Chapter 2
A Half-Giant and She-Elf
Lady Olivia, her eyes closed, gasped as the caravan stopped. Her
breath quivered as she drew it in. She peered out the wagon window and dared to
look around, for they had reached their destination. The grind of weathered
gears filled her ears as the only fortress’s gate closed behind them. A high,
stone wall surrounded the keep, and lookout towers were stationed along the
perimeter. Archers and men-at-arms kept a watchful eye of the newcomers, fires
flickering beside each lookout post. The guards stared down at the visitors,
hands on the hilts of their swords, until they realized the strangers were
harmless. Their shoulders relaxed as they returned to their muttered
conversations.
A castle stood before Olivia, its weathered stone face etched by
time, its dark windows watching the commotion below. Flags tossed this way and
that from the castle’s towers, the dampened crimson fabric contrasting with the
gray sky and the rain-pelted brown land.
The smell of grease and smoke drifted from one side of the castle
as cooks prepared the day’s meal. The lowing of cows, squawks of chickens, and
neighs of horses could be heard from across the yard. Stewards rushed to and
fro directing the daily progress. Two young boys shoveled the mud-caked
courtyard to find dry ground for Tulaun’s future queen. The castle was Crown
Haven, the halfway point where Olivia and Prince Theron were to meet at last.
A throat cleared close to Olivia and she glanced up with a start.
She stiffened at the sight of Aunt Primis, and her eyes darted to the ground.
Countess Primis stared at her niece and abruptly flicked a stray lock of hair
behind Olivia’s ear. “You are to be queen!” she hissed. Olivia cringed at the
touch of her cold fingers. “Therefore, carry yourself as such.”
“Yes, my lady.” Olivia’s voice was small and hushed.
Countess Primis’s eyes narrowed. “Is that how a queen speaks? So
timid and small!”
“No, my lady.”
Primis heaved a sigh and shook her head. “Do not disgrace
my family!” Olivia’s hands clenched together. “Do not encourage your uncle and
me to dread the day we took you in. Never forget our hospitality!” Olivia did
not answer as she felt Countess Primis’s glare burn a hole completely through
her. “Get out.” Primis stepped back as a servant opened the wagon’s door. Her
glass heart beat against her chest and she thought of crying, but it would only
make matters worse.
Olivia stepped out of the wagon onto a stool to keep her from the
grimy ground. Cedany took hold of the end of her kirtle and held it above the
mud. The servants, squires, and men-at-arms attended to the horses and luggage
with grunted commands and practiced efficiency. Countess Primis and Earl Quinn
followed Olivia as Krea supported Olivia’s arm, Nan trailing last of all. They
walked from their wagons to a wide stairway leading to the battered oaken doors
of the castle’s main entrance.
Lady Olivia glanced over her shoulder at her aunt and uncle. Why
let her lead? They had never given her the higher privilege before. They stared
at her and Olivia turned away, though she knew they were critiquing her with
unmerciful precision. When will they ever leave? Soon. When I am proclaimed
as queen. She tried to lift her chin and find hope in her aunt and uncle’s
departure.
Along the castle’s steps, on either side, stood the stewards, the
chamberlain, and a host of workers. Each was dressed in their best shoes and
stockings; their cloaks had been washed the day before, and the hay had been
picked from the earth-toned fabrics. The estate’s Seer stood to the right of
Crown Haven’s lord. His small frame was dressed in a crimson robe that dragged
the ground and his bare feet were icy and blue in the chilled wind. Beside him
was his Song Bearer. Though the young apprentice was not dressed in red, he was
also bare-footed. Crown Haven’s duke stood at the head of all, and a Lunaris
was to the left of him, the she-elf smiling as Lady Olivia approached.
The duke was an enormous man, and he stepped forward to help
Olivia up the stairs. “Greetings. Crown Haven welcomes Tulaun’s forthcoming
queen.” He was an aged man, his coal black skin wrinkled and his hair speckled
with gray. His oversized hands and feet revealed his blood was not pure: he was
half man, half giant. Olivia eyed his intricately detailed tunic and furred
sleeves and collar. She had not expected a half-blooded duke to be as wealthy
as he, yet she remembered the half-blood had tutored the prince, and wealth
always follows royalty.
The duke stooped low to take hold of Olivia’s hand, his black
fingers contrasting against her ivory skin. She saw his eyes were pale blue and
looked as though they were made of ice. “I am Duke Aldret, and it is an utmost
pleasure to open my dwelling to you and yours, and to see you again.” He bent
down and kissed her hand. Olivia wanted to pull away, for she could smell him;
fruit wine with an underlying smell of quail’s flesh.
She forced herself to smile. “May The Wizard forever grace your
halls, my lord.”
He released her hand and stood to his full height, high, high
above her. Olivia swallowed hard and looked away. Duke Aldret turned to lead
them inside, but stopped as his icy eyes fell on Nan.
“What is this? A Wilder!”
Olivia stiffened at his sharp voice. Nan’s jaw clenched as hateful
looks from all assembled were cast upon her. A guard on the closest lookout
tower notched an arrow onto his bowstring.
“No,” Olivia whispered with a shake of her head. “She was born and
raised close to Deep Wilds, yet is not one of them. I swear by the One in Red.”
Duke Aldret turned to Quinn and motioned at Nan. “Her darkened
skin and brown eyes say otherwise.”
“She is not a Wilder,” Earl Quinn said as he stepped forward, his
jaw set and eyes ablaze. “I kill such barbarians. I favor the mace over the
sword. Their weak skulls crack easily against it.”
Duke Aldret grunted with a nod. “Worthy answer.”
Olivia let out a breath as he turned away. Nan’s nostrils flared,
and she gave Earl Quinn a hot look. She held her tongue and lifted her chin as
the hostile looks withdrew, one by one.
The half-giant motioned to the Lunaris beside him, and she stepped
forward. Her skin, slightly hued with powder blue, was unusually tan for a
Lunaris, and her long hair blew in the breeze like black waves. Her eyes were
purple and the ears peeking out from her hair were turned up at the tips. Her
several ear piercings and free hair set her apart from the women of Tulaun. Her
tall, slender form bowed low and with grace.
“Mistress Sobriina les Desoreel of O’Taro Province is the name I
was blessed with,” the she-elf said. “I will be your faithful servant and
beside you, as a shadow.” She stood to her full height and smiled down at
Olivia.
“I am grateful.” Olivia nodded respectfully. She noticed
Sobriina’s fine belt, and the silver broach embedded in the leather. She was a
royal friend, no doubt, and a pure Suvarian elf too. Her company would be
interesting.
Sobriina’s smile broadened. “A hot bath has been drawn and sits in
waiting for its lady.” A smile finally blossomed on Olivia’s rosy lips.
Duke Aldret moved back to let Olivia pass. “Mistress Sobriina
shall inform you, my lady, when repast is prepared.”
“Thank you, my lord.” Olivia bowed and ascended the stairs, her
ladies-in-waiting and bodyguard beside her. As she passed the castle workers,
each bowed until her shadow had gone by. Olivia watched them out of the corner
of her emerald eyes and frowned. She had been bowed to before, but not like
this, not like one with royal blood in their veins.
“Earl Quinn,” the half-blood duke said. Olivia turned a listening
ear as Duke Aldret and her uncle nodded to one another in a wordless greeting.
Earl Quinn straightened once Aldret lifted his head, and motioned
to the stiff woman beside him. “You remember my wife, Countess Primis.”
“My lord.”
“Countess Primis.” Aldret took her hand and kissed it as she
bowed. The half-blood smiled politely, yet unemotional, and turned back to
Quinn. “The legality of the marriage will be deliberated upon the prince’s
arrival.”
“When?”
Aldret shrugged helplessly. “The Wizard alone knows. The prince is
dependably unorthodox. However, it is predicted that within a fortnight he will
come. Possibly sooner. The Western Border is still in need of him, for Wilders
keep threatening the boundary. The barbaric tribesmen are resilient, yet not
impossible to defeat.”
Earl Quinn nodded. “So I have heard.”
“How was the journey?”
“Eventful,” Quinn muttered. “Suspected intruders—cursed
peasants!—came into camp one night.”
“By the Silver Eye.”
“If you will follow my steps and guidance, my lady.” Olivia looked
up the stairs to Sobriina as she gestured to the oaken doors of the castle. She
glanced away and took in a breath before continuing. As two stewards opened the
doors, Olivia wrapped her cloak tighter to her body, and followed Sobriina into
Crown Haven.
The entrance gave way to the Great Hall. The high ceiling and
length of the hall caused all sound to echo from one end to the other. Guards
stood on either side of the doorway, their eyes directed ahead, weapons
sheathed but ready. One had a dog seated beside him.
Servants bustled past, heads lowered in a bow until their
queen-to-be walked by. The hall was adorned with tapestries that told stories
of ancient heroes, both historical and fictional. Amid the seamed stories were
life-size tapestries of past royalty. Olivia looked up into the sewn eyes of
several queens and noticed some smiled, yet most did not.
I’ll be up there, too. Olivia pictured herself dressed in furs and
finery, stitched into a tapestry to hang for all to see. Her eyes fell to the
floor and she swallowed. A wall-length fireplace blazed and filled one side of
the room with orange light and warmth. Smoke billowed about the high ceiling
and gradually found its way out the opened windows.
Wolfhounds sat beside the fire and crunched fresh bones; their
moistened noses twitched as the new arrivals passed. A lengthy, wooden dining
table lined with benches ran through the center of the hall. Though the fire
burned and tapestries warded off the cold air, a chill still seeped through the
stone walls and floor.
The small party followed Sobriina as
she climbed the stairs and walked down a long passageway. “I am closely bound
to the royal family,” she said as she led with long strides, her back straight
and head high like any Suvarian nobility. “It was they who asked me so
favorably if I could offer a helping hand to the nation’s fresh queen.”
Olivia nodded. “I am grateful, yet you are far from home. O’taro
Province, correct?”
“Indeed.” Sobriina nodded. “I was already here, in Tulaun, when
the prince needed a woman’s touch in welcoming you.”
“And why were you in Tulaun?”
“Because of my father, Master Offron de Desoreel. Illness snuck
its way into his life and would not leave, no matter how hard we tried. I went
to find a cure.” They rounded a corner and caught two children singing as they
carried armfuls of firewood. The youngsters quieted, and the women smiled down
at their round, soot-dusted faces.
“And did you?” Olivia asked as they continued on.
“Did I what, my lady?”
“Did you find a cure for your father?”
Sobriina’s smile twitched. “Yes. He is well now. The prince and I
met as my quest came to an end. I was in need of shelter, and he-” She grinned.
“-He has an open heart. Friendship was bound by firm cords that shan’t fray. He
specifically wished I would help his future maiden settle upon her arrival. I
am rightly pleased he did so.”
Olivia glanced at the she-elf. “Hum,” she mused. I hope he’s
friendly to me.
“Ah . . . here we are.” Sobriina came to a stop and motioned to
Olivia’s assigned chamber. She opened the door and faced the young lady. “A
pleasant bath sits in waiting, and your luggage will be brought up.” Olivia
nodded as she walked into her new room, followed by Nan and the two other
ladies-in-waiting. Olivia’s bodyguard stationed himself on one side of the door
and did not move, his arms crossed and his gaze as firm as his shoulders.
Mistress Sobriina stood at the doorway and fidgeted with one of her several
earrings. “If you need anything, simply shout, and I shall fly to your side.”
“Very good,” Olivia said over her shoulder.
Sobriina watched Olivia, her purple eyes searching. Olivia turned
to the she-elf and her eyes narrowed questioningly until Sobriina took a breath
and stepped forward. “May I be so bold, my lady, as to speak as friends whisper
in the darkened hours?”
Olivia blinked and lifted her chin. She crossed her arms over her
chest and stepped back. “All right.” This shall be interesting.
Sobriina uncrossed Olivia’s arms, and gently took hold of her
hands. Olivia opened her mouth to protest, but no words came to mind. Sobriina
held the young lady’s gaze and smiled. “Prince Theron would be a prince among
men even if his blood was not royal. He is a good man. A fine man! Your heart
will join firmly to his faster than lightning, for I have felt his friendship
and kind words. Our souls were bound without trying; therefore, I know your
heart will cling to his soon enough.”
Olivia looked away and almost pulled back, but she held her ground
as Sobriina studied her. “If I were in your skin, I would thank The Wizard for
his blessed hand. You are fortunate.”
Olivia faced the she-elf, her head cocked to one side. “You are
elvish. Do you not follow the Suvarian way of revering your dead Solaric kings?
Aren’t they your supreme beings, not The Wizard?”
“Suvarian kings, though noble and worthy of a higher standing, are
still elves. They lived. They died. The Wizard can never die. But do not stray
from the topic, my lady.”
Olivia looked at her feet and huffed under her breath. Sobriina
squeezed her hands, and released them. “The prince will arrive in due time. I
suggest you prepare your inner self for his coming.” With a smile and a
graceful bow, the Lunaris shut the door.
Olivia let out a held breath and closed her eyes, rubbing her
temple and not knowing how to receive Sobriina’s words. Nan watched her lady,
her brows drawn low in concern, but said nothing.
“Look at this!” Olivia opened her eyes and saw Krea spin with arms
spread as she stood in the middle of the chamber. “What a room!” she exclaimed
with a childish smile. Olivia glanced around for the first time and a glimmer
of a smile broke through the shadow in her eyes. The four women gazed in awed
silence.
A dozen candles sat on long holders throughout the room as they
waited for night to fall and their wicks to be lit. An open window allowed
light to shine through and illuminate the space. A rug of gray sheep’s wool was
placed in the midst of the stone floor, and a bed, made of a wooden frame and a
hay-cushioned mattress, rested in a corner. Three woven mats were rolled up and
tucked to one side for Nan, Krea, and Cedany to roll out and sleep upon.
Two tapestries lined the walls on either side; their thick fabric
helped ward off the late morning’s cold. The stitched handiwork depicted a
great battle between Tulaun and the Wilder tribes from Deep Wilds. In the midst
of the chaos stood a tall, strong figure dressed in a blood Red robe with white
hair billowing behind him. He stared out across the battling knights and
painted barbarians, eyes burning silver. Olivia stepped closer to the artwork
as she studied the Red-clad warrior. She reached up and lightly touched the
man, the detailed stitches smooth over her fingertips. Nan watched as Olivia
leaned closer to the One in Red and her fingers curled until they dug into the
tapestry. With a heavy sigh, she turned and looked away.
“Ah, sweetie . . .” Nan shook her
head and Olivia looked with sagged shoulders. Nan frowned and turned to the
younger ladies-in-waiting. “Krea, get food for the mistress. Cedany, check on
that bath.” The two women nodded and bowed to Olivia. They took one another’s
hands and rushed from the room with whispers and giggles. The door shut behind
them and Nan walked to her mistress’s side, taking hold of Olivia’s hand.
Olivia stepped back and shook her
head, her eyes turned to the floor. “I wish he could tell me his will.” She
eyed the One in Red, the focal point of the tapestry, and sighed. “Life would
be much simpler if The Wizard was always beside me.”
“Ah . . . but you be with him.”
Nan grinned. “Not the other way ‘round.” Olivia looked away, but said nothing.
She shook her head and smoothed back a loose strand of hair. “He has a right
idea for you, sweetie.” Nan stroked her hand and her smile grew. “And it’ll be
nice, and whence you’re old, you’ll look back and be glad.”
Olivia shook her head and swallowed.
“I will be unloved. And misused—”
“Earl Quinn’s just one man.” Nan
frowned and her grip on Olivia tightened. “Not all be like him.”
“And to be queen!” Olivia threw her
hands in the air and crossed them over her chest. “How . . . I just . . . I
can’t! I can’t be in such a position!”
“Sweetie.” Nan reached up and tilted Olivia’s chin so that their
eyes met. “Do you trust The Wizard?” Olivia’s lips tightened to a thin line as
she looked away and nodded. Nan grunted and put her hands on her hips. “Then
stop this worrying. He’s got a plan. He always does.”
“Yes, however—”
Nan held up a hand and shook her head. “None of that talk! If you
trust him, then trust him!”
Olivia looked at her, jaw clenched as her eyes misted. At the last
moment, she sighed defeatedly and her arms fell at her sides. She sniffed and
removed her cloak.
“It’ll be all right.” Nan leaned closer and the hard look in her
eyes softened. “All things work together for good . . .”
“To those who are called according to his purpose.” 1 Olivia put her head
in her hands as she recited one of The Wizard’s several songs from the Highest
Melody; a vast collection of magic-filled songs The Wizard sang in creating the
realms. She sighed and looked at the pale light that streamed through the
window.
Easier said than done.
– – –
It was raining again.
The air was cold as water poured and lightning lit the night only
long enough to see the shadows. All lay asleep in Crown Haven, save the guards.
They huddled close around fires along the battlements and cursed Sin Jo Lyn,
the Han Ciese goddess of rain. Even the stars looked for shelter against the
chill and thunder, for the night was unusually dark.
Lightning flashed like rage.
A distant white bird could be seen, a snowy owl. Darkness covered
her as the lightning hid. Thunder rumbled past and the night split again. The
bird drew nearer to the estate, her powerful wings flexing with white swoops.
None saw her reach the castle. None saw her dive through a window.
Without a sound, the owl sailed into a room and a pale, gloved
hand stretched out for the bird to land on. Her six long toes gripped the hand;
the black talons dug into the glove. Frost ringed the owl’s icy blue feet and
crusted along the glove. The bird’s pure feathers were fluffed against the
cold, yet it did not hinder her.
Once landed, the owl shook water droplets from her shoulders,
splattering them on the floor. She was a Flavencen fowl, from the most northern
country ruled by dwarves and giants with whispers of legendary frost dragons.
It was an icy white wilderness where hearts only as cold as the land could
survive.
The snowy owl looked like a common owl, save her blue feet. Yet,
she was not common and her blue feet, if sighted, scared most away. She was a
Cold Speak, a beast whose tongue had been trained in the art of words. Such
birds were rare and only came from Flavency. Their sole purpose was to relay
messages and information, and they could only say what they were instructed to
say, not a word more.
The Cold Speaker stared at the one whose hand she rested on with
unblinking eyes.
“Hello, my talkative friend,” the owl’s comrade whispered, careful
not to touch the owl’s blue feet. The bird looked at the speaker, her gaze
strong and concentrated. “The master failed us. Lady Olivia is still alive.”
The speaker sighed and continued, “Killing a fearful dame during her journey
here should not have been difficult! They think it was only peasants who
entered her camp. Peasants could have been more effective than the master’s own
assassins! Poisoned air . . .” The owl’s snowy head cocked to one side. “No
matter. Tell the master his men failed him, though he may already know. He
probably does, that all-seeing man with his Wraith Eyes and violent ways! As for
me . . .” The shadowed speaker grimaced and hesitated. “Ask him what my orders
are.”
The snowy owl spread her wings and lifted from the hand. She shot
through the window into the cold night once again. She battled against the rain
and turned her sights to her destination, a distant forest.
Wraith’s Hollow.
___________________________________
Highest Melody Reference
- Romans 8:28 – And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.
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“We now have this light shining in our hearts, but we ourselves are like fragile clay jars containing this great treasure. This makes it clear that our great power is from God, not from ourselves.”
~ 2 Corinthians 4:7
Hearts like fragile clay jars.
Fragile like glass.
Hearts of glass.
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