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ravekitten — Chapter I: Penance
Published: 2004-01-12 05:35:27 +0000 UTC; Views: 1776; Favourites: 5; Downloads: 415
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I was dead. However, my head throbbed maliciously. This must be what penance is, I thought bitterly. Living the last few moments of my life over again, and giving me time to think of my past sins before I departed for judgement. I could almost still feel the tears of the mourning skies pattering softly on my face, my hair matted to my forehead; I could almost still hear the clear whistle of the wind through the trees high above me, as gentle as the cool evening breeze. The rest of my body lay numb and confused. Where I could feel, I only felt the trickling warmth of my life’s blood, escaping back to the merciless earth from whence it came.Suspended in between anguish and rapture, in limbo, the halfway house of the gods; I thought of my short life and how I came to such a miserable passing.
My first real memories began the day I was to start my schooling. Any recollections before that day are smells and sounds mostly, with a few hushed voices that still haunt me in my dreams.
~~~
It was a clear and sunny day. The birds were chirping merrily in the tops of their favourite trees; the bees buzzing hurriedly around the blue and yellow flowers in the long flowerbeds where worms burrowed, seeking the dampness of the earth.
A rather formidable looking man stood by the front door of his small white cottage, the sun beating down on him warmly as he eyed the frame of the small boy in front of him. The child stared up at the man, squinting at the brightness of the morning light, his little face screwed up into a vicious scowl.
One General Braccada of the City Guard handed down a rather bulging pack to his stepson with a notorious wink.
‘But I don’t want to go,’ the boy whined, squinting up with deep blue eyes at the older man, who immediately returned a mock-stern look,
‘I know. And you’ll have to do a lot of things that you don’t want to, but that’s just the way life is.’ Braccada couldn’t help but become rather amused by Dain’s antics, the ever-expressive features of the boy’s countenance now drawn into an air somewhat mirroring the after-effects of sucking on a lemon.
Dain frowned. ‘This isn’t fair!’ he whimpered.
Brac tried not to smile, ‘Who ever said life was fair?’ his tone lightened somewhat as he added, ‘My dear boy, if you don’t get to your class this minute, I shall drag you by your ears.’ He emphasized his point by pinching his thumb and forefinger towards the kid.
Dain’s eyes widened in surprise, ‘You wouldn’t dare!’
The older man grinned and stood up to his full height, ‘If I were you, sonny, I wouldn’t wait around to find out.’
With that declaration thrust into the wind, Dain quickly threw his pack over his shoulder and ran down the dirt road that would lead him into town.
‘And be good!’ Brac yelled after him.
The Captain smiled to himself as he ducked into the small doorway of his comfortable
wooden home. After blinking a few times to get rid of the summer’s insistent glare, Braccada had an abstract glance around the room. Not bad, he thought.
He leaned against the jamb as he surveyed the old wooden doors leading off to the kitchen and the study to the left, and the doors leading to his and Dain’s chambers to the right. His eyes cast over the rugs and the comfy chairs by the empty hearth, and stopped when they sailed over the solid oak dining table in the centre of the room.
Walking over to it slowly, he traced his fingers over the birds and vines that were wrapped around its frame, the light from the doorway casting a warm and inviting glow on its surface. The chairs had the same design.
He recalled the day he carved them. The familiar birds, flora and fauna of the green forests coming to life under his hands, giving the dark wood a life-story of its own, taking its place among the forest trees once more. The same day he gave the wood a breath of life, was the same day he met Dain’s mother.
Everyone in the town knew of the tragic story of Ilisea Arnette. He remembered hearing the old women gossip as they stopped by the army posting to give him treats. He heard how the young and comely woman was recently widowed, her husband being killed in a battle in the Kingdoms to the south, and how she came to Arrah, with her unborn child to start anew. He knew of these tales, but had never actually met the ill-fated woman. Braccada knew mostly everyone in the inner-most town of Arin, the capital of Arrah; and most of the travellers to the Castle, so was naturally intrigued to meet the newcomer.
Nothing could prepare him for her, however.
He remembered that fateful day quite well.
~~~
Braccada’s old tool bag, mottled with age and too much bark dye, lay on the table filled with odd-looking tools as he carved a delicately detailed thrush into the leg of a chair. There was a polite knock on the door.
Brac smiled as he stood. It would be Mrs Beaterman, the old merchant woman who brought him his groceries for the week. He lightly blew the sawdust off the thrush and wiped his hands on his trousers. As he walked over to open the front door, he said quite loudly,
‘You’re late, Mrs Beaterman. I was beginning to think you weren’t coming.’ he opened the door and continued, ‘I hope you didn’t forget your way or…’ he trailed off as he saw the woman who definitely wasn’t Mrs Beaterman standing in the doorway. Braccada tried not to stare openly at this raven-haired apparition as she smiled at him and said quite casually, ‘Or what?’
He blinked, and then deciding she was real, replied a bit lamely, ‘Sorry?’
‘You were hoping Mrs Beaterman hadn’t got lost or… or what exactly?’
‘Oh…,’ Braccada tried not to stare, but lost in her fathomless blue eyes he couldn’t help himself. ‘I can’t seem to remember.’ Suddenly remembering his manners at that, he said a little too-casually, ‘Braccada, at your service’ and held out his hand.
The angel grinned at him with ruby lips, and perfectly small teeth.
‘Yes, I know who you are, Captain. Mrs Beaterman hired me to run her errands. I’m Ilisea.’ She jaunted the basket onto one deliciously curved hip and reached out to shake his hand.
The images of the widow he had in mind were nowhere near as enticing as the real thing. ‘Nice to meet you.’ he managed.
‘Likewise,’ she said, still grinning,
The Captain only realised then that they were still standing in the doorway. ‘Please come in. Here, let me take that.’ He took the basket from her and led her into the small kitchen where he started unpacking flour and various necessities, stashing them away in the storage cupboard.
‘Nice place you’ve got.’ Ilisea noted idly as she wandered back into the dining room.
Brac just smiled after her, ‘Thank you. It’s all I need.’
He heard her soft footfalls on the hearth rug. ‘Oh, are you carving?
Empty basket in hand, he followed her steps into the dining room and watched her, crouching on the floor surveying the tools and the small bird imbedded into the chair. She turned to look at him and he nodded.
‘This looks wonderful.’ she marvelled, clasping her hands together in delight.
‘It’s not much yet, but I think it’ll turn out all right in the end.’ The Captain noted somewhat modestly, never one to take such a lovely compliment lying down.
Ilisea stood back up and Brac handed her back the basket.
‘I plan on doing those chairs and the table frame.’ he added, hoping to delay her departure by coercing her into a conversation.
‘Well, I’d best be off,’ she said with a smile, reaching out to shake his hand. ‘Don’t want Mrs Beaterman to get rid of me after my first day.’
I guess not, he thought with an inward sigh, but smiling, walked her to the door. ‘Would you kindly tell her I said Hello? And the sweet cakes last week were delicious.’
‘I will. It was a pleasure to meet you, Captain.’
‘I assure you, the pleasure was mine. I shall see you next week?’
She laughed. ‘You will. Assuming I’m not looking for more employment, that is.’
Now it was his turn to laugh. ‘Of course. Don’t let the old crow rub you down too much. It just means she likes you, you know.’
She smiled another sunny smile and he felt his heart warm under its radiance.
‘Goodbye.’
He watched her walk in the sun down the dusty path, her hair a shining black river in the dynamic light, her hips swaying with ease. When she turned to wave as she reached the gate, he waved back, hoping with all his heart he would see her again.
Braccada smiled at the memory. By Nessima’s grace, she was beautiful. Ilisea’s eyes were the most brilliant he had ever seen -an incredibly deep, entirely rich blue that one could stare into for hours, and feel as if they were rather lost in the ocean on a cool, clear night.
Her son, Dain, had those eyes.
He smiled fondly at the thought of the energetic little boy.
After a few weeks of pleasant meetings, the torture of her leaving each time they met became too much to bear. When he had rather timidly asked Ilisea to court him, he thought she would decline, being newly widowed and carrying a child. But, to his surprise, her answer was yes. When he heard her soft mouth speak her acceptance, he was filled with so much elation that he thought he would float away on the evening breeze.
They had been courting for two glorious months when she told him her secret. Braccada would never forget the tears in her eyes or the beating of his own heart as the truth unfolded itself like a reluctant onion. Layer upon layer of secrets were revealed, and he would never, ‘till the end of his days, forget that conversation.
That was the same night he swore to take her unborn child into his heart and house, and keep him as his own.
That was the night fate and a beautiful woman changed his life forever.
Braccada was glad Ilisea had shared her uneasy mind with him, but saddened by her torment. He had promised to love her and her child forever, no matter what might happen, and to that he would hold, no matter what her fears were.
The next night, their souls and mortal flesh were joined by a sacred matrimonial ceremony under the starry-eyed witness of the Gods, the sweet scent of vanilla candles filling the cool air as salty tears of the witnesses trailed. The beauty of that evening was surpassed only by the bride herself, whose form shone gloriously under the pale light of the moon.
Gripping the intricately carved chair, Braccada closed his eyes and remembered the look in her excruciatingly cobalt eyes as she told him that he had made her the happiest woman alive.
He also remembered living with the pain of the knowledge of her confessions until Dain was born.
On that painful stormy July night, when most of the world was safe and warm in their beds, the grey-haired midwife had told Braccada there was too much blood. She had said she couldn’t stop it. She had said his beloved Ilisea’s fate was in the hands of the Gods.
He had stumbled into his bedroom as fast as he could, disbelieving the midwife and her sympathetic looks.
His room was dark, lit by one dying candle by the bedside. The stale air was rank with sweat and blood, the smell almost nauseating, but all he could focus on was her. Braccada had been through many battles, seen the most horrid things, but this was the sight that disturbed him the most. She was there, pale and wrapped up in bed sheets, her hair fanned about her angelic head on the pillow. She was holding her son in her arms, his tiny, wriggling form swathed in blankets as he grunted like a small pink pig.
She beckoned to him and he knelt by her bedside, tears blurring his vision. He held her hand as she told him to name the child Dain. She handed the tiny bundle to him and rather to his surprise, the frustrated squeaking stopped. Ilisea smiled at him as she pushed a lock of damp hair back from his forehead. ‘He likes you.’
Little Dain opened his eyes and gazed at Braccada lazily. His breath caught in his throat as he was lost immediately in those same fathomless blue eyes that he had first been attracted to in the child’s mother. He looked up at Ilisea and smiled as warm tears ran unchecked down his face.
‘He has your eyes.’
‘That he does,’ she looked at him intently ‘see that he gets the rest from you.’ It was a sentence full of meaning, personal and prophetical, which though it may have seemed rather elusive to an onlooker, Braccada knew precisely what she meant. He handed the tiny baby to the midwife, and she turned out of the room to feed him.
Ilisea sighed, ‘My little Dain.’
Braccada knelt beside the bed and kissed the woman he cherished on the forehead, lips gently gracing her skin there, one hand coming to cradle his wife’s cheek.
‘I’ll be waiting for you.’ she said, smiling genuinely -albeit weakly.
‘I know,’ he croaked in reply, ‘I’ll come.’
Ilisea squeezed his hand lightly, ‘Take your time.’
The guttering candle on the bedside table extinguished with a soft hiss when Ilisea closed her eyes for the last time, her breath leaving her in one long, gentle sigh.
Braccada blinked back his tears.
He had hated Dain when he was a baby, leaving him in the care of the midwife to feed him and take care of him while he was on duty. He despised the baby. He hated who he was. He hated what he was. But most of all, he hated the fact that this squawking infant had caused the death of the only woman he had ever loved.
But, when little Dain looked at him with his mother’s eyes, Braccada couldn’t hate him. Lost in those eyes he only saw Ilisea, and this little piece of herself she had left behind for him to take care of. For him to love.
And so, he did take care of him. And in time he grew to love him. Not for who his mother was, but for the boy he is. For the man he will be.
Braccada shook the ghosts of the past out of his mind.
That was just over seven years ago. No need to get lost in old memories -especially not when there’s work to be done. The General strode into the study and picked up his tool bag, then set outside to fetch the wood he had been hiding at the back of the wash-house. As soon as he had stepped into the glorious light, his mood changed entirely.
The early morning sun was shining bright, and the birds welcomed him outside with their song. He whistled his favourite tune about a dragon who fell in love with a princess as he strode through the dew-strung grass, and finally set to his work.
This is a happy day, Brac thought as he smiled to himself. He knew Dain would like his surprise.
~~~
I was scared. I didn’t know what to expect at my first day of school. What if the teacher hated me? What if the other children were mean? I remembered my step-father’s steely-eyed threat of ear dragging, and decided it was best not to skip my lessons and play in town.
The sun beat happily down on me as I wandered along the dusty road that lead parallel to the shoreline, the waves frothing along the rocks like the mouth of a rabid dog.
When I reached town I waved at the guards I knew, and they all winked back rather cheekily. When they asked where the General was, I would simply reply that he had the day off.
I had always liked Brac’s soldiers. They were loud, happy, and despite always chasing after the townswomen and drinking ale until the early hours of the morning (as I had heard others say), they were always kind to me. The glint of their armour in the morning sun made them look like guardian angels, I mused, large men standing tall, some with pikes in hands, others with their gauntlets resting lightly on the hilts of their sheathed broadswords -which swung at their hips dangerously, promoting a large sense of ‘beware sinners’ to anyone who might cross their path..
My classes were to take place just outside the castle, in an old guard’s home that had been restored upon his passing the year earlier. I wasn’t sure if I was late or not, but just to be safe, I began to run.
Dodging the merchants and travellers in the narrow streets, I decided to take a short-cut. I was running up a side alley when I dashed unexpectedly into a man who seemingly came out of nowhere. I was so surprised that I fell backwards and landed on the cobblestones.
Once over the initial shock of the collide, I looked up at the man, but the sun behind him blotted out all view of his face. One neatly manicured hand emerged from the cloak, and pulled me unceremoniously to my feet. In a voice like gentle rain, the man asked, ‘Are you alright son?’
He crouched down to take a better look at me, and I noticed then, that he had a head of the most extraordinary silky white hair. The man looked at me with squinted steel-grey eyes and asked again, ‘Are you alright there?’
‘I think so, sir.’ I managed to squeak. Surely this man wasn’t real. Only folk in legends had hair like that.
The white-haired man smiled at me with perfectly square teeth. ‘Good. Now, why were you running so fast?’ he inquired politely.
‘I have to get to my lessons, sir.’ I said, still doe-eyed. ‘It’s my first day.’
‘Ahh, I see.’
I was just starting to become uncomfortable, when the strange man turned and called out something that I didn’t quite understand. Out of seemingly nowhere, two men approached, dressed in rich clothes, and I noticed they both had sheathed swords at their sides. Inwardly, I cheered with delight. Only soldiers and men of importance wore weapons openly.
As the two men came closer I noticed that one looked a bit older than Braccada, whereas the other was perhaps not even twenty.
‘Yes, my Lord?’ the older one inquired, looking curiously at me.
Turning back to me, the man asked, ‘What is your name, boy?’
‘Dain, Sir.’ I replied sheepishly, still in awe of the man’s hair, the ends of which touched his knees as he crouched before me.
The man smiled. ‘Very good then.’ He looked back up at the two men behind him. ‘Albert?’ he addressed the younger man.
‘Yes milord?’
‘I wish you to take young Dain here to his lessons, and to escort him home afterwards.’
‘Yes milord,’ the younger man bowed.
I was startled by this conversation, but managed to force myself to speak. ‘Thanking you for the offer sir, but I know the streets well enough to get home safe.’
The man looked surprised, and I thought he would rebuke me for my cheek, but instead he smiled whole-heartedly and said ‘Who is your father, Dain?’
‘Braccada sir, General of the King’s Guard here in town.’
‘Ahh indeed,’ the man spoke, looking ponderous. ‘Alright then. Albert, I want you to escort young Dain here to his lessons, and then return to the manor. But you must hurry; we don’t want him to be late on his first day.’
‘No milord.’
The man stood up and held his hand out for me to take. Braccada had told me many times that you could tell a person’s life by their hands, and as I shook the stranger’s hand I could tell by the manicured nails that he was quite rich, and by the calloused feel of his palm that he was not idle, and still did a lot of work for himself.
‘Goodbye, Dain. We shall meet again.’
‘Goodbye,’ I paused, not knowing what to call him. Settling for what Albert had called him, I said, ‘Milord.’
The man smiled once more, and grasping his cloak tighter, strode down the alley, followed by the older guard who tousled my hair as he past.
~~~
‘Right,’ said Albert, after the two men had left, ‘where’s this school of yours?’
After a while of walking through the bustling streets of Arin, I worked up the courage to ask, ‘Who was that man?’
‘Who?’ Albert replied, looking around cautiously.
‘The man I ran into.’
‘Oh!’ Albert looked decidedly relaxed once more. ‘That was Lord Fale, of the House of Fale.’ Albert grinned.
I had heard of the main houses of Arrah, who were always contesting for the throne of the Kingdom of Arrah, but I had never seen a Lord, let alone talk to one privately.
‘He was a Lord?’ I asked, flabbergasted.
‘Of course. He’s the head of the best House in the whole of Arrah I reckon.’
I thought on this for a moment, and then decided to ask, ‘Are you his guard?’
Albert looked down at me and snorted, ‘Boy, you sure are smart.’
‘What do you mean?’ I asked, bewildered.
‘Well, most kids your age wouldn’t have talked to Lord Fale like that, or even to me, for that matter.’
Albert followed me up a cobblestone road that was covered in poorly dressed merchants, most of whom were hawking their wares from small stalls on either side. Albert stopped to buy two apples, and handing one to me, he said plainly; ‘In a way, yes, I am Lord Fale’s guard. But in a way I’m not.’ He took a bite of his apple and continued on thickly, ‘I happen to be milord’s Best Man in training. The other man you saw there, Tony, is his current Best Man.’
‘And, what does a Best Man do?’ I asked, intrigued by the subject. Braccada was in the King’s personal guard, but he never talked of Lords and Kings and higher folk. He had once told me that I should keep my head under the clouds, and not worry about the nobility of the world, as they were greatly overrated, and in most cases, highly suspicious.
I heeded his advice, of course, but the whole idea to me was still rather romantic.
‘Well,’ Albert started, ‘Every head of each house has a Best Man. Let me explain something; a Best Man is not a servant. His is regarded the highest station of the staff in the household.’ I caught an unmistaken tone of pride in his voice.
‘The Best Man takes care of the Lord, just as the Lady has her Lady’s Maids. The Best Man does everything for the Lord, and in some cases, the Lady.’ At my quizzical glance, he added, ‘Anything from helping them to dress in the morning if they need it, to protecting them when they go around on business.’ I nodded and he went on.
‘The Best Man is held with trust and respect in the eyes of the one he serves. It’s quite gratifying.’
‘So what do you do?’
‘Me? I’m still in training. I observe milord’s routines, and am taught by Tony. I’ll continue to be trained until the day I am ready, then Tony will remove himself to retire, and I will take his place as Best Man.’
‘And then you train someone else?’
Albert smiled down at me. ‘Very good. Yes. Not right away, but someday I will train the next Best Man to the House of Fale.’
I thought about this as we rounded the corner where the old guard’s house was.
‘Here we are, little man,’ Albert said cheerfully. ‘Make lots of new friends. Believe you me; you’ll need them later on in life.’
I thanked him for the apple and waved goodbye as I walked nervously towards the building and knocked gingerly on the solid oak door.
Almost immediately, the door swung wide and in its place stood a rather good-natured looking old man in plain grey robes.
The man’s green eyes opened wide, and he clapped his hands together in delight.
‘Welcome, welcome. And who might you be, hmm?’
‘Uhh, Dain, sir.’
Something like recognition flickered over the old man’s green eyes, but when I tried to look more carefully it was gone.
‘Very good Dain, very good. Please do come inside. Unless, of course, you wish to take your lessons outside in this infernal heat.’ he said, smiling amiably.
Looking around nervously, I followed the old man into the building.
~~~
Once inside, I followed the curious old man down a small, brightly lit corridor. All of a sudden, the wood turned to stone, the warm air turned cool instantly, and I was so surprised that I bumped into the robed figure in front of me.
‘Yes, it still surprises me, sometimes.’ he said with a smile.
He offered no explanation to the sudden change in our surroundings, and I was left with wide eyes and an open mouth, wondering what on earth had just happened. Looking back, I saw no sign of wood at all, and blinking, I tried to shake it from my thoughts. Perhaps I wasn’t paying attention?
The light grew increasingly dimmer as we stepped down a damp spiral staircase. I was just beginning to wonder where the old man was taking me, when I reached the bottom step and he suddenly stopped.
‘Ahh, here we are.’ The grey-haired man opened the only wooden door at the foot of the staircase, and I was instantly greeted by the sight of a large, brightly lit room, with comfortable looking chairs, and several children chattering inside.
‘Good morning class, we have a newcomer today.” The man -who was presumably my teacher, shuffled forward into the classroom, the door closing with a clatter behind us, my eyes still a bit wide at the sudden apparition of the room.
‘This is Dain.’ He continued, patting me on the shoulder. He leaned down and whispered in my ear, ‘Go on, boy, don’t be shy!’ -and gave me a quick push in the direction of the other children.
I surmised there were about ten in my class. There were three girls, I noticed, and the rest were boys. Two of the girls were chatting by themselves, one was sitting in a circle of two boys, and the rest of the boys were split up into two groups.
I looked over at the group with the girl, and a sandy-haired boy waved me over. The boy introduced himself as Lucien. Luc was a year older than I, and had been in these lessons for the past year with Ami, the dark-haired girl in the group. John, a rather curly red-haired boy of the same age watched me curiously for a moment, before asking me if I liked horses. All four of us chatted until the old man stood at the front of the room and the lessons were under way.
I left at the end of the day accompanied by my three new friends; Luc, John, and Ami. John and Ami went their separate ways in the centre of town, and Luc asked me where I lived.
‘Old Mason’s Way,’ I answered.
‘I’ll walk with you then,’ Lucien decided. ‘I live just before that.’
After walking a way with the talkative boy, I discovered that Lucien’s parents had a shop that sold seafood, they lived by the shore, and he puffed up with pride when he told me of his newborn sister Holly.
After leaving Lucien at his stop, I ran the rest of the way home, desperately wanting to tell Braccada about my run-in with the Lord, my classroom, and my strange teacher. I ran up the dusty path that lead to the front door and bounded inside, calling for Brac. I heard a familiar tune being whistled in the direction of the study, so I dropped my pack on the ground and went to investigate. I peered inside the study to find Braccada, sitting at one of the desks, whistling and looking at something.
Brac turned and smiled. ‘You’re home, I see. How did your lessons go?’
I grinned foolishly at him, ‘They were great! There was this old man who took us down into a dungeon, and he told us that his name was too long so we could call him Master Orest, and I met Luc and John and Ami, and John has a horse and Ami can speak another language! Oh, and I ran into Lord Fale’s Best Man, and he told me all about what he does and it sounds exciting!’ I stopped to take a breath and Braccada laughed at my poorly-contained excitement.
‘You see? It wasn’t half bad at all. I bet that was a nice surprise. Speaking of which, I have a surprise for you,’ he grinned, ‘Close your eyes!’
I looked suspiciously at him. I’d fallen for this trick before. The first and only time, my “surprise” was an egg crushed on my head by my stepfather, before he clutched at his side in hysterics. I told him as much, and he grinned.
‘Indeed it was. And you should have seen your face. It was priceless.’ I frowned at him and he rolled his eyes. ‘Oh come on. Don’t be such a coward. A little egg never hurt anybody. In fact, I’ve never seen your hair shine prettier.’
I restrained myself from fetching the eggs from the kitchen to see if his hair would be “prettier”, and asked him as cordially as possible, ‘Why should I trust you?’
He smiled devilishly, ‘You shouldn’t. But do it anyway. I know you’ll like this surprise.’ I must have looked sceptical because he sighed and said, ‘I promise you’ll like it. And besides, why would I egg you? The fat old hen isn’t laying well these days. Waste not, want not.’
I gave in, crossing my arms and closing my eyes.
‘Good. Now stay there for a moment.’
I heard him rummaging around a bit, before the chair creaked, signalling that he had been re-seated.
‘Alright,’ he said quietly, ‘Open your eyes.’
I did as he had commanded, and almost burst with joy. On the floor in front of me was a wooden box, filled with wool. Curled up tightly on the wool was a small, sleeping, black kitten.
‘She’s yours.’
I couldn’t help jumping over to the chair and hugging my stepfather before kneeling to stroke the tiny fur ball.
‘Well? What are you going to name her?’ Brac inquired.
‘Sally.’ I said with a grin.
~~~
I recall the next four summers having the same routine. I would go to my schooling, dissuading Sally from following me, and Braccada would work days instead of nights. I would come home in the afternoon, and Braccada would come home in the evening, and we would cook dinner and tell stories by the hearth before we both went to bed warm and full. In the weekends I would go down to the beaches and walk with my three friends, and we would often travel down the sailor’s docks and listen to the tales of the sea from those who most often sail her. A simple life, yet it was all that I wished for. We lived happily, with only our own company to keep, and it was a peaceful time.
One morning I had arrived at my classroom only to find that Master Orest had left suddenly, and a younger man was taking his place. Master Guylian was not as kind or as lenient as Master Orest, and my classmates would often make fun of him.
After Master Guylian learned Lucien was left-handed, he did not let him write with it as Master Orest had, but instead threatened to tie Luc’s left arm to the table if he didn’t comply with his wishes to learn to write with his right hand. After that incident, the jokes about Master Guylian turned quickly to venomous heckling.
One sunny afternoon, after a whole lesson of Master Guylian’s torments, Lucien was about to explode.
‘How does he expect me to draw the Regional flag of Arrah properly, when I do it with the wrong hand?’ His eyes were alight with amber fury. ‘I’m so sick of this! I’m leaving as soon as I can get into my training!’
I remembered my strong friend telling me that he was going to be a soldier when he came of age. Apparently, that wasn’t soon enough. I shook my head and was about to ask what his father thought, when I heard a howl of pain coming from behind the old house. I raced around the corner to find John on the ground, covered in dust, his lower lip bleeding. Marc and Brendon, two boys from the same class as we, were advancing on him.
‘What’s going on here?’ I asked cautiously.
Marc looked up in surprise, before his shock turned to malice as he noticed it was I who spoke. ‘Oh, we were just having a bit of fun,’ he sneered. ‘Weren’t we Brendon?’
Brendon grinned.
He always was a simpleton, I thought bitterly as I helped John to his feet.
Marc frowned and gave a pointed look at Brendon. Brendon gave a slight nod of his head and started to saunter dangerously towards us.
‘I wouldn’t, if I were you.’ said a hidden voice.
Brendon stopped in his tracks as Lucien rounded the corner. I smiled. All of the boys were somewhat scared of Luc. He was taller than most, and was stronger from the hard labour he does working with his father. He also had a temper you wouldn’t want to be on the wrong side of.
Lucien looked around at the scene, grinning insanely, amber flames in his eyes, and I couldn’t help but smile a bit wider. He really was a nutcase.
Marc scowled at Luc, took a quick glance at me, and then spun, walking off in the opposite direction. Brendon, presumably deciding if he wanted to risk getting beaten to a pulp, hesitated, and then followed after him.
Lucien sighed after Brendon, ‘Such a waste. I never liked him, you know.’ He turned to raise his eyebrows at us, ‘and plus, he looked quite soft. He wouldn’t have hurt my hands a bit.’
We all laughed together, John wiping the blood off his swollen lip.
The following year passed by without incident, until I came back from my lessons one afternoon to find that Sally wasn’t on her usual perch, purring in the sun, waiting for me to come home. I wandered inside, wondering where she had run to.
‘Dain?’ came a quiet voice from behind the dining table.
‘Brac?’ What on earth are you doing down there?’
‘Come here, boy. There’s something you need to see.’
I obediently walked over to the rug before the hearth, and my heart halted immediately at the sight. Sitting on the rug was my stepfather, his legs folded beneath him, his chin resting on his hands. Lying on the floor in front of him was a slender black cat. She wasn’t moving.
‘Sally?’ I whispered in confusion. I looked over at my stepfather. ‘Is she…’ I tried to form the words but my throat seemed to be weighted with lead, and as dry as cotton.
‘Dead?’ Braccada finished for me. ‘Yes, son. I’m afraid she is.’ He sighed. ‘I don’t know what happened. She was fine this morning. I even fed her some of the fish she liked. I came in an hour ago, and here she was.’
Brac stood up and patted me on the shoulder.
‘I’m sorry boy, but these things sometimes happen for no reason. Perhaps Balder found a place for her in his garden.’
I didn’t think the God of Beasts deserved a cat like Sally. She was my cat. Only mine. I loved her and I wanted her back.
Braccada sighed. ‘I’m going to get started on the committal… bring her out when you’re ready.’ He gave me a small squeeze on the shoulder and left to dig the final resting place of our beloved cat.
As soon as he was out of the room my tears started to fall. I knelt slowly and picked the limp form off the ground, holding her close to my chest like I used to, her small chin resting in the crook of my arm.
I remembered her as she was. The sweet innocent cat who made us laugh with her feline antics. I thought of the times I would sneak her fish under the table when I thought Braccada wasn’t looking.
Beat.
I thought of the times we would play with string by the fireside until we both fell asleep, warm and happy.
Beat.
I squeezed her tighter as I thought of the times in winter when the rain was howling and clawing at the windows, the thunder booming in the blackened sky; and how Sally had kept me warm under the blankets, her soft purring comforting me.
Beat.
I squeezed the limp black body tighter as the salty tears flowed freely down my cheeks.
Beat.
I remembered the feel of her purring vibrating through my shirt. In fact, I could almost feel it. I opened my eyes slowly as the rumbling continued. Was I dreaming? This can’t be, I thought. I could feel it!
I held her up to my face, and Sally opened her eyes, looking straight at me with small green orbs.
‘Sally?’ I said in speculation, ‘Brac!’ I yelled, ‘Brac, come quickly!’
My stepfather charged into the room shortly, shovel in his hand, waiting to beat the intruder within an inch of his life.
‘Look!’ I cried with glee, ‘Look at Sally! She’s alive!’
Braccada lowered the shovel and walked around the table to inspect this vision for himself.
Sally saw him and gave a tired mew, recognising her source of food.
Braccada’s eyes opened wide as he looked from the spectre cat to me holding her.
‘Gods, boy! What have you done?’
My smile wan. ‘What do you mean?’
Braccada sounded incredulous, ‘What do you mean, what do I mean? What in Wofan’s name have you done?’
I stared at him as if he had suddenly gone mad. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘That cat was dead! Dead for hours!’ he nearly shouted, ‘What did you do?’
I frowned. I hadn’t done anything. Surely he was over-reacting. And besides, Sally was alive! Did it matter how?
‘I didn’t do anything’ I said softly, unbelieving the selfishness of the man before me.
‘Do you honestly think you can get away with this?’ my stepfather roared, his grey eyes ablaze, his long hair falling down over his face.
‘Get away with what?’ I demanded, ‘I didn’t do anything! Aren’t you happy that she’s alive?’
Braccada shook his head, almost sadly, ‘No boy. Whatever hand the Lord of the Dead had in this day, he does not give souls a second chance.’ His voice had become lower as he spoke, and now he said quietly, ‘Give me Sally.’
I opened and closed my mouth like a landed trout in disbelief.
‘I’ll not ask again boy, hand her over.’
I was outraged. ‘You’re not taking her!’ I yelled, squeezing the cat closer to my chest.
Braccada strode towards me as I stood up and backed against the wall.
I was frightened. More frightened than I’d ever been in my life.
Time seemed to slow down and gave me time to look for a way out, but I found none. The only image burned into my vision was the hulking figure of my stepfather, stalking towards me like a wild cat; his long dark hair flying across his face, his once kindly grey eyes filled with coldness.
I had no idea what to do, but for an instant, fate was in control of my body. I saw my right hand lift before me, palm facing my infuriated guardian. My mind fled in terror as my muscles tensed, and a blue aura filled the room. The air reeked of ozone. My fingers contorted and clenched as my hand drew back. A deafening boom like a thousand ships ripped in two by rugged rocks filled the incandescently lit room as I sent a tunnel of burning white light towards the General.
Time sped up again as I saw my stepfather, caught in the light-storm, fly backwards before crashing into the wall and falling in a crumpled heap to the floor.
I came to my senses as the terrified cat leaped from my arms and ran from sight.
The pain was overwhelming. I slumped to the floor in an effort to keep the gravity from crushing my skull, which already felt like it had been hewn in two by an axe.
Gasping for breath, I lay on the floor hoping my stepfather was not harmed by this errant event. I prayed silently to Dralin that we might live, before eternity smothered me, and I pitched into darkness.
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Comments: 43
Beautiful use of imagery. I only wish I could write moods like you do. It's almost like poetry within the prose.
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Oh wow ur stories are fantasitc, very descriptive writing with good character development, though not too detailed which is great as some fantasy writers get a bit caught up in that. Love it ill have to watch u
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Dang you! This is good O_O *must find time to read more*
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Nu O_O thank you for posting this! not enough people post their writing <3
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woot, great story! I can't wait to read the next chapter to find out about devil child and his mysterious walking dead cat.
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I just finished reading Chp III, and I must say you are truly good at what you do
You are very visual in what you write, which left plenty of fanart budding in my head. You are a source for insperation - and how fitting that you thrown up a compo
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Squee!
Thanks so much hun, it's wonderful to hear feedback like that! I'm so glad people actually LIKE my stories
And fanart? Ohhhhhhh
~K@
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Nice, i think i will read it again coz its good, it making me think i should finish off my book "The Archive" i might post a Chapter up but that will be in a month or less so cheak if ya want, but i love all books that revolve around fantasy, "The Archives; First chapter: Death of the Great. i am so gonna post it 
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Cheers, hun!
Yeh, when I get the time I'll check it out... speaking of other chapters, chap 2 is up here also
~K@
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O.O it is, gesh i just see this one, man i must havee been tired yesterday to miss it.........
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~K@
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<333333333333333333333!
Kat i just don't know how u do it!
once again i'm just left sitting here amazed
you had sooooooooo better send me a free copy of ur future number one bestseller
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ROFL! <3333
I'll sign a copy for you
~K@
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YAY! <3333
i shall wrap it in plastic and not touch it! EVAR!
after ive read it of course
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One last thing though...how do you submit an image (like your 'penance' picture at the top of the page) to go along with your story? I tried before but I couldn't figure it out, I'm stupid I guess <<'
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Uhh, along with the story it says "Preview"... the Preview has to be a certain size or less, or otherwise it'll shrink it.. yeh hehe!
~K@
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Lol *feels retarded* Thanks so much, and now that the world knows I'm stooopid...
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I sure will!!!!!
<3333333333333333333333
~K@
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^^' <3 <3 <3 Come look at my stuff when it's up, I'd love to have your opinion.
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I really like this 
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w00h00!!!!
SO glad you like it!!!!
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This looks like a great series! As a fellow fantasy writer, my own looks pretty pale in comparison
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Hah! awww, just keep writing! You'll find your feet!!!
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Good god, girl, you are GOOD! It took me forever to get the chance to read this, but now that I have I'm more then glad that I did. Absolutely amazingly well done, you have so much talent, it's just... wow. I was quite like being cast into this world you've created - beautifully desciptive, and very real in the reader's mind's eye. The characters are fantastic, believable, and quite likable in their own individual ways - I want to know more about each and every one of them, reading this. Can't wait to figure out just what Dain is exactly to lend him the ability to bring creatures back to life and blas forls off of their feet. And I hope Brac' ok, I've gotten rather attached to him aldready! I so cannot wait for chapter two! More please!
Love, love, love! A 
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Omg, hahaha that's the best comment I've ever had!
Thankyou so much, and yeh, I can't wait to finish chapter 2... all of my friends are bugging me to complete it.... *nagnagnag* hehe,... but thanks heaps, it means alot to me that you took the time to read it.
Thanks again!
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I've been looking forward to reading it all week, actually 
*botherbotherbotherbother*
Take care,
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Yeeeeeeeeeeeah! in the end you posted it!
I haven´t got the time now and my english sucks so i´ll be checking some other day
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Yeh, I decided to just get on my bike and post it...
Hurry up an read it! Muahahaha!
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Can´t wait for the chapters to come!
Awesome!
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I love it!
I want chapter 2!!! GAH!!!
I can't wait for Dain to get older so he can be sexyness... and I can't wait for Iveri to come into the story too!!!
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Baha! Iveri isn't in it for aaages!!!
But omg yes I can't wait to write about him when he's older... he's got the cool-styles
I've only written the start of chapter 2!
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