Shadow Spinners

Chapter Four

~Does the Walker choose the Path, or the Path the Walker?~

                                                                                                                                --Garth Nix, author

I was small, young. My black hair only reached half way to my back. My hands had the unnatural roughness due to the burden of hard work. But they didn't have the tiny yet numeral scars from the work with swords.

Then it dawned on me as if it was the most natural thing in the world; I was a slave.

Physics sometimes never matters, especially when it's a dream, when they change completely. Or was I in a dream? I couldn't tell—everything felt so real.  

I was young again. Innocence but not naïve. How can you be naïve when you live in a world that is ruled by Winglys, injustice—in a world of slavery? I went through my motions like in a dream, as if I had been doing them all my life.

I waited on a lady standing for hours in the cold, dark corridor, just outside her door, waiting for a snap of her fingers that signaled that she wanted something from me. My legs were strong after nine years of doing this yet my legs ached of cold prompting me however strong my legs were, that I was still only eleven winters.

And I was one of the lucky ones, I constantly reminded of myself thus, for if I was caught resting I would be beaten--and if Aukus was in the mood—whipped.

It was summer but I was cold stiff. Ice-cool drifts came repeatedly as I stood in shadows, my bones aching to the marrow with cold. The lady was probably practicing her magic. Winglys of high chaste were known for their ability not just with magic but with Water and Ice Gifts that seemed to match their hearts and glares.

Once when I was about the age of five, there was a rumor about a stone—or gem that gave higher abilities of such a Gift. The story was long since dead but the popularity of Ice Gifts continued to grow. Damn Ice Gifts—all Gifts! I thought shivering. Curse magic—I thought in disgust but stopped. Some Winglys were said to have the Gift of Sight. If they could see my thoughts….

I stopped myself once again. We weren't encouraged to think, us slaves. It surprised me this helped my problem, not to think. Not to think about all the tortures and horrors Winglys put you through if you were 'thought' to be a rebel or helping one.

Finally, it was night. Relieved of my shift I was thankful to walk to my shallow barracks, which I called home. Stars shown brightly—but I never noticed stars and they me. However, tonight something caught my attention; a shooting star. Wingly priestesses who study the stars (for the goddess of night could only be served by females) often said that shooting stars were fallen phoenixes who were pierce by Soa's arrow and falling to earth as punishment for trying to overhear Her plan of the future.

What is my future? Slavery?—No. I'll escape as soon as I get a chance, I vowed. My thoughts drifted to other things: Why would a phoenix risks it's life? That question did puzzle me. Phoenixes often kept to themselves; intelligent yet reclused, gallant creatures, at least in the myths I would overhear.

Leaving the question unanswered, I pondered which entrance I should go through. Yeori, a hard-faced woman, often scowled me and caught me entering from the front. From the back, whereas it was prohibited, I would escape the witch who boxed my ears when she felt like it and slip into bed—hopefully unnoticed. Hopefully. There was so little to hope for now—I could plainly see it in the adults' eyes. 

Quietly as I could muster, I sneaked around the barracks.

A small, humble movement from the corner of my eye startled me. A woman! I blinked. An old woman. She was in a huddle, coat over her and thin white hair poking out from a rough scarf. "Water…" she faltered in a weak, flushed voice.

"One moment," I promised. Hurriedly, I walked to the back of the barracks. This was why we were forbidden to be here—there was a tiny food storage and a pump that we were told we used too often and therefore were restricted from using more than what our owners thought necessary. Certainly for an old women it was necessary?

I already knew the answer: No. Because when a slave or one below the chaste grew old and worthless they were… taken away. Nerves getting the better of me I fumbled around looking for a utensil, worrying what would happen if Yeori found me. No, I wouldn't think about it. I found a can and filled it with water from the pump. 

"Here." The old women weakly drank and than turned up her eyes and stared. In a beastly world where everyone tried to fend for themselves there had never been time for thanks and I didn't expect it.

The woman's face was old, very old. Her wrinkles seemed to be craved into her skin. And yet—and yet, she was beautiful. Such kind eyes I had never seen before. Her being seemed grace and timidly wild but not like dear but like a torrent bird.

"Thank you," she said in a pure original accent I couldn't pinpoint.

I blinked, amazed. "You are a slave here?" I nodded. She leaned back, as if weaken by some invisible wound. She was pale, I realized she was going to die. "I know your name child," she said between a shifted gasp. "I know all about you."

I stood there, unable to say something. So many thoughts crowded my head. "Remember… remember…" she stared into my eyes; I unable to look away. "You are only free to serve the chains of fate that bind you..."

 "No," I corrected, as something all-knowing spoke through me. This women who had won my admiration for her kindness now couldn't fall to despair. Heavy words rolled from the depths of my heart, rolling and dropping off my felt-tongue like solids, "You are free to sever the chains of fate that bind you; is it not the walker that chooses the path?" I asked, identifing with a familiar Wingly proverb.

The old woman smiled a bittersweet smile. I would never forget that smile. Was it of this world—even human?  It was as if she looked at me, burning my own eyes with her own and could see my hatred for all things related to Winglys—including their beliefs of fatalism. I never knew that because of their losing fight with fatalism that I would be condemned to be an Immortal—indeed worst than death. But that again, is another story.  

"They said you would say that," were her last words. She died with that smirk and leer. Soon she grew transparent, her corpus turning into a phoenix and than the phoenix soon disappearing into the sky like incense only to be reborn in the it's endless cycle….

I woke. My eyes seemed blur, which happens when you are woken from an all-too-real-a-dream. Spots faded and the stars overhead came into focus.

"You are free to sever the chains of fate that bind you…"

The words echoed in my mind, mocking me. Over and over like a song within my pulse. I remembered little of the dream—only what seemed important to my unconscious mind.

"You are free to sever the chain of fate that bind you…"

I blinked. Something was on my forehead. It was heavy. What was it?

"Sshhh…" whisper a breath between teeth, as if to lull a small child.

Who? My hand instinctively went to my dagger. Oddly—and maybe not so oddly, I was comforted by it's presence. It's aura surging through my hand, knowing if I was in danger I could defended myself.

A clothed, wet rag was on my forehead. I remembered feeling very tried when I came to lay here. My last memory was licking my parched lips with my dry tongue, my head pounding as I blinked my eyes and unknowingly went to sleep.

"You were asleep, Master, you was sick." That voice, I hadn't heard it before but it sounded like a child.

"I am no one's master," I said in my monotone voice as I struggled to conceal my difficulty in getting  up. I am not even my own master. My shoulders felt abnormally heavy, weighted with the cloak. I finally got up and found myself facing a pair of burning amber's, that I realized in a twinkling, that those were really eyes. Those amber eyes belonged to the former slave I had freed.

Roaring was in the background; it was the sea, its view was blocked by trees, we were at the edge of the forest. I had followed the stream that soon became a river and emptied into the sea.

The boy insisted I was his Master. He was still dirty, I had said if he thought I was his master than I ordered him to wash in the sea. He did. His skin was tanned, a similar color to his eyes. I guessed he was about seven summers old. I gave him the last of the dry meat that I got from the friend I had killed. Now that he didn't look like an old man I had said that if he thought I was he master than I ordered him to not believe I was his master and go away.

I walked in a different direction. Silently the boy followed me like a shadow. I ignored his presence. That is—until he hissed inhumanly. "Your bein' followed," he said in hushed tones. "Someone is  coming, that it is." 

We hid in the brush, I unshielded my dagger. For a moment I thought I heard something. A human? No too quiet. Maybe a basilisk. Those breasts had a liking to me, I had fought four before. All I could do was wait. The boy lightly tapped my hand but my keen eyes had already spotted it.

Or rather him.

For it was the hooded lord that I had seen before—he stepped onto the path lending to an inn I had recently noticed, clearly unaware of us.

He was too quiet for a human. I didn't know I was right, for he was no human.

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R2R

Muslima's Note (or excuse): Sorry this took so long. I made this chapter a bit longer then the others and I had originally typed this on another computer so I had to go to Walmart to buy a floppy (God bless Walmart!) Then my Grandma came over for a week.

Lloyd Lover's: I plan to have him in the next chappie *squeals* I think you'll like it!!! *_^

SorsX~Thank you!! I am going to check up on your stories after I am done with this, thank for reviewing Steel Eyes I updated. LCM~Sorry for getting this out so late. You have great stories (the feeling of worthlessness is coming on again) . Kikaiyu~I love your stories! They are AWESOME how do you do it? *envy* ~_~ Aerena~Thanx so much I'm flattered *.* DarkAngelB~Great story I condemn you to update your story, where are all ur reviews?! (j/k) Thanx ever so much for reviewing (& liking) Death's Side. Just because of you I might just update!

~Muslima

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