Belvedor and the Four Corners (Belvedor Saga Book 1)
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Authors: Ashleigh Bello
AND THE
FOUR CORNERS
BELVEDOR AND THE FOUR CORNERS
Copyright © 2014 by
Ashleigh Bello
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
For more information visit: www.ashleighbello.com
First Edition: December 2014
ISBN-13: 978-1503371019
ISBN-10: 1503371018
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
For Grandma Farley
Who filled my life with love
And showed me how to share it with the world
Rest in Paradise
&
For the World
Who is the inspiration of my imagination
And always reminds me that magic will always exist
CONTENTS
BELVEDOR
AND THE
FOUR CORNERS
CHAPTER ONE
Slave
. She cringed as the word ricocheted through her mind, a testimony of her unfortunate status. Of course, everyone in Olleb-Yelfra suffered the same endless beginning, born with the weight of shackles until their eighteenth year. Get in, survive, and get out. That was the only thing on everyone’s mind in her world.
Arianna knew only the tiniest of threads needed cut to rip away all she had worked for since she stepped foot in her prison, the City of the Four Corners. There were so many ways to die in that dreadful place, so many ways to fail. So she trained hard, holding tight to her thread of life.
She scrunched her eyes closed as her roommates roused her awake. “Just five more minutes.” She buried her face in her pillow, trying to block out the world.
A bell sounded, and, even from the city center, the echoes of the brass rang out loud and clear. She groaned as the sound filled her head, heralding the start of another dawn she couldn’t escape.
“You heard the bell. Now, get up! Ten minutes to get in line, or it’s the Pit!”
Arianna rolled her eyes at the regulator harassing the girls out of bed. Ticking down the days in her head, she took deep, long breaths. In just a few months’ time, her eighteenth year would pass, and she would become a contender in the Free Falls Festivals. She took another deep breath. Just a few more months.
She pushed the covers to her feet and sat up in bed, stretching her sore muscles. A shudder rolled across her skin at the sudden temperature change, or was it the thought of the Free Falls that made her shiver? It was such bittersweet thought. Arianna knew what the festivals stood for; ‘Free’ for the slaves who earned their citizenship and ‘Falls’ for the ones who died. If she was honest with herself, she knew most people would never earn their freedom. Olleb-Yelfra existed on the backs of wise, able-bodied citizens because the Free Falls weeded out the weak ones, or so claimed the King. But really, who was ever truly honest with themselves these days?
She shook her head and pushed aside her nerves for later. Today, she needed to focus on her training with Solomon. She relaxed a little, thinking of her master, of the man who would make sure she could survive the festivals.
“Get moving,” said the regulator in a tired voice. Arianna climbed down from her bunk, the wood floor chilling her toes as she dressed quickly. After pulling on her boots, she moved to where cloaks hung on a wall near the door. A deep red colored the fabrics and silver numbers embroidered the shoulder of each. Arianna searched for hers. There… number twenty-two. Her mouth set into a grim line as she studied the number, her hand stroking the old cloth.
My name is Arianna Belvedor.
She yanked the robe off the hook and draped it around her shoulders so she didn’t have to stare at the number another moment longer. The heavy fabric warmed her skin, sweeping the floor as it fell down around her body. Floor boards creaked as the thirty other girls that shared the household assembled at the door. Arianna fell in line behind the regulator. “Let’s go.” She didn’t want to, but he pushed open the door, and they marched out into the cold, one by one.
There was no preparing yourself for that kind of cold, the sort that finds its way into your bones and sores your eyes. Snow bit at her skin and dotted her dark hair white, the same as any day. She pulled her hood around her head to shield her face as she gazed towards the sky. Morning dawned behind the gray clouds, but no sun could be found. Not shocking in the least as the sun was quite shy in these parts. Lowering her eyes to the ground, Arianna wished for just a little proof that the yellow bulb of light still existed behind the gray. As much as she disliked a cloudy sky, the view of the ashen-faced mountains that encased the Four Corners made her sick. Not physically sick, but imagine being forced to stare at the same, dull backdrop all day, every day, for a lifetime. That’s how she felt… if one can imagine.
The mountains that made her cringe so very much were impossible to ignore at almost any moment spent outside. They trapped the city in a wide, jagged cage with perilous peaks reaching towards the skyline like a claw, locking in the gray and barring out the sun. It created the perfect prison, and it earned the city a nickname, ‘Jar of Stone’.
Thousands of other slaves marched, in silence, alongside Arianna under the darkened sky, under the watch of the mountains, the snow turning brown under their boots as they slushed to the beat. In a crimson flock, they passed the many crumbling buildings that made up the small district until a deep hole spread out before them. Arianna stiffened.
The slaves maneuvered around the Pit with ease, their breath hitched in their throats out of respect for the deceased slaves. Arianna glanced down as they passed. Why did she always have to look? She strained to see so far down with no help from the imaginary sun, but she glimpsed some of the skeletons glinting in the dark. Needle-like rocks and the rotting bodies of young slaves who disrespected the law lined the bottom, putting on a very memorable display for any slave who considered straying from obedience.
“Hey! You wanna join ‘em?” Like Hell she did.
Arianna jumped as the voice shattered the silence. The fearful eyes of her peers watched as a regulator came to her side, grabbing hold of her arm and halting the line behind them.
“There somebody down there you’d like to see, twenty-two?” She could think of a few names.
The regulator moved closer so that half her body hovered over the Pit as his fingers dug deep into her skin. If he let go of her arm, she would surely fall to her death. Arianna’s eyes widened as she looked down, her curiosity fleeting away in terror as the sunken faces of the dead stared back. From this angle, she could see the bottom of the Pit with more clarity. She prayed, oh how she prayed, not to get any closer to that fate.
The regulator stepped back and let her go as a throaty laugh escaped his lips. She looked up, and he raised an eyebrow at her, waiting for an answer. She flinched and shook her head. “No.” Her whisper was sucked down into the darkness of the catacomb beneath her, and every time her heart beat she thought it might jump right out of her chest to follow.
“Then eyes forward.” He poked her in the shoulder, on her double-digit identity, gesturing for her to keep walking. Her knees shook as she moved her feet, one after the other. She lowered her head to the ground until they arrived at the city center — the Square.
They passed under a low bridge, and a wide, open area stretched out around them, slaves pouring in from all sides. High stone steps encircled the area, creating an amphitheater-like structure with pillars at the top. Arianna found the nerve to lift her eyes from the ground, and she peered to the sky, past the crumbling pillars and past the people below.
Wind pounded against a raised flag that rose high above the crowd at the front. She studied the embroidery while she waited for instructions. Faded reds, blues, purples, and greens weaved into segments. She knew them by heart all too well. They formed a circle which signified the emblem of the Four Corners and the four districts within the city.
Like any other day, the regulators ushered the slaves into lines facing an elevated platform, a wide, black-marble structure which towered over the crowd at the front of the amphitheater. Today, Arianna stood in front, wishing she could be anywhere else. She raised her eyes to the stage as General Ivo surveyed the red sea of prisoners from under his hood.
