Next, a white screen unfurls from above, and another dozen smaller thunder lanterns charge the stage, lighting up the screen and sending silver waves flowing throughout it as if the screen were made of liquid silver.
A narrator booms in a great voice from the shadows beyond the screen. He starts with a prelude to set the tone of the drama about to unfold. It is a warrior’s tale. The story of the Three Season War, one of the Legends of the Dark. It is the most bold and passionate of the legends that originated from the dark ages. A time with no history, no religion, and no god. Only man. A time when man thought himself god. And gods need not record their lives for they will live forever. So, the only history to escape the dark ages was by the tongue of man. And everyone knows how reliable of a resource the tongue of man is. Regardless, the Legends of the Dark are remarkable stories, and this one is my favorite. To see it on the silver screen… Jay would love to be here.
“There was a young lad,” the narrator calls out, “not yet a man, but more than an innocent boy, from the northwestern region of Alta Silvae. Moritus Feris was his name, The Fierce Decayer. At the time his tale began, he was known as Mori the Gory, a disfigured and mistreated soul, and his story began on a night of bloodshed and horror. At the hour of the demon, the head of the Kukri Guild, an assemblage of trained Sprhowt assassins, lay siege to the town of Hedgestone—the town where Mori and his kin resided.
“The assassins crept into the village more silent than a bird on the wind.” Dark figures manifest on the stage. The narrator continues. “For most of the citizens of the village, they go quiet and peaceful into the clutches of the grim, but not all. That…was not the fate…for Mori the Gory…”
And the show begins.
Just then, I see her. How could it be? How could Jaymes have made her way to Redcliffe Village? Was she not kidnapped by the Taoiseach? Does that mean Stone is headed to his own execution without reason?
She has short, brunette, unkempt hair and a petite figure. She carries her typical demeanor that screams You have no power over me! Her attire plays a part in it, as it’s not of a trending or traditional style, but rather outlandish, and derives from her own personal taste—spirited. She dons unusually short, brown trousers, which barely cover her buttocks, with bright-colored strings of cloth dangling loosely from the belt line. Her light-green tunic is nothing unusual aside from being sleeveless with frayed edges. And in her hair are strands of brightly colored ribbons, contrasting the dark features she carries. I’ve never witnessed such flashy clothing on her, but it fits her personality perfectly. It demands attention. It shouts Jaymes.
I wonder how she made it here. Maybe Stone knows of this. And where is that thief who stole her from our company? So many questions, but it’s no surprise to find her mesmerized and lost in front of the silver screen. I gesture to Graytu I’ll return shortly, and approach her nonchalantly. Maybe she’ll think I came here intentionally, looking for her. I’ll be her hero.
I move to tap her shoulder but hesitate. I withdraw my hand. “Jay?” She turns around, and my excitement falters immediately. Her nose, lips, cheekbones, dark features, physique, and everything about her are so familiar. All except for her evergreen eyes. Jaymes’s are a beautiful amber and are unrivaled —not that this girl doesn’t have beautiful eyes—but Jaymes’s have an unmistakable radiance about them. Plus, this girl’s features are noticeably more childlike. She’s not Jaymes.
“Excuse me!” Her brow crinkles, and a finger jabs me in the chest. ”You’re disrupting the show.”
“My apologies. I thought you were…a girl.” I trail off, realizing too late my response might be offensive.
“What do you mean?” she asks, raising her voice. “Are you saying I’m not a girl? That I don’t meet your standards? That I don’t demand the attention pretty girls do? You’re twice my age anyhow, you pervert!”
“That…uh…that’s not what I said at all.” I stammer, caught off guard by the rather immature and outright offensive response. In no way did my comment deserve such a slandering. Who is this bold girl?
She looks at me with pursed lips and a gaze so sharp it could lop my head off with one fell swoop.
I gather my courage and respond with a more brash response. It’s apparent this young girl would talk down to the highest of Advocates or even the Taoiseach himself had she the opportunity. She has flame, I give her that.
“I lost someone… Someone close to me. Your resemblance to her is uncanny and I merely thought my search had come to an end.”
“Well, I’m not the girl you’re looking for,” she replies. “Now please, I’d like to enjoy the show. And as a guest, you ought to do the same out of respect for those being so generous to you.” She turns and faces the entertainment.
To be reprimanded by such a young girl. Embarrassing. It doesn’t settle well with me.
Suddenly, drums beat to a dubstep rhythm. The deep cadence is enough to penetrate my skin down to my bones. It’s a sound that allows for no less than full attention. I forget about her disrespect and follow her example. And without regret. The silver screen is magnificent.
A brief intermission takes place while the acting guild sets up a new act. The audience buzzes again, and I take advantage of the break to confront the familiar young girl.
“My name is Goose.” I introduce myself while peering over her shoulder.
“Grouse?”
“No. What?”
She turns to face me. “Oh, you again? What is it this time?”
“I figured an apology was due, but your nasty tongue is giving me second thoughts. You lectured me on respect, yet you fail to follow your own advice. Where are your parents?”
She gives me a furious shove. “What gives you the right to talk about my parents? You know nothing about them!” Her voice is loud enough to draw attention from the crowd.
I look around, and no eyes have concentrated on her yet.
“What? Are you an orphan? Is that where your bratty nature comes from?” I respond with an immature retaliation of my own. It’s comical how easy it is to let your own behavior mimic those around you. You interact with a young child, and you’re likely to throw a tantrum; you interact with the elderly, and somehow, their wisdom contagiously spreads into your own thoughts; you interact with an idiot, and you find yourself laughing hysterically at the most mundane pranks as if you’ve lowered your expectations. “You haven’t had an easy life, so you take it out on all those around you? I’m right. Am I not?”
Her expression morphs into something demon-like, and I fear she’ll strike at me with an intent to murder. Instead, that anger dematerializes, and her eyes pool with tears that refuse to break over the rim. The dam cracks. Then, she vanishes through the crowd into the low-lit treetops.
The guilt I feel is overwhelming, so I chase after her. “Wait!” I yell with a feeble hope she might turn around and talk to me. She continues running. Helios, alerted by my raised voice, rises as fast as the labored cat can and tails me while I pace after the girl.
I suppose now any onlookers are going to have an offset opinion about me too, if they didn’t already. A drifter whom they barely know is chasing after a young girl in tears with a dangerous wildcat in tow. Someone is likely to chase me down and cut my throat. I press on anyways.
The girl is surefooted and experienced at careening through the maze of organic bridges. She prances from bridge to bridge flawlessly, knowing exactly where to place her feet, whereas I feel like a gorilla chasing after a fawn. It’s a good thing all the villagers are at the celebration and aren’t crowding the catwalks.
She leaps off one of the bridges about a hundred paces ahead of me and floats through the air on a device hanging from above. She glides through the air twice as fast and lands on a platform nearly two hundred paces away. She looks back, and I expect to see anger and tears, but she smiles as if this is a game. She then turns and keeps going.
Just then, distracted by her boldness, I stumble on the tiniest of sprou
ts and nearly spill over the edge, which undoubtedly would leave me broken and stuck here for some time. I can’t have that. I need to stay focused and remember why I’m here. Chasing after this girl isn’t worth it.
Helios trots up to me and nudges me with one of his roaring purrs. He thinks this a game too. I shove him away and get back to my feet, but she is nowhere to be seen. Helios nudges my hand to get some attention, so I give him a generous scratch behind the ears.
After roaming the web of bridges for a brief time, I decide to head back to the gathering. This is a waste of my time. I don’t know why I am so keen on apologizing to the girl anyways. She is the one who was rude to me from the beginning.
Without warning, an arrow flies over my shoulder and sticks the tree in front of me. I crouch low and scan for the source but see nothing. The dimly lit bridges don’t provide enough light, and the archer is likely higher up in the shadows, judging by the angle of the arrow. There’s a piece of parchment pinned to it. My head tells me I’m in harm’s way and should flee, but my instincts know she’s taunting. I rip the parchment from the tree. It simply reads, Slow poke. Am I girly enough for you now? First, she accuses me of being a perverted predator. Then shames me by falsely crying and running off. And now she taunts me. A very bold girl indeed.
“Alright, game’s over,” I yell toward the treetops. She drops down from some type of automated ladder.
“What’s the matter? You can’t keep up with a little girl?” she taunts.
“I have a hunch you don’t see yourself as a little girl. With a shot like that, you’re more of a predator than Helios is.” I gesture to the tiger and rough up his mane a bit.
“Nice tiger. I’m good with a bow. I’ll admit it.”
“And what else will you admit? Why did you run off like you were crying? Your actions could get me killed by one of your overseers.”
“Overseers? Nah. Whatever an overseer is, they knew you were only a victim of my mischief.”
The audacity of this young girl makes me want to backhand her, but at the same time, it’s too familiar. It is exactly how Jaymes would have treated me. I find it strangely comforting.
“Even your parents? What if they saw me chasing after you? They wouldn’t come to defend you?”
“No.” Her shoulders shrug, and her spunk fades.
So, there is a story with her parents, and she’s using this game as a defense mechanism to hide her insecurities.
“I’m sorry,” I reply. “Both of them?” I don’t fully insinuate I’m referring to her parents being deceased, but I know she’ll understand. It’s hard to hear it sometimes, even if it happened ages ago, and I don’t want to cause her any more pain than she already has.
“Yes. It was an accident. That’s what the elders tell me, but I know there was something more. There was no reason for them to both be on that cliff and to have both ‘accidentally’ died while they were up there. I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Understood. My mother died when I was young too. A few seasons younger than you are now, I presume. I had some hateful feelings toward her for making me endure a life with my father alone. I would never tell anybody that, however, so keep it a secret, okay?”
“What’s wrong with your father?” she probes innocently.
He’s a bastard. He cares for duty more than family. He chose duty over me.
“There’s nothing wrong with him. He’s an honorable man. He’s the General of the Crimson Guard. Very respectable, but it’s difficult to be his son. I think maybe he puts some of the blame on me for my mother dying. I don’t know why. She came down with an illness, and regardless of the Healer’s attempts, her body wouldn’t hold on. My father has as much pain from her loss as I do, and, well… He knew as much about raising a child as I did about being a warrior. I don’t blame him, and I still strive for the greatness he expects of me.”
“Wow. I thought maybe he was wrong in the head or something, or maybe he was a cripple and she left you to care for him. I didn’t expect it to be so intense.”
“Yeah, well…like I said, I wouldn’t admit it to anyone, so keep it a secret. Because I’ll deny it for as long as I live.”
“Understood,” she replies.
A silence takes us. I think back on the memory of my parents together.
I can see my mother’s smile. There was so much love in that smile. So much care for everyone around her. If she were still here, I would still be there. With both of them. My father never would have made the decisions he did had she been around to set him right. So much anger grew inside him. He needed more. And she filled that hole within him when she was alive. I would never have had to flee. I was afraid of what would become of us. Because of him. But I exiled myself anyways when I helped Stone and Jaymes on my way out. My mother’s death broke us apart. But I found a new family in Stone and…Jay. This girl resembles her too much.
She breaks the silence. “My father was…the same. Sort of. He was a good, solid figure, respected in the community, but it always seemed like he had his own agenda for me. He wanted me to be a lady. He wanted me to brush my hair, clean things, and learn to do whatever it is a woman is supposed to care for. He was never proud of me. He gave me a bow when I was younger, thinking it would be harmless, but I haven’t been able to put it down since. The exhilaration you get when piercing your target perfectly from sixty paces out. The thrill of the hunt. The satisfaction you can physically taste after you’ve butchered and seared your kill. I loved it, and I wouldn’t let go of it no matter how much he pushed other girly tasks on me. I would do everything he asked. I helped my mother prep all the meals. I helped her clean up afterward. I gave it my best attempt at holding my tongue and speaking like a proper lady, and I did it all for him. Now he’s gone. Now they’re gone.”
“I’m sorry…err… what’s your name, by the way?”
“Oh… Yeah… Zoie.” She greets me with an outstretched hand, and I grip it firmly.
Her hand is rough to the touch. Like a tiger’s tongue or perhaps tree bark. Living in a canopy must build some deep calluses.
As we let go of each other’s hands and look at one another, an awkward silence falls on us. I realize we’re complete strangers, yet I opened up so freely. Now it’s uncomfortable.
“Do you want it?” Zoie breaks the silence.
“Want what?” My face contorts.
“The bow my father gave me,” she says merrily.
“What…why…why would you offer me something like that?”
“It’s not a great bow. I have a new one I designed myself. I’ve made several improvements that allow me the distance and accuracy of a standard size bow but designed for my small figure. See?” She holds up her bow.
It looks like a standard recurve bow that is too big for her, but maybe there’s something about the wood that better suits her.
“A gift from your father, I couldn’t possibly take it. And you shouldn’t be offering it.”
“Don’t worry. My father introduced me to the sport, and that is what I treasure. I’m not so attached I must hold onto an ancient bow that I’ll never use. Plus, it’s built for a little girl. Perfect for you.” She winks.
“Are you sure?” I reply, disregarding her insult. I refuse to reward her with the pleasure she’ll get from it.
“You’re going to have to feed yourself somehow.”
“What do you mean? The generosity of this village is overwhelming. I’ve only been here a short while, but I have never been left hungry.”
“The bow. You’ll need to use it. Just wait. You’ll see what I mean.”
I’ll need it. What does that mean? Have the fruits they’ve offered me thus far been poisoned? Should I stop eating what they offer? What gain would they get from that? Or maybe her offering goes beyond her comment about needing to feed myself. Maybe I’m not as safe here as I’d thought. Maybe it’s all a guise. Or maybe they expect me to hunt the Redcliffe Guardian? No, not a chance. He’s some form of a protecto
r for their village. It could be Graytu has more challenges yet to unfold and Zoie knows something of the matter. I hesitate, stroking a hand through my hair, but I accept the gift.
“Shall we get back to the celebration?” I ask.
“Yeah. We’ve probably missed the second half of the Three Seasons War, but I’ve heard that one a hundred times too many. They’ve likely moved onto the more eventful part of the evening. Let’s go.”
We traipse back to the plaza at a much slower pace than we fled.
As we banter, strolling down the catwalk, a large, dark figure looms ahead in the shadows. I press a firm hand in front of Zoie to stop her from walking any further. “It’s that damned ape! Get back!”
“No, it isn’t.” She gaffs at me. “What are you talking about?”
“Just over there. In the shadows.” I raise my hand to where the shadow stands, and it is gone. “It was…just there.”
“Doubt it,” she responds dismissively. “He doesn’t veer far from his kin and he’s much too noisy to hide in the shadows. If you listen, you can always here him. C’mon.” She pushes my arm away and treks on.
I pause and attempt to listen for him. I hear nothing but the sounds of a nocturnal forest.
“Boo!” shouts an unexpected voice from the shadows. I jerk and nearly swing my newly acquired bow at him. Graytu reveals himself from behind one of many dark evergreens looming over us. His mad squirrel dances around on his shoulders.
“There’s your ape, eh, Grouse?” Zoie swiftly punches me in the stomach, and both start chuckling at me before continuing toward the plaza. Helios follows right behind them.
I stay put and scan the shadows once more. I know the dark figure I witnessed was far too large to be Graytu. And that squirrel is far too perky to remain quiet in the shadows. Why are the two always together anyways? I shake my head at their nonsense. I can only speculate, and my mind drifts to the fantastical. I can’t let Graytu distract me with his quirkiness. But there is something taboo going on here. Graytu is more than he appears.
Season of Sacrifice (Blood of Azure Book 1) Page 27