Child of the Kindred, page 18
part #2 of The Rienfield Chronicles Series
Aiden had since then walked over, kneeling down and smiled at Marina, lightly touching her face. She smiled back, her eyes looking tired and sad.
“Why do you not change into a warm nightgown mo stor? I will not be going anywhere the rest of the day or evening. Then you can just be comfortable, and I will have a light supper brought up for all of us,” Caleb suggested, as he drew a bent finger across Laurel’s cheek.
“I shall change in a bit. First, I was hoping that we could go and sit for a few minutes, under the arbour on the back terrace,” Laurel mentioned softly, as she took Caleb’s hand in both of hers.
“If you wish mo ghra, but it will not be quiet and peaceful, as it is normally. Just on the other side of the wall, the kitchen staff are still busily feeding quite a large group,” Caleb explained, smiling at her warmly.
“That is no matter, my Prince. The sound of people enjoying a meal is a very heartening and satisfying sound, compared to what was heard these last few days,” Laurel replied standing up, placing her arms around Caleb’s waist and leaning her head into his chest.
Caleb wrapped her in his embrace, looking over at Aiden who smiled back, as he laid down next to Marina and began playing with her hair.
“You two go and get a bit of air. I will stay here and keep Marina company,” Aiden remarked with a charming smile, as Marina giggled at his comment and expression, while he continued to run his fingers through her hair.
“Very well, let us go downstairs for a bit then,” Caleb said, as he smiled and shook his head, leading Laurel out of the room as she laughed lightly at Aiden.
They slowly walked down the stairs and out to the back terrace that was just opposite the smaller private dining room. Sitting under the arbour, covered in thick gnarled grapevines, Laurel leant onto Caleb’s shoulder, sighing deeply as she began to relax. As Caleb had mentioned, the noise of many voices could be heard, drifting over the ivy-covered walls. Occasionally laughter could be heard over the wall. The sound of the voices, suggesting all were comfortable and calm. Laurel smiled at this, her eyes glistening with tears. Caleb placed his arm around her shoulders, drawing her closer, as he felt her body tremble against him.
“Will we ever recover from this Caleb? Will it ever be the same?” Laurel asked in a trembling voice.
“Yes, mo chailin milis, you, the children, and Gwenlais will recover. But no, it will never be the same. It cannot be, not after all that has occurred. Things will have to change, in order for Gwenlais to grow again, and to survive. And it shall be my love. We shall help to bring Gwenlais back, all of us together. We are no longer two kingdoms, two peoples. These past several days, I witnessed things I have never seen. Sentinels and the Clann Armies, fighting side by side with Gwenlais Guards, all for the common goal of freeing our Princess and reclaiming Gwenlais. The Lodge filled with both Sentinels and Guards, laughing, talking, eating together, as if old friends, enjoying a reunion. We are no longer allies mo stor, but brothers, who will fight together for the survival of all our people. Do you not see what you have inspired, my darling? You have healed the torn Kingdoms, you have made us one, once again. Just as in the days before the great battle, that took the life of Caleb the First. Were you not told, where his wife came from, and why so many of our people are connected?” Caleb asked Laurel with a patient smile.
“No Caleb. I only know that my father’s, great grandfather, was the one who began the alliance negotiations, after a period of time when the two kingdoms were not friendly towards each other. This was done then, as a mutual benefit, as our Kingdom was always under attack by marauders. So tell me, where did Caleb the First’s wife come from?” Laurel asked, now fascinated by Caleb’s questions.
“She came from a place that was once known as na cnoic glas, or the green hills, now known as Gwenlais. The Kingdoms joined after they married, but upon Caleb the First’s death, much feuding took place amongst the Chieftains and Nobles. A new king was named both in Heathwin and Gwenlais, and they were then separated, or torn apart. They have not come together as one, for over one hundred seasons. Not since then, have they been joined. That is why my darling, before we return home, they wish to make you Queen, and I will let them. For very soon, we shall rule them together, and the breach will finally be healed,” Caleb said, holding Laurel in his arms, and kissing her face several times. “There is nothing to be afraid of my love. This is what you were meant to do. I shall be by your side the whole time. For whatever the people wish to call you, be it the Queen Ollam, or The Queen of Gwenlais, you will always be, my sweet girl. That is how I shall always look at you,” Caleb said in a loving, warm voice, feeling her tremble with emotion. “Remember, you are only Queen when it is necessary, not every waking moment. That is what Maimeo used to tell my mother, whenever she would become overwhelmed. Mother said it always helped her to put things in perspective,” Caleb said laughing lightly.
“Dear Maimeo, such a wise soul,” Laurel answered, smiling now, feeling calmer.
They both looked over, hearing more laughter, rising up into the cool evening sky.
“Come with me my darling, let us go back upstairs so you may change, and I will have dinner arranged. The children will be awake soon, and we shall have a very long, hard day ahead of us tomorrow,” Caleb said as they both stood up, and walked back into the castle.
“What are we to do concerning the children, Caleb? Please, tell me we will be bringing them with us. I could not bear to leave them behind,” Laurel stated with concern.
“Of course mo stor, do not worry. I will have it all arranged. I had no intentions of leaving them. Come now, no more worries tonight, it will all be worked out very soon,” Caleb replied, putting his arm around her as they walked towards the staircase.
“Have all funeral arrangements been finalised? I have no doubt the Scribes and Nobles were quite anxious to know what has been decided upon,” Laurel asked with a heavy sigh, as they walked up the stairs.
“Everything has all been arranged mo stor. The funeral will take place in the Ollam meadow just as you wished, I have already informed the Nobles and Scribes of this. I did not, however, tell them of your decision to bury Ellos beside your father. It is none of their concern, they will find out tomorrow along with everyone else,” Caleb answered in a reassuring voice. “There is nothing more to concern yourself with, as I told them all exactly how things would be, regardless of whatever traditions they felt were necessary,” Caleb stated with a hint of irritation in his voice.
“Well, I do hope you were not too cross, Sire,” Laurel said, smiling at him coyly.
“Not at all darling, you know me,” Caleb remarked, with a sly grin.
“Yes, I do my Prince, which is why I was concerned,” Laurel replied with a light laugh.
The two cloaked and hooded figures, walked closely behind the towering robed form of Gruffudd as he led them into the Master’s main chamber. They walked fluidly and gracefully, without fear or trepidation, something that Gruffudd both hated and respected about them. They approached the brilliantly ornate and overly large throne, with the back shaped to appear as a half sun, encased with sparkling jewels and precious stones. Seated upon it, was a tall, foreboding looking figure, wearing robes as richly detailed as the throne on which he sat upon. His cold black eyes, soulless, and filled with bitterness and anger. He was completely covered in his finery, with only the hairless skin of his head, and long hands exposed. Beside him stood an old woman, regal and coldly beautiful, wearing a flowing tunic dress of scarlet, her long white hair in a braid over her shoulder. Four tall, heavily armed guards, stood flanking the throne on either side.
“Master, the Slayers, have returned,” Gruffudd spoke in a quiet voice, as he bowed his head and made a sweeping motion with his arm, as he stepped to the side.
The two hooded figures remained silent and unmoving behind him. The tall, menacing figure looked at the two of them threateningly for a moment before speaking.
“Tell me, Timgad. Tell me why you failed,” the Master hissed, in a harsh half whisper.
Taking a half-step forward, one of the figures spoke up, “The barbarians were more alert to a threat than was anticipated. I watched from the forest’s edge as they led my brother away. I returned to the camp just outside of the city and waited the appointed time. He never returned,” the hooded figure stated in a calm and silky voice.
“I will not accept excuses! I expect results, not explanations! You dare to stand before me and give me these ludicrous reasons for your ridiculous failures?” the Master shouted out in rage, his guttural toned voice, echoing off the towering ceiling.
The two cloaked figures, let out sharp hissing growls as they stepped forward menacingly, throwing back their hoods, their gold eyes filled with rage and indignation. Two of the tall, grey-skinned guards on either side of the Master, stepped forward, brandishing their long, curved swords.
The second of the two spoke up, saying “do not begin to speak to us in that way, Ishachar! Remember this, the Naphtalie people are not slaves of the Ishachars! Much like the barbarians of the West, the Ishachars were not able to conquer us. If you wish us to remain your allies, then you will not treat us with this kind of loathsome disrespect. You led us to believe the barbarians were of feeble mind, ruthless, but stupid, and easily overwhelmed. They are none of these things. They have proved to be most cunning, especially their leader,” Bashan stated, with angry defiance, causing the Master to shirk back slightly, in surprise.
“Explain to me, what you speak of,” the Master said in a calmer voice.
“I was there in the marsh,” Timgad replied, “waiting for the slaves to be delivered by the smuggler Clust. My band waited in the dense forest, then came out upon the group when they arrived. I then watched their leader lower his hood, signalling to begin the attack. More of his men came out behind our group. Our brothers were slaughtered in but a few moments. If I had not stayed long enough to kill the smuggler, he would have told their leader everything. They control and use the great Scimitars, as a weapon. It is both terrifying and magnificent to see.”
“They truly are an enemy worthy of our respect, for they are fearless and brutal in battle. Keep that in mind Ishachar. You are more than aware, of the Naphtalie’s admiration and respect for power and might. The Ollam that you seek is both loved and revered by them. She has become the leader’s mate, and will not be easily taken, as if prey,” the second Naphtalie Bashan explained, his voice calmer and more subdued.
“My friends, there is no need for anger. It is most evident we were all caught unaware of the barbarians’ skills and cunning. Timgad, you look weary. Here, why do you not replenish yourself? It has obviously been far too long since you last took your medicine to strengthen you,” the old woman said in a soothing voice, stepping forward and offering Timgad a small, alabaster vial.
Timgad’s eyes widened slightly, hesitating to reach out and take the vial that was offered. Bashan looked at him, his eyes showing just a hint of sadness, concern and anger, at seeing Timgad’s hands tremble, then take the vial from the old woman, in what appeared to be longing and desperation. Timgad removed the small stopper, then gulped down the contents of the vial, sighing deeply, and breathing heavily for a moment. His bright gold eyes suddenly becoming less intense.
“And what of you Bashan? Are you too, in need of replenishment?” the old woman asked with a soft voice, holding out a vial to him as well.
“I have no need for your medicine, any longer Ollam” Bashan replied, with unhidden disdain.
“Very well, Bashan, but know that I am always at your service,” the old woman answered with a slight smile, returning to her place.
“I see now, that a new approach will need to be taken. Gruffudd, ready your men and begin preparing to set sail by morning,” the Master demanded in a low hiss.
“Yes…yes, Master. What exactly do you wish me to do?” Gruffudd asked in astonished bewilderment.
“You will sail to Achzib. Establish yourself there with our contacts, and check on the condition of the mine, as well as acquiring new slaves. Send out the Seekers in greater numbers, bring a group of Rabkin warriors with you as well. I am still not done with trying to achieve my first objective,” the Master explained with growing impatience and fury. “I will finalise my new strategy and have further instruction before you leave. All of you, remember this, I will not tolerate any more failures,” he growled out loudly.
“You must realise Master, if the young Ollam remains alive much longer, her influence over the barbarians will continue to grow and strengthen. It will make it much more difficult to drive the Kingdoms apart,” the Ollam cautioned, looking over at him, she stepped back slightly, watching his growing rage.
“I am aware of what that outcome will be Mistress Lasair, which is why you will be joining Gruffudd, on his voyage. I am sending you back to your homeland, Mistress Ollam, as your skills will prove most useful. Do not look so surprised. I thought you would be happy to return,” the Master replied with a cold evil grin, his tongue flicking out quickly, between sharp teeth.
“Yes of course. If you will excuse me, I shall go and prepare for my journey. You must understand Master, I will need to bring several of my attendants with me,” Mistress Lasair replied, her voice expertly masking her rage and fear at returning to the very place that banished her so many seasons ago.
“Of course, Mistress Ollam. You have whatever you require at your disposal. I am most grateful, for your many seasons of loyal service,” the Master replied, as he grinned evilly once more.
Mistress Lasair smiled back at him, bowing her head, then turned to leave the room, vowing to herself she would somehow make the Ishachar pay for this betrayal.
4: TO BEGIN ANEW
Laurel stood alone on the balcony, wrapped in one of her mother’s favourite shawls, watching the sky grow lighter with the dawn. She breathed in deeply, smelling the coolness of the air. Just a hint of rain could she detect, as the day promised to be as grey and sombre as the mood of all in Gwenlais. Laurel understood completely, the reasons for having King Garron and Lady Ellos’ funeral, in such a hurried manner. Yet, she was still saddened that it would not come close in scope to Queen Milna’s funeral. Looking down onto the courtyard, she could see that it was busy with activity, as staff were starting to arrive. Without turning, Laurel felt Caleb’s presence envelop her. He walked up in back of Laurel, pulling her tight against him as his arms wrapped around her waist.
“Come back to bed mo stor, it is too early,” Caleb murmured into Laurel’s ear, as he softly kissed the side of her face.
Laurel turned her face to him, smiling drowsily. It had not been a restful evening, as the traumatised children slept fitfully, crying and distressed most of the night. Caleb and Aiden did their best to comfort them, reading stories, telling tales of their adventures and experiences from their childhood. The effort to get any of them to eat, Laurel and Marina included, was unsuccessful. Nibbling on a few sweet biscuits and drinking tea, was all they were able to consume. They had all played a few rounds of Pass the Boar before Oriel and Jamison began to cry again, relating that their mother had played it with them before she left the room, to calm them. The children ended up sleeping in the bed with Caleb and Laurel, Jamison stating he was afraid the “bad men” would return. Marina though exhausted, kept insisting that she and the children would sleep in her room the following night, feeling bad that Caleb and Laurel had them all in their room. When Caleb and Aiden had finally convinced her that this was actually something that was done in Heathwin, Marina at last succumbed to her exhaustion, sleeping deeply for a few hours. Aiden held her in his arms, whispering to her comfortingly, whenever she would shudder or whimper in her sleep.
“Everyone is still asleep at this time. Come mo ghra, let us get some rest before we must begin the day,” Caleb whispered, as he led Laurel back into the room.
Climbing back into bed carefully so as not to wake the children, Caleb took Laurel into his arms, stroking her hair.
“It all still does not seem real, my Prince,” Laurel whispered, her lips brushing against Caleb’s chest as she spoke and he embraced her closer.
“I know my darling. After the ceremony, there will be nothing else for you to attend to. Only family and close friends will be in attendance here. An outdoor kitchen will be organised this morning to feed the displaced. Logan’s father will be having families arriving at the shelters on his property this morning as well. Things will start to feel a bit less hectic for everyone by the day’s end,” Caleb replied, whispering back and continuing to gently stroke her hair and back.
“How many…how many Guards and citizens perished Caleb? No one has told me,” Laurel inquired looked into Caleb’s eyes, with unbidden tears.
“That is not important at this time mo stor. Try and get some sleep dearest,” Caleb replied in a low voice, placing his hand on the side of her face.
“Caleb…please. I must know. Please tell me, so that my mind may accept what has happened. Should not a Queen be aware of the conditions of her subjects?” Laurel asked, her voice determined, as tears slid down her cheeks.
Caleb smiled at her lovingly as he leant in, kissing her forehead. He calmly told her of the estimation he had been given, his heart pained as he watched her close her eyes, as more tears fell from them.
“One of the Nobles has generously donated a small plot of land to bury the casualties of the siege as well as the fallen Guards. The work will begin at first light. Your dear Wendell has volunteered to conduct a funeral service for the citizens tomorrow afternoon. It is all being taken care of my love, there is nothing more you need to contend with today, except for your father and Ellos’ services,” Caleb explained, as Laurel clutched tightly onto his tunic, pressing her face against his chest.
