Daughters of Fate Book 2 | An Original Fantasy Adventure

Chapter 17 (5th of Vashi in the year 6199)

And the dark lord Descist sits upon his throne awaiting the day where the power of that which his mother created shall set him free.

Book of the Gods 24:90

As each tree of the forest passed her by, Sheala stared out the carriage window. Memories haunted her as the young woman tried to figure out if she'd seen any of them before, a long time ago. Forgotten by her mind was how much she had neglected to remember, all on purpose, about the previous mission her family had made along a similar, yet different route. Chin resting in her hand, elbow leaning on the sill, the jolting of the wheels from the uneven route did not bother her. It was comparable to being on board the Oracle in rough seas with the way her world, the one small and confined to this four wheeled prison, bucked and bounced.

They had rowed ashore two days ago, meeting up with a contingent sent ahead to provide for her security. Sheala had serious doubts about whether such an outcome was even possible. She couldn't help but calculate repeatedly updated odds in her mind as to her safe arrival to her ultimate destination; the Elven Kingdoms. The seemingly menial task was something she had to commit herself to. If she stopped, Sheala found herself focusing on how truly unprepared for this entire fiasco she was.

"I'm bored," Sheila groaned, kicking the toe of her boot into the door again and again like a woodpecker on a tree. "I don't understand why I can't ride." She leaned out the window, able to see Reane conversing with both Anthony and Gregory about something. The rebel rode a little too tightly at Reane's side, failing to disguise his desire to be close to her.

"This is for your protection," Brentai reiterated, for the fifth time. "Besides, there aren't enough horses. And I don't think it would be a good idea to ride while wearing such an elegant dress." He regarded Sheala as the entirety of her body language displayed how uncomforted she was by his words. Her fingers fiddled without pause or interruption at the blue fabric of another of her new dresses, every so often changing to picking at the golden barrette holding back her hair. "It's only a couple of days. Just relax."

"Relax." She repeated the word with a less than enthusiastic hiss. "I can't relax. I feel so-," she gripped her stomach as nausea crept over her, "-so confined. I can't go on like this." Big green eyes stared at Brentai. They were bottomless wells, portraying without a word how deep the chasm of her pain really was.

"Take it easy, sweetheart."

"Easy for you to say." She returned her attention to what was going on outside the carriage.

"Maybe you should try to get some sleep? You haven't even closed your eyes since we left the Oracle. And you sure didn't sleep much during the trip. I had to hear every morning from the crew how you walked the deck like a zombie in the middle of the night."

"Because I can't sleep. There's so much going on in my head. I still can't figure out where my life went wrong."

"Who says it did?"

Sheila sighed. "I do." She touched the silver medallion hanging about her neck. It was uninviting and devoid of the warmth she wanted it to have. Wearing it forced her to recall how many nights she had cried herself to sleep missing her sister, father, and mother.

"Maybe you shouldn't try so hard to please other people, Sheala. Don't let guilt and ghosts tell you what to do."

Sheila turned her eyes down to the floor as she pondered his words. "You think I'm doing the wrong thing, don't you?"

"Personally? Lord Hedric's never done a thing to me. Sure, he might be stern at times, perhaps even tyrannical when it comes to dealing with these rebels, but that's all leaders. Kings, Queens... even the Sovereigns who lead the tribes of my people. But one thing he's done, that the leaders of my lands didn't? He's let me be. And that's all I ask. This whole thing with the Rebellion and Lord Hedric is all just a holy war. And I for one wouldn't want to get involved."