Shades of Errol Flynn - Prologue

A new chapter of this draft serial will be posted every Wednesday. Your comments are always welcome!

The room was dark and cold, despite the fire in the stone fireplace. An untouched dinner tray sat on a small wooden table, beside which lay several empty wine bottles.

“Kiranthus, you must move beyond your grief. It would please Anakaron greatly to see you in your present state.”

There was no response from the man who sat in the enormous wing chair facing the fire. Paranithel sighed, then motioned to the servants waiting in the doorway.

Landon entered carrying a cradle, which was placed close enough to the fire for warmth, far enough away that it was safe from stray sparks. He was followed by the housekeeper who was carrying a baby. With a disapproving look at Paranithel, she placed the baby in the cradle. Paranithel gestured and the servants followed him out of the room.

For a long while the only sound was the snap and crackle of the fire. Soon, faint snufflings were heard from the cradle, building into a strong, wailing cry.

The sound at first annoyed Kiranthus, then angered him. Why did someone not come and remove the child? Stubbornly, he ignored it.

When a note of real distress crept into the baby’s cries he could stand it no longer.

“Paranithel, send for the child’s nursemaid. Paran!” Kiranthus pushed himself up out of his chair and strode to the door. “Paran? Landon? Someone come and see to this child!”

There was no answer. Kiranthus stalked over to the cradle and stared down at the baby, fists clenched.

He paced back to the door, but the corridor was empty. The wailing from the cradle continued. Kiranthus went back to the cradle and finally reached down and picked the baby up.

His hold was awkward, his hands trembled. As he nestled the baby snuggly in the crook of his arm its cries dwindled. It looked up at him with big, blue eyes, wet with tears.

Kiranthus was mesmerized. “You have her eyes,” he whispered.

When Paranithel looked in much later, he was relieved to see Kiranthus asleep in the chair, the baby still tucked safely in his arms. He hated to disturb them, but already too much time had passed.

“Kiranthus,” he said gently. “You must wake and make plans.”

Kiranthus stirred and looked up, “Plans?”

“Do you really believe Anankaron will rest with Farena’s death?”

A shadow of grief touched Kiranthus’ face. “Anankaron must be stopped.”

“He must first be found. Meanwhile, there is the babe to be considered.”

Kiranthus looked down at the sleeping baby. “Without Farena . . . Paran, what am I to do?”

“She must go to a safe haven.”

“Is there such a place?”

“I believe I have found one. Come with me.”

Kiranthus laid the still sleeping baby back in the cradle and followed him down into the lower levels of the Keep. He was unable to suppress a shiver as Panaithel removed the wards set on the heavy oaken door of his work room.

There was a scrying pool set in the center of the room, a circular hollow lined with black tile. It was bordered by polished crystalline stones that reflected back the light from the flickering torches ensconced on the walls.

They knelt at its edge. Paranithel chanted under his breath and passed his hands over the water. It stirred, and when the surface was still again a vision appeared.

“I had hoped to send both Farena and the child to this place,” Paranithel said. “It is a world of little magic, there is no reason for Anankaron to seek it out.”

“It seems a most cold and inhospitable place,” Kiranthus said finally.

“There is much good to be found as well. There, that woman,” Paranithel pointed. “She has suffered the loss of both husband and child. She would be an ideal foster-mother.”

“I must think on this,” Kiranthus said, standing upright again.

“There is no time!” Paranithel said fiercely. “You have wallowed in your grief for weeks. Ananakaron could strike at any time and I have not the means to protect you. Farenalyssia may have been your wife, but she was my daughter. I will not let Anankaron take her child as well!”

Kiranthus sagged against the wall, “What must I do?”

“Leave. Tonight, if possible. It will distract Anankaron long enough for me to take the child to safety.”

“But. . .”

“To world walk takes an enormous amount of magical energy. Anankaron will know what is happening but will not think me worth the trouble of retrieving.” Paranithel griped the younger man’s shoulder. “Son of my heart, I understand your pain, but it is the only way. When I return I will journey to the Southern Continent. There are many ways for a man to become lost there. Who knows, perhaps I may even open a school for those Southerners with the Gift.”

“Gift,” Kiranthus said bitterly. “It is no gift when it brings such destruction.”

“When you are able, journey southward to me. Together we may find a way to defeat Anankaron and bring your daughter home.”

Kiranthus removed a thin gold chain from around his neck. At its end dangled a milky white disk, carved with a magical symbol of good fortune.

“This was Farena’s first gift to me,” he said. “I leave it in your keeping for our child.”

Paranithel took it from him. There were tears in his eyes as he watched Kiranthus turn and leave.