Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ Forlorn Throne ❯ Travel ( Chapter 2 )

Dedicated to Roxana, my overseas friend.

 

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

 

 

 

Chapter II

Travel

 

…And so he led his men, sword in hand whilst his war horse, Snow, trampled the enemy underfoot. He roared his defiance against those who placed his land under siege. Threefold the number of the Hill defenders, our Lord did not falter. With the love of his family, a shield and purpose, he fended off the force of the Vale. Several days and nights of battle it was. Lady Teimlia had led the folk of the Hill to Achorn Hill's long old secret, Patience, the ship that William flew.

 

I begin to wonder at what will happen. Prophecy rules them, their love was inevitable and their communion just so. There were times I feared the death of both Lihan and Scarlett but yet they have prevailed time and time again. I believe they are beginning to wonder that I know much more than what I have told them, I was subtle in all my ways to lead them on their correct path yet I fear they will approach me on who I truly am. I fear it is inevitable that they will find out who I am and would finally understand how deeply their bond goes. I begin to wonder if their children will suffer a similar fate but I can only see so far, I feel as I'm going as dim as a faltering lantern, I fear my time is close.

 

Journal Excerpt of Scribe Garland, The Gray Priest

 

It was long time of travel since they had left the cottage behind and Amyas knew there was no hint of stopping until they reached Haven. In truth he did not mind it, but part of him longed to stay in the comforts of his own domain. He was left with watching the messenger ahead of him leading the way at a leisurely pace till the man had deemed it best for a gallop. There were no other words exchanged, silence. What Johan had ready for him, he knew it was something much larger than anything before. Amyas knew that there was more to this calling than just the King's death.

The sun was beginning to fall, slowly making it's descent to nestle lovingly into the far off horizon and allow its sister to rise to the skies. It was then when he glanced over his shoulder to the path they had left behind them, he wondered if he should have begged for more time to help with the packing, or even paid coin to the man to guard them on the way to Achorn Hill. He bit down, clenching his jaw in his slow mind at what he should have done and rebuked himself, it was already too late; there was no turning back from where they were. The messenger led them off the beaten path into the encroaching forest.

 

He wondered and worried uselessly, praying silently into the night to keep his family warm and protected and hoping that they had packed in haste and would have left shortly after them or even waited till the early morn and he wondered at how the Lord and Lady of the Hill would take them in. Would they be so surprised that he accepted such an offer? He didn't doubt that they would be warm to his family, that and his children would not have some wonderful playmates to grow around and have a future as a page to the nobility of the Hill. And not just that, Roselyn would now have a friend, he didn't doubt that Scarlett would befriend her…Not that Roselyn didn't have many friends in the market, but in truth, since he had been gone and about lately he had never known much of Roselyn's true personal life since he had last been with them. Yet she still loved him, he felt like one lucky fool, someone who truly didn't deserve her. Secretly he promised to make it up to her and his family when he returned from whatever lengthy task Johan had in store for him.

 

And so he thought as he did, eyes rising to the sky as the dying light of the sun was fading, the remaining remnants of its life dwindled between leaves to dapple the forest floor. Birds flew over head, and bugs flitted by his ear and flesh as she slapped them away absentmindedly. Still there was no sign of rest as they had broken free of the forest, the moon growing high in the sky and lighting the open field ahead of them, the messenger led Amyas in a wild gallop then and there across it, the moon lighting their way whilst they made haste. He had not known how long they had been riding, judging by the moon they had been for quilt some time, his stomach grumbled with the neglect of food and he searched one of the saddle packs to find some of the bread that Roselyn had baked and offered some a handful to the other, who accepted it gratefully when they had found cover under the trees, mounts put to a leisure canter to rest them.

 

He had begun to doze in his saddle when the sound of a nearby stream floated to his ears, when they had approached it the man had deemed it time to dismount and water their horses before continuing, which they did. The stallions were more than grateful to have their full of water and Amyas himself wiped his face and hands with the stuff to wake himself before continuing on the way. What had mostly made the travel somewhat irritating was the lack of conversation or rather, the silence between the two. Albeit there was nothing truly to share with the other man, he was sure that the messenger that now led him knew nothing about the true task, just that it was urgent.

 

Then it happened, the other turned his head, they were walking alongside the stream, leading their horses for quite some time, their steps had halted and Amyas had nearly bumped into the other. “This is where I leave you” The messenger mounted, leaving Amyas in a dazed confusion at what he was just told. “What?” Amyas asked and ask the messenger led his horse aside he gave the confused man his final words: “I'm sorry” And he was gone.

 

He didn't quite understand what had just happened, he had just been left here, in the middle of no where, after hours of travel and deprived of sleep, he was truly exhausted, part of him longed to run blindly into the brush and after the messenger and ask him of what had happened and yet he knew it was too late. He looked back at his weary horse who nudged at his shoulder, sharing his master's exhaustion. Amyas' eyes drifted to the moon high above them, he suddenly felt as if they had traveled days other than hours. Hunching his shoulders he knew there was no reason to dwell on things and continued onwards. The night seemed to grow colder, the whistle of the wind drifting through the trees was that of an unsettling calm and more than once he had thought he had heard the step of a man behind him or in the brush just beyond the length of his sight. What could he do? Nothing truly, sounds of the forest, he told himself, no use in dwelling upon it or worrying himself.

 

The hair upon the back of his neck rose, cold trickled down his spine and his jaw clenched, the brush of breath went down his neck, the sound of a woman's throaty chuckle melting beside his ear, quivering underneath that awkward sensation, he took a deep indrawn breath of the suddenly cold night, his breath a mist, eyes shut as his feet came to a halt.

 

The stallion nudged him.

 

He broke from his reverie suddenly, eyes going wide as he glanced around frantically, wishing to capture that foreign scent once more before glimpsing back over his shoulder to the wary horse. Tired, that was all, he was exhausted and tired, and rest would do him good. The stream seemed to have last a life time, trickling down the forest floor, the brush and trees seemed as if he had passed them once before. He suddenly wondered how long he had been walking, leading his weary horse; the moon was still high in the sky. Maybe he was dreaming, maybe just now he was resting in a ditch and this was all a nightmare. But it wasn't.

 

He suddenly ached to return home and nestle beside his wife, to feel her mouth upon his own and her touch on his flesh. He wondered if he would ever see the look upon her face after a night of pleasure, the look of his children whilst they ran and played amongst the field, the unity of that love. He seemed to age when those thoughts welled within him.

 

“You've traveled far enough”

 

He halted, he gritted his teeth and in that quick moment his hand had gone for his belt knife. “Calm down Amyas, there is no need for such hasty actions” He already had his knife out, his wary horse sidled away from him when his hand had released from the reins. His head turned this way and that but Amyas could not find the source of the voice. “Who are you?!” He growled out, his exhaustion was suddenly a thing of the past. With his bared knife in one hand he dropped into a low crouch, ready to fend off any attackers. “Come how and show yourself!” He demanded of the sudden silence and the responsive voice seemed to flutter from behind him, he spun to meet it. “Only if you put away that little knife of yours” A woman's voice it was, throaty and husky. He realized he was growling, the knife tight in his hand. “Then I will not show myself” Part of him could suddenly care less, he would not set down his knife. “But I do not need to show myself to explain why you have been taken here” His heart lurched in his chest, he suddenly wondered if Johan truly did command the messenger to retrieve him.

 

Her voice seemed to emanate from all around him, in the trees, the stream and even deep into the heart of the forest that surrounded him, constantly he moved and turned to catch a glimpse of who it was and mostly ready himself for any headlong clash. “Your King has died” She murmured, and it was near his ear, he turned quickly, slashing as he went. “Damn you!” He cursed out into the night, wherever his horse had gone, he was sure the stallion was in a safer place by now. “But it is not Johan who has called for you” She assured him, dismay rode on his shoulders now, he masked it. “Your family are on their way to the Hill” That little bit of news oddly sent him off balance, his heart lurched at the thought of his family being watched and then lifted at the knowledge of knowing they were traveling into safe arms. “But I tell you, listen to me and do as I say and I will assure your family will travel under safe wings” He growled, roaring his defiance “I'll kill you before you harm a hair on their heads!” “And I will not - As long as you listen to me” She assured him coolly.

 

He was breathing heavy, anger washed over him with the thought that the foreign voice may injure his family, and there was only one way to assure that they weren't harmed, to listen, but even then he was silent as ever and she took such silence as his assent. “Travel forth to Haven, Amyas. There fate will ensue, you will know what to do, the path will be clear. That is all I ask of you. If you fail to travel to Haven, if you return to seek your family, you will suffer greater consequences than you would have imagined. ” He listened, his anger still welled within him, unclenching and clenching the hilt of his belt knife, the voice had become odd, from once being that of a woman's to that of a man's, a minstrel's silky voice, that of clarity and dripping honey, that of many. “Go now Amyas, fly to Haven in your swiftest haste, for there your destiny lies! I shall be watching you” The earth seemed to shake, his flesh quivered and his body shuddered, his old bones ached, his eyes burned and welled with tears, his knuckles white whilst his head flew back, darkness.

 

His eyes fluttered open, the sun was a glare and heated his back, he groaned. He seemed to ache all over, and it seemed his body had near forgotten how to work his limbs for he had laid there for too long attempting to remember how he could clench his hand into a fist. He was lying upon his stomach, somehow he had fallen, he assumed he fell from the saddle after dozing off, or had tripped over a rock in the darkness whilst leading his horse. A nagging brush was against his shoulder but it took him a moment to find the strength to glance back over his shoulder to see his worried horse nagging at him, biting at his clothing to tug him awake. He raised one hand to brush away the persistent horse's muzzle.

 

He tasted blood at the back of his throat, and his nose stuffed with it, his head ached and rolled. He lifted his head to glance around him, he laid near the stream, in truth his head only mere inches from it, if he were any closer he would have dropped into it and drowned. He spotted his knife, teetering on the edge of falling into the flowing stream. He crawled closer and laid his hand over it, keeping it safe as he dragged it closer, it was then he caught a look at himself.

 

Haggard, somewhat, his auburn hair was matted to his head with blood from where, he believed, his head struck a stone, a thin line of dried and crusted blood trailed from his nose and down his mouth and chin, below his eye was just a slight scrape, his turquoise eyes seemed near dim from the lack of rest and pain that echoed throughout his body. He shut his eyes to groan and run a hand through his hair to find where that throbbing pain emanated from, and he did, it was soft and sore, and ached twofold whenever he pressed his fingertips to it. He pulled his legs underneath him, shifting onto his knees and leaning forth on all fours, he took a double take, glancing into the water and at his reflection, his throat was parched and water seemed the only thing that would aid him there and then. He cupped his hands and dropped them into the flowing stream and raised it to wash his face thoroughly and hair before drinking handfuls of it ravenously.

 

He looked at himself once more, at the reflection that floated upon the ever changing stream of water. He looked odd, as if he had slept for days rather than hours, he suddenly wondered if he truly did sleep for days here. His cheeks seemed to be thinner than he remembered, dark flesh was underneath his eyes, but he dismissed that to the lack of sleep he sustained at Achorn Hill and the days prior to that. Besides that, some of his auburn hair was peppering to an odd gray, as if he had aged, in truth he was old, and he did not deny that. The horse nagged at him again.

 

“O-Off!” He grunted at the beast and the horse, wary as ever, sidled away, snorting his dismay and relief of his master's action. He cursed several times as he tried to lurch to his feet. When did his body get so heavy? His bones felt old, aching and roaring their displeasure at his actions, he was too old for this, much too old.

 

He suddenly remembered the events of the night before; he was stock still in his place, eyes gone wide, and white all around. A nightmare, he told himself, trying to assure his mind that it was just a terror, that in truth he had fallen and his head landed a clean blow on a stray rock during the night. Goose prickles ran up his arms and spine, the hair on the back of his neck rose like hackles, if he was a wolf he would have snarled his defiance. That ever was changing voice, that once of seduction and than of deceit. The threat to his family seemed all too real and then the only thing in his mind, his sole goal to assure his family would be safe, was to travel onto Haven.

 

Silently he prayed to any god that would hear him and truly answer his prayers, that they would safely see his family to Achorn Hill and would take his life before allowing any harm to any of them. He slipped away his belt knife and caught his steed's reins before swinging himself up and onto the saddle. Without another thought he held the reins tightly before giving his mount his head, the horse snorted, pawing one hoof to the gravel floor. Amyas looked back over his shoulder once and then forth, well knowing his destination as he ran his hand down his mount's great neck and with that, kicked the horse into a burst of speed and life, galloping wildly into the light of day, his heart heavy with his woes.

 

His previous exhaustion was free of his shoulders, leaning across the neck of his mount as the beast galloped with life across the country side. The day was his; drawn like a moth to a flame he was, to Haven. Nothing would sate the worry that he held for his family until he could hold them within his protective embrace. He did not know where his mount and he himself had mustered such life and energy with themselves for such a travel, but the unity in the attempt and action of it was that of greatness.

 

They flew, or at least he could have sworn that they did, in their wake dust filled the air, the mane of his mount flowed like silk, he clung to the back of his beast in union to the gallop, whatever fear of dangers that would befall them from their treacherous speed was shaken free from his shoulders. Day and night they road, the beast between his thighs was weary of the ride and yet persisted to continue onward as much as he did. His stomach lurched and groaned for attention and he had ignored it, nothing would keep him from his destination and then there it was.

 

They had crowned the sloping hill, the stallion clambered up it in the way that truly showed its exhaustion, he clung to the beast fighting his eyes from sagging shut, his resolve burned within him as they crowned the hill. Just beyond them the torch lights were like the stars in the sky. Haven, it's castle stood tall, challenging many to test their might against it's stout billed walls and towers as high that many would have thought they could harm the sky. The walls about it were lit with torches and by those who walked it with a swinging lantern in hand. He simply sat there staring in awe at what Haven now was. Outside of its walls stood hamlets and small cottages, for those who could not afford the coin to live safely within the walls of the city, grain fields stretched as far as the eye could see and cattle pulled in from the pasture crowded together, lazily dozing in their safety of a herd. The city was a forest of buildings and structures, it shamed many others of the beauty of it all, just beyond it the sea was as black as the night, the moon shimmered over it in its pale milk way. He was close, ever so close, just a little further and he would be greeted at the gate and allowed in by the midnight guard, they knew him here. They would accept him. This was as home as any other home he had ever known.

 

…And yet…

 

…He dreaded it.

 

And soon the Haven was beginning to loom over him, dwarfing him as he approached it, nudging his mount to cautiously move down hill, allowing the horse to pick its pace for he was too far in thought of what would happen - of what he must do. He was told to go to Haven and his family will be fine and would be delivered safely to Achorn Hill. He suddenly wondered at what he had agreed to, at what he was getting himself into. At what destiny had intended for him. But it was all too late to turn back, as the darkness of Haven swallowed him and destiny claimed him.