hand reached to the large brass doorknob, slowly she
turned it. The door clunked open. As she stepped
inside, it looked completely abandoned. A large room
with dusty wooden floors, old timbers stood against
the walls. The room was awash with spiderwebs and
dust. To the centre of the room was a wide towering
staircase reaching to the top of the tower. The
splintered wood seemed unfinished, it seemed as
though they had forgotten about the tower, having no
use for it, it had been left.
Climbing the large timber staircase, Librye kept
her head up. She kept looking to the wide-open space
to the top. As she reached the top of the stairs a large
room awaited her. Again, it looked completely
abandoned, the room was surrounded by large oriel
windows, each one seemed to be void of any glass or
shelter from the elements, as a result, nature had
slowly started to reclaim the tower; small weeds and
grasses had begun to grow between the floorboards.
Making her way to one of the windows, Librye was
baffled.
‘Why would it be abandoned?’ she wondered as
she walked to the window. The people looked like
ants; she could no longer see the palace courtyard.
The furthest her eye could see was to the edge of the
eastern gate, she could see the watch towers either side
of the gates and distanced along the city wall.
She explored every part of the tower, the only
furniture she could find was a large desk at the back,
pushed against the wall, a large chair, gilded gold and
covered with a green plush back and seat, the dust had
turned the chair a dull green and dark golden colour.
Piles of wooden floorboards covered the desk. A pile
of sconces was in the corner of the room, a large
golden chandelier was beside the window.
Librye had explored as much as she could of the
empty room. The window would serve as a perfect
place to talk to the stars. The room had served its
purpose.
As she began to leave, she heard a whisper from
the room; she turned to see a breeze travelling through
the centre, a whirl of wind brought some leaf’s from
outside, before making its way back out of the window.
Her secrets had spoken to her.
She needed to stay and explore more. Slowly she
made her way to the wall at the side of the stairs. Her
fingertips felt the stone wall in front of her, the stones
began to signal the shape of a door, another hidden
passageway had revealed itself to her.
Making her way in, the dark and uninviting secret
room was small, dusty, and filled with years of built-up
dirt and mess. A long narrow staircase led to a small
corridor; she ventured further, eventually the ceiling
became low, the walk was narrow.
The palace had revealed another secret to Librye,
finally she had found a way to get a full view of the
council halls as she sat in a small crevice, tucked neatly
in the rafters above the council hall. Chaos was in the
hall that day, Ryan, Kailron, Gurrand and Kean tried
their best to create order, but it did not seem to be
working, the hate of Brenin’s travels lit the air. Talk of
betrayal rang in the voices of the council.
“He must be stopped!” a councillor called.
“His need to travel is threatening this war!” called
another, “If he does not stop then Marrion will be lost
to us!” His call was met with a rumble of approval.
Librye sat for hours and listened to the loathsome
council. They spoke of every one of Brenin’s actions
from years past.
A call of a bell rang in the hall of the council, it was
time for them to dismiss for the day, however some of
them remained sat on the back benches. She could
hear their whispers but could not hear their words, she
tried as hard as she could, she was too far away.
As one of them stood she heard a faint whisper,
“Soon, this will all be over, a throne without an heir, is
just a seat, the council will resume control,” said the
councillor. Her body prickled with cold shivers; the
words seemed to wake something in Librye she did
not know she had. She hated them, and the east tower
had provided her with a reason to.
She did not know hate, she was far too young and
innocent, yet, her strange mind allowed her to feel it.
Each book she had read, spoke of the Atlanti as
though they were animals, it spoke of the fey and
feymen as innocent keepers of peace. Her open
mindedness had searched to find good in all, and yet,
with a council grasped by greed and betrayal, she was
struggling to find the balance between innocence and
hate. Her twisted mind, her peculiar secrets had
shown her more of the world that any child should
ever have seen.
Chapter Eight Want and Need
wake in her bed, Branwen glared towards
the grey stone ceiling of her bed chambers.
A She had managed to spend the day avoiding
Harris, however, as she lay in her bed she listened to
the silence in the room, her window was open, a dull
sound of clanking armour was all she could hear. She
had gotten used to the smell of the camp by now, but
it still seemed to bring an eerie feel of reality to the
room.
A dusting of sweat graced her brow, it was a hot
night in Marrion. Drifting from the bed, she made her
way towards the window, her stomach felt empty. Her
thick, long cotton nightgown flowed across the warm
stone floor. The darkness in the room was dimly lit by
the bright moon outside, nothing but the sound of the
busy camps met her. She hoped to hear a sound from
Harris’s room, but nothing, she could hear nothing.
Having spent the day in the kitchens at the centre
of castle Marrion, she had again seen the woman
return to Harris’s chambers. Branwen could not
understand her frustration, she could not sleep. She
knew what Harris was doing next door, and it enraged
her. She knew she had no right to even feel any form
of jealousy towards that woman, but she did, she was
angry with Harris.
The blistering sun beat down on the fields in
Marrion, a battle had been raging since the early dawn.
Harris was relentless, he needed to win Marrion back.
War was a game to him, he enjoyed being hailed as a
great commander. Another game Harris enjoyed
playing, was far more dangerous than war.
Readying herself for the day, Branwen stood by a
floor length mirror in the corner of the room, naked.
Judging herself constantly, she did not know if she was
pleasing to a man’s eye. Many men had tried to seduce
her, but she would shun them all. Harris was different,
he had not tried to trick her, his seduction was clear
and honest.
Branwen dressed, she chose a long red fey dress,
silk a
nd satin was the choice of the fey, she loved
bright colours, hemmed with golden trim her dress
would have cost more than most of the soldier’s
armour. Slowly, Branwen opened the door to Harris’s
room. She was met with nothing. The sun belted
through his chambers, the air was stuffy and warm,
dust seemed to have been sprayed across the air as it
danced in the sun beams.
Making her way inside she called for him,
“Harris!” She was met with a silent room.
Getting to work, Branwen began to clear his room,
the sheets of the bed were in a terrible state, sprawled
across the floor clothes seemed to have been thrown
carelessly across the room. Slowly she cleared and
cleaned the room, hoping for a sign of Harris, he was
nowhere in sight.
As the afternoon lingered, Branwen emerged from
his room with a pile of laundry to take to the kitchens
which were in the west wing of the castle. The
courtyard outside was bustling with the comings and
goings of soldiers. Making her way down the outside
stone stairs overlooking the courtyard, Branwen
looked for someone familiar to her.
She eventually spotted one of the chiefs of Harris.
Kyla quickly made her way back from battle, storming
across the courtyard calling for arms.
“At them!” she called, “move now!” she ordered.
Branwen made her way down the stairs, dropping
the basket she pushed past the chaos of the soldiers as
they quickly made their way to arms. “Kyla!” she
called. She waved trying to get her attention amidst the
chaos. “Kyla!”
Kyla turned to see Branwen awkwardly trying to
get to her. Kyla was a young chief, one of the youngest.
Long blond hair, and a well-built figure made her a
formidable fighter. She was considered as pretty, but
she was far too frightening to receive any seductive
passes.
“Branwen!” She pushed past the soldiers as they
made their way towards the castle gate. “What are you
doing out?” her concern was understandable, she
knew Branwen’s title kept her well behind the battle
lines. As she reached Branwen, she could see the
worry on Branwen’s distressed face. “What’s
happened?”
Branwen’s eyes flickered through the camp, she
felt panicked. Her mouth curled down. “Have you
seen Harris?”
Kyla’s mouth curled with disapproval. “Not you as
well?” Her shoulders and posture dropped. “Oh,
Branwen, no.”
Branwen shook her head, she regained focus.
“No!” she shrilled. “I just want to know where he is,
his knee is still bad,” her concern grew, “he can barely
breathe properly still.” Her panic seemed to worry
Kyla. Branwen could see Kyla’s growing concern.
“What is it?”
Kyla was uncomfortable. “I’m afraid…” she
struggled for words, “he’s on the field.” Utterly guilt-
ridden, Kyla tried to defend his actions. “He is needed
out there, we’re falling short.”
Branwen’s faced turned to anger, trepidation and
pure hate. “Sword.” Kyla furrowed her brow. Branwen
quickly blinked, she was not thinking clearly. “Kyla,
give me your sword, I’m Sonnin fey, I was trained in
the fields.”
Kyla gave a smile of pure delight. “You’ll need
more than a sword,” she bit her lip, wondering what
size Branwen would need, “with me.”
The smell of spilt blood filled the air, mangled
metal and arrows protruded from the ground. Squeals
from horses were deafening, the calling soldiers were
frantically trying to make sense of the chaos. A
chiming of metal filled the air, along with calls and
cries of pain. Soldiers broken bodies lie in the red-hot
mud, calling, crying and dying, the dead lie in the
chaos of battle. Nothing made sense, apart from the
cries of Harris. Always at the front, was the
commander, always with a plan, more brutal than the
last. Slicing, gashing and relentlessly thrusting his blade
into the oncoming enemy. He was careless in battle,
his own life mattered for nothing.
The chaos of battle rang on, Harris heard the bang
of a drum; standing on the back of his loyal horse,
Svend, his balance was exceptional. He looked to the
plateau. He could see the faint outline of an army
stood along the side. The sun was blazing hot.
Harris shouted, as loud as his voice would carry,
“Let’s see how hot the bastards like it!” He gave a
maniacal laugh before he turned to the army behind
him, “light them up!” His words were carried by the
army who kept calling to the back. The Sonnin and
Cronnin army moved as quickly as they could, back
towards the camps.
From the plateau came a deafening bang, followed
by a terrifying crackle. It was something that the
Atlanti were not expecting. Harris called his army to,
“Fall back!” Frantically they ran, dead horses and
soldiers lie in the mangled remains of the battle
ground, among them were those barely clinging onto
life. Harris carelessly rode over them, sitting back
down onto Svend, he stopped him and turned. A
beauty of battle was before him, blue dust glistened in
began to make its way down from the cliff, towards the
Atlanti, who had begun their celebration too soon. As
the blue mist reached them it clung to their clothes.
Blazing arrows fell from the cliff plateau. The army
turned to flames. The battle belonged to Cronnin that
day.
The mist began to reach closer towards Harris.
Something seemed off, his senses were always right.
Looking to the raging flames as they hurled towards
him, he saw an outline, a soldier stood, fully dressed in
shining silver armour.
“Move!” he called, but the soldier did not appear
to hear him. Glaring towards the flames in front,
wanting to run but seemingly frozen to the spot. Harris
panicked; he had seen enough die that day. He pulled
hard on Svend’s reins, desperately, Svend raced
towards the soldier stood alone in the chaotic field.
The flames raced towards them but so did Svend.
Harris could see they were uninjured and could be
saved. Grinding to a halt by the side of the soldier
Harris again called, angrily, “Get on!” The soldier held
out her hand, it was a woman. Harris grabbed her
hand and violently swung her onto the back of Svend.
The flames roared across the field towards them,
Svend ran as fast as he could. The screams of those
left in the field as the fires caught them plagued them
both as they made their way back to camp.
Riding towards the barbican, Harris was furious.
The guards at the gatehouse ran towards the
courtyard, they could feel his anger. Even tho
ugh the
battle was won, he nearly lost a soldier, and his own
life.
Svend slowed, but Harris turned and threw the
soldier from him, she thudded to the ground, a clatter
of armour rang as she rested in the soil. Jumping
down, Harris quickly made his way towards the
cowering soldier on the ground, she was terrified.
“What in the almighty name of fucks was that?” he
screamed at her. She covered her face with her arm as
she lay in the dry dirt. “You nearly had us both killed!”
The soldier remained terrified on the floor. Harris
reached down to remove her visor. “Answer me!” he
yelled. As he lifted her visor to reveal her face, an
instant look of horror caught his face. “Branwen?”
Shaking in terror, Branwen remained on the
ground. “Apologies,” she sobbed, she slowly shook
her head, “I meant no harm,” she cried.
A crowd had gathered, they looked to Branwen,
quivering on the ground. At one point they had all
seen Branwen in the camp, helping those in need, her
actions were inexplicable. Harris turned to see the
gathering crowd.
“About your business!” he shouted. He helped
Branwen stand. His forehead creased. “You look
ridiculous.” His anger had melted, he had frightened
Branwen. Softly he asked, “Why were you out there?”
Still sobbing, Branwen seemed unable to look at
Harris. “I didn’t know where you were,” she sobbed,
“you shouldn’t be out there, Harris,” she struggled to
catch her breath. Harris held her close as she
continued to cry. “I didn’t know what to do.” He
removed her helmet completely, throwing it to the
ground. “I didn’t know what else to do.”
Harris was speechless, he did not know what to
think. All the women he had been with, but not one of
them would have risked their life for him, the way that
Branwen had, and he had never even had her in his
bed.
Whispers and rumours began to surround the
camp, Harris helped Branwen up the stone stairs and
into the castle. He did not say a word as he took her
into his chambers.
Sat on the bed, Branwen began to calm. She began
to remove the heavy armour. It clanked on the floor as
she threw it down. Harris paced the room. Still
covered in the rage of battle.