Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ Forlorn Throne ❯ The Pledge ( Chapter 4 )

Forlorn Throne

 

Disclaimer: Forlorn Throne and all its contents belong to me, Verity.

 

Dedicated to my overseas muse Roxana.

 

Chapter IV

The Pledge

 

...I have told them all that I believe was the right of it. They know of my true name and my origin. Idly I wonder if they suspect that I have not told all. Of course they would...Of course. They were not half-wits but are magnificent beings. Lihan and Scarlett had done something that was unforeseen. They lived this far, passing their time that would rightfully make them.

 

The children are quite promising as well, Amyas' stock that is. I believe Artemis will be an articulate and well on lass. Aubrey shows promise to be a prized knight and possibly adventurer in his time much like Lihan's Julian. But something troubles me as of late with the children -- Althea and Julian that is. They have had sleeping fits and I suspect that Lihan has as well. I will have to look into such things, ah, the children have arrived for their lessons, I will continue on this at a later time.

 

- Journal Excerpt of Scribe Garland, the Gray Priest

 

He awoke in the morning with a groan, he did not believe he had gotten much sleep but that did not matter. His had sought the lump where the leather bound journal lay underneath him, there it was, sound. He lay his weary head down and let out a sigh, just a bit longer, he told himself. But no, he slipped his legs reluctantly from bed and dropped his face into his hands, rubbing at his weariness. He looked over the room, it was as he had left it, somewhat, an empty bottle and glass, his thing set down by the table and hearth fire had gone out to embers. The sun had spilled into the room.

 

His mind was clear, the dull throb of pain where he had once fallen had become nothing but a faint whisper, and he slipped fingers through his hair, fingertips searching until they came to the spot. Not just that, but things were clear now, it was not all a dream. He knew what he must do but first he must fill himself and bathe, he must look presentable.

 

He had eaten, it was a simple meal, warmly baked bread stuffed with bits of dried fruit and nuts along with a small bowl of steaming broth, after he had carried in buckets of water his bath and scrubbed himself clean, wiping all the dirt of the road from his body and hair before using his belt knife to shave with a small bit of looking glass, it was not much but served its purpose. Soon enough he had emptied the wooden tub and wash basin in which he had used to shave. Dressing he had smoothed down his clothing and hair, brushing it from his face. When next he had looked at himself in the mirror he was a much more presentable man. Clean shaven, washed from the road, his turquoise eyes dark with the burden and task he must carry, his auburn hair, peppered with gray, brushed back from his face and smoothed down in tousled curls. He set aside the mirror and looked about the room, fetching the journal he stuffed it into his satchel, hoping it would provide clues to where the remaining journals or work would lead to the King's true heir, along with that he slipped away his belt knife and sword at his other hip, his cloak pulled tight to somewhat hide away the satchel that rested on the small of his back. Pleased with himself he looked over the room one last time and left it behind.

 

It was a trek to the castle of Haven; it loomed above all, peering down upon the reaches of the town within its protective walls. Its towers pierced the skies, giving sight of the lands, sloping and rising, falling and turning, forested hills, grasslands as far as the eye can sea, wavering like the sea and endless skies. He pulled the cloak around him more tightly to fend off any chill air that seemed to pick and pluck at his clothing. Closer he came to the inner walls of Haven that protected its castle; in truth he had never seen such a point for such inner thicker walls to be built, in his lifetime no one had truly dared to besiege Haven or attempt a breach of their walls. But he oddly wondered, there may come a time when such would be needed. He passed under the gates, the rusted murder holes, unused for decades; a guard nodded him inside hurriedly as he had begun to cross over the wooden bridge, a moat of murky water passing under. Once more he had passed another gate, lifted and its stone hall thick and cool with shade, his steps ringing off the cobbled stones, arrow slits upon either wall, three sets of murder holes, he had wondered when had last boiling oil passed through such to sear the enemy.

 

Sunlight found him upon the other side of the gates, the court yard where once peace lingered was now strewn with chaos. Horses and carriages were drawn up the lane to the wide steps that led to the large oaken doors. Servants rushed here and there at the beck of their lords and ladies and those of the castle's own seemed hurried and overwhelmed, suddenly he had wondered if he could avoid any servant or guard at all and head straight for Uriel's old chambers. He slowed his steps, no one had truly noticed him, his eyes searched the area until he had spotted servants filing in and out of a door, carrying in barrels and casks, no doubt for a feast to accommodate those who had visited. Slowly he made his way and awaited his chance, he watched one of the servants lift a cask and pull it inside, he followed suit, taking one himself, lest someone spot him at an odd moment, he quietly slipped inside. It was small hall that led to the kitchens, the sounds of the head cook rose amongst shuffle of pots and pans, crackling fire and sizzling meat, rich and full, being readied for the feast. He followed the line of servants, the door swung closed behind him, but they did not lead to the kitchens and he was glad for that for he did not wear the royal blue of Haven, inside he followed them to a spiral stair case, they had begun to file downstairs, one muttering about the back breaking work, he set down his cask, judging that is was filled with salted meat. He ghosted up the steps, hoping it would give way to somewhere he could safely take himself through deeper into the castle.

 

The steps were serpentine, curling ever upward and if it weren't for his haste he would not have had to stop for a rest. But finally it had come, some five stories upward he judged there was finally a door that he was greeted with. Carefully he nudged it open and peeked out into the hall, empty. It must be the servant's quarters, he decided as he nudged it further open and stepped out into the warmth of the hall. Sconces hugged the wall at intervals, the stone behind it darkened from where flames lapped during the night. He took one cautious step and found himself in front of opened shutters, he peered down onto the court yard, the chaos had begun to die, a door lurched open nearby. Two chattering women, arms full with clean linen in their arms as they gossiped and walked to the staircase and down, he had pressed himself into the corner of a wall, luckily they had not noticed him. Amyas knew he must leave the servant's wing with haste.

 

In his time of serving in Uriel's war band he had only known the castle in a small way, though he was sure that if he was as wanton of most of Uriel's soldiers he would have known the servant's wing well if he had bedded any. He smiled wryly at that thought; how young had he had been when love struck him? No, enough of those thoughts, there is a task at hand. He thought to himself as he ghosted down the hall, peeking carefully around each corner before continuing, luckily he had not been challenged, fate was upon his side this day, it seemed.

 

On and on he went, winding through the halls, a number of times he had nearly been spotted but luckily he had quickly spirited away into another hall, pressing to the shadows and wall until they had passed. He did not belong here, dismissed he was and home he should be, he didn't doubt that he would be considered suspiciously if he were to be found lurking about. But soon he was in the main body of Haven's castle, his feet carrying him upward through the stone stair ways and passages, ever closer to the King's chambers, to where he had last reported to Uriel as captain to his war band.

 

There he found it, the double doors to the King's chambers, shut and draped with a black veil for mourning, so…Norvelle had not taken his father's chambers yet? Possibly the smell of death lurched the boy's heart, for he doubted it was for simple mourning reasons that he had not claimed the spacious area. He went forth carefully, peering up and down the hall before standing before the veil, the only thing that kept him from the truth of things. He lifted the veil, the door was bared to him, his hands fell upon it, veil falling behind him, it felt as light as cobwebs. He pushed, the door was unlatched, of course…Sunlight bathed him as he stepped inside, pushing the doors shut behind him.

 

These were the chambers he had last saw his King alive, the man who had given him a chance in this life, given him stability. He made a step towards the bed, the white silken drapes drawn back to reveal the large feather bed, fresh white linen covered it. The smell of sickness and death no longer lingered as it had that day he had come to report, no doubt they had aired out the chambers. He had forgotten why he had been there…Why he had come to visit these spacious and rich chambers of his lost King. An old and tattered chair stood forlornly before the empty hearth, a portrait of an endless green sea, wavering tall grass whilst a sky of an array of strewn colors melded together had been placed above the hearth. Had his King sat there night after night, drinking tea whilst staring into that painting? Delving into a land where he had wished to be? He had always wondered how life would be to be King, to reign over a realm and to have folk simply wait upon you hand and foot. But he had deemed it a life style he would not willingly partake in. Of course it had its splendid points but there were too many things with it that did not bode well for him. His eyes traveled from the hearth to Uriel's dresser, a large ornate and gilt framed mirror stood upon it, fashioned magnificently. Small wooden and masterfully crafted boxes were spread out, jewelry and vials of scents and a crown, elaborate and ornately fashioned with leaping griffons, and a leviathan curling about it, before winding around the feet of two clawing beasts where a jewel of red blood settled, emeralds and sapphires decorating as glinting eyes across the rest. It still lay here, untouched by Norvelle. The crown, it was so lovely in all its glory, he nearly dared to touch but did not as he snatched his hand back to his side and looked over the once more, turning in a full circle. Just to think…This was where he last spoke to his King.

 

Suddenly he remembered why he had come and slipped his satchel from his back and upon the floor, undoing the catch he pulled out Uriel's journal and held it in his hand as he came back to his feet. There were three doors, one led to an antechamber and the other two led to a study and privy chamber. Hitching the satchel onto his shoulder he had found the study room and entered, softly closing the door behind him. There were shelves pressed against the wall and some standing away from it to create aisles, besides that, a chandelier hung from the ceiling and a small heart, untouched in many days. Where a desk lay there were two doors behind it, filled with ornate pane glasses that led out to the balcony that looked over the gardens. He set down his satchel once more and this time upon the desk were blank sheets of parchment stood and pots of ink, a quill and candle. His eyes fell upon the shelves and suddenly he knew there was more than enough work ahead of him.

 

It was easy enough to begin with. He simply needed to search for where the man kept his journals, though there were more than enough books, all he needed to truly do was to sort them out and luckily Uriel had done most of the work for him. One book shelf was full of leather bound books of history of the land which started with King Uriel and the accounts of the Crusader William Teimlia, there were a number of novels that spoke of the man but one thing to note was an original copy of Evelyn's writing of William Teimlia sitting amongst them, it looked old enough that he dared not risk to touch lest it turn to dust. The next shelf was filled with poetry, which he skipped across. There was another book shelf of literature and others of land charts and sea charts, he was near to giving up until he had passed by the poetry section and found an odd book amongst the crowd. Why did he not see it before? It stuffed between two thick volumes and unlike Uriel's other journal it was rather thin and puny, the leather of it was worn and shabby. He pulled it out and lifted the cover to peek at the first page. Uriel's journal, it was his first. He flipped through the pages curiously without truly reading just simply noting if Uriel had truly filled it and suddenly something had fell from it. He stepped back as it whispered through the air and touched the ground. It was a folded piece of parchment, sealed with wax and the sign of Haven. He stooped to pick it up and held it close. He tried to peek but couldn't quite do so, he would need fire but did not dare to light one here lest someone scent it upon the air or come in and note that there was a change, though he was sure they would note it if this book was gone…Then again, he had not noticed it himself as he had skipped the shelf. He slipped the folded parchment back into the book and into his satchel.

 

* * *

 

“I saw her…Just yesterday…She was asleep. I carried her to bed and tucked her in…She looked so peaceful in her sleep.” “And so she did when she left us. There is not much we can do lad, we will promise you a clean burial for your mother, she was well respected in her life time, loved amongst the people.” There were no more tears, even if he had tried to summon them, he was simply…Dry. She had gone so silently during the night…He had awakened to a new day simply to be taken down once more…Was life so horrid? He knew this time would eventually come, that his mother was aging and as of late she had seemed drowned in sorrow, as for what, he simply did not know.

 

Elyse had found his mother in bed, her face smoothed from lines of worries, making her seem younger than ever…She seemed elated and still, as if she had a pleasant dream before she had passed, as if she had found something she had searched for, for far too long. Elyse had called upon the priests to bless her body and take her to ready for her burial. They simply deemed it as natural causes and simply her time to pass, the god's will and no one can go against that.

 

He roamed the halls of his home…He remembered when he was just a lad and had been running through these very halls, his mother giving chasing, hitching her skirts as she ran after him and he laughed and she giggled as she chased him. How she kept him in her litter when they traveled through town and how she fed him grapes and scratched his belly…Told him great stories of a magnificent King and warriors and soldiers…Oh…He leaned against the window sill, hands upon it as he held himself up and caught his breath. “Amadeus?” It was Elyse; she set her old hand upon his shoulder “Is there anything I can do for you?” “Not at all Elyse, I apologize for my mood. I believe I will be going out for now.” He lifted his eyes to the woman, she still held loyalty to his mother even in death, he doubted she had family to return to…He was her family. “Feel free to rest and take your time for the day Elyse.” He forced a smile and pressed a kiss upon her cheek. “I will return soon to join you for tea” “I would enjoy that, Amadeus. Please take care.” She watched him leave.

 

The day was chill, as if the world around him knew what had happened to him, this loss that churned within him like an empty void. He pulled his cloak about him tightly and walked.

 

"Oh, Ama, such a horrid thing it is." She comforted him with a hand on his back, peering over the balcony with him. The tavern was busy once more and brandy gave him enough spirit to warm his body from the chill. "If there is anything you need, you know I will be here." "I know that, Elynor. You've always been so kind to me." She herself could only smile at those words when she heard the tender's voice raise in a cry for her to come down. "It looks like he needs me. Now, don't you go anywhere, Ama. I will be back in no time and we will have a talk." "Yes ma'am." She wrinkled her nose and disappeared back into The Sylph.

 

* * *

 

He tugged his cloak tightly about him, his heart settled, hiding away his satchel where it bounced against his back with every step. He had left the castle behind, somehow he had managed to sneak inward and steal from Uriel's personal study his journal. The item that would hold the answer and be the first step into advancing on this quest and ridding of Norvelle. After all, it was what his King had intended, no? There was only one way to find out and that would be returning to his room at the Inn and spending another night of endless reading.

 

So he walked whilst the chill wind tugged at his cloak and clothing, he lowered his head to the wind and hunched his shoulders, accepting the resistance.

 

Then that was when he saw it.

 

"Out of the way, out!" Someone roared in frustration as he was shouldering his way through the thick of the crowd and soon others followed him in the colours of the city guard. He halted and watched and soon found him following them as many others did to see what had happened. Then he found them, the townfolk had gathered in a half circle, surrounding some small pub, he pushed through to the edge of the crowd and then stilled at what he saw before him.

 

Johan.

 

He lay there before him, his shirt had been torn apart and his gut was slit across the naval, his intestines hanging over his belt, his trousers were stained in blood and his face was bloody, puss oozing from the gash that stretched across the crown of his head. The pub's owner stood upon the stair well, overlooking Johan with wide eyes and a look of terror. Johan lay there, spread out in a bloody mess whilst one of the city guard took to the stair well and had begun to earnestly question the keeper while the others swept the area and had begun to push back the crowd that had gathered while he himself fled the scene.

 

It was a warning, Johan had slipt up and showed his true purpose in this town and Norvelle had ended him for his insolence. He bent his head and hid his face by shutting his eyes and lifting the collar of his cloth to bury his face into, hunching his shoulders and tugging the cloak ever more tightly about himself. It was obvious that Norvelle was seeking complete obedience from the people of Haven and that anyone who thought to disobey his order and rule would suffer harsh repercussions.

 

He instantly latched his door shut when he entered his room and quickly went through and sifted through his things. None of it had been disturbed and for good measure he slipped one chair against the door as he stepped back and covered the windows. It was then that he had realized that he could not do this alone, that he would need help from others, somehow. He didn't believe it would be hard to win people to his cause, if Norvelle was willing to display his outrage in public by having Johan slaughtered than that must have meant there were many others openly rebelling the idea of Norvelle on the throne and that, of course, Norvelle wouldn't risk a massacre in his Kingdom, it would dirty the crown and in turn give them reason to rid of him. Thanks to Uriel's rule that free speech be allowed, Norvelle could not do much anyway though he must have thought atleast taking one ring leader out would send a warning throughout the others. Not to mention the fact that it was well placed. All the city guard had to do was agree that Johan was drunk and possibly had gotten into a fight with some cut throats or even another at the pub. The pub's keeper finding him was almost impecable and perfect, for if Johan was at the pub earlier in the night or that day, he could vouch for where the man was and with a bit of coaxing or encouraging could agree that he had drunk enough to make him somewhat wayward that night.

 

It was too perfect, too clearly seen. It was obvious that Norvelle's hand was in this...Or was it just some cruel fate that ended Johan? He poured himself a jot of brandy and downed it instantly, its warmth spread throughout his chest and gut. Eyes shut, hands upon the table as he undid his cloak and set down his satchel, undoing its ties. He had to do this simply for Johan if anyone, he had risked his life and because of it died in the name of the King underneath some false ruler.

 

He took the journal and went to the fire with bottle of brandy and small glass in hand as he settled onto the hearth stones and coaxed a fire to life to his liking. It was warm enough to chase the chill from the room and his bones as his hands were outstretched to it, legs crossed as he sat there. He stared into the fire quietly for a long moment, considering it as it danced along the logs idly, crackling and splitting it as the embers glowed.

 

It was a moment longer before he poured himself another jot of brandy and downed it, refilling the glass once more before taking up the book into his hands and lap, he sifted through the pages until he found the folded and sealed parchment, he took it up and eyed the seal, turning the folded parchment this way and that. It was old, to say the least, how long ago had his King signed this? Written it, even? How many knew of its truth? Certainly there was a witness, there was always a witness.

 

He looked down to the open book where he had taken the folded parchment from. If he read on he would be diving himself into dangers unknown, learning of his King's mind and of things only men dared to know of their Lord...This would give him the answer he sought become the first step to approach the fall of Norvelle. The first step that would possibly even mean his own death.

 

He had been reading for some time and suspected that he had dozed off for in the next instant he had startled to the harsh whispers that rose and drifted up the stairwell. The fire had died to a low glow of embers in the kindle.He slowly sat up, brow furrowing in concentration as he tried to make sense of the talking down below and instantly came up to his feet when her heard approaching foot falls that ascended the stair well. He stuffed away the journals and letter underneath his bedding just when a curt knock came at the door. He tried to calm himself and did manage to steady before replying. "Who is it?" "Open up." Was the only reply and he straightened himself before taking up the brandy bottle and glass and setting it on the shelf. He unlatched and opened the door to be greeted by the city guard.

 

He was glad that they asked him to leave his room and settle downstairs at a table for a short talk, this way he would be in public and as long as he stood calm and answered their questions he wouldn't have any reason to leave and leave the eyes of the patrons and risk well...Death, in any way. Not that he blamed the city guard but certainly someone had found him here and suggested that he might be a witness or...Suspect.

 

"What're you doing, Sir Amyas?" "I've come to collect the remaining of my things and receive the remaining of my wages." "Is that so?" Amyas nodded over his mug of ale. "We have reason to believe you have come at the beck of Johan." Amyas raised a brow, feigning ignorance. "Johan? Captain of the King's Guard?" "That is right." "I'm sorry, fellows. I know the man but I have not come here to treat with him." "You were Captain of the King's Warband." "That is so." "You have been dismissed before the King's passing, then why are you here?" "Are you not listening to me?" Amyas asked of him with a sigh and drank from his mug. The guard interrogating him here infront of all sat across from him whilst his partner stood near the door, most like to ensure that Amyas did not leave at a breaking run. But he wouldn't run, no, he had no reason...Though he did.

 

"You were spotted at the murder scene earlier in the day." He hoped he was not spotted, idly he wondered if he was...But even then. "I was and so many others were. It was a gruesome sight" The guard nodded in agreement to Amyas words. "Johan life ended earlier this day, Amyas, do you know anything of it?" "No." "We have reason to believe you were with him the day before then. Now, Amyas, please...Tell us the truth. Johan has...Had many enemies as of late ever since the change and the King's death. Without his old position and be treated wrongly...Well, he has openly went against Norvelle..." Amyas let out a sigh and looked away, so...The guard knew much of Johan, idly he wondered if he was friends with Johan in a way. Eyes falling back upon the guard. If he played this right it would settle things and not just that but send the attention that was on him, away, not just that but the guard seemed intent upon finding the truth. "I was. He had found out I was in town and sought me out, I didn't come to him. We drank and he complained of the King." Amyas looked about and leaned closer, hand on his mug. "Do you think...Do you think someone might have killed him because he was becoming...Too...loud?"

 

The guard looked from his left and to his right before leaning close to Amyas, eyes upon the man's own. "Do you know something, Amyas? Something you aren't telling me?" "No, but I have reason to believe that Johan knew something that he shouldn't have. Something he was silenced for." Amyas replied in a voice pitched low for the guard's ears only. The guard looked intent and then away as if unsure these words should be spoken. It was treason...Treason to speak these words aloud, it resulted in punishment and possibly even death at worse. He took in a deep breath and steadied, looking at Amyas who in turn leaned back. "I will be looking into Johan death, Amyas. And I hope you would not leave anytime soon...Otherwise you give me reason to suspect you. I hope you would continue to cooperate with me." The guard said while Amyas was silent and slowly nodded. "I will...Uh..." "Rhys." Amyas nodded "I'll be here, Rhys. You know where to find me."

 

Amyas was more than glad to watch the men leave him there, he looked down at his hands as they were clasped together. So...What now? He would be watched, he didn't doubt, if he left they would know...Was this his destiny? Was this supposed to happen? What of his family? Idly he finally thought that he should pen to them a letter, to tell his wife that he was fine and ask of the children and how they and she enjoyed Achorn Hill, to ask after Lihan and of Scarlett and their little ones. His eyes shut, falling into deep thought. After a moment, he stood from his chair and left, hoping a brisk walk would settle his thoughts and offer an answer to what he could do to extend his hand, knowing he would need the strength of many soon enough.

 

* * *

 

He stumbled and could not contain his laughter, if it weren't for Elynor supporting his weight with his arm draped across her shoulders he was sure that he would have fallen by now. He had his fill of liquor even though Elynor was always against him drinking so much but this night she had been busy and could not keep her eyes on him. She didn't have the heart to let him go alone home either as well for after learning of knews of a drunkard being murdered the other night, she just couldn't bring herself to do it. It was chill and dark except for the lit lanterns at intervals that illuminated the cobbled streets.

 

"...And thats when I told him, "En Garde!" And parried his blade and struck him twice in the chest!" Amadeus said, even demonstrating with his hand and ending up stumbling as he did a quick motion forwards, laughing as Elynor attempted to keep him up right. "Ama!" She rebuked him with a furrow of her brow and a glare. Amadeus looked away, instantly cowed. "I'm sorry, Elynor." "Its alright...We'll get you home soon enough, Ama." She murmured and hitched his arm more comfortably across her shoulders as she walked.

 

It seemed an eternity and despite the empty streets she felt an everending fall in the pit of her belly. Then it had happened.

 

"What do ya got there, lass? Oh...Look who it is, its that courtesan's boy." Someone spoke, a harsh whisper, voice pitched low. He stepped free of the shadows to join them when Elynor stopped underneath a lantern, Amadeus peered about until his eyes fell upon the stranger who had come to halt their way. Amadeus' once cheerful looked seemed a ghost in his empty gaze. "What do you want?" Elynor spoke up, glaring at the man in the most threatening look she could muster, she had not noticed until the man took another step closer to the ring of light that he had been fingering at a dagger in his hand, the firelight of the lantern caught it almost perfectly, glimmering off of its surface. Elynor took a step back with Amadeus in tow only to hear a voice from behind. "The lad, lass. You can go, just dump him where you are." She jumped and stepped forwards, turning so their backs were to the lantern's holding pole. She looked from one to the other.

 

"What do you want of me?" Amadeus called out to them, slipping his arm free of Elynor and standing tall...Or trying to do so, mustering the strength through the blinding amount of alcohol he had consumed. "We'll tell you once your lass is on her way." The first said. Amadeus looked down onto Elynor who seemed willing to stay and didn't listen to a word Amadeus uttered even after he told her he would be okay. She knew better.

 

"We don't have all night!" The second snarled, stepping closer just as the first did. Closing the cap from either side. "If you won't leave then you'll be enjoying us right after, lass." The first hissed and bared his blade, inching closer as Elynor was then pushed behind Amadeus. Though he stunk of liquor an almost regal air overtook him as he stood there. It wouldn't been a story of fairy tales if he weren't drunk and they in the midst of some rotten alley way surrounded by most like cut throats...But no, they knew him, somehow, and wanted something from him no doubt.

 

"You had your chance, boy." The first warned and lunged forth. Amadeus caught him by the wrist, pulling him with force and allowing the man to harmless skid by whilst the other came at him, receiving a crack across the head with the hilt of the dagger. Elynor cried out in dismay and before the dagger could be brought down with a bared blade on the slumping Amadeus, she caught the second by the wrist, fighting the man's strength while the other returned to grab her by the waist, pulling at her. "Get her off!" Snarled the second, trying to wring his wrist away and end Amadeus who was on hands and knees, dizzying. The second still managed to hit him by simply kicking his gut, sending Amadeus to sprawl back down with a groan, curling up and clenching at his side.

 

Finally the first was able to pull her free of the second, she was tossed against the stone wall, pinned with a hand wrapping about her mouth to muffle her cries as the man pressed to her and harshly whispered by hear ear. "You had your chance, lass." Tears had threatened her eyes, and she could not contain them from streaking her cheeks as she watched the other approach Amadeus with a smart kick across the head, sending Amadeus into rolling onto a side and curling further. The blade was lifting slowly, a harsh smile on the man's mouth and then it came falling down.

 

Elynor was unsure what to call what had happened next. A miracle, possibly, or just complete happenstance. She was near to sobbing wildly, watching Amadeus last moments alive when a man had joined the frenzy. She had seen brawls and bar fights before but never something so bloody as what had happened next. The man's peppering auburn hair shone to near copper underneath the dancing lantern light when he came into view and skewered the second man through the gut with a harsh thrust, the blade falling from his hands as he sought to clamp his hands down on his gut but it wasn't long till he had slipped free of the blade with an aided press of a foot by the unknown vigilante.

 

Kicked off his blade, his bared sword glinted a carmine red in the lantern light, the first man was already releasing to join the frenzy with his bared dagger. He raised it and brought it down smartly toward the vigilante in an downward stab which was parried away. Skillfully the vigilante spun his blade around, tucking his sword the other way she now he held the hilt forth and thrusted it deep into the gut of the cut throat with such force that it actually had lifted him and he fell to the ground winded and dropping his weapon, no doubt that the strike had landed on his kidney and he would be pissing blood for a week.

 

She was slumped against the wall sobbing, watching in pure terror before she managed to gather herself and crawl towards Amyas, clutching at him and pulling his bloody head into her lap as he murmured incoherently and reached out absentmindedly, groaning and whimpering in pain.She had begun to murmur soft words to him, hoping to keep his mind from the pain and hoping the liquor helped to dull it.

 

* * *

 

...And so he mounted the downed man, his fist cracking across the cut throat's jaw as he then grabbed his throat, pinning his head to the cobbled stone. The young lass who had been pinned to the wall had already gone to the ivory haired lad who now laid upon the cobbled stones in the illumination of the lantern light. The cut throat was gargling, whimpering and crying out as the stench of blood filled the air.

 

Amyas had saw what had happened, had heard what was exchanged. Amadeus...Amadeus, why did that name sound so familiar? But what seemed odder was that they were specifically seeking this lad out, that the lad and most like the lass would have ended up dead this night and found on the morn by some idle passerby like Johan...Johan, these could have been the killers. If it were not for him showing up at that moment...Destiny.

 

"Who sent you?" Amyas snarled threatening, the man gargled out a cry, clutching at Amyas wrist. "P-Please, let me go!" He begged and Amyas growled "Wrong answer!" With that he lifted the man's hand and slammed it back down against the stone, the man cried out in pain, eyes tightening. He didn't care for this cut throat's well being, he didn't care for Johan's! "Now answer me!" He snarled and dropped his sword aside without a care, settling down onto one knee, straddling the man's chest and cocking back a fist, holding the cut throat by the neck who in turn clutched at Amyas wrist and sucked in breath greedily. "Answer me."

 

"I don't know!" Amyas raised his fist further and the man flinched, crying out. "I swear! I don't know! He had no name, he left me notes, thats all! Notes, I swear! He said he'd give me coin if I did this!" He whimpered, practically praying for Amyas to set aside his fist. Paid...Or atleast promised coin to kill Amadeus. He looked back down to the man, his eyes full of tears, near to sobbing at seeing his friend die...He deserved it. He had a chance in his life to become an honest merchant or tradesman, instead he became what he was now. "And Johan?" "Johan?" The man asked, staring up wide eyed. "Johan, Captain of the King's Guard! His body was found littering just outside a pub!" "I know nothing of it!" "Liar!" Amyas roared and slammed his fist down once...Twice...Almost thrice but the lass he had saved had grabbed his arm. Amyas found tears threatening his eyes, the man below him had a bloody mess of a face, his nose no doubt broken as he gargled on blood. "He doesn't know..." She whispered to him. "He doesn't. Let him be." And Amyas released him, letting out a deep sigh, eyes shutting.

 

"It hurts" Amadeus complained as he settled down on his bed. Amyas had helped Elynor carry the lad back to his housing and had reluctantly released the cut throat when he thought he should have killed him but also knew it would give him information...Give him something, it was just right...Destiny. He had to trust it. They were in Amadeus' bedroom now he surmised as the lass who called herself Elynor had begun to fill an ewer and bring it close, gesturing Amyas to kindle a fire. Amadeus lay there still with more than enough incoherent mutterings.

 

Amyas settled a fire, kindling it to life to his satisfaction, holding out his hands to the warmth until Elynor called him close. "Hold him still." She told him and gestured him near Amadeus head, Amyas stood near and gently set his hands. "Who are you?" Amadeus murmured. "Amyas." He replied calmly. "Oh..." Amadeus fell silent. "I'm Ama...Amadeus." He added lastly, still somewhat high on his intoxication. "I know, lad. Now stay still for me, can you do that?" "I can." Amadeus murmured as soon Elynor came over with a fine thread and needle in hand. "Stay still." She said "I heard, I heard." Amadeus muttered and gestured with his hand as if he were swatting at her.

 

It had been some time later, if Amadeus had not drank so much liquor Amyas would have offered some brandy for spirits but as Elynor had said, he drank too much and it was true for the odor of it on his clothing was strong. Amadeus had fallen asleep soon after the stitches were in place and he rested upon his soft bedding comfortably. Elynor seemed wearied by things, settled upon her chair whilst holding a fresh wool blanket to her body, looking out over sleeping Amadeus.

 

Amyas looked over them both and felt quite awkward there...He cleared his throat. "I believe I go now..." Elynor looked to him and nodded slowly, starting to get up but Amyas gestured her to stay where she was. "I can walk myself out..." He paused "If there's anything you need, Elynor...Anything. If Amadeus or you feel threatened by anything..." "Then I will go to the city guard." She said and then looked to him, smiling tiredly. "I thank the gods that you had come when you had, Sir Amyas. I know you'd rather not dote on a lass and lad anyhow." She murmmured and her eyes fell back to Amadeus as Amyas clasped his cloak about his shoulders. "It is what I do, it is what I was born for." "Even so, we'll be okay I believe...I'll keep him indoors, not much he could do with whats on his head and all...Theres...Theres just so much now, y'know?" She said softly, curling her feet underneath herself, clutching the wool blanket to herself.

 

"So many have died and I...I fear that this is only the beginning. That things will not stop just here..." How many other deaths were there? Were there others that Norvelle excercised his power upon? "Lady Elandria is dead." She added lastly, as if she suddenly found it such a real thing. "The courtesan?" "Amadeus is her son." She added and Amyas was silent, so that was why Amadeus was so familiar. He had never bothered to remember these things...But Amadeus was somewhat well known, son of a courtesan, a bastard child. But it was the least of his matters, he did not need to worry over some lad, no, he had bigger things to worry of.

 

"Well, Elynor, I believe I will leave." She slowly nodded. "Sleep well, Sir Amyas. May the good god grant you strength."

 

He knelt there before the fire. He ached and felt more old than he had ever felt before. He set his sheathed blade before him, how many had he killed in the King's name? And how many more will be scored by this same blade? He settled back onto his haunches, hands on the front of his thighs, eyes shut as he let out a deep breath...How he longed...How he longed to be home.

 

"There is nothing left in your home, nothing at all." The voice filled his ears like a roar, filling the room as his eyes opened to look into the dancing flames that spread across the logs and kindling. Scent filled the room, a female's sultry voice, a man's husky tone, a coupling upon the dancing flames that chased the shadows and warmed his face. "Achorn Hill is now my home." He breathed out "Where is my family?" "Safe" The voice assured him, a touch stroking his peppering auburn hair, touching the nape of his neck, a chill down his spine.

 

How could he believe it? How...He had gone so far for this voice, this voice that had spoken to him and had told him to follow this road, to continue along with his destiny. His fate. "How could I know if you speak the truth to me, Voice?" "Voice," It chuckled "Then...I shall show you." His heart lifted at the words, filling him. "It is the least I could do for you, for all you have done for me thus far." And then it had happened.

 

His stoic demeanor left him...The fire swirled, if it could do so, he had never seen such a thing...Was it magick? Or just a work of his mind? Had things simply caught up to him in this old age or...Or was this true? Tears threatened his eyes, filling them as he stared into the flames that swirled twice and then thrice...He saw it.

 

There...There standing before an open shuttered window was Roselyn, moonlight upon her lovely skin, hugging herself where he would have once held her, warming her. She looked lovingly...Longingly before shutting her eyes and letting out a breath. She disappeared whilst the fire swirled and revealed another chamber that he had remembered from Achorn Hill. Lihan and Scarlett had treated them as if they were nobility, he was more than happy over that.

 

Then he saw his children. It was a lovely chamber, there were wooden figurines and toys settled all about the room along with two beds that seemed more than big for the children. Rosemary and Caroline were tucked in their beds, Artemis sitting upon the edge of the large bed, feet curled up underneath her, toes peeking out from the hem of her skirt as she murmured a story to them, Aubrey's own bed was near, but he seemed already deep into sleep, an arm draped across a doll he had purchased for the boy.

 

Oh, how he longed to hear the words that were uttered from Artemis' lips, the way Caroline looked up to her in admiration and then fear at the story she spoke. Caroline hid her face into her own pillow, eyes heavy as they shut. Oh...How he longed to touch his children, to feel their warmth...To hear them utter his name, to hold him...To watch them grow.

 

Oh, how he had failed them. He had always been away only spending time with them when he had been given leave and was soon called back time and time again. Tears filled his eyes, he shuddered with a shakey breath as he reached out, leaning closer, and upon the warm hearth stones as he leaned closer...The heat upon his face, his hand and then...He fell back and onto his haunches, hissing with his fingertips singed, his touch had disturbed the swirl as the fire had gone back to dancing, how long had he been watching? For the fire seemed weak and the glow of embers grew in the kindling as he pressed a fingertip into his mouth to settle the stinging burn of pain.

 

"Oh, Amyas. How you must miss all that you had." "When will I be able to see them?" "You had." The voice pointed out and Amyas shook his head. "No...No, I want to be with them. Please..." There was silence and then the air filled once more. "There is much more to do, Amyas, much more. And you have no choice but to do so. I have kept my end of this bargain...Would you?" Amyas let out a deep and shaky breath. He looked down onto his hands, palm up, palms callused and scarred. Had he any choice? For long he had been taken from his family and when he had finally leave to join them...To leave this life behind and settle, it had bene taken away from him as always things were.

 

"I will."

 

* * *

 

The birds flutter, mocking in their song filled chirps, the chirruping of insects and the waver of the canopy of trees. The branches reach longingly toward the sky, ever searching. The sway was their heavenly dance in their giant of a form, nearly blocking the light that dappled the forest floor.

 

The winding path a serpentine walk, moss growing north wood upon the thick dark bark of this forest, the call of the animals, the endless siren of a call.

 

The brush shook and in this twilight realm of endlessness only the wind could stir, no hare had rushed free of it with a predator at its tail, but a zephyr, gentle and yet strong, stirring this twilight realm.

 

His feet carry him ever closer and parting free of the giant trees that had once seemed an endless sea of reaching arms and greenery. His breath hitched and his feet planted, halting his advance, his eyes took in the sight before him. Magnificent it was in all its splendors. Spires reached as far as the giants had, towers filed across the sloping clearing, onion domes and magnificently white-washed stone was its face. No banner flew, and it would have seemed a dead place if it were not for the thrum of life that left it, a thrum of a musically regal air filling the sky, eminating from the endless palace that dominated this foreign land.

 

The stars overheard, unknown constellations nearly as bright as the sun itself, a white moon blessing this land in its heavenly light. He continued onward, approaching its tall protective white walls, the ramparts glittering in the star light. Wonderful it was, so beautiful did it stand there amongst nature itself. Then he halted once more in his tracks, double oaken doors, as tall as the trees itself and he didn't doubt that it was made of the giants that stood vigil, to say the least...It was intimidating to stand before the tall doors, head lolled back to see the tops. The palace dwarfed Haven's own.

 

"Come in," The voice reverberated off the walls, emanating from the white stone itself whilst he took a step back, fearing what it was. "We wait...Await you, at your welcome...Your banquet, Prince Amadeus." The words warmed him in this symphonic dream land, the doors had begun to part inward, revealing the blinding light within. His eyes widen, his ivory hair mussed and tousled by the strong wind that left it. The song was louder, filling his being as he took his first step closer, ever closer. The doors parted before him and there, with his eyes wide, his mouth open, hanging ajar with such a beatific smile gracing his face...Thousands upon thousands awaited him and there, standing at the end of it the man stood, promising all to him. All that he could lay his eyes upon could be his.

 

"Welcome."