The Chronicles Of The Council #1: The Sun's Tears

Chapter 1: Aebbé - Uncharted

"No one can tell what goes on in between the person you were and the person you become. No one can chart that blue and lonely section of hell. There are no maps of [the] change. You just... come out on the other side. Or you don't." - Stephen King

Raven's Peak, Ardam 40

The eighth year of the reign of King Friduric, the first son of Ardam Vaubadon - The First King of Ardam

A flash of lightning lights the air of the bright high-summer sky. Seconds later the rumbling thunder tears through the orchard. My own scream, muffled by the thunder, chills me to the bone. The smell that would haunt me for years to come nestles itself into my memory and muscle. I look to the charred earth, barely discerning where the bodies and scorched tree are.

Another rumble, this time not that of clashing clouds, pulls me from my nightmarish memory as I jolt awake. It takes my eyes a moment to remind my brain of my surroundings: the carriage that I've been travelling in for close to three months. Pins and needles shoot up my hand that I used as a pillow during my nap. Even Ria has been complaining about the absence of legroom and the knobbly pillows.

"You'll be fine," Ria offers meekly while pampering her frizzy curls into a tight bun - just as the lump starts to form in my throat. "Aebbé Vaubadon, we've been gone for a long time. I know you are dreading the etiquette and unspoken rules that await you, but you are the blood of Ardam the Conqueror. If he could unite all our squabbling kingdoms, you can face those whimpering ladies and lords." She offers me a weak smile from the opposite side of the carriage. 

Avoiding her twinkling honest brown eyes, I busy myself with smoothing out the crinkles in the dress, and then part the curtains to steal a glance of our surroundings. We must've entered barely minutes before. The rumble that pulled me from my sleep was probably that of Raven's Peak's heavy gates opening and closing. If I reached out through the window, I could touch the buildings made from the dark stone of the Hiraebev mountains. The crisp air wafting into the carriage brings familiar forgotten smells: the soil of the mountains, apple orchards, and markets selling fresh bread and spices. It also carries the scents of, what is unfamiliar to Raven's Peak, but well-known to me: blood and death.

I recognise a crumbling fountain further down the street as we pass a familiar crossroads. Shocked that the once buzzing square is deserted, I can't help but sigh in relief when I realise that the coachman obeyed my order: do not enter Raven's Peak via the main routes.

I have no desire to be greeted by all the saluting inhabitants of Raven's Peak. There will be more than enough opportunity for them to welcome their estranged princess: Ferdaid and Friduric would have organised a customary feast to welcome me back. I even ordered the guards accompanying Ria and me to leave us yesterday. They did so grudgingly after Captain Fabrizion Ouliu and I came to the agreement that his men could follow us, but only if wearing plain clothes and at a safe distance. The captain had refused to part with us and took his seat next to the coachman, saying that our safety was his only priority.

The coach gives an unnatural squeak, followed by a groan, and then a thump that causes Ria and me to fall from the bench.

"Of course!" I groan.

The horses whinny. The coachman, Mr Nicholas Stabl, mutters an incomprehensible curse and scurries down. He knocks on the door and doesn't wait for us to answer: "M'ladies, one of the coach's wheels has broken."

I deduced that when we slammed to the ground.

"How long will we be delayed, Mr Stabl?" Ria asks sweetly through the parted curtain of the window.