A E Johnson

by alice johnson

  “now…news?”

  Maple, who had been clearing clothes from

  Harris’s room scurried from the door to his bed

  chambers. “You’re supposed to be teaching her,” she

  said in disapproval as she made her way across the

  intricate parquet floor. “This isn’t teaching, Harris.”

  “It’s what I used to do, Maple!” he called to her as

  she left down the stairs.

  Librye sighed, “There seemed to be some issues

  south of Thrasia, some kind of pestilence I think they

  said, also their obsession with Brenin getting a wife,

  seems to be working with Brenin now.”

  “Ha,” he sighed, he seemed uninterested as he

  glared to his desk. Breaking his glare, he asked,

  “Anything else?”

  “Bad news, Harris,” she sheepishly said, “the

  evening before last, letters to Marrion.” Harris looked

  to her; he was listening intently. “They’ve removed the

  Sonnin third,” her voice seemed to quiver as she saw

  Harris’s mouth curl down. “They began their return

  this morning, a mistake was made, the letter wasn’t

  supposed to be sent, following a vote at council, but

  the Sonnin third have left, Marrion is vulnerable.” She

  saw the look of horror on Harris’s face, she could see

  a slow rage building in him. “Are you alright, Harris?”

  “–I’m fine, I’m fine,” he repeated. “His look of

  anger broke as he looked to Librye. “What do your

  secrets say?”

  Librye shook her head. “Please, Harris, don’t do

  this.”

  Harris quickly stood. “Librye, tell me what they

  say,” he patiently insisted.

  “You’ll be needed in the hall, soon, Harris, the

  castle was taken, the council don’t know.” Harris shot

  from around the desk, he quickly ran to the back into

  his room, frantically he searched the room, gathering

  his armour. “There is nothing you can do,” said

  Librye as she followed him into his room.

  Harris turned to her. “I have to try!” he shouted,

  “you have no idea what is there, Librye,” he began

  placing his lizard skin armour onto his legs as he sat

  on the bed.

  “Harris,” she softly said as she walked towards

  him, she held his hand, he calmed. “They’re gone, the

  castle is gone,” she insisted. Harris calmed his breath,

  he did not know what to do, for the first time, he had

  no idea what to do, so he turned to the one thing he

  knew best, anger.

  He quickly rushed from the room and thundered

  down the stairs. Librye followed as fast as she could.

  The staff saw Harris and they felt his temper as some

  were pushed out of the way, others followed Harris

  and his display of fury. Mord began to follow at the

  side of Librye. Harris thundered down the stairs still

  buckling his swords.

  Evan, stood at Brenin’s door, quickly ran into

  Brenin’s chambers. “We have a problem!” he called

  to him. Brenin looked up. “The Commander, I think

  he’s heading towards the council hall.” They heard the

  doors to the hall slam open with a mighty boom. Evan

  squinted as he looked to Brenin. “Yep, definitely

  that,” he said as he nodded.

  Brenin shot from his desk and rushed towards the

  halls. Harris thundered into the hall; the end of

  council was just about to be called. Kailron was to call

  the end as he stood in the centre of the hall. Harris

  burst in; dust went flying from areas that had not seen

  fresh air in years.

  Harris stepped menacingly into the hall, Kailron

  remained silent as he stepped back.

  “Four thousand, eight hundred and forty-nine,”

  Harris calmly said. The council looked to each other,

  baffled. “Four thousand, eight hundred, and forty-

  nine!” he shouted as he spun in the hall. Council

  members began to mumble to each other. “That is

  how many you’ve killed today!” he screamed, he

  quickly made his way towards the centre of the hall

  and jumped with a single leap onto the table. Kailron

  watched, he stepped back with his mouth gaping.

  “Marrion would’ve been won, the third were the

  defences outside of the castle, but now, each and every

  one of you have killed them!” His voice showed his

  fury, his rage spilled into the room burning the air they

  breathed. “Marrion has fallen, the war has gotten a lot

  worse, because you can’t do your duties, the war was

  mine!” he screamed as he leant forward. “It was mine

  to deal with, mine to sort, yet you all, go behind my

  back, send your own orders, and have them all

  executed!” Brenin rushed into the hall to see Harris’s

  display of ferocity. “Each and every one of you, who

  played a part in that letter being sent, to call off the

  third, should be hanged for your crimes!” He jumped

  from the table and barged past Brenin, who remained

  at the door. Harris looked to Brenin as he stood at the

  door. “Are you going to tell her? Or am I?”

  Brenin furrowed his brow towards Harris, he had

  no idea such a letter had been sent. “Tell who, what?”

  he asked, calmly.

  Harris turned to the council halls, his glare of

  hatred towards them only worsened. “Branwen is

  dead, someone needs to tell Harelda, this council

  killed her daughter.” His lip curled with hate as he

  stormed from the hall and out towards the palace

  stables.

  The warm summer air seemed cold to Harris, he

  was followed by Balthus and Brenin, Librye remained

  with Mord at the top of the stairs, her terrified hands

  clung to Mord.

  “Come child, back to your room,” Mord softly said

  as she led Librye away from the drama in the hall.

  The gravel crunched under Brenin and Balthus’s

  boots as they tried to follow Harris. “Harris, please!”

  called Brenin in a deep tone.

  “Being hasty will get you killed!” called Balthus.

  Harris began to walk towards the stables to the

  front of the palace wall. “It’s always worked for me

  before!” he called as he thundered towards the end

  stable.

  From the stable Maple had already readied Svend.

  “I got him as soon as I heard, I remained on the

  stairs,” she softly said, guilt seemed to fill her voice.

  “Go quickly, Harris, and please forgive me.”

  Harris looked to Maple with his mouth gaping.

  “You have done nothing wrong, Maple, there is

  nothing to forgive.” Taking Svend’s reins he quickly

  mounted and thundered from the palace gates, with

  the hope of seeing Harelda’s carriage somewhere

  along the Sonnin pass.

  The news would not reach Cronnin for a further

  two days. Branwen still battled through the caves,

  heading east. As she struggled through the last set of

  dense caves, she saw tangled vines blocking the cave

  exit. Her hurried breath began to calm as she sat on

>   the floor of the cave. She did not want to look out, for

  fear of what she might find. She wrapped her arms

  around her knees, and cried, her hands were covered

  with the clay from the walls of the caves. Small cuts

  from the stone walls covered her hands, her clothes

  were now tattered and filled with the years of dirt

  which had settled there. She could still see Anna’s

  dried blood. Her stomach felt empty as she silently

  cried in the cave, the only clean part of her face were

  the marks of the tears as they flowed down her face.

  She did not have time to rest, she needed to find

  the Sonnin third. She quickly stood, with a sleeve she

  wiped her face and made her way out. The rustle of

  the vines as she pulled them back terrified her, fearful

  that the wrong thing may hear her approach. She

  slowly ventured from the cave, the ground was muddy

  below her feet, the cold night drifted past her as her

  eyes searched the scattered woods. She needed the

  inner most part of her nature to guide her, she was fey,

  and she knew nature. She looked to the trees at the

  side of her, slowly she placed her hand on the trunk of

  the tree and closed her eyes. She heard them, they

  told her where the army was. She continued through

  the scattered trees; the moon trickled a silver light

  onto the woodland floor. Her footsteps were silent.

  Her breath was calm. For the entire night, she walked

  through the woodlands, asking the trees as she walked.

  Finally, a smell of smoke drifted towards her, she was

  close.

  Harris thundered down the pass on Svend, a bolt

  of black was all that could be seen by those resting on

  the late-night road of the Sonnin pass. Finally, in sight

  was Harelda’s carriage.

  “Halt!” Harris called to the riders behind. They

  immediately saw Harris riding ferociously towards

  them. Dressed in nothing but a black tunic, black

  trousers, lizard skin leg guards and his usual daggers,

  with only one sword, they knew he had left in a hurry,

  the rest of his armour was missing.

  “Halt!” they called forward for the procession to

  stop.

  Harelda sat in her carriage with Grendel. Harris

  rode to the side, he leant down to the window.

  “Harris!” she called as she looked from the carriage,

  “what is the meaning of this?” she looked around

  panicked.

  Harris held a look of empty fear in his eyes. “I

  needed to tell you,” he jumped from Svend, he

  opened the carriage door, Harelda sat back, “I’m

  riding west,” a curled mouth showed his fear,

  “Marrion,” he softly said.

  Harelda widened her eyes, an empty feeling of loss

  began to take hold of her. “What happened, Harris?”

  her glare chilled him.

  “Harelda,” he quickly said, “my queen, a member

  of the council took it upon themselves to call the

  Sonnin third off,” he softly began, his hardened look

  began to show. “Librye, she has seen the castle fall, I

  ride west, to try and save her.” His quivering voice

  spoke volumes to Harelda.

  Her eyes began to shoot about the carriage, trying

  her best to take everything in, without showing fear, or

  rage. “She is alive, Harris,” she softly said. She looked

  to Harris; a look of desperation filled her eyes. “Find

  her, I have lost children before, I know the feeling,

  before their loss is felt, I would know, I know, she is

  alive.”

  “Commander!” called Grendel as he leant forward

  in the carriage. Harris looked around Harelda to see

  Grendel glaring towards him. “Tell me you have your

  kit?”

  “Of course I do, as always, a good alchemist never

  leaves without it,” a twisted smile from the corner of

  his mouth impressed Grendel. Harris gave a quick

  nod. He quickly mounted Svend and called, “On!” He

  turned his reins and rode as fast as he could, west.

  Harris did not care for armour, he had survived

  without it before, he did not need too many weapons,

  he just needed Branwen, safe.

  “It is something many people do not know about

  The Commander,” said Grendel as he sat with

  Harelda, attempting to calm her. “He is not just a

  common commander, he has the teachings of Thrasia,

  he knows alchemy, I would argue he knows more than

  me, if she has suffered injury, then there is no one

  better than Harris, he will find her, and he will bring

  her home.”

  Long into the morning he rode, as fast as Svend

  could carry, it was a true testament to his strength and

  endurance. Harris knew, if she had survived, she

  would have escaped into the caves, they were the only

  way out of the castle. He rode as fast as he could

  towards the Una forest, where he knew many of the

  caves came out. His plan was deep in his mind, he

  would not stop searching, until she was found.

  For days he rode, the terrain quickly changed, the

  dense woodlands and forests began to wither into

  grassy planes, the rivers became warm swamps. Svend

  rode towards the Una forest, the dense ferns lay

  restlessly among the scattered redwoods. The towering

  trees stood silent in the forest. Harris stood on the

  borders, the scattered silence helped him listen, he

  dismounted Svend, who quickly laid down, exhausted.

  “Stay here,” he softly said as he looked to Svend.

  Harris drew his blade. The blade on the leather

  was silent. Harris listened, he could hear the faint

  sound of muffled talking, the trees made it difficult to

  hear, but his hearing was his gift, it would take less

  than an hour to reach the voices. He quickly made his

  way towards the noises, creeping through the trees, he

  came upon a camp. As he wandered through the trees

  a guard stepped out.

  “Harris?” he asked, utterly confused.

  Harris looked to his side; his eyes were burning

  with rage. “Where is she?” he asked with a deep voice.

  Immediately the guard escorted Harris into the camp.

  The muffled whispers did not bother Harris. The

  army was shocked to see him there. Their

  commander, Lukas, stepped from his tent. Harris

  looked towards him.

  “Lukas!” Harris called. He quickly walked towards

  him, the fear and trepidation in Harris’s eyes were

  clear.

  “She is safe,” said Lukas, his brows were raised

  towards Harris. “But Marrion has fallen, she told me

  everything,” he sorrowfully said.

  Harris looked to the floor; his eyes widened

  towards Lukas. “Can I see her?” Lukas raised his arm,

  guiding Harris towards his tent. “She’s returning with

  me,” insisted Harris.

  Slowly he raised the door to the leather fey tent,

  the tent seemed small on the outside, but the magic of

  the fey provided a large area inside. Sat on a small

  chair on the left of the r
oom, Branwen was wrapped in

  a thick deerskin blanket.

  “Thank the gods,” sighed Harris as he stepped in.

  Her smile grew as she stood in disbelief, the

  blanket dropped as she ran towards him. “Harris!” she

  cried as she threw her arms around him. “I thought I

  would never see you again,” she cried. Her voice

  broke as she stepped back. “Anna,” she softly said.

  Before she could finish, Harris nodded with

  softened eyes. “I know, I know.” He held her close as

  she sobbed. “How did you find the caves?”

  Her voice was muffled through Harris’s clothes as

  she replied, “Lister, he saved me.” She broke her hold

  on him and looked up towards him, her tears burnt

  her eyes and face as she sobbed, “He’s dead, Harris,

  they’re all dead, they sent the gobgee, they took

  everything.” Her tears covered his tunic, still he held

  her close.

  Harris turned to Lukas, who stood beside them.

  “I’ll need some supplies,” said Harris, his raised brows

  towards Lukas spoke volumes. “She is my friend,

  Lukas, nothing more, we leave within the hour, her

  mother needs her home, a horse would help as well.”

  “We have spare,” said Lukas with a soft voice. He

  felt for Branwen, she was not used to seeing the horror

  both he and Harris had seen, she was an innocent lady

  of the palace, she had given her time to help those

  who were most in need, and they would both do all

  they could to ensure her recovery, just as she had

  done for countless others.

  The ride back to Sonnin was silent, her mind was

  filled with the screams of that night. Anna’s face

  plagued her mind, the last words Lister had said to

  her, echoed in her memory. The heat of Marrion

  began to fade as they finally made their way into

  Sonnin. The nights were silent, Branwen would not

  speak of what she had seen, Harris, already knew. He

  was glad she was alive, broken, but alive.

  The council meetings had been cancelled, until

  more was heard from Marrion. Each morning, Brenin

  still made his way towards the council hall, his throne

  seemed empty. He should have known; the council

  should have told him. Having received several

  messages from Harelda, Brenin needed to act.

  Kailron, was called into the council hall.

  Slowly, Kailron walked into the silent hall. His