The Forgotten Page 2
“You want someone like Ava,” Grifon said softly.
He winced as Grifon made that one truly accurate, yet simple statement. He didn’t exactly want a woman with Hunter blood in her but yeah, Grifon was right, he did want a woman with a clever brain in her head that didn’t shriek when she saw something distasteful like Ethelbert had done when they’d been touring Albia.
A blind beggar had crossed their path, when presented with the sight, she’d screamed to high heaven and had hidden behind him. She’d actually been afraid that the piece of filth as she put it, would accost her or infect her with the Andorath Plague.
He’d ended their relationship that night, and even though he’d liked having the brainless beauty on his arm, he couldn’t put up with her ideas on how the Kingdom should deal with the lower classes.
He wanted a woman like the image of the woman who had haunted his dreams during his curse. He wanted a woman with elfin ears, a heart-shaped face, eyes a warm green that made his gut twist in a good way whenever he thought of the brilliant hue, and a rosebud mouth that just invited a good kissing.
“I want a mate who can understand me. I want someone that isn’t as shallow as a mud puddle and who can understand those who have sorrow weighing heavily on their hearts and souls.”
“Someone who can understand men like us. Men who have fought the darkness and won,” Grifon said.
“Aye.” Lucan sighed heavily, and gestured to the portrait of Algernon. “Algernon had seen terrible suffering. He’d seen death and those who suffered horrifically before dying. He told me once that sometimes those horrendous images haunted his dreams but when he was awake, he lived for the moment, and reveled in the good that does exist. He told me that no matter how many men I had to kill that I couldn’t lose sight of the genuine goodness that resonated inside of some people. He told me that it was our duty as Knight Mages to defend the meek, and the weak. He said we had a divine right to defend those who could not defend themselves.”
“He was right,” Grifon said. “When you go back to the village of your birth, if it gets too much and if my father won’t allow me to send anyone else, I will gather the men of our Order together and we will ride to your aid. We became true brothers in arms during those years spent under Lady Red Riding Hood’s dark enchantment, and no matter what I will stand with you when you are in your time of need, as you would stand with me.”
“When I was accepted into the Royal Order of Saint Alby, I knew my life would never be the same. I knew I had to honour the Order as it had existed for over nine hundred years, and I knew that for as long as I lived, the men and women that were a part of that Order would have my undying allegiance, so I know that if I need help, you and the others will ride to my aid, but thank you for saying it out loud, Grifon. It means more than I can ever say.”
“I’ve lost too many good friends. I won’t ever abandon those that survived.”
The clicking of women’s heels filled the hallway. Lucan didn’t want to look, lest it be that blasted Ethelbert. She’d shadowed him all night, trying to gain his attention once more.
When Princess Ava came into view, Lucan let out a relieved sigh.
“Ava, my love, we’re almost done,” Grifon said softly.
“I don’t mean to rush you two. I just couldn’t bear having your father looking at me so severely. He was starting to make my skin crawl. I do believe that if looks could kill, I would have been dead long ago,” she laughed, but the sound was hollow, telling Lucan that she seriously did worry about King Marcus.
It was fortunate that Ava could look after herself. He pitied any who would try to make Grifon a widower. He sometimes wondered if King Marcus would attempt to send assassins after Ava. If he did, it would be as good as signing their death warrants.
“Lucan is going home to the County of Cambria.”
“As he should—we shouldn’t think to keep him with us. He needs to set right the injustices happening there. You did tell him that should he need help, we would come, did you not?”
“My wife worries too much. Indeed I told him that, my love. Lucan knows he can always rely on me.”
“I would welcome the opportunity to dress in something more relaxed and don my Hunter cloak again. I almost hate to say it but I miss the Hunt. I miss having a weapon in my hands. The way I have to get myself done up to be presentable as a princess why I think I’m wearing a death trap. These infernal corsets shall be the undoing of me,” she said, palming her side with a grimace. “It’s good to see the two of you looking so happy, though I daresay, Sir Lucan’s happiness can be attributed to escaping Lady Ethelbert. You needn’t worry, I gave her a task that would keep her busy for a while. I knew you wanted some time away from her, Sir Lucan.”
“I give you my thanks, Princess.” He bowed his head to her.
Ava beamed at them both. She was a lovely women with eyes that could light up the room and make everyone in it forget their worries.
Her frock was made of the finest amethyst coloured silk that Shardizar was known for and was adorned with pearls. It must have weighed heavily, and yet she walked as if she was fleet of foot like a fairy.
The gold tiara she wore matched the crown Grifon wore. She suited Grifon in every way, and her beauty surpassed any of the other ladies at Court, for she possessed what so many of them lacked—she was beautiful inside and out.
“I’ve contemplated whether or not to tell you what I’m about to say to you, Sir Lucan, but I do believe you deserve to know that there are some in your home village that you can rely on should the going get tough—and if I’m right, the going will get tough very quickly. You need to be prepared for that in advance. To be very clear, you are not going back to the village as you knew it.”
“I welcome knowing about anyone who would stand against a man like the one who is currently in power.”
“You might not like hearing what I have to confide in you. There is a woman there that leads the quiet Resistance against the Pack of corrupted wolf shifters. However, you’re not going to like knowing that she has Hunter blood running through her veins—“
“As long as she doesn’t hate all wolf shifters, we won’t have an issue.”
“She has been persecuted for what she is, Sir Lucan. Not only does she have Hunter blood in her, she also has Changeling blood—the changeling blood is a bit stronger than the Hunter blood.”
He stiffened, and sat up straight.
The Changelings were native to the Kingdom of Avonry, and as such they were a rare find in Shardizar.
The fact that the County of Cambria was a good distance from Avonry puzzled him—she was a long way from home.
“I know you must be trying to figure out how she can have changeling blood and live so far away from Avonry but that tale is not mine to tell, Sir Lucan. Just know that she has suffered much throughout her relatively short life time, and now calls your mother’s Tavern her home. If it impacts your opinion of her, she knew your mother well, and took care of her during her last days of life.”
Pain burned in his chest. He should have been there for his mother during her time of need—if this woman had seen her through her time of passing from this world to the next, she couldn’t be young, which was good. He couldn’t risk getting emotionally involved with such a woman.
“What can she change into?”
“As you know changelings aren’t that much different from shifters—the only difference being that some do not change into an animal skin but can actually change their faces or change into another form altogether if they wish. They are not limited like the shifters from Shardizar. Their magic isn’t like ours, so I’m sure she’ll surprise you in many ways. Also, I hear that she has ears like that of a pixie.”
“I didn’t know that. I’ve never met a changeling before.”
“Well, get ready to meet one because there won’t be any way for you to avoid her once you return to Glynneath Village. She makes a point of introducing herself to any newcomer and you’l
l hold a special attraction for her as you are a Wylde, and she made a vow to your mother to watch over any in her line.”
“I guess I should know her name.”
“She’s the mistress of Wylde Wolf Tavern and her name is Nerienda Kyneswyth. I have never before known a woman like her, Sir Lucan. I trust you and she, will be loyal to each other, and for my sake, you will do your best to become her good friend.”
“I’m sure we’ll get along just fine. And if you wish for me to take her into my confidence as a friend, I shall do so.” Sighing heavily, he stood up and looked one last time at the man who had helped to turn a boy into a man to be reckoned with. “Farewell, Algernon, my good friend, you were the best teacher—the best mentor a boy could ever have. Now I need to go and get ready for my journey.”
“Sleep well, Sir Lucan. For you shall not have a moment of rest once you return home,” Ava advised, giving him a serious smile.
He bowed chivalrously to Ava, nodded his head to Grifon, and made his way to the sprawling chambers he had been assigned to in the Palace.
*****
“You failed to tell him that Neri wasn’t a decrepit old woman as I think he expects. You also didn’t tell him that she’s—“Grifon stopped himself before he called the woman beautiful.
“It is okay, Grifon. You can still admit that women are beautiful, even though we are married. Just as I can admit that Sir Lucan is one of the most handsome men I’ve ever seen.”
He worked his jaw, hard. “I suppose you are right,” he said, a halt to each of his words.
“Still, he’s going to be knocked off his feet by her ethereal beauty.”
“I hope he is. He deserves to be happy.”
“That he does. They’ll either fall madly hopelessly in love, or hate each other. Either way, they’ll be passionate for one another.”
“You are quite wicked, Ava.”
“And that, my dear,” she said, kissing him lightly, “is why you love me.”
Chapter Two
Cambria Country
Gwynedd Valley
Glynneath Village
Lucan felt like a madman let loose. The realm as he’d once known it had changed drastically in one hundred and fifty years, despite having the same king on the throne. It had been two months since he’d been released from his living hell and still, he couldn’t adjust to the way the world was now.
He yearned for the life he remembered, and deep in his soul, he knew why he would never again be at peace. He was part of the forgotten. Time had continued marching on without him, and as he neared the village of his birth, the fear of what he would find awaiting him put ice into his veins.
The memories of his life before the curse were fresh and raw in his mind, and he couldn’t resign himself to the fact that the world he’d lived in no longer existed.
He would be home soon. He stood on the hill overlooking the vast valley that he’d been born in and drank in the blessed country air.
The green rolling hills dotted the landscape like patches on a quilt. The bouncy white clouds seemed so close, it was almost as if he could snatch them out of the sky. The mountains in the distance watched over them all, and awed him once again with their rugged beauty.
He looked to the water powered Grain Mill in the distance that overlooked the River Gwynedd, memories of his time playing around it fresh in his mind. It all looked so serene, so tranquil. How his soul had yearned to look upon the land of his birth once more while trapped in the Obsidian Forest.
He heard his mother’s tinkling laughter—like bells ringing, traveling to him on the softly blowing wind.
The realization that he was finally home sunk into him, and twisted almost painfully in his gut. If only he had someone to return to. Nonetheless, only duty to the Crown would pull him away from this land again. He would live out the rest of his life here. He would venture from these lands to ride to Grifon’s side but he would never again leave this land for good.
The power of his love for this county was deeply entrenched in his soul. He would liberate it from those who reigned over it with iron fists, for this was the country of the Gods blessed beyond compare.
The same Crofter Cottages he remembered as a boy lined the fields and the golden wheat this area produced, sparkled in the sunlight. The Village looked the same as always, and the large building of his family’s tavern dominated the village square. The large wooden sign that read, The Wylde Wolf Tavern flapped in the gentle breeze. With his keen wolf shifting eyesight, he drank in everything that he had so missed. Of course, it had a melancholy to it. It actually looked sad.
He had to heal the land and the people—that much he now knew.
Not far in the distance, standing behind the stone wall erected by the 1st Baron of Wythley stood Wythley Castle, the grey stone that had built the impressive fortress commanded his eyes to feast upon it. The sunlight dappled down upon it and the stone sparkled as if jewels had been crushed into a powder and sprinkled onto it.
His heart thrilled, as his eyes feasted upon his birthright. His father never wanted him to be the Earl of Wythley, and now, his father’s ashes were literally in the wind and he was the only survivor of the Whittier and Wylde line.
Wythley Castle was one of the largest strongholds in the Kingdom of Shardizar, and any man would be blessed by the Gods to be Lord of it.
The rich fertile land of Gwynedd Valley gave untold riches to the land baron who ruled over it. To say that he was furious that a bastard commanded such a blessed place was an understatement.
His father’s ancestors had ruled over this area for over a thousand years, and had commanded the title of baron before being given the title of earl.
He had to do all that he could, to ensure that the blasted Lord Ulwyn was knocked off his perch of power, and that that power was restored to the one who knew how to wield it. And, he was that man.
Heart wrenching screams in the distance made his ears wince. He swallowed heavily and resisted the keen urge to dismount his horse and transform into his wolf form to rush to the woman’s aid.
He couldn’t reveal himself as a shifter yet—he had to bide his time. Instead, he would ease into the world of his birth to suss out the situation at hand. He wanted to see the bastard’s handiwork for himself before he challenged him.
Nonetheless, he would not remain indifferent to a woman’s suffering. Jerking the reigns of his horse, he steered the steed toward the terrified shrieks. They galloped down the hill toward a farmhouse, the farmhouse that he remembered as belonging to the Chilton Family—and indeed it was named appropriately for it was called Chilton Farmhouse.
This structure was different from the small crofter cottages, for unlike those buildings, this Farmhouse and the small parcel of land they worked, was owned by the family who farmed the land—they were not tenants like those who lived in the crofter cottages.
He’d been sweet on Leonora Chilton as a young lad. She’d been such a beautiful young thing with hair the colour of the wheat this land produced. She’d been so lovely with her dancing brown eyes and her shy smile.
“Stop it, please! He’s just a boy, he didn’t know what he was doing! Please, I beg of you, unhand him! I will do anything for you, just let him go!”
The woman’s voice took him by surprise, he’d almost lost the sing-song accent that people from this region spoke with, and hearing it again made his ears ring with joy.
“This little piss ant knew he was stealing from Lord Ulwyn. He knew exactly what he was doing when he took the loaves of bread from our kitchens. Lord Ulwyn doesn’t suffer thieves gladly. He punishes them most foully so all know they can’t take what doesn’t belong to them!”
As he came into view of the terrible scene, rage flowed through him.
The woman who was begging for the boy’s life was skin and bones. Her clothing hung limply on her and her hair was grey far before its time. Her entire body shook as the men in front of her held the boy between them. The man who’d spoken, was
holding his sword out and it didn’t take a genius to realize what he planned to do.
“He took them for me and his baby sister! If you want to punish someone take my hand! Please, I beg you leave my son alone!” She struggled to free herself of the man who held her arms behind her back.
Lucan’s anger was so stoked that he did something he hadn’t done since before he was cursed. He used his powers to knock the men off their feet in one concussive blast of wind.
“What the hell,” sneered the man holding the sword, he looked wildly about him, his bullish beady little eyes finding and then settling on Lucan.
Lucan quickly dismounted, and strode toward them, standing so he was guarding the woman.
“Come over here, lad, where it’s safe,” he instructed calmly.
The boy willingly complied, rushing over to Lucan and standing behind him. He could hear the boy’s mother clutching him to her chest and kissing him over and over again.
Lucan wore a non-descript black cloak, matching trousers, boots and shirt that only a nobleman could afford. They had all been enchanted to enable him the luxury of shifting without having to strip his clothes off.
In fact, all of his rich garb painted him as a nobleman but he lacked the markings that he usually wore as a member of the Order of Alby. He didn’t want anyone here to know that he was that closely affiliated with the King and Grifon until he knew exactly what he was dealing with.
If someone was smart enough, they would recognize the gold signet ring he wore as being from the Order.
However, based on the men in front of him, he doubted that any would be sharp enough to deduce those facts, and right now he wore riding gloves hiding the ring.
“You stupid sod, you are a gormless nitwit! You don’t know who you are messing with!” The one brute said, as he struggled to get up.
“Somehow, I’m not worried,” Lucan said. “If you all know what is good for you, you will return to your master and tell him that his violent ways will no longer be tolerated. So the boy took a few loaves of bread, I see no real harm done. I daren’t think your fat master will starve because he lost a little bit of bread.