Part 1 Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

 

 

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s they pass through the street on the other side of the gate it bustles with activity; children are playing games running up and down the street creaming with pure joy. The more adult civilians are walking either alone or in small groups discussing whatever pleases them and shouts come from ledges high above. Some notice Olraym as they move along and stop with a face of pure amazement; unlike those at Waylorne these people recognize him. More and more recognize him until the street is almost entirely quiet. Olraym says nothing but is now insecure, he isn’t expecting this.

  “I think we should speed up.” Says Olraym his eyes never leaving the quiet peasants around him. Relon calmly does as asked, the horse trots forward to where the street ends then, with Relon’s command, turns left to a less occupied street. Olraym relaxes as he loses sight of them and turns back to look forward again. “Why were they like that? They looked at me like I was a monster!” Relon glances back to Olraym, and then stares ahead again.

  “I’m surprised you know what that looks like.”

  “I’ve been around; I’ve seen people who came out of Divinwood.”

There is a few long seconds of silence.

  “No one here has seen you for many years my lord, how else should they act?”

  Olraym shrugs as the horse takes another turn. “I don’t know but not like that.”

  “Hmm, perhaps we should go back and inform them.” Relon says with a wide gleeful smile. Olraym’s eyes widen.

  “No, no, keep going.” He replies quickly. They enter another street; this one with a different kind of activity. This is men shouting at the top of their lungs about produce they are trying to sell; foods, fabrics, high-priced items. This street has men and women going as fast as they can to buy first before others do. The smells of meat and fruit permeate the air; some fresh, some not. This is the markets, at least part of it. Olraym remembers the market place stretching for two square miles and is never quiet. There is always something someone wants.

  In another ten minutes they leave the markets far behind and see in front them the entrance to the castle in the centre of the city. The castle itself is large and extravagant but modestly so; the colour is the same as the rest of the city, it is the tallest building but not by much and instead of a pointed top it has a large tower that ends with a ball-like structure covered in red diamond-shaped tiles. There is a large window seen at the front of the structure, Olraym knows it to bed the king and Queen’s bedroom. The central tower is connected with four smaller but equally impressive towers, each instead of a ball have same-coloured points at the top. The front part of the castle (where Relon and Olraym are moving towards) sticks out from the rest; it has large tall arching double-doors, the structure itself goes high and ends in a triangular point where about on a flat walkway a small garrison of royal knights stands tall watching for trouble. The guards watch their approach and Relon slows the horse, he glances off to the side and watches the bright sun as it is on its way down. The two guards at the front gate lower their long shiny spears, blocking the entrance. There is a moment of silence as the guards glare with suspicion at Relon, Olraym, whose face is hidden behind Relon, flexes his neck to the side, revealing himself to the guards. They instantly recognize him and almost too quickly to control they raise their spears. Olraym gets off the horse with some help from Relon, who leans down to him.

  “This is where we part my lord…for now” says Relon and gestures to grab his arm. Olraym takes in and nods, knowingly.

  “Until next time” replies Olraym. Relon turns the horse away from the castle and rides it off to the far left. The guards at the door shout at those above to open them and to inform the royal family of Olraym’s return. The doors open and Olraym enters.

  The inside of the castle is more extravagant than the outside; the ceiling of the entrance hall is immensely high, with six floor-to-ceiling pillars, covering the length of the hall. On each of the pillars there is a torch (unlit for the moment) and there is a dark red banner with a golden symbol on them dangling from high above. The symbol is a large circle balancing delicately on a tiny triangle. Olraym knows this symbol represents the overall duty of the king of Tov’ra; to seek balance for his land. He has always tried to discover how this is done; his father seemed to be good at it, but so far has not. There are several long but thin windows on the right-hand side of the hall letting the sunlight stream in. At the other end of the hall is another door at the centre of the wall. This one is smaller and simpler.

  Before Olraym gets to the small door it slowly opens and Sertia walks through. She is taller than Olraym by several inches; her hair is black, unlike Olraym’s light blond, and long. It is almost to the waist. Her eyes are a kind of forest green and her face is rather long. She is wearing a long slimming dress, green to match her eyes, with a high neck-line.

  She stops as she spots Olraym and gives a calming smile. He can see through the smile that she is tired and hassled. He smiles back hoping to alleviate her troubles. She drops her eyes for a moment then looks at Olraym again, this time with no smile, just a blank " but serious " expression.

  “Father is waiting for you” she says, gesturing to the door behind her, her voice as empty as her face. He nods and walks through the door. Sertia follows, closing it behind her. They enter a small space, to the left of them is a winding stone staircase while ahead and to the right are door-less openings leading elsewhere. Through the opening ahead is the main dining room, it is longer than the entrance hall with the long table filling most of it. There is a chair at each end with two chairs on the left and one, Olraym’s, on the right. Both the table and all the chairs are made from a dark smooth wood. There is a long dark red silk cloth, same colour as the banners, covering most of the table. There are no windows in the dining hall but there are torches (also unlit at the moment). There is eight in total; three to the left, three to the right and one at each end. The floor is bare, same as the walls but for the torches.

  They turn and walk up the stone staircase. They are silent all the way up, with only the sound of their footfalls as company. There is dim light from the occasional arrow slit in the wall as they went up. They finally reach the top, there is a wooden door; it is similar and unremarkable to the door Olraym and Sertia walked through before, but all the same Olraym hesitates. He knows what is on the other side of that door and that once he walks through there is no going back. Sertia walks up to the door, places her hand on the door handle and looks at Olraym.

  “Are you ready?” she asks. Olraym takes a deep breath and after a moment he slowly nods. She knocks on the door then opens it, they both enter and Sertia closes it.

 

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The bed chamber is huge, taking up the entire interior of the ball-like structure. This, unlike the rest of the castle, has moments of extravagance; the tall wardrobe just a few feet from the door, standing on four curved legs with some amusing little carvings of flowers on it. Next to it is a full length mirror. The floor is made of a light coloured wood but looks strong. In the centre of the room are two wooden steps, the same colour as the rest of the floor and makes the further part of the room higher than the rest. Most of the floor and the two steps a grey fur-skinned rug covers it. Furthest from the door is a king-sized four poster bed, the sheets are a bright mid-morning blue and there is a white, somewhat transparent, curtain hanging from the tester above. The four posters all have a spiral pattern to them. Olraym is silent for a moment as he looks around; to Olraym the room smells of sweat and fear. There is a small wooden chair next to the bed where Olraym and Sertia’s mother, Queen Moira, is sitting; her eyes are bloodshot and her face is crusted with tracks of dried tears, she looks worse to Olraym than Sertia did before. Her hair and features a lot very similar to Sertia’s, but Queen Moira’s face is more aged with wrinkles and slight worry lines. Although her ageing, Olraym can see, is graceful.

  Queen Moira looks up to see Olraym standing there and lets out a sigh of relief. ‘How long has she been holding that?’ thinks Olraym, and his concern and dread quickly grows.

  Moira looks to the bed and Olraym follows her gaze; lying on the bed under the sheets and barely conscious is his father King Gremborlin. Olraym moves closer to the bed but Sertia stays where she is. He stops at the foot of the bed; his father looks pale and thin lying on the bed. Gremborlin’s hands are lying on his chest in a kind of death pose and his breathing is slow. He occasionally shifts position slightly but is always silent. He has a full beard that is mostly white but has a few spots of light blond " his original colour, just like Olraym’s.

  “It is good to see you, son,” says Queen Moira in an obviously forced calm and quiet voice. As if her voice is any louder it might disturb her husband. Olraym says nothing in return, just stares at his father as if nothing else exists as if in a trance. Moira shares a concerning look with Sertia, who returns it.

  “How long has he been like this?” Olraym says finally, still not looking away from Gremborlin. Moira and Sertia share a moment of relief and Sertia starts walking closer to the bed.

  “A few weeks,” replies Sertia. This brings Olraym out of his trance and turns to Sertia with shock and anger on his face. This makes Sertia hesitate and Moira prepares to get off the chair, expecting a fight between them.

  “Why wasn’t I informed earlier?!” shouts Olraym.

  “We couldn’t find you!” retorts Sertia, also now in a shout, getting in Olraym’s face, angry at him but also hoping to calm him down. Neither now cares about the possibility of waking their father. “Where were you anyway? Where, Olraym?” There is a long and empty silence, Olraym’s anger is gone, replaced with sadness and embarrassment. He looks away from Sertia to the ground beneath him, like a child expecting punishment.

  “I’m sorry; I was at the Tervunmal Islands.” His voice quiet like his mother’s was before. Moira visibly relaxes back in the chair.

  “What were you doing there?” asks Moira calmly, hoping to keep it that way. Olraym looks up to her; his eyes filling with tears and as she stares, they slowly flow down his cheeks.

  “I was there seeking peace and quiet. No one there to bother me, no one to curtsey to me, no one who will constantly remind me of who I am” He says.

  “But why go there?” questions Sertia, “sure there are few people there, but they’re all said to be as bad as those in Burden.”

  “I know but I can deal with that, you know the things father wanted me to learn.” Replies Olraym, he is still looking at Moira with tears now travelling down his face in freefall. Moira, seeing this, holds out her arms. He rushes to her open arms and they share a tight hug. He cries silently in her embrace.

  All is silent until Olraym leaves Moira’s embrace, his tears have stopped but his cheeks are still wet. He doesn’t look to either of them but neither does he return to looking at the ground. “You didn’t need to go all the way to the Tervunmal Islands to escape us little brother,” says Sertia suddenly, earning her a glare from her mother. She shrugs in response.

  “I know, and it wasn’t about escaping any of you, you know that,” both Sertia and Moira nod and both are unseen by Olraym, “it was about escaping all of this,” he gestures around him, but they all know he means his life as royalty.

  They all suddenly become silent as they hear a strange sound; a low pained mumbling sound. The take a quick look around to find the source their eyes rest on the bed. King Gremborlin is awake " somewhat " and is looking at them with half-open bleary eyes. They all rush to him, stopping short of falling on him. His mumbling becomes louder; he is trying to speak. Olraym leans in closer to Gremborlin hoping to hear him better.

  “What is he saying? What is he saying?” Sertia whispers, excitement crystal clear in her voice. She is close to jumping up and down. Moira is more collected but she looks equally excited.

  “I can’t-I can’t hear,” replies Olraym, he too is excited like the others but is also annoyed. Sertia immediately quiets down and stops jumping, Olraym’s annoyance is replaced by deep concentration. He leans closer again, almost touching this time, and listens. For a moment the bed chamber is quiet for the whispering voice of King Gremborlin to Olraym. When he finishes speaking Olraym is silent and still. He doesn’t know what to do next; he doesn’t know how to think about his father’s request.

 

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Prince Thorne; the oldest child of King Gremborlin and Queen Moira, is standing tall on a balcony outside his bed chamber. He is deep in inner contemplation, watching the sun shed its final light on the city, while at the same time not seeing anything at all. He feels the air already turning cold but doesn’t mind, he enjoys the feeling. He is tall with black hair like his sister’s, it is cut close to his head and he has no facial hair. He has large intense eyes. He has a wide muscular upper body, he knows battle. He has an authoritative feel about him. He is wearing a dark blue tunic. It looks simple but expensive. He is barefoot; his shoes standing together in his room next to the bed.

  The sound of a door opening and closing reaches his ears. Someone has entered his room. Thorne waits, listening to the footfalls coming closer, not moving at all. He knows who is in his room. The loud footfalls become a man as he walks onto the balcony, stopping behind Thorne to his right. This man is the very antithesis of Thorne; he is a skinny man with unkempt light brown hair, he is constantly shifting position and his light blue eyes are darting everywhere for a place to look. He too is wearing a tunic but it is brown and looks old and ragged.

  “My lord,” he mutters, forcing confidence into his voice, “your brother prince Olraym has returned.” Thorne still doesn’t move but he tenses up slightly.

  “Has he met with father?” asks Thorne.

  “As soon as he arrived,” says the man. They wait in silence then, “he was in for some time, when he left, he looked…” Thorne turns to the man looking impatient.

  “Yes! What is it Dunarn” he yells, making the man (Dunarn) jump back before he fights for composure.

  “He looked shocked, angry” Dunarn says quickly. Thorne himself becomes angry, he knows what it means. He slowly walks back onto his bed chamber, his anger growing, and then stops next to his wardrobe. He shifts back and forth and then punches his wardrobe. The smacking sound reverberates around the room. He calms down a little after that. He looks at his hand; it looks undamaged, but he rubs it. It is a little sore.

  “What do you wish me to do?” asks Dunarn, his voice barely above a whisper. Thorne begins pacing back and forth methodically, his mind deep in thought.

  “Nothing yet, we’ll wait and see if my brother Olraym chooses to obey father’s dying wish.”

  “And if he does?” at this question Thorne stops pacing and stares a Dunarn.

  “Then we’ll deal with him.” Dunarn nods and, after a slight bow, quickly leaves.