by A L Wright
The Patriarch currently had need of new servants for the palace and he always found the lower class families willing to part with a child or two for some wealth and houses in better neighborhoods. He had distracted himself with drawing up these contracts in the attempt to forget about his fears over his son and his Son's Chosen. He had decided that he would not worry about it unless there was a real reason to. It's not like she knew for sure, if he had overheard correctly.
That thought did little to ease his anxiety, however. Her admission coupled with how tired she and his son were upon leaving the slumber chamber gnawed at him.
Sealing up the tube with the messages and contracts, he called for his guard to bring in the courier.
"Deliver these to the families on this list" he instructed the courier. "It states this in the contract but just remind them that as soon as they deliver the child of their choice to the gates of the palace, we will give them the keys to their new home and to the lock box at the bank with their money."
The courier hustled out the door, and the guard closed it but remained in the chamber. Mortul recognized the man as one of his son’s loyal guards.
"My lord" Dartein's Guard bowed and spoke reverently, "Your son has requested for me to inform him when you will not be busy this evening. He mentioned something about needing to know which of the books in your library the older ones were."
The guard was obviously curious about his son’s activity, considering his son had been ever adventurous and never studious. Mortul thought briefly about what to tell him.
"It seems that my son may actually be taking an interest in our contracts since his own Choosing. Please let him know I will be available after my meeting with Juron, which I need to get to now." He dismissed the guard with a wave, and grabbed up the remaining contracts from his desk.
Juron was a younger court member who was very power hungry. In an attempt to calm him down and distract him, the Patriarch decided to let him be the next to take a Chosen. Juron himself had been Chosen only three generations ago but his relationship with the very old and straight laced Kurmeina did not last long.
There really was no guarantee that a Chosen relationship would last. And there was nothing holding them together after they were Awoken and the human was turned. Some of the turned stayed with their partner out of fear or out of a hard ingrained sense of loyalty that carried over from their human lives. A few stayed together because they were actually happy with their partner.
The ones who separated moved on to find a better lifetime partner within the Court that made them happier. Some stayed single to serve as a palace guard or to serve in the military force that guarded the lands around the villages. And some few stayed single out of lust or greed for power.
His son was the first case known to the Court where the couple was in love before their slumber. The Choosings were normally made after only a couple of meetings with the human family. Mortul kept it this way, stating the need for tradition and keeping a business face towards the humans.
He had other reasons for keeping these Choosings as transaction-like as possible.
What was not known among the Court was that his sons Choosing was actually the second time it had happened that a couple so much in love decided to make their love last forever. There were only a couple of members of his Court that were old enough to remember his Samana. And they were wise enough to never mention her.
As he entered the council chamber he found Juron pacing at the far end of the room. The young one had been very anxious about this opportunity ever since he had learned he was next.
"My lord, I had refreshments brought in. I know you have been working quite hard on the high number of contracts for this year." Mortul knew it was late. He hadn't realized how late the time or how hungry he was. He eyed the covered trays on the table and immediately knew that Juron was distracting him.
"Young Noble, I thank you for thinking ahead. Unfortunately I have a meeting with my son directly after our business, and I have no time to eat now." Juron bristled slightly when his Patriarch did not greet him by name. It was a firm reminder that his master did not do anything when others willed it. No one could claim they held power over the Patriarch.
"Let us look over our offer letters. I have narrowed it down from the thirty I received, with these three being the best offers." He placed the letters on the table in front of Juron, and motioned for him to sit in the closest chair.
After Juron sat, Mortul stood very close by and did not himself sit. This made the young Noble very nervous, but Juron tried hard not to show it. The Patriarch knew he had to demonstrate power more with certain Court members than others, and he did that now. Juron shuffled through the three offer letters he had in front of him.
After a moment he cleared his throat and spoke "My lord, I do not see the offer from Millienne's family in these letters."
"I did not see that offer being beneficial to our court."
"Her father is a smith and is quite good at armor for mounts"
"As a member of the council you know more than most that our armors are made with specific secrets, and cannot be risked with a human."
The Noble Court Council was made of several Nobles whose job it was to oversee the continuation of long term contracts, present ideas for new contract opportunities and keeping the Noble Military supplied and provisioned.
Mortul had the final say on all contracts.
"My lord, her father is the only living family member. Why could we not have him live here in the palace away from the other humans?"
"His life will be short, and not long enough to serve us fittingly in such a role. That offer is not an option. Each of the ladies in the offers before you are highborn, well-bred and their families can offer valuable assets to our court." The Patriarchs eyes turned dangerous, as he knew at that moment exactly what Juron was thinking. He would not let his son's choice of human woman spoil future relations with the villages.
Seeing the look in his Master's eyes Juron quickly turned his eyes back to the papers, and his mind back to business. After scanning the contents for a few minutes he knew the choice he had to make, and though it didn't fulfill his desire for Millienne, it didn't make him unhappy either.
"Well, Master. I believe the Kroftman family offers the best deal for us. It gives a direct contract to their highly prized heavy horse stock, which will suit all of our travel needs for a long time."
"And their daughter is quite beautiful I hear."
"You are correct, as always My Lord. I will see to it that this is delivered before dawn. I thank you for this opportunity to serve our Court." Juron stood up with the contract in hand, bowed low to his Patriarch, waiting to be dismissed.
“You have chosen wisely. You may go now.” Mortul sighed as the young Noble fled the room. He picked up the other contracts to file away.
They kept track of all the current contracts as well as the unused offers in the offices near his Library, which is where he headed now to wait for his son. As he left the Council chamber he addressed the guard there. "Move the food trays from the table up to my Library."
He was still hungry, and wouldn't let good meat go to waste because of one greedy young Noble.
---
Dartein was a bit nervous as he approached the Library. He had done a small amount of reading since the night of the ball and hadn't found anything relating to pregnancies of Noble females. He was afraid that they weren't ready to tell his father, but he needed to find information and quickly.
Since that night they had watched for signs of growing life within his beloved's womb. She was completely convinced, and he was being swayed more and more every day that she was right. Last night had him almost fully sure of it. His race has always had a very keen sense for all things living. Their military used that sense to track down enemies with accurate and deadly efficiency.
He had never been trained like a soldier, but he had done his fair share of adventuring in his youth... tracking down animals
for food when he stayed outside of the palace. It was like climbing a tree in the night and looking down at campfires, all living beings left a heat signature.
When he turned that sense on last night the light that radiated from Josaleene nearly blinded him.
Opening the door to the library the various odors of parchment and leather stung his nostrils, as well as his father's woodsy scent. He wondered very briefly how his father smelled of the woods when the rest of his court smelled of dark spices and night blooming flowers. He shook off the thought as unimportant when his father turned to him looking very grim.
"Father, I hope my visit is not interrupting your work."
"No I only just came back from an appointment with Juron, where my patience was tested but at least the business with this turns choosing is finished."
"I take it that Millienne's father did not make a good offer."
"There were many offers better than that one. I know that boy is taken with her body, but her bloodline is low and her father would not be able to supply us with anything we need."
"Ah, I see. He is still bristling over the fact that my Choosing was for my own reasons and not the Courts."
"That and the fact that your Josaleene was not of highborn blood and took 40 long years to complete."
"Her family is of old blood, even if it's not highborn she has more right to these lands than most of the rich families in the valley."
His father held up a hand. "I am not here to debate what your Chosen has brought to this court, or what rights she should have had in a living life. I know you have something important on your mind and I am here to help with what I can."
"Father, I need to trust you with something very important. If I am right other Court members will be able to sense it very soon and I need advice and whatever knowledge these books may contain." Dartein fidgeted with a book that sat on the table in front of him, not sure what to do.
"My son, no words can travel beyond the walls and door of this library. You know this room is shielded. Speak freely so I can help." Mortul was nervous as well, waiting to hear his fears confirmed. Waiting for the moment he would have to break his son's heart.
Dartein moved to the door, opened it and ushered a guard inside. "I need you to escort my Lady from my room to this room, with no stops for anyone. Understood?" The guard saluted his Prince and rushed down the hallway to do as bidden.
"Father, when Josaleene enters the room I need you to open your senses and tell me what you find. I have kept her in our chambers for the last couple of weeks, and if what I saw last night was true then I am glad I did so." Dartein paced back and forth as he waited.
Mortul busied himself with locating some of the oldest texts, picking random books that he knew would not be needed, and prepared for the moment that was to come.
Josaleene entered the room shortly after, exuding an aura of happiness and vivacity that rivaled the life force of the most content human being.
He saw her happiness falter slightly at the look on the Patriarchs face when he turned towards her. She bowed to the Master of the Court, but by the time she straightened back up he had already sat down and was no longer looking her way. The falter in his normally impeccable court manners was very unusual.
"Father" asked Dartein "What is it that you see, tell me. Why do you look like death itself sitting there? Are you ill? Do you need anything?" Mortul could see his son's sudden worry for him as he grasped to find the right words.
Mortul waved his hand to allay his son's worries for him. "Sit down son, sit down both of you. I know what you saw for I see the same light within your Chosen. Yes, she is carrying a child. Yes, the court members will be able to sense it now. But know that there is no happy ending to this story." The Patriarch suddenly felt old, ancient as he sat back in his high-backed velvet chair. He ran his hands through his hair, looking upward automatically to find the window painted like his wife... forgetting he wasn't in his own room for a moment.
"You're scaring me, and you are scaring Josaleene. This should be a happy occasion! A miracle father! This has never happened before!"
"Yes my son, it has happened before. It was never written in a book, it was not an occasion that needed to be committed to written words as it has been committed to my memories for centuries." Mortul took in a deep breath, inhaling the scents of his son and Josaleene. His senses opened up and a hint of strawberries and spruce came to him. "A daughter you will have. A daughter will grow within her womb, she will be born strong and powerful. One to rival myself and you as well, my son. The cost of this powerful life is death. Your Chosen will not survive your daughters birthing."
A pallid silence hung in the room, as the words sank in. Dartein's face was not just pale but stricken white. He stood and paced the room, angrily running his hands through his hair in a way similar to the Patriarch.
Josaleene however, did not look shocked. She still looked content as if she did not just hear that she would die in a few months’ time.
Mortul watched all of this while fighting back his own bad memories. He and his Samana never knew beforehand the horror of what would happen. One moment they were happy as could be, and the next there was blood and screams and the wailing of a tiny infant. And then his Samana was gone.
He knew that the outcome of this would not be good, and maybe he made a mistake telling them now. But he could not live with himself if he did not tell his son what he already knew.
Dartein stopped pacing. "How could this be?" He was incredulous at first, but now he was in complete denial. "How could you even know of something like this, if it is not in the records?"
"My son, do you remember ever being turned?
"No, not at all... but I have lived a long time and... what does that have to do with this?"
"You were not turned. You were born. Your mother carried you and she did not survive."
Dartein stared at his father. Mortul watched his son's face as it started to make sense to him. His son did not remember being alive as a human because he never had been. He was never turned, never Slumbered, had never Awoken. He had been born.
"Why?" Dartein managed to croak past the lump in his throat. "Why did she not survive?"
"Our kind was not made for love, Dartein. Our kind was made for war. We were created to slaughter, to fight battles and to win wars. Love for us is supposed to be impossible, we were supposed to be incapable of that emotion. Even for those rarest of circumstances there had been a built in contingency. Should a union happen out of love, the couple would be torn apart in the worst way. Which would fuel the anger and feed the fighting machines we were made to be."
The Patriarch, the Master of the most powerful race of creatures, felt weak as he thought of his races origins.
Chapter 3
1100 years earlier, Dukes year 216
The war had been raging on for 82 years. The human armies were small, tiny even. The fighters that were left were too young or too old, the villages depleted of sturdy fighting men and the folk were afraid of reproducing. Afraid of having to care for children in times of famine, starvation and fear. Afraid that when their children grew up they would have to take up arms in their parent's war.
If the war didn't end soon, humans would die off on their own.
The warlocks of the time had grown desperate, and out of desperation came their plan.
After recent battles the numbers of freshly slain humans were incredible. What if they could bring them back, animate them in a way to fight without feeling pain, remorse or mercy? They had to try, there was nowhere else to find an army.
But to do this some of the warlocks found they would have to sacrifice themselves to darker arts than they had ever considered. The ones who volunteered themselves knew that they had to do this, as this was their last hope. If it failed, their world would be overtaken.
Their enemies were primal and had sheer numbers on their side. Vast hordes of goblinoid creatures had surfaced from their underground homes. They had just re
cently ran out of space in their cramped hovels, the creatures producing offspring at alarming rates. And since their youngest were the best fighters it seemed as though they would never run out of warriors for their armies.
The small group of warlocks consisted of 4 people. Mortul had been the first to volunteer as he was the youngest and the most ambitious of his magic wielding counterparts. He had no family and nothing else to lose, and was the most powerful warlock they had.
His three teammates, all powerful enough in their own right, had already been part of the research that led them to this possible conclusion. In order to amplify their powers beyond anything imagined they had to give themselves over to the powers of Necromancy, dying and being reborn as nothing ever seen before. The spells they prepared would give them immortality, unnatural strength, and would turn them into emotionless war machines. And would amplify their magic to be powerful enough to decimate entire populations.
They created 4 chambers. These chambers had the spells inscribed along the interior walls. The trick was, they could not sleep in these chambers. No matter how hard the magic tried to, they could not let it lull them to sleep. The only way to make the magic theirs was to stay awake and let it be absorbed into their conscious minds. The 4 of them laid in their chambers and thought of all the things they needed the power to fight for to help them stay awake.
Three of them survived the chambers. The fourth team member went crazy inside his and the chambers' walls melted down upon him. It was later discovered that there had been a flaw in the inscriptions in that chamber.
Mortul, Yosan and Hudreia survived the transition within their chambers. They had been completely changed. They were dark and beautiful. And they were Powerful!
Dartein watched his father's face as he listened to the origin story of his kind. He had never known that their entire race was created magically. He especially hadn't know his father possessed the kind of power that he was describing.
