The Dreaming Goddess

Chapter Two: What Lies in the Mist

 Writing a letter to Mother was far more complicated than William had expected. For one thing, he was having second thoughts. The office, his Father's office once, was a small place with lots of books and papers he'd read for ages. The ink and parchment were something he was well-acquainted with writing. Most nobility was, and William was well-educated by their standards. Often, Father had entertained guests here and Grandfather. The old Duke Garath had compiled some of the most extensive records in Haldren.

There had been little else to do. House Gabriel's fortunes had been on the wane after losing the Escorian Civil War. What ought to have been Erik the Voyager's great triumph became his final humiliation. One of the greatest heroes of his era, the old man had to flee to Haldren to regroup. As an old man, he and his descendants had served in the name of Haldren. The Kings of this Land had been waning, but House Gabriel had proved critical in stopping the decay. And at last, they were awarded Gel Carn, a rocky and defensible realm north of House Telus. But, unfortunately, they were meant to be vassals.

But Father would never be a vassal again, not since the Duke had returned with Mother as a bride. He had returned before all the rest of his companions. House Gabriel's star was rising through political maneuvering and brilliant military feats. And William had been left outside until now. He did not want to be involved in the wars nor to win great glory for his house.

In the old days, writing was a rare skill, but with the rise of King Andoa, I had seen Antion become dominant. And Andoa II had picked up where he left off and arranged tutors for the nobility.

Rusara had put a hand to all of that. She habitually taught people around Harlenor how to write and tell stories. Still, William wondered if his desire to see Father again would be well received. However, he'd already told Raynald and Rusara he was coming, so he didn't feel proper backing out now. Also, he wanted to see the world outside, even if he feared it.

Now, he sat in his room, writing a draft as best he could; his doubts ran through his mind. Eventually, he finished his letter and set down his quill. Then, drawing up the parchment, he read it to himself and threw it into the fire in disgust. Then, taking up another sheet of paper, he started writing again.

This was his fifth draft.

"I can't believe you are going along with this," said Felix.

"Rusara and Raynald know best, I'm sure," said William, only half believing it himself. "Besides, Tanith left Carn Gable at about this age?"

"Tanith was of the Telus family," said Felix. "They are of lower rank than you. Have you forgotten House De Chevlon used to be House Gabriel's archenemy? There was an entire war fought in Escor between your families. Rusara was on the De Chevlon's side."

"That was a long time ago, Felix," said William. "No one is still holding a grudge about that. Least of all, Raynald." This was a gross exaggeration at best, but it was polite.

"The slaughter of Anoa the Bright's heirs was long ago," muttered Felix. "Yet everyone still hates Calishans." Anoa the Bright was the most excellent King in the world. Or at least the most outstanding war leader, depending on who you asked. Father regarded Anoa as a kind of necessary destructive force. A forest fire clears out the deadwood of the decadent old world. The elves hated him because they had run that world. But humanity was forever in his debt, and he'd been the one who led to the Halfling's rise to prominence. As a result, his name was universally feared.

But that was long ago. The sense of politics had changed, and the all-out conflict was gone forever. The orcs were exterminated, and the goblins were dead. The giants stuck to their hills, and the dragons had gone into banking. And to the east, under the hand of Baltoth, lay Calisha.