Dark Court: the summons
Book 1 of 3
By Camille Oster
© Copyright 2017 Camille Oster
All rights reserved.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the work of the author's imagination, or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, locales, or events is entirely coincidental.
Camille Oster – Author
www.camilleoster.com
http://www.facebook.com/pages/Camille-Oster/489718877729579
@Camille_Oster
[email protected]
Chapter 1:
* * *
Ashra paced in front of the fireplace, her long robes dragging behind her on the silk carpet, a parchment lightly between her fingertips. Her hair hung down in soft, dark curls as a lush cascade down her back.
"What does this mean?" she asked Lady Greve, who sat on the settee with a look of concern marring the features of the older woman that was her mother-in-law.
"I think you must go, dear," the woman said, her voice thin, distress clearly making it worse than her natural tone.
Crossing her arms around her, the parchment crumpled in the process and Ashra continued to pace. What did this mean, this summons? She wasn't welcome at court; she never had been. Torunn's marriage to her had more or less been ignored, but now that he'd died, this summons had come, for her specifically.
Raufasger's court still held the deepest disdain for Solmnites, although they had lost interested in specifically subjugating and terrorizing them now. Solmnites had been the original inhabitants of these lands before Raufager had come, conquered with brute force until he’d take everything. That aim had been well achieved and most Solmnites had been relegated to the life of peasants in this new world Raufasger had created.
"As Torunn's widow, and the mother to the next Lord… I suppose he is Lord Greve now," Lady Greve said softly, her grief breaking through. It had been a while since they’d buried Torunn, but his absence was felt in new ways every day. This time was bleakness like any she had felt in years. Not since the world changed, since she’d lost her family and the happy home it had been. The time past had been brutal, hard toil until her body and will had broken—her parents lost in the fight.
Her thoughts turned to her son, Tabain, and she immediately brightened—his wild, dark curls and happy face. At three, he didn't understand the devastation that had descended on the house. Torunn was often away at court, absent for long stretches, so other than the sadness, he perceived nothing out of the usual. How did you explain to a three year-old that his father would never return? Ashra hadn't worked out a way.
"I think you must take Tabain with you," Lady Greve said. "I think people must see him. It is in his name you go, his legacy we must preserve. Raufasger must see that Tabain is an important part of the next generation." The nervousness in Lady Greve's voice made Ashra concerned. The woman feared this development, and maybe there was much to fear.
Continuing to pace, Ashra with her fingers over her mouth, considering the statement. Yes, she was her son's, the current Lord Greve's, guardian. She would now manage the Greve estate and lands in his name, which wouldn't be so much different as she had done so in her husband's absence. Her aim had been not to attract attention, as her being in charge of these lands would be disdained by many—seen as unfit and unsuitable, too stupid and backwards to take responsibility for such a sizable portion of land. Raufasger had done a good job vilifying the Somnites, building a large base of prejudice to justify his rightful sovereignty of this land. Torunn had seen past that, had fallen in love with her and eventually married her. She’d loved that about him, that he never gave in to imposed prejudices, made up his mind himself. "Yes," she conceded. She'd rather not, would prefer to leave Tabain here, but everyone at court needed to see it was his legacy they were preserving.
Actually, she couldn't think of anything she wanted less than to go to Raufasger's court. She wanted nothing to do with the Naufren world's center of power and politics. Being a landowner, Torunn had had to, but it wasn't something he'd enjoyed. Court was a nest of vipers and Ashra was sure Torunn's death wasn't the natural, unfortunate occurrence visitors had tried to convince her of. Thirty-five year-old men did not die of natural causes, no matter what the medics said.
Sadness washed over her again. He would never come home again. Her lovely husband. He'd been a point of reason and light in a sea of darkness. They'd hidden away in this manor as much as they could and just enjoyed each other's company. Now it was only her and she was just starting to realize that. Torunn had kept her hidden, this manor a place only for them, but that was over now; she had to venture into the viper's nest itself, take her husband’s place in the politics of the court. Dread crept up her spine. It was the very last thing she wanted; she wanted to mourn her husband in peace, but this summons forbade that.
For a second, she wanted to crumple to the ground and refuse to do anything other than succumb to the sadness that had taken over every part of her. She didn't want to do this, instead wanted to take to her room and simply be with her child.
Torunn had hidden the things that went on in court from her, but she knew they had exhausted him. Returning home was all he ever wanted and he wasn't allowed. Raufasger decided who came and went, and when. As powerful as the Naufrens were, Raufasger controlled them. She didn't understand how this was a world they wanted to live in, but then, they had all grown rich beyond imagination. The whole of Solmna had been divided between them, large portions of it handed to the lords and ladies of Raufasger’s court, concentrated in powerful families. The Greves were one of them.
"You have no choice," Lady Greve said. Sadly, that was true. You could not defy Raufasger; he didn't tolerate it. There were plenty of other things he no longer tolerated, or kept for only his most trusted. Weapons were only allowed for his personal guard, and the old magics only for his magicians. Freedom was a privilege that had even been removed from the apparent aristocracy. Yet, they did nothing about it, lived happily under Raufasger's rule as their lands and coffers now depended on his grace and preference.
Now she had both land and coffers to protect for her son. She had no option. To reject the order in any public way meant death, and her core mission was to ensure Tabain lived. Death was still too cheap a commodity in this world. Secondly, she needed to ensure he had the power and wealth to secure his family in the future. This was a world he had to live and thrive in, and it was up to her to protect him and his future.
With a sigh, she nodded. She had no choice but to comply. "I will pack," she said and nodded to Lady Greve, before leaving and returning back to her wing of the house.
Walking along, she could hear Tabain's voice in the nursery, playing with his nursemaid. She couldn't walk past, and followed his voice to where he sat with a book and a wooden toy. Toys were strewn on the floor and she had to watch her step. The nursemaid curtseyed and took the opportunity to have a break while Ashra was there.
"Mommy," he said brightly, holding his arms out to her.
With a smile, she picked him up, placing him down on her lap as she sat down on a small sofa. "How is my little man today?" she asked, looking into his large, hazel eyes. He was the most beautiful boy she'd ever seen, but she might be biased.
"Good," he said, still holding onto the toy.
"What do you think about us going for a little trip?"
"With the horses?"
"Yes, with the horses. We'll go see a huge castle, as big as the sky."
His eyes widened. "This big," he said, stretching his arms out.
"Bigger."
"Now, now."
"
Tomorrow," she said. "First we must pack some things. What toys would you like to take?" He squiggled off her and ran around, picking up toys from the floor before walking over to the rocking horse. "That might be too big and horses prefer the country where there is grass and trees. Not a big castle."
For a while as she played with Tabain, she forgot her worries, but they crept back into her consciousness as he settled for a nap, closing his sweet eyes. The world was still a wondrous and awe-inspiring place in his view and she wanted to keep it that way. Returning to her room, she stared out the window for a while. The fields outside were lush and green, the garden preparing to sleep through the coming winter.
She had no idea how long she would be forced to stay. It would be a simple thing, just present yourself and go away, but Raufasger also kept people at court for weeks, years even. If she had some idea what he wanted, she would know what she needed, but she had no clue. What was certain was that she needed to represent the Greve family and estates with strength, as some might see them as vulnerable.
Servants delivered a trunk for her and she turned her attention to her wardrobe. She didn't have a great number of gowns that would be appropriate for court, where displays of wealth and importance was integral, from what she’d been told. For a lengthy stay, she didn't have enough. Presenting herself as weak would invite undue attention and she wasn't sure she could afford that. The Greve estate was not weak and her modest wardrobe would probably have people thinking she was poverty stricken. She would have to add to that wardrobe to be the representative of the family.
Even now, she hated the whole idea of this, of having to go there and present herself. What did they want of her? Or rather, was it Raufasger? It must have been him that had summoned her, but for what purpose? She felt a deep sense of foreboding that wouldn't shake. Was Raufasger even aware of her humble birth? Surely he was.
Chapter 2:
* * *
The horses pulling the carriage meandered at slow speed along the road to Raufasger's citadel. Back when he'd won the war, he'd established himself at Tondoke, the capital of Solmna, taking over the home of his defeated enemy and built a citadel around it.
It felt a lifetime ago since she'd been to the markets there and she preferred thinking of it that way. Those days were gone and she hadn't started a new chapter, instead skipped to another book. There was nothing left of the life she'd known. It was as if he'd rewritten the world to his liking, his paranoia spilling into every part of life.
Power was a commodity he liked keeping to himself, still all powerful, and he really was. There was no one to challenge him, any sign of dissent squashed before it had a chance to take root. Spies were everywhere, reporting to him about anyone who seemed to gather people and opinions. It was a tactic he'd always used for ensuring his own position—elimination of his enemies. His position was unchallenged, and would likely remain so.
The carriage rolled forward down the gravel road that led to Raufasger’s citadel. Tabain sat beside her, playing with a wooden toy soldier. She considered her son with softening eyes. She was doing this for him—had to prevail, for him. He was the only thing that mattered and she had to secure his future, even if it killed her. If it wasn't for him, she wasn't entirely sure she wanted to live in this world Raufasger had created, but her son was her duty and her mission.
Perhaps she wouldn't feel so nervous if she had some idea what to expect, but she would just have to wait and see. "Trust no one in that nest of vipers," Lady Greve had warned. Ashra took that warning to heart.
The air grew colder the further north they traveled. Tabain grew bored and unruly, then slept with his head in her lap, while the carriage trundled on down the road. Crops grew around her, tended by Solmnites that Raufasger, or any of the other landowners, had forced into their employ. Employ was a misguiding word. Even as it was called employ, it was little more than slavery. People were tied to the land and restricted from leaving. As she had been, before she'd met and married Torunn, they lived in small villages, while the Naufren, the people Raufasger claimed as his, lived on vast estates with mansions that showed their wealth and power.
Ashra could see the citadel in the distance. It looked nothing like she had known it. Towers upon towers had been built, creating a gigantic structure that looked both random and complex—larger than anything that had compromised the capital. There wasn't any particular rhyme or reason to the buildings, other than being massive. It looked as if it had just been extended relentlessly, as if he continually wasn't happy and needed more. How many of their resources had gone into these buildings, she wondered.
Now it had become a leviathan of towers, outcroppings, dotted with windows like scales on a massive slumbering beast. It had ceased being beautiful, as if cancerous growth had taken over and distorted the intention.
Carts joined her on the road, slowly ferrying food and material to Raufasger's citadel. It slowed her journey down further as the massive blights ebbed closer and closer. There was little around it, other than a few peasants managing vast fields.
A row of iron hanging cages hung by the side of the road and Ashra saw the remains of people Raufasger had executed or condemned slumped in them, left there to starve to death and be picked at by crows. A fission of fear ran down her spine and her stomach clenched with nausea as the stench of death assaulted her nose. This was the result of Raufasger's will. Anyone's fate was in his hands, and these poor souls had displeased him, and paid dearly as a result.
If things went badly, she'd end up in one of those cages. If it went disastrously, so would Tabain. Maybe she needed a contingency plan to get Tabain away from here if things went badly—but where could he go? Raufasger controlled everything, and there weren't any places outside of his reach. The seriousness of her task, of just surviving, sat like cold, cloying clay in her stomach. She had to. There was no other option.
*
There was a queue at the main gates, a massive portcullis with wooden doors taller than most buildings. Guards checked the cargo of each cart carefully, interrogating the downtrodden peasants. It made her wonder what Raufasger feared they would bring into his citadel.
When it was her turn, the guard turned his beady eyes at her. "What do you want?" he demanded with a surly tone.
"I have been summoned," she said. "Lady Ashra Greve." It sounded strange referring to herself as Lady Greve. The title still sat uncomfortably, but that was what she was now, a part of the landowning class. Well, maybe not for long. Perhaps Raufasger had summoned her to strip her of the title. She hoped not, for Tabain’s case, as life as a peasant in Raufasger's world was harsh and unrewarding.
The guard nodded her past and her carriage continued into a series of courtyards, past what looked like a main entrance, continuing along an alleyway between stone walls, until she reached another courtyard and stopped in front of dark, wooden doors with iron studs along their lengths.
A page stood outside, female, wearing a bright, striped suit. By her coloring, she could tell the woman was Naufren, but apparently not of the landowning class. Not everyone received Raufasger’s patronage, and they tended to make up the artisans, craftsmen and merchants—even servants in the case of the sovereign himself. "Lady Greve," the page said and stepped forward.
"Yes," Ashra confirmed as she descended the carriage. The page studied her and then her son in turn, and Ashra stood holding her son's hand while the woman took them in as if passing some kind of judgement. Was she wondering how long they would survive?
"Your things will be seen to," the page said, her sharp attention shifting to the trunk attached at the back of the carriage. "This way."
The page turned and walked in through the door. Ashra lifted Tabain onto her hip and followed the woman to a staircase that seemed to go up, and up, reaching a landing and then up again countless times. They seemed to walk endlessly, down countless hallways until the page stopped in front of an ornate brass door with swirls and flowers. "These will be your apartments," the pag
e said. "I will leave you to settle in. The liege will receive you at assembly in two days' time." By liege, Ashra assumed she meant Raufasger. Was that the title he'd claimed now?
The woman turned on her heel and marched down the hall. Ashra watched her go, small heels clicking on the dark marble floor. Turning her attention to the door, she searched for a door knob, but didn't find one. "Excuse me," she said, trying to summon the woman back, but she didn’t return and the door remained shut no matter what she tried.
There was no one around and Ashra was annoyed that she'd been left outside her apartments without the knowledge of how to get in. Obviously, there was some way that she was supposed to know. Was she supposed to touch it? She tried, but it remained shut. "Open," she commanded after placing her hand all over it, to no effect.
She groaned with frustration. How inconsiderate leaving her here and not even checking if she could get in. "Pardon me," she called to an empty and silent hall. Walking down, she checked around the corner only to see another empty and silent hall. There was a good chance she'd never find her way back if she walked away and searched for someone to help her.
Tabain cried grumpily, tired and unsettled. Ashra had to remain calm so he didn't grow upset, but she had trouble quelling her frustration. Her welcome here had been as heartless as this whole regime seemed to be. At the heart, no one cared about her wellbeing, and she could not forget that.
"Open," she yelled louder, anger quivering through her voice. "I am Lady Greve and I can't get in," she said, hoping that someone was monitoring things and would come to her rescue. As paranoid as she knew Lord Raufasger was, she expected the walls had both eyes and ears everywhere in this place.
The door clicked and crept open. Ashra pushed it and it creaked as the heavy door swung. Did she dare close it behind her? They might never get out again—but then she really wanted to be alone after a long and fraught journey, feeling unable to tackle any of the courtiers residing in this place. They had two days until they had to present themselves and Ashra would use the time to recuperate. She certainly wasn't seeking anyone's company.
Dark Court: The Summons Page 1
