Prologue

Jemas and Iláena were married at Moren Urgên, Taldàna on the 6th of Flald in the year 647 DR. It was a large ceremony attended by all their cousins and neighbors and officiated by an elder from Kuron (a small village to the north). Jemas’ father used Iláena’s dowry to pay the local lord for a straight of land near his own. The lord was in good spirits that day and agreed to the paltry sum so long as the young couple would be able to farm the land and give the lord a “king’s share” for the first five years. The difficulty of this was not lost on Jemas’s father or the community, so everyone agreed that they would contribute to the couples’ yield until their land was established. Impressively, it took Jemas only two years to get his crops in order and by the final year he asked the lord for grazing land. The lord granted him this in exchange for a “king’s share” of wool and pork for the next eight years. Jemas agreed and was able to purchase a handful of sheep and some pigs in the spring of 653 DR.

In the six years of marriage, Jemas and Iláena were very happy. Amra had blessed them with three flaxen haired children, plenty of food and a supportive community. The farm was good and the sheep and pigs looked healthy. In a short time, Jemas had become a respected farm keeper and did his best to help out those around him, as his late father had done in his time. At summer’s eve Jemas was asked to come to Kuron and receive blessing at the shrine there. He was quickly becoming an important man in the Moren Urgên. All their hopes and dreams ended one night that summer.

Tragedy

All were asleep in the house when a rider was heard pulling his horse to a stop. Jemas awoke and rushed to the front door to find a tall man pulling a wrapped figure from his horse’s back. Jemas hailed the man who answered in broken Taládari, that he’d found this woman along the road and that her condition was grave. He asked if he could lay her near the hearth. Jemas ushered the man inside, calling to his wife to start some soup and tea for the woman and traveler. The man carried the limp bundle without effort into the house and lay her by the fireplace. Iláena quickly swung the kettle over the embers and tossed more wood onto the fire. From the back room, three young faces watched as their father pulled the blanket from the unconscious woman. The tall man returned into the night to retrieve something more. Iláena gasped when she saw the beautiful woman’s face battered and bruised. The gentlewoman jumped to her feet and ushered the children back to their beds, shutting the door behind them. While she closed the door she saw the traveler reappear in the doorway, his riding cloak pulled back to reveal a chainmailed chest. The man stepped into the room’s warm glow with a spear.

Iláena called out to her husband. As Jemas looked up, the spear’s haft struck him across the head sending him reeling into the corner. Iláena screamed. The children cried out. The traveler took another step forward, twirling the spear end-for-end before burying its point into the farmer’s head. Jemas twitched and grew very still. Iláena collapsed onto the floor.

When the gentlewoman awoke, the traveler was seated near the fire sipping tea next to a unfamiliar lady with unruly hair and wonderfully tailored robes. The injured woman was nowhere to be seen. The two talked in a tongue Iláena had never heard. The man noisily sipped at his cup and then knocked the empty kettle aside. He ordered her to retrieve more water. As she agreed to this, she could hear her children behind the door crying for her and Jemas again. They knew something was wrong, but they couldn’t guess what. She told them to be quiet and then grabbed a bucket and headed out toward the well. As she walked out into the darkness the scene repeated itself again and again in her mind. Twice she found herself dropping to her knees and weeping. How could this have happened? Why did this happen? Where were the baron’s men? Who were these bandits?

When she returned to the house the robed woman had entered the sleeping room and was speaking in a hushed voice to the children there. Iláena filled the kettle, placed it back on its hook and returned it to the fire. She then went to her husband’s side and put her arms around his cold shoulders. Some time passed and there was a knock. She looked around but saw no-one. The traveler, leaning back in his chair and drinking tea didn’t seem to have heard the sound. Iláena’s hopes dared grow. Moments later the ceiling creaked terribly and the the house timbers cracked and trembled in protest. In the loft a giant dark shape appeared and tore the thatch and frame from the roof. The traveler grabbed for his spear as the robed woman opened the door and rushed into the room. With a horrible roar the creature jumped into the dark sky above and unfurling large dark wings flapped off into the night. The spear-man rushed to the door but could not open it. This confused Iláena because the door had no lock. Behind the robed woman came the children running out to their mother only to stop midway and stare in horror at their father, crumpled in the corner. The robed woman climbed the loft ladder and in moments was gone. The spear-man threw his shoulder again and again into the stubborn door until it splintered open. He stumbled outward, regained his feet and raced to retrieve his horse which had fled into the fields at the sound of the flying monster. Iláena gathered her children together and ran them outside and down the hill toward the Ursun’s farm.

After some minutes they reached the cottage and banged on the door and window. The old farmer came to the door in his nightclothes and was quickly briefed on the night’s events. He yelled for his sons who were already awake. One was sent to the baron while the others slipped on boots and ran to the shed for hoes and shovels. Iláena and her children were ushered inside and into the back room with the farmer’s wife while he grabbed his grandfather’s short sword from above the fireplace. When his sons returned they ran out into the dark toward the Horstàlur place. Hours passed. Finally, the three returned at dawn with two of the baron’s men. The travelers were nowhere to be found.

That same day there was a gathering in the Morun Urgên, the size and composition of which was reminiscent of a day six years prior, when Iláena Horstàlur was a much happier woman. An elder came south from Korun to officiate and say farewell to a promising young man.

Written: 17 Nov 2002
This story is a tangent to the Oðári Tales. Dammon Shroudson burst into the thatched roof of the Horstàlur’s home in form of an Owler while rescuing the unconscious Tressta Drynsval. This brief meeting occurred in the Oðári Tales #60, Family Troubles.