Shadow: I'm supposed to be writing my essay for history class. But it's summer and they can kiss my ass.
Spark:...
Shadow: Anyways, I was going to put this story on hold and work on Voyage of the Dusk Rider a bit, but I'm having a (hopefully temporary) writer's block for that one. So maybe if I work on this, the ideas will come. I decided to make this story a little darker because the basic theme of the story is abandonment and ruin. (Rating will go up…) I finally decided where I want to take this…It takes place shortly after the sealing away of Alchemy. In other words, a really long time ago; back in the day.
Spark: It may seem confusing at first, but we're going to reveal more as we go along.
Chapter Two: Scapegoat
"Three hundred coins ain't gonna cut it," the woman sighed. "I want real money for this!" She held up the vial and shook it in the girl's face, taunting her even more.
"Please," the girl begged. Her face was stained with dirt and her hair was matted. Such was the look of one who had been living in an irrigation ditch for three weeks. "This is all I have. I'll make up the rest with jobs or chores. Just give it to me, please!"
"Listen child, Hermes' Water is now a rarity ever since the Mercury beacon was extinguished. I can't just go selling it to any old person who comes by," the woman explained.
"But my mother's sick! She needs it!"
The woman let out a sigh and ran her fingers through her dark hair. It was woven into dreadlocks, with a few beads woven into her hair every few strands. A traditional Dalian style. "I don't know if it'll help…" She reached into a jar and produced a small plant with bright blue berries and waxy leaves. "Take this."
"Thank you," the girl said with a smile. She gave a quick bow and ran off into the thick red dust.
"Did you just sell that girl the antidote?" another woman asked as she emerged from behind a curtain.
"What do you think?" she snapped as she placed the lid back on the jar. "Of course I didn't! You know about poor Rachel!"
"As a matter of fact, I don't," her sister sneered as she sat down on a stool.
"Her father died in the war," she answered as she dragged a root out from under the counter. "He was fighting with those that wanted the lighthouses to remain lit. But you know what happened to them…" She pulled out a cleaver and brought it down hard onto the root. She pointed to it, "that's what happened to them."
"What about the girl's mother? Can't she support herself and the girl?"
The woman scowled at her sister as she began chopping the root. "She came down with a fever. She can't work anymore since she's so sick." She scooped the slices into her hand. "No work means no money. The mayor threw her out of her house and now they live in the irrigation canals just outside of town." A dark blue mortar was at her feet. She bent down, dropped the plant onto it, and began mashing it with a pestle.
"I understand," the sister replied, although her body language said otherwise.
"You know," she whispered as she leaned in closer to her sister. "They say that an Adept cursed her. They cursed her because her husband and his allies lost the war."
Now there was a gleam of interest in her sibling's eye. "What about that man that passed through here a few days ago? Wasn't he one of 'them'?"
"Those are rumors," she snorted as she pulled away and went about mashing. "But if an Adept is found in this town, boy will they be in for it. The mayor believes that they're the ones responsible for this terrible drought we've been having." She paused for a moment to wipe her brow and gaze up at the sun.
"Well, whomever's responsible deserves a sound beating."
Every footfall released a heavy cloud of thick red dust. It hadn't rained in days and the soil was loose and could be easily blown away if you breathed on it. By the time Rachel had returned home, she was covered from head to toe in red dust. She found her mother lying in the moist mud of the irrigation ditch. "I'm back," she panted. She slid down the steep sides and landed in the sludge with a distinct "plop".
The three days in the ditch had been hard. No food, no water, and no relief from the unrelenting sun. Her mother's fever had gotten worse and her face was as red as the dust that covered Rachel's legs and feet. It wasn't healthy for her mother to be lying here in the quagmire, but they had nowhere else to go. "I brought you some medicine," she squeaked as she kneeled beside her mother. Carefully, she plucked the blue berries off their stems and forced them between her mother's dry, chapped lips.
She jumped at the sound of movement above her. Trying her best not to make a sound, she clamored up the walls and peered over the edge. Two farmers with tattered sunhats picked at the ground with their hoes. Shriveled weeds lay before them in neat rows. "It's hopeless. The crops are dead," one of them sighed.
"It's all their fault!" his companion shouted as he threw down his hoe in frustration. "What did those so-called 'scholars' know? Sealing away alchemy was the worst mistake anyone's ever made!"
"Yes, but they were afraid that it would have been used for evil. Remember, it almost happened once," his friend said as picked up the discarded tool.
"Once, it happened once," he growled. "They just wanted to prove their point. They were just jealous of the Adepts!"
"And how can you prove that?"
"I don't need to prove my point," he growled as he took the hoe away from his companion. "I know it from experience."
"What? Are you jealous of the adepts?" his friend laughed. The farmer narrowed his eyes and shot the man a menacing glare. He couldn't control his rage and so it manifested itself in the form of psyenergy. A plume of flames showered down upon the man, sending him staggering backwards with shock. "Sol! You're an adept!" he stammered.
The man turned to run, but he was stopped when the farmer dug his sickle into the man's back. With a sadistic grin on his face, he pulled the sickle, and the man, back over to him. "Now I can't have you running off and telling everyone my little secret." He ripped the blade out of the man and let the body fall to the soil.
Rachel covered her mouth to silence herself. She quietly slid back down to the bottom of the trench and waited for the man to leave. Her instinct told her to run, far away. But part of her wanted to stay here in the muddy ditch with her dying mother. She had to protect her; that man, that murderer, was on the loose. "I won't leave your side," she whispered as she looked down at her mother. "I promise."
The sound of movement above her startled her and she let out a scream as she saw the farmer staring down at her. "Well what do we have here?" he sneered. "Looks like I found a rat sneaking around in my irrigation ditches! I might have to do myself a little extermination." Rachel's legs were frozen with fear. Run and leave her mother? Or stay and die along with her. The sharp edge of the sickle glistened in the sun as the farmer prepared to jump down and strike.
The next moment seemed like a blur. He leapt down, blade poised to strike. She knew it was the end and she tightly shut her eyes and waited patiently for her inevitable death. But a powerful gust of wind blew the man back and struck him against the wall. His sickle found the back of his head and he slumped over, blood trickling down his neck. When she opened her eyes, she realized the two truths that had been revealed. One: she was a murderer now. Two: she was an adept.
"Oh mother," she gasped as she knelt down. She took her hand in order to feel that sense of security, but she felt nothing but cold skin. "Mother?" She placed a hand on her neck and felt for the jugular. But there was no pulse, no sign of life. The tears began to stream down her face. "No…no, this can't be! I can't be left all alone!"
They found the three bodies near the ditch later that day. Rumors and fear spread throughout Daila of a terrible man. A cold-blooded killer with dark eyes and a sick sense of humor. Of course, he was an adept. And he was automatically blamed for the drought as well.
"We will find this killer and make him pay!" the mayor bellowed at the town meeting.
The village elders nodded in agreement with the mayor's plan. But there was one thing that raised suspicion among them: Rachel. Where was she in all of this? Her mother was found dead in the ditch along with the other two men. Her footprints could be seen in the mud but the owner of the prints was nowhere to be found. They presented this dilemma to the mayor.
"He might have kidnapped her…" he mused. "Poor child, now we really have a reason to find this killer! Everyone spread out and comb the area!"
From within the alabaster jar, she could hear the men of the town running through the streets. Looking for the killer, who was her. She would never have the courage to show her face again if she came out of that jar. But the pungent smell of the herbs was almost too much for her to handle.
"Here, I'll just get it myself," the muffled voice of a man said outside. Rachel panicked as the lid was slowly removed and light poured into the jar. "What's this?" he asked as he drew his head back in surprise. "Playing hide-and-go-seek?"
"Please don't tell anyone I'm here!" she hissed. "This isn't a game!"
"Well, I can do that. But first you have to give me the herb that I bought," he said as he held out his hand. She nodded as she reached down and handed him one of the pungent leaves. He gave her a wink as he placed the lid back on the jar. She knew that she would have to find a better hiding place.
After what seemed like hours of waiting in silence, she stood up and slowly lifted the lid just enough she could peer out. A crowd had gathered in the center of town. Darkness had fallen and the area was illuminated by torch and lamplight. Something had happened and had drawn away the apocothery, giving Rachel a chance to escape. Taking care to be as quiet as possible, she climbed up out of the tall, narrow jar.
"Kill him! He's the one who killed those three people!" she heard someone shout. A combination of guilt and curiosity impelled her to approach the crowd. "He's hiding Rachel somewhere! Or maybe he's already done to her what he's done to the others!"
"I just arrived in town earlier this morning! I wasn't even aware of anything," a familiar voice pleaded.
"You idiot," one of them laughed. "That's not much of a plea! If anything, that makes you even more guilty than you were before!"
"And you're an adept, aren't you?"
No response came from the man. "You can't even say anything in your own defense, can you?" He still remained silent. "Then I guess that means you're guilty."
Rachel elbowed her way through the awe-struck crowd. She found her way between the accused and the accuser. "He has nothing to do with any of this!" She swallowed hard before realizing what she was getting herself into. "I'm the one you want!" Whispers and gasps could be heard spreading though the crowd. "I'm an adept! But I didn't kill those people!"
"Is this true, Rachel?" one woman asked, a stern expression on her face.
"The two men killed each other and my mother died on her own. I didn't do anything…" She could see anger, fear, and resentment burning in the eyes of her neighbors. Hands tightened around pitchforks and machetes.
"So, it was you who brought all of this misfortune upon us! You're the adept that's been in our midst, bringing all the bad luck upon us!" an old man shouted as he waved his torch for emphasis. "You're the one who should be killed!" The crowd began shouted and screaming as they moved in closer to the girl.
She felt a hand on her shoulder. The man who had been accused was looking down on her and smiling. "Don't be afraid. I'm going to help you," he whispered as he showed her a glimpse of a blue stone. "Give me your hand." She did as she told and placed her small hand into his large, calloused palm. "Teleport!" he shouted as he held the stone up high. A bright light washed over them and when it faded, they had disappeared.
The people of Daila were growing weary of the constant visitors. So it was only natural that Jacob received cold glares and sarcastic comments as he sauntered into town. He had no idea of the trouble that had fallen upon the northern town.
"Rachel? Why do you want to know about that little wench?" a man laughed at the young man when questioned.
"She's my sister and I brought her and my mother some food. Can you please tell me where they are?" he pleaded.
"Sure I can. Your mother's dead; Rachel killed her and two other men," he replied. He said this calmly, as if it were no big deal.
"What?" he gasped. "What do you mean Rachel killed them?"
"She's an adept and she used her strange powers to kill them. She skipped town with another one of 'her kind'." He looked over Jacob carefully. His dark brown, curly hair had already accumulated flecks of red dust, which Jacob batted away. His skin had grown tanner and he had grown taller and thinner. "You said you were her brother?" He had her blue eyes.
"Yes. Why do you…" The man pulled out his machete and struck it through Jacob's abdomen. He let out a whimper as he dropped the loaf of bread he had been holding.
"You need to start looking out for your little sister," he growled. "Looks like you're going to have to pay for her crimes." He pulled the blade out and watched as Jacob staggered over to a barrel. His eyes were beginning to glaze over as he fell to his knees and crumpled over. The last image that came to his mind was Romulus. He was staring at him with his striking green eyes. They burned through him and pained him more than his wound. But soon, he felt no pain, only the man's cold, green eyes.
Shadow: Yea, the rating's definitely going to go up after that scene. :uneasy laugh:
Spark: Your sick and twisted writing style's coming through…
Shadow: Well, when you're being forced against your own will to do history homework over the summer, you begin to have sick and twisted thoughts.
Spark: Whatever, please review! We'd really like some feedback.