Karthwynne entered the inn and shook the rain from her cloak. Dratted
weather! It had been raining for the last two days, and she was wet right
through to her bones. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness of the room, she
moved to the nearest table and had a seat. She pushed back the hood of her
cloak, releasing long, wavy tresses. Tomorrow, she might cut the darn
things off. But tonight, Karth was just too tired. Her long journey was
done for now. She had reached Sothington Heights and planned to stay a long
while.
The serving wench ignored her and Karthwynne gave her a long, hard stare with her sapphire eyes. Sighing softly, she gave the wench her best winning smile, hoping to glean some sympathy for a cold, weary stranger. Shortly, she was happily tucking into the mutton stew that was the specialty of the house, and washing it down with good, warm ale. Karthwynne allowed herself to relax, her thoughts turning to her life...
"No you will not!" Karthwynne's father roared loud enough to wake the dead. "There will be no witchery in MY house!"
The same argument, over and over, ever since Karthwynne discovered the precious gift of magic that sang through her veins. She missed her mother's support. Poor luck the Lady Amalthea was killed in a tragic riding accident when Karth was sixteen. The eldest of four daughters, Karthwynne fell into the role of Lady of the House. Lord Valark was a bitter man, and very controlling of "his women". He was stubborn, and his word was law.
Karthwynne should have known better than to ask him for permission to apprentice as Mage. "Magickers" and "Sorcerers" were evil, vile and not to be trusted. He would never accept the differences in his eldest daughter: how she could "converse" with animals since she was a young girl, how she could "feel" the energies around her, from the very earth to the trees. There was something special about Karth. The Lady Amalthea had noticed, and did the only thing she could think of: she took Karth to see her sister, the hedge-witch Serina, who lived in a nearby village.
It was Serina who explained to Karthwynne what she was experiencing. Karth felt such relief when Serina taught her to center, ground and block out the unwanted energies that would enter her mind. Karth had always heard a "buzzing" in the back of her head that sometimes caused her to have terrible headaches. Now she knew why, and more importantly, could control what was going on in her head. Serina taught her some basic principles of the Craft, and Karthwynne drank it all in quickly and excitedly.
Giddily, the young girl rode home with her mother, happily chatting along the way about what she might do as a mage. Serina knew she did not have the skill to train Karthwynne, and besides that, Lord Valark would never allow it. He hated Serina and forbade contact with her by his wife and daughters. If he knew Amalthea and Karthwynne had visited Serina that day they would both have been severely punished. Lady Amalthea promised to talk to her husband about sending Karthwynne to Sothington to apprentice as Mage. Karth was hopeful that Lord Valark would see how special she was... surely he could not deny her Talent.
Deny it he did, and loudly, too! Lady Amalthea's soft pleadings could barely be heard above Lord Valark's ravings. Karthwynne's tears fell silently onto her pillow. She knew they were discussing her, and that her mother had failed in her request. The subject was never mentioned again.
Then came the fateful day that Lady Amalthea was killed while riding her favourite palfrey. Karthwynne knew she had lost her champion, her mentor and her friend. Lord Valark went mad for weeks, tearing about the grounds destroying all he could. The young girls stayed in their rooms, too frightened to venture into the path of a madman. There were some in the village who said grief would kill Lord Valark, but before a year had passed, he hardened himself against the pain and continued on with his life. His focus turned to the future of his holdings, and away from insignificant daughters. The girls found themselves without mother or father, and turned to each other for comfort and support.
Two years later, Karthwynne tried to brooch the subject with Lord Valark again. Pleading she was an adult who could make her own decisions, she tried to appeal to him by suggesting he would have one less daughter to worry about. She was surprised to find he had been thinking about his eldest daughter, and had in fact decided the course of her life. His "problem child" would be cured of her "curse" once and for all: Karthwynne would be married to Lord Valark's oldest friend, and be Lady at the nearby estate. Their sons would inherit both lands and all would benefit, especially Lord Valark, who would foster his grandsons on his estate, which was much larger then Lord Evans'.
Karthwynne was aghast. "Lord Evan? You must be mad! He is an old, cruel man. How could you do this to me!"
"You will do as you are told," came the icy reply. "Lord Evan has accepted the dowry and you have no choice in the matter. You will marry at the Midsummer Festival. You will bear his sons. And you will get all of this childish fantasy nonsense out of your head, because Lord Evan will bear no nonsense from any woman."
And that was that. She tried pleading, and when that failed, she attempted to flee, all in vain. Lord Valark simply posted more guards to watch her. Karthwynne was married at eighteen to a man over sixty, and her hopes of becoming a mage were shattered. Lord Evan was a cruel husband, using her for nothing more then a show of his manhood. She was confined to the estate, and heavily guarded at all times to prevent any attempts at escape. Karth lost contact with her sisters, as one by one they were married off to the most politically advantageous Lords. Lord Valark became, through use of his daughters, one of the most powerful Lords in the Kingdom.
Karthwynne spent her years on the Evans estate in misery. She tried to focus her abilities and teach herself simple spells. Karth spoke with her Lord very little, and he ignored her except for the occaisonal social function. She searched Lord Evans' library for any information that might help her. The volumes and volumes of books in the library focused mainly on war strategies and the history of her new Lords' family. While she learned much about strategy, tracking and life in the army, there was little else to distract her intelligent mind. Karth began to lose faith, and resigned herself to her new life.
One thing served as a comfort to her: Lord Evan was not able to consummate their marriage due to an old war injury. As a result, Karthwynne was not forced to bed with him, and no children of hers would grace the Valark estate. She knew the folk of the Evans estate and the servants in the palace spoke of her barrenness. Karth took the blame and never told the truth to anyone. Better not to have children in a loveless marriage, she thought. Better still not to provide a cruel man like Lord Valark with an innocent child to mold and warp into a copy of himself.
The years passed slowly for Karth. She became more melancholy, less likely to enter into discussion with anyone. Her inner fire became diminished with time. Sometimes it was hard for her to remember when she was young and full of hope.
Then one fateful night, there was a commotion in the palace the likes of which Karthwynne had never heard. Still in her dressing-gown, she arose quickly and went into the hall. The doctor was in the hallway coming to meet her with the fateful news: her Lord had died in his bed shortly after retiring for the night!
Karthwynne was free! Suppressing an inappropriate sense of elation, she ran back to her room. The following weeks were a blur to her; the visitors, the sympathy for the "poor, faithful widow", the funeral. All Karth could think of was that, after eighteen years in a loveless marriage, she could escape her prison. Her lands had been willed to her father, Lord Valark. He would tend the townsfolk. No one would miss her, indeed, the people barely knew her.
She slipped out one night unnoticed, dressed as a page, her hair bound under the hood of her cloak. Putting together an impromptu pack, she saddled her favourite palomino mare, and Karthwynne left that chapter of her life behind her. She made straight as an arrow to the only place where people would understand her, the only place she knew the Mages gathered: Sothington Heights.
Now she was glad she had read those 'boring" books on warcraft; they served her well in her journey. Karthwynne was able to find her way north easily, avoiding two groups of bandits along the way, living occasionally off the land. She was forced to sell her mare early on; and with the money from her sale, Karth was able to replenish the food in her packs and stay the odd night at a friendly inn. She also carried some gold and jewels with her from the estate of Lord Evan, kept hidden deep beneath her clothing. Karth was saving those in hopes of trading with the Master Mages at Sothington. Perhaps the valuables would help her persuade them into taking an "older" woman as apprentice.
Karth spoke with many people in the weeks of traveling, and loved hearing their own stories of life on the road. She found herself falling in naturally with these people, travelers and mercenaries who were happy to tell their tales over a good cup of mead or wine. Karth loved to listen to the minstrels play, and was even invited to join the dance on occasion! She was pleased to know she was still able to laugh, and the years of oppression were washed away from her with the rain. Never once did Karthwynne wish for the comforts of the castle and the wretched life she had left behind, no matter how cold or wet or hard the ground.
Pushing her now empty plate from her, Karthwynne was beginning to settle into her current surroundings. Glancing around the hall, she found she was one of only three customers on this stormy night. She wanted nothing more then a simple room and a bath; tomorrow was plenty of time to move about the town and find out where the Masters held their school.
Karthwynne rose from the table, down the last of her ale, and purchased a room for the week from the innkeeper. Weary but full from the good stew and relaxed by the warm drink, Karth undressed and retired for the night.
The scarlet-haired beauty awoke refreshed and ready for adventure. Tired as she was from her long journey, she still awoke with the dawn! She walked swiftly and soundlessly (so not to wake any of the other patrons) to the room for bathing. A cauldron of water stood ready for heating, and Karth didn't wait for it to heat by fire. Focusing her mind on the water, it was soon warmed to a more comfortable level (although still too cool for her taste). She washed her lithe body quickly and went back to her room.
Karth dressed in the clean clothing in her pack: underclothing, tunic and soft woolen trousers, thick stockings and leather boots. Weeks of walking and fresh air had transformed her body, giving her the strength and energy she had as a younger woman. She donned her blue cloak that reminded her of the sky at night. Shaking out her long, clean hair, Karth remembered her thoughts of cutting the whole mess off, and changed her mind. She would probably need it to keep her warm, anyway, and she did like it. Karth's fiery red hair was something that made her special, her signature. It certainly attracted attention during her journey so far! She braided it quickly and crossed the room, opening the door on the new day.
She went downstairs into the hall, pleased to find her host moving about preparing for his breakfast customers. After another excellent meal of more stew, Karthwynne went outside. She took a deep breath of cool morning air. She felt reborn! In the morning light, the townsfolk were coming alive, and she started to explore the city called Sothington Heights. Her mind was filled with wonder at the size of the place. After making a few inquires, Karthwynne started confidently in the direction of the Schools of Learning, eager to begin a new chapter in her life.
The serving wench ignored her and Karthwynne gave her a long, hard stare with her sapphire eyes. Sighing softly, she gave the wench her best winning smile, hoping to glean some sympathy for a cold, weary stranger. Shortly, she was happily tucking into the mutton stew that was the specialty of the house, and washing it down with good, warm ale. Karthwynne allowed herself to relax, her thoughts turning to her life...
"No you will not!" Karthwynne's father roared loud enough to wake the dead. "There will be no witchery in MY house!"
The same argument, over and over, ever since Karthwynne discovered the precious gift of magic that sang through her veins. She missed her mother's support. Poor luck the Lady Amalthea was killed in a tragic riding accident when Karth was sixteen. The eldest of four daughters, Karthwynne fell into the role of Lady of the House. Lord Valark was a bitter man, and very controlling of "his women". He was stubborn, and his word was law.
Karthwynne should have known better than to ask him for permission to apprentice as Mage. "Magickers" and "Sorcerers" were evil, vile and not to be trusted. He would never accept the differences in his eldest daughter: how she could "converse" with animals since she was a young girl, how she could "feel" the energies around her, from the very earth to the trees. There was something special about Karth. The Lady Amalthea had noticed, and did the only thing she could think of: she took Karth to see her sister, the hedge-witch Serina, who lived in a nearby village.
It was Serina who explained to Karthwynne what she was experiencing. Karth felt such relief when Serina taught her to center, ground and block out the unwanted energies that would enter her mind. Karth had always heard a "buzzing" in the back of her head that sometimes caused her to have terrible headaches. Now she knew why, and more importantly, could control what was going on in her head. Serina taught her some basic principles of the Craft, and Karthwynne drank it all in quickly and excitedly.
Giddily, the young girl rode home with her mother, happily chatting along the way about what she might do as a mage. Serina knew she did not have the skill to train Karthwynne, and besides that, Lord Valark would never allow it. He hated Serina and forbade contact with her by his wife and daughters. If he knew Amalthea and Karthwynne had visited Serina that day they would both have been severely punished. Lady Amalthea promised to talk to her husband about sending Karthwynne to Sothington to apprentice as Mage. Karth was hopeful that Lord Valark would see how special she was... surely he could not deny her Talent.
Deny it he did, and loudly, too! Lady Amalthea's soft pleadings could barely be heard above Lord Valark's ravings. Karthwynne's tears fell silently onto her pillow. She knew they were discussing her, and that her mother had failed in her request. The subject was never mentioned again.
Then came the fateful day that Lady Amalthea was killed while riding her favourite palfrey. Karthwynne knew she had lost her champion, her mentor and her friend. Lord Valark went mad for weeks, tearing about the grounds destroying all he could. The young girls stayed in their rooms, too frightened to venture into the path of a madman. There were some in the village who said grief would kill Lord Valark, but before a year had passed, he hardened himself against the pain and continued on with his life. His focus turned to the future of his holdings, and away from insignificant daughters. The girls found themselves without mother or father, and turned to each other for comfort and support.
Two years later, Karthwynne tried to brooch the subject with Lord Valark again. Pleading she was an adult who could make her own decisions, she tried to appeal to him by suggesting he would have one less daughter to worry about. She was surprised to find he had been thinking about his eldest daughter, and had in fact decided the course of her life. His "problem child" would be cured of her "curse" once and for all: Karthwynne would be married to Lord Valark's oldest friend, and be Lady at the nearby estate. Their sons would inherit both lands and all would benefit, especially Lord Valark, who would foster his grandsons on his estate, which was much larger then Lord Evans'.
Karthwynne was aghast. "Lord Evan? You must be mad! He is an old, cruel man. How could you do this to me!"
"You will do as you are told," came the icy reply. "Lord Evan has accepted the dowry and you have no choice in the matter. You will marry at the Midsummer Festival. You will bear his sons. And you will get all of this childish fantasy nonsense out of your head, because Lord Evan will bear no nonsense from any woman."
And that was that. She tried pleading, and when that failed, she attempted to flee, all in vain. Lord Valark simply posted more guards to watch her. Karthwynne was married at eighteen to a man over sixty, and her hopes of becoming a mage were shattered. Lord Evan was a cruel husband, using her for nothing more then a show of his manhood. She was confined to the estate, and heavily guarded at all times to prevent any attempts at escape. Karth lost contact with her sisters, as one by one they were married off to the most politically advantageous Lords. Lord Valark became, through use of his daughters, one of the most powerful Lords in the Kingdom.
Karthwynne spent her years on the Evans estate in misery. She tried to focus her abilities and teach herself simple spells. Karth spoke with her Lord very little, and he ignored her except for the occaisonal social function. She searched Lord Evans' library for any information that might help her. The volumes and volumes of books in the library focused mainly on war strategies and the history of her new Lords' family. While she learned much about strategy, tracking and life in the army, there was little else to distract her intelligent mind. Karth began to lose faith, and resigned herself to her new life.
One thing served as a comfort to her: Lord Evan was not able to consummate their marriage due to an old war injury. As a result, Karthwynne was not forced to bed with him, and no children of hers would grace the Valark estate. She knew the folk of the Evans estate and the servants in the palace spoke of her barrenness. Karth took the blame and never told the truth to anyone. Better not to have children in a loveless marriage, she thought. Better still not to provide a cruel man like Lord Valark with an innocent child to mold and warp into a copy of himself.
The years passed slowly for Karth. She became more melancholy, less likely to enter into discussion with anyone. Her inner fire became diminished with time. Sometimes it was hard for her to remember when she was young and full of hope.
Then one fateful night, there was a commotion in the palace the likes of which Karthwynne had never heard. Still in her dressing-gown, she arose quickly and went into the hall. The doctor was in the hallway coming to meet her with the fateful news: her Lord had died in his bed shortly after retiring for the night!
Karthwynne was free! Suppressing an inappropriate sense of elation, she ran back to her room. The following weeks were a blur to her; the visitors, the sympathy for the "poor, faithful widow", the funeral. All Karth could think of was that, after eighteen years in a loveless marriage, she could escape her prison. Her lands had been willed to her father, Lord Valark. He would tend the townsfolk. No one would miss her, indeed, the people barely knew her.
She slipped out one night unnoticed, dressed as a page, her hair bound under the hood of her cloak. Putting together an impromptu pack, she saddled her favourite palomino mare, and Karthwynne left that chapter of her life behind her. She made straight as an arrow to the only place where people would understand her, the only place she knew the Mages gathered: Sothington Heights.
Now she was glad she had read those 'boring" books on warcraft; they served her well in her journey. Karthwynne was able to find her way north easily, avoiding two groups of bandits along the way, living occasionally off the land. She was forced to sell her mare early on; and with the money from her sale, Karth was able to replenish the food in her packs and stay the odd night at a friendly inn. She also carried some gold and jewels with her from the estate of Lord Evan, kept hidden deep beneath her clothing. Karth was saving those in hopes of trading with the Master Mages at Sothington. Perhaps the valuables would help her persuade them into taking an "older" woman as apprentice.
Karth spoke with many people in the weeks of traveling, and loved hearing their own stories of life on the road. She found herself falling in naturally with these people, travelers and mercenaries who were happy to tell their tales over a good cup of mead or wine. Karth loved to listen to the minstrels play, and was even invited to join the dance on occasion! She was pleased to know she was still able to laugh, and the years of oppression were washed away from her with the rain. Never once did Karthwynne wish for the comforts of the castle and the wretched life she had left behind, no matter how cold or wet or hard the ground.
Pushing her now empty plate from her, Karthwynne was beginning to settle into her current surroundings. Glancing around the hall, she found she was one of only three customers on this stormy night. She wanted nothing more then a simple room and a bath; tomorrow was plenty of time to move about the town and find out where the Masters held their school.
Karthwynne rose from the table, down the last of her ale, and purchased a room for the week from the innkeeper. Weary but full from the good stew and relaxed by the warm drink, Karth undressed and retired for the night.
The scarlet-haired beauty awoke refreshed and ready for adventure. Tired as she was from her long journey, she still awoke with the dawn! She walked swiftly and soundlessly (so not to wake any of the other patrons) to the room for bathing. A cauldron of water stood ready for heating, and Karth didn't wait for it to heat by fire. Focusing her mind on the water, it was soon warmed to a more comfortable level (although still too cool for her taste). She washed her lithe body quickly and went back to her room.
Karth dressed in the clean clothing in her pack: underclothing, tunic and soft woolen trousers, thick stockings and leather boots. Weeks of walking and fresh air had transformed her body, giving her the strength and energy she had as a younger woman. She donned her blue cloak that reminded her of the sky at night. Shaking out her long, clean hair, Karth remembered her thoughts of cutting the whole mess off, and changed her mind. She would probably need it to keep her warm, anyway, and she did like it. Karth's fiery red hair was something that made her special, her signature. It certainly attracted attention during her journey so far! She braided it quickly and crossed the room, opening the door on the new day.
She went downstairs into the hall, pleased to find her host moving about preparing for his breakfast customers. After another excellent meal of more stew, Karthwynne went outside. She took a deep breath of cool morning air. She felt reborn! In the morning light, the townsfolk were coming alive, and she started to explore the city called Sothington Heights. Her mind was filled with wonder at the size of the place. After making a few inquires, Karthwynne started confidently in the direction of the Schools of Learning, eager to begin a new chapter in her life.