It was late in the afternoon. The shimmers of the sun stood against the familiar back drop of blues and whites. The scent of the ocean air flooded through the noses of the people. Almost the entire population of the Western isle stood close to the ocean, all watching the approaching ship. Murmurs passed around them, most of the adults wearing soured expressions. The children and teenagers spoke in excited whispers, poking past the faces of their adult counterparts. A conflict of emotions throbbed through this setting, straining against the invisible wall that surrounded them.
Amelia dragged Maya through the crowd. Maya felt the hand on her arm, piercing through the material of her undershirt. She winced. They went passed people quickly, almost knocking them over. Amelia apologized repeatedly as they clawed their way to the front. The wall grew thicker and thicker. They swiveled through the grays and browns of tunic materials. The different smells that had accompanied them, spoke of each of their trades and jobs. To avoid any controversy with anyone, they skittered to the side.
Amelia breathed happily. The tang of salt mellowed within her. They both saw it. A ship, mightier than anything they had seen before sailed towards them. The sound of ringing bells accompanied it faintly, trailing the rustling of the bluish depths of the ocean. Maya felt a wave of familiarity. It throbbed on her mind slightly, the sound rose up from within a long discarded memory. One that she couldn't seem to remember but yet somehow knew it was there. Her throat suddenly lodged. She shook off the chills. Amelia stood beside her, barely able to contain her excitement.
"It's so big!" Amelia said, a smile cutting her face into two.
"Surprise." Maya said drily but Amelia took no notice. The waters gently crept unto the sand before wading away. The ship rolled down the ocean, covering great distance. The swish of its mighty sails danced to the beckon of the wind. Maya could see it now. The colors of the flag of the supreme leader. The flag of Central lay a little above the sails flapping wildly. Heavy purple slashed by the crusted gold. Two slashes of the same gold ran from side to side. At the middle was an owl circled by yellow that is lighter than the golden hue. Maya didn't have to think twice before she knew the person was coming from the Central isle.
The pier stretched from the shore into the sea, ever steady to the rising torrent of storms. Something flashed but it went so fast that she barely saw it. The ship soon stopped at the pier. The waters rolled back, sweeping to the sand in escape. The sound of the clanging of gears faintly rushed through their ears. Soon, a large and slightly rusted metallic anchor dived into the sea. The waters splashed at the disturbance. The clanging of gears sounded again before a ladder lowered down softly. As soon as it had reached the pier, a burly man climbed downwards. He stepped onto the pier with a huff. Maya furrowed her brows.
He stood with his back straight, a dull gray tunic with long puffed arms that billowed down slightly, covered his muscled chest. A pair of worn out but neat black tights stretched down his legs. Boots ended the whole outfit.
The murmurs grew louder and Maya looked up to see a man, his back to them, climbing down the ladder. An outer coat that covered his body was magenta, black stripes outlined the sides. He soon landed on the pier. His well polished shoes softly clicked. The whispers grew much louder as he faced the crowd. Within his outer coat lay a fresh burgundy vest before rolling down to some tights. His long graying hair was combed back and tied into a ponytail. The murmurs paced the environment.
What struck Maya was the coldness of his eyes. As hard as ice. His predatory eyes took in the crowd before him. Maya turned and saw how they still tried but failed to hide their venomous looks. Another man in the same attire as the other burly man clambered down. One of the men that flanked him stepped forward, his clean shaven jaw arching forward. In a loud and baritone voice he shouted,
"All hail Cabinet Representative Of The Western Isle, Tarrick Vermillion!" Silence. They all bowed, their heads sweeping down in a dip. Maya mirrored the action but she didn't lose the sight of their masked angered expressions. They knew the consequences of showing the slightest disrespect to any official.
"So he's related to Diane?" Amelia whispered to Maya, watching the man with a less excited gaze. Maya bit back a sarcastic remark and just nodded. Maya looked on at all the adults. Their steeled expressions. The clenched fists. Blazing eyes. The anger that pulsated off of all of them. What had this man done? Diane had talked about him a lot with barely concealed admiration. A true feat that only he had achieved. Her grandfather as she had said was a pace setter for this isle. Yet, the anger that congested the environment was enough to choke her.
This man must have done something very wrong. A man walked up to the older man. His slicked brown hair pushed back. His slightly muscled frame wearing the similar gray tunic. Mud entrenched its sides. Maya felt her body tense even from the distance. She felt the rattling of the vaults at the back of her mind. The dark cloud throbbed against the barrier. Sweat pooled down her brow. Chills ran up and down her spine. She felt Amelia grab her hand gently. She looked down at Amelia. She smiled at Maya, squeezed her hand a little. Maya straightened her back and breathed shakily.
The man and her father began to discuss. Her father looked like he was fighting to keep the scowl of his face. His fists clenched. His body trembled all over. Soon, their discussion was over. The older man said something to his counterparts, whom saluted and climbed up the ladder. The man was guided by her father as he led him away and was soon flanked by the other council members. The crowd separated giving them passage. The older man's eyes looked around leisurely as they walked, his eyes suddenly locked on Maya's. His eyes glinted but his face remained neutral. That look.
Everything vanished as soon that look crossed his eyes. Her stomach lurched.
***
The room was silent. The jointed room was dark save for the torch that burned hollowly, its tiny fire fighting to stay alive. The floors were glazed a dark brown. The furniture that used to be were no longer. All that was left was a table pushed to the side, underneath a small window that overlooked the statue of the supreme leader surrounded by a couple of chairs.
The furnace to the west of the room seemed to cough. The flames flickered, using its reserves to provide more heat. A small kettle lay on top of it. Two men sat across from each other on a table. The older man's eyes continued to look around the room in indifference. It'd been eighteen years. The younger one had his hands clasped, his head tilted towards the table. The fresh agony from the past swept through him. He felt his muscles strain under the load of self control.
He bit into his lip. He felt the coppery taste of metal. He breathed in, trying to ignore the pain. His eyes burned suddenly. He could feel his shoulders shake. His vision swam in and out of focus. The dead beat of his heart continued steadily, adamant at normalcy. Normalcy. Nothing had been the same since that day. The watery contents tried to push past the barrier. He threw them back. He felt the mans gaze on him.
He raised his head. The older man sat across from him in a similar chair. A cup of tea lay within his grasps. The older man watched him with a passive stare. He suddenly felt the fury grope him. He smote it. One mistake was all it took. He straightened his back.
"I co-"
"Your subjects," The older man began, dropping his cup softly. The sound of muffled talking snaked past the almost shut windows. "They seem to have grown a spine. Disrespectful. Unbending to authority." His heavily accented tone still surprised him. That's what eighteen years could do.
"Reminds me so much of your father's rule."The younger man's back straightened. The fury rushed back, almost toppling him over. He seethed silently, grasping the cool metal that encircled the table.
"Do. Not. Speak. Of. Him." He hissed dangerously. The man raised a graying eyebrow.
"Am I not allowed to freely reminiscence?" He carried the tea cup with wrinkled hands. He sipped it. He smacked his lips in satisfaction. "Your father was brash, too loving and caring. Always wanting to find a blind spot in the rules for the sake of others. And happy to help any stranger that crosses his path." He said, casting a glance at the younger man. The younger man's hatred soared in the depths of his honey brown eyes. He clenched his fists, shaking off the murderous thoughts. The jab threw him off, angering and terrifying him the more. He stood up. The chair shuffled back at the movement. His hands slammed down on his table, the teacup rattled. Parts of the tea sloshed forward, spraying drops onto the table
"Isn't that how a model king should be?!" Spit flew out of his mouth, splattering onto his counterparts face. The man's eyes darkened slightly. He wiped his face with the handkerchief.
"Remember who you are talking to." The mans condescending tone swam through the atmosphere. The tension cracked the frail bubble of peace. It clouded over the atmosphere, holding them within its strong grasp. The younger man's hands flew up. His eyes livid.
"Oh? Now, the adviser of the predecessor of the king thinks he's all important because he's now a cabinet representative." The man couldn't help but raise a brow.
The younger man's face lowered slightly.
"I still remember the news, they captured your very essence, didn't they? Going on and on, about how wonderful you were. Exposing the evil doers and showing their dirty linen in public! Acting by the law despite the resistances!" He chuckled, except it was bitter and ravaged by anger.
"You'll always remain a scum. A money hungry and power greedy scum." He pointed. The anger kindling into a wild fire. He felt his chest tighten at the thoughts that swirled in his head. At the words that had blurred the scrolls. The night. The older man sat, unfazed, watching him with calculating eyes.
" I did not in fact do it for the money nor the fame." He suddenly said, crossing his leg over the other.The younger man heaved. Frustration evident from his twitching eyes.
"It doesn-"
"It does. Motivation to a cause is just as important as the outcome." The younger man pulled on his hair. The curls stuck out haphazardly, bristling.
"So-"
"Your father has always tried to find a blind spot in the rules. A weak point. That is a quality of someone who is not fit for rule. The laws are guides. Structured for order. Created to keep civilization running. Without these laws, we would all be at the back of the forests, living among the wild animals." The younger remained unmoved.
"I don't understand what youre trying to say. All I know is that what happened eighteen years ago is your fault! You were the one who got him put to death!" The older man suddenly saw the young man in him, trembling and crying.
"No, I did not in fact do it. The law did. I merely enforced and enacted the law. Advisers are there to make sure these leaders don't use their power and leadership for underhanded things. After all, power is like a river that goes deeper the farther it goes. Someone must be there to pull them out in a case they drown. The things he planned to do were treasonous all on its own. And as a friend of your father- "
His back stiffened. His nerves coiled.
"You were no friend-"
"I am still your superior. And for your own sake, remain silent. Every thing you say will be accounted for." A shiver crept up his spine at the look in his eyes.
"I made sure to see it to it that his actions were notified. I used the hawks to send a scroll to Central." The younger man trembled. His shoulders sagged. His hollow eyes watching him. He felt the same way he felt back then. Like his whole world was being grinded to dust. The older man's face remained indifferent as if he were saying mere stories of the past. A past that didn't affect him.
"Even though you knew he would die as a result." His voice shook with emotion. The man continued to look onwards, not sharing the emotions.
"Ties and bonds with people are nothing but inhibitors to the law. If bonds and ties were put into consideration all the time, the whole society would be overrun by criminals. Your father had put it on himself. He knew the laws. He knew the punishment. Yet, he still did what he did. He would have paid for it sooner or later. I merely brought that punishment from later to sooner. If someone else had shown up, more of the islians at that time would have been executed." The younger man's lips were dry. He licked them, moistening them with the tip of his tongue.
"Now that those issues have been cleared," the younger man glared at him. "Lets talk about something of more.. interest. Maya." The younger man tensed even more, barely passing a breath past the bulging and strained muscles of his chest.
"Leave the girl out of this." The older mans interest piqued.
"I decide whether she will be involved or not." His tone was firm. The man's cold eyes took in his stature.
"By the looks of it, during my tour, I over heard a few people talking about how bad of a person she was. How frightening she got when angry. They said she has a very nasty temper, almost killed a few people. Is this correct?"
"I will not volunteer any information to you." He hissed as he turned his back to him.
"Some said they have seen you whip her with all sorts of objects. Sometimes, after your punishments, she comes out more bruised than before. So, just to be able to free yourself from the anger and pain, you abuse the girl for silly mistakes." He stiffened again. He felt icicles form within his joints. His pale face glistened from sweat. He turned abruptly. Anger shone in his eyes. He hit the table with a hand. The tea cup rattled once more.
"Those were no silly mistakes! She nearly killed children her age. When she's supposed to be playing with sand or somethin of that sort, shes pummeling her fist into other children," he paused, violently shaking with anger.
"I know you don't give a hoot about her. I know the reason you're being considerate all of a sudden. He watched him with a leveled gaze.
"That reason is only known to you. I only see myself acting in concern of your very disappointing actions towards the girl." The younger man ran a coarse hand down his face. His body shook. He shouted, kicking the wall. The rage inside him bubbled.
"So if your actions are questioned, you throw meaningless tantrums? You are even worse than your father." His hands clenched. The pain of his strained muscles circled through the blood of his hands. The itch to smack him resounded within him. The pleasure he would get from the action. The man scrutinized him the same way he did back when he was a child.
"You've got no right to judge me for my own actions! How I live my life is none of you're business." The older man shook his head.
"I see you are still as immature as you were back then." The younger man's cheeks heated up. His embarrassment dragged his anger farther and farther.
"Though," He started, his cold eyes lingering on him. "I do have a question that I have been contemplating." He paused. The silence around them was deafening. He stroked his chin for a few seconds then looked back at him. The younger man felt like his chest would explode from the pilling heat.
"The question is why have you kept her under your custody in all of this, despite knowing fully well that she is not your child?"
Mayas face blanched. Her hand raised slightly over the door knob. All the colour left her skin. She couldn't mistake the voices. There was no mistaking what she heard. She felt her heart race. Sweat pooled down her back. The question voiced by Diane's grandfather rang in her head.
She looked down at her hands. Her once tanned skin was now pasty. Almost sickly. She felt the torrent of confusion swamp through her. The dark assortment of thoughts conjured in her mind, glad for the chance. The vault within her mind crackled. Its dark contents paced between its tiny walls.
"I'm not accountable to you!" the man said from inside behind the wooden doors.
"Marvelous revelation, don't you think?" she heard a voice behind her. Her blood ran cold. Gavin. She turned to him.
"You knew." Her voice was barely above a whisper. Shaky. Hoarse. Her hands were shaking. Her eyes were desperate. His gray eyes glinted in mischief, a wide smile gracing his thin lips.
"Of course I knew, father let me on the big boys secret a few days ago." His smile widened again. Maya's knees quaked, the weight of the information too hard to bear.
"To think, mother merely gave you attention out of pity!" Gavin howled with laughter. Maya pulled on her hair, struggling. All she had been was baggage. Gavin's laughter and her emotions sent an earthquake, destroying what was left of her sanity. The hollow cloud in the vault broke free.
Its dark presence probed on her mind. It started as a spark. Then the flame of darkness filled her insides. The memories.
The girl lay on the floor. Her back facing the ceiling. The air was congested. Tears pooled down her eyes. Her vision swam in and out of focus. Her body remained still, any slight tremble sending waves of pain. The stench of singed flesh careered through her nostrils. The torch lay down next to her, dead from its use. The ashes covered the surrounding floor. A deep red mark stretched across her entire back, the flakes of her skin sprinkled all over the floor with blood. The deep red crimson liquid that accompanied her in her life and dreams.
"I always had a hunch that you didn't belong in our family." Gavins laughter pierced through the environment. He circled her trembling form. "Why, You suddenly look ill." he circled her with malicious eyes, reality ebbed away from her. Another memory dragged her down its murky waters.
"Listen to me! Shes just a child!" A feminine voice screamed. The older girl lay wiggling on the floor, her limbs aching from the whips. Her ears rung. Her heart pulsed rapidly from the pain. Every breath. Every flicker of movement was too hard to bear. "She's no child," The male voice said in quietness but the animosity spoke volumes." She's a monster."He spat. She then heard a flurry of footsteps behind her fallen frame. She tensed, instantly regretting it from the explosion of pain.
A hand grabbed her by her bloodied hair. Pain exploded in her head. She managed a whimper as she was pulled up. She tried to open her eyes but the reality around her seemed out of reach. Distant words were exchanged. Soon, another slash cut through the air. Her hair had been released. The deathly blow dug deep into her ugly tunic. It slammed into her torso with much force and hatred. Pain trampled her like a stampede of bulls.
She crumpled to the floor, coughing. Her back throbbed as blood left her lips. Her vision blurred, her chest racking with every beat of her heart. Her shoulders shook. The patches of blood on the floor, turned to the dark splotches that stroke her vision.
"-oh it was most fun learnin-"
"Get away from him!" The stern voice rose. A whip in his hand, he shot forward. The girl's little body flinched back, her face caught with terror.
"-you're nothing but a leech to everyone-"
"I will not allow this insolent child act as she pleases! Don't you see, you're encouraging her to continue on this path!" The loud voice boomed. The girl flinched despite being safely tucked in her room. Her heart hammered. Her eyes glistened. The guilt trampled on earlier embers of anger. She didn't deserve to live. A small whimper escaped her throat. The world seemed to close in on her.
"And you think trying to kill her will put her in line?" the quiet silky feminine voice said. There was silence.
"She deserves everything that's coming to her." the sound of the the door of her bedroom barging open flooded through her ears.
"-people like you belong-"
"Will mother really die?" She asked her father. He stood, his head against the wall. Fear kept her from coming near him. But the turmoil of urgency couldn't be quenched. Her shaking limbs rose from the floor. The man said nothing and turned around. He walked, the pounding footsteps echoing in the dark crevices of her mind, the fear and terror echoing down the corridor in response.
Yet, the urgency overtook her. She grabbed her fathers wrist. She flinched at the grunt but remained.
"Will mother die?" the silence set her on fire. She shook her head, her blonde hair looking more knotted than usual. Her urgency overshadowed the cold griping fear that encased her being. "Mother cant d- " A blister of pain swarmed at her. She fell onto her back, her face stinging. No tears came to her eyes. Her chest swam with pain. Her breathing hitched. She shuffled away, regretting her boldness. He looked menacingly at her.
"Well you cant die either! Things don't ever turn out the way we want, now do they? What I'd give for you to take her place!" Hurt flashed through her eyes. He turned away and stalked off. Her heart gasped at the pain. The overload crammed her insides. The cauldron piped up as it brew. Her vision wavered. Tears finally let loose as she pulled her knees into her chest, clutching onto the memory of her only companion as she sobbed.
They continued. Reality and the memories fought for dominance. Gavin's voice interjected dangerously, keeping up with the flurry of snide remarks. The memories rushed through her with their cohorts. The darkness of despair, pain and a hatred so deep that she could barely contain it. The world around flickered like the flame of a wilting torch.
Reality ebbed away as she became one with the memories. Giving into the most jagged details of experience then forced back down to reality. She gasped for breath. Her heart accelerated and seemed as though it would slam through her rib cage. Soon, she felt her head snap backwards. Pain exploded in her face. She jolted back to reality, shuffling helplessly on quaking knees.
A huff escaped her lips. Her stomach clenched. Her body jerked at the arm in her middle. Pain thrashed her torso. She crumpled to the floor, moaning. His words and yells deepened to an insufferable buzz. The colors all around her blurred. They overlapped and gruffly reshuffled, spiraling uncontrollably. Nausea washed over her.
She felt another pull. Her hair was being pulled on. Her body hung on to the beckon of the caller like a poppet.
Another jab to her neck. Less painful but enough to make her teeter. His words still remained distant. Her memories plagued the corridors of her mind. Dark and brooding, antagonizing her in an animalistic way. Her nerves coiled and recoiled. Smack after smack after smack, her body felt numb. The weight of her body been pulled around tiredly sunk through her. Her memories continued to cause their damage to the insides even as the assaulter did to their outsides. She felt her consciousness been dragged between the two phases.
She suddenly felt a hard object hit her stomach. She jolted. Pain exploded within her. Her vision blurred. She tried to roll away. Her rib bones thundered in protest. Her eyes cleared once again. Her vision remained stoic. And so did the pain seem real. The feeling of the coppery metal in her lips told her she was bleeding. The musk of blood congested her within its cage. She pushed back on her hands. Trembling, she shuffled away. Her vision tumbled and spiked, the mistiness swirling like a cloud.
She felt the cold trickle of blood from other wounds. She stirred completely from the haze. She grunted. She held up a hand to her stomach. She watched, through tunnel like vision, Gavin look at her with a crazed look. She pulled herself off the stone ground. Her hands slithered up the wall, wincing as they nimbly grabbed at tiny stones jutting out from the structure. Her other hand was pressed into her stomach which pulsated from pain. She gritted her teeth, struggling to keep her senses sharpened.
All her senses seemed at sea, her edge to fighting very much cut off. Everything came in and out. Darkening and brightening. The pain that ripped through her sides seemed to worsen with every second. Her scarred yet strong hand held on firmly, despite her brains failed attempt at control. She wheezed, the pain from the memories and the kicks. Her eyes watered. The reaction that she hadn't produced for five years suddenly happened. The liquid fell from tiny drops to rivulets. Her head spun. Her heaving worsened. The exertion. The fear. The torment. Her heart squeezed painfully. The past five years. The years before she had died. All the unsaid stories, pent up emotions and unexpressed thoughts conjured into these watery contents.
" You're crying?!" Gavin thundered from somewhere a little far off. "Animals like you don't cry! Get up and fight me like that animal! Isn't that all you're good for?!" The rumbling of murmurs careered around her. She tried to turn but she crumpled to the floor. Her body jerked with each flow, a part of her heart been laid in front of her. The dark spill of graying stones mixed with the beady seeds of blue. Other voices swarmed with each other in the background. Loud. Terse and painful to register. The shrill voices joined the cacophony of background noises.
She tried hard to stay awake. To fight through the pain. The turmoil. Then she felt something plunge into her temple. Her back arched forward. Her eyes snapped open. Spasms of headaches crackled. Her body fell onto the stone ground. The trickle of a liquid walked down her head. Footsteps padded away at the stone. Murmurs and surprised shrieks filled the air.
Her eyes suddenly closed, the grand rapids of waters sloshing through her. She found herself dragged by the waters that flew in the other direction. Away from consciousness with the hollow cloud of memories in hot pursuit. The darkness encased her soon after.
I want to thank God for giving me the Grace to write this. So her dad isn't her dad. Why do you guys think Tarrick really wants Maya to come, they seemed pretty vague about it. Vote and comment if you like.