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Heart of Sarrador: The Little Flame Chapter 1

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The sound of clashing swords, the grunts and moans of men, the screaming of woman and children hit me like the mountain winds in summer. I could see the fires through the fabric wall of our tent. I could see the small orange orbs of the invader's torches flying around on the other side, setting fire to all they touched. My father stood by the entrance flap, his cloak black in the night with only broad bands of red at his wrists and waist adding detail to him. My mother huddled in the far corner of the tent. She was crying and motioning for me to go to her but my feet were frozen, unable to understand what was happening outside but I knew I was afraid. A shout came from outside our home, calling out in a strange foreign language. Something grabbed me from behind and I let out a cry but tried hard to stifle it when I saw who it was. My father lifted me up in his one hand as if I weighed nothing at all and hurled me towards my mother.
"Take him and run as far as you can, now!" He shouted to my mother. She didn't move, just shook her head, the fire's reflection turning her tears to gold.
"I said…" He stopped short, eyes wide. Just below his chest protruded the tip of an arrow. My mother screamed but stayed put, frozen in the same state as I. My father moaned, a trickle of blood forming on his chin then fell. That was when my mother's panic brought her to flee. Grabbing hold of my arm she practically dragged me out the back flap just as one of the strange invaders pushed though the entry flap. He saw us escape and called to his fellows outside. We made for the hills, once there we would lose them for sure, nobody could navigate these hills as well as my people could, I was sure. Two invaders came galloping after us on horseback, four others following leisurely on foot. They seemed sure they could catch us and looking up into my mothers shining violet eyes, she seemed sure they would too. The men on horseback pulled in front of us, shouting insults in their tongue. My mother drew a dagger from her sleeve, hurling it at the one horseman and it landed true in his neck. He fell from his horse, groping at his throat. The other snarled as he turned his horse, his sword held high above his head. My mother tried to do the same to him but the knife hit his shield and fell to the ground. He lunged at her, stabbing her shoulder. With a scream she fell to the ground, clutching her wounded shoulder tightly.
"Mama!" I cried, too young to comprehend the foolishness of the action. I held onto her and stayed, no matter how many times she told me to run. The man who had survived, got off his horse and walked towards where my mother and I lay, sword swinging by his side. He said something to me that I could not understand. My lack of response seemed to anger him, his face turned red. He pointed his sword at me and said the words again but still I couldn't understand. The others had joined him now, all laughing as if they were strolling in the springtime but their eyes told a different story. One of them pried me from my mother and, with me on his shoulder, began to walk back to the camp.
"Mama!" I screamed as loud as I could. I could see her reaching for me, her face a map of tears and blood. A man stepped in front of my view, sword raised. He turned towards me quickly, almost guiltily then lashed down with it, ending my mother's pain.
"MAMA!"

I awoke with a start. Sweat pouring down my face.
"'Nother nightmare then, Bea?" A woman said standing at the doorway. It was Scionna the cleaning lady, a pink skinned Lith looking as sly as her namesake.
"Oh, Scionna? I don't know… I think they're memories." I said, still foggy-minded with sleep.
"Dreams or memories, matters little now. Sun's almost 'bove the horizon and if the master were to wake without you havin' started your work, you'll be in for a good floggin'." I looked out the window then jumped out of the little hay box I used as a bed.
"Why did none of the others wake me?" I asked, slipping my clean top over my head. We, slaves that is, are only allowed two sets of clothes each and we had to clean them ourselves.
"They did try, they did. You slept as sound as the stones in the fields, you did."
I smiled, chortling at her southern accent and rushed out the door.

My name is Beahblahd, that much I remember from my past. I am what the locals call a Grey. That is due to my skin colouring, which is light grey. I, in fact, come from the land of Sarrador far to the south and far to the east. I was captured and brought to Callador when I had barely seen three summers. In my fourth summer I was auctioned off for five hundred Air, which is only half an Or! A single sheep sells for more. I considered myself a handsome young man for my race, two other Sarradorians worked here and they were older than I by at least fifteen summers and their looks showed it. My hair was cut short, for long hair is a sign of independence here, and it was a fine white in colour with a light golden shine to it. My eyes were violet like my mother's, or so I believed. The looks of someone in a dream may differ from reality. My features were finely chiselled like most Lith's are but there was something else, many of the other Greys said that I looked like a nobleman. This I laughed at, saying the truth, as I knew it. I was a simple tribes boy spirited away into slavery, nothing noble there. Ha ha…

I had to find out what my work was for the day and that meant finding the slave handler. The sun had almost risen above the hills in the east and I knew that the master would be waking soon. Everyday the master Lord Geoffrey Al'Feir (a common surname around these parts) after his breakfast would come to check on all the slaves to see that they were all doing their chores, those who were not or those who were but not doing it well enough were flogged. Unfortunately I have the bad habit of daydreaming and have often met either his stick (he almost broke my back once…) or his whip (the cold line of pain from that still chills me). In all he was a good man, treated us well until we did something wrong. He fed us, gave us shelter, bought us clothes… The list goes on and that is how we were trapped, making us feel guilty at the mere thought of deserting him. He never paid us, of course. That would give us power and drain him of income. I found the slave handler by the stables, a gruff-looking man with one eye closed by a scar that cut right down from his brow to his nose. John Al'Gabh (Another common surname but not so common here as the master's) was his name, his brutish looks belying his almost never-ending supply of good humour. He was a man who liked to have a good drink, get in a good fight and end it all with a good laugh.
"Bit late 'ent you today, Bea?" He said, everyone calls me Bea for short.
"Slept in a bit today. You know what I have to do today?" I asked, breathing deeply from my rush here but almost choking on the heavy smell of horse manure.
"Honesty's always the best policy I say and a good bit of extra sleep does no one harm. The boss wanted you to muck out the stables then help on tilling the land; the First Seed Festival is tomorrow you know."
"First seed already? Gosh! Unlike you, us slaves are stuck working here with no breaks. I hadn't even realised New Year had come and gone." I laughed.
"Hah, you joker you. But you've got visitors today, real high stuff too."
"Visitors? High stuff? What do you mean John?" I had never had visitors before. I wondered if I had done something wrong.
"Evokers in fact. Said they were looking for a Grey by the name of Beahblahd. Don't think you're in trouble though, to all appearances it seemed they wanted to buy you! The master told me to get you ready, dressed in real clothes." I was stunned, why would Evokers want to buy me? I, who am nothing but a simple slave. I, who do my job, maybe daydream a bit but I get it done. I started to have images of me training with them, me becoming an Evoker, protecting the peace by magic and sword… John brought me back to reality.
"Thought I'd lost you for a second there boy. One of these days that daydreaming of yours will get you killed. Now come on, lets find you something to wear." He said.
I shook my head in an attempt to rid myself of my grand imaginings and followed him back to the master's house.

The two Evokers who apparently wished to purchase me were the Lady Sophia De'Aleasa and the Lord Eabhar De'Alcalla (both very uncommon names). Both were humans in the common use of the word (meaning they weren't Lith) yet Eabhar carried a Lith forename. The master was in deep discussion with the two when I was presented to them.
"A very fine set of attire to squander on a slave." Said Lady Sophia, her voice beautiful yet painful and cold at the same time. The master glared at me for a moment then forced a smile.
"Only the best for my slaves, Lady Evoker." He stuttered slightly.
"Really? The poor wretches outside didn't seem to adorn the garments this one carries and he's a Grey too." Commented Lord Eabhar, his voice the epitome of nobility. I didn't like the emphasis on Grey.
"Pardon Lord Evoker. I did not mean to offend, I just wished him to look good in your presence." Master Al'Feir seemed to be almost grovelling, hardly the powerful man with the whip I knew.
"Lady Sophia, do you think this one is the one we seek?" Lord Eabhar asked
"I cannot be sure. He seems about the right age and the similarity is there though that could be my racial ignorance, they do all look alike to me." My fist automatically clenched at the insult but I knew better, my short temper had gotten me in trouble often enough. I took a few deep breaths then continued listening.
"Yes I know but can you sense anything?"
"No. But I am amazed at how he could have the same name." She turned to me.
"Boy, tell me. What is your name?" She asked. Again the derogatory emphasis made me heat up.
"My name is Beahblahd Al'Bhai." I said, using the surname given to me by the master. "Hm… Little Flame the Slave. I have no doubt that Al'Bhai is not your name of birth. Can you not remember your own?" From what I knew Greys did not use surnames and before becoming a slave I did not have one.
"No my Lady…" She cut me off with a snarl.
"I am no Lady of yours, Grey filth. You shall refer to me as Lady Evoker."
"My apologies Lady Evoker. I cannot, I was stolen while I was very young."
"Stolen were you?" She snickered; I was really beginning to hate Evokers. "The throne of Calladun cannot steal that which belongs to it. All belongs to the king in the end, remember that Grey."
"You say you were young. That means you cannot even be sure that Beahblahd is your real name." Lord Eabhar could see where this was going to lead and I must say I was grateful he cut in.
"No, I cannot Lord Evoker but I have lived by that name my entire memorable life so that name is as real to me as can be." Eabhar looked at me then, something strange about the way he frowned.
"You hold yourself like a nobleman and you talk as though you think you are one. That is very unusual in slaves."
"With all respect Lord Evoker, I hold myself as I am. I have held myself like this my entire life and until my back gives way through age I shall continue to hold myself like this."
"Interesting… Lord Al'Feir, you say he has been like this all the time you have had him?"
"That he has, Lord Evoker. But he works the work of two men even when he's daydreaming so I let him get away with his attitude often enough." Master Al'Feir said. Lady Sophia had crossed her arms and looked as though she was feeling left out. To me she seemed less the noble Lady than she did a spoilt little girl not getting her way, her earlier icy coolness vanished.
"So Beahblahd, do you know why we are here asking you these questions?"
"No sir, Lord Evoker." I really didn't but I guessed someone with my name was very important.
"Sophia, is he the one or not?" She glared at Lord Eabhar.
"I doubt it, let us leave this stinking farmhouse." She grumbled. Lord Eabhar sighed and held out a hand to Master Al'Feir.
"Good fortunes to you Lord Al'Feir. Perhaps we shall meet again, the Plains of Min is only so large and there can't be many Beahblahds living as slaves in the region."
"Perhaps Lord Evoker. Best of luck to you as well." With a wave of his hand, Master Al'Feir had me removed by his maids who took me to change out of the clothes I had borrowed. I felt kind of depressed; my imagination had let my expectations rise. Like John said, one of these days my imagination would probably get me killed.
The first chapter of the story I'm slowly but surely working on. If people like it I'll upload the next few chapters. :)
© 2012 - 2024 Okamikurainya
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RoboKitty's avatar
"If people like it I'll upload the next few chapters. :)"
Go for it, I've certainly seen a lot WORSE high fantasy