Chapter 1 The fire was large in the fire pit at the center of Winds Inn, but to the girl moving the coals around it was larger than life and hotter than Hell Itself. Loose white curls hung sweaty and lifeless, mostly due to the fire, making her look like an old crone was tending the fire not a small slip of a girl. It had only been four moons since she had been scorched from the back of her head to her rump so it was not a surprise to her that her hair, when it grew, was scarce and thin at best, wiry and wild at worst. Following her once lush black hairline was the ragged edge of the scaring were the fire tried to eat her face. It framed her once delicate features in puckered scar tissue and made her ears, if you saw them, look half melted so thick was the scaring. The Healer had said shed be scared for life. That no amount healing would touch her now. Tilla griped the poker tighter, remembering the look in the healer’s eyes. He had wanted with all his heart to do more. He had arrived too late to do much for her mother. It broke his heart too, when the daughter could only barley live. He was the one that sent her to her Uncles Inn. A good place to start again he had said as her little cart was pulled away. Tilla jumped back as the fire popped near her feet. She heard the sound of a couple of coins being passed from hand to hand. The regulars now placed bets on how high she jumped when the fire popped. She was terrified of the fires hungry far-reaching fingers and knew that that fear showed in her every feature. Her feet hardly obeyed her when she moved around the pit. How could they gamble and look on without a kind soul among them or a helping hand? Tilla thought as she had many times before. Because you’re a burnt deformed retch and look like one of those Wytchs, she answered herself, even her thoughts sounded disgusted with her. Uncle Jac and aunt Lily didnt help one tokeen more than minimally possible that mostly meant she worked for her room, food and the clothes that one of the tenets children had left in a room a Moon or two before she arrived there. She herself was the one that shakily tailored it to something that would hide most of her skin and hair not beautiful but serviceable. One of the logs gave out crushing to the coal bed and sent up a shower of sparks. She couldnt help the bodily jerk her body gave that sent her rump into the semi-loose dirt that surrounded the pit. A small cloud of fine dust floated around her as a rumble of laughter and more coins exchanging took place. She stood up and slowly patted herself off getting at the clinging dust particles on her faded blue patterned skirt; it had a number of burn marks and holes dotting it around the hem. Jac and lily had some sort of cruel idea of helping her over her fire terrors and have been leaving the fire tending to Tilla for the most part. Even go so far as to search her out when the fire runs low and the dish boy nowhere to be seen. Jac usually had the uncanny ability to pop up at the worst of times. Not that there is any good time to tend the Pits. Like now for example. Jacs heavy set foot falls made the wood planks moan on protest as his weight came to a resting spot not five passes from her. She didnt need her Sight to tell her what was so obvious if you just looked or maybe smelled was more accurate. He tested his own spirits regularly and they road his breath with vengeance this day. Is there something I can help you with, Uncle? She spoke as she turns to face this new threat. Though unsettled Jac always recovered fast from the un-normal with a deep breath let out in a sudden whoosh that made his lips sputter if you scare him good enough. Surprise was short lived in a place like Winds Inn. Watch out, he cautioned her with his finger under her noise, many more of those and I’ll be having to pay to replace them before one is left for you. I already have to get you shoes before long. Youve only been here for the end of the Moon of Fire and already I have to spend tokeens on you at your first Fire horse fair to get shoes for those sweet scared flippers of yours. The added unneeded insult was a blow that left her speechless; the look in his eyes was that of triumph a shock for a shock they said. His way of showing his dislike of her in general Tille felt sure. Not that she thought much of him. His slightly upturned noise, beady eyes, and even the sneer he had on one side of his face reminded her something like the tamed boar that a neighboring village raised and had brought it to her mothers Sanctuary for a healthy dose of the Future Health Blessing. The family that brought it was extremely proud of the beast and spoke of how it will feed the village through the harsh winter that was foreseen to come. Though she thought they were snobbish her Uncle Jac WAS the prize pig in his mind. The look in his eyes now were more excited then shed seen them before, he tried to appear normal but she thought of the strange rider that had been speaking with him in the back room up till now and daughter that this sudden chat was unconnected. There are four more horsemen about a bell off or so now. Go help Slowen; he should have been warned by now that riders are on the road. Now quickly lass be back before the fire is low the dish boy is running errands to Oaks Farm so he won’t be there to save it for you if you’re gone too long. Jac took a quick glance around at the Tap Tower tables; to be sure they were all taken care of. “If the stew grows cold because you let the coals die ill make sure you get none of the stew. That was a new batch that lily had just prepared and put on its hanging to cook at the fire this morning. It wasnt just dinner for tonight it was tomorrow’s meal and maybe the next if it was still there. She didnt want to think about losing meal privileges she was already getting hungry. Though she felt sure she could sneak a bowl or two it was a harsh punishment indeed and one that was only avoidable if she hurry. She weaved between the tables and patrons. None of which moved aside for her and one nasty even left his foot in her way. It was tempting to step on it but in the Tap Tower that would get a girl beaten. So she hopped over it clumsily and was running out the Stable Tower exit as fast as her achy feet would take her. Closing the door behind her she leaned against it for a moment, hot tears of frustration threatened to spill down her scare framed cheeks now dry from constantly tending the fire. She knew that her father was not very liked in these parts and that her hair and burns looked like the wrinkly face and main of those Wytches but she worked hard and even stopped to help others here or there if she could. It didnt help the way they thought of her or looked at her or even treated her. Buck up Tilla my girl, she thought to herself, a foot in your path isn’t nearly the worst thing to work through and definitely not the worst youre yet to see. So grow up and go make sure that the stalls get done soon. With a stiff back she pushed off the door and shuffled the short way to the Winds Stable Towers worker entrance. The thick door was a little stuck but with a shove it came free and swung open. The warm golden-brown of the stables on a cool Fire evening as the sun was just going down casting a beam through the open gate, lighting the hay in a glow of golden strands reminded her of when she visited this place with her mother before she died. It was a happier time and place then now. Roughly she pushed those memories of the past out of her head before she teared up again. It wouldnt help matters to turn up to help Slowen with red noise and eyes. Instead she concentrated on trying to locate Slowen. The place was huge but easy to look around since the horse pins lined the wall all the way around the Tower with the exercise ring that was placed in the center. The only breaks in the sturdy stalls were the double sided gate the last light of the sun came through and the section she stood at were the small side door on the far side from the horse ramp that take the horses that were going to stay a while to their own little pamper place for the time they stay. There was not that many people around for that time of day. That would change, she felt, soon enough there was going to be a commotion. There always was in busy trade route Inns like this one. The horses that were still there from the night before must be for the tired that needed more than a nights rest and elected to pay for another night. Slowen was not on this level so the new comers were staying for a time and wanted their horses to be cared for. He was probable up on the second floor directing in the cleaning of the stalls since most of the stalls around the ring were taken by the everyday traveler that wanted to sleep on a good bed and eat a good hearty meal at the Winds Inn instead of continue on to the next three day journey to any of the other Three Cities of the Gods. So after that quick inspection of the first floor Tille noved around the ring and started up the horse ramp that was strait across the ring from the door she entered from. The ramp was sturdy and wide, easy enough to take a horse or three at one time. Up there was where the long stay overs go if they are important enough or rich enough. With no horses coming down Tilla could plainly hear the commotion she was heading into just not exactly what was said. It was coming from the other side of the stables. Though it was at times hard to understand him Slowen made himself heard. All the way at the end of one row of stalls was a couple of Hands shoveling the refuse that came flying out of the stall that Slowen and the unlucky fellow must be at. Slowens voice was finally distinguishable now that there wasnt a thick layer of wood between them and he was giving someone an earful. His wayward son most likely. As she headed towards them she thought of how it was too bad she was too young to bet with the men in the Tap Tower, she would win most of the time without even using her Gift. I just have to use my head more often than most to come up with on the fly answers and probability’s to problems that havent come up yet and do it faster than them. she thought to herself. Once youve seen the Future, you will always see the future her mother had told her. The sound of his voice was barley remembered but the words were there and true on so many unforeseen levels. Tilla made it past three of the uniquely crafted stalls before two of the Hands came running out of the stall and past her, looking relieved to have feed and floor duties. Neither looked her way they both kept their heads turned to the ground as they hurried past. He must not be in a good mood, she thought, but then he forgot how to make his lips smile long ago. She had seen flickers of what he did to his wife and Tillas skin grew worms whenever Slowen touched her. No wonder he didn’t smile. Even though she had this knowledge he would never know. The future was a Gift to be shared while the past was not. A rare Gift with very little use if you want to keep your freedom. Those that let the Godlings find them are taken to the High Realm and they may as well have died. She didnt know what happened to them. But she knew what would happen to her if she didnt hurry to take whatever Slowen wanted to dish out at her and just the thought made her expressive stomach rumble loudly, encouraging her to steel her nerves and limp a bit faster. Past the two shoveling Hands and their cart and into the overly large stall whos gate, she knew, had crows crafted into the wood. It was nicely done with nothing very dark or murderous in its carvings just birds in flight or sitting on the make believe fence that the carver carved all around the inside of the stall. The crows sat on it with their backs to a wheat field that just kept going. Forever looking in on the occupants of this stall. Who at the moment consisted of two other individuals; one, the older and all around bigger of the two, was yelling himself harsh while the other shoveled the stall bedding out the door at a furious rate. You’re slowing down and out o breath already!? He yelled. If you haven’t had to run all the way from Home Tower because your sweet heart is slaking on her dutys to talk to you you wouldnt have to urry like you are. At the doorframe Tille tied her hair in a frizzy bun before nocking as hard as she could, it was the nicest way to get through to Slowen that you needed to speak with him. Luckily for her Slowen was probably more ugly then she was that meant that her looks never surprised him and she mostly got the same lousy treatment everyone else did. I see Jac sent a Hand, good, go grab the other shovel and go to the Snake Stall I’m sure you can figure out what to do with it, all of it must go he waved a dismissing hand at her as he turned back to the more important job of yelling at his son, Sper. In the corner of the room near the entryway was actually two shovels, they must have belonged to the Hands that she had seen run by earlier, after grabbing one she hurried out of the room. The Snake Stall was one of the corner stalls where the stalls were sectioned off into more manageable groups of six. Three on ether side of the hallway. Leaving, she saw that one of the other Hands had moved on to another choir leaving just one to shovel out the last of the hey bedding that was being slung out after she left. She hurried past the next stall, which was the wolf stall, and then down a little hallway breaking across to the other row of stalls. Not directly neighboring the crow stall, which was a relief, but cad-a-corner behind it next to the narrow hallway that ran between the groups. It was just wide enough for a single horse to fit through and more than ample for Tilla. Around the corner was the other Hand working on a premade pile, shoveling it up into a hand cart that was placed between the two stalls so she only had to shovel to the doorframe. The Hand was shoveling with his head down and a single mindedness that encouraged her to hurry along and do the same. She quickly lost sight of him as she went without pause into the snake stall with its carved occupants tangled all over the gate. Most of the stalls were done by the Guild artisans as payment to let a guild member stay for a long amount of time. The Towers were covered in unique carving and painting. If nothing else Uncle Jac was sure they help make the place famous, and he was probably right. She wished the snake stall was a little less lifelike, though. The walls were covered in different snakes all colored as the real one would be so it was as if she walked into a snake mating ground. In every possible position a snake could be in it was all here in an amazing snake exhibit that that showed hundreds of snakes. The maker tried to make them unthreatening but Tilla hated snakes and really this was her lest favored stall to work in. She quickly found out that she could still hear Slowen yelling at his son, which wasn’t surprising since the stalls all opened up at the ceiling to improve air flow it’s not like the stalls were closed in. She felt bad for Sper whose father had a word for every moment he spent getting his shit together. Where the Tap Tower was her person the Stable Tower was her home complete with yelling parents, siblings that hated her and never ending chorus. How m I to truest you to take Shia to Shimshee next moon if you run off with every available maid you can, given two tokeen for their company. Slowen raged. The yelling had been making the other horses nearby nervous there loud whickering and hoofs stomping making it very obvious that the animals felt the hostility flow from their stall as anybody with ears. Luckily she seemed to have gotten there after the main blow out because after a heated few moments of a much quieter Sper putting his foot down the wrinkly old grouch was heard heading down the other lane. He couldnt even stop himself from giving the Hand shoveling out front his door a quick you move as slow as me gran before hurrying along. She had made a big dent in her shoveling job, the old hey nearly flew out when it wasnt bogged down with packed horse fesses. Though she had a strong feeling that something dark and vicious was going to inhabit these stalls and her body rebuked. Being a mystic of many abilities and few experiences she had come to trust her feelings but, like now, she couldnt change the future. Her father would say, what must come will. Trust yourself and the future will come. But she would have rather the future stayed in the future so much so her hands shook. The shovel strokes were all forces of will not strength, each one a little harder than the next to complete. Keep those hands amoving, girl, she thought as she griped hard on the shovel so her hands stopped shaking, if Slowen sees you slaking hell report to Jac. She found the strength to keep going when she thought of the missed meals she would get if that was to happen. The vibrations through the floorboards was a fair warning that the carts were on their way up the ramp, you felt it through your feet even before you heard the low gravely crunching sounds of the wheels coming down the lane. She had finished just in time for Slowen to come up the ramp and notice her as she was shoveling the left overs into the cart. He neared a couple more passes before yelling out. All the water troughs emptied yet? His face tanned so red he looked like a painted rock and less nice looking in her opinion. Tilla shook her head clearly from side to side as Slowen lead the hand-pulled cart closer to her. The cart reeked of blood. What exactly is going to be staying at the Inn this night? She thought to herself as the sounds of hurried feet came down the long lane. Spar half jogged around the corner and narrowly missed her in his hurry to get in the stall. She followed him in and went to one side of the five foot long metal trough and pulled the fist size stopper out of the side and hurried out of the way of the sudden gush of water through the chiseled out grove the directed the water to a drainage shoot out the side of the tower. Spar nodded to her as he hurried back out and into the neighboring stall to give its trough similar treatment. Not a moment after he left, Tilla heard the cart pull up to the stall. It took only a moment more for the taskmaster to come in with a bucket in one hand and a quartered hindquarter of a giant boar in the other. He never looked happy but at that moment he looked like he would have gladly smiled to be relieved of that bucket. Some of its scarlet contents had already sloshed over the brim and onto his laggings. The look of disgust was evident in every fiber of this hardened horse master. His face grim as he held his arms away from his body and quickly moved past her to deposit the horribly bloody fair into the newly emptied watering trough. He gave a nod to her as he disappeared back outside to the next stall. Hopefully Spar was just as fast in the other stalls as he was in here. From the stall behind hers she could hear the floor crew shoveling the new flooring. It must be rocks, she decided after lessoning to the tumbling vibrations, for whatever beast is to stay in these rooms. A shiver danced up her spin as she thought of horrible beasts that her mother would scare her with when they were on the road all of which were very much real she had later found out. Now that the stall no longer needed her to shovel its contents she was free to move on to the next and hopefully last part of her job with new horse. Collect the ropes and move to the rafter till she was sure they no longer needed her she would some times take messages to her Uncle from. She was climbing the rope to her favorite waiting spot, where two strong support beams held the main weight above the doorway, when looking up into the rafters her ‘Sight’ played tricks with the shadows. It was something sleek, like a big predator cat with black flames sprouting from its back as it whooshed down on her like the harbinger of doom. Eyes of blackest coal that screamed death even though no noise issued from the vision. The shadow thing dispersed as it blew into her only ruffling her hair slightly in passing. Her mother had told her that the doorway to a home held power; for was it not the first and last place you pass? Her mother would say as she delicately traced the stone archway that lead into the Sanctuary’s Pools. It had always proven accurate for her mother’s visions to come to her as she passed a doorway. Tilla couldn’t tell if it affected her the same, she would have visions any time Crain willed it. Being one of His Blessed was not a blessing for her it was something to hide and fear discovery of. Ever since the border Sanctuary was raided and the terrible events that led to her fostering with an Uncle that would rather be childless then have a scared seerling tending his fire. She has been wishing that she would ‘See’ her doom and finally go to where ever her parents were. Knowing that her doom is long overdue and only by Cains playful hand of luck was she alive. Her visions now centered around the darker cloudy vision that the doomseers see in their visions. Under her the double doored gate opened to let in the parade of new comes. Pushing aside all thoughts of the burning Sanctuary that was imprinted into her memory whenever she thought of her parents and concentrated on the present. The newcomers where all wearing a similar black robes the first rider came in on. Long enough to hide the feet with a long hood to hide the face. Tilla subconsciously reached up to her home crafted multi-layered cloak that reached to the floor to hide her flat scared feet and it’s hood long enough to hide her eyes and veil to cover her cheeks. They must be were all the red waves of hate were coming from, she didn’t know a human could feel such rage but it emanated from them in feral tidal waves. There were four of them, all hunched over slightly or limping as they followed Slowen in under her perch. No vision came to her as she watched the proceedings but, as their mounts came in following their masters she suddenly knew the shadow horror Cain had showed her was a direct warning. These creatures were a dark obsidian, so dark it seemed to absorb or redirect the light that hit them to make them seem as walking shadows might. Their breath came out as huffing black smoke and their eyes were dark holes. From what she could see, and feel, these things must be ------. The Dark God sent these lost souls out to do His bidding, there were several of the vile beasts flying above The Opal Sanctuary that night. Though she wanted to yell or scream Tilla held her tongue her Uncle obviously knew and allowed their present and went to length to make them as comfortable as any other well-paying lords. They moved silently over to the ramps to the upper floors until one of the devil creature suddenly bulked. Only a couple of steps into the Tower the creature threw up its head to look up into the rafters behind it. The Black holes lit with a kindled flame that Tilla knew was looking right at her. It crouched and sprang in one fluid movement it had shouldered its way past the nervous Hands that were herding them in after their masters. One let out a yell and collapsed as the feline jumped high up on the wall next to the door its powerful limbs never faltered as it clawed up the wooden wall is easily as it walked the ground. The man on the ground was whimpering and rocking back and forth, his injury was fatal and he would not likely live the night. She didn’t know how she knew that sense she could not see any outward marking on him. Not that looking at the ground was a very big priority at the moment then the cat monster savagely climbing up a sheer wall to get to her. It was time to move said her body and she grabbed hold of one of two Zip lines she had to go to the other sides of the barn. It was nearly high enough to grab her foot. Its claws extended it made a swipe at her. She didn’t have time to see if it was the one to the side door that she had entered from she just slid off her perch and hoped for the best. The sound of claws splintering the hard wood was like thunder in her ears drowning out even the burning pain of using her bare hands on rope. The best never seemed to happen to her. She had grabbed the one that led to the Ramp to the second floor. Zipping over the heads of the other black felines was not a good thing to do. They went berserk and tried to chase her down like a wounded bird. Though the Followers didn’t move when the first one climbed up the wall, supposedly from shock, they moved now. The Big cats never got past them; as soon as they came side by side the beasts stopped advancing. With their masters hand resting softly on their flanks it was like a call to obedience that held them in its iron fist. The beasts were not happy about being restrained the deep growl in their throats with their long tentacle-like ears laid back across their back nearly reaching their strong hindquarters where their quelly tail vibrated making a strange rattling. The burning in her hands made her drop early, much to near for her to feel comfortable. The cat that was up in the rafters was nowhere to be seen from her quick glance over her shoulder as she ran up the ramp hoping to make it to one of the stalls. Now she understood why there was metal bars where other places let the rafters be open air. Running was near impossible for her burned feet but she grit her teeth against any sort of discomfort and kept a hurried pace. Crain was warning her that to slow down was death. The yells and sound of running feet chasing after the rouge beast told Tilla it was still after her, and coming up on her rapidly at that. Step, stumble, step. The door was much to far but the will to live is strong. Step, the sound of the rattling was making her head hurt, stumble, the door was slipping out of her vision, step. The growl was behind her, the door to far away. No more steps. Tille turns. It’s to late to hide you must survive! She yells into her hazy brain. The world spins as she turns on her heels and instantly comes face to feline face as it was taking the last of its prowling half gallop it was doing as it tried to flank her. The change in its pray made the predictor hesitate, but only for a moment as its long tentacles swiveled from side to side. Then it crouched for the spring its course quell like hair standing on end all around the scruff of its nick and along the ridge of its back. Dark it was to look into its eyes. The flame was a pin point of hungry, angry light where otherwise only a dark hole was. Tilla found that even though she wanted to reach for her small potato knife that she always kept in her belt her limbs refused to move. In the air it produced a dark cloud that parted around it like wings of black smoke. It came down on her with a force that nocked the air from her lungs. They fell to the ground the beast never breaking eye contact as its full weight landed on top of her. Her back gave a painful spasm as the tender burn scars hit hard wood and cutting wood chips. Death waits for you, whispered Crain. She wanted to scream but the weight of such a large beast still resting on top of her. It nether attacked nor moved as she gave a weak whack at it with her fists. Its eyes a blazing flame that ate her will and made her remember that long night trapped under her house rafter that had come crashing down on her and her old mother. She hadn’t understood the vision fast enough to save any one but herself then. She wouldn’t be able to save herself now. Looking up at her death she forced the most smallest of shaky breaths through her gapping mouth, the air tasted foul like breathing acid it burned her throat and made her eyes water. Her mind could only hear that cursed rattling; the sounds of any other living thing were drowned out. Where was help? Why was no one stopping this thing! She wanted the scream but no air meant no sound and a fading world as her consciousness was pushed down under the weight of the enormous feline. Its deep growl was the last sound to fade.
Posted on: Mon, 20 Jan 2014 06:55:59 +0000
Trending Topics
Recently Viewed Topics
© 2015