Disclaimer: The Obernewtyn Chronicles and all characters and settings within them are the property of Isobelle Carmody and her publishers.
The Rot
Guilty. The word sent a shudder down my spine, though I tried to suppress it. It was odd, I thought, how quickly the tables could turn. Only a few moons ago, Councillor Liam had laughed at my perceptiveness and ruffled my hair, called me 'lad'. Now, clad in all the power and majesty of the Council, he radiated disgust. - and, yes, fear - at the mere sight of me, knowing what I was. Misfit.
''I hearby give you into the care of Obernewtyn, where you shall remain at the Council's pleasure.''
I went cold at his words, all the while knowing only my late father's rank had allowed me even this small mercy. The Council would never Burn one so close to their ranks, for to do so would be to admit even they were not immune to the horrors that had been the legacy of the Great White.
Someone - a soldierguard, I supposed - tugged none-to-gently at my arm, steering me past the double doors of the courtroom and down unfamiliar corridors. I stumbled once, and flinched when a wave of the man's revulsion rolled over me. ''Should've drowned ye at birth, yer white-eyed freak.''
I said nothing sensing t'would be useless in the wake of what I was. ''Wait here.'' He pulled me to a halt, and I waited for the sound of his retreating footsteps before gingerly beginning to explore my surroundings. No sense in leaving me with a guard, after all. Even had my memory been enough to guide me out of the Councilcourt, I had never been in Sutrium alone and on foot. I smiled, almost, at the memory of coming here, before my father died - the smell of the horses and the sound of the carriage wheels on the cobblestones, my fear at being found out tempered by the knowledge my father would always protect me. I had imagined this, at times, in the safety of my bed at night, but it had always been a surreal fear - who could imagine that my father's colleagues - men who had never been aught but good and kind to me - would turn against me so?
My hands found a chair of sorts - a wooden bench, nothing of the kind I was used to, and I sat cautiously, not entirely sure the rough soldierguard would not return at any moment. He did not, however, and I allowed myself to relax, though only slightly, fearful of releasing the gibbering panic that had been present in the back of my mind since my sentence had been pronounced.
Time passed - I do not know how long. I began to feel almost drowsy, fear stealing my wits and strength.
''Come along, you.'' Someone shook me, and I realised with a start I had fallen asleep upon the bench, my neck twisted at a most uncomfortably angle. I rose slowly, wondering if this was the same man had escorted me before. No - not escorted, guarded, I reminded myself. This was no longer a place where I might consider myself safe and respected.
As I rose, I became aware of a strange, bright presence beside the man. He - or perhaps she, for the presence was peculiarly androgynous, verily radiated curiosity, the feeling almost ticklish to my empathy. I nearly grinned at it, but caught myself in time - I had been often admonished for allowing my feelings to show too clearly on my face. "School your expressions, lad!'' My father would cry. "Just because you cannot see your face does not mean others are not watching it!''
I was lead outside, a bitterly cold wind ripping through my insufficient clothing. There was the sound of a carriage door opening, the soldierguard grunting as he wrestled with the frozen hinges.
''In yer get, then.''
I felt the bright presence shift uncertainly, flickering in a way that might have alarmed me, had I not already been so tired and afraid. ''I cannot see.'' I said softly, and felt the man recoil in spirit even as he reached out to guide me into the carriage - unfortunately, as cold as it had been outside. But at least I was out of the wind...
''You too,'' I heard him mutter, and the carriage shifted ever so slightly as the presence - whoever it was - joined me. There was the soft click of the lock beside me, and suddenly, it seemed, the man was gone. I shifted uncomfortably, unsure of what to make of my company.
''Hullo,'' a soft, high voice whispered, and a small hand touched my cheek. I did smile, then. A child.
Of course - the queerly undefined gender and unadulterated emotions should have allowed me to see it from the start.
''I'm Ariel. Are you...'' The voice trailed off uncertainly.
''Blind? Yes. My name is Dameon.'' I smiled again, wondering at this strange child. He - I was certain now that this was a he - could not have been older than eleven, to have such a nature. Not that I, at fifteen, was so very much older - but it felt a lifetime.
''Are you going to Obernewtyn too?''
I was mildly astonished at the openness of his question. One simply did not speak so of Obernewtyn - it was taboo, a place to be spoken of in whispers of the night behind closed doors.
''I ... yes.'' I finally answered, unsure of how to reply to such frankness, save in kind.
''That's good. I was scared they'd make me go on my own.'' Again, the frightening change in his emotions. The child must be a little simple, I decided, for his nature to be so uncertain. I had seen how the simple minded reacted to their own fear with violence, knowing no other way, and pitied them for it. Just as suddenly, and simple, I pitied this child. He was young, and afraid, and most probably did not fully comprehend his fate.
''Tell me about yourself, Ariel.'' I said gently, hoping the use of his name might calm him.
''I.. I'm ten years old, and i...'' He stopped, and I felt his confusion. Poor boy.
''Tell me what you look like, lad.'' I heard him shift on the seat before me, as he pondered his answer.
''My hair's yellow.'' He said at least. ''And my mam used to say my eyes looked like bits cut out of the sky, and maybe they'd turned like that from looking at it too often.''
It was late evening when we finally stopped, or perhaps early morning. Save for a brief halt to water the horses and eat a decidedly unappealing midmeal, we had been traveling since mid-morning. Ariel was now curled up against me, my arm around his back. He had shifted there when we passed through the tainted ground, falling asleep shortly after.
The coachman - a gruff, kindly man who had shown unspoken compassion when he realised my impairment - unlocked the door once again, peering in at us both. I shook Ariel gently, and he woke with an excess of yawning and stretching, before clambering out of the carriage. I followed more slowly, smiling gratefully when the coachman - Enoch, he said - placed a guiding hand on my arm.
I heard the soft sounds of a fountain nearby, and further away, the howl of a dog - or perhaps a wolf. I trembled, but strangely enough, felt only more curiosity emanate from Ariel at the sound. Such will be his downfall, I thought, with a sudden chilling flash of premonition, and heard the doors to Obernewtyn open. Someone - a guardian, most likely - stood there silently. Distinctly feminine, this person possessed none of the characteristics one normally associates with a woman. This person was cold, hard, and calculating - and, I realised, completely focused on me. I drew back slightly, shielding my mind. She was no Misfit, I was sure, but she possessed a unique ability to inspire fear - and trust, I suspected, if one allowed her to.
Beside me, Enoch's emotions had shifted from a sort of casual weariness to something more deferential, barely masking an intense dislike. He's afraid too, I thought.
''New arrivals, Madam. This one,'' his hand tightened on my arm, ''is blind.''
I felt her attention shift with a silent sigh of relief, as she regarded him. ''Thankyou, Enoch. You may leave.''
He relaxed somewhat at his dismissal, and squeezed my arm again - this time, I realised, in silent support.
She placed a hand upon my shoulder, and I barely resisted the urge to leap back.
''Come. I will show you where you will stay tonight.''
I nodded silently in assent, for I could not do otherwise, and allowed myself to be guided with deceptive gentleness through the halls of Obernewtyn, concentrating on suppressing my Talent. Even so, I felt the sorrow and fear the years had worn into the stone, and experienced a fresh wave of horror. What had happened here?
We stopped suddenly, and I heard again the click of a lock.
''You will be sent for in the morning.'' The woman said. ''You will not dally.''
And with that, she departed. I felt my way about the room, fingers brushing the stone wall, till I came to an unoccupied bed. I lay down wearily, pulling the wool blankets about my shoulders. Anxiety had kept me awake thus far, but now I was simply too tired to care.
There was a soft rustle and I felt Ariel climb in beside me, his small face, wet with tears, pressed against my neck.
''She frightened me.''
''It will be alright.''
A pause. Then, very quietly, ''Do you promise?''
I did not reply - I was already asleep.
The Rot
Guilty. The word sent a shudder down my spine, though I tried to suppress it. It was odd, I thought, how quickly the tables could turn. Only a few moons ago, Councillor Liam had laughed at my perceptiveness and ruffled my hair, called me 'lad'. Now, clad in all the power and majesty of the Council, he radiated disgust. - and, yes, fear - at the mere sight of me, knowing what I was. Misfit.
''I hearby give you into the care of Obernewtyn, where you shall remain at the Council's pleasure.''
I went cold at his words, all the while knowing only my late father's rank had allowed me even this small mercy. The Council would never Burn one so close to their ranks, for to do so would be to admit even they were not immune to the horrors that had been the legacy of the Great White.
Someone - a soldierguard, I supposed - tugged none-to-gently at my arm, steering me past the double doors of the courtroom and down unfamiliar corridors. I stumbled once, and flinched when a wave of the man's revulsion rolled over me. ''Should've drowned ye at birth, yer white-eyed freak.''
I said nothing sensing t'would be useless in the wake of what I was. ''Wait here.'' He pulled me to a halt, and I waited for the sound of his retreating footsteps before gingerly beginning to explore my surroundings. No sense in leaving me with a guard, after all. Even had my memory been enough to guide me out of the Councilcourt, I had never been in Sutrium alone and on foot. I smiled, almost, at the memory of coming here, before my father died - the smell of the horses and the sound of the carriage wheels on the cobblestones, my fear at being found out tempered by the knowledge my father would always protect me. I had imagined this, at times, in the safety of my bed at night, but it had always been a surreal fear - who could imagine that my father's colleagues - men who had never been aught but good and kind to me - would turn against me so?
My hands found a chair of sorts - a wooden bench, nothing of the kind I was used to, and I sat cautiously, not entirely sure the rough soldierguard would not return at any moment. He did not, however, and I allowed myself to relax, though only slightly, fearful of releasing the gibbering panic that had been present in the back of my mind since my sentence had been pronounced.
Time passed - I do not know how long. I began to feel almost drowsy, fear stealing my wits and strength.
''Come along, you.'' Someone shook me, and I realised with a start I had fallen asleep upon the bench, my neck twisted at a most uncomfortably angle. I rose slowly, wondering if this was the same man had escorted me before. No - not escorted, guarded, I reminded myself. This was no longer a place where I might consider myself safe and respected.
As I rose, I became aware of a strange, bright presence beside the man. He - or perhaps she, for the presence was peculiarly androgynous, verily radiated curiosity, the feeling almost ticklish to my empathy. I nearly grinned at it, but caught myself in time - I had been often admonished for allowing my feelings to show too clearly on my face. "School your expressions, lad!'' My father would cry. "Just because you cannot see your face does not mean others are not watching it!''
I was lead outside, a bitterly cold wind ripping through my insufficient clothing. There was the sound of a carriage door opening, the soldierguard grunting as he wrestled with the frozen hinges.
''In yer get, then.''
I felt the bright presence shift uncertainly, flickering in a way that might have alarmed me, had I not already been so tired and afraid. ''I cannot see.'' I said softly, and felt the man recoil in spirit even as he reached out to guide me into the carriage - unfortunately, as cold as it had been outside. But at least I was out of the wind...
''You too,'' I heard him mutter, and the carriage shifted ever so slightly as the presence - whoever it was - joined me. There was the soft click of the lock beside me, and suddenly, it seemed, the man was gone. I shifted uncomfortably, unsure of what to make of my company.
''Hullo,'' a soft, high voice whispered, and a small hand touched my cheek. I did smile, then. A child.
Of course - the queerly undefined gender and unadulterated emotions should have allowed me to see it from the start.
''I'm Ariel. Are you...'' The voice trailed off uncertainly.
''Blind? Yes. My name is Dameon.'' I smiled again, wondering at this strange child. He - I was certain now that this was a he - could not have been older than eleven, to have such a nature. Not that I, at fifteen, was so very much older - but it felt a lifetime.
''Are you going to Obernewtyn too?''
I was mildly astonished at the openness of his question. One simply did not speak so of Obernewtyn - it was taboo, a place to be spoken of in whispers of the night behind closed doors.
''I ... yes.'' I finally answered, unsure of how to reply to such frankness, save in kind.
''That's good. I was scared they'd make me go on my own.'' Again, the frightening change in his emotions. The child must be a little simple, I decided, for his nature to be so uncertain. I had seen how the simple minded reacted to their own fear with violence, knowing no other way, and pitied them for it. Just as suddenly, and simple, I pitied this child. He was young, and afraid, and most probably did not fully comprehend his fate.
''Tell me about yourself, Ariel.'' I said gently, hoping the use of his name might calm him.
''I.. I'm ten years old, and i...'' He stopped, and I felt his confusion. Poor boy.
''Tell me what you look like, lad.'' I heard him shift on the seat before me, as he pondered his answer.
''My hair's yellow.'' He said at least. ''And my mam used to say my eyes looked like bits cut out of the sky, and maybe they'd turned like that from looking at it too often.''
It was late evening when we finally stopped, or perhaps early morning. Save for a brief halt to water the horses and eat a decidedly unappealing midmeal, we had been traveling since mid-morning. Ariel was now curled up against me, my arm around his back. He had shifted there when we passed through the tainted ground, falling asleep shortly after.
The coachman - a gruff, kindly man who had shown unspoken compassion when he realised my impairment - unlocked the door once again, peering in at us both. I shook Ariel gently, and he woke with an excess of yawning and stretching, before clambering out of the carriage. I followed more slowly, smiling gratefully when the coachman - Enoch, he said - placed a guiding hand on my arm.
I heard the soft sounds of a fountain nearby, and further away, the howl of a dog - or perhaps a wolf. I trembled, but strangely enough, felt only more curiosity emanate from Ariel at the sound. Such will be his downfall, I thought, with a sudden chilling flash of premonition, and heard the doors to Obernewtyn open. Someone - a guardian, most likely - stood there silently. Distinctly feminine, this person possessed none of the characteristics one normally associates with a woman. This person was cold, hard, and calculating - and, I realised, completely focused on me. I drew back slightly, shielding my mind. She was no Misfit, I was sure, but she possessed a unique ability to inspire fear - and trust, I suspected, if one allowed her to.
Beside me, Enoch's emotions had shifted from a sort of casual weariness to something more deferential, barely masking an intense dislike. He's afraid too, I thought.
''New arrivals, Madam. This one,'' his hand tightened on my arm, ''is blind.''
I felt her attention shift with a silent sigh of relief, as she regarded him. ''Thankyou, Enoch. You may leave.''
He relaxed somewhat at his dismissal, and squeezed my arm again - this time, I realised, in silent support.
She placed a hand upon my shoulder, and I barely resisted the urge to leap back.
''Come. I will show you where you will stay tonight.''
I nodded silently in assent, for I could not do otherwise, and allowed myself to be guided with deceptive gentleness through the halls of Obernewtyn, concentrating on suppressing my Talent. Even so, I felt the sorrow and fear the years had worn into the stone, and experienced a fresh wave of horror. What had happened here?
We stopped suddenly, and I heard again the click of a lock.
''You will be sent for in the morning.'' The woman said. ''You will not dally.''
And with that, she departed. I felt my way about the room, fingers brushing the stone wall, till I came to an unoccupied bed. I lay down wearily, pulling the wool blankets about my shoulders. Anxiety had kept me awake thus far, but now I was simply too tired to care.
There was a soft rustle and I felt Ariel climb in beside me, his small face, wet with tears, pressed against my neck.
''She frightened me.''
''It will be alright.''
A pause. Then, very quietly, ''Do you promise?''
I did not reply - I was already asleep.