3rd June 1329
Ruins of Ferniegair,
South-East of Glasgow,
Scotland,
Earth.
Lady Tatania hadn't been watching Liam when he vanished, having looked behind her as footsteps approached. It was Iain and the Princess, their faces in shadow despite the lanterns and fires.
Hearing the cry of her husband, she spun.
A silver light filled the space where Liam stood only moments before, thin spinning strands of wispy mist flowed out of the area, flooding the hamlet with a brilliant display before it all vanished, leaving no trace of the young Page behind.
The Pages who had been surrounding Liam stepped back at the sight, shading their eyes as they peered into the light, trying to discover what happened to their friend.
“What?” James said, he stood in disbelief. “Tatania. He’s… gone! Like… Alistair!” his voice trembled, cracking. He stumbled back, as if struck by some invisible force, his axe falling to the mud of the ground unheeded.
Tatania had never seen her husband react this way before, but she’d heard of it happening once, many years before. She grabbed his shoulders, turning him to face her. Lifting her hand to his cheek, the Lady forced him to look into her eyes. His were unfocused, brimming with tears.
“Do NOT think that, James. We don’t know what happened! He is NOT dead. He’s gone. All we know is he received a quest and disappeared!” She mentally sent a prayer to God that she reached her husband in time. Prayed that she was right, that Liam still lived. “He will be all right. The vision said Bragi was a good man. A man! Not a God, a devil, or a monster.”
The Lord nodded, still staring through her in a daze.
“It is not your fault. What happens to Liam is not your fault!” She bit off each word, making sure he heard every one.
The last time her husband had looked this way had been when his Squire fell at Bannockburn. Sir Keith had been with him then, although she had first heard the tale from the lips of King Robert himself.
Years before, James had taken his cousin Alistair as a squire. He was a brave lad, and full of the same life Liam displayed. He hoped to prove himself before the knights of Scotland, and through this, gain his spurs.
He finally got his chance at Bannockburn. By all accounts she’d heard, he fought like a demon. Carving his way out of the schiltrom and into the English ranks, he’d come close to breaking their formation. Her husband had gone after him, trying to pull him back within protection of the disciplined circular formation of spears and pikes. A group of English Men at Arms blocked him.
He could only watch helplessly as they trapped his cousin, blows raining on his armor until it was rent asunder. The English kept hacking long after they dismembered his corpse, throwing his limbs back into the Scots’ formation.
The King had said he took a long time to die, not screaming until the end, and then he did so pitifully. James could not see him, only being able to glimpse the blades rising and falling where his cousin lay.
The Englishman who landed the final blow decapitated James’ cousin.
King Robert said that it was then the tide of battle turned. Her husband had launched himself forward, followed by his Men at Arms. The Douglas armsmen carved a bloody swathe through the English ranks in mere seconds. In some of the most brutal fighting of the war, Lord Douglas had shown no mercy. Once they breached the English line, James had turned, repeating the act again and again. Each time he returned to the fray, he sought for the man who slew his cousin. His men screaming the fallen squires name: Alistair.
It had also been the King who explained to her that James was no longer the same man. His men had been keeping him from her. Trying to prevent her from seeing those cold, hate-filled eyes.
When the King had ordered them to let her into his chambers, it was James who barred the door, demanding she leave. Refusing to allow her to speak to him, or even to let her look at him.
It had been over fifteen years ago, but she still remembered her fear when she finally managed to corner James. She'd ordered one of the King’s men to break down the door. Finding her husband huddled in a corner, weeping.
When she'd looked into his eyes, however, she knew.
They were not the unfocused orbs she saw now, but utterly blank… Retreating into himself so that others would not have to share his pain.
His eyes and voice had been empty, a void that resonated with cold fury.
Her fear was not for herself, but that she’d lost him to war.
When they had returned to Douglas, they found it rebuilt, but James didn’t set foot in the keep. Instead, he slept in a cot in the stables. He’d tried finding comfort in drink, in gambling and finally he’d been unfaithful. Tatania had pretended not to notice, but had wept each night with the deep pain of love lost.
Every day she’d gone to him, waiting outside the stables for hours. Every day he had left the stables, and went down into the town, ignoring her.
It wasn’t long before the guards on duty each night reported the screaming. The cries cut off as he woke, and started again soon after as the cycle repeated. Each time, he called out for his cousin. The cousin he couldn’t save.
Many thought him mad. His appearance started conforming to their assessments. His beard grew out, his hair grew long and his skin dirty.
Finally, Sir Keith had enough. He’d gone into the stables with two guards.
James came to her that night. His face bruised black by blows and cut with the razor they’d shaved him with. The men had washed him, scouring his skin with a brush. His matted hair had been cut short. His clothes, too, were clean, but he was still not the same man who had left her for war.
It was only when he finally looked back at her she saw him there.
Then he broke. Weeping like a babe while she held him.
The pain in his heart burnt itself out in their lovemaking. Desperate and aching for peace.
She cried through the experience. But not because he caused her pain or was rough.
It was because she could feel HIS pain. It went beyond the physical. She shared it, helped him to bear it. Took it from him and helped his soul to heal. To discover himself again past the grief, memories, and pain.
He had slept that night like a babe in her arms. Waking to cry out, and she was there, holding him. Singing softly to him. He would glare at her in a rage, then calm when he recognized her, weeping with relief and sorrow.
The next day, he’d finally emerged from the pit his soul had buried itself within. When she awoke, he sat on the bed, staring at her.
“It was my order!” He admitted. They were the first words he’d spoken to her since he left. “I told him to prove himself. That it was this battle where he would win his spurs! I told him it was his duty to God! I ordered him to go!”
She soothed him. “He knew this was his last chance to win his spurs in battle! He would have gone anyway!” She knew Alistair almost as well as she knew her husband. They were both stubborn mules when they set themselves at a task.
James shook his head. “I broke my oath to him. I didn’t protect him!”
“You can’t protect those who go willingly beyond your reach!” She countered. “You’re not God, James. You’re a man. My man. A good man, but not able to save everyone!”
He shook his head, still blaming himself, but she saw her words had rung true.
Slowly. Ever so slowly, he healed. What happened to Alister was a wound upon his very soul. And for years, she had worked to heal it.
Even now, almost 15 years since, she sometimes saw the distant look pass over her husband’s face like a dark cloud. Now, it was a mere bump on his psyche, but she feared losing Liam would tear the wound open once more. Or worse, create a new one.
He looked at her. His eyes refocusing and he smiled, leaning forward to kiss her passionately. The men had seen the Lord kiss his wife before, but never like this. This was not for their benefit, to see the Lord and Lady were happy and content in their marriage. This was pure. The kiss of a man and a woman fated to love each other.
He was still there. Still her James. Her man. Her love.
“Aye, love.” He whispered when they broke the kiss. She leaned heavily against his chest, panting with relief, and not a small amount of desire. Tears ran down her cheeks, and he lifted a hand, cupping her chin, turning her face once more to his.
His hand was warm. So warm. She looked into his soft blue eyes. “Never again!” He promised, knowing what she feared.
Kissing her gently, he sealed the promise, as he had sealed them so many times before.
She relaxed, knowing that whatever happened, he would keep his word.
Iain bent down and retrieved the brutal great-axe that was now his Lord's posession. He struggled briefly with it's weight before pulling it free of the mud and wiping it down as best he could. Lord James, seeing his efforts, realized that this was the weapon that took his Squire's arm. He hoped that by wielding it he would not remind the Squire of his wounds.
"Iain, I hesitate to ask this of you, but this axe is a powerful weapon. Would you mind greatly if I wield it? It will be your duty to maintain!"
The squire shook his head. "It's better that you do, Lord. Perhaps if you wield it, the evils that it has done will be extinguished. It is after all but a tool. As you've taugh me, the true weapon is the warrior, and the one who maimed me is dead."
Lord James nodded gratefully at his Squires' words.
A cough from behind her husband’s broad back announced Squire Glengarry. “Ahem, forgive me, Milord, Milady.” He was staring at the spot where Liam had been. “The men.. well, they worry that witchcraft may be about! The boy may be innocent, but the spirits that took him may linger!”
Lord Douglas looked around. The men were indeed muttering, frowning at the lord and the space where Liam had vanished. Some were already peering into the shadows of hovels, hands resting on swords. Even he feared ghosts. Ephemeral beings a sword could not touch.
He hoped that the spirits of the dead townsfolk would stay at rest.
“Aye. We shall leave.” He said, seeing the men’s reaction. “We’ll continue on to Cadross as soon as we can break camp. We should make Glasgow by midnight and shall rest outside its burgh.”
“Lord! What of our dead? Should we take them with us? Or bury them here?” Iain asked, the Princess still at his side. “There is a wagon we could use!”
Lord James smiled at his Squire. “Aye Iain. We shall accord them a proper burial. Place them in the cart, and we shall leave them in the care of the Kirk in Glasgow. I have enough funds to ensure the Priests say masses for the dead.” He said. He turned to his wife. “Would you drive the wagon, my love?” He asked.
She nodded her agreement. “It would be better if the men were on horse.” She said. “Iain, you shall ride with me. I dinnae want you fighting without an arm.”
The Squire bravely shook his head. “I’m afeard I cannot do that Lord.” He bowed. “I can still hold a sword, and shall guard ye from horseback.”
Tatania arched an eyebrow as the Squire countermanded her command.
“He just lost an arm in our service Tatania, it’s a miracle the man isn’t dead.” James agreed with Iain, smiling at the Squire reassuringly. “If he says he can fight, that’s good enough for me. Anyway, someone needs to keep the Pages in line.”
He visibly winced, remembering Liam, still blaming himself for the lad’s disappearance.
“In the meantime, organize the men to move out.” The Lord ordered, offering his arm to his wife.
Tatania pursed her lips in a pout. Shot him an angry glance as the Squire walked away. “You ever think, even for a moment, that I wanted to talk to Iain.”
James looked at her in surprise. Not understanding why she was angry. He was about to say something, but Tatania had already forgiven him. She leant in close and pecked his cheek. “I love you, even when you’re an idiot.” She smiled sweetly and turned away, off to seek the Pages.
She had seen Iain was uneasy and wished to talk to the young man about his arm, his station, and the princess. The Lord and Lady would not abandon the squire. If they could keep him on despite his maimed condition, they would. As for the Princess, the Lady wanted to ensure he did not grow too attached, nor raise his expectations too far.
The King or Prince David would decide her match, not the Princess, or her clear infatuation with Iain. The Princess was walking a dangerous path by leading Iain on.
Bloody minded Scots! She thought.
Raised in Norway, Tatania never truly understood the goat-like stubbornness that was so common in her adopted nation.
Spying the three young pages busying themselves at their fire, she approached. Their heads were together, no doubt cooking up some plot to get their friend back. Deciding to help, she walked over to join them.
Llywelyn was standing with his back to Lady Tatania, and so didn’t hear her approach. “But what if he returns here to find us gone?” He asked. The other boys weren’t paying attention either, instead musing on the problem.
The Lady’s soft voice gave him a start.
“Then you’d best leave him a sign of where to go to find us!” The lady said.
All three boys bowed to her, but she shook her head and smiled. “You do not need to do that here. Not after you fought like lions to protect me!”
All three of the boys puffed their chests out a bit at that.
Aidan spoke up. “Milady, what kind of sign should we leave?” He asked.
“Liam is sure to remember we are heading to Cardross, but he may not know where to go from here. He may reach as far as Glasgow with luck, but from there, where?” She asked. “I believe our best hope to guide him is to point him towards safe locations. From there he can ask for aid.”
Llywelyn nodded. “Churches!” he said, understanding her meaning. The others looked at him in surprise.
“They’re safe havens, always more fortified than these hamlets and a place for travelers to seek aid. If we put down an arrow upon the ground using planks and point it at a cross, Liam may know to visit churches in order to find the way to Cardross!”
The Lady smiled. “Well done, Page Gruffydd!” she beamed, causing him to blush with pride.
“See to it!” she ordered the boys. “I know my stubborn husband shall have us moving again soon!”
The boys rushed to fulfill her command, building a cross in the middle of the Hamlet. Aidan, however, busied himself with building an arrow out of logs on the ground. It didn’t face towards the road, but towards the forest.
Finished, Aidan approached the Lady and pointed towards Cadzow Keep, its crenellated wall barely visible above the trees at this distance. “If Liam returns, he may see the arrow and remember the keep!” He said, explaining the message. “Could we send a note to the Keep?”
“I shall have James write to Lord requesting he provide aid and keep a watch for Liam.” She said, nodding to him.
She watched as Aidan’s face scrunched up. “Lady, do you think Liam is alive? Its only been a few days, but, well, he’s one of us!” He said, confiding in the Lady.
Nodding, the lady struggled to keep her own face free of tears as she thought about the amount of love these boys… men now had for her, their lord, Iain, and even Liam. A boy they’d only known for a few days.
We’re like a family. She thought. I will let nothing happen to these boys.
“Pages of Douglas,” she said, her voice hoarse, and the boys turned to her, worried that they had done something wrong. “You’ll all make the greatest of knights one day. Never lose faith in each other and never lose faith in God.” She said. Her eyes misting.
Familiar arms enveloped her from behind, and she looked around and up to see her husband smiling down at her. He’d heard her speak and grinned as he looked down at her.
“Aye, that they will, my love.” He said, proud of his wife.
James turned to the boys. “I know that Sir Keith has taught you about intent. As a weapon, it is without equal, but it shall not defend you from strikes you never see coming. Only wisdom and foresight can do that.” He paused, turning to Tatania. She was looking at him, puzzled. “My wife is the wisest person I know. She can take a broken man, and make him whole, turn a tired group of boys into a force to be reckoned with, and even raise young children to be the greatest of men.”
“Show them?” He asked. And Tatania thought “Show Statistics.”
Before her, a red field of golden text unravelled.
Title: Lady, Seeress
Name: Tatania Douglas
Level: 7
Genus: Human
Class: None
Age: 34
Tribulation Experience: 83/100
Health: 160
Magic: 240
Stamina: 100
Available attributes: 3
Attributes:
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Strength: 12
Agility: 14
Vitality: 10
Intelligence: 25
Wisdom: 24
Charisma: 24
Luck: 18
Faith: 22
Will : 24
Skills:
Tactics: 2
Leadership: 25
Athletics: 18
Strategy: 33
Reading: 208
Swimming: 4
Logistics: 13
Writing: 144
Manners: 55
Swordsmanship: 2
Mathematics: 183
Chivalry: 27
Archery: 18
Hunting: 45
Healing: 22
Riding: 42
Light Amor: 5
Housekeeping: 32
Sewing: 29
She blushed with joy at the boys obvious awe.
Their lady was a seeress! Not only that, but she likely had the most attributes of anyone in the entire Kingdom!
“The system has granted my wife the gift of dreams. So far, her prophecies have yet to come to pass. But should they, we shall need young men like you more than anything else. Brotherhoods of warriors who do what they must. Protect each-other and defeat the enemies of God and the realm!”
Lord James turned to Aidan. “You’re right, Page Wedderburn. If Liam is to return, he will make for Cazdow Keep first. Once we are ready to leave, we shall visit with Lord FitzGilbert. Perhaps he can see to any of the horses and care for our wounded in the fight.”
That decided, the diminished party set about their preparations.
Hopeful that Liam would indeed set out for Cazdow, Lord Douglas penned a letter to FitzGilbert. While Lord James did not know FitzGilbert well, he had spoken with the noble a few times, knowing him as a principled leader, even if his skills as a warrior lacked.
He would be certain to give Liam aid. More so if he expected his arrival.
It took some time to break the camp. The men, still drained from the battle, hurried about their duty. The motivation of the shadowy hamlets and spirits left behind was enough to drive them tiredly back into the saddle.
Lady Tatania drove the cart in the centre of the small formation. The wounded lay in the wagon next to the piled dead, moaning softly as the cart bumped along the road. Blankets covered them, padding their bodies against the bumps and shakes of travel.
Ten men rode with the Lord in the van, while Squire Glengarry and Iain brought up the rear with the Pages. The battle had cost them dearly, and now barely four in ten of the original party lived.
Her husband carried the great-axe in a bucket-sheath on his saddle. Something Glengarry had fashioned quickly from some of the leathers worn by the hob-goblins. She wasn't sure how she felt about the object. It looked terrifying, it's sweeping pick and wide blade reminding her of the axes supposedly wielded by the Jomsvikingr from her homeland centuries before.
Tatania hoped that whatever evils the axe had done in the past had not attached themselves to the weapon. She would have him take it to a priest to be blessed as soon as she could, just to make sure no evil spirits would harm him.
She was not usually a supersitious woman, but recent events had made her reconsider the presence of the spirit world.
As they moved out, Squire Glengarry had ridden to Cadzow Castle with the message to Lord FitzGilbert. Iain had wanted to go, but Glengarry said he was known to the Lord and was sure to be received well. For now, the group could merely hope that if Liam returned, he would decipher the signs they’d left for him and make his way to the keep.
Glengarry took his time. The Squire caught up to them nearly four hours later as they approached the walls of Glasgow.
His horse, blown and wide eyed, looked about to drop from fatigue. Tatania, as eager as everyone else to hear the news, listened in.
The Squire made his way next to Iain. “Lord!” he said, looking at Iain.
Iain merely looked surprised at being addressed.
“You took your time, Squire!” Lord James said. “Was there news from Cadzow? Why had FitzGilbert not cleared the hamlet himself?”
Glengarry frowned but turned to address the lord. “Apologies lord. I did not recognize you in this darkness. Lord Cadzow has received the message and promises to render what aid he can if Liam appears before his gates. As for his failure to protect his lands, the Orcs had also attacked the Keep. He lost many of his men.”
“Damn!” Lord Douglas swore. “FitzGilbert is a good man, but no warrior. I pray to God he learns. Maybe then I won't need to lose men protecting His estate.”
Once more reminded of the losses, the Lord of Douglas’s mood had turned morose. Tatania, knowing that it would take him time to calm down, studied Squire Glengarry. Something about him seemed different, but she could not quite place it. It was as though he was too fresh after the ride. She decided it must have been the Available Attributes he assigned and began discussing the King’s court once more with Princess Margaret. Perhaps he had put them into vitality?
She would have to investigate doing the same. Her back was aching from being hunched over the cart’s reins.
For the pages in the rear, the news lightened their mood considerably. They had stared at the back of the cart in silence, all thinking about what Liam must feel, alone and separated from his friends. Now they knew that the local lord would be supportive of their friend should he re-appear, their worries were greatly eased. All they could do now was hope that he somehow managed to return.
Up ahead, the glow of lanterns signaled they approached the town. The Burghers of Glasgow would certainly bar the gates this time of night, but the thick wall of the Burgh was a welcome sight. They rode the cart into a field beside the road into the town and built a fire, taking what little sleep came in the open air.
Tatania and the Princess had unrolled blankets near the fire. Tonight, they would sleep on the ground. The bed of the cart was full of the bodies of the dead and wounded.
Men changed the bandages of the injured, while the Pages busied themselves with the horses. Iain began servicing the Lord’s mail and arms. Andrew joined Iain, helping him with his duties, ensuring that despite the loss of a limb, Iain did not fail in his duties.
Seeing this, Lord James brought Iain aside and whispered to him. The grin that split the squire’s face brightened the mood of the party like the summer sun rising over a dark winter day. Immediately, he approached the Lady and the Princess.
“The Lord just told me I can still be his Squire!” He said excitedly. “I’ve never heard of a maimed squire, but I suppose I will just need to adapt to circumstances! I worried that when we reached Cardross, it would force me to leave you all.”
The Princess, just as elated that he chose to first share the news with her, almost forgot herself and leapt into his arms. She only restrained herself because the Lady had stepped before him, grasping Iain's hand. She scowled for a moment at the beautiful older woman.
“You should already know that, Iain.” The Lady said. “You are family now. We could not abandon you. Certainly not over such a trivial thing as a missing arm!”
Iain laughed. “It hardly felt trivial when it happened, Lady. But I thank you!”
The Princess, desperate now for Iain’s attention, looped an arm through his, marking her claim. “They certainly wouldn’t abandon you, Iain. Not after you were so brave and saved Liam and the Lord from that monster! I couldn’t bear seeing you hurt so!” Her voice had become coquettish as she tried to turn the Squires’ attention to herself.
Lady Tatania saw that the interplay between the two was not about to cease unless she came down on it hard. “You’d best go tell the pages, Iain. I’m sure they would also wish to congratulate you!”
As he left, Tatania and the Princess spun on each other.
“What do you think you’re doing?” They demanded of each-other in unison.
The Princess spoke, but the Lady of Douglas wasn’t having any of it. She grabbed the girl’s arm and pulled her down onto the blankets so they sat side-by-side.
“Don’t you dare play foolish games!” Tatania said, in that moment deciding to tell the young Princess the truth. She would have to grow up, or end up hurting others.
“Iain is a good young man, but to be involved with a Princess of the realm is unthinkable! You should know you put him in peril if even a hint of word escapes. Even a suggestion you’ve become infatuated with him - or worse, that he seduced you - will end his life!”
The Princess scowled. “I wouldn’t be putting him at risk! I’d simply need to tell father, and…” Tatania cut her words off. “And what? He’d see you wed and him still, but a Squire? Foolish girl.”
“Your father is ill, Margaret. Badly ill. He’s been growing worse over the last year, as you know. We are going to his side not because he is ill, but to hear his last bequests. To say goodbye.” She held the girl’s gaze, her voice becoming softer.
“Your father is dying, Highness. He cannot protect or coddle you. You must prepare yourself for worse. If your enemies at court are to gain control, you may find yourself married sooner than you wish.”
Margaret’s face scrunched in angry confusion. “Dying? He can’t be!” she hissed. “But… Is this why we… Why didn’t anyone tell me?”
Tatania looked at the turmoil the young woman was experiencing and sighed. “Because you’re too young.” She said. “We had hoped that it would be one of your sisters to tell you. You need to know the truth, and with everything that has happened, being prepared is the wiser course. You should know that this infatuation you have for Iain will only result in more heartache, and may very well cost him a great deal more than his future!”
She sat for a moment, hugging her knees before her sobs escaped her. “I’ll be alone! Mother is dead, Father is dying, even Marjorie is dead! Matilda hates me, and David… I don’t even think he remembers me!” she said, turning her tearful eyes to Tatania.
The Lady gathered her close. “You won’t be alone. Your brothers and sisters will be there for you, as shall we, and Iain, the pages and their fathers too, if the boys have any say in the matter! Knowing them, they do. You will need to grow up quickly, but if you ever need us for anything, all you need do is send word.”
Margaret wept her fear and shock out into the laced shoulder of the Lady. “Why didn’t he tell me? Write to me?” She asked the Lady of Douglas. Tatania could feel her tremble under her embrace.
“Highness, you truly understand nothing, do you!” The Lady admonished, her hand brushing the Princess’s hair. “When the King sent you away, how old were you?”
Margaret looked up at her. “It was when mother died. I was a girl.”
“Then I suppose you either no longer remember, or no one explained it to you. Your father is King less by the grace of God than by the might of his arm.” Tatania said. “He holds the clans and lords together because he won battles against the English king. He won those battles because he was healthy. Now he is not.”
Margaret nodded, following the words closely. “Among the Lords, and the clans, there are those who harbored resentments towards your father. Already many are at court, no doubt securing allies and favors to sway David and the Bishops to their way of thinking. While Robert may appoint a guardian until David is old enough, assassinations are possible, as are wars.”
To Tatania's motherly eye, Margaret looked about to burst. Flickering between outrage and grief. “They wouldn’t dare! I’d have their heads!” She said.
Lord James returned from overseeing his men’s camp. Overhearing the conversation, he approached and sat across the fire from them. “You sound like your father. He used to speak much the same way!” He said. “It works, so long as you ensure the right heads end up on the pike, but it doesn’t endear you to the people. You also need the might to cut those heads. Right now, your father’s enemies outnumber the loyal men. Which is why your father decided not to use those methods often.”
“But why would they want to harm me or anyone I choose to love?” Margaret asked. “I’m not to be queen, David will be King.”
“Were it so simple, dear,” the Lady said, “your brother is too young and cannot ascend the throne until he reaches his majority. They will choose a regent amongst the high lords. Depending on who it is, they may marry you off. If the Lords or clans secure you, they secure a powerful connection to the throne. If anything should happen to David, one of them may take up The Great Cause on your new husband’s behalf to choose a new King.”
She paused, making sure the Princess understood. “Were Iain or some other likely lad to impede those plans, well, many squires die in training.”
Margaret cried, her shame at seeing that Lord James overheard the bit about Iain finally breaking her composure.
The Lady gazed at her husband's face as he smiled at the princess. “I wouldn’t worry too much, Highness.” He said. “These things have a way of working out, despite my Lady’s insistence on the obstacles in your way. Sometimes obstacles are worth destroying. That’s for fate to decide.”
He turned to Tatania. “It reminds me of that old song you used to sing for Alexander. Villeman and Magnhild. Would you sing it for us?”
Gesturing that the Princess should rest her head on Tatania’s lap. She allowed the girl to settle before she began to sing, stroking the Princess’ hair, just like she had once done with her sons.
The Princess, comforted by the motherly presence, wrapped a blanket around her slight form. She listened as an ancient and slow song filled the night.
Tatania had first heard it as Villemann of Magnhild. A song from her home.
A song of fated love and hope.
It is fitting. For Margaret needs both now. As do we all.
She sang in her language. The Norse tune sounding softly throughout the field, men turned, some of them beating time on their shields softly. The dull thumping a slow boom, boom, boom in time to their heartbeat.
The song washed over the Lord.
James stared at his wife, astonished by the clarity of her voice, each note perfectly pitched. He’d never heard her sing like this before.
Knowing the tune from many years of hearing her sing to his sons, he joined in. His baritone in rough counterpoint to her dulcet tones.
Their voices started out softly, but soon rose in strength. As they did so, they lifted the spirits of the men.
Tatania wished those spirits would heal. That the cracks that had formed over the last days would fill with happier thoughts, their wounds and tired bodies would heal, and their souls reform. Her song flowed from her lips, and she closed her eyes, her intent causing her voice to gain strength.
She glowed, gaining a level from her song. A vision appeared in front of her eyes.
You have gained the Spell: Soul Song
Rarity: Uncommon
NOTE: Soul damage is unique to each soul.
Extent of Healing or Damage dealt is dependent on Magic Point expenditure.
A Soul Song is an uncommon spell, able to heal or damage those nearby depending on the singer’s intent.
She was about to stop singing and tell James, but she could feel something was… different.
As she sang, she could feel those souls around her. The heavy, comforting presence of James, the flickering flame of the princess, and the rough humor of the men. She could feel the Pages, the Squire, and the trauma and innocence they hid behind a brusque facade. Tears came unbidden to her eyes as she nudged the healing of the Soul Song into them all.
She couldn’t feel it, but her mana bar dipped as her intent drew upon the magic field available to her. It swept into the lilting melody, spreading it across the field. The Lady kept her eyes closed, feeling the wounds on the souls of the men. The unwounded barely noticed the changes to their spirit, minor fractures in their psyche knitting themselves together, nightmares washing away. Their darker thoughts replaced by a newfound tranquility, understanding, and a desire to protect.
Margaret listened to the words closely. She had learned some Norse at the Nunnery, enough to follow the song, and she wept anew when she heard of the capture of the maiden. She immediately cheered when Villeman played his harp so well he changed nature itself, boiling the lake and stealing the strength of the troll to kill the monster and free the maiden. The words of the song suggesting that he won because the runes willed it to be. She hoped the runes would help her and Iain.
The embrace of the Lady, the melody and the renewed hope gave the young princess a sense of comfort she had not felt since before her mother died. Laying herself upon the Lady’s lap, she sank into a gentle sleep.
Sometime later, the Lady and Lord finished their song. As they did, the Lady’s head dropped forward. Her chin resting on her chest as she sank into a helpless sleep, her mana entirely drained.
The listening men stood as the words faded, bowing low to the Lady and Lord in gratitude for the song.
Aidan, having heard the lilting melody and strange words, also felt better. His mind no longer struggling with his past but accepting it. Forming a resolve that no matter what, he would never allow those torments to be inflicted upon another soul if he could help it.
Within the tent where the wounded rested, a barely noticeable glow had formed around the men’s injuries.
The wounded stirred in their blankets, and unbeknownst to those in the field, near-mortal wounds slowly began to heal.
**********************
Dawn of the next day broke through a light fog, and the camp once more stirred. Lady Tatania, shaken awake by her husband, stirred slowly. She yawned and looked around. The Princess was already chatting happily with Iain, having ignored all reason, while the men and pages seemed much more content. All stood with backs straight, ready to face the day.
Hooves sounded from the direction of the town as a rider approached, having exited through a port of Glasgow’s burgh. He stopped some distance from the camp and called out. “Hail the camp, who are ye?”
Lady Tatania looked on from her blankets, hoping to catch some snippet of news.
“The Princess Margaret, accompanied by Lord Douglas and Lady Tatania with retinue.” Iain replied. “We are on the business of the King. Some creatures attacked as we came by Cadzow Castle yesterday. Ferniegair is no more!”
The rider, shocked at the news, rode closer, dismounting. He bowed low to the gathered nobles. “Hail Princess Margaret, My Lord, and Lady! The Bishop of Glasgow has sent me to extend his hospitality.” He said in formal greeting.
Lord James smiled. “Thank ye for the welcome, but we have no time for formality, nor to greet with the Bishop and accept his welcome hospitality. We seek a place to bury our battle dead and see our wounded tended before we proceed to the King’s court.”
The man looked at the cart, where the bodies of the dead lay frozen by the chilly night. “My God!” He said, making the sign of the cross. “May the Lord have mercy on them. I shall fetch out the knackers to move their bodies to the kirk.”
“Have you news of the System, or from the Lord Bishop?” The Lord asked.
The man shook his head. “We have discovered very little, Lord, and have heard even less. You are amongst the first visitors we’ve had from the South. We have seen strange creatures on the hills. One man say he saw a sea serpent rise out of the River not a day ago.”
“Well, we have much to tell and little time.” The Lord said.
Shouts of astonishment behind him made him turn.
Much to everyone’s surprise, one of the wounded was on his feet once more. He’d emerged from the tent looking about in confusion.
Those guards who had been tending their fellows wounds could not understand the sudden reversal in these men’s fortunes! Neither showed signs of being at death’s door. Rather, each seemed to be nearly a fortnight into their recovery. They called over the Lord and Lady. After inspecting both men, they saw the wounds had mostly closed, but the red-lines of the scars still showed gaps from where blood still seeped.
“Did either of you men receive any notifications from the system?” The Lord asked. One man nodded sheepishly. The other admitting he’d closed it before he read it. “So, do you still have it?” Lord James asked. He ignored his wife’s insistent tugging on his arm. Whatever it was, could wait.
“I do, Lord.” The man said.
“Well, man, show us!” the Lord demanded.
The vision appeared. The man explaining. “I went to sleep as soon as John and Malcolm tended my wounds and helped me eat. There was no message like this until I awoke.”
Your soul has been healed by an spell.
Your body will heal at 10x normal rate.
“Patrick there,” He gestured to the more badly wounded man, “he was unconscious since half-way through the journey. I didn’t think he’d be alive this morning. Instead, I wake to find my wound mostly healed and he able to sit up and chat away as if it didn’t fuss him any longer.”
The Lord nodded. “Very well. I suspect neither of you of witchcraft, but I am curious to know from where this magic came!”
The Lady nodded and dragged her husband away. “So am I!” she said.
The lord glowered at his wife. “What the hell Tatania! I was about to trying to discov…”
He tried to keep speaking as she kissed him, but soon couldn’t think of much beside the woman in his arms. She broke off the kiss, whispering, “It was the song!”
“The Song? What about it?” He asked, confused.
“I received a vision last night while singing. It’s a new spell called Soul Song. It lets me heal and do damage to souls as I will.” She said. “I didn’t think it a good idea to tell you in front of the men, especially after all the trouble Father Doreen was causing.”
Her husband sputtered. “You mean you…” He paused. “And Iain? Can you do something for him?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know, but he didn’t suddenly regrow the arm, so I doubt it.” She said. “The spell seems to encourage the soul to heal the body. It’s hard to explain, but last night I could feel the soul of every man in the camp. Healing each one. I suspect the soul takes damage if the body suffers a wound. For the body to heal quickly, the soul must be… whole. I’ve still got a great deal to learn about it!”
“Aye. But you must keep this a secret for now. Until the church sees fit to guide us on the System.” James stared at his wife, and she watched his eyes light up in sudden realization. “Robert!” he nearly shouted the King’s name. “Maybe if we can reach him in time, you can heal him!”
Without waiting for a response, he spun, his motive spirit fully engaged now that there was a clear hope he could save his friend. “Everyone Mount!” he roared. “We leave NOW!”
The men, pages and squires, paused their morning duties to stare a moment as the Lord ran to his horse. Saddling it himself and replacing the great-axe in it's sheath the Lord dressed quickly, pulling his mail over his head. He pushed Iain away to his own gear when he tried to help. "See to yours and then get the Pages saddled!" He ordered. "We must hurry to save the King!"
Seeing the desperate urgency of the Lord, the camp burst into a flurry of activity.
As the party readied to leave, Tatania watched as the knackers came from the city to fetch the dead for burial. Her husband ordering the still-wounded men to remain in Glasgow.
Her husband turned to the two wounded. "You men are to remain here. Go see the Squire. He shall ensure you have the coin to see the dead buried. Ask the priest to say masses for their souls, and wait here for Liam."
"If he has not come to Glasgow within a month and I have not returned, travel back to Douglas and inform Sir Keith of everything that has happened."
His orders given, the Lord mounted with the rest of the retinue. The Princess, confused by the sudden rush, rode up beside him. “My Lord Douglas, why are we suddenly in such a rush? Has something changed with the King?”
“No! Something has changed with us! We now have hope!"
He grinned. "We ride to deliver it to the King!”