by F M Andrews
“Right, now let's get you settled and then we can have our little chat,” Chanrill said rubbing his hands together. “My man Kenrill here will show you to your rooms and bring you down when you are ready. The boys will look after your horses.”
#
After a quick wash and change of clothes Anssan found himself following Kenrill down a sweeping stair. He was both dreading and looking forward to ‘the little chat’. He was dreading having to ask Hezrill to leave everything she loved behind and head off into the unknown but he was also eagerly anticipating seeing her again and actually talking with her.
“Sir Anssan,” Kenrill announced as he pushed open the double doors with both hands.
Anssan scanned the luxurious room searching for Hezrill and felt his shoulders drop when there was no sign of her.
“Welcome, my boy,” her father called in his booming voice. “Come, sit,” he instructed patting the couch next to him. “The girls will be here shortly.” He leaned forward in a conspiratorial way. “Probably just powdering their noses. Not every day they have the prince's cousin, a knight no less, in the same room, you know.” Smiling, he poured two glasses of rich, dark liquid from a decanter on the side table next to him and handed one to Anssan. “To Feld!” he toasted with a meaningful look.
“To Feld,” Anssan replied grateful for Chanrill’s unsaid support.
The doors opened and ‘the girls’ entered. Once again Anssan’s heart flipped. Just being in the same room with Hezrill seemed to make his day brighter and the world more interesting. Anssan had never met anyone quite like this and he was suddenly quite shy. He felt just like a young boy in the presence of a respected elder. Chanrill rose to greet them and Anssan belatedly tried to follow, nearly spilling his drink. He felt his face go red. This was ridiculous.
“My dear, you look ravishing,” Chanrill gushed as he took his wife’s hand and led her to the couch opposite. Hezrill followed, her head held high and a playful smile tugging at the corners of her mouth, looking directly at Anssan with open curiosity. He gasped. She was no beauty but she was so lovely, so alive, that you couldn’t put a label on her. She was quite literally stunning and Anssan was so knocked out by her that it wasn’t until Chanrill patted the seat next to him again that he realised he was the last one standing. His legs gave way and he sat, trying not to stare. Picking up his drink, he regrouped. He had important business to attend to and this was a really bad time to be overcome by emotion.
Isrill raised an enquiring eyebrow at Chanrill before focusing on Anssan. “I would like to think that the royal knights were here on a social visit; however, I think that would be a little naive of me, so I wonder, what brings you here, to our corner of Feld, and why do you want to talk with my daughter?” she asked without preamble.
It was so refreshing not to have to go through all the usual social ‘niceties’ that was the custom at court, that he couldn't help but smile with relief. “It is rather a delicate matter really,” he began after clearing his throat, “but a very important matter to Feld.” He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. “I think it is best if you read the letter from the king that I gave to your husband.”
Isrill turned and levelled her steady gaze at her husband.
“Yes, yes, of course,” Chanrill muttered as he fumbled in his jacket pocket and produced a rather crumpled document, which he vainly attempted to smooth out before placing it in his wife’s outstretched hand.
Silence settled upon the room as Isrill read the letter before, her eyes fixed on Chanrill, she passed it to Hezrill to read.
Hezrill quickly scanned the document and then slowly lowered it to her lap. She did not look up or move for quite some time and the air of expectancy grew with each breath.
Anssan was becoming very nervous. He knew that it was not an option for him to return to Errin without Hezrill, but neither was forcing her to comply. Eventually she looked up. Anssan was not sure what he had expected, questions, maybe fear, at the least uncertainty, but instead there was only a quiet confidence in those exquisite eyes.
“I can’t say I am as excited as Linrill would have been about this,” she smiled warmly, glancing at her mother, “but it will be an adventure and I have faith that I will be safe and well looked after.” This time the smile was directed at Anssan, sending an unexpected shiver down his spine. “The only boon I would ask is that I am home for my sister’s wedding in spring.”
“I am not, I mean we can’t …” Anssan stuttered, knowing that this was not a promise he could give but unsure how to tell her that.
“Don’t worry, my dear,” Chanrill leapt to his rescue. “If you are not home by spring I am sure we can postpone the wedding until you return. Couldn't we my sweet?” he said, looking imploringly at his wife.
Isrill sighed, obviously used to her husband making impulsive promises that involved considerable effort on her part to implement.
“Yes, dear, we could. Sevrill would not feel happy without her bridesmaid there.” She leaned over and patted Hezrill’s knee reassuringly. “Don’t worry, we'll sort something out, but the more important question is: how do you feel about going? Are you absolutely sure you want to do this? You will be a long way from home and it looks as if no one really knows where you will end up or what you will have to do once you are there, and,” she took a deep breath, “you are still so very young.” Tears glinted in her eyes as she searched her daughter’s face for answers.
Hezrill gently took her mother's hands in hers. “It scares me, yes, but it also excites me,” she said slowly, weighing each word. “And I think I am afraid that I would regret not going more than I would regret actually going.”
Anssan began breathing again. He had not realised how much his future, and possibly the whole of Feld’s, had depended on her answer.
The decision made, Hezrill immediately launched into planning for the trip. A chaperone was chosen and the logistics of a long trip away were thoroughly analysed. The longer the discussion became, the more impressed Anssan was with her calm common sense and gentle humour. Finally when all had been sorted, Chanrill slapped both hands loudly down onto his knees and proclaimed. “I think that this deserves a little going away party, don’t you my dear?” Once again he turned to Isrill who just nodded smiling indulgently at him, as if he were a lovable but exasperating child.
Anssan was stunned! Not only was this mission to be kept as quiet as possible but speed was of the essence. Hadn't they just discussed that they would depart tomorrow? This was not the occasion, nor the time for a gathering.
Chanrill must have read the panic in Anssan’s face because he laughed loudly, slapping Anssan’s knee this time. “Don’t look so shocked, my boy! We have these little soirées all the time and we will just say that Hezrill has been invited to visit Court for the winter.” He winked at Isrill, who rolled her eyes. “Do her reputation no end of good, eh!”
Anssan quietly thought that it would also be quite beneficial for Chanrill’s reputation as well. He may appear a jovial buffoon but, as Anssan well knew, appearances were often deceptive.
#
That evening, as Anssan and his men stood in line, dressed in their finery, being introduced to a stream of powdered and perfumed ladies and elegantly dressed men, it all seemed very surreal. A dream sequence that bore nothing to do with the reality of their mission. It was all a true testimony of Chanrill’s powers of manipulation and Anssan was impressed at how easily he had been manoeuvred into becoming a useful piece in the Lord Chancellor’s overall game plan.
The house had been miraculously transformed. Hundreds of candles created a warm glow, giving life to the beautiful jewels that adorned each and every lady in the room. The genteel music, provided by a small group of musicians, wafted in from the magnificent ballroom, enfolding everyone in its soothing aura. Flowers infused the rooms with their perfume, adding a freshness that was a counterpart to the heady perfume the guests wore.
Anssan had been surreptitiously searching
the room for Hezrill, but as yet there was no sign of her. Chanrill and Isrill were at the front door and the first to greet the guests as they arrived. He had spotted Sevrill on the arm of a very distinguished looking gentleman, mingling in the ballroom, and of course Linrill was everywhere. One minute being hugged by a huge, gruff-looking gentleman and the next ducking under the tablecloth to appear on the other side clutching a titbit of some sort. There was always a mischievous grin on her face and Anssan noticed that wherever she went she left people smiling in her wake. Anssan found himself grinning as well, just watching her.
Finally the last guest had arrived and moved through into the ballroom. The noise level increased as people competed to be heard. Anssan began to feel quite warm in all his court clothes and was wondering how long he would have to stay before he could leave without giving offence when the musicians stopped playing and Chanrill jumped up onto their stage. Silence fell and all eyes turned in his direction expectedly.
“First of all, thank you all for coming at such short notice.” Chanrill was in his element, the natural orator. “It is so gracious of you to help us to welcome the Royal Knights who have come all this way to our little part of the world.” He took a moment to bow to Anssan and his men. “But, I have a confession to make. This is not the only reason for our gathering tonight.” He paused for dramatic effect, looking around the room, and when he judged that he had the guests’ interest piqued to the exact right degree, he continued. “Tonight I would like to announce that our lovely daughter Hezrill will be accompanying the Royal Knights back to Hope to be a guest of non-other than,” he paused again for effect, “the King himself!” The room took a collective gasp, expressions of excited incredulity on every face. “Hezrill will be leaving on the morrow with Prince Anssan and his men. This is a wonderful opportunity for her even though we are all going to miss her terribly.” There was a general murmur of assent. “I would like you to make her feel very special tonight so that she has fond memories of our little town to take with her on her big adventure.” Then opening his arms wide he proclaimed, “Ladies and gentlemen, may I present our beautiful daughter Hezrill.” And with that, the doors at the back of the room opened to reveal Hezrill standing poised and looking radiant.
The effect was electrifying and immediately everyone began to clap. Chanrill, the consummate showman, jumped down off the platform, walked the length of the room, and embraced Hezrill before offering her his arm and together they moved forward to receive the accolades and best wishes of the room.
Anssan knew the whole evening had been carefully staged by Chanrill, but still he was, nonetheless, affected and as the evening drew on and the dancing began he could not tear his eyes off Hezrill. She was a pool of calm in a surging sea of adoring faces. Her serenity, poise and grace made her stand out. He had only one dance with her and she had been so light in his arms that it almost felt as if she was floating. She smelt divine and once again she stole his ability to talk, leaving him to answer her polite questions with monosyllabic grunts. It was as the evening was coming to a close that he was suddenly struck by the terribly sad realisation that it might be a long time before she would be able to enjoy an evening such as this again. Seeing her so carefree and innocent was truly bittersweet. She was a fragile bloom carefully tended in a house awash with love and tomorrow she would be thrust into a strange world full of people and places she did not know. She would never again be the same unblemished flower that she was at this moment and for that he felt truly sorry. Watching her hugging Linrill, he silently made a vow to himself, to make her journey as pleasant as he possibly could.
#
Turrin sighed.
It was good to be home, back in Errin’s cottage with Thad, amongst familiar things, places and people, to know what was going to happen each day and to sleep in the same warm comfortable bed each night. He had been slightly surprised how quickly the excitement of the last couple of moons had slipped into the background and the real, everyday life had become his focus. The first few days back in Upper Hull had been exhausting as all and sundry wanted to know his story, and it had only taken him a day to become very tired of having to tell his adventures over and over again. It had been a relief when Errin, Myssan and himself had finally made their way out to the farm. Dissan, his knights and Surrin had not even stopped the night in Upper Hull; instead, they had continued on to the boundary while there was still light left in the day. Turrin had found it quite difficult to say goodbye. He felt as if they had become a family during their travels together and now they were going separate ways, he was going to miss them terribly.
Once they reached the farm Errin had immediately taken Myssan down to check out the healing centre and Turrin had been left with the job of unpacking and settling back into the well-worn groove of his life. Thad had been indifferent to Turrin’s return, showing no sign of outward affection but nonetheless, Turrin noticed that he was never far away as if he was keeping an eye on him to make sure that he didn’t disappear again.
By Errin’s calculations they had about half a moon before the other three seekers should start arriving and there was an awful lot of work to do before that happened. Beds needed to be found, extra food brought in, fodder for the horses acquired [CL18]and a training schedule drawn up. Errin had begun teaching Myssan magic on their journey home and he had proved a quick study and would be able to help Errin when the others arrived. Of course, he could not actually cast spells; however, he was able to grasp the theory rapidly and often asked questions that had Errin searching for answers. Turrin had listened in on these lessons and, to his surprise, he had found it all fascinating, not that he would ever have use for it. Errin had explained how magic was just the power to use the natural forces of the world that are all around us, every day. The trick was to meld these forces into something new, give them new direction or enhance their strength. To achieve magic you are more a channeler and an amplifier than a creator.
“It is a bit like an orchestra,” Errin had explained once. “All the musicians and instruments are already there, it is just up to you to conduct them and create the music.” The next lesson had been about identifying and feeling these forces. “This is quite a challenging task for most,” Errin warned, “As it involves letting go of your awareness of yourself and allowing other forces to enter.” Myssan, who up until now had had no trouble learning, found that she was right and that indeed, this aspect of magic turned out to be very difficult to master. He liked to be in control, to analyse rather than feel, to look at things from distance rather than to touch. Turrin had watched with interest as Myssan struggled to surrender his control, getting more and more frustrated and angry with himself as time passed and he still failed to connect. Turrin was surprised because, although he had only been listening in on the lessons, he found that it was amazingly easy to touch the energy from the sun, the power of the wind, the inexorable pull of gravity and the amazingly strong force of water. It was a true revelation to him; it was as if he had been deaf all his life and that suddenly he could hear, as if a fourth dimension to the world had suddenly appeared. He knew that he would never be able to harness these forces but just to be able to feel them surge through his body was new and exciting. He wondered why it was so easy for him, someone without talent, yet so hard for Myssan, a natural wizard, someone who should be born to it.
One night, after watching Myssan stare intensely into a fire, a look of utter frustration creasing his face, Turrin decided to see if he could help and came to sit quietly next to him.
“You know, every day you breathe, your heart beats, you blink a million times and you even fart.” Myssan smiled and Turrin shifted in his seat before he continued. “All this happens without you trying, without you even thinking. I am wondering if it might be the same with these forces. They are there, they are happening with or without you, you just have to relax, close your eyes, open your mind and think of nothing.”
Myssan leaned his tousled head against the back of the bench, l
ooked up at the ceiling and took a deep breath. “You make it sound so simple but, try as I might, it still eludes me.”
“I can’t be sure, but I think that could be your problem, you are thinking that it is much more difficult than it really is. You are simply trying too hard.”
Myssan turned his head and searched Turrin’s face as if the answer lay behind his eyes. Then sitting bolt upright as if he had been prodded he grasped Turrin’s arm. “You can feel them, can’t you.” It was a statement not a question.
Turrin looked down unable to meet Myssan’s intense stare. “Yes, I….” he stammered, “I don’t know why, I have no talent.” He shrugged his shoulders. “Maybe I am a freak,” he added quietly.
A look of panic crossed Myssan’s face as he realized that he may have said something upsetting to Turrin. “No… no, I’m sure you are just a very sensitive and intuitive person who is much more in tune with the world around them than I am,” he said quickly then added, “I will give it another go and this time I will take your advice. I will try to … reelaaax,” he said, elongating the word as if it were a new interesting concept, a new word in his vocabulary.
Turrin snuggled in, and Myssan placed an arm around his shoulders drawing him closer, both staring into the fire. Turrin slowed his breathing and the prince followed suit. In no time Turrin could feel the energy given off by the flames. It felt exhilarating, alive and powerful. A quicksilver force that was hard to pinpoint as it danced to its own tune, flitting from one place to another without apparent reason. They had sat this way for quite some time, so long in fact that Turrin was convinced Myssan had fallen asleep when, with a start, Myssan twitched violently, sat bolt upright and let out an explosive gleeful laugh.