The early morning sun filtered into the room through its only window. Gilded by the sun's drenching rays, the room's meager furnishings reflected the light bathing the room in an eerie glow. A small battered desk cluttered with scrolls, inkwells in various states of fullness, quills, and a small figurine stood in the corner. An equally distraught chair stood beside it, threatening to collapse under the stack of books atop it. A three legged stool, sat under the desk awaiting use. The floor had a single tattered rug covering it, its designs long faded from years of use and little cleaning. A small trunk at the foot of the bed, peeked out from beneath a plain wool dress with matching stockings. The large form on the bed stirred and groaned as the light touched its head. The bed let out a matching groan as its occupant moved.
The door to the room gave a complaining squeal as it was slowly pushed open. "If the temple is still standing, you had better hope you have your affairs in order," came a muffled voice from beneath he covers.
"I am sorry Shendar Airtreille, but Shendar Frosmein sent me," Sonya said calmly as she poked her head around the door, "He requests you come to his chambers. He said it is an urgent matter."
"I'd recognize that voice anywhere," the voice stated gruffly as the bed covers flung aside. The woman that sat up could only be described as wide. She had a round face matching the rest of her. "Shendar Frosmein will wait until I am ready to join him. I don't care if the archives are afire. Wait for me in the hall, Sonya, I'll be out shortly."
"Yes, Shendar Airtreille," Sonya bobbed a quick curtsy, "Please hurry though, Shendar Frosmein did say he wished you to break fast with him. He also said I should mention the accord or some such, though the why I do not know."
At the mention of the accord, Shendar Ainoin Airtreille sat bolt upright, "Wait in the hall child, I shall be right out." With a grunt she was on her feet and reaching for her dress. As Sonya backed out of the room, Ainoin crossed to the corner of the room where a small washstand held a basin and pitcher of water. After washing her face, Ainoin dressed and opened the door to find Sonya waiting patiently.
"Sonya, I should have simply dismissed you, I do know where Shendar Frosmein's rooms lay," Ainoin stated calmly, "since you are here, you may as well fetch me water for my washstand and take my dirty linens to the washer for me."
"Apologies Shendar Airtreille, but Shendar Frosmein specifically directed me to return with you," Sonya met Shendar Airtreille's gaze with a touch of defiance. Ainoin allowed a small frown to cross her face as she tapped her toe. Sonya meekly lowered her head, "I will see to it when Shendar Frosmein releases me."
"We shall see. This may take some time," Ainoin gestured for Sonya to lead the way, "should we meet a servant, we will direct them to it, else you may do it. I do believe you are to be the subject of the conversation with Stendoran, I mean Shendar Frosmein."
Startled, Sonya stopped nearly causing Ainoin to run her over, "I am to be the subject?! But...why?" Sonya demanded, recovering herself she stepped out quickly, "if I may ask, that is?"
"Be at ease, my dear. It is no error on your part of which we will talk. You've done nothing wrong have you?" Ainoin replied with a chuckle.
"Not today, Shendar Airtreille," Sonya replied meekly.
"Not today, is it?" Ainoin stated suspiciously, "Sonya, you are not this meek unless there is more to it and today is not yet 3 hours old. What happened between the evening meal when I saw you last and this morning? Out with it."
"I was in a fight," Sonya mumbled.
"With whom and would they call it a fight?"
"It was with Temeille Tesmoln. She called me a name and I knocked her down," Sonya stated flatly. Lifting her head she continued, "I stand ready to be punished as appropriate for my crime."
Ainoin shook her head and laughed softly, "crime, my dear? While it is not the wisest decision to resort to violence, I doubt that a mere name would lead you to knock down a fellow student, besides, I have no doubt you have already apologized to Temeille ten times over," Ainoin patted Sonya's shoulder, "if you wish we will inquire into this altercation when we are done with Shendar Frosmein. Remember your Corteneall, 'The wise do neither seek nor avoid punishment, just or unjust.' It makes me wonder," Ainoin paused and turned Sonya to face her, "Sonya, it appears as though you try to err and seek punishment. Why?"
Sonya bowed her head, refusing to meet Ainoin's gaze, "I feel as though I am treated specially. As though, because I have lived here my entire life, I am dealt with less...as though I am perfect. I'm not and I don't deserve to be treated any better," Sonya raised her head, tears began to run from her eyes as she glared with righteous anger, "I am not special. I am no better than any other student. Temeille deserves the respect she gets. She works hard and is talented. She deserves all she gets. So why do I get what she deserves? I just want to be one of them. Why can't I be? What makes me different?"
Ainoin hugged Sonya and stroked her hair, "we do not mean to treat you differently. You are as a daughter us all. That is our failing. You are right, you should be treated no different and you aren't. You are special, but that discussion is for another time, right now, we need to get to Shendar Frosmein's quarters. Dry your eyes and let us carry on."
Sonya wiped the tears from her cheeks with her sleeve, "Yes, Shendar Airtreille."
As they passed through the halls they met several students and servants about their morning chores. Ainoin grabbed a young student and directed her to her apartments to take care of the basin and clothes. They soon entered the halls for the Shendar who had chosen to marry and came to Shendar Frosmein's door. Her knock drew a deep, "enter," from within. Sonya opened the door and held it for Ainoin as they entered.
"Shendar Airtreille, answering the summons of Shendar Frosmein as delivered by student Arranna Sonya Clenfell," Sonya announced formally.
"I can see who it is, Sonya, you need not shout it to the world," Shendar Frosmein stated calmly from his chair before the fire.
The room was warm despite the winters chill. The fire in the hearth ensured that. Two cushioned chairs sat before the fire place with a small stand between them. On it lay a copy of "Kirshon's Philosophies" beside tray holding a steaming teapot and two cups. Behind the chair, a rug of intricate design and high quality weaving covered the floor. A simple cushioned bench stood against the wall beside the bookcases containing a books stacked in all directions. Opposite the door through which they had entered an archway led into a hallway and the kitchen from which the aroma of baking bread wafted.
Shendar Frosmein stood and crossed the room to Ainoin, "Thank you, Arranna, You may go to the kitchen, I am sure my wife will have something for you to eat," he directed sternly, "Shendar Airtreille and I have important matters to discuss which I believe you would find are of little interest and do not concern you."
"Thank you, Shendar Frosmein, but I have chores and my studies, if it please you," Sonya replied respectfully.
"That was no request, Arranna. Shendar Airtreille and I have need to speak with you when we are done. Now go and eat. Despite any rumor you may have heard, my wife is a wonderful cook. We will call you when we are ready." Stendoran's tone left no room for argument.
"Yes, Shendar Frosmein, as you wish." Sonya bowed and left the room toward the kitchen, the aromas reaching her and causing her stomach to growl audibly in anticipation of the meal to come.
Thursday, December 15, 2011
Monday, December 5, 2011
Chapter One: Section 5: A decision of experience.
Shendar Frosmien turned back to face the council of seven. The council sat in a simple half circle in front of the too large fireplace. Though fall had only just begun, there was already a nip in the air and a low fire burned, warding off the evenings chill. Glasses full of wine sat largely ignored and untouched. Intensity played across every face revealing the strongest of feelings.
"I will not stand for this outrage," Shendar Frosmien bellowed suddenly causing the council to jump, "There is no stronger student than Sonya. How dare you deny her the right to test."
"At you ease Stendoran, we do not mean to give insult," said the regal man in the center, "we understand that she has the knowledge, strength, and abilities to be Shendar, we are just not sure whether she has the understanding necessary. You, yourself, have detailed many of the questions she has asked. Many of these questions are easily understood by most, if not all, of our first year students. Yet, she continues to ask them," In a more gentle voice he continued, "we have begun to wonder whether raising her here has sheltered her to much from the real world. How can one truly understand evil if one has never met it? While one may have studied how an orc treats captives, one can not fully comprehend just how heinous it is until he has seen what is left after the fact. We do not find that Sonya has that experience. She is the first student we have ever had that has never left the confines of our temple, and, yet you propose that we give her the mantle of Shendar and send her into a world she does not comprehend and has never seen? Surely you see the folly of this?"
"Shendar Astrun, I understand your concern, but how do you propose we give her this comprehension without sending her out to learn it first hand?" Holding up his hand to forestall any answer, Shendar Frosmien continued, "I do not need to remind you that no student leaves the temple unless they are put out and banished or they have become Shendar. That is the law. That is what we must follow. To do otherwise would put the lie to all that we have taught. With out law there is chaos. Even the king must follow his own law or it is no law, but a means of oppression. That being said, I see no other way but to see that she be allowed to attempt the trials, be named Shendar, as there is no doubt that she can pass them, and then to set her on a course to receive this experience.
"Surely you can see this as well as I," He continued passion filling his words, "How do you think she will react if we tell her we have no more we can teach her, but we can not let her take the trials? We must give her the chance."
Silence settled on the room as thoughtful frowns appeared on the faces of the council. Shendar Astrun rose and walked behind his chair with the rest of the council following him. Stendoran stood silently with his hand clasped before him. Was he being foolhardy in his passionate arguing for Sonya? He had never had any student grasp the complexities that lie within his philosophical teaching with such ease. All her instructors said the same. In every thing Sonya did she excelled. Yet, Shendar Astrun was right, Sonya was naive and too trusting. She had no understanding of the world outside the temple walls. She had knowledge, but she had no understanding. She could repeat the history of many of the lands, yet she could not understand why some children played in the street in rags on one block while on the next there could be a wealthy merchant. She could understand greed to a certain degree, but couldn't grasp how someone could have the means to prevent suffering and not do so.
Stendoran also grasped the important fact that, should the council prevent Sonya from testing, Sonya would consider the council corrupt. And by all her teaching she would be correct. There was no ambiguity in the law. Sonya may be humble enough not to mention that she was ready for the test, but there was no denying that she knew where she stood. No Shendar that had been in the temple for more than a week doubted that Sonya would easily pass the trials. The fact that Shendar visiting assumed Sonya was Shendar after speaking with her for even short periods.
While it was true that the council could put off this decision for another year on the grounds of age, it changed nothing. Students simply were not put out of the temple until they were either Shendar or banished. Stendoran studied his feet, his eye somehow drawn to a small thread that was working its way loose from the toe of his shoe. As the thread wavered with the movements of the air, he was suddenly struck by a lesson he had given years ago.
"Shendar Astrun," he practically shouted. The council went silent and turned unhappy stares toward Stendoran, "I apologize for interrupting, but I just had an epiphany."
The council slowly returned to their seats. Astrun gestured for Stendoran to continue. "Bear with me as I give a brief history lesson. About three hundred years ago, toward the end of the reign of King Shangui of Cartenhinge, the king's son was being trained to rule his people. The king, who you know was raised from the commoners and had no noble blood, was worried that his son would have no understanding of the common man and would thus be a poor ruler. He did the only thing he could. He banished his only son. The king told only three of his scouts why he had done so. No one else was to know, not even his son. The prince was stripped of his titles and money, dressed in rags, and thrown out into the city. The three scouts were secretly sent to follow and protect the son, but only from death. The son used the skills he had learned as a prince to find employment as a guard for caravans, and then to run these caravans. At the end of three years, The prince had become a merchant of decent standing and was invited to meet the king. The king then invited him back and named him his successor. The prince became King Darshon the Kind."
"We know this story, Stendoran," Astrun interrupted, "what relevance does it have to our situation? Surely you aren't suggesting that we do this to Sonya?"
"No, no, not at all," Stendoran chuckled, "what I suggest is that we offer her a way of gaining the experience she needs. A way that does not violate law, yet, allows us to put her into the world to gain the experience she needs. While the king used banishment, we shall find another means."
"I assume you have something in mind?"
"Of course. We simply have her attend a Shendar Corven as he messenger for a period of a year. We will just make sure the right Shendar Corven is chosen and that he takes her where she will gain the experience needed."
"Shendar Frosmien, you have a devious mind," Astrun chuckled, "I am glad you are not the enemy. It shall be as you say. You shall see to it and are responsible for it. We will reconvene on this matter on Winters Fall in one year."
"Thank you, Shendar Astrun, it will be as you say. May the light shine on you and keep you."
"May the light shine on you and keep you."
Shendar Frosmien bowed and hurriedly left the room. A smile crossed his face as he realized he had just found a way for a student to leave the temple without being Shendar or banished. Now he only had to find a Shendar Corven wise enough and experienced enough to handle Sonya. He also had to explain to Sonya her new job. He was dreading both tasks and couldn't decide which would be tougher. The truth was, telling Sonya would be the tougher. With that thought in mind, he went to the kitchens. Better to work on a full stomach.
"I will not stand for this outrage," Shendar Frosmien bellowed suddenly causing the council to jump, "There is no stronger student than Sonya. How dare you deny her the right to test."
"At you ease Stendoran, we do not mean to give insult," said the regal man in the center, "we understand that she has the knowledge, strength, and abilities to be Shendar, we are just not sure whether she has the understanding necessary. You, yourself, have detailed many of the questions she has asked. Many of these questions are easily understood by most, if not all, of our first year students. Yet, she continues to ask them," In a more gentle voice he continued, "we have begun to wonder whether raising her here has sheltered her to much from the real world. How can one truly understand evil if one has never met it? While one may have studied how an orc treats captives, one can not fully comprehend just how heinous it is until he has seen what is left after the fact. We do not find that Sonya has that experience. She is the first student we have ever had that has never left the confines of our temple, and, yet you propose that we give her the mantle of Shendar and send her into a world she does not comprehend and has never seen? Surely you see the folly of this?"
"Shendar Astrun, I understand your concern, but how do you propose we give her this comprehension without sending her out to learn it first hand?" Holding up his hand to forestall any answer, Shendar Frosmien continued, "I do not need to remind you that no student leaves the temple unless they are put out and banished or they have become Shendar. That is the law. That is what we must follow. To do otherwise would put the lie to all that we have taught. With out law there is chaos. Even the king must follow his own law or it is no law, but a means of oppression. That being said, I see no other way but to see that she be allowed to attempt the trials, be named Shendar, as there is no doubt that she can pass them, and then to set her on a course to receive this experience.
"Surely you can see this as well as I," He continued passion filling his words, "How do you think she will react if we tell her we have no more we can teach her, but we can not let her take the trials? We must give her the chance."
Silence settled on the room as thoughtful frowns appeared on the faces of the council. Shendar Astrun rose and walked behind his chair with the rest of the council following him. Stendoran stood silently with his hand clasped before him. Was he being foolhardy in his passionate arguing for Sonya? He had never had any student grasp the complexities that lie within his philosophical teaching with such ease. All her instructors said the same. In every thing Sonya did she excelled. Yet, Shendar Astrun was right, Sonya was naive and too trusting. She had no understanding of the world outside the temple walls. She had knowledge, but she had no understanding. She could repeat the history of many of the lands, yet she could not understand why some children played in the street in rags on one block while on the next there could be a wealthy merchant. She could understand greed to a certain degree, but couldn't grasp how someone could have the means to prevent suffering and not do so.
Stendoran also grasped the important fact that, should the council prevent Sonya from testing, Sonya would consider the council corrupt. And by all her teaching she would be correct. There was no ambiguity in the law. Sonya may be humble enough not to mention that she was ready for the test, but there was no denying that she knew where she stood. No Shendar that had been in the temple for more than a week doubted that Sonya would easily pass the trials. The fact that Shendar visiting assumed Sonya was Shendar after speaking with her for even short periods.
While it was true that the council could put off this decision for another year on the grounds of age, it changed nothing. Students simply were not put out of the temple until they were either Shendar or banished. Stendoran studied his feet, his eye somehow drawn to a small thread that was working its way loose from the toe of his shoe. As the thread wavered with the movements of the air, he was suddenly struck by a lesson he had given years ago.
"Shendar Astrun," he practically shouted. The council went silent and turned unhappy stares toward Stendoran, "I apologize for interrupting, but I just had an epiphany."
The council slowly returned to their seats. Astrun gestured for Stendoran to continue. "Bear with me as I give a brief history lesson. About three hundred years ago, toward the end of the reign of King Shangui of Cartenhinge, the king's son was being trained to rule his people. The king, who you know was raised from the commoners and had no noble blood, was worried that his son would have no understanding of the common man and would thus be a poor ruler. He did the only thing he could. He banished his only son. The king told only three of his scouts why he had done so. No one else was to know, not even his son. The prince was stripped of his titles and money, dressed in rags, and thrown out into the city. The three scouts were secretly sent to follow and protect the son, but only from death. The son used the skills he had learned as a prince to find employment as a guard for caravans, and then to run these caravans. At the end of three years, The prince had become a merchant of decent standing and was invited to meet the king. The king then invited him back and named him his successor. The prince became King Darshon the Kind."
"We know this story, Stendoran," Astrun interrupted, "what relevance does it have to our situation? Surely you aren't suggesting that we do this to Sonya?"
"No, no, not at all," Stendoran chuckled, "what I suggest is that we offer her a way of gaining the experience she needs. A way that does not violate law, yet, allows us to put her into the world to gain the experience she needs. While the king used banishment, we shall find another means."
"I assume you have something in mind?"
"Of course. We simply have her attend a Shendar Corven as he messenger for a period of a year. We will just make sure the right Shendar Corven is chosen and that he takes her where she will gain the experience needed."
"Shendar Frosmien, you have a devious mind," Astrun chuckled, "I am glad you are not the enemy. It shall be as you say. You shall see to it and are responsible for it. We will reconvene on this matter on Winters Fall in one year."
"Thank you, Shendar Astrun, it will be as you say. May the light shine on you and keep you."
"May the light shine on you and keep you."
Shendar Frosmien bowed and hurriedly left the room. A smile crossed his face as he realized he had just found a way for a student to leave the temple without being Shendar or banished. Now he only had to find a Shendar Corven wise enough and experienced enough to handle Sonya. He also had to explain to Sonya her new job. He was dreading both tasks and couldn't decide which would be tougher. The truth was, telling Sonya would be the tougher. With that thought in mind, he went to the kitchens. Better to work on a full stomach.
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
Chapter one, Section 4: The mace and the peace.
The sound of steel crashing onto steel reverberated through the courtyard. Two figures clad in steel seemed to flow a dance of battle. Both wielded mace and shield as though they were a part of the body. Slowly, they circled each other, gauging their opponents defenses. Slow strikes crashed into shields quickly raised in defense. At first glance, the figures appeared to be an uneven match. The larger towered over the smaller by nearly a foot and was clearly the stronger of the two. The smaller figure moved in a glide that was quick and smooth. Her flowing hair falling like a golden water fall from beneath her helm. With a cry, she suddenly charged her opponent shield first. With a crash she bounced off of his shield, spun in a circle and struck him between his shoulders with a resounding ring that sent him to his knees.
Releasing his mace he raised his gauntleted hand and slowly rose. Lifting his visor, he bowed to the girl. With a smile, and a hint of amusement in his voice, said, "well done, Sonya, well done. I underestimated you."
"Thank you, Shendar Mornal," Sonya replied as she lifted her visor and bowed in response, "you taught me well. But I still am unsure of the why. Is not our calling to minister to those in need, to heal and to comfort? It would seem counter-productive that we learn to fight and kill."
With a chuckle, Shendar Mornal began to remove his armor. "Sonya, my girl, you always ask questions of heart when logic should guide you and logic when heart should guide you." He shook his head and indicated for her to sit on a bench by the wall. He then motioned for the other students lining the wall to gather round. "The world is not as we would wish it to be. At times, we must fight, not to kill, but to protect. Evil cares not if its opponent can no longer fight, nor even if you mean it no harm. Sometimes you must ACT to protect those you seek to aid and comfort. Sometimes, the act must be violent in return, for violence is all that the aggressor you seek to oppose knows.
"I wish it were not so and that we could heal those without needing to worry that there are people who would seek us harm. We learn to fight, not to harm, but to protect. While the mechanics of fighting can be easily learned, it is the philosophy and morality of the fight we must seek to master. Any fool can hurt another, only one who actively seeks to keep peace can recognize when it is truly necessary to take violent action. Knowing when that action is necessary and only acting in those circumstances, is the difference between aggressor and defender. Does that answer your question?"
"To a degree," Sonya replied, "But why should people seek to harm us? We mean no harm. We seek only peace. What is it that drives men to evil? What is it that drives man to attack his fellow man? It makes no sense. When men work together, so much is accomplished and prosperity is sure to follow. Why is this truth not embraced?"
"You ask questions more suited to Shendar Frosmien's philosophy class, but I will try and answer them as best I can. The simple answer to this all is that there is evil, no matter how we try and defeat it," in a softer voice he added, "this is why we fight." Continuing in a stronger voice, "the long answer is that wherever men gather, one will always try to achieve dominance. The quest for power nearly always leads to evil acts. Those who aggressively pursue power tend to view those who oppose them as mere obstacles to overcome. While you heal those that are hurt, those who did the hurting see your healing as attempts to restore those who would overthrow them and thus you are aiding their enemy. Yet others see it as a means of gaining followers of your own. While it may not be truth, it is how it is perceived. Perceptions do not change easily, even more so for those who see enemies in even those who support them.
"While it is true, that when men work together much can be accomplished, the fact is that man is selfish and tends toward self gratification. Thus, even when men work together, they tend to find fault in others and thus are driven apart unless there is strong leadership. Where there is strong leadership, there is the potential for the leader to seek more power. Sometimes this rears its head as aggressive warlords, sometimes as simply successful, though greedy, merchants."
Shendar Mornal stood and motioned for the students to do the same. "It is near to evening meal. Go remove and clean your armor, then report to your mentors for your chores."
"Yes, Shendar Mornal," they replied as one.
"Sonya, stay for a bit," he called to her.
"Yes, Shendar Mornal," she replied questioningly.
"Sonya, you have progressed quite well. You are to report to Shendar Frosmein tomorrow morning. Tomorrow afternoon, I wish you to teach the novices the beginners class." Mornal smiled and placed a hand on her shoulder, "If you wish to spar, find me. Your weapons and battle training from me is complete. You have been a most worthy student. Now go, or you will be late for your chores."
Releasing his mace he raised his gauntleted hand and slowly rose. Lifting his visor, he bowed to the girl. With a smile, and a hint of amusement in his voice, said, "well done, Sonya, well done. I underestimated you."
"Thank you, Shendar Mornal," Sonya replied as she lifted her visor and bowed in response, "you taught me well. But I still am unsure of the why. Is not our calling to minister to those in need, to heal and to comfort? It would seem counter-productive that we learn to fight and kill."
With a chuckle, Shendar Mornal began to remove his armor. "Sonya, my girl, you always ask questions of heart when logic should guide you and logic when heart should guide you." He shook his head and indicated for her to sit on a bench by the wall. He then motioned for the other students lining the wall to gather round. "The world is not as we would wish it to be. At times, we must fight, not to kill, but to protect. Evil cares not if its opponent can no longer fight, nor even if you mean it no harm. Sometimes you must ACT to protect those you seek to aid and comfort. Sometimes, the act must be violent in return, for violence is all that the aggressor you seek to oppose knows.
"I wish it were not so and that we could heal those without needing to worry that there are people who would seek us harm. We learn to fight, not to harm, but to protect. While the mechanics of fighting can be easily learned, it is the philosophy and morality of the fight we must seek to master. Any fool can hurt another, only one who actively seeks to keep peace can recognize when it is truly necessary to take violent action. Knowing when that action is necessary and only acting in those circumstances, is the difference between aggressor and defender. Does that answer your question?"
"To a degree," Sonya replied, "But why should people seek to harm us? We mean no harm. We seek only peace. What is it that drives men to evil? What is it that drives man to attack his fellow man? It makes no sense. When men work together, so much is accomplished and prosperity is sure to follow. Why is this truth not embraced?"
"You ask questions more suited to Shendar Frosmien's philosophy class, but I will try and answer them as best I can. The simple answer to this all is that there is evil, no matter how we try and defeat it," in a softer voice he added, "this is why we fight." Continuing in a stronger voice, "the long answer is that wherever men gather, one will always try to achieve dominance. The quest for power nearly always leads to evil acts. Those who aggressively pursue power tend to view those who oppose them as mere obstacles to overcome. While you heal those that are hurt, those who did the hurting see your healing as attempts to restore those who would overthrow them and thus you are aiding their enemy. Yet others see it as a means of gaining followers of your own. While it may not be truth, it is how it is perceived. Perceptions do not change easily, even more so for those who see enemies in even those who support them.
"While it is true, that when men work together much can be accomplished, the fact is that man is selfish and tends toward self gratification. Thus, even when men work together, they tend to find fault in others and thus are driven apart unless there is strong leadership. Where there is strong leadership, there is the potential for the leader to seek more power. Sometimes this rears its head as aggressive warlords, sometimes as simply successful, though greedy, merchants."
Shendar Mornal stood and motioned for the students to do the same. "It is near to evening meal. Go remove and clean your armor, then report to your mentors for your chores."
"Yes, Shendar Mornal," they replied as one.
"Sonya, stay for a bit," he called to her.
"Yes, Shendar Mornal," she replied questioningly.
"Sonya, you have progressed quite well. You are to report to Shendar Frosmein tomorrow morning. Tomorrow afternoon, I wish you to teach the novices the beginners class." Mornal smiled and placed a hand on her shoulder, "If you wish to spar, find me. Your weapons and battle training from me is complete. You have been a most worthy student. Now go, or you will be late for your chores."
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
Chapter 1: Section 3: The darkness comes.
The room lit in a flash of green light. Bare stone walls reflected the light revealing a cloaked and shapeless figure centered on the stone floor. The room was a scant 10 ft across at its widest. The ceiling rose twenty feet above the floor, a grated opening centered in it permitted the moon to provide the only source of illumination for the room.
Arms crossed, determining any more than the fact that this was indeed humanoid was impossible.No sound escaped the lips of the man chained to the wall, a silent scream frozen on his face. Blood streamed from multiple cuts across his bare chest. The figure didn't move, but the man's back suddenly arched as though trying to escape the chains that held him. At long last, the scream that wouldn't come broke through and reverberated throughout the chamber. Drawn out, it pierced the darkness. Pigeons roosting near the grate leaped into the air in a flurry of flapping wings and dislodged feathers. As the echos of the horrifying cry died away, the figure moved towards the now limply hanging body.
"As I said," it's voiced rasped, "though you may wish the sweet embrace of death, I will not let it have you until I am done. Now answer, human," the disdain and hatred bled from the word like an epithet of the vilest sort, "Who are you? Who sent you? and most importantly, what is it they seek?"
"My name....is...Rasha Limgarn..." came the faint response.
An arm shot out from the figure and a sharply taloned, scale covered hand grasped the man's chin, "Rasha, fool in the ancient tongue. Fitting. Now, who sent you. Answer, or shall we see just how lovely your scream is again?" The tone told the preferred course.
"No...no one....where...sent...where?"
"So, either you are a fool, you are stronger than thought, which I doubt, or you truly did stumble upon us. We shall learn which it is soon enough." The figure released Rasha's chin and turned to the corner, "Keep him alive and get as much information as you can from him. I doubt he is just a traveler."
A second figure, a tall human, stepped out of the shadows. Human may not be the best description. His well shaped, muscular body was gray. Even in the dim light of the moon, it was obvious this was not a trick of the light. A leather belt held up a worn loin cloth and sported a well cared for knife. Curved and nearly 18 inches in length, the knife just missed being called a sword. The moonlight gleamed off of its razor edge, its dark hilt shone from use. Atop the overly large shoulder sat a bald head. A scar ran across the right cheek making the too wide mouth seem even wider. Small eyes set beneath a large brow gave the impression of a permanent glower. On his bare feet he crossed to the man hanging on the wall and drew his knife.
"And, Keergan, do not let this one goad you as the last did. I should hate to have to replace you. I really don't have the time to train someone new." It was a simple statement of fact. No emotion or spark of concern entered the voice.
"Yes, master," Came the deep reply, "as you wish."
"Good. I will return in a few days for your report. Pray I am not disappointed." With that, the figure stepped into the the shadows and vanished.
A grin of malevolence touched Keergan's lips, " we have things to discuss, Rasha. Wake and be damned."
As screams reverberated through the grate, the inhabitants of the fortress went about their business. Some even smiled as though listening to sweet music
Arms crossed, determining any more than the fact that this was indeed humanoid was impossible.No sound escaped the lips of the man chained to the wall, a silent scream frozen on his face. Blood streamed from multiple cuts across his bare chest. The figure didn't move, but the man's back suddenly arched as though trying to escape the chains that held him. At long last, the scream that wouldn't come broke through and reverberated throughout the chamber. Drawn out, it pierced the darkness. Pigeons roosting near the grate leaped into the air in a flurry of flapping wings and dislodged feathers. As the echos of the horrifying cry died away, the figure moved towards the now limply hanging body.
"As I said," it's voiced rasped, "though you may wish the sweet embrace of death, I will not let it have you until I am done. Now answer, human," the disdain and hatred bled from the word like an epithet of the vilest sort, "Who are you? Who sent you? and most importantly, what is it they seek?"
"My name....is...Rasha Limgarn..." came the faint response.
An arm shot out from the figure and a sharply taloned, scale covered hand grasped the man's chin, "Rasha, fool in the ancient tongue. Fitting. Now, who sent you. Answer, or shall we see just how lovely your scream is again?" The tone told the preferred course.
"No...no one....where...sent...where?"
"So, either you are a fool, you are stronger than thought, which I doubt, or you truly did stumble upon us. We shall learn which it is soon enough." The figure released Rasha's chin and turned to the corner, "Keep him alive and get as much information as you can from him. I doubt he is just a traveler."
A second figure, a tall human, stepped out of the shadows. Human may not be the best description. His well shaped, muscular body was gray. Even in the dim light of the moon, it was obvious this was not a trick of the light. A leather belt held up a worn loin cloth and sported a well cared for knife. Curved and nearly 18 inches in length, the knife just missed being called a sword. The moonlight gleamed off of its razor edge, its dark hilt shone from use. Atop the overly large shoulder sat a bald head. A scar ran across the right cheek making the too wide mouth seem even wider. Small eyes set beneath a large brow gave the impression of a permanent glower. On his bare feet he crossed to the man hanging on the wall and drew his knife.
"And, Keergan, do not let this one goad you as the last did. I should hate to have to replace you. I really don't have the time to train someone new." It was a simple statement of fact. No emotion or spark of concern entered the voice.
"Yes, master," Came the deep reply, "as you wish."
"Good. I will return in a few days for your report. Pray I am not disappointed." With that, the figure stepped into the the shadows and vanished.
A grin of malevolence touched Keergan's lips, " we have things to discuss, Rasha. Wake and be damned."
As screams reverberated through the grate, the inhabitants of the fortress went about their business. Some even smiled as though listening to sweet music
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
Chapter one: Section two: Good Byes
Argus sat the bowl of fruit on the well worn and simple table in what was his kitchen. Arranna sat opposite him waiting expectantly for him to join her.
"What troubles you father?" Sonya asked quietly. Her eyes, wide in innocence, dug into his soul. He knew that what he was to tell her would not be easy.
Ass he sat down and poured her a glass of wine, he sighed as he looked into his glass. "I must go to the temple in Firishon. The Shendar Corven there has passed and I have been selected to replace him." He paused and looked up into her eyes. Instead of the pain and accusation he expected, he saw only expectation and joy and a gentle smile on her lips. "Does it please you that I leave you, daughter? Does it not sadden you that it will not be until you complete your training that I see you again? I tell you news that saddens me deeply and you smile. Am I that harsh?"
Sonya's face registered confusion and hurt, "No father, I am glad for you. I will surely miss you and it does pain me, but I am more glad for you than for the pain I feel for myself. You are most deserving of this and I no longer require your care," reaching across the table, she placed a hand on his arm, "though I do enjoy it, and you have become a much better cook, you have made me quite able to care for myself."
"I am sorry, daughter," he spoke softly, "I am torn. I wish so much to be with you and watch over you, but I must also do my duty."
"You have, father, you have. Though you are not my birth father, I could wish for no better father than you. My only concern with this is who will keep you from trouble and do your laundry if I am not there?" she finished with a giggle.
"I was doing my own laundry long before you were able to dress yourself, thank you," he replied with a laugh.
"When do you leave? I must make sure you receive a proper send off."
"I leave in two hours, I can wait no longer than that if I am to reach Nargina before nightfall. I will miss you daughter."
"Two hours! How can I prepare you for your journey in such short a time?," Sonya took a look around the room and saw his pack against the wall for the first time, "I see you are prepared already. You already knew you were leaving and failed to tell me. Why did you wait? Did you fear I would love you less or is it that you felt I would try and keep you here?"
"Daughter, I did not tell you because I could not face my own pain," Argus stared at the table, tears welling in his eyes, "You became my world after Claras died. Now I am leaving that world to join a new one. Though I wish only to watch you grow, I can no longer be selfish. You have become a fine young woman and I am honored to have you as my daughter. Be at peace, and know that I will always be your father. I will write every chance I get and I look forward to reading your letters as well. There are weekly couriers and I expect a letter on each one, just as you may expect one. I also trust that when you finish your testing you will visit me."
Sonya stood and crossed to where he sat. Enfolding him in her arms in a strong hug, she simply held him as her tears began to flow. "I will, father. I will study even harder knowing that I will see you all the sooner for it. Now, let us get you ready for travel. I will clean your apartments and ensure the rest of your clothing and items follow you."
They were silent as Sonya helped Argus don his armor and tie the bedroll and travel necessities onto the pack mule. A small contingent of six other clerics were waiting on him as he took the reins of his horse. Sonya crossed to him and gave him a lingering hug.
"Take care, father," she said softly through the knot in her throat, "May the light keep you and guide you. Peace be upon you in your journeys and may they be quick and safe."
"Peace be upon you, daughter, may you be blessed in the light and in your days."
Not trusting himself to look at her with out tears blinding him, Argus mounted and rode out of the temple grounds. Sonya watched from the gate until long after the dust settled and the group was no more than a speck on the horizon.
"The light keep you and shelter you," she whispered as she turned into the yard wiping tears from her eyes, "The light keep you."
"What troubles you father?" Sonya asked quietly. Her eyes, wide in innocence, dug into his soul. He knew that what he was to tell her would not be easy.
Ass he sat down and poured her a glass of wine, he sighed as he looked into his glass. "I must go to the temple in Firishon. The Shendar Corven there has passed and I have been selected to replace him." He paused and looked up into her eyes. Instead of the pain and accusation he expected, he saw only expectation and joy and a gentle smile on her lips. "Does it please you that I leave you, daughter? Does it not sadden you that it will not be until you complete your training that I see you again? I tell you news that saddens me deeply and you smile. Am I that harsh?"
Sonya's face registered confusion and hurt, "No father, I am glad for you. I will surely miss you and it does pain me, but I am more glad for you than for the pain I feel for myself. You are most deserving of this and I no longer require your care," reaching across the table, she placed a hand on his arm, "though I do enjoy it, and you have become a much better cook, you have made me quite able to care for myself."
"I am sorry, daughter," he spoke softly, "I am torn. I wish so much to be with you and watch over you, but I must also do my duty."
"You have, father, you have. Though you are not my birth father, I could wish for no better father than you. My only concern with this is who will keep you from trouble and do your laundry if I am not there?" she finished with a giggle.
"I was doing my own laundry long before you were able to dress yourself, thank you," he replied with a laugh.
"When do you leave? I must make sure you receive a proper send off."
"I leave in two hours, I can wait no longer than that if I am to reach Nargina before nightfall. I will miss you daughter."
"Two hours! How can I prepare you for your journey in such short a time?," Sonya took a look around the room and saw his pack against the wall for the first time, "I see you are prepared already. You already knew you were leaving and failed to tell me. Why did you wait? Did you fear I would love you less or is it that you felt I would try and keep you here?"
"Daughter, I did not tell you because I could not face my own pain," Argus stared at the table, tears welling in his eyes, "You became my world after Claras died. Now I am leaving that world to join a new one. Though I wish only to watch you grow, I can no longer be selfish. You have become a fine young woman and I am honored to have you as my daughter. Be at peace, and know that I will always be your father. I will write every chance I get and I look forward to reading your letters as well. There are weekly couriers and I expect a letter on each one, just as you may expect one. I also trust that when you finish your testing you will visit me."
Sonya stood and crossed to where he sat. Enfolding him in her arms in a strong hug, she simply held him as her tears began to flow. "I will, father. I will study even harder knowing that I will see you all the sooner for it. Now, let us get you ready for travel. I will clean your apartments and ensure the rest of your clothing and items follow you."
They were silent as Sonya helped Argus don his armor and tie the bedroll and travel necessities onto the pack mule. A small contingent of six other clerics were waiting on him as he took the reins of his horse. Sonya crossed to him and gave him a lingering hug.
"Take care, father," she said softly through the knot in her throat, "May the light keep you and guide you. Peace be upon you in your journeys and may they be quick and safe."
"Peace be upon you, daughter, may you be blessed in the light and in your days."
Not trusting himself to look at her with out tears blinding him, Argus mounted and rode out of the temple grounds. Sonya watched from the gate until long after the dust settled and the group was no more than a speck on the horizon.
"The light keep you and shelter you," she whispered as she turned into the yard wiping tears from her eyes, "The light keep you."
Tuesday, August 30, 2011
Chapter One: A New Dawn Part one: Sonya
The sun filtered through the course curtains, barely touching the sparse furnishings of the tiny room. It was really more of a cell, but its inhabitant called it home. A simple wood desk lay against one wall with a stubby candle mounted in its own wax on the edge. A well used chair sat under the desk and looked as though it would collapse at its next use. A bed on the opposite wall with barely enough room for the chair between it and the desk held a form under worn blankets with only a fan of golden hair covering a flattened pillow visible. A bird began its morning song outside the window and the form stirred then sat up.
Even with sleep still in her eyes, she could only be called beautiful. Long tresses of golden hair fell down her back and over a shapely shoulder. Her shift was simple and revealed little, but still managed to show a young woman just entering maturity. As she stretched, she opened her eyes and opened the curtains. The light only further enhanced the gold in her hair. Her bright blue eyes looked out onto the ancient oak tree from which the birdsong greeted her. Her lips parted revealing her glistening teeth in a smile as she greeted the day. Her pert nose lifted slightly as she inhaled the fragrance of the rose garden below.
"Morning, Daughter," Came a deep voice from below, "Sleeping in again, I see. It is nearly time to break your fast, and you have chores that yet need doing."
Looking down, she saw her father crossing the garden below. "Yes, Father," she called in a musical voice. Ducking back into the room, she quickly dressed. Her dress was a simple brown dress, yet it was of a high quality wool. A plain lace edging gave it an elegant appearance and lent a certain dignity to it. She quickly brushed and braided her hair and donned her slippers.
As she stepped out of her room, she nearly collided with a plump woman with a round face framed in graying hair cut into a simple bob. "I beg your pardon, Mistress Sametha. I am sorry to have kept you," she said with honest reverence as she curtsied deeply.
"Nonsense, Arranna," she replied kindly, "you are simply beginning your day, you have kept me from nothing. But I must ask, why do you insist on sleeping in the initiates quarters instead of in your father's apartments? Do you rebel against him? Is he treating you harshly?"
"No, Mistress," Arranna answered hurriedly and embarrassment, "why should I be treated different from the other initiates? I am no better. Why should I sleep in a comfortable room with my parents when the other initiates sleep here, away from their families? Though I see my father daily, I feel for my fellows. I cannot help but hear the newest crying themselves to sleep for the heartache of missing their families. I would offer them what I have would it help, but I am merely accused of being spiteful. I wish only to ease their pain. So is it wrong that I choose to sleep here with my piers and attempt some form of compassion through some form of shared, though lesser, pain?"
Sametha sighed and shook her head, "you surely are a wonder," she said under her breath. "No it is not wrong, not now at least. Go to your father, he has news for you. Be quick, or I will give you an infraction for delaying in obedience."
Sametha watched as Arranna dashed around the corner and out of sight. These past 16 years had been interesting to say the least. Arranna, or Sonya as she preferred to be called, was the model child of a priest, despite not being born within the temple walls. She had grown, surrounded by the hustle and bustle that was the temple. Her adoptive father, Shendar Argus Clenfell, had married her adoptive mother, Claras, when she was 2. Unfortunately, Claras had died in child birth a mere 2 years later, leaving Argus a widower with a young daughter. Even when Sonya discovered the truth of her adoption at 8, she had simply hugged her father and showed her love for him that much more. In reality, she had become the daughter of all of the priests and priestesses in the temple. She had even softened Sametha. Sonya seemed to take it as an affront when someone didn't like her, and set out to friend even her enemies.
She rarely got into trouble and when she did upset someone, it was usually because she argued with her instructors. The down side was that she was usually right. As soon as she could read, she had the tomes of the library with her at all times. She was blessed with a voracious appetite for knowledge and an uncanny ability to recognize passages as important that were often overlooked by those much her senior. Sonya was also honest to a fault. No one that Sametha knew had ever caught Sonya in a lie. As far as she knew, Sonya didn't know how to tell one. She could dance around the truth with the best of the nobility when she wanted to, but she rarely did. Even when one of her pranks had nearly got her expelled, she admitted it readily. That alone shows she was not perfect.
Sonya had a devious side to her. With astonishingly regularity, she pulled pranks. They were always well thought out and executed. It had taken months to figure out who the prankster was after her first prank, mainly because it took that long to finally ask her if she had done it. It had been simple but devious. Sametha had returned to her quarters one night to discover that her furniture had been nailed to the walls. It had taken three hours for the carpenters to pry it off so she could go to sleep. It was then that she discovered that even the sheets had been pinned to the bed to ensure they stayed in place. It wasn't until the next morning that she discovered that even her clothes in the drawers of her dresser had been pinned in place. That had been the simplest of her pranks. But that was Sonya, honest, strong, courteous, and devious, a strange mix.
Even with sleep still in her eyes, she could only be called beautiful. Long tresses of golden hair fell down her back and over a shapely shoulder. Her shift was simple and revealed little, but still managed to show a young woman just entering maturity. As she stretched, she opened her eyes and opened the curtains. The light only further enhanced the gold in her hair. Her bright blue eyes looked out onto the ancient oak tree from which the birdsong greeted her. Her lips parted revealing her glistening teeth in a smile as she greeted the day. Her pert nose lifted slightly as she inhaled the fragrance of the rose garden below.
"Morning, Daughter," Came a deep voice from below, "Sleeping in again, I see. It is nearly time to break your fast, and you have chores that yet need doing."
Looking down, she saw her father crossing the garden below. "Yes, Father," she called in a musical voice. Ducking back into the room, she quickly dressed. Her dress was a simple brown dress, yet it was of a high quality wool. A plain lace edging gave it an elegant appearance and lent a certain dignity to it. She quickly brushed and braided her hair and donned her slippers.
As she stepped out of her room, she nearly collided with a plump woman with a round face framed in graying hair cut into a simple bob. "I beg your pardon, Mistress Sametha. I am sorry to have kept you," she said with honest reverence as she curtsied deeply.
"Nonsense, Arranna," she replied kindly, "you are simply beginning your day, you have kept me from nothing. But I must ask, why do you insist on sleeping in the initiates quarters instead of in your father's apartments? Do you rebel against him? Is he treating you harshly?"
"No, Mistress," Arranna answered hurriedly and embarrassment, "why should I be treated different from the other initiates? I am no better. Why should I sleep in a comfortable room with my parents when the other initiates sleep here, away from their families? Though I see my father daily, I feel for my fellows. I cannot help but hear the newest crying themselves to sleep for the heartache of missing their families. I would offer them what I have would it help, but I am merely accused of being spiteful. I wish only to ease their pain. So is it wrong that I choose to sleep here with my piers and attempt some form of compassion through some form of shared, though lesser, pain?"
Sametha sighed and shook her head, "you surely are a wonder," she said under her breath. "No it is not wrong, not now at least. Go to your father, he has news for you. Be quick, or I will give you an infraction for delaying in obedience."
Sametha watched as Arranna dashed around the corner and out of sight. These past 16 years had been interesting to say the least. Arranna, or Sonya as she preferred to be called, was the model child of a priest, despite not being born within the temple walls. She had grown, surrounded by the hustle and bustle that was the temple. Her adoptive father, Shendar Argus Clenfell, had married her adoptive mother, Claras, when she was 2. Unfortunately, Claras had died in child birth a mere 2 years later, leaving Argus a widower with a young daughter. Even when Sonya discovered the truth of her adoption at 8, she had simply hugged her father and showed her love for him that much more. In reality, she had become the daughter of all of the priests and priestesses in the temple. She had even softened Sametha. Sonya seemed to take it as an affront when someone didn't like her, and set out to friend even her enemies.
She rarely got into trouble and when she did upset someone, it was usually because she argued with her instructors. The down side was that she was usually right. As soon as she could read, she had the tomes of the library with her at all times. She was blessed with a voracious appetite for knowledge and an uncanny ability to recognize passages as important that were often overlooked by those much her senior. Sonya was also honest to a fault. No one that Sametha knew had ever caught Sonya in a lie. As far as she knew, Sonya didn't know how to tell one. She could dance around the truth with the best of the nobility when she wanted to, but she rarely did. Even when one of her pranks had nearly got her expelled, she admitted it readily. That alone shows she was not perfect.
Sonya had a devious side to her. With astonishingly regularity, she pulled pranks. They were always well thought out and executed. It had taken months to figure out who the prankster was after her first prank, mainly because it took that long to finally ask her if she had done it. It had been simple but devious. Sametha had returned to her quarters one night to discover that her furniture had been nailed to the walls. It had taken three hours for the carpenters to pry it off so she could go to sleep. It was then that she discovered that even the sheets had been pinned to the bed to ensure they stayed in place. It wasn't until the next morning that she discovered that even her clothes in the drawers of her dresser had been pinned in place. That had been the simplest of her pranks. But that was Sonya, honest, strong, courteous, and devious, a strange mix.
Monday, August 29, 2011
Prolog: The begining.
A cool breeze ruffled the dark and stained curtains of Aemelins bed chamber. The floral patterns had long faded from them, but it was still obvious that they had once been beautiful and opulent. The marble floor contrasted sharply as the sheen from them reflected the flickering light of the candle in the corner. Though worn, it was clear the marble was of the highest quality. Even the bed and desk, though worn with age, were grand and quietly rich in their design. At the desk Aemelins bent over her tomes as she reviewed the previous days work. She slept little of late and woke early. Often she found herself awake hours before even the servants. She wore her ninety years (all that she would acknowledge) well. She walked without the stoop common of old age and her voice was as strong as always. It was all a facade though. Only her will and strength of mind kept her from falling over and embracing the sweetness that was eternal rest. Her aches grew daily and she longed for the day she could join her beloved Georm, but it was not yet to be.
Knuckling her back, she rose slowly and headed to the door. She was sure the kitchens would have something for her. She could see the sun starting to peek over the Angreth Mountains in the east, surely the kitchen staff were up. As she made her way through the halls, the bell from the beggars gate rang loudly, surprising her. She turned toward it and met young Argus Clenfell coming from the gate carrying a blanket covered basket. Argus had been one of the stronger priests in his class. He was first to be named Shendar Corven as well as the biggest. Although he towered over nearly everyone in the temple, he was also known to be the kindest amongst the men. His broad shoulders and square jaws made him the talk in the women's quarters, especially since it was known that he was shy around women.
"Well met, my son," she greeted him with a smile, "what have you? A gift from the village?"
"Greetings, Mistress," he replied formally, "a gift, of a sort, if it please you, a child was left." He pulled back the blanket to reveal a golden haired infant. "She can't be more than a week old, Mistress. No note nor name acoompany her. I was about to take her to the nursery to be tended."
Aemelins eyes opened wide. She stood and stared at nothing as a strange light entered her eyes. Her voice suddenly became strong and deep, "she shall be called Arranna and she shall be the hope for many."
Aemelins collapsed in a heap at Argus's feet. Argus knelt beside her setting the basket beside him, "Mistress!" His voice was threaded with worry.
"Care for her, Argus," Aemelins soft voice carried to him, "raise her as your own. She is the one. I go to my Georm now. Be at peace."
It was a full minute before Argus realized the hand he held had no life in it. He cried out for help and the baby woke with a cry. Soon the hall became crowded with other priests and servants to find Argus gently rocking a baby with a tear streaked face beside the body of the Mistress of the Temple of Arrion.
"What has happened here, Shendar Clenfel?" demanded Sametha Runegold, Second Mistress. As soft and caring as Aemelins had been, Sametha was grating and harsh. She now glowered over Argus.
"The Mistress of the Temple is dead, Mistress," came his soft reply, "She died blessing this child and giving her to my care. I accept what she gave me and will fulfill my duty."
Sametha knelt beside Argus and laid a hand softly on his shoulder. "Be at peace, my son," she said gently, "What name is the child blessed with?"
"Arranna, Mistress," He stated flatly, "Mistress Aemleins named her Arranna, I shall call her Sonya."
Sametha stood, "Arranna Sonya Clenfel, it is," she said softly. Turning to the servants she selected six men and in a gentle voice said, "Take the Mistress's body to her chambers and lay her on her bed."
As the body was lifted, Sametha stood and folded her hands in front of her. Somberly, she addressed the gathered crowd, "The Mistress is dead. Let the great bell ring as is required and gather the enclave. We are in mourning as the Mistress is dead." She then nodded to a young priestess nearby. The girl dashed off to ring the great bell and inform the rest of the Temple.
"Claras tend to Argus and the child. He will need help in raising her."
"Yes, Mistress," came the reply from a young priestess.
Some might have called her pretty, her nearly crimson hair falling in curls framing an oval face. It was rumored that Claras was nobly born, but of all the initiates her age, she was also one of the most caring. Raised to priestess mere weeks ago, she was also one of the most junior. She gently took the infant from Argus and helped him to his feet.
"Come, we will go to the nursery so we can take care of the child."
Knuckling her back, she rose slowly and headed to the door. She was sure the kitchens would have something for her. She could see the sun starting to peek over the Angreth Mountains in the east, surely the kitchen staff were up. As she made her way through the halls, the bell from the beggars gate rang loudly, surprising her. She turned toward it and met young Argus Clenfell coming from the gate carrying a blanket covered basket. Argus had been one of the stronger priests in his class. He was first to be named Shendar Corven as well as the biggest. Although he towered over nearly everyone in the temple, he was also known to be the kindest amongst the men. His broad shoulders and square jaws made him the talk in the women's quarters, especially since it was known that he was shy around women.
"Well met, my son," she greeted him with a smile, "what have you? A gift from the village?"
"Greetings, Mistress," he replied formally, "a gift, of a sort, if it please you, a child was left." He pulled back the blanket to reveal a golden haired infant. "She can't be more than a week old, Mistress. No note nor name acoompany her. I was about to take her to the nursery to be tended."
Aemelins eyes opened wide. She stood and stared at nothing as a strange light entered her eyes. Her voice suddenly became strong and deep, "she shall be called Arranna and she shall be the hope for many."
Aemelins collapsed in a heap at Argus's feet. Argus knelt beside her setting the basket beside him, "Mistress!" His voice was threaded with worry.
"Care for her, Argus," Aemelins soft voice carried to him, "raise her as your own. She is the one. I go to my Georm now. Be at peace."
It was a full minute before Argus realized the hand he held had no life in it. He cried out for help and the baby woke with a cry. Soon the hall became crowded with other priests and servants to find Argus gently rocking a baby with a tear streaked face beside the body of the Mistress of the Temple of Arrion.
"What has happened here, Shendar Clenfel?" demanded Sametha Runegold, Second Mistress. As soft and caring as Aemelins had been, Sametha was grating and harsh. She now glowered over Argus.
"The Mistress of the Temple is dead, Mistress," came his soft reply, "She died blessing this child and giving her to my care. I accept what she gave me and will fulfill my duty."
Sametha knelt beside Argus and laid a hand softly on his shoulder. "Be at peace, my son," she said gently, "What name is the child blessed with?"
"Arranna, Mistress," He stated flatly, "Mistress Aemleins named her Arranna, I shall call her Sonya."
Sametha stood, "Arranna Sonya Clenfel, it is," she said softly. Turning to the servants she selected six men and in a gentle voice said, "Take the Mistress's body to her chambers and lay her on her bed."
As the body was lifted, Sametha stood and folded her hands in front of her. Somberly, she addressed the gathered crowd, "The Mistress is dead. Let the great bell ring as is required and gather the enclave. We are in mourning as the Mistress is dead." She then nodded to a young priestess nearby. The girl dashed off to ring the great bell and inform the rest of the Temple.
"Claras tend to Argus and the child. He will need help in raising her."
"Yes, Mistress," came the reply from a young priestess.
Some might have called her pretty, her nearly crimson hair falling in curls framing an oval face. It was rumored that Claras was nobly born, but of all the initiates her age, she was also one of the most caring. Raised to priestess mere weeks ago, she was also one of the most junior. She gently took the infant from Argus and helped him to his feet.
"Come, we will go to the nursery so we can take care of the child."
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)