Blood Marked

A drop of rain splattered on her cheeks as a trembling of thunder passed through the muted grey skies.

“Is it going rain again?” She wondered over the shouting of the crowd. Mud stained her face and covered her short trim tufts of black hair. She always made sure to keep her hair short. Long hair had problems. It took too long to groom and often or not tended to have lice or some other bugs crawling around. She would not be shaving her head bold for a third time.

The yelling of the crowd grew distant as Liza took a deep breath and watched it congeal before her. She dared not turn to look at the crowd and only awaited the shadows to disappear from the corners of her eye as the rain began fall harder.

Finally, she got up from the ground and wiped some mud from her face. The rest would be washed away by the rain. She looked around and most, if not all of the townsfolk were gone. She was not sure as there were still some people who looked at her with scorn prancing about.

People ran from the rain covering their heads as others retreated into the safety of their homes until finally she was left all alone in the city’s southern market. The stalls around her were deserted by their merchants who sought to protect their wares.

Only the hard desk of the military recruiters sat occupied, his loath filled eyes trained on her as he was bathed but did not move.

‘Idiot’ She thought. ‘So much for discipline if this was where it got you.’

Liza exited the desolate scene down the long stretch of flagstone road nearly overlooking the city wall as it slanted and the misted farmsteads which bordered dense forest far and yonder.

The streets were not all deserted as she walked by. Children laughed and played in the wet puddles formed by the pouring drizzle at the dismay of their parents who shouted at them. Yet as she passed the children ceased their joyful laughter. Their faces now filled with dislike and stone cold hatred.

“What are you looking at?” a young girl with red hair and a gap in her teeth scolded with displeasure.

Liza only gave a crooked smile, lowering her head as she marched away. Too young to war with. She thought. She could reach the child’s throat before a scream of terror echoed out yet it would do no good. Just another ghost to lug around.

The walls rose several hundred arm spans into the sky long, towering over surrounding dwellings and roads. They were big, too big for mere raiders and armies of men. It was as if they were meant to keep out giants and Aldruachs from olden wives’ tales.

‘Who would believe such drivel anymore?’ She was too old to believe anymore. This year, In about three moons, she would be fourteen. Not too young anymore.

Plight city had stretched on for several leagues into the surrounding lands. Head city of the iron clan lands. Settlements encompassed it. Towns and small villages. Smoke rising from their sooty chimneys and their hearths.

Amid the settlements, the stone roads and raining most, towers stood erect and glitsened with metallic sheen.

She trotted out the town gates, wet and soaked in rain. The armored sentry only cast her a passing glance, scoffing. She headed down, towards the river bridge which sat at the edge of all civilization. Where scant buildings stood erect and there was only forest, lush grass and trees.

Thunder rumbled in the skies.

“Lowes!” A passing man cursed suddenly and spat on the side of the road as he saw her. His eyes filled with a fury as he looked at her.

‘It happens every day.’ She told herself. She didn’t retort, didn’t stop him nor turn to look at him with hate or loathe. She only kept her head down and kept walking.

“Ah!” Liza screamed as a stone flew from afar and landed a concussive blow on her face. She lost her footing and stumbled down onto the side of the road, into the mud again. Blood oozed from where the stone had grazed her. Liza staunched the wound with her mud soaked hand as she turned and could not believe her eyes. A child threw that stone. A young boy with dark soaked hair and bright green eyes, ‘only a few years younger than me.’

The mother stood by his side, a paper umbrella shielding her as she watched coldly. Her eyes filled with the same fury of the passing man before. “Enough Sammy!” She dragged her child away, not in sympathy but unwillingness to stain her child’s supposed innocence with Liza’s presence.

Liza clenched her fingers as she watched the two climb up the road. She bit her lips, her tongue twisting in her mouth but she did not speak a word.

A clopping of hooves against wet stone drew close as a carriage hurried to a slow before her.

“You there, peasant. Do you know the path to the house of Korren?” Asked the coachman in red robes, his hair tied behind him in a horse-like tail. Funny, his face looked horse-like. His black eyes looked at her with empty indifference as if she was but cold blowing air.

“Lin, how can you speak to a child this way?” The carriage door swung open as the deep masculine voice arose. Liza could only catch a glimpse of black boots with white soles as she felt weightless being hoisted up by steady hands. The man wore a blue silk robe and white pants, tied together by a belt. His black hair similar to the coachman’s was tugged behind him in a braid.

His eyes were a lighter blue. His gaze piercing as he caught her wary apprehension of him and let go of her to stand on her own. There was no contempt and malice in his eyes. She looked at him, still feeling the heat of his arms tucked beneath her shoulders.

The rain continued to shower. Now on the both of them.

“Are you alright?”

Liza nodded. She didn’t speak to strangers, not even kind ones as she knew how this always played out. He spoke with an accent, some words watered down and wrongly intoned. From his strange clothes, she could tell he was not from here.

‘They look like uncle Mildrith’s. A southerner? From the southern provinces?’ He only seemed several years older than her as thick stubble sprouted under his chin.

“Now then,” he reached into his robes and tossed her something. With a twang! It flew towards her, glinting in the grey light. Liza lunged forward and caught it with both arms.

It was a gold coin. She had never seen much of any currency from the southern provinces. This coin was round with a square cut into the middle and long characters engraved in four directions atop the coin.

“Y-Young Master?” Lin, the coachman stammered his eyes wide and resting on the golden coin with greed. Why would his master hand money to this lesser thing that was not even accepted by its own clan?

“Y-Young master, She’s a—”

“Hush you!” The Young man stopped him. “Child, can you please lead the way. We will offer you our deepest gratitude.”

Liza, looked at the man then turned to the coin. ‘Is it real gold?’ She wondered and took a bite. It tasted of cold metal and a bitter salty sting like acid. It didn’t bend nor did it have teeth marks after she was done nibbling.

‘It’s real gold!’ Her heart thumped heavy in her chest until Liza grew suspicious. This was a little too far-fetched. She had never believed in the fables of princes coming to the aid of a broken maiden. Especially not for someone of her kind.

‘Will I get more gold if I follow?’ She weighed the risk and decided. “I-”

“Wen-child, return to carriage at once.” Another voice came from the carriage and choked the words in her throat. It was lax and mellow as if a gentle brook flowing down stream. Keen black eyes peeked from behind the carriage curtain and rested on her shoulders. More precisely on her neck beneath the shadows of her jaw.

‘She saw it!’ Liza flinched and covered her neck taking a step back from the man.

Wenli was appalled by the naked fear in her and his mother’s attitude.

“But mother—”

“I said now!” She said in a growl and Wenli trembled.

He gazed at Liza reluctant but returned to carriage. The coachman looked down Liza with deep seated contempt swirling in his eyes. Humph! He retorted to her eyeing gaze. He would not debase himself to rob a beggar even if the reward was worth it.

Within the dimly lit carriage, Wenli faced his mother. Her features the same as his yet her eyes different, a shade of black. Her dark silk-smooth obsidian hair was braided with a jasper pin slid in to hold it in place. She had soft features yet a stony rigid air about her that purged any childishness in them.

“Mother, why did you stop me from helping her?”

Ruth raised her thin brow and studied her child. She knew him all too well. His fretting eyes meant he would not cease till he aided that poor thing standing in the eave of the rain. She pointed out the carriage to Liza “Look at where she places her hand. She tries conceal it.”

Wenli followed her gaze as Liza removed her hand from her neck ready to walk away. He now saw with vivid clarity, a tattoo as red as blood etched on her tanned skin. It flowed down into her dirty flax shirt and he was sure even though he had not seen entirely, the mark encompassed her back, flowing down the ridges of her spine to her waist.

“Have you not heard of this clan?”

Wenli shook his head. “I have mother. They are a clan of warriors. They lift the blade at a teething age, man or woman, you are wrought in the art of steel and the cold of iron as our clans. I have not heard of such strange markings on young children.”

“That is because you spend too much time in your sword. An ounce of knowledge always weighs heavier than an ounce of gold.” She said. Ruth would enlighten this boy of hers. “This clan has its own outcasts as we have our own. They brand their criminals with a mark. They are named the…”

Liza heard that word again. A name she loathed with every corner of heart, “…Lowes.”

She shivered and felt warmth drift from her skin as rain descended and bathed her. Her knuckles crunched as she balled her fists again. But she stopped herself from imploding or exploding, breathed and unfurled them.

‘This happens every day,’ she chanted to stop the shaking and lifted her drooped gaze from the road. Wet hair stuck to her face as she spoke. “Take the main road into the city, up to the southern central plaza then turn upon the eastern avenue of Andros. A league onwards and you will come upon a gate. There behind the gate of brass and walls of white ash, lays the Lord’s manor.”

She finished, took another breath and left.

Wenli sat in the carriage with his mother, hesitation still heavy in his mind as he looked at the sad figure of a girl and the brilliant bloody red mark peeking from under her clothes. He turned to his mother.

“Why mark a child mother?”

Ruth sighed. “Every crime bears its forfeits. This clan does not mark the young ones yet perhaps hers was heavy enough to earn her this brand.”

“Such a pity.” He sighed as well.

“Pity as it is, you can’t help her. This clan may see it as an act of dishonor to their customs and our plans may yet again be foiled.”

Wenli outweighed the losses and breathed a crispy breath. ‘The heavens do not seem to favour you. Perhaps this your fate.’

He turned to the front of the carriage. “Onwards Lin. We must make haste and not let our hosts wait.”

Liza watched the carriage grow smaller and smaller then disappear into the city with wet misting eyes.

“They’re all the same,” she muttered and chewed her lips. “They’re all the same. Every last one of them.”

The evening skies had dimmed and the rain finally let up as she came upon the southern river bridge. It was carved of large flat stones piled on top of one another to make the massive structure. Water gurgled beneath it in a mad rush of currents. Liza goaded over the idea of using the bridge to cross but eventually tossed the thought out with all the other bad ideas.

She scuttled to the far side of the bridge and slid down the slope to the wet gravel of the river bank. Liza moved up stream against the current to where the land rose gently and where the riverbed was high enough for a couple stones to jut from beneath the waters.

The large stones were mossy and wet. One misstep and she would be taken by the river gods. It was not that bad, at least not as bad as it was during the monsoons. The river grew violent and beastly. It would overflow with waves high enough to swallow a man whole.

Liza hopped unto the stones barely visible after the small storm and crossed the rushing river. She held caution in her every step until she finally reached the other shore and felt the grass and gravel beneath her. She clambered up the slope and into the dark chittering woods.

Standing beneath the eaves of the trees, the smell of wet leaves fallen pervading her senses. Liza felt homely. As if the rustling leaves and brambles were there to welcome her.

The forest though, was not as welcoming to most as it was to her. It was lightless as barely any beams of light touched the mossy forest floor and bathed it in too dense a shadow.

Liza trekked deeper into the forest. Familiar with her route, she came upon a fallen wild hazel nut tree. She pinched a smidgeon of dirt, enough to fill her hand, then spat in it blessing the wild tree spirit. Liza ducked under the half fallen tree and continued.

The sky grew darker as the shadows of the forest deepened. It was already close to sundown when she met that carriage so she didn’t find it strange. An eerie fallen silence followed her as only the chirping of cricket could be heard and the sifting of a thousand grains falling from a torn wicker basket. Another shower had began to fall.

She moved through the thickets and brambles, briskly walking until she came upon a cave. It was covered long green vines that made it impossible to see through.

Liza parted them with no hesitation and entered complete darkness before finally emerging to a murmur of large crowds and glowing hues of light.

‘I’m home.’

Smoke wreathed from the small wood and stone dwellings. Some built on the forest floor and others in the trees. She heard laughter of children and watched the stream of people bustling about. Hawkers shouted intensely atop their lungs trying to outdo each other.

This bunching of hovels and tree dwellings was the village of the Lowes. The grouped houses crowded together looked like a buzzing hornet’s nest.

Men and women bustled through the dirty old street. A bare chested man with his shirt wrapped round his waist walk past. The painting of a pig was etched across his body in red and dark hued ink. A naked flame rose beneath the pig as it howled like a dog to the moon. The burning pig. The brand of the gluttonous. His crime must have involved his stomach.

*******

Madrog moss illuminated her lonely path home, painted on low hanging branches or stuffed into lanterns as she evaded the crowded town square and walked through an alley. She did not know what it was made of but somehow it could glow in the dark. Only the elders knew how to make it.

“Evening sig.”

Liza froze and almost stumbled at the sudden calling. She regained her footing, rage bubbled in her throat as that name sunk into the seas of her skull. She hated that name. Hated it even more than she did the title of Lowes.

“Don’t call me that!” She roared turning the old man wearing goggles. He only chuckled showing his yellowed teeth as he did. “O-Old man Dainith?”

“I knew that would grab your attention.”

Liza looked at his open shop. Fresh fruit glistening beneath the lamp of his shop.

“Did you get what I ask for?” He asked with an expectant gaze.

Liza separated a coarse black hemp rope from round her neck. Three silver shards glinted. Liquid iron. It had been exactly where he had told her. It was not easy to find it, especially for a Lowes but she did. She handed the three shards to the old man.

Dainith weighed the pieces and smiled in a toothy grin. “That’s my girl. I’ll ask the chief to take it easy on you next time.”

Liza only gave him a broken worn smile and turned away. He was not a normal old man else the chief would not trust him with such eagerness. Else he would bear the mark of the fallen chalice, the mark of the heretic.

“Liza.” The old man called out again.

She turned and he tossed her a dozen fruit. She reached out her hands and plucked them from air.

“Whoa!” She swooped down and caught the last one before it hit the ground. Liza bunched them together and carried them in the folds of her shirt.

“Enjoy.” The old man smiled and returned to his exuberant study of the shards.

Liza walked away with a smile creasing on her face. There must have been a change in her stars or the forest spirits had finally heard her prayers. She remembered what today was. Her smile grew brighter as she progressed through the alley towards a sparse tree area dimmed from the distant radiant town lights where a few homes littered the floor and even fewer built in the canopies.

She up looked at the house at the end of the muddy road. The tree house was typical of all the Lowes tree builds. Up the thick trunk of an ancient Luthwield, walls of cedar and some oak embraced the thick trunk and branches. A dull red roof Liza had yet to finish painting rose amongst the tree tops and a shoddy deck that always creaked edging out to form a floor. Smoke rose from the tin chimney as the yellow glow of a hearth flame and drabs of moss glowed and flickered against the canopy leaves. She would surprise her today.