Chapter 3:
Gone with the Wind
----------------------------------------
Legends tell of a place where life not only thrived but flourished. A place of bustling greens and untouched streams, of gentle winds and cloudless skies. It is a paradise for those who could find, where one need not shed the blood of another for food for there is plenty to be had, where warriors need not take arms to fight for land for it spanned endlessly. One horizon to another. A new world.
The perfect world. Galatea.
It sounded like a dream. A deadwood of a lie fed to the fire to keep the hope burning. I believed it to be futile...
...until I awoke to find myself under her care.
----------------------------------------
Astellar gasped. He frantically sat up, his hands shot to his chest to grasp a dagger that wasn't there. Cold sweat beaded his forehead, the clothes on his back drenched with the worst of it. His heart pounded into oblivion. His mind became a raging storm of thoughts, assessing every possible threat in the near vicinity with a sharp eye. It immediately focused on the familiar wing-like design of the sword's guard.
Sunstrike!
It was only when the prince felt a pair of slender arms snaked around his shoulders and heard a soft voice whispering sweet nothings in his ear that he finally allowed his mind to a state of calm.
"You had a nightmare," Candana concluded, mostly for her sake. Her chin rested on Astellar's shoulder, splaying her curled ebony locks down like a midnight waterfall.
Astellar nodded then clasped her hand in his, to reassure himself that he was indeed in a relatively safe place. He was given quarters in one of the many empty rooms of the castle. The hearth at the center did little to stave off the cold. Fortunately, there were other ways of doing so.
The memories of the previous night slowly started to trickle in his mind. He remembered listening to the reports from his commanders with their lieutenants behind them as the rest of the soldiers had their fun in the main hall below. A slightly-disheveled high magus barged in soon after and demanded she is presented with a reasonable explanation about the incident in the throne room. The rest of the people in the room wisely decided to leave.
Somehow, the discussion of the fate of their nation descended into a night of unbridled passion. One of many, and certainly not the last.
Astellar took note that it was still dark outside.
"I'm here if you need me," The magus whispered. "Now until forever, Aste,"
Astellar smiled. It was these moments that he cherished the most: when he need not don the mask and armor of the gallant and noble prince, and Candana Allestesia need not be the high magus and heiress to a dying house, whose shoulders carry the weight of both title and does it with a stoic facade perfected with continued use.
"Until forever, Candy." He replied, earning a light jab on his arm. Astellar chuckled.
"That was a name I haven't heard in a long time. I'm surprised you haven't forgotten about it after all these years." She said seriously, but the corners of her lips betrayed what she really felt. "But then again, I'm happy you didn't."
Astellar turned to face his lover, then gave her a peck on the lips. "Never."
This reminded him of a time long past when everything was still simple. Back then, they were unburdened by the weight of their names and station, and simply lived the life of innocence. They basked in the warmth of the summer sun and enjoyed every moment of it. Then duty drove them both apart, only to reunite them again in the winter wind.
"It is the one and will always be my greatest fear, you know," Candana said, her eyes refused to meet his.
The prince frowned. It was rare to see the magus in a state of emotional vulnerability, a sight showed only to him and him alone. Heavens know Candana had seen her fair share from the prince.
"It won't happen." Astellar reminded her.
His lips met hers.
The rays of the morning sun came and found the two of them snuggled comfortably into each other's arms after yet another bout of coupling. They can't help it, they're living in a borrowed time after all. Astellar prayed to whoever would hear him that this moment never end. Sadly, it was not to be. So the prince did the next best thing, he buried his head in the warmth of his lover and vowed he'd cherish what little time they had together.
They had their duties, after all.
"You should talk to the boy," Candana said. They were dressed now and fully awake. The magus was seated in front of a mirror as she brushed her long hair. "It was, after all, your decision to take him under your wing."
The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
Their eyes met through the reflection. "You disapprove?"
Candana nodded. "Yes, I do. The way I see it, you've literally just invited a wolf to your front door. Who's to say he won't be a threat to you? Will you be watching your back every second you're in the same room together?"
"I'm confident I can handle him."
"Then think about your family, my prince. It's no secret your wife views the beastmen as inferior beings barely worthy of her time. Think about the children, Aste!"
"You know I think about them all the time."
Guilt flashed momentarily in Candana's eyes. "I didn't mean it like that."
Now it was Astellar's turn to feel guilty. With a sigh, he said, "I know you don't. I love my children with all my heart, you know I do, and will do everything that I can to keep them safe from any harm that may befall them."
The magus swiveled her body to face her prince. "Then explain to me why--"
"Because the beastmen are not our enemies," Astellar interrupted.
"They. Attacked. First." Candana countered. "Can you reassure me they won't do the same again?"
"They were desperate," The prince said, ignoring the groan of protest from the magus. He walked to the far end of the room away from Candana and poured himself a glass of southern strong wine. Then he said, "All they ever wanted was a way out, a chance to live, a hope for a better future. And I gave it to them."
Candana at this point could only sigh. "It was times like these that I do not understand what you are trying to say, Aste."
"What is it you don't understand, my love? I have the means to save a desperate tribe from extinction, and I exercised those means. And if it meant that the kingdom of my father will gain an ally then I say I did right."
"An ally?" Candana questioned. Her voice returning to its usual calm indifference. "You don't know that. They might as well side with our enemies when we are most vulnerable."
"No, they won't," Astellar answered. "The northern beastmen value loyalty, second only to their will to survive. You read the books, they were once a fractured group of tribes in a constant battle with one another until a tribe prevailed."
"The Wolven tribe."
The prince nodded. "The Wolven tribe united the rest of the beastmen through conquest. A hierarchy was formed, with the Wolven at the top of it, always."
"Not always." The black-haired magus stated. "They were usurped once by the Ursain tribe who had always contested them in power."
"True, and now the Ursain tribe is no more. The Wolven controls the north, and we have the Wolven's heir."
Candana shook her head. "You killed his father, remember? Did you think the child would simply forget that after the last surviving member of his family knelt in surrender? He'd strike against you -against your family- the moment he can. My prince, allow me to cast a spell to discourage him from hurting you in any way."
"He won't." He said, flashing the magus with an enigmatic smile. "He can't."
----------------------------------------
A resounding slap echoed throughout the stone hallways of the castle.
The Wolven King stood over the small frame of his grandson, The pup brought a hand to his now-reddened cheek, fighting a losing battle against the tears that threatened to burst out from his shock-stricken eyes.
"You will do as I command and that is final." The Wolven king glared down to the fallen figure in front of him. The servants, after seeing the intensity of that look, wisely scurried away as fast as their feet can take them. Which is for a Wildekin, very fast indeed.
The pup matched the elder with one of his own. "He killed father." The dam holding back the child's tears finally broke.
The King sighed and allowed his anger to dissipate into the wind. "No, child. The southern prince defeated your father in combat. There is a difference."
"There is none!" The boy snapped. "He had died for nothing!"
The Wolven pup suddenly felt a hand tighten around his neck. He was lifted effortlessly into the air by the King until they are both at eye level with each other. His feet dangled helplessly above ground, fingers clutched tightly around the wrist of the hand that held him aloft. The Wolven king leaned closer and whispered the child's name. The pup's eyes widened after being addressed in such a way that there was no other choice but to be silent.
"I never want to hear those words leave your mouth ever again. Do you understand me?" The king's voice hinted a sense of malice. "Do not taint your father's sacrifice with your ignorance, pup. He fought so that you, and many others, may have a chance to live." His tone then became calmer, melancholic even. "Your father and I may not agree with each other more than I preferred but we can always agree on one thing: our bloodline is cursed."
"C-cursed?" He choked.
"Yes, cursed. Even the land is tainted with death. That is why we agreed that salvation is not to be found here in these frozen waste, but lay elsewhere."
"South." The pup concluded. "Th-that is why you attacked, isn't it?"
The Wolven King nodded. "I always thought first about the future of our kind."
"Now my father is dead."
"And dead he will forever be." The King countered. "Neither your tears or your cries will be able to bring him back to life."
The pup had always reminded him of his son when he was the same age. They both had fires in their eyes that shone brightly despite the coldness they wish to portray. A similar conversation had happened a long time ago between the Wolven King and his son. It was difficult not to draw from the similarities between the then and now.
"I am not asking you to forget. All I ask is that you do not let his sacrifice fall in vain."
The King released his grip from his grandson's neck. He waited for the child to regain his footing before he turned around and walked, beckoning for the pup to follow.
"Now, come. It is time we say our farewells to everyone who gave their lives."
----------------------------------------
The procession was silent. A sizeable crowd gathered outside in the courtyard to bid farewell to the fallen. The bodies were laid side by side with their brothers-in-arms on a stack of oiled wood, weapons in their hands and a prayer to start them on their way. The southerners watched from afar, inside where it is warm and away from the freezing cold.
The Wolven King walked resolutely with a lit torch in hand.
"Go with the wind." the crowd muttered under their breaths.
The torch was lowered and the pyre quickly burst into flames. Perhaps fittingly, it burned like a beacon of hope that lead to a new future.
..