September 3rd, 2010
The next day, I woke up to an empty room. It wasn’t unusual. I was a heavy sleeper – once I got to sleep, at least – a trait formed from circumstance. My brothers, all older, had jobs, and so had to be up early. My father would be working already as well. He always left before I was up, and usually returned after I was asleep. Almost a year out of school, I should have joined them. Part of me wanted to. The fact that I wasn’t contributing to keeping a roof over our heads and food on the table burned at me with the power only guilt held.
The feeling only intensified as I glanced at the stack of books beside the bed. They had cost an exorbitant amount, putting the family into debt to pay for them. Yet they were our salvation. If I was to join the Academy in the fall, I’d need the knowledge contained in their pages. When I graduated, I’d be able to get a position that paid more than the rest of the family earned. That was the risk that had led my father to buy the books. That was my responsibility.
So when I made my way out to our small kitchen to find some breakfast, I clutched the book I had been reading the night before, The Life of Jarem Nebriah. You can see why I thought it would be a biography. As much as it wasn’t what I expected, it was still an interesting book.
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September 2nd, 2010
It’s interesting to note how full of confusion one’s life typically is. Rarely, if ever, can we truly be certain of anything. Yet we blunder on anyhow, making the best decisions we can with the limited information available to us. Those who make one choice, we label heroes. Those who make the other, villains.
“Loral?” a voice said softly. I jerked my head up out of the book to see my mother standing at the doorway. I hadn’t heard her come in, though whether that was due to my preoccupation with reading, or because the snores coming from the beds around me drowned out all other sound, I wasn’t sure. Three brothers. One room.
I was something of an insomniac.
The candle my mother carried flickered in rhythm with the one by my bed, casting shadows over the room. “Put the book away, dear,” my mother said. “You need to sleep.”
Sighing, I marked my place in the book and set it to the side. It wasn’t that interesting anyway. For a book that was supposed to be about one of the greatest figures in history, it sure sounded a lot like philosophy.
My mother waited until I blew out the candle before she wished me good night and left. Miraculously, I managed to fall asleep.
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September 1st, 2010
That marks the end of Jordel’s story. Read my remarks on it here.
New story (final story!) starts tomorrow. Some comments before it starts can be found here.
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September 1st, 2010
Something flared in my mind, and I grasped at it desperately. It woke to my touch, filling me with a power I didn’t understand at the time. All I knew was I had to do something, anything, to stop that blade from cutting into my neck. The power flooded my mind, and it was like a shimmer passed through the air in front of my eyes. When the power faded to the back of my mind and the shimmer disappeared, the sword continued unhindered. My eyes closed reflexively.
A moment later, the cold steel touched my neck.
I opened my eyes.
The crowd had gone silent. Shock had replaced fear on Salli’s face. It was quickly replaced by something else – anger? Concern? She swung her blade again, this time at my head. I didn’t move, but I felt the same power as before, saw the same shimmer in the air. The steel made no noise as it bounced off of seemingly solid air an inch from my head. Again and again Salli swung at me, and my Ward moved to catch her blows.
My Ward.
Abruptly, Salli stopped attacking me, sheathed her sword, and looked down into my eyes. Around us, the crowd erupted into whispered conversation, like the drone of a thousand bees.
“I’m glad you’re not dead,” Salli said. “But you could have told me you were a Warder.”
“I didn’t know.”
She nodded and smiled sadly, glancing over my shoulder at the gate behind me. Leaning forward, she whispered in my ear. “Goodbye, Jordel.”
Her lips pressed against my cheek, and a moment later she was walking back to her gate, leaving me on my knee in the sand.
I didn’t try to run when the Quis came for me.
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August 31st, 2010
With a sudden burst of speed, Salli launched herself at me, her sword arcing horizontally through the air at waist level. Fortunately, she was far enough away that I would be able to block easily. I shifted my stance, lifting my hammer into the path of her blade – and my foot hit the pool of blood. It skidded. Not much, but enough to throw my balance off and bring me to one knee. I caught myself with the hand still holding my hammer, trapping the weapon on the ground. Salli’s sword, earlier aimed at my waist, was now directly in line with my neck.
There was nothing either of us could do. I was off balance on one knee, and she had committed to the blow. Time seemed to slow as the razor sharp steel inched closer to my neck. I couldn’t think. I couldn’t breathe. If the blade severed my head, the best Healers in the world wouldn’t be able to save my life. And Salli – she would be evicted from competing in the pit, and likely tried for murder as well.
I couldn’t let that happen.
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