Just far enough West, off the edge of the once-magnificent land called Aishaya, there stands a town called Maywater. Maywater was a small town, the markets were slow and unpopulated. It was a perfect place for Darya and her mother to hide from the Royal Guard while the Scourge took place. The houses were small and thin-walled, and the only building that reached two stories was the Inn placed in the center of the town. Most of the population lived outside of the town itself in blissful isolation. Darya’s mother’s cottage was a fair distance from the town and everyone else. Not far enough to be considered suspicious, but far enough the Royal Guard make effort not to search it for magical objects.921Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ9y2kKHPlar
Truthfully, the reason Darya loved Maywater beyond other towns and villages was that of the silence that spread over the entire town like a thick blanket. The only noise that came from the town itself was the infrequent infatuated merchant yelling at bystanders to buy their goods. Nothing ever happens this far west, besides the occasional war party sent out to deal with minor barbarian threats.
The most protection Maywater offered was a strong, high wall that ran around the town in a full long circle. The stones were old and crooked, but they still held as strong as they could. Definitely strong enough to hold against a barbarian invasion. Few guards stood watch on the walls and the few that did only looked over the west gate.
A small dirt cart path leads deep into the forest, and eventually, to the small cottage in the woods.
It was an abnormally cold early autumn day. The leaves had just started to fall, torn from their branches by the chill of wind. Birds still flew, circling each other, singing and dancing in peculiar patterns, not yet flying south for the winter. The wavy grass grew tall, its growth unchallenged in the wild depths of the forest. Old and forgotten man-made dirt trails ran along the woods, splitting and forking, making an infinite maze. The forest teemed with wildlife, prey jumped around and gathered food for the winter, and predators cunningly stalked their victims. Animal tracks littered the cold, hard ground, and disappeared out of sight down the long trails. No one knew those trails like Darya.
The quiet stream’s waters rippled slightly when the soft breeze blew them away, and the fishes’ golden and silver scales reflected the glinting yellow light of the setting sun when they leaped from the waters, barely making a splash. The clear waters were cool to touch and refreshing to drink. No one knew of the stream but Darya.
The countless secrets of the forest were known to none but Darya.
The cottage had rough, splintery walls made from an old sturdy spruce tree. In an empty space for a window, some bread dough had been set to rise. A young girl, barely the age of fifteen, stared at it, bored. Only an hour left, she repeated her mother’s words to herself. Her mother would be back from Maywater in just an hour. An hour is short, right? The dough is so unappetizing. Whoever thought this gooey brown substance was food? She resisted the urge to poke at it. If only she had a book to read. No, not even a book could satisfy her boredom. So she’d just stare at it out of sheer lack of emotion. Only an hour left.
“How long have you been staring at that dough?” She heard someone ask.
“Long enough,” She answered, tightening her lips in distaste, and then looked up. “Elias!” She didn’t know how she hadn’t spotted his mass of blonde hair or his brilliant shining smile that lit up at nothing but the sight of her.
He let out a mellow burst of laughter. “May I enter?” He asked.
“Of course. My mother will return within an hour. We have plenty of time left.” She smiled inwardly. He swung open the heavy, rough door and joined her by the windowsill.
“Oh yes, I’ve heard so much about her. When will I meet this lovely damsel?” He laughed again, welcoming Darya to join him. She tried to hold herself back, but couldn’t help herself. “Oh, please. My mother cares little for the Royal Guard, especially their lowly spies.” She pushed him away.
“I care even less, I can assure you, but what can I do?”
“You do it perfectly well,” she said, grinning and shaking her head, a little. “Your trainer must simply despise you.”
He belted out a chuckle, “You know nothing of despite. At the barracks they have their own names for me.”
“Oh, really? What do they call you?”
“Pretty blonde boy is one of my favorites.”
“I like it. It fits you like your uniform.” She smiled, and he let her retort pick at him. “You’re too kind to be a Royal Guard. I’d love to watch you train.”
His smile vanished, “I’d rather you not.”
“Oh come on, please?” She fell to her knees and mock begged.
“That won’t work on a merciless Royal Guard.” He said.
“But it will work on you, correct?” They both laughed for a while, and he slowly advanced on her and pulled her up. It was too sudden. Her heart stopped. His face was barely an inch from hers. She could count every freckle on the bridge of his nose and on his cheeks. They were so close, she could see the outline of his cheekbones. It was a wonder why none of the town girls had taken to him. Her eyes turned to his. His light blue intense eyes held a concentrated stare. They bored into hers, seeking and searching. If it were possible, their lips came even closer. She could feel his hot breath on her skin. He swallowed, and his eyes closed, “Can I kiss you?” He never said anything like that before, he never tried to kiss her before, yet she didn’t back up. Did she want this? Should she say yes? She supposed she could say no and everything would be as it was. But what would happen if she told him yes?
She heard footsteps, her mother was coming. Her heart leaped into her mouth. “No,” She said.
“What?” His eyes fluttered open, as if surprised.
“Quick, just get into the cellar. My mother’s coming.”
“You don’t have to hide me,” He raised his chin, defiantly, “I can deal with her.”
“No, I don’t think you can. Pretty blonde boy will have to wait to prove himself.” I poked at him, and he smiled. “Fine, but this is the last time I’m hiding.”
“Hey, you’re hiding for me, remember? Now get in the cellar.” She thrust open the trapdoor in the floor and gestured for Elias to climb in. Her mother was almost to the cottage now. “Hurry.”
He lowered the trapdoor and she laid out the rug on top of it. As she stood back up, her mother swung open the door. She carried a new straw woven basket in her arms. It reeked of newly bought herbs and spices. Darya’s nose crumpled at the smell of the dusty weeds and herbs. She lost taste for them long ago. Her mother only bought them because they reminded her of the potions and medicines she used to make freely. But that was ages ago. In the stable, whole bags of unused herbs slowly wither away, either stolen away by small squirrels and other forest animals, or slowly wasting to dirt as time devoured them. Darya would sometimes feed the bags to the horses just to rid the cottage of that rancid stench. She stared at the basket with unmeasurable disdain. Another day of food was wasted so that her mother could buy her dead past life back.
“Is that it?” Darya asked. Her mother sighed and set the basket down. Her mask of distastefulness masked Darya’s own. “Smile, child. It is a joyous day.”
“It’s cold,” Darya replied.
“Ungrateful child, have I taught you nothing? Raise your chin. Smile.” She strode closer to Darya and touched her pale cheek. Darya sighed and looked down at the basket. Inside, something metal shimmered, reflecting the sun’s light. Most likely a charm to dispel evil spirits. Her mother believed firmly in those things. Of course, she did. She used to be of the Eithe, a Sorcerer of the West. Darya sighed, if only her mother could forget that magic was ever here. Magic was gone for fifteen years, but her mother still hoped for just a thread of magic to exist. She bore the weight of someone who used to be carefree and beautiful. Now, she’s worn from everything that happened to this cursed land. She’s worn from a hopeless hope.
Sure, Darya wished to learn magic, she wished to learn magic since she was a child. But she knew what it did to people. No, magic didn’t do this to people. The Scourge did. Curse the Queen of Aishaya. Curse whatever drove her to kill thousands of Sorcerers. Because there had to be something unless she was a madwoman. But she was too smart to be insane. She probably just wanted magic for her own. Just because she wasn’t born into Sorcery.
Her mother caught her where her eyes wandered and pulled a charm from the basket, as Darya suspected. It was gleaming with pure silver, it must have cost her mother a fortune. Carvings line it in surprising beautiful care and mastery. It is of her great-grandfather, Eithin, who was proclaimed the god of magic soon after his death. Darya doubted he was really a god, he was just a brilliant man, like an alchemist. He had his share of crimes and sins he committed, but he made an incredible discovery. No one could deny that, not even the queen. His face looked realistic and alive, as if the carver knew him.
After the Scourge, worship of Eithin was forbidden, and whoever was found practicing magic’s punishment was worse than death. Only a fool would sell a charm of the god of magic, and only her mother would buy them.
Her mother held it out to her, and it swung on its chain for a while. Darya was tempted to refuse it. She hated when her mother handed these things as if they were religious symbols. They were ugly and cold. But this one held a certain appeal to it. It shimmered beautifully, reflecting the sun’s pale rays. The eyes of her great-grandfather bored into hers, as if forcing her to take it. These things unnerved her, she would rid herself of it later. She outstretched her hand and took it. Something inside her awoke by just touching it.
“This is no normal charm, child,” her mother told her. Darya lit up her face and pretended to beam with excitement. Maybe this one could supposedly give me the ability to fly.
“Truthfully?” Darya asked.
“Indeed. It will help you learn what you need to learn.” Her mother smiled and tapped the bridge of her nose, as if there was something else Darya misunderstood. As if just a flash of Darya’s imagination, her smile faded instantly. Darya knew why. She heard a squeak of the floorboards under them. The cellar. Elias.
“Child, is someone here?” Her mother’s eyes pierced the trapdoor to the cellar and then to Darya’s. Her voice was full of jabbing accusations.
“No, no!” Darya said quickly, her voice was full of desperation. “Of course not!” Her mother looked at her strangely. Darya prayed her mother couldn’t see through her reaction.
“Truthfully?”
Darya gulped. Her voice came out as just a whisper. “Yes mother.” She hoped she didn’t wince when she said it. She never lied to her mother. She never lied at all. Her mother’s eyes bored into hers, first unbelieving.
After what seemed like hours, her mother responded and peeled her eyes off the trapdoor, “Alright.” Darya tried to hide her relief. Her mother continued, “It will teach you all you need to learn about magic. It will strengthen you. I have one of my own.” She lifted one from under her shirt. Hers was emerald. It was carved into a star and shined a glimmering green dim light. Everything about it was strange, unnatural. Like a silhouette. “From this day forward, I will teach you the art of magic.”
This time her excitement wasn’t fake. She couldn’t believe it. After all these years she would finally learn magic. She would be a Sorcerer. Her smile stretched across her face, and she ran and embraced her mother. Her eagerness was unmatchable. Until she realized that Elias was downstairs, and he heard every word that was said.
He was a Royal Guard. He was a spy for the Royal Guard. It was his job to report Sorcerers. Her mother was a Sorcerer. The reality hit her like a dagger to her chest. There was a door from the cellar to the woods. He was probably already on his way to the Royal Guard now. Her mother and she would be arrested and killed. Why couldn’t she have just told the truth to her mother? It’s strange how when one is questioned, his first instinct is to lie. This was all her fault. She almost found herself telling her mother the truth. But she couldn’t. Was this lie so important to her?
“What’s the matter, child,” Her mother said, “are you not joyous?” Darya didn’t know what to say. What could she say?
“Indeed I am,” Darya stammered, “but I have to leave.”
“Why?” Her mother asked. “Do you not wish this?” Darya could see the sadness in her mother’s eyes. Sadness because of her.
“I do. I swear I do.” She turned and ran out the heavy spruce door. But when she ran to the cellar door, she found it open and the cellar empty.921Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡomjZjCR0nQ
Hello all, so what'd ya think of the first Chapter? Do you think I'll focus more on Darya or Elias in chapters to come? Do you think there is possibly a romance blooming between them? I'd love to hear your thoughts, encouragements, and criticisms in order to strengthen my writing. 921Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡK8xaq3XXjm
If you liked it feel free to leave a like! Or don't, but it helps to know whether or not it is worth it continuing the series.921Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡFTaHLrvap8
If I get to it, there's gonna be a bumpy ride to come!921Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡwUmmWCne1F
-Joey B. Roberts921Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡZlNhIoswHZ
