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From Whence The Ice Queen Cometh

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Ceinwyn ab'Arawn
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PostPosted: Mon Nov 19, 2007 5:41 pm Post subject: From Whence The Ice Queen Cometh Reply with quote

Introduction


Shannon looked at her sister, who was huddled in the corner by the fireplace. She sat in father's good chair, with her arms locked around knees drawn up to her chest. The dancing flames reflected in her haunted eyes, puffy and red from endless worry and grief. She was as forlorn as any person could be.

This was why Shannon had been requested. To once more step in and help her baby sister out. After so many years, she had thought herself free at last from her sister's shadow. Now it seemed that she had been all wrong. She could not even enjoy her reclusive spinsterhood in peace and silence.

Shannon strode past the foyer and into the parlor, where her parents stood in discussion. Upon entering the room both turned to her with hope in their eyes. Something else was in their gaze, as well, desparation. She had seen the look before, so many times. How many times had they asked her to go without so that her sister would not have to? Do it for Fallon, they'd always said. Think of Fallon. Be good to Fallon.

But what about Shannon? Did anybody care?

Her mother was the first to speak.

"We're so glad you've arrived at last! This whole situation has us at our wit's end. My dear, you know how your father's heart is, and this has been taxing on us all."

Shannon looked at her father, his face was red, but whether it was due to worry or embarassment, she could not tell. This man had dominated all of their lives with his rigid sense of formality and propriety. But he had always had an unexplainable tender spot for his younger daughter. How he had not been so captivated with his older daughter was beyond anybody's guess. Yet it was obvious to all who knew the family.

"Your sister's purity has been compromised," he said.

That's it, father, put it formally, regally. Just like you always do.

"What do you mean?" Shannon asked. She had been summoned here, but they had not deigned to inform her as to the reason that they had requested her presence. She stood, rigidly, as he had taught her to, and waited for the forthcoming answer to her question.

"You are aware that while you were travelling our city was raided by orcs and other disgusting beasts?" he asked. At Shannon's nod of understanding, he continued. "Your sister happened to be hanging the wash to dry in the yard when they came out of the jungle. She was set upon by a drow. We thought that it wouldn't be a problem, that those beasts could not get children upon human women. We had hoped that we could pass her lack of virginity off as a childhood accident. But, Fallon began to have a stomach sickness, so we sent for a healer. He told us not more than a week ago that she is in the motherly way."

"Fallon is pregnant?" Shannon was speechless. Of course, her sister would succeed where Shannon had failed so many times and for so long. To think, Fallon hadn't even tried to become pregnant. It had just happened, by chance. Shannon grit her teeth together to ward off the angry jealousy. It would do her no good to be envious, the present could not serve the past. She fixed her hard gaze upon her father.

"What will you do now? I had thought you arranged a marriage for her to some stuffed shirt. No doubt, that will have to be cancelled," she said.

But her father's response shook the foundation of her being.

"You will take the child," he simply said.

(to be continued...)
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PostPosted: Thu Aug 28, 2008 7:46 pm Post subject: Reply with quote

Chapter One
Shannon's First Impression


The weather was as sunny as ever in the Trinsic marketplace. Salty ocean air wafted down the sandstone streets and people fanned themselves to keep cool. Bright awnings and garish clothing of the merchant stalls gave color to the golden hues of the city. Shoppers bustled back and forth along the main avenue of Shopper's Row in their usual hurried gait.

One mustn't miss out on a bargain, must one?

Shannon was presently locked in an argument with a peacocked merchant over the origin of a vase he was trying to sell her. More like hustle her. She knew very damned well that the thing was a cheap copy of a vase from the Vesper museum, and this stupid fat man was trying to convince her it was the genuine article. To the average purchaser, it might seem true. But, she was well read and traveled and knew better. Also, the vase was missing a certain stamp of authenticity that the true vase had stamped on its base by its creator.

She was about to call the guards on this con artist when she finally realized that someone had been shouting out her name for the last few minutes.

"Shannon ab'Arawn! Shannon ab'Arawn! You are urgently needed!" came the frantic yelling from an exhausted young lad trying to force his way against the wrong direction of the trafficing shoppers. His head occasionally dipped beneath the swell of the crowds, belying his lack of height.

With a burdened sigh, Shannon turned away from the scammer's stall to go and see what the young man wanted, and to also stop his calling her name. She wasn't exactly eager to have herself even more known amongst the populace. It was bad enough she was already known as a spinster.

"I am Shannon ab'Arawn!" she called to the man, in an effort to quiet him and get his attention all in one go. It must have worked, for he started to make his way to her, appearing to be swimming through the crowd, and not very effectively at that.

"Ahh! Good!" he huffed, when he finally caught up to her, obviously out of breath. "I was told to find you and bring you home. Lord ab'Arawn says it is time. I don't know for certain what that means, but it isn't my place to question Milord. He said you would understand, Milady."

He looked at her, hoping for enlightenment, but all he received was disappointment. His words had had the calculated effect on Shannon that Andras ab'Arawn had intended them to. Nothing short of immediate danger would have affected her more. She stood there, still in the busy air of the marketplace, frozen.

It is time.

How she had hated and feared this day. How she hated and feared her father. Always, he had controlled her life. She supposed he always would. Even from across the city his long grip reached her, and she could imagine for a short moment that she was being slowly choked to death. She almost wished for it.

Shaking her head to clear it and free herself from the imaginary assault, she forced her feet into motion. She fell into step beside the messenger, listening to his idle chatter as they started the walk to the public stables to collect their mounts.

On the way to the ab'Arawn estate, Shannon felt as if she was riding to her doom. In a way, she was. It had always felt this way when she came for visits. Probably because her visits were usually summoned and always ended with some new burden her father had placed upon her. She already knew this time would be no different.

Because of Fallon. Again, because of Fallon.

The baby sister that would always be the apple of her father's eye, whilst she, Shannon would always play the role of the unwanted worm. Shannon knew she was jealous of Fallon. She freely and readily admitted that angering fact. But, not aloud. Never to anyone but herself. She hated it. Hated this treacherous weakness inside herself. She understood where it derived from, their parent's favoritism of their youngest daughter. She simply never understood why. She suspected she never would.

. - - ~ }{@}{ ~ - - .


Fallon screamed as another contraction tore through her. Shannon almost pitied her. But, there was jealousy, too, in knowing that she would never feel such pain herself. The pain of childbirth had been denied to her by some cruel god or fate. So her blue eyes held a fair share of that ripe shade of envious green as she watched her sister suffer the birth of the first ab'Arawn grandchild.

Maidservants rushed about carrying out the barked commands of the midwife. Shannon weaved between the servants, making her way to a quiet corner of the room where there wasn't much activity. She allowed herself the luxury of leaning against the expensive wallpaper at her back, figuring that for once, her parents would be too preoccupied with their younger daughter to chastise her for her lack of composition.

Her assumption proved to be correct, however, as the midwife decided that it was time for the infant to come forth. Still, Shannon found herself straightening, interested despite herself.

So, this is what I'll never experience

It didn't look like she was missing out on all that much, actually. Though perhaps just a bit of that was sour grapes.

She was torn from her jealous musings by the sound of her sister screaming as the baby's head emerged. Shannon stared at the tuft of stark white hair that stood as the first testament to the true nature of the child's parentage. It was so pure, that anyone could tell the true color of the hair between the patches of blood that matted it down.

A gasped cry from her mother across the room drew Shannon's attention. As if they hadn't expected it. The truth of the situation suddenly hit Shannon hard. She would be saddled with this aberration for the next couple decades, thanks to her father. What other deformities would the child possess? She almost didn't want to know. She decided then and there that she would never take the child out in public with her. She would not suffer for her sister's bastard.

Another drawn out scream announced the complete arrival of the child into the world. The midwife gathered the child into a towel and wiped away the blood with a wet cloth. Looking up, she announced to them the birth of a healthy baby girl.

Fallon had fallen back against the pillows, panting for air. She appeared exhausted, but at the midwife's words, she sat upright, eyes suddenly bright. She thrust her arms out toward the baby.

"Give her to me! I want to look at her!" she demanded.

As the midwife stepped forward to deliver the child into her waiting arms, Shannon felt something snap inside herself. She stepped forward, cutting off the midwife's path and placing herself in the way.

"No." Shannon said, "She is mine, now."

Shannon reached out her arms for the infant, but the midwife hesitated to hand the baby over to her. She pierced the old woman with a cold, harsh gaze.

"Give her over to me. She is my daughter."

She allowed her gaze to go to her father, a gaze which the midwife's eyes also caught and followed. Andras ab'Arawn was watching the scene with his emotionless eyes. Shannon's stare was challenging, for once in her life. Perhaps that was why she was given this small victory. Although, truth be told, could it really be called a victory? After all, it came only after he had given his permission.

"She is right, the child is hers. Give the baby to her."

The midwife nodded slowly and looked back at Shannon. She extended the baby to her. Shannon took the small bundle into her arms, feeling triumphant not at having a child of her very own, but because she finally had something that her sister did not. The look she turned on Fallon was smirking and cruel. Her sister watched her with watery, pleading eyes.

"You will never hold her or look upon her."

As tears began to trickle down Fallon's face, Shannon quickly coated the barb of her words with a consolatory statement.

"Trust me, it is better this way, lest you become too attached to the child."

Shannon hoped her father would not have a change of mind at the sight of his little girl crying. Luckily for her, he did not. Fallon nodded slowly, obviously warring against her own emotions.

Small cries rang throughout the room as the baby began to cry. Everyone turned their attention to the mewling babe, whose arms were waving a bit wildly. They stood there, all of them, examining the child of mixed blood.

"At least she has the correct skin color," Shannon heard the midwife saying, "It is a pity about the hair, though. Look! What's this?.."

Shannon gazed down at the infant as the child opened her eyes for the first time. Violet eyes that seemed to stare at Shannon accusingly. She gazed around to see if anyone else noticed, then chided herself. Of course the child was too young for any such thing. Besides, what had she to answer for? This was her father's idea, she wasn't stealing the baby. She looked down at the baby, this time more relaxed. The child was turning her head about mouthing at her clothing.

"She is hungry, is all," spoke the wet nurse, who stepped forward to take the child and perform her duty. Shannon readily handed her over, wanting no part of such doings. It was then that Shannon noticed the child's ears held a bit of a point to them, which reinforced her decision to never be seen in public with the girl.

Turning away from the awkwardness of watching the child nurse, Shannon gazed at her sister. Fallon was leaning back against the pillows, watching her.

"I want to name her Ceridwyn," she said.

"No. Her name is Ceinwyn. Even you cannot argue that name, it means blessed and fair."

Actually, some translations stated it meant white and fair. White would accurately describe the girl's hair, and Shannon considered what had happened this eve to be the first time their father had ever been fair. Her explanation had the intended effect, though, as Fallon meekly nodded acquiescence.

"Though why you would name such a cursed creature as that child a blessing is beyond me," Andras said, "I want that thing out of my house by tomorrow morning."

Right, that way, you can begin forgetting that this ever happened, father, can't you?

. - - ~ }{@}{ ~ - - .


They left that very evening. The child was bundled into a basket attached to a horse. A member of the staff led the horse by a rope as he rode his own steed. The wet nurse accompanied them to see to the needs of the child.

Shannon was personally glad to be away from the oppressive walls of the ab'Arawn Estate. Not that her own home was any happier, but at least her father's will did not occupy the place. With that thought, she rode a bit more relaxed in the saddle.

Thoughts turned to the girl, Ceinwyn, that rode in the basket beside her. Her sister's get. A new burden for Shannon to bear. One that she did not earn. In her mind, the child was a culmination of all the pains she had ever suffered under her father's commanding ways. The victory she had felt a few hours ago was gone from her mind now. This would be the biggest humiliation she had ever suffered for Fallon. She realized with a start that she was actually happy that she'd never become a mother.

And with that realization, she decided that she never would be.

(to be continued...)
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PostPosted: Tue Sep 02, 2008 5:55 pm Post subject: Reply with quote

Chapter Two
Raising Cein


Loud wailing from the floor below wrenched Shannon from dream laden sleep. She rolled over onto her side, the blankets tangling about her in the process. The baby was crying. Again. She waited there, listening for the wet nurse to quiet the screaming child. How long would this go on?

It had been a few months since they'd left the ab'Arawn Estate. She hadn't had a full night's sleep since. Every few hours, the baby would awaken, demanding milk or changing or whatever else it was that babies demand. Of course, Shannon didn't attend to the child, the nursemaid did. That is what she was paid to do.

If anyone had suggested to Shannon that she bond with the child a bit more, they would have been met with harsh laughter. That is, if Shannon had been the type to laugh. But, she wasn't. Growing up in the shadow of Andras ab'Arawn quelled all natural instinct to laugh. It simply wasn't permitted, as it disturbed his studies and was a frivolous waste of one's energy. Except when it came to Fallon.

Shannon barely spent any time with the child. She kept her time filled with matters of great consequence, such as knitting, and she was quite good at it. Though to be honest, she never knitted anything for the child she had taken in. Her father had placed this burden on her, and so she quite enjoyed demanding money for the care of the babe, albeit with a bit of reminding him that she was doing it to spare Fallon the embarrassment.

There was silence from below, now. The nurse must have finally attended the babe. Shannon was grateful that she didn't have to perform this disgusting chore. The last thing she wanted was some half drow child suckling at her.

@}~,~~'~~ }~{ ~~'~~,~{@


Shannon was so busy pitying herself and silently lamenting the responsibility that had been forced upon her that she had not even noticed any of the baby's firsts. She had been busy in the garden when Ceinwyn first sat upright. She had been busy napping in the salon when the child had first crawled. When the girl had first pulled herself to a stand, at the edge of the side table in the front hall, Shannon had been busy tasting soup in the kitchen. Not that she cared, mind you. If she had only been paying attention she would have noticed for herself that the child was advanced for her age, both mentally and physically. The nursemaid's reports went in one ear and out of the other with a well-practiced nod and a noncommittal reply. The babe's first two years passed by and Shannon didn't even care to notice.

(to be continued...)
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PostPosted: Sun Sep 07, 2008 7:22 pm Post subject: Reply with quote

Chapter Three
I Told You Not To Do That


Sunlight poured in through the window, warm and comforting. A small hand pierced the sunbeam. The two year old watched in fascination as dust particles eddied and whirled about her delicate fingers. Though she could not know now, later in life her first exercises with magic would recall to her this very moment. For now, though, her mind wrapped around the concept of sunlight and its warmth.

A raucous clanging drew her attention away from the light. Her toddler head turned to stare down the hallway toward the kitchen. A few pots had fallen, she realized, hearing a string of muttered profanity from Cook. Maybe there were cookies in the kitchen. Tracing a hand along the wallpaper, she toddled along the hall, away from the big window, toward the double doors.

Pushing open the huge doors, she peered inside. Cook was busy mixing something in a bowl, a strand of her hair had escaped her cap and was dangling in her face. Every few seconds, she would reach her other hand to swat it out of sight. Ceinwyn stepped fully into the kitchen, the large doors swinging shut behind her, alerting Cook of her presence.

"Well, 'ello there, lil' miss," Cook, whose real name was Bridgette, greeted her.

Ceinwyn stood there, watching the cook, too shy to speak.

"Ya want ta know what I'm makin'?" At the girl's quick nod, she continued, "I'm makin' pies."

She smiled reassuringly at Ceinwyn, who was watching her with those odd purple eyes of hers. The child took a step toward her and stopped, as if she wanted to come closer, but was afraid to.

"Would ya like ta help?" Cook asked.

A timid nod was all the cook needed. She pulled a chair close for the child to stand on. She then walked over to the little girl, intent on helping her onto the chair. Ceinwyn backed away a step, before she could reach her.

"I can do it!"

With sudden fearlessness, the spritely child scaled the wooden chair with ease. The cook chuckled softly, because the girl looked as if she was well practiced at climbing. Afterward, a triumphant child stared back at her, hands fisted and resting on her hips, with a grin on her face. Cook couldn't help but to smile at the sight.

"Righ' then, let's begin, shall we?"

And together, they made pies. Cook explained everything as they worked and she was impressed at how well the child seemed to understand.

-/-\-/-\-/-\-/-\-/-\-/-\-/-\-


The aroma of freshly baked apple pie tickled her senses, as Ceinwyn stood with her nose pressed to the front window. The long drapery rested against her back, enclosing her in privacy. This part of the house was always shrouded in darkness by tall, thick curtains that barred sunlight from entering the cottage. For a small second, she wondered why her mother kept it so dark here and so bright in the back of the house. Her attention was quickly captured, though, as a woman towing a small boy happened to walk past on the street, outside.

The woman, as grownups usually do, ignored the child peering from the window. The small boy whose hand she held in a firm grip, however, did not. His gaze met the strange purple pair of eyes and he did not look away until he and his mother had gone out of sight. The image of the small, purple eyed, white haired girl watching him would remain locked in his mind for the rest of his life.

As her subjects left the range of her vision, Ceinwyn lost interest in watching the outside world. Turning, she pushed aside the heavy curtains and emerged from her hiding place, just in time for Shannon to catch her as she entered the room.

"Dinnertime, Cein- " She froze as she realized where Ceinwyn had been. The child, too, remained standing rigidly still, watching her with watery eyes. How Shannon hated those eyes.

"What did I tell you about these windows?" She fixed a hard gaze on the petrified little girl. At Ceinwyn's fearful silence, she continued, her voice taking on a tone an octave lower and more menacing. "I told you not to look out of these windows!" She stepped forward and reached out quick as a snake, snatching hold of the girl's tiny wrist. She turned and started walking down the hall, tugging the child roughly behind her, the child whimpering and protesting apologies the entire length of the path that led them down the hallway and out of the oak doors into the back garden. They were going to the shed!

"Please! No! I sorry!" the child cried out in absolute terror. She started to struggle against her mother's grip, but remembered what had happened the last time she had done so, and allowed herself to be pulled along.

At last, the painful yanking stopped, but before Ceinwyn could rub her hurt shoulder, Mother was pushing her into the darkness of the shed.

-/-\-/-\-/-\-/-\-/-\-/-\-/-\-


The heavy door was slammed shut and barred from the outside. As always, Ceinwyn threw herself against it, beating uselessly with her toddler fists. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she cried out to her mother.

"Mama! Please! Let me out! I be good! Please! Please!"

The shed was an old wooden storage shack that had once housed the tools of the garden. Some time back, it had been emptied out and now it was Shannon's main tool of discipline. Whenever Ceinwyn had broken a rule, even accidentally, Shannon brought her to the shed and locked her in the darkness. Often the child was locked inside for hours, missing meals, and once she had even been left overnight, which had terrified her so much that she had not spoken at all for the next two days.

No longer trying futilely to get her mother's attention, Ceinwyn rested her forehead against the aged wooden door and stared at the bottom where precious light spilled in. She slid down the surface of the door in a slump, suffering splinters in the process. She knelt there, staring at the sliver of light, while her fears took form and came to life in the darkness behind her.

(to be continued...)
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PostPosted: Thu Sep 11, 2008 8:27 pm Post subject: Reply with quote

Chapter Four
Out Of Sight





She liked to watch the spider in the yard. It was of the common garden variety, though it was the largest in their garden. That was because of Ceinwyn. She was so fascinated with it that she would catch ants and flies and all sorts of insects to drop into its web. The five year old delighted in watching the spider dash out of its hiding hole to grab the unlucky participant and drag it back in.

This time, Ceinwyn had managed to trap a moth. A large dusty beast, whose film was covering the girl's fingertips. She wondered if it would be able to fly without all of that dust, but gave up wondering that when she remembered she was going to feed it to the spider. Flying wouldn't matter.

I wonder what would happen if I drop another spider into my spider's web?

Latching onto this new idea gave her the opportunity to see if the moth could fly without all of that dusty stuff. So she let it go. Released, it took flight and went on its way. She wondered what the dust did if it didn't make the moth fly. She would find out someday, she vowed. Now then, she had a spider to catch.

She knew all the places in the yard where the spiders were. In her adventures and explores, she had been forced to learn those locations, so she wouldn't accidentally walk into another web. The first time she had, she had been frightened very badly. The feeling of the soft sticky webbing had dragged across her face, giving her thousands of thoughts of the residing spider possibly being caught on her somewhere. She knew which spider she wanted to drop in the web. The nasty-looking thorny one that made its home beside the back porch. She could definitely live without that one. Just its look alone was menacing and scary to her.

She raced over to the thorny spider. It was perched in the center of its web, all white and black and pointy. It was hideous. She looked around on the ground for a stick to twirl in its web. A nice medium length one was lying just near the shed. She collected it and dashed back. Poking the end of the stick into the web, she quickly twirled it in a circle, around the sitting spider. When she was sure that she had it securely on the stick, she turned and traveled back to the garden fence.

There was her spider, perched at the edge of its hole, watching for dinner. She held the tip of the stick over the web and began to shake it, trying to dislodge the thorny spider. But, it was either stuck to its own webbing or clinging for dear life.

"Ceinwyn!" came her mother's voice from across the yard. She stopped shaking the stick and turned to look back toward the house. She didn't see the spider start to climb up the length of the stick.

"I'm coming!" she called back.

She glanced back down to her experiment just in time to see the thorny spider sink its teeth down into the flesh between her thumb and her index finger.

"Ow!" she cried, dropping the stick as if it was on fire. Tears welled in her eyes as the bleeding began. She turned and started running for her mother.

Inside, she found her mother in the sitting room. Tears freely flowing now, the girl hurried over to her for comfort. Between sobs, she told what had happened to her.

"Sp..spider bit me!" She held the bleeding spider bite up to her mother to see. The woman looked at it indifferently.

"Go have Nana look at it," the woman replied, without care.

Nana was the nurse. She would bandage her up. She took care of all of Ceinwyn's hurts. Ceinwyn turned and headed through the doorway and into the kitchen, where Nana often assisted in cooking. Nana wasn't in the kitchen this time, so Ceinwyn went upstairs to look for her.

She was in the nursery, sitting in the rocking chair, knitting what appeared to be a scarf. Ceinwyn hurried over to her.

"A spider bit me!" she cried, holding up the now-dried wound. It looked worse than it really was, with dry blood covering it. But to a five year old, it was a war wound.

"Well now, that doesn't look so bad," Nana began, "Let's just go wash that up and put a proper dressing on it."

Ceinwyn, calmer now at Nana's soothing judgement of the situation, followed her into the washroom. Nana took a damp wash cloth and began to dab at the wound, lightly. When she had finished, she held the small hand up for Ceinwyn to see. Now that the blood was washed off, it looked like the tiniest of marks. Ceinwyn, mollified, held still while Nana wound a small strip of cloth around her hand and tucked the end in.

"There now," the woman said, " All better. You have to be careful what you play with. Some spiders can be very poisonous."

"What does poisness mean, Nana?" Ceinwyn looked at the nursemaid, curiously.

"Poisonous is when something can bite you, and the bite has poison in it. Poison makes you sick, and you might very well die. That is why you shouldn't play with insects, Ceinwyn."

Ceinwyn nodded at Nana's advice, wrapping her mind around the idea of poison and spiders and bites. Once Nana had left the room, Ceinwyn traipsed down the stairs to her mother. She remembered that she had been calling her when she had been bitten.

She was in the sitting room, still, writing on a piece of note paper. As Ceinwyn entered the room, Shannon spoke.

"Did Nana take care of your hand?"

"Yes, mother," Ceinwyn responded obediently.

Shannon rose quickly from the chair, to stand looming over the girl. She gazed down on her, seething in anger, her face twisted and ugly.

"Don't call me that!" she fumed, "Don't you ever call me that again or I'll lock you in the shed forever.. do you understand me?"

Ceinwyn nodded quickly, swallowing against the tight lump in her throat.

"But why?" she timidly asked, looking up at Shannon's face, her own a mask of fear.

"Don't question me. Just do as I say," she struggled to calm down and once she had, she focused her attention on the list she had been making, avoiding looking at the little girl's face. "I want you to go to the market and bring back some things."

Ceinwyn perked up at the prospect of going into town, but looked at her mother uncertainly.

"Aren't you coming with me?" she asked.

"No, you are going by yourself," came Shannon's answer.

Hopefully, something happens and you don't come home..

Ceinwyn nodded at the answer. She looked to the list. It wasn't a very long list, just a few items. She had learned to read from Nana the year before, and she was very proud of how well she had picked up on it. Shannon, however, hadn't seemed so impressed over the girl's advanced intelligence. In her mind, it just made life easier for her- an excuse not to read to the girl at bedtime. Not that she read to the girl anyway, mind you, it was just nice to have a convenient excuse.

Ceinwyn took the list and the small pouch of coins that Shannon handed to her. She often had gone to the shops with Nana, so thankfully, she was familiar with the back and forth path into town. Still, the idea of going alone was somewhat frightening. Though, to be honest, she was becoming used to being alone.

<<<<@>>>>


Grabbing the shopping basket and the shawl that she was always supposed to wear whenever she went into town, she stepped over the threshold by herself for the very first time. She felt a sense of freedom that made her a bit giddy. No one holding her hand, no one hurrying her past all the sights that caught her attention. Now she would finally be able to stop and look at new things.

She enjoyed the walk to the marketplace. It wasn't a very long walk, as they lived just across the bridge, whereupon she stopped to toss in a pebble or two and watch as ripples disrupted her reflection.

Continuing on her way, the aroma of freshly baked apple pie drifted over her. She tilted her head back, inhaling deeply. More than the pie was in the air. The fragrance of horse sweat and dust as people rushed by her on either side, on their way to and leaving the marketplace. It was a busy day.

She fended her way though the crowd, getting shoved a few times as she cut across someone's path. Finally, she was in front of the farmer's shop. All of the items on her list were vegetables, so this was the place she needed. She wandered up to the shop, pushing at its large-windowed door. A bell sounded somewhere above her as the door opened. This caught her attention as it always did and she looked up, the shawl falling back off of her head to rest on her shoulders.

Suddenly the bustle and noise in the shop hushed, and she glanced around to find everyone in it staring at her. She gazed around at all of them, nodding a bit to some of them, nervously. Why were they staring at her so? Slowly, amidst their gazes, she made her way to the counter and produced her list for the shopkeeper.

He, too, was startled to see a girl with such odd coloring of the eyes and hair. He reached to take the list from the child, his eyes never leaving her face. He glanced down at the list, and then up quickly to the faces of his customers, whom were all watching the exchange. Well, all but one. Some stranger from out of town was busy examining a few herb canisters in the far corner, and seemed not to have noticed the lack of commotion.

The little girl looked up at him, expectantly. She lifted a hand to brush some of that bright hair out of her face. The movement revealed slightly pointed ears and more than a few of the customers gasped audibly. It was then that the merchant decided he had to fill the girl's order quickly, in order to get her out of his shop all the faster.

He hustled around the room, collecting everything on the list and then returned to the counter. She offered a small bag of coins up to him, and he dumped them on the counter top to count them out. He took all but two of the coins, the right amount. He certainly didn't wish to anger whoever her patron was. He deposited the remaining coins back into the pouch and dropped the bag into her out-stretched hand. He pushed all the vegetables rudely across the counter to her. She put them, one by one, into the basket she carried.

Smiling at him, she offered a quiet "thank you" and turned to go. The rest of the customers gave a wide berth to her on her way to the door. After she had gone out they turned to look at the shopkeeper with mixed looks of fear and hatred and revulsion. He realized belatedly that his assistance had just destroyed his business. The stranger in the far corner just smiled to himself.

<<<<@>>>>


Outside, Ceinwyn allowed her nose to guide her to the bakery where that delicious aroma had come from. She stepped through the doorway and into the shop, pausing in surprise as she looked around the store. She had never seen so many wonderful looking cakes and pies and cookies and treats. Some that she had never even heard of! She wandered around the room, gazing wide-eyed at each confection.

A loud cough from the counter startled her out of her exploration. The baker was watching her, and didn't seem at all happy to see her. In fact, he seemed particularly angry at her.

"Get out," he said.

"But I wanted to-"

"Get out of my shop, you nasty little beast! And don't you ever come back!"

The man was advancing on her with a broom, now. She scooted from behind one of the displays and bee-lined for the door. On her way out, she caught a glimpse of a boy, watching from beside the counter. She couldn't place it, but he looked familiar somehow. She hurried through the door and back outside.

People who were walking past were giving her odd looks, as well, she realized. Why were they looking at her that way? Then she realized, her shawl had fallen back at the farmer's shop. She quickly pulled it back up to cover her hair and held it tight with one hand, lest it should fall down again.

She hurried home, feeling as if a thousand hating eyes were on her. Why did they not like her? She asked herself this on the way home over and over.

<<<<@>>>>


Once she was home, she hurried through the front door. She glanced to the window at her left, that dreaded window that she was told so often not to look out of, and realized with a start that she remembered where she had seen that boy from the bakery. He had been the one she had seen those years back, walking past with his mother. She wondered if he remembered her.

She took the basket to the kitchen and left it on a counter for Cook. Then she headed to the east door, intent on bringing the coin pouch back to her mother. A shout from the other side of the door brought her to a halt.

She put her ear to the door to listen. She heard her mother's voice, arguing with someone. She soon recognized the other voice. She couldn't make out what the woman was saying, but she could tell by the softened tone that it was Nana.

"Of course I told her to go alone, do you think I ever want to be seen with that.. that ugly little half-breed?!"

Tears came hot and quick to the child's eyes. She dropped the coin pouch on the floor and rushed to the back door. Opening it, she flung herself outside into the garden. The ruined web to the side of the stairs gave reminder of what had happened before, and she searched on the ground for a stick. Finding a fat branch, she ran to her spider's web and smashed it with the stick, angrily. With this new found outlet for her frustration, she went around to each of the webs, destroying them.

(to be continued...)


Last edited by Ceinwyn ab'Arawn on Wed Nov 18, 2009 2:49 pm; edited 1 time in total
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PostPosted: Mon Sep 22, 2008 8:13 pm Post subject: Reply with quote

Chapter Five
A Young Outcast




Nana was a kind soul. The young girl that had been given into her care had won her heart over, despite her initial feelings at taking the position as nursemaid. She had been somewhat timid when she had learned that her charge would be half drow. "Different" they had actually said. Learning the truth had been surprising to the middle-aged woman. She had expected a rotten, spoiled little beast, and instead had found a small girl very much in need of kindness.

She often found it difficult to understand the girl's mother, whom seemed to want nothing at all to do with the child. She realized that it was because of the girl's heritage, but even that was stretching things. What mother could not love her own child, no matter who the father was? So little Ceinwyn, in a way, filled the void in her heart that the loss of her own daughter had left.

She often defended the girl's actions, to a point. Even she realized that she could not afford to lose her employment. Work was increasingly difficult to find at her age.

She stood there, now, enduring the wrath of the Lady ab'Arawn as she went on and on about Ceinwyn's latest discovery.

"I don't want her in my room. I don't want her playing in there, and trying on my clothing and jewelry. It is your responsibility to keep her under control. If you cannot do your job, I will find someone who can."

"Your ladyship, I only turned my back for a few minutes to check on something in the kitchen. When I returned, she had gone off on her own."

"Well then, you had better watch her more closely in the future," Shannon threatened.

"Your ladyship, might I make a suggestion that would keep the girl from getting in your way and into your things?"

Shannon fixed a curious gaze on the older woman. "Speak, you have my attention."

"She is old enough to attend school, why not send her there? It will keep her out of the house the entire day," Nana had other reasons for sending Ceinwyn to school, but she knew these words were the ones that would win Shannon over. The woman hated to be reminded of the child that resided in her home.

"Is she old enough already? How old is she, anyway?"

"She is just over seven years old," Nana dutifully reminded Shannon, surprised that the woman didn't even know her own daughter's age.

"I have no desire to walk her to school or have it known that I am her mother."

Nana had expected that, when had it ever been different? But, instead she reinforced her request with a bit of fear.

"The constable keeps record of all the children in town, and he will come by to fine us if she does not attend. I hear the highest penalty is imprisonment for not sending a child of age to school. It has something to do with this new plan that Lord British is implementing," the nursemaid said.

Shannon looked at Nana sharply, "Imprisonment? I'm not going to jail over that little beast. Take her in tomorrow and register her."

Nana nodded meekly," As you wish, milady." With that, she left the room, hiding a triumphant smile.

She had been wanting to send little Ceinwyn to school for some time. The change of atmosphere would be good for the girl, and perhaps she might make some friends. The child dearly needed a friend. It would also encourage that sharp brain of hers. Nana knew the girl had already read every book she could get her small hands on. Her mind was unchallenged and going to waste in their house.

~~{@}~~


"I'm going to be going to school, Nana?" the little girl asked.

"Yes, child. First thing in the morning," Nana smiled as she searched through the girl's wardrobe looking for something nice to wear on her first day.

The news filled Ceinwyn with all sorts of excitement. She swung her legs back and forth, bouncing each in turn against the side of her bed.

"Will there be other children there?" she asked.

"Oh yes, more children than you have ever seen before. And also, lots of books and things to learn, and someone to teach you."

Ceinwyn could hardly wait. To be out of the house at last! She had not ventured forth since that awful day at the marketplace two years earlier. A thought occurred to her. She paused her kicking.

"Will I have to cover my hair?" She looked at Nana, expecting the worst.

Nana looked at Ceinwyn with a compassionate gaze. "No, you don't have to if you don't want to. I expect it'll be a bit hard to keep anything on your head when you are outside at recess, anyway."

For the first time, Nana had doubts about sending her charge to school. Ceinwyn had been deeply troubled by her experience at the market those years ago. She had refused to go at all after that day. Nana could only wonder at what had happened to her, but now she realized Ceinwyn must have been ill-received by some of the people in town. It was a shame, so many directing their hatred at a small child for something beyond her control. Perhaps Ceinwyn would be better off not going, after all.

"Ceinwyn, do you want to go to school?" Nana asked, pausing in her rummage through the closet, her hands holding a nice woven dress.

"Oh yes! I do, Nana," Ceinwyn seemed very eager to go. Rarely had she ever seemed so excited about something. Nana nodded, laying the dress over the back of a chair.

"Then into bed with you, mustn't be all groggy for your first day at school."

She waited as Ceinwyn crawled between the blankets. Leaning over, she gave the child a hug. "Good night, sweety."

"Good night, Nana," came her reply, followed by a tired yawn.

Nana smiled softly and blew out the candle before making her way to the door.

~~{@}~~


The next morning, Ceinwyn skipped the entire way to school, holding Nana's hand. Never before had autumn looked or felt more beautiful to the girl. It even smelled wonderful, all wet colored leaves and chilled wind, holding the promise of winter not far off. She even hummed to herself, a small melody that she had heard Cook sing in the kitchen from time to time.

Nana smiled to herself at how happy the girl was to be going to school. She knew in her heart that everything would work out for the best.

The school yard was a very busy place with children everywhere. Some were playing with jacks in a corner, while others played tag. These were games that Ceinwyn had never seen before, and she was intrigued.

As they walked through the courtyard toward the front doors, some of the children noticed her and turned to watch the new student. Ceinwyn smiled at those who did, though most of them just turned away. There was one girl, about her age, that actually smiled back. It made Ceinwyn feel even better as she and Nana entered the building and headed to the headmaster's office to register.

~~{@}~~


"Her presence will cause a huge disturbance within our school. I don't think we are prepared to handle a situation like this. It is highly irregular."

"Then perhaps you would like a huge compensation for your trouble?" Nana was trying to convince the schoolmaster to allow Ceinwyn to attend.

"That would help considerably," he nodded. Nana relaxed. Times hadn't changed so much after all, the world still revolved around gold.

~~{@}~~


Outside the office, Nana bade farewell to Ceinwyn, hugging her tight and wishing her luck on her first day. A member of the staff came to lead Ceinwyn to her classroom.

On the walls hung artwork made by students. Chalk pictures and paintings lined the walls of the hallway. One picture stood out in her mind above all the rest. It was a picture of a family. She stood there transfixed, studying it, until the staff member tugged her onwards to her class.

An oak-framed door opened onto a class of fifteen small children, all about the same age as Ceinwyn. The teacher, a younger-looking woman with brown hair and glasses, paused in her speaking to address the new pupil. The staff member pushed Ceinwyn through the doorway and pulled the door closed behind her, leaving her there.

Ceinwyn stood, unable to take a step forward. The class was staring at her with undeniable curiosity.

"Are you going to introduce yourself?" the teacher asked.

Ceinwyn opened her mouth to speak, but found that she could not utter a single word. She was too young to realize that the condition was called stage fright.

"In this class, we answer when spoken to," the teacher scolded. Someone in the back of the classroom giggled. A harsh look from the teacher was enough to silence the offender. The teacher turned her gaze toward Ceinwyn, expectantly.

"My name is Ceinwyn ab'Arawn, of House Arawn," the girl recited, as she was taught to.

She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, uncomfortable under the scrutiny of so many curious eyes. The teacher looked her over, as well, and then began to sift through a stack of papers on her desk. She unearthed a slate and a piece of chalk and extended them to Ceinwyn.

"Take this. You will sit beside Connor." She pointed out an empty desk toward the back of the room, beside a boy, whom to Ceinwyn, looked very familiar, indeed. The boy from the bakery shop!

Ceinwyn accepted the utensils with a slight nod, and made her way to her new seat. She could feel them all watching her as she progressed down the row of desks to her chair. She set the slate and chalk down and took a seat in the child-size chair. After looking the front blackboard over, she realized it was a lesson in mathematics. She could do arithmetic. Quite well, actually.

Cook had been the one to instruct her, having decided that if Ceinwyn had something to do, she wouldn't get into trouble nearly as often, and therefore, wouldn't have to go to the shed. It hadn't taken Ceinwyn long to soak up, like a sponge, the extent of Cook's knowledge. She had learned more than enough for a seven year old. Addition, subtraction, multiplication, and even division all quickly learned using the tools of the kitchen and while helping Cook prepare food. In short time, she had even picked up fractions and other applications of math, until Cook had reached the extent of her wisdom.

Still, it was more than was on the blackboard at the front of the room. Ceinwyn nearly bounced with giddiness at the thought that she would be able to do the work, and therefore fit right in.

As the teacher commenced the lesson, Ceinwyn set chalk to slate and began to establish herself as a proper student.

~~{@}~~


Connor was having trouble concentrating on Miss Lane's lesson. His gaze kept drifting to the new girl, Ceinwyn, who sat to his left. He did, in fact recognize and remember her. She had haunted his imagination for years, since the first time he saw her peering out of the window of the big house on Maple Road. He hadn't understood at first why his father had chased her out of their family bake shop. But, since then, everything had been explained to him, quite clearly. His father had seen fit to begin that evening, teaching him about the evil race of beings called Drow.

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, a bit nervous. She didn't look as though she was what his father had described. But, his father had also taught him that things aren't always as they seem.

He stole another glance at her. She was busy copying the math from the chalkboard. She must have felt him watching her, for she turned her gaze to him and smiled. Surely, none of the other girls in class had a smile as pretty as that. Blushing, he looked away, glancing around the classroom to see if anyone else had noticed the exchange. Thankfully, everyone else was busy actually doing the assignment. The assignment that he ought to be doing if he wanted to avoid a switch on the palm from Miss Lane. Relieved, he began to do the problems, as well, hurrying to catch up on the time he had lost in his daydream.

As he worked, the tales of Drow he had heard played out in his mind. Battles and murder, though instead of the menacing-looking dark skinned savages his father had described, he envisioned the innocent and pretty white-haired girl enacting the gruesome deeds. It was a very difficult daydream to keep congruent and the morning was almost an agony for him to get through as he did his lessons.

~~{@}~~


At recess, Ceinwyn found herself out in the schoolyard with the rest of her schoolmates. Everyone had a friend to play with or talk to, except for her. So, she decided to spend her first day spectating, and trying to familiarize herself with all of the new faces and names. Watching had always been a favorite activity, as she was never before allowed beyond the border of their property.

She was left alone for the entire recess. No one had approached her at all seeking to initiate a friendship. Still, it was only her first day. Perhaps tomorrow would be better.

~~{@}~~


With recess over, Ceinwyn was back in her seat, cleaning off her slate for the next set of lessons. They had already covered a bit of math and spelling. The teacher, whose name she had discovered was Miss Lane, had promised a bit of history. Ceinwyn was immensely interested in learning more about the world she was finally a part of.

The rest of the class was still a bit excited from the recess activities they had been involved in, and there was noisy chatter in the air as they awaited the return of their teacher.

Ceinwyn realized that the boy, Connor, was staring at her again. She decided to say hello to him, this time. Maybe he was just shy? She turned to look at him.

"Hello," she said, offering her hand as she was taught to do.

Connor just stared at her as if she was insane. He looked at her outstretched hand and then back at her, uncertainty on his face as he tried to decide how to react.

"Don't touch me! You're a freak!" he said, loud enough to gain the attention of everyone else in the class.

Once again, all eyes were on her. Ceinwyn felt her cheeks warm with embarrassment, and she gazed at the faces of the other children in the class. One by one, as her gaze met the gaze of each, the child turned away from her. She could see the truth in each pair of eyes, she was different, and not like them at all.

(to be continued...)
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PostPosted: Sun Sep 28, 2008 7:27 pm Post subject: Reply with quote

Chapter Six


It was a fair day for the paladins training on the field. The sun was overhead, but it wasn't bright enough for the reflections of their armor to blind them as they practiced. Some of the knights had colored ribbons tied to various pieces of their armor. Tokens of their lady's love. One knight in particular had several different ribbons affixed to him.

Sir Carrigan was a popular object of infatuation. Most of the older girls sought to win his affections. The younger girls, those Ceinwyn's age, all had crushes on him, as well. He was a renowned fighter. He never lost at jousting. He knew how to work the crowd. All in all, he was nothing short of amazing.

She leaned against the fencepost, captivated by all the paladins training at swordplay. It was a popular thing to come by the training grounds after school had let out to watch the soldiers train. Not more than thirty feet further down the fence the rest of her schoolmates also stood looking on.

She had grown used to the isolation, by then. The other children kept their distance from her. Ceinwyn sometimes liked to imagine that it had all been Connor Baker's fault. Ever since that first day at school, she had been singled out by all. But just because she liked to imagine that it was all the fault of a seven year old boy didn't mean that she actually believed it. She knew it would have happened sooner or later, anyway.

As she watched the awe-inspiring Sir Carrigan duel his opponent, and win, again, she knew that this was just one more thing she had in common with the other children. She smiled to herself. Perhaps one day they would realize she really wasn't that different.

~~~{{}}~~~


As his school chums cheered the knights on, Connor's attention kept drifting away from the warriors and toward Ceinwyn. She was smiling. Connor scowled to himself. Like the other boys his age, he had often pretended that he was Sir Carrigan. It was a common game for the children to take turns pretending that they were valiant knights, racing to nearby Destard to slay dragons and rescue maidens. Of course, all the boys wanted to be like Sir Carrigan when they grew up, so they always fought over who got to "be" the famous paladin.

Likewise, the girls who joined the fun all wanted to be rescued. Well, not all of them, Connor reflected. Ceinwyn never joined them in any of their games. Whenever it was his turn to be Sir Carrigan, he had always wished she would play with them and be the distressed damsel. But he knew that that would never happen, and he was partly to blame. No, it wasn't his fault. It was her fault for being "different". Why did she have to go and be different...

And as he saw her smiling at Sir Carrigan like that, he decided that he hated Sir Carrigan. He had never really liked him to begin with, and one day he would be an even better swordsman, anyway. And Ceinwyn would smile at him, instead.

~~~{{}}~~~


Of course, Ceinwyn had a small crush on the popular knight. What young girl of ten didn't? It was a guilty secret she allowed herself. But, all secrets aside, it was time for her to head home for the evening. There was work and studying to be done.

Turning, she headed down King Street, as she always did, to the shortcut through Miss Sheffield's orchard. This way saved fifteen minutes of walk time, and was well worth it if you were late.

The orchard itself was in a state of disrepair. Miss Sheffield was a bed-ridden old woman. The orchard had been either forgotten or simply left to its own design for reasons only Miss Sheffield knew. It had been this way for a long time, and because of such, it had become laden with paths worn in the grass from frequent trespass.

Ceinwyn had each path memorized, as she had traveled down the length of each of them. She stepped onto the main path from the street. As always, she paused to take a deep breath. There was just something about the orchard that brought peace to the girl. It was almost as if the trees whispered to her to come and play with them.

Even now, she could almost hear it. She heard the wind picking up speed, blowing the branches wildly, sending the more flowery trees' petals flying in every which direction. She didn't recall it being nearly so breezy before she had stepped onto the property. Looking back toward King Street, she realized with a start that none of the trees on the other side of the road were blowing at all. Turning back toward the orchard, she wondered what it could mean.

She took a step along the path. Then another, and another. Each step took her further into the maelstrom. Her hair blew wildly and her bag threatened to take flight. Small twigs and bits of sand flew about chaotically, forcing her to protect her eyes with her other hand. She followed the path through the orchard, wind whipping about her with every step as she progressed deeper.

And then, just as suddenly as it had started, the air was suddenly still.

Ceinwyn settled her bag more firmly on her shoulder, wondering at the odd weather. Smoothing her hair and ruffled clothing, she heard a twig snap. She froze.

Then she heard his voice.

~~~{{}}~~~


"Hey freak."

It was Connor. Again. Come to bully her. Again. She turned around, a heavy knot of fear in her stomach. He had all his friends with him, this time. Why did he always have to pick on her? She had never done anything to him. Why couldn't he just leave her alone?

"I'm talking to you, freak," he teased. He and his friends came closer, moving across the ground, quicker than Ceinwyn would have liked. As they circled her, she gripped the strap of her bag even tighter, for security.

Ceinwyn looked at each of the boys, all were from her class. She knew that they didn't like her, as they often made jokes and pointed in her direction. She looked to Connor, fearful.

"What's the matter, freak can't speak like us?" His face, as all of their faces did, held a look of contempt as he stared at her.

"Do you only speak that filthy drow tongue?"

Ceinwyn couldn't speak a lick of drow. In fact, she stood frozen with fear, unable to speak at all, for several seconds. Finally, she found her voice.

"I speak perfectly fine," she replied softly.

"No no.. let's hear it! Let's hear you speak some drow.." he stepped even closer to her.

"I.. I can't.." she stammered, taking an involuntary step backwards as he took yet another closer to her. She felt hands on her arm, squeezing tight and holding her.

"I said.. SPEAK IT!" he yelled. He was in front of her now, his face an inch from hers as he screamed angrily, some spittle flecking her, "SPEAK DROW!"

She flinched and hot tears spilled down her cheeks. The hands on her arms squeezed down tightly, pressing down hard on already existing bruises from recent similar situations. She winced in pain, but it seemed to anger Connor even more. He drew his hand back and then slammed it forward into her stomach.

She doubled over in pain as air was forced from her stomach.

"Since you won't speak drow for us, we're just gonna beat you, freak."

A boy to her right stepped forward, swinging the tip of his boot into her knee. She fell sideways to the ground, crying out in pain and clutching her stomach and her bag. The rest of the boys took that as a signal to start hitting her. She tried to curl into a ball as she felt the first blow to her back. Tears flowed freely as the ten year old girl lay there, sobbing as they continued to beat her.

She lost track of time, but eventually the blows ceased. She lifted her head to focus on what was happening. She could make out a voice, yelling across the orchard. The boys around her must have been fearful of being caught, as they set heel to dirt and fled. Ceinwyn lay there on the ground as her unlikely savior approached. She opened her eyes and looked up to find Sir Carrigan standing above her, taking in the scene. She reached out, placing her hand on his booted foot, trying unsuccessfully to say "thank you".

He kicked her hand off of his boot, with an insulted sneer.

"Don't touch me, you filthy half-breed!" Turning, he stalked off, back in the direction he had come from. He was leaving her there, battered and bruised, to die.

The last thing Ceinwyn felt before blackness claimed her was a sense of betrayal.

~~~{{}}~~~


When she awoke, the sky was darker. How long had she been asleep? Minutes? Hours? She struggled to pull herself to a sitting position and every bruise on her body screamed in pain. Crying out in soft winces with each painful movement, she managed to stand. Once more on the path, she began a torturous walk home.

A figure in the darkness watched every labored step.

~~~{{}}~~~


Closing the front door, Ceinwyn went through the regular, although painful, motions of hanging her cloak and removing her boots. She deposited her bag on the rack beside the door before making her way stiffly to the dining room.

As she stepped through the doorway, she heard the scrape of a chair as Nana stood in shocked concern at her appearance. She looked to her mother, still firmly ensconced in her seat at the head of the table.

"You are late, and you are not dressed for dinner."

Ceinwyn stared at her mother, silent. The woman gazed back at her broken face.

"You will leave this room, and you will change for dinner or you will not eat," Shannon commanded.

"I was beaten by boys from school..." Ceinwyn began to explain, but her mother cut her words off.

"You will leave this room, and you will go get dressed for dinner. Do you understand?"

Nana stood there, her hand to her mouth, worried as she watched the exchange.

"But, mother, I.." the small girl started.

"I told you never to call me that!" Shannon shrieked, rising from her chair in a rage the likes of which Ceinwyn had never before seen. The woman flew at her, swinging her hand violently across Ceinwyn's cheek. But she did not stop there. The slap seemed to trigger the release of some pent up anger the woman possessed, and she rained smacks down on the child in fury.

Ceinwyn wrapped her arms around her head to try to protect herself and dropped down to the floor, defensively. Gasps of despair escaped Nana and Ceinwyn could barely hear her trying to calm Shannon down.

Her strength spent, at last the little girl lost her grip on consciousness.

(to be continued...)
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PostPosted: Sat Oct 04, 2008 5:01 pm Post subject: Reply with quote

Chapter Seven
Alone By Choice


Nana died that summer. It was just after Ceinwyn's twelfth birthday that the kind old lady who had tried to be the mother that her own mother could not be had passed like a candle in the wind. Ceinwyn had never seen death, before. But, she had been at Nana's bedside, holding her hand and singing the lullaby for the old woman, as Nana had done for her so many times before.

Nana's passing left Ceinwyn truly alone in the world. Gone was her sole friend, her secret confidant. The woman whom she wished could have been her real mother, instead of Shannon. Now, there was no one to soften the tantrums that Shannon often threw at her. No one to soothe her after the angry, bruising tirades.

Ceinwyn had poured herself into her schoolwork and studies, determined to at least excel in knowledge if she could not in popularity. She spent long hours delving into all the books she had been unable to understand as a child.

She spent a lot of time outdoors. The year past, she had found an almost hidden trail in Miss Sheffield's yard. The out of the way path had led her deep into the jungle south of Trinsic, full of green-tinted sunlight and birdsong. Simply being in the clearing had given her a sense of peace she had never known. It was her secret spot.

Whenever she was down or sad, which was quite often, she would rush to the secret sheltered place to be alone. She did almost everything in the sunny grove of cypress and banana trees. Reading and imagining were key parts of her escape from the harsh reality of her life.

And then there was swordplay. After her letdown from Sir Carrigan's decidedly unchivalrous behavior at the attack a few years earlier, she had decided that she would learn to sword fight. This decision had only come recently, though, and without a teacher or mentor she was far from able to do anything useful with a sword, other than to hold it and mimic what she'd seen on the training grounds. So she practiced clumsy thrusts and parries and ripostes with a wooden branch she had carved into a smooth stick with a kitchen knife.

Through it all, she endured the daily torment of Connor and his bully friends, though it never seemed like the boy would mature and outgrow this now annoyingly childish behavior. For the past five years, he had never seemed to tire of harassing her. For the life of her, she could not understand why. She only knew she had to survive the ritual beatings and teasing. Something inside her held out hope that it would not last forever.

Little did she know, her secret place was not so secret. Often, she felt as if she was being watched, but whenever she would turn to discover who had been watching her, she would find herself alone.

She was finding that being alone was not so bad, if it was by choice.
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PostPosted: Fri Oct 10, 2008 8:12 pm Post subject: Reply with quote

Chapter Eight
A Season Of Change


The new school year began basically the same way all the previous years had. A new teacher, a new classroom, but the same old class. As the now fourteen year old students filed into the room, Ceinwyn could already tell who would be sitting with whom, who would be best friends, and who would be rivals.

Cynthia Woods entered the room, chatting excitedly with Brook Miller. Brook had recently moved here from Skara Brae, and had obviously been popular there. It was no wonder she had immediately fallen in with Cynthia and her friends. They had been best friends since Brook's first week of school, last April. Cynthia's other two best friends, Jill and Patricia, were listening to the conversation with equal interest. Ceinwyn knew without a doubt that they would occupy the four chairs to the rear right of the classroom.

Ceinwyn had already taken the seat that she knew would be left to her. She had been forced to take the farthest left corner of the class since the second day of school when she was seven. The teacher's reasoning was that because she had somewhat elven eyesight that she had no need to sit up in the front row, which is exactly where Ceinwyn wished to be. Where Connor would never want to sit.

As the students filed in and took their favorite places, she still prayed the now oft-repeated prayer to the Virtues that he would decide not to sit beside her this year. She noticed that yet again, the prayer failed her, as Connor plunked down at the desk next to hers.

<<<<<>>>>>


The end of the first day came at last. She gathered her books and made her way to the exit. The hallway was decorated by the younger students in an autumn theme. Colorful leaves made by tracing seven year old hands spotted the walls in fall hues and warm tones. It paired with the crisp breeze let in through open windows to create what, to her, was the ideal autumn feel. She could hear the trees outside, leaves rustling in heavy winds. She hastened through the double doors to put herself in the midst of nature's revelry.

Outside, the trees swayed as if in the throws of a heavy gale, and yet, Ceinwyn felt no breeze. No stray leaf or twig blew wildly, not a strand of hair stirred on the head of any student venturing home.

She wondered why the trees would act this way. Could it be magic? Her mind chased the answer as she began the familiar walk through the orchard toward home.

<<<<<>>>>>


She was nearly home, and the trees had not ceased their violent swaying. If anything, she noted, the wind seemed to be blowing the trees more erratically the closer she grew to the end of the Sheffield Estate.

Then, without warning, they mysteriously stilled. Not a branch waved nor leaf shook. Ceinwyn was mulling this over when that awful familiar voice sounded from behind her. Not again, she sighed.

"Hey witch-girl, where do you think you're going?" Connor spoke to the back of her head.

She didn't turn around, she just increased her pace, eager to be out of the woods and in front of her house.

"I said, where do you think you're going, freak? You better stop when I'm talking to you, drow," The tone of that final word was so menacing, Ceinwyn did stop and turn around to look at him.

Connor was a decent-looking young man. He was fifteen, having began school a year later than other children his age. He had blonde hair with startling green eyes, and Ceinwyn could count on one hand the number of girls who had a crush on him. It was rumored that he was to become a squire to Sir Langston in a few years.

It was a shame that his otherwise good looks were now marred by the ugliness of pure hatred. Warm green eyes became the venomous greens of a cat, and his mouth upturned in a sneer of ill-intent.

She took a step backwards, but halted herself, immediately.

"Why do you bully me so, Connor? I've never done anything to you," she asked, timorously, noting that today he was alone.

The question must have caught him off guard, for he paused in his approach to look at her curiously. She harbored a hope that for once, he would prefer the non-violent path. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came. He seemed at a loss to explain. He gazed at her, for once as a person and not a thing. She almost basked in that blessed gaze, but his expression soured all too quickly, and the moment of connection was lost. The inability to answer the question enraged him, and she was the outlet for his anger.

He took a step toward her, and the trees began to rustle around them. If he noticed, he gave no sign, he simply advanced, hands clenched now and his intent written across his face. She would be battered again.

But, as he grew closer, to nearly a stride away, Ceinwyn did something she had never dared to do before. She stood her ground.

And as the seconds ticked by, the memories of what she had spent long summer days doing came back to her. Memories of thrusts and parries, ripostes and more. What had previously been amateurish mimicry of knightly training had blossomed during this last summer into something more. No longer was she the ungainly child swinging a branch in imitation of the armored men on the training field. She was something more.

She stood her ground.

Connor came within her circle of defense with his signature move. He swung a fist at her stomach. She, of course, had practiced against this most customary move of his so many times that she could see it with her eyes closed. She had noted that he usually put all his force into this first punch, and she knew she could easily use the velocity against him.

So as his fist flew at her, she did something else she had never dared to do before. She dropped her books and dodged to the left, and fairly quickly, at that. Connor's momentum dragged him forward in surprise as his fist failed to meet its target. He was falling past her, rapidly, and Ceinwyn knew that she had to take advantage of this lapse of defense to make an offensive move of her own. She dropped herself a head lower and brought her fist forward, using Connor's own momentum against him as she swung her fist full force into his sternum.

The blow rocked through Connor, causing his air to expel rapidly. He collapsed to his side on the grass, as the wind died down around them. Ceinwyn just stared down at him as he lay there, eyes closed, trying to breathe.

She knew a momentary sensation of triumph that was all too soon swallowed by fear. Certainly, he would be sure to torment her twice as hard next time, and he would have his friends with him.

She gathered her books up from the ground and hurried in the direction of home, leaving Connor lying in the grass, no doubt plotting revenge as he regained his air.



(to be continued...)
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PostPosted: Wed Oct 22, 2008 4:27 pm Post subject: Reply with quote

Chapter Nine
A Dark Offer


Surprisingly enough, neither Connor nor any of his friends bothered Ceinwyn that school year at all. Be it from fear or respect, she did not question. She simply enjoyed the reprieve and took the time to focus on her schoolwork and personal interests. The school year itself passed by without event.

Life at home, however, was another story. As Ceinwyn grew older, it seemed that Shannon took more and more notice of the blooming young woman who shared her house. The jealousy she had once felt toward Fallon was now directed toward her charge. The girl had inherited a bit of her sister's bone structure, high cheekbones that bespoke her father's bloodline. A trait which Shannon had always coveted but had never herself been gifted with. This was only one of the minor annoyances that Shannon let grate on her nerves. The girl was soft-spoken, as if she knew things, yet wouldn't tell them. Shannon was sure the girl was spying on her and looking through her personal belongings when she wasn't around. How else could such wisdom be present in eyes so young?

This jealousy and suspicion fueled her frequent rages, in which Ceinwyn ended up lashed with a rod and performing half the duties within the household, even though there were a score of servants to perform chores.

After her chores were done, Ceinwyn would retreat to her secret place in the jungle to reflect on her life and what she wanted to do with it.

* * * * * *


It was during one of these quiet moments that he chose to reveal himself to her for the first time.

She'd been practicing a new move with her makeshift sword, when she heard his voice.

"Swing lower, if you swing it too high you leave a gap for your opponent to attack." He stepped forward, emerging from the underbrush in front of her.

Ceinwyn straightened immediately, taking the stranger in. He was dressed fine, as a gentleman would, but a bit on the dark side in a deep red. The dark color choice made him appear a bit pale, as did his black hair. She knew a moment of embarrassment, imagining how she must look in her worn brown homespun dress. She smoothed a stray strand of her white hair behind an ear and chewed her lip nervously as he introduced himself.

"Good day, miss. My name is Andreas Kincade," he spoke eloquently.

"My name is Ceinwyn ab-"

"ab'Arawn," he interrupted, "Yes, I know very well who you are. In fact, I might know more about you than even you do."

As Ceinwyn considered the possible explanations of that, he continued.

"Actually, I've come to offer you a gift. You see, I've been watching you for some time now."

"You've been watching me?" she asked, but he was already continuing.

"It's a shame, that which you are forced to endure. Why should life be such an ordeal?"

"Ordeal? What do you mean-" she was feeling defensive, though she herself had often questioned why she must have such a troubled existence.

"The bullying at school? The beatings at home? Come now, surely you know that which I speak about. Don't try to pretend otherwise. I told you, I know more about you than you could ever guess. I know you, Ceinwyn ab'Arawn."

His manner caught her off guard. She'd never been spoken to as an equal before. Odd, how after so many years of mistreatment, she found herself naturally distrusting of his friendly demeanor. Yet she still did.

"Why have you been watching me?" she asked, though she was afraid of the answer.

"As I said, I come to offer you a gift. Your name is on the wind, in the air when the trees blow," he was watching her now, to judge her reaction. He was not disappointed.

"The trees?" She glanced upwards towards the treetops, before looking back at him.

He nodded, "I know you've seen it, when no one else has. The wind blowing, though blowing nothing, no matter how hard it gusts. Have you never wondered all these years what it might mean?"

Ceinwyn nodded. Of course she'd wondered, who wouldn't?

"It's magic, and that is why I'm here. To offer you a special gift of powerful magic."

Ceinwyn was smart enough to know that it took years of practice to become as powerful as a wizard like the famous Nystul.

"What kind of magic could you possibly give me that would be powerful?"

"My dear, I offer you the chance to study under a very powerful necromancer."

"A.. necromancer?" Ceinwyn stammered.

Necromancy was horrid stuff. Every book she had ever seen it in only barely mentioned it, as if the word itself was forbidden to write. It went against all things natural to command the dead into life, to twist nature's plan. She recoiled from the idea, realizing that she also was leaning away from the man.

"Come now, it is not so bad as all that. Think of it! The chance to have revenge against those who have mistreated you. A chance to make right all that which has been wrong. You should not fear them, they should all fear you!" He was speaking strongly now, in a most beguiling way.

Ceinwyn found herself almost coaxed into the idea, until she realized that that was why the townspeople all feared her to begin with. Were not the very drow who'd invaded Trinsic powerful? That fear was what had caused them to mistreat her. Revenge would solve nothing.

"Thank you, but I must respectfully decline," she said, softly.

He straightened up, then, as if surprised at the rejection of his offer. But, he relaxed quickly, assuming the casually regal stance, once more.

"I understand. Then, without further ado, good day," and with those words, he walked backwards the way he had come, retreating into the woodland growth until he was gone from site.

Ceinwyn did not bother to check and see if he'd gone. If he did not wish to be found, she reasoned, then he would not allow himself to be. She crossed herself in the sign of the virtuous ankh that she had held out against darkness this day.

(to be continued...)
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PostPosted: Wed Nov 05, 2008 10:38 pm Post subject: Reply with quote

Chapter Ten
Innocence Lost


Two years had passed, and the now seventeen-year-old Ceinwyn was in class, packing her books into her bag. She had been surprised that year when, for the first time, Connor had chosen a seat on the other side of class. She had been able to focus on the lessons instead of swatting his hands away from her. With a sigh of relief, she had decided that perhaps he had finally matured. She had managed to avoid him the entire year, for the most part. It was too bad his friends still delighted in tormenting her, continuing the tradition he had started with daily teasing and abuse.

Nor had she seen that mysterious stranger, Andreas Kincade, since he had offered her that curse of a gift. Necromancy. The last thing she wanted was to become a murderous monster, forced to offer up death in exchange for power. The idea turned her stomach.

For once, she had something bright to look forward to. Most of the girls in class were chattering excitedly about the dance that was coming up. The school held an annual dance for those of the students who were graduating and it was on the tip of everyone's tongue. Ceinwyn dearly wished to attend, even if she did not have an escort. She had been working on a dress for the event, whenever she could find a moment.

It seemed that Shannon cared little about what Ceinwyn did or where she went, as long as it did not affect her in any way.

*^*^*^*^*^*^*


The night of the dance arrived. Ceinwyn took the garment she had been working on for months out of the wardrobe with care. She had worked so hard on this dress and she couldn't wait to finally wear it. The dress was beautiful, by popular standards, a purple damask affair bordered with delicate lacework edging. The neckline was shaped low enough to accent her slender elven collarbone, yet high enough not to be considered too scandalous. The rich shade of purple satin perfectly matched the hue of her eyes.

She wondered what the other girls would be wearing to the dance and hoped that she would at least be as fashionable as them.

She called one of the servants to her room to help her pile her hair in curls on top of her head. Abigail helped her into the dress, and cinched it for her in the places she could not herself reach. When Ceinwyn was fully ensconced in the garment, she walked to the mirror to examine the results.

Beside her, she heard Abigail utter a surprised cry of delight. She smiled. The dress was made for her, and so it completely transformed her into an almost ethereal creature. She knew that she would never forget this night, and allowed herself a whimsical childish moment of pretend. She would be like a fairytale for this one night.

*^*^*^*^*^*^*


The early summer night was gloriously warm with a hint of leftover spring briskness. Ceinwyn decided to walk to the dance, as it was just a short ways down the road at the Counselor's Hall. She breathed deep the night air, made magical by the impending festivities of the evening. Tufts of dress were gathered in each hand as her dyed slippers softly met the cobbled lane with each excited step she took. Even the trees seemed to dance along the sides of the road, as if to some unheard melody. Shortly, she stood at the steps leading into the hall. She gathered her dress a bit higher, to better take each step without trampling the delicate garment, and made her way into the hall.

*^*^*^*^*^*^*


The last few years had been torment for Connor. Ever since his embarrassing defeat in Sheffield's Grove, he had avoided Ceinwyn ab'Arawn like the plague. It had done nothing for his infatuation with the girl, though. Sure, he had had his share of admirers in that time, but he could not look upon any of them without noticing what they lacked. This one had lovely porcelain skin, but her eyes weren't the right shade of color, if only they were more purple. Another had lovely ringlets of hair, but that, too, was too warm in tone. It should have been more pale, even white. Some were too tall, others too wide, for his preference. The damned halfbreed claimed his every thought, and it was all he could do to try to hide his obsession on a daily basis.

That is why, when she appeared in the doorway of the Counselor's Hall, in a dress most assuredly designed to torture him, he nearly dropped the lovely Cynthia Woods, mid-dip during their dance. She was standing in the doorway, the light from the lanterns outside framing her angelically. Cynthia huffed a cry of disgust at his behavior and he reminded himself that she was his escort to the dance. He redirected his attention to his raven-haired date, all apologies. But every time she looked away, even for a second, Connor found his gaze straying to the vision that was Ceinwyn.

*^*^*^*^*^*^*


She gazed around the room at her classmates, all gaily dressed in taffeta and silk and fabrics she was sure she'd heard the name of but was at a loss to remember. Everyone was so beautiful this night. She knew that tonight it would be easy to pretend that these were not the same people who had contributed to her personal suffering over these last ten years.

She stepped down the entry dais and further into the hall. A servant appeared from some unseen alcove to take her wrap. Uttering a polite "thank you", she made her way to one of the chairs lining the walls of the room, where she took a seat.

Never had she seen so much glitter and sparkle in one room before. It was all so marvelous. It was impossible to be ugly this eve and she found herself relaxing and enjoying watching her classmates. As usual, she settled herself on the sideline to watch them all dancing joyously.

She was so used to being ignored that she was surprised when James Greyson appeared before her. He was one of the more quiet types, and he'd never joined in on picking on her. He preferred to avoid trouble by avoiding her and focusing on his studies. She had once overheard the other girls making fun of him, and had silently and secretly championed his cause ever since, feeling not quite so alone. He was rumored to be leaving for Moonglow after graduation to further develop his love of the arcane, which he had inherited from his father, a merchant of reagents.

"Will you join me for a dance?" He asked her politely, extending a hand.

Ceinwyn felt her cheeks redden and knew that the eyes of their other schoolmates were on them. The more childish of them would no doubt delight in ridiculing them the following week. She threw her nervousness to the wind and placed her gloved hand in his.

"I will join you," she responded with a timid smile.

He guided her to the dance floor, looking every bit the gentleman that his manners hinted. They faced each other and took their respective positions, his hand on her waist and hers on his arm, while her other hand rested in his. They waited for a nervous moment, as the band began the first notes of the next song, and then fell into step with the rhythm.

It was truly magical, Ceinwyn thought. She hadn't expected to be asked to dance by anyone, so she was pleasantly surprised that James had shown the courage to do so. She couldn't contain her smile as she looked into his warm brown eyes. Her mood must have been contagious, for he returned the smile and winked at her as if they shared some private joke.

They kept to themselves the rest of the evening, dancing for the dances they knew, and discussing their plans for after graduation.

*^*^*^*^*^*^*


Connor was fuming all evening. Jealousy raged within him at James' audacity. Cynthia had tried to calm him a few times, but he would have none of it. She had finally had enough and walked off to find a new dance partner, lest her evening be wasted. Connor stood at the beverage table, drowning his anger in wine the entire night.

How dare James dance with that halfbreed! Didn't he realize she was dangerous? Surely, that must have been it. James just wasn't as privileged as he was to have that information. Connor decided that he would have to warn James of the danger.

He saw them collecting their belongings as they made ready to leave and he knew that there wasn't a moment to spare.


*^*^*^*^*^*^*


James was helping her into her wrap when Connor approached them. The angry look in his drink-reddened face was enough to send a sinking feeling into the pit of her stomach. She shrugged the garment on hurriedly, pulling it closed about her almost protectively.

"James! What do you think you're doing? You can't walk this.. this.. thing home! It isn't safe!"

James began to protest angrily at Connor's rudeness.

"She isn't a thing! Good heavens, Connor, how much have you had to drink?" He waved at the air in front of Connor's face, as if to wave the drunken stench away.

"It doesn't matter. You're not walking her home, I am. You wouldn't last two seconds against this beast," Connor gestured at Ceinwyn, and she felt herself redden in embarrassment.

"Stop being so rude, man, that's no way to talk to a lady!" James was unbuttoning his jacket, ready to fight Connor. Ceinwyn could see where this was leading, and her dreaded suspicion was confirmed by Connor's next taunting words.

"That isn't a lady!" He was rolling his sleeves up and balling his fists. Even in a dress outfit, he was a brute. James would be badly hurt were he to persist in defending Ceinwyn's honor. She knew she had to do something.

She stepped between them, putting her back to Connor.

"It's okay! Connor can walk me home, I don't mind," but she was mouthing unspoken words to James, "Please, it'll be okay." At his reluctant nod, she turned and offered a weak smile to Connor, lifting her arm for him to take. "Shall we, then?"

He took a look at her arm and then started off toward the door without taking it. She gave a final glance to James, and then followed Connor outside.

*^*^*^*^*^*^*


They walked silently along the lane, Ceinwyn hugging her wrap tightly around her even though the air was somewhat warm.

"So you like James, huh?" Connor's voice broke the silence. She glanced at him, surprised at the question.

"He's nice," was all she offered in response. She wasn't sure how she felt about James. He'd only just now started speaking to her, and they were all soon to go off into the world on their own.

"James doesn't like you. He is just being nice because the other fellows made a bet with him..." Connor stopped walking, and Ceinwyn looked at him, with a look between denial and belief.

"You're lying, they did not. Besides, he wouldn't do that," she argued. But privately, she was wondering if that was true, after all. James had never spoken to her before. What if they had payed him or bet him to dance with her? Connor saw the indecision on her face and took advantage of it to continue his agenda.

"I know you don't want to be with that weakling, anyway. He spends all of his time with his nose buried in his books. I know you'd rather be with a real man, like me."

He did take hold of her arm then, pulling her close as he moved them both off the road onto a dark shaded path that she knew led toward the Sheffield Grove. She attempted to pull her arm free, but in the years since she had beaten him he had grown into his own. He led her a ways along the path before turning to face her.

"You are a drow witch, Ceinwyn ab'Arawn. I can remember the first time I ever saw you, peering at me from the window of that ugly shack you call a home. You put some kind of spell on me, even then. You cursed me to always see your face, your strange eyes."

He was stroking her cheek with his free hand and she turned her face away from him, recoiling in disgust. This only caused him to grab her jaw and force her to look at him.

"Do you deny it?" He challenged, but he was holding her jaw so tightly she couldn't speak to argue. She gazed at him, her anger starting to become fear of what he might do. "You wore this dress for me, I know. You seek to seduce me. Now you will see what the price of toying with my emotions is."

His hand was traveling down her neck now, and it was obvious what he was about. She started to struggle against him, and he tightened his grip on her arm painful enough for her to cry out. A voice sounded to them from someone down the path.

"Ceinwyn ab'Arawn? Is that you? Is everything okay in there?" came James' concerned call.

Ceinwyn tried to cry out in response, but Connor clamped his large hand over her mouth, and began dragging her further into the grove. She struggled fiercely against him, but she was no match. The training he had been undergoing had given him muscles he had not possessed those years ago.

Finally, Connor held them both still and waited. They could hear James' footsteps on the path, crushing branches as he made his way closer to them. Ceinwyn began again to squirm in his grip and this alerted James to their location. She gave a loud muffled cry against Connor's hand.

"Connor! What are you doing to her?!" James was outraged at the sight of Connor being so rough with Ceinwyn. His sense of honor would not allow the behavior to continue, even if he did not have feelings for her. He stepped boldly forward and began to chant. But, Connor knew what he was up to, and he threw Ceinwyn to the ground roughly and swung his fist full into James' face, no doubt smashing the poor man's nose in. Whatever spell James had been casting was now lost as he collapsed to the ground. Ceinwyn cried out in terror as she realized that Connor wasn't through, yet. He was hefting a large rock into the air, obviously intent on smashing James' head in. Ceinwyn dived forward towards Connor's knees, intent on knocking him over. He leaned toward her though and brought his knee into her jaw. Lightning resounded through her head and she fell to the ground, disoriented. She barely raised herself up on her arms in time to see Connor bring the rock down onto poor James' head. Horrified at the murder she had just witnessed, she crawled backwards through the brush, attempting to put distance between herself and Connor.

He was breathing heavily, obviously overcome with the shock of what he had just done, and he turned toward her.

"Now you see! You see what you made me do?!"

He took a step toward her. She gazed up at him, her eyes wide with fear, remaining silent as he closed the distance. She knew it would be futile to try to escape, at that point, so she kept still, watching him nervously. He knelt down in front of her, and took her face gently in one hand.

"Look what you made me do."

Her gaze strayed past him to where James' body lay on the ground. Connor wiggled her jaw to capture her attention. She was breathing wildly from fear as she looked into his eyes. He spoke softly, soothingly.

"Look at you, your hair is a mess and your dress is ruined. Hardly a fitting manner for a lady. But, there is a way you can be rescued, yet," he caressed her cheek softly as he continued, "You could give yourself to a lord. A lord like I will be..."

He pushed his lips against hers and she shoved at him with what was left of her strength, but it was futile. Adrenaline from what he had done had only served to empower him. He took advantage of the energy rush, moving over her. One hand began to travel over her body as the other kept her held still beneath him. She closed her eyes and turned her head away as she felt the fabric of her wasted gown tear. She tried to focus on her secret wooded alcove, on Nana, on anything that would take her mind away, but it was useless. She could do nothing but lay there, enduring Connor's onslaught as he took away her innocence.

*^*^*^*^*^*^*


She didn't remember the walk home, she only knew relief when she managed to stumble over the threshold into the foyer. For once, she did not care about the noise she made returning home. She dropped her ruined and dirty wrap to the floor and threw back her head, calling for help.

The cook came rushing from the kitchen and her mother appeared at the top of the stairs.

"What is the meaning of this noise?" Shannon demanded as she descended the staircase.

Ceinwyn could only burst into tears as she tried to speak.

"A boy.. it was a boy.. he.. " she gasped between uncontrolled sobs.

Shannon waved the cook back to the kitchen.

"Go back to work, you aren't needed here." She turned toward Ceinwyn after the cook had gone and she fixed a cruel gaze on her. "You see what your wicked ways have brought you, now. Inviting men with your body, you are nothing more than a street woman."

Ceinwyn swallowed back her tears and tried to control her breathing enough to speak.

"He took me against my will! I was forced! I did not invite this!"

But Shannon only stood there, shaking her head piously. Ceinwyn knew that any more arguing would cause Shannon to beat her. This was how it always happened.

How it always happened.

When she was curious, she was beaten. When she was hurt, she was beaten. When she called her mother "mother", she was beaten. This was how it always would be, she realized. It would never change.

She found a phrase from a book she had read once repeating in her mind over and over.

"We must be our own instrument of change," she whispered softly.

"What did you say?" Shannon asked, angrily stepping toward her.

We must be our own instrument of change, the thought repeated. Shannon continued to advance, growing increasingly agitated at her lack of response. As she raised her hand to slap Ceinwyn for her disobedience, something within the girl snapped and she lunged at Shannon, locking her hands around the woman's throat, tightly.

We must be our own instrument of change.

She squeezed her mother's throat, tightly. She was staring directly at Shannon, but she was not seeing the surprise on the woman's face. No, she was seeing all the years that had gone by. The shed, the spiders, the abuse, all from the one person who should have been her world. Her mother. What a sick joke. She squeezed tighter still. She squeezed all the years of pain and torment into her mother's neck. When Shannon was quite thoroughly dead, Ceinwyn still continued to choke the woman.

Finally, rationality crept back into her mind and she released Shannon's neck. Her fingers ached from the exertion and she was beginning to realize just what she'd done. It hadn't taken necromancy to turn her into a monster, at all.

She ran out the front door into the night, seeking the shelter of her wooded refuge.

(to be continued...)
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PostPosted: Wed Dec 17, 2008 6:35 pm Post subject: Reply with quote

Chapter Eleven
A Second Chance


Andreas, of course, had seen it all. He'd seen her walking to the dance, he'd watched her dancing the night away on the arm of some unproven apprentice mage. True, he could have prevented what Connor had done to her. But what good would that have done, when he needed an apprentice? He had thought she was ready those years before, and he'd obviously been wrong. He hated being wrong. Not that he was never wrong, it just didn't happen much these days.

He hoped that Connor's actions would be enough to finally push her. How much longer would she have gone on, anyway? Enduring all that racism and brutality, she should have broken years ago.

So he followed her home after the incident in the woods. He had intended to surprise her dramatically by appearing in her room, but then he heard shouting from inside. The harpy was scolding her for being abused. And then, there was silence.

He stood in the darkness, deciding whether or not to go inside, when the front door opened and Ceinwyn, in her ruined gown, came bolting out, slamming it shut behind her. He could tell where she was heading from her direction. Looking back toward the house, curiosity drove him to investigate further.

He peered in through a side window. The girl's mother lay prone on the floor, almost as if asleep. Servants flitted about in an upset. The death of nobility foremost in their minds, and he could almost taste their fear.

So she has broken at last

He turned away from the window and headed toward the jungle, to find her.

OOOOOOOOOOO


Recklessly, she ran through the woods of the Sheffield Estate, desperate to find security in the isolation of her secret clearing. Tears blurred her vision and the trees seemed to fly past her, their leaves slapping at her face as she didn't bother to push them aside in her haste. She hardly noticed the sting of branches in her state of shock. The events of the night just kept replaying themselves in her mind.

She crashed into the clearing and headed toward a large oak tree. The trunk was huge, and the tree was out of place in the jungle. She often sat at its base to think or write. Tonight, she huddled against it, her arms locked around her knees as she watched the events unfold over and over again in her mind.

If only she had just stayed home, none of this would have ever happened. James, poor James, lay dead with his head smashed in on the other end of the estate. Her mother's body lay stiffening on the hardwood floor of the foyer. The dawning of realization came over her. She could never go back. She was a wanted criminal now, a murderess. Her thoughts went to James. He would never see Moonglow or study with the mages. His family would mourn him, greatly. All because he'd been nice to her. She caught herself almost accepting the blame, but it was not her fault. It had been Connor who'd killed James and who'd done that dreadful thing to her. It was his fault.

"Yes, but you know they will blame you for both murders."

Ceinwyn jumped up, startled. Her night vision made him out on the other side of the small clearing, leaning casually against a tree. There was no mistaking him, he looked exactly the same as he had years before. She stood, chest heaving, ready to run should he call the guards. She watched him warily, as he stepped away from the tree toward her.

"Once they find your mother's body, Connor will be sure to announce that he witnessed you killing the Greyson boy. No one will doubt Sir Langston's squire, the word of a paladin in training. It is so easy to believe that this is the doing of a despicable drow." He took a seat on a large rock, considering her.

Ceinwyn stood, processing his words. He was right. Connor would blame her, he always did. It had been what he had punctuated each of his beatings with, her fault for being different. Like tonight, it'd been her fault that he'd taken her by force. According to him, she was tormenting him. The town would be quick and eager to accept his explanation. All these years, they had only been waiting for a reason to rid themselves of her, the unwanted reminder of an enemy. It was supposed to be the city of Honor. What honor was there in how they'd all treated her?

"They are hypocrites, all of them. It is Shame that has fallen upon this city of paladins, not Honor. The rest of the world is more accepting."

Ceinwyn sank to her knees, torn between grief and anger at the helplessness of it all. She had no where to go, no life. Wherever she went, she would be wanted for murder. It just wasn't fair. Where was the justice of it all?

"You have to make your own Justice in this world. You will find that most of the time, the just aren't just and the fair are not fair at all."

She lifted her gaze to him.

"You offered me the chance to become a necromancer once."

"The offer is still open, should you have changed your mind," he replied casually, as if it didn't matter to him one way or the other.

She seemed to be in deep consideration, and Andreas inwardly smiled. She would only need a small amount of encouragement, in her emotional state.

"Life isn't fair. Too often are the weak and the different made victims. But it is only the weak who cannot fight back. The different can seek Justice, the different can become strong and invoke Justice for themselves. It is up to you to decide which one you are, are you different, or just weak?"

Ceinwyn's anger grew at hearing this harsh truth. She'd known it all her life, but had tried so hard to ignore it. Life wasn't fair. If it was, there'd be no racism, no persecution. Her hands balled into fists at her sides. There was one thing she knew, she wasn't weak. She hadn't studied hard and practiced swordplay for nothing. She had managed this long well enough, despite adversity.

"I'm not weak," she responded, standing, fists still clenched at her sides.

"Do you want to bring all the Connors of Trinsic Justice? Do you want the power to make it so they can never do to another what they have done to you?"

His words inspired her anger at the situation to grow. She stared at him across the darkened grove with determination.

"Give me the power to teach them all a lesson."

(to be continued...)
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PostPosted: Sat Feb 07, 2009 7:09 pm Post subject: Reply with quote

Chapter Twelve
They Say You Can Never Go Back


Ceinwyn crept back to her house under the cover of night. So many hours later, the lights were turned down and the house was dark. She entered through the back door, whispering silent prayers that she wouldn't awaken the servants. Having lived there all of her life she knew which boards of the floor were the noisiest, and she tried to avoid most of them. Unfortunately, each of the top five steps along the stairway were old and creaking and she walked as gently as she could to the landing, hoping none would stir. She was holding her breath nervously as she turned the corner to go to her room. Fear kept her tense, like a twig waiting to snap, but at least she slipped inside her bedroom and closed the door softly behind her with a great sigh of relief.

She began immediately to gather clothes from her wardrobe and stuff them into a pack. She had no time to gaze sentimentally at the trinkets she'd gathered through the years that stood, arranged, along her desk. She sighed regretfully that she was forced to leave home in this manner, instead of in the normal fashion of growing up and moving out.

Moving to her jewelry box, she opened it, careful to cover the winding key with her fingers, lest it begin its song and alert the servants. There was one item of sentimental value that she would allow herself. A silver necklace that Nana had given to her for Christmastide, many years back. The chain was nothing special, being the usual silver links looping to circle the wearer's neck. It was the pendant that Ceinwyn cherished above all. A glittering silver snowflake, covered in crushed diamond bits. It was beautiful and special to her, the only gift she'd ever received, made twice as dear because it was from Nana, the only true friend she'd ever had in this world. She quickly affixed it about her neck, she would reminisce later when she had time.

A noise behind her caused her to turn in surprise. Cook was standing in the doorway, watching her. Ceinwyn stepped backward in fear, she'd been caught.

"Now now.. Shhh. I know ye didna mean it, Love. I know t'were an accident. Just be quiet, I wanna show ye somethin' so's ye understand better. Follow me, if ye please..."

Cook beckoned for her to follow, and Ceinwyn did, trusting this woman who'd taught her so much and been there for her all those years. She was led down the hall toward Shannon's quarters. Curiosity grew within her as she wondered what Cook could possibly wish to show her. When they reached the solid oak door and opened it to go inside, Ceinwyn startled at the sight that greeted her. Her mother lay in bed, in her bed clothes, blanket drawn over her.

"Is she.. asleep?" Ceinwyn whispered to the cook. Was it possible that she'd not murdered her, after all? Was there hope for her, still?

"Nay, I'm afraid na'," came Cook's response, shattering the small hope Ceinwyn held. "We found her, lyin' in tha hall, like ye left 'er, and we brought 'er up here." She looked at Ceinwyn, now, a mix of compassion and pity in her eyes.

"But, why did you? Why would you? Did you call the guards?" Ceinwyn was confused, her mind slowly beginning to grasp the reality of what they'd done.

"Nay, Love. We didna call the guards, yet. We plan ta in the mornin'. We put 'er like this for ye, so ye wouldna take the blame. It looks more natural-like for 'er ta go in 'er sleep. She was a black-hearted one, Love, she deserved what she got, an' there's not a one o' us that'll point a finger o' blame at ye, bless yer poor heart. Ye dinna have ta pack yer things and go fleein' in the night, ye still have a home 'ere with us."

Ceinwyn felt the tears that had been welling up in her eyes spill down her cheeks. She fell into the hug that Cook offered her with shaking sobs. The old woman patted and smoothed her shoulder, comfortingly. After what seemed like long moments, Ceinwyn took a deep breath and tried to collect herself. She pulled back from Cook and stood, uncertain what to do next, still somewhat in a state of shock at all the events of the evening. Cook placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"Why don' ye go change from tha' poor ruined dress. I know ye worked hard on it, but it's beyond repair, now. We'll get a bath drawn fer ye, ta help ye relax," she slipped from the room to wake the other servants.

@}-,--'--||--'--,-{@


The morning sun shined through the window to spill across her face, awakening her. She stretched hard, yawning wide, before sinking back into the fluffy pillows of her bed. She considered going back to sleep, but in a rush the memory of the night before reared its ugly head, and she could not force herself to believe that it had all been just a horrid dream. With a deep sigh of trepidation, she struggled to sit upright and swing her legs over the side of the bed.

Downstairs, the household was carrying on the same way they always did, as if nothing at all had occurred out of the ordinary. She made her way to the dining room for breakfast, reluctantly admitting to herself that even murderers had to eat. She took her usual seat at the table just as Cook entered.

"We're waitin' til ye've eaten ta' fetch tha guards, yer Ladyship," the cook winked and curtsied once, with a slight smile. "What will ye be wantin' fer brekkie?"

Almost at a loss for words at the cook's behavior, she managed to ask for some fried eggs and toast. As the cook wandered back to the kitchen to order the meal up, Ceinwyn reflected on the situation. Ladyship? She supposed it was true, now that her mother was dead. The news did not comfort her, though, she was still a murderer. She could still feel the soft flesh of her mother's delicate neck against her hands. She shook the idea away and tried to concentrate on breakfast. One thing at a time, she told herself.

@}-,--'--||--'--,-{@


The guards bought the story, hook, line, and sinker. Ceinwyn marveled at how easy it was to disguise a murder. There was only one moment when she thought they would see through her fear; when they asked if she'd seen the Greyson boy since last night, he'd gone missing. She just gave a sad shake of her head, affecting grief, and they were so eager to be away from the place and back to their card games at the guard tower that they accepted it, readily. City of Honor, indeed.

@}-,--'--||--'--,-{@


It only took a day for the letter to arrive. Ceinwyn gazed at the seal stamped into the wax of the letter. It was an image of two dragons encircling each other other, one in red wax and one in blue. She had seen it before, on Shannon's stationary, but never touched it herself. She ran her fingers over the delicate seal, before realizing that it was addressed to herself. No one had ever sent her a letter before, and this one was from her own family. She quickly broke the wax seal and began to read the contents of the letter.



(to be continued...)
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PostPosted: Tue Jun 16, 2009 12:23 pm Post subject: Reply with quote

Chapter Thirteen
A New Start



She stood with her bags, better packed than the day before. Her escort, a man from her grandfather's estate, stood waiting beside a pair of horses. His livery bore the emblem of House Arawn, the circling red and blue dragons. She wondered briefly at the story behind the family seal, and what relation dragons had with her kin. The fellow was now hefting her bags into a wagon, obviously eager to be off. He assisted her into the seat behind the driver's perch and climbed up. As he took up the reins and set the wagon into motion, Ceinwyn's gaze remained locked on her childhood home.

The stone walls of the manor had been her prison for so long before she'd learned the secret paths of the Sheffield Estate. Though so many sad and miserable memories would be left behind, the staff waving goodbye to her stood testament that she was also leaving behind the only friends she'd ever had. She called an emotional "goodbye" to Cook, before finally turning her back on the Maple Road estate. As she dabbed at her eyes with a kerchief, she resolved to embrace the change that was taking place in her life. There were family members she had never even heard of, and she would be living with them from now on. She hoped that their mannerisms would not bear too strong a resemblance to her mother, or the people of the city. More than anything, she hoped they would not hate her for what she was.

@~~~~~~~~@


The journey was long but unremarkable. Though the woods were beautiful in the early summer light of the day and the path sun-dappled, her thoughts kept traveling back to Andreas Kincade. She had accepted his offer, in a moment of desperation. Would he be furious at her absence? Would he come seeking her out yet again, as he had done before? She didn't allow herself to wonder at his methods. The man knew an incredible amount about her, and yet she'd never spoken of herself to him. She found herself unable to decide whether she was relieved that now she wouldn't have to make good on her acceptance of his offer, and that thought unnerved her to no end as the cart trundled along toward her new home.

@~~~~~~~~@


They had traveled for hours, luckily without incident. No hungry wolves or, Virtues forbid, worse creatures attacking them as they made their way westward across the continent. Just as she was wondering for the millionth time exactly how far away her new home was, the cart rounded a bend in the road and turned down a worn, but well-kept drive. Oak trees lined the path, which ended in a large circular drive before a stately manor house. As the cart slowed to a halt, servants began to make their way out to greet them. Among them came a young girl nearly her own age, with red-tinged brown hair. Her face was lightly freckled, and her eyes a welcoming bright blue. She offered up a friendly smile as one of the footmen assisted Ceinwyn's descent from the wagon.

Ceinwyn dropped into a neat curtsy, as she'd always been instructed to do. The girl likewise did the same. But before Ceinwyn could further display proper manners, the girl was offering a hand and introducing herself.

"Hello, my name's Ceridwyn, what's yours?"

"I.. I'm Ceinwyn ab'Arawn, " she managed. She'd never heard a name so similar to her own. She gazed at the girl and knew a moment of odd discomfort, but she was unable to discern why.

"Come on! I'll show you to your room," she smiled, offering a hand to Ceinwyn. Ceinwyn, marveling at such a warm welcome, allowed the girl to take her hand and found herself eager to befriend her. The girl was chatting as they walked along the halls.

"We're cousins, you know. My mother was your mother's sister," she spoke it wistfully, and Ceinwyn was left curious.

"Was?" she queried.

"My mother was taken by an illness seven years ago. My father raised me for a while, but when I was old enough, he left me in the care of our servants and went abroad to study other cultures. I do miss her. She had the loveliest smile."

Ceinwyn could only nod in consideration as her younger cousin led her to her room, pointing out various rooms and hallways as they walked. She described each of the servants to her and seemed genuinely happy to have someone close to her age to spend time with. At last, they came to Ceinwyn's room.

"Well, here we are. Dinner is in two hours, so I'll let you get settled in and unpacked. Then I'll come and take you back down to the dining room," she smiled again, "I'm so happy you came to stay with us." And then she was gone.

Ceinwyn gazed about the room, taking in the elegant furniture and wallpaper. The bed was by far the grandest thing she'd ever seen. It took a stool to get onto, it was so high above the floor. The wardrobe was so large that her modest collection of clothing only filled it out half-way. There was a vanity with a large mirror, much like her bedroom back in Trinsic. As she unpacked her things, she decided that she would try her best to fit in with this household and befriend her cousin. There were so many questions she had about the rest of their family, and she was sure Ceridwyn would be a willing fount of information.

(to be continued...)
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PostPosted: Wed Oct 12, 2011 3:11 pm Post subject: Reply with quote

Chapter Fourteen
Truth Revealed



Ceridwyn sat with her legs criss-crossed and held tilted back, enjoying the sound of the wind between the trees and delighting in the way that it pulled her hair wildly around her. Sunlight filtered down through the leaves of the tree canopy above her. She thought she could feel all of the energy of the earth about her. She found it a most pleasant and comforting sensation. So comforting that she leaned back until she was lying on the forest floor. She stifled a yawn, suddenly drowsy.

How pleasant it would be to nap right here, she thought, with the warm wind as a blanket and leaves for a bed...


@}@}@}@}{@{@{@{@


"My sweet child, it is good to see you again."

Ceridwyn sat up quickly at the sound of her mother's voice. Around her, night had fallen. Had she truly been asleep for so long?

"Mother?"

"Aye. I told you I would only be able to visit you once in a while. This is one of those rare moments, for I have something important to tell you," Fallon said, her words, as always, soft and gentle.

"Are we in danger, have you come to warn us?"

"No, sweet child. You are safe. I have come to tell you about your sister."

"My sister?"

"Ceinwyn," Fallon paused to let her younger daughter absorb the words.

"Ceinwyn is my sister?" Ceridwyn began to get a little excited. She'd been happy to have a cousin, but having a sister was even better, was it not?

"Yes, dear one. Your grandfather did not allow me to keep her. She was sent to live with my sister, your aunt Shannon."

"I can't wait to tell her that we are sisters!" She jumped up from her seat.

"You must not tell her," Fallon cautioned.

"But, why not? She deserves to know.. and besides, won't she receive the Dream? That would tell her everything." Ceridwyn was confused.

The Dream was something the women of her mother's line always received during their year of adulthood. A vision of their matronly ancestry, the tasks that they had each been given, and ultimately, a choice. Ceridwyn had already received hers, the spirit of her mother having since visited on a few important occasions. Surely, Ceinwyn being older, had probably already had the Dream.

"She can not receive the Dream. There is one who has placed a hold on her soul. If only things had been different, but they are not. I fear there is nothing we can do for her, my love. Nothing but to wait."

"So I can't even tell her that we're sisters? It isn't fair, mother. In what way is that the Justice you say we druids hold to?"

"I can not answer that, my dear. I can only tell you that it must be so. One cannot just tell your sister the truth, she is the kind that needs to learn it on her own."

"I will not tell her, mother," Ceridwyn lowered her head. In her heart it felt wrong, but she would do as instructed and hold tight to her faith. Somehow, it would work itself out, it had to.

As the vision of her mother began to fade, final words lingered in the air between them.

"Enjoy your time with her while it lasts, my child, for I fear the days of her darkness are soon coming."


(to be continued...)
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