The Cho Nisi village of Nico stretched along the western coast where white sandstone cliffs provided homes carved directly into the bluffs. Harsh weather seldom plagued that part of the island, and so the residents never needed to seal windows closed but kept them open for fresh sea air and sunlight. Atop the cliffs grew forests of pine, olive, and pomegranates. Wild salmon berries lavished the hillside. The islanders harvested fish, shellfish, wild fruit, millet, and olives. The natives traded for wool and linen from the Moatons, the immigrant village surrounding King of Cho Nisi’s castle but unlike the modest immigrants who wore only browns, grays, and other natural hues, the Cho Nisi dyed their fabrics with stains made from mollusks, rose madder, and wild mignonette.

Arell enjoyed hunting with the elders. Occasionally men from Moaton would join him, but the immigrants hunted primarily on their own, choosing beasts from the forests rather than sea life.

On the same day of his escapade with the Potamian princess, Arell hiked to Nico with Silas and the tribal elders to discuss matters of his father’s death, the war against the skura, and the threat of a war against King Tobias.

As he sauntered along the grassy trail, Arell pondered over the possibilities the small band of intruders presented. The appearance of the princess both complicated matters and provided potential solutions. A young and lovely princess, though gusty. It made no sense that her father sent her here without enough troops to back her assault. Was she simply a rebellious little firefly acting on her own? He smiled to himself as he walked, thinking how foolish she looked, and yet how…delightful. Perhaps she needed a good scare to teach her a lesson. If he kept her here, he’d ask Serena to give her a lesson on grace.

More seriously though, the murder of his father happened under the charge of King Tobias, and if the princess came under his instruction, Cho Nisi faced a grave threat. Despite a spirited daughter, no greater a king had reigned in Potamia than the Tobias family. Celebrated kings from a legendary dominance, their stories had spread even as far as a remote island in the Nisi Sea, leaving Arell puzzled over whether the princess was simply a warning, an omen, or a fluke.

Arell refused to act without the elder’s wisdom and blessing. Silas called for this council, and so Arell followed the chief across the countryside from the castle to the beach.

The sweat lodge was located in a cove on the trail to the village. Here the elders often discussed the pressing matters that faced their people. Arell had attended a few of those assemblies with his father. Today they would meet in the sweat lodge. The chief believed purifying the body would create a healthy atmosphere and generate wise decisions.

Rocks were already roasting in the sand pit when they arrived, and heavy blankets sealed a driftwood hut. Burning sandalwood filled the cove with a thin haze of smoke as a gentle surf rolled onto the sandy beach, stopping at the sweat lodge’s threshold.

“Our king!” Though he wore no smile, Abenda, an elder, met Arell and Silas with a bow as the two descended the rocky trail. “The lodge is ready for you. Lagan and Ral are inside.” Abenda handed Arell a linen cloth like the one he wore around his waist and then dipped into the lodge. Chief Silas undressed and followed him. Arell unbuttoned his doublet and hung it carefully on the branches of a willow. He shivered, chilled in the cove’s shade where the rocky bluffs absorbed the sea spray and cooled the air. He undressed completely and wrapped the linen around his waist. When he pulled the blanket that served as the lodge door aside, stepped in, and dropped the mantle, hot air hit his body. A strong incense mingled with the smell of sweat.

“Watch your feet,” Silas warned as Arell stepped carefully around the pile of glowing rock in the center of the hut. He slid onto the bench against the adobe walls, blinking in response to the darkness. Before his eyes adjusted to the dark, someone ushered him onto the bench and other bodies moved aside for him. The beat of a drum claimed attention as a few men hummed quietly. Someone splattered drops of water on the rocks, filling the room with steam and accenting the delicate fragrance of myrrh.

“We invite the Creator of our world in this assembly,” Silas chanted as he tossed more incense onto the glowing rocks. The men sang together. The drumbeat grew louder, and perspiration and condensation trickled down Arell’s body. They stayed like this for well over an hour, chanting, singing, and sweating. When the rocks cooled, Abenda stepped outside for more.

“What is your decision, King Arell?” Silas asked. Though men older and wiser than Arell occupied the small enclosure, Silas reminded Arell that the burden of the island rested on his shoulders. Arell tried to see the chief’s expression in the light of the glowing rocks, but either the man wore no emotion on his face, or the darkness of the sweat lodge prevented him from reading the chief’s sentiment.

Arell thought for a moment, careful to form his words. “I must interrogate these invaders before I lead our people into a war we cannot win.”

Someone grunted in disapproval. Another elder took a stick and rearranged the stones in the pit. Abenda entered the lodge with a spade piled high with scorching rocks. A breath of cool air followed him until the blanket dropped. Soon, heat saturated the small space once again. Arell wiped the sweat from his brow, and someone passed him a cup of water.

“We don’t have all the details and it’s not honorable to begin a war on assumptions,” Arell defended. He took a drink and splashed water on his face.

“Why did this woman come to claim your throne, Arell?” Abenda asked.

“Perhaps King Tobias wasn’t aware that my father had a son.” He handed the cup to Silas. “My father’s affairs were not mine. The mistake would be understandable.”

The chief grunted thoughtfully.

“I believe with the right questions this princess will provide us some answers. If she refuses to talk, perhaps her friends will. Let’s not deduce for ourselves what King Tobias has intended, not if it means war.”

“You sympathize with our enemy too much,” Abenda mumbled.

A lull in the conversation suggested tension. The accusation didn’t sit well with Arell. The drummer continued beating; the rocks cracked under the heat, and an occasional splatter of water touching the fire sizzled.

Abenda cleared his throat. “We have no concern for King Tobias’ intentions. Cho Nisi Elders demand retaliation, Vasil King of Cho Nisi,” Abenda reminded him. “King Tobias must deliver the murderer into our hands. We demand justice. That’s the only way to satisfy Cho Nisi. Blood for blood.”

Arell nodded, contemplating the man’s words. The request did not sound unreasonable. He, himself, would like to lay eyes on the man who killed his father.

“And if the king had ordered it?” Arell asked.

“Then we declare war.”

The pain of his father’s death had not diminished, but his people wanted retribution. They would settle for nothing less. His heart also yearned for justice, but without innocent people paying the price. Still, how is it justified that a king of a great nation such as Potama order the death of his father? Where had King Tobias shown mercy? A powerful kingdom crushing a powerless crown seemed inexcusable. How could he pardon a rich and prideful nation who defeated a serene and humble people?

Arell loved the Cho Nisi people.

He loved his father.

“Very well. Until we deliver this message to King Tobias, and he responds, we will make captive of the people who invaded the island. No one is to harm them.” Arell looked up. His vision had adjusted to the dark well enough that he noticed their faces and the whites of their eyes.

“We shall treat them as guests,” Arell said.

Chief Silas cringed and shook his head.

“It’s the only way they’ll be truthful with us. Perhaps they have the answers we’re looking for. Maybe they can give us the name of the man who killed the king. If we aren’t fairly civil to them, we’ll never find out.”

The men grunted, but among their mumblings were sounds of agreement.

“It shall be so,” Chief Silas said. “You can have your prisoners. He glanced at Arell. “You can be fairly civil to them,” Silas added with a half-smile that suggested he understood Arell better than Arell knew himself.

Someone sprinkled more incense on the rocks, and the fragrance mixed with steam entered his lungs. Arell wiped sweat off his forehead and Abenda stepped through the door and pulled the blanket away. Cool air beckoned them outside. One by one they filed out of the sweat lodge naked and dove into the ocean. The shock of cold water after being so hot numbed Arell, and he laughed. Once bathed, the men dried themselves around the campfire and dressed.

“I would like to speak with you alone.” Arell requested of the chief when they began up the trail. Silas nodded, and they walked side-by-side back to the castle. The late afternoon sun sparkled on the high plateau. Mountain flowers bloomed, and yellow monarch butterflies floated from one blossom to the next, gathering nectar. The island sparkled with beauty this morning. He couldn’t ask for a more serene environment to live in. Though he’d been nowhere else, he had no desire to leave Cho Nisi.

“We’ll need someone to return to the mainland and present a message to King Tobias,” Arell said.

“Yes. We will. However, the warriors are angry,” Chief Silas argued. “Also, we spotted the black demons on the horizon on the eastern shore. Skura. We’ll need our warriors to keep vigil.”

Arell kicked stones along the trail, eyeing the view of the hills and the sea beyond. Turquoise blue waters surrounded them in all directions, and where the sea wasn’t visible, shimmering white leaves of olive groves patterned the hillside. “There are two men with the princess. One of them is a wizard. He stays. The man who pulled the boat ashore can bring a message to his king.”

Silas grunted again.

“Or the Cho Nisi warriors might take him there. Let King Tobias figure out how to send us his answer. We’ll keep his daughter hostage.”

Silas nodded, pensively. “You’re young. Too trusting.”

“How so?”

“A wise king would imprison your messengers, or kill them, and send an army. This is not a wise choice.”

“Then what is?”

“I can’t tell you how to be king, Arell. I can only offer wisdom. But if you insist on my advice, give the young man one of our boats and send him back by himself. Give him the message to take to the king. Tell him we don’t want violence, but we demand the murderer. If King Tobias did not order your father killed, he will bring the man forward. Otherwise, let him make the first move toward war if he wants his daughter. After that, wait. Be cautious, mindful, and patient.”

“Splendid. Have a boat prepared immediately.” Arell agreed.

“Arell,” Silas stopped him and looked into his eyes as if something bothered him.

“What?”

“Be cautious.”

“Of course.”

“This young woman. She’s attractive.” Silas tapped a fist gently on Arell’s chest. “Guard your heart. You don’t know her. You have no understanding of her plan.”

Arell, puzzled, nodded. “Of course, Silas. I’ll be careful.”

Silas grunted as if Arell didn’t believe him. Arell sighed and walked on in silence.

The trail ended at the cobblestone road into Moaton. The streets were quiet, as they usually were late afternoon. Dinners were being cooked, families gathering for the evening. With the rumor of war and sightings of skura, shops closed early and most everyone slipped indoors before dusk. Even Arell hurried his steps toward the palace as if he had an unspoken warning. Chief Silas kept pace with him.

“Capture the visitors immediately and bring them to the palace. Inform the residents here that there are strangers wandering about. Make certain they keep their word to do no harm.” Arell instructed.

“I will see to it,” Silas assured him.