Michael Manning - The Line of Illeniel

The night before had been a blur of wine and dancing, which was a common occurrence in the capital of Lothion. Albamarl was a large city and many of the nobility kept residences there, to better keep up with the important social doings around the King’s court.

“Time to be off,” Marc said to himself, rising silently. Dawn was getting close and it wouldn’t do to be caught in the young lady’s bedroom by the morning servants. He quickly donned his clothes and gathered up his scattered belongings. Eleanor didn’t wake; she had had a long night.

A few minutes later he was walking down a narrow lane that ran between the houses in that part of the city. The street proper was on the other side of the houses, this way being used mainly for servants and deliveries. Marc knew his route well; he had already visited a number of noble houses over the past few months. Being the son of a duke had its advantages and he had enjoyed a large number of dalliances with the young ladies of Albamarl. Despite what Mordecai had once thought regarding Penny, Marcus never took advantage of maids or other female staff, he restricted himself to women of noble birth.

It wasn’t that he looked down on the lower class, but he felt intuitively that it was wrong. A woman of low birth could hardly say no to a duke’s son. Such a thing would be an abuse, even if the lasses were willing, and he had no problem finding plenty of prey among girls of his own class anyway.

He started whistling to himself as he walked. The sun was starting to peek over the horizon and it looked to be another beautiful day. I wonder how much longer I should stay in Albamarl? he thought to himself. After the events last year he had taken a new interest in the future. Lord Thornbear’s death had made him painfully aware that his own father would not live forever. Someday he would have to take on the mantle of Duke of Lancaster.

Marc originally came to Albamarl to court and woo, being the heir apparent meant he had a duty to find a wife before he got too old. Although his original intention had been pure, he soon found that none of the noblewomen he met could keep his attention, well not for much longer than a week or two. As a dutiful son he kept searching, and before long he realized that he enjoyed the chase more than the conclusion. Life is hard sometimes.

He was walking along, already wondering where he would find his next conquest, when he heard the sounds of a scuffle. The first noises were harsh thumps, the sound of someone taking a beating, but they were followed by a sickening wet sound. Rushing around the corner he saw three men in a dark alley.

One was standing, looking around anxiously, while the second rifled through the pockets of a young man. The fellow on the ground was leaking blood at an alarming rate. “Cease and desist! I’ll have the watch here in a moment!” Marc shouted, reaching for his sword.

It wasn’t there; he had left it in the cloak room at the party the night before. Shit! he thought. The man standing lookout charged him, a heavy truncheon in his hand. That’s probably what produced the thumping noises, he observed. He found himself leaping backward to avoid the other man’s clumsy swings. Timing them he waited till his foe over extended himself, and then he stepped in and delivered a heavy left hook to the thug’s temple. The man stumbled, his legs having turned to jelly, and fell. Marc kicked him solidly in the head as he tried to rise.

Snatching up the truncheon he looked for the second assailant, but that one had apparently run when his friend went down. Their victim didn’t move. “Hey! Are you alright?” he asked, kneeling beside the fallen man. The fellow had been stabbed in the gut and blood was still pumping sluggishly from the wound. It didn’t look good.

“Someone help me! Get the watch, someone find a doctor!” A few curious folk had stuck their heads out when they had seen the fight was over. Marc called to them for help, but he knew it was useless, the man on the ground had little time left. It was doubtful even a doctor could save him at this point. As he looked down at him the fellow opened his eyes and groaned.

“It hurts…” The injured man’s eyes were wide with pain, yet he obviously couldn’t see clearly. Pain and loss of blood seemed to have robbed him of his senses. “Momma, I couldn’t find the fish… I’m sorry.” Finally Marc noticed the scattered food on the ground. Apparently the victim had been returning from the market.

Something about the pure ordinariness of it struck a chord within Marc. Groceries seemed like a silly thing to die for, yet this man had been stabbed for nothing more than that and whatever change had been in his pocket. He had probably been an honest man; he wore the silver star of Millicenth, the goddess of the Evening Star. Without thinking Marc reached out to touch the star, “Please Goddess… if there is a way to save this poor man, show me.”

Marc had never been one to pray before, outside of weekly services. He knew little of the proper ways to beseech his goddess, but he knew nothing else to do. His emotions built and he felt hot tears forming in his eyes. Still he clutched the silver star, “Please Lady, if this man meant anything… help him. I know I’m not worthy, but this man needs you.” It might have been his imagination but he felt a warm glow form around him, and then he saw her.

She was wrapped in a luminescent dress, like starlight made into cloth. Silver hair and bright eyes accented a face so beautiful that he felt like crying at the sight of her. “Long have I waited for this day, Marcus Lancaster. We have much to do,” she said with a voice that reminded him of music.

“I don’t know what you mean Lady; I just need to save this man. He has wronged no one and does not deserve to die.” Despite the beauty of the goddess in front of him he could still feel the man’s life fading under his hand.

“If you would save him you must give over your worldly life. Devote yourself to me. I will show you the path of the righteous and through you I will shine my light into the empty hearts of men.” She drew closer as she said this, till it seemed her face was mere inches from his own.

Marc could feel her beauty like a physical thing and was filled with a sense of the divine, a holy radiance such as he had never known. It flowed into the cracks in his heart, the empty places. The eternal solitude that every human knows from birth… was gone. For the first time in his life he felt complete in her presence. “I will my Lady,” he answered, “If you will let me I will serve you all the days of my life, forsaking all else.”

“Open your heart to me child,” she said, but he had already done so and he felt her pouring into him, like liquid light into a dark vessel. The world vanished into a sensation of such joy and power that he was overwhelmed. Opening his eyes again he became aware of the world in a new way. Light filled everything, and below him he could see the light fading from the man on the ground.

Marc opened his hand and placed it over the wound. He could feel her power flowing through him and as he watched the blood stopped and the flesh closed up again without even a scar left behind. The man on the ground was watching him now, eyes wide, as though he were staring at an angel. “You healed me,” he said simply, touching his unblemished stomach.

Marc spoke, “You were healed by the grace of the Evening Star. Her mercy saved your life. Remember that and live with her in your thoughts and actions.” Then he stood up and looked around, a crowd had gathered. People were murmuring in amazement. “The Goddess has blessed this man, and she will bless us all, if we but let her,” he said. Unable to bear their continued stares he worked his way through the crowd and headed for his father’s city home.