...carpe diem...

Writer's Block

2008-05-15T11:38:00.000-07:00

It has been ages since I have last written and that is simply because of my writer's block and numerous other things that have been occuring in my life.

I find myself suddenly at an odd turning point in my life where I finally realize how easy it is to be hurt and how fickle love really is. I never thought I'd be one to fall for another over such a long distance and yet I had and no, it wasn't one of those situations where I knew her for a short time and then "Bam!" No, not at all. I knew her for almost years before we even spouted out our feelings for one another and now...I wonder if all such was a lie.

We have not been quite talkative with one another nor have been affectionate with one another in some time. There was someone else - Is someone else, I believe. I wonder if she's been playing me the fool all along or not but perhaps it is just a silly man's worries. I suppose we shall see when the time comes. For now I'll set aside this money I've been saving for a trip there and consider it before ever fulfilling that dream. I do not want to arrive and have my heart shattered after all.

The Melting Pot

2008-03-01T21:14:00.000-08:00

Dedicated to my mother.
___

Its a beautiful thing really. It has always been this way whenever I had stepped through the threshold of my home and stuffed my hands in my pockets, thumbing on that multimedia player that had sent my earphones thrumming with life. Leaving behind all worries and stress to be shed once crossing that threshold into the world beyond. There are many who have their way of coping with their stress in order to relieve it and settle their mind lest it would overwhelm and take them, destroying everything they knew. Some would jam hours on their instruments or even blast their favorite musician's music until their ears bled. Some even would read or would go along with some online gaming and blast their enemies to bits. Others would shed their stress by sweating it out through the art of physical exertion [You would often find these people taking a walk or jogging] or even those who wrote until their hands cramped. Then there was what I did.

I was unsure who else had done such before I had but all I had known was that ever since I was young I had always been fascinated with the underground network in which had been home to those burrowing snakes of steel and electricity. That serpentine labyrinth I called my touchstone to peace had been New York City's very own subway.

I don't know what it was in particular. Maybe it was the roar and screech of the carts on their tracks. The shudder and shake of the ground underneath my feet and rush of wind that struck home, tugging at your clothing when it came ever so close to crushing you where you were standing on that red or yellow line marked as a warning to those who were passerby. And despite the warning I would often find myself standing there to feel my heart thrum to life one more time. Or maybe it was what I saw on that platform and within those carts that changed me and settled my mind, putting me to peace.

People spoke of America as the melting pot, but I have been to other states, albeit not all of them, and nothing brought me closer to what the melting pot could have been then the subway could. To say the least it was magnificent and would often leave me awe struck at what I could find.

I have seen all walks of life on those various trains that raced from uptown to downtown and across the city and boroughs. All walks of life. I had thought such things impossible and yet when I stood there and looked upon quiet, laughing and or silent faces, all in which sat and settled or stood as I had. I could see dozens and hundreds of different souls all settled into one place. The tug of war of emotions within was magnificent to look upon and see the contrast of differences there. The people.

There was always that one person who listened to their music almost a bit too loudly. You would always wonder if they were attempting to intentionally make themselves permanently deaf. Most likely they had bobbed their head to some cool-headed thrum of a beat by their favorite latest artist. These were often than not younger teens and adults that you would find spitting rhymes or simply tapping their foot and swaying to that beat with eyes shut. Idly I wonder if they were drowning out any urges and feelings that I had. Maybe that was why I hid behind a facade as I looked upon those around me.

Then there were peddlers attempting to sell their wares on the train, attempting to get by on a few measly dollars. These were often young-adults who had attempted to sell candy bars for their basketball team or other after school function that many chose to ignore unless actually craving some snickers bar. But for some reason they were always out and only had peanut M&M's or that one candy that no one cared for. Then there were those who had begun to sell pirated DVDs there and then. I hear those are good now, the quality I mean. I suppose if you don't have a date or time to waste on a Friday night to see the next big movie then you would eventually flag one of these people down for a look at their library of movies. It reminded me of how much easier I had my life now as I dug my hand into my pocket, fingertips brushing against folded paper money.

Let me not forget the beggars and homeless. What had overwhelmed them in this life that had led them to this point? If I had the change I often gave it up to them after they told their heart-string pulling story. Often or not they were people who were sick, tired, hungry and alone. Only wanting enough to get by on and survive another day in the concrete urban jungle that was New York City. Often than not these people were ignored and thrown aside as if they were naught more than trash. It was sickening to watch them ignored because I knew if I had been in that similar situation I would have wished someone would help me. If what little coin could bring some semblance of peace to someone's soul then they could have it. It reminded me that my life was not so harsh. I would have a home to return to at the end of the day.

Then my gaze would find another as the train had come to a halt and the beggar would leave onto the next cart to retell his story. I silently would give my prayer in hopes he would have enough to fill his belly tonight as my eyes settled upon that of a young woman. She was dressed for business and naught else. Her hair clasped and face bright, lips pursed together. Her black shoes clean and slacks settled about her comfortably with her purse slung over her shoulder. Her blazer was snug and buttoned and head held high. She gave me a smile when she found my watching her. I couldn't help but smile back.Where did she come from today? Work? No doubt some high rise corporation building from looking upon what she wore. Things were going well for her and with naught to complain of. Some people had it easier than others. I wasn't jealous, no, I was happy for the woman who stood in front of me awaiting her stop. I still had my own goals to reach.

Ding.

Times Square.

Time to move.

Now this was where the fun began where one would see the sudden rush of people entering and filling the cart. Often I moved more toward the middle where I would find myself pinned and crushed between others, gasping for air and a handhold to ensure I wouldn't fall face first onto the floor and embarrass myself. It felt like a game and I believe I became good at it for I was able to squeeze into the smallest of places without much trouble. I'm not exactly sure if that's something to brag about though.

Here you would see those of a dozen races and ethnicities. Those of all walks of life. How I loved looking upon tourists and foreigners and their wide smiles as they spoke in some language I couldn't quite make out. Their wide eyes spoke of wonders uncovered and things having been seen. I would wonder what they saw that day. Had they been to the Metropolitan Museum or Art? Or possibly just Central Park. Maybe they visited FAO Schwarz or had gone for a broadway play earlier in the day. Then I wondered when I would leave the country and brave the sea or wide air to visit Rome. I've always wanted to go there.

And then things had begun to clear when we had come closer to Canal Street. I wasn't surprised. It mostly always did and it allowed me the chance to steal a seat until my stop came. This was when I had often seen young or older couples together, gathered against one another and nestling, speaking of fond memories or future events while touching one another in such affectionate ways that it couldn't help but make you smile and wish you had such in return. I couldn't remember the last time I had touched someone in such a way...It made me feel old and alone. There was much more to the world than this.

Then my stop. Leaving behind my seat and those couples behind to mount the stair well and cross to the opposite end of the tracks so that I may make my trek home. In which usually the journey took from forty five to an hour and fifteen minutes total more or less depending on arrival and departure of the train. I never complained though. I wasn't going anywhere. But this was where I found that one young lady who had been attempting to drag up her baby carriage with no such luck. I helped her. My back wouldn't break if I did so, I wouldn't feel the same if I watched either her or her child hurt themselves. The babe was mewling in the stroller and the woman smiled her thanks before I moved on. I wondered if I would ever have a child.

This was where I would often seek a bench and settle myself down when I did finally reach the opposite end of the tracks and awaited my train. This was where I would find that newspaper that someone had left after having purchased with their own coin rummaged from their pocket that morning. How many hands had this paper turned? I would ask myself when flipping through it before watching the train come. I would come to my feet and leave it there for no doubt someone else would find more use of it than I had.

I watched the world pass before me stop after stop and watched all walks of life pass before my very eyes. I had watched love, triumph, sorrow and anger show in the faces of many within that number 6 train. I had watch different people linger with others and in their own ways cope with their life. I had shed my stress and worries when I had crossed the threshold to step into the world and now, before long, I would find myself crossing back indoors to shed my coat and shut the door, locking it securely before turning to motion up the stairwell.

Looking upon the melting pot made me realize that I may still have the strength to continue on. Maybe next time i'll enjoy my life a little bit more than I had. Maybe i'll broaden my possibilities and horizons and take a risk and attempt to reach a goal I had thought unthinkable. Maybe i'll find love unintentionally out in the streets of the city because as we all know stranger things have happened. This world that I now live in seems a little bit less cold now as I rubbed my hands together and stepped further into my home to gaze upon a brother I did not see eye to eye with that morning. But we were used to such things and so we only smiled mildly at one another, inclining our heads in assent and silent apology.

Before long though I had soon sought the phone to make a call to someone I had argued with that afternoon. To make an apology that must be done. My brother having left me there to do what I must in privacy although he said not a thing, I was sure he knew. I awaited through the ringing after having thumbed the number and pressed my forehead against the door jamb near by as I always tended to do when on the phone. Eyes shut and brow furrowed until I heard the phone pick up on the other side finally.

“Hello?”

The voice came through the ear piece and I fell silent only momentarily before finding myself.

“Hi, mom. Its me.”

Looking upon the melting pot made me realize life was too short for silly quarrels.

World War II Historical Fiction

2008-02-29T15:07:00.000-08:00

Since yesterday i've been struck with a want and will to write a historical fiction of World War II, well, a tribute to the brave who landed on Omaha and Utah beaches on June 6th, 1944 otherwise known as D-Day: Operation Overlord.

I've always had a fondness of learning our world's history and World War II has always been my center of attention for such and i've only expanded my studies further and engrossed myself lately in much of it as of late to deliver an indepth feel of the war and battle that had taken place on that day. I want to pull the reader down into the dirt and grit of it and give that 'I don't want to be here' overwhelming feeling. I hope to only deliver an incredible writing and will work on this writing for some time before actually posting it up for others to read.

Like I said before i've always been taken by the events that had happened in and around World War II and I hope I could do justice to the brave soldiers who charged those beaches on that early foggy morning.

Update

2008-02-28T17:23:00.001-08:00

I'm just writing down a quick update on my work as of late and that would be that Chapter V of 'Forlorn Throne' should be almost finished but besides that I have been wetting my nose in foreign territory in an attempt to expand my horizons by way of touching new genres.

Which new genre would you ask?

Poetry.

Never have been too good for such things and nor have I ever thought I would have the lovey-dovey or emotion value that would be required but if you had looked over my last post then you would have seen my attempt at it although i'm quite skeptical on how it had come out. In my mind it seemed rather loving and touching and utterly near flawless and I hoped that I was able to translate it just right from my mind and down onto paper for my readers. Hopefully i'll receive some criticism from the editred community on it soon enough.

As for my other works most have been put on hiatus with a slight except on 'Lore of the Prince' which has been settled on a rough draft and set aside for mass exploration by way of research. You wouldn't even want to know what i've been going through to flesh out the land, world and peoples who inhabited it to make it all whole.

As a note I would like to also pass on the information that if I do not have new works posted on my blogspot as of yet then you may find them on my editred: http://www.editred.com/ephemeral But this does not mean it won't be posted on here too for it would be sooner or later when I have the chance.

And as for a side note. If you're an upcoming writer who feels the need for criticism and critiques from other experienced and upcoming writers to broaden your horizons then I urge you explore editred. It has been a wonderful community to me so far.

Enchaînement

2008-02-28T05:20:00.000-08:00

Disclaimer: All content belongs to Verity.

She was a young lass, beautiful and fey, lithe and very much the sylph whilst she swayed to and fro to the ivory keys and arpeggios that filled the chamber - She was but a waitress aspiring to become the greatest of dancers – Free and unchained in this world she sought to be. A unity of utter elation and bliss, magnificent euphoria. Clean and perfect whilst that passion for Baryshnikov showed within her step, that longing to become something she had wished as she threw herself into the routine of the allegro.

She was but a young lass seeking to better herself and reach for that which was just beyond her sights whilst a lad with such heady infatuation had promised such dreams for her, such high hopes whilst he pressed the ivory keys and his foot had nestled upon the pedal. Such dreams he had encouraged within her as curled fingertips stroked the keys of that finely tuned instrument that had settled before him.

It had seemed days had turned to weeks and weeks to months when he had scowled lest his passion make a slave of him yet no longer could he hold it when she bared herself to him within her dance, that utter and overbearingly searing emotion of dance as she had performed her arabesque flawlessly, leaving him stunned and in awe when the sun caught upon her sable tresses and graced her flesh. He had averted his gaze lest he lose himself within her and lest he find himself entertaining thoughts that would soil her and bury the seed that would one day be the product of their union. Nay, he would not allow his passion to overwhelm him. He wouldn't allow that heady pleasure that he found when looking upon her settle within his senses and blind him. But speaking of such things would always be much easier than acting them out. She was much too tempting. She the siren and he her sailor.

Magnificent she was when she had swayed to and fro within his grasp as they had clasped to one another as young lovers would. Aye, he would oft recall that day when he had held her for the first time with his hands clasping her shoulders and his chest crushing her breast whilst his mouth caught her own to drink of her sweet ambrosia. Her voice cried out in oh so sweet clarity when he had stroked his fingertips, hands curled along subtle curves.

Her scent was overwhelming – She was his intoxicant and he had lost himself within her very being as he recalled the taste of mouth, flesh, breast and hand. The scent of her hair, skin and breath and even the feel and set of that long slender column of her throat, shoulders and waist. Those subtle curves ever tempting and the softness of her mouth alluring. The euphoria and elation that had come with such was overbearing and utter blissful as they had sung their song in unity and collapsed together in a mingling of limbs as they had come down from their high to settle against one another in a soft harmony of heavy breaths. Hands brushing, touching ever so softly and ever exploring that flesh that had thrummed with new found life in the wake of callused hands. She was a mewling cat there underneath his touch, content as she could ever be with naught else to ask for.

“My heart is yours,” he had whispered his soft confession fervently against her ear and she had shivered visibly throughout before gazing upward upon him with that pleasantly breathless smile that had come from coupling. “And mine yours.” She had murmured huskily, eyes warm with fondness whilst they lay within one another's arms with noses brushing over one another, brow to brow and breath coming quick as their glistening forms nestled and pressed. Their scent mingling. They chased away the cold and darkness in which surrounded them when naught else but the moonlight spilled forth from the parted drapery to touch their joined bodies.

Her mouth had raised with reluctance from his having buried against his chest and heeding the beat of his heart and had come closer. Her breath had made him shiver when it rolled upon his naked skin when lips had barely touched in her wake of shifting. Lips parting, mouth ajar as his tongue tasted her scent and eyes rolled, half lidded and head lolled to her inviting mouth as it had graced his ear. Her voice came husky and pitched low for his ears only to murmur that soft sweet nothing.

“What would tomorrow be without you?”

Forlorn Throne: Chapter IV

2008-02-22T19:52:00.000-08:00

Disclaimer: Forlorn Throne and all its contents belong to Verity.

Dedicated to my overseas muse Roxana.

Forlorn Throne

Chapter IV
The Pledge

...I have told them all that I believe was the right of it. They know of my true name and my origin. Idly I wonder if they suspect that I have not told all. Of course they would...Of course. They were not half-wits but are magnificent beings. Lihan and Scarlett had done something that was unforeseen. They lived this far, passing their time that would rightfully make them.

The children are quite promising as well, Amyas' stock that is. I believe Artemis will be an articulate and well on lass. Aubrey shows promise to be a prized knight and possibly adventurer in his time much like Lihan's Julian. But something troubles me as of late with the children -- Althea and Julian that is. They have had sleeping fits and I suspect that Lihan has as well. I will have to look into such things, ah, the children have arrived for their lessons, I will continue on this at a later time.

- Journal Excerpt of Scribe Garland, the Gray Priest

He awoke in the morning with a groan, he did not believe he had gotten much sleep but that did not matter. His had sought the lump where the leather bound journal lay underneath him, there it was, sound. He lay his weary head down and let out a sigh, just a bit longer, he told himself. But no, he slipped his legs reluctantly from bed and dropped his face into his hands, rubbing at his weariness. He looked over the room, it was as he had left it, somewhat, an empty bottle and glass, his thing set down by the table and hearth fire had gone out to embers. The sun had spilled into the room.

His mind was clear, the dull throb of pain where he had once fallen had become nothing but a faint whisper, and he slipped fingers through his hair, fingertips searching until they came to the spot. Not just that, but things were clear now, it was not all a dream. He knew what he must do but first he must fill himself and bathe, he must look presentable.

He had eaten, it was a simple meal, warmly baked bread stuffed with bits of dried fruit and nuts along with a small bowl of steaming broth, after he had carried in buckets of water his bath and scrubbed himself clean, wiping all the dirt of the road from his body and hair before using his belt knife to shave with a small bit of looking glass, it was not much but served its purpose. Soon enough he had emptied the wooden tub and wash basin in which he had used to shave. Dressing he had smoothed down his clothing and hair, brushing it from his face. When next he had looked at himself in the mirror he was a much more
presentable man.

Clean shaven, washed from the road, his turquoise eyes dark with the burden and task he must carry, his auburn hair, peppered with gray, brushed back from his face and smoothed down in tousled curls. He set aside the mirror and looked about the room, fetching the journal he stuffed it into his satchel, hoping it would provide clues to where the remaining journals or work would lead to the King’s true heir, along with that he slipped away his belt knife and sword at his other hip, his cloak pulled tight to somewhat hide away the satchel that rested on the small of his back. Pleased with himself he looked over the room one last time and left it behind.

It was a trek to the castle of Haven; it loomed above all, peering down upon the reaches of the town within its protective walls. Its towers pierced the skies, giving sight of the lands, sloping and rising, falling and turning, forested hills, grasslands as far as the eye can sea, wavering like the sea and endless skies. He pulled the cloak around him more tightly to fend off any chill air that seemed to pick and pluck at his clothing. Closer he came to the inner walls of Haven that protected its castle; in truth he had never seen such a point for such inner thicker walls to be built, in his lifetime no one had truly dared to besiege Haven or attempt a breach of their walls. But he oddly wondered, there may come a time when such would be needed. He passed under the gates, the rusted murder holes, unused for decades; a guard nodded him inside hurriedly as he had begun to cross over the wooden bridge, a moat of murky water passing under. Once more he had passed another gate, lifted and its stone hall thick and cool with shade, his steps ringing off the cobbled stones, arrow slits upon either wall, three sets of murder holes, he had
wondered when had last boiling oil passed through such to sear the enemy.

Sunlight found him upon the other side of the gates, the court yard where once peace lingered was now strewn with chaos. Horses and carriages were drawn up the lane to the wide steps that led to the large oaken doors. Servants rushed here and there at the beck of their lords and ladies and those of the castle’s own seemed hurried and overwhelmed, suddenly he had wondered if he could avoid any servant or guard at all and head straight for Uriel’s old chambers. He slowed his steps, no one had truly noticed him, his eyes searched the area until he had spotted servants filing in and out of a door, carrying in barrels and casks, no doubt for a feast to accommodate those who had visited. Slowly he made his way and awaited his chance, he watched one of the servants lift a cask and pull it inside, he followed suit, taking one himself, lest someone spot him at an odd moment, he quietly slipped inside.

It was small a hall that led to the kitchens, the sounds of the head cook rose amongst shuffle of pots and pans, crackling fire and sizzling meat, rich and full, being readied for the feast. He followed the line of servants, the door swung closed behind him, but they did not lead to the kitchens and he was glad for that for he did not wear the royal blue of Haven, inside he followed them to a spiral stair case, they had begun to file downstairs, one muttering about the back breaking work, he set down his cask, judging that is was filled with salted meat. He ghosted up the steps, hoping it would give way to somewhere he could safely take himself through deeper into the castle.

The steps were serpentine, curling ever upward and if it weren’t for his haste he would not have had to stop for a rest. But finally it had come, some five stories upward he judged there was finally a door that he was greeted with. Carefully he nudged it open and peeked out into the hall, empty. It must be the servant’s quarters, he decided as he nudged it further open and stepped out into the warmth of the hall. Sconces hugged the wall at intervals, the stone behind it darkened from where flames lapped during the night.

He took one cautious step and found himself in front of opened shutters, he peered down onto the court yard, the chaos had begun to die, a door lurched open nearby. Two chattering women, arms full with clean linen in their arms as they gossiped and walked to the staircase and down, he had pressed himself into the corner of a wall, luckily they had not noticed him. Amyas knew he must leave the servant’s wing with haste.

In his time of serving in Uriel’s war band he had only known the castle in a small way, though he was sure that if he was as wanton of most of Uriel’s soldiers he would have known the servant’s wing well if he had bedded any. He smiled wryly at that thought; how young had he had been when love struck him? No, enough of those thoughts, there is a task at hand. He thought to himself as he ghosted down the hall, peeking carefully around each corner before continuing, luckily he had not been challenged, fate was upon his side this day, it seemed.

On and on he went, winding through the halls, a number of times he had nearly been spotted but luckily he had quickly spirited away into another hall, pressing to the shadows and wall until they had passed. He did not belong here, dismissed he was and home he should be, he didn’t doubt that he would be considered suspiciously if he were to be found lurking about. But soon he was in the main body of Haven’s castle, his feet carrying him upward through the stone stair ways and passages, ever closer to the King’s chambers, to where he had last reported to Uriel as captain to his war band.

There he found it, the double doors to the King’s chambers, shut and draped with a black veil for mourning, so…Norvelle had not taken his father’s chambers yet? Possibly the smell of death lurched the boy’s heart, for he doubted it was for simple mourning reasons that he had not claimed the spacious area. He went forth carefully, peering up and down the hall before standing before the veil, the only thing that kept him from the truth of things. He lifted the veil, the door was bared to him, his hands fell upon it, veil falling behind him, it felt as light as cobwebs. He pushed, the door was unlatched, of course…Sunlight bathed him as he stepped inside, pushing the doors shut behind him.

These were the chambers he had last saw his King alive, the man who had given him a chance in this life, given him stability. He made a step towards the bed, the white silken drapes drawn back to reveal the large feather bed, fresh white linen covered it. The smell of sickness and death no longer lingered as it had that day he had come to report, no doubt they had aired out the chambers. He had forgotten why he had been there…Why he had come to visit these spacious and rich chambers of his lost King. An old and tattered chair stood forlornly before the empty hearth, a portrait of an endless green sea, wavering tall grass whilst a sky of an array of strewn colors melded together had been placed above the hearth. Had his King sat there night after night, drinking tea whilst staring into that painting? Delving into a land where he had wished to be?

He had always wondered how life would be to be King, to reign over a realm and to have folk simply wait upon you hand and foot. But he had deemed it a life style he would not willingly partake in. Of course it had its splendid points but there were too many things with it that did not bode well for him. His eyes traveled from the hearth to Uriel’s dresser, a large ornate and gilt framed mirror stood upon it, fashioned magnificently. Small wooden and masterfully crafted boxes were spread out, jewelry and vials of scents and a crown, elaborate and ornately fashioned with leaping griffons, and a leviathan curling about it, before winding around the feet of two clawing beasts where a jewel of red blood settled, emeralds and sapphires decorating as glinting eyes across the rest. It still lay here, untouched by Norvelle. The crown, it was so lovely in all its glory, he nearly dared to touch but did not as he snatched his hand back to his side and looked over the once more, turning in a full circle. Just to think…This was where he last spoke to his King.

Suddenly he remembered why he had come and slipped his satchel from his back and upon the floor, undoing the catch he pulled out Uriel’s journal and held it in his hand as he came back to his feet. There were three doors, one led to an antechamber and the other two led to a study and privy chamber. Hitching the satchel onto his shoulder he had found the study room and entered, softly closing the door behind him. There were shelves pressed against the wall and some standing away from it to create aisles, besides that, a chandelier hung from the ceiling and a small heart, untouched in many days. Where a desk lay there were two doors behind it, filled with ornate pane glasses that led out to the balcony that looked over the gardens. He set down his satchel once more and this time upon the desk were blank sheets of parchment stood and pots of ink, a quill and candle. His eyes fell upon the shelves and suddenly he knew there was more than enough work ahead of him.

It was easy enough to begin with. He simply needed to search for where the man kept his journals, though there were more than enough books, all he needed to truly do was to sort them out and luckily Uriel had done most of the work for him. One book shelf was full of leather bound books of history of the land which started with King Uriel and the accounts of the Crusader William Teimlia, there were a number of novels that spoke of the man but one thing to note was an original copy of Evelyn’s writing of William Teimlia sitting amongst them, it looked old enough that he dared not risk to touch lest it turn to dust. The next shelf was filled with poetry, which he skipped across. There was another book shelf of literature and others of land charts and sea charts, he was near to giving up until he had passed by the poetry section and found an odd book amongst the crowd. Why did he not see it before?

It was crammed tightly between two thick volumes and unlike Uriel’s other journal it was rather thin and puny, the leather of it was worn and shabby. He pulled it out and lifted the cover to peek at the first page. Uriel’s journal, it was his first. He flipped through the pages curiously without truly reading just simply noting if Uriel had truly filled it and suddenly something had fell from it. He stepped back as it whispered through the air and touched the ground. It was a folded piece of parchment, sealed with wax and the sign of Haven.

He stooped to pick it up and held it close. He tried to peek but couldn’t quite do so, he would need fire but did not dare to light one here lest someone scent it upon the air or come in and note that there was a change, though he was sure they would note it if this book was gone…Then again, he had not noticed it himself as he had skipped the shelf. He slipped the folded parchment back into the book and into his satchel.

___

“I saw her…Just yesterday…She was asleep. I carried her to bed and tucked her in…She looked so peaceful in her sleep.” “And so she did when she left us. There is not much we can do lad, we will promise you a clean burial for your mother, she was well respected in her life time, loved amongst the people.” There were no more tears, even if he had tried to summon them, he was simply…Dry. She had gone so silently during the night…He had awakened to a new day simply to be taken down once more…Was life so horrid? He knew this time would eventually come, that his mother was aging and as of late she had seemed drowned in sorrow, as for what, he simply did not know.

Elyse had found his mother in bed, her face smoothed from lines of worries, making her seem younger than ever…She seemed elated and still, as if she had a pleasant dream before she had passed, as if she had found something she had searched for, for far too long. Elyse had called upon the priests to bless her body and take her to ready for her burial. They simply deemed it as natural causes and simply her time to pass, the god’s will and no one can go against that.

He roamed the halls of his home…He remembered when he was just a lad and had been running through these very halls, his mother giving chasing, hitching her skirts as she ran after him and he laughed and she giggled as she chased him. How she kept him in her litter when they traveled through town and how she fed him grapes and scratched his belly…Told him great stories of a magnificent King and warriors and soldiers…Oh…He leaned against the window sill, hands upon it as he held himself up and caught his breath.

“Amadeus?” It was Elyse; she set her old hand upon his shoulder “Is there anything I can do for you?” “Not at all Elyse, I apologize for my mood. I believe I will be going out for now.” He lifted his eyes to the woman, she still held loyalty to his mother even in death, he doubted she had family to return to…He was her family. “Feel free to rest and take your time for the day Elyse.” He forced a smile and pressed a kiss upon her cheek. “I will return soon to join you for tea” “I would enjoy that, Amadeus. Please take care.” She watched him leave.

The day was chill, as if the world around him knew what had happened to him, this loss that churned within him like an empty void. He pulled his cloak about him tightly and walked.

"Oh, Ama, such a horrid thing it is." She comforted him with a hand on his back, peering over the balcony with him. The tavern was busy once more and brandy gave him enough spirit to warm his body from the chill. "If there is anything you need, you know I will be here." "I know that, Elynor. You've always been so kind to me." She herself could only smile at those words when she heard the tender's voice raise in a cry for her to come down. "It looks like he needs me. Now, don't you go anywhere, Ama. I will be back in no time and we will have a talk." "Yes ma'am." She wrinkled her nose and disappeared back into The Sylph.

___

He tugged his cloak tightly about him, his heart settled, hiding away his satchel where it bounced against his back with every step. He had left the castle behind, somehow he had managed to sneak inward and steal from Uriel's personal study his journal. The item that would hold the answer and be the first step into advancing on this quest and ridding of Norvelle. After all, it was what his King had intended, no? There was only one way to find out and that would be returning to his room at the Inn and spending another night of endless reading.

So he walked whilst the chill wind tugged at his cloak and clothing, he lowered his head to the wind and hunched his shoulders, accepting the resistance.

Then that was when he saw it.

"Out of the way, out!" Someone roared in frustration as he was shouldering his way through the thick of the crowd and soon others followed him in the colours of the city guard. He halted and watched and soon found him following them as many others did to see what had happened. Then he found them, the townfolk had gathered in a half circle, surrounding some small pub, he pushed through to the edge of the crowd and then stilled at what he saw before him.

Johan.

He lay there before him, his shirt had been torn apart and his gut was slit across the naval, his intestines hanging over his belt, his trousers were stained in blood and his face was bloody, puss oozing from the gash that stretched across the crown of his head. The pub's owner stood upon the stair well, overlooking Johan with wide eyes and a look of terror. Johan lay there, spread out in a bloody mess whilst one of the city guard took to the stair well and had begun to earnestly question the keeper while the others swept the area and had begun to push back the crowd that had gathered while he himself fled the scene.

It was a warning, Johan had slipt up and showed his true purpose in this town and Norvelle had ended him for his insolence. He bent his head and hid his face by shutting his eyes and lifting the collar of his cloth to bury his face into, hunching his shoulders and tugging the cloak ever more tightly about himself. It was obvious that Norvelle was seeking complete obedience from the people of Haven and that anyone who thought to disobey his order and rule would suffer harsh repercussions.

He instantly latched his door shut when he entered his room and quickly went through and sifted through his things. None of it had been disturbed and for good measure he slipped one chair against the door as he stepped back and covered the windows. It was then that he had realized that he could not do this alone, that he would need help from others, somehow. He didn't believe it would be hard to win people to his cause, if Norvelle was willing to display his outrage in public by having Johan slaughtered than that must have meant there were many others openly rebelling the idea of Norvelle on the throne and that, of course, Norvelle wouldn't risk a massacre in his Kingdom, it would dirty the crown and in turn give them reason to rid of him.

Thanks to Uriel's rule that free speech be allowed, Norvelle could not do much anyway though he must have thought atleast taking one ring leader out would send a warning throughout the others. Not to mention the fact that it was well placed. All the city guard had to do was agree that Johan was drunk and possibly had gotten into a fight with some cut throats or even another at the pub. The pub's keeper finding him was almost impecable and perfect, for if Johan was at the pub earlier in the night or that day, he could vouch for where the man was and with a bit of coaxing or encouraging could agree that he had drunk enough to make him somewhat wayward that night.

It was too perfect, too clearly seen. It was obvious that Norvelle's hand was in this...Or was it just some cruel fate that ended Johan? He poured himself a jot of brandy and downed it instantly, its warmth spread throughout his chest and gut. Eyes shut, hands upon the table as he undid his cloak and set down his satchel, undoing its ties. He had to do this simply for Johan if anyone, he had risked his life and because of it died in the name of the King underneath some false ruler.

He took the journal and went to the fire with bottle of brandy and small glass in hand as he settled onto the hearth stones and coaxed a fire to life to his liking. It was warm enough to chase the chill from the room and his bones as his hands were outstretched to it, legs crossed as he sat there. He stared into the fire quietly for a long moment, considering it as it danced along the logs idly, crackling and splitting it as the embers glowed.

It was a moment longer before he poured himself another jot of brandy and downed it, refilling the glass once more before taking up the book into his hands and lap, he sifted through the pages until he found the folded and sealed parchment, he took it up and eyed the seal, turning the folded parchment this way and that. It was old, to say the least, how long ago had his King signed this? Written it, even? How many knew of its truth? Certainly there was a witness, there was always a witness.

He looked down to the open book where he had taken the folded parchment from. If he read on he would be diving himself into dangers unknown, learning of his King's mind and of things only men dared to know of their Lord...This would give him the answer he sought become the first step to approach the fall of Norvelle. The first step that would possibly even mean his own death.

He had been reading for some time and suspected that he had dozed off for in the next instant he had startled to the harsh whispers that rose and drifted up the stairwell. The fire had died to a low glow of embers in the kindle.He slowly sat up, brow furrowing in concentration as he tried to make sense of the talking down below and instantly came up to his feet when her heard approaching foot falls that ascended the stair well. He stuffed away the journals and letter underneath his bedding just when a curt knock came at the door. He tried to calm himself and did manage to steady before replying. "Who is it?" "Open up." Was the only reply and he straightened himself before taking up the brandy bottle and glass and setting it on the shelf. He unlatched and opened the door to be greeted by the city guard.

He was glad that they asked him to leave his room and settle downstairs at a table for a short talk, this way he would be in public and as long as he stood calm and answered their questions he wouldn't have any reason to leave and leave the eyes of the patrons and risk well...Death, in any way. Not that he blamed the city guard but certainly someone had found him here and suggested that he might be a witness or...Suspect.

"What're you doing, Sir Amyas?" "I've come to collect the remaining of my things and receive the remaining of my wages." "Is that so?" Amyas nodded over his mug of ale. "We have reason to believe you have come at the beck of Johan." Amyas raised a brow, feigning ignorance. "Johan? Captain of the King's Guard?" "That is right." "I'm sorry, fellows. I know the man but I have not come here to treat with him." "You were Captain of the King's Warband." "That is so." "You have been dismissed before the King's passing, then why are you here?" "Are you not listening to me?" Amyas asked of him with a sigh and drank from his mug. The guard interrogating him here infront of all sat across from him whilst his partner stood near the door, most like to ensure that Amyas did not leave at a breaking run. But he wouldn't run, no, he had no reason...Though he did.

"You were spotted at the murder scene earlier in the day." He hoped he was not spotted, idly he wondered if he was...But even then. "I was and so many others were. It was a gruesome sight" The guard nodded in agreement to Amyas words. "Johan life ended earlier this day, Amyas, do you know anything of it?" "No." "We have reason to believe you were with him the day before then. Now, Amyas, please...Tell us the truth. Johan has...Had many enemies as of late ever since the change and the King's death. Without his old position and be treated wrongly...Well, he has openly went against Norvelle..." Amyas let out a sigh and looked away, so...The guard knew much of Johan, idly he wondered if he was friends with Johan in a way.

His eyes fell back upon the guard in regard. If he played this right it would settle things and not just that but send the attention that was on him, away, not just that but the guard seemed intent upon finding the truth. "I was. He had found out I was in town and sought me out, I didn't come to him. We drank and he complained of the King." Amyas looked about and leaned closer, hand on his mug. "Do you think...Do you think someone might have killed him because he was becoming...Too...loud?"
The guard looked from his left and to his right before leaning close to Amyas, eyes upon the man's own. "Do you know something, Amyas? Something you aren't telling me?" "No, but I have reason to believe that Johan knew something that he shouldn't have. Something he was silenced for." Amyas replied in a voice pitched low for the guard's ears only.

The guard looked intent and then away as if unsure these words should be spoken. It was treason...Treason to speak these words aloud, it resulted in punishment and possibly even death at worse. He took in a deep breath and steadied, looking at Amyas who in turn leaned back. "I will be looking into Johan death, Amyas. And I hope you would not leave anytime soon...Otherwise you give me reason to suspect you. I hope you would continue to cooperate with me." The guard said while Amyas was silent and slowly nodded. "I will...Uh..." "Rhys." Amyas nodded "I'll be here, Rhys. You know where to find me."

Amyas was more than glad to watch the men leave him there, he looked down at his hands as they were clasped together. So...What now? He would be watched, he didn't doubt, if he left they would know...Was this his destiny? Was this supposed to happen? What of his family? Idly he finally thought that he should pen to them a letter, to tell his wife that he was fine and ask of the children and how they and she enjoyed Achorn Hill, to ask after Lihan and of Scarlett and their little ones. His eyes shut, falling into deep thought. After a moment, he stood from his chair and left, hoping a brisk walk would settle his thoughts and offer an answer to what he could do to extend his hand, knowing he would need the strength of many soon enough.

___

He stumbled and could not contain his laughter, if it weren't for Elynor supporting his weight with his arm draped across her shoulders he was sure that he would have fallen by now. He had his fill of liquor even though Elynor was always against him drinking so much but this night she had been busy and could not keep her eyes on him. She didn't have the heart to let him go alone home either as well for after learning of knews of a drunkard being murdered the other night, she just couldn't bring herself to do it. It was chill and dark except for the lit lanterns at intervals that illuminated the cobbled streets.

"...And thats when I told him, "En Garde!" And parried his blade and struck him twice in the chest!" Amadeus said, even demonstrating with his hand and ending up stumbling as he did a quick motion forwards, laughing as Elynor attempted to keep him up right. "Ama!" She rebuked him with a furrow of her brow and a glare. Amadeus looked away, instantly cowed. "I'm sorry, Elynor." "Its alright...We'll get you home soon enough, Ama." She murmured and hitched his arm more comfortably across her shoulders as she walked.

It seemed an eternity and despite the empty streets she felt an everending fall in the pit of her belly. Then it had happened.
"What do ya got there, lass? Oh...Look who it is, its that courtesan's boy." Someone spoke, a harsh whisper, voice pitched low. He stepped free of the shadows to join them when Elynor stopped underneath a lantern, Amadeus peered about until his eyes fell upon the stranger who had come to halt their way. Amadeus' once cheerful looked seemed a ghost in his empty gaze.

"What do you want?" Elynor spoke up, glaring at the man in the most threatening look she could muster, she had not noticed until the man took another step closer to the ring of light that he had been fingering at a dagger in his hand, the firelight of the lantern caught it almost perfectly, glimmering off of its surface. Elynor took a step back with Amadeus in tow only to hear a voice from behind. "The lad, lass. You can go, just dump him where you are." She jumped and stepped forwards, turning so their backs were to the lantern's holding pole. She looked from one to the other.

"What do you want of me?" Amadeus called out to them, slipping his arm free of Elynor and standing tall...Or trying to do so, mustering the strength through the blinding amount of alcohol he had consumed. "We'll tell you once your lass is on her way." The first said. Amadeus looked down onto Elynor who seemed willing to stay and didn't listen to a word Amadeus uttered even after he told her he would be okay. She knew better.

"We don't have all night!" The second snarled, stepping closer just as the first did. Closing the cap from either side. "If you won't leave then you'll be enjoying us right after, lass." The first hissed and bared his blade, inching closer as Elynor was then pushed behind Amadeus. Though he stunk of liquor an almost regal air overtook him as he stood there. It wouldn't been a story of fairy tales if he weren't drunk and they in the midst of some rotten alley way surrounded by most like cut throats...But no, they knew him, somehow, and wanted something from him no doubt.

"You had your chance, boy." The first warned and lunged forth. Amadeus caught him by the wrist, pulling him with force and allowing the man to harmless skid by whilst the other came at him, receiving a crack across the head with the hilt of the dagger. Elynor cried out in dismay and before the dagger could be brought down with a bared blade on the slumping Amadeus, she caught the second by the wrist, fighting the man's strength while the other returned to grab her by the waist, pulling at her. "Get her off!" Snarled the second, trying to wring his wrist away and end Amadeus who was on hands and knees, dizzying. The second still managed to hit him by simply kicking his gut, sending Amadeus to sprawl back down with a groan, curling up and clenching at his side.

Finally the first was able to pull her free of the second, she was tossed against the stone wall, pinned with a hand wrapping about her mouth to muffle her cries as the man pressed to her and harshly whispered by hear ear. "You had your chance, lass." Tears had threatened her eyes, and she could not contain them from streaking her cheeks as she watched the other approach Amadeus with a smart kick across the head, sending Amadeus into rolling onto a side and curling further. The blade was lifting slowly, a harsh smile on the man's mouth and then it came falling down.

Elynor was unsure what to call what had happened next. A miracle, possibly, or just complete happenstance. She was near to sobbing wildly, watching Amadeus' last moments alive when a man had joined the frenzy. She had seen brawls and bar fights before but never something so bloody as what had happened next. The man's peppering auburn hair shone to near copper underneath the dancing lantern light when he came into view and skewered the second man through the gut with a harsh thrust, the blade falling from their attacker's hands as he sought to clamp his hands down on his gut and upon the blade that impaled him but it wasn't long till he had slipped free of the blade with an aided press of a foot by the unknown vigilante.

Kicked off his blade, his bared sword glinted a carmine red in the lantern light, the first man was already releasing to join the frenzy with his bared dagger. He raised it and brought it down smartly toward the vigilante in an downward stab which was parried away. Skillfully the vigilante spun his blade around, tucking his sword the other way so now he held the hilt forth and thrusted it deep into the gut of the cut throat with such force that it actually had lifted him and he fell to the ground winded and dropping his weapon, no doubt that the strike had landed on his kidney and he would be pissing blood for a week.

She was slumped against the wall sobbing, watching in pure terror before she managed to gather herself and crawl towards Amyas, clutching at him and pulling his bloody head into her lap as he murmured incoherently and reached out absentmindedly, groaning and whimpering in pain.She had begun to murmur soft words to him, hoping to keep his mind from the pain and hoping the liquor helped to dull it.

___

...And so he mounted the downed man, his fist cracking across the cut throat's jaw as he then grabbed his throat, pinning his head to the cobbled stone. The young lass who had been pinned to the wall had already gone to the ivory haired lad who now laid upon the cobbled stones in the illumination of the lantern light. The cut throat was gargling, whimpering and crying out as the stench of blood filled the air.

Amyas had saw what had happened, had heard what was exchanged. Amadeus...Amadeus, why did that name sound so familiar? But what seemed odder was that they were specifically seeking this lad out, that the lad and most like the lass would have ended up dead this night and found on the morn by some idle passerby like Johan...Johan, these could have been the killers. If it were not for him showing up at that moment...Destiny.

"Who sent you?" Amyas snarled threatening, the man gargled out a cry, clutching at Amyas wrist. "P-Please, let me go!" He begged and Amyas growled "Wrong answer!" With that he lifted the man's hand and slammed it back down against the stone, the man cried out in pain, eyes tightening. He didn't care for this cut throat's well being, he didn't care for Johan's! "Now answer me!" He snarled and dropped his sword aside without a care, settling down onto one knee, straddling the man's chest and cocking back a fist, holding the cut throat by the neck who in turn clutched at Amyas wrist and sucked in breath greedily.

"Answer me."

"I don't know!" The man screamed but only earned Amyas raising his fist further and the man flinched, crying out. "I swear! I don't know! He had no name, he left me notes, thats all! Notes, I swear! He said he'd give me coin if I did this!" He whimpered, practically praying for Amyas to set aside his fist. Paid...Or atleast promised coin to kill Amadeus. He looked back down to the man, his eyes full of tears, near to sobbing at seeing his friend die...He deserved it. He had a chance in his life to become an honest merchant or tradesman, instead he became what he was now.

"And Johan?" "Johan?" The man asked, staring up wide eyed. "Johan, Captain of the King's Guard! His body was found littering just outside a pub!" "I know nothing of it!" "Liar!" Amyas roared and slammed his fist down once...Twice...Almost thrice but the lass he had saved had grabbed his arm. Amyas found tears threatening his eyes, the man below him had a bloody mess of a face, his nose no doubt broken as he gargled on blood. "He doesn't know..." She whispered to him. "He doesn't. Let him be." And Amyas released him, letting out a deep sigh, eyes shutting.

___

"It hurts" Amadeus complained as he settled down on his bed. Amyas had helped Elynor carry the lad back to his housing and had reluctantly released the cut throat when he thought he should have killed him but also knew it would give him information...Give him something, it was just right...Destiny. He had to trust it. They were in Amadeus' bedroom now he surmised as the lass who called herself Elynor had begun to fill an ewer and bring it close, gesturing Amyas to kindle a fire. Amadeus lay there still with more than enough incoherent mutterings.

Amyas settled a fire, kindling it to life to his satisfaction, holding out his hands to the warmth until Elynor called him close. "Hold him still." She told him and gestured him near Amadeus head, Amyas stood near and gently set his hands. "Who are you?" Amadeus murmured. "Amyas." He replied calmly. "Oh..." Amadeus fell silent. "I'm Ama...Amadeus." He added lastly, still somewhat high on his intoxication. "I know, lad. Now stay still for me, can you do that?" "I can." Amadeus murmured as soon Elynor came over with a fine thread and needle in hand. "Stay still." She said "I heard, I heard." Amadeus muttered and gestured with his hand as if he were swatting at her.

It had been some time later, if Amadeus had not drank so much liquor Amyas would have offered some brandy for spirits but as Elynor had said, he drank too much and it was true for the odor of it on his clothing was strong. Amadeus had fallen asleep soon after the stitches were in place and he rested upon his soft bedding comfortably. Elynor seemed wearied by things, settled upon her chair whilst holding a fresh wool blanket to her body, looking out over sleeping Amadeus.

Amyas looked over them both and felt quite awkward there...He cleared his throat. "I believe I go now..." Elynor looked to him and nodded slowly, starting to get up but Amyas gestured her to stay where she was. "I can walk myself out..." He paused "If there's anything you need, Elynor...Anything. If Amadeus or you feel threatened by anything..." "Then I will go to the city guard." She said and then looked to him, smiling tiredly. "I thank the gods that you had come when you had, Sir Amyas. I know you'd rather not dote on a lass and lad anyhow." She murmmured and her eyes fell back to Amadeus as Amyas clasped his cloak about his shoulders. "It is what I do, it is what I was born for." "Even so, we'll be okay I believe...I'll keep him indoors, not much he could do with whats on his head and all...Theres...Theres just so much now, y'know?" She said softly, curling her feet underneath herself, clutching the wool blanket to herself.

"So many have died and I...I fear that this is only the beginning. That things will not stop just here..." How many other deaths were there? Were there others that Norvelle excercised his power upon? "Lady Elandria is dead." She added lastly, as if she suddenly found it such a real thing. "The courtesan?" "Amadeus is her son." She added and Amyas was silent, so that was why Amadeus was so familiar. He had never bothered to remember these things...But Amadeus was somewhat well known, son of a courtesan, a bastard child. But it was the least of his matters, he did not need to worry over some lad, no, he had bigger things to worry of.

"Well, Elynor, I believe I will leave." She slowly nodded. "Sleep well, Sir Amyas. May the good god grant you strength."
He knelt there before the fire. He ached and felt more old than he had ever felt before. He set his sheathed blade before him, how many had he killed in the King's name? And how many more will be scored by this same blade? He settled back onto his haunches, hands on the front of his thighs, eyes shut as he let out a deep breath...How he longed...How he longed to be home.
"There is nothing left in your home, nothing at all." The voice filled his ears like a roar, filling the room as his eyes opened to look into the dancing flames that spread across the logs and kindling. Scent filled the room, a female's sultry voice, a man's husky tone, a coupling upon the dancing flames that chased the shadows and warmed his face. "Achorn Hill is now my home." He breathed out "Where is my family?" "Safe" The voice assured him, a touch stroking his peppering auburn hair, touching the nape of his neck, a chill down his spine.

How could he believe it? How...He had gone so far for this voice, this voice that had spoken to him and had told him to follow this road, to continue along with his destiny. His fate. "How could I know if you speak the truth to me, Voice?" "Voice," It chuckled "Then...I shall show you." His heart lifted at the words, filling him. "It is the least I could do for you, for all you have done for me thus far." And then it had happened.

His stoic demeanor left him...The fire swirled, if it could do so, he had never seen such a thing...Was it magick? Or just a work of his mind? Had things simply caught up to him in this old age or...Or was this true? Tears threatened his eyes, filling them as he stared into the flames that swirled twice and then thrice...He saw it.

There...There standing before an open shuttered window was Roselyn, moonlight upon her lovely skin, hugging herself where he would have once held her, warming her. She looked lovingly...Longingly before shutting her eyes and letting out a breath. She disappeared whilst the fire swirled and revealed another chamber that he had remembered from Achorn Hill. Lihan and Scarlett had treated them as if they were nobility, he was more than happy over that.

Then he saw his children. It was a lovely chamber, there were wooden figurines and toys settled all about the room along with two beds that seemed more than big for the children. Rosemary and Caroline were tucked in their beds, Artemis sitting upon the edge of the large bed, feet curled up underneath her, toes peeking out from the hem of her skirt as she murmured a story to them, Aubrey's own bed was near, but he seemed already deep into sleep, an arm draped across a doll he had purchased for the boy.

Oh, how he longed to hear the words that were uttered from Artemis' lips, the way Caroline looked up to her in admiration and then fear at the story she spoke. Caroline hid her face into her own pillow, eyes heavy as they shut. Oh...How he longed to touch his children, to feel their warmth...To hear them utter his name, to hold him...To watch them grow.

Oh, how he had failed them. He had always been away only spending time with them when he had been given leave and was soon called back time and time again. Tears filled his eyes, he shuddered with a shakey breath as he reached out, leaning closer, and upon the warm hearth stones as he leaned closer...The heat upon his face, his hand and then...He fell back and onto his haunches, hissing with his fingertips singed, his touch had disturbed the swirl as the fire had gone back to dancing, how long had he been watching? For the fire seemed weak and the glow of embers grew in the kindling as he pressed a fingertip into his mouth to settle the stinging burn of pain.

"Oh, Amyas. How you must miss all that you had." "When will I be able to see them?" "You had." The voice pointed out and Amyas shook his head. "No...No, I want to be with them. Please..." There was silence and then the air filled once more. "There is much more to do, Amyas, much more. And you have no choice but to do so. I have kept my end of this bargain...Would you?" Amyas let out a deep and shaky breath. He looked down onto his hands, palm up, palms callused and scarred. Had he any choice? For long he had been taken from his family and when he had finally leave to join them...To leave this life behind and settle, it had bene taken away from him as always things were.
"I will."

___

The birds flutter, mocking in their song filled chirps, the chirruping of insects and the waver of the canopy of trees. The branches reach longingly toward the sky, ever searching. The sway was their heavenly dance in their giant of a form, nearly blocking the light that dappled the forest floor.

The winding path a serpentine walk, moss growing north wood upon the thick dark bark of this forest, the call of the animals, the endless siren of a call.

The brush shook and in this twilight realm of endlessness only the wind could stir, no hare had rushed free of it with a predator at its tail, but a zephyr, gentle and yet strong, stirring this twilight realm.

His feet carry him ever closer and parting free of the giant trees that had once seemed an endless sea of reaching arms and greenery. His breath hitched and his feet planted, halting his advance, his eyes took in the sight before him. Magnificent it was in all its splendors. Spires reached as far as the giants had, towers filed across the sloping clearing, onion domes and magnificently white-washed stone was its face. No banner flew, and it would have seemed a dead place if it were not for the thrum of life that left it, a thrum of a musically regal air filling the sky, eminating from the endless palace that dominated this foreign land.

The stars overheard, unknown constellations nearly as bright as the sun itself, a white moon blessing this land in its heavenly light. He continued onward, approaching its tall protective white walls, the ramparts glittering in the star light. Wonderful it was, so beautiful did it stand there amongst nature itself. Then he halted once more in his tracks, double oaken doors, as tall as the trees itself and he didn't doubt that it was made of the giants that stood vigil, to say the least...It was intimidating to stand before the tall doors, head lolled back to see the tops. The palace dwarfed Haven's own.

"Come in," The voice reverberated off the walls, emanating from the white stone itself whilst he took a step back, fearing what it was. "We wait...Await you, at your welcome...Your banquet, Prince Amadeus." The words warmed him in this symphonic dream land, the doors had begun to part inward, revealing the blinding light within. His eyes widen, his ivory hair mussed and tousled by the strong wind that left it. The song was louder, filling his being as he took his first step closer, ever closer. The doors parted before him and there, with his eyes wide, his mouth open, hanging ajar with such a beatific smile gracing his face...Thousands upon thousands awaited him and there, standing at the end of it the man stood, promising all to him. All that he could lay his eyes upon could be his.

"Welcome."

Forlorn Throne: Chapter III

2008-02-22T18:33:00.000-08:00

Disclaimer: Forlorn Throne and all its content belong to Verity.

Dedicated to Roxana

Forlorn Throne

Chapter III
Changes

If you shall see him, turn your eyes away. If he shall call you, make sure to stay away. His voice of a siren, his touch that of seductive warmth, honey was his words. “What do you wish for, power, love, pleasure possibly? This shall all be yours, at your beck.” His voice a thousand whispers, tugging fingers that touched the flesh, breathe so warmly that it left the flesh aflame. “What is it do you wish? Never ending life?”

If you shall see him, turn your eyes away. If he shall call you, make sure to stay away. He is a siren, his voice resounding in the night. He is all and he is naught, he is true and yet false. Dreams follow at his heels, in truth he has the power to make all that you wish true. He will answer you, if you shall pray long enough, he shall even visit you in the flesh, or simply in your dreams more intimately with you. But know that if you shall accept his offer of well wishes, that you will offering your never ending servitude to his cause and being.

Writing on ‘Malevolence’ Author Unknown

He arrived upon early morn in Haven, at the gates he was allowed in by an old familiar guard he had known for some time, the set of his jaw was grim and he bowed his head in consent gravelly, well knowing that Amyas must have been here for their king. The once enthusiastic attitude of Haven was now somber in a way, dark colors hung from tavern signs, merchants did not shout their wares as they once would have, children were kept inside and dogs that would have chased them lurked in the alley ways avoiding the trampling feet of all that wandered.

Many had come to pay their honor to King Uriel, a number of lords had crossed land and sea to pay homage to their late King and not just that, but many peasants have as well, for Uriel had treated all as his treasure, there would never be a man such as him, and they were right. How could such ill luck befall their beloved King when they most needed him? They had just broken free of Lord Geoffrey’s terror and still sparse amounts of his men still wandered the land, raising battle skirmishes along their borders and terrorizing merchant caravans. In truth, the war was still not over even if Lihan did manage to thwart Geoffrey’s attempt at settling a foothold on Achorn Hill.

Not only that. But those who had followed Geoffrey into the war willingly and posed themselves against the King were ostracized from the allegiance of those of the King and court. This left the land in an unsteady balance as the exiled lords searched for a semblance of loyalty for the throne. Once there would have been peace in this land, and it was such, somewhat, but after the death of King Uriel that was all thrown to the wind. Now the land mourned the loss of this great King for they knew not only that they would never have such a man as he but that there would be no peace in the land, unless his son, Norvelle, now Prince and King-in-Waiting can lift them from where they are now.

Those who knew Norvelle from afar doubted that he would. He was always a regal lad, an eye for the fine things and pleasures not only that but he was a cruel young man – Some even said that his mother was a viper because of it and in truth, she was, somewhat. She was a cruel woman, oft drinking far too much than she should and shaming herself in constant scandals and there were a number of rumors that she had partaken in a number of trysts with men. Now, such rumors would have taken question to Norvelle’s bloodlines, in truth they did and he held no resemblance to the late King Uriel but many had said he simply held the looks of his mother more than that of his father and that was somewhat true. He had the golden tresses of his mother, curled and tumbling down to his shoulders, and the eyes of a clear lake in the midst of dawn, not only that but he held the sun kissed flesh of his mother that some would say was that of his father as well. But despite that, many had doubted that Norvelle could live to his father’s expectations on the throne and much less, rule the land in a steady hand.

These were the thoughts that burdened him when he raised his head to find that his horse had been leading the way, it was a slow pace and that was more due to the overabundance of people than anything. So he swung down from the saddle and took the reins in hand and had begun to walk his horse at a leisure pace through the crowd. Many had cropped their hair low for the mourning, leaving only a mess of tousled hair on their heads, others settled to wear somber colors on their person. Guards patrolled the lanes of the serpentine cobble stoned streets, ushering them along, it was then that Amyas realized he did not know his true destination. He was to arrive at Haven, but what then? He was not told what else he must do but simply head to Haven and that will lead him onto his destiny.

So he continued, blindly mostly, his horse snorting behind him as the stallion swayed its great head to and fro to look over its surroundings, Amyas continued onwards thoughtful and sorted through his thoughts, his eyes taking in all the sights, much had changed in Haven…Too much had, he could hardly remember the last time he had truly laid his weary head in the guard barracks of Haven, the last time he shared a hearty meal and smiled, laughed even. It had been many years and too many days too count, war, it was too much and had spread along their land like wildfire. By the gods, he only wished to rest and lay his weary head in the hands of his woman.

___

His home had changed, far more than he had wished it to. He remembered days when he would be carried in a litter like a pup, feeding from his mother’s fingertips whilst she scratched his stomach, sending him squirming in the piles and piles of rich fabrics as the world around them passed by with greetings and splendid murmurs. That was quite a pleasant life, wasn’t it? Oh, he enjoyed it much and from then on things had always gone well, his mother was well respected, quite lovely indeed as well and so was no normal lass, no, not at all, she was something completely different.

He had learned of what his mother was when he was of age and did not fault her for what she had done, for when she had him she had halted her ways and settled her life with what coin she had saved, or so she said, he was always curious as to what those strange messengers came with, she had always shooed him from the room like some unruly cub. Elandria, his mother, was a courtesan, no, not in anyway was she some low class brothel lass, she was for the noble born and not just for pleasures of the flesh albeit she did partake in such. She knew to read literature and recite poems and held the tongue of a story teller, she had the hand of a writer and the feet of a cat, lithe and graceful she was in her days, flesh of the white moon and hair as ivory as tusks.

She was magnificent and splendid in her days, or so she told him constantly, that lords would challenge themselves just to have her upon their arm when they entered a ball and nothing else. But never did she speak of him as to who was his father, he decided it must have been some noble lad who had possibly paid enough coin or simply she had liked him but when she had grown round of belly he had wished nothing to do with her and did not wish to be abdicated from his power for siring a bastard on a courtesan. Or possibly she simply never told him? Always…Always she said, you would find out, you find out when you are old enough. Twenty-six summers, and he is not old enough? He scoffed at that thought.

Everything was changing much too rapidly for his tastes, no longer did anyone smile at him for a look of dismay and sorrow filled those of Haven, the King had gone to the other lands, to the skies above to share in the feast of the old kings, or so he was taught. His once splendid ivory hair was cropped down as his mother had instructed him to do so, parts of it came down to hair length and others well...It was tousled and unruly and usually his mother would have scolded him and rebuked him for such but she said nothing, she seemed stricken and ill as of late and it made him fear the worse. She had told him once that she met the King and that she had gone to the ball with him once or twice, or a number of times, she could not remember for her mind was growing much too old for her weary body that once could trot with the best of them on the marble grounds mind you!

But she told him such splendid stories of her life, she had met so many of the noble born and had been graced with so many gifts that she had more than enough to share over a lifetime thrice over. But he wondered, as he sat here above the main square of Haven, on the balcony of the Inn, peering over the heads, a mug of wine in his hand, mulled and brooding as the dark mood of all around, his mind filled with sudden fearful thoughts of what might happen to his life for things changed much too rapidly for his tastes. He suddenly how would his life end if his mother had passed due to her ailing grief – He knocked on the wood of the balcony to ward off any ill luck at this thought. But nonetheless he wondered, truthfully he had never worked for coin for his mother, somehow, had more than plenty about the household and he was suspicious of that coin for he did not think it possible for a young lass to such so much as to last a lifetime, that was fairy tale talk!

So he would have to work with his hands, not as if that was a nightmare or anything and he was sure that someone would give him a task or two, for many had loved him and – “Oh, Amadeus. You look so dark.” Elynor spoke as she wandered out onto the balcony to peer over the wooden railing to the many heads down below; it looked like a river of hair, flesh and clothes along with an unhealthy amount of gossip. He raised his eyes to Elynor. She was the serving lass of The Sylph, it was a cheap Inn and for that, many had visited it, albeit it was in a rather more poor section of Haven. She lovely and possibly the reason he had often visited, freckles danced along her nose, her smile was stunningly white. She was small and slender, her hair was braided and pulled back behind her head where it twined and fell to her back, and she wrinkled her nose at him as he eyed her and still smiled till it had begun to fade away. “What? Is there something on my face?”

He shook his head at her, smiling as he did some and set down his mug on the balcony railing before turning to her fully, one hand on the railing as he leaned against it. She was dressed in that commonly seen rough spun shift of brown, wearing doe skinned slippers and her skirts swirling about her legs, she was reaching up to touch her face and hair before he smiled and she dropped it away. “Shouldn’t you be working?” “Not quite yet, I have a bit of a break for a moment and I decided to see what was troubling my Ama today.”

She had smiled at those words and turned to raise her elbows on the railing and lean her back against it, looking up at him but no words were exchanged. “So…Aren’t you going to tell me?” “Tell you what?” “Ah, don’t play such foolish things with me” She scolded him and he smiled, the fading sunlight danced lovingly on her hair, making it seem red and than the chestnut brown it actually was. “I’ve just been wondering” “Not over your mother again” “Just that” She let out a sigh and turned when he did, to look over the railing. “Things will be okay Ama, you know that Helm will give you a task here if you wished it, he loves you well enough to not let you go starving.” “I know”

“And even then I will berate him till he does take you in!” Like always, she sometimes would continue talking without listening to a word he said, he found that he never minded, it actually made him smile to hear her threaten someone that she would never raise a hand to. “I know she had been growing old and weary as of late and the King’s death has seemed to sent her in a dark stricken mood, I fear the worse” “Many do, our future is constantly an uncertain thing Ama, now, come now, don’t look so down! Smile for me!” She commanded and he did and she laughed “Oh that looks so false it needs to come truly from the heart, like this, see? Splendid.” She smiled genuinely to him and they both laughed.

“Ah well, you’re right.” “Aren’t I always?” She pointed out and he turned to her just then when she embraced him roughly “Ah Ama, things will be alright, be sure to know I’ll always be here for you and I’d let nothing horrid happen.” With that she leaned up upon her tip toes and pressed a kiss upon his cheek when Helm called out “Elynor!” “Break is over” She murmured and stepped away hurriedly before rushing off “Ely” “But she was gone and he could not say another word. He stood there quietly, her scent lingering in the air and he sighed, turning to his mug and finishing off what was left before deciding it was finally time to return home, for the moon was beginning to rise already, and the land darkening.

___

He had been founded by some lad he gave him a scroll, rolled and sealed and then had disappeared into the folk all around, he had spent some time trying to find the lad with no success and decided to finally unseal the small rolled parchment and he did. “The Sylph” was all that read and he stuffed it away into one of his saddle bags, he knew well that there was an Inn named the Sylph and that will mean where this message had intended him to travel to, but first to relieve himself of the burden of his horse, it wasn’t hard to find a stable, it was just trouble finding one where his horse could be settled into an empty stall, after coming to a third one his horse had been taken in and promised that he would be cared for, sword belt at the ready and his pouch of coins stuffed away to keeping from being pick pocketed, he was off. It was late into the day when he had arrived at the sylph, it was a large place, and round, everything was.

Down to the seats and tables, it was three stories tall, rather large for an Inn in such a run down place of Haven but it had received more business than most others for they sold ale cheap and their rooms near the same, for a few extra coins a bath would be included alongside such, as he was entering he had run into a young lad who seemed much in a hurry and a dark cloud hung over him, no doubt something troubled him and something in his lavender eyes reminded Amyas all too much of someone he must have known but it had been years the cropped hair had left his mind at a tangle, it was too late to ask anyway now for the lad was already gone, inside he was greeted by a young lass with lovely chestnut hair, much younger than he himself and was led to one of the tables in the corner where soon he was offered a mug of ale and he accepted gratefully as she went off at the Inn Keep’s call.

So he sat and waited, his head a dull throb from the ache he had as he drank that watered down ale and then raised his eyes to look over all who were there. There were a few he spared him a glance and no doubt recognized him for being in the King’s guard for some time, but that did not matter enough for any to pay him a call, he was thankful for that in a way. He wondered who would come to him, who speak with him and then he sat in front of him, Johan. The man leaned forwards, his face lined heavily with worry and quite the weary look upon him as he murmured quietly, pitched low for Amyas’ ears only. “I apologize for such a way to bring you here, when I had gotten word you were in Haven I had a message sent to you in haste and somewhere set where no man would come in and listen in on us”

Amyas listened quietly and said nothing, eyes downcast onto his ale, so, there was something going on in Haven and he grimaced at the thought that he had been being watched ever since he came in under the gates. “And what calls for such secrecy?” Amyas asked and Johan was going to speak but stopped when a lad set down a mug for him and went off, then he spoke. “Come with me, when I leave I will wait out back by the well, come in a few moments time so it seems we are not together.” With that Johan left a copper coin and stood from his seat and left and Amyas finished off his ale and in hopes of dulling that ache and to not waste such a wonderful mug of watered down ale, he drank off Johan’s, switching the mugs so it looked as if were still on his first. When that was done, he left, leaving a copper in his stead.

He met him out back as he said he would, Johan was in the shadows and when Amyas stepped out into the moonlight and leaned against the well that no longer was in use he turned his gaze to Johan, who looked out into the dark alley that Amyas walked through just a moment ago. “No one followed you?” “No one” “Good.” Johan turned back to Amyas and stepped close.

“The King has died”

“So I’ve heard”

“And you’re here to pay him respects”

“Something like that” Amyas could only smile wryly upon the matter.

“Well, whatever had sent you the inkling to return to Haven, thanks be to the gods for you could not have come at a better time.” “And why is that?” “I am not sure that you know but Norvelle has relieved all of his father’s guard” “Norvelle? Only Uriel would be able to do such a thing. He relieved me I’ll have you know.” “And so he did, but I believe it was Norvelle who moved his father’s ailing hand.” Amyas grimaced at those words “Not only that, but we believe it is Norvelle behind Uriel’s sudden illness and untimely death” “Now Johan, it is treason to speak in such a way” “And what will you do about it? Drag me to his guard and have Norvelle flay me and you for listening to such treason?” Johan snapped forcing Amyas to fall into silence.

“What proof do you have?” “None…As of yet, but we are working upon it, I believe the King was poisoned by the command of Norvelle’s.” “Let it be Johan, you have no evidence of such and you will only receive lashes for this, Uriel treated us well, I doubt Norvelle would have wanted such old warriors anyway as his personal guard. Things are changing old friend and we must go with it.” Johan let out a frustrated sigh “And would Norvelle poison his father Johan? He is the only one with a claim over the Throne after his father, is he so impatient?” “Uriel was as healthy as an ox, Amyas! He would have lived well beyond a century if Norvelle waited.” It was true, Uriel had never been known to take to any illness, Amyas looked away uncertain and sighed, shifting to sit on the stone of the round well. “But that’s not what bothers me Amyas…” “Hm? What is it?” He raised one brow and turned his gaze to Johan who took a deep breath and spoke.

___

Amadeus had spotted a familiar man on the way into the Inn as he left, he knew him by sight, he was apart of the King’s previous guard and news had sprouted that Prince, or soon to be King, Norvelle relieved all of the guards of their positions, he didn’t doubt that this man would probably drain away all of his final payment drowning in sorrow at a loss of what to do with the rest of their lives for there was nothing left for them but to grow old and wither away, a lamentable truth. But despite that, the man looked at him as if he had saw him before, it gave him an odd shiver down his spine like a cold hand but he paid no mind and hurried off.

It was dark, the moon had begun to pour along the clear streets and bathe it in its silver twilight. Just to think, only moments ago it had been so busy and packed, with folk hurrying to their beds as he did the same now, huddled underneath his cloak. And so he went, his feet carrying him ever so towards his home, he passed a number of folk, two young lovers hurrying to find their bed sheets and share in their love, a guard on patrol with a swinging lantern in hand. An old man sitting upon the tail of a cart while a younger pushed it along, the wheels upon the cobbled stones were an odd sort of music.

Soon enough he had returned home, it was a larger place than was needed, especially since his mother had long ago relieved her servants except for Elyse, a wonderful lady who had oft helped in the care of his childhood and such things, he had reason to believe Elyse had been alongside his mother for much longer than she pretended to be, but no matter. She unlatched the door and walked inside, shutting it and latching it securely and setting down the bar, there was a lantern burning brightly, no doubt left for him, he took it down from its hook and wandered down the hall until he came across the main lobby.

Two stories it was and a splendid place with a number of art works decorating the walls, the most splendid might have been the portrait that over looked the staircase in the main lobby, it was a landscape of some far off land that would have settled for a fairy tale no doubt. He wandered up the steps without another look back to the portrait, soon he came to her chambers, the master bedroom, with a balcony that looked out to the river that cut underneath the walls of Haven and separated this part of the city from the rest, it was a beauty of a view. Inside his mother sat on her beloved chair clutching some piece of fabric in her hands and curled up, the fire dancing along her flesh that was once as smooth and flawless as a pearl, her hair had grayed, he had once seen a portrait of her, she was lovely in her days.

He pried the fabric free from her hands after setting down the lantern and stroked her cheek softly before settling his arms underneath her carefully and sure not to wake her and carried her to her bed to settle onto the covers, she clung to him and whimpered, murmuring something “Uri, oh Uri” She murmured. Possibly it was a past lover; he didn’t question her but pried free from her clutching hands and tucked the covers about her. “Good night, mother.” He murmured and kissed her brow.

He watched her stir in her bed, murmuring to those long ago days that had once been hers as a lovely young lass, stolen away from her when she had ground round with him in her belly, he wondered if she had ever faulted him for ruining her splendid life…No, she always told him she had never regretted it, that she loved him. He moved from her to fetch the fabric he pried from her hands, another piece of work, she had begun this knitting phase years hence, it had busied her but now her hands ached her too much to truly knit for long, he never understood why she bothered anymore, but never bothered to ask for fear it might insult her.

He set it down on the armrest of her chair and went to make sure the shutters were latched, they weren’t, they were wide open to the night chill air, and he shut them and pulled in the drapes to tie them. He gave one last look over the room, so this was the remnants of his mother’s life, loneliness, he grimaced, and pain. He wished he could ease things for her but he could only do much to make her comfortable. He lifted up the lantern and grudgingly left the room, shutting the door quietly before heading down the hall.

He had come across his bed chambers and pushed inside before setting the door back against the door jamb and latching it securely. He set down the lantern and went to the hearth whilst stripping his cloak free of his body, tossing it to the chair that faced the hearth stones. He kindled the fire till he was content with the life it danced with and placed another log to join the union of the flames, returning to the lantern, he smothered the flame. This was his chambers, pleasant and simple with a number of things that might have mad someone think him eccentric in a way.

Mostly it was just keep sakes and mementos from a time of his young years, little carved figurines of warriors and beasts, a coverlet that had been his favorite when he was a child and little gifts given by his mother. There were small boxes of jewelry, securely locked, vials of exotic scents filed along one dresser and beside that stood an ornate full body mirror. A shelf, clinging and bolted to the wall securely, was bustling with odd things. Tea cups and a pot, white as pearl and done all over with blue with prancing wolves, hunting and in play as cub and adult beasts. Beside that was an arrangement of brandy and glasses. In one corner was a display of swords within their oiled scabbards laying across the stand, one above the other. All in all, there was enough to keep any boy busy.

He toed out of his boots with a groan and crawled into bed, suddenly his bones ached and felt chilled, his spine tingled and the hair on the back of his neck stood on end as he crawled under the covers, forgetting to shut the shutters, Elyse liked to leave them open to air out the chambers but suddenly he was too weary to gather himself and lurch to his feet. The shutters seemed too far, the shadows danced when the flames did, the velvet drapes swirled like the dust clouds in the wake of a steadfast stallion. He pulled the covers tight about him and let his head fall to the pillow. Sleep took him.

___

He was walking, above his heart there it stood, the item bestowed upon him by Johan. “Read it and you will see what ails my heart, Amyas.” A book it was, Uriel’s personally written journal, leather bound and aging, how Johan had gotten his hands upon it, he did not know. Did Uriel bestow it upon the captain of his guard? Or did Johan pilfer it from his chambers when he had gone sniffing after Norvelle’s tracks? Nonetheless, Johan had deemed it dangerous to speak of whatever was written in the leather bound journal, which he must see with his own eyes and in the safety of a securely locked chamber.

He did not return to the Sylph, no, he would have but Johan warned him that it would look an odd thing if he had and that he was better off seeking another for the night and he had. It was a small place that was quite shabby and somewhat empty, the owner was just shutting up the place when he came and knocked upon the door, peering in through the shutters he could see the man and his wife wiping down tables and setting out fresh sand along the wooden floor boards. They allowed him in after a few coaxing words and begging excuse that the other Inns were packed to the brim, with a few coins of payment was allowed a room on the third landing and with another word, a bottle of brandy and a glass.

He shut the door, latched it and made sure it was secure. He went to the shutters and latched that, pulling in the rough spun drapes and tying them. He searched the room thoroughly before lighting a fire in the small hearth. It was a simple room, as simple as the shabby Inn was. He undid his sword belt from his waist and set it on top of the table set in the middle of the room along the bottle of brandy and glass. A feather bed was set in the corner and in the other a chamber pot. He paced about the room as he freed the leather bound book from where he had hidden it and set it down on the table beside his sword and the bottle of brandy that will give him the spirits and will to read through the thick journal on this night. There, it lay there before him now, shut and settled. It looked as age as his ailing King the last he had laid his eyes upon him, he stood there, hands on his hips as he peered down at it. All he had to do now was to read it.

It took him longer than he would have thought to simply build the will to lift the book once more, he knew he would delve into a world that was not his, into the thoughts of the King he served oh so loyally in those many years, a man who he would have gladly given his life for. He moved over towards the hearth and set it down upon the hearth stones before returning to the table and fetching the bottle and glass and setting it down as well beside the room. Moving to the bed he fetched a sheet to drape about his shoulders from the chill of the room. He sat down upon the hearth stones cross legged and uncorked the bottle, pouring the spirits into that glass and lifting it to take down the jot with a sigh, holding the glass to his forehead along his hand and shutting his eyes, letting the warmth of it raise his spirits before he refilled it and finally undid the leather bound book, flipping back the cover carefully to reveal the small lettering of his King that nearly strained his aging eyes. He pulled the book into his lap, the firelight his only aide, his fingertip guiding along the words as his eyes followed.

It carried on well into the night, his eyes had grown weary and ached with the reading, a number of times he had shifted his legs for his foot had fallen asleep, his back ached and he rose to step about before returning with a jot of brandy and turning another page. It was odd to delve into his former King’s mind, to know such little things about him, in and out. All those secret thoughts he held in which he only poured out into volume after volume of leather bound journals. This volume was of his last entries of the final dwindling years of his rule. He had written mostly of squabbling from other lands, worries over Lords who seemed to wish to claim war against him and his land, worries of what he must do and how he must execute them in such a manner in which his people would not suffer.

He had written of his hunts out in the wild his hounds, he had written of his son and his loyal honor guard. He had written of simply things that happened throughout his life, such small things, such as how splendid his hawk had looked when it had taken flight from his wrist after chirruping to it affectionately, or how well the cook had prepared his favored dish and then…He came across it. He had been weary, near ready to doze and simply drop into his bed, the fire in the hearth had grown to nothing but mere glowing embers now, the glass of brandy was near empty, he realized he had not been breathing when he let his breath out and shifted the book so he could manage to place in another log of wood and blow the embers to a lively burn and to take to the new addition of stock in the hearth before pouring the remnants of the brandy and pulling the leather bound journal back into his lap.

This was what worried Johan so much, this was what had been expected for him to read and to understand the view that Johan had taken upon the matter of their King’s untimely death. King Uriel had disclaimed his son as the true heir of Haven, claiming that Norvelle was unfit to rule the land, was this so? Had Norvelle read this? He read onwards, Uriel had never considered Norvelle to be placed into his will but…What? What was this? Amyas furrowed his brow in confusion. “I have written my rightful heir to claim the throne when I am gone from this world and join the land of Kings. I will enclose such details and entrust this with my guard when I am to pass, to have my rightful son take claim upon the throne and rule in my stead. I only wished I could have truly held him as my own.”

He let out a breath and raised his eyes to the hearth fire, dancing where it lay upon the logs. His rightful son…? Was there something he had missed in the journal beforehand? No, not at all, there had to be more volumes, there had to more. But he had clearly stated he would speak to the guard of such…But Johan told him that they were all relieved by Norvelle. Did Norvelle know of this? Did he take the necessary precautions to avoid being disclaimed from his claim on the throne? Was Norvelle true blood of the King, or was he the offspring of some minor lord the King’s unfaithful wife had lured into bed with?
For a moment fear struck him and his heart lurched in his chest with dismay.

If this was so, if Norvelle was not blood of his former King, if his claim upon the throne was an illegitimate one…That the rightful heir lay somewhere in the realm, how would they know? He feared that the King had died with such secrets due to Norvelle’s hand, it was clear and made clear sense in his eyes – Norvelle’s mother had always been a woman hungry for power and he didn’t doubt her son was much the same. Even so…He needed the other volumes of his King’s journals; he didn’t doubt that somewhere there were hints of his true son’s birth and where he might lay. But what if it was too late? If Norvelle had read this, he didn’t doubt the man would have put the other volumes to the torch along with the rightful will. Or would he have kept it? He only hoped.

He was suddenly weary and exhausted, he let out a deep breath, there were only a few more journal entries after the last he had read, he would finish that on the morrow, he shut the book securely and stood up after downing the final jot of brandy he had poured. Glass and bottle in hand he stood and set them on the table and stuffed the book underneath the featherbed to keep out of sight, such an item she never be kept in the open. He crawled under the covers, sprawling out comfortably for the first time in some while, his eyes shut and he let out a sigh.

There was much ahead of him and somehow he knew the end was no where in sight.

Forlorn Throne: Chapter II

2008-02-22T18:25:00.000-08:00

Disclaimer: All contents of Forlorn Throne belong to Verity.

Forlorn Throne

Chapter II
Travel

…And so he led his men, sword in hand whilst his war horse, Snow, trampled the enemy underfoot. He roared his defiance against those who placed his land under siege. Threefold the number of the Hill defenders, our Lord did not falter. With the love of his family, a shield and purpose, he fended off the force of the Vale. Several days and nights of battle it was. Lady Teimlia had led the folk of the Hill to Achorn Hill’s long old secret, Patience, the ship that William flew.

I begin to wonder at what will happen. Prophecy rules them, their love was inevitable and their communion just so. There were times I feared the death of both Lihan and Scarlett but yet they have prevailed time and time again. I believe they are beginning to wonder that I know much more than what I have told them, I was subtle in all my ways to lead them on their correct path yet I fear they will approach me on who I truly am. I fear it is inevitable that they will find out who I am and would finally understand how deeply their bond goes. I begin to wonder if their children will suffer a similar fate but I can only see so far, I feel as I’m going as dim as a faltering lantern, I fear my time is close.

- Journal Excerpt of Scribe Garland, The Gray Priest

It had seemed an eternity - a long time of travel since they had left the cottage behind and Amyas knew there was no hint of stopping until they reached Haven. In truth he did not mind it, but part of him longed to stay in the comforts of his own domain. He was left with watching the messenger ahead of him leading the way at a leisurely pace till the man had deemed it best for a gallop. There were no other words exchanged, silence. What Johan had ready for him, he knew it was something much larger than anything before. Amyas knew that there was more to this calling than just the King’s death.

The sun was beginning to fall, slowly making it’s descent to nestle lovingly into the far off horizon and allow its sister to rise to the skies. It was then when he glanced over his shoulder to the path they had left behind them, he wondered if he should have begged for more time to help with the packing, or even paid coin to the man to guard them on the way to Achorn Hill. He bit down, clenching his jaw in his slow mind at what he should have done and rebuked himself, it was already too late; there was no turning back from where they were. The messenger led them off the beaten path into the encroaching forest.

He wondered and worried uselessly, praying silently into the night to keep his family warm and protected and hoping that they had packed in haste and would have left shortly after them or even waited till the early morn and he wondered at how the Lord and Lady of the Hill would take them in. Would they be so surprised that he accepted such an offer? He didn’t doubt that they would be warm to his family, that and his children would not have some wonderful playmates to grow around and have a future as a page to the nobility of the Hill. And not just that, Roselyn would now have a friend, he didn’t doubt that Scarlett would befriend her…Not that Roselyn didn’t have many friends in the market, but in truth, since he had been gone and about lately he had never known much of Roselyn’s true personal life since he had last been with them. Yet she still loved him, he felt like one lucky fool, someone who truly didn’t deserve her. Secretly he promised to make it up to her and his family when he returned from whatever lengthy task Johan had in store for him.

And so he thought as he did, eyes rising to the sky as the dying light of the sun was fading, the remaining remnants of its life dwindled between leaves to dapple the forest floor. Birds flew over head, and bugs flitted by his ear and flesh as she slapped them away absentmindedly. Still there was no sign of rest as they had broken free of the forest, the moon growing high in the sky and lighting the open field ahead of them, the messenger led Amyas in a wild gallop then and there across it, the moon lighting their way whilst they made haste. He had not known how long they had been riding, judging by the moon they had been for quilt some time, his stomach grumbled with the neglect of food and he searched one of the saddle packs to find some of the bread that Roselyn had baked and offered some a handful to the other, who accepted it gratefully when they had found cover under the trees, mounts put to a leisure canter to rest them.

He had begun to doze in his saddle when the sound of a nearby stream floated to his ears, when they had approached it the man had deemed it time to dismount and water their horses before continuing, which they did. The stallions were more than grateful to have their full of water and Amyas himself wiped his face and hands with the stuff to wake himself before continuing on the way. What had mostly made the travel somewhat irritating was the lack of conversation or rather, the silence between the two. Albeit there was nothing truly to share with the other man, he was sure that the messenger that now led him knew nothing about the true task, just that it was urgent.

Then it happened, the other turned his head, they were walking alongside the stream, leading their horses for quite some time, their steps had halted and Amyas had nearly bumped into the other. “This is where I leave you” The messenger mounted, leaving Amyas in a dazed confusion at what he was just told. “What?” Amyas asked and ask the messenger led his horse aside he gave the confused man his final words: “I’m sorry” And he was gone.

He didn’t quite understand what had just happened, he had just been left here, in the middle of no where, after hours of travel and deprived of sleep, he was truly exhausted, part of him longed to run blindly into the brush and after the messenger and ask him of what had happened and yet he knew it was too late. He looked back at his weary horse who nudged at his shoulder, sharing his master’s exhaustion. Amyas’ eyes drifted to the moon high above them, he suddenly felt as if they had traveled days other than hours. Hunching his shoulders he knew there was no reason to dwell on things and continued onwards. The night seemed to grow colder, the whistle of the wind drifting through the trees was that of an unsettling calm and more than once he had thought he had heard the step of a man behind him or in the brush just beyond the length of his sight. What could he do? Nothing truly, sounds of the forest, he told himself, no use in dwelling upon it or worrying himself.

The hair upon the back of his neck rose, cold trickled down his spine and his jaw clenched, the brush of breath went down his neck, the sound of a woman’s throaty chuckle melting beside his ear, quivering underneath that awkward sensation, he took a deep indrawn breath of the suddenly cold night, his breath a mist, eyes shut as his feet came to a halt.

The stallion nudged him.

He broke from his reverie suddenly, eyes going wide as he glanced around frantically, wishing to capture that foreign scent once more before glimpsing back over his shoulder to the wary horse. Tired, that was all, he was exhausted and tired, and rest would do him good. The stream seemed to have last a life time, trickling down the forest floor, the brush and trees seemed as if he had passed them once before. He suddenly wondered how long he had been walking, leading his weary horse; the moon was still high in the sky. Maybe he was dreaming, maybe just now he was resting in a ditch and this was all a nightmare. But it wasn’t.

He suddenly ached to return home and nestle beside his wife, to feel her mouth upon his own and her touch on his flesh. He wondered if he would ever see the look upon her face after a night of pleasure, the look of his children whilst they ran and played amongst the field, the unity of that love. He seemed to age when those thoughts welled within him.
“You’ve traveled far enough”

He halted, he gritted his teeth and in that quick moment his hand had gone for his belt knife. “Calm down Amyas, there is no need for such hasty actions” He already had his knife out, his wary horse sidled away from him when his hand had released from the reins. His head turned this way and that but Amyas could not find the source of the voice. “Who are you?!” He growled out, his exhaustion was suddenly a thing of the past. With his bared knife in one hand he dropped into a low crouch, ready to fend off any attackers.

“Come how and show yourself!” He demanded of the sudden silence and the responsive voice seemed to flutter from behind him, he spun to meet it. “Only if you put away that little knife of yours” A woman’s voice it was, throaty and husky. He realized he was growling, the knife tight in his hand. “Then I will not show myself” Part of him could suddenly care less, he would not set down his knife. “But I do not need to show myself to explain why you have been taken here” His heart lurched in his chest, he suddenly wondered if Johan truly did command the messenger to retrieve him.

Her voice seemed to emanate from all around him, in the trees, the stream and even deep into the heart of the forest that surrounded him, constantly he moved and turned to catch a glimpse of who it was and mostly ready himself for any headlong clash. “Your King has died” She murmured, and it was near his ear, he turned quickly, slashing as he went. “Damn you!” He cursed out into the night, wherever his horse had gone, he was sure the stallion was in a safer place by now. “But it is not Johan who has called for you” She assured him, dismay rode on his shoulders now, he masked it. “Your family are on their way to the Hill” That little bit of news oddly sent him off balance, his heart lurched at the thought of his family being watched and then lifted at the knowledge of knowing they were traveling into safe arms. “But I tell you, listen to me and do as I say and I will assure your family will travel under safe wings” He growled, roaring his defiance “I’ll kill you before you harm a hair on their heads!” “And I will not – As long as you listen to me” She assured him coolly.

He was breathing heavy, anger washed over him with the thought that the foreign voice may injure his family, and there was only one way to assure that they weren’t harmed, to listen, but even then he was silent as ever and she took such silence as his assent. “Travel forth to Haven, Amyas. There fate will ensue, you will know what to do, the path will be clear. That is all I ask of you. If you fail to travel to Haven, if you return to seek your family, you will suffer greater consequences than you would have imagined. ” He listened, his anger still welled within him, unclenching and clenching the hilt of his belt knife, the voice had become odd, from once being that of a woman’s to that of a man’s, a minstrel’s silky voice, that of clarity and dripping honey, that of many. “Go now Amyas, fly to Haven in your swiftest haste, for there your destiny lies! I shall be watching you” The earth seemed to shake, his flesh quivered and his body shuddered, his old bones ached, his eyes burned and welled with tears, his knuckles white whilst his head flew back, darkness.

His eyes fluttered open, the sun was a glare and heated his back, he groaned. He seemed to ache all over, and it seemed his body had near forgotten how to work his limbs for he had laid there for too long attempting to remember how he could clench his hand into a fist. He was lying upon his stomach, somehow he had fallen, he assumed he fell from the saddle after dozing off, or had tripped over a rock in the darkness whilst leading his horse. A nagging brush was against his shoulder but it took him a moment to find the strength to glance back over his shoulder to see his worried horse nagging at him, biting at his clothing to tug him awake. He raised one hand to brush away the persistent horse’s muzzle.

He tasted blood at the back of his throat, and his nose stuffed with it, his head ached and rolled. He lifted his head to glance around him, he laid near the stream, in truth his head only mere inches from it, if he were any closer he would have dropped into it and drowned. He spotted his knife, teetering on the edge of falling into the flowing stream. He crawled closer and laid his hand over it, keeping it safe as he dragged it closer, it was then he caught a look at himself.

Haggard, somewhat, his auburn hair was matted to his head with blood from where, he believed, his head struck a stone, a thin line of dried and crusted blood trailed from his nose and down his mouth and chin, below his eye was just a slight scrape, his turquoise eyes seemed near dim from the lack of rest and pain that echoed throughout his body. He shut his eyes to groan and run a hand through his hair to find where that throbbing pain emanated from, and he did, it was soft and sore, and ached twofold whenever he pressed his fingertips to it. He pulled his legs underneath him, shifting onto his knees and leaning forth on all fours, he took a double take, glancing into the water and at his reflection, his throat was parched and water seemed the only thing that would aid him there and then. He cupped his hands and dropped them into the flowing stream and raised it to wash his face thoroughly and hair before drinking handfuls of it ravenously.

He looked at himself once more, at the reflection that floated upon the ever changing stream of water. He looked odd, as if he had slept for days rather than hours, he suddenly wondered if he truly did sleep for days here. His cheeks seemed to be thinner than he remembered, dark flesh was underneath his eyes, but he dismissed that to the lack of sleep he sustained at Achorn Hill and the days prior to that. Besides that, some of his auburn hair was peppering to an odd gray, as if he had aged, in truth he was old, and he did not deny that. The horse nagged at him again.

“O-Off!” He grunted at the beast and the horse, wary as ever, sidled away, snorting his dismay and relief of his master’s action. He cursed several times as he tried to lurch to his feet. When did his body get so heavy? His bones felt old, aching and roaring their displeasure at his actions, he was too old for this, much too old.

He suddenly remembered the events of the night before; he was stock still in his place, eyes gone wide, and white all around. A nightmare, he told himself, trying to assure his mind that it was just a terror, that in truth he had fallen and his head landed a clean blow on a stray rock during the night. Goose prickles ran up his arms and spine, the hair on the back of his neck rose like hackles, if he was a wolf he would have snarled his defiance. That ever was changing voice, that once of seduction and than of deceit. The threat to his family seemed all too real and then the only thing in his mind, his sole goal to assure his family would be safe, was to travel onto Haven.

Silently he prayed to any god that would hear him and truly answer his prayers, that they would safely see his family to Achorn Hill and would take his life before allowing any harm to any of them. He slipped away his belt knife and caught his steed’s reins before swinging himself up and onto the saddle. Without another thought he held the reins tightly before giving his mount his head, the horse snorted, pawing one hoof to the gravel floor. Amyas looked back over his shoulder once and then forth, well knowing his destination as he ran his hand down his mount’s great neck and with that, kicked the horse into a burst of speed and life, galloping wildly into the light of day, his heart heavy with his woes.

His previous exhaustion was free of his shoulders, leaning across the neck of his mount as the beast galloped with life across the country side. The day was his; drawn like a moth to a flame he was, to Haven. Nothing would sate the worry that he held for his family until he could hold them within his protective embrace. He did not know where his mount and he himself had mustered such life and energy with themselves for such a travel, but the unity in the attempt and action of it was that of greatness.

They flew, or at least he could have sworn that they did, in their wake dust filled the air, the mane of his mount flowed like silk, he clung to the back of his beast in union to the gallop, whatever fear of dangers that would befall them from their treacherous speed was shaken free from his shoulders. Day and night they road, the beast between his thighs was weary of the ride and yet persisted to continue onward as much as he did. His stomach lurched and groaned for attention and he had ignored it, nothing would keep him from his destination and then there it was.

They had crowned the sloping hill, the stallion clambered up it in the way that truly showed its exhaustion, he clung to the beast fighting his eyes from sagging shut, his resolve burned within him as they crowned the hill. Just beyond them the torch lights were like the stars in the sky. Haven, it’s castle stood tall, challenging many to test their might against it’s stout billed walls and towers as high that many would have thought they could harm the sky. The walls about it were lit with torches and by those who walked it with a swinging lantern in hand.

He simply sat there staring in awe at what Haven now was. Outside of its walls stood hamlets and small cottages, for those who could not afford the coin to live safely within the walls of the city, grain fields stretched as far as the eye could see and cattle pulled in from the pasture crowded together, lazily dozing in their safety of a herd. The city was a forest of buildings and structures, it shamed many others of the beauty of it all, just beyond it the sea was as black as the night, the moon shimmered over it in its pale milk way. He was close, ever so close, just a little further and he would be greeted at the gate and allowed in by the midnight guard, they knew him here. They would accept him. This was as home as any other home he had ever known.

…And yet…

…He dreaded it.

And soon the Haven was beginning to loom over him, dwarfing him as he approached it, nudging his mount to cautiously move down hill, allowing the horse to pick its pace for he was too far in thought of what would happen – of what he must do. He was told to go to Haven and his family will be fine and would be delivered safely to Achorn Hill. He suddenly wondered at what he had agreed to, at what he was getting himself into. At what destiny had intended for him. But it was all too late to turn back, as the darkness of Haven swallowed him and destiny claimed him.

Forlorn Throne: Prologue

2008-02-22T18:16:00.000-08:00

Disclaimer: All contents of Forlorn Throne belong to Verity.

Dedicated to Roxana

Forlorn Throne

Prologue
Memories

I still remember the day. The day my weary mount cantered down a sun dappled path, where the over hanging limbs of an old oak parted the spilled sunlight like morning dew, a canopy of trees. I still remember how she looked there, her hair was in braids, spilling over one shoulder as the other was bared to kiss the sun, a basket under one arm as she stepped through the garden, our little boy clinging to her skirts whilst she picked the day’s burden. No doubt she had Artemis on the cook hearth just inside and the other little ones on chore throughout our homestead.

I still remember the look she gave me when she had lifted her eyes at the sound of my mount; she stared at me and dropped her basket, her eyes filled with tears as she ran to meet me, a hand clutching her white skirts, revealing her bared feet. My old bones roared at me, healed scars tightening when I flung myself from the saddle of my weary mount and ran to meet her...To embrace her. Her scent of honey and lavender, of the daffodils she grew. I still remembered the way she cried into my shoulder and struck my chest several times, damning me once more for leaving her to fight some Lord's war.

I still remember that she kissed me and forgave me, her mouth warm on my own, the taste of the mint leaf and honey that she enjoyed so much upon her mouth. I wiped her tears away with a callused hand, scarred by the sword I still wore and carried at my side, my burden.

I still remember how my little boy ran to meet me, crying out papa and how Artemis peeked out her head with widening eyes at the sight of me, much like her mother in the way her eyes filled with tears and she called out to the other little ones, a trail of children that ran to meet me, there and then I realized how much my family meant to me, how adored I was by them, innocent admiration and love for their father. I remembered the home I returned to, the welcoming warmth of my family. The familiar scents of the stable when I removed the tack from my mount and settled the horse into a stall before overlooking the hunting hounds that barked excitedly at my presence, the familiar scents of the garden when I had fetched what was picked for the day back into the tumbled basket.

The feel of my boy, his weight on my arms...He had grown since I last seen him, they all had. Artemis was now sixteen summers old, my boy Aubrey only five, Caroline and Rosemary, nine and ten. I still remember that the words of war were not uttered by any, but only our love for each other, they told me how the harvest had gone whilst I was gone, they told me of the market and the things that had happened. The familiar taste of a warm meal by the hands of my wife filled my belly and its warmth sent tendrils throughout my body...

I still remember the allure of her scent when she took me to bed that night, the way her eyes smiled and glinted with the lust we tangled together, the tuft of hair between her legs that of the hair upon her head, the taste of her mouth like honey upon my own, warm legs wrapped about my waist and her hands clasping my shoulders, my hands gentle on her lithe body lest she shatter and the zephyr that ventured forth through the catch of the shutters sweep her away from my grasp. Once, twice and thrice making love whilst her scent filled my senses overwhelming me until I had fallen asleep with my head upon her bosom, listening to the beat of her heart, her arms protective and warm about me, the memories of my boyish infatuation for her, the thoughts of our meeting long ago in a market place, how I had courted her and driven her father mad with my presence...Oh how I remember the love and warmth I returned to, my home.

And I still remember…

I’ll always remember…

…The day they took me away from home.

I had just returned from war, it was not an unusual thing for me and my wife, Roselyn oft understood. I had been taken off thrice before to battle for the King after, at a young age, I had taken apart of his guard barracks, becoming one with his war band. I was led to lead an attack on a stronghold where our enemies had gathered deep in the reaches of the Nibel Forest, we were to end them. There I had met the lord of Achorn Hill, Lihan Teimlia. I had often found myself in his company since that day forth, after the battle on the Nibel Fort we were constantly under harassment by the enemy. Long nights we had grown accustomed to, sleep? There was hardly such a thing. Nightmares, that’s what it seemed. Our caravan had been split and forced off its beaten path over a dozen times, we had lost more than we had at the Fort and even then, we seemed to manage. Before long we had left the reaches of the Nibel Forest, and found ourselves traveling to the northlands.

Geoffrey was rising against King Uriel in this time, speaking eloquently with fellow lords in order to gain their banners to his name and to his cause and those who refused were threatened with death and attack on their land, and to say that those threats were empty handed then one did not know Geoffrey. For he carried them out swiftly, one such battle was known as the siege of Achorn Hill. We had arrived at Achorn Hill to replenish ourselves and rest truly for the first day in many, it was only a day forth did we learn that Geoffrey would be marching on Achorn Hill to overtake it as a foothold in order to launch attacks on the fellow lands that surrounded it.

It was the bloodiest fight we had come across, Geoffrey’s number was threefold our own, and even then Lihan would not yield before Lord Geoffrey and had chosen to do battle. But Lihan had something else in mind for me…He made me promise to offer my sword to his Lady wife, Scarlett, and to do as she pleased and protect her and his bairns, Althea and Julian. I accepted the command with pride and the promise that my body and sword was theirs, that I would meet any danger headlong in their stead.

When I had first met the Lady of the Hill, as she would have been known, and the heirs to the lands of Teimlia, I was stunned. Now, there were many rumors and talk of the Lady of the Hill and the children that Lihan and Scarlett shared. One was which that no other’s beauty could match that of Scarlett’s, her languid grace and form was that of a bard’s tale and truth that was. Graceful as a cat, and the looks of a fey, she was beauty in the form of woman. Their children was something else, no one could ever doubt that the blood of a Teimlia flowed through their veins, they held the eyes of their father and beyond that, if one were to glance at the portrait of Sir William, they would see the light of that man in them. Even then, they looked so much like their mother; one could never doubt that they were from her hips and body, a little Scarlett and Lihan, which was what Althea and Julian were. They were loved by the folk of Achorn Hill and they were the reason why the men who had chosen to defend the land, both green and elderly, willingly offered their lives. Never before have I ever seen such a commitment and love towards someone, they could have been a King and Queen, Lihan and Scarlett.

Scarlett did not falter. That which was valuable in the manor was stored away in secret vaults that were settled into the hill underneath the manor itself, the vaults were only one of the many secrets of Achorn Hill. Now, I have seen many things in my life time, but what I have saw next had whispered to me of something beyond legendary. Scarlett had commanded me to gather those who were women and children and the elderly that deemed they could not fight and lead them from the Hill under her command and I did so. She led us to a stone wall behind the manor that pressed into the wall that surrounded all of Achorn Hill, the stone gave way and revealed darkness, thick that even the sun could hardly pierce it, a labyrinth of cobwebs as we wandered inside. The walk seemed to last near an eternity, wherever it led, I knew we were no longer in the wall. When finally we had reached a dead end I was commanded to lift the ceiling, after a moment it had given way to reveal to us how far we had traveled. In truth, we were no where near Achorn Hill, how far we had gone out I did not know, but the sound of a bubbling river reached my ears from afar and if one were to listen carefully one could hear the ballasts firing carrying on the wind.

The walk did not end there. A silent trail of people went along, the twins nursemaids watched over them as Scarlett went along, she looked thoughtful and eyes afar, if she wondered of Achorn Hill and her husband, I did not doubt it. We walked and on we went until we had come across the river that called to me as a siren from afar, and even then we did not end as she led us up the bank to what shook me…A ship lay there forlorn upon it’s hull, nestled there before the river, it’s lone figurehead gazing out longingly towards the water that was so dear to her and so close. She was naked as her name day, a beauty in truth. A stone stood before her as a platform as if to be an offering, or was it there just to allow whoever visited to touch her forearm? The ship defied all logic, it was as if it was unharmed and never aged, the wood seemed as sound as a newly settled ship, the trees sheltered it with its leaves and limbs lovingly, beautiful in all it’s glory.

What lasted next was longer than a fortnight; I could not remember the count of days that had passed the many moons that lingered over us and the long days. The sounds of ballasts ringing out in the night air, the worries that burdened us and yet did not show. Many had held their tears; they would not weep in front of the children if they could help it. The elderly coddled the heirs of the Hill, treating them as if they were their own grandchildren and as for the Lady of the Hill, Scarlett…She was hardly seen in those days in the company of any, there were times I would return to her to report what has happened “The river is clear and no one marches in our direction” It was something I had begun to repeat day in and day out.

But Scarlett was an odd one…She would relay information to me of what was happening in Achorn Hill during the time of the battle, how she knew? I had no idea, I wondered years after if she had another in our ranks that wandered back and forth through the labyrinth we had taken, someone who relayed messages from Lihan to her, but I doubted it, it would have put the labyrinth into dangers unwanted. I never doubted her words though despite it, I believed in them fervently, it was all I had.

Finally the day arrived, Scarlett was near out of breath when she came to me, speaking that we must venture back to the Hill, that it was over, Geoffrey had yielded and his forces retracted from the land, I couldn’t believe it…Truly, I said nothing of it, it was her belief and part of me wished to believe but…How could she know? What if we just arrived and all that there was, were bodies? I grudgingly nodded my assent to her and we left as quickly as we could. What we saw there…Achorn Hill was no longer what it was before, it was a mussed place, what was once homes was now nothing more than rubble, the main gates were smashed in, one of the doors lurched on it’s iron hinges, the smell of charred wood was in the air, we could see where the flames had eaten away and had been smothered.

There was a bard song only days after of how they spoke of Scarlett, she rode up the Hill and towards the manor to find her lord, caring naught for her skirts, her voice a siren’s call as Lord Teimlia called out for her to meet her beckoning voice. That day on the Hill Lihan had led a final attack against Geoffrey’s gathered forces on the crown of the Hill, in the process he had lost his long companion, Snow, his stallion. In the following days it was said that Lihan had fallen into a fever sickness, something not so uncommon after such a grievous loss and injury, which was dealt to his leg, later on Lihan would have a game leg from the quarrel wound in his thigh. Scarlett had assigned me to overlooking the reconstruction of Achorn Hill, something I had taken pride in and was sure to do my best to ensure Achorn Hill would be brought back to rights.

It was several days until Lihan awoke from his fever state, he had suddenly recovered, something that the old man, a priest kept nearby, couldn’t believe possible. My heart rose at the knowledge that Lihan would be alright and so did the mood of those from the Hill. It wasn’t long till Achorn Hill was to rights and even then, things did not settle for me. Our war captain had approached me with a letter, delivered by a bird, news of our King, his health was faltering and I was to return to my post alongside four others.

Part of me was glad to return home and beyond other things…My heart lurched at the thought of my King’s health faltering. I had begged my leave from the Lady of the Hill and audience with Lihan beforehand to tell him of the King and that I would be leaving, it was then that Lihan had offered my family sanctuary in Achorn Hill if ever they needed it and that my children would be allowed to take their lessons alongside his own and to page for Lihan and Scarlett. I could not lie that the offer was an attractive one and considered it very seriously and accepted it from him as reward for my hand in his battle. That was the last time I had seen Lihan and Scarlett and even the bairns. I had ridden back to Haven in haste with four others at my heels, it was a three day trek turned to a day, I did not rest and the victuals I had taken with me were fruits and dried meats to last me the travel.

Upon arriving in Haven it was in disarray, news of the King’s failing health had reached the ears of many and most looked stricken, it seemed wherever I went the gloom would not lift. I had gone to the castle to report.
There he was, laying there in his sick bed, he looked withered and old, sunken and haggard, he was not my King, not the man I had oft glanced up to upon his throne, not the man I followed upon his hunting sessions. Much like my senior captain had done before me I had begun to fall into the order of reporting to my King, the man hardly seemed as if he listened and if he did, I doubted it was with even half an ear. He had completely dismissed all I said after my words came to an end when he commanded me – “Go home to your wife and children Amyas.”

…And I did.

I had just returned from war when I had come home and to my loving family.

They took me away from them.

…My loyalty to the throne tore me from all I loved.

…I remember…

Forlorn Throne: Chapter I

2008-02-22T16:48:00.000-08:00

Disclaimer: All contents of Forlorn Throne belong to Verity.

Dedicated to Roxana.

Forlorn Throne

Chapter I
Wallow

"Scarlett is fey in every which way, to the tips of her hair and to the ends of her toes. Eyes of lavender and the lips of a curling rose petal, flesh as freshly fallen snow and the lithe grace of a cat. A sylph she was, a water sprite of the purest of love, the apple of every eye. The voice of a siren, beckoning sailors to her will, her touch that of a warm summer night, her mouth of melting honey. Beauty she was, beauty she was."
- Verse of Minstrel Arian’s ‘The Fey’

The warmth of the firelight danced in the hearth, chasing the shadows away and dancing along their naked flesh. Her chest rose underneath his head, his ear pressed over where her heart would beat in a soothing manner. He still ached, a groan left him as he lifted himself from her body and she murmured something under her breath, turning onto her side as he crawled off and slipped his legs from the bed and to the cool floor, dropping his face into his hands momentarily. Home, the only thought that filled him with warmth, he did not realize how much he had truly missed his family. She murmured again, possibly from the cool air that touched her naked flesh, he turned and reached over to pull the covers over her body and tuck her in, brushing a few strands of her honey hair from her face and she cooed contently in her sleep, a smile curling her lips as she nestled her face into the pillow. He slipped from the bed as naked as his name day before fetching his trousers so carelessly tossed to the floor. He slipped them on and patted barefoot to the hearth fire, the dwindling flames licked over the remainder of the log it hugged, with one hand he leaned over and tossed in a new log and watched the flames creep up its surface and begin light brighter, heating the room.

He gave one last look over his shoulder to his beloved Roselyn before leaving the room. Restless he was, sleep was something he longed for but in the past days it was something that he had hardly paid any mind. He wandered the halls of the quaint cottage they lived in, it all seemed so small now compared to the halls of the manor house in Achorn Hill. Suddenly his mine settled on the offer that Lihan had made him, there would be rooms for his children and wife there at Achorn Hill, awaiting them, his children would have play friends and lessons. In truth, it would have been safer than living where they did now, away in the valley with only the fields to look out to. He settled against the wall and peeked in the door that was slightly ajar, inside he could see Artemis sleeping beside the little ones in a protective manner.

Truly, he did want his children to have a prosperous future, to no longer worry that if he had disappeared they would be taken care of well…In truth, the offer was something more than he deserved. He watched Artemis stir and lift her head, glancing in the direction the door, he smiled and she did so as well before resettling her head on the pillow. He pulled the door shut and stepped away and wandered down the hall, running his fingers through his hair wearily. Only the moon light spilled somewhat through the shutters as he walked through and pushed open the door to let himself outside. Fresh air that was all he needed. To clear his thoughts and relax, to understand that now he could live his life, that he was dismissed from the service and allowed to enjoy the rest of his life finally, without being taken away from his loved ones. Isn’t that what any man would want? Yet he felt his heart lurch inside his chest and he couldn’t help but let himself sit on the porch steps, hands dropped between his knees. The sound of the leaves greeted him here, rustling in the wind’s wake, eyes trailing down the trodden path that was the lane to their home.

He did not know how long he sat there, hunched over in his thoughts and the endless staring down the path that he rode, it seemed nearly never ending. He had returned home finally and there would be no reason for him to leave on the morn; he would not need to return to Haven. What was there left for him now? Once his life as a soldier was all that made up his life but now that was stripped of him. His ailing king had dismissed him of the service after his report of the long tale of Lihan and the battle that ensued at the Hill, he would have protested – He tried. But with a look from his former King and a motion of his hand he was dismissed. There was more to his life than a long life of servitude, in truth he had done more than most men for his king and now he should enjoy this, this simple life and warmth of his family. Now he could stay here and enjoy his life one day at a time. His eyes traveled to the small stable and then to the chicken’s coop and the garden and fields. There was much work to do here and oddly he could see himself doing such. He sighed.

“What’s wrong?” She asked of him as she leaned against the door jamb and peered out, her robe concealing her naked body, her arms crossed underneath her chest, pulling the robe closer and tighter along her body from the chill of the world outside her door. “Nothing, go to bed Roselyn” And she laughed, a throaty chuckle as she stepped out from the door jamb, the door slowly swinging till it was slightly ajar. She knelt behind him, one hand on his shoulder and chin pressing to the other, kissing his ear and whispering, the wind a chorus to her words. “I know when things stir in your mind Amyas. When something troubles you I can tell, from the stoop of yours shoulders and the way your face looks. Oh, don’t give me that look” She laughed when he glanced over his shoulder to her, a prickle up his spine from her words. They had been together for such a long time – He should’ve known better than to lie to her. “Roselyn” He murmured and gave her an apologetic glance. “Oh, my sweet, sweet man…” She cooed over him, her arms wrapping about him warmly, protectively as she pressed her cheek into the back of his neck. He leaned into her, head lolling back just slightly.

“I’ve been dismissed from the service” He said in a low voice, as if fearing that the children would hear. Roselyn was silent, listening. “I had returned just to be dismissed from the ranks and sent home” “That is a good thing…We have missed you dearly” Roselyn murmured and shifted to lay her head on his shoulder, looking up at the side of his face, in truth she was not concerned with the loss of coin, they had enough saved and even then their whatever they had managed on their garden they were able to sell off if the need had arisen. She knew that Amyas would find work somewhere else – A farm hand if needed, albeit it wouldn’t rake as much coin as his work at the Keep did. “It is” He admitted, there was a time when he was a soldier when he wished dearly to return home to the warm arms of his wife and to hold his children once more. “Roselyn” He reached up and touched the back of her hand and she propped up her head “Hm?” She rose one of her fine brows in question. He could have told her there and then.

He knew secretly that she hid her worries of coin and how they would live, yes, they could live off their land for a while but what then when winter came and clutched at them? What would they do? How could they care for themselves then? It was the only thing he had left, tell her of Lord Teimlia’s offer, free teaching at the manor for their young ones and that they would be cared for and have a home to call for their own. He watched her eyes and she eyed him suspiciously when he didn’t speak and then her look became one of worry “Amyas?” She leaned closer, her nose brushing his own before her brow pressed to his own, hugging his shoulders tightly. “We will have no reason to worry for coin Roselyn.” He told her slowly and paused, looking into her eyes as she took it in. “Lord Teimlia has offered residence in his manor, for you and the little ones…” His words faded as he canted his head in question at what she thought of it.

Roselyn watched him and hugged him tightly, hands roaming down his chest “Truly?” She asked of him and contained a smile, her head was suddenly dizzy with the offer, and it was quite attractive indeed. To not worry of how they would care for themselves during the winter and for other such necessities. But the knowledge that their children would have such a chance at a bright and wonderful future was what mattered most. “Oh Amyas” She never even wondered at what he must have done to receive such an honor and attractive offer. She clung to him and smiled, tears in her eyes “That would be wonderful” She said cheerfully and kissed his mouth warmly. And it was decided, they would go to Achorn Hill in due time to accept Lihan’s offer of warm hospitality. His heart lifted at the thought of that, in truth he had wished to return there to the land of folk in which courage and pride burned with fervor.

There was nothing more to say. Her hand touched his face, running fingertips lovingly down his flesh, kissing his mouth once more as his own sought hers. She stood away from him and smiled, her eyes wet from her tears of joy as she bit her lip. In the next instant they were like young lovers once more. He remembered the time she had led him up into the loft of the barn, escaping the heavy rain that was relentless. The way her hair stuck to her flesh and her clothing clung in a bothersome way, the way she kissed his mouth then was no different from how she did so now. Much like before she led him to the loft above the pens and stalls of sleeping beasts, but instead of escaping her parents they were leaving in a hopes of not waking the little ones whilst partaking their passion. He fumbled out of his trousers whilst she parted her robe revealing her naked body underneath, with a feral lust that welled within him, he took her.

He laid there and groaned as he shifted onto his side and peered down onto her smiling face, her cheeks hinted red from their passion. His hair was matted to his forehead with sweat and he sighed out a heavy breath as he propped himself onto an elbow, her fingertips danced on his chin and chest, tracing out figures that were not there. “I missed you” She whispered to him and looked up into his eyes as he peered down upon her “As I have you” “Never leave me again” She begged him and touched his face as he touched her hair, letting it fall between his fingertips like silk. “Never again” He promised her and sought her mouth with his own, kissing her warmly. But she touched his chest, pushing him from her and smiled mischievously. “The sun is coming up” She murmured and glanced to the shutters; he followed her gaze and found that she was right. Dawn was coming; the clouds were all of different shades, orange, blue and violet. “We should go to bed” She said and his gaze lowered finding that she was watching him “Before the little ones awake” And he bobbed his head in assent and with a groan, lurched to his feet before slipping on his trousers, whilst she slipped her arms through her robe and tied it shut, smiling to him with the admiration of a younger woman.

They had snuck back into the cottage, careful and wary of the children that slept in the near room. When they had found their own room, he had shut the door and latched it shut, suddenly he had felt weary. Her hand on his shoulder and a kiss to the back of his neck told him that it was time to rest as she took his hand and led him to the featherbed. It wasn’t long till he was resting beside her, his arms wrapped about her and his head tucked over her own, her scent filling his nostrils and her presence overtaking him.

He was not sure how long he had slept, the sun was pouring in through the open shutters and made the inside of his eyelids bright, with a groan he slipped his arm over his face to shield it as he turned away and buried his face into the feather bed. His hand reached over absentmindedly and felt where his lover had laid, but she was no longer there. He lifted his head and groaned, his body ached from their passionate tryst the night before. The hearth fire had gone low to nothing more than glowing embers in their nest of charred wood. He slipped his legs from the bed and dropped his face into his hands, rubbing the tiredness from his face as he lurched to his feet with a sigh and left the room.

Roselyn was at the table with Caroline and Rosemary doing their needlework, Roselyn smiled wryly at him in a knowing way at the familiar ache after a night of passion. Rosemary looked up from her work and smiled with a “Good morning papa” whilst Caroline echoed her, kissing their brows and then their mother, Roselyn would mutter “There’s some food kept warm by the hearth for you, I thought it best for you to rest in bed” He smiled at that and wandered off to the cook hearth, there on the stones laying in a pot was warmed pieces of meat and eggs, a loaf of bread stuffed with nuts and fruit lay beside the pot and a kettle of tea. Graciously he had taken it, it had been too long since he had been home to enjoy a morning fast.
It wasn’t long before the girls were becoming bored of the endless tat of their needlework and begged off to wander outside for a time, Roselyn consented only if they return early for their supper and the girls were gone. I didn’t need to ask over Artemis or Aubrey for I knew that , unlike the other girls, Artemis was one who enjoyed any kind of work, including caring for their hounds and horses, Aubrey would be following at her heels no doubt, otherwise he would have been dousing underneath the table, needlework as his dream’s music.

He was still eating, peering out from the open shutters from where he sat when Roselyn draped her arms about his shoulders, holding him as she followed his gaze to their two little girls in their frocks, daisies in their hair much like their mother’s own. “They’ve grown since last you’ve been here” “Much” He admitted grudgingly and ate his food slowly, savoring its taste.
“They missed you,” she whispered, kissing his ear and smiling “I think they feel safer that papa is home now” “As they should be” He replied with a smile “There was a time where I promised them I would protect them from anything and I still vow to keep that promise.” “Oh, how dramatic” She teased and slipped her arms from him, stepping over to the table to settle away all the needlework stuff into a basket before setting it on a shelf.

He remembered that time she had called him dramatic, he was young and heady with infatuation for her, he promised her he’d protect her from anything, stand between her and those dangers. She teased him then and that was something that still held till now. Despite teasing him, she knew he would lay down his life for her and their children.
Then it happened.

“Papa” Rosemary called out as she and Caroline ran to the steps of their cottage. He stood from the table and went to the door, pulling it open to see the little ones and lifting his head in query at the sound of pounding hooves on the lane. Just beyond the little fist and pointing hand of Rosemary’s as she clung to his trousers was a rider, smoke and dust streamed in the wake of his stallion, cloak billowing and a stoic intent face was his mask. Roselyn came to the door and peered out, holding to the door jamb as Amyas stood there. “What is it?” She asked of him and he knew what it was, something he feared. “Go inside” He told the little ones and his wife “Amyas?” She queried “Take the girls in, I will be back.” He told her and she obeyed, albeit grudgingly as the little girls chimed in worry “Papa? What is going to happen? Papa?”

They nearly cried out as their mother took their hands and pulled them inside, Amyas retreated inside to retrieve a shirt and his boots quickly and returning to the doorway and then stepping out to greet the rider. Just beyond, at the stable he noticed Artemis peek out her head to see what was happening, Aubrey peeking just behind her and with a gesture of his hand Artemis pulled Aubrey inside to busy him. Part of him wondered if the rider would run him down there and then, but before it was only a shy bit from happening, the rider buckled and tugged on the reins, stallion skidding across the beaten path abruptly. He was panting; the horse seemed weary and sweating as it shook its large head. “Amyas?” The messenger asked of him, whilst the dust that the messenger and horse had waked upon the path had begun to settle.

“This is he” Amyas murmured and waited for what would come next, revealing and baring himself whilst he awaited what urgent message that would be revealed to him. “I was sent in haste to you by Captain Johan” The man took a breath and here it came, the next words would be hard to speak and Amyas knew it was what was intended. “The King has died” His heart suddenly lurched in chest, tears stung his eyes and he blinked them away lest he betray his sorrow, his eyes sought for something, anything to focus upon. He was not sure what to do, but the man seemed to take an eternity to continue as if waiting for the words to settle in. Amyas stumbled back somewhat, after finding his footing he settled onto the porch steps, hands between his knees as he looked down upon them. The backs of his hands were scarred from the work he had done and the long years of his loyal service to the throne, to the man who had given him his chance to better his life. “There is more” The messenger spoke on but Amyas raised his hand to silence him, he couldn’t hear no more, not now. He had much to think over. “Please, you must be hungry and your horse seems weary of the travel you must have taken in haste” The messenger looked near to protest but Amyas gave him a look that brooked no argument and suddenly food seemed the more important thing.

Amyas had called for Roselyn and she had come, welcoming the messenger inside and offering him part of their morning fast as Amyas had led the weary and wary horse to the stable. Artemis seemed ready to ask a thousand questions of him but knew better when Amyas entered, she dragged her little brother out near instantly to return to the cottage, and Amyas spared one final glance over his shoulder as they left. At the empty stall the horse was eager to enter and settle at the feed that was offered as Amyas removed his tack and left to haul water from the stream and set it in the trough. When there was nothing more to do for the horse he had decided it was time to return to the cottage and face what other news that would be bestowed upon him.
When he had entered the cottage, he could see that the messenger was having his fill of his fast, eating rather ravenously but sure of his manners. Caroline and Rosemary were playing with their dolls, he suddenly remembered the ones he had purchased on the road for his daughters, Lihan had purchased similar as well for his own twins. Artemis sat cross legged upon the hearth stones, Aubrey in her lap and dozing, heading lolled into her shoulder as she sung softly to him a nursery rhyme. Roselyn stood by the hall, lingering by the door jamb as she looked on, her eyes traveling to Amyas for that one moment, he avoided her eyes. If there was worry that showed upon her face at that, he did not know.

Amyas made his way to the table, setting himself down from across the messenger who had begun to slow himself and set down his hands, ready to speak but Amyas silenced him with a hand and motioned it “Continue” he told him and watched him eat, thoughts going through his mind. It wasn’t long until the man had finished his share of food and gave his thanks to Roselyn in which she came over, taking the platter and moving aside to set it away. It was an awkward silence that ensued, Amyas watched him and the messenger seemed uncomfortable, it seemed higher news than it should have been, the messenger’s flickered to the others in the room and Amyas understood fully. “Roselyn take the little ones outside, Artemis take Aubrey with you and go with your mother.” Artemis glanced over her should and nodded before lifting Aubrey into her arms and standing and waiting by the door for the other little ones, Roselyn led them out with one worried glance back, each clinging to her skirts whilst holding their dolls to themselves.

When Amyas judged they were out of earshot he gave a nod of consent to the man, who sighed out. “As I’ve told you before, Captain Johan had sent me to relay the news to you and to fetch you” “Fetch me?” “Yes” Amyas was thoughtful, to return once more, to pay respects to the man he called his King, yes that seemed right. “We must leave as soon as we can, Johan says we must make haste and not waste a moment of our time” the messenger added lastly. Secretly, Amyas knew there was something more urgent than the King’s death, he should say no, it was his time to rest now, just as King Uriel had said and granted to him. Johan wanted him for something more than to pay his respect to the man he once knew. But his traitorous lips moved, his mouth shifted, he spoke.

“…Alright…”

It was something that he found harder to do than most things he had ever done in his life time. His loyalty to his King, even in death, seemed to burn with more fervor than for his family. He loved them, he truly did and would no doubt lay his life down for them if he must, but he was torn. He had begun to ready his saddle bags when Rosemary and Caroline came running into the stable, sobbing hysterically and clinging to him as if he were to shatter in the merest instant, their sobs turned his heart in his chest. Artemis had come running after them, attempting to calm them, to soothe them of their worries, that papa would be back soon. But even he knew that was a lie. He promised them fervently that he would return in due time, in less than a fortnight. That he never leave again after that, that the King wanted to see Papa and then will let him return home. It was a lie and he suspected that they knew it was so, yet they clung to that false hope as they hugged him and kissed his face, even Artemis, he sweet daughter seemingly so strong at times broke into tears as she clung to him like the little girl he once had known, it reminded him of the times she’d run into their room after a horrid night terror and he would check under her large bed and then lull her to sleep, promising he’d watch over her all night and keep the monsters away.
The messenger stood outside of the stable, watching in, his horse’s reins in hand and ready. He held Artemis at arms length and looked down upon her, she looked much like him, even that auburn hair and turquoise eyes, daisies in her hair like a crown and braids falling to her face. He kissed her brow and let her go.

Leading out his horse by the reins he was greeted by his wife, holding a sobbing Aubrey who buried his face into her shoulders, it tore his heart to see that his son would not look upon him. His boy’s shoulders shuddered with every sob. Roselyn looked upon him stricken, the promises that he would never leave were already being torn and she knew that this was no fortnight task that he would probably not return for weeks, months or even possibly a year. He blinked his eyes to keep back the tears as he touched her face, and she let the tears go freely. He embraced her, mindful of the child between them before kissing her mouth, his final kiss. “I love you” He told her “My sweet robin, I love you so much” “Amyas” She choked on a sob and buried her face into the crook of his neck as he held her, he knew the messenger was looking away, pretending to focus upon something else and look uninterested in what unveiled before him. Amyas took the chance to whisper into her ear. “Pack up and gather the children, board up the cottage and stable, go to Achorn Hill, beg audience of Lihan or the Lady of the Hill…Tell them…Tell them that I accept their offer. Our children is proof enough of who we are. They will see me in their eyes.” And she nodded her head, wiping her eyes with one hand as the other supported a now silent Aubrey. He parted from her with one final kiss before stepping away and heading to a waiting stallion, he pulled himself onto the saddle, the messenger gave him a look and they both nodded as they had begun to turn their mounts’ heads towards the lane.

“Papa, Papa!” Aubrey cried out, prying free of Roselyn’s arms as they were heading down the lane, the little boy was running down the lane chasing after him, Amyas dropped from the saddle and to the floor in a fluid motion and caught the boy in his arms, dropping to one knee. The boy buried his face into his shoulder, clinging tightly to his father as he sobbed. “I don’t want you to go Papa, please” He begged in his soft, thin voice, cracked with his tears. There’s nothing harder than pulling away from sobbing child who only wished to have you in their world and asks for nothing else. “I will return” He promised, smoothing the boy’s tousled hair and wiping his tears. “But you’ll need to be strong and protect your mother and sisters while I’m gone. Will you do that for?” He touched the boy’s shoulders and he gave a stiff nod, sniffing his nose. “I will Papa” He promised. “Good,” Amyas kissed his brow “That’s a good lad, now go on to your mother” He stood up and clambered back onto his horse, giving him another glance and smiling. “My sword is yours, son. I will lay it down between you and any dangers that come your way. I will always protect you, in this life and the next.” He said as he rode off, turning his gaze up to his daughters and Roselyn and then away, leaving his son standing in the wake of their departure, his family watching him off once more, left to wonder when he would return and if he would return alive.

Somehow, he thought he wouldn’t.