Hi! I posted my first story a while back, the first chapter of Luminous. This is a new, edited bit of the first, second, third, and fourth chapter. It's less rambling, more dark, and get's right to the point instead of dumping a bunch of unwanted exposition on you guys. I also made the main character's personality more defined and even changed her appearance and backstory a bit. Once again, I probably won't be posting anything more than these first few chapters. But anyways.. go ahead and tear this apart! :D
(Also, feel free to make predictions on what will happen)
Chapter One
Smile
Blood dribbled from my lower lip. I
gently traced the new bruise on my cheek.
And I forced
myself to smile.
I lay on my bed,
spread-eagled across the worn quilt and still wearing my workclothes. A
shapeless grey smock and baggy, dark-colored trousers. The attic ceiling
pressed in on me- just low enough so that my fingers could brush against the
cobwebs.
I breathed a long, pent-up sigh and absently
reached up to wipe the blood from my chin. Once again, I felt broken. A heap of
bones, skin, and grimy workclothes, exhausted and beaten down. Too tired for
anger at the unfairness of it all, or sadness even. Life is life, huh?
With a grumble,
I slowly, painfully sat up and ruffled my hands through my short-cropped hair.
I blinked at my room, taking in the familiar things. A rough, wooden door in
one corner. A bed, a chest, a three-legged stool. Hm. Looks the same as it did when I turned up here eight years ago.
Maybe I should redecorate.
I smiled again,
deciding I didn’t want to feel the sting of my split-lip or the ache of the
bruises. Bam- just like that, I can block
it out.
Maybe if I
convinced myself well enough, the pain would actually go away. Maybe if I
smiled.. maybe then, I would be given a real reason to smile. Worth a try, right?
…Fray. I really am insane. But I guess it’s
better this way.
A fist hammered
on my door.
I jumped,
quickly getting out of bed. I shuffled across the floor in the dim light from
the rafters and pulled the door open.
“Get out, Ryn.
I can’t fit into your little rat’s nest,” the voice rumbled like thunder before
a storm.
I scrambled to
obey, climbing through the little door and blinking my eyes at the sudden
torchlight. I got to my feet, shoving down my growing fear and hoping my hands
weren’t trembling.
I stared at his chin
instead of his eyes. When you arrived, the first thing you learned was that the
quickest way to provoke Boss was to look him straight in the eyes.
The burly smith
shook his head disdainfully.
“Clean yourself
up and get back to work. It’s your fault that you were punished- and I expect that
order to be done before tomorrow.”
I nodded
stiffly, feeling a sharp jab of anger. I didn’t let it show. If Boss detected
the slightest spark of rebellion he would pound it back down, literally.
“Speak to me,
little girl. Say yes sir, Thord.”
“Yes sir, Thord.”
“Good girl- and
wipe that blood off your chin.”
His mouth
twisted with cruel amusement and he turned to go. My eyes bored into his back
as he pounded down the stairs. My hands shook, clenched into fists at my sides.
My mouth was bursting with the words I wanted to scream.
But I didn’t
scream. I cleaned myself up. And I got back to work.
-
The Forge was
beginning to empty at that late hour, but a few furnaces still fumed with their
dim red glow- casting a parade of shadows dancing along the metal racks. The
apprentices and workers were all familiar faces. I had been there longer than many
of them and knew almost everyone by name.
I could already
feel the sweat dripping down my neck as I walked across the smoky room towards
the small workshop in the back of the building. In there was my own furnace- which
was cluttered with unfinished work. Most of the workers were used to me now,
but a few of the apprentices glanced at me with bemused grins as I passed them.
I knew they called me “Thord’s Little Rat” behind my back. I guess they’re confused at why Boss would let a girl work as a smith.
Yeah, well, I didn’t get it either.
But I did know one thing. I was good at
what I did. Better, even, then the brawny senior smiths who had been at the
trade their whole lives. They couldn’t stand that a scrawny little girl did their job better than they did.
I slipped into the privacy of my workshop and sat down at the bench.
I still had so
much to do on this sword. Usually this would take at least a day- and Boss
wanted it finished before tomorrow. My
stomach twisted into knots and I closed my eyes. I can’t do this. A few hours aren’t enough to finish! But Boss… he’ll
be furious if I don’t. I opened my eyes again and took a deep breath,
already reaching for my tools. Quit
panicking and get to work- this sword isn’t going to shape itself. I had
done it hundreds of times. I could do it again…
I went over the
steps in my head. First, the sword- rather,
the lumpy metal stick- would need to be heated in the furnace until the
iron was red-hot and soft enough to be shaped with a hammer. Then came the hard
part. Every warp, dent, or bump would need to be pounded into shape. After all that, the finished sword will be
quenched in oil and sharpened with the grindstone-
“Watcha doin’?”
I spun around, a
hammer gripped in my right hand.
“Hey! Just me! Fray- you’re jumpy, aren’t you?”
Tam, one of the
new apprentices, eyed me with sly, grey eyes as he slipped through the open
doorway. He was only a year or two older than me, but more than a foot taller
and stocky for his age. I rolled my eyes and turned to get back to work. They’re not supposed to come in here… I
guess Thord’s busy or something. “What are you doing? And you shouldn’t swear.”
He gave me an
odd look, his eyes crinkled with amusement. “You’re living in a forge, ya know that? Another reason why
girls should stay at home and stick to… well whatever girls do.”
I ignored that,
instead changing the subject.
“You didn’t
answer my question.”
“Oh that- I’m on
food break.”
To demonstrate
this, Tam stuffed a piece of cheese into his mouth and started to chew noisily.
I groaned inwardly. I don’t have time for
this. I knew what he wanted- the new guys all turned up at some point to
needle me for my story- an explanation. What they didn’t get, however, was that
I didn’t know much more than they did.
“Why’d your pa
let you come work at the Forge anyways?”
Here we go.. I sighed and turned to look
the apprentice in the eye.
“Go bother
someone else, will you? I don’t have time to chat. I only have a few hours to
finish shaping this sword.”
Tam’s grin only
got wider.
“From the way you
talk to Boss I thought you were timid.”
“Anyone’s timid
around him.”
“Why’d he give you your own workshop?”
I snapped, “Leave
me alone!”
A hand suddenly grabbed my arm in an
iron grip and a voice snarled at Tam, “Get back to work boy.” The apprentice
blanched and immediately ran off to obey.
I turned around-
and looked straight into Thord’s stormy black eyes. When did he come in? Why didn’t I notice? Heart pounding with
terror, my gaze dropped to his chin and I was a weak little rat once again.
“I need this
finished before tomorrow, girl. This order is for the Royal Guard and I need to
make a good impression.”
On that last
word, he squeezed my arm. I gasped in pain, struggling to keep my composure. Usually- Usually if I’m pathetic, timid, afraid
enough, he won’t take notice of me. I can become invisible.
This time I
wasn’t so lucky.
“Now get
started. I’m going to sit right here and watch until that sword is finished.”
He finally let
go of my arm and moved back into the shadow of the workbench to watch me. With
shaking hands, I reached for the hammer and began to work.
It wasn’t so bad
the first hour. I knew what I was doing. All I had to do was keep going… Keep going until the sword is done... Because
Thord was watching from the shadows of the workshop. I felt his eyes on me,
just waiting for an excuse to punish me. I
won’t give him one.
After three
hours, my body was sticky with sweat and my hair hung in limp strands around my
face. My arms burned and my whole body was shuddering with fatigue. I continued
to work, pounding away at the red-hot metal. Suddenly- the hammer slipped.
I cried out,
clutching my hand against my chest. My
first slip-up…
The murmur of
talk outside the workshop quieted for a single, heart-stopping moment. I could
imagine their eyes. Pitying. But they didn’t care enough.
I heard Thord
get up and move forward until he was looming behind me. He pulled me back up to
my feet by my hair and roared, “Keep working!”
-
Far past
midnight, when every worker and apprentice had long since gone to bed, I finished
sharpening the sword. Without waiting for permission, I dragged myself back
upstairs. He didn’t stop me.
I collapsed on
my bed, head swimming with fire, smoke, the screeching whirr of the grindstone,
the ringing sound that the hammer made when it hit metal… and the heavy thud
when it slipped. Every painful hour in front of that furnace was burned into my
mind. That cursed sword, stained with the blood from my hands. Every dent,
every warp, I had hammered into shape.
I told myself to
smile. Smile.. Smile.. Smile Ryn, and
maybe everything will get better.
But I’m
so tired… I’m so tired of trying to be strong..
I cried instead.
Chapter Two
Fortune-teller
“I thought I would find you here.”
I was in a place
of scattered light. Rich gold, deep scarlet, royal blue spirals… A glassy blue
sky was spread out above me and I felt like a bird… I turned around to see her.
She wore boyish
clothing and a sword at her belt for some reason, but it somehow fit her. Long
golden curls pulled back into a tail… Piercing, slanted yellow eyes. A slender-
yet strong- hand on my shoulder. Something was swinging from her neck.
Something cold and made of silvery metal.
-
I blinked my
eyes open to the shadowy attic ceiling, and to the pain of my bruised hands and
aching arms. I sighed softly, closing my eyes again and wishing I were back in
that dream instead of reality. Reality
isn’t pretty. But I was already starting to forget the woman’s face.. I
reached inside my shirt and fingered the silver necklace at my throat,
wondering if it had been a memory or a dream. Maybe she was my mother once… Not that it matters now.
Severed souls- Can’t tell if it’s night or
day in this room. I reminded myself not to curse, even if it was only in my
thoughts. Boss cursed like a Sedaran mercenary and I wasn’t about to follow in
his footsteps.
I got up with a pained groan- seemed
like I got up like that more often than not, lately- and slipped out of my
workclothes. For a minute, I stared at my hands. They were mottled with dark,
splotchy bruises. And almost every finger was blistered.
The memories of
last night flashed through my mind. The hammer clanging against metal… a chaotic
mantra that pounded against my skull… The boiling heat of the furnace.. Sweat
dripping into my eyes..
Despair started
to take over. Boss is going to keep me
here forever… I’ll never leave.. It’ll go on forever.. Like a nightmare that
I’ll never wake up from. I breathed deep, and exhaled- slowly regaining my
cool.
Someday I’m gonna get out of this place.
Carelessly tossing
the grimy workclothes over my shoulder, I began to rummage through my chest for
something clean. I eventually put on a faded yellow blouse and a skirt of some
muddled color- maybe it had been red once. Pulling out a cracked mirror, I
stared at myself for a few moments- just barely able to make out my features in
the dim light of the half-open door.
Bloodshot green-blue
eyes. An angular face and pale, hollow cheeks- and the bruises only made them
look paler. Short, messy black hair… Looks
like a corpse. I made a face at my reflection, feeling an odd ache in my
chest.. Shaking my head in disgust, I realized that I was feeling sorry for
myself. No point feeling down if you know
nothing’s gonna change, Ryn.
I crept down the
steps into the workroom, silent as a cat. The usual cacophony of a whirring
grindstone, the workers’ hoarse bellows, and ringing hammers greeted me. I kept
to the sides of the room with my eyes down as I walked towards the scullery.
Boss always took a while to cool off- and I wasn’t about to draw attention to
myself. Even if I hadn’t done anything he would deem worthy of a beating, Boss had
a habit of taking it out on me when
jobs went wrong.
I finally made
it to the scullery, where fresh bread was laid out for the Forge smiths. I took
two of the loaves and sat against the wall to eat. As I shredded the soft brown
bread, I listened to the sounds of the Forge and let my thoughts wander.
Someday, when I get out of this place, I’ll
travel to Kyria... Maybe Thelendar.. Or the capital Idenrae. Where food can be
conjured by Luminous at the wave of a hand and no one goes hungry… Where the
great Acarian palaces tower higher than any of the Crown’s mountains.. I snorted. And pigs
will fly.
A voice jolted me out of my daydreaming.
“Ryn?”
I glanced up at
the apprentice. He was new, I could tell. Soft features and pudgy pink hands
that hadn’t seen a day of work... The
Forge will quickly get rid of that.
“Yeah?”
“Thord says you’re
to deliver a message for him, to the buyer of those swords- and after that you
can take the day off.” He added after a moment, “For your hands.”
The boy’s eyes
flicked to my bruised and blistered fingers, full of undisguised pity. I shoved
my hands into my skirt pockets.
“Okay then.
Where’s this message going?”
-
A few minutes
later, I was out the door and on the streets of Davet, sighing with relief. I
was breathing in the crisp morning air, instead of the bitter odor of smoke and
metal dust. I stood for a moment, a gentle breeze ruffling my skirt, to take in
the view.
Davet was a
large city compared to most, its river making it a center of trade. The
bustling city sprawled chaotically across the foot of the Crown- a crescent-shaped
range of jagged mountains that stretched for miles in either direction. On one
side, there was the river, swarming with barges and ships loaded with goods. On
the other were the quiet woods and grassy slopes that got gradually steeper and
steeper as you moved up the side of the mountain.
Home- indifferent, chaotic, crowded, and
dirty… but home nonetheless.
I started walking.
After this I’ll get the day off.. An entire
day. I inhaled the mingled aromas of spices, fresh bread, leather, and sawdust-
and the less-than-pleasant smell of a tannery. The faded multicolored
buildings… Mossy cobbles slick with morning dew.. Distant, unfamiliar voices
calling out among the crowd.. I was almost breathing it all in.
Suddenly I
stopped in my tracks.
A beggar lay
slumped against a building- like refuse that someone had kicked to the side of
the road. Her hair was matted, her ragged clothes torn and clotted with dirt
and grime. Her hands were outstretched to passerby, who didn’t spare her a
glance.
I realized I was
biting my lip. My hands were clenched at my sides. A memory... of some other
crowded street. Another girl in rags with outstretched hands and pleading eyes…
I shook it off and forced myself to keep moving.
I could almost
feel the beggar’s eyes boring into my back as I walked away- even though I knew
that the street was too far behind me for it to be possible.
I struggled to
shake off the sudden onslaught of emotions… Dread. Terror. Sorrow. Forget about it. Forget. Just forget. But…
what am I trying to forget?
I realized with
a jolt that I was standing in front of the place- known as The Golden Bird and one
of Davet’s better taverns. Good. He
should be inside. I tried to clear away the emotions and the disturbing
memory, focusing instead on delivering Boss’ message and getting the day off. Yeah-
that definitely helped my mood. Think
about that, Ryn.
The doors of the
tavern were thrown wide open to customers and a strain of violin drifted across
the street. The sounds of wild laughter and soft voices alike poured from the
open doors. The cozy normalcy of the tavern was comforting, and those troubling
memories slipped away once again… Some quiet part of me whispered soothingly, Why would you want to remember anyways, Ryn?
Remembering hurts. It only brings pain…
The keeper of the tavern took Boss’
message with the promise that he would get it to the right person- and then I
was free. No pounding away at red-hot metal. No sitting in the boiling heat of
a furnace. No cowering under Boss’ rage. I was free.
For six hours, that is.
I left the tavern, stuck my hands in my
skirt pockets, and idly drifted past the crowded shops of Davet. I didn’t have
any money to spend, of course, but I was in no hurry to get back. And it was
interesting to see what new shops had opened since the last time I had left the
Forge…
That was one thing about Davet; a constant
flow of people was always moving in and out. Traders and travelers came on the river
and left on it. New stalls would spring up overnight. Like mushrooms. And the next day the stall could have been taken
down. It was absolute chaos. The stands
in their garish, eye-catching colors strung with jewelry, or spices, or metal
pots that clattered together whenever the wind started up… Hawkers on every
corner yelling their heads off in some attempt at getting attention from
passerby.
“My lady-” a man’s
reedy voice pleaded.
“Silence, Lanis.”
A woman’s high, arrogant voice.
“That woman is a
fraud. She sells you pretty lies, but only that!”
“Shut your
mouth, you old fool. I will not
repeat myself.”
I finally saw them. A young woman wearing a stiff
yellow dress, a bobbing hairdo of brown ringlets, and enough makeup to repaint
the Forge. I assumed that her servant was the older man in the silly violet
suit- silly meaning that it fit the aristocracy’s current fashions, of course.
He was close behind her and wringing his hands in agitation.
Well, nobles are always amusing to watch...
I stood out of the bustle of the road to keep an eye on the ridiculous pair in
their glaring violet and yellow outfits. They stopped at the shop directly
across from me- a building made of crumbling bricks riddled with cracks and mottled
with faded yellow paint.
I crossed the
street just as they entered the door. This
place is definitely not a jewelry shop.
A string of crooked letters was carved
into a panel mounted above the doorway. Well
that’s not very helpful… I can’t read, after all.
The front door
was wide open to welcome in all its nonexistent customers, so I began to step
through the doorway- and stopped as I heard voices.
A woman’s voice
said unenthusiastically, “Dear girl, how nice to see you again…”
The noble
replied, “Good morning. I came to-“
“Forgive me, I’m
afraid you’ll have to come later. I already have a customer waiting on me.”
“You don’t have
another customer-“
“Elita, I am
certain that another reading won’t yield any different results from the last three.”
After a moment,
the noble said stiffly, “I’ll be back tomorrow then.”
I swiftly moved
out of the way as the sour-faced noblewoman rushed out of the door in a flurry
of silk, followed closely by her servant.
I wonder what that was all about. I
stepped into the shop. Despite the less-than-welcoming exterior, the inside was
airy and lit by three glass windows. The small white room, probably a foyer, was
decorated with three faded rose-red poufs and a threadbare sofa.
The sound of approaching
footsteps echoed from another room. Whoops.
I quickly dug around in my skirt pockets for a leftover crescent or
something- so I could have an excuse for being there.
“Dearie, I said I wasn’t going to-“ a
woman said agitatedly as she walked through the room’s other doorway.
“Oh.”
The woman
stopped to look at me and immediately dropped the sickly-sweet tone she had
been using. “What do you want?”
She was almost a
foot shorter than me- but stood, hands on her hips, with a confident attitude
that belied her stature. She had an oddly stocky build for a woman, but was far
from ugly- with a strong jaw, high cheek bones, slanted, long-lashed brown
eyes, and sleek dark hair that fell past her waist.
She wore a gauzy
violet shawl, a midnight blue gown, and the most jewelry I had ever seen in my
sixteen years of life.
“Erm. I’ve never
been in this shop and I was just curious-“
“I see.”
I struggled not
to look as uneasy as I felt. How does she
fit so much condescension into two simple words? I mustered up the courage
to speak.
“What sort of
shop is this?”
The woman’s
expression didn’t change. “I don’t serve just anyone who wanders into my shop
without so much as a copper crescent.”
I quickly held
up the silver coin I had just dug out of my pocket.
The woman swiftly
adopted a pleasant smile when she realized I was a potential customer. Before I
could react, she had snatched the silver crescent from my fingers and waved a
hand for me to follow her.
“This is a
fortune-telling shop, dearie. And you can call me Santha.”
I stopped in my
tracks. “A fortune-telling shop?
You’re joking.”
Santha waited in
the doorway to the next room and answered sunnily, “No joke, dearie.”
“Stop calling me
that! My name is Ryn,” I snapped. “And give me back my money. I never said I wanted
you to read my palms- or whatever it is you do to trick idiots out of their
coins.”
The woman regarded
me shrewdly. “Are you sure you don’t want to hear your fortune, Ryn?”
I grabbed the
crescent from her open palm and turned to go.
“If I were you,
I’d stay. Don’t you want to know if you’re fated to live out the rest of your years
as that smith’s slave?”
I froze, my eyes
still fixed on the open door. “How do you know about that?”
“I already told
you, love. I’m a fortune-teller.”
“Magic doesn’t
exist.”
“No, it’s
doesn’t. But Luminous do.”
Chapter Three
Luminous
I waited
nervously on one of the poufs, looking around at my shadowy surroundings. Silky
violet drapes hung all over the walls and the numerous bookshelves were loaded
with stacks upon stacks of musty tomes. On one shelf was what looked like a
human skull- and a misty-grey orb sat in the center of the desk.
I wonder what’s real and what’s for show…
Still, Santha does have power. I know that much. She said she was Luminous.
But what did I know about Luminous? People
who could fly, read minds, create gold from stone, and teleport across hundreds
of miles… That’s what the stories say, at
any rate.
“Sorry to keep you waiting, dear. Let’s
begin.”
Santha floated
through the door in a whirl of midnight-blue silk and sat elegantly on the
moth-eaten armchair across from me.
I shifted in my
seat, my hands stuffed into the pockets of my skirt so the fortune-teller
wouldn’t see them trembling. If this
actually works, do I want to do it?
Santha closed her eyes, looking regal, solemn-
and very real.
What if she tells me I’m going to be stuck slaving
away for Boss the next thirty years? Ignorant I at least have hope that things
will change. Knowing the future could break me.
A voice whispered a vicious reminder. But you can’t break something that’s already
broken, can you?
Santha’s eyes fluttered open.
And they began
to glow.
The deep brown
color of the fortune-teller’s irises brightened to amber- then to the blaze of
molten gold, illuminating her elegant features and the violet shawl wrapped
around her shoulders. Her eyes were glazed and empty as they stared straight
ahead.
This is real. This is why they’re called
Luminous.
I stared in disbelief, frozen to my seat
in the eerie silence… and felt something on the edge of my mind. A nudging
thought... Go away. Go away. Like an
itch I couldn’t reach. The feeling faded- then came back stronger than before.
Like a creature scratching at the door… trying to get in… Go away. The feeling eventually dulled until I could hardly feel
it. What was that?
Santha’s
brow was shiny with sweat. I couldn’t make out the words she was muttering
under her breath… Her blank, open eyes narrowed with concentration as they
stared ahead.
The scratching,
howling, pounding noise at the edge of my thoughts returned. And left almost as
soon as it had come.
I waited… Then it
was finally over. Santha’s eyes darkened to their original color, her face cast
into shadow once more. The fortune-teller slumped in the armchair, looking very
tired without the elegant poise she had held herself with beforehand.
For a moment, there
was a tense silence.
Then, bursting
with nervous curiosity, I spoke up.
“What did you
see?”
Santha slowly
looked up, her eyes wide and her hands shaking slightly as they gripped the
armrests of her chair.
“They sent you..
They sent you early..” she whispered. There was no trace of the controlled- almost
regal-looking- woman that had been sitting there moments before.
I stared,
feeling increasingly unsettled.
“What are you
talking-“
The
fortune-teller jumped to her feet and hissed, “Vallas. They sent you to do this,
didn’t they? I told them.. I told them they could trust me…”
I got up in
alarm and backed towards the door.
“I don’t know
what you’re talking about.”
Santha’s eyes
bored suspiciously into my own. She slowly sat back down on the armchair, and I
perched on the pouf again, heart pounding. She’s
crazy. Who does she think I am?
“I get it. He
sent you, one of his younger pawns. A powerful Luminous with great potential,
to scare me… Well. What does he want?”
“Luminous?”
“Of course... You
know what you are, don’t you?” Santha frowned. Then her anxious expression
cleared away in an instant. “Ahhh… I see now. You know nothing.”
-
I took the mug
from her with shaking hands and collapsed into the armchair she had pulled up
for me. I felt… numb. She’s lying. She has
to be. I can’t be Luminous. How many times have I been beaten? Crying, bruised,
and broken? If I was Luminous I’d have done something about my messed-up life
by now. And what was all that about a person named Vallas??
Santha sat down in the other armchair,
elegant once again, and sipped at her drink. She patiently sat there and
watched as I stared into the bottom of my mug. I finally spoke.
“What is this?”
The fortune-teller
answered promptly, “Tea. Drink it- and help yourself to the biscuits on the
desk. You haven’t eaten since this morning.”
I got up and
headed for the tin on the desk, grumbling in response, “How did you know that?”
“I saw it in
your head. One of the only things I could see besides that little bit about
your recent history at the smithy…” Santha watched closely for a reaction as
she continued, “You really don’t know anything?”
“I don’t know anything. Who’s Vallas? Aren’t you just
a fortune-teller?? Answer me!” The words came out in a frustrated rush.
Santha chuckled,
completely relaxed. “I can answer one of those questions. I can’t actually see
the future- that’s impossible, of course. I can, however, look at memories and
surface-thoughts. I tell the customer what they want to hear and make it believable. They love that.” She gave me a sour look and added, “But I couldn’t see too much
in your head... You blocked me out.”
I ignored that
last remark and said, “But how are you sure
I’m Luminous?”
“It’s obvious,
dearie. At first I could only see a few scattered memories, but once I dug a
little deeper later on… so much power,” She eyed me, looking impressed, though I had no
idea why.
For a moment
there was silence. I said quietly,
“Santha. I’m an
orphan. I was pathetic. An eight-year old dying on the streets and all I could
remember was a name. I was forced to start work as a smith two years later by
the man who took me in, Thord. He’s never seen me as anything but a thing that he can use. I’m a slave. Less
than nothing.”
It came out as a
cracked whisper-
“How am I Luminous?”
Santha took a
sip of tea, holding the mug to her mouth for a long moment. Then she lowered it
with a sigh.
“You say you’re
a smith? A skinny little thing like you?”
I said angrily, “Don’t
change the subject-“
“Answer me.”
I reluctantly
muttered,” I’m the best smith at the Forge.”
Santha shook her
head with an annoyed sigh.
“You want proof?
I’ll prove it to you. Ask yourself how you, a scrawny teenage girl, can do the
work better than those tough senior smiths. Ask yourself why your boss took in
a homeless child when he’s obviously selfish and cares only about the weight of
his wallet.”
She finished
grimly, “I understand now… That smith has been using you in more ways than you
know.”
I opened my
mouth to ask how she would know. But
before I could say a word, Santha stood up. There was a shadow of concern on
her face.
“I forgot that I
have visitors coming soon.. You’ll need to leave now, dearie.”
“Wait-“
“Don’t worry-
I’m sure we’ll meet again. And when we do I’m sure you’ll have a thousand
questions to ask me- most of which I’ll have answers to. But that will have to
wait. Goodbye.”
I was taken out
of the study, guided through the foyer- and the door was slammed shut behind me.
Chapter Four
Cursed
I walked in the
rain.
It was a misty,
sticky sort of rain. Not heavy enough to force everyone inside, to choke
gutters with swirling puddles of trash, or to leave you soaking… It was simply
enough to cast everything into a dull greyish hue. Just enough to be annoying.
I ducked under the
overhang of a street vendor’s now-empty fruit stand and stood there for a
moment. Well.. What now, Ryn? Even if
Santha was telling the truth.. what’s changed? I stared out at the street.
Grey sky. Grey buildings. Grey people… shuffling along the street and never
looking at me for more than a moment.
Gonna shoot fireballs at Boss until he
treats you better?
You’re Luminous? So what. You know there’s
no way out, even with this. It’ll only become another way for Boss to use you. Those
softly repeated whispers threatened to drag me down.
I screwed my eyes shut and balled my
hands into fists, defiant. Stop thinking
about all of that.. Don’t you dare pity yourself. There’s always a way out. Smile, huh?
“HEY!
You! Get away from there!”
I whirled around
to see a man, probably the owner of the stand, shouting from the other end of
the street as he ran over.
“If you touched
anything... filthy brat..”
“I was just-“
“Get!”
I finally moved away from the stand and
started heading for the Forge. Then- when the stand was a few hundred yards
behind me- I stopped and turned around.
“No one’s gonna
steal rotten fruit!” I shouted back at the vendor. I broke into a run before he
could retaliate.
-
I pushed open
the heavy door, rainwater dripping from the ends of my hair, and was bathed in
a hot, smoky haze. For once it was a slight relief to enter the Forge.
The workroom was
silent and, as usual, lit by a few smoldering furnaces, but the clamor of
raucous laughter and chatter drifted from the scullery at the end of the room. The smiths must be on dinner break already.
I headed to the
scullery. I’ll just grab my share and go
upstairs... I never ate with the others. They didn’t like to be reminded of
my existence.
The stools and
tables of the scullery were strewn with tired, ash-stained bodies. They
sprawled over the rickety wooden furniture with abandon and wolfed down a
dinner of bread and potato soup. Delicate table manners existed somewhere I was
sure… Just not at the Forge.
I finally managed
to sneak around the edge of the room and seize a bowl of soup- and then I was
out.
Later, I lay on
my bed in the darkness- idly chewing on a tough scrap of potato and inspecting
my bruised hands in a shaft of light from the rafters. Don’t know how I’m going to get any work done with these.
-
Crisp, clear blue sky- stretching out above
me. Colors shattered upon the grass and cobbles…
“No, sari. You hold it like this-“ She took my hand and
moved it up the sword handle.
With laughter
dancing in her yellow eyes, she said in a voice brighter than the sun itself,
“Go ahead. Give it a swing.”
“But why is this
important? I want to go play… And this is boy stuff.” I had always looked up to
her- even adored her, but I didn’t want to be reminded of swords. Of fighting-
or of death. I wanted to keep pretending. Like everyone else did.
“Maybe not today,
but someday it will be very important. It may save your life.”
“But I have you to protect me.”
She met my eyes,
suddenly solemn. “You will not always.”
-
I opened my
eyes. Cobwebs. Darkness. Pain. More
memories, huh?
Dressed in my
workclothes once again, I made my way down the stairs to the scullery for
breakfast- or whatever it was they kept insisting was edible.
I wonder who she was. What did she call me?
Sari? I remember… It means “child” in the Thelendarian language.. I hesitated,
slightly unsettled. Why do I know that?
I grabbed a bowl of root-mush from a
table. Leaning against the wall, I didn’t give any thought to the food I was
eating or the voices outside the scullery. Just
going through the motions. Once again… I took those few minutes of freedom
to think about Santha and what she had told me.
I dropped the spoon back into my bowl of
root-mush.
She said I was Luminous. If that was true..
I could be free. I’ll make Santha teach me how to be Luminous. I’ll finally
escape. And maybe I could find that woman again.. that woman who was my mother.
Mother.
I did something dangerous. I began to
hope.
But remember Boss…
-
“You- girl!” a rough voice cut through my thoughts.
I jumped to my feet, dropping the bowl
with a clatter and turning to see none other than him. Fray.. He’s real angry
this time. I lowered my gaze and promptly took on a shy, nervous demeanor.
I didn’t have to fake the shaking hands.
“Get over here,” Boss growled. He got up
to his feet- shoving the chair to the side with a clatter, and roughly grabbed
my arm. I struggled against the urge to resist- letting him drag me out to the
workroom, fear drowning out my anger.
He hauled me
over to my workshop, slammed the door shut with a foreboding thud, and turned on
me with a snarl. I backed against the metal rack, my head bowed low and my
hands clutched to my chest- the picture of meek, helpless, fear…
“Frayed brat. Where were you yesterday?” he
growled, hands balled into fists.
I mumbled,
disguising the rising hate and fury inside me, “Y-you told me… I delivered the
message so I could get the rest of the day off…”
“I never said
that, you little-“ Boss finally
came for me, swinging at my head with a fist like a sledgehammer.
I curled up
against the rack, arms over my head, whimpering and backed into a corner like
the rat I was. It’ll be over soon. And
remember? No pain… You don’t have to feel it… It’ll be over soon.
“-lying..” He roared.
I didn’t lie. I get it now. I heard them
talking. He lost a customer yesterday…
“-wretch..”
And he’s taking it out on me.
The next blow left me sprawled across
the grimy stone tiles, blood streaming down my chin.
I didn’t do anything to deserve this…
Boss kicked aside the workbench and
loomed over me.
I waited
patiently. Then… at the last moment, rolled out of the way and jumped to my
feet. I looked straight at Boss and realized, Why am I still here?
-
The smith’s eyes
widened in surprise, and his raised fist wavered. Then he growled angrily and
charged at me. I ducked and snatched a hammer from a rack, shaking with fury..
loathing towards this man. My jailor. He’s
wasted eight years of my life. Chained here, slaving away for him… And what
have I gotten in return? Scars. Bruises.
Thord slapped
the hammer out of my grip and kicked me to the ground. I glared at him,
refusing to feel fear. I hissed, my voice rising with each word, “I won’t.. I won’t be your slave any longer.”
“You’re
pathetic. You think this is bad? You prefer the streets where I found you?”
Thord said, shaking his head in disgust. “You wanna dig through the frayed trash heaps for your dinner?”
“I found out-
I’m Luminous, Thord. I’m leaving and you can’t stop that,” I coughed, wiping
the blood of my chin. I no longer felt afraid of him. He was just a smith in a
little Acarian city that didn’t matter. Time
to do something. I’m sick of this. I don’t know what I was waiting for.. but
I’ve waited long enough.
Thord laughed.
I looked up,
stunned. The man stood there.. and laughed.
“You think I
didn’t know that? That you were Luminous?”
“You…”
“You think I’d take in a scrawny orphan girl
off the streets to work for me when I have more apprentices than I need? Yeah,
I knew what you were when I took you in. There were stories about the odd
little urchin… so I went and found you.”
He continued
carelessly as he kicked aside the fallen hammer, “The powers. I don’t understand
them well, but I knew that using them you could make a sword bend just right.
Sharper and more durable than any sword I could make. You idiot. You never knew
what you were doing.. Even when I gave
you your own workshop so no one would know what you were… You think you’d have the strength to do what my
senior smiths struggle with? It’s all those powers you were born with.”
He finished, now
leering with amusement. “You built up my reputation.. Made the Forge so
well-known even the Royal Guards sent all the way from Idenrae to buy from me.”
I stared in
shock, suddenly understanding everything.
“Let me teach
you a lesson, girl. You’re never
leaving.”
He turned the
rack and chose a heavy iron-headed mallet.
I tasted the
sour tang of blood in my mouth, my heart racing. Do something. Do something! The voice screamed in my head, more
distant every moment. But I was frozen. Ryn..
You need something to fight back with. Remember the sword? That cursed
sword, stained with my own blood… how much I had hated it.
Suddenly my
thoughts flashed back to that night. Thord had been watching, waiting for me to
mess up. Hours in the boiling heat, pounding away at red-hot metal… I could
remember every dent, every imperfection in that sword that I shaped. I had
listened to the screeching whir of the grindstone until my head reverberated
with the ringing… and that sword had become sharp enough to slice a hair.
Reach for it. It’s there… You know it better
than you know yourself.
I reached out, wondering if I was
delirious from the pain… and the sword, a common steel sword with the faintest
tint of blood-red, materialized in my hand.
Thord finally
turned around- to see me, holding up the sword in bloody hands.
“Where did you
get that?” For the first time, he sounded afraid. No, terrified. It’s the sword…
The sword cast a bloody red light around
it. I could feel it in my hands… it almost seemed alive. It echoed with an aura of pure despair. Hate. Terror. Pain.
I recoiled from
the thing, holding it out from me. Thord backed farther away, eyes wide. He
felt it too.
“Your eyes..” the
smith whispered.
I spoke, grim
and quiet. “I’m leaving. And I’m never coming back to this cursed place.”
Points: 742
Reviews: 8
Donate