The spiral towers of Highhaven Hall looked down upon the entire kingdom. From the Moon Tower you could see all way to Coalfell in the mountains to the north, and down to Hartlepool by the sea. I used to spend hours sitting on the sill of the window, my book forgotten, just staring out over the world I knew.
My name is Caitlynn Valarmeyer, daughter of King Aynard Valarmeyer and the Royal Consort Kaffrene. I was the fifth child of my house, and the priests of Veluthe claim that on the night I was born there was a shower of falling stars, and a tanzanite comet lit up the heavens. I grew up surrounded by talk of my destiny, and it’s no wonder I believed in it so strongly.
Faith was an important part of life in the Four Towns. My people worshipped the Great Gods, who provided for us all and kept balance in the land.
In Hartlepool, by the sea, they honored Matdarr, the God of Water. Hartlepool was built around a natural harbour, and the buildings were constructed from a beautiful coral, with roofs painted the color of azurite. The people there were spirited and carefree, spending their days out on their boats harvesting the gifts of the sea. The folk of Hartlepool were dark of skin, and their hair was bleached sandy by the sun as they spent nearly all their lives outdoors. When I was a girl, I loved going down for the Tide Festivals. I would dance barefoot all night through the sandstone streets, enjoying the treats of fishcakes and lemon lobster. I was loved by the people there; I their precious princess, and I was always welcomed with such joy. I would dance with my friend Jaspere, the son of the Watchlord of Hartlepool. When I was sixteen and had just completed my Vows of Knighthood, he and I snuck off during one of the festivals, to a secret place hidden by the Old Wall. There I shared my first kiss with him, and he pledged to me, and recited a song he wrote about my beauty and his love for me. My heart was filled with joy, but later that month his father drowned. The people of Hartlepool took this as an omen, a sign from Matdarr that the House of Klynegall was unworthy. The elders elected not to pass the lordship to Jaspere, but instead to another family who’d had an extraordinary bountiful harvest that year. My dear friend was filled with shame, and he never sought me out again. When I could not find him at the next Tide Festivals, my heart was broken and I stopped attending them.
My third-eldest brother, Wyllem, was dedicated to Matdarr in Hartlepool. All children are dedicated to one of the Gods when we turn twelve years old. Wyllem loved to play tricks as a boy, and my father sent him to be trained at the Temple of the Sea, to learn the arts of watershaping, and my brother proved very adept. He was a master at water illusion, and he took great pleasure playing jokes on us all.
It was during the Hot Summer, when I was seven, that Wyllem nearly killed me with one of his tricks. Children from all over the Four Towns came down to Hartlepool, to cool off in the sea. As the summer dragged on, the waters felt warmer and warmer, and we found less and less relief. That was when Wyllem showed off his skills for us, how he could make water take whatever shape he chose, and how he could cool it down. The children loved playing with his dancing figures, and would jump through them with shrieks of laughter as they escaped the scorching heat for a moment.
I was reluctant to take my turn. Something deep inside of me felt wrong, and I could swear I saw shadow flitting across Wyllem’s face.
“Come on little sister,” he sneered as he taunted me, “surely you’re not the only one who’s afraid of a little water?” He and the others laughed at me, and giving in to my fear of ridicule I jumped in with the others.
Wyllem chose a monstrous shape for me, like something I’d seen once in a forgotten nightmare. A shadow and a grin fell across his face as I jumped through, and he instantly froze the water shape into ice, trapping me inside.
Panic raced through my heart as I struggled to breathe. I could not close my eyes, and I saw the children running and screaming back up to the town. I was sure that I would drown and be part of that block of ice forever, but somehow, I survived long enough for the Water Shapers to come and thaw me out. I immediately slipped into a sleep from which I could not be woken, and I remembered no more.
During my sleep was the first time the dreams came to me.
I saw a shape of light, either it was formless or it was simply too radiant for me to distinguish its features. I saw what appeared to be wings of light spreading out from either side, and it spoke to me in a matronly voice, that was more beautiful than anything else I had ever heard.
“Fear not, my child. For you are mine, and I am with you.”
“I don’t understand,” I called out to the shape, my voice sounding weak and childish.
The being of light rushed towards me, and passed through me. I saw myself running from a castle, and then wandering through a strange land without a sun. Then I saw that I was flying through the clouds, a sword in my hand that glowed brighter than a star. A monster flew through the sky, a creature black as shadow, with flames coming from its eyes, reaving and wrecking destruction upon the world. I saw myself fly towards it, my sword slashing through its shadowy neck, and its fires dim and vanish as a song of joy could be heard ringing out from far below.
“You will pass through darkness and shadow, and will feel that all the world is lost to you. But never forget that I will always be waiting,” I heard the voice saying to me, as a great warmth rushed through me.
When I awoke from my sleep after a fortnight, the first thing I felt was the incredible warmth through every part of my body. And I remembered the dream, and the light, and the voice. I dreamed of it often when I would sleep, and my faith in my destiny grew every year.
While I was sleeping, my eldest brother Henri found out what Wyllem had done, and he was furious. Henri nearly killed him, or so Tomass later told me. When Father heard the whole story, he was so enraged that he banished Wyllem from Highhaven, and my brother went to live in a cave by the sea, practicing his magic and nursing his jealousy.
My mother’s brother, Ehrberht, was Watchlord of Coalfell. He stood nearly seven feet tall, and some claimed my mother’s line just have giant’s blood in them. My uncle was a stern man, but he loved my mother and father dearly, and he showed a special favoritism to me. The people of Coalfell worshipped Noorr, the God of Fire, and war. The people there were short and sturdy of stature, and more than half the town was built right into the mountain. Any invaders to our lands would have to pass by the town’s defenses, and the people took great pride in being the first line of protection for our kingdom, and thus they had a warlike and industrious nature. You could often see smoke billowing from the towers along the mountain, for it seemed the Forges of Fire never rested. I remember the day that Father took me deep into the foundries, to meet with my uncle. I was ten years old, and not yet Pledged, and I wondered what my father intended for me. We passed through the Deep Streets, and the houses built from basalt stone with their ruby parapets. We came to my uncle’s temple, and he presented a sword to my father. My uncle’s people had found an unusual metal deep in the mountain, that glinted with the same tanzanite color of the supposed comet that cross the heavens on the night of my birth. None of the smiths of Coalfell could work the metal, not even my uncle. He brought priests from all four of the temples, but not until the High Priest of Veluthe came was their magic sufficient to alter the metal. They folded it into a sword, and gilded it with silver, and set an amethyst into the hilt. My father chose to give this sword as a gift to me, and he named it Shadow’s Bane. When I held the sword, which was incredibly light of weight, a flame of white seemed to come off from it, lighting every corner of the foundry we were in. Even when I wasn’t holding the sword, or when it wasn’t flaring, a faint purple light emanated from it. Father told me then that I was to train with my uncle, as a Knight. I was in both awe and shock, and I asked him if I was being dedicated to Noorr, to which he told me no.
My brother Rolynd had been given to Noorr a couple years earlier. He was my second eldest brother, and was famous throughout the Four Towns for his temper, and he was always challenging people to fights. When we were younger, he would enjoy pinning and restraining me, until I got a little older and began to fight back. The first time I knocked Rolynd to the floor, Henri laughed so hard and Rolynd’s face became so red that I thought it must catch fire. My brother would continue trying to wrestle me, but would always lose, and eventually he gave up and started fighting with the younger children instead.
Father felt his spirit belonged to Noorr without question, and sent him to train in the martial and shadow arts when he turned twelve, as is custom. But my brother was not cutout for knighthood; his temper was too hot, and his sense of honor was too weak. He was a bully who preferred to prey on the disadvantaged rather than protect them. But he excelled in the shadow arts at the temple, and used them much as Wyllem used his, only with much more widespread cruelty. Rolynd was furious when Fater had me begin training as a Knight, imagining that I was taking his rightful place.
During the Long Summer, when I was fourteen, the Orks from Glendonshire had come at the invite of my father. They built their camp in the foothills around Coalfell, for they were a warlike people and loved the hills. Their warriors loved to spar with the squires, and I enjoyed practicing with the noble soldiers, learning some things of their combat arts.
Rolynd made fast friends with Rayvar, their chieftain's son, and the two of them enjoyed ganging up on the younger squires and orks. Fury burned within my heart, after a particular incident where Rolynd and his friend laughed at a small orkling they left beaten and crying.
I once again felt that presence of darkness, as I did all those years ago with Wyllem. But I didn’t sense it coming from the ork, but rather from my own brother.
Though he kept his grin, the smile left Rolynd’s eyes when he saw me. “Hey look, Rayvar,” he shouted to his friend, “have you ever seen such a scrawny squire? You think this one’d be used for bait practice back in Glendonshire?”
“Har,” Rayvar snorted, “maybe for the foundlings!” he laughed as he lunged towards me, swinging his club over his head without warning.
I raised my shield barely in time to block his blow, which sent pain shooting up through my left arm from the impact. Without thinking, I quickly spun around behind him, and struck my sparring sword against the back of his knee.
He momentarily fell to the ground as Rolynd charged at me, his own practice blade drawn and held out for attack. I looked towards him, and could feel my anger burning inside of me, as my brother suddenly stopped short. I don’t know what he saw upon my countenance, but his eyes grew wide in such horror that I had never seen on a person before. He dropped his sword, and began backing away, as his friend returned to his feet and swept his weapon at me.
I dropped to the ground just a moment before his blow would’ve struck me in the side, and I hooked my blade under the ork’s leg and swept it up, toppling him to his back. Before he could get up, I sprang to my feet and began unleashing my full anger upon his raised club, until it fell from his hand and he began to block my blows with his arm. A sickening crack sounded, and his arm hung at an odd angle, broken. He screamed like I’d never heard in my life, as he crawled on one hand and stumbled off toward his camp.
When I turned back, Rolynd was gone, and he made sure to avoid my presence wherever I went from then on out.
One of my favorite towns to visit was Gilramore, built along the Citrine Cliffs on the opposite side of the valley from Coalfell. The rocks of the cliffs were full of the gems, and they gave the entire wall of stone a look of shimmering golden beauty. The buildings were all supported from above and below, and secured deep into the cliffside, and were joined by the Golden Walkway. The air smelled different up there, and I would swing for hours with my youngest brother Tomass whenever Mother would take us for a visit. The people of Gilramore were tall and lithe, with steely blue eyes and silver hair. Here they venerated Chanos, the God of Air, who loved reflection and learning. It was on these cliffs that the Collegium was built, and all the finest thinkers of the kingdom went there to study, and keep the libraries of my people’s collected knowledge. Tomass had always loved books as far as I could remember, and while the rest of us would play he would sit off to the side with his face buried in the pages. He’d try to get me to read the stories he loved, but I simply lacked the patience for them, and I’d often lay them down as I’d sit on the windowsill of the Moon Tower, looking out over the world I knew and daydreaming. Tomas would visit me often in the tower, and he’d love to talk to me about what was in his books, and I loved him deeply for he was dear to my heart. Tomass eventually was pledged to Chanos, and although he was sad to leave his home, he loved his opportunity to study amongst the great intellectuals, and to spend his days in the libraries.
But years before he was pledged, he and I would come with Mother, who was often sickly, and enjoyed the medicines and healing air of the cliffside town. We had a friend there, a young boy named Mykal, who was my age and just slightly younger than Tomass. I will never forget how he and my brother looked at each other, and I knew there was something particularly special growing between them. I was so happy for Tomass.
One fall, when I was eleven and close to being pledged, and Mother was feeling very sick, I came with her for several months. I had been writing to Tomass for weeks before the visit, and he writing back, for both of us were excited to see each other again. He was so proud of his studies, and he spoke so much of his growing relationship with Mykal.
We were forced to spend much of our time inside that fall, due to the heavy storms which made the Golden Walkway unsafe and uncomfortable. One especially sunny day, the three of us just couldn’t stay in any more, and I was growing a bit restless of feeling like a third wheel as Tomass and Mykal couldn’t seem to keep away from each other.
The boys weren’t as keen to get out as I was, but I insisted and lead them to the end of the walkway, across the old rope bridge and into a cave we hadn’t visited in so many years. It was so beautiful in there, and the echoing through the caves sounded so magical.
We’d had our fill of spelunking, and went to head back, when we saw there must have been a storm outside, and the old rope bridge had been torn away. Mykal gasped in fear, and I could hear the panic in his breath.
“Well it’s not too far at all, just a few feet!” I shouted confidently. I ran, and leapt, and easily made it to the other side where I landed gracefully. “Come on Tomass and Mykal, it’s not much. I’ll be here to catch you!”
Tomass looked reassured, and though he hesitated for a moment, he also ran and jumped. He made the distance without difficulty, but he nearly stumbled upon landing. I was there to catch him, and he laughed a little as he steadied himself.
“Come on Mykal, we know you can do it!” both my brother and I shouted. But Mykal didn’t look so sure. The fear in his eyes was palpable, and I should have known he wasn’t up for it. Tomass and I could have gone to get someone to help, but we were young and impatient, and so we continued calling him on.
Mykal ran to jump, but his balance was off. He mis stepped, and instead of leaping he dove. He fell far, and looking over the ledge we saw him bounce off the rocky walls of the cliff, his blood splattering as he tumbled and broke to pieces.
Tomass immediately threw up, and my own heart fell into my stomach. My brother began to wail, and it took several long minutes before I could pull him to his feet and lead him back.
No one blamed either of us for what had happened: it was ruled an accident. Mykal’s parts were gathered and buried, and the masons replaced the old bridge with a proper sturdy extension of the walkway. But as mother recovered, Tomass retreated into his library, and we barely spoke. He did not express any anger towards me, though I knew I deserved it, but grief had overcome him. There was nothing I could do to rouse him.
After Mother and I went home, Tomass no longer replied to my letters. I went with Mother for one more visit, but when the atmosphere remained its same somber gloom, I no longer felt a desire to return on future trips to Gilramore.
My eldest brother, Henri, spent much of his time down in Woodhurst even long before he was pledged to Ronir, the God of Earth. Woodhurst was the breadbasket of our kingdom, and almost everything imaginable would be grown there. Henri loved everything that grew, and he kept the arboretum up at Highhaven, much to Mother’s chagrin. He would stomp through the halls covered in mud, and would laugh whenever the servants scolded him. Henri was the largest of my siblings, and not only because he was eldest, but he grew fast and broad. His hands were the size of plates, but I remember his gentleness when he would embrace me, or hold my hand as we’d go walking through the treetop houses of Woodhurst. Like Ronir, Henri was humble but strong, and he stood firm like a mountain while Rolynd’s hot flame would burn out quickly. Henri loved me, and he took special care to protect me. The people of Woodhurst had a ruddy complexion, with mousy hair and would often walk with a bit of a stoop, earned from their hard labor. But they were a happy people, full of simple joys, and took a quiet pride in the work they performed. Life down here was relaxed, and food was bountiful. During warm months, it was customary not to wear shoes in the valley, so you could connect directly to Ronir’s gift of earth. I enjoyed those summer weeks I spent there, feeling the dirt beneath my toes and the love of the Earth God, reflected in his wonderful people. Henri had often encouraged me to work with him, but I lacked the patience for the slow work of growing plants, and the labor bored me greatly.
It was in the last weeks of the Long Summer when I stayed in Woodhurst with my brother. I wept a lot, as he was packing up his belongings and sorting his affairs.
“I don’t want you to go,” I said to him while choking on my tears.
“Dear sister,” he spoke to me in his usual warm, paternal tone, “you know I must. Father has just finished negotiating his alliance with the Orks, and I was promised to High Chief Larak’s daughter. I will have to go, to be her Consort, and raise her children.”
“But why do you have to leave now? You won’t be getting married until she inherits her throne.”
Henri laughed pleasantly, “Oh sister, you saw to that yourself, didn’t you? Chief Larak was rather upset with what you did to his son, and felt humiliated. Oh, don’t look at me like that, you know very well the Orks are fully aware Rayvar started it, and it wasn’t even a fair match from his part, but the Orks don’t like seeing their princelings lose.”
I felt ashamed by my actions, I shouldn’t have been so angry at the Ork. He didn’t know the history with my brother, and even being a bully Rayvar didn’t deserve to have his pride wounded so badly.
Truth was, I knew how important this alliance was for my people. With the orks on our side, we’d be virtually impervious to any foreign invasion, as anyone trying to attack my kingdom would need to first pass by Glendonshire, and our knights fighting alongside the orkish wizards would be nearly unstoppable. We fought so many wars against the orks before, the idea of lasting peace was truly a dream to behold.
“But how can you leave if you’re Father’s heir?” I asked my brother earnestly.
He looked at me, and smiled. “I believe Father has other plans for the inheritance of his kingdom, dear sister.” He gazed knowingly at me for a long moment, before he turned his eyes and began frowning sadly. “My fear is that in Glendonshire, the orks live on an all-meat diet. I don’t know if anything will even grow in those hills. The only thing I believe I’ll miss nearly as much as you, sweet Cait, is my beloved valley.”
He walked over to his study, and pulled out a small box from a drawer. “I want you to have this,” he said to me quietly. “I sent it over to my friend Jaykob at Coalfell to have it sized for you. I know Father will want you to have this.” He handed me the box, and I opened it and looked inside. There was my brother’s signet ring, the symbol of our family’s authority. The ring bore the crest of our family: a dark amethyst stone set into the metal, and over the stone was the shape of a carved white unicorn made of marble. I looked up into his eyes, which were both happy and sad at the same time, and could not find words. I ran forward and wrapped my arms around his waist, squeezing my brother as tightly as I could.
He and I discussed other small things as he finished up, and as I later watched him ride away with the orks, my eyes ran with tears until my heart felt like it completely dried up in my chest.
Each of my brothers had been pledged to one of the Gods. Henri, to Ronir for his humble dependability and love of pure work. Rolynd went to Noorr, for his fiery spirit and recklessness. Wyllem, to Matdarr, the God of tricks and change. My dear Tomass was pledged to Chanos, who kept his wits above the common affairs and looked instead to the possibilities of what could be.
It was not common for a family in the Four Towns to have five children, for it was considered best to dedicate one child to each of the primary Gods. Even when a family did have more than four children, they were more likely to promise two children to one of the Gods than to dare pledge to Veluthe.
Long ago, there was no king, and each of the Four Towns ruled themselves. Each was fully dedicated to their Patron God, and each fought with the others, believing their way was best. Sometimes one town would conquer and enslave another, trying to bend their faith, but it never worked. The Gods protected their own, and only foolish tyrants tested their wrath.
But the wars were bloody and destructive, and much was lost. One generation saw four would-be conquerors, all arising in each of the towns simultaneously, all thinking they could unite the land under a single rule, a single God. The wars which followed were known as the Decade of Death, as more than half the population was lost to bloodshed. Rumours spread of a darkness moving about the land, feeding upon the chaos and destruction. I long believed this was a metaphor to explain the pain and suffering people had felt.
It was at this time that Veluthe came from Heaven. The other Gods bowed before her in submission. The Four Chiefs were struck down by their own patron deities, and their armies melted away to their homes. When the people saw how their Gods knelt before Veluthe, they took her up as Queen of their pantheon. It was then that my ancestors stepped forward, and were anointed by Veluthe to unite the tribes, and to see to lasting peace of the peoples. That was when my line was formed, and they took the visage of Veluthe as their emblem: the white unicorn, shining with pure light.
One child in a generation is pledged to the Queen of the Gods. I was such a child. The priests insisted on it, for they believed my birth was prophesized. I was glad at least, for the Cathedral was at Highhaven, and thus I would not need to leave home and commit myself to one of the Towns.
I was twelve years old the day I was pledged. My Father and Mother took me to the Cathedral wearing nothing but a white shift. I was blessed by the High Priest, and christened with the elements of the four lesser Gods, as was tradition of old. Finally, I was blessed with the Light of Veluthe.
If I had not already been on my knees, I would’ve fallen to the floor. My vision went dark, and I lost consciousness. In my mind I saw a dark shape, a shadow blacker than any night, with eyes of blazing fire that changed from red to yellow to green to blue, and then to black. This monster prowled through the mountains, through the forests, over the waters, and even amongst the clouds. Animals fled from it and devoured themselves. I could feel pain, and anguish, and other things I could not name. All the while the monster laughed, and reveled in the misery of the world.
I told no one of my dream. My vows were complete, and I was now in the service of Veluthe. My father also had me trained as a knight, so instead of being a priest of the cathedral, I became a Knight Paladin, my kingdom’s first in over a century. At the age of sixteen I swore my sacred oaths, and received my sword Shadow’s Bane, and began my time of service.
When I was eighteen, the Troll-men of Yorglemont waged ware upon Glendonshire. They had raided and destroyed several villages, carrying off slaves and leaving the dead to rot unburied. I lead my knights to my brother’s aid, and at the Battle of the Iron Fells I slew the Troll champion myself. Their armies scattered, and we pursued them into their own lands until they surrendered completely, and all the orkish captives were freed.
I returned home in glorious victory, and was hailed as a hero. I soaked up the praise like wine, and thoroughly enjoyed the love of my people.
The night after I returned to Highhaven, my father held a feast in my honour. We celebrated long into the darkest hours, and I was inebriated as I headed up to my bed, the last person to leave the great hall.
The towers were oddly dark. No servants crept through the hallways; no torches flickered in their brackets. I could always see well in the dark, but there was something heavier hanging over the castle tonight.
I felt something was wrong, that sense of evil flared up in my chest once again. I drew Shadow’s Bane from my side, but its light could not penetrate the veil before me. I entered the solar in the high quarters, and the darkness here was nearly complete. Suddenly, from somewhere in the room, I heard the cackling laughter I once heard in my dream. My heart froze. But I held Shadow’s Bane, and I knew I had a divine purpose, and I told myself that this was it.
“Face me, demon!” I yelled into the room, as I lunched forward blindly, swinging my sword in all directions. The laughter continued, and was driving me to madness. Eventually my blade found purchase, I could feel it cutting through flesh and bone.
At that moment, the laughter grew even louder and more sinister, and the darkness began to leave through an open window. As light returned to the room, I saw my father l lying upon the floor, nearly cloven in two. Terror gripped me, and I looked down at my sword and saw his blood streaming over my blade. I knelt beside my father, who looked into my eyes with his full of deep sadness, as he passed his last breath.
Panic took me before grief. I ran from the castle, jumped upon my horse, and fled. I rode for days, fleeing before any news could reach the outer towns. I did not know why I ran: surely it was an accident. Still, I had killed my father. I could not face my mother, or any of my brothers. I could not face the priests at the temple, or my knights who had just celebrated my great triumph. I crossed the border of Glendonshire, and kept going.
After two weeks of little rest, my horse died from exhaustion, in a land I did not know. As I sat beside the fallen body of my trusted steed, grief for my father finally took me. At long last, I started to pull myself together, and tried to assess my situation. I had very few possessions: the sword by my side, and a small bag of gold on my saddle. I had grabbed a pack bag from the stables that had a few supplies, but not enough to sustain me for long. I looked down at my hand, and saw with shame the signet ring that Henri had given me. I took it off, and shoved it deep into my bag.
I began wandering. I found small villages, filled with strange people, but many needed some form of help. I earned coin by fighting raiders, rescuing captives from slavers, and driving off brigands. Often, I would find myself fighting three or four men at once, but when my just fury burned none of them could withstand me. Many fled just at the sight of my eyes. I earned a reputation amongst the outlanders, and quickly earned their love.
I can still see my father’s blood on the blade of my sword. I keep hoping that one more righteous deed will wash away the stain of my sin. I hope one day I am worthy of my family’s ring and honour once again.
I am Caitlynn Valarmeyer: errant knight, wayward princess, lost acolyte, forgotten sister, and unworthy daughter. One day, somewhere and somehow, I will find redemption. And when I do, I will return and see my home again.
