Light of Elliana: Book One—Of Tears & Darkness

Chapter Eight: Of Safe Returns

“Donovan, we’re so glad you’ve returned.” King Tarran smiled broadly, shook his hand, and gave Donovan a lingering hug. His father stepped back so he could greet his mother.

“Son, both of us are relieved you have returned safe and sound. We have been worried sick.” Queen Katherine held him tightly for a few moments, and Donovan felt her tremble slightly and knew she had feared for his life. “It’s good to be home.” Donovan smiled in return and stepped aside for Princess Morgan to meet his parents. Prince Donovan noted his mother had commissioned a new set of clothing for his father and garb for their servants. She had often stated both the Royal Family and the staff needed to be more presentable during matters of state and special festivities. To meet this goal, servant men and boys now wore royal blue tunics with black leggings and shoes. Women and girls wore royal blue dresses with delicate black slippers.

Queen Katherine’s efforts to clothe Donovan’s father as a proper king, were on display as well today. The King Tarran Answaar now stood before him wearing a finely sewn blue linen tunic and britches. Over his tunic, was a coat of light-blue linen. Upon its left chest was the royal coat of arms, in gold. Golden buttons completed the regal finery. Upon his feet were a polished pair of pointed black leather shoes. Donovan had to admit his father certainly looked every bit the part of Etmindor’s ruler. His father’s well-trimmed graying dark brown beard and kind smile presented a pleasant image. His brown eyes told Prince Donovan all there was to say. He was still grieving but was maintaining a kind and courteous air for Princess Morgan’s benefit.

 Queen Katherine placed a hand upon his arm and gave it a gentle squeeze. Prince Donovan noted, she too had commissioned new clothing for herself. For, she wore a light-blue velvet long gown trimmed in white lace. Around his mother’s neck, hung her cornflower-blue sapphire neck-lace. Upon a finger of her right hand was a ring that held a diamond and another cerulean stone. Her brown eyes and smile spoke of joy and relief, as sunlight shone upon her long brown and gray hair.

“Princess Morgan, we’re pleased you’ve returned with Donovan. You’re welcome here at any time.” King Tarran patted her proffered hand and gave her a gentle hug.

“It is certainly nice to have you as our guest once more, Princess Morgan. It has been far too long since you last traveled here with your father. How is King Aramus?” Queen Katherine asked while leading her away. As if Donovan or his father no longer existed, both Morgan and Donovan’s mother started walking across the grounds together. Both were talking excitedly, and they seemed to be enjoying themselves. By all appearances, they were heading towards the Royal Rose Garden.

Donovan turned to glance at his father. When their eyes met, they both laughed and walked toward the Central Hall’s oak double-doors.

“Your new clothing is most impressive. For a few moments, I didn’t know if I should call you father or your majesty,” Donovan stated while laughing lightly.

“This is your mother’s idea. She’s determined to tame me and make me presentable. I am far more comfortable in leather and chainmail armor than I am in this jake jester’s suit.” King Tarran sighed as a guard opened a door for them and closed it behind them. His father walked across the hall’s gray stone floor to the oak wine cabinet and paused.

“When your message arrived, it dealt a heavy blow to your mother and me. The kingdom is in grave peril, and we have no idea what is happening.” After deciding on a proper vintage, King Tarran returned with two filled goblets and set one before Donovan.

Prince Donovan considered his father’s comment and nodded in agreement. “What we found shows our enemy is well organized. Kang, Nyen, and Giants destroyed Drennard, and they also killed Uncle Samuel and his patrol. There is more.”

King Tarran nodded his head and seated himself on a chair across from Donovan. “I figured as much, from what you described. What else happened?”

Donovan described in detail everything which had happened in Drennard. As his story unfolded, his father looked at him incredulously. “Every- one came back to life in Drennard?” King Tarran stared at him silently, as if he didn’t believe what he had heard. “Why, I have never heard of such a thing!”

“What possesses the power to command the dead?” Donovan asked in a lowered voice. He slid his goblet aside.

“What, indeed? There are Dark Binders, but they cannot raise the dead. Whatever it is, we have never had to face; it’s like before.” King Tarran took another swallow of wine and looked at him.

“Facing a common enemy in battle is one thing. How can mere men face a powerful evil which can turn our dead against us? How can we defeat it?” Donovan found his mind drifting back to when he had faced his Uncle Samuel. Even though he hadn’t touched it, Prince Donovan had almost fallen prey to its malevolent power.

King Tarran finished his goblet of wine and sat back. “We have no choice but to prepare for war. In the days ahead, we must be mindful of our vulnerability and try to learn all we can. There are too many unanswered questions.”

“I wholeheartedly agree. If you don’t mind, I will take my leave. I stink and desperately need a bath and some clean clothes,” Donovan said to his father, who nodded while smiling and waved him away.

Over an hour later, after he had soaked and scrubbed himself thoroughly, he was finally presentable. Now he could relax and wait for his father’s public address. After an hour or so, the bells started to peal in the Watch Tower of Edenas. They were alerting all who were interested in attending King Tarran’s announcement.

His father’s declaration would occur in the Court of Kings, an expansive stone courtyard constructed with cut multicolored flagstone. For years, this had been a formal meeting place where Etmindor’s citizens were openly informed about matters of state. Men, women, and children alike were filling the grounds. Guards with polished barbute helms and plate-mail stood at attention beside an arched entrance at the courtyard’s rear. They were there to keep order, as people filed past them and sat upon marble stone benches. Here, Kandalare’s former rulers stood carved in stone at regular intervals along both sides of the square. In silent magnificence, their forms commanded an air of respect, as they stood witness to the day’s proceedings.

After some time, his father walked out upon a central white limestone balcony overlooking the courtyard. The citizen’s applause became a roar when King Tarran stepped up and looked upon the packed crowd below. After a few minutes, the king held up his hands, motioning for them to be silent.

“Etmindor has enjoyed years of peace and prosperity. Our lives have been rich beyond measure. For this land has truly been blessed. Our children have been many and strong, a source of pride for us all.” Many stood there, nodded their heads in agreement while smiling.

“Together, we have lived as friends, families, and countrymen for many years without any threat to Etmindor’s borders. Tonight, it is my sad duty as your king to announce our country now faces the greatest threat since the Andakar Barbarian Wars.” His father paused, attempting to regain his composure.

“Our town of Drennard now only exists in memory, it’s citizens were slaughtered. Murdered by an enemy who also killed Prince Samuel and a patrol, he led.” King Tarran paused for a few moments.

“Our people must not forget those years which have been good for us. Instead, we must cherish them while each remembers what in our lives is worth fighting for.” Having recovered his composure, Donovan’s father started to gird everyone before him for war with a master’s touch. “This night shall mark a new beginning for Etmindor. There is a time for planting and one for harvesting. There is a time for peace and regrettably one for war. Our enemy stalks and seeks to destroy our country and our people.”

King Tarran drew forth his sword and pointed its gleaming blade to- wards the sky. “Bless us with sufficient strength, oh great and powerful Elliana, grant us victory over the evil which plots against us. His father’s voice echoed powerfully. We will not die meekly in the shadows; we will drive this evil from our lands, this I swear!” Donovan’s countrymen stood shoulder to shoulder, voicing their support for their king, for their country. Hours after nightfall, Donovan quietly studied the dark central court- yard below. Its flower gardens were meant to provide solitude from the world outside Kelner’s Bastian. As he stood there, Prince Donovan pondered many things. So much had changed in thirty-two days. Etmindor had changed from a peaceful kingdom to one going to war. Prince Donovan felt his anger surging against the formless mass of his existence.

The prince had fought minor skirmishes yet was untested upon a field of battle. The coming war would sorely test his mettle’s quality. Donovan walked over beside his bed and put out the oil lamp. He crawled in his bed and burrowed under his blanket. Sleep was wickedly slow in coming and was fraught with images of his encounter with his cursed Uncle Samuel.

Prince Donovan kept tossing and turning until finally, he slipped into the throes of restless sleep. A fog beneath him parted, revealing a massive conquering army, a dark stain advancing across Aederan. Men, women, and children destroyed by an evil which marched ever onward. The image changed to show a wide stone road, which led to massive gates.

“You must find the sanctuary, Prince Donovan, for inside is the key to your destiny!” An unknown voice whispered in his mind.

Prince Donovan awakened and lay still with his eyes closed while trying to go back to sleep. Something stirred in his room, momentarily blocking a faint cool breeze blowing upon Donovan from the window. A whisper of sound told him he was no longer alone. Donovan slid his right hand, which beneath his blanket to the edge of the feather mattress and retrieved his dagger. All remained quiet, making him silently question if the intruder had detected his move.

Donovan listened, while his thudding heart grew impossibly loud. As he peered into the darkness, he could barely discern a darker shadow standing beside his bed. The shadowy figure abruptly leaned towards him, and Prince Donovan rolled out of bed. He rose with his dagger in his right hand and with a blanket wrapped around his left forearm to face his attacker.