The book of the burning

[ChrisGibson]

And it came to pass that when Mahonry had said these words, behold, Elladyl, who is Lady of the Heavens, stretched forth her hand and touched the stones one by one with her finger. And Mahonry seeing the finger of the Lady; fell down before Her, for he was struck with fear.

- The Book of the Burning






“It’s not Turnthistle Farm,” Mehta said, “but it will have to do.”
“My dear Metha,” Yarrow told her, “we will find our way back to Turnthistle Farm soon enough, but for now, for our safety, this is where we must be.”
“What in the world is it?” Theone wondered as they continued down the long hall, occasionally splashed with grey light from high above.
“The Passes,” Ohean said. “Chyr is the oldest off the Royan kingdoms, though I suppose Locress would be just as old. Before the Zahem were here, this land was part of Solahn, but before even the Solahni, this was Royan. It was never conquered. We simply stopped living here, but we did not stop building here.”
“Part of Royan architecture is the building of tunnels,” Yarrow said, “mazes and mazes of tunnels, ways connecting to each other so that the person who knows of them can get from place to place in almost magical fashion.”
Orem smiled at this. He saw the book under Yarrow’s arm.
“I thought you had come to us by magic,” he said.
“Oh, there was magic in it to be sure,” she said, “and the Ways, the Passes, have a heavy enchantment upon them. They cannot be detected once built, and like all ancient architectural magic, it was built by the wizards of the White Tower. The original ways, built before the Temple, have been built to incorporate the Temple. There is a Way that goes right into it, that leads into the true Temple.”
“True Temple?”Austin said.
“Yes, Lord Buwa. For the Temple you know, which you may have even entered, is built over the real treasure and the real structure, and it is that place we will enter when we have reviewed the maps.”
Austin frowned to himself. He was quiet for a long time and then he asked:
“Is there a Pass that goes under the Lion House?”


When Rendan woke the next morning, he murmured, “I have a bad feeling about this day.”
He swung his legs out of the bed, and reached for the large blue dressing gown, wrapping it around himself.
“What time is it?”
“It is well near past midmorning,” said Ethan.
Rendan looked at the red headed man and said, “And you’ve been up since dawn?”
“Yes.”
Rendan shrugged and said, “I can’t see much point in that.” He stretched and yawned.
“I need the restroom. And then breakfast. Or perhaps the restroom, and then coffee, and then breakfast.”
As Rendan trundled across the large room and went behind the thick blue curtain, Ethan said, “You’re right though about this day. I’ve got a strange feeling myself.”
When Rendan had finished with the restroom they went out to the high walled little courtyard under his window and he said, “From here the city isn’t such a bad place.”
“You can’t see any of the city,” Ethan said.
“Exactly.”
Ethan shook his head and, laughing, said, “I’m the one who should despise this city.”
“This city is a canker on my family. On this country.” Then Rendan, taking a draft from his coffee, added, “Well, not this city. We’ve done all we can to cover it up. Rename it, make it beautiful. But still. That—” he pointed in the direction of the Temple, “is a blight on us.
“Or is it there?” he pointed in another direction. He shrugged with mug in hand.
“Hells, I can’t tell.”
Ethan pointed directly ahead. “It’s there,” he said. Then, “What’s that?”
Both men sat up straighter.
Out of the trees came a tall, bronze skinned and bronze haired man with a sword in fine scabbard hanging at his side, a long slate blue cloak was hanging from his shoulders.
He looks like a hero! Rendan thought.
He had steady green eyes, and he handed Prince Rendan a letter.
“When you see the High Priest Phineas, please give him this. Incidentally, you may read it if you wish. It is short.”
Anson saluted them and then, before either of the men could call to him, he disappeared into the trees.
Rendan looked after him and then shrugged.
Ethan unfolded the letter and it read.

There were seven stars
But one went black
Two of them are coming back
To take from him the star he took
The last line rhymes not
It’s okay
With me is also Cylthenfay
-- O

From the bushes, Yarrow gripped Anson’s wrist as they watched the two princes read the letter, and then she smiled and murmured, “The hunter has become the hunted.”
Then she pulled him away.


That evening, Dahlan heard Sariah’s footsteps coming toward their council room.
“And you know it is her,” Aimee marveled. “Now that is love.”
Erek Skabelund was looking out of the window, his arms folded behind his back, face rigid.
“I know,” was all Elder Allman said. For their beloved Temple, was quickly becoming something else, smoke rising from its center.
But when Sariah entered, a blond servant girl and a thin boned boy with a spade came as well.
“What in the world?” Allman demanded. “This is your Prophet. Show some respect.”
Dahlan shook his head.
“None of it matters. I may be the last Prophet, and it seems I am going just like the First.”
“Dahlan,” Sariah said, “I need you to be quiet and listen.”
As she spoke, she moved to shut the door, and as she did, the blond garden girl who had come with her suddenly rose up, melted away and transformed into a black haired, chocolate skinned woman.
“Witchcraft!” Allman fell back against Skabelund, making the sign against evil while all in the room stared at Yarrow.
But just then, the boy beside Yarrow transformed into Austin Buwa, and the eyes of Skabelund and Allman went from one to the other.
“Is this what you learned in the land of the witches?” Elder Allman began.
“Be silent,” Yarrow said, simply, and such a silence, such a calm set upon them that Austin knew she had enchanted them.
“We do not have time for this,” Yarrow continued. “If you would live, gather what is essential to you. Gather your loved ones who are still here, and come with me.”



The tall, slender man’s black robe was blowing about him. His hands were behind his back and he stood on a rampart. The sky was deep blue and a white crescent moon hung heavy in the sky. There was the long, low sound of a trumpet. Beyond him were the spires of the Temple, and the grey white smoke rising up, into the night.

This scene passed and there was a wide, long hall. On either side, spaced broadly, were the little lights of torches. The floor must have been obsidian because insofar as it could be seen, it reflected back the light. The darkness of the room could not be seen. A black swayed. He felt himself coming nearer, and he knew that before he had come to it willingly. Now he pulled back and something—not a hand—but something, pushed him forward until he moved back from it, jecked against it, feeling the curtain, and it was like hands, not fabric, fingers brushing his cheek, reaching out to pull him in, and then he shot up out of bed.

A crack of light as the door opened, and Kenneth looked up.
“Are you all right?” Arvad came forward with the lamp.
“Was I… did you hear me?”
“What’s going on?” Dissenbark’s voice could be heard down the hall.
“You screamed,” Arvad said.
“It was just a dream.”
Dissenbark appeared in the door frame with Aunt Birch, and Kenneth repeated: “It was just a dream. “I’m fine now.”
Dissenbark nodded and, not wishing to impose, lifted her skirts, said, “Sleep well, now. Kenneth. You are safe here,” and then disappeared.
“I could make you something,” Aunt Birch offered.
“No Birch, go to bed,” Kenneth said. “I will be fine.”
She looked if she did not believe it, but Aunt Birch nodded, and turned to go.
Arvad said, “Are you sure you’re alright? You’re sweating. You look terrible.”
“I was… I think it was about the past,” Kenneth said. “My past.”
“That you can’t remember?”
“I think I’m remembering bits of it,” Kenneth said.
Arvad thought a minute, and then said, “Would you like me to stay for a while? I could just sit here if you like?”
“Yes,” Kenneth discovered, “I would like that a great deal.”
Arvad nodded, and then pulled a chair out beside the bed and sat down.

TOMORROW: WORKS AND DAYS

 

[CharmedFan28]

That was a great portion! I don’t know what is going to happen but I am enjoying the journey. Feeling pretty tired so I don’t have much else to say other then excellent writing and I look forward to Works and Days tomorrow!

 

[ChrisGibson]

On the parapet of the palace, overlooking the Temple, Phineas went back and forth with the note clenched in his fist. That night he had arrived at the Takarand Palace and was surprised to receive a letter from the hand of Prince Rendan.
“It came from a…” Rendan decided on the most vague description he could, “young man. He handed it to us in the garden and said to give it to you.”
Over the music, Rendan added, “He said we could look at it too, if we pleased.”
Rendan watched the sorcerer, waiting for some expression. Rendan smiled, sharply, turned, around and left.
Phineas, hiding the letter in his robes, decided against opening it there. He waited until the dinner was over, until everyone had been seen out of the palace, and then went to his chambers to read the missive.
So they were here…. So Cythenfay joined him. So they were all around him. Even, at last, the Hero. So, it was certainly them and not someone like a Prince Ethan. They were here to do what Ethan had come to do. They were here to take the Stone.
He had poured out so much of himself over this long, high, great building with the smoky incense rising up from its crown. He clenched his fist without knowing it, until the note was crumpled, and then he turned around and decended into the tower room.
There he beat a brass cymbal, and a moment later three of his priests were before him.
“Prepare the sacrifice. Prepare the Blue Fire.”
At each decree a man left and just now Urzad arrived.
“Cut the Circles. Raise the Stones, Begin the Chants.”
“Tonight, we prepare to defend the Temple,” Phineas said. “Tonight we lift up the Stone.”



The Temple was surrounded by three concentric circular walls, and as one entered each wall was higher than the one before. One came through a great gate and then walked a pace before finding the next gate, and then walked for a while to the left before entering the last and greatest gate where a fire blazed before the steps into the great Temple door. The Gates opened in the day, though few entered, but tonight it was open as well. Since Phineas had come and the banners were put up, all the gates had been open. Beyond the Gate was the great Hall of the Curtain, and beyond this was where only the Initiates went. Below this were the Binding Rooms, a twisting labyrinth of stone rooms descending deeper and deeper where the Rituals were performed and, right here, in the midst of this descending tunnel now, a stone in the wall began to shift, and then another one and then another one and the stones fell out, leaving a black, gaping opening.
Stepping delicately over the stones in battered dungarees and an old tunic came Ohean, and next Anson, then Theone, and lastly, bewildered and brushing her skirts, Mehta.
“So this is it?” Mehta murmured. “We are under the dragon’s lair.”
“Should we put the stones back?” Theone asked Ohean.
But Anson shook his head. “It is the way we will escape.”
“I was thinking it was also the way we could be followed.”
“She has a point,” Ohean said. “But we can’t think about being caught. Right now we have to find the Stone. Which is at the bottom of this chamber. So let’s go.”
The passage was nearly dark. Now and again white torches shone, enough to make the place barely visible. Ohean walked before them, and the lights became increasingly scarce until Theone murmured, “We are in darkness.”
“Hold me up?” Anson heard a woman’s voice.
“Theone?”
“I said nothing,” her voice came back in the dark.
“Hold me up,” the woman said again.
“Am I mad?” Anson demanded.
“If you’re talking to yourself, then yes,” Mehta answered.
But, in the dark, Ohean said, “He is not talking to himself.”
“Hold me up,” the voice said again.
Who are you?
Who do you think I am?
I think…. You are my sword…. Talking to me.
Then hold me up, fool!
Not daring to think much about it, Anson pulled his scabbarded sword from the back of him and now a golden light spread out, and Anson was holding Callasyl aloft at the stone at the tip of its pommel glowing.
“Did you know it could do this?” Anson turned to Ohean.
“Glow?” Ohean asked. “Or talk?”
“The latter,” Anson said, as they went on, “but the talking part…”
“I suspected,” was all Ohean said.
I am Callasyl. I am the sword forged from the moon and from the tooth of the dragon. I am the dragon’s scale.
Is there anything else you wish you wish to say?
Silence.
After a while the voice of the sword thrummed in his mind.
I am not a woman inside of a sword. I am sword. Swords really do not have much to say, and it would be unbearable if I did. I am a living sword and should you call upon my advice I will lend it. In the moment of my need I will offer it.
“Would that most people could be so convenient,” Anson murmured.
I have many questions, he said, looking to the walls, and not just for you. He stared at Ohean’s back. But not right now. For now they had work to do.


Rendan had followed Ethan to the parapet, and they watched as one by one, the spired towers of the Temple came to brilliant light, and then floodlights shone over its surface, and torches in the Circle burned high. Now the Durgenhorn sounded, and Ethan squeezed the crenel of the parapet and then slammed it.
“I’ve got to go. I’ve to go there,” he insisted, turning and running across the roof.
“Now you want to escape?” Rendan said.
“Well, now it doesn’t matter if I stay.”
“In that case,” Rendan decided. “I want to come with you.”
Ethan looked at him incredulously. He had opened his mouth to object, and then simply said:
“Well, all right. Let’s go. Get what you need and Gods curse us, let’s go.”
They raced down the steps and back into Rendan’s apartments. Ethan took out two sacks and Rendan, with more efficiency than one would have given him credit for, rolled up shirts and pants and underthings and began snatching up food.
“I don’t suppose there’s time to go to the kitchen?”
“We might, I suppose,” Ethan considered.
What they needed they gathered, and Ethan set about turning out the lights while Rendan opened the door and gasped.
“Rendan,” Ethan said. “Rendan, what—?”
Ethan’s voice died as he saw Rendan had been greeted by several men in black, faces hidden, Black Stars sealed on their wrist and at the head of them was Urzad who murmured: “Princes, we’re so glad you packed. It makes things easier. So,” a small sharp blade was at Ethan’s throat. “Please be so kind as to come with us. Now.”




What she began to feel was crushed. It had been a long trip through the underground passes coming here, but Theone had never felt oppressed. Surely, for some time, they had been threading under the Temple grounds, and it had not mattered to her. But ever since they’d emerged onto the twisting corkscrew down into the earth, the only thing she had thought was how good it would be to get out.
“Tell yourself good things,” she said. “Tell yourself how this is what you have waited for. Tell yourself how soon you will see Ethan.”
And then she thought, But will I see Ethan? How will he know what has happened. And she thought how now she wondered how she could have ever gotten in here without Ohean, without Yarrow, without Anson’s light. In some ways without them all. And she was thinking of Orem, back at their hold, who could not come.
She wanted to ask how long they had been traveling, not that it mattered. But it seemed there was no end to the long, long walking. and then she wondered if they would ever have the strength to get out.
“I bet,” Anson said, looking to either side of the wide, gold lit hall, “in another circumstance this could be an interesting place.”
“It’s interesting enough as it is,” Mehta said, pulling her cloak tighter about her.
“Why did I want to come with you?”
Ohean looked back at her and smiled.
“Because you are an extraordinary woman, Mehta.”
“I’m just a housemaid,” she said.
“And I was a scullery boy,” Ohean said, “and I kept the chickens on the Rootless Isle. Does that make me less extraordinary?”
And then they stopped.
“This is it?” Theone stepped forward.
The ground was flat, and there was a long, high black doorway before them. Anson asked the light of Callasyl to dull, and Ohean began walking forward. He passed through the door first, and then, as they came through, the light increased and Theone, putting her hand to her mouth looked down.
They stood on a dais, and the steps from there made a long descent into the beginning of a great, writhing stone maze, and in the center of this, they saw a white light in the blackness.
“The Stone,” said Anson.

MORE NEXT WEEK

 

[CharmedFan28]

Well things are going ok so far for this group of friends. I am really enjoying this story and I look forward to in a few days! I hope you have a nice weekend!

 

[ChrisGibson]

Yes, our friends are more or less fine for the moment, and out of harm's way. But who knows what they'll meet as they go deeper and deeper?

 

[ChrisGibson]

What she began to feel was crushed. It had been a long trip through the underground passes coming here, but Theone had never felt oppressed. Surely, for some time, they had been threading under the Temple grounds, and it had not mattered to her. But ever since they’d emerged onto the twisting corkscrew down into the earth, the only thing she had thought was how good it would be to get out.
“Tell yourself good things,” she said. “Tell yourself how this is what you have waited for. Tell yourself how soon you will see Ethan.”
And then she thought, But will I see Ethan? How will he know what has happened. And she thought how now she wondered how she could have ever gotten in here without Ohean, without Yarrow, without Anson’s light. In some ways without them all. And she was thinking of Orem, back at their hold, who could not come.
She wanted to ask how long they had been traveling, not that it mattered. But it seemed there was no end to the long, long walking. and then she wondered if they would ever have the strength to get out.
“I bet,” Anson said, looking to either side of the wide, gold lit hall, “in another circumstance this could be an interesting place.”
“It’s interesting enough as it is,” Mehta said, pulling her cloak tighter about her.
“Why did I want to come with you?”
Ohean looked back at her and smiled.
“Because you are an extraordinary woman, Mehta.”
“I’m just a housemaid,” she said.
“And I was a scullery boy,” Ohean said, “and I kept the chickens on the Rootless Isle. Does that make me less extraordinary?”
And then they stopped.
“This is it?” Theone stepped forward.
The ground was flat, and there was a long, high black doorway before them. Anson asked the light of Callasyl to dull, and Ohean began walking forward. He passed through the door first, and then, as they came through, the light increased and Theone, putting her hand to her mouth looked down.
They stood on a dais, and the steps from there made a long descent into the beginning of a great, writhing stone maze, and in the center of this, they saw a white light in the blackness.
“The Stone,” said Anson.


The entry into the labyrinth was a small roofless room with a path to the left and to the right, leading into darkness, and Anson let the light dim, saying, “My arm is just a little bit tired.”
“Well, then let it rest for a while,” Ohean placed a hand on his shoulder. “Just a moment. Just one more moment with that light.”
Anson nodded, looking at Ohean and as the light glowed back they saw, traced on the wall, the circular pattern of the labyrinth, and at its center was the pattern of a long key.
“It would be beautiful,” Mehta said, “if we were only here for the sights.”
“This is a bad business,” Theone murmured as they stepped into the maze.
“If we have made it this far,” Anson said, sounding more cheerful than he felt, “there is no reason we can’t complete this.”
And just then there came through the earth above them a sound, long and low, and they all stopped, and Theone trembled a little and touched Mehta.
“That is Durgenhorn,” Ohean spoke. “It is another reason we should complete this as soon as possible.”
“It means we’ve been caught,” Theone told Mehta. “It means they know we’re here.”
“But where to go, where to go?” Mehta was murmuring, and Ohean’s hand was in his shirt, feeling the heavy cord that held the long key always hanging about his neck.
“Ohean,” Anson murmured.
Anson was walking forward, and he put his key to the larger key print in the wall.
“What’s he doing?” Mehta whispered to Theone.
She shrugged and said, “I don’t think even he knows. But he knows he has to do it.”
“He is doing,” Anson said, almost impatiently, “exactly I thought he should be doing when I saw that key pattern.”
Gently Ohean touched Anson’s cheek while still moving the key about, and gently Anson touched the hand.
Once again, high above, filling the whole dark place, came the sound of the Durgenhorn, and at that, there was also a click.
And then past them, to the right, they saw a light.
Ohean moved away from the labyrthinh, and toward the light, which was a torch in the passage to the right.
“I think I’ve done it, friends,” he said. “Anson, douse your light for good now.”
Anson obeyed and followed him. Then Theone and Mehta.
All down this path were little burning torches, and they disappeared down another hall.
“Is this magic?” Mehta wondered, looking at the little flickering golden flame in the wall sconce beside her.
“Yes,” Ohean said. “Magic and the gift of the Gods. This place had been waiting for us all this time. It called to me.”
“And I bet if we follow these lights,” Anson said, already disappearing down the hall, “they will take us straight to the Stones”
All of them were already halfway down the hall when Mehta said, “How do we know, though?”
Theone looked back at her, for the first time, smiling, and said, “We know by following.”



As they traveled the corridors of the labyrinth, the light grew brighter and Theone murmured, “Who knew?”
“She is here,” Ohean murmured.
“Who is here?” Pol whispered to Austin.
“The Goddess,” Mehta answered. “The Mother of All.”
Ohean declared, “She is here, helping us. Even down here, where they thought to remove the Stone from Her and the people to whom she gave it, She is here.”
They traveled through the turning paths with lighter hearts now, and now and again there were black paths that shot off into other directions.
“And now I should turn around,” Ohean said.
“What?” said Anson.
Theone, walking ahead of them said, heard and said, “Whaddo you mean you should turn around?”
“They are upon us,” Ohean said. “Phineas knows where the Stone is, and he is on his way. The gates have been opened, and he is already coming down the passes. The way we entered is not a way by which we can return. How do you expect us to get out?”
“What are you going to do?” Mehta demanded.
“Truthfully?” Ohean said. “I don’t know.”
“I’m coming with you,” Theone declared.
“That, you are not,” Ohean said, already going down the hall, back to the entrance of the labyrinth, followed by Anson.
“Ohean!” Theone’s voice rang off the wall.
“Get the Stone!” Anson shouted, and they were gone.
“Great,” Mehta murmured. “We’re at the bottom of the earth without Ohean or Anson.”
And then Theone began to laugh.
Mehta looked at her.
“Theone,” she said, turning from the empty path down which Ohean had disappeared.
“Let’s go,” she said, heading down the lit path.
Through the walls, over them, under them, the Durgenhorn filled them.
“Let’s go,” she repeated. “It’s the only thing we can do.”


The moment they were carried over the steps and through the Temple doors, Rendan tightened his body because he felt his bowels melt. No matter what he said about this place, he had hoped never to enter it. And it was already night, and what had happened to his father? How had these men entered the palace? Only now, as he and Ethan were pulled through the darkness of the great hall, did he wonder what would happen to him.
And it was a great hall. Black as it was, Rendan could tell this. Originally he struggled manfully until he saw that Ethan wasn’t actually making much of a struggle at all, and he still managed to look dignified. Then Rendan calmed himself and looked toward his friend, but Ethan could not see him. Now Rendan could hardly see anyone in this space of scarcely lit darkness.
“Not through the Curtain,” voices murmured. “Not through the Curtain.”
And the voice that was Urzad’s murmured something, and then another one said, “There must be another way.”
But suddenly Phineas’s voice barked out: “Bring them through the Curtain!”
With an instinctive dread, Rendan dug his heels into the floor and was hit in the back of the neck, at the base of his head for his troubles. Pain flooded his skull, and the Hand who had hit him growled, “Through the Curtain with you.”
And then they were being dragged across the large stone flags of the temple floor, and Durgenhorn was shaking the Temple, and just then there was a great splitting, and then, for one small second, Rendan saw everything, saw the great height of this temple, saw, intricate paintings of a strong jawed king and soldiers marching up and down a mountain, a knife to a throat, and blood pouring down, roiling like rivers, and then there was a great, high, open curtain, hanging higher than city walls, all shot with silver and encrusted with jewels like stars. Then it was gone, and they were in darkness and Rendan, still dazed, blinking at purple stars, was pulled through the black Curtain.


MORE TOMORROW

 

[CharmedFan28]

That was a great portion! Action packed and it had me in suspense. Excellent writing and I look forward to more tomorrow!

 

[ChrisGibson]

I'm glad you enjoyed it. Thanks for reading.

 

[ChrisGibson]

The moment they were carried over the steps and through the Temple doors, Rendan tightened his body because he felt his bowels melt. No matter what he said about this place, he had hoped never to enter it. And it was already night, and what had happened to his father? How had these men entered the palace? Only now, as he and Ethan were pulled through the darkness of the great hall, did he wonder what would happen to him.
And it was a great hall. Black as it was, Rendan could tell this. Originally he struggled manfully until he saw that Ethan wasn’t actually making much of a struggle at all, and he still managed to look dignified. Then Rendan calmed himself and looked toward his friend, but Ethan could not see him. Now Rendan could hardly see anyone in this space of scarcely lit darkness.
“Not through the Curtain,” voices murmured. “Not through the Curtain.”
And the voice that was Urzad’s murmured something, and then another one said, “There must be another way.”
But suddenly Phineas’s voice barked out: “Bring them through the Curtain!”
With an instinctive dread, Rendan dug his heels into the floor and was hit in the back of the neck, at the base of his head for his troubles. Pain flooded his skull, and the Hand who had hit him growled, “Through the Curtain with you.”
And then they were being dragged across the large stone flags of the temple floor, and Durgenhorn was shaking the Temple, and just then there was a great splitting, and then, for one small second, Rendan saw everything, saw the great height of this temple, saw, intricate paintings of a strong jawed king and soldiers marching up and down a mountain, a knife to a throat, and blood pouring down, roiling like rivers, and then there was a great, high, open curtain, hanging higher than city walls, all shot with silver and encrusted with jewels like stars. Then it was gone, and they were in darkness and Rendan, still dazed, blinking at purple stars, was pulled through the black Curtain.




“The Dreams are terrible,” Kenneth said.
Dissenbark had gotten up and made tea. They all sat in the kitchen with only the light of a single lamp for their company and she said, “It’s like you can’t stop screaming.”
Shaking her head she added, “I’ve never known anything like that bad.”
“This time I dreamed long enough to come through the Curtain.
“When I had to come through, there was a sign I had to make to the one who brought me through. He was all in black. He whispered something to me. I couldn’t remember. And then he took off all my clothes.”
Arvad lowed his eyes and turned away, not understanding his discomfort, but Aunt Birch nodded, seriously.
“And here, it gets worse. It gets stranger. This is why I…” He put his fingers to his eyes, “couldn’t take it.
“There was a woman. Like my mother. She had pretty gold hair like my mother. And… they stripped her. She was terrified. She hadn’t expected it. And then the man who had me… He killed her. There was so much blood, and I remember this horn. The horn was just playing on and on. Dull, roaring, and they must have put the blood in a cup. Or… in a something. Because they were spilling it all over me. It was so hot, and so sticky. And the smell… And I kept thinking it was mine. I just felt like I was blood, nothing but blood. So much of it, and I… I could hear her die.
“And as she died the man who had me was telling me. ‘Now thou hast been born out of blood.’ He… rinsed me. The water was hot, but I could not get that smell off of me. And… something was dead in me then. I felt so dead.”
Kenneth stopped talking.
“That’s not in the dream,” he said. “That’s me remembering. Now I can remember. How I felt. Dead. And I couldn’t get rid of the smell. And… he was saying, ‘Now you have no name.’ And that’s when I lost my memory. The first time. And became whatever I was before Birch and Yarrow found me.”
The whole time Kenneth spoke, Dissenbark was looking at his right wrist and now she said.
“Kenneth, I think that what you were, before Yarrow found you… was a Black Star. A Hand.”



“Well, well, well,” Phineas murmured. “Urzad, love. You, Corajan. Uzul. Leave Prince Ethan in the loving care of the Guard. He is for later. It is you I want,” Phineas fixed his eyes on Rendan.
As they dragged Rendan up the small steps, the prince tried to regain his bearing. They slammed him down on a cold table of worn black rock, and he blinked a little as the roar of the Durgenhorn went up again. This room was lit, and it was empty. Three stone walls and the curtain ahead of him. He’d thought something important would be here.
And then he understood. As he was being tied to the table he realized there was something important here. This was no table. This was an altar. He was a sacrifice.
He chuckled a little, blinking as Phineas drew from his dark robes a shining, crescent shaped knife. Phineas was chatting in a low conversational voice.
“Sacrifice has fallen out of favor. Especially in the southern lands where they think they know so much, are so sophisticated. They talk of the sacrifice of your life, or of love. Hum…. Or, take here, now and again the occasional cow, or chicken. I’ve even heard at the Temple of Banthra a tiger was offered up, which makes no sense seeing as Bantha is a tiger himself. I find that most confusing.”
As he spoke, the knife had disappeared, but the whole time there was the scrape, scrape, scratch of Phineas sharpening the blade and now, so heavy it made Rendan cough, came the old familiar incense. Every time he’d heard the horn and smelled the incense, had they been killing people?
“But no,” Phineas continued. “No, no. Of old it was known. It has always been known, that the true sacrifice, the one of effect is blood, and royal blood at that.”
Ethan screamed, and Rendan heard the scream end as quickly as it had started. Rendan felt pleasantly calm, and unwilling to make a show of himself. He was tightly bound to the altar. He knew that now, he was testing his bonds.
“My Temple has fallen on hard times,” Phineas explained. “There are those who would take from it the precious gift placed in the hands of the Lord who rules this House.”
The long blade came out. It was lain across Rendan’s throat, and it was needle sharp.
Phineas shook his head.
“I can’t let that happen. Even now there are men on their way down to find the traitors, but there is one more magic which will make sure they never leave, and that this stone never leaves, and it is your blood, your highness, and I will spill it,” Rendan felt the first cut on his neck.
“I will spill it,” the sorcerer said. “Right now.”
But, like so many villains in so many stories, he had talked too long, in love with his infamy, and as he raised the knife, a voice, sharp and unwilling to be disobeyed, shouted:
“Do not touch the lad!”


The chamber where they stayed was lit red. Everything was red lit, and Orem never understood exactly where they were, but he had spent all day pouring over the maps of the Temple and the Underpasses, and he had been going through the books of lore Yarrow had brought with her.
Up and down one end of the room, the Elder called Allman paced, hands behind his back, and Orem wished they’d left him behind. The one called Skabelund sat, quiet enough, knees clasped, hands clasped, staring ahead of him. This young boy, though, this Prophet of theirs, Orem could get used to. He and his little girlfriend and his mother had been going over the maps, speaking back and forth to each other about what they might do, what would not work, what seemed plainly foolish.
Yarrow was sitting on a bed across the room, and though the enchantress had said nothing, Orem suspected there was something she wanted from him.
And then he put his hand to his mouth, shook it and turned his head again.
“What?” Yarrow said, sitting up.
“I’m not sure,” Orem told her. “Let me… let me check. Aimee, may I see the atlas.”
She nodded and handed the large book of maps to Orem. Turning back a few pages, he frowned then, at last, lifted his head again and rising, demanded. “Where’s my coat? Where’s my sword?”
“Swords!” Dahlan leapt up as if he were preparing to fight but, nonplussed, Sariah pulled him back down.
“Orem?” Yarrow said, gathering up her own cloak.
“We gotta go after them,” he said, heading out of the door as Yarrow found his coat. “We’ve got to get them. Right now!”



Mehta gave a little shout, catching at Theone’s cloak.
They had reached the end of the pathway, and by the dim glow of the last light, Jon, behind them both, could see a great shape, a sleeping shape, and he pushed through them.
“We have to,” Jon Dell said. “It’s why we’re here.”
But the shape did not move and now Jon Dell wished he had his master’s power, to call light out of darkness, but all he could do was reach and touch.
“It is stone,” Jon said. “It isn’t real.”
He went further into the darkness and he felt cold, rough rock, carved into patterns of fur, carved into a thigh, carved into a great torso, he felt all around it. a recumbant body, and now he felt up it.
“I’ll get a light from out there,” Metha’s voice sounded. It was close and muffled, so Jon knew they were in a restricted space.
He had already felt around the body and there again, above them, through them, came the Durgenhorn.
The room was filled with a quiet warm light, and then Mehta was handing it to him, saying, “I didn’t know if it would come off the wall it or not. But it came so simply.
“I feel like two things are fighting in this place,” Theone murmured. “The Lady whose stone this is, and the one to whom it has been given.” She had taken the torch from Jon, and by it she saw a long figure, with the body of a man, but no man, larger than a man, and she and Jon climbed up, almost waiting for it to come alive.
Over him they stared. The face had a mane like a lion’s and the nose was a lion’s, but the horns were those of a bull, and as Theone stared into it, the Durgenhorn blew again and shook her to her center.
“The Stone,” Jon murmured.
Theone looked down. In his hands, clutched tightly, was a black stone, and Theone said, “It can’t be it. That can’t be it.”
“But nothing else can be,” Jon Dell told her, and he put his hand on the cold rock, preparing to move it.
“It’s fast,” he said, shaking it again. “It’s fast.”
And then, just then, Theone knelt across the large stone chest and said, “Release. Or I will break those fingers.”
And like that, like flower petals, the granite hands opened, and Theone took the stone.
At once it began to be warm in her hands. She gasped from surprise, but not pain. She opened her hands, and there was a faint blue light, and then it was growing clearer and clearer, and now Mehta gasped as her torch went out and then the Stone was brighter still, white now and as they gasped at the wonder they felt the horn again. Mehta climbed up onto the belly of Mozhudak to join them.
This time the horn did not stop, the shaking did not stop, and then Jon Dell, whose face was blue white went completely white and he said: “It’s not the horn… It’s not the horn.”


MORE IN A FEW DAYS

 

[CharmedFan28]

That was a really great portion! I love being immersed in this intricate world you have created. Excellent writing and I look forward to reading what happens next in a few days!

 

[ChrisGibson]

Well, that makes me glad because, of course, the world was made to be immersed in, and for so long, I didn't think anybody would be.

 

[ChrisGibson]

Phineas looked up into the darkness, but even as he did, he pulled his hand back and shouted.
For a moment, the the blade went fluid. It was a serpent, and leapt up and then disappeared in flames, hot sparks falling on Rendan’s face.

I’m not in the ground
I’m not in the sea.

Above, in the darkness a voice echoed eerily.

“I’m not of the fire
though fire you see
look now and tell
if you know me

Rendan heard shouting and then turned, but forgot his restraints. He could only turn his head and where the men had stood, binding Ethan, now the prince was free and they were ringing their hands.
Phineas shouted.
“Owen!”
“Yes,” the voice was peaceful. Almost amused.
Phineas stretched out his long hand, and began making a sign, but the voice said, “No, no. I wouldn’t do that.”
Now Rendan saw two men coming down the long stair at the end of the hall. Many of the Hands rushed toward him, but smiling, Ohean threw up his hand and a wall of fire roared up at the bottom of the stairs.
“Come back,” Phineas said in irritation.
The men obeyed and the men continued coming down the steps, unperturbed.
“You have brought the Hero with you,” Phineas said.
“The Hero,” Anson said, “prefers to be called Anson.”
Anson pulled out Callasyl, and as he made a cutting motion, Rendan felt his hands free.
“Nice,” Ohean looked at him in admiration.
Anson smiled out of the corner of his mouth.
“But you,” Ohean turned back to Phineas, “you’ve changed your name completely. Not completely, only the last three letters, but those letters were important ones, Phinlyn.”
“Speak that name again,” Phineas’s voice sounded sharp, “and there will be words between us.”
Rendan, feeling his bonds gone, dared to roll away. Phineas was not paying attention to him anymore.
“Yes, forgetting that name is best. That’s a corpse that won’t be resurrected. Say, I am here to take the princes back. Let them come with me.”
Phineas shrugged.
“Go,” he said to Rendan.
Ethan was already near Ohean, and Rendan was approaching him. He was a compact man a little shorter than himself, dark like the southerners with an unreadable face and Phineas said, “All the time you’re wasting here, all the time you’re talking to me, Owen, showing off as you were ever want to do… I have been weaving a new spell. Did you think to rescue the princes before you went to take the Stone? Did you think when you returned to Chyr they would hail you as Owen the Great again, and you would regale them with tales of how you had taken the Stone and saved a prince? Did you think—”
And just then there was a sharp crack and then the floor began to shake.
By the look on Phineas’s face, Rendan and Ethan could tell he had not expected this.
The ground underneath them was shaking, and shortly after, there was a great snap and a burst and a cloud of dust fell over the altar.
And Ohean said, his voice lower, “No. I did not think that at all.
“I thought to trust others to do that job while I would protect them, and—”
A great rip went through the floor of the temple, and there was screaming, shouting, an explosion. One of the incense tripods fell over and fire flared up.
“They have succeeded. This…” Ohean said, “and this is the wrath of Mozhudak. He is awake. His Stone is gone. It has been taken. He is angry. I suggest you go, Phineas.”
Phineas’s face was impossibly white and his mouth was open.
It was Anson who repeated: “I suggest you go, Phineas. I suggest you run. Right now—”
And then Anson cast Callasyl at the wall and it blew a hole in it. The sword leapt back into Anson’s hand and, deftly, he put it away. All around them the floor was rippling like water and Hands and priest falling beneath it as Anson pulled Rendan to the wall and Ohean, Ethan. As the ground beneath them gave way with a groan, Ohean and Anson pulled the two princes through.


“Well, now see I didn’t know,” Orem explained in the red lit, stone parlor where they all were, stretched out, dirty, tired, Orem a little bit bloody.
“Cylthenfay, whom I reckon we should now call Lhan, brought the books with her the first time she came to save us by taking us into the Passes. One of them made a reference to the Wrath of Mozhudak. I forgot it but read it again. And then, of course,” he said, looking at Theone, “I just remembered the way we lived. The way I lived. There was always a price to be paid. So I knew I had to find you. I knew something was going to happen. Did I know the whole place would collapse? No. But I knew I had to do something.”
There were still tremors and trembles, and Skabelund looked back every once in a while, biting his lip.
Yarrow placed a hand on his shoulder.
“Do you think the two of us would not have ringed this place ourselves about with spells? And Ohean, surely was doing something to protect you or else, how would Orem have found the deepest pass and been able to bring you out through it.”
“You helped,” Orem said, and Yarrow looked at him with a fey smile and said, “I know.”
Just then, through a wide opening, after the great sound of creaking and rumbling, came four, dusty and rumpled figures. Jon recognized the one iin the middle and ran to him shouting, “Master.”
He caught him by the shoulders.
But Theone, who was pleased enough, put her hand to her mouth looking at the another one of those just come through the wall, and said, “It can’t be true. It cannot be so.”
“Theone,” Ethan greeted her. He wanted to say more, but instead sat down half collapsed, and Mehta, ever the capable servant, got up to find him water.
“This is Prince Ethan,” Ohean gestured wearily to him, “Recently in the hands of Phineas and this, is Prince Rendan, heir to the Solahni Throne.”
Rendan made a bow, but he was so weary he fell across Theone and she helped him to a chair.
“My father will reward you all greatly,” he said.
Jon was more holding up than holding onto Ohean and the Stone twinkled in his hands, between his fingers. He had been overjoyed but now he looked up at the concern in Ohean’s face.”
“My prince,” Ohean said. “I did not know what would happen when the Jewel was taken, but when the place began to fall, well, I knew that my friends were well. I knew that. And by that same art I know there was treachery in your house.”
Rendan looked at Ohean.
“In Chyr, the Queen Ermengild is dying, and the only heir, or so they believe, is one girl, Tealora.
“That is my uncle’s new wife.”
“Yes,” Ohean said. “I had other matters further north. I did not know Phineas was behind this marriage, though I should have suspected. When I saw you, bound in the Temple, I knew even more. Bellamy plans to do what the Solahni kings have not done in a thousand years. Rule over Chyr and Daumany, all of these lands, with the Stone in his crown and Phineas at his side. He will not have the stone, not now. But he has already made compact with Phineas. That was why the sorcerer brought your father to the city. That is how he got into the palace. I am afraid Bellamy is king. That… is the sound of the new horn you have been hearing. Proclaiming your uncle Bellamy King of Solahn.”
“He has stolen two lands,” Dahlan murmured, “in one day.”
They were all silent for a long while, and all that could be heard was the distant crumbling of the temple grounds, and the horn from the Takarand Palace proclaiming Bellamy King.
Then Rendan said:
“So my father is dead.”
Ohean turned his head.
“What….” Rendan began, “does this mean?”
It was Ethan who spoke now.
He said: “It means you are King.”

WHEN WE RETURN IN A FEW DAYS, WE WILL SEE HOW THINGS ARE ELSEWHERE IN THE KINGDOMS

 

[CharmedFan28]

Great to get back to this story! It certainly is moving at full speed now more then ever. The revelations over who is king now are well done and very interesting. Excellent writing and I look forward to seeing how things are elsewhere in the kingdoms in a few days!

 

[ChrisGibson]

THE WEEKEND PORTION. TIME TO SEE WHAT'S GOING ON IN HALE


Right now your heart is filled with sorrow and you can scarcely breathe for the pain because, though you had heard that all good came with great sacrifice, and that if you would be light then you must burn, until this moment you never knew how great was the pain of fire.

- Viviane Tryvanwy



HERREBORO





When Cuthbert rose, Wolf rose and Myrne rose. Now, all the assembly began to rise as the choir, the one thing the priests had brought that remained, sang:

Whether standing or walking,
seated or lying down
Free from drowsiness,
One should sustain this recollection.
This is said to be the sublime abiding.
By not holding to fixed views,
The pure-hearted one, having clarity of vision,
Being freed from all sense desires,
Is not born again into this world.

And then, without the aid of a book, as would have been used in the Great Cathedral in Ambridge, the Abbot Cuthbert began to speak to the young man and to the young woman before him.
“Will you solemnly promise and swear to govern the peoples of the Kingdom of Hale according to their respective laws and customs?”
Wolf looked down at Myrne, who smiled up at him, and then turning to face Cuthbert, they replied: “I solemnly promise so to do.”
“ Will you to your power cause Law and Justice, in Mercy, to be executed in all your judgments?”
“We will.”
“Will you to the utmost of your power maintain the Laws of the Hale and the Royan, respecting the gods and customs of all?”
Wolf recalled that, in Westrial, at Cedd’s coronation, this bit had been much longer and about the Communion and preferecing it above all religions. He assumed that, had he been crowned in Ambridge, the rite would have been much the same, but there there was no mention or religion at all. He imagined that Myrne would have noticed this as well. But she has begun speaking but for him, and now he joined her.
“All this,” the said, “We promise to do.”
Myrne cleared her throat, for there was more, and she led Wolf in saying: “The things which we have here before promised, we will perform, and keep. So help us, O Lord.”
And so Cuthbert anointed their heads, their chests and palms, and now Ralph came forward and Cuthbert removed the veil from the pillow he bore and on it, identical, were two golden tiaras, glinting in the low afternoon abbey light. As they were placed on the altar, Ralph raised them and sang out:
“Behold, in the east, Osric, your undoubted King. Behold in the west, Myrne, your undoubted King. Behold in the north, Osric, your undoubted King. Behold in the south,” he called holding the golden crowns aloft, “Myrne, your undoubted Queen. Behold, Hale, Myrne and Osric, your undoubted Queen and undisputed King.”
“My people, I here present unto you Osric and Myrne, your undoubted rulers. Wherefore all you who are come this day to do your homage and service, are you willing to do the same?”
And all in that great abbey cried aloud: “Aye!” as Ralph handed on crown to Cuthbert, and he placed it on King Osric’s head, and as the weight of the cold descended on his head and his skull was encircled by kingship, Osric Wulfstan passed out of this world.

He was in the rough hills, stone covered in deep green moss and strong grasses, on the border between Hale and Rheged. Watercourses shot out and as if from an arrow and the falls tumbled down with the roar of giants. Water splashed his face.

“Sindri,” Ash said as Wolf blinked, looking about to see what were, plainly, dwarves working in a great smithy, “this is the boy Osric, Eoga’s son, and this is Sir Ralph Curakin, my old friend.”
“Then I’m sure I’m pleased,” the dwarf called Sindri said in a voice that said he had no time to take his eye from his work.
Ralph handed Ash the bag and Ash said, “I have brought these to you that they might be restored and… enchanted.”
Sindri lifted up a glowing sword and then plunged into water that bubbled and hissed and he came forward on his squat legs to open the bag. Wolf gasped at the same time as the dwarf.
“Are these the Wulfstan crowns?”
“What’s left of them,” Ash said.
Sindri lifted a dinted half circle and said, “This was the work of Svig?”
“Yes, his word about the reign of the King and Queen of the Three Kingdoms.”
“It will be easy enough to reforge. But surely not for that bastard Edmund.”
“What do the Dwarves know of Edmund?” Ralph began.
Sindri looked up at the tall knight, his eyes glinting.
“Enough, warrior,” Sindri said.
“It is not for him,” Ash said. “It is for the grandson of Edward Ironside who will in time be King, who is born of a half Royan woman.”
“Ah,” Sindri nodded. “I see. The ancient crowns of Locress were bound in enchantment, but never those in the north. You want crowns that bound the lord and the lady to the land.”
“And the land to the lord and lady.”
Ash nodded.
“Why not you?” he said to Ash.
“I am no smith,” Ash said, “and Hale is not my land.”

Now he veered from this, out of the past, into the present, with the flight of an eagle, shot out as from a bow he raced to Saint Clew, found himself passing it, at another abbey, stood before a woman and a man. Though he had never seen them he knew the woman to be Hermudis Queen of Sussail, and the man was Rufus of Daumany.

“Sindri,” Ash said as Wolf blinked, looking about to see what were, plainly, dwarves working in a great smithy, “this is the boy Osric, Eoga’s son, and this is Sir Ralph Curakin, my old friend.”
“Then I’m sure I’m pleased,” the dwarf called Sindri said in a voice that said he had no time to take his eye from his work.
Ralph handed Ash the bag and Ash said, “I have brought these to you that they might be restored and… enchanted.”
Sindri lifted up a glowing sword and then plunged into water that bubbled and hissed and he came forward on his squat legs to open the bag. Wolf gasped at the same time as the dwarf.
“Are these the Wulfstan crowns?”
“What’s left of them,” Ash said.
Sindri lifted a dinted half circle and said, “This was the work of Svig?”
“Yes, his word about the reign of the King and Queen of the Three Kingdoms.”
“It will be easy enough to reforge. But surely not for that bastard Edmund.”
“What do the Dwarves know of Edmund?” Ralph began.
Sindri looked up at the tall knight, his eyes glinting.
“Enough, warrior,” Sindri said.
“It is not for him,” Ash said. “It is for the grandson of Edward Ironside who will in time be King, who is born of a half Royan woman.”
“Ah,” Sindri nodded. “I see. The ancient crowns of Locress were bound in enchantment, but never those in the north. You want crowns that bound the lord and the lady to the land.”
“And the land to the lord and lady.”
Ash nodded.
“Why not you?” he said to Ash.
“I am no smith,” Ash said, “and Hale is not my land.”

He moved now to a white castle, the very Castle Whitestone, and fair haired women were running down the stairs to the great hall, that Queen Edith, looking terrified, and that awful Allyn Baldwin, beated and bloodied.

“My husband? The King is safe?”
“Lady no. Your brother.”
“Praise God!” the Queen clasped her hands and then reached for her heavy black beads, and they left her rooms, and then set down the corridors to the great hall.
“Cousin Edith!” Lingelde was crying. “Cousin, he’s found.”
“He’s found!” Ardith crief, pushing her hair out of her face as the fair haired women, on either side of her brother, supported her brother covered in soot, with one black eye and a bruise on his cheek. His clothes were ripped and his armor gone
“Brother,” she pulled Allyn to her, weeping.

As blackness went past Wolf, he was carried up the stairs and now he saw Queen Edith sitting across from her brother. Some time had passed.


“Well,” Edith said, running long finger around the pewter mouth of her wine cup, “You certainly did lay it on a bit thick, didn’t you?”
“Had to make it convincing, sister.”
“The black eye… The cuts.”
“I had Roderick do it.”
“And he did it? He did it so well. One should wonder about a friend like that.”
“Damn you,” Allyn said, lightly. “He was light with it first, but I told them this was serious and I would do him almost as rough.”
“And you did.”
“And now we are the…” Allyn waved a long hand about languidly, “the sole survivor of Osric Wulfstan’s ambush.”
Edith frowned, looking down at herself, then said, “But did you have to ruin my gown?”
“Convincing sister, convincing.”
“Yes,” she said. “And you killed the Dauman soldiers.”
“A shame that was, but necessary,” Allyn said.
“But what of ours?”
“Guarding your rat bastard of a husband.”
“Good,” Edith said. “Soon they’ll be killing him.”
“Well,” Edith rose, brushing her gown, “we had better go back to bed. We’ve a long day tomorrow, many long days, actually. We have a kingdom to take back and Hale be damned for now.”
“And William’s troops gone? Thank God for that.”
“Well,” Edith said, “you can thank God all you want, but you’d do better thanking Morgellyn.”
“Queen Morgellyn? In Essail?”
“Yes, she sent me Richard’s signet ring, and that bit of international diplomacy is going to cost. Unlike God, Morgellyn Aethelyn never does anything from sheer goodwill.”

Wolf gasped, blinking, and he turned to see Myrne. Her head was bowed and Abbot Cuthbert was crowning her his Queen and she was his King.
“Amen,” Cuthbert murmured, clasping his hands. “Amen.”
As the people rose to applaud he kissed his wife, he murmured into her ear, “Did you—?”
“Yes, Wolf,” she whispered, “the moment it was placed on my head.”
As they turned to face their people, hands clasped, and they raised them to the people of Hale, deafening applause filling the abbey, shaking its walls, Myrne said, her eyes never leaving her people, “We will discuss it all tonight.”


The shawns whirred and the bells jangled as the music played on in the Great Hall of Herreboro and Derek pulled more meat from the great boar in the center of the table.

Cedric was singing, clapping his thigh

Vnwigt ho sede awei thu flome is
the wurs that ich the soIwis for thine
vule letewel oft ich mine song
forletemin horte atflith
ana falt mi tongewonne thu art
to me ithrunge

Me luste bet speten thane
singeof thine fule
gogelinge

At one of the cousin tables, Hillary, veiled in white, was watching him.
“She loves him,” Myrne realized, and she looked to Wolf and saw that he knew it as well.
“I must rise and tuck Blake in.”
“I will go with you.”
“Myrne!” Lady Ashley said, “Tonight you are Queen. Ayla can put Blake away. Or I will.”
Myrne looked to Cauda and the red haired woman said, “Ashley, I imagine Myrne is Queen every night, and everynight a boy needs his mother. And his father,” she added.
Ashley seemed unconvinced, but Cauda said, “The people will understand.”

As they left the great hall, they saw Hillary rising, followed by Ingrid, Cynric’s daughter, to bring Cynric his great harp, and the thatch haired mintrel pushed back his patterned cloak and began to sing:

Her pæron reðe forebecna
cumene ofer norðhymbra land .
thæt folc earmlic bre?
don þætpæron
ormete thodenas i?
rescas fyrenne dracan æron ese?

“It was as if I was gone for a long stretch of time,” Wolf was saying, “and taken all over.”
“Yes,” Myrne said. “I was in Ambridge. I saw Allyn Baldwin making plans to kill Edmund, and then I saw him in the forest murdering men and imprisoning the King.”
“But when did it all happen?” Wolf said as they ascended the stair together. “Did it happen yet and…. How do we use these crowns? I knew they were enchanted, but how do we use them?”
“Isn’t there a tale,” Myrne said, “Of Vadan Allfather, and how when he sat on his throne in High Heaven, and placed his helm upon his head he could see what he wished? What if this is how the crowns work?”
“Do you know what I wonder?” Wolf said. “I wonder if they only work when we use them together?”
“How so?”
“Because most times the King is the true ruler and his wife is Queen because she is his wife, but with us you are Queen because you are Queen and I am King because I am King. We rule together and equally. It seems very like Ohean to make it so that I would not be able to use this crown without you. In fact, somehow, I know that’s exactly how he designed it.”
“But how?” Myrne said as they came down the corridor to their apartments. “He always knew you would be King. He did not know about me.”
“I’ve given up on knowing what Master Ash—for he will always be that to me—knows and what he does not. And….” Suddenly Wolf looked very sad.
“If only we could see them,” he said. “If only we knew where they were, or could be with them again.”
“Wolf, what if with the crowns, somehow we can?”
Wolf looked very sober, very sad actually. He said, “You don’t know how sad I become sometimes, thinking of them, wishing they could see our boy and what we’ve done.”
“I do know,” Myrne said, her voice soft. “And yet, before we attempt that we need to know if what we saw is going to happen or if it has happened already. After all, what we are learning is that Edith Baldwin and her brother have schemed against the King and framed us, and somehow, that witch, Morgellyn Aethelyn has helped her.”
“Well, then that knowledge is power.”
Myrne looked unconvinced. She said, “Only if we know how to use it.”



Imogen looked flatly surprised, but Idris’s face was as still as a mask of mahogany. Beside them, the cinnamon colored Ralph Curakin lay low in his seat, dragon eyed, his legs stretched out. But he said nothing.
“When you put the crowns on you can see…. Things?”
“It only happened once,” Myrne said, “at the coronation.”
“You should try to make it happen again,” Imogen said, “see what happens.”
“Actually,” King Idris differed, “you should find out about all of the things you learned.”
“I have already sent birds to my people,” Osric said, “asking if these things have already happened, or if they are things to prevent.”
Idris nodded, and then he looked to his wife. Imogen and Myrne were alike in coloring, but Imogen was more delicately featured, grey eyed, brown haired rather than black.
“The Queen of Rheged is right,” Idris said, “you really ought to learn how to use the crowns. Or at least how to be guided by them.
“Osric says Ohean made them so that we could only use them together,” Myrne said to Idris.
“I do not know if that is true,” Ralph said. “For starters, Ohean did not actually make the crowns. Remember, Sindri the Dwarf made them, and Sindri enchanted them. I do not doubt that Ohean, later, added his own enchantments to them.”
Idris nodded to this, thinking of his cousin.
“Perhaps,” Ralph said, “even added something to them once he knew Myrne would be your queen. But what I really believe is that it is the cynergy of you and Myrne, a Hale woman trained on the Rootless Isle, with Royan descent, as you are Royan descended, that caused the crowns to work so.”
Ralph shrugged.
“I cannot say. I only speculate.”

MORE NEXT WEEK, FRIENDS

 

[CharmedFan28]

That was a great portion! I never get sick of the complicated goings on in this story! Excellent writing and I look forward to more next week. I hope you have a lovely weekend!

 

[ChrisGibson]

WHILE CYNRIC'S LOVE GROWS FOR HILARY, WOLF AND MYRNE STRATEGIZE AGAINST KING EDMUND AND THE BALDWINS



That night, Signy said that she insisted Cynric bathe before he came to bed, and he said, grinning, that he would have it no other way. When he finally came to their room in a fine dressing gown that had come from that vulgar cousin of his, Waverly, Signy said, “I need to talk to you.”
“Yes, wife?” Cynric said, dreamily, beginning to brush his beard as he sat down beside her.
“I am not a shrewish woman, and I will not confront the servant girl for the fault of the master. What is it you see in that Hilary?”
Cynric looked shocked.
“Hilary?”
“Yes, some jumped up servant girl from Inglad, and by the way, why do you think it is proper for her to upstage me, to wheedle her way into my own daughter’s affections, to bring you the harp and sit at your feet?”
Cynric snorted.
“Would you help Ingrid haul a giant harp across the floor? You can scarcely bear to hear me sing.”
“That is not the point.”
“I think it is,” Cynric said. “Now do you want me tonight or no?”
“I think no,” Signy said, at last. “I think nothing will happen between us tonight.”
“Suit yourself,” Cynric said, and though she had flatly rejected him, she was still offended at how easily he walked away.

But then the marriage had been easy. Something assembled between parents and they had both agreed to it. Romance was a southern thing. Cynric was capable, Signy good looking and a housemaker. They had a lovely daughter and, until a year ago, a large enough house in the highlands. She had little tolerance for his music, or his obsession with the old religion, and the whole time he had joined his cousin’s rebellion, she had assured him they would all be killed by Edmund and the Baldwins. No, Cynric realized as he came to the the parapet of the castle, overlooking the town of Herrreboro, he did not love her, and it had never truly mattered until recently.
There she was, leaning over the parapet, dark hair blowing like a banner, not truly a servant, not Myrne’s at least, close friends with Ayla now, Hilary. He walked as quietly as possible wondering how long it would take for her to hear him. And was he trying to frighten her? What if she jumped? Would he laugh? But even while he was thinking this, she turned to him and smiled.
“You are what I wished for,” she said, frankly. “I was here, looking over this city, and I wished Cynric was here.”
He couldn’t help but smiling. He knew he looked a fool. She beckoned to him and they stood together looking over the town.
“When the Hale inherited Inglad they really just left the North alone, didn’t they?” she said.
“When the Wulfstans inherited Inglad, they left Hales alone,” Cynric corrected. He said, “In comparison to Ambridge, how does Herreboro look?”
“I was almost a slave in Ambridge,” Hilary said. “There I was always looking up or over my shoulder. Here I look down on a city and stand beside the… Queen’s cousin. What kind of a fool would I be to say Ambridge was better?”
After a while, Hilary said, “Since I have come here, I have tried to be honest. What I was going to say a moment ago is not that I stand beside the Queen’s cousin, but that I stand beside the man I love. I do love you, Cynric. That’s a fact. You’re a married man. That’s a fact too.”
“My wife threw me out tonight.”
“She’s the sort who would,” Hilary said. “That also is a fact.
“What if we sit here all night and watch the stars?”
She turned to Cynric who looked in love with her, like another man had, a long time ago. He looked… charmed was the word… by her.
“Yes,” he said.



Days later, the Wrens came. They were not only wrens, but sparrows, robins and every other sort of bird one would never look twice at. Until Royan barons like the Lord of Cleave had shown Wolf the use of them, Hale had never had them. They carried their messages not on their legs, but in their tweets, and a Hearer translated. In one of the upper chambers of Herreboro Castle, sitting beside his wife, Cynric, Eryk and Ralph Curakin pacing the room, King Osric learned, while what he had seen was a little prescient, only a few days in the future, by now it had certainly happened.
“Then the first thing we have to do,” Myrne said, “is make Allyn Baldwin’s lie true.”
“Do you think he hasn’t already killed Edmund?” Eryk wondered.
Myrne shook her head.
“He wouldn’t dare, but we must dare. According to the vision, he is a day south of here in an old marchland castle.”
Wolf nodded.
“Well, then let’s not take an army to do what five or six could do. I think we’d do better to sneak in and take the fort.”
“Agreed,” Eryk said, “But just because you don’t need an army doesn’t mean we won’t take one. We will march covertly, and we will see that the place is surrounded. No need to take unnecessary chances.”
“Let us march as if this was the most important castle in the world,” Wolf said. “It seems as if Edmund had been there scarcely a day. We will go by night, through the wood, and attack by day, and have him by noon.”
“I wonder,” Ralph said, “if you are not overly careful.”
“Overly careful is better than overly confident,” Lady Ashley said, and Ralph nodded to this.
“And on Inglad?” Myrne said to her husband.
“Yes, wife?”
“Once you said you would be content to leave Inglad to Edmund and his wife and, presumably, to whomever came after him. What now?”
“The Baldwins have as much as made open war on us by this lie,” King Osric said, “and Edmund is in our lands, and in our grasp. As soon as we have Edmund, then we will march into Inglad. Until we have taken Ambridge and the Baldwins heads are on pikes, we are not done.”

MORE TOMORROW

 

[CharmedFan28]

Excellent as always to get back to this story! The dynamic between Cynric, Signy and Hilary is very interesting. As for the strategies against the King I am fascinated to see how that ends up. Great writing and I look forward to more tomorrow!

 

[ChrisGibson]

And I will look forward to sharind it. I was going to say that I was not sure what was more interesting, the stuff between Signy, Cynric and Hilary, or the the stuff between Wolf, Myrne and the Baldwins, but I know where my excitement lies.

 

[ChrisGibson]

TONIGHT, THE CONCLUSION OF OUR CHAPTER



KINGSBORO





Cedd came out into the garden where he saw Isobel, sitting by the fountain, her stomach beginning to round.
“So,” the Queen said, “you have read Mother’s letter.”
“Yes,” Cedd nodded and sat beside his wife, “and the one that came from Rheghed as well.”
He placed his hand on Isobel’s stomach and said, “Our son may be born into a safe world after all.”
“Or as safe as worlds can be,” Isobel said.
“It seems Teryn will be coming back here with my neice, Linalla.”
“My soon to be sister,” Isobel showed no emotion. “Oh, what a tangled web we weave when first we choose to make royal alliances.”
“So does that mean Linalla will be my sister too?” Cedd grinned.
“In a way,” Isobel said, “though since I try not to think of Bohemond as my brother, it’s easier to disregard that aspect.”
“And what…. Will that make Morgellyn?”
“Your sister, Cedd. She is always your sister.”
“And yours too. Ha, I see the thought makes you as nauseous as it does me.”
“I thought there was a closeness between you.”
Cedd made a noise, seemingly of discovery.
“It is the closeness of two bad children. Two bad apples. She has things on me. Bad choices, low choices I have made. That is our bond.”
“Yes,” Isobel nodded.
“Dear,” Cedd said now.
“Yes?”
“Lord Rufus is very fond of you.”
“Anthony’s brother?” Imogen smirked at Cedd. “And why are you telling me?”
“Because you should be happy,” Cedd said. “Because you came into this marriage knowing how it was with Anthony, and content to see me going off to bed with him, but—”
“Who will go to bed with me?” Imogen laughed as she stood up and smoothed her pale blue gown over her growing stomach.
“You are so fair!” Cedd smiled on her. “Such a woman should have as many lovers as she wishes!”
“Caedmon,” Isobel said, sternly, “you should be quieter when you say such things.”
The handsome man stood up, and he was only a little taller than her. Her clasped her hands in his.
“We make a lovely couple, do we not? And soon we will have a lovely child. Maybe several. Let the people think what they wish. When this baby has come, when you are up to it again, if a man comes to you, then go to him. I am not an unfair man and you… are a queen out of legend.”
She was strangely touched, more than she expected. Isobel hadn’t planned to take any sort of lover. There were other things on her mind, things Cedd had never thought about. Down south, Solahn was annexing Zahem, and though he mattered little to people in Westrial, this was the doing of Phineas. William was sailing south, back home to Daumany, and though to all the Sendic kings this seemed like excellent news, Isobel, who now knew how littler her cousin cared for family ties, wonder if, rather than allying with the southern kingdoms, he might make a bid to seize them.
She placed her hands on her firm stomach, sheltering the life inside, and looked up at her husband.
He is so handsome, she thought. And so good. Far better than he knows.



AMBRIDGE





As she lay on her side, watching Roderick dress, Edith said, “Soon you will be able to stay. Soon if you will, you can wake up here.”
The Queen sat up thinking of winding the bedsheet about her, then letting it go. Her breasts were not as high as they had once been, and parts of her, once tight, had begun to spread out, but her hair was still rich and golden and, looking at her reflection in the mirror, she judged herself still fair.
“I am not begging you, Roderick. I am only saying, if you would like.”
Roderick was even better looking that the first time he had come to her, when they were both younger, and now he came to Edith, kissing her fiercely.
“My Queen you only have to whistle and I’ll come like your dog. But,” his face still close to hers, “right now you are right. It isn’t seemly for me to be here too long ,to be seen coming out a Queen in mourning’s chambers.”
“True, true,” Edith nodded. “Besides, I need time to myself, to think of something, to put things in order.”
Roderick kissed her extended hand and left her there. Edith sat, naked, for a long time, studying herself, studying her life. It was not like she would ever return to Hale and certainly not North Hale. It was unlikely she would ever be Queen of that land again, but now, with only Inglad, and with Edmund gone, she was more Queen than she had ever been before.
The whole time she had been with Roderick, she had wanted to confess to her lover, but her confession was about Allyn or around Allyn, was about Roderick’s very best friend. Now that Edmund was gone, now that she was a Queen with no king beside her, she did not know that she wanted her brother to be King, her brother who could make no decision on his own, who might, no, who would, in the end, wed some younger, simpler girl and make her a the Queen, and then what of Edith. No, she thought, she should have had a son, like Morgellyn. She should have had a young stupid son who could not come to power for years so that no one would think of handing her throne to Allyn.
Touching her belly, Edith said, “I will have a son. I will… have Edmund’s son.”


TOMORROW NIGHT WE RETURN TO WORKS AND DAYS AND SEE WHAT CHAYNE AND THE LEWISES ARE UP TO

 

[CharmedFan28]

That was a great end to the chapter! Lots of babies on the way and drama too although that is already here in parts. I look forward to seeing what happens. Excellent writing! I also look forward to Works and Days tomorrow!