Chapter V - Discovering Destiny
The Legend of Leanna Page: Vol. I
You’re reading The Legend of Leanna Page, the page-turning mythopoetic queer literary fantasy. *Click here for the Table of Contents and start of Volume I*
Previously: Esta and Byrdon found each other through the mysterious magic of a cave deep beneath their kingdoms. Will their treasonous tryst be discovered? Read on!
Byrdon hurried through the royal halls of Pavoline, keeping a close watch on the prince’s morning meal so as to see it did not spill, endeavoring to have the breakfast laid out just as Guiomar preferred before he quitted his repose. With a racing heart and a steady hand, Byrdon leaned against the door to Guiomar’s chambers, opening it quietly to cause the least disturbance, and went scurrying about to put all in place for when the prince awoke. Having completed his purpose, Byrdon took a deep breath to calm his pulse. The prince then stirred, and Byrdon stood at attention.
“Good morning, my liege,” he announced. Guiomar pulled open his eyes and winced at the sun that poured through the windows, one beside the bed and one behind the desk, whose curtains Byrdon had made sure to pull open with perfect symmetry and tie back to their posts with elaborate knots.
“Byrdon,” the prince began, supporting himself on his elbows, “for the past couple of weeks, thou hast done naught but entirely amaze me with thine extensive commitment to perfection in the most menial tasks.”
“I only wish to serve you with the best of quality, your highness.”
“Right,” Guiomar squinted at the servant. “Due to the rich history of respect we share, I am sure.”
“You are the prince, my liege.”
“Yes, but, Byrdon, hear me true; I know I have threatened thy life to protect certain intelligences, and while that understanding of course remains intact, I want to assure thee that I am, on most other accounts, a relatively reasonable man. I would not have thee executed if, say, once or twice, thou wert less than punctual with breakfast.” Guiomar smirked with a slight air of apology as he noticed the uncanny cleanliness of his chamber flooring.
Byrdon swallowed a note of spite and told the prince, “I no longer rely on fear as a motivation to serve you, your highness. I recognize now that I needed to refocus my loyalties, and they rightly belong to the future of Pavoline; they rightly belong to you, Prince Guiomar.”
Guiomar smiled and let out a chortle. “Ha! Very well,” said he. “Be this true, then I am much pleased. Thou wouldst be more useful as an honest ally.”
Byrdon dreaded to think against whom Guiomar would have him allied, but he knew if he was to see Esta again, he needed the veil of Guiomar’s trust to prevent the prince from noticing his after-dark exploits to the magical cave. He stood tall, looked the prince straight in the eye and swore, “I am at your service, in all things, my liege.” Guiomar smiled and allowed the servant to retire.
Once Byrdon quitted the apartment, he stood out in the hall to collect his thoughts. A calmness washed over him. Perhaps it would not be so difficult to align politically with the prince. It had now been two and a half weeks since he met his dear Esta in the cave, and there was no doubt now within him that his personal loyalties belonged to her; still, would she not also be safer if he were to be in the prince’s good graces? Thinking of Guiomar’s crimes, part of Byrdon was disgusted and afeared with his growing willingness to selfishly abet Guiomar in any of his further doings, but as he compared the calm he felt now with the previous terror that held his heart, he bid those worrying voices to quiet, and they obeyed. An image of the forthcoming full moon flashed in his mind, and he smiled in anticipation. He went about his other duties with a new spring in his step.
At the same time, a vision of the moon – and the tryst she hoped it would portend – gave Esta a giddy air as she carried a basket of bedding from the Masor castle’s washroom up the hall to Princess Isolda’s apartment. As she turned into a hall which opened on one side, revealing the courtyard, she slowed to a stop at the sight of King Madrick leaning over the parapet. He did not look well. At a sudden, he stepped back and curled as he unleashed his breakfast upon the tile in front of his feet. Esta inhaled sharply, holding her breath, as she watched the king’s head fall to rest on his forearms which returned to the banister. He rose at the sound of Esta’s footsteps as she approached and, upon recognizing her, shame entered his visage.
“Forgive me, Esta,” he implored. “I would offer to clean it, but I know not whither we store the wash buckets.”
“Do not worry, your highness,” she spoke with care. “I shall manage it.”
The king nodded and returned his solemn gaze to the courtyard below. Esta stood still a moment then, sighing, rested her basket on the parapet.
“Difficult night?” she asked. Madrick shook his head.
“Difficult morn,” he replied, and they smiled.
“I am sorry,” she told him.
“‘Tis not thy doing.”
The king and maid stood side by side, looking out at the courtyard, in silent companionship. Suddenly, Esta’s forehead curled at the notice of nausea in her own body. At the realization that it was far too authentic, she looked round for an escape but found none in time. As a last effort, her hand flew to her mouth. She looked to Madrick with a mixture of embarrassment and terror, and she saw him return a countenance of curious concern. At last, she held onto her stomach, bent in half, and closed her eyes as her morning porridge cascaded to the floor, mingling with whatever the king had likewise failed to digest. Esta dared not rise as she stared with horror at the ground before her. Madrick laughed.
“I had not seen thee at the tavern last night. Did I simply fail to be observant?”
“No! My liege, I swear,” said Esta, swiftly rising to her defense.
“Be calm, Esta, I believe thee. Art thou ill?”
“I had felt well, and frankly I feel far less horrid now than I did just a moment before. I am not sure what came over me.”
“Then let it be forgotten. Thou shouldst get gone, I am certain Isolda would like her sheets. I shall find someone to clean, no one need know thou wert involved here.”
“Your highness, are you certain?”
“Of course! What good is a drunken king if he cannot take credit for excess upheaval on the palace floor? Go, get thee gone, I command it,” he said with a kind smile. Esta curtsied gratefully and, taking up her basket, followed his command with haste. As she crossed the hall, her polite smile fell to concern as her thoughts sifted through ideas of what the trouble inside her might be.
As the next weeks went by, and Esta’s cycle failed to mirror that of the moon, it became abundantly clear to the woman what was causing her sickness. Though the question of the issue begged no further pondering, the issue in question required much discussion and inspired grave concern within her, particularly as it related to the coming moonlit meeting with Byrdon, should she even find him there at all.
The full moon that had held the lover’s thoughts for the last few weeks, at last, rose into the starry Sky. At first sight of it, Esta and Byrdon, both, picked up their feet and made out for the caves, a swift wind propelling them along in their purpose. When they reached the inner chamber, it again was filled with the mysterious crystal blue light, and the lovers again found each other in one another’s arms, any trace of worry fading far into the background. Byrdon assured Esta that he had been a fool to suggest their separation and that he was determined to protect their bond with all his strength. At his words, Esta nearly cried in relief and gratefulness, and, with deliberate diction and steady breaths, she revealed to him the result of their previous meeting.
“A child,” Byrdon repeated, breathless.
“There are bound to be countless complications,” Esta began. “To begin with, where will it live? We cannot very well have a half-Masorian child running rampant in a castle with Prince Guiomar; and it would be fatherless in Masor, for thou cannot risk the prince thinking thou wert within our borders; and what am I to tell the princess? Surely—”
At a sudden, Byrdon pulled Esta close and kissed her softly, interrupting her racing worries.
“We shall find the right path,” he assured her. “I am not afeared as I was last moon. Thou wert right, the deepest magics of the River and Sky are drawing us together, and they will protect our love—” Byrdon placed his hand around Esta’s waist, his thumb stroking her abdomen, “—and everything that comes of it. Damn what the royals would say.”
Esta let go of her strength and fell into her lover’s arms. Stepping back, she looked into his eyes, a hand upon his cheek. “When first we parted, I knew it would be us who were charged with closing the cavern between our people. In this child, there will be no separation. The Gwahanu itself deems it so. In us, the whole of the human kingdoms are one!”
Byrdon smiled. “I only care of us,” he said, and they kissed tenderly.
They agreed, for the safety of themselves and the child, that it was best the babe would be kept hidden from all royal eyes. Each night, Esta suggested, the couple would meet in their cave, bringing one furnishing with each visit, slowly adorning the cavern with all the necessities of a comfortable abode. Esta decided she would continue her service in the castle until such time as she was wholly unable to conceal her condition when she would then complain of illness and take leave, residing in the cave until the birth. Meanwhile, Byrdon conspired to dedicate himself more completely towards becoming a trusted member of Prince Guiomar’s inner court in the hope of earning protection for his family should the prince’s baser instincts overcome the king’s goodwill; however, he told Esta nothing of his designs. Byrdon would that she at once left behind her Masorian life and turned Pavol in becoming his bride, but he only dared suggest it meekly, for he expected what was her response: “I cannot leave my home. I have duty there,” and, indeed, events passed according to Esta’s plans.
Moons passed. The cave was now decorated with a stone fire circle, two cots placed beside each other, a basket of cooking utensils, and a water bucket. The day had come when Esta would take her leave, and she sent notice to Princess Isolda with the morning messenger, begging her apologies and promising to return to service as soon as she was able, although without expecting her recovery to come about with great speed.
That afternoon, as she rummaged through her cottage packing a few final belongings for her extended stay in the cave, such as the blanket from her own infancy, comfortable sleep dresses, and some grains and fruits, she heard a rapping at the door. Esta froze, curious at who could be calling.
“Esta!” came a familiar voice. “It is I, Madrick. I asked for thee today and was informed thou hast fallen ill.”
“Indeed, my liege,” she replied through the wood. “Please accept my apology for my absence. Is there something you need from me now?”
“No,” the king said with a slight whimper. “I had only been unentertained and find I tend to enjoy thy conversation. I come not now for myself, but for thee; to see how thou dost fare.”
“That is gracious, your highness.”
“Art thou gravely ill? I was told not to expect thee for some time.”
“Indeed, it is a lengthy illness,” she said, “and quite debilitating, for I am unable to be of service, but it is not to cause grave concern, I assure you.”
“How can that be?” he remarked. “Any debilitating illness is sure to warrant concern! Shan’t thou seest our royal physician? There must be some potion Albain could provide to quicken thy recovery.”
“I am afraid not, your highness. I am familiar with the illness, and I promise it will fade in its own time. Typically, in several moons.”
“Several moons! But Esta—”
“Please, your majesty, I beg you not to press the issue further!” Esta waited after the outburst as silence permeated through her door. Fearing she had upset the king, she inquired, “My liege?”
He spoke. “A thought has occurred to me, Esta, and as I sit with it further, I think myself a fool for not having thought of it before. With the sickness, the new wardrobe, now the absence, I suppose it is not unclear. Fool as I am, though, I suppose I should not be surprised at the slow pace of my intuition.”
“Your highness—”
“Esta, thou needest not reveal to me anything that would be better kept hidden. As a king, I would not dare command it. But if thou wouldst honor me with thy friendship, I would that thou knowest, there would be no shame put upon thee for thy circumstance. If my idea of the occasion is correct, it is a happy one.” He paused a breath. “I cannot resist in asking, is it the man from Pavoline?”
Esta gasped, forgetting all she had once revealed to the drunken king. He heard her through the door and endeavored to calm her concern.
“Worry not! If secret it be, secret it shall remain. I wish thee well, Esta.”
Sighing, she replied, “Thank you, your highness.”
“Might I bring thee things from the castle? Help, in some way?”
“I will not be in my cottage for some time.”
“Then I will turn others away from seeking thee here, assure them thou art likely asleep,” he suggested, excited to be of any service.
“I would be grateful for that, your highness.”
“And thou wilt send me correspondence if there is more I can provide?”
“If you wish.”
“I do. Take care, Esta,” and Madrick went off, back to the castle.
“Thank you, my king,” she whispered, releasing her tension into the chair at her table and resting her head in her hands. She smiled.
After a breath, the young Esta bounded out of her chair, took up her belongings, and, draping her cloak around her shoulders, took a last look at her little home, saying a silent farewell. Then, she unclosed her door and stepped out, making her way to the cave.
The first week of Esta’s stay in the cave was filled with much happiness. She spent her days etching old tales and illustrations into the cavern walls and further furnishing the place as she was able. In the evenings, Byrdon, being released at the end of his duties, would join her in their underground abode, which daily resembled more and more a home inspired of love. Indeed, the mystical light, and the inescapable sense of magical awe, only grew stronger with each passing day, and the couple doubted not that their love made it so.
One midweek eve, passing much like the others, Esta rested on her cot while Byrdon prepared a supper over the fire. Byrdon hummed an old Pavol song to the rhythm of his work and Esta, watching him with such care, sang the words he had taught to her.
LADY SUNDAR-KHAR
Once lived a lad, a man of great esteem, Who suffered dear at th’hand of Lord Bascal. His heart so wide, he dared as yet to dream One day he’d love the fairest of them all: The brave, the kind, the Lady Sundar-Khar He’d watcheth as she pranced through meadow yon, And thinketh how one face could be so grand. He swore himself would marry her anon, And sought the perfect way to ask her hand; The fair, the sweet, the Lady Sundar-Khar In yonder meadow he bid her to meet, And led her to its highest peak whereat He knelt down at her lady’s timid feet, And asked if one day he may well have sat Beside “his wife”, the Lady Sundar-Khar? Her visage made no answer need be said, For next, the two were happily embraced. Two months from hence the lad and lady’d wed; If only Lord Bascal had not encased The lad so far from Lady Sundar-Khar Indeed, the Lord was jealous of the lad, Despising all the traits the lady loved. The boy was hid away with iron-clad With only mem’ries of his dear belov’d: The far, the sad, the Lady Sundar-Khar The lad who liveth there in tower tall, So guarded by a beast of horrid strength, Would beat against his hard and captive walls With grief in thinking of the distant length From which he was his love, his Sundar-Khar. The lady spoke to Lord Bascal in plea, But he would not release the lad her for. No, not until she swore to always be The wife of Lord Bascal forever more: The hushed, the rich, the Lady Sundar-Khar. Disgusted by the lord’s proposal such, The lady ran afar from Lord Bascal’s. She leapt upon her steed with mighty touch, And rode to find her love behind his walls. The fearless hero: Lady Sundar-Khar She found the tower deep in forests dark, And called to he whom she’d bequeathed her heart. But fell she sudden from her steed, and hark! The beast was reared to tear her thus apart. Afeared, alone, was Lady Sundar-Khar The beast confined her there beneath its claws, And snarled at her heart which pounded so. But at the lady’s smirk the beast did pause, And wondered at her strange triumphant glow, The trapped, the captive, Lady Sundar-Khar. She smiled for the beast had launched her trap By pinning her so near his fragile breast, And sneaking out her poignard from its strap, She plunged it deep into the monster’s chest. The strong, the great, the Lady Sundar-Khar. The lad was freed from walls that kept him feared, And reunited with his hero-love. At last, the two were wed, and townsmen cheered: “Hooray! The happy Lady Sundar-Khar!” “Hooray! The happy Lady Sunda—
Esta stopped her singing at once as her jaw hung in surprise and her hands flew to the babe inside her. Byrdon dropped his spoon and ran to her side, terribly worried as to the cause of her alarm. His fear abated when she looked to him with a countenance of glee.
“It moved, my love. I could feel it,” she said. Byrdon released the extent of his anxiety and put his arms around the mother of his child, laying a gentle kiss above her womb.
The following morn, after she again bid Byrdon adieu to tend to his prince, Esta sat up in her bed and gazed around, examining each crevice of the cavern walls. Having now endless bounds of time to give over to contemplation, she began to be nagged by the questions they had left unanswered about the cave. As she sat now, her back was rested against the straight wall which conjoined the two passageways leading to the kingdoms, Pavoline to her left and Masor to her right. Before her was the wide indentation that turned these simple tunnels into a grand cavern. Thither, the light shone brighter, slight, bringing Esta to wonder if the shine indeed had some source; and to think, if it were so, the source must lay deeper within the hollow. She rose from the left side of her cot and continued across the way to where the tunneled passage from Pavoline opened into the bright expanse. She placed her palm against the dark, rough texture of the initial passage and glid her fingertips round the corner, finding the brighter adjacent face of the hollow to be smooth to the touch. The baby kicked as her hand moved from one wall face to the next and she placed her right hand upon her abdomen to steady it, her left continuing its exploration of the curious stone. She followed its natural crevices, walking the semicircle of the hollow, furrowing her brow as she felt some inexplicable energy seeming to transfer from the wall, through her fingertips, up her arm, and into her very soul. Entranced, she followed it such to the near three-quarter point of the arc. Here, she ceased her exploration a moment, though without withdrawing her hand from the stone, in order to attend to her babe who was shifting about now like never before. With eyes now toward her babe, and now straight before her, she felt as though the small heart in her belly endeavored to go further. She let loose a small laugh, assuming the sense was only a projection of her own curiosity, but her countenance darkened as she took new notice of a break in the cavern wall.
Thither, indeed, was a sliver of space where the light shone brighter still, and, creeping herself towards it, she found a small tunnel. Lowering slightly to fit through the opening, she ventured forward with a cautious step. The passage, she now saw, would be layered with many sharp turns, and she was entirely incapable of guessing whither it would lead. She turned to exit the tunnel, but upon doing so her babe kicked so suddenly that she retreated further into the tight passage in shock. Trying once more to return to the main chamber, she felt the babe kick so violently and continuously, ceasing only when she again spun towards the mysterious path, that she could scarcely doubt the babe had its own intention in the matter. At once, she felt so strongly that whatever the source of this strange illumination, it was somehow deeply entwined in the web of her child’s destiny.
With this understanding, no fear could stay her stride, and the young mother strode defiantly on. Each turn in the small tunnel brought a new strength to the mystic blue hue of the light until, in the final stretch, it gave more the impression of existing deep under the currents of the great River. As Esta made a final turn and emerged beyond the passage, she looked up to discover herself in the most terrific chamber upon whose domed walls one could detect reflections of a watery current, and, leaning against them in awe, Esta could feel the pulsing of the current’s heart, for indeed it was deep under the center of the great Gwahanu River that this hidden chamber directly resided. At the midpoint of the circular room stood an ominous growth of black basalt, and surrounding it, decorating the walls, were drawn grand, vibrant murals. Strangely, they appeared not drawn by any hand, but rather as though they were designed into the creation of the rock itself. Noticing a narrative thread between the pictures, Esta spun towards the chamber entrance to read them from their start.
The first panel, adjoining the rocky archway through which she’d come, displayed a tall pillar of the same hue as the cavern’s light, and just above the pillar hovered a lavish oval Jewel. The gem and pillar stood on their own, and Esta walked on, seeing the mural expand to illustrate a lush river, current strong, with primrose, lily, and other greenery flowing from its beds. The river ran down and out of sight, giving way to the trunk of a sturdy tree with four large outgrowths of branches. The nearest growth had, as in Winter, only bare branches, gently blanketed with a covering of snow, and above them was shown the cloud from which the flakes were falling. The next was an illustration of the tree in Spring and boasted lovely blossoms of a rosy pink, a few petals of which had fallen upon the noses of squirrels and fawns who scurried about the springward side of the tree trunk. The third growth of branches showed Summer, with verdant leaves shining beneath a nutritious sun; and the fourth was Fall, with crimson and amber leaves adorning more the ground beneath the branches than the branches themselves. Esta thought it all quite a delightful approximation of the year.
An image of lightning harshly ended the panel, directing Esta to the next. At the foot of the bolt stood a person’s silhouette whose features were all obscured save for their piercing, maddened eyes that seemed to glow with greed and rage. Their right hand, palm outstretched, held the floating Jewel from the initial panel, and their left pointed direct to the scene that followed. A red sun burned above the pointed hand, its rays unusually directed to the ground below, and there the river returned but it had dried entirely, all signs of life beside it being shown withered. A barren forest followed the river, and, in the distance, a fire could be seen blazing toward the foreground, but the viewer was not permitted to see the fire reach them, for an enormous wave came, erupting from the air, and blocked all sight of the forest. Walking on, Esta traced the wave as it was shown to dissipate and stopped suddenly at the sight of what was left in its wake. Townhomes were shown decimated, crops destroyed, and the ensanguine color of the earth was explained well by the countless villagers who lay dead atop it. Knights and laymen were defeated the same, and any left alive were left weeping. Above the sight there floated the moon, whose thin crescent was warped and withered. The moon’s strength could be traced through the sky as a shimmer that trailed off, sucked away towards... that Jewel. The Jewel rested in the sky across from the moon, above the scene, itself a formidable force of nature. All the destruction, the death, Esta realized; the Jewel was its cause. Could such a power be part of this world? Her soul ached at the question.
There was space for one final panel before the circle was complete, but this portion of the wall was covered by a thick layer of basalt that had grown across it. Esta took hold of its edge and pulled, hoping, with morbid wonder, to see what lay underneath. She sighed at her unsuccessful excavation and tried no further, assuming it may be better left unseen. She dreaded to think what terror was hid there.
Esta turned now to the fearful tower of basalt that commanded the center of the chamber. She looked to it curiously, thinking she had heard a crack, and her eyes then widened as she was sure she heard another, then another, then another! until now for certain the tower began to quake, its force knocking Esta to the ground. She managed to pull herself half up as the ground shook beneath her, and she sat, pushed against the wall, watching the rock crumble around itself as its black dust filled the chamber. Esta clamped her eyes shut, bringing her forearm across her face to shield herself from the horror.
At long last, the quaking ceased, and the dust began to settle. When, at length, Esta unclosed her eyes, she remained frozen in terrific awe of the sight before her. For, revealed from underneath the dark stone, stood tall the bright pillar of sky blue from the murals, adorned at its crown with the terrible Jewel. Esta rose, with all her strength, and advanced toward the mythic gem. As in the paintings, an inexplicable force kept it airborne, resting inches above the stone pillar below. The Jewel was unlike any Esta had seen, in life or in dreams. It was flooded with deep yellow and red, and across it were pink and purple streaks, making it appear as though the sunset itself resided in the gem. Were it not for the frightful knowledge of the Jewel’s power, Esta would have thought it the most beautiful artifact to have ever graced her vision. She circled it to examine closer and, on the pedestal, she saw was engraved the name
THE JEWEL OF NEBULOUS.
Esta’s focus turned to her babe who was shifting again within her. Strange, however, it seemed, for the movement did not feel as before. It felt now as though the babe was reaching; reaching for the Jewel! Esta’s eyes darted at once to the foreboding silhouette on the wall as she was flooded with the horrible presentiment that, one day, her child would grow to wield the wicked stone. Excited suddenly by infinite inquiries, Esta studied again the wall’s images and noticed anew that, scattered about them all, were small pictures of fairies, and, with suspicions confirmed that they were involved in the magic of the caves, she knew in them alone might she find some answers.
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Such excellent writing. Makes me wish I had not decided against any magical objects in Tranith Argan. You are having fun with the concept of the Jewel.