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Rated: E · Book · Fantasy · #1700638
A world is discovering the past while trying to deal with the current conditions.
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#704200 added August 19, 2010 at 6:24pm
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chapter one
CHAPTER 1
Another loss

Tears harvest the light of the soul, flowing to nourish those who share a common grief. Light captured in those precious drops can be given to another, healing wounded souls.
Seer Timothy 3rd age

  The campfire sputtered out with the early morning sun. Sitting on a stump, Martin took time to write in his journal, a daily habit that drove Lauren to distraction. She was grooming the horses getting them ready for their saddles. While brushing Willow, their thoughts touched lightly with visions of his contact with other horses and animals around them.
  Lauren broke the imposed silence “Martin in the next village, we should find someone to help us with the horse and gear and is familiar with the island to help you...” Lauren didn’t finish her thought before Martin interrupted.
  “Someone for me, and what do I need help with?” Martin looked at Lauren with his far away smile, as if he were in another world.
  “For now it would be nice to have help with the baggage, caring for the horse and setting up camp. When we get to Menton, they could help us put a household together and make local contacts.”
  “I think, My Lady, you are protesting all the work you are doing. By the way, where is your journal?” He continued to write, but she knew some how he was watching her.
  Turning in his direction Lauren saw the warm smile that sustained her through the last few weeks “I know I should record everything but my thoughts are tangled up right now. When I look at what I’ve written, it is gibberish” she turned her attention to grooming Willow and setting the packs on the other horses. Struggling with the packs, Martin came over to help.
  “Lauren, you need to write the gibberish. You have too many memories and writing them out will help you sort through them. You won’t talk to me about Marlex. You have to learn to let go of the darker images. I believe it is why you are having all the nightmares.”
He reached over catching her hand, forcing her to look at him. “Lauren, you have to trust again. We have been through a lot. We are a long way from home. Please try and write tonight, if you won’t talk to me.”
  They started out with Martin in the lead, packhorse, and cart between them. He was tracking several intense concentrated lights, traveling in their direction.
“I believe every one of the riders approaching has a Stone. I have never witnessed a concentration of this magnitude before. Do you feel their presence?”
  Meeting this group would be their first encounter with anyone bearing a Stone, since they left Celenta. Lauren prayed to the Source it would go well. She was feeling both hope but apprehension.  Would they find the help she was searching for when?
She could recite the words written on the scroll left to her by her mother. “When all is lost, new light will prevail.”  The parchment remained hidden in her packs. She dared not share it with Martin. What more did she have to lose?
  “Lauren, do you see anything in front of us, any indication of riders coming our way” Martin was watching Lauren. He sensed her light dimming in this forest.
  “I see lucent spots in a haze on the horizon. It is the same vision I saw in the village.” Lauren did not see a clear defined shape to the light only patches of luminescence
The aura was unlike what she saw at school or with anyone; she knew who carried a Stone.
They rode on through midmorning with only the drone of insects and chirps’ of hidden birds to compete with the sounds of their horses. Lauren started to drift into memories. She was trying to understand why their progress met with so many disastrous obstacles. Sunlight filtering through the canopy of leaves becoming defused and scattered creating an oppressive murky gloom that Lauren was straining to reach the sun light.
    “Martin, MARTIN” Lauren screamed as arrows flew around her. In one brief split second, one beat of her heart, he was falling from his horse to the forest floor, an arrow marking a darkening spot on his chest. Men came yelling out from under the trees. 
  Leaping from Willow, she raced to his side. “You need rest Lauren, your guides are failing.”
          She heard only a harsh rasping whisper, watching as the light faded from his eyes.
          “I will be leaving you now but remember I am with you in your heart.”
  “I’m sorry” tears blinding Laurens’ eyes as she tried to stop the bleeding. Martin reached up brushing them aside. Looking deep into those beloved eyes, she asked him for his gift.
  “Yes” he whispered. 
         Touching his forehead, she drew his memories into her. With a rush, all the ages of his wisdom flowed around in her mind. Their minds held as one a dizzying spectacle of people and places she could not comprehend. Lauren called out to Martin giving him one last task to perform.
         “Speed your way to Anne and tell her we have landed and nothing else. This is your last errand my friend, be filled with the light and free.”  Lauren felt him soar out into the light as his body sagged against her lifeless.
  Noise was buzzing in a haze all around her. She heard Willow’s low whinny echo in the darkened glade. Someone grabbed the back of her cloak, pulling her up.
         Men surrounded the horses until Willow kicked out with his rear hoof striking the man in his chest with a sickening crack. He fell back gasping and coughing. The other horses were standing still, wary, watching as more men emerged dress in rugged leathers carrying swords and iron rods. They formed a circle around her. Black holes interrupted the little light she felt. This was not supposed to happen, where did they come from? Filled with grief and pain and crushed by the darkness Lauren felt completely alone.
  Grabbing her by the arm a gnarled hand pulled at her dragging her around. Facing black lifeless eyes in a scared bearded face, he growled at her “missy you are a pretty one but you need to behave.”
         He struck her hard across her face. Lauren winced feeling the bruise form, a trickle of blood from a cut made by a ring on his hand. She was trying to puzzle through all this information, but she was running out of time.
         He was watching her, a cruel smile exposing rotting teeth, and she knew he was getting ready to strike again. This was his mistake. Before he could strike again she stabbed at his soft middle, pushing her dagger in deep and jerking up and out. Wild eyed he screamed crumpling forward to his knees.
  The horses screamed in alarm as an arrow whistled past her into the man lunging forward, he fell at her feet. New voices sharp and commanding filled the air and a tall brown gelding halted by her side.
         “Are you all right?” 
         She made out his rugged clean face, dark bright golden brown eyes, looking down at her, the knife, and the man at her feet.          “Mistress, you’re…? “
  “I am alive” her voice was barely audible in the outcry from the continued fighting.  She leaned into Willow, the ghost white stallion staying at her side.
         “Are you more brigands” fear clouding her mind, remembering how easily she had been deceived.
  “I’m John Langdon, we heard your cry, and tried to find you as quickly as possible.” John looked at the carnage around this woman in the center of  a lambent glow that kept him from discerning who she was.
    “My guardian” Lauren walked back to Martin, motionless on leaf strewn earth. Another friend lost on this journey, was this how it was to end? She knelt down, closing Martin’s eyes.
         Looking up at John, the tears flowing down her cheeks, stinging the cut, Lauren sobbed, “He is gone.”
    “I am sorry we came too late to save him.” John was still astride his horse, but she could see a strong light from a Stone and his light-pulsed clear blue white. This did not make any sense he should know she carried a Stone.
    An elderly man rode up to them after he was assured the fighting was over.  He counted the dead men scattered on the ground around her.
         “John we need to send a rider for the coroner to investigate the scene. We cannot leave here until then.” His voice had a strong rich timber filled with a natural authority.
  The words drifted down to Lauren “I will not stay here in this dark place. Is there anywhere in this country where it is safe?”
         Her voice could not disguise her desperation.  The feeling of being pulled  deeper into the bracken and leaves everything draining out of her sent a cry out to Willow.  The shadow white stallion walked over, nudging her, their minds touching, and he shared her pain.
  This woman, bathed in pale moonlight sitting on the dark forest floor in the middle of their holding captivated, John. The sun was not high enough to penetrate the canopy above, where was the light coming from.           Dismounting he stood to the side “our manor is an hour's ride from here. We will need to post a guard and wait for the coroner. You have been through a lot and need to rest for a while. I assure you, our home will be a safe haven for you.”
         John forced himself to turn from her.  Looking at his father, he waited for him to agree.
  Lloyd Langdon was still trying to assess what exactly happened. Four men were dead from arrows. One man was faced down in a dark pool of blood.  Off to the side one man would not be alive much longer. Mark, Johns' arm man was talking to him, but it did not look like he was getting any information.
         “Father” John started.
  Sir Langdon walked to his side “I have sent Bradley back to get more men. It will take at least an hour, longer for the Coroner to make it here. If Canfield is staying at Temepleton with hard riding, he will arrive sometime tomorrow. I told Bradley to bring lanterns and supplies to spend the night.  Gather up everything and we will find a space close by two camps."           Sir Langdon looked at the last surviving member of this ill-fated party. “May I ask who you are?”
  Not flinching, “I am Lady Lauren Risenstar, Ambassador in exile from Celenta.” Looking around she was trying to judge what information was safe to tell them.
    “I was sent with a message for your Queen. We wish to extend friendship to you and find allies.” She sighed deep inside herself “friendship, trade, and aid. My mission has not gone well.  I am the last one left of eight who started this ill-fated journey.  Now, may I ask who my rescuers are?”
  Sir Langdon doffed his hat, bowed slightly, offering a hand to help her up. “I am Sir Lloyd Langdon of the Langdon holding, you have met my eldest son John.”
         A small trickle of light flowed from his rough worn hand to hers. Lauren realized he didn’t appear to notice. Could his reserves be overflowing, or is he not aware of this ability?
  Walking to the center of the path, she surveyed the scene looking at the men still searching in the woods for anyone who may have escaped. “Will you put Martin, my guardian in the cart? It does not seem right leaving him lying there.”
  “I sympathize with you, but the coroner, Sir Canfield must see the scene as it is. I will have one of my men put a blanket over him.” Sir Langdon replied and motioned to one of his men.
  She stepped over the man she killed looking around for her knife. Finding it, she examined the blood darkening the blade and gathered some leaves to wipe it clean. She returned it to the hidden pocket of her skirt. 
  John approached her and introduced the other men. Pointing to each one in turn made a slight bow at the introduction. “That is Timothy my younger brother, Mark, my arms man, Jamison my father’s arms man, Carl, Samuel, and Walter, huntsmen on our holding.”
         John looked at Lauren “Lady Lauren you have taken a nasty blow to your cheek.”
  She gingerly touched her face, a small groan escaped unbidden.
  John hesitated then reaching out “here let me tend to it.”
  Lauren pulled to the safety of Willow “can’t we go to anywhere there is sun light” she barely whispered.
         The sound of horsemen galloping towards the groove filled the stagnate air. She had sensed their coming for a while and thought they were Sir Langdon’s men but instinct and pain overloaded her common sense. She flew upon Willow’s back. The scream came from somewhere deep within her, echoing out into the glade.  Willow stayed, pacing in place. Nothing moved him, not all of Lauren’s urgings; he felt she was safe here with these men.
  “Hold, hold there, they are the men I sent for.” Sir Langdon barked out, taken aback by her reaction.
  “Father I think we should take her to our home” again, John tried to persuade him adding a note of command to his tone. It was as if he felt her need to get out of there.
  Sir Langdon looked at Lauren and the pleading tears filling eyes. She troubled him. First, she appeared weak and helpless but when questioned, she was almost defiant. Where was the true character of this Lady?
    “John, Mark and Samuel, you will escort Lady Lauren to the manor. Timothy and I will stay here and wait for Sir Canfield.”  Sir Langdon instructed his men to set up a temporary camp on the other side of the grove.
    “If possible, can I take my pack horse with us? The cart can stay if you guard it and use it to bring Martin out of here. I believe he deserves to have a decent burial” Her tone was soft but firm never looking at Sir Langdon.
  Nodding ascent he took John off to the side. “She is a strange one son, sitting astride her horse, her clothes and manners are not from around here.” 
         Casually looking in Lauren’s direction, rubbing a hand over his chin “where is this Celenta she is from?  I have never heard of it. Keep a close watch on her and keep your guard up when you get home."
    “I understand father” John turning to catch Lauren in the corner of his eye, “she has a strange energy in her.  Lady Alice is at the Manor” a scowl flew across his face. “She was unwelcome before, it will be a good thing she and her mother are there now. I will ask them to help in finding out about our new guest.”  Calling Mark over to confirm the horses were ready for the ride back. 
  Lauren tried to hide the fact she overheard their conversation. “You are a cautious one Sir Langdon.” She did not know who should be cautious of whom.



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