City of Gold
By Emily Rimmer
Published by Emily Rimmer at Smashwords
Copyright 2012 Emily Rimmer
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CHAPTER ONE
Lorelle carried buckets of water from the well near the house into the kitchen, trying desperately not to spill. Her hands and feet were numb from the cold. She managed to keep the buckets steady until she entered the kitchen and her wet feet met the smooth stone floor.
There was no time to catch herself, her feet slid out from under her before she could react. She lay on her back for a moment, dazed from hitting her head, wet, and very cold.
Her master had been walking past the rear of the house just as she slipped and fell. He rushed over and roughly grabbed her by the arms, standing her up. “Look what you have done you clumsy half-wit!” She could smell the alcohol on his breath.
He slapped her in the back of the head. His aim was flawless; he managed to find the exact spot she had hit on the floor, and she yelped in pain. “Clean this up immediately, then stand outside and wait for me!”
She rushed to wipe the water from the floor and put the empty buckets out of the way. When she was finished, she reluctantly stepped outside and shut the kitchen door behind her. She stood in the snow, her rag-wrapped feet burning from the bitter cold.
She did not know how long she stood there, trembling from fear and from cold. Her clothing was wet, and had started to freeze. Her fiery red hair whipped wildly about her pale face. Even her striking emerald colored eyes felt as though they were beginning to freeze.
She saw him stagger around the corner of the house carrying a whip in one hand, and a bottle of whiskey in the other. Eighteen years she had been slave to this man. Her mother was long dead, and now only she remained. He was the only family she had, if you could call him that.
Lorelle steeled herself, and tried to prepare for what she knew was coming. He came close and grabbed a handful of her hair, forcing her to her knees. “Ten lashes,” he spat, “for being worthless and clumsy.” She crossed her arms over her chest and lowered her face nearly to the snow, a curtain of bright auburn waves hiding her tears.
Her master roughly pulled the back of her thin linen shirt over her head, leaving her bare back exposed. She squeezed her eyes shut tightly, and waited. The whip came down forcefully. Choking on a sob, she kept count, trying to distract herself.
She began to feel some relief when she passed five, it would be over soon... Her back was bleeding; she could see it dripping onto the glittering white snow beneath her. Ten lashes came and went, and unlike the previous times he had beaten her, he did not stop.
Fifteen lashes, then twenty, then thirty, and forty. She had lost count. The snow was now crimson with her blood, and she could barely feel him whipping her. She felt the cold, the trickle of blood, the wind on her damp skin. The last thing she felt was the sharp prickle of ice crystals upon her face as she fell into the snow and passed out.
Her master took a large swallow of whiskey, and threw the whip on what remained of her back. He looked at her, thinking her dead, and began to kick snow over her lifeless body. “Devil-haired little curse!” He spat. “You would have grown to be a witch! Just as your mother...”
He looked sad for a moment. “Dying young is a mercy upon you, one you do not deserve!” He stumbled back into the house, sat in front of a roaring fire, and drank until he lost consciousness.
It was dark when Lorelle awoke. She made several attempts to get up before finally succeeding, and stood for a moment trying to remember what had happened. Trembling, she stared at the house as though she could see through the stone exterior to where her master sat, his head rolled to one side, an over-turned bottle of whiskey on the floor next to his chair.
He had beaten her and left her for dead, kicked snow over her to hide her from any passing travelers. She was outside, no locked door stood between her and her freedom. Some force nearly compelled her to go back into the house willingly, but something inside her would not allow it.
She stared at the house for a moment longer before turning away and stumbling into the forest. She was almost certain that the cold would kill her, but she did not care. She walked blindly through the dark forest for what seemed like hours, but was indeed only minutes.
The sound of an approaching rider caused her to duck behind a large tree, watching the darkness for her master. He thought she was dead, what reason would he have to search for her? A large white horse carrying a very tall man slowly passed.
She held her breath, and as the rider passed she slowly exhaled. The horse came to a sudden halt, and she flattened herself against the tree, trying to disappear. “I will not hurt you; please do not hide from me.” His voice was sophisticated and gentle. “I have come to help you.”
Lorelle stepped out from behind the tree, wide-eyed and speechless. She watched as the man rode so close that she could feel the warmth of his horse. He reached a gloved hand towards her and waited patiently. “Take my hand, I promise no harm will come to you.”
She stared at his hand for a moment, her own remaining stubbornly at her side. She was so cold, and so weak that she was not certain she could lift her arms even if she wanted to. “I can not take you against your will.” He stepped down from his horse and knelt down to look her in the face.
His eyes startled her; they were the color of a clear summer sky. His skin was nearly golden, even in the dead of winter. His long hair was so pale it seemed nearly white. Everything about him was finer and more beautiful than ordinary men.
Something about him earned her trust. “If you want me to take you away from here, you must give me a sign. Please, take my hand...” He held his hand so close to hers that all she would need to do is move her fingers slightly.
She squeezed her eyes shut tightly, and took his hand. The moment her hand touched his the forest seemed to spin wildly out of control, he pulled her close and she leaned her head against his chest, holding tightly to him as the forest floor seemed to disappear out from under them.
She felt as though she were falling, and dared not open her eyes. Moments later their feet met solid ground again. Had he not been holding her arms she would have fallen over from the sudden impact.
“This is my home.” He released Lorelle's arms and removed the cloak. She looked around in disbelief. They were inside a room like she had never dreamed existed. Hundreds of candles burned; there was a large hearth with a lively fire blazing, and thousands of books.
The first things she noticed were the warmth, and the light. It seemed the winter night did not reach this place. The warmth began to settle over her, and she was suddenly in an excruciating amount of pain. Every inch of her felt as though she were on fire. “Oh God!” She gasped for air and fell to her knees at the feet of her strange rescuer.
She placed her hands on the floor and tried to hold herself somewhat steady. The man knelt down next to her and placed his hand on her back. He immediately withdrew his hand when she screamed in pain, and saw it was covered in blood.
He looked at her back, which had started to bleed freely as her wounds were thawed. It was easy to see what had happened to her. “I am so very sorry, if I had arrived quicker I might have prevented...” He trailed off, clearly deep in thought.
“This may hurt for a moment.” He lowered both his hands onto her back, and this time when she cried out he did not remove them. She did not have the strength to struggle; instead she trembled and fought the urge to cry. His hands were like fire, and a strange sensation rushed through her.
Her trembling ceased. She could feel her strength returning, and the horrible pain she had been in moments before seemed to melt away. She lifted her head and looked at the man as he removed his hands from her back. “What are you?” She asked, staring at him in stunned silence.
“You may call me Aaron.” He studied the girl as he helped her to her feet and directed her to a near by chair. “As for what I am,” he smiled slightly, “it is not easily explained. I am called immortal, the last of my kind, but do not mistake me for a god...” He changed the topic. “And you? What are you?”
“A slave, I... ran away from my master...” He was not surprised to see that she actually appeared ashamed of having run away. Even though she had been beaten and left for dead, the girl thought she was the one who had done wrong.
He shook his head slightly in disagreement. “Unless I am mistaken, you are no longer a slave.” He gazed into her eyes as she began to realize what he meant. “So, if you are not a slave, what are you?”
For a moment she was powerless to answer. She had always been a slave. If she was not a slave, then what was she? For the first time in her life, Lorelle was not sure what she was. “Free?” She asked nervously.
“Was that a question or a statement?” He stared so intensely into her eyes that she looked away for a moment. He gently put his thumb under her chin and raised her head so she was looking him in the eye again. “What are you?”
She tried for a moment to look away, but something held her. “I am...” She struggled to say it rather than ask it, “I...am...free.”
Aaron smiled broadly. “Say it again.”
She returned his smile, “I am free.” she whispered.
“I am free!” She nearly shouted it at him and leaped out of the chair she had been seated it. “I am free...”
“So you are.” He patted her gently on the back and whispered. “You are free, do not forget it.” He gave her a moment to collect herself and started walking towards the door of the large study. “I do not live alone here. There are others, and one of them is waiting quite anxiously to meet you.”
“Why should anybody want to meet me?” She looked genuinely surprised. “I am nobody special.”
He shook his head rather sadly. “How very wrong you are.” he whispered, too quietly for her to hear.
“Come with me.” He opened the heavy door to the study, and stood aside. Lorelle looked at him for a moment, wondering what he was doing. “After you.” He made a gesture with his arm.
She hesitated, and finally walked through the door wearing a shocked expression. She had become accustomed to being treated unkindly most of the time, and was not sure how to react to even the most rudimentary kindness.
Lorelle followed him closely, nearly jogging in order to keep up. They went down a wide stair case into an arched entry way. The floors were of dark wood polished to a mirror like shine. Candles burned on sconces along the smooth stone wall. To her right was a closed wooden door, and to her left, a stone archway leading into an office.
He gave a slight nod in the direction of the office and warmly greeted the woman behind the desk. She followed him shyly into the office and stood behind him. The woman behind the desk had a neatly pinned back twist of silver hair and alert gray eyes. She gestured towards the girl with her head. “Is this her?”
Aaron stepped aside so the woman could look the girl over. Lorelle hung her head, trying to shield her face behind a curtain of thick auburn hair. “Why do you hide, child? I am not here to punish you.”
She slowly lifted her head and looked around the office, her gaze eventually falling on the woman in front of her. “My name is Abigail.” She held her hand out to the girl. “And who might you be?”
“My name is Lorelle.” She answered quietly, and took the woman's hand. “I am sorry...”
“Heavens child, sorry for what? You have not been here long enough to do anything wrong.” She smiled at the girl, still holding her hands, and turned them over to inspect her palms.
“My word, look at her hands!” The woman leaned closer, muttering to herself in hushed tones. Lorelle looked as well, but saw nothing unusual about them. They were her hands, the same as they had always been.
“You are much more than a slave, child.” She smiled at the girl, who still stared at her hands in bewilderment. “Welcome to the order child. Most of us, like you, were carried here by the currents. You will find us to be a good family, and home.”
Lorelle was visibly confused. “What is the order?”
Abigail sat at her desk and leafed through some papers as she spoke. “The order is an organization of sorts. We heal, make potions, and offer advice to those who seek it from us. In times of great need, we sometimes work with the Emperor's military to protect the regions we serve in.”
“Oh dear, I am afraid I forgot to ask, do you know how to read and write? If you do not I am afraid we shall have to start quite from the beginning.” She smiled gently at the girl.
Lorelle shook her head no, lowering it slightly in shame.
The woman did not seem surprised. “Well my dear, you come from humble roots. Do not worry, I promise you will learn quickly. First and foremost, this is a place of learning and growth.”
“Aaron, if you would be so kind as to find a vacant bed for our newest member I will make sure she is finds her way to bed after she has had a bath and is given some clothes.” He nodded his agreement and smiled reassuringly before he made his way upstairs.
She followed the woman nervously into the back of the expansive house where there was a rather large room with a huge fire place along one wall. Plenty of wood was stacked nearby, and a large basin made of carefully carved wood stood near the fire.
There was an indoor well near the fire as well, and Abigail began filling the basin with steaming water. Lorelle watched in fascination, unable to believe her eyes. She dipped her hand in the basin and withdrew it in surprise. “The water is hot without heating it over a fire?” She had never before seen such a wonderful mystery. “How is it done?”
The woman smiled. “Look in the well and you will see.”
She walked over to the well and peered into it. Through the water she could see the bottom of the well was engulfed in flames. “But... that is impossible!” She took a step back from the well and nearly tripped over a nearby chair. “Fire can not burn under water, it can not!”
“Clearly my dear, you were taught wrong. As you can see with your very own eyes it can, and it is.” She tried to comfort the girl. “Under normal circumstances, you would be quite right. Nothing here is what you would think of as normal, but you will become accustomed to it in time I promise you.”
“It is evil.” Lorelle frowned thoughtfully. “All of it, all of you are evil...” She trailed off for a moment, in deep thought. “Man is not supposed to have power like this!”
Abigail took a steadying breath. “You were beaten nearly to death, for slipping and dropping a bucket of water. Is that not evil? Your mother was taken from you, and you were put to work as a child, kept ignorant, and taught only what your master wanted you to believe. Is that not evil? Think well on this child, what do you truly know of what is good and what is evil?”
“You have had horrible things done to you for so long and never questioned them. This is not evil, it is only different. But, if you wish to leave... If you wish to return home, or to any other place, you are free to go when and where you please.” The woman wandered to the other side of the room as she spoke.
She looked in a nearby wardrobe and pulled out a simple dress of heavy wool, and a heavy cotton night dress. She handed the cotton night dress to the frightened girl, “This is for tonight.” Abigail set the dress on the chair. “And this is for tomorrow.” She smiled gently. “One day at a time child. Stay tonight; hear what Aaron has to say tomorrow. Then, if you wish to leave so be it.”
“I can not go home...He would kill me for running away.” She frowned. “I have nowhere else to go.”
“I know my dear, why do you think you were brought here?” The woman smiled weakly, and was momentarily lost in thought.
“What do you mean?” She looked at Abigail distrustfully.
“I am sorry; it is not my story to tell. Aaron will explain things to you tomorrow.” Abigail finished filling the basin of water. “I will leave you to bathe in peace.” She smiled at Lorelle and left the room, closing the door gently behind her.
The girl looked at the basin of hot water for a moment, and peered once again into the well. For a moment she just stood, staring at the fire, somewhat entranced. Fascinated, but quite disturbed by it. The fire burned beneath the water, mocking her. She had to know how it was possible.
Now she was staring at an impossibility, and felt like she knew absolutely nothing about anything. She dipped her hand into the well and felt the hot water. It did not burn as she had expected it to, and she turned and looked at her wash basin full of steaming water. It was a temptation she could no longer resist.
She stood by the fire, quickly shed her clothing and stepped into the deep basin. Lorelle let the water cover her completely, and held her breath for a time. A real bath was a luxury she had never had. She had always washed with a damp rag, scrubbing her hair with frigid water.
She sat upright and took a breath, drew her knees close to her and wrapped her arms around them. “Forgive me...” She did not know who she asked forgiveness of, nor was she quite certain of what she had done wrong. She rested her head on her knees and cried quietly.
She was not sure of how long she had been sitting there, overwhelmed by what could easily be described as the worst day of her life. Oddly enough, it might possibly have been the best day of her life as well, though that did little to appease her.
The cooling water and the diminishing fire brought her back to herself. She stood abruptly, and stepped out of the large basin. For a moment, she stood in front of what remained of the fire, warming and drying herself. “God, how long have I been sitting here?” She scolded herself.
She quickly pulled on her night dress and picked up the dress she had been given. She looked at her discarded clothes on the floor. They were covered in blood, a reminder of the brutal whipping she had endured. Did I not deserve a better life than I was given?
She picked them up and glared at them for a moment. They were indisputable evidence of where she had come from. Why do you speak of your life as if it has ended? Child, your life has only just begun.
Lorelle looked around the room and found nobody. “Who is here?” She demanded. She knew nobody would answer; it was not a voice she had heard. It was a shadow of a thought, one which did not belong to her. Yet, it was in response to what she had thought. Somebody was... listening.
“Hello?” She whispered. No response came, and she thought for a moment that she had imagined it. She looked back down at her tattered clothes. “I will be slave to nobody!” She gripped the bloodied rags tightly in anger for a moment, and cast them into the fire.
The flames devoured the remnants of her past. The only reminders she carried now were her many scars and she knew she would never be rid of them. They would forever remind her of what it was like to live in slavery to another.
She turned away from the fireplace and hurriedly left the room. Abigail had waited patiently for her for what may have been hours. “I hope that helped you some.” She smiled at the girl, “You must be tired, come with me.”
She followed the kind woman obediently upstairs, past the expansive library, into a very large room. “Shared sleeping quarters I am afraid, but do not worry. You are quite safe.” Abigail found an empty bed, and gestured towards it. “Rest well, child.”
“A...bed?” She whispered, “You are giving me a bed?” Lorelle looked at the bed in disbelief. “I have only ever slept on the floor...” She turned to the woman. “Are you sure I will not make anybody angry?”
Abigail shook her head, “Heavens child, you will certainly not get into any trouble for sleeping on a bed! You may sleep wherever you please.” She gave the shocked girl a tiny nudge towards the bed. “Goodnight, child.”
She crawled under the heavy covers, grateful of the warmth. Her eyelids grew heavy and she fell asleep. The softness of the bed felt great at first, but quickly became uncomfortable.
A few hours after lying down she sat up and stared at the floor next to her bed for a moment. She pulled her blankets onto the wooden planks, snuggled back into them, and quickly fell into a heavy sleep.
“Wake up, Lorelle.” It was faint at first, then louder. The feel of a hand on her shoulder caused her to wake with a start. She sat up, momentarily confused and afraid.
“I am sorry.” Aaron stood up and took a step back. “I thought you fell out of bed or something.”
“Oh, no I just...” She looked around. “Is it morning?”
“Close enough.” He smiled and offered her his hand.
She took it and pulled herself up from the floor, clutching her blankets to her. It was still dark. There was a narrow, arched window next to her bed. She set her blankets down, and wiped the glass with her hand. The thin veil of ice melted under her touch and she could see outside.
She turned away from the window. “Why was I brought here? I tried to ask Abigail last night and she said that you were to tell me. She said I was brought here for a reason.”
He seemed worried. “To tell you why you are here I will have to tell you a story that will not be easy for you to hear.” He sat on his bed, which was across from hers, and she sat on her bed waiting for him to speak.
“This is one story of how your world was created. There are worlds within worlds and each of them has a different story, but I promise you have never heard this version of it told.” The girl looked confused. “I will start from the beginning.”
“The world of man was created as an example of all the magnificence of the combined creative power of many highly evolved beings. They gathered together and put forth all their best ideas. Their creation was splendid and perfect, a truly impressive show of what the gods were able to achieve when they worked together.” He gave her a moment to take in what he was saying.
“All they knew, all their power and magnificence was used to create this world. It was a great library, holding all the knowledge they possessed, and therefore all of their combined power. The men, the animals, the very earth itself was brimming with the essence of the creators, and they were pleased – for a time.” He continued, despite the displeased expression on her face.
“The creators had unwittingly created something more powerful than any of them was, and when they realized this they became fearful and argued amongst themselves. Some wished to gain control over the world of man, thus making themselves most powerful. Some were simply fearful of a creation that held such tremendous knowledge and power.” He watched the girl's confused expression and wished he had not been the one to tell her.
“Still, there were some who were proud of the splendor they had created. There were some who wished to see their creation flourish, and grow, and realize its full potential. These were the creators who understood that as their creation grew so did they. They were not afraid because they understood that they were their creation, and their creation was them.”
Aaron saw how she battled, in silent war with herself. What was she to believe? This story spat in the face of all she had been taught, but... if she was who they felt she was, she would feel the truth in it.
“The creators were divided. There were many who wished to strip their creation of the power it held, or to claim the creation for themselves. They did not strip man of his innate power because they knew that in doing so they would make themselves weaker as well.”
“Instead, they made him forget his power, and they kept the knowledge of what man truly was from him. This was their power over him. They have kept this light from man, rather successfully, for a very long time...to man anyway.”
Her mind raced. What, exactly was he trying to tell her? She was not certain she could even grasp what he said. The fingers of her mind reached out and clutched at the ideas, and it seemed as though they dissipated upon being touched, and were lost to her.
“The creators who put darkness upon the world of man worked to hold it in place with lies. Many of the creators showed themselves and their impressive powers to man so he would fear them, and label them as gods.”
“These self-proclaimed gods had a large investment in the domination of man. They needed him to be dependent and weak. The gods eventually seemed to blur into one great and all powerful God, a more fearsome and indefeasible captor than the several creators who had indeed created the world of man.”
“Man was taught to fear God, taught that he was weak and insignificant in comparison. Man was taught that they were God's creation, and at the mercy of God. God made rules for man that would inhibit their growth and prevent them from remembering or regaining their power.”
“Though darkness had fallen upon the world of man, and he had forgotten his power, there were creators who sympathized. They wished to see their creation restored to its former glory. Their smaller numbers forced them to use unconventional methods to help man remember and reclaim his power.”
“Several of these creators and many other beings who sympathized with the world of man chose to forsake and forget their power, and be born into their creation blind and ignorant...as humans. They hoped that by working to remember and reclaim their own divinity they would serve as an inspiration to man. They hoped man would see what he was capable of, and aspire to be what he had originally been.” Aaron paused and searched the girl's conflicted features for some sign that she understood what he said.
He sighed. “You do not have to believe me. Even if you do not, simply having heard this will forever change your life, and for that... I am both sorry, and thankful. As for why you are here and what you are to do, that is something only you can decide.”
Lorelle felt as though she could not breathe. The sound of her pounding heart beat loudly in her ears; she could hear the blood being moved through her body. “You...” She started, but could not quickly find the words to finish her sentence. “Why should I believe a word you say?” She hissed quietly, trying not to wake those who still slept nearby.
He shook his head silently. Her cheeks grew red and her eyes glinted dangerously. “What blasphemy...” She fought to keep her voice down. “It is a wonder you did not get struck down as you spoke!” She stood quickly. “I will not stay here, I am leaving now!”
Aaron looked at her calmly, “Where will you go?”
She glared at him. “I am free to go where I will. I owe you my thanks for that, but I will not stay here and listen to such lies!”
Aaron stood and strode out of the room without a word. He went into a room filled with items kept for travel and found a heavy fur lined cloak, a pair of boots, a satchel, and a small dagger. He hurriedly grabbed them from their places and tossed them onto a bench near the front door.
He carried the satchel into the kitchen where he took a large crust of bread, wrapped it in linen, and shoved it into the bag. He also filled a skin with wine and carefully placed it in the small leather bag. When he had finished packing the bag full of food and drink he went back to the bench and sat next to the supplies, waiting.
She came down the stairs quietly, wearing the heavy wool dress Abigail had given her. She paused when she saw him sitting on the bench waiting for her. For a moment she thought he may try to prevent her from leaving, but she stubbornly set her jaw and continued her descent.
She paused again at the bottom of the stairs, her heart still beating wildly. He did not look at her, but stared instead at the wall across from where he sat. His expression was unreadable. There was no anger, and her fear subsided. She continued cautiously towards the door.
“Wait.” He said softly as she passed in front of him. “It is cold. Please, take these; I hope they help you reach ...wherever you are going... safely.” Lorelle stopped and slowly turned her head. She saw the heavy cloak, the boots, the satchel, and lastly the dagger. It was more kindness than she expected from somebody whom she had clearly disappointed.
Her breath caught in her chest, and for a moment she was speechless. She just stared at the items, and at the man who offered them to her. She regretted the harsh words she had said to him, but she would not take them back. She had spoken the truth.
“You are not angry with me?” The girl questioned him suspiciously.
He shook his head. “You are free to do as you wish. I can not, and would never, hold you here against your will. But know this; just as you are free to leave, you are also free to return.”
When she finally drew the courage to speak it was a simple “Thank you.” She sat on the bench next to him and silently put on the boots he had laid out for her.
Lorelle stood unsteadily, and fastened the heavy cloak about her shoulders, and picked up both the dagger and the satchel. She looked at him one more time. Part of her was incredibly thankful to him. He had, without a doubt saved her from the bitter winter night. He had healed her wounds, and now he stood aside and left her to choose her own path.
She opened the heavy door, and stepped outside the stony manor into the darkness of a world not yet touched by the sun. The snow was deep and she waded through it determinedly. She walked resolutely towards the forest that loomed beyond the snow encrusted lawns, leaving Aaron staring after her through a frosted window.
He shook his head. “Stubborn girl, I hope her hardheadedness serves her well.” He watched her pause at the edge of the forest. “Please,” he prayed, “guide and protect her. Show the girl her path, whatever it may be.”
The forest was dark and intimidating. She stood, between two large trees on the fringe, and looked at the manor in the distance. “Lies!” She scolded herself; shaking her head to free her mind from the blasphemous story of creation she had been told.
The girl stepped between the two trees as though they were an arched doorway into the forest, and let her feet carry her where they wished. She did not notice the cold, nor the rising of the sun. Her mind swam as she walked through the dense woods.
Try though she may she could not forget what he had told her. Her mind screamed in violent protest to what had been thrust upon it. But, deep within her a quiet, almost indiscernible voice whispered to her. He spoke the truth. You know it was the truth, and yet you flee. The same voice she had heard the night before came to her.
“Shut up!” She screamed at the stillness around her. “He lied!” Her savage cry silenced the forest, but did nothing to calm the turmoil within. She leaned forward against a tree, resting her forehead upon its great trunk. She looked around the forest, uncertain of where she was.
“How far have I gone?” She questioned nobody in particular. A glance at the sky showed her it was nearly mid-day. She had been walking west, the sun behind her. Now it stood directly overhead. Everything was shrouded in a thick glittering white veil of snow.
The trees were encrusted with it to the very highest branches; it clung to tall grasses and shrubs like sparkling lace. For perhaps the first time in her life she realized that the world was full of not only danger, but stunning beauty as well.
She turned and leaned her back against the tree, pulled her cloak about her tightly, and stared at the vastness around her. “God,” she thought out-loud. “Where will I go?”
Stubborn human, you fight against what you know is truth. You want to go back, why do you deny it? Snow swirled violently, taking the brief shape of a woman. Her arm was outstretched, pointing behind Lorelle. As quickly as she formed, she diminished, scattered by the same wind which created her.
She stood motionless, staring in disbelief at the spot the woman had occupied for a moment. “Back? To being a slave? I can not do it... I will not!”
Child, you know I do not speak of returning to slavery. Do what you please, but you know well where you wish to be. The wind started blowing harshly in her face, seemingly saying, You may continue this way if you wish, but I will make it difficult for you.
She turned around, and stared the direction the woman had pointed. She gave a resigned sigh, and began trudging angrily through the snow, cursing under her breath. Fine, have it your way! If that is where I am supposed to be, that is where I will go.
The wind calmed and air warmed slightly, easing her return journey. She became less angry as she walked. It was not the story Aaron had told that made her angry. She could see how perhaps it could be true. What it injured was her pride.
The thought of having been lied to, and having believed such a lie for her entire life, that was no easy thing to cope with. In time she decided that the best thing she could do was to be open-minded. She would not believe this new story just because it was told to her, nor would she assume it was a lie.
It was the best she could manage at the time, and it made her feel better about returning to the order. They were kind to me, she conceded to herself. Why should I not stay just because we do not believe the same thing? Besides, she offered, where else do I have to go? She retraced her steps, though the forest seemed endless.
Darkness came and enveloped the land, no moon shone over head to guide her, no stars lit her way. The sky was heavy, and clouded, and unforgiving. The wind began to blow again, and it carried the first stinging flakes of a violent snow storm.
She was confused. Why have you sent this now? To stand in between me and the place you said I should go? What sense does that make! She shouted angrily at the heavens and stopped walking. What kind of joy do you get from making me miserable!
She leaned heavily against a tree and took a drink of the wine in her satchel. It was sweet, and it seemed to make her slightly more resistant to the cold. Lorelle tied the bag of wine tightly shut and replaced it in the pack. If this is the road you want me to take, she challenged, why have you decided to make it nearly impassable!
What path in life is easiest? The best path challenges you, torments you, and teaches you the meaning of strength. This is but a small taste of what is to come. You do not tread a level path, yours ascends. You do not carry a light burden. It will feel like you carry the world of man upon your shoulders. This is your fate, it is not an easy one. You can fight it, but you will never escape it. Accept what you have been given.
She screamed at the wind. “What!” She cried. “What have I been given!” Her small frame shook with rage. “You ask me to accept what! Is this not another kind of slavery?” She leaned against the tree, refusing to take another step, and pulled the heavy cloak close. “I am not your servant; I want a life that is my own!”
She lowered her head, feeling afraid, angry, and hopeless. Is my life so meaningless that I do not deserve a choice? Do I not get to say who I am, and where I will live, and what I will do? I do not want this! She started to cry silently, the tears froze upon her cheeks and were lost in the snow.
The wind howled violently back at her in response, carrying the voice of her invisible, but not silent, companion. No, child, you are not a servant. You are a messenger, a carrier of light in a dark world. You can not be other than what you are. You can try, and none can prevent you from trying. In the end though, you will be exactly what you are meant to be. You chose this before coming here.
The wind softened and the snow fell gently instead of stinging her face. She looked at the sky, and saw the clouds thinning and dividing. Behind them was a rich, dark sky, studded with stars, and a pale sliver of moon. When you accept what you are and allow yourself to be that which you are meant to be, even the most impossible tasks will yield against your will.
Lorelle closed her eyes; half wishing the voice she heard would go away, fearing it was her imagination. “Who are you?” She asked. No reply came. “Please,” she persisted, “I must know.”
Nobody of consequence. It was not the response she had expected, and certainly not what she had hoped for. She threw up her hands in a gesture of resignation and shook her head slightly. She was both irritated, and slightly amused.
“Have it your way.” She retorted, and resumed her walking. “I am going home.” It was a slip of the tongue, nothing more. Certainly that place she had stayed in for only one night was not home, though she supposed it could become home in time.
She felt her heart leap slightly at the idea of having a home and her step lightened. She navigated the forest as though she knew where she was going. It was late when she saw lighted windows in the distance. They were a surprisingly welcome sight.
Whoever it was that followed her, whispering in her ear, had changed something in her. She felt she was not the same girl who had walked into the forest before dawn. She tracked across the large lawns, back to the old stone manor, and hesitated at the door.
Her hand was just reaching for the heavy bronze knocker when the door swung open. Light poured out of the doorway, nearly blinding her for a moment. Abigail stood in the doorway smiling slightly. “Welcome back.” She stepped aside so Lorelle could enter.
She stood staring for a moment, mouth agape. “How did you...” She caught herself. “Never mind...” She stepped into the entryway, and set herself and her satchel on a nearby bench. “Apparently this is where I am supposed to be. If you and Aaron already knew that, why did he let me leave?”
Abigail took the girl's cloak, boots, and satchel to a storage room nearby. “Would you have believed either of us if we said you were meant to be here? You had to learn that for yourself.”
She considered what Abigail told her for a time. “I suppose you are right.” She looked at the woman before her. “I am sorry I called you evil. I was afraid...”
“Lorelle,” Abigail started, “You have nothing to apologize for. I knew even as you said it that you did not truly believe it yourself. You were far braver than most people would have been.”
The woman stood and stifled a yawn. “It is late. I am going to go to sleep. Your bed is ready, you go up whenever you are tired.” The corners of her mouth moved in a slight smile. “Goodnight dear.”
“Goodnight.” She called softly as Abigail walked to her room. She felt as though she had not slept in years, and quietly went up the stairs and collapsed onto her bed. Sleep took her quickly that night, and did not release her until morning.
She woke early, and stared out the window. It seemed that a different world lay outside. One that was brighter and more full of promise and hope. She decided she would make this place her home, and these people her family.
The order members took her into their family, and taught her the old ways of mysticism, intuition, and healing. Seasons passed, and the frightened girl years of slavery had created fell away, and was replaced by a nearly unrecognizable young woman of great courage, intelligence, and openness.
CHAPTER TWO
“Begging your pardon madam, there is a messenger in the front hall to see you.” Abigail looked up from her scrolls to see one of the house staff, a particular favorite of hers, standing in the doorway. Else was a woman who was of small stature and large girth. She was cheerful, with silver just touching her light brown hair, and deep violet eyes which always shone.
“Thank you, Else. You may show him in.” She cleared away the scrolls and sat up a little straighter, anticipating a military messenger. A uniformed man entered the room. He was of average height and build, and plain of face, but one with a good sense of perception could feel he was powerful and ambitious.
“Emperor Taras requests that two mystics, the best you have, be dispatched to Aureate immediately. They will need to provide useful insight, excel in healing, and have some skill in combat.” The messenger gave her a moment to consider who would be best suited for the assignment.
“I think I have just the team for you. Please, make yourself comfortable while I notify them.” She rose and left the room, climbing the stairs to the library, where she found Lorelle thoroughly absorbed in an enormous book.
“I think you are ready for assignment, how would you feel about going on an excursion to Aureate. The Emperor and his troops require our services and I thought you would be well-suited for the task.”
Lorelle looked up from her reading, a wide grin spread across her face. Her excitement at putting her schooling to use was too great to disguise. “Of course I will go!”
“Aaron will accompany you; he is the only one here who still surpasses your abilities in most areas. Except for me of course,” Abigail added with a smile. Abigail nodded to her and climbed another flight of stairs. She found Aaron in the sleeping quarters, filling a leather pack with some traveling essentials. “Were you going somewhere?” Abigail asked as she approached.
He turned to face her, “Indeed, I believe I am going to Aureate with the messenger and Lorelle.” He gave her a quick smile and continued to pack his bag. “I will be down shortly.”
“I will send Lorelle up.” She looked worried for a moment. “I know I do not have to tell you this, but this being her first assignment... Do what you can to keep her out of danger?”
He smiled almost bitterly. “You know I will keep her from harm if I am able.” He paused for a moment. “Do you think she is ready for something quite like this?”
Abigail nodded in response and left the room, stopping to tell Lorelle to get packed before continuing to her office. She assured the messenger that she had selected her two most qualified members, and that they were preparing for travel.
Aaron pulled a second leather pack from the small wardrobe on the near wall and tossed it onto the chest at the foot of Lorelle's bed. She trotted into the room and began filling her bag hurriedly. She packed a few clothes, her leather note book, and pens. “What will I need?”
He glanced at her bag. “What you have should do. We will need to get you into some armor though, and you will want to choose your weapons.”
She stared blankly at him for a moment. “Armor and weapons?”
“We can not travel with the Emperor or his men and not be prepared for trouble,” he cautioned her. We will both stop in the storage room before leaving.” He saw her concern. “Do not worry; I will not let you come to any harm.”
She smiled nervously and fastened her bag. “I will hold you to your word...” They visited the storage room to get properly outfitted for travel. There were several suits of armor in various sizes and types. She was fitted with hard leather armor and given a sword, a bow, and a quiver of arrows.
Her uneasy expression caused Aaron to smile to himself slightly. As he sheathed his sword, he looked at her. She seemed very uncomfortable with her new attire. “You will grow used to it. Soon enough you will move just as freely as you would if you were in your regular clothing.”
They entered the office together, introducing themselves to the soldier who had come to retrieve them. The man looked pleased enough with Aaron but cast a slightly incredulous glance at Lorelle. “Are you certain the girl is suited to this type of work?”
Abigail laughed slightly and replied, “She is surpassed in skill only by Aaron. You asked for my two best, and here they are. This girl is something of a prodigy. She surpassed even her teachers in a remarkably short amount of time, and is the most promising member we have seen in a very long time.”
The soldier seemed content after hearing such a glowing review and stood. He bowed slightly to Abigail, and then turned to the team of mystics. “Follow me if you please, we have little time to waste.”
“You may call me Breyborne,” he glanced over his shoulder at the mystics, “Do you have horses or will we need to stop at the stable outside the gates,” Aaron sensed her uneasiness and smiled reassuringly.
“I am afraid we will need to stop at the stable.” Aaron gave Breyborne a knowing look. “I have a horse of my own, but Lorelle does not. It will not be necessary for you to pay for her animal; I have the money for it.”
“Most generous of you,” the soldier said with a pleased grin. He did not like to part with his gold, even though he was always given plenty to travel on. He was allowed to keep any gold which was left over from his travel expenses. That incentive had tightened his pockets over the years and he had saved a tidy sum from choosing to travel lightly.
They traveled silently through the city and arrived at the stables, though they were closed for the night. Breyborne knocked on the proprietor's door and convinced him to make a late sale.
Aaron walked over to his horse; it was the one he had ridden when he first found Lorelle. “It is time for another journey, friend.”
The girl noticed a large golden stallion watching her with interest. She returned his gaze for a moment. “Is he for sale?” She asked, pointing him out to the breeder.
The man laughed, but stopped himself and pretended to clear his throat when she shot him a scathing glance. “I doubt you would want that horse if you knew his temperament. Nobody can touch him, let alone ride him.” He tried to direct her attention to a gray mare that was clearly past her prime. “Wouldn't she be more to your liking?”
She stared at him indignantly. “No, she would not be more to my liking. I want that stallion.” Aaron shot her a questioning look, but saw she had her heart set on the animal and said nothing.
“My dear, if you can ride him you can have him. He is too handsome a beast to put down, but it seems to me that is the only option for such a spiteful animal. I have been delaying it.” He shook his head slightly in disbelief as she accepted.
“You are likely to break your neck trying to tame that beast, but then that is none of my concern.” He leaned against the fence and watched, fairly certain that she would come to her senses and choose a more docile animal after she saw what the stallion was capable of.
Lorelle walked quietly over to the stallion and stopped a short distance away from his shoulder. He snorted, pawed the ground, and turned his head to look at her. She whispered something inaudible to him and he lowered himself to the ground.
“What the...” The breeder was glad the fence was supporting him or he might have fallen over. He was unable to finish his sentence, and watched in disbelief as the girl climbed onto the stallion's back. The beast that had nearly killed him several times stood up carefully and allowed the girl to remain on his back.
Aaron saw the breeder’s displeasure and tried to give him some gold. The man simply shook his head in refusal. “I said if she could ride him she could have him. I did not believe it possible, but I am a man of my word.”
“Understood,” he replied amiably. “Thank you for assisting us so late in the evening.” He leaped onto the back of his mare with ease and glanced at Breyborne.
“I see I am the only one here who requires a saddle,” the soldier said as he mounted an impressive bay gelding. Lorelle smiled slightly, gave a nod to show her readiness and started out behind Breyborne. Aaron fell in behind her and the three rode single file down the moonlit road.
They traveled at a quick walk, riding straight through the night. It was nearly sunrise before they stopped. The road was deep in the forest now, and had been reduced to little more than a broad trail.
They steered away from the path and began making their way towards a clearing. The sound of running water could be heard nearby, and birds cried and scattered to distant perches before returning to their songs.
A frequently used fire pit rested in the center of the clearing, making it apparent that this area was regularly utilized. The clearing made a large semi-circle, with a swiftly moving stream curving around it.
This was a camp often used by soldiers, the casual traveler would not likely know of its existence. The forest was thick, and the road was nearly a quarter mile away. Lorelle glanced around sleepily and dismounted, letting her bag slip to the ground.
Breyborne and Aaron dismounted and began to set up camp. Aimlessly, she wandered amongst the trees, picking up ideal pieces of fire wood and carrying them under her arm. When she had gathered a useful amount she deposited it near the fire pit.
Breyborne began to lay the kindling and the larger pieces of wood for a fire. He reached into his bag for the flint stone he carried. “That will not be necessary,” Aaron told him.
The soldier stood back and watched as Aaron stared at the modest fire pit, willing it to serve its purpose. There was a small puff of smoke and the kindling combusted, sending flames to devour the sticks and small logs arranged within the circle.
He was quickly reminded of why he enjoyed being in the company of order mystics and gave Aaron a smile and a nod. Lorelle gently elbowed him in the side, “Show off.” she whispered under her breath, trying not to sound amused.
The three were each eager to find their bedroll and rest. Little was said, but everybody was in good spirits. She crawled under her small shelter and lay down, enjoying the breeze and the tree filtered sunlight.
Sleep took her quickly, as it did the others. She slept fitfully, but upon waking could not remember her dreams. It was early afternoon when she and the others rose from their bedrolls and began to pack their supplies and prepare for another night of travel.
Lorelle and Aaron exchanged a slightly worried looks and approached Breyborne. “Something is not right.” Aaron looked at the soldier's facial expression as he spoke to determine if he was being taken seriously.
Something flashed briefly in the man's eyes and he unconsciously felt the hilt of his sword. She stepped closer and spoke, “Danger is not imminent, but we will come under attack. It would be wise to be aware of our surroundings.” Breyborne gave the two mystics a nod of acknowledgment and began to saddle his horse.
Aaron swung onto his mare and rode towards Dunmore. Lorelle looked at the stallion, who was glancing nervously around the forest, ears pricked forward to catch the slightest sound. She poked the horse, sighing slightly in annoyance.
“Are you listening to me?” She spoke rather sharply to her horse but he was absorbed in his surroundings and paid her little attention. Aaron swung off Feher's back and gave Lorelle a leg up. She deposited herself skillfully onto the horse's back and patted his neck vigorously in an attempt to get his attention.
“He is quite distracted,” she told her companions. She thought perhaps the horse was aware of impending trouble as well, and was taking the suggestion of being alert quite seriously.
“It would not surprise me if that were the case,” Aaron had read her thoughts rather unconsciously and immediately felt guilty but she did not seem to notice or mind the intrusion. “The other horses are nervous as well.”
Breyborne agreed as he tightened the girth on his saddle. His horse shifted uneasily and tossed his head. He mounted and the three set out once more towards their destination. “We should reach Aureate in two days if we keep a steady pace.”