The Heir Of Westfall [The Alurian Chronicles Book 1]

by Christopher W. Wilcox, Sr.

  "It is so wonderful to be outside the castle on a day such as this!” Bethany said.

  "Do you like the outdoors then, my lady? I would have thought you more sheltered than that,” Rory said.

  "My father's estate is much like this area, and I would ride every day when I lived there. When I was young, I would climb the apple trees to get the fruit at the top where the harvesters could not reach for fear of breaking the light branches. I'm afraid I'm not a refined court lady, Rory, but a country girl at heart."

  "That is even better, for in Westfell, we all work together to bring in the harvest or put up a new building. Men and women alike share in the labor and that is as it should be since we will all share in its bounty. You will find few class distinctions in Westfell."

  "Rory, do you think you will ever take me to the Veil?” Bethany asked shyly.

  "Would you truly like to go there? The rules are much different inside the Veil, Bethany, and some of their customs may shock you."

  "I do not shock easily, Rory, and I would like to understand that side of you as well as the Westfell portion. Plus, I would love to spend the night high in a tree, listening as the breeze sighs through the leaves while I lay safe in your arms."

  "Then I shall take you there after we are married. I would enjoy spending the worst part of winter back in the summer of the Veil.” Rory hoped he would be permitted to keep this promise. He had no assurances that Bethany would be permitted to pass through the Veil.

  * * * *

  They chose to make their picnic alongside a rushing creek that flowed through a wild patch of woods between some hills. Nestled out of sight of the road, there was a small bit of ground beside the creek carpeted with thick grass. In many ways, this spot reminded Rory of the area near Abigail's home in the Great Forest. The Westfell guards scouted through the surrounding woods even though Rory assured them no others were present. The guards picketed themselves around the area, far enough away to give the lord and lady their privacy, yet close enough to respond if there was need. Swiftstalker also withdrew to the limbs of the trees, moving silently from tree to tree as he watched for any threat to the heir.

  Rory spread out a blanket for them to use as their picnic area, and they lounged upon it while they fed each other slivers of roasted chicken, bread still warm from the ovens (kept that way by Swiftstalker's careful use of elven magic), as well as slices of fruit and nuts. Rory had scanned the food carefully as they had set it out between them. As they ate, Rory said, “I don't know the custom, but I would like to give you a betrothal gift, Bethany.” He reached into his saddlebag and retrieved a small package.

  He had worked hard on this gift, using the power of the life force to craft a small pendant for Bethany. It was the Westfell Wolf, made from a small portion of mithrail silver he had trimmed from his mail and manipulated to reveal a sitting wolf, ears erect, and large bushy tail wrapped around its feet. The magic had reproduced the wolf in lifelike detail, rendering the silver so cunningly the wolf's fur looked as if it should be soft. Small chips of emerald glittered for its eyes. It was suspended from a fine chain of mithrail of just the right length to allow the pendant to nestle between the upper slopes of her breasts.

  "Rory, this is beautiful! Wherever did you find such a magnificent pendant?” Bethany asked as she studied the pendant in her hand.

  "I made it for you, as a token of my love."

  He slipped the chain over her head and she lifted her hair out from under it, settling the chain around her neck and the pendant in its proper place. Glancing down, she said, “I was worried that it might be cold, but it is not! It feels warm, almost as if it were alive."

  "It carries a part of the life force within it, bonded by my love and the magic of the Heart of the Veil.” Rory admired the way it laid so casually against her skin. “I feel as though I am always touching you now."

  As she pulled Rory down beside her on the cover, Bethany said, “I have no such gift for you, my lord, except my love and the passion I feel inside.” She pulled him lower until their lips met and those passions ignited.

  * * * *

  Much later, as the sun was beginning to set, the two reluctantly stopped their kissing and fondling. “Why couldn't it be as simple for us as it is for the peasants?” Bethany whispered huskily. “On my father's estates, a couple wishing to marry simply makes their love known to the community. If their families agree, they are then considered wed and set up their own household if they can afford it, or move in with one of the families until they can. There are no long waits between betrothal and the wedding because peasants know such a delay is cruel and unnatural."

  "You know why we must wait. The king wants me to come of age before we wed."

  "Come of age? You are more a man now than the Duke of Eastfell ever will be, and the king has confirmed him in his title without another regency. Oh, Rory, I don't want to wait another six months.” She laid her head on his chest.

  "I know, Beth, and I feel the same.” Rory stroked her hair. “But the king's will is paramount and must be obeyed."

  Chapter 19

  The next two weeks followed a pattern. Swiftstalker had arranged for Rory to practice with his swords in the training arena used by the King's Own. Many of the off-duty members of that elite force would come and watch as the heir of Westfell and the Forest Lord turned weapons master would spar in the arena. Whether it was with a single sword, a sword and a knife, or two swords, the pair could move at speeds the guards could only dream of achieving. The culmination of their sparring would occur when they would battle one another with two swords, blindfolded, to simulate fighting in the dark. Even then, their swords were blurs as they fought from one side of the arena to the other; their control so complete that neither ever drew blood from the other. Word of their training spread, and various nobles just happened to be touring the arena when the heir and the Forest Lord took to the floor. Finally, the king himself came and watched in awe as the four swords weaved their deadly ballet, the noise of their clashing almost a continuous ringing.

  After bathing away the sweat of their exertions, Rory and Swiftstalker would walk about the town. It had never been necessary for them to scale the walls after all; the guards knew them on sight now. Several jewelers had importuned Rory to explain his technique at crafting Bethany's pendant as the various ladies of the noble and near noble houses clamored for similar jewelry. Rory would just smile and say it was magic, and the jewelers would grumble, never realizing he was telling them the truth.

  The evenings were spent either in court events or dining privately with the duke or even the king and queen. It was at one of these private meals that Rory finally met Earl Sudcliffe, Bethany's father.

  The earl was a man of wealth and had become the chancellor upon King William's ascension to the throne of Aluria. A boyhood friend of the king, he had been the monarch's constant companion and advisor as they grew up in the newly forged kingdom. He had married the only child of a wealthy merchant out of love rather than a desire for her money. When she died giving birth to Bethany, he had devoted his life to serving his king and raising his daughter to be everything he and his wife had dreamed she would become, educating her far beyond the norm for a woman in Aluria so she would become a formidable power in some great house one day.

  Rory had taken an immediate liking to the earl. Although the earl was in his late forties, he was fit and healthy. Rory soon found his future father-in-law was of the same mold as Duke Richard, beloved by those who worked his estates because he was both fair and willing to work alongside them to accomplish the things that needed to be done. His estates, while on land that truly belonged to the king, always prospered and the king was more than happy with his portion of that wealth which found its way into the royal coffers.

  "Lord Rorrick, you must promise that you will always look after my daughter. I am afraid I have spoiled her completely, you see. I could deny her little, whether it was a new book or a new dress.” Earl Sudcliffe looked at h
is daughter fondly. “She is a voracious reader, you know."

  "I did not know that about her, sir. I, too, have a love of good books. My mother, Abigail of Westfell, taught me the love of learning and the joy to be found on the pages of a book. This then is another point we have in common."

  "You have close ties among the Forest Lords, it is said,” Earl Sudcliffe probed.

  Rory smiled. “You could call them close. The Prince of the Forest is my father and I recently spent the winter living with the Forest Lords behind their Veil in the Great Forest. I also fought with them in defense of Kendrahl. I am proud to be one of them."

  The earl nodded. “Good. The Forest Lords have always held a fascination for Bethany and now she will learn about them firsthand. I have heard the tales of the ways inside the Veil and I am afraid my daughter will take to them quite readily. She is no cloistered and vaporish female; there were many times when she was young that she would be found swimming in the lake on the estate, naked as the day she was born, much to the outrage of her governess. I sent her to court to learn how a lady is supposed to behave but I worry that the veneer is thin in places."

  Bethany pretended outrage at this revelation of her childhood crimes but the love she felt for her father was plain for all to see. Her playful swat on her father's arm was more a gesture of affection than remonstration.

  "I do have one concern, and that is the animosity between you and Duke Rikard of Eastfell. While I have no doubt about your ability to defend yourself, it is the innocents who all too often suffer when the great houses quarrel. I would spare my daughter such conflict."

  "This quarrel is not of my choosing, sir. All the Duke of Eastfell need do is accept that Bethany loves me and that we will be wed. I am willing to let go of my own hatred for his family."

  "Surely you do not think he was behind the attack on you?"

  "It was not that of which I spoke, sir. His father, the last Duke of Eastfell, raped my mother in the dungeons of this very castle and then had her murdered last year. Reparations for those acts may have been collected by my father, but I still recall all too clearly burying her burned body with my own hands. Some wounds are deeper than forgiveness can ever hope to heal."

  Earl Sudcliffe was shocked and looked to Duke Richard for corroboration. Duke Richard slowly nodded his head. “Sadly, this is the truth. The Forest Lords themselves captured my daughter's killers and learned the truth from them. Prince Brightblade exacted his own vengeance upon the Duke of Eastfell."

  "I fear the young duke is much like his father; vain, impulsive, and used to having his own way in all things,” Earl Sudcliffe said. “His unwelcome advances toward Bethany would not be stopped, despite my protests and even with direct words from the king himself. I count on you, Lord Rorrick, to protect her from him."

  "Should he ever attempt to harm her, I will kill him myself,” Rory said coldly. “On that, sir, you have my oath."

  * * * *

  The Duke of Eastfell had stayed out of Rory's way whenever possible, but their paths had crossed at various court events. Eastfell never condescended to speak directly to Rory. His sly insults and deprecations would be addressed to one of the many hangers-on that followed Eastfell everywhere. Rory would turn a deaf ear to whatever Eastfell said, regarding it as being of the same value as when a cow passed gas.

  On the final night of Spring Court, a last grand ball was held. Much to his surprise, Bethany appeared dressed, not in the colors of Sudcliffe, but in the deep greens and silver of Westfell with her wolf pendant shining in her cleavage. Rory bent over her hand, kissing it, and said, “My dear, you look wonderful in dark green. It draws attention to your beautiful copper hair and brings out the green of your eyes. I fear you may outshine the queen herself tonight."

  "I am so happy you are pleased, my lord, for I wore this to honor you and your house.” She leaned forward to whisper in his ear, “And the bodice slips down quite easily. This is our last night together for quite some time, you know."

  Rory grinned in spite of himself. He was truly a lucky man.

  Duke Richard could not restrain himself when he walked toward the head table. He had naturally looked toward his heir and turned to them instead of walking to his seat. Bending over Bethany's hand, he said, “My dear, you look every inch the Duchess of Westfell. If I were but thirty years younger, I would marry you myself."

  Bethany laughed softly. “I think you would try if you were but ten years younger, Your Grace. Your gaze has not left my ... pendant since you bent over my hand.” She kissed the duke on his cheek. “You are a wonderful man, Your Grace, and I will love being able to call you grandfather."

  Bemused, Duke Richard patted Rory's shoulder as he walked back to his seat at the head table next to the king. The byplay had not been lost on the others seated at the table, and the happy indulgent smiles on the king and queen were offset by the fury in the eyes of the Duke of Eastfell.

  * * * *

  The dining tables had been cleared away and the ballroom was now filled with dancing couples. The king and queen had led the first dance, and the Duke of Westfell had chosen the Lady Bethany as his partner. Rory watched as his grandfather tried to maintain his dignity while trying very hard not to stare down at the shining wolf pendant so prominently displayed.

  Swiftstalker handed Rory a tankard of ale. “Ah, lad, I miss the ale of the Veil, don't you? This stuff never tastes quite as good."

  Rory smiled at his uncle and concentrated on the ale that filled their tankards. A few seconds later, Swiftstalker took another sip from his and stared at it in surprise. “Ah, that is so much better. Thank you, lad."

  "Think of it as a final night gift, Uncle. Whenever you refill that tankard, it will automatically change to the ale of the Veil. Let this be our secret, shall we?” Rory's eyes never left the dancing form of his betrothed. The dress set off her figure admirably, and the colors were the perfect backdrop to her own natural coloring of hair, eyes, and skin. The mithrail wolf seemed to glow in the torchlight but Rory knew the real reason. It was the enchantments he had placed in the pendant and chain. Only Bethany or he could remove them from around her neck; anyone else who tried would be badly burned. With the pendant as a focus, he could locate her anywhere. Once they parted tomorrow, he could travel the ley lines and see her whenever he missed her too much.

  Duke Armand of Kendrahl claimed Bethany for the next dance while Duke Richard danced with Armand's wife. The Dukes of Eastfell and Solange appeared to have left the ball unnoticed. No loss, in Rory's mind. With Eastfell absent, he could enjoy the dance.

  Finally, he recovered his betrothed but before he could take her out on the dance floor, she took his tankard and sipped. “This is good! I don't normally care for ale, but this is so much better than anything I have tried before."

  "That's because it is elven ale. Uncle Swiftstalker was missing the taste so I changed the ale in our tankards. I am glad you like it, too. Shall we dance?"

  After a few dances and many conversations with the other guests, Rory and Bethany finally had a chance to slip out of the ballroom and find a private corner where they could be alone. Knowing Swiftstalker was standing guard outside the door gave them a measure of privacy; no one would come in on them unannounced. As they kissed, Rory discovered that Bethany was quite correct about the bodice. It did indeed come down quite easily.

  * * * *

  The Westfell guards had brought all the saddled horses to the main entrance of the castle in preparation for their return to Westfell. The king and queen were there to see the duke and his heir off on their journey home. Plans were being made for a royal visit in the fall to witness the marriage between Rory and Bethany, when Earl Sudcliffe rushed up to them.

  "Where is she, Rory? I know the two of you want to marry sooner, but eloping is not the answer,” Earl Sudcliffe said.

  "Whatever are you talking about? Bethany is not here. In fact, I was waiting for her to come say goodbye before we left."

  "She's gone
, Rory. Her room in the castle is in great disarray but her bed has not been slept in. I had thought she had slipped off to your room last night. Such things have happened before between betrothed couples and I would have thought none the worse of you if it had."

  "Earl, on my word, I saw Bethany back to her room last night and left her there. I have not seen or spoken to her since. If she did not sleep there, then someone has abducted her."

  * * * *

  The castle was searched but no trace of Bethany was found. The new captain of the guard confirmed that two parties had left the castle during the night: the Duke of Eastfell and the Duke of Solange had departed within an hour of each other in the middle of the night.

  The King's Own, under orders by King William himself, had ridden in pursuit of the Duke of Eastfell. The queen had been taken to her chambers, weeping for the safety of the girl who was like her own daughter. The king had railed and stormed, promising vile tortures to the men who had dared lay hands on Lady Bethany.

  Duke Richard had ordered his men to return the horses to the stables and led Rory and Earl Sudcliffe back inside the castle. Swiftstalker poured Rory a draft of ale but Rory remained withdrawn and quiet. Everyone feared what he might do when he came back to the here and now. Even as Rory sat quietly, Swiftstalker stood close by. As a result, he saw Rory take a deep breath and saw awareness return to his eyes.

  As Swiftstalker bent close to Rory, the young heir quietly said, “They are going in the wrong direction. Eastfell doesn't have her. She is heading south. She is being taken to Solange."