Young Writers Society

The people of the city of Infanitio gathered around an iron cage poking and cooing at the

tiny figure inside. The mob of curious minds and fingers encased the slowly

moving wagon in the square of the Lapis

Lamina district, with all of its glamour and pearls. The mob was beginning

to rock the wagon moving the figure closer and closer to the wrought iron bars

that held it within. The driver of the wagon shouted and swore at the hungry

crowd. As a response the crowd slammed into the wagon sending the figure flying

against the chains that bound it. The figure hit the side of the cage and was

immediately seized by the carnivorous grips of the crowd. The claw like nails

of the women dug into the figures skin with ruby red blood seeping through the

paper thin cuts. The bear sized hands of men grabbed at the figures hairs and

clothes ripping in feverish hunger. The wagon tipped back and the figure rolled

toward the other side getting tangled in the chains as it went. The crowd began

to laugh at the figure as it choked and struggled against the chains.

A new wave

of curiosity slammed into the wagon forcing it completely onto its side. The

cage the held the figure rolled across the beautifully carved marble road. The

crowd shifted and attacked the cage full on. Their hands and arms were reaching

and grabbing at the figure, more hands at the hair and legs, feeling and

pulling them. As large proportions of the figures hair was ripped out it

watched in tragic fear as people marveled at the crunchy strands muttering

words like ‘what dark hair’ and other observations of the like. The hands that

were clasped around its feet pulled it away from the attack of the hair grabbing

hands. In contrast the fingers that were wrapped around the figures ankles and

toes scraped and scratched at the skin, as if they were trying to rip it from the

figures body. The figure screamed as it was torn in half by the crowd. For

several moments of pure agony the thought that it might die here wrapped in

chains while being pulled apart by a crowd that seemed starved.

Crack!

The driver

of the wagon began swinging the medal whip he held in his hands, the crowd

dispersed where the whip landed fearing that their expensive garments would be

torn by the tainted metal. The Mursaat also flooded into the courtyard, their

gold and black armor gleamed in the golden light of the sun. With swords, axes,

and spears unsheathed they pushed the crowd away from the wagon and cage. The

hands released hair and leg from their claw like grasps, the figure fell again

to the marble floor. The driver approached the cage and knelt down in front of

the figures face. The driver asked the figure was alright and the figure

nodded.

The Mursaat continued to hold back

the crowd. Two of them approached the cage and spoke with the driver in quiet

and hushed voices. They gestured toward the cage and the driver nodded. The two

Mursaat guards walked over to the cage their eyes traveled up and down the

figures body as they wrapped their hands around the opposite sides of the cage.

They hoisted the cage up into the air and carried it back toward the wagon.

They loaded the cage onto the wagon and tied it down. The driver climbed back

onto the front of the wagon. The two guards remained next to the cage,

Crossbows and Bolt Shooters at the ready. For the remainder of the journey to

its final destination the wagon, cage, driver, and figure went un-disturbed.

It was an

interesting spectacle to watch. The Maker of Death and his apprentice, the

current Head of the Izak Chimmyra Guild, Locke Myk stood on top of a nearby

building observing the flock of people that swarmed around the wagon. There had

been rumors floating about the city about the arrival of a True Foreigner. Of

course these were only rumors to the ears of the two gentlemen but, now the

rumors were true. They had watched the foreigners’ arrival at the docks a few

hours earlier, at first the unloading of the ship was nothing out of the

ordinary, at first it was just standard supplies that every ship carried but,

the moment that the top of the iron cage came into view the plague of a crowd descended

upon them. Neither gentlemen could see the figure that was chained and locked

inside like an animal. They could only see the darkest head of hair that they

had ever seen in their entire lives (and for the Maker that was a very long

time).

The gentlemen

had followed the cage all the way to the great marble square of the Lapis Lamina district, known for its

marble streets and golden gates. The wealthiest of the wealthy lived here among

the glittering street lights and glass mansions. The plain wood wagon stuck out

like a sore thumb among all the glitter and glam, the cruel curiosity of the

crowd even more so.

Of the two

gentlemen the Maker was wary of the supposed foreigner. Outsiders always seemed

to cause problems among all the peoples of Infanito.

He had only come across two foreigners in his hundred years of life and both

times the foreigners had cause such uproar across the city that it seemed the

world was to come crashing down. The other gentlemen Senore Myk was however, buzzing

with excitement. The prospect of an Outsider (in his mind) in the city was

well… he didn’t know. But the thought of an Outsider all together was exciting.

And neither of them could wait to see the outcome of this foreigner.

There was a

dramatic change of scenery, from sparkling streets and golden gates the

wonderful diamond world fell away when the wagon crossed the threshold into the

next district. It became dark and dreary; the roads are crooked and uneven. The

buildings were tilted and on the verge of falling apart. The people were also

dramatically different, the people here were dressed in poor rags that barely

clung to their skin, their figures were boney and thin like sickly skeletons

that clung to the earth refusing to leave and pass on. At least the glittering crowds

of barbaric dolls were no longer attacking the sanctity of the cage.

The figure

opened its eyes to the cool blue of the morning sea. A soft breeze fluttered

across its skin leaving a small taste on its lips. The small ship that carried

the cage, driver, and the two Mursaat guards rocked calmly against the waves.

The figure looked about, the driver of the wagon was fast asleep his snoring

reminded the figure of happier days when it could hear father’s animal like

snoring from through the paper thin wall of the house. Mother used to sing as

she prepared the poor meals for the family and how Grandpa would sit on the

rickety porch and smoke for hours and hours at a time. The figure let a small

smile slip onto its face. The smile quickly vanished when one of the Mursaat

grunted at the figure. It ducked its head between its torso and knees,

attempting to hide itself. The guard that had grunted walked over to the cage

and held something out to the figure; it looked like bread, nice flakey bread.

The guard held it just beyond the iron bar, just beyond the figures reach. The

guard laughed and threw the piece of bread into the sea. The guard walked away

calling the figure foul names as he left. The figure heard another grunt though

this one was more out of frustration and annoyance. The other guard jumped down

in front of the cage causing the figure to jump back as far as the chains would

allow. The guard mumbled something like ‘jerk’ before walking over to the side

of the cage. He pulled a small piece of bread from a leather pouch that was

strapped to the side of his gleaming armor. He squatted down to the figures

level matching it. He held out the piece of bread through the bars, close

enough for the figure to reach. Timidly the figure reached for the bread, its small

pale hand greatly contrasted the hand of the guard which was tanned and large.

The figure gently took the bread and brought it to its lips, the bread was

delicious. Another smile came across the figures small and childish face, the

guard having seen the smile smirked and sat down next to the cage. He offered

another piece of bread and this time the figure took it with less hesitation

and ate it happily.

The guard

observed the figure; he didn’t see the figure as an Outsider or a foreigner

really. He saw the figure as a lost child, unlike his “partner” who saw the

figure as a “dirty Hell given Outsider”. He empathized with the figure since he

himself was once a lost child. He started talking to the figure though it was a

one-sided conversation; the only response he would get was a slight shake or

nod of the head.

An hour

later the ship docked in the lowly and slanted docks of the Storn Galla district. The guard that had

spoken with the figure stayed at its side as the crane hoisted the cage up and

off the boat.

The guard

was uneasy of the wary eyes that bore into the small figure of the cage next to

him. He turned and saw that the figure had withdrawn and coward into a small

corner of the cage shaking. He could hear small laughter coming from the other

side of the wagon. No doubt his “partner” was poking fun at the figure,

taunting it, almost begging for a reaction of any kind. But the figure just sat

there in the corner trembling with fear. He raised his hand and gently tapped

the bars close to the figures hand. He offered two of his fingers to the figure

and it took them gladly looping two of its fingers with his. His “partner”

snorted and laughed again, the figure strengthened its grip.

The guard

turned his attention back to the streets. People wearing ragged and torn cloths

stood against the crumbling walls of their district a look of fear plastered

onto their thin, boney faces. His foot slightly tripped on the uneven roads

beneath him. He heard a grunt of frustration coming from the other side of the

wagon; he guessed that his “partner” had also tripped. He heard the figure gasp

and he felt its grip tighten again. He looked toward the figure and inwardly

cringed, its face was twisted and contorted with several expressions; fear,

terror, uncertainty. The guard didn’t understand the need for such expressions

but, he didn’t see the world as the figure did.

Up at the

end of the road the shape of a hunched crippled man walked into the middle of

the road. He stared at the wagon for a moment before he began to walk towards

it. The driver brought the wagon to a halt and the guard felt the figure shake.

It took a long time for the man to reach the side of the wagon the guard

stiffened tightening his grip on the figures interlocked fingers. The man

examined the figures face, neck, arms, legs, and torso. When his eyes, landed

on the intertwined fingers of the figure and guard, he lifted his upper lip in

disgust and sneered at the figure. The man turned and walked back toward the

driver, the guard heard a sigh of relief. He turned his head toward the figure

and what he saw surprised him. There was a relaxed smile on the figures face it

was barely there but it was there nonetheless. Heat rose to his cheeks and he

looked away and turned his attention toward the driver who was now in a heated

argument with the man from earlier. Footsteps rounded the back of the wagon and

he saw his partner approach the two men. He was about to step forward but the

tightening grip on his fingers, stopped him. He turned but before he could turn

completely towards the figure a soft and almost melodic voice filled his ears,

‘he’s going to die.’

Not a

second after the words were spoken an air slicing noise rang out amongst the

black fog that clung to the streets, the figure screamed, and thick blood

sprayed across the wagon and his armor. His partner fell to the ground in a

bloody heap; a cross-bolt was imbedded into the middle of his forehead. He

ripped himself away from the figures grip and pulled out the Steel Bolt Shooter

that was attached to his back. He held it up looking for the shooter; he saw a

faint glint of metal. Without hesitation he pulled the trigger, a small metal

bolt no bigger than a straw flew from the mouth of the Bolt Shooter. A slight

whistle followed the tail of the bolt. He heard a hollow sound, the sound of

metal sinking into flesh. A guttural howl rang out from the dense fog and the

figure of a scrawny man fell to the ground, cold and dead. When he turned he

saw the horrified faces of the driver and the man but, they weren’t looking at

him, they were looking at the empty cage and loose chains that once held the

figure.

‘Fools, the

lot of them,’ the figure thought as it ran over the slippery roofs. What

happened wasn’t planned it was just the perfect opportunity to escape, to

return home to the Great Mountains across the sea. The figure ran and ran; it

would run as far as its legs would take it.

Then there

was pain, a pain so searing and real that even its soul screamed out in agony.

The figure slipped and fell from the roof into the wild black waves below.

He watched

the figure fall. He watched as it plummeted into the violent waves of the Sithisa Campella, the sea of consuming

waters, without thinking he dived into the water. It was cold and dense but, he

still dived deeper and deeper into the sea. When he finally reached the figure

the air was stretching his lungs further and further apart. He kicked as hard

as he possibly could and when he broke the surface of the waves with the figure

in his arms a blanket of relief swept over him. He began to swim to a nearby

latter he swung the figure over his shoulders and began to climb the latter. He

was small for his age and he struggled as he climbed the latter. Then a hand

appeared before his face, he gladly took it. Up on the cobblestone street now he

looked up to find his master Senore Myk’s face staring back at him.

“What do

you have here, Hollin?”