LEGENDS: Fifteen Tales of Sword and Sorcery

by Colt, K. J.

  ‘You’re being paid, Jemely,’ Mother said coolly.

  She wasn’t consoled, and she let everyone know by banging and thumping in Mother’s room. When she returned, she thrust pieces of clothing into my lap. ‘Here, a new dress for you, and your boots. Hurry up, I don’t have all day.’

  I changed in Mother’s bedroom—put a brush through my hair—and made sure my blindfold was firmly secured behind my head before saying goodbye to Butter and braving my first day as a student.

  Butter yelped and howled as we left the house. The sound made me sad, but the emotion paled next to the gut-wrenching fear of the coming day.

  Outside, the town bustled with life. Horses neighed, men shouted, women laughed, children screamed, and chickens clucked. I didn’t catch any whispers as Jemely and I moved through the gatherings.

  I counted my steps from home to school and made note of the turns. We left the market square to walk down a quiet alley. Jemely described all the sights, and described to me what emitted foreign noises and smells. She even described each building and jested about people’s appearances. We finally arrived at the school buildings that Jemely said bordered the eastern outskirts of town. Beyond the school were the woodlands that led to the snow-covered mountains that I ached to see but couldn’t.

  The school consisted of two buildings. Jemely explained that in one building, they taught about the Senya province—my province—and the provinces outside of it, including Ruxdor and Bivinia. The lessons also included my country’s fauna and flora and history. In the other building, they taught language and mathematics.

  Outside, I could hear children playing and screaming. Jemely told me that the ages of the children were from five to sixteen. After that, most children left school to pursue family trades or to travel to the main city of Juxon to find apprenticeships. A few of the boys went on to become scholars or to work in universities and libraries.

  Someone approached. ‘I’m Headmaster Donlage,’ a man said. ‘Nice to meet you, Adenine. And good to see you again, Jemely.’

  ‘Well met,’ I said timidly.

  ‘When someone says “Nice to meet you,” Adenine, you say “Nice to meet you, too,”’ the headmaster instructed.

  My stomach filled with butterflies. ‘Nice to meet you, too.’

  ‘Good. Let me look at you. Hmm… you are much older than the other children who start here. Still, you will have to take your classes with the younger students. If you find the work too easy, we’ll move you up with the older children. Mr. Sagglewood teaches ages ten to sixteen, and there are forty students all up.’

  ‘The school ain’t half bad, Adenine. I went here ages ago,’ Jemely said.

  ‘Well, then, let’s get you settled. Do you have a walking stick?’ Headmaster Donlage asked.

  ‘What?’ I asked.

  Headmaster Donlage sighed. ‘Use your manners, Adenine. Like this. “Pardon me, sir. But I don’t understand.”’ He addressed Jemely. ‘She is ill-mannered. How long has this poor girl been blind?’

  ‘Since she was ten, maybe,’ Jemely said.

  ‘Tsk, well, she’s blind, so she needs a walking stick, or she’ll be hopeless, won’t she?’

  ‘Hadn’t really thought about it, sir,’ Jemely said curtly. ‘She’s been getting by pretty well ’til now. She’s a smart little thing.’

  I swelled with pride at Jemely’s words, and I remembered Varago telling me about the headmaster’s bottom worms, and it took all my will not to giggle.

  Having Jemely stick up for me made it that much harder when she announced she was leaving. I knew at thirteen I was supposed to be braver, but I couldn’t help clinging to her and asking her not to leave me. Headmaster Donlage placed a not-so-comforting hand on my shoulder and guided me inside the schoolhouse. The sounds of scraping chairs, laughter, and childish conversation were overwhelming.

  ‘Hey, look! It’s Adenine, the forest witch,’ a boy said.

  The room filled with laughter, and the headmaster quickly guided me to the front of the room and stood me beside him.

  ‘Quieten down. It’s wrong to laugh at a person’s misfortune, Jark. You had better hope nothing bad ever happens to you!’ Headmaster Donlage snapped.

  The room went quiet.

  ‘Jark, come here,’ Headmaster Donlage said.

  A chair scraped. Jark moved towards me, and all I could do was stand there stupidly.

  ‘Hold out your hand,’ the headmaster ordered.

  Crack. My bones almost jumped from my skin. It sounded like a horseman breaking in a colt. After five whips—every one of them making me flinch—Jark whimpered, yet the thrashing continued.

  Six…seven…eight…nine…The last one finally sounded, and then there was silence except for the boy’s sobs.

  ‘Now take your seat,’ the headmaster said. ‘Class, this is Adenine. She’s thirteen. Say hello, Adenine.’

  I worried about Jark’s injuries. He’d gotten in trouble because of me. I felt bad.

  ‘Adenine?’ the headmaster asked again.

  I wanted to speak, but the whispers from the children distracted me.

  ‘… blind and weird, I heard.’

  ‘… father murdered…’

  ‘… disease.’

  I tried to shut them out. They were horrible. I knew the headmaster couldn’t hear them or he’d have yelled. And even though he’d punished one boy for being rude, could he punish them all? I wished I were deaf. Deaf and dumb. The perfect solution to my life. What they said made me think bad things, made me want to hurt them and teach them a lesson.

  ‘Well met,’ I squeaked, and everyone laughed. Humiliation burned in my cheeks, and I wanted to run away and cry.

  ‘Yes, well, it’s normal to be shy,’ Headmaster Donlage said, taking me by the arm and leading me to a chair. ‘Here.’

  I felt for the horizontal plate of the wooden chair and sat, then hunched over and folded my arms, trying to take up as little space as possible. The many judging eyes bored holes into the back of my head. I wanted to disappear.

  ‘I heard her uncle, Ardonian, cut her eyes out just after he murdered her father,’ someone whispered.

  Little did they know that Ardonian, the murderer, was my real father. For the first time, I felt relief that people thought Uncle Garrad was my father. He was considered innocent while Father was despised, but they had it all wrong anyway. I was the curse. I was responsible.

  ‘We’ve spent the last few days talking about the civil war. So let us review, for Adenine’s sake, what we’ve learned so far. Now, who can tell me the name of the king that ruled when the Death Plague began? Yes, Harsy.’

  ‘King Cevznik, sir.’ The boy’s voice was high and screechy. He followed up his answer with a snotty sniff that bubbled deep in his nose.

  ‘Precisely,’ the headmaster replied. ‘There was another name for that king? Yes, Lillza.’

  ‘The Wicked King, sir.’

  ‘Well done, and why was he wicked?’

  ‘Sir,’ a boy piped up, ‘he was wicked because he changed the laws. He made healers a property of the royal crown and decreed that healer women were the property of men.’

  ‘And why is that wrong?’

  ‘Because no person should belong to another person,’ the class chimed in together.

  Mother had told me that one of the reasons the Senyans and Ruxdorians didn’t get along was that Ruxdorians had slaves. She also said that the Queens weren’t against slaves either, and that they had political agendas that overlapped with the Ruxdorians. We also discussed how the Ruxdor people were allied with North Senya, but South Senya was not. Ruxdorians were known to be brutes, cruel and criminal, which was why no one was to venture north of Meligna.

  ‘How old was King Erageo when he took the throne?’

  The class answered together. ‘Seventeen.’

  ‘And how did the Wicked King die?’

  ‘The Plague.’

  ‘Excellent,’ the headmaster praised. ‘How did King Erageo es
tablish peace again?’

  ‘Sir,’ a girl replied, ‘the war ended when King Erageo gave the evil Queens Meligna and the surrounding land in exchange for peace. He had to, sir. The Death Plague killed most of his soldiers, and so he had no way to fight the war.’

  ‘Good. And what type of witch belongs in the Meligna city?’ Headmaster Donlage asked, an unnerving bitterness in his tone.

  ‘A healer witch,’ the class chimed.

  ‘And where do all healer witches belong?’

  ‘Meligna,’ they chanted.

  ‘If a healer is born to a South Senyan, what happens?’

  ‘They go to Juxon City and are kept in solitude until they are fourteen. Then they go to Meligna to live,’ a young girl answered.

  ‘Right. Excellent work everyone. You’ve all grasped the basics of our country’s most recent civil war. This week is a new week, and thus we’ll be changing the topics to trade and townships.’ The headmaster went on to talk about the towns of South Senya, what the towns produced, who their mayors were, and how many citizens lived in each one.

  Mother and I had talked about trade routes. I knew the southern roads led to Juxon City and beyond to the water lands of Bivinia. There were two ways to get from north to south. Obviously by passing through Borrelia and heading north, but another way was farther east and was a treacherous route that ran between the Borrelia mountains and the impossible-to-cross middle mountains that divided Arcania from the unknown lands to the west.

  ‘Hey!’ I recognized the voice of Jark. ‘You got poo on your face.’

  Everyone who heard him giggled. I wiped at my face with my sleeve, horrified at how I could have missed that in my morning face washing. Why hadn’t Jemely told me about it?

  ‘It’s still there,’ he said, and I wiped again.

  Someone else said, ‘Fell for it twice.’

  More jeers rose around me.

  ‘Can’t believe she thought she had poo on her face.’

  ‘… shit face.’

  ‘… pooh on her sleeve.’

  ‘Jark, be quiet!’ the headmaster shouted, and stomped to the boy. ‘No lunch break for you. You can stay here and help me clean the hornbooks. Oh, and you’ll be given a further twenty whips with the cane on the backs of your knees.’

  When the headmaster resumed his place at the front of the classroom, Jark muttered, ‘Thanks a lot, blind girl.’

  At the end of the lesson, I had learned that there was another path between Juxon city and North Senya. The road went through a dangerous mountain pass to the east, but only the bravest fur traders and merchants travelled that way. King Erageo was still trying to establish better relations between the Queens and South Senya so that people could travel safely to the city of Meligna. But the headmaster’s hatred of the Queens was clear, as he kept bringing the conversation back to them and provoking the children into saying hateful things.

  I raised my hand.

  ‘Adenine,’ the headmaster seemed surprised.

  ‘If the king wants to establish peace and trade with the Queens, then shouldn’t we speak better of them?’

  The children around me gasped, a cowbell donged, and murmurs filled the air, as did banging and stomping as everyone left the room.

  ‘Time for your morning break,’ the headmaster said, but his tone was less friendly and I knew I’d spoken out of turn. I quietly rose, trying to make myself small, and as I found the doorway, the headmaster’s hand came down on my shoulder.

  ‘Here.’ A long, smooth cane was put in my hand. ‘Hold this out and tap it against surfaces and you’ll avoid bumping into things.’

  ‘Thank you, sir,’ I squeaked.

  ‘And Adenine.’

  ‘Yes?’

  I knew I was about to receive a scolding.

  ‘Opinions are the cornerstone of free thinking, but they’re also an enemy to friendship.’

  I wasn’t quite sure what he’d meant, but I nodded anyway and then swept from the room.

  Outside, it was strange trying to rely on the cane. I would hit it against something, then reach out to feel what was at the end of it. Eventually it grew easier, and I used the stick to measure distance between me and objects as well as measuring depth and making sure I didn’t bump into other children.

  ‘Well met,’ a girl said. ‘I’m Emala. Your parents own Mystoria, huh? I’ve been there before. It’s Mother’s favourite shop.’

  Shyly, I said, ‘Yeah.’

  ‘How old are you?’ she asked.

  ‘Thirteen.’

  ‘I’m twelve. How come you aren’t in my class? Ain’t you been to school before?’

  ‘No,’ I said.

  ‘Oh.’

  There was an uncomfortable silence. Mother had said to be polite and friendly, but she’d never told me exactly what I should say to strange children.

  ‘So, what’s it like not being able to see?’

  I tried not to be offended at her question. Mother had said that people would always be inquisitive about my eyes and not to let it bother me. ‘I can hear pretty good,’ I said.

  Emala laughed. ‘Don’t you want to see things, though? Like clouds and food and street lamps?’

  ‘I’ve only been blind since I was ten.’

  ‘Oh.’ She paused. ‘My dad is Mayor Vawdon.’

  I stiffened. ‘I’ve met him.’

  ‘I know. He said you were quiet, but I think that’s just because you don’t know anyone.’

  Emala was easy to talk to, warm and kind. Mother did not like Emala’s father. But one thing I had learned from Mrs. Moferbury during our conversations was that a child’s temperament could be different from their parents’.

  ‘People tell me I’m shy,’ I said.

  ‘Yeah, see? Everyone is shy at first. But shyness just means you’re not ready to be your real self. I read that in a book once.’

  Books. At least we had that in common, and I smiled. Emala was refreshingly genuine and reminded me of Jemely in that way. It was exciting to think that she was the first girl close to my age that I’d ever talked to.

  ‘So how come you’re at school? You can’t read or write ‘cause you can’t see, right?’

  ‘Yes. But I can still learn by hearing.’

  ‘I guess,’ she said, sounding unconvinced.

  I’d asked myself that question the night before when Mother had suggested school. Would I be any use at school if I couldn’t even see the teachers or the books?

  ‘I do like to learn,’ I added.

  ‘Really? Ugh,’ she said. ‘You’re weird. Everyone hates school.’

  My hands became moist. Oh, no. I’d said the wrong thing. Would she hate me now?

  ‘My aunt makes me,’ I added, trying to backtrack on my odd remark.

  ‘Yeah, my father makes me too.’ She giggled.

  ‘Hey, Emala, made a new friend?’ Jark asked.

  ‘Thought you and your big mouth had to help the headmaster,’ she teased. ‘I heard what happened.’

  ‘Nah, at lunch time. ‘sides, it won’t be bad, Dad is the town crier, and Donlage is too scared Dad will say something.’

  ‘Too scared, eh? How’s your hand?’ Emala touched my arm. ‘Jark is nine. And’—she raised her voice—‘for someone so small, he’s really annoying.’ That started a fight between them, and they groaned and howled as they wrestled.

  ‘Shut up, Emala. I’ll be big enough to beat you before you know it,’ Jark said.

  ‘And until then you’ve only got teeny-weeny girl arms.’

  I couldn’t help laughing, and no longer felt intimidated by the boy.

  ‘You shut up too, Queen-lover,’ he said.

  ‘Leave her alone, Jark. Why don’t you go play with people your own age? We adults are talking.’

  There was more squabbling, until another voice cut in, ‘Hey, Emala.’ Whoever was speaking sounded tired, as if he hadn’t slept in weeks. I realised that other children must have been standing around, listening to our conversation. I tipped
my head forward, making my hair hide my face a little.

  ‘Frooby, how are you feeling?’ Emala asked.

  As if to answer, Frooby coughed several times. His lungs sounded as if they’d been cut into strips. ‘As healthy as a baby deer,’ he croaked.

  Emala chuckled. ‘This is Adenine.’

  ‘Greetings, Adenine,’ Frooby said.

  ‘Well met.’ I held out my hand. Part of me still worried about passing on the Death Plague. It was a feeling I couldn’t seem to shake.

  Children giggled at me. ‘What a dork,’ Jark said, but Frooby took my hand, wrapping his soft fingers around mine. Something passed between our hands, a sort of warmth, a connection. I didn’t understand it, and I yanked my hand away.

  ‘Oh, Frooby and Adenine, dancin’ near the lovetree…’ Jark sang.

  My cheeks flushed.

  ‘Frooby’s father owns a vegetable stall and a farm outside of town,’ Emala said.

  ‘I’ve met your father,’ I said. ‘His name is Derkal, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes,’ Frooby replied. ‘Who are your parents? Please forgive me. There is no excuse for not knowing who you are in this town. I’ve spent too long inside.’ He cleared his throat.

  ‘Me too,’ I returned, but that brought silence to our group.

  ‘What do you mean?’ Frooby inquired.

  I panicked. They’d think I was a freak if they knew I’d been shut inside my parents’ house for twelve years.

  ‘Oh, er, well, I spent winter at my grandma’s house. I didn’t get out much.’

  Jark snorted. ‘Adenine’s father, Garrad, was killed by her uncle, Ardonian. Do you remember? Her father was stabbed?’

  ‘Jark!’ Emala cried. ‘That’s both mean and rude.’

  ‘How terrible for you, Adenine. I am truly very sorry for your misfortunes,’ Frooby said with a charm that I was certain could disarm even Jemely. ‘Excuse me now, the harsh air is driving me indoors.’ He coughed some more and moved away.

  ‘He’s such a weakling,’ Jark said.

  ‘He’s also six years older than you,’ Emala scolded. ‘You should be more respectful.’

  ‘Why? He doesn’t care.’

  Then, without warning, someone touched my blindfold.