We continued our journey in the morning and were met by the Lord Leongrad himself. He looked at me, startled, before throwing open the carriage door, entering without ceremony, obviously pleased to have his wife home. I heard his exclamation and laughter as he met his latest son.
The Lady of Arden Retis was taken inside to be tended after her on-road delivery, and I took advantage of the household’s disruption to fill my saddle bags with supplies, whilst the cooks were feeling generous, celebrating the birth.
“Ecaeris,” Leongrad stopped me in the bailey. “You are welcome to stay,” he held the bridle of my horse. “You don’t have to rush off.”
“Thank you, but I’ll go on to Reknoc,” rather than stay with the woman who had been my husband’s mistress. “Queen Diandreliera asked me to speak with you about the increase in monster activity. She is of a mind to find the source and try to bring i
The bedding tangled at my feet annoyed me. I was cold and it was frustrating that succour was so close, and yet unattainable. Someone applied a wet cloth to my forehead. The water running down my face burned like acid. Dark hair fell across my face as the bedclothes were drawn up over me. “Akyran?” “No,” Daerton was amused. “But you can call me that if it makes you feel better.” “F-k you,” I said without heat. Everything ached. I shook with the cold. Fever, I assessed. A bad one. “Oh, come now, princess, is that any way to speak to your devoted nursemaid?” “Am I dying?” “Not on my watch, Ecaeris,” he promised. “Go back to sleep.” Dreams and nightmares interspersed with moments of lucidity. I could hear the echoes of my screams in the room, and found my bedside crowded with people: Fae. Their hands were linked, murmuring incantations. My mother was amongst them, and Daerton, looking exhausted, stood at the foot of my bed
I cast the portal and walked through into Nerith. It was evening, and people were closing shop and heading home for the night. My arrival drew attention, and they stopped to watch me with the wary belligerence of a people who had known trouble for quite some time. Three armoured Dark Elves, patrolling the streets, paused, and turned back to intercept me. Young Elves in fresh armour, still shiny and unmarred by battle, on patrol because of their freshness. Their hair was braided back on the sides, forming the centre into a mohawk, and they wore the half face helms strapped over, shielding their eyes, and providing a nasal guard. The tips of their ears were capped with elaborately worked earrings. “Fae mage,” one of them said, evaluating me. “That I am,” I agreed. “What are you doing in Nerith?” There was no hostility in the tone, she was simply performing her duty in enquiring. “Seeking audience with Akyran.” “Prince Akyran,” she correc
The last time I had seen the castle of Nerith, it had been in the wake of the Dark Elves destruction and the scars of that plundering marred it still, but beneath there was rejuvenation. The castle had been built by someone with an interest in making things beautiful, unlike the city beyond its walls, and occupied a square area central to the city, ringed by double walls with chemin de rondes. The main entrance led in a straight line through the two walls, into a walled garden that served as a decorative courtyard, with paved walkways in orderly squares through tidy, flower filled, green lawned gardens, ringed by covered terraces leading into the castle. We followed the central walkway to the double doors into the entrance hall. The floor here was covered in small brightly coloured tiles. A staircase led up one flight and then split into two. There was a portrait of me mounted on the wall of the staircase landing. “I know your face,” the woman Elf had
“I have a good healer,” he led me through the ground floor of the castle. “She’s normally in the kitchens.” “In the kitchens?” I repeated. “Apparently they’re the perfect place for brewing up potions. You would know. You’re a mage.” “I have never willingly stepped foot in a kitchen in my life, except to steal food or wine. Any potion that requires cooking, just hasn’t had someone motivated enough to work around that aspect.” We stepped down three steps into the kitchen and stood for a moment overwhelmed by the activity and heat within. The kitchen was rawer than the part of the castle we had previously been in, the stone less finished, less regular in cut. The walls were grimed with smoke, and the floor worn uneven. Light entered through a series of small windows set high on the walls, open to let in the air, and the door to the kitchen gardens, which also stood ajar. A chicken pecked in the open doorway, ignorant to the massacre of its ilk wi
The area we selected to search was grazing land for cattle. By the remnants of several small farmhouses and their outbuildings, at some stage mankind had tried to farm this land but cutting back the fertile forests in order to bare the land for cattle, and then several hundred years of cattle eating everything in sight and treading the young growth under their hooves, had resulted in the topsoil breaking down. Perhaps in a century, or two or three, if they kept the cattle from it, it might recover, but for now it was a dusty, rock filled scar. We had ridden for hours, gridding out the area selected for the search, delving into every deep, dark place we found, what few there were, to no avail. As the sun hit its zenith, we paused in the shadow of a decrepit building to share a meal and some wine with the Elvish contingency that searched with us. Akyran and I took our meal and sat on the stone lip of a well. It was not shaded, but it was private. We watched the Elves l
Armoured and armed, we returned to the courtyard and I cast a portal. “Aperianu.”The Temples of Seigradh were buried deep within the forest on the border of Nerith and Uyan Taesil. Even the irreverence of mankind had not dared to touch this forest. It was one of the oldest in the world, the trunks of its trees wide and its branches and roots tangled. It was said that its roots systems had become so enmeshed that it no longer existed as a forest of many trees, but all were part of one.There had once been a path to the temples, but the root system had long tossed the stones aside, or curled over them, so that the way was often lost beneath greenery. Pilgrims determined the way, instead, by the stone monoliths that marked the path, though even these were often swallowed by the forest.Water gathered in puddles on the ground, though the greenery was so thick, if there was mud from a recent rainfall, we were kept from it. Fairies with eyes like black be
“To end the slaughter,Not dragon son, but daughter,In the right hand,Rivyn’s sword will save the land,If the lamb chosen is wrong,Love’s sacrifice will not be strong.”The Seer’s words echoed hollowly around the room, and the vines behind her seemed to shake and tremble. There was a heaviness to the sound of them, a weightiness that implied meaning, and a ring to the tone so that it seemed she spoke from a great distance, and the sound carried to us from where-ever she was.The delivery seemed to exhaust her, her chin dropping to her chest, the points of her headdress stringing out vine behind her like spiderweb. She became so still that I found myself studying her chest for the rise and fall of breath. If she breathed, it was so lightly it did not disturb the cloth she wore.“Hmm,” Akyran hummed his sigh out through his nose, trying to sup
Due to the nature of magic around the Court of Light, the portal opened at the gates into the town. We both looked up automatically, the winding stone roads guiding the eye to the gleaming white walls of the castle in the center of the township, the terraces spilling greenery over the edges, and the open windows billowing the sheer curtains out.We could see the brightly colour courtiers strolling the walkways. From the gathering of minstrels, and the number of courtiers on the terrace from the main hall, Queen Leamoira was entertaining outside.We approached the gates, and the guards saluted us. “Prince Akyran, Princess Ecaeris!”I grumbled under my breath as we began the slow climb through the tidy houses with their white-washed walls and dark wood.“Oh, shush,” Akyran smirked. “When you marry a prince, it makes you a princess.”“Siorin