So, I've always been a fan of the fantasy genre. I love that your imagination can go as wild as you want it to. Its also a genre that allows a writer to tie stories together in ways that most other genres don't. Anyhow, I started this story going on about three years ago. Its going to be a story about a young woman who discovers that she has a bigger destiny than she could have imagined, and the pain, love and strength she experiences on her journey. It's still very much a work in progress, but I'm always coming back to it and adding things. Anyhow here goes. It doesn't have a title yet since I haven't thought of one I really like yet.
Prologue -
Thick heavy mist hung like a damp cloth over the earth, tracing the horizon with what looked like a long white ribbon. The leaves of the few surrounding trees were weighed down with dew, dripping small crystals onto the silver slicked grass. Ivinian stood on a small elevation facing east, squinting against the foggy veil of night. A part of him wanted the sun to rise, for its warmth to burn away the cold vapour and melt the frost that engulfed his heart. The other part clung to the darkness, for at least it kept the inevitable from his eyes.
Ivinian was Lord over this land, the Miricus Vale on the borders of Katharna, his birthplace and the legacy he was to pass on to his progeny. It was a place that had an ancient splendour; rolling hills and deep lush valleys. Every spring brought an overabundance of colour - the bright purple of the lilac trees, the splashes of white from the gardenias and daisies, the shock red of the poppies in full bloom. The air would be thick with the scent of the lilacs, apples and strawberries that grew wildly about the country. Every fall, the land yielded the best of crops, grains and vegetables of all kinds that kept the people of Katharna fed through the cold winter months. The inhabitants of the land were humble and kind, lovers of the earth and vibrant with life. It was all these things that made Ivinian love this land. Not with just the dutiful respect a ruler should have for his realm - but a true and deep esteem for Katharna, for better or worse. And this day, this prolonged dawn of late fall, was incomparably the worst.
As the light of morning began to break its way through the bars of night, the once puerile fields of revealed their new colour. Dark red; a shade so dark that it can only have once been the source of life in a man, the tie that bound him eternally to his kin - blood. It was everywhere Ivinian looked. Spilled and splattered gratuitously in every visible direction, some laced with pieces of flesh that had forcibly removed from their owners.
These were Craelyn men; Ivinian's brothers, his cousins, his champions. It was their blood that now soaked the ground beneath him, the penance they paid for their fealty to their lord and country. They were protecting their homeland against the fiercest enemies that the Craelyn had ever suffered. By nature, the Craelyn were peaceful people, with few enemies and even fewer battles. But that had all changed 20 years ago, at the Circle of Morgilihan, where war had been declared on the Sudhar.
Ivinian was just a child then, no more than ten years old when he, his father Irulian and his uncle Dalun traveled for nearly three weeks across the varying terrain to the Great Meeting. Irulian was the ruler of Katharna, being the first born of his house. His rule had been an unblemished one, full of prosperity and peace. His peoples were happy and fruitful. He had been fortunate on a personal level as well; blessed with youth, strength and beauty that did not seem to fade with age.
He had met Elona in his youth, a Northern woman, and taken her as his wife. They soon had Ivinian, and then his brothers Dagan and Uroshen. The only thing that Irulian prayed for but did not receive was a daughter. To have a daughter was a great honour in the Craelyn society. Sons were highly esteemed and valued of course, but the daughters were set apart because many of them were Gifted. The primitive term for the talents they possessed would be magic, but the Craelyn preferred to regard them as gifts from the Gods. The gifts would only present themselves in a few of the female children of their descent. The parents of the girl would not know if their child would be Gifted until they were near their fourth year. The indicator was their eyes - they would change suddenly and inexplicably. The colour would remain the same, but a new brightness would overtake them, obliterating the fine lines of their irises and diminishing the pupils to fine specks of black. When this occurred, the parents would take the child to the Othlorian Valley, where the Priestesses of Othlorian would gather annually to select their newest pupils.
Irulian's grandmother Ilea had been the last Priestess in his line, as she bore 2 sons. Ilea had hoped to see a great granddaughter born before her death, but had lost hope along with her grandson after Elona nearly died giving birth to Uroshen. But such disappointment did not last long; Irulian loved his sons and grew especially close to Ivinian. Irulian would spend countless hours with Ivinian, relating stories and lore about his Craelyn forefathers and mothers, and telling him of the limitless future that lie ahead of him. Ivinian could recall laying amongst the long blades of grass in the farming fields with his father, listening to him speak about history and his philosophies on life and love. He remembered that his father predicted that he would meet a Northern woman of surpassing loveliness while he was young, and they would marry and that his firstborn would be the first Priestess in his line in three generations. Ivinian thought it silly at the time, the concept of joining with any girl, let alone wanting to have a daughter. How Ivinian wished now that his father's prediction had come true.
Ivinian could remember the first time he laid eyes on the Circle of Morgilihan. His father had been carrying him on his back and he had fallen asleep in the last stretch of their journey. After an inaudible fight against the persistent nudges of Irulian, Ivinian's sleepy blue eyes opened - and widened with what they saw. Grey and black snow-capped mountains erupted from the earth in all directions, spattered with the greenery of pine and fir trees towards their bases. The ground was covered in long green and yellow grass in various stages of life and rocks of every size and shape. There were trees, but the lack of sunshine and water had made them shorter and frailer than the ones on the mountains. Small black crows swooped overhead, their cries carrying on the wind and echoing on the mountain walls.
"Where are we, father?" young Ivinian asked, his eyes still scouring the panorama. Irulian smiled at his son's amazement.
"Perhaps you would know had you kept alert this last while." Irulian replied with mock seriousness. Ivinian tore his gaze away from the scenery long enough to frown at his father. Irulian kept his serious expression a moment longer before breaking into a laugh. "I jest, my son. Take your eye's fill of the land, for we have reached our destination."
"This is the Circle of Morgilihan?"
"Well, this is the Morgilihan Vale. The circle is just ahead. I thought you might like to be awake for the walk." Dalun let out a chuckle.
"What he means is that his back cannot afford your weight anymore, boy." Dalun said. Ivinian looked suspiciously at his father, who looked away guiltily.
"Well, you aren't as small as you used to be, Ivinian" Irulian admitted while he bent to let Ivinian down. "And I have carried you since we left the horses behind. Besides, there are many rare plants here that I want to show you-"
"In the name of the Gods, Irulian, not another lesson!" Dalun complained. "You bombard the boy as it is. Let him enjoy himself, it is not everyday that one gets to see the mountains of Morgilihan."
Irulian was about to reply, but he saw that Ivinian had already wandered ahead, inspecting the rocks and bushes. He let out a sigh and shrugged in defeat. The three traveled southward over the rugged terrain for the better part of the day, Ivinian running a few feet head of them exploring all that he could before his father called him back. Irulian explained to his son that he had only been to the Circle of Morgilihan once before, shortly after he had been designated ruler of Katharna. All the nations of the Western Lands would gather here to discuss issues of mutual importance. Land boundaries, trades, treaties, war - they were all topics that would be discussed by the leaders of each land. On this occasion, Irulian and Dalun were representing Katharna to deliberate the possibility of war. Irulian had received word from a messenger of Voshen just two months before. It was from the Voshenite King Martek, whose land bordered one of the Eastern Kingdoms. The messenger informed Irulian that five others like him had been sent to the other 11 dominions with the same request to meet at Morgilihan. Trouble was brewing from the east - people who called themselves the Sudhar were ravaging and subjugating the eastern lands. Their campaign had started small and from a great distance, but in the past year, had grown in size and viciousness. Martek had good reason to be concerned; he'd received word from the vassals of bordering villages that the Barbarians - the term that the Voshenites coined for the Sudhar - were ever moving closer to the boundaries of Voshen. Martek did not want to wait until this happened, he felt that an attack should be made against this new enemy before they could strike, and he did not want to strike alone. This was the primary reason for the Great Meeting.
Bright, stubborn stars were beginning to fight their way through the evening sky by the time Irulian, Dalun and Ivinian reached the Circle. It consisted of a shallow valley that was unusually lush for the rocky landscape. There was a sprinkling of pine trees and bright yellow flowers that Ivinian had never seen before. But what stood out the most in this place were the 12 large stones that surrounded it. They had been the last to arrive, as their travel has been the longest. Leaders of the other 11 nations were about the circle, each with at least one companion setting up their encampment for the night. Irulian started walking towards Martek and Ivinian tried to follow, but Dalun held him back.
"Let us set up camp for the night, Ivinian. Your father has matters to attend to that do not require inquisitive ears." Dalun said as he dropped his pack.
"But father said that I watch, for I am to be a leader one day!" Ivinian whined.
"That day is still far off. You should enjoy these days, your childhood. For soon the day will come when you'll wish to return to this time, when such matters could be handled by another."
Ivinian tilted his head to one side, considering his uncle's words. He could not understand why anyone wouldn't want the duties of a Ruler. And 20 years would pass before he finally would. He shrugged after a moment and took some tent stakes and started helping Dalun.
The next day, Ivinian rose early, before his father and uncle. He peered outside the tent flaps to see if anyone else was awake. He heard rustling to his right and looked to see where it was coming from. He saw a very tall muscular man with bronze skin that was covered in markings that resembled little coils spinning in every direction imaginable. He wore a tan sleeveless tunic that reached just above his knees, with a thick leather belt at his waist. The belt supported a wide-bladed scimitar, along with a smaller dagger and a leather water flask. He was bald, except for a very small patch of hair near the base of his head that was braided all the way down his back. Ivinian had never seen anyone like him before. He needed to get a closer look. He looked back into the tent. Irulian and Dalun were still fast asleep. He then crept out of the tent towards the tall foreigner. When he was a few feet from the man, he ducked behind some low brush. The man paused for a minute, then continued with making breakfast. Ivinian watched intently as the man sliced a pork leg and scallions into a pan placed over a healthy fire. The smell that flowed from the pan made his mouth water.
"If you're going to watch, you might as well pass me that bread," the man said.
His deep voice carried over to Ivinian's hideout. Ivinian said nothing and did not move. Just at that moment, a young girl walked out of the tent beside the man. She was dark-skinned but not as much as the man, with long straight black hair and bright hazel eyes of the like Ivinian had never seen before. She wore a tunic similar to the man's only it was dyed bright red and it had no belt. Ivinian couldn't stop looking at her.
"Who are you speaking to, Tamoth?" she asked, her voice unusually deep for her size.
"There's a little boy hiding in the bushes, Azara. Apparently he’s too afraid to break his fast." Tamoth replied calmly.
Azara folded her arms and scanned the bushes around her.
"I don't like people who hide," she said with a sneer. "Nothing more than spineless cowards, my dad says". Ivinian popped up from the bushes instantly, his face red with anger.
"I am not a coward!" he squeaked through clenched teeth.
"Then why do you hide, boy?" Azara countered, maintaining her poise.
"I wasn't hiding," Ivinian said, his anger growing. "I was… surveying." Azara shrugged.
"Well your surveying seems a lot like hiding, boy".
"Surveying is what a good warrior of the Craelyn does to assess his enemy, little girl!" Ivinian's voice was starting to shake with annoyance. "What would you know of it, Azara?"
"That is Princess Azara to you, savage, and I demand to know your name!" cried Azara, her face finally showing indignation. Now it was Ivinian's turn to fold his arms.
"I am Ivinian son of Irulian, ruler of Katharna and the upper Northern Lands. Humph” he snorted, looking her up and down appraisingly. “You’re a Princess? That’s surprising. Most noble women understand their place and would know to bow to me"
Azara was about to respond but Tamoth raised his had up decisively, and her mouth clamped shut.
"Come here, Ivinian son of Irulian" Tamoth said. Ivinian briefly considered running back to his tent, but something about the tone of Tamoth's voice warned him against it. He lowered his head slightly and stepped cautiously through the brush until he was in clear sight, but still out of Tamoth's reach. Tamoth turned and looked at Ivinian for the first time. His coal black eyes slowly moved from the top of Ivinian's blond hair to his dusty sandal-clad feet.
"If you are hungry, we offer you a portion of our food; if you are curious, I will answer what questions I can. But if your goal is to agitate my future queen for your amusement, then I must kindly ask you to return to your camp." Tamoth said evenly. It was strange to Ivinian that Tamoth's voice was quite obviously no higher than a whisper, and yet seemed to resound to his very bones.
He did not want to leave.
"Your future queen?” Ivinian asked. “What land does she rule?"
"My father is the king of Voshen, and Tamoth is his Advisor and our sworn protector" Azara answered, strolling up to Ivinian. She stopped just in front of him, looking him over in the same fashion that Tamoth had. She was at least two inches taller than Ivinian. "I don't see what my father finds so interesting about your people. Is your father as small as you are? Because if he is, he shan't be much use in battle -"
"Come, my lady. The meal is ready," Tamoth broke in, with that same authoritative tone. He held out a plate to Ivinian. "You are welcome to join us, son of Irulian."
Ivinian looked back at his tent. There was still no sign of his father or uncle. Part of him wanted to leave, as Azara was beginning to grate on his nerves. But both his stomach and curiosity betrayed him and he took the plate and sat on a stone near the fire. Azara sat across from him, glaring. Ivinian shrugged.
"What?" he asked with a mouthful of pork. Azara looked at Tamoth.
"I always get the first serving, Tamoth!" she wailed. Tamoth swallowed his mouthful.
"We have a guest, my lady, and tradition dictates that he gets the first portion - even before the King. You know this." Tamoth replied. He took a long sip of water from his flask. Azara continued to glare at him for a moment, as if contemplating whether or not to pursue the matter. She then looked over at Ivinian, who gave her a smug smile. She scowled and grabbed a handful of food and shoved it in her mouth. About midway through their meal, another dark tall man emerged from the tent. He looked about the same age as Tamoth, but his ebony hair had willful streaks of grey throughout. His garment was different; it was a deep rich red, sleeved and floor length. He wore a gold sleeveless tunic atop that had small tassels along the trim. A braided gold circlet sat on his head and a large, ruby-laden pendant sat on his chest. Tamoth quickly rose and bowed his head at the sight of the man.
"My Lord" Tamoth said.
"Good morrow, father!" Azara chimed as he nodded at Tamoth. Tamoth raised his head and began to prepare another plate. The man walked over to his daughter and kissed the top of her head.
"Good morrow, my darling. I trust you slept well?" Azara looked up at him and nodded; he smiled at her. His gaze then fell onto Ivinian, who was reaching for another piece of bread. "And who might our young guest be? Have you made a new friend already, Azara?"
Ivinian's hand hovered over the bread as his eyes followed the burgundy robe up to the regal brown eyes looking at him. He swallowed and attempted a friendly smile.
"I am Ivinian," he said sheepishly, his voice muffled by half chewed food. The man broke into another smile.
"So you are Irulian's eldest son? I was right to assume he would take you along. I am King Martek." Martek bent down until he was eye-level with Ivinian. "Do you know why we are all gathered here, boy?"
Ivinian looked away from Martek's intense gaze, contemplating how to reply without revealing the fact that he had eavesdropped on conversations clearly not meant for his ears.
"Father was summoned here to discuss the future safety of our lands," he replied finally, keeping his gaze just beneath Martek’s. Martek studied Ivinian's face for a while longer before standing upright. He let out a satisfied sigh.
"Your father has trained you well, boy" he said. "It is not wise for babes to speak of things they do not understand. You will be a fine leader like him someday, I predict." Ivinian smiled at this. Martek looked back to Azara, who was squinting venomously at Ivinian.
"Tell me, Ivinian," Martek said, "Has my daughter been courteous to you? I'm aware that she has a tendency to be a bit...hasty in her manners."
Ivinian looked toward Tamoth, who was not-so-coincidentally busying himself preparing Martek's plate. He then looked over at Azara, who now had a look of dread on her face. She looked up quickly at Ivinian, then down to her plate. Ivinian then looked back at Martek, whose intense gaze had again fallen on him. Ivinian contemplated the benefits of tattling on the young princess, but she looked up at him again, this time her eyes were glassy with tears. Ivinian would be a grown man before he understood his actions at that moment. He looked up at Martek.
"Your daughter has been very kind and generous to me, King Martek. She even offered me breakfast," he replied at length. There was a small clatter from the pan Tamoth was holding, but he did not look up. Martek again studied Ivinian, then nodded approvingly.
"Very good, then" Martek remarked, turning and walking toward Azara. He brushed his hand over her head and smiled. "I am pleased to hear such a good report, my dear." Azara beamed at him. Martek looked at Ivinian. "Please, eat your fill." Tamoth stood up and offered a plate of food to Martek, but Martek looked at the plate then waved his hand dismissively.
"My thoughts leave no room for appetite, Tamoth. Let the children have my portion. We should go to the circle, we have much to discuss before the others wake." Tamoth nodded obediently and followed Martek towards the Circle. Ivinian and Azara watched the two until they were out of sight. Ivinian looked at Martek's unattended plate and smiled as he grabbed a large piece of pork. He was about to take a bite far too large with his mouth to house when he felt a soft brush against his cheek. Azara had kissed him. He felt heat flare up from his cheek and swiftly move across his face and neck.
"W-what...why did you do that?" he stammered when he found his voice. Azara looked down shyly.
"It was to thank you, for what you said to my father," she replied softly. "I am in your debt...Ivinian". She bowed at him. Ivinian opened his mouth to speak, but found he had no words. They stared at each other for a moment and then Azara suddenly looked up. Ivinian followed her stare to a familiar set of blue eyes.
"Father!" Ivinian exclaimed as he stood up, his plate falling to the ground. Irulian nodded at his son and said,
"I was worried that you'd wandered off in the night and were alone and hungry. But I see now that you are well, and that you've broken your fast already." Ivinian was about to respond, but his father raised his hand to stop him. "Will you introduce me to your gracious host?" Ivinian looked at Azara blankly. Azara shook her head.
"I'm Princess Azara of Voshen, Lord Irulian." She said, bowing. "Please excuse me, my lord. I have matters to attend to before the meeting starts. Good-bye Ivinian, son of Irulian". She bowed to him again and started towards the tent.
"She’s quite the young lady," Irulian commented. "She seems to have captured your attention in a way that I've never could." Ivinian looked up at his father.
"I'm going to marry her one day father." He said simply. Irulian laughed.
"Many a man has felt that way after his first kiss. We'll see how you feel once you've explored the world of women a bit more, yes?" Irulian said. Ivinian smiled at his father, not quite understanding, but knowing on some level that what he had said about Azara was true.
