Back From Chaos

BACK FROM CHAOS

~ EARTH’S PENDULUM ~

~ BOOK I ~

YVONNE HERTZBERGER

Cover Design by Neil Jackson

Set in Times New Roman

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ISBN 978-0-9878260-1-5

Website ~ www.yvonnehertzberger.com

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Copyright © Yvonne Hertzberger 2011

BACK FROM CHAOS

~ EARTH’S PENDULUM ~

~ BOOK I ~

YVONNE HERTZBERGER

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

This endeavour would not have been possible without the support and assistance from a number of special people. I would like to thank each of them.

During the writing process I relied heavily on support and feedback from my spouse, Mark, and friend Thomas. They believed in me when my confidence flagged.

My readers also deserve special thanks: Angie, Grace, Janet, Kathleen, Lyrra, Noah, Pretty, Ruth and Tish. You are all the best.

This edition was made possible with the help of Neil Jackson, cover design and programming support.

LIST OF CHARACTERS:

Earth: source of all life, sentient

CATANIA (cat-an-yah):

Cataniast (cat-an-yast), defeated lord

Marja (mar-yah), only surviving member of his line

Brensa (bren-sah), her lady in waiting

Nellis (nell-is), second lady in waiting, expecting first child soon

Mikost (mee-kost), Nellis' husband, stable hand

Keisha (kay-shah), Marja’s mare

Wilnor (wil-nor), aristocrat, plotter

BARGIA (Bar-geeah):

Gaelen (gay-len), second son of Lord Bargest, now lord of both Catania and Bargia

Lionn (lee-on), Gaelen’s elder brother, now dead

Klast (klast), trusted spy for Bargia (also uses name Mirral when under cover)

Argost (ar-gost), advisor to Gaelen

Janest (ja-nest), advisor to Gaelen

Sinnath (sinn-ath), advisor to Gaelen

Grenth (grenth), advisor to Gaelen, head of military

Marlis (mar-liss), Sinnath’s wife

Wendan (wen-dun), Janest’s wife

Naila (nay-lah), Grenth’s wife

Messalia (mess-al-yah), schemer, believed to be seer

Liethis (lee-thiss), true seer

Kerrissa (cair-iss-ah), Sinnath’s mistress

Grinth (grinth), justice

Gorn (gorn), spy

Rellin (rell-in), mercenary, ringleader

Gurth (gurth), Farl (farl), Rellin’s men

Lotha (loath-ah), midwife

Simna (sim-nah), prostitute and friend to Klast

Ornan (or-nan), traitor

Norlain (nor-lain), innkeeper’s wife

Haslin (haz-lin), innkeeper

Liannis (lee-an-iss), unborn seer

LIETH (leeth), Demesne to west

Wernost (wer-nost), lord of Lieth

Merlost (mer-lost), his son and heir

GHARN (garn), Demesne to east of Catania and north of Bargia

Rand (rand), Klast’s abuser as a boy

~

1 ~

VICTORY AND CAPTURE

Marja clutched her small jewelled dagger with white-knuckled fingers. She crouched in the corner, pressed tightly behind the door of the privy, willing herself invisible. The rough wood at her back pricked her through the light linen of her gown, and the muscles in her legs threatened to cramp from holding herself rigid. Her heart raced with terror. She knew if they found her she was dead, or even worse. She had heard what soldiers did to women, especially young, comely ones. Her beauty would not serve her now, nor would her rank as daughter of the ruling house. She gripped the dagger tighter. They will not take me. I will not suffer that. I cannot.

She suppressed the impulse to gag from the reek of burnt buildings and charred flesh. Even the usual stench of the privy was preferable to this. She tried in vain to blink away the smoke that filled every space and burned her eyes. Her nose tickled, and she fought the urge to sneeze or cough. Any noise might give her away.

Mercifully, she no longer heard the screams of the women and children. The last span or so had gone quiet except for the muffled sounds of men putting out fires. She could make out only the occasional shouted order from a soldier. She hoped to Earth that meant it was over. Perhaps she would escape after all … if she could stay hidden until dark. She knew a back way out but could not safely get to it. They might see her crossing the hall if she left her hiding place now. Too many enemy soldiers still moved about. Keep still. Do not give yourself away. Wait, she repeated to herself, over and over, like a hypnotic chant.

Marja’s body jerked in a spasmodic shudder as she recalled again the chaos that had wakened her at dawn. The Bargian army was well-trained and well-armed. They had successfully taken her father’s army by surprise, by hiding in the forest only half a day’s ride away and slipping close under cover of darkness. Had her father not scorned the advice of his advisors to guard the city more vigilantly, his people might not now be paying the price of his madness. The thought filled Marja with a moment of fury. Why had he not listened?

Marja wondered how Cataniast’s informants had convinced him that the rumours of a planned invasion were false. Somehow they had persuaded the suspicious autocrat that the Bargians wanted to finish spring planting before coming to take Catania. Who had managed this clever misdirection? Had the Bargians bought off her father’s informants?

Marja knew that many in Catania would be pleased to see the House of Cataniast fall. A pall of fear, suspicion and secrecy had hung over his court for years. She had watched many merchants and shopkeepers flee Catania, and she could not blame them. Some had gone to Bargia, the enemy who now bore responsibility for their defeat.

Only spans earlier, a servant had come running to Marja, crying, “Flee, my Lady. We must go now!” Marja had refused. At the girl’s tearful request for permission to go, Marja had given it freely. She saw no purpose in keeping the terrified maid with her.

How could things have come to this so quickly? She had heard Northgate fall before midday. The sounds of clashing swords, the shouting of soldiers, and the cries of men dying had reached her even where she hid deep within the castle.

Marja knew that her father had fought at Northgate and had heard from the frantic shouts of the retreating men that he had been slain. After that, the invaders soon breached Eastgate and Southgate and overran the city. Those who had not been killed had fled. Now she waited alone for the death that surely awaited her.

When she could remain still no longer, Marja decided to venture into the main hall. If she could make her way to the hidden passage across the balcony it could lead her to freedom. She had just emerged from her hiding place when she heard the trudge of boots on stone and froze again.

“
Looks clear. Klast, you take that side and I will check this one.”

The words drifted up to where Marja stood rooted to the floor. Heart pounding, she found her feet and quickly shrank back into her corner. Here they come, she thought. I waited too long.

Marja made herself as small as she could as she listened to the man climb the stairs and check the room beside hers. Then his steps became louder as he entered her chamber. She held her breath as the steps went silent for a moment, then resumed in the direction of her privy. Her eyes went to the dagger still clenched in white-knuckled fingers. She could not have pried her hand open even if she had wanted to. Her fingers seemed welded shut. Do I have the courage to do it? I must! I will not let them use me. I cannot.

Suddenly, the door swung out and he stood before her.

Marja froze and caught a look of surprise crossing the soldier’s face as he halted. She took in his air of authority, his broad shoulders and the wavy, straw-coloured hair, now lank with sweat and tied out of the way. He wore well-cut breeches, a tunic in the blue and yellow of Bargia, now stained with blood, and he carried a fine sword. Marja recognized her assailant. Here stood the son of Lord Bargest, the spawn of the enemy who had brought this upon them.

He raised his sword for the killing blow. It felt like she watched from a distance, the motion slow and dreamlike, as if time had stopped. He halted, arm in midair, seeming to assess the woman before him.

What did he see, she wondered? Could he see her determination, her terror? Could he see past the dirt and smoke to her expensive clothing, the heavy gold chain still about her throat, the jewelled earrings and the hands unused to rough work? Would he understand that she was someone of rank? Would her russet hair tell him he beheld someone from Cataniast’s family? Would it make any difference?

Slowly, he lowered his sword’s point to the ground. Time resumed its normal pace. His face showed no signs of battle frenzy, but his eyes remained alert, and she knew he would not hesitate to use the sword if he needed to. Marja remained crouched, unwavering, dagger ready, defiance now faltering as confusion pierced her mental armour.

“
I am Lord Gaelen of Bargia.” He spoke formally, but she did not miss the weariness in his face and tone. “There is no point in resisting. My army has defeated you, and this demesne is now mine. Give me the knife. I will offer you my protection, at least until I decide how to proceed with the governance of this land. You will not be harmed. Surrender your weapon. Enough have died today.”

This could not be true. He could not let her live. Marja smelled deception. “A daughter of the House of Cataniast will not be allowed to live!” she spat back. “You cannot take that risk. My people will rally behind me and continue to fight.” Marja remained where she stood, knife just below her left breast, poised for the killing thrust. “I will not be taken to be used as a gaming piece and disposed of later.”

She watched Gaelen raise one eyebrow slightly at her declaration. Then he rubbed his free hand across his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Lady, you mistake me for someone without honour. I have given my word that you will not be harmed, and I am a man of my word. Surrender your weapon.” He hesitated. “I cannot assure you will not be injured if you force me to take it from you. But I have seen enough blood today and have no wish to spill yours. We will speak later on your fate. Unlike your lord father, I am not a man who acts in haste.”

Marja did not miss the fleeting expression of anger at his mention of her father.

When she did not move, he added, “I gain nothing from spilling more blood. I swear, you and your people will be treated justly. Now give me the knife.”

Something in his weary tone and the unwavering stance, feet planted apart, broke through Marja’s defiance. What had he said? Honour? Justice? Her people? Could she trust him even so far? Could she yet effect some good for her people? A small flicker of hope ignited. With it, the iron will that had sustained her crumbled. Her arm lowered, and the dagger fell out of her hand to the floor.