Winter's Child

TWELVE YEARS LATER “Nyx, get out of my way. You are a no-good little girl.” I was shoved roughly down onto the floor as Beren stomped passed me. Ryn laughed and spat down at me on his way to follow his brother and father out the front door. Beren was always telling me to make sure I stayed out of his way. He liked nothing about me. He said I was a bastard and didn’t belong in this family. He was six years older than me, and Ryn was four years older. Both Beren and Ryn not only looked and acted exactly like their father, but they also repeated whatever he said. My Uncle Harold hated me and told me so every day. I was glad they were fishermen because that meant they would leave early each morning, and although they did return to port during the heat of the day, they most often spent the remainder of the afternoon and early evening at the local tavern. Aunt Brendania mostly acted like I was one of her own. But she was not a loving person, not exactly coldhearted, but she didn’t bestow hugs to anyone. Uncle Harold and both my cousins wouldn’t acknowledge me as family. They told everyone that I was a bastard child my aunt took pity on. I was instructed to never call them my family or use the terms uncle or aunt, only Harold or Brendania, but Brendania would often allow me to call her aunt when we were at home alone. Harold once attempted to take my gold medallion away from me on the day I turned seven. It burned and blistered his hand when he tried to grasp it. Since it never burned me, he told me to remove it and give it to him. But I had never been able to take it off. Harold was furious. He whipped me with his belt, saying I deserved it for the waste of good gold, and he sent me to bed without supper that night. In truth, I believed Harold was afraid that I might actually have magic in my blood and of what my inherited magic might someday become. I was stronger and faster than either of my cousins by the age of ten, though if I ever fought back when they attacked me, Harold would whip me. I have scars on my back from when I turned eleven to remind me of it. It was on that day, as I laid sprawled on my stomach while Brendania applied cool cloths to my back, I began telling myself I was stone. Stone could not feel pain or love; therefore, I built stone walls around my heart. I also learned to conceal my true self. I didn’t wish to stand out any more than I already did. There was one talent I displayed that Harold did not complain about. I learned languages quickly. Everyone learned to speak the common tongue to some degree. But my memory was excellent, and when the merchants from other nations docked at our port to trade for their wares or because they needed to restock on fresh water, I caught on to their speech well enough to converse with them. I could sell more of Harold’s fish than the other fishermen selling at the dock. There was one older merchant who would sail into our port sporadically, and he told me I had a good ear and a sharp mind. That was the first real complement I had ever received. Everyone called him ‘Old Shmoopy,’ and he bought fish only from Harold’s catch, because I could communicate and translate for him. Most of the people in my village believed that those with magic should be sent to be used in our army. Some even went so far as to say magic users and I quote ‘The evil ought to be exiled.’ Without a doubt, they feared what they didn’t understand. Ever since we heard that King Avery had started a search throughout our Kingdom of Gallic for any undocumented magic users, Harold had become worse. No one knew why the King wanted more mages, but no one questioned the King. Our kingdom held four provinces, each governed by a Duke or an Earl, either related to the King or appointed by him. King Avery’s castle was located in the Western Province, while our small village was in the Eastern Province. Harold seemed to hope I would have shown some kind of magic ability by now, so he could get rid of me. He assumed he could even make some coin off me. Everyone had heard the tales about those few found with magic; their family received gold from the king. Sometimes they would receive a generous payment. Harold repeated loudly and often that Brendania would have had more children if I hadn’t come into their lives. He wanted more sons and said I was a curse upon his family. But I knew Brendania was thankful that she only had two sons. I watched her add bitterroot, known to prevent pregnancy, into her tea every morning after Harold would leave for the port. Harold ordered her around, called her names, and had absolutely no respect for her. And her sons treated her just as badly. But Brendania was a good tailor, so Harold expected her to work and earn coin by sewing clothes for the villagers. That meant she spent many of her days mending and stitching to bring in extra spending money for Harold’s personal use. She was forced to keep the home, cook, sew, and meet his every need without question. Brendania never saw even one denarius from her seamstress work because Harold took it all. I may not have been able to call her aunt in public, but Brendania sometimes let me know she appreciated my help with the cooking and cleaning. She was teaching me how to sew and letting me help with the simple mending. I dreamed she would leave Harold, and we would move away on our own. I never really felt loved by Brendania, but I did sense she liked having me around, if only to keep Harold’s focus on me instead of her. Today I intended to disregard all the rules and chores that had oppressed me for so long. Last evening, Master Mage Talon arrived at the Inn in our village. No one had been sure if King Avery would even send an envoy to our tiny village to check for magic users; I was thankful that one was here. Our port on the Black Sea was small and shallow. None of the King’s larger ships ever landed here. It was my understanding that the Black Sea surrounded the entire continent of Elysium, and there were many important ports. Our small port was considered the least within our kingdom. Master Talon was one of ten mages chosen by the king and dispatched throughout the kingdom to test for anyone who might have magic. Hoping that my future would be changing, I ran down the path, eager to be one of the first tested. My aunt had revealed to me when I was eight that I might have some magic because of my mother’s elven blood. Brendania told me to never tell anyone and to trust no one with this knowledge. Brendania also claimed that my mother thought she had somewhere between a quarter to a full half of elven blood running through her veins. At least that is what Winter had told Brendania when she first returned, heavily pregnant with me. I believed it, for my ears were more pointed than any in our village. Not obviously elongated like the drawings of the elves that I had seen, but then again, not the normal rounded tops of those in our village. My fair alabaster skin was so noticeably light at times it seemed to have a pearly shine; at other times, my complexion seemed to have a gray pallor to it. The good thing about my skin was that it never sunburned, unlike others in my village. The village children made fun of my looks anytime I was out. Almost everyone here in our village had brown hair and eyes, with darker brown skin tones like the color of my aunt’s morning tea. My dark crimson hair, fair skin, and icy blue eyes surrounded by black lashes always drew unwanted attention. To add to my woes, I was tall for my age, all gangly arms and legs. Harold had declared it would be stupid to waste a good fishing day just to be tested for magic that he already knew his sons didn’t have. He had left earlier than usual this morning, eager to be away from the village, taking Beren and Ryn with him on their small fishing boat just as the sun was rising over the sea. About an hour after sunrise, we heard a piercing trumpet sound. It was a call to all the villagers to gather at the central fountain. The crowd quieted when Master Mage Talon stepped out of the inn. He had a long gray beard and was wearing a black robe with red trim. It billowed with the wind as he began walking down our village’s only cobblestoned street. Flanking him on each side was a Knight of the King’s army. They both wore the black and yellow tabard with the Crest of King Avery. Each wore their sword low on their waist. When the group reached the central fountain, they stopped and turned outward to face the crowd. One of the Knights was lean and very tall, with black hair. The other was stocky, broad, bald, with light brown skin and a goatee. There was also a young woman wearing a gray robe who had green eyes, butter blonde hair, and freckles across her nose. She was clutching a writing tablet and positioned herself behind the Knights. With a loud, clear voice that immediately stopped all the conversations, Master Mage Talon exclaimed, “Good folk of Little Reef, you have been summoned here today by order of King Avery, for the purpose of finding potential magic users.” The people closest to the tall Knight heard him mutter, “I doubt there could ever be one drop of magical blood in this tiny backwater village.” Master Mage Talon frowned, giving the tall Knight an intense you-shut-up glance before continuing, “Everyone between the ages of ten and thirty, please form a line on the west side of the fountain. Give your name and age to Apprentice Lara, and then you will step into the circled ring for testing.”