Lake Silvermere
Present Day
Spring was advancing into the heady heat of summer. Lake Silvermere sparkled in the breezy sunlight, a glittering display of freedom beyond the city walls always in sight of the houses that lay along the shoreline. Very few had families in residence yet; indeed, only one on this shore was alive and lived in, and even then, only because the home in the city was no longer safe for the mother and son who dwelt there. The house was compensation for dangers faced, a bribe from the Triad to keep the mother under their thumb while the boy grew into his own, away from the harsh realities of the man he believed to be his own father.
Yet the house was more than enough to bring laughter back into their lives. Mara was seen more to smile, to laugh; she rode out with her son almost every day, able to spend her time with him as she saw fit. Unless she had a visitor from the Triad. Robert was thriving, renewing his boyish love of life away from Stefan and the threat of harm to his mother if he put a foot out of line. Both mother and child had many diversions here on the shores of Lake Silvermere, and it was to one of those kept most secret that a figure loved by both was making her way beneath the spring sunshine.
It had taken many years, but Elise had finally been brought into Mara's secret - the location of that hideaway her only love had often taken her to when they had been young. And with a little encouragement, Elise had coaxed her young mistress into visiting the forgotten cottage once again, drawing the good memories from the bad. Between them, the two women had spent days setting the little place to rights once more, preparing to show it to Robert when it was fit for habitation once more. It was there that Mara intended to tell her son who his true father was. And it was there that Elise was heading now, her basket laden with foodstuffs that would keep for a month or so, the finishing touch on the newly restored Mallory cottage.
As she approached the overgrown building, however, she paused, her ears catching a sound that, while not unknown to her, was not one she expected to hear in this place. The sound of a horse's stamp, within the crumbling wall that surrounded the gardens. Common sense should have taken her back to Mara immediately, but Elise still had a little of her own stubborn waywardness about her. She crept past the tangled rose bushes, noting the fine stallion chewing contentedly at the lush grass. There were figures inside the house - voices, too. Who could that be? she wondered, suppressing the wild hope that it could be the young master himself returned after too many years. More likely it was opportunists, squatters with no respect for the laws and rights of those who had once called this place home.
The horse lifted his great head at the arrival of yet another stranger. At least, this one did not make him so nervous as did the other. Curious, perhaps, but after a snort to acknowledge her presence, he went back to munching on grass, as if he had not a care in the world. He was a fine horse - a purebred Thermadorian from the looks of him, rarely seen in Dreven - intelligent, spirited, capable, and one not easily mastered, by any but those who knew horses. This was no common horse and belonged to no common master. That was much clear. The closer the woman came to the house, the more distinct were the voices inside - clearly that of a man and a woman, though their words were too muffled to make out.
Elise was no expert when it came to horses - she barely knew a mare from a stallion - but even she could spot a rare sight when it was presented to her. She stared for a long time. The horse was not made to serve a low-born master, she knew that much, which could only mean that the intruders had wealth, power, perhaps. But what would wealthy, powerful people be doing trespassing on such an old, forgotten place" Her head turned toward the cottage once again, creeping closer to one of the windows that lay almost hidden in the creeping vines. A male voice, a female voice, incoherent ....but there was something familiar about the shadowed silhouette of the man. She couldn't see him clearly, but even so, Elise could feel Mara's impossible hope stirring. It can't be. Can it"
As the woman crept closer to the cottage, the voices became more distinct, the words clearer. Though the man's voice seemed familiar, the timbre had changed, grown deeper, and there was a slight unidentifiable accent to his words, as if he'd spent many years in a foreign land far away from home. "What would you have me do?" the man asked. "I'm not even sure I believe you."
The woman's voice, when she spoke, sounded young, and yet wise beyond her years. "Why did you come back here, Duncan' Ask yourself that and you have your answer."
Duncan. Elise nearly cried out when she heard the name spoken, delight and fury mingling in her heart as she leapt to the only conclusion that could possibly make any sense. He's home. But who was that with him' She might have burst in to give him a clip around the ear for being away so long, if he'd been alone. But ....had he brought a wife back with him' The older woman's throat closed for a moment at the terrible thought of what that would do to her young mistress.
There was no reply from the man at the question posed by the woman, and after a moment of silence, she continued, "I will leave you to think on that, but do not take long in deciding. There are more lives at stake than just your own. You know how to find me." And with that said, the door opened and a woman who looked like little more than a girl stepped out. Long brown hair cascaded down her back, a dark red cloak obscuring her figure. She paused for a moment, lifting her head as if she had caught a strange scent on the air, before tugging the hood up over her head. She turned to the great beast who seemed uneasy at her presence and spoke to him in a strange tongue, but maintained her distance. And then, she disappeared into the trees, as if she'd never been there at all.
Once again, Elise was reduced to staring in something very close to scared astonishment as she watched the female's departure. Not a wife, then; perhaps not even a friend. That little interlude had not been of the friendliest tone, what little she had heard of it. And what was this decision the young master was being pushed into making? Elise frowned, shaking herself out of her thoughts. First things first ....
Straightening her shoulders, the older woman marched to the door, pushed it wide open, and pointed her stern gaze toward the tall, broad-shouldered man who stood within. "Duncan Mallory, I ought to turn you over my knee!"
His back was turned to her as she entered, as he quietly contemplated the message brought to him by a stranger who claimed to know him, who claimed to love him as a brother. When he turned to face her, the conflict and confusion was plain to see on his face, if only for a moment, quickly replaced by something else - surprise, astonishment, relief, anger - a momentary flood of conflicting emotions all playing themselves across his face before he quickly regained control and hid them beneath a facade of indifference, a learned reaction. He was older than when she'd seen him last, weathered by battle and hardship, but still as handsome as he'd been in his youth, perhaps even more so for having become a man.
His face was still youthful, burnished bronze from the sun, his hair a lighter shade of brown with long, unruly curls that were held back by a single plaited strand on one side of his head. He wore simple clothing in shades of brown made of cloth and leather, a hand resting idly against the sword at one hip. A leather cord around his neck disappeared beneath his tunic. He had grown taller and broader, strong enough to rival even the best warrior. The only thing about him that hadn't changed, it seemed, were his eyes - still as blue and as unfathomable as ever.
Elise absorbed all this in an instant, setting her basket down inside the door as she closed it behind her. "Don't you give me that look," she warned him. "Grown or not, I'm still your elder." She didn't seem to have changed much at all; her face was more lined with care and hardships, her forearm marked with an old scar. But she was still the Elise he recalled, still the warm, affectionate, stern woman who had spent so much time trying to keep him and Mara out of trouble in their youth. She moved toward him, relieved tears in her hazel eyes. "You're alive," she said, almost incredulous. "Thank the gods, you're alive!"
Spring was advancing into the heady heat of summer. Lake Silvermere sparkled in the breezy sunlight, a glittering display of freedom beyond the city walls always in sight of the houses that lay along the shoreline. Very few had families in residence yet; indeed, only one on this shore was alive and lived in, and even then, only because the home in the city was no longer safe for the mother and son who dwelt there. The house was compensation for dangers faced, a bribe from the Triad to keep the mother under their thumb while the boy grew into his own, away from the harsh realities of the man he believed to be his own father.
Yet the house was more than enough to bring laughter back into their lives. Mara was seen more to smile, to laugh; she rode out with her son almost every day, able to spend her time with him as she saw fit. Unless she had a visitor from the Triad. Robert was thriving, renewing his boyish love of life away from Stefan and the threat of harm to his mother if he put a foot out of line. Both mother and child had many diversions here on the shores of Lake Silvermere, and it was to one of those kept most secret that a figure loved by both was making her way beneath the spring sunshine.
It had taken many years, but Elise had finally been brought into Mara's secret - the location of that hideaway her only love had often taken her to when they had been young. And with a little encouragement, Elise had coaxed her young mistress into visiting the forgotten cottage once again, drawing the good memories from the bad. Between them, the two women had spent days setting the little place to rights once more, preparing to show it to Robert when it was fit for habitation once more. It was there that Mara intended to tell her son who his true father was. And it was there that Elise was heading now, her basket laden with foodstuffs that would keep for a month or so, the finishing touch on the newly restored Mallory cottage.
As she approached the overgrown building, however, she paused, her ears catching a sound that, while not unknown to her, was not one she expected to hear in this place. The sound of a horse's stamp, within the crumbling wall that surrounded the gardens. Common sense should have taken her back to Mara immediately, but Elise still had a little of her own stubborn waywardness about her. She crept past the tangled rose bushes, noting the fine stallion chewing contentedly at the lush grass. There were figures inside the house - voices, too. Who could that be? she wondered, suppressing the wild hope that it could be the young master himself returned after too many years. More likely it was opportunists, squatters with no respect for the laws and rights of those who had once called this place home.
The horse lifted his great head at the arrival of yet another stranger. At least, this one did not make him so nervous as did the other. Curious, perhaps, but after a snort to acknowledge her presence, he went back to munching on grass, as if he had not a care in the world. He was a fine horse - a purebred Thermadorian from the looks of him, rarely seen in Dreven - intelligent, spirited, capable, and one not easily mastered, by any but those who knew horses. This was no common horse and belonged to no common master. That was much clear. The closer the woman came to the house, the more distinct were the voices inside - clearly that of a man and a woman, though their words were too muffled to make out.
Elise was no expert when it came to horses - she barely knew a mare from a stallion - but even she could spot a rare sight when it was presented to her. She stared for a long time. The horse was not made to serve a low-born master, she knew that much, which could only mean that the intruders had wealth, power, perhaps. But what would wealthy, powerful people be doing trespassing on such an old, forgotten place" Her head turned toward the cottage once again, creeping closer to one of the windows that lay almost hidden in the creeping vines. A male voice, a female voice, incoherent ....but there was something familiar about the shadowed silhouette of the man. She couldn't see him clearly, but even so, Elise could feel Mara's impossible hope stirring. It can't be. Can it"
As the woman crept closer to the cottage, the voices became more distinct, the words clearer. Though the man's voice seemed familiar, the timbre had changed, grown deeper, and there was a slight unidentifiable accent to his words, as if he'd spent many years in a foreign land far away from home. "What would you have me do?" the man asked. "I'm not even sure I believe you."
The woman's voice, when she spoke, sounded young, and yet wise beyond her years. "Why did you come back here, Duncan' Ask yourself that and you have your answer."
Duncan. Elise nearly cried out when she heard the name spoken, delight and fury mingling in her heart as she leapt to the only conclusion that could possibly make any sense. He's home. But who was that with him' She might have burst in to give him a clip around the ear for being away so long, if he'd been alone. But ....had he brought a wife back with him' The older woman's throat closed for a moment at the terrible thought of what that would do to her young mistress.
There was no reply from the man at the question posed by the woman, and after a moment of silence, she continued, "I will leave you to think on that, but do not take long in deciding. There are more lives at stake than just your own. You know how to find me." And with that said, the door opened and a woman who looked like little more than a girl stepped out. Long brown hair cascaded down her back, a dark red cloak obscuring her figure. She paused for a moment, lifting her head as if she had caught a strange scent on the air, before tugging the hood up over her head. She turned to the great beast who seemed uneasy at her presence and spoke to him in a strange tongue, but maintained her distance. And then, she disappeared into the trees, as if she'd never been there at all.
Once again, Elise was reduced to staring in something very close to scared astonishment as she watched the female's departure. Not a wife, then; perhaps not even a friend. That little interlude had not been of the friendliest tone, what little she had heard of it. And what was this decision the young master was being pushed into making? Elise frowned, shaking herself out of her thoughts. First things first ....
Straightening her shoulders, the older woman marched to the door, pushed it wide open, and pointed her stern gaze toward the tall, broad-shouldered man who stood within. "Duncan Mallory, I ought to turn you over my knee!"
His back was turned to her as she entered, as he quietly contemplated the message brought to him by a stranger who claimed to know him, who claimed to love him as a brother. When he turned to face her, the conflict and confusion was plain to see on his face, if only for a moment, quickly replaced by something else - surprise, astonishment, relief, anger - a momentary flood of conflicting emotions all playing themselves across his face before he quickly regained control and hid them beneath a facade of indifference, a learned reaction. He was older than when she'd seen him last, weathered by battle and hardship, but still as handsome as he'd been in his youth, perhaps even more so for having become a man.
His face was still youthful, burnished bronze from the sun, his hair a lighter shade of brown with long, unruly curls that were held back by a single plaited strand on one side of his head. He wore simple clothing in shades of brown made of cloth and leather, a hand resting idly against the sword at one hip. A leather cord around his neck disappeared beneath his tunic. He had grown taller and broader, strong enough to rival even the best warrior. The only thing about him that hadn't changed, it seemed, were his eyes - still as blue and as unfathomable as ever.
Elise absorbed all this in an instant, setting her basket down inside the door as she closed it behind her. "Don't you give me that look," she warned him. "Grown or not, I'm still your elder." She didn't seem to have changed much at all; her face was more lined with care and hardships, her forearm marked with an old scar. But she was still the Elise he recalled, still the warm, affectionate, stern woman who had spent so much time trying to keep him and Mara out of trouble in their youth. She moved toward him, relieved tears in her hazel eyes. "You're alive," she said, almost incredulous. "Thank the gods, you're alive!"