The Legends of Ithan Book 1: Ghosts & Fire

7

  “I have need to speak to his majesty,” a tall black-skinned woman dressed all in white with a huge fur white helmet on her head spoke softly but with authority as she approached the chamberlain at the entrance to the King’s Halls. A huge white battle axe was slung over her shoulder and she had piercing ice blue eyes that seemed to see into the chamberlain’s soul. Her cape, tunic, and skirt were all white, trimmed in ice blue tribal designs with the symbol of honor being repeated over and over again in the ancient Ithan tongue. “I am Grada of the northern village of Par on Mount Larise in the great mountain range of Cain. I am the daughter of Krate, the leader of the village. My people have been attacked and slaughtered by unknown enemies dressed all in green. I must speak with his majesty.”

            The chamberlain’s little black eyes grew wide with the mention of the green men and he hurriedly ran into the Hall to consult the king.

            Grada stood where the chamberlain had left her and a slight Wind ruffled the snow white fur on her shoulders. Her matching cape and skirt fluttered in the Wind and Grada took a moment to wonder where it could have come from.

            Since she had left her mountain home she had seen far too many strange things to comprehend.  She wasn’t ignorant, she knew, and her father had always tried to see to it that his children were learned in the ways outside their snowy mountain range, but seeing Seliz and the palace in its full glory had taken her by surprise. The very idea that men’s hands had wrought such miracles seemed almost beyond her belief. She stared at the jade colored walls of the palace and could see her reflection staring back. Such marvels, she thought silently. Her face remained impassive though and stony as she marveled at the huge tapestries that hung from the gleaming walls. No matter how surprised she felt or overwhelmed, she maintained her warrior’s composition. She could hear her father say, “Discipline is the first key to a warrior’s success.“ Her heart contracted inside her and her face flinched the tiniest of movement that the jade walls were the only ones to see. “But I am not you, father,“ Grada said to her father’s voice in her head. “I am only Grada…..“ and her voice trailed off into the silence of the jade halls. Yet I know I am strong, she told herself, I will take care of my people.

            Then suddenly she heard the chamberlain running down the corridor to her. He was out of breath and his red silk outfit was billowing with the force of his movement. “Come, come, the king will speak with you,“ he said hurriedly, trying not to seem out of breath. He began escorting Grada to the throne room of King Venes as quickly as his little legs could take him.

            As the tall warrior walked down the halls of the castle to the throne room, she marveled at the hand carved designs and exquisite paintings that adorned the hall on both sides as well as the ceiling. In all her days she had never seen such rich and wondrous colors. They reminded her of the night sky that always appeared during the village’s night celebration to honor the new coming snow. Her village used mostly whites, pale blues, and pale reds for coloring in their homes and considered themselves the more lavish of all the villages in the Cain mountain range. Not even her father’s house, though, compared to the king’s castle.

            She had loved her home. It had been made of solid ice, like every other house in their village, but her father had made sure that his house reflected the grandeur of his position in the village. Instead of the normal rounded, short ceilings the rest of the villagers had, her father had made their home square with high-vaulted ceilings and the walls had been covered with tapestries her mother had made with her own hands from wild beast furs.