#and technically i won while cursed so i feel like i should get that automatically | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sheriffkit · 7 years ago

Text

Hey i have a first chapter for my story, please read it here. I’ll also include it below the cut, it’s quite long tbh lmao.

Gambling was an addiction that I admittedly, could not leave behind. I just couldn’t help but enjoy the rush of risk coursing through me like a river as I bet more and more, the stakes getting higher and higher. Gambling was one of life’s many treasures, so I found there to be nothing wrong with merely using the treasure as I see fit.

Now some would call what I do “cheating” but I merely called it use your tools to the best of your advantage. Magus Arthur doesn’t like how I indulge in this sport, he thinks it’s a waste of time and money. Tsk. If he saw how I used my tool to my advantage he would surely keep me under house arrest.

The tool in speaking was of course, my wand. Or well the catalyst in which I produce my magic from, I’m not exactly the best at producing magic from the tips of my fingers just yet. I need a catalyst to help me, at least if I want strong magic. Such as right now, where I am balancing the wand to the side of the table, pointed at the troll across from me. I intended to cast a mere illusion spell on the cards just dealt in front of him. Again, not “cheating,” just using my tools to my advantage.

I muttered the words of the spell to myself, before retracting my hand and sliding my wand back into my boot. It didn’t seem like I was noticed, which was good. I had a perfect streak of not being caught, well...almost perfect there was this one time at a festival in town and let’s just say Magus Arthur does not let me go to such events anymore. Not my fault the guy just wouldn’t admit he lost...tsk people am I right?

Finally picking up the cards in front of me I let a grin creep onto my face, this was perfect. If the illusion spell worked correctly, and by the look on his face it did, his hand should consist of two kobolds, one dryad, and one dragon. Which was one of the worst hands to get in this game. I had gotten a pretty not-good hand myself, but a little hand magic will do the trick. I muttered the spell again and the shapes on the cards turned into one of each. A golem, dryad, dragon, and kobold. That was the best hand to get.

The name of the game, the one I was totally going to win, was called Golems and Dryads. It was a card game with four different races in it, the Golems and Dryads being the ones with the most points, the other two being the ones with the least. If you had a hand like mine you got automatically a set of bonus points for obtaining a hand with all the races, which was fairly rare because c’mon, you have a very low chance of getting one of each card. Another way was to have all Golems or Dryads, or a mix of both.

Now the troll sitting across from me, well his hand wasn’t particularly horrible, as I did play nice and give him a dryad, but it wasn’t great either. Especially against the hand I had.

I threw the cards, face up, on the table in front of me, a shit-eating grin tearing up my face. Those who had been spectating shot up and started clapping. Count Lucien, the troll, looked full of rage as I brought the money sitting in the middle toward myself.

“Better luck neck time, Lucy Darling~!” I spoke in a sing-song voice, I was opening up my satchel at this point, beginning to push in the silver and copper pieces I had just won. It was then I had noticed the clapping faded out, but not like the usual fading out of clapping like...something had happened. I looked up of course, only to find everyone either staring at me or at the table. A bad feeling shot up my spine, and I directed my green eyes to where everyone else's lay.

As I mentioned earlier my skills in hand magic isn’t exactly the best, although it doesn’t wear off in such short amount of time. I reached my hand up to my ear, expecting to feel a big teardrop earring, I didn’t. There are...a lot of factors that comes with using magic, and all magic users tend to wear earrings. Like a wand they can be considered a catalyst, but more often than not they’re not even used for making your magic more powerful just controlled. It really depends on the person.

For me I rely on my earrings to control my magic. There have been times, especially when using a wand, where it has gotten...out of control. But there have also been times like now where it makes me look like some apprentice wizard. Which, okay I technically am. But a beginning apprentice wizard. Which I am not. I’m far from it---it’s just not showing right now.

Not that it’s the point for it to be showing right now, rather the point is I don’t have my earrings so my magic is less than par right now and I have just gotten caught as a cheater. Or, no not a cheater just...yeah.

My eyes wandered back to those around me, I get a small chuckle and looped the satchel around my neck, “would ya look at the time...I gotta g-” I was fiercely interrupted by a knife being slammed on the table in front of me. I looked up to see it was Count Lucien’s stoic bodyguard. I instantly scrambled out of my seat then under and out the table, my legs made a beeline for the exit, while doing so I was greeted with trampling of footsteps from behind me. Crashing of bottles against the floor was heard, there was yelling, tables being broken. Even a dagger flew right beside my head, actually trimming off some hair. God damn it not I’m going to to have to fix that later.

There really was no time to be thinking about hair right now, not when I tripped over myself and fell flat on my chin in front of the door. I begun to push myself up, only to be pushed down, feeling the point of a boot in my back. Whoever that was hadn’t been showing any mercy, as they pushed their heel harder into my spine. To say the least it hurt like hell. It didn’t help my chin was flat against the wooden floorboards of the tavern, yikes.

I felt as a hand grabbed my hair, the pressure on my back leaving, and I was lifted up against the front of another. I could only assume it was the Count’s bodyguard as I was a few inches above the ground, and could feel a knife pressed to my throat. Reasons to hate the rich, they can get away with this crap in public.

My whole body was shaking, and I hated the feeling of being held up by my hair, it was short hair too so even worse. Gritting my teeth I directed my eyes to the troll that now stood in front of me, although I had to strain my eyes to look down so I could actually see him. Short things they are.

Lucien spoke in a gruff voice, “ya really shoulda thought twice before tryin’ to make a fool of me, apprentice.” He then took a step towards me, lifting his hand up and grabbing my chin, which most likely had a bruise on it, he squished my face. “I don’t let cheatas get away so easily ya know, gotta teach ‘em a lesson, make sure not to mess with the big L, ya know?” He let go of my face, and picked up my right arm, digging his sharp nails into my wrist while he continued, “I think we’ll start with getting rid of these pesky hands. Can’t have ya castin’ any more spells ‘n cheatin.’”

Oh no. Oh god no. When he said that I automatically begun to squirm, making the pain from my hair being pulled worse, but it didn’t matter. I wasnot going to let this fiend take away everything I have worked for.

The squirming didn’t help though, that was obvious when his grip around my wrist tightened and my neck begun to tingle. I could only assume the knife was pressed ever so hard enough to cut me but not deep, just a scratch. Things weren’t going great. Not at all. Why wasn’t anyone trying to get involved? Sure he was a rich guy with power but god damn, this was just horrible.

“Ya not gettin’ out of this dearie, ya crossed the Count, ya gonna pay the price,” the ugly troll had turned around and reached his hand out for the door, “when ya cut off ‘er hands leave ‘er in the streets and take the bag with the money, Nine.”

Nine. That was probably the bodyguards name, why a number? I didn’t pay second thought to the usage of wrong pronouns, as whatever it didn’t matter considering the situation. This guy was going to ruin my life and I can’t let that happen, what would Magus Arthur do in a situation like-

Magus Arthur.

Speak of the devil.

I almost stopped breathing when Count Lucien opened the door and my mentor stood there, his ombre hair braided over his shoulder and obvious rage written on his face. I usually find people with glasses to always look calm, even when they’re angry. But Magus Arthur quickly erased that, not even his glasses made him look like his usual calm self. Oh god I’m in serious trouble aren’t I?

The count threw his arms up, almost like a hug, “Magus! Great to see ya bud-”

He was met with the back of my mentor’s hand across his cheek, the troll quickly fell to the ground letting out a curse, “don’t ever touch my pupil again.”

The bodyguard---er---Nine was then given a death glare and quickly let go of my hair, I too dropping to the ground. I heard Nine back away, I didn’t really care as I was now bent over with my hands over my neck. Again I knew it wasn’t terribly cut but...still stung. I wasn’t really given much time to recuperate though, as I heard my mentor speak, “Lita get up, we’re going home, now.” His voice had an anger I had heard many times before, I knew I was bound to get yet another scolding. I probably deserved it.

As I heard him walking away, I dashed up and out the door, catching up to him. It was dark out so not many else were out, it was actually the middle of the night. I had snuck out of the house, it’s safe to assume either my brother told on me or he looked in my room and saw I wasn’t there. Of course he’d know where I would go...it’s not my fault I like frequenting this tavern, guess I won’t anymore now that I know everyone there is a total scumbag who won’t try to step in and help. Also because of uh...the incident that had just occurred.

“I’m very disappointed in you,” his eyes flickered to me for a moment before he continued, “why can’t you be more like your brother?”

That actually hurt, a lot. Iita was just such...a perfect kid in everyone’s eyes! It’s not my fault I’m not perfect like him, he wasn’t cursed with this so-called “gift” called magic! It’s a lot of work to train and sometimes you just need a break...need a craving to be like everyone else for once. He doesn’t have it bad as me, I have an excuse.

Of course though I didn’t say anything, I just continued walking as he continued, “have I done something wrong while raising you? Is this you acting out because you can’t vocalize your feelings? Because trust me, you can tell me anything. I won’t hate you, I never could hate you, Lita. You’re-”

“- like my own child. Yadda yadda I know, you’ve said this a million times,” I interrupted crossing my arms. Every time I mess up he always says something like this why can’t he take a hint?

Magus Arthur sighed, “I wouldn’t say a million times. But yes,” he stopped in his tracks and I stopped after realizing he was no longer walking

. I was about two feet away, I rose a brow, “why’d you stop?”

He had a look on his face, one I’ve seen many times before. Magus has this special talent where he knows when something is happening, something bad. It’s almost like a sixth sense. He told Iita and I that’s how he found us when we were kids. Honestly it’s always scary when this happens because I know he’s going to leave and sometimes when he comes back he...is hurt. What if he doesn’t come back? What if he...no.

“I forgot I had a meeting.”

I snort, “this late?”

“Lita.”

“Whatever, seeya later Pops,” I put my hands in my pants pocket looking away, “I guess we’ll talk about my grounding tomorrow?”

“Yes.”

“Great. ”

Right as I was about to start walking off I heard him speak, “and Lita?” I turned my head back, brow raised yet again, “uh yeah?”

He was silent for a moment, looking as if he was contemplating something, he ended up just shaking his head with a small smile. How the moon light shined on him made him look...sad. Especially with the reflection in his eyes. “Never mind, just get home kiddo,” he said.

I don’t know why but I had a bad feeling, I decided to push it back for now and give the old man a thumbs up. I then of course, turned back around and continued walking home. I heard the sound of fire for a moment before everything went quiet, teleportation magic. Only certified wizards were allowed to use it. My mentor was one, he did have the title “Magus” after all. I hope wherever he went he’s safe. I hope he comes home.

☆*:.｡.☆.｡.:*☆

The next morning I woke up to ice cold water being dumped on me. I automatically shot up on my bed, my arms and legs flailing as my eyes landed on the figure beside my bed. That figure was of course, my brother.

The morning light that shone through the window hit him perfectly, his mischievous grin bright and eyes highlighted, the snow white hair reflecting the light to make it seem brighter than it was. Then there was the bucket in his hands, shining slightly at the top where a few droplets of water had been. That asshole.

As if he had read my mind, he dropped the bucket on the floor and began running. I followed in pursuit, “come back here you twerp!”

Out of the two of us I was the older one, technically. I was born just a minute before him, so I was the older and superior twin. I also had magic! So again, superior. Although he was taller...but aside from that we were pretty much the same! See we were fraternal twins, where in somethings we are the same (hair, eyes), others we were different (magic, height). By same I don’t mean personality wise, god no we are as different as a cat and a dog. He was always so...grumpy, although how he was acting now didn’t show that side of him.

No, rather he was acting like the twerp he is and pissing me off!

My feet clapped against the wooden floorboards, the clapping was louder than usual as I was soaked in water. Which almost made me slip a few times. That boy was lucky I didn’t just automatically pass out when I had gotten home, or he would be dead by now for ruining my clothing from yesterday.

He still was going to die, just not as painful of a death.

I ran down the stairs, seeing the tail of his coat round the corner, “IITA I’M GOING TO KILL YOU IF YOU DON’T COME BACK HERE!”

Rounding the corner when I reached the bottom of the stairs, I was automatically greeted with my brother sitting on the couch with his not-girlfriend. They’re basically dating but refuse to admit it. She had a basket in her lap, and lifted her hand, waving at me.

“Hello, Lita! I hope you don’t mind if I come along with you and Iita while you both shop! I need to do some shopping myself actually,” spoke the half-elf, a bright smile on her face.

Geez this girl. My rage was put to the side as I gave a small smile in return, “hi Eleanor, give me a sec will ya?”

My eyes flickered to Iita as I stomped toward him, leaving wet puddles in my trek, he wore an obvious face of fear as I approached. Eleanor on the other hand wasn’t phased by this at all, she had grown used to our antics by now after all these years. She simply just scooted over when I got to the couch, probably not wanting to get wet, and I merely opened my arms wide then plopped on my brother, engulfing him in a big hug. I made sure to squeeze tightly.

“OH MY GOD GET OFF ME YOU’LL RUIN MY CLOTHES!”

“Aw, c’mon I just wanna show my lil bro some love!”

There was of course thrashing around from him, admittedly he was stronger than me though so he did evidently push me off. I fell onto the floor with a satisfying “thump.” Before I could say anything I heard a pair of hands clap, and looked toward the kitchen to see Eleanor, “if you two rascals are done shall we go shopping now?”

Iita and I exchanged a look, before I shot up and quickly ran up the stairs to change.

☆*:.｡.☆.｡.:*☆

The two love-birds sat across the table from me. It had been around noon now, so we decided to take a break from our shopping to eat. The shopping had turned from buying food to just spoiling ourselves, I ended up getting my haircut again, so now my hair was all soft and cleanly cut. It was more of a trim than anything, but I had my undercut once more so I felt content. Aside from that I got things to restock the supplies for potions and the such, we had been running low on frog legs and summoning powder.

I lifted my pinky fingers as I ate the sausage and cheese sandwich, I scarfed it down quickly. In my defense I didn’t have breakfast this morning and not a big dinner last night, so I was pretty hungry. I grabbed my big wooden mug and began chugging, it was apple cider, not the alcoholic kind though. I never really liked alcohol the taste was too bitter for me.

I swiped a slice of bread from Iita’s plate when he wasn’t looking, I nibbled on it while I eyed around the tavern. This was a different one from last night, this one was actually the only one I refuse to do any gambling in because a friend of ours works here. Or well a friend of Magus’, he was there from the beginning along with Magus, so I would never gamble here. Maybe as a respect thing, or maybe because I just don’t want to screw up and get in trouble. Either way it’s a promise I’ve made to myself, I just don’t want to start crap in this tavern. Any other one I don’t care.

There were a lot of people in the tavern though today, which wasn’t surprising since it was a Saturday afternoon, it was just slightly overwhelming. Don’t get me wrong, I love people, especially lots of people, it’s just...so much. Like my senses felt overwhelmed, it could be from all the noises and smells too, either way it was just a bit too much. I sunk down in my seat.

I gave a big yawn as I begun spacing out, the noises around me slowly becoming slurred together, the world getting foggy. Even the seat beneath me felt like it had started to leave, and suddenly it was like I sat in a thin cloudy mist of air. The only thing that really registered in my brain was the slice of bread in my hand, but even then it was barely there it felt like. I was just...floating with a blank mind.

The world around me changed once more from a foggy atmosphere to a setting I was all too familiar with. My feet touched the ground that looked like it could be water, but it felt solid but gave off a ripple just like water does when you touch it. In the reflection of the not-water ground was the sky above me, or what I assumed was the sky. I looked up, the purple, blue, and pink hues of the sky with freckles of stars reflected into my eyes. This is the setting I was always greeted with in my dreams.

When I first started getting dreams with this place in it I didn’t really pay mind to it, is was when for over a month I continued having it that I thought something was wrong. When I told Magus he was surprised, at the time I was nine, so ten years ago. He had been surprised because I shouldn’t have been getting these dreams until much later in my training. He said that this place was a pocket realm of sorts, all magic-users have them and have access to them at any given moment.

I don’t have control of when I enter it or not, but I know it was mainly used so people could just get away from everything, or to train. Here’s the thing though, only your soul can come here.

For instance, while I am currently in the pocket realm, I’m not here physically. Meaning my body is vulnerable to the outside world, in a way my body is just a puppet with no master. My body is not the only thing that’s vulnerable, my soul is too. Especially since I’m still a wizard in training. There have been stories about magic-users who got stuck in their own pocket realms, their body dying from lack of proper care leaving no vessel for them to return to. Which then leads for the soul to eventually wither off into existence, as a soul can’t exist without it’s originally body still in tack. At least a living soul, dead souls are a completely different subjects.

You can also be attacked in these pocket realms if you are not exactly...stable.

By stable I mean your mental state. The monsters of your mind can take form and destroy your soul, which then leaves the body to die from lack of proper care. Despite all these risks though these pocket realms are still great.

I throw the bread in my hand to the liquid-like ground, and begin running before taking a leap and falling onto a bed of flower petals.

Although I don’t have full control over the pocket realm, more so of when I leave and enter, I do have control over what goes on in it so long as I’m mentally stable. Which I am.

I roll over on the petals, looking up at the sky again, a dopey smile on my face. Magus says I should be using this place for training rather than lounging around, but he just doesn’t understand. Sometimes I need to get away from everything and this place always seems to do that for me, although I don’t control when I enter or leave I always seem to come here at the right moment.

Magus said to be careful about that though, as I could be doing something and suddenly I’m pulled here, hence as to why I need to learn to control my entering and leaving of this place.

Grabbing a handful of the yellow petals, I threw them up into the air. They emitted a small glow, and against the pink and purple sky it looked beautiful. This was something I’m sure I’d never see in real life. Like sure, there’s stuff like magic but this , no this isn’t something that I would see in real life. I don’t think there’s a place on Terra that exists like this.

Of course there were stories about so-called “magical” places on Terra, but those had mainly been folklore, just made up and used as bedtime stories for little kids.

Turning back onto my side, I see ripples in the watery ground as a memory is played in front of me like a play. I loved those made up stories as a kid, that certainly showed here. With both Iita and I under a pillow fort, huddling together over a big book. I don’t quite remember exactly when this happened, but considering we both look genuinely happy and that book was one I got after Magus...well it’s safe to assume it was after we had been “taken-in” by him.

I don’t really consider what he did taking us in if you can’t tell. To me that term is temporary, rather than taking us in he saved us. Plus although it’s not official, he’s pretty much adopted us at this point. After all he has said on several different occasions how the two of us are like his own children, which I’m fine with. Now I won’t be calling him Dad anytime soon, that’d be weird even if he basically is that.

Plus the term Dad has mold grown over it the past decade for me. After my actual one left us, two small defenseless kids, alone in a shack in the middle of the woods, the word “Dad” has lost all meaning to me. It’s just another title, and I don’t care if others use it, but for me it’s a useless word. I can’t say the same for Iita.

I shouldn’t have begun thinking of Dad now though because the pocket realm has decided to begin playing whatever memories I have left of the old man. I cover my eyes as I let out a groan, there had been times where I considered casting a Forget Spell, or drinking and Amnesia Elixir, just to be rid myself of whatever memories I have left of my so-called, “Dad.” But I knew that in doing that my whole memory would be lost, and I’m not willing to sacrifice everything I’ve been given over the past decade. Forgetting the deadbeat isn’t worth forgetting everything else.

Sure, he may have ruined my view of what a Father should be. Sure, he may have ruined my early childhood. Sure, he may be the reason Mom left. But I won’t let these thoughts control me. I can’t let them control me.

I push myself up, having enough of the memories playing, and step off the thick pile of flower petals. Usually I would have pulled my wand out of my boot, but considering I have free will here and what I do won’t actually hurt someone, I lunge at the figure that depicted my father in the memory.

Like most everything else in this pocket realm, the figure was solid and I crashed atop him on the wooden ground. Wooden due to the setting of the memory. My arms then made a beeline for his neck, and I wrapped my hands around his throat, nice and firm. He wasn’t struggling, and for a second, considering this was my first time actually attacking something here, I had thought memories weren’t able to fight back.

Boy was I wrong.

He soon began thrashing when I pressed my thumbs down against his adams apple, and ended up pushing me off. I had been caught off guard, and landed a couple feet away, outside the memory. Water rippled around me, and this time it felt like I actually had gotten splashed with water.

I barely had time to recover, as by the moment I looked up the figure that once had looked like my old man, was now me. I was stunned to say the least, and a bit afraid. It didn’t help seeing the wicked glint in the green eyes of mine, they looked...dark and unforgiving. A scowl across the figure’s face as they lifted their foot and pressed the heel of the boot to my throat. They twisted their foot around, and pushed down hard. I felt like I couldn’t breath.

Oh no. Fuck. Shit.

I began thrashing around as I felt like I was being brought down into the very ground beneath me, like it had been some sort of goo. It had been like the ground had a mind of it’s own, bringing me down the more the fake-me pushed.

I didn’t have much more time to think, as my need for air became more and more critical. I didn’t even have much time to breath though when in swift movements a wand was whipped in front of me, then a bright white light encapsulated all that I could see.

I sat up in my seat panting, opening my eyes and looking around. What in the hell just happened? Yet again I had no time to think, as my senses were filled up again and I the voices of Iita and Eleanor began to register, I was bombarded with questions from the two. I didn’t know what to say, or what to do. For a minute I sat there staring at them, mouth open wide.

Only when I had mumbled a small, “I…” the tavern doors were kicked open. I instantaneously looked toward the sound of commotion, and a group of five guards flooded in, looking around. Everything was so overwhelming, I didn’t know what was going on.

It got worse when one of them made eye contact with me, before waving the others over and the group of guards marched up to our table.

Fear dripped from every ounce of my being as I looked up at them, the only words my mind seemed to register had been, “you’re under arrest.”

Whatever they said or had happened after that was just a blank.

What in the hell was going on?

☆*:.｡.☆.｡.:*☆

The next thing I knew I had been thrown in a cell in the dungeon, hands locked up with no explanation as to why I was here. Or at least to what I remembered, because I’m pretty sure when I blanked they had said why I was arrested, but all I remember was being told I was arrested then it was like a sudden gap in my memory. One moment I’m at the tavern, the next I’m sitting in a cold cell with cobwebs and rats. Pretty fucking awful. Especially if I’m waking up from basically, to this. Well maybe this was better than dying, probably, hopefully.

I brought my knees up to my chest, wrapping my arms around my legs. It was cold in here. The dungeons were never exactly a great place. The guards didn’t care if the people down here were comfortable, after all if they are down here then they must deserve to suffer. Even if it’s for something small as stealing bread. Which I swear I haven’t done. Ever. I mean there was that time in school, but that was in school, and years ago too.

Point is, the law system for crimes was screwed up. Someone who stole bread could be in here for as long as a serial killer, which was just really unfair. I don’t understand how you can give the same punishment for stealing bread as you do to someone that kills. It’s immoral in my opinion. If you steal a night or two should be enough, maybe even a warning if it’s for something small like a loaf of bread.

Then again if someone is stealing bread that means it’s the kingdoms fault for not providing enough jobs or protection for their citizens. Vruviel doesn’t have an overwhelming amount of beggars or thieves, but they still exist. I feel like they have every right to steal bread every once and a while if they are so poor they don’t even have a house. Especially if it’s for a family.

But enough about my thoughts on the horrid system here, I don’t understand why I’m here. I’m a good citizen. Or well, at least that’s what I like to think.

I mean sure, there are a few times where I have gotten into trouble but it wasn’t anything that would’ve gotten me arrested. No rather it was just casting a spell I don’t know how to cast...or being a kid playing in the market and to say the least I was scrubbing floors for a month. My face scrunched up, at least I wasn’t chained to the wall like a certain skeleton friend beside me.

God what is Magus Arthur going to say? The thought of my Mentor rose my anxiety and frustration. He’ll kill me.

In an instant I stood up, jumping to the metal bars and kicking my feet against them, “let me out of here!”

I regretted that automatically, and ended up hopping on one foot, hands wrapped around the one I hit against the bars. God damn it. This sucks. First Magus caught me last night, then I got water poured on me, and now here I am in some stupid dungeon with a newly hurt right foot. Universe why must you hate me so?

I plopped back onto the cold cobble floor, crossing my legs and gritting my teeth. Iita better have told someone. How long have I been here? I really hope not long. I mean I don’t feel hungry, so can’t be that long...right?

Yeah, right.

I huffed again, I could just...break out?

I mean it’s not a bad idea.

What am I saying it’s a horrible idea. Magus would actually kill me.

I was pushed out of my thoughts of hatred for this situation by the hearing of footsteps, now’s my chance.

I pushed myself up, wrapping my hands around the metal bars and even trying to shake them a bit, “let me out! Let me out, let me out, let me out!!! ”

Well the universe can’t hate me that much cause the person who came down here was obviously here to get me, as the guard gave me a cold gaze while sliding the key into the lock of my cell.

“...let me out please?”

Click.

I just about jumped for joy, until I saw a different guard enter the cell, holding out any magic users worst nightmare. Magic Prevention Gauntlets. I’ve never worn them, just read about them after Magus had mentioned them in a lesson a few years back. Pretty much used on criminals who are able to use magic, it prevents them from doing anything that would help them. In regular hand-restraints a magic-user could get out without a sweat, but these have a spell only magic-users in the courts of Kingdoms know. The spell is Evanescent , just like the name means when you put your hands in these things...your magic just fades away, at least while they are in them. Outside it’s back, but from what I’ve read it’s a bit of an...interesting experience to go through.

The guard gave a cough and I almost jumped at the sudden noise, before taking a deep breath and reluctantly moving my hands towards the gauntlets. Magus really isn’t going to like hearing about this. God I hope he got home and Iita told him what happened, I really need the guy right now.

When my hands were fully encapsulated in the gauntlets the guard almost instinctively took a step back, for a moment I didn’t understand why, until the pain hit.

It felt like I was being torn in half, my legs wobbled and I fell to my knees, screaming in pain as tears from my eyes splashed against the cobble floor. It was like a part of me was being ripped out, and it hurt, so much. This wasn’t how it was described in the books, it was described to feel like a weight was gone, like you were lighter. It never mentioned this. This was...inhumane, it was torture. What could I have done to ever deserve this?

What could anyone have done to deserve this? No one deserves to feel like they are being ripped apart, to feel like your very being is being broken. It’s a horrific feeling that the book never could have readied me for, even if it had a correct description...I don’t think anyone would be ready to be put through this feeling.

The pain stopped suddenly, and I felt...empty. I didn’t feel complete. I felt numb almost, it was a sickening feeling. I also felt drained of energy, which had made me fall to the ground on my side, my cheek pushed against the cold cobble. Tears still streamed from my eyes.

I couldn’t feel anything.

I wasn’t given time to even take this in, and I was pulled up by my arms, being pushed out of the cell, I automatically hit the ground again. I felt like goo, but that of course didn’t matter as I was pulled up again, although this time the hands remained on me, and I was basically being dragged on the floor but what I assumed to be two guards. The hallway was dimly lit, and my eyelids felt heavy it just all, any ounce of energy I had was stripped from me. Because of these stupid gauntlets.

I was blinded by a bright light, only lifting my head slightly to see we were now outside, I guess I got one of the cells that wasn’t so far below...lucky me. I let my head slump back down though, this is going to be the last of me isn’t it? They’re probably taking me to a guillotine for something I don’t even know I did.

That was the worst thing really, I’m being tried for something I didn’t know I had done. It was garbage. Okay I’m assuming I’m being tried. I guess I could be jumping to conclusions, but it’s kinda hard not to when you’re in this sort of situation.

The blinding light went away and I assumed I was back indoors, okay so they probably dragged me through the courtyard. But that’s where the guillotine is so...am I not being killed? The thought gave me a small sense of hope, enough to inject energy into my limbs once more. I gained control of myself, and rather than continue to let the guards drag me actually use my own two legs to walk, they still though held onto my arms. I only noticed now how tight they were holding, it hurt like hell.

Now I usually don’t do illegal things, sure I gamble and get into trouble a bit but, I don’t want to end up in jail for something I didn’t do. There’s very little chance Magus has returned knowing him, and Iita isn’t the best at convincing, so the chances of getting out legally were slim to none, even if I’m not facing death by guillotine I rather take a risk than just give up like this.

Earlier I was foolish to not break out when I had a chance, it’d be foolish of me to not try to do the same now with what little strength was given back.

That’s it, no backing down now.

I threw myself against the guard on my left, it hurt because of the armor, but I knew I caught both of them by surprise from the noise that left their mouths, also their hands around my arms had left. The left guard though had crashed into the wall, and groaned, a smirk started on my face only to quickly leave when I heard the unsheathing of a sword. Shit.

I took that as my cue to begin running, although I went the way we had come as I don’t want to be anywhere near where they were taking me.

It was hard with my hands in the gauntlet in front of me, but adrenaline kicked in now and before I knew it I was greeted by blinding light again. I wasn’t out of the red yet though cause I could hear the clanking of the other guard swiftly behind me.

There had of course been people out in the courtyard, but it was mainly maids and a few, from what I assumed, royal visitors from other kingdoms. I again didn’t have much time to think, the clanking of feet still behind me. I continued running and pushed through the group of royals, all gasping and letting out cries of offense. I then ran down the open corridor just past them, inside once more.

I took two sharp right turns, a left, then up a spiral staircase, all the while pushing aside those in my way with my shoulder. It seemed from the noises behind me I was losing the guard a bit...or should I say guards? I’m fairly certain that by now he’s gotten reinforcements, which is probably logical to assume. Although I really hope not.

As I turned a corner I spotted a door open just a crack, sprinting to it I was able to enter before those following noticed. I knew they had left as I heard their footsteps run right past the door, although yet again I was not given much time to think when I turned around.

I was greeted by a very dressed up room, along with a very dressed up girl sitting at a vanity.

She let out a scream.

Lovely.

I ran around the bed to the vanity, trying to shush her, she instantaneously slapped me across the face, I’m sure it left a mark. Before given a chance to respond though she tackled me to the floor, sitting atop me and holding her hand up ready to slap me again if she needed to.

The girl was small but...she sure was strong. Then again everyone’s stronger than me.

“Who are you to dare barge in my room like that?” She questioned in a very cold and icy voice. Yikes.

I was only now getting a better look of her, and I knew all hope was lost when I had recognized the girl to be the one and only, Princess Abigail VII of Vruviel. The blonde hair and blues eyes didn’t really give it away, but the gold and ruby heart necklace is what did. I stiffened a bit, “erm...I am...uh…”

“Go on, spit it out.”

“Ever heard of uh...Magus Arthur?”

She rose a brow for a moment, “he’s part of the royal guard, so yes.”

I honestly forgot that my Mentor was, what with his sixth sense he’s a fantastic item to the guard, I didn’t think the Princess would pay attention to that sort of stuff though.

“I’m his uh...apprentice.”

“Since when did he take on apprentices?”

“I’m a special case.”

She rose a brow, “what do you mean?”

“Uh...not the point. Anyways, that’s who I am, the old man’s apprentice, you can call me Lita.”

The princess stared at me for a few moments, said few moments felt unbearable and I honestly wanted to die. But she eventually gave a slow nod, and got up, yanking my arm to bring me to my feet, it was really only then she had noticed the gauntlets. My face heated up with embarrassment, lucky me.

Although to my surprise she merely pushed me to sit down on the edge of the bed, before turning to her vanity, dug around in a drawer, before turning back to me. She kneeled a bit, and had a thing knife, along with a lock pick. Odd for a princess, but I won’t judge.

It had only been then that I realized what she was about to do.

“Oh that won’t wo-”

She seemingly ignored me and just automatically went to trying to pick the lock. Which was magically sealed, so I knew it wouldn’t work.

Again that’s what I thought until there was a click, and she removed the set of gauntlets. Suddenly everything was returned to me, it was like taking a big gulp of air after being suffocated, and it felt so good. I was still exhausted, and I looked at my hands shakily.

I looked at the blonde who had been awaiting a response, “thank you, Princess.”

Her cheeks got a small red tint, and she stood straight up again, scratching the back of her hair, “it’s no problem, darling. I can’t imagine what Sir Arthur would do if his apprentice was locked up in gauntlets, whoever did this to you will surely pay. I will find the guard that did this and fire them on the spot...also you don’t need to be so formal. Please,” she folded her hands together giving a soft smile, her blue eyes twinkling, “call me Abigail.”

My heart automatically felt like it had been squeezed, she was so nice. She didn’t even know half of the ordeal that I was going through, and I wasn’t a very good person so I didn’t deserve this kindness from her. I merely gave a nod though, “right, Abigail.”

She blinked, obviously expecting more before suddenly jumping up and down, she grabbed my hands holding them up with hers as a huge smile overtook her face, “I just had the loveliest idea! I am to have a ball in a few weeks, as my birthday is coming up, I shall be turning eighteen! My parents were wanting a Prince from the Sledora Dynasty to be my escort at the ball, but I really do not want to go with the man. He is much older than I am and I do not believe in...relationships of those types. I have a feeling they are wanting to marry me off to him, but since you are the apprentice of Magus Arthur I’m sure they would let you escort me!”

This was very sudden and my face had grown to the deepest shade of crimson there was. Was she...asking me to be her royal date? No no no, that can’t be. That would be ridiculous why would a Princess want me to escort her? All the while I was becoming more and more brain dead by the moment, it seemed to be worrying Abigail, who had promptly moved her hands from mine and to my shoulders, shaking me a bit.

“Lita! Lita are you okay? Lita! Hey, Lit-”

“Yes,” the word sputtered out of my mouth.

“What?”

I took a deep breath, standing up now and looking down into the blonds crystal blue eyes, my hands having moved to being rested on her waist.

“Yes, Princess Abigail the Seventh of Vruviel,” then being the master of smooth moves I am, no matter how flustered I was now, I removed a hand from my shoulder and brought her hand up to my lips to seal a kiss, “I accept your offer to be your escort if you’ll have me.”

#oc #lita #iita #original story #original character #ao3 #archive of our own #please read #chapter one #kit's book

4 notes · View notes

gaysparklepires · 8 years ago

Text

11. Legends

“Are you gonna eat that hot dog?” Paul asked Jacob, his eyes locked on the last remnant of the huge meal the werewolves had consumed.

Jacob leaned back against my knees and toyed with the hot dog he had spitted on a straightened wire hanger; the flames at the edge of the bonfire licked along it’s blistered skin. He heaved a sigh and patted his stomach. It was somehow still flat, though I’d lost count of how many hot dogs he’d eaten after his tenth. Not to mention the super-sized bag of chips or the two-liter bottle of root beer.

“I guess,” Jake said slowly. “I’m so full I’m about to puke. But I think I can force it down. I won’t enjoy it at all, though.” He sighed again sadly.

Despite the fact that Paul had eaten at least as much as Jacob, he glowered and his hands balled up into fists.

“Sheesh.” Jacob laughed. “Kidding, Paul. Here.”

He flipped the homemade skewer across the circle. I expected it to land hot-dog-first in the sand, but Paul caught it neatly on the right end without difficulty.

Hanging out with no one but extremely dexterous people all the time was going to give me a complex.

“Thanks, man,” Paul said, already over his brief fit of temper.

The fire crackled, settling lower toward the sand. Sparks flew up in a sudden puff of brilliant orange against the black sky. Funny, I hadn’t noticed that the sun had set. For the first time, I wondered how late it had gotten. I’d lost track of time completely.

It was easier being with my Quileute friends than I’d expected.

While Jacob and I had dropped off my bikes at the garage—and he had admitted ruefully that the helmet was a good idea and he should have thought of it himself—I’d started to worry about showing up with him at the bonfire, wondering if the werewolves would consider me a traitor now. Would they be angry for inviting me? Would I ruin the party?

But when Jacob had towed me out of the forest to the clifftop meeting place—where the fire already roared brighter than the cloud obscured sun—it had all been very casual and light.

“Hey, vampire boy!” Embry had greeted me loudly. Quil had jumped up to high give and kiss me on the cheek. Emily had squeezed my hand when we’d sat on the cool stone ground beside her and Sam.

Other than a few teasing complaints—mostly by Paul—about keeping the bloodsucker stench downwind, I was treated like someone who belonged.

It wasn’t just kids in attendance, either. Billy was here, his wheelchair stationed at what seemed to be the natural head of the circle. Beside him on a folding lawn chair, looking quite brittle, was Quil’s ancient, white-haired grandfather, Old Quil. Sue Clearwater, widow of Charlie’s friend Harry, had a chair on his other side; her two boys, Liam and Seth, were also there, sitting on the ground like the rest of us. This surprised me, but all three were clearly in on the secret now. From the way Billy and Old Quil spoke to Sue, it sounded like she’d taken Harry’s place on the council. Did that make her children automatic members of La Push’s most secret society?

I wondered how horrible it was for Liam to sit across the circle from Sam and Emily. His handsome face betrayed no emotion, but he never looked away from the flames. Looking at the perfection of Liam’s features, I couldn’t help but compare them to Emily’s ruined face. What did Liam think of Emily’s scars, now that he knew the truth behind them? Did it seem like justice in his eyes?

Little Seth Clearwater wasn’t so little anymore. With his huge, happy grin and his long, gangly build, he reminded me very much of a younger Jacob. The resemblance made me smile, and then sigh. Was Seth doomed to have his life change as drastically as the rest of these boys? Was Liam? Was that future why they were allowed to be here?

The whole pack was there: Sam with his Emily, Paul, Embry, Quil, and Jared with Kim, his girlfriend.

My impression of Kim was that she was a nice girl, a little shy, maybe. She was pretty, if not a bit average looking. Nothing about her stood out to me at first, but after a few hours of watching Jared watch Kim, I could no longer find anything average about the girl.

The way he stared at her! It was like a blind man seeing the sun for the first time. Like a collector finding an undiscovered Da Vinci, like a mother looking into the face of her newborn child.

His wondering eyes made me see new things about her—how her skin looked like russet-colored silk in the firelight, how the shape of her lips was a perfect double curve, how white her teeth were against them, how long her eyelashes were, brushing her cheek when she looked down.

Kim’s skin sometimes darkened when she met Jared’s awed gaze, and her eyes would drop as if in embarrassment, but she had a hard time keeping her eyes away from his for any length of time.

Watching them, I couldn’t help but wondered if that was how Edward looked at me, or even—maybe—if that was how Jacob looked at me.

Kim was nodding off now against Jared’s chest, his arms around her. I imagined she would be very warm there.

“It’s getting late,” I whispered to Jacob.

“Don’t start that yet,” Jacob whispered back—though certainly half the group here had hearing sensitive enough to hear us anyway. “The best part is coming.”

“What’s the best part? You swallowing an entire cow whole?”

Jacob chuckled his low, throaty laugh. “No. That’s the finale. We didn’t meet just to eat through a week’s worth of food. This is technically a council meeting. It’s Quill’s first time, and he hasn’t heard the stories yet. Well, he’s heard them, but this will be the first time he knows they’re true. That tends to make a guy pay closer attention. Kim and Seth and Liam are all first-timers, too.”

“Stories?”

Jacob scooted back beside me, where I rested against a low ridge of rock. He put his arm over my shoulder and spoke even lower into my ear.

“The histories we always thought were legends,” he said. “The stories of how we came to be. The first is the story of the spirit warriors.”

It was almost as if Jacob’s soft whisper was the introduction. The atmosphere changed abruptly around the low-burning fire. Paul and Embry sat up straighter. Jared nudged Kim and then pulled her gently upright.

Emily produced a spiral-bound notebook and pen, looking exactly like a student set for an important lecture. Sam twisted just slightly beside her—so that he was facing the same direction as Old Quil, who was on his other side—and suddenly I realized that the elders of the council here were not three, but four in number.

Liam Clearwater, his face still a handsome and emotionless mask, closed his eyes—not like he was tired, but as if to help his concentration. His brother leaned in toward the elders eagerly.

The fire crackled, sending another explosion of sparks glittering up against the night.

Billy cleared his throat, and, with no more introduction than his son’s whisper, began telling the story in his rich, deep voice. The words poured out with precision, as if he knew them by heart, but also with feeling and a subtle rhythm. Like poetry performed by its author.

“The Quileutes have been a small people from the beginning,” Billy said. “And we are a small people still, but we have never disappeared. This is because there has always been magic in our blood. It wasn’t always the magic of shape-shifting—that came later. First, we were spirit warriors.”

Never before had I recognized the ring of majesty that was in Billy Black’s voice, though I realized now that this authority had always been there.

Emily’s pen sprinted across the sheets of paper as she tried to keep up with him.

“In the beginning, the tribe settled in this harbor and became skilled ship builders and fishermen. But the tribe was small, and the harbor was rich in fish. There were others who coveted our land, and we were too small to hold it. A larger tribe moved against us, and we took to our ships to escape them.

“Kaheleha was not the first spirit warrior, but we do not remember the stories that came before his. We do not remember who was the first to discover this power, or how it had been used before this crisis. Kaheleha was the first great Spirit Chief in our history. In this emergency, Kaheleha used the magic to defend our land.

“He and all his warriors left the ship—not their bodies, but their spirits. Their women watched over the bodies and the waves, and the men took their spirits back to our harbor.

“They could not physically touch the enemy tribe, but they had other ways. The stories tell us that they could blow fierce winds into their enemy’s camps; they could make a great screaming in the wind that terrified their foes. The stories also tell us that the animals could see the spirit warriors and understand them; the animals would do their bidding.

“Kaheleha took his spirit army and wreaked havoc on the intruders. This invading tribe had packs of big, thick-furred dogs that they used to pull their sleds in the frozen north. The spirit warriors turned the dogs against their master and then brought a mighty infestation of bats up from the cliff caverns. They used the screaming wind to aid the dogs in confusing the men. The dogs and the bats won. The survivors scattered, calling our harbor a cursed place. The dogs ran wild when the spirit warriors released them. The Quileutes returned to their bodies and their families, victorious.

“The other nearby tribes, the Hohs and the Makahs, made treaties with the Quileutes. They wanted nothing to do with our magic. We lived in peace with them. When an enemy came against us, the spirit warriors would drive them off.

“Generations passed. Then came the last great Spirit Chief, Taha Aki. He was known for his wisdom, and for being a man of peace. The people lived well and content in his care.

“But there was one man, Utlapa, who was not content.”

A low hiss ran around the fire. I was too slow to see where it came from. Billy ignored it and went on with the legend.

“Utlapa was one of Chief Taha Aki’s strongest spirit warriors—a powerful man, but a grasping man, too. He thought the people should use their magic to expand their lands, to enslave the Hohs and the Makahs and build an empire.

“Now, when the warriors were their spirit selves, they knew each other’s thoughts. Taha Aki saw what Utlapa dreamed, and was angry with Utlapa. Utlapa was commanded to leave the people, and never use his spirit self again. Utlapa was a strong man, but the chief’s warriors outnumbered him. He had no choice but to leave. The furious outcast hid in the forest nearby, waiting for a chance to get revenge against the chief.

“Even in times of peace, the Spirit Chief was vigilant in protecting his people. Often, he would go to a sacred, secret place in the mountains. He would leave his body behind and sweep down through the forests and along the coast, making sure no threat approached.

“One day when Taha Aki left to perform his duty, Utlapa followed. At first, Utlapa simply planned to kill the thief, but his plan had its drawbacks. Surely the spirit warrior would seek to destroy him, and they could follow faster than he could escape. As he hid in the rocks and watched the chief prepare to leave his body, another plan occurred to him.

“Taha Aki left his body in the secret place and flew with the winds to keep watch over his people. Utlapa waited until he was sure the chief had traveled some distance with his spirit self.

“Taha Aki knew it the instant Utlapa had joined him in the spirit world, and he also knew Utlapa’s murderous plan. He raced back to his secret place, but even the winds weren’t fast enough to save him. When he returned, his body was already gone. Utlapa’s body lay abandoned, but Utlapa had not left Taha Aki with an escape—he had cut his own body’s throat with Taha Aki’s hands.

“Taha Aki followed his body down the mountain. He screamed at Utlapa, but Utlapa ignored him as if he were the wind.

“Taha Aki watched with despair as Utlapa took his place as chief of the Quileutes. For a few weeks, Utlapa did nothing but make sure that everyone believed he was Taha Aki. Then the changes began—Utlapa’s first edict was to forbid any warrior to enter the spirit world. He claimed that he’d had a vision of danger, but really he was afraid. He knew that Taha Aki would be waiting for the chance to tell his story. Utlapa was also afraid to enter the spirit world himself, knowing Taha Aki would quickly claim his body. So his dreams of conquest with a spirit warrior army were impossible, and he sought to content himself with ruling over the tribe. He became a burden—seeking privileges that Taha Aki had never requested, refusing to work alongside his warriors, taking a young second wife and then a third, though Taha Aki’s wife lived on—something unheard of in the tribe. Taha Aki watched in helpless fury.

“Eventually, Taha Aki tried to kill his body to save the tribe from Utlapa’s excesses. He brought a fierce wolf down from the mountains, but Utlapa hid behind his warriors. When the wolf killed a young man who was protecting the false chief, Taha Aki felt horrible grief. He ordered the wolf away.

“All the stories tell us that it was no easy thing to be a spirit warrior. It was more frightening than exhilarating to be freed from one’s body. This is why they only used their magic in times of need. The chief’s solitary journeys to keep watch were a burden and a sacrifice. Being bodiless was disorienting, uncomfortable, horrifying. Taha Aki had been away from his body for so long at this point that he was in agony. He felt he was doomed—never to cross over to the final land where his ancestors waited, stuck in this torturous nothingness forever.

The great wolf followed Taha Aki’s spirit as he twisted and writhed in agony through the woods. The wolf was very large for its kind, and beautiful. Taha Aki was suddenly jealous of the magnificent animal. At least it had a body. At least it had a life. Even life as an animal would be better than this horrible empty consciousness.

“And then the great wolf changed us all. The wolf opened itself up to share with Taha Aki. Overwhelmed with gratitude, Taha Aki entered the wolf’s body with relief. It was not his human body, but it was better than the void of the spirit world and the spirit of the great wolf gave him its strength and power.

As one, the man and the wolf returned to the village on the harbor. He retreated slowly from them, speaking with his eyes and trying to yelp the songs of his people. The warriors began to realize that the wolf was no ordinary animal, that there was a spirit influencing it. One older warrior, a man named Yut, decided to disobey the false chief’s order and try to communicate with the wolf.

“As soon as Yut crossed to the spirit world, Taha Aki left the wolf—the animal waited tamely for his return—to speak to him. Yut gathered the truth in an instant, and welcomed his true chief home.

“At this time, Utlapa came to see if the the wolf had been defeated. When he saw Yut lying lifeless on the ground, surrounded by protective warriors, he realized what was happening. He drew his knife and raced forward to kill Yut before he could return to his body.

“’Traitor,’ he screamed, and the warriors did not know what to do. The chief had forbidden spirit journeys, and it was the chief’s decision how to punish those who disobeyed.

“Yut jumped back into his body, but Utlapa had his knife at his throat and a hand covering his mouth. Taha Aki’s body was strong, and Yut was weak with age. Yut could not say even one word to warn the others before Utlapa silenced him forever.

“Taha Aki watched as Yut’s spirit slipped away to the final lands that were barred to Taha Aki for all eternity. He felt a great rage, more powerful than anything he’d felt before. He entered the big wolf again, meaning to rip Utlapas throat out, But, as he joined the wolf, the greatest magic happened.

“Taha Aki’s anger was the anger of a man. The love he had for his people and the hatred he had for their oppressor were too vast for the wolf’s body, too human. The wolf shuddered, and—before the eyes of the shocked warriors and Utlapa—transformed into a man.

“The new man did not look like Taha Aki’s body. He was far more glorious. He was the flesh interpretation of Taha Aki’s spirit. The warriors recognized him at once, though, for they had flown with Taha Aki’s spirit.

“Utlapa tried to run, but Taha Aki had the strength of the wolf in his new body. He caught the thief and crushed the spirit from him before he could jump out of the stolen body.

“The people rejoiced when they understood what had happened. Taha Aki quicly set everything right, working again with his people and giving the young wives back to their families. The only change he kept in place was the end of the spirit travels. He knew that it was too dangerous now that the idea of stealing a life was there. The spirit warriors were no more.

“From that point on, Taha Aki was more than either wolf or man. They called him Taha Aki the Great Wolf. He led the tribe for many, many years, for he did not age. When danger threatened, he would resume his wolf-self to fight or frighten the enemy. The people dwelt in peace. Taha Aki fathered many sons, and some of these found that, after they had reached the age of manhood, they, too, could transform into wolves. The wolves were all different, because they were spirit wolves and reflected the man they were inside.”

“So that’s why Sam is all black,” Quil muttered under his breath, grinning. “Black heart, black fur.”

I was so involved in the story, it was a shock to come back to the present, to the circle around the dying fire. With another shock, I realized that the circle was made up of Taha Aki’s great—to however many degrees—grandsons.

The fire threw a volley of sparks into the sky, and they shivered and danced, making shapes that were almost decipherable.

“And your chocolate fur reflects what?” Sam whispered back to Quil. “How sweet you are?”

Billy ignored their jibes. “Some of the sons became warriors with Taha Aki, and they no longer aged. Otheres, who did not like the transformation, refused to join the pack of wolf-men. These began to age again, and the tribe discovered that the wolf-men could grow old like anyone else if they gave up their spirit wolves. Taha Aki had lived the span of three old men’s lives. He had married a third wife after the deaths of the first two, and found in her his true spirit wife. Though he had loved the others, this was something else. He decided to give up his spirit wolf so that he would die when she did.

“This is how magic came to us, but it is not the end of the story…”

He looked at Old Quil Ateara, who shifted in his chair, straightening his frail shoulders. Billy took a drink from a bottle of water and wiped his forehead. Emily’s pen never hesitated as she scribbled furiously on the paper.

“That was the story of the spirit warriors,” Old Quil began in a thin tenor voice. “This is the story of the third wife’s sacrifice.

“Many years after Taha Aki gave up his spirit wolf, when he was an old man, trouble began in the north, with the Makahs. Several young women of their tribe had disappeared, and they blamed it on the neighboring wolves, who they feared and mistrusted. The wolf-men could still read each other’s thoughts while in their wolf forms, just like their ancestors had while in their spirit forms. They knew that none of their number was to blame. Taha Aki tried to pacify the Makah chief, but there was too much fear. Taha Aki did not want to have a war on his hands. He was no longer a warrior to lead his people. He charged his oldest wolf-son, Taha Wi, with finding the true culprit before hostilities began.

“Taha Wi led the five other wolves in his pack on a search through the mountains, looking for any evidence of the missing Makahs. They came across something they had never encountered before—a strange, sweet scent in the forest that burned their noses to the point of pain.”

I shrank closer to Jacob’s side. I saw the corner of his mouth twitch, and his arm tightened around me.

“They did not know what creature would leave such a scent, but they followed it,” Old Quil continued. His quavering voice did not have the majesty of Billy’s, but it had a strange, fierce edge of urgency about it. My pulse jumped as his words came faster.

“They found faint traces of human scent, and human blood, along the trail. They were sure this was the enemy they were searching for.

“The journey took them so far north that Taha Wi sent half the pack, the younger ones, back to the harbor to report to Taha Aki.

“Taha Wi and his two brothers did not return.

“The younger brothers searched for their elders, but found only silence. Taha Aki mourned for his sons. He wished to avenge his sons’ death, but he was old. He went to the Makah chief in his mourning clothes and told him everything that had happened. The Makah chief believed his friend, and tensions ended between the tribes.

“A year later, two Makah maidens disappeared from their homes on the same night. The Makah’s called on the Quileute wolves at once, who found the same sweet stink all through the Makah village. The wolves went on the hunt again.

“Only one came back. He was Yaha Uta, the oldest son of Taha Aki’s third wife, and the youngest in the pack. He brought something with him that had never been seen in all the days of the Quileautes—a strange, cold, stony corpse that he carried in pieces. All who were of Taha Aki’s blood, even those who had never been wolves, could smell the piercing smell of the dead creature. This was the enemy of the Makahs.

“Yaha Uta described what had happened: he and his brothers had found the creature, who looked like a man but was hard as a granite rock, with the two Makah daughters. One girl was already dead, white and bloodless on the ground. The other was in the creature’s arms, his mouth at her throat. She may have been alive when they came upon the hideous scene, but the creature quickly snapped her neck and tossed her lifeless body to the ground when they approached. His white lips were covered in her blood, and his eyes glowed red.

“Yaha Uta described the fierce strength and speed of the creature. One of his brothers quickly became a victim when he underestimated that strength. The creature ripped him apart like a doll. Yaha Uta and his older brother were more wary. They worked together, coming at the creature from the sides, outmaneuvering it. They had to reach the very limits of their wolf strength and speed, something that had never been tested before. The creature was hard as stone and cold as ice. They found that only their teeth could damage it. They began to rip small pieces of the creature apart while it fought them.

“But the creature learned quickly, and soon was matching their maneuvers. It got its hands on Yaha Uta’s brother. Yaha Uta found an opening on the creature’s throat and he lunged. His teeth tore the head off the creature, but the hands continued to mangle his brother.

“Yaha Uta ripped the creature into unrecognizable chunks, tearing pieces apart in a desperate attempt to save his brother. He was too late, but, in the end, the creature was destroyed.

“Or so they thought. Yaha Uta laid the reeking remains out to be examined by the elders. One severed hand lay beside a piece of the creature’s granite arm. The two pieces touched when the elders poked them with sticks, and the hand reached out towards the arm piece, trying to reassemble itself.

“Horrified, the elders set fire to the remains. A great cloud of choking, vile smoke polluted the air. When there was nothing but ashes, they separated the ashes into many small bags and spread them far and wide—some in the ocean, some in the forest, some in the cliff caverns. Taha Aki wore one bag around his neck, so he would be warned if the creature ever tried to put himself together again.”

Old Quil paused and looked at Billy. Billy pulled out a leather cord from around his neck. Hanging from the end was a small bag, blackened with age. A few people gasped. I might have been one of them.

“They called it The Cold One, the Blood Drinker, and lived in fear that it was not alone. They only had one wolf protector left, young Yaha Uta.

“They did not have long to wait. The Cold Man was not alone, he had a mate, another blood drinker, who came to the Quileutes seeking revenge.

“The stories say that the Cold Woman was the most beautiful thing human eyes had ever seen. She looked like the goddess of the dawn when she entered the village that morning; the sun was shining for once, and it glittered off her white skin and lit the golden hair that flowed down to her knees. Her face was magical in its beauty, her eyes black in her white face. Some fell to their knees to worship her.

“She asked something in a high, piercing voice, in a language no one had ever heard. The people were dumbfounded, not knowing how to answer her. There was none of Taha Aki’s blood among the witnesses but one small boy. He clung to his mother and screamed that the smell was hurting his nose. One of the elders, on his way to council, heard the boy and realized what had come among them. He yelled for the people to run. She killed him first.

“There were twenty witnesses to the Cold Woman’s approach. Two survived, only because she grew distracted by the blood, and paused to sate her thirst. They ran to Taha Aki, who sat in counsel with the other elders, his sons, and his third wife.

“Yaha Uta transformed into his spirit wolf as soon as he heard the news. He went to destroy the blood drinker alone. Taha Aki, his third wife, his sons, and his elders followed behind him.

“At first they could not find the creature, only the evidence of her attack. Bodies lay broken, a few drained of blood, strewn across the road where she’d appeared. Then they heard the screams and hurried to the harbor.

“A handful of the Quileautes had run to the ships for refuge. She swam after them like a shark, and broke the bow of their boat with her incredible strength. When the ship sank, she caught those trying to swim away and broke them, too.

“She saw the great wolf on the shore, and she forgot the fleeing swimmers. She swam so fast she was a blur and came, dripping and glorious, to stand before Yaha Uta. She pointed at him with one white finger and asked another incomprehensible question. Yaha Uta waited.

“It was a close fight. She was not the warrior her mate had been. But Yaha Uta was alone—there was no one to distract her fury from him.

“When Yaha Uta lost, Taha Aki screamed in defiance. He limped forward and shifted into an ancient, white-muzzled wolf. The wolf was old, but this was Taha Aki the Great Wolf, and his rage made him strong. The fight began again.

“Taha Aki’s third wife had just seen her son die before her. Now her husband fought, and she had no hope that he could win. She’d heard every word the witnesses to the slaughter had told the council.

“The third wife was no magical being, with no special powers but one; courage. She grabbed a knife from the belt of one of the sons who stood beside her. They were all young sons, not yet men, and she knew they would die when their father failed.

“The third wife ran toward the Cold Woman with the dagger raised high. The Cold Woman smiled, barely distracted from her fight with the old wolf. She had no fear of the weak human woman or the knife that would not even scratch her skin, and she was about to deliver the death blow to Taha Aki.

“And then the third wife did something the Cold Woman did not expect. She fell to her knees at the blood drinker’s feet and plunged the knife into her own heart.

“Blood spurted through the thid wife’s fingers and splashed against the Cold Women. The blood drinker could not resist the lure of the fresh blood leaving the thurd wife’s body. Instinctively, she turned to the dying woman, for one second entirely consumed by thirst.

“Taha Aki’s teeth closed around her neck.

“That was not the end of the ight, but Taha Aki was not alone now. Watching their mother die, the two young sons felt such rage that they sprang forth as their spirit wolves, though they were not yet men. With their father, they finished the creature.

“Taha Aki never rejoined the tribe. He never changed back to a man again. He lay for one day beside the body of the third wife, growling whenever anyone tried to touch her, and then he went into the forest and never returned.

“Trouble with the cold ones was rare from that time on. Taha Aki’s sons guarded the tribe until their sons were old enough to take their places. There were never more than three wolves at a time. It was enough. Occasionally a blood drinker would come through these lands, but they were taken by surprise, not expecting the wolves. Sometimes a wolf would die, but never were they decimated again like that first time. They’d learned how to fight the cold ones, and they passed the knowledge on, wolf mind to wolf mind, spirit to spirit, father to son.

“Time passed, and the descendents of Taha Aki no longer became wolves when they reached manhood. Only in a great while, if a cold one was near, would the wolves return. The cold ones always came in ones and twos, and the pack stayed small.

“A bigger coven came, and your own great-grandfathers prepared to fight them off. But the leader spoke to Ephraim Black as if he were a man, and promised not to harm the Quileutes. His strange yellow eyes gave some proof to his claim that they were not the same as other blood drinkers. The wolves were outnumbered; there was no need for the cold ones to offer a treaty when they could have won the fight. Ephraim accepted. They’ve stayed true to their side, though their presence does tend to draw in others.

“And their numbers have forced a larger pack than the tribe has ever seen,” Old Quil said, and for one moment his black eyes, all but buried in the wrinkles of skin folded around them, seemed to rest on me. “Except, of course, in Taha Aki’s time,” he said, and then he sighed. “And so the sons of our tribe again carry the burden and share the sacrifice their fathers endured before them.”

All was silent for a long moment. The living descendents of magic and legend stared at one another across the fire with sadness in their eyes. All but one.

“Burden,” he scoffed in a low voice. “I think it’s cool.” Quil’s full lower lip pouted out a little bit.

Across the dying fire, Seth Clearwater—his eyes wide with adulation for the fraternity of tribal protectors—nodded his agreement.

Billy chuckled, low and long, and the magic seemed to fade into the glowing embers. Suddenly, it was just a circle of friends again. Jared flicked a small stone at Quil, and everyone laughed when it made him jump. Low conversations murmured around us, teasing and casual.

Liam Clearwater’s eyes did not open. I thought I saw something sparkling on his cheek like a tear, but when I looked back a moment later it was gone.

Neither Jacob nor I spoke. He was so still beside me, his breath so deep and even, that I thought he might be close to sleep.

My mind was a thousand years away. I was not thinking of Yaha Uta or the other wolves, or the beautiful Cold Man or Woman—I could picture them only too easily. No, I was thinking of someone outside the magic altogether. I was trying to imagine the face of the unnamed woman who had saved the entire tribe, the third wife.

Just a human, with no special gifts or powers. Physically weaker and slower than any of the monsters in the story. But she had been the key, the solution. She’d saved her husband, her young sons, her tribe.

I wish they’d remembered her name….

Something shook my arm.

“C’mon, babe,” Jacob said in my ear. “We’re here.”

I blinked, confused because the fire seemed to have disappeared. I glared into the unexpected darkness, trying to make sense of my surroundings. It took me a minute to realize that I was no longer on the cliff. Jacob and I were alone. I was still under his arm, but I wasn’t on the ground anymore.

How did I get in Jacob’s car?

“Oh, crap!” I gasped as I realized that I had fallen asleep. “How late is it? Damn it, where’s my stupid phone?” I patted my pockets, frantic and coming up empty.

“Easy. It’s not even midnight yet. And I already called him for you. Look—he’s waiting there.”

“Midnight?” I repeated stupidly, still disoriented. I stared into the darkness, and I could barely make out the shape of the Volvo, thirty yards away. I slowly reached for the door handle.

“Here,” Jacob said, and he put a rectangular object into my other hand. My phone.

“You called Edward for me?”

My eyes were adjusted enough to see the bright gleam of Jacob’s smile. “I figured if I played nice, I’d get more time with you.”

“Thanks, Jake,” I said, touched. “Really, thank you. And thanks for inviting me tonight. That was…” Words failed me. “Wow. That was something else.”

“And you didn’t even stay up to watch me swallow a cow.” He laughed. “No, I’m glad you liked it. It was… nice for me. Having you there.”

There was a movement in the dark distance—something pale ghosting against the black trees. Pacing?

“Yeah, he’s not so patient, is he?” Jacob said, noticing my distraction. “Go ahead. But come back soon, okay?”

“Sure, Jake,” I promised, as I leaned back into him for a goodbye hug.

“Sleep tight, babe.” Jacob breathed into my ear. “Don’t worry about anything—I’ll be watching out for you tonight.”

I pulled away from him. “No, Jake. Get some rest, I’ll be fine.”

“Sure, sure,” he said, but he sounded more patronizing than agreeing.

I sighed and cracked the car door open. Cold air washed across my legs and made me shiver.

“’Night, Jake. Thanks.”

“’Night, Beau,” he whispered as I stepped out into the darkness.

Edward caught me at the boundary line.

“Beau,” he said, relief strong in his voice; his arms wound tightly around me.

“Hi. Sorry I’m so late. I fell asleep and—“

“I know. Jacob explained.” He started toward the car, and I staggered woodenly at his side. “Are you tired? I could carry you.”

“I’m fine.”

“Let’s get you home and in bed. Did you have a nice time?”

“Yeah—it was amazing, Edward. Like, I can’t even explain it. Jake’s dad told us the old legends and it was like… like magic.”

“You’ll have to tell me about it. After you’ve slept.”

“I won’t get it right,” I said, and then I yawned hugely.

Edward chuckled. He opened my door for me, lifted me in, and buckled my seat belt around me.

Bright lights flashed on and swept across us. I waved toward Jacob’s headlights, but I didn’t know if he saw the gesture.

That night—after I’d gotten past Charlie, who didn’t give me as much trouble as I’d expected because Jacob had called him too—instead of collapsing in bed right away, I leaned out the open window while I waited for Edward to come back. The night was surprisingly cold, almost wintry. I hadn’t noticed it at all on the windy cliffs; I imagined it had less to do with the fire than it did with sitting next to Jacob.

Icy droplets spattered against my face as the rain began to fall.

It was too dark to see much besides the black triangles of the spruces leaning and shaking with the wind. But I strained my eyes anyway, searching for other shapes in the storm. A pale silhouette, moving like a ghost through the black… or maybe the shadowy outline of an enourmous wolf�� My eyes were too weak.

Then there was a movement in the night, right beside me. Edward slid through my open window, his hands colder than the rain.

“Is Jacob out there?” I asked, shivering as Edward pulled me into the circle of his arm.

“Yes… somewhere. And Esme’s on her way home.”

I sighed. “It’s so cold and wet. This is silly.” I shivered again.

He chuckled. “It’s only cold to you, Beau.”

It was cold in my dream that night, too, maybe because I slept in Edward’s arms. But I dreamt I was outside in the storm, the wind whipping through my hair and blinding my eyes. I stood on the rocky crescent of First Beach, trying to understand the quickly moving shapes I could only dimly see in the darkness at the shore’s edge. At first, there was nothing but a flash of white and black, darting toward each other and dancing away. And then, as if the moon had suddenly broken from the clouds, I could see everything.

Royal, his hair swinging wet and golden down his back, was lunging at an enourmous wolf—its muzzle shot through with silver—that I instinctively recognized as Billy Black.

I broke into a run, but found myself moving in the frustrating slow motion of dreamers. I tried to scream to them, to tell them to stop, but my voice was stolen by the wind, and I could make no sound. I waved my arms, hoping to catch their attention. Something flashed in my hand, and I noticed for the first time that my right hand wasn’t empty.

I held a long, sharp blade, ancient and silver, crusted in dried, blackened blood.

I cringed away from the knife, and my eyes snapped back to the fighting figures on the beach. As I watched, Royal’s muscular frame seemed to slim out into a lean, cat-like figure and his golden hair began to twist and darken to a fiery red. Likewise, the old wolf seemed to shift into younger, more virulent form. The silver faded away into a deep, russet brown.

I was no longer watching Royal and Billy Black, but Victor and Jacob fighting on the beach.

My heart stopped and I watched in horror as Victor suddenly grabbed Jacob by the neck.

I did the only thing I could think to do, and rushing forward I raised the ancient blade high above me. Victor’s cold, thirsty eyes met mine and I brought the knife back down towards me.

My eyes snapped open to the quiet darkness of my bedroom. The first thing I realized was that I was not alone, and I turned to bury my face in Edward’s chest, knowing the sweet scent of his skin would help to chase away the nightmares.

“Did I wake you?” he whispered. There was the sound of paper, the ruffling of pages, and a faint thump a something light fell to the wooden floor.

“No,” I mumbled as his arms tightened around me. “I had a bad dream.”

“Do you want to tell me about it?”

I shook my head. “Too tired. Maybe in the morning, if I remember.”

I felt a silent laugh shake through him.

“In the morning,” he agreed.

“What were you reading?” I muttered, not really awake at all.

“Wuthering Heights,” he said.

I frowned sleepily, “I thought you didn’t like that book.”

“You left it out,” he murmured, his soft voice lulling me towards unconsciousness. “Besides… the more time I spend with you, the more human emotions seem comprehensible to me. I’m discovering that I can sympathize with Heathcliff in ways I didn’t think possible before.”

“Mmm,” I sighed.

He said something else, something low, but I was already asleep.

The next morning dawned pearly gray and still. Edward asked me about my dream, but I couldn’t get a handle on it. I only remembered that I was cold, and that I was glad he was there when I woke up. He kissed me, long enough to get my pulse racing, and then headed home to change and get his car.

I showered and dressed quickly, low on options. Whoever had ransacked my hamper had critically impaired my wardrobe. If It wasn’t so frightening, it would be seriously annoying.

As I was about to head down for breakfast, I noticed my battered copy of Wuthering Heights lying open on the floor where Edward had dropped it in the night, holding his place the way the damaged binding always held mine.

I picked it up curiously, trying to remember what he’d said. Something about feeling sympathy for Heathcliff, of all people. That couldn’t be right; I must have dreamed that part.

Three words on the open page caught my eye, and I bent my head to read the paragraph more closely. It was Heathcliff speaking, and I knew the passage well.

And you see the distinction between our feelings: had he been in my place and I in his, though I hated him with a hatred that turned my life to gall, I never would have raised a hand against him. You may look incredulous, if you please! I never would have banished him from her society as long as she desired his. The moment her regard ceased, I would have torn his heart out, and drank his blood! But, till then—if you don’t believe me, you don’t know me—till then, I would have died by inches before I touched a single hair of his head!

The three words that had caught my eye were “drank his blood.”

I shuddered.

Yes, surely I must have dreamt that Edward said anything positive about Heathcliff. And this page was probably not the page he’d been reading. The book could have fallen open to any page.

#Eclipse Revamped #3.11 #The Twilight Saga Revamped #The Twilight Saga #Twilight #Gay Twilight #Edward Cullen #Beau Swan #Jacob Black

5 notes · View notes