Tales of Aesia

The clouds looked beautiful, floating through the sky. Adria could just imagine that small puff of cloud, right there in the centre forming a horse as she gazed out from the balcony. Becoming bored of watching the clouds, she turned her to rolling flatlands brimming with fields of wheat, barley and other crops, their ofgolden kernels shining in the blazing afternoon sun.

Fortunately, from her position atop the watchpoint she could easily sit behind a merlon to avoid the rays that constantly beat down upon the city of Havanor. It’s buildings of light grey granite with sporadic speckles of blue within the stone, like small shards of the sea trapped within stone. She's never seen the sea even though she had travelled to the human land. Blue as far as the eye can see. I will see it. She felt trapped her that feeling was never stronger than when returning home from hunting trips. Each building joined together to form a square with the lower wider levels containing the structures required for commerce and the successful maintenance of city while the upper levels contained the dwellings for the people of the city. Her people the houses with larger windows to create a homey atmosphere.

As you progressed upwards, each level become narrower and sunk further into the mountain following. The perfect defense and from her limited viewings of other cities it seeThe perfect way to get around without being seen, that is if you where agile enough to move across the rooftops. However it was also extremely useful in terms for warfare due to the fact that archers placed on the rooftops had a clear view or any enemies below them. It also served a darker purpose. The sloped structure allowed for thieves to easily avoid capture by the guards. Though, she had never encountered one even at night times.

She sighed letting out a lungful of air. Why do I have freckles? Corgal says they add another level of complexity to my features. But he’s just being kind. " It matches the topaz in the rock and shows you are a true dwarf."

She would usually be in the drill yard practicing her sword skills against anyone who dared fight her. How she longed to be in armour with the reassuring weight of a sword in her hand even if it was a weighted wooden one. Can't let the princess get hurt now can we? Watching every movement her opponent made to try and discern a way to get past their guard and land a hit. The twitch of hand, the brief stopping of all movement, that knowledge would give her the ability to win. A fair hand at sword fighting she much preferred archery, not shooting immovable boards but crouching through the reeds or the undergrowth of a forest patiently drawing her bow and loosening an arrow. Waiting, for the familiar thud as it pierces hide or fur.

She was brought back from a reminiscing, lifting of her long ash brown hair to obscure her periwinkle blue eyes and, " knew you’d be up here again". She turns her head round to she the same sly curved smile her brother always gives, one side curving higher than the other. His brown eyes matched hers and always gleamed brighter.That smile would make anyone happy. She can’t help but mirror it.

Then she suddenly bursts into laughter, remembering why she was up here in the first place. "How’s Orgar? He most likely didn't even notice I wasn’t there, you know how he gets once he starts talking about the ancient histories, he just goes on and on."

"You shouldn’t be so glad", he half-jokingly rebuking her, his voice gaining a hint of reproach "he was fuming, going on about how learning history allows us to break the chains of the previous ways of thinking which are holding us back and therefore move forward as a greater more advanced race."

"Breaking the chains." She scoffed, "All he’s doing is forcing me to fill my head with useless trivia that has no practical use. I’ll much rather hunt, play chess or even read stories. Like the one about Hrothgar the first king of dwarves, how he felled great Feors with single swings of his hammer or Lethlea who slew countless dark ones with her flaming sword.

Using the trump card to end all disagreement, Corgal says,"of course, father thinks it is useful. Even you can’t persuade him to stop the lessons. On that note the reason I came was to get you." The sly smile returning larger than before, "We can’t have injuring yourself, then what would poor handsome Teldar do? He came all the way from Gelheim just to see you."

She stares him and says while grinding her teeth so she can barely be heard ' I’ve had enough of them already, they come with pretty words and gifts. None of them know anything about me or our people and they don’t want to, all they want is to marry me for father’s name."

Before she can carry on, he remarks "He may be different, people say he is a kind and gentle soul."

"I want someone who has fiery passion not some timid boy in a man’s body. I just don’t want their passion to stop me from pursuing mine. Sometimes I wish I was a regular Dwarf then I’d be able to follow any path I desire. But no I was born into the nobility and so I have simper and laugh even when I feel like flinging the whole plate at their damm heads.’

Corgal replies in a terse tone ‘"We all have our places. We cannot choose.' He smiles quickly removing the terse atmosphere he had brought. 'Your picky, let’s get you back to your room, we play some chess. I know you won’t have long before you have to get ready. I know how long you women take to get dressed. But I won’t need that long to beat you.

"We’ll see about that."

They open the hatch and climb down the stone steps and out of the tower onto the road outside. Like all the roads in Havanor it is smooth and clean, the uppermost part of an network which runs throughout the mountain city like the branches of a tree all eventually converging into a road four carts wide which out of the city into the plains and beyond, allowing the goods to travel in and out of the city. Without this vital system transport and therefore trade would be much less prosperous.

The road splits into to main tributaries which outline the edges of the city while mainly small paths weave their way throughout the city.

Strolling at a leisurely pace they quickly reach The Hold which consists of a large conjoined building that takes up the whole level. The outside may be largely plain with only the faint speckles of blue adding life. However, the insides have intricate mosaics detailing dwarf histories. Images or dwarfs fighting dark shadowy shapes.

They enter through a sturdy oak door, walking down the single corridor lined with many more doors replicate of the one their entered through.Thick and sturdy on either side, further along the corridor she sees the hired help cleaning the already spotless ornaments . Opening the fourth door on their left, a faint veil of smoke assailed them, carrying along a sweet smell along with it, but inside there is a blanket of smoke surrounding

In a tone dripping with annoyance "I told her last time to not put the incense on, it fills the whole room and then I can’t stay in until it clears which took three hours last time."

Walking inside she opens the drawer by her bedside and removes a chess set made of maple and black walnut and a pouch containing the pieces. "Well, we’ll have to play in your room then,"’ she says matter-of-factly.

Blowing the candle as she exits the room. The walk past a few of the hands still cleaning the ornaments. As they walk a black-haired boy in a roughspun tunic and trousers he looks up and realises who they are, barely able to stammer out the words. "Ma’am Adria." Shocked to be addressed in such a way she just looks at him quizzically.

He reddened considerably stammering onwards, "Did… I say… something…?"

Brought back to her senses she asks, "Yes."

"Your father …wants to see you… right away." Overcoming some of his initial fear he continues in a more sturdy tone saying. "The librarian … Sir Orgar….' her eyes harden at his name. Though the boy does not seem to notice. 'Orgal, came in and complained to your father about you missing class.’ I wasn’t eavesdropping or anything, I was just in the hall cleaning.’

Smiling in thanks and they walk on on the smile being replaced by face lined with worry as she hurries on towards the Main Hall. The faster she gets to father the easier it will be to rectify this situation.

Turning left they enter an adjoining corridor that contains a large door well over twice their height flanked by two white marble statues, one man and one women clad in riveted chainmail the other in plate mail. Each contour clearly etched giving an impression of a lifelike being. The women can be easily distinguished by her flowing hair.

Placing her hand on the door smoothened by centuries of use. It moves smoothly on its hinges to grant an opening. The room has two long thick banquet tables with a red carpeted path leading towards the risen aisle were the seating for individual of rank are located all aligned to face the hall, heading centrally the granite seats get larger and larger until you reach the centremost seat which is an intricately carved specimen of beauty wrought into its stone sides are whirling patterns that entranced Adria for many hours as a child. At the moment she doesn’t have that luxury for seated on the throne is her father.

Only reaching her chin. He still exudes a solidity of a rock. Vehemently waving his arms in stark gestures displaying his annoyance is Orgar, the librarian. "She should receive appropriate punishment to stop this from…" He stops midway noticing that her father is not paying attention but is staring at his daughter with a stern expression lining his weathered face. Though his eyes still twinkle with merriment as they always do whenever he looks at her.

"So, you decided to play chess instead..’ Orgar says haughtily, gladly awaiting the hopeful punishment that awaits. She’d never liked Orgar but because he was the only teacher for the drab old history books, she had no choice

Only then does she notice the heft of the pouch of pieces and the chessboard tucked under her armpit. Glaring at him. In a surge of anger she retorts "I’m learning strategy while in your lessons I learn nothing. Nothing at all."

Orgar face reddens replies in anger, pointing an accusing finger at her, "Those books hold the lessons of centuries, within them is how histories," looking towards her father he continues an angry glint in his giving his normally grey eyes a dark overtone like a the sky before a storm. "Those histories are how we know how to be dwarves." He awaits her father’s response. Realisation dawns across her face, anger wells up within but she quenches it and turns towards her father. Her lips part to give an explanation but she stops by her father’s raised roughened hand, a scar diagonally across his palm.

In a controlled tone he silences any disagreement, ‘Orgar thank you coming to tell, I will discuss the situation with her alone, .’ As turns and walks away he still has the slight curved smile plastered on his square-like face.

As he closes the door behind him the sound echoing throughout the silence like a bell heralding the beginning of winter. Her father continues in the same tone only slightly tinged with warmness ‘ Why did you have to skip his lesson, he told me you only had fifteen minutes left, why couldn’t you just stay and survive, my daughter it can’t be that hard.' He only ever uses that tone hen he is annoyed.

It was and still is a waste of time.’ She tries to speak in a levelled voice but her frustration at the sheer stupidity leaks into her voice. ‘As you know I would rather do nearly anything else.’ Holding the board and pieces as evidence.

"I guess you already know about Teldan coming, so I know the perfect punishment". A sense of finality proceeds his statement as he says’ You wouldn’t be allowed to go on your regular hunt the day after, instead you’ll have a lesson with Orgar and then you’ll help clean the pots and pans after the guests.

Instantly she expresses her opposition to the idea. " need that to survive the rest of the day with him, please father I’ll do anything else."

His hand raises again the missing index finger apparent by the void its absence creates.

Raising the items in her hands to throw them on the floor she remembers that Corgal said that they’d have match which stills her. She returns the board and bag to her side turns round leaving the hall she can feel her father’s eyes watching her every step as she leaves the hall.

She storms towards her room, throwing the board and bag onto the bed she throws herself on the other side. I’m still going to hunt, there's no way I’ll be able to survive the day without. Further, supporting her rebellion is the fact that she has already groomed and prepared for the hunt. All she has to do is saddle and ride. The guards won’t be able to stop me if I’m on the horse. A smile crosses her face.

Having decided on a plan of action her mind empties of rage. "Don't, I know what that face means." says Corgal who had just entered the room. Instead it fills her with trepidation for the arrival of Teldar, hoping he’s not like the rest, careless bigots. The thin nosed one was the worst, silent and morose and the one from Geddac talked incessantly about himself, not giving me a chance the whole evening or the day when I was forced to be in with him for a whole day. How can relationships with such people better our Family?

A knock on the door jerks her back to reality. Standing straight and tall by the door is Nasuda the mistress, her perfectly rounded face, "It’s time" Adria replies curtly "He can’t be here already."

"Best to be prepared early, than not ready late.’ While saying this she moves towards the wardrobe which covers the left wall of the room and Corgal leaves. Drawing out and placing two armless dresses one of bright emerald green and another of deep rich lavender, both made from silk which is smooth and would provide a much needed coolness from the summer heat.

Through the dress is tight but not unseemingly and shows her strong body honed through countless hours of riding and training had trimmed any excess fat from her body. She could not comprehend the idea of being a slim thin stick of a women such as many dwarves were doing nowadays.

As her eyes glazed over lost in her thoughts, Nasuda quickly applied a slight dash of makeup. Then brought out her array of necklaces made from gold sliver and bronze, each with gemstone that twinkled as it was moved in the light, caged within an intricately wrought golden structure of a spiral design. She choose as always the necklace with an emerald set within a cage of sliver. Mother, she kisses the cage of silver gently.

That day had been one of true joy the running through the streets and fields, free as a flying bird. My Sixteenth nameday

Once all preparations had been completed she rose and together retraced the steps she had taken an hour ago. In that time the hall had been transformed to one of elaborate beauty. Hanging on opposite sides of the hall were the banners of each Family. A large brown Feors, a gigantic brown bear head with large black eyes over a sea of grass matching the emerald set within her necklace. The other banner consisted of crossed pickaxes over a layer of stones. How boring.

Many teardrop lamps had been set up along the room to give a jubilant atmosphere. She strode towards her seat beside her father . A change in routine as today was meant to be for her. She would have looked forward to it if a suitor was not present. As more guests enter and take their seats all wearing vibrant clothing displaying a wide variety of colours and materials. What caught her eye was the grey speckled fur coat someone wore. Snow leopard skin. Carrying her herself like a swan, neck tall graceful, eyes cast forward a cheerful glint which matches joyful turn off her lips. Shows that she knows she’ll gander the attention. By her side stout and solid wearing blue velvet tunic with black spotted cougar fur trimmings, grasping his hammer, Fenring in one hand with its burnished steel shining in the light illuminated by the teardrop lamps.

As her mother goes to her seat she remarks ‘ You look beautiful as always, my gem.’

Adria answers with a slow nod and a slight smile. Mother deserves that much. The drums sound heralding the arrival of the much-awaited guests. Won’t be long now. She imagines riding in the fields the wind flowing through her hair and rhythmic stampeding of hooves lulling her into her sea of tranquillity. A small smile curls upwards.

‘Finally, your looking forward to it.’ Before she can give a rash reply. The doors open again the guests from Teldar, males in green and females in orange. They walk towards the raised dais while everyone else stands in honour, some just to get a better look. Her father moves forward and grasps hands with black bearded dwarf of similar height. In a jovial tone her father says, " I expected you to be wearing chainmail not some fancy silks, Geral."

Geral, Teldan father, ""I would have if Teldan hadn't persuaded me otherwise." With that he turns towards his son, a taller man already than his father with a slighter build than usual for a dwarf and he green eyes that match hers but seem to contain a gentleness.

Next, her father shakes the hand of a youth who he brings towards Adria. As he closes the distance with long purposeful strides, she notices the absence of lines or scares upon his face. His hands look weathered. She can see strong calluses. A fighter who doesn't lose. Maybe he will be different. She beats down the emotion. Or, maybe not.

Clothed in fine silks as well. Her father locks eyes with her and that’s all the signal she needs.

Teldan bows respectfully low, stands straight every moment he makes seems rehearsed.. As if they meet by happenstance, he asks ‘My name is Teldan and yours

She puffs out some air in annoyance. 'Replying blandly ‘Adria’

At her tone he raises his left eyebrow. He sits down on the chair to her left and as her father, he asks in a whisper ‘ Have I done something to offend you, Adria?’ She whips her head round to look clearly into his eyes that hold only the curiosity about her reluctance.

Not giving him time to query her further. In come a horde of platter boys and girls carrying between them a vast variety of dishes from honeyed rabbit to stuffed peacocks. The usual platters of vegetables and berries The aromas of fresh bread and cooked meat The main attraction being the giant boar brought in through the main doorway due to its bulk. Carried by four kitchen boys who placed it just below the aisle. Where a meat carver stood ready to carve meat for those who required it. The curved blade they favour in his hand.

Adria who was still gazing around finally found it, noticeable by its glittering golden scales was a plate of golden salmon which was already heading her way. As it was placed before her she gladly took a piece and began to eat the juicy, sweet fish, masticating slowly as much to avoid conversation as to enjoy the food. She continued in this manner throughout the feast not uttering a single word.

She had a light head which she was annoyed to be reminded off and the servants by experience never poured wine for her, however, Teldan in clear delight at the vintage asked for a third filling. Though he did not seem to be eating much. Is he a drunkard? She knew they drank much and ate less.

As she finishes chewing the last bite. Teldan asks her, "What do you like to do". A prolonged silence follows until she must reply or seem uncourteous briskly says ‘Hunting.’

‘What have I done to displease you?’ His eyes search hers for an answer. He takes her continued silence as further evidence. ‘If there’s anything I can do to please you just mention it, if it is because you do not want my company then I will leave on the tomorrow.’

Battling to quiet the part of her that wants to agree profusely getting him to leave. She knows the repercussions that brief action would have. The inner turmoil subsides. Replying tartly ‘ No don’t leave it would cause many problems.’ There I’m not lying because it would cause problems. A smile spreads across his face at her words, she notices to double depressions he has on his cheeks side by side.

Gaining confidence, he asks ‘I’ve not hunted much as I like carving stone etching it into a thing of beauty.’ His voice drops ‘ Would you mind showing me how to hunt. It would be grateful if you could show me how.’

Father will have to allow me to hunt tomorrow now. ‘That’s the first time I’ve seen you smile’ he continues. Maybe he is different ‘ So will you?.’

‘Yes, I’d love to hunt.’ They begin to talk more amenably and Adria learns that he enjoys hunting even though he isn't very good at tracking.

Teldan stops talking and his blue eyes are wide in shock, she then hears her mother shouting for Cregan the healer her voice unusually shrill, Why would she…? Her question is answered by the sight of her father a quarrel lodged in his neck, driven so deep that it is holding his neck up which otherwise would be slumped. Blood leaks from his mouth dribbling down his chin.

She’s unable to accept it. Shouts of what’s happened and pounding footsteps as the guests run to get aid then, ‘I thought I saw something up there in the rafters." She looks up to see a person covered wholly in black , looking round for anything she can throw to dislodge him. She grasps her plate flings fish bones with a flick of her wrist then launches the plate at the masked individual. It flies straight and true but its to heavy to go far and lands to floor.

There’s only one way get out from the rafters and that leads to the main stairway on the second floor which exits onto the Center Road.

Rushing towards the doorway, she’s halted by the same two guardsmen upon noticing her the one on he left with a braided auburn beard ‘My Lady, you can’t leave the hall its not safe.’ As he approaches hand outstretched to placate her. She nimbly dodges to the left, plants her feet and pushes him, he reels back into his companion and she continues running.

The corridors blur as she runs past, until she passes a stone statue of her father beside the doorway. The image of her father’s vacant eyes. She thrusts it aside and strides out into the faint darkness of approaching night. Clearly visible is a figure riding down the wide Center Road. She follows, he must have heard her for he looks behind and upon noticing her his pace increases, his black coverings trailing behind him . The distance between them slowly begins to increase. She pumps her legs faster but her stomach churns in protest. The ache in her legs increases. If only she had a bow she could have shot him down.

Not far ahead is the stables and already saddled is a black courser. He vaults onto the horse and spurs the reins galloping heading towards the open gates. Grabbing her saddle from the hook on the wall she deftly saddles her horse, sensing her mood the stallion knickers and paws the ground. Setting of exactly as she settles in the saddle, seemingly gliding across the ground a graceful animal of raw lighting speed, its muscles rippling as each hoof lands. The surroundings blur, the exhilaration of riding, familiar but beautiful courses through her. For a moment she forgets why she is out here. But images of her father carry on trying

to invade her thoughts. 'Ride Windfall, ride' she whispers.

Only the ever-nearing trail of dust remains in focus, that is obscured by the forest of maples and beeches their stout trunks and wide spanning leaves creating a dark, sinister environment as she enters the forest, but her chestnut stallion to a fast trot, to avoid hazards upon the road, she’d rather not break her neck by being a clumsy rider,. The darkness encroaches as the feeble rays stream remaining silver of sun over the horizon.

A voice whispers, what are you doing? Turn back. She can’t hear the hoofbeats of the killer. She would look for footprints, the scant light nullifies this option. So, she strains her ears but no pounding hoofbeats.

Out of the darkness a shadow detaches itself from the branch and jumps, knife poised. Noting the movement her horse arches onto its hind legs and pivots, this manoeuvre saves her life for instead of piercing chest and the heart beneath the knife stabs a fiery line into her forearm. It burns but she grits her teeth The assassins forward momentum unhorses her and she hits the ground. Trying to get up with her ears ringing . She can see the knife moving down but she can’t move. Am I going to die?

The knife vanishes as if it was a dream. It was all a dream she tries but it’s futile. The pain pulsating from her head and forearm is too real, she turns her head swiftly but everything reels so she shuts her eyes for a few moments until it feels that the swaying as stayed.

As she opens them she is greeted with the still corpse of the intruder. The caved in pronounced curvature of spine is clear evidence of death but she moves slowly picks up the discarded knife, feeling more sure once she has crouched besides him and places a hand on the neck nothing. What happened? He looks like he had been flung against the nearby tree

Ripping a stripe of black cloth from his clothes she ties it tightly around her bleeding forearm. Pushing back the cloth to reveal a male face with a simple brown braided beard, small crop of matching hair blue eyes and a face etched in surprise at the suddenness of his death. A dwarf, but no one she recognises. Is features could be from the hunter tribe - he has the characteristic feature

She shouts in fury ‘Why? Why would you do?" while beating her closed hands against his chest. No longer seeing anything as she gives into her fury and sadness, tears stream down her face two small rivulets. Her thumping quickly turns into weakened taps and then her hands drop to her side. She collapsed in on herself, her body raked by her emotion shudders. They meet on the floor.

The anger and grief mingle and merge growing larger and larger pushing against its restraints until they give and the door bursts allowing the release of her emotions.

Lost in her grief, she doesn’t notice the swirling of wind, scattering fallen twigs, moving the dead dwarf a few feet, the horses knicker in protest while Adria on her knees is untouched by the raging winds, they leave as fast as they come and Adria falls to ground drifting into the depths of darkness before she touches the ground.

Strong hands hook under her armpits and lift her onto her feet, she tries to kick futilely but her feet only pass through air. ‘It’s over, you did a good job ,girl.’ On hearing the soft words she stops her trying to escape, there is only one person who calls her girl. Facing her is the Huntsmaster, a women of large build with a short bun of grey-silver hair that gleams in the dark. Adria asks ‘How’s is my father?’ Not knowing why she even asked for she knows in the recesses of her being that he’s dead.

Adria can’t bear to look into her eyes for she knows they’ll be full of pity, she stares of into the distance, her eyes growing watery. The Huntmaster says, "I left a few minutes after you did once everything was settled, or as much as they can be. Your mother and brother are distraught, worrying about you.’ Grabbing her arm she leads Adria to her towards her grey stallion.

Bluntly Adria says "He’s dead isn’t he.’ Her father’s gentle eyes, booming laughter and warm reassurances gone forever. Her heart squeezes. ‘Did you clean the wound.’ Adria doesn’t reply. The huntsmaster opens her saddle brings out a roll of linen and white ointment kept within a circular wooden container. Removing the cloth she pours water over her wound, the arm flares and Adria clenches her teeth. She feels as if she is watching it from above . The huntmaster applies the cream and covers it with a fresh bandage. Looking approvingly at Adria. Adria rises and approaches the black stallion. Unsaddling the horse, she places the saddle on the floor and removes all its contents, two more blades light sharp and adorned with only a black hilt. No markings of the blacksmith present. A loaf of brown bread, some hard cheese, and a waterskin. A heavy pouch which she opens to find brimming with gold coins stamped with the crest of a great oak tree. The silvery haired women peering over Adria shoulder exclaims ‘Hoaks gold, there’s enough here to buy land anywhere and live in luxury ,why would someone from Ancur pay to kill, the Lord of Havanor.’ Adria doesn’t care now she has a target for her vengeance.

Her continued efforts discover a scroll which she unrolls and reads ‘Kill the Lord of Havanor with whatever means possible and you will be richly rewarded, in the pouch is a small glimpse of what you will receive. In the bottom right corner stands a the waxed sigil of Hoaks a red oak tree. I need to go there.

She rolls the scroll back up placing the pouch and scroll in her saddle, she does the same with the rest of the contents of black stallions saddle. Knowing she’ll have to time it Adria waits until the hunstmistress has moved towards her horse and is leading the black stallion behind her, gently stroking its muzzle.

Adria darts straight to her horse but instantly a warm rush suffuses her head and she blacks out.