The Birth Of Nago



 

  For my Friends

 

 

  © Robbie Tylman, 2015

 

 

  “Lord Bard. There is a man who wishes to see you.” The lord looked up from a paper in his hand. He had a blank face with a dull brown beard. His eyes, an empty green, peered at his servant.

  “Yes. Let him in. But stand guard outside. Should anything happen, I want you there.”

  “Yes Ser.” The servant left, and Lord Bard looked back down at his paper. A few moments later, there was a tap on the door.

  “Come in.” The door opened, and a slender cloaked man stepped in.

  “Sit.” The figure sat. He removed his cloak and laid it on his lap.

  “I - I am Jory,” The man said. “Jory of Amidsnest.” He had a young face. No more than fifteen years Lord Bard guessed. His face was bright with energy, but also serious, and frightened.

  “I bring word from Lord Yelas.” His eyes darted around the room, and then focused on the lord once more. Lord Bard remained silent, and expressionless.

  “He is to wed. On the sixteenth of Bali. He wishes you, and your family to come and witness the event. He says he would be overjoyed, if you came, to honor the... the occasion.” The Lord leaned back on his couch. For a few moments, he looked at the ceiling, then lowered his head. He licked his upper lip.

  “Tell your lord, that I shall come to this wedding. As for my family, I do not know. I shall discuss the matter with them at supper tonight.” He picked a quill from a table next to his couch, and moved it around his fingers.

  “You have ridden far. The road is not safe on an empty belly, no? I insist you come to supper tonight. You will be supplied a room for the night, and you may leave at dawn.”

  “Ser  I, I should really be leaving. I must. It’s unwise to leave Lord Yelas waiting.”

  “If you must. Can we at least supply you new food and drink? Your journey is long, and know doubt what little food you have is bad or used up.” Jory had an uneasy look on his face.

  “...Ok...thank you. Your kindness is great Lord Bard.” The Lord nodded in gratitude.

 

  * * *

  Joane hurried down to hall, clenching fabric of her long dress. It was supper, and she was in dire need to talk with her husband. She came to a large door, slightly ajar, and pulled it open. Inside, the dining hall was near deserted, except her family and a few servants eating at the edge of the long main table. Long wooden beams stretched down from the high ceiling, and mazes of other bare tables were dotted around them. At the end of the main table, she spotted a roast pig, and a few wooden bowls of assorted vegetables. There was a spot beside her husband that was empty. She walked down a aisle of tables, then sat.

  “Good Evening Lady.” The librarian said. Bolden was his name. He was an old, weak man, but, he did good work in the library: sorting, and stacking the many books it had. He was mostly bald, except of a small mess of white hair on the top of his head.

  “And to you.” Joane responded. She did not know the man well, but she found him nice, and caring. The librarian nodded in thanks, and went back to eating some vegetables. A servant reached from behind Joane and placed a plate of moist pork in front of her. She then asked the Lady if she wanted a drink. Joane shook her head ‘no’, thanked the servant, and sent her on her way. The, she turned to her husband sitting at the head of the table. He was slowly chewing on a piece of pork, and staring at a servant in the back of the room, chatting with the chef. When he sensed Joane’s eyes, he turned and focused on her.

  “Good Evening!” He grinned. He swiped his glass from the table and took a big gulp.

  “You must try this wine! It’s extraordinary!” Joane looked uneasily at the red liquid and shook her head. She was in no mood to drink.

  “Good Evening,” She smiled back. “Dear, we must talk.”

  “Ah! I was about to say the same to you!” he responded. “We’re going to a wedding!” Joane lightly laughed. She stabbed a cube of meat with her fork and swallowed it. The pork was warm and well seasoned.

  “What wedding?” She said once finished chewing. “Lord Yelas! The old log finally found a woman. Took him long enough!” He took another sip of his wine. He was drunk.

  “Ah,” Joane whispered. “Lord Yelas. He’s a fine warrior.”

  “Indeed! Bolden had joined in. “He was trained by Ser Gaulding! A trainer of amazing talent! A fine trainer for a fine warrior, no?”

  “Yes! Yes!” added Lord Bard. “Say? Where has Gaulding gone? I remember the news a long while back of his disappearance.”

  “They say he was ambushed by bandits or pirates on the road to Rivergreen. But I think he was captured by those damned Orcs. I think they tried to sell him back to his family for a handsome price.”

  “Yes! He does come from a rather wealthy family.”

  “Dear,” Joane broke in. “I must discuss my ma--”

  “Those damned Orcs. I’ll tell you Bolden, if I see one of those little Orcs I’ll smash their heads in myself!” Joane watched the two men blabber on until the whole room was empty except them. Once the pork was done, servants took it and brought out a wonderful Fruit cake. But that was long since.

  “Ser. I cannot thank you enough for such a brilliant meal.” Bolden announced as he began to stand up.

  “And the same to you,” Replied Lord Bard. “I cannot remember the last time I’d had a conversation that wonderful.”

  “Good evening.” Groaned Bolden. He bowed, turned around, and wobbled out of the dining hall. Joane still sat in her chair, bored sick.

  “We will discuss your issue in our chambers.” Bellowed Lord Bard. He began to slowly rise.

  A few moments after Joane’s husband staggered out of the hall, she awoke from her daydreams. She became lost in thought of a childhood memory, of all things. She put her arms of the table and pushed down, flexing them. Then, she too began to rise, pushing her chair back, and slowly standing to her feet. The, she blew out the candle on the table, and walked out.

 

  Joane walked down the dark halls of Nyhey Castle. It was late, and not a sound was to be heard. Usually, during the day, servants and knights swarm the castle halls. But now, in the dark of night, not a single person was in sight.

  Along the walls, banners hung. Joane’s favourites were a blue banner that depicted The Malign Campaign: A battle between the eleven islands of Dure, and a green banner that told of The Ghastly Crusade: a terrible battle between all the forty-five cities of The Dominion of Crowns. The winner is still debated upon for that battle, but most people believe it to be Dorwine, the city of sands.

  Joane had been to Dorwine once.  It was a brilliant city carved into the side of a mesa. She remembered the beautiful carvings on the sandstone dwellings. Wondrous patterns they were. The Jarl said they were carved by prisoners. They were to be granted freedom, regardless of crime, if they did service to the city. An interesting thought.  She figured the Jarl would have made this deal knowing nobody of extreme danger was rotting in the dungeons. At the time, the prisoners were probably only robbers and bandits. Simple criminals.

  She kept walking down the dark hall. The wall of banners had ended now, and the only thing of interest was the pattern of the stone walls, and the occasional flicker of a torch.

  She eventually made her way to a stairwell, and made her way up it. It was hard work climbing the stairs, and at the top Joane stopped for a brief rest. Her chambers were near. She passed the pitch black library, where Bolden worked, and a few servant chambers. Still not a sound to be heard. Joane was exhausted. For some reason, the most uneventful of days seemed to be the most tiresome.

  Finally, she came to h
er chambers. It was a big comfortable room, warm and cozy. Beside her large bed, a candle danced around. To her right the door to the balcony was slightly open, letting in the fresh air of the night, and in front of her, the closed door of her husband’s study. Joane changed into night clothes and then sat on her bed. Lord Bard was in the study, no doubt. She did not dare fetch him, as he did not let anyone, not even his own wife and children into it without permission. She had seen the inside a handful of times though. A plain room, with bookshelves lining the walls, a couch, and a desk. He spent many hours in that room, working, writing and reading, resting, or seeing visitors. She never took much interest in that. She had her own things to worry about.

  But, at this moment she had to worry. She had important information, and she was not going to wait any longer. She stood up, walked to the door, and tapped it three times.

  “Dear,” She said in a soft, but harsh tone, “ I am near done with waiting. I must speak with you.” No response. Joane sighed. He was probably either asleep or reading a book of some sort. She reached for the knob. She guessed it was made of oak, but she could have been wrong. She took a deep breath, and went in. Empty.

  Joane began to panic. If he was not in his study where else could he be? She began walking to the balcony. A sweet breeze flowed out from outside. She pulled the door open, To receive a light gust of wind to her face. In front of her was a beautiful view of the Jade Sea, and the dead body of her husband.