Part 1 Chapter 6

 

CHAPTER 6

 

 

M

any years ago, a lifetime ago, Moira was a strong woman. Though she wasn’t born of Tov’ra, not born of the Highlands, she had visited with her family many times. She was born in the lands of Jehlaan, hundreds of miles south which is just across the border to the Highlands. Moira is a member of the royal family in Heveklan, a city two-hundred miles from the border.

  At age fifteen she and her family journeyed to Tov’ra for what was now the fourth time. Most of the family anyway, her seventeen year old brother Kahl decided to stay behind, keep an eye on things in Heveklan. This time going to Tov’ra was different, this time it was for business and not for the sake of curiosity and enjoyment. Their trip to the Highlands and Tov’ra was supposed to be the first meeting between Moira and someone whom her parents wanted as a son-in-law: Gremborlin. Though at that time they had never met Moira had heard many things about him and she assumed the same was true vice-versa. But all this information about him came from her parents, her mother mostly, so it was a little bias.

  Centuries ago Jehlaan and the Highlands were at war. It was long and bloody, the number of deaths on each side was incalculable. For a time the Highland soldiers make progress through Jehlaan, then suddenly are forced to fall back as Jehlaan soldiers come back with a vengeance. Then the same would happen vice versa. No true progress was ever made.

  Seeing no way end this war with a victory the kings of both sides met on the border between their lands and made a peaceful compromise: a stone wall would be erected on the border, completely separating them forever.

  This wall is small but tough. It takes three years to complete, but, true to their word, it was three peaceful years.

  Over the next few years a small amount of people climb over it, but it they are always children living close to the wall just having fun. The children are found out quick and scolded by their parents, told never to do that again. No harm done.

  As the centuries go on the wall ages and some of the rocks loosen and fall. Instead of fixing or rebuilding it the then current kings and queens of both lands decide to make a change. Since peace and eventual friendship has lasted for so long they decide to break a section of the wall away and make a road through it, thereby allowing passage between both lands. The workers hired to make this happen think it best to work at a section where the most damage is done, so work will not take so long.

  It takes three months.

  Finally when finished they put up two wooden signs just at the entrance. One reads ‘HIGHLANDS’ the other just below reads ‘JEHLAAN’.

 

  When she and Kahl were told the stories of the war and the building of the wall Kahl always hated it when the stories came to parts when the soldiers of the Highlands won the battle. He hated it Jehlaan was forced to make peace with them; he always thought Jehlaan was better than them and deserved to be better. She on the other hand found it all fascinating and wanted to hear it all several times over.  

  Now on this trek Moira cannot help but feel excited as they pass through that age-old wall and she sees that age-old sign telling them they have reached the Highlands.

  For a moment she falls asleep. It is dreamless and peaceful but short-lived with the many bumps on the roads.

  Their trek from Heveklan was long but not enjoyable, Moira stayed quiet listening to her mother tell her what she called ‘last minute information’. It would have been shorter but they avoided a city called Burden, again a place Moira had only heard about. And from what she had heard avoiding it like they are is a good idea.

  Later upon reaching Tov’ra the spectacle of it again amazed her even after seeing before. Without being told the guards at the city’s front gate open it at the sight of Moira’s parents.

  Inside the difference between Tov’ra and Heveklan is indisputable. Heveklan is smaller though still big and Tov’ra seems busier somehow. Basically Tov’ra looks more like a city should look. But these differences don’t detract from the beauty Heveklan has within or Jehlaan itself.

  The convoy soon reaches the castle and they are greeted by a set of ten heavily armed guards with three people standing in the centre just in front of the door. The guards in Moira’s convoy are as well armed as those in Tov’ra and when they all stop at the castle the guards fan out until they are in similar positions as their Tov’ra counterparts. Once they stop the royal family of Heveklan exits first Moira’s father, Tilroth, followed by her mother, Spirsi, then finally Moira herself. The names of Gremborlin’s parents and the king and queen of Tov’ra at that time escape her no matter how hard she tries to find them.

  The two kings greet each other with a smile, a pat on the shoulder and a kind word of welcome. The two queens greet with a hug and kiss on the cheek and a similar but more feminine welcome. At the sight of Moira the introductions between her and Gremborlin are made. He is a decade older than her maybe more but he still looks handsome in her eyes, his eyes are full of life and he looks pleased to see her. She finds him rather fun and smiles as they shake hands.

  The six enter the castle, the parent talking together while Gremborlin and Moira lack behind them talking privately, sometimes about each other and other times about things such as their individual homes and lands. Moira enjoyed hearing about Tov’ra and the highlands but what she really liked was hearing about him, the more she learned the more she like him.

  They all follow Gremborlin’s parents and explore the castle, the entrance hall then the gardens. All in all a small amount of the rooms and walkways contained in the castle. It was all exciting to Moira but when it stops at the dining hall she is disappointed her as she wanted to see more quickly, but she can wait if she has to.

  The food was brought to them as they sat in the main dining hall, Gremborlin and his parents sit on chairs that look as if they were made for the table but Moira and her family had to use chairs that looked newer if not recently made, but no one said anything about them just sat down and began eating while still talking.

  Moira and Gremborlin try to be part of the conversation whenever possible but cannot help but give each other glances, their parents either don’t notice or don’t say anything about it.

  Finally after an hour of talking and ten minutes of eating they got down to the bedrock of the purpose of meeting in Tov’ra: Moira and Gremborlin’s impending marriage. For Moira this is a touchy subject, she might like Gremborlin but for the moment couldn’t see being with him for the rest of her life. Spirsi was probably aware of this which is why she told them to leave and explore on their own. They took some mild convincing by both sets of parents but in the end they left. The two explored more of the castle and talked for another hour, both being pleasant but holding back not wanting to seem too forward since this was their first meeting. The talks go so well for Moira that the thought of marrying him seems less of a bad idea. 

  Moira had never believed in love at first sight but for Gremborlin she was ready to make an exception.

  Deciding to go back to the main dining hall Gremborlin feels bold enough to offer his hand which she takes with a smile and a laugh and the two walk back hand in hand. She finds his hand warm and rather comforting as it envelopes her own.

  They stayed that way until they made it back to the main dining hall where their parents were still talking but the food was long forgotten, at which point they both let go and went back to their respective seats, but by then they all saw the hand holding and smiled. They knew what this meant.  Not only was the marriage going to go forward but both bride and groom want this to happen.

  The parents have their own reasons for wanting this marriage, all politically motivated. But for Moira and Gremborlin it was one of love.

  The marriage took place in Tov’ra three weeks later. It was a beautiful ceremony: flowers everywhere, soft music playing lightly so as not to interfere with anything. Guests appeared from both the Highlands and Jehlaan, all known to one or both families and all valued friends. Throughout the wedding there was lots of cheering from guests, all of which made Moira and Gremborlin laugh, everyone was having a good time.

  By the end of the day the marriage was complete. Most of the guests left soon after though a few stayed to talk but no longer than twenty or so minutes.

  The marriage was wonderful and both lands prospered because of the alliance gained by it. Their love for each other grew as the years passed. Years into the marriage Moira, at age nineteen, bore a son that Gremborlin’s father decided should be called Thorne. A strange name but Moira and Gremborlin thought it better than to argue and just let it slide. Then a few years later she bore a daughter, this time she named the child, named her Sertia. And finally Olraym was born years after that. Gremborlin felt he should name this child and given that he felt he had little say in the names of his first two children no one argued. In truth he named his third child because he felt there was something different about him, something special, and he wanted to help him, prepare him for something, some task, to come(though no one knew what this task was to be).

  As the years went by she saw her family in Jehlaan less and less, her brother Kahl least of all. She wanted to spend all her time in Tov’ra though she missed her parents and being in Heveklan. Then one day while watching her children run around in the garden she heard from a messenger that they had died, she was so upset she didn’t speak to anyone until after the funeral a week later. Gremborlin tried to cheer her up, get her to talk and she loved him dearly for it, but it didn’t help much. Shortly after Moira returned from the funeral Kahl took over as ruler of Heveklan and Jehlaan as their parents wanted but he still barely spoke to his sister or his new in-laws.

  At first things were difficult for her but once she got better things over time slowly got back to normal, she spent as much time a possible with her children, teaching them, playing with them, until they grew too old, and loving them. As he got older Thorne spent time alone more and more, making Moira feel sad and tries a few times to reconnect with him. Although it works a little he still spends time alone more and more. Sertia sticks around with Moira and Gremborlin which pleased her but when Olraym becomes a teenager the same thing as Thorne happens. Through all of this Gremborlin stood by her side, holding her when she is upset or angry and laughing with her when she is happy.

  But not anymore, now he is dead and placed forever in the mausoleum, out of her reach.

 

ø

 

In the days following the funeral Queen Moira barely leaves her bed chamber. The few who enter her chamber to give food or clean up tell others, after they leave, the awful condition she looks in their opinions. The only person to go in Moira’s chamber for more than a few minutes at a time is Sertia and to her the stories and opinions of her servants doesn’t do it justice. Her eyes have sunken and her hair is unkempt, going all over the place. And worst of all Moira acts as if she doesn’t care. When they ask if she wants help with something she firmly states no telling whoever asks that these requests will go nowhere.

  Olraym visits Moira as well but not as much or for as long as Sertia. He is having trouble dealing with it as well. But also is having problems sleeping; the nightmares keep coming back. They are always the same: both he and his family dead covered in their own blood in the main dining hall. Thorne is always missing but he still has no idea why, or if maybe he is dead elsewhere. And at the end of the nightmare he always sees the cloaked figure, now definitely believed to be a woman, keeps appearing with open arms and gives the word ‘change’ before he wakes sweating profusely. He tells no one of his nightmare, not wanting his mother of his sister anything more to concern themselves with. Although he spends less time with Moira than Sertia does he is not blind to his mother’s blight. Just doesn’t know of a way he can help.

  Thorne like the others has become somewhat distant and distracted since the funeral, but not for the same reasons. For days he has waited for word from Dunarn that he has someone that will fulfil a certain contract demanding blood. He is hoping for Dunarn to find someone not only good enough but willing enough to do what Thorne wants but also to do it quickly before his father’s will is read and Olraym is named to next king. Thorne knows it to be Olraym because he always felt him to be father’s favourite: spending so much time with him as he got older and giving him all that Thorne had to fight for.

  An hour later as he sits on a small wooden chair, hiding in the shadows, in his chamber his hopes are answered as Dunarn enters, he has the same frightful child look on him he also looks pleased with himself.

  “I have found someone; they just want to know when.”

  “Today,” Dunarn bows and leaves. Thorne stays seated, considering his actions he has just taking and ones his may take in the future. What Dunarn decides not to tell Thorne is that he had met the assassin, just went through the proper channels and talk to those the assassin knows and trusts. He meets these people again to inform the assassin of the time frame in which to complete the contract. The assassin is informed soon after and soon after that begins following Olraym whenever possible.

  The assassin has a small crossbow strapped to the right arm, small but very effective.

  On the first day of tracking the assassin finds it difficult to find and follow him; even though the assassin bribes a few of the weaker minded guards with promises of fortune to allow access to certain parts of the castle. But in the following days it becomes easier due to Olraym leaving the castle and walking at a steady pace to open areas of the city. The assassin stalks him from a safe distance, being wary of any changes Olraym makes or of the crowds in the streets in case they get to big. Mostly the assassin finds no opening for attack; Olraym doesn’t go in the same direction or to the same place twice in a row. Until at one time Olraym sits alone in the main square, which is now back to the way it used to be and hardly looks as if a few days ago a funeral ceremony happened there, the assassin feels it to be the perfect time to strike. The poison darts and the crossbow are ready and the assassin finds the perfect way to move in and out of sight. But before the job can be done a royal knight the assassin knows to be Relon approaches Olraym, he places his hand on Olraym’s shoulder and shakes in a comforting gesture. With Relon there the assassin backs away knowing this complication is too much, too dangerous.  The assassin waits and waits until finally Relon and Olraym leave the main square and separate with Olraym heading back to the castle and Relon heading to the barracks which, although is close to the castle, requires a different route. The assassin, thankful Olraym is alone again, quickly follows Olraym with a poison dart ready to be fired. But as Relon and Olraym splits Relon looks back and, unbeknownst to the assassin, notices him, he stops and looks on curious as Olraym and the assassin get out of his field of vision, then becomes worried and quickly backtracks and follows the assassin.

  Elsewhere in the castle Sertia enters a small office belonging to the former king’s chief advisor and dear friend Bevil Bralag. Although he and King Gremborlin have known each other for many years he is by no means old, his hair still has its original colour (light brown, almost blond) and the few wrinkles on his face are only just starting to show themselves. Bevil himself is sitting behind a large wooden desk reading a small book bound in black leather, it looks old with a little wear and tear but doesn’t look as if it will fall apart at any moment. He looks up a little surprised and stands as she enters and she gives a smile back.

  “Hello Bevil,” says Sertia as she walks further into the office.

  “This is a surprise,” Sertia gestures to a chair on the other side of the table, Bevil nods and Sertia sits, “what can I do for you?”

  “I was wondering about father’s will,” Bevil closes the book and places on the table slightly to his left; he is immediately becomes suspicious but luckily does not show it. Sertia waits patiently for his reply watching his face for anything that gives him away. She finds nothing.

  “What about it?” he asks finally, still stone-faced and doing the same to Sertia as she is to him. Sertia gets more comfortable and crosses her legs; Bevil notices this and tries but fails to watch her legs as they cross. His eyes quickly go back to hers hoping she hadn’t notice but she did. Her smile changes, it becomes something that says ‘I know you watched, I know I have power over you’. Bevil gets angry at this, coughs and shifts slightly on his seat to regain his composure.

  “I am wondering when exactly father’s will is to be read,” she says still with the smile. A moment of understanding comes over Bevil.

  “I’m afraid I cannot say, it is to be read when it is to be read,” Sertia becomes stern-faced for a second before smiling again; this smile is again different, it is more of a ‘think-what-can-happen’ smile. But this time it does not work on Bevil and he now further understands the reasons for her presence in his office. She uncrosses her legs, this time purposefully slower savouring every moment.

  “Isn’t there something you can tell me?” she asks in an innocent almost child-like voice. But Bevil can still hear the subtleness underneath and although he is gaining control he wonders how far she will go. He shakes his head. In an attempt to gain control of the situation she leans forward, getting close to him while still holding back, she sees it is working so she stands while still leaning forwards so that the two are almost touching. Bevil can feel her breath on his face, “are you sure?” he takes several breaths and nods, making Sertia impatient.

  Sertia reaches for him and gently strokes his face making his eyes widen. Each watches the other, waiting, daring the other to make a move, “I’m sure we can come to an arrangement, I just want to know when it will be read.”

  Suddenly Bevil stands and backs out of Sertia’s reach, he looks angry at both Sertia and himself. Sertia, shocked at him standing, straightens.

  “Get out!” says Bevil, his voice level. Sertia smiles, slowly turns around and walks out. The door giving a barely audible bang as it closes. Bevil sits back down, sighing deeply in relief, picks the book back up and returns to the page he was reading before. After a while he forgets about Sertia.

 

ø

 

Thorne is in the throne room; it is similar to the main entrance hall in the fact it is a long room with pillars on both sides going from one end to the other. The floor is bare stone but it is level and the windows on both sides create a tunnel of light from the door to the throne itself. On the wall behind the throne is a mural of the city’s symbol, it is enlarged, and therefore slightly distorted, to fit the entire wall. The throne itself is big; it looks like it was made with intense care by designers of great skill. The throne is made from gold and is embroidered with a pattern of shinning red flowers almost like they are made from jewels and small but thick swords criss-crossing over and over. The arm rests are a simple design, they are smooth and flat, they go on for a while that at the end they bend in on themselves. The seat itself is made from dark purple velvet and is more comfortable than it looks. The back support also has the purple velvet and goes up high, dwarfing whoever sits on the throne. Thorne imagines sitting on it wearing the crown, imagines the feel of the golden arm rests in his hands, his head leaning back resting on the high support. He imagines others watching him as he is sitting; they stand patiently, staring at him in awe. They aren’t there to stop him they are there to obey him, he is their ruler, their sovereign their king.

  He walks closer to the throne then stops just in front of it; his hand slowly reaches for it, daring himself to go the distance. His hands shake as if he is fighting his desire, they shake more and more not knowing which side will win. Finally he lowers his still shaking hand, but not before clenching it into a fist and slamming it down on the throne, and takes a deep cleansing breath. After a still moment he leaves the throne room in a temper, bumping into a passing guard who falters and nearly trips. The guard regains his footing and is about to shout angrily at whomever knocked him back but stops as he sees Thorne. Thorne glares daggers at the guard for unintentionally being in his way then resumes his tempered stroll. The guard watches him go then resumes his walk as well, this time a little quicker.

 

ø

 

Relon is close to the assassin. Olraym doesn’t seem to notice either of them; he is too busy navigating through the hordes of peasants in the streets. To Relon the assassin looks thin, but the way the assassin moves, staying close one moment then falling behind the next, lets Relon know that whoever he is, he is good at his job. Relon doesn’t notice the poison darts or the crossbow attached at the arm as the assassin readies for a strike but he does notice him getting closer than before. So Relon speeds up until there is less than six feet between them. They each close in on each and Relon finally sees the crossbow. He runs up to the assassin shouting at Olraym to move. Olraym hears it and spins around, confused until he sees the assassin. For a moment the assassin to him looks exactly like the hooded figure in his dreams, he freezes watching the assassin close in arms raised. He doesn’t see the darts or Relon running to him, just the assassin, just his nightmare figure. The crowd around hear the shouts, turn to see what is going on and close in on the three but hurriedly back away as they see Relon and Olraym. Not many really take notice of the assassin. And those that do only look on shocked. Just as the assassin is about to strike Olraym hears a pained grunt and takes a second to realise it came from the assassin as Relon runs into him and they both fall to the ground. Olraym blinks several times coming out of his trance and realises the grunt was that of a woman. He looks around as if unsure where she went and finds her on the ground to his left trying to release herself from Relon’s firm hold. The crossbow fires but misses everyone and hits the back of a small cart, the remaining darts have fallen in front of the assassin and Relon; she spots them and tries reaching for one, her fingertips barely touching it. Relon notices and pulls her away from them. She screams in anger and elbows him in the chest knocking the wind out of him. His hold loosens and she forces herself out of it and crawl to the darts. She reaches out for one again only for Olraym to put his foot on her arm. She screams again but this time in pain as well as anger.

  “Who are you?” demands Olraym as she looks up at him. He can barely see her face with the hood still over it, “who are you?” he asks again and puts more weight on her arm and hears her pained yelp. She tries to push him off with her other hand put it is a weak attempt and does nothing to help her. Olraym hears another groan and looks to find Relon standing up. He doesn’t look hurt so Olraym looks back down at his would-be assassin. “Who sent you?” she stops struggling when she hears that question.

  “Not telling,” is her reply, Olraym looks surprised at this, not just the reply itself but her voice sounds soft but it has and edge to it.

  Olraym turns to Relon who is now next to him, “take her to the dungeon, I’ll deal with her there later,” Olraym lift his foot from her arm, she cringes in pain but says nothing as Relon takes hold of her, gets her to her feet and forcibly moves her away. The crowd parts allowing access to Relon and the assassin. Olraym stays still looking ahead, trying to wrap his head around what just happened‘she can’t be the one from my nightmare, can she?’  He feels he needs to find out any way he can.

 

ø

 

Word spreads fast of Olraym’s near-death experience. Sir Relon is praised by all those he passes; be they his fellow guards or low life peasants. He enjoys the attention gained from it always smiling and waving at them. Sertia on the other hand has a very different feeling on what transpired. Her tight demeanour due to caring for her mother quickly turns to anger; anger at those who saw but did nothing to help, anger at whoever ordered her brother’s death, but mostly anger at Olraym for being there in the first place. Olraym knows of course that her anger is just a mask for her being scared of what might have happened and pure joy that it didn’t.

  The assassin is placed in a cell furthest from the door and her crossbow is removed from her arm and thrown in storage; she doesn’t speak to anyone or make any kind of noise, just sits on her bed staring at her feet. She keeps the hood up. The guards stationed in the dungeons occasionally whistle at her as if calling to a pet and laugh, they don’t see it but she becomes angry, barely holding herself back.

  Olraym is unsure of what to do with her; on the one hand she is his would-be assassin, on the other he could not get his nightmare figure out of his head. It is impossible; she can’t be her, can she? He doesn’t know and is not sure if he wants to know.  Many times alone is his room he thinks he should go see her, walks to his door with his hands outstretched about to open door, he stops himself before he does, his mind racing with negative possibilities, things that may go wrong. And then there’s the thought of what if she is his nightmare girl. What would that mean?

  On the fifth day after her assassination attempt Olraym steels himself and heads to the dungeon. It is underground in the south side of the castle; the dungeon is huge containing more than thirty cells on three separate floors. The cells are small only able to hold one or two at a time and have two small make-shift bed made from dead animal skins with a thin stained blanket that is worse than useless in cold weather all are filthy. Some have blood smears and even teeth from when guards attacked their prisoners, though no one from outside the prison has tried stopping them since no prisoner ever complains for fear of further beatings or worse, death. The stairs down are narrow, dirty and pieces are broken off; making sharp edges that some prisoners cut their feet off of. Olraym makes careful progress down the steps avoiding the sharp edges and skipping steps entirely. Olraym hears a sound; he stops but cannot figure out what it is so he continues. The further down he travels the more clear the sound is. It is laughter. Once at the bottom he enters through a door to a large square room with three wooden doors; two straight ahead and the third to the right. There are four square tables each with four chairs set facing the tables’ different sides.  The guards fill these seats drinking ale and laughing, Olraym can see some of the chairs are empty even all the guards he can see are sitting. A rotten smell fills the air making Olraym cringe.

  One of the guards notices Olraym and immediately stands, knocking his chair back and it falls to the ground in a clank that reverberates through the room. The others look at him and the laughter dies down as they turn to look at Olraym and soon all are standing.

  “I’m here to see your new prisoner,” one of the them gives a nod and walks to the door to the right, takes out a rusty set of keys, and opens it.

  Without waiting Olraym walks through the now open door. He suddenly backs away a step in disgust as the smell worsens on the other side of the door, which inside holds a long dark hallway. The guard who opened the door look apologetic but wisely says nothing.  The guard enters first and guides Olraym through the hallway; on the left side from one end to the other are jail cells. Most are empty but a few has prisoners, all of whom are dirty and bruised and are either lying on their beds or huddled in a corner scared for their lives. Olraym knows the bruises and cuts are actions of the dungeon guards.

  The guard stops in front of the second-to-last cell, inside the assassin is alone sitting on one of the beds, she hasn’t moved since she was thrown in. Olraym notices a slight movement from her as he enters her sight, he tells the guard to leave and after a moment of hesitation he nods and does, then Olraym notices another guard walking towards him holding one of the chairs. He places it in front of the cell then also leaves. Olraym waits until both guards are out of the hallway then pulls it forward slightly and sits on the chair, both are silent as he stares at his would-be assassin and feels her staring back from under her hood.

  “So…why try ‘n kill me?”  He asks, deciding to break the silence, and waits for an answer.