An Abstract Thought
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(still a working title) Anyway, this has been in the other area for way too long, I still do0n't think that it is up to the par that I should be able to produce, but it hasn't gotten many reviews so I guess moving it here is the next logical step.
This is Chapter 1:
“You’d best come back inside before you catch your death from the chill,” Lilian called from the door. Her voice was crisp, even in the stuttered chills of the northern night. Its soft tones hung like honey spread gentle atop the familiar rabble of the drunken lords and nobles of the Mark. Mikael turned, his body frozen with anticipation, and just a little hint of childish fright. It was a familiar game, one that he played often in the darkness of the cold. He never won, but that wasn’t the point, if he could stay out long enough she would have to wander out into the faded drifts of snow to find him and pull him back into the confining warmth of the house.
She would catch him, would drag him from his freedom no matter how much he struggled against her, but he could rest easy in the knowledge that he would at least make her suffer for her efforts. And, if he were lucky, he could make her stumble, or even fall into one of the bigger drifts still hidden from the glowing light of the keep by the deep shadows of the night. “Don’t make me come out there and get you again,” she shouted, but he could hear the laughter in her gentle words. She knew the game as well, understood the childish fancies that made him play it each time she came to gather him into bed for his royal mother.
“The northern lords never surrender, you’ll have to come and fight me if you want me to come in,” he called back, making sure to hide his location by letting his voice bounce off the confused drifts of snow and ice that had already lined the castle’s courtyard. Lilian, or Lily as he preferred to call her, was far nicer than his last nurse. She was younger, barely more than a child herself, and she still remembered what it was like to be young. The northern Reach was a place of grim tradition, a land locked within itself by the years of cold that left it clad in rolling sheets of white for all but the briefest of pauses in the very heart of the southern summer.
There were no seasons, no freedom from the watchful eyes of the castle’s staff and the countless tutors and scholars called to teach him the ways of the noble life. But he still had Lily, a breath of fresh air and his escape from the rigors of the world that he had been born into. She was far more like he than anyone else he knew, even his older brothers and sisters didn’t seem to remember what it was like to be the youngest of a line of ancient kings.
“You’ll have to catch me, if you can,” he called again, watching her slender form slip from the thin window of light like a frost wraith descended from the high mountains in the far north of Ithir. She moved like a shadow then, fading from his view even as he held his eyes locked on her progression. She never told him how she did it, but he had often fancied that she was something more than a simple nurse, a hero, maybe even an elven hero, from the stories that she read him. It was a tempting fancy to think that she had come to free him from the dull mundanity of his frozen world.
“The northern lords are fearless indeed, but the northern lordlings would be fools to think that they can fight their nurses and win,” she whispered, her voice echoing from all directions, pulling closer with each word. Mikael loved this part, the challenge of it was far more interesting to him than any of his studies in the ancient tongues or the forgotten places of some lore that only ever seemed to put him straight to sleep. Here he could feel alive, could feel the frost on the rising winds as it bit against his face.
Motions called him, lessons taught with the wisdom of countless failures guiding his lithe form into motion. Turning quickly on his feet he raced like the frozen winds across the rolling drifts of snow. There was a wild vibrancy in the idea of the open air rushing past his face and burning red blush across his cheeks. She would catch him, but not before he could reach the side gates and maybe even the edge of the elder forest that brushed up against the very sides of the castle walls.
“I guess that I should be happy that you like the cold so much, but your mother would have my head if she knew that I was responsible for letting you catch a cold this night,” she called again, her voice echoing through the darkness to touch softly against his ears. Motion blurred his sense of direction the sounds racing at him from all sides until he lost track of her movements in the world around him.
“You know that you have to look well and proper for the feast tomorrow, it is about time for you to be matched, and it would not do to give a poor impression of yourself,” Lily added, smiling to herself as she thought of what kind of an experience it must be to wait in dread for strangers to decide your life for you. She did not envy him his place in this world but she could not afford to anger his mother, not so soon after she had been caught sneaking him into the armory for some unsanctioned training.
“Just a little longer, you know that we Ainar’s don’t catch chills like the lesser sorts, we were born of the cold, it runs through our veins just as it races through the brittle branches of the trees and leaves little paths traced out across the snow.” He shouted over his shoulder, the teasing smile melting into shock, and then to laughter as he caught her springing from the darkness. She tackled him, turning him through the snow as they rolled, grappling with each other down the little hills. They tumbled through the chill, the soft white powder clinging to their faded cloaks and slipping in to burn like frozen fire against their skin. It stole the warmth from their bodies, bleeding off the heat of life that burned at their core.
“You won’t best me this time, I’ve been practicing,” he laughed, only to regret the choice to open up his mouth. The shock of the snow distracted him for a moment, weakening his guard enough for her to press him down against the ground as they slid atop the deep layers of the snow. She was stronger than her slight form seemed to indicate, pinning him beneath her slender arms as though he were no more than a child. Fourteen winters he had seen, and still he could not seem to best her as they wrestled there in the snow. It would have humiliated him, if he didn’t know her secret, she was not just another one of his mother’s maids, she was different, hired by his father to watch over him.
“It’s no fair, you always win,” he muttered, exaggerating his pain as he staggered back onto his feet. She was just too quick, her motions too sure for him to follow them and then react.
“I do, don’t I,” she laughed, flicking at his nose to tell him that she saw through his feigned façade of pain. He may not have learned enough to best her, but their little bouts had taught him quickly the value of being scrappy and strong. “Keep trying, it’d be no good to match you to a princess when you can’t even beat your nurse,” she added, unwilling to let even the little chance to tease him slip her by. Her lips curled into a teasing grin as she swatted him towards the distant glow of the door, careful to hide the faint glint of pride that flickered in the corners of her eyes. He was growing stronger every day, he would be ready, when the time came, to join the knights and ride beneath his brother’s banner.
“But now, we must be getting back to the castle before someone notices that we are both gone. It wouldn’t do to leave them wondering, not now that you are so close to becoming a proper adult,” she pressed, dusting the snow off of her leather cloak.
“Must we? The night is still crisp, and the cold is just starting to slip free from the north,” Mikael muttered, digging his boots deep into the snow. It was useless to fight it, he knew that he would not be able to break free from her even if he’d wanted to, but that didn’t make the chilled monotony of the castle any more inviting. It wasn’t fair, in his opinion, his brothers had been freed from such thoughtless curfews years before, Aeron had already begun his training to join the Royal Hunters sun and he was only a few years older.
“Mother just doesn’t want me to grow up, she likes having a little one in the house,” he added, shivering despite himself as the howling winds dug their fingers beneath the collar of his cloak. He was the youngest of the line, the most precious, or so he was told, to his mother. In all honesty he couldn’t see it, couldn’t feel the wellsprings of love that everyone seemed to talk of, only the confining weight of her watchful eyes and controlling hands.
“Your mother wants the best for you, which is why she would have my head on a platter if I didn’t get you off to bed in time this night,” Lily sighed, tugging a little harder on his hand to dislodge his feet from the fresh piles of snow. The moon was already inching its way over the horizon, the soft powdered glow hanging for a moment against her eyes.
“You don’t want to get another nurse, do you,” she added, teasing at his dusty blond hair with her other hand as she guided him back into the flickering light of the keep. Behind her she could hear him choke on half spoken words as he hurried to move beside her. She tried to hide her smile, to look away, into the fires behind the half opened door, but she wasn’t quite fast enough to miss the scarlet blush that spread itself out across his cheeks.
“I guess it is for the best, it would be terrible if they matched me with some silly princess because I hadn’t behaved,” he stammered, turning to the side as he stumbled haphazardly atop the rolling drifts of half trampled snow. He shuddered at the thought of the matching ceremony, his mind racing through the images of the suitors he had seen in years past. The noble families of the Mark disgusted him, and their favored daughters made him sick in his stomach.
“I don’t want to be matched though, I want to go on adventures to find damsels in distress, to fight dragons and win back fair maidens…” he sighed, the words escaping from him in faded bursts as he lingered there before the waiting door.
If he closed his eyes he could feel the castle melt away, the blanket of snow fading into fields of proud mountains and stones stained red from the battles of legend. There was glory still to be had in the world, or so he kept telling himself, and it seemed a waste to lock himself away in some stone prison, waiting to come of age and be tied off to some beholden baron and shuffled into the royal guard. “I want to fight the armies of the frost, like my great great grandfathers did in those stories,” he groaned, stepping at last from the freedom of the snow.
“Guard such thoughts, hold them close to your heart and do not let them wander far. The night is a fickle thing, full of sprites and spirits that would gladly grant you such a wish,” Lilian whispered, shaking her head to free the last powdered flecks of snow from her long tresses.
“But mother says that ghosts and spirits are no more than wives tales, whispered in the dark of night to keep the children to their beds,” Mikael muttered, turning his eyes towards the doors of the great hall to hide the awkwardness of his blush. He liked the old stories of adventure that Lily told, he found the tales of legends and myths fascinating but he was too old to believe them any more than he truly believed in his own dreams of fame and, even more farfetched, freedom.
“I am not common enough to still hold to such fancies,” he added, ducking hastily from the circle of her reach as the words slipped unbidden from his lips. The blush bit against his cheeks, staining them a vibrant red as he scampered down the hall to the safety of the wide doors. He could hear her behind him, the softness of her footfalls sending faint shivers racing down his spine. She was gaining on him, closing his meager lead with a speed that he had come to expect, but, for some reason, he found himself almost hoping that she would catch him, pull him to a stop before he could reach the protection of the royal lords and ladies.
“Come back here you little…” Lilian called behind him, laughter splitting her words between the soft rush of her breath as she sprinted after him. There was something in the way that he had said ‘common’, some hidden meaning held behind his tone that reminded her of the gap that stood between them.
“Even lordlings are scared of the dark,” she sighed, pushing the sting of class distinction from her mind. There was no helping the way the world was, no fighting against the world of ranks and casts that held the Mark in balance. Still, she couldn’t help but emphasis her little name for him, drawing out the sounds of gentle teasing despite her better judgment. He would be her liege one day, the lands of her family already cast in the allotment of his inheritance, but that did not mean that he was any less the child that she had helped to raise these past few years.
Mikael only ignored her, the baiting of her words lost on him as he staggered to a halt, his eyes locked on the slow motion of the double doors at the end of the hall. From inside the sounds of drunken revelry roared out, slipping gratefully through the narrow gap between the heavy wood of the doors to be free at last of the suffocation of the hall. The sounds echoed, bouncing through the narrow hallway and filling the little rooms that lined it with the sounds of the politics of the northern lords and drowning out the soft whine of the hinges as the doors parted just that little bit more to let the figure of a man stumble through.
“Ben,” Mikael called, the sound of his voice, and maybe the volume of the name, causing the man to jump from the depths of his drunken stupor. “Ser Benim, I thought that you were with the patrols for a week longer,” he added, remembering the manners that his new age demanded a little to late to properly contain his joy. Of all his father’s knights it was with Ser Benim that he felt most at home, something about his unconventional mannerisms reminded the boy of his nurse, and in a way himself.
“If it isn’t the little’un of the royal litter, I trust that you have been making your good nurse’s life properly miserable in my absence,” Ben slurred, shaking himself from the hold of the last pint of ale that still hung heavy on his breath. “You will have to forgive me, my young lord, but I find it near impossible to stand the company of the other knights unless I am allowed to see them through the amber haze of ale,” he added, shuddering despite his wide smile at the thought of suffering the pleasantries of the court in any degree of sobriety.
“Well, I never, you must be the jester of the court,” Lilian called, gathering herself enough to look the part of a dignified duchess as she closed the remaining gap between herself and the young prince. For a moment she had felt her heart stagger and stop as the door had opened, the last thing that she needed now was to listen to the drunken lords after a long evening of their diplomacy.
“Oh leav…” Mikael paused, caught between his childish fascination with the court and the strange attraction that pulled him towards the soft rippling motions of her rumpled hunter’s cloak. She flashed him a smile, grinning behind the softness of her face as she watched him falter, stunned into motionless silence with his mind transfixed by the subtlety of her movements. She really could play the part, even with the dirt and half melted snow that clung like frosted blush against her cheeks.
“You needn’t worry about him, you trained him well enough to rest easy in the knowledge that I never will,” she added, allowing her smile to break through the regal façade that she had created. There were worse people than Ser Benim that she could have met in the castle, and of all the lords and knights he was the only one that she truly didn’t mind. Maybe it was the common birth that united them against the arrogant entitlement of the nobles, or maybe it was just their mutual practicality that bridged the gap of cast and class.
“Now, now, he can’t be so bad,” Ben sighed, grimacing as the door shuddered behind him. There had been a reason for the feast, a grand discussion or some such thing that had called them all from the far corners of the Ainar lands, but it had been lost in the ale and the wine that flowed like rivers to sate their unending thirst. “For a lordling he is one of the best,” he added, forcing himself to smile off the thoughts of his noble brethren, the castle politics were difficult, filled with intrigue that he had not the stomach for.
Lilian just shrugged, catching the young prince by his hand before he could gather his thoughts and slip away again. He was still a prince, the son of a royal family that was not known for its forgiveness, and she was still his nurse. “Good or not it is time for bed,” she soothed, turning slowly back down the hall. She would have left him have his fun if she could have had her way, but there were traditions that she had to follow, instructions that held her to the will of his royal mother and chained her to her role and him to his.
“I am sure that you would be allowed to join us, for a little while,” she added, glancing hopefully over her shoulder at the waiting knight. Mikael already had so little to look forward to with the matching ceremony that was planned for him on the morrow, it seemed only fair to indulge him just a little to ease the unwanted changes that would be thrust upon him.
“Could he, really?” Mikael asked, his eyes lighting up at idea. Ben always had the best stories, wonderful tales of daring adventures from beyond the northern walls. He was one of his father’s best hunters, and while he would never make a proper name for himself because of his birth and his dislike of the intricacies of the court he was still well respected for his skill.
“You can tell me the latest news from the edges of the kingdom,” he whispered, already lost in the waking dreams of valor and bravado that teased at his mind.
“If the young lord wishes it who am I to refuse him,” Ben chuckled, closing the gap with a swiftness that belayed his disinterested tone. Without even a pause he slipped between both prince and nurse, mussing up the boys hair while he tossed a wink to Lily. “You’ll like the new adventures, secrets and shadows fill them like the tales from the first great king of these lands,” he added before racing off down the long hall, Mikael close behind.
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