CRYSTAL
KUMANI
Chapter 1 : Crystal Memoirs
By Arach
Herald Moya Orden woke from
her nightmare covered in a cold sweat. She couldn't fathom what it meant—she
had no foresight—but it had been a recurring dream for
months now. Always the same thing: a beach (where exactly she couldn't quite
say, and Phoenix, if he knew anything, refused to speak), and she was with
a man. She was dragging him--his mouth was gagged and his hands bound, and she
pulled him on with a rope bound tightly, too tightly, around his neck. And
then, and then she would--
:Calm down, Chosen. Whatever it was, it never happened.: her Companion assured her, easing her mind with
feather-light Caresses. And yet, she could not keep the sobs from welling up.
She choked on her tears, holding her face in her hand as she wept, confused and
feeling as empty as Before--
No, her mind told her. There was never a Before. Not
ever.
She had faint memories of a childhood spent in Haven, in a
middle-class family of...jewelers, her mind supplied. Yes,
jewelers. But the family shop had gone up in flames, killing her father and
mother and siblings. The only reason she'd survived was Phoenix, who came and rescued her, and
Chosen her as he ran out the crumbling door. She half-smiled: Phoenix always loved drama. She did not
remember anything else; no friends, nor other
relations. This was odd, but she never questioned it.
In the darkness, Resshin squealed and flew off from
his perch to land amidst the bed sheets, purring as he rubbed against the young
woman, and chittered with worry. She sniffed and
managed a small smile, picking him up and cuddling him with infinite care.
Whereas Phoenix provided love and support on a mental level, Resshin satisfied her emotional needs on a physical kind,
with hugs and cuddles Phoenix could not give her, as much as he
tried.
She could feel his small head rubbing against her neck lovingly, the warmth of
his breath making her skin tingling. Her fears eased, she cracked a bigger
smile and let herself fall back on the bed. As he curled up against her, she
let herself relax. Soon, she slept.
=============================
He waited. Not very long now, he knew: Moya, silly Moya...and stupid horse for making her forget. Now she
would be his...his mistress would be pleased. He sharpened his knife with a
stone, eyeing the blade malevolently. Such a shame they wanted her alive. He
would have loved to see her scream, see her writhe as he cut her, marked her,
raped her, killed her. He knew the art of torture: there
were so many painful things he could do to her, make her yell in agony, without
killing her.
=============================
"Gods, I love this place. Especially when it's mine alone..." she
murmured, taking a book from the shelf. The Herald's Library was huge, and,
considering the Sovvan festivities were going on
outside, the great chamber was all but empty. The oil lamps on the walls hadn't
been lit yet, as outside, the sun retreated, casting its dying titian glow upon
the scene of dancers and party-goers alive on the Palace grounds.
She dropped the large, leather-bound tome on the table in front of her and
grinned with anticipation, sliding into a chair to read. Putting a finger to
her lips to wet it, she carefully flipped through the pages, going back to
where she had left off the previous day. A book on ancient Karsite culture:
about the Burning Times, just before the great Solaris became Son of the Sun
and Valdemar's traditional joined the Alliance. She read avidly, until it became
dark outside and all there was to read by were oil lamps on the walls and the
lanterns outside. As she moved to put the book back, another volume, this one
set by the very end of her table, caught her eye. She frowned. Probably, a
trainee had left it; Herald-Chronicler Shanna hated
to see her books out of their shelves for no reason, and indiscriminately let
this be known. With a small, slightly disgusted sigh she trotted over to the
book, eyeing it. The words, printed upon the cover in lovely sans-serif font,
flashed silver. Behind it was the crest of Valdemar, white and blue, with Windrider, ever proud, rearing. 'Haven Census, 1432'
was the book: every three years the Crown made a head count of all those living
in Haven, as well as every other town in the country. This was an old copy; it
dated from about ten years back, the same year the fire ravaged her home and
took her family. Out of curiosity, she put back her novel and took up this new
one, gingerly going through its pages, looking for the entry Orden. There were about nine Orden
families living in Haven--the name, after all, was not uncommon--but, to her
astonishment, could find no "Moya Orden" amongst any of them. Surely she had been
counted...or had she? She could not remember. A bit shaken by this revelation,
she set the book back in its place.
"Moya? Moya, there you are!" her head snapped to attention as
a familiar voice erupted across the Library, only to be comically shushed with
equal volume by those few reading.
"Erm, um, Moya..."
Herald Frittan murmured bashfully, grinning like a mischevious child caught in the act. His wispy red hair
flared out like an aureole about his freckled face, granting him an
ever-youthful air. His soft-shod feet made no sound as he stepped over to her,
his Whites looking--were those ale stains? Knowing Frittan,
they could be anything, she mused. Resshin,
looking mightily pleased, sat upon the man's shoulder, preening. Moya tried hard not to giggle, but smiled widely in return.
Frittan was one of her first and best friends, one of
the few who could really make her laugh, and never asked questions she could
not answer.
"Heylas, Frittan."
she whispered back, ushering him out of the athenaeum. "So," she
said, louder, once they'd made a decent number of paces across the tiled floor,
"what's so important to make you set foot in such a horrid,
terrible place as the Library?"
He laughed at her crack at his disdain for reading, and took her hand as Resshin leapt from his shoulder to hers. "Resshin and I were having so much fun outside; we nearly
forgot you were still cooped up in here. So we decided we'd kidnap you."
She lifted a hand, gently brushing a finger against the little Change Beast's
chin. "Kidnap, eh? Sounds like serious business."
"Absolutely." he said mock-gravely, and Resshin
nodded, "It was all his idea, the crafty little bugger." the man
winked, leading her out of the Palace grounds and onto the streets, where they
were joined by Phoenix and Frittan's mare, Tsara.
:Have a nice book-romp?: Phoenix asked, nuzzling the side of her neck
not occupied by a purring fluffball. She hesitated
for a fraction of a second before answering him.
:Yes, quite. And you, you incorrigible
creature, have been taking gifts from the children again.:
There was apple on his breath as he exhaled against her ear. He tossed his mane
at her comment, looking as sneaky as a Companion could, :You
know they simply can't resist me.:
:You're terrible.: she chuckled and batted his nose away playfully.
The night was spent with Frittan as he guided her
down the streets, to various stands giving out treats of all kinds. Knowing the
redheaded Herald, by the time most of the celebration was over, Moya was roaring drunk, much to her companions' amusement.
"Hey, Frit', look o'er there...yesse, I tolya this ain't th'way t'the palace..." Moya slurred, leaning on her much more alcohol-resistant
friend. Hadn't they been this way before?
"I'm sure it isn't..." Frittan humored her
patiently, grinning, an arm about her shoulders. By this time, no one who
passed cared much about a drunk Herald, seeing as most of the passer-by's were
just as drunk themselves. It was probably the only reason Frittan
had let her out of the pub.
She was suddenly overtaken by a though: wasn't this a shortcut? She eyed the
alley for a moment before catching Frittan's sleeve
and pulled him along.
"Come on, ish dish way!"
"But—"
She didn't give him any time to pause as she dragged him into the alley. Phoenix and Tsara
whickered at them as they went, deciding to wait at the entrance of the alley:
it was too narrow for Companions, and Frittan would
probably manage to lead the drunken Moya back out.
Little did any of them know what awaited in the cold,
damp dark…
Silly, silly Moya…
Authors note: (this is Fox, not the author of the wonderful chapter above ^^) Review! My poor little Meri-kit thinks it's no good, but we know different, don't we? (*glares and threatens with a big stick for those who refuse to flatter*)