Chapter 2
Death's Arrival
The red moon of Rodreon was visible the next morning, half its countenance bulging in a sky pale and blue. During daylight its impression was that of rust and copper, while at night it often became blood red, a startling omen to some when it reached its height and made of itself a full circle in the sky. Unlike its cousin, Mallova the White, its cycle was four months rather than one, and its passage was often associated with the changing of seasons. Then of course there was still the blue moon of Castilleon...
Shala unbusied herself with thought of moons, pushing the calendar away from which she hoped to glean some certainty about the future. With many scheduled events on her mind she had nonetheless been looking at the possibility of a coronation. Once she was Queen, men like Swarztial's power over her would diminish considerably and she might even make a mission of it to see the man banished.
In Attoras, and in fact many sovereignties the world over a coronation was always performed under the full circle of a white moon, it's pure light said to shine true on the worthy new ruler. Shala had no illusion that a bright white moon could stop Patrick taking the crown; like the sun it would give light to both the innocent and the wretched, and anything in between for that matter.
She had considered breaking tradition and hasting a coronation ceremony for herself, but Swarztial would use such a violation only to garner himself more support from an already divided Council. No, she would have to win the Council's trust and nothing less would suffice. And yet the next full moon of Mallova the White could not come fast enough and it felt as though each passing day had Swarztial's case and cause of bringing a new House to the throne growing stronger. Shala had to admit to herself that her father's absence left a gaping hole and even to herself it was becoming apparent that she did not command the trust he did.
Wishing to get away from such thoughts she called for her two chambermaids, Erika and Lenise, to attend to her room. She would sit and work at outstanding charters of the kingdom at her desk, while the two chambermaids had little work to do in an already tidy room. The two common girls would then sit at Shala's bed, gossiping while Shala worked. Usually she would listen with one ear, hearing them tell of the men in town they thought to be good prospects. It was often shallow talk, but it preoccupied Shala in a good way all the same. But today there was none of the normal excitement in their voices, and their low whispers had Shala pausing her quill to hear what they were saying:
There was talk of dark visitors in town, not uncommon after the passing of a great King. Nobles flocked from afar for the funeral ceremony, and with them came a migration of types Attoras would rather not have. Hallin the innkeeper talked of Reapers and those who collect death. He was often humoured by strangers and summarily dismissed by those who knew him well. The heavy-set could talk an endless variety of nonsense and spin a yarn like few, making him on the occasion a darling of the town or a bothersome annoyance if slightly drunk and proclaiming nothing but doom and the end of days.
And yet his stories had a way of creeping from ear to ear, so that Shala was surrounded by whispers of evil men seeping into Attoras. She had no time to concern herself with Reapers, knowing these stories came from the infamous innkeeper. She was already busy dealing with evil men and she had no wish to entertain nightmarish fears of little substance. The moment she did, they would be real enough for the Council to discuss, and it would be used against her because she was the monarch incumbent.
But these thoughts were barely dismissed when darkness settled in Attoras, the faultless sky taking a sudden turn and misty clouds wreathing their way from the north. Shala did not think much of it until the mists crept into town, and that when the clock hand stood at ten in the morning. With Attoras blanketed the dogs of the entire town started barking, their chorus like a contagion and some culminating into eerie howls that spoke of an intruder.
For the paranoia he caused Shala cursed Hallin silently, partly because she too felt it. She was barely removed from her chamber door when deBella arrived. ‘I thought you should not be alone Highness,’ the handmaiden said gravely, holding Shala's urn the Princess noted.
‘Don't tell me you too are bothered by Hallin's ghost stories,’ Shala mocked the older woman.
‘Hardly, did your Highness care to have a look outside?’ asked deBella, obviously referring to the mists in town.
‘I did.’
‘Then it would not surprise you if I said Joshua thinks we need to perform Stallich,’ said deBella pressingly, with a raised eyebrow.
‘Joshua said that?’ she asked.
deBella nodded, looking smug after the Princess had been snide.
Shala doubled back on herself and became uncertain. deBella was rather new to the gifts of Evrelyn, and only shared in the dream of the Icy Falls for the better part of five years. She had only ever been midwife, nurse and handmaiden before that. Joshua however had been a disciple even in Shala's grandfather's reign.
In the time that Evrelyn took ascension, the ruling House had taken it upon themselves to perform Stallich rituals, where the receptive stones of the castle were endowed with the light of the Seluin waters. The King and all his disciples gathered at the pool to strengthen the Rules of Realm, and halt invaders to Attoras that could emerge from ghostly realms, bypassing things like walls and gates.
Shala herself had never performed Stallich before, but Joshua had been in three such rituals in his lifetime. Naturally he had some bond to the castle and its stones, almost as much as the Masons who laid the stones in the first place. Shala knew volumes of books could be written on the subject, but the bottom line was simple; if as much as a roach was out of place within the castle bounds then Joshua would suffer some kind of disquiet.’
‘He thinks this prudent?’ asked Shala, somehow hoping deBella was exaggerating to get back at her.
‘When he saw the mists, yes,’ said deBella with a disappointing seriousness.
Shala set off at a pace, deBella hurrying in her footsteps.
‘Where are we going, Princess?’ asked the older woman.
‘Let's first see if there is reason to worry. I'd rather not have us all go up in arms and spend ourselves unnecessarily. We'll go into town if need be.’
Once she had seen her father and the disciples perform Stallich. She had been too young to participate, but she remembered two things; a great pillar of light erupting from the pool behind the castle and the bone-weary fatigue that followed, having the whole lot of them indisposed for a week. Needless to say she was not keen on being bed-ridden. Not now. Besides, they still hosted Bishop Jaegosh, and the man had a lot of sway with the council. She did not want impressions floating around that the sovereignty was in danger with her in command.
On her way down a member of the household guard intercepted her. The man worriedly told her to approach carefully and looking over his shoulder she saw she wouldn't need go into town after all. In the corridor stood an entire line of the household guard, their hands on their swords and their eyes trained on the wooden framed glass doors of the balcony. There was a look to them that spoke of impending defeat.
‘Your Highness, there is an emissary here, and he urgently wishes to speak to you,’ said the soldier, his face deathly white. By then Shala had a chill to her seeing the soldier so spooked.
She looked out through the window, studying the figure waiting for her on the balcony. Her heart came to a sudden halt, hammering a moment later to accommodate the lapse. Once in a lifetime Hallin would speak the truth, and he had chosen an awful time to accomplish it, thought Shala.
‘Stay here, deBella, but hand me the urn, I might have need of it.’
‘Highness-’
‘For once obey me! This thing is not human, it cannot be reasoned with!’ said Shala and left the handmaiden to stand there with fear on her face.
On the balcony Shala was alone with the man, or at least for now he appeared as a man. In what little daylight remained
his face was waxen below the hood, and Shala reckoned no matter how much they could change shape they could never truly imitate the living. His black robe was voluminous, hiding all bodily movement but for his stride, tattered and torn around the fringes. Somewhere in there Shala knew the being held weapons of horrid cruelty, and was at all times ready for torture or massacre. That was their nature.
‘Highness,’ the man hissed in greeting.
‘For what reason must I abide such company?’ asked Shala, sounding much braver than she felt. It seemed to her that the sun was doing its best to stay hidden behind feeble woollen clouds.
‘Only to settle debts,’ said the creature, also foregoing any further pleasantries.
‘Debts? You are not welcome here, and in better days the very fibre of this castle would have kept you out! Should my authority be uncontested, as it should be, I will restore the sanctity of Attoras, and you will not even pass the lowest town gate where the weeds creep up to choke the fields of barley!’
Shala hated how shrill her voice sounded against the creature's.
‘As I remember we remain free to wander all lands, and not to be impeded by any. We go where we go, because death is our realm, and death is everywhere.’
‘Yet the Crimson City denies you, because it is hallowed – and the Benevolence rests there! No debt can make you enter there, and so shall Attoras be as well. In my father’s youth those magi who practised light and protection in the castle were many; I will train a dozen or more to make it so again.’
‘You have only yourself to blame Princess. The rite you practiced allured me, and more of us will soon come if I am not satisfied. There is a price to be paid.’
‘My father was not saved and death not cheated, so I cannot see to this price you talk about. I only prayed that day, how are wraith-kind sent to me? Or do you lie to yourself to garner more victims? No foul magic was played by my hand!’ said Shala.
‘Victims, hmm, not necessarily. At times death is not what we seek. We balance, we adjust, and we settle accounts that are of interest to us.’
Shala did not like his use of the word “we”; it made her think there were more of him lurking about.
‘We came for your father, but since his soul is sealed, we will settle for less. Today you should rejoice Highness, for we would merely ask that the House of Evrelyn step down, so that another may take the crown.’
Shala was aghast. ‘How is everyone preoccupied with my House seceding from rule? I might have imagined it before, but you and Swarztial seem much alike, and I can see his hand in this. I have never heard of wraith-kind bother themselves with rule and sovereignty. Will you begin to ask for levy and tax as well? It seems politicians have even corrupted the ways of death if that is at all possible!’
‘Chancellor Swarztial must mediate the transition, so that House Sannil can provide a King for Attoras; that will repay debts and make things right for us.’
‘Of course it would, under Sannil's negligence the realm will be full of death and my infirmary of healing hands would no longer operate. You would simply love such a turn of events...’
‘If you do not oblige, then we will visit again and our disposition might not be open for discussion.’
‘You are here only as an emissary wraith, and that’s the only reason I have tolerated you till now!’ said Shala angrily, as she dipped her hand in the waters of the urn even as it hung from her side. She held up her palm, and the wet sheen became bright against the sun, as though she held up a mirror, and the blessed light of the waters were revealed, white and furious in the shadow of the day.
The wraith cowed in pain, shuffling back toward the railing. ‘You will not make threats against me idly, I have many enemies these days, and if you break the rules upon which your immunity lies I will strike you down with light! Do you heed me!?’ said Shala, not letting the luminance subside till she could find submission. Suddenly the wraith’s voice became ominous as it retreated from Shala's magic, as though it held a cave within those robes and his voice was a wind that swept through it.
‘We will come for you. Death is but in waiting Princess! Our rites have already taken hold in Attoras. Death is but in waiting!’
The wraith looked ready to vault itself from the railing just to escape the light. His head disappeared in his robes, and the robes fell flat like the trick of a magister, and from its cavities came a murder of crows, and they flew away out over the balcony and far to the horizon. Shala watched them sternly to ensure they did not return.
Gone from sight, she closed her eyes, staving off panic as best she could, breathing as she would when in the pool. The cold would be a luxury now compared to the terror of what was passing here. She went inside again, closing the balcony doors with a lock as though that would keep the wraith-kind out. deBella still waited for her there, her eyes fixed with concern. There would be no Stallich ritual, it would be too late. They could already enter. Our rites have already taken hold...
She knew she should not have turned hostile against the wraith, no matter how obvious the threat he made. Lines were drawn now and she feared she had only worsened her cause. But for all her sorrow, worry and anger the wraith could come right back and she would confront it again as she did. The length of the corridor was still filled with men of the guard, who had all waited out the events on the balcony anxiously. None of them looked at her. They were good loyal men, but there was uncertainty in the collection of faces. It’s all coming to an end. They will follow a new ruler before Mallova reaches its height.
II
The following day they were gathered in the throne room. This time Shala was surrounded by many men as opposed to her lonesome wanderings - there were councillors up in the gallery and soldiers keeping watch as the meeting progressed. It was as tense a gathering as Shala could imagine.
They were discussing matters of the realm, the day's petitioners out of the way and leaving Shala weary. The news of the wraith visiting the castle had spread far, and was the undertone of all their discussions. It was a nightmare for her. Swarztial led this as a campaign against Evrelyn, and he paced the floor up and down, speaking for the council, relaying their will, and his words tore at the Princess.
‘By the will of the realm and for the safety of all who stand here, your father must be buried as soon as a new dawn. Lest we invite more tragedy-’
‘My father did not want to be buried. He wanted to set out to Nem Nemuris, and I’ve obliged him by sealing him in stasis. He can be taken by carriage and-’
‘You have endangered us all!’ shouted Swarztial suddenly.
‘By my father’s wish-’
‘By some plan of a dying man, by the babble of one who cannot think clearly on his deathbed you decided in all your wisdom to seal your father in his own body. He has been denied death! Now the wraiths haunt the land and-’
Shala jumped up where she sat, ‘I did not use dark magic! The magic I use is pure and it is of the same stuff I use to heal!’
More quiet and calm now Swarztial said, ‘You say you didn’t use forbidden magic, but I know the truth. Your father was too far gone to be sealed by traditional means... so you used darker arts, and in doing so you allured the wraith-kind. I do not know how else to condemn, save by saying: For one who would stoop to such low practice, repent and lay your father to rest, else you are not fit to rule this land!’
Shala sat back in her chair. ‘You already condemn me with your lies and your disrespect. Not once since you’ve entered this place have you acted as though I could be your Queen. And all those in the gallery are seeing me as lessened, for your pride and joy is in denouncing those who would not rule the realm to your liking.’
‘A question then Your Highness: why have you not embarked south toward the Dream of Embers? Why not give rule over to another and do what your father now cannot? Would you not save the land and be of some use? Your father raised you to be noble, and now the House of Council all ask: to what greatness will you live, or wil
l you squander yourself here on the throne, where your rule is already weak?’
It was a dire question and Shala knew if she did not answer it would leave an even darker taint on the minds of the other councillors.
‘If I could serve best by making the pilgrimage I would, but the people here have need of me and I won't leave them to be ruled by others I deem unworthy. Besides, the deed is done, my father is sealed and with a proper escort he can...’
‘Your father will be buried, here, in Attoras!’ interrupted Swarztial, ‘Every day he lingers in his chambers he allures more evil and if he goes out onto the road he will stir every miscreant from here to Nem Nemuris. No escort will survive it! I ask you Princess, consider the safety of the realm and bury your father. Let his soul rest in peace!’
Shala saw everyone in the gallery lean forward just so slightly in anticipation of her answer.
She was not sure. There was little to be salvaged here. No one wanted to suffer the presence of wraith-kind and they would blame her father's undeparted soul without cause. ‘Father Jaegosh, what would the Crimson City say? I wish to take my father to Nem Nemuris, but I’m afraid my intention might cause more harm than good. We would have your advice in this matter,’ asked Shala in desperation. But she realized he was not likely to lean toward her side.
The crimson-robed man stood up, and spoke solemnly. ‘The matter is clear child; let us not cause any further danger. I can see that your intent has been nothing but good, and I’m not too partial to Chancellor Swarztial’s demeanour to you. But let us err on the side of caution, if I could have a say in it and speak on behalf of Allandiel; let your father be buried and be rid of the evils that have shown themselves in these days.’
His words were followed by silence and then many expectant gazes fell back on Shala.
She finally nodded, despondent, barely keeping in check frustrated tears. ‘Then it is done and ordered. My father will be entombed right here in Attoras, among his predecessors...’ she said without any heart.
Shala was about to rise, she felt as if she had just aged ten years in the throne. If every council is going to be like this then I don't want this throne, she found herself thinking. ‘Are we done now? Can we adjourn?’ asked Shala as a formality. She wanted to flee to her chambers, or at least find some solitude in the library.
‘Actually, no your Grace,’ said Swarztial, ‘There is another urgent matter which the council brought forth in recent months and your father failed to rule on it given his condition. Firstly I would say the matter has been forwarded by the people, I of course referring to a charter they gave us labelled Des Pellu...’
Shala groaned silently by herself, by some miracle not letting her face show her displeasure. Des Pellu was the name of the land holdings bordering the town of Attoras in the north. It was a good strip of land overrun with trees: fertile and beautiful and with streams gracing through it from the black mountains in the west. Des Pellu was also the natural path of expansion for a growing Attoras. Yet it was already sanctioned by the Druids as one of their hallowed Groves and long before Shala was even born the Kings never compromised their relationship with the Druids. Not for anything.
‘Chancellor, my father’s words must be familiar to you by now. The Druids are our closest allies, and though this is our land we give them free reign over the many forests. They do good like only they can, and their worth is immeasurable to us, in peace and in war.’
‘Your Highness, the town is prospering, and pressed fat against its borders. Newcomers and ripened children leaving their parents’ home demand more room - room that will not see them sprout shacks on a dangerous hillside! Lumberjacks have travelled here already with great anticipation and the wood will be put to good use, the trees can be stripped quickly and expansion can commence with vigour. This is the will of the town and it will mean much for it. Will you not consider it?’ asked Swarztial with an air of expectation.
Shala knew Swarztial didn’t really care about the town’s expansion, not right now in any case. It was a devious decision to slide in before the Princess. The town indeed needed to extend its borders, and the people begged for it to be done in the direction of Des Pellu. If she sided with the Druids like she must, she would only worsen her case before the council and the people might turn against her as well. Swarztial knew the Druids were fierce allies of House Evrelyn and he was going to exploit it for all its worth.
‘The Druids and their way with the land are a hallowed part of the Kingdom. I will not let it be touched,’ said Shala.
‘Hallowed? We have had this out of fashion relationship with the Druids for far too long. I will remind you in the presence of Jaegosh that the Crimson City does not approve of these Druids. Besides, what special right do they have, few as they are, that they may keep a hundred acres each, but our own people have not even land to toil on? Where is the justice?’
Shala almost felt the villain. Swarztial had some gift of persuasion, but she would stick true to what her father believed in.
‘The justice is in the trust you must owe me on the matter. We do not delve over land for nothing only to scare animals away. We don’t contaminate our own water or strangle the grasslands, so that there is nothing to fish and nothing to hunt. We do not chase away the wildcats or bring them to extinction, lest there become an imbalance in the fabric of nature,’ her own argument sounding feeble to herself.
‘Comparing the Druids to animals now are we?’ said Swarztial, slowly and thoughtfully, as though tasting the words. ‘How fitting!’ he cried in mirth to the gallery, sponsored by a few laughs from his yes-men above. ‘I actually agree with you, Your Highness; these Druids are barbarous and uncivilized,’ he said with now badly disguised sincerity, ‘we should treat them as animals, with respect and dignity I mean to say, but only to the measure that they don’t impede on our prosperity, the civilized man!’
‘That’s insulting! And not my meaning at all!’ cried Shala.
‘It is a god’s wonder one of those flower children aren’t running around naked as we speak!’
‘They-’
‘But then we do not need them to run naked in our halls do we Highness? As our very own Princess is already at it!’ said Swarztial, looking accusingly at her and then adding softly, ‘what indignity...’
‘I stand naked in the waters of Seluin as part of a ritual. It gives strength and is a proud rite of Attoras!’ she reprimanded.
‘Rituals and ancient history... and honouring things that are long dead... Your Highness, with each new rule comes change, and your father knew this well mind you. Part now with the past as you must part with your father. Let us go into the future with new minds and renounce rituals that even the Crimson City do not approve of,’ he said once again casting a glance at Jaegosh for emphasis. He turned to Shala and looked her dead-set in the eyes. ‘If Your Highness cannot enforce change I bid you, once again, that you should not take this throne and leave it to those more deserving.’
‘Deserving? My father was King! And he whom you wish to install is not capable. My answer is no, the Druids will not be chased from their sleep, no axe will be taken to the grove on Des Pellu and they will have their peace. In time we will resolve the issues of the town borders, but not at the expense of the Druids. My choice is made,’ said Shala coldly.
III
There was a disturbance in the castle yard, luring the Princess outside on a day she had little else to do for a change. She asked Captain Merohan to escort her, and deBella followed in their wake, as though certain that the fine Captain needed to be bolstered by a plump, middle-aged woman. Shala suspected the handmaiden wanted to remain closer to her for a great many reasons.
Many craftsmen were allowed into the yard that day, swerving widely around the clout of the Princess's royalty as she approached, them attending wooden scaffolding set up against the castle walls. Freshly unloaded from sturdy wagons were rather grotesque statues in ranks like oversized chess pieces, for the moment cluttered
until they could be designated a place on the castle.
‘They are hideous,’ said deBella in disgust, looking at a stone gargoyle yet to be hoisted up.
Shala frowned. ‘This has not been ordered with my approval,’ she said in dismay.
‘It is an old charter Your Highness, delayed by the death of your father the King. The council executed it only recently,’ said Merohan.
‘And of course they could not be bothered to consult me about it,’ remarked Shala disapprovingly.
‘You already have enough to deal with child,’ said deBella.
‘But this concerns me. Why bother with the excessive platforms? It has the feeling of our castle being scaled by strangers, I have no stomach for it!’ she continued angrily.
‘They can only lift the heavy statues on the outside Highness, so they have cranes and pulleys, and the scaffolding is required for the builders to shore up the ledges upon which they will stand.’
‘I do not like this Captain. You know this castle was not built by some ragged band of builders, but by the Masons themselves. The Masons. They might have left this part of the world, but they crafted their work with their magic, and the stone they set were stones of power. It gave this place protection and made of it a realm, where evil could not breach... Adding anything untoward can compromise that protection.’
‘But then your father himself approved it, Highness,’ said Merohan hesitatingly, feeling the Princess’s foul mood, ‘That is why the Council had it done and ordered.’
‘I hate to say this Merohan, but my father’s mind was not always clear at the end of his days. He had a deadly fever at times, giving him harsh dreams, and there was a moment that I sat at his side in which he mistook me for my mother; he called me Salstasha.’
‘I see, yet there is no great mystery in that Your Highness. You very much resemble your mother the late Queen.’
‘I’ve been told that,’ said Shala, looking away.
Merohan knew not to say anything further. The Princess was bearing the weight of legacy, and it was not possible to escape such legacy when you have it staring back at you in the mirror.
‘Let’s turn in Your Highness, these builders can be careless, and have been known to drop stones from on high. I won’t have Your Grace struck by such.’
‘Very well.’ Shala cast one more glance at the ugly gargoyle in the yard, soon destined to be hoisted up, ‘Swarztial must like having the castle crafted in his own image, it’s a pity we can’t have him stand on a ledge all day, especially on the more breezier days.’
Merohan laughed outright, having little love for the Chancellor himself. deBella shook her head, hoping that one day the Princess could measure her words better out in the open.
Before crossing the threshold Shala spotted a sharp movement in the sky. She stopped to watch with some intent. Merohan caught up to her thoughts and said, ‘Only a large hawk Highness. Although the guard Aphelas on the tower top tells me he has seen an eagle circle the castle grounds endlessly on some days.
‘If it was Metrus he would have shown himself by now,’ said Shala, opposing her own hopes. They turned to go indoors, Shala already planning what she would do by tomorrow.
Dream of Embers Book 1 Page 9
