The Orb of Souls

Prologue

The Orb of Souls

(C)2009 Teresa J. Goodman

PROLOGUE

The night was cold and dark, the new moon robbing the midnight sky of it's revealing light. She crept silently through the sleeping village, keeping to the shadows as she passed the candlelit windows of it's residents. She pulled her woolen coak tightly across her chest, so as to block the brisk night air from disturbing her sleeping cargo. She knew she was getting closer now. She recognized the locality from his vivid descriptions in one of their many charming conversations. They had talked for hours about the happy years he had spent here in his youth, training diligently with his father, a highly decorated commander of the Elgyntavian army during the Great War.

She hoped she was doing the right thing, after all, he knew nothing of the child. She had disappeared shortly after she discovered she was pregnant. She knew the moment it happened that their time together was now over. Regardless of how much she wished it could be otherwise, she had no choice. It wasn't that she didn't love him, in fact, that was part of the problem. However, the instant the child was born her true identity would be revealed, and all their lives would be forfit. She knew that he would understand the reason for her deception, but she also knew the world was not quite so open minded as he. She hoped that plausable deniability would save him from the stigma that would follow, and that his station would spare the life of their half-breed child.

She loved her daughter very much. After all, she was the product of the love they shared, as short as it was. How she wished their lives could have been different, but she knew from the beginning that their union could never last. She had broken sacred vows, as a high priestess of Drakyn, to be with him, because she loved him so dearly. But, she knew their would be a grave price for such a transgression, and so she considered the resignation of those she loved to be deserved. She knew her god to be a just god, even if the rest of the world did not, and she knew that he would not have blessed her with the gift of a child if there were not a purpose for it.

Now, as she neared his doorstep, she embraced the child snuggled deeply in her bosom, knowing this would be the last time she would hold her in her arms. She hoped someday she would come to understand why she had to do this, and learn to forgive her. She knew that she would be safe with her father, and that he would raise her to be strong, honorable, and unashamed of what she is. She hoped she would come to favor the draconic blood running through her veins, and grow to be an even greater warrior than her father.

She promised her daughter that she would look in on her from time to time from her scrying pool, then slowly lowered the sleeping babe from her chest, unlatching the bunting that had held her firmly in place, and wrapped it tightly around her tiny body to keep her warm. She pulled a note explaining the situation from her pocket and pinned it to the bunting before gently placing her upon the stoop. She pulled her cloak around her once more, rapped fiercly on the door to be certain she would be heard, then returned to the shadows to watch closely until she knew her baby was safe.

Slowly he rose from bed, rubbing his sleepy eyes, and made his way to the door wondering who could be calling at this time of night. He pulled his winter cloak from the hook by the door and wrapped it around himself before opening the door to the fridgid air. When he opened the door to greet his midnight visitor he found no one; bewildered he turned and started to close the door behind him when he heard the faintest whimper. He looked down to see a bundle on his stoop with a note attatched. When he bent down to pick it up he heard the whimper again. Curious, he pulled a flap of fabric back. 'It's a baby,' he thought, as shock overwhelmed him, 'a strange looking baby, but a baby, nonetheless.' He ripped the note from the bunting and read it quickly.

My Dearest Nadarius,

I am very sorry, but it had to be this way. I know your heart, and I know it to be good. The last thing I ever wanted was to bring you dishonor, and for that I apologize. However, I will not apologize for loving you with everything I am. Here, in this bunting, lies the fruit of that love. Her name is Ember. I'm sure by now you see the truth in why I could not stay, and why I never told you what I was. As you can see in our daughter, my blood is draconic. I am a red dragon sorceress, and am adept enough to take elven form when I choose. I assure you that I did not take this form to decieve you. I did so for self-preservation. As you well know, in the aftermath of the Great War, there was much hatred and prejudice for my kind. I pray that you can find it in your heart to forgive me, and raise our daughter as you see fit. I hope someday she will come to understand why I have done these things, and come to forgive me as well. Please, Nadarius, know that I truly am sorry for all of this, that I will love you with my dying breath, and I will always carry both you and our daughter in my heart.

Eternally Yours,

Ranna Dracusbane

He could barely believe what he read, this was his baby, his daughter! Her daughter! Suddenly, everything made sense to him; why she was so secretive, why she refused to marry him despite her claims to love him, why she had suddenly disappeared. He pulled the bunting inside his cloak and pulled it tightly across his chest. He looked out into the street searching for her. He knew she was out there somewhere, hiding, and watching in the shadows. "Thank you, Ranna, wherever you are! She is the fruit of our love, and shall be treated as such. I understand why you are doing this. I understand everything now, and I want you to know that I still love you and always will." He turned and closed the door behind them. Then he removed her from the bunting and held his daughter up where he could get a better look at her. "Hello, Ember, I'm your father. Welcome home."