Spirit Stone - Chapter 2

Chapter Two:  The sword in the court

You never know when death comes knocking. Many people fear death as its a harbinger and a reaper of spirits. For others its a challenge, they see it as their final fight. These people try to outright defy death at every turn getting themselves into situations that make them feel more alive. They spit in the face of Marawe, the queen of death. Freya Locke was one such person. It was early evening, the sun gave off a deep red colour on the horizon, dimly lighting Freya’s letter room.

"Are you familiar with the blessing of my people Freya?" grumbled the dark skinned man who was leaned against the wall. He wore loose fitting pants, a leather cuirass and a desert shawl with a great sword strapped to his back. He was roughly seven feet tall, a giant among men.

“it is Eriel malil eyon et Yaron"

"Yes, I am familiar with your people's customs Fawkes, it translates in common to may your path be blessed with water and bloodshed" sighed Freya rather audibly, leaning back in her chair. The pair were in the main letter room of the Locke estate. It was a small room with large oaken desk and the walls were lined with book selves. Next to the desk there was a single crow in a cage wearing the crest of the Locke family. Tameran nobles were quite fond of using birds to deliver letters. Freya flicked the cage door open and the crow promptly hopped out on to her arm. She stroked the bird’s head twice before attaching a letter to its ankle.

“God speed” whispered Freya as the bird took off into the evening sky through the open window.  The letter was to the house Kingston, one of Locke’s closest allies in the court. Freya had earned reputation as a conspirator against the king. Freya’s reputations had earned her attention from all of the court and if one was to ask any noble you’d hear that she is a lean framed woman who manages to hold an air of grace at all times, who has piercing bright blue eyes, and shoulder length blond hair that frames her face in noble fashion. She is also known to always keep her saber at her side. Tameran court life is dangerous and extremely subtle full of poisonous, power hungry people. Freya peered out the window watching the bird disappear into the horizon. Below the window the court yard was buzzing with servants as the Locke family would have dinner soon. Freya yawned audibly and picked up a book laying on the arm table. It’s title read To kill a king by Amu’sie the Reborn. Freya Idly flipped through it before placing it down on the desk and reaching over for her Saber which stood leaned against the desk.  

"Freya why is it a noble lady like yourself stays armed at all times, is this not why you've hired me?" asked Fawkes. Turning around and meeting Fawkes's golden eyed stare,

"Well answer this first Fawkes, what do your Yas'ari people think of assassins?" Freya buckled her saber onto her belt which was leaning against the desk and motioned for the door.

"Assassins are a coward's tool, if you're going to kill someone you should do it yourself. My father was killed by an assassin" stated Fawkes swinging the heavy door open to reveal a down spiraling staircase lit by candles and stain glass windows.

“And Fawkes have you hear anything else of this assassin other than that he is of Tameran descent?” Asked Freya as she strutted down the corridor. Fawkes shut the door behind them and followed.

“Fawkes I’ve given you all the resources I have to help you find this assassin. I personally think this assassin comes from House Tybalt or Merek as both houses are known to have their noses in worldly affairs and house assassins” Freya continued. Fawkes just silenced nodded taking the suggestion into consideration.

“Actually speaking of those two houses, I have something to show you Fawkes if you’ll follow me. Oh, also I’ve instructed the chef to make your favourite dish” Said Freya. At the end of the corridor, it opened to the courtyard. The courtyard was beautiful, and could only be described  as vibrant. It was designed around a fountain with rows of gardens boxes and had a large oak tree in the corner. The tree had slash marks in it from Freya spending plenty of time blunting her saber as a child.

Fawkes cleared his throat as they strode across the courtyard,

“Why choose a weapon like that saber instead of something more effective. The saber is light, can’t block a blow and can’t cut as well as a full sized sword. Why poke holes into your opponent when you could simply cut them in half?” He was referring to his great sword Sagi which had claimed the lives of many. It was roughly 6 feet long, had an elegant hilt and pommel. The blade had a shallow curve like a scimitar and was engraved with markings. The pommel had a notch in it for every enemy slain.

“I nearly beat you didn’t I? Growing up in a court full of nobles, or cowards as you would put it one must learn to defend themselves from assassins, and take precautions.  Nobles tend to get power hungry and end up destroy themselves over said power" informed Freya,

"I intend to take the throne and I need good men at my back, thus is why you're here. You're the only warrior who has ever bested me in the blade work, you should feel honoured" Fawkes kept to himself about it. She truly had nearly beaten him. She was a fast on her feet as she was with that saber. If he didn’t have the talent and restraint with Sagi he would have cleaved her in half when he finally caught her out when she attempted to parry his off hand swing.

The pair walked through the courtyard. Freya ignored some of the servants who walked by or had heeded for her attention. Ahead of them there were  steps leading down into a cellar where Fawkes had never been. It was a rather bleak when compared to the rest of the Locke court yard. The sun cast a long shadow over the cobble stone walls that surrounded the heavy oaken door adding an almost uncanny feel.

"if I intend to take this kingdom as my own from that retch we call a king, then I must change the court" said Freya in a headstrong fashion. She knocked three times on the door, which swung open in ease. The guard who opened it winced from the outside light as his eyes adjusted.  

“Mistress Locke both men are being held, nobody knows they’re missing yet from what our spies say” said Freya’s master of spies, Flinn Blackwood. Blackwood was a small man with short cut hair. Despite being a mild drunkard, he was quite fussy about his appearance. Even though the man was a narcissist and tended to have a sadistic side nobody could network better than him. The cellar inside was fairly plain, had barrels piled off to the side, was lit with candles and to the untrained eye would appear exactly as it was supposed too. However, at the back of the room there was a door.

“Thank you Flinn, keep me posted” She said with a smile before she walked in. Flinn closed the door and took a swig of his flask after Fawkes walked in.
“if you’ll excuse me” Said Flynn with a wink. He reached into his pouch, pulling out a ring of keys before rushing to catch up with Freya who had beelined to the back door. It was closed with a heavy lock and bar. Fawkes looked at it quizzically.

“Freya what or who are you keeping down here?”

“Remember how I told you I would help you find your father’s killer? Well it just so happens my two guests might just know something that” winked Freya. Flinn inserted the key and the lock made a loud crunch noise as it fell from the bar. The door opened to a hallway which was lit with low burning torches.

“Take your time Mistress Locke” Said Flinn with a smirk.

"Freya, why waste time on all this deceptive work and trying to undermine your king?  If you'd handle this the Yas'ari way you'd challenge the king to combat and simply kill him" advised Fawkes Curtly.  Freya Sighed,

"You have much to learn still about Tameran culture and court life. you have to be subtle in the court. Fawkes, think of the court like a war between tribes but they're only allowed to fight when no one is watching" Freya explained.

"For instance" Freya pointed to the end of the hallway where there was a series of jail cells. Inside the cell at the end of the hallway there were two men, dressed in rags. The cells were dingy, the only light was the reaching inside them was the slight glow from the torches in the hallway. Food scraps could be found on the floor along with some rough straw beds in the corners.  The prisoners could be identified as Lord Merek and Lord Tybalt, both respectable men who openly supported the king.  

"See Fawkes, no one is around to see what I've done thus I've beat these two in the game of the court" Lord Merek stood and grabbed the bars of the cellar spitting at Freya's feet with a look of exhaustion and disgust.

"How long do you intend to keep us here, Locke? I heard you got your place in the court by sleeping with the very man you oppose like the little royal b***h you are" threatened Allen Merek.

“Lord Merek I do believe you’re not in the position to be insulting me as you are the one behind bars. My bars, in my cellar” said Freya. Ignoring her captives, Freya turned to Fawkes who had instinctively loosened his great sword from its sheathe, breathing in deeply.

"Now, now Fawkes settle down. These two gentlemen are here because they openly support the king and if I’m to have my throne they must be removed and their houses have strong ties to the criminal underworld in Tamera. Thus do you have anything to say to them?” said Freya. Fawkes scanned the two noble men.

“Are you familiar with the name Firyon Qilan?” he asked with steely eyes.

“This is the name of my clan, and I am the blood heir to its Talic or Throne as you nobles would say” The two men looked at one and another and back at Fawkes. Lord Merek’s face twisted,

“You speak good common for a savage of the desert. I assume Freya lays with beasts like yourself as well?”  Lord Tybalt backed away from the bars as Fawkes face showed hints of anger.

"ah, Lord Tybalt have you just figured out who this is? I’m sure you've heard of this particular Yas’ari. His name is Fawkes Ulrag, the demon of the sands. I’m sure you’ve also heard about the Yas’ari prowess in combat? Well they're hardened at a young age through trials of near torture” Said Freya with a smirk.

“Fawkes would you mind showing these men the way of your people?" Fawkes grunted loudly, and pulled a large knife from his belt. Lord Tybalt backed into the corner whimpering. Lord Merek’s smile disappeared as the look of fear entered his eyes.

"Please, Freya I didn't mean it. I take back everything I said, I’ll even help you" he pleaded.

“just don’t kill me” He cried. Freya laughed lightly, as Tybalt starting weeping.

“Keep that demon away, we’ll tell you everything. just spare us” Cried Lord Tybalt.

"You know, I've heard Yas’ari horns grow with every soul they steal and their golden eyes have magic" taunted Freya enjoying the sight of the lords begging for their lives. Freya pulled out an iron key, and opened the cell door. Freya and Fawkes entered the small cell. The two men backed against the cell wall, sobbing. Fawkes grabbed Merek by the neck and lifted him up against the wall. His knife’s tip started to dig into the man’s ribs centimeter by centimeter. Tybalt rolled into a ball and sobbed as Lord Merek cried out in pain.

“Stop for the love of Arawe, I’ll do whatever you want!” Merek cried out in pain as the knife dug into him. with the snap of Freya’s fingers Fawkes released his grip on the man letting him dropping to the floor. Freya drew saber and slashed Merek’s binding.  

"you may go if you give a message to the fool who warms my throne" said Freya,

"tell him, I intend to take his throne and he has fourty eight hours to get out of my country, however Lord Tybalt you’ll be staying here for an extended visit until I feel we’ve got all the information we need” The man stands shaken, before sprinting as fast as he can down the hallway.

“Come Fawkes, we’ll question our guest after dinner” said Freya as she closed the cell door leaving Lord Tybalt a sobbing mess.  

"Freya, I am confused. Why not kill them and keep playing this game you were informing me about?" asked Fawkes. She turned to Fawkes meeting his questioning gaze, as they exited the cellar back into the courtyard. It was dusk now, and the sky would be going to sleep now.

"I'm taking some Yas'ari advice, and when I'm queen I will break this court, and their silly games" Freya turned her back to the gates and forwards the estate. Flinn approached the pair from behind and cleared his throat to get attention.

“Freya, I’m not sure that was our best action of choice. Have you at least informed the other houses? This could very well mean war between the houses and a race to the throne.” Flinn’s voice showed concern. Freya turned to Flinn with a determined smile.

“don’t think of it as war my dear Flinn, think of it like forced diplomacy” Her words didn’t settle him however, it was hard not to admire her determination as she looked out at the blood red dusk. Freya turned her back to him and notions for Fawkes to follow. A civil war would soon be upon Tamera, and someone was going to burn.  

Author's Note

Once again don't be harsh on my grammar D: it's mostly unedited