Lady De Faloncrie

Lady Macalye (Malka) de Faloncrie

"Malka?"

She was dressed in warm clothes, though they were worn and clearly had
been mended many a time, but who would wear nice garb out into the
brambles and thorny woods she was in? She stood on the edge of a
waterfall, looking both out and down. Down, some hundred feet below the
river went crashing to the earth in a frothy, powerful mixture. Out,
from her viewpoint, high on the top of this hill she could see Camelot,
and beyond it the sea, a shining proof of what can be accomplished by
one man. Macalye did not believe in the one god that was so often
brought up into conversations of religion anymore. For all she loved
Camelot, she did not think it was some emblem from this god.

"Malka...."

She closed her eyes slightly and leaned into the wind, trusting balance
and luck as she breathed in the misty air, filled with so many scents,
most of which she could identify, but some were so faint, or foreign
she could not. She stood there, a silent figure, though she stood tall,
swaying from moment to moment as she basked in the perfection of the
moment, blending in and becoming difficult to see. She did not know or
care that someone was saying her name, her nickname, but she knew that
she did not want to be found by this intruder, whether real or
imagined. Whoever it was though, was bothering the birds and the
squirrels, for they were calling out cries of warning and anger at
being interrupted. A tentive hand rested on her shoulder then.

"Lady Macalye, stop ignoring me, please."

She opened her eyes, and turned to smile slightly at the intruder. It
was a instinctive reaction, though the smile became more honest when
she realized whom it was. "Greetings this fine morning, squire Egan.
Why hast thou come out here?"

"Merlin wishes to speak with thee this morn, m'lady." Egan said
pleasantly, his squire garb slightly rumpled and a bit dusty from
coming out to find her.

"M'ladying me now, Egan? Surely Merlin could have delievered his
message himself?" She asked curiously.

"Indeed Malka, but it gave me a chance to escape my duties, and see
thee for a few moments." He answered somewhat sheepishly, though his
hazel eyes were almost laughing as they watched what her reaction would
be.

"Ahhhhhh." Macalye replied, then the response she'd been considering
died as Egan kissed her deeply. When they broke away, she smiled
sweetly at him. Quickly, perhaps to quickly, Egan said goodday, and
hurried back off into the woods, to return to his duties in Camelot.
She stayed there for a long moment, till she couldn't hear him any
longer, then turned her attentions back to the waterfall. Barely
noticible to anyone, even people who had come here hundreds of times,
was a carefully cut stair, down the side of the waterfall, the steps
vanishing behind it. She glanced around once, just to assure herself
she wasn't being watched, then started down them, placing her feet
carefully, so she would not fall.
The steps lead to a large cave, the rushing water prevented anyone from
hearing into what was said in the cave, and depending on where she was,
she could always tell if someone was outside trying to get in. This was
her secret place, her castle of sorts. The land it lay on, was hers,
and though there was, in the south, a proper castle built by her only
husband now five years dead, she rarely stayed there. This cave, now
decorated and well-protected was more her lair of saftey than that
castle had ever been.
There was no one in this area of the cave, right now. Macalye suspected
that further in there were people, but this was her section, and so far
as anyone knew, the only access to it came through the heavy oaken
doors that had been constructed, but the stairs had been made by her,
so that incase of attack she could still escape. The stair went further
down, winding down to the bottom of the fall, where two small boats
lay, for use in emergancy.
It was, perhaps, overdoing it, but she felt it was important to have
this measure of protection. As the Lady de Falconcrie she had many
enemies, granted by the men who had been in her life, and many more
nobles who wanted what was hers. While he had been ill, her husband had
helped her make these preperations, for she had been most ademant, that
she had no intentions to remarry anyone if he was to die. She was still
cautious though. Her affair with Egan was careful, since she did not
want to have any more rumours spread around about her, nor him. Daily
she practiced swordship and archery, and spent time doing general court
duties for her people.
Even while doing all this, she still found time, not only for herself,
but to be with other people, and keep up social apperances, a very
important thing for a lady such as herself. Macalye had come here for a
book however, taking time away from routine, which stated that she
should be visiting the Queen and whatever other females at the court
now, in Camelot, to get this book. She did not think they would miss
her though, they all rattled far to much as they worked on their
stichery. She was a quiet, contemplative person, who only spoke after
making the best decision she could. Despite this trait, she was not a
deliberator, her actions and decisions were quickly made.
She found the book she was looking for, on a shelf with two others. She
actually had 6 of these priceless volumes, three here, one in Camelot,
one in her castle, and the last kept in a secret location far, far from
her home. She wrapped the book into a waterproof skin lying nearby, and
glanced around once more, wondering if she should take a cloak, before
heading out of her cave chamber to return to Cam