Isa of Catalamna
Prologue
Dappled with sheer sunlight, the cryptic road twisted abruptly, winding into
the steep high mountains where the magnificent, laudable oaks stood guard. Here,
capacious trees thrived and various alders, tulips, roses, and more lay dispersed
throughout the rich soil. At the core of this magical imperturbable forest, a modest,
unpretentious pond lay silent, creating an aesthetic sight. Crystalline water cascaded
into the elusive pond which held a furtive secret of immortality. Those who sipped
from this unique pond would forever be bound to Earth, never dying. Considered a
curse by many, but always spoken with fervor and a certain degree of levity. From
this unusual pond thrived the many creatures that are now legends. Vampires,
angels, fairies, countless diverse creatures, and, of course, the Valley Folk were
results of this unfathomable pool of water. However, this story does not entail the
mishaps and adventures of the immortality pond.
For centuries, the people of Catalamna mercilessly hacked down the towering
oaks, thinking it an innocuous act and inadvertently releasing the animosity and
wrath of the austere Valley Folk. These inhabitants- the Valley Folk- were
immortal, and became quite forlorn to view such intemperate acts from the race of
man whom they had always admired. Our egregious greed was driving the Valley
Folk from their homes, deep in the forest. Retaliating, the Valley Folk instigated a
war, admonishing us for our derogatory fallacy. Formidable they were, and
society quickly capitulated to the capricious war. Soon, the citizens of Catalamna
did not dare chop down trees; most did not tread near the "forbidden" forest.
Hence, without wood for warmth, what were they to do? Though the Valley Folk
had resorted to war, they were, in fact, quite altruistic and for whom the
effervescent children of the village held excessive affinity for. Silently, without a
single caustic remark, the enigmatic Valley Folk created a conciliatory gesture, and
every summer, they distributed single sticks of wood, which would inexplicably burn
throughout the entire year, to every single person- poor or rich. Somehow, the
mystifying Valley Folk would know who had been considerate or devious and they
showed their acclaim by paying deference by presenting more sticks to those who
had been amiable the following year. This chronic custom prolonged. Nevertheless,
time came again when the freedom of the peaceful Valley Folk and others was to be
meddled with and challenged.
Part 1
Captured. Like the incorrigible fool she was. As foolish as a monkey in a
dress.....that was how she had acted.She sighed and then immediately cringed.
Acute pain flared through her right leg from where the bloody arrow had pierced her.
Examining her surroundings, she adjusted her position, hoping it would alleviate
her pain, all the while glaring at the straight, ramrod back of her captor. Another one
of the king's foolish lackeys. Wincing in pain, she sighed once again. Strong
lackey. Realizing the firm, uncompromising grip of his arm binding her to horseback
hardly created an ingratiating environment. Eventually, after the journey became a
muddle of rhythmic patterned movements, the handsome colt eased to a
lackadaisical trot, then completely halting. Only then did the man slacken his iron,
yet gentle, grip, hoisting her easily over a shoulder.
"We will stop here." stated the stranger, devoid of emotion, though she could
percieve crinkles of amusement as she continued to glower at him. Intelligent emerald
eyes surveyed her. Dark, unruly hair casually tied in a ponytail framed his young
frame. A chiseled structure, analogous to those of his age, matched his equally
broad shoulders. Judging by his imperial threads, she guessed he was a fastidious
dresser. Calloused hands revealed years of mastered sword fighting. No way was
she going to be able to escape, especially with her injured leg. Looks of
ambivalence and despair crossed her ambigous face. Her captor merely appeared
amused, laughter tugging at his discerning eyes as if he knew what she was thinking
about.
Irritated, Isabella Callista Rossilini, Countess of Calamna, asked hotly," Who are
you? And where am I going?"
He replied, a tone calm, polite, and emotionless save the insufferable hint of
amusement," I amVidanric Vestigo, Duke of Norburry. We- he emphasized the we
as Isabella had neglected to use that term before- are traversing to- here he
hesitated- the King's castle."
Diverting her eyes from his contemplative gaze, she thought bitterly.The king.
Of course. He'll kill me, just as he had killed my mother. Tears stung her eyes,
yet she refused to cry in front of the enemy.Why can't they see? Ignorant fools!
The king, is a despotic tyrant! A man so incongruous with his own country! He
wants to capture the lands of Calamna, and in doing so, will anger the kind
Valley Folk! He will kill us all with his greed! And me with my foolishness! Why
had I put my good people in danger? My honorable, but distraught, indigent
people who had formed a meager army, hoping to overtake the King's troops.
And me....getting captured by an intolerable, intractable man! What a
lamentable story my life is. She deprecated, concluding her antagonistic
denunciation. Dogmatic, Isa vowed she would release the harmless prisoners from
the clutches of King Baldronire. Isa's eyes drifted and soon she gave into lassitude
nodding off to immutable slumber.
When Isa came to again, it was the slow recognition of absolute stillness.
Looking up, she locked eyes with the inscrutable gaze of Norburry(Roald).
"So, you are awake, Lady Isabella. We have arrived."
Finally, her eyes sighted the astounding castle, toppling with masses of gray, red,
and gold tiles- all artfully engraved and designed to perfection. She frowned. This
was not the King's castle that she remembered. Her memory of when she had visited
the castle years ago flashed in her head. True, this castle was indeed regal, but the
castle she remembered was gray and towering....large slabs of ashen rock, one on
top of each other, superior to this one's height. Although, she was considerably
shorter then...but still.....Glimpsing the innocence and confusion in her eyes,
Norburry smiled, once again, merriment ringing in his eyes. With an eyeroll of
disdain, Isa came to the conviction that this was not an aberration from his usual
infuriating character.
"Come, this is-"
"Where are we? This is not the King's castle!"Isa demanded.
"-my home." he finished wryly.
"What? Wait-What?"
He simply strode, in long, easy steps, to the entrance, looking back to
beckon her. Curiousity enabled Isa to move forward; thankful, she was for the pain
in her leg had subsided. Through the sophisticated, impressive mansion they ambled
in a straight course. Down the gilded stairs and finally they arrived at............the
kitchen? Holding up a clandestine door, he summoned her. Arms crossed and
scowling, she followed, eyes narrowed. Dimly lit, the spacious room was furnished
with only a lean wooden table and a stray chair. She had had enough.
"What's going on, Norburry?"she inquired, confused.
Norburry seemed absorbed in diligently pouring the red wine into the crystal
wine glass. He held up a glass, gesturing her to accept. Growling, Isa grasped an
empty glass and flung it at him. He caught it, of course. Catching it smoothly, he
dismantled it from his upturned hand and he laid it gently on the table, raising an
eyebrow. Then, he simply gazed at her, his eyes inscrutable as usual. Suddenly, the
doors flung open and in stepped Melville Rossini, Count of Calamna, her brother.
"Mel!!!"Isa screamed, jumping into his outstretched arms.
"Isa.....I missed you. Good thing Danric here found you before the King's men." he
murmured, clutching her tightly, allowing her to sob.
Danric? "W...What? Vi...Vidanric?"
"That's his name. You could try to use it, you know. I mean, he doesn't call us
Calamna." Mel finished sheepishly.
" He....He's not good!" Isa looked up, her eyes rimmed with tears from crying.
"No, actually he is. He's a spy...on our side. He just has to pretend to ally with the
King so he is not beheaded. A brilliant idea, actually." Mel remarked.
Commiseration glittered in Norburry's eyes, though his composure lay as
calm as before. Defiance flared in Isa's eyes as she replied," So, what are we gonna
do now?"
"I believe that our best plan is to take the King's troops by surprise. If we can
capture the King's army, along with the King, there will be little reason for the others
to fight. He is, as you know, not very popular," cam Norburry's cool, articulate
reply," To be concise, we will fight until they all die. Observe everything with
circumspect, and show no clemency, for they will show us none. We will not
condone the damage they have done and intend to do."
Trying to corroborate the information, she suddenly overcame a wave of
exhaustion, feeling quite debilitated. Sniffing- the tears had made her nose stuffy-
she answered a terse," Fine. I'm going to sleep now." With that, she stormed out and
a maid guided her to her quarters.
Mel begain desperately," She's good, really. Really. Let me talk to her and try to
cajole her. She'll understand."
"I'd give her some time before you try." came the dry, blithe reply.
"She never stays mad........that long," advocated Mel lamely.
"I acquiese completely. I'm afraid it is very much my fault. We met under, shall I say,
loathsome circumstances. I had tried to deter from alienating her, but I'm afraid
we had come to misunderstand each other. My duplicity has made me aloof.
Hopefully, in time, Lady Isabella will understand it was all for her safety and not be
impartial about my intentions, however implausible they may seem."
"Ahhhh," sighed Mel," It's not your fault. It's clear....incontrovertible that you're a
good guy. It's Isa finds it hard to trust people. But I guess that's
why she makes such a great countess. She's really great, though, you know? I
mean, she loves the people from the village like her own, and the Valley Folk even
communicate with her sometimes....I mean, they never talk to anyone, but they do to
Isa. Now, mate lets efface the whole ludicrous situation. I'm very much tired. Let's
retire, shall we?"
"Huh? Oh yes....yes,"Broken from his train of thoughts about a certain someone,
Norburry stood." Tomorrow we shall fight."
As Isa entered her room, she was surprised to find an anonymous miniature box
nestled on her creamy pillow, alongside a long stemmed rose. Opening the box, she
found a dazzling ring, encrusted with diminutive diamonds as sparkling as the sun.
Who? A diamond holds a lot of meaning. Love. Mel? Oh, yes. That has to be it.
What a wonderful brother! This will be our little secret. Slipping on the ring, she
found it fit perfectly. Oh, a diamond was missing! Oh well, I 'll get it fixed later,
she thought carelessly. She glanced at her next gift, comfortably ensconced next to
the box. Crimson petals stared up at her as she gazed lovingly at the long green stem
connecting to a rose as red as a ravishing ruby. Smiling, she fell asleep. Tomorrow
she would fight. Today she would sleep. The perfect rose.
Tomorrow is the day of battles. Tomorrow, history will change. Roald Vestigo,
Duke of Norburry leaned back on his pillow, arms resting beneath his head. He
glanced at his left pinky, where a gold ring embedded with a solitary diminutive
diamond glittered conspicuously Smiling, as if he harbored a secret, he gazed
through the window where abundant roses filtered through, piling onto his mahogany
desk. Roses as red as a ravishing ruby. The perfect roses.
