--see Raenora Excerpt 1 before continuing. : )

'Raenora? Raenora, please child, wake up.'� A throaty voice murmured, bringing her out of her silent reverie. Her eyes fluttered open and slowly adjusted to the dim light that fought its way through the grimy planks of their moving prison. Raenora tried to focus on a single point on the opposite wall, but her vision blurred and a pain lanced through her head, making her gasp and bring her callused hands to the sides of her face.

'That brute gave you good knot, child,'� the older woman said, smoothing the hair gently away from Raenora's brow.

'Ema.'� The girl breathed, only then recognizing the warm body supporting her small form and the familiar aroma of sage and lavender that momentarily covered the acrid smell of sweat and fear.

'Yes, yes, its Ema.'� The exhausted woman smiled down weakly upon her delirious charge. Thank Melindor she was alive!

'I wish I could have salvaged my herbs before the fire'�mayhaps then I would have something for that head of yours. I am certain it pains you, you would not wake for two days.'�

The girl sat upright, the shackles grinding against the swollen skin over her ankles.

'Two days?'� she cried. 'We've been traveling that long? Where are we going? Who are these people?'� It was only then that she really looked to the faces of her fellow captives; though it was apparent they were all from far reaches of the realm, one thing was certain, they were all lost. Greasy, lank hair covered cuts and bruises and the defeated looks within their eyes. Some clung to each other, exhausted from crying tears for those that were gone. Others were wide-eyed and staring as if they could see through the walls and over the unforgiving mountains to their destination, and it appeared to Raenora that they did not like what they saw.

'Victims of King Jenthun, that's what they are.'� Ema spat, keeping her voice low as she rocked side to side as their wagon jostled from the uneven road. 'I never thought it would come to this in my lifetime, I thought the pacts would stand'�I thought'�'� she shook her head. 'Your father was right.'� Her determined brown eyes welled with tears, but they did not spill down her weathered cheeks, creased from a life filled with mirth and many days of hard work under the harsh Legaalan sun.

'What do you mean, my 'father was right?''� Raenora turned to face the brown-haired woman at her back, her father's ghostly words still echoing in her mind.

'You are too young for this ki''

'Too young?'� she interrupted, 'I'm here, aren't I? I am alive, same as you, being shipped off to who knows where. I have the right to know more, Ema.'� Her thin lips were set in a determined line, her eyes challenging. Ema met those hard emerald eyes and sighed. How do you explain the corruption of men's hearts to a child, even one so wise as Raenora? How do you explain the rhyme and reason behind the atrocities of war? How do you talk of death to a girl whose great father just passed on? The girl must have seen the deliberation going on behind the dark eyes of her older companion.

'Ema'�please.'� Ema placed a hand to her moist brow, dragging it down the side of her face until one side seemed completely lifeless, her fingertips clinging to her once-supple skin. She glanced around to those shackled to her left and right, wondering how much they knew and what they themselves believed was marring their land. It wasn't something the elders discussed with children'it was if passing the knowledge to the younger generations only ensured the continuance of their suffering. She finally mustered the courage to begin.

'Hard times are ahead for our people, Raenora,'� she glanced to the other prisoners, 'For all the tribes.'�

'Even the Eltantri?'� Raenora asked, eyes wide. The Eltantri were the fiercest of the tribes, and the most exotic. Raenora had never seen one in person, but the stories of their battles were her favorites growing up.

'Even the slender giants will feel the power of the king's hand, I'm sure of it.'� Ema closed her eyes and turned away.

'But why? I thought the high council and the king were friends?'� she rubbed her wrists absently, her eyes fixed on Ema's face, unwilling to look away, not wanting to miss this chance to learn more about the strife of her people.

'Allies, you mean? Ha,'� Ema scoffed, 'My dear, King Jenthun has tolerated our kind all these years because he found that he could use us, he needed us; he learned of the ancient magik that flows through our blood, your blood, and of our ties to the Great Mysteries.'� Ema's face grew dark as she continued, 'He has tried to manipulate us with his talk of trade and 'education'� of our young. Bless your father for keeping you younglings out of the cities and away from the king's men.'�

Raenora shuddered, she heard grim tales of girls who were sent to be 'cultured,' they came back ghosts of their former selves, renouncing their heritage, and desperate to bring others back with them. It was as if after trying to destroy the Lironti and other peaceful tribes passively, the king had to resort to this, their present situation, whatever it was.

'But if King Jenthun wants our secrets, why is he killing so many of us?'� The girl was blunt, she always had been. Ema stared at her for a few moments before swallowing and continuing.

'Nobody knows what it is that Jenthun wants, or who he's trying to get it from, but it is evident that someone amongst us has angered him. He strikes at us now'who knows when it will end, or what will stop it.'� She sighed and looked up at the ceiling, 'enough of this talk, child, enough.'� The strips of visible sky shown that it was overcast again, promising more than rain.

'My father will set things right.'� She yawned, leaning back against the woman who had raised her alongside her father. Ema shook her head, poor child, speaking of her father as if he could save us from his grave.

'Of course he will, Raenora, of course he will.'�

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