Era of Blood and Steel: Power of Pawns

By Jessica Gillespie

Brothers by bond.

Divided by position and belief.

History is made by those of insignificant bearing, being born of no great importance. They rise like stone pillars from the depths of the seas of time...

James, a commoner, strives for the quiet life of a soldier with aspirations to settle down and raise his family. Only, fate has other plans.

Samuel, the son of Lord Philip of the kingdom of Sand Land; destined to become the next ruler of his father's Kingdom, is born with his path set in stone.

Once the best of friends who shared a similar vision for the future, separated by distance and loyalties. Now poised to become enemies on the cusp of events that will alter the future of their homeland forever.

Both are pulled along by the force of circumstances into the very fabric of the ever-changing landscape of their respective worlds. Destiny claims them both for its own means and neither one has control over his own life.

Or so they are led to believe...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Jun 26, 2024
• ISBN: 9798891577275

Book preview

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Era of Blood and Steel

Power of Pawns

Jessica Gillespie

Copyright © 2024 Jessica Gillespie

All rights reserved

First Edition

PAGE PUBLISHING

Conneaut Lake, PA

First originally published by Page Publishing 2024

ISBN 979-8-89157-708-4 (pbk)

ISBN 979-8-89157-727-5 (digital)

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

The Tale Begins

Prelude

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Court of Lies

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

Chapter 50

Chapter 51

Chapter 52

Chapter 53

Chapter 54

Epilogue

To Howard Pyle.

Men of Iron inspired me to get interested in medieval history and helped me discover my love and passion for telling tales of adventurous times in the world of kings, kingdoms, and knights.

Of all the stories that arose during my childhood games, the ones of knights and great adventures have remained with me over the years when others have faded with time.

I want to share those tales of adventure, danger, and chivalry with others.

Your conduct in your daily duties will reflect your true image. So serve well and earn your place.

Part 1

The Tale Begins

Prelude

Thirty-one season cycles past

And you are certain of this? The king faced the single open window of the stuffy recording room.

Golden rays showered him in an orb of yellow white.

I have seen it, Rasuki said wearily.

Not just me but others have as well. The abbots of the Citadel of Kitmal have informed me that the child has been warned through the celestial voice.

And there is no way to alter or change the outcome? There was no sense of hopefulness in his tone, just acceptance.

Full of deep regret, Rasuki shook his head.

Not even if I could chain the renegade princess or—Almighty, forgive me—have her executed. The king dropped his head to his chest.

Even then it cannot be deviated?

Now, he turned toward his visitor, hands clasped behind his back, face etched with grave worry, expectantly awaiting an answer.

No. He lowered his gaze; it pained him to even recall the recurring vision that haunted his dreams.

"Whether it happens tomorrow, weeks from now, days, or even a season cycle or two from now, it will happen.

"The die is cast; the path is set. What is to be, cannot be undone."

Letting a heaving sigh escape his lips, the king's shoulders sunk lower. He stepped forward, pressing his palms against the polished red oak tabletop, and leaned into it.

How?

Visibly his thoughts were churning, eyes reflecting confusion.

Why can it not be stopped with the end of Marie and her scheming? Isn't she my biggest threat?

She is not, Rasuki answered forlornly.

It was too difficult to hold the king's tormented gaze. To know he was burdened with delivering such devastating news. Worse, he could give no option for prevention or escape from the inevitable.

He did not even have a reason for such a cruel fate to be bestowed on a virtually perfect man.

And the figures…from your vision? the king asked.

Rasuki grimaced, furrowing his brow.

The figures are shrouded in black. I can't even get an inkling of who they might be or whom they might represent. I have never had this difficulty with the visions. I don't understand it.

Could it be the Oglis? the king inquired.

It's possible, but I doubt even they would be so powerful or bold as to want you dead, Rasuki shrugged.

They only care about personal wealth. Killing you wouldn't make sense for them.

But then, I can't really say. Rasuki heaved a sigh. It could even be some or all of the Old Order members. You haven't exactly garnered their support after the announcement of the Unification proposal.

No, no I did not. The king scoffed humorlessly.

I have lost more support now, than when I first ascended the throne as an inexperienced pup. Stubborn, blind fools!

The uncharacteristic outburst brought Rasuki's head up. The king scrubbed both hands through his shorter gray-flecked auburn hair.

His expression was twisted with disgust and frustration.

With my death, all hope of uniting our two countries will be lost. Years of diplomacy, trade agreements, and exhaustible effort will be wasted. All for naught!

That is why it is imperative that you think about my proposal, Rasuki pressed.

It must be done if you hope to save your legacy.

The king, hands still in his hair, resting on the sides of his head, looked over at Rasuki and frowned. His eyes were overshadowed with contemplation.

There is wisdom in it, he relented, dropping his arms to his sides.

Don't think I have not thought it over since you first brought the suggestion to my attention. He eyed Rasuki auspiciously.

If I should, when I should be assassinated, all I have labored over will be washed away. Like the flame of a candle put out into the wind on a winter's night. Fear entered the king's eyes while he spoke.

As though I have never existed. Twenty season cycles will be erased…the impossible dream never realized.

No, sire, Rasuki interceded, the hopeless anguish was too great.

There is a way to save your work, to preserve the dream. We still have time.

Drawing a sharp breath, the king tilted his face upward and blinked several times. He whispered.

You know what you are asking of me? The cost…this decision, it is not right.

No, it is not, Rasuki said haltingly.

But it is necessary…for our people. For Teary Isles.

Rasuki took an anxious step toward the king, wringing his hands.

If you choose to stand by and do nothing, then all will truly be lost. Your legacy, your lineage with end…with you.

Lowering his head, the king again met Rasuki's gaze. Tears of agony glittered in his brilliant blue eyes.

You cannot possibly understand what you are asking me to do. His face twisted with wretched fear, unbecoming of the regal king of Teary Isles.

To choose which to save and which to sacrifice. To determine which is more important…more promising. To send one of my sons to slaughter…

Chapter 1

He was hidden in the shadows of a column near the rear door to the north wing of the castle. He had been hiding there since the wee hours of the morning. He and Samuel had both agreed over morning meal to rendezvous there, but so far there had been no sign of Master Samuel.

A vicious icy wind howled in from the north. It was a much colder day of winter than there had been thus far. It was so frigid that hardly a soul roamed about the streets, save for a villager or guard on patrol.

With the daily sparing lesson canceled; both he and Samuel jumped at the chance to act on their plans. They had been itching for any kind of adventure; any excuse to remedy the long winter doldrums.

James was beginning to wonder if his friend had changed his mind about the whole affair. It was James who had suggested that they explore the closed-off north wing of the castle.

Despite the risk of severe punishment if they were caught in that section of the castle; Samuel readily agreed to the idea. He made mention of a few old manuscripts he had seen in storage when he was assisting the master of records, that he wanted to go back and check out.

With Samuel being the scholarly one, this made perfect sense.

Since then, on a few separate occasions, Master Samuel had expressed his hesitancy about going on such a risky endeavor.

Just when James was on the verge of calling it quits because his fingers and toes had gone numb from the cold, he heard the rapid approach of footfalls headed his way.

Is that you, Sam? James whispered from his hiding place.

When he was not answered, he began fearing that he might have been discovered by the guard on patrol.

Samuel whipped around the corner, stopping short in front of James. The young man gave a start at the unexpected appearance of his friend.

Geesh! Are you trying to scare me to death? James gasped.

Sorry, Samuel said, sucking in a big gulp of air.

Just trying to get here before that guard makes another pass.

When will that be? James's voice fell to a whisper as he gazed around anxiously.

Anytime, Samuel answered before he shoved James back against the wall and took up a place beside him so they were both mostly hidden behind the column.

Samuel was wearing his heavy woolen combat jacket, and the hood was pulled up so far that it concealed most of his face except for a few stray locks of flaxen blond hair protruding out on his forehead.

Should we even be doing this? James asked, feeling doubt creeping up on him.

What? Are you chickening out? Samuel teased as he checked the end of the hall.

No, James said feeling defiant.

Good, Samuel said smiling over at James. Now, look, don't worry about it. This is all part of the plan, remember?

I know, I know, James muttered, rolling his eyes. You have it all planned out to the second.

I do. Samuel reaffirmed proudly. Just relax.

And…there he is.

Seconds after Samuel said this, the guard came sauntering up to the end of the hallway. He paused for a few moments and gazed about carefully before he turned and headed back the way he had come.

Okay, Samuel said still watching the end of the hallway. Got the key?

Yep. James drew the key from the pouch hanging from his leather belt and offered it to his friend's outstretched hand.

It wasn't easy to acquire. Walter is a very meticulous man, and he notices everything.

So how did you lift this off of him? Samuel inquired curiously as he silently made his way over to the door and inserted the key in the lock.

Swapped it with a similar dummy key while he slept, James said, straightening up, and smiled.

Now, how did you manage that? Samuel looked over his shoulder and raised a brow.

Blacksmith Kelvin fashioned it for me.

Did he ask what it was for? Samuel asked, narrowing his eyes.

Naw, he could care less, James replied with a shrug. Especially when he got a dozen buttered rolls from the castle kitchen for his trouble.

Ha, pays to have certain friends, Samuel said, raising a finger.

James just smiled as he thought about the kindly old castle cook, Wynn, who had been more like a grandmother to him. Whenever he came to her about getting some food to take when he and Samuel went out for escapades in the countryside, she never failed to send them off with a rich bounty.

Wynn never asked questions as to where they were going or why he needed the food goods.

When the door was unlocked, Samuel paused with both palms on the door and looked over his shoulder at James.

Ready?

You bet, James answered, leaning forward in anticipation.

Samuel pushed the door as far as he could. It made a resounding crack and scrape against the stone floor as it inched open. Both boys instantly froze. James's heart was in his throat, fearing that the guard might have heard the commotion.

Tense moments passed, but nothing happened.

Quickly, Samuel slipped into the other side of the door, and James was close at his heels. Once inside, Samuel pulled the door closed behind them. The room was pitch dark, and James began to rummage around in his knapsack blindly for his flint, knife, and the torch.

Sam, I can't see a single thing, James hissed as his hands closed around what he was searching for.

Samuel opened the door a crack, and a narrow shaft of light filtered into the otherwise dark room. James brought the items into the light and fumbled for a few moments trying to get the torch lit. It became obvious that he couldn't, his fingers were so numb from the cold that he was unable to grip anything decently.

Sam…

Again, without so much as a sound, Samuel took the flint and knife while James held the torch. Samuel had to work at it for a while before he struck a spark that lit the torch, once he had the torch burning brightly, he slipped the knife and flint back into James's shoulder bag.

Samuel pushed the door shut once more and turned around.

They discovered that they were not standing in a room, but a short stone hall that led to a staircase. James let Samuel push ahead as they made their way up the staircase.

When they reached the top, they were led to a larger corridor with rooms lining either side of it. Many of the rooms had the doors drawn shut and locked, but there were a few exceptions. Some rooms had doors while others were open.

The rooms with doors open were being used as storage rooms to hold items such as personal belongings of the family, old tapestries, dishes, and decorations to use for festivals and social engagements. Here and there along the corridor were decorative suits of rusty, dust-caked armor and weapons hung on the walls.

Down the length of the floor was a tightly woven faded blue carpet with gold fringed edges. The middle of the carpet was threadbare from consistent use.

Wow, this is amazing, James remarked, marveling at everything around them. Do you see all this stuff?

Yeah, Samuel muttered as he kept going.

You mean, you don't find any of this fascinating? Shouldn't we at least go through some of it? James asked, raising a brow.

If you've seen the belongings of one noble family, then you have seen them all, Samuel replied flatly.

Oh, how could I forget? You got to remember, Samuel, not everyone was fortunate enough to be born of a noble family, James stated sarcastically.

Ha, fortunate! Samuel scoffed with bitterness. "You think being born of a noble family is fortunate? Well, you are wrong. You know little of the expectations that surround you.

The etiquette you are required to learn and how you must conduct yourself, even if you are hundreds of miles from home. He threw his arms wide.

And you would be knowledgeable on this how? James retorted. "Come on, Sam. You haven't seen Sand Land since you were seven. You have been training alongside me, as a commoner."

Are we seriously going to go there? Samuel challenged, abruptly stopping, and faced James. Again?

All I am saying is, how can you know anything about being part of a title-born family when your father left you here ten season cycles ago? James pointed out cautiously.

He abandoned me. What's your point? Samuel countered defensively.

Look, it doesn't matter. Just forget I ever brought it up, James said dismissively. He wanted to avoid an arguing fight with Samuel.

I remember, James. Samuel pointed at his temple.

Samuel's tone got low and cracked with emotion, deep pain filled his eyes. James could see the agony in his friend's face and hear it in his words, and he deeply regretted bringing the topic up in the first place.

I remember my oldest brother falling to his death from the castle wall because I wanted to play up there with him. The look on my brokenhearted mother's face every time she looked at me! Samuel's eyes moistened, and his white-knuckled grip on the torch tightened.

All she saw was the monster that killed her eldest boy; the future Lord of Sand Land. I remember my father never once uttered a word on the journey here to Brooklyn Falls. He left me with Sir Peter and n-never so much as said goodbye.

James lowered his gaze; he found looking into his friend's face unbearable.

Did you forget that I remember everything? Every little detail of anything that has ever happened to me?

I-I'm sorry, Samuel, James apologized timidly.

Don't lecture me on something you know nothing about! Samuel warned before he turned his back on James and continued down the corridor.

Nice going, James! What a way to be insensitive. How could you be so foolish to forget his ability to recall the events of his life with sharp detail?

If he could say or do anything at the moment to smooth things over, he would; but once Samuel had been set off, there was no way to predict how he would react.

It was best to stay quiet.

I'm such a stupid fool!

For several minutes, they lapsed into silence, and James hoped that he hadn't gotten Samuel too upset with him.

Gradually, as they went along through rooms, halls, and corridors, it became apparent to James that Samuel was looking for something particular.

Sam? James hesitantly spoke up. Are you looking for something specific?

Maybe, Samuel answered distractedly.

Something like the records room? Because I think that was back there. James pointed back over his shoulder.

Back near the top of the stairs where all those shelves of parchment, books, and scrolls were.

No, not that, Samuel said, shaking his head.

What then?

You'll see, Samuel said, his tone vague.

Clenching his teeth and grumbling inwardly in annoyance, James rolled his eyes and followed Samuel toward another flight of steps.

I should have known better.

James felt a wave of deep disappointment wash over him. He knew any further inquiry for Samuel would elicit the same mysterious responses.

Why does everything always have to have an ulterior motive for you, Samuel? Can you not do something for fun? Just this once.

Chapter 2

Going up the stairs, they came to a dark narrow hallway that was dimly lit by the windows from the rooms below. There were rooms on either side of the long dark hall but fewer than the floor below.

As they made their way down the hallway, James tried a few of the doors only to find that they were locked.

Finally, Samuel slowed his pace to a hesitant walk and carefully studied the doors on either side of the hallway.

Sam.

Shh. Samuel motioned for James to be silent and handed the torch back to him.

The hall was empty, not even a carpet lay on the floor, and it felt cold and damp. The only tapestry James spotted was at the end of the hall, and it was by far the ugliest thing he had ever seen.

The tapestry was dusty and ratty. Made from a stringy brown and gray material. Only after staring at it long enough did he discover it was a map, but it was too dusty and faded to tell of where.

Obviously, someone didn't know how to decorate, James remarked with an undertone of distaste.

There you are! Samuel muttered, moving toward the ugly tapestry.

Samuel quickened his pace, moving down the hall toward the hideous tapestry. Taking ahold of the bottom of the wall hanging, he gave it a good hard pull. With a ripping tear, the tapestry tore away from the wall and crumpled in a heap at Samuel's feet, revealing an oaken door behind it.

Follow me, Samuel invited proudly as he pulled the loop handle on the door.

He had to pull hard as the door was stiff from the freezing cold and ill use.

Samuel, could you please tell me what you are looking for? James demanded wearily.

Would you believe me if I told you that behind this door could be the Black Rider's hideout? Samuel explained eyes shining.

"What? James gasped. Are you being serious?"

Yes.

But…but how do you know this? James raised a brow.

It was in the documented history of the Golden Arrow Uprising that I borrowed from Priest Dutton, pausing, Samuel faced James.

Oddly enough, there was a page stuck within the document that had notes written in the language of the Golden Arrow Bandits and a detailed map of where the Black Rider's lair could be located.

Why was there a map of the hideout in a history document? Wouldn't that be a risk? James pondered.

What makes you think I know? Samuel countered with a shrug.

James made a face.

Perhaps it was done for a reason. I do know that the notes and map were written in the Golden Arrow language, so not too many people would be able to decipher it. Samuel paused at the entrance of the room. The Black Rider could have meant for someone to find it. He has been absent for the last seven season cycles.

It's a good thing you're a bit of a linguist in your spare time. James jested.

It could have been that the Black Rider had someone who knew him and needed to know where his hideout was in case things went wrong.

That could very well be. Samuel nodded for James to enter the room before him.

Either way, I think we will have fun exploring this place.

When James shone the torchlight into the dark room, they discovered it was not very large, but it was filled from floor to ceiling with shelves of parchments and scrolls.

The walls had black-gray mold, and the air was rank with the smell of mildew. A thick layer of dust coated the floor, scrolls, and shelves. There seemed to be cobwebs in every nook and cranny.

Oh, Samuel muttered his disappointment at the sight of the room's interior. Okay…I did not expect this.

Well, this is a bit of a letdown. James couldn't help noting.

Sorry, James. I thought that if this was the lair of the Black Rider. Had it been we could have had hours of fun looking through things, Samuel said as he made his way over to a shelf to the right.

It has been fun to get into a part of the castle we wouldn't get a chance to be in otherwise, James remarked, trying to be optimistic.

Besides, I wonder what's written on some of these scrolls.

He went over to one of the shelves on the opposite side that Samuel was on. Leaning in close to the parchment booklet lying on a shelf, he tried to make out the smudged and water-damaged ink writing.

Geez, I might not be able to tell. There's too much damage, James said.

He tried moving a few more scrolls and parchment on the shelf, only to discover more of the same problems.

Some of the parchment crumbled in his hands, and he had to stop touching them.

Too bad, Samuel remarked disheartened.

In a moment of frustration, Samuel leaned heavily into one of the bookshelves behind him and threw his hands up.

Awe, come on, Sam—

Before James got the chance to finish his thought, the bookshelf Samuel leaned against gave a loud groan and crack before it collapsed, burying Samuel underneath a pile of musty old scrolls, parchment, and wood.

Samuel! Samuel, are you all right? James cried out, rushing over.

Holding the torch in one hand, James bent down and began to dig away at the mountain of rubble as best he could.

I'll live, Samuel grumbled slowly sitting up, pushing the materials and broken shelf off himself as he did so.

Rotten old thing. Grumbling, Samuel dusted bits of wood and dust off his legs.

Are you sure you haven't been hurt? James bent down, offering his hand.

James, I have been beaten into the dirt by boys twice my size. I highly doubt a little old rotten shelf is going to kill me, Samuel assured with a half grin.

Whoa…Samuel, look.

James's mouth dropped agape, his attention drawn to a door that had been hidden behind the rotten shelf. A large intricately carved cross was positioned at the center of the door as tall as the door was.

Hey, maybe being buried under a bookshelf was worth it after all, Samuel remarked.

Samuel sat where he was, marveling at the door.

We may yet have our adventure, James hopefully added.

Looks like there's some kind of parchment nailed to the door…not sure I can make out what it says. James moved around the rubble on the floor and leaned in with the torch to try and get a better look.

Here, let me read it, Samuel said eagerly as he scrambled to his feet and pushed James aside.

"It says, ‘If you fail, we fail. If you lose hope, we lose hope.' Most of the rest of it is too faded to read, except for the last line, Samuel muttered. ‘Beware any who enter in here. One way in, one way out.'"

What is any of that supposed to mean? James furrowed his brow.

I don't know. It all sounds strange, Samuel replied.

Maybe we shouldn't go any further, James suggested taking a step back. Could be booby-trapped.

James, this could very well be the door that leads to the Black Rider's hideout. Exactly the place we are looking for, Samuel reasoned.

I don't know about you, but I need to know.

Wait. James grabbed Samuel's arm, stopping him.

What if something happens? What if we get trapped in here? What will Emma think when she finds out?

Maybe we shouldn't go any further. That sounded like a warning.

Look, James. Turning his head up, Samuel gave a heaving sigh. I came here to go on an adventure, and I want to know if the Black Rider's hideout is on the other side of this door. You can stay here if you want.

Fine. James gave in, rolling his eyes. I'll go a little further, but you can't say I didn't object.

With a snort, Samuel wrinkled his brows before turning to the door.

Here goes. Samuel gave the door handle a hard pull.

The door didn't budge. Samuel tried again several more times, but it yielded the same results.

Seriously? Samuel groaned, slamming his fist against the door.

Move aside. James gave the torch to Samuel.

Whoa, wait. Samuel held a hand up. You're not going to try and break it down, are you?

It's worth a try. James shrugged.

James, it's solid pine. You'll break before it ever does. Samuel reasoned, his brow creasing.

Gotta try something, James offered.

It's your funeral, Samuel muttered in exasperation at his friend's idea.

Taking a short run at it, James slammed into the door with his shoulder. When the boy and door made contact, Samuel grimaced, expecting James to bounce right off.

When James thudded against it, the door smashed into pieces, and he tumbled headlong into the room.

Chapter 3

This has got to be it! Samuel declared.

The room they discovered wasn't very big. Inside there were several more shelves along the wall, but these had mixed items—scrolls, tomes, parchments, and carved images. In one corner of the room was a rickety old desk with parchments haphazardly sprawled all over it and covered with a thick layer of dust and cobwebs.

Now, this is more like it, Samuel said, stepping over James.

Oh, thank you for your concern, James grumbled as he picked himself up out of the debris.

Samuel cast a passing glance back at his friend before he continued to marvel at the secret room.

I think you're right, Sam. James dusted himself off. This looks like it could be the right place. Just look at all this stuff. Weapons, armor, maps, and all these other effects.

Look at these tomes! Samuel exclaimed, moving toward a shelf near him.

Some of these records…I don't think anyone has seen other than the scribe that penned it.

"A History of the Ravens Burg Freedom Warriors, The Great Brooklyn War, Customs and Trades of Teary Isles, A Basic History of Varamor, and The Bornstar Family Lineage."

There were numerous other volumes of the order of knights in each titled house in Teary Isles and a documented history of nearly every kingdom.

It almost inspires you enough to read, doesn't it, James? Samuel teased.

Ha, yeah…almost. James rolled his eyes, knowing Samuel was ribbing him about not enjoying reading.

I never knew our country was chronicled like this, James commented, peering over Samuel's shoulder.

It's astounding to think someone went through all the work of writing this much down.

Though, I don't believe just one person single-handedly penned all of this. It had to be several people over many season cycles, Samuel suggested, opening the cover of one of the volumes.

You're probably right. The Black Rider probably just somehow managed to collect them all. James agreed.

Uh-huh. Samuel looked around slowly. Hey! Look at this!

Samuel dove into a dark cobwebbed corner and pulled something out. When he came over and took the torch light from Samuel's hand, James saw that it was an old worn flag.

The flag had been white at one time but was now faded to yellow. In the center there was a red cross with silver thorns wrapped around it and in thick black lettering below the cross were the words: Ravens Burg Freedom Warriors.

No way! James gasped his eyes widening.

Goodness! I didn't think these existed anymore!

They haven't been seen since the Great Brooklyn War, and that was over one hundred and seventy season cycles ago! Samuel replied, shaking the dusty flag out. This is unbelievable! I wonder if it is an original that was used during the uprising.

What do you think? Look at it. It's got holes in it. It's smudged, and there are small rips everywhere. James pointed out, taking a closer look.

Just finding this makes our little escapade worth the risk, Samuel muttered, rolling the flag up and giving it to James to put in his knapsack.

It sure does. James agreed, smiling. Come on, let's keep looking around. Remember, we can't be away for too long or someone will notice.

You mean like Emma? Samuel quipped.

Yes, for one. James could feel his cheeks growing hot.

She's a bit of a worrier, isn't she? Samuel teased.

Emma is a kind and caring person, James defended. Her friends mean a great deal to her. You and I are the few that she has.

James saw Samuel shake his head dismissively. He did not care much for Samuel always giving him a tough time about liking the castle cook's daughter. Sometimes, James wondered if Samuel's attitude was because he might be jealous not of Emma but because James was spending more time with her instead of gallivanting with him.

James went over to the desk and began to shuffle through the mess. He came across a parchment book that was crudely stuffed together and bound between leather covers.

Hey, I think I have something. He picked the book up.

Really? Samuel eagerly hurried over and joined him.

Samuel carefully took the book from James and opened it to where a marker had been stuck and began to read it aloud.

"If we fail to act now, we fail the Lord our God. We have chosen this path and now leave our sons and daughters to bear the consequences of the trouble we have created and the mistakes we have made. Now, all our hopes rest upon the shoulders of a single boy, the last of a line. It remains to be seen if he shall accept his destiny and save Teary Isles."

What else does it say? James pressed.

That's it. That's where it ends, Samuel replied, frowning in dismay. It appears that the rest of the page was torn out. Now, why would anyone want to do that?

Don't know. Maybe if the Black Rider penned it or a scribe, they might not have liked the rest, James offered as he came over and leaned in closer.

Samuel thumbed through it, pausing; he read a short entry.

"The boy must choose between family, friends, and occupation. He must rise to the position of the king of Teary Isles. This country needs a leader, and he is the one…there is no other!"

You've got to be joking, James scoffed. "The legend goes that the whole royal family was wiped out by Regent Marie. There were no survivors. Now, this book claims that a single heir survived?"

I don't think this is a joke, James, Samuel remarked frowning.

There have been rumors of a surviving heir to the throne hidden somewhere in Teary Isles. There are claims that he was smuggled out during the pandemonium on the night the royal family was murdered. Some say he was taken to Oak Land while others claim he is right here in Brooklyn Falls.

Okay, so if this supposed heir does exist, then why hasn't he claimed his right to the throne? James challenged. It's been almost twelve season cycles since King Théoden was murdered. The boy should be plenty old enough to be king.

Well, assuming that this belongs to the Black Rider, maybe he was the one to smuggle the boy out and is the only one who knows his real identity. Think about it. No one has seen the Black Rider for several season cycles, and that could explain why the heir hasn't come forward. Samuel gestured to the book.

You think the Black Rider might have told someone else about the heir, just in case something happened to him? James raised a brow.

He did. Samuel held the diary up.

Yeah, it mentions a supposed surviving heir but gives no name. This diary does no one any good without a name.

Well, we haven't thoroughly gone through it. The name might be in there but hidden so it cannot be easily discovered by just anyone, Samuel insisted with conviction.

Fine, we'll take it back with us and look through it when we get a chance. James was weary of the conversation. He took the parchment book from his friend's hand and stuffed it into his shoulder bag. James still thought that the diary was only wishful thinking.

There, happy? he remarked sarcastically.

Samuel flashed a triumphant smile.

Turning, Samuel went back to look among the scattered mess on the desk. James stepped close to one of the legs of the table; he felt a slightly upraised stone sink into the floor. The wall behind the rickety desk shifted back and gradually swung open with a grating against the stone floor. Behind the wall was another very narrow dark passageway.

Okay…, Samuel said uncertainly, dropping the parchment held in his hand as he stared at the new reveal.

This is starting to get too weird, James said nervously. I say we should get out of here. We explored a little and got some items to bring back with us.

Come on, James. It won't hurt to go a little further, Samuel said with an adventurous tone. The room is right there. All we have to do is go in.

There might have been some truth to that warning on the door, James reasoned hesitantly.

"You can stay here if you want, chicken." Samuel made his way around the desk and snatched the torch out of James's hand.

All right, fine. James gave in reluctantly. But if anything, else strange happens, then I am out.

Fine by me. Samuel shrugged stepping into the dark passage.

Samuel smiled his usual overconfident smile. James on the other hand felt irked by his friend's taunting remark. He knew that if he backed out now, Samuel would never let him live it down.

Just as James stepped over the threshold into the new room, there came the sound of stone scraping, and the wall quickly slid back into place.

No! Samuel cried. He tried to stop the wall's movement, but by the time he reached it, it was too late.

With a final low groan, the mortar wall settled into place over the opening.

They were trapped!

Chapter 4

Samuel pounded and pushed against the shelf but to no avail.

This is just perfect! he groaned, leaning against the wall and slid to the floor.

"Well, maybe someone shouldn't have been so curious," James chided.

The air in the room felt heavy and damp. James's senses were assaulted by the odor of mildew and musty wood. He was glad that they had torchlight, though he couldn't see more than a few paces beyond.

The stonework in this tunnel was different as well. It looked as if it had been cut out of a single piece with hand tools, leaving behind small jagged dips and grooves in the walls and floor.

Really? Who was the one that wanted to go exploring in the first place? Samuel shot back.

"I wanted to explore the castle, not seek out the Black Rider's hideout. That was your idea." James jabbed a finger at Samuel.

Okay, being trapped in this room is on me, but the fault for being here isn't totally my responsibility. Samuel relented, using his free hand to comb the cobwebs and dust from his flaxen hair. You are as much a part of this as I am.

We could have stopped at the other room, but no, we just had to keep going. James gestured forward with his hands.

Oh, would you just shut up! Samuel growled, giving a fistful of his hair a tug.

If we can't get out of here, we're in deep trouble, James muttered.

Dread filled him at the thought of how angry Walter and Sir Peter would be with them.

We're so dead.

If we can't find a way out of here, then we will definitely be dead, Samuel warned, holding the torch out to shine through the darkness beyond.

James fell silent at the prospect of dying there. They would certainly freeze to death long before they died of thirst or starvation.

I'd rather scrub all the floors of the castle for the rest of my days than freeze to death. Standing there, he dusted the bits of wood and rock from his shoulder and arm.

I'm such an idiot. I should have just left this area of the castle alone. Why did I have to want to go exploring the north wing? Why not the open countryside or the poor sector of the city?

Come on. We might as well look for a way out, Samuel said as he stood.

Slowly, they made their way through the dark passageway with torchlight illuminating the path ahead of them.

How are we going to get out of here, Sam? James asked, not being able to mask his growing fear.

He was freezing cold and could no longer feel his toes, but he didn't want to tell Samuel. He was worried that Samuel would get upset with him all over again. If anything, he knew for certain