Harold was King Edward the Confessor's Earl of Wessex, the southern land of England and Earl of Hereford, which lay next to the boarders of Cymru, the country of King Gruffydd's. Now the King of all Cymru was dead, the country was crumbling.
Just twelve days following the funeral, another messenger arrived, bringing forth news that more people were dying from the disease infesting the the nearby village. It was worse than most had thought, spreading further and threatening those who tended the lands. Now the lords within the castle feared for their own safety and comfort, if few could tend the crops, the harvest less than a month away would be evermore meager.
Despite this, Cassandra's mind was occupied elsewhere. No messenger could deliver the news she knew was to come. Harold would not abandon his campaign to take Cymru, now its king was dead it was an apt opportunity to take it, but it wasn't just for the English lords she knew to expect trouble from, the servants she had overheard confirmed her fears, even upon so few words. There was corruption in the court, and Shadows working on all sides around them.
She and Merryn had plans to put into action, but not all of them were to be simple if, any of them could be deemed as such. If secrets were kept between them, it involved the cavern about a days ride away from the castle walls and about the coastline where steep cliffs were pummeled by the sea during the winter. He had apparently discovered the cavern whilst on an errand for the late king, during the prosperous summer of five years ago and said, solely to her, that within held a secret that he once hoped to revisit and discover more, and that day was to come soon.
The moot for the new king was forthcoming, Merryn had already suspected what Cassandra had told him she had heard the servants say but showed no sign that he was perturbed by it at all. She knew him well enough to know that the opposite was true.
'I must tend to the stages of our plans,' Merryn told her atop the wooden battlements that looked out upon the surrounding hills and fields, the crows that had taken up residence near the battlefield were now almost gone. He leaned against the creaking wood, not looking at her. 'I believe that it is a must now to see that stage completed, it should ring with my wife's work and be well timed, I believe'.
'Yet,' she leaned against the high part of the wooden wall beside him to look down upon the bailey, those working tirelessly tending the livestock, bringing in wood from the nearby forest and trade, 'you have not yet told me anything to which I may seek in that part. Only to seek that which dwells within the cavern you call of tears'.
'That is all I may say until that time which to come I can say. Many secrets there could be revealed but should also place us with a chance in the future'. Merryn turned his head to look at her, so she turned to him, their eyes met, his sparkling blue eyes giving away nothing of his own secrets.
'How will this help us in the now?' She asked him.
'Enough, just enough. The moot will not be a success, you and I both know its outcome before it occurs, the effect will be nothing in a few years when another blow is dealt, but we can provide for the future and sow seeds which will spread and flourish when the time comes'. The admittance of the foreseen future was not comfortable for either of them, but despite this, she still believed that the blows could be lessened.
He took her hand, despite the youthfulness bestowed upon them as Ignae, Merryn's age showed upon him in that moment, 'leave upon the morrow and I shall meet thee there when I can'.
Cassandra squeezed his hand tight, thinking of Robert and wishing that he had not left. She and Merryn were the only two who could have remained, they needed each other if they were to succeed. She left him upon the battlements, looking tired and woeful.
*
'Kala hardra i'essen'. The words felt strange upon her tongue, yet they were understood by the elf, nearly as tall as she with long flowing hair, through which his ears pointed, wearing thick clothes of blue coloured wool. Is the voice home? She had asked.
'Fhee, nister mastre seantre'. No nothing can be found. Twelve days they had worked within the cavern tunnels to yield nothing that Merryn had told. She had tried with her own abilities to find the presence that was supposed to live within the darkness before resorting to the elvern and their ways with stone, Egnificks they called it, something which involved changing the energy within stones or other objects with the strength of the mind. Merryn couldn't have been mistaken? For all his age and wisdom, she refused to believe such.
'Maylee sahrt semnen,' keep looking with your folk. The elf, Daym, nodded, and turned to join his fellows deep in the cavern quietly, blackened stone in hand. Relations were already strained between the race of elf and man, they saw the denoucing of their shared beliefs in religion and Egnificks as an insult, an act of betrayal of the old ways. At least some thread of trust remained between them and the Ignae, or Tuatha de Dannan as they called them.
Cassandra turned away from the narrow passageway to walk up to the hole where golden sunlight poured through, she squinted and saw a figure standing near the entrance. It took her a moment to realise who it was.
'Hast thou found him?' Merryn called to her, holding his tall walking staff to the side of him. As she drew closer, she saw something of his warm, wrinkled smile.
'The elvern have found not a thing and I found the search fruitless also!' She embraced her brother then asked, 'but tell me brother, you knew of course that we should fail! So why ask at all?'
'Aha, but you are the better prophet, we always agreed upon that!' He peered over her shoulder and into the darkness of the cavern, a droplet of icy water landed upon the crown of his greying head and slipped down his cheek.
'Even if that were so...' she faltered, knowing how it was true but not wanting to admit it.
'Come on little lamb,' he chuckled, 'be not as it may but as it may be, the time has come to speak with the spirit within'. They walked together into the depths of the cavern, squeezing in single file through the narrow space within the soaked rock towards the chamber that lay ahead. The elvern could be heard echoing off the walls as they chanted and talked, as they came upon them into the chamber all voices fell silent; Merryn, was well respected among their kind.
'May veentap to'. I arrive now, he said to the room aloud. Some of the elvern smirked but others hailed a greeting.
Within the chamber, about seven elvern, some waist to shoulder height and in their twenties, where the rest were almost as tall as either of them and much older had gathered in the space around a still pool and against the walls. A small lamp of burning oil gave the only light in the center of the chamber, but the tiny flame with thinning; Merryn's eyes gazed upon it and he seemed to smile.
Cassandra flicked her hand toward it and gave a little more light into the room and Merryn flicked his own hand to guide the smoke through the passageway. 'You haven't been looking in the right place'. An echo came as one of the elvern translated to those who did not speak the sudden welsh.
As the chamber fell quiet, he lifted his walking staff and tapped the rocky floor with a loud clack, had Cassandra not been looking for it, she might have missed the movement of energy from the staff and into the floor, like a wave of heat.
'Speak dear friend'.
His voice reverberated around the chamber then silence but for the water dripping into the pool. Some of the elvern looked about the chamber, one or two pulled out a stone and held it in their palms, trying to detect the change in energy around them.
A lowing suddenly appeared, long and low but almost like a faint whisper, a language indescribable to her.
Just twelve days following the funeral, another messenger arrived, bringing forth news that more people were dying from the disease infesting the the nearby village. It was worse than most had thought, spreading further and threatening those who tended the lands. Now the lords within the castle feared for their own safety and comfort, if few could tend the crops, the harvest less than a month away would be evermore meager.
Despite this, Cassandra's mind was occupied elsewhere. No messenger could deliver the news she knew was to come. Harold would not abandon his campaign to take Cymru, now its king was dead it was an apt opportunity to take it, but it wasn't just for the English lords she knew to expect trouble from, the servants she had overheard confirmed her fears, even upon so few words. There was corruption in the court, and Shadows working on all sides around them.
She and Merryn had plans to put into action, but not all of them were to be simple if, any of them could be deemed as such. If secrets were kept between them, it involved the cavern about a days ride away from the castle walls and about the coastline where steep cliffs were pummeled by the sea during the winter. He had apparently discovered the cavern whilst on an errand for the late king, during the prosperous summer of five years ago and said, solely to her, that within held a secret that he once hoped to revisit and discover more, and that day was to come soon.
The moot for the new king was forthcoming, Merryn had already suspected what Cassandra had told him she had heard the servants say but showed no sign that he was perturbed by it at all. She knew him well enough to know that the opposite was true.
'I must tend to the stages of our plans,' Merryn told her atop the wooden battlements that looked out upon the surrounding hills and fields, the crows that had taken up residence near the battlefield were now almost gone. He leaned against the creaking wood, not looking at her. 'I believe that it is a must now to see that stage completed, it should ring with my wife's work and be well timed, I believe'.
'Yet,' she leaned against the high part of the wooden wall beside him to look down upon the bailey, those working tirelessly tending the livestock, bringing in wood from the nearby forest and trade, 'you have not yet told me anything to which I may seek in that part. Only to seek that which dwells within the cavern you call of tears'.
'That is all I may say until that time which to come I can say. Many secrets there could be revealed but should also place us with a chance in the future'. Merryn turned his head to look at her, so she turned to him, their eyes met, his sparkling blue eyes giving away nothing of his own secrets.
'How will this help us in the now?' She asked him.
'Enough, just enough. The moot will not be a success, you and I both know its outcome before it occurs, the effect will be nothing in a few years when another blow is dealt, but we can provide for the future and sow seeds which will spread and flourish when the time comes'. The admittance of the foreseen future was not comfortable for either of them, but despite this, she still believed that the blows could be lessened.
He took her hand, despite the youthfulness bestowed upon them as Ignae, Merryn's age showed upon him in that moment, 'leave upon the morrow and I shall meet thee there when I can'.
Cassandra squeezed his hand tight, thinking of Robert and wishing that he had not left. She and Merryn were the only two who could have remained, they needed each other if they were to succeed. She left him upon the battlements, looking tired and woeful.
*
'Kala hardra i'essen'. The words felt strange upon her tongue, yet they were understood by the elf, nearly as tall as she with long flowing hair, through which his ears pointed, wearing thick clothes of blue coloured wool. Is the voice home? She had asked.
'Fhee, nister mastre seantre'. No nothing can be found. Twelve days they had worked within the cavern tunnels to yield nothing that Merryn had told. She had tried with her own abilities to find the presence that was supposed to live within the darkness before resorting to the elvern and their ways with stone, Egnificks they called it, something which involved changing the energy within stones or other objects with the strength of the mind. Merryn couldn't have been mistaken? For all his age and wisdom, she refused to believe such.
'Maylee sahrt semnen,' keep looking with your folk. The elf, Daym, nodded, and turned to join his fellows deep in the cavern quietly, blackened stone in hand. Relations were already strained between the race of elf and man, they saw the denoucing of their shared beliefs in religion and Egnificks as an insult, an act of betrayal of the old ways. At least some thread of trust remained between them and the Ignae, or Tuatha de Dannan as they called them.
Cassandra turned away from the narrow passageway to walk up to the hole where golden sunlight poured through, she squinted and saw a figure standing near the entrance. It took her a moment to realise who it was.
'Hast thou found him?' Merryn called to her, holding his tall walking staff to the side of him. As she drew closer, she saw something of his warm, wrinkled smile.
'The elvern have found not a thing and I found the search fruitless also!' She embraced her brother then asked, 'but tell me brother, you knew of course that we should fail! So why ask at all?'
'Aha, but you are the better prophet, we always agreed upon that!' He peered over her shoulder and into the darkness of the cavern, a droplet of icy water landed upon the crown of his greying head and slipped down his cheek.
'Even if that were so...' she faltered, knowing how it was true but not wanting to admit it.
'Come on little lamb,' he chuckled, 'be not as it may but as it may be, the time has come to speak with the spirit within'. They walked together into the depths of the cavern, squeezing in single file through the narrow space within the soaked rock towards the chamber that lay ahead. The elvern could be heard echoing off the walls as they chanted and talked, as they came upon them into the chamber all voices fell silent; Merryn, was well respected among their kind.
'May veentap to'. I arrive now, he said to the room aloud. Some of the elvern smirked but others hailed a greeting.
Within the chamber, about seven elvern, some waist to shoulder height and in their twenties, where the rest were almost as tall as either of them and much older had gathered in the space around a still pool and against the walls. A small lamp of burning oil gave the only light in the center of the chamber, but the tiny flame with thinning; Merryn's eyes gazed upon it and he seemed to smile.
Cassandra flicked her hand toward it and gave a little more light into the room and Merryn flicked his own hand to guide the smoke through the passageway. 'You haven't been looking in the right place'. An echo came as one of the elvern translated to those who did not speak the sudden welsh.
As the chamber fell quiet, he lifted his walking staff and tapped the rocky floor with a loud clack, had Cassandra not been looking for it, she might have missed the movement of energy from the staff and into the floor, like a wave of heat.
'Speak dear friend'.
His voice reverberated around the chamber then silence but for the water dripping into the pool. Some of the elvern looked about the chamber, one or two pulled out a stone and held it in their palms, trying to detect the change in energy around them.
A lowing suddenly appeared, long and low but almost like a faint whisper, a language indescribable to her.