This
story was previously published by ‘Tria Demens’.
A prologue to Once Upon a Time:
Chronicles of Acharn.
By Sealie
Proud in his new livery, Lord
James William Forrest Ellison of the Clan d’Ellison stood sentry outside his
Queen’s chambers. He caught his reflection in the suit of armour standing
against a far wall. The black and gold
livery had been his to wear on his twelfth birthday. As Heir to the house of
Ellison, his family served the House of Sandburg and now he waited on Her
Majesty, the Queen, herself.
The page admired the crest on
his livery. The Wolf rampant danced with the Cat sejant
on either side of a sable escutcheon with purpure
cinquefoil charges above the scroll with the motto: d’amo. As eldest son of the Clan
d’Ellison, James bore the label mark of cadency with
his own shield (a reverse of the House of Sandburg, where the Cat rampant
guardian stood over the Wolf couchant on a tincture of pure argent) on his
right sleeve.
The page knew his position; he
served his Queen – that had been impressed upon him in childhood.
“Jamie?” A soft whisper caught
his attention.
“Milady?” Jamie hesitated a heartbeat, then opened the door to the queen’s suite of rooms. Several bespelled doors guarded the queen, as a d’Ellison he passed
through the spell wards unquestioned. At the threshold to the chambers-proper,
he knocked carefully.
“You called, Your Majesty?”
“Jamie! Come in! Now!”
Startled, Jamie pulled open the
heavy oak door. The Queen beckoned him into the room. She stood upright,
clutching the side of the fireplace with one hand. Her other hand was planted
firmly on the small of her back. She breathed in and out like a horse after a
good run.
“Your
Majesty?” he asked politely. A ripple walked across her enlarged tummy, visible
even under her silk nightgown.
Perspiration had twisted her
long red hair into spikes and there was a bright quality in her eyes that
scared the young page.
“Your Majesty, do you need
help?”
“James, my boy,” she said with
studied control, “I wonder if you would go and get the physician?”
“Yes, Milady,
is the baby coming?” he asked, wide eyed.
“Yes, James,
my boy. Will
you get Cindy, now?”
“Yes!” Jamie needed no further
instruction, he bolted.
~*~
Jamie burst into the physician’s
apothecary, flinging the door open. Startled, the doctor dropped the flask that
she was working on. It fell to the floor and shattered.
“James! I’ve been working on
that potion for days.”
“The Queenishavingthebaby! The Queenishavingthe
baby!”
“What?” Cindy sat up wide eyed.
“The Queenishavingthebaby!”
The physician leaped away from
her worktable in one smooth motion, snatching up her
bag of magic she almost bowled Jamie out of the way as she rushed by him. The
young laird simply ducked, spun on his heel and ran after her.
He knew why she was worried. She
was concerned because the baby was coming too early; and that he knew was
dangerous. Jamie’s mama had died when she had delivered his baby brother,
Stephen, early.
Jamie wasn’t too sure what he
would be able to do, but he was going to help. He ran after the physician. She
had already turned the corner at the bottom of the corridor and was out of
sight. Jamie ran pell-mell after her. At the bottom of a short staircase, he
almost bumped into the Chancellor. Zigzagging, Jamie ducked under The Zeller’s
habitual backhand and continued at great speed down the corridor.
“Boy!” The Zeller hollered after
him.
“The Queenishavingthe baby.”
Jamie was puffing hard by the
time he screeched to a halt outside the Queen’s chambers. Suddenly he found
himself in a complete quandary. Should he go in? Heart in his mouth, he planted
his ear on the door. What should he do? Wasn’t he supposed to boil water or
something?
“Jamie?” The young page jumped
away from the door and stood ramrod straight at attention. The Duchess
Michelle, resplendent in her court gown of teal silk, peered down at him -- her
expression chastising. Jamie blushed, despite the fact that he had been
listening for a good reason.
“Duchess Michelle?” he squeaked.
“The babe’s coming and it’s too early.”
“What?” The lady-in-waiting
flung open the door to the Queen’s suite. “Go get the physician.”
“I did,” Jamie addressed the
space where she had been standing. Alone, Jamie went back to his post. He
gnawed on his lip, while waiting for instructions.
A sudden low howl made him
shudder to his toes. He hadn’t heard anyone make that kind of noise before. He
blushed again as he heard a very rude word. Then that reverberating howl rocked
through his body.
“It’s a boy!” A voice exulted.
A weak, high pitched -- profoundly
disgruntled -- wail brushed his ears.
“Jamie, get in here!” Cindy
ordered.
The page did not disobey the
physician when she used that tone of voice. Nervously, he tiptoed into the
room. He was pretty sure that boys didn’t go into girls’ rooms at this sort of
time.
Mage energies swirled about the
Queen’s four poster bed. The Duchess Michelle stood at the Queen’s side, hiding
her from view. She was the source of the magic. Blue-green healing radiance
flowed from the lady-in-waiting to the Queen.
Cindy stood at the base of the
bed, head bowed over a tiny wrapped bundle in her arms.
The physician caught sight of
him immediately. “Jamie, my boy, come here.”
Well trained, Jamie darted to her
side.
“Hold him with care.” She said
and set the baby gently in his arms.
Jamie froze stock still as his
hands cradled the babe. It was so small, its face wrinkled like an apple. A
tiny palm lay lax upon the blanket. The baby was barely breathing.
“Jamie will you help him?”
Jamie was captured by the tiny
prince. “Of course.”
A warm hand rested on his
forehead and a soft incantation washed over him. Cindy’s other hand rested on
the baby’s chest. The physician released him and Jamie held the baby unaided.
His heart thrummed and he felt an answering beat in the baby prince’s chest. He
breathed and the baby breathed. A rush of warmth filled him. He was helping the
baby.
Focussed on his charge, he was
barely aware of the physician and the duchess working to heal the Queen. Cindy
moved around the Queen, yelling for Aconite and Arnica. A flash of bright red
caught his eyes, but he looked away -- back to the baby.
Rosebud lips pursed, searching
for comfort. Gingerly, Jamie brushed a soft cheek with his fingertip and,
impossibly, sapphire blue eyes latched upon his own.
“Hello,” Jamie whispered.
The prince took all of his
strength and he gave it willingly.
~*~
“You’re a good boy, Jamie.” A
hand brushed his forehead. Startled, the young page stared up at the physician.
She had a streak of blood high on her cheek. Jamie squinted as she wavered from
side to side. That was not right.
“You have to take the prince,
now.” Solemnly, Jamie thrust the babe into Cindy’s arms. He felt very strange.
He made sure that the physician had a firm hold on the prince and then he sat –
swiftly – on the floor. His legs just gave way. Jamie patted the floor with a
shaking hand. It should have stayed still, floors normally just stayed still.
Perhaps if he just curled up on
his side, on the floor, he would feel better.
“Come on, Jamie.”
Confused, he peered at the
duchess as she easily pulled him to his feet. He didn’t want to stand; he
wanted to go to sleep.
“Just a few
steps.”
The lady wrapped an arm around
his shoulders and caught his hand in a firm grip. He docilely allowed her to
conduct him from the Queen’s chambers.
But at the door he balked. “What about the baby?”
“Cindy’s looking after the
prince,” she said soothingly. “You need to rest now, Lord James.”
“Just Jamie,
am not big enough to be Lord James yet.”
“You’re big enough.” The duchess
led him into a bedroom attached to the Queen’s chambers. He unerringly headed
straight for the big bed in the centre of the room; he really wanted to lie
down. The Duchess Michelle helped him clamber up onto the high mattress, and
Jamie gratefully slumped onto the pillows. He fell
face first into comforting darkness.
~*~
Jamie woke up, but only his
thoughts; his bones still slept. It was a delicious feeling, an enchanting
lassitude in which he could happily dwell in forever. Slowly, he became aware
of soft scents. The heavy quilt wrapped around his body, comforting him. Bird
song, elsewhere, lulling him. Irrevocably, he woke -- all the way.
His stomach clamoured; he was
absolutely starving. He lifted his head, his face was
mashed into a pillow.
“Lord James?” a mocking voice
asked.
Jamie scowled at his older
friend. Rafe, a fellow page, was leaning across his bed, elbows planted on the
mattress.
“What?” Jamie growled.
“You’ve been sleeping forever,”
the young duke said.
“Food?”
“I rang for some when you
started snuffling into your pillow about a candle mark ago.” Rafe exuded
laughter. “Ah!” he shuffled off the bed and out of sight.
Jamie considered moving, and with
great effort, he flipped onto his back. He felt as stiff as a tree trunk. Jamie
craned his head as Rafe tottered back into the chamber, bowed under a tray
piled high with delicacies.
Motivated, Jamie – grunting –
struggled to sit upright. Rafe plonked the tray on his lap and then helped him
with the mass of pillows.
The scents were driving Jamie
insane. He grabbed a handful of crispy bacon and stuffed it in his mouth. It
was the best thing he had ever tasted. Rafe retreated to the edge of the big
bed and tucking his knees against his chest. The page watched Jamie with an
amazed expression pasted over his round face.
“Boy, you’re hungry.”
“Famished.” Jamie said around his full
mouth and grabbed a hot buttered bread roll. He was amazed; even the warm milk
tasted gorgeous.
“The Queen had a baby,” Rafe
announced.
Jamie’s mouth fell open as he
remembered. He had forgotten about the wee little babe. Rafe was gagging
merrily, and Jamie quickly closed his mouth and swallowed his breakfast
“Is the prince well?”
Rafe pondered. “I dunno, he’s really little--” he held his hands a hairsbreadth
apart, “--but aren’t babies supposed to be little?”
“Humf.” Jamie set the tray aside, grabbed a boiled egg, stuffed it in
his mouth and then wriggled out from under the heavy quilt. Someone had changed
his clothes since he now wore a long night robe. The young laird pondered a
moment on who had dressed him and then clambered off the bed. The cold of the
wooden floor bit his toes.
“Where are you going?” Rafe
scrambled after him.
Jamie padded down the short
corridor to the Queen’s chamber. Rafe grabbed the sleeve of Jamie’s nightgown,
just before he reached the door.
“You can’t go in there!” he
hissed.
“I need to.” Jamie plucked Rafe’s chubby hand from his arm.
“You’re going to be in so much
trouble.” Rafe washed his hands of the affair and darted down the corridor. He
stuck his tongue out before ducking back into Jamie’s bed chamber.
Jamie stood tall and tapped
politely on the door to the Queen’s room.
“Enter,” a soft voice ordered.
Jamie pushed open the oak door.
The Queen had centre stage in the room. She reclined in the middle of her grand
four poster bed. There wasn’t a drop of colour in her face, which made her hair
impossibly red. The royal purple quilt and pillows did not flatter her drained
complexion.
“James.” She smiled welcomingly.
The page took a tentative step
into her boudoir. Then he couldn’t help himself, he ran to the side of the bed,
and peered around the bottom post, half hidden behind the drapes.
Her arm was curled protectively
over a crib at her side.
“Come closer, James.”
Jamie needed no second
encouragement, he moved closer. The tiny little soul barely filled half the
cradle. “Is he all right? He’s very little.”
“Yes, thanks to you.” Queen
Naomi gestured regally at the Duchess Michelle and Countess Elizabeth sitting
on the sunlit balcony outside the chamber. Their expressions serene; it was
obvious that they were meditating.
“Shelly and Beth are helping Blair for the moment.”
“Blair?”
“Yes.” The Queen carefully
lifted her son from his swaddling. Bright, copper curls framed the apple sized
face. Blair no longer looked like a disgruntled gnome; the baby’s skin was
smooth. Jamie was enchanted by the tiny, perfect fingernails. A little fist
opened and closed. Jamie couldn’t resist, he glanced at the Queen, and
receiving permission, he let the baby grip his finger.
“Lord James, allow me to
introduce you to His Royal Highness, Prince Blair Nechtan
Finn of the House of Sandburg-Bran. I thought about calling him James, but that
would have made it a bit confusing.”
~*~
But James William of the Clan of
the House of Ellison was not listening to his liege. He was absorbed by the
strong grip that Blair had on his finger. The legacy of Sentinel and Guide
began anew, the circle continuing.