Chapter 10: The Plan

Anaya

“Anaya, my child, wake up.”

Anaya opened her eyes painfully. Her head was in her mothers lap. A sore throb echoed from the back of her head. Anaya sat up and felt the back of her head only to find warm blood.

A hard bang came from outside the tower and Anaya realized she was still holding part of Nasacha’s shawl and the knife.

“Mother help me.”

She pulled at her mother’s arm who helped her to her feet. With dizzy steps, Anaya reached the wall where the brick was gone. She looked around for the stone and then realized it was still attached to the window bar ten feet above her. She put the knife in the hole anyway, pushing it back as far as it would go. It was hidden just enough for now.

“Someone’s coming.” A villager called, frightened.

Anaya threw the shawl on the floor among the other scraps of clothes used as blankets. The door was thrown open and the half awake villagers scrambled out of the way of the Vers who came into the room. He threw the preacher's daughter aside and when he spotted Anaya his eyes narrowed. He grabbed her by the back of her collar and dragged her away from her screaming mother and sister.

The young girl's mind was still trying to come out of a haze but she kicked and struggled anyway. She moved so much that Vers had to pick her up and throw her over his shoulder. She thrashed against his back but if he felt anything he didn't make it known. They reached the top of the stairs and she was blinded by the early morning light.

“I didn't do anything,” Anaya cried.

The rebel carried her quickly through the camp. Anaya had a million thoughts in her head about trying to escape. Nothing came to her fast enough and suddenly she was in another stone building not unlike the one she was held prisoner in. This one was filled with lush furniture and paintings. Her transport came to a halt and she stopped struggling to catch her breath.

“Please put her down so that I might see her.” A voice ordered from behind the man who carried Anaya.

She was lowered gently into a velvet covered chair. She dared not move as she heard the soft footsteps of someone come around the chair. It was a tall man with a long beard tied into a braid. On his head he wore a crown that was inset with an emerald.

“She does look remarkably similar. This plan might work after all.” His soft voice was a surprise coming out of a body so large.

Anaya recognized him. He would often watch over the proceedings of the camp from his balcony in the fort. He called himself The Warlord.

“Let me see your face child.” He held out his gloved hand and when she did not move, he took her chin and turned her head to carefully examine her. “Yes, very close but not exact. She will have to do.”

The leader of the rebels waved his hand to the shadows and Vers returned into view. The guard threw a body at her feet and Anaya stifled a scream. Nasacha’s body lay before her, her blood still fresh and a dark crimson color leaking across the stone floor.

“It is a pity. Our guards mistook her for one of the prisoners.” The Warlord said.

The princess had been hit in the middle of her back with an arrow. Her eyes were open, unblinking. Her veil had been torn off somehow and she now lay in her truest form. Anaya couldn't help but kneel off the chair and take a closer look.

“Astonishing isn't it?” The Warlord said, watching her examine the body. “She looks a lot like you. You could have been sisters in another life.”

Anaya did not say anything in response and sat back in her chair.

“We know that you tried to help her escape, for that you and your family should be executed.”

Anaya felt a tremble down her spine, but she gritted her teeth and did not move from her position. The man before her smiled. He grabbed a tea cup from the tiny table beside him and took a tantalizingly slow drink.

“But,” he said, swallowing, “since the princess is dead, we have another job for you.”

“What makes you think I will agree?” Anaya finally spoke, her voice hoarse and foreign.

The Warlord's smile vanished. He waved his hand and Anaya's sister and mother were brought from a hidden door. They were placed at the rebel leader's feet, and before Anaya could twitch, he drew his sword, placing it at her sister's throat.

“Wait!” Anaya said, falling to her knees once again. “What would you have me do?”

“Ah see now that you understand the stakes, I will tell you.” The rebel sat back in his chair, but didn't let go of his sword.

“You will infiltrate the royal court of Dermnith and give us information about how they plan on attacking and any other information we deem necessary.”

Anaya could not take her eyes off her mother and sister. “How will I do that?”

“By becoming the princess Nasacha.”

Anaya met his gaze, shocked and confused. He grinned back with white teeth like a lion. He stood suddenly and paced around the three of them on the ground.

“Think of it,” he became excited, throwing his sword over his shoulder, “you will pose as the princess and with her veil you will look exactly like her.”

“They will know I am not the true princess.” Anaya knew if she was caught she would be killed. There would be no question about that.

The sword was at her throat, the tip barely touching her skin.

“I know you are smarter than you let on.” The Warlord bent to her level. “You will become the princess, or I will kill everyone that is left from your village. Starting with your mother and sister.”

He stood and waved his hand and the Vers took her family away. Anaya watched them go silently as they screamed for her. She took the discarded veil that lay next to Nasacha’s body.

“Tell me what I must do.”