Jazmine: The Latanica Saga

Prologue

The Mystic

In a distant land, deep in the midst of an ancient forest, he sat hunched over a large pile of dusty scrolls while his eyes scanned the beautifully written prophesies. The scrolls were written in the ancient tongue of the legendary Mystics—masters of the sword. The shadow of a small flame, cast off from the stub of a candle, danced on his wrinkly face as his long fingers swirled above him sparking off bursts of Łi ǵ h ʈ . He wore a long, midnight blue robe that obscured him from head to foot. Perched on his white head was a tall, wide-brimmed hat that completely covered his features, manifesting a ghostly look.

Beside him, leaning against his high backed chair was a staff. The beautiful, ancient wood glowed in the small light of the candle and a pale blue ball graced the top. Energy, lightning, and power crackled within the ball’s glassy surface.

His name was Ffafgen and he was waiting for her—the Maiden—the one who would free his enslaved home. He knew she would come, for the ancient writings said she would. She would seek him out to learn from his extensive wisdom and skill. And he would help her prepare for the difficult trials that lay ahead of her.

A gentle knock on the door interrupted his thoughts. He looked up and peered through his wise grey eyes that sat underneath bushy eyebrows as a young boy of about fourteen entered. The old Mystic beckoned the boy as he hesitantly walked through the massive ebony door frame. He bore a wooden tray laden with a steaming cup of mint tea and two light cakes spread with wild honey.

You’ve been in here for hours Ffafgen, he said, setting the tray down on a small stool. I thought you might be hungry.

Thank you my son, Ffafgen answered while rolling up his scrolls.

Lunar has returned with news from Tarius, the boy said, stepping back near the door. Malcus has just—

My boy, Ffafgen interrupted. Please do not speak to me of those matters right now, for I might lose control and set the roof on fire again, he finished, smiling thinly.

The boy chuckled at the memory. Of course sir.

After a moment’s pause the old Mystic looked up. Has there been any word or sightings? he asked.

No Ffafgen, there has been no word… do you think she will come soon? the boy asked, taking a bold step into the chamber.

The old Mystic smiled. Oh yes, she will be here soon. He paused, then slowly moved to stand by a tall window beside his desk. Outside the window a light sheet of blue rain fell amidst a blanket of cool fog. Ffafgen smiled again, Yes, she will be here very soon indeed…

Chapter 1

Old Latanica

I hardly remember Latanica in its golden age—the time when King Darius IV and Queen Glory ruled with their child, Prince Jarus. All that I can recall are hazy images of a time and place full of color and Łi ǵ h ʈ  . . . of a beautiful young woman gazing upon me with sadness and wonder written in her violet eyes… of a time when all creation roamed the lands without fear of death. Actually, the only clear visions I have of Latanica are painted by the stories and poems that Ava tells me with her mysterious and colorful words.

Ava and I are slaves to the cruel and heartless ruler Malcus and his evil daughter Dravia. We toil day and night in what was once the beautiful palace of Latanica… now called Tarius.

Many years ago, before I was born, Malcus and his huge legion of things that prowl the night crashed through Latanica—conquering it, killing it, and enslaving it. Among those killed were the kind and generous King Darius, the beautiful Queen Glory and the rightful heir to the Latanican throne, Prince Jarus.

It has been almost twenty-five years since and the once beautiful Latanica has all but vanished. Its forests, beautiful valleys, and majestic waterfalls have been replaced by foreboding forests, thorn-filled valleys, jagged mountains, and countless miles of swamp—all formed into one dreadful existence… Tarius.

Many creatures escaped, but those who didn’t became like Ava and I… slaves.

I sighed and wiped my wet brow with a foam covered hand. I heard a light padding of feet and looked up to see a hunched woman walk through the narrow doorway. Many creases lined her heart shaped face while her silvery hair was wrapped into a small knot on the back of her head. Bones showed plainly through her pale skin, but when I looked into her emerald green eyes, a youthful fire burned brightly behind them, just waiting to be released. She is Ava, the palace cook, who I gazed upon with the reverence due a mother.

The imprisoned life she led had done nothing to quench the headstrong powerful lady that taught me everything I know. She had never told me what kind of life she led before Malcus came. Whether she was royalty or peasant I suppose I’ll never know. But judging by the way she holds herself, she must be someone of adventure and respect, or even royalty and power. I sometimes enjoy making up a past for her, but I never tell her about it, for she would probably just frown and say, What’s past is past love, no sense trying to make it up or change it, for then the past is nothing but that; a made up fairytale.

That was Ava, but when she wasn’t correcting, she was encouraging.

She smiled wistfully at me as she entered and softly uttered my name, Min, before walking over to a large pile of vegetables set on a low wooden table. I then turned back to the iron pot that I was scrubbing.

I groaned inwardly as a sharp ringing filled the kitchen, bouncing off the stained walls to rattle in my eardrums. I wiped my hands as my fantasies of Ava disappeared and I hurried out the door and jumped up a dark flight of stairs. I slinked silently through the shadows so that I wouldn’t be seen by the monsters that roamed the castle. I stepped in front of a massive wooden door, tapped it three times and was answered by a sharp, drawled out command. I stepped into the richly furnished chamber and hurried to stand beside a reclining, stick-thin figure. It was Dravia, Malcus’ daughter—my master.

Dravia raised her head and narrowed her heavily painted blue-black eyes at me. Her eyes weren’t fully human, although I thought she was. Her eyes may be the right shape and her irises the normal color, but her pupils were tiny slits, like those of a snake’s, and they unnerved me. What took you so long! she hissed. Oiled black hair fell to her shoulder blades and thin, deathly pale grey lips pulled back behind tiny, glistening white teeth. A sturdy gown fell in slight tatters around her and a large crown made out of sparkling black gems sat on her head. Its tall spires twisted around themselves and pierced the air like three black lances.

I remained silent.

She waved her hand lazily toward the fireplace and I scurried to obey, not wanting her wrath to be released upon me. Grabbing the bronze dustpan, bucket and small broom, I hurried to the fireplace and knelt down. While sweeping the ashes into the pan I created a small cloud of grey ash around me as I worked. I felt Dravia’s penetrating stare boring into my back as I continued to work with head bowed.

Get my cloak, slave, Dravia commanded icily.

I dumped the last pile of ashes into the bucket and walked to the giant, ornate, cherry wood wardrobe. It might have been beautiful once, just like everything else in this castle, but now it was dull and grey with rust gathering around the bright metal that held the dusty jewels. No matter how many times I polished and dusted this room, I could never get it fully clean.

Selecting a stunning silver cloak, I pulled it out and walked back over to her. Her piercing blue-black eyes followed my every move.

No! The gold cloak you useless lump! she growled when I began to drape it over her bony shoulders.

I dropped my head and sprinted to the wardrobe again. I rummaged through her many cloaks until I spotted the gold one.

If you don’t hurry up, slave, I’ll have Ax whip you so hard your grandchildren’s backs will bleed… if you live long enough to have some anyway, she added, chuckling lightly as her unnerving eyes stared at me with a new bloodthirsty glint. Dravia may be human, but sometimes she acted no less savage than the other monsters that roamed her father’s castle.

I gritted my teeth in controlled anger as I draped the shimmering cloak over her shoulders. Dravia started enforcing my slavery the day I turned three years old. Even at such a young age, I quickly learned that if I didn’t wan’t to feel the pain of her slaps, than I would have to do what she said.

The year I turned five was when I first heard about the Łiǵhʈ. Ava had explained to me that the Łiǵhʈ was a supernatural power given to certain beings by the Creator. This Łiǵhʈ is only bestowed upon the most pure of creatures. The Łiǵhʈ is harnessed and used by tapping into that store of goodness deep in the Łiǵhʈened one’s soul. It takes a virtuous being to control the Łiǵhʈ, but if the Enłiǵhʈened person uses the power for personal gain, then the gift will self destruct, for the power can only be used by a person of pure intentions.

Malcus had a sorcerer, but Ava said he did not use the Łiǵhʈ, for he had not been blessed with it. Instead, he used black magic stolen from Gall, emperor of the underground realm. Fueled by envy of the ones who possessed the Łiǵhʈ, he used hatred to control the dark magic.

Slave! Dravia hissed.

I quickly finished smoothing the glittering gold fabric out around her and stepped aside, still harboring the thoughts of the Enłiǵhʈened.

The tyrant waved a bored hand at me as she stood up and walked to the long narrow mirror by the fireplace. She tilted her head back and smiled at her dark reflection. If you weren’t born a dumb slave and could think, wouldn’t you wish you were as beautiful as me, Min, she taunted, using my name for the first time while raking long-nailed fingers through her raven black hair.

I let my eyes drift halfway closed so that I wouldn’t be able to see her ugly face and then clenched my fists to my side. Although I tried to will it away, I still felt a crimson blush begin to creep up my thin cheeks.

Dravia whipped around and glared at me with pure hatred burning in her strange eyes. But then her face fell into an emotionless mask as she gruffly ordered me to clean her chamber and flutter her gowns and cloaks. She took one more look at herself in the mirror, nodded in smug satisfaction, then swept out of the room.

I glared stonily at her retreating back before I forced myself to push aside my feelings of hatred toward her. Ava said hatred was a life in itself, and if you let it enter you, it will intensify and eventually control you. It would corrode your whole mind and soul, making you no less than the ones you hated in the first place.

I looked around the chamber at the numerous array of wardrobes lining the stained stone walls and groaned. My shoulders slumped as I glanced at the cracked mirror and my reflection gazed sorrowfully back. My lightly tanned skin pulled tightly away from my prominent cheekbones. Coffee colored hair hung jaggedly to my narrow shoulders and over large, dull forest green eyes. Tattered rags hung over my tall, sickly thin body and my small pale lips pulled down in a frown.

I dropped my gaze away from the mirror and looked down at my thin but strong calloused hands. I may not be beautiful, like Dravia likes to remind me, but at least I wasn’t evil. I sighed and picked up the bronze bucket.

It’s only at the end of a long and hard day that I seem to finally relax and enjoy myself. It’s at that time that Ava tells me the wonderful and forbidden stories of that once Enłiǵhʈened kingdom… Latanica.

One night, when the day’s work was done, I was leaning against the wall and staring into the leaping flames of the fire. I could hear the soft clinking of iron pans as Ava put them away. And in the distance, the roars and snarls of Malcus’ creatures and an occasional clash of steel against steel sounded. We slaves had a name for all of Malcus’ many species of monsters. It was mälkriss, which Ava said meant creature of terror in the ancient tongue.

The flames from the fire cast flickering shadows on the stone walls making the dim kitchen feel slightly more alive than it was. I uttered a long deep sigh and started stroking the soft grey fur of my pet mouse Gana, which simply meant grey in the Elvin language. I was glad to finally be at rest.

Ava turned to me as my sigh reached her ears and with a slight furrow between her eyebrows she suddenly murmured, You know Min, we may not be slaves forever. There is a prophecy, ‘By the hand of a woman Latanica was lost, and by the hand of a woman it will be freed.’ It is said that the woman will be a young maiden, and when she frees Latanica, all the Latanican creatures will return.

I slowly raised my head to look at her with longing written plainly on my face. To be free? Free of pain and terror? Free of wondering whether or not I’d live to see the next day? Free of Dravia?

Oh Ava, do you really think it can happen? I whispered softly.

Yes, my darling. I think it will happen. And I think it will happen in our lifetime, she replied gently, looking at me with soft, moist eyes.

I jumped slightly as something seemed to flash in her eyes, something fierce and knowing. Will you tell me the prophecy? I asked hastily, averting my eyes. It was not the first time that Ava had looked at me like that and I had wondered about it before, but had never gathered up enough courage to ask her about it.

Of course love, Ava answered, wiping her hands and moving to sit beside me. She put her thin but strong wrinkled arm around my shoulders and pulled me close. Leaning in to whisper softly in my ear she began, "It goes like this…

In the time of summer gold when the wheat ripens,

The destiny of Latanica will form as the sun heightens.

The darkness and evil will change for some,

Because a young Maiden will come.

With long shining hair whiter than snow,

Crowning her head will be a circlet of gold.

With violet eyes more radiant than the sun,

No power will stop her—she will come.

While riding a magnificent steed; white on white,

In her wake shall be a cat, blacker than the night.

She will carry in her heart all wisdom and reason,

And in her hand a staff—The Lily of Seasons.

She will travel to many places and discover many things,

Receiving aid from creatures that only few have seen.

She will undergo many trials and face many fears,

But she will still come, for she will persevere.

And with the help of many friends,

She will overcome tragedy.

Driving all darkness from Latanica,

She will restore its former majesty.

The Prophesy… It had a mystical ring to it. The Maiden… the one who would set us all free. I wondered if I would be able to see a glimpse of her face someday; to see her white hair cascading over her shoulders and her violet eyes smiling down on me with her warrior’s sword pointing us Latanican’s to victory. I had always hoped that I would live to see a day like that.

I hope she comes soon, I sighed, leaning into Ava’s arm and looking back into the flames.

Chapter 2

Meetings and Spies

Later that night when I knew the horde was sleeping, I went to visit my two elf friends, Alvinia and Alvord. I brought a slice of bread, half an apple, and a few crumbles of cheese that I managed to smuggle from the kitchen. It was dangerous to take even a crust of bread… some of the mälkriss were smarter than they looked.

As I walked through the castle, I carefully picked my way through the hideous sleeping forms, trying not to gag at the awful stench that they poured forth as they snored and gnashed their gristly teeth.

There was only a short time in the wee hours of the morning when a slave could find all the mälkriss spread throughout the castle in a restless slumber or an inebriated state. They loved the darkness of night and cowered from the light of day. Tarius was almost always under a constant blanket of dark clouds blocking out the sun and when there wasn’t clouds, there was fog. Even though Tarius was always dim and gloomy, most of the mälkriss preferred to stay inside the castle or deep in caves and tunnels during the daytime hours. Then they slowly crawl out, blinking their windowless eyes as twilight begins to take its toll on the little light that pierces through the dark ceiling of clouds and fog.

Geïa was what we called all of the kingdoms. And she was made up of four of the existing Realms: the realm of the land, which was called the Da’Uhrr. The realm of the sea, which was called the Aɭanu. The realm of the sky, and Gall’s kingdom, which lay underneath the crust of the Da’Uhrr. And as I carefully dodged a thrashing mälkriss I decided that Tarius was the most vile place in all of Geïa.

Finally, I was out in the fresh evening air. I breathed in deeply the untarnished oxygen with my shoulders sagging as I closed my eyes and raised my face to the pale moon above. Light, wispy grey clouds covered the sky like a few strands of a pale spider’s web. The silvery moon cast long, pale fingers of light on the dark stone of the Tarius castle and the black forest surrounding it as I crept out of a small servant’s door. Looking down, I saw my friends waving to me through the thick iron bars of the slave pen.

"£ila tᵾl Suri ashê, Min, over here!" they whispered in greeting as loud as they dared without waking up the guards who were slumped over their weapons while dripping drool over their sharp canines that jutted up and over their lips.

Alvinia and Alvord were brother and sister. Alvinia was my age and Alvord two years younger. Like most elves, they were tall and slim, but strong. Light golden-brown hair fell past dark sky blue and grey-green eyes. Their pale skin practically gleamed in the moonlight and long, narrow limbs poked out of tattered brown rags. Long, gracefully pointed ears emerged out of their silky hair to quiver slightly in the cold air as I approached.

Keep your voices down! I whispered harshly. Do you want the entire castle to hear you?

We’re sorry, Alvinia whispered apologetically, putting a pale hand in front of her face in embarrassment.

My eyes softened. It’s all right.

Did you bring some food? asked Alvord hopefully, his thin hands clutching the cold bars of the pen.

Of course I did, I answered, looking at their pitiful frames with concern. They were so thin—too thin, like everyone else in this sad kingdom.

As I handed the poor elves their meager portions, I looked at the other sorrowful creatures behind the bars, wishing I could steal food for all of them.

Even though I was very thin myself, being the cook’s helper gave me the opportunity to get more food than the other slaves who worked in the fields or mines. I grimaced as I recalled a recent memory. Quira, an old hag, had noticed bits of extra food disappearing and almost had Ava whipped because of it. I don’t know what came of it. Maybe some powerful force had helped us somehow. Being so old, Ava might have died from the whipping.

Min, did you know that some of the slaves are having secret meetings? whispered Alvinia, bringing me out of my revere.

No, I said, perking up, wondering why they had suddenly become so bold. What are they about?

The slaves are planning to escape! Alvord whispered, pausing slightly from his rigorous chewing while his big eyes grew even larger with excitement.

I took a small step back, my eyes growing wide in amazement. Many slaves had tried to escape before, but they all ended up with the same fate: tasty morsels for Malcus’ bloodthirsty pet dragon. I shuddered as I thought of the last slave who had been caught trying to escape. We were all forced to watch helplessly as the dragon relentlessly tore the screaming fox girl apart.

Yes, said Alvinia continuing, all the elders have brought the more able bodied slaves together and they are talking about escaping. They are also discussing getting an army together to come back and free Latanica.

What about the Maiden? I asked with some surprise. Isn’t she the one who is supposed to free Latanica? At the mention of the Maiden’s name I began dreaming again, as I had often done since hearing the prophesy. It would be so wonderful to see the one who was prophesized to free us, or maybe even to serve her somehow. Maybe I could be her weapons bearer…

I don’t know, answered Alvinia quietly. It’s been almost twenty five years. I guess they’re tired of waiting.

Well, if we’ve waited this long, don’t you think we could wait a little longer? I asked.

Alvinia gazed at me with eyes that had seen too much for her young age. Do you want to wait any longer, Min? Do you want to slave some more? Do you want to wait any longer for a person that we’re not even sure exists?

I hung my head with those questions swirling around in my head. No, I said slowly. I don’t want to wait in fear any longer… but I do want her to come.

We all do, Min.

All this time, Alvord had been nodding his head vigorously, listening thoughtfully to Alvinia and I. Finally he said, The next meeting is tomorrow at midnight, in the farthest corner of the pen. If you want to you can come.

I’ll try, I answered, with a new glint in my eye, banishing the worries and dreams of the Maiden from my mind (for now). It sounds exciting. It’s about time someone did something besides getting killed by the mälkriss.

I agree, replied Alvinia, nodding her head while nibbling on a crumble of cheese. We’ll see you here tomorrow night.

I’ll be here.

Remember to bring some food, Alvord called out softly as I carefully started back to the kitchens.

The next evening, while the slaves were being herded into the pens for the night, I quietly slipped into the crowd next to Alvinia and Alvord. They looked as tired as I felt.

Earlier that day, after serving Dravia her meal and cleaning up for the night, I somehow convinced Ava that I would be okay in the pens, and that I would be safe. Well, a slave’s life was never safe—far from it actually. But I promised that I would be careful and not let myself get nabbed by some nasty, hungry monster. I knew when the guards had consumed all the liquor they had stolen from the cellars, and were thus too drunk to notice anything. She had finally agreed, and so there I was.

I’m glad you could make it, Alvinia whispered after we were a good distance away from the guards.

Yeah, said Alvord, It wouldn’t have been the same listening from outside the bars.

I nodded and smiled at him as I slipped a few berries into his small hand. His eyes grew wide in delight and he smiled at me before looking around cautiously and then popping them into his mouth. Ĥala, he whispered.

When I got in the pen, I immediately walked to the corner by the river. I didn’t want my back turned to the ogres who were watching us. Ogres may be dumb but they are dangerous. They were known (as were the majority of other creatures) to snatch slaves through the bars, tear them out of the pen, and gobble them alive while they screamed for mercy. I sat down on the dirt and pulled my knees up to my chest.

My eyebrows furrowed as I heard a low hiss start to rise behind me. It faded but then began again. I slowly turned to see a deathly pale, wiry figure rise out of the dirty water. She narrowed thin, wicked eyebrows at me and hissed again through yellow fangs. Greasy hair fell down over savage black eyes and cascaded over her bony back like a wriggling mass of worms—a siren. Her eyes locked onto mine and her skeletal grey lips curled back from her fangs in a gristly smile.

I shuddered, standing up while grabbing a rock and throwing it at her. She swiftly dodged it and walked a few steps onto the muddy bank with her thin, tattered garments trailing behind her. She grinned again as a beautiful, unearthly sound poured forth effortlessly from her lips.

A dozen heads lolled the siren’s way and eagerly moved toward her. I gritted my teeth together and locked my arms to my side, trying to resist the siren’s alluring song. A steady fog began to roll over my conscience, slowly unraveling my thoughts and judgment. Against my will, I felt myself gliding with the other slaves, wanting to get nearer to the creature as my mind went blank. I walked slowly forward, wanting the gifts she was promising in her beautiful song—gifts of freedom.

I heard a whip crack.

Get away from them slaves! a werewolf guard howled at the siren.

As her singing abruptly stopped, I blinked my eyes and shook my head to fully break the trance. I was slightly confused at how she was able to entrance me so easily. Did I want freedom so much that I would listen to the lies of a siren?

The siren’s head rolled to the werewolf and she hissed warningly through her fangs. I may do as I please beast! Stay away from me or I will sing you to the ends of Geïa, to the FIRE CREATURES!

The werewolf did not subdue, but swiftly walked up to her and swung a jagged, curved sword. She let out a hoarse scream before it was cut off forever as the werewolf’s sword plunged into her narrow chest. She crumpled back into the water, her eyes clouding over in death. Blue-black blood poured from the wound in her chest, painting the water in a deep expression of inky death. A dozen goblins, catching the scent of fresh blood, ran over and enveloped her corpse, tearing it to pieces within seconds.

I turned away from the gruesome sight, shaken by a knowing fear as the howls and hisses pierced my ears unbidden while the goblins scrambled for her remains.

I moved to the center of the pen and curled into a tight ball beside the other slaves. Cold sweat ran down my back as I witnessed the horrific scene, and I wondered if it was a good idea to come here after all.

Suddenly, there was a howling command. All of the slaves jumped up and eagerly watched as two hags walked up bearing a steaming caldron of mush between them.

I eagerly joined the other slaves, digging my hand in the mush and gulping it down. I had only eaten one slice of bread before I was hauled off to the fields, and they only gave me one small cup of water all day, and even that was at the highest sun.

I turned and saw a small form covered in blankets.

Why isn’t Willa eating? I asked, licking my fingers.

A young satyr began to cry. Poor Willa died last night, she sobbed. And it was my turn to watch her. She began to shake really hard, then suddenly went very still!

I stilled in shock, and then anger flared up inside me as Alvinia put her arms around the shaking satyr. Willa was only ten years old—just beginning her life!

With my eyes bone dry, I looked at the still form of the tiny faun as I thought with a heavy heart, When will this misery ever end?

At midnight, Alvinia quietly shook me awake. As I cleared the cobwebs out of my head, I saw that she had already woken Alvord. As I looked around, I noticed other slaves waking up and silently making their way to a small light in one corner of the pen.

I blinked my eyes and watched as my breath turned into fog. I shivered while noticing small piles of frost that had already gathered in the corners. The iron bars that surrounded us had turned a light blue. I looked overhead and saw the silver moon; almost at its fullest. The blue-white beams sprouting from its sides streamed in through the tattered canopy that covered the top of the pen.

As we neared the dim light, some of the older men and creatures had already begun talking.

We need to act now! I heard a bold young man named Kato cry, shaking a scared fist high in the air.

No! growled an old elf, the wisdom of many years shinning in his large eyes. We need to prepare and wait patiently until the time is right.

I agree with Timberline, said a talking badger, baring his teeth at Kato in disapproval. We need to gather supplies and wait until Malcus disembarks with his sorcerer on one of those raiding parties. Then no one will be around but his royal brat, with only part of his horde.

Has anyone escaped before? asked a young female elf, her pale skin gleaming in the dim moonlight. I remembered that she had been brought here a couple of months ago by Sly’s slaving party.

Yes, replied Timberline, A daring young boy named Adrian.

My skin prickled as I remembered Adrian. He had been a very kind but brash boy about two years older than I. I remember the day that he disappeared. I recalled being shocked and sad that day and for months afterward. He had been part of the team that would scale the craggy sides of the Linor mountains, looking for gems and precious stones. He had been like a big brother to me, promising that he would always be there to protect me. I didn’t know that he had actually escaped—I was happy and proud of that fact. Prince Jarus was the only other person that had ever escaped, and we weren’t even sure if he had made it past the forest. My face spread into a wide grin as the news soaked into my head… he’s alive!

He even promised to come back someday and help the Maiden free Latanica, whispered Timberline thoughtfully, gazing into a time that only his mind could return to. His head snapped up and the cloud in front of his eyes cleared. But that was almost three years ago now, he added hastily, trying not to build any one’s hopes up too high.

Shouldn’t we have some sort of connection with the outside? said a young girl with silky blue hair, bringing the crowd back to the present. I know some people have decided to stay and live in the forest. Maybe they can help us slip past the guards?

Great minds think alike Breeze, said Timberline, who seemed to be in charge of the meeting. Actually, I had already thought of that, so I took the liberty of inviting Shade.

A gasp went up from the crowd. I strained my neck to see and started with surprise. Right beside Timberline, a strange creature seemed to materialize out of the shadows. It appeared to be a very tall person with grayish blue skin and black greasy hair. Covering his thin body was a long black cloak, and prodding out from under the cloak were two large, flat webbed feet. Small narrow eyes blinked slowly as he surveyed the crowd. My eyes widened when I realized what he was—a wraith.

I will do whatever is necessary to help you good creatures escape, he said with a surprisingly deep voice. A bone handled dagger suddenly appeared in his hand.

Shade is the leader of the rebel band that lives inside the woods. He will organize his people with enough weapons for us to safely escape. But to ensure our clear passage, we need a spy from inside the walls to cue the right time to make our exit, said Timberline, his pale green eyes flashing as he surveyed those around him.

Murmurs went through the crowd. They all knew that perfect timing was necessary for a clean break and so they needed a spy within the walls to help pinpoint the right time to escape. That would be exceptionally dangerous.

I knew danger. I lived with danger. I wasn’t afraid and I wanted to help… and I wanted to be free. I stepped forward and said, "I work inside the castle walls. While I go