Ryker
Theyrn was finally going to have his own kingdom. He had been taken from his
birth parents because of a mark on his cheek, and raised as a prince. It was a
system that had worked for more than a century now; babies who were born
bearing the mark were taken in by the church and later gifted land to rule
over. The Brotherhood believed that those who had the mark were descendant from
their prophet and hero, King Theyrn. Theyrn had gathered all the savage men and
women, ending all wars and creating the empire of Glyndwr. Ryker was the first
commoner born with the mark in fifty years, and his ascension to kinghood was
finally here. The Brotherhood had chosen an island called Lyle, which had been
inhabited only by a few mercenaries for several years now.
Ryker and
his advisors had arrived barely a day ago; the land was very flat, consisting
of diving valleys that stretched out toward the horizon. The island was small;
however the open fields almost tricked the eye. The air felt cleaner somehow,
and Ryker felt a swelling in his chest for the island. Lyle would be a good
place, he believed, a good place to raise a family and live harmoniously, he
would make sure of it.
“Sire,”
Arni called from behind where Ryker stood. “Are you ready to meet your queen?”
“I’m not
king yet, Arni” Ryker replied over his shoulder. “And she’s not my wife yet, so
how could she be my queen?”
Arni
laughed cheerfully in agreement. Ryker was not certain on his thoughts of the
men the Brotherhood had sent to be his advisors. Arni – the senior of the two,
had a large belly for a man sworn to serve the church. And the other, Leif,
appeared to be younger than Ryker himself. But in a way he was relieved to be
away from the constant gaze of the Brotherhood, as he was finally being given
the freedom to become his own man.
“Sire?”
Arni asked tentatively, appearing at Ryker’s side. “You’re being very quiet.”
“I’m full
of thought,” Ryker answered. “What do you know of this woman they’re sending
me?”
“She’s very
beautiful,” Arni said persuasively.
“You’ve
already told me that,” Ryker replied with a snigger. “What about her
temperament? And her personality?”
The older
man gave a desperate shrug, and Ryker turned away from him with a sigh. He
supposed it didn’t matter, he had to marry her no matter what she was like. The
Brotherhood had spent a long time trying to find the right woman for him, so
he’d been told. Originally he’d been informally betrothed to Princess Neith –
daughter of the High King Rylan. He wasn’t completely informed on why that
betrothal never went ahead, but he’d never really imagined himself married to
Neith either.
Ryker
looked up hesitantly as the ramp was lowered onto the sand; he
cleared his throat and nervously straightened his back and squared his shoulders.
Three figures made their way deftly down onto the beach, each hooded and
cloaked with their faces hidden. Two of the women stood either side the one who
Ryker guessed to be his future wife. He stepped forward as the women came to
stop in front of him.
“Welcome,”
he said. “This is Lyle, and I am Ryker.”
“If you’re
Ryker,” the woman on left blurted. “Where’s your crown?”
“He has yet
to be crowned,” scolded the woman on the right.
Ryker
nodded, hiding a smile. “That’s correct, I’ll be crowned once the building of
the church is completed.”
“As it is
written, ‘a church of the Brotherhood cannot be called so without the crowning
of a king to bless the stone.’”
Ryker
blinked and looked at the woman who had spoken; she stood with a reserved kind
of grace and was noticeably shorter than the other two. Her head was dropped
low and he couldn’t quite see her face, but Ryker felt the flutter of
excitement in him. He swooped toward her and reached for her hand. She pulled away
at first, surprised by his sudden approach, but relaxed her hand into his.
“I’m
Ryker,” he said to her alone.
“My… Name
is Leda,” she replied shyly.
He did not
move away – he stood there waiting and watching her. She stared away from him,
with her head tilted down. He still had not seen her face. Slowly, she began to
inch her gaze up at him, and he waited patiently. He liked her already, for
some reason. Perhaps it was the softness in her, the quiet and modest aura she
possessed. Whatever it was, he told himself, he would have to send a thank you
note to the Brotherhood.
