"The Dragon Child - Chapter 1-" by Christy Miller

Prologue

The Black Serpent raiders were once people of this very land, the kingdom of Athelstan. Once they were a strong people, farmers, merchants, blacksmiths, musicians and bards working honestly beside poor and rich alike. As time passed, they left the land, sailing out into the sea, hoping to build a nation of their own, without the rule of a king or a queen. They organized their own system of ruling, consisting of a council of twelve men, each of them governing, leading and aiding the people however they could. Once every three full moons the twelve men would gather and determine the best course of action for the people at the time. All would vote and the majority would decide.

            But it was a system built upon uncertainties, trial and error. Many lives had been lost due to the inexperience of ruling in the strange and barren isles they hoped to populate. However, they had learned from their blunders and became strong; dangerously strong. As their strength grew, also developed an un-natural need to raid and plunder the shores of their old homeland, for they assumed that King Tallone would attempt to take the free land they struggled to build. They constantly assaulted the shores of Athelstan, keeping the soldiers preoccupied by the endless onslaught so that Athelstan was unable to launch a counterstrike.

 SEQ CHAPTER \h \r 1Chapter One

Dreams of the Past

             She monitored the waves of the sea, the thing that gave the land life, but also the one thing that brought devastation to the shores. The blustery weather was strong and guided the black clouds over the ships as swiftly as the wind could carry them. The heavens suddenly became dark as a burst of unsettled seagulls flooded the sky and shadowed it with their black-tipped wings. Their calls would have echoed, but the ocean waves swallowed the shrill cries.

            Surrounding the Keep -just as sprinkled as the disorganized seagulls- lay the homes of the townsfolk. Some pitiful ones were constructed of driftwood and old ships -turned belly up- while others had been carved from the very cliff they sat upon. A road that was well worn led past the homes, winding just as a snake slithering its way through tall grasses that would normally bar its path. It wove though the city to a large cove that provided a clear landing for the ships of these sailors and fishermen.

            The bay was prominent and packed with the glorious vessels of the townsfolk. The white sails were folded neatly and tied into place on the masts, to ensure their preservation through the winter.

             As the wind gusted from the sea, the ships and small fishermen’s boats bobbed in the water as if they too were a part of the shimmering blue. The autumn season drove the sailors back to the harbor where they would spend time at home during the winter. Much of the merchandise had been brought to the city and would provide comfortable living for the people during the colder seasons.

            She loved the people and the land she had been given to govern. She smiled as she watched the townsfolk erect stands and booths in the marketplace where they would be selling goods and bartering for the items they needed or desired.

            Calmly, she scrutinized the morning scene unfolding before her eyes. As familiar as it seemed, she never tired of watching it. She stood on the edge of the cliffs and turned to watch the water as it slammed its waves against the cliffs, causing the ground to rumble beneath her feet. She let the salty air blow against her face, brightening her already red cheeks and tangling her long, silver hair. She pulled her deep blue cloak around her for warmth, for the winter months were setting in. She was a beautiful woman, old in years and yet possessed red lips that shone as a freshly picked apple. Her eyes were as stormy as the sea, with a hint of the rising sun in them.

            But against all this charm, something about her neck dwarfed her beauty. She carried a jewel attached to a silver chain. It was a beautiful stone, beyond description, tiny and yet so vibrant that anyone would have their attention drawn to its magnificence.

             A tired look crossed her face and she closed her eyes, as if she had been watching the shore all night. But as soon as she opened them, the tired look vanished. She squinted as she focused her eyes further out to sea.

            Unmistakably, there shone a white sail, yet painted boldly and black on it was the crest of the Black Serpent raiders. It was the terrifying sight of two Black Serpents, intertwining themselves, looking as if they had either fought or were in the process of an elaborate mating dance. 

            She stumbled back, turning to the large Keep that stood over the city and ran. The stone steps leading to the doors caught her foot and she tripped, but she didn’t show any sign of pain. She gathered herself up and ran again.

            “Black Serpents!” she shouted as the burst through the heavy wooden door. Her voice echoed through the spacious chamber as that of angels singing, the message not so sweet a sound.

            The warriors, who had been sitting and eating their meager lunch, jumped to attention and saluted their queen. “Remain here Your Majesty,” a large man said, gathering his sword and helmet. A loud horn began to blow in the distance.

            The woman ran for one of the windows and peered out toward her city. She watched as the merchant stands began to come down as swiftly as they had been erected only moments ago.

            “This city will fall this time My Queen,” a voice said to her. It was a fearsome voice, as if more than one person were speaking at the same time. She looked down at the jewel that hung about her neck. Her expression became confused as the crystal lit up an eerie blue.

            “What is this light?” she whispered.

            “You have heard of the sacrifice to me, have you not?” the voices questioned her in return.

            She looked out over the water. The ship had anchored and smaller vessels, filled with Black Serpent raiders, began to come ashore like a plague. Her Soldiers had been swift and arrows already targeted the enemy. “Yes?” she answered, but there was still a question in her voice.

            “It is time,” it said.

            “What?” she demanded. “My people need me. King Tallone is dead and my son has gone in search of a bride worthy of him. I have no female heir to give you to,” she announced, knowing full well what the Stone was asking of her. It wanted her life now.

            “I am nearly ready. Your strength is all I need to be re-born. I can save your people.”     

            With this knowledge she removed the beautiful stone from her neck and tossed it to the ground. It hit the polished and painted ground, clanking as is bounced and skidded to the center of an elaborate painting. “You do not know if I am all you need. You cannot do this!” she yelled. “My people need me. How could you choose a critical time such as this to take what you think you deserve?”

            “I was born for this cause, as were you,” the Stone answered.

            “Stop, I will not be the sacrifice now or ever!” she cried out in anger. Another horn blew in the distance, and she turned back to the window. There was a terrible cry of death that not only stung her ears, but her body as well. It was as if she could feel the pain of each victim being slaughtered. A slash assaulted her arm and burned, though as she glanced down at her own body, there was no sign of the injury.

            “I am full. I need you now,” the Stone demanded.

            She clutched her chest and cried out in pain. “What are you doing to me?” she screamed. Her lungs were burning, as if they were on fire.

            “The sacrifice is being offered,” and with those words from the Stone, the woman fled the Keep. She heard a second cry of passing and felt it in her heart. She stumbled on the large stairs, but kept running. She darted through the city and held her chest, readying her body for the pain of the decease of others. Three other deaths were felt in her heart and the force of them pounded into her as the sea had done to the cliffs so many times before.

The trees would provide shelter, and she darted for the woods, but as soon as she entered the green haven, she fell to the ground, moaning, and suffered two additional deaths of her people.

            I awoke from my sleep, feeling as though I had just trained throughout the night in the battle arena. My whole body ached, and cold sweat poured down my back and beaded on my forehead. I sat up and looked around the soldier’s barracks I slept in. The soldiers –men and women alike- remained sound asleep. A single candle burned in the corner of the dark, stuffy room, convincing me that everything was secure. The Black Serpent raiders hadn’t attacked our shore of Daram for nearly two moons now, but the dream seemed so real and the woman’s face had been as clear as if I had been one of her soldiers. I lay back down and looked at the bunk above me where the soldier Fernan slept. He snored loudly.

            I attempted to sleep, but it had fled me as fast as the queen in my dream had fled the Keep. I climbed from the bed, carefully made my way to the door and opened it. I could hear the quiet rushing of the ocean as the waves washed up on shore. In the tallest tower of the Keep was a light, indicating that a guard remained vigilant on night-watch duty. It would only be a matter of time before the Black Serpents attacked again. Athelstan, though the largest of the four kingdoms of Kelperah, was nearest to the marauding pirates homeland and therefore assumed most of the responsibility for protecting the shores. It had been a great relief when the winter air assaulted the sea; for the Serpent ships were suddenly unable to strike… though the possibility of an attack was still great.

The light from the tower windows looked unnatural against the night sky, but it was a beacon of reassurance to Daram. The cool wind of autumn crept into my skin and I shivered, but instead of returning to my bed, I went to the kitchens where Mayama, the cook, would surely be baking the morning bread for the inhabitants of the Daram Keep.

            As I entered the dark kitchen, I could see the fire burning in one of the ovens, but no one was there. The tables that lined the walls had been cleared and only the stains of spilled food as well as wine and scars of knife marks, evidence that these tables were well used. The benches had been tucked neatly beneath them and I pulled one out and sat, waiting for Mayama. If the fire was burning, she would surely return soon.

            The kitchen consisted of a large room constructed with three enormous ovens. Fires were frequent and a constant threat to the surrounding buildings even though the building was made from limestone cut from nearby cliffs. Therefore, it was built away from the Keep with a little herbal garden separating the two structures. This main room and two of the ovens had been rebuilt four times since I could remember. Hauling the large stones from the cliffs was a tiresome job, but even more so was lifting them into place. Others would have the task of mixing mud and straw to form the plaster that would keep the stones together, filling any large gaps in the wall. Once the building was finished, it would be greatly enjoyed in the summer. It was cool. But in the winter months a fire would need to be built and constantly fed to warm the large room just enough so that one was comfortable.

            I remembered gathering the finer stones cut from the cliff to build the fireplace in the wall. It was barely lit now and a few smoldering embers threatened to die. It was cold enough, so I took the liberty of placing an extra log on the embers. I prodded at it with the fire-rod, and soon the flames eagerly licked at the wood.

            “Who’s here?” someone asked. I knew it would be Mayama.

            I turned to look at the plump old lady standing behind me, wiping her hands on her apron. “Good morning, Mayama,” I greeted her.

            “Kea, is that you?” she asked. I knew that the light was dim in the room, but I could still make out her features. Her round figure, and her silver curled hair that she tucked beneath a white cap, as well as the little black slits she had for eyes. There was flour on her wrists and the front of her blouse.

            “Yes, it is,” I smiled.

            “‘Tis not yet morning. You should be resting till the rooster crows. Why are you awake?” she asked and sat beside me.

            I sighed. Telling her that I could not sleep because of a dream sounded childish to me, but it nagged at me. The Keep that had been under siege looked vaguely familiar and the queen had the same features as the kings and queens of the past, the dark skin and hair, as well as the sea blue eyes that looked as if there was a storm brewing within. This dream must mean something, but what?

            “You are very pensive, Kea. Can I help in any way?” Mayama offered. She leaned forward, making eye contact with me. Her eyes reminded me of black pearls that sparkled against the flickering of the fire.

            “I had a dream,” I said. I wasn’t sure how to begin, or if I should even tell her of something that I couldn’t understand.

            “Oh!” she exclaimed, excitedly. “Tell me of it, will you? Come by the oven here,” she stood and pulled me toward her large baking oven, the fire crackling. “Stand there and tell me of the dream. I do love them so,” she began pouring milk and flour into a bowl. Several candles lined the table and some even stood next to the oven. They flickered with the wind our bodies created. Mayama was losing her sight in her old years, and even in the light of the candles she seemed to squint so she could see the spices on the shelves. She reached for one.

            “I did not know you fancied dreams,” I stated.

            “Oh, it’s sort of a hobby of mine. I record my dreams. Someday I hope to find what every dream means. Now do tell. I’m listening.” She studied the herb sack intently then tossed some of the contents into the flour mixture and began kneading the dough.

            So I told her, with every detail I could manage to remember, as well as feeling some sort of pain and that the Stone conversed. With each detail of my dream, Mayama lost more concentration in what she was doing, but stopped her morning project completely when I described the jewel.

            “Mayama?” I asked when I was finished. The old woman looked to be in a trance.

            “Kea, do you know what you have seen?” she asked me.

            I shook my head.

            “You have seen the past. This is forgotten history of the Athelstan Kingdom. You have seen the destruction of the Fold Keep. I will not say that I know this for certain, but if what you told me is correct, then the queen you saw was Queen Damita, the last female heir to the throne,” she slowly resumed her baking project.

            “But why is it that we have forgotten this history; The Dead Forest and the Dead City? The Black Serpent raiders still attack our shores, and if there was any way of preventing it, we should have learned by this,” I stated. “We could have at least learned how to deter them from destroying a whole Keep.”

            “Ah! That is the problem, my young soldier. I don’t believe that the Black Serpents made the place such a wasteland. There is something much stronger in power and strength dwelling there. Though, no one’s survived to tell the tale,” she said, lifting one of her flour-caked fingers. “You’ve witnessed something that has never been told.”

            I looked at her confused, “How would you know this then?” I demanded.

            “My dear Keatep, I might be the cook here in the Daram Keep, but there is another life that I live that you know naught of. ‘Tis true, I was not there when the Fold Keep was destroyed, but I might have had the same vision as you,” she smiled and winked, her black eyes twinkling in the firelight.

            “What do you mean?” I asked.

            She leaned over, pulling the dough into shapes and cutting them to the sizes of soft buns. “Maybe if you think and try to learn more of this dream, you will come to find out who I am.”

            I sighed again. I wasn’t going to learn anything more from Mayama. She rarely directly answered any question that was given to her, and I was lucky to have received as much information as I had.

            “Hand me the tray there, will you? If you are awake, you might as well help me till the sun comes up.” She pointed to one side of the kitchen where all her trays were stacked.

            I spent the early morning working with Mayama, and the subject changed from my dream to the different spices that could make the largest difference in a good meal. For my help, I earned a fresh slice of bread that melted the butter Mayama put on it. It smelled heavenly. Time passed quickly and the sun soon strained to peek over the horizon. The rooster crowed, and I knew it was time for me to go.

            “Oh, here is the Watersprite dust you asked for. It was strenuous getting it. She wasn’t too happy to have emptied her lair for you,” Mayama smiled, handing me a pouch that hung heavily on its string.

            “Let her know that I will repay her when I can.” I nodded and placed the pouch on my belt. I smiled and left the kitchens to join my troops.

             The soldiers began their morning drills and then continued sparring till the sun reached the first tower of the Keep. We were then permitted to receive our morning meal, which consisted mostly of hard bread, smoked meat, and an apple.

            I had already eaten for the day before anyone had even crawled from their beds, so as the rest of the Keep ate, I took the opportunity to go to the baths which were housed in lime covered buildings that retained heat. Compared to the other Keeps I had been to, this bath was considerably smaller. There were only two tubs, one with lukewarm water for rinsing the mud and grime from the body, while the other was constantly heated and used for soaking. Usually the men and women of the Keep would have to schedule times around which they would be able to use the baths, but this morning they were empty and the steam was thick.

            I washed and then soaked in the hot tub for a while before drying myself and changing into fresh clothing. The tunic was a size too large for my skinny body, but it was required of all the Soldiers to wear the same ice blue color with the silver crest of the Daram Sea Lion. Each province in Athelstan bore its own crest and color. Meldron, the capital of Athelstan bore the crest of the golden Firebird on a deep crimson tunic. Someday I hoped to see it.

            I stepped out of the baths, letting the unusually warm sun rest on my cheeks. Returning to my barracks to place my clothing in a chest by my bunk, I spotted a stranger in the courtyard. I knew everyone well in the Keep, and this man was not from this area. He must have sensed my stare and turned to look at me and approached. I studied his stride and knew from the steady way his feet fell to the ground that he was a warrior of sorts, but I could not find the crest of an Athelstanien province upon his clothing. He was built tall and lean, with hair cut unevenly about his face, the longer strands bound back in a warrior’s tail. The deep brown color of his hair only brought ones attention to his eyes, each a different color from the other. His right was a deep blue and the other, fervent green; an ill omen. Beneath the green eye he bore a scar that stretched from the top of his cheekbone almost reaching the bottom of his chin. It must have been a horrid wound, for the scarring was vivid.

I did have to admit to myself that he was a handsome man, young and full of life, with a body that was built for war, but he was not from this region nor was he a commoner. His clothes were worn thin from traveling, and his tunic ill fit his long, muscular arms, but there were patterns of nobility and riches upon them.

            “Good morning, Soldier,” he greeted me. His voice was steady and secure. 

            I stood firm and nodded.

            He seemed to study me for a few moments before speaking again. “May I trouble you to know if Master Eamon is in this area? I am an old friend of his and would like to pay him a call.”

            I was shocked to hear of Eamon, my guardian, called by the name of Master. The last time I had heard him addressed as such was during the great battle along the northern coast of Athelstan nearly five years ago. Eamon had left the Daram Keep with an army of three thousand men, leaving me here at the age of eight. I knew him as a Master then, but a year later, when he returned, something in him had changed. He refused to do his duties and drank as if he would perish without the vile liquor.

            “Soldier?” the stranger asked, tearing me from my memories.

            I shook my head, “May I ask as to who is calling on my Master?” I responded.

            “I can only give him my name, but I doubt he will remember it. I am Ikane. That is all he needs to know,” he stated.

            “He is still sleeping, but I would be more than willing to announce your arrival,” I said. For some reason I felt that this stranger would play an important role in my life. I only hoped I was wrong. His green eye made the hair on the back of my neck stand upright which was incredibly uncomfortable against my freshly washed skin.

            “There is no need. Thank you. It was a pleasure speaking with you,” he smiled and gave me a curt bow. I watched him leave, walking toward the Keep where the legend, Master Eamon, would still be sleeping or waking with a splitting headache. How did this stranger, Ikane, know Master Eamon? He seemed to be about the same age as myself.

            I turned to the barracks and placed my clothing in the chest by my bunk. I knew I had wasted enough time speaking to the stranger and would need to hurry to join the Soldiers in our afternoon drill. I tossed my long, wet, brown hair back, braided it and tied it with a leather strip to keep it from falling into my face while exercising.

            I reached the training area just as the rest of the Soldiers stood at attention as Commander Holdan walked past for inspection. I hurried to the weapons hut, where all the training gear was stored, retrieved the last long sword and stood at the end of the line, waiting. Commander Holdan stopped when he reached me.

            “Late?” he asked, while stroking his brown beard thoughtfully, looking past me.

            “Yes sir!” I answered, honestly.

            He nodded, and I waited for him to give me a task for my tardiness, but he did not. Instead he turned to the rest of the troop. “Soldiers!” he demanded. “Today you will train with the person next to you. I will not match strength or size, skill or weapon!” I glanced at the Soldier next to me, known as Tup. He wasn’t a particularly large man, but he held an axe, which indicated strength needed to wield it.

            None of us had trained with an opponent wielding a different weapon before. Commander Holdan was kind enough to match us with someone of equal size, strength, and skill, but today he did not.

            Commander Holdan continued. “You will each draw a circle on the ground, large enough that you can both stand an arm’s length away from each other. You will each try to force the other out of the circle. You will continue this drill, until I say you may stop. Understood!” he demanded.

            “Aye sir!” the troop shouted in unison. Holdan smiled with pleasure. He was truly proud of the army he had trained. We were obedient and eager to please him, for he would treat us well when we presented well.

            “Go!” he bellowed.

            The troop moved forward, gathering in scattered pairs across the training ground. I looked at my partner, who shrugged his shoulders at me. “You strong?” he asked.

            I shrugged in return. “Not terribly, but I am fast,” I answered with a sly smile.

            He grinned, showing a broken tooth. Then he nodded as I drew the circle in the dirt with the tip of my sword. It was a little uneven, but that wouldn’t matter in the end. Soldier Tup stepped inside and took his stance, widening his feet and bending his knees. His axe he held securely with both hands before him.

            I stood at the ready as well, my sword in both hands before me. I steadied my breathing, hoping that I would be swift enough not to be pushed out of the circle. Eamon had trained me in the use of the sword when I was barely old enough to lift the weapon, and I was skilled with a knife as well. The sword was heavy, yet more efficient in reaching the opponent without putting one’s life in danger. Thus far the knife was easier for me to wield.

I remembered the stranger and his uncanny likeness in stance and pose to Eamon’s. He had called him by the title of Master, the rank in the battlefront that was highly desired by any Soldier.

            I forced myself to concentrate on the spar ahead of me. I was not familiar with an axe, and if I was not paying attention now, I might not ever have the chance to fight again. I shook my head, clearing it of any cobwebs that might have lingered about the stranger and Eamon. Once I was sure it was clear I looked at Tup, and he nodded. We charged and our weapons connected with a thunderous clap. I was shocked to feel the strength in Tup’s blow, and my arms shuddered as the rest of my body was nearly flung back. I stumbled toward the edge of the circle, my foot landing on the rough drawing. I quickly sprang forward, leaving the edge of the circle behind me.

            “That was almost too easy,” Tup whined.

            “Well then, this will be more training for me,” I bragged. I just needed to learn how to stumble a large man with an axe. It wasn’t impossible, but with the strength my little frame possessed, it would be a challenge.

            I stood ready and waited for him to strike, which he did. I made as to connect his weapon with my own, but before his blade could reach mine, I sidestepped, and the force he put into his blow pulled him forward, the axe hitting the dirt. He stumbled, and as his rear end was facing me, I pushed the rest of him forward with my boot. He stumbled even further, and then landed on his side in the dirt, outside of the circle. He looked at me in dismay.

            I smiled and shrugged.

            “Good move. I thought you would’ve tried throwing me off balance. Turns out I was right,” he stated as he stood and dusted off his knees and buttocks. He knew my tactic now and would remain wary of it.

            We continued to spar in this manner. Tup used his strength to force me back when I wasn’t swift enough to dodge, and I used my speed when I could. He was able to force me from the circle four times by pounding his axe into my sword. Three times I was knocked into the ground, the forth was more of a graceful stumble, ending with a sprawl.

            I was able to trick him out of the circle twice before Commander Holdan announced that training was finished for the day. My arms burned, and my strength was all but gone. I did not know that trying to stay in a circle could be so tiring. I placed my sword back in the weapons hut and made my way to the kitchens where I cornered the water barrel. I drained three cups of water before feeling refreshed.

            I leaned against the cool wall and watched as other Soldiers gathered about the tables, looking as exhausted as I felt. The warm room slowly filled with chattering and gossip. I listened for a few moments before my attention was drawn to two serving maids in the corner. They spoke quietly, but their words still reached my ears.

            “Have you heard that the raids on the shores have suddenly stopped? I overheard Lady Caitelyn speaking to her seamstress about it. She was suggesting that a plague has come upon them and they are all perishing from it. The serpent god must be angry with them. It’s strange. I hope it will stay this way,” she said as she dished a large spoonful of porridge into a plain serviceable bowl. She then reached for a fresh slice of bread.

            “Aye, I’ve heard. There has been talk about it in the city. Apparently the caravans coming from Shard were uneventful in their journey here. Usually there is a Black Serpent ship waiting to corner them before they reach Daram,” the other maid said. 

            Something thumped loudly to my left and several of the soldiers began laughing. One of the men had fallen from his perch on the edge of a bench. I remembered the days when Eamon would be one of those happy men, gossiping and roughhousing with his troops.

The thought of the young man returned, and I determined to speak to Eamon about the stranger as soon as possible.

            I pushed myself from the wall, looking at where the two maids had been. They were gone. I left the loud kitchens and made for the inner-Keep. Here was where a large building had been constructed to house the nobility and commanders of this little defense off the coast of Athelstan. I listened to the waves and the calls of seagulls as I walked toward the building. It was one of the few times I had been able to see the beauty of the sea standing mightily behind the Daram Keep, which tried to mimic its greatness.

            As I entered the inner-Keep walls, my nose was greeted by the smell of fresh oranges and mint. It was sweet and made my stomach rumble. Someone must have brewed some tea and the aroma filled the courtyard.

               I made an unfamiliar route to Eamon’s room, winding through hallways and foyers adorned with tapestries of the royal family and candles smelling of cinnamon and lavender. The smells of completely different magnitudes made my head spin and I felt somewhat lightheaded. Several intricately embellished doors lined the twisting hallways and I couldn’t quite remember which of the elaborate doors belonged to Eamon. Each of my new turns brought me to different sections in the building and strangely enough I saw no other human being. I decided that they must have retreated from the conflicting candle fragrances.

             I longed to find someone to ask for directions to the old Master’s lair, but I was only greeted by more assaulting smells of candles -these new ones smelling of peaches- and more tapestries, becoming plainer in pattern. Then, as I wound up the coiling stairs of the tower to a new level of confusion, I met the stranger.

            “Good day to you, Soldier,” he greeted me, smiling affectionately.

            “Good day to you, Sir,” I responded with a short nod and stood aside, allowing him to pass, as was custom for Soldiers.

            “I was able to find Eamon,” he said, but there was disappointment in his voice and a small shadow covered his tanned face.

            “He is no longer the Master you were searching for, is he?” I questioned.

            He shook his head. “I thank you for letting me know he was here. Perhaps we will meet again,” he said.

            “Perhaps,” I nodded.

            “Well then, good day,” he continued on down the stairs. It was then that I recognized the way this man walked. It was Eamon’s youthful stride, filled with confidence and control.

            I resumed my search for Eamon, scolding myself for not asking the stranger for directions, but I soon reached a familiar door. I knocked, and as I waited for the old Master to answer I studied the door’s adornments. It was decorated with tangled carvings of flowers, ribbons, and birds. It seemed too feminine for Eamon, but this was the chamber I remember going too when I needed his help… which hadn’t been for quite some time.

            I could hear some shuffling and then the soft patter of bare feet as they approached the door. It cracked open and Eamon peered out. His brown hair was tangled and his breath smelled of wine and meat from last night’s dinner, which still remained on his uncombed beard. His brown eyes were droopy and bloodshot.

            “Kea! What a surprise,” he announced and opened the door wider for me to enter. The room was bare, except for a few wine bottles that stood in corners and on a table, as well as an unmade bed which had several wine stains on the sheets. It smelled of sweat, beer, and mead which assaulted my nose more than the conflicting candle fragrances of the hallways. Eamon closed the door and motioned for me to sit by the table as he cleared some of the bottles it held.

            “What brings you here?” he asked. “You do not come to visit me often.” He set the bottles down in a corner, and then returned to the table where he retrieved a full bottle of the red liquid and sat.

            “I was wondering what had happened to the old Eamon I once knew?” I said.

            He frowned.   

            I continued. “Did a young man come to see you?”

            He nodded and pulled the mouth of the bottle toward his lips.

            “Who is he?” I asked.

            “I don’t remember,” he said and took several large gulps of his beverage.

            “I see. But he seems to remember you as Master Eamon. I would like to know how you came to be acquainted with this stranger,” I said, almost demanding. I did not like the way Eamon drank as he spoke with me. He knew I detested it.

            “It must have been a rumor he heard somewhere,” he said. “I do not remember him.”

            I sighed and looked at the single window in his room, which was only halfway shuttered against the coming chill of the autumn months. It was the only means of fresh air in his stuffy chamber. A bird fluttered to the windowsill and sang a short sweet melody, before flapping its wings and diving toward the ocean that stretched out below.

            I walked toward the door. “I’m sorry you don’t remember him. He looked hurt when you did not recognize him,” I hoped somehow that my words would jar him from his presumable loss of memory, but I only heard the sloshing of his bottle as he set it back down on the table.

            The hallways were slightly darker than they had been before, but I found my way to the courtyard, after asking for directions several times. I wandered to the kitchens where I found Mayama boiling water and slicing potatoes to make the evening broth.

            “You look stressed,” the little old lady commented as she poked her head around the large pot before her. Before I could reply, she swung it over the fire with her favorite hook and wiped her hands on her apron. “What’s the matter?”

            “Oh, I just visited Eamon,” I mumbled and sank down on one of the benches. Mayama wasted no time in joining me.

            “Still drinking?” she asked, but I knew she was wise enough to know the answer. I nodded anyway.

            “Strong drink has a way of grasping a soul,” she said.

            I nodded again. “But when he refuses to welcome a man that once knew him as “Master”, I can’t seem to understand why he would do such a thing? Why would he not welcome someone who respected him and admired him? Someone who took after his strength and stature? Someone who thought of him as a father?”

            “Maybe he does not want to be remembered as such,” Mayama smiled. “Eamon chose his path, young lady. You must choose yours. You cannot make everything right for others. As hard as you might try, the man who sets his mind to something can only be changed by himself.”

            I took a deep breath, and then let it out harshly, as if I was trying to release all my negative feelings toward my guardian. “You are right, as always.”

            “Now go,” Mayama stood swiftly. “I have much to do before supper, or would you like to help me?” she winked.

            “No thank you,” I smiled and stood as well. The little lady went back to her cooking; humming a fleeting melody, then began whistling.

            I turned for the door but something caught my attention. Posted on the wall to the right side of it, was a message from Lord Adair and Lady Caitelyn. It hadn’t been there this morning. The seal was constructed from the deep red wax of a candle, but the ribbon that was attached to it was pale blue, making the colors clash. It was the color of Daram and obviously there was no choice in the matter of the colors. The handwriting was exquisite and detailed, filled with swirling ink, constructing little blossoms and leaves that ornamented the letters.

To our fellow citizens of the Daram Keep and province.

            We have cause to celebrate! The Coronation of Prince Sander Noirfonika is to be held in three months time. We will be hosting a great ball on the fourth eve of this month in festivity of this event, as well as the annual Harvest-Festival.

            Soldiers of Daram will assist with the caravan regulations and the security of the guests that will be arriving shortly. 

            There was a long list of all the other households of the Keep and how they would contribute in the preparations, as well as for the maids and servants.

            Prince Sander was finally taking the throne. All who dwelled in Athelstan looked forward to naming this young prince as our king. For years he had commanded the greatest army and was becoming a legend among Soldiers as a man with unspeakable swordsmanship, everything Eamon had once been. It was a blessing to all of us, for with the rumors of the Black Serpents halting their raids, fear had crept across the land. It was the never-ending torture of watching, preparing and wondering if they would launch an attack so great none of us would be able to withstand them. A king who was mighty in battle would bring hope, and I felt that hope radiate.

            The next few weeks went swiftly. I was occupied by the morning drills and then riding with thirty other Soldiers to Daram City, which lay on the coast of the Emturke Sea. The docks were a frequent stop. Most of the salesmen would be bringing merchandise to other cities by boat. They constantly weighed their options, and now that the raids had stopped from the sea, traveling by land was the more dangerous option. The bandits had taken this time of peace from the Black Serpents and turned their attention toward raiding the unsuspecting travelers.

            Fifteen Soldiers were assigned to monitor the docks, to keep the merchants from flooding into the city. More often, there would be two merchants selling the same sort of items and goods, therefore the other was turned away or sent through the city where they would be escorted to the nearest village. It wasn’t something a merchant would consider the best option for selling items, for the villages, where the farmers dwelt, and there was rarely any gold to be gained. The farmers bartered with vegetables, fruits, and nuts and even sometimes a horse, cow or a pig.

            The first day we reached Daram City, I was overcome with the swelling of people. The streets were crowded with shoppers and merchants, as well as farmers who brought their harvested goods to the town square where they hoped to sell what they worked so hard to grow through the summer. We were forced to dismount and lead our horses on foot through the bunched streets. The business reminded me of a beehive with constant buzzing, as bees would climb over each other to get to the other end of the nest.

            I stopped mid-stride as a little girl ran past me, chasing a kitten that had leapt from her arms only seconds before. A man, walking across the street, hauling a large barrel upon his shoulder, grunted as he rebounded off the rump of my stopped horse. At first he glowered at me, but upon seeing my uniform quickly retreated and went his way. I sometimes wondered what the Soldiers in Daram had done to deserve such fear of the people, or was it respect?

            We finally reached the gates where we relieved the guards who had already been on duty for the last six hours. I stopped and saluted the Soldier I was to replace. He gratefully saluted in return, then handed me the list of caravans that had already been admitted, then turned and retrieved his horse.

            “We’ve had a lot of silk merchants today. Be wary of that,” he warned me.

            “Thank you, Sir,” I nodded and turned to my duty along with the five Soldiers who had stayed behind with me. The others continued on to the surrounding gates of the city where they would relieve the guards on duty. I was glad that this was one of the smaller gates.

            Just then a merchant with a large wagon approached. It was more silk.