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haebinHey, my lovelies :)
I hope you had a nice, relaxing weekend. I struggled the last days with a tough pain-flare and couldn't write BUT I still have some chapters to share, so we/you are on the safe side. ;)
Please enjoy! ♥
"Can't you watch out, you silly goose?" The older kitchen maid's voice was annoyed. She glanced angrily at Sera, who had sunk to her knees to pick up the potatos that had slipped out of her basket a moment ago.
"I'm so sorry for it," the young girl mumbled exhaustedly, picking up the vegetables scattered across the floor.
"The young thing can't even lift a basket of potatos. Too weak to carry anything? Perhaps it would be appropriate to scrub all the floors on her knees if she can't stand upright," Sera heard the older woman grumble. Her shoulders slumped and she avoided looking at the servants in the kitchen, overcome with shame.
"Perhaps she shouldn't spread her legs for our master every night," said the pretty chambermaid who now entered the kitchen, a disparaging smile on her beautifully curved lips. Sera's breath caught when she heard her words.
"Enough!" came from the cook, who pointed a cleaver threateningly in the direction of the red-haired half-elf. "Don't treat the child like that. And you, Ravin..." She glared angrily at the older maid. "... you'd best refrain from making such comments. I don't want any bickering in my kitchen!"
She put the cleaver on the table, walked over to Sera and also got down on her knees to put the potatos in the basket. She saw tears gathering in the girl's eyes and said quietly: "Leave the basket here and go into the chicken coop to clean it. You can take your time and rest there. I'll tell everyone you're busy."
Sera raised her eyes gratefully and nodded.
"You don't look well, child. Maybe you should ask the healer for advice. If you continue to be so weak and can no longer do your work, they will chase you from the castle."
"I'll try," Sera replied weakly and slowly rose to her feet. Without raising her eyes, she walked past the servants and the half-elf who glared at her and left the kitchen. The few steps to the large chicken coop made Sera pause breathlessly when she finally reached the gate. She closed her eyes, gasping for breath and feeling as if she would lose her senses at any moment.
When she opened her eyes, she was only vaguely aware of her surroundings and she staggered into the stable, hoping that no one had been watching her. Eventually Sera's legs gave way and she sank into the chicken droppings on the floor. Gasping for air, she let her head sink into her neck and closed her eyes.
For a few days now, she had been suffering from unimaginable back pain, as if something or someone was reaching into her muscles, nerves and flesh and pulling them forcefully from her bones. Every movement was so unspeakably painful that Sera could hardly think straight. An agonising fire seemed to consume her abdomen and she felt it radiating throughout her body. She was not a healer, but she knew how a fever manifested itself. When she had awoken in the morning she had put her hand on her forehead and was shocked to realise how hot her skin felt.
And she was tired, so infinitely tired. All Sera wanted to do was crawl into a dark corner, close her eyes and sleep ... sleep so that she could hear nothing, see nothing, so that no one would take any more notice of her. Especially not him, the demon in the shape of a high elf, the one with the amber-coloured eyes.
The one whose name haunted her to the darkest corners of her soul.
Last night, when she was alone in her small chamber, she had taken the rest of the willow bark tea, but it seemed to have no effect because instead of subsiding, the fever continued to rise.
Sera felt a light touch on her hand lying on the floor and slowly opened her eyelids, which felt so unbelievable heavy. A faint smile slid across her pale face as she became aware of the chick curiously nipping at her skin with its beak. Sera opened her hand and watched as the chick climbed onto her palm and settled down as if coming to rest in its nest. The warmth of the chick in her palm reminded Sera of her childhood when she and her brother had to tend the chickens, sheep or pigs. Her dog Aria had always been by her side and she missed her dearly. What she would give to be able to press her face into the warm, soft fur and forget everything around her.
She was so tired and wanted nothing more than to sleep when a thought nevertheless formed in her mind. Her master, the cook, had spoken words that might be a way to escape this hell. If she did her work more badly than well, if she behaved lazily and inattentively, she would be thrown out of the castle without hesitation. The few coins she earned would not be given to her, but she would have the opportunity to leave the castle. And Teárlach would have no way of harming her family, because she had not escaped.
A faint feeling of hope began to germinate in her heart.
She would not return to her family to avoid putting them in danger, Sera realised immediately. Perhaps it would be possible to return to the young healer? She knew from Conall that the herb woman was planning to expand the farm and devote herself more intensively to the art of healing, perhaps they would need someone to look after the animals, take care of the household or process the fish that her father brought back from his daily excursion on the sea every early evening?
Sera didn't need much, maybe one or two dried fish, a handful of porridge, she would sleep with the animals in the stable. She didn't expect to be paid with a few coins for her labour, she just longed for a safe place.
Sera tried to take a deep breath, but the pain in her back was so strong that she winced and closed her eyes.
Everything felt dark and heavy, but there was hope.
Hope for her.
*****
The night of the new moon.
The last few days before this special night had almost felt like an eternity for Teárlach as he walked through the darkness.
Only the light of the torch he carried in his left hand illuminated the unusually large crypt in which his footsteps echoed through the darkness.
He walked past numerous richly decorated coffins of all the former rulers of this land, most of them adorned with magnificent tombs.
Teárlach wore a contemptuous smile on his lips as his gaze glided through the gloomy hall.
"Nothing more than dust," he whispered coldly. "Nothing remembers you more than your names on some meaningless annals that tell of your great triumphs and conquests. If these are burnt, there will be nothing left to remind us of your existence. And all the great names of the rulers of this land will disappear into obscurity."
Teárlach had reached the end of the tomb, walked to a corner covered in cobwebs and got down on his knees.
He removed a stone from the last row and then pressed a hidden button which caused the wall to shift as if by magic, revealing a staircase that led deep into the darkness. Teárlach stepped through the entrance and closed the wall, which slid back into its previous position by pushing up a lever on the wall. Even if he didn't have a torch to hand, he would be able to find every single step leading down into the seeming nothingness in the dark. He had known the way to the secret chamber since he had wandered bored through the castle many years ago as a young high elf. Since his father had focused on teaching his older brother all the knowledge he would need as heir to the throne, Teárlach had been left to his own devices. Of course, he was also trained with numerous lessons from the monks living in the castle, but while he had already reached his level of knowledge, Trálír had to fulfil numerous other tasks day in and day out.
Nevertheless, Teárlach was also trained in the art of swordplay, he knew how to handle a bow and arrows, he could use a pike, axe and glaive. However, he was never given the chance to use them. Once there was a war with Bloodstone, which his father won in a tenday, but Teárlach was forced to stay in the castle while his father rode tall in his seat, Trálír beside him, leading the army.
What he would have given then to go to war too, to swing his sword, to overpower the enemy, to wade in their blood. Instead, he sat in his chamber like a little boy, frustrated and angry.
He was too young for the war, his father had said.
Teárlach scoffed at this memory and felt the familiar anger rise up inside him. He was only two years younger than Trálír and yet he had to stay in the castle.
Sitting in the great hall bored him to no end, as all his father's men had gone to war with him. And even if one or two of them had stayed in the castle, it was far from their minds to start a conversation with the second son, who always lived in the shadow of his older brother. He avoided the monks, who would have been perfectly willing to enrich Teárlach with their knowledge, like a vampire avoids daylight. He had amused himself once or twice with a maid and had mostly spent the rest of the day wandering bored through the castle. Lost in thought, he entered the mighty crypt, reading the names of the former rulers he knew from his history lessons with the monks. He was enjoying the silence of the crypt, the solitude in the semi-darkness, when a small mouse caught his attention. He watched as the mouse moved through the crypt in search of food, but its search was in vain, there was nothing to satisfy its hunger. Teárlach frowned as he saw the mouse crawl into the right-hand corner under what appeared to be a loose stone and squeeze through.
This was a clear sign that there was something behind the stone wall. A secret chamber perhaps? Was there gold or precious stones behind the wall, hidden from the eyes of the castle's inhabitants? Such a secret room was not uncommon in many castles. But how could it be that nobody in the Blackwater Castle could have noticed this?
He lifted himself from the coffin and walked to the corner, got down on his knees and looked at the loose stone. With his fingertips, he tried to loosen the stone, pushing it millimetres to the side, backwards or carefully forwards. It took a while before Teárlach was able to release the stone from its setting and, to his surprise, he found a small button behind it. Curious, he pressed it and looked up in surprise as the wall slid aside through an invisible mechanism, revealing a view into the black darkness.
Teárlach stood up and stepped curiously towards the opening. He recognised nothing but blackness. The air was stale.
And the fact that he could not recognise anything in the darkness surprised him, for as a high elf he was capable of darkvision what meant that he was able to see in dim light within 60 feet of him as if it were bright light. And in darkness he was able to see so far as it would be in dim light.
With some effort, however, he recognised a landing and the steps seemed to lead downwards. He quickly turned around, took one of the torches from a pillar and slowly and carefully walked down the stairs, which seemed to have no end. The walls were only a few centimetres away from Teárlach's body and someone with a wider build would not be able to walk down this narrow corridor. Teárlach lost his sense of time as he took one step after another that led him further and further down into the depths.
It won't be long now and I'll be standing right at the Gate of the Nine Hells, Teárlach thought and couldn't help but feel a sudden sense of dread. The high elf walked down the stairs for what felt like an eternity when he suddenly stood in front of a heavy door made of black wood. Unfamiliar signs were carved into the wood, a script he couldn't make out. There was no door handle and Teárlach brought the torch close to the wall, looking for another loose stone, touching it in search of something that would show him how to open the door, but he could find nothing.
Teárlach sighed, bit his lower lip thoughtfully and then, on an inner impulse, placed his right palm on the door. Suddenly, the unfamiliar signs began to glow and it was as if they were burning into his skin down to the bone, but Teárlach did not flinch for a second. Instead, he gritted his teeth, noticed the pain which felt like his skin was melting in this unbearable heat until the moment when he no longer felt the burning in his hand. And just then, the door opened for him and allowed him to enter a world that was completely unknown to him.
Surprised, he paused and raised the torch a little higher so that the light could displace the darkness, but the room was so large that the diffuse light of the torch only showed the floor in front of him and two candelabras nearby for a few steps before the rest of the room was once again hidden in darkness. One could almost call this room a scriptorium as he walked through the unknown chamber. Teárlach discovered a large table covered with several inkwells and quills, with scrolls and books. The secret room was filled with numerous cupboards, chests of drawers and shelves full of books. But Teárlach could also recognise countless potions and oils, elixirs, dried plants and herbs.
There were numerous candles and two smaller fire bowls in the room, which Teárlach lit. He looked around in amazement but couldn't recognise a trigger. But there seemed to be something, because the air was fresh and the smoke from the fire seemed to be drifting away. The more candles Teárlach lit and the more light filled the room, the more he realised what he had stumbled upon.
The monks found it difficult to talk about the things that had once happened in the long history of the Blackwater High Elves that did not conform to the image of the powerful, wise and just ruler. Names were not mentioned, but once there were two high elves who turned out to be warlocks. Their names were erased from the annals after their demise, but they continued to live in the shadows of history.
A grin appeared on Teárlach's face as he walked through the room, spotting two doors to the right and left. Interested, he skimmed the titles of the books, all of which dealt with black magic, blood magic and necromancy. There were countless essays about Avernus, the Nine Hells, the lords and demons that ruled it.
Books about the numerous monsters and beasts that populated the world of Faerun as well as about the various races and their history.
The library of Blackwater Bay was large and had many books, but it was hard to compare with the mass of books in this secret realm.
Neither gold nor gems were to be found here, but Teárlach had discovered a far greater treasure for himself. Knowledge.
Knowledge of the dark magic of Faerun.
He smiled.
And the smile was still on his shapely lips as he opened the door to his left and entered a bedchamber. The bed was richly decorated, the walls hung with the heads of various monsters such as gnolls, harpies, displacer beasts, the eye of a Beholder and even the head of a Cambion. Numerous portraits were carved into the wood of the bed frame, Faces of various demons, devils, souls burning in the hellfires of Avernus for eternity. Several diaries were stacked on top of each other on a secretary and a shelf that hung above it. Teárlach took the top book and sat down on the bed, leafing through it with interest. His interest was piqued although he was unaware that an unfamiliar presence was watching from the shadows, aware of the darkness in the high elf's heart.
I hope you had a nice, relaxing weekend. I struggled the last days with a tough pain-flare and couldn't write BUT I still have some chapters to share, so we/you are on the safe side. ;)
Please enjoy! ♥
"Can't you watch out, you silly goose?" The older kitchen maid's voice was annoyed. She glanced angrily at Sera, who had sunk to her knees to pick up the potatos that had slipped out of her basket a moment ago.
"I'm so sorry for it," the young girl mumbled exhaustedly, picking up the vegetables scattered across the floor.
"The young thing can't even lift a basket of potatos. Too weak to carry anything? Perhaps it would be appropriate to scrub all the floors on her knees if she can't stand upright," Sera heard the older woman grumble. Her shoulders slumped and she avoided looking at the servants in the kitchen, overcome with shame.
"Perhaps she shouldn't spread her legs for our master every night," said the pretty chambermaid who now entered the kitchen, a disparaging smile on her beautifully curved lips. Sera's breath caught when she heard her words.
"Enough!" came from the cook, who pointed a cleaver threateningly in the direction of the red-haired half-elf. "Don't treat the child like that. And you, Ravin..." She glared angrily at the older maid. "... you'd best refrain from making such comments. I don't want any bickering in my kitchen!"
She put the cleaver on the table, walked over to Sera and also got down on her knees to put the potatos in the basket. She saw tears gathering in the girl's eyes and said quietly: "Leave the basket here and go into the chicken coop to clean it. You can take your time and rest there. I'll tell everyone you're busy."
Sera raised her eyes gratefully and nodded.
"You don't look well, child. Maybe you should ask the healer for advice. If you continue to be so weak and can no longer do your work, they will chase you from the castle."
"I'll try," Sera replied weakly and slowly rose to her feet. Without raising her eyes, she walked past the servants and the half-elf who glared at her and left the kitchen. The few steps to the large chicken coop made Sera pause breathlessly when she finally reached the gate. She closed her eyes, gasping for breath and feeling as if she would lose her senses at any moment.
When she opened her eyes, she was only vaguely aware of her surroundings and she staggered into the stable, hoping that no one had been watching her. Eventually Sera's legs gave way and she sank into the chicken droppings on the floor. Gasping for air, she let her head sink into her neck and closed her eyes.
For a few days now, she had been suffering from unimaginable back pain, as if something or someone was reaching into her muscles, nerves and flesh and pulling them forcefully from her bones. Every movement was so unspeakably painful that Sera could hardly think straight. An agonising fire seemed to consume her abdomen and she felt it radiating throughout her body. She was not a healer, but she knew how a fever manifested itself. When she had awoken in the morning she had put her hand on her forehead and was shocked to realise how hot her skin felt.
And she was tired, so infinitely tired. All Sera wanted to do was crawl into a dark corner, close her eyes and sleep ... sleep so that she could hear nothing, see nothing, so that no one would take any more notice of her. Especially not him, the demon in the shape of a high elf, the one with the amber-coloured eyes.
The one whose name haunted her to the darkest corners of her soul.
Last night, when she was alone in her small chamber, she had taken the rest of the willow bark tea, but it seemed to have no effect because instead of subsiding, the fever continued to rise.
Sera felt a light touch on her hand lying on the floor and slowly opened her eyelids, which felt so unbelievable heavy. A faint smile slid across her pale face as she became aware of the chick curiously nipping at her skin with its beak. Sera opened her hand and watched as the chick climbed onto her palm and settled down as if coming to rest in its nest. The warmth of the chick in her palm reminded Sera of her childhood when she and her brother had to tend the chickens, sheep or pigs. Her dog Aria had always been by her side and she missed her dearly. What she would give to be able to press her face into the warm, soft fur and forget everything around her.
She was so tired and wanted nothing more than to sleep when a thought nevertheless formed in her mind. Her master, the cook, had spoken words that might be a way to escape this hell. If she did her work more badly than well, if she behaved lazily and inattentively, she would be thrown out of the castle without hesitation. The few coins she earned would not be given to her, but she would have the opportunity to leave the castle. And Teárlach would have no way of harming her family, because she had not escaped.
A faint feeling of hope began to germinate in her heart.
She would not return to her family to avoid putting them in danger, Sera realised immediately. Perhaps it would be possible to return to the young healer? She knew from Conall that the herb woman was planning to expand the farm and devote herself more intensively to the art of healing, perhaps they would need someone to look after the animals, take care of the household or process the fish that her father brought back from his daily excursion on the sea every early evening?
Sera didn't need much, maybe one or two dried fish, a handful of porridge, she would sleep with the animals in the stable. She didn't expect to be paid with a few coins for her labour, she just longed for a safe place.
Sera tried to take a deep breath, but the pain in her back was so strong that she winced and closed her eyes.
Everything felt dark and heavy, but there was hope.
Hope for her.
The night of the new moon.
The last few days before this special night had almost felt like an eternity for Teárlach as he walked through the darkness.
Only the light of the torch he carried in his left hand illuminated the unusually large crypt in which his footsteps echoed through the darkness.
He walked past numerous richly decorated coffins of all the former rulers of this land, most of them adorned with magnificent tombs.
Teárlach wore a contemptuous smile on his lips as his gaze glided through the gloomy hall.
"Nothing more than dust," he whispered coldly. "Nothing remembers you more than your names on some meaningless annals that tell of your great triumphs and conquests. If these are burnt, there will be nothing left to remind us of your existence. And all the great names of the rulers of this land will disappear into obscurity."
Teárlach had reached the end of the tomb, walked to a corner covered in cobwebs and got down on his knees.
He removed a stone from the last row and then pressed a hidden button which caused the wall to shift as if by magic, revealing a staircase that led deep into the darkness. Teárlach stepped through the entrance and closed the wall, which slid back into its previous position by pushing up a lever on the wall. Even if he didn't have a torch to hand, he would be able to find every single step leading down into the seeming nothingness in the dark. He had known the way to the secret chamber since he had wandered bored through the castle many years ago as a young high elf. Since his father had focused on teaching his older brother all the knowledge he would need as heir to the throne, Teárlach had been left to his own devices. Of course, he was also trained with numerous lessons from the monks living in the castle, but while he had already reached his level of knowledge, Trálír had to fulfil numerous other tasks day in and day out.
Nevertheless, Teárlach was also trained in the art of swordplay, he knew how to handle a bow and arrows, he could use a pike, axe and glaive. However, he was never given the chance to use them. Once there was a war with Bloodstone, which his father won in a tenday, but Teárlach was forced to stay in the castle while his father rode tall in his seat, Trálír beside him, leading the army.
What he would have given then to go to war too, to swing his sword, to overpower the enemy, to wade in their blood. Instead, he sat in his chamber like a little boy, frustrated and angry.
He was too young for the war, his father had said.
Teárlach scoffed at this memory and felt the familiar anger rise up inside him. He was only two years younger than Trálír and yet he had to stay in the castle.
Sitting in the great hall bored him to no end, as all his father's men had gone to war with him. And even if one or two of them had stayed in the castle, it was far from their minds to start a conversation with the second son, who always lived in the shadow of his older brother. He avoided the monks, who would have been perfectly willing to enrich Teárlach with their knowledge, like a vampire avoids daylight. He had amused himself once or twice with a maid and had mostly spent the rest of the day wandering bored through the castle. Lost in thought, he entered the mighty crypt, reading the names of the former rulers he knew from his history lessons with the monks. He was enjoying the silence of the crypt, the solitude in the semi-darkness, when a small mouse caught his attention. He watched as the mouse moved through the crypt in search of food, but its search was in vain, there was nothing to satisfy its hunger. Teárlach frowned as he saw the mouse crawl into the right-hand corner under what appeared to be a loose stone and squeeze through.
This was a clear sign that there was something behind the stone wall. A secret chamber perhaps? Was there gold or precious stones behind the wall, hidden from the eyes of the castle's inhabitants? Such a secret room was not uncommon in many castles. But how could it be that nobody in the Blackwater Castle could have noticed this?
He lifted himself from the coffin and walked to the corner, got down on his knees and looked at the loose stone. With his fingertips, he tried to loosen the stone, pushing it millimetres to the side, backwards or carefully forwards. It took a while before Teárlach was able to release the stone from its setting and, to his surprise, he found a small button behind it. Curious, he pressed it and looked up in surprise as the wall slid aside through an invisible mechanism, revealing a view into the black darkness.
Teárlach stood up and stepped curiously towards the opening. He recognised nothing but blackness. The air was stale.
And the fact that he could not recognise anything in the darkness surprised him, for as a high elf he was capable of darkvision what meant that he was able to see in dim light within 60 feet of him as if it were bright light. And in darkness he was able to see so far as it would be in dim light.
With some effort, however, he recognised a landing and the steps seemed to lead downwards. He quickly turned around, took one of the torches from a pillar and slowly and carefully walked down the stairs, which seemed to have no end. The walls were only a few centimetres away from Teárlach's body and someone with a wider build would not be able to walk down this narrow corridor. Teárlach lost his sense of time as he took one step after another that led him further and further down into the depths.
It won't be long now and I'll be standing right at the Gate of the Nine Hells, Teárlach thought and couldn't help but feel a sudden sense of dread. The high elf walked down the stairs for what felt like an eternity when he suddenly stood in front of a heavy door made of black wood. Unfamiliar signs were carved into the wood, a script he couldn't make out. There was no door handle and Teárlach brought the torch close to the wall, looking for another loose stone, touching it in search of something that would show him how to open the door, but he could find nothing.
Teárlach sighed, bit his lower lip thoughtfully and then, on an inner impulse, placed his right palm on the door. Suddenly, the unfamiliar signs began to glow and it was as if they were burning into his skin down to the bone, but Teárlach did not flinch for a second. Instead, he gritted his teeth, noticed the pain which felt like his skin was melting in this unbearable heat until the moment when he no longer felt the burning in his hand. And just then, the door opened for him and allowed him to enter a world that was completely unknown to him.
Surprised, he paused and raised the torch a little higher so that the light could displace the darkness, but the room was so large that the diffuse light of the torch only showed the floor in front of him and two candelabras nearby for a few steps before the rest of the room was once again hidden in darkness. One could almost call this room a scriptorium as he walked through the unknown chamber. Teárlach discovered a large table covered with several inkwells and quills, with scrolls and books. The secret room was filled with numerous cupboards, chests of drawers and shelves full of books. But Teárlach could also recognise countless potions and oils, elixirs, dried plants and herbs.
There were numerous candles and two smaller fire bowls in the room, which Teárlach lit. He looked around in amazement but couldn't recognise a trigger. But there seemed to be something, because the air was fresh and the smoke from the fire seemed to be drifting away. The more candles Teárlach lit and the more light filled the room, the more he realised what he had stumbled upon.
The monks found it difficult to talk about the things that had once happened in the long history of the Blackwater High Elves that did not conform to the image of the powerful, wise and just ruler. Names were not mentioned, but once there were two high elves who turned out to be warlocks. Their names were erased from the annals after their demise, but they continued to live in the shadows of history.
A grin appeared on Teárlach's face as he walked through the room, spotting two doors to the right and left. Interested, he skimmed the titles of the books, all of which dealt with black magic, blood magic and necromancy. There were countless essays about Avernus, the Nine Hells, the lords and demons that ruled it.
Books about the numerous monsters and beasts that populated the world of Faerun as well as about the various races and their history.
The library of Blackwater Bay was large and had many books, but it was hard to compare with the mass of books in this secret realm.
Neither gold nor gems were to be found here, but Teárlach had discovered a far greater treasure for himself. Knowledge.
Knowledge of the dark magic of Faerun.
He smiled.
And the smile was still on his shapely lips as he opened the door to his left and entered a bedchamber. The bed was richly decorated, the walls hung with the heads of various monsters such as gnolls, harpies, displacer beasts, the eye of a Beholder and even the head of a Cambion. Numerous portraits were carved into the wood of the bed frame, Faces of various demons, devils, souls burning in the hellfires of Avernus for eternity. Several diaries were stacked on top of each other on a secretary and a shelf that hung above it. Teárlach took the top book and sat down on the bed, leafing through it with interest. His interest was piqued although he was unaware that an unfamiliar presence was watching from the shadows, aware of the darkness in the high elf's heart.
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Date: 2024-06-18 10:18 am (UTC)Und was für ein Cliffhanger am Ende! Ich bin wirklich gespannt auf das nächste Kapitel 😃
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Date: 2024-06-26 09:41 am (UTC)♥️♥️♥️