OCTT - A TALE OF TWO QUEENS : SUMME - CHAPTER SEVEN - ANVIN (Copyrighted content)

Chapter Seven

Anvin

The hall, warm from the heat of the great hearths which burned brightly, their flames licking at the faces of those merry and drowning in the sour laman which flowed liberally from the clay jars, bobbing above the heads of noble men and warriors. Before the throne, the gentle women of the south, their raven hair free and moving in mellow waves about their long frames, danced beneath the flickering flames of the great beacons which filled the ancient hall of Kings. His hands upon the arms of his chair, Anvin watched the men and women before him, their eyes flashing with an emotion begotten of joy. Beside him, the just and kind Lord sat in silence, his eyes unwavering and his lips set, much like his astute character. He had been blessed with his mothers looks and once kind heart. Yet unalike his mother, Elion understood deeply the nature of man and was, despite his strength of character, a pensive soul. He understood the cost born by the coolness of the blade and the weight brought down upon a man, should the blunt axe meet with his neck. He was much like his uncle in temperament and wisdom and thus it was for this reason and this reason alone that Anvin had spared his mother. That and the inherent failure of man, to deny the beauty and seductive charms of the opposite sex. She had been the most beautiful woman in the lands before the fall of Unyae, and many a man had killed in her honour, just so that he may kneel before her, the memory of her beauty forever engrained within his soul. Such had been the power of Lady Moruaina the faceless.

“I remember well when I was but a boy, you sitting as you are beside my father, both deep in discussion,” Elion spoke sharply, his eyes turning to the allusive Anvin, his back bent in pain. “I would hide behind the pillar yonder, and urge myself to stay awake amid the calling of slumber.” He turned and pointed a finger to the pillar yonder, which stood close to the throne, a smile upon his face, the memory clearly thrilling him.

“I remember your pensive eyes, Elion, son of Aforth the bold,” Anvin remarked regally, his fingers tightening about the dark wood, engraved with long and winding branches. His gown sodding and his heavy boots stained with mud, Anvin turned his own eyes towards the young Lord. “You are withdrawn my Lord; may I ask why?”

“I sent out a group of rangers to scout the lands some days ago, they have not returned, and I grow anxious with every growing hour that descends upon us,” Elion admitted, his fair brows furrowed beneath a lock of his golden hair. He was a beautiful man, and much like his mother before him, he transfixed the young women of the court. Anvin felt it strange that the young and victorious Lord seemed unaffected by such a power as that of beauty. Instead he spent much of his time in seclusion, his mind focused on the needs of his people. As a young boy upon the cusp of adulthood, Anvin had often found the shy and somewhat reserved boy among the priests, his head buried in the ancient texts of his uncles Kingdom. He was well read and well educated, and took his responsibilities very seriously, if not too seriously, for he never had time for the jovious acts of mankind, but merely looked upon such scenes in terrible consideration for their meaning. His childhood had been uneven and smeared by his parents often toxic marriage, and their inability to see beyond the tips of their own noses. A lonely child, Elion had grown up under the care of Naithian priests and sharing in their love of history, society and philosophy, Elion had escaped the fate of many a wronged child and had instead used his anger to carve out a path of his own making, in servitude of his people.

“The land is crawling with spies my Lord, and now that Heidan marches upon you, you should keep your men within these walls, for the land of our forefathers is soon to turn,” Anvin counselled Elion, his long silvery tresses falling across his arms gently. “You must prepare for battle Elion, and your people must be protected. Send the crow to scour the land for the sky takes no sides in war and the crow can shield itself behind the brooding clouds.”

“The city is safe my Lord, our people are safe,” Elion returned forcefully, his eyes now in search for his cousin.

“You have a weapon far stronger than any the enemy might wield my Lord,” Anvin said darkly, aware that the gallant and brace soldiers who lined the walls of the great hall, all now had their eyes upon the great wizard of the north. Many clearly intrigued and a few in fear of the priest who had brought to life a terrible monster. “Your mothers vision spreads far and wide, let her scour the lands on behalf of your rangers.”

Slowly, his brow glazed in a fine sweat, Elion turned to the wizard and looked upon him hard. Around his long neck he wore a circular necklace of gold, upon it glistening three fine emeralds. His shoulders broad and his Adams apple protruding in defiance, Elion leaned down towards the priest. Anvin felt the young man’s intense glare burn him, his blue eyes burning with a warning. Sparks of ember sprung from his enlarged pupils. He understood the wound he had inflicted upon Elion long ago and understood further that his greatest regret may still wield the power of defeat.

“My mother speaks only in riddles wizard,” Elion began darkly, his own hands delving deep into the unforgiving wood of his throne. “One learns never to attach words to the tongue of a snake, as well you know.”

“Then why do you keep her close?” Anvin asked in curiosity. “Why do you not banish her to the caves under the mountains, where she can bring no harm to our people.”

“You forget that she is my mother,” Elion hissed quietly, his eyes unblinking despite the darkening of the hall. “My conscience would never justify such a cruel fate, not when her fate in life has already been so unkind. Those who professed to love my mother, left her long ago and betrayed her. I am no such man my Lord Anvin. My fate is tied to her own. Where she walks, I shall follow.”

“Then I must warn you my Lord, that you walk down a path of uncertainty, a path destined to lead you to your own doom,” Anvin whispered gently, his eyes urging the young man to take him seriously. His reaction cold and aloft, Elion sat away from the wizard and let out a sarcastic laugh.

“You moulded my mother into the woman she has become wizard, and now you tell me that I must bind her to the dark caves under the mountains? That I walk along a path destined for doom?” Elion returned slowly, his words laced with rage. “If she is so dangerous, then why did you give her such power?”

“She tricked me my Lord, she made me believe that she was the White Queen,” Anvin said in anguish, his memory rushing back to that night. “Little did I know that she had been slain by Lady Moruaina, slain out of jealousy for a crime she did not commit.”

“Sheloth stood between my parents Anvin, my mothers jealousy was justified,” Elion said carefully, his darkened gaze softening under Anvin’s anxious glare. “Had she kept her distance, then perhaps my mother would have kept hers.”

“Your mother was the victim of jealousy and scorn, that is why your father burned her eyes and took away her vision. Sheloth fought to protect Moruaina, despite the festering strive between them and still she was slain, the mother protector of this land” Anvin argued hotly. “The oldest priestess among our people, a woman who would have been of significant use in these dark times. Your mothers darkening ambitions may have been initiated by the madness of your father, but long had they lain dormant. She was overly ambitious and inherently jealous of her brother, King Elieor. Had she learned to love those around her instead of her own beauty, had she embraced the tones of compassion and kindness laced within her complicated character, she would have looked upon the face of life and found peace. Instead she seeks to punish all those who are unchanged by her beauty.”

“It is true that my father suffered from bouts of madness and in his madness, did many suffer, but he was for the most part a good and noble man,” Elion declared with impatience. “He fought to keep the Kingdom of Calnuthe stable, and in doing so gave up his own life so that the people of Ethe would remain safe. He remained loyal to my House, as do I.”

“And his actions have cast their shadow over his family and people,” Anvin warned. “Sheloth did not share in his love for her, she was afraid that his obsession would prove fatal in the end and it seems she was right. Your mother knew that she was without blame, yet saw a opportunity to further her own ambitions, grand as they were, terrifying as they are. She killed an ancient soul, perfect and without taint.” Anvin caught Elion’s sleeve. “She tricked me my Lord, I did not give your mother the vision of the chosen out of choice.”

“And yet the irony is that you my Lord, you were blind. Such a power you wield and, yet your own eyes refused to see what lay so plainly before them.”

“When we place our trust in those we are loyal too, it is inevitable that our vision should fail, is that not the symptom of friendship and loyalty?” Anvin quizzed the young man, whose cheeks flushed with mixed emotions. Anvin released his hand from Elion and sat up straight, assuming authority. “How do you know for certain that your mother’s love is true?”

“The madness of my parents cannot be brushed aside, and I do not deny that my father’s bouts of madness led to many a terrible reaction. But it is by your hand that my mother now wields a power equal to your own. And it is her love for me that prevents her from crushing the remains of a once peaceful nation into the ashes of the abyss.” Elion moved about uncomfortably in his throne, clearly unsettled by the conversation. “ She wasn’t always hungry for revenge, and in truth friend, I sympathise with her anger. Women are moulded by the hands of men, and many hands that tend to a woman are not always enshrined with love or kindness. On the battlefield, my father was ambitious, loyal and strong. But behind closed doors, he was mad, cunning and without mercy. It is my duty to prove to my mother, that we are not alike and that I am not my father’s son.” Elion ran his fingers through his thick locks, his lips dry, and his brows furrowed deeply, in obvious contemplation. “Perhaps you are right, perhaps I am a pawn in her game. It may be that she would happily sacrifice my life in order to further her own ambitions. But I refuse to bow down to her assumptions and beliefs, and I refuse to lower myself to that of my father. Strength is not only sought in the blade or indeed the crown, it runs deeper. A man should not believe himself to only be shaped by the silhouette of a warrior, he should always love and respect his mother. It is not weakness to love the un-lovable, it is a sign of man’s strength to love those who despise him. My father believed that victory could only be sought with a sword in hand, little did he rely upon diplomacy and little faith did he have in the hope that his enemy may become his ally. I choose to think differently, I choose to live beyond the means of a sword and it is my mission to inspire my men to follow suite. A peaceful world is still within grasp Anvin, if hope remained not, then why do our enemies still shake?”

“I knew many years ago young Elion that you would prove yourself worthy, and despite our differences, I am most glad to have watched you grow into the man you are today. Celestine will need you in the future, and my fear is that the love you have for your mother, will lead to the separation between you and your cousin.”

Elion sat back a while and placed a frim hand upon his chin. He felt the eyes of the ageing wizard upon him, and closed his eyes.

“The test before my mother is yet to arise Anvin,” he said quietly, his merry courtiers singing loudly. “If she should fail, if she should seek to bring about harm to my dear cousin, then I swear to you that my allegiance shall always be to my House.” Opening his eyes, he turned to the wizard and simply bowed his head. “But should Celestine wish to kill my mother, then I am afraid that I shall draw my sword. I cannot turn away from her, even if she denies me. Whatever love remains between myself and my mother, it is that bond which keeps her from fulfilling any dark intentions, but should that bond break then the fear you hold so dearly may yet make itself known. And if ever such a day should come my Lord, then you and your enemies shall weep. For a woman scorned is a woman thorned.”

Anvin listened carefully to the prophetic words spoken by Elion and felt his rigid hands soften in response. The young man was a breath of fresh air, he had a rationale mind and was not guided by bloodlust, but a sincere hope in the future of the Kingdom. A small smile wiping away the lines of anguish, Anvin found his goblet of laman and raised it before Elion.

“You may place your trust in Celestine,” Anvin declared with a warm heart. “She has much to learn and will be tested in the coming days, but she is loyal and unwavering in her loyalty. She will not disappoint you. Together you will strength in each other, no matter the tribulations, no matter the tragedies in which you will both suffer, such is the cost of war.”

“She is of my blood Anvin, I shall always protect her.” Elion stated clearly, his words disappearing behind a mass of hysteria which swept in through the great doors of the hall, soldiers rushing in, their faces flushed with terror. Standing up, his tall form commanding, Elion watched as the commander of the fifth legion came before him, falling to his knees before his commander.

“My lord you must come, you must come to the wall!” he declared, his words shaking, his fear reaching his trembling hands. Upon the ground, his blade trembled against the hard floor. Elion turned to Anvin. “The rangers have returned.”

“Then why do you tremble Fin?” Elion quizzed as he stepped down from the throne and helped the middle-aged man up. He considered the commander’s dark eyes and studied his face carefully.

“My lord, I find that no words can substitute for the scene I have just witnessed,” Fin returned with a shameful gaze. Fearing the worst, Anvin felt Elion’s instant reaction and dutifully followed him out of the great hall, now silent as the men and women darted forth from the hall, making for the wall. Outside the horns of Ethe could be heard, and a great many men both on feet and stead filled the streets, the light of the harsh moon upon their armour and staining the flags of Ethe and Calnuthe. The air was thick and smelled foul, yet his feet were energised by the fearful anticipation which flowed through him like venom. Following Elion as he ran down the street, flakes of the wintur snows falling, Anvin soon found himself climbing the great wall which stood high and mighty, the Blathan rock radiant against the night sky. His knees aching, Anvin came to a halt beside Elion and followed his gaze downwards. The marshland stretched outwards until it met with the horizon, its hazy darkness amplified by an army of human fire which steadily made its way towards the city, a mighty cry of pain and suffering filling the air. Behind him he heard the screeches of many women and felt the chill of the men, stood rooted to the ground in silence.

“Do something!” Elion commanded loudly as he turned his eyes to Anvin in desperation. “Bring their suffering to an end!”

Anvin felt the eyes of those closest upon him, hesitantly, feeling the power of the fire strike him like an arrow, he moved away from Elion and commanded space with his arms. Closing his eyes, he reached out his large hands and held them upwards. Instantly he could feel the wall of dark magic rising to meet with his own, and felt its power rush through him, burning the ends of his fingers. Words were without use, for the power gifted to the wizard was infinitely rooted within his mind, so much so that the simple incantations used as a young priest were now without merit. Magic flowed through him in much the same manner as the blood within his veins. He felt his power summon itself and flow outwards towards the source, yet as he touched the tortured remains of the rangers, that powerful wall now strong and defiant, forced his magic to retract and soon Anvin felt himself wielded within a struggle, never witnessed nor faced by the great wizard himself. His hands shaking violently against the progressive force of energy, Anvin opened his eyes and let out a howl of frustration.

“Show yourself!” he cried out in agony, a silver light now radiating from his hands as he deepened his mind and revealed himself. As though under the spell of a nervous fit, Anvin felt his head turned sharply from right to left, an image forming in his mind. About him, the environment unto which he stood, faded away to reveal a great room, a room known only to well to the wizard who once walked within its walls. The palace of Caci revealed itself in all its glory, and so Anvin found himself standing beneath the great star-shaped glass ceiling above. The air was cold and sweet, yet his skin burned, and a terrible sweat formed upon his brow and he held onto his power. “I said, show yourself!”

“Open your eyes priest and you shall see me!” came the high-pitched reply. The very words revolted Anvin, and whipped his soul with a lightening force, rendering him to his knees. His hands still held before him, he looked up from the white floor, his breath heavy and hard. His pupils dilating as the burning magic tore through him, Anvin faced Heidan, who stood tall and deadly before him, his right hand outstretched before him, a smile lingering upon his pale face. Anvin had met the son of Unyae before, yet still found himself frozen by the uncanny likeness between himself and his half-sister. His eyes, one golden and one black bore down upon him, his youthful face teasing the ageing wizard who now was upon bended knee.

“Your power does not wound me, Heidan!” Anvin declared with courage as he fought his way off the ground, his body trembling so deeply he thought he might fall once more.

“You cannot defeat me wizard, I am the presider of all power,” Heidan said with a flash of malice in his large eyes. He was as dark as the shadow which engulfed them, his robes of midnight blue and his long black hair loose about his strong form. “I am the unbreakable.”

“You have yet to take power from its guardian, Heidan, son of Unyae!” Anvin said in return, his thin lips lifting and forming a smile. “For you have yet to hear its call.”

“Power flows from my mouth priest! I am its master!” Heidan sneered as he took a step forward. Behind him, Anvin saw the figures of hooded men step forward from the shadow, their faces shielded beneath there cloaks of darkness. Fear gripped Anvin as the seven men steadily drew close, all of them bringing forth blades of fire. “I can stop the pain, if you will concede…I will release you from the fire, if you will concede.”

“Never!” Anvin cried out in defiance as he thrust himself into a powerful position. In a show of formidable power, Anvin brought back his hands, closed his eyes and thrust them forward, a terrible white light prevailing from his fingertips. He felt the wall begin to shatter and though his eyes were closed to Heidan, he could feel the man before him waver in shock. A red light protruded his vision as he manipulated his fingers in such a way that his nemesis fell backwards.

“Take him!” Heidan cried out in anger as he lifted himself up, the great streaks of red and white dancing before him, flashes of magic cutting through the white marbled walls. His own eyes filled with rage, Anvin felt the powerful connection between himself and Heidan move upwards. Opening his eyes, he cried out in horror as Heidan struck the glass ceiling above, his maleficent smile returning. “I am immortal priest and you…” he stepped forward as great shards of glass began to fall, piercing the ground about the warring men like an earthquake. “You are flesh upon which the maggot feasts!”

Thrusting his hands away from Heidan, Anvin forced them upwards and watched the white magic erupt into a great globe about himself, the glass shards striking the wall and diminishing into nothing. Hearing the cry of Heidan once more, Anvin stood his ground, the shield about him unbreakable. Seeing the vulnerability in the eyes of his opponent and feeling his power deepen and his authority sore, Anvin stepped forwards, his own eyes flashing wildly.

“You are wrong demon, power flows not from your lips but from the lips of my Queen,” Anvin called out in a deadly voice. His hands outstretched at his sides, he watched the dark Lord wither in obvious shock. Standing close to the cloaked men, Heidan raised his other hand, his power so intense that Anvin felt his feet leave the floor. His shield breaking against the might of his oppressor, Anvin felt his body levitate dangerously high. Beads of sweating falling upon his cheeks, he drew in his breath and felt the atoms of magic radiate from him once more, the feeling so incredibly singular that his body felt as though it had been broken in half. Flooring Heidan, Anvin fell with a crash to the marble below. Letting out an audible cry, Anvin looked up from the ground, blood pouring forth from his nose. A painful laugh curled about the atmosphere, touching him with fire. A single tear fell from his eye, falling upon his hand. As he sought relief from the pain searing through him, Anvin felt Heidan’s presence looming over him, the folds of his dark robes dancing perilously close to his face. He looked upwards, and watched as the dark Lord knelt before him, his snake like eyes pointed like daggers. Taking his blood-stained hair by the fistful, Heidan forced Anvin’s head upwards.

“How your people will scorn you,” Heidan whispered darkly, licking his lips and chuckling, his behaviour disturbing Anvin to the core. He was like a wild beast, a wild beast which laughed upon the face of death and found pleasure in the pains of man. “The great wizard of the North stripped of his power and bent before his victor in shame.”

“It matters not dark Lord,” Anvin returned, his eyes unafraid of the man before you. “For no matter how hard you try, you will never be able to separate yourself from the blood of your mother. The shame you bare, far greater than my own will follow you from beast to beast and in the end, when the world is broken, and the throne destroyed, you will destroy yourself. And in your place, the seeds of life shall begin to grow once more and you…” Anvin readied his hands steadily, his legs finding strength amid the pain. “You will diminish into the night sky, where upon the light of your mother’s star shall destroy whatever power you once wielded.” Seeking his moment, Anvin found Heidan’s face with his hands and watched as his body lit up with white light, his cries of pain erupting through the great palace, deafening the ears of those within. His white hand falling away from Anvin’s head, Heidan fell upon the ground in withering pain, Anvin’s hands still upon his face. This was his test, this was his time. Standing over Heidan, he released his hands from the dark lord’s face and waited a moment. Crawling away in agony, Heidan turned his snake-like eyes to the wizard who stood tall and strong, his age vanishing to reveal his true self. “I am the keeper of white magic, and protector of the vale of light. I am the guardian of this earth and you shall fall snake, and you shall break before the rising of the sun, your body broken upon the stone table.” His white light filling the palace and blinding the seven men, Anvin could feel the environment around him change. “She is coming and with her the light of her ancestors, forever to burn and never to be distinguished!” With his last words, the palace fell away and Anvin found himself back among the fearful men and women of Ethe. He lay upon the wet ground, soldiers forming a circle about his aching body. Snow falling upon his face in a fierce flurry of agitation, Anvin found Elion.

“What happened Anvin?” Elion asked in concern as he helped the wizard up onto his feet. He took off his own cloak of fur and wrapped it about the wizard’s body. Anvin lay his burning hands upon Elion’s arms and found his pensive gaze.

“The men…” Anvin stammered as he breathed in and out, willing the burning sensation to leave his body.

“You defeated the fire Anvin, you defeated the darkness,” Elion said with an amazed smile. Anvin studied the young mans face, but felt not the sudden emotions of victory. He felt fear. Snowflakes embedded into the long strands of Elion’s hair and eyelashes, Anvin brought him close, his lips finding his ear.

“Heidan…” he stammered without a thought for those about him. “He is coming.”









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