The Fallen - Chapter 8

The hidden camp that Royan had found Rachelle hidden in was about a weeks ride from Gallia City proper and the days passed more quickly than Royan could have expected.  They were easy traveling days – spent companionably enough.  Royan was still amazed with how adaptable Rachelle was and how well she was coping with such a strange an amazing turn in her life.

Rachelle seemed to absorb everything around her with equal measures of practicality and astonishment.  A strange mix of reactions, but Royan imagined that her life had dealt her a fair amount of strangeness.

The first small village they had come upon had spooked her badly.  She and Bella had planted themselves firmly in the middle of the road several hundred yards from the village and refused to proceed.  It had taken 3 hours for Royan to convince her to ride through.  That there was nothing bad in the village and that no one would take any action against them.

He shook his head at the thought and looked back at Rachelle.  She seemed absorbed in watching the landscape around her and he didn’t want to intrude on her private thoughts.  The lands they were traveling through were safe enough, so he drifted into an almost slumber. 

Rachelle was aware of the quiet within Royan and was amazed how easily he could turn his mind off.  Even when she was at home – she supposed she couldn’t really think of it as such any more – she hadn’t been able to easily shift her mental states.  It was always a struggle to focus on centering.  Perhaps all along she had been aware of all the magic around her.  Perhaps it spoke to something deep inside her that wasn’t yet awake…

The landscape of Gallia was softly beautiful is a way that was vastly different from the stark beauty of the lands of Aldis.  Aldis was a mountainous land, what little farmland had been developed over the centuries was hard won – the soil quality poor and the fields strewn with boulders.  But the people of Aldis themselves were as hard headed as the fields were rocky.  They learned the lessons of crop rotation and patience.  Through sheer determination, the folk of Aldis were able to supplement what their goat and sheep herds produced – meat, cheese, milk – with vegetables and grains.  Fruit was hard to come by, but the quality of Aldis’s textiles was second to none – they were able to trade for that which they could not grow.

But Gallia seemed to be all lush farmlands and softly rolling hills.  It had nothing in common with Aldis that Rachelle could see.  Off in the distance Rachelle could see a pale gleam on the horizon.  She wasn’t certain but she thought perhaps it was a mountain.  The White Witches left a similar white smear on the horizon when seen from a distance.  Granted it was a mush larger white smear, but Rachelle had yet to see a sizeable mountain since she had left Aldis.

Content to sit and watch the scenery pass along beside her, Rachelle relaxed and let the morning pass around her.


The screech of a jay overhead startled Rachelle out of her nap.  Yawning widely and rubbing her eyes, Rachelle looked blearily around her.  It seemed to be about mid afternoon and she ached from slumping in the saddle while she slept.  Wiping sleep sand from her eyes Rachelle noticed a bright white glimmer off to her right.  Turning to look, she was astonished to discover the source of the whiteness she detected earlier that day.  It was a city.  Presumably Gallia City…  It was larger than anything she had ever seen.  When Royan told her he was taking her to Gallia City, she had pictured something about the size of Edgemont – large enough to have an inn or two and prosperous enough to have a tailor, a blacksmith, a butcher…  But this?  This was beyond comprehension.  The walls were taller than the oak trees that grew sparsely in the fields surrounding the city and were a bright gleaming white that burned the eye to see in the sunlight.  The white was marbled with rose and slate and cobalt that dazzled her senses in the strong afternoon sunlight.

Within the walls themselves stood more buildings than she could count.  Towers flying pinions and sweeping minarets – a riot of color against the gleaming white stone that appeared to be used to construct all the buildings.  She couldn’t imagine how many people lived within those walls to need so many buildings. 

As they rounded a bend in the road, Rachelle saw a huge gate rising above them.  Thick, iron reinforced oak doors formed inner and outer gates and between the doors was a series of imposing iron portcullises – all wickedly barbed and frighteningly imposing.  Queued at the gate were wagons – presumable farmers’ wagons judging by the produce loaded in the backs…  Late day deliveries from out-lying farms.

Before Royan knew it, they were coming up on King’s Gate and he realized that perhaps he should have made time on the trip to be more forthcoming with information about himself.  He didn’t think that it would make a difference, but she didn’t always react to things they way he expected… 

Should he tell her now?  There were only two carts in front of them at the Gate…

“Prince Royan!” a voice called from the guard tower.

“Damn,” he muttered as Rachelle’s head whipped around and those amethyst eyes felt as if they were boring straight through his skull.

“Prince?” she came her astonished whisper.

“Prince Royan!” the voice called more insistently this time.

Royan looked at Rachelle shame-facedly and began, “I perhaps should have brought this up sooner?”

Rachelle’s face flushed crimson and she turned to stare stonily straight ahead, as a guardsman came stalking out of the guard tower. 

“Dammit boy!  Have you gone stone deaf?  I seem to recall teaching you better skills than that not so many years ago.”

From the corner of her eye, Rachelle could see the tips of Royan’s ears flush scarlet and she felt remarkably better.  Served the sneaky bastard right.

A large, grizzled man was striding purposefully toward them with a faint limp.  He looked speculatively from Royan to Rachelle and said, “I see you’ve made a friend upon the road.”

Royan nodded and introduced Rachelle, “Sir Rygor – may I present Rachelle of Aldis?  Rachelle – Sir Rygor – my armsmaster as an unruly child.”

Rygor snorted, “What gives you the impression you have left childhood behind, you young pup?  If my eyes serve me, you have perhaps been less than honest with your traveling companion if the astonished look on her face is any indication.”

Turning to fully face Rachelle, Rygor continued, “You will have to excuse His Highness young lady.  I drilled into his young head never to admit his identity when traveling unless on an official state visit.  He is our only Heir.  Now you, my child – you are a long way from Aldis…  What brings you to Gallia City?”

Rachelle was uncertain how to act with this imposing man.  There was something about him that she found immensely reassuring yet she knew nothing about him.  She too had learned the long hard lessons on the follies of trust.

Royan interrupted before she had the chance to form a response.  “I’ve brought her to study with Duncan id he will have her.”

Rygor snorted, “Duncan?  Why in the name of the Heavens would you do a thing like that to the poor lass?  You know Duncan’s crazy as a shit house rat!  Never mind he hasn’t taken a ‘prentice in about a hundred years…”

Flushing again, Royan explained, “I suspect he will be glad to take Rachelle in and teach her.  And don’t be so hard on him – you’ll give Rachelle the wrong impression.”  Turning to look at Rachelle he continued, “Sir Rygor takes exception to Duncan routinely routing him at cards.  One would think that our good knight would learn his lesson and quit putting his pay on the line, but he has yet to realize that he’s met his match.”

Sputtering Rygor blurted, “Met my match?  Why the old cur is nothing but a cheat – I’m sure he witches the cards out of me.  There’s no other possible explanation.”

Rolling his eyes, Royan said, “Rygor…  I’ve been beating you at cards since I was 9.  What makes you think that Duncan isn’t simply a better player?”

Rygor glowered at Royan from beneath impressively bushy eyebrows and pointed at the gate, “To the head of the line you disrespectful whelp!  I’m sure you’ll be wanting to deliver this angel into the hands of that devil – may the Hundred have mercy on your soul!”

Royan rolled his eyes again and motioned for Rachelle to follow him to the gate.  When Royan passed by Rygor, the older man swatted him on the leg and winked at Rachelle.  He whispered conspiratorially up at her, “Don’t mind me lass – I’m just sore that the old devil never has a losing streak.  Duncan’s a good man.  If he consents to take you he will do right by you.  And Royan will plead your case well.”

Rachelle smiled shyly and nodded her thanks to the gruff old knight.  She couldn’t be certain, but she thought she detected the faintest blush of pink upon his cheeks when she smiled at him.

Smiling back, he added, “If you need anything, just ask any of the guards to find me.  I’ll help any friend of Royan’s.”

“Thank you, Sir Rygor.  You are very kind to treat a stranger so.”  Waving tentatively at him, Rachelle followed Royan through the gates and into Gallia City.