“Yes, Your Highness,” he replied, bowing. “Follow me, please,” he said to the elves. To his relief, the elves followed willingly while he held the chain loosely in his hand. As they approached the stable, Mi’tal spotted the two plain wooden carriages that would carry the elves to their freedom. Once they were placed inside, no one would know who was being transported. The windows would remain covered, and the elves would remain chained to avoid any chance of escaping.
Both carriage drivers appeared nervous, but they helped Mi’tal split the elves into two groups of five. Each group was loaded into a carriage, and Mi’tal took a seat next to the lead driver. With a nod, Mi’tal ordered the drivers to head for the western border.
The wooden carriages rolled noisily over the stone streets of the palace district. Few citizens took any notice as they passed, and Mi’tal felt free to relax in his seat. For now the elves were remaining quiet, and no one was aware that he and the prince had just committed treason. If the king happened to find out about this, they could both expect to be thrown in the dungeons. Aelryk would be forgiven in time, but Mi’tal’s only hope would be for a single stroke of the headsman’s axe. His loyalty to the prince, however, was much stronger than his loyalty to the king. Though Aelryk was still young, Mi’tal could plainly see that he was a much more respectable ruler than his father.
* * * * *
As evening darkened into night, the carriages stopped to make camp at the edge of a small farming community. Mi’tal opened the doors himself to allow the elves to sleep outside in the fresh air. Blankets had been stored in a trunk on the back of the second carriage, and the drivers distributed them among the elves.
“Are we going to have to sleep while chained?” a young elf asked. This was the first time any of them had spoken since the journey began.
“I’m afraid so,” Mi’tal replied. “If you were to escape now, you might still be in danger. You have no reason to trust me, I know. If I unchain you, I can’t be certain you won’t run.”
“What you mean is, you can’t be certain I won’t cut your throat while you sleep,” the elf said, glaring at his captor.
“There’s that as well,” Mi’tal stated calmly. “Neither of us is much capable of trust it seems. We are at war after all.”
“Are you really going to free us when we reach the Wildlands?” an older elf with graying hair asked. “You don’t plan to use us for slave labor anymore?”
“I have no intention of doing so,” Mi’tal answered. “As soon as we reach the border I will release the chains, and you can go where you will. I hope you will consider carrying the prince’s message to your clansmen.”
“I might consider it,” the older elf said. “If you keep your word, perhaps your prince will keep his as well. It’s a shame that the king has no interest in peace. He’s the one we are fighting against.”
“That is true, but Prince Aelryk hopes to negotiate a treaty and bring it before his father. He is certain that once everything is agreed between our two peoples his father will acquiesce.”
“Domren is a tyrant and a murderer,” an elf woman said.
Taking a closer look at her, Mi’tal realized it was the same woman who had been struck by the dockmaster earlier in the day. “I regret the poor treatment you have received at the hands of my people,” he began. “You must believe that the prince will do everything in his power to negotiate this peace. Not all Na’zorans are like the dockmaster who mistreated you.”
“You’re all sheep,” she said. “You follow a tyrant king no matter how cruelly he treats his subjects. He’s beaten you all into submission, and now he has come for us. He will destroy the forest and claim the land for himself. If this prince truly wants peace, he should cut his father’s heart out and claim the throne himself. If he does that, I will carry his message to my people.”
The woman’s harsh words landed heavily on Mi’tal’s ears. She was correct that Domren was a tyrant. He judged his own people mercilessly, and a fair trial was no longer a common occurrence. The king did not like to be questioned, and any advisor that did so risked being put to death. Luckily, Aelryk was able to see the error of his father’s ways. He had grown up to be the opposite of his father, and Mi’tal was certain he would make a far better king.
“A man who murders his own father would be a poor king,” he replied. “Even with all his shortcomings, King Domren is still our sovereign. We must obey him.”