Shield of the Palidine

SHIELD OF THE PALIDINE

By

Barbara T. Cerny

SMASHWORDS EDITION

* * * * *

PUBLISHED BY:

Riven Spine

Cover art and illustrations by Logan Monty Lewis

Shield of the Palidine

Copyright © 2012 by Barbara T. Cerny

Thank you for downloading this ebook. This book remains the copyrighted property of the author and may not be reproduced, scanned, or distributed for any commercial or non-commercial use without permission from the author. Quotes used in reviews are the exception. No alteration of content is allowed. If you enjoyed this book, then encourage your friends to download their own copy.

Your support and respect for the property of this author is appreciated.

This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.

Adult Reading Material

*****

Synopsis

Accidently discovering a portal between Earth and Amorgos, Pierre and Elise find themselves surrounded by frightful creatures from beyond their imagination.

Princess Elise d’Orleans, niece to King Louis XIII, is a spoiled brat used to having everyone cater to her every need. She hates Amorgos, hates the races of people populating Amorgos, and hates the fact that everyone believes she is their Redeemer, the One to free them from enslavement of their common enemy, the Asmodai. But most of all, she hates the fact that the only other human in Amorgos is a stinky peasant that doesn't kowtow to her every whim.

Pierre Tonnelier, the village's journeyman cooper, found an extraordinary necklace in the woods outside Chateau de Saint-Germain en Laye, a castle in the French countryside. He is forced to sell this unusual piece to pay off his father's debts. What he didn't contend with was it taking him on a strange journey with an egotistical royal pain in the derriere.

Shield of the Palidine chronicles the journey of Elise to the true Redeemer, of Pierre to a warrior of immense abilities, and their unbridled love, despite all the tensions of class, bigotry, and intolerance.

Awards

Named by Novel Writing Festival a 2017 best of ADVENTURE Novel Stories from around the world

NATIONAL INDIE EXCELLENCE® BOOK AWARDS FINALIST 2015

A READER’S FAVORITE® 2015 AWARDS FINALIST

Dedication

I dedicate this book to my brother and his wife, Tim and Kris. Siblings are in our lives longer than anyone else, and I have to say that I am glad Tim is my sibling. Kris is truly his soul mate, and their love is an inspiration for those striving to find their own kindred soul.

Acknowledgments

I would like to say thank you to all those people in my life who supported my first three books, Of Angels and Orphans, Grays Hill, and Tressa. I would like to especially thank my husband, Charles, and my two daughters, Oksana and Audra, for allowing me the time to write and publish.

I really need to thank Logan Monty Lewis, my illustrator. After seeing his characters from Second Life® on his computer screen, I asked if he would create a few avatars for this book. Bless him, I think he spent more hours creating the amazing character photos you see in this book than I did actually writing the manuscript! By the time he finished, Illieya was a Second Life® avatar with a life of her own, and all the others he designed from his own avatars. Over the course of creating the illustrations, he storyboarded nearly the entire book into a movie. Monty, I dearly love your enthusiasm, as you went above and beyond my wildest dreams!

I have to once again sing the praises of my editor and partner, Martha Bernard. She continues to be the best editor in America and helps me keep my visions alive. I would also like to thank her sister, Ruth Woodman, who is always my first reader and commentator. All writers need a pair like Martha and Ruth as a support system.

Cast of Main Characters

France

Princesse Elise Marguerite Sabine d’Orleans

Gaston, duc d’Orleans, her father

Pierre Tonnelier, journeyman cooper

Guy Bagot, his best friend

Christophe Lefèvre, the bursar

Émile Laurent, the doctor

Ladies-in-Waiting to Elise

Cécile de la Marbeliére

Dominique Beaumont

Collette Clough

Amorgos

Moaremoff Glano (more'-ray-mauf), Keeper of the Emissarial Chambers, a gnome

Landoon Gunsauley, minotaur emissary

Simcha Knoght (knot), centaur emissary

Gilgul Terdex (gill-ghoul), gnome emissary

Yhenr Nebaro (yen-urh), cyclops emissary

Elam Esendiz (ee-lamb s-n-dizz), satyr emissary

Cherbine Sagne (sure-bean sag-knee), archon emissary

Albo Greath, halfling emissary

Aurdr DaQuan (are-dure), fairy emissary

Ocie Anaul (oh-see an-awl), nymph emissary

Lomo Obenor (low-mow o-been-or), pixie emissary

Pino Obenor (pee-know o-been-or), Lomo’s twin brother

Zeela, the witch queen of the north

Everfire, her pegasus

Finzel, halfling and head butler

Meno (men-know), leader of the archons

Radeg (raw-deg), an archon

Thelizab (thay-lee-zab), an archon

Lewalm (lee-walm), an archon

Illieya Rogam (ill-ee-ay-a), ghost protector of the Palidine armory and treasure

Mahasa Rohnaris (maw-haw-saw), couatl and counsel to Elise

Jaini Cermees (ja-ee-knee sir-meas), centaur king

Advaita (ad-va-ee-ta), centaur queen

Delridge, king of the merfolk

Phaedo Amatid (fay-doe ah-mah-tid), dwarf leader

Dahrol (dah-roll), griffon and counsel to Pierre

Niori Marf (knee-or-ee), lamia leader

Shedu Alad (shay-doo), lammasu leader

Anja (on-ya), fairy and sparring partner of Pierre

Opare Rigol, couatl leader

Cabel Loki, griffon leader

Asmodai (as-moe-die), the enemy of Amorgos

Bahya Uleysield (baa-ya you-lay-sealed), Asmodai leader

*****

SHIELD OF THE PALIDINE

*****

Chapter 1

The day was glorious, and the two seven-year-old boys were using some of their rare free time to explore the woods outside Chateau de Saint-Germain en Laye, one of the numerous summer castles of the French king, Louis XIII.

Pierre Tonnelier and his best friend, Guy Bagot, had spent their precious two free hours playacting as cavaliers, rescuing fair damsels, and slaying dragons with their sticks turned into righteous swords. Their laughter and high jinx could be heard through the trees from quite a distance.

Pierre was running back toward the village with Guy in hot pursuit when he simply disappeared from sight. Guy stopped just in time to prevent himself from falling into the same hole Pierre had stumbled into.

Pierre dropped like a stone through the branches and layers of leaves that had covered and partially filled the hole. Luckily, those same branches and leaves broke his fall, preventing him from seriously injuring himself.

Guy fell to his knees beside the hole in a panic, certain that his best friend was dead. He shuddered at the thought of having to tell Pierre’s father that Pierre was lying at the bottom of a giant hole full of fierce beasts and snakes.

Pierre groaned as he rolled over on his stomach to push himself up. Guy screamed his name at the top of his lungs from above. "Mon dieu! Pierre, Pierre, is ye dead?"

"Non, I am not dead," Pierre assured his friend as he brushed off dirt and leaves and pulled sticky cobwebs out of his thick, jet-black hair. He would have to take out his ponytail to remove them all. The boy looked up.

"Zut alors! Guy, do not just stand there, find a branch or something to help me out!"

Guy ran back to the tree line searching for a long enough, strong enough branch to push into the hole for Pierre to grab ahold of.

While he waited for Guy to return, Pierre explored his temporary prison. The thin peasant lad pulled vines and roots away from the recesses of the fissure to find four perfectly-formed rectangles cut into the sides of the hole in which he was currently trapped. Two were on top, and two beneath, and each space was long enough and deep enough for an adult to lie in comfortably. They nearly looked like places to sleep, or very deep shelves. Pierre was contemplating their use when a rather large branch came crashing into the hole just behind him, narrowly missing his head.

Guy! What are ye trying to do, help me or kill me?

Sorry, I lost me grip. Can ye climb it?

Pierre sighed and grabbed the lower branches to begin his climb. He had made three or four rungs when something caught his eye in the upper opening. He climbed back down again to see what it was.

Guy was not happy. What did ye git off for? I’m trying to rescue ye and ye ain’t helping much!

Oh, be quiet, Pierre admonished Guy as he piled up branches to stand on so he could see into the long rectangle. He reached in and grabbed the item before falling back into the hole again.

The young boy turned the object around in his hands a couple of times to examine it closely. It was slightly curved, about the size of a man’s full palm, but rectangular in shape. It had dainty chains about ten inches long attached to two corners. What could it be? he wondered.

Guy’s voice interrupted his thoughts. Come on Pierre, we are late already and ye needn’t be dawdling in that hole!

Pierre sighed and shoved the object in his waistband. Guy was right. His father would not be pleased that he was returning home so late. André Tonnelier was the village cooper, and Pierre was his only child and sole apprentice. There was work to be done, and his father only allowed Pierre a couple of hours away from the shop on Sundays. Guy’s father and mother, Gustave and Violette, owned the shop next door to the cooperage, and made cheese for the village and chateau. Guy had two brothers, Yves and Claude, and a sister, Odette. Since Pierre’s mother, Monique, and his baby sister had died in her birthing when Pierre was two years old, Violette had become his surrogate mother, and Guy’s siblings he considered his siblings, too.

But right now all he had on his mind was climbing out of this dirty hole. He scampered up the branch, and then he and Guy ran home as fast as their young legs could carry them. While running, Pierre brushed as much of the dirt off of him as possible, but he was certain his father would still make him take a bath. Pierre hated baths.

*****

After the evening meal of bread, cheese, and a vegetable stew, Guy and Pierre took the mysterious object Pierre had found to the river and washed it thoroughly. Neither of them had ever seen anything like it. It was silver in color but not as heavy as the silver money they had seen. The workmanship was finer than anything the craftsmen in the village could produce, the metal thin but very strong. It had beautiful scrollwork etched on the front. Neither of the boys could read, so the writing on it remained a mystery.

In the middle of the elaborate metal plate was a jewel of some sort. It was large and oval, about the size of a small egg. The stone almost seemed magical, for it appeared to float in a hole in the metal plate. Try as they might, the boys could not find anything that connected the stone to the rest of the object. But when they touched it, the stone spun freely inside the hole.

The stone’s color was also unusual. Depending on how it caught the light, it appeared green, blue, pink, or white. The center had a smoky quality to it, which almost seemed to move.

All in all, it was the most interesting thing either boy had ever seen. They finally concluded that it must be a woman’s necklace, even though it was rather bulky. It would cover a good portion of her chest just below her neck and above her cleavage, but they could not figure out any other use for it.

What are ye gonna do with it, Pierre? asked Guy, running his fingers through his wavy, brown hair.

Keep it a secret.

"Mon dieu! Why? I betcha it’s worth a lot of money. This could make ye very rich." Guy was already dreaming of the possibilities. He and Pierre could travel and be somebodies in the world instead of being stuck in the village outside Chateau de Saint-Germain en Laye forever. Guy did not want to spend the rest of his life slaving away as a cheese maker. It would be much more exciting being a squire or even a knight on a quest to the Holy Land.

Something tells me I may need it for something important someday, Pierre replied solemnly. So ye need to swear ye will never tell another living soul about it. Swear?

Guy reluctantly promised. He knew Pierre was right; seven years old was a mite young for adventure, so saving the necklace for when they were old enough to leave the village was probably a smart idea.

The boys went to sleep that night dreaming of the adventures the necklace would someday buy.

Chapter 2

Pierre stood alone in the cemetery staring at the headstone. The grave appeared to be new, even though it had been dug over a week ago. Tears formed in the young man’s eyes, the normally bright blue irises darkened by anger, hurt, and sadness. At seventeen, Pierre Tonnelier was an orphan, the owner of the cooperage, and in debt up to his ears. He was not sure if the tears were for the loss of his father or the imminent loss of the cooperage if he could not raise a large sum of money in the next week.

Guy stood in the distance, watching his friend. Pierre had been spending more time at his father’s grave than at the cooperage, and the Bagot family was beginning to worry.

Guy walked over to Pierre, and put his hand on his friend’s shoulder.

Pierre, he began, not knowing exactly how to start the conversation. Pierre, we are worried about ye. Ye spend yer time here and not doing yer business. If ye do not return to making barrels and buckets, ye’ll soon have nothing to return to.

Pierre sighed and stood to his full height of six feet. Guy was just as tall, but broader, with a big neck and some heft on his frame. Pierre was still as skinny as he had been as a child, even though he could easily throw around the boards and barrels of his craft as if they were feathers.

He glanced up at the bright August sky and then looked back down at the small wooden headstone.

André Tonnelier

2 February 1601 - 17 August 1641

He was in great debt, Pierre said simply.

Guy’s brown eyes widened. What did ye say?

I have a week to find enough money to pay off my father’s debts or it don’t matter how many barrels I craft this week.

Guy was surprised. André Tonnelier did not seem like the kind of man who would be in debt. He and his son lived a simple life, and there was always plenty of work to be done at the cooperage. How much?

Pierre told him.

Guy was appalled. "Sàcreblu! Where ye gonna git that kinda money?"

Pierre sighed again. Guy stared up into the sky and also sighed.

The necklace, right? Guy hated to say it, but he knew in his heart that was what Pierre was thinking.

Pierre nodded reluctantly. He could not bear the thought of parting with the necklace. It had been a part of his and Guy’s life for over ten years. As children, they wore it when they played out their dreams of leaving the impoverished village of Saint-Germain en Laye and having grand adventures in the real world. The necklace wrapped all their hopes for a better life into one very splendid package. Selling it to save the cooperage would mean the end to their scheming and dreaming.

We could jes sell it and leave now. Run away from the debt, Guy suggested.

I know. That is what I keep thinking, but then I think of me father and I know I canna jes run away. That cooperage has been in me family for generations. Pierre looked sideways at Guy, the sadness in his eyes very apparent.

Guy swallowed hard, as all his future hopes were dashed to the side. But Pierre was like a brother to him, and Pierre’s problems were his problems. Pierre, he said as he put his arms around his best friend’s shoulders, "we will go to the chateau tomorrow morning. Yer best chance to sell the necklace for a good price will be there. Monseigneur le duc d’Orleans is in residence."

How do ye know that?

I had to deliver a batch of blue cheese there yesterday. The Bagot family made the best blue cheese in the region, and the royals always asked for it when they were in town.

I will sell it, but it will not be easy.

Believe me, Pierre, said Guy as he led the grief-stricken teen away from the headstone, I know more than anyone how hard it will be for ye to sell that necklace. It is me dreams going with it, as well as yers.

*****

The two teens arrived at the chateau early the next morning, Guy sporting a wheel of brie. His mother thought they should at least bring something to sell if they were taking the time to travel all the way to the chateau.

The bursar, Christophe Lefèvre, was happy to see Guy. How did you know I needed brie? You are a mind reader, young Bagot, a mind reader, I tell you! And Tonnelier, this hefty, strong young man cannot deliver a wheel of cheese without support? The balding, well-dressed fat man laughed at his own joke.

Guy and Pierre had been delivering barrels, buckets, and cheese to Lefèvre for years. Their families had supplied these items to the chateau for generations.

Lefèvre and the two young men stood in the southeast end of the courtyard of the chateau. A small outbuilding there served as the bursar’s office. All business in and out of the chateau took place in this office.

Today, Monsieur Lefèvre, I have this to sell. Pierre pulled the necklace out from his waistband and handed it to Lefèvre.

"Mon dieu! Where did you come across this, young man?" asked Lefèvre, shocked that a cooper would own such a fine piece.

Pierre was about to tell the truth when Guy interrupted. It’s been in his family for generations. His great-great grandfather, or was it your great-great-great grandfather? Anyway, it was brought back from the Holy Land by a Tonnelier who was a servant to a great knight. It is a family treasure.

Guy had always been the real dreamer of the two and the leader of their playacting. But as a good follower, Pierre fell into line, realizing the truth might just land them in prison.

It was four great grandfathers ago. Rémy Tonnelier was given this for valor and service to the King of France. They raided an enemy camp, and this was one of the many treasures taken. It has been our family’s pride and joy for many years, and a well-guarded secret.

It does have a foreign look to it. I have never seen anything like it, said Lefèvre, as he turned it over in his hands. I am not sure what you expect me to do with it.

Sell it to one of them, said Guy as he pointed to a gaggle of giggling young ladies walking across the courtyard. "Bonjour! Mademoiselles, ici!" he called out, embarrassing both the bursar and Pierre with his lack of etiquette.

The four young ladies looked over at the grimy, poorly-dressed peasant boys and tittered.

"That is the princesse, and you will address her properly, idiot," admonished Lefèvre, smacking Guy on the side of his head.

Guy’s eyes lit on the prettiest girl of the bunch. He had never seen the French princess, or any princess for that matter, but he assumed she would be beautiful. Pierre focused on a completely different girl, and the bursar, of course, looked at the real princess.

When the fat one with a face full of freckles opened her mouth to answer, Pierre could only swallow and hope that Guy would soon close his gaping mouth.

"Qu’est ce?" she demanded in a tone that was not very pleasant.

Guy’s mouth was still gaping, leaving Pierre to do the talking. "Votre altesse, he bowed as deeply as he could without falling over, may I interest ye in a lovely piece of jewelry from the Holy Land?"

The princess’s beady eyes beheld the necklace Pierre held out to her. She immediately snatched it from his hands and turned to show it to her entourage. The girls formed a circle around her, oohing and aahing over the treasure.

Buy it, bursar, whatever he asks, she commanded over the heads of her ladies-in-waiting.

Pierre had seen the greed in her hazel eyes, and made a bold move. Not only did he ask for enough money to cover the debt, but the price he named would allow him to buy half the block of the village street where the cooperage stood.

Lefèvre did not seem to flinch. He simply disappeared into the outbuilding and returned a minute later with a velvet pouch full of coins. It is all there; you can count it here or count it later. He dropped the heavy bag into Pierre’s open hand.

Pierre turned to the still-astonished Guy and handed him the money. Put this in yer waistband; ye is bigger than me. It was a sizeable pouch, and would make an obvious bulge in Pierre’s waistband since he was so thin. Guy’s bigger bulk would hide it nicely for the walk back to the village.

Guy had just finished tucking the bag into his belt when the demanding princess called to them.

Peasant! she ordered. Put this on me. I cannot seem to work the locking mechanism.

Pierre did not like being called peasant. He was one, but he still did not like being addressed that way. He clenched his teeth and nodded, putting out his hand to the rude princess. She dropped the necklace, now rightfully hers, back into his palm.

He fingered it for a moment, knowing this was the last time he would ever touch it. He ran his fingers over the delicate engravings and touched the stone, making it spin on its invisible axis. As the princess held up her long, heavy, reddish-gold braid, Pierre put the necklace around her neck and latched it.

*****

Pierre immediately felt a tugging as if he were being pulled by a rope around his waist. A fierce wind full of vaguely familiar colors swirled around him. He felt something by his hand and instinctively grabbed ahold of it. He realized it was the princess’s thick braid. Pierre pulled it toward him and grabbed whatever part of the princess he could. He held on tight, as the wind threatened to pull them apart.

Suddenly, the wind died down, and the two French teens slammed hard onto a dirt floor. Pierre had landed first, thus cushioning the princess’s fall.

The princess quickly pushed herself off the peasant and let the profanities fly. Pierre was quite shocked that an aristocrat, and a female at that, could swear so easily and proficiently.

"Sàcreblu, you filthy peasant. What kind of imbécile are you? Zut alors! What have you done, you idiot? Mon dieu! I have never been touched so intimately by a paysan. How dare you treat a princesse so. My uncle will hang you for this insult. Zut!"

Pierre picked himself up off the dirt floor. Finally, he had had enough of her harangue. I would expect less vulgarity from royalty. You must not hate peasants as much as you say, because you talk just like them!

You have no right to speak to me, let alone speak in that tone of voice! I will have the King tear— The princess was interrupted by the loud blast of a horn.

The two young people jumped at the sound and looked around them for the first time. They stood in the center of a circular pit, about fifty feet across. The floor was dirt, but the circular wall was covered with stone. It looked very much like the tower parapet at the chateau. There were openings in the wall, about eight feet across and about fifteen feet up from the floor where they stood. Each opening contained a chair, each different in size, shape, and design. Pierre counted twelve openings. One opening had no chair; another had two tiny chairs. Blue rocks glowed all around the pit and in the openings, providing light to the strange room.

"Princesse, said Pierre, his blue eyes filled with fear. I think we should put aside our differences for now and figure out how to git out of here."

The princess could only nod in agreement. The horn continued to blare, terrorizing her to her very core. She grabbed ahold of the peasant boy’s hand and barely noted he held onto hers just as tightly.

Suddenly, the horn stopped, and they heard movement above and around them. A boy appeared in one opening, holding the now-silent horn. But upon closer examination, Pierre realized it was not a boy but a very short man, only about three feet tall. The little man spoke. ποιοι είστε και γιατί έχετε έρθει. Αυτά Απεσταλμένος Επιμελητήρια είναι ιερές και τους έχετε μιαροί?

Pierre had no idea what the man said, as he only spoke French.

The princess, however, had a vague recollection of the language. She searched the recesses of her mind for the connection as the little man repeated his question. ποιοι είστε και γιατί έχετε έρθει. Αυτά Απεσταλμένος Επιμελητήρια είναι ιερές και τους έχετε μιαροί?

It finally dawned on her that he was speaking an ancient dialect of Greek. She turned to Pierre.

He is saying something like, ‘who are you, and why have you come somewhere in a circle that is sacred?’

The princess, slightly emboldened by the small stature of the man speaking, let go of Pierre’s hand and stepped forward. She had understood the gist of the question, but not every word. She answered in stilted Greek, for she could read the language much better than she could speak it.

"I am Princesse Elise Marguerite Sabine d’Orleans, niece of the King of France. I demand that you return me home this instant or face the consequences of your actions!"

As she spoke, Pierre watched as more figures emerged from the shadows and took their seats. He could not believe his eyes as he looked across the princess’s head at one of the creatures who sat down. He looked like a very tall man, but only had one large eye centered over his nose.

Next to One Eye sat another man-looking creature, but with the bottom of an animal instead of human legs. If Pierre did not know better, he would say the man looked like half a sheep or goat. In the next opening was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. She had an organic, sensual quality that reminded Pierre of a primeval forest.

The next opening held an angel. This lovely being could be nothing else with such a pure face and amazing wings that, even folded, took up the entire space. She was blonde—almost white—and had an unearthly quality about her.

Pierre reached for the princess again and held her arm tight. She did not resist, as she was tiring of the little man demanding information from her. Instead, she looked at her companion and then to where he was staring across the pit. She immediately grabbed him back and tried to bury her very fat being into his very skinny shelter.

There stood a most fearsome beast. It looked like a black bull standing on the hairy legs of a man. If Elise did not know better, she would have thought the creatures of Greek mythology had come to life, as that monster looked just like the pictures of minotaurs she had seen in books. The black beast snorted, and the two French teens jumped in fright. The crowd laughed.

A young woman with iridescent white gossamer wings, pointed ears, and intricate black markings on her shoulders, neck, and cheeks stood to address the crowd. The Shield of the Palidine, she said in a loud, clear voice.

A reverent hush fell over the assembly.

The two visitors could hear the whispers as each creature seemed to repeat what the young woman had said. The Shield of the Palidine. The female wears the shield.

Could she be the Redeemer? asked the goat-man.

Cannot be. She is a human, and the One True God would not send a human to lead us into battle. Humans are evil, said One Eye.

She is too fat and feeble to be our savior. Humans are weak, said a male who was shorter than a human but taller than the little man who spoke first.

Maybe he is the savior, not her, said the beautiful woman in clothes of leaves and twigs.

But she is wearing the shield around her neck! exclaimed the angel.

It must be her, a tiny being with blue skin and colorful wings exclaimed at the top of his lungs.

The Redeemer is to be a strong warrior, not some fat, ugly girl, replied a man that had a horse’s body. He shook his fists in the air.

Elise was confused. She recognized the word shield, but did not know what Palidine meant in Greek. Excuse me, she said boldly in her halting Greek, we do not have a shield. Nor do we have weapons. I demand in the name of my uncle, King Louis XIII, that you let us return to our home.

The creatures began to argue amongst themselves. The princess had heard the angel say the word neck and wondered if the necklace was this shield of which they spoke. She turned to Pierre.

Take it off, she demanded.

Huh? Pierre had not been paying attention to her, as he was focused on the fearsome beasts surrounding them.

"Take the necklace off of me, you imbécile. Zut alors! Can you not take simple orders? Mon dieu!"

Pierre jumped into action. The princess was a mean snob, but she was right. The necklace must have had something to do with transporting them to this strange place. Plus, although he and the princess had nothing in common, they were united in their desire to return home.

She turned around, presenting him her back, and held up her long, strawberry-blonde braid once again. He did nothing.

"Sàcreblu, paysan. Take it off!"

I—I cannot, Pierre stuttered. There was no locking mechanism. The clasp that was there before had vanished.

"Mon dieu! Do I have to do everything myself?" Elise reached her hands around her neck and, with her fingers, followed all along the loops of the necklace. However, she had no more success than Pierre in finding the clasp. It simply was not there. In frustration, she pulled on the necklace to break the chain, but the necklace was soundly fastened to her body as if glued in place. It would not budge. She bent over slightly to force gravity to pull it from her, but the pendant stayed tightly in place.

Kill the boy, said a deep voice.

Elise stopped fidgeting with the necklace and turned toward the deep voice belonging to the black bull. Fear instantly gripped her heart. If anything happened to the peasant, she would be truly alone in this godforsaken place. She had not seen weapons of any kind, but the look in the bull-man’s eyes told her he would have no trouble killing Pierre with his bare hands.

You cannot kill him, she squeaked in her poor Greek. She grabbed Pierre and held onto him even tighter. Pierre had no idea what the beast had said, but judging from Elise’s reaction, it could not have been good. He held onto her tightly.

Why not? asked the little man. He is not needed.

The princess was in a panic. She did not know where she was or who these frightful creatures were. Even though he was a peasant, this boy was her only connection to home.

Why is he not needed? she squeaked in alarm.

There is only one Redeemer. He is not needed if you are the One, said the little man with the horn. The others all nodded in agreement, except for the angel.

He is one of God’s creatures, she said, and may have a purpose unknown to us.

Kill him, repeated the bull.

You cannot, Elise blurted out, her mind struggling for a reason they would accept, because…because…he is my consort. It was the first thing that popped into her mind. She was not sure why, but it seemed like something the assembly would believe, as the two of them stood hugging each other very tightly in the center of the circle.

The crowd murmured and began discussing this new development amongst themselves. Several of the creatures laughed out loud as if Elise had told a joke.

What is happening? whispered Pierre.

Be quiet, Elise snapped. We are in grave danger. She was in no mood to argue with this simple peasant boy in these dire circumstances. She would deal with him and his lack of propriety in the presence of royalty later. Right now, her only concern was saving the boy’s life so she would not be left alone with these beasts.

Pierre was not happy at being so rudely dismissed, but he, too, realized this was not the time to argue.

The little man spoke again. We will let Zeela decide.

The murmuring began again at this suggestion.

Elise thought that waiting for this Zeela was preferable to these horrid monsters killing her only companion right then and there in front of her. Yes, Zeela decides, she agreed.

Lower the ladder! commanded the little man. We will call for Zeela.

The man with one eye lowered a ladder into the pit.

Pierre pointed toward it. "Are we supposed to climb out of here, Princesse?"

She nodded, but her legs refused to cooperate. It was not until Pierre untangled her from him that she realized she could move. She followed him to the ladder and was pleasantly surprised when he bowed and held the ladder for her to climb up first. "Votre altesse."

At least he has not lost all his manners, she thought.

The little man met them at the top of the ladder and led them out of the chamber. The bull-man followed closely behind, snorting at them.

They followed the little man through a maze of darkened hallways until they reached the bright sunlight.

Pierre looked up into the sky, initially relieved to be outside, but then he gasped. "Princesse! Look!"

Elise looked up to where he pointed, and nearly fainted. For there in the sky were two suns, one significantly larger than the other. Wherever they were, it was definitely not France.

Move! snorted the black beast into Pierre’s ear. Pierre decided he really hated that creature. Elise was frightened enough to do as the great black bull commanded. She felt like a prisoner being marched toward her last meal.

They crossed a small grassy area filled with trees bearing strange-looking fruits, berries, and nuts. Pierre realized he was quite hungry, and wished he were back in his simple little cooperage eating cheese and bread with Guy.

As they entered a courtyard, the little man pointed toward a bench along one side. Sit there.

The courtyard was beautiful, rivaling those at the numerous castles of the French king. Each wall was covered by a small roofline which protected the walls from the elements. The walls were lined with mosaics depicting scenes from what Elise assumed was this place’s history. In the middle of the courtyard was a fountain with the statue of an angel in the center. In the angel’s right hand was a broadsword, out of which water flowed. But it was the object in the angel’s left hand that really caught Pierre and Elise’s attention. It was a large shield that looked exactly like the necklace. Elise subconsciously fingered it, while Pierre looked from necklace to fountain to necklace again, shocked that they were identical except for the difference in size.

The beasts lined up to stare at the newcomers, and motioned for them to sit on a bench. The two groups stared at one another.

The little man finally spoke up again. Welcome to Erngari. I am Moaremoff Glano, Keeper of the Emissarial Chambers.

Elise stood up and replied in her best royal tone, "I am Princesse Elise Marguerite Sabine d’Orleans. My uncle is Louis VIII, king of France. In my uncle’s name, I command you return us to France immediately."

Pierre cringed at the demeaning tone of her voice. They did not seem to be in a situation where demands should be made. These creatures held them prisoner, and he thought it would be prudent for her to act a tad more humble. But with a pretentious name like Elise Marguerite Sabine d’Orleans, maybe it was impossible for the princess to be humble. He was not quite sure why she had so many names. Pierre Tonnelier had always been good enough for him.

The creatures broke into laughter.

"You are in no position to command anything, Princesse. But I like your spirit," said the horse-man.

Moaremoff looked at Pierre. And what is his name?

Elise realized she had no idea. She turned to Pierre. Tell them your name.

Pierre Tonnelier, he said simply.

You are human, yes? asked Moaremoff.

Yes, replied Elise as she sat back down. What are you, and all of them?

"I am from the race of