Monday, August 15, 2016

Divided: Part 1

Since I had several people tell me I should continue developing the story from my last post, I decided to do just that and this is the first part of the continuation of that story. Let me know what you think in the comments!


A soft chanting came from deep within the monastery, echoing off the bare stone walls. They stood in a circle around the flames, their hands joined together as they sought the wisdom of their god. Carefully arranged in a circle around the flames were laid six thin sheets of stone painstakingly carved with ancient runes that only the monks of the monastery could read. The words glowed scarlet in the dancing firelight, seeming to take on a life of their own.

This was the prophecy. Thousands of years ago their god had spoken to the head of their order, giving him the prophecy that was to change the order of the world. Since that time, the prophecy had been fiercely guarded by the monks, the exact words known only to their inner circle. But now the time was coming for it to be set into motion. If ever there had been a time when the world needed to change, it was then for the world was terribly divided. The rich lived in towns of extreme grandeur, feasting on the best food, dressing in the most elegant clothing, living in opulent mansions, all of them commanding a bevy of slaves and servants from the poor class. The poor lived in towns set far apart from those of the rich, forced to survive and try to scrape out a living in the frigid mountains, arid desert or rugged plains, the best land, of course, in the possession of the rich. There was no equality; the rich ruled and the poor served. They had no rights, no ownership, nothing. Everything they had could be stripped from them at a moments notice.

And though the rich depended on the poor to till their fields, raise their livestock, cook their meals, sew their clothes, and serve them in every way, they refused to lift even a finger to help them regardless of how dire their circumstances. Entire towns of the poor were regularly wiped out by disease, wild animals, bandits, and natural disasters without the rich ever noticing. They were safe behind the high walls and gates that protected them.

And so as the division between the two classes continued to grow, the monks prayed over and over again for the events of the prophecy to be set into motion. Surely it was time. Their chanting grew louder as they poured out their hearts and souls, the sound traveling through the dark halls out into the frigid mountain air carrying a message of hope and change.

~~*~~

The soft thud of metal biting into wood filled the quiet little clearing deep in the forest. There was a short pause and then the sound began again. There was a flash of light as the sun glinted off the ornate knife flying through the air. Thunk. The knife quivered slightly, it's point buried deep in the trunk of the giant oak. It was still moving when a second and then a third knife joined it, one on either side.

Out of the shadows on the other side of the clearing emerged a young woman. With light, quick steps she made her way over to the tree where she stood for a moment examining the knives. They were perfectly lined up with less than a quarter of an inch separating them from each other. Despite the clear skill on display before her, the young woman gave no indication of either pride or disappointment. Retrieving her knives, she retreated to the shadows just over a hundred feet from the tree and repeated the feat.

Again and again she threw her knives with deadly accuracy, the blades biting in the wood with ease. It was only as the light began to fade that she finally stopped. Carefully tucking her precious knives into the leather satchel she always carried, she left the clearing and began to pick her way through the woods. She moved with surety, clearly completely at ease with her surroundings.

As the trees began to thin, she caught a glimpse of the golden gleam of firelight flickering up ahead. Welcoming voices filled the air as she stepped out of the dark forest into the tiny village. Gaunt children circled around her, begging her for stories about the dangerous forest they were forbidden to enter. Their mothers quickly descended upon them, sweeping them away so the young woman could approach the giant fire that burned at the heart of the village. She stopped just outside the glow of the firelight, bowing her head in respect to the figure that sat across the dancing flames.

"Auraylea [Aah-ray-lee-uh], you have returned."

The voice, like a bronze bell, seemed to resonate through her whole being. Her weariness seemed to fall away, the love and wisdom in the voice setting her completely at ease as it always did. She bowed lower, her hair falling forward to obscure her face.

"Yes, sir. I bring what food I could find."

"Bring it here, child."

Obediently she opened her satchel and, walking around the flames, she laid her spoils before the giant man seated before her. He eyed the four large rabbits before him along with the small pile of mushrooms and other vegetation for a few moments. His face suddenly broke into a smile, his teeth gleaming white against his dark skin.

He placed one large hand on the bowed head of the young woman before him. "You have done well, Lea," he praised her, using the shortened version of her name the nearly everyone called her by.

She looked up at him, relief flooding her tired face. A tinge of sadness touched his eyes as he looked down at the young woman before him. So young and yet already forced to shoulder so much responsibility.

"Thank you, Lea," he said softly. "Because of you the children will eat tonight, we all will. Go, bring your catch to Muireen, she'll work her magic on it so we can feast. Today has been a good day for us, praise the gods."

Bowing once more, the young woman carefully placed everything back in her satchel and hurried towards the cooking tent. The man watched her go. He sighed as he ran one hand over the bald dome of his head. The village buzzed with activity all around him, but he sat alone with his thoughts consumed by the never ending question of how they were going to survive.

Over the drone of voices and other sounds, he gradually became aware of another sound, too soft to fully hear or understand, but he felt a sudden surge of hope for his people, for the land they lived in. Change was coming.

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