OCTT: A TALE OF TWO QUEENS - SUMME - CHAPTER THREE (PREVIEW)

Chapter Three

Aabe

The full moon swamped its silvery light over the sleeping trees of Summe forest and with its teasing glow, dispersed memory forged upon a forgotten peace once held over the lands of the north, reminding Aabe of a time in which the young played beneath the starry skies and the old sat around great fires, singing the old songs of Duana and merry-making, their hearts steadfast and their minds without trouble. Long had it been since Aabe’s gaze fell among such happy and spirited times, and long would it be before the island of Summe would find such peace. The world was changing, its fearful heart stirring even the wings of the newly sprung birds, who, instead of dancing upon the northerly winds, kept to their branches in order to seek shelter from the on-coming shadow that swept over the once radiant and plentiful lakes, wistful rivers, white beaches which sparkled with the dust of the moon, gentle rolling hills which once housed the first humans, sacred forests, ancient ancestral monuments and fields of corn, wheat and rice, now all but bare from the yearly famine. In its stead, poverty, clan tension and whispers of growing unrest struck the island like a plague, its wings of corruption spreading wide over the land, holding even the secretive of people to account. Such was the changing of time that the great seerer’s of Nor and Summe were without the power to delve into the future to alert the high priest. They had become blind, the arrows of the on-coming dark power numbing their senses and corrupting their magic.

His mind heavy, Aabe guided his gentle stallion through the suspicious trees, the newly changed hooves coming to a stop before the rushing river of Summe. Keeping himself upon the saddle, his head covered by the hood of his green cloak, Aabe caught sight of the familiar figure of Evalean. She sat quietly upon a log, her body hidden from sight beneath a cloak of silver. To her right sat a lantern and to her left a large jar of moon-moths, their small bodies alight with the rays of silvery moonlight. Close to her, a dozen birds of varying size and shape stood watching over the ethereal Evalean, who had been blessed with the rare magic of the nayan people, who once dwelled among the forests of Taer and Calnuthe. The Nayan’s had a rare and beautiful ability to tap into the minds of animals and were greatly loved by all whose loyalty fell before the feet of mother nature. Evalean’s ability had been a secret between herself and Aabe, a secret which had been forbidden to leave their lips, for fear that she would be hunted and used by the enemy, for not only were her skills so rare, but she possessed the rarest of prizes among humankind, that of two hearts, each baring the mark of a different beat. She was the rarest of jewels, and her light was the greatest secret of them all. Aabe knew the risk he took in bringing Evalean along on the journey ahead, and understood the threat posed to everyone if her secret were uncovered. It struck the young wizard as odd, that her brother, close in age shared not the same gift and was but human, perhaps the magic chose its host, even if the idea was a little hard to swallow. The rare magic brought with it the element of surprise, for her deceased parents had been but poor peasants who had succumbed to the disease of poverty, leaving their children orphaned and on the often-violent streets. Had it been fate that his father, once travelling upon the Queens road to the royal city of Merelle, came across the two impoverished siblings? Or had it been simply the winds of coincidence?

His eyes upon the solemn figure of Evalean, Aabe swung his legs over his stallion and felt his booted feet fall upon the sandy beach, the hem of his cloak dancing about his ankles. How different were the two siblings, now separated by war and destiny. Here before him sat the quiet, the patient and the beautiful Evalean whose body fell ill when touched by darkness. She was unalike her brother, who grew strong, proud and greedy for revenge, position and authority. Aabe understood Morad’s plight in life and thus such understanding produced conscious ignorance of his newly deprived behaviour. He was not evil, he was not only spurred on by dark deeds, he was merely misunderstood and suffered from a case of miss-identity, which was not unusual in a man of his young years. And so, despite the whisperings of betrayal, Aabe and his father had placed loyalty and friendship at the feet of Morad, in hope that he would repay such reverent loyalty with stout allegiance and fealty to Summe. Lifting back his hood and revealing himself, Aabe slowing made his way towards the unmoving Evalean.

“You should be resting.”

Aabe came to stand before the solemn Evalean, who raised her beautiful eyes to his face, her thick brows lifting in surprise.

“Aabe what are you doing here?” Evalean announced with an anxious smile as she lifted herself up from the log and came to stand before Aabe. Looking down into her delicate and pixy like face, Aabe felt himself moved by her naive innocence. She wore a dress of silver velva beneath her cloak, simply cut and without detail, but for the silver belt about her small waist. Upon her head, she wore a small crown of silver leaves, bestowed upon her during her coming of age ceremony, two moons ago. She was the fairest in the land, an opinion not only held by Aabe but by many who laid theirs eyes upon Evalean. She was unlike Maethilda, whose taerian beauty beheld the strength and courage of her mother. Evalean’s strength, courage and stout heart remedied themselves in her constant acts of kindness, mild display of shyness and unreserved love for even the darkest of hearts. She bore a similar likeness to those of Nayan descendant and often reminded Aabe of the soft furelli flowers which grew beneath the beautiful daish trees throughout the high seasons. She was a rare jewel, a jewel with such a divine glow that her light transfixed his troubled soul and often left him yearning for more of her gentle presence. Aabe had noticed of course, the affect her beauty- both physically and spiritually had upon those who found themselves in her presence. She often left her friends and those looking on, somewhat drunk and without balance. It was said among historians of the south that the Nayan people had the power to bring together enemies, their powers of love, peace and temperance having considerable affect upon those under their gaze.

“I have always been at your side when releasing the moon-moths into the night sky, have I not?”

“Indeed,” Evalean returned with a burst of crimson upon her ivory cheeks. “Forgive me Aabe, I had completely forgotten.”

“There is nothing to forgive,” Aabe answered bluntly, his gaze spotting the buds of tears which threatened to cast their sorrow upon his loves cheeks. “If cannot blame you for lost thoughts, as I find myself suffering from the same illness.”

“You do?” Evalean asked sweetly, her wide eyes drawing him in warmly. Aabe, often distant towards others and rightly presumed rigid, found himself in the familiar position of melting. No one else could claim such a power of him, for to be a wizard and to have a sight far deeper and wider than those around you, brought with it a terrible burden and pain, a pain no-one but his father understood. And yet, the young, naive yet strong woman before him had the power to soothe his aches and pains and to soften his judgement on others.

“Our dear friend perished this night, before our very eyes,” Aabe returned quietly, the tips of his long fingers finding her own, a custom often sought for in times of anxiety or need. “To burn her under the fading stars will leave a terrible mark upon those who loved her. She was fierce, strong and courageous, especially in the face of tribulation, much of which she was forced to endure, in a world where the will of women is so often set aside. To burn her so young before the buds of the coming year, is both grievous and bitter. She had such grand ideas and notions, especially directed towards the area of peace and prosperity. She was a bright star amid a gloom-ridden sky. Her loyalty and devotion shall not be easily forgotten.”

“How I envied her,” Evalean whispered, her words laced with foreboding and sorrow. With a soft sob, the young picket turned from her friend and lover and walked towards the shores of the river, her bare feet touching the icy waters which had flowed down from the Meerin Hills. Aabe stood still, his eyes unable to stray from his friend, her silver hood falling away from her head to reveal her short locks of dark hair. “She was fire and I…I am but the soft breeze upon a suma’s day. In the face of uncertainty, she stood tall, like a formidable Barrin tree, but I?” Evalean turned her tear stained eyes to Aabe. “I am governed by an instinct which tells me to flee in the face of uncertainty and war.”

“That isn’t true Evalean,” Aabe muttered against a harsh gust of wind which swept over the dithering trees, their branches all but bare. Her tresses gleaming against the moonlight, Evalean shook her head with feeling.

“It is Aabe,” she said with disgust. “I am surrounded by great women, who fear little and share much in common with one another. I have nothing in common with them, nothing but my sex and drive for justice. I…I shared more with your sister. I…I” she stopped a moment, pressing a hand to her bosom with pain. Aabe watched her moon-lit face, the few lines which dwelled upon her soft features, creasing with frustration. “I am frightened of letting them down. I am frightened of dying without honour.”

“Strength reveals itself in various forms Evalean,” Aabe said with molten fire surging through his cold body. With two strides, he came to stand before her, his boots submerged within the murky waters. Taking her cold hands within his own, he summoned her gaze to meet with his and bequeathed upon her a soft smile, ridden with unspoken feeling. “Who else can summon the birds to them or understand their morning song? You believe that to be kind, soft and without a need for violence weakness?”

“No…to speak with the birds, to play with the squirrels, gives my heart much pleasure,” Evalean exclaimed through her tears. “But I am afraid of battle, I am afraid of the pain that I know stands perilously close to me. I wish to live among the woods where I am useful, where I am understood. I do not wish to live among the plains of blood and death. I am quiet, reserved and deftly named the tame. The gentle world into which your father brought me is now distant and without breath. And my brother…his heart grows cold and distant with every clash of his sword. How can I be of use to anyone when I do not feel I have any use for myself?”

“You are overwhelmed Evalean” Aabe said with kindness marked in his eyes. He held her hands gently within his own and observed her conflicted mind with sorrow. “Do not mistake such a feeling for a belief that you are of no use to your friends, you are of greater use to those around you than you deem, and that my love is the greatest gift of all.”

“To have but two hearts yet no strength of conviction or magic with which to aid the war and Queen?”

Aabe’s brows aligned themselves as her words fell from her red lips, her eyelids closing over her distraught gaze.

“To love is not a weakness Evalean, it is the greatest of weapons so easily cast aside in war,” Aabe said with sombre realisation. “Many a man begins such a journey with devout hope in love and peace, and all too often falls into the pit of war and despair, his heart hardened by the blade and darkened by the wound. How rare is it to have not one but two hearts of pure love, how great is the weapon you bare. For when all fades with the setting sun of tomorrow, it will not be the blood of man that seeps into the fields of battle, but it shall be the ever-flowing love which casts its power over death.”

“You truly believe that love can conquer death?” Evalean asked with ardent eyes. The current about their feet strengthened as they drew close to one another, their hidden feelings revealed beneath the suspicious moon.

“It is the greatest of powers and shall be needed in the coming months,” Aabe answered plainly, drawing a hand to her cheek and skimming her cool skin lightly with the back of his palm. “You are the fairest of maids, but such purity shall feel the hand of darkness deeply, like a jagged blade cutting deep into the light. That will be your test Evalean, a test I doubt many others around you could face and conquer.”

“And if I fail?” Evalean whispered as she tipped her face upwards, the end of her nose meeting his own.

“You shall not fail,” Aabe said with feeling as he cupped her face and drowned his eyes in her beauty.

“You must save him Aabe,” Evalean exclaimed darkly as she splayed a hand over his beating heart, her eyes pleading. “You must save Morad from the fate I fear will take him.  I know he seeks power and I know that he will go to any lengths to obtain it, even if his motives are fed by a need to save and protect the kingdom. He has always been governed by his heart and tormented by his head. A war as deadly as this, only seeks to bring the worms to the surface. But worms become prey to the birds which swoop down to devour their prey.”

“I cannot bend fate Evalean, no matter its wicked intentions,” Aabe said, with a gaze tainted by reality and marred by destiny. “But I shall do my best to protect him and counsel him in times of trouble.”

“That is all that I ask,” Evalean whispered, her words fading away as their lips met. Aabe felt her power sweep over him like a warm flow of water and held her protectively within his arms. When finally, they drew away from one another, Evalean brought her head to his chest and drew in a sigh. “We should return before the sun rises and your father suspects.”

*

© Iseult O'Shea and OneCrown&TwoThrones, 2017. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this site’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Iseult O'Shea and OneCrown&TwoThrones with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.