Working Title - 'Myrriddyon'

Chapter 1

For nine hundred years the edifice known as the Myrriddyon had stood at the edge of it’s cliff, overlooking the vast western sea. The keeps colossal, gray stone defenses gave evidence to the passage of time, and the yearly storms that ravaged the coastline upon which it stood. Though pockmarked and weathered, they held firm against everything the Gods hurled at them, and remained whole.

It was a commonly held belief amongst the people of Tryndarran that the Myrriddyon gave some of it’s immeasurable strength to those who studied within the keeps walls, and it was certainly true that those who gained the title of Myrriddya were sought for their great skill and training in their respective fields.

Those who came out of the Myrriddyon were thought to be neutral in all things. Once someone entered the great keep, their old loyalties were cast aside, and replaced with a loyalty to the keep and her children alone. It mattered not who they had been before; prince or pauper, noble or common, the Myrriddyon took all comers. As long as the child was between the ages of six and ten, they would be admitted, and instilled into them would be a new sense of honor and dedication through hard work and rigorous training.

Not all who came to the keep became Myrriddya. Those who did not succeed usually left, but even these former children were prized for their skills. It was one such former child of the Myrriddyon who now ruled the keep.

The sixteenth High Master, Vu’shen Myrriddya Callen, sat on the edge of her chair, leaning forward to warm cold hands, stiff and painful with advancing age. She had ruled the keep for almost seventy years now. Strange to think that when she had first stepped foot across it’s threshold, she had been filled with rage that her father, King Jarell of Tyrenn, had sent her here. She sat back in her chair, chuckling to herself as she recalled all the plots and schemes she had employed to get herself thrown out. Finally, the High Master at the time, a Kyrenn Myrriddya healer, had given up any hope of training the unruly child she had been, and had granted her wish.

The events that had led to her return, and eventual rise to High Master were now the stuff of legend, and to her, a distant memory.

"You've got that far away look again Master."

Callen looked across the room to the door which stood open, framing her young niece.

"Just thinking of the past, Morren," she said, and then made a tutting sound, annoyed at herself as she instantly realised that she had mistakenly called Calhavi by her dead mother’s name. A sympathetic smile crossed Calhavi’s face.

"I’m so sorry, Calhavi," Callen said. "You look so much like your mother and my eyes are not what they used to be."

Calhavi came to the high wingbacked chair opposite her aunt, and regarded the woman thoughtfully for a moment. "It's alright Master," she said soothingly. "A simple enough mistake to make." And it was, she told herself. That Callen had begun to make it frequently however, often not catching herself out for several minutes, worried Calhavi more and more. She had tried to deny that Callen, her aunt and Master, the woman she had been named for, was slowly succumbing to the ravages of time. But over the last few days, she had come to realise that it was time to advise the Myrriddyon Masters Council of the situation. It was her duty as a student of the keep.

Callen tapped Calhavi's knee with her long, gnarled staff of office. "Wake up girl." she commanded, sounding once again like the woman Calhavi loved and respected. "Haven't I told you often enough where daydreaming would get you."

Calhavi nodded, slipping easily back into the role of favored student, rather than concerned niece. "Yes Master." she replied. "I'm sorry."

"And so you should be." Callen continued to chide her. "Now, what brings you unsummoned to my chambers?"

Calhavi sat forward, and pulled a somewhat crumpled piece of folded parchment from the pouch at her side. She handed it wordlessly to Callen, who examined first the state of the parchment, and then the seal it bore on the back. A frown deepened the creases in Callen's lined fore head, and was gone again almost instantly, but not quickly enough that Calhavi did not note it.

"How long ago did this arrive Calhavi?"

"It came by messenger Master. I brought it directly to you."

"You took note of the seal I trust."

It was Calhavi's turn to nod, her face neutral, displaying no emotion. The missive had come from her cousin Jarev, heir to the throne of Tyrenn. She did not know the contents of the letter, but it was the first time Jarev had contacted their mutual aunt. The relationship between the Myrriddyon and the Tyrennese royal house had been strained since Callen had persuaded Calhavi to leave the court and come to the Keep to study.

Callen turned the unopened parchment over in her hand. "I'm assuming that it was not in such a state when it arrived."

"No." Calhavi replied honestly. Callen would have spotted a lie.

"Then I also assume that the spell I taught you is beginning to wear off your bag." Callen said, sounding somewhat peevish as she turned the parchment back over once more. "How much yarwood root did you use?"

A smile crossed Calhavi's lips once again, soothing away some of her worries. It was a favored game of her aunt, to give her slightly incorrect instructions for a spell, potion, or charm, and berate her when the effects wore off early, or went wrong. The misdirection would never cause serious harm, but it encouraged Calhavi to further research the task herself, and to experiment till she had perfected it. In the process, Calhavi would often discover a wholly different, but very useful concoction, or effect, and would demonstrate this new learning to her aunt at the next possible opportunity. It was an unusual teaching method, to be certain, but an effective one that many of the Myrriddya teachers who had studied under Callen now utillised.

"Apparently, it was not enough Master."

"Or too much." her aunt replied quickly. "You will never become a Vu’shen Myrriddya if you don’t pay attention to your craft girl. Now, I suggest you take yourself off to the library and find out the appropriate amount."

Calhavi stood. "Yes Master." she said contritely, and quickly left her aunt alone, closing the chamber door behind her.

Callen waited patiently for several moments to allow Calhavi time to reach the bottom of the stairs. Once she sensed that enough time had passed, she turned her attention back to the letter. "So Jarev, you little snake, what have you to tell me." she said quietly to herself. Reaching a hand into her own pouch, Callen withdrew from it a long strip of mirrored glass encased in a wooden frame. A whispered charm activated the incantation embedded into the mirror. Callen broke open the royal seal of the Tyrennese kingdom, and unfolded the parchment, laying it on her lap so that she could pass the mirror over it. She would never admit to anyone that her eyesight was in fact so weak now, she could barely read anything written in the tiny scrawl that was so popular recently amongst the great kingdoms. The mirror's spell was one of her own invention, and it came in handy at times such as this.

Once it had been passed across the letter, Callen tossed the slip of glass into the air in front of her, where it hovered motionless for a moment. Then, around it, an image began to form. Within a few moments, the image had coalesced into the form of her nephew, prince Jarev, seated at his desk and bent over the very parchment she now held in her lap. As his image scratched a quill over the parchment, Jarev's voice rang clearly throughout the room, speaking the words he was writing.

"Dearest Aunt." he began, which caused Callen to wave a hand at the image, halting it's process whilst she chuckled mirthlessly to herself. If he had started with such a solicitous greeting, he was definitely after her to give him something, although she wasn't sure what just yet. She waved her hand in the opposite direction, and the image began to speak once more.

"It is with deepest regret that we write to inform you of our beloved and honorable fathers passing." her nephew continued. "As you are no doubt aware, he had been ill for some time. It brought great grief to all of our people of Tyrenn when he left us peacefully in his sleep this morning."

Again, Callen's hand split the air in front of her. So, Jarreyn, king of Tyrenn, had finally made his way across the Black River to Vanok's realm. Although Callen and her brother had thoroughly hated each other, she whispered a prayer for his soul to speed him safely across the river, and to steer him clear of the White Waters. She shuddered at the merest thought of that dread place. Not even her brothers soul deserved the fate that would await him if it entered there. After a moment, she allowed Jarev's image to continue.

"With heavy heart, we will ascend the throne in one months time, once the proper period of mourning has been observed."

"Heavy heart, my backside." Callen muttered. Jarev had hated his father more then she did. She had long suspected that her nephew had been the cause of Jarreyn's long illness. She had ever known anyone so anxious to gain control of power as Jarev. Her brother was older than she by a full ten years. He would surely have died soon anyway, without help from outside agents. Thoughts of her own mortality gave her pause for a moment, before she shrugged them away in annoyance. She was far from the river yet.

"We had spoken briefly with our honorable father the night before his passing. He was aware of his immanent demise it seemed, as he bade us to take note of his last request. It surprised us, as we are sure it will surprise you, that he requested his dearest sister, and his beloved niece, Princess Calhavi, to join us at Tyllian Keep. He wanted you and Calhavi to observe the mourning time with us in the country of your birth."

Jarev had been correct. That certainly did surprise Callen. Jarreyn's loathing of her, and her return of the feelings were common knowledge throughout the great kingdoms. She doubted very much that the request had come from his lips. This had the taste of Jarev's cunning about it. What could his purpose be, removing her from Myrriddyon, and causing her return to the kingdom she had not visited since the death of her sister Morren, twenty years past? She knew she should refuse, but the request piqued her curiosity.

"We anxiously await your arrival." Jarev continued. "We are sure that it was our father's hope, as it is our hope, that your visit will heal the rift that has existed between the Mirritheon..." Callen winced at the mispronunciation, which she was certain was intentional jibe, “...and our Kingdom these past thirteen years."

The letter finished with a list of Jarev's titles. The last, proclaiming him not as heir apparent, but as King of Tyrenn caused her eyebrow to raise in further surprise. Officially, Jarev had no right to claim that title until the period of mourning was over. Had Jarev simply snatched his fathers coronet from the dead kings not yet cold brow? Whether he had or not, to claim such a title was a clear indication that Jarev now had the power he had craved for so long, and he fully intended to use it. This invitation was just one example of the new king flexing his political muscle. As a ruling king, even if it was in name only, he had the right to request her presence at his keep. As sister of the dead king, she would be expected to be there when his body was commended to the waters. It would be considered an insult for Callen to refuse this command hidden in pretty words, and she had no wish to find a Tyrennese army camped outside her door demanding satisfaction.

Callen glanced at the image of her nephew, now frozen in mid air, and nodded in appreciation of his intellect. This was no mere boy she was dealing with, but a royal son of Tyrenn, with all the cunning and venom of his predescesors.

Speaking another incantation Callen canceled the previous spell on the mirror, and brought the shimmering glass sliver back to her hand. Once she had returned it to it’s place in her pouch, she reached for the bell pull which hung close by. A tug on this would cause the young student on duty at the bottom of the stairway to come running up to her chamber and see what she required.

When the knock came at her door, she called for the awaiting student to enter, and was pleased to see it was Shawan. He came into the room, panting heavily. She paid no mind to his discomfort.

"Ah, Shawan." she said impatiently. "Go find Calhavi will you. She'll be in the library in the potions section. Tell her I want to see her immediately."

Shawan acknowledged her order with a much practised bow and left the room. His running strides echoed up the stairwell behind him.