Part 37

AND… My 200th Blog Post!!!  … Does little dance of glee …

 

Uncovering Painful Truth

 

Hera’s flight was unhindered as she hobbled through the chaos wracked city, news of the King’s death had caused many Royal Guards to surrender to save their own lives, they were being rounded up by the dusty clad warriors, who Hera could only assume were barbarians from the Wastelands. Whether their submission would be their salvation? That was a risk these men were prepared to take and by the time Hera had reached the city gates, fighting had subsided and the common folk, those oppressed, starved and bled dry to the point of poverty through high taxes, which only aided the Kings lavish lifestyle… These people were celebrating, dancing in the streets, returning to their homes, finally permitted to return into the city, fleeing the slums beyond the walls, as the city gates fell open people swarmed in with hope. Barbarians guarding their path, escorting them home… Slums were torched as they were neglected and Hera saw hope, she saw change and she also feared that a new ruler would be just as brutal once power corrupted them.

A single old lady attracted no attention from anyone as she picked her way slowly, across creek and farmland, seeking the well Fendor had used to bury the crystal. Near a Sheppard’s den, down a dirty ditch. Hera stumbled…

“Careful there my lady.” A soft voice startled Hera and before she could react, kind hands helped her to her feet. “Are you alright?” A pretty young Shepherdess, crook in hand offered Hera support as she regained her balance.

“I am, yes I am, just muddy and cold.” Hera smiled, “Thank You…”

“Brynn.” She offered her hand, “Where are you going so late, the land around here is so uneven, you’re not wanting a worst tumble and snap bones.” The Shepherdess offered Hera her crook to lean on.

“Thank You Brynn, is there a well around here? An old lady is so dry from her flight.”

“There was, but the water was rancid. I have water at my den, I have brandy if you fancy something with a fine kick, helps against this keen wind.”

Hera nodded, exhaustion had crept into her old bones, she was feeling sore, emotional and quite frightened. So Brynn kindly lead her to the tumble down shelter, the well was in sight of the small hut, so close, but it would have to wait. Hera accepted the welcome brandy and together they sat watching the slums burn and more barbarians arrive from the darkness to secure the city.

“It’s quite a frightful mobocracy up there, near scared two of my ewes into lamb too soon, thundering past all full of blood lust and mayhem. The wild folk aint no normal alley, mark my words, their price will be high, more than the city folks may offer. I’ll stick with my sheep, I understand them!” Brynn passed the bottle once more.

“You know you’re the second person passed by here seeking well water, just prior to sunset a leather clad man rode this way, claimed to be lost and thirsty. Didn’t likes the looks of him, his weapons were army stock, but his garb was not. Said his name was Fener? Fenor? Fanar? … I’m not sure, nor do I care… ‘fraid I sent him off wrong way, towards water… Not the old well, not the well you seek…”

“Fendor?”

 

Brynn nodded …

 

Anne Harrison 28.02.17

 

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