Lyrisia bit her lip to stop its trembling as she kept her eyes locked on the scenery through the window. The rain hadn’t let up since Nex had left and she was surprised it hadn’t flooded yet. It’d already been a full day and now she was tallying the hours that went past his deadline. Finally, she couldn’t stand it anymore and stood quickly.
The people she passed in the hall looked on her with worry, confusion, and pity, but she ignored them as she tried not to sprint to her destination. She almost didn’t remember to change out of the dress she wore on her way to Nommia’s bedchamber.
She didn’t bother to knock before nearly throwing the door open. She remembered Nommia’s fondness for men just before her eyes came to rest on the bed so she breathed a sigh of relief to see Nommia sleeping peacefully by herself.
Lyrisia strode over, kneeled before the bed, and shook Nommia’s shoulder urgently but gently. The last thing she wanted was an irritated Nommia… on second thought, maybe that would be to her, and Nex’s, benefit.
“Nommia,” she kept her voice from cracking in worry. “Wake up, please. He’s not back yet and it’s already been a day.”
“Wha-” Nommia asked groggily, cracking her eyelids to discover her disturber. “What’re you talkin’ ‘bout?”
“Nex!” Lyrisia tried not to shout. “He’s not back yet! We have to go find him. I’m getting worried. Please?”
“Fine,” Nommia sighed, forcing herself to sit up with a groan. “Go get the horses while I get dressed and we’ll go find him.”
Lyrisia ignored the following mumbled insults aimed at Nex as she thanked her friend and hurried off to the stables.
When Nommia entered the stables, she carried three different types of knives, which she hid in various places in the saddle of her jet black horse, and another strapped to each thigh. Lyrisia wondered if she’d really need that many as she checked her bowstring and secured it to her back.
They rode out of the castle at a brisk gallop and found the clearing within an hour and a half.
Nommia signaled for Lyrisia to dismount and they both quickly slid from their saddles. They crept to the edge of the tree line, both armed and ready for attack. Nommia saw the cliff first, she was as surprised as Nex by that, and finally, her gaze settled on the still, black-clad form.
She straightened before she heard the gasp from Lyrisia, who ran forward and fell to her knees beside Nex’s still form. Lyrisia brushed the hair from his face gently, trying to avoid the shallow cut on his cheek, as Nommia strode forward and squatted on the other side of him.
“Bastard had an archer,” she muttered, examining the arrow in Nex’s shoulder.
“Is he dead?” Lyrisia asked, on the verge of tears.
“Nah,” Nommia shrugged and finally met her friend’s tear-filled eyes. “He’s just unconscious.”
“Are you sure?” Lyrisia’s eyes went back to his face.
“Yeah,” Nommia chuckled. “You shouldn’t have been showing off,” she said into Nex’s ear. “Jerk.”
She wrapped her hand around the base of the arrow, closest to his back, and tightened her grip.
“What’re you-” Lyrisia started.
Nommia didn’t answer as she ripped the arrow out as quickly as she could. She froze with it above her head and looked down expectantly.
“Damn,” she muttered disappointedly and tossed the arrow on the ground. “He didn’t even move!”
“Oh,” Lyrisia responded, chastising herself for not realizing that. “We should get him to the infirmary soon.”
“Right,” Nommia sighed and bandaged his wound with a piece of torn cloth quickly. “I’ll figure out how to keep him on the stupid horse.”
She continued to grumble until long after they left with Nex tied to the saddle behind Lyrisia.
Saturday, January 2, 2010
Friday, January 1, 2010
Chapter 1 (as yet, unfinished)
Leslie, you must add/edit Nina's doings or preferances or feelings or routine in paragraphs marked with a *, please and tank ya
Nina awoke with a gasp or… what would have been a gasp. A hand covered her mouth tightly, keeping her from making a sound or sitting up. She almost attacked the person above her before she recognized the face as Nikkea’s. He slowly released her after she nodded calmly at him.
She sat up slowly and quietly, careful not to disturb the sleeping figures around her. She stood and began to roll up her bedroll. She stuffed it among the two that belonged to her siblings, knowing that none of the slaves in her block would steal from her but not being foolish enough to think that none of the guards or any other slave wouldn’t. The hopeless would do anything and the slave camp was designed to drain all hope.
Her mind strayed to her dream. She’d had that same dream multiple times before so the familiar mixture of hope and despair that sat on her tongue was no surprise. She knew the ending like her siblings’ faces but, every time, she was always shocked at the ending, like she was seeing it for the first time, every time.
Nommia and Nikkea were familiar with her reaction, too. They recognized her sleeping habits when she was having the dream and were always there to make sure she woke quietly. The first time, she had waked up nearly half the slaves in their block and they weren’t too happy about that. So, whenever one of the two would notice her fidgeting in her sleep, one would stay to be sure she remained silent.
She looked over at Nikkea, who was nearly finished putting away his things. She took in the strong jaw, the jet black, neatly kept hair, and the round, jade-green eyes. He was a few inches taller than her and thin, but not like the rest of the slaves. He was all lean muscle, deceptively so, though he didn’t enjoy using it. His passion was knowledge, whether in books or word of mouth, the more he was able to learn, the happier he was. His face had livened up when he finally got moved to the library; if a handful of shabby scrolls and one or two books that were nearly falling apart could be called a library. It was the best they had, though, and it made him happy.
He met her eyes and gave a half-smile. She returned it with her own warm, encouraging one. Sometimes, it was easy for her to forget that he was the optimistic one.
He left a few moments after that, leaving her alone with her thoughts.
She thought back on when they used to labor in the fields together; those had been the worst times. Every day was spent in the blistering sun, pushing plows through the scorched earth, or pulling pests from the plants, or harvesting meager bounties. The overseers were cruel with their whips and everywhere you looked, peoples’ eyes held nothing but despair.
She shivered and tried not to let the tears run down her cheeks. She was glad when Nommia entered a minute later.
Her younger sister was the polar opposite of Nikkea in everything but appearance. She was lithe, strong from the lifetime of hard labor, and had the same raven hair as her twin. Her ruler straight hair fell all the way to her mid back and Nina had always puzzled over how she could stand to have all that there to catch heat. Nommia’s heart shape face had the same big, jade-green eyes as her brother and her older sister, but hers held mischief. Her full lips were usually curved in a smirk or pursed in a scowl.
Where Nikkea was quiet, calculating, and even shy; Nommia was often loud, arrogant, and often didn’t think past the initial idea to find the consequences. She enjoyed working with her hands and went from working the fields, to building duty, and she sometimes even lent a hand in the blacksmith shop. The downside to her personality was that she also liked to fight; Nina couldn’t even begin to count how many times her sister’s quick wit and short temper had landed her in a fight with a guard and a whip to her back.
Nommia strolled through the door with her hair in dripping strands down her back. She smiled to Nina and pulled something from her bedroll.
“You should really learn to dry your hair,” Nina whispered.
“It’ll dry on its own,” Nommia shrugged. “It’ll cool me off in the fields.”
“You’re working the fields today?” Nina was surprised. “What about the smithy?”
“Can’t.” the younger answered simply. “I punched out ol’ Crooked Nose yesterday. Got him right on the nose, too! That ba-”
“Nommia!” Nina exclaimed quietly.
“Sorry,” she said quickly but didn’t sound apologetic in the least. “Well, he took me off smithy duty and carpentry for the next two weeks.”
“You should stop fighting,” the older girl said sadly.
“And you should stop fussing,” Nommia answered petulantly. “Shouldn’t you be mothering over the children now or something?”
She turned her back to Nina and finished brushing out her hair with the comb she kept hidden in her blankets. The small, marble comb was one of the only things they had left of their mother and Nommia would have killed to keep it safe; it was a wonder she hadn’t had to yet, after almost sixteen years of living in that hellhole.
Nina left the small, shabby building soon afterwards, deciding not to fight with Nommia for once. She went about her routine and her mind wandered back to the twins.
*Every morning was the same thing; Nikkea would find some place to meditate or open the library early and Nommia would either bathe or stretch out before getting to work. The three of them would meet to go to breakfast together and then the day’s work would begin and they would separate again.
They learned early on that getting up before everyone else was a benefit that was worth losing a little sleep. On the other hand, they had to be sure to wake late enough that the guards didn’t get suspicious and punish them.
The guards were sadistic and cruel. They looked for even the slightest reason to inflict pain.
**Honestly, she wanted to hate them, but she couldn’t bring herself to harbor those feelings for them. Nikkea felt utterly sorry for them and looked upon the men with sorrowful pity, while Nommia hated them with fiery passion. She’d voiced many times how she’d enjoy killing them all for the torment they put the slaves through.
Nommia was punished often though it never seemed to dampen her spirit. If anything, it made her even angrier. She was familiar with every form of punishment used in the slave camp. The worst was probably whipping.
They would take the slave to a raised dais in the middle of the slave quarters so that as many slaves as possible would see, they even pulled some from work to watch. They tied the slave’s arms to the platform and made them kneel on the hard, rough wood. They would make them remove their shirts, men’s would be completely off and women’s would be just pulled over their heads unless the guards were feeling especially cruel. And then, the pain began.
The punishments never had a specific limit on lashes. Some were two or three, others were more like thirty. It depended on whether the guard was having a bad day or had a grudge to settle. Along with lashes, the force the taskmaster used differed too. On a bad day, he could draw blood, and a good day he could just leave a little sting. The only relief they had was that there was only one taskmaster and he only took a preset number of slaves a day, which was announced at breakfast.
*please add Nina's routine. i was thinking she works with the children... maybe
** how's she feel about them???
Nina awoke with a gasp or… what would have been a gasp. A hand covered her mouth tightly, keeping her from making a sound or sitting up. She almost attacked the person above her before she recognized the face as Nikkea’s. He slowly released her after she nodded calmly at him.
She sat up slowly and quietly, careful not to disturb the sleeping figures around her. She stood and began to roll up her bedroll. She stuffed it among the two that belonged to her siblings, knowing that none of the slaves in her block would steal from her but not being foolish enough to think that none of the guards or any other slave wouldn’t. The hopeless would do anything and the slave camp was designed to drain all hope.
Her mind strayed to her dream. She’d had that same dream multiple times before so the familiar mixture of hope and despair that sat on her tongue was no surprise. She knew the ending like her siblings’ faces but, every time, she was always shocked at the ending, like she was seeing it for the first time, every time.
Nommia and Nikkea were familiar with her reaction, too. They recognized her sleeping habits when she was having the dream and were always there to make sure she woke quietly. The first time, she had waked up nearly half the slaves in their block and they weren’t too happy about that. So, whenever one of the two would notice her fidgeting in her sleep, one would stay to be sure she remained silent.
She looked over at Nikkea, who was nearly finished putting away his things. She took in the strong jaw, the jet black, neatly kept hair, and the round, jade-green eyes. He was a few inches taller than her and thin, but not like the rest of the slaves. He was all lean muscle, deceptively so, though he didn’t enjoy using it. His passion was knowledge, whether in books or word of mouth, the more he was able to learn, the happier he was. His face had livened up when he finally got moved to the library; if a handful of shabby scrolls and one or two books that were nearly falling apart could be called a library. It was the best they had, though, and it made him happy.
He met her eyes and gave a half-smile. She returned it with her own warm, encouraging one. Sometimes, it was easy for her to forget that he was the optimistic one.
He left a few moments after that, leaving her alone with her thoughts.
She thought back on when they used to labor in the fields together; those had been the worst times. Every day was spent in the blistering sun, pushing plows through the scorched earth, or pulling pests from the plants, or harvesting meager bounties. The overseers were cruel with their whips and everywhere you looked, peoples’ eyes held nothing but despair.
She shivered and tried not to let the tears run down her cheeks. She was glad when Nommia entered a minute later.
Her younger sister was the polar opposite of Nikkea in everything but appearance. She was lithe, strong from the lifetime of hard labor, and had the same raven hair as her twin. Her ruler straight hair fell all the way to her mid back and Nina had always puzzled over how she could stand to have all that there to catch heat. Nommia’s heart shape face had the same big, jade-green eyes as her brother and her older sister, but hers held mischief. Her full lips were usually curved in a smirk or pursed in a scowl.
Where Nikkea was quiet, calculating, and even shy; Nommia was often loud, arrogant, and often didn’t think past the initial idea to find the consequences. She enjoyed working with her hands and went from working the fields, to building duty, and she sometimes even lent a hand in the blacksmith shop. The downside to her personality was that she also liked to fight; Nina couldn’t even begin to count how many times her sister’s quick wit and short temper had landed her in a fight with a guard and a whip to her back.
Nommia strolled through the door with her hair in dripping strands down her back. She smiled to Nina and pulled something from her bedroll.
“You should really learn to dry your hair,” Nina whispered.
“It’ll dry on its own,” Nommia shrugged. “It’ll cool me off in the fields.”
“You’re working the fields today?” Nina was surprised. “What about the smithy?”
“Can’t.” the younger answered simply. “I punched out ol’ Crooked Nose yesterday. Got him right on the nose, too! That ba-”
“Nommia!” Nina exclaimed quietly.
“Sorry,” she said quickly but didn’t sound apologetic in the least. “Well, he took me off smithy duty and carpentry for the next two weeks.”
“You should stop fighting,” the older girl said sadly.
“And you should stop fussing,” Nommia answered petulantly. “Shouldn’t you be mothering over the children now or something?”
She turned her back to Nina and finished brushing out her hair with the comb she kept hidden in her blankets. The small, marble comb was one of the only things they had left of their mother and Nommia would have killed to keep it safe; it was a wonder she hadn’t had to yet, after almost sixteen years of living in that hellhole.
Nina left the small, shabby building soon afterwards, deciding not to fight with Nommia for once. She went about her routine and her mind wandered back to the twins.
*Every morning was the same thing; Nikkea would find some place to meditate or open the library early and Nommia would either bathe or stretch out before getting to work. The three of them would meet to go to breakfast together and then the day’s work would begin and they would separate again.
They learned early on that getting up before everyone else was a benefit that was worth losing a little sleep. On the other hand, they had to be sure to wake late enough that the guards didn’t get suspicious and punish them.
The guards were sadistic and cruel. They looked for even the slightest reason to inflict pain.
**Honestly, she wanted to hate them, but she couldn’t bring herself to harbor those feelings for them. Nikkea felt utterly sorry for them and looked upon the men with sorrowful pity, while Nommia hated them with fiery passion. She’d voiced many times how she’d enjoy killing them all for the torment they put the slaves through.
Nommia was punished often though it never seemed to dampen her spirit. If anything, it made her even angrier. She was familiar with every form of punishment used in the slave camp. The worst was probably whipping.
They would take the slave to a raised dais in the middle of the slave quarters so that as many slaves as possible would see, they even pulled some from work to watch. They tied the slave’s arms to the platform and made them kneel on the hard, rough wood. They would make them remove their shirts, men’s would be completely off and women’s would be just pulled over their heads unless the guards were feeling especially cruel. And then, the pain began.
The punishments never had a specific limit on lashes. Some were two or three, others were more like thirty. It depended on whether the guard was having a bad day or had a grudge to settle. Along with lashes, the force the taskmaster used differed too. On a bad day, he could draw blood, and a good day he could just leave a little sting. The only relief they had was that there was only one taskmaster and he only took a preset number of slaves a day, which was announced at breakfast.
*please add Nina's routine. i was thinking she works with the children... maybe
** how's she feel about them???
Prologue
She ran, ran like she never had before. All she could hear was the sound of her own breath, heaving in and out of her lungs, the crunching of fallen leaves and stray twigs under her bare feet, and, finally, the sounds of barking dogs and shouting men. The feel of the wind on her face was a comfort, cooling her burning cheeks and drying the tears leaking from her eyes.
She leaped over tree roots and ducked under vines, never slowing, even when branches caught onto the meager rags that she wore for clothing. She tried not to look back as the men began to sound closer. She had to run faster, had to get away from the guards, so she pushed her legs to churn just a little faster.
She had to get away, if it was the last thing she did, she had to get help for her family, for her friends. She had to keep going because her siblings were certainly being punished for her daring attempt at an idea none of them could remember knowing: freedom.
At that thought, she caught another sound, a sickeningly familiar sound; she heard the crack of a whip. She stumbled as she heard the cry of pain that followed. It might have been her imagination, but it had sounded like her brother…
She forced her mind past it; if she pondered it, she wouldn’t be able to stop herself from turning and running back to help. Instead, she focused on the moss underfoot. It was a nice change to the dirk, twigs, and rocks that cut at the soles of her feet. It grew from the walls of the slave quarters and she lined her sleeping blankets with it. She liked to think it was the only thing that kept her warm… and sane.
She stumbled, snapping her back to the present. The dogs sounded so close that the hair on the back of her neck stood on end. She dared a peek back, and instantly regretted it as she forced her weary legs to an even greater speed. She could actually see the individual points of light from the torches the hunters carried. She sprinted ahead, heedless of direction, having no idea of where she might end up. As long as it was away from there she'd be happy... at least, she would be when she got help for her siblings. But what was she, an orphan girl from a kingdom in ruins, supposed to do?
Her breath burned a path from her throat to her lungs and her mouth begged for water but she pushed on. Even though she had nothing and knew nothing of where she would go, she had to keep up hope; more than just their three lives depended on it.
She wished that the twins were with her; Nommia would be picking up rocks as they ran and pelting the hunters with them every now and then; she would probably scout ahead as well, since she was faster than Nina. Nikkea, the bookworm, would be considering things logically, trying to find a way to talk their way out if they got caught.
She felt her footing start to slip as she stepped on a patch of mud. The rain that had fallen the day before had made parts of the ground, that hadn’t dried yet, treacherous. She hadn’t taken that possibility into consideration. Actually, she hadn’t really planned on any of what was currently taking place. That ever present shadow of doubt reared its fanged head in her mind once more and she had to fight back the tears.
She chanced another look back and that’s when it happened; she slipped and began to tumble to the ground.
Time, the ever marching soldier, slowed as she threw her arms out before her and tried to catch herself on something, anything. She saw the rock, half buried in the mud, and heard the growls and barks from mere feet behind her. Her mouth opened in a gasp and her stomach lurched with gravity. Suddenly, time was back to its original self and she felt the impact of the ground on her side.
She didn’t have time to think before her head smashed into the rock with a sickening ‘thud’ and her vision swam. She felt her consciousness begin to slip but she managed to hold on long enough to see her followers and their dogs burst into view. She heard their laughter and their congratulations as her vision went black.
It was all over. She had failed… maybe.
She leaped over tree roots and ducked under vines, never slowing, even when branches caught onto the meager rags that she wore for clothing. She tried not to look back as the men began to sound closer. She had to run faster, had to get away from the guards, so she pushed her legs to churn just a little faster.
She had to get away, if it was the last thing she did, she had to get help for her family, for her friends. She had to keep going because her siblings were certainly being punished for her daring attempt at an idea none of them could remember knowing: freedom.
At that thought, she caught another sound, a sickeningly familiar sound; she heard the crack of a whip. She stumbled as she heard the cry of pain that followed. It might have been her imagination, but it had sounded like her brother…
She forced her mind past it; if she pondered it, she wouldn’t be able to stop herself from turning and running back to help. Instead, she focused on the moss underfoot. It was a nice change to the dirk, twigs, and rocks that cut at the soles of her feet. It grew from the walls of the slave quarters and she lined her sleeping blankets with it. She liked to think it was the only thing that kept her warm… and sane.
She stumbled, snapping her back to the present. The dogs sounded so close that the hair on the back of her neck stood on end. She dared a peek back, and instantly regretted it as she forced her weary legs to an even greater speed. She could actually see the individual points of light from the torches the hunters carried. She sprinted ahead, heedless of direction, having no idea of where she might end up. As long as it was away from there she'd be happy... at least, she would be when she got help for her siblings. But what was she, an orphan girl from a kingdom in ruins, supposed to do?
Her breath burned a path from her throat to her lungs and her mouth begged for water but she pushed on. Even though she had nothing and knew nothing of where she would go, she had to keep up hope; more than just their three lives depended on it.
She wished that the twins were with her; Nommia would be picking up rocks as they ran and pelting the hunters with them every now and then; she would probably scout ahead as well, since she was faster than Nina. Nikkea, the bookworm, would be considering things logically, trying to find a way to talk their way out if they got caught.
She felt her footing start to slip as she stepped on a patch of mud. The rain that had fallen the day before had made parts of the ground, that hadn’t dried yet, treacherous. She hadn’t taken that possibility into consideration. Actually, she hadn’t really planned on any of what was currently taking place. That ever present shadow of doubt reared its fanged head in her mind once more and she had to fight back the tears.
She chanced another look back and that’s when it happened; she slipped and began to tumble to the ground.
Time, the ever marching soldier, slowed as she threw her arms out before her and tried to catch herself on something, anything. She saw the rock, half buried in the mud, and heard the growls and barks from mere feet behind her. Her mouth opened in a gasp and her stomach lurched with gravity. Suddenly, time was back to its original self and she felt the impact of the ground on her side.
She didn’t have time to think before her head smashed into the rock with a sickening ‘thud’ and her vision swam. She felt her consciousness begin to slip but she managed to hold on long enough to see her followers and their dogs burst into view. She heard their laughter and their congratulations as her vision went black.
It was all over. She had failed… maybe.
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