Chapter 1
The yearly storms began to roll in from the north casting dark shadows across the forests and the plains. But something was more ominous about these clouds; not as carefully placed, not as beautiful and majestic. Instead, they took on the appearance of chaos and death, building to new heights as though there were no limits. lightning struck where it pleased, and the rain, the rain hovered and waited aloft for its opportunity to saturate the dry soil below. I sat on my favorite tree stump, watching in awe the earth’s elements in all their glory.
“Mortelle!” My father called to me, a voice I could always recognize. He was a tall, built man with choppy short hair. His hands and clothes stained with dirt, his skin rough and his features showed that of a hard worker: tired but functioning. Like mine, his eyes a light blue but hair a dark brown.
I hopped off my stump, fixed my shirt and brushed off my skirt and walked to the sound of his voice. His workroom was humid and hot from the fire that shaped the many tools our village used to work the soil. A bench in the corner was still cluttered with scraps of metal and parts he had collected for forging. I looked around until I saw him standing at a workbench holding a hammer and blade. When I met his eyes he smiled with his always-contagious smile.
“Would you mind getting some firewood? We're almost out.”
“I don’t mind,” I chirped, skipping towards the familiar forests.
“Be back before the dark envelopes you!” I heard him call out to me. But I was not worried.
The forests brought ease acting as my own personal sanctuary. Ever since I could remember I had roamed the many acres of mysterious lands and always found something new. I felt as if I knew its secrets and memories, its weaknesses and strengths. I was one with the forest and so the night barred no threat to me in here. Yet, I would keep my fathers' promise.
I wandered deep in the forest to a secret river that was a lifeline for animals. I played with a couple of rabbits, climbed a few trees to see the birds before I gathered a couple of logs and twigs - as much as I could possibly carry - and headed home before it became too dark. It began to sprinkle, which was nice in the heated day, but the clouds began to block out the last of the remaining sun. The sky was dim when home came into sight and I saw my brother, Dorian, hunched over out of breath but speaking frantically to father. I began to walk toward them wondering why he was home so early but it must have been important because he was becoming flustered the closer I stepped to them.
Dorian looked much like father just in looks. Except for his eyes – like mothers, a pale green.
“She is all but ten, father! We need to leave now!” Dorian exclaimed. I stopped in my tracks. What could he possibly mean? Why did we need to leave? Was the storm worse than I thought?
“Watch your tongue,” father sneered, but the look Dorian gave me when he finally noticed alerted father. He turned to me, eyes becoming sullen as he stared at my anxious expression, when he sighed he said in the softest voice possible, “Mortelle, put the logs inside and grab your things. Pack light, you might not be back for a while.”
“Where are we going?” I asked.
Father pushed me towards the house.
I tried to listen more as I casually strolled to the house but they spoke in whispers now. I tried to read Dorian’s lips but he spoke too quickly and father was faced away from me. I stopped in the steps to the door, just watching them, trying to guess what they could possibly be saying. Every now and then father would throw his hands up in exasperation or point at Dorian in anger, like father like son; Dorian would do the same thing. Dorian noticed me again but this time he shouted, “Now, Mortelle!” and I quickly walked in before father could turn around.
Mother was a small petite woman. Her dark black hair piled on top of her head and a casual dress still looking elegant. She stood at the fireplace, oblivious to the sudden tension outside, and stirred our roast. She turned to the sound of the door closing.
“Oh, good! We needed more wood. Just pile them down here, darling.”
I did as she commanded. I was about to walk to my room but maybe mother would be more gracious and tell me exactly why we were leaving and why there was tension all around. “Mother, where are we going?”
“What do you mean?”
“Dorian and father are speaking of leaving for a while.”
“Your brother is home?” She rushed to the hole in the wall and pulled back the fabric. She tried to act nonchalant but you could hear the strain in her voice. “What did your father say?”
“He said to get my belongings but to pack light. He said we might not be back for a while.”
“Then you should do as your father says, yes? I will speak with him.” She kissed my forehead, hugged me tight and pushed me towards the room.
I walked a few steps before turning around and asking, “But for what, exactly?”
“No more questions, Mortelle.” Mother said, opening the door and walking outside towards the boys.
I went to my room and grabbed a sling over bag made of deer hide. It was big enough to carry a couple days’ clothes and basic items but small enough that it would be easy to travel long distances without tiring easily. I packed a few warm clothes, a pocket knife father made for me, an extra pair of shoes, and the family book. The book listed what herbs and fruits are edible and how to create tools and traps. A travel book my family never left without. I looked around for more items to take when brother burst into the room.
“We have to go,”
“I’m not ready!”
“We haven't time.” He walked over to my bedside desk and grabbed my necklace, the one father and mother made me when I was born; the family crest, and slid it over my head. “Hold this.” He handed me his bow. I watched as he moved my bed across the room revealing a secret door underground. How had I not noticed this before? He opened the latch and reached for my hand.
“What about mother and father?”
“They will join us later.” He was always a terrible liar, especially in dire situations.
“I don’t believe you.” I turned to go to them but Dorian reached forward and wrapped his arms around me hauling me into the dark underground abyss. “Hey, let go! I want father!”
“Stop shouting!” he hissed.
He released me, setting me down roughly. I stumbled and fell back; it was too dark to do more than just sit there waiting. Dorian quietly closed the trap door, locked it and played with a few items until, finally, he lit a fire and grabbed a torch. He looked down at me and sighed. His face had become just as sullen as fathers. Dorian grabbed my hand and helped me up.
“Follow me and move fast.”
He guided me down the winding tunnel, towing me behind him. It was narrow but tall enough to stand in. We moved slowly trying not to make noise, not even daring to whisper. The farther we went the more narrow it became until we reached a three way passage. I was a bit confused but Dorian seemed to know which way to go.
It was faint but her words were clear. I heard mother shout, “Absolon!” she called to him over and over again, sobbing, voice raspy, pleading, “no, don’t, please, don’t.” She screamed, “No!” and then a thud, all was quiet.
“Mother!”
I tried to turn back and follow her voice but Dorian held onto my wrist tightly dragging me with him, repeatedly telling me, “shh, shh, we have to keep going.” while I fought and struggled under his grasp.
We finally reached a dead end; our only way out was up. He put out the torch in the dirt and carefully lifted the door. From the little bit of light outside I could tell the door was camouflaged with weeds and vines. Dorian looked around before fully opening the door. He climbed out effortlessly then hauled me up. I returned his bow to him and he tensed looking for some offset branch or hidden facet in the trees.
“Quietly, make your way east. I’ll be right behind you.”
“Deeper into the forest?”
“Yes, move hastily.”
For a while we jogged, quietly, like animals hunting prey, but Dorian was still warn out from earlier today and we eventually had to walk. At first all seemed well. The night had finally engulfed the forest and the animals chirped and scurried around, almost helping us by concealing the noise of our footsteps. The rain was falling harder now, soaking our hair and our clothes and I was just about to stop and enjoy the raindrops on my face when a flaming arrow landed a few feet from me. I looked to Dorian but he had his back to me launching arrows towards some unseen aggressor. Several more flaming arrows fell from the sky. I screamed and dodged.
“Run!” Dorian shouted.
But I became frozen from fright. I’ve never really been on my own. How would I survive? Who was attacking us? What did they want?
“Run!” he shouted again.
I backed up into a tree watching a rain of fire fall around Dorian and I with him fighting the darkness that lurked in my peaceful forest. When an arrow struck just inches above my head I snapped out of my fear and did as he said - I ran as hard as I could. Dodging branches, pushing through bushes, jumping over rocks and swirling between the trunks of the trees. I heard a crowd shouting, howling into the night chasing us with whatever weapons they possessed. I turned to see if Dorian was following but I shouldn’t have.
His eyes were full of fear as deep as mine. He shouted, again, for me to run but the pain of a flaming arrow sliding effortlessly into his chest quickly cut him off. Everything became deaf to my ears. I do not remember screaming but my vision began to blur from the tears that flowed down my cheeks. Dorian had no voice but his lips worded ‘run’ to me. He stumbled, collapsed to his knees and fell flat on his stomach.
“Dorian!” I shouted.
Nothing seemed real anymore, this couldn’t be happening. My brother’s burning body, the small army of men with torches running towards me and arrows still being launched in my direction. I tried to reach him, reaching out to my only brother, the only family I had left; my finger tips inches away from his body when I felt wind sweep past my face and brush lightly against my hair in one swift movement. The next arrow might not miss and my brother’s efforts would be wasted. I felt like I had no choice. I turned swiftly on my heels, tears dripping down my rain soaked face, and took off into a sprint without pausing for air for my burning lungs or to see if my pursuers were catching up fast. I could not believe all that was happening. A nightmare running on forever and ever without a visible end.
With my vision still blurry I tripped over a root from a tree, rolling down a hill and scraping against twigs and leaves until I broke my fall on a piney bush. I gasped at the sudden force and tried to get back up on my feet. I stumbled and tripped a few more times before I regained my balance and returned to a steady speed down the rest of the hill. I grabbed a few branches and shrubs to keep from falling until I finally made it to the bottom and took off into another sprint. I was quickly wearing out. My breathing turned to panting, my muscles burning, I felt completely exhausted. I could still hear the mob following forcing me to continue moving.
I had to stop. There was no way I could keep running. In my quick glances for a shelter I found a divot in the side of the hill. It wasn’t too noticeable but I hoped that maybe they would think I kept running or something. I sprinted with my last effort into the little hole in the hill and fell to the muddy ground. I attempted to catch enough breath to keep silent before they came. I crawled as far back as I dared go in the crevice and waited.
Although the rain continued to poor I could hear their thunderous footsteps move together and their cries of war getting louder as they drew closer. When they were mere inches from my little crevice I held my breath. I saw a shadowy outline of a man coming closer, the fiery torches casting light against his back making him a black figure. I feared he noticed me but he turned away and joined back into the group. I sighed a little with relief. Waited for what seemed like forever for this group of rebels or whoever they were to disappear and when I no longer heard them I rested my head against a more dry spot on the cool ground and fell into a deep sleep. If they came back and killed me I would hope I would be asleep.
In the morning it was not any better. The day was still terribly stormy and the rain fell like a raging waterfall. Little streams began to flow downhill forming little rivers. I grabbed my belongings and carefully peaked around for any sign of the group. No faces, no bodies where in sight. My little crevice in the hill was though someone quickly dug it out for shelter on a day like this.
My entire body screamed in aches and pains as I tried to wrestle with my fear of moving and my need to survive. I forced my muscles to cooperate and gathered some fruit from nearby bushes and trees. I feared for what I knew what I had to do and could not delay. I hiked back up the hill and tried to retrace my frantic escape. Luckily that chaotic group of men left a noticeable scar across the land with the leaves and twigs smashed from their stomping feet and aggression. I was sure that they had far past me but I looked over my shoulder in precaution.
It took me half a day but I finally reached him. Dorian’s body, once lively and strong, now laid burnt, limp, muddy and soaking wet in the still pouring rain. The arrow still stuck straight out from his back. I could not stop my tears from escaping my eyes and, frankly, I guess I knew it would be impossible to even try. My memories of him flooded my mind, both the good and the bad and I collapsed in the mud next to him. I gripped his jacket and sobbed harder than I ever had before. I screamed and shouted to the wind, to the forest, to the gods for their cruelty and injustice to take from me what little I had. For taking my family, my world as well as the peace and serenity of the forest that once comforted me and turned it into a world of nightmares around every tree and every shrub. My father, my mother and now my brother, too.
“Dorian,” I cried, “Why?” I rocked back and forth on my knees, hands sore from gripping his jacket so tight in my hands. I rested my head against his shoulder until my tears ran dry.
I must have sat there for hours next to his cold, stiff body while the sun slowly made its way towards the horizon. Sometimes I would hope he was just playing, acting as though dead, sometimes I tried to force myself awake but nothing would happen. It was hard to leave but I had to find my crevice again before the sun set entirely. Not wanting to leave his body in the open I dragged Dorian to a small meadow with the last of the sun barely shining down through the leaves and dug a grave for him.
“I bury you here in hope your afterlife might be more peaceful.” I placed a few wildflowers over his grave next to his makeshift tombstone. “I promise,” but that wasn’t good enough, “I swear to you . . . Dorian . . . mother and father . . . that your death will not go unheard.” Slowly, I picked up my bags and walked away with a heavy heart.
I hated that I would never see him smile again, hated that I would never hear his laughter, hated that . . . whatever they are called . . . people, if you could call them that, stole my family from me. My family saved me and I could not even thank them properly.
I groggily walked back to what was now my home as the rain continued to fall. Sometimes the wind picked up whipping my hair in every direction. I didn’t get there until the sun had already fallen over the face of the earth and the temperature began to plummet. I scrounged up a couple of loose vines to conceal the entrance and a few rocks and branches to make arrows for Dorian’s bow. It didn’t provide the same warm home feeling or comfort but it would have to do. I was cautious of fires for a while but the continuous rain helped in concealing the smoke.
I thought about going back to my real home, however, the warning father had given me made me unsure. He said I wouldn’t be back for a while . . . or shouldn’t? I sometimes would gather all my things and begin to head home but something always stopped me and I would return to my little crevice. This continued for three days and four nights.
I felt utterly exhausted. My eyes heavy from crying, my muscles aching from hunting, hiking and traveling. I just lay on my make-shift bed letting time pass by when I felt something lightly shake my shoulder. I rolled over and saw a figure standing over me, too exhausted, I just lay there looking up through half blurred eyes. I felt the ground disappear from underneath me; my head and arms slacked, hanging in the air. Muscled arms wrapped around my shoulders and held up my legs. The world was disorienting upside down with the sun making its way across the sky blinding me, my throat felt dry; I looked up at the man who carried me through the forest.
This man was big, muscled in the extreme. He was bald with deep brown eyes, almost black, and paled skin. However, his hold on me was gentle, unthreatening and attentive.
“We watched your little performance.” He said, when he noticed me staring. His voice was deep. “We didn’t expect your brother to die, that’s when we stepped in. But a quick girl like you could be useful.”
“What?” I didn’t remember them, or anyone helping.
“Boss has taken quite an interest. Haven’t seen him so dedicated for a while now.”
“My bag?”
“I have it slung across my shoulder.”
I fell in and out of sleep while he carried me through the forest. Every time I awoke we would be somewhere completely new. When I finally was able to stay awake we reached a perimeter of a camp sight filled with weapons and bandaged soldiers. Some of the men joked and socialized, others practiced with the many tools, and the majority slept. The man that carried me was obviously well known among the crowd. I closed my eyes in pretense of sleep listening to the easy chatter of the men. “She your daughter?” “We’re not keeping her, are we?” “Didn’t know you like them so young.” I heard as we left behind the crowd. When we passed the commoner section I opened my eyes. We walked past more eloquent tents made of the finest cloth that I recognized from all the city soldiers that came to my father for weapons. The finest material amongst rowdy men.
A man walked out of his tent at the ridge of the camp; he gave off the presence of a leader. This must be the group that killed my family! A sudden thought hit me. I needed to escape, to do something fast before this man that carried me led me to my sacrifice.
I swung my arm up elbowing him in the chin. My sudden movement startled him that he accidentally dropped me. I landed on my back with a ‘humph’, rolled over and ran.
“Wait! No, come back!” The man who held me screamed. The soldiers didn’t know quite what to do. They stepped aside letting me pass. I didn’t worry about my bag of supplies I just needed to escape.
I heard a man yelling and the sound of hooves stomping towards me. I began to run into a sprint deeper into the forest. I felt pretty far from them when a knife zipped just above my head and struck a tree in front of me. I stopped and turned to see who had thrown it and was startled. The same big brutal looking man guided his horse in front of me. He had an air of superiority, strong and clever. His hair was thick black but never reached past his eyes, his eyes a bluish gray and his stature showed of royalty. But he was grim like the other soldiers; a king who fought with his men rather than simply giving orders.
“I am no use to you, you might as well kill me now like you did my brother!” I snapped. I held back the tears that fought to overcome me for fear he might think me weak.
“We did not kill your brother, we have taken the lives of that fleet and I have no desire to kill an innocent little girl.”
“That still leaves me not being of use to you.”
“Not yet,” He reached his arm down to me expectantly.
The situation was bleak. Life or death. Death was easy – running out into the forest and this man possibly sinking a knife into my back and leaving me to bleed to death or for it to be instant. Or Life – I could go with this man and struggle to overcome the obstacles in my path. However, I swore to my family their death would not go unheard and to successfully manage this I would have to be alive. I craved the death of the person in charge of killing my parents thus I would need to be alive. Could I have this man train me to be an excellent killer? And what information did my parents only dare speak in secrets that lead them to sacrifice their lives for me?
“With me I can protect you. Out there you will die or spend your entire life running.”
I reached my hand out to his and grabbed it tentatively. His strong grasp was no surprise and his skin was rough like my father’s were. He hauled me up onto his lap, securing me so I would not slide of the side or jump off to escape again and trotted back through the crowd.
He set up a little bed for me to rest and I did not complain. A guard was to be with me every moment of every day, attending to my every needs and answer my questions but not give anything away about the men who killed my brother. No matter who I asked or how many times I ask they would remain silent. Eventually, I gave up. But I made it easy for them by sleeping most of the time, only waking to eat and travel with them through the woods.
The rain never stopped, only relaxed to a quiet drizzle and then came down hard again. Only once I had shared a tent with the brute leader. He was a quiet man, a thinking man who’s actions were almost always calculated. He came to my side when he noticed my stare and pulled the covers up to my shoulders.
“We are near my castle, your new home. So rest now, rest well, you may not get a deeper sleep like this for years to come.” He whispered to me as I closed my eyes into a dreamless night.