Belvedor and the Four Corners (Belvedor Saga Book 1) (13 page)

White rose petals fall through me from the dark abyss above, layering my body below. A plain stone cross hovers in the night as if hung by some invisible string attached to a star. ‘May Freedom Find You in Death’ is carved into the stone.

The stranger melts away into the darkness, leaving my body alone in this open grave. His monstrous laughter still echoes off the walls of the mountains, off the walls in my head. “At least you’re one with your sword,” I note in my ghost-like state. Then I am gone.

CHAPTER TEN

“What are you doing awake at this hour?” an old man asked as he kicked the snow off his boots. He let his cloak billow to the wood-grained floor.

“It’s nearly dawn,” said a young girl as she retrieved the fallen robes. She hung them on a brass hook between the door and the circular, glass-paned window. 

“I allow you to live here on one condition, you mind your own business. Do you recall this conversation?” said the man with a yawn. His tiredness made his would-be-stern voice sound lazy and unguarded.

“I believe I do,” said the girl. “But I’m also inclined to mention that I’ve always risen with the sun, as you well know. I have no interest in your late night endeavors. In fact,
Master
, I wouldn’t even be receiving a chastising from you if you got a decent night’s sleep.” She wagged a finger in his face, and a smile played on her rosy lips.

“Oh, bother. I’m too tired to play at your wit. I’m off to bed. Don’t wake me,” he said with a wave of his hand as he sauntered to a backroom where a soft bed awaited him.

She returned to relax by the sizzling fire.

“And if you’re going to be waking up at the crack of dawn,” he called from his room, “you might as well do something productive with your extra time. Practice yesterday’s lesson. And it’s about time you refill the prillyberries.” His door slammed, vibrating the wood panels beneath her.

“Yes, Master Churry,” she said with less than enthusiasm. Donning clean, blue robes and orange-tinted boots, she left the house.

Lessa Thur blinked her eyes, adjusting to the new light. The snow glittered at this time of day. Nevertheless, she wished it to disappear. She yearned for the warmth of the sun on her pale skin and for the kiss of heated wind on her face. This icy wonderland numbed her nerves and bit at her cheeks. She yanked up the blue hood of her cloak.

Trekking through the snow, she speculated about her master’s latest adventure. He always disappeared into the night these days. The dark man appeared nearly a month ago, calling at their doorstep in the middle of the night. Since then, Talis snuck off on a regular basis. She assumed for a similar purpose.

Of course, Talis knew that she took notice of his absences. She noticed everything, but she dare not question him. She knew he felt burdened enough by her, and she didn’t want to cause any more trouble. Regardless, she was a slave of the Jar. Her place was not to question her master.

Mulling over her bittersweet predicament, she recalled the day of her fifteenth year celebrations when Talis Churry named her as his apprentice.

“Slave number twenty, come to the front,” said a bored woman as she read the roster at the front of the panel. A young Lessa made her way up to the center, kicking pebbles as she went. She looked up towards the elders. Behind them, on a wall, unfolded hands cupped a golden snake marking the healer’s crest.

“Would you like to be my apprentice?” asked a fragile-looking man named Talis Churry.

 She considered him for a moment, but her distaste grew palpable. “Do I have a choice?” she replied with sarcasm lacing her lips.

“You always have a choice,” said Talis.

Lessa scoffed at this absurd statement but decided to play along with his odd grip on reality. “What do you offer?” she asked in a honeyed voice.

 Talis peered down at her with water-colored eyes from a pedestal with the rest of the panel, and Lessa felt her skin
flush as she met the stares of everyone around her. She didn’t like the attention. She shouldn’t even be asking questions without permission.

For a long moment, Talis regarded her, pondering her question as he stroked his mustache. “Why, aren’t you the cautious one?” he said, astonished at her audacity in front of so many elders and regulators.

Lessa opened her mouth to retort but caught a regulator’s threatening gaze. She let her mouth close as she registered the warning, dropping her eyes to the floor. Talis roared in laughter, leaning forward from his chair to get a better look.

He cleared his throat and began to speak, trying to contain his amusement. “I offer you mastery in the art of healing and survival. I offer you the best chance at earning your freedom.  I offer you advice and knowledge of the unknown. And, what is more, I offer you the world. Do these placate your needs, Lessa Thur?” An impenetrable silence hung in the air as she tasted the words Talis fed her.

Their eyes met as she lifted her timid gaze from the floor at the mention of her name, and she saw herself mirrored in his glassy stare. 

Talis smiled, reassuring himself of something.

“I accept,” she said in a quiet voice, humbled by his promises and the regulator at her back.

“Good. You begin tomorrow. Dismissed.”

A wolf howled in the distance, breaking Lessa’s reverie, and she picked up the pace.

She walked towards a tall building, the Dining Hall. She pushed the swinging doors open, but nobody sat on the benches this early. The musty smell of grime brewing filled her nose, so she peeked through the door of the kitchen and saw a team of bustling men and women wearing light orange uniforms and hats.

A man looked up and eyed her. “Hey, you there. What business do you have in here? Two more hours ‘til the kitchen’s open! You better get moving if you know what’s good for ya!” He waved a wooden spoon dripping with goop in her face.

Lessa sank back at the confrontation and scurried out. “Sorry,” she muttered. The door swung closed behind her.

She reached the entrance of the Dining Hall but turned, feeling the burn of eyes on her back, to find the same man tiptoeing behind her with a smile on his pudgy face. “Here you go, Lessa,” he said. He plopped a juicy, red apple in her hand. “Now, quit poking your face around here before you get us both in trouble.” He gave her a wink and turned to leave.

Her eyes widened in delight at the sight of such a delicious treat. “You had me fooled that time, Nico. Thanks!”

“Anytime!” He waved her off as he ran back through the kitchen doors. She slipped back out into the bitter air, sinking her teeth into the sweet skin of the apple and savoring every bite.

Eager to reach the Field, she ambled up the hilly street. There she could relax a bit while she waited for the town to buzz with life. Picking prillyberries didn’t rattle her mind as much as trying to get Talis’ concoctions just right. She sulked at the thought of anymore training as she marched onwards.

Talis believed Lessa to have a knack for remedies after observing the excellent display at her fifteenth year ceremony. For the past two and a half years, they trained day and night, preparing for the Free Falls Festivals. Talis seemed very pleased with her progress, but the problem came with her other talent—a knack for finding trouble.

Her smart mouth came on rare occasions but never at a good moment, and the regulators punished her for it repeatedly.

In the Healer’s District, the King implemented a punishment called the Poison Cure with the idea that he could ‘cure’ the insolent slaves of their dishonorable behavior for future endeavors. That is, if they survived the poison. If they didn’t… “Then obviously they were not worthy of freedom. Hail to the King!” once declared her general. Twice she suffered from the Poison Cure but endured it nonetheless. Her two-time miraculous survival shocked and awed even the elders.

Memories of the excruciating pain still lingered as bitter reminders to her place in life, but somehow trouble still managed to track her down. Talis agreed to take full responsibility of her actions at the turn of her seventeenth year for fear they might put her to death. He claimed he valued Lessa’s life because he’d put so much time and effort into her training and that her skill proved superior to her peers. The general only granted his wishes since Talis’ reputation as a respectable healer was well known in the community.

Lessa felt ashamed because she knew she held a place in his old heart. She couldn’t bear to disappoint him further. Besides, she lived a luxurious life after being permitted to live in a trainer’s quarters instead of the barracks clinging to the mountainside.

She smiled at the kindness he showed her and focused her mind on the pebbled path to the Field. This part of the small city signified the only place in the Healer’s District with some life to it. She walked a few more minutes, winding up the streets, passing the perfectly lined-up quarters of all the other slaves as she climbed.

She came upon a gate of wood encircling a vast, hilly area. Swinging the gate free, she clambered up the rocky length of land until she stood on a flat plain. A non-spectacular view of the whole district spread out before her. Large buildings dotted the barren land with little to linger on and finely groomed slaves began to trickle out into the streets. The view didn’t stretch very far before the walls of Blancoren came into sight. Still, it made her itch to see more.

The ground here hid under a blanket of snow. Large, black trees shot up from the earth, high into the sky, making intrusions on the clean, white ground. With long, thick branches, they looked as if some sort of monstrous creature clawed its way out of the mountainside.

Lessa walked half the length of the area, and a large boulder came into view. She hid the bow Talis had gifted her there since the King prohibited weapons within her district. She practiced, in seclusion, at Talis’ discretion, and the trees gave perfect cover for flying arrows. She gave the boulder a longing stare but continued walking. Today, she just wished to relax in the height of the trees.

Lessa tilted her head back, staring to the treetops. Covering the black, snow-clattered branches, layers and layers of fluorescent green prillyberries hung. As a key ingredient for Talis’ remedial recipes, she would need to gather a lot. At her feet, various ladders lay buried in the rising snow, but Lessa preferred the old-fashioned way of climbing.

With Talis not there with disapproving eyes, she grabbed hold of the lowest limb. Placing her foot steady at the base, she climbed her way up the tallest tree in the middle of the thicket.

Up, higher and higher she went. The wind stung her face and whipped her hair about her head. Her blonde locks turned wavy at the disruption. “There we go!” she huffed with one last lunge into the air.

Perched on top of a branch as thick as her body, she straddled it and let her robes fly behind her in the wind. The air felt crisp and refreshed her skin, and the view started to have some appeal to it.