Halkin Estel

In a kingdom hidden from human and demonic eyes, the unique peacefulness of a warm summer night is disrupted by a sudden invasion.

Faervel Halkin, has now been dragged out of her slumber and into the corridors and the alleys of her own homeland; with only one request from her family. To leave, live, and never forget.

Leaving everything behind her, she must find her own path towards her destiny and towards the only solution that will help her save her beloved kingdom.

Because Faervel Halkin will not forget, and will certainly not forgive.

*First, rough draft*

7Likes
6Comments
401Views
AA

3. Chapter Two ❄ The Journey

"Sometimes, It's the journey that teaches you a lot about your destination" -Drake Graham

 

 

It was mid-afternoon when Faervel Halkin finally reached the capital of Elfrine, Hertila. She passed underneath the northern gate and, having received a few odd looks from the guards, she clutched her cloak tighter around her and made sure that her form was concealed from head to toe.

 

She was seated atop Acorn, who with slow steps made his way to the very center of the capital. Her blue eyes looked around the magnificent town, feasting at the site of the marvelous buildings.

 

They called Hertila 'the stone town', and for a good reason. Every building, every path, was made by Elfrine's most precious and protective stone.

 

Rocks, of all kind, were to be made and shaped into a specific kind of stone, which would later be enchanted by the Kings royal mages. Thanks to this enchanted stone, not only the town, but the entire land of Elfrine was protected from raids and wars.

 

Yet the towns of Elfrine were not only protected by these enchantments. The king had made sure, that magic boundaries had been set all over Elfrine; boundaries that only he, and other members of his royal family could strengthen or dissolve. And guarding these unbreakable boundaries were the elite warriors of Elfrine; warriors who were trained in the oldest academy of the five kingdoms: Nethel.

 

Protected from its own, Nethel was the first academy to ever exist. In a land above Hertila, supported by infinite power and magic, lay the unique castle-like building. Every year, a few selected ones, from the ages of eighteen and above, were able to fight for the right of becoming student's. Trials were held in order for the academy's council to decide which of the initiates would walk the academy's threshold; and which would have to retry the year after.

 

Faervel found herself staring at the huge floating hill. She always wondered how the academy looked from up there. She had seen paintings and pictures in books, where the academy looked more like a place for angels, as it was always surrounded by a golden aura, that prevented everyone from reaching out for it. Even the king himself couldn't reach the academy without the permission of the council.

 

However, Faervel's dream of attending the academy as a student had been destroyed when none other but her father had explained to her that her duty was to her homeland; and to her homeland alone.

 

She sighed and gripped her hood, bringing it close to her eyes, disabling the view of her face to those passing by. News of her homelands defeat would soon spread out and the last thing she wanted was being in the eye of the storm.

 

She had already decided that staying in Hertila, the most populated and overgrown town of Elfrine, was a bad idea. People swarmed the narrow paths, making walking through even more difficult than it already was. Especially when one dragged along a full grown horse.

 

Acorn huffed and nudged her with his nose. Two days, she thought as she patted his head. Two days and then we'll move on.

 

Faervel closed her eyes and breathed. It was getting rather hard for her to stay inactive and to not run back to her homeland; whatever the cost. But she knew she also had to warn someone; someone trusted, who would believe her without any doubt... and who would let her leave without any obligation to him... or Elfrine.

Her eyes wandered once more to the floating hill and she sighed. There was one person whom she could trust.. but she'd rarely seen him in all of her eighteen years. And the only way to seek him out...

 

She fiddled with the necklace around her neck. He had given this to her when she was four; a star shaped necklace made from ice that could not be unfrozen; or broken for that matter.

 

She let it fall unceremoniously back to her chest, its cooling temperature reminding her little of what she had left behind. She then took a small breath and started walking towards the closest inn; for this was not the time, nor the place for her to communicate with him. One false step and all this façade would be ruined.

By the time Faervel found a respectable inn, the sun had started its downfall, illuminating the stone town with a golden color that bounced off the golden decorations of the town.

 

Dark shadows had made their way underneath her blue eyes, and a sense of tiredness had crawled into her eyelids. She had one hand in Acorn's reins and another clutching her bag. Her grip, however, seemed to falter bit by bit.

 

She walked with Acorn to the inn's stables and after a reassuring stare from the horse, and a look at the stable boy, she made her way to the inn's entrance. As she turned her head around once more to check on her horse, she caught a glimpse of a golden haired boy bouncing around her river mare, his grin never once faltering from his small thin face.

 

Acorn watched the boy silently before huffing and looking at her direction, causing Faervel to roll her eyes, and reach for the door knob.

 

She made her way inside, slowly adjusting to the brightness and the smell of the inn.

"Welcome to the White Lotus Inn! How may I be of service?" a young woman asked, a smile creeping in her thin face. She then looked at Faervel more carefully, from her hood, to her twin swords and her pouch, and as her mischievous grin faltered, she slowly adjusted her fiery hair behind her shoulders. "Milady?"

 

Faervel looked up, and grinned.

 

*-*-*

 

Faervel stood awkwardly inside her rented chambers. She wasn't used to this; to staying somewhere else other than her own chambers. She was very young when she traveled with her father, and not remembering the nights she spent away from home, seemed almost natural to her.

 

The room was nice; she supposed. Made from the same stone as every other building, it gave her little comfort against the darkness that had swarmed her homeland in a blink of an eye.

 

She shook her head and focused on the rest of her surroundings. Sure enough there was a bed, covered in green-silk bed sheets, one of the unique colors of Elfrine. And on the far corner of the room there lay a small wooden table with a lit candle floating above it. And next to it, a door, which she supposed led to the washroom.

 

Faervel shivered and collapsed on her bed. Her back ached from her long trip, her head hurt, and her hands still trembled.

 

So many things had happened in such a short period of time, and she couldn't help but allow the cruel feeling of helplessness overtake her emotions.

 

For she was alone in a foreign kingdom. She had no one and nothing left.

 

She stood up and made her way shakily to her bag. She unsheathed her twin swords from her back, and left them near it, still marveling at the silver flake carvings. It was her father's gift to her, when she came of age.

 

Her father. She could still see his kind smile shining on his face as he presented her with the swords. He knew his daughter, and he knew her well. He knew when she was sad, even when she hid it well. He knew when she was hurt, even if she pretended to be perfectly fine. And he knew when she was furious, even when she was calm.

 

Yes, her father knew her well. For she was exactly like he was. Both had silver hair, and both had bright blue eyes, eyes that with the change of the winds and of the moon, changed color and became a swirling game of clouds and water. Gray and blue.

 

Lord Frithorn was a kind man, a man who above all valued everyone else's opinions and thoughts. A man who never once gave up on someone he trusted, and most of all, loved.

 

These would be the words that one would use, if asked to describe the young Lord. But none would ever forget the undying love he showed to his daughter.

The young lady had a spirit unlike any other, a spirit that she inherited by none other, than her father. She was not an easy child, for she would likely be found in court, brawling with any person that dared move near her. She wanted to be like her father: a warrior, a friend, and a wise companion.

 

She had begged and begged for her father to lend her his sword, to allow her to learn how to defend herself, but each time her mother shook her head and dragged the youngster away from the wicked grin of her father.

 

When she became eighteen she was surprised to see that her prayers for her own sword and dagger had been answered. And soon she started her training, sparring not only with her masters, but with her father as well, who tended to outwit her.

It had not been long since she had started training, and the disaster had struck. She hadn't been able to help at all, she could only run.

 

Faervel shook her head to rid the memories and unsheathed the last sword that lay hidden inside the safety of her cloak. Aelon.

 

Aelon was her father's sword, the one she had begged to hold when she was little. It belonged to her father's great ancestor Luther and had been passed down the family.

The silver hawk, her family's emblem that once circled the handle of the sword proudly, had now hung its head down, as if it knew what had happened. She held the sword close to her until-

 

There was a sharp knock on the door and Faervel quickly hid the sword under the sheets.

 

"Come in"

 

The door opened to reveal the small figure of the young woman who had welcomed Faervel to the inn.

 

"I brought you food, I did ma'am." She walked inside quickly and left the tray on the small table. She then made her way to the door and bowed before stepping out.

"Wait!"

 

The woman turned around, and looked expectantly at Faervel. "Yes milady?"

 

Faervel sat on the bed and smiled. "If I may ask... where are you from?"

 

"Why, from here Milady!" she said and quickly turned around.

 

"I know you're not from here" Faervel said and smirked.

 

The woman stood still and took a small, careful breath.

 

"How" she asked, and turned around once more.

 

Faervel pointed to her head and smiled. "You have not been careful enough, it seems. They are showing."

 

The blood from the woman's already thin and pale face seemed to be drained, as she reached out and patted each side of it. She closed her eyes and sighed. "Guess I had forgotten... But you haven't been careful either milady."

Faervel sighed and shook her head once more.

 

"Corhen?" She asked and saw the woman nod her head. "Can I trust you then?" She could not see her reaction but she knew that she would never had lied to her even if she could. She wouldn't be able to.

 

"Yes milady. What do you wish of me?"

 

Faervel went to the wooden desk and withdrew a small parchment. She then searched for a quill and inn, and once she found them she scribbled some words on it. When she had finally finished, she folded it carefully pressed one of her rings on it until sparks appeared and gave it to the woman.

 

"Make sure he receives it" she whispered and smiled at the woman. "Don't tell anyone who sent it, or where the sender was staying. This is of utter importance."

The woman nodded and walked out of the door. Seconds before the door closed she heard her Lady whisper "Thank you, Mirtian" and she smiled.

 

*-*-*

 

Faervel stared at the door as Mirtian made her way out of the room. She smiled and sat at her bed. She knew she had chosen this inn wisely. The name by itself reminded her of something distant, yet familiar. Yes, she had stayed once more in the White Lotus. Presumably when her father had traveled here with her. Oh, how she wished he were here right now.

 

"Right." She said and spied the large window by the closet. She jumped up and made her way to the chair next to it.

 

Night had fallen by now, and she could not help but stare at the majestic town. Yes, Hertila seemed to be even prettier at night. With candles flowing above the city, and small boats making their way beneath the bridges of Elfrine's river, it created a unique atmosphere for those who had not lived long enough in this city.

Faervel reached to her necklace, and tugged it out of her shirt.

 

"Now... How does this bloody thing work?"

 

Join MovellasFind out what all the buzz is about. Join now to start sharing your creativity and passion
Loading ...