Tales of Caelavin: One's Destiny

    It was early in the morning, the sun a mere whisper above the horizon, when the great horn sounded. A noise Caelavin came to dread above any other although it wasn’t particularly because of the sound itself. The sound was only a foreshadow of the fear to come. Caelavin, as well as the rest of the village of Surthow, came shuffling out of their homes already mourning and anxious to hear the names of their fallen brothers. Caelavin’s father, Connor, had been away at war with the King’s army. She had only just turned eighteen when he left; he was the only family she had now since her mother died in childbirth. She begrudgingly made her way out of her little cabin, as the royal crier arrived atop his chestnut horse.     “Citizen’s of Lotharia, I have come to bring you the names of the fallen.” Caelavin’s heart suddenly began to race. She hated every time the crier came down. The thought of her father going down in battle always brought tears to her eyes. Lost in thoughts of her own nightmares, she hadn’t even realized how long she’d zoned out for until she heard the unthinkable, her father’s name. “Connor Cordova, has fallen to protect this kingdom and its people.” His voice echoed in the air, as well as in Caelavin’s head.     He’s gone, he is really gone. Caelavin had to repeat it over and over in her head because it just didn’t seem real. In a daze-like state, her feet stumbled towards the crier to get the letter that would contain her father’s last words. She quietly slipped the letter into the pocket of her dress. She didn’t really know what else to do. How could it be real that she had just lost the only family she ever knew. She barely felt anything as an arm wrap around her shoulders, leading her away from the crowd. She looked up through her tears to see the kind old eyes of Retha, the village matron. She always made sure everyone had everything they needed before looking after herself. Since Caelavin no longer had a mother figure, Retha always made sure Caelavin and her father were well taken care of. “Come Dear. Let us get you home.” The two women walked back to the Cordova cabin which suddenly felt excessively large even though Caelavin had been living alone there for months now. Tears continued to fall down the young girl’s face, and she couldn’t seem to stop them. She never liked crying in front of others. Whenever she cried as a child she was always tormented by others, so she always tried to keep it inside. When they reached their destination, Retha took pity on the young girl. The reality that her father was never going to return to her began to sink in. All she had left of him, were his last words in the envelope in her pocket. Somehow it just didn’t seem like enough. The older woman walked Caelavin inside and got her settled, but then left her to her devices so she could properly mourn in solitude.     Caelavin walked through the dark wooden doors of her childhood home, wishing more than anything that she could return to being that innocent child she was just yesterday. She mindlessly made her way to her father’s bedroom. His room was kept the same way it had always been. He had a small desk in the corner containing parchment, ink, and his eagle feather quills. He had a bookshelf on the wall adjacent to the desk full of old tattered books and rolled up maps. His many pairs of boots were neatly tucked in-between the door and the bed. She had always made sure fresh flowers were put in the vase sitting in front of the windows even after he left for war. She quietly stepped inside, overwhelmed as the scent of him still lived on in his bedroom.     “Oh father, what am I going to do?” She cautiously moved around the room, hoping that it was all a dream, and that her father would jump out of the closet to scare her like he loved to do. When she resigned to the knowledge that the closet would remain closed, she sat on the bed and took the letter out of her dress pocket. She wanted to open it, but something caused her to hesitate. What if it wasn’t what she hoped it would be? What if he didn’t tell her how much he loved her? She desperately wanted to hear his voice. This letter was the closest thing she would ever have of that now.     An hour passed and she still remained in the same spot, the letter unopened in her hands. Caelavin mustered up all the courage she had, and quietly opened the letter.     My Dear Caelavin, If you are reading this, it means I have passed on. I want you to know that I am sorry. My darling baby girl, I am so sorry to leave you like this. I held you in my heart every time I left, and now I hope you will do the same. Caelavin, there is something I must tell you, a secret I have kept for a very long time. You are special. You are a Cordova. Your destiny is bigger than mine or that of any of our ancestors. We come from a long line of elite warriors. Every Cordova has served alongside the King of Lotharia. You must do so now, but I warn you, it will not be easy. No woman has ever served as a guard, much less the King’s Guard, but as you are my only descendant, you must take responsibility and rise to your potential. King Maurice is not going to take this lightly. You must travel to the Forest of Tyrellia, and find the man that is called Gildebrandt. He will further your training. I wish I could hug you my darling, but I know you will do incredible things. I love you Caelavin. I must go now. Be brave my love, and be kind. With All My Love, Father     Astonished by her father’s words, Caelavin could no longer hold back the hoard of emotions that had been threatening to spill out of her since she heard the crier say her father’s name. It was as if she kept her emotions enclosed in a dam, and it had at last broken. Waves of sadness overcame her, wracking her body with tears and emptiness. This was the first time she felt truly alone. Several hours later, once her tears had dried and she no longer could shed anymore, she rose from the floor. Resigned to the truth, She went to her bedroom and packed up her belongings as the day turned to night. The grief she felt made eating seem too monumental a task, so instead she snacked on a slice of bread and apple butter. After she had finished, she laid on her little cot, and tried to sleep. It took much longer than she hoped to finally drift into a restless sleep.     Caelavin awoke before the sun rose over the Heramyn Mountains to the east of Surthow. She grabbed her belongings and saddled Connor’s horse Baelvain. Baelvain nickered a greeting to her.     “Hello my friend” She greeted the horse who was now her only companion. She fastened the girths on his saddle and placed the rest of her belongings in Baelvain’s saddlebag. She wore her brown breeches and matching knee-high boots, a white shirt and a brown leather jerkin. She strapped her sword to her right hip, and slung her bow and quiver over her back. It was no secret that Conner had taught his daughter the basics of fighting with a sword and a bow. She had studied her father’s movements and his teachings exceptionally well over the years. He would routinely teach her when he came home from his time away at the Castle of Solydian. Snapping out of her reminiscence of the past, she put her left foot into the stirrups and mounted the black stallion. She pulled the hood of her father’s cloak over her head, hiding her mass of dark brown hair.     Unsure of which way to head, she turned to her companion horse. “Baelvain, do you know the way to the Forest of Tyrellia?” She figured he wouldn’t answer, but suddenly Baelvain whinnied and nodded his head. Surprised, she took hold of the reins as Baelvain took off. She was lucky she grabbed on or she would have surely lost her balance and fallen off before she even left her village. The stallion was one of the fastest horses in the kingdom. As she held on, Caelavin remembered what her father has told her long ago about his beloved stallion: “Do not think of him as just a horse. Look into his eyes and you will see you are more alike than you are different.”     She had remembered what she felt when she looked into the golden eyes of Balevain. She saw what her father spoke of. Their bond had formed that day, she trusted him and he also returned that trust.     Caelavin was brought back to reality when Baelvain stopped on a nearby hill looking over the forest. “Well, he has to be in there somewhere.” She clicked her tongue at Baelvain and he continued on their journey through the forest. Baelvain kept up a decent pace, slow enough that Caelavin could pull one of her father’s maps out of the saddle bags. She unrolled the map of the forest to see a blue circle deep into the forest just past another circle in red. Next to the circle were the words: “Camp of the Snake Bandits.”     “Well, we have to pass that camp. Let’s hope they don’t spot us eh Bael?” Baelvain snorted and Caelavin just laughed. “Come on buddy. We’ll be lucky just to make it before sundown.” She rolled up the map and put it back into the saddlebag a little apprehensive about the journey ahead. She clicked her heels and like an arrow, Baelvain shot forward into a gallop, making longer strides and jumping over fallen trees. She had never experienced this side of Baelvain. She was not even sure if it was her telling him where to go or if he already knew the way to their destination. She felt as if she was riding like a leaf on the wind as Baelvain twisted through the forest as if by memory. Caelavin looked behind her watching as the forest’s edge and her old life diminished from view.      By the time the sun went down, Caelavin and Baelvain made it to a clearing where they found a cabin with smoke coming from the chimney, indicating that someone was home. Caelavin dismounted and cautiously walked up to the wooden door. Unsure, Caelavin looked back at Baelvain; the stallion nodded his head as if to say ‘go ahead.’ Caelavin took a deep breath, mustered up all the courage she had, and knocked on the door softly. There was a moment of awkward silence when she thought no one would answer. She raised her fist to knock on the door again when a man opened the door. He looked to be in his late fifties or maybe even his early sixties.     “Can I help you?” The man looked at her in a way that made Caelavin feel uneasy and her throat dry. “Well?..... I am waiting.”     Caelavin regained her senses. “I was told to find a man named Gildebrandt. Is that you?” The older man stepped out of his home with his arms crossed and a scowl on his face. “Who told you about me? Few people know of my whereabouts and I don’t recall you being one of them.” The old man seemed quite aggressive, but Caelavin stood her ground.     “It was my father, Connor Cordova who told me about you.” She matched his stance, her arms crossed over her chest and an expression that would make anyone think she was fearless.The man scoffed at her.      “The Cordova lineage has always been men. You are no Cordova.” Irritation found its way to Caelavin. Who was he to tell her who she was or wasn’t?     “So you are telling me that this is not my father’s horse, and I am not Conner’s Daughter?”     “Oh I know that’s his horse, Baelvain. He is the only horse I have ever seen with golden eyes. However, you have yet to show me proof that you are of the Cordova lineage.” Irritated, Caelavin rolled up her left sleeve.      “Is this enough proof for you?” On her left wrist was a mark that looked as if it had been burned into her skin. Every Cordova since her ancestor Morthorin Cordova, who was cursed while being branded after his capture in the Kingdom of Derulon, had been born with the same mark on their left wrist. Gildebrandt knew this. He looked up at Caelavin and opened the door to his home for her. “Very well, it seems we need to talk, but first tend to Baelvain. There is a stable round the back of the house.” Caelavin nodded and whistled for Baelvain to follow. After she unsaddled him and rubbed him down, she noticed a bin of apples in the corner.  “Bet you would like an apple after our journey huh my friend?” Baelvain whinnied in response and gently nudged her with his muzzle. Caelavin chuckled and gave the stallion an apple. After she knew the horse was content for the evening, she made her way back to Gildebrandt’s cottage. Gildebrandt was waiting for her as he sat on an armchair by the fire. She took in her surroundings as she approached him. To her left was a simple kitchen with an icebox against the wall, wooden counters, and some pots and pans hanging from the ceiling. The sitting room where Gildebrandt sat was directly in front of her, and to her right was a hallway where she assumed the bedrooms were.     “Are you going to sit or just keep staring into space?” Caelavin resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She made her way toward him and sat in the chair opposite of him. “Now, what exactly did your father say?” Caelavin reached in her pocket and pulled out her father’s letter.     “These are his final words to me. He said to seek you out so I could continue my training. The problem is, I have no idea what that means. What training?”     “Considering your father was very skilled with the sword and bow, I can only assume that he trained you in the arts as well?” Calvin nodded. Slightly smug, Gildebrandt continued, “Well, every Cordova is an arsenal trained in theart of every weapon known to the world. It is my duty to further your training. However, until youmaster the art of the sword and bow, I will not introduce you to anything new.”     “What is it I am meant to do? What is my purpose?” Caelavin was burning with Questions.     “Connor never told you?” Gildebrandt seemed bewildered which only irritated Caelavin further. She was already confused about everything she thought she knew and now this old man pestered her with questions she had no answers for. However, Caelavin’s curiosity reached a peak. She wanted to hear more. She shook her head in response to Gildebrandt. He repositioned himself in his chair. “Ever since your ancestor Morthorin saved Prince Farrow from Derulon, when Farrow became the King, He declared that Morthorin and his descendants would be his closest advisors, and the King’s personal guards. All Cordovas are consulted with about every strategy by the King and his generals.”     “I am meant to be the King’s personal guard?” Caelavin was astonished. Gildebrandt nodded.      “Your situation will be different though.” Caelavin’s face scrunched up in confusion.     “Why is my situation different?” She asked the older man.     “You are a woman. King Maurice does not allow his knights to be women. It is more than likely he will turn you away because you are a woman.” Caelavin felt disappointed. She was unsure if Gildebrandt would even still teach her, and if he did, would the King even accept her?     “Are you still going to teach me?” She asked. Gildebrandt stroked his beard contemplating his answer, then nodded.     “It is my duty to train every Cordova, and as you are indeed a Cordova, I will teach you as I have your father and his ancestors before him. Caelavin couldn’t help the grin from making its way onto her lips. She may have lost everything, but at least now she could honor her father by rising to the potential he knew she possessed. “There is a second bedroom down the hall and to the left. Get some rest. We start your training at dawn.”     Caelavin rose from her chair suddenly exhausted from her journey, and walked down the small hallway to her new bedroom. As she was passing down the hall, she noticed portraits hanging on the wall. Tired as she was, she couldn’t help but to wonder who were the people important enough to make it on Gildebrandt’s wall. She noticed one she didn’t expect to see. At the end of the hall, the eyes of her father looked back at her. She stared at him. His dark raven hair was neat and his beard looked the same. He had on a silver breastplate with gold engravings that swirled up to the neckline. She peered into his eyes that so clearly reflected her own, but it was like looking into a stormy sea. She smiled sadly. She missed her father so much, but she knew she had to press on. She believed in her heart that she would see him again whether it was in her dreams or in death. Flustered, she wiped away the tears that escaped her eyes and walked into her room.     Her bedroom was as simple as the one she had back at her home in Surthow. There was a small bed against the wall, next to the bed was a window with fresh daisies in a small vase sitting on the sill. On the opposite wall was a desk and to the right of the desk was a small bookshelf with tattered books that Gildebrandt must’ve collected over the years. She unpacked her belongings. She had a couple night shirts, and another pair of breeches, an extra jerkin, and shirt. She gently placed her weapons on the desk. She peeled off the clothes she was wearing and placed them in a pile on the floor. She figured she could do laundry later, all she knew was she was exhausted. She got changed into her night shirt, and collapsed on the bed. It took her awhile to get comfortable, but when she did she drifted off into a dreamless sleep. While the girl was sleeping, Gildebrandt sat at his desk writing in his journal. When he finished his writing, he walked down the hall and looked at the portrait of Conner with sad eyes. Conner was a light in the dark world. He was a kind man and a fierce warrior. Memories of his time spent training Conner came flooding back. Sweat covered Connor’s forehead, he swung his sword in the sequences that were called out. ‘Overcut, sidehand, backhand.’      “You’re enthusiastic, I’ll give you that. But your footwork needs work, and the way you’re holding the sword is atrocious.” Gildebrandt circled the young man stroking his beard.     “I am trying, Gildebrandt.” Connor shouted.     “Trying is not going to save you on the battlefield. You need to improve before we further your training.” Gildebrandt walked up to him. “Try standing like this.” He took his fighting stance, and Connor mirrored. “And don’t think of your sword as a weapon. Think of it as an extension of your arm. Become one with it. Don’t swing so wildly. Now try the sequence again.” Connor performed the sequence again, ‘Overcut, sidehand, backhand.’ This time he felt the difference, he couldn’t help but grin. Gildebrandt couldn’t stop the smile that came to his face.     “Much better.” The tears that escaped his eyes brought him back to the present. He shook his head to clear his thoughts and made his way to his own bed.