Heal the Lands

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© 2011 Jenn Woodruff. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

First published by AuthorHouse     5/12/2011

ISBN: 978-1-4567-4056-6 (e)

ISBN: 978-1-4567-4057-3 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4567-4058-0 (sc)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2011903041

Printed in the United States of America

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Contents

About the Author

Acknowledgments

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

Dedicated to Sasha, Mishka & Anya,

my sweet little girls,

my joy, my laughter and my inspiration.

And to God, from whom any talent flows.

About the Author

Jenn Woodruff is a loving wife and a mother of four. She grew up in Jacksonville, FL, the youngest daughter of a Navy lieutenant. She now enjoys her home in northern California, where she feels she is on permanent vacation in the mountains. She looks at life as an adventure.

The inspiration for writing this book came from telling her first daughter this little tale for bed one night. Each night the story would be asked for and questions would ensue as to the who, when, where and why of the plethora of characters in this book… three years of questions, answers, writing, re-writing, and the story grew into what you read today.

Jenn wrote this book with her three daughters in mind. Yet she hopes that both men and women of all ages can enjoy the epic journey.

Acknowledgments

Let me just take a moment to say thank you to all the friends and family who helped me with this book. The list is way too long to name them all individually, but I know you all know who you are… To those who endured late-night brainstorming sessions, along with countless hours of listening to me type, who got asked to read and reread chapters time and time again, and who put up with my seeming endless quest to perfect each scene, and pushed me to finally get this published… Thank you. You all made this process fun and exciting.

My deep-found thanks goes to Margo Rees for being my long time friend and now editor. You are the dearest auntie a girl could ask for. Who would have imagined the little girl jumping into your pool would grow up to accomplish this? I would not have trusted anyone more with this project, and I am so blessed to have you in my life.

To my husband, Ben, and my kids, Dma, Sasha, Mishka, and Anya: thank you for your love, support and encouragement in this project. Thank you for each question that helped develop the story, each smile and hug that helped brighten my day. I love you all. I would never have been able to do this without you.

Finally, I give my greatest thanks and loudest praise to God for blessing me daily and inspiring me to attempt this in the first place. You are the breath and life of anything worth doing.

Jenn Woodruff

"Once upon a time, in a land far away, there were two kingdoms which had been at war with each other for ages. Their feud had lasted so long that no one remembered what had started it. The reigning kings were ready to call a truce. One king having had a son and the other having had a daughter, they agreed to arrange a marriage between their children and join their two kingdoms forever. The children were taken to a high mountain that lay between the kingdoms. There the prince and princess were promised to each other and their hearts were forever joined; only in death could their bond be broken and the alliance severed."

Upon returning to their separate kingdoms, everyone was excited and planned for the time of peace, but the princess disappeared. Both kingdoms searched far and wide, but there was no sign of her anywhere. Everyone thought she must have been killed and mourned her passing for years… Until she returned, took her place as Queen, married her prince and healed the lands.

The end, the young girl said with a yawn.

Giving a kiss to her forehead, her father said, It’s time for bed, Little One.

That is my favorite bedtime story, Poppa, she said snuggling into her soft covers.

I know. You ask for it every night.

Poppa, do stories like that come true?

I hope so, Little One. Life would be terribly dull if they did not.

The girl smiled and gave him a hug. I love you, Poppa.

And I love you, his deep voice hushed to a whisper. You are my little princess.

I am not so little anymore. I am almost ten now, she said in a matter-of-fact tone.

That is true. How could I forget? He muffed her hair. Now, it’s time for bed, young lady. He picked up the single candle from the small table, patted her leg, and left the room. Good night.

Good night, Poppa.

Chapter 1

The sun was setting over the distant hills; vibrant shades of red and gold set the sky afire. Tall trees were silhouetted against late summer setting sun. hills slopping down to the southern beach. The water of the rushing river meeting the sea sparkled as millions of flashing diamonds. On the tall wall of the castle, Aster stood gazing at the sunset; her red hair blending in with the sky. She took a deep breath closing her eyes and lifting her chin as if to fly. Amid the color and warm gentle sea breeze she felt at rest. All her worries were carried away with the wind and there was only peace to replace them.

Nestled on the point of a narrow peninsula where a mighty river met the sea, Aldora Castle was perfectly situated for defense. Waves pounded against the tall cliffs at the base of the castle’s southern walls. The other three sides of the castle were surrounded by lavish gardens, and fields beyond that along the northern gate, the main gate.

This was her sanctuary. Up on the high walls of Aldora Castle, at sunset. This was her time of peace to recharge from every day of responsibility and woe. Everyday she made a point to slip away from the world and unwind as her father had taught her. From this spot she was both the secluded dove and the ever watchful hawk, looking out over the fields, forests, sea and river glittering in the peaceful sunset.

It was here that she allowed her thoughts to drift. Living in the castle had been delightful at first, but had long since lost its luster. Queen Kathryn had died a year ago. King Roland still mourned her passing. Of late the king was in a foul temper, since the king had feuded with his son, Prince Cullen and the prince had left on a secret quest. Aster was left to calm the king and care for the people until Cullen returned. She was pleased to help; Roland and Cullen were as close to her as family.

No matter how busy she was advising the king or caring for the kingdom her thoughts wandered back to Cullen. Was he safe? When would he return? What was he up to? She wondered.

‘Cullen will return,’ was all King Roland would say when asked about his son.

Standing there on the castle wall watching day give way to night, Aster felt the breeze begin to shift. Stars began to fill the darkness and the moon was revealed from behind a wisp of cloud. Aster breathed, Another day is done, another just begun. Just then a line of torches below caught Aster’s eye, and the sign that someone approaches from the north.

Aster stood watching from her northwestern corner of the high wall. She distantly heard their request for entrance and the answer of welcome. She saw them enter the outer yard of the castle. A steward greeted them and offered them lodging for the night. Aster then left the wall. She walked down the tower steps; followed the corridor to find King Roland alone in the great hall lit only by a roaring fire in the hearth. Strangers from the north are taking lodging for the night.

I know. I gave the order of welcome. King Roland’s voice was dark and distant. He was a dominating figure; tall, with broad-shoulders, a strong face, and haunting hazel eyes. His mahogany brown hair was seasoned with silver. He sat in a high backed chair gazing into the flames. I have not completely forgotten my manners.

Aster approached cautiously, I meant no disrespect. She saw the kings features soften a bit, What troubles you tonight, Your Majesty?

I miss her, King Roland breathed heavily. The pain of losing his wife threatened to crush this mighty man.

Aster’s heart ached seeing the king so miserable. She longed to find some way of relieving his suffering, for now she could only sympathize. I miss her too. Aster laid a hand gently on the King’s shoulder. She was a wonderful friend, teacher and mother. We will always miss her.

Roland put his hand over Aster’s, still staring into the flames through ever-present tears, Kathryn loved…. everyone and everything… genuinely. I miss that most of all. Roland looked down at the necklace he held in his hand, You become more like her everyday, Aster. She enjoyed teaching you everything she could.

She taught me many important things.

The King’s mood turned ever more dark. Aster, I will be gone someday and it will be up to you to advise Cullen so that he will rule equally with his heart and his mind. I fear he may have inherited more of his mother’s passion than is healthy for a king.

Is that what his quest was about?

No… Cullen had to find the truth for himself.

Find the truth of what?

Roland turned to look at Aster. Her eyes were filled with warmth and trust. He longed to tell her, but it was not yet time. Roland sighed, Himself, as his mind drifted back to the last time he had seen his son.

It was a bright warm day, in the early summer. King Roland had been meeting with his advisers when Prince Cullen had stormed in as if to war.

Father, he had said, a private audience if you please. Roland waved the others off. Cullen continued, Father, I cannot accept it. I must know for certain. I must find out for myself.

Roland had somehow knew in his heart it would come to this though he had dreaded it deeply, I feel your pain, my boy. I too had to go once. The silence had lingered but both men knew it was for the best. Roland walked over to the mantle and took a scroll from a box. This will guide you. Unrolling the scroll to reveal a map, Follow the river. There you will find your way.

Taking the map, Cullen vowed his return. The two men embraced and Cullen left the tower room. After that Roland only saw his son cloaked and riding off with a single trusted man at arms.

The memory dissolved at the sound of footsteps entering the great hall. King Roland and Aster turned to see Gunther, the captain of the guard and Duncan, the chief steward escorting two strangers. One was finely dressed, but the other was dressed not quite so fine. King Roland stood to face the group while Aster took one step back and to the side of the King, folding her hands in front of her and lowering her chin.

Duncan spoke first. His voice as nervous as ever and his body twitched, Your Majesty, forgive the intrusion. May I present, Vildor Gilma, the Ambassador from Boradin. A swooping bow ensued from the finer dressed stranger.

Roland was never impressed with showy men, but he nodded in return, What brings you to Aldora? Roland studied Vildor carefully.

Trade, Vildor answered quickly. I wished to establish trade routes between Aldora and Boradin. His voice was smooth.

Roland pondered the idea for a moment before replying, What would Boradin have to offer for trade with Aldora?

Boradin is rich in mines and forests. Our access to the river makes trade inevitable between our kingdoms, Vildor announced confidently.

Nothing is inevitable, Sir, Roland toyed. This king was not the sort who liked being forced into anything. He had fought for his kingdom and the current peace. He had seen too many men claim something was inevitable, only to see it dissolve into nothing. Yet Roland was a diplomat. Come, gentlemen, I am sure you and your associate are tired and hungry from your long journey. Duncan will see to your needs. We will speak more of trade on the morrow. Good eve to you now. Roland nodded again.

Thank you, Your Majesty. Vildor and the other stranger bowed. Both were ushered out of the great hall by Duncan.

Gunther remained at the door. He listened as Duncan’s voice faded down the corridor, he was giving a history of the castle and kingdom to the newcomers. Gunther then approached the king.

Speak your mind, Gunther, The king ordered.

Your Majesty, I think this a strange band of ‘ambassadors’ from Boradin. As captain of the guard, Gunther was naturally suspicious of everyone. His sheer mammoth size, closed personality and devoid sense of humor completed the portrait of a typical Captain of the Guard.

This is a quick pronouncement, Duncan, even for you. Roland raised an eyebrow, You know so much of Boradin?

No.

Well, neither do I. Roland walked over to the great table and picked up his goblet, it was not long ago I received the first message from Boradin that they were exploring beyond the boundaries of their own country and now we have guests in the castle. He sipped his wine.

What is to say this is not as simple as trade? Aster chimed in.

It very well may be, Roland agreed. We shall watch to see what comes of these affairs. He smiled, a dangerous hint lit his hazel eyes. Gunther, what do you know of Vildor’s companion?

His name is Kale, I believe, the ambassador’s guard. Gunther shrugged.

Aster piped up again, I suspect he has higher rank than is being implied.

Roland smiled, Now what makes you say that?

Tis just a feeling. Aster chewed on her lower lip. Kale, if that be his true name, seems much too old to be a common guard. Perhaps mid forties? If he were, it would say nothing complimentary of the Boradin armies. I mean, are they so desperate for common pawns as to enlist the aged? No. She shook her head slowly, thinking aloud, Too many battle scars behind his eyes. He scanned the exits subtly; too tricky by far. His weapons were hidden; rather than worn openly, save the sword his hand rested on, I could not make out the hilt and he carried himself better than that of an ambassador’s mere guard. Lastly it would be quite costly to dress an entire army in all black. Aster finished and took a seat by the fire.

Observing the lock in Gunther’s jaw, Roland took the opportunity to interject. Very observant of you, thank you. I am pleased we all have determined that our visitors from Boradin are not all they admit they are, but the truth will find its way to light, eventually. In the meantime we will be both polite and cautious toward them.

Yes, Sire, Gunther nodded. I will take my leave now if I may. Good night, Your Majesty, he said bowing to the king. Your Highness. He bowed to Aster and left the great hall.

As Aster saw Gunther leave she felt a twinge of guilt. She knew she had done it again. She had always had a knack for pointing out things Gunther either missed or simply ignored. The truth be told, she highly respected Gunther and his job as captain of the guard to the royal house. Her observations were only meant to help, though Gunther, being fifteen years her senior, did not welcome Aster’s help. It ‘undermined his authority.’ Ever since he had been appointed Captain, his discontent of her had only grown stronger.

Roland sensed Aster’s conflicted thoughts. Gunther is good at what he does, He said taking another sip, he protects the kingdom, and is loyal even unto death. He looked at Aster. He does have one flaw, She did not answer but stared into the flames. Roland continued anyway knowing she was listening,he keeps trying to live up to his predecessor and is failing miserably.

He could see Aster stir at the reference. Our late captain let nothing get past him. He made a point to know everything and everyone. He did it all in such a subtle way that no one really knew what he knew. He even made me feel lost sometimes. Roland took a deep breath, That man had a way of making you trust him. You could tell he knew exactly what he was about to do even when you did not think he could have had time to think anything through.

Roland took another cleansing breath remembering some narrow escapes they had had. His former captain had pushed him off a cliff one time, plunging him into the river, but also scarcely avoiding an arrow. On another occasion he had let an arrow fly just over Roland’s shoulder killing a treacherous lord lurking in the shadows. True enough, Roland could not count how many times his life had been saved by that guard. Then, of course there was the time said guard extracted a confession from a lady as to her lord’s plot against the King.

Roland chuckled, He could be down right dangerous at times and ruthless on occasion. Gunther tries and he is good. But he will not and cannot be the same man. He reached out and touched Aster’s arm. She did not turn away from the flames. So go easy on Gunther. He does need your help, even if he will not admit it.

Aster did not move. She watched the flames dance and listened to the roar of the fire. She suddenly felt lost and alone though her intellect told her she was neither. Thank you, she breathed. After a time she went on, sometimes I feel that I do not make such a good princess.

Roland smiled, None of us are perfect. There are times I am a lousy king and worse, a bad father… Forgive an old man and forgive yourself. He replaced his goblet on the table. The small sound echoed through the great hall. I take my leave now. See you on the morrow, he kissed the top of her head and was gone.

Aster sat alone in the great hall. She continued to stare at the flames until she drifted off into sleep. She awoke suddenly to the hushed voice of a maid, Your Highness, you are needed right away.

Morning came quickly. Kale dressed swiftly to meet Vildor. While he was preparing to leave his room he happened to glance out his window and saw a small garden just outside the south wall of the castle. There were women walking amongst the plants cutting here and there. He picked up his scramasax with belt to complete his dressing. To Kale this was the single most important piece of clothing he wore. Beyond its obvious functionality, this sword was a matter of pride; a piece of himself. It was a gift to him from the King of Boradin upon being appointed to the high-guard of Boradin.

Now dressed Kale made his way to find Ambassador Vildor. King Ollerick of Boradin had ordered Kale to accompany Vildor both to keep an eye on the ambassador and glean any information that could prove useful for an invasion, should the king so choose. Vildor was the type that could weasel his way into and out of any precarious situation, but he was utterly useless at observation and strategy in matters of war. ‘Vildor needed an intelligent military escort.’ Kale would have preferred battle and logistical planning, even further training of the guard, over spying and babysitting some arrogant ambassador; however, he was not one to question his king.

Kale found Vildor still undressed in his room, drafting a message to send to Boradin. Always good to see you before the sun has completely risen, Kale. Next time, though, do be polite and knock before you enter, Vildor began. I know manners are somewhat foreign to you, but now that we are not living in tents and eating like savages try to acquaint yourself more closely with them.

Kale found himself in a quandary over Vildor’s remarks. What was more annoying? He wondered, his overly pompous and self-righteous attitude or was it his overly cheerful vigor and enthusiasm at dawn?

Still contemplating the previous weighty question, Kale responded, Get used to my lack of manners, Vildor, when it comes to your safety. You may be an ambassador with knowledge of manners and words, but I am a high guardsman. You are here to negotiate trade with Aldora. I am here to see that you do not get killed.

Vildor tolerated the fact that he had been pared up with Kale for this trip. It was said to be an honor in Boradin to be assigned a high guardsman; one normally reserved for the royal house alone. Vildor was in no way going to pass up that honor, even if it meant temporarily living with a man as different from Vildor as oil was to water. They could coexist in the same cup without actually having any effect on each other.

Kale’s matter-of-fact yet dark tone sent a slight chill through Vildor. Just do not get in my way and keep your ‘rough edges’ to yourself. Then, looking back down to the message he had completed