Tag: Fiction

03. Cassandra

On By MaryIn 2023, WritingLeave a comment

I stayed busy over the next week. In the mornings, I had Lyre teach me a little of the language before he cast the spell. He called the human language Blest. It was a simple language, and easy to pick up. The elven language was harder for me, sounding more musical and lilting, with vowel sounds I wasn’t used to making. Lyre was a patient teacher, but I suspected I wouldn’t have more than a passing command of a few words, though he seemed to think that would be enough. He admitted that beyond spellcasting, it was not a commonly spoken language.

I was even teaching him some English in return. He had tentatively asked halfway through the week before I went to sleep. “I’ve never heard it before. It could be useful to know,” he had said after making his request, sitting in the formal position he often used. He kept his eyes averted, and didn’t seem to be holding out a lot of hope that I would agree.

Useful? Not likely, I thought to myself, but said, “I would be glad to teach you. It’s called English.” I almost carelessly elaborated that it was dialectically American English before catching myself.

He smiled. After a few moments, he hesitantly ventured another question. “Do you remember anything at all of what your home is like?” It was the first time Lyre had asked me about myself. I shook my head, unsure of how to answer since I supposedly had amnesia. I tried to remember which way people averted their eyes when they lied so I could look in the exact opposite direction and ended up rolling my head to look around the entirety of the cabin like I hadn’t become intimately familiar with the small space already. I wondered how much people with amnesia could retain, wondered if there was some small detail I could safely say, and settled on an awkward silence. “I see,” Lyre said after a few moments, and didn’t press further.

By the end of the week, I realized that even after the spell was cast, if I concentrated hard enough, I could distinguish just enough of a differentiation that I could command the light to turn on or off. It was a small accomplishment, but it was something. And when the spell wasn’t cast, it was a lot easier to do.

I also started to learn to read Blest. At first, I lingered when I was getting food in Wrasker’s cabin to study the papers and map on his desk. He spotted me once when he was there and frowned at me, like maybe I was spying on him. “Is it a very hard alphabet to learn?” I finally asked, gesturing to the flowing script.

“Ah,” he said, the frown dissipating as he realized I couldn’t read his papers, “Not really.” He brushed his fingertips over the papers thoughtfully, then walked back toward the bed built into the far corner. He pulled something out from under the mattress and brought it back to me – a slim book with a red cover. “It’s fiction, a fairly simple read. Lyre could teach you the letters. He should probably teach you how to speak our language as well. It’d be wise since you’re in our lands now.”

“That’s a good idea,” I said, deciding to omit that we had already begun language lessons. I took the book from his large, rough hands. “Thank you, Captain.”

Though later when I presented it to Lyre, he turned a very bright shade of pink. “Did the Captain give that to you?” he asked, aghast. I assumed he had seen the captain read it before and nodded. “I see.” He didn’t elaborate on his reaction, but he did proceed to give a brief lesson on their alphabet and we started on the book, though it was quite slow going because I also had to expand my vocabulary. It seemed to be a cheesy romance of some sort.

I also picked up things around the ship quickly. I was hoping to truly earn the coin that the Captain intended to give me when he set me on my way. Mostly I helped with cleaning, swabbing the deck, washing bed pans and clothing, but I also learned how to tie a couple of basic knots and took a few turns in the crow’s nest.

I realized quickly that the slaves (as hard as it was for me to think of them that way) were used solely for spellcasting duties. They could summon fresh water to use for drinking, and the Captain used them to send messages from a specially enchanted mirror he had in his cabin, though the range on it wasn’t significant. From what I understood, the magic they expended filling the sails with air was quite exhausting, especially when they were required to cast it for hours at a time to keep the schedule that Wrasker demanded.

With Lyre attending to my needs, they were each doing longer shifts as well, and Wrasker was concerned that it was causing a delay. Still, he did mention that we had moved out of the Calm Strait, which the sailors called the cursed sea, and where they had found me. It was an area of ocean that strangely held no air or water currents, and as a result, pirates rarely lingered there. They didn’t need to keep using the slaves to keep the ship moving at that point, but Wrasker took great pride in the speed it gave his business.

The second mate, a thin and balding man with deeply tanned skin named Fielder, was often the one teaching me what to do around the ship and how to do it. But once it was clear I had caught on, he left me to my own company. The crew was polite but distant – perhaps the Captain had warned them against becoming too friendly with me. Maybe they were suspicious of the fact that I had literally fallen out of the sky in a beam of light, or superstitious that it had occurred in the cursed sea. And like Lyre, the other elves stayed at the edges of everything, their eyes averted, refusing to acknowledge anyone unless a demand was made of them or they were actively casting. As I result, I made no close friends and kept mostly to myself – with Lyre as an ever-present and silent shadow.

Near the end of that first week, I expressed a curiosity about the cannons, and Lyre was taking me below deck to let me examine them. It had finally occurred to me that a cannon meant gunpowder, and I was curious about how easy it would be to hide some away, although I didn’t know what I would even use it for. As we entered the storage area where they were kept, I heard a gasp and the low angry murmur of a man’s voice, and looked up to see that a black-haired man had a woman shoved up against the wall, was pressed close against her. He slammed her head against the ship in a loud thump that elicited a pained whimper, and then began pushing her tanned robes up. Briefly, our eyes met – tears were streaming down her face, her blue eyes wide.

I don’t even remember fully what happened. My mind flooded with anger as I realized what I was seeing, and a strange series of electrical flashes seemed to erupt around the periphery of my vision. A powerful breeze swelled and swept through the room, causing my hair to fly up around my face, and there was an ominous rumble and the faint smell of ozone. There was a loud noise and the man cried out in shock, and I could hear the clattering sound of him falling into a nearby barrel and knocking it over, then a string of angry curses and shouting.

(Oh?)

Before I could fully comprehend what had happened, Lyre had grabbed me by the shoulders and steered me back out of the room and up the stairs. He walked me straight to my quarters. He pushed me into the room, then closed the door behind me. I stared at the door in shock, wondering what I was supposed to do. Lyre had never once so forcefully placed his hands on me.

I tried to think of what the weird flashes of light had been, tried to recall exactly what had knocked the man into the barrel. Whatever had happened had caused Lyre to panic. I felt the nervous crawling sensation of insects skittering across my heart, and I sat on my bed and kept my hand close to where the knife was hidden, in case I needed to grab it. I closed my eyes and took three deep breaths, and focused on listening for anyone’s approach. A strange suspicious anxiety loomed at the back of my brain, but I refused to give it words.

Nearly half an hour passed before the door opened and Lyre stepped in. I had heard him coming down the hall, had bounced up onto my feet to meet whoever it was, the knife hidden in my palm – just in case. He stared at me intensely. Then he closed the door and stepped closer to me, reaching out to push my hair back from the side of my head with one hand, tilting my chin up forcefully with his other hand. I opened my mouth to protest, but the words choked to a stop before I could even make a sound. I hadn’t realized he was taller than me until that moment.

“Are you a half elf of some sort?” he asked, his voice low. I realized that he was studying my ears. I tried to shake my head, but his grip was tight. He pulled my chin the other way to look at the other side of my head. “How…?” he started, then his eyes met mine and widened. He shook his head fiercely, lifted his hands into the air and stepped back. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t….” Then he lowered his hands to his sides. “He didn’t see either of us walk in, so he thinks she managed to cast somehow, even without a Focus.”

“Is she okay?” I asked, dreading the response.

His lips thinned as he grimaced. It was all the answer I needed to feel guilt churn my stomach and creep up my throat. I plopped down on my bed. “It’s good that he didn’t see it was you.”

I hadn’t even put the thought into words. Hearing it spoken out loud, it was hard to deny. “She saw me.”

“Then she said nothing of it.”

Well, that only made me feel guiltier. “What did I even do?”

“You cast. But not a proper spell – something more primal. Elemental. You let out a burst of energy – like a storm. You threw him off of her. You can use magic.” Throughout the entire conversation, he did not bother averting his eyes at all, and he stared at me now, steadily, his expression hard to read. I could feel myself shivering. I could use magic? In a world where magic users were kept as slaves? I could feel the blood drain from my face. What was going to happen to me?

Lyre, seeing my reaction, knelt down in front of me, clasping my hands in his. I was certain he could feel the knife I held clasped in my palm, but he didn’t seem surprised or worried about it – if anything, his expression softened with sympathy. “We’ll keep this secret. As I said before, I will allow no harm to come to you. This doesn’t change that promise.”

I closed my eyes and took three deep breaths. I kept my eyes closed as I considered my options. When I opened them, I looked into the steely blue-grey of Lyre’s eyes. “Starting tomorrow morning, you’re going to teach me to use magic,” I said.

The next morning, Lyre’s brief language lesson included more elven phrases. After that, he cast the language spell. I watched the Focus glow as he spoke the words, frowning. “Am I going to be able to use magic without a Focus?” I asked when he handed the smooth black stone back.

“Yes. The Focus isn’t necessary for casting at all.”

“Then why do you use it?” I asked as I placed it back around my neck.

“It works with these,” he said. He ran a hand along the intricate tattoo that covered the side of his head. “The tattoos inhibit our natural magical ability, so that we can’t cast at will. They also easily identify us as slaves to everyone at a glance. It’s called tethering. The Focus is like a key that gives us permission to access our abilities.” I had suspected that they were slave marks, but didn’t know their full purpose until now. “You should be able to learn to cast just fine. We can even start with something simple, using the elven phrases I taught you this morning.”

I reached out and traced one of the lines that curled up his cheek. “When do they give these to you?”

He went very still at my touch, and his eyes dropped instantly to the ground. I pulled my hand back quickly. “When we’re infants. Magical ability doesn’t really manifest until we’re closer to 10 or 11, but they take no chances.”

There was an awkward pause. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have touched you without your permission,” I said.

“You have no need to seek permission from me for anything.”

I shook my head as he spoke. “I’m not going to treat you like property,” I said, and for a moment the vehement anger in my voice surprised even me.

He looked up again and held my gaze for a long moment, a searching expression on his face. Then he cleared his throat. “Like I said, we can start with something simple.”

And that was the beginning of my first magic lesson. Since I already seemed to have an affinity for summoning wind, that was what Lyre attempted to teach me. Unfortunately, it wasn’t easy going. The first part of the problem was focusing enough past the translation spell to recognize the words Lyre had been teaching me beyond the perfect translation of what he was saying. But even past that, just speaking the words didn’t activate the spell. I focused hard on how I had felt the night before, but I failed to produce even the faintest breeze in that first lesson.

And I had other duties to attend as well. Lyre and I went up to the deck, where the Captain waved us over as soon as he saw us. “I’m afraid Lyre will have to take a turn with the casting today,” Wrasker said as he held out his hand for the Focus. “We had an incident the other night, and another slave is out of the rotation. I’ll try to keep him on duty only while you’re performing your work on deck.”

I nodded as I handed over the smooth black stone. “What happened to the other slave?” I asked, attempting to sound nonchalant. The Captain handed the Focus over to Lyre, and gestured for him to take his place near the wheel. I watched Lyre speak and perform the same spell he had just been attempting to teach me, summoning and commanding a gust of wind that caused the sails to billow and noticeably increased the speed of the ship. He made it look frustratingly effortless.

“She attacked one of my crew, and he beat her quite badly so she’s currently out of the rotation as she heals. This may slow us down even more. Sarks and his temper… If she dies, it’s coming out of his pay.” He shook his head and clicked his tongue. I kept my face carefully stoic as I excused myself and started on swabbing the deck. My mind felt like static as I worked.

There was guilt. There was loads of guilt, filling me so completely that I could taste bile at the back of my throat, like I had gorged on the bitter emotion. But more than the guilt, a certain degree of trepidation also started to build in me. What would happen to me if they found out that I could cast magic as well? Would I be enslaved? Would I be killed? I couldn’t shake any of the thoughts crowding my mind as I worked. I cycled through my other tasks as well, all equally mindless enough that I was never given a break from my racing thoughts. By the end of the day, I was both mentally and physically exhausted.

I ate some and waited for Lyre, and watching him cast did seem to help clear my thoughts. I thought of his promise to protect me. I had never thought of myself as being a person in need of protection. I knew home was far from being the safest, but if I had ever come close to being enslaved or harmed there, I wasn’t aware of it. In my little bubble of home, I always felt safe. And here, where I was a stranger in a strange land, I knew for a fact I wasn’t safe.

So I thought of his promise to protect me – a promise that would have annoyed me at another point in another place of my life – and I felt reassured.

02. Cassandra

On By MaryIn 2023, WritingLeave a comment

The next morning when I woke, Lyre was already awake as well, sitting on the other bed. He had his feet pulled up from the floor and settled underneath himself, his hands rested passively on his lap, one on top of the other. He was very pointedly not looking at me. I sat up and stretched my arms out, then twisted to try to stretch my back some. I didn’t feel that bad, despite the mattress being thin and harder than I was used to. There was a bowl, a pitcher of water, and a small towel set on the table between the beds. It hadn’t been there the night before, so Lyre must have gotten it for me. I poured the water into the bowl and splashed some on my face, then rinsed out my mouth and drank some of it. It was very cold and surprisingly fresh. Drying my face off with the towel afterwards, I murmured, “Thank you,” to Lyre. He shifted slightly, but said nothing in return.

Then, completely ignoring my audience, I pulled my clothes off down to my underwear to begin studying myself. It was something I had decided as soon as I realized I could see so well without my glasses.

I had been involved in a car crash once when I was in my late teens, when a drunk driver had t-boned the vehicle I was in. I was seated on the passenger side, which was the side that was hit. Thankfully I remember very little of it or of my stay in the hospital, and being fairly young and in good health I made a quick recovery. The series of scars from that crash covered the right-hand side of my body. None of them were large or garish, but there were several and they traveled from my knee, over the hip, and up to my rib cage. The doctors had done their best to minimize scarring in the first place and many had faded over time. In truth, I hardly noticed them anymore.

They were all gone.

I stood and pivoted on my right leg. No twinge or stiffness in my hip. Most people didn’t know about the accident because I could walk fine, but sometimes I could feel the reminder of the old injury if I twisted just the wrong way when I moved.

I poured over the rest of my body. There were no scars at all. No scratches from my over-excited dog jumping on me before he had been taught to stop, no acne or ingrown hair scars. No shaving nicks, no stretch marks. But every natural feature was still in place. Most of my moles seemed about right, the small blue crescent shaped birthmark on my left shoulder was still in place. It also occurred to me that I was thinner. I had never been fat, but certain things had started catching up to me as I had approached 30.  I could see the outline of my ribs under my breasts again, and the undersides of my arm had tightened.

I didn’t feel like I wasn’t in my body. But I also felt better than I had in years, and all the detritus and evidence of time spent living seemed to be missing. I wished I had a mirror so I could see if my fillings were still in my teeth, and I absentmindedly rubbed at my jaw as I thought about it. And there were other things. Unseen things regarding my health…

My eyes focused on what was in front of me. Lyre was still sitting on the bed, very still, staring at the ground. He seemed to have a little bit more color in his face for once. I wondered if it would have been more appropriate for me to dismiss him first, but I wasn’t sure what the protocol was. I dressed, putting on the clothes I had been wearing as I slept. “I guess you could show me around the ship now,” I said.

He frowned slightly, then held his hand out. I stared blankly at his open palm. For a moment, I wondered if I was supposed to tip him. Then he spoke softly, and I realized I couldn’t understand the words. “Oh!” I fumbled around my neck, grabbed the leather strap and pulled it over my head to hand the black stone over to him.

After the glow from the spell faded, Lyre handed the stone back and I carefully placed it around my neck again. “What did you say?” he asked.

“I said I would like to be shown the ship.”

We spent the next half hour briefly visiting each section of the ship. It wasn’t a large ship, but I did take my time examining things out of sheer curiosity. Down below decks there was a sleeping place for the slaves. There were three other slaves on the ship, two women and a man. The women were both present and asleep, sprawled on thin blankets and hay that had a damp, musty smell. Beyond their bedding area was the cargo hold where crates were piled with fabrics and spices from a place called Walsam. Lyre seemed a bit fidgety when I considered opening some of the crates, so I decided against it.

Above that was a storage deck full of supplies for the ship and crew – weapons, food, drink. There were two cannons, one on each side of the ship, and supplies for the cannons stowed close to them. “Do you ever have to use them?” I asked.

“We’ve been attacked by pirates a few times. We – the mages – are a pretty good deterrent once they realize we’re present. But we have had to use the cannons before.”

“Is it not common to keep mages on a ship?” I asked, trying to remind myself that pirates were not a thing to be reasonably excited about.

“Not entirely uncommon, but the Captain has sought out mages capable of… very dangerous magic.” I didn’t ask what kind of magic that would be. It was also hard to get Lyre to talk for very long on any subject – he answered all of my questions directly as I asked them, but didn’t seem keen to give full lectures.

Next was the deck of the ship. The first thing I noticed as we emerged into the sunlight was that the tattoos on Lyre’s skin shimmered. They actually looked almost beautiful, with a slightly iridescent quality to them, looping up into a pattern of leaves and flora that stood out starkly against his pale skin. Lyre pointed toward the aft of the ship – the Captain’s quarters were right under the wheel, and above the guest quarters where I slept. On occasion they would take passengers, though they weren’t exclusively a passenger vessel. On the fore side of the ship were the crew quarters, though Lyre only gestured to them and did not take me down into them.

As Lyre pointed out these areas, Wrasker spotted us from where he stood near the wheel, and called out to us. “Cassandra. Come have some food, lass.” I could see that the other male elf was casting the wind spell from there as well – he was hard to miss, being even taller than the Captain, though slighter in frame. Wrasker descended the stairs quite agilely for a man of his size and led the way into the room where I had been warmed the night before. There were a few other crew members present and eating, but the captain waved them away and they left, looking at me curiously and whispering amongst themselves. I smiled stiffly at them as they passed.

The captain offered me what they had been eating – a bowl of soup, with what seemed to be fish and some kind of root vegetable almost like a potato in it, and a few pieces of a very hard bread. I softened the bread in the soup and ate. Everything was very salty, but I was hungrier than I had realized and happily drank the broth down in large gulps. I cupped my hand around the bowl as I ate, enjoying the warmth.

Glancing around, I saw that Lyre was standing back by the door, hands clasped in front of himself. “Did you have a good night’s sleep?” Wrasker asked, seating himself at the table. There were several papers and a map on it now. I couldn’t understand any of the flowy script on the pages – the written word was just as incomprehensible to me as their spoken language.

I swallowed the soup in my mouth and nodded. “Yes, I did. Thank you for rescuing me. I’m not sure what I would have done if you hadn’t been nearby. I was very near freezing to death.”

“Indeed. The sea is unforgiving. You were lucky that we were able to find you as quickly as we did.” He paused for a moment. “The light that helped us spot you. That was an impressive display of magic that landed you there. Could mean that someone might come looking for you.” He studied me carefully as though my expression may give away some truth that I wasn’t willing to voice, but I shrugged. Truthfully, I wasn’t sure what any of it meant. “Regardless, I’m not apt to toss a woman out to her fate in these waters, but the quarters we have you in are usually reserved for guests. Paying guests.”

I nodded again. “I understand. I’ve never spent any time on a ship… that I can remember,” I added the last bit belatedly, recalling at the last second that I had claimed to remember nothing about my life the night before. “But I’m willing to learn what I can to help pull my weight around here. I fully intend to repay you for your generosity.” I wasn’t sure how I’d manage that beyond being helpful. I wasn’t even sure how helpful I could be. I felt butterflies churn my stomach as I wondered how long I’d have to serve on the ship to earn my way. At some point, I’d have to try to find out more about the world I was in – how I might have come to be here. And most important – why I had come to be here. As Wrasker said, someone could be looking for me. I needed to know enough to know whether I wanted to be found or not.

But I wouldn’t be able to do that without money or knowledge, especially if I needed magic to be able to communicate with anyone here and couldn’t read the language. “Well, I don’t intend to collect immediately. Settle yourself in, take a few days to relax and gather yourself. Then we’ll start you on some basic tasks. We’re at least three weeks out from our destination port – four, if the sailing isn’t smooth. From there, we’ll give you some coins and set you on your way, and consider ourselves even.”

I nodded, happily surprised that my tenure on the boat wouldn’t be overlong. “That’s… more than fair. In fact, it’s quite generous. Thank you, Captain.”

He stood. “For now, you’ll still have use of Lyre, as he can cast the spell for you, and he can chaperone you while you are on the ship. I don’t expect anyone will mistreat you, but my men rarely have women working alongside them.”

“Oh? I thought two of your elves were women?” I blurted out without thinking. Then I realized that they might not even think of elves as people and felt a bit of indignation at the thought. Then the Captain’s next words made the pit of my stomach drop completely.

“Well… women they aren’t allowed fair use of,” he said with a dismissive wave of his hand.

“I… I see.” Although I had suddenly lost my appetite, I forced myself to quickly finish my soup and dismissed myself. Without waiting for Lyre, I made my way to my quarters, refusing to look anyone in the face as I went, feeling utterly disgusted with everyone on the ship. I closed the door behind me and ran my hands up my face and through my hair as I processed what I had just been told. And so casually at that.

The door bumped into me as Lyre attempted to enter the room, eliciting a slightly startled “shit!” from me. I stepped back to let him in. He entered, and closed the door behind him, then stood in front of it. I stared at him for a long moment.

He glanced up at me briefly before averting his eyes again. “Don’t worry. As the Captain said, you’ll be safe. I’ll make sure of it. No harm will come to you while you are under my protection.”  He must have seen the concern on my face and assumed that I was scared.

I couldn’t even think of the words to explain that I wasn’t really terrified for myself. That I was disgusted by the practice of slavery. That the casual dismissal of these slaves being assaulted made me feel physically sick. That I was frustrated that any fuss I made might be immediately laughed off, or worse. That I was at the mercy of the Captain and the crew because I certainly couldn’t walk off the ship in the middle of the ocean in protest. I thought again about how quickly I had almost frozen to death in the water. Instead, I made a weird, strangled throaty sound and plopped down on the bed. I slipped my hand over to the edge of the mattress. At least the knife was still there.

I spent the rest of the day stewing in my frustration. At one point I did snap at Lyre to at least sit on the bed, which he did obediently. As it grew dark, he said, “On.”

The lamp on the table flared to life. I stared in fascination. I realized that the light was steady and not flickering – there was no fire. I sat up from the bed and moved closer to the lamp, placing my hand on it – it generated warmth, but nothing dangerously hot. Opening it, I could see that there was a stone seated inside, glowing brightly. “Is this magic?” I asked, poking at the stone cautiously.

“Yes. It’s been enchanted for common use – so that those without magical ability can also benefit from it. If you want it to turn off, you have to say off.”

Curious, I said, “Off.” Nothing happened.

A strange series of expressions flitted across Lyre’s features, what I think may have been confusion followed by realization followed by amusement, but then he had carefully controlled his face again and said, “No, you have to say ‘off’ in the elven tongue. If the language spell is translating everything for you, that distinction doesn’t come across, I suppose.” And then he said “Off” again and the light dimmed before dying completely and left the room in darkness. I tried to focus on how “off” may have sounded different or distinct in each time it was pronounced, but my brain couldn’t pick it out. The language spell translated everything perfectly.

“And to turn it on?”

“On,” he spoke again. The stone’s light grew until it lit the small room entirely.

I sighed. “I guess you’re going to have to turn my lights on and off for me then,” I said, feeling a little annoyed. I pulled my knees close to my chest, wrapping my arms around them as I stared at the magical light. To some degree, all I wanted to do was pout some more, but having spent the entire day doing nothing but that, I was finally sulked out. No – none of this would do. If I was here in this world, I’d have to be able to function in this world. “Tomorrow morning, before you cast the spell… teach me the words.”

“As you wish,” he responded.

I curled up on the bed, and turned to face the wall. I closed my eyes. I was going to have to stop letting my own sensibilities carry my attitude and get used to this world. I would have to start with learning what I could to earn my passage on this ship, and learn the languages of this world. That would be the first step. And once we made it to port, I’d figure out my next step from there. I steadied my breathing and forced myself to clear my mind. “Off,” I heard Lyre command the light, could feel the room darken from behind my eyelids. Soon I was asleep again.

01. Cassandra

On By MaryIn 2023, WritingLeave a comment

The sudden shock of being fully submerged in freezing water woke me instantly. I almost gasped, but as the salty water filled my mouth, I managed to snap my mouth shut and hold my breath. For a terrifying span of seconds, I wondered which way was up. I forced myself to calm to stillness and waited for my natural buoyancy to pull me in the right direction. It seemed to be working, but the seconds stretched unnaturally long as my lungs began to burn, and I thrashed desperately towards what I hoped was the surface.

My face broke water. I gulped hungrily at the sweet, crisp air.

I was never the strongest swimmer and I needed some moments to orient myself, so I relaxed, allowing myself to float on my back. My mind grasped at the last things I could remember. I had boarded my flight home after visiting with my father and his new wife. Did the plane crash? I couldn’t see any signs of a wreck nearby, and besides… I was flying from Ohio to Nevada. We shouldn’t have been above the ocean. Or at least, what I assumed was the ocean. I stared up at the undersides of dark clouds stretching across the sky, but despite the stormy appearance the water was calm. The confusion I felt was physically dizzying for a moment, and I closed my eyes against the vertigo that threatened to overwhelm my senses.

None of the questions I had were going to be answered quickly, nor would they solve my current problem. After several moments and three deep breaths, I had calmed myself reasonably enough and shifted back to treading water so I could take in my surroundings. I turned in a full circle to see if I could see something – animals, boats, land – anything. To my surprise, there were lights – close enough to give me hope, and they appeared to be moving in my direction. Tentatively, I shouted, “Help!” but it came out weakly, so I cleared my throat and filled my lungs and shouted again, much louder this time. I thought I could hear shouting in the distance.

I grasped desperately at the rope that was lowered into the water for me. My limbs felt clumsy and leaden as I wrapped it around my waist and positioned it under my armpits, my fingers so numb and frozen that maneuvering the rope into place seemed to take longer than it should have. Just as I wondered dully how I was going to manage the strength to pull myself up, I was instead yanked bodily from the water. At the other end of the rope were several men, and they easily pulled me up and over the railing, where I immediately slumped to my knees on the floor of the wooden deck. I couldn’t bring myself to stand. My mind felt foggy from the cold, which shocked me to some degree because I felt I hadn’t been in the water long enough to be so affected by it.

Someone wrapped a blanket around me quickly and lifted me bodily and I was taken inside. A cast iron stove stood on one side of the room and I was deposited on the floor near it. Normally I would have been appalled to be picked up and carried anywhere, but the heat wafting off the stove drove most other thoughts from my mind. I moved close to it, almost close enough to touch it, desperate for the warmth it emanated.

Soon the noise died down as the group was ushered out of the room, leaving me alone with a tall barrel-chested man, with a thick black beard streaked through with gray. He wore a baggy blue shirt that laced up the front, the sleeves rolled up, the color faded from sun and salt water. I stared at him blankly as he began to speak, wondering how addled my brain had been from the freezing waters because none of his words were making sense to me.

I shook my head, attempting to clear it. Frowning, he spoke again, and I realized it was a completely different language that I was hearing, and not one that I recognized at all. I responded this time with, “I’m sorry, I don’t understand.” I half hoped that he would recognize English, but he only frowned harder and tilted his head. He walked across the room slowly, grabbed a flask from inside a cabinet of some sort built into the other corner of the room, and then walked over to hand it to me. He was very slow and deliberate in his movements, and when he spoke, he spoke in a calm soothing tone. I couldn’t understand the words, but I did understand that he was trying not to appear threatening.

I accepted the flask and opened it, sipping cautiously at first. Whatever it was, it was strong and I almost coughed, but the flavor was sweet and the burn of the alcohol was warming. I took a harder pull from it before handing it back. He chuckled appreciatively and slipped it into his waistband.

A moment later another man entered. This one was not as tall or wide as the barrel-chested man, and he wore very plain tanned robes that looked almost like a long tunic or a simple toga. From under his clothes and climbing up his neck were a series of intricate tattoos, that rose to just under his ears and along the right side of his face and around his head in delicate designs that seemed to frame his features. He had short cut silvery blonde hair and very pale skin. He kept his eyes trained on the floor as he approached me.

The barrel-chested man was speaking to him as he came close and knelt to leave a pile of clothes and another blanket near me. Then he turned back toward the other man. Something was exchanged between them – a smooth black stone hung on a leather strap. Then he turned and faced me, the stone clutched in one hand that he held before him, the other hand gesturing as he spoke. His voice was clear, stronger than I had expected it to be from his demeanor, and the words sounded very different than the language I had heard so far – more than that, his voice took on an eerie echoing quality. He made direct eye contact – his eyes were a pale gray-blue, but for a moment they took on a fluorescent hue. A light shimmered around me.

I froze in place, unsure of what was happening or what to do about it. As the light dimmed and vanished, the barrel-chested man stepped closer. “Can you understand me now?” he asked.

I felt a shiver run down my spine, this time not entirely from the cold. I steadied myself by clutching the blanket around me tighter. “Yes,” I said, forcing my voice to be stronger than I felt.

He nodded, and gestured to the clothes. “We’ll leave you to some privacy. Get dressed, and then come find me on the deck.” I nodded. I looked back up at the man that had cast the spell, or whatever it was, but he had returned to staring demurely at the ground. As they left the room, the black stone was passed back to the barrel-chested man.

I stared at the door for a moment after they left, wishing he had left the flask behind as well. Then I stood and picked up the clothes that had been left for me. I try to dress as comfortably as possible when I go on long trips, so I was wearing leggings and a tank top under an oversized sweater. The sweater was heavy with cold water and I was glad to pull it off, letting it thump to the ground. I had been wearing slip on shoes, but they had been lost, either into the ocean or before, but I did still have my socks. I peeled the wet clothes off, and when it became clear that there wasn’t any underwear on offer in the pile of clothes, wrung out my underwear and sports bra and socks and held them as close as I dared to the stove. I did the same with the tank top, which was a light enough material that I figured it would dry quickly as well.

I wasn’t sure how long I would be given to dress, so the underwear was still damp as I slipped it back on, but at least nothing was soaked through as badly as it had been. I also pulled the tank top back on. The tanned breeches they left were simple, and actually fairly close to my size though still a bit too large. They buttoned on the side, and I found a folding knife on the table that I used to improvise a new buttonhole to close the pants a bit tighter. The shirt was red and baggy and much too large – it had been meant to lace up the front, but the laces were missing. It wasn’t that big of an issue with the tank top underneath, at least. I wrung my hair and my other clothes out as best as I could, then wrapped my damp clothes in the blanket that had first been given to me, which was also fairly wet at this point.

Wrapping myself in the new blanket and pulling my socks on, I started to leave the room. I glanced briefly at the little knife I had used to improvise the buttonhole, wondering if I should take it with me. After a moment of indecision, I folded the knife and slipped it into the waist of the pants.

It looked a little lighter outside now. The sails were billowing and the ship was moving along at a clipped pace. Glancing up, just behind the wheel I could see another individual dressed in the same tanned robes as the pale man. She held a hand out to the sails, and was enveloped in a faint glow, with wisps of light dancing around her. Her hair was also shorn very short, and I could just barely make out a series of tattoos along her temple and jaw that wrapped up around and came down low on her forehead.

She was the source of the wind, I realized.

The barrel-chested man was standing up near them, leaning against the rail. He waved a hand at me as he saw me emerge from the cabin. I walked up the stairs to where he was. “Allow me a proper introduction,” he said as I approached. “You’re aboard my ship, the Crimson Yeller. My name is Karl Wrasker, and I am both owner and captain of this vessel.”

“I’m Cassandra Murphy,” I said. “If you don’t mind, Captain… where am I? I don’t think I’ve ever heard a language like the one you spoke.”

He raised an eyebrow and studied me for a moment. “Could say the same,” he said, then continued with, “You’re lucky we were near enough this stretch of water as it is. Some say it’s a cursed stretch of ocean. Almost impossible to navigate without an elf to fill your sails,” he gestured at the glowing woman.

“Elf?” I stared more closely now. Sure enough, the tips of her ears came to gently upswept points. I turned to peer around and caught sight of the man that had cast the spell on me earlier, standing a few feet back from the Captain. He had been studying me curiously but as I turned to look at him, his eyes quickly averted, and he was staring at the floor once more. His ears also came to points.

“Yes, but no worries – these aren’t Empire elves. They’re properly tethered.”

“I… I see.” Tethered? Were they prisoners or maybe even slaves? “I don’t suppose you saw anything in the sky before you saw me?” I hoped the question didn’t sound too unusual in a world where there was magic.

“We saw a light, which is why we drew so close to where we found you. It was quite a flash – lit up the whole sky like dawn and then channeled straight down into the water. May have been something that delivered you to that spot.” He studied me again, very pointedly staring at my ears which he seemed to decide were suitably rounded. “Were you a prisoner of the Empire?”

“I don’t know. I… don’t remember. I don’t remember anything about my life at all.” I glanced away, hoping he wouldn’t catch the lie. I wasn’t sure how to explain that where I was from, there was no such things as elves or magic. The description of the light that he gave didn’t sound like the fireball of a plane crash at least. I wondered what had happened to the plane, or to the other passengers. I wondered what my mom would think when I didn’t arrive in Reno safely. I stared up at the billowing sails, lost in thought.

“Well, you’ve had quite a night, and it’s barely morning yet. If you need some sleep, I’ll have Lyre show you to the guest cabin. It’s not a large ship and we rarely take on passengers. I’ll have him stay with you while you’re aboard – I think he’s the only elf we’ve got that can do the language spell.  He’ll have to recast it each morning, and he can show you about the ship when you wake.” Wrasker gestured to Lyre, who stepped forward obediently.

“Thank you, Captain,” I mumbled, tilting my head forward in acknowledgment, then turned to follow Lyre.

“Wait… you’ll be needing this.” I stopped and looked back. The Captain was holding out the flat black stone. I reached out and grabbed the leather strap that held it. “That’s his Focus. He’ll need it for casting, just make sure you take it back immediately after each spell, and don’t let any of the other elves touch it.” I nodded, and slipped the leather strap around my neck. It hung low enough to disappear under my tank top, and felt almost warm against my skin.

Then I was led back down and below the cabin I had been taken to warm up in. A small hall separated two smaller rooms of similar size and build. Inside there were two beds, each with a trunk placed at the end, and a small table set between them. A lamp sat on the table, glowing brightly. I laid my damp clothes out on the trunk to dry, and hung the damp blanket from the end of the bedframe, then sat on the thin mattress, pulling the dry blanket around me tighter.

My mind attempted to digest everything from the past hour. I felt that certainly I must be dreaming. I ran my hand over the blanket wrapped around me – it was soft, old and worn but not yet threadbare. The sounds of the deck were dampened here, but the ship creaked as it swayed on the ocean, and the occasional voice drifted down. I felt that these were details I would never have noticed in a dream.

After a few moments, I realized that Lyre was still in the room and standing at the door, his eyes trained on the floor, his hands clasped in front. I stared up at him, studying him in the lamplight. Slavery. That was something hard to digest. Disgust and pity and anxiety churned my insides. “You don’t have to stand like that.” Nodding, he began to sit on the floor in front of the door. “No! Don’t do that!” I cried out, probably louder than necessary. His head snapped up to look at me in alarmed confusion. Our eyes met briefly, and then he immediately focused his gaze back down on the floor and started to stand again. “I just mean… you can sit on the other bed.” I gestured toward it.

I felt the heat rising up my neck as he paused for a long moment before obeying me. With a flash of anger, I realized that of course slaves probably weren’t used to being invited to sit with their slavers. It all seemed awful. I was in a world with magic and elves, and they were slaves. And I had no idea how I had come here. I had been on a plane. What had happened to the plane? To the other passengers? Were they in this world too? Or did the plane get to its destination just fine without me? What were my parents going to think when I didn’t make it home? Would my mom keep my dog and continue to take care of him? When I didn’t show up for work in a few days, would I lose my job? My apartment? I was on a ship, in a strange world where likely no one spoke my language. I had a slave assigned to look after me.

I leaned forward and placed my forehead in my hands, feeling exhausted and sick, like a million centipedes were crawling over every inch of my insides and eating me alive. I forced myself to clear my mind. I could change none of this in the moment. I took three deep breaths. I realized how bone tired I felt.

Looking up, I caught Lyre staring at me curiously again. His gaze dropped immediately. Well, there’s something that’s going to annoy me quickly, I thought. I moved my hand up to my face to push my glasses up the bridge of my nose, or maybe remove them before sleeping – a gesture that felt so natural that I didn’t consider it until my hands touched nothing. No glasses. Frowning, I ran my hands down my face again, then pulled them away. Of course, there was no way my glasses would have survived through anything that had happened to me.

And yet…

I looked up at Lyre again, squinting slightly though there was no need. My vision isn’t the worst, but even at this distance I shouldn’t have been able to make out the details of his tattoos, or the pattern of the wood grain behind him. And yet I saw it all in perfect detail.

Like I didn’t need glasses at all.

“Huh,” I said. Then everything about my situation crashed down on me again, but instead of letting the anxiety build I started to laugh. I couldn’t help myself. Everything about this situation was utterly insane. Lyre frowned, but didn’t look up at me. “Well, what the fuck?” I murmured to myself, and then lay down on the bed, turning to face the wall of the cabin and pulling the blanket around me. From under the blanket, I slipped the pocket knife between the mattress and the wall, then closed my eyes to sleep.

2023 Writing Challenge

On By MaryIn 2023, WritingLeave a comment

So this year a friend and I are going to be undertaking a writing challenge. We’ve agreed upon the following ground rules as follows:

1) The goal is to write 2500 words (at the very least) a week. We can go over the word limit, but cannot fall under it.


2) We have allowed that we can start plotting/writing before 2023, but the first post will start on January 8, 2023 and continue until December 31, 2023.


3) No short stories counted toward the challenge. The challenge will involve one full story, so by the end of 2023, we will each have written a full novel.


4) Through the year we must make at least 45 posts. This gives us a bit of leeway to miss the occasional week (because life happens).


5) The story does not have to end after the challenge if we are not done. But we must be able to stretch it long enough to meet the terms of the challenge (at least 45 updates of 2500 words or more).


6) Whoever quits the challenge first owes the other person a fancy cheesecake.

I’m not very good at keeping up with things like this for more than a few months, so I have the feeling I’ll be owing someone a cheesecake, but let’s see how far I can go.

NYC Flash Fiction Challenge: Round 3

On By MaryIn WritingLeave a comment

I did not move past Round 3. In Round 3, the top 3 stories moved on to the final round 4. While I did not move past this round, there were 5 honorable mentions for each group, and within my grouping I did receive an honorable mention. (Although I think it is to note that I was the very last honorable mention – so 8th overall, I guess?)

In this particular round, the genre was fairy tale, the location was a row boat, and the object was a podium. I wasn’t sure how closely I stayed within the confines of a fairy tale, and I really felt the limits of 1000 words within this story so it is quite choppy. I do like some of the ideas for a fantasy setting, and have considered actually expanding upon the world I’ve potentially started to build here.

This was also another story shot out last minute, this time due to general busyness, laziness, and uncertainty at how to handle the tale, although the basic idea of the first scene was always there in my mind.

So here is my final entry for the NYC Flash Fiction challenge, that definitely needed many more words to be fleshed out: “The Stormlord’s Bride”

A Stormlord lived under their lake. When the sign presented itself, the summer solstice ended with a ceremony in which the Stormlord would choose his bride from amongst the young women of the surrounding villages. Denying him would bring calamity, hard winters and dry summers and death. Stormlords were often responsible for such natural phenomena, and their tempers were legendary – that the local Stormlord could be so easily appeased was actually considered a blessing.

The elders had seen the sign for the first time in many years. And Teayani was old enough to participate in the ceremony. Though she did not wish to marry, she did not think that she would be chosen. She donned the traditional raiment and set out in her rowboat. Around her, other boats dotted the surface of the lake, each carrying a girl. Teayani had spent much of her time on the lake and had no trouble pulling ahead of the others.

The center of the lake was marked by a stone podium raising out of the water. Teayani chose to stop a respectful distance away and shivered slightly as she looked at it. She had never seen the podium emerge from the water – it had never happened in her lifetime. Though dark from the water, it was unusually clean – no algae greened the rough stone, no tendrils of water plants hung from its edges. As night darkened the sky, other boats surrounded the podium. Teayani could hear chatter and a little laughter. She was not particularly close to anyone, so she kept away from the others.

The chatter and laughter all died as the priestess called for silence, leaving only the sound of oars sloshing water and boats bumping against each other. Teayani did not know her – she was from another village. Only the youngest priestess was required to be at the ceremony – priestesses took vows of celibacy and were exempt from the ritual, but one had to be present to lead. It became strangely quiet and still on the water – at the priestess’s direction, each girl lit the paper lantern she had brought. The priestess sang an old song in an old language and when she finished, she released her lantern. Other lanterns rose into the sky after. Teayani released her own, watching it float up and swirl and mingle with the others.  The lanterns seemed to grow smaller. Teayani heard a sudden gasp from a nearby boat, and frowned as she realized why – the lanterns had actually changed into small lights. The lights began to move in tandem as they descended. The priestess was singing again.

Every girl present held her breath. They had all been told what to do, but had not been told how the choice would be made. As the lights danced amongst them, Teayani knew – whoever the lights landed on would be the Stormlord’s bride. She closed her eyes. The chosen was supposed to climb upon the stone podium and descend to her new husband in the depths. Teayani felt a dread settle in the pit of her stomach – through her closed lids, she could tell that the light was growing stronger around her. She felt flushed. When she opened her eyes, she was blinded by the light. It was as though every point had settled upon her and her boat.

Teayani grasped for her oars. The priestess cut her song short as she saw that Teayani was going the wrong way, shouted a warning instead. “You’ll doom us all!” Then you marry him, Teayani thought to herself, using all her strength to row away.

She couldn’t see through all the light, but she rowed, and soon the shouts and cries of the girls behind her fell away, the yelling of the priestess fell away, and the only sound was the sound of the lights – a buzz that dominated all her senses. She rowed and rowed and began to feel hopeless. She had rowed across this lake so many times before. She knew she should have made it to shore already, and yet… she continued to row.

The light faded, the buzzing stopped. Teayani blinked as her eyes readjusted. The first thing she noticed was that the water smelled wrong. Less like her familiar lake and more like… brine. She turned, trying to see land, but all around was only water – and nearby, a stone podium, thrust out amongst the waves.

Shaking her head, she rowed the boat away from the podium. After what seemed like almost an hour, her boat hit something, jostling her. Turning, she saw that it was the podium. Shivering from the cold sea wind, she pushed an oar against the podium, set out in another random direction. Time and time again, she came upon the podium, thrust out above the dark water, waiting for her. After a time, she leaned against the side of her boat and wept, letting her tears fall into the water.

A cold hand reached up and brushed at her cheek. Teayani gasped, staring down into gold, glittering eyes, pale skin, dark hair that blended with the sea. “Instead of marrying the Stormlord, you could join us,” a sweet voice rang out from the water. Teayani glanced at the podium, and then back at the water.

“Join you?” she croaked, her voice hoarse.

“All mermaids are would-be brides,” the voice responded, and the figure pulled closer – the beautiful features of a young woman became illuminated by the moonlight.

“But what about my village?” Teayani asked. “The Stormlord will punish them if I refuse him.”

“And yet, you were running,” the mermaid crooned. “Come with us. We’ll show you how to be free.” Teayani had heard the stories of mermaids before. She knew they wanted to drown her. But she didn’t see that she had a choice. She stood and turned in her boat, looking out across the waves, seeing more dark figures, more glittering eyes, all surrounding her – watching, waiting. She jumped.

She learned to breathe again.

 

The Judges’ comments:

WHAT THE JUDGES LIKED ABOUT YOUR STORY – {1908}  I love the worldbuilding details you include hear, from the Stormlords to the lantern in the ceremony. I also love the image of Teayani rowing yet never reaching a destination. It feels like a wonderfully fantastical world.  {1825}  I really like the world-building here. The idea of appeasing the Stormlord through marriage is a unique concept for a fairy tale, but is similar enough to some myths to feel right for the genre.  {1939}  This is beautifully written, and I completely empathize with Teayani. I like that the ending implies hope, that the mermaids do not destroy her, but make her one of their own.  WHAT THE JUDGES FEEL NEEDS WORK – {1908}  I’d be interested to hear more about the mermaids and the darker parts of the water earlier on. Even just another earlier mention of the mermaids and/or previous would-be brides would help develop this a lot and make the stakes feel higher.  {1825}  I don’t get the ending. What does it mean that she learned how to breathe again? Does that mean that she died, or did she really become a mermaid?  {1939}  I know the writer is working with a word limit, of course, but I would have liked to have seen the Stormlord actually make an appearance, so that I could gauge what Teayani is actually running from.

 

I don’t know how quickly I’ll get back to this particular world, but of the three stories I did for this challenge, this is the one I want to build on the most in the future. We’ll see.