Quinlen (Part 1)

Quinlen’s story started in Balingrad, 400 miles East of Luith, where she was born. Quinlen Joy was a young girl of noble birth. Her father had a seat on the high council advising the King. Her father’s family had been close to the Royal family for generations but King Arter’s decision to put him on the council was not a favour but an insightful decision.

Quinlen’s mother was known as the Queen of Fashion in Balingrad. A nickname the nobles had fashioned for her after seeing her work with rich materials like Silk, Velvet and Satin. She provided the household’s income and looked after Quinlen, while her father aided the King, which allowed them to take up residency in the castle. Her mother was a much bigger part of her life than her father. She cared for her from the afternoon to the evening while she would say her father was “taking care of important business.” She would huff in annoyance to respond. The novelty of that phrase had worn off many years ago.

Although she didn’t like being away from her parents there was enough to distract her in the castle. She took advantage of her parent’s power, getting guards to do what she wanted by simply saying her father was a friend of the King’s[1] . She would find wooden training swords to poke and prod at the guards during the day, whilst at night if she couldn’t sleep, she would sneak out of her room to speak to Romin. He was the residency guard assigned to their quarters and he had been ever since Quinlen was a baby. Romin was not like the other guards, he did not care for his duties over anything else and he was very friendly towards Quinlen and her mother. He was the only guard that called her mother “Mori” instead of “My lady”.

On nights where Quinlen would try to sleep she started to experience horrible nightmares. In her dreams she would rest on a dark cloud where she could not move. She would hear alien screams and gargles right next to her ears that would unsettle her and make her sweat. Before long she would start to hear a few words repeating, “I am Ysylmid. I am everywhere.” While the loop continued a large shadow would watch over her, with a purple fire in its eyes. Every time she would awake either her Mother or Romin would be at her bedside saying she had been screaming and crying. She felt safer when it was Romin as she knew he could protect her from anything, with his sword at his hip. When she told him how she felt he simply said “Well maybe it is time I teach you how to use your own sword, Quinny. Your first lesson is tomorrow meet me outside your room at midday but don’t tell anyone,” he followed that with a wink and a soft smile before stroking her hair gently and singing softly to send her off to sleep.

Quinlen spent all morning buzzing about her first lesson but the reality of it was hard. Once she had met with Romin they sneaked around the castle trying to find a peaceful spot to practice. Romin was the only one who played with her properly and it always made her day. After realising how busy the castle really was, Romin turned to Quinlen and said, “How badly do you want to learn, Quinny?”

“Why?” she said cocking her eyebrow at him.

“I have somewhere I can take you, but it might smell a bit,” he gestured with a wave of his hand by his nose. “ We can take a torch and move through the castle tunnels to an opening in the sewer, that’s where all the guards used to drink on duty,” Romin laughed as he nodded his head to the left down another corridor that ended in a spiral staircase. At the top of the staircase lay a lit torch in a sconce flickering gently from the breeze blowing through the castle. “Follow me!” Romin shouted before setting off at a jog, Quinlen followed right on his heels laughing all the way. Before they plunged down the spiral stairs, Romin swiped the torch from its sconce, leading the way. Her eyes started to water at the stench that was being blown up with the breeze, but she didn’t care, she was having too much fun. All her nightmare fears had gone, and for the moment she was content.

Once reaching the bottom of the staircase, they travelled through several eerie tunnels before getting to a large clearing where the air felt a lot cooler and less stuffy than the tunnels. The patter of Romin’s heavy plate armour echoed around the room, as he circled it to light the torches surrounding the room. One by one the fires came alive, giving the room a vibrant orange glow. He lay the torch in the corner before moving to the centre of the room and placing the two training swords on the ground. “Pick it up,” he ordered. “I will show you how to hold it,” he said, his voice softening. He tilted the hilt of his sword towards her, angling it under the light so she could see his grip. He came closer to adjust her hand on the grip, she laughed as he wrapped his hand around hers, she felt safe.

As he waltzed to the other side of the room, swinging his sword from left to right to stretch out his arm he said, “Your first lesson is to learn that using a sword is more than just the fight. Look at me.” He gave her an intense stare and it made her cringe. “Do not give away your emotions like you did, your enemy can read the expressions on your face. If they sense fear, they pounce!” he yelped as he leaped towards her. She instinctively put up her sword, but his strike was too fierce and cut through her block knocking her to the ground.

Quinlen rubbed her shoulder where the sword had connected. “That hurt, take it a little easier on me,” she whined.

Romin leant his sword against one of the sewer’s supports and lent her a hand up. “Listen to me child. Nobody in this world will take it easy on you. If you wish to survive you must be willing to learn. Pain and humiliation are good motivators,” he said with a chuckle as he tapped her gently on the leg with her sword he had retrieved from the floor. “Now come on, there is more work to be done today.”

She trusted Romin so she continued the session and although she received a few bumps and bruises she started to improve very quickly. The sword was heavy at first but Quinlen was determined to push through; the nightmares she was trying to escape provided her with an almost maniacal focus. Quinlen managed to land some satisfying blows on Romin before the end of the session and he seemed impressed, even though she knew he was taking it easy on her.

After Romin concluded the session he returned Quinlen to her room where she stayed for the rest of the evening. Her only company was the maids bringing her supper; A fruit and nut roast that was heavily spiced. The spice warmed her up inside and helped her ignore the howling winds outside, while a fire in her room’s hearth gave her a soothing crackling to replace the howl. She looked deep into the fire. The mesmerizing glow was soon replaced with a sinister, dark, purple hue that unsettled her. The fire roared and exploded with energy, she backed off to avoid getting burnt but a lick of the purple flame sliced up her cheek leaving her with a distinctive purple moon shaped scar. As she reeled in the corner, she tried to scream for help, but nothing came out of her mouth. A figure started to appear in the fire. The same black shadowy figure that she had seen in her dreams, in her head she ran through what Romin had told her. The shadowy figure began to chant words she had heard in her dreams “Ysylmid” she heard and “I am everywhere.” She recalled Romin’s words “Do not give away your emotions,” so she collected herself and stood up from the corner. She approached the fire and it began to rage more; purple swirls of flame spat from the fire towards her, but she just let them embrace her. Soon her clothes were ablaze, and the fire became so bright she had to close her eyes.

Quinlen awoke to her mother shaking her with tears in her eyes. Behind her stood her Father and Romin. “You were screaming child,” her mother said stroking Quinlen’s hair out of her face. As she stroked some aside her mother saw the purple scar on her cheek and froze. “What happened to you? What is this ghastly scar on your face child?!” she said, this time with anger.

“I don’t know,” she said dazed, “I think I was dreaming, but it felt so real,” tears started to form around her eyes as she remembered.

Her father came over and abruptly slapped her hard across her clean cheek. “You have ruined your beauty, child. How am I supposed to present you at the debutant ball? Us nobles….” He blathered on but Quinlen did not listen she only looked at Romin for approval as it seemed her parents didn’t care about her troubles. He smiled back at her and suddenly everything seemed okay until her father grabbed her chin and turned her back to face him. “The ball is in two weeks and there is no way I can cover up this monstrosity!” he said waving his hand at her face. Quinlen was getting tired of the hurtful words, all she could think to herself is how little her father was in her life and how little he cared about her. The tiredness turned to frustration in an instant. Quinlen went straight for her father’s face with her nails, clawing and punching. He pulled her hands away with a tight grip, so she thrusted a foot straight into his groin. As he dropped to the floor, she leapt out of bed and ran.

Quinlen ran as fast as she could, the wind sweeping through her hair as she seemed to run through an endless maze of corridors. However, she had run these halls since she could walk. Her memory didn’t fail her and half an hour later she found exactly what she was looking for. She could see the top of the spiral staircase but no torch in the sconce. She put on a brave face and took the steps slowly as she declined. The heat of the stuffy tunnels brought beads of sweat to her face. As they dripped down her face, she could hear the hiss of water dripping on heat. She touched her scar and it seemed to be radiating some sort of warmth. She touched it once more and a dull purple light started to generate from it. A low humming noise came from the light and as she walked it seemed to get a little brighter.

There was a burning curiosity in her to find out what connected the dreams to the scar or whether they were even dreams at all. It bugged her because everything seemed so real, but she wasn’t sure what she had lived and what she had dreamed. As she wandered through the tunnels, s[2] he contemplated what she had done. Although she had hurt her dad, she didn’t feel any remorse. She knew it would have felt different if it was Romin. He was more of a father to her than her dad had been for most of her life. Romin had always made sure her and her mother were safe. Quinlen felt, now more than ever, that family was the most important thing and that she could trust Romin. She turned on her heel and started to walk back.

After wandering for a few minutes, she began to hear the distinctive ping of the guard’s heavy plate armour shifting as they moved down the corridor towards her. Quinlen thought that maybe it would be guards sent by her father but even so, she was not worried. She would not wear her emotions on her sleeve, Romin’s words always rang true in her head. As the figure approached, the purple hue of her scar illuminated their face. A familiar face. A typically square jaw, uneven stubble, a crooked nose and his mesmerizing amber eyes. “Romin!” Quinlen yelped running over for a cuddle. She looked up into his eyes and saw a smile stretch across his lips. Every time she saw the smile her heart was filled with joy and any doubts in her head were removed, in those moments she felt nothing but happiness.

“Quinny, come with me. We must go see your father,” he said. As he spoke the smile slowly disappeared from his face and was replaced by a grave stare into the ground.

Quinlen waved her hand in front of his eyes to catch his attention. She stroked his face gently before wrapping her hand in his. “What’s wrong?”

“This,” he said touching the scar on her cheek gently and flashing her a worried glance. “When I was younger, I lived in a village outside the city walls. A travelling merchant stopped off on the way to Balingrad. He too, had a scar like yours on his arm, not moon shaped but purple all the same. It had an energy almost as if the scar was alive…” he paused for a second, trying to stifle the cracks in his voice as he began to cry. “Just like yours,” he pointed once again at her scare and then waved his hand to gesture at the dim purple light it was producing. “This energy it comes from somewhere, a deep and dark place.”

“How do you know? Maybe it’s just a burn scar.” Quinlen said with a worried tremble in her voice.

“I have never seen anybody else scar like that, from burns or from battle wounds, it’s not natural.” He replied covering his mouth for a second. “That merchant set my village ablaze with a purple fire that lit up the night sky. The only survivors were me and a few other boys who had gone down to play by the lake. We saw the light and thought maybe there was a party. We thought maybe Taison had brought his coloured powders to throw in the fire. Instead we returned to a field of purple ash. It was a fire that burnt all and left nothing.” He crinkled his cheeks as tears rolled down them. Quinlen squeezed his hand then turned and gave him another hug. She ripped some fabric off her night gown and gave it to Romin to use as a tissue. He gladly accepted and flashed her another smile before taking her hand again. “Let us go see your father. Whatever happens, I will support you.”

Her father and mother were waiting in her chambers. When she walked in her mother ran over and hugged her whilst tears rolled down her cheeks. Her father sat still and stoic; a blank face that portrayed almost no emotion. His blue steely eyes stared her down over her mother’s shoulder, she couldn’t tell if it was anger, hate or hurt. Next to her father, however, was an unfamiliar face. A young man with long blonde locks that fell to his chin with distinctive green eyes that shone in his deep sockets. He wore a long plain sandy robe and carried several books with symbols that Quinlen had never seen before. He had a handsome friendly face, but she was unsettled by his presence.

“Hello Miss Joy,” he said softly reaching out a hand. She shook it quickly then pulled her hand away. “My name is Paslin. I am a Druid healer and your father brought me in to assess your condition.”

“My condition?!” Quinlen said sounding offended. “I have been having nightmares. None of this is my fault. This scar, these dreams. I don’t understand any of it.”

“And I am here to help Miss Joy. That scar on your face can only spell trouble. An uprising of dark powers. It has been a long time since they have decided to act in such a public way. Which only gets worse for us.” He rubbed his stubbly chin. Quinlen could hear the brushing noise it made; the room was silent.

Before he could speak again Quinlen jumped in “What are these dark powers?”

He sighed and rose from his seat to approach her. He reached out a hand towards her cheek but waited for her nod of approval to follow through. She nodded but watched him as he did what he did. He stroked her scar gently “You have been marked child. The forces of death are wishing for you to fight by their side. As a druid I can be your lifeline. We have never caught a disciple before they are turned-.”

“Turned?!” Quinlen snuck in abruptly, “What do you mean by turned?” Her fear put a tremble in her words.

“We do not have much information as their syndicate works mainly in the shadows, only a few events have been recorded of their… actions.” He paused for a moment staring at the ground as if he was visualising things he had seen. “Because there is little information, we do not know how much time we have. I need you to come with me to my homeland, Luith.”

“Where the Great Willow stands?!” Both her and Romin chimed in excitedly.

“Yes, children,” Paslin gestured at Romin and laughed.

“I wish to go with the child to keep her safe,” Romin said with an assertive tone facing Quinlen’s parents.

“We cannot let you leave, the less that people know about this the better. Quinlen I don’t want you becoming a social pariah before the debutant ball,” her father ordered.

“This is life or death, Father.” Quinlen said with tears rolling down her cheeks. “Do you really care more about your reputation than you do about your own daughter?!” she said, anger bubbling through her previously calm demeanour.

“Calm down Quinlen!” His words cut through the background noise and silenced everyone. They all seemed attentive apart from Quinlen who tried to cut in. Her father’s words cut through hers. “This is just a blip on our family’s road to greatness. All I do I am doing for you.” He said softly, exasperation in his voice as he tried to keep the situation calm.

Paslin rose from his seat once again to try and emphasise the problem at hand. “We do not have the time for this. We must leave for Luith immediately.”

“If you ever did anything for me father, I would feel like I know you, but I don’t at all. Romin has been more of a father to me my entire life!” she shouted coldly. “Let him come. Can’t you see I’m in danger?”

Her father stared at her blankly, as if he was trying to process what she had told him in his cold heart. “For the last time, I am not allowing Romin to leave the castle. The other guards will notice, and guards talk. You will be rich and happy one day daughter and your family will be powerful.”

“If my powerful family will be anything like this, I hope it doesn’t happen. I’m perfectly capable of being powerful on my own,” her voice was rising in volume with her increasing frustration. She could feel her blood almost at a boil but as she looked around, she noticed everyone staring at her. “What?” she said feeling at her face where everyone was staring. A purple glow shone on her hand and she paused for a moment. She looked up at Paslin questioningly who just shrugged back at her. It seemed her life was in danger and nobody had a clue what was going on. Finally, her situation became clear, “I should do this on my own,” she said softly.

Paslin gave a sudden flinch of shock. “Girl, you are not stupid. I know this. I am your best bet of getting to Luith alive and nothing will be done if you go there alone. No druid would touch you if they saw that on your face, hell, they might even kill you.” His voice trailed off as his words got graver. “Romin will not be allowed to come with us. We must leave.” Paslin grabbed her hand and pulled her in close, Romin put an ironclad hand in between the two of them and stared the druid down but, the druid’s sense of urgency overtook him, and he pushed Romin back and pulled the child in once more. “We must leave child or things will get much worse for you. I promise you I am only here to help but I cannot do so if the dark power begins to corrupt you, we must leave.” The steely look that he was giving her scared her. She nodded whilst her mind was away thinking of how uncertain her future was. “I’m sorry about this,” he said.

“Sorry about what?” she asked, confused.

He waved his hand in front of her face, a strange gas began to emit from under Paslin’s fingernails. It shot up her nostrils without her even breathing it in as if it was invading her system. Within a minute she felt drowsy and her vision was beginning to blur. Another minute later she was out cold and her journey to Luith had begun.