Chapter 6
1215 Words
6
Hugh found himself in a courtyard.
A white castle loomed before him, standing on an island amid the convergence of three rivers. Large wooden ships traversed the waters, their colorful sails at full mast. Upon them were symbols he didn’t recognize.
Across the river, on the far shores, lay stone buildings with thatched roofs as far as the eye could see.
“This way.” Dale led him down a stone path toward the gleaming fortress, passing people clad in gowns and tunics with the same bright colors and symbols as the ships.
“Have we traveled back in time?” Hugh asked in astonishment. “Or to a Renaissance fair?”
His brother shook his head. “There’s very little technology here. Our people don’t really need it.”
Well, he couldn’t argue with that. Most Supers abhorred it.
Dale stopped in his tracks and frowned at Hugh’s clothing. “That’ll never do.”
He snapped his fingers, changing Hugh’s apparel to match his own. “Ah, much better.”
He pulled him toward the entryway, flanked by two guards clad in black leather armor with silver markings.
The reddish brows of the larger guard rose as he looked at Dale. “Mòrda Delwyn—”
Dale winced and held up his hand. “Please, Henrik. I prefer to be called Dale.”
Henrik made a sour face. “It is not fitting, Urramach.”
Hugh glanced between them, confused. Though they spoke the same language as the safe houses, the accent and dialect here sounded strange to him. So did some of the terminology, which he did not recognize. What did he just call you?
Dale’s lips curved upward. Nothing compared to what they’re going to call you.
Hugh’s eyes widened. Was he in trouble already?
Don’t worry, I’ll give you a primer later, his brother reassured him.
The smaller, dark-haired guard cleared his throat. “Your father has been eager for your return…Dale.”
Hugh placed a hand on his brother’s shoulder. Our father is alive?
Dale’s smile widened. Very much so.
Hugh felt his heart catch in his chest at the thought of having living relatives besides his brother. They’d been alone for so long.
Henrik’s gaze shifted to Hugh. A gleam of recognition flickered there. “Is this the long-lost Ree Damna Hubert?”
Dale nodded. “The one and only.”
Hugh glanced at him askance. “The long lost who?”
Your name is Hubert here, Dale explained.
Hugh shuddered. That is positively horrendous.
Would you prefer Delwyn? His brother laughed and slapped him on the back. “Come, Hubert, our father awaits.”
The guards opened the mammoth doors and led them inside, their footsteps echoing down a massive stone hallway.
They passed several rooms before the passageway opened up to a large, open chamber at the end.
Silken banners of black and silver billowed from the high ceilings, emblazoned with a funnel-like symbol.
Tables lined the perimeter of the room, filled with people, all bedecked in the same colors and motifs Hugh had seen outside.
He hesitated at the doorway, his nerves on edge.
Dale placed a hand on his arm. “Come.”
Hugh crossed the threshold into a great hall. With each step, he felt like it would swallow him whole.
The people at the tables looked up as he passed by. Some gasped, others whispered.
“Ree Damna,” they murmured. “Ardan Hubert.”
Hugh stared at them, confused, as Dale tugged him toward the center of the room.
Two people stood arguing there, a tall, pale-haired one and a shorter, dark-haired one. Both wore their long hair with plaits in it.
Perhaps some representation of rank, he mused.
More silver and black banners hung behind them, framing an enormous throne on a raised stone platform.
Hugh eyed the banners, and then Dale’s clothing, as well as his own. They matched.
The man standing in front of them with his back towards him also wore them.
Butterflies stirred in Hugh’s stomach. What was his relationship with these people?
We are of Clann Gael, Dale said privately, and pointed to the funnel-like symbol on the banners. The House of Wind, who is currently in power.
The voices of the two people in front of them became heated.
“…Forgive them? What you’re proposing is preposterous.” The darker man glowered. “The law must be upheld. They have crossed the line and gotten away with it far too many times to count!”
He jabbed an accusing finger at a table of people with curly, reddish-blond hair.
They glanced back, a sea of green and blue eyes filled with apprehension.
“Angus, try to be reasonable,” the silvery man placated him in a rich, honeyed voice.
There was an air of authority in it and something more.
Hugh could feel the man’s power rolling over him in waves.
He has the Voice, just as I do.
But it had no effect on Angus, who reached for his sword. “This is not reason, this is madness!”
More black-leathered guards appeared out of nowhere and flanked him on both sides, staying him.
“Stop your war-mongering,” the silvery man boomed. “You may be Kyennard of Clann Làrr, but I am Ard Ree.”
He pointed to the ornate crown that sat on his pale head. “And my word shall be the final one on this matter, not yours!”
Dale reached out and tapped his shoulder. “Pardon me, Father, but—”
“What?” The tall man reeled around, then froze. The look of exasperation on his refined features melted into amazement. “Hubert?”
Hugh stared into a face that matched his own. The resemblance rocked him to his core. “Father?”
The regal man stared back, then took a tentative step forward.
“I am Memnes of Clann Gael, and Ard Ree of Ellandria.” Tears welled in the man’s gray eyes, and emotions flickered across his features. “We…we thought we had lost you forever, my son.”
He pulled him into an embrace and lost his composure.
Hugh slid his brother a sideways glance. An Ard Ree is a….
High King, Dale replied.
And that makes us…
His heirs.
A wave of utter and absolute astonishment rolled over Hugh.
All he could do was stand there, dumbfounded, as the stranger who was his father clung to him and cried, drenching his shoulder.
Hugh looked up at the black and silver banners overhead, as if in a trance. His brain felt broken.
“Forgive him, Father,” Dale said. “We have only just arrived. He has not regained his memories yet.”
Hugh blinked at his brother, unsure of what to do.
Dale motioned towards the weeping king. I know you’re in shock, but at least pretend you care.
Hugh put his arms around the man in an awkward hug. “Thank you…Father.”
He became aware of the others at the tables again as they stood and clapped.
“Welcome back, Ardan Hubert!” they rejoiced.
Hugh plastered a smile on his face, feeling hollow and wooden. None of it seemed real.
His gaze fell to a table of people clad in green and brown, sporting the symbol of a tree on their clothing. Their hair was blacker than midnight with the same blue tint that Kat’s had.
His heart leapt at the sight.
ClannLàrr, Dale told him. The House of Earth. Selena’s tribe.
His father released him, then wiped his eyes and smiled. “Your mother will be eager to see you when she returns. She is visiting the Ellandri at the moment.”
Hugh turned and looked at Dale, incredulous. “Our mother is alive?
Dale beamed at him. “And so is our sister.”
Hugh gasped. How long had they waited? How long had they wondered? How long had they pretended to have a family and a home, not knowing they had one here?
The flood gates of his emotions flew open and Hugh wept from some place deep inside, his knees buckling beneath him.
Dale caught him and held him fast.
“Welcome home, brother.”
- Writer
