A/N: Yay! I got my five reviews! Muffins for everyone! Ok, as for names, I have changed Keilantra to December, Jerrold to Elijah, and Dimitri to Dimitri. Hooray! I love all my reviewers!! I love you!! Mwa!! Please don't stop reviewing!
Luv, Izzy
3. The Truth is Sharper than a Knife
"Let's see… 'The subsequent invite is in favor of Prince Elijah Alrond, heir to the throne, son of King Earl Alrond of Endelia, honoring the King's decision for the Prince to wed,'" Elijah winced at the choice of words, leaning back on the backboard of his giant bed.
"'Your presence is requested… every unmarried young maiden… by order of the king… a formal event… proper dress is compulsory… a racial variety… The preceding invitation is for…'" Elijah scanned the invitation printed on fancy paper. "'Lord Geoffrey Wilder and household.'" He slipped the invitation into an envelope and wrote the name on that. It was placed on the tall stack of invites to be sent to those living in Klorith.
"Aaron, don't touch that!" Elijah jumped up and snatched the boy's hands away from the flaming fireplace.
"Thattu! Sai blise mami!" The boy turned his back and ran to another corner of the room.
"You're welcome," Elijah muttered sarcastically. "No!" He ran to snatch a glass crown out of his hands. "That was my grandmama's! Don't touch!" He put it out of his reach.
Aaron began to whimper. Elijah sighed and ran his hand over his face "Aaron, I didn't mean that."
"Da le mu sai mami!" Aaron yelled and ran to Elijah's bed to hide himself under the covers.
"Aaron, I know you miss your mami, but she's probably dead, alright?" He continued, gritting his teeth. "And I'm doing you a favor by taking care of you. It's not easy."
"Thattu," a muffled voice said from beneath the covers. Elijah sighed.
"I know what you need. Some chocolate. Shipments of it are beginning to come in from overseas, you know."
Aaron's head peered out from under the duvet. "Chocilatt?" He crawled out and looked inquiringly at Elijah.
"Oh! Yes! Chocilatt!" Elijah assured the boy.
"Chocilatt! Chocilatt!" Aaron jumped up and down and clapped his hands, making Elijah smile. Elijah picked him up and put him in his large, cushioned chair next to the glass table.
"Wait here,' he commanded, turning to leave the room. He ran the length to the royal kitchen and commanded the cook breathlessly. "Give me chocolate, now." The cook nodded, ran into the pantry, and brought back a box filled with chocolates.
Elijah took them and started to run off again. "Son!" The king's voice stopped him in his tracks. "Where are you going with those chocolates?" He approached him.
"To my room," Elijah muttered impatiently.
"Elijah, they just came in from Trestra. They are for the guests on the night of the ball."
"But I need them," Elijah argued.
"Elijah, you can't—"
"I'll buy a replacement box, father. Promise," he said, running off again. He made it to his room and slammed the door. Not to his surprise, Aaron wasn't where he had left him, and the curtains were strewn across the floor, with a large lump underneath them.
"Aaron, come out. You're worse than a dog," he lifted the curtains, but saw the lump was actually his pillow. "Aaron? Where are you?" He scanned the room. "I brought chocilatt!" There wasn't a sign of him. He checked in his closet, and under the bed. What if he had left the room? He would be captured by the guards and killed! Elijah turned to run out the door, but the dresser suddenly creaked and sighed. Elijah opened the bottom drawer, seeing Aaron asleep amongst his undergarments, his grandmother's crown clutched tightly in one hand.
Elijah gently pried it out of his hand and placed it back on top of the dresser. "Aaron," Elijah shook his shoulder gently. "Want chocilatt?"
"Chocilatt!" Aaron squealed, sitting straight up, hitting his head on the drawer above. "Ordu," he muttered as he rubbed his head.
"Ouch," Elijah agreed, pulling him out of the drawer and placing him on the chair. He placed the box on his lap and returned to his bed, to write out the rest of the invitations.
"I think Klorith, Iyunthra, Rivatown, Rasendron, Trakaseth, Torron, and Hitatrey are done. Now how about that tiny town of Ceitha?"
o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o
"You mean she just summoned me? Like a servant?"
"No. She said she needed you. She said it was an emergency."
"Did she say what it was?"
"No. But she said you need to hurry," Ember admired Darren—he was a Hitatreyon; they had the same color skin as elves. He was a handsome young man. Talented, as well. He could speak Endelian, Hitatreyon and Iyunthraean.
He thought awhile, biting his lip. "Come with me," he led the way to his stables. Ember followed. He brought out a beautiful white horse. "Ready?" She nodded. He mounted himself onto the horse, and then she mounted behind him, gripping his waist. "What are you doing?"
"I have a confession—I'm not very good at riding."
"No kidding. What about your horse?"
"She'll follow. Won't you, Cinnamon?" she called out the horse and the horse started her way. "See?"
"Alright. Hold on." He spurred his horse to a gallop.
o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o
"Gwen! Where are you?" Darren slammed the door open and ran up the stairs. December, leaving them to their affairs, ran out to fetch the bale of hay Bobby had needed.
It was heavy. She gripped the rope tying it up and pulled it off the stack. Then she began to drag it across the snowy field.
"Need help?" Farmer Johns asked, stepping out of the gardening shed.
"No," December smiled at him. "No, I think I got it."
"Alright," he rubbed his beard. "Then when you get over there, could you please bring me one of those blankets? My horse is dying of cold."
Ember rolled her eyes, but turned back to him smiling, and agreed.
"Here, Bobby," she dragged the hay bale into the stable, shaking the snow off her head and shoulders, and stomping out her boots.
Bobby swung around from feeding one of the horses an apple. "Oh, thank you, Ember. Thank you so much."
She took a deep breath. "Jiikara."
"I like it when you speak Elvish, December." She took a blanket off of the shelf, smiled at Bobby, and then left, running across the snowy field. She handed the blanket to Farmer Johns when she reached the shed and, without a word, ran back into the manor.
Darren suddenly pushed past her, stomping angrily out the door. Gwenevere followed him, squealing, "Darren, no! Please come back!"
December shook her head, confused, and went into the kitchen for something to eat. Terri was there, preparing lunch. When she saw December, she rushed over to her. "Dear, I'm out of eggs. Fetch some from Farmer Johns, will you?" Ember groaned and left the kitchen.
The day continued that way, one errand added before the last one was even completed. When she found some free time that evening, she ran upstairs and up the ladder into the servants' quarters and to her mat before anyone could send her to do something else. She felt the urge to make herself look reasonably nice this night. She had only two dresses, and the other one was being washed, so she quickly dusted the one she was wearing.
She took of her dirty apron, riddled with the day's work. She scrubbed her face, and tried to brush her matted, dirty hair. It was near impossible, so she braided it, but found that her ears showed that way. She looked over to Farmer Johns' mat, where a neat gray beret lay. Sure that he wouldn't mind, she grabbed it and put it on her head, pulling it down so that it covered the top half of her ears.
December then pulled her most precious possession out from under her pillow, fingering it lovingly—it was a bow. Made expertly out of oak by the elves in her village, it had tiny designs of fairies dancing and twirling in the woods, embedded with several tiny emeralds and sapphires and rubies. Hair from a unicorn's tail was used for a string, strong and durable and sparkling in the light.
She smiled and traced the fairies' movements with her little fingernail. This had been her father's seventh birthday gift for her. She strapped it to her back. It was dangerous at night; she might have to use it.
o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o
Walking, stumbling, on her little feet, Ember crept through the eerie manor. Her heart was pounding her more and more awake, clueless of what would happen next. With each step, the stairs creaked mercilessly, as her eyes darted cautiously around her. She could sense something wrong. There was a stench in the air—musky, crisp—it stank of that beggar boy.
She felt like a mouse, creeping, hiding from its predator—the hawk. This time the hawk was the darkness, the silence. It had made December its prey. She wrapped her cloak more securely around herself, eyes wide, leaping at every hint of motion. She finally felt the firm floor at the bottom of the stairway and sighed, relieved.
She ran across the smooth, marble entrance toward the door. She turned the brass door handle ever so slowly. It clicked menacingly as she pushed the door open. It creaked, December wincing until the door was wide enough for her to squeeze through. She slowly pushed the door shut and leaned her forehead against it, eyes closed.
Only a fool would sneak around a manor old as this at night, let alone outside. She was not normally a person who kept her word, but this was a thing of such relevance—a boy, a beggar no less, had hurt her pride. She was absolutely certain he would hunt her down one way or another and devour her if she didn't show up.
Knowing she was among the impoverished of Endelia burned deep in her. It scorched whatever dignity she had left to know that she was inferior to them. Now she had let a beggar, of her own status or lower, walk on top of her, rubbing his dirty feet in her face.
She sighed. She had made it outside—relieved. She now had to make it to the marketplace, at night—annoyed, disappointed, scared. Her eyes fluttered open, still focused on the cold frame of the door, adjusting to the darkness. Her head turned around, slowly, and her body followed it. Above her, the moon had its eye fixed on her, suspicious of something, it wouldn't look away.
Don't tell, she pleaded. It still glared, flaunting its great radiance in her face, blanching her more. Fine. She began tramping through the snow, its breath violently icing her nose and hands. It had better be worth it to have to fight through this icy gale.
She reached the fate, but when her fingers touched the latch, she drew back suddenly. It was so cold! She feared her fingers would numb if she tried to open it. She knelt and her fingers nimbly undid the latch before she shoved her hands in her pockets, bouncing the gate open with her hip and sprinting out onto the dirt road.
The snow was getting thicker. It was up to her thighs now and she almost had to climb through the snow. Her eyes began to water and she put her head down, pushing against the wind, against the snow, toward her fate.
She hummed to herself, the small, sweet tune getting whisked away by the wind, getting tossed back and forth and toyed with, echoing, until it vanished completely. Then the wind whispered for more.
o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o
"Boy?" December whispered harshly. "Where are you?" She was numbed straight through her skin looking for this thief of whom she didn't even know his name. The tent by the bakery? Wasn't that what he had said? She couldn't take much more of the cold.
The snow she stood on was pulling her down the longer she stood. Creaking signposts squeaked at her and shadows reached out, trying to claw at her. She was sure she heard footsteps following her, chasing her. There it was—the bakery. The signpost creaked back and forth with the wind, a picture of a fresh loaf of bread painted on it. There was a small gap between it and the next store; a small gap big enough to set up a small tent. A soft light seemed to glow from that gap. She cautiously approached it.
A small fire was the source of the gentle glow. It sat in the center of the dirt, faintly lit. Behind it was a tent, stained and creased, fairly large—large enough to fit about three or four people comfortably.
"Boy?" she said softly. "I'm here." She looked around, but saw no one, heard nothing but the chilling wind. "Sorry I'm late." Still nothing. "Are you here?" She sighed with frustration and seated herself beside the fire, warming herself. She would have to start for home soon, after she had rested, since the boy wasn't where he said he'd be.
A loud snort suddenly startled her and she jumped up. "Who's there?" She breathed heavily, glancing around. The noise was from outside of the tent. She then heard a soft whinny and a large black horse emerged and lay next to the fire, keeping a wary eye on her.
"Chirdamt," she muttered, backing out slowly.
"I'm pretty sure you just swore there."December actually found herself relieved to hear the boy's voice as his head peered out of the tent. "You're only an hour or so late." December said nothing as he crawled out and seated himself beside her. "But that's alright."
December still said nothing, turning her head slightly in the opposite direction. The boy looked at her, waiting for her to say something. When she didn't, he spoke up. "I don't think I've introduced myself properly. Hi, my name is Dimitri." He pointed to his horse. "That's my horse, Rhonda." Still silence. He tried again. "I don't know if I've mentioned it, but hi, I'm Dimitri and that's my—"
"December," she finally spoke up. "My name is December. Ember, if you like."
His face lit up. "December? It's pretty."
"Thanks."
"So you're how old?"
She thought about it. "Fifteen since October. You?"
"Can't remember. Las time I counted I was…" he pondered, counting on his fingers. "Six."
December's eyes widened in amusement, revealing the dark crescents underneath them more clearly. "Can't you even remember your own birth date?"
He shook his head. "Never really had one. Mother would usually tell me when I was a year older."
"What happened to her?" December was about to regret asking, but he answered quickly.
"She died. Father too."
"Oh, I'm sorry," she hugged her knees to her chest. "My parents died too."
"Then where do you live?"
"I'm a slave," she shrugged. "I work for my food and board."
"Must be hard, eh?"
She looked around. "Probably not as hard as living out here."
"It's alright once you get used to it."
She looked at him, shivering. "I'm not used to it," she whispered.
"Would you like a blanket?" he looked amused.
"That would be nice."
"Hang on," he crawled inside the tent and came back out with a thick, linen blanket. "There you go," he wrapped it around her and sat down beside her. "Better?"
She smiled. "Yes."
"And is her highness hungry too?"
"A little."
He sighed, crawling back into the tent and coming out again with a box. "Leftovers," he muttered. He opened the box and drew out a piece of meat, handing it to her. She devoured it, glad to sink her teeth into something besides old bread and soup.
"You eat like a wolf," he observed.
She shrugged. "You have to where I come from."
"I thought you said you came from 'just here—in Ceitha.'"
"Exactly."
He laughed. December stopped eating to look at him. It felt good to make someone else laugh, to make them happy. She wanted to make him laugh again.
"You do know the real reason I eat like this?"
"Why?"
"To prevent mold."
It worked. He laughed again. "Are you saying that you serve moldy food where you're from?"
"No, but it will get moldy if you don't eat it."
He laughed again. December smiled. Then she looked up. "Clear sky tonight." Sparkling silver dots were splattered all over the winter night sky.
Dimitri looked up also to admire it with her. "Pretty."
"Yeah," December lay back, gazing at it. Dimitri lay back beside her.
"Can I have some of that blanket please, Ember?" He asked, looking over at her.
"Yeah, sure," she unwrapped some of it and handed it to him, not moving her gaze.
"Thanks," he wrapped it around him.
"How many do you think there are?" she asked.
"How many what?"
"Stars."
"Oh, right," he looked at them and pondered. "Twenty?"
"Twenty?" she looked at him amusedly, and then she looked back at the stars. "Did you ever think that stars are actually fairies that watch us during the night?"
"No," he looked at her in the same way that she had just looked at him.
She smiled. "Well, why do you think that they're as pretty as they are?"
"Simple. They're just little rocks that reflect off the pretty girls down here," he awaited her reaction, grinning.
"Really?" she giggled.
Dimitri pointed to a bright, shining star. "That one looks just like you."
She laughed. "I thought you said the pretty girls."
"I did." He sat up. "Want to play a game or something?"
"Sure," she sat up too. "What game?"
"Knucklebones," he pulled a handful of knucklebones out of his pocket.
"What's that?"
"You don't know what knucklebones are?"
She shook her head. "Never heard of them."
"You got to start somewhere," he muttered. The knucklebones were small, white objects, each one with a different weird shape. "I'll teach you." He took the handful and tossed it in the air, then caught them on the back of his hand. He tossed them in the air again, and caught them expertly in his palm. "See? You try." He handed them to her.
"Have you had much practice?" She threw them in the air and tried to catch them, but missed as they clattered onto the ground. She scooped them back up.
"Yes. It's a hobby," he took her hand and trembled at its iciness. "Try to hold your hand flat, like this." He stretched her hand out flat. "Now try."
She threw the knucklebones in the air again, and then caught three on the back of her hand.
"Better," he smiled. "And try not to throw them so high, so they don't spread."
"So are these real bones—knucklebones?" She tossed them in the air again, with a similar result.
"As in human? No. Against the king's law, except for slaves maybe, but who's that cruel?" he replied.
"So what are they?"
"Elf."
December dropped them instantly, withdrawing her hand. Those could've been her father's hands. She was toying with a part of the corpse of a fellow elf. "I have to go now," she got up and left the tent abruptly.
"Wait!" he got up and followed her. "Why? What's wrong? What happened?" He caught her arm and turned her around.
"You say that it is cruel to kill a slave for their bones, but what about the elves? Why is it not cruel for them?"
He looked stunned. "Well… it-it is, but… why should anyone care? Their ugly, vile creatures, like a dog, but with two feet and speech."
"Like a dog?! They're just like humans, like any other race!"
"No, they aren't! I hate them! They deserve death, all of them!"
"Thattu!" Tears stung in her eyes as she turned and ran away. He had mocked her race. He had mocked her. He called her a dog, an ugly creature. She kept running until she was at the edge of the marketplace, far away from him. She gasped for breath and brushed away her tears as she slowed to a stop.
The memory of the destruction of her beautiful village suddenly replayed in her mind, as it had frequently. She remembered everything as if it were just the day before.
"Elizabeth! Shir ol sai!" Asa called to his wife. The marble buildings crumbled on top of screaming elves. Human soldiers ran through the place, killing elves quickly and painlessly. Elf warriors brought out their weapons, but they were outnumbered, and were taken by surprise. Elves struggled to carry injured relatives to the Talra waterfall, which was already stained red. Her mother lay under a fallen willow tree, laylam handing around her bruised body. Blood oozed from a gash in her forehead.
"Shiya, jazenna," a hoarse voice mocked her, standing right above Elizabeth. Her vision was red, from the blood dripping into her eyes, but she knew what was coming. She began to panic, withdrawing herself further beneath the long branches of the willow. The soldier drew his sword.
"Mu!" December squealed, running with a child's foolish courage to the soldier. She stepped between her mother and the soldier. She drew her arrow and aimed it threateningly at the soldier. "Harst! Thattu! Sten Mami!
"I apologize, rhiesque," he noticed her thin silver crown and reached for it. December reached up and held it firmly on her head. The soldier pondered a moment. Why take the crown? Why not just take the girl? She would fetch a high price in a slave market. Then he could take her crown as well. He grabbed her and swung her over his shoulder, too quickly for her to react. She dropped the arrow and began screaming and pummeling his back with her bow.
But what she saw from over his shoulder filled her with an emotion she couldn't name—fear, panic, or maybe a lack of something? Behind him, a different soldier drew his sword and stabbed it into her mother, straight and true, through her heart.
"Mu!" she began struggling again, wanting to run to her mother. The soldier held firm, tossing her into a wagon. He latched the door and it slowly began to move. December cried, reaching through the wooden boards. She didn't look away for a second until the once beautiful village was out of sight. Her vision blurred over as she continued to cry without stopping, gripping her bow with her life.
A/N: You may notice a few changes here. I mean, other than the last one. You learn a little bit more about Dimitri. Dimitri's personality doesn't go from crazy angry to crazy nice… I think. And December's flashback has a little more detail. Tell me what you think about it. :) :) Also tell me what you think of the name changes and please, please tell me if you spot anywhere where I put Keilantra or Jerrold instead of December or Elijah. Thank YOOH!!!
Luv, Izzy
Review Replies
StarlightRoses: Why, thank you. : I hope you continue to love it.
Tish: Yeah, sorry I took so long. :[ I guess I sort of got discouraged for a while. Wow, thanks. Yeah, I love Aaron, too. huggles I like your names for Keilantra. You got a good taste in names. I'll probably go with December or Leah. But I think I'll keep Dimitri as he is. :::
jessica louise: Well… here it is.
flowerpetals: Yes, I'm very happy. Here, you get two muffins. throws muffins Thanks for the advice. And I like the name Elijah instead of Jerrold, I think. :D Yes, I've seen Anastasia! I love it! But I wasn't trying to copy him; I just loved that name… at the time, at least. I wasn't even thinking of the movie when I chose the name.
rosyflower: OK, OK. I don't want to be a murderer. )