Lee (dreaminglee) wrote in wi_haven, @ 2008-08-02 20:37:00 |
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Entry tags: | em, heirs of firelight, lee |
Heirs of Firelight [Neilen/Chapter One]
1194 words
Neilen Gladen is one of the two hidden heirs to the Kingdom of Firelight. Now, a boy of fourteen, he has known only good times and happiness as the son of Joseph Gladen, one of the merchant house of Enid. Then his life is turned upside down the night that he finds his Father dead.
Neilen would never forget the eyes that he saw, those deep green eyes like spring leaves that had looked at him from above that scarf. She, he was certain that it had been a she from the length of her unbound hair cascading down her back. She was sitting on the window sill when he entered, looking at him boldly. His father was slumped over the table, a blade protruding from his back. He remembered clenching his hands until his short nails made his palms bleed before lunging across the space at her. She slipped out the window then, seemingly taunting him. He reached the ledge just in time to see her disappear through the first tears in his eyes. Unable to follow the one who had destroyed his life, he went back to the table.
The blood was still dripping from the table into the puddle between his Father's feet. The man who had loved him all his life, managing even after the death of his mother, was now dead and going cold. The tears that had been building in his eyes dropped, creating a little puddle of their own on top of the growing pool of blood. How could anyone do this? His Father had been a law abiding citizen, he had no enemies. Why? The question plagued him as his hands moved to the hilt of the blade. There was no reason for this. None. His tears of pain were rapidly becoming tears of anger, the expression on his face turning into a grimace as the blade didn't come free at his first pull.
It came free just as the watch made it to the door.
"Stop," they cried, hands going to their own blades in case they should have to defend themselves against the intruder. Neilen could only look at them with defenseless eyes. Pained eyes that they misinterpreted for remorse. "Come along," the pair commanded in tones that spoke of cajoling, but were obviously actually just sugar coated commands. Neilen had never disobeyed the guard in his life. His Father had always taught him that the guard was the arm of the King and the king had God's right to command. So he stood there, staring, the blade coated in his father's blood limply held in his hand, forgotten by his stunned mind. "COME ALONG," this time the man sounded like thunder falling on a tree, the crack so loud it filled the head. He could only numbly move into their custody.
They looped ropes around his wrists and helped him onto a horse to be led back to the jail. All he could think about was the last time he had gone riding with his Father, riding off to see a merchant friend of his who lived outside the city walls a ways. The leather goods business had been good to them, allowing them to keep their own horses in the public stables. So they had ridden through the day and made his Father's friend's at nightfall. Such a beautiful house the man had possessed. The smell of the flowers and the sight of the house with the backdrop of the mountains so far away sustained him until the gate of the jail slammed shut behind him.
That shook him back into reality, bringing to his eyes not the field of flowers that seemed to be bordered by the walkway leading to the man's house, but rather the deep, depressingly gray walls of the jail with its solid iron bars. How had this happened? The blood was dry on his hands now, yet when he looked down it still seemed too red, too real. Sitting on the cot that had been set in the cell for that purpose, he wiped his face with his clean hand, trying to keep from sobbing like a baby where the drunk in the next cell could hear him.
Sunlight streaming in the small window the next morning awoke him to his circumstances. Sitting up, he ran his fingers through his hair, trying to calm the black length into something that resembled order. A few things fell out as he did that, but he didn't turn to look at what they were. He'd never been in a bed where there were things like rats, fleas, roaches; yet, this bed had all three. The only reason he had even managed to sleep was probably because he had been shocked and exhausted. Now he was less exhausted, but still shocked as he looked around and reminded himself of exactly what had happened to land him in jail.
That day, Neilen sat alone in that cell. A guard passed him, but only to give him some food. Something that resembled food anyway, in a chipped bowl that he would never have used to feed even his Father's dog. Still, his stomach grumbled, so he ate what he could. Closing his eyes to keep from having to see it. There was meat and potatoes in the inky broth, but those were the only things that he recognized by taste. There were other objects in the soup, but he simply swallowed them nearly without tasting them at all. No one answered his questions, only grunting at him without even looking in his direction. No matter how he screamed and carried on, they just grunted in his direction. No one even bothered to try and quiet him. Odd behavior in a prison where order was considered paramount.
That went on for a week. Then he woke up to find a person sitting in his cell with him. Richly dressed, his hair black but thinning in places and gray in many others. This old man just studied him as though he were a gem he meant to buy. Neilen looked back at him for a long moment also before remembering to make his manners.
"I'm sorry, I'm Neilen Gladen." He stood and bowed deeply. "Of House..."
"Formerly of House Enid, I know," the old man corrected him before he could even finish. "I've come for you because of the regrettable death of your caretaker."
"My Father was killed, yes," how he could say those words without choking on them was the work of a week repeating them until those words were very real. Until he stopped wishing for them to not be true. "Who are you?"
"Your uncle, my boy, the Regent of Firelight." With that he smiled and Neilen could only think that such a smile was the same one painted on so many depictions of the dealing demon, a creature often painted on the gambling houses of the city. It was a creature you could never trust.
"My uncle?"
"Yes, your uncle, and I have so much to tell you."
Prologue | Chapter One