Alone in the world, the two tribes continued their worship of the arts and understood much of the world; they studied the stars and new the passage of time. Their scholars wrote many books and kept a record of their history. They understood maths, engineering and science, and built many great structures within their city.
Ascension
Then the sea god, Kwi-aqua, appeared to the elders and took them to the Isle of Carras. There, she told them of the My’thos war with the Dark Force of the Earth and how it was trapped inside an Orrinn. How Hagan, the Wise One, became its Keeper and took it to a far-off land where he built a large cavern to house it. The Hall of Whispers was the name of the Orrinn’s new home, and there Hagan still sleeps the eternal sleep, waiting for one of the elders’ people to become the book’s new Keeper.
The Eldi were sad to hear of the old god’s loss and called this book the Gredligg Orrinn, the Book of Lost Souls. For they believed this was where the souls of all the old gods resided.
Then Kwi-aqua gifted to them the large islands off the cost of Carras and bade them to lift their people and settle them on these new lands. The Eldi refer to this act as the first year of Ascension.
The Sundering of the Tribes
When the Roguns and the Vallkytes arrived, they called the string of islands the South Sea Horn and inhabited the largest and most northerly of these. Their new home was a modest, continent-sized island split down the middle by a great river. So the tribes settled in the west half and called it Tattoium, after the mountain range to the east. Then, in time, the Vallkytes moved beyond these mountains, journeying to the lands in the east, and called it Tarridun. Both tribes lived in harmony for three thousand years. They built beautiful cities and quelled the uprisings of the native folk and became the dominant peoples on the continent.
The First Civil War
Then, in the time of King Sallen IV of the Vallkytes, there was an uprising by his cousin, Baron Telmar, who slaughtered the royal family to take the throne for himself. The Rogun King Valient III, outraged at this callous act against his distant family in the east, took up arms against the baron. So a long and bloody civil war ensued.
Valient’s’ only son, Prince Vanduke, died in the first battle against the Vallkytes, but he had three grandsons, Vanduke, Kasan and Hagan; these three Rawn princes won the war for their grandfather, killing Telmar and banishing his followers. Their grandfather, the king, was pleased and, to show his gratitude, bestowed many riches on them. To his heir, Vanduke, now De Proteous, Crown Prince, he expanded the Rogun land to beyond the Tattoium Mountains. To the second oldest brother and by far the most skilled warrior, Kasan, he gave the Princedom of the Vallkytes to control now that there was no royal family there to take the throne. Then, to the youngest, Hagan, he gave the smaller lands of Sonora and governance of its citadel, a very rich trading port.
The princes ruled well, and there was peace for many years.
Then their grandfather, now very old, died.
The Triumvirate of the Royal House of Cromme
It was Prince Kasan who started the rivalry between the brothers after the king’s death. He saw that he was ruling a kingdom and so crowned himself King of the Vallkytes and partook of their Rawn worship. This angered Vanduke, now King of the Roguns, and the first of that name. For he was really the only true heir to the Vallkyte throne, and he was enraged further by his youngest, and favourite, brother, Hagan, when he took offence to Kasan’s impetuousness and crowned himself King of Sonora.
The arguments of the three brothers were going to reach breaking point, and any forthcoming civil war had to be averted. So a delegation from the Ri Order, powerful Rawn masters and guardians of peace in the land, were sent to quell the tempers of the kings and to secure a peaceful solution.
It took many months of negotiations to come to a suitable agreement. In the end, Kasan and Hagan were allowed to keep their kingships and land, but only if they took demotion in their royal family and forgo any rights to Rogun titles and domain.
So, while Vanduke held power over all as the patriarch of the primary House of Cromme, King Kasan’s future family became known as the House of Cromme Secondur – the second House of Cromme. King Hagan of Sonora and his family became the House of Cromme Trecondur – the third House of Cromme. If any of the two younger brothers should die without issue, their kingdom would pass to the Rogun king and his heirs.
Part One
The Exiled Throne
“Kings my come and go,
Their thrones turn to dust
But honour and integrity
Are constant.”
Valient the Third
King of the Roguns
Chapter 1
Havoc De Proteous Cromme
The two knights fought viciously as they raced up the stairs to the palace library. Sparks from their swords gave poor light to the dimly lighted corridors. Their breath became hoarse in their dry throats as they struggled against fatigue in their exertions. The weight of the fine, laminated armour that they both wore slowed their movements. The sounds of the clashing swords echoed throughout the hallway as the knights crossed the threshold to the library.
The shorter of the two blocked a lunge from the taller and kicked him in the chest. His opponent stumbled against a long oak table and used his momentum to roll over it, scattering loose books as he did so. He barely cleared the table when the others sword cleaved it in half. The shorter knight summoned the fire element, and a red-orange flame appeared in his clawed hand. He threw it with a strong gale being it to give it the velocity he desired; his opponent deflected it easily with a slight angle of his blade. It shot across the library desks and crashed into a tall bookshelf, setting fire to the old parchments and spreading rapidly to the other shelves. A second ball of flame roared towards him and this time he fashioned a strong shield of hardened air and the missile changed direction to smash into more bookcases and bursting over the shelves contents.
The knights fought on as the fire spread, engulfing the neighbouring shelves, and encircling the combatants as their battle pushed them deeper into the library.
“You fool, Magnus of the lamebrain, did you think your petty Rawn powers could stop me?” asked the taller of the two in a deep, manly voice, if a little muffled inside the helmet.
“Nay, I have only just begun to wear down your defences, Evil Baron,” said the other as he deflected a lunge and counterstruck with a tight arc to his enemy’s midriff, but the taller nimbly blocked it with consummate skill.
Flames licked the high arches and burnt black the ornate woodwork on the ceiling bosses. Fire-weakened shelves toppled to the ground, narrowly missing the knights. Pieces of scorched paper, picked up by the intense heat, cartwheeled through the air, showering them in a black blizzard.
The library was thankfully empty, but if any normal observer were standing there, he would be quite safe from the flames, for it was, in fact, not on fire. He would also see two adolescent boys fighting with wooden swords and letting their imagination get the better of them.
“Why do I always have to be the evil baron?” asked the tallest, stopping in mid strike. “Is it because you always lose?”
“Rubbish!” said Magnus. “It’s because all the damsels always go for the better looking, of course! And nobody calls me lamebrain.” He stepped back a pace and saluted with his sword. “Defend yourself, Havoc.”
Havoc smiled at his half brother. Magnus was a year younger than Havoc’s thirteen years, and a clear head shorter. However, where Havoc was tall and slim, his brother broad shouldered and stocky, clearly good attributes for his ambitious desire to become a Carras Knight when he came of age, but now his stamina was lacking and he was breathing heavily.
“Now, where were we...? Ah yes, the library was on fire, I was going to save the princess, and you were about to die,” said Magnus as he lunged at Havoc.
Much as he liked these sparring sessions with his half brother, Havoc could not seem to get into the momen
t. Today was, after all, his birthday, and he felt, now more than ever, that he was getting too old for their continual role-play. Magnus’ attack was precise; he aimed for Havoc’s chest. Havoc simply sidestepped to his right, allowing his brother to over reach, and then he twisted around to his left and slapped the back of his brother’s neck with the flat of the training sword.
“Oww!” yelped Magnus, his hand shooting up to rub his neck, where he was sure he would have a bruise in the morning. “That hurt!”
“That’s because I’ve just cut off your head.” Havoc smiled. “Further to that, I will let your castle burn to the ground, and send the beautiful Princess Whatshername to my harem… Blah blah blah… Now, can we get some lunch, please? I’m starving.”
Magnus’ eyes lighted up at the mention of food, but he said, “Something tells me you are not in the mood for this!”
“I thought I was.”
“Oh, come on, it’s your birthday, and I’m trying to have some fun. Am I not good company?” asked Magnus as he prodded Havoc with the point of his sword.
“Yes, of course, it’s just that I have not seen father all day and I always see him on my birthday. He has been very busy of late.”
“I saw him, but that’s only because I’m his favourite,” chided Magnus as he danced around his brother.
Havoc, who knew of Magnus’ penchant for teasing him, ignored his last remark. His father was busy, and he saw him little these days, but a king has his duties to his people too, not just to his family, as he constantly reminded his sons. Although Havoc thought he could still make an effort today of all days.
Magnus’ last jab hit Havoc in the stomach.
“Will you cut that out,” said Havoc as he lashed out, but Magnus was too quick for him in this instant and deftly flicked Havoc’s sword from his grasp; it somersaulted three times before finally stopping in mid air.
“What!” Havoc exclaimed.
“It’s not me,” said Magnus.
“Ahem,” said a light voice behind them.
In the library doorway stood a tall, slim, imposing man with long, straight, silver hair, which looked out of place on such a young friendly face; he wore a white, hooded robe, symbolic of the Ri Order, and carried a tall, mahogany sword-staff with a wolfs head pommel.
“Ness Ri?” shouted both boys in amazement, but then instantly remembered their place when talking to this man. They both bowed and said, “Master.”
Ness Ri, Tutor Seneschal to the citadel’s academy and the Kings Consul, was also the boys’ principal teacher in the Rawn Arts, but he had been gone from the city some three months now, and this posed many questions to leap to Havoc’s mind. His master was, however, intent on Havoc’s wooden sword, which floated in front of them. A light breeze ruffled their hair and Havoc sensed elemental energy as the sword floated on a pressure wave created by the wind element. Ness Ri flicked his wrist and the sword disintegrated into dust. Havoc’s heart fell; it would take him hours to make another. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Magnus hide his sword behind his back.
Behind their master stood a shorter man with a pinched face and a light green tabard, the head librarian.
“Told you it was them, My Lord, being a nuisance again,” he said from behind the seneschal’s left shoulder.
“Yes, thank you, Tibben; I will deal with this,” said Ness and, with that, the librarian scurried off.
“Prince Havoc, Prince Magnus,” said Ness Ri; he nodded courteously to them as he used their correct titles. “You do know a library is for study, not for playing?”
“Yes, master,” they both mumbled.
Ness Ri paused to look at the boys. They had grown in the months he was away, that much he could see. Even Magnus, who was always shorter than his older brother was, seemed to be catching up. He looked at Havoc, tall and slim, standing straight, and always doing that unnerving habit of looking right into your eyes as you talk. His long hair neatly plaited into a prince’s ponytail, and held at the bottom with a golden cup that reflected nicely with his deep black hair. Occasionally referred to as good-looking by the serving girls who ran around the palace doing their chores, Ness knew his smile was always the most charming thing about him. Uncannily, he looked and acted like his uncle, King Kasan. Magnus, on reflection, was far better looking with his shock of blond curls like his father, but he was always scruffy and not nearly as intelligent as his brother was.
“We shall be continuing our lessons on the lawn this afternoon,” said their tutor.
Magnus started, “But master, we always have swordsmanship lessons with my Uncle Rett in the afternoon.”
“Master Rett, little one, will be busy for the next few days.” Lord Ness sighed; the term ‘little one’ was not to sound offensive or demeaning to Magnus’ stature, but merely used as a sign of affection from his master.
Havoc wondered why there was a sudden change in their curriculum. He had seen Lord Rett, the Red Duke, this morning in passing, and he had mentioned no change. It could be that his father had sent him on other duties. He was, after all, a Carras Knight, a close friend of his father and the kings’ champion. Who better to teach the boys in the arts of war?
“Where is he going?” asked Magnus, always the inquisitive one. Master Rett was his uncle on his mother’s side and his favourite.
“That is no business of yours, little one, now I have asked two page boys to move blackboard, chairs and tables outside from our classroom; go and give then a hand, Magnus.”
Magnus was about to say something else, possibly why he was sent on the task and not Havoc as well, but Havoc could see that their master’s usually calm exterior was now wearing thin, so he kicked his brother in the ankle and gave him a look that said ‘don’t argue, just go’.
Magnus walked out of the library, in a sullen mood.
“Oh, and little one,” said Lord Ness.
Magnus turned around and looked at him through his unkempt fringe.
“Put the sword back into your room first, before I turn that to dust too.”
Magnus walked off down the corridor swinging the sword from side to side and mumbling to himself as he went.
Lord Ness turned to Havoc. “I have just come from seeing your father. He requires your presence in your parents’ private apartments. You are to go there forthwith.”
Then there it was, the boy’s charming smile; he ran off down the corridor.
“I will see you out in the lawn when you are finished,” shouted his master after him.
The Rogun citadel of Aln-Tiss sat on the far western edge of the Aln plain. Split into three separate parts; the main part housed the palace grounds, which in itself separated into three sections, and this loomed over all on its shallow crag. The crag was once an ancient volcano now worn down by eons of weather, and peppered with tunnels and catacombs.
The palace itself was not really the main royal residence, mainly because of its public sector. This was, largely, the library and Rawn Academy, which was constantly flooded throughout the year by scholars and students alike. It also incorporated the fine art museums, garrisons and parliament chambers.
It was a well-defended site with its surrounding walls and archery towers on the very fringe of the crag. A steep half-mile road took the traveller down to a larger wall and the east gate, which was the main thoroughfare into the city. There also sat a smaller gate to the north that led to the tiny trading townships in the Sky Mountains, the highest mountains on the island that also formed part of the Tattoium ridge to the east.
The city itself sat to the south of the palace walls and comprised of three townships. Market-town was the closest to the palace. It had access to it through the south gate, also known as Market Gate. Market-town, the largest and quite possibly busiest area of the city, sat around a huge, cobbled square, where all the wares from livestock, cloth, grain, spices, fruit, and vegetables could be sold for a knockdown price.
To the south of Market-town, where the land dipped down to the sea, lay Ol
d-port. All the freight goods from all around the island came here on their monthly travels, delivering vast exotic goods to the warehouses along the wharves; this would then be sold to the traders of Market-town by the rich Burgh Lords who controlled the port’s trading franchise.
Old-port was, of course, the oldest part of the city, and the houses and people were some of the poorest, many folk scratching a living labouring for the Burgh Lords or working as servants for the richer noble class if they were lucky.
The noble classes lived in the last town of the city to the east of Old-port in their fine town houses. Most were barons and landowners, hence its name of Baronstown. Safely enclosed in its own walls, the new town had streets and houses cleverly laid out in a neat and organised plan. It also benefited from its own water supply from the Aln hills to the southeast. The other areas of the city had to share the fresh water coming from the Sky Mountains in the form of the River Mali. It was believed that the river formed into a water table under the palace crag, then it would flow out into Market-town and Old-port, and then into the sea.
The second section of the palace grounds was on a small isle just off the west coast. It mainly housed the royal apartments and royal gardens to the north and, because of the naval yards to the south, known since time immemorial as Naval Isle. Access to the royal apartments was via a tall, triple-arched bridge two hundred feet long, that started to the rear of the palace grounds on the mainland and went across to Naval Isle. The bridge’s road went under a huge archway, on top of which sat the apartments of the Rogun royal family. The road continued through this arch and out onto another triple-arched bridge that led to the third section of the palace, the Isle of Carras; there sat the garrisons and training grounds of the Carras Knights, the personal bodyguards of the king himself.
The Rawn Chronicles Book One: The Orrinn and the Blacksword: Unabridged (The Rawn Chronicles Series 1) Page 2