with Britton and they knew each other almost as brothers. Britton also came to know the Lord through the way Rowan treated him. 
Count Rowan smiled at this recollection. He resolved that, through the strength of God, he would not bear enmity toward Sir Myles if ever he should meet him. He then turned and waited until the young boys came into view. 
Rowan could hear that the boys were very close. Their footsteps echoed throughout the tunnel. 
"I think the opening is right around this corner, Asher." Rowan could plainly hear all they said. 
They came around the turn, and to their astonishment, they saw a dark eyed, handsome young man, despite the fact that he was a bit unkempt. 
The boys themselves were fair-haired, like most of the people of that part of the country, and had well-rounded figures. They were not much more than twelve years old, and there was a look of excitement in their eyes, a look that very often comes into the eyes of young boys who are upon an adventure. 
With a cry they jumped back into the tunnel. Rowan realized that he could learn quite a bit about what the Council knew from the information held by the two boys. He called after them. "Wait! Please come back!" 
The two boys replied,"You are a convict! We dare not. Come on, let's leave." 
"I am no convict," Rowan said again. "I am a free man." Rowan considered adding "now" to the end of his statement, but he thought better of it. The two boys inched nearer to the light, still showing doubt on your faces. 
"See, I have no chains, and the door is wide open." 
The boys noticed this and their uneasiness gradually disappeared at the sight of Rowan cheerful face. 
"What are your names?" 
"I am Isaac, and this is Asher," said the taller of the two boys. 
"What are you doing here?" asked Rowan. 
The boys thought for a minute and conversed among themselves, then said, "We are trying to warn the commander of a dreadful combat that is about to take place, if it has not already. We are trying to aid one of Lord Drakin's most trusted soldiers, Sir Myles, to destroy a great party of rebels. You won't tell anyone, will you?" 
"I will try not to, but please, tell me more about this battle." 
"I cannot say any more, for I don't know much else, other than the location of the fight, which is very near the town on the other side of this tunnel. I did hear that Sir Bradley is among the rebels, though. Anyway, I think it is time we went to see Lord Drakin." 
With an outward smile but with inward agony, Rowan watched as the two boys left his cell and went off towards the dungeon entrance. Quickly realizing that he would need speed to help his comrades, he carefully picked up the body of Sir Quinn, which fortunately Asher and Isaac had not noticed, and ran into the tunnel. 
Rowan knew he did not have much time before the Council’s soldiers exited the castle when they heard the news brought by those boys. They might notice him. He ran down the tunnel as silently as he could. After a time, he could finally see daylight in the distance. He stopped in his tracks. He thought he heard the moan of a man. Voices. Rowan knew that if this was the soldiers of the Council….no, not now, not as he was approaching freedom?!?! He suddenly stood erect as he heard what he thought to be familiar voices. He approached nearer. 
“We desperately need supplies. I thought you said, Sir Elviron, that a town full of provisions was here? It is of no fault of your own, of course, that it is destroyed, but I think it would have been better had we found a halting place not so close to Carivia and better suited to treating the Count’s leg.” 
“You are quite right. However, you well know that Carivia is not so dangerous as may seem. We have a refuge there.” 
“I am afraid that the dispatch probably revealed that refuge. Lady Arwen and Sir Quinn, if they escaped, would be near here. That is the main reason I brought us to this place.” 
Rowan’s eyes lit up with joy, friends were right out side the cave! Friends. Rowan started running, but not before he reverently placed Sir Quinn’s body at the cave’s entrance. 
“What was that?” Exclaimed the Baron DuBatz in a warning tone as he caught the sound of footsteps. 
“It’s me, Baron!” Then in a quieter tone, “Rowan.” 
Rowan emerged from behind a large charred tree. 
“Rowan! It’s certainly good to see you here. Where are Sir Quinn and Lady Arwen?” 
“Sir Quinn…has fallen. I do not know the whereabouts of Lady Arwen.” 
All three of the men gasped at the death of their friend, who they knew has an honest, chivalrous, and brave knight. 
“That is indeed a tragedy.” Said the Count of Terema, with a sadden look of his face. 
Suddenly Rowan remembered Isaac and Asher and their story. “Baron, I believe some of our friends are in danger.” He then explained to them the whole story of the boys and the part about Sir Myles being one of Sir Drakin’s most trusted soldiers. 
“This is serious. We must see to this matter.” 
As the four men went slowly onward, careful to avoid further injury to the Count of Terema’s broken leg. 
“Count, What has happened to your leg? Is it badly injured?” 
At this statement all three knights burst into laughter. 
“What’s so funny?” Asked Rowan inquisitively. 
“It is rather a humorous. I was riding my horse and sudde-“ 
Suddenly, they stopped short, as they heard the sound of clashing metal, and they as they came to the entrance of a three walled cavern and saw Sir Bradley, Sir Caston, fighting in mortal combat against Sir Myles. At that moment, Sir Elviron stated with surprise, 
“Well, at least we found th-“ 
As they all looked on, they gasped in horror as Sir Myles dealt a mortal blow to Sir Bradley. 

"Kathryn, I know this is hard for you, but we're going to have to wait." Britton said, trying to deny what he knew he had to do.
"Britton, I can't! Gradlem has a family! William, me, his wife, and his children! We can't let him die!" Tears began to trickle down Kathryn's cheeks as she tried to run towards the battle.
"No! Wait." Britton took a deep breath and stepped in front of her. "I will go. You must continue on the mission that Lady Arwen sent you on. I will go to find Gradlem." He pulled his sword out of his scabbard and saluted. "I go to fulfill your request, Lady Kathryn!"
Kathryn didn't smile. "Be careful, Britton." She turned away towards the dungeon, then turned back. "Please, Britton. Don't die!"
With those words, Kathryn turned and ran towards the dungeon.
"Dear God," Britton prayed as he watched her leave. "Please protect us both."
With those words, Britton turned on his heel and headed for the high wall.
He knew that, whatever he did, it would have to be fast and well-executed. Although he still doubted whether any in the courtyard were alive, he pressed on with the goal of at least finding out their fate.
He reached the wall and, without finding means of scaling it, he looked around rapidly. There, at the right side of the massive gate that led into the yard, he saw a door that led into the second wall of Carivia's fortifications. Upon testing it, he found with delight that it was open. He peered in cautiously and, when his eyes got used to the light, he saw that a staircase went spiraling up to the right, leaden to the top of the wall. He knew that, by climbing this staircase, he would be able to see what was going on below, so he set out at a run, taking three stairs at a time.
A large oaken door met him at the top. He opened it one sliver at a time and saw in the dying light that there were dozens of captives on the walls! By the state of their clothes, he knew that they had but recently been in the dungeons. He wondered how they could have escaped, and where Lord Traius's massive forces were.
"Perhaps these criminals rose up against Lord Traius," he thought. "In that case, there is a chance Gradlem could be alive! Then again, their faces don't look particularly friendly. I wish I could see down into the courtyard from here!"
Britton jumped back when he saw two men coming nearer towards the door, armed with great sticks. He prayed desperately that they would not open the door and discover him. Fortunately, the two men stopped just outside the door. They had merely been trying to light torches by placing a special oil on their sticks. Containers of the oil were scattered all over the castle, as Britton well knew. The terror of the two men, however, had driven it completely out of his memory.
"How long does it take to starve a person into submission?," one of the two released prisoners asked.
"I don't know. A couple of days perhaps. Just be happy we were able to convince Lord Traius not to slay them all."
"You are right. Freedom is precious, but I would not like to have it at the cost of others' lives."
"Lord Traius has been growing more anxious," the second man said nervously.
"I know. I think he is starting to change his mind. I feel sure the order will be given for us to fire upon them. I just don't understand their stubbornness."
"It's that red-headed fellow – Gidlaim, or something like that – that has caused it. I heard that he gave Lord Traius quite the tongue-lashing before we were released."
"He deserved it too, the brute! Still, if the garrison refuse to save their own lives, Evron, I see no reason why we should hesitate to save our own. If they don't take the opportunity to save themselves, why should we risk all for them?"
The second man paused. "I suppose you are right. Still, I wish there was something I could do."
"What can you do? Lord Traius is watching every move from that tower of his, and his men are patrolling the walls. If you make a wrong move, they will be upon you, and not only them, but the scum of the dungeons would gladly turn you in for reward."
"I don't know. I just wish I could do something."
Britton smiled. He knew what could be done. He rushed down the stairs and made for the dungeons. He had to find some rags, such as a convict would wear, and hurriedly. The lives of hundreds might depend on it.

Chapter 13

"King Archen, and Sir Walter, follow me," said a voice behind the king. He turned and looked at the person before him. He was a tall man with a shining face and blond hair. "I am Landon."
Sir Walter and King Archen slowly stood up, upon finding that their bonds were gone. The man started walking through the passageway, and the two followed. Soon they had reached the end of the tunnel, and Landon stopped.
"Your comrades are safe and making their way to a place of refuge. Fear not, gallant men," said Landon. "For the Lord is with you. Let Him carry you to the finding of your son, Archen, and to victory!"
And as quickly as he had appeared, the man was gone.
"King Archen," said Sir Walter in a shaky voice. "I believe that man was an angel sent from the Almighty!"
"Indeed, I think the same, my good knight," replied King Archen. "Now, let us find our comrades and escape!"
Sir Bradley screamed in agony as Sir Myles' sharp blade penetrated deep into his shoulder. Sir Myles chortled evilly as he turned to face Sir Caston.
"Surrender now while you're still concious, foolish knight," Sir Myles taunted, "Or you shall taste the death of my sword as well."
"Never!" shouted Sir Caston.
Sir Caston bravely charged toward the evil knight, but it was clear that Sir Myles' taunting words were not empty. Sir Caston was tiring rapidly and his strokes were more careless and unprecise. In one last final effort, Sir Caston thrust his sword towards Sir Myles' heart, but Sir Myles side-stepped the blow, and sent his own sword crashing down upon th blade of Sir Caston. Sir Caston's blade clattered to the ground and Sir Myles reeled back for the final blow. Just the , a lone silhouette of a figure came flying over the edge of the cliff behind Sir Myles and landed right on Myles' back. The two rolled across the rocky ground and then at the same time shot back into the air. All of Lady Arwen's party gawked in surprise as the sun shone brightly on the face of the newcomer–Rowan!
Sir Myles quickly recovered himself and mockingly laughed at the newcomer, " Who do you think you are to challenge me… boy!"
Rowan was tempted to flame up into anger, but he recalled his thoughts about Myles in the dungeon of Carivia, and simply said, " I am a humble knight of the true king of Kornaiden, and in the name if the king, I shall put an end to your traitorous doings." Rowan didn't flinch and stood tall with his sword drawn.
The braveness of the young man made Sir Myles slightly cower, but he quickly gathered his strength and aimed a full-force blow for Rowan's head. Rowan parried the cut, and countered with a combina-tion of cuts and slices of his own, putting Myles slowly in the retreat. While in prison, he had been longing for battle, and now he had the chance of a duel, he was putting all his heart into it. The duel went on for some time, but at last Myles took a careless slice, which Rowan quickly parried and then sent his own sword towards Myles' heart. Myles was unable to recover and Rowan's blade went clear through Myles' chest and out his back.
Rowan pulled back and Myles fell to the ground with his face a crimson red, and his eyes bulging and spewing out hatred. His jaw dropped and his expression was one of disbelief but slowly changed into one of deep recognition.
"Surely… you are…," he stopped and clutche his chest in pain. Then he spoke his dying words, "the Prince!"
Rowan started. As Sir Myles fell dead, he became lost in a stupor. A combination of his still-healing wounds, the fury with which he fought, and the shock at the words of Sir Myles made him unable to respond even as his friends gathered around, laughing and crying.
This state of confusion lasted for several moments, but Rowan soon shook it off and began questioning his friends and being questioned by them.
"How did you get here?," Lady Arwen finally asked. "We had given you and Sir Quinn up for dead when the tunnel collapsed. How could you have survived?"
Rowan answered, "It is rather a long story, Lady Arwen, but I will say that we escaped Lord Drakin's torture chambers through great effort and tried to make our way here. Unfortunately, in the process, Sir Quinn lost his life."
Gasps came from the other knights and nobles. Sir Quinn was one of the most loved of the Order, and his death dealt everyone a serious blow. Slowly, and with great effort, Lady Arwen responded, "He is with the Almighty now." Everyone gave an inward assent at her words.
"Rowan," asked Sir Caston, "how were you able to arrive so quickly? Did you come through the tunnel Lady Arwen told me about? It was certainly providential that you arrived when you did. Had you been any later, I should have certainly fallen by Sir Myles' sword."
"I was able to remove the rocks that blocked the tunnel and to travel through it. Still, I would not have arrived in time had I not had the help of Sir Elviron, the Baron DuBatz, and the Count of Terema."
At that point the three knights rode through the narrow opening, smiles on their faces. They were also greeted with great enthusiasm by the other knights.
Stories continued to be shared. Groups gathered to hear the experi-ences each had during the last few weeks. Some laughter was heard, but weeping was more frequent. Soon all began to set about burying those who fell in the fight, namely Sir Bradley and Sir Myles. As they worked, they discussed the sad incident.
"Sir Myles was a vile traitor," said Sir Caston. "All this time, he appeared to be as motivated as we were, while all the while he was giving away information that could have led to our deaths."
Sir Elviron then spoke up. "We must work to ensure that such an incident does not happen again."
The other knights nodded their heads.
"Rowan," asked Lady Arwen, "you were there as Sir Myles fell, and you witnessed his last words, although we were too far away to hear. Did he give any indication that there were other spies in our midst?"
Rowan was silent for a moment. He decided that it would not be wise to say that he was recognized as a prince. In the first place, he did not believe in Sir Myles' words. In the second place, he felt that it would be arrogant or inappropriate to so set himself up above his comrades, all of whom he looked up to, by claiming that he was a form of royalty.
For these reasons, he merely answered, "No, Lady Arwen. Nothing of importance was said."
With that, the knights continued their work, held a solemn burial service, and set about to make their plans for the future.
Britton hurried as fast as caution would permit as he made his way to the dungeons. He knew his plan was risky, but he now felt sure that it was what he had been called to do. Even if it cost his life.
Britton had been orphaned at a very young age, and for many years he had raised himself. He had done whatever pleased him and lived only for himself. That is, until he met Gradlem.
Gradlem had found Britton on the worst day of his life, sitting outside the castle against a tree, quietly sobbing. Britton had said something very cruel and spiteful to the young Count of the castle, and now was sorry he had said it. Not because he felt any guilt for behaving so wickedly, but because he was sure the Count would punish him and send him away, and he couldn't bear the idea of humiliation.
He had just decided that he would leave now and not wait to be sent away, when he stood up and saw a tall young soldier smiling down on him. Britton shrunk back a little from him at first but the soldier was very kind to him and finally succeeded in getting the little boy blurt out everything that had happened.
Over the next few months, the young soldier met with Britton often, even sharing his meals with Britton and taking him to his house to spend the nights so the boy wouldn't have to sleep in the stables as he usually did. The soldier taught him about the Lord, and how God had sent His Son to die in their place, and that he could not truly be an orphan if he had a Father in Heaven.
Britton's life was never the same after that, even though he often failed, he no longer lived for himself, but for Him that had loved him and died for him.
Gradlem had also been the first to introduce Britton to Kathryn and William. They treated the young orphaned boy as a brother. Not only had Gradlem showed the boy that he had a Heavenly Father, but he and his cousins also acted the part of an earthly family for the lad.
And now, thinking back over his life, and blushing a little as he thought of his first meeting with Gradlem and the Count of Carivia, Britton silently prayed for his Lord to help him and strengthen him in this endeavor to rescue the man who had first lead him to the Throne of the King.
Out of breath, he finally arrived at the dungeon. He was, for a mo-ment, surprised that there were no guards on duty, then he remem-bered with embarrassment that that was because there were no prisoners to guard. Still running at the top of his speed, he grabbed some convict’s clothing from the prison store room. He turned around to run back to the wall, but ran into a small figure – Kathryn!
“Why are you here Britton?” Asked Kathryn inquisitively. “You are supposed to be saving lives!”
“Well, so are you,” He said with a smile. “This is part of my plan. Have you found Count Rowan and Sir Quinn yet, Kathryn?”
“No. I can’t find them anywhere. I am getting nervous.”
“ I’m sure you’ll find them. I don’t have much time. I have to go!” And with that he raced out of the dungeon to execute his plan.
Britton crept toward the walls of the Courtyard where the released prisoners were at their stations by the catapults and other various machines. It was a rather difficult task to avoid attention because he was wearing the clothes of a convicted criminal. Slowly he went along, his eyes darting in all directions to notice any moving forms.
He slipped onto the walls unnoticed though the same door he had looked through only minutes before. He looked around. Britton wondered where Evron was. He was vital to carrying out his scheme. The short stalky man had been a noticeable character last time but Britton could not find him amongst the vast gathering of fugitives and soldiers. It was some time before the young man found the object of his search. The older man was leaning against the wall behind a catapult. He was the only one within hearing distance, which meant a grand opportunity.
“Evron! Evron!,” Whispered the boy. Evron looked around sharply. Seeing no one, he went back to his musing. Britton sighed. He’d have to get closer. He slowly walked up.
“Evron, Don’t look at me but listen to me closely.” Said Britton leaning against the same wall and speaking with clenched teeth.
“What do you want?” Said Evron, speaking in the same manner.
“Do you like what Lord Trauis is doing?”
“Of course not! No one does. He is about to kill innocent men.”
“Do you want to help save those men?”
It took Evron some time to take this in. Some young convict boy was going to try to save hundreds maybe thousands of men? And he wanted his help? This must be a trap. He did want to save the men, but if this was a trap… No, he couldn’t help. He looked at the young man out of the corner of his eye. His face was determined as if he was going to do this no matter what. His eyes expressed hope for help from him. What could he say?
“Yes, young man. What is your plan?”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
That same night, King Archen and Sir Walter cautiously made their way towards the cave’s secret entrance, still quietly discussing their mysterious visitor. They carefully picked their way over the smoulder-ing embers of the fire Sir Desmond had made and then, grunting in pain from their many wounds, swung themselves onto the forest floor, breathing slowly and deeply.
“My king,” asked Sir Walter in a whisper. “Do you think that they could have survived? The two hundred men Lord Arsoth spoke of might have proved too much for our friends.”
King Archen shook his head. “I have hope, Sir Walter, that they are still alive. I see no sign of the men Arsoth spoke of. Perhaps it was just a trick, meant to make us think there was no escape. Any way, that commotion near the cave entrace was sure to have called the soldiers, if thy existed, to that location. Finally, the man who helped us to escape told us that they were all right, and I have no doubt as to his honesty. Of course we should still be careful, but I think that, right now, we have little to fear. We shall trust in God for protection. He has preserved us this far, and I believe he will continue to do so.”
“You speak the truth, my king,” replied Sir Walter with a louder and more confident tone. “What do you think our plan should be now? Should we see what caused that battle by the cave mouth? The attackers could very well have been a party of the Order, in which case we should provide assistance. We could also make for one of the western or southern refuges.”
“They are known by the Council, Sir Walter. I am afraid that option is not wise at the moment. Your first idea might be a good one, but I think that there is too much danger of being discovered. I would suggest that we head toward the south, not to enter one of our customary refuges, but to find a new one and to meet with our friends who might not have heard of the danger we are all in. I remember passing through a friendly village near Forenton that seemed loyal to the Order. I think we should make for that.”
“As you wish, my king. I do wish we knew what the commotion was about, though. The timing seems almost miraculous.”
“That it does. But then, the truly miraculous is often not visible to our eyes. The greatest miracles mant times are those we don’t see, just as the bravest and strongest of hearts are not in those who appear brave and strong, but in those who, although small and inexperi-enced, have hearts like lions. I may be wrong, Sir Walter, but I think that the greatest of miracles take place within people and individuals; maybe that is what the Almighty intended. Flash and fire are powerful in their way, but the true mighty acts of God are so often the steady pull of His love. Little by little, piece by piece, a heart is transformed through his mercy and grace. Yes, the conflict was miraculous; but just as miraculous are the tranformations that occur every day within people. Those are acts that I will always admire. I only wish that the Almighty will someday see fit to transform the heart of…”
The King trailed off in deep contemplation. Sir Walter rose, staring at the king with a smile.
“Truly, my king, you were meant to be a poet. You are wiser than I, a fact I will never dispute. I think, though, that it is safe to be on our way.”
With that, the pair made their way into the darkness, their hearts bright with the light of hope.

(I have a recommendation for Rowan's new name that I thought was pretty good. What do you all think of changing his name to Warren? It's pretty similar to his present name, and I think it fits well with him. Does anyone like it? :) )

(I REALLY like that name! What do you all say? SBG, did you like any of the name ideas for Sir Quinn and Lady Arwen?)

(Thanks! :) I hoped you'd like it. :)

I think, for Sir Quinn, my favorite name is Sir Clifton. For Lady Arwen, my favorite is Lady Ariana. :) )

(SBG! What do you think of your getting a new little sister? :D BTW I like that name!)

(EDIT: Jimmy- I think there already is a character named Asher, correct?)

(@Rachel: I know, but if we liked it, I was thinking we could edit Asher's name to something else. :) )

(Makes sense. Well, I don't think it fits Rowan. ;-) )

(Personally, I didn't think so, either. :) )

(I really like Lady Adelaide - it just sounds sweet like she is supposed to be. Honestly, I don't want to change sir Quinn's name but if we must, I like sir john. Sir Edmund is a name from sir quinlan and the swords of valorous book. Btw, the koa books are more around 200 pages. I like Warren as a suggestion for rowan.)

(Well, Sir Quinn doesn't necessarily HAVE to be changed unless you all think that Sir Quinlan is too closely related to Sir Quinn. If you don't think so, we can keep the name. :) I like Adelaide too, By the way. :) )

(My favorites are Quinn as Simon or Quentin and Lady Arwen as Lady Ariana. I'm not sure about Rowan though…)

Evron looked up with a smile after hearing Britton's scheme. "I think your idea might work. It is dangerous and hare-brained, but still, I think it might work. What is your name, friend?"

"My name is Britton. I am not really a convict, but I am determined to rescue the garrison and I felt this disguise would be the best way to go about it. I do look odd, though."

"No odder than the rest of us," laughed Evron quietly. "Still, I have to warn you that to carry out your plan we will need more than just the two of us. Having been in solitary confinement for nigh on three years, I have no real knowledge of the hearts of these men. Many were imprisoned rightfully for crimes they committed – murderers, thievs, and the like. There are also those who were sentenced by Lord Drakin unlawfully for merely violating a minor ordinance. These men burn with hatred at the castle and would be glad to harm anyone associated with Lord Drakin. Still others, regardless of their kind hearts, would do anything just to be free – just to live." Evron sighed. "I was imprisoned simply for leaving the castle to carry a message to my family. I bear no real enmity for the garrison, but only for Lord Drakin, who is now dead. I am sure there are others who feel as I do, who shun the shedding of blood, but I could never find out who they are."

Britton looked up, he spirits slightly dampened at the older man's words.

"Leave that to me, Evron."

With that, Britton turned from the catapult and was about to walk away, when Evron laid a hand on his shoulder.

"Do not think, Britton, that you will certainly escape notice. Lord Traius is master at present, and he and his men see all." He paused and subtly pointed toward a low tower built into the wall. "Lord Traius constantly keeps watch from that point. We are convicts, Britton, to him, and any suspicion of treachery will bring his men upon us. If he can kill the garrison, he can certainly kill you."

Britton nodded and walked off toward the men, Evron watching him with a nervous glance.

Britton appeared to be doing his job well. He quickly entered into conversation with convicts, talking to them and frequently laughing. After a time, he would walk away, leaving the convicts where they were or pointing them to the catapult where Evron was stationed. Britton was almost halfway around the wall, and Evron entered into earnest conversation with the five men who had joined him.

Suddenly, Evron looked up with surprise as he heard an oaken door opening. He turned his head sharply to look. Behind the same door where Britton had been eavesdropping only minutes before, a dark figure had emerged and was headed toward them. As Evron looked more closely, he saw a red dragon emblazed upon the figures black garments. He knew what was going to happen.

"You men," the dark warrior called to the six convicts gathered around Evron's catapult, "Lord Traius has ordered you to fire down upon the garrison. He has been patient too long. Send the message down the line."

The six men were silent. They bore a look of determination upon their face that was all too evident.

"Well, you have the order, so fire. On pain of death, fire!"

The men silently looked over the courtyard walls. There, silently walking around in anxious and despairing manner, were a crowd of men, hundreds strong. The convicts grew more angry by the moment. Evron steadied them and replied. "We shall not do as you have said. We cannot slay the lives of men who have stood for what they believe to be the truth."

"How dare you!" shouted the guard, drawing his sword. By this time, the surrounding convicts had rushed to the scene. The men knew the evil within many of their hearts. If Lord Traius condemned the six to death, he would certainly reconsider releasing the rest, who could also be treacherous. Britton, too, had rushed up, striving anxiously to reach the six men.

The black soldier ordered them one last time to fire upon the garrison. They were just about to refuse, when Evron called out with a slight smile, "Men, it is useless to resist. They want us to fire, and so we shall."

The other five men, instantly understanding him, turned the catapult at an angle, so as to point it toward the great castle gate, the center of the three exits to the courtyard. The garrison jumped back, terrified lest the catapults should fire on them.

With a great shout, Evron cried out, "Fire!." Instantly, a great stone was seen streaming through the air and hurtling into the castle gate. Although strong, it was not designed to withstand such a strong blow at so close a range. It was broken open with a great crash, at which the garrison gave a great shout.

Lord Traius' soldier and the scum of the dungeons, however, were outraged. They instantly made for the six convicts.

Britton, who had watched with amazement the success of his original plan, now saw with horror that his only allies were to be destroyed without mercy. At the moment when it was needed most, he had no plan.

EDIT: Sorry about the length. I was trying to add a little more to jumpstart y'all's participation. If we add some more, we will have more material to work with. I hope that is all right. :)

(Oh, wow!!! You are such a good writer! :)

Do you think I could switch to a different scene? or is it too soon?)

(Nice addition! :D )

(That's incredible! Great job!! :) I'll try to write soon…
@Rachel, Well, that too:) but I was meaning I'm not the only one who's sad it's almost finished=D)

(Oh, okay. :) )

Wow I haven't been on in a while…..Jimmy I really Really REALLY like your names! My favorites are probably, Sir Quinn: Sir Clifton, Lady Arwen: Lady Adelaide. Rowan…………NOT S0 much……..But I like Warren. I wish we did not have to change his name though. I think I am going to add was anyone planing too?