Eaglethorpe Buxton and the Elven Princess, Wesley Allison [good book club books TXT] 📗

is only for show. There is no real justice involved.”

“I know what a show trial is,” said I. “I’ve been in enough of them.”

The two hundred or so elves in attendance watched mutely as I was dragged back to the cell in the cave and left there once again. All in all, it was hardly worth being dragged to the glade in the first place. They could just as easily have told me I was guilty and condemned to death right there. Sitting down, I leaned against the wall of the cave and winced as my back came into contact with the stone. After a few minutes the king appeared outside the bars.

“Why bother with a show trial that lasts three minutes?” I wondered.

“As I said, it is for show,” he said.

“But why? I never kidnapped your daughter. I was helping her come home.”

“Yes I know. It’s her punishment. She needs to learn that she can’t run off. There are consequences. Your trial and your execution tomorrow morning will remind her of that fact.”

“You’re going to execute an innocent man to make a point to your daughter?”

“It’s not as though you were an elf,” he said. “You’re only human.”

Chapter Nineteen: Wherein I make an escape, a plot element that I normally wouldn’t reveal, but you know that I am alive anyway because I am telling you the story.

I was given another bowl of the delicious mush, which I ate, this time with more difficulty because my back really ached when I bent over to eat like a dog. I certainly didn’t sleep though. Oh you can be sure of that. I didn’t sleep. Knowing that you are going on trial in one hour is not nearly the cure for sleepiness that knowing you are to be executed in the morning is.

“Eaglethorpe,” a voice called.

I turned to see Jholiera bathed in the light of the setting sun as it diffused through the trees. She was no longer dressed as a boy. She had on a leather dress cut in an elven style with a leaf motif carved into it. It left her shoulders bare and though her form was slight, there was no longer any question that she was a young woman. She had golden jewelry on her arms and a delicate golden crown on her head.

“Eaglethorpe, how are you?”

“I’ve a pretty nasty stab wound in my back, and my arms are aching from them being tied behind me. I think I skinned my knee when I was trying to eat from a bowl like a dog, but there’s no way to check. Oh yes, and they are going to kill me in a few hours. Other than that, I’m fine.”

“Come here, close to the bars.”

I did as directed and she reached through the bars and cut the bands that were holding my wrists together. My muscles cried out as blood rushed back into them, and a shooting pain went from my back straight into my heart.

“I think I shall die before they have a chance to kill me,” said I. “Serves them right.”

“Don’t say that. I’m going to get you out of here.”

“How?”

“I’ll be back after midnight. In the meantime, try to get some rest.”

“You have no idea, girl,” said I, as she went off into the trees.

Remarkably I did sleep this time. I must have. I don’t remember falling asleep or even sitting down. But when I was awakened by small pebbles hitting against my face, I found myself sitting against the wall of the cave.

“Ow! Stop it,” said I, as one of the small pebbles hit me in the eye.

“Quiet you,” said Jholiera. “I’m almost ready to rescue you. Get over here and wait by the cell door. You have to be ready at a moment’s notice.”

“Why aren’t you rescuing me now?”

“I don’t have the key yet.”

“You don’t have the key?”

“Calm down. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

She did return, but it wasn’t in a few minutes. It was quite a bit later. In fact, by the time she did return, I was beginning to fear that the first rays of predawn light might make escape impossible. But when she arrived, Jholiera did have the key. She quickly opened the cell door, and taking me by the hand, led me through a maze of trees. We hurried around massive trunks and over fallen logs, through curtains of trailing vines, until we came to another small glade. Here was my beautiful steed, which is to say Hysteria.

I can tell you I had a hard time saddling my horse due to my injury. But with the elven princess’s help, the deed was soon done. As I prepared to mount, Jholiera stopped me.

“Thank you Eaglethorpe,” she said, and gave me a tender kiss on the cheek.

“You are coming with me, aren’t you?” I asked. “You can’t live with such a horrible father, or marry such a horrible husband.”

“Don’t worry. My father is not so bad. And Iidreiion probably won’t want to marry me anyway after he finds out what I had to do to get the key away from his cousin. Besides, I’ve had enough adventuring for now. I just want to stay home and be safe.”

With that she gave me an even tenderer kiss on the cheek. I climbed into my saddle and took off through the woods, just as the early dawn was beginning to break. And I never saw the little elven princess again.

Chapter Twenty: Epilog.

Three years after the events in this tale, I was sitting beside the fireplace in the Singing Siren Tavern in the city of Antriador, having just finished telling the tale of Eaglethorpe Buxton and the Elven Princess, when I heard a voice calling out. “Gah! You are the worst storyteller ever!”

It was Jholiera. She was no longer dressed as an orphan boy. Nor was she clad in her leather elven-style princess dress with a leaf motif carved into it, and lots of gold jewelry. She was dressed as a traveling warrior, with armor carefully tailored to her short and feminine form, and a sword on her back that was nearly as large as she was. Her golden hair, now almost reaching her waist, was styled into dozens of thin braids, each adorned with beads of bone and ivory. She threw her arms around me and pulled me close in a tight embrace, then released me before continuing.

“You are the worst storyteller ever. None of that was right-the pies, the goblins, the elves. None of it happened that way at all. Only that bit in the Inn with Ellwood Cyrene was remotely true. And I most certainly did not kiss you. Not even once.”

“A little romance makes for a better story,” said I.

“I’m surprised you didn’t have me throw myself at you.”

“I had to keep it proper,” said I. “You were dressed as a boy most of the story.”

“Come here, you great fool,” she said, and taking my face in her small hands, she pulled me down to her eye level and kissed me, this time deeply, on the lips, and with great passion. It was such a shock that for a moment I couldn’t speak.

“What are you doing now?” she asked.

“I am pondering a new ending to the story.”

“You’re not thinking of making up an ending where I show up in a tavern dressed as a warrior and, taking your face in my small hands, I pull you down to eye level and kiss you, this time deeply, on the lips, and with great passion, are you?”

“Of course not,” said I. “Perish the thought.”

THE END

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Wesley Allison (seen here with Cissy the Iguana) lives in Henderson, Nevada with his wife Victoria, daughter Rebecca, and his son John. He has taught English and History at B. Mahlon Brown Junior High School for fourteen years. Eaglethorpe Buxton and the Elven Princess is his sixth novel.

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