Another Chance
Disclaimer: I wish I did, but unfortunately I do not own Joren of Stone Mountain. All characters in Protector of the Small legally belong to Tamora Pierce.
I'm searching for you, my dear
In this endless
maze
Of swirling coloured patterns
I want to get a bit closer
to you
- Hikaru Utada, "Another Chance"
Prologue:
The Chamber of Ordeal can reveal your future, fears and ambitions, deepest desires and demons. It can also be anything, for Joren it was a mirrored maze. Everywhere he looked, all around him, above and below all he saw was himself. There was at least several thousand Jorens glazing back at him. Some of the images were not as handsome as their object of reflection. These mirrors came in all shapes and curves; they were plane, concave, convex. What a joke, I can't be scared by mirrors. I am going to find myself out of this maze. No wonder Trebond was made knight, this test is a circus house. He placed his hands on one of the mirrors and began feeling around for an edge; he could no longer rely on his sight in a place like this for it only showed him illusions.
"Oww," he drew his hands away. The edge of a plane mirror was sharper than he had anticipated. The cut on his middle finger was not severe, and he once again mocked the chamber for inflicting such minute injures on him.
"Stone Mountain." Called softly by a too familiar voice. Lord Wyldon? Why is he here?! He ran in the direction of his training masters voice, but no one was in sight.
"Yes sir?" It was another voice that seemed to come from one of the mirrors. As Joren looked into it, he realized it was not his reflection he is seeing. More precisely, the mirror did not reflect the man standing in front of it, but it showed Joren of Stone Mountain alright. Standing at equi-distance as he is now, in the virtual plane of the mirror was a boy. He was barely in his adolescence for his voice was still soundly soprano.
Joren remember how pink his face was his boyhood; this little boy maintained that same blush except was even redder than usual in face of embarrassment. His left eye was blacken and the lids were starting to swell; his lips were bleeding, and the rest of him was not in better condition.
"Did you fall down the stairs again, Page Joren?" Lord Wyldon asked rhetorically.
The young Joren averted his eyes to the ground, not daring to look into the face of Wyldon. "Yes, I did, sir."
"I advise you to see a palace healer tomorrow morning. Now off to your rooms, first years should not be wandering around in the castles at this hour of the night. Or they might trip and stumble down the stairs again."
"Yes, sir. Good night, sir." Joren ran pass Wyldon and turned into the page's wing. That was been the most humiliating moment of his twelves years, to stand in front of his training master guilty, weak, and a liar. When he got to his room he shut the door loudly, not caring if anyone was awaken by it. It was not fair, surely new pages were expected to run errands for the older pages it was tradition, he did not mind tradition, it taught discipline. But treatment towards him was extremely cruel, even the other pages recognized that, but they kept their knowledge silent. No one wanted to help "the girl". "The girl" was what he was known as. His rosy cheeks and fair appearance often caused people to mistake his gender. It made him look weak, even though he was not, and he was eager to prove them wrong. He remained as the top student of his year, in both academics and combating arts. Maybe that's why no one in his year would help him when he was bullied, they had always helped each other with their fights and wounds but never him. He was left to heal on his own. A sob was suppressed as he let out a heavy breath. Boys do not cry, and that is what I am. No matter what jokes they make, I am a boy. And one day I will be a strong and respected knight. He looked into his drawing mirror, but instead of seeing himself covered with injuries, he sees a young man, distinct with his own features staring back. But he was not a rosy blushing boy, the image in the mirror showed someone who could almost be a knight, tall and well-built figured, well defined face. That is the man I am going to become one day, the younger Joren said to himself as he slipped into sound sleep.
--
The Joren still in the chamber realized the mirror no longer reflect his memories, he was looking back into the plane mirror at the undistorted and accurately reflected image of himself as he is now. The memories Joren had used all mental strength to bury was just uncovered vividly and sparring no details; he was not only a spectator but a player, as he watched his younger self. He felt every emotion that had ran through the boy during the scene. The Chamber was not to be mocked, for it can resurface what is deeply embedded into one's unconscious. Joren remember how alone he was at that time, and how alone he still is now. The only reason Vinson and Zahir hang around me was because I agreed to tutor them for the exams at the end of first year. They were after all his friends-with-benefits, but not to be mistaken for anything lustful and vile between them.
"There you are!" Joren turned around to find his younger self standing three meters behind him. Not another memory, he almost said out loud. The boy began running towards. Believing this to be another optical illusion, Joren stood still and closed his eyes. He would not be deceived or forced to witness another memory if he cannot see. But the boy was no optical illusion, he began punching and kicking Joren about the waist. Joren opened his eyes to close them again wincing. Even though this Joren could be no older than thirteen, the force he exerted in his attacks matched that of a man. "You... you... you are not only a bully," the boy began yelling as he continued to aggressively hit Joren. "You are cruel, sadistic. A bigot! Strength has made you stupid."
At this point Joren began fighting back, but his defenses and attacks made no avail. This is pathetic he was loosing to a boy who barely reach puberty. He knew he could not continue to fight this... memory, after all the boy is not real, and who knew what could this doppelganger of himself do. "Let's talk this out," Joren pledge the boy. "Stop. I will change."
"No you won't," cried younger Joren as he threw a punch into Joren's eye.
"Another chance, one more chance, all I ask for."
The boy withdrew his fist, "It is in the nature of a noble knight to be forgiving. One last chance, that is all you will get." The next moment all the mirrors hand disappeared and Joren's body fell into the cold Chamber floor.
--
Author's Note: I had originally planned this to be a long KJ story, but I only got to publish two chapters of it. I decided to come back and revise and rework on this story. This prologue is newly written, the first chapter is the combination of the first two chapters in the original version.
