WORRLGENHALL (117 page)

 
      “How do you know he will hear me?”

 
      “There is always a shield protecting it,” the seer revealed her understanding of some of her visions, “Sometimes even surrounding it.”

 
      Tagia mockingly laughed.

 
      “Riddles,” she then scoffed, “It is far from the time for them.”

 
      The seer looked right into Tagia’s eyes, although not able to see into them herself because she was blind. She wanted to make her words clear, as she spoke them through a clinched jaw hoping to reach her sense of reason.

 
      “The king that marches against us; reach out to him,” the seer undoubtedly knew and advised, “He will hear you.”

**

       Aderac waited in bed for Belon, reading from books he brought with him from WorrlgenHall.

 
      “You will strain those wonderful green eyes of yours,” Belon said when he came inside. “The light in our tent is to dim.”

 
      “This light is just fine,” Aderac replied, as he put his book away.

 
      Belon picked up the book he read and pursed his lips. “Of all the books you possess you read from this one -”

 
      “More than curious I have become,” Aderac said, “To learn more of the bloodlines of Worrlgen since it began.”

 
      “Why?”

 
      “It is something to do,” Aderac lied, but in truth he had began reading several of the accounts at Worrlgen while held to his bed noticing many of the writings on the
dark season
, someone had torn out pages or blotted through, which peaked his curiosity.

 
      Belon looked at him, noticing Aderac diverted his eyes. “You hold back…”

 
      “Grandfather spoke of the
dark season
,” Aderac said, “And of a child that died that could have brought it about, but in truth I believe he lived.”

 
      “Who?”

 
      Looking considerately at Belon, he knew it was not the time for such revelations or suspicions. They had a troublesome kingdom to deal with.

 
      “Another day…” he said, as he pulled back the furs.

 
      Belon let the matter go, climbed into bed, and pulled Aderac close.

 
      “Those from Celgon are moving slowly,” he said, as he gave him a kiss, “From Cyorec’s messages and messages from our scouts.”

 
      “They can move as slow as they wish. I am no rush to have my men die,” Aderac’s reply, as he snuggled close.

 
      “No good king ever is.”

 
      “And I am in no rush, to have my love put in perils way either.”

 
      Belon gave Aderac an adoring kiss, offering no comment, then as both men lay pressed comfortably close like always to sleep, unable to drift right off, they lay awake lost in their thoughts.

 
      “Of all the battles I have fought,” Belon finally spoke his thoughts, “Not once have I felt fear until…”

 
      “Fear…”

 
      “Fear of leaving this life. This life of true happiness I have with you.”

 
      Aderac remained silent, but when he sniffled, Belon knew he had quietly begun to weep.

 
      “My heart,” he said softly, and cuffed his large hand under Aderac’s chin, “I did not mean to make your eyes fill with tears.”

 
    “I know, honey.”Aderac sniffled, and lowered his head before digging it into Belon’s neck, “But…”

 
      “Ssshh,” Belon shushed before, although it seemed impossible, pulling him even closer to his body, “Sleep.”

**

       Tagia wasted not a moment in doing what her seer suggested and rising early that morning, dispatched a secret message.

 
      Knowing Atorad would have it intercepted, she addressed it to King Borlos of the Vells and included in the letter words she knew would entice Atorad.

 
      After she wrote her fake message, she then wrote her real message and smuggled it out hidden in the hem of one of the gardeners.

 
      When she was just a little girl her father would take her on long excursions along the Rayen Lake and after her father died, over the years a kind old man she trusted still tended to the hall and grounds there.

 
      She allowed him freely to live there as long as he maintained the hall and its grounds, and hoped the letter would reach him and he would act duly.

 
      Atorad, true to his nature did indeed have the letter intercepted and after reading it, amused by the silliness of Tagia pleading for refuge with the Vells by offering her hand again in marriage and tempting him with Celgon’s hidden wealth. She also added that on their wedding night, he would be entering chaste walls.

 
      Atorad thought the letter amusing as he burned it, but the realization that he had been so preoccupied with his plans for warring with Worrlgen, he had not as much as touched her and consummated their marriage, now concerned him.

 
      “I shall deflower you soon enough,” he said to himself as her letter turned to ashes in the fireplace before his eyes, “Then soon enough choke the life out of you.”

**

 
      Although nothing had happened on the other side of the Cag Plains with Ivodgald against Celgon, that wasn’t true for Worrlgen.

 
      A fierce battle between Worrlgen and Segorans lasted two days and nights, but as dawn approached on the third day, Worrlgen’s triumphant shout roared high as high guilds forced Arh to bow his knee to King Baric.

 
      With disdain and on his knees, his sons among those slain, Arh refused to look at King Baric as he stood in front of him. His hands bound behind his back, his clothes and body stained with blood, it was obvious he fought fiercely, but for what purpose. 

 
      “Why?” Baric’s question.

 
      No words came from his mouth, but his sneer gave his contemptuous answer, yet because he lost both sons in the battle, Baric decided to spare his life and sell him to traders, instead of putting him to death.

 
      “I spare you life and still you show no respect to me. I will grant you no war rights.”

 
      Indignantly, as they hauled him to his feet to take him away, when he passed one of the priests that traveled with Worrlgen, who blessed the men for battles and blessed their dead, he spat in his face, which now enraged Baric.

 
      “You have spat one time to many.” Baric’s angered words, as he withdrew his sword to execute him with his own hands.

 
      “Arh of the Land of the Hills, under my reign as King of Worrlgen, I sentence you to death.”

 
      With a swift swipe of his sword, Baric cut off Arh’s head, and held it high to his warriors.

 
      “Send it to King Gegorad,” he said after he did. “With words to bow his knee to me or his head will soon follow.”

 
      When they hauled Arh’s body away, Laad stood next to Baric.

 
      “Our fight with Hemrock will not be as easily won,” Baric voiced.

 
      Laad looked at him, confident in his king and in his will to defend his home and kingdom, he was well aware of the fate of all he loved within WorrlgenHall if they failed. “But won it will be.”

**

       “There is an old man who begs a word with the king.”

 
      Belon jumped to his feet out of his chair next to Aderac, even before he could say yes or no.

 
      “Take me to him.”

 
      Aderac didn’t reply, he simply smiled and broke eyes from his book to look up at Belon, who bent down to kiss the top of his head.

 
      After sheathing Raudgred, he pulled his cloak over his shoulders and walked out of their tent to ride out to the man.

 
      Four men guarding him, he stood obviously afraid and when he saw Belon riding towards him; it magnified two fold when he saw the stern expression on his face and because he looked like a giant.

 
      Belon looked at him before he spoke, and even took the time to jump from his horse, and gathering Belon was not the king, the old man did however know that whoever he was, was one of authority and what came out of his mouth was as if the king spoke it himself.

 
      “I beg you,” he humbled himself, as held his hand out to give him the letter, “I have a message from Queen Tagia of Celgon.”

 
      Belon looked at him for a long time, debating whether he wanted to refuse it. The man obviously old and frightened, he softened and sighed, then took it.

 
      “Put him by the fire and feed him,” he finally said, as he jumped back onto his horse to leave.

 
      Eagerly waiting, when Belon returned, Aderac sat up quickly. “What word?”

 
      “This,” he answered, as he dusted the light falling snow off his cloak and gave the letter to Aderac.

 
      “You did not break the seal?”

 
      “The letter is to the king.” Belon smiled, followed by another kiss to his head, then turned to warm his hands by the fire.

 
      Curiously, Aderac broke the seal, read the message several times, stood and walked to the fire. Casually he tossed it onto the embers, then went to one of his small tables and wrote only a few words, before folding the paper, and extending his hand to give it to Belon.

 
      “Dare I ask?”

 
      Aderac looked up, as Belon leaned to kiss his lips. “Read for yourself.”

 
      Belon opened the folds, the pursed his lips noticing Aderac’s reply was in Latin. “Aderac…”

 
      “I know you know how to read Latin well enough now,” Aderac said flatteringly, “Do not look at me like that.” 

 
      Belon looked at the paper and his eyes squinted on the words. He could see them clearly, but the squint was to concentrate on understanding them.

 
      “
A serpent cannot remove its own head,
” Belon read aloud.

 
      Aderac gave him a rewarding long kiss. “Well done honey.”

 
      “Do you believe she will know how to read it and what it means?”

 
      “She will.” Aderac believed, “She is the only daughter, and I gather much of her time was learning as her brothers prepared to rule as lords.”

 
      “I will not be long.”

 
      Belon rode back to the old man. This time his face less fierce when rode to him, he eased slightly in his worry, and waiting warm and fed by the fire helped his tension.

 
      “Take it,” Belon handed it to him, “Men will see you safely back to Celgon’s border.”

 
      “Commander,” the man quickly said, when he took it, “Beside the lake is a hall only a few launches away. When close please come to it for a warm place for your king to rest.”

 
      Belon looked at him again for a long time; but something about his words seemed sincere.

 
      “It is something I shall reason.”

**

 
      My Ov,

 
      I long for you and love you

 
      Vol

       Ovfren read the letter, softly sighed and tucked it into to his boot. The words were short and simple, but spoke volumes.

 
      “You did well against the Segoran’s,” Ogorec said, as he sat next to Ovfren, who was setting up his bedding for the night.

 
      Ovfren nodded, remembering how the men charged towards them fiercely from two sides.

 
      “I know you watched me,” he said, as he gently touched his knee.

 
      “True,” Ogorec breathed in softly, “And I did not need to come to you once.”

 
      “You do need to come to me.” Ovfren smiled, “And as much as you can.”