Letters from a Friend

From:"anastacia_lightlock"
Date: Sun Sep 26, 2004 10:51 am
Subject: Penned

The weary barroness sat at her desk late at night with the candle
dripping slowly beside her. The frangrance of white roses surrounded
her as they did her room. The light flicker a tad. She rose her
hand over the gem to her left. Instantly one of her many servants
appeared out of nowhere. "Yes, please prepare my bed as I will need
my rest after I'm done here and send for a messenger after you have
completed your task." It seemed that the little things still took a
lot out of her and she knew that the travel she had done had not been
kind to her health. Death can do that to a person.

Anyway, the deed at hand. She picked up the pen and delicately began
the dance onto the parchment.

"To the Lady of House Trakand:

I have meant to write to you sooner but alas, I tend to feel a
little weak these days. First business I would like to address is my
thanks to you for returning me to my husband and quite honestly
helping return to the living. Death is never becoming to anyone but
from my understanding, you made it a more bearable experience.

I would also like to extend some gratitude to some of the other
members of your household. I recently made a trip with my husband up
to the City-State of Drandmir, my old residence to see the knighting
of our dear friend Kelsar. My health still hasn't been completely
returned to me. Keject who I believe is a member of your household
never let it pass his attention to make sure I was more comfortable.
And Cairun kept me in stitches with laughter and laughter sometimes
can be the best medicine. Therefore I would like to extend this
appreciation for everything your household has done for me although I
truly do not think words could be enough.

In your service,
Baroness Anastacia Lightlock
House Hollowfist"

Stacia hand barely was able to move the pen away before just dropping
completely. She felt like she really had no control. The messenger
appeared in the doorway. The servant girl came to Baroness
Lightlock's side and helped her up. "Yes I need you to deliver this
to Trakand Manor. There is no rush to do it tonight as I know it is
late but please do it first thing in the morning." Without a word
the messenger bowed and vanished with the letter. The servant aided
Anastacia to the bed.

Ongoing Writing: Where the Arrow Flies

Where the Arrow Flies
by: Catrysa Trakand

The sun rose over the palace aides. A lazy guard stretched and yawned.

"I hate third watch," a guardsman commented, rubbing a ruddy fist into his eyes.

A sword's length away, another guard sighed, "Well, it's almost over." He rolled his shoulder, "The weather's changing."

The was a laugh, "Good old gramps. A better weather vain you never will find." The rest of the wall-guard laughed, while below their long sought after replacements moved out from the castle barracks.

********************************************************************

Rachel Ardent, a young soldier of sixteen, walked with the Dawn's Guard, as she had called them since she was old enough to walk into site of the castle on her own. Her father had been a guard. And his father, and his father. But she was the first woman in her family to become a guard. Not that a guardswoman was anything special, but her family was a bit backwards in that respect. A soft smile, and she begun the climb to the top of the palasaide. 'Today, like everyday. As exciting as the first,' she repeated silently to herself, like a morning prayer.

"Hey, Ardent," a gruff voice called out. An older guardsman, grey beginning to pepper into his hair of thick black locks, his face a sun-weathered red-brown, grinned at her. "You got a rain coat?"

Rachel chuckled softly, remembering his name, "You think I'm going to need it, Melendez?" She stepped to his side, a lean frame towering a full head over his stockier form.

He looked up and winked. "I don't, but Gramps does. Complaining about that shoulder again."

"Oh is he," Rachel replies questioningly chuckling. Thumbing over her shoulder and back toward the barracks adding with a coy grin, "Then sounds like I should head back to my bunk and grab my coat!"

Ongoing Writing: War of Hearts

‘War of Hearts, Part One’
by Catrysa Trakand
Tourney Date: June 14, 2003 – Silver Spire MidReign

Crats: Edana Delaney of Hollowfist and Sage Dragoria
Note: The original was written by hand. In typing it to electronic format, some names have been reworked, grammar and spelling corrected, and details changed to better fit the flow of the story.

Memories drift past my eyes
Of light and dark
Of joy and sorrow...

A scream pierced the silence of the dawn, a sharp shrill cry. It sang of heartache and stopped as suddenly as it began.
Liana bolted upright in her bed, shaking off the haze of dreams that clung, still, to her mind like a frightened child. Her heart racing, she glanced down at the sleeping face of her daughter; the only living link to her husband, dead these six years past.
Shaken and unable to fall back asleep, Liana rose quietly, and stole down to her living chamber, brushing back her sleep mussed hair.
‘Silly,’ she mused to herself, the cool water she splashed on her face refreshing, ‘It’s just a stupid dream. It doesn’t mean anything.’

---

“Enter,” a deep voice rang from inside the command tent. A young page, hardly more that two hands of years, peeked gingerly into the lantern lit interior. “Set your message on the table and see Cook about a meal.”
The camp commander sat behind his desk. A tall man, his hard eyes never once left the maps spread out before him until after the page’s departure. Steel colored eyes regarded the wood and leather scroll case for long moments, before his sword-calloused hands took it up. He turned it over a few times then broke the wax seal. A yellowed parchment slid into view.

Lord General Treven,
It does my heart good to know your men are in good spirits. The siege on El’emor is complete; the Ruling Lord surrendered. Take Redmond Castle before the end of Lithia Night’s Festival. My forces, the ones not holding El’emor Palace, are camped at Bilberry Bridge. We will march on Redmond in two fort nights. I will meet you at the palisade wall before the new year.
High Priest Savit’ha.

‘Redmond Castle,’ Treven sighed, setting the letter alight with the small flame of a nearby candle. ‘We’ll have to raze the village New Crown to get there in time.’ He pursed his lips, eyes narrowed, ‘A reprovisioning, then.’

---

Midday rapidly approached. It was the worst time of day, as far as Liana was concerned. She paused in her work, and looked about the lazy field of grain. She was the first to notice the odd shadow on the horizon; a shadow drawing nearer with each breath.
“Crelad,” she called, a hand over her eyes. “Do you see that?”
Crelad, a man of some two and half pairs of hands stood and moved to Liana’s side. He too drew a hand over his eyes, and studies the horizon a moment. He frowned, “I don’t know. Let’s go to the watch tower.”
A nod, and Liana set down her hoe to follow him to the village’s only means of defense: the watch tower.

---

“Can you tell what it is,” Liana asked, worriedly peering over the Militia Captain’s shoulder.
“It looks like a... like a... mod,” the captain replied, trying to bring the shadow into focus. “There’s quite a large number of them. Wait, some are holding banners.” Stunned, the captain stops, bringing the spyglass from his eyes. Liana opened her mouth to ask, but the captain breathed, “It’s an army.”

---

“Mama! Mama, I’m scared,” Tulle’s cries broke into Liana fear-numbed heart as she pushed her child toward the village’s matron.
“Don’t be. Everything will be alright, Tulle,” Liana lied, trying on a brave face and finding it an ill-fit. Lacking gazes with the matron, Liana said not a word; the matron knew. She nodded and replied, “Of course, Liana. God keep you safe until next we met.”
Liana turned her face as her daughter was led away. One look, she knew, and her resolve would crumble to the fear she felt choking her. She turned and strode to the locked chest; the chest that once belonged to her husband.

---

“How should we attack, General,” asked a young corporal, sitting fancy in his saddle. Dark hair swept back over his broad shoulders, Treven could only eye the lad with disgust.
He snorted a response, an irritated sneer breaking his stormy expression, “It’s a village, Corporal. A farming village. March in and seize the church. If they fight, burn everything.”


Memories drift past my eyes
Of light and dark
Of joy and sorrow
And I can’t, but close my eyes
To the tears
Of joy and sorrow...

Ongoing Writing: Healing Trials

**A note about this work: This is a work in progress. It only gets typed on every so often if at all. One day, the full story will be told, and then taking down for publishing and submission to the Kingdom's History Books. Until then, enjoy.**

(9/10/2003):
T'Quenyshaa had never done anything spectacular. A young elfess, she travelled to Silver Spire to study at the academy. She hadn't her family's way with trees and the creatures of her woodland home. She was rather bland and unamazing, as far as elves go, even when compared to humans. Especially when compared to humans.

Daily, T'Quenyshaa found herself awestruck by the speed at which her human classmates learned.

"Really, T.Q! It's not all that difficult," her lab partner said, his voice exaperated. They had been working on measuring out an herbal tea to help a young child sleep through a battle with the pox.

T'Quenyshaa frowned, her fine brows drawing toward the fine bridge of her nose, while her lower lip stuck out in a tiny pout. She stared at the dried leaves and powered roots on the table before her. 'If only they were alive,' she mused to herself. 'They just don't smell right like this.'

"Hey! Are you paying attention?"

Startled from her thoughts, the young elfess looked up at her lab partner. 'Trevyn,' she reminded herself, before her breath caught in her throat. Trevyn was nearly glowering at her.

"You're the worst lab partner I've ever had," he stated rudely before turning away to mix his tea to present to the professor.

T'Quenyshaa blinked a few times, unnerved by Trevyn's outbrust. 'Human emotions are so strong,' she whimpered silently, her eyes once again returning to the lab instructions they had been given, and the ingredients the professor had provided. 'Which one is the ground willowbark?'