Defenders of The Sacred Land: Book One of The Sacred Land Saga by Mark Tyson Page A

horseback.
    “Move out!” Rennon commanded as he slightly snapped his reins. Dorenn grabbed the side step rail bar, pulled himself aboard, and seated himself beside Rennon. Trendan galloped ahead, bow by his side and quiver on his back. The two disguised guards brought up the rear.
    As the party left the front gate of Brookhaven, the guard, Thaq, bowed and bade them good riding, and the party of merchants ventured out onto the open southern road to Symbor. For the rest of the day, events unfolded as expected. Dorenn considered jumping down to gather some of the blooming wild flowers for Tatrice but discarded the idea when he realized she would probably reject them since she was still mad at him. Tatrice served lunch, and Rennon watered the horses. After he had eaten, Trendan busied himself with scouting out about a league or two ahead to clear any obstacles from the path and to watch for any suspicious travelers from Symbor. Tatrice still kept her distance throughout lunch, and Dorenn wondered how she could still be mad at him now that she was coming along on the trip. He vowed to ask her when the travelers stopped to make camp for the night.
    The evening sun had barely made its way across the western horizon and the Jagged Mountains still loomed in the distance far behind them when Trendan spotted a suitable camp sight about two leagues farther. It was close enough to the road to afford them shelter under a nice gathering of budding trees and far enough from the road to hide them from passersby.
    As they entered the small clearing, they dismounted and began to make camp. Rennon unhitched the wagon team, and the horses began to graze on the tall green prairie grass from a nearby field.
    The camp setup went smoothly enough; Tatrice and Shey built a small fire for cooking while Rodraq established a perimeter for night watch. Vesperin and the two guards pitched four cloth lean-to tents to sleep under: one for the women, one for Rodraq and the guards, and two for the boys.
    Tatrice and Lady Shey prepared a beef and vegetable stew while the elf maiden made skillet biscuits. Dorenn was surprised that Lady Shey was so eager to help. She did not act like any royalty he had ever seen or read about in stories. She moved with grace but also was not afraid to work.
    “Lady Shey?” Dorenn asked after the party had eaten the hearty beef stew and biscuits.
    “Yes, Dorenn?”
    “I know it isn’t proper to ask, but I was wondering, how did you come to have a fair elf serve you?”
    “Serve me?” With a smile growing on her face, Lady Shey looked at the elf maiden sitting beside her, and the two of them suddenly burst out into laughter.
    “Did I say something amusing?” Dorenn asked, feeling a little foolish.
    “Yes and no, Dorenn.” She caught her breath and inhaled. “I suppose now is as good a time as any. This is Sylvalora,” she said, “but she is not my servant.” She paused to catch her breath again. “She is more like a good friend.”
    “Pleased to meet you,” Sylvalora said in a voice so melodic Dorenn was awestruck for a moment.
    “It seems you have a devious nature about you, Lady Shey,” Rennon stated bluntly.
    “Oh, how so?” Lady Shey asked.
    “You are nobility but now pose as a merchant, and you have concealed a friend masquerading as a servant. What other deceptions have you to tell us?”
    “I am full of deceptions, but your knowledge of them would jeopardize centuries of planning.”
    “Centuries?” Vesperin said surprised.
    Lady Shey winked. “Aye, cleric, centuries.”
    Rennon stood from his seat on a fallen log and tossed his empty plate and bowl into the cauldron of water Tatrice had prepared for the dishes. “I will not sit here and listen to this nonsense. If the Enforcers were around to hear you speak this way, they would take all our heads. Filthy wielders, every one of you!” And he stormed out into the field.
    A somber look replaced the amusement on Lady Shey’s face. “You would