The end of this chapter has been described as graphic and horrific in terms of the violence it entails. The material was written by a fifteen year old, therefore, will not be regarded as too mature for young teenagers, but may not be suitable for those under the age of thirteen.

A Trip to Nerante

By Amasal Elevio

Fenix Harbor

Being raised in a major port, I was immune to the ocean's sways and waves. He then asked me of my training. I was taught by Miss Virnima, but the students called her Meph, her nickname. She was a small, thin woman with compassionate blue eyes and a warm smile. She wore her dark hair up, out of her eyes. Miss Virnima claimed it bugged her and hindered her casting.

I can relate to that, Aresia thought. Her hair was kept in a clip up and out of her face.

Normally, when we were on task, she was the nicest woman you'd ever meet, but when we would misbehave, her rage was not something you'd soon forget.

This earned me a smile from the pink robed stranger as he told his own tale. He was from Vineer, a small town in an elven area known as Greybark Woods. The elves despised magic and he had to sneak away to be tutored by an elderly Archmage in a shack by the mountains. He claimed him to be senile, but brilliant. The man would trip over his own robes, blame a chair, and with a word, reduce it to ashes.

I had asked why he decided to take his path in magic since he was raised in such a warrior-dominant area. Gargrof explained how a traveler came by his parent's armory and, while waiting for his father to repair a boot, he told the young Gargrof wild tales of people of immense knowledge and power that had no one stand in their way left they be turned to dust or, when the mage was feeling merciful, a wandering sheep.

Aresia laughed, remembering that one experience with Axel and several others involving small animals. One time, she crouched in the bushes, watching an old farmer about to take his sheers to a sheep to have it turn into a squirrel with a puff of smoke and run up a tree. The poor fellow almost had a heart attack. Smiling at memories of her own apprenticeship, she read on.

"Once I had my heart set on something," he always said, "I'd never back out on it."

I respected him for that, and his perseverance. It couldn't have been easy sneaking around those pointy-eared watchmen. As the trip continued, we decided to travel together. Since each of us was a drifting leaf, it might as well be a pair.

As we arrived in Fenix Harbor, we disembarked and asked the townsfolk if there was an academy. Both of us proudly dressed as mages, though I was in Gargrof's strange green and yellow robes, which resembled leaves. We were regarded with cold stares and shoulders. When we walked into the square, it fell silent. A few hushed whispers and some points followed us as we exchanged nervous glances. Suddenly, a bell sounded from the hall and out filed several plate wearing soldiers. The crowds backed away as they surrounded us.

"Sirs! If you would kindly state you business," one guard shouted, sword drawn, shield in place.

"We are merely searching for an academy to train in our ways and –" Gargrof tried to say.

The guard cut him off. "There is none of your kind here, be on your way!"

He tried again. "Well then, perhaps you could point us in the –"

"You are not welcome! You must leave at once!" he screamed at Gargrof, who sighed. I told him it wasn't worth it and he agreed. We started towards the exit, or so we thought, when we were stopped by a merchant holding a shotgun. Halting, I held up my hands and advised Gargrof to do the same. The guards again were in formation around us. The merchant yelled in fear at our raised hands, turned, and ran into his shop, locking the doors and closing the shutters.

The guard addressed us again. "You raise your hands to our civilians!"

"I did no such thing. He came up to us with a gun and did what any other sane person would do," he tried to explain. I kept quiet, knowing it would not help.

"He did too!" cried a woman, holding a basket on one arm, the other pointed at us, "And I saw the other one mutter something!"

At this, everyone started to yell, saying we did so many things.

"I saw him reach for a wand!"

"I bet he hexed that poor man!"

The guards arrested us and put us in irons. We were brought to the keep with the townsfolk following, screaming for justice.

"They are witches! Put them to death!"

"Burn them!"

"Show them what we think of them magicking in our town!"

"They bring riot! Punish them!"

It aggravated me how stupid these people were, but I didn't dare open my mouth to retort. I was anxious. If these people believed us to be witches, the gods only know what would happen to us. When they sat us on a bench to alert the magistrate, they left five well armed men with us. I looked at Gargrof gravely, who was disheartened, he looked lost.

"What are we going to do?" he asked me.

"No talking!" a guard barked, causing me to flinch.

This wasn't just in any sense of the word. I should've stayed home in Danamore, with the wise Sierra Infeld watching over us. She respected mages; these people would like to see us hanging from the noose. I shook my head and prayed silently. I prayed for wisdom for their leader, for hope that he was not blind.

Then, a guard appeared from the doorway and motioned for us to enter. Another jerked me up to my feet by the arm and led me along. We entered a large room with a window lighting it from behind a large desk. A young, handsome man was seated behind it. He rose as we came in. An officer walked with him over to us.

"This is Magistrate Teris," he said, and the magistrate looked at us with narrowed eyes.

"So, you think you can enter my tranquil town and jinx my personal tailor," he snapped, "And then turn to assault one of my –"

"We did nothing wrong!" I called at last in our defense, "All we did was ask if there was an –"

"How dare you interrupt me, witch!" he spat before striking me in the face, splitting my lip, which bled down my chin and dripped to the floor. I looked down as there was laughter at my misfortune.

"I'm half surprised it wasn't blue!" someone had said.

I didn't look at the proud young magistrate, who I knew would be smiling at pelting a restrained mage.

"As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted," he started, the guards silenced, "There are witnesses of their actions, I assume?"

"Yes, sir. I would not have made the arrest unless I had not seen it myself," the guard said, describing his story, "We had calmly explained that they were not welcome, but they refused to leave, saying they wished to start an academy of some sorts," Oh, how they twist our words! "Then, again, I told them to leave. Then, they approached Thompson, this one," he pointed at me, "muttered something and raised his hands, which caused Thompson to flee into is home. It is our belief that he was cursed in some way."

"Is it your belief that these men are witches?" Teris asked.

The guard nodded, stating, "It is also my belief that they are a danger to our society. Their presence disrupts the thin fabric of the peace. The people were all frozen in fear."

"That is because you teach them to be. They are brainwashed by your government! Do you not see? There is no reason to fear us, we are not feral animals. We mean no harm," Gargrof interjected, I finally looked up to see Teris going red in the face.

He exploded, "I do what's best for my people! Not feral, my heel. You magicked a man who was merely attempting to be friendly. You are a menace to the world and all good people."

Gargrof argued loudly, "Approaching us with a gun is hardly friendly!"

A cold laugh came from the magistrate. "Thompson doesn't own a gun. Why don't you tell some more lies and take more on to your case? The scribe is writing over there, recording every false syllable you spout! Enough, I grow tired of this. Get them out of my sight and clean up this blood. Who knows what's in it," he ordered, before turning to his head guard. I barely caught what he said as I was lead from the room.

"Let it be known, that at noon tomorrow, the witches have an appointment at the gallows."

My heart sank into despair and I walked with my shoulders slumped. We were brought down to a cool stone basement, in it, one jail cell. The one holding my shackled arm opened the door and threw me to the hard ground. The cut on my lip reopened. Gargrof followed soon after. I sat myself up and leaned against the wall.

"Amasal," he murmured sadly, "Why us?"

"I don't know," I replied, I felt my eyes sting as they filled with tears, "I really don't."

Why is this so unfair? I asked myself. I had done nothing other than wear robes. These people in Fenix Harbor, they are weak and frightened, afraid to accept the unknown. Why do they reject us so? I know in my heart that there will come a day that mages will be welcomed. Though, I had thought, I would never see that day. I would never see my family again and they would never know what happened to me. I would die without a name.

"Amasal?" he said again.

I looked to him. "Yes?"

"I'm sorry you didn't get to see the world," he told me softly.

I gave a short, joyless laugh. "I'm sorry you didn't get to become the greatest mage on Eleith."

We sat in silence for some time. I thought about my mother, how she was probably cooking for my little sister, how she was going to grow up into this corrupted world. Little Myria, with her wavy brown hair, just like mine, but longer, down to her waist. How she'd wear overalls and catch frogs in the pond with the boys. How Mother would scold her for getting her shoes muddy. She'd be turning eight soon. I promised that I would send her something from a far off kingdom, making her smile with a few of her teeth missing and hug me. At the memory, a tear ran down my cheek and mixed with the blood from my lip, which had stained my borrowed robes.

Aresia too, felt a tear threaten to fall and her heart started to ache as she thought of her own family. She hadn't seen any of them, or heard anything, in years. Closing her eyes, she envisioned her father in his uniform. He had been part of the town's garrison. He wore chainmail, a dark shirt, and a scabbard at his belt. Her father would always tell her that she got all her mother's beauty, but she would remind him that she had the same light blue eyes.

Their last conversation wasn't a pleasant one. He had been upset with her for being outside on her own during the war. She had told him she was in no danger with the battle so far away. He had shouted at her, his words stung.

"You stay in here you little wretch, or God help you when I find you!"

That night, when her dad was on patrol, she had snuck out the window.

She saw her father and she hid behind a tree. He and another watchman were chatting amongst themselves as a fog settled into the valley where their little town was nestled within the mountains. The fog was cold and she was shivered in her coat. Her father and his companion, Aresia had recognized as Phillips, stopped. She could see her breath while she crouched in a bush. His eyes wandered to her hiding place and then away. He did not see her. Aresia laughed behind her hand, but it was cut short as a man had jumped from the fog and landed on her father. Aresia had gasped when she saw that the man was not truly a man, but something else.

He lacked eyes, his skin was rotting, and he reeked like a corpse. There was no flesh at his elbows or knees; she could see the white of bone against the black night. It was then that she realized the rumors of the plagued soldiers that could not die were true. She was paralyzed, eyes fixed upon the scene, filled with fear, as the man pulled out two daggers.

Phillips had run to get help, she had thought then, but now knew that it was for his own life.

Her father screamed for help and tried to push the monster off of him. He slashed at its arm and gut before it took a dagger and stabbed his sword arm. He then removed the dagger from his upper arm and dug it into the center of his forearm. Her father's cry rang in her ears and she covered them, but she could still hear it.

The undead man's mouth was twisted up in delight as he dragged the knife down his arm, right down the middle, down to the wrist, and through the hand, which had dropped the sword. The dagger finally exited her father in between his third and fourth fingers. He gasped for air and groaned as blood flowed from his arm, creating streams in the cobblestone path. The monster watched his life drain from him as the alarm bell sounded. Taking two fingers in each hand, the undead pulled his arm in half as he screamed in agony, blood splashing on his face, the sounds of bones cracking in the air accompanied by its laughter. A deep, murderous cackle erupted from him as he cruelly twisted the halves of the arm around then snapped each off. The screams came to a stop and were replaced by ragged breathing. The creature again took his daggers, which gleamed red in the light of Aresia's father's dropped lantern, and plunged them into her father's chest. He shuddered, blood leaking from his lips as he let out a soft moan and his breathing grew softer and softer, ending in a final sigh.

Aresia let out a sob, tears streaming down her face. She pulled down her hood and held her face in her hands. A few stray tears tell on the book's pages. She missed her father so much. If only she had helped, she thought miserably. Maybe if he hadn't been so angry with her that night, he wouldn't have taken the shift. The image of her father's body burned in her mind as she hiccupped and her nose ran. She wiped her face with the sleeve of her robes and sniffed as more tears fell. Aresia closed the book and place it on the end table then cried into her pillows. She wept for her father and for herself. When her sobs quieted and her breathing evened, she fell into a peaceful slumber.

End of Chapter I