A E Johnson

by alice johnson

  Mord stopped walking, she looked towards the

  corridor, a small table with a pot plant was all that

  adorned the corridor. “That’s the kitchens, my lord.”

  Harris did not break his stare with the corridor.

  “Ha,” he said with an open mouth blow. “Thank you.”

  Harris broke his glare and looked back to Mord. “I

  hear we’re tasked with the same mission.” His smile

  grew and strange mood broke.

  “Mission?” asked Mord, she continued walking

  towards the corridor.

  Harris followed, with his hands relaxed on the hilt

  of his swords. “Librye, I’ve been given the task of

  protecting her and teaching her what I can.”

  Mord froze, she slowly turned to Harris, a wide-

  eyed look of rage met him as he stepped back slightly.

  “Teach her?” she asked with narrowing eyes.

  Harris stepped back; he held a hand up to her.

  “Nothing bad, I can assure you…”

  “Assure away, commander,” she warned.

  Harris stepped forward. “You know she isn’t your

  usual eight-year-old…”

  “She’s seven,” snapped Mord.

  “Seven then,” replied Harris, trying to calm her he

  stepped closer. “You know she needs all the help she

  can get, she’s a bloody clever one, I’ll give her that,

  according to Brenin, she is vital to this world, if his

  orders are to teach her to protect herself, then so be

  it.”

  Mord drifted towards Harris, a malevolent smile

  began to twist from the corner of her mouth. “It isn’t

  to protect her,” she softly said, “it is to protect others,

  from what she can do.” Harris narrowed his eyes, his

  lips began to part, wondering what she could do that

  would be worse. “She has powers, soon, you’ll know,

  never question her secrets she speaks of, soon, you

  will see the challenge you have been given, your duty

  of war, is nothing compared to your duty now.”

  Her warning sat heavy on Harris’s stomach. He

  did not quite know what she meant, but rather than

  question further, he wanted to find out in his own

  time. Librye was an enigma, Harris had a connection

  to her; both were raised in a palace, but their

  connection ended there, he wondered what else they

  had in common.

  As they came towards the old brown wooden door,

  Harris could not help but mention to Mord, “To keep

  your mind secure.” She turned to face him. “I know

  she is only a child.” His tender voice seemed to

  comfort her, she of course had heard stories of the

  commander, she too could see the appeal, but now in

  her seventies he was far too young for her. “I will treat

  her as such, you take care of turning her into a lady of

  the palace, I will sort out the rest.”

  Mord turned to the last door on the left. Her voice

  remained angry, although she had calmed slightly.

  “This is a temporary accommodation.” Taking the key

  from her pinafore, she unlocked the plain wooden

  door. “It’s a simple room, but as I say, it won’t be for

  long.” She opened the door for him to step inside, “it

  appears you’ve gained favour with Brenin; the unused

  east tower will eventually be your place of work and

  rest.”

  Harris laughed, “They’re one in the same.”

  Making his way inside, he could see that his few bags

  had already arrived. “Thank you,” he turned to her.

  Still, she seemed annoyed. “Mord, and please, call me

  Harris, I’m not a lord,” he flailed his arm up slightly,

  “and forget all you’ve heard about me.” He stepped

  into the room, the simple room did not seem much,

  but it was better than a woodland or stone floor. “I

  hate nothing more than having to explain away the

  rumours people have heard,” he turned to face Mord,

  “I assume you’ve heard many, being a chief yourself.”

  His eyes seemed to look through her.

  Mord gave a shallow nod, her lips parted. “How…”

  she struggled to find her words.

  “You have all the makings of a chief,” said Harris,

  before Mord could finish, “stern, honest, passionate

  and shows far too much compassion,” he said as he

  laughed, “always searching for something, weren’t you,

  Mord?” he asked as he faced her, he held his hands

  behind his back, sticking his chest out, he proudly

  knew he was right. “Most chiefs spend all their time

  searching for what will make them a commander,

  when all they have to do is be less kind.”

  “Hope,” she softly interrupted Harris, “I was

  searching for hope, some way of seeing that the war

  could be won, some way of finding a survivor.” Mord

  took a fleeting glance towards Harris before walking

  further into the room, she caught her hands at the

  front of her and stared towards them. “I was with the

  search, I never saw a single battle,” she laughed, she

  was embarrassed to call herself a chief. “I just wanted

  that one sign, that things would eventually get better.”

  Harris leant towards her; she broke her stare into

  her hands. “Did you find it?”

  “Yes,” Mord seemed awkward as she looked to

  Harris, “when I found Librye, the day I found her, I

  began my papers, I left the army the following end,

  and came here.”

  Harris was gobsmacked. “You found Librye? it’s

  strange how these things have a way of coming

  together,” he narrowed his eyes.

  Mord stood straight, her eyes met his, her lips

  softened, “Fate plays a big part in that girl’s life, let’s

  hope you are a part of it.” Mord turned towards the

  door. She looked to the few bags beside Harris’s bed.

  She could not help but laugh at his meagre belongings.

  “I assume you wear most of what you would have in

  those bags,” she looked to the armour Harris wore,

  the many daggers and swords, the expensive lizard

  skin armour, it spoke to her of a man who travelled

  light, afraid to finally settle anywhere. “I’ll see about

  getting you an advance,” she looked to Harris, and

  begged, “settle here, don’t hurt her, please,” she

  looked to the bags again. “I’ll leave you to unpack.”

  Mord began to leave, she paused by the door.

  “Assuming the rumours are but rumours,” she turned,

  “I’ll have a maid appointed to you.”

  Harris raised his brows. “A maid?”

  “The councillors all have their own maids, to fetch

  and carry, your task is much greater than theirs, it

  would be only fair.”

  Alone in his room he looked to the simple

  structure, a double bed, simple cotton sheets, a

  wardrobe to the wall at the foot of the bed, and a small

  chest of draws to the side would be enough for him. A

  bedside table and a large trunk at the end of the bed.

  Beside the wardrobe was a small washroom.

  “Oh, this is boring,” he sighed as he lumped down

  on h
is bed and looked around the poor state of the

  room. He laid back on his bed and stared at the stone

  ceiling above.

  The nights rest was enough to keep Harris well in

  the palace. With a hot bath and decent night’s rest, his

  promise to Branwen remained, he avoided the

  taverns, he had not even considered exploring the city.

  His eyes flickered as a sunbeam crept up his bed,

  the morning had brightened his drab room, the small

  window to the side allowed enough light for the day,

  the fire flowers provided a small light at night. As he

  raised himself in his bed, he heard a slight knock at

  the door.

  “One moment!” he called.

  He quickly dressed and opened the door. A lady

  stood before him, her long brown hair was platted and

  tied into a spiralling bun to the back of her head. Dark

  brown eyes glared towards him from her aging face,

  she held a look of aged beauty, she certainly was a

  handsome woman, in her youth she would have been

  staggeringly beautiful.

  “Good morning,” she said with glee as she burst

  into the room. Harris dropped his arm from the door

  and rolled his eyes. “I’m Maple, anything you need,

  feel free to ask.”

  Her offer was inviting to Harris. “Well, there is

  one thing,” he softly said with a widening grin.

  Maple continued placing any used clothes into a

  basket. “Not that.” She pointed to his armour.

  “Would you like that dealing with?”

  Harris flickered his eyes towards his armour,

  which lay in a heap on the ground. “My armour?” he

  asked with a stutter, “no one is to touch.”

  Maple wandered towards it. “It smells like dead

  horse and is covered with blood, get a hold of yourself,

  you can’t be wearing that!”

  Harris was baffled. He turned in the room. “Is

  there anyone in this place who doesn’t have the need

  to pick fault?” he asked as he sat at the edge of his

  bed, “fine,” he flailed his arms, “have it washed, but

  do not soak it!” he insisted as he stood, “it’s lizard

  skin, soaking weakens the fabric.”

  “I know that! I’m not new to this,” she continued

  pattering around the room. “There’s a cart outside,

  perhaps some tea would calm you.” Harris walked to

  the door; he was still stricken with confusion. “My

  husband always used to say, ‘tea solves many ailments,

  a bad attitude being one of them,’ now, what are your

  plans for today?”

  Harris stood with his cup, not wanting to offend

  Maple, who seemed far too outspoken for his liking.

  “I have no plans.” Taking a sip, he asked, “You said

  used to say? Is your husband no longer with us?”

  “Dead,” her voice spoke of sorrow, but her eyes

  hid the truth to her thoughts and feelings. “He was the

  last commander, before you took over in Marrion.”

  Harris slowly blinked; words seemed to be too

  hard to find. “Apologies,” was the only thing he could

  think of to say, “it took many good men and women.”

  “And still does,” said Maple, she was a well-formed

  woman, powerful in her own right. “That is why I will

  do whatever is needed to help you end this war, if that

  means cleaning your armour, then so be it.” She stood

  proud in front of Harris, she was a woman on a

  mission, and he could see it clearly in her eyes.

  Harris wanted to become acquainted with the

  palace as quickly as possible. Stepping from his room,

  all he wore was a black tunic, black trousers, and long

  black leather boots. He wore his usual harness strap

  with several of his daggers and a sword either side. His

  footsteps echoed around the corridor as he made his

  way through. Not a single sign of a councillor was

  there that morning.

  Coming towards the main hall he turned left,

  where he had seen the staff of the palace coming and

  going. Stepping into the kitchens, Harris saw the

  business of palace life. The staff were busy at work, it

  fascinated him.

  The kitchens were a delight to Harris, several

  windows surrounded the upper ceiling, two doors led

  into the walled garden and back patio of the palace

  gardens. A large wooden table in the centre of the

  room surrounded by wooden tables and an entire wall

  of ovens. The kitchens were as hot as a sweat filled

  Marrion summer, but it was the place where all the

  information from the palace seeped through.

  Harris proudly stepped into the kitchens; it was as

  though he had lived there for a lifetime, his arms were

  behind his back.

  “So, who knows what?” he asked as he looked

  towards Gethen. Stood in the centre of the large

  kitchens, an old rustic table stood proud in the centre,

  covered with flour, and rolling out his bread dough,

  Gethen looked up.

  Tilly jumped as she heard him speak, she was a

  small girl, but well versed in palace gossip.

  “Commander!” she called as she instantly bowed

  to him.

  “No need for that!” he laughed as he stepped into

  the kitchen, “it’s Harris, just Harris.” He was not

  shocked at her reaction having seen it increasingly

  more.

  The staff slowed what they were doing to get a

  glimpse of the commander they had heard so much

  about.

  “I believe you’ve lost your way, sir,” said Gethen.

  He dusted his hands on his apron and made his way

  towards Harris. “Our king’s chambers are up the

  stairs.”

  “Oh! I’m not lost,” smiled Harris with a

  wonderous tone, he was an instant hit with the ladies

  there who couldn’t help but stare, “you’re the life

  blood of any palace or kingdom, all I need to know is

  right here.”

  “Then take a seat,” invited Gethen as he pointed

  to a stool opposite his table, “finally, a commander

  who knows,” he mentioned as he walked back.

  Long into the afternoon Gethen spoke of the

  goings on in the palace. “Librye is a strange one, but

  you’ll get used to her,” mentioned Gethen.

  “She isn’t strange at all,” insisted Ana as she

  walked through with a basket, “it’s a pleasure to meet

  you, my lord,” she said with a short curtsy as she

  smiled at Harris.

  “Please, call me Harris,” he insisted, he gave a

  wink to Ana, as he had been doing for most of his stay

  there.

  Ana leant forward still carrying the basket. “I’ll

  scream it if you like,” she flirtatiously whispered.

  Harris burst with approval. His smile grew large.

  “Trust me, I’ll leave you speechless,” he flirted.

  With raised brows Ana made her way into the

  laundry on the right. “One can always dream, I

  suppose.”

  “As I was saying…” said Gethen, trying to pin

  Harris’s attention, “Librye, she isn’t one to be toyed

&nb
sp; with, it would see you fit to make friends with her,

  they’re calling her the child of the stars, says she’s a

  part of some prophecy, I don’t know.” He seemed

  oddly confused.

  Harris took a drink, he pondered for a moment

  before he asked, “Where is the prophecy now?”

  “Council halls,” said Tilly as she walked past.

  Harris watched her leave.

  “I need to see this,” said Harris as he stood.

  Calven walked into the kitchens, one of the stable

  hands. He suggested, “You’ll be best to wait until end

  of council, they like to hang around in there.”

  Harris nodded. “Thank you,” he said with a tight

  smile. As Harris stood to leave, he waited in the

  shadows by the door, just out of view of the staff there.

  The kitchens erupted with talk of the new commander

  Harris Bearwood. He could not help but give a wide

  smile as the excitement took over the kitchen. It

  always brightened his day to hear the excitement the

  commander would bring.

  Making his way up the stairs, Harris felt oddly lost.

  He was trying to get to grips with the different rooms

  of the palace, before he could continue, he saw Maple,

  leaving Brenin’s chambers.

  “You look lost,” she mentioned as she walked

  towards him.

  “I may seem lost but perhaps I’m found,” he said

  with a growing smile, “I’m simply getting acquainted

  with the palace, that’s all.”

  Maple continued towards him. “Maybe the

  chambers would be a good place to start,” she said

  with her brows raised, “that’s where your work starts,

  Harris.”

  Harris gave a twisted smile towards her; he

  narrowed his eyes. “I see you’ll be working me like a

  horse here.”

  Maple quietly said as she passed him, “And then

  some.”

  Harris laughed as he walked into Brenin’s

  chambers. “You certainly have some outspoken staff

  here,” he burst into the chambers, giving no mind to

  knock.

  “Harris,” celebrated Librye as she jumped up from

  the bottom step of the mezzanine, “I was coming to

  collect you,” she said with a jovial bounce towards

  him.

  “Collect me?” he asked as he looked to Librye and

  back to Brenin.

  “The eastern tower,” mentioned Brenin as he

  remained eyes down at his desk. “It’s in need of some