Cataindar

CHAPTER FORTY ONE

The abbot’s wrinkled paws carefully turned a piece of burned paper.  He read a few sentences written upon it and placed it in a marked box. Hundreds of boxes surrounded him each filled with varying amounts of paper; from large chunks of books to scraps and shreds.  In front of the abbot, was eight large chests with everything the readers had collected from the burned remains of the chamber of journals.  The abbot carefully placed another piece in a box.  He sighed.  Each box represented a journal, and almost every box had burnt pages or pieces of a journal inside.  One box lay empty.  He knew that journal well.

It was he that had written it. 

He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose with his paws.  It was a journal that chronicled the last days of the former princess, her terrible death, and all that happened after.  It held great secrets, dark secrets that could shake Cataindar to its core.

 The story of an evil prisoner kept in the depths of Cataindar.

A prisoner long kept secret.

The ultimate bargaining chip for the catains. 

But he had to be sure it had been taken, after all, he knew he should not be hasty. He took another piece out the box and continued the work. 

*  *  *

Luisa returned to her chambers, escorted by Darcius and several of Finn's scougers who took up post outside her door.  Her body was aching. Darcius had taught her well, respectfully.  He had instructed her how to throw her weight into her blows and stressed the importance of tuning into her dewin.  He explained fighting without it was like fighting with one arm, fighting with dewin, was like fighting with eight; a master could be unbeatable.   Luisa had worked hard, her sweat carrying the metallic tang of Greave's blood. 

Now, as she and Darcius entered her chamber, she felt strangely detached. She couldn’t understand why she wasn’t more upset about the attempt on her life.  About the rebel catains.  If it wasn’t for a stabbing pain in her throat every time she swallowed she could have believed the attack had happened to someone else.

Darcius followed her in. When Clearwater saw them together she recoiled, almost dropping a goblet of moss tea. “Princess, Darcius, I heard the terrible news, are you alright? Greaves, he, he is dead?”

“He is, and others.” Luisa replied.

Clearwater shook her head, wincing.

“He came to kill me Clearwater. He knocked Finn down and disarmed me, strangled me. Darcius here cut off his head and saved my life.”

“Dragons!”

“Yeah…”

“Indeed, it was most foul Miss. Clearwater.” Darcius’ blue eyes worked the chamber, coming to rest on the chest.

“Princess, that is the royal weapons case.” he asked softly.

“Yes it is.”

“May I see? It was last opened when I was but a kitain.”

Luisa gestured for him to go ahead.

The trunk was still, open, and as Darcius made his way across the room, Luisa poured herself a clay-cup of moss-tea.

She looked up to catch Darcius’ first sight of the chest of royal weapons.

It was like his eyes were on fire, two burning blue points like the centre of a flame, a ripple of goose bumps carried across his fur, she could see his breath was caught; the weapons had quite the effect on him.

What is he thinking? 

For a scouger leader, she guessed it was probably the equivalent if someone from White Manor had opened a chest of phones from the future, except the weapons had more of a divinity about them.  She sipped her moss tea and leaned on the lid joining Darcius in examining the chest.

On a bed of custom blue satin the weapons lay glinting, Luisa regarded each one; such beautiful things, made for such disgusting acts, for killing, hurting, maiming.  There were several empty spots, the carefully indented satin hinting to what the weapons may have looked like.

“There are so many missing, what has happened to them?” She asked, almost as much to herself as to anyone.

Darcius’ tipped his head to the side, regarding Luisa keenly.

“Gone princess, some in our world some… I believe in yours.”

“When I got my pendant, there were things missing from that box too.” Luisa said, her hand going to her pendant.

I wonder where they are.

She looked back down into the case, at the bottom the giant silver sword filled the whole case from top to bottom, six feet long, easily.  The handle was black, and this blackness continued up its length before giving in to silver.  The dewin stones inside it were far bigger than Luisa had seen before.  She glanced at Darcius again, he was staring at the sword, a grim smile on his lips; it was a look almost of pain.

Luisa frowned, “Darcius, what on earth are you thinking?”

He straightened, all sign of that strange look gone, replaced with a firm smile.

“I was just thinking princess, what a fine collection of weapons. Fit for a king.” Before she could reply he continued, “I should take my leave. Please again, accept my apologies for this terrible matter. I assure you, things will soon be set straight in Cataindar, all wrongs righted.”

“Okay, thank you Darcius, for you know, saving my life.”

He dipped his head. “My duty to Cataindar, princess.”

Darcius left her chambers and Clearwater gave an audible sigh of relief. “He really gives me the creeps.”

Luisa did not reply, she was lost in thought, sipping her tea and staring at the huge sword.  

What man could ever wield that thing?

She shivered. The weapons had started to make her feel a little sick. With a finger she pushed the lid of the chest, it hovered for a moment then fell with a loud slam. 

After a few moments she heard a faint click.