A Tahakén Princess
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The Star named me Ashnidanté for the night I was birthed and the storm that couldn't take my spirit.
"Eternal lightning," Alanna mused as she continued walking; soundless, unbreakable, appears during darkness or the night, strikes without warning and retreats just as swift.
A fitting name, she informed the stallion, Ashnidanté it is!
The Immortal Hunter mounted on Eternal Lightning, Ashnidanté agreed as he walked next to her.
Alanna hesitated at his translation of her own title before complying, after all, many thought she was immortal and she was incredibly difficult to kill, May our legend begin!
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The ground shook as the group of horsemen charged past, down the cobblestones without a care for the peddlers in the street. Growling, a young man watched them with distaste but hastened in the direction they had come from, for where the Wardens went destruction wasn't far behind.
Slipping through the rubble and ruin of the once Capital City, he internally wondered what life would be like without the Wardens, without the Ruling House of Slyenthia controlling the Nation and charging the Wardens with chaos and destruction on the other Houses and their lands.
Asharn was the smallest House of the Nine, and its ruling House was once able to take care of their people and lands. Now though, their Castle was crumbling down around them, their several faithful family servants sleeping in the same wing as the Royals and eating at the same table.
Geographically, Ashran was vertically unfarmable. Barren and rocky, with cliffs and mines the people were struggling to make a living, most of the people who could leave had left generations earlier. Elders, who had been told of the more prosperous days, clung stubbornly to their roots, and youth hid in the streets, hiding from the Wardens.
Any child found and caught was taken as a slave, sold to distant Houses or forced to work for the Districts Wardens.
He personally thought that Ashran was being punished for a brief rebellion several hundred years earlier, but there was no proof of this, apart from tales told by his Nan, and everyone knew she wasn't entirely there.
No, the powerful Houses merely sought to take from those weaker than them, sending in their Wardens to the military weaker, and sending armies to rape and plunder the stronger military Districts.
There was a soft noise ahead and he froze, ears straining and the noise was heard again and he hurried forward.
Rounding the corner he saw a girl sobbing against the stone wall, her dress torn from her lower body and blood on her thighs and bruises forming on her arms.
Her long black hair was in tangles and hid her face from view, but he would know her anywhere.
"Kahalan," he croaked as he leapt forward, towards his sister.
She didn't appear to hear him, for when he reached out to touch her shoulder she leapt back, huddling against the wall, sobbing louder.
Rage rose within him and he stood panting heavily, lost within his fury as red enveloped his vision.
"Kam?" His sister asked in a soft voice, broken by sobs.
Gold eyes met gold eyes and Kam felt his fury evaporate, he couldn't go after the Wardens now, his sister needed him.
He pulled her dress down, jaw clenching and eyes averted, before leaning forward and scooping his little sister up into his arms.
"It's ok, Kahlan," he reassured her, holding her tightly, "I've got you."
She lent her head against his shoulder and went still.
Kam's long legs took him through the ruins and across the cobblestones, and towards the Castle, the seat of the House of Ashran.
It wasn't truly a castle, not like the ones he had hear about in the wealthy Districts, but every House had a Castle, and though this once great Mansion was hardly a fortress, it was stilled named as such.
Ashran Castle had very few guards, in truth there was nothing to guard. The walls had long since fallen and with no money to rebuild them they had remained in rubble, the stones being carted off by desperate villagers to become houses or the occasional wall. The men who were "guards" were the Stable Master, his apprentice, the Manservant, the Cooks son and several old men who sought refuge within the kitchen for warmth.
The Lord Ashran was elderly, the death of his wife and several children aging him and frequently his duties had fallen to his only remaining son, who was valiantly trying to feed and clothe his people, but was failing miserably. Lord Ashran even refused visits from his daughter, Kahlan, who reminded him to much of all that he had lost.
Running towards the Castle he began to scream for help, fittingly it was Craig, his father's Manservant and Captain of the Guard, who reached them, his dark features paling as he saw Kahlan.
"Master Kamaroon!" He cried and quickly took Kahlan from her brothers arms and ran into the castle, Kamaroon hot on his heels.
"Get the Cook!" He ordered and Kam veered off, running for the Kitchens.
Reaching the door he flung it open to find their elderly cook in discussion with one of his mother's former maids. Seeing the look on his face and his clothes covered in blood, they both stood and wordlessly followed him, the Cook only pausing to get her healing bag.
Craig was hovering awkwardly over the bed, on which Kahlan lay, pale and unmoving.
The women immediately ushered him out and shut the door, he paused for a moment and glanced to Kam, "I ah, guess, I had better go and inform My Lord."
Kam nodded, watching the man who had helped raise him walk away, dread lining his posture.
It was approaching daylight when he awoke, having slid down the wall to sit on the floor outside his sitters door and the door was stilled closed.
"Kam."
He glanced up and saw who had awoken him. Craig was even paler than before, deep bags beneath his brown eyes and he looked older in the faint light.
A callused hand was hovering in mid-air and he accepted it to help him up, upright the Manservant normally towered over him, but today he seemed withdrawn and there were tears in his eyes.
"I'm sorry, son, but your sister didn't make it," Craig explained softly, pulling Kam closer and holding him as he understood his words.
Internally he was screaming, howling his rage and sorrow to the Heavens and to any God that would care to listen. Externally he was crying his face etched in sorrow and then his fury rose, matching his sorrow, battling each other inside him as he fell apart in his mentors arms.
Darkness had fallen when he thought to seek out his father, rising from his bed he made his way towards his parents room, at the end of the Wing. Since his mother had died several years ago, his father had lived alone, unable to cope with the death of his eldest, second and fourth son and his youngest daughter. All that remained of the House of Ashran were the Lord and his daughter Kahlan, who had recently turned twelve and one of his sons, who was barely fifteen summers, Kamaroon.
The servants had lit the torches and they cast flickering lights over his face as he walked down the corridor. Pausing outside his father's room he straightened his clothes and knocked sharply on the door. There was no answer so he waited a moment before rapping again on the door, "My Lord?"
There was no answer and he opened the door, stepping into the room, "Father?"
The curtains were open and the last rays of light dimly lit the once elaborately furnished room, he could see the bed and a desk and chair.
Summoning his Gift he lit the room, straining at the attempt, for his Magic wasn't very strong.
Glancing to the bed, he froze, his father lay deathly still and rigid upon the sheets, a blade was next to him, in a pool of his own blood. His roar of fury brought the servants running and he fled to the dungeons, taking the dangerous stairwell, nonchalant about his own life.
Moments later Craig joined him, his father's faithful Manservant risking his life to ensure his safety. He carried a torch and used it to light the other ones in the brackets, casting light onto the cobwebs and dust. Kam peered into the darkness, taking a torch from the brace and holding it before him, as they entered further into the dungeons. This was where his ancestors were encased, his mother and siblings lay here and soon his father and sister would as well, his family would all be here, left to rot away encased in stone.
The thought disgusted him but also brought a sense of longing and loneliness. He has alone, the last of the Ashran's, and it was left to him, a fifteen year-old boy, to bring honour upon his House and to avenge his family.
The light cast shadows over his skin and his eyes sparked in the flame. Emotionally and mentally worn he sagged against the wall, ignoring the way the stone cracked at his weight.
Then it occurred to him, his enemies weren't crying alone in a dusty and crumbling dungeon, mourning what was lost and what could never be. No, they were probably out drinking or raping another girl.
Rage replaced his sorrow, building and building until he felt as though he would burst.
"I'll kill them!" He screamed, "I'll kill them all and sacrifice them to any God that will help me!"
"Killing them won't bring your sister back," Craig consoled softly, tears streaming down his face as he watched the young Lord fall apart.
Kam wrenched himself from his embrace, "How many more will they kill until it starts to matter? Until there is no one left?"
He glared at his teacher, "I will kill them all, or die trying," he vowed, "The Gods be my witness!"
Craig stared evenly at his Lords son, now his Lord, "Killing them won't bring anyone back," he hesitated, glancing to the closed door before turning back to Kam, his brown eyes hardening, "But it's a start."
Kam stared at him, "You will help me?"
Craig clamped his fist to his heart and lowered himself to one knee, "My Life and my Sword are yours, My Lord Ashran."
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Thunder rumbled through the castle, a dark cloud hanging over the broken towers and fallen walls. In one of the few stable rooms, the Lord Ashran and his manservant discussed what was to be done with the fallen House. "Milord," spoke the elderly man with greying hair, "there is nothing left for us." He paused as thunder cracked and lightening flashed, louder than before, almost like it was inside. " We have no money, we have nothing to sell, nothing to offer anyone who would even consider helping us. No one would want to help us," he continued, turning from the window.
"Oh I wouldn't say that," drawled a voice and the manservant leapt to his feet, hand shooting for the old and worn blade at his side. "Kam," he stood between the stranger and the young Lord, "Stay behind me."
The stranger leant against the wall, a long blade at his side, and had crossed his arms casually. Eyeing their uninvited guest Craig knew that if it came to a fight, the stranger would finish him, he would pose little threat to this man.
"Who are you and what do you want?" He asked, slowly backing away forcing Kam behind him. The foolish boy and drawn his dagger and was clutching it tightly. Muscles rippled beneath a blue tunic as the stranger straightened and moved off the wall.
"I am no one," a smile entered his tone and he moved from the shadows. Standing at over six foot, the stranger was almost as wide as he was tall, muscles flexed as he moved and his beard was rugged and unkempt. Black eyes appraised them cockily beneath heavy brows and tanned skin.
"As for what I want…well… I want what you want," he suddenly smiled, revealing broken and yellow teeth, it wasn't a pleasant smile.
"Stay where you are," Craig drew his blade, holding it readily in a defensive stance, protecting his Lord.
Their guest eyed the blade in amusement but halted in his walk forward, "Earlier you swore to kill every single one of your enemies and sacrifice their bodies to any God that would help you."
"You have been watching us?" Shouted Kam, enraged and before Craig could stop him, turned and charged the stranger, dagger upraised. "Kam, no!"
The stranger moved forward and met the boy weapon-less, twisting the dagger from his arms and throwing it at Craig's feet, warning him to stay where he was. Sobbing Kam ignored the obvious warning signs and threw himself again at the warrior. A hand the size of a loaf of bread shot forward and clutched the Lord around the neck, slamming him up against the wall with brutal force. Kam cried out in pain and Craig leapt forward, sword prepared. The guest turned and drew his own blade in one movement, keeping Kam pinned against the wall, and with a clash of steel their swords were crossed.
Spinning to the side he tried to pass the warrior's defences, only to find he had shifted his body and now had his sword in his other hand, having switched Kam for the blade. The long sword easily fit in one hand, and the giant spun it around to knock his own sword from his grasp. As the warrior turned back to Kam he saw a black scar on the back of the man's neck. It was in the shape of small flame and there was a circle around it, in words.
Craig paled, he knew who this man represented, and he remained still as the warrior began to speak softly to his liege. Kam's eyes widened as he was spoken to and he nodded hurriedly. Then his face went blank, and Craig grew concerned. He shifted forward and a giant sword bearing hand rose in his direction. "Stay," ordered the man loudly, his voice bouncing off the walls.
Craig reluctantly stayed where he was, waiting to see what would happen. Suddenly the man released Kam and the boy thudded to the floor, nursing his sore throat. A loud bang, like thunder, rumbled about the room from the storm outside and the strange vanished.
Craig hurried forward as Kam slowly got to his feet, "What happened? What did he say?"
In his arms the Lord was trembling like a leaf and he was clearly in shock. "The Ashran family will rule for ten centuries," he whispered finally in awe as he straightened.
Craig looked at him worriedly, "Tell me you didn't agree to anything he said! Tell me!" Furious and scared he shook the boy harshly, "Tell me!" Kam was limp in his arms, "You never, ever make a deal with a one of them!"
Finally Kamaroon blinked, and removed the elder man's arms from about him, "The House of Ashran will rule for one thousand years from the moment they take the crown."
Craig paled, "But at what cost?" Kam shook his head, unable to speak.
His expression was a mixture of wonderment, shock, and determination, but what scared Craig the most as the Lord turned to look him in the eyes, was the horror within the depths.
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"Alanna," Raku clasped her shoulders tightly, "I need you to promise me, promise me that no matter what happens, you will do as the Master commands." Purple eyes gazed up at him, noting the serious look in his green eyes, with something darker lurking behind it. "Is everything ok?" She asked of her lover.
Raku sighed, closing his eyes briefly before peering into her own with such intensity she wanted to look away. "Alanna, promise me. Please."
Alanna looked at him seriously, "Raku, it will be fine. You said so yourself. I won, now I am officially being made a Tahakén Princess." A smile crossed the young man's face, erasing years from his strong features and his entire being softened at the pride in her voice. "Yes," he pulled her into a deep hug, holding her tightly before releasing her.
"I am so proud of you," he whispered, cupping her face with a large, callused hand and his heart raced as she leant into his touch. "I love you, never, ever forget that."
Alanna leant back, smiling up at him before raising herself and kissing him gently, "I know."
"Shall we?" Alanna gestured towards the door and Raku held his arm out for her. Smiling she draped hers over his and they walked towards the door, there were human guards outside, who bowed them through and stood to attention as they walked down the hallway. The Master had guests present for this historic day, the day that Tahakén announced its first Princess and as with all celebrations; it was a chance to show off. The Master had ordered Tahakén and its inhabitants to sharpen up and meet the high standard he set.
The castle had been manually cleansed of all dust and dirt, the marble floors had been polished so much that they worked better than a mirror and the uniforms had been upgraded. The warriors were coated head to toe in the finest of armour, gleaming like deadly blades. Handsome slaves were brought in, some were nobility, stolen for their good looks, and were forced to serve. Where the guests were to dine, had been cleared and swept, jewels and gold adorning the pillars and the cutlery was gold and silver with chalices of diamond. The walls had been decorated with gems and gold and The Masters great scaled throne had been moved to the end of the hall.
Before him there was a large long table, where his Teachers, Royalty and "advisors" would sit, all with their backs facing him. In front of them were tables running down the length of the hall, this was where the guests would sit. A slave was to be stationed next to every second plate, prepared to serve and stationed at each pillar were guards. Giving light to the gathering were great jewels, hovering below the ceiling and casting light to all corners of the room. It was an impressive display of power, wealth and magic.
Alanna was adorned in a red dress, oddly enough for all his sexism, The Master was very particular as to what a woman should wear to an important gathering, either nothing or she were to promote her sex to all that were present. This is what had led the Tahakén Lady to be clad in a skin tight dress which brushed the floor and had a tight leather corset. Her lower arms were protected with vambraces in the form of red leather and known only to herself and Raku; she had snuck her combat boots beneath her dress, casting an illusion over them to get them past her inspection.
Her companion was clad head to foot in black, with silver cuffs and collar. Down his chest were silver buttons, there was silver piping on his cloak, and he wore long pants that gathered atop his combat boots.
He touched her arm as they waited to be summoned, "Remember, you are a Tahakén. No law comes before The Masters." Alanna glanced to him, and nodded sharply, conceding to his wishes.
The door's opened before them and they were bowed through, the hall falling silent as they approached all eyes were on them.
Elaborate dishes were in place along all of the tables, the concoction of smells was a little overwhelming, especially since she was able to smell better than a human. They made their way swiftly towards the table before The Master, where two seats in the centre, before him, were free. Silently he directed Alanna to his left and Raku to his right, and they both obediently sat after bowing in his direction.
The Master had hidden his features today, hiding beneath a hood and was leaning against his throne, though every being in the room was carefully avoiding looking at him. The master raised a gloved hand and instantly there was silence, in front of him multi-coloured fire formed and spread in front of him, creating a screen. Respectfully all eyes turned to face him, though some clearly feared for their lives as they did so.
"Tonight is going to memorial," began The Master, his voice sending chills down many spines, "tonight we celebrate a Princess and heir."
Pictures began to form on the screen and some leant forward interested, for this was the tale it had taken Alanna, The Lioness, to become a Princess. The Master had designed a competition for an heir, ordering Alanna to compete, but she would have anyway. The tournament was loosely based around the "Lives of Death," tournament, of which Alanna had won eight times, but with one great prize at the end, the title of the Crown Prince/Princess of Tahakén. However, unlike the Lives of Death, this tournament spanned years, with a variety of different tasks, ranging from poetry to carpentry and archery to sewing.
To lay claim the contestants, firstly, had to be able to avert aging. The Masters of Craft were millennium old, and had spent their entire life in pursuit of their craft and to lay claim the contestant had to beat the Master's at their many craft. Each contestant got to choose which craft they would challenge, the Master either confirmed or denied each challenge proposal. For Alanna, every single one of her physical combat, stamina and magical challenges had been denied, she figured it was done for a laugh, but she had accepted The Masters wish without complaint, she wasn't stupid. Nobody disobeyed The Maser.
In the end she had settled for things like climbing, archery, swimming, diving, hunting, horse-training (Ashnidante was her final product, and he was spectacular) carving and tracking. Mostly she had avoided "girl" areas of expertise but she could sew, cook, play instruments and had an odd flare with words.
Today the Council of Anake would determine whether her claim to the throne was valid, each of the Council members was a Master of Craft, but their expertise was not limited to a single craft like the Masters of Craft. The Council had many talents, and could lay claim to any Master of Craft position within their field, but were on the council because they could claim many. These men and women were the ones who would judge her, there was a combat Member, for all forms of combat, singular, many and wars. The Member was a tactician, commander and all round expert warrior. There was a Mage Member, who was so proficient in all forms of Magic it took Alanna's breath away. There was the Host Member, who was the perfect host, she could cook, bake, exchange pleasantries, sing, play all instruments and dance.
Alanna had trained hard and learnt with a thirst fit of the dying, she loved to learn, and her imprisonment at Tahakén hadn't changed that.
Raku, for some reason had not competed in the tournament and when she asked him he had told her it was because he was already a Prince and that none would dare challenge his title. But he had seemed off when he said it but Alanna had put it down to nerves, but now as he sat next to her she couldn't help but wonder if it were more.
Shaking her head internally she turned her attention outward, in time to listen as The Master ordered each Council Member to announce their decision. One by one each member stood and backed her claim, asserting her right as Heir to Tahakén. The final two to speak rose at the same time, identifying themselves to the crowd she learnt that they were the Council Members of Magic and Combat. The woman was clearly the Mage, she wore a long black robe Alanna knew was characteristic with Mastery in Magic, and she didn't hold herself like the man next to her did. He was a warrior all right, covered in scars with muscles moving beneath his skin and she could see sheaths were blades had been, but he like everyone else, was required to leave weapons outside.
"We confirm Alanna's claim to the seat of Tahakén," here the warrior paused before glancing almost unnoticeably in her direction, "through her legendary status as a warrior."
The woman took over for him, "And from her prowess sung in tales of her power," she looked as though she would say more, however she did not.
Hesitating further she finished with, " We the Council clear Alanna as suitable candidate for the throne, does anyone dispute this claim?" There was silence in the hall and the Mage and Warrior bowed to The Master, "Master, the decision remains yours."
A pale hand gestured for them to take a seat and the two gratefully sat, but as they did so Alanna internally frowned, she couldn't have passed because she had never challenged either of those disciplines.
"We have our Princess," said The Master simply and the crowd began to cheer her, and Alanna inwardly smiled as she stood and turned to bow to The Master. Raku was nodding next to her, clapping along with everyone else, but as she turned back to him she caught a glimpse of something else behind the pride.
Slaves came forward carrying various dishes and drinks and began to serve the guests who were regaining confidence in the face of The Master's seemingly calm disposition. A number of the meats looked slightly too exotic to the majority of the guests, and Alanna watched as many of them selected what appeared to be familiar veal. Internally rolling her eyes Alanna looked to Raku who was quite happily helping himself to a selection of meat and salad.
Seeing Alanna watching him he nodded at her and gestured towards the food, almost instructionally, and when she shook her head he frowned at her and inclined his head purposely and deliberately at the food. Flicking her eyes upwards she began to help herself to some of the meat as the celebration continued around them. Dancers moved between serving slaves and some performers were throwing balls of flame into the air and creating shapes with them. Others were playing a variety of instruments and one was preforming flips, rolls and jumps as though they were weightless. There were animal trainers showing their charges off and there were mages creating images and shapes from their magic.
Several hours later a hush fell on the crowd as The Master raised his hand slightly. "I do hope you realised that the meat that looks like veal is, in fact, human flesh." There was a moment for The Masters words to sink in and there were cries of horror, pale faces and some retching. The Master chuckled softly in amusement, it wasn't a pleasant sound. Those who were being sick were thrown from the room and the slaves came in to clean up. Alanna remembered her own experience with the meat and felt slightly sympathetic for them, but not really. Energy was necessary in her training, and the only source of protein she had was in the form of human flesh, after staying away from it, she reluctantly agreed that it was necessary to her diet, she needed the energy otherwise… and the taste wasn't all that bad, it was rather enjoyable and she had certainly eaten worse. It was her mentality that felt repulsed at the idea, but now she had changed and human flesh was just another meat.
The tables were cleared by some Mages and the crowd was watching avidly as a slave walked towards the Master, holding a purple cushion with a small black veil on it.
The Master stood and Alanna and Raku slid from their seats, Raku moving to stand to the side and Alanna to wait before the throne.
She didn't look into his face as she stood before the chair, but felt his words resound throughout the hall.
"Alanna, you are the reigning champion for the Lives of Death Tournament, hold a Black Robe in Magic and can compete with any Shang warrior." Remaining silent Alanna listened as The Master began to list all of her achievements and couldn't help a slight swelling inside her, of pride and accomplishment.
Her attention was diverted to The Master when he addressed her, "Now, just one last question. What is an heir?"
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Authors Note: Does anyone want to hear from me? So, I half thought abandoning this fic, or just finishing it in one or two chapters (maybe more) but then I realised I just have to get back into it. I am going to apologise in advance for the time jumps/skips that may (and probably will occur) in the next chapters when I get bored. Thanks for the reviews
Miss Goldenlake: Don't hate me, but you will see what she can do very, very soon. I'm not actually sure what the people in Tortall are doing right now, I have a slight idea so I might include what they are doing later….
Lollypops: I understand your concern, but she will eventually return to Tortall.
Schubeyy: Lol, I still am having trouble getting inspiration to write, but thanks. I hope this chapter is worth the wait…the next one won't be….. ( Sorry….) Hm, Alanna and…. Raku?
Kaari8: Of course, you're welcome.
And, I think I will have a LOT more reviews in the next chapter...