by Larry Crow
Enough!
Voravia was angry and expressing it violently.
This was the worst day of her life, dragged from her home by these brutes and forced to come to this forsaken place.
Not without a fight, she thought smugly.
How could these people just come and kidnap her and not expect her to fight? She had her own reasons for turning the one guard to a stone statue; he had annoyed her.
She was bound and dragged kicking, forced to come.
And now, standing in a room in the castle in the mountain, she was told to remove her clothing.
She looked about, glaring, frowning fiercely.
A large and brawny, her desert red skin and hair stringing wildly out from her head, shouted at her, pointing her finger at a pile of clothing laying across one of the beds.
“Get dressed in one of those and be quick about it," The crazy woman yelled at her.
Voravia glared and stuck out her tongue when the woman turned her back. But she realized the futility of her aggression, shrugged her shoulders and walked to the bed to look down at the long gowns.
She chose one and held it up in front of her, admiring the lines, the deep blue colors.
She quickly removed her old clothing and slipped the dress over her head; it slithered around her body, caressing it, and formed itself to fit snugly.
She stood defiantly, wanting to tear the dress from her body though she knew the servant woman wouldn't allow it.
She turned, admiring herself in a large mirror placed just so one might have the opportunity to do so.
This dress is beautiful. Well, Voravia, where else could you find a dress like this? Certainly not in the desert!
She, determining there must be a unique reason why the soldiers had taken so much trouble to grab only her from all the females living in her village, began to wonder what might come next.
Marte, the matron of deliberate intent and assigned to be her watchdog, told her there was to be a gathering and it would be important in the lives of the people and her. Marte didn't know, however, why Voravia was brought to the palace.
At least, Voravia saw it as a palace. She could remember no talk of this place before and one could be certain such a place would have been talked about among the people; it was as though it came into existence over night.
They made me walk up that stupid hill!
She almost grunted with disgust.
I haven't worked that hard since I was a child.
She fluffed her hair on one side, peering into the mirror again.
Maybe I'm here because of what I did to the filthy Yetr’y a fortnight ago.
She giggled to herself.
He deserved it, the stupid ox.
Yetr’y had tried to persuade Voravia to come with him into the desert one evening and was being more forceful than she was willing to allow.
She, without trying and without knowing how, turned the man into a sand column.
A rather nice one overlooking the sea at least.
She smiled to herself.
I suspect I'll never know how I did it, but it had to be me -- I was the only other living thing around and I was mad at him, the fool, for what he was trying to do. And, I did it again with the soldier.
"Hm-m-m," she sighed, "wonder how?"
TRIBULATION