The Last Legend: Awakened

by Joshua B. Wichterich

  “Oh do come over for some tea and biscuits whenever you have the time,” Moral said, cheerily. “I live just beyond the field—in the Forest Province. My home is the small cottage near the creek… I’m sure I’ll see you at The Spring Celebration as well—it is in a couple of days.”

  Sora smiled her big-toothed smile then nodded her head.

  “Yes—it will be different this year, but I will be there… I must be going, the Marchioness is waiting for me and these linens,” Sora said as she glanced down at her filled basket.

  “If you don’t mind me asking—how is the Marchioness doing? She must be a worried mess with her daughter gone and all. And I know the Marquis has been spending much time at the castle since his majesty as left for the south… She must feel so alone.”

  Sora glanced down at her basket again, then back up towards the scenery of the marketplace.

  “She—The Lady Christianne is well, the Marchioness is strong and always has been—that’s where Natalia gets it from…”

  Moral just nodded as silence fell between them. She could tell that Sora wanted to say something else about the Marchioness, but chose not to.

  “It was nice chatting with you, but I must go,” Sora finally said as she picked up her basket. “And again, thank you so much.”

  Moral just smiled and nodded her head, watching as Sora quickly scurried away.

  †††

  Sora quickly made her way through the marketplace and past the main gate that opened to the great fields of Minslethrate. A coach was waiting for her outside the gate, with the Marchioness in it and peering out of the small window. The coachman hopped off his seat then opened the small door for Sora, allowing her to put the large basket of things into the coach.

  Lady Christianne sat silently as she watched Sora get situated in the coach—she appeared like a sly cat watching its prey’s every movement… The interior of the coach smelled like the pricey oils that the Marchioness practically bathed herself in, smelling of citrus and sweet basil. The oils smelled wonderful but powerful at the same time, irritating Sora’s sinuses.

  Sora sat across from her but did not look at her at first. After a moment Sora glanced up at her and gave her a quick smile as she nodded her head. The marchioness looked beautiful and exotic as she sat upright and proper-like. She wore a deep-blue colored gown made from the finest of fabrics and her hair was up and beneath a headdress made of pearls and sparkling blue jewels. Her light-green eyes appeared cat-like and her brown skin seemed to glow in the pale-gray light that came in through the small curtained windows.

  “What took you?” The Marchioness finally asked in her islander accent as she fanned herself irritably. “I knew I should have gone with you—But I just can’t stand the site of people today.”

  “I beg your pardon your ladyship, I was chatting with…,” Sora stopped in mid-sentence, catching what she was about to say. Lady Christianne had forbid not only Natalia, but even the handmaidens from “chatting” with anyone possessing a low social status.

  “With who, Sora?” Lady Christianne asked as she stopped fanning herself.

  At that moment the coach gave a quick jolt as the horses pulled them off into the fields and towards the Ducre’ Province.

  “With the Baron’s wife’s servant, of course,” Sora quickly lied, looking out of the small window and watching the passing trees and the far off slopes of the fields.

  Normally she would feel bad for lying, but that day it didn’t bother her at all. The marchioness had been in one of those moods that upset Sora.

  Lady Christianne just rolled her vibrant-green eyes at Sora’s answer.

  “The Baroness and her servants are drier than the stale biscuits that Alexa makes,” the Marchioness teased with a small chuckle. Sora chuckled as well, but it was a weak one and not the usual loud one that she would normally let out when they gossiped about someone. “Truthfully, Alexa couldn’t bake well even if her life depended on it,” the Marchioness added, condescendingly.

  Awkward quietness came over them as Sora continued to look out of the window. The marchioness just looked at Sora who appeared as if something was bothering her.

  Sora normally would be chatting with the Marchioness in a loud manner, which would be filled with laughter and mockery. But their relationship seemed to dwindle within the last couple of days. Even though Sora served the Ducre’ family for many years, her feelings of Lady Christianne were back and forth. One day she would love talking with her, but the next, she couldn’t bear being around her. The Marchioness was short tempered and seemed to turn on anyone whom she felt betrayed by, including Sora. Lady Christianne had changed over the years and became acquisitive, inconsiderate and greedy—loving any materialistic thing that the world had to offer and forgetting about the things that should truly be important in one’s life. But the main thing that upset Sora the most was the fact that the Marchioness seemed to worry more about her wardrobe and spending money than her own daughter.

  “Something is bothering you Sora—you can not fool me,” The Marchioness said quickly, becoming irritated by Sora’s aloofness. She slapped her fan shut with her hand and began to tap it on her lap. “Your deportment reveals everything...”

  After a moment of silence and staring out of the small window, Sora finally made eye contact with The Marchioness.

  “Nothing is wrong with me, my lady,” Sora said, beginning to become annoyed herself.

  “I can see straight through you, Sora,” she said, staring coldly into her eyes now. “You know Sora—you have always been like a piece of glass—dusty, but transparent.”

  Sora clenched her teeth and looked out of the window again. The Marchioness was beginning to patronize her and it was hard for Sora to hold her tongue when she became greatly annoyed.

  “Oh, my poor sister—I know something bothers you,” Lady Christianne said in a much lower and teasing tone, which really got under Sora’s skin.

  Sora quickly looked at her, glaring her dark eyes into the lady’s bright green ones.

  “I am your sister when you want something but just a simple servant to you any other time!” Sora raised her voice.

  “Do not use that tone with me, Sora,” The Lady said, trying to control her temper. “You work for me—remember that! You will respect me! I will not have you speaking to me in that tone!”

  “Your husband bought me to be your help—but then he wanted me to strictly “raise” Natalia,” Sora said, emphasizing the word raise. “I don’t owe you any of my respect. I owe you nothing but my tone!”

  “That’s right, The Marquis purchased you to be “my help” first—then raise my daughter! So if you disrespect me, you disrespect my husband—you offend me, you offend my husband!” The Marchioness yelled with wide eyes. “And you know what can happen if you offend my husband!”

  “Your threats don’t frighten me, sister. It’s been seventeen years that I have been serving under you and all these years I’ve been holding back—refraining from telling you what kind of person you have become! Your heart has become a cold stone. You use The Marquis to build yourself up, as if you are a queen on a golden thrown with precious jewels stuck all over you! Remember where you came from Zorrina!” Sora yelled. She couldn’t contain herself anymore.

  “Do not ever address me in that manner, servant!” The marchioness yelled as she sat on the edge of her seat, coming closer to Sora.

  “Zorrina is your real name isn’t it?! You even changed your name like you changed your heart! You seem to forget that you are not even of noble blood! You come from the same home-land as I—the same blood! We are the same, but in different clothing! Have you forgotten your father? Your father, Chief of our home island, is my father too! We are family, sisters, and you are just the daughter of a chief. The Marquis bought us both! Your beautiful face is the reason why you are his wife!”

  The Marchioness bit her bottom lip as her eyes watered up. Her chin began to quiver as she slowly shook her head.

 
“If it wasn’t for me you would not be here right now—living in a beautiful manor and walking upon these beautiful lands! I wanted you with me…”

  “To make my life miserable!” Sora shouted, cutting her off. “I am the older one and ever since we were children I was always there taking care of you—and you still act as if you are greater than I! From the daughter of a chief to the Marchioness of Minlsethrate, you still act like you are some kind of goddess. If it wasn’t for my beautiful niece I would absolutely hate it here, working for you! I may have been poor at home, but I had my freedom!” Sora began to become emotional. “My own niece does not even know that I am her aunt! No one knows that you and I are sisters, family—and I have kept quiet all these years just for you—just to protect you and your social status! The day we left the island seventeen years ago I promised our father that I would protect you—and I have kept that promise! But you take me for granted, little sister—and always have.”

  The Marchioness sneered at Sora in disgust, as if she were some kind of repulsive animal—threatening her in every kind of way.

  “Yes sister, we are family—but in everybody’s eyes, including Natalia’s—you are nothing but a servant…,” The Marchioness said in her low and patronizing tone again as she raised her left eyebrow. “You are the smallest of all beings in all of Minlethrate… And I-do-not-pity you…”

  Sora was quiet for a moment as her eyes began to become glossy with tears. It was always a rare situation when Sora became emotional—but with everything that was going on in Minslethrate, it was so easy too. She never took anything her sister said seriously—but this time her cold words slashed her heart like a knife.

  “Yes Zorrina, I may be but a servant—but I will always be a far better mother to Natalia than you will ever be.”

  Just as soon as Sora finished her comment, The Marchioness swiftly slapped her face so hard that it seemed to echo in the small space of the coach. The Marchioness’ eyes were wide and her face was tense with anger.

  Surprised, Sora placed her hand on her cheek—having nothing else to say. After what seemed like hours of awkward silence, without making eye contact with the Marchioness, Sora banged on the wall of the coach behind her to signal to the coachman to stop the horses. The coach stopped suddenly, then without the help from the coachman, Sora pushed open the door to let herself out.

  Lady Christianne watched as Sora began to walk away from the coach and through the grass of the wind-blown field. Her chest swelled as she breathed quickly with anger. She irritably pulled open her fan to cool herself down.

  “Is everything alright my lady? We are only half-way to the manor,” the coachman said with a confused look on his face as he glanced at Sora.

  “Let’s go,” she said in a low tone as she still watched her sister trek her way towards the manor.

  “But my lady…”

  “Have you no ears to hear?! I said, let’s-go!” she shouted as she glared at the helpless coachman.

  The coachman went to close the door of the coach but the lady pulled the door shut the rest of the way, slamming it. The small carriage was closed and silent now as Lady Christianne realized that she was by herself in the dim light of the coach. She was alone like she always was when Natalia or her servants weren’t around. She was alone like she always was when her husband left her for weeks on end. She sat for a moment, just staring.

  After a few moments, the coach gave a quick jolt as the horses began to pull it. She stared at the empty seat across from her and thought about all the things Sora had said to her. She grew angrier as she thought of the details of their argument. But then after a moment of calming down, she began to become saddened and felt somewhat regretful of everything she had said. She knew everything her sister had said was true, but she loathed hearing it. Tears swelled up in her beautiful green eyes as her bottom lip quivered. The warm tears began to become cold as they rolled down her cheeks. She cried—something she hadn’t done since she left her home-lands. She buried her face into her hands as uncontrollable sobs came from deep within her belly. She refused to look out of the window towards Sora as the coach hastily flew by her…

  †††

  Sora stopped walking as the coach hurried past her like a harsh wind. She watched helplessly as Lady Christianne abandoned her in the middle of the massive field of Minslethrate. She began to shed tears as she stared helplessly. She fell to her knees, burying her round face into her hands. Every emotion shrouded her body as she began to tremble uncontrollably. Strong feelings of unwanted hate towards her sister began to cover her heart like a black shroud. So many thoughts crowded her mind like fog.

  Every thought of when she and her sister were young came to her. She thought of that day before her mother died from sickness—she promised her mother that she would always take care of her baby sister. She thought of all the times when they were children, she would run to pick her little sister up when she would fall and scrape up her knees. She would hold Zorrina in her arms and comfort her like a mother would. She thought of all the times when she, herself was hurt—and her sister never came… Zorrina never came to her side. She thought of that day when her father sold them to Lord Fernund—how she promised her father that she would always look after her younger sister.

  It seemed to her that she gave up everything for her sister—like she had always done. She thought of Natalia, and how beautiful she looked when she was born—how then she vowed to always look after Natalia—to protect her and look after her like she was her own daughter. And she kept her promises, all those times—giving up everything for her mother, her younger sister, and her niece. But she was never thanked for giving everything up for her family. She was taken for granted like she always had been. Sora was a strong person—but sacrificed herself for the ones she loved—even when they didn’t appreciate her or love her back… She truly loved her sister but it was so hard to feel it sometimes when she treated her like the dirt she walked on.

  Sora looked up to the coach as it quickly made its way further from her, appearing smaller and smaller as it went up and down the rolling slopes of the field. Soon she was all alone, and felt like the only person on the earth. The sky taunted her with its dark-gray clouds and the breezes brushed at the tall grassy slopes which reached miles around her in all directions. Everything around her seemed so sad, so vulnerable, and so miserable—and had been that way since the princess was taken. It seemed as if something morbid and evil was slowly creeping upon Minslethrate, overruling the kingdom, leaving everyone in a state of sadness and anger. Those dark feelings felt like uninvited guests—silent but bold.

  Sora looked down at her knees, noticing small flowers all around her. One would never notice the small flowers right away because of the persistent, morbid weather. The small white blooms seemed to reach out to her amongst the thick grass which choked them. She picked one, analyzing it, noticing how beautiful it was even amongst the darkness. Just then she remembered what Moral had told her earlier that day in the market-place.

  “…If we who are weary and carry heavy burdens go to Him… He will give us rest…”

  It repeated in her head like rippling waters—soothing and rhythmic. She began to think of herself as if she were that small bloom, being choked by everything and everyone around her. She knew that she was a strong person, like that small bloom against the thick weeds around it. She had to stay strong and continue to live strong. She felt that if she were to fall victim to darkness, she would never be able to care for her younger sister or her niece at all. It would be better to lift up the fallen after being knocked down then to just stay fallen. Sora lifted the bloom into the air and let the soft winds carry it away—like her burdens. She imagined all of the hardships that she had ever went through in her life—was in that bloom, and she let them all go.

  She lowered her head and began to pray—doing something she had never done before. She remembered the times when Natalia brought the subject of God up to her, telling her many things that Tair
ren had revealed to her about the God of Light. She even thought of the things Moral had told her earlier that afternoon. She cried out to that God whom was revealed to her—and she lifted her arms to the dark sky and poured out her heart to him. After many moments, her cold and sad heart began to lighten up, feeling like the warm barley bread she would bake for Natalia—coming right out of the oven. Even though the cold darkness augmented so strongly around her, her heart began to beat with a soft, warm glow… But it was the darkness around her that made her warm skin crawl…

  †††

  At that same moment, across the vast lands of Minslethrate, in the southern parts, King Julpen and his men had finally made their way to the clearing of Lake Iris. They looked closely around the lake and its clearing in search of any clue that would lead them to the missing princess or the where-a-bouts of the prince and lady.

  “Its head was knocked clean off,” Sir Hawkington said as he held up a decapitated wolf’s head. “No doubt by a well-sharpened sword—the edge of its flesh is smooth and not tattered.”

  The wolf-head’s eyes were large and black and its tongue hung out like a limp piece of body tissue. The head was swarming with flies and stunk unbearably. Sir Hawkington gave it one last look then tossed the ghastly head towards its stinking body.

  “They must’ve come past here,” King Julpen said with an unsettling look on his face as he swatted at some flies. “By the looks of that charred spot upon the earth, they must’ve made a fire—then got attacked by a pack of wolves.”

  “Yes, Sire,” Sir Hawkington said as he brought his large and callused hand to his bearded chin. “And the blood upon these wolves don’t look too old. It seems they must’ve gotten away unharmed—and it had to be more than one person here—it is unlikely that one soul could have taken on a pack of wolves… Even if he had a bit of luck, the chances of survival are low—but it seems as if luck is all they have…”