Darkthorn’s Blog

A couple sat in a perfumed garden, hidden inside an alcove. Their voices were too quiet to be heard, but the hidden watcher could tell that there was an argument going on. He crept closer, intent on hearing the subject of their conversation. Somehow, the sounds didn’t get any clearer, instead they blurred into each other more becoming a distant murmur. There was also a resistance in the air, someone, or something didn’t want to be heard. The watcher, determined to see what was going on, climbed up the trellises of perfumed roses, heedless of the bloody scratches he was making on his unprotected face. The rest of his body was covered with silken material, which, although perfect for camouflaging himself, was not meant to protect the wearer. He would have to have a word to the makers about it. His cloak snagged momentarily, and he paused to rip off a leafy branch that seemed to catch on everything. It shook, and he stopped. The voices below didn’t break off, but he continued more cautiously as he wormed his way along the top of the hedge.

He reached the section that appeared to be above them. The sound of weeping could be heard over the hiss and murmur of the cloaking charm. Whoever had designed the garden had meant it to be used for clasdendine meetings and love-trysts, not breakups it seemed. Lucky for him. Or unlucky if the people were who he expected. The watcher peered through the branches, being careful to distribute his weight evenly. The garden maker had neglected to shield the vision of potential occupants from watchers. He, or she, had counted on the markers indicating that the alcove was occupied to deter anyone from entering. There was movement below, and he looked down to see the young woman weeping and the man leaning away from her, ashamed of her. The tension in his body suggested that he had caused her to cry.

The watcher clenched his fists. How dare he? That was his girl, his Kolark. He restrained himself. It looked like the other man was leaving anyway. Soon he could comfort her. She had forbidden him to see her, but she was in pain, he had to do something. He couldn’t just leave her alone. The man left and Kolark remained seated, looking even more miserable if anything. The watcher waited a little longer, to ensure that the other would be out of ear shot, before he dropped down over the side of the hedge.

“Blackmain!” Kolark exclaimed. She tried to cover her unhappiness and discomfort with anger. “What are you doing here? They could come back at any time. It’s not safe for you. I don’t want you here.”

Blackmain came closer, and she half-heartedly tried to push him away. He gathered her up in his arms and held her until she was wept out. He stroked her hair, aware of how little this would help her, but having to show in some way that he loved her. Kolark looked up at him, tears still filling her eyes, but not flowing.

“Love, you shouldn’t have come.”

“I know, but I had to know. What have they done to you?”

“I…” she paused, looking stricken, “I’m going to be married. As soon as possible. They want to ‘keep me safe’. I think they knew about us. You aren’t safe here anymore.”

“You aren’t safe either. Let me take you with me. Please my love.”

“No, I can’t. We can’t. They will always hunt us. I am the princess, they can’t let go of me. I have to further the family line.”

Blackmain sighed. There were no other choices left for him. He must leave. “You are right. I will leave now.” He stood up, pushing her off, and was rewarded with a slap for his troubles.

“Hold me.” Kolard demanded. “In the time we have left together, I want to enjoy what is left of my life.”

Blackmain complied, holding her close. They made love there, and it was the last time Blackmain saw Kolark again. The next he heard of her, she was being slaved to death, bearing children for her husband and family.