The Coming of Power (Chapter 11-Jan 7)

[xX_Flame_Kissed_Xx]

Prologue

The early morning sun cast a golden sheen on the world, causing all the plant life to glow. Sitting on an old fallen tree, worn smooth with age, was a man. He was just sitting in the light, watching the wildlife dance on the trees and grass that surrounded him. He was not old, looking only about twenty, but he reveled in the freedom and beauty of the wilderness. The man watched as a squirrel jumped from branch to branch, searching for his friend so they could share the feast he had harvested. A songbird was feeding a juicy worm to its newborn chicks. A fox stalked almost noiselessly through the foliage as it searched for an easy breakfast. The man took a deep breath of the forest, with the crisp smell of fresh fallen leaves to the hint of wild flowers carried on the breeze from the field about a quarter mile off. A sudden crashing through the undergrowth and the bubbly laughter of children heralded the arrival of visitors in the man’s sanctuary, but he smiled good-humouredly.

“Mr. Sorcerer! Please, won’t you do some magic? Please Mr. Sorcerer, won’t you?” The sorcerer smiled at the small children who bounced up and down in front of him with eagerness. He got visitors every now and then, but he enjoyed it when the village children came in search of a story. “Now, my children, which story do you want to hear?” The kids looked at each other, each face glowing with excitement. The two girls giggled, and the single boy spoke up, “My sisters want to hear about Alva, and the unicorn, and the Order, and th…” He stopped as the man laughed, but it was a kind laugh. “Alright, I will tell he story of Alvamaria Mar’Paluo and how she changed Galoria forever” He shifted slightly. “Best get comfortable though, this story is very long when told right, and I plan to tell it right.”

And so the man began the story. “A long time ago, in a small village, there lived a farm girl. Her life had remained relatively carefree, and was not without the simple accommodations of quality cloths and a full plate at dinner, but her heart wanted more. She wanted to be free of the farm and its hassles. Little did she know he chance would come so soon, as a matter of fact, just after she turned fifteen…”  

[xX_Flame_Kissed_Xx]

Chapter 1: Market Days

Lying in bed, unable to drift into the haven of sleep, was a 15 year-old girl with the name of Alvamaria Mar’Paluo, but most people just called her Alva. She had a kind brother of 18, Torap, and a calloused father of 39, Paluo. Her mother, Liliwa, had mysteriously disappeared from everyone’s knowledge 8 years earlier. Some of the villagers say that she ran away into the forest, and others say she is held captive in Vayaline by the elves, but no one really knows. Alva was very young at the time, so she remembers her mom in only a few small memories stored in the far corners of her mind. There is one memory, though, that stays strangely clear, and she remembers it whenever she is sad or lonely. In the memory, her mom sits under an old oak tree with Alva curled up into her lap. Her mom was singing a soft tune, but Alva can never remember the words afterwards, only the melody. Simple as the memory may be, Alva treasured it as a part of her mother that is not lost to her.

Alva raised her slender frame out of the bed and pulled on a worn, cast off tunic and well-worn pair of breeches. Just as she was about to go down the ladder out of her room, which was really the loft of the barn, she stopped to peer into the mirror for a moment at her lanky form. Normally, she would rush down the stairs into the kitchen to enjoy a pleasant meal with her brother and father but they were away at the market to sell the crops of the year. They had already been gone from the farm for one day, and were expected to be home in only two days time.

Alva looked at the girl staring at her with a thoughtful gaze. She was a tall, skinny girl with wavy auburn hair that hung elegantly down to her thighs. Large, round, and mysterious green-brown, hazel eyes were set in the face above a petite but sensitive nose with a delicate mouth below. Despite her happy disposition, only Torap could make her truly laugh. Her mom used to love to make her laugh, and Alva would do so freely and often around her mom, but after she left, it was as if she had taken all of Alva’s laughter with her. The closest she came to her true laugh anymore was a grin, and even a smile in rare cases.

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A tall man woke up to a pleasant morning in the Vayaline, a place of tall, lush trees and scampering wild life that covers the southeastern region of Merla. Beside his soft pallet a male unicorn grazed on some of the fresh, green grass. The unicorn was young, only a few years old, but he was almost fully-grown. He had a cloud white coat that felt softer than any silk and a powerful cream-colored horn reaching up from the crown of its head. It had unnaturally pale blue eyes that seemed fathoms deep. Suddenly the man started out of his drowsy state and jumped to his feet. His powers had sensed a creature rapidly getting closer. The man gathered is belongings and started off with the unicorn following.

Quickly, the pair moved through the tangle of ancient trees and thick undergrowth, desperately trying to evade the creature that was gaining on them so swiftly. The poor young unicorn was starting to tire and his breath was beginning to come in short, painful wheezing gasps. The man could not force the unicorn to go on much longer for that would surely kill the poor thing. The man began to prepare a fire circle to protect them, but fear and his already depleted magic slowed his movement. The doomed man was not fast enough and the creature came out of the forest into the clearing.

This colossal beast was a werewolf with filthy, matted brown-gray fur. He stood on his hind legs and roared in raw, animal fury to the moon. Then the werewolf knocked the man to the ground with one, almost lazy, swipe of its gigantic paw. The man jumped up and attacked the creature with a long dagger from the belt at his waist. This angered the werewolf, and it attacked viciously with claws and fangs, but the unicorn attacked it from behind with his horn. The werewolf threw the man at a rock like he was no more than a rag doll. The man’s vision was blurring and he began to realize he was going to go out cold all too soon. He cursed Lady Fate’s disfavor and began the killing spell. It was known by few, but still outlawed, and the use of it was punishable by death, or worse. This magic required him to use some of his life force because his powers were still too weak, and so the man’s last sight before the shroud of unconsciousness covered him was the werewolf dropping to the ground and the unicorn coming over to him.

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Alva sighed and jumped recklessly through the hatch, skipping the old ladder altogether. In the barn, Alva could smell the brisk autumn air mixed smoothly with more barn-like smells like the strong smell of the cow and the rich smell of the horses. Underfoot, the floor was soiled and so begun Alva’s first task of the day, the mucking-out of the barn. She grabbed the old rake and started to move all the putrid droppings into a pile, carefully getting all the corners and edges of the room so to neutralize the smell. After there was a sufficient pile in the middle of the barn, Alva loaded it all into a barrel and moved it to the outside back of the barn for use during the planting season.

On her way back to the barn her waist emitted a loud gurgle and she said, with a slight grin,“ I suppose I should take care of you soon.” With that, Alva fed all the animals rather more quickly than usual, and then turned south to her garden. It was little more than a large patch of ground in the first glance, but Alva was able to grow all the herbs and most of the foods that were needed for nice fresh cooking in its small area. In the center of these plants was a small, square mat, just the right size for one person to sit and relax on during a nice day.

Alva sat on the mat and braided back her hair to keep it off of her face. She looked around and found a carrot and two tomatoes that she had not yet picked and stored inside, and they made a fine breakfast. Behind her she heard a loud groan and the rustling of the branches and bushes at the edge of Vayaline. She jumped up quickly and turned towards the forest to see what had made the noise. She saw a flash of bright white disappear into the forest, but was too distracted by the limp body lying on the ground in an unnatural position to take much notice. “Oh merciful Mother.” Alva gasped and rushed to the figure that was so obviously hurt.

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The figure knew that he was being taken somewhere by the unicorn but he was too weak to do anything about it. After what seemed like ages of traveling through trees and shrubs that smacked his limp body, the unicorn stopped. It was a sunny day and there was a faint smell of herbs on the air, but his barely registered to his dazed. The unicorn tilted its head forward and half lowered its front legs, allowing the figure to slide off too the ground with only a sore groan. There was some movement from a little ways off and the unicorn fled into the forest as fast as light. The figure was slipping back into unconsciousness as he saw a girl rushing in his direction with worry on her face.  

[xX_Flame_Kissed_Xx]

Chapter 2: The Stranger

When Alva got to the man, she saw, eyes wide in horror, the extent of his injuries. His raven-black hair was matted with dry blood and his body hung limp and crumpled on the ground. His right leg was angled awkwardly right above the knee, and it was obvious that his leg was broken and so he would need it set very soon or it would not heal properly. Alva ran back to the old barn and looked around for a decent place to lay the injured man down so she could tend to his wounds. After finding no such suitable place already prepared, she laid out a fresh if not entirely soft bed of hay in the empty horse stall abreast to the southeast side of the barn. Some mysterious presence in her whirling mind told her over and over again that nobody could know that he was there. It whispered that such knowledge could mean both of their deaths.

Alva returned to the hurt man and carefully lifted his form on to her back. He was not particularly large, but as dead weight it was almost more than Alva could manage. Alva walked as fast as she possibly could with this new weight on her back, and she was just barely able to make it to the makeshift hospital bed without dropping him. While he was lying there safely in the barn, she went and started to gather other supplies she needed. First, she ran to the house. It was not a particularly large house, only two rooms including a single bedroom shared by Paluo and Torap and a main room that had the stove for cooking in one corner. She was careful to get a large metal pan usually used when she made soup for dinner and a flint rock from the shelf above the stove. Then left the house and went out into the yard. Alva then filled the pot with water from the well that lay close to the back of the house.

Back in the barn, she sat down a safe distance from the pallet and began to build a fire. Alva was running in a daze from shock as her mind raced. Alva had fixed her brother’s arm when it had broken, and she had done the same to Paluo’s fingers to many times to count, but never before had she been required to set a leg. It was a large bone, and she did not know if the strength was in her to do it properly. Still in a daze, she walked around gathering all that she needed. Out at the side of the barn, she got two large flat stones and about five sticks, three thick to sustain the greedy fire, and two slim and long, one to act as a splint and the other to stir the pot of water. Moving back into the old barn, she laid one of the flat stones over the middle of the smoldering sticks, being careful not to totally squelch out the flames. On the now warming stone, Alva put the metal pot of water and waited for it to begin to boil.

Alva went up to her loft and opened her chest of clothes. Lying in the chest was a white dress saved for when she went to town, which in its self was rare. It had been at least a year since she had had any chance to wear it, but was too small and had been expanded to many times already to do so again. Alva grabbed the dress and jumped out of the trap door, landing solidly on the ground and having skipped the ladder altogether. She tore the dress into long strips and put as many as would fit into the now boiling pot. Now, she took out one of the dampened strips and began to wipe off the blood on the man’s face so she could find where the source of all the blood was. She found that the source of this bloody mess was at the back of the head close to where the neck met the skull. She moved the black hair that surrounded this wound and then turned to the extra stone and the pot of now sterile bandages.

She placed the second stone right next to the other, a little off center on the fire, and took the bandages out of the pot with the stirring stick and put them on the now warming stone to dry. The man was stirring and mumbling nonsense. Alva had to fix his leg quick, before he regained his lost consciousness, or she may not be able to restrain him well enough. She was a strong girl for her age after years of working on a small farm, but he was still a grown man and, by looks of his arms, could easily overpower her if he wished to. Alva checked the drying of the bandages and found them ready. She hesitated. His body shone with the fine sweet of fever and pain, and she did not even know if she could trust him in her house. Alva was no fool, she had heard just as every girl does of the evils of some men, but try as she might, she could not picture him to be so evil. She took these over to the man, positioning herself so she could get up quickly if he should wake, but so she still had the proper leverage with which to set the broken bone in the leg. Alva winced at the thought of how much pain this would cause but it had to be done.

Alva took a deep breath and, with one hard push, was able to straiten the leg. The man sat bolt upright and screamed with the sudden pain. He turned his watering eyes on her face and then went out cold. Alva shakily sighed and fixed the splint to the leg with the bandages that had dried completely on the hot stone. Alva took a deep, steadying breath before addressing the man’s head. She took out three of the wet strips from the pot and wrapped them around his head after wiping as much of the dried blood off as she could. Then she took the two remaining dry strips and wrapped them over the damp ones on his head. She began to clean the minor scratches and cuts since she could not see anymore truly serious injuries. Around his left ankle she noticed strange markings twisting and twining in an intricate pattern. It appeared to be a tattoo of a vine riddled with thorns wrapping around his ankle, but in the middle of the out facing side of his ankle, the tangle thins and a pair of malevolent eyes peer through a fog and the vines.

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Pain. A shooting, bone-grinding pain in his leg woke the injured man from his unconsciousness with a raw scream. He then saw the same girl that he had last seen coming towards him on the hill, but now she was standing only a few paces away. He saw fear and pity in her eyes, and felt his leg in a splint and a bandage around his head. This stranger was very kind and was caring for a man she did not even know. Before he could show his gratitude in any way, or even say a single word, he was again lost in unconsciousness.

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The man went in and out of consciousness for the entire following day. His fever was soaring and he broke out constantly into cold sweats and chills. Alva sighed. She had done all she could for the man. She had started out her day the same as she started any other. She went about her chores and duties but there was something else on her mind. Alva constantly went to the stall to change the man’s bandages to try and make him more comfortable or put a cold rag on his forehead in a futile attempt to bring the fever down. He was not getting well, but he was not getting any worse either.

So her day went on and she did all her chores, but she was constantly worrying about the mysterious, dark man. At last his fever broke as the last rays of the sun were going down over the horizon. “Now we both may get some rest. But, you strange man, who are you? How did you get so hurt?” Alva said with an exhausted sigh and went up the ladder to the chest at the foot of her bed. The chest was almost empty because the man was using most of the spare blankets it normally held. There was one that was almost the right length left, so she grabbed and pulled it out. She curled up just inside the stall, so she would be close if the man should need more tending to. Her mind refused to calm enough to allow any sleep. Would the man be okay? Had she done all that she could?

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The man stirred and slowly woke from the first true sleep he had had in two days. He sat up and looked at his surroundings. He was on the straw floor of a horse stall and piled with blankets. Three of the walls appeared to be strong wood, and the other was open with the girl curled up in a small blanket just inside. Why in the Great Mothers name is she so nice to me? Would she still be if she knew who I was? The man tried to sit up, but fell back and groaned at the harsh pain in his leg and head.  

[xX_Flame_Kissed_Xx]

Chapter 3: The Stranger Wakes

Alvamaria’s eyes shot open at the voice. It obviously came from the man, but it was deeper than she thought it would have been. She sighed and crossed the stall to check his bandages. The gash on his head had stopped bleeding and was healing quickly but she put on new, clean bandages to prevent any infection. Then, when she pulled back the blankets to check his leg, he asked, “May I ask you a question?” Alva looked up into the man’s eyes. She realized now that they were an amazing ebony as dark as his hair. She replied in a soft voice barely above a whisper, “If I may also ask some of you.” And Alva went back to examining his leg. “What is you name?” asked the man, as he seemed to search her face for the answer to a different question. “Alvamaria, and what are you called?” “Rhaza.” Then the man continued with a questioning gaze, “Next question: Why did you take me in?” Alva flinched and stood up as she finished her work and gave him a hurt glare as she replied, “Is there I reason I should not? Did you expect me to just leave you there, bleeding and dying?”

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Rhaza sighed as she turned away and then said softly, “ I’m sorry. I really am glad you took me in, I just wanted to know why you would do so for a complete stranger.” Alva replied in a dry voice, empty of any emotion, “I’ll get you some breakfast and some of my brother’s cloths for you to change into, but please stay here until I get back.” With that she went up the ladder and came down in a sky blue dress. Then a thought hit him. What happened to the unicorn? Alva had said nothing so he must still be in the forest. I will have to leave as soon as possible.

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Alva traveled to the house in complete silence. She grabbed an apple and a strip of dried meat. Alva went into the bedroom, and looked around at the clutter. This was te one room she did not clean, leaving it to the boys to keep their own space clean. Torap was not likely to notice an old shirt and pair of breeches disappearing. He probably wouldn’t be mad if he found out that they went to an injured man anyways, but it is more probable that he would never notice their absence from such a mess. Alva was more worried about if they would fit slender Rhaza. After she had chosen the shirt and breeches, she laid them on his bed and put the food on top. Alva pulled on her own dress, and then returned to the barn to find Rhaza exactly where she left him. Alva then laid the cloths out in front of him and sat the small pile of food down. She indicated the food and said, "You need to eat. After you have finished, you probably will want to put those fresh cloths on as well. They may be a bit big for you but they will have to do.” The man, embarrassed, mumbled his thanks and looked awkwardly around. Alva blushed and said, “When you are done dressing, call me, I will only be outside feeding the chickens.” And she left, pulling to barn door just shy of closed behind her.

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Rhaza looked at the clothes and food that Alva had brought him and sighed. He was able to get dressed with minimal trouble though it was a little hard getting the breeches over his splint. Rhaza could tell even without a mirror that they were more than a bit big. Rhaza cleared his throat and called. “I’m dressed!” He saw Alva open the door, emptying one last handful of seeds to the ground for the chickens to greedily peck at.

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Alva put her hand over her mouth to try to smother a grin. With her eyes still dancing but her voice under control, she said, “Can you manage alright with my brothers clothes?” It was obvious he was strong because his muscles were defined, but he was built small and was so skinny. Torap was not exactly what you would call fat, but he was much bigger than this man so his clothes made Rhaza look tiny as they swallowed him in their folds.

Rhaza groaned. “It looks that bad?” Alva sobered up and said, “Sorry, Rhaza. Really it isn’t that bad, its just I’m used to seeing my brother in those clothes, and, well, lets just say he fills them more properly.” And with that she leapt up the ladder giving Rhaza only the barest moment to stumble out of the way. When she came down, Alva was wearing a pair of breeches and tunic much like the ones that Rhaza now wore. Rhaza gave her a questioning look, she said, “Papa thinks that my lovely dresses impractical, and so should be saved for special, proper times, but those are so few that I like to wear them when he won’t notice.” She gave him a small grin and Rhaza looked back at her. His ebony eyes were glittering with an emotion Alva did not recognize, but then his face changed to one of puzzlement. “Do you hear something… A kind of rattling?” Alva listened but she could hear nothing over the normal ruckus of the farm.

But then she heard it. It is Paluo and Torap’s cart, Alva thought with glee, they are home! Her glee turned to horror. What about Rhaza! He could not be seen. “Can you climb the ladder?” Rhaza caught her meaning and looked at his leg, “I can manage myself, but I can’t lift the blankets up as well.” Alva nodded and took the blankets up the ladder. In seconds, she was down the latter and out of the barn, but when she looked back, she saw Rhaza laboriously climbing up the ladder. She hesitated for a second, but it seemed like he would make it to the loft alright. Running to the rough, dirt road, Alva heard more than saw the cart rock slightly as Torap jumped off and ran towards her. Her brother may seem tough on the outside, but on the inside he is sweeter than a small rabbit. When Torap reached her, he scooped her in a bear hug that may even have crushed the air out of a bear, and then he whispered affectionately into her ear, “Papa has a something to tell you. He will tell you at dinner, and please be proper. I must tell you no more.” But Alva didn’t care at the moment, and she whispered back, “I have so much to tell you, I need to talk to you, alone, as soon as possible.”

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The day passed and dinner came in a blur. All day, the three of them were busy putting the new supplies away. Alva prepared a simple dinner for them to enjoy, it was a delicious stew with a slice of fresh bread on the side and a glass of fresh cow’s milk to wash it down. “How have you kept yourself busy?” Paluo asked. Alva heard the question, but also she heard the disinterest. He was trying to lead up to something else and Alva felt a brief shot of unease and glanced at Torap. He was staring silently into is soup “Lets see. Oh yes, Betsle told me a rousing story about old Volcoe and Samil.” Paluo threatened to spray the linen tablecloth with cow milk and Torap burst into laughter at the implication their lazy old cow had told a story about the two horses. The tension of the room dissolved.

“Anything special happen while you two were out in market?” Alva continued, happy with the cheerful atmosphere that now inhabited the room. “Not too much. We did meet a prosperous young merchant. He was a nice boy, going to take over his fathers trade completely soon he said.” Alva froze with her spoon halfway into her mouth as an eerie combination of fear and dread whipped through her. The spoon slowly traveled down to meet the soup again. Paluo continued, “He was a fair man, and he needs a wife. It would be nice, none of the hard toiling that a wonderful young lady such as you should never be forced to do.” A meaningful gaze traveled to Alva’s over-large eyes. With her voice completely steady and empty of emotion she said, “Please, continue.” Paluo gave an audible sigh and said, “Yesterday, before your brother and I left, he asked my permission to marry you. Alva he is a merchant from Gonga. You are 15 and need to find your own place in this world. God knows it should not be as a poor farmers daughter who withers away from a long life of painful farm work.”

“How can you say that papa?” Alva said with the heat of fear and anger flaring in her eyes and her strangled voice. “You want me to go off an marry some spoiled rich boy from an island city? No doubt my days would be filled with cleaning his overlarge house while he explores all of Merla selling his goods. Can you picture me doing that? Honestly papa, do you really believe that I could actually be happy as a prisoner in stone walls…” She was stopped when Paluo stood with anger almost equal to Alva’s in his eyes. He said with a frighteningly cold and quiet voice, “Enough. You will go and marry him with my blessing.” With that Paluo left his half drained cup of milk and empty soup bowl on the table. Only when he was in his room and the door closed did Alva let the tears that had welled up in her eyes start to flow. Alva, with her entire body shaking in confusion and despair, stood and said in a thin watery voice to Torap, “I think … I think I will go to bed now.” Torap tried to grab her into a hug but she ran out of the house too fast.

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Rhaza was startled awake when Alva burst into the barn. He slowly climbed down from the loft. She had gone to the farthest empty stall. Her slender frame was shaking with silent sobs as she leaned into the corner. Rhaza slowly crossed the room as best he could with his splinted leg and put his hand on Alva’s shoulder. “Dear Mother and Goddess,” Rhaza said softly, “What happened? Are you hurt? Should I go and get your brother?” Alva looked up at him. Her eyes were clouded with despair and her face wet with tears, but she still managed to look as beautiful as before. Alva stood and seemed to fill the room with a silent contempt as she said, “Papa wants me to marry some merchant that I have never met. I will never make a proper lady, and no matter how evil my father becomes to me, he can not trap me in stone home forever.” She started to sob again. With a great effort, Rhaza silently listened as the rest of the story came tumbling out. “But I must not refuse my father, ma would not have been pleased. Oh Mother and Goddess help me; I have no idea what will do. It seems I must meet this man anyways.” Alva replied with a sad but deeply determined air. Rhaza sighed and said, “Sadly my kitten, there is nothing I can do to help.” Alva’s face, for the briefest moment, turned confused as she noticed what he called her, but then gave him a weak hug and whispered, “Thanks anyways.”