Altered Destinies- Earth Reborn

by Yvonne Hertzberger

  Altered Destinies:

  Earth Reborn

  Yvonne Hertzberger

  Copyright Yvonne Hertzberger 2019

  Cover by Rebecca Poole at dreams2media.com

  All rights reserved. NO part of this book may be reproduced without the publisher’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  The moral right of the author has been asserted in accordance with the Copyrights, Designs and Patents Act 1988

  ISBN: 978-0-9948825-3-0

  Acknowledgments

  I would like to express my profound gratitude to all those who supported me in the creation of this book. Special mentions go to my beta readers: Laurel, Leslie, Liz, Kim and Carolyn. You all made this a better book by far.

  To Ed, thank you for all the insights, suggestions and encouragement as I struggled.

  To the members of my critique group, Jane Ann, Ed and Ash - I may not accept all you say but it made me think and that’s priceless.

  To my spouse, Mark, who understands that writing is “real work” even though it adds little to our budget.

  To all my readers, without whom I would have no reason to write.

  Finally to all those who took the time to write honest reviews on my previous books. Every author depends on that kind of support. You keep me writing.

  Contents

  CREDO

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Epilogue

  CREDO

  It is told that in the time before time, the time before memory, before our people populated the earth, others covered all the lands. They built fantastical cities, from materials we do not understand, filled with numbers of people beyond comprehension.

  We know this is so, because from time to time, strange objects emerge from the soil, objects made from things no one has ever seen, nor can fathom the uses for.

  It is told that, at the end of the time of the others, there was a great war, conflagrations that consumed whole cities and poisoned the land. These created a cataclysm such as none can imagine. It melted the earth as far as a man can walk in a week.

  We know this is so, because we have mined the molten rocks from which we now create our most precious amulets and jewels. We wear these to remind us of our duty to govern well.

  It is told that the smoke and ash from the conflagration spread over all the lands and waters, blocking the sun. The earth grew cold. Nothing grew, not the grass, nor the trees, nor the animals of the earth, nor the creatures of the waters.

  We know this is so because we find strange animals and plants we do not recognize in the molten rock and in the deep layers of ashen soil.

  The people died, leaving only a few, our ancestors. These are the ones from whom we are all descended. It is they who have carried the account of our beginnings so that we may remember and be thankful. And that we may not repeat the errors of those who went before.

  Our numbers remain few, our cities small, much knowledge lost.

  Chapter One

  BAIN

  Bain nudged the man next to him with his elbow. “Who is that woman, that beauty in blue?”

  His companion gave a derisive snort. “You won’t get far with that one. She is Lord Danza’s daughter. They call her the Ice Queen. Every man who vies for her attentions gets frostbite.”

  Bain’s gaze followed the back of the raven haired beauty with the alabaster skin, transfixed, as she glided out the door at the far end of the hall. When she disappeared from view the man who had made the comment held out his hand, breaking the spell.

  “I am Kort, third son of Norston, advisor to Lord Danza.”

  “I am Bain, son of Lord Makin.” Bain took the hand and shook it. “I am pleased to make your acquaintance, sir.”

  Kort chuckled lightly as he accepted Bain’s hand. “I am aware of who you are. I warrant very few here are not. Welcome to Kinterron.”

  “And who was the man the, uh, Ice Queen, was escaping from?”

  Kort frowned. “That is Mathune of Belthorn. He imagines himself a ladies’ man but has a reputation for cruelty and deceit. I dare say he has his eyes on that prize. She obviously wants none of him. Stay clear of him. He is dangerous.”

  Bain took a long look at Mathune and nodded. “Yes, I have seen his type.”

  Bain felt out of place in this great hall. Kinterron was more wealthy than Marston, his home fief. Every candle sconce on the walls bore one of the Jewels of Fire. They glittered in the flickering flames. The women wore gowns of brilliant colours, made from the rare silk of the Jewel Spider, reflecting the colours in the jewels they wore. Even the men wore such jewels in pins on the shoulders of their dress tunics.

  The wealth of Kinterron was brought into full view by the artifacts fastened to the walls of the hall, strange objects for which no one could discern a purpose, partly encased in molten rock, or occasionally carefully cleaned to reveal twisted metals that could no longer be made. These had been found in the tunnels where the jewels were mined. Bain was glad that his father and Lady Flor favoured less ostentatious décor.

  Bain had not been raised as heir to his father Lord Makin’s fiefdom. This event was his first important social occasion since being legitimized and named heir. He had been at court occasions in Marston but none compared with this. Lord Makin had sent him to this annual spring court gathering on his own to learn and to observe. He rolled his shoulders and did his best to look relaxed, though the glitter and opulence made him uncomfortable.

  Had Bain been born to Lady Flor, Lord Makin’s Lady, this, and all court life, would be familiar. He would have been raised to it. But Lady Flor had borne no children, leaving Lord Makin with no legitimate heir. He was painfully aware of the disdain with which the other heirs, and indeed their families, regarded him.

  Two years ago, when all hope of a legitimately born heir faded, Lord Makin had summoned Bain and his mother to court. That order had turned both their lives upside down. Lord Makin had declared Bain, his only bastard son, as his heir, and begun the rigorous training that would prepare him for the role he would inherit.

  These two years had been a whirlwind: training in arms, history, strategy, and not least, court etiquette and political gamesmanship. These last two would teach him how to nav
igate the intricate relationships between the lords of the lands and their advisors without stepping on toes, at least until he had established his position and been accepted in court circles. The present gala was the first of the rotating, twice annual gatherings he would attend as heir. Eventually he would be expected to find a bride at one.

  Bain did his best to recall all he had learned about the histories of each fief and its place in the hierarchy of power. With the descriptions he had been given he tried to connect the many faces with names. Which sons would be heirs, and which ones were looking for suitable brides? The effort was fatiguing. Who is that man, now? And that young woman, whose daughter is she? To say the situation was delicate would be a gross understatement.

  Bain remained painfully aware of how precarious his position was, making him once again forget his companion.

  A prod in the ribs by Kort brought him out of his reverie. “… that one is looking your way. Ask her to dance.”

  With effort Bain pulled his attention back and tried to spot the young woman indicated. “Where?”

  “There, in red, the dark haired one, with the ancient jewel pendant. Nice curves.”

  “Hmmmm.” Before he had to commit himself, another man approached the lady in question. He was off the hook … for now. “Perhaps later. I think I need some air.” He maneuvered his way between the guests, past the rows of benches and trestle tables, to the huge, carved, double doors at the end of the great hall, grateful that no one seemed to take notice of him.

  Once he left behind the bright lights, the music, the jostling and noise of the festivities, he drew in long, deep breaths of the crisp night air. Of course they pay me no notice. I am a bastard. They will not accept me as the heir to Marston simply because my father has declared it.

  He did his best, and failed, to recall the name of the young man who had answered some of his questions before he met Kort. Father, I am not ready. You have sent me here too soon.

  The doors behind him burst open and two young revelers, arms entwined, spilled out, almost tripping on the last step before fading, still laughing, into the darkness. No doubt other hopeful couples had already left for their own trysts.

  No hope of my enjoying a tryst tonight. He allowed himself a wry snicker, and then sighed deeply. Duty called. He must go back into the fray. He squared his shoulders, gave them another roll and headed back into the great hall. His lessons in history and politics had taught him who was who but now he needed to put more faces to the names. By the time this week’s event ended he needed to know them all.

  His stomach did a lurch as he passed the banquet table laden with all manner of rich food and drink. In his current state of anxiety eating was out of the question. While the wine tempted him he knew better than to imbibe on an empty stomach. This would not be a good time to make a fool of himself.

  The musicians had stopped playing and the guests drifted away from the centre where they had been dancing in search of more food, drink, and seats. Bain could see that many of the youngest guests engaged in serious flirtation or conversation with someone of the opposite sex. Many wore the ancient “jewels of many colours” mined from the molten rocks said to have been created in the “Great Conflagration”. Some thought the story to be myth. Most believed the ancient tales of a time before time when the world looked much different – a time before great balls of fire fell from the sky, melting mountains and creating a darkness so long almost all the people starved and history had to begin again. Bain did believe. Aside from the jewels he had been shown a number of strange artifacts taken from the mines, things for which no one could fathom a use and of materials so strange he could only wonder at them. He thought that those who denied the history were foolish for refusing to see the evidence before their eyes.

  A careful look around told him the woman in blue had not reappeared. Is she with someone? Or is Kort right and she spurns us all?

  Bain took a quick tally of the remaining guests and found that he could put names to most of the older men - the lords and eldest sons. It was a start, not a bad one if he was honest with himself. Many lords were absent from the event, leaving, as Lord Makin had, their offspring to find their own path.

  Thankful that no one took notice of him he found a chair in a darker corner and sat down to observe. The evening was drawing to a close. Many of the older men and women had already gone, leaving the hall to the young, those who had not already paired off and left. Here and there another young couple drifted away, no doubt to a more private spot. How many of those hopeful young ladies would have their dreams shattered by the end of the week, he wondered? And how many reputations would be destroyed? No, that was a game a bastard heir could not afford to play – not that he had any desire to. He’d leave that to the spoiled sons of the more powerful lords, the roués who felt themselves above the rules.

  The image of the woman referred to as the Ice Queen kept intruding into his thoughts, making it impossible to concentrate on learning names and faces, so he stopped fighting it. He still had not learned her true name. She had a singular beauty, rare in his home fief. The women at home had mostly olive skin and various shades of brown hair, though some blondes and gingers could also be found.

  Perhaps that was what had struck him. He shook his head at his own folly - to lose his balance over something so shallow. And yet, he could not get her out of his mind – how she carried herself with such grace that she fairly glided across the floor, head held high on her slender neck. The rich blue had accented her jet black hair and fair complexion. Though he had not been close enough to see them he imagined her eyes as the colour of cornflowers.

  With a rueful shake of his head he brought himself back to the present. Forget her. She is out of your reach. By now the hall was almost empty of guests. Only the servants still bustled about setting the space back in order and preparing it for the breaking of the fast next morning. The contrast between their toil and the freedoms of their masters was not lost on him. As the son of a peasant healer he remembered only too well. I must never forget that.

  He heaved his tired body out of the chair and made his way to the barracks where the single male guests lodged. Before falling onto his cot he noted that a few other cots had discarded clothing draped on them but were unoccupied. No doubt their owners had found a warmer, softer welcome elsewhere.

  In spite of his fatigue sleep eluded him. Each time he closed his eyes the vison of the beauty in blue intruded. The first hint of dawn already crept into the small barracks windows before he finally shook himself and rolled onto his side away from the light. His last thought was a decision to meet the woman face to face, perhaps to introduce himself. Maybe when she gives me the brush-off I can let her go. With that thought he drifted into a fitful doze until the sounds of the young men returning from their revels or waking from sleep roused him.

  Chapter Two

  MORNING

  Bain declined an invitation from Kort to join him in the Great Hall for some food. He needed to be alone – and to find out more about Lord Danza’s daughter. He needed to learn her name. That thought occurred to him too late to catch Kort and ask him. Wake up, idiot. You need your wits about you.

  He had no wish to mingle with the others but his stomach growled loudly telling him he did need something to eat. Knowing that the kitchens in most castles were in the level below the main one he sought out a stairway and made his way into the cellars. The aroma of fresh bread led him to the kitchens. Since he had thrown on the old breeches and tunic he’d worn before being summoned to his father’s court the servants took little notice of him. He was glad, now, that he had not discarded them. They lent anonymity when he needed to escape the critical eyes of the court. A serving maid passed him with a huge tray laden with fragrant loaves of warm bread. He snatched one off the top.

  When the maid began to scowl and shake her head he gave her a conspiratorial wink and a grin. She rolled her eyes but could not hide the dimple that told him he would not be scolded, before s
he scurried off. He broke off a big chunk and chewed it as he trolled the kitchen for some cheese. Knowing better than to snatch it off the trays so carefully sliced and laid out, ready to take upstairs, he kept on until he came to the cold pantry. There he found not only a huge wheel of cheese but a keg of ale with a mug beside it. Apparently the servants helped themselves. Just like at home. As long as they do their duty no one says anything. He filled the mug half-way and drank it down before slicing himself some cheese and taking his booty away up the stairs, down a hall, and out the back doors into the castle gardens. There, though it was still spring, he could see early greens and herbs growing. He recognized a few from the salads served the evening before. In other plots the first sprouts of the later vegetables poked through the earth. The familiar, fresh smell of newly turned soil and growing things refreshed him. He located a three-legged garden stool and lowered himself onto it to enjoy his bread and cheese in peace.

  The cheese made him thirsty and he found himself wishing he’d brought a mug of that ale with him. Going back might attract a little too much attention so he decided against it. He left the garden by the side gate and strolled around outside the castle wall to familiarize himself more with the area.