Fire Born, page 26
“You shall have new clothes,” Qualiarth said, eyeing the soft cotton of Chen’s dress with barely concealed disgust, for in her eyes, it was filth that wasn’t fit to be seen. Certainly not by the eyes of her allies and friends that she’d gathered over the years. And there were quite a few. “I cannot have you walking around in such clothes, can I?”
“I…” spluttered Chen in shock. She hadn’t expected that in the slightest. “Of course, Lady Blight.” She knew to reassure the woman that her words were law, as all slaves did.
“Your job isn’t simply to clean my chambers and clothes,” the highborn Lady said. “I wish for your company. Father believes I need someone with me on my travels. And heaven forbid I bring a man.”
Chen simply stared. She could barely contain the thrill that began to grow within her. This marvellous woman had mentioned new clothes and an opportunity to travel. Not that Chen had much of a choice in the matter, but the excitement was hard to contain.
Yet she knew to leave would break her heart. Haast was all that she had left of her children. If they ever returned to Jerome, the city along the Vasnor Coast, where they had lived most of their life, was where they would come back to if they were alive. And what could be done if she were no longer in Jerome or Romias? Would she ever see them again? Such thoughts consumed her.
Her children were the only comfort she had. Even though Stuart wasn’t hers by blood or birth, she had known and loved his father. She had been there from the very moment Stuart had turned two. He was a small thing, but Stuart had never been big for a baby or a toddler. She suspected he would have a rather small height when he reached adulthood. But that was merely speculation, she couldn’t be sure about such things as that until she saw him with her own eyes. And she hoped, with everything she possessed, all the love and care, that her children would return. But how could such a thing be possible if she were moving from city to city?
Chen wished for the tears that could never come; one mustn’t cry in front of their Master.
Chen looked to the window, staring out at the luminous capital city that stretched wide and far. She had always wished to travel to Romias. The towering spires that almost touched the sky and the tremendous triangular temples were a sight to behold. Chen wished to stay forever, but even then, she knew her heart couldn’t bear it. Her sweet children were gone, and nothing would settle until they had been returned to her.
Chen barely flinched as she was slapped viciously. The golden ring that sat heavily upon Lady Blight’s finger carved a new cut into her pale porcelain skin. “Myra, slave! Are you listening to me?” asked the thunderous woman.
“No!” shouted Chen. She couldn’t bear to hear that name. Not after all, she had lost. She was so distracted by the grief that had possessed her common sense like a beast, she never saw the flying fist. It struck her with a strength that had Chen falling backwards.
She fell to the floor with a thump, ripping another hole along the seams of her ruined dress. Blood dripped from the deep wound on her face, and she gazed upon her blood-stained dress in silent shock. It was merely a few droplets from her running nose, but it was enough. Chen couldn’t help but pray, begging the Gods that her tongue would remain where it was, within the safe confines of her own mouth.
Doreen, she thought with much sadness within her heart. For that was her name.
Or it was, a very long time ago. She hadn’t thought much of her mother and father, for the pain it brought only weakened her. Aidan was another; it made her utterly feeble to the defeating sense of regret. Chen knew she should never have left Andriis.
Qualiarth shook her delicate tanned hand, and the golden rings glinted within the sunlight. “You shall never speak out of turn! Do you understand?”
Chen nodded, her hands clenched furiously. Even now, years later, being treated in such a manner brought about much rage.
“Do you understand?” the Mistress hissed, coolly looking into the crimson eyes of her newest slave.
“Yes,” murmured Chen. “Lady Blight.”
“Good,” spat Qualiarth. Though she showed a brutal sense of anger, the truth was far slyer. She cared little if her slave spoke out of turn, but the bruises upon her new maid’s face brought about # joy.
It may not have always been this way. Qualiarth was the daughter of Lord Blight, the ruling Lord of Romias and half of the twelve realms. She had been raised in such a way where she understood the anger and the brutality that it could cause. The trainers who had taught her to fight weren’t simpletons in the slightest; they were warriors that had slaughtered many without blinking twice. A Sephora was a deadly thing indeed, and there was much to be feared. But Qualiarth knew hatred was expected of her, and she couldn’t be soft or kind in the eyes of her mother and father. If she was, being granted her inheritance wouldn’t be possible. She knew nothing of the world beyond her precious silks and plush materials, and the delicious food was also a boon. Some couldn’t afford such a thing as that.
Qualiarth eyed the torn dress in disdain once more, her long fingers scraping across the holes that could be seen. “Yes,” she said. “This will have to go. Nobody in the Blight household can be seen with such clothes.”
Chen twitched ever so slightly. The mere presence of Lady Blight made her wish to scream. But there was nothing she could do about the cold and calculating woman before her.
“Hm,” hummed Qualiarth, “what colour do you think would suit you the most, my dear?”
“Green,” whispered Chen, “and gold.”
“Mhm,” murmured Qualiarth, “they’re lovely colours. I think you shall suit them.”
Chen wished to smile, but she could not. Such thoughts of wearing her family colours once more brought joy to her heart, but it was limited, for the silver and gold chains were still tight around her neck. There was no escape, no matter how hard she wished for it to be so.
Chen had the greatest of memories that came with green and gold. It was the colour of the land that surrounded Glade Castle.
The high cliff-like rocks were the colour of gold and glinted in the sun. If the rumours were to be believed, the rocks were made of gold itself. But nobody knew for sure, as a Doreen would never let a miner close enough to see. The Doriin Forest that surrounded the glade was green and possessed the brightest of colours.
Thinking upon such land only made Chen yearn for it all the more. After all, it was her home.
“The colours hold great significance to me,” said Chen, speaking out of turn once more, but it didn’t truly bother Lady Blight. She simply frowned, eyeing the slave in interest.
“They do?” she asked. “Whatever for?”
“Green and gold remind me of home.” Chen spoke with much regret. “Doriin Forest was beautiful in sunset. It brought about many colours of red and gold. My father often said it reminded him of the Fire Born.”
Qualiarth snorted in barely concealed amusement, but the disdain remained in her cold brown eyes. “The Fire Born were never real,” she said.
Chen felt the rage rise within her chest, but little could be said on the matter, for a slave knew the consequences of their own rage. And Chen certainly wouldn’t lose her tongue to it.
“My father obsessed over them as well,” Qualiarth continued. But there was deep sorrow within those dark eyes of hers. The most emotion Chen had ever seen from Lady Blight.
“Hurts, doesn’t it?” She sighed. “Being left alone and never cared for. My father works in the Black Temple with the Sephora. It is his dying wish to find all the Fire Borns. He claims that they’ve been reborn into the world with a fist of fire and fury, and their rebirth is rising upon the sun. He believes our very survival counts on them – but we all know they are nothing but myths. My father has only ever been one thing, and that is mad. He’s never held a sense of sanity to him; no, that was always my mother.”
Chen blinked in surprise. There were many rumours about the Fire Borns’ return, but none could be certain.
And any man or woman with even a hint of common sense wouldn’t believe the words that were being spoken. The creatures of fire had long since been gone from the world, as was their magic. The shapeshifters of Daan were all that remained; the island and its twin, Udulre, were the only remaining lines to the fire of old.
Everyone knew this to be so, and no noble or commoner would dismiss this. It was merely the way it was.
The age of equality had passed the moment magic had fled from the twelve realms.
There was nothing left of peace to be found, and all that seemed to have arisen from it was corruption. It was steady, a disease that infected many. The common were downtrodden from the wealthy and their prejudiced manner against those WHO held little gold. It was a crime in the eyes of the Gods, or Chen believed it was.
Chen and Qualiarth looked to the old stone archway in surprise as another strode in. The slave knew nothing of this man, but the fatal beauty that surrounded him was undeniable. Yet she knew with one look that this man was dangerous. He possessed an air of death that tainted all that surrounded him.
Qualiarth positively beamed at the young Lordling and his rather attractive features. He was tall and bound in obsidian black robes that swept the floor.
“Lucien!” she screeched in joy, and Chen couldn’t help but blink in surprise as she threw herself at the young man.
“Lady Blight,” he said in return. Chen shivered at the sound of his voice. It was like velvet, and ever so pleasant to the ears. But there was something wrong with this man. Perhaps it was the way he stood, or maybe it was his dark, ravenous eyes that glanced upon all he could see. He was daunting, a horror that had been swept from the books of myths.
Those dark eyes stared upon her. He was an imposing figure, that much was for sure.
“And who is this?” he asked, looking with a slight recognition in her direction. There was only one family in the history of everything that held such stunning eyes as those.
“My new slave,” said Qualiarth carelessly. Chen held no significance to her in the slightest. The slave was merely a servant in her household, one that certainly didn’t deserve her attention. She had possessed this opinion for those below her for many years now. Nothing would change it; Qualiarth would always carry a sense of prejudice and racism towards those who lived on Andriis.
“Myra-Chen Doreen,” greeted Lucien, looking upon her silver chains in dismay. Slavery had never quite agreed with him, and not for the reasons many expected. It was a way of life, and brought about much money for the people of Haast, but to him, it showed weakness. Andriis has made thousands of golden coins through other means, especially hard work. But Haastians simply sold another instead of facing the possibility of true strength.
Chen gaped at the man in utter disbelief, for he knew her name. “You know of me?” she asked.
“Yes,” smiled Lucien. “I knew your mother as a child. She was such a lovely thing.”
Chen couldn’t felt surprise and caution overtake her. It seemed this man was much older than she thought. He had to be, there was no other way around it. Yet there was a sense of youth to him. How this was accomplished, she would never know!
Qualiarth seemed to be enraged with the words that Lucien’s spoke. Chen could only guess that she possessed great feelings for this stranger. Not that she thought this was too far-fetched, as Lucien was quite the attractive gentleman, and he carried a gentle heart. Or that’s how it seemed, although Chen had doubts. One couldn’t deny that there was a stench of death that lingered within his presence.
“But you are from Haast, are you not?” asked Qualiarth. “What were you doing all the way on the other side of the world?”
“Ah, yes,” laughed Lucien. “My father loved the land of Andriis. I was often left in Glade Castle while he adventured across the lands. But we could never stay long; I’m afraid there was much to be done back home. The only place he truly despised was the Wetlands.”
Chen thought; she didn’t remember this stranger herself, but she supposed he could be telling the truth. Who was she to call him a liar?
“Of course,” giggled Qualiarth, “I’ve heard all about your family feud with the Voluns. I cannot stand them myself. They’re all fools, the whole lot of them.”
Lucien nodded as if he believed this was so.
The sound of running came to Chen’s small ears. The panting sounded as if it was coming from another who had little experience in the art of exercise. It could only be so far away, but when she spoke of it aloud, the Lord and Lady claimed to hear nothing of that nature at all.
“I’m sure there’s nothing to worry about,” Lucien said. “I can hear nothing but us.”
“Very true,” replied Qualiarth, an enormous grin stretched wide upon her lips. She smiled in a manner that held clear infatuation. It was as if she’d believe every word that came from his tongue. But alas, Chen wasn’t affected in such a manner.
Perhaps they couldn’t hear the probable servant that ran through the hallways. Or maybe they did, but didn’t care for the affairs of those who served them.
The wealthy held an opinion for all those that were below them. They thought the common were scum beneath the soles of their feet. The truth was, Chen had once entertained similar thoughts. She mightn’t have believed the common to be scum, but she had held the belief that they were inferior.
It was a rather horrible thing to think indeed. From her time as a slave, she had quickly come to learn that nobody was inferior; there were simply those that held high opinions of themselves. Arrogance and conceit consumed all that they knew. The sound of an exhausted slave, huffing and puffing, gave them no pause of thought. But Chen had known many in the slave quarters that died from running when they didn’t hold the body for it. Exhaustion was a terrible thing when dealt with poorly.
The poor, red-faced servant did reach the room, and his pudgy little legs were close to collapsing. Chen could only feel pity for the round young man, though his Masters clearly didn’t care about his wellbeing. The only good thing they did was keep him well fed.
“Boy,” sneered Qualiarth. “You know not to enter unannounced. I could have you whipped down the streets for such an entrance! Do you want to force my hand?”
The fat little man spluttered that it was no fault of his, and he’d had little choice in the matter when such urgency was placed upon his shoulders. Beneath this, Chen could sense a certain amount of satisfaction. Emotions like these only brought about her curiosity.
The servant boy huffed, gathering the air to speak to the Lord and Lady. “T-There has been an attack, m’ Lord! On the Queschei Temple!”
Chen blinked. “The Queschei Temple?”
The servant boy nodded frantically as if he was terrified of the mere thought. “The Crimson Striders, the Queschei. The slaves have set it on fire!”
Chen knew much later she would be punished for asking about the temple. Still, her curiosity on the matter simply couldn’t be ignored. It was a particular flaw she possessed; her mother had often complained about her consistent habit of sticking her nose where it didn’t belong. Even in times like these, when the slaves had acted out in a rare display of violence, against those who held their chain.
For one moment, Chen could feel hope. She couldn’t dismiss such a notion, as was this a beginning of a rebellion? Chen couldn’t tell, and she imagined it was much too early to even be considering it to be so. But she could smile and hope.
“What!” spat Lady Blight. There was so much rage in her voice, too much to even express.
“It’s true,” she slave said, “Master Wren told me to inform you! They’ve already set fire to three other temples! We don’t even know where they got the weapons from. But the Witches aren’t happy, the Queschei are happy enough to set them on fire.”
“Well,” huffed Lady Blight. “Serves them right!”
Lucien seemed to have nothing to say. His lips remained sealed. Yet he looked to the window in concern. Even now, Chen could see the flames in the distance and the rising smoke. It was as dark as the night sky.
“Tell the Queschei they can have them all burnt,” Lady Blight said. “I certainly don’t care!”
“Now, let's not be so hasty,” Lucien said, stepping in. “We have no clue who was behind this, and how many slaves have committed such an atrocity. If it’s more than a thousand, we can’t simply kill them all off. Think of what it would do to the profit! We’d lose thousands of golden coins simply out of an act of rage.” He frowned at the scene before his eyes.
What a world I live in, thought Chen. Her lips twitched into a smile. Perhaps there was hope after all.
