“You are Garl’s sister?” asked MistyTrail. “He mentioned you to us when we lived with him in the village.”
“That I am,” nodded Gamara. “And he told me of you two when he visited the city to search the royal vaults. I am so thrilled that you have returned. I just wish that Avalar was alive to see it.”
MistyTrail frowned at the old woman, her mind searching her memory banks to find what was suddenly gnawing at her.
The door opened again and then closed. Garl entered and crossed the room. He hugged his sister and kissed her cheek.
“I told you he would be here soon,” smiled Gamara.
“The whole city is in search of this column of soldiers,” commented Garl as he broke the embrace. “It is only a matter of time before they realize who was smuggled out of the prison.”
Tamar turned to face his men. “I am forever indebted to you men,” he said. “You have accomplished a great deed today by freeing the lost princesses from prison. I can ask no more of you. I release each of you to return to your stations so that you are not hunted down by the army.”
“Our faces have already been seen,” replied Fengri. “It would be foolish of us to return to our posts now.”
“Some faces may indeed be remembered,” nodded Tamar, “some may not. It is up to each man to weigh the consequences of his actions from this point forward. I fully expect to be hunted down and executed. I will not think ill of any man who chooses not to stay with me, for to do so invites almost certain death.”
“I would not have come this far if I did not believe in you and the lost princesses,” declared Lortar. “I am with you to the end.”
Ripples of agreement spread through the soldiers, but Garl stopped it by raising his arms above his head.
“Even if you decide to stand against the army that will come,” stated Garl, “the princesses will not be staying. They must begin their search for the lost king. They must leave Elvangar.”
“We plan to leave by ship,” interjected Mistake. “I would like someone who knows how to sail to accompany us. I have tried sailing and failed at it.”
“I will take you wherever you want to go,” promised Tamar.
“Then you men should know that they might stand alone against the army,” nodded Garl. “Are you men still enthused to give up your lives?”
“Tamar and the princesses are not yet on the ship,” replied Fengri. “I would not like to see them fail because I was fearful of my life. Count me in.”
“And me,” added Lortar. “To return to my post is to forfeit my life. I will take my chances in the jungle until the princesses return.”
The rest of the soldiers added their agreeing voices to chorus. Tamar smiled and the men and nodded.
“Now all we have to do is steal a ship,” declared Tamar.
“We know where a ship is hidden,” offered Mistake. “We have to get to Alamanda.”
“Through Etta is the best path,” declared Garl. “That may well be one of the first places the army searches.”
“Then we should move out quickly,” declared Tamar. “Speed will be our defense against capture.”
“Avalar?” MistyTrail suddenly asked as she came out of her trance. “Did you say Avalar?”
“Yes,” nodded Gamara. “That was the king’s name. Your father was King Avalar.”
“Not was,” MistyTrail said excitedly. “Is. Avalar is alive.”
“I knew it,” Garl said triumphantly. “I was sure that I would have felt his death. How do you know he is alive?”
“I saw him,” replied MistyTrail. “He is on the Island of Darkness.”
“What are you talking about?” frowned Mistake. “We never saw him on the Island of Darkness. I would remember.”
“You did not see him,” replied MistyTrail. “Do you remember when Eltor posed as a Motangan soldier and marched us through the prisoner cages?”
“How could I forget?” Mistake shivered as she recalled the episode.
“In the very last cell was a single male elf,” explained MistyTrail. “He was by himself, but he was different than the rest of the prisoners. He was calm and at peace with himself. It was as if his imprisonment had not affected his demeanor.”
”I do remember you mentioning a strange elf in the last cage,” frowned Mistake, “but that is quite a leap to assume that it was our father.”
“Granted,” nodded MistyTrail, “but he spoke to me. He said but a single word, and I did not understand what he was trying to tell me. That single word was Avalar. He said it so calmly and self assuredly. I guess any other elf would have immediately known what he was saying, but I was not from Elvangar. I hope he did not despair from my lack of understanding.”
“Then we must return to the Island of Darkness,” Mistake swallowed hard.
“Yes,” MistyTrail nodded nervously. “It is a journey that does not cause me great joy, but we will rescue our father or die trying.”
“It is time for you to flee,” interrupted Garl. “Take your men out the back, Tamar. Always keep the princesses protected.”
“You are not coming?” asked Mistake.
“No,” answered Garl. “There is work for me yet in Morada. Volox, Anija, and the boys are in danger. I am the only one who can help them. Leave now, and I will do what I can to slow down your pursuers.”
Tamar nodded and ordered his men to get ready. Fengri opened the front door and gazed out. He signaled that the way was clear. Mistake hugged Garl goodbye, while MistyTrail gently kissed Gamara’s cheek. In moments the group was outside the small house and entering the forests along a well-beaten path.
Garl followed the group at a distance. When they finally rounded a bend and passed out of sight, the old man raised his arms in a magical dance. As his hands swayed back and forth, buds erupted through the hard packed soil of the trail. Long stalks followed the buds, and soon the entire pathway and the floor of the forest around it erupted into dense foliage. Garl continued his magical spell as the thicket spread in every direction. When he was done, Garl smiled in satisfaction. Whether the army detoured around the thicket or tried to cut through it, they would waste over an hour. Garl turned and strode towards the city center.
He passed dozens of soldiers searching every nook and cranny of the city. They searched every alleyway and left sentries on every corner as they tried to close the city down.
* * *
“That is all she said?” asked Volox. “Release the spell?”
“Well,” hemmed the guard, “it was a little more than that, but it made no sense.”
“This Council will determine if it makes sense of not,” retorted Volox. “Tell us exactly what she said.”
The guard nodded and answered, “She said ‘Stop it. Release the spell. You are hurting our mother.’”
“You are hurting our mother?” echoed Volox.
“So the foreigners are deranged,” snapped Malid. “That does not excuse their behavior.”
“No,” countered Volox as he took the scroll out and passed it to the elder next to him, “but maybe this will explain the words used.”
“What is that?” asked Malid angrily. “What is in that scroll?”
“Read it aloud,” Volox urged the elder who held it.
The elder read the entire scroll. Many of the elders were shocked to hear the words, others frowned in confusion as they wondered what they were listening to.
“What is the nature of that scroll?” asked Amber. “Is this something that you made up as a joke? This is not a trivial matter that we are dealing with.”
“It is one of the later Prophecies of Kieran,” declared Volox. “It is a copy of course, but you can verify it against the original with the queen’s permission.”
“But we already know that we are in the Time of Calling from our research on the earlier Prophecies,” frowned one of the elders. “If this is truly coming to pass, then those foreign girls really are the lost princesses. We cannot possibly execute them until we learn the truth of this matter.”
“That is exactly my point,” Volox readily agreed.
A solider opened the door and stepped into the room. Malid turned to him with scorn etched on his face.