The Imeline Star

Prologue

A city waits in fear.

This was not the first attack from the Barbarian hordes but, from the sound of the drums that had just started to pound and the angry shouts and cries, it was likely to be the worst. The Barbarians, led by their Lassian masters were fierce and merciless. Their last attack had been only a month ago and the village's defences were severely depleted. Many had been killed that day and more would die before the sun set.

After the last raid the King had doubled his scouts to give clear warning of any movement from the North. It had proved a sound move. The previous evening, one of his scouts had returned with knowledge that the barbarians had been rallied and were marching to attack.

Preparations had been made and within the city's sturdy walls the villagers from the surrounding lands sought refuge. The women and children had, by the king's command, been ushered into the castle's underground passageways and the great gates had been barricaded. All able bodied soldiers and peasants alike, were given weapons, or used what ever they could find, shovels, hammers, hoes...

The barbarians were a fierce force to reckon with and from the report of their massed numbers, it would take a miracle, to keep them from the city.
   
Dusk was fast approaching and a sense of dread hung in the hot, humid air. The woodland city of Glogarn held its breath.
 
   
“May God protect you, my love.” King Hadan kissed his wife, knowing it could be for the last time.

“I love you! Please... be careful.” her voice cracked with emotion.

“I will return, I promise!” He kissed the small baby his wife held tightly in her arms. His son was too small to understand such things as war, and he prayed that the child would never have to learn of it.  He kissed his wife goodbye, then he closed the thick wooden door, which she proceeded to lock and bolt from within.

She climbed down the small winding staircase to join the other women and children who were waiting, frightened, in the near-dark. Panic soared among them as the horns of the enemy sounded loud and clear from the North. It had begun.

The warning bell rang out loud and clear as the king drew his sword, the sword of his fathers, from its sheath. He was joined by his six blue-coated knights, all  of whom had served him well in his years as king: he considered them friends .

A sea of arrows came raining down upon the guards at the gate. Many men screamed out in pain, tumbling crumpled to the ground, the first to die.

“Get back!” Captain Yolter cried out. No one hesitated to obey his orders. The king watched proudly, as a volley of his men's arrows flew in retaliation. There were a number of bombardments before some of the Barbarians armed with ladders and swords tried to scale the castle walls. The men waiting on the walls dislodged what ladders they could, and proceeded to kill those who managed to breech the defence.

Suddenly a loud crack deafened the city as great battering rams started to assault the gates. The barricade was not holding and many men tried to brace it with what wood they could find.

With a splintering shatter the gates were thrust open and great swarms of angry, fierce fighters streamed into the void, wielding jagged axes and rusty swords. The Barbarians and the Lassians had but one mind, to kill all that they found.

King Haden, flanked by his six royal guards, fought with the strength of ten men. He cut down man after man, if you could call the Barbarians men, delaying the inevitable for as long as he could, but it would not be enough. He knew they were grossly outnumbered. Many of his finest soldiers now lay dead around him and the two he could see still fighting were badly wounded. This was nothing but a massacre. He had failed his people.

The king battled with a snake headed Lassian, matching his sword blow for blow when a single arrow from an unseen bow pierced his shoulder, he was knocked back but managed to stab the Lassian he was fighting through the chest. He took no pleasure in watching him die. He glanced down at his wound, looking at the arrow with detachment, knowing it was not supposed to be there... Then he felt the surge of pain, a pain so intense that it drove him to the ground in agony and there he lay, wounded, until a Lassian monster thrust a sword through his noble heart. His last thoughts and hopes lay with his wife, he prayed that she would manage to escape.

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The door was hit, hard. It was not the sound of a victorious knock but the angry pounding of men trying to break through the door.

Queen Nadal had been afraid of this; the sounds from above had not been favourable. She pushed aside the heart wrenching pain of knowing that her beloved husband was dead, there was no time.
   
“To the tunnels!” she cried as the scared women and children whimpered. “Follow me! We'll have to run for it!”She looked around at their frightened faces, trying to inspire in them a confidence she did not posses herself.

“At the surface spread out, they will find it hard to catch us all.”

She knew that their chance of escape was slim.

“Head for the monastery by the old road of lincolme, I am sure that we will find help there.”

As she spoke they raced through the twists and turns of the passageways, with only the faint flickers of their dying torches lighting the way.

At the door she took a deep steadying breath. The forest formed a wide circle around the castle, they would come out under the east wall. The trees would provide some cover to aid their escape.

Babe wrapped close to her chest she fled. She could tell the others were following her example, running with all their might. Faintly in the distance she heard the shouts of angry voices and her hope sank. Their flight had not gone unnoticed.
   
Queen Nadal ran swiftly, her thin cloak whipping behind her as arrows went whizzing past her head.  The darkness left behind shadowed her path and fear coursed through her veins. The enemy was on her trail. She ran with death at her heels along the winding paths of the Ashen woods. Her dark hair streamed behind her like black smoke. They were coming. She held her son close, she would kill anyone who tried to hurt him! She was comforted by the cold feel of her dagger at her thigh.
   
The horns sounded loudly, twigs and leaves lashed at her, scratching and biting, drawing lines of crimson across her pale skin. Suddenly her foot slipped and she half fell, half tumbled down a short muddy bank. She landed in a heap of ferns at the bottom. She struggled, but managed to get to her feet again, there was no rest. Her heart pounded and her delicate face was drenched in sweat, the rabid dogs were barking ferociously, the dreaded sound drawing ever closer. She realised that in cushioning the fall for the child, she had broken her wrist. It burned with a white fire making her eyes sting. She adjusted her load; he was not heavy. Leaping from the path she made a direct line east, running into the deeper, dense trees. She could barely breath now... It would not be long before they caught her...

She ran with all her strength, stumbling on the uneven ground but pushing blindly on.

Collapsing to the ground she sat. Her vision blurred and her veins pulsed with blood. It was only after a minute that she saw it, a deep hollow at the base of one of the trees. It was not wide enough for her but just big enough...    

She staggered to her feet, picking up and cradling the child to her.

“Live, my sweet.”

She kissed her child's head, knowing she would never see him again. She lowered the infant gently inside the hollow. The baby made a small noise, his innocent face looked up trustingly. Tears ran down the queen's face as she covered the opening with a few handfuls of dry brown leaves and twigs. She turned and with a heavy heart ran southward. If they did catch her now only one life would be forfeit. She prayed with all her might that her son would not be discovered.