Princess Eufamia moved around the children. Once more, her arms outstretched. She said, “Katia te kuwaha. Tukua kahore tomokanga.”
Terrified, Kela watched a faceless entity emerge in the mighty winds of the gateway and cry out a petrifying scream. Princess Eufamia gave no ground, but held firm, uttering the words until the winds ceased and the cry was no more.
Her spell barred the evil from entering.
Slowly, Princess Eufamia lowered her head. Holding her hands out, Falco and Kela ran into their mother’s arms and embraced. She kissed the tops of her children’s heads. “Listen carefully, my precious children. There is no time to explain. Guilda is going to take you to a place far away from here. She will care for you until I come.
“If I do not follow, know it is only because I cannot. Do not forget all I have taught you. Hold true to yourself and remember your destiny. Carry my love with you always.”
Princess Eufamia took Sareta from Guilda and cuddled her to her bosom. Kissing the baby’s cheek, tears flowed freely down her cheeks. She handed her youngest back to Guilda along with the box she held in her robe.
“Don’t forget my words.”
“I will do as you command, but, Your Grace, come with us,” Guilda pleaded, knowing that the princess was a daughter of a king. Dutiful and strong, Princess Eufamia would protect her land and her people above all else.
Princess Eufamia did not answer but knelt down to Falco and Kela.
“Mother, I will stay with you. I will fight by your side. Father says a Calledwdele never surrenders,” Falco vowed.
Mother caressed his cheek. “No, Falco, your day is not yet. You need to depart to have that day.” She turned to Kela. “Kela, my protector…”
She said no more for a great horn blew from outside the chamber. Deep-throated calls cried out. Pounding again and again against the door. At the same moment, the gateway began to quiver and shake. The floor moved, causing all within to lose balance and fall.
Once more, instincts within Kela responded. She scrambled to her feet and held her hands outward. Light blasted from Kela’s hands, one shield toward the door and another toward the gateway.
She gave to her mother a shield to protect. It was her calling.
Kela was a Euchoun from the day she was born.
“Sister, do not let go,” Falco demanded. “Do not let go.”
Princess Eufamia crawled to her feet. Her eyes fixed upon her daughter.
Kela cried, “I will not fail you, Mother.”
“Stand back,” Mother gave a weary nod to her beloved children. “I need to bring back all those of your father’s legion who have survived the assault.” She waved her arm across her body. “Kawea hoki Mithelk tangata. Ka rite ki ki katoa.”
A fog emerged, and then, a form appeared. One man. One Sordarin.
Tall, broad of shoulders, lean of muscle, the Sordarin swung hard his sword.
“Take care!” Princess Eufamia cried. “You are back within Nottesdone!”
The warrior sank to his knee with his hand on the grip of his sword. “Your Grace… what…Nottesdone? How?”
“It makes no difference. Time is of the essence. There are no others?”
He shook his head slowly. “There were no other survivors. I was the last standing.”
“Mithelk?”
“I’m sorry, Your Grace,” he lowered his gaze. He added nothing else. He himself was badly injured. His broad wing hung awkwardly. His side and hands bled. A wound above his eye gushed forth blood that flowed down his cheek.
The news cut Princess Eufamia worse than if he had plunged his sword through her heart. She gripped her stomach. “Your name?”
“Turstan.”
“Turstan, I have need of you.”
“My sword is yours,” he pledged. Rising, he staggered forth. “What is your command? Do you want me to defend the door while you escape…?”
“No, I need you to give me your oath that you will defend my children with your life.”
“I pledged my life to your husband. I’m yours to command.”
“Then prepare.” Princess Eufamia turned to her old nurse. “There is no more time. Take the box and find a place of peace to raise my children. Teach them the ways. Protect them, but prepare. They will search…whoever has betrayed us…do not let them find my children until it is time.”
“Please, Your Grace, come with us.” Guilda’s voice faltered.
“My faithful Guilda, you know better than I, we cannot question. We all have our purpose to fulfill. Promise me you will care…”
Banging commenced against the door. Louder and louder.
Turstan looked at Princess Eufamia strangely. Shaking his head in confusion, he begged, “Let me stay. I will defend…”
Princess Eufamia shook her head. “You are to go with my children, protect them with your life.”
Echoes of the assault descend down upon the desolate children.
Time was up.
The princess said, “I send you now, my children. Go with my love…my hope.”
Kela’s arms ached and began to waver, but with all her being, Kela felt the compulsion to stay. “Do not send me…”
Her mother’s eyes misted. “You have to go, Kela. You have to live. Turstan.”
The broken warrior picked Kela up, breaking her shield. He rushed beside Guilda with Falco in tow.
Words again the princess uttered in her native language. The two loyal servants and children began to disappear, but Kela reached forth once more and another light irradiated from her hand, sending another shield to surround her beloved mother.
Kela saw no more except in her dream.
In her dream, Kela saw her brave mother watching her beloved children fade from sight, hoping against all hope she had sent them far enough away. That all was not lost…
Kela saw the door demolished.
She heard their swords and weapons trying to permeate the shield Kela had given her mother. The shield gave her mother the time needed to accomplish her objective. Her intention held firm upon the words she uttered.
“Kovia ropia repqouq ewo, iade xpovoc kabapa kapoia eriotpateuw ueto!”
The room began to shake; the walls crumbled. Fear surged through the assailants. There would be no escape. The room erupted, collapsing around them.
The protection of Kela’s shield gave way.
Princess Eufamia fought to the end, falling under the rubble. Kela heard her mother’s last word uttered, “Mithelk.”
Princess Eufamia breathed no more.
In this Kela dreams and knows, she will not falter in her quest to fulfill her destiny.
SIOCHANTA REALM
KELA
The Encounter
Galloping through the grasslands, the wind whipped through Kela’s long, dark hair. Her hat was long lost along the riverbank.
Kela made no attempt to retrieve it. Her attention lay only upon the purpose in front of her—Falco!
From the corner of her eye, she saw her brother edge closer.
The sun shone brightly in the cloudless sky, giving way to a fine day. One that neither Falco nor she could ignore. The rains of the last week had finally broken.
In the far distant north lay white-tipped mountains, the majestic Preda Mountain Range reigning over Helvetet, the Valley of Hell, as it was called by the Uddes, the inhabitants of the region.
They rode across the stretch called the Black Forest, given the name because of the excruciating effort it took to enter. Two thousand foot high cliffs enclosed the valley along with the rapids on the powerful Kampar River, which flowed through the basin.
According to Turstan, there was only one safe trail that allowed for travel, heavily guarded by the Brixtone Army. Helvetet was an important source of grain and rice for the country of Brixtone. Despite the isolation of Helvetet, the grand Kampar flowed boldly down into the valley, giving life to all around.
The valley was blessed with fertile land for its crops; the forest plentif
ul with game. Helvetet had been a perfect place for their small family to live, except Brixtone was the sworn enemy of Scarladin.
The fact did little to keep Falco and Kela from dreaming. The intimidating presence of the Preda Mountain Range in the distance served as an entrance to the Kingdom of Scarladin, their home, or it would have been if not for that fateful night seven years ago.
Stories of their home had been told many times to the children by Turstan. He boasted in great length about the virtues of the Sordarins. Battles fought…wars…and victories won.
Falco and Kela hung upon his every word, clinging to the hope of one day returning in triumph. The two looked high. When the fog cleared, the hawkmen would be seen soaring in the skies.
Since he learned to walk, her brother yearned for the day he, too, would soar. The desire ignited his soul and burned in his heart.
For years, Falco had talked of nothing else, but only now have they come close enough to get a glimpse of Scarladin grandeur.
“Yucca sits upon the highest bluff overlooking Scarladin. A great wall encircles the city, home to King Edulf, your grandfather. The height and steepness of the cliffs below serve to discourage any from such a dangerous climb. Within the walls, the castle is encircled by three towers. Standing between the Twin Towers lays the Great Hall.”
The children had long grown accustomed to Turstan’s ramblings of finding their long-lost grandfather, but on this day Kela gave little thought to the castle in the distance. She was intent only upon her goal.
Regretting not having taken the time to tighten her braids, Kela fought against the distraction of her unruly hair. In a vain attempt, she pushed it back, all the while urging her mount onward. Glancing over her shoulder, she realized she had lost ground after the turn.
Falco laughed as if victory had already been claimed.
The thought of losing again gnawed at Kela’s pride. Not again! Not today!
Jerking the reins, she took a sharp turn from the path to cut through the underbrush. Dodging branches, she kicked her heels into the roan’s side. Her mount responded. The finish lay within her view beyond a long extended ditch.
Clicking her tongue, the pony understood her needs. In her next breath, her mount lunged through the air. For a brief moment, Kela felt as if she was flying.
Landing abruptly, the pony’s legs buckled, almost throwing her. Regaining control, Kela flung her hands up in the air, having landed well beyond the finish line. Reining in her pony, she turned in triumph to Falco, who brought his horse down to a trot.
He frowned.
“Ha! I won!” Kela cried most boastfully.
“You bloody fool! You could have killed yourself!” Falco declared, taking his hat off and hitting it against his leg. Irritation echoed within his voice.
She stared at him, uncertain if his frustration was concern or the fact he lost. She decided the latter.
His dark sandy hair ruffled on the breeze. His deep blue eyes narrowed. Falco’s white shirt was smeared with signs of leaning against his chestnut horse. “If I urged Mayer on, we would have collided!”
At that moment, Kela couldn’t care. She wiped the sweat from her brow with the sleeve of the borrowed shirt, but her thick dark hair clung to her forehead. Now, she regretted losing her hat.
Moreover, Turstan wouldn't be happy. Lately, he harped on the fact she should conduct herself more like a lady. Like he would know what a lady should behave like. She laughed at the thought.
Riding with her brother, Kela halted before him. “You're only mad because you got beat! How many times have you beaten me? Never mind that your horse has longer legs!”
He grimaced, arching his back one way than another. With his hand, he tried in vain to scratch his back.
“Not going to do you any good, Falco,” Kela teased him, taking advantage of the rare circumstance of having the upper hand. “Turstan said it will take months for your wings to form. You have no choice but to endure.”
A huge grin formed on his face. “But when they do, I'll no longer be grounded. It will be the skies for me. Poor Kela, we will see who beats who then!”
Falco knew her better than any. Jealousy swelled. Why could I not have been born a male? Life wasn't fair to have treated her in this manner.
Refusing to allow him the upper hand, she countered, “But it's not this day! I'll race you home!”
Without waiting for a reply, she took off, thinking herself brilliant by taking the lowlands. But in her haste, she had forgotten the heavy rains. She had not gotten far when the pony slowed under the weight of the sodden mud on his hooves.
With the greatest of reluctance, she turned around as the ground gave way beneath the weight of the pony and herself. Soggy and muddy, there was no way she would ever make it through.
To make matters worse, the echoes of Falco laughing fell upon her ears while he galloped away.
Oh, why did I not think? She reprimanded herself soundly. How many times had Turstan told her she was too impulsive?
Slowly, Kela back-tracked through the mud. Oh! I will never hear the end of this! With the thought of the gloating Falco waiting on her, she deliberately slowed her progress.
At least she would make Turstan happy. She would go back and retrieve the hat. He wouldn't be happy if she came back again without it. He had threatened to withhold her riding if she lost another. Kela wrinkled her nose. He was always threatening something!
Sometimes she believed he liked to hear himself talk. Turstan rarely carried through with any of his threats.
Kela slowed the pace of her mount to look through the tall, thick grass. Finally dismounting, she walked. There was no hurry. She knew what awaited her return, either taunting by Falco or another lecture, which surely would follow from Guilda.
Engrossed in her undertaking, a loud and thunderous noise caught her off guard. She hesitated. There were voices coming from up-river.
She crept toward the sounds, knowing few people ventured this far into the wilderness. Down the river’s edge, she saw men along the riverbank. Their attention seemed to be focused by a commotion from within the water.
Curious, she eased ever so quietly through the underbrush to the edge of the trees. To her shock, the men were soldiers, clad in quite distinctive uniforms. Deep blue tunics showed under their body armor, and they wore gold helmets; but it was their banner that sent a shiver down her spine—they held the Royal Brixtone sigil—the roaring lion.
Kela relaxed as she watched them all share a laugh and even smiled when she caught sight of the mishap. Flailing in the flowing river was a large, bearded man, screaming unintelligible words. Making an effort to stand, he was met with another strong wave that pushed him back under the water.
One rider wore the markings of nobility. A fine, supple cloak trimmed in fur, his garments were colored a bright purple adorned with a gold edge. Leaping from his horse, he ran toward the man and cried, “Your Majesty!”
Rushing into the strong current, the man slipped and fell into the irate nobleman. The two floundered in the moving water. Standing, the man reached back to pull his lord up but lost his footing. Both tumbled back into the water.
The noble burst upward, pushing the imbecile. “Lord Falk, get off of me. Find me my crown!”
Laughing to herself, she watched only a moment more. Guards joined the search for the lost coronet, thrashing wildly in the water.
A preposterous scene in truth.
The water rose no more than waist deep at that point of the river. Let His Majesty walk out of the river on his own. His guards seemed to be saving the noble more from himself than anything else.
Swatting away offers of any further help, His Majesty emerged from the Kampar waterlogged, dragging his heavy legs through the water. Once on dry land, his garments clung to his stout frame, accentuating his rather large protruding stomach.
“I have it!” Lord Falk cried, trotting through the water onto the river bank.
Angrily, His Majesty grabbed
the crown and placed it back on his bald head. His massive plum-colored cloak weighed heavy on him and his face strained under the weight. His jaws drooped, displaying his double chin. His eyes, though, illuminated his rage.
He was not a man to engage.
Time to depart. She eased away quietly from the sight.
No sooner had she mounted her pony, she halted. She heard him—Falco.
Kela.
The next moment, a voice roared, “Take hold of him! Do not let him depart!”
Kela.
It was her arrogant brother! Oh, by all that is good! What have you done?
Come! Do not reprimand me…at least not yet. For I believe I may need some assistance.
Leading her pony, she edged back toward the commotion. Her gaze swept back and forth over the site, and stopped on her brother. He stood with a foolish grin on his face, not far from where the nobleman had fallen, hidden from her view at first by the guards.
Hatless, he whipped his shoulder-length hair out of his face. His horse stood quietly along the bank with his reins touching the ground. Falco rubbed his forehead as if he had hit something.
It didn’t take much to imagine what he had run into…
The Brixtone’s hunting party were no longer entertainment. Her concern—their lord’s anger directed at Falco. The guards had circled around her brother, hindering his escape.
From the look upon Falco’s face, he hadn’t a care in the world. Of course, he didn’t. He was Falco!
“Your Majesty! Let me help you back to your horse,” Lord Falk offered. He caught the king’s elbow.
His Majesty would have none of it. He shoved the man back harshly and trudged in his water-soaked boots toward Falco. “Who are you? Who dares to disrupt my hunt? Knock me into the river!”
“I beg your forgiveness, Your…” Falco half-bowed. “Highness. Forgive me. I wasn’t expecting others on the trail. I assure you that my intentions were not to fall within the river.”
“Such insolence!”
Lord Falk interceded. “Young man. Get down on your knees and beg forgiveness from his majesty, King Gregorius de Flour, ruler of the kingdom of Brixtone. The land you inhabit.”
Past of Shadows Page 2
