trousers, black boots, and a red cape, she stood to the
side of the gates carrying a large brown leather bag,
waiting for a guard to approach. Harris saw her waiting
and asked, “Can I help you?”
“No,” she abruptly replied, “I’ll await the guard.”
She looked Harris up and down, he found it rather
odd that she was so abrupt. He looked to her cloak, it
carried the emblem of a dove, a currier. “Where are
you arriving from?”
She looked through the gates to see the guard
approach. “Bourellis,” she dropped her uptight
attitude as she stepped towards him.
Harris widened his eyes. “Sent by Bushwell Oris?”
“That’s, King Bushwell Oris, and yes,” her raised
brows dropped. “How did you know that?”
“Harris,” he introduced as he gave a custom
welcome. She too gave a customary welcome. “Harris
Bearwood, High Chief Commander to King, Brenin
Oakwood,” he slowly said, “I’m also the one who will
ultimately receive the package.”
A guard stepped towards the gate. “Oh, Harris!”
said the guard as she stepped towards the gate, “much
better,” she said with a wide smile. Harris’s smile lit.
“For a moment there, I was starting to think you were
trying to look like the arse end of Svend,” she mocked
as he stepped into the gate. He turned to the currier
and took the leather bag.
The chambers were thick with Brenin’s pipe
smoke. Harris lumped the bag on his desk. Brenin
was nowhere to be seen. He looked to the guard on
the door. “Where exactly is our attentive king?”
“Librye,” he awkwardly replied. Harris grabbed
the bag and ran to her room.
Librye was in the throes of another episode.
Passed out in her bed, her head was wet with sweat,
her skin was almost a pale blue, her lips seemed to go
the colour of an unripen plum.
Harris placed the bag on the bed. He looked to
Brenin, sat holding Librye’s hand. He pulled a letter
from the bag his eyes frantically searched the letter.
“Fuck, Brenin,” he dropped the letter down. He
held his hand to his head. “It say’s in this if we don’t
slow it, she will die.” Brenin stood and snatched the
letter from him to confirm. Harris searched the bag.
Several vials of blue liquid were in there. He took one
and tried his best to pour it into her mouth.
“What are you doing?” asked Brenin panicked.
“It says on there, this should slow it down, we have
a few turns to get her to Bourellis, she needs to be
there, Brenin.” Harris stood straight. He could see the
look of doubt Brenin held. “What is the point in
changing the law, if she will be dead before your son is
even born?” Brenin glared towards him, a rage filled
his eyes. “Don’t, Brenin, I’m warning you, don’t be
selfish, she needs to be with the torbs, there is nothing
we can do here, holding onto her will only make this
worse, she is destined to marry your son.” His voice
softened as he stepped around the bed. “You know
what the prophecy spoke of, Brenin, you are to be a
father, Librye will one day be your daughter, but for
that to happen, she needs to be alive.”
Brenin seemed to melt as Harris came closer. “I
like your hair,” he said with a pouting lip, “I know
you’re right, Harris,” he walked closer to him, “you
always seem to be right, I should listen more, but we
will take her, both of us, we will both take our girl to
Bourellis, there she can be cured of her burden.” His
words spelt of mistrust in the torbs, he knew of their
dark magic, and his Librye was not some experiment
for them, she was the hope little they had, the war was
almost over, but they knew something in the dark
clouds over the Rathen valley was brewing, the Atlanti
settlements were restless with their loss.
His chambers were dark as Harris stepped in. Fire
flowers began to slowly light his way, the chambers
were quiet, but he knew something was off. His senses
were a maze of awareness. His bed was not empty, he
took his belt off and placed it at the side of his desk.
Slowly, he made his way into his bedroom, wondering,
fearing who could be there.
“Marriage, Harris,” Branwen softly said. She sat on
the side of the bed; a bright blue fey gown barely
covered her. “It is possible now.”
Harris relaxed, he removed his gloves and placed
them on a dresser at the side of him. “No,” he softly
replied, “you promised yourself to Brenin, that is a
promise you must now keep,” he walked towards her,
“we must remain loyal to him, Bran.” He tenderly
stroked her hair; she tilted her head for her face to
meet the palm of his hand. “As much as I just want to
have you right now, we can’t.”
His voice broke her down, it battered at her,
knowing they could have had everything, if she had
just waited. “I can break my bond with Brenin,” she
stood, “but I can’t with you,” she gently said, she
pressed herself against him, sliding her hand down,
she cupped his manhood.
“No,” he softly said as he drew back moving her
hand away. He could see her mother in her eyes, her
soft caramel hair, just like Harelda’s. “We can’t,
Bran.”
“Please, Harris,” she begged. She was insatiable as
she forced herself towards him, she reached up to him
and kissed his lips.
Eyes wide open, Harris gladly received the kiss, he
was far too easily swayed by women. She again
reached down and took him in her hand. He could
not help himself, as he lay her on his bed, she had
finally gotten her own way, again.
The rolling cliffs of Xencliff, the calls of sea birds
filled the skies, the smell of freshly caught fish and
salty sea air filled the noses of the noise loving people
who dwelled upon the cliffs. The booming waves
crashed upon the shores of the kingdom of Xencliff.
The cliffs were a honeycomb of walkways. Built into
the long cliffs, the palace of Xencliff was invisible to
the land dwellers, ships coming and going had the
perfect view of the palace cliff. The colossal structure
was carved perfectly overlooking the mighty ocean.
The throne of Waron Chen Lu was built back into
the caves, protected by the land and sea, the palace
was impenetrable. The mighty halls within the palace
echoed with the thundering ocean. Stood in her
chambers, Riah Chen Lu awaited her husband’s
return, she was his last wife, his favoured wife. Time
had been kind to her, having lost her first family,
Waron was her chance to have another. Her long
black hair was platted down her back past her waist,
she was a vision, in a green wrap dress, tied perfectly
showing her slim figure, broad shoul
ders and wide
hips, she had the figure of a woman upon the seat of
power. Her ecru skin shone in the light of her
chambers. A knock at her door startled her, slowly,
she opened the door to a palace messenger. She took
the letter and closed the door. Her deep green eyes
read the letter she had hoped to receive for over
twenty years.
‘I know it’s been a while; I know this is possibly
hard for you to read. I have not gone completely
insane, although, sometimes I wish I would. This is
the most difficult thing I have ever written; it should be
easy, I struggle to say I apologise, I struggle to forget,
or remember. We’ve both suffered enough. I want to
know who you are again, I miss my family, and you
are all I have left. I know you have followed me; I
know you know me, but I need to know you now, I
need to know my family. Please reply, I look forward
to hearing from you. Your son, Harris Bearwood.’
The letter seemed to beg her, she knew her son,
she felt his pain, and she had tried for years to help
him see sense and come home. Cronnin was his home
now, as he sat at his desk, he waited for a reply from
his mother. His work had dwindled, council meetings
became dull, he was now invited into the halls of the
council, although he tried not to attend.
Sat silently in his chambers, Harris read the letters
placed there that morning, the smell of rain drifted in
on the breeze from outside, the mid-afternoon had
brought a heavy rain, battering the city of Cronnin.
Harris lifted his head, hearing someone walking
through the east corridor, the door below opened,
Harris sat back, placing his quill down, he waited to
see who was paying him a visit.
Pounding up the stairs, Gethen appeared. “What
are you doing here?” asked Harris, he noticed the
wide smile on Gethen’s face, he seemed to be carrying
some secret knowledge.
He placed a bowl of soup on Harris’s desk, along
with a lump of fresh bread. “Nice to see you too,
Harris,” Gethen sarcastically replied.
Harris’s eyes lit, he was not expecting such a visit,
but he did appreciate it. “It’s just odd, you’ve never
been here before, why now?” he narrowed his eyes.
Gethen sat, he pushed the bowl towards Harris,
still, he kept his smile. “I just came for a visit.”
Harris’s eyes thinned further, he said with a deep
tone of warning, “Gethen.”
Gethen’s smile grew further, he leant forward.
“Harelda?”
Harris’s eyes turned to a look of trepidation, he
struggled to hold it in. “What?”
“Staff from Sonnin, they often bring messages to
Cronnin, they said you, and Harelda…” he said with a
suggestive tone.
Harris quickly stood, his eyes swirled, filled with
thought, with one hand on his hip and the other across
his mouth, he took his hand from his mouth and
pointed to Gethen. “Silence them,” he ordered. His
teeth gritted. “You need to silence them now.”
“So, it’s true?” asked Gethen awkwardly.
Harris widened his eyes towards Gethen, filled
with threat he ordered, “Silence them, now!”
Gethen stood, he pointed to Harris as he said
from under his brow, “You owe me for this.” Gethen
left back towards the kitchens.
Harris remained pacing behind his desk, his brow
began to drip with a heavy sweat. “Why?” he asked
himself, he placed his hands on his head, “why am I
so stupid?” he loudly asked, he pointed to his crotch,
“this is your fault,” he whispered.
“I don’t think you’re stupid at all,” said Branwen
stood at the top of the stairs.
Harris jumped giving an audible yell. “I didn’t see
you there.”
She came towards his desk, a long flowing dress
followed behind her. “I’ve been asked to return to
Sonnin, only for a few days,” she came towards the
desk, “I only came to let you know.” Her voice was
soft, a sadness seemed to have followed her.
“Very well,” said Harris, he stood frozen at the
back of his desk, “I hope you have a pleasant trip,” he
awkwardly said.
Branwen could see the look of panic he seemed to
show in his eyes. She frowned towards him. “What is
the matter?” she asked, concerned.
He frantically shook his head, “Nothing,” he said
with a nervous laugh, “nothing wrong with me at all,”
he repeated. He began walking to the side of his desk,
having no idea where he was going, “why would you
ask that?” he asked with a high tone.
“Harris?” she watched him walk from one side of
the desk to the other, “something is clearly bothering
you,” she said, she could sense he was tense, she was
the only person he struggled to lie to.
Harris quickly turned. “I’m absolutely fine,” an
idea blasted into his head, “I’ve sent a letter, that’s all,
I’m awaiting a reply,” he turned to his desk, “but, no
reply today, so I’m off out,” he quickly said as he took
his black hooded cloak from a hook on the wall to the
right of the office. “Enjoy Sonnin,” he said with a wide
smile.
Branwen quickly blinked, her mouth was gaping,
shocked at Harris’s hurried behaviour. “I was thinking
you could come with me?” she called to him as he
quickly left down the stairs.
“Nope!” he shouted to her as he made his way
down the stairs, “that’s a terrible idea!” he shouted, the
door to the tower slammed shut, Branwen stood,
confused and concerned, alone in Harris’s tower.
Librye sat alone in her room. The windows cried
with rain as she remained in her bed, whatever
Bushwell had sent had helped, although she knew she
needed more. She loved the thought of what her
future would bring, but at the same time she was
slowly starting to hate being different.
Slowly, she rose from her bed and made her way
towards her balcony. The cold puddle on the floor of
the balcony did not seem to bother her bare feet as
she stepped out, it was refreshing for her. The wind
whistled and whispered around the building, the world
was talking to her, but she did not know what it was
saying.
A call from the streets caught her attention. She
could only just see over the stone railing of the balcony
as she looked towards the city. The large wall blocked
her view of the people there. She wanted to see more
that day, she had a strange need within her, to see the
people. Her room offered her nothing but loneliness.
Mord had been sat with her for the night and had
taken the day to get some rest. With the skies dulling
in the wake of a wet evening, Librye left her room.
“Librye,” grumbled the guard with a tone of
warning.
“Mord said you are to stay in your room, you
aren’t well,” he crouched towards her.
Librye glared towards him. “I need to get out, I
need some air,” she softly pleaded.
He tightly pressed his lips; he knew it was a bad
idea. “Open the balcony.”
“I’ve been stood there for most of the day,” she
complained. “They can’t keep me locked in like a
wolf in a kennel, Evan, I need to get out.”
Evan stood, he looked to the other guard stood
with him. “What do you say? only to the gardens and
back?”
“I agree,” smiled the guard, she took Librye’s hand
and they made their way down the stairs.
“Can we go to the front of the palace, please?”
asked Librye as she looked up to the two guards
escorting her down.
The guards looked to each other. Helen looked
down to Librye. “Why the front? there’s nothing to
see at the front.”
Librye’s eyes widened. “The people,” she softly
replied, “I want to see people.” Her innocent reply
confused them both, but they did as Librye wished
and passed Balthus as they walked towards the front of
the palace and out the large door. Staying close
behind, they watched her walk towards the large gates,
the guards on the gates followed her moves closely
with their eyes. She held the bars on the gate and
gazed out into the vast city of Cronnin. Mothers with
their children, fathers, running past to meet them as
they finished their work for the day.
Her need for a family had never been clear before,
but as the guards all watched her at the palace gates,
her longing seemed to fill the air. She did not know
her parents, she did not know who she was or where
she was from, she did not even know what she was.
The reality for Librye, was slowly sinking in. She was a
creature, not known on Cammbour, she was different.
The children in the grounds close to the palace
seemed to ignore she was there, whispers of, ‘leave her
alone,’ could be heard by her. As her strange
turquoise eyes glared towards them. Her mouth was
gaping as she watched the people of the city, leading
normal lives, she was not normal, at first, it was what
she liked most about herself, but now, it was the one
thing she was slowly starting to hate.
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