From: mar@physics.su.OZ.AU (David Mar)
Subject: STORY: net.fiction.story Part 1 (repost)
Keywords:  repost, story
Organization: School of Physics, University of Sydney, Australia
Date: Thu, 9 Apr 1992 07:17:16 GMT

Part 1
      by Aki Taskinen
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The small company of four riders processed in silence towards a small hill,
the only one in the entire area. They soon noted they were expected;
a carriage and six mounts could be seen on the hill, even from
a distance. At closer range, a group of four warriors could
also been seen, maintaining their equipment by the carriage.
There was a sharp whistle, and four additional men moved from
various directions on the hill to meet the first three. Three of
them mounted, and rode to meet the riders. Two of them pulled
finally back, and stopped, readying crossbows; the third rode
straight for Anya's party, raising his right hand in greeting.
He smiled, a pleasant smile through his light black beard, and
his chain armor glinted in sunlight where not covered by the
black and gold of Lord Belin of Drael. He broke the silence with
a welcome. 

"Mylady Anya, welcome to Drael. I am Derek, captain of Lord Derek's
personal guard and second-in-command of castle Belinum. He sends
you his greetings, and wishes you to continue under Draelian escort.
We have the carriage awaiting you."

Anya measured the man with her eyes, noting no hidden meanings
or flinching. She spoke with cold, noble tone nevertheless.

"Captain, I shall ride, not use such a device on wheels, pulled
by a foursome of horses that should not be treated thus."

"Mylady, such is not behaviour accepted of a lady of your merit.
Your mount shall be well cared for", offered the guard, and gripped the
handle of his sword, still smiling... leaving no question about the
manner of transport. Behind him, the two crossbowmen gripped their
weapons more tightly, preparing for action.

Anya beamed with cold fire. Riding was her second nature, comparable
only with her skills with sword and bow. However, she accepted for fate
with a slight nod, seeking consolance in the idea that there should
be time enough to ride later, and that the alliance with Drael she was
sent to secure was vital to Merindale. With increasing fury, she also
accepted the disarmament of her own three guards, who rode tightly by
the carriage, looking rather sheepish. Highly skilled hunters without
weapons like a wolf pack without teeth. Yet, even a wolf without teeth
still has claws; Anya comforted herself with the idea that even
without weapons, a hunter-warrior from Merindale is a formidable
opponent for anyone.

The ride was long. To Anya it felt even longer; she yearned for
the feeling of powerful life pulsating between her things that
riding always brought up in her, the touch of warm fur on her legs,
the dazzling speed, the never perfect routine of staying on
horseback... even the fierce, never totally subdued look in the
eyes of her stallion, seeking incessantly for a sign of weakness
that she never would permit. The carriage offered none of those
pleasures, just plain, monotone movement, corrupting softness,
and chaining walls on all sides. An understanding glance from one
of Anya's guard told her that despite all efforts her anguish was quite
visible, so she resigned to trying to cover it. Even if she could feel
how she failed miserably, trying gave her something else to think about
but the slight sounds of the wheels against the dirt of the road.

Castle Belinum was surrounded by simple houses and fields for
miles around, and was formed exclusively or heavy, hard grey 
stone, and seemed both huge and impregnable, yet stagnant and
clumsy compared to the mobile or concealable constructions Anya
was more used to. The idea of such made her think of a dungeon
for criminals more than the stories of royalty she had been told
long ago... she felt entrapped, and found herself wondering why
anyone would build a cave for himself of dead stone while living 
as a part of life was also a choice. Perhaps in Drael, there was no
such choice. Despite her lack of comfort, Anya found herself touched
with pity for the plain dwellers, until she reminded herself that
such would become her fate as well with her forced marriage to Lord
Derek of Drael, Master of Castle Belinum.

The creaking wheels took her through the peasant's village,
along a dirt road, covered with signs of life - recent signs. As
the carriage moved through the village, all the sounds to be
heard were made by animals; not one laughing child, not one baby
crying, not one merchant babbling about his goods: just the
neighing of a horse somewhere, and the sad quacking of a lonely
duck. But the windows were another matter. Anya spied them, and 
noted many a guarded gaze looking down on her convoy. And many a
gaze of pure, unveiled, impotent hatred. Anya felt hurt and
confused for the reaction, deciding to find out the reason for it.

The castle was even more impressive from up close than from a 
distance. While the walls were bare of ornaments, they looked
sturdy, and were decorated by numerous chippings and cuts, as a
veteran mercenary's face: marked, yet invincible; powerful, yet
cruel with the unblinking gaze of a killer, free from any display
of mercy or even civilness. Compared to the outer image of martial
lethality the inner image was stunningly different. A troop of
soldiers were standing in attention in plate armours on either side
of the gate. From somewhere close by, music sounded, playing a lively
fanfare with mechanic precision, perfect, yet macabre in its
lifelessness.

The carriage stopped, the convoy moved away, except for Anya's
own three guards. Anya left the carriage, and began to proceed the
aisle between the rows of warriors, her own guards in tight
formation behind her.

Suddenly, from the midst of glinting steel, a girl of maybe five
years of age, dressed in a spotless cotton robe, moved to Anya,
bearing flowers. She in turn welcomed Anya:

"This is a gift from the villagers. We welcome you to our midst in
love and in friendship, in days of sorrow as well as joy, Lady Anya."

The girl's features were smiling, yet in a forced, well-rehearsed way,
with all the formal composure of the words of the ancient phrase.
Anya's hesitation almost broke her composure, bringing the look of a
deer who knows she's been caught to her eyes, the look of raw fear, 
enhanced by a single drop of sweat on her forehead. Anya forced herself
to smile, then replied

"I'm honored by your gift, and bear only love in my heart for the
village and her people. I hope to be able to repay for your kindness
with my own."

That having been said, the girl fled back into the ranks of the 
warriors, moving fast, almost tripping on the way. Anya watched her
go, and for some reason, she felt sick to the roots of her heart.
She watched the line of polished armor where the girl had disappeared
for a while, wondering whether she would be destined to share her fate...
then looked ahead, seeing a man approach, smiling, his arms open in
welcome. An athletic fellow, with stingingly blue eyes and blond hair,
moustache, medium build, perhaps a bit taller than average, but not
much. A scar an inch below his left eye made his squint a bit, ruining
his otherwise near-perfect features to some extent, yet bringing a
strange appeal as well. As he approached, Anya noted how the honor guard
on either side made their rigid attention even more rigid than before.
The man opened the speech by saying in his melodic, controlled voice

"Welcome to my castle, Lady Anya. I hope you find your life here on my
side pleasant.", enhancing the effect with a winning smile. 

Anya replied in like pleasantries, keeping to the protocol, and noted
she found the lord of the castle appealing, and seemingly trustworthy,
without the mechanic covering of emotion of the girl and the music.
Disturbed, she began to desperately wish for some time to assort her
thoughts and feelings, and asked to be permitted to resign to her
would-be quarters to rest, claiming to be tired from the voyage. Not a
total lie, she admitted to herself, as two guards and a servant bade her
to follow them to her quarters.

The servant, a beautiful brunette in her early twenties, kept her eyes
low the entire time, and lead Anya to a surprisingly spacious chamber
overlooking the courtyard. Not until she had shown Anya her room, and
the guards had departed, did she speak the first words.

"Your quarters, Lady Anya. Should you find yourself in need of something,
hesitate not to call on my services. I'm Catherine, your Lady-in-Waiting,
until you or the Lord decides otherwise. The two guards outside the door
are yours to command as well, and commanded to protect you with their lives
if need be. If you wish, you can have your own men as your guards most of
the time... oh, one more thing. The Box." 

Catherine pointed at a handsome wooden box, measuring about 12"x4"x1",
then handed over an ornate key, apparently steel with an inset gem Anya
couldn't recognize... a pink stone, fairly large, well cut.

"The Box is yours to guard, this key to it one of just two that fit, mylady.
However, the Lord has seen it fit to order that only he should open it, and
asked me to advice against yielding to curiosity."

Catherine backed out of the door, leaving the new Lady of the House - or
the girl two weeks short of becoming the Lady, Anya reminded herself - to
her thoughts, which currently centered on a small box of polished oak, which
she kept glancing, fingering the key. Anya wondered how long she could
keep herself from opening the Box... and what the consequences for so
doing might be. A memory from the courtyard caused her to shudder... then,
with a sigh, she inserted the key, half-way only, and the fight between
her curiosity and self-discipline began.
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