Therin: Preface
[10th of Last Seed 4E201]
Therin dipped his quill into the bottle of ink and continued writing his letter. His wife, Leanna, sat in the corner of his study working on her needlepoint and humming quietly to herself. Every once in a while, she would look out the window and frown at the drizzling rain outside. It had been raining non-stop for the past four days without any sign of slowing down and it was beginning to sour her mood. Therin’s son, Frederic, sat at the table with his tutor, reciting the names and sigils of the royal houses of High Rock.
“At the beginning of the third era,” the tutor said, “you would have had a lot more names to remember, young Frederic. In those times, High Rock had been split into forty-four separate kingdoms, each ruled by its own autonomous ruler. Now, however, we have only four royal families governing the whole of High Rock.”
“What happened to them,” the boy asked, genuinely curious. History was a favorite subject of his, second only to magic, and playing, of course.
“No one truly knows,” the tutor answered. “Over the course of only two days—or maybe four, it was hard for people to say for sure—the armies of the four rulers had swept the countryside and united the lands. Some say that the Divines themselves were involved somehow, forging this Miracle of Peace. Others say that a great and mighty Hero used some sort of device that caused The Warp in the West. Entire armies were transported across High Rock, days were lost to entire cities and villages, as if they had all slept through the fighting. No one alive can truly say what had happened.”
The boy was on the edge of his seat, enraptured by the mystery laid out before him. Therin, paused in his letter writing, had to admit that it was an interesting event in High Rock’s history. A brief silence ensued as everyone in the room imagined what might have happened.
An incessant tapping at the window behind Therin shattered their silent contemplations. Shaken from their thoughts, everyone turned at the same time to see what was tapping on the second-story window. A crow stood on the window ledge peeping into the warm, dry room. Being the closest to the window, only Therin could notice the small tube tied to the bird’s leg. The connection was immediate, and Therin knew from whom this bird was sent without having to read the message it carried. A chill ran down his spine as if he were the one standing outside in the rain looking in on the warm room.
Therin turned back to his desk and continued writing his letter, ignoring the bird and hoping that his family would do the same. After a few moments passed, Therin looked up as if an idea had just occurred to him.
“
Bertram, would you take Frederic down the basement and begin lessons on warding? I think it’s time that we introduce these spells to my son.”
The tutor was slightly taken aback. Therin allowed Bertram carte blanche on Frederic’s studies, creating a rigid schedule that he believed taught all his young charges discipline and order. Therin’s intrusion into his syllabus was rare, so he overlooked it without comment this time.
“A fine idea,” Bertram agreed, knowing from whose pocket his salary came from. “It’s never too soon to begin working on defensive magics. Come along, young Frederic, the basement will give us the space required for such lessons.”
After a small grumble on the interruption of his studies, Frederic gathered up his books and followed his tutor to the door. Before he left, he turned to his father, excitement flashed in his eyes as an idea occurred to him.
“Father, will you teach me how to juggle?”
Therin smiled proudly. He knew the boy enjoyed watching him juggle, from apples freshly picked in the orchard to knives from the kitchen downstairs. He was glad his son wanted to learn and looked forward to teaching him, but he was only ten years old and, aging slowly as Bretons do, lacked the manual dexterity to be successful. Still, he wanted to encourage the boy’s enthusiasm, so he simply answered, “
Soon.”
Frederic rolled his eyes. “You always say that, Father.”
“
And I always mean it,” Therin finished as Bertram put a gentle hand on Frederic’s shoulder and led him out of the room. Leanna had sat quietly in the corner, listening to the exchange without comment. When the tutor and his student had left, she looked up from her needlepoint and focused on Therin.
Therin was unsure how to proceed. He needed an excuse to get her to leave, too, but he knew that she would see through any reason he could make up. She knew of his family’s service to the Kings of High Rock; it wouldn’t have been fair to marry her without disclosing it to her first. Over the years she had come to expect the unmarked message bearers from the royal houses and his subsequent trips because of them. She never asked the details of the messages, knowing he would never divulge them, even to her, until after they were carried out and the mark was dead. But this was different. This was a bird, not some faceless rider on horseback. She would know that this wasn’t from one of the royal houses and it would worry her. She didn’t know about Therin’s association with The Order—no one outside The Order did—and he certainly couldn’t tell her anything about it. Luckily, she saved him the trouble of creating a ruse. Setting aside her scroll frame, Leanna stood and faced her husband.
“It’s getting close to dinnertime,” she said. “I better go and make sure the cook has the prepared the meal properly.”
It was a flimsy excuse—Leanna had never once checked up on their more-than-capable cook—but Therin was grateful to her for it. He noticed her quick glance at the crow and how her lips pursed slightly in disdain, but nonetheless she glided from the room as gracefully as ever. She had closed the door on her way out, but Therin stood and slowly walked over to it. He pressed his ear against the wood and listened to his wife’s diminishing footfalls. With a quick twist of the skeleton key already sitting in the lock, Therin secured the door and quickly walked over to the window.
He opened the window inwards, allowing the crow to enter along with the chill, damp air. It cawed and waddled to the inside of the windowsill. Therin reached down and stroked its head with his finger.
“
I don’t know how you found me, crow. I haven’t raised messenger birds in decades.” The crow cawed again, as if agreeing that finding him had been a chore. “
In fact my rookery has been converted into the tutor’s quarters some time ago, and before that it was a library.”
Therin continued stroking the crow’s head, looking out into the darkening evening.
“
I shouldn’t be surprised to see you here, though. I’ve been following the rebellion in Skyrim and I know the prophesy as well as any other.
“
’When misrule takes its place at the eight corners of the world
When the Brass Tower walks and Time is reshaped
When the thrice-blessed fail and the Red Tower trembles
When the Dragonborn Ruler loses his throne, and the White Tower falls
When the Snow Tower lies sundered, kingless, bleeding
The World-Eater wakes, and the Wheel turns upon the Last Dragonborn.’ “
Lightning flashed in the distance over the Druadach mountains. A few seconds later thunder rumbled gently, echoing off the hills. Therin snapped back from his thoughts with a little shake of his head. The crow cawed once again and Therin looked down to see his hands holding onto the bird, as if preventing it from escaping, but the bird just looked up calmly at him and cawed again.
Therin frowned and said, “
I have no place to keep you, and I can’t have you circling around my house upsetting my family once I leave.” With a quick flick of his wrists, Therin twisted the bird’s head and snapped its neck. It immediately went limp in his hands and he was easily able to take the hollowed out tube from its leg. He tossed the bird’s body unceremoniously to the ground, knowing his wolfhound will eventually find it and make it his meal. Closing the window, Therin went back to his desk and sat down.
The crimson wax seal was unbroken, but Therin shook his head disapprovingly. He still wondered why The Order left its messages in the hands of birds. They were often unreliable, succumbing to predation, exposure, and even getting lost. Not to mention that any kid with a sling and a stone could take down a bird just for fun. Then the message it carried—while still under cipher—could find its way into anyone’s possession. But Therin wasn’t on the Hand of Fate, so—with only a small annoyance—Therin let it pass and proceeded to break the seal.
The message it contained was written on black parchment, its unusual characters stained in blood-red ink. To most people, it would look like a series of scratches—something one might find on the grounds of a chicken coop—, but to Therin it was a well concealed letter, written in parable, translated into an uncommon language, and inscribed in an archaic alphabet. It took him a while to remember the code, but after a few attempts, Therin deciphered its message:
* * *
The next morning, Therin stood by his horse, his saddlebags packed and strapped to its saddle. Leanna and Frederic stood nearby, under the eaves of the house to keep out of the rain. Tiber, their wolfhound, sat next to Frederic, a small black feather stuck to his snout. Theodor, the leader of Therin’s handful of household guard, stood next to the horse, tugging on the saddle straps to make sure they were tight.
“I wish you’d let me go with you, milord, or send a couple of my men to escort you to Wayrest.”
Therin put a reassuring hand on his friend’s shoulder. “
We only have a couple of men, and with the restlessness of our Nordic neighbors, I’ll feel better knowing you’re all here keeping my family safe. Besides, the roads from here to Wayrest are the safest in the Empire. I’ll be fine.”
The guard acquiesced reluctantly. “As you wish. Your family will be well protected.”
Clasping the man’s hand in his own, Therin said, “
I know they will be.”
Therin walked over to his family. Once he was under the protection of the eaves, he reached up and pushed back the leather hood from his head. Leanna stood there, worry apparent in her eyes, but her face was stoic. She was putting on a brave face for their son, but he could still remember her crying softly into the pillow the night before.
“Safe travels to…Wayrest,” she offered. The slight pause before she said ‘Wayrest’ meant that she knew he was travelling anywhere but the capital. Therin smiled confidently, and hoped it was reassuring.
“
I’ll be back as quickly as I can,” he promised and kissed her on the lips.
He squatted down and looked his son in the eyes. He was clearly upset that his father was leaving on short notice and would not take him with.
“
As soon as I get home, we’ll start lessons on juggling,” Therin offered, hoping to placate his son. It seemed to work as the corners of his mouth twinged up in the beginnings of a smile.
“Okay,” was all the child could say as tears threatened to erupt from his eyes.
Therin felt bad, but could do nothing about it. Frederic would get over it eventually, and hopefully forgive him in the future.
“
I love you, my son,” he said as he kissed the boy on his forehead.
“
You always say that,” Frederic said, the ghost of a smile on his face.
“
And I always mean it,” Therin finished, and meant it.
Replacing the hood back over his head, Therin strode over to his horse and climbed into the saddle. He waved to his family as he nudged the bay into a canter. By the time he got to the edge of his lands, where the trail connected to the road to Wayrest, Therin was soaked from the rain—leather cloak, or no leather cloak. The horse—a creature of habit—started turning left, but Therin tightened the reins and guided him to the right.
“
Not this time, Rupert,” he told the horse. “
I guess I can tell you now that we’re not heading to Wayrest like the others believe. I hope you’re wearing your climbing shoes, because we’re going over the mountains to Skyrim.”
