Kingdoms of Caelum; Autumn of the War Queen

Chapter 10

Time had dissolved into blackness. Nothing seemed to exist anymore as Katla lay beside him. Staring up towards the thousands of stars that danced behind black clouds, she sang a lullaby squeezing his hand.

"I love you." she whispered, feeling nothing but despair. He had been her world, everything she was, was him. He was a warrior, a leader, a strong man, but more than this, he was hers. He had held her tightly as a baby, rocked her to sleep, and sung her the very same lullaby she was singing now. The pain ripped through her body.

"Father, I want you back," she cried, "I want you to come back." Sticky trails fell down her face once more. She sat up from his body and tried to think; no longer did she feel her soggy clothes against her skin, or the cold night air. The back of her hand wiped away the tears again, and she sat there, just staring at him. When the breeze blew his hair, it almost looked like he was sleeping. Perhaps he would wake up?

Across the vast space of the mainland, a low unmistakeable sound suddenly snapped her out of the trance she had created. It was wolves.

"No," she sobbed "No, no, no!"

Gaar wolves were brutal predators, notorious and meticulous killers. They had surely smelt the fresh kill of Hallvarder's blood and Katla knew it would not take them long to reach her.

"YOU CAN'T HAVE HIM!" she screamed into the night. She lay across her father's body, sheltering him while she wept, "You can't have him!"

Another howl and excited distant yapping sent dread coursing through her body. This pain was unbearable, she knew she would have to leave him to the wolves or she would die too. "Father, I'm sorry. So sorry"

Her heart ripped into pieces as she kissed his forehead, removing his golden pin from the great fur coat. It had their coat of arms engraved: bow and arrow. She would not forget. A low bark echoed closer this time. She hovered for a moment, picking up small rocks from the riverbed and throwing them into darkness; this was too cruel, too devastating. A couple more barks, and then she caught the first glimpse of reflective eyes. She bent a final time to him, her father, the man she had loved above all else. It was time to say goodbye, "I will always love you", she whispered, shutting her eyes painfully. When she opened them, more wolf eyes danced in the darkness. She ran. They were close. Katla scampered blindly through the dark land, waiting for an attack, but it seemed after a while that they hadn't followed. She looked up to the black mass of Roskilde for the last time, just as a shrill bark and the loud whines of excitement stopped her heart in her chest with a sickening blow. The wolves had found her father's body.

"I HATE YOU!" she screamed up toward the Kingdom, up toward Ragan. Katla dropped to her knees in the blackness, surrounded by nothing but long grass and dusty ground. She had no where to go: the feeling destroyed her. The only coherent thought she had was not to head south. Going south held many dangers, including Thurlstone. If Ragan was to make her a murderer, they would be in alliance with him. North would see her at the RisingPort and the Bay of the Six Kings; from there she could somehow catch a water ship to the Vale of Pelyn, and perhaps onto Fortis. Fortis, she thought chillingly, the Kingdom of the Dark Elves, and the outcasts of Caelum. But there was no other option, she had to leave Gaar, and quickly. Surprised she had created an objective, she looked towards the constellations to retrieve her bearings, "The blue warrior." Spotting the tip of the shield she now knew which way was north.

Ragan hung his cloak over the fireplace in his chambers, catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror. He looked terrible, unshaven, dishevelled, with black hair blown into a tangled mess. He smiled.

"Perfect."

He was not troubled that he had just murdered his only brother. He had murdered and sent to death many innocent people before, and there would be many more to come, he thought savagely. Hallvarder's death had been planned years ago: he was just an unfortunate recipient of circumstance, nothing more. Ragan took a swig of red berry wine from his chalice. The Clan leaders had gathered in the Great Hall, shocked and uneasy, eager to listen to Ragan's version of events: how Hallvarder had been killed, and what was proposed. He knew he would have to work hard to convince the many loyal subjects Hallvarder had held so dear, but with his men as witness and the wild fire rumours that had been circulating for weeks over Katla's displeasure at the betrothal, he thought the story to be solid. In truth, it was a stronger story than he could have ever hoped for. He rehearsed it again in his mind: Hallvarder had found her in the mainland, refused to back down. In anger she had sent her arrow flying towards him, not intending to kill, perhaps only scare. Her stubborn nature and quick temper was as well known as her archery skills, and it was viable that a single shot could bring down a mountain such as Hallvarder.

"Yes." he said confidently to the mirror again, "The wolves will have made a carcass of him by now. Let any man challenge my word."

He screwed his face in contempt as the names of Freid Olaf and Borag Asta popped into his mind. They would probably hold their tongues but he had to be careful: they could not suspect anything just yet, not until the next stage had been completed. With that thought, came another. He must write to Dalbert. Ragan strode to the hawk shackled by his window. This special little thing had been trained for one purpose. He quickly scrawled a note that simply said "It has begun" and shoved it into a small compartment on the leg. Removing the shackles, he released the bird and opened the window. It made no noise as it stretched its wings and flew off into the night.

"To Thurlstone" he smiled.