A E Johnson

by alice johnson

  but by turning Atlanti troops from entire villages, they

  fear that which they do not understand,” he fell back

  in his chair and raised his brows, “I have saved more

  than it is healthy for you to know, my arrogance has

  saved many, and if they think me arrogant, let them, I

  couldn’t give a shit.”

  “Whilst I would enjoy being regaled by stories of

  your quest to become The Commander, I return at

  dawn,” replied Brenin. He seemed to know what

  Harris wanted, he wanted fame, power, but mostly, he

  wanted appreciation. “Finish off here, return upon my

  command,” he ordered. He was testing Harris, seeing

  just how well he could take orders.

  “As you command, Sire,” Harris bowed, his smile

  continued to grow. “I’ll see you soon.” His smile

  became crooked as he looked to Brenin.

  Brenin liked his new champion. He was honest, he

  did not hold back on his language towards Brenin, he

  treated him like he would treat any who came across

  his path. Harris was not one to stifle his words. His life

  had taken him on a journey of loss and torment, he

  had seen and caused enough death. He did want to be

  free from the war, but at the same time he knew that

  whilst the war raged, so would his temper.

  Their way back to Cronnin was met with shingle

  roads, empty and desolate. Many of the dwellings were

  now empty, the Atlanti threat had chased many from

  their homes. The farms were bare in many places.

  The wildlands of Cronnin offered a haunting look into

  their future, if the war continued, on an unfavourable

  path.

  “Do you think him worthy?” asked Afie as she

  glared from the window of the carriage.

  “He is very worthy, whether or not he complies is

  another question.” Brenin took a pipe from his

  trouser pocket.

  A staggeringly frightening glance was thrown

  towards him from Afie. “If you light that, it will be the

  last thing you do,” she warned. “I’m still unwell, and

  the stench of pipe weed is something I could well do

  without,” she affirmed. Brenin placed his pipe back in

  his trouser pocket, he would not push Afie, even as a

  king, she was still a frightening woman to him. “I have

  a doubt, Bubble,” her voice spilt with a sorrowful tone.

  “The people of Xencliff are known to be reckless,

  they are known to do as they please.” Her eyes drifted

  towards him. “Harris Bearwood isn’t just born of

  Xencliff, he is the embodiment of the place, he is a

  shining symbol of uncontrollable thoughtlessness.”

  Brenin sat back, he shook his head. “Why do you

  disapprove of him so forcefully?”

  Her deep tone spoke of warning. “Xencliff are

  simply volatile, most of the mercenaries are from

  Xencliff…”

  “He hates mercenaries, I saw the honesty of hate

  within him when he spoke of them.” He knew she was

  running out of excuses, and simply wanted to be sure

  he was the man for the job.

  She shook her head and quickly blinked. “All I am

  saying, is that Harris is much like Waron, his need for

  extravagance, his need to put on a show, let’s just

  hope, this isn’t just a show.” Her deep brown eyes

  glared towards the worried eyes of Brenin. He knew

  he was taking a gamble on Harris, the Xencliff shadow

  had made an impact, but now he would need to prove

  to an entire world, he was worthy of his title.

  “I am sure, beyond measure, he is the man for

  this,” Brenin tried to reassure her, knowing she had

  seen years of war seemed to tear at him, she was his

  maid once, she was the woman who cradled him when

  his father died in his arms, everything about Afie

  spoke of the mother he always wanted, he simply

  wanted her to live in a world of peace, before the

  otherworld greeted her.

  “Remember, Bubble, he is just one man, do not

  place the world on the shoulders of the weak.”

  Her warning was clear to Brenin, although he

  hated her secret pet name for him, he would only

  allow Afie to call him ‘Bubble.’ “He is an unusually

  large man; he can handle the weight of the world.”

  “I only hope you are correct in what you are

  doing,” she gave a softened look towards him, “I have

  a feeling that you will discover more about him than

  you care to know.” She held deep, dark secrets, but

  they would remain with her.

  Afie secretly hoped that Harris Bearwood would

  be the man to end the war, someone needed to,

  before she said her final farewell to the world, her age

  was not on her side, she had worked tirelessly with

  Brenin. The future seemed to grow a dark cloud,

  there was no light facing them, the only light Brenin

  seemed able to find was with a man who had lived as a

  shadow.

  The Cronnin palace had been in disarray for an

  entire turn, but something was coming to cause more

  uproar with the Cronnin council. The bitter old men

  watched a carriage arrive through the mighty gates.

  The turrets were swarming with guards as the carriage

  approached the main gate. The courtyard was teaming

  with the King’s Guard as they awaited his arrival. A

  guard stood at the carriage door, the door slowly

  creaked open. A small child stood at the door and

  awkwardly made her way down the steps.

  Her rags had been replaced with a simple cream

  dress, small black slippers now covered her feet, she

  was not used to wearing shoes. Her hair was neatly

  braided to the back of her. Her eyes filled with

  wonder as she tried to take everything in.

  She stared towards the towering palace in front of

  her, her mouth was wide open, her eyes drifted to the

  very top of the palace walls.

  “It’s so clean,” she whispered to herself, a bright

  wonderous smile covered her face, showing her bright

  white teeth.

  One of the councillors, Connor, stepped forth

  from the stone steps to the palace. His grey cloak

  almost tripped him as he scurried forward hunched

  over.

  Connor called out, “What is this abomination?”

  Uproar began as the councillors made their way

  towards the child. The chaos caused her to jump back

  in fear, she turned to the one thing she knew could

  protect her, she held her hand out, ready.

  They stood back, as a well-known face appeared

  from the carriage. Towering from the carriage, stood

  Grendel, alchemist to Queen Harelda of Sonnin. His

  tall grey figure and broad shoulders spelt of a mighty

  power of the ancient alchemists of their world, well

  known for his power, and friendship with Brenin, his

  clean grey beard and maddened blue eyes forced the

  council to stop where they stood.

  His deep voice greeted them, “Good morning,

  Gentlemen.” His smile grew as he stepped onto the

  gravel of th
e Cronnin path. Librye relaxed her arm

  and lowered it to her side. Slowly, she stepped back,

  hiding in the shadow of Grendel’s dark blue robes.

  Connor stepped forward. His eyes were wide, he

  bowed towards him.

  “Lord Grendel,” he greeted with a quiver in his

  voice. It was well known to Grendel that Connor had

  often been guilty of starting difficulties he could not

  finish. “What brings you here?”

  Stepping from the carriage, Grendel towered

  above them all, his unusual size was intimidating to

  them. The fey would usually be smaller, but Grendel

  was not all fey.

  Grendel’s voice was filled with mystery and charm

  as he replied, “I have come to deliver a gift,” he leant

  towards Connor, “she is far from the abomination you

  so claim, hold your words, councillor, else I will be

  forced to place them back in your mouth for you.”

  Grendel quickly made his way towards the council,

  Librye followed beside him, her glances towards

  Grendel comforted her, knowing she would not be left

  alone.

  “Who is the child?” councillor Adamar abruptly

  asked, his pale face glared down towards Librye, a

  bold head almost reflected the light of the sun.

  Grendel lovingly looked towards Librye. “This is

  Librye.” He raised his arms to his side and held his

  palms up as he announced, “She is to live here, with

  you, as the kings ward.”

  “Outrageous!” called councillor Omar, he flailed

  his heavy arms in the air while stepping closer. “He’s

  said nothing of this!”

  “Well,” said Grendel, his mouth pulled down,

  “you know now.” Making his way towards the steps,

  Librye quickly followed remaining in his shadow. The

  council scuffled their way behind him.

  The mighty doors opened, Librye looked up to

  the towering beauty, her head spun around the sight in

  front of her, it seemed too good to be true. As she

  looked down towards the towering fountain in the hall,

  she saw a woman holding a basket of clothes, Mord.

  Such a small child had caused a horrendous

  uproar. The council followed Grendel as he made his

  way into the council hall.

  Suddenly he turned to Librye who followed. “Wait

  here, Little One,” he said with a soft voice. The doors

  slammed closed. The girl stood, baffled and

  overwhelmed by the size of the palace. Silence struck

  her as she quietly turned in the halls, the odd few

  sounds of rustles from the guards stood as statues was

  all she could hear.

  Making her way towards the small girl, Mord

  placed the basket on the rim of the fountain; slowly

  she walked towards the confident girl. She leant down

  slightly and turned to the side. She did not want to

  startle the girl.

  “My name is Mord, what’s your name?” she asked

  with a wonderous tone.

  Librye turned; an enchanting smile covered her

  face. Her battered clothes saddened Mord. “I’m

  Librye,” she replied, she turned to face Mord, “I don’t

  know what’s happening.” She shook her head and

  raised her brow, “has Brenin returned yet?”

  Mord was shocked at her linguistic skills, for a

  child so young every word was perfectly pronounced,

  her manner was like that of a small teen child. Mord

  stood up straight. “He should be arriving soon, he’s

  been in Marrion,” she softly replied, “he will be back

  before Seooer, he likes to take his time.” Slowly,

  Mord began to walk towards the fountain, Librye

  followed. “He will be back before the end of the turn,

  or at least I expect, the roads are dangerous, but he is

  safe.”

  “I know,” said Librye, she held a very sure tone.

  Mord furrowed her brow but did not ask any more.

  “He should be home soon. The weather is fair.”

  Her strange attitude captivated Mord. “I take it

  you’ll be staying for a while; I can show you to your

  room if you wish?”

  Librye was intrigued. Her eyes began to widen

  towards Mord. “I have a room?”

  Mord smiled as she led Librye up the stairs.

  “There are many rooms in the palace, I think I can

  find the perfect one for you.” As they came to the

  landing, she took her towards the east wing. The

  towering walls in the palace engulfed Librye as she

  followed Mord. Coming towards the second door,

  Mord took some keys from her pinafore. Unlocking

  the door, Librye stepped inside.

  A shower of blue and green fire-flowers cascaded

  from the ceiling as she stepped in. Pale green walls

  surrounded, a huge double bed on the right, adorned

  with silk green sheets, a thin drape cascaded from the

  window, where a small round balcony overlooked the

  gardens and city beyond. To her left, a small

  washroom, beside it, two towering doors; opening the

  doors, the room was empty.

  “I think we’ll need to get you some new clothes,”

  said Mord as she stood behind her. The

  overwhelming look of joy on Librye’s face warmed

  Mord. Librye was not used to extravagance, she had

  never seen anything as beautiful, apart from the

  peaceful world of the forest. Her heart thudded in her

  chest from excitement.

  Having seen the kingdom’s treasurer, Mord and

  Librye spent the day in the large city. Quality silk

  dresses, linen pinafore’s, velvet cloaks, woollen

  jumpers and leather shoes and boots were all things

  Librye were not used to. The dirty, itchy rags she wore

  would soon become a distant memory. Librye had

  arrived at her new home.

  She was soon noticed in the palace. The Unknown

  Girl was already creating talk in the city of Cronnin.

  Their king was eccentric, but this seemed strange,

  even for Brenin. Farhope was not the first village to be

  taken by the Atlanti. Librye had been born as a

  symbol of hope, and now, as she skipped about the

  palace, trying to find her place in such a big world, she

  continued to bring hope to the palace. The council

  ignored her, but the staff were drawn to her. Librye

  did not try to make people like her, she was instantly

  an enchanting wonder.

  The kitchens had become a particular favourite of

  hers, having eaten with the staff so many times, she got

  to know them personally. From Gethen, the head

  chef, who had no wife or children, opting to adopt the

  kitchen staff as his family, even Mord, who was new to

  the palace but still took it upon herself to act as though

  she had been there for years. Even the stable hands,

  Calven and Rowan, who would often bring wildflowers

  from the meadow for Librye to tie into her hair.

  Rebecca, she was strange to Librye, she always seemed

  to hook herself into conversations searching for the

  latest gossip. She had a family now, and she finally

  knew what love and belonging could feel
like.

  Chapter Four Dangerous.

  he new moon had passed. The weather

  remained fair as they journeyed north east,

  T back towards Cronnin. Towering trees now

  lined the roads, the red rocks of Marrion were far

  behind them. It was a dry autumn, the usual smell of

  rotting leaves gave way for a fresh smell of earthy dust

  and chimney smoke in the crisp, fresh air.

  Journeying back, the guards had been fully

  entertained by the arguments from the king’s carriage.

  Afie believed that Brenin was being hasty.

  The Cronnin palace had heard a plethora of

  slamming doors. The councillors scurried, as quickly

  as they could, through the halls, trying their best to

  avoid Librye. The council had seen guests from all

  over Cammbour. The mabeara always opted for a

  lavish stay, the lords of the North and South, seemed

  to enjoy a more affluent visit, the council were used to

  entertaining them, they were not used to entertaining a

  child.

  Her rags were now replaced by flowing dresses,

  silk shoes and velvet shawls. Her new home had also

  provided her with a sense of need, she needed to

  belong there. Followed constantly, Librye’s favourite

  pastime was asking the council members questions.

  “Why are you wearing those robes?” she asked

  Connor as she followed him through the mighty hall.

  “Because I do,” was the confused reply of Connor

  as he quickly escaped into the council halls, slamming

  the door behind him.

  “How old are you?” she asked Devon wandering

  towards his room, having been followed from the

  council hall.

  “I’m one hundred and ninety-four, not that it’s any

  business of yours,” he sneered, again a door slammed

  in her face.

  ‘What happens in the hall?’ ‘Do you have a hat?’

  ‘How many people live here?’ Why are there so

  many?’ ‘Do you like wolves?’ ‘How does weather

  happen?’ Were but a few of her strange and annoying

  questions. Doors slammed in Librye’s face constantly

  as she awaited Brenin’s return. Mord had seen - on

  many occasions - as Librye asked and got no answer. It

  fuelled Mord’s hate of the council, they had no

  understanding of children, or anyone for that matter.

  Mord watched her closely. Librye was safe in the

  palace, the ever-watchful guards were sure to keep an