War of the Heart - Part One
By: Catrysa Quintopar Trakand (Claudia Carranza)
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‘War of Hearts, Part One’ by Catrysa Trakand
Tourney Date: June 14, 2003 – Silver Spire MidReign
Crats: Edana Delaney of Hollowfist and Sage Dragoria
Note: The original was written by hand. In typing it to electronic format, some names have been reworked, grammar and spelling corrected, and details changed to better fit the flow of the story.
Memories drift past my eyes
Of light and dark
Of joy and sorrow...
A scream pierced the silence of the dawn, a sharp shrill cry. It sang of heartache and stopped as suddenly as it began.
Liana bolted upright in her bed, shaking off the haze of dreams that clung, still, to her mind like a frightened child. Her heart racing, she glanced down at the sleeping face of her daughter; the only living link to her husband, dead these six years past.
Shaken and unable to fall back asleep, Liana rose quietly, and stole down to her living chamber, brushing back her sleep mussed hair.
‘Silly,’ she mused to herself, the cool water she splashed on her face refreshing, ‘It’s just a stupid dream. It doesn’t mean anything.’
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“Enter,” a deep voice rang from inside the command tent. A young page, hardly more that two hands of years, peeked gingerly into the lantern lit interior. “Set your message on the table and see Cook about a meal.”
The camp commander sat behind his desk. A tall man, his hard eyes never once left the maps spread out before him until after the page’s departure. Steel colored eyes regarded the wood and leather scroll case for long moments, before his sword-calloused hands took it up. He turned it over a few times then broke the wax seal. A yellowed parchment slid into view.
Lord General Treven,
It does my heart good to know your men are in good spirits. The siege on El’emor is complete; the Ruling Lord surrendered. Take Redmond Castle before the end of Lithia Night’s Festival. My forces, the ones not holding El’emor Palace, are camped at Bilberry Bridge. We will march on Redmond in two fort nights. I will meet you at the palisade wall before the new year.
High Priest Savit’ha.
‘Redmond Castle,’ Treven sighed, setting the letter alight with the small flame of a nearby candle. ‘We’ll have to raze the village New Crown to get there in time.’ He pursed his lips, eyes narrowed, ‘A reprovisioning, then.’
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Midday rapidly approached. It was the worst time of day, as far as Liana was concerned. She paused in her work, and looked about the lazy field of grain. She was the first to notice the odd shadow on the horizon; a shadow drawing nearer with each breath.
“Crelad,” she called, a hand over her eyes. “Do you see that?”
Crelad, a man of some two and half pairs of hands stood and moved to Liana’s side. He too drew a hand over his eyes, and studies the horizon a moment. He frowned, “I don’t know. Let’s go to the watch tower.”
A nod, and Liana set down her hoe to follow him to the village’s only means of defense: the watch tower.
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“Can you tell what it is,” Liana asked, worriedly peering over the Militia Captain’s shoulder.
“It looks like a... like a... mod,” the captain replied, trying to bring the shadow into focus. “There’s quite a large number of them. Wait, some are holding banners.” Stunned, the captain stops, bringing the spyglass from his eyes. Liana opened her mouth to ask, but the captain breathed, “It’s an army.”
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“Mama! Mama, I’m scared,” Tulle’s cries broke into Liana fear-numbed heart as she pushed her child toward the village’s matron.
“Don’t be. Everything will be alright, Tulle,” Liana lied, trying on a brave face and finding it an ill-fit. Lacking gazes with the matron, Liana said not a word; the matron knew. She nodded and replied, “Of course, Liana. God keep you safe until next we met.”
Liana turned her face as her daughter was led away. One look, she knew, and her resolve would crumble to the fear she felt choking her. She turned and strode to the locked chest; the chest that once belonged to her husband.
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“How should we attack, General,” asked a young corporal, sitting fancy in his saddle. Dark hair swept back over his broad shoulders, Treven could only eye the lad with disgust.
He snorted a response, an irritated sneer breaking his stormy expression, “It’s a village, Corporal. A farming village. March in and seize the church. If they fight, burn everything.”
Memories drift past my eyes
Of light and dark
Of joy and sorrow
And I can’t, but close my eyes
To the tears
Of joy and sorrow...
