One—Kirian
Kirian's heart stayed behind even as his feet moved forward. His heart ached to leave his sister behind in the forests of DuWeldenvarden—or rather, his chest throbbed where his heart should have been. He wasn't so sure anymore if he even had one to begin with, leaving his sister to the fate of the elves without a second thought. I shouldn't have left her, he thought miserably.
Despite his sorrow and his self-loathing, his feet continued moving forward, each accursed step as though of their own accord. Perhaps I do have a heart, he thought wretchedly. A heart for my spirit, but I have no soul for my body. An elf—man—needed both, did he not? Philosophizing didn't make him feel any better, didn't release the heavy band restricting around his chest. As he trudged ahead through the forest, the ancient trees began to give way to young, limber ones, signaling that he was nearing the fringes of the human world.
Kirian stared at his toes as he walked, mesmerized at his own betrayal. He feared that if he raised his eyes, even the trees would point their accusations at him, breaking their melancholy, trance-like silence. Instead, he stepped around the bushes when they appeared before him. The sweetly soft forest carpet of old pine needles gave way to the prickly jaggers of bushes, weeds, and thorn hedges, marking the flimsy barrier from his old world of magic to the new one among the humans. Still, he never took his eyes off his feet, even as he felt the magic fading away behind him. Though his mind was set and his choice made, he still could not bear to look at the forest around him, the home he was leaving—and the sister he was abandoning. He swallowed a sob and blinked away threatening tears at the last thought, trudging dismally ahead.
Gradually, the land flattened into a sea of wispy, straggly tufts of grass. Finally glancing up, Kirian almost gasped. His dark eyes took in the wide, open expanse of the humans' land, the golden sunset spreading its orange and red wings like a giant dragon across the vast sky. Never in all his life had he seen such a vast, wide open space. He forced away the fear that suddenly threatened to choke and overwhelm him. The trees had always had a calming, protecting presence surrounding him in the forests of his childhood. As he gazed across at the sky, fascination replaced his fear. He had finally seen where the sky met the earth. In the forests, such a thing could not easily be seen—the thought left him rubbing his neck, a faint memory of a fall from a tall tree flitting through his mind. Had not the trees bent their bows to break his fall, he may not have been alive to see the sun setting in the far off sky.
I have found where the sky meets the earth, he thought comically—or is it poetically? he wondered. I will tell Aine when we next meet again, ten years hence. The thought heartened him, his sister's face coming to mind. She would enjoy hearing his first, silly impressions of the world outside their own, he was sure.
On impulse, he decided to make his camp there, to sit and watch the sunset and lie out under the open stars. Taking a deep breath, he inhaled the heady scent of far-off wheat fields mingling with the scent of the pines of the forest behind him.
Gathering kindle wood from the fringes of the forest, Kirian lit a small fire murmuring the words of magic in the Ancient Language. As the sun melted into a graying purple, Kirian sat beside the fire and murmured the magical words that would alter his appearance. He wished that he had a looking glass, but his vanity would have to go without one. As he uttered the words in the Ancient Language, he felt the change in his face—his muscles quivering and his skin tightening and tingling as they knit themselves into an altered shape.
When he was finished, he traced his fingers over his face and along the edges of his ears. He gasped as he felt the foreign curve. He instantly noticed a slight reduction in his hearing, but it was not enough of a difference to worry over. He felt the wider curve of his jaw, a dark stubble now faintly beginning to grow. His nose was still the same—strong yet elegant in shape. His lips were the same as before too—less full than an elf's yet lush enough to make any woman's knees quiver when he smiled—well, that he had yet to find out for certain, but he thought they probably might. His dark eyes slanted less and made them appear even darker in the shadow cast from his brow, giving him a moody, dangerous appearance. He noticed too that his forehead was a little broader, and overall, Kirian felt satisfied with the results, though he could not see himself as he now was.
As the sky mellowed into a darkening purple, a chill breeze swept over him, buffeting his thin, delicately woven clothes and tossing his hair in the air. Suddenly, he remembered his dark, long locks. Human males never wore their hair in quite so long a style, he remembered, thinking of his father.
Pulling his hunting knife from its sheath at his waist, he held his dark locks in his hands and sliced it off just above his shoulders, hoping that it was the proper length for a human male. Fingering the cut hair, he thought of his mother and her dark hair. She had named him Kirian because he had her night black hair and the dark, dark eyes of his father—and because Kirian meant 'child of a dark place.' He absently wondered if his name hadn't had a double meaning. He had been born of life and light, but being a half breed meant dark times must surely lie ahead for him.
Shaking his head, he pushed those thoughts away. He was a man now. No half breeds allowed in this world, so he would become a man. He would live among them and belong. He had to. Because it was the way of the world, the way of survival.
Kirian lay on his back and watched the stars twinkle awake in the black sky. He wasn't sure where he would go, what he would do, who he would meet—friend or foe—but there beneath the star-filled sky, he wasn't worried. What could be so bad in a world full of such beauty? Even as he thought it, he knew of his naivety, but on a night such as this, he could not help but dream and be hopeful.
Ice. Wind. Screams.
Kirian jumped awake, a bone-deep chill shaking his core. Squinting through the rain, he could see nothing further than a few feet ahead, the rain so heavy. The world was a slanted line, water falling in torrents to the over-soaked ground. The wind howled over the lonely prairies, raising the hairs on the back of Kirian's neck. Thunder rumbled across the night sky, and far away lightening crackled to the ground. He felt caught in an endless nightmare.
Leaping to his feet, he stumbled as he collected his few belongings together, able to see only by his heighten elvin sight and the split second cracks of lightning. Never before had he been beneath such an angry storm. In the forest, the trees had sheltered him; now, in the wide open prairies, there were no sheltering branches, no friends to lend their help.
Sprinting through the angry rain, he slipped and fell in the mud. Soaked and frozen, he pushed on through the storm, stumbling and falling often. Unable to see, he walked blindly ahead, crawling on hands and knees when he fell. At last, his hands brushed a solid wood surface. Circling it, he searched with his hands for an opening into the small shelter. At last, grasping a handle, he shoved open the heavy wooden door, slamming it shut against the wind behind him.
Taking a shuddering breath, he collapsed with weary limbs into a pile of sweet smelling hay. With no light, he could just only make out the shapes of stalls in the far corner and tools hanging along the far wall. Unsavory smells alerted him to the presence of animals.
Too weary to keep his eyes open, Kirian rolled into a shivering ball and fell fast asleep, safe and sound out of the pounding rains and howling winds.
When early morning finally came, Kirian still lay in an exhausted sleep upon the hay. He heard the singing of the birds, the stirring of the animals, and the crow of the rooster, but still he could not cause himself to rouse. Even as sunlight filtered into the small barn, he could only lay and smile as the sun warmed his still chill body. Not even the sharp creak of the barn door alerted him to danger.
"Get out of my barn, you filthy heathen!" a dark voice boomed. A heavy fist came down on his back. Kirian started fully awake as he was thrown into the air, landing hard on his back. Over him stood a burly man with fists the size of a sledgehammers and a murderous scowl on his face. "What makes you think you can steal my food and sleep in my barn, eh?" the angry man thundered, his fist raised high in the air to strike.