DISCLAIMER (for this and every chapter herewith):
So with all those formalities and legalities out of the way, on to the first chapter…
Chapter 1: A Meeting of Rulers – Pt. 1.
Delfurrn, capital of Barzun, in the spring of 378HE.
"Your majesty?"
Queen Amayrha of Barzun, of the ancient house Tyorelle, turned away from the balcony to face the owner of the tremulous voice, her usually expressive face betraying none of the inner turmoil she had been lost in just moments ago.
"The Conqueror has arrived, and is waiting for you in the Great Hall."
The grim feeling that had been building inside of Amayrha for weeks suddenly expanded at the servant's words. He's here. He's here. The Conqueror is finally here.
Uneasy with the strange stillness that had overcome the young queen, the servant again broke the silence, "Your majesty? Do you wish to receive him, or should I tell him you're… indisposed?"
The last was said in a pitch a touch higher than normal. Despite the bleakness of the current situation, Amayrha allowed her lips to curve oh-so-slightly in a barely discernable smile, amused despite herself at the servant's obvious hope that she would not be asked to convey Amayrha's refusal. It seemed the servant had an instinctive fear of displeasing the Conqueror, no doubt having heard much of the man's ruthlessness.
Known by the moniker of 'Conqueror' within a mere year of his coronation, the Tortallan king was indeed a force to be reckoned with. In recent years, the Conqueror had become the dark fear living furtively in the hearts of most monarchs throughout the realm as kingdom after kingdom along the Drell River fell before him. Of them all, Barzun was the last to remain sovereign. It was this knowledge that had caused Amayrha many a sleepless night, and just as many nightmares as well.
Brought back to the present by the nervous hovering of the servant woman, Amayrha hesitated for the briefest of moments then squared her shoulders and ordered, "No, that isn't necessary. You may bring him to me here." Unspoken in her instruction was the message: I am queen here and will meet this Tortallan savage on my own terms!
As the servant curtseyed and took her leave, Amayrha turned back to the balcony, and gripped the intricately engraved marble balustrade with both hands, the action finally revealing the tension she felt. Hestya, give me strength to see this through, she prayed. If a small voice in the back of her mind laughed cynically at the hastily thought prayer to the goddess, she did her best to ignore it. The rumours are unfounded… there's no truth to them. It seemed that that had been her mantra for far longer than she cared to count.
Suddenly aware that that she was beginning to lose feeling in the lower part of her arms, Amayrha sighed and gentled her grip accordingly. Almost absent-mindedly, one hand rose to restlessly tug at the oddly shaped lapis-lazuli and peridot pendant she always wore, seeking the comfort it usually brought her. The other brushed gently against the wilted ivy atop the balustrade, and with one simply sung note, she brought instant succour to the pitiful plant, making it lush and dotted with ivory coloured blooms once more.
Those unfamiliar with the ways of the Barzi would have declared such a feat miraculous and incredible, unaware that it had been mostly instinctive and was, in fact, only a very small demonstration of Amayrha's true power. As a Songstress blessed with the Talent of Song, Amayrha was capable of far more than a simple green working of ivy. The Song meant that a Songstress could bind her will with the earth, and when it was used, the Songstress became the land and the land became her. It was said that the Song was a gift from Hestya, the goddess of Song and Joy and long rival to the Great Mother Goddess, to her chosen people: the Barzi – specifically, to the daughters of the nobility. From a time before even the Book of Glass, Songstresses throughout Barzun had used the Song to nurture, heal and encourage the earth, despite the country's mountainous terrain. Viewed as the tangible link between the people, land and Hestya, Songstresses were revered in Barzun, and accordingly, tradition had long decreed the ruling queen be the strongest Songstress.
From the moment of her birth, everyone knew that Amayrha Tyorelle would certainly be queen one day – and with the number of queens house Tyorelle had produced, that itself wasn't entirely surprising. What was unexpected was the same level of certainty felt by all that Amayrha would be a queen to rival even those long immortalized in legend. The Songstresses present at her birth were astounded at the sheer amount of raw Song emanating from the tiny babe, and in the years following, Amayrha simply continued to astonish. By the time she had completed her training at the tender age of fifteen (three years sooner than average), the old queen had practically thrown the ancient diadem at the adolescent whom to which it so clearly belonged to, and wished her the best of luck.
While the old queen's parting remark could have been construed as resentful given her successor's youth, unrivalled power and beauty, Amayrha had never doubted the sincerity behind it. Looking out now at the view of Delfurrn offered by her position on the balcony of her Dome Garden, she wished that she had had more of that luck in the five years she had held the throne.
By all accounts, Delfurrn had always been a city full of colour and bustling activity, but in the past century or so, the capital had become a dreary cityscape with weary citizens. Even the royal palace, which had long been admired for its superbly hewn white marble and bright bronze trimmings, showed signs of exhaustion.
Unfortunately, as Delfurrn transformed for the worst, so too did the rest of Barzun. The fields and orchards that had for countless generations grown happily on the mountainous slopes had become mutinous and grumpy, despite the tender care and coaxing of the Songstresses. Well-accustomed to prosperity and abundance, many people had become surly at the sudden downturn, and in the space of a couple of generations, Barzun's population – which had never been that significant in the first place – had dwindled considerably. Some had (or were) leaving in search of greener pastures, while others felt forced beyond choice. Of course, it hadn't helped that the indifferent and unspoken peace between Barzun and its neighbours had been broken by the aggressive attacks launched by Tusaine and Galla. The persistent rumours in recent decades, that Barzun had lost favour with its patron goddess, were similarly unhelpful.
In short, despite the power Amayrha possessed – which was the most any Songstress had ever had – even she couldn't do much to break Barzun's unexplainable misfortune, though she had time and again drained herself trying. Amayrha knew that her people, those who had stayed loyal to the country and tried to weather the grim times, silently regretted that she hadn't been born in an earlier generation when she might have had a greater chance at turning the tides of ill-luck. Given the competent ease at which the young queen had, during her first few months as queen, stomped down the threat of civil war that had been punted by outsiders as an inevitability, it was hard for many (Amayrha herself included) not to indulge in imaginings of what she could have achieved as queen in a different time.
It was these very what-if's that tormented Amayrha, for all the serenity she showed the world.
It was these what-if's and the responsibility in her dual roles as both Songstress and ruler that had changed her. That had turned her from the girl of unguarded smiles and spontaneous laughter she once was, to the straight-backed queen standing on a balcony overlooking her tired realm. It was no wonder that Amayrha's eyes, described by one of her suitors long ago as "green as the tropical rainforests of the Copper Isles", held a shadowed depth to them that was a mix of determination and weariness.
The past few months had brought on more of the latter, though she did her best to hide it. As her mother and grandmother had repeatedly told her during childhood, her position as queen meant that she was Barzun's heart and the people's spirit. Tired though both might be, duty demanded she stay strong. Always. Never mind that some days were simply harder than others. Never mind the dark whisperings that the Conqueror had set his hungry gaze on Barzun. Never mind the foreboding feeling that had stalked her since first hearing of the Tortallan's intention.
For Barzun's queen, there was no reprieve, not truly.
Mentally shaking herself free from her maudlin thoughts by giving her pendant a hard tug, Amayrha let out another sigh and frowned.
Songs, how long does it take the oh-so-legendary Conqueror to climb a few sets of stairs?
A/N: Alright, so that's chapter 1 done and over with. I've had this one written up since the start of May, so I'd dearly love hear what some thoughts are regarding it.
Also, thanks muchly for the reviews. Embarrassing as it is to admit, I actually only posted the prologue first so that I wouldn't lose my nerve, and to stave off any more second thoughts… The reviews were definitely not expected, but were just as definitely appreciated!
Specifically, to my reviewers:
Heather the Writer: Ta for your encouraging words – I have no doubt that I'll recall them in future whenever I have need of inspiration and confidence.
Angel of Death1: I'm glad you've liked this so far. Hopefully, I won't disappoint!
Highway Wench: Thank-you for your point about Amayhra. After looking up what 'Mary-Sue' meant, I definitely don't want my female lead to be type-cast as such. That said, I also don't want to lose any of her strength either, and I guess it's that balance that I'll need to keep aware of while I'm writing future chapters. As for your question regarding POV, it'll be mixed-third-person – some chapters will centre more on Amayhra rather than Jasson (and vice versa); others will have equal parts Amayrha and Jasson. There won't be any more direct first-person stuff though.
Impatient Griselda: Hehe, good point. I had a good reason for using 'lost', but after spending the past fifteen or so minutes trying to explain myself, I've decided that my original rationalisation was needlessly complex. So voila, 'private musings' it is!
--Enchantrez