The Book of the Broken

[ChrisGibson]

And let's face it: it was good to get out of the damned forest.

 

[ChrisGibson]

AS THEY JOURNEY WEST, OHEAN REFLECTS ON HIS PAST AND WHAT HAS BROUGHT HIM TO HIS CURRENT LIFE

OHEAN​

That last night in the New Forest, as they were coming to the border of Westrial, they slept so late it was nearly morning, and birds could be heard, stirring in the heights of the trees. Red firelight flagged in and out on the trees great shadows while, beside them, the last of the logs gave faint explosions.
“So all those years ago,” Anson began, “after I had been returned to Kingsboro, when you almost came back for me, when you left the Rootless Isle, where did you go?”
“My mother Senaye was born of the Rootless Isle. Her mother was Messanyn the great priestess, but her father was Math King of Rheged whose Queen had been a daughter of Ifandell Modet. So, I went to Rheged and then Chyr, the very lands where we shall go..”
“What happened there? Will you tell me?”
“Not all of it. Not this night. But some of it, yes…”


I traveled through these very woods, and what I found then is a tale for later. But, at long last, after many days, as the sun set I was out of the woods, I could see the high upward sloping plains of Rheged, long and flat and green before the sunset. I followed the sun, headed northwest, and slept in a thicket by the side of the road.
This was how I met the Traveling People. I hailed them and asked where they were going, and the leader, large bellied with a rag tied about his head, said that they were headed to Rheged, to the city of Cosmontond, and so I joined them.
“I can read cards,” I said. “But I imagine you can as well.”
The Travelers are related to the Tribes, and swarthier than the Ayl, but not as dark as most Royan, and the thin, tall brother of their leader said, “Well, I never heard of a Royan that read the cards, not for all your magicks. I would like to see what you can do.”
And whatever I had done, it must have been enough, because the tall thin one, who was called Gabriel, laughed, and told their leader: “This one has put you to shame. He will make a pretty penny for us, if he don’t scare the folks off. Uncanny, him!”
So through the towns of southern Rheged, winding up and down the villages of the hill country, I read fates and was entranced by the green land, the high steep hills and hidden valleys. In that company was a tall Royan named Ralph. He was handsome and dragon eyed, and I wondered if he might be the one I had seen in the card spread. Still, I had spent most of my life alone, and so when I saw that whenever I sat up late at night, looking up at the stars, rehearsing the songs I had learned in the woods, or practicing my magic, he was coming near, and sitting by me I said, “Friend, Ralph. What can I do for you?”
“Nothing at all,” he smiled at me almost foolishly, foolishly, but like a dragon all the same. “I just like to be around you.”
I nodded my head.
“I have had very little of people being around me in my life,” I said.
“Could you bear it?” he asked.
“Yes,” I said at last. “I think I could.”
At last I parted from the Travelers, when they were going north and I toward the sea. I was surprised when Ralph came with me and he said, “You don’t have the tongue of Rheged and you are not from the Young Kingdoms. You do not know this land at all, I do not think, or how to get to Cair Daronwy.”
I did not deny him, but we traveled under the stars and under the high sun through cities which were growing larger, hanging off of the sea cliffs like dangerous grey acrobats, and beneath us the sea slowly rolled into coves and crashed upon rocks and cliffs. Sea birds winged, and the smell of salt was in the cool air. We could make it to Cair Daronwy before the Year’s End Dance.
So, through the towns of southern Rheged, winding up and down the villages of the hill country, I read fates and was entranced by the green land, the high steep hills and hidden valleys.
One morning we stayed in a cave, for a storm was coming, and we did not feel much like going to the inn and the town below, and I cursed Ralph for not buying a horse, but he said, “Could you afford two?” And then I simply shrugged. This, he said, was the last day of our journey anyway.
As we came past midday, the sky in the distance was grey and heavy, and then, as we came closer to our goal, I saw this was smoke. Ralph put a protective hand to my chest.
“Tread carefully.”
Whatever I was, he had something of the soldier and tracker in him, and so I followed his lead and let him protect me. We were behind a wall of hills that shielded us from the city, and as we came toward it, before we could see the glory of the city of Cair Daronwy, that which should have greeted us, we saw, in the descending plain to the sea, smoke and fire and dead men, and there was a burning Dayne ship in the bay that had been put down.
I ran before Ralph could stop me for, after all, these were my father’s people, and there was power in me. I did not know what I was planning to do, but at the first man I stopped to see if he lived. He was coughing, and blood was coming up from his mouth like a dark red fountain. I sat by him and held his head and sang him a song of death. I was doing this for several, and in time had Ralph to bring me water for those who could drink, and so my entrance into the world of Cair Daronwy was as nurse and deathmaster.
` It was like this that a tall and handsome man, princely, looked down upon me and asked my name, adding his thanks. He was in beaten down armor and I said plainly “I am Ash of the Rootless Isle, and I have come, at long last to the court of Cair Daronwy, to my grandfather King Math.”
At this the man’s eyes changed and he took me by the wrist.
“Come now,” he said.
I asked no questions, though Ralph did.
“He is my friend,” I said simply,” and the man nodded for him to follow.
We came into a tent where a man lay nearly dying, well in need of my aid, and I came to him.
“Can I help you?” I asked.
“You are the son of Senaye?”
“Yes.”
“This is your uncle, Prince Geranhir,” the tall man said. Beside him was a boy, a little younger than me, but I paid no attention to this, only went to my knees.
Blood was on his lips, and he coughed up blood.
“I am Ash,” I told him. “I finally came. I am here.”
The man looked at me in wonder, and then he gripped my hand very hard. He tried to smile. I did not cry. It wasn’t in me.
“You look just like her,” he said.
“Your uncle,” my Geranhir said, pointing to the man who had brought me here, but he coughed up a whole spurt of blood.
“Other uncle,” he corrected.
“Enough,” I said, nodding. “We will all be family now. Just be still.”
I placed my hand lightly on his chest and a pool of blood flowed through my fingers as he sighed.
“Let me sing to you.”

"Levantaré os ollos nos outeiros,
De onde virá o meu helven.
A miña axuda que provén do Señor,
Quen fixo o ceo e a terra.

Non sufrirá o movemento do teu pé:
O ninguén será Non estarás alí
Si, quen o garda
Ossaryad dorme e non dorme.

O señor é o teu guardián:
O Señor é a túa sombra
A túa man dereita. "

And when I had done, I looked down upon him. He could not have been even forty. He was a beautiful man, dark like the princes of Rheged, as if crafted from ebony, with fine black wooly curls, firm lips, a straight nose. I closed the eyes which stared up and were beginning to frost over.
I rose from my knees and gathered my black cloak about me, pulling my hood over my head and turning from mourning the kinsman I had never known. How would mother feel to know her brother was gone even as her sister and Essily? As I walked slowly out of the tent, a hand reached out and touched mine. I looked to the boy beside my other uncle, Prince Amr. This was young Prince Idris.
“Welcome home, Cousin,” he said.

Ralph came out of the tent and followed me.
“Ash!”
“Forgive me,” I said. “I didn’t mean to leave you.”
“Nevermind me,” Ralph said. He took my hand. “Let us go.”
We were halfway up the hill when a rider on a black horse bearing the red banner of Rheged came down.
“Are you Prince Ash?”
“And this is my companion, Ralph.”
The man nodded.
“Word has been sent. Rooms are prepared for you in the palace.”
I nodded, then said, “Is that horse for us?”
I sensed the man was about to say it was for me, but he looked at Ralph and said, “Yes.”
I was a poor rider. Ralph assisted me, and together we rode up the hill to a castle that was larger than a city, many walled and stretching all the way down the great hill, impressive even in the gloom. Watch fires burned from under its highest towers and it seemed the main keep was like a great berg as they have in the northern seas and there were at least three terraces of high walls. It was too marvelous, and I was too sad and tired to take it all in under the grey sky.
The man who led us was a chamberlain I later learned had the name Raleigh, and we passed through many baileys into the heart of a keep so high it had lifts that took us to our rooms.
“Undress,” Ralph commanded me. “Do not worry about bathing. When it is time I will bathe you.”
I undressed in the room lit by only one lamp, though, by its dimness, I perceived the place to be large and rich. When I was done, Ralph brought me a nightgown and some food that had been set outside the door.
“I only want the soup. You have the rest.”
Ralph did not argue me, but he ate only his portion knowing me too well. When I was done with the soup I ate the rest and then said, “I could sleep an age. But not just yet. I wish to sit up a bit and look around.”
There were books all along the wall, and I fanced that as soon as I got out of this chair I would go and look at them. But instead, when I woke, several hours had passed and the light had gone out. The moon came out for the first time in days, and by its light I saw this large room and the great bed and Ralph, stretched out naked, asleep like a child. He had not crawled under the covers, and now I did the laborious work of pulling them from under him, over him, and then I crawled into the bed beside him.


Late the next morning there was a knock at the door and I rose to answer. Ralph was still asleep in the bed, and I thought he deserved it. I saw briefly the blue sky from the window and the sparkle of the blue water. I saw the balcony beyond the curtain and promised to return and look out upon the ocean. But now I opened the door.
“Uncle.”
Prince Amr returned my bow.
“Nephew, we thought to let you sleep. I can have breakfast sent up to you. My royal father would like to take luncheon with you.”
I was surprised by this, but then I said, “What if I were to take my late breakfast with him? Is he over busy?”
“I think,” Amr said looking at me with what I thought was approval. “He would be glad of it.”
“Give me a moment to dress.”
“I can have other clothes sent for you.”
“Doubtless those are better clothes, but these are my clothes, and it will take much longer if I am waiting for new ones. I wish to meet my lord and grandsire as soon as possible.”
Amr said, “I will send Raleigh back here in…. is less than half an hour a good time?”
“It is, Uncle.”
“Yes, and he will lead you to the small hall where father spends his late mornings.”
I was already ravenous as soon as Amr had left the room. I saw beyond this chamber a white stone bath with a deep tub where I would certainly enjoy myself in time. But for now it was the wash basin and towel and I tried to move about quietly, not opening up the curtains to let in the sun so that Ralph might sleep on.
In the promised twenty minutes, Raleigh, a large boned bear of a Royan with wooly black hair and a broad caramel face came for me. He was talkative, but I was not. I had learned that smiling and laughing made up for this, and he led me through many hallways and so I learned, as he talked, that as long and confusing as my journey seemed, I was in the main keep and that the whole royal family lived here, all the extended lords and ladies of the various realms, and in time I was led up a stairway to the small hall which made me wonder, as I saw the long windows looking out to the sea and the vaulted ceiling with its cross beams, how large the main hall was.
There was a little throne backed by a black banner with a rampant golden lion upon it, but it was at a long table with two plates incongruously close, one waiting for me, and one before an old man I assumed was King Math.
“Grandfather,” I bowed.
He looked up at me, surprised but happy.
“You are my grandson. Senaye’s boy, the one raised on the Holy Isle.”
“Yes.”
“Sit,” he gestured to the chair. “Sit. Sit.”
I did.
“How is your mother?”
“She is well.”
“She should have been the Lady. She is a great woman. I imagine you are great in magic as well.”
“I have a little of the gift.”
“I am sorry you could not have known your uncle,” the old King said. Then he said, “I did not want him to go out. The Daynes with their dreadnoughts, they come twice a year to raid. They don’t get much, not like in the old days when they surprised us or when they surprised the Hales. But we must fight.”
“Surely there is a way,” I said, without thinking—for I had planned merely to humor an old man—“to stop them.”
“We would have to go north to their home,” the king said. “We would have to conquer them. In fact, we would have to aid that Prince Edmund in taking the central part of Sussainy away from the Dayne King.”
“Do you make allegiances with the Hales?”
“Never,” King Math said. “The Council frowns upon it.”
“The Council?”
“The Derwydd of the Hidden Tower, they who lead us in all things as the White and the Grey Monks lead the Ayl.”
I nodded. I had a great deal to learn.
I did not say that the derwydd had magic at their command, nor did I say there was no good reason the Royan should suffer anything from Daynish hands. As I looked about the most splendid hall I had ever seen, with lights that did not depend on torches and towers raised high as small mountains, as I looked out onto the great harbor far, far below I thought, “I do not understand this land. I must learn what it is about before I make any suggestions.”
“Are your rooms to your liking?”
“Yes, Grandfather.”
“We can change them if you like. We did not know you were coming.”
The old man frowned.
“Neither did we know the Dayne were on their way.”
“My rooms are very fine.”
“Good,” Grandfather said, sounding very tired.
I realized I had not touched my food, and set to the sausage and to the coffee.
“You have a hunger about you. Like your father, Jasper. Good for you.”
Then Math’s mahogany face was still, like a mask, and his eyes were staring off somewhere. For a brief moment he looked like my great grandfather, Mahonry, and my heart ached wondering where he was. I had expected to see him here. Somehow, I had expected Rheged and the palace to be smaller, everything and all I looked for to be in one place.
“If you wish to go into the great hall,” Math said, quietly, “your uncle lies there. How Senaye loved him. We will send him off tonight. Tonight after dark.”
I nodded.
“I will send Raleigh to bring you and your friend to supper. After the supper we will see Geranhir father off. If you could not be here while he lived, I am glad you are here now in his place. Welcome, Grandson.”



When I returned to my rooms, Ralph was awake in bed.
“I wondered where you were?”
“You didn’t wonder too much,” I said, laughing. “You’re still in bed.”
“Well, yes,” Ralph chuckled and turned over, punching the pillow.
I wanted to climb back into bed with him, but I felt there was so much to do and he said, “Well, I guess I knew what I was doing when I met you. Of all the strays to a Travelers caravan I could have taken up with…”
“Be quiet,” I said.
There was a polite but apparently merely symbolic knock on the door followed by Raleigh’s entrance with baskets of clothing and three other male servants.
“They are here to clean the royal apartments.”
“Leave the bed alone!” Ralph cried from under the covers.
“Lord, isn’t he your servant?” Raleigh asked.
Ralph’s head shot up from the covers, frowning.
“He is nothing like my servant,” I said, “but he is mine. Feel free to make the bed tomorrow, but everything else attend to.”
They opened the curtains to let in the sun to Ralph’s displeasure—until I closed the bed curtains, and they revealed that my quarters were in an octagonal tower divided betweem three great rooms, the book filled anteroom with its desk and a great globe, which they had come through, the bedroom they were in now, and the large bathroom beyond. They laid clothing out for me and Raleigh explained, trousers are for knights and soldiers, while robes were for students of schools and for mages, for all who practice the arts.
I saw there was a white robe and black mantle chased in silver with a great hood.
“You fancy me a mage?”
“Are you not?”
I shrugged. “I imagine so,” I said.
“Will you be taking your bath now?”
“I will,” I said, glad of it, “and this disreputable thing grumbling in my bed will do so later.”
“Jamis, have the tub filled,” Raleigh commanded, “and bath salts and towels put to the side. I will send someone in to wash you.”
“That’s quite alright,” I said with such a firmness Raleigh blinked at me.
“Of course,” Raleigh said, clapping his hands.
The big man on his little feet bowed and turned to go, and when the others had done their duty of filling the bath and putting out towels they were gone as well.

MORE ON SUNDAY

 

[CharmedFan28]

That was a great portion with lots going on! I always enjoy learning about the characters past. Excellent writing and I look forward to more soon!

 

[ChrisGibson]

Yes, now we get to see Ohean's princely past. And goodness, how Ohean is linked to so much royalty. There'll be more tomorrow night.

 

[ChrisGibson]

Yes, now we get to see Ohean's princely past. And goodness, how Ohean is linked to so much royalty. There'll be more tomorrow night.

 

[ChrisGibson]

OHEAN CONTINUES THE STORY OF HIS LIFE AT CAIR DARONWY

I vowed to spend the day walking around the palace, but though I went down a few halls I was more or less lost without Raleigh. and from what I saw when I looked out of the windows, the castle was many towers, many buildings, multiple courtyards, a small city. I had spent all my life on the Rootless Isle, and then in wide open spaces. I didn’t know what to do. At last I retreated to my rooms, to looking through books and, at last, to sleep.
It was not Raleigh who came to take us to supper, but a new servant named Rafferny. I would come to know a great deal of him in time, but for now I knew only he was tall and lemon colored and dignified, not much on talking, which was fine as I was not at the moment much on listening.
He led us further than we had gone before. Ralph had eaten when I asked food to be sent to the rooms and I, of course, had dined with Grandfather earlier. But right now, at the stair that had led up to the small hall, we now followed a stair that led down to another floor, and it wound down for some time before coming out into a wide, high but private seeming hall of white stone lit with great swinging brass lanterns and from here we entered into the feasting hall, greater and higher than anything I’d ever seen. It was filled with well appointed Royan, and even I, who had seen the Three Ladies, and the wonders of the Great Forest, was nearly water kneed at the site. I could only wonder what Ralph thought, and when I turned around I said, “Stop gaping and close your mouth.”
We were led to the high table, Ralph beside me, me to the left of my grandfather in his great high backed chair, and on the other side of me Prince Amr, who had surrendered his rightful place, and his son Idris as well as an old, but beautiful, dark skinned woman with hair like twisting silver wires. This was Ermengild, Queen of Chyr, kinswoman to my grandfather and, therefore, to me. These were the days when her heir and daughter had just disappeared and often she was inconsolable with grief.
All of the meal was an unwelcome blur of too much conversation but, I learned, uncommonly sober, because of the deaths of so many men. The long high windows displayed the darkening sky going from deep purple to black, and, in time, quiet, we threaded our way out of the hall, and out of the palace, a long and winding journey and into the hills.
In the shadows we saw mounds and now, as we approached the hills, bearing torches I saw they were biers with the dead. In the center of them was my uncle Geranhir, the kindly man who had died under my care. As I stood beside Ralph, my hood pulled up, and those bearing the torches they tried to preserve against the wind placed them at the bottom of the biers, a tall, fierce woman, grey robed, high breasted with short twiggy hair stepped forward and sang.

“From the very abyss I cry to you,
O Varayan!
O Lord, hear my voice!
Let your ears be attentive
to the voice of my pleas for mercy!
If you, O Varayan, should mark iniquities,
O Lord, who could stand?
But with you there is forgiveness,
that you may be feared.
I wait for the Varayan, my soul waits,
and in his arm I hope!”

As she sang, and some of the people hummed in a low rhythm, as the wind blew on, the low fires at the bottom of the piers blossomed, and all around us great torches to the dead rose up. They burned well into the night, until there was nothing but ashes. Until we waited for them to cool and to sweep the ashes into urns and, our dead consumed, carry their remains back home.






—AND RALPH?
—Yes? What of him?-
—What became of him?
—Why, he lives, and lives very well, I might say.
—But how did you know him?
—I have told you.
—But you are leaving something out.
—I leave much out.
—Do not leave this out.
—After Thano, around Thano, was Ralph.
—The love of your life?
—Do not be jealous.
—I am not being jealous, merely inquiring.
—You are being slightly jealous and I am not going to lie.
—But you have never spoken of him, and I have never seen him?
—Have I seen every man you have loved?

Silence

—He was a love of my life. A love of this long life.


A fuller truth, one we think of once Anson is asleep, one which stays inside of us as the fire in the forest banks and darkness comes….

In the company of the Travelers was a tall Royan named Ralph. He was handsome and dragon eyed and I wondered if he might be the one I had seen in the card spread that said I would be drawn to a dragon. Still, I had spent most of my life alone, and so when I saw that, whenever I sat up late at night, looking up at the stars, rehearsing the songs I had learned in the woods, or practicing my magic, he was coming near, and sitting by me I said, “Friend, Ralph. What can I do for you?”
“Nothing at all,” he smiled at me almost foolishly, foolishly, but like a dragon all the same. “I just like to be around you.”
I nodded my head.
“I have had very little of people being around me in my life,” I said.
“Could you bear it?” he asked.
“Yes,” I said at last. “I think I could.”
The fire crackled, and there was the sound of a log falling. But I could hear nothing else, and we were far from the Travelers, only under the stars. The wind came through the grasses, and I felt Ralph’s hand touch mine. My first instinct was to draw back, but I did not.
We were like that for some time, and had he moved to kiss me I might have moved away in shock, but he was more direct. His hand went between my thighs, softly, gently, and I felt the heat going through me, my sex rising. I was nearly lost.
Then, just like that, I wondered, what shame? What embarrassment? You are in the very dark with no one to see you. And here he is daring what he is daring. Why make it difficult? I stood up for him and I felt him loosen my trousers and pull them down. Though he was taller, I drew him to me up so I could do the same. He smelled of light sweat, of earth and the heat of the day, the heat of his body. We stood together, silent. Without words we lifted each others shirts and stood silent and naked on the grassy plain, until I perceived that he was nervous, but I was not nervous anymore. I was stiff as a board, humming with energy and power, as I had been with Thano, so far off, and so I lay down in the grass and drew Ralph to me.

At last I parted from the Travelers, when they were going north and I toward the sea. I was surprised when Ralph came with me, and he said, “You don’t have the tongue of Rheged and you are not from Sussainy. You do not know this land at all, I do not think, or how to get to Cair Daronwy.”
I did not deny him, He was my dragon, or so I thought. We traveled under the stars and under the high sun through the cities which were growing larger, hanging off of the sea cliffs like dangerous grey acrobats, and beneath us the sea slowly rolled into coves and crashed upon rocks and crumbling cliffs. Sea birds winged and the smell of salt was in the cool air. We could make it to Cair Daronwy before the month was out.
One morning we stayed in a cave, not feeling much like going to the inn and the town below, and I cursed Ralph for not buying a horse and he said, “Could you afford two? And then I simply shrugged. This, he said, was the last day of our journey anyway.
The sky was more and more grey and as we reached the cave, it gave up its rain. In the cave Ralph said, “I will make a fire.”
“How?” I demanded, sneezing and cursing him.
“I am a craftsman,” he said. “Just watch.”
He struggled with the wood in the cave for sometime before I took mercy on the both of it, and said a drying spell over the wood.
“Now,” I said.
He frowned up at me, but in a few minutes the fire was going. I lay an enchantment on it and Ralph said, “We have all our dry clothes?”
“We do,” I nodded.
He began to undress by the light of the fire, his perfect body golden brown, his buttocks the firmest, brownest globes, his breast high and proud, the fire russet on his curls. He smelled of the sweat of the day, and he stepped out into the rain and I knew he wanted me to come. I wanted to come to him. I stripped quickly and came out into the rain, but it was cold to me and Ralph laughed as he spluttered in the blue grey darkness where the water and storm hid us from view. He kissed me then, and his mouth tasted of the cigarettes we had smoked and of lunch, and when I kissed his throat there was still on his skin, the saltiness of the sweat of the day. He brought me into the cave, and I fell to my knees taking him in my mouth. He looked up to the heaven’s, hands open like one rejoicing, and I felt the power of desire running through me. In the end we lay bathed in the warmth of the fire, curled like a two headed serpent pleasuring each other on our clothes pile while the rain poured outside. His mouth opened on me and he cried out, arching, filling my mouth with the slick heat of his coming.
We ate in time, and later that night, he lay down and guided me inside of him, urging me to ride him as I had never done before, losing control, giving a cry louder than his, I felt my body shaking, my teeth rattling, pulled my soul back to me as it seemed to by flying away while over and over again, I shot my seed deep inside of him.
Exhausted we slept.


MORE TOMORROW

 

[CharmedFan28]

That was a great and hot portion! I am very glad you decided to post this story. I always finish it wanting more. Excellent writing and I look forward to more!

 

[ChrisGibson]

I'm glad you say that. That's just what a storyteller wants to hear, that you not only love the story but want more. And blessedly there is more, but that will all have to be for tomorrow and tomorrows to come.

 

[ChrisGibson]

OHEAN

He began to undress by the light of the fire, his perfect body golden brown, his buttocks the firmest, brownest globes, his breast high and proud, the fire russet on his curls. He smelled of the sweat of the day, and he stepped out into the rain and I knew he wanted me to come. I wanted to come to him. I stripped quickly and came out into the rain, but it was cold to me and Ralph laughed as he spluttered in the blue grey darkness where the water and storm hid us from view. He kissed me then, and his mouth tasted of the cigarettes we had smoked and of lunch, and when I kissed his throat there was still on his skin, the saltiness of the sweat of the day. He brought me into the cave, and I fell to my knees taking him in my mouth. He looked up to the heaven’s, hands open like one rejoicing, and I felt the power of desire running through me. In the end we lay bathed in the warmth of the fire, curled like a two headed serpent pleasuring each other on our clothes pile while the rain poured outside. His mouth opened on me and he cried out, arching, filling my mouth with the slick heat of his coming.
We ate in time, and later that night, he lay down and guided me inside of him, urging me to ride him as I had never done before, losing control, giving a cry louder than his, I felt my body shaking, my teeth rattling, pulled my soul back to me as it seemed to by flying away while over and over again, I shot my seed deep inside of him.
Exhausted we slept.




The Royan are far older than the Sendics, the name we give the Ayl and the Hale. Royan was a name we came by only later. Of old they were called the Ossar, the Children of Osse and Innis Ossar was the ancient name of this whole land. The people of Ossar before the Rufanians came were Ossar and even before the Ossar were the Tribes, the First and their kin, the Itzumi and the Chan in the far north.
“In the most ancient of times, to the east and far to the east, past the shores of Solea,” my mother had told me when I was a boy, “into the Inner Sea, and further than that, on the shore of the Ebony Sea which is further than you can imagine right now, but which you may see in time, there was a city called Amar, and it was the capital of great land.”
“Is this a fairy tale?”
“You can take it as one, and many people have, but you would do better to listen.”
So I listened, wrapping my blanket tighter about me.
“There was a mighty race of folk called the Nefil. Some say they were relatives of the people of Amar, but both were might in magic in the morning of the world, and after a long war, the Gods sent a great flood which spoile the world. After that flood was the time of Osse.”
“Osse, the oldest of our fathers, had a vision from Addiwak, and the Goddess commanded him to settle even further west, beyond the Inner Sea, but most of his people would not have it. Five ships though, left with him, and they sailed even further, they sailed to this land. There were already older people living there, and it was from the mixing of the old and the new that the Royan were born.”
“But what of the others left behind, the other Amar, in Eteria.”
“Many years past. They forgot their magic and in time married with the other folk of that land. They married with other races as had we, and in time rose one among their number called Rufus. He had a brother named Romelas and they decided to build a great city, but there was a ridiculous quarrel, and so he killed Romelus and named the city after himself, Rufus.”
“The Rufanians?”
“In time,” Mother said, “they founded that great empire that came even here, and so we are kin to them, of a sort. But the Royan had a long history already. As I have said, some of the Royan married with the Tribes and Travelers of the low lands in what is now Sussainy, the land of the Ayl and of the Hale, but some other wed with the High Folk, the Hidden Folk and became people of magic, and so developed the Da’Shayne and the Ossain, the oldest Royan. In time, from across the sea, from Solahn and from the people who lived in Daumany before the Daumans came more people, and these became the Hayarami and so the three trees of the Royan were born, and among these many other tribes.”
“But what about Rheged?” I said. “Where does Rheged come from?”
“That is another tale. A later one. But—”

My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of distant bells, high up.
“Let us to the great hall,” Ralph shot up with a swiftness that belied his usual languor.
I had a difficult time catching up with him, and now the hall was filling with members of the household. Ralph waited for me, and now my uncle came, followed by Raleigh as the bells continued to toll and a low horn blew from the highest towers.
“The Dayne,” Prince Amr reported. “Their dreadnoughts have been spotted. They’re two days away.”
“Ash wasn’t here last time,” my cousin Idris said. “He is now. Maybe he can help repel them.”
“Or we can get in our own ships and turn them away,” Amr said, touching his sword.
Now the hall was filled with various suggestions of what to do, but I said, “Let them come.”
No one heard me, there were so many ideas, so I, Ralph and my grandfather the King stood silent.
I put up my hand until people began to see it, and some turned to me.
“Let them come,” I repeated.
“What?” It was Ralph who looked at me as if I was mad.
But now I was walking away from them, through the growing crowd, heading back to higher towers. For the first time I felt powerful and in my place since I had come to this castle, and so I shouted back, “Let them come!”






In those days, Ohean came to know the noble, but sorrowful Queen Ermengild. He said to her, one night, “Lady, you have been kind enough not to ask, but I know you know I come from the Blessed Isle and perhaps you wondered if I could tell you anything.”
There was only one thing Ermengild sought new for, far more even than knowledge of the Dayne raiders, and that was of her daughter, long gone, the Princess Jergen.
“Lady, I cannot see her, for she walks too far in darkness. She is beyond my sight, perhaps even beyond the sight of Nimerly and my mother Senaye, who are the highest enchantresses in the land.”
Ermengild bowed her head and kissed my cheek.
“Thank you, Ash,” said she. “It was my greed that sent her away.”
“Lady?”
“You know the tale of the Beryl, how in ancient times, Enkial and Assanad bore the Stone of Alliyah from Assanad’s home, and the Tethys blessed them with it for all time.”
“I learned that tale as a child. It was one of the Three Great Spinnings.”
“It was said the Beryl defended us in the time Times of Darkness, and of old it was kept in Chyr, in the Great Hall of my capital. When I was a girl studying on the Rootless Isle, I thought to find the Beryl. In those days your grandmother was Dame of the Isle. But my father died, and so I became Queen, but my daughter knew I desired the Beryl to be restored, and so she went in search of it, and has never been seen again.”
Ohean had said, without saying it, that the Princess was surely dead, that Ermengild need trouble herself no more with waiting. Perhaps she was beyond my sight, but in those days his power was growing, and he was sure that even then, barely sixteen, had she been in this world, he would have seen her.

In those days, Ohean removed himself to another room in the palace. From the moment that he had commanded all to let the Dayne come, the self confidence, the assurance that was gone had returned. Once Ralph came up to see him and again his uncle came to visit, but no one spoke. He sat on the floor with a bag of stones and bones which he scattered on the ground and rearranged. In the evening he built a fire and and sang to the flames, burning incense over them, and then, two days later, when the food left at the door had been consumed, but none knew when he consumed it, he rose and went up to the highest tower of the castle.
From a distance, when anyone cared to watched, they saw him singing and chanting, saw him open his hands and blow on them and, at last, rising up, he scattered the dust in his hands. Three days in all, and then he came down.
He spoke to no one, not even Ralph, and Ralph when asked said, “This is who he was. This is who he was when I met him, though I did not understand. I thought who I was seeing was who he was.”
That day the sky grew grey, and all that night a wind began to blow onto the coast. Early the next morning, the sky went dark grey and waves like heavy bodies breathed, and rolled to rocks where they broke open. It was that day that Ohean climbed the long stair and stood at the highest tower, looking out
One morning he said, “They will come today. They are coming.”
The old King, shielded by Prince Amr and young Idris went up to the coast along with Ohean as his black cloak blew about him, flapping like a great crow. The clouds rolled like waves, black and blue and grey, and downbelow they saw them.
“Dreadnoughts!” Idris pronounced.
“Come,” Ohean whispered, putting out his hand and becoking to the ships, his hand moving it in gestures of welcoming.
They came, not head first, but on their sides, long ships, three terraced, mighty sailed with cannon and guns hanging from them, metal hulled, and one came side first to the rocks. They watched as Ohean’s hand turned, and the ship followed his will, crashing into the rocks. Before it was hidden in the screaming white squall the next ship crashed forecastle first into it, and the two collided onto the rocks, but not before the third and then the fourth followed them to destruction.
“And another,” Ohean said, and Idris, looking up at him thought he was almost singing.
And then it came, the final dreadnought. It came riding on the head of a great wave, almost as if the boat itself were determined to leap onto the coast. But there were cliffs and rocks to reach first and as Ohean turned his hand over and over calling the ship, with a mighty crash so fierce all on the land went to their knees, the dreadnought crashed onto the rocks.
Ohean, on his knees, called out, “Rise! Rise! Rise!”
And now thunder boomed and Ohean, barely audible over the squall, commanded, “Let us be gone. The storms shall grow worse yet.” Ohean pulled his hood over his face as the cold wind shook them all.
“In the morning when you go out to plunder, there will be none alive in those ships.”

When Ohean knew someone was in the room, he did not open his eyes at first because he was weary. At last he blinked and saw Ralph, blurry and then resolving into his solid form.
Ralph sat down beside him.
“You were amazing,” he said. Then he said, “You will be amazing. Everybody sees that now.”
Ohean smiled weakly and Ralph touched his hand.
“You’ve been with all the soldiers,” Ohean said. “I honestly did not think you would notice.”
“Maybe you think I left you,” Ralph said. “That I found my place and you have not. But I feel like you left me.”
Ohean tried to sit up, but Ralph said, “No. I’m not blaming you. You could not help it. I came with you and you let me. I knew where you were going, and I asked to come and then it was like being brought to a party by a guest who disappeared and yes, I found my way, and yes, I’m going to be Prince Amr’s knight.”
“Wonderful,’ Ohean said, and was surprised by how raspy his voice was.
“And you’re going to go,” Ralph continued. “This is not the place for you. You need to go to the Hidden Tower and learn. You need to become who you were meant to be.”
“Ralph!”
“Enough,” Ralph said, smiling, his dragon eyes winking. He touched Ohean’s lips. “This time let me do the talking. Go, you can never be happy here, and perhaps when you come back, we will be ready for each other. But I brought you something.”
Ohean waited, and Ralph presented him with a sword whose sheath was silver as the blade, winking so brightly, Ohean shielded his eyes.
“You were wrong, lover,” Ralph said. “About none being left alive. There were a few. I found it on one of the dreadnoughts held by one of our own, a Royan mage, would you believe it? Some of us are in league with the raiders, it seems. I killed him, Ash, and maybe that was unfair, for he was not himself after the storm, and I vowed that since he was a false wizard, I would bring this sword to you, who are a true one.”
“It’s…” Ohean looked over it, dragons chasing up and down the blade, twisting into the shining hilt. Ohean looked on the words, the strange ancient runes of the white men. But he had studied their runes a little and could just make them out.
ᛁ᛫ᛒᛖᛚᛟᛜ᛫ᛏᛟ᛫ᛋᛖᚡᚨᚱᛞ

And so he read: “Ic pro lengan st ælan Sevard.”
Ohean translated: “I belong to Sevard.”
“Who is he, I wonder?” Ralph said.
And Ohean said, “I wonder too. Perhaps a great king of those white men. But come, let me belt you with this, for you will be the knight, and I need no sword.”
And Ohean stood up and Ralph said, “As you have given it to me, so it is yours to claim if ever you need it again.”
“I will remember that,” Ohean said, almost dismissively, but now he belted the sword about Ralph murmuring:
“Go in strength, possess all gates that are yours. May splendor reign upon you and may you return in peace. May your enemies know no rest, and your foes fall before you.”
“A spell, friend?”
“From my lips, yes,” Ohean said. “But also a prayer. It is the prayer on all that I love, the prayer that is always on them, and now it is on on you.”
“Does it come from the Rootless Isle?”
“Yes, and many other places too. It is in the Book of the Blessed.”


TOMORROW WE CONTINUE WITH: THE BLOOD

 

[CharmedFan28]

Great to get back to this story and I am still really enjoying it!

 

[ChrisGibson]

Well, it's good to see you back, and it will be good to be posting more it when we're back down to only posting two stories and not a cycle of three.

 

[ChrisGibson]

THE OLD FOREST




Thano had departed from them days ago, heading west instead of north.
“You needed another magician, and you had one,” Thano said to his cousin. “Now that you are safely to the Rheged border, I will return to the Wyvilo lands. We will meet again on the Rootless Isle.”
Thano embraced Ohean and then Anson. He mounted his horse, shifted his bag over his shoulder, and departed. Watching him leave, Myrne had the strange feeling that something was about to happen, that they were in a sort of preparation and that, when it happened, they must all be together again.
This feeling of anticipation turned to agitation in the end. Myrne was not able to sleep that night, and a little irritated that Imogen did. All she could think of was how much she had felt in charge of her life until now, how she had thought she was able to travel all alone and how she had learned she could fight scarcely at all. The Princess of Westrial was snoring lightly, and Myrne got up and wrapped her cloak about herself, moving through the fallen leaves as quietly as possible to find Wolf. By the remnants of the fire, she saw Ohean talking with Anson. Part of her wished to listen to their words, but she was distracted from this, looking over Wolf, asleep on the ground, his knees drawn to his chest while he made a pillow of his arms.
“Wolf!” she whispered, leaning down. “Wolf!”
“Wha…” he began, and pushing his face into his hands he snored sharply.
“Wake up!” she hissed, almost offended, hitting him in the shoulder.
“What?”
This time he looked up at her sleepily, almost but not quite offended.
“Wake up, damn you.”
Wolf shook himself and sat up, his red hair sticking up. It was red gold in the remnants of the firelight she noticed, as was the prickly hair growing on his face and in the cleft of his chin.
“Teach me to fight.”
“What in the world?” he shook himself, sounding awake for the first time.
“Teach me to fight!” Myrne said. “I saw what you did out there.”
“I’m sleeping, Myrne.”
“Fuck your sleep!” she hissed.
She reached into his belt and pulled out his sword and the sound rang in the clearing.
“Teach me!” she commanded, walking off into the forest.
“Damn you!” he swore, but not entirely with anger. He pushed himself up on his hands and sprang after her, taking up his second best sword.

In the clearing, where swords clashed, Ohean looked away from the fire and from Anson, Michael and Polly.
“Young love,” he murmured, watching Myrne and Wolf in the night.
“Do you think they know?” Polly murmured sitting back on her hands against the tree.
“Not yet,” Ohean said, “though I have a mind to tell them. It might save a lot of trouble in the end.”
“I wonder if she knows how goodlooking he is,” Polly said, and when Michael looked at her, she said, “It’s no need to pretend you’re jealous, and there are goodlooking men all around. But he looks like a red headed version of you,” she said to Anson.
“My lady,” Anson gave a crooked smile, “are you flattering me?”
“I never flatter,” Polly said with her own smile.
“Enough of them,” Michael said, “More of this sword you spoke of.”
“Legend says the Sword of Sevard was left in this wood, was planted in a great tree.”
“I never heard the tale until recently,” Ohean said, as if to dismiss it, but Michael said, “I have.”
When Ohean looked at him, Michael said, “Friend Ohean, you are Royan through and through, but I am a man of Inglad. We know the tale. We even know the tree. A great tree in the center of the wood.”
“But where is the tree?” Anson’s eyes opened wider.
“It is the Council Oak,” Polly spoke this time.
When they looked on her in surprise, Polly continued, One of the children of the forest people and had been plaiting her hair into a crown of berries, and now she kissed the girl on the cheek and, her hand in the girl’s hair, said, “Now for the truth. Now for the reason I came to know Michael.”
“She was searching for that sword,” Michael said.
“And all I ever found was a deep wound in a tree where that sword had been placed.”
“Then…” Anson said. “It is gone.”
“Gone if it was ever there,” Ohean said, and Polly said, “But it was there. And now it has been moved.”
“By whom I wonder,” Anson sat back against a tree, wrapping his arms about his knees while the swords of Myrne and Wolf clashed.
“Damn!” Wolf cried.
“By a mage,” Ohean said.
Now they looked at him.
“If what you say of the sword is true, it was ensorcelled. No mere marauder could have stolen it or, for the most part, even seen it.”
When Michael looked at Polly, Ohean said, “You underestimate my cousin. She is a true mage, and she would have known it. A Royan mage drew this sword, and I even know where he took it. He took in into Rheged.”
“How can you…?” Anson said.
“It is in Rheged,” Ohean said with certainty. “It is in Rheged, and it is yours. All the more reason to reach that land as soon as possible.”
As the smored fire crackled, and dark grey light came from a far, Anson said, “You’re not going to tell me how you know, are you?”
“Not at the moment,” Ohean said, rising, wrapping his cloak about him. “Try not to annoy, and let me sleep.”


MORE TOMORROW

 

[CharmedFan28]

Great to come back to this story after a few days! A lot going on in the old forest and I look forward to reading more about these goings on tomorrow! Excellent writing!

 

[ChrisGibson]

For one, I look forward to them leaving the Old Forest. And now that we're only doing two stories the movement will be quicker. There's a lot going on in the world outside of this forest, and it's time for our friends to get back to it.

 

[ChrisGibson]

OUR FRIENDS SET OFF ON THEIR WAY, AND WE RETURN TO POL AND AUSTIN, WHO HAVE BEEN QUIETLY IGNORED FOR SOME TIME


NORTHERN BORDER COUNTRY



It had been days since they had departed from Michael Flynn, Polly and their Wild Men. Tonight, Myrne dreamed of bedbugs. She was under that old cover she’d had when her bed had gotten them, and when she woke red welts were on her. As she stretched she saw bloody marks on her body and as she lifted up her gown quickly, she saw all her body was dark red, slick with blood. She moved to pull off the robe


and woke in the darkness of the hut where they stayed on the edge of the forest. It was cool and a breeze shook the half open window as early autumn air came through. As she arose from the pallet beside Imogen, she saw Wolf, standing by the window, the moon shining on his hair.
“I had a dream,” he said in that quiet voice that was no whisper, but did not wake Imogen.
“I dreamed too.”
“I must go to Essail,” Wolf said. “Ambridge, I think. I will ask Master to look more clearly in the bones when morning comes, but time is of the essence.”
“We are nearly in Reghed.”
“And not far from Ambridge either,” Wolf said. “No, I must go.’
“Why?”
“I just told you,” Wolf said, not quite impatiently, “I don’t know. I only know I have to go. And that there will be great bloodshed if I do not.”
“I dreamed of blood as well,” Myrne said. “I thought… It was something different though.”
Wolf nodded, but said nothing.
“It would be nice if the gods were more generous with their warnings,” Myrne said.
Wolf nodded, looking more distracted than anything and said, “But that is what the bones are for.”

“And I had the terrible dreams all night,” Wolf said.
“Even after we spoke?”
“Aye.”
“But I saw no expression of it on your face,” Myrne said while they ate the next morning.
“You watched while I slept?” Wolf looked pleased, but Ohean said, “If that’s the only thing you can take away from last night, then you deserve your horrible sleeping.”
Wolf looked at Ohean, but still seemed to be thinking of Myrne. He shook his head.
“I dreamed…. I dreamed I was covered in blood.”
“I dreamed of no such thing,” Ohean said when Wolf looked to him.
“Nor I,” Anson said.
Wolf thinks he should go east, toward Ambridge,” Myrne said.
A look past between Wolf and Ohean. Anson thought of asking what it meant, but Ohean only nodded.
“I am thinking I should go with him,” Myrne said.
“We were going to Rheged,” Imogen protested said.
“And you still can,” said Wolf. “But I think we must go north and east.
“After all,” Myrne said, “I would never have fallen into your company if not because I was head that way anyhow.”
They were quiet a while and then Imogen said, “If no one says it, then let me. You and Myrne ought not be parted.”
Ohean nodded and Anson said, “Maybe the same way we must go to Rheged, you must accompany Myrne. If she is right.”
“Will you cast the bones?” Myrne asked Ohean.
Ohean nodded.
“Fetch me the bones.”
He had traced a circle in the dirt, and though Wolf had seen Ohean do this before, he had never asked about how it was done. He saw scratching, with a wand he had cut from a tree, circles, scratching them out, casting stones and bones, gathering them up and casting them again, setting them and resetting them until, suddenly, his eyes wide, he stopped.
“Saint Clew,” he said. “Saint Clew. In Durham. A day south of Ambridge.”
“My sister’s monastery,” Anson said.
“Hilda,” Ohean began, gathering up the pebbles and the bones.
“If you are leaving, you must do so at once. Hilda is in danger. Do not ask what it is. Beyond this I cannot say. You must be with her when she becomes Abbess of Saint Clew.”


“BUT I SHOULD BE the one to go to her,” Anson insisted, his hand grasping his sword at his side. He looked to Imogen. “We should go to her.”
“And what would you do?” Ohean said. “You do not even know the sort of danger she is in.”
“Do you?” Anson looked at Ohean.
“The dream was not given to me,” Ohean spread out his hands, “I know nothing, and think Myrne knows little. This I do know, Anson. We have our path and Wolf and Myrne have theirs. They are not alone.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means exactly what I said. They are not alone, and not without guidance. And this is Wolf’s hour. It must be. Will you trust me?”
“Need you ask?” Anson said.
Ohean nodded curtly. “Let us go out and bid them goodbye.”
Ohean added, pulling up his hood, “I was going to say help them back, but Pol and Austin did that already while I we were talking.”
Outside by the horses, Wolf turned to Ohean and he said, “We have never been parted. Not really.’
“What makes you think we are being parted now. Really?”
“I think things are on their way to change,” Wolf said.
Ohean did not look at him right away and then he said, “I believe they will. But do not do anything foolish. Do not do anything too rash too soon.”
Wolf looked, though he was taller, chastened, and like the servant who had grown up in Ohean’s house. When he spoke, however, it was not with the words of a servant.
“I will do as I must.”
“Fair enough.”
“Will you send me off with your blessing, Master.”
Ohean reached up to place his hands in Wolf’s spiky hair.
“Go in strength, possess all gates that are yours. May splendor reign upon you and may you return in peace. May your enemies know no rest, and your foes fall before you.”
Ohean put down his hands and added, “I do not think you will ever call me Master again.”
“I am a little bit afraid,” Wolf said. “What do you think of that?”
“Only a fool never knows fear. You will return to me one day,” Ohean said, “But I believe you will return greatly changed.”
“You look after that Wolf,” Anson said, almost growling as he embraced Myrne.
“I told him to look after you,” Imogen told her friend. “I wish I was coming, but Ohean won’t hear of it.”
“And neither will I,” Anson frowned at this sister. “You’re on the run from Cedd as much as I am.”
Imogen quickly kissed Wolf and then Myrne, insisting, “Give Hilda our love.”
“And spit in Edmund’s face,” Anson said, “If you see him.”
“I’ll do more than spit in Edmund’s face if I see him,” Wolf called as he brought the horses to them.
Wolf embraced Anson quickly, and the two men clung fiercely for a time before parting, and then Wolf vaulted onto a black horse, and then lifted Myrne up before him. Slowly they began to ride away, down the hill, winding down the valley, north of the great forest, following the River Urden, and Anson, Ohean and Imogen saw their shadows stretching long before them, over the valley where the sparkling Urden ceased its glinting as evening came.




NORTHERN BORDER COUNTRY




In no way did Austin remind Pol of his first love. His first lover had been golden, a boy named Sandro Gutierrez from Solahn. He had been friends with his brother Kirk, and like Kirk, a hustler, a punk. But he had done it lightly and occasionally, or so Sandro had said, and Kirk had blessed the relationship..
Then, one day, Sandro had said he was leaving. No, Pol could not come. No, he had not cheated on Pol. And Pol could have stood that. He would have been able to live with is, But Sandro said he simply did not want to be with Pol anymore and that there were parts of him which Pol could never understand.
So one night, perhaps to spite Sandro, to show Sandro that he could go to those deep places, he had gone to the place his brother had worked. It was not hard for him to pick up a man, but it was hard to find one he did not mind having sex with. He had gone home with a man about forty-five, steel haired, single and a little bit sad. When the man had asked how much, Pol rattled off a price he’d heard his brother say once, and then, in a stark apartment, he’d let the man put his head between his legs, run his hands up and down him, and pinch his nipples. He tried to fuck him unsuccessfully, and after an hour of fumbling, Pol had kissed him on the nose, trying to be sensual, and left.
Leaving through the East Quarter, Pol had felt strange. It hadn’t felt like sex at all, and there were things he had done that he did not want to do. He tried to understand his feelings and realized he couldn’t name them, but why try? As the sky thundered overhead, Pol put his hand into his pocket and felt more money than he’d ever had.



TONIGHT THE MUSICIANS PLAY. Pol sings a little song from those first days.

Amsada astamadayan antamare
Indiho garvan tihushanan dani
Osrofan ostrofan nata
Tadami
Amsada astamadayan damare

It was a song his mother sang. She was from the old country, that oldest part of Westrial where they still sang in Royan and their blood was Royan. He only remembered her voice. She had died when he was very young, and Kirk had brought him down south to the city.
Under the shadow of the Plaidy Hills that lay like the breasts of a middle aged woman on her back, they sit by the fire. As the sky darkens the power of the fire increases and Anson says, “We are only a day away. Only a day from the Rheged border.”
But tonight they have come to village of Aksum, and it is like no other village they’ve entered. Since they’ve crossed the river, everyone here is dark, darker than Ohean’s caramel coloring, and Ohean tells the story.
“Longer than you can count, when there was one king in Ynkurando and the Ayl were seeking refuge, the King granted Eoga and his brothers right to enter the land and bring with them their people, and so they did, Eoga settling West in what would be Wester Ayl, and his brothers settling in what would be East Ayl or Essail. Their sister, the line of Inglad would come from, and later the Sussail would come from their own. But this land was ever the land of the old ones, the old kings, the oldest Royan. Here the Royan are as dark as they are in Chyr, and many old things here have survived.”
They are by a tree and by the tree have been left coins, for the musicians are coming, and tonight they will play the music that will heal all brokenness of soul. Pol jokes, as he tosses three gold coins into the pile of copper, “I could use some healing for my soul.” But it is not really a joke, no, not for anyone.
And now the men are coming, some caramel, some golden butter colored, one old man as dark as the earth, a face full of wrinkles, men with turbans twisted about their heads, and now from the stones houses, come the brown skinned Royan, and there are some folk here white as Austin, or ivory colored like golden like Pol and Anson, and now the musicians draw out their long pipes, their drums, their shawms, and begin to play.
The music is gentle and sweet and then, beneath it the drums race like heartbeats, and shawns drone in and out like buzzing bees. The music rises, and though the drummers do not rise from where they sit, cross legged under the tree, the people rise. As the sun goes under the hills, the people rise, and Pol unburdens himself of his great coat, and then even of his waterY silkened shirt and, swaying, enters the slow dance.

MUCH MORE TOMORROW

 

[CharmedFan28]

That was a great portion! It was good to get back to Austin and Pol and learn some of Pol’s history. So much going on but I am still enjoying it quite a lot! Excellent writing and I look forward to more tomorrow!

 

[ChrisGibson]

I felt the same, that it was good to get back to them, and maybe in future versions I will have to insert parts of them just to remind us all that they're still around.

 

[ChrisGibson]

TONIGHT WE LEARN MORE OF AUSTIN'S PAST, AND WE MEET ULFIN, THE DANGEROUS HEAD OF THE BALDWIN FAMILY AND FATHER IN LAW TO THE WICKED KING EDMUND OF ENGLAD


THIS IS THE CONFINED LAND. This is a land of hills and valleys, but tonight the hills and the moist air and the chill of the approaching winter remind Austin of the stark and, arid land of Zahem,
Erik Skabelund, of the soft firm lips, the skin that turns red in the sun and the white blond hair has brought him, at last, into the city of Nauvo and its center is the Great Temple. He does not remember anything else about the city but that high walled six towered temple unlike any cathedral he had ever seen and certainly unlike it on the inside. Skabelund himself had guided Austin to it.
It was like a honeycomb, and this made sense, for the sign of Zahem was the Honey Bee. The beehive was emblazoned in stone all along the temple walls. There was no one great nave, but a series of rooms, and through those rooms Skabelund led him. In those rooms they passed through mystery after mystery, sworn to secrecy, and in between each mystery, he was bathed. Skabelund undressed him and washed him. It was on the very last washing that Skabelund saw his penis, firm and standing up and Austin’s face went red, but Skabeland said, “You needn’t worry about it. It is a natural thing. That is a type of energy, and today you should be filled with much energy.”
And so he came from the temple purified, and it was Skabelund who led him to the school where he would learn to be a proper Zahem for the next four years.

As the dancers spun about, Anson looked up to see Pol was rising now, down to snug trews, his robes and shirt cast off, sweat trickling down his chest and in his damp hair. He moved up and down in jerking motions to the rhythm of the music, and Pol’s face was like one in ecstasy, mouth open, eyes unfocused, feet and shoulders seeming to move of their own accord. Austin remembered their time in the forest, when they had begun to make love in that wagon and then felt the approach of someone else, entering for water or for towels perhaps, only to see Thano, handsome, the plains of his face his, his eyes dark with desire. He hadn’t needed to speak, this cousin of Lord Ohean, the one they knew without knowing had once been his lover. Quickly he undressed, eagerly they had made room for him. All those days until the day he had left them, he came to them after dark and the three of them had exulted in each other.
“As the music plays,” Ohean said to Anson, “the spirits of the hills come out to heal the people, and to protect the land, to accept the energy offered and be one with those who offer it.”
“The Spirits?” Anson said.
“You would call them elves.”
Ohean shrugged and said, “In fact, I would as well.”
“Are they real?” Anson said.
As the music swirled around them, the shawms more and more ecstatic, almost screaming, the drumbeats fiercer, Ohean said, “Need you ask?”
Now the spirits called to him as well, far wilder than he had ever known them, and Anson’s legs seemed to rise without his permission. Now his feet were tapping out the ancient steps of the dance.

“Can I tell you something?” Skabelund had said, “Something that the people in the east don’t know?”
By people in the east, Austin assumed Skabelund meant Westrial, meant even the Royan. The Zahem always had secrets nobody else knew.
“Tell me.”
“Long ago, before our ancestors crossed the sea, before even the empire. Long long ago, there was a great war in this land between light and dark. Men came from. The Kokaubeam, the stars, for they were the star people, and they met with the Nephilim, those are the Strong, and they built two great Cities of Light. Their allies were of another race, an old race, but in time, they went wrong. Some of them at least, and a war broke out, those who belonged to the Light against those who belonged to the darkness. In that war one of the great cities of light fell, though there are some who say it was both. Zahem always said that God wanted us to find the city of light, or what was left of it. That was why he went to Chyr even before Westrial, because that’s where he said it was, in the southern country, in the oldest part of Chyr. And they don’t even know it….”

Skabeland had said a lot, or rather he had told Austin much of what he had been told, that people lived in the sun, that God had been a human being just like him and that one day he would be himself God and start the whole process over again, that the hills were filled with an ancient people older than men, that looked out at them with winking eyes and transformed into wolves. Being away from Zahem had allowed Austin to forget much of it, but as he watched villagers dancing in the night, and Pol and Anson, now stripped to their tight underpants, sweat running down their torsoes, heads flailing, the memory of that old legend returned to him. Here, in this land, the cities of light had stood. Here, in this land, there would be great war.
As Austin turned to the fire, he saw, he thought, a form approaching. It was only a shadow, a very tall man, taller, really, than the dimensions of a man, and now it stretched forth its hand toward the fire, but in that moment Austin saw it was merely shadow, no true hand, and so it disappeared.
He shook himself and, in shaking, saw Ohean looking at him.
“You did not fancy it,” Ohean said.
“What was it? Austin asked.
Ohean answered: “A friend.”



ULFIN



Caymax House was not the ancestral home of the Baldwin’s, but, Ulfin reflected, as long as he was in it, it meant the Baldwins were the most powerful family in the norther kingdoms. Today, as he looked over the busy city streets, though, Ulfin Baldwin thought of the castle in North Hale, Summer’s Rest.
There was no castle less aptly name than Summer’s Rest. Indeed, Summer’s End would have been a more apt name. With black stone walls so long they covered the entire slope of two great hills, and so high they could have protected a city, its grim towers looked over the rolling hills of North Hale.
From Gofrem Tower, Ulfin Baldwin could always see the northern vale as it fell into the Lake Country. When he moved to the west in that tower room, he could see the Giants, the mountainous spine of the whole island, snow capped blue peaks rising from the trees that attempted to crawl up its sides. To the east was the grey sea, and the great Bite of Waymouth.
Today, Ulfin looked to the courtyard and could see Allyn, tall and fair haired, proud and magnificent. If only he could turn him into a lord. It was not by battle and blood, not by heart and pride that Ulfin had come to his great power, but by guile and cunning, the willingness to look small and the ability to wait.
Three months ago, Ulfin had left this place that had been home to the Baldwins for three centuries to return to Ambridge and the great house of Caymax. Caymax House was as large or nearly as the great palace, and while Edmund was gone, it served the people well to know who their true lord was, to see the Stag Banner of Edmund lowered—for the King was not in residence, and to see flying high the Three Eagles of House Baldwin.
It was in waiting that Ulfin had come to this power and wished to pass it to his son. When he was Allyn’s age, or younger, he had served Edward Ironside, Edward the Wise they called him, last of the House of Wulfstan and the great kings of Hale, though he did not know it. If he had known, perhaps he would have bowed the knee when Sweyn’s and Svig’s armies came from across the sea in Dayne. Edward had assumed they would be like the other Dayne leaders before whom the Hale, rallied together, had beaten back.
From Summer’s Rest, the Baldwin family had watched it all, but when Svig came, young and powerful, quick to join his Hale cousins to his northern empire, this had changed everything. He had made quick and murderous work of the North Hales, and then come into Hale and done the same. After killing King Edward, and intending to kill his children, he had married his widow and gotten three children on her. Sendic children, he had claimed, despite the fact that Emma was no Sendic, three children for each of the Hale kingdoms.
But until those children could come to age, they needed powerful lords to rule the land for them, Svig’s young son Sweyn would not do it, for he was a conqueror, and not much in the way of a ruler. He was a true corsair. He came to Inglad to see his queen only now and again, but preferred the rough women of the north.
There had been no lord with less, and therefore with more of a will to succeed and little loyalty to the House of Wulfstan, than Ulfin Baldwin. Baldwin had risen quickly, chiefly because he was quickest to serve the new kings, and it wasn’t that the Sweyn trusted him, though Baldwin thought he did, but that he knew Ulfin was willing to do anything to maintain the good graces of his new king. Baldwin knew, for sure, that the Queen distrusted him, but then everyone else distrusted her. Hadn’t she stood by and let her husband die? Hadn’t she allowed her children to be killed or to flee? Hadn’t she turned around and married their murderer and born him children. Some said she was only trying to survive, but Emma was a Dauman princess, and could have easily gone back home. Some, who pointed out she was the granddaughter of a Dauman king, were sure she was the pawn the Daumans were using to secure a foothold in Sussainy, and if this was true, they said, then the Queen was to be pitied. To Baldwin it made her more suspicious still, for it meant that one who had no right to Hale would sit on the throne. He kept secret even from his own thoughts the idea that a day would come when he might have to kill her along with the new children of this marriage.
But while those children grew, as Earl of North Hale, and later Earl of the West, Ulfin’s power grew. As Sweyn’s Empire expanded, so did the authority of his earls, and fifteen years into the king’s reign—or usurpation—Ulfin ruled as his suzerain over Inglad, Hale and North Hale.
The death of so hearty a king as Sweyn came as a surprise, and set into orbit much squabbling about his empire. His young children, the oldest was sixteen, were not only heirs to Inglad, but heirs to the Northland and Dayne far across the sea. When Sweyn had been sixteen he had been a warrior. Not so his sons. The Kings of the South came together to talk of divvying the remnants of the North now that Sweyn was gone, cousins of Sweyn prepared for war, but it was not long before Daumany and Edmund arrived from across the sea.
Many, including Ulfin, wondered if Emma had planned this all along. As northern longships of the hated Dayne came south, The Dauman troops came into an uneasy alliance with the Kingdoms of the South, the Ayl lands. It was true that long ago all of them had been one people, that centuries ago the Daumans had been Dayne, but the Sendics were civilized after a thousand years, and far removed from raiding corsairs, and the Dauman, putting aside those ways, seemed a sort of kindred race. Better to have them back the new king in the North than another war with heathen raiders.
And so Edmund had come to the Triple Throne. Various pretenders and would be pretenders from House Wulfstan and Thanwulfstan had been unceremoniously put down. Ulfin was only too happy to help. They could never have had their kingdoms back. The march of history was about strong people becoming weak until they lost what they had to the mighty remaining, lost everything, including their lives.


MORE TOMORROW

 

[CharmedFan28]

Great to read some more of Austin’s history. Ulfin seems like he is going to be interesting to say the least. Great writing and I look forward to more tomorrow!

 

[ChrisGibson]

Ulfin's family is about to prove very important.