The Start of a Story

This doesn’t yet have a name….or a middle…or an ending. But it does have a beginning and this is how the beginning goes…….

The Crone sat at the window as immovable as a statue, as rigid and cold as the stone walls of her room. Her back was ruler straight, both of her feet were planted squarely on the floor, and her gnarled hands lay limp on her lap. Her breaths were so shallow that her chest barely rose with each inhalation. Her cold ice blue eyes stared fixedly out the window at something so far in the distance that it was not even a pinpoint on the horizon. The only sign that the Crone was alive at all was the thin stream of tears waterfalling down the crags on her withered face.

Downstairs in the Sechun Hall there was a flurry of frenetic activity. Preparations were underway for the arrival of Joia. There would be a feast this night, the likes of which had not been seen since Joia’s birth fete nearly 150 calendar turns ago. On that night there had been three Fetemen and an entire troupe of Beguilers to entertain the nobles who had come from far and wide to be witness to the birth of their Shayene. Some of the noblefolk had traveled many leagues to be there on the precise date the Crone had foreseen as the nativity day. To ease the fatigue of the road weary travelers, a great feast had been prepared and the Fetemen and Beguilers brought in. The Beguilers especially had the added effect of keeping the various Circle leaders’ minds off their mutual hostilities. It is quite difficult, indeed impossible; to focus on your differences and anger when completely entranced by the spells woven by the Beguilers with their gossamer color shifting costumes and dances of erotic desire.

Memories of that night were playing through Kavia’s mind as she supervised the preparations for her daughter’s homecoming. She surveyed the Sechun Hall with a critical eye. All seemed to be nearly in place. Every nook and cranny had been dusted. The wood floors shone from days of being painstakingly rubbed by hand with linflax oil. Bright orange tablecloths had been brought from storage and the delicate gold thread stitching which was holding the beading and gemstones in place had been fastidiously checked and repaired. The starched and sparkling cloths now dressed all the tables in the Hall. Fresh flowers and greenery were being brought in from the Keep’s gardens to soften the room’s customary severity. Dozens of candles were on every table and three times the usual number of torches lined the walls.

There would be no dark corners tonight. Even the Radiance Guild had been persuaded to lend their special talents tonight. At least, they’d said they would be there, but Kavia hadn’t seen them yet and it was well past time for them to have begun preparations for their contribution to the evening’s festivities.

“Blast those arrogant Radiants!” Kavia muttered as she strode across the room in agitation. “If it weren’t for the fact that Joia owes her life to them…”

Kavia gave a startled yelp as she banged her shin on a bench someone had left out of place. She sat down hard on the offending bench, rubbing her injured shin.

“Ashes of roses! I guess that will remind me not to wish ill on others – for quite some time!” Kavia swore through clenched teeth.”

As the pain in her throbbing shine began to subside, Kavia caught a shadow move at the very edge of her vision.

“So, Candi. There you are. I notice you’ve been keeping well out of sight during all the preparations.”

A large silver wolf emerged from behind a far table, her unsettling violet eyes sparkling and her jaws appearing to be stretched in a wolven smile. She gracefully covered the distance to the bench where Kavia sat with just three of her long strides and laid her muzzle delicately in Kavia’s lap. Kavia affectionately laid her hand on Candi’s head.

“Just how long have you been lurking about, watching me?”

Almost before the words were out of her mouth, Kavia began to receive Candi’s answer in the form of pictures in her mind. She saw herself walk across the room, slam her shin into the bench and then collapse down onto it. She saw the purple bruise begin mottle and rise, and heard herself mutter.

“Long enough, I see, to witness my gracelessness. Nevertheless, I’m glad you’re back. What news do you bring of the arrival of my daughter?”