WORRLGENHALL

by Luke, Monica

  The children still sniffled, and as Aderac wrapped his arms around them from the other side, he sniffled as well unable to succeed in holding back soft tears.

  “We both love you much,” he assured them. One eye strong the other flooded as his voice quavered, “And you both shall never be out of our heads.”

  As Silinia stood, she tried to be strong as well. She had become part of the noble household caring for Beladera since before she could even walk, and once Ihon came to Ivodgald, she cared for him just as equally.

  “Watch over them well,” Belon needed not say, as he stood and looked at her, before he lovingly touched both children under their chins, “And just as the king always urges, see that they learn each day.”

  Silinia nodded; then as both mounted their horses, the children ran towards them.

  “Children,” Belon warned, knowing they should know better, “You both know not to run behind horses.”

  Instantly, they stopped and hugged each other as they did, and again overcome Aderac jumped from his horse to give both one more hug.

  “I shall miss you both very much,” he lovingly said, then hurried back to his horse.

  Now both on their horses to ride ahead of the men and lead them out, they looked at each other, inhaled deep and turned on last time to look at the children, then waved goodbye as they rode off.

  As he sat on his horse and watched from a distance, Enek mused as he thought of Ovfren longing to, at the very least have been able to speak to him before he rode out, then as he looked at his wrist, he smiled.

  “Where did you get that?” Belon asked, when about to pass him noticed him fiddling with it on his wrist to make it rest closer towards his palm.

  “It was a gift,” Enek would only offer.

  Aderac’s head turned to Enek’s wrist curious what was a gift.

  “It looks well made.” He noticed.

  “A gift?” questioned Belon, knowing Enek was being evasive.

  “A gift,” he only repeated, and offered nothing more.

  “In the north beyond the icy sea,” Aderac knew and whispered over to Belon, “Leather stranded bands are made just as his is. It means someone loves and claims him. It is a common tradition.”

  “Ah,” Belon’s simple remark, and asked nothing else about it.

  **

  On the eastern wall, the farewells were just as emotional as Laad lovingly kissed Nona and the children goodbye, and Ecia and Oen bid farewell to husband, father, and king.

  Loth on the bottom by the gate, after he hugged his children and tenderly kissed them goodbye, as he stood by his horse to mount it, he gave a passionate kiss to his wife.

  “Worry not, my dear,” his loving words, “I will be with you again soon.”

  As he looked up the high wall, he caught the gaze of Laad, and then nodded.

  “It is time,” he smiled hoping to comfort her, “I love you.”

  Loth spurred his horse forward; then waited just beyond the gate for King Baric and Laad to pass, and after they did, joined them.

  The line moving slow but steady, extended long with men lined side-by-side fourfold followed by the wagons and battle siege weapons, as priests on either side sprinkled water blessing them when passed as they prayed for victory.

  In the lead Baric, with as always Ogorec by his side, followed by Laad, and Loth, once the land opened wide, all separated to march in their bands.

  Ovfren in back among the other high guilds, he took out the gift Enek gave him and twirled it between his fingers before clutching it tightly, as he too mused longing to have been able to touch him again before all rode out.

  He thought of the last time they embraced, how Enek’s strong arms wrapped around him as he lay under and on top of him. The erotic words he moaned into his mouth and ears; the deep heavy breathing upon his neck, while biting it just hard enough to titillate, but not leave love bites, had his heart racing just thinking back on it.

  “Ovfren!” a guild nudged when he passed him, you are slowing.

  Ovfren shook his head hard left and right, clearing his thoughts.

  “My head wandered,” he quickly said.

  “Huh.” The man sounded off, “Better to wander now, than when in battle and lose it off your shoulders.”

  Ovfren knew the man was right. He had to focus. Keep a clear head, and not be distracted with lovesickness.

  “Well true,” he agreed, and gave the rock one more glance, then tucked it away.

  **

  Slowly, but steadily both sides traveled well paced, with messengers between them both to inform the other of each other’s progress or unforeseen situations and scribes to record the events of battle.

  Seven days into the journey, the men of Ivodgald made it into the Plains of Kurn, and able to see Celgon in the far distance beyond it, Belon decided to wait.

  “Why do we wait?” Enek curiously asked, as he and Belon talked side by side on the horses and looked out.

  “They know we are coming,” Belon answered, “Let them wait and wonder.”

  Enek didn’t comment on his answer as he looked out.

  “We will be with Cyorec soon.”

  “Hopefully they gathered as many as they could.” Belon slightly chuckled, knowing Cyorec probably cursed all the while, “The early rains, I am sure brought out many.”

  Enek could not help but briefly chuckle, he knew his brother too. “There will be no end to his gripping when he meets with us.”

  “Ha, I would have a healer make sure he is well if he did not,” Belon replied, “Come with me and the other commanders to meet in the tent before we retire for the night.”

  Belon turned and trotted away, but Enek paused and looked up at the flickering stars; then took a moment to rub his finger along his wrist, feeling the tightly woven leather and think of Ovfren.

  When done with his wistfully thinking, as he galloped pass several trees, the sound of rustling got his attention and made him stop.

  “Who is there?” he asked, as he patted his horse’s neck to calm its neigh so he could listen more closely.

  As the rustling continued, cautiously Enek jumped off his horse and withdrew his sword.

  “Give the word,” Enek warned, “Or I will kill you.”

  More rustling, but no words spoken, Enek eyes became keen slowly moving forward prepared to strike down any who came at him.

  Suddenly, a man stepped out from behind a tree, and about to gore him Enek halted and pursed his lips annoyed.

  “That was foolish,” he chastised. “Why did you not give the word?”

  “I had to relieve myself first.”

  Enek reached into his pouch.

  “When you ride out to the men of Worrlgen to give word of where we are,” he said, “Give this to the guild Ovfren and only him. He should be with the band of guilds closest to the king.”

  The man took it, nodded and tucked it away, then held out his hand again.

  “My charge is a battle messenger for the king and lords,” he hinted, as his palm opened, “Not one to take messages back and forth between the men for whatever reason you may have, and dare I be so bold to pray it is not secret words of treachery.”

  “Far from it…” Enek assured

  Enek let two gold coins drop into the man’s palm.

  “In his hand away from the ears and eyes of any,” he warned, “And I mean my words more than anything that has come from my mouth.”

  He nodded, understanding Enek’s inference. “And that is what I shall do.”

  **

  Both sides moved rapidly not setting camp longer than needed, faithfully communicating with the other of their progress, but King Gegorad didn’t wait for the warriors of Worrlgen to march into his land and did just as he wrote he would, marched to meet them head on.

  “The Segorans are two days ahead of us,” scouts reported, “Coming north ahead of King Gegorad.”

  Baric looked to Laad. “The Segorans?”

  “I am sure all alon
g it has been this,” Laad voiced, “They came to WorrlgenHall to invoke strife.”

  Baric eyes slanted and his nostrils flared. “Then they can die alongside them.”

  **

  Tagia woke sweating from a dream more times than she cared to recall and each one the same. The walls of Celgon falling down on Atorad and him trampled to death by a red horse, she felt it was a sign.

  “What is it, my lady?” her seer asked, as she stood by the window listening to the waves of the Itasar Sea.

  “The dream, it came to me again.”

  “It will keep coming until…”

  “Until?”

  The seer made her way to the door and listened carefully. When she heard nothing, she hurried back and pulled Tagia by her arm to speak to her in a tiny corner so no one could hear them, even though, she suspected many tried.

  “You can save this kingdom and us all -”

  “How?”

  “The lightening that struck the tree with red leaves will hear you.”

  Tagia looked down then back to her seer. “I see us both rotting away after being buried alive somewhere for even speaking this.”

  “Be wiser than the fool you let sit on your father and brother’s throne,” the seer sneered, “He will only have us all marched into the sea.”

  “His words to us all were that he will do what father and my brother could not.”

  “Word spoken by fool, my lady. From a man wanting to be king such that he will let all die around him, then beg for his own life.”

  “He has the people believing Worrlgen killed my brothers.”

  “And is it Worrlgen that marches towards us?” the seer scoffed, “It is another kingdom. One that haunts your dreams, and I see visions of.”

  “Why does another kingdom march against Celgon?” Tagia wondered.

  “Whatever treachery Atorad plotted?” The seer knew, “Has brought the wrath of the red against us. Your dreams prove it, and what I see does as well, but another is able to control him. He is who you must reach.”

  “How do you know he will hear me?”

  “There is always a shield protecting it,” the seer revealed her understanding of some of her visions, “Sometimes even surrounding it.”

  Tagia mockingly laughed.

  “Riddles,” she then scoffed, “It is far from the time for them.”

  The seer looked right into Tagia’s eyes, although not able to see into them herself because she was blind. She wanted to make her words clear, as she spoke them through a clinched jaw hoping to reach her sense of reason.

  “The king that marches against us; reach out to him,” the seer undoubtedly knew and advised, “He will hear you.”

  **

  Aderac waited in bed for Belon, reading from books he brought with him from WorrlgenHall.

  “You will strain those wonderful green eyes of yours,” Belon said when he came inside. “The light in our tent is to dim.”

  “This light is just fine,” Aderac replied, as he put his book away.

  Belon picked up the book he read and pursed his lips. “Of all the books you possess you read from this one -”

  “More than curious I have become,” Aderac said, “To learn more of the bloodlines of Worrlgen since it began.”

  “Why?”

  “It is something to do,” Aderac lied, but in truth he had began reading several of the accounts at Worrlgen while held to his bed noticing many of the writings on the dark season, someone had torn out pages or blotted through, which peaked his curiosity.

  Belon looked at him, noticing Aderac diverted his eyes. “You hold back…”

  “Grandfather spoke of the dark season,” Aderac said, “And of a child that died that could have brought it about, but in truth I believe he lived.”

  “Who?”

  Looking considerately at Belon, he knew it was not the time for such revelations or suspicions. They had a troublesome kingdom to deal with.

  “Another day…” he said, as he pulled back the furs.

  Belon let the matter go, climbed into bed, and pulled Aderac close.

  “Those from Celgon are moving slowly,” he said, as he gave him a kiss, “From Cyorec’s messages and messages from our scouts.”

  “They can move as slow as they wish. I am no rush to have my men die,” Aderac’s reply, as he snuggled close.

  “No good king ever is.”

  “And I am in no rush, to have my love put in perils way either.”

  Belon gave Aderac an adoring kiss, offering no comment, then as both men lay pressed comfortably close like always to sleep, unable to drift right off, they lay awake lost in their thoughts.

  “Of all the battles I have fought,” Belon finally spoke his thoughts, “Not once have I felt fear until…”

  “Fear…”

  “Fear of leaving this life. This life of true happiness I have with you.”

  Aderac remained silent, but when he sniffled, Belon knew he had quietly begun to weep.

  “My heart,” he said softly, and cuffed his large hand under Aderac’s chin, “I did not mean to make your eyes fill with tears.”

  “I know, honey.”Aderac sniffled, and lowered his head before digging it into Belon’s neck, “But…”

  “Ssshh,” Belon shushed before, although it seemed impossible, pulling him even closer to his body, “Sleep.”

  **

  Tagia wasted not a moment in doing what her seer suggested and rising early that morning, dispatched a secret message.

  Knowing Atorad would have it intercepted, she addressed it to King Borlos of the Vells and included in the letter words she knew would entice Atorad.

  After she wrote her fake message, she then wrote her real message and smuggled it out hidden in the hem of one of the gardeners.

  When she was just a little girl her father would take her on long excursions along the Rayen Lake and after her father died, over the years a kind old man she trusted still tended to the hall and grounds there.

  She allowed him freely to live there as long as he maintained the hall and its grounds, and hoped the letter would reach him and he would act duly.

  Atorad, true to his nature did indeed have the letter intercepted and after reading it, amused by the silliness of Tagia pleading for refuge with the Vells by offering her hand again in marriage and tempting him with Celgon’s hidden wealth. She also added that on their wedding night, he would be entering chaste walls.

  Atorad thought the letter amusing as he burned it, but the realization that he had been so preoccupied with his plans for warring with Worrlgen, he had not as much as touched her and consummated their marriage, now concerned him.

  “I shall deflower you soon enough,” he said to himself as her letter turned to ashes in the fireplace before his eyes, “Then soon enough choke the life out of you.”

  **

  Although nothing had happened on the other side of the Cag Plains with Ivodgald against Celgon, that wasn’t true for Worrlgen.

  A fierce battle between Worrlgen and Segorans lasted two days and nights, but as dawn approached on the third day, Worrlgen’s triumphant shout roared high as high guilds forced Arh to bow his knee to King Baric.

  With disdain and on his knees, his sons among those slain, Arh refused to look at King Baric as he stood in front of him. His hands bound behind his back, his clothes and body stained with blood, it was obvious he fought fiercely, but for what purpose.

  “Why?” Baric’s question.

  No words came from his mouth, but his sneer gave his contemptuous answer, yet because he lost both sons in the battle, Baric decided to spare his life and sell him to traders, instead of putting him to death.

  “I spare you life and still you show no respect to me. I will grant you no war rights.”

  Indignantly, as they hauled him to his feet to take him away, when he passed one of the priests that traveled with Worrlgen, who blessed the men for battles and blessed their dead, he spat in his face, which now enraged Baric.


  “You have spat one time to many.” Baric’s angered words, as he withdrew his sword to execute him with his own hands.

  “Arh of the Land of the Hills, under my reign as King of Worrlgen, I sentence you to death.”

  With a swift swipe of his sword, Baric cut off Arh’s head, and held it high to his warriors.

  “Send it to King Gegorad,” he said after he did. “With words to bow his knee to me or his head will soon follow.”

  When they hauled Arh’s body away, Laad stood next to Baric.

  “Our fight with Hemrock will not be as easily won,” Baric voiced.

  Laad looked at him, confident in his king and in his will to defend his home and kingdom, he was well aware of the fate of all he loved within WorrlgenHall if they failed. “But won it will be.”

  **

  “There is an old man who begs a word with the king.”

  Belon jumped to his feet out of his chair next to Aderac, even before he could say yes or no.

  “Take me to him.”

  Aderac didn’t reply, he simply smiled and broke eyes from his book to look up at Belon, who bent down to kiss the top of his head.

  After sheathing Raudgred, he pulled his cloak over his shoulders and walked out of their tent to ride out to the man.

  Four men guarding him, he stood obviously afraid and when he saw Belon riding towards him; it magnified two fold when he saw the stern expression on his face and because he looked like a giant.

  Belon looked at him before he spoke, and even took the time to jump from his horse, and gathering Belon was not the king, the old man did however know that whoever he was, was one of authority and what came out of his mouth was as if the king spoke it himself.

  “I beg you,” he humbled himself, as held his hand out to give him the letter, “I have a message from Queen Tagia of Celgon.”

  Belon looked at him for a long time, debating whether he wanted to refuse it. The man obviously old and frightened, he softened and sighed, then took it.

  “Put him by the fire and feed him,” he finally said, as he jumped back onto his horse to leave.