"Chosen 1b"

"Chosen 1b" 

By;fernand jiro

 Pallan face displayed agreement.  “I suppose that remark about the food was his attempt to woo you.”

 

                “Ugh,” replied Mayla.  “Was he always like that?”

 

                “Was who always like what?” asked a deep, full voice to their right.  Both looked to see a tall young man dressed in the finest clothes of the latest styles.  He smiled to both of them and took a polite sip from his goblet.

 

                Mayla stood speechless for a moment before saying, “I…no one.”  A girlish giggle escaped her lips that brought Pallan out of her own stupor.

 

                “I haven’t heard her giggle like in years,” she thought to herself as she looked to the princess.  Mayla’s eye shone gently in a way that made Pallan think this man could be the new prince and king of Jalstiria.  She took her cue and stepped forward.  “Greetings and salutations, good sir.”  She bowed to the handsome young man to observe proper etiquette before continuing.  “I do not believe we have met before.  You are?”

 

                “Gallen, from Siutor,” he responded.  His voice and rhythmic, slightly exotic accent entranced both Mayla and Pallan.  “I heard about this banquet and thought that maybe…I should attend to see such a beauty as the princess.  Little did I realize that I would find that she also had a sister.”

 

                Mayla blushed deeply and could barely speak while Pallan stood stunned for a moment at the compliment.  “I…why thank you kind Gallen,” replied Pallain.  She quickly recovered her senses and asked, “I have never heard of you, though.  Are you of noble blood?  Where in Siutor are you from?”

 

                “Oh…I am sure he is from a very noble bloodline,” muttered Mayla as she stepped closer to Gallen.  She eyed his powerful looking features and couldn’t help but smile and giggle again like a little girl when he stared into her eyes with a smile.

 

                “Well maybe so, princess, but I feel we should know a little bit about our guest,” replied Pallan, starting to be suspicious.

 

                “There is not much to know,” stated Gallen confidently, striding closer to both women.  “I was born and grew up in Siutor, then came here to meet my future bride.”

 

                Pallan arched her brow.  “Arrogant,” she thought to herself, now fully in control of her senses.  “Why are all the attractive ones so proud about it?”

 

                A quietly voice from behind Pallan eked out, “Um…pardon me, ma’am.”

 

                “Yes, what is it?” responded Pallan as she turned toward the voice to see Raleigh standing behind her.

 

                “Hello, my name is Raleigh.  I was told to find someone named…Mayla I think?  Someone said you would know where she is.”

 

                Pallan arched her brow again at the young apprentice priest.  “Do you mean Princess Mayla?” she asked.

 

                Raleigh’s eyes widened with surprise in them as his stomach dropped.  “P…Princess Mayla?  I did not realize she was the Princess…”

 

                With a sigh Pallan said, “Really?  Who sent you to find her?”

 

                Raleigh shifted uneasily, uncomfortable with Pallan’s annoyance.  “I…I am an apprentice to Mornic Kaliste.   He sent me to find her and deliver a message.”

 

                “Mornic?” asked Pallan.  “Ah, I see now.  She is right here with me.”  Pallan turned to see Mayla fawning over the towering Gallen.  “She…is the smaller one,” added Pallan with a slight grin.  Raleigh looked to the two of them.  He smiled thinking that they made perfect match for each other.  Then he saw a flash of light.

 

                “Look out!” he shouted, lunging forward and twirling his staff in his right hand, bringing the bottom up through the air in an arch and crashing back down onto Gallen’s left wrist.  The dagger he was about to plunge into Mayla’s side was able to tear a small slit into Mayla’s dress before falling to the ground.  Before anyone could react Raleigh thrust his staff forward into Gallen’s stomach and then swung his staff to connect solidly with the assassin’s face.  A spray of blood rained out onto the marble floor as Gallen spun around.  He stood still for a moment before collapsing to the ground.

 

                Raleigh panted gently for a brief moment, blood coursing through his veins faster than he had ever felt it before.  For those around them the banquet suddenly stopped to see what happened.  A low murmur started among the onlookers while Raleigh, coming down from the rush that filled him, turned and bowed to the princess.

 

                “For…forgive the intrusion, your Highness, but my mentor, Mornic Kaliste, told me to deliver a message to you.” 

 

                Mayla took a step back, her face pale and her legs quivering.  She looked down to the gash in her dress and lightly ran her fingers along its edges.  The frayed ends of the fabric lightly tickled her fingertips before the horror of what almost happened set in on her.  Pallan just stood there, staring at Gallen and then at Raleigh, replaying the scene over and over in her head and cursing herself for not being there for Mayla.  The princess was finally able to sputter out, “Wh…what does Mornic send?”

 

                Raleigh rose from his bow and answered, “His greetings and best wishes for this special day for you.”

 

                Pallan rushed past Raleigh and knelt down next to Gallen to grab the hair on the back of his head.  “Who are you and what are you doing here?!” she demanded from him.

 

                The once and brief paragon of manly virtue coughed up a trickle of blood and smiled.  His bloodstained teeth turned what was a proud, powerful smile into a dark, foreboding gesture.  “Like father…like daughter,” he replied, staring directly into Mayla’s eyes.

 

                By this time Citro burst through the gathered crowd, his crossbow aimed and ready to kill, with a small force of guards to surround the assailant.  Pallan threw Gallen down as hard as she could and launched a rage-filled punch across his face.  She lifted her arm to let loose another one when Citro put a gentle but firm hand on her shoulder.  She looked to him with fire in her eyes as if to tell him to leave her alone to do what must be done.  Citro shook his head and looked to the guards.  “Take him,” he ordered in his dark, gruff voice.  Pallan fought her instincts to override Citro’s command and forced herself to compose her behavior.

 

                The guards lifted Gallen up and held the limp body up by his arms.  But before they could take him away he muttered, “Sleep tight, safe at night, away from the demon’s blight…”

 

                Mayla instinctively threw herself at Raleigh, holding close to him.  His arm automatically wrapped around her, gently rubbing her trembling back.  He had heard the rhyme before, spoken to children throughout the years to comfort them in their beds in the dark.

 

Sleep tight, safe at night

Away from the demons’ sight

Nothing to fear, all is well

Safe and free till the morning bell

 

                Raleigh could not understand why Princess Mayla would seek comfort from a stranger she had met only a few moments before at the utterance of such a rhyme.  She clung to him, however, as tight as she could while staring at the man who both had the ability to set her heart racing with a smile and silence it forever with a dagger.  Her eyes could not tear away from Gallen’s stare and yet everything inside of her being demanded that she look away.

 

                As Gallen was pulled away Pallan felt her hands ache.  She realized her fists were clamped so tight that they were starting to cramp.  But she did not care.  The audacity and sheer contempt the would-be assassin shown to both her and the princess infuriated her beyond even her expectations.  She knew he would not talk.  She knew who sent him and they have never talked in the past.

 

                “Get Mayla out of here,” she commanded.

 

                Citro jerked his head to look at Pallan sideways, strands of his white hair jostling before his eyes.  “What?” he whispered.  “Wouldn’t it be better to treat this as an isolated incident?”

 

                Pallan stared into Citro’s eyes and repeated, “I said get her out of here.  Now!”

 

                Citro was taken back a moment but composed himself quickly and motioned the remaining guards with him to surround the princess.  She reluctantly let go of Raleigh, staring into space and absolutely silent.  Citro took the lead and went away with the escort, keeping an eye out for any other dangers as the Princess was taken back to her room and put under heavy guard.

 

                Pallan slowly turned to Raleigh and bowed low.  “We…are in debt to you, sir.”

 

                Raleigh took a step back.  “I…just saw the flash and…that is…”

 

                Pallan stood straight up again.  “If you had not seen it then Princess Mayla might be dead now.  We can not thank you enough for your assistance.”

 

                Raleigh was unsure of what to do or say.  “I…you’re welcome…I mean…”

 

                Mornic pushed his way through the crowd to stand next to Raleigh.  “My boy!  What happened?  I heard a loud commotion and came to see what it was all about.”

 

                Pallan bowed low to Mornic.  “It is good to see you again, Sir Kaliste.  Your apprentice has just saved Princess Mayla’s life.”

 

                “What?  Oh dear…is the poor thing hurt?  Will she be all right?” asked Mornic.

 

                “Yes,” replied Pallan.  “She will be fine.  We took her away and is under guard now.”

 

                “Well that is good,” said Mornic with a pleased smile.  “And you, my boy?  Are you hurt?”

 

                “N…no.  Just a little shaky is all,” answered Raleigh.  “I just saw him pull the dagger and…reacted.”

 

                Mornic noticed a small amount of blood on Raleigh’s staff and chuckled.  “Well…I suppose it could be used as a weapon after all.”  He looked to Pallan and said, “For defense, of course,” with a wink.

 

                Pallan could not help but smile.  She then looked to Raleigh to say, “Thank you again, Sir Raleigh.  I am sure the Queen would like to speak with you when she has an opportunity.  If you will excuse me, now, I must go.  With this assassination attempt I have much to do.”  She bowed again quickly and dashed off the direction the guards took Mayla.

 

                Mornic placed a hand on Raleigh’s shoulder and started to lead him away.  The crowd’s murmur followed them for a while but slowly died down as they approached the middle of the ballroom.  They continued on to a pillar off to the side to speak in private.

 

                “What happened, my boy?” Mornic asked softly.

 

                Raleigh thought for a moment, replaying the scene over in his mind before answering.  “I went to give Mayla…or Princess Mayla as you neglected to tell me…to give her your message.  I was told to speak to the woman named Pallan D’Lude.  So I began to search her out.  When I finally found her she pointed the princess out for me.  Princess Mayla was standing next to a tall and handsome man whom she seemed to be very enamored with.  I was going to stand by and wait for an appropriate time to intrude when I saw a flash of light reflecting off the blade of the dagger.  Without thinking…oh no…”

 

                “What is it?” asked Mornic in a concerned voice.

 

                “I…I used my staff to hurt someone.  I…”

 

                A gentle chuckle from Mornic eased Raleigh’s fears as well as confused him.  Mornic spoke softly, “Do not worry, my boy.  There is no holy ordainment that commands these staves to be used any certain way.  You did what you had too and there is nothing wrong with that.”  Mornic smiled and patted Raleigh’s back.  “Come now, lets return to the festivities.”

 

                They both returned to the crowd.  The murmur of the crowd had returned to normal as the rumors of what happened slowly spread their way from person to person.  After a few moments, however, they saw Queen Laye leave the banquet hall in a hurry following Pallan.  They assumed that she was off to visit her daughter and begin a search for those responsible.  It was a matter that neither priest nor apprentice could deal with though and as such returned to what was now a banquet with no purpose, a party with neither host nor guest of honor.  Soon, however, a servant approached Mornic to inform him that he had been summoned to the throne room.  Unsure of what it was about he left to follow the messenger in a hurry, leaving Raleigh in the banquet hall alone, surrounded by a sea of people, alone.

 

                Within a few moments Mornic entered the throne room to see Queen Laye on her throne looking tired and almost beaten.  Her elegant posture and regal aura that seemed to brighten the ballroom was gone.  In its place was a tired and worn shadow of the former queen.  The effects of the past three years aged her dramatically.  Now it was all she could do to look alive before her advisors.

 

                Mornic approached them, seeing his peers gathered from the ballroom down below.  The rows of tall pillars to either side which created a multitude of shadows on the walls that gave an ominous aura to the room.  The only light source came from thin windows around the room.  He started to question why this meeting had been called as he passed by a tall, muscular bald man late in his midlife.  A small gray beard circled his mouth, almost seeming to harden it into a sneer at all times.  “Surely General Tizmak would not be summoned because of an assassination attempt that happened within the palace,” thought Mornic.  “Pallan would be in charge of any investigation regarding this event.”  He took his place next to Pallan as the Queen opened her eyes and smiled wearily to Mornic.

 

                “Thank you for coming,” she quietly spoke.  “Today…I have received some news that…makes us question everything we have been told throughout our lives.”

 

                “What could this be about?” asked Mornic to himself.

 

                The Queen continued.  “It seems that yesterday one of our fishing vessels had an encounter with…another ship.”

 

                General Tizmak arched his eyebrow.  “A ship from one of the other Crowns?  Are they preparing for war?”

 

                “Nay, General,” replied the Queen.  “This vessel seems to be different from any of the fleets of the Five Crowns.”

 

                Sorlen Belicaust, the advisor to the Queen in matters of inter-territorial affairs, stepped forward.  “Your Highness, what are you saying?  That there is some mysterious ship from beyond the horizon?”

 

                “The Gallant and her crew are the finest on the seas,” stated Corl Relux, the agricultural commissioner, in a slightly nasal voice.  “The captain knows of every ship design in our fleet and those of the other Four Crowns.  If a ship looks foreign to him then it does not exist in our fleets.”

 

                Mornic’s mind raced through the possibilities of such news.  The queen turned to him and smiled.  “My dear Mornic, what does the Church say on these matters?” she asked.

 

                “Well…your Majesty.  I am quite honestly stunned and speechless by this turn of events,” he replied.  “In our entire recorded history we have never seen anything come from beyond the horizon.  Maybe it is a sign from the High Father that we are not alone as we have thought for so long?”

 

                “What are you saying, priest?” asked General Tizmak with a slight sneer.  “That we are not the children of the High Father?”

 

                Everyone in the room shuffled slightly.  The animosity was thick between Mornic and Tizmak, between the Church and the military.  The gifts of life and love from the High Father are all very well and good according to the military but it does not explain their heritage.  Why would the land they call home be forged together as a kingdom one thousand years ago in the wake of shed blood, of tears of destitute, and of the brutality of unyielding war if the creator of all wanted peace, only to later split in apart again nearly three hundred years later?  It was an argument that had been spun around and around between these two powerful figures in the court and one that would not be settled today.

 

                Mornic chose his words carefully as he spoke slowly.  “What I am saying, general, is that we have believed our ancestry to rise from chaos to be servants to the High Father but that does not mean that we are the only ones to have such an honor.”

 

                The general narrowed his eyes and turned away to say to the queen, “I propose that I lead a fleet of ships in the direction that this mystery vessel was spotted.  We shall capture it and…”

 

                “No, general,” said the Queen.  “A fleet of warships will not do.”

 

                General Tizmak held his temper and muttered, “Then what shall we do, my Queen?”

 

                “A small expedition shall be sent forth.  Orbrid shall work out the details with the Science Ministry and you, general, will provide them with a ship that meets their specifications.”

 

                General Tizmak fumed.  “We do not know if they are hostile, your Majesty!”

 

                Mornic smiled.  “This is true, your Highness.  For all we know we may have one of their…wayward sons among us.”  His gaze turned to Tizmak, a childish smirk creeping across his face.

 

                The queen raised her hand to silence the room before the inevitable fight that was building broke out.  “Orbrid, prepare an expedition that you feel will be appropriate.  When that is done then you, General Tizmak, will assign an appropriate military compliment.  I want to stress appropriate, general.  Finally, I shall add whatever I feel will be necessary.  Are there any questions?”

 

                General Tizmak stepped forward to protest.  “Appropriate would be a full armada, your Majesty.  I am sure that the late king would agree with me.”

 

                The queen’s body jolted up from her throne with surprising agility and glared at the general.  “If you dare bring my judgment into question by comparing it to my husband’s I will have you stripped of your rank and put on trial for treason.”  Her fiery stare burned through the general, as he stood there stunned by her reaction.  The room fell silent as all eyes looked between the queen and general.  “I think I would have a better grasp on how he would handle a situation than you do, general.  You did not stay up countless nights discussing policies on how to govern this kingdom.”  She slowly sat back down in her throne, taking a moment to look at the empty throne to her right before speaking.  “You are dismissed.”

 

                The advisors looked at each other and slowly they turned to leave the throne room.  Mornic was about to follow when Pallan took his arm and silently shook her head, leading him to a side room hidden in the shadows of the pillars.  Inside Pallan pointed to a seat at a table, herself sitting directly opposite to him.  The shadows danced with the flickering of the candlelight that illuminated the room.  Within a matter of moments Queen Laye quietly slipped into the room and slowly ambled to a seat at the head of the table.  As she sat she slid the magnificent crown from atop her head into her hands, her eyes cast on the detailed intricacies that adorned the symbol of authority in the kingdom.  Both Pallan and Mornic looked to each other and then back to the queen, unsure of what to say or do.  After a long silence the queen finally spoke.

 

                “How can people be so hateful?” she asked quietly.

 

                Mornic shifted uncomfortably in his seat.  “Your Highness?”

 

                Queen Laye placed her crown on the table.  “No.  Do not call me that here.”

 

                Pallan reached out to take the queen’s hand.  “Laye, we caught him.”

 

                With a tearful, shuddering sigh Queen Laye replied, “But what about next time?”

 

                Mornic started to quietly speak.  “Your High…Que…Laye?”  The queen looked to Mornic with tearful eyes.  He continued to speak when she nodded with a grateful smile, for both the coming comfort and the respect he had shown her just then by addressing her without her title.  “You have been through a great deal of grief.  Many people are out to take advantage of you right now in what they perceive to be a state of weakness.  You have done exceptionally well taking hold of the reigns and leading our people through these last three years.”

 

                Laye’s eyes fixed onto her folded hands resting on the table, gazing into nothingness.  “I…just do not have the strength to continue…”

 

                With a gentle hand on Laye’s shoulder Mornic replied, “Take it day by day.  Someone who spends all their strength focusing on the future does not live the present and eventually regrets the past.”

 

                Pallan smiled and added quietly, “You are not alone.”  She squeezed Laye’s hand gently.

 

                With a smile, Laye thanked her friends.  “I trust you two more than anyone,” she whispered as a tear left her cheek to land on the table.  She took a deep breath to compose herself.  “Notify Thyse, Pallan.  Inform them we agree.”

 

                Mornic blinked with a look of surprise.  “Thyse?  One of the Five Crowns?

 

                Laye looked to Mornic then to Pallan who nodded and began to speak.  “The banquet was for show.  Three months ago a messenger from Thyse came to us suggesting a marriage between Princess Mayla and Prince Darquain.”

 

                “And thus a union of two of the Crowns,” commented Mornic.  “It could considerably alter the balance of power.”

 

                “Which is why we have stalled until now,” replied Laye, her voice trembling.  “But…I am so tired…”

 

                “Two Crowns shall converge into one?” asked Mornic.  “Then the banquet was a show?”

 

                “No,” replied Laye, looking deep in Mornic’s eyes.  “I truly wished for Mayla to choose who she wished to be with.  But…we are besieged on all sides.  The nobles eye the throne greedily and…there are others.”  Laye trailed off as tears began to well up in her eyes again.

 

                “Allying Jalstiria and Thyse, merging them into one Crown will strengthen both.”

 

                “Does Mayla know about this?” asked Mornic.

 

                Laye shook her head.  “No.”

 

                Mornic embraced his Queen tightly.  “Go see your daughter,” he whispered into her ear.

 

                Laye returned his embrace with a smile and stood, placing her crown back onto her head.  She turned and started to dry her eyes as she walked to the door.  Pallan walked closely to her right, offering support by her presence.  After they had left Mornic rose and made his way “home” to prepare for the night’s stay before returning to the Academy the next day.

 

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

 

                Outside of the Palace General Tizmak strode to his carriage hurriedly as his cape fluttered in the wind, a scowl blanketing his face.  His feet stamped hard onto stone walkway, emanating the anger he felt.  The attendant holding the door at his carriage tried hard to avoid the general’s glare, succeeding only because the general’s mind was deep in thought.  He climbed up into the carriage and shut the door himself, waving the attendant away and shouting for the driver to drive on.

 

                Inside the carriage seated in a shadowy corner of the front seat was a wounded Gallen, tending to the swelling on the right side of his face.  “Who was the grass rodent?” he muttered.

 

                General Tizmak glared at Gallen.  “I do not know nor do I care to know,” he stated in his stone cold voice.

 

                Gallen nodded quietly and thought for a moment.  “It was my understanding that failure meant death.  Why am I still alive?”

 

                “You failed, yes,” replied the general with a low grumble as he stared out of the window of the carriage.  “But even though the mission did not succeed the purpose behind it did.”

 

                “And what was that?” asked Gallen.

 

                Tizmak glared at Gallen.  “You will be told only what is necessary to tell you.”

 

                Gallen leaned forward.  “If I risk my life then I want to know why.”

 

                A snarl crawled across Tizmak’s stone firm lips.  “Are you suggesting you are entitled to this information?”

 

                “I think it is a reasonable request,” replied Gallen brazenly.  “Is my life not worth something?”

 

                The general lunged forward from his carriage seat, sliding a dagger from a hidden sheath under his arm and thrust it into Gallen’s neck, stopping just short of severing the spine from the head.  “Your life is worth less than the dirt we are riding across,” he exclaimed as his face hovered a hair’s width away from Gallen’s.  “You are…were an instrument from the beginning and the only reason you lived this long is to make sure that no one found out about our plan.”  Gallen wanted to scream, to call out for help but he could not.  He felt his life draining and knew he was only moments away from death.  “Silence would have earned you your life, demands have cost it.”  The general thrust again, pushing the blade through Gallen’s spine and severing it.  He then pulled away, inverted the dagger in his hand, and jabbed it into Gallen’s left arm.  Tizmak twisted the blade, ripping the flesh wide open.  After the dagger did sufficient damage to the arm the general shoved the would-be assassin out of the carriage.  Gallen fell to the ground, dead before he landed.

 

                General Tizmak cleaned the blade of the dagger and sheathed it.  He thought to himself, “Mayla may be alive but Laye is weakening.  Soon we will be able to strike.”  The carriage drove on as the sun set with General Tizmak in deep thought.

 

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

 

                Back at the palace Mayla sat on her bed, curled up into as tight a ball as she could fit into, hiding in a corner of her room watching the door.  The growing shadows in the room danced hypnotically to the flickering of the candles as the sun continued to set.  She jumped when the door opened, tensing every muscle in her body and came to the edge of crying.  Her breath came faster and more ragged until a familiar voice came from the other side of the door that pushed her over the edge into tears.

 

                “Mayla?” asked her mother.

 

                The frightened princess sat on her bed, unsure if she should trust her senses.  “M…mother?”

 

                The queen slid through the door and smiled softly as she came closer to her daughter, easing herself onto the bed and opening her arms.  “I’m here, my child.”

 

                Mayla flung herself into her mother’s arms and clung tightly to her.  “Sleep tight, safe at night, away from the demons’ sight,” she muttered.  “Nothing to fear, all is well…Safe and free till the morning bell…”

 

                Laye stroked her daughter’s hair.  “He used to sing that to you…”

 

                “Y…yes,” sniffed Mayla.

 

                The queen sat quietly with Mayla, holding her as tight as she could.  “Your father had a way with words,” she whispered.  “I know he always enjoyed singing that rhyme to you.”

 

                Mayla clung tighter.  “How…could they know?”

 

                “Shh…they cannot hurt you now my precious child.”

 

                Mayla wanted to believe her mother, to know that there were not people out there that tried to kill her.  “I…I am so scared,” she cried softly.

 

                The queen eased her daughter back, laying her down.  “Tonight we shall sleep together, my child.  We shall be safe at night, together.”

 

                Mayla smiled up to her mother through tear filled eyes.  “Thank you,” she whispered.

 

                “Get ready for bed now my dear.  I shall return soon.” Queen Laye stood and backed away to the door slowly, her smile comforting Mayla.  The queen slipped back out of the room and looked to Citro and Pallan with a weary face.  “We both shall sleep here tonight.  I will return shortly with my night clothes.”

 

                “Have you told her?” Pallan asked.

 

                Queen Laye stood still for a moment and took a deep breath.  “It is too much for her right now.  Soon, though.  Until then continue with the preparations.  And for now…”  She looked to Mayla’s door.  “I will be here for her.”

 

                Both Pallan and Citro bowed low as the queen started off to her room.  Pallan fell back against the wall and sighed, relaxing for the first time since the assassination attempt.  “If only I had been paying more attention,” she muttered.

 

                Citro arched his eyebrow.  “You cannot live in the past.”  He turned his gaze out of a window a few paces from where they were standing.  “Only learn from it.”

 

                Pallan looked to Citro and then into empty air.  “I suppose.”

 

                “No,” he replied in his gruff, ragged voice.  “If you cannot then it will master you and you will forever second guess yourself.”

 

                “Second guess myself?” thought Pallan.  She was used to making mistakes but she had never dwelled on them before.  She looked to her companion from the corner of her eye.  “You would know best, my friend,” she continued her thought.

 

                Citro turned and started to walk down the corridor.  “I am going to check on the guards posted in this area.”  He paused for a moment to say, “Get some sleep,” before continuing on down the hallway.

 

                “I’ll try, Citro.  I’ll try.”  The irregular rhythm of his footsteps gave Pallan some comfort.  “At least I can rely on you, my friend.”