Hawthorne Hale Mercy by Ashley Marie Burgess

The Incredible Journey Book 1

Belta, a kingdom forged between seven brothers. Since the great wars had ended, all seemed at peace, but little did the new palace walls know that a treacherous seed had been planted under its foundation. King Marvis, the second eldest of the brothers had grown tired of war and built a culture of his own.

Inside the palace, he marketed hope to the poor and aid to the sick, in time his son, Hawthorne, was born, Hawthorne would become, a great king but not without challenges. His brother McGlaire would raise an army against him for centuries to undo the kingdom's great accomplishments. Now in the modern-day times, with eternal youth, Hawthorne struggles to overcome his brother’s attacks. Could compassion heal the wounds between them or simply make matters worse?

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Excerpt from Hawthorne Hale Mercy © Copyright 2024 Ashley Marie Burgess

Chapter Six: Growing Generations

The Oriel’s necklace was passed down from one generation to the next. It was a sacred fortune of a parent’s true love. Hawthorne’s necklace was heavy and dull, not overly shiny, but rustic and gold; its stone was colored a dark burgundy.

Tensions now began to shift as the boys had grown older in the castle. Hawthorne’s black childhood curls had turned to waves and his baby blues to crystal grey. McGlaire was much taller but with a sharp jawline unlike his brother’s. His eyes were still the same soft buttery hazel. He fit the royal stamp to the letter; clean cut, straight black haircut, modern tailored clothing, and fastened rapier.

Often, McGlaire found his brother sleeping in the garden rather than working in the training yard. Displeased with his brother’s attendance, McGlaire refined his posture in swordsmanship and had grown a much stronger alliance with the elite guard.

“Take this letter to Pembark the Hunter,” McGlaire commanded, removing a scroll from his pocket. The guard hurried on his way as Hawthorne entered the docking scene. Large griffins lined the area, some of silver and others of bronze. The main statue in the arena was polished quartz and resembled a man riding a winged horse. McGlaire studied the structure as Hawthorne stumbled in.

“Brother, you’re finally going to fly with me, aye?” he said, leaning on McGlaire’s shoulder. McGlaire held his stance with one arm behind his back and closed his eyes.

“Father said it is best that I pick a griffin this year, although I would much prefer to stay on the ground.” “Bah,” Hawthorne pushed through the birds, causing a cluster of feathers to arise.

“Old Celestial will do fine for you,” he pulled out a white griffin which had huge talons and a piercing stare.  “Ces isn’t that fast, but he might teach you a thing or two.” Hawthorne nudged McGlaire, handing him the reins. He stared at the creature only to be almost knocked off his feet as Hawthorne mounted a younger griffin.

“Forward, brother!” Hawthorne yelled and laughed into the distance. “Ah, I haven’t got time for your preposterous antics!” McGlaire growled as he disappeared into the clouds. There was a moment when the clouds seemed frozen. It was as if Hawthorne had fallen off the cliffside, but soon, he abruptly came spinning past Celestial and McGlaire. He shouted in excitement as McGlaire attempted to catch them. Puffs of clouds trickled behind them as they entered the open aerial fields.

The two birds glided together, although Celestial was gaining speed. McGlaire was clinging to the neck of his griffin as if afraid even to breathe. Hawthorne gestured to him in a winged motion and shouted at the top of his lungs, to let go of the reins. “You’re an absolute lunatic, Hale!” McGlaire lightened his grip. The letter had reached Pembark the Hunter, and he was awaiting their arrival just past the turret towers. He readied his bow; with even a single shot, Pembark could bring down a bear or even a moose. He rustled through the edge of the bushes, studying his target. With a downwind shot, he could aim just up from their position and hit Hawthorne directly off his griffin. He pulled back the string, ready to fire, but as he did so, Hawthorne dove directly upward with the young bird, and the arrow missed.

Its target had now become Old Celestial. The arrow penetrated his hind leg, and the bird cried out, flapping its wings and tossing McGlaire off.

“Hawthorne!” he shouted as he began to gain velocity towards the city below. Hawthorne dug his fingers into the bird’s feathers and attempted to catch his brother. The two reached for one another’s hand. As the city became more pronounced into view, Hawthorne grabbed his brother by the sleeve, ripping and tearing it to the collar. Nonetheless, he was much stronger and threw McGlaire onto the back of the griffin. The three, bird and men landed hard, sliding into the marketplace.

There were chickens clucking and people clattering after the dust had settled. Hawthorne pulled his brother out of the pile of flour sacks. McGlaire was outright furious, not over the landing but more over the fact that Hawthorne had torn his sleeve. The two walked back to the castle, still persistently manic at one another, but Hawthorne had no clue that the arrow was meant for him.

As the two re-entered the courtyard, their father stood with Celestial at his side. The injury had been bandaged, but the bird was in terrible shape. McGlaire stopped and immediately bowed his head in submission. Marvis pushed past him, holding onto the arrow with his grip, “This arrow could have been meant for you, my son. Such a careless act will not be tolerated. How dare you leave the protection of the towers without armor?” McGlaire sneered as his brother was finally being disciplined for not following the rules. Although McGlaire’s sleeve was torn, shiny bits of steel behind it could be seen on his chest. Marvis grabbed Hawthorne’s cloak and pulled it loose around his neck, revealing the Oriel necklace.

“Do you not understand that I gave you my life when I brought you into this world?” He held the stone in his hand.

“To lose you would cripple this kingdom and me.” His scolding was not going the way McGlaire had hoped, and he suddenly interjected. “Enough, Trevnor; leave and have your mother mend your shirt.” Marvis waved him away. In his snarling rage, McGlaire shoved a guard into the fountain. Marvis let out a sigh.

“You saved your younger brother nonetheless.” He patted Hawthorne on the back and put his shoulder around him. Hawthorne steadied his father as the two gossiped into the castle.

The next day, Hawthorne sat on the open windowsill staring at an arrow. He recognized it and yet wasn’t sure. Tossing it aside, he grabbed his satchel and his sword and met Commander Achylles in the hall. They were being sent out on a journey today to accompany the supply order from the neighboring kingdom. He returned to the docks and boarded the ship. Looking over the edge, large beasts known as Tamorils supported the wooden ship. To compensate for their slow speeds, ships were built around the docile creatures. Tamorils have large turtle-shaped stone bodies and large white wings.

Hawthorne loved the openness of the sky as he listened to the flap of the lowering sails. A small nest of seagulls began to circle a man hunched over the railing.

“Nice shirt, brother,” Hawthorne said, patting his brother on the back. McGlaire waved his hand to shoo Hawthorne away.

“Sky sickness, huh?” McGlaire leaned back against the railing.

“No, just the thought of flying with you has me nauseous.” McGlaire’s outfit was much more tailored than the last; striking stitches of gold masked the leather breastplate. He was only carrying a dagger, which wasn’t like him.

“Why are you not prepared for battle?” Hawthorne joked.

“You’re a fool,” McGlaire turned back to the railing.

“The Kingdom of Compromise is the second utmost peaceful territory in all of the seven regions.” Hawthorne shoved a bucket under him.

“Yes, but first we must cross the mountains of Perdition, and the air will be very thin; a great place for pirates.” McGlaire held his mouth, “You’ve heard too many tavern tales,” he said. A loud whistle echoed over the crew and the shipyard. In mere seconds, the sets of wings on the ship unfolded, and the undocking process began. Men scurried from corner to corner of the ship, untying knots and lifting the sails. Hawthorne made his way to the upper part of the ship where the commander was. The commander let out a final call as the last few men trickled onto the ship and the small engine-like thrusters cast off. Little boiler furnaces fueled the thrusters on the deck below as

Hawthorne watched through the opening hatch. Soon the ship was on track, and the three men headed back into the main quarters. A hologram-like map displayed the mountains of Perdition and the neighboring kingdoms of Compromise and Wrath. The entire kingdoms were named after the wars and their kings, brothers of the original order. The men planned to venture away from the storm’s path, which wasn’t a normal condition. McGlaire protested because “Dead Man’s Valley” isn’t just a hoax for a name.

“Don’t worry, brother, I’ll protect you,” Hawthorne joked. McGlaire snarled at him. In this situation, Hawthorne had befriended the sailors more than the elite guards. He was right at home here, helping with the sails and singing the songs while McGlaire spent his time wishing for an end.