St. Valentine's Feast - Part 1

[Jerusha]

This is the story I wanted to write after Shiral challenged us last year to describe our Deryni Date.  I missed the deadline - by a lot!

As always, my thanks to Evie for proofing this and for her content suggestions, and to Alkari for allowing me to use a small item from A Gryphon by the Tail in Part 3.

St. Valentine's Feast

Part 1 – The Arrival

The Green Tower
Coroth Castle
Duchy of Corwyn
February 13, 2013

Evaine Morgan looked up at the bright moonlight pouring through the heavy green glass in the tower window directly across from her.  It diffused as it passed through the luminescence of the protective dome that her younger brother had created above their heads just moments before.

The Green Tower had always been her favourite hideaway in Castle Coroth, but now it had a surreal look to it.  Except for the bright moonlight coming through the skylight and windows, the only other light came from the eight candles placed at the points of the elaborate octagon outlined in worn tiles in the floor.  Evaine and her brothers had rolled back the Kheldish carpet to expose the Transfer Portal late that night, activating the Wards and lighting the candles to be ready when the full moon had reached its zenith.

The Portal had been dormant for centuries.  From what Evaine had been able to discover in her research, it had been constructed under the auspices of the seventh Duke of Corwyn sometime after 1140 during the reign of King Kelson.  Over three hundred years ago!  Tonight, they would try to bring it back to life.

"Do you think you could bring your attention back to the present, Evaine?  We don't have all night, you know."  Dominic Morgan raised one blond eyebrow at his younger sister as she turned her attention back to the Portal.  He stood at the eastern side of the octagon, holding out his right hand to grasp her left; she grasped it and held out her right to grasp her younger brother Richard's left, and he closed the circle by joining hands with Dominic.  The three of them just managed to encircle the Portal.  Evaine glanced at the silver St. Gabriel medal Dominic wore; it was far older than the Portal and had worn so smooth over time that the image of the patron saint of Healers was barely discernable.  She wasn't sure how old an object had to be to qualify as something "from the old times", but it was the oldest artefact they had in the ducal collection.  She closed her eyes.

Dominic, as was customary, took the lead in the ritual, opening his mind to his sister and brother.  Green light glowed around their heads and was soon followed by a swirling current of energy as they drew deeper from their combined resources to re-energize the Portal.  A final, blinding flash completed the ritual, and after a moment they opened their eyes.  As one they stepped back from the Portal and stared in disbelief at the man who now stood in its centre, their Deryni shields snapping into place.

The man who had not been there a moment before looked as shocked as Evaine felt.  He was a tall man, dressed in a long, dark green tunic and hose of a darker shade.  He had golden-blond, short cropped hair and at this time of night, beard stubble on his chin and jaw.  She couldn't tell what colour his eyes were in the dim light in the tower, but he looked at each of them directly, consternation apparent on his handsome face.  A white belt was fastened around his waist, from which hung a sword in a jewelled scabbard.  His hand moved toward the hilt of that sword as his gaze stopped on Dominic.

"Who are you?" the man asked, using an older version of Gwyneddan that Evaine was more familiar with than her brothers.

"He wants to know who you are," she sent Dominic.

"I don't have to be a Kelsonian scholar to guess that," he shot back and then straightened his shoulders a bit before replying.  "I am Lord Dominic Anthony Morgan, the twenty-seventh Duke of Corwyn and Dean of St. Gabriel's College of Healers." His voice held the same note of authority as had the man's who stood on the Portal.  He nodded in Richard's direction. "This is my brother, Sir Richard Nigel Morgan, attaché to His Majesty, King Donel Rhys Haldane of Gwynedd.  My sister, Lady Evaine Alazais Morgan, stands next to him.  She is the Assistant Curator of the Royal Gwyneddan Museum's Kelsonian Archives," he added as an afterthought.  "And you, sir?"

At that moment, Evaine recognized him.  He was the man in the portrait that hung in the gallery off of the great hall.  "He is our grandfather, many times removed," Evaine stated before the man on the Portal could respond, and then repeated herself in older Gwyneddan.

The man looked at her askance, understanding most of what she said in spite of her odd pronunciation. Finally, he gave a slight bow in her direction.  "I am Lord Alaric Anthony Morgan, seventh Duke of Corwyn, King's Champion, and Lord Protector of the South."  The two dukes eyed each other warily.

"I think," Richard said, "we should release the Wards now."  At Dominic's nod of approval, Richard proceeded with the ritual to disperse the Wards. 

Alaric Morgan watched the younger man intently, reassured that the proper protocol had been followed.  Richard was aware of the scrutiny and resisted the temptation to end with a flourish.   Evaine extinguished the candles with a sweep of one hand and then moved over to the wall and switched on the lights.

Alaric's eyes narrowed at the sudden, unfamiliar light.  He was not where he ought to be, that much was certain.  He was outnumbered, but there were no weapons other than his own in the ritual circle.  He felt the subtle probe against his shields as he sent a similar probe against Duke Dominic's; he sensed something familiar in that brief touch.  Perhaps they were who they said they were, but whether they were or not, he would get no answers if he continued standing here in silence.  After another moment of hesitation, he resolutely stepped from the Portal and unhooked his sword, offering it hilt first to Dominic.  "As I am your guest, I offer my sword in acceptance of your hospitality."

Dominic glanced briefly at his sister, and at her nod, reached forward to accept the sword.  "Thank you, Your Grace."  He motioned to a circular table and the chairs placed around it.  "I suggest we make ourselves comfortable while we figure out what happened and what we're going to do about it."

"If we maintain a light rapport," Evaine ventured, "we should be able to understand each other well enough without my having to translate."

Alaric studied the woman thoughtfully.  He could sense no threat from her or her brothers.  He lowered his shields just enough to allow the contact. "Fair enough.  I'm afraid I'm developing a large number of questions at this point."  Alaric moved to the table, pulled out the nearest chair and motioned for Evaine to sit.  He sat in the chair beside her.

"Don't get used to that," Richard sent.  Evaine stopped short of the traditional childhood response of sticking her tongue out at him and smiled.

"You are not the only one with a list of questions, Your Grace, and there are three of us," Dominic said, giving a warning look to the youngest Morgans in the room. He leaned the sword carefully against a tall wood cabinet and sat in the chair across from Alaric.

Alaric Morgan looked around the tower thoughtfully, noting what was familiar and what was not.  The room itself was definitely his tower retreat, but many of the contents of the room were different.  His large shiral crystal rested on its gryphon claw on a small round stand by one of the green windows.   His gaze fell on an ornately carved box on nearby shelf; that, he was certain, was his. Although it was new to him, he was impressed by an old tapestry hanging above the hearth.  It was a magnificent depiction of the green Corwyn Gryphon on its sable field, but he noted that the gold tressure lacked the Morgan flory counter-flory. 

"When am I?" he finally asked.

"The year is 2013, Your Grace," Evaine answered, "and the day is February 13th.  When was it when you...left?"

"It was the day before the Feast day of Saint Valentine, 1145."

For a moment, no one spoke.  Dominic fingered the St. Gabriel medal on its chain. "What exactly were you doing at the time, Duke Alaric?"

Alaric looked thoughtful.  "I was going to try the Portal for the first time.  My wife, Richenda, along with my cousin, Duncan McLain, had assisted me in constructing the Portal earlier that night.  I was going to Dhassa to prove to Bishop Arilan that we had successfully constructed one.  He was annoyed that we were not including him in the construction, but I didn't want him to have the coordinates.  At least not right away."

"You didn't want the Camberian Council popping in on you unannounced?"  Evaine asked with a smile.

"You know about the Council?  It still exists today?"

The three Morgan siblings looked at each other.

"How much can we tell him?"  Richard sent.  "Anything we reveal, he'll take back with him."

"If we can get him back," Dominic responded.

"We have to get him back!  He has to be with King Kelson in 1152 or there will be no Haldane legacy!" The urgency of Evaine's thought came clearly through the link that had temporarily excluded Alaric.

Alaric was aware that he was outside of the current dialogue, but also realized that he would likely have done the same thing.  Nevertheless, he wanted an answer.

"Forgive us for being rude, Your Grace." Dominic turned his attention back to Alaric.  "We must be careful that any information or experiences that you take back with you -- assuming of course that you will remember them -- can't influence your future actions. We, and all that we are familiar with, would like to still be here after you return to 1145."

"You're confident I can return?"

"Truthfully, no," Dominic responded.  "But we Morgans are a stubborn lot, as you may be aware."

"The trait has been brought to my attention from time to time."  Alaric smiled and then added, "Can you answer my question?"

Richard nodded.  "I believe we can answer it, Your Grace.  Not only does the Council still exist, but I have been approached to take a seat on the Council.  Arilan originally approached Dom, but he declined, fearing it might conflict with his responsibilities to the College of Healers."

"There's still an Arilan on the Council?"  Alaric asked incredulously.

"Yes," Evaine said with a grin.  "There always seems to be one on the Council, but this one is Father Sextus Arilan, not Bishop Denis." 

Dominic looked thoughtful.   "It would seem that we re-energized the Portal at the same time you initiated the first transfer.  The massive energy shift must have moved you through time as well as space.  But whether or not we can do it again...."

"Duncan and Richenda won't give up on me yet," Alaric stated with certainty.  "They'll contact Bishop Arilan and determine I never appeared in Dhassa.  They'll try something, but I can't guess at what." 

Evaine looked at the shiral crystal on its gryphon perch.  "Is there any hope Duke Alaric could contact them through the shiral?" she asked.

Richard shook his head.  "It's been tried before, using the shiral in the Council chambers, but with no success.  Of course, when it was tried, they didn't have someone from the past to use as a conduit.  At least no one living, that is," he added wryly.

Evaine wrinkled her nose. "Spare me the details, please."

"I'm willing to try," Alaric stated.  "It's likely Duncan and Richenda will try that, though they won't have any idea the problem is 'when," not 'where."

Richard leaned across the table, the excitement of the challenge reflected in his grey eyes.  "Before Alaric attempts to make contact, we need a plan of action.  The contact may be very short; we need to let them know how we intend to try to send him back."

Dominic raised a blond eyebrow.  "I would agree, provided we had a plan."

"Maybe we do."

The two dukes exchanged glances.  "What do you propose?" Alaric asked, intrigued by the younger man's air of growing confidence.

"I think our best chance of sending you back is to duplicate what we did tonight.  The Portal is already energized, but we can duplicate the ritual and focus our energies on sending you back to the right time in the same place." Richard looked at each of the other two men.  "There may be enough residual energy from that first exchange to link you back to the correct time.  We need to do this at precisely the same time tomorrow.  We shouldn't wait any longer, or we'll lose that link."

"Do you agree?" Alaric asked the current Duke of Corwyn.

"Richard is the most broadly trained in magic of the three of us, having studied in Andelon as well as Torenth.  I am well enough trained, but my focus has been on Healing."

"Dominic is recognized as the most accomplished Healer of our generation," Evaine interrupted. 

"Thank you, little sister." Dominic waved a self-depreciating hand but smiled warmly at her nonetheless.  "As I was about to say, I trust his analysis of the situation.  He's adept at getting to the bottom of things and understanding complicated relationships, which is why he's on His Majesty's staff and not tucked away in some university tower." 

"There is one small flaw," Evaine ventured.

"What?" Richard eyed his sister suspiciously.

"Tomorrow is now today, and has been for several hours."

"Trust the historian to nit-pick the finer points."

"That's why you love me, little brother."

"Peace," Dominic demanded, raising one hand to cut off further sparring.

Alaric leaned back in his chair and stretched out his long legs.  In spite of the situation, he felt a sense of familial indulgence.  There was no lack of self-confidence in any of them, from what he could determine in such a short time.  Nor lack of the ability to size up a situation and take action.  The family resemblance was there too, though changed in the woman.  Dominic and Richard had his colouring, but the woman's fair face and grey eyes were framed by alarmingly short, raven hair.  Perhaps one of his heirs at some point had married into the Haldane line.  Or, Heaven forbid, had married an Arilan!  He put that thought aside, running his fingers across his eyes to invoke a fatigue banishing spell.  They would all need to rest, and soon. 

Dominic had noticed the gesture and suppressed his own desire to yawn.  He looked across at Richard.  "Do you think we should try to contact Duncan and Richenda now, or wait until morning?  Or rather, later this morning," he corrected, as he noted the sunlight that began to filter through the tower windows.

"What do you think, Your Grace?" Richard deferred the question to Alaric.  "You know them better than we do.  They may be more receptive to our contact if we attempt to contact one of them while they are asleep." 

"I think now would be best," Alaric responded after a moment's thought.  "They were likely up most of the rest of the night, trying to figure out where I went."  He stood up and brought the shiral crystal over to the table, centering the Gryphon claw between them.  "If you'll lend me whatever energy you can, I'll try for Richenda first."

Part 2 can be found here: https://www.rhemuthcastle.com/index.php/topic,1033.0.html

[Evie]

You know now I'm going to want to read more stories about the present-day Morgan family, but I won't be able to unless you write them....     Looking forward to seeing you post the rest of this story, at least!

[derynifanatic64]

Very interesting story--I love time traveling stories--I'm a major Doctor Who fan.

[Laurna]

This is a fun twist. Alaric in our time. Well done. Poor Richenda and Duncan, they are going to think the worst happened to Alaric.  Can't wait for more.

[Elkhound]

I'd be interested to see how Gwynnedian society had evolved since.  I presume that by the 21st C. it would no longer be an absolute monarchy, but apparently it isn't a republic, either--would it be a parliamentary democracy, with the King just a figurehead?  Or some uniquely Gwynnedian arrangement?

It would be interesting to see how some of the other countries evolved.  Torenth is sort of the equivalent of Russia, isn't it?  Did the Festils get shot and dropped down a mine shaft?  (Couldn't happen to a nicer family.)

[Jerusha]

I'm not entirely sure how Gwyneddan society has evolved yet, but there are a lot of twists and turns along the way.


Didn't the Festil line end with the death of Charissa? 

[Evie]

Didn't the Festil line end with the death of Charissa? 

I think so.  The Furstan line continues with Liam Lajos and Mahael (not to mention any other cadet branches of the family that might exist), but I think Charissa was the last of the Festillic branch of the family, since she had no heirs.  (I think she also had a sister or aunt--I forget which--but that Festil ended up becoming a nun, so that branch is a genealogical dead end also.)

[Elkhound]

Yes, fingers went ahead of brains--I meant Furstans.  Easy to confuse two lots of nasty Torenthi pieces of work whose family names both begin with 'F'.

[Evie]

But if Liam Lajos turned things around in the early 1100s (as he looked to be on his way to doing by 1128), then the Furstans would be just as decent a dynasty as the Haldanes in Future Torenth (unless of course Liam or some descendant of his gets deposed and replaced by some other baddie-sort of Furstan), so the Furstans of 2013, if that ruling house is still in power by then, might be quite benevolent sorts.  After all, as KK makes very clear in all of her books, it's not what house you're born into that makes you good or bad, or the occupation you are born into or choose as an adult, it's your own individual choices.  That's why there are good and bad nobility, good and bad clergy, and even good and bad Furstans. 

Now granted, the Festillic line of that family seemed more often than not to make bad choices.... 

[Elkhound]

But if Liam Lajos turned things around in the early 1100s (as he looked to be on his way to doing by 1128), then the Furstans would be just as decent a dynasty as the Haldanes in Future Torenth

Liam-Lajos seems like a nice boy, and well-meaning, but the rest of his family are (with a few exceptions) a nest of snakes, and I don't see him being able to turn things around.  And, as Gwynned is based on Britain, so Torenth is based on Russia, and we know what happened to Russia in OUR world.

[Evie]

It's true he's quite young, but then again, so was Kelson when he attained the throne, and Kelson managed to turn things in Gwynedd around quite a bit in just 7 years (from becoming King in 1121 to the events in KKB just 7 years later).  And in KKB, Liam showed a lot of promise of following in his mentor King's footsteps.  He's also not alone in his desire to make a fresh start with Torenthi/Gwyneddan relations.  He's managed to eliminate the primary "mover-and-shaker" among the "Bad Furstan" contingent--his uncle Mahael--exiled his other evil uncle, and his remaining uncle, Matyas, is an honorable man in a position to be a very powerful influence (along with Liam himself) on how Torenth will develop and change over the next generation, and possibly even for centuries to come.  

Keep in mind too that Torenth isn't meant to be an exact parallel to Russia, and is in fact also influenced just as heavily (judging by Torenthi names found in canon, anyway) by Germanic and Hungarian cultures.  It's more meant to be analogous to "exotic foreign culture over there in the East somewhere" rather than any specific location.  Given that much of the series had its start during the post-WW2, Cold War years, the Germanic and Slavic/Russian/East European feel of Torenth would have also added that subconscious level of "foreign lands that we have a history of mistrust towards" in how at least US/UK readers (the primary readership) perceived it.  But Torenth isn't Russia, or Germany, or anywhere else in Eastern Europe, and individuals (especially those in positions of power) can have a tremendous influence on how a nation develops for better or for worse, so the parallelism might go no further than that.  Torenth in 2013 might be a land still ruled by a despotic leader, or it might have undergone a revolution and turned things around that way (for better or for worse), but it could well have also chosen a more enlightened path for itself in the intervening centuries.  Unless KK decides to write a novel about that, we'll never know for sure if Liam's reign made a difference in the grand scheme of things, but it's certainly fun to speculate on the differences one frightened yet stout-hearted boy-King and a few staunch allies might have made on the outcome of things for an entire Kingdom, beginning in 1128.

[Elkhound]

You may be right.