CHAPTER 15 — LEOLYN (Part I)
Dornwick was the kingdom most frequently attacked by Elethra, famously known in Velecor as the Unfettered Four. My father was led into a trap by them. When the attacks became unbearable and our economy stood on the brink of collapse, he agreed that, in exchange for trade with Elethra and the cessation of all hostilities, he would allow them entry into the interior of Dornwick.
The attack was swift and well planned. Father was in Central Velecor, attending a funeral hosted by Daemon himself. That was when they struck. A coordinated assault, so precise and overwhelming that all our loyalists were defeated. The citizens offered no resistance either. To them, Elethra was their saviour. Elethra had delivered them from starvation.
And so, the Royal House of Dornwick was hunted by the very people we had strived to protect. Our yellow banner bearing the claw of a dire wolf burned from every tower. They stormed the castle in great numbers, searching for us. Father was nowhere to be found, and I had to take the lead.
But I was powerless. I could not outmuscle a great crowd, even if they were unarmed. So I ran, believing my family would be just behind me. But the others stayed. Most of them were Blessed, yet that did not matter either. One by one, they fell before the overwhelming mob. My father's second wife was raped to death, and two of my siblings had their heads mounted upon spikes.
Only four members of the House of Fangs remain. My mother, Geldryn. My twelve-year-old half-sister, Kellyn. And, luckily, the spare, Hyster, who is only eight. Heliars and Haliars were the two who died fighting the mob. The twins were strong despite being only fifteen. Sometimes I found myself jealous of them, and at the same time, proud.
My kingdom has been returned to me. My father's powers are now mine. I am betrothed to a beautiful and powerful lady. My family will soon be released at the cost of Emon.
Yet something still itches at the back of my mind.
Would the people of Dornwick even want a Blaran back upon the throne?
Father always said the citizens were always right. For that reason alone, I will not remember their sins above my own. Ever since I learned to walk, I wanted nothing more than to become like Father. But if I am to be accepted by my people and build a stronger nation, I must break away from his ideals.
I am now an enemy of Velecor, and Dornwick is officially part of Elethra. Since there are five of us now, perhaps a change of name would be fitting. I wondered what Emon would think.
A few minutes after we departed Newttis, Candor and several Firehawks gave chase. They were the unit sent to arrest the gravedigger. I doubt Candor was truly part of that force. More likely, he had been tracking our movements and followed with his own men after we departed.
What would Daemon think?
His heir had been kidnapped with the aid of the very man he had spared from death.
Emon was worth more than my entire family put together.
I trusted Daemon would not act recklessly.
My thoughts were interrupted by a knock at my chamber door.
"Come in."
A maid named Liaer stepped inside.
"Your Grace, what may I prepare for you to eat?" she asked boldly.
It had been three days since we left Newttis, yet I had eaten nothing. The weight of my actions served as both sustenance and burden.
"You should eat something. The Queen would be angry with me if I failed to convince you."
"Does the Queen always become angry like that?" I asked curiously.
My betrothed and I had met only three days ago. I knew almost nothing about her. More astonishing still, she was the Queen of Vestelle, though no one had ever spoken of such a queen. We knew only of the succession of male monarchs who had ruled Vestelle, all of whom seemed to share the same ideals.
The maid hesitated before answering.
"That is not for me to say, Your Grace. May the wind favour you."
"I shall have no food. Only water. May the wind favour you."
Water was life. It is said a man can survive without food far longer than he can without water.
After drinking half the cup, I slammed it onto the table, nearly splashing myself. I rose from the soft, rumpled bed and walked toward the window, almost twisting my ankle against the mattress's softness.
The serene beauty of Vestelle never failed to impress.
Birds of every kind perched upon blossoms. Dornwick was no wasteland, so I recognised many of the flowers. The rest, those unknown to me, seemed like pristine works of nature, blooms that could only spring from the fertile soil of Vestelle.
At the centre of that beautiful grove stood the Stony Vineyard—a palace worthy of the rulers of this magnificent forest kingdom.
But I had more pressing matters to consider.
Emon.
Perhaps I had betrayed him.
Yet I did not regret my actions.
Not yet.
Hardening my heart, I made my way toward the dungeon.
The corridor leading there was narrow. Every step felt as though I were sinking deeper beneath the sea, drowning beneath the weight of my own choices.
Still, I continued.
The first prisoner I passed could not have been older than thirty. Judging by his appearance, madness had already claimed him. He used small pebbles to sketch strange runic symbols across the floor, none of which struck a chord within me.
Even so, I imagined Emon in his place.
The thought unsettled me.
The next cell lay silent.
Grey hair.
The sight alone quickened my heartbeat. Sweat gathered upon my brow as I slowly approached.
"Who goes there? May the wind favour you. Please... permit me only a drop of water."
The voice was old and crooked.
Surely that could not be Emon.
I stepped closer until I reached the bars.
The hair was grey.
But it was not his.
Relief washed over me.
Footsteps echoed through the passage as a lantern's glow pushed back the darkness. The prison guard was old, yet he still carried himself like a veteran soldier.
"Who dares follow the wind here?" he demanded.
"'Tis I, Leolyn Blaran. I seek the cell of your most important prisoner."
"Follow me."
He led me deeper into the dungeon until he pointed toward the final cell.
It was different.
Better lit.
Cleaner.
Even from three cells away, I could feel the difference.
Calm settled over me.
At least he had been given a proper chamber.
My heavy footsteps became lighter as I hurried toward him.
By the earth...
What was I even supposed to say?
"Leolyn?"
A weak voice called out before I reached the bars.
I recognised it immediately.
Emon's.
"I could hear the hesitation in your footsteps," he said dryly. "You're the only friend I have here, after all."
His head had been shaved clean to the scalp. Bruises covered his face. His once-regal clothes hung in tatters, the white fabric now stained red and brown. Though he had been given a bed, his wrists remained chained securely to its frame as he lay upon his back.
"Friend... could you write to my father? Tell him to hurry. Tell him... I might soon give up."
I tried to speak, but he cut me off.
"Maybe he won't. I've always been a burden to him—a political problem, so to speak. The nobles favour my brother. They think I'm weak. The academy roof fell on my head. I lost the gold in my hair. And now... now I have truly done it. I may have even lost Talia's favour, especially after breaking my vows."
Sadness weighed upon every word.
My knees gave way beneath me.
"What happened?"
Ignoring my question, he continued.
"What would I name the child? Would they even let me see my own child? If I'm released in time... would the child come with me? So many questions."
He fell silent before finally asking,
"Leolyn... what brings you here?"
The way leading to the dungeon where he was held was narrow. I felt as though I was drowning, and each step forward was like diving deeper into the ocean. Still I went on, drowning in my desire to set things right.
I passed through the first cell in the dungeon. A man, not more than thirty, was locked up. And by the look of things, he was almost mad. He used pebbles to draw various runic symbols, none of them striking a chord in my mind. Even after I saw him, I imagined Emon in his place—it made me unsettled.
The next cell was silent. Grey hair. I saw grey hair and it made my heart beat faster. Sweat beaded on my face and my hand twitched as I tried to approach the cell.
"Who goes there? The wind favour you. Please permit me only a drop of water," said a crooked old voice.
Surely that can't be Emon?
I drew slowly to the bars of the dimly lit cell. The hair was grey, but it was not him. Relief washed over my body.
Footsteps suddenly approached and with them came light from a lantern. The prison guard was old but clearly gallant.
"Who dares follow the wind here?" he said angrily.
"'Tis I, Leolyn Blaran. I need directions to the cell of your most important inmate," I said frankly.
"Follow me."
The guard took me deeper into the dungeon. When we reached it, his strong fingers pointed at the last cell. The cell was clearly different from the others. It was better lit and had a certain warmth to it. I was three cells away and I could feel it. I felt calm, knowing that at least he was in a decent cell.
My heavy steps became light as I walked briskly to reach him.
By the earth, what would I even say?
"Leolyn?"
A weak voice called out as I almost reached the cell. I recognised it. 'Twas Emon's.
"I could feel the reluctance in those steps. You're the only friend I have here, after all," he said dryly.
His hair was shaved down to the scalp. His face was bruised, his regal clothes had become tattered, the white that once stood out most in the cloth now stained with red and brown. He had been given a bed, but his hands were chained to the frame as he lay on his back.
"Friend, could you write to my father? Tell him to hurry. Tell him I might soon give up."
I wanted to speak, but he held my tongue.
"Maybe he won't. I've always been a burden to him, a political problem so to speak. The nobles favour my brother, think I'm weak. The academy's roof fell on my head, I lost the gold in my hair, and now... now I have truly done it. I might have even lost Talia's favour, especially now that I've broken my vows."
Sadness accompanied his words and I fell to my knees.
"What has happened?"
Without regard for my question, he continued.
"What would I name the child? Would they even let me see him? Will he follow me back if I'm released, if he's born in time? So many questions."
He paused for a while before continuing.
"Leolyn, what has brought you here?"
His eyes were downcast as he asked.
"I came to talk."
Emon shook his head in satisfaction.
"Leolyn, I didn't know you were not blessed. I understand your motives. Your family in exchange for me, your father's power, your kingdom and a beautiful bride to top it off. I understand, Leolyn. You were a pathetic loser and you saw a chance and took it. I can't fault you for that."
Emon coughed before continuing.
"I'm pathetic too, that I know. And that's why I'll try not to understand your motives. Your actions, our actions led us here. It was a collective failure, but now, your treachery has given me the anchor that'll hold my own failure in this," he said painfully but determinedly.
"Emon, I am..."
Again he cut me off.
"But I don't still hate you. If I hate you, that means I'll hate Caster. My brother is more selfish than you."
Emon gave a dry laugh.
"I am much too self-aware and too self-critical to blame only you. So don't worry. I even doubt this event would change me greatly," he said, then chuckled.
"Leolyn," Emon called out. "From the way the guards speak, I take it we're in Vestelle," he asked with a confused look. "How are we in Vestelle?"
Vestelle lies on the southernmost part of the continent. Travelling there on foot would be gruesome. You'll have to go through Dornwick and Nordmere. Ellynore, the Great Canyon, runs from the south almost to the northern borders of Nordmere and Thalbruck—a natural defence protecting Elethra from the Velecor Empire.
"Sailing by ship would mean travelling through almost the entire length of the continent, but that's unlikely. The pass in the Klayr Sea is protected by Celmora, Central Velecor, and Lothaine," he explained. "Do me this one favour, Leolyn.Tell me," Emon asked tenderly.
I gasped, then replied, "It's been three days, Emon. I'm sorry."
Emon looked defeated. "If the winds are good, Father's men may reach here in three weeks' time." Emon suddenly grinned.
"Could you at least implore the Queen to give me more hospitable accommodation? Surely I have a little diplomatic immunity here, no?"
Indeed, his treatment here has been bad. His hair was cut to the skin. He was... Who have I pledged my future to? "I'll try, Emon," I said reassuringly. "I'll be going, then."
For some reason, I felt more at ease as I left. Not until I heard Emon muttering to himself, "Three more weeks, three more weeks. If things don't change, I might have seen my family and Talia for the last time. Luckily my mouth is not bound. If I bite my tongue, I could end it all," he said bitterly.
Guilt rushed back to me, but I had more assurance now. If I help him now, he will become more endeared to me. The best way to build something up is by first destroying it. It was good of that woman to have listened to my suggestions.
A wry smile spread across my face. Emon was on an honoured list. I hated hurting people I considered precious. The path I have set for him—perhaps death would be the better option for him. Not yet, though. Not yet.
He will die when his death serves me, no sooner. After all, he's the most powerful piece I have yet.
I could feel the guilt running through me again. I would not cast my guilt away; having these feelings makes me remain the Leolyn my family knows.
But for the sins against the people of Dornwick, for the blood of my father, I will make Daemon Clovis suffer.