The Orb of Deceit

Prologue

A snarl sent her heart plummeting, words spilling out of the man’s mouth like rushing riverwater. He yelled foul, unnerving things, those things focused on decreasing her self-esteem. Her confidence dimmed, so deeply that the words no longer pierced her; they trickled off of her skin, as if a barrier surrounded her. She endured it, as she had all those years, but something sparked. That something sparked as she slowly tilted her head up, looking at herself in the mirror behind the man, her father. She saw red, puffy eyes staring back at her. Dark circles shadowed under her eyes, her face pale and drained of emotion. As she looked into the mirror at herself, she saw a girl in need of freedom; of peace. Her father towered over her, spitting words in her face. Those words did not meet their mark.

She stood, and let him see the pure hatred and rage shining in her eyes. Let him see that she would endure this no more. No longer would she let a man drive her confidence into the ground. She was half his height, but she would not back down. Never had he put hands on her, and this would not be the moment he started. She fisted her hands at her sides, long-thought words tumbling through her thoughts. Nothing could describe everything she had felt those years, so she stuck with simple words. She did not regret those words, and she never would.

“Screw you, you half-hearted bastard”

And she walked out of that door, stepping into a world that welcomed her with opened arms.

Part one

She trembled, fingers burning with anticipation. This would be her big moment, and she would not let it go to waste. The vast majority in the audience were viewing men, who had come to see her ass get handed to her in the duels. Cheering rattled through the audience as her contestant came out, armed to the teeth with custom-made daggers and a Longsword strapped to his side. They were all for show. She held a Rapier, small enough for her to wield without lacking the needed properties. Two soulbound daggers rested at her sides, their weight making little difference in her stance as she faced her opponent. He was a bulky male with jet black hair cut short. Sharp cheekbones jutted from his face, his green eyes looking at her sharply; assessing her. Two could play this game. In a mocking gesture, she assessed him, something she had already done before him. Crossing her arms, she eyed him with a heartfelt stare. Surprisingly, he gave her a cocky grin. Game on. When the guards were done arming him, he stepped into the arena. To her utter astonishment, he grinned and dropped his daggers, leaving him with his Longsword only. Viewers murmured, some clapping and his bravery. A scoff escaped her mouth, and she readied her stance. Out of the corner of her eye, leather was waved in the air. She pounced, like a mountain cat attacking her prey, and he caught her blow to blow.

Part two

Rage set off inside of her as she danced the battle of dueling. She blocked, throwing a counterfeit blow with her dominant hand and struck his face with her left. She heard a delightful crack come from his nose, and she relished in it. And they kept dueling. Blow for blow, punch for punch. He grinned, but it was not one of malice, but one of amusement. A prick— a ballsy prick was what this man was. But, she had to give him credit. The handiwork of his blade was immaculate, as if Grélak, the God of Weaponry and War, forged it himself.

As she fought this man, her body began to cramp. Strike meets strike, and they both tire as their battle goes on. They fought viciously, and she ended up getting a swipe in underneath his legs, and watched him plummet. Immediately, she was pinning him to the arena ground. Silence. The crowd was silent. Awe-struck faces gaped as the leather flag waved in victory, her victory. She looked down, and the man flashed a toothy grin. Scoffing, she stood and walked out of the arena.

Hours after the duel, she sat on her balcony. Even though ancient law guaranteed duelists lodging, as long as they served the King of Treval, lodging would be bought. Pay was not high in the city, causing prices to skyrocket. Even City Centre, a mass trade centre with cheap priced goods, skyrocketed their prices. She huffed at her thoughts, and began to still her mind. I sway with the wind, as the wind sways with me. Her thoughts became one, filled with only that sentence. As a child, her mother taught her how to hone all of her anger as a weapon, one to unleash with no restraint at the right time. To achieve this stillness of her mind took much practice, as thoughts were infinite. She practiced this for years, stilling her mind and becoming one with her anger and resentment, and finally achieved it the year of her mother’s passing.

With few thoughts remaining, she managed to get up and stride to the bathing room. Inside was a tub, smaller than usual but still better than nothing. As the tub filled, she examined herself. She couldn’t describe herself. Her dark brown hair reached down just below her breasts, while her body was curvy in all the right places. Tight cheekbones, and large green eyes brought her face together. A small nose, plump lips, small eyebrows, and a ton of freckles were just the side pieces. She lost all sense of shame and self-hate when she left that monster. Shuddering, she dipped in the steaming tub, hissing as the hot water met her scrapes. And, as she bathed, slid on a night dress, and got into her bed, she couldn’t help but feel this tug of hope; hope that she would duel her way to the king, to her way out.

_________

He stood next to her, his dark brown eyes staring into her as he gripped her arm fiercely and dragged her to meet the son of a high lord in Halenvurg. She got shoved into the room, the attention of High Lord Faren and his mistress on her. Scowling at her father, her eyes locked with a handsome man in the corner with a permanent ‘I don’t want to be here at all’ scowl written all over his face. A birthmark the shape of a star was just above his eyebrow. She had to admit, he was good looking. They had been trying to force her to marry for months, ever since her eleventh birthday (which was WAY too young, but anything for another sack of coins!). As her father and the high lord talked, she began a mild conversation with the son, whose name turned out to be Raix. He sat with her, and they bickered and bonded over their hellbent parents who want to earn a couple more coins.

“We should be friends, Raix!” She said enthusiastically, holding out her hand.

“Agreed, Anador!” He grabbed her hand in approval, and gave her a crooked smile.

That was the last time she saw him. The next day, the Faren family was robbed, and in the act the thief’s were caught and fumbled, killing the whole family.

_________

She awoke from the memory to find sun filtering through the curtains of her balcony. She frequently has detailed dreams of past memories, though most aren’t pleasant. Though, her heart ached at the friend she once had, the one who wrote to her that night and said that their friendship would last forever. She stumbled out of bed, blinking hazily as she strode to the closet and picked out a tight, casual sea blue dress with buttons in the front and a small flow of ruffles out of the bottom. She undressed, and threw on the dress. Stalking out of her lodge, she took in the forest around her. The city was in a clearing west of her, the cheapest lodging being out in the forest. She walked the trail to the city slowly, taking in her scenery, when a figure stepped out from behind a tree. In a smooth action, she flicked out a dagger she’d had stashed in the ruffles, but not fast enough. He was on her immediately, her wrists in his callused hands. She looked up, meeting his gaze, to see the prick from the duel. Bruised eye and all. She snarled at him, trying to free her hands.

“Get your filthy hands off me” she said softly, but with a cold stare at him.

He grinned, but did not let her go. “Sorry princess, no can do. Orders specifically say not to!”

She flinched, orders? Using the strength she could, she pushed up and kicked him in the stomach, sending him reeling back.

“What orders?” She flicked out a second dagger, facing her attacker.

“Oh, you know, the orders I was given” he said, grinning, as if the shove didn’t affect him.

“Whose orders? Who are you working for?Who are you?” She circled him, dagger still in hand.

He stood still for a moment, looking at her with a thoughtful expression. “You don’t remember me, Ana?”

This time, it was her who stood still. She hadn’t used that name in years, in fear of being found. She studied him, looking at his facial features. Spotting a birthmark by his eyebrow, her eyes widened. “Raix?” She said softly, the dagger in her hand seeming irrelevant. He grinned, stepping closer to her. She shook her head slightly, earning a hurt look from him.

“Raix… who are you working for?” She spoke softly, looking at her previous friend.

“I’m working for the King of Griall, Ana. I’m working for your father.”