'From the Drowned Depths of Time'
...and so it was that the poor crofter's daughter found herself alone, cold, hungry and terrified, miles from any hope of warmth or other human comfort. The men had burned her father's holding, slaughtered her family, and stolen their livestock. Weeping, smeared with blood and stumbling through a moon lit field in the Northern highlands of Scotland, she seemed an apparition, a banshee. Where did she run to? She did not know. Why did she run? Because that was all that she could do.
And so came she to a large stone in a clearing free of grass and vegatation, as if some fell power had prevented natural life from flourishing here. Her people had legends about this rock-some claimed that Satan had cast it here after using it as a spear in a battle with an ancient hero. Older legends claimed that the Kingdom of the faeries had many doors to the mortal world, and that this was one of them. Still others called it the Stone King-claiming that in ages past a man of mighty stature had come here to die of a broken heart when his beloved was slain . While the legends varied, the underlying message was the same-here was a place of power. And so had she come.
Hurling herself upon the lichen-coated rock, she cried her fury to the heavens. She demanded answers. Why her family, she cried? Why her? Who would make the evil men who had taken everything from her suffer as she had? Who or what would be her instrument of revenge?
And in that moment-as her blood, pain and tears flowed into the unyielding rock, as her pain filled soul cried out for aid, as the full moon shone down in its bright glory-a doorway opened.
Seeming to form from the air, a tall man of handsome and fey aspect appeared behind her. Sensing a new presence, she whirled in a panic. Dressed in the raiment of a king, with a crown of unknown metals on his brow, the apparition seemed to draw what little warmth remained in the air the girl breathed. In a quavering voice, the girl asked, "Who are you?"
It answered, voice echoing hollowly, "I am your deliverance. And you are mine."
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And so it came to pass that the spirit explained itself, after calming the girl. He told of how it had come to pass that he was the spirit of the last of the faeries-the fair ones. Once the only folk that lived in this land, his people had been slain over the millenia by men that desired an end to all things 'strange', or 'inhuman', as men are wont to do. His people's holy places had been torn down, their homes destroyed, and their lives snuffed out like so many candles in a storm until only he remained. Rather than die, and let his race die with him, he had sealed his spirit away into this large stone. "As living men reckon time," he whispered sadly, "I have been sealed here for over two thousand years. I long to return to the Endless Fields, where all who perish go, but cannot until I have left a legacy that will ensure my vengeance. Our vengeance." Seeming to stare deep into the depths of her soul, he grated out this pronouncement. "You wish to be revenged upon the murderers of your family. I will give you the power you need to do that. In return, you will give me a child of my people's blood."
The girl visibly paled. "But-Great Lord, pardon-how am I to do so? I have only recently reached my first flowering-and besides that, you are spirit and I am flesh and blood... How can such be?"
The spirit looked upon her graveley for what seemed an eternity. "Accept my help and it will be done. That is all that you need to know. Refuse me and I will wait for the next desperate soul to cross my path, though I feel that that will be far in the future, and if locked here for another thousand years I will go mad. This I know."
The girl visibly steeled her resolve and stared the spirit in the eyes. "Then I accept." Thunder boomed in the distance at her words.
The spirit sighed in release. "Then let it be done."
And he was gone. The girl blinked in surprise and looked around. Spinning in a circle she glanced in all directions, surprise and shock registering on her face. "A bargain was made, spirit! Do not seek to cheat me!" The mournful wind was her only answer. Then, in time, a voice spake from within her.
You shall name his house Stewart, which is close enough to my name as to not matter. He shall seem human from the outside-and will die like any other man-but carries within him the power and wisdom of his race. Through him my people will be reborn-as his house multiplies and his descendants are granted dominion over man, so shall my vengeance be complete. As for your power, I grant you the abilities of our most powerful priestesses. You can harness the power of the elements to your own ends, although your powers will wane with time, and will depart completely with the birth of my son. As such do what you will to your enemies, but secure my child a place in the mortal world before they desert you. Fail to do this, and I will excercise vengeance upon you in a most terrible way.
And so it was that she found that she could harness the elements-lightning, fires, winds, the creatures of the forest-all were hers to command. And so she went forth and found her tormentors, and put them to death in the most painful manner possible. And while she reveled in her newfound powers and her justly earned vengeance, she found that her pregnancy was beginning to show-and she knew that she had very little time to fulfill her last part of the bargain. Fearing the spirit, and feeling her newfound powers diminishing, she made her way to the court of the King of Scots to see what she could do to find the child a place in the world of men.
Using the black arts of deceit and seduction she employed her powers to seduce the King of Scots away from his wife. Once she had him in her bed she was able to convince him that her unborn child should be given lands, claiming that he was of divine origin and would make a great defender of the realm. Putting stock in these heretical beliefs, bewitched as he was, the ensorcelled King agreed.
Very soon after he issued a proclamation entitling her future son to the lands of Strathclyde, and allowed her to take possession of those lands until such time as he was born. The King's family and the peers of the court were not amused, to say the least, and tried to make him see the error of his ways. In time, however, the Sorceress manipulated the majority of them into agreement, and slew the ones that she could not convince. And so she made her way to her new lands, and in time gave birth. Though she died in the birthing, she managed to render a confession to her chaplain before her death, as at the last she had a desire to be welcomed into the Kingdom of Heaven despite the evil that she had wrought. And so this manuscript is made up in part of her words to him. As for the boy, she named him Robert, first of the House of Stewart.
And this is his story, and that of his children.
And nothing was the same again.
...and so it was that the poor crofter's daughter found herself alone, cold, hungry and terrified, miles from any hope of warmth or other human comfort. The men had burned her father's holding, slaughtered her family, and stolen their livestock. Weeping, smeared with blood and stumbling through a moon lit field in the Northern highlands of Scotland, she seemed an apparition, a banshee. Where did she run to? She did not know. Why did she run? Because that was all that she could do.
And so came she to a large stone in a clearing free of grass and vegatation, as if some fell power had prevented natural life from flourishing here. Her people had legends about this rock-some claimed that Satan had cast it here after using it as a spear in a battle with an ancient hero. Older legends claimed that the Kingdom of the faeries had many doors to the mortal world, and that this was one of them. Still others called it the Stone King-claiming that in ages past a man of mighty stature had come here to die of a broken heart when his beloved was slain . While the legends varied, the underlying message was the same-here was a place of power. And so had she come.
Hurling herself upon the lichen-coated rock, she cried her fury to the heavens. She demanded answers. Why her family, she cried? Why her? Who would make the evil men who had taken everything from her suffer as she had? Who or what would be her instrument of revenge?
And in that moment-as her blood, pain and tears flowed into the unyielding rock, as her pain filled soul cried out for aid, as the full moon shone down in its bright glory-a doorway opened.
Seeming to form from the air, a tall man of handsome and fey aspect appeared behind her. Sensing a new presence, she whirled in a panic. Dressed in the raiment of a king, with a crown of unknown metals on his brow, the apparition seemed to draw what little warmth remained in the air the girl breathed. In a quavering voice, the girl asked, "Who are you?"
It answered, voice echoing hollowly, "I am your deliverance. And you are mine."
-----------------------------------------------------------
And so it came to pass that the spirit explained itself, after calming the girl. He told of how it had come to pass that he was the spirit of the last of the faeries-the fair ones. Once the only folk that lived in this land, his people had been slain over the millenia by men that desired an end to all things 'strange', or 'inhuman', as men are wont to do. His people's holy places had been torn down, their homes destroyed, and their lives snuffed out like so many candles in a storm until only he remained. Rather than die, and let his race die with him, he had sealed his spirit away into this large stone. "As living men reckon time," he whispered sadly, "I have been sealed here for over two thousand years. I long to return to the Endless Fields, where all who perish go, but cannot until I have left a legacy that will ensure my vengeance. Our vengeance." Seeming to stare deep into the depths of her soul, he grated out this pronouncement. "You wish to be revenged upon the murderers of your family. I will give you the power you need to do that. In return, you will give me a child of my people's blood."
The girl visibly paled. "But-Great Lord, pardon-how am I to do so? I have only recently reached my first flowering-and besides that, you are spirit and I am flesh and blood... How can such be?"
The spirit looked upon her graveley for what seemed an eternity. "Accept my help and it will be done. That is all that you need to know. Refuse me and I will wait for the next desperate soul to cross my path, though I feel that that will be far in the future, and if locked here for another thousand years I will go mad. This I know."
The girl visibly steeled her resolve and stared the spirit in the eyes. "Then I accept." Thunder boomed in the distance at her words.
The spirit sighed in release. "Then let it be done."
And he was gone. The girl blinked in surprise and looked around. Spinning in a circle she glanced in all directions, surprise and shock registering on her face. "A bargain was made, spirit! Do not seek to cheat me!" The mournful wind was her only answer. Then, in time, a voice spake from within her.
You shall name his house Stewart, which is close enough to my name as to not matter. He shall seem human from the outside-and will die like any other man-but carries within him the power and wisdom of his race. Through him my people will be reborn-as his house multiplies and his descendants are granted dominion over man, so shall my vengeance be complete. As for your power, I grant you the abilities of our most powerful priestesses. You can harness the power of the elements to your own ends, although your powers will wane with time, and will depart completely with the birth of my son. As such do what you will to your enemies, but secure my child a place in the mortal world before they desert you. Fail to do this, and I will excercise vengeance upon you in a most terrible way.
And so it was that she found that she could harness the elements-lightning, fires, winds, the creatures of the forest-all were hers to command. And so she went forth and found her tormentors, and put them to death in the most painful manner possible. And while she reveled in her newfound powers and her justly earned vengeance, she found that her pregnancy was beginning to show-and she knew that she had very little time to fulfill her last part of the bargain. Fearing the spirit, and feeling her newfound powers diminishing, she made her way to the court of the King of Scots to see what she could do to find the child a place in the world of men.
Using the black arts of deceit and seduction she employed her powers to seduce the King of Scots away from his wife. Once she had him in her bed she was able to convince him that her unborn child should be given lands, claiming that he was of divine origin and would make a great defender of the realm. Putting stock in these heretical beliefs, bewitched as he was, the ensorcelled King agreed.
Very soon after he issued a proclamation entitling her future son to the lands of Strathclyde, and allowed her to take possession of those lands until such time as he was born. The King's family and the peers of the court were not amused, to say the least, and tried to make him see the error of his ways. In time, however, the Sorceress manipulated the majority of them into agreement, and slew the ones that she could not convince. And so she made her way to her new lands, and in time gave birth. Though she died in the birthing, she managed to render a confession to her chaplain before her death, as at the last she had a desire to be welcomed into the Kingdom of Heaven despite the evil that she had wrought. And so this manuscript is made up in part of her words to him. As for the boy, she named him Robert, first of the House of Stewart.
And this is his story, and that of his children.
And nothing was the same again.
