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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

Aglanthol 3 - The Castle of Saelethiel (The Law Cannot Be Shaken) - 2. Chapter 2

Dusk had come. Magath was sitting on the wooden bench in Gwyn’s house. He had offered part of the maize to his neighbour. The old woman had invited him for dinner in return. Magath had gladly accepted. He sat silently, watching the woman. Gwyn covered the table. She placed mugs, a jug of water, corn bread and plates with scrambled eggs on the table. Then she sat down in a chair. She took a wooden fork, yet did not eat. She looked at Magath instead. Magath held a wooden spoon in his hand and gazed at the plate in front of him.

"Once again, please, Magath," Gwyn said. "What did Dran say? I am not sure I understood it correctly."

Magath looked up. He placed the spoon on the table, took a piece of bread and broke it.

"He said he had had an uneasy feeling in the afternoon. It had reminded him of that day in winter. He said something evil had been lurking out there that day. And he felt that the evil had returned," he said.

Gwyn looked into the room for a moment. Then she looked back at Magath.

"I do believe him," the old woman said seriously. "In all honesty, Magath, we have never returned to our normal lives, have we? I always felt as if I was waiting for something. I can’t really explain what I mean. A disturbing feeling, a sense of foreboding perhaps.

They exchanged a long look. Gwyn gave Magath a nod and smiled at him warmly.

"Eat, Magath," she said.

Magath looked at his plate for a second, and then he started to eat his scrambled eggs. Gwyn took a piece of bread. Yet, instead of eating it, she just held it in her hand. She looked at Magath’s plate, thinking.

"What is it, Magath?" she asked with concern.

Magath shrugged.

"I tried to convince myself that I was just waiting for Qildor’s return," he said.

He raised his eyes and looked at Gwyn. The old woman just looked back for a moment. Then she nodded in understanding.

"This feeling, however, did not disappear when Qildor came back. It had nothing to do with him," Magath carried on.

Gwyn nodded slowly.

"He came back three months ago," Magath continued. "He stayed with me and left only two weeks ago for the royal court to arrange a few things. He plans to come back and lead the fortress close to Tanmil. If his plan works out well, he will be back soon. I could feel at peace. But the disturbing feeling has not left me. I cannot explain it myself."

Gwyn nodded again.

"I had a bad dream last night. It was the first bad dream that I ever had since that day in winter," she said. "I struggled to get into a room. But I did not find a door. I felt very desperate. Suddenly, I was inside of the room, yet was not able to get out of it again. I felt very worried when I awoke. I could not go back to sleep for some time."

They looked at each other. Magath nodded slowly.

"You feel it and I feel it and even Dran has an uneasy feeling. I fear, Magath, that something is going on," Gwyn continued. "I have a sense of foreboding."

Magath swallowed. He had never admitted it to anyone. But he had always had a feeling that the jinx was not yet buried.

"Qildor will be back in two weeks. Perhaps he has news," he said.

Gwyn nodded. They ate silently, each of them lingering on their own disturbing thoughts.

~~**~~

Two weeks passed. Qildor returned to the village of Tanmil. He had managed to convince the king to send him back north for the summer. So far, the Khalindash had not crossed the frontier again and the king and his counsellors still didn’t consider the clan a threat to the kingdom of Aglanthol. But Qildor’s explanations had been convincing. He had long thought of them. He had managed to convince the king that his presence was required in the fortress that the Aglanthol had built in the north in order to protect the frontier. Only few soldiers had been sent there. The men had little to do and had turned to a lazy style of living. The discipline was lax and Qildor intended to enforce it.

His main intention for travelling north, however, had been a different one. Qildor was well aware that he had deceived the king. His main intention was to be near Magath. Severe discipline in the fortress would only counteract his plan. Leading by example would not mean the leading officer sneaking out of the fortress in order to meet his lover. Qildor felt guilty, but he shrugged the feeling off. His plan was poor and rather obvious. Was it his fault when the king did not see through it?

Qildor arrived at Magath’s house and dismounted. He would stay with Magath for the night and ride to the fortress the following morning. He led his horse into the stable. Magath’s skinny mare was inside. Qildor saw to his horse and then walked to the door of the house. The door swung open and Magath smiled at him. Qildor dropped his bags and embraced the man.

"I had a feeling you’d come today," Magath said.

"I followed through with my plan," Qildor replied cheerfully.

Magath gave a nod and then stepped back. Qildor picked up his bags and walked inside. Magath closed the door. Qildor placed his bags on the floor and took off his cloak.

"The ride was long. I did not stop very often. I lack sleep and I am hungry," he said. He looked down his body. "I fear I’m in need of a bath as well."

"I suspect you want to eat first," Magath said with a smile.

Qildor laughed heartily. He was in fact hungry. He had not eaten for hours. An hour later, they had finished their meals. Qildor pushed back his plate and then lifted his mug and took a sip.

"No news then?" Magath asked.

Qildor leaned back. He shook his head.

"No, no news," he said. "Nobody at court mentioned anything about the Khalindash that we do not already know. The king and his counsellors don’t consider them a threat. The clan lives far in the north and the clan is small. They only cross the frontier in order to steal Aglanthol goods. Ordinary villains in the eye of the king and his counsellors. Not worth to waste too many thoughts. The fortress shall remind the people of the king of Aglanthol. This is the main reason why it was built. Tracking down villains is more a side effect. The discipline is lax. This is bad for the people, yet good for my plan. However, I will enforce the discipline. I have not just come here for personal reasons."

Qildor weakened his last words with a smirk.

"The wizard Neldor is still working on his book. He is writing down his discoveries," Qildor continued. "Neldor is in good health. He thought he’d die within a few weeks after leaving the Castle of Saelethiel and he hurried to write his book. But he’s as fresh as a daisy. I think the adventure was a fountain of youth to him. I talked with him the day before I left the royal court. He had no news either. He asked me to convey greetings to you."

Magath gave a small nod in return. Then he leaned back and crossed his arms in front of his chest.

"We all tried to get back to normal, but none of us ever really managed," he said. I remember every detail of that day in winter. And so does Gwyn. We do not talk about it. We mention the day only rarely. But the day changed our lives. However hard we try, we cannot forget or pretend those things have never happened. We moved on with our lives, yes. But we still cannot go back to normal."

Magath paused for a while. Then he shrugged.

"That’s life. Never go back, always move ahead. Some people learn it fast. Some never," he said.

"Wise words," Qildor replied with a smile.

Magath returned the smile.

"I have had a lot of time to ponder," he said. He paused for a moment before he continued. "Neldor’s magic concealed the truth from Dran. But the man never really got over it. He has uneasy feelings. He is suspicious sometimes. He told me recently that I was concealing the truth from him."

Qildor pondered.

"I can’t blame you for your feelings," he said. "I also feel bad sometimes. Guilty. You all got involved in this because of me. But I cannot make it undone."

Magath shook his head.

"Neither Gwyn nor I blame you for what happened, Qildor," he said. "It is as it is. Things in life happen. You did not involve us. Fate involved us. It is not your fault. Even worse things can happen in life. It’s just that we feel that it is not yet over." Magath shrugged. "We’re overreacting perhaps."

Qildor rubbed his chin.

"I’ll be riding to the fortress tomorrow," he said. "I’ll inquire the soldiers there. Perhaps they have heard some rumours. Perhaps they have observed someone or something. I could send out a few men and have them investigate. I’ll see to this tomorrow. I’ll stay with you tonight."

Magath gave him a smile and a nod.

~~**~~

Like he had said, Qildor rode to the fortress the following day. To his surprise, he was welcomed by the men. Qildor put up training hours and sent the men out to the frontier in order to investigate and explore the area. The men did not object. On the contrary, they followed his commands gladly. They were glad to finally have something to do. The men had been bored. The weeks had passed slowly. Nothing spectacular had happened in months.

A week later, two soldiers reported to Qildor that they had seen a group of Khalindash riders close to the frontier. Qildor sent out more men. The eager men made a captive and brought the man to the fortress. In order to fill a boring evening, the ragged looking Khalindash man was inquired thoroughly. Like many Khalindash living close to the frontier, he spoke broken Aglanthol. The man confessed that he had been sneaking about. He denied, however, that he had had plans to break into an Aglanthol farmhouse. He insisted that he had only been hunting and had accidentally crossed the frontier. Qildor’s men, unhappy with the man’s recount, inquired the man for two or three more hours. The unfortunate man told them weird stories that made no sense at all. He was set free the following day. Qildor had taken notes of everything the man had said. However, he considered the man’s words were only made-up stories, lies, and bare nonsense

~~**~~

2012 Dolores Esteban
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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