Faeryn knocked lightly upon her brother’s door.  She knew that at this hour he would be deep in studying lessons of his own.  Whenever Faeryn saw him she was glad that she was not destined for the throne, for who could envy him the many hours of study that were required every day?  Besides the basic affairs of court, he had study battle plans, the use of weapons, the complete history of Orotaek and the surrounding nations, how to command men, how to raise or lower taxes, how to set up a draft when needed, how to attack an enemy’s castle, how to defend one’s own castle, the proper incantations to use when venerating all the gods, the proper ceremonies, what honors to accord a knight for brave service…the list went on and on.  Faeryn was glad that she only had to learn the basic knowledge required to become a counselor to the king.  Being an inquisitive person who enjoyed learning, she had picked up a lot of what her brother knew without being taught it, but that was different from being forced to learn it.  He was given strict tests every day to make sure that what he was learning was always at the forefront of his mind.  Being a woman might have some disadvantages, but she was grateful for the freedom she had.

            Eranhart opened the door, and the light from is study lamp spilled out into the hallway.  The light coming from behind was not enough to illuminate his face, but his silhouette looked hunched and tired. 

            “Eranhart,” Faeryn whispered, “I need to speak with you.”

            “Faeryn,” he said, just realizing whom it was, “Come in.”  He stepped aside to make way for her, and when she stepped past him he closed the door.  Faeryn turned toward him and studied his face, unable to discern from his expression whether her interruption was welcome or not.  Perhaps he himself was still trying to figure that out. 

            “What is it you wish to speak to me about?” he asked. 

            “I…I’m leaving.”

            “Leaving???”

            “Leaving Orotaek.  Eranhart, I went to talk to Byerron – “

            “That treasonous scoundrel who was imprisoned today?!”

            “Yes – no, I mean, I was there, and he isn’t like that!  He only cares about the people and sees that they are oppressed.  Any other ordinary person could have said the same thing and gone home a free man.  He says that things are changing here, and that Orotaek is growing darker, and that our father is under the influence of a sorcerer!”

            “That can’t be true!  Our father is a just and good man; he would not become a puppet of some religious manipulative priest.”

            “But Eranhart, our father imprisoned Byerron simply for saying the people were oppressed!  What if he is right?”

            “Faeryn, you are listening to the rumors spoken by a wandering troublemaker.  You are my sister, and I will not have you follow him into the wild simply because you feel that he might be right.” 

            “Oh, but Eranhart, if you had only been there!  He talked of his god, and he said that there is only one God, and that we have all been walking in darkness!   And he said that his god actually spoke to him, when he was in the mountains!  Oh Eranhart, to have a god actually speak to you!  I want that more than anything else in the world!  I asked Byerron to take me to his god, and he didn’t want me to go at first!  He said that it wouldn’t be right, a man traveling alone with a woman.  Does that sound like the kind of man who would lead a girl astray?  But I told him I would help him escape if he would promise to take me, and he finally said yes.”

            Eranhart’s eyes narrowed.  “This is foolishness, Faeryn.  Gods don’t speak, and we are not ‘walking in darkness’, whatever that means.  We make sacrifices to all the gods, known and unknown; we have priests and seers of every kind, and enough books of wisdom to fill a dozen rooms.  No, if anything the light shines in Orotaek.  You shall not go with the man who speaks such folly!  I will prevent it!”

            “Eranhart!”  Fear gave a harsh edge to Faeryn’s voice as she realized that it might have been a bad idea to come to her brother, who could easily bring her before the king and accuse her of treason.  Then she would never be able to go.  “Eranhart, you stop and think for a moment!  You are denying all of this is false without even investigating it!  You still haven’t answered my question; what if he is right?  Wouldn’t that really put us in a bad position, if there really is only one god and we deny his existence?  And how can our father be just if he threw Byerron in prison?  You are avoiding the point!  This isn’t like you, you should be listening to me!”

Eranhart turned around and walked away from her without answering, but then unexpectedly he turned back. 

            “I will come with you to see this man,” he said.  “Then I will judge for myself whether he is honorable or not.”

            Faeryn lead the way, feeling less apprehensive about the journey down to the dungeon now that she had her older brother behind her and a glass lantern in her hand to illuminate the previously dark and ominous passageways.  The realization that she had nothing to fear on this journey through the castle flooded Faeryn with relief.  She dared not think ahead to Eranhart’s meeting with Byerron, lest worry crowd out her momentary peace. 

            The guards at the dungeon were less suspicious and far more respectful when Faeryn came down the last stairs, leading the real prince Eranhart.  Both guards kowtowed before the future king of Orotaek and hastened to open the doors for him, paying little attention to Faeryn beyond a respectful nod. 

            Faeryn strode quickly down the corridor to where Byerron was, and Eranhart was not far behind.  Byerron was kneeling in a corner of his cell.  He looked up when Faeryn approached, and when he saw who she was leading he rose hastily to his feet.  He bowed deeply before Eranhart, in his gentlemanly way, but he did so in such a way that he seemed to maintain his own dignity while doing so. 

            Silence followed as the two young men studied one another through the bars, a small glimmer of kinship in their eyes.  Both were between the ages of twenty and twenty-five, and life had already laid heavy responsibilities upon both their shoulders.  Neither was inclined to think of the other as less than himself, for they saw in each other the same solemn, dignified responsibility: one standing proud in the glory of his future kingship, and the other resolute in his status as the prophet of a God who claimed to be the only God, and determined to follow Him, though the cost be death.  Finally, however, Eranhart turned away, as though he couldn’t bear to look at Byerron any longer.

            “You may go with him,” he said to Faeryn.  “He is an honest, upright man.”  Eranhart looked one last time at Byerron, who stood silent in his cage.  In that moment Eranhart’s face betrayed more pain than Faeryn had ever seen in her brother.  

            “More so than I,” Eranhart murmured to himself, and he turned away without having spoken a word to Byerron. 

            Faeryn let her brother walk down the hall alone, and she stared after him, not sure what to make of the whole situation.  She turned to Byerron, and found that he was also watching Eranhart leave. 

            “He is close in coming,” Byerron said suddenly, half to himself.  Faeryn looked at him quizzically, but he gave no explanation.  After a minute he turned and walked to the other side of his cell, as if he had forgotten Faeryn altogether.  Faeryn watched him resume his kneeling position on the floor.

            “Byerron,” she said, staring at the floor, feeling that somehow it was wrong to stare at him as he knelt on the floor.  She couldn’t explain the feeling, but she sensed that whatever he was doing was not for her to know. 

He looked up.  “Yes?”

She raised her eyes to him.  “We leave tomorrow night.  I’ll try to have everything ready.” 

He half-smiled.  “Good.”

Byerron turned his face away from her again, but still Faeryn lingered.  She didn’t know what she wanted, really.  Encouragement, advice…anything.   The planning of a grand escape was left entirely to her, Faeryn, a sixteen-year-old princess who knew almost nothing of the outside world.  Anyone who helped her could be convicted of treason.  She had never felt so utterly alone. 

Byerron ignored her, whether intentionally or not, she could not tell.  She was forced at last to return to her room. 

She slept little the rest of the night. 

**Note: As my story is still in the making, all names, places, and events may be subject to change.** Copyright 2008 Cherise A. Do not reproduce at all without my express permission. If you like what I do, you can link to me instead.