Book preview:
Chapter 1
It was a dark,dreary,day. Dark clouds hung over head. The day was appropriate for the occasion however. Carlac Herolan, father of the Herolan family, had died the previous week. No one knows how.
Almost no one.
Rowin knew, he was Carlac`s oldest companion. After investigators had found nothing, he examined the crime scene himself. After carefully examining the cup Carlac had used, he noticed it smelled slightly of niferen. A deadly poison found only in certain parts of the country of Kalieser.
And now Rowin was waiting for Eliza. So he could take her to a cabin after the funeral and tell her.
He wasn't attending the funeral. He knew Marthisa, Carlac`s wife, would never let him. She had never liked Rowin and always got angry whenever Carlac had Rowin over for a drink or let him stay the night.
Carlac`s three daughters, Eliza, Asara, and Thesa, slid off their horses and walked to where their mother, Marthisa, was standing.
"Come." she said. And ushered her daughters to where the coffin was. The girls placed perfect, red, beautiful roses on the coffin and stood back. Eliza stepped away from her sisters and mother slightly, almost at the head of the coffin.
Such beautiful roses, and even a beautiful coffin, for such a sad, terrible event. Why? Eliza thought.
Her father was, besides Rowin, the person she had been closest too. He wasn’t only her father, he was her best friend. Her only friend.
Eliza never made any real friends. Really only leaving their cabin in the wood`s to go to town to get food,fabric, and other neccesities. And to go hunting, of course.
So she had a few acquaintance's, but no close friends.
Carlac had taught Eliza how to hunt when she was 12. How to look for the smallest animal signs, where to shoot different animals, and skinning and cleaning. Hunting had been one of Eliza's favorite things to do with her father.
Her mother and younger sisters found it inadequate for a young woman to be doing. Especially Thesa, who was 15. She did very lady-like things. Needlepoint, cooking, going to social events, worrying about hair and how she dressed. When Eliza saw her sister she always seemed to be brushing her hair, sewing, doing and redoing her makeup. Eliza used to ask what the point of all this was.
"Well, if one want's to be beautiful, one must spend time making one beautiful." Thesa would say.
Thesa had spent almost two hours getting ready for the funneral. Constantly readjusting her makeup and redoing her hair. She had messed around with her dress for at least a half hour. Adjusting the tight lace sleeves so there were no wrinkles, re-tying the bow at least five times, and re-lacing her shaw constantly. She had also spent a while trying to figure out which necklace to wear. Satisfied only when her mother gave her a string of pearls.
Thesa always trying to be polite as possible and always smile when she talked. Contrary to Eliza's quiet, grim, stubborn, occasionally sarcastic manner. She used to pull Eliza away from people to remind her;
"Try to smile when you talk Eliza. Lady's don't frown or make sarcastic comments. It's rude and unamiable." she would scold. She still occasionally do this, but for the most part had given up trying to remind her sister how to behave.
Eliza didn't really mind her sisters scolding. As for the activities, she found them pointless. She saw no need for makeup, didn't understand the fuss about hair, and she thought needlepoint was a waste of time for the most part.
Of course, she knew a little bit of sewing. So much if something of her's ripped she could patch it up. But she saw no point in messing with her hair. And she considered dresses to be unpractical. She had no wish to trip on a long skirt.
She had worn a long dress to a party once, and as she decended down the stairs she had tripped on the hem. there had been another flight of stairs and she went tumbling down to the bottom. Ripping off the ribbion that was along the hem. Her Mother had called it;
"Her litteral fall from grace."
Besides special event`s, Eliza always wore brown trousers, a forest green shirt, a hunting vest, and boots made of untanned leather. Ideal for walking around silently in the woods.
She remebered when her Father had given her her first lesson on silent movment. She had stepped on sticks several times, scaring off game.
"Try to feel around for sticks before you put your weight on your foot. If you feel any, move them with the toe of your boot."
She also remebered falling on her backside, into a mudpuddle. Her father had laughed for at least a minute. She had been embarassed at the time, now she smiled inwardly at the thought.
Asara, who was 12, wasn`t as ladylike as Thesa or her mother, but not quite as tomboy as Eliza. With the exception of today she always wore her simple red dress, or her blue one for social events.
She had a short temper and sometimes said things she didn't mean. But always appologized later.
Eliza recalled a time her sister had held a rather pointless grudge.
Fina, one of Asara's old friends, had ripped Asara's dress. It had been a dark blue callio dress Asara had spent weeks working on. They had been playing in a forest when her friend jumped over a log, Asara had tried to fullow suit but her dress had been caught on a branch protuding from the log. It had ripped her dress and caused her to fall. She instantly blamed it on Fina, even though common sense told her she had nothing to do with it. Her mother had tried to tell her the dress could be fixed and it wasn't Fina's fault. But Asara didn't talk to Fina for nearly a week after that. But then she realized it was her in the wrong and had appologized by collecting wild flowers for fina and inviting her to dinner.
Eliza looked aroround quickly. Moving her eyes only so there was no sign of it. Thesa was gently dabbing her eyes, her mother's posture was so rigid it was a if someone had replaced her spine with a rod. And Asara had her head down, but wasn't crying.
Eliza`s face could hardly be seen through the veil she wore, but her expression was grim. She remembered her mother scolding her for wearing the veil,
"Why hide your face? Put that veil away!" she had said. And despite her mother’s very lady like opinions, she hated veils. Saying there’s no reason for girls to hide their faces, funeral or not. Besides the Herolans, there were about 20 or 30 other people at the funeral. Eliza didn’t recognize any of them. She wondered why on earth they were at her father’s funeral. She looked at the preacher.
"Today, we celebrate the death of Carlac Hrolan." The preacher started.
Celebrate? Celebrate indeed! I don’t see how my father’s death is anything to celebrate!
Eliza thought angrily. Wishing she could punch the preacher. A thought her mother never would have approved of.
The preacher continued, but Eliza didn't pay any attention. She stared into space, and ignored what everyone else was saying or doing.
Once the ceremony was over, Eliza stepped away from the coffin. And started walking toward her horse.
"Eliza." a deep voice called from her right. She turned, someone stood by a tree. She thought it was Rowin, but it was hard to tell with the heavy brown cloak he wore with the cowl that hid a face in it’s shadows.
"Rowin?" she asked. Squinting.
"Yes, come with me. It`s important." Rowin said quietly.
"But..."
"Come."
Eliza got her horse and followed Rowin to a gate.
He untied his own bay horse and mounted. Opened the gates and led Eliza through. Then into the woods. It was a silent ride.
The woods were even darker then the clouds. The branches seemed to be trying to grab them. Eliza had no idea where they were going. But half an hour later, she found out.
They were approaching a cabin. Rowin dismounted and tied his horse to a post. Eliza followed. He ushered her into the cabin, bolting the door behind him.
Eliza looked around the room.
There was a fire place in the right corner. A stack or wood next to it. On the left was a doorway that probably led to a kitchen. A small table under the window that faced the front. And cabinets and along the right wall. With another small table under them which had a water clock on it. It was cozy and fairly clean, but could use a good dusting.
"I feel as if I`ve been here before." Eliza said.
Rowin approached the fire place and started a small fire. He placed one more log in and stood up. And threw back his cowl.
Rowin's face was slightly square with a strong jaw, which had a small scar on it. His eyes where a dark brown. His nose was a little large and slightly crooked, after a unarmed fight with a Cerestil soldier. His dark brown hair was messy and somewhat unkempt. He was about average height,but was better muscled then most men. The result of years of battle's and hard work.
He turned to Eliza.
"You have. Your father brought you here when you were when you were three. Then locked it up. I have been coming here lately though."
Eliza took off the black hat and veil she had been wearing. She had a diamond shaped face with high prominent cheekbones. Her eyes where a piercing icy-blue with perfectly shaped brows over them. Her lips were somewhat thinner then most girls. Her hair was a light blond and fell a little past her shoulders. She was well muscled for a girl. The result of years of excersice. And had long legs, allowing her to run faster through the woods.
"I have found out....How your Father was killed." Rowin told her quietly. "He was murdered."
"I....I thought....That...." Eliza replied, her voice broke. Tears ran down her cheeks.
"There there child." Rowin wiped her eyes, pulling her to her into his embrace. "I told you that’s what I thought happened."
"I...I know. But to hear it....a terrible truth, it just...." she sobbed on his shoulder. Her cheek rubbing on the rough fabric of his cloak. She didn’t even bother asking how Rowin knew he was killed. Or how, as the investigators hadn’t found anything as far as she knew.
"I know my dear. Here." he broke from her embrace. He dabbed her cheeks with a square of soft cloth from one of his pockets.
"I have something for you." He walked toward a cabinet. Opened it. and pulled out a box with a lock.
"Being the oldest, you have been assigned to protect this." he ran his hand over the box. "It was your fathers before, then, before the war, he gave it to me to hide. I knew that I must keep it from falling into the wrong hands. Must make sure that it has a good guardian."
Rowin slowly opened the lid. And pulled out a dagger. It was beautiful. A white handle. With gold designs on it,and a slightly curved blade with writing engraved.
"What is it?"
"It’s a very special dagger. The dagger of Athalon Corsec. It has great power...You do remember who Athalon Corsec is, don’t you?"
(Some of the book has been removed from the preview)
"Wow." Eliza said quietly. In shock.
"Do you accept the challenge? Will you guard the dagger at all costs?" Rowin asked.
"At all costs? Rowin, i’m not sure..."
"I know you will be up to the challenge Eliza. Your strong, good,honest, and brave."
"Um..."
Rowin looked at her with his steady,unwavering gaze. She saw in those deep, dark eyes, he believed she was the right choice. He was confident in her. She knew, that in some way, if she didn't accept, she would be letting Rowin down. She would be showing him that she wasn't as confident, or capable, as he thought. It was this thought, that she knew her answer.
"I...accept." Eliza sounded slightly unsure as she said the last word. Rowin didn't seem to notice.
"Here. Keep it safe." Rowin then abruptly threw his cowl up and left. Leaving Eliza staring at the dagger. Awestruck. Wondering.
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