by B. C. Morin
He reached over, sliding his arms beneath the frail body and took up his father. Outside the doors there was a stone slab that hovered above the ground. He gently laid his father across it and took his place next to it. They walked slowly down the corridor and then down the stairs that were lined all the way to the doorway with mourning house staff and guards.
There at the door, he saw Alannah. She stood in a beautiful black dress that he had never seen on her before. Her presence relieved him slightly. As if with her there, he was able to handle all the things that had transpired in the last couple of days. He fought the urge to lunge himself at her, to lose himself in her arms. Instead, he simply raised his eyes to meet hers managing a nod. She knew that despite all that was transpiring, he wanted her there. He needed her there.
Once outside, Brennus was humbled to see that the entire kingdom had convened outside the castle in mourning for his father. They lined the steps and courtyards, careful to leave a path for the mighty King. Brennus followed the guards down the stairs and to the right of the castle. They walked along the walkway between the castle and the courtyards into a garden.
The garden consisted of maze hedges and large oak trees that Alannah had realized must have been Kings, Queens, or great Warriors of the past. There were not many, being that they were immortal, but there were those that died in battle, those that died of illnesses and those that had been poisoned. The crowd was sure not to follow Brennus into the garden but Alannah felt it was fine to walk into just the entrance. She watched as he got further away until the only thing she could see were the tips of the staffs that the guards carried, winding their way through the hedges.
Suddenly, they stopped next to a beautiful yellow Tulip Tree. She knew instantly that this must have been his mother. Aided by magic, a strong elegant oak began to sprout right next to the Tulip Tree. It was done. The King was gone and now Brennus stood to take his place.
* * * * * * *
The next few days were a blur. After the burial of his father, it was an endless number of meetings, discussions, and planning. Council members coming and going, his coronation and the introduction of his betrothed. The memory of Alannah at the burial and the coronation brought a pained smile to his face. Brennus was almost relieved to know that his betrothed was someone that he had known for most of his life. The daughter of the eldest council member, Galehot. But the relief was short lived as thoughts of Alannah threatened to never leave him be.
“Isibeal.” He said to the tall beautiful warrior fae that had entered the room. Her skin held a bit of an olive tinge to it. Her arms, bare from clothing, revealed her immense skill. The vest she wore clung tightly to her body forming a corset-like top which wrapped a small collar around her neck, and flowed off of her hips onto her black skirt.
“My King.” Isibeal continued until she was a mere few feet from the throne and dropped to one knee.
“You know we are well past those formalities.” He said, raising an eyebrow at her.
She laughed to herself.
“Perhaps, but you are in a different position, now.” She proceeded to stand, smiling at Brennus.
Alannah walked by the throne room, glancing quickly at Isibeal as she was shown in. Isibeal smiled at her. She knew who she was. Alannah was sure that the rest of the Kingdom had been informed of the situation with Brennus and herself. Isibeal’s smile surprised her, though. She was under the impression that the newly named betrothed would hold ill-will to her. Alannah smiled back hastily and continued walking toward the front doors of the castle, Anora following close behind.
Just outside the enormous doors of the castle stood a tall and well-built faerie. He had long, blonde hair that was almost white, an angled face, and a goatee whose color matched the hair on his head. His caramel brown eyes were fixed on her.
“Princess Alannah?” He bowed slightly putting his arm across his stomach. He was dressed similarly to most of the Warrior Fae, with a leather vest, and his weapons fastened tightly to his body.
“Yes, sir.” Alannah bowed her head in return.
“I am Master Jadoc.” His voice was deep and commanding yet not threatening. “I have spoken to King Brennus and he has told me about your unique power.”
She wanted desperately to ask what else he had been told, but refrained.
“It is a pleasure to meet you, Master Jadoc. I have heard much about you. I assume that when Bren-“She stopped herself and swallowed hard. ”King Brennus spoke to you; he advised you of the difficulties I have had recently when trying to use my powers?”
“Yes.” He walked over and stood next to her, motioning outward with his hand. Alannah quickly fell into step with his long strides. “We will be training on a daily basis. Of course, not all training will involve your powers. Much of your training will be regarding self control, energy manipulation, and other such basic things that will be the core of controlling your skills.”
They continued walking down a path covered in small wooden slats to a building whose entire front end was open. There were six steps leading up to the structure, but once they arrived at the top, they found nothing but smoothed wooden floors, and large wooden beams holding the roof in place. The area was large and was clearly used for training. She had never seen a training room such as this. Along the other three walls, she found tapestries, weapons, and scrolls. She saw a hallway that led to a matching home she presumed to be his.
“This is where we will meet every day.” He said motioning around the room. “Alannah. I am aware that you have had no previous training with the exception of some sword handling. However, I take my training very seriously. I push the limits of those I train and I expect you to give more than what you believe yourself capable of.”
Suddenly, Alannah realized why Brennus was the way he was. In this Kingdom, there was very little room for error.
“Yes, Master Jadoc.”
He smiled at her, his light brown eyes suddenly intense. “Let us begin.”
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Chapter 2
Evyette stood outside her tent, staring at the fire. She watched as the bits of flame and ash escaped to the sky. It had been days since they left the Kingdom of the Magi. She was grateful that there had been no attacks on her, but she knew that having the Magisters along with her had everything to do with that.
The last few nights of sleep had been brutal. Filled with dreams of what she might find at Caelestis and visions of the old woman she had seen in the Magi Kingdom the day before they left. Her only consolation was that Tristan was always there when she would wake from the nightmares. He had kept to his promise of not leaving her alone and had been sleeping in the same tent as her.
Tonight she watched as he slept. Peeking through the front of the tent, she kept the rhythm of the rise and fall of his chest for a while before turning away. She had kept him up the past two nights and realized how exhausted he must have been. She looked around the camp and saw the Magisters sitting outside their tents, talking. She was sure they had much to deal with considering that tomorrow they would arrive at their destination.
She looked over and saw that one guard was standing watch while the other slept. She had gotten to know them all in the past couple of days. When she could not sleep, she would wander outside of their tent and she would be stopped by either Ithor or Logres. A few times, she had asked them to tell her stories of adventures or battles and they had obliged.
“I should have known you would not sleep tonight.”
She smiled without looking back as Tristan walked up behind her and slid his arms around her waist, interlocking his fingers.
“I could not sleep and did not want to wake you.” She reached back and touched his face as he placed it on the top of her head.
“Are you nervous about Caelestis?”
“Yes.”
Tristan turned her around and she put her arms around him, laying her head on his chest. She breathed deeply taking in the smell of sage and the faint smell
of burning wood that she attributed to his fire abilities.
“Everything will be fine. We are sure to find answers.”
“That is what I am nervous about.”
The ride to Caelestis did not take as long as she thought, as it was only noon when they arrived. The town was surrounded by a stone wall covered in vines that had evidently been there for centuries. The lone village was quite run down, but it was obvious that many people still lived within its walls.
The group stopped first at a tavern that was near the front gates, longing for some ale and wine. The building had dirty stone walls and a thatched roof that was anything but straight. The double doors stood open, but not much light came from inside. Above them hung a smoothed wooden plate slat burnt around the edges.
“Double Sword Tavern.” Tristan said, reading out loud. “Sounds charming and inviting.”
Kaleb snickered as he took the lead.
They walked in to find a dark room filled with timeworn tables and chairs. The patrons at the tavern ranged from fae to Satyrs to Minotaur and others. Evyette’s eyes were drawn to a table in the corner of the room. They had just been served a round of drinks, but none of the creatures paid any attention to their beverages, as they all had their eyes on the new-comers. She could feel the gaze of the large Minotaur fixed on her, and although she tried not to look, she could not help it. No sooner did she glance over, than did the Minotaur lean over to the faerie next to him, whispering something that caused him to lock eyes on her, as well. She stepped closer to Tristan and grabbed his hand, although she knew he would much rather have kept it on the hilt of his sword. The Magisters motioned for Tristan, Kaleb, and herself to sit at an empty table nearby. The guards followed closely, and stood behind them as they sat. Magister Torin motioned for the guards to sit as well, but sensing a possible quarrel, they decided to remain standing.
The guards wore similar robes to those of the Magisters, only their hoods were not as long on the face, so as not to obscure their vision. There were markings all along the edging, and beneath the robes, the guards wore leather straps holding various potions, swords and daggers in place.
A satyr walked up to the table, careful not to get too close after noticing the guards had already grabbed the hilts of their swords upon seeing him approaching.
“You are a long way from home, Magi Faeries. What business have you here?” He glanced at the guards as he placed his hand on his own sword.
“We are traveling through and wished to stay a few days to rest ourselves and our horses.” Magister Torin responded to the satyr without ever lifting his head or looking away from the table. His lips were the only feature visible from beneath the shadow of his hood.
“We do not take kindly to those who come looking to disturb the peace of this village.”
“We have no plans to do such things, young satyr.”
The satyr looked at Evyette, who was now obscured since Tristan and Kaleb had leaned forward on the table in front her.
“There is nothing for you here.” He snorted as he tried to get a better look at her before walking away.
Tristan grabbed his mug and took a swig as he watched the brownies leave the rest of the drinks at the table and hurry off.
“I have the feeling that no one in here is going to jump at the opportunity to help us.”
Kaleb agreed before taking a sip, as well.
Tristan leaned in to talk to the Magisters but waited for the brownies to be out of earshot.
“Magisters, how will we know where to go or to whom we should speak?”
“Patience, Tristan. Judging by the reaction we have just received, I would think it prudent to take things slowly and be very careful who we speak to.” He took a drink of the pinkish liquid that sat in the goblet in front of him. “I was already told of an inn that we could stay at by the Pixie behind the bar. I suggest we make our way there shortly and discuss further plans once we have obtained our rooms.”
Tristan nodded his head as he looked around the tavern. By now, most of the patrons were no longer staring. There were only a few that continued to speak amongst themselves and glance over every once in a while.
The group stayed in the tavern for a while sipping their drinks, and for the most part, sitting quietly. Once they had all finished, they stood without a word and walked out the doors of the Double Sword Tavern, trying not to catch the eye of anyone there.
Once outside, the Magisters talked amongst themselves, regarding the instructions to the inn that the barkeeper had given them.
They all walked along the front walkway of the shops, the Magisters’ large capes billowing out behind them. Evyette watched the passers-by carefully as they all looked or stared at them. She stood close to Tristan, realizing that he was currently more comfortable with on hand on his sheath and the other ready to reach for the hilt. Kaleb stepped up to be on the other side of Evyette, and walked in much the same manner: prepared to take on any who approached with malice intentions. Evyette looked back, fearing that they had lost the rest of the party, only to realize that the Magisters and guards were but a few steps behind them, gliding with stealth like silence.
Evyette eyed the village hoping that some sort of memory would come back to her but realized that it was, for the most part, useless. She had only been weeks old when she was left at Meira.
She picked up her pace, walking a few steps ahead of the group. Her gaze locked on a small shop at the corner of the marketplace. It was run down and seemed closed, but it called to her nonetheless. Tristan and Kaleb picked up their pace to meet hers, never asking where she was going.
Evyette stopped outside the door and reached for the handle to find that it was locked. She peered inside through the dirty windows and saw half empty shelves with a few books thrown onto them hastily, and some potion bottles and ingredients, all of which had several layers of dust on them.
“It has not been open for many years.” The soft voice came from behind them. The small, old faerie stood behind the guards with her hands clasped in front of her, eyeing the group with trepidation.
Evyette walked towards her slowly, looking her over. She was tiny for a faerie, Evyette assumed she could be half pixie. She was about the size of a faerie child, her long grey hair falling down to her waist, the small lines on her face, the only indication of her age.
“I am Evyette.” She said bowing her head but never taking her eyes off of the faerie.
The faerie glanced at Tristan and Kaleb standing on either side of Evyette, then to the Magisters and the guards which stood behind them.
“They call me Rhoslyn.” She claimed, finally turning to Evyette and bowing her head slightly as well. She took a step back eyeing the guards once again.
Evyette noticed the fear in her and nodded to the guards to take a few steps back.
“You needn’t fear us, Rhoslyn. We mean no harm.” She took another step closer to her.
“What are you doing here?” Rhoslyn questioned. The old fae standing more firmly now that the guards had moved.
Evyette looked at Magisters Torin and Morcant wondering if she should tell the old fae that they were there looking for answers regarding her past or simply say that they were passing through as they had at the tavern.
Magister Torin took a step toward the old fae.
“You seem to ask a question to which you may know the answer to. Do you not, old fae?”
She looked at Magister Torin, giving a wry grin.
“Do not attempt to search my mind Magi. You will find it is well guarded.” Turning to Evyette once again; “Be careful the answers you hunger for, child. You just might acquire them.”
In a moment the old fae’s wings sprouted, confirming Evyette’s suspicion of her mix with a pixie as her wings were slimmer and more pointed than those of the fae. Rhoslyn gave a sly smile to Evyette, spun around quickly and was gone in a plume of dust and smoke.
The guards, who had quickly moved in front of Evyette, searched the surrounding
area but found no trace of the fae. Evyette looked at Tristan and Kaleb and then to the Magisters.
“Well, we are certainly in the right place.” Magister Torin spoke with a hint of sarcasm that none of them had heard before.
He turned in the direction of the inn and began walking.
* * * * * * *
Alannah managed to block his sword as he swung it overhead but was not able to react fast enough to keep him from slashing her shoulder. She looked over at the opening in her skin, warm blood running down her arm. The cut was deep and threatening, but she had to time to nurse it. Alannah whispered the spell that Master Jadoc had taught her to provide a quick healing, the fissure slowly coming together, and prickling pain running down her arm. Her gaze landed back on Jadoc.
Master Jadoc raised an eyebrow to her. It was not an apology. Merely a warning to be more careful.
She blocked him again and thrust her sword at him, but he gracefully slid out of the way. She huffed under her breath, careful not to let him hear as she slashed her sword at him again. Jadoc slid out of the way once more as if in a dance.
“That should be enough for today.” Master Jadoc walked toward the wall where he kept his sword. He grabbed the smooth wooden sheath from the table and slid his sword inside before placing it back on its hanging display.
Alannah tried to disguise her heavy breathing but it was to no avail. Every muscle in her body ached, yearning for rest, barely able to move. She was exhausted and did not understand how Master Jadoc showed no signs of tiring.
He turned to face her. She stood straight with her sword already in its sheath. Her legs were about shoulder width apart and her hands were clasped behind her back.
He smirked, proud that she had learned so quickly that he demanded attention and discipline during and after training.