Lady Vera of Beit-Orane (v_eritas) wrote in adusta, @ 2009-04-25 15:00:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | the fifth child, vera of beit-orane |
Blood Ribbon [ narrative ]
She had only gone barefoot because the stairs were slick from the rain. The stone felt easier to navigate when she could feel it beneath her toes; Vera liked to think she was the only expert of these stairs. Half inside and half exposed to the elements of the mountain, the tower they led to had remained unfinished for months. Servants of the household said the High Lord insulted the dwarf craftsman who came to make the addition onto the manor. Their tongues, though they flapped regularly, were rarely wrong. So Vera knew these steps would eventually lead to a new library, or a training hall, or a solar. Still, she liked to pretend that at the top, in the midst of the elements, was the Unseen Tower. Her tower. There she had property and an invisible army better than any that anyone could compete for in the Red House. Better than her siblings could dream of.
Vera smiled as she scrambled along the curve of the stair and around the corner which kept her out of sight from the rest of the hall. The wind of the outdoors was strong, it pulled at the edges of her hair. Dark clouds gathered around Eistocene. From the stair she could see them rolling in off the Acierran Plains like a massive dragon, spreading its wings and roaring with ferocious jowls opened wide. Her small fingers grasped the edges of her cloak as she pressed against the rock wall, slowly moving along until she was at the edge of the steps where there was a small, flat platform with ornate carvings along the borders. For the most part, the carvings were just squares and diamonds arranged in odd ways. Vera spent enough time here, however, that she knew where to look for the small bears and spears scattered within the shapes. She sketched the uniforms of her men based off these carvings, drew the spears and swords that they'd carry into battle, the gleaming helmets and shields that would catch the sun. Vera slid to the edge of the platform, dangling her feet over the edge and looking down at the rocks below. The weather here was sharp and unforgiving to everyone but her.
She pulled the cloak tight over her shoulders. The dragon was almost upon Eistocene, but it knew in its deep, black heart, that any breath of violence would be answered with the wrath living in every crevice of the city. The great swords of Beit-Orane rested here. Archers that would send teeth to the heavens were ever watchful. Armas had no tolerance for cowards, her father said, and the armies of the Free Cities were blessed by the god. But if that should not be enough, Vera's army with their shining spears and proud soldiers would come to the aid of Eistocene. Being unknown and unseen, the dragon would never expect such a skilled force to appear.
So let it try, Vera thought. She wouldn't be afraid.
Rain began to spit again, hitting her head with an occasional, harsh thwip. Combined with the way her hair whipped in the wind, there was a quick rhythm building. Too quick for snow. The priests promised snow to her the last time she was in the temple. It was the season for it, but even the farmers knew that. She wondered what would happen if she told them that farmers knew more of the weather. The last time she spoke her mind to a priest of the Red House, her ear had been boxed for the offense. Vera rubbed her left ear, the memory of the blood still strong. A child of Beit-Orane was never left to bleed for long but that didn't mean the pain was any less memorable. Vera scrunched up her nose. Even she'd known that the blue clouds from the plains were rain. This particular weather creature was not soft enough for snow.
"What are you doing up here?"
Vera turned quickly. Her hair and the red, silk ribbon she'd tied there moved in the wind, so she couldn't immediately see the girl's face. She didn't need to though. The nasal, chipped voice could only belong to her sister Uta. She'd slithered up here like a snake, probably, since there hadn't been any sound on the stair. She hated the way Uta walked. She hated how nosy her older sister was. Vera balled her hands into fists in her lap and tried to be calm.
"Sitting," Vera said. She batted her hair from her face. "What do you care?"
Uta narrowed her eyes a moment, looking from her eyes to where her legs dangled over the sharp rock edge. "Being outside is dangerous for little girls. Especially ones with no shoes."
"I'm not little!" Vera snapped. "And you don't belong up here."
"Neither do you."
Uta wandered farther onto the platform and Vera clutched at her cloak until her knuckles were white. This was her spot. She'd discovered it and until that dwarf came back to finish whatever it was he started, it should be hers. Something should be hers. Every step Uta made on the platform made her angrier and angrier. She clenched her jaw.
"This is nice," Uta said.
"Go away."
Her sister laughed. The sound echoed against the stone of the mountain and down into the rocks below. Vera thought it was an awful...ugly sound. Becoming of stupid, ugly Uta.
"I was here first."
"You're nowhere first," Uta was quick to reply.
Vera turned away. Ignoring Uta was best for now. The last time Vera kicked her it hadn't ended well. She looked at the clouds again and found they were directly over the Red House. Maybe the dragon would swoop down suddenly and snatch Uta up in its claws. Maybe that was the only reason the shadow of its wings fell over Eistocene -- it didn't want a war, but a snack. Uta was the perfect size for a snack. Or perhaps the dragon was annoyed because it had heard Uta's voice from so far away and it came to rid the world of that noise. If Uta was lucky, the dragon might strike her down with lightning. Vera heard of a story about a dragon who destroyed a city with lightning. It would be a fun thing, to watch her sister get struck with lightning. Uta could slither back down the steps of Vera's tower in parts. Or maybe she'd just get crispy and beg Vera to save her with her great army.
Her sister, normally one to batter another down with words for fun, was unusually silent and not because the dragon took her. Vera tapped her fingers along the smooth edge of the platform, too proud to turn suddenly and keep an eye on Uta and too nervous to sit with her shoulders relaxed. That nothing happened right away pulled Vera further and further into her uncertainty. Would Uta really just enjoy the view? Would she leave Vera to her platform, bored with what it had to offer? Or was there something more sinist--
"Ow!"
The exclamation was instant. Vera clutched at her head and gritted her teeth. A fist full of red ribbon and a few strands of her hair were held in her face as Uta laughed. Vera had been wearing that ribbon for a whole week. The silk ribbon was a present. Her hand snapped out to grab it from Uta's fist, but her older sister was faster. Vera scooted back and turned so she could face her. Uta dangled the ribbon from her pointer finger and thumb, as if it were an insect.
"I can't believe he only brought you this," she said. "Faxril got a sword."
Vera was on her feet in an instant. "Give it back!"
"What are you so upset about? It's a scrap of silk. Look, it's already starting to fray."
Uta wiggled the ribbon in the wind and Vera felt her temper snap. She'd been punished by Rahmil the last time her anger got the better of her. She still had the bruises. But her loathing for her sister far outweighed her last lesson. Her father had been visiting with the Beiten-K'danav for two weeks in Trone. Vera hadn't expected him to bring her a present, much less speak with her, when he returned. But he did. He'd come to her room. He'd given her the ribbon. It wasn't a sword, it wasn't a good horse. But to Vera it was beautiful. Uta was holding that same ribbon out to the wind as if it were hers to throw away. But it wasn't and Vera wanted it back.
There was only one way to get something, her mother said once. Only one way.
The translation and transition to what happened next was a blur. Vera kicked her older sister in the shin and grabbed her arm, digging in the best she could with her nails before biting her. Uta screeched and tried to yank herself away, making it difficult for Vera to reach for the red ribbon still clutched in her older sister's hand. She kept her grip for only a few moments before Uta shoved Vera back. She landed a few inches from the edge of the platform.
"I can't believe you bit me," Uta snapped, inspecting the broken skin on her arm. "You little animal."
"Give it--"
"No."
The wind tore by them, making her sister back away a few steps. There was a superior smirk on Uta’s face as Vera clutched at the smooth stone beneath her, afraid for the briefest moment she’d be pushed over the edge and to the rocks below.
“You know, the winds steal children all of the time. They take them across the world so they’ll be alone without anyone they love, forever.” Uta stepped away from the wall. “The wind does this because it’s jealous. The wind never stays still enough to feel love.”
The wind could steal her? As she was pressed against the stone by another gust, she wondered if it was true. Her fingers felt frozen and stiff from being pressed against the ground. She shivered beneath her cloak, but couldn’t say if it was the cold or the fear of finding her death by a jealous wind. Only the waving strand of red kept her focus. Her father had given that ribbon to her. Vera glared at Uta, opening her mouth again to tell her to return it, but her sister laughed before she could.
“You’re so single minded. I said no. I don’t think you deserve to have it back. But maybe, the wind should have something to tie up its hair.”
Forgetting the strength of the gusts and the idea that wind might steal her, Vera got to her feet in one sloppy motion and threw herself at her sister. “No! Don’t do it, Uta, don’t you do it!”
Too late, she thought just as she crashed into her sister. She swung blindly with her small fists. The ribbon came loose from Uta's fingers and slid upward against the wall, then outward on the power of that greedy wind. Vera tore herself away from Uta to follow the ribbon as it dropped suddenly and floated in toward the curve of the steps. Careless of the slick stone, Vera ran down the steps as the ribbon twirled playfully inward, only to lift up again on the next breeze.
To get something, her mother said, the only way was to focus.
Vera's eyes were for the ribbon as another incoming wind howled against the rock of the surrounding mountains. She leaped up on the stair as the ribbon dropped again, her fingers closing hard on the silk in a brief moment of glory. Brief because as relief came back into Vera's heart, her small feet slid against the slate of the steps upon landing and she pitched forward. Uta shouted as Vera tumbled forward, her knee striking the stone hard before she rolled down the steps. Flashes of the sky and the dragon were interspersed with searing pain and wet, wet red.
At the bottom of the staircase, Vera's body landed in a tangle. Something in her chest crunched, but she couldn't feel what. She couldn't move anything, not right away. It didn't seem like anything to worry for. She stared forward at the hand that had hit the stone floor just in front of her head. In between her fingers was the ribbon, wrapped tightly against her palm. She'd caught it. She hadn't let go. She was smiling when she heard the sound of feet, distant shouting. There was a persistent white noise filling her ears. Everything slowly started going dim. Movement was all around her until even the floor was moving.
She'd caught the ribbon. She escaped the wind. Uta's voice was still there, somewhere. Crying. Vera couldn't see, so she didn't know why but maybe the dragon got her. The world was too dark.
Everything is going to be okay.
The sweet, familiar voice was the last thing in her mind. She believed it, as if it were her own voice. Her own thought. But later in life when Vera had many worse injuries, she would know the truth. Whenever a sweet, familiar voice assured her this, pain would always follow.