Chapter Two

	The town of Mulberry was indeed quite small, but there were many towns of this 
size and smaller scattered throughout the countryside.  In fact, it was a village much like 
this one where Bellandra had grown up.  This didn’t bring her much ease, however.  It 
was towns such as this that tended to draw a criminal element, as the people often could 
not afford the protection a militia would give.  It was equally often, however, that the 
people themselves served as the militia, keeping out wolves and roving bands of 
barbarians.  Verund, her hometown, had been like that.  As she reached the edge of 
Mulberry, she could see it was much the same.  A young man stood atop a crow’s nest at 
the edge of town, obviously on the lookout for the unsavory.  The road was nothing more 
than a wide dirt path, lacking the popular cobblestones of the larger cities.  On either side 
of the road were various shops, with a tavern or two as well.  Many of these places of 
business also served as homes for the owners.  The town itself had few houses, as most of 
the people in the community were farmers and lived beyond the surrounding hills and 
interspersed among the trees.  It was near the center of town that she found what she had 
been seeking.  A small inn stood there, with a livery in back.  A dirty, mussed up boy 
leaned against a wooden post which stood near the path that led to the stable.  Bellandra 
led the horse to him, and brought it to a halt.
	“Stable yer horse, ma’am?” the boy said.
	Bellandra dismounted and led the beast to the stable hand.  Giving him the reigns, 
and a gold crown, she said, “There you go.”
	Excitedly, the boy took the reigns.  “Thanks, ma’am,” he said.  “I’ll take real good 
care of ‘im!”  The boy hadn’t seen a gold piece in a while, and had grown accustomed to 
receiving a copper piece or two.  Very rarely would he even get a silver piece, let alone 
gold!  It was the only denomination that Bellandra possessed, and she didn’t mind being a 
little generous.  After all, it wasn’t her money.  She gathered her things from the 
saddlebags and nodded to the boy.  At that, he took the horse to the back, and Bellandra 
walked to the front.  As she neared the door, she could smell something wonderful 
cooking inside.  It was then that she realized that she hadn’t eaten all day, and the pangs 
of hunger suddenly overtook her.  A small tavern made up about a quarter of the bottom 
floor.  There were three floors in all, and the building itself was quite large.  Many 
travelers had come through here, as it was along a trade route of mediocre usage.  Quite a 
number of people occupied the tavern at this time, some just having come off the road 
like her, while others lived in the town a sought to unwind after a hard day.  For the most 
part, Bellandra ignored them, instead heading straight for the innkeeper, who sat behind 
the bar.  He was a short, pudgy man.  He wore a soiled shirt and apron, and his hand 
rested upon a small towel on the bar.  He was greasy and sweaty, and had thinning brown 
hair.
	“What can I do for you?” he said.
	“Three things,” replied Bellandra.  “A room,” she said, laying a gold piece on the 
bar.  “A bath,” she added, also adding a gold piece.  “And a meal,” she finished, laying 
out a third gold piece.  The man’s eyes grew wide as she laid the gold on the counter.  A 
single gold was far more than he charged for all three of those things combined, but he 
took them guiltlessly.  He could always use the money.

“Please have a seat somewhere, ma’am,” he said.  “I’ll take care of everything.”
	“Be quick about the meal,” Bellandra added.  “I’m starving.”
	“As you wish, ma’am,” said the man, retreating to the kitchen.
	Bellandra took a seat at a table nearby, and finally began to absorb her 
surroundings.  At the far end of the tavern, a group of burly men tested their skill at a 
game of darts while the women around them watched, cheering and swooning for their 
favorites.  Not far from them, two men sat quietly at a table together.  One of them 
seemed to be a strong man, tall and slender, with a sword strapped to his side.  The other 
was a strikingly handsome individual, blonde-haired and petit of build.  His skin was fair, 
his face slim, and he possessed two long, pointed ears which stuck out from his hair.  He 
was an elf.  Bellandra herself had some elven blood in her, he mother being half-elven.  
She had inherited from this lineage the features of fair skin and small build, but not their 
ears.  Seeing this man reminded her of her grandfather, who still looked young despite his 
age of 600 years.  As she gazed at him, she noticed it was being returned and quickly 
looked away.  It was too late, as the man stood from his seat and began walking to her.  
She nervously drummed her fingers on the table, attempting to devise some way to avoid 
talking to him.  Too late again, as he was already at her table.
	“My name is Duncan Hyllenith,” the elf said.  “Mind if I sit here?”
	“Not really,” she replied.
	“And your name is?” said the man.
	She leaned back slightly in her chair, crossed her arms, and said, “None of your 
business.”
	“Ooh,” Duncan said.  “You know, I might not be as high-spirited as you if I were 
covered in dirt.”
	Bellandra was embarrassed now, and couldn’t think of a good way to come back 
from such a comment.  Instead she glared at him and fumed.
	“Come now,” he said.  “You don’t want to be mad at me.  I’m trying to be your 
friend here.”  Just then, a dark-haired waitress of average build and small stature arrived 
at the table.
	“Hello, ma’am,” said the waitress.  “I’ve been sent to take your order.”
	“Oh, thank the gods,” Bellandra responded.  “I need something with substance.  A 
small steak, perhaps, and potatoes.  Some bread and a glass of ale would be nice.”
	“Right away, ma’am,” the waitress said as she turned to leave.  Duncan reached 
out and grabbed her wrist.
	“Oh, waitress,” he said.  “Would it be possible for my food to be delivered to this 
table?  Oh, and my associate’s as well.”  Duncan gestured to the other man, who rose and 
began walking toward the table.
	“Whatever,” said the waitress, tossing her head as she walked away.  Duncan 
merely smirked.  Meanwhile, the other man had arrived at the table.  He brought his hand 
sharply to his chest and bowed slightly.  Bellandra liked this.  A man who knows how to 
show respect, she thought.
	“A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss...” the second man prompted.
	“Bellandra Marcesi,” she said, by this time completely ignoring Duncan.  The 
man took a seat at the table.
	“Bellandra, is it?”  Duncan said, snapping Bellandra’s attention from the other 
man.  “Pleased to meet you.  By the way, my friend here is Jondel Remenach.”
	“You look as though you’ve had a rough day,” Jondel said, inspecting Bellandra’s 
current state.  She was indeed quite disheveled.  Still, she looked better than a lot of the 
women in this particular town.
	“I ran into a bad element up north,” she said, focusing again on Jondel.
	“There’s a lot of that going around,” remarked the man.  “What were you doing 
there, anyway.”
	“Scouting,” she said.  “There’d been rumors in my village that the Tarinians were 
preparing to make a move on our lands.  Unfortunately I was captured before I could 
discover what they were doing.”
	“And you escaped?”  Duncan said, with a hint of disbelief.
	“Yes,” she replied.  “With some help from an apparent defector.”
	“Amazing!”  Duncan said, still not believing her completely.
	“Who was this defector?” asked Jondel.
	“He said his name was Jael Ahariah,” she answered.  Both men fell silent.  Their 
faces lost expression and grew pale, their mouths open slightly.  “What’s wrong?”
	“Jael...” Jondel began.
	“Ahariah?”  Duncan finished, both turning their heads to one another, then back 
to Bellandra.  “Are you sure?”  Duncan continued.  “I mean, you don’t know where he is 
now, do you?”
	“I don’t know how much of this I should be telling you two,” she said.  “What if 
you’re spies?”
	“We are spies, sort of,” Duncan said.  “But against Tarinia.”
	“Jael might have information that would be useful,” said Jondel, putting the tips 
of his fingers together such that each one touched its counterpart on the other hand.  “We 
know they’ve been building up to something, an offensive of some kind, but we have no 
idea where.  He might have the answer to this puzzle.”
	“But who is he?” inquired Bellandra.
	“Lord Jael Ahariah,” said Duncan.  “Commanding General of the Firebrand 
Division, the regiment in command of the southern flank.  He’s one of King Lucien 
Drake’s favored men.”
	“Or at least, he was,” Jondel finished.
	“Enough talk,” Duncan said.  “You’ll bore this poor lady to death.  Besides, we 
have business to attend to.”
	“Right,” said Jondel.  “Farewell, milady.”
	“Wait,” she said.  “I’d like to talk some more, if it’s alright.”  The two men settled 
back into their seats.
	“Well,” uttered Duncan, mockingly searching his thoughts, “I suppose our 
business can wait.”
	“What is it you want to discuss?”  Jondel posed.
	“I want to share some information with you,” she said.
	Duncan yawned.  “Okay, if you must tell, what kind of information do you have 
for us?”
	Bellandra glared again at Duncan, who grinned broadly.  She turned to Jondel and 
spoke.  “In my scouting, I noticed a large build up of Tarinian foot soldiers in the north.  I 
took note of this because it was near my home.  I didn’t believe they could be up to 
anything, as we have no quarrel with them.  I guess I had them figured wrong.”
	“Yes,” Jondel said.  “You could say that.  But back to the troops.  We’ve been 
monitoring their movements, and they’re quite bizarre.  First, they developed here, and 
appeared as though they were going to strike, then they suddenly went north, and built up 
there.  It wasn’t long before they broke up again and headed east, toward the Dead 
Wastes, and now they’ve moved south again.”
	“So the main force is in the area?”  Bellandra asked.
	“It would seem so,” Jondel replied.  “If you can figure out what they’re doing, 
you’re a wiser person than I.  However, with the insight that Jael could provide, perhaps 
the mystery will be solved.”
	“He’ll be back in the morning,” Bellandra said.
	“What did you say?” asked Duncan.
	“He’s coming back for me, he said.  In the morning.”
	“Well, that’s convenient,” Duncan replied.  “It just so happens that we’ll be 
staying overnight.”
	“Do you think you could arrange for us to meet him?” queried Jondel.
	“I suppose,” Bellandra said, “if you meet me here in the morning.”
	“Good enough,” Jondel said.
	“I wonder,” said Duncan, thoughtfully.
	“What?” asked Bellandra.
	“Do you think they’ll feed us anytime tonight?”

*    *    *

	Outside, far from the dim lights of the village, Jael stood.  As he looked down on 
the darkening stores and houses, his mind filled with images of Bellandra, fears for her 
safety, and concerns for his own future.  He sat down upon one of the large, cold stones 
that crowned the hilltop.  He would not be able to eat tonight, as there were few animals 
about, and none suitable for eating.  Soon the town was completely dark.  When the last 
visible light was extinguished, Jael moved forward.  He made his way through the trees 
that lay at the side of the dirt road.  Soon he could see the guard in the crow’s nest, high 
above, still scanning the area.  Jael had not been detected.  He quickly slipped into the 
town and made his way through the darkened alleyways.  He’d been through this town 
before, and knew, for the most part, where everything was.  It was the clothier he sought.  
He knew of a way to get in that would not disturb the sleeping owner.  The place had an 
old cellar which was no longer in use by the tailor, but which had a forgotten opening 
which led into the store.  He crept to the back and opened the heavy cellar doors, being 
careful not to make a sound.  Quietly he sneaked down the old wooden stairs.  All around 
him were old fixtures, which the tailor no longer had a use for.  He quickly found the 
hatch that opened into the shop area, and pushed it upward.  A rug lay on top of it, which 
he easily slipped aside.  Once inside the store, he gathered a mediocre white shirt, some 
brown leather pants, black boots, and a wide, black leather belt.  He left money on the 
counter and a note for the tailor, describing what he took.  As he was about to leave, he 
spied a beautiful blue cloak of the finest velvet.  It was a woman’s cloak, with white fur 
trim around the edges and around the hood.  He could imagine Bellandra wearing such a 
cloak, and quickly took up the pen again...
*    *    *
	It was late when she got to her room.  She had told the innkeeper a few minutes 
before that she would be heading up.  When she opened the door, she was taken aback by 
the size of the room.  It was quite spacious, so much so that she didn’t quite believe that a 
room this size could fit in this building with all the others.  It stepped down about 
midway, and partition separated the room.  On one side was the bed, a large, canopied 
four-poster with thick, finely made quilts.  The other side was for the bath.  She could see 
a screen at the side, which could be spread open to obscure the tub itself from the door.  
Steam rose from the water in the fine, claw-foot bath, and a pedestal held a small stack of 
towels and a small slab of soap.  It seemed to call to her as she turned and locked the 
door.  She stepped across the room and to the bath side of it, kicking off her boots along 
the way.  Standing near the bath, she grabbed the screen and unfolded it completely.  It 
was a plain white one, with no fancy design as many bore.  It didn’t matter to her, though.  
She was glad to have hot water to in which to bathe.  Quickly she stripped off the rest of 
her clothes and slowly lowered herself into the hot, soothing water.  She could feel every 
muscle in her body relax.  She was immersed up to her shoulders, and her hair was 
partially submerged behind her.  Purest luxury, she thought.  She sat for the longest time 
just soaking.  She tried to remember the last time she had a real bath.  It was weeks ago, 
when she was still at home with her mother.  She would have to go out and fetch the 
water, heating it in small tubs upon their great iron stove.  She would take the tubs and 
dump the near boiling water into the large metal bathing tub.  It took several trips to fill 
it, which is why she made sure the water was so hot.  Even with the time it took to fill the 
bath, the water would still be too hot to get into right away.  She used this time to gather 
other things she would need, and not just towels and soap, but she would also bring a 
book with her to read as she soaked.  These books had been printed using the new presses 
that had just recently been given to the world by the grace of the gods, and it was these 
presses that made books so much easier to come by.  All of them were religious, 
historical, or philosophical texts, but she didn’t mind.  She loved to read, and she loved it 
especially when she could do it while soaking in the wonderfully hot water.  She wished 
so much that she had one of those books with her now.  Her mind snapped back to the 
present, where she sat, soaking.  She let her head slip below the water.  Instantly she 
could feel her hair free itself from itself and float away from her neck.  As she raised her 
head up from the water, her hair clung back to her, but it was mostly free of dirt now.  
She decided to wash herself quickly and give herself more time to sit in the water 
carefree.  She stood and rubbed the soap all over her body, freeing it of the dirt and sweat 
that seemed as though it had become a part of her.  She sat back in the water and rubbed 
some soap on her face, then rinsed it away with a few splashes of water.  Finally, she was 
clean.  After all those days on the road, covered in dust, she was clean and felt human 
again.  She remained in the water until it began to grow cool and her fingers began to 
resemble dried plums.  Reluctantly, she stepped out and toweled herself off.  She left the 
towel on her hair and put on robe that had been hung on a hook on the wall.  Being 
somewhat clothed now, she closed the screen again and went to the other side of the 
partition.  On this side was not just the bed, but also a vanity with a large mirror and a set 
of brushes.  She must be in heaven, she thought.  Quickly, she removed the towel from 
her head and dropped it to the floor.  She sat in a chair in front of the vanity and brushed 
her hair, pulling straight again all the knots and tangles.  She did it the proper way, the 
way her mother had taught her, taking the ends of a handful of hair, holding it out, and 
brushing through it, fifty strokes for each bunch.  It was time consuming, but it worked 
very well.  By the time she was finished, though, she was extremely tired.  The long, 
adventure-filled day had taken a lot out of her, and she needed to rest.  She stood from the 
chair and turned to the bed.  She pulled back the heavy quilts and untied the belt to her 
robe.  The robe had dropped just to her waist and elbows, and she was about to let it slip 
off completely when she heard a knock at the door.  Her heart pounded rapidly as she 
pulled her robe back up to her shoulders and cinched the belt tight again.  The sudden 
noise had startled her, but now she felt frustration.  She desperately wanted to ignore the 
knocking and just climb in to bed, but the person behind the door rapped again.  Quickly 
she made her way to the door, and opened the peephole.  At the door was Duncan.  ‘What 
is he doing here?’ she thought.  Sighing, she opened to door.
	“Well, hello, there,” Duncan said.  “You look so much better now.”  His eyes 
looked up and down her body, which was covered, but just barely, by her thin robe.
	“What do you want?” she barked, growing impatient with his ogling.
	“I brought something that it looks like you need,” he said, holding up the bag that 
contained her clothes.  She gasped.  She’d forgotten them downstairs!
	“Oh,” she said, very embarrassed.  “Thank you.”  She took the bag from him.  
Maybe he wasn’t such a wolf after all, she thought.  He might actually possess some 
worthy qualities.
	“By the way,” he said as he turned to walk away, “I don’t think that underwear in 
the bag suits you well.”  Bellandra’s eyes widened and she could feel the anger boil up in 
her.  Before she said or did anything she would regret, she merely let out a loud humph 
and slammed the door.
	What nerve he had, she thought.  She locked the door and stomped across the 
room to the bed.  She threw the bag down, tore the robe off and climbed in to bed, pulling 
the quilt over her.  It would be a while before she went to sleep, and she spent the time 
stewing over what Duncan had said.  She couldn’t say that she’d never met a man like 
him.  She’d known a man like him back home when she was younger.  All they were 
concerned with was the present, giving no thoughts to the future and what it might hold 
for those who were unwary.  He only paid attention to her because she was good looking.  
He’d learn soon enough that there are other things to think about than good looking 
women, but would it be too late for him when he did?  This was the problem that he and 
all men like him had to live with.  She wouldn’t feel sorry for him when it all finally 
caught up with him.  To the contrary, she would be pleased when he finally learned his 
lesson.  Her thoughts helped her calm down enough that her eyelids became heavy again.  
She let out a yawn, turned over to her side, and drifted off into sleep.

*    *    *

	It happened much the same as it did so many times before.  The boy stood, 
surrounded on all sides by the panicked screams of the villagers around him.  Black 
armored knights swirled around upon their steeds, cutting down any man who came into 
their path.  The women they kept for themselves, for a while at least.  The older ones and 
the girls were slain almost immediately, but the young women were held fast by the 
brutish thugs.  The women watched as their husbands, sons, and fathers died at the ends 
of swords and lances.  Many watched their mothers die as well, as the boy was doing.  He 
lay hidden under an overturned cart, watching the carnage unfold.  His father was cut 
down only a few feet in front of him, the dead eyes staring in his direction, but not at him.  
He watched as one of the beasts on horseback jumped down and grabbed his mother, 
tearing at her clothes.  She screamed and struggled, her arms reaching out toward her 
husband, calling his name.  She was forced to the ground and raped viciously.  When her 
attacker had pleasured himself to his filling, he drove his blade into her chest, silencing 
her wailing and sobbing.  The boy himself was in shock, staring blankly at the corpses of 
his parents.  He didn’t move when the soldier righted the cart and discovered him there.  
He made no gesture when the man raised his blade.  His eyes never moved from their 
fixation when a man on horseback shouted to the other man, “Let me have the boy.”  The 
horseman charged at the child, and this time the child looked up, and stared a cold dark 
stare at the man and his horse as they approached at a gallop.  Suddenly the horse 
faltered, and threw off its rider, sending him to the ground.  He landed, impaling himself 
on his own spear.  The boy merely remained where he was, kneeling in the road, fixed on 
now on the skewered rider.  Another man came and lifted him from the ground, carrying 
him away.  The boy stared into nothing.  He could faintly hear the tortured screams of the 
remaining women, who had been rounded up to be slaves for the nobles.  All he knew 
had been shattered.  The crackling of the burning houses, the smell of the smoke, the 
crying, the gloating cheers; all of these filled the air around what used to be his home.
	Jael sat up.  It happened again.  Each time the nightmare came, it was more like 
the reality he lived through, more tangible.  He held his head in his hands as he tried to 
expel the thoughts.  They were dead.  He couldn’t save them any more now that he could 
then.  But it was not too late to save himself.  For years he had served under Lucien 
Drake, learning how to be a warrior, learning what it was to kill and make war.  It was all 
he had known for most of his life.  His recent situations all came down to his 
disobedience of a single order from a superior.  He had been ordered to destroy a small 
town, kill everyone, and burn it to the ground.  He refused.  For this, they had arrested 
him for treason.  He may have followed the order had it been an enemy town.  But it was 
a Tarinian village.  One that had risen up in riot against the King.  Jael knew who the real 
traitors were then.  In the end, the village was destroyed, and he was jailed in his quarters.    
He saved himself, and now had to think of others.  Quickly he gathered his things.  He 
had placed his armor into a trunk he had taken from the shop.  It sat on the end of the bed 
where he lay sleeping, in a room next to Bellandra’s.  He dressed hastily and stepped into 
the hall.
	Bellandra woke to the sound of knocking.  Someone was at the chamber door.  
She pulled the quilt off her and picked the robe up from the floor.  The knocking came 
again.  “Just a minute,” she said, her voice groggy.  She put the robe on haphazardly and 
tied the belt.  She dashed across the floor and opened the peephole.
	“Are you alright?” asked Jael.
	“Yeah.  Give me a minute.”
	“Come downstairs when you’re ready.”
	“Sure,” Bellandra replied.  She closed the hole and turned back to the room.  
Hurrying, she located the bag that contained her fresh clothes.  Once again she shed the 
robe, reaching into the bag.  What she had remaining that she had not yet worn was 
perhaps a bit too nice to be worn just anywhere, but it was all she had.  She pulled out a 
loose silk slip and slid her head through it, popping her arms out through the thin straps.  
A deep blue woolen shirt was next.  It fit snugly, and had a turtleneck.  Loose silk and 
lace shorts went on next.  After that, a wide, knee-length skirt, which she stepped into and 
pulled to her waist, tucking the shirt into it.  Finally, she cinched it all together with a 
thick brown belt.  She pulled her white wool stockings up to her knees and put her leather 
boots on over those.  Fully dressed now, she removed yet another item from the bag: a 
long, yellow ribbon.  She took this over to the vanity and looked at herself.  Her hair was 
still a shambles.  She broke out the brushes and went to work, straightening it all out 
again.  Pulling it together in the back, she tied it into a loose ponytail.  She took the rest 
of her belongings and threw them into the trash receptacle, save for her own purse and 
the bag Jael had given her.  The other clothes were unusable now, and would have to be 
replaced.  Bellandra walked to the door.  Pulling it open, she found a man standing there, 
which startled her a little.  He was a boy, really, about fourteen.  He was meagerly 
dressed, and had with him a package.  His hand was raised as if he meant to knock on the 
door.
	“Oh!” he said.  “This is for you.”  He held the package to her.
	“Who’s it from?” she asked.
	“Don’t know.”
	“Well, here’s something for your trouble,” she said, handing him a gold piece.  
His eyes lit up to have received such a treasure.  That is what she loved the most about 
giving.  The boy jogged away down the hall and the stairs, vanishing out of sight.  
Bellandra placed the package on a small table by the door.  She pulled the knot on the 
string that held it wrapped, and it opened with a pop.  As she pushed the brown paper 
aside, she beheld the most beautiful blue fabric.  She took hold of it, and held it up, 
letting it fall open.  It was a cloak.  A fabulous brand new cloak, which matched her 
outfit, no less.  Joyfully, she wrapped the thing around her, closing the gold clasp on the 
neck and letting the hood fall on her back.  What a wonderful present, but who could 
have sent it, she thought.
	Downstairs, Jael waited.  He had watched as the boy ran up with the gift he had 
bought for Bellandra.  After a few moments, the boy came bounding down the steps 
again and out the door, his parcel delivered.  He knew that she would be coming down 
any moment now, and sure enough, she did.  It was truly a remarkable sight, she in her 
new cloak, cleaned and properly dressed, descending the wooden staircase.  Her outfit 
appeared as if it and the cloak were tailor-made for each other.  The blues went perfectly 
together, and the gold clasp brought attention to the golden locket that rested on her 
bosom.  How much like the girl in the locket she now looked, he thought.  He stood to 
greet her.
	“Bellandra,” he said.  Immediately, she interrupted him.
	“There are some men who want to meet you,” she told him.
	“What men?”
	“They want to ask you some questions about Tarinia.  They should be...”
	“On time as promised,” Duncan finished for her.  He stood at the door, the same 
arrogant expression on his face that he always wore.  He had on a plain tan cloak which 
covered his nondescript white shirt, blue pants, and brown leather boots.  Jondel stood 
behind him, sporting light leather armor and a sword on each hip.  To Bellandra, they 
seemed like a formidable pair.  To Jael, however, they seemed nothing more than 
poseurs, each more than likely unable to fight their way out of a burlap sack.  Jael still 
wore his enormous blade on his back, but he had taken his armor to the stable, where he 
had purchased a mule that would carry the chest it rested in.  His monstrous muscles were 
easily discernable under his unsubstantial white shirt.  His overall frame wasn’t huge, but 
he had built well upon it.