Manorborn: The Battles Between

Chapter 4

Chapter 10

They were gathered in one of the large meeting rooms of the Manor.

Walls of dark wood, shelves holding books, tomes, and scrolls, and a great stone fireplace lent the room an atmosphere both studious and warm as the Manorborn met with Mahrmia and Beag to hear their tale.

It was a harrowing one; full of family lost to Darkness or hunted by the Blood Sails, seeing friends and comrades die in battle after battle on the great seas of Maa. More than once voices broke and tears fell as one or the other spoke of loved ones slain before their eyes. Yet, theirs was also a tale of resolution and dedication to the Maker, of generation after generation fighting the Darkness and seeking to undo the workings of Almakhadie and his minions.

"We have fought long, and we will continue to fight, Lord Garyn." Mahrmia said, holding her teacup in her hands as she spoke, Beag nodding next to her. Their faces were resolute, firm, with waning hope, but determination was clear in their voices.

But so was weariness.

"But our people are losing hope. We fight on, and we will do so, but there is a fatalistic sense among us, a feeling that we fight a battle that can never be won. For all that we strike at his ships, he never seems to fun short of them, and when he sets his Blood Sails upon a ship, that ship is doomed."

Mahrmia set her tea cup down and leaned back in her seat, rubbing at her eyes as she spoke.

"We would have fallen to the Blood Sails ourselves, for they had found us this very day, save for the great fog bank that surrounded the land where sits the portal that brought us here."

"My captain feels you could be of great aid to us, Lord Garyn."

Beag's reluctance to believe such was clear as she spoke, and she did not hold back her feelings.

"I am less inclined to believe you can be of such aid."

She raised her hands to still protest before it came.

"I do not mean to offend, and I am sorry if I do, but how can one man, and three boys, strong though you may be, make enough of a difference to bring us victory?"

"You are fair in your doubt, Beag, and neither I nor my sons take offense at your words. In truth, you are not the first to express doubt. Those who have thought of us as mere legend or myth, you are not alone in this, have come to us hopeful but doubting." Garyn smiled gently, accepting the First Mate's wariness without censure or criticism.

"We are used to having to convince others that we can be of aid, and that that aid is, perhaps, of significance." Galen smiled, giving Beag a playful wink with his good eye.

But as he spoke, he was drawn to look at Mahrmia, a sense of doom or fate coming over him as he did so. He found himself wondering just who this young Captain was and what part she would play in his life.

Little did he realize that the one upon whom he pondered was also pondering him.

Mahrmia looked at the youngest Manorborn in curiosity. Who was this man-boy? How was he so confident while still being so young? Why did she feel so strongly that her fate was tied to his?

She let out a soft breath as she tried to accept his presence as just one more odd event among odd events that had happened to her over the last day.

"You are weary and have had a long day. Sadly, it is not yet done."

Garyn's voice was strong, somber, as he looked at his two guests closely.

"That you need our aid is clear, and you shall have what you have asked for. Though I am still healing from battle, my sons will come with you to your world and lend what aid they can. They need but a few moments time to prepare, and then they will be with you again. In the mean time..."