Chronicles of Den'dra: A land on Fire

by Spencer Johnson

  “I believe that it was our fault.” Em’risi was about to attempt further explanation but lost control of the giggle when she saw the pained look cross Alvin’s face.

  “I humbly request that you don’t involve me in your experiments. At least give me fair warning next time, please.”

  “I am sorry Alvin. I didn’t realize that he would have that much of an effect on you, but you have to admit that it was a little funny. Alvin the mighty slayer of shadows.”

  “The sincerity of your apology is touching. Are you done with Corman yet or do you intend any further experiments?” Alvin inquired with a raised eyebrow.

  “It is all right Corman. I am sure that he will only lightly bruise you while showing everyone some new move.” Em’risi gave Alvin a pointed look that received a frustrated scowl in return.

  “Fine. Come on Corman. Let us see exactly how good you are with that straight sword.” Alvin shook a couple kinks out of his shoulders before noticing the last of the Gifted recruits quietly leaning against the wall in a corner. It only took him making eye contact and nodding towards Em’risi before the man moved over to her desk.

  “What is your name?”

  “Landin.”

  “Do you know what your Gift is?” Em’risi busied herself observing his colors as she waited for him to respond. They were deep browns laced with milky white and burnt umber and ocher that glowed like a stained glass window. There were ruby red tints, flecks of blue diamond and faint streaks of emerald green. It wasn’t drawn to other people’s energy, but seemed to simply sink into the ground.

  “I can move things.”

  “Would you like to show me?” Landin responded by stooping down to pick up a small stone and placing it on the table. Holding his hand over it caused several strands of energy to ensnare the stone. Moving his hand caused the stone to maintain its position in relation to his hand. Without seeing the stands of energy that were suspending it, one would only see a stone floating in midair. Clenching his fist caused the strands of energy to constrict around the stone until it crumbled into fragments.

  “I haven’t been able to move anything other than stone.”

  “I doubt that you can. Your energy seems to be in tune with the earth element.”

  “Really?” Landin sounded disappointed.

  “It is nothing to be ashamed of. Earth is one of the primordial elements. Water, fire and air are the other three and of them all it, seems that fire is the most common. Halden is a primordial pyromancer while you are a primordial teramorpher. Savaro, I believe, is another one. Not quite as pure as you or Halden, but still fairly in tune with the air elements with a hint of water colors. Primordial energy benders are often the strongest and being able to achieve a mastery of that element gifts great power. The difference that I have seen is that most Gifted are only able to manipulate one or two aspects of their field while primordial benders are able to manipulate the entire element.”

  “How does that work? I mean being only able to manipulate a portion of an element.”

  “Well for example, Halden has reds, yellows and hints of every other shade that you can associate with fire. Exceptionally well-tuned with the element. The other two pyromancers that I have seen were limited mainly to red with minute shades of yellow. They were able to manipulate heat and sustain flames for limited time, but it took a great deal more effort for them than for Halden.”

  “So what are my colors?”

  “I see glowing browns and yellows with veins of quartz and milky white agate. There are russets and hints of the gem colors. Flickers of ruby and topaz with streaks of gold and obsidian. The ruby red is not like the reds associated with fire, but everything looks like it is a constantly changing picture painted on glass backlit by the sun.”

  “Sounds beautiful. What else do you think I can do?”

  “Your potential is infinite. With enough practice, I don’t see anything that you can’t do with the earth element.”

  “Thank you. After Alvin gets done with me, I will start practicing. It is nice to be able to stop hiding my Gift.”

  “Sounds like a good plan. Usually I am the one telling people that they need to practice. Saves me work when people have initiative. There is a number of people working on rebuilding the wall. It involves a lot of stone and you might be able to assist while honing your talents.” Em’risi dismissed Landin and watched the men practice with their weapon choices for a while. Alvin kept them busy until the time the sun began setting.

  “So, my princess, what weapon do you think suits you?” Alvin caught Em’risi as she was about to leave the courtyard.

  “I don’t think it would be appropriate for me. My specialty is with Gifts, not these weapons.”

  “I once knew a girl that could wield a skillet with a high degree of grace and skill when it came to combat. I have seen you ride a horse like you were born to it so I see no reason why you shouldn’t be able to defend yourself should your guards become… distracted.”

  “Why Alvin, you sound like I will be in the thick of the battle when the time comes.”

  “I know you and I also know that I have not the mental fortitude necessary to keep you from it. Short of trussing you hand and foot in a maid’s closet, I see no way of keeping you out of harm’s way.”

  “If you lay one finger on me in such an endeavor…”

  “You will what? Do to me what you did to Varis?”

  “Maybe.”

  “If I may presume, do you actually know how you did it in the first place?”

  “I touched his energy and it happened.” Em’risi deigned to examine the weapons displayed in the rack. A smaller sword caught her eye. Picking it up, she casually examined it. It was a half again as long as her forearm and crafted of a gray metal that shone in the waning light. The blade was a long slender oval shape. A hand span from the tip of the blade was the widest and thickest section and from there, it reduced in thickness and width until a hand span from the guard where an ornate engraving was etched into the reinforcing metal. Despite the shape, it still felt balanced.

  “I took up riding when I was a little girl. Did it in secret with Aleest for years. Even my father would have been alarmed if he had known my exploits through the woods in the guise of a peasant girl. While in the castle, I was the princess that propriety demanded. No one ever guessed that I had ever sat a horse without a side saddle or a groom holding the lead. None suspected that I had ridden many times without a saddle. Even Balinor was shocked that I would rather ride a horse with a traditional saddle over riding in a carriage. Tell me about this blade. It fits my hand well.”

  “My princess, you have a keen eye for weapons. I picked it out from the smith with you in mind. A woman’s blade to be sure. Light and balanced. The section towards the tip allows the weight to be kept down while still retaining the ability to deliver a telling blow. This guard protects one’s hand well while this blunted section here doubles as a counter weight and an additional reinforcement. With it, you can easily dent a helm or knock any poorly held weapon out of an attacker’s hand. In reality this blade only serves as half the battle gear of a warrior.”

  “Oh? Pray tell, what it the other half?”

  “The weapon smith that I purchased it from told me that he fashioned it after a mural of a shield maiden that won fame fighting in the last of the Millennium Wars.”

  “A shield maiden. Fitting I suppose; although, I have difficulty picturing myself bearing a shield and sword into battle.”

  “The shield and armor that I left him working on is light yet durable so it shouldn’t impede you much.”

  “Armor? You do have a sense of humor.”

  “I find nothing funny when it comes to matters pertaining to your safety.”

  “Relax Alvin, I shan’t be throwing myself on the nearest blade when the occasion arises.” Em’risi experimented with a couple stances that she had observed the men practicing.

  “If I may, I know that my color is gray while Halden�
�s are reds and yellows. I overheard you telling Landin what his colors are, but what colors are your energy?”

  “I had never thought about it. To tell the truth, I do not know. I have never seen my energy.”

  “Surely being Gifted, you have energy like the rest of us and if I were to guess, I would say that it is the same color as your eyes.” Em’risi laid the sword back on the rack and held out her hands to examine in the fading light.

  “I can’t see anything. Your energy is like a thin gray fog emanating from your skin, but there is no light visible around my skin.”

  “Varis told me that he saw a cloud of amethyst light surround your hand just before he felt like a bucket of ice water had been thrown in his face. Corman described something similar; however, he didn’t get the shock that Varis did and he said that is shifted to an ashy purple color for a few seconds.”

  “So you weren’t guessing.” Alvin looked uncomfortable after Em’risi’s accusation until she smiled good-naturedly.

  “Can I try something?”

  “If I had a copper for every time that I heard that today… I would have three or four coppers. Go ahead if you like.”

  “All right.” Alvin picked up a pebble and lifted it into the air with his energy. It slowly floated over until it was hovering in front of Em’risi. She reached out and touched the gray mass of energy strands that were entwined around the pebble. It was almost like she could feel them. Tiny threads that resisted her touch. A thickness to the air around the pebble.

  “I see it. Really faintly, but your hand has a slight lavender glow to it.” Em’risi focused on her hand and was able to make out the faint stands of energy that were extending towards Alvin’s. Playing with them, she focused and found that they moved with her thoughts. It didn’t take much focus before they became more defined. With these strands of energy obeying her, she stopped their attraction to Alvin’s energy and he confirmed that he couldn’t see the light any longer. Fascinated, Em’risi copied Alvin’s weaves around the pebble. Hearing a gasp she refocused on Alvin’s shadowy face.

  “I am not holding the rock anymore.” Em’risi glanced back at the rock that remained floating before her for a couple more seconds before it returning to the dominion of gravity and fell to the ground.

  “How did you do that? I stopped holding the rock, but you kept it from falling.”

  “I don’t know. I was just copying what you were doing. I wove the strands of energy around the rock just like you had. I don’t know what you were meaning when you talked about amethyst energy. What I saw was almost the same color as yours only a little tinted with purple, but… now there isn’t anything.”

  “I wonder…”

  “What do you wonder?”

  “I wonder if you are changing your energy to match other peoples. If that is the case, then maybe you can do what they can as well.”

  “That is an interesting thought. I will explore it further tomorrow. The sun is set and if we don’t find a torch soon, we will have to feel our way through the castle to the kitchens to get the last of the soup scraped from the bottom of the cauldron. Have you ever noticed that the beginnings and ends of the lines are always the most sparsely populated?”

  “It is not that complicated. You see, the cooks start serving before the soup is done all the way. The ones in the middle of the line get cooked soup and the ones at the end get the burnt remnants.” Alvin grimaced at the thought of the stew caldron’s dregs.

  “Perhaps I can persuade the cooks to let us have some bread and cheese.” Em’risi laughed at the appalled glance she got from Alvin.

  “I doubt very much that they would allow you to escape with such a meager meal.” Alvin disapproved nearly as much as Redzyn would if he knew that the Princess was taking her meals with the men.

  Chapter Thirteen: Tragedy

  I have few memories of my early childhood. Odd… seeing as most of the rest of my life can be recalled in sharp detail. There are a few details that stand out of the haze that hides these memories. My earliest memories were of walking with my mother down the road towards town. The ground crunched with every step because of the film of ice that covered the mud. I know that my mother was wearing my father’s old cloak while I wore the cloak that she had previously worn. She had cut it down to my size and hemmed up the edges. It was thin and struggled valiantly to keep out the chilly wind that cut across the icy fields. I know that the reason that my mother was wearing my father’s cloak was that he had died. I don’t remember how he died, but only that he had before that walk.

  I remember being thin and that my stomach was growling from hunger. I knew better than to ask for food because I still had the fading remnants of the bruise earned the last time I had complained of hunger. Since father’s death, there had been little to eat. I recall having been so hungry that I had tried eating grass after watching a cow happily munching in her field. It hadn’t tasted very good and had stained my teeth green enough to earn one of mother’s screaming fits. It was little things like my mother giving me the cloak before we set out that day that confused me. I wondered if she had gone back to being like she had been before father died.

  That moment is crystal clear in my memory. Every sensation and thought is as fresh as what happened three days ago. As clear as that moment was, the years leading up to that cold walk are a blur. As is the hours after. There are fragments that I can recall from the days that followed. I remember being in town. Mother was talking to a bald man with three parallel scars on his shiny scalp. The way he looked at me made me uncomfortable. Then there was the confusing moment when mother pressed a few pieces of stale bread into my hand and gave me a hug. She promised to visit me when she could get into town.

  It wasn’t until I had been riding with the four other girls in the bald man’s wagon for five days that I realized I would probably never see mother again. Even then, the full picture was as good as invisible to me as a naive little girl. I had seen the gold coin the bald man gave my mother, but I wouldn’t realize why until years later. I should have felt a twinge of pride that I could garner such a price. Two of the girls had been “hired” for less than half that amount and the other two had still only been two thirds that amount. I believe that the higher price may have been due to my uniquely pale hair. That was my only distinguishing feature… at the time.

  The bald man rarely spoke to us throughout the journey. We were too afraid to ask him for anything; however, he did feed us better than we had been fed at home. He frequently muttered something about fattening his investment. I now know that a bony eight year old would not have sold well. Once he pulled a couple pieces of rock candy out of his black robes and tossed them back to us. I still don’t know why he did it. There were five of us and only two pieces of candy. I let the other four fight for the sweets while he watched with that ugly grin of his. My skin still creeps when I see that image in my memories. That night, he said that I was meant for something special. I have no idea what he meant. I might have found out if he hadn’t chose to pass through that stand of timber.

  The bandits were lying in wait for us. When they declared themselves, the bald man didn’t respond as we would have expected of someone outnumbered fifteen to one. He pulled a crossbow and shot the nearest bandit. Moving unbelievably fast, he used his short sword to kill another three before the bandit leader managed to disarm him. A moment later, the man that had purchased us was dead. I shed no tears, but the other four girls sobbed uncontrollably. Their tears were confusing. Shed for a man that would torment us and make us fight over a couple pieces of candy then tell us that the food he fed us was out of the kindness of his heart. There was no logic in those tears. The bandits gagged them, but left me alone because I had remained silent. We spent a week tied up in their cave hideout. I think it was a week because we were fed seven times.

  At the end of the week we were loaded back into the wagon where a different man held the reins. I remember that he looked sorry for us and yet was also unhappy that he
had been picked for this undesirable job. He constantly muttered when he thought no one was listening. We caught fragments of his dialogue. He resented being sent on this mission. He also felt that no matter what we went for, it wouldn’t be enough to compensate for the four comrades that had fallen. He fed us so we depended on him as we had our previous protector. The other four even cried when we were separated. I never knew where they went. I was the last.

  I remember that back alley way where the new man pulled up with his wagon and the bandit held a quiet exchange before grabbing me by the scruff of my neck and hauling me out of the wagon and marching me over to the new man. He had the permanent tan common to those native to the southern sections of the Braebach. I think he said that he was from The Forks. Wherever it was, he talked endlessly all the way to the big house that sat on the hill outside of town. I always said that it looked perpetually angry and ready to pounce on the town below. I don’t know what came of him after that. He left and never came back a month or so later.

  Once I arrived at the big house, I was taken to the back entrance where an old lady met me. I remember her the best of all. She was kinder to me than anyone had ever been in my life. I helped her with her tasks around the big house. Anything from polishing the marble columns out front to washing the laundry. I could never have imagined that three people could wear so many clothes.

  My pale hair drew comments, but the novelty wore off after the first couple weeks and I became invisible. It wasn’t by accident. Even at that age, I had an understanding of what I was. Property that could be beaten or praised on a whim. My quiet demeanor allowed me to go unnoticed for much of the time, but after a while, I actually took pains to remain out of sight. I learned much while quietly darning a sock or sewing a patch onto a pair of trousers. I learned how the house worked. Who I should avoid and what never to do. A few years later, the little lordling that lived in the house began lessons. After the first few weeks of watching his antics, I grew insanely jealous of the ability to understand the squiggles that crawled all over the pages of the tomes. The little lordling had no such interest in the mysteries that the squiggles could speak about. He would often torment his tutor in the most diabolical of ways. The poor man was driven to tears on several occasions.