Search for the Successor
In a far away land stood an ancient and noble city. Built for the people by their valiant King who, like each King before him, defended the beautiful lands and mountains in which they dwelt with honour and love.
But, stand no more does this celestial city, for it fell into ruin by greed and hate. Greed was the name of the cold and merciless Lord who rivaled with the peaceful city and hate was the power of his sword. Lord Sharnrew coveted rein over all the lands and not just the wasteland to which he was condemned. His hate festered in his evil mind as so did his power and time was drawing near for its unleashing.
The King Markden was as watchful of his allies as he was his enemies and the Lord was not shy to hide his despise for the King or his fair people, of which he found delight to pillage and slaughter. So Markden grew more ever so wary of his tidings, the whispers of war were in the winds.
However, this war was to be a different kind. Not with bloody battles and carnage, or pillage or fire, for though the power of Sharnrew was great, the King's was far greater. No, to strike at the Kings only weakness was Sharnrew's plan; to destroy the King Markden's lineage and poison the city walls from the inside out.
The King had one child born from his graceful Queen, a son, but then a few months young. The city was distraught when news from the heralds reached their homely ears that the King and Queen had been murdered and the only heir to the throne, strangled in its chambers.
In a great assembly of nobles and advisers, Lord Sharnrew declared himself New King of the fallen city, as no heir could be found. The nobles and advisers looked on in disgust and fear for they could do nothing but watch from the dungeons as Sharnrew placed their once beloved Kings crown on his head.
A band of the Lords soldiers stormed into the assembly with a clamor of heavy armor and took all of the Kings nobles and advisers in arrest, replacing them with their own. Through all the chaos and bloodied swords, swiftly moved one of Markden's Advisers under the dark shadows of the kingdom walls unseen. The Adviser, Laydas, possessed such secrets that could deliver the menacing Lord to ruins door. For the Lord Sharnrew had been deceived, there was an heir who had the lineage of successor to his throne.
Laydas could feel the burden of secrets that should not have been kept, growing heavier on his brow with every step he took away from the conquered city.
**********
Nights passed into days as Laydas traveled towards a small village on the outer-borders of the city, where the morning sun rose high and clear on its golden fields. Tidings of grievous events had not yet found its way to the waking village as he stumbled onto the road and collapsed with a gasp of weakness. Summoning every last hint of strength left in his tiring body, he rose but fell again.
A youthful woman, working in a nearby field heard through the swaying crop a long, agonizing groan of pain and was startled. Raising her scythe, she followed the sound to the road, where she found a young man sprawled in the dirt and recognized the Kings insignia he wore on his cloak. Isle dropped her scythe and knelt at his side, aiding him to his feet.
The Adviser lifted his weary eyes and looked upon the gentle features of the woman as she wrapped her slender arm around his waist. Laydas placed his hands on her shoulders and smiled as her deep brown eyes met his.
Isle looked worryingly at the Adviser as he clasped at his side in a grimace of pain and a raised hand kept her silence. "Come." Laydas whispered, waving his arm in the direction of a stable close by to the road," It is not safe out here."
When they had rushed inside to the back of its dusty walls, Laydas hid the woman behind a hay laden cart and went back to heave the thick doors shut. Isle peered over the edge and jumped at the clang of the doors slamming together. "I don't understand." she whispered, "Are you in danger?" "Do you still keep the ring your mother gave you before she died?" Her replied hoarsely, seizing her by the wrist. "Y-yes," she stammered," I keep it on a chain around my neck, but how do you know...." The Adviser sighed with relief cutting her off, but his face remained stern as he released her hand. "Listen to me well now for this I must never repeat." Laydas began, "The King is dead and you are now the heir to his throne, never take off or lose this ring or peace shall never be seen again in this kingdom!" Isle stood back aghast and in disbelief as tears swelled to her eyes.
The moment before she died, her mother gave her a ring with the Kings insignia on it, saying that it belonged to her father, Markden. Even then a small child, she took the ring thinking that it was just a token from the years she had spent in service at the castle and that the fever had finally taken hold of her mother.
"So it is true? The King was my father?" Laydas nodded, and felt for her loss, "Yes it is true. But first things first," he continued," you must get away from here!" Suddenly a horse whinnied and stamped in its stable, something terrible was on its way. They looked at each other but only Laydas could have known what was to come next.
"The King is dead! The King is dead!" screamed a messenger as he ran blindly into the village, grasping at the arrow in his side. "The King is -!" The messenger fell limply to the ground, drawing his last breath as a second arrow plunged into his back.
"People of the village," rang out a voice cold and clear," bow to your new king or watch your houses burn!" Behind the fallen body of the messenger, sat all upon horseback, a score of Lord Sharnrew's soldiers led by greed and hate, the New King himself. With arm raised and sword unsheathed, he glowered upon the faces of the Villagers, but none dared to move. A scowl spread across his face as the silence staled. "Foolish cowards!" the New King whispered under his breath, his steed jolted harshly. "Burn it all!" he ordered turning his back to the Villagers, "Burn it 'till there's nothing left but bones and ashes!" The Villagers screamed and fled the cold steel of swords that pierced their flesh as their homes and fields were set ablaze.
Isle fell to her knees and wept openly, as she watched everything that she had ever known be destroyed through the weathered cracks of the stable walls. "There's nothing you can do for them now!" whispered Laydas pulling her to her feet, "We must leave now or we may not make it back at all!" "Where are we to go? Even if we do make past those soldiers." "Back to the city. Only there can you restore peace and goodness to our kingdom before the New King has settled on his stolen throne."
Voices rose above the clamor from outside the safety of the stable walls. "Search that stable before you destroy it!" roared the New King as a group of his soldiers approached the stable with blazing torches in hand.
Fear surged into the Islai's heart as Laydas brushed her aside, looking around for a way out. "There is no other way out," cried Isle hopelessly. Laydas ignored her cries as he saddled up the nearest horse. "Get on the horse!" he ordered. Isle did not argue. Laydas pressed against the stable doors and peered through the cracks, the soldiers were not far away. "On my word," he said turning to run back to Isle astride the horse. "Go!" he yelled, managing to grab hold of the saddle, when the horse suddenly lurched forward as the soldiers burst through the stable doors with a thunderous yell.
As the doors were thrown back, from the dark innards sprung a horse bearing a skilled rider and another upon its flank. The Soldiers were strewn hard upon the earth as the riders fled with such great speed and fear, that they disappeared from even the keenest of sight.
"Don't let them get away!" bellowed the Captain, directing his sword at their backs. "What is going on here?" demanded the Lord Sharnrew as he rode toward the commotion. One of the soldiers spoke up, "When we opened the doors of the stable, they sprang at us and." "Who is 'they'?" "There were two of them, Sire, but I don't know who." "Then you shall pay for your negligence," the New King drew his sword, slicing the soldiers' head from his shoulders. "Sire, I believe one of the riders bore the old Kings insignia on his cloak and they may be heading in the direction of the city," the Captain spluttered. "You had better believe it Captain," scowled Sharnrew as he wiped the warm blood from his sword, "because if not." The Captain suddenly found himself face to face with the tip of a sword, nodding pleadingly. Sharnrew smiled, which quickly turned into a leer. "What are you standing around for? Get after them!" Soldiers that were standing motionless, as if they had been hypnotized by the voice of the Lord were jolted into action and soon all had abandoned the torched village in a cloud of smoke and bloodied dust.
**********
Isle grasped the reins in one hand and stroked the horse with the other, as she waited for Laydas to return. They had turned off the road and hidden in the forest to escape from the New King and his soldiers as they rode past unsuspecting, but now they were lost. Laydas had left the Woman as he scouted for a safe path back to the city. However, she now feared the worse. "If I have not returned when the Sun reaches this spot," he had said, marking the ground with his foot," you are to get on that horse and find a way to the city on your own. There is no turning back, understand?"
"It is now that time" the Isle told herself, staring longingly at the Sun. As she mounted the horse, a twig snapped a small distance behind her. Jumping quick and low to the ground, she scooped up a broken branch. It was now the only weapon she had to protect herself and she knew she stood no chance. "There is no safe way back now." He said as he landed sight of defenseless Isle.
The Woman sighed with a smile of relief as the Laydas stepped out from the disguise of bushes and allowed the branch to fall from her hands. "There are soldiers scattered everywhere in sight, so it is only best if we ride at night when most of them are resting." Laydas explained as he mounted the horse. Taking his offered hand to aid her, she mounted the horse behind him and once again felt safe with his presence near. "Then we'll need a place to hide until night falls," Isle yelled into the Laydas's ear as they galloped towards awaiting danger. He simply nodded and urged the horse onwards.
**********
Mid-day Sun filtered through ancient trees as a dazzling web of light glistened upon the forest floor. Laydas and Isle dismounted the tiring beast and leaves crackled under their feet as they touched the soft ground. A great Oak stood proudly in the heart of a small clearing, with strong branches that welcomed, and delicate leaves that seemed to wave silent wishes to the weary travelers. "We will stay here until night falls," said Laydas gazing at the beauty that surrounded them.
Isle took the horse and hid it a small distance from the great Oak so they would not be given away to misfortune. As she tied the reins to a low branch, Isle noticed a blade of wheat caught in the stirrups. Taking it in her hand, she yearned to be back in her village, working in its peaceful fields. The wheat fell from her hand as images haunted her thoughts, people she knew and loved being slaughtered, as she stood doing nothing. Nothing to stop them.
Isle felt searing tears burn her cheeks as she picked up the wheat again, clenching her past tightly in her fist. She had to be strong and could cry no more, for now she was successor to the throne.
In a far away land stood an ancient and noble city. Built for the people by their valiant King who, like each King before him, defended the beautiful lands and mountains in which they dwelt with honour and love.
But, stand no more does this celestial city, for it fell into ruin by greed and hate. Greed was the name of the cold and merciless Lord who rivaled with the peaceful city and hate was the power of his sword. Lord Sharnrew coveted rein over all the lands and not just the wasteland to which he was condemned. His hate festered in his evil mind as so did his power and time was drawing near for its unleashing.
The King Markden was as watchful of his allies as he was his enemies and the Lord was not shy to hide his despise for the King or his fair people, of which he found delight to pillage and slaughter. So Markden grew more ever so wary of his tidings, the whispers of war were in the winds.
However, this war was to be a different kind. Not with bloody battles and carnage, or pillage or fire, for though the power of Sharnrew was great, the King's was far greater. No, to strike at the Kings only weakness was Sharnrew's plan; to destroy the King Markden's lineage and poison the city walls from the inside out.
The King had one child born from his graceful Queen, a son, but then a few months young. The city was distraught when news from the heralds reached their homely ears that the King and Queen had been murdered and the only heir to the throne, strangled in its chambers.
In a great assembly of nobles and advisers, Lord Sharnrew declared himself New King of the fallen city, as no heir could be found. The nobles and advisers looked on in disgust and fear for they could do nothing but watch from the dungeons as Sharnrew placed their once beloved Kings crown on his head.
A band of the Lords soldiers stormed into the assembly with a clamor of heavy armor and took all of the Kings nobles and advisers in arrest, replacing them with their own. Through all the chaos and bloodied swords, swiftly moved one of Markden's Advisers under the dark shadows of the kingdom walls unseen. The Adviser, Laydas, possessed such secrets that could deliver the menacing Lord to ruins door. For the Lord Sharnrew had been deceived, there was an heir who had the lineage of successor to his throne.
Laydas could feel the burden of secrets that should not have been kept, growing heavier on his brow with every step he took away from the conquered city.
**********
Nights passed into days as Laydas traveled towards a small village on the outer-borders of the city, where the morning sun rose high and clear on its golden fields. Tidings of grievous events had not yet found its way to the waking village as he stumbled onto the road and collapsed with a gasp of weakness. Summoning every last hint of strength left in his tiring body, he rose but fell again.
A youthful woman, working in a nearby field heard through the swaying crop a long, agonizing groan of pain and was startled. Raising her scythe, she followed the sound to the road, where she found a young man sprawled in the dirt and recognized the Kings insignia he wore on his cloak. Isle dropped her scythe and knelt at his side, aiding him to his feet.
The Adviser lifted his weary eyes and looked upon the gentle features of the woman as she wrapped her slender arm around his waist. Laydas placed his hands on her shoulders and smiled as her deep brown eyes met his.
Isle looked worryingly at the Adviser as he clasped at his side in a grimace of pain and a raised hand kept her silence. "Come." Laydas whispered, waving his arm in the direction of a stable close by to the road," It is not safe out here."
When they had rushed inside to the back of its dusty walls, Laydas hid the woman behind a hay laden cart and went back to heave the thick doors shut. Isle peered over the edge and jumped at the clang of the doors slamming together. "I don't understand." she whispered, "Are you in danger?" "Do you still keep the ring your mother gave you before she died?" Her replied hoarsely, seizing her by the wrist. "Y-yes," she stammered," I keep it on a chain around my neck, but how do you know...." The Adviser sighed with relief cutting her off, but his face remained stern as he released her hand. "Listen to me well now for this I must never repeat." Laydas began, "The King is dead and you are now the heir to his throne, never take off or lose this ring or peace shall never be seen again in this kingdom!" Isle stood back aghast and in disbelief as tears swelled to her eyes.
The moment before she died, her mother gave her a ring with the Kings insignia on it, saying that it belonged to her father, Markden. Even then a small child, she took the ring thinking that it was just a token from the years she had spent in service at the castle and that the fever had finally taken hold of her mother.
"So it is true? The King was my father?" Laydas nodded, and felt for her loss, "Yes it is true. But first things first," he continued," you must get away from here!" Suddenly a horse whinnied and stamped in its stable, something terrible was on its way. They looked at each other but only Laydas could have known what was to come next.
"The King is dead! The King is dead!" screamed a messenger as he ran blindly into the village, grasping at the arrow in his side. "The King is -!" The messenger fell limply to the ground, drawing his last breath as a second arrow plunged into his back.
"People of the village," rang out a voice cold and clear," bow to your new king or watch your houses burn!" Behind the fallen body of the messenger, sat all upon horseback, a score of Lord Sharnrew's soldiers led by greed and hate, the New King himself. With arm raised and sword unsheathed, he glowered upon the faces of the Villagers, but none dared to move. A scowl spread across his face as the silence staled. "Foolish cowards!" the New King whispered under his breath, his steed jolted harshly. "Burn it all!" he ordered turning his back to the Villagers, "Burn it 'till there's nothing left but bones and ashes!" The Villagers screamed and fled the cold steel of swords that pierced their flesh as their homes and fields were set ablaze.
Isle fell to her knees and wept openly, as she watched everything that she had ever known be destroyed through the weathered cracks of the stable walls. "There's nothing you can do for them now!" whispered Laydas pulling her to her feet, "We must leave now or we may not make it back at all!" "Where are we to go? Even if we do make past those soldiers." "Back to the city. Only there can you restore peace and goodness to our kingdom before the New King has settled on his stolen throne."
Voices rose above the clamor from outside the safety of the stable walls. "Search that stable before you destroy it!" roared the New King as a group of his soldiers approached the stable with blazing torches in hand.
Fear surged into the Islai's heart as Laydas brushed her aside, looking around for a way out. "There is no other way out," cried Isle hopelessly. Laydas ignored her cries as he saddled up the nearest horse. "Get on the horse!" he ordered. Isle did not argue. Laydas pressed against the stable doors and peered through the cracks, the soldiers were not far away. "On my word," he said turning to run back to Isle astride the horse. "Go!" he yelled, managing to grab hold of the saddle, when the horse suddenly lurched forward as the soldiers burst through the stable doors with a thunderous yell.
As the doors were thrown back, from the dark innards sprung a horse bearing a skilled rider and another upon its flank. The Soldiers were strewn hard upon the earth as the riders fled with such great speed and fear, that they disappeared from even the keenest of sight.
"Don't let them get away!" bellowed the Captain, directing his sword at their backs. "What is going on here?" demanded the Lord Sharnrew as he rode toward the commotion. One of the soldiers spoke up, "When we opened the doors of the stable, they sprang at us and." "Who is 'they'?" "There were two of them, Sire, but I don't know who." "Then you shall pay for your negligence," the New King drew his sword, slicing the soldiers' head from his shoulders. "Sire, I believe one of the riders bore the old Kings insignia on his cloak and they may be heading in the direction of the city," the Captain spluttered. "You had better believe it Captain," scowled Sharnrew as he wiped the warm blood from his sword, "because if not." The Captain suddenly found himself face to face with the tip of a sword, nodding pleadingly. Sharnrew smiled, which quickly turned into a leer. "What are you standing around for? Get after them!" Soldiers that were standing motionless, as if they had been hypnotized by the voice of the Lord were jolted into action and soon all had abandoned the torched village in a cloud of smoke and bloodied dust.
**********
Isle grasped the reins in one hand and stroked the horse with the other, as she waited for Laydas to return. They had turned off the road and hidden in the forest to escape from the New King and his soldiers as they rode past unsuspecting, but now they were lost. Laydas had left the Woman as he scouted for a safe path back to the city. However, she now feared the worse. "If I have not returned when the Sun reaches this spot," he had said, marking the ground with his foot," you are to get on that horse and find a way to the city on your own. There is no turning back, understand?"
"It is now that time" the Isle told herself, staring longingly at the Sun. As she mounted the horse, a twig snapped a small distance behind her. Jumping quick and low to the ground, she scooped up a broken branch. It was now the only weapon she had to protect herself and she knew she stood no chance. "There is no safe way back now." He said as he landed sight of defenseless Isle.
The Woman sighed with a smile of relief as the Laydas stepped out from the disguise of bushes and allowed the branch to fall from her hands. "There are soldiers scattered everywhere in sight, so it is only best if we ride at night when most of them are resting." Laydas explained as he mounted the horse. Taking his offered hand to aid her, she mounted the horse behind him and once again felt safe with his presence near. "Then we'll need a place to hide until night falls," Isle yelled into the Laydas's ear as they galloped towards awaiting danger. He simply nodded and urged the horse onwards.
**********
Mid-day Sun filtered through ancient trees as a dazzling web of light glistened upon the forest floor. Laydas and Isle dismounted the tiring beast and leaves crackled under their feet as they touched the soft ground. A great Oak stood proudly in the heart of a small clearing, with strong branches that welcomed, and delicate leaves that seemed to wave silent wishes to the weary travelers. "We will stay here until night falls," said Laydas gazing at the beauty that surrounded them.
Isle took the horse and hid it a small distance from the great Oak so they would not be given away to misfortune. As she tied the reins to a low branch, Isle noticed a blade of wheat caught in the stirrups. Taking it in her hand, she yearned to be back in her village, working in its peaceful fields. The wheat fell from her hand as images haunted her thoughts, people she knew and loved being slaughtered, as she stood doing nothing. Nothing to stop them.
Isle felt searing tears burn her cheeks as she picked up the wheat again, clenching her past tightly in her fist. She had to be strong and could cry no more, for now she was successor to the throne.