A E Johnson

by alice johnson

  an undertaking, your ambition is clear, proof is what

  we need now.” Her reply was harsh, but fair.

  He could sense a desperation in Harelda, her need

  to end the wars had plagued her throughout her time

  as queen.

  “This war will end, our armies will end it, you’ll see

  it in your lifetime.” His promise was a heavy one.

  Harelda shook her head. “I can only hope you’re

  right,” she raised her head, “I wish to see you at the

  end of Nean, for an update.”

  Harris stood as Harelda stood to leave. A smirk of

  doubt began to show. “I could write you.”

  Harelda turned, her eyes lowered towards him.

  “You do not wish to see me again?”

  Harris stood back; he gave a laughing smile of

  embarrassment. “I apologise, your highness, the end

  of Nean it is.” His agreement was met with a

  coquettish smile from Harelda.

  Librye waited for Harelda to leave. “I think she

  likes you, Harris,” she commented as she looked to

  Harris.

  Harris’s eyes remained fixed on the door as she

  left. “That’s what concerns me,” he softly replied.

  Librye seemed confused with his comment. Harris

  turned to give a comforting smile to Librye, he noticed

  something strange as he looked towards her. Slowly,

  he walked to her, Librye held her head back as Harris

  glared towards her. “What?”

  Harris whispered, “Your eyes, Librye, is there

  anything about you that isn’t different?” He noticed

  her smile drop, she seemed upset with his comment,

  “you’re staggeringly beautiful, Librye, only, your eyes

  have changed colour, I could’ve sworn they were blue,

  today, they’re my colour,” his mouth remained gaping.

  “They change each day,” Librye explained as she

  sat back down. Harris stood. “As does my hair.

  Harelda told me my eyes change with the days, every

  day is different, my hair changes with the seasons,

  soon, you’ll see.”

  “Ha,” Harris huffed surprised. “So, nothing

  normal then, it just proves, normal is boring, you’re far

  from normal, and you’re far from boring too.”

  His day’s working was spent in Brenin’s chambers,

  while Brenin took council. Having had his workload

  almost removed, Brenin finally had more time to

  spend with Librye. Their days spent in the gardens

  made him feel young again. His brave little Librye did

  not seem to care for the night-time darkness as it

  drifted into the woods. The days were longer than the

  nights, as the height of summer took over the bustling

  town of Cronnin.

  The Onmidden celebrations would be a true test

  of control for Harris, usually his way of celebrating

  would involve women, a lot of women. Instead of

  celebrating, with the many women of the taverns -

  whose frustration was beginning to vex them at the

  thought of meeting Harris - he began the first of five

  celebrations, writing.

  A spare moment for Harris was rare. With Librye

  busy and Brenin in council, he wrote to Branwen, for

  the first time since arriving in Cronnin.

  ‘Branwen, I am lost, the palace has provided a

  place to sleep, a place to rest, but it is not my home, I

  left my home in Marrion. I only hope you’re safe and

  well. I have thought of nothing but returning to

  Marrion, in the hopes of whisking you away to a far

  distant land, where rules don’t apply, but Xencliff isn’t

  really the place you’d wish to be.’

  Even in his writing, his humour was hard to hide,

  he wanted to tell her he loved her, but he did not want

  to give her false hope.

  ‘I look forward to seeing you soon, in the palace of

  Cronnin, for now, rest well, and please, return safe.

  Always yours, The Commander.’

  Before entering the city to join the celebrations,

  Harris made his way with his piles of letters, towards

  the west tower. The stone floor seemed noisy with his

  footsteps as he made his way towards the pigeon loft.

  He hesitated, in his right hand he carried the scroll,

  addressed to Branwen, Marrion. His eyes looked

  around the empty corridor, his hand was shaking. He

  took the parchment and crushed it in his hand, he

  quickly tucked it into the pocket of his trousers and

  continued his way towards the loft.

  Back in Brenin’s chambers, Harris awaited the call

  of the bells from the south tower, to mark the

  beginning of the Onmidden celebrations. He took the

  parchment from his pocket and placed it to a candle,

  throwing it down into the fireplace, he watched his

  words burn. He wanted to send it, but he knew the

  misery it could cause, if anyone ever found out.

  The city outside began to light with colourful

  banners, cheering began as the palace guard rolled

  hundreds of barrels of ale, the gift for the people of

  the city to help them celebrate the coming harvest.

  Drunkenness took over the city, whilst it was a

  time of celebration, the city guards could not

  celebrate, most of their work involved breaking up

  fights. Harris used to love Onmidden, it was a chance

  to have an unprovoked brawl, to let out some anger on

  some unsuspecting drunk who probably deserved it.

  This year, the celebrations seemed to wither, he knew

  that Xencliff would usually display a much different

  side, in Cronnin, the noise was there, the smell of ale

  as it filled the streets, the shouting, screaming,

  laughing, all seemed silent to Harris.

  He had chosen a bar close to the palace, for the

  entire night, he sat, he drank, he even tried to laugh

  with the locals, the bar was a dark place of drunken

  fun, a few fights were easily separated with the help of

  the city guard. Harris could not laugh, he felt guilty to

  have fun and make merry. A warm bath and early

  night were the start of his celebration.

  “Have you heard from him at all?” asked Anna,

  stood in her new chambers of Castle Marrion, she had

  just returned from a two-day battle, the next was set for

  the following morning.

  “Not so much as an empty shell,” replied Branwen

  as she sat at the desk, where Harris would sit for hours

  at night, figuring out his move for the next day. She

  swirled her finger over the raised wood on the desk. “I

  could understand if I’d received a shell, but nothing, I

  know the pigeons are often taken down by falcons, but

  surely he would’ve sent a letter, or note, by falcon?”

  Her eyes drifted around the desk. The candle wax on

  the desk had melted a pool surrounding it, all left by

  Harris, in his attempt to save Marrion.

  Removing her armour and chains, Anna could not

  help but notice Branwen had not been coping well

  with the commander’s departure.

  “All I’ve heard is the orders from the council that

  the third return, it certainly wouldn’t
be Harris who

  gave the order,” it was a fleeting thought for Anna. She

  could see the look of loss Branwen constantly carried.

  “Could I ask you something, Branwen?” she stepped

  closer to the desk, her crude cotton undergarments

  showed the scars she too carried, they were worse than

  Harris’s scars. Slowly, Branwen looked up. Anna

  slowly sat on the chair where Branwen would sit for

  hours and talk to Harris. Anna reached across the

  desk and took a small balm which Branwen had made

  for her, to ease muscle aches and pains. “I feel like

  we’ve become close since Harris left,” she began

  rubbing the balm on her leg, “but I feel that is only

  because you can’t leave this room.” She sat up straight,

  Branwen’s eyes seemed to drift about the desk, with

  the odd few glances towards Anna. “Branwen, did you

  love him?” Branwen looked to Anna, a threat came

  from her eyes under her brows. “I know you’ve said

  you do, but there are different kinds of love, I love

  Harris, but you seem infatuated with him.”

  Branwen gave a loud sigh. Sitting back in her chair

  she glared towards Anna, her glare lasted no more

  than a few seconds before she broke.

  “I can’t do this,” she sighed as she hunched

  forward, she placed her head in her hands, “how can I

  do this?” her words muffled in her hands before she

  lifted her head. “I can’t go back to Sonnin, knowing

  what I know now.” She shook her head as she sat up.

  Anna raised her brows as she sat back. “It’s a hard

  choice,” she took some more balm and began rubbing

  her arms, “I can’t imagine how it must be for you.”

  Anna held sincere sympathy. “I know I’ve had my

  moment with Harris. He makes a wonderful friend

  though, one of the best I’ve ever had,” she slowly

  stood, making her way towards the window, she

  collected a robe on her way, “I know, if I ever need

  anything, he will always be there, like many in this

  camp.” Anna looked from the window.

  Branwen stood, she slowly walked towards her. “I

  just think, someone needs to be there for him.”

  Anna looked to Branwen. “He is Xencliff,” she

  softly said with a deep tone. “Xencliff believe they

  need no one, they are hardened, Harris took it one

  step further and became a walking hard on,” she said

  as she laughed.

  Anna turned her back to the open window, a soft

  breeze drifted in. “Perhaps, you can love him from a

  distance, it doesn’t take the physical, be the person

  who always looks out for him, you can’t be together,

  but friends can love each other.”

  Branwen gave a loving smile to Anna, their talks

  had helped her vastly as she awaited her orders to

  return to Sonnin.

  “Anna!” she heard a scream from the mezzanine

  outside the door, Branwen turned, Anna remained by

  the window. “Anna!” They again heard the calling.

  “In here!” called Anna still stood by the window, “I

  swear this place will be my death,” she laughed. Her

  face turned cold, a look of pain slowly began to form

  on her face, her brow wrinkled in the centre of her

  forehead. Branwen stepped forward, not knowing

  what was wrong. “Run!” she whispered. Anna gave a

  scream of pain as an arrow passed through her

  stomach, another passed through her shoulder, a

  barrage of arrows began to hit, her calls were silenced

  as one passed through her forehead.

  Stood in trepidation, Branwen’s hands were

  shaking as she looked to them, her clothes were

  covered with blood.

  Her screams were silent as she ran to the door.

  The Castle Marrion was swarming with gobgee. The

  despicable creature tore through the soldiers with bare

  teeth, nothing but a loin cloth covered them. The

  gobgee swarmed the courtyard, the army was trying

  their best to hold them back, their numbers were

  thick, they seemed to pour through the gates, a black

  wave of death had hit the castle. Branwen frantically

  searched for a way out. The entire castle was filling

  with gobgee. She ran towards the bridge to the left of

  the mezzanine, into the heart of the castle. Her

  panicked eyes kept looking back, the smell of flames

  began to fill her nose. Screams from the terrifying

  creature filled the air, she held her hands against her

  ears, trying to drown out the horrifying sounds of

  screaming and snarling.

  As fast as she could Branwen ran through the

  winding corridors of the dark castle. Her feet pounded

  up the stone stairs towards the high turrets. Before she

  reached the turrets, Branwen was caught around the

  waist. Her mouth was covered by an unknown hand,

  screaming, and kicking Branwen could not calm,

  screaming as loud as she could she hit out, her arms

  were caught by the wrists, she was forced to turn. The

  face of Lister glared towards her.

  “Follow me,” he whispered to her.

  She gave a breath of relief and calmed. “Thank the

  gods it’s you,” she followed Lister down the corridor.

  For a moment, as she felt the hands, she thought it was

  the Atlanti, there to finish her. Her thoughts were

  constantly with Harris, what would he do, how would

  he act, what his plan would be, her questions came up

  empty, she did not know what to do as she followed

  Lister through the dark hall and down towards the

  kitchens. As they made their way into the kitchens,

  half the staff lie on the floor, limbs and heads lay torn

  from bodies. Stomachs were torn open, every manner

  of bodily fluid oozed on the floor. She followed Lister

  to the back of the kitchens.

  “Where are we going?”

  Lister came to the back cupboards in the kitchens,

  his eyes were searching the room. “It’s how Harris

  managed to get the vitriol into the caves.” He took

  Branwen by the shoulders, holding her firmly he

  warned, “You follow the caves, head east, it will bring

  you to the Una forest, keep going east, you’ll see an

  army, they left this morning, heading towards the

  eastern pass, if you go now, you will see them, go, go!”

  he forced as he opened a cupboard door and snuck

  her through. She saw the shadows in the hall towards

  the kitchens, screams became louder as the creatures

  scurried towards them.

  Branwen looked back. “Come with me,” she

  whimpered.

  She could see the look in Listers eyes, he was not

  ready to die, but he always needed to be ready to fight.

  “You need to tell them what happened here, the third

  was called off this morning, by the Cronnin council,

  tell them what they have done, tell them, they killed

  me.” He pushed her into the door and quickly closed

  it. Branwen thudded against the locked door as she

  stood in the darkness of the tunnel, the door would

  not op
en.

  Panicked, she followed the cave, east. Her clothes

  were still filled with Anna’s blood, her hair was now

  ragged and torn from her bun, sweat covered her brow

  in the hot tunnels and caves. She grabbed the front of

  her skirt and ran as far and as fast as she could. The

  tunnels were dark, echoes from the chaos outside

  began to dull as she ran further from the castle. She

  did not know which way she was going, she followed

  the main vein of the tunnel, ignoring the tunnels to the

  left of her, she kept going east.

  A feat of engineering had seen the east tower

  transform. A separate room to the back now served as

  Harris’s sleeping quarters, his chambers to the front

  took over the rest of the tower. His routine was noted

  by most. Each morning he would make his way from

  the tower towards the main hall, being sure to collect

  Librye on the way. Together they would venture into

  the city where Harris would collect his daily

  sweetbread from the bakery, the sweet pastry had

  become a favourite of his. He would often struggle to

  get back with Librye as many from the city wished to

  know more about them.

  Upon arriving back, the two would make their way

  towards their tower, where Harris would settle for the

  day at his desk, and Librye would settle for the day

  above the dusty rafters. The days were an unending

  battle for Harris, his time in the palace was laborious

  to him. The only part of life he enjoyed now were his

  talks with Librye as she emerged from her wall to

  deliver her news, talks with Brenin and his time spent

  in the kitchens with the many staff. He was missing the

  adrenaline of battle, the slow breath it took for him to

  face fate, he was missing his freedom, away from the

  politics of council, whom he had so far managed to

  avoid.

  Emerging from the tunnels of the walls, Librye

  made her way towards Harris’s desk.

  “What news?” he asked as he placed his quill

  down to listen.

  Librye seemed somewhat shaken. “It was boring,”

  she moaned.

  Harris could not help but laugh. “Come on, you’re

  helping me.”

  Librye raised her brow, she said with a low tone,

  “It’s worth at least one new dress.”

  “Agreed,” replied Harris with a low nod,