Cael Brannyn's page

The Winter was ending in Ghael though there was still a coat of snow on the ground that caused all the people of the clans to still be bundled in furs when walking about. Inside the camp by the fire, one of the more boisterous members had drunk himself again into a stupor. People would say something but he was the son of Brannyn leader of the Linnorm clan, dispossessed among many clans due to constant wars but no less threatening than any of the other clans. Several others were on their binging spree of the newly acquired mead including his two older brothers Eilif, who was destined to become one of the next leaders of the clan as soon as his marriage to the chieftan’s daughter, Tine, was complete. His other brother was always in competition with the Eilif and Cael seeking to improve his station but Cael had grown stronger than Svalk. And Svalk had grown jealous. This rigged drinking contest was no different.
Cael drank until he passed out by the fire, his hair a tangled mess but he dreamed. His dreams were always insightful to say the least. This time he barely got into the dream before he was awakened by his sister, Asta. She shook him awake. “Cael…Cael…Cael!” she said. He responded with a half grunt half recognition. “Time to go home.” Asta said.
“I’m not going home with you. I don’t know you.” Cael said unsteadily.
“Well then how about you take me home?”
“Tarryn would be mad if we did that.”
“I’m your sister you troll.”
“No your not. Your too tall to be one of my sisters.”
Well, how about you stand up.”
Asta helps her brother Cael to an upright position he stretches and yawns and cracks a couple vertebrae in his back and neck. Upon the completeion of a long yawn he looks down and speaks, “Asta, when did you get here? There is a party and Svalk has the best drink.”
Aste looks up at her brother, her baby blues locking with the blue-grey of his eyes and speaks sweetly but sternly, “Tarryn set me to get you. She wants you home.”
“Ast, tell her I’ll be home as soon as the Bard finishes the last song.”
Asta having known her brothers fits had learned it is best to ignore such events when mentioned whether than point out that there is no Bard. This isn’t the first and only event that occurs. He will frequently be imagining battles that never took place or speak to “clansmen” that aren’t there or some that even died long ago. Sometimes it’s tribal totems he imagines speaking too. She pities him because of these fits for he would make one of the better chieftans, suited well beyond his abilities if it wasn’t for these fever dreams.
The Bard finishes and Asta help Cael home. Cael hugs his sister and says “Thanks sis.” He steps into his tent that is covered in furs of his own kills and immediately disrobes and greets his lifemate Tarryn, whose pale skin glistens in the fire lit and seems to make her blonde hair dance in the waves of heat. She is a petite beauty and he shows great affection towards her.
That night they make passionate love with one another except she has learned not to let him fall asleep too early or the fever dreams will take them. Some nights she distracts him with stories or allowing Hagrath and Warg play, their ferret and guard dog. Tonight, however there were more pressing matters on her mind.
“When are you going to talk to the healer?” she asks.
“What. About my dreams. Never. It’s just our forefathers talking to me. Telling me how to grow to become the leader our tribes need.”
“Our tribes? I thought there were only two. Yours and mine.”
He grasps her and kisses her. “More. Yes there is the Linnorm and the Stag. There is also the Wolf, the Raven, and many more. Imagine all of them combined under one flag. Under our flag.”
“So your not going to get the healer.”
“No woman, I am sound. My arms are strong and the ancients tell me all the wisdom I need to rule.”
“I just don’t want to lose you. Your family is already widespread or dead. All but your youngest sister has married. Svalk loves competitions with you and Eilif seems too aloof for anyones good.”
“As long as Firinna’s fires fuel my heart I will make you queen of the tribes. And everyone will be fearful of your fury. Queen Tarryn.”
The questions started to drift off and sleep took them. That night, like all the ones before, his ancestors came to him and he dreamt, only this time it was more vivid and graphic than ever before. He was in the heat of a battle, side by side with ancestors from across the centuries battling all of their foes and the ones that came before and the ones that came before. He fought alongside his clan, and Tarryn, Asta, Eilif and Svark. He fought alongside men in strange metal dresses and men who wielded the powers of the gods. Still his arm stood strong and he swung with no hint of exhaustion. Then the rest of the clans joined the battle and put to rest some dark skin elves back in the earth never to rise again. And they learned to fear Cael, son of Brannyn, son of Rory, son of Llewellyn, son of Eilif of the Linnorm.
In the morning he woke. Saying his goodbyes along with a string of “I love you’s” to Tarryn he left to claim the destiny that was laid out in his dreams and follow the path that his ancestors were pushing him on.
Tarryn and Asta were visibily upset and made him promise that he would come back regularly. He agreed and would have done so even if they hadn’t asked. He loved both of them for different reasons and both had his heart. It was then that he realized his greatest fear, and that was losing the ones that were placed in the protective walls of his heart. He knew that any threat to them would be dealt with the utmost hatred and that threat would come to a violent end.