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Chapter 1:- Prologue
The waves tossed their long boat high upon the swell and jarred they suddenly as they bow collided with the flotsam of his discarded cargo. His hands already slick with the blood of battle were washed in the spray that came over the prow. Some of the strongest swimmers among them had jumped head long into the surf and were now jettisoning the cargo in order to make room for the dozens of refugees.
As his body lurched forward he turned back to view the ashen faces of the men and women he ferried across to his ships. She sat with uncanny stillness, placid in her faith amid a stormy sea, with her arms draped around a young girl.
“Remember him well,” she whispered to her. “He is all that stands between our people and oblivion"...
Prologue
The first time she saw him, cradled in sheltering arms that could not save her as well as his sword. When they stood again on the safety of dry ground he promised to protect her and her people always. For many years they lived in peace if not prosperity. The killings stopped and their fortunes rose. Many of her kind left the shelter of the mountains to once again seek commerce and communal life amongst the people who once persecuted them.
Now she stood with her arms round her own child wishing for even the smallest glimpse of him
He warned her that if ever there came a time when he could no longer protect them, to watch for the wings of the raven and take heed. She watched the gathering of dark birds collect upon her roof, their numbers growing to an alarming degree, as if fatigue and languor felled them from the sky giving no voice to their mission. The ravens flocked together as one creature until the bleached blonde the thatched roof became an inky black that fluttered and swarmed as each sought purchase. The guardian warned them of such a sight and her heart turned cold.
The woman watched in morose fascination unable to move lest she anger the creatures. When the last of raven took its station upon the roof, all eyes turned toward her as if she had summoned them. The largest of the black birds descended to her as if she were holding court to their macabre presence. Upon its leg was the brass ring of its master with a slender curl of parchment. With trembling fingers she accepted the proffered missive.
The message was brief and uncharacteristically clear. The woman fingered the strand of blue stones at her neck and shuddered. Their missive delivered, the ravens quickly dispersed and returned from whence they came. On her knee rested head of her only child, adorned with a glory of warm brown curls so much like her own. With eyes the very color of the living stones that encircled her neck, the child’s face was the image of angelic innocence at rest. The stones were a gift from her people and the heart of mountains that had long sheltered them.
“It has begun,” she whispered.
With shaking fingers she pulled the stones from her neck, knowing that their restful blue green color must now be a frosty white as the stones turned to ice in her hands. She plucked her necklace pieces, tucking the fragments into a leather pouch. Then she thought of the crystal blue depths resting behind that fringe of dark lashes exhausted from absorbing the wonder of the world. This child was hope, the living expression of her faith. She tucked the pouch beneath the curling grasp of innocent fingers and brushed a light kiss a smooth brow.
Another dark age was about to descend. She wondered if she would have done anything differently if she had known this season of prosperity was to be so short lived. How many much time would pass before another rose up to protect them? Bending forward she pressed a tender kiss on the tiny brow that was the living expression of all her hopes.
“Forgive me for laying upon you this burden. I know that you will not fail. Remember no matter what happens I shall protect you.”
Even as she said the words she knew they were a lie. She would not live long enough to see her child grow tall. Engle was no more.
The waves tossed their long boat high upon the swell and jarred they suddenly as they bow collided with the flotsam of his discarded cargo. His hands already slick with the blood of battle were washed in the spray that came over the prow. Some of the strongest swimmers among them had jumped head long into the surf and were now jettisoning the cargo in order to make room for the dozens of refugees.
As his body lurched forward he turned back to view the ashen faces of the men and women he ferried across to his ships. She sat with uncanny stillness, placid in her faith amid a stormy sea, with her arms draped around a young girl.
“Remember him well,” she whispered to her. “He is all that stands between our people and oblivion"...
Prologue
The first time she saw him, cradled in sheltering arms that could not save her as well as his sword. When they stood again on the safety of dry ground he promised to protect her and her people always. For many years they lived in peace if not prosperity. The killings stopped and their fortunes rose. Many of her kind left the shelter of the mountains to once again seek commerce and communal life amongst the people who once persecuted them.
Now she stood with her arms round her own child wishing for even the smallest glimpse of him
He warned her that if ever there came a time when he could no longer protect them, to watch for the wings of the raven and take heed. She watched the gathering of dark birds collect upon her roof, their numbers growing to an alarming degree, as if fatigue and languor felled them from the sky giving no voice to their mission. The ravens flocked together as one creature until the bleached blonde the thatched roof became an inky black that fluttered and swarmed as each sought purchase. The guardian warned them of such a sight and her heart turned cold.
The woman watched in morose fascination unable to move lest she anger the creatures. When the last of raven took its station upon the roof, all eyes turned toward her as if she had summoned them. The largest of the black birds descended to her as if she were holding court to their macabre presence. Upon its leg was the brass ring of its master with a slender curl of parchment. With trembling fingers she accepted the proffered missive.
The message was brief and uncharacteristically clear. The woman fingered the strand of blue stones at her neck and shuddered. Their missive delivered, the ravens quickly dispersed and returned from whence they came. On her knee rested head of her only child, adorned with a glory of warm brown curls so much like her own. With eyes the very color of the living stones that encircled her neck, the child’s face was the image of angelic innocence at rest. The stones were a gift from her people and the heart of mountains that had long sheltered them.
“It has begun,” she whispered.
With shaking fingers she pulled the stones from her neck, knowing that their restful blue green color must now be a frosty white as the stones turned to ice in her hands. She plucked her necklace pieces, tucking the fragments into a leather pouch. Then she thought of the crystal blue depths resting behind that fringe of dark lashes exhausted from absorbing the wonder of the world. This child was hope, the living expression of her faith. She tucked the pouch beneath the curling grasp of innocent fingers and brushed a light kiss a smooth brow.
Another dark age was about to descend. She wondered if she would have done anything differently if she had known this season of prosperity was to be so short lived. How many much time would pass before another rose up to protect them? Bending forward she pressed a tender kiss on the tiny brow that was the living expression of all her hopes.
“Forgive me for laying upon you this burden. I know that you will not fail. Remember no matter what happens I shall protect you.”
Even as she said the words she knew they were a lie. She would not live long enough to see her child grow tall. Engle was no more.
