The Dragons Egg : Chapter IV : Winds of Change : Draft

IV

Winds of Change

Maethilda

A ray of golden sunlight bathed the ancient burial site of Eraught in a veil of eternal sunshine. The great stones of ancient priests and their families stood in a vast circle, of which four great pathways divided it up into quarterly sections, the morning light creating a beautiful and never failing paths of light  from the north to the south and west to east. Within the ancient circle, a young man robed in fine clothes, knelt before a tomb stone, his head bent in submission. Maethilda stood close to the forests edge and watched on in silence, her body slanted against the trunk of an elm tree. About her, a gentle wind danced, prompting the dying leaves to disconnect from their branches and swirl about in the air, softly falling to the forest floor. The morning sky was unusually red and together with the carpet of red, yellow and brown leaves, an enchanting contrast caused Maethilda’s skin to tingle, the beauty so rare and ethereal it left her quite breathless. The festivities of splenin had been on-going for the last two days where much dancing, merry making and relief had been indulged; yet for all the dancing, drinking and merry making, Maethilda had found herself unable to join in the festivities and had instead sought refuge within the summerian forest which bordered the city of Summe. Joining her in reflection was Aabe, her brother, whose own shoulders were heavily laden with burdens. Together they had made the journey north, past the summerian hills in search of the ancient site of Eraught. It had been a year since Adadine’s passing and still the pain of her premature death hung heavy over Maethilda and Aabe. With change upon the winds, Maethilda felt her loss more so now as nature began to fall away, the white rains nearing. Soon they would have to turn back as the splenin games were upon them. The great clans of the north and south would battle one another in order to win the golden cup of Glentaire, the first great priest of the north. The clans would each choose a team of five members to fight on their behalf and the chosen teams would then spend a week searching for seven flags, the last located upon the island of Fyrth, five miles north of the northern city of Ashlois, in which the great cup was located. The team with the most flags and the cup would be heralded the winner and the clan chief would be given a special seat of influence within the high council of priests for a year. Maethilda and four other female fighters, including her best friend Evalean were to represent the summerian clan this year for the first time. Women had been forbidden to fight alongside men until the death of Adadine, who upon her death bed begged Anvin her father and high priest that women should be allowed to partake in the splenin games. The decision had not been received well by the northern clans, who with their differing views on religion and the role of women had reacted by not attending the great funeral of the high priests daughter. In turn, the clans had been banned from taking part in any governing for a year. Never had the splenin games been more divisive and important than this year. It would be up to Maethilda and her highly trained group of female soldiers to win the cup and avenge Adadine.

The clans of the north had not been the only foes of Adadine’s wish, Morad and his own soldiers had reacted in bitter, a rift which had become personal. Morad and Maethilda’s competitive natures had naturally created a divide between them, but never had it served to create a deep seated anger between them than it did now. It seemed that despite Anvin’s wish to bring Summe into the present, the clans of Summe would forever be connected and loyal to the traditions of the past. The rift between Morad and Maethilda had seeped into their groups and so the seed of division had grown steadily within the last year. Both wished to be the ruling force of Summe, but it would seem that the likely hood of unity was far off. Maethilda wished to prove herself in the eyes of the high council, an attempt to persuade them that she was ready to reclaim her mother’s throne of Taer and to persuade her elders that she was capable of leading and ruling. Morad and many other authoritive male figures found unity in their shared aversion of a female ruler. The silent love that Maethilda had always shared for Morad had turned brittle, yet despite his sexist beliefs and traditional views, she loved him, understanding him better than any other man or woman could. The division of gender and politics could not break the unspoken oath of love she had towards the arrogant, strong headed and intelligent Morad. She hoped that with time would come wisdom and mellowness and until such a time, she would not forsake her calling, she would take up her sword and prove herself equal in both physical and mental strength, and never more was their an opportunity to prove this than the splenin games.

The movement of Aabe, shook Maethilda out her thoughts and brought her back to the present moment. She watched on as Aabe turned and made his way through the great circle, his feet heading in her direction. He was taller than she, with fine brown hair and brown eyes. His face was graceful and soft, his eyes betraying his young age. He was a gifted man, who would someday become the high priest of Summe and Meer and yet for all his abilities, his back was hunched and his face grey with heaviness. The coming of Celestine and war had struck him low, he was torn between the duty for his people and his love for Evalean. It had been the custom of all priests to marry from the Ash clan of the north, binding both the north and south together an ensuring that peace was delivered throughout the land. Evalean was like her brother Morad, an orphan and thus was not allowed to marry a high priest. This ancient rule had weighed heavy upon the two young lovers, especially Aabe, who now drew close to Maethilda, his brown eyes bright and fair. Pushing her lean body away from the trunk of the elm tree, Maethilda fixed her cloak about her and smiled warmly to her old friend.

“Are you ready to return?” She asked Aabe, who now re-joined her.

“Are you?” Aabe asked with a sly smile upon his thin lips. Maethilda rolled her eyes playfully as her companion picked up his leather bag and draped it across his shoulders and back.

“I rather like living in the forest, if truth be told,” Maethilda jested as they both turned from Eraught and made their way through the ancient forest, the great trees spaciously parted from one another, allowing a dainty stream of morning light to bathe the forest floor. “Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to live as a bird and to have wings in which to simply fly away.”

“To stand apart from the human world and simply be,” Aabe murmured under his breath. Up ahead stood their horses, tied to a tree and eating plenty from the branches.

“At least you have magical abilities in which to help you to disassociate yourself from your troubles,” Maethilda groaned as she wrapped her arms about the neck of her stallion, Ethral. From the corners of her sea green eyes, Maethilda watched on as Aabe frowned.

“Some would disagree with you,” he replied kindly as he untied his own stallion, Balladur from the tree. Maethilda untied Ethral and with ease, jumped onto his back, taking a hold of the thick, black, leather reigns. Upon the saddle to each side was her sword, bow and a leather satchel of arrows. Turning Ethral towards Balladur, she eyed Aabe.

“You have always looked upon your abilities as some sort of curse,” she said aloud, brushing her heavy, blonde locks of hair away from her face. “I wish you could see the gifts you bare, I wish you could understand how precious they are. I have only the gift of a sword and tongue in which to aid my cause, you with a hardened stare and words I cannot begin to understand can bring a ruler to his knees.”

“That is exactly why I fear the abilities I have,” Aabe said with a grey stare. “They have the power to change me in ways that would make you shake. There is a very thin line between a gift and a curse, and I am in constant awareness of it.”

“Aabe sometimes you need to step back from your troubles and let yourself breathe,” Maethilda returned as they both kicked their stallions into a slow trot. “Sometimes I look into your eyes and I see an ancient soul, who has not seen or felt the light in a thousand years. I understand and also share in your worries, but you like I allow them to fester and pester you until you find yourself emerged within a torrent of water.”

“I have been raised to take my responsibilities seriously Maettie,” Aabe said with a slight smile. “You and I are not so unalike, only that you have the choice in which to concede to your destiny or to alter it. Both of us where raised independently and separately from our friends, to train in the art of ruling. There is no disguising or hiding from who we are.”

“That does not mean that we should allow ourselves to become enslaved to our futures,” Maethilda argued hotly as they crossed a small bridge over a stream.

“War brews within the north and south, and our greatest hope will soon fall to this world,” Aabe said as he came to ride beside his friend. “From what my father says, she will be unlearned and vulnerable. Our destiny has already been paved, you and I must protect our Queen and ensure she lives until we can safely bring her to the garden of Calhuni and crown her Queen of Calnuthe.”

“The people of Calnuthe will not follow a naive young Queen into battle,” Maethilda replied with a shake of her head. “It is ridiculous to expect such a thing, no matter who she is or the blood that runs through her veins.”

“One would almost think you angry and indeed bitter towards her,” Aabe said with a frown. Maethilda bent her body forward and once more wrapped her arms about her stallion, finding comfort in his strength.

“She has no idea the journey that lies before her, do we even know that she is the weapon we have been in search of?”

“She is not our enemy Maethilda, and if you wish to reclaim Taer then you will need her.”

“I can reclaim my mother’s throne without the help of an uneducated girl, who most likely lacks in sense of duty and indulges in the luxurious aspects of court life,” Maethilda spat. “I have spent years training to become a ruler, why would I need her to ensure my victory?”

“She is the only person who can reach the garden of Calhuni and claim the powers the throne of Kings can give. You may have been in training for years, but you have no army, no followers and no one behind you to give you the power you need in overcoming not one, but several opponents, all of whom have their eyes on the same prize.”

“Why should I be dependent on another for victory?” Maethilda said aloud as she turned her troubled face away from Aabe.

“Rarely does anyone ever achieve victory without help.”

“That does not mean that it is impossible surely?”

“It only means that the probability is greatly decreased,” Aabe answered stoutly. “Maethilda the likehood of you regaining Taer is slim, very slim. Taer is not only threatened by internal enemies, but is also threatened by Islaer and Heidan. Soon either one will come marching upon the borders and claim the land for themselves. I am afraid that if you have any chance what so ever in regaining Taer, then you will need Celestine as much as she may need you for guidance. She may surprise us all and you especially. Let us not condemn her when she cannot defend herself. Let us hope that she is the weapon we have been ardently seeking.”

“The world is a darker place without its peacekeeper,” Maethilda said quietly as she opened her small leather pouch and gulped down a mouthful of fresh water.

“My sister has left her mark on those closest, she always placed great hope in the people of Summe, to lead the way forward in diplomacy and reconciliation,” Aabe said with pride, his brown eyes glimmering with silent tears.

“How would she council us now?”

“She would have us put all of our goodness into Celestine and she would have us treat her as an equal,” Aabe answered with certainty, watching the young Maethilda through kind eyes. Her braided hair gleamed with health and her skin radiated as she tended to her water once more. The painted marks of her particular group known to the summerians as the pickets, decorated her forehead and cheeks, the red paint beautifully curved about her strong features. For each of the six levels of training required to become a picket, a warrior was awarded with a red line upon their cheek, a mark of their progression and position. She was as many of the elders proclaimed, in the image of her mother. Of her father, nobody knew who he was or had been, but Aabe had concluded that he must have been a great warrior and leader of men, for it seemed to him that Maethilda was gifted with the abilities of leadership and loyalty.

“You are looking at me with queer eyes,” Maethilda said with a strange expression upon her face. “You think me too harsh? Think me against this Celestine?”

“No,” Aabe answered with a quick shake of his head. “No, it is just that at times I am quite struck by you. I have always seen you as my sister and friend, but there is the rare moment in which I glimpse a Queen and I am struck with awe.”

“You do?” Maethilda almost whispered with hope, her strong eyes softening at her friend’s words. “Really?”

“For once I disagree with my father, you are I believe ready for the journey ahead of you,” Aabe said with questioning eyes. “And I believe that these games will prove my theory right.”

“Was I foolish in offering Anvin the services of my warriors this year? I fear we will have the anger of all the other clans who may wish us harm.”

“If you mean Morad, he will not allow anyone to touch you no matter his loyalty to the old ways,” Aabe said with a smile. “He may dislike your popularity and strength but he will not see any ill treatment against you, he is despite his outward ways, loyal to you.”

“Did you see him with the twins? Pawning over them as though they were a rare treasure of womanhood,” Maethilda said with a bitterness attached to her voice. “How the fathers of these girls do not ask for blood is beyond my understanding. He should be teaching his men to respect the virtues of women, instead he would have them bed every women in Summe. Does he do it to spite me?”

“Morad has and always will be his own worst enemy, if he does not reign in his need for supremacy he will find himself on bent knee before the sword,” Aabe said with a deep voice.

“Even his sister cannot abide his current activities, rarely does he eat with us anymore or take walks with us.”

“I do not condone his behaviour, but I see where it stems from,” Aabe said as they both turned southwards through the forest, now following the stream and making for the great summerian hills, which could be seen upon the horizon. “You and I were born with greatness thrust upon us, we both are destined to become the leaders of men, he and Evalean however are orphans and must always fight to survive in this world. He sees an injustice done upon him and will not bow to the God of depravity and poverty. He wishes to be our equal despite him believing you unequal to him merely because of your sex. Deep down he knows you to be greater than him and a part of him that watched his parents die before him, will never truly accept his fate. It has been the making of him and could be the downfall of him too if he is not careful. It is for us to keep him upon the path of goodness and it is for us to ensure that he does not fall prey to the greed of powerful men.”

“There is goodness within him,” Maethilda said softly, her mind projecting an image of Morad before her. “And I will never give up in him.”

“Men pray by the sword but forget the power of love,” Aabe said as he let his free hand gently touch the dying leaves above his head. “It can move us in ways unknown and it can alter the very course of the future. Your love for Morad will keep him centred.”

“And your love for Evalean?” Maethilda asked with warm cheeks. Aabe turned his eyes from Maethilda, his body becoming tight and rigid.

“She is my friend and our friendship is a pillar of strength and warmth in these dark days.”

“Why will you not allow yourself to accept that you love her as a man loves a woman? Cannot you change the rules of this land so that you can take her hand as your wife? Surely Anvin wishes to see you happy?”

“We have rules for a reason Maethilda, this you know,” Aabe said with a contoured expression upon his pale face. “Sometimes as leaders we must see past our own wishes and do what is best for our people. To marry from the clan Ash is right not just for my family but for the rest of Summe, it is for that reason that we have lived amicably with one another for over two hundred moons. I would not see that alliance broken, even it means that I must marry without love. My father married my mother without love and in time they fell in love with one another and lived happily.”

“If we cannot find happiness within ourselves then we cannot possibly give it to others,” Maethilda said stubbornly. “I intend to take the hand of the man I love.”

“You may find you have no choice over your future husband friend.”

“What do you mean?”

“In our world, marriage is a contract, it is an allegiance which betters our position and power, if you wish to become Queen of Taer, you may have to marry for reasons outside of love,” Aabe said with knowing eyes. Maethilda stopped Ethral and turned to Aabe, her eyes bright and filled with anger.

“Why should I submit the only possession that is truly mine in order to find power and position?”

“Maethilda there is no point in quarrelling with me, you know as well as I that you hold no power despite your blood and claim,” Aabe said with firmness. “If you wish to regain your throne you will have to make alliances with those you may not like and you may have to marry a man you do not like in order to succeed. The people of Taer would never accept Morad as your husband or King, you know this. Are you willing to make such a sacrifice so that you can rule?”

“Who would you see me marry then?” Maethilda spat out angrily.

“You have only two options,” Aabe answered plainly. “You must marry from the houses of Magna or Varae. They are the only houses loyal to your family and they both happen to have money and supporters, even if they are under constant attack from Ravan and other contenders for the throne.”

“I would not need to marry from either if Anvin would pledge his support to my cause,” Maethilda said quietly.

“You know he cannot give you an army,” Aabe said with kind eyes. Maethilda felt his hand upon her own.

“Why not?”

“The treaty of Kells prohibits any summerian army from interfering with the matters of the south or north. You know it took three moons for our people to find common ground and unity and many died during the civil war. We cannot risk that to happen again not when we prosper and live in amicable peace alongside one another.”

“Even to help and aid an ally? Surely you cannot believe that the wars of the south and north will not come to our shores?”

“Indeed I am aware that our enemies are ready to attack Summe which is why our unity as one is more important than ever,” Aabe advocated firmly. “Our clans must never choose between the south or north for the good of our island and its future.”

“Even when your father is the high priest of the north? Does his allegiance not lie with Ballour?”

“His allegiance also lay with the high king of the south,” Aabe warned, his grasp tightening slightly. “It is for that reason that you live.”

“Then I will never sit upon the throne of Taer,” Maethilda sighed, kicking her horse into a fierce gallop, leaving Aabe behind.

“Maethilda!” Aabe cried aloud. Without second glance, he kicked his own horse into a fierce gallop.

Maethilda felt the hot buds of tears fall upon her face as she raced through the forest at high speed, forgetting her friend and mustering all of her anger into Ethral, who took the beating readily and without complaint. Soon she came to the hills of Summe and raced up the steep slopes until she came to the top and stopped Ethral. Panting hard, her forehead beaded with sweat, Maethilda patted Ethral kindly and whispered apologies into his ear before looking up and out over the vast land below. To the east in the far distance she could see the outline of Taer, its great and raw coastline upon the horizon. Behind her she heard the hoofs of Balladur and felt Aabe come to her side, panting as he bide his horse to stop.

“Why did you take off like that?” he asked aloud, wiping his brow with the sleeve of his arm.

“Do I need a reason?”

“Maethilda why do you keep believing that because we cannot under treaty pledge our support to you that we are in some way your foe?” Aabe said without kindness. “Has my father not proved his loyalty to you? Has he not sheltered you from your enemies and brought you up with an education any King or Queen would be honoured to receive?”

“You cannot know what it is to be in my position, when your own is so cleanly presented to you without trial or error,” Maethilda groaned as she gracefully jumped off Ethral and walked away, her thick braids of hair bellowing about her tall frame. With passion she turned to a shocked Aabe and looked at him fiercely. “My people have been in the clutches of oppression and violence for twenty five years under the rule of Ravan, once they were a united people, now they are divided and set against one another like animals. Does a parent simply allow their children to turn one on another without trying to tend to them? Do you expect me to simply look out at my land and not feel anger or bitterness that I cannot help my own people out of the dark predicament in which they find themselves?”

“Maethilda,” Aabe tried to speak only to shut his mouth as his friend raised a hand.

“He murdered my mother and brought untold bloodshed to those who were loyal to her,” Maethilda almost sobbed without grace. “Taer was once the jewel of the south, with its great cities and temples; now they have been vandalised, looted and destroyed. Men and merchants kill one another for power or religious authority and rarely does the sun shine upon it. How can you expect me to sit idle to such a problem?”

“How can you fix it without support?” Aabe said, his words crushing Maethilda’s hope and passions. “Can you offer them hope? Can you give the people of Taer the strength needed to overcome those who seek your throne?”

“Is my love for them not enough?” Maethilda cried out, her legs falling away from her. With a hard pain, she felt her knees fall under the thick grass. Aabe hurried down from Balladur and ran to her side, falling to his own knees and forcing her to turn to him with pleading eyes.

“Your love for Taer and your people is a pillar of strength, but it is not enough, this you know. Placing yourself upon the throne will not aid matters that are beyond your control. Taer is divided and unstable, it will take more than a Queen for reconciliation to occur.”

“What must I do?” Maethilda said through gritted teeth, wiping away the hot tears that soaked her warm skin. The morning sunshine fell upon both of them as they held each other.

“We will find a way, I promise,” Aabe soothed as he brought her into an embrace. “Come sister, I will never give up on you, nor will your friends. If it is your destiny to rule over Taer, then it will come to be in time.”

“And if it is not my destiny?” Maethilda whispered as she raised her sea green eyes to his own brown gaze.

“You must believe that it is,” Aabe said with a persuasive smile. “There is a reason why against all the odds, you survived being killed. There is a reason why you were brought to Summe and in time you will come to understand why.”

“It is all I have left of her,” Maethilda said pathetically. “They are all I have of my mother.”

“They are not all that you have,” Aabe said with warmth, his arms tightening about her frame. “You were formed within her womb and knitted together with love. All that you are stems from your mother. She lives in you, even in death.”

“I feel as though the chance to avenge her is slipping through my fingers with each day that passes.”

“I do not believe that, you are the strongest woman I have known thus far in my life,” Aabe replied. “Your chance to avenge your mother’s death will come and you will face it with courage and determination. Maybe just maybe, Celestine is a part of that journey.”

“What if she is displeased with me or does not support my claim?”

“I doubt she will be displeased with you,” Aabe laughed deeply. “Find me another woman who has single handily managed to change the role of women in such a short period of time?”

“That wasn’t due to me, it was due to your sister.”

“She would not have partitioned your cause if you had not changed the lives of so many young women on this island,” Aabe said seriously. “She believed in you as so many do. Take hope from that and do not so readily give up. You have a chance to prove your doubters wrong this week, a chance to bring independence to the lives of many a young woman who would normally find themselves married at a young age and working in the fields. It is because of you and indeed my sister that women can now work alongside male healers and learn their practices.”

“I wish Morad could see it in the same light.”

“Maethilda you cannot force someone to love you,” Aabe said softly, wiping away her tears. “Morad is trying to find his footing in this world. If he loves you as you do him, he will find his way to you in time. Do not hate him so much for his actions towards other women, instead pity the man he thinks he must become in order to be your equal.”

“It hurts me to see him consort with women as though they were nothing but meat,” Maethilda confided, her voice cracking with vulnerability. “I want and need him by my side. I cannot set out upon this journey without him and yet he seems so far from me now.”

“No matter how far he seems to be, he is by your side and has always been your greatest supporter,” Aabe said with pity filled eyes. “Come, let us go home and be with our friends before the games start.”

“You think me silly?”

“I have never thought you silly, you spend so much time trying to be impenetrable that you never allow yourself time in which to simply be a woman,” Aabe answered with a smile. Together Maethilda and Aabe stood up and embraced one another again, holding onto each other with a mutual tightness. “My loyalty has and always will be yours.”

“And mine yours.”

*

The great hall of Summe was a filled with members of the great clans, all of whom were in the throes of merriment, the night before the games were due to begin. Four large tables filled the centre of the hall, all of them laden with food and drink. To each side of the hall was a great fire, both with two large pigs roasting slowly, watched over by young male servants. To the back of the hall stood Maethilda and Evalean, both gowned in fine dresses with wreathes of wild flowers upon their heads. Sipping from her copper goblet, Maethilda looked down the hall at a drunk Morad, who sat upon one of the tables in deep conversation with Igrid, the daughter of Alfnod, the chief of Kios, a southern town which lay to the west of Summe. As though sensing her eyes upon him, Morad looked up from is conversation and met her gaze, holding hers for a moment before turning away, a pensive look upon his face.

“If you ask me, the games couldn’t come sooner in the case of my brother,” Evalean sighed heavily as she watched Morad whisper into the beautiful Igrid’s ear.

“Hmm,” Maethilda groaned as she took another large mouthful of laman. “I need you to do something for me Evalean.”

“Yes?” Evalean asked, turning her gaze to her friend. Maethilda looked down into the ethereal face of Evalean, her thick brunette locks beautifully weaved into a beautiful knot and her large hazel eyes curious and bright.

“Could you round up our team and bid them to meet me in the armoury at ten this evening?” Maethilda asked, her eyes shining and filled with mischief.

“Why?” Evalean enquired with a frown.

“I just think it logical for us to run through our plans for this week before we lay our heads to rest that’s all,” Maethilda lied, a deep smile stretching from one side of her face to another.

“Why do I disbelieve your words?” Evalean laughed merrily as Aabe came to her side, placing a hand upon her back gently. Maethilda noticed the change in her friend’s posture as Aabe arrived and felt her stomach tighten.

“Ask no questions Evalean, can you just ensure that the others meet us at ten?” Maethilda said with a groan, the loving image of Aabe and Evalean making her feel faint.

“Off course,” Evalean said seriously, her eyes searching Maethilda.

“Good, now if you’ll excuse me, I am off to the astronomy tower.” Maethilda gazed over at Morad one last time before turning on her feet and striding away. Gracefully she wound her way through the dancing crowd, raising her goblet high above her head in case any laman should spill. When she reached a side door, she slipped through it and found herself outside. The rest of the city was silent and dark, with a dozen or so torches lighting the thin alleys and roundhouses. Above her the stars twinkled brightly and a few night birds sang out. She stood against the wall and closed her eyes, feeling her chest rise and fall. The sound of merry singing filled the night sky and the heat of the fires could still be felt as she lifted her heavy skirts and made her way down the winding steps. It took but five minutes to find her way to the astronomy tower, now isolated and without human presence. Opening the great door of the tower, Maethilda hitched up her skirts higher and began the steep climb up the narrow stairs. After a hundred or so steps she stopped to heave in a breathe before going on again. When she reached the door of the astronomy room, she opened it lightly and entered. Her curiosity had been gently simmering for weeks after her last visit, in which she was introduced to the secret door. Knowing that Anvin was busy and the greater part of the city was merrymaking in the great hall, she had an hour in which to quench her curiosity. Quickly she closed the door behind her and picked up the one and only torch and made her way through the room, passing the large telescope and the ancient book of days. Stopping for a moment she simply lifted her eyes to the great glass ceiling above her and let out a small oh, the beauty of the night sky ever causing her heart to flip. After a moments pause she moved once more until she came to stand before the ordinary looking door. Her skin felt sickly cold as she observed the wooden door before her. Letting her skirts fall to the ground she carefully made her way towards the door and with a shaking hand, clasped the metal handle, pulling it back and opening the door slowly. A harsh cold gust swept over her body, blowing out the torch and engorging Maethilda in a gulf of darkness. As the cold gust eased, Maethilda stepped forward towards the dark abyss which filled the depths of the doorway. Her skin covered in goose bumps, she lifted her right hand and held it out. As she came closer, she began to see a face form before her, followed by a body, swathed in a dazzling dress. Maethilda found herself staring into the face of a beautiful but fearful woman. She stood tall and firm before her, her eyes sea green and her hair fair like her own. Upon her head was a crown of what looked to be small swords. Upon her hands where fine jewelled rings. The woman smiled down at Maethilda and held out a hand for her. Without thinking, Maethilda clasped the hand and suddenly felt herself enter the doorway. A great beam of light blinded her but for a moment, until she found herself upon a great battle field, surrounded by a mass of bodies from the south to the north and the west to the east. The sky above her was blood red and the woman beside her, stood still and silent, her eyes cast over the great field. Without speaking, the woman lifted her right hand and pointed towards the centre of the field, to where a great throne stood, empty and covered in blood. Turning, the woman pushed Maethilda onwards, forcing her to make her way through the countless bodies of men. Her stomach swirling with nausea as the stench of death and blood filled her senses, Maethilda carefully made her way towards the throne, a great fleet of ravens flying overhead, their cries high and painful to the ear. A great dragon call forced Maethilda to stop moving. Casting her gaze northwards she saw a great dragon, black and deathlike flying over a vast, snow topped mountain range, its cry causing the ravens to flee from the field of human flesh. Shaking with fear, Maethilda turned and began to make her way towards the throne once more. As she edged closer she saw a man to her left making for the throne. He was dressed in heavy armour, his head covered in a golden helmet. Maethilda frowned as the man hurriedly made for the throne, stopping once to gaze over at her, his sword in his right hand, tinted with blood. Maethilda felt her feet begin to pick up pace as she realised the throne was under attack from the faceless man. As she began to run, she heard a wolfs cry to the right of her and turned her gaze, her green eyes settling upon a great white wolf, which like herself and the soldier was running towards the throne.

 Maethilda felt panic and with it, her bare feet began to desperately make for the throne, the wolf and the soldier also hurrying towards it with ferocious intensity. She cared not for the bodies beneath her as she made a desperate bid for the throne. Crying out with determination she ran. As she ran she feared that she would collide with the soldier and the wolf and turned her eyes quickly to assess their positions. As she came to the throne, she came closer to the enemies and stretched out her hand. With all the strength and determination she could muster, she threw her body forward as the great white wolf suddenly jumped over her. Feeling her body hit the throne hard, her eyes locked on the wolf above, his terrifying set of white teeth showing as his jaw opened. A great cry of pain filled the air as the wolf filled its mouth with the flesh of the soldier. Her body crushed and broken against the stone throne, Maethilda looked over at the wolf and soldier, now both involved in a gruesome fight, blood and flesh sprouting and painting her pale skin. With one last cry, the soldier fell to his death and the wolf stood away, blood dripping from its jaws. With a sudden tremor, Maethilda cowered into the foetal positon, believing herself to be next. As the minutes passed, she felt nothing grab her body and carefully she opened her eyes to see the wolf, now quietly standing beside the throne, its blue and green eyes upon her solemnly.

Maethilda picked herself up and looked across at the soldier, whose helmet had been discarded from his head. Trembling, she walking over to the man, whose body had been ripped apart by the wolf. As she came closer, she stopped and flung a hand to her mouth and felt her eyes burn with pain.

“No!” she cried out with shock. “No!” she cried once more as she fell to the body of the man. With shaking hands, she carefully brushed aside the blood stained hair and found herself looking down upon Morad, his brown eyes open and glazed. Taking his body into her arms, she looked up at the red sky and cried, her voice cracked with agony and shock. As she cried, she heard the wolf bark and turned her angered eyes to him. “Why?” she bellowed out. The wolf sat up straight and did not move, its eyes upon her intensely.  As she whimpered and sobbed she observed the wolf and found that instead of hatred in its eyes, she found pity and she to her disbelief, grief.

“Maethilda.” A gentle but firm voice called out from behind. Turning, her body pained and covered in blood, Maethilda looked up into the eyes of the woman.

“Who are you?” she asked through her cracked groans.

“Don’t you know me?” the woman asked with a curious gaze, her eyes saddened and glimmering. The woman came to Maethilda and held out a hand to her. Without thinking, Maethilda took the hand and left Morad’s body upon the ground, rising to stand before the lady once more. “Do you not recognise me?”

“You cannot be her,” Maethilda whispered as she allowed the woman to guide her across to the throne, bypassing the silent wolf. The woman smiled with pride as she helped Maethilda to sit down upon the throne, unclasping her hand and standing back, her body enshrined in an ethereal light.

“Your throne awaits you,” she said with a smile, her body beginning to fade away into a gust of fine, yellow dust.

“Mother?” Maethilda whispered her hands outstretched before her in desperation. “No don’t go! Mother, stay!” The field before her began to fade into darkness before her, until she felt herself fall into an abyss, her body hitting a hard floor. For several minutes, Maethilda simply lay upon the floor of the astronomy tower and wept. As her tears faded away and her groans ceased, she opened her eyes and crawled across the floor to the steps of the pulpit. Feeling the steps, she made her way upwards until she came to the foot of the pulpit. With a quiet strength, she raised her body and let it fall against the wooden pulpit, her eyes upon the closed door. Her body was without blood and was free of pain as she simply gazed on, in shock. She had no answer for what had just happened, only that she had for the first time in her life met her mother and to add to the darkened surprise, she had also witnessed the death of the man she loved, by a great white wolf, who seemed to be aligned to her. Closing her eyes, she lifted her head to the skies and sniffed. Had she seen the future? Had her mother gifted her with a vision of what was to come? And if so, why was Morad also running for the throne and not her? Why had a great wolf killed him without the intent of taking the throne for itself? As she pondered over her thoughts, she did not hear the opening of the tower door.

“Maethilda?” a male’s voice called out. Maethilda felt a tremor run through her body and turned her eyes to Morad, who had entered, his eyes scouring the room for her. Something broke within Maethilda and she leapt to her feet suddenly. With blazing intent she ran into the arms of Morad and held him tight. “Maethilda what is it?” Morad cried out, his mouth hidden within her thick hair. Maethilda could not find the words, she simply hang on to his lean body and moulded herself to him with all determination and without care for propriety. After a moment she felt him ease beneath her, and felt his arms wrap themselves about her waist gently. “What has you so scared?”

“You will not die, promise?” Maethilda whispered fiercely, causing Morad to frown with confusion.

“What do you mean?” Morad asked aloud, pushing her hips backward so that he could look down into her pale face. “Has someone hurt you?” Maethilda shook her head before laying it upon his shoulder once more. She could smell laman upon his breathe as he held her close once again, his lips gently kissing her forehead. Closing her eyes, Maethilda lifted her mouth until it sought his own and impatiently kissed him, feeling his surprise as his body trembled in return. “Maethilda we shouldn’t,” he tried to council, as their kiss deepened and the hurried flame of passion began to stir. Maethilda felt her skin burn as she kissed Morad for the first time and realised that the rest of her began to weaken. Morad, a little drunk and worse for wear, pounced upon the opportunity and took control of the moment, letting his hands roam about Maethilda’s body as they kissed, she without experience and he with arrogant leisure. The coldness that had ensnared her body but a few moments before Morad’s entry had all but vanished as they found themselves falling to the ground in their embrace. Feeling her head gently meet the ground beneath her, Maethilda opened her eyes and found them gazing into Morad’s, his hands roughly searching her throat and hair.  “Maethilda,” Morad groaned as he kissed the length of her throat, his hands now splayed across her stomach. “Are you sure about this?” Maethilda wasn’t sure of anything as Morad explored her more carefully, in fact she found herself embroiled in a moment of confusion. Yes she had wanted this for a long time, but were her intentions honourable? Why was she suddenly kissing a man who had for the last year teased her and philandered with other women? Was she in need of comfort? Was she giving in to her primal need of physical love? Maethilda was only sure of one thing, which was as the sun rose, this moment would surely fade away as the consequences of Morad’s drunken state took course. Would he regret this moment? Or would he realise that he felt as she did? Maethilda simply didn’t know as she felt his hand snake up her shaking leg.

“Are you sure?” Maethilda asked, her lips trembling and swollen. Morad stopped kissing her and raised his head, his eyes meeting her own.

“I think I am drunk,” he smiled lazily. Maethilda felt her body freeze beneath her as he spoke and suddenly felt a wave of shame pass over her as Morad laughed, the smell of laman repulsive upon his breathe. With a kick, she freed herself of him and struggled to her feet.

“So I am just one of your nightly excursions?” she yelled aloud as Morad brought himself to his feet, his face confused and puffy.

“You kissed me remember?” he shouted back, coming to her and taking her firmly by the arms. “How is this my fault?”

“Because in your eyes I am not better than a common prostitute!” Maethilda cried out, her eyes burning and sore.

“Maethilda that isn’t true!” Morad pleaded, his head sore and heavy. “Please, wait!”

“For what? I have been waiting on you for years and still I wait!” Maethilda said hotly.

“Maethilda, I didn’t know.”

“How could you not know?”

“Men, we don’t see things in quite the same way,” Morad said as he fought to keep a hold of Maethilda. “It doesn’t mean that we do not feel the same.”

“Do you? Feel the same?” Maethilda asked bluntly.

“If you mean do I want to kiss you then yes,” Morad replied with an arrogant smile, his eyes betraying a silent fear. Silence fell upon the room and Morad let his forehead fall upon Maethilda’s. “I have missed you so much. Whenever I see you, you are always angry with me.”

“You never make time for me anymore,” Maethilda groaned, her eyes closing with tiredness. “It is like you don’t wish to be in my company.”

“That isn’t true,” Morad said with a shake of his head, his dark curls dancing about him. “It’s the men, they don’t want me to be in your company not with the games.”

“I thought we were friends?”

“We are!” Morad pleaded, his lips caressing her cheek once more, this time gently and patiently. “I want you too.” Maethilda looked up into his brown eyes.

“You do?”

“How could I not?” Morad smiled, his white teeth sparkling.

“I…I had a dream that you died,” Maethilda whispered as she pressed her hands upon his chest.

“When? Now?” Morad asked with a shocked expression. Maethilda simply nodded and once more wrapped her arms about Morad. “It was only a dream,” Morad whispered into her ear. “I’m here, alive.”

“You will not leave me?”

“Not even in death,” Morad smiled kindly, his eyes serious as though he had just awoken from a dream. Maethilda searched his confused face and took a step backwards. “Maethilda, I am not your equal and can never be.”

“You are my equal Morad, I have tried to tell you as much,” Maethilda pleaded, sensing his change in mood, his brows furrowed and deep.

“I am the son of a butcher,” Morad smiled awkwardly. “My path and your own are not destined to collide as you would wish.”

“I don’t understand,” Maethilda said with a shake of her head, her loose hair dancing as her body moved. “Don’t you like me?”

“I do like you, I have always liked you,” Morad whispered painfully. “But when you one day claim back your throne, it will not be me sitting by your side. I am a commoner, no one would allow a commoner to marry a Queen.”

“You don’t know that, I don’t even know if I will be a Queen,” Maethilda cried out, her hands reaching out to touch Morad, who flinched away from her.

“Truth is, I don’t think I am capable of loving someone who is higher than myself, selfish and conceited as that may sound,” Morad said openly, turning himself away from Maethilda. “You love me now, but in time when you have travelled and met other men of a higher stature, you will look down at me and feel nothing but pity and I do not want your pity.”

“Morad please, don’t do this,” Maethilda whispered, tears falling down her cheeks.

“I’m not even sure if I love you or the idea of you,” Morad said coldly.

“No, you cannot mean that.”

“I do not know how I feel about you,” Morad said with an air of uncertainty. “I like you of that I am sure, I want you as any man would, but I am not sure if I love you enough.”

“I do not want any other man by my side. I have never wanted anyone else but you.”

“I know,” Morad whispered, turning his face to Maethilda. Maethilda felt as though her whole world had suddenly been ripped apart by the events of the last hour and felt herself fall to the ground, without grace or consciousness. A numbness spread through her limbs and body and she sat quietly. Morad knelt down before her and cupped her face within his hands. “You are so sure of your future and yourself that I find it frightening to be around, when I am so misplaced in this world and without purpose as you are. In time you would come to hate me for it and I in turn would hate you too. The love that you have for me and the feelings that I have for you would fade away and then where would we be?”

“My love for you could never fade, don’t you understand, I have loved you because you are unsure of your life, do you not know how refreshing and relieving it is to know someone whose life isn’t paved out for them? Who is as free as the wind?”

“You find it refreshing now when you are young and impressionable, but in the future, it does not take such a romantic form,” Morad said as he brought Maethilda into an embrace. “I am a man who is truly lost and at sea, and I must find a path for myself, I must choose a destiny for myself.”

“But if I am Queen then you can have the world,” Maethilda whimpered into his shoulder. “I can give it to you.”

“I don’t want you to give it to me,” Morad thundered. “I want to find it for myself as any man would. Men of the court would laugh at me, being the subject of a Queen and in receipt of her goodness, having no real power for myself, no real authority over my life.”

“You can share in my power, share in my world,” Maethilda pledged. “I would gladly share it with you.”

“Now you would,” Morad smiled in irony. “But when you are older and wiser, you will not see the world as you see it now. You will not want to share your power after fighting so hard for it and neither should you.”

“You want me?” Maethilda whispered as she clung onto the one last lingering hope.

“Yes, I want you,” Morad said with confidence. “You are beautiful to behold and I do not want any man to touch you as I have.”

“But you do not love me?”

“I do not know if I am ready to give myself in that way to another, we are both still young.”

“But you want me,” Maethilda reiterated.

“Yes,” Morad whispered, his lips finding her own once again. “I always will.”

“Then I will wait for you,” Maethilda promised wildly.

“I do not want you to wait for me Maethilda, I want you to live life without the burden of me.”

“It is no burden to me Morad, it has never been a burden to me.”

Morad cupped Maethilda’s face and stared at her hard.

“No, I will not have you give up the love of another man for me, I am not worth such a risk.”

“But you are to me Morad and I will not have you take this from me. If I cannot have you then I will have no one.” Maethilda smiled through her tears and kissed Morad once more. “Now go.”

“Go?”

“Please, I need some time alone before I return to the feast.”

Morad released himself from Maethilda and stood up before her, his brown eyes serious and filled with contemplation.

“I shall see you in the morning?” he asked softly, trying to regain his composure.

“Of course,” Maethilda smiled kindly. “Now leave me.” Morad without replying, turned on his feet and left Maethilda and the tower, closing the door behind him without a second glance. Feeling the air turn to steel about her, Maethilda let her hands fall to the cold ground beneath her and kept her gaze upon the door, waiting and urging him to return to her. As the minutes past, her hope in his return faded away and she sat in silence. She would not allow him to die and if he still did not wish to love her in return, she would still gladly give her life to save him from the hound that wished him dead.

*

“You look terrible,” Evalean chided Maethilda as they joined the rest of the pickets, who were now readying their horses, their hardened stares upon the other seven groups, representing the seven clans of Summe which included the northern clans; Ash, Skil and Tor and the southern clans; Summe, Novi, Kios and Sky. The northern clans, united in their hatred towards the female company, sneered as the woman bypassed them, making for the rest of their group.

“Least to say, Muta looks ready to pounce on us,” Evalean said loudly, her hard gaze upon the chief leader of clan Ash.

“All the better for us,” Maethilda laughed as she placed her daggers within their sheaths. After her intimate encounter with Morad the previous evening, she and the rest of the pickets had spent an hour in the armoury going over their newly reprised plans, plans even Evalean had found a tad dramatic. They understood that the other groups would almost certainly try anything in which to get rid of them, all of them united in the theory that to be outsmarted by woman would be to them detrimental to their honour and image. Maethilda did not feel threatened by the southern clans, all of whom she knew pretty well, she did however fear the northern clans, most of which were made up of hot headed young men, unable to imagine a world in which women ruled. Maethilda and her group not only had to prove themselves as equals, but they had to prove themselves worthy of such a distinction. When Maethilda and Evalean joined their group, they all huddled about one another.

“Mairina do you have the tools?” Maethilda asked the young warrior which auburn hair and wild blue eyes.

“They are hidden upon the edge of the forest,” Mairina nodded with a mischievous smile.

“Good, Sabia did you bring the maps?”

“They are in my leather pouch,” Sabia answered, running her fingers through her long hair.

“Innis the mud and clothes?”

“They are hidden alongside the tools in the forest,” Innis smiled, her pure green eyes filled with excitement.

“Are we all willing to abide by the new plans?” Maethilda asked her company.

“Anything to outdo Muta and his pups,” Sabia smiled with determination.

“Good, they will be looking for women on their travels, little do they know that we will be going undercover,” Maethilda said with an air of authority. “No one must know of our plans, our foes will be on our hunt as soon as we begin, but it will be us that will be hunting them.”

“What if the organisers give us a false map?” Innis asked with a pensive gaze, her large hands upon her hips.

“Don’t worry, we have a spy who will provide us with the right information,” Maethilda said with a wink in Evalean’s direction. Evalean immediately blushed in response. “We must prove ourselves, if we do not then all we have worked hard for will be discarded.”

“We will not fail!” Evalean said with a smile. “Just look at the men, all their fearful eyes upon us.”

The company immediately turned their gazes to the groups of men, who were all hunched together, whispering amongst themselves, their eyes upon the them. Close to them, Morad stood with the group representing clan Kios. Maethilda knew that out of all the men, it would be Morad she would have to outwit, for he knew her too well and knew her capabilities in outwitting her enemies, including him. She would need to rid the games of his team first before taking on the others and she knew he wouldn’t so readily forgive her for it, but the game of survival is rarely fair and just. If she was to prove herself to him then they had to fight as equals. Standing together, the elders of Summe walked down to the open land which lay several miles south outside of the city. Great tents had been erected, housing the clan’s chiefs and their advisors. The summe tent, which its distinctive green flag lay close to the pickets. Behind the tents stood the large crowd of onlookers, shouting out to their chosen group, words of support and some words of insult to others.

“I should say goodbye to Aabe before we leave,” Evalean said under her breathe.

“Be quick, the elders are coming onto the field,” Maethilda warned.

“I will be five minutes!”

Maethilda watched Evalean leave, her eyes fixed on her back as she made her way up the field towards Aabe. For a moment she watched them both talk between themselves, Aabes hands upon her shoulders, his eyes pensive and worried.

“How do you feel this morning?” a familiar voice asked. Maethilda turned her gaze to find Morad, clad in the dark green cloak of Kios. He was as ever, handsome and strong, his sword shining and the tips of his arrows glinting in the morning light.

“I am better,” Maethilda lied. Morad looked at her intensely, searching her face for a sign.

“Maethilda this game, you can still opt out you know,” Morad said with sincere eyes. “I am worried for your safety, Muta and Gida have placed bets upon you returning a cripple. Please think about this seriously.”

“Are you trying to scare me into submission Morad?” Maethilda asked plainly, her hand upon the hilt of her sword. “For it will not work. I am their match in strength and capability, you know this. Why would we willing bend before the pride of men?”

“I do not want them to hurt you,” Morad whispered hotly.

“There biggest failing is in underestimating me,” Maethilda said with an authority gaze. “Do not also underestimate me Morad.”

“I have never underestimated you Maethilda, but Muta is strong and cunning, you cannot believe that his father and people will willingly allow you to enter their lands without harm?”

“I do not, which is why myself and my company are prepared for all types of inconveniences.”

“Inconveniences! This is your life we are talking about,” Morad groaned, his eyes flaring. “These men live for this game, they have no other purpose, but you…you are an heir to a kingdom, your life goes beyond these games.”

“You sound scared Morad,” Maethilda smiled lightly, wishing to change the subject. She knew the peril she had placed herself and her company in, but she wouldn’t give in to fear, she had not been brought up to give in to fear, and she had been raised to face it full on.

“I am scared for you Maethilda,” Morad said, his voice cracking. Before she could reply, Evalean joined them.

“Brother!” she smiled, wrapping her arms about Morad. “Are you excited?”

“I thought I told you to stay out of this Evalean?” Morad thundered, his gaze swiftly turning to Maethilda who simply shrugged.

“Why would I stay out of this for brother? I have trained for the last two years, I am ready,” Evalean said with ease.

“I have tried to change her mind also,” came another familiar voice. Everyone turned to Aabe, whose own face was grey and frustrated. “She will not be moved on the subject.”

“Why should she? She has every right to partake in this, she is as intelligent and strong as I,” Maethilda said with spirit. “Now if you will excuse us, I do believe the game is about to commence.” With a smile and wave, both Maethilda and Evalean walked away from Morad and Aabe and re-joined their group.

“You remember our plan, yes?” Morad said quietly under his breathe.

“Do not worry, I will not let them out of my sight,” Aabe replied before walking away.

Maethilda stood with the rest of her company as the elders came to stand before the groups. A young servant handed out the maps to each of the groups before returning to his master. Anvin looked on at the competitors with a heavy brow.

“You all know the rules of the game, should any of these rules be broken you will face the consequences, no matter your clan or social standing,” he said loudly, his voice clear and authoritive. Maethilda observed the elderly priest, dressed in a navy blue gown, decorated the falling leaves. As though feeling her gaze upon him, Anvin turned to her. “You all play as equals and acts of violence towards each other will be punished accordingly. I expect you to be vigilant and honourable as is your station. You each will be handed a map in which the locations of the flags are marked. You have seven days in which to collect as many flags as possible. On the seventh day you will make for the island of Fyrth to seek the golden cup of Glentaire. Those who receive the cup will be crowned the winners, those who collect no flags but only the cup shall be forfeited from the games. When you hear the sound of the horns, the game will commence.” Anvin stood back and re-joined the seven other clan chieftains and smiled at Maethilda before turning his gaze away from her.

“Are you ready pickets?” Maethilda asked her company, all now upon their horses. The woman, armoured and seated nodded. Behind them seven horns blew and the groups kicked their horses into a fierce gallop. Maethilda rushed forwards beside her companions and quickly turned her gaze to find Morad’s. With a smile she directed her company away from the other groups and towards the forest of Summe.




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