"Shadows of Karath-Sel ~Chapter Two~" by Ly M. Frick

Chapter Two: The Mourning of Lildian

It took Ashen a long moment to realize she had awoken. Darkness met her eyelids the moment they’d opened and she blinked a few times in confusion. Why was it so dark? Where was she? The child felt no sense of panic as she rose slowly to her feet. She was clutching something in her left hand and lifted the object to her face, though she couldn’t actually see it. The girl could feel it though and it took her only a touch to realize it was her pale purple orb.

With a sudden rush of emotions, the child remembered what had happened the last time she’d been holding the orb. A strong urge to fling the stone ball away from herself lost to her overall love of the object. She hugged the ball to her chest and looked around the inky blackness that had engulfed the room. She had no idea how long she’d been down there, nor where she now stood in the room in comparison to the only exit.

Light would be nice

, she thought dully to herself, hunching her shoulders and slouching as if being even smaller would protect her from the darkness. As if answering her request, the orb in her hand blazed to life, sending the darkness fleeing for the corners of the room. Ashen screeched and closed her eyes, covering them with her free hand. She waited with baited breath for the monsters to reappear in her vision and it took the child a long moment before she pried her eyes open to cast a glance around. There were no abominations haunting the room as she thought there would be. Instead, her little orb glowed a rather welcoming lavender-white. Looking at it carefully, Ashenoko wondered what made it light up so suddenly. It was a marvelous trick. She wondered for a moment if it would go out and didn’t like the idea of being left in the dark.

Holding her new light aloft, the child hurried for the doorway, slipping through it. She wasn’t sure how long she’d been gone and didn’t wish to delay her return much longer. Mildar would be angry that she had gotten so dirty when she had just changed. The dusty room tended to be hard on the pale clothing the child wore. Anything darker, though, would’ve given her a more washed-out look. It was one thing to look like a specter. It was another entirely to look like living death. “Pale people do not wear black,” Mildar had once told her when she looked in adoration at a new dress Rhordinin had gotten from their father. “Your father has gotten you lavender. It suits you better.” Ashenoko hadn’t argued with the nurse maid that took care of the Darcsha daughters. The old woman could be as strict as her father.

As Ashen neared the more used area of the servants’ corridors, she looked at her ball in sudden concern. How will I hide you from Mildar? she asked the orb silently. If you keep glowing, she’ll find you for sure- Ashen startled as the sphere’s light was extinguished immediately. How wonderful you are! she praised it, delighted. Now if only you’d go invisible, she thought hopefully. Nothing happened and Ashenoko frowned. The ball wasn’t glowing but it was still a fairly large piece of stone. She would have to get back to her room and hide it before the nurse saw her. Pulling a handkerchief from the ruffled sleeve of her dress, she wrapped up her treasure and tucked it down the front of her garment. It bulged awkwardly, but if Ashen moved quickly enough, no one would notice... she hoped.

* * *

Ashen took a moment to check the position of the sun in the sky when she passed a narrow window in an old, hardly used passage that would lead her the hallway outside her room. She was relieved to see it had not moved more than a couple hours since she’d come inside. It was likely that Mildar would be off cleaning something. Apart from being the nurse maid, she was also one of the various house maids and usually spent the afternoon cleaning the downstairs parlors.

Emerging into the deserted hallway, the child scrambled across the rug-covered planked floor to her door and yanked it open. She disappeared inside and shut the door quickly, bolting it closed. Her room was dim, the shutters on her window closed tightly since she wasn’t inside. There was still enough light to see by, though, and the girl set the orb on her bed while she searched her room for a suitable hiding place for her trinket. As she walked, a floorboard squeaked under foot. Frowning, Ashen looked down at the rug she stood on. Wasn’t there a loose board?

On her hands and knees, Ashenoko pushed the carpeting to the side and searched for the squeaky wooden plank. She found it easily enough and wrenched it out of the floor a little ways. Grabbing her orb, she held it next to the dark space in her floor and hesitated to drop it in. What if she couldn’t get it out again? She couldn’t see how deep it was. Standing, the girl threw open her shutters, letting in the golden afternoon sunlight. With the sunshine illuminating her room, the girl could see that the hole was not very deep at all. She dropped the orb in and quickly replaced the board and the rug. She should go downstairs soon, she thought absently to herself. She had chores to do. Brushing off her skirts, Ashen frowned and went to her wardrobe before leaving. She needed a change of clothing. Pulling a clean dress over her head, she left the other one in a pile on her floor before vacating her room and heading down the hall toward the grand stairwell.

* * *

The small child paused at the railing right above the stairs, gazing down to the first floor of the antechamber. A puzzled look graced her tiny features. Her father stood next to an unknown man, a piece of parchment in his hand. Lord Darcsha’s brow was furrowed deeply, though not in the way it usually folded when he was upset with her. This look was more troubled and, in a strange way, saddened. Ashenoko had never seen her father sad that she could remember, though whisperings of the servants occasionally mentioned the Lord wiping away tears at his wife’s funeral.

Curiosity overcame her initial tentativeness as she quickly descended the stairs to stand next to her father. The other man present stared at the child for a long moment, eyebrows raised so high they almost disappeared beneath the flopping bangs hanging over his forehead. He had heard rumors of a young, ghostly child born to the wealthy noble but had not quite believed it until now. The child’s typical reaction to the close scrutiny was rather usual, however, as she attempted to hide behind her father’s leg, gripping the cuff of his thigh-length boot. Lord Darcsha may have been harsh with his youngest, but he was still her protector. Her shy actions ceased the staring of the unknown man as he dismissed her for a rather normal acting child.

After a long moment, the Lord handed the man a few golden coins, dismissing him with a wave of his hand. The other man bowed and headed out, his message delivered and services paid for. Darcsha still gazed at the letter in silence after the departure of the messenger, though. It wasn’t until Ashen tugged on his boot cuff urgently that he looked down at his youngest.

“Daddy? Something wrong?” the child asked, true concern showing as she drew her eyebrows together in confusion. “Who was that man?”

The Lord sighed and placed a hand on top of his offspring’s head in a very odd displace of affection before motioning away dismissively. “Go fetch your sisters and tell them to gather in my study. And tell Mildar to find Quiston. This is a matter for the entire family.”

Still bewildered, Ashenoko jogged off to do as her father said, partially wanting to make up for her earlier faux pas of staying out in the wheat fields by being prompt in following his orders. He didn’t seem to notice her, however, as he headed upstairs to his private study, still looking in muted anxiety at the letter in his hand.

* * *

Lord Darcsha sat wearily in his large, overly stuffed armchair as he surveyed his young brood. The boy, Quiston, almost a man now, was filthy from working in the forests with the woodcutters, gathering firewood for the approaching fall and winter. For a brief moment, the Lord of the Manor felt pride for his hardworking heir. It was good for a man to work with his people for the good of everyone. He believed no one could really rule until they’d met and helped their people. Such philosophies had made Lord Darcsha a very popular noble amongst the working class.

That aside, he gazed at his daughters, lips pressed thin. His eyes fell last on Ashenoko. Expelling another long breath, the Lord fingered the paper in his hands. “You all know well,” he started slowly, “that the Queen has been very ill.” He spoke slowly, making an attempt to be clear for the benefit of his youngest. He did not realize she was as bright as she was and didn’t need him to speak in such a manor, but she did not correct him. Whatever his was about to say was obviously highly important for him to have called his son in from a hard days work. “A few days ago, her majesty died from her illness. Unfortunately, we have been called to Court to attend her burial. This is a very serious matter.” His eyes flickered to where his eldest daughter sat. “There will be no merry making while we are there, we go in mourning and in nothing else. No bright colors, no light colors. Wear nothing flashy. Mildar will assist in the packing. Go now and prepare yourselves. We will leave tomorrow morning. You are dismissed.”

* * *

Ashen did not fully understand why she was mourning for a Queen she never knew. The woman who had died had been sickly for many years, long than Ashen had lived according to Mildar, and was expected to die before winter. Also, Ashen had learned from her lessons that Lildian was only the first of three Queens currently married to King Velkarth. When there were two perfectly healthy wives to take her place, why was everyone so upset? The child hadn’t realized that, of the three wives, Lildian had cared most for the people her husband ruled. She was a wonderful woman who had truly loved her husband and had his love in return. The other wives were merely married by Velkarth for political reasons. These things, however, were too complex for Ashen to fully comprehend at her age.

The carriage ride through the countryside was slow and Ashen spent most of it staring in wide-eyed wonder out the window of the enclosed buggy they were taking. Though the rest of her family had donned velvety black mourning garb, the child was still refused the lovely cloth. Instead, Mildar had clad the pale daughter in a dusky gray that better suited Ashen’s complexion. She did not overly mind, however. It gave the child a sense of uniqueness, though she didn’t need clothing to do that. Dark grays were also acceptable mourning colors, so no obscure rule had been broken by refusing the girl black skirts and blouses.

The mood of those in the carriage was subdued, even Rhordinin seemed unexcitable as they neared the capitol of Karath-Sel, a city known as Sel-Alon. Ashen did not see the large, bustling trade city as they passed through the various levels of living conditions on their way to the palace. She had fallen asleep, leaning on the shoulder of Rowan who did not mind her younger sister much and actually had affectionate feelings towards the child. The eleven-year old gazed out her window in awe. She had never been to such a large town before. Her father’s tendencies to be a recluse did not lend easily to travel. She glanced at her elder siblings and then at her father, wondering what thoughts ran through their minds as they came closer to the King Velkarth’s domain.

* * *

Ashen had drawn unwanted attention the moment she stepped groggily out of the carriage onto the warm cobblestones of one of the various palace courtyards reserved for visiting nobles. Holding Rowan’s hand, the child hurried along beside her family as a page showed them inside the looming stone walls of an immense castle. Ashen stared at in in mute wonder. How could something be so big?

Eyes wide with marvel, the child tried to glance in every direction at once the moment they were lead to a set of large doors somewhere deep within the palace. They had only a few minutes to make themselves presentable as they had to be formally acknowledged by the King before they could retire to their rooms for a much needed rest. Ashen stood still while Rowan smoothed down the child’s hair and tugged at her dress in an attempt to make it behave. The carriage ride had ruffled the skirts but they were presentable enough for a quick acknowledgement. The King was currently holding his appointments and would have time only for the brief formality that was needed to greet his guests.

Gathering before the large, carved doors stained a deep reddish brown, Ashen clutched at Rowan’s hand and the elder girl held it without qualms. The portal opened and the child saw what to her was a long black carpeted walk surrounded by people in dark, mourning colors. At the end, on a raised dais, sat a man dressed in the same drab colors. His trim, bearded face seemed drained. The death of his beloved Lildian was taking a dark toll on him, though he tried not to show it.

A herald banged an intricately carved wooden staff upon the flagged floor and announced in a clear, booming voice: “The Lord Selvis Darcsha and children. Lord Quiston. Lady Rhordinin. Lady Rowan. Lady Ashenoko.”

As they walked briskly down the carpet, Ashen attempted to melt into Rowan’s skirts. She did not like the looks she received from the courtiers any more than they liked the look of the pale, spirit-esque child that walked behind Lord Darcsha. In an attempt to ignore the people, Ashen let her eyes wander the room in which the King did all his daily business. It was draped in blacks, browns, and grays. The room seemed to be mourning, too, and Ashen wondered why they decided to be so dreary. Wasn’t Lildian’s death better than her living sickly?

The audience with Velkarth lasted only a few moments and, soon afterwards, the Darcshas left for their quarters. Each Lord had a set of rooms belonging to him in the Palace, though Darcshas’ had gone unused for many years. The servants had kept it dust free, however, in the off chance that the isolationist Lord made an unexpected visit.

* * *

Ashen stood awkwardly beside her father, holding his hand. He was sympathetic towards his daughter’s appearance for the first time in a long while, letting her gain comfort from him as many of the nobles standing around them in accordance to rank stared openly at the child. The Darcshas’ were a prestigious family and, thus, they held the position directly to Velkarth’s right. Though it was a social bonus, the position allowed easy viewing of the small anomaly clinging, terrified, to Selvis’ left hand. His position did, however, warrant him full authority to glare openly at anyone who dared give such blatant disrespect towards his youngest.

The arrival of Lildian’s coffin took all attention away from the little girl and she couldn’t help but sigh in relief. Watching curiously, Ashen saw many of the gathered nobles dab their eyes with linens, and not just females. Gazing up at her father’s face, she saw his eyes harden in an obvious attempt to keep his dignity. Lildian was much loved by more than just her husband. She had touched most everyone she had ever known. Selvis had known her from boyhood and to see her final bed lowered into the cold ground hit a sour note somewhere in his heartstrings. The child felt her father’s hand tighten around her own but didn’t wiggle to get away. A slight sob was chocked back by Selvis as the Eskran Priest, his deep black robe billowing in a slight breeze, drew symbols over the grave and started to intone in an ancient language the Last Rites of Burial for the beloved Lildian.

Another hiccupped keening sounded from the little girl’s left and she looked over at the boy standing directly next to her. He was considerably older, between Rowan and Rhordinin’s ages, though he didn’t seem to have any problems with crying in public. Tears streamed freely down his adolescent face, black hair hanging limply past his shoulders. He hadn’t bothered to tie it back. Wiping tears on his black sleeves, the elder child’s hand shook as he brushed back his straight locks. Even at her young age, Ashen could see a striking resemblance between the boy and the King who stood some distance away. There were a number of other children standing between this prince and his father. On the other side of Velkarth stood his other wives and their children. Somehow Ashen’s mind made a connection between boy and the woman they all mourned. This prince was one of Lildian’s sons.

After the ceremony, Lord Darcsha had gone off to speak with some old friends, leaving his children to themselves. Ashenoko wandered away from her siblings, gazing around the royal graveyard for one person in particular. She spotted the young prince sitting by himself behind a large epitaphic carving of an eagle that marked the grave of some great-great ancestor. Bleak blue eyes watched her approach and, as soon as Ashen was within earshot, the boy glared at her. “What do you want?” he demanded crossly, still hiccupping.

“She was your mother, wasn’t she?” Her blunt question caught the boy off guard and he nodded mutely. “I’m sorry.”

The anger flashed back into the prince’s eyes and he pulled his knees to his chest, hugging his legs. “How would you know? You’re too young to understand this.”

Ashen looked at the grassy ground for a long moment, hands clasped in front of her before she took a few more steps and sat gracelessly in front of the elder child. “Do you remember her? I mean, really remember her?” Again, it was a question that slammed into the unprepared defenses of the boy.

“Well, yes. I’m old enough to understand this,” he murmured quietly, fighting the urge to cry. His efforts were obvious and Ashen reached into her sleeve to pull out a handkerchief. She offered it to the prince and the boy took it from her with a great deal of surprise. He wiped away tears that slipped in unwelcome drops down his cheeks.

“You should be glad about that, then.”

The prince froze, his face flushing red then paling. “How dare you?” he hissed suddenly. “My mother just died and you dare to tell me to be glad? Do you have any idea in that baby brain of yours what... what... she just... my mother! She was my mother!” Fresh sobs racked the young man’s throat and he hid his face in his knees, tossing aside Ashen’s handkerchief.

Ashen remained silent for a long moment, her head bowed. She saw the white linen in the corner of her mind and picked it up. Holding it tightly in her small hands, she looked back at the prince. “My mother died long ago. I hardly remember her. You should be glad you still have those memories.”

The prince’s head jerked up and he really looked at the small girl who had come to bother him. With her dark gray clothing and mourning wimple, he hadn’t realized she was the little ‘ghost-child.’ Looking at her closely, he could see color in her cheeks and in her eyes. She didn’t seem so odd up close. Her hair, rumored to be white, was hidden under the large gray kerchief covering her head. “You’re the Darcsha girl. I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

Ashen nodded and gave a small shrug. “I hardly remember her.” They sat in silence for a long time, each in their own thoughts. Ashenoko had not really felt any sorrow for the passing of the First Queen until she’d realized that the woman was a mother that was leaving behind children just as her own mother had done. Now, sitting with the youngest son of Lildian, the girl felt tears welling up in her eyes.

“What’s your name?” Ashenoko’s question broke the silence that had become heavy with mourning. The boy looked up at her and wiped his face on his sleeves.

“Vekar. You’re Ash..uhm.” A slight color came to the boy’s cheeks. “I’m sorry. I’m terrible at names.”

“Ashen,” the child supplied. “Of the Darcsha family,” she added. “I stood next to you during the ceremony... but you were too busy to see me.” Vekar nodded absently.

“I should be going.” The prince stood and Ashen got to her feet as well, dusting off the back of her skirts. The young boy hesitated for a long moment before, in a mimic of an adult gentleman, took the little girl’s hand and kissed it quickly. “Thank you, Lady Ashen.” Vekar hurried off, still attempting to wipe his face free of tears on his shirt sleeve.

Ashen was unsure of what she had just been thanked for, but attempted a courtesy at his retreating back, failing as she stumbled forward. Her balance needed work but it wasn’t important. She had done some sort of service to a prince and was thanked for it. Smiling to herself, the girl walked back toward her siblings who were beckoning to her to hurry. They wished to go inside and eat as breakfast had been delayed for the burial. Ashen did not make them wait but kept them guessing about what she seemed so pleased about. It irritated her siblings as they did not know where she had disappeared to shortly after the burial. Ashen felt justified in keeping her secret and furtively delighted in how jealous she knew Rhordinin would react if the elder had known that one of the princes had treated her outcast of a sister like a true court Lady.

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AN: Okay, Chapter tow is finito. Yay! I did something productive!

Questions, Comments and CONSTRUCTIVE Critz always welcomed.