Of Memory and Loss: Prelude

In a place known as Mystmyr, a new summer was rapidly approaching. The scent of budding flowers, fresh grass and sapling trees along with a myriad of other pleasantries that the early spring brings, filled the nostrils of a single white lioness as she strolled over the hills of what was once again becoming a lush and verdant landscape. She paused by a stream of clear flowing water as the newly melted ice flowed from the nearby mountains and lowered her head for a refreshing drink. The cold water rippled lightly as her tongue touched the surface and after a few moments, the lioness backed away from the stream and lay down, rolling lazily on the ground enjoying the warm rays of sunlight. As the day continued into the early afternoon, the lioness slept peacefully.

* * * * * * * * *
The sounds of wood cracking loudly over the courtyard had sounded for most of the afternoon. Eventually the sound faded and a boy breathing heavily stepped away from a man only a few steps away, both held staves and as the child rested one end of the practice staff upon the ground, leaning against it for support, he looked into the eyes of his opponent. The man stood calmly watching.

"I can't get through your defenses!"

"You are not supposed to be able to, yet I will admit you are getting better…" the man stated, "Perhaps you are ready to train with Master Lonan."

"May I father?" the boy asked excitedly. The younger had wanted to start training with the weapons master the previous year, but Master Lonan required the young men he trained to be at least of thirteen years of age and this boy had yet to reach eleven.

"We shall see. First we must let Master Lonan judge your skills to see if he thinks you are ready."

The boy's head lowered slightly and the excitement fell from his voice, "He will say I am not good enough and I have to wait until I am older," the boy sighed from frustration.

"Perhaps and perhaps not… you must remember, you have skills and natural abilities some children do not; hence, you progress faster."

"I know father, but Master Lonan always says we must follow the rules," the boy blurted out with growing fatigue, "I will never be able to start training if…"

"And he knows what he is talking about, Cian. If he does not hold to his principles and the rules he has set, then why should anyone want to follow them when they could just as well do as they please? People will think they can do what they wish because others have slipped through the guidelines."

"Yes father, I know the speech... 'We must hold to our principles and follow the laws above all others,'" the boy recited as he had heard those words for many years.

"Cian, you must understand that because you are my son, you are looked upon by many. Your actions will reflect what others see in you, our family, the Knights of Camelot and in the future of what we all try to maintain as good and just. I… we, can no more break the rules than the badger can fly, otherwise, our actions and honor, our word itself has no meaning. Even if you are ready physically and skillfully, Master Lonan has the final say. We follow his rules in this matter; he judges the mind, body and skill as a whole of those he teaches." The father smiled to his son after he placed a hand on the boy's shoulder, "Come on, your mother will be returning soon and the cooks will have dinner ready."

The father gently urged the young boy toward the castle that was their home, "Besides, tonight is your mother's birthday and I believe you have a surprise for her." At this, the boys face alighted with anticipation and the previous conversation began to fade quickly, "Yes I do! Mother will love her present; I know she will father! I worked on it for weeks and I finished it last night!" he said excitedly as he began to quicken his pace.

At the outskirts of the weapon's storage, father and son stopped, the older turning toward the northern wall with a look of what might have been confusion. "Take this," the father said as he handed his staff to Cian, "and then go get cleaned up. I will be along shortly." The boy took hold of the staff and watched as his father hurriedly walked away and up the steps of the outer castle wall to the northern battlements. A study of the northern land was brief and then the Morninglord hurried along once more to his personal tower, the highest point of the compound.

Why his father left so suddenly, Cian did not know, but hurried along placing the practice weapons in their proper places and then headed into the castle proper to clean and ready himself for his mother's return. Cian had grown up much the way most children did, or at least might want too. He had a loving family; his mother and father had always spent a good deal of time with him. No business affairs were more important to his parents than their child and his happiness. Even in the most distressing times, there were always moments spent together as family. He loved his parents enormously and loved his time with each. Cian could remember from his earliest years listening to fantastic tales while he lay in his mother's arms as both were seated next to his father on the rugs by the hearth at nights before bedtime. He remembered running through the fields nearby on summer days when the three of them would go on afternoon adventures. His father and mother laughing as they played with him like children with no cares in the world.

Cian now was of ten summers old and soon would be eleven. He loved practicing the staff with his father in the courtyard. Recently, he had even been allowed to sit quietly and watch as his father administered affairs of state in the public audience chambers. Now it was time for the big surprise for his mother's birthday. He had spent the last three months hand-crafting her a hair comb of rowan wood, meticulously carving the wood into a lovely work of art with a lioness figure lying in wildflowers as the headpiece and then coating it in oils for preservation, which also enhanced the natural color. Cian had imagined every detail as he had planned and worked the piece. With its completion, he knew the comb would set beautifully in his mother's snow-white hair. Reaching the bath chambers, Cian streaked in through the half open doors, frightening one of the servants nearly off his feet. Before the man could right himself and offer help, the boy was undressed and into the baths washing furiously. He did not want to be late or untidy when he presented himself and his gift to his mother.

* * * * * * * * *
The afternoon had passed by slowly, allowing the lioness a refreshing nap, but it was time now for her to move on. She awoke sometime after mid afternoon and stretched for a few moments before starting home. After a few hundred yards, the lioness shimmered lightly and began walking upright while thick hair of snow white spilled down and flowed well past her shoulders as a warm breeze blew gently by. Rahsinia was human, though she enjoyed using her gift of lion form tremendously on slow afternoons in the springtime. Her green eyes scanned the horizon, the castle she called home was in sight now and it would not be long before she would reach it.

Rahsinia knew her husband and son would be planning a surprise for her birthday, so she had left late in the morning to give them time to prepare. Now though, she was excited to see what they had done. Stopping for a moment to remove a pebble from her slipper, she reached down, rid herself of the small annoyance and then started to move on, but stayed herself instead. The sky was darkening quickly, much faster than it should even for the worst of storms and there was an unnatural feel sweeping in. She took a moment to survey the landscape, trying to note a possible source for the strange weather. Rahsinia felt tense and suspicious of the current events, but the woman had been through worse things than odd weather and strange feelings so continued on her way. Clouds rolled in swirling patterns and the breeze that was refreshingly gentle no more than a few minutes earlier had become strong gusts of wind. Then, as suddenly as it had begun, the air stilled itself and a foreboding quiet hung heavy over the land.

"Lady Rahsinia." The voice was chill and felt of death creeping slowly up her spine. She turned around; there was nothing to be seen. Turning back to her original path with the intention of speeding home, she was cut short. A figure of black, darkened by shadows, was absorbing the light around itself, or possibly repelling it. The dark figure stood in her way and spoke at that moment with a voice that seemed a world away.

"Rahsinia of Mystmyr, come with me." She stood terrified, and, albeit a strong woman, the voice froze her. Magic's of otherworldly origins may have been at work, or perhaps simple human magic's combined for effect, the shock of the figure's appearance must have stunned her terribly as well. She was just noticing her hand clutching the crystal against her chest. Magic, it was her way of summoning a defense and the crystal worked as a conduit. She tried to reach deep into her being, into the reserves of calm she had almost lost, to summon the will required to create a mystical shielding or anything that could help her. Nothing emanated and a sick, dark feeling of horror crashed through her body and mind as she looked back to the mysterious being.

* * * * * * * * *
At the base of the stairway that led up into the tower, the Morninglord paused to look at the rapidly darkening sky and every fiber of his being said that something was wrong. Feet moved rapidly carrying him to the top of the stairs and out the upper end onto the flat landing of the spire. Upon reaching the outer wall, the man's gaze went out. He could sense the disturbance growing stronger and knew where to look. A whispered "Rahsinia" escaped his lips and at that same moment came a voice that no being could call natural, flowing like thin oil on the wind. "This world you hold dear will fall to ruin and you will know not who I am." The oily voice whispered into Morninglord's mind, "I start with your wife. Soon, others will fall, and with each my grasp will continue to crush the life from this world and still, you shall know not who I am." Then there was no more. The darkness receded and the day appeared as normal.