Midori stormed back to her bedchambers, closed her door, surprisingly softly, and locked it. She dropped the key from shaking fingers and as it fell with a clatter, she sank to her knees letting her mask fall and tears wet her cheeks. She didn't know why she was crying or even why she had felt angry.
Rocking back and forth on her heels she looked to the large mirror that leaned against the wall: Her face paint was running and her eyes were streaming, her hair was coming loose from the pins that held it in place and now fell in tendrils around her face. She took out her hair ornaments and held them in her open hand.
"Why did I want this life?" She asked herself, staring at the chopsticks. "Why did Mother die?"
Midori stared out the window, at the freezing rain that pounded at the pane. Then she gazed at the shukusen that sat on the windowsill. "I chose this life because I wanted it, not because anyone force me to." She answered, her voice quiet.
Midori quickly wiped her eyes and blew her nose on a handkerchief as a knock sounded at the door. "Go away!" she shouted.
"Midori, it's Kel, could I come in?"
"No!" she replied.
"At least tell me what's wrong." Prompted the lady knight.
Midori unlocked and opened her door to reluctantly admit Kel, Yamani mask showing no emotion.
Kel shook her head sadly and wrapped Midori in a tight hug, knowing how hard it was to accept that the girl was motherless. "Kalen told me what happened with Jarvis, he sounds just like his uncle, and he should have never said that, I'm sorry for letting you train and having to put up with this"
"No, Kel, it's fine, I can deal with it." Midori whispered.
Kel could tell by her tone that she didn't mean it, but let the answer pass. The lady knight then squeezed her shoulders in reassurance and led Midori to the privy where she washed the face paint and lips rouge from her face as if Midori were a child.
The young squire then smiled as her anger lessened and disappeared. "Thanks" she whispered.
Nodding, Kel quickly left Midori to rest. But Midori didn't sleep; she crept down to the library and decided to do a little research.
She selected a few books and hurried back to her room, closing the door behind her. She lit a few candles and sat at her desk; opening the first book she began to scan the paragraph until she found what she had been looking for:
"…The Chamber of Ordeal is a great room filled with not magic but a being of its own accord…many have passed the infamous Ordeal and became legends like the late Sylvia of Northwatch, and Lady Alanna the Lioness and the most recent, Keladry of Mindelan, Protector of the Small, since then, more girls have been willing to train as knights to service the Crown…but also some have been killed by the Ordeal, like Joren of Stone Mountain…no one knows what killed them…but their deaths show that this being in the room can kill…The Chamber shows your fears and regrets and intensifies them, not to scare young squires, but to toughen them…"
"So the Chamber can kill," whispered Midori suddenly feeling the weight of mortality. She could die in the Ordeal and never achieve her dream.
Midori closed the book and selected another, one about the Bloody Hawk in the Southern Desert. She skimmed the paragraphs until she came to one that caught her attention:
"…Lady Alanna was adopted into this tribe along with the late Myles of Olau, her adoptive father, and was the tribe's shaman, teaching three others…The tribe has thrived since King Jonathan III had become the Voice of the Tribe…he has recruited many into the services of the Own and as knights of the Crown…Just fifteen years ago the tribe's eldest shaman passed into the Peaceful Realms, leaving behind an infant son in the care of her sister…The boy then at ten left for the city of Corus in Tortall, to train as a knight of the realm…"
There she paused in her reading and contemplated over her findings. So Kalen must've been that infant son, or it could have been Kalen's father that had trained as a knight?
Midori decided she would think about what she read at a later time and instead decided to read a poem or two before retiring to bed.
She pulled a book from under a stack on her desk and opened it to the first poem, not a Yamani poem, but one that spoke of a young girl's dream:
DreamsPlaying games by the old oak, of a knight in shining armour and damsels oh so distressed
Falling down in the autumn's leaves, tired and wanting to rest
I dream of riding down the hills, sun to my back and wind at my face
I imagine I'm dancing in a dress of fine silk and lace
Dancing in the black of night
Twirling with the moonlight
I think of my bravery, my fame
And how I brought glory to my family name
I pause for a moment in the winter frost
And wonder about the people whose lives have been lost
I wake up to the sounds of birds at my window
And think of my dream, of all the things it wanted me to know
Of all the triumphs and plights
That makes me think of distant times, of long- dead knights
I suppose I should stick to reading
Never could stick to leading
I suppose wielding knowledge is wise
I couldn't pretend to be a boy, they'd find out my disguise
The autumn leaves fall and my mind remembers
How I'd sit by the fire and read by the embers
Study tales I could never live
Read about a life I could never give
I suppose wielding a shield and blade could be a foolish thing to hope for
That books and knowledge are better then tales of folklore
But I think now as I sit here by the soft candlelight
I remember those dreams I had, and begin to write
Hoping that what I wrote will inspire others to see my dream as I had
And not abandon it like I, but pursue the dream of knighthood even if you are not a young lad
Listen to the voice of your mind and use your head
It may lead you down the trail never tread…
Midori yawned widely and placed her book down on the bed, her heart feeling light, she blew out the candles, and climbed under the sheets of her bed, the verses of the poem playing in her head. She had felt the poem speak to her in a deep personal way and hoped what the writer had said about dreams was true.
For she was walking down a path many had taken, yet she felt as if she was walking alone.
In the Chamber she would be alone, where anything could happen.
She could die.
She could survive.
But if she died she would know she would have loved and had been loved.
And that notion hurt her more then any wound, it made her feel the heavy weight of loss and a fear for her mortal life.
Midori realized, in that one moment of thought what her fears truly were, she was afraid of abuse and rape, of being alone, afraid of drowning and afraid of a broken heart.
But above all that common fear was a greater horror that even outlasted her lifelong fear of loneliness.
Midori of Queenscove was afraid to die.
Poem AnimalWriter1, 2006