Prologue
Makata appeared in the court of King Karitas in the year 215 Q.E.; mostly starved and wearing soiled rags, he timidly requested permission to come before the throne. King Karitas was kind, and showed compassion to the orphan boy. He took him as a foster son giving Makata an education becoming of the future king of Lytias.
But a seed of hatred had been planted in Makata long before he arrived in the court; a seed that he kept buried deep within the chambers of his wounded heart. His twisted mind saw every act of kindness in a dark light. Every lesson became a chore to him, as he grew to hate Karitas for trying to dictate his time.
Every meal slipped below the standards that Makata now kept. He had forgotten his days of begging for crusts outside the baker’s shop, while standing ankle deep in mud and sewage; now he considered it his right to a square meal, three times per day, and he was deeply offended if he received a sour apple on his plate.
His hatred continued to grow each day, until he was blinded by it. His every thought revolved around getting revenge on the man who had rescued him; his every waking moment spent planning it. His life was controlled by the darkness.
In the year 220 Q.E., shortly after Makata turned nineteen, he called a soothsayer to his chambers, and demanded that she tell his future. But the woman refused after sensing that Makata's mind was corrupted. However she did as he ordered after he threatened to behead her and her family.
She laid her potions, magic ball and dragon bones out on a silk cloth that she draped across the glass table in his rooms. She lit incense, and then called the spirits to her, to her crystal ball. She told Makata all the things that she heard; that he would be king one day, and that his kingdom would never fall, if he could be patient.
The soothsayer warned Makata that fate would only smile on him if he waited until it was ready for him to assume the throne; that great sorrow would follow if Makata tried to take control. But Makata wouldn’t listen to her warning; he ordered that she be taken from his chambers, and began to plot how he would rule his kingdom, once the people were his.
He soon grew restless and impatient, and the soothsayer’s warning passed from his mind. On the fifth of June, in the year 220, Makata murdered the king; framing it on a harlot that had satisfied Karitas earlier that night.
The harlot, Carlotta, was executed without a trial; and Makata assumed the throne.
Thus Lytias passed into his dictatorship, and the thriving economy died.
Chapter One: Orders
Sweat trickled down my neck as I squinted in the bright sunlight. I wiped my brow roughly and rocked back onto my heels; I glanced around at the bountiful weeds before me before sighing deeply. I hated weeding the garden; but I wouldn’t sulk about it in front of my father. He seemed to feel guilty about me working so much as it was, and I didn’t need to aggravate the problem.
I squirmed out of the long sleeved shirt I was wearing and tossed it over the fence; my boots quickly found themselves lying under it, with my socks crumpled into balls and tossed on the bank by them. I rolled my pant legs up, and then started to tear up the weeds around the tomato plants again.
A shadow passed over me and I heard Kyan, my older brother, clear his throat dramatically. I was on my feet with my arms wrapped around his waist in an instant. He was usually at the bakery working, so I didn’t see much of him.
“Kyan! What are you doing- why are you--"
He chuckled at my enthusiasm, “Hey Tasi.”
I pulled away from him, and looked up into his kind face. He was strange. Most people in our village had light complexions and light hair; but Kyan had dark hair, and his eyes were dark brown. He’d look shady, if it weren’t for the good-natured expression he was always wearing.
He gently wiped my forehead off, “How’d you get dirt all over your face?”
I shrugged, “I’ve been weeding the garden.”
“I see that…I guess I had forgotten that when you’re ten, weeding gets you dirty all over.”
“I’m nearly eleven, you know,” I replied smugly.
“I know. But you’re still only a lowly ten year old now,” he taunted playfully.
I snorted, but found myself lacking a response, so I merely hugged him again and asked, “What are you doing home Kyan?”
“I’m making a delivery for the bakery, and this was on the way, so I thought I’d drop by for a visit. Is Father in the house?”
“Yes…Are you hungry? I’ll get you something to eat,” I offered, as I trotted in front of him.
Makata appeared in the court of King Karitas in the year 215 Q.E.; mostly starved and wearing soiled rags, he timidly requested permission to come before the throne. King Karitas was kind, and showed compassion to the orphan boy. He took him as a foster son giving Makata an education becoming of the future king of Lytias.
But a seed of hatred had been planted in Makata long before he arrived in the court; a seed that he kept buried deep within the chambers of his wounded heart. His twisted mind saw every act of kindness in a dark light. Every lesson became a chore to him, as he grew to hate Karitas for trying to dictate his time.
Every meal slipped below the standards that Makata now kept. He had forgotten his days of begging for crusts outside the baker’s shop, while standing ankle deep in mud and sewage; now he considered it his right to a square meal, three times per day, and he was deeply offended if he received a sour apple on his plate.
His hatred continued to grow each day, until he was blinded by it. His every thought revolved around getting revenge on the man who had rescued him; his every waking moment spent planning it. His life was controlled by the darkness.
In the year 220 Q.E., shortly after Makata turned nineteen, he called a soothsayer to his chambers, and demanded that she tell his future. But the woman refused after sensing that Makata's mind was corrupted. However she did as he ordered after he threatened to behead her and her family.
She laid her potions, magic ball and dragon bones out on a silk cloth that she draped across the glass table in his rooms. She lit incense, and then called the spirits to her, to her crystal ball. She told Makata all the things that she heard; that he would be king one day, and that his kingdom would never fall, if he could be patient.
The soothsayer warned Makata that fate would only smile on him if he waited until it was ready for him to assume the throne; that great sorrow would follow if Makata tried to take control. But Makata wouldn’t listen to her warning; he ordered that she be taken from his chambers, and began to plot how he would rule his kingdom, once the people were his.
He soon grew restless and impatient, and the soothsayer’s warning passed from his mind. On the fifth of June, in the year 220, Makata murdered the king; framing it on a harlot that had satisfied Karitas earlier that night.
The harlot, Carlotta, was executed without a trial; and Makata assumed the throne.
Thus Lytias passed into his dictatorship, and the thriving economy died.
Chapter One: Orders
Sweat trickled down my neck as I squinted in the bright sunlight. I wiped my brow roughly and rocked back onto my heels; I glanced around at the bountiful weeds before me before sighing deeply. I hated weeding the garden; but I wouldn’t sulk about it in front of my father. He seemed to feel guilty about me working so much as it was, and I didn’t need to aggravate the problem.
I squirmed out of the long sleeved shirt I was wearing and tossed it over the fence; my boots quickly found themselves lying under it, with my socks crumpled into balls and tossed on the bank by them. I rolled my pant legs up, and then started to tear up the weeds around the tomato plants again.
A shadow passed over me and I heard Kyan, my older brother, clear his throat dramatically. I was on my feet with my arms wrapped around his waist in an instant. He was usually at the bakery working, so I didn’t see much of him.
“Kyan! What are you doing- why are you--"
He chuckled at my enthusiasm, “Hey Tasi.”
I pulled away from him, and looked up into his kind face. He was strange. Most people in our village had light complexions and light hair; but Kyan had dark hair, and his eyes were dark brown. He’d look shady, if it weren’t for the good-natured expression he was always wearing.
He gently wiped my forehead off, “How’d you get dirt all over your face?”
I shrugged, “I’ve been weeding the garden.”
“I see that…I guess I had forgotten that when you’re ten, weeding gets you dirty all over.”
“I’m nearly eleven, you know,” I replied smugly.
“I know. But you’re still only a lowly ten year old now,” he taunted playfully.
I snorted, but found myself lacking a response, so I merely hugged him again and asked, “What are you doing home Kyan?”
“I’m making a delivery for the bakery, and this was on the way, so I thought I’d drop by for a visit. Is Father in the house?”
“Yes…Are you hungry? I’ll get you something to eat,” I offered, as I trotted in front of him.
“I’m not hungry, though I’ll take a drink,” he paused as he considered me, “But you’d better get more on than that undershirt. I don’t think that Father would approve of seeing you like that.”
“Would he mind?” I questioned sullenly, not savouring the thought of wearing the stifling shirt once more.
“Yep. He’d mind,” Father’s voice answered.
I whirled around and found him sitting on the porch with his legs propped on the banister. He seemed amused to watch me snatch my shirt from the fence, and sauntering towards him bewilderedly. I quickly pulled the shirt over my head, as Kyan took a seat on the porch next to Father.
I sank down in front of their feet, and pressed my back against the banister, as Father looked at me solicitously.
“What, what are-how did you get on the porch?” I asked innocently.
“What, pray tell, were you doing half-dressed in the yard?” Father asked, brushing my question aside.
“I was weeding the garden,” I replied simply.
“Was it really necessary to remove your blouse to do that?” Father asked.
“…The tomatoes are doing grand this year. Have you seen them recently?” I asked.
“Do your bare shoulders help them to grow?” Father asked, smirking as I squirmed at his question.
“…They’re way bigger than they were last year!”
“Are you purposely trying to avoid my question?” Father asked.
“What? No! I’d never do that,” I replied with a scoff, “Gosh. That’s ridiculous. The mere thought of it!”
Kyan laughed and mussed my hair up, “She’s a clever one.”
Father nodded, “That’s for sure; a smooth talker at least.”
“So, um, where are you delivering to?”I asked Kyan, in an attempt to change the topic of conversation.
“Venofer’s princedom,” Kyan nodded.
“That’s all the way in Kelfia, isn’t it?” I asked in awe.
“Yeah, but just barely. He rules this side of Kelfia, and I’m only delivering just over the border.”
“Well you should pay your Aunt Kenna a visit while you’re there; she lives in the south-eastern part of Venofer’s princedom.”
“I know, you’ve told me how to get there before; I do intend to visit her while I’m there. It’s been so long since I’ve seen her though, she might not remember me,” Kyan replied with a laugh.
“How will you get past the border guards? Don’t you have to have special permission to cross the border?” I asked worriedly.
“I…Weren’t you going to get me some water?” Kyan asked tersely.
“I will…But how are you going to get across the border?”
“I’m awfully thirsty Tasi,” Kyan replied.
I sighed, “Alright.”
I dashed into the house, and retrieved a glass from the cupboard. I hastily filled it up with water from the bucket hanging in the corner and dropped a sliver of ice in it from the icebox, before running towards the porch; water sloshed out of the cup and made the wooden floor slick.
I sighed and snatched a rag from the table; as I was wiping up the spilled water I heard Kyan and Father talking in hushed tones, so I paused to listen.
“…I don’t know,” Kyan was saying.
“Well you’d better figure it out. The soldiers aren’t going to just let you waltz across the border with a bagful of bread.”
“I know. I’ll sneak,” Kyan replied.
“You’d better be careful. It won’t be pleasant for you if the soldiers catch you trying to sneak into Barista.”
“I’ll be careful; I promise. I’ll slip across some cold, moonless night, when none of the soldiers will be paying attention to anything but their misery.”
“…I don’t know that this is a good idea,” Father said slowly.
“I can do it Father,” Kyan assured him, “Are you comfortable? Are your legs getting any better?”
I heard shuffling on the porch, and then father sighed deeply; it was hard for him to allow Kyan to take care of him. Father had always been active, and took pride in providing and protecting his family, but ever since that crazy mare bucked him he hadn’t been able to feel his legs.
“No, they’re not… Now don’t change the subject. You know what will happen if they catch you. You’ll wish-“
“Yes Father, I know,” Kyan interrupted, “…Where’s Tasi? You don’t suppose she’s-“
I sprang to my feet, and walked onto the porch briskly, acting completely naive of the danger; it wouldn’t do to let Father and Kyan know that I had just heard their conversation.
“Here’s your water Kyan…Now will you tell me how you’re going to get across the border?” I asked with a perfect innocence.
“Eh, I don’t think that they’ll give me too much trouble. I am only a kid, after all,” he replied with a shrug, pretending as if he weren’t concerned in the least, but I saw the look he exchanged with Father.
“You’re fifteen,” I pointed out.
He was bigger and more mature than most fifteen year olds, and he had a full time job; few people considered him a kid anymore. There was a tense silence between us as Kyan stood and slowly walked down into the yard.
“Well, I should be off…before the bread gets stale,” Kyan stated, as he patted his horse on the neck.
“Bye Kyan! See you soon!” I shouted, trying to alleviate my own fears by being positive.
“Bye Tasi! Goodbye Father,” Kyan replied.
“Goodbye son, be safe,” Father said, as we watched Kyan ride down the road.
We sat in silence until Kyan disappeared around the bend, and then Father put his hand on my shoulder.
“Now, care to explain your shirtlessness?” Father asked.
“Is that even a word?” I questioned, as I stood and moved towards the edge of the porch.
“Yes.”
“Since when?” I question.
“Since I said it and said that it was a word,” Father said with a nod.
I giggled at him, “I don’t think that you can decree whether or not a word is a word…”
“Answer the question,” he ordered, as he scratched his beard in a failed attempt to hide a smile.
“Question? I don’t have any questions…But I do have weeding to do, bye!” I shouted, as I sprinted around the edge of the house.
I was good at avoiding questions; though my father was good at remembering questions, so I didn’t always get out of answering so easily. I smirked to myself about my cleverness as I sank to my knees and resumed weeding the garden.
I had just finished weeding around the tomato plants, and moved on to the peas, when another shadow passed over me. I thought that the shadow belonged to Kyan; that he either forgot to tell me something or that he wanted to scare me, since I shouldn’t be expecting him back so quickly.
“What do you want?” I asked, without even looking up.
“On your feet peasant,” a gruff voice barked at me.
I jumped and looked way up into the face of a large soldier. He was wearing a dented breast plate and a sword on his hip; though he didn’t wear a helmet, so I could see his messy brown hair. He had a large scar that stretched from the bottom of his right eye, over the tip of his nose, and ended just above the left side of his mouth.
“I said get up!” he bellowed, as he kicked me.
I scrambled backwards and rolled to my feet bewilderedly; nothing good happened when Makata’s men came to our township, and I could only pray that this soldier had stumbled upon me by accident. He advanced towards me, and I cowered backwards; step by step we moved through the yard, until my back was pressed against our cottage.
The soldier grabbed the shoulder of my shirt, so I couldn’t run away, and held a letter up in front of my face; I looked at the crisp parchment and golden seal, and then back at the soldier. Surely that the letter wasn’t for me; I hadn’t done anything to offend the dictator, I even referred to him as our king when anyone could hear me.
“W-what’s that?” I asked timidly.
“It’s a letter, genius,” the soldier sneered.
“Well what’s it for?” I asked.
“It’s for your delegate. You know where I can find him?”
“N-no,” I answered.
In a split second I found myself with a dagger pressed against my throat; I swallowed hard, as tears began streaming down my face. The man looked at me disdainfully; obviously disgusted at my cowardice.
“Now, where can I find your delegate?” The soldier demanded.
“W-we don’t have one…sir,” I added quickly, hoping that he’d take his blade from my throat.
“You don’t have a delegate?”
“No sir.”
“Well then, where’s your governor?”
“We don’t have one of those either.”
“Doctor? Auditor?”
“No sir.”
“Is anyone in charge of this cesspool?”
“No- well, there’s Myrond.”
“Who’s he?” the soldier asked, as he removed his dagger.
“He’s mostly the butcher, but he’s partly the judge,” I replied with a sniffle.
“How can you be partly a judge? You know what? Never mind, I don’t care; just take me to him.”
“I-I can’t; I’m not allowed to-“
The dagger was pressed against my throat once more, “You can, and you will; come on.”
The soldier shoved me around the edge of the house, as he caught my collar, and began dragging me towards the town square.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
By the time we arrived in the town square, I was exhausted and covered in mud; the soldier obviously wasn’t used to adjusting his pace to accommodate a child, and had pushed me far faster than I was accustomed to. The town was crowded and noisy, as it always was, but people disappeared into their houses and shops when they saw the soldier dragging me through the streets.
The soldier glanced around irritably, and then punched the door of a house to our left.
“Open up!” he shouted.
The door was quickly cracked open a few inches, and a boy about my age peered out at the soldier fearfully. The soldier quickly grabbed the boy’s collar, similar to the way he was holding me, and dragged the boy out into the street.
“Congratulations! You’ve just been selected to be my door-knocker,” the soldier said obnoxiously.
“W-w-w-huh?” the boy stammered.
“You seem to be new to this,” the soldier sneered, and then added cruelly, “I mean, of course you must be. People usually don’t live through their first assignments.”
The boy and I looked at each other in terror, and then screamed. I didn’t want to go through this twice, but I wanted to live! The soldier shook us both roughly.
“Shut up brats! Now!” He hissed.
I began crying once more and the boy joined me; but we stopped screaming.
Maybe they others didn’t make it through, because they kept screaming…
“…Anyway, you’re to go around and gather everyone in the town, and bring them to Myrond’s house. You got it?”
“Y-y-yes sir!” the boy stammered.
The soldier pushed the boy backwards, making him trip over a crate of chickens, and fall flat on his back. The boy scrambled upright and sprinted down the street, beating on doors and ordering everyone to go to Myrond’s house.
As I directed the soldier towards Myrond’s house, I saw that people were slowly emerging from their houses and trickling down the street behind us. The soldier looked at the swarm of people in the streets, and then down at me suspiciously.
“This is Myrond’s house?”
“Yes sir.”
“Myrond is the judge around here?”
“Yes sir.”
The soldier beat on the door loudly; Myrond’s daughter, Tylia, a girl a few months younger than me, answered the door quickly. She looked as terrified as I felt when she saw the soldier standing on the doorstep.
“M-may I help you?” Tylia asked timidly.
“Is this Myrond’s house?” the soldier demanded.
“Yes,” she squeaked in terror.
“Get him,” the soldier ordered.
Tylia disappeared within the house; she shut the door behind her, leaving the soldier and me on the doorstep. The soldier looked down at me contemptuously, and then pushed me off the doorstep; I fell in the grass.
“Get out of here brat,” he ordered gruffly.
I scrambled to my feet and sprinted into the crowd, not taking any chance of missing that opportunity; I lingered near the back of the crowd while I caught my breath, so I could see what the letter was about.
Several people patted my back and asked if I was alright, while we waited for Myrond to come to the door; when he finally appeared, his large girth was hidden by a stained butcher’s apron and he held a large meat cleaver in his hands. His face was flushed as bright as the blood on his cleaver.
“Who are you and what did you say to my little girl?” Myrond demanded angrily.
“You’re Myrond?” the soldier demanded, brushing his question aside.
“I am.”
“King Makata, ruler of Lytias-“
“Yes, yes, cut through the bull crap and tell me what this is about,” Myrond interrupted.
“Hold your tongue peasant,” the soldier hissed, as he threatened to backhand Myrond, “Or you’ll wish you had.”
“Try it,” Myrond sneered, as he lifted the meat cleaver in his hands and stepped towards the soldier.
The soldier’s chest deflated a little bit, and for a moment he seemed almost scared; but he recovered quickly, and shoved the letter into Myrond’s face.
“The king has sent you a royal decree that you’re to share with your pathetic little town,” the soldier stated.
Myrond buried the cleaver’s blade into his doorway, and wiped his hands off on his apron; then snatched the letter from the soldier and opened it. His eyes scanned page, and then he looked back at the soldier.
“What is it?”
“Read it,” the soldier ordered
“Is anyone in charge of this cesspool?”
“No- well, there’s Myrond.”
“Who’s he?” the soldier asked, as he removed his dagger.
“He’s mostly the butcher, but he’s partly the judge,” I replied with a sniffle.
“How can you be partly a judge? You know what? Never mind, I don’t care; just take me to him.”
“I-I can’t; I’m not allowed to-“
The dagger was pressed against my throat once more, “You can, and you will; come on.”
The soldier shoved me around the edge of the house, as he caught my collar, and began dragging me towards the town square.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
By the time we arrived in the town square, I was exhausted and covered in mud; the soldier obviously wasn’t used to adjusting his pace to accommodate a child, and had pushed me far faster than I was accustomed to. The town was crowded and noisy, as it always was, but people disappeared into their houses and shops when they saw the soldier dragging me through the streets.
The soldier glanced around irritably, and then punched the door of a house to our left.
“Open up!” he shouted.
The door was quickly cracked open a few inches, and a boy about my age peered out at the soldier fearfully. The soldier quickly grabbed the boy’s collar, similar to the way he was holding me, and dragged the boy out into the street.
“Congratulations! You’ve just been selected to be my door-knocker,” the soldier said obnoxiously.
“W-w-w-huh?” the boy stammered.
“You seem to be new to this,” the soldier sneered, and then added cruelly, “I mean, of course you must be. People usually don’t live through their first assignments.”
The boy and I looked at each other in terror, and then screamed. I didn’t want to go through this twice, but I wanted to live! The soldier shook us both roughly.
“Shut up brats! Now!” He hissed.
I began crying once more and the boy joined me; but we stopped screaming.
Maybe they others didn’t make it through, because they kept screaming…
“…Anyway, you’re to go around and gather everyone in the town, and bring them to Myrond’s house. You got it?”
“Y-y-yes sir!” the boy stammered.
The soldier pushed the boy backwards, making him trip over a crate of chickens, and fall flat on his back. The boy scrambled upright and sprinted down the street, beating on doors and ordering everyone to go to Myrond’s house.
As I directed the soldier towards Myrond’s house, I saw that people were slowly emerging from their houses and trickling down the street behind us. The soldier looked at the swarm of people in the streets, and then down at me suspiciously.
“This is Myrond’s house?”
“Yes sir.”
“Myrond is the judge around here?”
“Yes sir.”
The soldier beat on the door loudly; Myrond’s daughter, Tylia, a girl a few months younger than me, answered the door quickly. She looked as terrified as I felt when she saw the soldier standing on the doorstep.
“M-may I help you?” Tylia asked timidly.
“Is this Myrond’s house?” the soldier demanded.
“Yes,” she squeaked in terror.
“Get him,” the soldier ordered.
Tylia disappeared within the house; she shut the door behind her, leaving the soldier and me on the doorstep. The soldier looked down at me contemptuously, and then pushed me off the doorstep; I fell in the grass.
“Get out of here brat,” he ordered gruffly.
I scrambled to my feet and sprinted into the crowd, not taking any chance of missing that opportunity; I lingered near the back of the crowd while I caught my breath, so I could see what the letter was about.
Several people patted my back and asked if I was alright, while we waited for Myrond to come to the door; when he finally appeared, his large girth was hidden by a stained butcher’s apron and he held a large meat cleaver in his hands. His face was flushed as bright as the blood on his cleaver.
“Who are you and what did you say to my little girl?” Myrond demanded angrily.
“You’re Myrond?” the soldier demanded, brushing his question aside.
“I am.”
“King Makata, ruler of Lytias-“
“Yes, yes, cut through the bull crap and tell me what this is about,” Myrond interrupted.
“Hold your tongue peasant,” the soldier hissed, as he threatened to backhand Myrond, “Or you’ll wish you had.”
“Try it,” Myrond sneered, as he lifted the meat cleaver in his hands and stepped towards the soldier.
The soldier’s chest deflated a little bit, and for a moment he seemed almost scared; but he recovered quickly, and shoved the letter into Myrond’s face.
“The king has sent you a royal decree that you’re to share with your pathetic little town,” the soldier stated.
Myrond buried the cleaver’s blade into his doorway, and wiped his hands off on his apron; then snatched the letter from the soldier and opened it. His eyes scanned page, and then he looked back at the soldier.
“What is it?”
“Read it,” the soldier ordered
“You read it,” Myrond countered, as he shoved the
letter back into the soldier’s face.
“That’s not my job-“
“Which means that you can’t read,” Myrond growled.
“Well you can’t either,” the soldier snarled, as he snatched the letter from Myrond.
“Nope,” Myrond admitted angrily, “And if you want these people to know what the king decrees, then you’d better be telling them.”
The soldier whirled around and waved the letter in another man’s face.
“You, read it.”
“I can’t,” the man replied.
“You, then,” the soldier said, as he waved it in the face of another man.
“I can’t read,” the man answered.
The soldier ordered half a dozen other men to read it, and was met by the same answer each time; he quickly grew frustrated.
“Can anyone in this godforsaken cesspool read?” the soldier bellowed.
People started murmuring the negative, when someone suddenly said, “Wait! Tasi can!”
My eyes grew wide with the thought of being near the soldier again; and I scrambled backwards, trying to get out of the crowd before anyone spotted me. I was a fast runner and maybe, just maybe, if I could get a short head start, I might be able to get away.
“Yeah! Tasi! Tasi can! Where’d she go? Tasia? Anastasia?” People started shouting excitedly.
As people in front of me saw me, they began clearing a path for me; while the people behind me began forming a wall, so I couldn’t get away. I frantically tried to squirm between two men, but they wouldn’t let me by; and I found myself the center of attention once more.
“Come here brat,” the soldier ordered menacingly.
People patted my back reassuringly, as I fearfully walked up the path that was cleared for me; much too soon I found myself standing in front of the soldier. He looked at me skeptically.
“Which means that you can’t read,” Myrond growled.
“Well you can’t either,” the soldier snarled, as he snatched the letter from Myrond.
“Nope,” Myrond admitted angrily, “And if you want these people to know what the king decrees, then you’d better be telling them.”
The soldier whirled around and waved the letter in another man’s face.
“You, read it.”
“I can’t,” the man replied.
“You, then,” the soldier said, as he waved it in the face of another man.
“I can’t read,” the man answered.
The soldier ordered half a dozen other men to read it, and was met by the same answer each time; he quickly grew frustrated.
“Can anyone in this godforsaken cesspool read?” the soldier bellowed.
People started murmuring the negative, when someone suddenly said, “Wait! Tasi can!”
My eyes grew wide with the thought of being near the soldier again; and I scrambled backwards, trying to get out of the crowd before anyone spotted me. I was a fast runner and maybe, just maybe, if I could get a short head start, I might be able to get away.
“Yeah! Tasi! Tasi can! Where’d she go? Tasia? Anastasia?” People started shouting excitedly.
As people in front of me saw me, they began clearing a path for me; while the people behind me began forming a wall, so I couldn’t get away. I frantically tried to squirm between two men, but they wouldn’t let me by; and I found myself the center of attention once more.
“Come here brat,” the soldier ordered menacingly.
People patted my back reassuringly, as I fearfully walked up the path that was cleared for me; much too soon I found myself standing in front of the soldier. He looked at me skeptically.
“You can read?”
“I’m afraid so,” I replied.
For the first time in my life I wished I was the daughter of a man who couldn't read.
The soldier chortled, “A little girl is the only thing in this…this…place that can read.”
I watched him laugh scornfully, as he looked at each man in the town, before he abruptly stopped and shoved the letter into my face, “Read.”
I bit back a sigh and took the letter from him. I quickly read over the letter, trying to get a feel for it; so I wouldn’t stumble over any words when I had to read it out loud. The people quickly grew impatient with me, and began ordering me to read.
“Come on Tasi, read it,” Tylia begged, as she hid behind Myrond’s leg.
I cleared my throat, “It says, ‘King Makata, ruler of Lytias, hereby d-decrees that-“
“We can’t hear you!” A man in the crowd shouted.
“It says, “King-“I started to shout, but was interrupted once more.
“Get up higher, so your voice will carry better,” A second man suggested.
I stood on my tiptoes and shouted, “King Makata, ruler of-“
“Higher than that!” The first man complained.
I looked around bewilderedly; I couldn’t climb with a letter in my hands, and I couldn’t make myself any taller, so I didn’t know what I was supposed to do.
Myrond chuckled and lifted me onto a tall stack of crates, “There you are, my dear.”
“Thank you Mr. Myrond…Is this any better?”
“Yes, yes, just read it,” the soldier snarled.
“Yes sir. It says, ‘King Makata, ruler of Lytias, hereby decrees that all male-children aged sixteen years or y-you-young- younger! Thirteen years and younger are to report to his ma-majesty’s palace im-imm-immed- I don’t know what that word says…”
“How does it start?” Myrond asked.
“Im-Immed-Imm…” I struggled, fully aware that spelling it to Myrond, as I would’ve my father, would be pointless.
“Immediately?” he suggested.
“I-I don’t know…maybe…immediately. They’re to report im-immediately.”
“What does it say after that?” someone in the crowd asked.
“It says, ‘straight line, a dash I guess, King Makata, and then there’s a squiggly line under that; I suppose it’s his signature.”
“What else?”
“The only other thing is a little picture of a snake choking a candle.”
“That’s a python coiled around a torch,” the soldier snapped.
“Yes sir. A python coiled around a torch,” I quickly corrected, though I still thought it looked like a snake trying to choke a candle.
“Is that it?” Myrond’s wife Yamani asked.
“Yes’m,” I replied respectfully.
“There isn’t any more writing?” the man who complained about not being able to hear me asked.
“No.”
“Well what does Makata want our boys for?” Myrond asked.
“That’s none of your concern,” the soldier sneered, “Just obey, before King Makata gets angry at you and immolates your pathetic little town to nothing more than scrap!”
“Immolates,” I repeated quietly.
I didn’t think that the soldier knew what the word meant, he had more likely been told to tell villagers it, in an attempt to make himself and Makata look smart. I wasn’t really sure what it meant, but I liked the sound of it; it was fun to say.
The soldier grabbed my ankle and jerked me from stack of crates; Myrond jumped forward to catch me, but quickly found the blade of a dagger pressed against his throat. The soldier kicked me three times, before I rolled over on my side and spit out a mouthful of blood.
“Sass me, will ya?” The soldier bellowed, as he kicked me again.
I didn’t know what he meant, but he seemed offended, “I-I’m sorry!”
“Yes you are,” he sneered.
“She didn’t mean anything by it,” Myrond defended.
The soldier kicked me over onto my back, and slammed his foot down on my chest. I coughed and choked on the blood in my mouth; as I struggled to get a breath of air. The soldier glared daggers at Myrond.
“What would you know?”
“I know her,” Myrond growled, “Which you don’t.”
“What’s to know? She bleeds like the rest of us?” the soldier sneered.
Myrond started towards him, seeming angry enough to murder the soldier if he got the opportunity; Myrond was as protective of me as my own father was. Myrond had never tolerated anyone speaking to me meanly; even when Father had still been healthy enough to defend me himself.
“I know what she sounds like when she’s making fun, and that wasn’t it.”
There was a strained silence; Myrond and the soldier exchanged looks venomous enough to kill. I took the opportunity to remove the soldier’s foot from my chest, before I crawled behind the crates; I sat there and spit out a few more mouthfuls of blood, before my imagination ran off with me as its captive.
How much blood does a girl my age get? Will I get more if I lose too much? How much is too much? I've probably already lost most of the blood in my body; I'm not very big after all. Am I going to die? That soldier said that people don't usually live through their first assignments. Oh no! I've got to stop coughing!
I slowly forced myself to my feet, and staggered towards the back of Myrond’s house; using the wall to support my weight. As I rounded the corner, I heard people begin demanding that I read the letter again; and then asking where I had gone.
My head felt like it was up in the tree tops, flittering around the birds; but I heard Myrond come to my defense. He quickly stated that the letter wasn’t very long, nor was it complicated, and that everyone needed to learn to be less dependent on a little girl; which, of course, caused him to receive a multitude of angry responses.
I smiled to myself; thankful that Myrond liked me enough to take a beating for me. I knew the beating wasn’t physical, but it still wouldn’t be pleasant to receive; and if everyone was attacking Myrond, then they couldn’t be searching for me.
I crawled under a thicket of brush; ignoring that that the twigs and briars scratched my face and pulled my hair. I crawled until I was in a small clearing on the riverbank, a place Tylia, her brother Liandior, and I had discovered one day when we were playing, and transformed into a make-shift fort.
There were a few broken dishes in a pile to my right, and a haggard, almost useless piece of burlap to my left with the doll I had made Tylia out of sticks lying under it. I paused briefly as I came into the clearing, and then continued until I was in the middle of the creek, with cold water swirling around me.
I sat there gasping and coughing until I could breathe easily once more, and then I splashed my face with the icy water, turning the water brown as it swirled around the rocks before the current swept it downstream. I scrubbed the dirt from my arms, feet, and pant legs; and then dragged myself up onto the bank and collapsed.
I was covered in gooseflesh and my entire body shook; though from fear or cold, it was difficult to tell. I lay on my back for a long while panting, before I heard the brush rustling. My body went rigid as I listened, and then I bailed into the creek, scrambling to fall into the small hole that we had dug, which was actually deep enough to hide in; I crouched in the hole, behind a rock, and waited.
“It’s alright Tasia, it’s only me,” Liandior called gently.
I realized I had been holding my breath so I slowly let it out, as I crawled back to the bank. Tears began streaming down my cheeks, as I saw Liandior, relieved to see someone who didn’t seem to want something from me. He helped me onto the bank and held me as I fell into his lap and sobbed.
“There, there, it’s alright Tasi,” he cooed, “You’re safe now.”
“Oh Liandior! I'm so scared!" I wailed, "I'm going to die!"
“I know dear,” he whispered, as he rubbed my back, "Wait, what? You're not going to die. Who told you that?"
"I'm bleeding to death!" I gasped, "I've coughed up a lot of blood, and I know I don't have much left."
Liandior chuckled, "You're not bleeding to death, calm down."
"I am!" I insisted.
"Gosh Tasi, he only kicked you twice."
"It was four times," I grumbled.
"You're not in anymore danger than the rest of us," Liandior assured me.
"...I was still scared."
"I know dear, we all were."
“You weren’t scared, you’re a boy,” I sniffled.
“That’s why I’m scared. We boys are the ones that Makata wants,” Liandior replied.
“Oh Liandior! You are only sixteen! What are you going to do?” I asked, as I scrambled up to look at his face in horror.
“Well, right now I’m going to escort you home,” he replied, as he lifted me to my feet.
“But-but what- how will you-will you be okay?”
“I’ll be fine.”
“But what will you do?”
“I’m going to take it one day at a time. That’s what we all have to do,” he replied, as he helped me across the river.
Liandior found himself trying to calm me down the whole time it took us to walk home, even though he was the one in danger. By the time Liandior left me on my doorstep there wasn’t a trace of tears, or the beating, on my face; and I was able to go into the house confidently.
“Anastasia!” My father bellowed, “Where have you been?"
“I’m afraid so,” I replied.
For the first time in my life I wished I was the daughter of a man who couldn't read.
The soldier chortled, “A little girl is the only thing in this…this…place that can read.”
I watched him laugh scornfully, as he looked at each man in the town, before he abruptly stopped and shoved the letter into my face, “Read.”
I bit back a sigh and took the letter from him. I quickly read over the letter, trying to get a feel for it; so I wouldn’t stumble over any words when I had to read it out loud. The people quickly grew impatient with me, and began ordering me to read.
“Come on Tasi, read it,” Tylia begged, as she hid behind Myrond’s leg.
I cleared my throat, “It says, ‘King Makata, ruler of Lytias, hereby d-decrees that-“
“We can’t hear you!” A man in the crowd shouted.
“It says, “King-“I started to shout, but was interrupted once more.
“Get up higher, so your voice will carry better,” A second man suggested.
I stood on my tiptoes and shouted, “King Makata, ruler of-“
“Higher than that!” The first man complained.
I looked around bewilderedly; I couldn’t climb with a letter in my hands, and I couldn’t make myself any taller, so I didn’t know what I was supposed to do.
Myrond chuckled and lifted me onto a tall stack of crates, “There you are, my dear.”
“Thank you Mr. Myrond…Is this any better?”
“Yes, yes, just read it,” the soldier snarled.
“Yes sir. It says, ‘King Makata, ruler of Lytias, hereby decrees that all male-children aged sixteen years or y-you-young- younger! Thirteen years and younger are to report to his ma-majesty’s palace im-imm-immed- I don’t know what that word says…”
“How does it start?” Myrond asked.
“Im-Immed-Imm…” I struggled, fully aware that spelling it to Myrond, as I would’ve my father, would be pointless.
“Immediately?” he suggested.
“I-I don’t know…maybe…immediately. They’re to report im-immediately.”
“What does it say after that?” someone in the crowd asked.
“It says, ‘straight line, a dash I guess, King Makata, and then there’s a squiggly line under that; I suppose it’s his signature.”
“What else?”
“The only other thing is a little picture of a snake choking a candle.”
“That’s a python coiled around a torch,” the soldier snapped.
“Yes sir. A python coiled around a torch,” I quickly corrected, though I still thought it looked like a snake trying to choke a candle.
“Is that it?” Myrond’s wife Yamani asked.
“Yes’m,” I replied respectfully.
“There isn’t any more writing?” the man who complained about not being able to hear me asked.
“No.”
“Well what does Makata want our boys for?” Myrond asked.
“That’s none of your concern,” the soldier sneered, “Just obey, before King Makata gets angry at you and immolates your pathetic little town to nothing more than scrap!”
“Immolates,” I repeated quietly.
I didn’t think that the soldier knew what the word meant, he had more likely been told to tell villagers it, in an attempt to make himself and Makata look smart. I wasn’t really sure what it meant, but I liked the sound of it; it was fun to say.
The soldier grabbed my ankle and jerked me from stack of crates; Myrond jumped forward to catch me, but quickly found the blade of a dagger pressed against his throat. The soldier kicked me three times, before I rolled over on my side and spit out a mouthful of blood.
“Sass me, will ya?” The soldier bellowed, as he kicked me again.
I didn’t know what he meant, but he seemed offended, “I-I’m sorry!”
“Yes you are,” he sneered.
“She didn’t mean anything by it,” Myrond defended.
The soldier kicked me over onto my back, and slammed his foot down on my chest. I coughed and choked on the blood in my mouth; as I struggled to get a breath of air. The soldier glared daggers at Myrond.
“What would you know?”
“I know her,” Myrond growled, “Which you don’t.”
“What’s to know? She bleeds like the rest of us?” the soldier sneered.
Myrond started towards him, seeming angry enough to murder the soldier if he got the opportunity; Myrond was as protective of me as my own father was. Myrond had never tolerated anyone speaking to me meanly; even when Father had still been healthy enough to defend me himself.
“I know what she sounds like when she’s making fun, and that wasn’t it.”
There was a strained silence; Myrond and the soldier exchanged looks venomous enough to kill. I took the opportunity to remove the soldier’s foot from my chest, before I crawled behind the crates; I sat there and spit out a few more mouthfuls of blood, before my imagination ran off with me as its captive.
How much blood does a girl my age get? Will I get more if I lose too much? How much is too much? I've probably already lost most of the blood in my body; I'm not very big after all. Am I going to die? That soldier said that people don't usually live through their first assignments. Oh no! I've got to stop coughing!
I slowly forced myself to my feet, and staggered towards the back of Myrond’s house; using the wall to support my weight. As I rounded the corner, I heard people begin demanding that I read the letter again; and then asking where I had gone.
My head felt like it was up in the tree tops, flittering around the birds; but I heard Myrond come to my defense. He quickly stated that the letter wasn’t very long, nor was it complicated, and that everyone needed to learn to be less dependent on a little girl; which, of course, caused him to receive a multitude of angry responses.
I smiled to myself; thankful that Myrond liked me enough to take a beating for me. I knew the beating wasn’t physical, but it still wouldn’t be pleasant to receive; and if everyone was attacking Myrond, then they couldn’t be searching for me.
I crawled under a thicket of brush; ignoring that that the twigs and briars scratched my face and pulled my hair. I crawled until I was in a small clearing on the riverbank, a place Tylia, her brother Liandior, and I had discovered one day when we were playing, and transformed into a make-shift fort.
There were a few broken dishes in a pile to my right, and a haggard, almost useless piece of burlap to my left with the doll I had made Tylia out of sticks lying under it. I paused briefly as I came into the clearing, and then continued until I was in the middle of the creek, with cold water swirling around me.
I sat there gasping and coughing until I could breathe easily once more, and then I splashed my face with the icy water, turning the water brown as it swirled around the rocks before the current swept it downstream. I scrubbed the dirt from my arms, feet, and pant legs; and then dragged myself up onto the bank and collapsed.
I was covered in gooseflesh and my entire body shook; though from fear or cold, it was difficult to tell. I lay on my back for a long while panting, before I heard the brush rustling. My body went rigid as I listened, and then I bailed into the creek, scrambling to fall into the small hole that we had dug, which was actually deep enough to hide in; I crouched in the hole, behind a rock, and waited.
“It’s alright Tasia, it’s only me,” Liandior called gently.
I realized I had been holding my breath so I slowly let it out, as I crawled back to the bank. Tears began streaming down my cheeks, as I saw Liandior, relieved to see someone who didn’t seem to want something from me. He helped me onto the bank and held me as I fell into his lap and sobbed.
“There, there, it’s alright Tasi,” he cooed, “You’re safe now.”
“Oh Liandior! I'm so scared!" I wailed, "I'm going to die!"
“I know dear,” he whispered, as he rubbed my back, "Wait, what? You're not going to die. Who told you that?"
"I'm bleeding to death!" I gasped, "I've coughed up a lot of blood, and I know I don't have much left."
Liandior chuckled, "You're not bleeding to death, calm down."
"I am!" I insisted.
"Gosh Tasi, he only kicked you twice."
"It was four times," I grumbled.
"You're not in anymore danger than the rest of us," Liandior assured me.
"...I was still scared."
"I know dear, we all were."
“You weren’t scared, you’re a boy,” I sniffled.
“That’s why I’m scared. We boys are the ones that Makata wants,” Liandior replied.
“Oh Liandior! You are only sixteen! What are you going to do?” I asked, as I scrambled up to look at his face in horror.
“Well, right now I’m going to escort you home,” he replied, as he lifted me to my feet.
“But-but what- how will you-will you be okay?”
“I’ll be fine.”
“But what will you do?”
“I’m going to take it one day at a time. That’s what we all have to do,” he replied, as he helped me across the river.
Liandior found himself trying to calm me down the whole time it took us to walk home, even though he was the one in danger. By the time Liandior left me on my doorstep there wasn’t a trace of tears, or the beating, on my face; and I was able to go into the house confidently.
“Anastasia!” My father bellowed, “Where have you been?"
