SALVATION FOR THE FALLEN Chapter 9

He already knew that Larien was not at the tavern since he had just been there talking with Earnest and Carl. Neither one of the men had seen Larien at all today. As he was leaving the tavern, Caro and Cat tried to get him to come over to their table and share a drink with them. He just waved in acknowledgement that he heard them but kept on going, focusing on his mission – to find Larien. He walked swiftly to her home trying to avoid the people on the street out for their walks after their evening meals. Some called out to him but again, he just waved and continued on his way. He was in no mood to talk to anyone tonight except Larien. He didn’t care if he appeared rude. If truth be told, most people didn’t expect him to stop and talk unless he had a special agenda, but they were neighborly people so always made the effort to engage him in conversation. The news he had was important and he needed to talk to her NOW!!

He reached her place, a bit out of breath in his rush to get there, and impatiently knocked on the door. There was no answering, “Come in, the door’s open”. He beat it again, this time with his gloved fist. Still, he could hear no returning response. He pounded on the door a third time as he shouted, “Larien, are you there? Answer me!” Nothing! Maudit, où est-elle? Then he thought that since it had been such a nice day, maybe she was out in the garden. There was still a bit of sunlight left before the moon rose. He strode around to the side garden door and knocked. Again, only silence greeted his efforts. He jiggled the door and it opened on squeaky hinges. Yes, she had spent some time working in her gardens by the look of that one area over close to the house. But, there was still no Larien. He was definitely not happy that he could not find her and his patience was running thin, VERY THIN! Maudit!!

He turned from the garden and went back out the way he had come in thinking he needed to remind her to keep the garden door locked and fastened securely. It should never be so easy to open as it was for him. It wouldn’t be a good thing if someone could walk in and surprise her, especially with the news he had in his possession. He had to stop and think. Where, where did she go? He was always a man of action and this not knowing where Larien could be did not sit well with him. Then, like a thunder bolt, he knew. After gardening, she would probably go to the glen! Oui, c'est ça!

With renewed purpose, he hurried through the alleys of the Keep and made his way out the castle gate, his dark cape flowing out behind him in his haste. He was one of the few people that knew the way to Larien’s glen, and more importantly, could go inside to see if she were there. If he hadn’t been in such a hurry, he would be able to enjoy the warmth of the night air. The sun had finally set and the moon was now slowly rising in the east. The moon was full and bright and not the best type of moon to hide his activities or anyone else’s for that matter. There were few clouds left in the sky to make their shadows on the ground or hide the moon with their presence. The moonbeams were fingers of light filtering through the leaves, leaving small patches of brightness to help him see his way through Wildon Woods. Not that he needed any assistance. He spent much of his days as a boy exploring these woods and now, as a man, used that information to his advantage. To say that he knew them like the back of his hand was an understatement. Not much moved in these woods that he didn’t already know about in some way, shape, or form. That’s what made him so good at his job. He wasn’t being boastful thinking that either; it was just the plain and simple facts. He and his brothers practically lived in these woods growing up. They climbed many a tree in their time and scared many travelers on their way to the Keep! If he weren’t in such a hurry to reach Larien, he might have taken a bit longer on his journey through this home away from home. But he did have a mission of importance. He finally reached the special location that held the magical portal which would lead him into the glen. He said the incantation and stepped into Larien’s paradise.

Her glen was a beautiful place and he was glad that Larien had this retreat to turn to for solace. He let his eyes get used to the light reflecting off the water as it was brighter than the light from the woods. He listened intently for sounds of her in the water but he heard nothing. He quickly looked around the glen area, taking it all in – the moss-covered rocks, the flowers, and the waterfall. Next, he looked up at the big boulder that was Larien’s thinking rock. He quietly took the steps, careful that his sword didn’t clang against the boulders as he walked up them, sure that he would find her there. Ah, yes, there she was! Finally he had found her! He didn’t realize that he had been holding his breath until he saw her. She was lying on the boulder as he suspected. Her back was towards the waterfall and she lay there on the rock with her left arm and hand cradling her face like a pillow. Her eyes were closed. He could tell by her measured breathing that she had fallen asleep. Larien must have changed her clothes after her swim if the pile of clothes lying on the rock was any indication. He stood there looking at her, his eyes moving slowly over her still body. The moonlight caressed her face turning it to alabaster. Her long dark eyelashes curled and rested on her cheeks. He knew that she had fallen asleep after her swim; her long, silky dark hair was still slightly damp and curling around her face and shoulders, spilling across her right hand.

He took his gloves off and secured them in his belt as he knelt next to her sleeping body. Larien looked so peaceful that he hated having to wake her. As he knelt there, he debated with himself over waking her at all. It would be so easy to leave her to her dreams and not wake her to the rude reality of the news he needed to share. He also knew that he could only tell her and let her be the one to talk to the Council. His feud with the Council was still on-going and he refused to speak directly to them. She would have to be the one to tell them. It was best that way as they wouldn’t like what he would say to them should he let his reserve down. And looking at her now, he still could not believe that someone wanted her dead! What could she have possibly done to anger someone to feel that they needed to rid the earth of her existence? Larien smiled even in sleep, her rosy lips slightly curled at the sides. He reached his fingers out to lightly brush the curls from her cheek and place them behind her ear so he could better drink in this vision before him. He never tired of looking at her either awake or in repose. There were not many people that affected him like this or that he cared about as much as he did for this woman. He would gladly give his life for her if he needed to do so. His touch, while feather light, was still enough to disturb her slumber and she slowly opened her eyes. Her smile was instantaneous, genuine, wide, and, oh so inviting.

“Hello, Mark.” Larien’s voice was husky from sleep.

“You know I do not go by that name anymore, my Queen,” he chided her softly.

“Yes, I know. You prefer Deamon.” There was a bit of sadness in Larien’s eyes as her right hand reached up to touch the side of his face. He moved his head slightly so he could kiss the palm of her hand as she continued, “But here in the glen, I think of you as Mark.”

Deamon knew that while they were in public, she did call him by the name he preferred and rarely as Mark. However, when they were in private, she often reverted back to his given name. Since Larien held such a special place in his heart, she was the only one he allowed the liberty of calling him by that name. He asked – no commanded – that all others call him Deamon or Master of Whispers. That was his name now and that was his profession. It suited him. It also allowed him certain liberties because people were too afraid of him to come out and ask his intentions or take him to task. There was only one that knew his true heart and was brave enough to question him and that was Larien, his Queen, his lady.

Larien knew that Deamon did not come to converse in idle chit chat. She sat up and looked at him, asking, “What is it you want to say to me? I know that you have something very important to say. Otherwise, you would have waited until later tonight or tomorrow to talk to me. But since you are with me here, it must be of an urgent nature.”

Deamon sat next to Larien as he wrapped them in his cape. Larien was grateful for the warmth it offered as the night air was beginning to cool down and she had gotten a slight chill while she slept. Deamon was quiet, just looking at the pool with its reflection of the moon rippling in the water. Larien waited, knowing that he was gathering his thoughts. After so many years together, she knew the signs very well. So, she sat close to him, absorbing his warmth and closeness in silence which was broken only by the sounds from the waterfall.

“You know, Larien, I would not come to Galeran if it were not important that I talk to you privately.” Deamon’s voice was low and hesitant, trying to find the right words to tell her. It all seemed easier when he was thinking about it. He was worried how this would affect her and her Angels. However, since there was no easy way to say it, he just started talking. She rested her small hand on his leg to encourage him to continue.

Deamon cleared his throat. “I have grave news. Several of my informants have told me that a very large army is fast approaching our Keep. And, from what I hear, it is not the normal size army of just a few hundred or so that we usually fight or have fought in the past. They are but a couple of days walk or so from our borders, Larien, and are rapidly approaching. My spies do not have anything good to say for this army so I think it is safe to say that they are not coming to ask us to aid them but have more sinister plans in mind.”

“When you say a very large army, Deamon, how many do your informants think there are?”

“I have not received a specific number of warriors but my understanding is more in the thousands. All I know is that they are marching on the Keep from the South, the East, AND the West. If it were not for the Tonathium Mountains, I’m sure that we would be surrounded on all four sides by them,” Deamon replied.

Larien started to talk and Deamon interrupted. “But that is not all.”

“There is more than being attacked on three sides by thousands of warriors?” Larien couldn’t think what could possibly be worse than this news.

He waited a brief moment, looking down at her hand resting on his leg, took it in his own, and kissed it before he quietly replied. “They have orcs in their ranks! “

“Orcs? Are you sure?” Deamon nodded. He felt the slight squeeze of surprise she gave his hand. Larien continued, “Yes, I see your point.” Larien closed her eyes and sighed. “They are definitely not here to chat with the Angels about anything. I will call our warriors and we will meet the advancing armies on the plains outside Wildon Woods.”

“I’m afraid we are too late for that, my Queen.” Larien looked at Deamon’s face, trying to tell what more he had to say that was worse than the news he had already given her. “They are too close to be intercepted and fought on the plains. As I see it, the Castle will have to defend itself. We have no other choice.” Deamon’s voice sounded resigned. The Angels have not had to defend its walls in a very, very long time, probably several decades or more. They all knew stories of other towns and villages that didn’t fare well when battles came so close to their castles. There usually was more damage to the castle walls and the occupants the walls protected. Those battles became more personal, more costly, and bloodier. It was seldom favorable to the villagers who became enslaved to the marauding army, giving up their freedoms to serve the new master of the castle.

Larien sighed deeply. Her bodied shuddered. His arm tightened around her. She looked at Deamon and could read his concern over the news he had just given and how it would affect her personally. She also knew that if the approaching army was anywhere on the plains, they would be within sight of the Keep very, very soon. Even the difficulties of transporting catapults and maneuvering thousands of warriors across the plains would not deter their march. The Angels didn’t have much time to waste.

“Do you think we need to go to the council tonight, Mark, or will the morning be time enough?”

“It should be tonight, Larien. The Castle Angels need time to prepare their weapons and secure the Keep. You need time to warn the dwarves and elves. We will also need to get the hot tar and catapults ready. Remember, we are going up against orcs and will need everything in our arsenal available and at the ready.”

“Then it seems we have no choice. Let us return to the Keep.” Larien knew what needed to be done. “We have a lot of planning ahead of us.” Deamon stood and reached down to help Larien stand. He looked deep into her eyes and could see the concern there for her Angels. He could not read anything in them to give any indication if she knew more than what they just discussed. He drew her to him and wrapped his arms around her, holding her close to him for a few seconds, his cheek resting against her hair. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, kissing her softly and longingly before letting her go. She picked up her clothes as he retrieved his cloak and they left the glen together – in silence.

What started out as a perfect beginning to the evening was not turning into a perfect ending. They didn’t talk much on their way back to the Castle, each deep in their own thoughts. Larien was thinking about the Council meeting that would be called and the discussions that would ensue. She hoped that they would be able to keep the battles for the enemy and not have to battle each other. With the armies coming into the Angels’ domain, the council members might have their own interests they want to protect and she would need to make sure that whatever they decided was best for the Angels as a whole and not just to specific individuals.

Deamon was thinking it was probably a good thing that Larien could not read his mind now. She used to be able to when he and the boys were younger. It had always amazed him how she knew who was responsible when he and his brothers got into mischief. It wasn’t until he got older that he knew and understood her ability even though there were times when he was an adolescent that it was awkward that she could. She stopped being able to read him when he saved her life that first time; that was when their relationship seemed to change. Because she could not channel into his thoughts now, it made it easier for him to keep the biggest piece of news that he had gotten from his spies to himself. He still could not believe what he had been told even though his source was usually very reliable. It seems that someone in one of the three approaching armies wanted the Elf Queen, his Larien, dead!! Deamon was worried about who would try to take Larien’s life and how and, more importantly, why. He was going to do all in his power to see that it did NOT happen – even if it meant dealing with Zigaroth himself!

created originally 6 September 2011

SALVATION FOR THE FALLEN Chapter 8

Larien Arcamenel was enjoying the day out in her garden. The days were getting warmer and she had to clear out the old debris to make way for the new sprouts and plantings. She always enjoyed puttering about in her garden. Larien knew that her body would rebel against the strain that she would put on it by pulling weeds and planting, but to see the new beds with green growth was worth it to her. She was already thinking ahead to when the perfume from the flowers would permeate the soft summer breezes and warm nights with their heady fragrances. The herbs would be used for her Angels to heal and help keep them healthy. The vegetables always tasted better fresh from the garden than purchased in the marketplace. If her crops were plentiful, Larien would be able to give those to her neighbors in need or take them to the tavern for Earnest and Carl to use. She gathered her baskets and gardening tools from the planting shed and looked over the garden area to decide where she should start first: flowers, vegetables, or herbs.

As Larien started working in the herb beds, she let her mind drift back to earlier days and the celebration the Angels had at the Diova Gruss. The Angels had been excited about beating Corvintheus and his army. She felt saddened that she had to be the one to tell them the true nature of the battle and the real reason that Corvintheus was fighting in the first place. Although she knew that Corvintheus brought this sorrow to her friends by his righteous greed and impatience, she still felt responsible for having to be the one to possibly change their thoughts about him as a demi-god.

Why would Corvintheus fall so far from grace, from the demi-god that all knew or thought him to be? Larien had a problem trying to figure out the difference between what she knew of the demi-gods and what she saw take place on the battlefield. The demi-god Corvintheus is about protection, courage and honor. He watches over those who uphold his virtues and pay blessings honoring him. Knights and paladins religiously believe in his teachings and follow him devoutly. By following him, the knights express a belief in chivalry and spending their lives protecting those around them with their strength, both through their battles and by their will. Corvintheus teaches that the “Road of the Warrior” is filled with many difficult choices which define the course of one’s development. It is important that they understand the ways of the world so they can guard themselves from false temptation. False temptations! It seemed to Larien that he might be the one to fall into his OWN false temptations.

These thoughts were all going through Larien’s mind as she continued to pull weeds and turn the soil. One particularly hard, deep-rooted weed was resisting Larien’s attempts to free it from the herb bed. After digging deep and giving it another firm tug, Larien felt the weed explode out of the earth, sending dirt up into her face and onto her arms. While it startled her, it also brought back the memory of a picture in her mind – the flash of blinding white light on the battlefield! Corvintheus and Aurelius were both there fighting before the flash and both were gone after it. Larien tried to remember exactly what happened on that battlefield. Something was teasing her memory.

She sat back on her heels and closed her eyes, her hands resting on her knees, her body stilled and trance-like. She took herself back to that day on the battlefield. Larien felt the sun beating down on her skin, the weight of her healing bag over her shoulder, her clothes sticking to her body. She closed her eyes in anticipation of what else she would remember, her heartbeat increasing its tempo. She could smell the sweat from fighting soldiers and the stench of dead bodies slowly decaying on the ground around her. She heard the clash of metal sword blades hitting other blades, other weapons, and other body armor. She winced remembering the OTHER battle sounds – the cries of those in pain and those dying! She shivered at her cruel and haunting memories in spite of the warm sun caressing her skin. Someone, she couldn’t remember who it was, was fighting Corvintheus, and as his sword blade thrust into the demi-god, she remembers seeing his image flicker between that of the demi-god Corvintheus and that of the Rebel Aurelius. Then came the immense ball of energy and the blinding flashes of white light. In the blink of an eye, Corvintheus was gone and so was Aurelius. She looked, as did other army members, and no one was able to find the bodies of either man lying anywhere on the battlefield. As Larien sat in the dirt in thought, she felt that it had something to do with the flickering images. WAIT! That was it!!! Flickering images! The Corvintheus that the Angels battled was not the real demi-god but had to be Aurelius in some magical disguise. Why had she not noticed this before now? If the Corvintheus battling his people, her Angels, was the magical reincarnation of his image and was really controlled by Aurelius, the message that was being sent to the people of Valeria and the Castle Angels now made sense. Wasn’t that the same message that they heard the Rebel Aurelius speak when the Angels battled him many months ago? Oh, the pieces all began to finally fall perfectly into place.

Larien shook herself from her memories and went back to her garden. She now had to contemplate what she should do with this new insight to their battle. Should she keep it to herself, share it with the people, or share it with just the Council members? As she dug at the weeds under the warmth of the sun that afternoon, she battled with herself as to her next course of action, taking her frustration out on the weeds. Larien decided that, for the time being anyway, she would keep it to herself and momentarily wait. Since no Angels had lost their lives and those injured were healing well, she felt that it was alright to keep her thoughts to herself before revealing them to anyone else.

She continued working until the shadows from the surrounding trees grew longer, stretching their shadowy branches across her completed herb beds. Larien knew it was time to clean up. As she slowly stood, her back stiff from bending, she perused her handiwork. The beds were all cleared and looked inviting, waiting for the coming plants that would fill in the bare places. The baby sprouts now had room to grow and spread out. Yes, this was a good day’s work. Maybe one more day of work in the flower and vegetable beds and she would be done. Larien took several trips carrying her filled baskets to the far back corner of the garden and threw the weeds into the fenced area. She would let nature do Her work over the next year, after which she should have some lovely new earth for next years’ plantings. She stored the tools back into the shed for the next use and went into the house.

Galeran Glen with its warm waters and soothing surroundings beckoned to Larien’s spirits and stiff body. What a wonderful ending to her day of strenuous work! She packed up a change of clothes and set off for her oasis. It had been a few days since her last visit to her little piece of heaven on earth. It was also the one protected place that she could go to which few could find their way. That was due, in part, to the magical properties of the glen that dated back to when she was a little girl. Her father, Farren Arcamenel, knew early in Larien’s life that she would need a place to call her own that was safe and protected from evil influences and where she could go for peace and healing. He also had placed it between the lands of her people and the Castle Angel’s Keep so that she could visit the glen no matter where she was – with either her elven people or the humans. And Larien, over the years, continued to keep Galeran Glen safe from outsiders. She could literally count on one hand the number of people that actually knew their way to her special glen – her brother Finn, Zigaroth, and Mark. They were also the only ones that had been granted the ability to see the special portal leading to the glen from Wildon Woods.

Today, as Larien journeyed to her glen, she missed having her father around so she could go to him for guidance. She really needed to ask his opinion on how she should handle her insight to the battle between Corvintheus and the Angels. While she lost her father during the Dragon Wars, she still remembered him as a wise and understanding man, a just and noble king, and a warm and loving father. There was rarely a day that went by when she did not think of him and wonder what he would do or say if he were faced with the questions being posed in her life and the guidance she gave. She wanted to be like him – understanding, wise, just, noble, strong, and well-loved. Larien hoped that, given time, those people that looked to her for leadership and advice would compare her favorably to her father, King Farren.

As she made her way through Wildon Woods to the portal that would take her to the glen, she noticed that the sun was getting ready to set. While Larien could not see the sun sink into the horizon, she could see the effects of its actions. It was painting the clouds’ undersides with tinges of pale gold at their centers, then blending that into pinks from light to dark, and finally feathering the clouds’ edges with a pale purple. It made the clouds so exquisite and they seemed to glow with their own life force as they changed with the setting sun, their colors intensifying. This color of sunset always made Larien smile. When she was a child, whenever the sky and clouds were this exact color, her father would always ask her what the color of the sky was. He would tease her when she told him that the sunset was “sky-blue-pink” by telling her there was no such color as sky-blue-pink. Larien would always tell him that there was too and all he needed to do was look up at the sky and it was painted there for him and the world to see.

When the sky’s colors were at their most intense deep blues, pinks, and purples, she broke from the woods and into her special getaway place – Galeran Glen. Larien stood transfixed as her eyes took in the glen. It did not make a difference how often she came here. It always seemed to be able to take her breath away and Larien could find new pleasures. It could be as simple as the way the sun reflected off the water, or a new flower pointing its head through the moss, or a butterfly gracefully hovering in the air. It was a source of healing for her, whether it was for her body, her mind, or her soul. She could come here and let the tranquility soak into her very being. Here she could be free. She could be Larien; just a woman without titles, without worries, without responsibilities, without a past, and without a future. To her, it was a haven where time stood still and nothing existed beyond Galeran Glen.

Tonight the sky, in its sky-blue-pink glory, was reflected in the water pools giving back a mirrored image to the lazy clouds. The clouds looking down from their vast heights could see just how beautifully unique they had become, transformed by the setting sun. Their images rippling in the water gave them a special and unique motion, their colors blending together in the water. Even in the fading light she could make out the rock formations that formed the waterfalls that surrounded the pool and protected the glen’s secrets. Time and the cascading waters had worn the rock faces smooth and covered those not directly under the falls in thick layers of verdant green moss. Small blue and yellow flowers grew in the crevices giving splashes of color over the rock formations. Larger bushes and plants in pinks and reds and oranges grew where the rocks were bare of moss and their roots could find rich soil. Sometimes when Larien came, the sun would be shining at just the right angle, reflecting prisms of rainbow colors which danced all around the falls as if the fairy folk themselves were dancing between the droplets, playing tag. The honey bees could be heard buzzing around the flowers, and the butterflies floated effortlessly in the air. The falls themselves held a secret, too. There was actually a chamber-like area behind it where you could sit and think or stand and bathe without being seen from the waterfall pool. Larien smiled to herself thinking of all the times she would disappear and her father didn’t know where she went – or so she liked to think.

For now, she climbed the rock steps to the largest rock. This was dubbed her “thinking rock”. It was covered with a thick mossy cushion and large enough for her to do whatever she wished – contemplate life, dry off in the sun after a swim, sleep if she were tired, or lie down and look at the sky and watch the clouds make formations of rabbits or birds or other things on a lazy, sunny afternoon. She also liked this boulder because part of it was close enough to the edge of the waterfall that she could reach her foot or hand out and let the water run over it before hitting the still waters beneath and the other part jutted out over the pool making her feel like she were floating on an island. The sound of the running water was calming to her spirit, its flow like a heartbeat - slow, steady, and constant as it made its way down the rocks and into the pool. Sometimes she would go behind the falls so she could watch her world through the curtain of water, pretending she was playing hide and seek with the fairy folk dancing on their rainbows.

Larien needed to stretch her body and relax the tension she felt from the day’s gardening. She stood at the water’s edge and slowly disrobed. She took her time, letting each garment fall from her fingertips to cascade around her feet. She reveled in shaking the worries and cares and tensions with each garment piece she removed. She lifted her face to the darkening sky and closed her eyes trying to clear her mind and relax her muscles. She felt free! This was Larien’s time. She stepped to the edge of the rock overlooking the pool, raised her arms in a diver’s stretch, and dove into the water, her body slicing through the dark waters without a splash, without a sound to disturb the early nightfall.

created originally 5 September 2011