The Paladin Chronicles Book bundle 1-4 by Neil Port - HTML preview

* * *

Leaving the upper Mesopotamia behind, they were travelling due south, through the land of Knaʿn (Canaan), parallel to and just east of the coastal mountains.

It was the main trading route south to Aígyptos and they were passing some of the most beautiful and ancient cities in the world. The main Gypsy caravan didn't enter them, but there were groups constantly splitting off and re-joining the slower moving caravan as the Gypsies went in search of trade or money.

In the shelter of the coastal mountains, the land was dry outside any regions not irrigated. Summer had passed during their long journey. The middle of each day was still hot but the evenings were mild.

Until they passed the city of Hamath and left the busy southern route, it was hard to prevent strangers passing close to where they were hiding Elena, so she spent a lot of time imprisoned in her wagon.

Driving a Gypsy wagon over the desert roads isn't too bad when you get used to it. The strong metal brackets under the wooden driver's seat are designed to act like a spring, and the driver sits on leather or woven padding.

The driver can look ahead, and brace themselves against the rocking of the wagon by pushing their legs against the kick-board.

Riding in the back is a different matter, entirely. The rear has no suspension. The wagon sits on great heavy wooden wheels reinforced and shod with iron, all riding on an iron axle.

Elena, sitting in semi darkness, could not see what was coming on the road ahead. She couldn't brace herself. All she had in her corner were several pillows, blankets and six dusty sacks of grain. The wagon seemed to find every rut or bump or boulder or would shake like a man with blood fever as it picked up speed downhill. It was enough to rattle every single bone in her body and her teeth for good measure!

Sometimes those outside would hear a muffled squeal, a whispered Elvish curse or a soft thump, sometimes all three, as the wagon lurched in and out of some ditch. Also, the wagon was completely enclosed so there was no breeze in the midday heat, something elves really hated.

Anyone who had any choice was walking besides the wagon or mounted on a horse, but Elena never complained. She knew she brought danger to all who travelled with her. Even so, she would usually emerge at the end of each day looking a wreck.

As far as they could, the Gypsies travelled in a tight group and kept any strangers well away. They excused their bad manners by saying (truthfully) they had suffered one attack already. They said they had heard a rumour that some bandits had taken to infiltrating caravans before attacking them.

Whenever it was safe to do so, Elena, still in disguise, would join with Hakeem and Jacinta, walking besides the wagons in a large group of women and children and a few men.

Finally, they passed Hamath and took a side route going south and east, deeper into the desert.

Elena was pleased that Hakeem and Jacinta decided to join her walking on what promised to be her first complete day of freedom. She noticed Hakeem's eyes were constantly scanning their surrounds, especially every gully and hill. She looked at Jacinta on the other side to find her daughter was doing the same. They were probably no longer aware they did that.

Then Elena realised she was doing it too!

She'd been around these two too long.

"Isn't desert supposed to be all sand dunes?" she asked.

"We have that too, matok (sweet)," Hakeem agreed, "but you are talking about the deep desert where no one lives, that we call Ṣaḥrāʾ. This land we call Bādiyah, the desert where people can live.

"The people that live in this desert we call Badawiyyūn (Bedouins). My Shantawi are Badawiyyūn, which means desert dwellers."

Jacinta looked where her father was staring. Apart from dry gullies and hills, there was little to see, endless stretches of greyish-yellow soil, scattered coarse grasses and a few short tough shrubs.

In the distance on the hillsides she could see some sheep herders and their flock. It was all so depressing and dull. She wondered what the sheep found to eat.

"I hope Karsh looks better than this, aba'le (daddy)," Jacinta laughed. "Don't bother worrying about any invasion. No one would possibly want this terrible dreary home of yours."

Hakeem laughed back. "If you don't like this, think what it was like earlier in the main heat of summer. Even this land is beautiful, once you understand it, but if you wish to see something truly beautiful, wait till you see Karsh!

"We will be staying in the Qaṣba (citadel). It was the King's palace till the last King of Karsh thought he could take something from the desert tribes. We must have seemed peaceful at the time.

"Now we own Wādī Karsh and the people of Karsh are our people."

"Karsh!" he said softly, almost to himself, with a distant look. "I haven't realised how much I have missed it."

Elena and Jacinta exchanged a meaningful glance.

"Haven't you?" Jacinta asked in an incredulous tone. "Well mother and I certainly realise it. It's all you ever talk about lately. It's all 'Karsh this and Karsh that!'"

Hakeem snorted, it made sense to tell them about the city he was taking them to, didn't it? Well, perhaps he was proud of his city, all who came from it were.

"You are joining the Shantawi now, so I'll tell you more about water in the desert."

Elena and Jacinta groaned softly and exchanged a tortured expression.

Hakeem had been going on and on about the desert, almost as bad as Karsh, except he always mentioned the desert with grim seriousness, and he tended to lecture. Admittedly, Jacinta was his student, but did this include her being lectured about deserts?

"Water in the Bādiyah, is our greatest secret. Remember never share with outsiders what I am about to tell you. We know every small spring or well or seepage point. Each has a name and its nature is known." Hakeem began the lecture, oblivious of the reaction of his audience.

"We do not get much rain, but where we can, we collect it. In the better part, you might see ditches that collect all the runoff from a whole hillside draining to a small area or even a single tree. We also any desired plants from the harsh sun.

"In rocky outcrops, if you know how to look, you will see carved channels disguised as natural weathering, they lead to deep hidden cisterns. We also hide small clay pipes to bring water many miles in secret. We have had thousands of years to learn how to hide this from those who would know our secrets and use them to conquer us." He smiled and paused. "Even our rivers are secrets; someone who doesn't know our secrets will say that no rivers flow here except when it rains."

"Father!" Jacinta protested, laughing. "How can your endlessly clever Shantawi hide a river? There are no running rivers near Karsh!"

"They can hide them easily, our endlessly clever daughter," Elena laughed, replying for her husband. "They are underground."

"Limestone!" Jacinta guessed her eyes alight with wonder. She had peered into the deep sinkholes in central Anatolē.

"Limestone," Hakeem agreed. "There is much limestone deep beneath our deserts. Water dissolves limestone, but unimaginably slowly. So the limestone under the desert has many channels and water can seep through it very slowly. Underground rivers can also flow from the mountains.

"More than a day's ride from Karsh are the ruins of an ancient city. The ground swallowed it up like a great sink hole. When I have time, I will show the hidden way nearby that you can climb down to find an underground lake and a small beach."

"If that is how you get your water, what about the oases?" Jacinta asked.

"Most of the large oases that we just passed so far are fed by rivers from the mountains but not near Karsh. Ours are fed by springs. There are pools and even lakes where underground water comes to the surface, or we dig wells. If you see a lake deep in the desert, it will have springs in its bed to feed it.

"Our wādīs (valleys) only run when it rains, here or on the mountains. Only a fool camps in a dry wādī. If it is raining in the far mountains, you might not know. The dry river can go from nothing to a full flood before you have time to wake and move. No one unfamiliar with the desert should travel without a guide and lots of preparation."

By now, Hakeem had thoroughly convinced Jacinta and Elena that the desert held many lethal dangers.

They were about to encounter one more.

* * *

It was on the third morning after leaving Hamath that Elena woke with a fright.

It had been cool in the evening, and she and Hakeem were snuggled together, but where was he now?

The wind had picked up alarmingly during the night. Outside, she heard men shouting urgently, people running and horses screaming. Were they being attacked? Everything was very dark, was something on fire? Her elvish senses couldn't detect smoke but should she get ready to flee?

She tried to poke her head out of the wagon but the flap was tied tight against the wind. Just as she got her head out a little, she was abruptly shoved back by a Gypsy woman, yelling something at her in their dialect.

No need to push so hard, I can take a hint!

She felt the wagon move around and then come to a stop. Then above the wind she heard Hakeem. He was shouting something, some orders about the horses, as he jogged past.

If they were being attacked, the time for stealth was past and Hakeem would have warned her.

Then Hakeem was outside their wagon, tying extra sheets around it. Now she really was in darkness! Even he was having difficulty, battling hard against the wind that was now blowing a gale. She could hear a sheet was flapping furiously and making loud cracking noises as it flayed back and forwards in the wind.

Hakeem was trying to shout above the din, but what was he saying?

Habub?

What on earth was that? Habub? Elena sat puzzling.

She was an elf from the mountains.

Then it hit her! Habub, "powerful wind" in Aramaic.

Of course, a dust storm and it must be a big one.

Hakeem untied something and pushed his head into the wagon. He let in a shower of choking dust, causing Elena to cough and rub her eyes. It was impossible to see outside. He was wearing his keffiyeh (head-scarf) tied across his mouth and nose. Only his eyes showed. He quickly pushed in some dry rations, goat skins of water, and a bucket-toilet.

"Sorry meli, I won't be long. Everyone's safe, I've told them not to move about. You can't see anything out there." with that he was gone. She thought he said, "horses…" as he left.

The great desert windstorms start like powerful thunderstorms full of energy, carrying hot air very high up. As it chills high up, the storm centre collapses.

The little moisture it contains evaporates before reaching the ground, chilling it more.

So there is only a mighty blast of dry, chilled., air downwards from high up, but with no rain. Dust is much finer than sand so the wind sand-blasts across the dry land, charging the fine dust particles with static, adding to the cloud of dust streaming into the air.

Dust storms can blow up within a hundred heart beats till you can see nothing around you and they can last days. To wander about in one was simply fatal. You could miss a path by a few feet and never find it. For those unprepared with spare water, or the foolish, they are another of the many lethal tricks the desert plays.

With another shower of dust and a rocking and creaking from the wagon, Hakeem climbed back inside. He carefully packed his dusty robes in a corner and crawled over to give Elena a long passionate kiss. "I think we are about to find out a lot about each other over the next day or two, my love, I hope you will still like me after it's finished," he chuckled.

At last! Elena thought. She had more than one or two questions for her new husband.

But then something else occurred to Hakeem that they might do (other than talking) while they waited. They were newlyweds after all.

* * *

They were only four days from Karsh, when something frightening happened.

They had been up before first light, eager to camp at a small oasis ahead. The road was becoming crowded and their progress had slowed behind a long line of pilgrims and other travellers, most on foot, some on carts loaded with people or goods, all making for Karsh.

Everyone had to pull to one side while a large group of Shantawi horsemen thundered past moving north and kicking up dust as they went. They looked very grim and it took time for them all to pass. There must have been close to a thousand of them.

Hakeem was riding close to the van and Jacinta moved her horse closer to her father. She had strung her bow and was slinging her quiver over her shoulder. "What's happening, father?"

"I don't know meli, but stay very close. They have raised the tribes."

He glanced anxiously to the covered wagon where Elena was hidden. Whatever caused them to raise the tribes would be very serious. Something like this hadn't happened for over a hundred years.

Should he offer his help? He didn't want to leave Jacinta and Elena and their new friends on the road in danger.

Half a turn of the glass later, they came upon a group of well-armed militia, fifty or so resting by the side of the road. Despite seeming at ease, they were watching everyone with intensity and their hands didn't stray far from their weapons. Hakeem dismounted and led his horse over to talk to them. Jacinta hung back with her cousin Garran and two other young Gypsy men.

Hakeem didn't use his real name but showed he was an officer. The sergeant and his men stood and saluted. As they were chatting, the sergeant was fingering a ram's horn he used for signalling. Then they burst into loud laughter together. Hakeem thanked his new friend and mounted to ride back, his face was split in a wide grin and his eyes twinkling.

"Don't worry," he said as he came closer. "Do you remember those armed groups that were searching for a certain elf princess and the new warlord? Well, someone found out about it here.

"The reaction was just as violent as you can imagine. They have declared a Ǧihād against them!"

Jacinta felt a thrill of fear. 'Ǧihād', means a struggle, to fulfil a holy duty to one's God. It is not necessarily always violent, but it often is.

The Shantawi were certainly not a forgiving race.

Someone was hunting their paladin and a royal elf in his care. Their reaction was swift and brutal. They would be hunted down and killed, no matter how long it took now.

"I think Elena can ride with again," Hakeem said confidently.

If he was disturbed by the fate of the men who had been trying to kill his wife, he hid it well.

* * *

It was their last day of travelling

They were now moving very slowly along a converging route, but they still expected to reach Karsh before midday. Elena was now able to ride and had joined Hakeem and Jacinta just behind Garran and a large group of younger men who were in the vanguard.

"Jacinta, are you growing in front of my eyes?" Elena asked, studying her daughter closely.

Jacinta shrugged, and why do parents love to embarrass their children? she wondered.

Hakeem studied Jacinta in her Gypsy dresses and boots. Elena was right. It was over a year now. He had really meant to measure her.

"You will make me poor feeding you and clothing you, daughter of mine," Hakeem chuckled, his eyes twinkling with pride.

And if you two keep this up, I will leave you and join my cousin up front!

Just then, one of the men in front topped a rise and yelled out, "Wādī Karsh!"

Jacinta urged her horse forward to join her cousin. Elena followed after her, eager to catch her first glimpse of the city where Hakeem spent his childhood. As Hakeem's horse caught up, Elena flashed him a smile of appreciation.

"Hakeem, it's so beautiful but I have never seen so much date palm!"

It was if they were on a high plateau, looking down over the broad meandering wādī below.

Wherever it was irrigated was covered with a wide flood of date palm, startlingly rich and green against the barren dirty-yellow that surrounded it.

In the far distance, to the north, her keen eyes could just make out the great walls of Karsh itself.

The Gypsy caravan started to descend to the floor of the oasis. Halfway down the slope was a ridge, and they passed a walled mud village made of rammed earth and mud brick.

Hakeem had told Elena and Jacinta about them, they were called aghrem (or ksor). The house walls were shared between houses, making it look like a maze inside. Hakeem warned his 'women' they were, indeed, mazes and not to wander in without a guide. He said they are very good in both the heat and cold of the desert. The people, many of their animals, and all their stores were deep inside the houses. The outer wall, more than the height of two men, provided defence.

"These people haven't faced serious danger lately, have they?" Elena asked.

"It came very close, but no," Hakeem agreed as their horses followed the winding road down to the village.

Jacinta looked, to puzzle over what her mother could see. She hadn't thought about it at first glance but now she saw there was not even a watchtower and there were no true fortifications. The defensive wall was simply the outer wall of the houses, reinforced with mud and straw but not very high. Perhaps the villagers would flee to Karsh if anything serious came this way.

From where they were, they could make out goats, camels, cows and sheep down on the oasis floor and hear the proud crowing of roosters.

The date harvest had finished, but several villagers were taking advantage of the passing crowds, selling their dates and handicraft and refreshments. One old woman selling dates saw that Elena was interested and offered some to taste.

"Go on," Hakeem encouraged. "You don't have to buy."

The purplish dates were delicious!

"They are very sweet, a thousand blessings from your God upon you," Elena called out in passable Aramaic, much to the woman's delight. Hakeem passed a few coppers and got a small basket woven from palm leaves and filled with dates for all to share.

"Nothings is wasted here," Elena said when she saw the basket.

Hakeem laughed. "We make rope, crates, roofs, posts, doors, fences, and furniture … almost anything, from date palm. We don't have a lot of wood so we can't waste whatever we have.

"We call dates 'the fruit of the light'," he explained. "The palm can stand drought, but they love most of all having hot sun on their heads and water at their feet.

"Our summer sun would bake the soil, so we use date palm or fruit trees to filter the light and plant vegetables underneath. That is why the oasis seems to be all date palm from a distance.

"This is no place for an elf in full summer, I'm afraid."

Elena nodded. She had found it hot enough even this late in the season.

A hen called excitedly for her small fuzzy chickens to see what she had scratched from under some leaves. Elena smiled as she watched the mother.

"The date palm is a very ancient tree," she said. Elves have great knowledge of living things, especially trees.

"A good palm is greatly prized. We don't plant from seeds. We only plant suckers sprouting from a proven tree, " Hakeem said, also watching the hen. "Ownership of date palms or animals is the most important measure of wealth amongst my people."

As they came closer to the Karsh, Jacinta was able to appreciate the great city and its huge walls that dominated all around, rising 12 meters (40 feet) high. They were made of mud brick and rammed earth.

The tops of the great walls were crenulated, to give cover for archers on its battlements, and were well endowed with towers, arrow holes, catapults and fortified gates at the entrances.

Just upstream from Karsh, Jacinta could see where the wādī ran steeply downhill, and the great dam just above that Hakeem had told her about. It had been built hundreds of years ago, resulting in an artificial lake above Karsh. The dam controlled flooding and provided water pressure, allowing the people of Karsh to make their city so beautiful. There were four huge aqueducts carrying water to the city and its surrounding lands.

Throughout the city (Hakeem had told them) there were fountains, ponds, ornamental trees and gardens. Esplanades were shaded and cooled in summer by artificial streams burbling on either side. Important citizens had running water inside their homes for bathing, drinking, washing, gardens, decoration and cooling in summer. Jacinta felt she had been inside already from all Hakeem had told her.

Karsh, Hakeem had said, was famous for its public bathhouses. So that's why Hakeem loved to bathe so much! Some of these were extremely luxurious with tiles, statues, fountains, luxurious fittings, gardens and even gilt on their taps. If the desert nights were cold, fires were stoked under the floors and under the water channels to give warmth and hot running water.

If it was hot, they were cooled by running water and shade. For a fee, one could literally have almost any service, including hot or warm steamy baths, massages, oil treatments, food, wine, music, a private room, a party for friends or a companion for the night.

They were still an hour's journey from the city when the pace slowed to a tedious crawl, sometimes hardly moving at all.

Hakeem glanced idly up at the beautiful and strong city of his childhood, half bored with the delay. Then he paused, suddenly alert, and frowning. He looked backwards and forwards, quickly scanning the city, the walls, the dam and the crowds. The smile dropped from his face, to be replaced by a puzzled look and finally a look of dawning horror.

His eyes returned, frantic now, looking back and forward to the walls, the aqueducts and the milling crowds. He was muttering under his breath. He shook his head in opened-mouthed disbelief.

He had to be wrong!

"Please say you don't see what I see, Elena. Please tell me my eyes deceive me," he whispered in pain.

"Oh, lover of my heart it is only now that you see?" said Elena, distressed. "How is the storage?"

'With all this?" Hakeem said, gesturing helplessly to the crowds thronging the gates. "Not enough. I didn't know there could be so many people in the world, but even if we only get a fifth of this, it is far too many people. Perhaps we can build more storage."

"Look further," Elena replied gloomily. "Even if you pulled the city down and built it again, it's all wrong."

Hakeem nodded, grimly.

"What's the matter?" Jacinta asked, puzzled. "It's all so beautiful."

"Yes it is!" Hakeem replied bleakly.

He kicked his horse and pushed his way rudely ahead, careless of others in his way.

"What's wrong with Hakeem?" Jacinta asked. She had never seen Hakeem moody before, and he had been so excited to go home.

"Give him a little time, Jacinta," Elena said. "It's a bit of a shock that's all. Yes Karsh is very beautiful and I'm sure we'll love it. That's the problem. If we face anything serious, we will lose Karsh. Hakeem thought of Karsh as a great desert stronghold. That, it most definitely is not. Its walls are little more than decoration."

Jacinta looked back to the city that looked so beautiful, proud and strong, and shuddered.

"Mother, tell me." she whispered in mounting fear.

"Poor Hakeem! He has seen real forts and castles," Elena said in angst. "He will have to explain this to his war council and it will be agony for all who love this place. Karsh has long been protected by the desert and the Shantawi. It has become a victim of its own success.

"Those mud and earth walls are designed to protect against tribesmen with ladders and scaling hooks. Modern siege equipment will flatten them within hours, but even if you could rebuild the walls and properly fortify the approaches to the city, see the lake above the city? What do you think will happen to the city if an enemy destroys the dam, especially if they build something to catch the water around the city?

"The city will be flooded and will lose all of its clean water, and what will happen to mud walls with water lapping several feet up? There must be a thousand ways to breech these defences, but even that is not necessary. There are too many people. Besieged cities always have a flood of refugees first. Karsh can build great wells and have enough water but even with great stores of food Karsh won't be able to feed them all."

Elena paused, "If a great army makes it through the desert and the horsemen can't stop them, Karsh is best to not even bother closing its gates. Offer no resistance, and let them take what they want. Hope they will be merciful, which is likely. To defend it against a stronger force will only bring death to its defenders and all its citizens."

Jacinta looked back at the great city, this time, shivering with fear. For a moment, it seemed to blur and the sun darken. She had a premonition. Disaster was coming to this strong-looking city of her father. Karsh was doomed.

It felt frightening to even ride inside knowing this. The happy crowd surrounding them already seemed to be fading, like ghosts of a happy time that had already passed.

"Don't worry," Elena smiled, reading the expression on her face. "Don't forget your father!"

Jacinta let out her breath with a whoosh. She smiled shakily. "We ask a lot of him, don't we?"

A little while later, Hakeem joined them again and he had regained much of his good humour.

He smiled confidently at the two women he loved. "We are a strong race, used to hardship. As it has always been and always will be, anyone who attacks us is in for a nasty surprise, a very nasty surprise!" He smiled grimly.

He would enjoy being the one doing the surprising.

 

Chapter 26: A Memorable Entrance

Shamir, the Rav Turai (Corporal) of the south gate, had just had the worst two weeks of his life, and there was no sign of letup. He had hardly slept and hadn't seen his family in ten days.

The election of a Shantawi Ra'al (Warlord) only occurred every two or three decades and it was a greater occasion than anything else in Karsh, even the election of a Grand Abbot (which in truth was a rather sombre affair).

Some who didn't understand the Shantawi were baffled by the reverence they have for their warlord. Once he is elected, his title is hardly ever used. It confers unquestioned and absolute powers that many a monarch would envy, yet he rarely exercises any of them.

Despite this, the idea of a warlord is tied to the soul of the Shantawi as a warrior people. It is a sacred promise that, should there be any threat to their people, the Shantawi will rise as one man. They will be led by the very best leaders, they will fight with cunning and bravery, and they will give their lives, every one of them, if that is what is needed.

Even Shamir, born in the city and not amongst the desert tribes was not immune to the mystique of the Warlord. Normally, Shamir would expect a great throng of the Shantawi, well-wishers, the simply curious and those looking for profit: entertainers, sellers, pickpockets and others, all descending on the city.

This was different. Everyone knew this election was a formality. The new Shantawi warlord would be a Shayvist paladin, a religious knight. Most did not understand what a paladin was, but they knew there had only ever been very few in the history of the Shantawi and the Warlord had never been a paladin before.

To add to the excitement, everyone had heard of Hakeem, but no one seemed to know what he looked like. Anyone who might have known was not telling. He was said to be travelling to the city in secret and was hunted by enemies.

To make it worse for Shamir, some of his men had been taken away to increase the patrols along the roads and of course, Lazars, his sergeant, refused to help him.

He would have loved to see some of the shows, let alone the main ceremony, but it looked like he would see nothing but the south gate.

He had been forced to close the gate for the second time this morning, so that the jam of people beyond the entrance could clear. Everyone was hot and dusty and grumpy, and now there was some tribesman demanding to see him.

It was probably a Badawī (Bedouin) mercenary officer. They always thought they were better than mere guardsmen. Well, he would have to wait his turn, just like everyone else.

* * *

The city was full to overcapacity. The guard at the gate was shouting till he was hoarse.

"It doesn't matter who you are or who you think you are. You can't bring your horses or packs into the city. You have to camp outside and well back from the walls. Then you can proceed on foot. Unless you want trouble and to miss the ceremony, follow the direction of the city guards."

Everyone else grumbled loudly, yet turned aside ... everyone, except for Hakeem, that is.

The four travellers Hakeem, Elena, Jacinta and Djordji, the Gypsy King, were waiting under the watchful eye of the guards. It had all started earlier that day, with an argument between Hakeem and his two female companions.

"Look, Hakeem, you are deliberately travelling without any identification. You yourself have said that you lived exclusively in the monastery. No one in the town guard will recognise you." Elena tried.

"Please, father, it's not important." Jacinta added soothingly. "We've come all this way in disguise. Let's not look for trouble now; all we have to do is leave our possessions with our Gypsy friends and then we can walk in and go to the monastery. There you will find someone that recognises you. We are almost there; all we have to do is keep this up a little further."

"It's ridiculous!" Hakeem shouted angrily. Then he lowered his voice, "it's ridiculous."

Hakeem would rather fight in battle than take part in this public ceremony. He felt irritable and tense, and besides he was so proud of his new wife and she had gone through so much already. She was an Elvish royal and deserved to have a proper entrance to the city of his childhood and yet he found that no one recognised him. Well, we'll see about that!

"Look," he said, "All this fuss is about me, it's a humiliation to have to sneak into the city like a criminal. I will talk to the head guard of the gate and we will ride in, in style."

"Hakeem," said Elena. "I would never have expected you to care about such things. If you want, I can tell you all you will ever need to know about humiliation, but if it's important to you, we'll do it."

Hakeem smiled at her fondly. "It's not just for me, my love. You deserve an entrance that you will never forget."

And so, against the girls' better judgement, Hakeem pushed on till he was faced by the harried looking corporal in charge of the gate.

There were so many other people claiming to be Hakeem's good friend, or a relative. There were even a number of unlikely characters claiming to be Hakeem himself. When Shamir met yet another tribesman who claimed to be Hakeem, he confided that he, Shamir, was secretly the Queen of a well-known mythical land.

At that Elena and Jacinta desperately tried to pull Hakeem away, but he was determined.

It was when Shamir asked him the name of his companions that Hakeem realised all was lost. Elena hissed urgently to Hakeem that he would get them locked up.

He introduced Jacinta. Her name was already known in Karsh to be the name of Hakeem's daughter. Shamir eyed the young girl in travel-stained Gypsy clothes and mismatched boots. Hakeem then introduced the colourfully dressed King of the Gypsies.

Shamir was sure there was no such thing as a 'King of Gypsies'.

Then Hakeem finally and bravely pressed on, and, trying not to show any hesitation as he announced Elena, the Princess and heir to the fabulously wealthy Eastern Elves.

Elena took off her Gypsy scarf to show her pixie ears and smiled and nodded hopefully. Hakeem smiled at her fondly, thinking just how beautiful his lady looked and beautiful she was, even in her old Gypsy dress, with her silky hair dyed black and her skin stained.

Unfortunately, the one thing she looked nothing like was an elf princess. At best she could be quarter elf, and most definitely not a princess.

The corporal looked at the big tribesman in concern. Perhaps too much of the desert sun? It could be very dangerous in the heat.

Or was he a madman perhaps?

Hakeem flinched. He was ready for a scathing, angry comment or even an order for arrest. Then the corporal looked at him another time, this time with joyous recognition.

Hakeem was puzzled. He assumed he must have been recognized somehow.

Shamir began shouting excitedly to his men, his friends, workers at nearby stalls and all those stuck in the queue to come and meet some important visitors.

He was thrilled! It was nothing like Hakeem expected. What was happening?

He looked at Djordji who seemed quietly amused. Jacinta and Elena could hardly contain their laughter.

"Hakeem doesn't understand!" Elena managed to choke out, causing her and Jacinta to almost collapse again, bent over through laughing, hugging each other for support.

Hakeem was puzzled, what could be wrong? The corporal was neither angry nor scathing. He seemed delighted. Hakeem looked blankly at the crowd rapidly gathering not comprehending what Elena meant.

The corporal faced the gathering crowd importantly and spoke in a loud clear loud voice. He seemed to be good at public announcements.

"Citizens of Karsh! Friends and guests who have travelled to join us on this joyous occasion, I bring to you today a great honour! It is my greatest pleasure to inform you that some important dignitaries have generously agreed to pause on their journey into the city, to give the poor people at the south gate a moment of their busy time."

There was great applause. Shamir is very good! Elena thought.

"I think he's missed his calling," Jacinta whispered, echoing her mother's thought. "At least we're not being arrested. Has Hakeem caught on yet? He'll have a fit when he does."

Hakeem was totally perplexed, perhaps Shamir thought they were here to give some encouragement to the workers, not what he meant to convey, but he didn't mind. That explains the misunderstanding.

Shamir dramatically paused and his gaze slowly swept his audience. Many started to laugh in anticipation. Like a master of ceremony, he introduced them one at a time: Djordji the King of the Gypsies, who bowed and flashed a toothy smile at the crowd. Jacinta and Elena curtsied and smiled prettily.

At the mention of Jacinta, the famous companion of Hakeem, the audience broke out in cheers and some started to bash their applause on empty wooden crates and hollow palm logs. When he mentioned Elena, Princess of the Eastern Elves the audience erupted in tumult! There was shouting and cheers with lots of 'welcome my Lady!'

Shamir waited for the audience to subside, holding his hand up meaningfully. He tried a couple of times to proceed, but was overcome by his own laughter. "And last, but by no means least we have the greatest warrior of our times. Our great leader … our one and only, apart of course from a fair number of imitations ... our own, Hakeem!"

Hakeem smiled and waved uncertainly at the audience, but still looked bewildered. Did the corporal believe him, and if so, what was happening? If he didn't believe him, what under the sun, did he think they were? He seemed to be very friendly towards them. He didn't seem to be poking fun at them. What was happening?

He looked back on his three colourful 'Gypsy' companions. Jacinta and Elena could see the moment when realisation struck.

Oh, no! He was totally appalled! This was not happening! Not this … Anything but this!

He looked at Shamir in horror! Shamir merely smiled back at Hakeem and nodded encouragingly. It can't be this, Hakeem thought helplessly.

Shamir, since he was small, loved circuses and visiting entertainers and here was the greatest celebration of his life. His lazy sergeant, Lazar, was enjoying himself but Shamir was stuck at the gate. He wouldn't see any of the shows.

Now he couldn't believe his luck! A group of three Gypsy entertainers, one with some elf blood had teamed up with some great wandering fool, and was prepared to put on a show for him and his friends. He could have wept with gratitude. He was determined to help them as much as he could.

"But you don't understand," Hakeem tried frantically. "I am Hakeem. I am the one who is expected!"

"But of course, my Lord!" Shamir replied in mock astonishment and gravity. The audience was really enjoying this farce. The clown pretending to be Hakeem was very good!

Shamir started. "But, Lord Hakeem, where is your famous horse? I hear he is huge, has red eyes and eats flesh!"

Hakeem had an image of Nadeer gently accepting an apple from the children and taking them for rides. "My horse, Nadeer had to go on ahead of me," Hakeem explained.

"Of, course!" Shamir held his hand up, trying to control his own laughter. "Of course! It's not at all unusual for horse and rider to travel separately these days. I hear he's such a smart horse, he probably leads his own war band."

The din from the audience was incredible. Even Hakeem had to laugh. This corporal was a born showman.

"My lord! You are a big man surely! But I heard the real Hakeem is eight feet tall!"

"Well, I wish he wouldn't eat like the real Hakeem!" Jacinta yelled loudly. "He eats all our profits!"

Hakeem glared at her; Jacinta wasn't helping at all!

Jacinta merely smiled cheerfully back at her father. She swept her skirt back and forwards gaily, smiling for the crowd. She was a Gypsy and loved an audience.

It went on and on. Many people had fallen to the ground, barely able to move from too much laughing. Each and every one of them were wiping tears of laughter from their eyes.

Elena didn't look like an elf princess! … Oh, I see she is in disguise, running from her enemies …. so, what is she disguised as? A Gypsy pretending to be an elf princess. That should confuse her enemies, it's certainly got us confused!

Oh, Hakeem didn't travel with his war-band because he has these two girls to protect him. (Elena and Jacinta tried to look like fierce warriors in their multi layered Gypsy dresses).

And your Jacinta is far too pretty, the real one was said to look like a troll. Was it true that she defended a caravanserai from a band of raiders, single-handed?

What was the one about Hakeem wrestling a lion with his bare hands? Yes, tell us that one! Jacinta and Elena begged.

And why did Hakeem seem so ill informed? He said he didn't recognise so many who gave their oaths they knew him well.

Jacinta and Elena went round collecting the coppers and even one or two silvers from the grateful audience. Shamir was encouraging his friends to be generous.

Would they all stop that? Hakeem thought. This was embarrassing, but he found he couldn't be angry. Shamir was a delightful fellow and easily the greatest entertainer any of them had met.

"Well, thank you my friend," Hakeem finished, after the final bow and the audience was reluctantly dispersing. "I don't seem to have convinced you, but I can't remember when I laughed so much. Clearly I was due for another lesson in humility."

Jacinta and Elena were drifting back up after farewelling everyone. They were counting their coins. Hakeem frowned at them. He really wished they would stop doing that.

"Well," Elena said, still laughing. "You almost had us thrown into jail, Hakeem, but you promised us an entrance into the city that we would never forget. I'll really never forget this one. I don't know when I've had so much fun! I'll be sorry now I have to get back to being a princess."

Shamir looked a little puzzled, why were they still talking like this? Didn't they know they could stop acting, now?

"Am I really supposed to look like a troll?" enquired Jacinta of no one in particular. "Thank you, Shamir, you were great! I must declare my face is sore from so much laughing."

"No," replied Shamir. "Thank you! You have really made my day. I'm on duty all the time and was missing out on all the excitement inside."

"That's not fair!" Jacinta said sympathetically. "Don't you have a single day off?"

Shamir shook his head sadly.

Elena turned to her husband. "Well, you and your family will be our guests!" she announced grandly. Hakeem nodded enthusiastically.

"Are you going to put on any more shows?" Shamir asked.

"Just one," Elena said taking her husband's hand, "and just Hakeem, but it will be a very big one."

"Well, I'll be sorry to miss it, but good luck."

"Ha! Am I still not believed?" Hakeem announced tragically. "I said you would see it! … Or have you forgotten who I am?"

"Well, we'll see, I guess. Stranger things have happened, I suppose," Shamir laughed. "Just make sure you keep away from the true Hakeem! I hear he's a real mean bastard!

"Oh, and Hakeem?"

Hakeem turned.

"I'm sorry. You still can't take your horse that way."

 

Chapter 27: The New Warlord

Shamir was frightened.

This was serious! The main ceremony was about to start and he was summoned to what was still called the Royal Pavilion. Lazar said it was something about insulting some important guests.

He was escorted by two tall monks, was he under arrest? They were very polite but perhaps monks were polite to prisoners.

He wasn't being taken straight to prison. Perhaps they would denounce him first. He went pale with fright and his heart was hammering. He thought desperately about what was to become of his wife and children if he were in jail.

He was being led towards the area reserved for the Grand Abbot's party. The Grand Abbot was the most important man in the city, bar no one. Had he given offence to one of his guests? He desperately searched his memory but couldn't think of anything. Who could he have offended badly? Who was so important?

"Daddy!" He heard the cry of his small daughter, and his wife shushing her. He couldn't locate them in the sea of faces. He heard a girl's voice cry out clearly, "that's him there!"

The guards were leading him higher, to some important seats. Then he saw Jacinta, waving from some of the best seats, with his second youngest, Chozai on her lap.

Chozai was more interested in smearing honey cake everywhere than on saying hello to his father and Jacinta was expertly wiping his face and hands with a damp cloth.

Elena was holding their youngest Tabatha (Aramaic for 'gazelle') and chatting pleasantly with his wife Miriam who had their oldest boy on her lap.

Elena had the most exquisite soft loose gown on, and it was an elf dress!

"Over here!" Jacinta encouraged. "Can we get you something to eat or drink?"

The two monks bowed politely, and left him to make his own way to his seat. He passed Djordji and a woman who had to be his daughter, who smiled and waved.

It was luxurious seating, with ample large cushions over the wide marble steps. There would have been room to recline, if it weren't for the children.

"Hello Shamir, I'm glad you made it," said Elena, with a smile, as he sat down.

"How?" asked Shamir almost dizzy with relief. He was feeling disorientated to find his entertainer friends amongst the official party. "How did you arrange for me to be relieved, and get these seats?"

"It was quite easy. Hakeem was expected to have more guests so he had seats reserved. No one had to be moved to make room," Elena explained.

"I thought I was in trouble." Shamir said. "Where is Hakeem?"

"Well, really," Jacinta countered. "The ceremony is about to start, silly, where would you expect him to be? Up here with us, do you think? And why think yourself in trouble, we said we would invite you and your family, didn't we?"

"Shamir was wonderful to us when we came to the gate, we'll never forget it," Elena chuckled as she explained it to Miriam.

Many of the nearby guests who had heard the tale laughed loudly, it was priceless! Shamir went crimson. He felt himself shrinking into the ground. He felt dizzy from shame.

"Oh!" was all he could manage.

"We loved it, honestly. We've all been through much worse but that was completely memorable! We love you for it," Elena reassured him, giving Tabatha a hug.

Shamir smiled in shaky relief. He still couldn't believe who Elena really was.

"Why don't you introduce me to this Great Lady and her adopted daughter?" Miriam asked her husband, "They only told me they are Jacinta and Elena".

"Yes," said Elena. "Why don't you introduce us? This may help." Elena very carefully moved her loose gown slightly, to reveal a small patch of inhumanly white skin under her arm, to the left of her breast. Under the dye she was pale! Then she showed him the roots of her lovely blond hair growing back, ever so slowly. "I haven’t been able to remove the dye; I'll try again later."

"Yes introduce us," Jacinta encouraged with a smile, "You should know who we are by now. I'm glad you think I don't look like a troll!"

Shamir stared in shock at the pair, as they smiled innocently back at him. He thought of Hakeem, that he made so much fun of, and groaned in misery.

He had trouble believing he wasn't facing execution, but he seemed to have made some new friends instead.

Then he realised what it meant. He was the first citizen of Karsh who could say he met the great Hakeem, the elf Princess Elena, and their famous daughter Jacinta.

And here he was, with his family, sitting as their honoured guests in the best seats available to watch the event of a lifetime, while Lazar was doing his work for him. A great thrill passed through him.

More than time enough to worry about any possible beheading tomorrow. Hakeem wasn't anything like the legends growing up around him. He didn't seem the type to take offence over a small mistake, or so Shamir hoped.

* * *

They had tested Hakeem over three days. No longer could there be doubt, Hakeem was a paladin. Jacinta was questioned over several hours. The order and the Tribal Sheiks officially endorsed her as a student paladin.

Now the people were waiting in the Great Theatre of Karsh.

It was built in the Greek fashion, a huge semi-circle of stone seats, built high into the side of a hill. At the bottom of the theatre was the circular performing-space called the orchḗstra (from the word meaning 'to dance') for the chorus to interact with the main players on the stage.

Behind and just above this was the stage itself, with a small front entrance to the theatre at the side of it.

The stage was backed by a stone wall where painted cloth could be hung to indicate scenes. It had an alcove where actors could change and any murders could be conducted out of sight of the audience.

It was decorated by intricate columns, statues and carvings. As in all Greek theatres, by some wonder, the acoustics were perfect, so even those high up in the top seats could hear perfectly.

Despite its great size, it was not nearly enough. Those who could get no entrance congregated in thousands on the steep hill behind or clustered outside the entrance, as close as they were allowed.

Seats had been arranged on the stage and when Shamir had arrived, a young lady climbed the stairs to the stage to recite a beautiful poem to Apollōn which she accompanied by the exquisitely clear notes she plucked on a kithara.

After she left there was a pause, while the Grand Abbot (Abbā Maluch), Abbā Omar, the current Vichira (Mayor) of Karsh and other dignitaries filed onto the stage.

Maluch stood and in a loud voice reminded the audience why they were all here. Then he led them in prayer.

There was a hush of anticipation.

A horn sounded and the Sheikhs of the Ten Tribes trotted their horses one by one into the orchḗstra. They were dressed in immaculate white flowing robes and on their heads they wore their tribal kefiyyāt (plural for head scarves), held by dyed and woven rope circlets. On their necks and at their waists were badges and chains indicating their clan and status. The audience stood applauding as they turned to sit motionless, in a wide half-circle facing the stage, waiting.

Then there was silence. The audience, the whole city, held its breath.

Hakeem sitting astride Nadeer walked his horse till he could be seen, waiting just outside the entrance. Nadeer pranced slightly, and then stopped. Hakeem was also in white but had a thick purple waistband. He wore his sword and had the four small gold sickles of Shayvist mastery, three in fighting, and one for knowledge.

A loud gong rang out, from within the city.

The Sheikhs called as one, "Who goes there?"

Hakeem lent back in his saddle and answered in a mighty voice, "It is I, who would lead you! Do you accept my right?"

In answer the Sheikhs joined in the 'zaghareet' (ululation from the back of throat) the audience surged to their feet and joined in. The noise was deafening. All the visitors in the audience felt a great thrill pass through them, caught up in pride and emotion. These were the proud fighting people of the desert and the people of Karsh.

Hakeem drew his sword and nudged Nadeer forward to the centre of the orchḗstra. He waited for silence and then Nadeer, with his head turned to the side, gracefully pranced. The great horse turned slowly as Hakeem solemnly saluted the audience, and each of the Sheikhs in turn.

The hush continued as Nadeer continued to turn slowly till the man and the horse faced the Grand Abbot. Then Hakeem sheathed his sword. Nadeer pranced for an instant as if with impatience, and was still.

A child was heard to cry, "That's him, daddy!"

The Grand Abbot's voice boomed out his challenge, "Who dares come here, to ask for my blessing?"

Hakeem answered in a strong voice, "It is I, the one who has been sent. Do you recognise me and say I'm worthy?"

The Grand Abbot and Omar chanted in unison. "You have been sent to lead us. May Apollōn bless you and all who ride with you."

Omar held up a heavy gold chain and a badge.

Hakeem lightly jumped off Nadeer, and ran up the steps to the stage and then waited head bowed on the last step. Omar read loudly Samit's proclamation, accepting his replacement.

Don't disappear, old friend, Hakeem thought, just don't disappear.

Father Maluch stepped forward and motioned Hakeem to join him. Then Maluch took a great breath and addressed the audience.

"Great Leaders! Shantawi and people of Karsh! Today we appoint our new warlord. Today also, all Shayvists recognise a new paladin has come amongst us. The first for centuries."

From the stadium, from outside and from up on the slope there was a riot of cheering and celebration.

Then Hakeem bowed and Maluch and Omar fixed the badge of the paladin on his belt and the gold chain of the warlord over his head. Over the cheering, the great gong of the city sounded ten more times.

There were so many letters wishing Hakeem well that only the main ones were read: from King Helios of Aiol, King Leandros of Troia, and leaders of the other main Greek cities, and finally from a certain Elena, princess of the Eastern Elves.

"That's you!" the same little girl in the audience shouted excitedly to the lady who was holding her. "Yes, it is!" Hakeem called loudly back, which caused a ripple of laughter.

Then Hakeem was hugged and congratulated by the various leaders and dignitaries. He trotted down and lightly sprung back on Nadeer and then turned to face the audience and held up his hand, waiting for silence.

"Friends, great people of Karsh, Sheikhs and people of the ten tribes. Today, by God's grace I have been given a great honour, to serve you the Shantawi and people of Karsh as the Ra'al of the tribes and the ʾEmīr of our mercenaries. I am also called by our God to serve as his paladin."

He paused and his voice became grim.

"We have not had a paladin for hundreds of years, not since the early days of our faith." Hakeem paused and scanned the audience slowly, so it seemed he talked to all.

"Each paladin is set a great task. My task will involve you as well, my people, because you are the chosen of Apollōn.

"Our task will be the greatest challenge that has been ever faced in the history of Karsh, in the history of our faith and in the history of the Shantawi." The audience was hushed for a moment and a then a murmur started and began growing.

Hakeem held up his hand and waited for quiet.

"Not today, but a great war is coming to us!"

He took a deep breath and raised his voice to a shout.

"It is then, my people, we will be asked to praise our God; not in his temples with our prayers, but in the defence of all we hold sacred with the strength of our arms, our horses, and our bows!"

Any other audience would be in turmoil but there was only a buzz, most simply waited silently to hear what was said.

"But," Hakeem continued, "we will not be without friends. Many in Anatolē will join with us. From the Greek cities of Anatolē to the West to Sardeis, I will be concluding further alliances where I may.

"I have already concluded a treaty with the Romani. Long have we been on good terms with our wandering friends. Now we will aid them where they suffer persecution and they will aid us in our trouble." Djordji and his family stood and took a bow, to great applause.

"I also announce an alliance between the Shantawi and the Eastern Elves."

There was loud murmuring at this. This was a great alliance! The elves and the Shantawi were on good terms, but the elves never made alliances with humans. But if there was an alliance that would involve the Shantawi, all Anatolē and the elves, what were they going to face?

Hakeem had to raise his hand for silence.

"Princess Elena of the Eastern Eves and I have travelled here in disguise, a disguise she still bears. Many have been trying to kill her to stop us combining our strengths. As we speak, those men are being taught what it means to act against the Shantawi and the people of Karsh." There was loud laughter and mighty cheering at this.

"Princess Elena has done me the honour of becoming my wife."

Elena stood and the audience erupted in wild shouting and cheering. The elf princess, the future Queen of the Elves, marrying a Shantawi. They were the fighting desert people; a coming war didn't frighten them if they had such great friends.

"This will start now!" Hakeem shouted. "I am your Ra'al. I will invoke my powers this very moment!" People were talking in fear and excitement; women were gathering their children closer to them. Hakeem had to wait, his hand raised.

"I call on you now to build your strength!

"In the time we have, let us grow our crops and multiply our herds. Look to your neighbours! By my sacred charge I do not ask this of you. I demand you, all of you, to put all arguments aside. Let not one widow or one orphan or anyone in poverty go hungry or suffer. Let not the old, the crippled the blind or the frail go in want. Find them reasonable tasks within their strength, as is our law.

"The time will come when individual strength will not be enough. We must stand together or we will fall. We will need even that little strength that the weak can give us. In what is to come, we will endure because ever we stand as one.

"From this time forward, I name each and every one of you, from the greatest to the least, my warriors. In this time of preparation those who mill grain, sew cloth, tend fields will be warriors, as much as any who practice with the bow and horse.

"Look now to your families; they are our wealth, greater than any gold. The mothers of our children are our strength greater than the strongest walls."

Hakeem took a deep breath and his voice echoed over the theatre and the hills.

"No matter how dark things may seem, maintain your faith. No matter how it seems, I will not fail you. When the time comes we will, as always, prove to be a strong and valiant people. In the end, we will prevail."

A mighty cheer went up that went on and on. People were standing and stomping and clapping. Such a speech may quell another audience, but these were the fighting people of the desert.

Hakeem sat his horse, his eyes glistening with pride and love. "Thank you, my people."

He turned Nadeer with quiet dignity and led the Sheikhs from the theatre.

For the moment, it was enough.

Fortunately, what followed were prayers and hymns to soothe and calm the audience after such a grim speech.

 

Chapter 28: An Elf in a Hurry

It was only a fortnight after the inauguration when Elena heard that her Uncle Hector was in the Palace.

She couldn't wait. She ran, squealing with excitement, all the way to where he waited.

Jacinta and Hakeem were hard put to keep up.

Hector only had time to shout out a greeting before she threw herself into his arms, heedless of any around. He hugged the young elf princess, who had dissolved in tears.

"Hector, at last we meet!" Hectors arms were full of elf princess, so Hakeem strode around and simply clasped Hector's right hand between two large hands.

Hector was overwhelmed and his heart leapt. Usually known for his eloquence, all he was able to say at first was "Oh Elena!" over and over, kissing her hair.

She had dyed it black!

They had been told she was dead.

Then news came of a vast hunt for her. It was thought she was trying to reach Karsh in disguise. He had come here hoping for news. So many were hunting her that he had no real hope that she could reach here alive.

No elves had travelled into these exotic lands before, and he was unsure of his welcome, but when he and his escort arrived at the city gate, travellers quickly made way for them. People were shouting excitedly, "A group of elves has come!"

There was a riot of citizens trying to catch a glimpse of them and shout out well wishes. The soldiers sprang to attention and bowed before them, greeting them with something like awe.

When he mentioned the name 'Hector', the effect was dramatic.

The streets were cleared by soldiers shouting his name and the weary elves were hastened, somewhat bemused to the Palace. When he was told that the princess was in the Qaṣba itself, Hector could hardly hope it really was Elena.

He left his main escort of twelve men to be looked after by the Mayor of Karsh no less, and ran himself with only two of his bodyguards and an escort from the city guard trying to keep up.

And now he had found her!

"Great Mother!" he managed eventually, "It's so good to see you. We thought you dead." The old warrior had tears in his eyes.

"Oh, Hector! You don't know what it's like to see you after all this time. You must meet my family!" said Elena excitedly.

She turned so she had him clutched tightly arm in arm, refusing to let go. She felt like laughing, hugging him and jumping up and down on the spot all at once. All of a sudden, despite everything, she realised how much she was missing home and Seléne. With a shock, she couldn't even find the anger toward her father, though she didn't know how she felt about him yet.

Family? Hector thought. He had heard Elena was under the great warlord's protection. Was this large man one of his senior men or was he the Warlord himself? And that Gypsy girl? Elena had said "family," but he was given no chance to ask anything.

"Hector, oh I'm so happy! Please meet my husband, Hakeem, and my daughter, Jacinta. We adopted her. Well, Hakeem has adopted her twice! Oh there is so much to tell." Elena was talking breathlessly.

Much indeed, thought Hector. Elena believed that she had married and adopted a daughter, but it was without approval of her father or the Elvish Court, and they were both humans. This was a great shock now, with their kingdom on the brink of civil war.

But the Warlord himself! She could certainly do worse. Amongst humans there couldn't be many who were greater, and think of the alliance! But many elves would not stand for it.

He didn't need this complication just now, but his heart melted for the sad elven princess that he loved so much. He had never seen her so happy, and so in love. And who is this pretty Gypsy girl? And since when had Elena become so physically strong?

Just then, Hector made his decision. He was with Elena, whom he loved no matter what. He would support her against all, even to his death if needed. Even, if need be, against his Lord and brother. Somehow it seemed long overdue. Elena and Seléne would always hold his heart.

He pushed her back a little and fell to one knee. Elena shouted, "Hector, don't you dare! Stop that, this instant!"

But he ignored it with a smile, drew his sword and presented it hilt forward. "My Lady," his voice rang out clearly. "You will become my Queen. I, this day, swear allegiance to you before all others. I will hold none before you, I will serve and protect you until my death. Let all here, and the Great Earth Mother, bear witness that I am so bound!"

His personal bodyguards, two elven warriors, hurried up with a clatter of armour and fell to their knees before repeating the same oath. Elena had tears in her eyes. He couldn't be doing this!

The meaning was clear, he was swearing allegiance to her above his allegiance to his half-brother. For her to accept this would be treason. She had no idea why Hector would do such a thing, but she didn't ask. This was her beloved uncle, the greatest elvish general for centuries, perhaps the greatest of all time.

It might be treason, but without hesitation her voice rang out. "And I, Elena, princess of the elves, accept your pledge and those of your men here. I will give love for love, loyalty for loyalty, honour for honour. May the Great Mother and all here see that I am so bound!"

Oh, Uncle, what have you done? I hope you know what you are doing.

Hakeem and Jacinta as well did not miss the significance of what had transpired. Hector had sworn a sovereign oath to Elena, but she was only the heir, not yet a Queen.

Did this mean war, elf against elf? Hakeem had only just become the Warlord. Must he now lead the tribesmen against the invulnerable fortress of the elves? Last time that happened the tribesmen had been virtually wiped out. Well, perhaps he would become the most famous, and possibly the shortest-reigning warlord.

One part of Hakeem's mind, as always, was racing through possible strategies; the other part was in shock. He wanted Hector's explanation, preferably immediately.

As the host, he spoke formally.

"So, uncle of Elena and hence my uncle, if you permit, please feel welcome in my house. Anything I have is yours. Can we withdraw to talk and have some food and drink? Please do not be offended that our daughter Jacinta will be included. The reasons will be made clear. There is much to discuss and I see you have much to tell us.

"You must refresh yourself first, as you have been travelling hard. Do you need rest?"

Hector bowed formally. "My great Lord of the Desert Tribes, I am honoured to meet you. I apologise for any rudeness. You see I thought Elena dead, and that had broken my heart. Now I am overjoyed.

"As you guessed, there is much to talk about and some news that burdens my heart greatly. I will rest and refresh myself later if someone could attend to my men. We are all very hungry, as we came in great haste.

"As to you calling me either uncle or Hector, I would be proud to have this from one such as you." Hector laughed a little self-consciously.

Such fair speech from an elf to a human! So, this is Elena's beloved Hector. Hakeem had studied all his campaigns and longed to discuss them with him as soon as there was a chance.

He smiled. He knew that Elena's uncle and he would become fast friends. But rebellion? What had he and Elena done?

Hector's heart was heavy. The last thing he expected to be able to do was laugh. But first he chuckled and then he laughed out loud and it did his heart good.

Hector dreaded starting, and insisted that Elena tell her story first. He marvelled at what she had gone through since he had last seen her. She was not the same unhappy elf closeted in the court. She had lived in a world of experience: humiliation, terror, anguish.

She had found love, and more, where she had least expected it. She would be a queen that very few could match in understanding. She would be, as the common elves had already started to call her, "the people's princess".

She was excitedly describing some of her adventures, with the enthusiastic help of Jacinta. For the benefit of her weary guest. She focused on what was amusing. She didn't detail the death of Djorn, she skirted around many facts, and even made some dangerous parts sound amusing. One of her favourites seemed to be the leaky barn, when it started to rain heavily in the cold of the night.

Imagine, she said, the others snoring snugly in dry comfort crowded in with the horses. And her, drenched to the skin, trying to push a reluctant cow out to give up its dry spot for her.

This was not the Elena he had seen before, and with a twinge, he was reminded of Seléne and her amusing tales. It was as if all the hurt, all the cares of many years, had fallen away. She was blooming with confidence and love, yet her eyes held a wisdom born of all that pain.

And Jacinta! He was thoroughly charmed by this bright and gorgeous young girl. It was obvious the two were as thick as thieves, more like fast friends than mother and daughter.

Hakeem was more reserved. He took their teasing in good humour, and looked at the pair with such pride and love that it warmed Hector's heart. He knew that this was indeed Elena's family, and he would not let anything on heaven or earth rob her of this.

Now, he was hearing something astounding, and it shook him to his very soul. "Did you not think of this when you agreed to adopt her?"

"No! And that's the thing! Jacinta was already the daughter of my heart, and she was the daughter of the man I love." Elena gave a look of pure love to the pair who were busy eating. "We didn't realise, till we had agreed. When we found out, we almost fainted … I did faint!"

"I only found out about this filthy barbarian after I had agreed to marry him." She gave Hakeem a well-aimed kick under the table; he almost dropped his chicken leg. Hakeem gave Hector a self-conscious smile as he massaged his ankle.

"Oh, that he was to be the Warlord?" Hector replied. "How on earth could that be a secret?"

"How, indeed!" said Elena with some of her residual outrage. Hakeem carefully moved his feet away from hers. "But it gets worse."

After she had finished, Hector sat with his mouth literally dropped open. How was this possible? Hector had always taken it as a given truth that the other two who had been prophesied would be elves.

What a shock! If he didn't know Elena better … Hector knew about paladins and knew Hakeem would not be lying. It had to be true.

The three of Prophecy were to be sent by the Great Goddess. And it matched what the Shantawi believed about their paladins being sent by their God, including this delightful young girl!

"People, even your allies, will think this is contrived," he cautioned. "They will say you have picked up a barbarian and a Gypsy stray from the streets." Hector was aghast at what he had just said, but it was out before he could stop it. He was too tired and too worn.

But Hakeem just looked amused, and the girls just laughed gleefully at the prospect.

"Of course, they will! That's the very point, don't you see?" Elena exclaimed. She didn't seem to know how much trouble this could cause. Wait, Hector thought, never underestimate Elena. There were some who had, and they had come to regret it. She couldn't really be relishing the possible reaction, could she?

But she was.

Of course, he reminded himself, still trying to come to terms with it all. If she was right … no, if she was the one foretold, she would be right in this matter. Whatever happened was destined to occur in the way it did. Well, some stuffy elves would certainly have their noses rubbed in their prejudices!

It was then that Elena asked him his news. The smile dropped from his face and he was silent a moment, dreading telling the news.

Elena went pale and waited in anguish, all laughter forgotten. "It's not ... not my father? He's not dead is he?" She sounded like a lost and frightened child.

Jacinta moved over and climbed into Elena's lap. She pressed her head against Elena's chest and put her arms around her mother's neck. Hakeem took Elena's hand and clutched it with both hands, bracing himself and her as they looked at Hector and waited.

Hector proceeded in a rush to get the main facts out.

"My Lady, I don't know. I left Elgard many weeks ago, we were told Cyron was gravely ill and dying, but no one is given access to him. It's a strange illness that seems to go on and on. Xanthe has assumed control as Regent and Nikan has returned from exile.

"They are replacing the palace guard with those loyal to them. I think Cyron's a prisoner but they will keep him alive until they have a firm grip on power."

Elena looked pale and tears were in her eyes, "Seléne, tell me is she alright!"

"Elena, I don't know. You know she will oppose them, and Nikan would love to get his hands on his baby sister. I hope Xanthe will be able to protect her.

"But Lady, Nikan may have found out you are alive. If he has, it will force his hand. Cyron and Seléne will be in great danger."

"What help can I expect?" Elena asked, her face grim.

"My Lady, against Nikan the whole people will rise up as one, but he holds the palace and our King and Seléne hostage.

"If people think you fight against your father, or if Nikan spreads a lie that you are dead, it would be terrible. We will have elf against elf, father against son, brother against brother. There will be such destruction that I doubt the kingdom will ever recover."

Elena was frightened. She looked to Hakeem in shock, but Hakeem had a smile that conveyed no humour. "If you permit, Uncle, I may have some ideas," he said very softly.

Hakeem looked intensely at his wife's uncle.

"Hector, they don't fully suspect you are working against them yet. Send a message back that the Elena here is an imposter. It's some strange plot of the new warlord. That will be easy enough.

"That will make Nikan feel safe, but off balance, turning his eyes away from his enemies amongst the elves. He will be looking towards Karsh and wondering.

"I doubt Xanthe, from all I have heard, is clever enough to be behind what's happening. She is being controlled by Nikan.

"Now here is what I would suggest …"

* * *

Hector looked at Hakeem in astonishment.

He had only just heard the problem and he already had the beginnings of a plan. There was danger, of course. They would have to move very quickly, of course, but it was brilliant! Not only was he a legendary fighter but he thought strategy as easily as he breathes.

"So we really need to get to Cyron and Seléne and protect them somehow. Only then are we free to act," Hector finished, Hakeem nodded.

Elena was pouring some of the best wine.

She had honoured Hector by serving him herself.

"But we need Omar!" she said looking at Hakeem. "He left a few days ago."

Hakeem looked puzzled. "He's an old man, though still strong. He's a monk and prefers peace. Besides, it would be hard to get him anywhere he can be of use."

"But if my father is still alive and sick, or if Seléne is injured, we may need Omar to heal them. We can't do that without him."

"No," Jacinta coughed, trying unsuccessfully to keep a straight face. "How could we heal them without Omar?" She gave Hakeem an innocent smile.

Elena flashed a look of intense suspicion at her husband. Then her face registered shock and her mouth opened in an 'O'. Hakeem was stuttering incoherently, and going crimson under his tan.

Elena stalked closer to Hakeem, jug in hand while she thought it through.

She had thought it was Hakeem that helped her at first, but everyone seemed to think it was Omar. She assumed what she remembered was a lovely fever dream.

And his leg! Hakeem's leg healed so remarkably.

And Garran! It was all coming back to her. Hakeem was in the tent behind her. Omar was outside. She couldn't believe she managed to save him.

Of course, she couldn't believe it …. because it wasn't her!

She had taken the arrow out and sewn the outside of the wound, but she couldn't reach the source of the bleeding. It had stopped and his breathing eased. It seemed impossible. Why didn't she see this at the time?

Hakeem was desperately looking around for a means of escape, but Elena had taken up a position firmly behind his chair. Could he fit between his chair and the table? He twisted round to peer anxiously at her.

She fixed him with a piercing gaze, her eyes flashing. "You lying dog!"

"Elena! Please, I never lied to you," Hakeem begged, frantically trying to squeeze into the narrow space.

"Elena!" She echoed in a nasty tone. "Elena! I never lied to you!

"Of course, you don't lie. You pig! You just don't tell the truth."

* * *

Assassins!

The two guards looked up in alarm.

They heard the sound of shouting from the dining room and the unmistakable clash of metal. Then there was a shriek of terror from Hakeem. The stronghold was under attack! What under heaven could make their leader sound so frightened?

They had been playing cards with the elf companions of Hector. All four sprang up, overturning the small table and the cards in their haste. They drew their weapons and burst into the room together, ready for whatever lay beyond.

Ready for anything.

Anything except perhaps one thing.

There was the greatest warrior of his time, the fearsome Warlord. He was still sitting at the table, trying to cower away from his furious wife who was standing over him menacingly, ready to strike. His clothes were soaked in red wine, it was dripping from the black ringlets of his hair and beard, and there was a growing pool at his feet

Elena had upended a fruit bowl over him for good measure, and there was a large bunch of grapes on his head that he was peering through.

There was fruit all around where he sat.

She had also tried to hit him with the wine jug but he had used his goblet to defend himself. Just as well she didn't connect, as the expensive items were dinted beyond repair. No one could have guessed, looking at Elena, that she was so strong, but that is the way of elves, they say!

Elena still held the useless battered wine jug in her hands and was studying the wine dripping off her husband with immense satisfaction. It looked like she briefly considered throwing the jug at him, but then placed it on the table carefully. It flopped on its side, unable to stand upright.

The four warriors struggled to maintain neutral faces. They hopelessly tried to restrain their amusement. Perhaps he had done something to upset her!

This was such a shock. It was said the Warlord had married a lady gentle and sweet to all who met her. She was enduringly patient and thoughtful even with servants, there was none of the spoiled petty demands, or careless arrogance expected of an elf or a royal. She had captured the hearts of the fierce people her husband commanded.

But now, it appeared that in the Great Princess of the Elves, their mighty leader had found a worthy and really formidable wife. They didn't know, just then, which of the two was to be most feared by their enemies. The elf princess was currently putting in a very good showing!

Hector and Jacinta could barely stand for laughing.

"I asked you not to do that, Elena." Hakeem managed in an injured tone. "That wine was expensive."

"Oh, Hakeem, I am so sorry!" said Elena, regarding him in mock contrition. Then she grabbed her own goblet. "Oh dear, I missed some!" She slowly and very carefully poured the remainder over his head.

"You have a strange way of showing your gratitude to me, I must say," Hakeem said, as he tried to bend forward to keep the wine out of his eyes. Seeing his men, he tried to draw himself up. The steady stream of wine from his wife's goblet, a soggy squelching noise and wine going everywhere spoiled any attempt at dignity.

"That was the last of it and you know how much I liked it," he said in a plaintive voice.

"What a pity," Elena smiled at him, with considerable satisfaction. "Here! I'm sure you can still save some!"

She passed him a small cloth. "And don't you dare call Nura to clean this up. … Coming, Jacinta?"

As the two swept out giggling, Hakeem called, "Elena?"

Elena paused at the door, "Yes, dear?" She asked sweetly.

"It just occurred to me I might take our three guests, and show them those baths nearby, will that be alright?" Hakeem enquired.

"Of course, dear, do be back for dinner."

"Yes dear ... I somehow thought it might be best to ask you. I'm sure you understand."

"Of course, you can, dear. And, Hakeem?"

"Yes dear?"

"Don't get the impression I'm not grateful, I certainly am. It's just I would really prefer that you tell me these things, that's all." She finished with a sweet smile at him.

"Well," said Hakeem, dabbing at his face and neck with the totally inadequate cloth. "I'll try to remember that in future."

"I can always remind you, if you like," Elena offered, back to being the sweet and helpful wife.

"No I don't really think you will need to do that. I'm beginning to understand how you feel about such things."

"Well, I'm glad we have that sorted out," she said with satisfaction. "Before we leave, is there anything else you want to tell me?"

"Is there?" Hakeem looked fearfully at Jacinta.

Jacinta's face broke out in an expression of pure mischief. "One thing, perhaps," she said, considering.

"And what's that?" Hakeem and Elena demanded in unison. Hakeem was looking panicked again.

"Well you know that meditation we do in the morning?"

"Yes…" said Elena glaring at Hakeem, who had got up and was starting to back away, looking not only thoroughly frightened but miserable, dripping and sticky.

No, Hakeem had not told her that he could use it to meet and communicate with his God!

"And you didn't think to show it to me!" Elena rounded on him.

"No, er … really. It's not like, really it isn't! It's really not really at all that … really. You really could, really, if I just, really." Hakeem tried.

"And you didn't! I could talk to a God, and you didn't think to mention it? Is it forbidden because I am not a Shayvist?"

Hakeem and Jacinta spoke together "Communicate, not talk."

Hakeem added, "Of course not, anyone is allowed. It's really easy." Then he realised he was digging himself in deeper. "I'll show you as soon as we have time. Jacinta, do not discuss this further!" he finished, with a note of command in his voice.

"Elena! Darling! Can you forgive me? You know I love you more than anything. You know there is a very good reason for this. It's just that I can't think what it is, at the moment."

"Forgive you?" Elena considered, trying to resist a smile "Let me see. Ask me after dinner. Jacinta and I will be removing those tiles I don't like. They are stuck. I suppose you don't mind me using that lovely new sword of yours, do you? I think it will be perfect for that. Coming, Jacinta?"

Hakeem was busy mouthing, "Traitor! I'll get you for this!" to his Gypsy daughter, who was spreading her hands, in a helpless shrug and mouthing back "What could I do? I just couldn't resist." She was laughing uncontrollably, along with Hector and the four impromptu witnesses.

Hakeem prayed Elena was joking about his sword.

As the men were cleaning up and finding a robe and towels for Hakeem, Hector turned to Hakeem. "Did she really mean it, Jacinta I mean, about you meeting and talking to your God."

"Communicate! And don't you start. I'm still badly bruised from the last elf attack! Just ask and I'll show you."

Hector laughed, "I must say it's not something that usually occurs to me to ask my host. So, there's no problem with me serving the Earth Mother?"

Then it hit Hakeem. Damn that Jacinta! That vixen! She knew!

"It's what you elves do all the time with the Great Earth Mother!"

"Oh you mean that … we do that all the time."

Meanwhile Hakeem was shaking his head from side to side and smiling in admiration. "Yes, she tricked me and she knew she did. She knew!"

He paused for a minute and then laughed. Many people seemed to be in awe of his abilities, but Jacinta seemed to be able to outwit him whenever she wished. He'd have to be much quicker off the mark to keep up with his twelve-year-old daughter, it was lucky he could find anything at all to teach her!

No, he chuckled, he was lucky to have her as a daughter. He would have to get his revenge, somehow of course. It was an awful shame, wasn't it, that Jacinta was so ticklish?

"Has your niece always had this problem with anger?" he asked.

Hector looked at him, a bit puzzled. "Elena?... Oh, I don't think she was particularly angry." He looked thoughtful and then became very serious. "Believe me; you never, ever want to see her really angry."

Hakeem looked chastened and frightened. "That bad, huh?"

"Really, my friend, you have no idea. You just have no idea!"

Hector shook his head in wonderment at the recollection.

 

Chapter 29: Seléne, her Torturer, and a Dying King

Seléne felt dead.

Deep down inside she had died.

She lay in listless misery in her cell.

Her sister was dead. Her father was dead or dying. Those of her friends who did not have powerful protectors and had not yet fled would be dead by now.

She didn't know where Hector was, but he couldn't raise an army to storm Elgard for her. Besides, a civil war was the last thing she wanted.

Day merged with night in the dank place. She prayed that she could die, and yet, her body wouldn't die. She breathed in and out. She ate her meagre portion and drank the foul water that they gave her.

Nikan wanted something from her and he would keep her alive until he got it. Her half-brother wished to break her. It gave him the greatest pleasure to have girls helpless and in his power.

He still had her restrained and naked at times and came to touch her in his loathsome way. She no longer resisted, just lay limply, not reacting, but this gave him no pleasure.

He wanted her to struggle, be frightened, or appalled, or at least pretending to be willing out of desperation. Would it really mean better treatment if she just gave him what he wanted? But that was impossible for her. Why she resisted when there was no hope, she couldn't say.

In just two weeks she would be sixteen. There would be no ball in her honour. She would wear no fine dress, and no handsome young men would be waiting to dance with her.

Her mother had warned her to keep away from Nikan, and for a while was able to protect her. But Nikan wouldn't keep away from her. More than three weeks ago, they came and dragged her, filled with terror, to the dungeon. She hadn't had a bath and was given no blanket since.

Nikan had told her he had hired a torturer. He taunted her with what would be done to her. She should be terrified, but was too sunk into despair to react, and now the loathsome creature had come.

He was huge! A great brute of a human, no elf would do such horrible work.

She heard him murmuring to the two guards, asking questions. Then he came into her cell, knelt down and turned her face towards him. He studied her with pitiless eyes.

"I am called Dumaya, are you sick?" he said in surprisingly good Elvish.

"Answer! I said, are you sick?" He shouted; his voice was cold.

She was like a specimen to him!

She listlessly shook her head. He placed her back down in a strangely gentle way, which only made her shiver uncontrollably. Then he leapt up in a rage! He kicked the food bowl hard against the wall. It shattered.

The fat guard, Henron, the one that hurt her, started to protest. In a flash, Dumaya had a knife at his throat. How could one so big move so fast? He backed Henron up against the wall and pressed the knife till Heron was on his toes, with the tip of the knife resting over the pulsation in his neck. Dumaya twisted the knife gently back and forwards with a smile that didn't touch his eyes.

"I don't think Nikan will miss one jail guard. What do you think?" he asked softly, as if curious to find the answer. "Or do you think I would mind killing you?"

He caressed Heron's neck with the knife point gently, as if lovingly. Dumaya's eyes were crinkled in pleasure. Then he raised his voice angrily.

"Understand what I say! This Lady is in my care now, and you will do exactly as I tell you!"

The older, fat man was pale and shaking. Within seconds Dumaya had reduced the fat bully to terror.

"You!" He addressed the younger guard, Corin.

Corin had tried to be nicer to her, but could do nothing; he had a wife and mother to protect.

"You are now in charge of her care. This one!" he gestured to the thoroughly cowed Henron, "will answer to you." He stared hard at both. "Am I understood? Good! Corin, bring your wife and mother to attend to the prisoner.

"Do you think I care what other tasks they may need to perform? Any who objects, arrest them and bring them to me. I will enjoy … the discussion.

"Well, do you have a more important prisoner? No, I thought not.

"I want clean clothes, I want blankets, I want her bathed by your women and no man is to look! I want good food. I want clean water! I want comfortable bedding. There will be no rats, no lice! Do you want to make her sick?" he yelled.

He was clearly tempted to tip over her latrine bucket, which hadn't been emptied for days.

"You!" He pointed in disgust to Henron. "Clean this filth up!

"And I want the keys. Do you have to chain a fifteen-year-old girl, for the sake of the Mother?

"What's she going to do, do you think? Attack me with her bare hands perhaps? Oh! I may be scratched! Oh!" He finished in a falsetto voice and then laughed at his own joke.

As he started to leave, he turned back. "Oh .... and, Henron." He paused, smiling.

"I look forward to returning and not finding things to my satisfaction. Do you wish to find yourself in that cell over there, with me giving you my personal attention?" He turned and finally swept out.

Suddenly, Seléne felt more alive and awake than she did in weeks! That man was a total monster! She was badly frightened of him and soon she would face this appalling man.

He wanted her healthy for one reason only. She dreaded what would come next but for the moment, she couldn't help enjoying how he had reduced the big fat bully in just seconds and it sounded like one part of her treatment would be better at least … a bath, clean clothes and proper food! The thought of a bath and clean clothes sounded like heaven.

* * *

Nikan didn't recognise his two guards, though one of the veterans looked vaguely familiar. There had been a massive influx of new troops in the last few days, recruited from his Duchy and elsewhere. Jason, the recruiting sergeant was doing wonders. This would allow them to take over the palace completely.

His next meeting was going to be with his tiresome mother, Xanthe. He kept her waiting deliberately, before nodding for her to be shown in.

"I want to see Seléne!" Xanthe demanded angrily as she stalked in.

"Dear mother! Surely you know I had to remove Seléne. She was spreading sedition! She threatened both of us! But don't worry. She is still my sister, I am looking after her, really I am. You will see."

Xanthe almost snarled at him, "You promised you wouldn't touch her. If I helped you, you wouldn't hurt Seléne. Take me to see her, now!"

Nikan gave his mother a cold smile, "Or what, mother? You will expose us perhaps?

"I didn't think so ...

"Soon you will have the power you lost because of that bitch, Elena. Or would you rather hang?"

He softened his voice, trying to sound more reasonable.

"Mother, dearest, trust me. I am looking after Seléne. She is no longer in the palace, so I can't take you to her. I can't say where, as she might become a hostage to a rebellion.

"Now, leave me, I have many things to do."

Xanthe looked at him with horrified suspicion but there was nothing she could do. She left without another word.

Xanthe was becoming a problem.

He smiled. Time to deal with mother soon. Soon, he thought, very soon.

The next meeting was doubly sweet. Belamus had been one of Hector's most trusted men. He was sent from a nearby fortress by Hector, but Belamus was no fool. On arrival he immediately offered his services to Nikan and he was already proving invaluable.

"Great Lord," Belamus bowed. "I have wonderful news. The recruiting is going well. With the peace, we have been able to get some veterans, not the green recruits of before.

"I've stocked the palace with some of the newer men, so you and they can learn who is who, and to keep them away from troops loyal to Cyron. I have put your most trusted troops on the outside walls of the city, to watch the others. I think we are now free to act as we wish within the palace.

"And the warlord? That was pathetic. The man has married a woman who looks no more than quarter elf, and he claims her to be Elena. That may impress some unwashed sheep herders, but the man is laughable!"

Nikan smiled broadly. "Belamus, you will be richly rewarded for your loyalty. Carry on."

* * *

Nikan was greatly pleased that the huge hooded figure of the torturer exuded such menace.

"So, they tell me you're the best."

"Without any doubt, Great lord," the big man murmured.

"Have you had a chance to meet the prisoner?" It was a rhetorical question. In reply the torturer simply smiled and nodded.

"I want her to be grateful for anything," Nikan demanded. "Any small thing I do for her. I want her to be ready to do anything, and I mean absolutely anything, to please me. Do you understand? I don't want her to be too damaged, but I want you to break her spirit."

The torturer laughed, "My Lord, this is a very simple manner. That bumbling fool you had in charge deserves death! I will give her to you broken and compliant very soon, and not in the dirty woeful condition I found her. I will hardly have to touch her. The terror will be enough."

Nikan felt a chill, which only made him feel aroused.

"Please," he said, with a smile of pleasure. "Tell me what you plan for my dear sister."

"Well," the torturer started with relish. "Some believe that torture is a physical process, it is not. It is a psychic process. It involves a battle of wits between the torturer and the prisoner. These, I always win. Sometimes my weapon is terror, sometimes humiliation, sometimes despair … and pain yes, but pain is the most crude of all.

"I am faced with a fifteen-year-old girl.

"At present she resists. Not because she has hope, but because she has none. I plan to give her full hope, and then to yank it away at the last possible moment. And then I will have her. After that, it will be a simple matter.

"With your permission Lord, I have heard of your problem with the King and your Mother. Belamus tells me the time is right. If you agree, I will pretend I am here to rescue her. I will take her to the chamber in which her father lies poisoned. Xanthe can meet us there.

"Of course, there will be no escape.

"You and Belamus and a few trusted guards will be in the next room, so you can see her face when she realises she is trapped again. She will be just in time to see her father breathe his last, and her mother arrested.

"At that point of despair, after she had been most alive with hope, she will be yours simply for a promise to protect her mother. I promise, you will have all you want and Seléne in your bed, perhaps by this evening!"

Nikan laughed, and this evil man laughed with him. So simple. After weeks of frustration. He had considered executing this man later, but now he realised just how useful he could be.

"I suppose you are not too fond of Henron, are you?" Dumaya said with an evil chuckle. "I might have need of him, it will make it more convincing, and besides, I dislike the man."

"You wear a sword." Nikan observed.

"My lord, ever my best work is as an executioner. I consider myself as a bit of a scientist. I would like to see if a royal elf neck is any different to any other."

Nikan smiled. The man was so depraved that he had to be admired.

"Well, keep it handy, then. Perhaps I can supply a use for it very soon."

Dumaya gave a laugh. "I would like that, Lord! I would like that very much. Now, Lord, I understand Belamus was organising a big celebration in honour of you tonight. I guarantee great cause to celebrate."

The torturer bowed and smiled again. It pleased Nikan to dismiss the frightful man with a gesture, to go back and attend to Seléne. How much more terrifying it must be to be in his power.

For a time, Nikan found it hard to concentrate. His sister had insulted and frustrated him. He looked forward to her helpless, frightened, and reluctantly doing all his bidding. His mind kept turning to pleasurable thoughts about his little sister. The delicious full feeling in his groin grew.

It wouldn't be long now.

The big man was in a good mood as he marched back to the dungeon. He hummed slightly. What would be happening to Seléne and her family would be delightful. What a happy little reunion it would be! It would be in the latter part of the feast, to give time for Nikan to be in a good position and anticipating all the fun.

And now, to work on Seléne.

As he came in, he was pleased with what had been done. She was out of the cell and in a larger room for those who had agreed to 'talk'. This would do splendidly! They had washed her, her dark hair was combed and trimmed and tied in a simple pony tail. She was dressed in a simple but neat dress. She was a pretty girl, very attractive, no doubt about it.

"I am pleased," he nodded to the women waiting. "You will make yourselves available to me and the prisoner. You are relieved of all other duties."

He gestured to the old woman. "Bring her one of her cloaks, the night is cold. She won't need her cell for the moment. If anyone protests, let me know immediately. I doubt anyone will. Nikan has told his staff to be wary of me." He smiled and chuckled to himself. "… very wary."

He was carrying a huge heavy leather sack by a strap over his shoulder. It was obviously very heavy: stout leather reinforced with wide metal bands. It clanked when he lowered it carefully into a corner. "No one touch this!" he instructed.

Seléne found she was looking at the sack in terrified fascination. She imagined what this torturer might carry in a sack. With difficulty she averted her gaze.

The food was brought in, and set up on a small table.

"Haven't you got a knife for her? How will she cut her meat … with a spoon?" Dumaya demanded irritably to no one in particular.

He very carefully cleaned one of his knives with water. Holding the blade by some clean cloth he presented it handle first to Seléne with a welcoming smile. Seléne just shuddered, not willing to touch it. It was an exquisitely decorated elf blade, razor sharp.

"My young lady," he smiled coldly at her. "You do well to fear me, but I assure you the blade has touched nothing unwholesome. I have no interest in you becoming sick. And…"

He smiled as she snatched it. "I know what you are thinking, now. That knife is very beautiful, it is long and very sharp! But you see it will do you no good against me. You are welcome to try to use it on me anytime you like. I will try very hard not to hurt you if you do.

"For the moment, all we will do is talk. I want us to get acquainted. Are you comfortable?"

Despite his attempt at conversation, he was getting very little back from Seléne.

She was watching him as a small bird watches a snake. Nonetheless, she started to eat quickly, in case the food was removed in some trick to taunt her.

He picked up a stool and placed it on the other side of the desk, to watch her eat. She flinched, but he didn't attack her, so she kept eating. She was very hungry, and it tasted possibly the best meal of her life.

He sat enjoying watching her eat for a moment, then leaned forward and reached his hand towards her. Quick as a flash, she stabbed down with the knife. He was lightning fast and caught her hand in a painful grip as he removed the knife. She flinched back, but all he did was to laugh and offer her the knife again. Her heart was thundering, and her breath was coming rapidly.

"You're truly fast," he said.

He seemed pleased with her speed. Seléne found this even more frightening.

While he had only treated her well so far, everything about him emanated evil purpose: his smile, his apparent kindnesses. The most horrifying thing about him was his supreme confidence. She wouldn't be able to resist him long. Already she was almost petrified with fear to be in his company, and he had done nothing.

"Leave us!" Dumaya commanded of Corin's wife. When she hesitated, Dumaya laughed to her face. "Well, well woman, do you hope to protect her?" He smiled coldly, looking at her speculatively up and down.

"And who do you think will protect you? Leave now!"

The woman fled.

As soon as they were gone, he leaned forward urgently. Seléne flinched back as far as she could in the chair. "Seléne, listen to me." He whispered. "Keep very quiet! I have come to rescue you and it will happen tonight. You must trust me; I give you my solemn promise, I won't let anyone hurt you."

Seléne's heart leaped with joy. Now this! He seemed a different person now. Could she trust this terrifying stranger?

"Now," he continued. "I can't tell you much. It's too dangerous. I will tell you some surprising things. You mustn't make a sound when I do." Seléne jumped a little as he came closer and then she tried to relax.

* * *

Nikan saw the entertainers and caterers bustling back and forward. It was going to be a great night; he could hardly wait! The large audience hall was not too far from the royal apartments, where Cyron was being 'helped' by Nikan's physicians. He could watch the feast and its entertainments, and then it would be only have a short distance to enjoy the best part of the evening!

* * *

"Relax!" Seléne thought. "He said, relax!" He had given her a sip of wine but Seléne couldn't sleep! Elena alive! Her father alive! And she would be smuggled in to meet with her family tonight.

* * *

Nikan was really enjoying himself! This was a special night and he was allowing himself to relax for the first time in a long while. He didn't want to drink too much, but a few glasses wouldn't hurt. These Gypsies really knew how to put on a great show. Belamus must have hired a whole troop of them. It was juggling, singing, dancing, music, comedy … it went on and on.

* * *

It was Henron's turn to sleep in the cells that night. He wasn't happy when Dumaya returned to the dungeon. He looked at the torturer suspiciously. "You seem to be a little too nice to that girl for my liking. I think you want something very special from her. Will you share her with me? If you don't, I will tell our master about you!" He chuckled wickedly.

Dumaya smiled back, "I doubt you will." He moved closer. "Did you like hurting Seléne, Herron? Because I must tell you something that you will find interesting about her."

He held his hands out, empty, in a gesture of peace. He moved forward, giving Heron a conspiratorial smile. When he was close, he struck with lightning speed.

He hit Herron hard on the jaw. The man fell, as if hit by an axe. He was likely dead, but Dumaya bent over him and took the time to strangle him and make sure, smiling and humming to himself as he did. He dragged the body into one of the cells and carefully closed the door.

"Some people, it seems, can't take a hint. Too late now, I suppose!" Dumaya thought, with pretended regret and then he moved to where Seléne was kept imprisoned.

The big man knocked on Seléne's door and whispered urgently to her before he opened it. She was ready and brimming with hope and excitement. He passed her the dagger again, and took her hand. He lugged the sack with a strap over his shoulder very carefully, using his hand to steady it as he lifted it. It was obviously tremendously heavy and clunked a little. What was that for?

Henron was missing. Seléne was too horrified to ask what had happened to him. The big stranger had taken off his cloak, and was dressed like one of the guards, except he was obviously human … it would have to do.

"Now remember, Seléne, the guards are new and won't really know who you are," Dumaya explained carefully. "You go in front, like the noble you are, and I'm your escort following behind. Act confident, don't look frightened or guilty, it's as simple as that. Walk at a normal pace, not too fast, not too slow, can you remember that? Try to look happy.

"Get ready to move fast, if anything goes wrong!"

She was so frightened she could hardly remember what he had said. Dumaya took her arm, and smiled, not unkindly and looked searchingly into her face. "You have been through a lot. Not much longer, I promise! In the meantime, do not forget, you are a Royal Princess!"

That somehow did it.

For a big man, carrying a heavy load, he moved like a cat. At every step she was terrified. She expected a shout of discovery at any time. He said try to look relaxed! She tried valiantly to imagine it was a normal walk. She didn't feel she was acting naturally at all. Couldn't everyone around hear the loud hammering of her heart? But none of the servants and guards seemed to notice her, as they bustled back and forward on errands of their own.

The most dangerous part was near the entrance to the great hall, she realised. If someone came out from the feast and recognised her, all was lost. There seemed to be entertainers coming and going everywhere, even guards but no one she knew. Some glanced at her but did not seem to be curious about her.

Her big companion ignored them. He carefully placed the sack, with difficulty, on the ground and casually walked away, not even glancing back. Men came from behind and picked it up.

Dumaya and Seléne hurried down the corridor and passed through a large room into another room, beyond which, he said, the King lay. There were no servants, but one of the physicians was there. He looked up in surprise. "You are early. I haven't given him the last dose yet. I can't get him awake enough to swallow."

Seléne rounded on Dumaya with a look of intense suspicion. He smiled and shrugged, self-consciously. "I'll see what I can do," he offered as he walked up to the physician.

Seléne felt like fainting with fright, Dumaya was about to kill her father.

As he got close to the man, he whipped forward, grabbing the man roughly and rammed him hard against the stone wall, his skull making a crunching noise.

He held him up by his throat his hand pressed against the jaw while he snatched for his knife and jerked it hard across the man's neck, almost in one movement. It was all so quick, Seléne barely had time to gasp.

He held the body against the wall firmly keeping the jaw closed till it finally stopped twitching, and then he carefully, almost lovingly lowered it to the ground, smiling in satisfaction.

Then he wiped his hands on the man's clothes. There was a patch of blood on his tunic which he brushed at ineffectually.

Seléne backed away from him in terror. The knife was pointed at him, her eyes were wide, her knuckles white from clutching it so hard.

"You're a monster! You're a murderer!" she hissed trying to keep her voice down.

"Seléne," Dumaya said patiently. "That was one of the men poisoning your father. He was about to kill him. Did you expect me to kiss him? He would have raised the alarm and now he can't.

"Just like Henron, I had to kill him ... and so I did.

"What else do you want me to do? Or do you like these people? What I did was quick and almost painless. Can you imagine what your father or your uncle Hector would do to them? Now, you must give me a few moments alone with your father."

Seléne poked her nose in the door. "He hardly breathes! He is so pale! He is dying!" She looked at her father in anguish.

"Seléne, we don't have much time," Dumaya said, gently pushing her out. "I must say something to your father, and I must say it now. I won't hurt him, I promise you. Just wait outside for a few moments. I will be as quick as I can."

Seléne felt a moment of anguish. Would this man kill her father, but if he wanted to kill her or her father, she could hardly stop him. She only prayed he was telling her the truth. Was it all a trick?

She waited outside her father's room with her fists clenched in an agony of indecision. She didn't think she could stand the anguish of having her hopes raised only to see them dashed now. Well, he wasn't acting like she was his prisoner. On the other hand, maybe he didn't need to.

It seemed ages till he called her in. "I know something of poison. Your father will live, but we came not a moment too soon." He looked very grim. "He's conscious now, but very weak. He has been poisoned for a long time."

She saw his face as he turned to her. While he spoke calmly, his face failed to conceal his fury. Seléne felt a thrill of fear. Perhaps her father had refused this man whatever it was he wanted.

Then she turned to her father. "Father!"

She wanted to shriek and clutch at him and just sob and sob, but there was no time.

"Seléne, trust him!" her father said in a faint voice.

Seléne was puzzled. "Do you know him?"

"Just met…" was all Cyron could say, before he fell deeply asleep.

"How are we going to get him out of here?" Seléne whispered urgently to Dumaya, who had joined her now.

Dumaya smiled. "Leaving was never part of the plan. Now, keep quiet. We will hide until your mother gets here, after which it's time to meet the rest of your family."

She looked at him quizzically, but he just looked smug and motioned her to silence.

* * *

Nikan was excited at the thought of surprising Seléne, Cyron and Xanthe all together. Then they would find out there was nothing they could do against him. Cyron would die of his poison, dear Mother would be imprisoned, and he would finally have Seléne desperate to please him in any way he wished.

He felt the thrill pass through him again and again while he waited with Belamus and four specially selected guards. There was the pleasant fullness in his groin and his body was tingling in anticipation.

He and the others had come the long way around. Xanthe had entered, they had given her a few minutes, and now they moved into the room before the King's chamber. In the next room, they could hear excited voices. At a nod to Belamus, they all burst in together.

"My lord!" said his torturer. "As you can see, it is all ready for you."

Xanthe looked shocked. She looked exhausted and had been crying, Seléne was in her arms. They were standing, in front of the King who was unconscious.

"Traitor!" Seléne screamed at Dumaya in impotent rage.

"Oh," said Dumaya with a broad smile and a small bow. "That all depends on your point of view. Seléne, aren't you pleased to see your brother? He is paying me a lot of money to get you into his bed."

Xanthe was hot with rage "Serpent! I should have had you drowned at birth! You are no son of mine, you hateful toad."

"Oh dear! Oh dear," said Dumaya, affecting the manner of a prissy teacher. "That's not very nice at all, is it? But, what's this I see? The King still breathes. Must I do everything myself?"

He looked at Nikan who smiled and nodded. Dumaya turned to advance on the unconscious king. Seléne and Xanthe threw themselves in his path. Dumaya was forced to step back and blood started to drip from his arm.

"That's much better, Seléne. You really are fast." Seléne was shaking in terror and rage, as she kept the bloodied knife pointing at him. "But my dear lady Xanthe, wasn't it your idea to poison Cyron?"

Seléne spun to look at her mother in horror.

"Not anymore!" shouted Xanthe angrily. "I deserve death for what I have already done, but I will give my life to stop you. You and that toad you serve."

"Such a touching family scene," Dumaya said. "One is missing, but of course dear Elena is dead." He sighed pretentiously, and shook his head. "You organised that didn't you, Nikan?"

Nikan smiled and nodded. "I was pleased to take care of that bitch."

"Indeed, but who is this, then?" Dumaya said as he turned to look to the door behind.

"Hello brother," Elena said as she walked in behind Dumaya, as if on cue. She was disguised as a Gypsy.

Her voice rang out clearly "Did you really think you could kill me so easily, brother? Did you forget who I am? Did you forget about the Prophecy?"

"Arrest her!" Nikan screamed to his guards. They drew their swords, but they surrounded Nikan instead, disarming him.

In the confusion Seléne lunged at Dumaya again.

"Will you stop doing that Seléne? I already told you that you're fast."

He had succeeded in disarming her, but only after she had managed to stab him a second time. He sidled up and gave Elena a lingering kiss, trying not to get his blood on her. Then he looked across and nodded to Nikan, who was looking stunned.

"Meli, I'll give Seléne her knife back if you make her promise to stop cutting pieces off me."

Seléne threw herself into Elena's arms. She was trembling and sobbing uncontrollably.

"Oh, Seléne! Dear Seléne! Did you really think I wouldn't come for you?" Elena asked gently, her own tears starting. "Didn't you know I would come for you, no matter what or wherever you were? I love you, Seléne I would do anything for you." She was softly stroking and kissing her sister's hair as she hugged her.

"And as for you, Hakeem!" said Elena over her sister's shoulder. "It serves you right, you great big monster! You scared her half to death."

Hakeem looked abashed.

Then it hit Nikan. "You!" he pointed an accusatory finger at Hakeem, as the men were binding his arms. "You are the Warlord! Elena was in disguise all this time!"

"Yes, and you were involved with those trying to kill her," Hakeem reminded him coldly.

He turned to Xanthe, "Did you know anything of that?" Xanthe merely shook her head. She looked completely defeated.

Hakeem turned back to Nikan with a chilling smile. "Well, Nikan, you are about to find out what I do to people who try to kill my wife. I promise you won't like it; you won't like it at all.

"Care to tell me who the others are? No? Well, we will have plenty of time to talk about it later. No matter what you think now, you will be cooperative."

Wife? This was news to Seléne and Xanthe. They looked at Hakeem and Elena in astonishment. Seléne recalled in horror how she had attacked her new brother-in-law, injuring him twice, all within a few hours of their very first meeting. All this when he was risking his life to rescue her.

Hakeem passed the dagger back to Seléne. "Seléne, please forgive me. I would never hurt you, and would never let anyone else hurt you, but I had to keep you in the dark for your safety. If anything went wrong in the early part, it could still be Dumaya and his prisoner. We would have had a chance to get away. I couldn't ask you to act that. I also hoped to trick some information out of Nikan, but my act was mainly for your mother." He turned to address Xanthe.

"Xanthe, you are Nikan's mother and have a mother's love for her son. This has led you into appalling folly. You needed to see him for what he is."

He gave Xanthe a look of compassion. "While you hid yourself away from Cyron, you could pretend. You needed to come face to face with the monster you were unleashing. I wanted to give you one final chance at redemption. I find you are worthy of that chance.

"In the end, you were willing to give your life for Cyron's."

Xanthe held her hands to her face in shock. Much of the burden she had been carrying for such a long while fell away. Tears ran heedless down her cheeks.

She looked at Hakeem in wonder. "Hakeem, you have saved my husband and daughter. You have also saved me, I was at the brink of some waking horror, some damnation that I could not escape from. I will gladly pay with my life to make amends, as I must. At least I have a chance to repent and see a great evil prevented. Thank you!

"Elena, I have caused you great hurt, none of which you deserved. It was for my son, but please know that I go to my death regretting that, more than anything else I have done."

"Oh this is so touching!" snarled Nikan struggling with the guards, "None of you will get out of here alive!"

"Including, your own mother," Hakeem added. "You already planned to kill her, because she was getting in your way. Would you save her now?"

Nikan simply laughed.

Just then, a young Gypsy girl strode in confidently, carrying two bows and quivers. She looked at Elena efficiently binding Hakeem's wounds as she laid Elena's weapons close to her. "Father, did you have to fight him? I didn't know there was someone good enough to do that to you."

Hakeem looked embarrassed. "No, it was the girl I was sent to rescue. You can tell she's related to your mother!"

Seléne's head was spinning. This is Elena's daughter? What did it mean for the Prophecy? She looked in surprise at Jacinta, and gravely at her new brother-in-law. She tiptoed over and reached up and kissed him on the lips. "Thank you, Hakeem for rescuing me. Thank you for everything," she said softly, eyes moist with gratitude.

Hakeem turned crimson under his tan, and looked infinitely pleased.

"Thanks, Seléne, did you know you are so much nicer to rescue than your big sister? You may stab a man a few times, sure, but at least you don't swear at him like she did, and rescuing Elena was really hard. This has been easy so far."

Seléne was starting to wonder about her brother-in-law. He had seemed so terrifying, now he seemed, well …

"My lord," one of the Gypsies burst in carrying a sword he had either smuggled in or taken from Hakeem's supply. "We have a serious problem!"

Hakeem had spoken too soon.

The rescue was now going to get very hard, very quickly. Hakeem, Belamus, Elena and Jacinta went hurriedly to the outer room to talk to the Gypsy lookout.

Nikan yelled out in glee after them. "It's not over yet! You can't get out of here!"

Hakeem shook his head. "What is this 'getting out of here'? That was never the plan."

But he needed to find a way to keep his little group alive.

"It's messy out there, my Lord."

The Gypsies had been able to maintain communications and scout the enemy. That advantage was lost when the fighting had started.

Hector was now in control of the city itself, and easily outnumbered Nikan's followers. The problem was inside the palace. Belamus had positioned the few he could sneak in close to the King, and he hid what men he could amongst the servants. These were supplemented by the Gypsies but they were still outnumbered until Hector and his men could fight their way in.

Whether the rescuers had been careless, betrayed or simply unlucky, forty or more of Nikan's men had managed to get into the inner sanctum and were rushing their way.

The rest of the rescuers already in the palace were fighting for their lives against uneven odds, and couldn't help.

In the distance, they could hear the sounds of fighting and the clash of weapons. Hector had reached the armoury at least, so their enemies would have no shields or bowmen but Hakeem had Elena, Jacinta, four men and a Gypsy to protect the royals and guard one prisoner ... against forty men. He called them all out of Cyron's room to explain the situation. Cyron was deeply asleep, so Hakeem ordered them to leave him alone for the moment.

"Bar that door!" Hakeem shouted.

Not a moment too soon! Nikan's men were carrying a heavy bench to use as a battering ram and immediately started to pound the door. While it was a solid wooden door, it was not reinforced. It left only two doors between the rebels and the seriously ill King.

"We can't keep them out!" Hakeem yelled loudly to the others. "We must negotiate!" He raised his voice higher and shouted, "We have Nikan!"

The noise outside the door stopped. A gruff voice replied, "Let him go!"

Hakeem asked "We have women and children. Will you spare them?"

"Yes, let him go!"

Hakeem looked at Nikan anxiously, "Do you promise them safe passage?"

Nikan looked smug. If he got to his men, he could win. "Of course!" he said, trying to look sincere.

There were howls of protests. Xanthe, Seléne, Belamus and his men were all shouting. Jacinta and Elena stared at Hakeem, frozen in horror.

"Can't you see? We can't hold them! We will all die," Hakeem said, facing Elena. "At least he will let the women and children live."

Elena looked bleakly back at Hakeem. "Do you really have to do this thing?" she said very softly.

"I'm sorry, my love, it has come to this," Hakeem said quietly, he looked miserable, defeated, his shoulders slumped. Elena nodded almost imperceptibly; her face very grim.

Hakeem stood between Nikan and the door and he turned to face Nikan. He had his sword raised to prevent an escape. The others were back against the wall.

Jacinta tiptoed across to Seléne, took her hand and led her back to Elena. Elena rested her bow against a chair and pulled her sister close, then turned her so Seléne was facing her. She bent over and was talking very quietly to her, looking deep into her eyes.

Then Elena straightened up, her voice rang out, "Unbind him! Give him his sword!" she shouted over the protests. "You will obey me! Now! Stand well back from him!" She looked at Nikan. "Tell them!"

Nikan laughed. "Thank you so much, my dear sister. It's been such a pleasure to best you once again. You and your barbarian have lost." Then Nikan shouted to those beyond. "They are letting me go!"

The men inside cleared a table that was hastily pulled against the door and then moved back to the others. Hakeem yelled out in a loud voice. "Stand well back from the door, right against the wall. He's about to head out!"

He turned to Nikan. "Are you ready?" Nikan smiled broadly and gave a mock salute with his sword.

It all happened at once.

Elena grabbed Seléne and pulled her savagely towards her and bent over, smothering her face and covering her ears with her Gypsy dress. Jacinta nocked an arrow and raised it, her body completely relaxed as she had been taught. Nikan looked at Hakeem's implacable expression in sudden horrified understanding and desperately lunged.

Hakeem moved with impossible speed and power. He dodged back in a precise move to induce Nikan into a full extension, his sword blocking Nikan's as he did so.

Hakeem's body moved so quickly it was hard to follow. He rocked down and twisted away in one smooth motion, then instantly rebounded in perfect balance and control. He needed power for what he wanted to do. He deliberately twisted his powerful body as if winding it up. Then he struck like a cobra.

Grunting with the effort and picking up speed and power, he put his full power into the counter. Mir whistled through the air. There was a horrible soggy thump. Blood sprayed everywhere, Nikan's body dropped.

Nikan was known as an excellent swordsman; Hakeem had taken his head in two quick, precise movements.

Hakeem then put his boot on Nikan's head and hacked awkwardly at the remaining tissues, then he lifted the dripping head left-handed and ran to the door. Mir was held out, ready.

He unlatched the door, his left hand slippery with blood, and then booted the door hard open and charged through.

The men were pressed against the far wall when the warlord burst in on them. He was huge, wild and very angry, covered in dripping blood. His eyes looked crazed, he was snarling; his sword left a bloody trail on the floor underneath. He swung the dripping head like a sling. It flew, striking one of Nikan's men hard. The man fell with a cry and then, to the horror of the rest, the head bounced and rolled across the floor.

The bloody warlord screamed at them. "This is your Nikan! Throw down your weapons now! Or by all the Gods I will kill every one of you!"

He stalked halfway towards them and waited, arms wide, grinning hungrily. His face was changing in front of their eyes. It was as if a daimôn had possessed his body!

He crouched there drooling, mad and laughing. His face was distorted in an inhuman growl. His neck and body were red and bulging with muscle and tendons. He was terrifyingly strong, and he moved with impossible speed! He snarled and howled in evil glee!

Jacinta had run, just behind her father, bringing an arrow to bear. Elena threw Seléne roughly at Xanthe in haste. The girl tripped and would have dashed her head against the wall if Xanthe hadn't caught her.

Before Seléne recovered, Elena had snatched her bow and quiver and was halfway to the door, running hard. For an instant, the others were frozen in shock and then they all charged out, weapons ready and screaming for all to surrender in the King's name.

* * *

From a distance he heard Elena calling, "Hakeem, it's over."

Jacinta was somewhere there as if he heard her from the bottom of a well. "Father, let go of your sword."

He concentrated. It seemed so hard to open his hand. Then he heard the clatter of a weapon.

He was coming back to himself. While the guards were looking after the prisoners, the two women he loved led him back towards the room where Cyron lay.

"Can you bring my sword, Meli? It's not dinted is it?" he said through a haze. "Don't let people see me like this. I need to wash. What will they think of me?" he pleaded, distressed.

Jacinta laughed out loud, "What will they think of you? I think you had better ask the ones who saw you in action. Looking like you do now, you look just the part. Don't worry we'll get you cleaned up. I'm glad you are out of it.

"Berserker! Perhaps this was another small thing you forgot to tell us.

"I heard about the Berserkers but I thought it was just a legend, I never believed it. There were forty of them and they begged us to protect them from you. Does this happen often?"

"Only once before … I think it was because you and Elena were threatened."

"Well," Elena laughed. "I suppose that should make us feel safe, but you had us absolutely terrified as well. Some of the men wet themselves in fear. They were happy to surrender to us."

"Elena, Jacinta, please forgive me!"

"Forgive you! Well, let me see … I think I can!" Elena exclaimed, clutching fondly at her man. "You rescued my sister and father, you killed Nikan, you saved our kingdom, you prevented a civil war, you even did something good but weird to Xanthe.

"I love you so much. I know you don't mean to ... but just don't you dare not tell me these sorts of things again!"

"Speak for yourself, mother!" Jacinta said with a wicked grin. "There's something Hakeem did that I don't think I will ever be able to forgive as long as I live."

"What?" Elena and Hakeem both turned to her, seriously concerned.

Jacinta looked at her father fondly and laughed. "When you said 'he's about to head out!'… that is the worst joke, I've ever heard."

Soon the three were laughing and hugging each other, mindless of the mess. They all needed a bath. Elena reflected how bloodthirsty they had become under Hakeem's influence. The society women of her stepmother's court would not approve of her now, of course, they never really had.

 

Chapter 30: An Unexpected Return, Apologies, and Monsters

Hakeem took extra time to bathe and wash his hair and scrub each part of himself clean. He was just drying himself when Belamus came to see them in Elena's quarters. Elena checked who was outside the door, and he was alone, before letting him in.

Her hand was on her bow which was still strung with an arrow loosely nocked and the quiver in easy reach. Hakeem cautiously peaked from the other room. He had Mir in one hand but was otherwise naked.

"Now there's a strange sight!" commented Belamus conversationally. "Does he do that in battle too?"

"Oh," Hakeem groaned loudly from the other room. "Don't you start on me! I don't think I'll ever live that down. I'll be out in a minute."

"How is he?" Belamus whispered.

"Really, he's just his old self, though he's so embarrassed. If he apologises one more time, I'll hit him myself. It was terrifying, like some sort of wild animal, but now I think it's almost sweet. This thing came out because I was in danger with Jacinta."

"Well he would only have got himself killed."

"You're so wrong!" Elena laughed. "They were carrying short swords. He had Mir. No one had a shield. He had them on the back foot.

"Jacinta and I could have easily taken two or three each. Then the others were coming, but I suspect they would only have had what Hakeem and we left for them."

Belamus looked at Elena in amazement, "Forty men! You have got to be joking!"

Elena softly replied. "You haven't seen him fight! I have, and that was without any Berserker thing."

Belamus looked considerably chastened. "Oh," was all he could manage.

"How's Seléne?" Hakeem emerged in a tunic, towelling his hair. He had brought Mir in and propped it up against the wall.

"Surprisingly good, I think she's asleep now. Did you know Jacinta has moved in with her? Jacinta is her self-appointed bodyguard. There are no other young girls in the palace. No one would trust Nikan with their daughter. She keeps her bow strung and handy. It's not necessary. Hector and his men must have been over the palace a dozen times. They are so apologetic that they let Nikan get away with this."

"I think today we have forgotten to tell Jacinta just how much we love her," Elena said to Hakeem and they shared a tender smile.

"I certainly hope she has her bow strung!" Hakeem said firmly. "It's how she was trained. She's not to relax her guard too soon. I need to apologise to Seléne," he added.

"Hadn't you done that already, Hakeem, several times?" Elena enquired, carrying her bow and quiver with her as she moved around.

"Yes, well er," Hakeem said, in some confusion.

"Cyron is feeling a bit better already. He's had quite a large helping of broth and some water and he's calling for both of you," Belamus announced.

"You had better take your weapons," he added. "I saw a scullery maid lurking around earlier. I thought she looked suspicious and rather dangerous. She was carrying a large dish of suds!"

* * *

Cyron had been moved to the royal quarters. He was attended by two maids at all times. No one had thought to ban Xanthe, and she was keeping a bedside vigil.

"He is asleep again," Xanthe said, "He was asking for you earlier." She couldn't bring herself to say more. She looked tired and drawn.

Elena looked down at her father.

"Oh, Hakeem! He looks so old and sick," she said shaking her head slowly. "I never thought my father would look so old."

Hakeem kept silent. He knew how desperately close Cyron had come to dying. The old King had been drifting into a coma from which he was unlikely to emerge. It was not surprising that he still looked ill. What was surprising was that he hadn't succumbed several weeks before.

Elena bent over to look down on her father as he slept. She covered her mouth, to stifle a sob. A tear fell to wet her father's face. At that Cyron awoke, his voice was faint and scratchy.

"Elena? Is it really you? Please tell me this isn't a dream."

"Yes father, I have returned," Elena said softly. "Though not in the way anyone expected."

"Oh, Elena! Dear Elena!" The old man said, tears streaming down his cheeks. "They said you were dead. My heart was broken. I couldn't eat, I couldn't sleep. Now that I see your face I can die in peace."

"Not so fast you old fool!" Elena rebuked him

Then she bent to kiss him tenderly on his cheek, smiling. "You need my permission to do that, and I certainly don't give it. Not at all! I have need of you, father!"

"Yes, I am an old fool," said Cyron. He relaxed back against the pillow with a contented smile, his tears still coming. "I'm glad, if you need my help. Can you ever forgive me?"

"Well, about that we'll just have to see, won't we?" said Elena, laying her head on his chest and hugging him. She gave him a firm kiss on the cheek. "You have to be on your best behaviour for a change, but first, you must get better."

"Hakeem," Cyron called. "Where is Hakeem?"

"I am here, Great Lord!" Hakeem announced. "But I never gave you my name."

"Hakeem," Cyron said. "You were there with me!

"You are the one foretold, of dark complexion but filled with great love. I am honoured to meet you. To think it has come. It has really come, and in my lifetime!

"And Jacinta, she is the third, is she not? Where is she?"

"Great King!" Hakeem was overcome. He fell to his knees, by the side of the bed. "You give me too much honour. It is I who is honoured to appear before the King of the Eastern Elves, and the father of Elena and Seléne. As to Jacinta, she guards Seléne who has had a bad time, some of which I added to."

At the last remark, Cyron smiled. "I see you already love Seléne. Hakeem you are such a good man. You and Elena have my blessings on your marriage, let none say different. To have all three here … and two are human. Well, this will do some stuffy elves a great deal of good."

Cyron would need lots of sleep. Any food he ate would be tested till he recovered. They planned to find his old servants and healers whom Nikon had dismissed.

"What will you do with Xanthe?" Hakeem asked as they walked back.

"You think I should pardon her, don't you?" Elena asked.

"My Lady, do you ask for advice, or what I might do were it my decision?" Hakeem asked. "If you ask me to judge your decision, I cannot. I am not you, nor am I in your position."

"I have already talked to Jacinta." Elena said with a small smile, "she told me what I have to do. Xanthe has plotted against the life of the King. The law is clear. Her life is forfeit, and she will be hanged!"

Hakeem nodded solemnly. "I will go to this, when will this be?"

"Well, that's the problem, as Jacinta explained to me. You see, I have to set the date. Well, I am likely to be too busy to get around to it, at least for the next few years. In the meantime, she will live in exile on her estates. I will see she is well looked after. That is of course until the day … damn! What was it I was supposed to do?"

Hakeem threw his head back and laughed and laughed, hugging Elena to him.

"Jacinta, Jacinta!" was all he could say. Trust Jacinta to find a solution.

* * *

It took a few days to convince Hakeem to stop apologising. It was when Hakeem and Elena were visiting Seléne in her room. She was waiting with Jacinta who was her constant companion.

"Oh, Seléne!" Hakeem said as he walked in. "I hope you're better, you look better. You know how sorry I am for what happened."

Seléne looked at him in frustration. To everyone but Hakeem, it was obvious she had developed a slight crush on her new brother-in-law.

"Stop apologising! You come to visit; you say 'please forgive me!'" She said mimicking Hakeem's deep voice.

"I see you in the hall: 'please forgive me'. Everywhere I go 'please forgive me' What do I have to forgive? You have rescued me and my family, you wonderful idiot. No more 'please forgive me' or I'll hit you.

"You faced a hundred men with nothing but a chicken bone."

"Don't forget, as naked as the day he was born." Elena added, laughing. The three girls were in hysterics.

Hakeem gave a shy smile, "I'm sorr…..I mean, I …….thanks, Seléne that really means a lot to me. I'll try. I do feel a little embarrassed."

"Do you?" Jacinta enquired, seeming surprised. "We hadn't noticed! But 'Dumaya'? … Why is that name familiar?"

Jacinta looked thoughtful.

"Well, er. It's Aramaic for the… er … angel of death … I really think 'Dumaya' was one of my better creations, don't you think?" Hakeem finished brightly, and smiled hopefully at the three 'women'.

"Angel of death? Angel of death! That's a bit fancy for you isn't it, father?" Jacinta replied in mock astonishment. "Isn't the Paladin, the mighty Warlord, the scourge of the desert and the greatest fighter ever born enough for you? Angel of death, indeed!"

This set the three girls again to laughing, and got a gentle chuckle from Hakeem.

* * *

Elena had joined Seléne in her room to chat, and catch up with the latest events. It was now two weeks since the rescue. The priestess had confirmed that Elena, Hakeem and Jacinta were indeed the three mentioned in Prophecy.

The marriage of Elena to Hakeem and her adoption of Jacinta was confirmed by royal proclamation.

Xanthe had officially abdicated, and Elena was announced as the new Queen. It was an exceptionally low-key event for an elvish succession! A grand ceremony was planned for when Cyron was sufficiently recovered.

As Hakeem guessed, Cyron was recovering quickly. He would soon be well enough to travel to his country estate, where he wished to recuperate. Seléne, Hector and Belamus would accompany him, so Elena would be left in charge in Elgard.

"At least it makes Hector's oath to me legal," Elena was saying. "As a secondary royal I'm allowed a small number sworn to me above all others, and then I swear loyalty to Father. I really wish Father wasn't going, though.

"He is too weak to help, but at least I can ask his advice, and borrow his authority. Once he goes, I have to deal with the court myself. Many don't accept that the other two prophesied are human. They see it as an insult. It will be me that has to face the backlash and frankly I'm scared of it. I have to get the elves to see humans and elves as equals. How can I ever do that?

"Father thinks he's doing me a favour by getting out of my way. I don't need the old fool's favours, I need him. And you and Hector are going, you traitors. I know, I know … Father really needs both of you." She sighed.

"Father is recovering so rapidly," Seléne smiled. "We'll be back within a moon and you're so wrong about not being popular. Even before you left you were popular, and now the story of your flight from assassins and return to rescue me and father is exactly the sort of tale that delights elves, you must know that. They are writing stories and songs about it already.

"That you returned with two humans instead of two elves was a shock, even to me. But Hakeem and Jacinta! None could be better! Give people time, your remaining enemies are very much in a minority, believe me."

"I hope you're right," Elena said pensively. "I didn't want to be a princess then, and I certainly don't want to be a queen now. Did you know that I wished I never had to return? All I really wanted was be Hakeem's wife and give him children and never see this place again. I had so much pain and unhappiness here. The further away I got from this place the happier I became.

"Then I heard you and father were in danger. I was so frightened! Hector didn't know what to do. I know Hakeem would ride to his death unconcerned, but he seemed so sure of himself. He actually seemed to be looking forward to it, bless him.

"Everything seemed so complicated and difficult but Hakeem just asked his questions and made it seem simple. Hector idealises him and you know Hector's reputation.

"He knew the only way to guarantee your safety was to have us all together and have Nikan and, if need be, Xanthe, captive. He can be lightning fast and accurate in his thinking in a battle. He says it just seems obvious to him. It's in contrast to his thinking about relationships." Elena smiled fondly. "Nikan was a dead man as soon as Hakeem found out what he was doing."

"Thank you for sparing me from seeing what happened to Nikan," Seléne continued to her sister. "I really thought for a moment you planned to smother me, so Nikan couldn't get me again, then you tried to dash my brains against a wall. Luckily Mother caught me. You don't know how strong you have become."

Elena laughed. "I really had to move quickly, to cover those men. I wasn't trying to kill you. I was trying to rescue you."

Seléne laughed. "Well try to remember that the next time, dear sister!

"I don't know why I thought Hakeem would ever let Nikan go. It seems ridiculous now. Why would he let Nikan go and join his men? But it was all happening so fast, and Hakeem made it seem inevitable. How did you and Jacinta know?"

Elena thought for a moment. "It just seemed obvious to us. Perhaps because we know Hakeem so well, but more likely, we are starting to think like him. Jacinta went to fetch you to me, without being told. She knew exactly what was going to happen.

"Hakeem and I may have seemed to be discussing releasing Nikan, but we were really talking of the need to execute him on the spot. Hakeem wanted to shock those men into surrender. Cutting off Nikan's head and throwing it at them was part of his plan as soon as he heard they were coming.

"He didn't want all those men to die just because they were loyal. That's how he thinks. He says once he killed Nikan, those men were definitely going to surrender and he had Xanthe, if need be, so having to fight them was most unlikely."

"You could have fooled me," Seléne said. "I thought he was ready to attack those men with his bare hands if necessary." She shuddered at the memory.

Elena nodded, "Well, not with his bare hands. Sometimes you have to kill to defend those you love, even if those you kill aren't bad people. That is the evil of war, Hakeem says.

"He can't recall anything beyond starting the counter to Nikan's lunge, so we'll never know for sure. Apparently, that's an effect of the Berserker rage."

"So he would have killed my mother too, if he thought he had to? If she was a danger and there was no other way. Even though she was unarmed?" Seléne shivered.

"With shocking abruptness," Elena nodded. "He doesn't kill innocents and only kills when there is no other way but Xanthe could hardly be seen as an innocent, whether she carried a weapon or not. If she was a danger to us and there was no other way, she would be dead already.

"I know it makes him sound like a cold monster. I have come to the same attitude, so I guess I'm a monster too, and your darling Gypsy friend, Jacinta, is another cruel monster.

"Try to understand it from their point of view, and it's my view too. People don't die. They are simply reborn into the next life and the learning they will find there. If you truly believe this, you do not fear death."

"Oh, my dear sister!" Seléne complained. "You're giving me a headache!"

"I know," Elena chuckled. "Hakeem loves to talk about tactics and philosophy. Ask him sometime if you have a very great deal of time and want to be bored through the floor.

"Well he isn't that bad, I guess, but he can talk endlessly, about his religion and he really gets carried away unless you ask him to stop. Did you know he wanted to become a religious monk?"

"Hakeem … a monk?" Seléne snorted in surprise.

Elena nodded. "It's easy to get the wrong impression about Hakeem when you first meet him. I certainly did. Then you realise that he is a warrior, yes, but he lives and breathes his beliefs. He really cares for people and hates war."

"I certainly got the wrong impression at first. I didn't think it was possible to be so frightened of someone," Seléne volunteered. "Was there a real torturer?"

Elena nodded, "Belamus found out about it, it was supposed to be Nikan's secret."

"Let me guess," Seléne said. "He met Hakeem."

Elena laughed. "It was a very brief meeting."

Seléne smiled, shaking her head. "I think Hakeem's making me a little bloodthirsty too. I can't feel sorry for people who enjoy torturing people ... especially if they were going to torture me.

"Dear sister, apart from being more bloodthirsty, you are different: more confident, happier than I have ever seen you. It warms my heart to see you like this."

Elena's eyes became moist and she smiled gently with a distant look on her face.

"It's not just Hakeem and Jacinta, though I love them both deeply. After getting away from the palace I found in common people, and in being a common person, so much love and happiness." Elena started to cry and Seléne hugged her sister with tears in her own eyes, tears of happiness.

 

Chapter 31: A Catastrophe only a Woman Could Understand

It was before Seléne and Cyron left, that the new Queen faced the first crisis of her rule.

It was a catastrophe only a fellow woman could understand!

"Arrgh! ..." Elena screamed in horror. "My hair is ruined."

She began to cry.

Seléne and Jacinta sat on either side and tried to comfort the young Queen. Her hair was still wet, from her latest attempt to remove the dye with a vinegar wash and … it was still black.

The skin dye they had used had gone at last. So Elena at least looked like an elf again, but the hair dye couldn't be washed out, no matter what she tried.

Seléne's hair was full-bodied and black, which was unusual for one of the Eastern Elves, but it still had the gorgeous lustre of elvish hair. Elena's hair on the other hand was typically elvish: soft and silky but very fine and it grew slowly.

If she couldn't remove the dye, she would be doomed to almost a year of blond roots and black tips, or she would have to shave her head, usually a severe punishment for naughty young elves.

"What am I to do?" she asked the two girls tearfully. "Hakeem loves my hair, and my job as Queen will be hard enough without me looking stupid."

Her mouth formed a wicked smile, through her tears.

For an instant she was dreaming of Omar chained in her dungeon, and introducing him to Dumaya.

"Mother!" Jacinta caught the look and read her mind. "Whatever evil thoughts you are having about Abbā Omar, you will stop them right now! He saved our lives. Besides, he is a bachelor, he probably didn't know about the hair dye."

Elena slumped, despondent. Hakeem was unlikely to torture his friend.

He would if he really loved her!

"Perhaps you could try Anaxagoras," Seléne said considering.

Elena looked up with red rimmed eyes. "What's that?"

"You really didn't get around a lot, before, did you, sister?" Seléne said, "Not what, but who. Anaxagoras is the Royal Chemist. He is very clever, if rather unusual. He will help, if he finds the problem interesting."

"He'll help if he finds keeping his head on his shoulders interesting," Elena growled.

Desperate matters required desperate measures!

"Mother!" Jacinta scolded Elena. "We just got rid of one bad Queen. You're not allowed to become another. You will need to learn to rule with more than just threats. Besides, I have met Anaxagoras and he wouldn't understand threats.

"He is, well, unusual. All you have to do is flatter him about his knowledge and pretend you're interested in whatever he wants to talk about and he will do anything for you."

Seléne looked at Jacinta in surprise. She was right. She hadn't thought of it before, but that was exactly how to get Anaxagoras to do something for you.

Seléne was starting to notice just how clever her Gypsy friend could be.

* * *

Unusual was a good description when Elena went to see her Royal Chemist.

Anaxagoras was a hunched, untidy elf of uncertain age. He had uncombed red hair and penetrating green eyes that burned with unusual intelligence. His work area was cluttered with odd bits of half-completed experiments. Elena didn't expect him, despite seeming to know about almost everything about everything, to know anything about hair.

When she did ask, she almost wished she hadn't.

He was delighted to have an interested audience, and it started a seemingly endless monologue.

As he talked, he carefully examined Elena's hair and showed his apprentices. He looked at it, separated it, looked at its roots and the scalp, felt it, and combed it back and forward. He took a few strands and examined them, saw how strong they were. Burnt some, and then added chemicals to others. All the time he was lecturing not only his apprentices, but Elena!

After more than an hour of this, Elena had a dazed look on her face. She just wanted her hair fixed. She didn't want a year's course on the philosophy of hair, but all elf scientists tended to be the same. Sometimes, they even forgot to eat.

What were these people called in Greek? Megalofyias (nerds) ! It was after Megalofyia ("big head") the small but especially annoying Karian sprite of knowledge and philosophy.

He tried washing it, nothing happened. Elena could have told him that already.

He was intrigued as to how Omar managed a permanent effect. Without really wanting to, Elena learned that the colour of the hair was at the core, in Eastern Elves it was blond or reddish.

The outer protective coat resulted in the hair's silky and lustrous feel. Most the common dyes would only coat the outside. The result was uneven and obvious, and would wash off, sometimes in a single wash.

"My Lady," the chemist finally concluded. "I simply can't bring back the natural colour of your hair!"

Elena's gasped in horror. "Omar!" she said through gritted teeth.

The chemist held up his hand. "I'm sure Father Omar didn't know. It wouldn't be his invention. Humans discover lots of things through trial and error, but this is truly marvellous. I didn't know it could be done."

"I intend to do some things to Omar when I next meet him that he won't see as marvellous!" Elena said bleakly.

"My lady, be fair. The Lord Abbot saved your life by your disguise. Any other dye would not make you look like a Gypsy. He even managed to add a bit of bounce to your hair. This is wonderful!"

Elena wasn't finding it at all wonderful, and was getting images of tipping some of his more toxic chemicals over the head of this particular nerd.

"What I can do … is give you something close to your normal hair colour, and then you will have to wait till it grows out. I have never done this before, but I'm sure I can do it.

"It is only fair to warn you, though, that there may be some dangers. To get at the inner core of the hair, where the pigment is, I will have to damage the outer protective coat that gives the hair its shine and silky feel. That's what must have been done.

"Did Omar use several steps? … Yes, that makes sense.

"After that I will dye your hair, then I will repair the outer layer. You know the feel of greasy wool? Nothing like that, but your scalp still produces oils to repair your hair, and I will have to produce something to do the same job.

"Mmm. They have damaged the hair, dyed it and then repaired it. Now I understand … that's marvellous!"

To damage then repair something that was not living didn't sound marvellous to Elena. It sounded like the height of recklessness.

And she didn't want to be left with something like greasy wool but at least, he could help her, if only he would get to the point.

"Now where was I? Oh, yes, I can make a substance that can damage the outer layer and remove the dye but it will remove your natural pigment altogether. Your hair will not be golden, but more of a white. Then I can try to copy the process that was used for the dark dye, but instead use a golden colour, and finally, I will repair the outer layer!

"Damaging the outer layer has already been done, so I have to be more careful. I'll use warm water so we don't have to use as much chemical, but we mustn't scald your scalp, that wouldn't be so healthy, now would it?" He permitted himself a small chuckle over his joke.

No off course not! Elena thought, as she gritted her teeth. Burning your Queen's scalp would not be at all healthy for you, would it now, Anaxagoras?

But he was going on.

"We will bring your hair back to its colour over two or three treatments. The danger would be that you will be left with thin and dry hair, or the colour won't be as I wish. I will have to purify some chemicals I have. Was one of them the one that blew up last time? Er, let me think!"

Great! That's reassuring, Elena thought. He'd never done this before. She might be left with thin and dry hair, or even be blown up, or scalded!

Perhaps Hakeem would remove this megalofyia's head for her, if he made a mess of her hair. Elena smiled at the thought. Oh, well. If she didn't let him try, she'd have to cut most of her hair off anyway.

She gathered her courage, "Let's do it! Can Jacinta and Seléne come with me?"

* * *

"Aaah!" Elena wailed in horror, throwing her mirror on the table. "I look like a mouse!"

It was the afternoon following the first treatment. The three girls were in Seléne's room. Jacinta and Seléne had continued sharing, though there were plenty of rooms at the Palace.

"It's not too bad," Seléne and Jacinta said in unison, trying desperately not to giggle.

Poor Elena! A mouse was a perfect description! It was exactly that colour: light brown with faint silver-grey hues!

"Oh, Mother," said Jacinta, putting her arm on her mother's shoulder and trying to comfort her. "It's only for one week, you heard Anaxagoras. He was delighted with the result. I'm sure he really didn't mean to say it could go green after the next step."

Elena started to cry.

It was going to be an impossible task of breaking down millennia of elvish prejudice against humans. She had the incident at her coming of age and her trip to Djorn. Now, to make it completely impossible for her, when she first appeared as Queen, she would look like freak.

"No one can see me!" Elena decided firmly, putting on her gypsy diklo.

"Mother!" Jacinta laughed. "Get rid of that ridiculous hat!"

Jacinta made a lunge and grabbed the hat, but Elena jumped on her, pinning her to the bed. Jacinta made an awkward one-handed pass to Seléne who retreated to the other end of the room with the prize.

Should they play piggy in the middle? Seléne wondered. Elena used to like that game. Just now though, Elena looked like she would offer violence!

Then they heard Hakeem approaching.

"Hakeem! ... He can't see me like this!" Elena cried, in a panic.

"Now, how do you propose to prevent that, sister of mine?" Seléne asked, incredulous.

Elena made another desperate attempt to retrieve her ridiculous hat, but Seléne held it firmly out of her reach.

"Mother! Listen to me!" Jacinta whispered urgently. "With you in that gorgeous dress, Hakeem will hardly notice!"

"No, Jacinta, you are wrong," Elena said. "Your father has become a master tracker. You've been with him in the forest."

"Mother, he's a male!" Jacinta said, surprised at her mother's ignorance. "Women have to cook, clean, look after two or three children and boss their man around; all the while they are chatting with their best friends and family as well.

"Inside the house, men can only focus on one thing at a time. They simply don't register all the details women do, trust me. In the presence of beautiful women, their focus becomes narrowed. They notice the tone of her voice, a general impression of her body and … well … her breasts, and her mood."

Elena snorted, "Mostly breasts, I think."

Jacinta nodded, "Now if you promise not to get angry with father, I'll show you. Just be nice."

Elena looked at Jacinta sceptically, and then she looked resentful. Finally, reluctantly, she nodded. It was going to be hard not to get angry, but she would try.

"Well hello, girls! Hello Elena!" Hakeem burst in a little breathlessly, giving Elena an absent-minded kiss.

He was as excited as a small boy. He could hardly contain himself. "Guess who I just met, of all people? Anaxagoras! And you know what? He's agreed to help me."

Hakeem paused, triumphant, waiting for their reaction.

The three girls looked at him blankly.

"You must know, surely you remember. The fireworks at Kassie's wedding of course! I want to see if they can be used to make a weapon."

Elena almost swore at him, couldn't he focus on something important for a change? Like her hair? But she had promised to keep her temper; so she smiled pleasantly around gritted teeth. Jacinta flashed a smirk at her mother.

"Oh, I do like that dress!" Hakeem smiled in obvious appreciation. That was better, Elena thought.

"Would you like it better, if it were the colour of the night-dress mum wore to bed the night before?" Jacinta enquired innocently.

All three girls were looking at him with seemingly innocent interest, Hakeem found it very disconcerting. He screwed up his face in an effort to remember what Elena wore. He remembered how wonderful she looked, and the feel of her body under the silky fabric, but which one of her night dresses was it?

He started to feel nervous. His palms were starting to sweat. He carefully watched the girls' expressions. No, he didn't seem to be in trouble … yet.

"Er… red?" he suggested.

"No, Honey," Elena gave him a serene smile. "I wore that the night before. It was the dark green, you remember?"

Hakeem's mind was completely blank. He remembered the feel of her arms around him, her putting her hand on his chest, kissing her and her body, the gorgeous feeling of her breasts, making love afterwards.

Hakeem laughed nervously, "I'm sorry honey, it was too dark."

"No it wasn't, darling." Elena replied, still smiling, "We sat by the fire talking, surely you remember that?"

Hakeem dabbed at his forehead, and eyed his wife nervously, he was sweating freely now and his breath felt constricted.

Elena twirled around "What about the rest of me? What do you think?"

Hakeem rarely felt he was being watched so intensely.

He scanned his wife rapidly: feet, bare … no ankle chain; the pendant, earrings, bangles were the same. "Oh yes, you've cut your hair. And … changed the colour!" he added triumphantly.

"No I haven't cut it darling, it's just been washed. Do you like it?" Elena enquired.

Hakeem considered. They could almost see the wheels turning slowly in his mind. "Sorry darling, I prefer your original colour or even the black. You still look lovely though and I really like that dress!"

"Thanks darling, why don't you go off to see Anaxagoras? … Of course, it's alright if we miss you for lunch, we'll just see you at dinner."

Hakeem left quickly, retreating while he could.

He would have to try to memorise what Elena wore but he loved his wife, he loved to watch her: standing, talking, sleeping, how she moved, almost anything. He still felt flushed at times by her presence; he loved her feel, her touch, her scent and making love.

The other day, she asked him if he thought she had put on weight.

How would he know something like that? Why didn't she ask one of the girls? She looked great, that's all he knew! As he left, he heard the three girls laughing. Now what was that all about?

Soon he was giving it no more thought.

 

Chapter 32: Hakeem, other Mad Scientists, and the Holy Mother

Kaboom! There was a loud explosion and a small wooden box flew two feet in the air to land upside down, smoking. It left a great cloud of smelly black smoke hanging in the air.

Elena was treated to the strange sight of Hakeem (in trousers and a short-sleeved shirt) and Anaxagoras (in his laboratory smock) hugging each other and dancing up and down. Anaxagoras' students were cheering from a safe distance.

"We did it, we did it!" the two very oddly matched friends were shouting excitedly.

Both men's faces were blackened, their clothes looked filthy. Anaxagoras's hair was dishevelled and dusty with cinders, his eyebrows and lashes were singed. Hakeem was not much better, with his beard was singed in several places.

Elena had come to see why Hakeem had missed an official lunch, as if she didn't know.

She was wearing an exquisite gown. Her hair was blond, well ahead of schedule, and was very prettily done up with sparkles like stars. In truth, it looked more like human blond than elf blond, but the effect was stunning.

She hadn't managed to convince Anaxagoras that women would kill for the chance to change the colour of their hair at will.

Now Hakeem and Anaxagoras were acting like two small boys who triumphantly found a patch of dirt in which to play. It had only been a week since Hakeem and Anaxagoras had met, and yet they acted as if they had known each other all their lives.

"My Lady! Your husband is brilliant! Did you see that box lift?" Anaxagoras called out breathlessly.

Indeed, Elena thought, no one's lifted a box before!

Hakeem was thrilled that she arrived just in time to see their experiment. He almost ran over to hug her excitedly with his filthy black hands. Elena danced skilfully out of the hug, with a small squeal.

Then Hakeem realised, and held his hands behind him and offered his black face to be kissed. again Elena had to duck and weave so her elegant gown and subtle face-paint weren't spoiled.

"Look at what we have made," Anaxagoras held up a long thin scrap of paper. "You know what it is?"

Elena smiled. She, too, sometimes screwed up small scraps of paper. It was just before she threw them out, but she was given no chance to reply.

"A wick!" Anaxagoras claimed excitedly.

A candle with such a wick would not do very well now would it? Perhaps she was missing the point.

"It's thin paper twisted around and around with fire powder inside. We can use it to light the fire powder and we can put the fire power in a small space and cause an explosion. Surely you can see how important this is!"

We can move more boxes around! Elena decided.

"Hakeem, haven't you forgotten something?" she enquired mildly.

"Oh Lord, sorry! The Persian Ambassador! When is lunch?" Hakeem asked, attempting to lift his coat up with his elbows and forearms, so he didn't get it dirty. Elena picked it up and then realised, belatedly, it was filthy. She passed it to one of the students, while she cleaned her hands in a half-clean bowl of water.

The man she gave it to looked at her and at the coat with a puzzled expression.

Give it to be washed, you fool! Elena thought at him, as she turned to her husband.

Lunch was over two hours ago, Elena had never known Hakeem to miss a meal before. Relations between the Shantawi and Persians were strained after the Persians invaded the Shantawi lands with a large force decades ago. They were only beaten back by a hair but as a result, the Shantawi had acquired a small string of Oases and some grazing land from the Persian Empire, which the Persians wanted back.

They had no hope whatsoever.

Of course, the Ambassador of the powerful Persian Empire wouldn't be upset by a deliberate snub! Elena had to admit he was an insufferable boor and wished she could have forgotten the luncheon herself.

She wasn't as angry as she had been two hours ago, but this had to be brought under control.

"Hakeem, you're going to wash up, you've played enough. Now say goodbye to your friend, you won't be able to play with him again for a few days. The ambassador has invited us for afternoon tea." And I have a double dose of him, thanks to you, she thought grimly.

"That's fine, honey, that's all we had to do," Hakeem replied happily, as he came along with her. "Anaxagoras can do the rest."

Elena tried to understand why he was so excited and pleased with what they had done. Noise, black smoke and lifting boxes were all she could see. Just like small boys at play, she thought.

Hakeem seemed like a child in a toy shop when he was introduced to the elven scientists and philosophers. They immediately accepted Hakeem as a member of their strange group and engaged him in their completely incomprehensible discussions.

Jacinta would join them when she could bear to separate herself from Seléne. She never would have dreamed it possible, but the signs were unmistakable, Hakeem was a 'big head'!

In an instant, her husband had transformed into a perfect nerd. He had been recognised and warmly welcomed by the members of the elvish 'big head' society. Anaxagoras didn't seem to consider it strange that his new friend was a trained killer. He would sometimes come to the training field in search of Hakeem to resume some obscure conversation.

Would she ever understand the whole of the man she loved?

Then a very dark thought occurred to her: Hakeem had always had been a thoroughgoing ‘big head’ but his specialty was being an efficient killer. No, that wasn't at all fair: his specialty was being a paladin, whatever that was. Elena smiled. She had married a nerd without realising it. Elena just wished the other elves would accept Hakeem as readily as the nerds and the priestesses of the Holy Mother.

Elena had grown up around the holy priestesses when she was sent to them for religious instruction. They had given her the training that helped her cope with the treatment she had at the hands of Xanthe. She loved the Great Mother, Astrior, and respected her, partly for who she was and what she was, and also partly from long training as a child, but it was tempered by familiarity.

It was hard to reconcile this with the attitude her husband and daughter had towards the head priestess. When they were told the old lady wished to see them, Hakeem became very sober and serious and Jacinta went very quiet.

When Hakeem, Jacinta and Elena arrived together at the temple of the Great Earth Mother they almost caused a riot!

They were the three mentioned in the Prophecy! Everyone wanted to see them and talk to them, or even just touch their clothes, from the most humble novice to the most senior of the sisters.

It took some time before the three could be ushered in to an audience with Astrior. Instead of the half-bow Elena was used to giving Astrior, Hakeem and Jacinta hurried forward and fell prostrate to kiss the ground before her.

Astrior accepted this without any surprise. Hakeem and Jacinta continued to call her 'Holy One' as if it were a title, but the three of them started talking in front of Elena as if they had known each other all their lives.

The instant connection between the Shayvists paladins and the Holy Mother should have surprised Elena, but somehow it didn't.

When she asked Jacinta about it later, Jacinta got a faraway look on her face and took a while to reply. Eventually she sighed, "Astrior has returned to our level of existence after ascending. There are very few of those. In her presence, we both felt it very strongly."

* * *

Elfriede, Anaxagoras's wife, looked at her new Queen in surprise.

"Do we really need all this sugar?"

Elena nodded.

The wonderful elvish winter solstice and Jacinta's thirteenth birthday celebrations had been ruined by Nikan's coup and the aftermath. She had come to talk to Elfriede, but was delighted to find the older woman was preparing to make biscuits for the late festival of winter.

Elena could not get anywhere near the royal kitchen without causing a scandal. Elfriede watched her energetically kneading small lumps of butter into the mixture of sugar and oatmeal flour. It was obviously a human recipe.

"If this becomes popular, we will have to plant more sugar beet," Elfriede suggested, chuckling.

"Then we will have to plant more sugar beet," Elena laughed, as she hefted a large ceramic jar of oatmeal flour out of the way on the bench.

"I'll send you some more sugar, but you can only make this for festivals, it's too expensive otherwise, but you know how we elves love sweet things."

Her new Queen was talking as if she were a peasant, careful about her money.

Elfriede, as the wife of Anaxagoras, had no more status at the court than a wife of a simple artisan. She couldn't believe that Elena was not merely visiting her, but cooking in her kitchen as if it was the most natural thing in the world, and she was so obviously enjoying herself and enjoying the company.

She was trying to work out what caused her to feel such powerful affection for the young Queen. Elena had not simply survived what would have been poverty and hardship for any other royal, she had liked it.

Why, she is one of us! Elfriede realised. She is not just a spoiled product of the court. She really is one of us.

"Now, where was I?" Elena was saying. "I explained all this to Anaxagoras and I don't think he understood.

"With just a little more work, this could make the two of you fabulously wealthy. Women could change their hair to black, blond, red or brown whenever they wished, maybe even shades in between or they could have the main body of their hair one colour and the tips another.

"When I told him, he just nodded politely and smiled and then went back to working on something else."

"My Lady," Elfriede said gently. "Anaxagoras understood."

Elena paused, looking at her in surprise. "I don't understand."

"In that way, he'll never be rich. I knew what it would be like when I married him," Elfriede smiled fondly, her eyes looking into the distance. "Perhaps in his own way, he is rich. I swear the man would never eat if I didn't see to it. Give him time alone and a problem and he is rich. I hear you never wanted to return here, my Queen, do you know what I mean now?"

Elena had her mouth open for a moment before she remembered to close it. "I see," she said in a husky voice with her eyes moist. "You're right, your husband is rich."

Elena still intended to raise his salary and insist he hire a maid to help his long-suffering wife, even if she didn't feel she was long-suffering.

* * *

It was just after Cyron had left that Elena and Jacinta were invited to see the results of what Hakeem and Anaxagoras had been working on. They knew they would have to seem duly impressed, no matter what the men had done.

Elena invited Elfriede, but she firmly refused. It was a secret of her successful marriage, she said. She never went into his workshop, except sometimes to remind him to eat.

Anaxagoras and Hakeem had set the apprentices, aided by two blacksmiths, to all sorts of last minute clanging and hammering before the main show started. Elena winced as she entered, her hands over her ears. If dust and noise was all that were needed for success, the results were assured.

Then, bang, bang! Hakeem lit the wicks of two small paper cylinders and threw them into the middle of the courtyard. They made an alarming noise for objects so small. It was obviously the fire powder. Alright, good for scaring horses but wouldn't it scare our horses too?

The bronze cylinder that shot a metal bolt a short distance with a terrible loud noise was mildly impressive but it couldn't replace ballista. Hakeem said they could make it better if they could find a way to improve the power and to prevent the barrels cracking. The noise, fire and smoke might be enough to impress their enemies, but what was the use of something that could blow up in their faces?

The fire-liquid Anaxagoras showed … now that was something else entirely!

It was a dark liquid that could be pumped into a jet, which could be lit. So, it could shoot out a jet of flame, like dragon breath. It could even float on water, for naval use.

It was a terrifying weapon. As soon as she saw it, Elena knew that this secret must be guarded above all else. How it was made, even very existence. Much to the disappointment of Anaxagoras, she stopped him from enthusiastically explaining it to all nearby who would listen.

Anaxagoras said he had some ideas to make it safer but he wouldn't permit anyone else but himself to use it because it was too dangerous. Elena would certainly put a stop to this habit. By royal decree if need be!

Elena realised as she watched, that she was looking at one of the most valuable elves in her kingdom, perhaps even the most valuable elf alive.

No one could completely stop Anaxagoras from trying to blow himself up, but she was certainly going to appoint him some 'minders' from the palace guard. A certain friend of Seléne who was a junior officer but a clever diplomat would be just the one to put in charge.

Anaxagoras would be bothered, but his wife would be overjoyed. Perhaps Elena would enlist Elfriede in explaining to Anaxagoras just exactly how things were going to be from now on.

 

Chapter 33: Jacinta's Clever Parents

Elena was bored and falling asleep. The fat landowner seemed to drone on endlessly.

She had heard that her father was recovering rapidly, which was good news. She longed for his return so she could spend time with her family again.

Her audience room today had only a few nobles assembled to watch her dispense justice. Interest in what she did was waning. It didn't surprise her, nothing she attended to was interesting and nothing she did was particularly exciting. The Prophecy suggested that she was destined to be a great queen, but she knew she was showing no signs of that so far.

Added to this, the court was distinctly unsettled. Many of those chosen by Nikan who were not already in prison felt insecure, and those who suffered under Nikan's court held serious grudges against those who didn't.

Nikan had replaced many who were loyal to Cyron with his own nominees, so Elena had the court stacked against her. Cyron would sort this out when he had returned to health, but in the meantime Elena didn't even know who her enemies were.

At first, Elena was grateful to have Dimitrios, the adviser to Xanthe. He was a mine of information about who was whom and the intricacies of elf politics.

More recently, though, she suspected he was manipulating her.

He packed her day full of trivial matters. She was so exhausted that she had taken to sleeping on a bed just off the audience room. She was getting no exercise. He always found a pressing reason to stretch her day longer. Important promises had been made that couldn't now be cancelled, and new 'emergencies' were coming up every day.

She found that he was making the really important decisions, and he kept information from her. Whatever decision she made, he seemed to find reason why she was wrong on the basis of some supposedly superior knowledge. And now she was almost falling asleep hearing some silly dispute over maybe three score of cattle that had wandered.

Before that, she had to sit through an argument over whether crockery was of sufficient standard for the maker to be paid. All because Dimitrios said one of the parties was an important man.

She was tired and sick of all this.

She had already decided to rein in the process and had been arguing with Dimitrios increasingly in the last few days. She wanted it to be obvious to all that he was at fault, yet she was finding him too subtle so far. The battle of wills had started, and a showdown was brewing.

Her thoughts were brought back to the room by a disturbance near the door. Her heart leapt with joy to see Hakeem and Jacinta outside. She realised with a shock that she hadn't seen them for a couple of weeks. How could so much time pass so quickly?

Suddenly, two guards were thrown roughly aside and others were running up to help.

"Let my husband pass!" Elena shouted indignantly.

She had left orders that her family could get free access to her. Why were the guards trying to stop them? The guards looked to Dimitrios who nodded before they finally stood aside.

"I gave orders that you are not to be disturbed by anyone whom I have not authorised, your majesty," Dimitrios whispered. "You know how busy you are and how tired you are," he added with apparent reasonableness. "All I asked was that my Lord Hakeem make an appointment like everyone else."

"Do you presume to correct my order?" Elena asked coldly.

"Your Highness," whispered Dimitrios urgently. "You don't understand. You are in audience in the Elven Court. You will offend the nobles waiting. You don't want people to think you just let them barge in, do you?"

Elena felt uncertain, the audience was watching her intently.

"My Lady Elena," Hakeem called out as he approached. "For three full days I have sent messages through this buffoon that I need to see you in a matter most urgent.

"There have been promises, but each time I have received a last-minute apology. The guards won't let me pass in many areas of the palace, including seeing you. I am openly insulted, and I have found even the lowest servant has been instructed not to follow my orders. Is this how I am to be treated?"

Elena turned to Dimitrios, furious. "Is this true?"

Dimitrios was unrepentant. The Queen was in a weak position about her treatment of these humans. "Well, he demands your time when you are so busy with your father away. He won't tell me the reason, so I must assume it's not important, mustn't I?"

"Why should I explain myself to a servant?" Hakeem said, disdainfully. "I am treated this way because I'm not an elf. Elena, do you remember what you promised in front of the Gypsies about the treatment of humans? Or is it different now that you are home?"

"I'm sorry. I just haven't time to get to everything," Elena said, feeling distressed and overwhelmed, including the time needed to sort out Dimitrios!

"I'll make it up to both of you, and sort this out, I promise. But you must understand: I've been so busy. I scarcely have had time to think."

"And you let this happen! You let this mongrel keep you too busy with foolish work to do the important work of ruling your kingdom." Hakeem replied loudly.

"How dare you!" Elena felt pierced with shame. Hakeem was right. She was becoming an unpopular and incompetent ruler. It seemed to be happening no matter how hard she tried to please.

"I am the Queen, I will decide how I rule!"

Jacinta looked at the point of tears.

Hakeem smiled bitterly. "At last you see your task! The little time I had to speak to you has been used in waiting. Can you talk to me now?"

"My Lady!" said the fat landowner, the original owner of the cattle. "Doesn't he understand? He spreads the private business of Her Majesty in public view. We have waited for this audience. Do we have to talk in front of this horseman and a Gypsy?"

Dimitrios was talking at the same time. "Madam you cannot! You will be late for your meeting with the Duke as it is."

Oh dear, the Duke! Elena felt swamped with anxiety and guilt. She was giving offence to everyone.

She now had to be in three places at once. "Sorry, Hakeem, I will see you later. That's a promise. Now, let me finish the work I have first, please."

Hakeem nodded coldly. "In the meantime, you must hear about a dozen cattle and a handful of plates. Do you think I don't know? But it's about elves. They are much more important than humans, even family, even if I say it's urgent and no matter what else might be happening.

"Perhaps there will be time for a husband to talk to his wife later. I don't know when that will be." He spun to leave. Jacinta desperately grabbed at him to stop him.

"Hakeem, you can't! It can't happen like this. Not this way. She doesn't know!''

"Jacinta!" Hakeem shouted angrily. "You will obey me! Did you not hear it yourself?

"I said it was most urgent and I have already waited more than I can afford. What answer do I receive? Another vague promise. Even trivial elf affairs are more important than we are. I can wait no longer, I have told her that and we have been asked to leave. Well, let it be so."

Jacinta looked like she had been hit. She cast a devastated look at her mother and then Hakeem forced her to the door.

Elena was thrown into confusion and anguish. She had let this snake contrive grave insult to Hakeem and Jacinta. She couldn't concentrate on this nonsense over cattle.

"Is it true that he has been asking to see me for days and said it was urgent?" Elena demanded. "Is it true that the guards blocked access? Who else have you prevented from seeing me? What else have you kept from me?" she demanded of Dimitrios.

She felt she was waking from a dream.

"My Lady, he doesn't respect your work, can't you see? He refused to tell me what it was about. So it can't be important. These humans forget themselves. He even tried to order me around! As for whom else, there was a ragtag Gypsy. He even claimed he was a king."

Elena had suddenly gone very quiet. Elvish arrogance against humans can be so entrenched that they fail to see it. Completely unaware, it had led Dimitrios into a disastrous miscalculation. Many were secretly observing his game, but none had grasped his peril.

The fat landowner took this opportunity to protest. "My Lady! You allow this Gypsy waif and the barbarian to intrude. I must protest. I'll be glad when they're gone!"

Elena turned horrified to Dimitrios, who appeared almost pleased. "They are leaving? And when were you going to tell me?" Suddenly Jacinta's behaviour was horrifyingly clear.

Dimitrios tried to laugh it off. "My Lady, you seriously don't expect me to keep track of these humans for you, do you?" He gestured to the open door. As he turned back, his eyes widened to find Elena's knife at his throat.

"Guards!" Elena yelled loudly.

The four guards at the door looked startled and then they sprung to obey.

"You two," Elena pointed. "Arrest this man and take him to the dungeon. The charge is treason. I don't care how he is treated," she continued, shouting over Dimitrios' protest. "Just keep him alive and able to answer questions. See that he gets no visitors. After that, get half a dozen men. I expect to be in my main quarters."

A now thoroughly frightened and pale Dimitrios was being manhandled by the guards.

She looked at him coldly. "You have been very clever but you have made a final mistake. You will have enough time to find out just how seriously you have miscalculated."

She turned to the fat landowner, "Were you involved in this?"

He was trembling and shaking his head.

"I will give you the benefit of the doubt, just once. Never cross me again. Do you understand that? Now when are they to leave and why?"

Elena almost fainted ... Today!

It had only become common knowledge, since yesterday but no-one had told her.

The Makedónes had taken Byzántion. They had crossed the straits and would threaten Troia. The whole region was mobilising.

She felt a moment of white-hot rage! And Dimitrios fooled her with wandering cattle. He planned to tell her after Hakeem left. He foolishly thought four guards could prevent Hakeem from walking where he wished.

Who else was involved in these plots against Cyron … and now her? She would preside over his hanging, but time for that later.

She shouted at the remaining elf nobles, who looked chastened and quickly disappeared. The Queen had awoken! And she was one to be reckoned with!

Elena couldn't breathe from mounting panic. Had they already left? She couldn't see through her tears. "Find them and tell them to wait till I talk to them," she cried, but it was her guards who could scarcely keep up with her as she ran to her quarters.

* * *

Hakeem's anger was gone. The horses were saddled and the escort was ready. The need was most urgent but Hakeem hadn't left. He was sitting on his couch receiving a decidedly thorough dressing down from his young daughter.

"So, you are going to part in this fashion!" she said angrily, pacing back and forward in front of him.

"Jacinta be reasonable! I am beside myself. I have received an urgent summons. Troia and Aiolía are in great danger. The Macedonians have landed 10,000 infantry and 3,000 of their own horse. They can bring five times that number from Makedonía alone, more if they wished to issue a call on the Hellas.

"You know how impossible the Makedónes have proven to beat, and how cleverly they are led. Then there is the Athēnai to think about.

"I have called a muster of the all tribesmen that can be mobilised at short notice. I don't even know how I will pay them and supply them, but even then I don't think it will be enough. I really think we will lose this one.

"My delay here has only been useless torture for me. I cannot put my personal problems before duty even a moment longer." He stood up resolutely.

"My King is in desperate need and I must leave."

As he said this, Elena rushed in and threw herself at Hakeem's feet "No! You can't be going! Hakeem, I'm sorry, I was a fool." Tears were running down her cheeks, as she clutched at his ankles.

Hakeem stood impassively. "My Lady, there is no choice. I have delayed my departure beyond what is wise, to the very point of breaking my vows, just so I could speak to you. What time we could have had is now spent in whatever way you have chosen. You always knew that your time with Jacinta and me was limited.

"I've hardly seen you in the last moon. I am insulted, no human is allowed to talk to you because you are the Elf Queen, even when my King Helios rides to war, even for me to say goodbye. I, at least, never forget who my friends are, no matter what way the wind blows."

Elena felt as if he had slapped her with the last remark. She looked up in a haze of tears. "Can't you at least stay tonight?" she pleaded.

"I'm sure you can see that I cannot." Hakeem sounded so hard and so cold.

Well, Elena knew she deserved it!

"I'll come with you!" she said desperately.

"Elena you cannot. You are the Queen of the Elves; you have a kingdom to look after. This battle will be a desperate one, but it is one for humans, not elves. Your father is old and not yet strong, your place is here amongst the elves. Our time of travelling together, I will always cherish deep in my heart, but that time is over."

"But you'll come back, won't you?" Elena pleaded through her tears. "I'll see you again, won't I?"

"Lady, I will try. The odds are heavy. Assuming we win, assuming I don't fall." He melted a little, pulling her up and gently hugging her. "I'm sorry to distress you, Elena. But in truth, I can wait no longer."

Elena pushed herself back and forced herself to stand.

She was the Queen. She gathered her dignity with an effort.

"I see. You are bitter and you have a right to be. I am seriously at fault and now it is too late. Excuse me a few moments, I wish to get ready. I will fare you well. It's the least I can do, as I may not see you again. I apologise for my distress.

"Please don't leave till I can be there."

Hakeem's heart ached to see her so. "Elena, I'm not angry. I tried. I love you, but it is just how it must be."

At that, Elena fled.

It would have been easier if he hadn't said he loved her.

As she went, Jacinta slammed the door. "Did you have to do that? Elena made a mistake. Must you break her heart in revenge?"

"Jacinta," Hakeem said wearily sitting down on his couch. "I have no choice. These elves have driven me mad. I cannot do more. Now, I will have to gallop most of the way, only stopping for a change of horses. I have to leave now. I didn't want it to be this way, but it is.

"I am not angry, I am sad. It was something Elena herself allowed to happen. It is her karma. I just pray she learns from this."

"Oh, so you say you're not angry! You can't see it, but you are so angry!" Jacinta replied, glaring at her father. "Search your heart for your feelings towards Elena and you will find them cold. You have been hurt. A cold hard wall has come between yourself and your feelings."

She turned and stormed out.

Hakeem plonked down on his couch and took his head in his hands. He looked deep inside himself. He didn't feel anger at Elena. She was simply facing the consequences of the elvish disregard for humans. She became the Queen and then immediately became caught up in elvish concerns, giving no thought to her human friends. He hoped she learned from this or the love they had was finished.

Yes, it seemed like logic, but it was an unusually hard and cold. He had every right to be angry, but it was his anger that was so hard and cold, not his logic.

He thought of a wall inside himself and how it was so familiar and what it had cost.

Then he thought of Elena, of all she had been through, and the reason she had fallen into this trap. When he thought of the love they had shared and what it would do to her if he left like this, his heart ached for her.

Curse these difficult elves! He thought angrily, not for the first time. He got up and told the six men who would escort Jacinta and himself that he was not leaving yet. He would stay the night.

At the same time Hakeem was doing this, Jacinta was giving her elvish mother a piece of her mind. Elena was reminded by the furious Gypsy girl what her task was, and she was given a scorecard of her dreadful failures.

Elena agreed she bowed her head, deeply miserable; her role was to change thousands of years of elvish prejudice.

Not so simple a task, Jacinta admitted. And what happened? She wanted to please everyone. She thought she was winning people over so they would come around to her view later. In fact, she was only making a fool of herself. Sensing it was not going well, she lost her courage and began to fear everyone's bad opinion.

After Hector and Seléne left, Jacinta and Hakeem had been treated with contempt by their enemies. Hakeem didn't want to resort to violence, and Elena wasn't there to support him.

"I made a real mess of being Queen, didn't I? I lost my courage and stopped standing up to people. Well, unfortunately Dimitrios and others will pay the price of my failure. It's as much my fault for letting him get away with it. If I had been stronger, he never would have tried."

She sighed as she reflected back on her behaviour. " I am a poor learner. I have fallen for the same trick twice. Someone pretends to be my friend and I become a fool. Maybe Xanthe even trained him. I've let that wonderful man down and now he hates me!"

"No he doesn't, leave Hakeem to me, "Jacinta said grimly.

Just then Hakeem was at the door. Tears were welling in his eyes as he walked stiffly into the room, his arms hesitantly stretched out to her. "Elena! Jacinta, forgive me. I almost let an awful thing happen. I can stay till the morning. It's the least I can do, but it's all I can do. I love you too much to let us part with such an argument."

Soon the three of them were crying in each other's arms.

Jacinta, you're a wonder, Elena thought with fierce love for her daughter.

No sooner had Jacinta said she would deal with Hakeem, than it was done!

Hakeem looked over at Jacinta with a broad smile. "Jacinta, if I ever give you a direct order, what must you do?"

"Ignore it," Jacinta laughed, "I hadn't forgotten."

She felt happy again for the first time in many weeks. As they were talking quietly to one another, they heard yelling and the clatter of horse's hooves. The Elvish King and his party had returned and they were in desperate haste!

Cyron was near collapse when he arrived, so Seléne stayed with him. Hector had urgent things that required immediate attention, so they would all meet as soon as the King had rested.

It was just over two turns of the glass when they were summoned to an audience. Cyron looked almost normal again. Seléne and Hector were hovered protectively on either side. Hakeem, Elena and Jacinta crowded in together, pleased to see Cyron but anxious to see what had brought him back with such haste.

"I'm not as recovered as I thought, it seems." Cyron admitted breathlessly, with a rueful smile. "A fast ride back here almost finished me."

"We told you to take the carriage," Seléne said tartly, sniffing a little. "And perhaps acting more your age wouldn't hurt either!"

Elena and her uncle Hector traded a meaningful look. Her father wouldn't have been the easiest of patients.

"And what were you three looking so pleased about?" Cyron asked, changing the topic. "Oh yes: Dimitrios. I just heard. That was very well done, and it flushed out his supporters too!

"I knew others were involved in Nikan's plot. Dimitrios was an obvious suspect, as I'm sure you both realised from the very first. I had to keep him at the court rather than send him away, in the hope we could find evidence against him.

"We were kept informed about what was happening. When he started to plot against you and Hakeem, I thought to warn you, but then I decided to see how you would handle him.

"You had to make people think he had you fooled, until all could see what he was doing. You did it perfectly! Then just when he seemed about to win, you sprung your trap dramatically in front of an audience. Many here won't realise you were acting a part. I'm so proud of both of you.

"Apparently, he has been very cooperative. You really must have scared him, Elena. Don't worry about the Gypsy King. He and some of his family were my guests for a few days, and I explained to them all that has been happening. I would hardly forget what the Gypsies did, would I? Old Djordji tries to pretend he is a complete rogue of course, but he's a delightful fellow.

"It must have been hard for Hakeem! To be insulted so. But he never once lost his temper, I'm really impressed."

Jacinta called King Cyron 'grandfather', at his insistence. "Grandfather," she said, smiling ever so sweetly at her two parents. "What has happened here has convinced me just how clever my two parents can be. I will certainly watch them more closely in the future. But you couldn't possibly think Elena and Hakeem would be silly enough to let something like this come between them, could you?"

No, no! Of course not! Hakeem and Elena looked at each other sheepishly.

"I'm so glad to catch Hakeem here," the King continued. "I was afraid you might have left.

"Elena, do you plan to travel with Hakeem and Jacinta, or will you come with the rest of the army?"

The three looked back at him in amazement. Army? From Elgard?

"Well," Hakeem took a deep breath "I delayed, hoping Elena could come."

What had he told Jacinta about lying?

"Of course," said the King. "I'm surprised and pleased you waited for me. In your place, I would have been tempted to take to horse immediately. I must say, you are a cool one.

"The delay lets us plan. I'm sure you understand why I can only give you two and a half thousand elvish bowmen, under Hector, but they are all veterans. I should be able to assist with supplies, and I will send advisors and craftsmen to help with fortifications. I hope we don't need them too soon."

Hakeem beamed! Cyron was taking it for granted that the elves would be joining this fight. He made a mental note to take back all he had been thinking about ungrateful elves. He had been talking to the wrong elves.

Two and a half thousand veteran elven bowmen … and he said only! Two and a half thousand ... Hakeem thought he must be dreaming. The Macedonian Hoplitai were in for a great surprise.

"We need to fix your role with the elvish forces here, Hakeem" Cyron said, continuing.

"I have talked to Hector, and we have decided to appoint you as our warlord. The elves will report to Hector, but technically you will be second only to me." Cyron indicated his half-brother and Hector nodded, grinning broadly.

Hakeem was stunned. It would be an honorary title obviously, but what an honour! This would stop anyone giving Hakeem the type of problems he had just experienced.

Cyron had resumed talking. "Now, it's really good that you caught Dimitrios. This goes back to the attacks on Elena and me. It's obvious now who was helping him."

Cyron saw their completely blank expressions.

"The Hun of course!" he added as if it were completely obvious.

Jacinta and Hakeem almost interjected, "Who?" Elena and Hakeem and Jacinta exchanged confused glances. What Hun?

But Cyron only nodded to himself, as he continued. "That's why we can't send more help and that's why you have to get Karsh ready for a possible attack. They have moved into central Asia, the lands of the Aryans, and they are moving through that powerful and wealthy Oasis region in a way that I find frankly terrifying.

"They have crushed the main army of Sogdianē already. Or did Dimitrios manage to keep this from you too?"

"Grandfather," Jacinta interrupted, giving Cyron a respectful bow. "I can see from my parents' expressions that this is news to them, as it is to me. I know little of Sogdianē and thought it was a long way from here. Would it be possible for you to instruct me on the Hun and Sogdianē?" she asked politely.

Cyron nodded and smiled bleakly. "That's a good idea. I don't think Seléne has heard the full story either, though she knows part of it.

"It's a long and grim tale. We will eat first. I need some music and light talk before we discuss something like that. I suspect we will be hearing more than we ever want to about the Athēnai, the Makedónes, and the Hun in the future. They can certainly wait till we have eaten."

Hakeem didn't know much about the Hun but Cyron would say no more for fear of upsetting his family's appetite.

That didn't seem a good sign.

* * *

They had lain on couches in the Greek style, to eat, with a musician playing the beautiful elf-harp softly in the background. Cyron preferred chairs for serious business, so he had led them to one of his favourite sitting rooms after they had eaten.

The room was surprisingly small and modest for the Great King of the Western elves. The floor had a beautiful Mosaic of a hunting scene and on the roof was a scene from the sack of Elvish Troia.

Out of consideration, Cyron insisted Hakeem and Jacinta sit closest to the fire. The elves, didn't feel the cold nearly as much as humans. It was towards the end of winter but still decidedly chilly in Elgard.

The walnut chairs with their embroidered black silk cushions were even more comfortable than they looked. Between them was a low cedar table, oiled to a deep colour and with a picture of a great dragon carved into it, outlined in black.

Most of all, Jacinta could hardly take her eyes off the life-sized statue of an elf maiden. She was desperately straining forward with a look of pure anguish on her face being held back by two faceless soldiers. It was a copy of a favourite elf statue, 'Hélène's Agony'. The Greek soldiers had been holding her back as they murdered her two young children.

How would it have been, so long ago, for the elf princess, when all that she loved was destroyed and something as wondrous and beautiful as Elvish Troia would be no more? With difficulty, she brought her attention back to Cyron, who was beginning his explanation.

"Jacinta, I will first explain how barbarians can have such power that they can destroy great civilisations." Cyron started. When Cyron was in the mood, he was an excellent teacher. "Civilisation starts with farmers producing more food than they need, a stable crop like wheat or rice that can be produced in great quantities and stored. Then you need trade between the countryside and cities and towns."

Jacinta nodded, it was simplified, but it made sense. Civilisation enabled people to specialise. A city with surrounding farms is more efficient, so the population can be many times greater and wealthier than a group of hunter-gatherers on the same land.

But a city needs trade and a source of food to live. It was the dilemma the Athēnai now faced.

Athēnai is the greatest city in the Western world but much of the local land is poor and limited, so they need to import most of their food.

If Philippos took Troia, he could cut them off from the Black Sea grain and they would be forever at his mercy.

Cyron was continuing, "Now I must explain about the barbarians.

"There are some lands where life is particularly harsh and difficult. There, only the toughest men and animals can survive. We call the men barbarians. Only two regions of our world have barbarians in large enough numbers to trouble civilisation.

"The first region is the land of frost and snow. Most of this is too dry and sparsely settled to be a threat, but in the northwest of our world there is a region where the sea brings warm currents from the south, making the climate kinder. They keep animals, they fish, they trade, and of course they raid their neighbours. But even these people, the 'Norrœnir' (Norse) as they call themselves, don't have the numbers to cause the scale of catastrophe that devastated this world a millennium ago.

"The main, but not the only barbarians, behind that devastation came from the Great Steppe, a huge region of dry grasslands. It is unimaginably vast, lying in a wide band starting north and a little west of the Hellas and reaching to the northern part of the lands of the Chin."

"Stretching three quarters of the known world!" Jacinta murmured. It was huge!

Cyron nodded. "It is the land of the great horse nomads. They live mainly on meat and milk. The men there , and some of their women, are large and tough, and very savage in war. We believe the Aryans came from the Volga River region and the Steppe to the east of that.

"They became clever herders and horsemen and began to spread east a thousand years ago. They invented new ways of fighting, new bows and faster chariots with spoked wheels. They bred bigger and stronger horses to pull them.

"No one could stand against them, and they began conquering those around them, including the wealthy oasis regions of middle Asia, what we now call Sogdianē, Bactria and Xvairizem. They have held that area ever since.

"The climate has cycles, both great and small, and at first there was a long period when that climate was kind. The Aryans could graze bigger herds and could live in lands that previously could only support few people, and so they became very numerous.

"Then there came a drought like no other.

"Deprived of their grazing lands, the nomads began to raid farms and trade caravans, so trade stopped and starvation stalked their own cities. The starving people of all these lands began to move in great numbers. Any in their path had to join them or perish. Finally, there were a whole people on the move, in wave after wave, in numbers too vast to count, with weapons and techniques beyond all others of the time."

"The Aryan hordes," Elena said softly.

Cyron nodded, "It wasn’t just Aryans alone, but this was the time of the famous Aryan hordes. They spread like a grass fire, destroying all in their path."

"It was the end of the Western Elves," Jacinta added.

Cyron nodded. "Not just the Western Elves. The light of civilisation was extinguished throughout the world. Much that was great and fair was no more. Mighty cities, kingdoms and empires, some of which had stood for thousands of years, lay in ruins. Stores of knowledge were lost forever.

"A great famine followed."

Jacinta nodded. Without the organisation made possible by civilisation, the land could only support only a small fraction of what it could before.

"Pockets of civilisation remained, but only few. There was a long time of darkness before the survivors started to build again."

"The Bronze Age Collapse and following that, the Great Dark Age," Elena said, wondering what this would mean for them.

Cyron looked at his daughter. "That's what the Greek scholars call it now?" he smiled, amused.

"The Aryans did not disappear. They remained as the great nomadic horsemen who live across the vast grasslands of the Great Steppe. And now there are many civilised Aryans, along the Volga and similar rivers, the Black Sea coast, Northern India, Central Asia (Sogdianē, Bactria, and Xvairizem) and the Great Empire of Persia. Being a Gypsy, Jacinta, you are part Aryan.

"The Aryans have dominated the East and the Steppe for the last thousand years." Hector spoke softly. "Until now."

Everyone felt a chill at these words.

Cyron nodded grimly. "Long ago, the Aryans had crossed the Tiān Shān Mountains into the region near Cīna. For almost a thousand years, they were the greatest of the barbarians of the grasslands to the north and west of the Chin. They merged with the Yuezhi (Yu-chi), the other fair race in this region. The Yuezhi, held the rich trade city of Kashgar in the west and the other wealthy oasis cities of the Taklimakan desert.

"It was to the north of their that they first met a new and even more dangerous barbarian."

"The Hun," Jacinta said, her voice hushed. "Grandfather, I don't know those places. They seem so far away."

"It is half a world away," Cyron said softly. "But not far enough, I’m afraid.

"The Chinese call them 'zhu' or 'Xiōngnú'. Greeks call them 'Turks' and we call them 'Hun', which means 'people' in their language.

"They are like the Shantawi, in some ways at least. The Shantawi are a grimmer people in war, better trained and equipped but the Shantawi will never be a great people. They don't have the area and they don't have the numbers."

Hakeem's eyes glinted in the firelight. "And we met the elves," he smiled. "We are not sorry. I am not sorry."

He took Elena's hand. Meanwhile Cyron reached for a papyrus map from under his chair and unrolled it on the table, holding it open with exquisitely moulded lead weights.

"The Hun have become a great people," he continued and pointed to the map.

"They have seized the Tarim region from the Yuezhi and have taken all that part of the great Steppe near the land of the Chin.

"The Chin tried building walls and fortifications against them but it did them no good. The Hun have conquered a great deal of their land and built a great empire. They are wealthy and numerous, and have learned many of the secrets of the Chin who are known to be a clever race.

"For reasons we don't know, they suddenly stopped their conquest of the Chin, and offered treaties and demanded tribute instead. For two years, we heard nothing, and then a huge army suddenly appeared near the wealthy kingdom of Sogdianē. They have defeated the army sent against them and they will threaten Samarkand if no one comes to its aide.

"If they can conquer the rich lands of Sogdianē and then Bactria, they can move on the greatest of these Oasis lands, Xvairizem. "

Jacinta and Hakeem craned forward as Cyron pointed to each place.

"Then they will control all the steppe and oases east of the Volga and the Caspian Sea," Cyron made a sweeping gesture. "If they cross the Volga and they are already strong enough to do so, there will be nothing left between them and us apart from some Scythian horse nomads. Or they could turn south and come up against the Parsua (Persians)." Cyron pointed and then lay back resting.

"And now," Hector said, "After a long period of plenty, a time of great hardship has come again to the Steppes and the arid lands."

"It is happening again!" Seléne said in horror.

Hector stretched across and took her hand in both of his.

"Yes, it begins again." Hakeem agreed grimly as he traced the line the Turks must have followed to cross the mountains.

"They are still far away, but for reasons we don't know, they plan to come here," Hector added, almost in a whisper. "We know this because they paid for the attempts on the life of Elena and they helped Nikan. There is no doubt, they are the great tide that the Prophecy warns of.

"It's not that bad, yet!" he said, seeing their expressions. "We have time to deal with the Makedónes before any Hun come knocking on our door. Then we will be glad to have the union of Human-kind and Elfkin!"

Hakeem had lost his smile. He felt he could hardly breathe. "How many … how many are there?"

Hector's face was unreadable. He already knew. The women looked badly frightened. Hector kissed Seléne's hand.

"Too many to count, I'm afraid." Cyron leaned forward. "Not as many as the Aryans were, but more than enough for us here. Elves were far stronger back then.". " I think they might have as many as four armies of fifty thousand warriors each and still be able to cover their strong points. Two of these are already in Sogdianē, but they pick up more fighters as they go. If you're scared of 13,000 Makedónes, this will make all that has ever threatened our peoples in the last thousand years seem like practice."

Two hundred thousand and growing! Who can fight such odds? It wasn't an army. It was an elemental force of nature. Hakeem thought back to his youth and living through a locust plague. They devoured all that stood in their path and nothing could be done.

"And," Cyron added looking into the far distance, "they build siege weapons, good ones."

So, not even the best fortress could hold out against them. They had easily swept aside the strong and populous Chin and then destroyed one of the mightiest armies in Central Asia.

Hakeem wasn't sure they could stop the Makedónes, but this? He clutched at the hands of the Jacinta and Elena and held them fiercely. Would this be the fall of the remaining elves and all that stood with them?

And so, my God, this is the task you give me! It cannot be done!

But I am asked. So, we will see, Hakeem continued thinking grimly. We will see.

 

The Defence of Troia

Book 2

The Paladin Chronicles

2^nd Ed

Neil Port

 

Copyright © Neil Port, 2022

all rights reserved

1^st Ed. Copyright 2012

Introduction

The Makedóne army under Parmenion has crossed the Bósporos was carving its way through the Greek Maritime cities of Bithynia with ridiculous ease. The Greek city of Troia is now an ally of Aiolía but has been seriously weakened after losing the last war. Of the cities of Anatolē that line the entrance to the Black Sea, it is the great prize and now it stands in desperate peril.

Philippos the Makedóne King plans to increase his army in Anatolē several fold and, when he does, he will surely overwhelm all possible resistance. The Athēnai navy is likely to attack even before that.

Hakeem, his wife (the Elf Queen Elena), and their adopted daughter Jacinta ride in haste to join the city as it prepares for a siege.