Light of Elliana: Book One—Of Tears & Darkness

Chapter One: Acceptance

Prince Donovan knew his father and mother, King Tarran Answaar and Queen Katherine Answaar, had decided to be more lenient and patient with him. For this, he was eminently grateful. His parents needed him to become more familiar with all matters of state. For life for a ruler is an uncertain thing.When his father eventually died, Etmindor’s stability would depend on how smooth the transition of power was. In the end, they agreed to allow Donovan to travel North and hunt boar with his friends, to participate in what had become an annual tradition. Afterward, he would return to Kandalare to finish honing what would be required when he became king.

Even though Donovan was next in line to be king, he had never aspired to become a ruler. He had often wished he wasn’t the only heir, for he enjoyed hunting and traveling with his friends, as free as the wind. Donovan walked over to a log he had used for a bench for the last two years. He sat atop the vast deep valleys ridge, where he could observe everything for miles. A pine and hardwood scented wind gently wafted upward from the forest below. It was here where he and his brother Changa felt more at home than anywhere else.

Though Donovan and Changa were not true siblings, they had grown-up and played together since they had both learned to walk. Typically, where you found one, you would find the other through thick and thin.Whether in Kandalare, Changa’s clan, or the surrounding countryside getting into mischief, it was always so. It seemed like yesterday when they were nine years old playing soldiers.

Their closeness did not happen by mere chance; it was by design. King Tarran  and  Centaur  Chieftain  Maska, Changa’s  father, had  grown  up together as children, and it had served to bring both races closer together. Both families had mutually agreed, after speaking to Queen Katherine and Changa’s mother, Cearne. They would send their respective sons to each other’s family when they were nine years old, during the day.

Both King Tarran and Maska believed Mankind’s and Centaur’s futures were inseparably linked. Their plan was for four months a year, five days a week, each would learn about their adoptive family races needs, desires, and cultures.Their challenges at first were many, but with patience and understanding, those had faded away with time. As a result, their plan was more successful than anybody could have ever have imagined. Both Centaur and Mankind in Etmindor had flourished. Now the other four kingdoms were instituting a similar arrangement.

When they were sixteen years old, at a special ceremony, both Changa and Donovan had each received a steel sword forged by Centaur master smith Aganar. The presentation of the swords had signified each was now a man; both would from this time onward accept responsibilities as an adult. Each was also considered a second son by those who had recognized them as a family member.

This and more were reasons why Prince Donovan had come on this trip. He needed to escape, to mull things over. He unsheathed his sword, once more admiring its polished steel blade as sunlight played along its length. There were no greater blacksmiths than the Centaurs, and it had always been so. Royal Families and wealthy merchants alike eagerly sought their skills. Donovan noted someone was approaching and saw Changa was walking towards him. He sheathed his blade and stood up to face his closest friend on Aederan with a smile.

“I was going to come over earlier, but you looked like you needed some time to think things through. I believe you’re making a wise decision. We will still be able to travel together and hunt, but we’ll have to pick and choose when the times are right.” Changa walked beside Prince Donovan as they approached the crackling fire.

“My friend, don’t believe for a minute you’re going to escape from it all when the time arrives. I will need a consultant, and you have always been there when it counted. Our people will need a king who is a wise ruler when my father passes, and I will need someone to remind me from whence I came.” Prince Donovan turned to face Changa with a straight face.

“As long as it’s Elliana’s will, I have sworn to stand beside you in peace and war. It’s why your father and mine started us on this journey, so we would benefit as they have, from each other’s viewpoint,” Changa commented.

Changa grabbed a log and threw it on the fire, sending red embers swirling into the air. Prince Donovan watched as red flames consumed the wood. Approaching hooves drew his attention to shadowy figures with something in tow.

“I agree, hey, it looks like Emec, Maneau, and Davis were successful, and we’re going to have a hot meal tonight.” Prince Donovan walked over to congratulate them as they dragged a beautiful stag into camp.The venison would provide them with much-needed meat for meals.

Sometime later, after Arthur roasted select venison portions upon a large iron spit, everyone gathered around the fire. They were listening to a tune Berren was playing on his wooden flute, which was light and filled with life and made him want to smile. His stocky young soldier friend sat upon a log, as the fire’s red glow reflected off his clean-shaven face, hands, and brown boots. Prince Donovan had heard this song before but never played more beautifully.Tonight, it was an excellent evening to spend with his friends in the forest, far from Kandalare’s hustle and bustle.

It was this, which Prince Donovan feared he would lose when he returned to Kandalare. Among his friends, he had demanded to be called by his given name, with no stuffy title. Here, he was merely Donovan with no formal greetings, no salutes, no sworn oaths. Only twenty men dedicated to camaraderie, who were having a good time.

Voices behind Donovan drew his attention to where Mathew and Davis were painstakingly slicing raw venison. His two friends periodically placed their carved meat in stoneware jugs, which held a brine solution. From there, it would be carefully dried over a low, smoky fire, and added to their food stores. Both men served in the Dawn Breaker Mounted Bri- gade, which is where Prince Donovan informally met them two years ago. 

The occasion was a yearly search for recruits throughout Etmindor, to replace aging or dead brigadiers. The recruitment campaign sought new talent by holding contests for a week.These challenges allowed contestants to show off their fighting prowess, mounted and afoot. Prince Donovan watched the competitions and matches avidly and never ceased to marvel at the various skills on display.

This year’s competitions had been exceptionally successful and had entered their final phase. Early morning sunlight had shown brightly over the horizon. The smell of ripening apples had filled the air. Mathew, a muscular, broad-shouldered fellow with black hair and mustache, had been wearing worn brown leather armor and wielded a hardwood sword. Davis, his opponent, had also been adorned in similar leather armor, though he stood a hair taller than Mathew and was not quite as stocky. His brown hair and clean-shaven face reflected the morning sunlight.

Each contestant had bested all challengers and was now facing their final opponent, with hardwood swords in hand. Mathew and Davis stood opposite each other in a large circle, called the Battle Pit. Donovan had no favorite; he was duly impressed by each man’s fighting skills. General Theodore Anxeswell had already given both men high marks as noteworthy candidates. Providing, they passed their review and accepted the general’s offer to sign-up for the Dawn Breaker Mounted Brigade.

“Men, prepare!” General Anxeswell shouted.

Both young men had raised their hardwood swords, staring coolly at each other, waiting for the shouted command to fight. The first prize would be five gold and a beautiful bay courser.The runner-up would receive iron-studded boiled leather and chain mail armor.These prizes were a small price to pay for the opportunity to study and invite talented young fighters to bolster Etmindor’s military ranks.

“Fight!” General Anxeswell commanded.

Both fighters had warily approached one another, each seeking an opening in the other’s defense. Davis had struck first, with a blinding feint toward Mathew’s right arm and a follow-up blow to the right side of his opponent’s leather helm. His stocky opponent had shaken off the strike and stepped inside the taller man’s swing, and delivered a fist to his face, which the slighter man partially avoided.

Davis had countered, by side-stepping and chopping down on his rival’s right forearm while seeking to strip the wooden sword from Mathew’s grip. In a blur, the stockier man had replied by grabbing his opponent’s wrist and slamming him in the mouth with his head. Shaking his noggin, the taller man had stepped backward, spat out blood, and lunged forward to strike the heftier man a resounding blow on his left leg.

Again and again, each man had suffered blows to their body and face. Both now bled from nose and mouth, and neither stood strongly upright. Mathew was strongest, yet Davis’s speed and agility served to balance out the match. Prince Donovan had never before witnessed such a competition, wherein neither side could gain a distinct advantage. As far as he knew, this had never happened before in these contests.

“We’re going to have to put a halt to this battle, or they’re going to beat each other to death. I’m going to offer each the gold and a courser, for I’ll not choose one over the other. My word, if they’re half as effective on the battlefield as I’ve seen today, I pity the enemy,” his father had said to Donovan with a smile.

His father strode toward the two men who were circling each other. “Hold! Lower your swords, my good men.” King Tarran walked toward both fighters and spoke to each while shaking their right hand. With a broad smile, he turned to face the crowd gathered around the Battle Pit.

“Friends, countrymen, and allies, it has been a privilege to watch our brave men compete this year. Never before have we witnessed such extraordinary fighting ability as seen in this last contest.Therefore, after careful consideration, I have decided to award Mathew and Davis with five gold and a mighty courser each.” His father clapped and smiled ear to ear as everyone cheered and followed suit.

King Tarran had placed his hand to his ear and looked at the large crowd standing around him.“What a beautiful sound. It sounds like some- one’s tapping a keg of Stortman’s ale.Who’s thirsty?”

The crowd went wild, and Prince Donovan walked over to Mathew and Davis, who now stood side-by-side, with full pints, grinning ear to ear. After introducing himself, someone pushed another full pint into Donovan’s hands, and he walked with both men and Changa to some benches where they could become better acquainted.

Somehow, the night became a non-stop blur of laughter, high spirits, and empty mugs. Unfortunately for all, all good things must come to an end. Prince Donovan awakened right after dawn, with Changa, Mathew, and Davis.They were disheveled and bewildered as to who the three half- clothed young ladies were, who was sleeping next to them.

Both Mathew and Davis had each accepted General Anxeswell’s offer to join the Dawn Breaker Mounted Brigade. The friendship between Changa, Mathew, Davis, and Donovan continued to grow, and they shared many hunts and adventures. “Which pretty much described their little venture to the northern regions at this time,” Prince Donovan admitted to himself, with a smile.

Amongst Prince Donovan’s mental meanderings, he pondered over a conversation he had with Changa a few days back. He needed to thank his brother for his complete honesty.

“Donovan, what you ask for, you can’t have, for one day you will be king. Instead, it will be greater than you can imagine. Every man riding with us on this boar hunt is already loyal to you as friend and protector,” Changa said quietly. “Not because you forced us, but because we have chosen to follow you. Because you are who you are, we’ll follow you into death doors, if need be. One day you’ll be a great and just king, and it’s because you care deeply about your kin, countrymen, and your allies.” Those words, though quietly spoken, had moved Prince Donovan profoundly and shattered his quiet pondering about his place in the world.

Changa had confronted Prince Donovan with undeniable truths, which whispered for him to put aside petty things and to accept a higher calling. Never had he heard his current plight described more eloquently.An hour or so later, Donovan was leaning against a stump, watching their crackling fire. He sat there and relaxed, listening to cricket’s chirping. Silently, he acknowledged his brother had done his part as a friend and confidant.

Between things weighing on his mind and their journey here, Prince Donovan was tired. “I’m going to call it a night and get some sleep.” He walked over to his tent and let himself inside. Fumbling around in the dark, Donovan managed to undress and crawled into his bed-roll and covered-up. In no time at all, the prince was dreaming about snow-capped mountains.