The Line of Illeniel

Chapter 3

Marcus Lancaster stretched lazily, enjoying the touch of satin on his skin. He looked over at his companion, the Lady Eleanor Strickland. She was a lovely girl, with long blond tresses and golden eyes that nearly matched her hair. Talented as well, he thought quietly to himself.

The night before had been a blur of wine and dancing, which was a common occurrence in the capital of Lothion. Albamarl was a large city and many of the nobility kept residences there, to better keep up with the important social doings around the King’s court.

“Time to be off,” Marc said to himself, rising silently. Dawn was getting close and it wouldn’t do to be caught in the young lady’s bedroom by the morning servants. He quickly donned his clothes and gathered up his scattered belongings. Eleanor didn’t wake; she had had a long night.

A few minutes later he was walking down a narrow lane that ran between the houses in that part of the city. The street proper was on the other side of the houses, this way being used mainly for servants and deliveries. Marc knew his route well; he had already visited a number of noble houses over the past few months. Being the son of a duke had its advantages and he had enjoyed a large number of dalliances with the young ladies of Albamarl. Despite what Mordecai had once thought regarding Penny, Marcus never took advantage of maids or other female staff, he restricted himself to women of noble birth.

It wasn’t that he looked down on the lower class, but he felt intuitively that it was wrong. A woman of low birth could hardly say no to a duke’s son. Such a thing would be an abuse, even if the lasses were willing, and he had no problem finding plenty of prey among girls of his own class anyway.

He started whistling to himself as he walked. The sun was starting to peek over the horizon and it looked to be another beautiful day. I wonder how much longer I should stay in Albamarl? he thought to himself. After the events last year he had taken a new interest in the future. Lord Thornbear’s death had made him painfully aware that his own father would not live forever. Someday he would have to take on the mantle of Duke of Lancaster.

Marc originally came to Albamarl to court and woo, being the heir apparent meant he had a duty to find a wife before he got too old. Although his original intention had been pure, he soon found that none of the noblewomen he met could keep his attention, well not for much longer than a week or two. As a dutiful son he kept searching, and before long he realized that he enjoyed the chase more than the conclusion. Life is hard sometimes.

He was walking along, already wondering where he would find his next conquest, when he heard the sounds of a scuffle. The first noises were harsh thumps, the sound of someone taking a beating, but they were followed by a sickening wet sound. Rushing around the corner he saw three men in a dark alley.

One was standing, looking around anxiously, while the second rifled through the pockets of a young man. The fellow on the ground was leaking blood at an alarming rate. “Cease and desist! I’ll have the watch here in a moment!” Marc shouted, reaching for his sword.

It wasn’t there; he had left it in the cloak room at the party the night before. Shit! he thought. The man standing lookout charged him, a heavy truncheon in his hand. That’s probably what produced the thumping noises, he observed. He found himself leaping backward to avoid the other man’s clumsy swings. Timing them he waited till his foe over extended himself, and then he stepped in and delivered a heavy left hook to the thug’s temple. The man stumbled, his legs having turned to jelly, and fell. Marc kicked him solidly in the head as he tried to rise.

Snatching up the truncheon he looked for the second assailant, but that one had apparently run when his friend went down. Their victim didn’t move. “Hey! Are you alright?” he asked, kneeling beside the fallen man. The fellow had been stabbed in the gut and blood was still pumping sluggishly from the wound. It didn’t look good.

“Someone help me! Get the watch, someone find a doctor!” A few curious folk had stuck their heads out when they had seen the fight was over. Marc called to them for help, but he knew it was useless, the man on the ground had little time left. It was doubtful even a doctor could save him at this point. As he looked down at him the fellow opened his eyes and groaned.

“It hurts…” The injured man’s eyes were wide with pain, yet he obviously couldn’t see clearly. Pain and loss of blood seemed to have robbed him of his senses. “Momma, I couldn’t find the fish… I’m sorry.” Finally Marc noticed the scattered food on the ground. Apparently the victim had been returning from the market.

Something about the pure ordinariness of it struck a chord within Marc. Groceries seemed like a silly thing to die for, yet this man had been stabbed for nothing more than that and whatever change had been in his pocket. He had probably been an honest man; he wore the silver star of Millicenth, the goddess of the Evening Star. Without thinking Marc reached out to touch the star, “Please Goddess… if there is a way to save this poor man, show me.”

Marc had never been one to pray before, outside of weekly services. He knew little of the proper ways to beseech his goddess, but he knew nothing else to do. His emotions built and he felt hot tears forming in his eyes. Still he clutched the silver star, “Please Lady, if this man meant anything… help him. I know I’m not worthy, but this man needs you.” It might have been his imagination but he felt a warm glow form around him, and then he saw her.

She was wrapped in a luminescent dress, like starlight made into cloth. Silver hair and bright eyes accented a face so beautiful that he felt like crying at the sight of her. “Long have I waited for this day, Marcus Lancaster. We have much to do,” she said with a voice that reminded him of music.

“I don’t know what you mean Lady; I just need to save this man. He has wronged no one and does not deserve to die.” Despite the beauty of the goddess in front of him he could still feel the man’s life fading under his hand.

“If you would save him you must give over your worldly life. Devote yourself to me. I will show you the path of the righteous and through you I will shine my light into the empty hearts of men.” She drew closer as she said this, till it seemed her face was mere inches from his own.

Marc could feel her beauty like a physical thing and was filled with a sense of the divine, a holy radiance such as he had never known. It flowed into the cracks in his heart, the empty places. The eternal solitude that every human knows from birth… was gone. For the first time in his life he felt complete in her presence. “I will my Lady,” he answered, “If you will let me I will serve you all the days of my life, forsaking all else.”

“Open your heart to me child,” she said, but he had already done so and he felt her pouring into him, like liquid light into a dark vessel. The world vanished into a sensation of such joy and power that he was overwhelmed. Opening his eyes again he became aware of the world in a new way. Light filled everything, and below him he could see the light fading from the man on the ground.

Marc opened his hand and placed it over the wound. He could feel her power flowing through him and as he watched the blood stopped and the flesh closed up again without even a scar left behind. The man on the ground was watching him now, eyes wide, as though he were staring at an angel. “You healed me,” he said simply, touching his unblemished stomach.

Marc spoke, “You were healed by the grace of the Evening Star. Her mercy saved your life. Remember that and live with her in your thoughts and actions.” Then he stood up and looked around, a crowd had gathered. People were murmuring in amazement. “The Goddess has blessed this man, and she will bless us all, if we but let her,” he said. Unable to bear their continued stares he worked his way through the crowd and headed for his father’s city home.

First you must go to my temple, to present yourself before the priests there. They must hear my words and prepare to give you a place among them. The goddess spoke within his mind. “Yes my Lady,” he answered and then he turned to head for the temple of Millicenth. He had no more doubts about the future.

I woke early the next morning. I had slept more soundly than I had in weeks and for a change I felt fresh and rested. Penny lay beside me, snoring softly… for once. I watched her for a few minutes, marveling at her beauty. I still didn’t understand what she saw in me, but I hoped her eyesight never improved. Remembering her promise from the night before, I decided to see if it was still on the table for discussion.

I eased closer to her and began kissing her neck softly, while my hands… well let’s just say they roamed a lot. The general idea was to get her into such a state that she would be unlikely to refuse me when she finally awoke. It seemed to be working. When her eyes opened I covered her mouth with my own, hoping a kiss would seal the bargain. For a moment it worked, I could feel her excitement, but then she pushed me back.

“Oh you play dirty!” she exclaimed as she untangled herself from the bed sheets.

“You can’t blame a guy for trying.” I was in a good mood despite her strength of will. Was she panting? It might have been my imagination.

“You keep that up and we’ll be in separate beds till the wedding day,” she retorted. I was pretty sure she was bluffing.

“You did trick me last night. That was hardly fair,” I smiled at her.

“What isn’t fair… is you working yourself to death in front of me.”

She might have a point there, but it reminded me of my plans. “Oh that’s right! Where’s your chain shirt? I’ll do it first, and then I can go see how Dad is doing with the molds.”

“Molds?”

I hadn’t had a chance to tell her about our plans yet so I filled her in. She liked the idea and agreed to come along to the smithy with me so that Dad could use her pendant for the molds. Her only condition was that I eat breakfast before I got started. She seemed to think I would starve myself to death if I didn’t eat in front of her.

Dorian came in while we were eating. He looked tired. “Got any more of that?” He motioned toward my food.

“Sure,” Penny said and she got up to make him a plate.

“You look like shit,” I opined.

“This is what you looked like last night, so don’t get too cocky,” he responded. “I spent the entire night looking for your monsters.”

“Well I’m glad you did, I slept better than I have in days,” I tried to sound grateful. He ate with us and then I got busy working on Penny’s chain shirt. Penny went ahead and took her pendant over to my father before she went to see the architect.

“What are you going to tell people?” Dorian asked. I had just finished with her chainmail byrnie and was preparing to head over to the smithy.

“I don’t know. I’m not sure what’s worse, panic or fear of the unknown.”

“I spoke to some of the townspeople this morning; right after the sun came up. They’re worried,” Dorian added. “If they don’t hear something soon they may panic anyway. They haven’t failed to notice me, especially now that my armor sparkles like this. People know you called me for a reason.”

Dorian could be awfully smart sometimes. It was easy to take him for granted but he was a careful thinker. “What do I tell them? That some sort of undead monsters are prowling around?”

“You’re their lord, they need your leadership. Explain things to them and maybe they’ll surprise you,” he commented.

“No one else here is capable of fighting those things…” I started.

Dorian cut me off, “You are mistaken if you think that’s how this works. Where do you think the Duke of Lancaster gets his power?”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Answer me,” Dorian said stubbornly.

“The King of course,” it seemed obvious to me.

“Wrong. His power comes from those that serve him. A duke, or a count…,” he looked at me pointedly, “…receives his power from those who do his bidding. Without them he is just another man.”

“I’m a wizard, and they still can’t deal with those things,” I countered.

Dorian stood up and walked over to a small tree that stood by the house, drawing his sword he swung at it. His newly enchanted blade cut through the sapling as if it were made of paper. It toppled slowly over, narrowly missing my outdoor table. Dorian looked a bit surprised; at a guess I would say he hadn’t tested the sword since my efforts to enchant it the day before. He paused, then remembered his train of thought, “Who cut that tree down?” he asked.

Idiot, I thought, He cuts down my pear tree and then asks me who did it? “I’m telling Penny,” I replied sarcastically, as if we were still kids.

He gulped nervously, but went on, “Come on Mort; answer me… who cut the tree down?”

“When Penny asks I’m telling her it was you, but it was my enchantment that made it possible.” I took a sip of water, looking at him over the rim of the cup.

“Who’s hand held the blade?” he replied.

“Yours my good friend, it was definitely yours,” I said, nearly laughing, sometimes I crack myself up.

Dorian threw the sword on the ground, “Can it cut a tree down now? Get up sword! Go cut that tree down for me!” He was yelling at the blade and pointing at another small tree.

I was beginning to wonder at his sanity. “Come on Dorian… calm down. Obviously the blade can’t do anything if you don’t hold it. Well technically, I might be able to make it work without holding it… but I think that’s not your point is it?”

“Damn right it’s not! I held the sword. I cut the tree down… with this hand,” he held his large hand up, making a fist. “And who made the sword, before you enchanted it? Who built this house? Look around you! Everything you see was made by plain old everyday people, your people! You can improve on some things with magic, surely, but you are just one man. True power lies in the people around you. As the Count di’Cameron you have been given their trust, it is up to you to use it wisely. Hide everything from them; treat them as children and you throw away your power, you cheapen their strength. Talk to them, trust them, let them help you and you will learn what true strength is.”

I had never heard Dorian give such an impassioned speech before, and it cut through my arrogance, touching my heart. “Dorian, you’re right.” For a moment he reminded me so strongly of his father that it almost brought a tear to my eye. I got up and hugged him. “As long as I have friends like you things will always work out. If it weren’t for you and Penny I don’t know how I would manage all this.”

“I’m glad you realize that,” he answered gruffly. He always got a bit uncomfortable when I was overly emotional.

“Let’s go see how far Dad is with the pendants, maybe we can help him. When they’re ready I’ll talk to everyone. I won’t tell them till I can at least give them some small measure of protection,” I said.

“At least you have a plan,” Dorian replied. “Any plan is better than none.” Together we went to the smithy, there was much to do.