Chapters:

Chapter 1 - Drawn In Salt

Sommertide, Last of Bittersun, Year of the Flame Valkyrie (old calendar)

28th Day of the month of Bittersun, Year 102 A.S. – After Sundering (new calendar)





The pale sun hanging low in the sky did little to warm Nahla as she trudged back towards her home on the outskirts of the village of Burnewick. Pulling the lead of a reluctant mule, she sighed. Nahla seemed to sigh a lot these days. Abruptly, the mule dug it’s hooves into the soft earth of the trail and lowered its head to nibble at the grass beside it.


Nahla groaned, dismayed. Knowing from past experience that the ornery beast was obsessed with filling its stomach and would not move again until the grassy mound was fully denuded, she slackened her grip on the lead rope. Already she was well overdue to get back and no doubt her maman would be worried but certainly not surprised by her tardiness.


It’s not my fault! Nahla thought. It’s just that I… The thought trailed off as a wave of guilt passed over her. Nahla sighed. Again. It is my fault. I had been so proud that maman had allowed me to go alone to collect the salt for the Harvestide tithe. Once there it had been far too tempting to test her hunting skills against the more challenging game of the Deep Woods. It was normally a place forbidden to her as too dangerous Well, except for those times she accompanied her maman Ela to prepare and harvest the salt for the village and for the biannual tithe. Glancing at the brace of birds slung over the back of the mule, Nahla sighed. Yet again. Maman might be pleased with the extra meat, but the wait will surely upset her Nahla thought. Normally the village head would have received the tithe by now she worried. He would be ready to greet the official collector from the High King in the morrow, but this unseasonal rain... She glanced at the muddy ground, normally hard baked by the sun this late in the season.The unusually wet weather this Sommertide had run off into the briny stream that was used in the salt harvest. So much additional fresh water had diluted the little stream to the degree that it had taken considerably longer to collect enough for the tithe.


Nahla looked at the mule lipping at the grass. He, for it was a male, had finished about half the grass on the mound. Wrapping the rope more firmly into her hand and settling her bow at her feet, Nahla made use of a convenient rock and sat down. I may as well be comfortable while you gorge she thought with annoyance. Her thoughts drifted back to her maman. Not for the first time she wondered where maman had lived before the village. Many times Nahla had heard how her mother had arrived to the village half dead and in labour almost 16 years ago. In dire straits and unable to go any further, Ela had collapsed in the village centre while trying to barter for supplies to continue her journey. While villages in the Outlands were usually suspicious of strangers and welcomed them not, there had been an upwelling of sympathy for such a pitiful creature as she, trying to run away in her condition. Indeed, Ela had become an integral part of the village and was much beloved by all for her kindness and ingenuity.

Most in the village knew of or were related to at least one girl who had been ‘acquired’ by the gentry, ostentatiously to work in a household, but in reality forced to become body slaves. While Ela was tight lipped about what had led her to the village, most assumed she had escaped from life as a body slave to protect her youngling, as it was common practise to cleanse them of any child so they could be kept working. This belief of the villagers had been reinforced as Ela had regained her health, as it became obvious she was a stunning beauty. Nahla, however, was not convinced. Sometimes maman used strange words and said things differently to how others spoke. She seemed to know things that no one else did too. With her tawny skin and nut brown hair, her maman looked like most of the peoples of the outland, with their golden skin, and hair and eyes in all shades of brown. That is if you discounted her distinctive green eyes. Most in the village put this down to Ela having thrown back to some Syldari or Entari ancestor from the days of old when the other races freely intermingled and married with Hoames, but Nahla wasn’t so sure. Especially when you considered how Nahla herself looked.


Winding a length of hair over her forefinger, Nahla stared at it critically. Deep, burnished red strands, almost metallic in colour, wrapped around her finger. While red heads were not that common in the Outlands, there were some. They generally bore hair of a more ginger variety, quite unlike her own. On its own, it might be overlooked, but what set Nahla apart was the colour of her skin. In a land of warm gold and bronze, hers was a light, creamy, almost luminous green. Not that I see much of it though, as maman makes me soak at least once a month in a tub of water mixed with a tincture . Made of tree bark and nut shells, it served to both muddy up the colour of her skin and tone down the brightness of her hair. Seeing the sun glinting off the strands threaded onto her finger, Nahla realised that tonight would have to be tub night, especially with the collector expected in town on the morrow. It was wise not to attract the attention of strangers.


Shuddering, Nahla remembered how her friend Katya had caught the eye of the official collector three and a half years ago, at the Seedtide tithe. The official had kept looking at her with ill-disguised desire whilst trying to hide the obvious bulge in his breeches. He had laid a rug over his lap as if cold, despite the mild weather that month of Frostmelt. When the tithing was completed and counted, he offered Katya’s parents a sum of three gold pieces, a veritable fortune in these parts, for her service as a chambermaid at his residence in the large town he resided. Nervously they declined, pointing out her young age. With an untroubled air, the official had seemingly accepted their refusal and had left. However, the next morning it was discovered that Katya was missing, and three gold pieces had been left on the pillow of her bed. Katya eventually returned, about four months ago, frail in body with dead eyes. Her face was marred from a fresh scar on the left side of her face, from the outer edge of her eye to the corner of her mouth. Nahla had later learned that Katya had scarred herself deliberately with a broken shard of pottery to lessen her value as a body slave. Her gambit had worked and she had been allowed to return to Burnewick. She had been lucky. Many used up body slaves were never seen by their loved ones again. It was good that the dye would make her skin and hair nondescript she thought. Too bad there nothing that would do the same for her eyes.


Pulling her dagger from its sheathe at her waist with her free hand, Nahla attempted to catch a glimpse of her eyes on its polished edge, but could see nothing. She sighed. She had never really seen her eyes, except in a cloudy bucket of water drawn from the village well. They were kind of blue, but not really. The closest thing she had seen to the colour her eyes were was when the lavender flowered during Seedtide and Sommertide. Once when she had related this to her mother, maman had corrected her saying there were the colour of amethysts. When Nahla had tried to ask maman about how she would know what colour a royal precious stone would be, maman became tight-lipped and almost angry and sent her muck out the tiny mud brick hut that housed their animals. Nahla had felt that had been most unfair. She had only asked a question, after all. Everyone knew that there was a precious gem called amethyst that was only allowed to be used by the Royal House. No one Nahla knew had ever seen one to know its colour, so how did maman? Perhaps maman had come from the citadel, or even the capitol! she pondered. Wherever she was from only added to the mystery of Ela’s origin.


Nahla knew that her mother arrived on the back of a young stallion that was finer than any seen in the village. She knew because she cleaned up after grumpy creature most days. By loaning out the great beast out as a stud horse to the villagers, Nahla’s mother had been instrumental in improving the quality of horseflesh in this part of the outlands. The village was far less prosperous before Ela had arrived. While wary at first, the village folk greatly appreciated the injection of new blood into their steeds but it was her contribution to the livelihood of the village they valued more. When Nahla was but a babe in arms, Ela had observed how the salt was collected for tithe within the Deep Woods. It was a laborious task and involved a dangerous process of dangling over a cliff face, following the path of the briny stream. Salt deposits on the cliff face were scraped off by the young men of the village and collected. It was not uncommon for the young men to slip or fall several feel to the small pool below and many sported injuries. In that gentle way of hers, Ela had quietly pulled aside the village blacksmith and began to outline her idea for a better way, a safer way.


Not three months later, the blacksmith and Ela had assembled a strange device involving tubes below the cliff face. The tubes led from the stream and through some marvel of engineering carried water into a large tray off to the side of the stream with a covered fire pit below. With an eager air, Ela and the blacksmith had opened a valve to let water onto the tray and lit a slow burning fire below that would last for at least a day. They bade the villagers to return in two days to witness the fruits of their labour. To everyone’s surprise, except perhaps for the blacksmith, salt had crystalized in the bottom of the tray, all the water having been evaporated off by the slow burning fire. Immediately realising the implications of what he had witnessed, the headman appointed Ela ‘Salt Keeper’ and asked her to tend to tend to the salt from that time onward. With this one act, Nahla’s maman had freed up the menfolk of the village to take on other tasks, especially farming and making the land more bountiful. The salt could now be tendered by just one or two people and only required a small amount of work every few days.


Thinking about her mother made Nahla feel quite inadequate. Maman had done so much for the village and all I can do was try not to mess up Nahla grumbled to herself, She was so tall and uncoordinated that she often tripped over her own feet. The only time she felt remotely graceful was when she drew her bow. That was not exactly … feminine. None of the village boys ever looked at me twice, at least, not in that way she thought Sometimes they would even talk to me about a girl they liked, as if I was one of the lads. Mournfully she looked down at her chest. Nope, still flat she thought sadly. The only thing of note that Nahla had done was to be born on a day of prophecy, and really she had little to do with it, That was all maman then too.


After her sudden arrival to Burnewick village, Ela had laboured hard all night and beyond to give birth to Nahla as dawn broke the next morn. The birth was seen as an auspicious portent by the village seer, seeing as it occurred not only on the first dawn of a new month and of a new season, but on the very first day of a new cycle, the Cycle of Flame. The Year of the Flame Phoenix had long been foretold to see the coming of the Melder and to herald the beginning of a time of great change and rebirth, at least be the common folk. I am destined for greatness Nahla thought, snorting aloud at her musings, if greatness means herding a mule with an endless appetite! Laughing, Nahla tugged hard on the lead rope to hurry up the beast.


Meeting no resistance, she fell off her perch onto the earth behind her. Dumbly, Nahla sat up and looked around seeing the mule walking quickly away from her and already the fool beast had opened up a good distance between them. Nahla glanced at the rope end not in her hand and saw it had been chewed through!


“No! No! No! No!!! Stop and come back here, you stupid animal!!!” Nahla yelled after the mule as she scrambled to her feet, grabbing the remains of the lead rope and slinging her bow over her shoulder. The mule, realising the time for stealth had passed, began to slowly trot. As fat as he was, and weighed down by his load, he wasn’t very fast for a mule but he had a considerable head start. Nahla cursed her inattentiveness. Not for the first time, her daydreaming was going to get her into trouble, and this time it wouldn’t just be with her maman, but with her whole village if she didn’t get back with the tithe! Last week she had been milking the goat, but had been pondering if changing the angle of the fletching on her arrows would make them more efficient when she realised she had absentmindedly forgotten to place the milk pail in position and had wasted the entire days’ worth of milk into the ground instead. The time before that, the clean linens had somehow ended up in the pig pen.

Finally finding her footing, she sprinted after the fat mule. Obviously feeling the heat of pursuit, the beast managed to increase his speed slightly as he continued westward towards the heavily wooded area no more than two miles distant. Nahla gasped as she stumbled in shock. The idiot creature was not heading back into the Deep Woods to the northeast. Instead he loped towards the Shadow Thornlands, a place taboo to all. Increasing her pace, Nahla frantically tried to catch up to the lumbering glutton but he was too far ahead. He entered the Thornlands and almost immediately was lost from view as the gloom of the menacing trees enveloped him. Not ten paces behind, Nahla thundered after him barely slowing at the tree line. Full of trepidation she followed him into the forbidden land, her desperate need to reclaim the tithe driving her forward.