Bloodlines

by Helen Church

  For Stephen Moore

  Copyright © 2019 by Helen L Church.

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion

  thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Prologue

  “Master Ellard! You must wake!”

  “Hmmf.”

  “It is serious, Sir! You must hurry or your Grandfather will come here, and it is my head he’ll have, not yours!”

  The word ‘Grandfather’ was all he heard, and one eye reluctantly opened to see his companion at arms yanking open the drapes, though there was no sun.

  Lacking the energy or the inclination to move, or even to ask what the sudden urgency was, he simply waited for Casto’s frenzy to reach its peak, where all would undoubtedly come spilling from his lips at no urging from him.

  “The Courtiers are coming Sir, they say you have broken the law! A council is in session and they have demanded your presence immediately!”

  Ellard laughed, “you are joking.” He knew this had to be a joke of some kind, because it was so impossibly untrue.

  But then, why was Casto so pale?

  He sit’s up then, and checks the Blood Mark on his arm. As had been since his birth, the symbol of the sword was clearly defined in his flesh. So the Courtiers had not sentenced him yet, but there was a strange tingling sensation within his skin. “What law am I accused of breaking?”

  Casto shakes his head, “they wouldn’t tell me Sir.”

  “But you know. You hear every whisper in this kingdom!”

  Casto looks pained.

  “Tell me!”

  “They are saying that you have lain with a breeder, and that she is carrying your one.”

  Ellard sags with relief and gets out of bed, “that is untrue. The Courtiers can test me Casto. There must be some kind of mistake to be accusing the Prince of such a thing.”

  Casto still looks pained, “but they say they have proof. The breeder has been brought to the castle.”

  “There is no proof, because this never happened.” He pulls on the breeches that Casto hands to him.

  Thundering footsteps echo from the corridor, and Casto immediately bows his head as his Grandfather storms into the room. “Fool!”

  “Grandfather I am innocent,” he says calmly, holding the scrutinizing gaze with genuine confidence.

  Jocham could tell a lie when he heard it, and Ellard’s sincerity must have weighed true in his judgmental eyes. Yet he still demanded to see his arm, by silently holding out his hand.

  Ellard raised his arm and placed it in his Grandfather’s hand. They both looked at the Blood Mark of the sword, still defined proudly, and not yet marred by life. Jocham’s own arm bore the sword as Ellard’s did. That defined their royal blood, but he also bore the marks of Marriage, Fatherhood, Enthronement, and Battle. Ellard hadn’t even finished his studies yet, and wouldn’t come of age for another year, so his marks had not yet blossomed.

  Clearly Jocham had expected to see the mark of a tryst or union, which usually showed as a loop or ring.

  “See Jocham, I have done nothing.” As he looks into his Grandfather’s eyes he is alarmed to see suspicion and fear.

  “Come.” Jocham stalks from the room, still clutching Ellard’s arm.

  Ellard is now more alarmed than when Casto first woke him. If Jocham didn’t believe him, and was afraid, how could the Courtier’s possibly understand. Jocham’s disbelief was confirmed when Ellard heard him muttering, “impossible…never in the kingdom…”

  “Jocham please, I have committed no crime. I have lain with nobody.”

  “Silence!”

  Ellard could see with increasing fear that Jocham is taking him to the lower levels where the court and prisons were situated.

  How could the Courtier’s make such a mistake? Ellard knew he had done no wrong, and yet the accusations were sickening. To accuse someone of a crime, the Courtier’s had to know beyond a doubt that they were guilty. What proof could they possibly possess in the breeder female? A falsified mark? No, that was impossible. Pin and ink could mark the skin, but it could be proven false, whereas the Blood Mark would never lie. The Courtier’s would know this. Since the curse had been bestowed on their land everyone of notable bloodline was born with a Blood Mark on their arm.

  It had to be some kind of Magick’s. But again the thought was impossible. The Magick’s were contained within the citadel of Carbom, and no known Witch or Seer would dare cross the kingdom with such a treachery.

  The court was in full attendance, and Ellard nearly cried as he saw the Courtier’s standing at the wall bearing the Blood Map, poised to cut his name out of the canvas with her dagger.

  Jocham saw this and held Ellard’s arm high. “The boy has done nothing! Courtier’s, explain your business this night!”

  Elder Vesta, a slim and fierce looking woman stepped away from the Blood Map and bowed, as was custom. She kept her eyes on Jocham, which was against custom, but Courtier’s were the keepers of the law, and often dared to push their limits. “My Lord, the son of your son has spent himself. We are clear that this is a crime. Yes?”

  Jocham tugs Ellard’s arm under her nose, “then explain this!”

  Gasps from those close enough to see Ellard’s arm, followed by more whispers of ‘impossible.’

  Vesta is shocked, clearly so, as she forget’s her bow and unceremoniously grabs at Ellard’s arm. “This has to be a deception,” she hisses.

  Her tiny fingers gouged at his arm, and he gasps in pain. Jocham notices this and pulls the tiny woman away. “You can see no evidence of your accusations, now I demand to know why you would make such a spectacle of the Courtier’s! But first you will apologise to my Grandson, as you can see he is still virgin.”

  Vesta pales. A false accusation was unheard of, and lesser transgressions had received a death sentence.

  Vesta bows to Ellard, and lowers her eyes to the ground, “apologies Master Ellard. But Lord Jocham, forgive me. We do have proof of the crime.”

  “You mentioned irrefutable proof. I demand to see it, immediately, so we can be done with this.”

  Vesta turns back to the other Courtier’s, who were all shaken by Ellard’s innocence, and gives a nod to Elder Oas, who hurries from the court, and Ellard notices then that the council in their seats were all whispering among themselves, until they notice that both Jocham and Vesta were studying Ellard’s arm again.

  Ellard looked too, and was alarmed to see his mark was changing. He remembered the tingling he’d felt earlier, which came back now with full force.

  “Jocham this is trickery, I have done nothing,” Ellard pleads.

  “I believe you boy,” Jocham says quietly. “But the blood never lies. And a royal father is marked by a bind around his sword, and that is what is happening to your mark now.”

  Vesta meet’s Ellard’s worried eyes, and she herself still seems confused, which softened her abrasiveness. “Do you still deny your charge?”

  “Yes! As Grandfather says, the blood never lies, and you can see my innocence. If the proof you are bringing in is some breeder bastard, then the trickery is in their hands!”

  “Vesta! The Blood Map! Quickly!” One of the Courtier’s calls.

  Vesta hurries to the map, which is held on the Great Wall for all to see the King’s Lineage.

  Ellard had never witnessed an addition to the line before. Since the barren times had made breeding almost impossible, the line was reduced to just one birth for every generation, and every birth was a male. He was the latest in the line, but he still knew the impossibility of what he was seeing, and understood exactly what it meant.

  The blank space bene
ath is name began to darken. His heir, his son, his bastard, was being born. “No!” He cried out. “How is this possible? Jocham please?!” Ellard pleaded with his Grandfather, as if the towering man could explain or end this nightmare.

  Elder Oas returned then, looking ashen. Vesta notices and nods, “the girl died?”

  Oas looks at the ground after a sad nod. “I’m having her carried to the court so you may see the Blood Marks before they fade.”

  Jocham is outraged by this latest news. “I will not have an expired breeder in this court!”

  Vesta is undeterred. “Lord Jocham, examining this girl is the fastest way to confirm your Grandson’s innocence, and you shall submit to the Courtier’s in this matter. Such is the law.”

  Oas had more to say, but was silenced by the guard carrying a prone figure into the court. They placed the figure on the judge’s bench. The only seat free, and the one usually occupied by Jocham.

  Ellard didn’t want to look, the girl was partially disrobed, and he didn’t want the first naked woman he saw to be a dead breeder. But Jocham pulled him forward, “this concerns you Ellard, you cannot look away,” he insists angrily.

  And so he looked, as did the entire court.

  The girl was quite beautiful, if not for her stillness.

  Jocham turns to Oas, “you insisted this girl was a breeder? She has no markings.”

  Ellard had heard that breeders carried floral markings, but the only mark on the girls arm showed a bird. “What does the bird mean?” He asks, having never heard of such a marking before.

  Oas was confused, “when this female was discovered, she bore the mark of a breeder. All the Courtier’s witnessed this. But look at her belly now, the royal marking is still there.”

  A female, once bred, bore the markings of the child she carried, and Ellard saw for himself the Royal Sword marking her swollen belly. The child had to be his, as he was the only living unspent Royal in the line.

  Confused and overwhelmed, he simply said, “I have never seen this female before.”

  There is a moment of hush as they study the girl.

  Ellard cannot stand to look any longer, and turns his attention back to the Blood Map. The darkening patch that had begun to form moments ago was still there, but not formed. In fact, it was fading. “The child was birthed? Does it carry the mark as well?”

  Jocham looked to Oas, but the Courtier shook his head, “the child will have expired my Lord.”

  Ellard pointed to the Blood Map, “it lives, now get it out of this corpse!”

  Nobody knew what to do. These events were new and alarming. Only Jocham took action. “Step aside, my Great Grandson won’t die, however it came to be here!” He pulled his knife from his belt, and Ellard turned away. He couldn’t watch this.

  He went to the Blood Map, and stared at his own name, being bound by a line darkening and leading down to this heir that was somehow his. He closed his eyes against the sounds of Jocham’s butchery behind him.

  An eternal moment later brought the screaming sounds of a new life protesting at its welcome to the world.

  “Ellard come here,” Jocham commands quietly, and more whispers erupt within the court.

  He opens his eyes and is confused by the name of his heir: Ilsa.

  Jocham joins him at the Map, clutching the bloodied squealing mass. “It’s a girl.”

  1

  As was her habit when she was a small child, she ran to Pappy Jocham whenever father upset her. The only difference was that now she couldn’t launch herself into his arms as she used to. As Elder Vesta was always reminding her, a lady should carry herself as a picture of elegance at all times, whether that lady had a sword strapped to her hip or not. So, head held high and shoulders back, she entered the banquet hall where Jocham always took his breakfast. When she was little she used to pilfer food from his plate, while he would read to her, but now she wouldn’t fit into his lap, and she always skipped breakfast.

  He smiled up at her, “come and sit down young lady. I am guessing that you are here to complain about your father.”

  She took the seat to Jocham’s left and waited until she was invited to speak.

  His beard and head were now almost completely grey, only hints of the fiery red remained. “Speak.”

  Where could she begin? “Father hates me.”

  Jocham sighed, “no he doesn’t.”

  “He does Pappy, he can’t even look at me. And when he does he gives me such a look of loathing. And I know all the stories, I know how I wasn’t born normally. And he doesn’t even believe that I am his child!”

  Another sigh.

  “He treats me like I ruined his life.”

  Jocham pushed his plate away and leaned his forearms on the table.

  Ilsa took a deep breath and continued, “I know that I am the reason he drinks so much.”

  “I’ll speak with him again, but Ilsa dear, you must not listen to false histories and gossip. True, how you came to be is still a mystery to us all, but I have no doubt that it was a blessing bestowed upon us. Perhaps even to show an end to our barren curse.”

  She noticed how Pappy didn’t deny that she had ruined father’s life. Nobody would marry a spent prince, and though he swore to this day that he had lain with no breeder, the mystery was enough proof for lands beyond their borders, and all the potential brides it bore. The Blood Map never showed a false union. The breeder that she had been pulled from was unknown to others in her quarter of the realm, and the bird Blood Mark she bore was just another piece of the puzzle that nobody understood.

  “Pappy he called me a bastard.”

  Jocham rubbed his eyes wearily. He really was starting to look frail these days, and she immediately felt guilty for complaining about the same thing she had complained about for years now.

  Father slammed the doors behind him as he entered the room, and Jocham’s eyes became hard. “Come here and sit down Ellard.”

  Father sat to Jocham’s right, both he and Ilsa glaring at each other across the banquet table with Jocham glowering between them.

  “Yes Grandfather?”

  “I’m tired of having this same conversation with you, about your daughter.”

  “She isn’t mine!”

  “Enough!” Jocham slammed his fist down on the table, making all the cutlery jump. “Ellard the time is long past for you to simply accept that Isla is your daughter. We all know that she was not conventionally delivered, and we still cannot explain it, nor may we ever! But the fact remains that the Blood does not lie, and even you cannot deny this fact boy.”

  She knew then, from watching Ellard’s face tighten into a mask of pain, that he didn’t hate her at all, nor blame her. He was mourning for the life that he should have had. A wife and son, as was tradition. He must be so lonely, and her chest began to ache with sympathy for him.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, though she didn’t know for what she was apologising.

  Ellard’s features softened a little as he looked at her, perhaps he saw that she had finally understood his pain, or maybe Jocham’s words had finally weighed true in his mind. “I’m sorry too Ilsa. I know it is not your fault any more than it is mine. And I do not hate you.

  2

  Every day after her weapon and combat training, she had instruction from Elder Vesta. Learning the histories and law’s was usual, but today was different. Elder Vesta looked uncomfortable as she didn’t pull out the usual books and maps from their library, but instead sat with her hands clasped on the table top.

  Ilsa took her seat in silence, and waited for the Elder to begin whatever today’s lesson would be, though already she felt uneasy as she knew Vesta had never broken routine before, so something different and unknown was about to happen.

  “Ilsa, today I have to talk to you about something quite private.”

  “Private?”

  “Yes, I would like for you to discuss this with nobody else but me, and then only when I invite you to. Do you understand?”r />
  “Yes Elder.” She had never been asked to keep a secret before, and her mind was already wondering who she would possibly tell anyway.

  “We’ve spoken before about the barren curse on our kingdom, and how marriage unions are consummated Ilsa, and how children are conceived. But we’ve never spoken about you and your responsibilities to your kingdom have we?”

  Ilsa blushed, “I don’t understand Elder, I’m not married yet.”

  “No you are not, but I believe that soon the Court will demand that you must be.”

  She felt her cheeks warm further, “but I am only eighteen years old! The law states that an heir must take a mate by their twenty first birthday.”

  “The law states that the Prince must choose his wife by his twenty first birthday. No contingency was ever written for a female heir; a Princess. And as you know Ilsa, the way a woman must prepare for a child is…”

  “The blood,” Ilsa finishes the statement. But she still didn’t see the connection. “But I haven’t bled yet.”

  “Exactly Ilsa, and I believe that the Courts want a husband in place so that once you are ready, you will be prepared to provide an heir. We don’t know that if you begin your womanly bleeding that it will happen more than once. You may only be able to have one heir as the men are cursed to do.”

  Ilsa was angry. “Provide an heir! Why would they want an heir so urgently? Jocham is still King, then father is next in line. The throne is fine.”

  “Royal blood must continue to flow Ilsa, and the pressure is never on a man to marry as their bodies do not have a time limit on them as long as they are unspent. A woman only has a limited time, and we do not know that the curse has spared you. As I have said, the male bloodline has been cursed until now to only one male child. Once you bleed, you may only have that one chance. And that is the reason the Courts will likely force a marriage. In fact Ilsa, we are lucky they have not done it already.”

  “To whom?”

  Elder Vesta drew a small book from her pocket and handed it to Ilsa. “I do not know. But I wanted for you to be prepared for this possibility. You already understand your duty to the throne, and this kingdom, but the timing of this matter must be very precise, and I don’t want you to be upset when it does happen dear,” her features soften a little. Ilsa feels as though she is seeing an insight into another adult today. This woman was feared throughout the realm for her unyielding faith in the law, but she clearly cared for Ilsa, and knew that a shock of this magnitude coming from the court would upset her greatly.