The Lost Princess

Chapter Eleven: The Aramgan

Amara was stuffing her belongings into her knapsack. They were breaking camp, and Thorindir seemed anxious to move on. He claimed they were close to reaching Celeblas, and he was itching to reach his homeland.

Amara could not share his excitement. She had never been to the elven woods, nor did she feel any desire to. She had not forgotten the way the elves had stood by and watched Goroth take over Calathil. She had no love for the elves, but she did not hate them as she did the people of her own kingdom for standing by while her family was butchered. She would never forgive them.

Amara stood, throwing her bag over her shoulder. She turned to see Earwen and Kai. The young elf princess was smiling, feeding the huge black stallion carrots from the food supply. Kai was munching contentedly, nickering and snorting smoke rings from his nostrils. The great horse still avoided the other elves, but Earwen, much like with Amara, seemed to be able to breach walls others wouldn't even approach.

Amara scowled and strode toward them. Kai looked up at her approach, still chewing a carrot. He whinnied, voicing his happiness. Earwen turned, spotting Amara, and gave her a smile. Amara sighed in exasperation. This elf girl could suck all the anger out of her with hardly a glance. She gave Earwen a small smile as she approached.

Earwen's eyes brightened at the feeble attempt, and she continued to stroke the enormous horse. "He is the most magnificent creature I have ever seen," Earwen said when Amara was in earshot.

Amara nodded. "The Kasei people were the only ones who could ride them. It was said they learned the magic to wield fire from these great horses."

"Did you learn from Kai, then?" Earwen asked.

Amara frowned, for the question was troubling. "Not all magic can be learned. In fact, some magic can be given. I was given the fire in my veins. It is not there by my choice. It was not always a part of me. It is a mantle and a reminder."

Earwen seemed to consider the words for a moment. "What is it a reminder of?"

Amara knew her expression betrayed the stabbing pain of sorrow that was in her heart. Memories were flooding through her mind. People screaming—a village burning. Smoke filled her lungs; an old man lay dying. He was reaching out to her.

"Amara?"

The lost princess started, brought back from the vision. "Nothing," she murmured, almost to herself. "There's nothing left to remember but Kai. He is the last one. The last kyllaros."

"What happened to them? And the Kasei people?"

Amara looked at Earwen. Her forehead was creased in concern.

"Does it matter? They're gone." She turned back to Kai and patted his neck. He turned his head and looked into her eyes, sensing her regret. He grunted softly, trying to comfort her.

"If you remember them, they can never be gone, Amara."

Amara shook her head. How could she make the elf girl understand that that was exactly why she so desperately tried to forget? But then, the less she told the elf princess, the better—lest she become another ghost to haunt her dreams.

Just then Thorindir's authoritative voice met their ears, calling for the company to move out. Earwen moved over to Boreas and mounted. Amara followed suit. They set out at a brisk pace, and as they traveled on, the Aramgan swamp lined their right. The thick, dark trees emitted a hostile, dangerous aura. The sun was at its highest point and beat down on the company. Even the flowers heads' drooped toward the ground, withering in the heat.

Perspiration beaded on Amara's forehead. She wiped it away so the salty drops wouldn't burn her eyes. No one spoke, and they continued at a brisk pace, eager to reach their destination. But within a few hours, the horses had slowed to a plodding gait, their heads copying the flowers, noses sinking toward the earth.